#Baby Whisperer Wei Wuxian

[spriteofmushrooms]

The first time Jin Guangyao held Jin Ling did not go as he'd expected. Jiang Wanyin, half-mad and barely functional, for some reason had been allowed into the nursery by Jin-furen. The moment whispers of this reached Jin Guangyao, of course he went to intercede; and it was fortunate he had. He could hear wailing halfway down the corridor.

"Why is he crying?" Jiang Wanyin demanded of the wetnurse as he held the baby incorrectly.

"This one is sure Sandu Shengshou knows better than her," she replied, eyes wide. Jin Guangyao made note of this, but he had few hopes of improvement. Jin servants knew to be meek.

"Obviously, I don't," Jiang Wanyin snapped, brows furrowed as he stared down at Jin Ling. Jin Guangyao purposefully brushed the silk of his robe, and like a dog Jiang Wanyin raised his head at the sound. "Lianfang-zun, what am I doing wrong?"

With a smile, Jin Guangyao moved between the shaking wetnurse and the mad dog of Lotus Pier. "Jiang-zongzhu, babies require support. Adjust your hand--yes, ah, slightly to the side--"

"Please just show me," Jiang Wanyin said, sounding tired as he held out Jin Ling.

The moment stilled. If his cultivation were better, Jin Guangyao believed he would hear the wetnurse's breath stop. She was, after all, expressly forbidden from allowing his whoreson hands to touch his nephew; yet neither of them could deny a sect leader.

A-Ling was warm and soft, sweetly heavy as all babies should be. His embroidered, daffodil-colored swaddling still burned with the heat of Jiang-zongzhu's high cultivation. Automatically, Jin Guangyao checked the boy for a fever; but of course no illness was allowed to fester in this child.

His chubby cheeks were red from crying, but as Jin Guangyao settled him in his arms, Jin Ling slowly quieted.

"As expected of Lianfang-zun," Jiang Wanyin said, slightly mocking.

When Jin Guangyao gauged his expression from under his eyelashes, however, Jiang Wanyin seemed wistful. He looked as young as he was.

(For a moment, Wen Ruohan's laughter filled his mind. "Xiao-zongzhu" had been a common target of derision, in the beginning. Wen Chao's account of the rape of Lotus Pier had been unusually thorough, and its contents were well-known amongst Wen Ruohan's inner circle. Jin Guangyao had not included the details in his reports to either his father or Lan Xichen. He doubted that this discretion would matter at all to Jiang Wanyin, who had tortured Wen Chao at the side of Wei Wuxian. What would he do to Jin Guangyao for being the last to know?)

Choosing to ignore the self-deprecation and memories both, Jin Guangyao instructed Zidian's master on the handling of human children. Jiang Wanyin made an attentive student, but he did not reach to take Jin Ling even once Jin Guangyao finished. "Would you like to hold him?"

Frowning with concentration, Jiang Wanyin nodded and sidled closer. He held his arms as Jin Guangyao had shown him, and then he checked Jin Guangyao's face, seeking approval.

"Good," Jin Guangyao said. Jiang Wanyin didn't smile, but some tension eased. Careful not to touch hands, Jin Guangyao returned Jin Ling to his jiujiu.

The wetnurse's gentle "oh" described the scene well.

Against the black and violet, Jin Ling looked like a ray of sunshine piercing clouds. Jiang Wanyin's face cleared until he looked as delicately beautiful as gossip painted him to be; while Jin Guangyao generally considered him fragile, it was more in the sense of an arrow point designed to break once it pierced flesh. Now, though, he could understand why Jiang Wanyin was so often painted as a mourning lover spurned by the Yiling Laozu.

Then Jin Ling fell asleep, and Jiang Wanyin's eyes watered. He slowly settled onto the couch, careful not to jostle their nephew.

"How long can I stay?"

Ideally, half an incense stick. Jin Guangyao turned to the wetnurse. "Could you please ask Jin-furen to advise us?"

She bowed her head and left.

After a few moments, Jiang Wanyin said, "She needs guards in the room with her. If she can't even tell me I've fucked up, how will she fare against assassins?"

"Gold Scale Tower has many guards," Jin Guangyao began, but Jiang Wanyin snorted.

"Where do you think we are? If some pompous Jin cousin demands Jin Ling, would she say no? Much less someone with weapons drawn."

"As a servant--"

"Jiang servants can and would."

Jin Guangyao smiled. "Is it not true that Jiang servants are entirely comprised of disciples, disciple candidates, and those who failed to cultivate but chose to stay?"

"It's a sect," Jiang Wanyin answered. "Typically, they are operated like sects, yes."

"Gold Scale Tower must run in accordance with its scale," Jin Guangyao said. "The servants are often merely servants."

Jiang Wanyin, whose face displayed his opinion of that, said nothing for a moment, allowing Jin Guangyao to notice his headache. "She needs guards for herself, not just outside of the room," he repeated.

"Perhaps this is something you can address with Jin-furen?"

Looking up from Jin Ling, Jiang Wanyin studied him. "Alright. Is there anything else you want me to say?"

Jin Guangyao's fingers twitched with the desire to straighten his gold robes. "Between Jin-furen and Jiang-zongzhu, I am sure that all concerns have been considered."

"Please, you notice everything and didn't accept one single item I suggested for a-jie's wedding," Jiang Wanyin said. "Do you expect me to believe you don't have opinions on Jin Ling?"

Jin Guangyao inclined his head, and then he tentatively offered an observation and a suggestion. When Jiang Wanyin merely looked thoughtful, Jin Guangyao continued; while Jiang Wanyin occasionally asked clarifying questions, he never reacted emotionally.

It was... strange, to be in a room with this man, discussing the care of a child he wasn't allowed to do anything for. He wondered what he must look like to Jiang Wanyin to be accepted so easily as an expert on Jin Ling, on anything. Unsettling.

Yet unlike Nie Mingjue, being seen didn't seem dangerous; unlike Wen Ruohan, being noticed didn't accompany invitations to violence.

No, Jiang Wanyin observed him, and his conclusion was that Jin Guangyao could teach him how to hold his one treasure.

For the first time, it seemed like sharing a nephew with this man might be interesting, not simply alarming. Jin Guangyao looked forward to observing him further.

[lucky-cat-13]

Wei Wuxian: I wanna have a baby.

Lan Wangji: Mn.

Wei Wuxian: Lan Zhan, get me pregnant.

Lan Wangji: Mn.

Nie Huaisang, whispering: Do they know-

Jiang Cheng: Yes, I've tried to tell them. They won't listen.

[wangxianficrecs]

💙 Turnabout by miixz

💙 Turnabout

by miixz (@miixz)

T, 32k, Wangxian

Part of the MXTX Epic Journeys Big Bang

Summary: Wei Wuxian stared openly at the man sitting across from him, unable to look away from the strange picture he made. He wore common clothes and had his hair up in a simple bun, his expression was contained, but soft as he looked at the baby held in his lap. Though nothing about the way he presented himself was outwardly remarkable, his mannerisms gave him a distinguished air. There was a gracefulness to him, the type that hid strength behind it. And he was beautiful. Even missing his usual mourning white and forehead ribbon there was no way Wei Wuxian would have mistaken him for anyone else. Still, the Lan Wangji with him right now might as well be a different person from the one he knew. He was still as stoic and silent as ever, but there was a warmth in him that he’d never seen before. Or: Wei Wuxian’s life takes a turn for the unexpected when he’s approached by Lan Wangji on his way back from a night hunt. Kay's comments: Definitely one of my favourite time travel stories, it's so well done and featuring some great fanart as well! A story in which after the Sunshot Campaign, Wei Wuxian gets sought out by Lan Wangji, only he's different and also, he has a child with him. Turns out that Lan Wangji is from the future and the child - their son, A-Yuan. Together, they set out to make sure the Wens and Wei Wuxian get to live and find their way together along the way. Loving the Yiling siblings vibes, Wangxian's relationship development and Wei Wuxian embracing his new role as a father immediately. Excerpt: Wei Wuxian made his way towards Lan Wangji in a daze, and for a moment he just looked at the little boy he was holding. He hadn't taken his eyes off him since they found him earlier. Though he'd looked at him countless times since their meeting, everything had shifted with this new knowledge in place. That was his son, that was a child who thought of him as a father. He ached with the need to take a better look at him, struggling to not impulsively take him out of Lan Wangji’s hands. “Can I hold him?” “Of course.” Lan Wangji came over to him and carefully arranged the baby in his arms. For a moment the cold scent of sandalwood enveloped him and then he was left with his son in his hold. He'd never been a person who paid much attention to babies before, but the moment he turned in his arms, little fist latching onto his shirt, Wei Wuxian was convinced that this was the cutest one he'd ever seen. Lan Yuan snuggled into his chest much like he did Lan Wangji's earlier, letting out a sigh of contentment. It was a wonder for Wei Wuxian to see such an action reflected back at him, and as though that wasn't enough, the little boy whispered, so softly he almost didn't hear it, "Die…" Any doubts he had about Lan Wangji's story were gone at that moment. He knew it was possible that he wasn't the one A-Yuan was calling for, but even so, something deep within his bones felt that acknowledgement. This was it. Wei Wuxian had a son. "He's adorable, Lan Zhan, the best baby in the world. I just know it."

pov wei wuxian, canon divergence, post-sunshot campaign, time travel fix-it, time travelling lan wangji, time travelling lan sizhui, somebody lives/not everybody dies, fix-it, wei wuxian lives, wen remnants live, burial mounds ensemble as family, good parents lan wangji and wei wuxian, child lan sizhui, older lan wangji, misunderstandings, getting together, developing relationship, love confessions, wei wuxian leaves the yunmeng jiang sect, not jiang cheng friendly, good sibling jiang yanli

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[waitineedaname]

Very specific but I'd love Jiang Cheng being Jin Ling's favorite uncle in aro4aro chengqing au and Wei Wuxian being mortally offended

People seemed to think that Jiang Yanli was completely blind to her brothers’ faults. This was not true. She just generally did not think those faults were nearly as bad as people made them out to be. Most of what other people found bothersome about her brothers, she was charmed by because she was nothing if not a doting sister.

Being doting and fond, however, did not mean she was unaware of how annoying her brothers were. In fact, due to regular exposure to the two of them, she was extremely aware of just how annoying they could be.

Case in point: their tendency to make everything into a competition, including the affection of her own son.

“I’m just saying, if anyone is going to be the fun uncle, it’s obviously me,” Wei Wuxian said, shaking a rattle over Jin Ling’s head.

“He’s two,” Jiang Cheng snapped, bouncing Jin Ling on his knee. “Anything that moves and makes noise is fun to him.”

“Well, I move and make the most noise, so.” Wei Wuxian leaned in and started making faces at his nephew. “Right, A-Ling? Right?”

Jin Ling gurgled happily and clapped his hands.

Jiang Yanli sighed and leaned against her husband. She appreciated her brothers taking her son off her hands for a while, but really, they were enough of a handful themselves. “Don’t fight, boys,” she said, shaking her head fondly. “A-Ling loves you both.”

“Yeah, but he loves me most, right shijie?” Wei Wuxian shot her a grin. Jiang Cheng huffed and smacked the back of his head, making Jin Ling shriek happy peals of laughter. She could practically feel Zixuan roll his eyes behind her.

“Please don’t give my son ideas,” he said in the long-suffering tone he tended to adopt when he had to be patient with his brothers-in-law. Yanli appreciated the fragile civility they attempted these days. “A-Ling, no hitting, okay?”

“Unless it’s your da-jiu,” Jiang Cheng added in a loud whisper, “Then you should hit him as hard as you can.” 

