#dark!lanxichen

[funkyshoes]

Vacation

Xichen knew that Mingjue’s and Meng Yao’s relationship couldn’t last. Sooner or later, Mingjue would wake up and realize he’d been dating nothing more than a fuck toy. Xichen bid his time, but days turned to weeks turned to months, and still, Mingjue continued to date Meng Yao.

I'll Be Watching You

[wangxianfics]

Title: Oh! My Empress! 💖

Author: dandelion_san ( @dandelion-san​ )

Universe: Royalty AU

Status: Complete

Rating: Teen

Length: Middle (3+K)

Summary:

Lan Zhan's husbands keeps ~mysteriooooously~ dying before they reach her marriage bed.

Recommended by: @shamelesswngxian (mod)

Comments:

Wei Ying's eyes finally tracked her beaded hat and that lovely mouth parted at the sight.

She asked, "What- what did you do?"

At this, Lan Zhan stood taller. "You once told me that the Emperor's will stood above all. Now I am Emperor. Will you come with me to the Cloud Palace and be my Empress?"

Wei Ying, "Uh...Eh?! WHAT."

Fem!LWJ kills a few husbands, then peacefully overthrows LXC to become Emperor, and all that so she could make Wei Ying her wife 💖

This fic is simply amazing xD

[yuexuan]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín/Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén Characters: Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén Additional Tags: Dubious Consent, Fork & Cake AU, but adapted to setting, Rimming, Anal Sex, dark lanxichen, Not Beta Read, OOC Series: Part 8 of Sect's Logbook Summary:

A Night Hunt gone wrong, and Jiang Cheng finds himself in a woman's room, facing a very...hungry Zewu-Jun.

[extraordinarilyextreme]

cleansing

if weiying’s nightmares feel like drowning, feel like crashing through the air, feel like the temptation of resentful energy and forbidden promises, then lanzhan’s are of burning. the burning sun, the neverending hunt, one arrow after another into the sky, the whiplash adrenaline and thrumming heartbeat.

fire eradicates. ashes scattered to the wind, the proof of any existence only in the dust-light remnants. the yiling patriarch is all that is left: traitor to the yunmengjiang sect, the founder of diabolic cultivation, merciless and cruel.

no one ever remembers the bright-eyed prodigy weiying, weiwuxian. no one cares to remember every time the young boy shrugged off his own worries to take on the pains of those around him. no one knew of the brand on his chest, of the lack of his golden core, of the absolute loss of choice he had in the end.

no one bothered.

the righteous clans, blind to their own hypocrisy, destroyed the last of the wens. weiwuxian died alone, in vain, believing he was unloved.

it’s not the first time after weiying’s return that lanzhan sleeps fitfully. it’s the lingering fear, that desperation and regret he carried and cultivated for thirteen, sixteen years, that rears its head when he’s at his most vulnerable, when he’s asleep. but it is the first time after all those years that lanzhan wakes up and weiying is not in his arms.

he lurches upright, heart hammering painfully against his chest, his stomach clenching. so much for the beautiful, aloof light-bearing lord.

weiying!

for a moment, there’s no response. for a moment, he’s bleeding as his uncle demands discipline, blood seeping through the back of his robes. for a moment, he’s withdrawn, flinching even from his older brother as lanxichen tries to clean the wounds. for a moment, he’s drunk, begging for chenqing, numb to the burning seal over his heart.

thirteen years, sixteen years. lanwangji, the light-bearing lord, the younger of the twin jades of gusulan, was without his soulmate.

i’m here, weiying answers, responds, familiar smile soft on his lips as he comes into view. lanzhan, what’s the matter?

his husband half-kneels on the bed, letting lanzhan hug his waist and press his face to weiying’s stomach. 

you were not here.

weiying runs a hand through his dark hair. i’m here. i went to get my flute. he cups lanzhan’s cheek, tilting the man’s head so they can look at each other. lan-er gongzi, do you remember when you played for me in the aftermath of the sunshot campaign? i never thanked you. he thumbs away the dampness under his husband’s amber eyes. lanzhan, thank you. you know, when i was with wenning and wenqing at the burial mounds, i played Cleansing? i really... i really missed you.

lanzhan’s throat is choked with emotion, though he’s never been good at voicing his thoughts. he takes weiying’s hand and presses a kiss to the man’s knuckles.

let me play for you this time, alright? but he doesn’t move until lanzhan is ready, letting the man hold him until he has had his fill.

as he sits up to meditate, lanzhan is distantly aware that they should both be asleep. they’ll likely get scolded in the morning by one of the elders, lanxichen’s old amused smile at the corner of his eye.

but the soothing notes of weiying’s dizi fill the air. Cleansing.

lanzhan lets his grievances swarm him, cradles each and every one in his hands, and lets them go.

there was nothing left of you, he thinks sorrowfully. you were the brightest star but the sun set at nightless city. only a-yuan...

