Chapter Text
Lan Qiren was a man who walked through the world as a perfect example of discipline and righteousness. His austere demeanor, his dedication to the Lan Clan, and his constant respect for the rules made him an authority respected by all. His life was a succession of duties, laws and principles that no one dared to question. Since he was young, he had learned to live by the expectations of his clan and society, to be the very image of perfection and integrity. But in this world of obligation and duty, there was a truth no one knew. A secret that would destroy his honor and position if it ever came to light.
Behind Lan Qiren's apparent perfection, behind his impassive eyes and impeccable demeanor, lay a reality that he himself could not fully accept. Lan Qiren was born with a body that did not fit his culture's rigid expectations. Two natures coexisted in him, a body that was neither completely male nor completely female. A condition that, if discovered, would ruin everything he had striven for in his life.
Since birth, Lan Qiren had had a female reproductive system, a secret that her family had hidden at all costs. Not only did he possess physical characteristics that were not appropriate for a man, but his body also had the ability to menstruate, a phenomenon that reminded him of his difference every month. In a society that valued virility and equal gender roles, a man like Lan Qiren, with his body that betrayed his very identity, could never have been accepted. When Lan Qiren hit puberty, his body betrayed him in a way he couldn't explain or understand. Growing up in a patriarchal society, where virility was seen as the measure of every man, his intersexual condition seemed to be a social death sentence, a sign of imperfection impossible to hide. But there was no way to explain his body to himself, much less to others.
Every month, when his period returned, Lan Qiren felt trapped. He had never been able to talk to anyone about that reality that seemed to belong to another world. Every sign of femininity, every trace of something that didn't fit the image of man he worked hard to maintain, made him feel like his body was a traitor. Not just his physical body, but his mind, which at times tried to accept this difference, while at the same time forcing it to remain hidden, to remain silent. Lan Qiren felt like he was fighting a silent war against himself, every month a battle he could never win. His periods, which any biologically male man would never have, were a constant reminder of his difference.
The shame enveloped him. He could not imagine how he could continue to represent the ideal image of the perfect man in the eyes of his clan and society. The unwritten laws of the Lan Clans, so filled with expectations, left no room for deviation. In a culture that demanded purity of image, her body wasn't just a problem: it was an abomination. What leader could he ever be if his very flesh betrayed him? How could he continue to wear that perfect mask of intransigence, severity and invulnerability if he was forced to live with a part of himself that no one would ever accept?
Added to those thoughts was the awareness that the Lan Clan, in its rigor and fear of vulnerability, would never allow such a "deformity" in one of its members. What would the reaction have been if his secret ever came to light? It would have destroyed his position, and his family would have been considered morally and socially stained. There was no room for weakness in an environment where honor and male strength were elevated above all else. The concept of sexual diversity, in all its forms, was unfamiliar and unacceptable. Lan Qiren was forced to hide any signs that might raise suspicion. His diversity was a silent shadow that walked beside him, but which had to remain invisible at all costs.
Thus it was that from a young age he trained himself to repress every emotion, to hide secrets under his armor of impeccable behavior. Every sign of weakness, every heartbeat that betrayed his true nature, had to be kept hidden. Meetings with other people, and above all with other members of the clan, were an opportunity for study and practice: how to maintain that perfect façade of severity and control, despite the part of himself that he could never reveal. Every day he woke up with the obligation to build his identity around his image of a strong man, with no room for what he actually was. His feelings and his body, which did not correspond to the norms, were swallowed up by the weight of expectations. Every day, that part of him was buried a little deeper.
Yet, despite everything, Lan Qiren's body did not stop speaking, making its silent and unheard voice heard. Each month, that cycle reminded Lan Qiren that he would never be like the other men in his clan. He would have to live with that increasingly heavy secret, while the world continued to look at him as the embodiment of male perfection. But his body, and his mind, were never truly in tune with the image he was trying to project. Lan Qiren had always tried to be the example of seriousness and integrity for his grandchildren, but his secret had constantly kept him from a true emotional connection with them. Growing up in an environment where appearances were everything, Lan Qiren had never been able to allow himself to be vulnerable, not even with the people closest to him. He had always been the distant, severe and impeccable "uncle", with a look that scrutinized everything carefully, but revealed nothing about himself.
He had always lived his life as an example of discipline, severity and impeccability, reflecting the values that his family and the Lan Clan required of him. Since he was young, he had learned that appearance and following the rules were everything. There was no room for weakness, for vulnerability, and above all there was no room to be different. This had made him an austere and distant man, but also protective and passionate, despite his silent internal torment. His secret, which could destroy not only his reputation but that of the Lan Clan, forced him to live a double life, where his body was an enigma and his mind a prison.