“Nooo, A-Ling would never hit me, he’s such a good boy, isn’t he?” Wei Wuxian cooed, tickling Jin Ling’s belly. Jin Ling shrieked with laughter again and one of his flailing fists collided directly with Wei Wuxian’s eye. 

Yanli only barely managed to hide her laugh behind her hand. Jiang Cheng snickered, and Zixuan let out a quiet huff of laughter.

“Ah, it was just an accident!” Wei Wuxian insisted. “He’s going to be a very strong cultivator with quick reflexes someday, I can tell!” And then, because he never learned to leave well enough alone, he said, “We should just ask him. Just because he’s little, that doesn’t mean he can’t answer questions!” He poked Jin Ling in the belly again to get his attention, “A-Ling, who’s your favorite? Da-jiu or jiujiu?”

Technically, Jiang Cheng should be er-jiu, but he got priority as the one who met Jin Ling first and saw him the most often. It couldn’t really be helped; Wei Wuxian was still unofficially banned from Carp Tower due to his inability to stay out of trouble, which meant Jiang Cheng got to visit his nephew on diplomatic visits, but Wei Wuxian only got to see him during their frequent trips to Lotus Pier. That meant Jiang Yanli was fairly certain she knew the answer, even before Jin Ling said it.

“Jiujiu!” he happily cried, reaching up to grab Jiang Cheng’s cheeks. The betrayal on Wei Wuxian’s face was comical, especially compared to the way Jiang Cheng’s face lit up. Yanli felt a little bad for Wei Wuxian’s feelings, but it was worth it to see her typically dour baby brother beam under his nephew’s uncomplicated affection.

“Ah, come here A-Xian,” Yanli said, sitting up so she wasn’t leaning against Zixuan and could instead summon her pouting brother to her side. “Don’t take it to heart, okay? He’s a baby, he doesn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“I know, I know, shijie,” Wei Wuxian sighed, but leaned in so she could pet his hair anyway. “You don’t think I would be resentful of a baby, do you?”

The noise Jin Zixuan made behind her made it very clear that he wouldn’t put it past Wei Wuxian to be resentful of a baby. Yanli reached back and pinched his thigh, but otherwise focused on Wei Wuxian. “The next baby we have, I’ll deliver here in Lotus Pier, how about that? Qing-mei can be my midwife, and you can get first dibs on holding the baby. Aside from me and A-Xuan, of course.”

“Promise?” he said, giving her the pleading eyes that always earned him an extra portion of soup. 

“I promise.” She kissed his forehead, and this seemed to improve his mood, though his eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion in Jin Zixuan’s direction. 

“You’re not already having another baby, are you?” he asked. Zixuan coughed awkwardly, and Yanli pinched Wei Wuxian’s cheek this time.

“A-Xian, be nice,” she said, lightly scolding. “We’ll tell you when we know, okay?”

“Okay, shijie,” Wei Wuxian grumbled, still shooting Jin Zixuan judgmental looks. He turned back to Jin Ling, who was being gently tossed in the air by Jiang Cheng. “A-Ling! Do you wanna go down the river and visit A-Yuan?”

“Yuan-ge, Yuan-ge!” Jin Ling happily exclaimed, clapping his hands. His uncles scooped him up and grabbed the bag of diapers and snacks Yanli had brought, bundling him out onto the pier with promises not to drown their beloved nephew in the lake. 

Zixuan let out a tired sigh as soon as they left the room, taking his turn to lean against his wife’s side. “Why are they always this exhausting?” 

Yanli laughed and petted his hair. “Maybe another baby would give them something else to focus on,” she suggested lightly. Zixuan immediately flushed red and hid his face in her shoulder, making her laugh again. 

Yes, her brothers’ antics could be annoying, but they were good uncles. She was very grateful to be able to trust her son in their hands for a few hours.

[guqin-and-flute]

Holding Me Holding You–Ch. 7 [3zun Raise Jingyi Prequel]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

[Ao3 Link]

[Holy shit, how has it been 2 years since I last updated this fic?? ANYWAY HELLO HI I MISSED YOU. We're keeping the baby, guys. CW: Disjointed, slightly nonlinear narration; negative self talk; more talk of battle aftermath, bodies (gross but no more graphic than prev chapters), and death; focus on lots of trauma to do with death and grief; general Twin Jade parental trauma; vaguest mention of child death, in that he repeatedly tells himself there isn't one and remembers part of his nightmare about Wangji/A-Fu dying]

Who are you?

‘Wen Baiqi.’

What must be done for you to rest?

‘Say goodbye. Tell her goodbye.’

It’s raining in Qishan. It’s nothing like the rain in Gusu.

Who are you?

‘Hei Xuecen.’

What must be done for you to rest?

‘All my fault all my fault ALL MY FAULT--’

This rain isn’t crisp, but disconcertingly warm. It doesn't bring life. It soaks into the ground, milling the dirt back into the blood and gore bloated mud of that night, sucking at their feet. Reeking of putrefaction. It coats Xichen’s tongue and throat.

Who are you?

Each time, there is a chance he will receive a reply from the Yiling Patriarch himself. 

‘Ye Qian.’

He never does.

What must be done for you to rest?

‘Never apologized--’

What would he do if he did?

Who are you?

What would Zewu-jun do? Clan Leader Lan?

What must be done?

Would he soothe his spirit?

Who are you?

Ghostly fingers pluck at his sleeves constantly. 

Who are you?

‘Nie Zixing. Never knew him, tell them--’

When he had first arrived, the bodies of Wei Wuxian’s Wen contingent still hung from the gate to the battleground. Or what remained of them. After scavengers, time, and the elements had had their turn. Swaying in the warm, wet breeze along with carrion birds’ cries and the distant tunes of the guqin language. Grisly pendulums. Dripping.

There is no small boy among them. He had hoped against hope, but now he knew for sure. This secret is tucked deep, deep down beneath his heart.

Who are you?

The corpses on the ground are Wen. They are Lan. They are strangers. They are Da-ge, lying bloody on the floor of the Scorching Sun Palace. They are A-Zhan.

"We should burn them like they did to our people. Scatter their ashes, so they will never rest." A venomous whisper from his own disciples, a young man, face twisted in rage.

(“They’re killing everyone,” he had choked his sobs into A-Yao’s arms. “My people--my family are all dead and I did nothing.”)

A-Yuan had been so, so pale against the sheets. So tiny compared to the infirmary bed.

“These people?" Xichen’s voice is quiet. "These cultivators that studied healing? Miles and miles from Qishan?”

Silence.

“Did they destroy our home? Did we fight them in Sunshot?”

Too little, far too late.

There is no small boy among them. There isn’t.

A-Zhan, gray and slack, eyes glassy, head lolling--

He pushes the dream-memory away.

Who are you?

‘Jin Mingni. 

My father--’

"We will bury them and hold the proper rites, as we have the rest of the fallen. And I will ask you to swear yourselves to secrecy regarding their exact resting place. In case anyone later shares your thinking.”

‘Zhou Sanniang. Never wanted to come. Save me.’

“Help me bring them down.”

There may be no small boy among the Wen, but he sees corpses all day, every day. They're in his dreams. He cannot stop seeing them. And he cannot stop seeing a boy (Afuyuanzhan) among them, from the corner of his eye.

He can never quite catch the face before he realizes there is no one actually there.

A skeletal hand is unearthed when they lift a body--a remnant of the Sunshot Campaign, years before. There were plenty of partial skeletons from that time that the Yiling Patriarch had raised to fight them. It seems some didn't have the strength to fight their way out from the mud. The death here has layers. A slow growing mountain of violence and dead and blood instead of stone. The building of the Burial Mounds’ successor.

Do the Burial Mounds have as many crows? Is it a feasting ground, as this has become?

They carry the quiescent dead, cover them with cloth, lay them in rows. Those whose spirits have passed on easily. They lie with their Sect members--when they are able to discern who they are. Still, fields of undyed cloth mounds, waiting to be retrieved by their loved ones, if they still live. Somewhere out there, there must be people still alive, families whole and happy, living in the sunshine. Somewhere.

Who are you?

His fingertips bleed from days playing Linhai and Liebing.

What must be done for you to rest?

Even those here that are living shamble like the dead--the rogue cultivators, his Lan disciples, the handful cultivators from other Sects, all here for the same goal, all hollow eyed and pale. He is supposed to be here for morale. 

They work deep into the night, far from familiar, ingrained rules about schedule and tidiness, here. Adrift.

What must be done--?

The fierce corpse is not a powerful one, merely tenacious. Shuoyue snakes out. It crumples immediately with a muted splurch into the muck, halved.

‘Tell her I loved--’

The top half of the corpse writhes, still scrabbling for him. The sound it makes from its ruined face is horrid. It's a wonder it can sense his yang qi at all; no eyes, no nose. Its robes are a splotchy black and rusty brown-red, but the Lan ribbon around its forehead manages to show a ragged white through it, here and there.

The talisman sears, blinding. It is enough. The body slumps for the last time. He can settle into that mud, summon Linhai from his qiankun bag for the Songs of Rest.

Who are you?

‘Lan Ruicai.

Show them all--’

The blood of the walking dead is no longer life-hot, but the same, unnerving lukewarm as the rain. He cannot feel it. He can’t tell where it’s stained him until he reaches his tent each night. 

He is efficient. He is in control.

The rain here doesn't cleanse anything. It hasn’t stopped for days.

Everything is the same color; the sludge, the thick haze of lingering resentful energy, palms, boots, the hems and knees of robes. That old clotted wound color. Dirt repelling talismans can only do so much before they are overpowered by the sheer weight of yin energy permeating everything. Stained.

There's no use cleaning. He tries anyway.

‘I was so scared, so scared--’

Who are you?

Sometimes, the spirits do not answer. Sometimes, they speak first, before he can even start the questions, raking the strings repeatedly in their anguish. Sometimes, they try to tear the guqin from him, try to rend his clothes, squeeze his throat. Sometimes, banishment is the only way. 

The sudden shrieks and roars at night startle everyone from sleep. If Wangji was well, he would be here. He is known for going where the chaos is.

Is that what had led him to this? To Wei Wuxian? An affinity for soothing chaos? For chaos itself?

Who are you?

‘Don’t know. Want to go home--’

"I can't anymore, zongzhu, I-I--"

"It's alright. Return to the Cloud Recesses. You’ve done enough."

Sometimes, he wakes in the night to find that he is in the middle of dressing, having no memory of doing so, a clump of cleansing talismans clutched in his numb hands. He has cut down so many fierce corpses, he’s lost count.

Who are you?

Food is tasteless glue in his mouth.

Who are you?

Every night, he is sure to take the medicine that gives him no dreams.

‘Oh gods oh gods ohgodsohgods--’

Every night, he prays that he has not left Uncle overwhelmed, that his people are being cleansed and healed back home, that Wangji has stopped bleeding, that A-Yuan is healing, that A-Fu is….

Who are you?

(What right do you have?)

What must be done?

He has been here for days that run into one, long, dark, meaningless drain. 

‘Son. Baby. Where is he?'

Who are you?

‘Pan Liu.’

His raw fingers pause on Linhai’s strings, still humming. Rain patters quietly on the hat that shields his face from it.

He knows that name. How does he know that name.

There have been plenty of others he had recognized among the dead, from different Sects and his own, from childhood, from Cultivation Conferences, from class. But each time, he must pull himself back to that life to remember, away from the rain and the red and the dead.

He can’t place it.

What must be done for you to rest?

‘My baby. Safe.’

The spirit is a thin wisp of light, playing about the strings, shining on the dark wood. Focused. Waiting.  

Who is your son?

‘Lan Fu.’

His mouth is dry.