i played Inquiry until my fingers bled. regrettably, for the first few years, it was lanhuan who raised a-yuan. there were always answers, but never you. i grew frustrated, despondent. i was desperate for penance.

forgiveness. i did not stand with you. and so you died believing you were unloved, undeserving and unworthy of love.

i wanted you to know. i wanted you to come back. but there was no answer. jiangwanyin grew restless, furious. a-yuan did not remember you, but he was my only comfort.

lanzhan opens his eyes for a moment. the song spirals into a pause of silence before weiying smiles and begins again. Wangxian.

to forget envy. to live righteously and justly.

i taught him guqin. so that he may find his father. if you would not answer me, if i had failed you, then maybe you would answer your child.

eventually, i accepted it. you were not coming back. above all, you did not want to return to a world that took the depth of your love for granted. 

i kept playing. i just wanted you to hear. rest well, weiying.

you’re here, lanzhan says out loud.

weiying brings the melody to the end of its phrase, lowering the flute from his lips. i’m here.

i’m sorry. i know i am not good at speaking when i should.

weiying sets down the instrument on the table, just beside wangji.

lanzhan, ah, lanzhan, the man chides affectionately, making his way back to the bed. so many years have passed. we can live happily now.

i’m sorry.

then i forgive you, weiying says, kissing his forehead, where the ribbon will be tied in the morning. i forgive you for everything you believe you’ve done wrong. but i don’t believe you have done anything wrong. never to me, at least.

it is hard to be honest.

oh, i know! weiying almost laughs, letting lanzhan pull them both beneath the covers again. but we are both learning. 

he sobers, expression soft with the shadows of their room. i heard you.

lanzhan hugs him a little tighter. good. rest well, weiying.

i’m here, lanzhan. rest well.

[czeriahshiptank]

I wrote something again...

And it’s not Zelda xD. 

[AO3]

I kinda fell head first in the MDZS fandom (damn handsome chineses.) this Drama as consummed my life. I woke up one day like Dracula in his coffin with the urge to write this thing. The first scene of it wouldn't let me go back to my life.I would like to thanks my BFF to keep up with me through it all, and doing the Beta in this thing. And Vicka (juste because I love you.)

English is not my first language, so if there is any mistakes left, i apologies.

When heaven and earth mingle, Not till then will I part from you

1.

The first time he sees him, he is seating under a tree in the dry garden of the palace. It looks like a painting and it makes him feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to see this. He feels like something has suddenly taken hold of his heart.

It's a warm day of spring and the cherry blossoms are falling all around him. He saw him and suddenly their fall slows, as if gravity doesn’t apply to them, as if time has stopped to give him a chance to look at his perfection.

His gaze, lost in the distance, is as soft as a piece of silk. The long locks of his hair pulled by the light breeze are flying like wisp of smoke around his face. Long robes of blue and off white are spread around him like a lily blooming in the sun.

The man under the tree is holding a book, the pages are being turned by the wind, like the gods themselves wants to spare him the trouble. Wei Ying wonder what it is about. He has never learned to read, or write, but he hopes he would just for a chance to read him poems.

His arms start to ache from the heaviness of his cargo, he is on washing duty, and if the mistress finds him here, watching her son instead of doing his chores, he will be punished. It’s his first day in the Lans property and he can’t lose the opportunity, the rest of the family is counting on him.

That evening, he is sent by the head maid to the young master suit to help him bath. “It’s an honor”, she said, “one that shouldn’t be taken lightly for a young hire like you.”

He makes his way to the young master’s room and announce himself, low but clear. The rules are strict here, and no useless noises should be made.

“Young master, I am here for your bath.”

“Mn.”

He enters, gaze low on the ground, unsure.

“You’re new.” The voice feels like velvet, soothing and patient.

“I’m Wei Ying. It’s my first day.” He stops, unsure if he should say something more, he decides he should bow and adds: “Please, pardon me for any mistake I might commit”

“Mn.”

It takes him a few minutes to draw the bath. The young master is still reading his book, but there is a crease between his brows that he had not noticed earlier.

“Young master. It is ready.”

He helps the man disrobe, taking great care in averting his eyes, and it’s only once he is submerged in the water that the voice of the master resonates again in the silence of the room.

“Lan Zhan.” He looks at the young master’s face, and for the first time, their eyes a looking right at each other.

Something pulls at his heart like the string of an instrument you are painstakingly according to be at the right note. The note is here, but it's not quite right yet, it's still a little loose, a little off key. It exists in the world but it’s ready to be heard yet.

He understands all that is not said. That the young master just allowed him to stay by his side, and that his name is a gift he should take care of. He has no idea what he did for such an honor, but he doesn’t want to disappoint.