As time passed, his emotional distance from his grandchildren became more and more evident. When they were children, Lan Qiren had loved them in his own special way, but he couldn't express it as they would have liked. He had never tried to be a father to them, but rather a figure of authority. Their innocent questions had never received warm answers, but rigid and precise explanations. It was like there was a part of him that he couldn't reach, a wall that he couldn't break down, despite his silent love for them. Lan Xichen, in particular, had tried to earn his approval by any means possible, but Lan Qiren could never see the young man he was becoming. He looked at him as if he were still the boy who ran around the Clan courtyards, unable to understand the depth of his internal challenges. He couldn't accept seeing Lan Xichen as an adult, and this difficulty seeing him as one further separated them. Every time Lan Xichen tried to share a thought or concern, Lan Qiren responded coldly, keeping intact the mask of authority he had been taught since he was a child.
Lan Qiren loved his grandchildren, but he couldn't communicate that feeling. He couldn't stoop to levels of vulnerability that would make him appear weak in everyone's eyes, not even theirs. Every gesture that might have seemed affectionate was immediately rejected, disguised as an order, a life lesson, a task to be done. If Lan Qiren had ever wanted to show affection, he would have felt as if he were betraying his very nature, the one that had been instilled in him by a life of duty and sacrifice.
Sometimes, when he watched his grandchildren talk and laugh together, a sense of nostalgia and frustration came over him. He saw in them a connection he couldn't reach, a bond he didn't know how to build. Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji were linked by an affinity that he couldn't even imagine. They had a natural connection, a confidence that he lacked with them. Lan Qiren could do nothing but watch, helplessly, as his grandchildren bonded in ways he never could. He saw in them the opportunity of a life that he had never had, to be vulnerable and open, to share their dreams, their fears, their joys. But that part of himself that could have been the "loving uncle", that part that could have been tender and welcoming, never existed.
In Lan Qiren's heart, there was always a silent struggle. His struggle with his body, his struggle with the secret he carried within himself. He could never be the man his nephews would have wanted, he could never be the father or uncle they would have wanted. His existence had always been that of a figure of respect, but never of complete love. He couldn't let his heart speak the way they wanted it to. Every time he got closer, every time he tried to take a step towards a more open relationship, his body reminded him of who he really was. And this separated him from them, from the possibility of a deeper bond.
Lan Xichen, although an adult, could not fully understand this distance, and sometimes felt frustrated by Lan Qiren's coldness. He didn't understand why his uncle, who loved him, couldn't be more present, more affectionate. Lan Wangji, more introverted, simply accepted the distance without ever asking for anything, but there was a sadness in his eyes that Lan Qiren could never fill. It was a silent but very deep pain.
Lan Qiren had always lived with a knowledge that was both a blessing and a curse. His body, while a fundamental part of who he was, did not reflect the perfection he expected from a man of his position. It was as if he had been created to live a "shadow" life, where his true essence was hidden behind a mask of authority and discipline. The secret he held deep inside wasn't just a part of himself that no one knew, but a part of him that he had never fully accepted. For years, Lan Qiren had ignored his true nature, trying to conform to society's rigid standards. His loneliness was not just a matter of lack of affection or family warmth, but of an inner loneliness that stemmed from the fact that he could not recognize himself. How could he be affectionate, loving, when his body constantly reminded him that he was not "like the others"? Each day was a silent conflict between the desire to be accepted and the fear that the truth would condemn him. Lan Qiren never felt truly man, or did he feel woman enough. It was as if he were trapped in an identity limbo, a position that gave him no respite and that separated him from others, especially his grandchildren.
He couldn't even look at his grandchildren as freely as he would have liked. He saw in them the opportunity to be something more: not just an uncle or an authority figure, but a figure capable of expressing love, affection, protection. But every time he approached them, his body reminded him that he was different, and he could never get close enough to break down that invisible wall. The fear of being rejected for who he was made him distant, and despite his love, he couldn't connect with them as he would have liked.
His relationship with Lan Xichen was also affected. Despite his devoted admiration and respect for his nephew, Lan Qiren could not see him as a "son" or as someone with whom he could share vulnerability. He saw in Lan Xichen the person he would have liked to be: free to express love, free to be himself. Yet, the distance between them grew because Lan Qiren couldn't allow himself to be vulnerable. Every time Lan Xichen sought a deeper connection, Lan Qiren withdrew, unable to let his true essence emerge.
In this internal conflict, Lan Qiren's loneliness became deeper and more burdensome. It was no longer about hiding a physical secret, but about living with a truth that made him a stranger to himself. Loneliness was not just an absence of affection, but an absence of self-recognition. He felt torn between the role that society had assigned to him and the truth that his body secretly guarded. Even though he was surrounded by family, discipline and respect, his true identity remained trapped, far from the hands of those who loved him and those who would have wanted to see the man behind the mask.
His biggest enemy wasn't the outside world, but the fear of accepting himself and being accepted. Every day, Lan Qiren faced that silent battle: the need to remain true to what he had been taught, versus the desire to be free, to be loved, and to accept himself for who he was. But this acceptance process was not easy. Every small step he tried to take towards acceptance, towards openness with his grandchildren and towards recognizing his own identity, was hindered by years of repression and fear.
Yet, even though his heart was trapped in this struggle, a small hope for change began to grow within him. Lan Qiren had begun to wonder if it was ever really too late to start living the way he wanted. But this question remained unanswered, suspended in the void of a soul that didn't know if it was capable of truly being itself.