("A-niang?" A hopeful little voice. The memory of a crumpled form in the blood-churned muck, a shoe print between shoulder blades….) 

It is cruel, endlessly cruel that he is the one alive. That he is the one sitting in the mud across from this poor young mother’s spirit. That he is the one with blood enough in his hands to leave rain blotted stains on the strings as he tells A-Fu’s mother; He is safe.

(Shrieks of raw sound as they carry him away. Echoing off the trees. Reaching back for him.)

A hesitation. Then, ‘Who are you?’

Lan Xichen. Zewu-jun.

‘Zongzhu.’

He will be safe. I swear. 

‘...Safe.’

Rest, now.

‘...Rest….’ The notes are quiet, exhausted. Longing.

Then, silence. That pale light is gone. 

She is gone.

He sits, still and silent as the soft caverns in the clotted mud continue to patter around him. His face is wet--mist and rain and blood. He almost wishes it was tears. 

He aches in a new, terrible way, now.

Oh, little one. You were so loved.

He has been witness to both sides, now, of this small, destroyed family reaching for each other through the dark. And how useless he has been in the task of bringing either of them lasting peace. 

To bring anyone lasting peace. 

(Useless.)

And do you serve anything so fiercely that it would be your last thought, taken across into death? 

It is irrelevant. The soul quieting ceremony had been performed on them as children, with all the other inner disciples. He will not linger as a ghost, even if he were to be struck down by a fierce corpse this instant.

He finds himself trying to remember if his mother had ever mentioned having had such a ritual performed on her….

Selfish. You would have your own mother suffer and linger as an unquiet ghost for some sort of twisted confirmation that you were loved? 

Xichen remembers childhood before the death of his parents. The infinity of all of it. It probably never crossed A-Fu’s mind to beg her to stay with him. (“No, no go! P’ease!”) She had always returned before. 

The memory of A-Fu clinging to his hands so tightly he had drawn blood with his nails is inescapable. 

During that final farewell at the Jingshi, A-Huan too had had no idea it would be the last time he would ever see his mother’s face. He didn’t know what creeping death looked like, then. She was simply her, smiling, twinkling at them.  He had kissed her cheek and taken Wangji’s hand and waved to her through her ornately carved window screen as Uncle led them away. Wangji had always been the one to pull back, to fuss over leaving. Uncle had always made sure that Xichen set a good example for him.

The snowy day she had left this world, cold and dry, so far from the warm wet muck he was in now, something in him hadn’t believed it. Hadn’t believed that someone could just…no longer exist, just as suddenly as a storm might blow over the mountain summit with no warning. 

He saw her so sparingly, it seemed impossible that she wasn't just simply waiting in her front room for them to visit with a smile and open arms.

How? he had asked. When? Why?

Uncle had said that it was not for children to know. This pulled it even farther into the unreal, stretching his comprehension. It felt like a dream, a lie. A story. But if he could just see her…if he could just prove that this was some sort of…misunderstanding--

(Xichen had never asked again after that first refusal sat in his gut like a chilly stone. He suspected that Wangji had not either. Even now, decades later, he still did not know how his mother had actually died. 

He suspected enough, however. 

He knew it was sudden. He knew it was unexpected. He knew no one spoke of it. He knew it had broken his father beyond any hope of repair. Uncle had not volunteered the information, even now, when they were both grown. And Xichen will not allow useless rumination. Rule 60.)

 He remembered he hadn’t been able to stop crying. A-Huan had always hated crying--he always tried to hide away and not bother anyone with it, but this had been constant. 

Uncle had squeezed his shoulder and spoken softly, and reminded him after hours of stopping and starting that he must not grieve in excess, that he would make himself sick, that he was agitating Wangji, that he needed to calm himself, death was a natural passing, like the moon or a river, one must not let their emotions control them.

But still, that something in him that just knew it wasn't true waited until it was dark, until curfew set in and the snow lit the night full-moon-bright, reflecting the stars and lanterns. He had pulled on his boots and slipped from his window, cautiously darting across the paths of the Cloud Recesses in just his pajamas and his blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders, shivering from more than the cold. 

This had to be a trick that he didn’t understand; a joke or a punishment for something he had done wrong. When he figured out what to apologize for, he would be able to see her again. 

The fear of being caught breaking the rules was washed away when he crossed beneath the familiar bower wound with skeletal winter vines. His mother’s house stood dark. All around it, snow was churned and broken, as if many people had been there. In all his memory, no one else had ever visited the Jingshi. The door was unlocked. 

It opened onto emptiness and moonlight. 

Everything was gone.  Her plants. The blue cushioned couch. Her desk and papers. Her dragon incense burner. Her tall candlesticks. Her big, thick, round rug they laid on and played games. The pictures he had painted for her.

He had drifted, stunned, through the shell of his mother’s home. The only proof that she had ever even been there were the scratches on the floor from where furniture had been dragged. That, and the scent of her that still lingered underneath the smell of whatever they had scrubbed the floor and walls with. They had erased her completely. Like she was never there in the first place.

Then it had settled on him like a cloak of lead, dropping him to his knees; the understanding, the true deepness of what this meant.

She was really gone. Forever. 

The ‘always’ was gone. The ‘next time’ and promises. That warm, constant presence on the rim of the Cloud Recesses, the visit that marked his days as cyclically and surely as the sun had simply...vanished. In just one moment, the world was made completely lightless. Incomprehensible. It had a hole ripped in its center, cold and inescapable.

She would never brush back his hair and kiss his forehead. She would never pout when she lost a game. She would never squinch up her nose and do an accidental snort-laugh.

If he had only known that it could happen so fast…if he had only known that people could leave so quickly and completely, he would have taken something. A set of her dark, weighty chopsticks, one of her bracelets, a letter; anything. But there was nothing.

Somehow, he had found himself in front of the Hanshi, his feet numb, his face and hands frozen. Thinking back on it, he couldn’t remember what his 6 year old self had planned. He wasn’t sure that there had been a plan. Maybe he had just wanted a parent. Maybe he had been seeking out the one adult that might have cared as much as he did that his mother was gone. Uncle didn’t understand--A-Huan and A-Zhan had always known that he didn’t like her. He was always polite, because that was important, it was in the rules--but he was always stiff and short. He frowned the whole time--every time--picking them up. He hated talking about her.

But the father he had hardly met, that distant, hidden figure--he had married her. He had loved her.

He would care.

The Hanshi, too, had been dark--and he panicked. Had his father left--or died like his mother and no one had told him? He had yanked the door handle--and to his shock, it slid open. He had been expecting a lock like the one that he saw being done up behind them when he and A-Zhan left the Jingshi. (A choice, not a prison, he had realized as he got older. Not in the same way, at least. Other things kept Qingheng-jun bound.) 

It was dark inside, curtains drawn, vague shapes of things illuminated by the light creeping in behind him. He stood in that doorway, frozen in body and mind, unable to trespass that much farther. It smelled unfamiliar and sharp. He had never been in his father’s home before. 

It was so dark.

He had called into that darkness, choked and quiet; “Fuqin?“ 

Silence. 

“...Diedie?”

(“They made choices. These are consequences,” is all Uncle had told him when, younger, he had asked why both of his parents were locked away from him and refused to say more.

Afterward, A-Huan had always been afraid that he might accidentally make those same choices, that he would be kept from his brother and his Uncle and nannies for it. Because no one would tell him what those choices were, he studied the rules obsessively so he could be sure to follow every single one. So he would never be locked up.)

There was a rustle, a clink. A shape had formed in the shadows, someone sitting up from being slumped on a table. A pale hand swayed into the pool of silver moonlight, pointing. The voice that followed had been rough, slurred like a mouthful of rocks. “You are not supposed to be here. Go.”

A-Huan had fled as fast as his numbed legs could go. Stumbling, breaking through the crust of snow, falling and rising and falling, back up through his window to collapse on the floor. His breath had burned in his lungs as he coughed and sobbed as quietly as he could, hot tears stinging his frozen cheeks.

Not quietly enough, though. A-Zhan had eventually crept into his room and curled up next to him on the floor without a word, arm wrapped around his middle.  When A-Huan had rolled over and held him more tightly than he had ever held anything before, he realized that A-Zhan was the only part of his mother he had left in the entire world.

And now, what did A-Fu have left of his parents, of a life he knew? 

A story, at the very least. A reason. A goodbye. The truth. It was all he could offer. It was all he had left for the boy. These other spirits and their wishes can only be passed along to others, if they were attainable at all. But this, this he can do; this, he can set right. To make absolutely sure that her will is found and executed, that the family who cares for her son is told the story of her last farewell, so he will know, too, in time. 

So a son will never have to wonder.

This much peace, he can provide. With those who can bear this place no more and an endless caravan of cloth draped bodies, he returns to Gusu, leaving behind Qishan’s bleeding sky.

-

The quiet of home stuns him. There are no screams, no groans echoing down the mountain. The trees don’t muffle sounds of sword or talisman sizzle, merely birdsong and wind. There is beauty here, something he hadn't known his soul craved like water in a drought until he saw it in rich blues, blooming whites, lush greens. The coolness, the clarity of the water and the touch of leaves. Nothing here is red-brown. All that bleeds is hidden away behind pale bandages and pale walls.

It's almost too much. 

(His hands feel filthy, no matter how many times he scrubs them. Discontent among such blessings is an insult to those that can no longer come home to them. He will kowtow in the shrine for this disrespect later.)

Time has meaning once more. In theory. There are places to eat, to rest. 

(It hardly makes sense to him anymore, despite the schedule being as familiar as the stone beneath his feet.)

Home, in the Hanshi, surrounded by familiarity and comfort, sitting at his desk as the incense burner next to him delicately permeates the air with sandalwood and the trees outside rustle and no one screams at all, he holds Pan Liu’s will in his hands. It is a brief, frail little thing in the face of such sorrow. It must have been hastily written after her husband’s death, as she willed A-Fu and her remaining possessions to the care of her younger sister. Who upon brief investigation of his ever growing list of the dead was found to have been killed in the battle against Wei Wuxian as well. The sister, yet unmarried, had no will of her own--probably too young to have begun to even consider death as a real possibility before life and Wen and war swept their way in. Their house had been one destroyed in the Wen’s sacking of the Cloud Recesses, their personal possessions few. No one else remained of their immediate family.

Pan Liu clearly had not expected to die before she could update it.

In his heart, somewhere, he had known that something like this was the case; that A-Fu was truly alone. Xichen had carried him for days and no one had come looking? No one had wondered where he was, wanted him home safe, with them? 

He had not wanted to look directly at this, at the time, knowing he would have to give A-Fu back to that loneliness, that uncertainty. Even though A-Fu is not the only child in the Cultivation World or even the Cloud Recesses with the same fate, it had been…different. He couldn’t have said why--still can’t--but it had felt like a betrayal to the boy. A loss, savage and personal. Even when he knew any other choice came nowhere close to making sense.

Still. Even he and Wangji had had their uncle and the small, rotating cadre of minders that were familiar to them. He saw his mother once a month and knew his father was there, somewhere, out of sight. There had been a thread connecting them to their parents and the life they could have had with them. 

A-Fu has none of this. 

And yet he still cries, still calls out, because he trusts that someone he knows will come. Of everything in these last few days, this is what is almost too much to bear, a knife stuck in his ribs that gouges with every breath. He does not feel sadness or regret; only pain. Everything else has been out of reach for a while now.

The rattle of his door opening onto seeping sunshine and fresh, bloodless air has him looking up. His Uncle steps over the threshold. “You’re back,” he says warmly by way of greeting as Xichen rises.