He says nothing, and help the young master, Lan Zhan, to climb out of the bath. He then gives him a light gray robe, and he thinks the dark red of the belt looks out of place, and strangely right at the same time as he tight it around his waist.

He walks out of the room after that, and the string sensation around his heart is pulled taut for a second, before loosening again.

**

He is sitting in the garden, studying his classics lesson.

The poem he is reading is about Love. About loss. About longing. He doesn’t understand it.

He is sitting here, his master having told him to find a place of beauty to meditate about the text he is reading.

He put the book on his lap and look at the distance, trying to grasp the meaning of it. He understands the prose of it, but the meaning is out of his grasp.

He adjusts himself in a meditating position. He thinks of the words, of the feeling one might put behind them.

The breeze is picking up, and the flowers are falling, he can feel them landing on his skin.

A minute passes, and the frustration keep flowing through him.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees one of the younger servants, in clean but messy robes, shuffling in the distance, his hair like a cloud of dry weed around his face. He is one of the new hires and he doesn't think he has talked to him yet.  

Something sings in the back of his mind when he sees his face for a second. The melody is at its beginning, and he doesn’t get what the notes are trying to tell him.

The young servant stays on his mind for the rest of the day. He takes great care of meeting each person on staff at the palace and makes sure to ask to be attend by him that evening.

When the knock arrives, right on time, he is quick to allow entrance and observe the young man announcing himself.

His face is young and still juvenile, he imagines him to be around the same age as himself. He can’t stop himself asking the obvious, but wasn't sure how to ask his name any other way, Wei Ying . It rings like the soft sound of a flute, and the song in his head makes itself known once again.

He let the young man to his duty and try to go back to this morning assignment. he thinks he is too young, maybe, to grasp the concepts it’s trying to teach him. the words are here, and he understands, but he can’t seem to feel them.

He is interrupted by the inquiring voice of Wei Ying and stands up to let him get at the million strings that hold his robes. The water is deliciously warm around him, and he doesn’t understand why he feels like there is still like a cord constricting his torso.

He let the silence engulfed him, while Wei Ying washes his hair, and once it’s done, he makes a decision.

“Lan Zhan.” His eyes are looking straight into the servant ones. The silver of his is shining in the low light of the candles.

The cord around his torso loosens once again, he can hear a thrill of notes ringing in his mind and he knows he has made the right choice.

Not long after that, Wei Ying leaves the room, leaving the feel of his hand tying the belt of his night robe in lan zhan’s mind.

He goes to bed, feeling something pulling at his heart as the sound of footsteps recede in the corridor.

The poem sat on his desk, not yet understood, and the song in his head is unfinished.

Nobody remembered why the war had started, but they were the second generation to fight through it.

The battle was not going well. The clouds were dark and stormy, and the ground around them had been wrecked by thunder falling more than once already.

The plain was full of bodies, full of blood and resentment.

He could see, on the other side of the battlefield, the mighty presence of the general Lan. Pristine white armor, covered in droplets of blood, air flying around his face, some caught in the blood spattered on his cheeks.

He knew that, as soon he could see the colors of his eyes, it would be too late to go back. The battle could only finish with one of them dead.

He could hear the sound of the war drums, pulsating like the blood in his veins. Beating like his heart in his ribcage.

The distance between them grew smaller until they were right in front of the other, polar opposites in looks, the white of the Lan against the black of the Wei. The sound of the drum seemed to resonate against the melody in his head. It had been there since he had first seen the white coat of the general.

A weird litany of notes, sad like a lullaby, fleeting like a memory.

The smell of death was overwhelming

He took Suibian from his side, the gleam of the sword shining with the sudden lightning.

“General Lan.”

The golden of the eyes looking at him made his heart stutter. He would be sad to kill such a beauty.

“ Wei Ying”.

He stopped. The beat of the drum deafening around him, he watched the man in front of him climb down his horse and draw his sword, as white and unyielding as him. Time has all but stop around them, until it doesn’t. The clash of weapon was as quick as thunder and as unstoppable as an earthquake. The strength between each pass could have broken a mountain, and each of them made his heart ache a little more.

The music in his head, unfinished, floating in shreds in his memory, was neither here nor there. Like something that could have been…

And then, there was silence, pain like a sudden burn in his chest and tears in his eyes.

“Lan Zhan.”

His last move was to grab the dagger at his side and to plunge it in the neck in front of him, as his other arm grabbed the waist of the man that had just cut his heart in half with his sword.

The smell of blood was everywhere around them, covering them like the red blanket his sister had knitted him last winter.

The music was no more in his head, and the still body against him, the ethereal beauty of the face in front of him was the last thing he saw.

**

This war was not supposed to be his to fight. His brother had promised him that it wouldn’t be. But his brother wasn’t here anymore.

LanXichen was dead, and Lan Wangji was there to avenge him.