“Shufu.” He bows, then offers him his customary seat, more out of habit than necessity; this teatime visit was a familiar ritual in a life not too long ago.

 They take their places at opposite ends of the low, square table at the center of his sitting room as Xichen opens his tea cupboard. “It’s been a while since we have been able to simply sit and have tea together,” Uncle observes, easily.

Yes; nothing has been right or normal for a long time. “Mn.”

When he continues to set out the cool porcelain cups and the dark pot with no further elaboration, Uncle watches him work, expression a thoughtful blur in his periphery.  “...The library is not where I expected your first stop to be.” 

He sounds only mildly curious, but Xichen knows that it is unspoken approval that he had not gone straight to Wangji.

He hesitates, then continues his methodical ritual of movement. “There was a time-sensitive matter that I wanted to attend to.”

In truth, after the bath he had taken upon his return--where he had had to call for 3 rounds of water (Do not be wasteful, Rule 23; broken) before it was no longer clouded dark with dried blood and mud and rot--Xichen had stood on the Hanshi’s front porch, staring down at the blindingly white path before him, forking off through the trees. 

His heart had tugged him one way and his cowardice in the face of pain another. The thought of seeing more bodies just lying there, of seeing those dear to him--Wangji, A-Yuan, those in the infirmary--suffering while he could do nothing to prevent it was….

It was not something he was capable of, at present. Just for now. Just for these first few hours. It was selfish, but true. And so, he had gone to their records room in the library to request Pan Liu’s will. Pain had won. His heart was weak, choosing the easier duty.

Unable to stop himself, though he knows it will cloud his uncle’s relaxed and pleasant demeanor, he asks; “Is Wangji…?” He trails off. 

Awake? Improving? Well? …Alive? A sharp internal rebuke at this last. Do not exaggerate. Rule 671. Uncle would not be so calm if things were dire. He is angry, not cruel. He would have been told.

(A heavy hand on his shoulder. An empty house. Churned snow.)

He would have been told.

Uncle’s face does, indeed, darken. “Hmph.” A mirthless, scornful snort. “He wakes on occasion. He refuses to speak, refuses to acknowledge anyone. He is simply lengthening his own punishment.” Uncle eyes him, adding, “You should be able to talk some sense into him. He always has listened to you best.” 

‘And so how could you have let this happen? How could you have let him do this?’ 

(When will you stop being angry and start being afraid for him?)

Xichen lowers his gaze to the dark wood of the table and scoops the tiny, furled up leaves of the tea into the pot, the smokey green scent tickling his nose

It’s true. Of everyone--their caregivers, teachers, and relatives, Wangji has always responded to him best. He would not always necessarily disobey outright, but he might frown or hesitate before complying or pretend not to hear--especially if he were called to come away from Xichen’s side. “Your class is this way, xiao-gongzi,” the minder would call and A-Zhan would continue his resolute little stride beside him, hand squeezing tighter around Xichen’s fingers the only indication he had heard anything at all. 

It was when Xichen squeezed back and knelt down to straighten his robes, smiling up into his serious face, saying, “It’s alright, ZhanZhan; I’ll ask if I can come out early to pick you up, mn? Go on, be good,” that he would allow himself to be led away with no further fuss.

 He had been the only one who could finally convince him that kneeling in the rocky ground every month when they should have been visiting their mother would not force anyone to bring her out to them. The first time, he had asked him to come in, come home. But knew his brother. He was not surprised when he silently refused to even show he had heard him. 

And so he hadn’t asked again, never having the stomach to fully destroy the hope that he would be let back into the Jingshi if he just waited long enough. 

But Uncle had become frustrated, their teachers and nannies muttering. They were impatient with his refusal, seeing it as disobedience. They didn’t see his mourning, only his stubbornness. So A-Huan had had to protect his brother's soft heart from those that didn’t understand. “We can kneel together, back at home,” he had whispered, his fingers screwed tight around A-Zhan’s cold hand. “I’ll wait with you as long as you want. But niang would--” his throat had caught and he had wrestled his tears from his voice. “Niang would hate if you got sick, sitting out here in the cold all day.”

A-Zhan’s dark eyes had bored into him, thinking. Reason and punishment and demands from adults had not moved his stubborn frame one inch, month after month after winter-to-spring month. 

Then, finally, this second and last time, A-Zhan had listened to him. Whatever it was about him was what finally got his little brother slowly, stiffly to his feet to hobble back home with him. Xichen remembered that he hadn’t felt relieved at all. He just felt like he had taken their mother from him all over again.

“I will speak with him, shufu.”

 Uncle nods, then heaves a sigh. “What news is there from Qishan?”

Mechanically, as if operating his own mouth from across the room, Xichen relays numbers, movements, and times. He almost reflexively scolds himself for lying; the mundane description of dry duty and the lived horror so far from one another that they were entirely irreconcilable. Just words passed across a shining table over fragrant tea, cool wind brushing the sun-pale windows serenely with tree shadows

When he reaches the final fate of Wei Wuxian’s executed Wen contingent, Uncle approves. “It was wise to swear the disciples to secrecy. This has all gotten so inhumane. Denying them burial was an unnecessary cruelty,” he says heavily as he shakes his head, eyes closed in weariness. “I pray that we are done with this madness at last, with that Wei Ying finally taken care of. What a mess.”

There is silence. Xichen cannot fathom what his response to that could possibly be. Should possibly be--as Wangji’s brother, as the Lan Clan Leader, as his uncle's nephew. As Wei Wuxian’s…what. Friend? 

…As one who cannot delight in his death, in any case. 

Despite the period of kneeling before the Jingshi, Wangji had never been a troublemaker growing up. He was always the Jade who grasped the Lan way of life more easily, molded himself to the rigidity of the rules with that same stubborn tenacity. 

It was Xichen who failed in that, who smudged the black and white lines to gray, bent them so they were slightly more comfortable around him; bearable--once he discovered that they could be. 

He was the one who accidentally got drunk trying to see if he could filter out alcohol with his core, he was the one to kiss Mingjue first in the Jin Gardens during a Cultivation Conference. The one to urge his brother to befriend a talented teenager who was gleefully and repeatedly stomping all over their Clan’s ancestral rules.

He was the one who had told Wangji to step outside his rigid view of the world, to see people for their hearts. And then Wangji's own heart had been torn out. As his uncle said; Wangji had always listened to him best. This much would never have happened without Xichen's deliberate meddling. 

All those years ago, when Wei Wuxian had first cannonballed into their lives, Xichen had just wanted Wangji to be happy. To have friends. Alone didn’t always mean lonely, but he knew he saw it in his brother. Saw Wangji with peers who were merely in awe of his talent, who respected but did not like him, love him, know him, want to spend time with him. He knew the difference, no matter what Wangji showed the rest of the world. The older he got, the less he smiled--the soft, secret ones that so many others failed to see. Xichen had missed them, dearly. And so he had pushed.

Everything that has happened sense feels as if it’s unshakably all his fault.

As the tea is poured, they speak; it passes over him like clouds. Which elder is still in which stage of recovery. The smith they called to repair swords and assess the spirits of those now without a handler. 

Something touches him.

 “Xichen!” 

His hand burns. He is on his feet. Shuoyue’s naked blade buzzes, ready in his hand. He does not remember moving. Every fiber of cloth on his skin feels alive and writhing. Blood courses. Scalding tea is cooling, dripping from his knuckles.

The touch had been spiritual, not physical. From the corner of his awareness and the Cloud Recesses boundary wards at once; a warning, tasting of wild metal (close to blood, so close). 

The Western Wards, crossed.

“Do not unsheathe your blade in a residence!” Uncle’s face crinkles from shock to a wince. “And contain yourself, this is not a battlefield.”

It takes a moment. His killing intent is up, streaming from his core like a river of blades, of blood. 

Sucking in a breath, he takes the torrent in internal hand and yanks it back, firmly, like the reins of a horse, winding the silk rope of it over again and again in the palm of his concentration, until the thrum of it eases. The pressure that had filled the room with the promise of death ebbs. Shuoyue hums warm, expectant. When he does finally sheathe her, the connection between them flickers, confused. 

Above his hammering heart, he hears Uncle continue, frowning, “I felt it, too. Was it someone passing outward or inward?”

His tongue, his mind is mud-stuck slow.

Focus. There is no battle here. You are home. Get a hold of yourself.

“...Outward. Less resistance. Nothing powerful.”

Oddly, at this Uncle’s frown deepens, shadows of concern replacing mere puzzlement. “Hmm. Those were in the West…far….” After a moment of thought, he rises.

As he steps out the door and calls for a servant from the Hanshi’s porch, Xichen continues to try to pull in slow, deep breaths.

Have you regressed to being such a novice that you cannot control your own qi? Your own battle intent? Are you a child? Though his uncle's voice is low and his attention is divided, the words ‘searchers’ makes it through the pounding blood in his ears. Strange.

When Uncle slides the door back open, Xichen asks, “Searchers?”

His silhouetted form hesitates, framed by the sunlight that pours in behind him and dazzles Xichen’s eyes, leaving his expression briefly in shadow. “...Yesterday evening, a child managed to wander into the woods alone.” A spike of cold worry threatens to heighten the wild surge of energy within him once more as his uncle continues, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “We have had several teams scouring the backhill and the whole of our land since then. They are young enough that their spiritual signature isn’t strong enough to register on normal tracking talismans.”

“Why was I not told?!” 

It burst from him, harsher from shock than he had meant and Uncle blinks, pausing in settling himself back onto his seat, brow furrowed.

But he cannot bring himself to care about disrespect, just now. Any child alone and lost is terrifying, awful. There is something, though…something about his tone, his expression that has breath caught in Xichen’s throat as slow, glacial horror creeps up from the depth of his gut. He is avoiding specifics. 

Why.

 “It is being handled already; why would I distract you from your duties? You’ve only just returned and you must--”

“Who. Which child.”

He huffs in irritation, brow furrowing further. And he shuts his mouth, lips compressing.

Xichen no longer needs an answer.

Behind him, he can hear Uncle’s voice raised in startled alarm, but he is already out the door, already leaping from the porch onto Shuoyue. The wind howls in his ears as shoots upward, speeding west to where he had felt the wards ring within him. To where A-Fu has just crossed beyond their safety.

He knows. He doesn’t know how, but he knows.

Xichen can barely breathe around the air battering his face and his own terror. The shrieking sky threatens to rip him from Shuoyue’s blade. Everything at once feels heightened, his awareness expanding to notice how chilly it is despite the sun, how the damp of the wind tearing at his hair and clothes tells of rain in the past day, how dark the woods look beneath the thick canopy blurring by below his feet. He had been alone and cold and terrified, out all night. Had the boy been trying to find his mother? Xichen? The thought made his gut writhe within him.

(They peel his little fingers from Xichen’s sleeve as he clutches and screams…)

Please please please please please

How could this happen? How could he have ever allowed this to happen? There were rivers, cliffs, steep slopes of scree, ponds, caves, animals--gods, animals alone would--

He is well enough to move, to cross the wards.

If it was him. If it were not a strong enough spiritual animal to trigger the alarm. 

There is no boy hanging among them THERE IS NO--

The invisible boundary rears up in his senses, mere seconds full tilt sword ride from the Hanshi but so, so far for a tiny child, wandering in the night. Beneath the canopy, before Shuoyue even manages to drop to a reasonable height and speed, he has already leapt off, landing at a sprint. Internally, the memory of the disruption in the web of the spell warps around his spiritual awareness like a broken arch as he crosses in that exact place. The ground is not suddenly more treacherous, the trees no more menacing, but beyond the relative safety of the Cloud Recesses, his hammering heart sees the whole world is a death trap for this little child.

(He cannot bear to see a tiny body, he can’t, he can’t--)

Skidding to a stop, he wheels in place, eyes scouring everything at knee level and below. “A-Fu!” his throat is pinched, his mouth bone dry. “A-Fu?!”

The ground cover is thick with bushes, shrubs, trees both young and fallen. The sun shines spots into his eyes through the swaying leaf cover above, dappling the floor with shadow and light, dancing, blurring. Silence. Even the birdsong had stopped when this strange being had suddenly crashed into their peaceful little clearing. He sucks in a breath to call again--and then he hears it.

There is a small child crying somewhere nearby. 

Quiet and hoarse but unmistakable.

He isn't slow, gentle, or cautious or anything that a terrified child might need right now; something else has a hold of him, now. He blindly crashes through the brush towards the sound, half skidding down a slope until--until! There! 

A blur of white amongst tree roots halfway down, a curled shape and-- “A-Fu!”--a little face, smudged and red cheeked and tear stained raises and his little eyes light with recognition and he scrabbles, fumbling and crawling out as Xichen tears back up the slope--slips, rights himself--and reaches and the boy throws himself off the lip of the hollow and into his arms, colliding hard with his chest like his heart coming home. 

He staggers, momentum and sudden weakness buckling his knees. A gnarled tree catches his side and he slides them down into the huddle of its roots, curled around him. Against his chest, wrapped in his arms, A-Fu is damp and chilly. He is covered in muck and sticks and burrs but he’s alive--alive--safe and hiccuping and piteously hoarse, tangling his hands through Xichen’s hair as he clutches him back, gasping.

He can breathe. He can finally breathe again.

Some unnameable agony, like some wild beast, is thrashing, welling up, bursting from his chest. It shakes him, tearing at his throat, his heart, his lungs, burning. It’s not relief. It's not fear. It’s…

Heedless of stitches cracking and bursting, he yanks his thicker outer robes open and over the child, tucking him deep into the pocket of warmth. He can feel him shivering, his tiny heart speeding.

He had forgotten that his head is so warm, that his hands are so tiny, just how real his weight is in his arms. When he buries his nose in the baby fluff of his hair, under the dirt and musty forest chill is that wild-sweet child smell he remembers from carrying him for days beneath his chin--and long ago from when Wangji was young. 

He tries to pull back to check him for injuries, for bruising, but he latches onto his neck and sobs. Mere minutes before, Xichen had never wanted to hear another scream again--but now he wishes A-Fu’s cries were as loud as the first day he held him, deafening and demanding, sure and strong in their conviction. These sobs are private, weak, exhausted little things. Not calling for attention. No longer certain of a trusted adult’s return.

“P’ease,” he croaks and that pain, that pressure bears down on Xichen and it feels like drowning; it feels like dying.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m here,” he whispers back, thick and choked (that thing inside him that aches, that wails, that loves is strangling him), and he draws up his knees, he wraps his robes tighter and rocks and rocks them both as it breaks--all of it, calving and crashing and surging and molten and ugly and broken--and he wants to beg ‘scream, little love, scream your heart out; someone is coming, someone will always come,’ but he doesn't have enough breath as it tears from his locked throat in silent sobs, because with unworthy hands and heart, he holds this blameless little life that has wandered through the halls of his heart leaving muddy fingerprints, and does the cruelest, most selfish thing he can ever recall doing. 

He realizes that he cannot let him go again. 

[stiltonbasket]

Hi, I love all your fics and adored the one with fem!Wei Wuxian who seems even more of a chaos goblin than her canon counterpart and tries to break apart her engagement to LWJ. Could we see some more of what of what happens after LWJ moves into the Burial Mounds, perhaps how Wen Qing realizes that this man is hopelessly in love with his oblivious fiancee and maybe tries to prod them together (bonus points for LWJ being so obvious Wen Ning, Granny and the rest of the Wens notice XD).

"They need a chaperone."

"They don't need a chaperone."

"They do," Popo insists, watching with enormous eyes as Lan Wangji glides up to Wei Wuxian and offers—for what must be the eleventh time that week—to take over her chores in the vegetable field, presumably so that Wei Wuxian can spend her time improving the wards around the Burial Mounds instead. "Oh, good heavens. I'm nearly eighty years old, and I've never seen a man looking at a maiden like that."

"Be that as it may," Wen Qing says doggedly, "they have no need of a chaperone. Wei Wuxian ended their engagement before she seceded from the Jiang clan, and neither she nor Hanguang-jun chose the betrothal to begin with."

"They don't need a chaperone because Wei-guniang doesn't know that Hanguang-jun is in love with her," Wen Ning mutters, from the grimy depths of the lotus pond at Wen Qing's right. "When Lan-zongzhu visited last week, he told me that Hanguang-jun cried like a baby after Wei-guniang refused to marry him. I think she likes him, too, but she doesn't seem affected at all."

Two tiny fingers pluck at Wen Qing's skirt, and she glances down to find Wen Yuan trying to stand on her shoes, grasping a fold of her gown in one hand and a grubby stuffed tiger in the other.

"What is it, A-Yuan?" she asks. "Are you hungry? Xian-jiejie will feed you in just a little while, so be patient until the congee finishes boiling."

"A-Yuan's not hungry," the little boy says, before putting Hu-shixiong's tail in his mouth. "But, jiejie—Lan-gege loves Xian-jie very much! Gege told A-Yuan!"

At this juncture, Wen Binbin materializes at Wen Qing's right with Uncles Three through Six trailing behind her.

"How long were they engaged, Qingqing?" she asks, in a conspiratorial whisper. "We never heard much news from the other sects in Dafan—but you and A-Ning went to school with them, so you must know something."

Wen Qing sighs.

"A-Xian's parents contracted the betrothal before they passed away," she replies, "but they didn't meet until the year Lan Wangji turned eleven."

Popo clasps her hands in delight. "Were they childhood friends, then?"

"Of a sort," Wen Qing acknowledges, frowning. "I once heard someone say that Hanguang-jun started sewing toy frogs for their future children when he was only a boy, but that can't possibly be true."

She feels another soft tug at her skirt. "Qing-jiejie, A-Yuan wants a frog."

"Hanguang-jun can make you one, Yuan'er. And the part about the frogs is true," A-Ning pipes up, tossing a seed-filled lotus pod to Wen Binbin. "She had one of them with her in the dungeon at Bu Ye Tian when I went to bring medicine to the prisoners during the indoctrination camp."

"Really?" Fourth Uncle gasps. "She carried Hanguang-jun's gifts all the way to Qishan, so that they could comfort her in her time of need?"

"Zewu-jun had better be thinking of a way to have the betrothal reinstated," Wen Qing says, crossing her arms in frustration. "Why did Wei Wuxian break it in the first place? Hanguang-jun would have honored the engagement no matter how the jianghu dared to slander her."

"I suppose that's why," Wen Ning says morosely. "She's afraid that Hanguang-jun will stand by her, no matter what she does—"

"A foolish thing to be frightened of, if you ask me," Wen Binbin mutters. "There are worse things in the world than a devoted husband."

"—and that he might suffer for it. It's difficult to tell, but she loves him just as much as he loves her."

At this, A-Yuan beams like a miniature sun and toddles over to the edge of the pond.

"Really, Ning-shushu?" he asks, enchanted. "Can Jiejie have a wedding?"

"I suppose she can, if Hanguang-jun asks for her hand in marriage again."

Fifth Uncle nods and strokes his chin. "But how can he muster up the courage to ask if Wei-guniang treats him so coldly?"

"I saw her sneaking a second helping of chicken into his porridge the other day," Liu-shu mutters. "If that is a cold woman, Langdan, then I've never met a tender-hearted one."

At this juncture, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji bow to one another and go their separate ways, having reached some kind of agreement about the wards and Wei Wuxian's daily chores. Wei Wuxian gathers up the powdered cinnabar she was sunning and retreats into the cave that serves as her workshop and bedchamber; and Lan Wangji goes off to fetch the laundry from the patch of grass by the potato field, where it had been hung up to dry early that morning.

The Wens disperse as well, not wishing to be caught gossiping in broad daylight by the very subject of their discussion. Popo takes Wen Yuan back to her little house for a bath, dragging A-Ning along with her; and Wen Qing dives into her little infirmary, leaving the door open a crack so that she can eavesdrop on the would-be couple if Lan Wangji seeks A-Xian out again.

And since Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun could not avoid one another if their lives depended on it, Wen Qing overhears them discussing the subject of A-Yuan's education less than a quarter-shichen later.

"After all of this is over, I suspect the Wens will be sent to the Cloud Recesses," Lan Wangji says quietly. "I do not think they would be at ease living in close proximity to Jiang-zongzhu, and Xiongzhang has set aside three living compounds for them close to his Hanshi. What is more, A-Yuan would be allowed all the privileges of an inner disciple if he were educated there—and he would not have to surrender his family name, either."

"You'd take him in as an inner disciple?" Wei Wuxian's voice is both louder and more indistinct than Hanguang-jun's, somehow, floating back to Wen Qing in bits and pieces as if it had passed through a veil of thick fog on the way. "I suppose that's for Popo and the others to decide if Zewu-jun has already made the offer, but what if the other disciples mistreat him? I won't stand for it, Lan Zhan."

"He will be my ward, since his parents have passed on: so that should be sufficient to keep him safe. And if you join the Wens in Gusu, Yuan'er will have your protection as well."

A moment's silence, and then:

"Do you mean to return to Lotus Pier when the Dafan clan is granted amnesty?" Hanguang-jun inquires, sounding positively heartbroken. "I—how will they go on without you, Wei Ying? A-Yuan scarcely leaves your side now that he is beginning to forget the horror of the camps, and Wen Ning—"

"I don't intend to go back to Yunmeng," Wei Wuxian says at length, after a pause that lasted the span of about seven perilously sluggish heartbeats. "My place is with the Wens now, I think. There should be someone at the Cloud Recesses who can guard them night and day, out of love for them and not under orders from you or Lan-zongzhu; so wherever they go, I will follow."

Though Wen Qing cannot see him, the soft, stricken pitch of Hanguang-jun's voice is proof that his heart had come very near to melting.

"En, that is good," he murmurs. "It is settled, then."

And with that, the two of them depart together, their footsteps fading away down the old dirt track that leads to Sishu's favorite apple grove.

They belong together, Wen Qing thinks fondly, before turning towards the heap of dried herbs awaiting her attention on her desk. And I pray that some day soon—Heaven willing—A-Xian will realize it, as well.

[quotablefanfiction]

“Can you not remind me how many people I have to beat up?” Jiang Cheng whispers furiously back. “I need to suppress that from my memory so I can focus during the conference!” “There’s a list?” Wei Wuxian asks, more teasing then actually surprised. Of course, Jiang Cheng would have a list of people he wants to beat up.

Jiang Cheng needs to calm down (chp. 9)

could you find a way to let me down slowly, if you’re leaving baby let me down slowly by ravenditefairylights (AO3) Mo Dao Zu Shi – Mature – Lan Zhan/Wei Ying, Jiang Yanli/Jin Zixuan, Past Wei Ying/Nie Mingjue #Alternate Universe #Canon Divergence #Golden Core Reveal #Implied/Referenced Sex #Miscommunication #Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #Angst with a Happy Ending #Mutual Pining #Unreliable Narrator #Self-Esteem Issues #Protective Siblings #Trauma #Slightly Dubious Consent #Drunk Sex #Chronic Pain #Getting Together #Fix-It of Sorts #PTSD #Twin Prides of Yunmeng Feels

Wei Wuxian, after a series of misunderstandings that deteriorate his relationship with Lan Wangji seemingly for good, decides to reveal the truth about the restoration of Jiang Cheng’s core on his own volition. He’s entirely prepared to be kicked out of the sect, but not as prepared as he should be for the depth of his family’s love and loyalty.