The man on the other side of the battlefield wasn’t the one to have kill him, but he would pay for it nonetheless. The beat of the drum was like an encouragement, rhythmic and throbbing through his bones.

Lan Zhan had never wanted to kill anybody. He was a scholar before he was a fighter, but he was the last of his name and he had to avenge his brother.

He made his way on the rhythm of the drums, his horse whining under him, reluctant to go there. The smell of blood was everywhere, and he could understand the reluctance of the beast.

His eyes never strayed from his target the man in black and red, long hair floating in the wind plaited through with red ribbons like rivulets of the blood he had spilled.

Soon, he climbed down from his mount and grabbed Bichen, letting the man knows what was to happen.

The voice soft like silk, calling his name, stopped him in his track.

“ Wei Ying.” He had never known the name of the Wei General. Just his reputation. How…?

And then they were face to face. The grey eyes met his and the time all but stopped. A sudden litany of notes came to him, unbonded to anything, gone almost as soon as they were here.

The sound of the sword clashing was all he could hear, and the gasps of the man in front of him. He was a formidable fighter, that much was clear, but something was wrong.

When the opening came, he didn’t hesitate, and plunged the blade of Bichen in the chest in front of him.

His eyes bore into the silver pupils in front of him, so intent that he didn’t see the dagger going for his throat.

The taste of blood was very much like its smell, metallic and full of sorrow.

He felt himself falling, an arm around his waist, his eyes lost in the gaze of the man in front of him.

At least, he had avenged his brother, and he would die watching something beautiful.

The room is clean, but it smells of death. The bed is made around a lithe body, the sheets tightly pulled around him. The family was rich, but opulence had not protected their youngest son from illness.

He is a last hope, and he know that. He is a priest, and a doctor, he is someone who can either save this man, or make sure he departs physically and spiritually in a good way.

The man in the bed must have been beautiful during his short life, but the last bout of pandemic had taken so many already. His hair falls limp around his emaciated face. He can see how proud he is, even at death’s door. The silver of his eyes gleams in the low light of the room, full of mirth still, even as close to the end as he was.

They both already know he can’t do anything for him.

At the back of his head, the wisp of a song he had never heard before is ringing.

He approaches the bed and sit next to him, refraining of grabbing his hand by fear of contamination. The man looks at him, his eyes clear and full of a recognition he doesn’t understand. His lips open and with his breath escapes a name.

“Lan Zhan.”

How does he know his name? Lan Zhan looked at him with surprise, and before he even can even think of auscultating him, his eyes close and it’s too late.

“Master Wei.” he calls the name the family has given him, but he knows he won’t have any answers. Wei Ying. the name in his thoughts has no origin, but he knows it to be the right one.

He doesn’t understand the sadness that takes him by the throat. He knew he was a last hope. The music in his head has stopped and it’s like a string has snapped in his heart.

He calls for the parents and prepares the last rites.

**

When he sees him enter, he knows it’s too late.

He watches the long figure draped in the gear of a healer. He knows his parents were desperate and had called for the last hope doctor. He doesn’t know his name, but he knows his reputation. And he knows that there is nothing he will be able to do.

He is going to die today.

The man walks next to him and he can finally see his face. In the back of his head rings a melody he doesn’t know and in his heart a string is thrumming.

The face of the doctor is young, and his eyes are so soft and golden, his robes are pristine and flow like water around him. As last thing to see, it’s not a bad one.

Death gives a clarity to the soul and he realizes he doesn’t want to leave the world so soon. It dawns on him that he knows exactly who the man in front of him is. And it’s too late now.

He doesn’t want to die in front of him. He doesn’t want to die again.

From his lips escape a breath, and in his breath the name of this man he doesn’t want to leave behind but who doesn’t know him.

“Lan Zhan”

The last thing he sees is a red string, falling limp on the bed, and golden eyes full of sadness.

 4.

He doesn't know the men he executes. He doesn’t want to know them.

He doesn’t like killing people.

He also doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

The least he could do is respect them. He doesn’t know their circumstances, and the law has been unjust for quite some time in this city, the people in charge finding all kind of reasons to kill people, guilty and innocent alike.

He always treats them with respect, and he always look at them in the eyes until the end. He takes care to take their last wish before killing them and pronounce the last words after.

He watches him walk toward him. Tall, handsome, clearly of noble birth. His hair is long and his face is hard. His golden eyes make his soul sing in a way it has never happened before. Their eyes meet and there is a recognition in his heart.

The two guards make the man fall on his knees facing the crowd and turn toward him.

“Executioner Wei.”

He sees the back of the man tense at his name and his throat is constricting. He takes a few steps and crouched next to him, looking at his profile. The man looks right in front of him, his golden orbs never wavering from the horizon.

“Last wish?”

His eyes close at the sound of his voice, like he takes pleasure at hearing it. His lips form a sentence.

“Make it quick, Wei Ying.”