The revelation itself changes nothing, but his siblings’ stubbornness and their faith in him might just change everything for the better.

[rayan12sworld]

💠💙Seen and not heard

By:eatmyass

Summary:

Lan Wangji feels his heart break. He wishes he could scoop the children up and hide them somewhere, where nothing will ever hurt them again. “Please, all of you eat,” he pleads. “There will always be enough from now on. It is my promise.”

“You’re too good, Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian sighs. “You’ll make a wonderful father someday.”

“I will have learnt from the best,” he nods at Wei Wuxian. The man’s cheeks fill with colour so pretty, Lan Wangji has to turn away entirely in order to breathe again.

———

A storm thunders violently, the forest howls in pain, and children are disappearing into the night. Amongst it all, Lan Wangji encounters a strange, beautiful man. And his five children.

Chapter:1/1

Words:51,

Status:completed

Relax, Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian whispers, sensing how tense he is. “I won’t bite.” That is the least of Lan Wangji’s concerns. If anyone will bite, it will likely not be Wei Wuxian.

~~

What else is there to see in Gusu, apart from great wine and beautiful men?” He grins, turning onto his side to properly face Lan Wangji. Everything , Lan Wangji thinks. Nothing . All that is missing is you. Instead he says, “Mountains, clouds that can be touched, snowfall in the winter. Gentians.” If he closes his eyes, he can feel the soft petals against his skin. “It is quiet, peaceful.” “Then we’ll be a terrible match, Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian says. “Gusu and I.” Lan Wangji feels something tug inside of him. He is not sure what comes over him as he says, “Laughter fills the emptiness of peace.”

~~

Lan Wangji throws himself at Wei Wuxian, holding him tight in his arms, so close, too close, not close enough. “You are okay? You are all okay?” “ Oh, Lan Zhan. Yes, yes ,” Wei Wuxian responds, frantic. “Are you okay?” Lan Wangji pulls back an inch, just to take Wei Wuxian’s face into his hands and press a fervid kiss to his forehead. “Safe.” Wei Wuxian buries himself into Lan Wangji’s chest, regardless of the blood he must be covered in, holding on tight. “Safe. You’re safe. My babies are safe,” he whispers. Lan Wangji can’t help but kiss the top of his head once more, stroking his hair gently

~~

[wangxianficfinder]

Arranged Marriage

~*~

Marriage Principles series by Fahye (E, 38k, wangxian, LXC/JGY, canon divergence, arranged betrothal)

❤️ I Started From the Bottom/And Now I’m Rich by x_los (E, 57k, WangXian, WWX/Others, Mutual Pining, Marriage of Convenience, Arranged Marriage, No Sunshot Campaign, Fix-It, WQ Lives, Transmigration, Time Travel, Weddings, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy, Black Widow, Protective Siblings, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Sugar Baby, consort, Politics, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Crack Treated Seriously)

An Elegant Solution by giraffeter (E, 205k, niewangxian, canon divergence, arranged marriage, friends to lovers, fix-it, everyone lives au, courtship, polyamory, smut, Mojo’s bookmark)

cloudy autumn heaps the sky by anatheme (T, 23k, WangXian, Fantasy, Secret Identity, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Timeline What Timeline, wwx is a little older here, wwx piling gifts on lwj and encouraging hoarding tendencies, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Arranged Marriage, of sorts)

The Oriole Behind You by mercyandmagic (M, 97k, wangxian, LXC/JGY, JYL/JZX, JC/LQY, many other pairings, arranged marriage, greatest matchmaker WRH, family feels, angst w/ happy ending, everyone lives au)

of all the hands by typefortydeductions (E, 51k, wangxian, canon divergence, arranged marriage, emperor LXC, PTSD, nightmares, dual cultivation, mental health issues, fluff & angst, consensual non-con, pining, politics) 

💖 sweet chaos by eachandeverydimension (G, 86k, wangxian, arranged marriage, different first meeting, falling in love, getting together, lwj in lotus pier, Chinese culture)

💖 hot necromancer singles seeking dom daddies in your area by Mikkeneko (M, 19k, wangxian, yiling wei sect au, BDSM scene, dom/sub, brat wwx, rope bondage, caning, aftercare)

Neatly Arranged by thunderwear (T, 45k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, lwj’s mother is here but only briefly, RIP, Shenanigans, Fix-It, of sorts, Canonical Character Death, but not all, did i forget to tag pining, because this fic is like 90 percent pining, Hurt/Comfort)

❤️ a stone to break your soul, a song to save it by rikke (M, 180k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, arranged marriage)

Into the Oubliette by Ruixx (M, 121k, WIP, WangXian, Growing Up, Fix-It of Sorts, Arranged Marriage, Time Travel, Sibling Bonding, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Canon Divergence, Light BDSM, Breathplay, Wwx protection squad, Sunshot Campaign, War Politics, Hostage JYL, Visions, LXC Redemption, general lwj, Internal Sect, Politics, Good Uncle LQR, Lan OC’s, No Golden Core Transfer, Empire Building)

Baby Whisperer Wei Wuxian by Preludian_Staves (T, 15k, WangXian, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Canon Divergence, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Arranged Marriage, (eventually for reasons), endgame wangxian, Parent-Child Relationship, Soft WWX, Pining LWJ, Good Parent WWX, WWX Is Good With Children, Single Parent WWX, Fluff and Angst, Rituals, Protective WWX, Protective LWJ, Developing Relationship)

Instead of rabbits, I'll give you this by Bloodcoral (T, 94k, WangXian, XiCheng, Canon Divergence, Angst, WWX is a mess, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, LXC is the best, JYL deserves much better, no really...she does, Arranged Marriage, Did I mention angst, Canon Rewrite, Some people do die...just the bad ones, well adjusted Xue Yang)

Polishing Jade by Starra (M, 252k, WangXian, Modern AU, Arranged Marriage, Awkward Dates, Slice of Life, Most likely OOCness, Falling In Love, Everyone Needs A Hug Loneliness, Feelings Realization, Drinking to Cope, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, slow-ish build, Eventual Cohabitation)

The Distance Between Fondness and Something Akin to Love by countingcr0ws (M, 20k, wangxian, arranged marriage au, not canon compliant, war, romance, mistaken identity, impersonation, awkward flirting, wedding planning, Chinese tradition)

a light hidden and singing by occultings (microcomets) (E, 48k, wangxian, arranged marriage, pining, getting together, slow burn, misunderstandings, miscommunication, blood & injury, happy ending, smut)

A Little Stabbing by tuesday (T, 4k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Minor Violence, Light Angst)

use the wood brought in by the tide by Lirazel (M, 27k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Hurt/Comfort, Warning for Physical Abuse, Falling In Love With Your Husband, pining for your husband, Sibling solidarity, dealing with your in-laws, lwj's typical inner maelstrom of emotions, WWX Whump, Protective!LWJ, lwj&jyl friendship, intimate hair brushing, Skinny Dipping, Growing Up, Establishing boundaries)

The Measure of Happiness by Anonymous (T, 5k, WangXian, misunderstandings galore, Pining your name is WWX, Arranged Marriage, No Sunshot Campaign, Alternate Meetings)

like the sun coming out by Anonymous (T, 2k, WangXian, No Sunshot Campaign, Good Uncle LQR, Supportive LQR, Protective LQR, Arranged Marriage, Domestic Hurt/Comfort, Miscommunication, Light Angst, Crack Treated Seriously)

True Gold Fears No Fire by defractum (nyargles) (M, 64k, WIP, WangXian,  Royalty AU, Ancient China, Wuxia, Historical Inaccuracy, Arranged Marriage, Identity Porn, Mutual Pining, Emperor!LWJ, empress!wwx, Eventual Happy Ending, Misunderstandings) Imperial cultivator au with very fun identity shenanigans.

rebuttable presumption masterpost by sarah-yyy

permissive presumption by sarahyyy (G, 7k, WangXian, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Pining, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings)

🧡 hypothetically, of course by johnnyfucksup (G, 22k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Character Study, Kinda, Inter-sect politics, a little bit, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Strangers to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, Falling In Love, The Mortifying Ordeal of Falling In Love With Your Betrothed, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, very awkward ones at that, Slow Burn Speedrun)

Lead Me On Through by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 54k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Practice Kissing, practice other things, horny boys in love, questionable logic, Questionable Choices, slight knives, Happy Ending)

Give Me a Chance to Fall by brooklinegirl (E, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage)

The Scarlet Lotus by rainbowninja167 (M, 137k, WangXian, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Identity, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical war crimes, Yunmeng Bros, the mortifying ordeal of getting seduced by your own husband, nonlinear chronology we die like cql, just kidding nobody dies in this fic, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication)

Marriage Woe-nos! Series by oleanderedits (G, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Spite Courting, Comedy, fake dating to real dating, or maybe it was never fake?, Everyone else's p.o.v., Crass language)

With No Particular Affection by Chrononautical (E, 92k, WangXian, Modern AU, Arranged Marriage, Kid Fic, Miscommunication, Family Drama, JFM and YZY’s A+ Parenting, Good Uncle JC, Wedding Fluff, Genius WWX, Street Kid WWX, Homelessness, Rich LWJ, Oblivious WWX, Cinnamon Roll WN, Implied/Referenced Suicide, WWX Has a Pregnancy Kink, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst)

I Have Arranged to Tie You to Me by xxxMiaHikarixxx (G, 47k, WIP, WangXian, Lan protective team, Time Travel, Past, LWJ oriented, Arranged Marriage, Boys In Love, Soulmates, Fix-It, Jiang siblings, not jiang parents friendly, JC is slowly becoming a good sibling, Soft LWJ, Protective LWJ, Genius WWX)

🔒 Only with Time by adrian_kres (E, 7k, WangXian, WIP, Arranged Marriage, Modern with Magic, fast then slow burn, Mutual Pining, they each sort of think it's unrequited love, it's complicated, possible dubcon depending on your interpretation of events, please see the author's note for chapter 3, Hurt No Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, but it does eventually get better! promise!, WangXian Endgame)

~*~

Accidental/Drunk Marriage

~*~

Being Known series by dragongirlG (M, 42k, wangxian, canon divergence, cloud recesses study arc, drunken confessions, oblivious WWX, humor, fluff & crack, accidental betrothal, family drama, political alliances, arranged marriage)

Kingfisher Feathers by anonymous (E, 122k, WIP, WangXian, Royalty AU, Emperor LWJ, Concubine WWX, A/B/O, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Angst with a happy ending)

live from new york: an snl au Series by varnes (E/M, 105k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, Modern AU, SNL AU, slow burn, friends to lovers, pining, getting together, happy ending, Idiots in Love, and they were ROOMMATES, Frottage, Light Bondage, could not be lighter or gentler bondage, Secret Marriage, Accidental Marriage)

Magical Marriage Ribbons by starandrea (G, 2k, WangXian, Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, Accidental Marriage)

Falling for You Series by Harleydoll (M, 12k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mild Sexual Content, Light Bondage, POV WWX, Oblivious WWX, Pining LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, Accidental Relationship, JC is So Done, Wedding Planning, Fluff and Humor, WangXian get a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, POV LWJ, Supportive LXC)

Hangover by TriviasFolly (T, 83k, WangXian, Modern AU- College, Drinking, fluff? I guess, Las Vegas, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, drunk marriage, protective Jiang siblings, qiren being a bit of an asshole, Mental Health Issues, positive recovery, WangXian positivity, Healing)