He doesn’t know this man, but he knows him. He nods, trying not to think of his name between his lips. There is nothing he can do. He takes a step back and watch helplessly the guard push the man on the execution table in front of him, fast and hard against the hardwood. He can’t do anything to save him. His eyes are fixed on him and there is almost a smile on his face, as if he is happy to watch his own death coming by his hands. It’s too late.

In his head the music is deafening. He doesn’t know any song, so he doesn’t know where does that come from, but he can hear it as clear as day.

He grabs the axe, his eyes fixed on the golden ones of the man, and as quick as he can, he let it drop.

Clean, quick, and full of sorrow. He says the words, the shape of a name that he didn’t know a few minutes ago in his mouth is like a sting. He cleans his weapon, and from the corner of his eyes, he thinks he see a limp red string on the floor, but it might just be the blood.

That night, after all light has gone dark, he left the city with just a small pack. He never comes back.

On his back, a sword named Hanguang is shining.

He never kills again.

**

He knew he shouldn’t have gone against the master of this city. But he was a warrior, a cultivator. He was a man of justice.

He was Hanguang-jun, second jade of his family.

His brother will be devastated, if he ever learns of what happened.

There would be war.

He couldn’t bring himself to care. He had done his duty and saved the innocents. He was ready to die for his cause.

As he was brought up to the execution place, he could hear a faint murmur of protest in the crowd, and he hoped nobody else would die today.

A sharp slap behind his knees makes him fall in front of the man who will kill him today. He doesn’t know him, he doesn’t know his name, but he knows his reputation. The other in the cells yesterday has told him that he was a merciful one. Always making sure everything was quick and that the words were said.

He was glad.

And then, he knew his name. Executioner Wei. Wei Ying . He had no idea where it had come from, but a warm melody was slowly making his way in his thoughts. It was soothing and soft, like a lullaby, full of longing and sadness and hope and…

He keeps his eyes on the horizon. He can see the other man slowly crouched next to him, his voice like honey falling into his ears, slotting itself in the song in his head as if it has always belonged there.

“Last wish.” To see you again, He doesn't say, to come back to you, he hopes. “Make it quick, Wei Ying.” he finally settles on.

He knows the other one is surprised. He doesn’t know where the name come from, but he knows it’s the right one.

The rest of it is quick as lightning. The push of the guards on his back, the hardness of the wood, the smell of sandalwood. The warmth and sadness in clear grey eyes.

The last thing he sees is the red string of blood between the two of them, and the last note of music in his head.

Autumn was crisp and cold this year and the grey clouds of rain were low on the horizon. Between them, you could sometime see the sun falling like a drape on the red and brown leaves of the trees.

The railway station was on top of a hill. It was a curious place for a train to stop but the city around it had developed in a strange way, the area full of swamps.

There were 4 docks, next to each other and linked by underground passages for the travelers to cross safely. On the horizon, you could see the river, like a long silver snake in the morning light.

Lan Zhan has always loved this place. The serenity of the atmosphere, the bustling energy of the travelers. it was a place of new beginnings, and of sad endings.

He liked sitting here for inspiration. For a few months now, he had been plagued by a melody which he couldn’t seems to put onto paper. The notes were fleeing him like oil slipping on water, there, but out of his reach.

Autumn was a beautiful season, but he had always preferred winter. The silver colors of the atmosphere was like a memory from a long time ago. Sometimes, he could see the flash of eyes the exact color of the sky just before the snow, surrounded by hair like black branches of dead trees. His dreams were full of reds and this morning he had again awoken with the taste of blood in his mouth and tears in his eyes.

But the station was quiet, and it’s all he needed. His morning train was to arrive at exactly 8.45, but he always took care to arrive forty-five minutes early, just enough time to enjoy the calm of the atmosphere.

On the other side of the dock he was seating on, he could see people coming and going. Families, students, men in suits with an air of importance.

“Shiije! I’m going to miss you so much! Don’t marry the peacock!”

The loud voice in the quiet atmosphere startled him. It has a sound he felt he had already heard, slow and sweet like a drop of honey but with the crispness of lemon tea. A perfect drink for this weather.

A thrill of notes came to his mind and he wrote them on his notepad for safekeeping.

“A’Xian, don’t be so dramatic.”

The voice sounded a lot closer suddenly, and he looked up to see a tall man hugging a woman on the opposite side of the dock.

He had long hair falling from a ponytail attached with a blood red ribbon. Lan Zhan couldn’t see his face…

“Wei Ying.” His voice just a murmur. A name for a man he didn’t know. He feels a tug on his heart, almost painful, and full of longing.

And then, a slow as death, a train filled his vision and he couldn’t see him anymore.

He hopes, for a second, that it was the woman who would climb in it, but when the train had left, the other side was painfully empty.

What feels like an eternity later, his own train arrives, and quits the railway station in the opposite direction.