Only Fools Rush In by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 27k, WangXian, Modern AU, Woke Up Married, alcohol use but no sex happens while drunk, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, what happens in Vegas etc etc)

Otherwise Engaged by DecemberCamie (G, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Professors, POV Outsider, Mutual Pining, Accidental Marriage, Getting Together)

Standing Engagement by x_los (E, 18k, WangXian, ChengQing, Misunderstandings, Accidental Engagement, Engagement, Sunshot Campaign, Golden Core Reveal, Canon-Typical Violence, Accidental Relationship, WQ Lives, Everybody Lives, Episode 19, Episode 21)

~*~

[frankencanon]

jiang cheng sees dead people au

after everything, jiang cheng finds himself experiencing frequent minor qi deviations — not that anyone realizes, since most of the time zidian will discharge the excess volatile qi to stop the qi deviation in its tracks before it can get too severe.¹

unfortunately, so many minor qi deviations have had a negative effect on his mental health — specifically, the worst problem would arguably be the hallucinations of his dead family.

it was something that started small but slowly got worse — at first, just whispers of speech that sounded eerily like his parents... eventually, full-on vivid hallucinations of his entire family — his parents, his sister, even his brother...

astonishingly, there actually is a possibility for a cure — it wouldn't be easy, and it wouldn't be quick, but there exists a solid chance...

alas! jiang cheng refuses to even consider it. he knows he should, but he simply cannot bring himself to — not when this is the closest thing to his family that he has left.

and sure, he has jin ling! but jin ling is naught but a baby at this point — he treasures him, of course, its his only sister's son afterall! but as much as it sickens him to admit, he would forfeit that little baby's life in an instant if it would get him his family back... even just one of them.

but time goes by, and jiang cheng grows to love jin ling as a son — as unwilling to give him up as he would be with jiang yanli herself.

but the thing about raising a baby, is that you don't really filter yourself around them. afterall, why would you? it's not like they're going to remember any of this anyway, not when they're still this small.

but. but. the act of not filtering yourself around a specific person... it can be habit forming. you can forget yourself. when alone with them, you can completely forget that you would normally censor these things around other people. afterall! you've never stopped yourself from doing it around them ever before!

this is all to say this: jin ling grows up with an uncle (father) who talks to people who aren't there.

over the years, there's a lot of confusion over it — times when jin ling thought, maybe, that he was talking to their ghosts... until he gets a little older, and actually learns about ghosts and how they work, and realizes that it can't be that...

he never asks his uncle about it, because ever since he was small any time that he would try to mention it or bring it up, his uncle would get angry and defensive; he would lie and insist that jin ling had heard wrong, that he hadn't been talking to anyone, that he had no idea what he was talking about...

eventually jin ling learned to stop asking... but he never stopped wondering. afterall, how could he? when jiang cheng would address those not-ghosts as a-die, a-niang, a-jie, and — most damning of all — wei wuxian.

he got older. his uncle stopped denying it, but would still avoid any questions about what they were...

(jiang cheng didn't want to admit to his nephew that his dear uncle was crazy and saw dead people... didn't want to worry him...)

but as time passed he slowly eased up enough that jin ling could mention it sometimes, offhand and casual-like... say things like, "is grandmother bothering you again?" or "you should listen to mom more!"

(jin ling may not know their personalities first hand, but he can infer things based off of what his uncle would say and how he'd re/act, the faces he'd make...)

time passed by, and he got older. eventually, jin ling learned what was wrong with his uncle. he learned about hallucinations and what they were, how they worked... he understood that the people his uncle saw and spoke to weren't real, they weren't there...

but he didn't do anything. afterall, uncle had always been like this and he seemed fine. some of the hallucinations bothered him, sure (*cough* madame yu *cough*) but others... jin ling can't even imagine trying to take jiang yanli, his mother, away from jiang cheng...

he knew about what caused the hallucinations, too — afterall, how could he not? jiang cheng raised him and would frequently endeavor to spend as much time with him as possible. it's only inevitable that eventually, one day, he would witness his uncle having a qi deviation.

it would either have to be during a time when he wasn't wearing zidian so the spiritual weapon could not ease his qi — perhaps while sleeping or bathing? — or the qi deviation would have to be severe enough that it overpowered zidian's attempts to mitigate it.

during this time, jin ling would finally find out about his uncle's frequent minor qi deviations. maybe it was while he was trying to sleep or bathe, and so when jin ling sees/shows up/happens upon him, jiang cheng has to ask his nephew — through gritted teeth slick with blood — to bring him zidian, quickly.

jin ling would watch as jiang cheng slid zidian on and it immediately started sparking harsher than he'd ever seen it do before. and he would be concerned, of course, that the sparks would hurt his uncle — and so to stop him from ripping it back off, jiang cheng would then have to go through the mortifying ordeal of admitting to your nephew that you secretly suffer from frequent minor qi deviations.

and of course, after that, jin ling would never be able to forget. and so any time he saw zidian going haywire with wild sparks, he would assume (correctly) that his uncle's qi was veering into the danger zone, and so out of fear for his uncle's safety and sanity he would do his absolute best to help his uncle calm down before he hurt himself.

of course, this gets interpreted incorrectly by outsiders — they see sect leader jiang getting pissed off, zidian throwing off sparks, and they see little jin ling frantically trying to calm his uncle down, fear clear in his eyes... it doesn't paint a good picture, suffice to say.

for years and years and years, no one outside of jin ling is aware of jiang cheng's struggles with hallucinations and qi deviations — right up until one day, wei wuxian is raised from the dead.

and, well... it's one thing to try to hide something from strangers — but siblings? they're a lot harder to fool.

(that's not entirely true — jin ling may know the most, and he may be the only one that jiang cheng is even semi-open about it with — but he's far from the only one to ever suspect anything, to notice anything. the closer a disciple is to jiang cheng, the higher up they are, and/or the more they interact with him, the more likely they are to know something is up — to notice the little things jiang cheng does that he thinks no one notices... but they do — they do notice. they just... choose not to say anything. to trust in their sect leader, who has yet to ever lead them astray.

...but they're not the only ones to notice something's up, and unfortunately the next person is a lot less nice... afterall, what with jin ling and all it is only inevitable that jiang cheng will end up spending a fair amount of time with jin guangyao... and, well... let's just say that the scene in the temple goes a lot differently in this au — what with all of the additional secrets jin guangyao has undoubtedly been gathering on jiang cheng...

maybe this is when wei wuxian and et all finally find out. maybe wei wuxian's been suspecting for some time that something's up with jiang cheng but he couldn't put his finger on quite what...

until jin guangyao unflinchingly announces it in front of everyone in the temple, without hesitation. he's been waiting to use this information, this blackmail, for a while now... and finally, the opportunity has arisen.)

---

¹idea for jiang cheng's qi deviations and zidian's effect on them from anonkun's "hating the hand life has dealt us" on ao3 (strongly recommend)

(it's a sort-of crossover fic with svsss about the og shen jiu being reincarnated as jiang cheng except when jiang cheng regains his memories of being shen jiu he flat out rejects them to the point of accidentally developing a sort of dissociative identity disorder where he sees himself and shen jiu as two separate people just inhabiting the same body)

[constellationdks]

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, And the longing in their eyes. Honestly? For the most part of the book n series I was like just kiss already!!

" Sometimes I wonder if you're ever gonna see

I'm not like the other boys, you're not like the other guys

I tell you I want you, but you don't listen to me!

I guess all I can do, is whisper in your ear~

Ooh, your kisses taste so sweet

Can't resist it, stay with me

And promise not to wake me if it's all part of a dream~

'Cause, baby, it feels like Heaven

Mon chéri ♡

Bonsoir, enchantée

Your hands on my face

Embrasse-moi, mon soleil

Say you'd die for me, baby ♡ "

- Mon Soleil

[robininthelabyrinth]

For the mini fill! LWJ is not just a few years younger than LXC - he's ten years younger, and definitely the precious baby of the Lan clan. If only his mother hadn't passed on her cannabilistic traits to her children, but especially to LWJ

continuation of the LWJ likes blood one

Some people might start to become concerned about Lan Wangji’s biting kink once they learned that his mother had been in the midst of transforming into a jiangshi during his birth, and that he himself had been infected by that transformation.

Not Wei Wuxian.

If anything, in his secret heart of hearts, he had to admit that he found it quite…compelling. A plus, rather than a minus – an extra little bit of danger, a frisson of excitement that wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t so risky. He knew that others would probably call him mad, especially Jiang Cheng, but he couldn’t help it, he liked it.

“Do you love me?” he whispered in Lan Wangji’s ear, knowing the answer even before Lan Wangji hummed in asset. “Do you hunger for me?”

“I would consume you,” Lan Wangji growled. “I would keep you in my stomach for all time, safe and protected.”

Wei Wuxian laughed.

The laugh turned into a choked-off moan when Lan Wangji buried his teeth in his neck.

It was a good sort of moan, but then, it was a good sort of bite.

“Don’t you forget it,” Wei Wuxian teased as soon as he could breathe again.

“Mm. Wei Ying is my favorite.”

And didn’t Wei Wuxian know it. Sure, Lan Wangji still went to his uncle and his brother when he wanted to see a bit of blood, but Wei Wuxian knew he was the one Lan Wangji truly lusted to see. His body, his blood…even Lan Qiren admitted that Lan Wangji’s desires were tied to love, and so Wei Wuxian knew that his lover’s desires were a reflection of the strength of his love for him.

So no, Wei Wuxian didn’t care that Lan Wangji might be considered odd.

As long as it was all his.

[darlingpwease]

tea and treats

your neighbor LAN WANGJI is very quiet, unsociable, and Wei Wuxian often says that "this handsome guy" should relax, to which you only answer vaguely. You have seen LAN WANGJI — coldly handsome, with the bearing of a king and serene golden eyes like the radiance of the morning sun. if he had been a little less emotional, you would have decided that in front of you was a statue of some majestic ancestor, in whose blood flowed the memory of dragons and former power, as if time itself stopped next to him. "He's kind, it's just hard for him to express his emotions," your neighbors explain to you, casting glances at the house, which even seemed to have a distance from other houses more than usual.

I mean the same thing! — Wuxian quite echoes the smiling neighbors, unable to resist his friendly expression, and turns to you, smiling like a fox. — He should just relax a little, after all, we are all neighbors! There must be neighborly cordiality and cohesion!

And it's not that you disagree, but fundamentally shake head under his clacking, returning to the arrangement of the house and to your baby. Wen Yuan is small, with sparkling eyes and a cute face like a bun, and Wuxian wraps arms around you, whispering on the verge of hearing that everything is fine now, and you agree that everything is fine now. Yuan is a smart and obedient child, and is more than gullible (or smart) to nod even in the car to the legend that you are leaving the last city, but he does not remember anything because he hit his head.

You don't run. And you're not hiding. You just need a change of scenery. But even this "truth" you do not reveal to your child, who hugging a toy in the form of a rabbit when it's your turn to put him to bed. It's not difficult — Yuan is very obedient, although sometimes he is capricious and clings to you, as if he is afraid that you will leave and never come back, so you and Wuxian try to hug him often and whisper that you will always be there. He is not your biological child, but that is how you are recorded in the "family" column.

That's why we should, — Wuxian begins in a soft voice when you go down to him and sit down next to him. His palm is warm, slightly rough, and squeezes your fingers tightly when you hug him, stroking comfortingly, making it clear that you are listening and hearing him. — We should.

Both of you are looking around when you hear a dull sound, but then you realize that it is an awakened Yuan, probably looking for water. Wuxian nods his head, smiling, although you can see how this smile is strained, more to let you know that he is fine than to really smile. He presses your hand to his cheek as if seeking protection before standing up, this time smiling sincerely.