**

Waking up early was not something Wei Ying apreciates on a normal day. And now he was bringing his sister to get prepared for her wedding. To someone he didn’t like.

What a sad day.

The weather was obviously in agreement with him, being all cloudy and cold and the way to the train station was long and crowded.

He was not made for mornings.

He and his sister lived quite far away from each other, and even more from where the wedding had to take place. It had been a logical solution to meet in a middle point and then go together to their final destination.

It was now almost 8.30, he had finally found his sister in this unknown place and he could complain all he wanted.

Bliss.

“Shijie! I’m going to miss you so much! Don’t marry the peacock!”

He takes his sister in his arm, her small stature engulfed in his arms.

“A’Xian, don’t be so dramatic”

He wept dramatically for a second, making her laugh at his antics. He loves his sister so much!

Just as he let her go, he’s hearing the sound of a train coming to the station, from the corner of his eye, he can see someone seating on the other side of the dock watching him.

He has a song in his head now.

Jiang Yanli is getting out of his arms to grab her bag on the floor. “Come A’Xian, let find our seats”.

They climb in the car closest to them and, luckily, find their seats pretty quickly, Wei Ying fall on the seat closer to the window, and once again, his eyes are drawn to the figure, all alone, sitting on a bench outside.

Long dark hair falling on his shoulder, looking right in front of him, where Wei Ying had been just moments ago.

“Lan Zhan.” The name is a whisper, and his eyes opened in shock. The sound of his heart resonates on the rythm of the music in his head.

And it’s already too late and the man in front of him is getting smaller on the horizon and it’s like something is pulling so hard at his heart it could leap from his chest.

In front of him, his sister looks at him with a curious expression.

“A’xian?”

“...nothing Shijie. I... I just have a song in my head…”

+1

The coffee shop is as empty as his soul. It’s quiet, and full of classical music, a soft rythm stuck in his head since that strange morning almost a year ago.

The ache in his heart is getting stronger by the day, never reaching the initial tug that had him almost hurl in the middle of the train on his shijie’s lap on that day, but it’s never ending. Like a bruise that you would constantly poke and prod to check if it still hurt.

His eyes are hollowed by the lack of sleep, his head is swimming with notes of a music he has never heard before.

He feels miserable. His joints hurts, as if he was restraining himself from movement, day after day, as if something was trying to drag him somewhere he couldn't go, and he had to resist with all the strength in his body.

He was growing weaker, and he didn't know what the end of this would be.

Strangely, that didn’t stop him from living his life, the ache almost like a phantom pain in a limb that couldn’t see anymore. like a part of him was missing.

The doctor he had went to see had talked about chronic pain, and depression, so many words that could explain, but not explain what was going on with him.

In his dream, he could see the face of strangers, always different, but somehow when he woke up, he knew they were the same person. Someone that some part of him was missing and he was looking for him in everybody that crossed his way.

He could see the golden eyes of the stranger on the train station, he had felt the recognition in the depth of his bones.

“Still mooning about your stranger?”

Wen Qing’s voice was like a summer rain cracking after a long and hot day. Soothing, in her weird way, but scorching against his own brand of spleen.

“How can I moon over someone I don’t know, A’Qing.”

“You seem to manage well so far. Don’t sell yourself so short.”

He had told her everything that had happened, she knew all about the dream, the song that he couldn’t seem to get out of his head, of the strangers with all the different same faces. She had endured the cry in the middle of the night, after another nightmare.

“You really should go and see granny.”

“Still on your weird idea that it has something to do with a past life? it’s just me dealing with Shijie’s wedding in a weird way A’Qing. Not the beginning of a weird fairytale…”

He felt more than he heard her sigh. There was a long pause and then, he saw her from the corner of his eyes taking off her apron.

“Anyway, my shift is finished, Good luck for closing, take care of my brother.”

“Of course, A’Qing.”

He turned his face toward the front and got lost again in the music in his head.

“See you later, Wei Ying!” Said her voice, but it was lost in the face outside of the café.

**

When he was a child, his brother always read him stories from differents origins to make him sleep. He had started with the classics from the Chinese mythology, and as the years has gone, he had started delving into the Japanese, the Celts, and then the Greeks.

But one that has always stuck to Lan Zhan, was the Greek myth about soulmates.

“Humans”, had started Xichen, his voice soft and full of suspense, “were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces.”

Touching his own face with wonder and his eyes wide open, Lan Zhan was full of questions. “Xichen gege, how…?”

“The story is not about their life like that, little one, because Zeus, fearing their powers, decided to split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.”

And little Lan Zhan had cried.

He remembered the feeling of loss that had seeped into him at the words, the realization that something had been missing. A realization too big for his little six-year-old mind.

He had cried until he couldn't anymore, the soothing words of his brother washing over him like water, but never liberating him of the weight that had grabbed his heart that day.

By the next morning, most of the sadness had disappeared, but he had never forgotten the hollowness he had felt.

And then time, as it always does, had soothed the sorrow and replaced it with curiosity. He had a song in his head, one that he couldn’t find anywhere else. It was a melody, sometimes full of sadness but also full of the thrill of a new life.

So he had started to learn music. He had wanted a way to write these notes forever, to get them immortalized. It had been two years since he had started working on it, writing on every surface he could find, and one year since the dreams had started.

He dreamt of blood, of sorrow, of quiet time in a garden, of a face full of mirth, and grey eyes piercing his skull. He had dreamt of wars and illness, of red ribbons in hair of darkness and…

One year since he had seen this face, the one of a stranger he knew by heart. He could still hear the voice, still feel the laughter in his bones. The tug on his heart had felt so real when the train had disappeared of his view. The hollowness of that night, so long ago now, had come back, all at once.

After that, he had dreamt of a man of many same faces. Always the same, but each one different.

And now he was walking in a city, looking for nobody but still watching each face with hope.

He walked for a long time, aimlessly, watching around him the light of the city tuning on like millions of sprites. The tug on his heart was getting stronger and he had half a mind to just let it lead wherever it wanted.

Suddenly it stopped.

His hand flew to his chest, looking for the slow ache that was his constant companion for so long. A movement on his right, the sound of a voice he thought he knew. A young woman leaving a café, and a name.

“See you later, Wei Ying!”

He entered the café.

**

It was his face, and it wasn’t. It was all the men from his dreams, the sum of their faces, never the same exactly, but always the same eyes. He could see all of them, until he couldn’t see anything anymore.

Two eyes of molten gold, looking at him like nothing else in the world existed.

He was so far away, and then he was right in front of him.

He didn’t know this man, but he had known him in thousands of different lifetimes. He had forgotten his name until he hadn’t.

“Lan Zhan.”

The words flew like air from his mouth. He could feel the heaviness of his eyes, the tears flowing on his face, the tug at his heart.

He could only see blood and gold, and white and blue, and black and red, and the silence of music in his mind was deafening.

**

Lan Zhan had always liked puzzles. His brother had given him one for each his birthdays for as long he could remember.

He loved seeing the image getting clearer and clearer. The sense of accomplishment finishing it could give him. He loved finding a place for each piece, mending the photograph etched on it. Making whole of what had been a broken mess.

His life had been a mess, and he had finally found the lost piece that could weave it all together again.

He was all of them, all those he had lost, and everything he had never found. He was the breeze on a summer day, the gentle rain in autumn.

He could see the silver of his eyes, the black of his hair, the red of his apron, and the white of the cup that was clenched into his palm. He breathed.

He took a step, then another. The string around his heart tightening. He reached across the counter, wanting to touch and afraid that it would crush the dream.

And then he heard it, and he could only respond.

“Wei Ying.”

Their hands were hovering, wanting to touch without knowing why. Knowing the person in front of them without having seen them before in this life.

Their skin touched, and like electricity, it traveled all through them. he took the cup from his hands and the porcelain against the counter resonated like a drum in his heart. Without his consent, his hands cradled the face of the man in front of him, eyes never leaving his.

And then Lan Zhan kissed him.

  我欲与君相知，                                     I want to be your love for ever and ever,

 长命无绝衰。                                              Without break or decay.

      山无陵，                                               When the hills are all flat,

      江水为竭，                                            The rivers are all dry.

      冬雷震震，                                           When it thunders in winter,

       夏雨雪 ，                                              When it snows in summer

               天地合，                                              When heaven and earth mingle,

        乃敢与君绝！                                       Not till then will I part from you.

God! 《上邪》(Han Dynasty)

Extra :  - Three years later-

They decided on a spring wedding.

They had looked for a while for the perfect venue, stopping their choices on a classic Chinese dry garden, under the branches of a old tree.

The cherry blossoms were raining and the day was perfect. The drums in their heart beating in unison.

Yanli had taken her time to tie their hair, shaping the long locks into pieces of art, weaving lilies in them instead of complex hairpieces. Their robes were the traditional red, flowing around them like flowers blooming. Embroidery of lotuses and chrysanthemums decorating their over robes in threads of gold and silver.

They couldn’t stop smiling.

The had insisted on a handfasting ceremony, the red string delicately interviewing their hands, linking them for all eternity.

The time has all but stopped, the light music of the guqin and dixi floating in the air like a promise of forever.

They had found their missing piece, and the puzzle was complete

[funkyshoes]

“Stay here, please.” Xichen’s words were polite but sounded like a command. Meng Yao didn’t know what to think. Was this ordeal finally over? After Xichen left the room, Meng Yao tried to raise his right arm. He could lift it, but not far. This was bad. This was so, so bad. Did Xichen finally realize what he’d done?

MoonShadow

[funkyshoes]

Afraid Meng Yao would leave, Xichen joined his friends right after his first match, sooner than he’d intended. As he walked over, he ran his fingers through his hair, roughing it up just enough to make himself look a bit rakish. That look had never failed him. Meng Yao, however, caught up in a conversation with Mingjue – and what would they have to talk about? – didn’t seem to notice he was there.

I'll Be Watching You

[funkyshoes]

Xichen stared across the restaurant to the table where Mingjue held Meng Yao’s hand. He’d tried to downplay it earlier, coming up with improbable reasons for them to be eating together in such a fine restaurant, but then Mingjue had taken Meng Yao’s hand, kissed it, and not let go.

Without planning to, he found himself on his feet, walking to the table, and then standing there, staring awkwardly at the two of them. Shit, he should say something. “Mingjue, I didn’t expect to see you here and with …” He trailed off as if he didn’t know Meng Yao’s name.

I'll Be Watching You

[funkyshoes]

Nie Mingjue!!! in my next chapter of Courtship Rite.

By the tone in Mingjue’s voice, he knew exactly what Meng Yao’d been thinking. “Not that. Well, maybe that. I just … Do you ever wish things had gone differently?”

“I could come over.”

Oh, and Meng Yao wanted. The only place he’d ever felt safe was Mingjue’s arms. “No. That’s not necessary.” Xichen wasn’t nice when he was jealous.

[funkyshoes]

At the time, Meng Yao hadn’t realized how lucky he’d been. He hadn’t known about beaus. He hadn’t known what Mingjue had been protecting him from, but by the time he’d graduated, he fully understood the debt he owned Mingjue. After university, he’d gone to work for the man, fully expecting to devote his life to promoting Nie Industries. It’d been a shock when he’d been sent to work for Xichen. Mingjue had billed it as a promotion, but Xichen had once, drunkenly, claimed he’d won Meng Yao in a game of poker. Meng Yao had never been sure if he’d been joking.

Courtship Rite

Next chapter, Lan Wangji's back to upsetting his uncle and causing problems for Meng Yao.

[funkyshoes]

At the time, Meng Yao hadn’t realized how lucky he’d been. He hadn’t know about beaus. He hadn’t known what Mingjue had been protecting him from, but by the time he’d graduated, he fully understood the debt he owned Mingjue. After university, he’d gone to work for the man, fully expecting to devote his life to promoting Nie Industries. It’d been a shock when he’d been sent to work for Xichen. Mingjue had billed it as a promotion, but Xichen had once, drunkenly, claimed he’d won Meng Yao in a game of poker. Meng Yao had never been sure if he’d been joking.

Courtship Rite

[funkyshoes]

“At the last dinner, Huaisang confessed to tracking down Wei Ying’s personal data. He had no reason to confess this. He merely wanted to upset Wei Ying.”

Xichen shrugged. “Does that matter?” Xichen was right. Of course, Wei Ying’s feelings didn’t matter.

Courtship Rite

[funkyshoes]

“Are you aware that the music instructor was injured?”

“Yes.” Xichen laughed. “Wangji’s infamous temper.”

Well, he couldn’t put it off any longer. “His name is Pan Wenshi. I believe he was your instructor at one point?”

Xichen had stopped laughing. He looked serious and didn’t reply.

Courtship Rite

[funkyshoes]

“Why did you insist I invite the Nie brothers?” Meng Yao glanced at Xichen for signs of jealousy. Mingjue had been Meng Yao’s first … well, first. He wasn’t entirely certain Xichen believed the flames of that romance had burnt out.

Courtship Rite

[funkyshoes]

“Is Wei Ying not happy?” Lan Wangji asked. “Does he not love me?”

Meng Yao’s thoughts raced. Xichen had once told him that Lan Wangji would, if he disagreed too strongly, stop looking for approval and act even if others advised against it. Meng Yao hadn’t quite believed him. “I thought we agreed you would not visit Wei Ying this evening.”

Lan Wangji looked betrayed at Meng Yao’s words. “I didn’t. Brother bugged the room.

new chapter of Courtship Rite

[funkyshoes]

Text:

Lan Wangji crossed his arms. Damn, but he could be stubborn. “I’ve waited long enough for Wei Ying.”

Xichen took a seat next to Lan Wangji and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You just need to give Wei Ying more time.”

“You never gave yours any time,” Lan Wangji countered. “Sometimes you’d bring them home the night you met them.”

Meng Yao jerked his head towards the window but still caught a glimpse of the blush spreading across Xichen’s cheeks.

“That’s different, Wangji,” Xichen said. “Those were just hookups. A courtship is not the same.” Meng Yao turned back to the table and hoped his smile didn’t look brittle. “I understand you don’t want to wait, but Wei Ying will be happier if you give him time to adjust.”

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