“I'll take care of it, don't worry. Get some rest after everything that happened.”

He is really cute — especially when he laughs loudly, braids his hair into a careless braid, steals your clothes for himself and never wakes up in the morning, which is why you always take Yuan away "while mama Wuxian is sleeping", although you are sure that you heard his dramatically loud groan in response to words while Yuan looks with trusting adoring eyes at you, smiling, nodding happily. You are not even minimally connected with either Wuxian or Yuan — after all, you are a human being, and certainly do not have the need to hibernate in winter or freeze when the cold comes. But for some reason, calling Wuxian "mom" while you are "dad" is still funny.

LAN WANGJI is very handsome and beautiful, but as if surrounded by a cold aura, especially when you take Wuxian away like a little child (although you are not much older yourself — perhaps at your age it is natural to be still playful and mischievous, but for some reason you are still especially embarrassed in front of the cold beauty next door), apologizing to the neighbor, while he definitely wants to say something soothing to you, but can't, just gently nods briefly, letting you know that everything is fine, but you still feel shyness, seeing the whole range of emotions in his watery golden eyes, like a molten sun.

He is like a beautiful fairy, always moving with the sound of the wind, or a god who has descended from heaven, — but looks like a cat who has been splashed with water when Wuxian allows himself to hurry to explain everything in a habitually teasing manner, apparently unintentionally embarrassing LAN WANGJI with something, but you don't understand what — and not understand why Wuxian complains about his absolute lack of emotion, although you were sure that the "cold neighbor" was more than clear in his reaction and feelings. The glitter of the eyes, the trembling of the palms, pursed lips, a fleeting movement of the jaw, a slight tilt of the head, this overflow of gently golden in the iris, the trembling of the pupil — you are not sure if everything is fine with you, but for the first time you are so emotional to someone familiarly unfamiliar, and Wuxian shows you the tip of the red tongue with a playfully dissatisfied expression alluding to the fact that you sound like a bore.

Only at home he allow himself to take you by the hand as a warning and say that something is wrong with him — and if he can protect himself, then you are only a human, even if unusual. Of course, he is not against "interspecies romance", and no, he does not discriminate at all or believes that you should start being wary of a neighbor or stay at home ("what if he really is "ours" and his kind of behavior will be classified as courtship?"), 'but just... try not to be too keen on someone who clearly behaves strangely until you know why he behaves this way, and whether he is only "just unemotional" or he is "ours and therefore alone, since it is characteristic for his species to eat partners immediately after mating," alright?'

It's embarrassing for you, but you understand that Wuxian only cares about you — after everything that happened, and after you yourself went to LAN WANGJI'S house just to make sure that Wuxian is okay, without thinking for a moment about anything else, it's awkward to dismiss his concern.

However, you begin to doubt our confident "disinterest in this guy" when LAN WANGJI nods to you in the morning as a greeting, looks at you with shining interissing eyes when you pass by (although Wuxian only replies that you are imagining all this brilliance) and hesitantly tries to strike up a conversation if you are needed to wait together, as if trying to find at least one reason if only you would start talking to him and tell him more about yourself, and although LAN WANGJI looks like a god or fairy, he looks more like a child unwrapping a gift at moments when you drag him into a dialogue, which rather looks like your monologue and “mgm”, but you're fine seeing that he's genuinely interested.

... He is cute, in fact — despite the bandage on forehead and taciturnity, almost unsociability, as if building thick invisible walls, and his strange manners, like a person who grew up all his life away from people and was only recently released to a place where there is someone else around, he is almost like a fawn who wandered into a human settlement and not understanding what everyone wants from him.

(“if he is "ours" then such an observation is even more disturbing considering what type of ours are those who live separately from people” quiet wuxian quiet just be quiet and be quiet he is handsome and seems to react to courtship too; you have the right to finally flirt with someone)

Yuan is also not against LAN WANGJI — at least, he is not afraid of him and even happily greets when from time to time you meet your neighbor on the street, although sometimes it looks like you or he are guarding each other, especially when you have been living in your new house for almost a year a quiet place where Yuan can grow like an ordinary cub while Wuxian slowly builds a "nest", having already managed to survive one hibernation and realizing what he lacks. Yuan is easier, he has not yet become fully "ours", so he is only a little more sleepy, but LAN WANGJI, seeing the child's sleepy eyes in the morning, gently nod and one evening brings a bunch of herbs, explaining that it helps him wake up early.

And it works.

And you are not sure if this is still "normal" or "Wuxian turned out to be right again in what you didn't want him to be right."

... But if LAN WANGJI was a hunter, he would have already attacked, right?

You hesitate to use the herb, fearing that it may be a slow poison, but not being able to disturb the dream of Wuxian and clarify with him. You just smile guiltily, explaining what you are using, but it doesn't work too well, and LAN WANGJI calmly nods, looking with his golden eyes, although you are sure that you see in them a shade of resentment and sadness, determined that you don't trust him — and for some reason you can't help but be ashamed, bringing homemade treats as an apology, as a thank you for the herbs that you hid in your room.

LAN WANGJI'S hands are slightly cold (always or because of the weather?); he hesitates a little when takes the sweets, before slightly tilting his head, offering to come to him "for tea" in a slightly trembling, deep, pleasant voice, to "taste them together," and you are not sure what shade glitters and darkens in his iris — and for a moment almost agree, as if forgetting, before the memories about Yuan are flooding in on you. He purses lip for a moment, and the shade in eyes darkens, becoming richer especially around the narrowed pupil, but he only nods a little sharply, saying that "it's okay," and you can't help but hurry up with "we can next time," just like you usually calming Yuan, although you are sure that LAN WANGJI already definitely at the age when such things don't work — but his pupil dilates along with the melting of the atmosphere around.

You are drinking tea in the kitchen with your neighbor with sweets that he has prepared, and although it is quiet around, for some reason you feel very good next to him, as if you are really at home while he is sitting next to you; the whitish steam caresses him as if carved from ice, but so sweet to the heart the face. He looks like a cute little rabbit.

Wuxian is a little puzzled when he sees how close you have become with LAN WANGJI in one winter, but you just brush it off, assuring that LAN WANGJI is just a gentle sweet heart hiding it behind cold beauty. About the questions about the grass, he only nods vaguely — yes, it is absolutely safe and actually helps to cope with the consequences of the cold for Yuan and himself, but the fact that LAN WANGJI had this herbs, and that he brought...

You have nothing to say to prejudices.

But even then, LAN WANGJI doesn't attack.

He's almost like a family friend. Quiet, silent, with long fluffy eyelashes, eyes of melted gold and black hair, and even his bandage seems natural and normal — Yuan begins to warm up to him significantly and even love, and Wuxian also lowers his protection, agreeing that he can just be "supportive", — it is not necessary for him to be a hunter or "our", right? — perhaps he is the same human as you, who just lives nearby and decided to help. After all, even if he looks dangerous, LAN WANGJI behaves innocuously and gently, and you are unexpectedly willing to agree with such words. Although you can't be sure of anything, especially after everything that has happened, you like to think that LAN WANGJI is "good" and that he is not dangerous, more like an unsociable resident or some kind of witch than a dangerous hunter collecting the heads of "ours".

When Yuan goes with you to LAN WANGJI'S house on Halloween, immediately after a festive dinner at the house on the occasion of Wuxian's birthday, to give him a piece of cake and get sweets ("almost like an exchange for treats!"), you can't deny that for some reason LAN WANGJI is especially attractive today — with a pointed hat, an unusually soft smile, golden eyes in which bloody flames from candles in pumpkins dance, for some reason your heart starts beating faster, and you don't know if it's delight, excitement or fear, especially when you notice how organically he looks surrounded by these "mystical" things, as if not decorating the house at all, but real — cobwebs, carved men, the play of shadows and the glare of fire, like a bonfire, and a hat. A hat that should rather make you laugh, but for some reason makes you shiver more.

You had the same feelings when you first caught Wuxian drinking blood. When his pointed narrow pupils were looking at you — only now WAN LANJI'S dilated pupils are looking at you, as if he understands everything and gently teases you, confirming, but you don't understand what exactly he is confirming.

When Yuan runs away further, jumping off the steps, his hot fingers gently touch you, although you know how selective he is in touching, as if he is squeamish — and the thought that he is comfortable touching you for some reason sears from the inside.

A gift, — you don't know why, but for a moment your instincts scream not to accept a little candy in the form of a rabbit, as if something irreparable will happen if you do this, but his eyes are magnetizing. — ... Don't forget.

You don't understand what he's talking about, but for some reason you nod, to which he repeats with the same nod, letting you go.

“Don't forget. It's a promise.”

His voice sounds in your ears even when you walk next to him, even when you come back, even when Wuxian solicitously asks what's wrong — but you just shake your head, assuring that it's just alcohol.

You don't understand why you're walking at night.

And you don't understand where you're going.

And why it's snowing outside.

LAN WANGJI'S eyes are like melted gold, but now it looks more like the radiance of the intoxicating sun.

“Welcome for tea and treats.”

[sillygoofyqueer]

The Untamed review: episode three!!!

Nooo, the tavern has been fully booked, who did this to them 😔

PRETTY WOMEN

MIANMIAN!!!!!!!!

Checking them out, Wei Wuxian??

Of course it's the Jin clan, god, money-hungry bastards

Steal it. You know you want to.

Wei Wuxian, what are you up to???

Don't put the blame on other people!!!

Go on Mianmian, you're such a badass

Hehe, Yuando

Look at him giggle!!

You fucking flirt, it's funny that you're so gay as well

And now you introduce yourself, white /aff

She's such a good wing woman, I like this girl

GO ON MIANMIAN!!!!!

He's not a playboy, he's gay

I love them both so so kuch

JIANG YANLI!!!!!

My poor baby girl

Who the fuck is kicking them out

Kill him. Just- kill him.

Who's this bro criticising everything???

Mianmian, it's not your fault he's rich 😒

As if he needs all those people

Look at her, ain't she so pretty??

What the fuck is Wei Wuxian holding?? A stick

Who does this bozo think he is

Shut your mouth, bozo

Jiang Cheng is being too civil

Let Wei Wuxian at 'em

Nobody needs that many servants

Hehehehehe, he's such a tease.

Bro's like 'don't touch me peasant'

Drawing your sword against WEI WUXIAN?? Dumbass

Bbg, you deserve so much better. You're much prettier than him.

So neat 😔

FUCKING RUDE

The bozo needs to learn how to whisper

Wei Wuxian, you're ruining the tension

I want to flick my sleeves as well

THEIR TICKETS!!!!

They were kicked out by a pompous monster

He's always thinking of alcohol

Who knows why they were arranged to be married

THE SIMULTANEOUS SHRUG

CLOUD RECESSES!!!!!!!

Bros can't even get in

They look very good in white

LAN WANGJI!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He's very good at hearing, no point whispering

What's up with him???

Bro's chilling

Look, it's his boyfriend

The way his eyes stay on Wei Wuxian for a moment

He's very stern, leave him alone

Wei Wuxian looks like he's gonna cry

Ahhhh!! AHHHHHH!!

The silencing spell!!!!!!!!

I like how he hits Jiang Cheng, like it's his fault

LAN WANGJI PAUSED FOR HIM, AHHHHH

He's literally just going to find the invitations, don't worry

It looks chilly lmao

Awww, Wei Wuxian is not one to be easily embarrassed

Jiang Yanli 😭😭😭

Who's that??

LAN WANGJI!!!????!??!

He literally got everything and now he's been ditched

Alcoholic 😔

Wei Wuxian looks so chuffed with it

What is bro doing??? HE JUST BROKE IT

Look at him, so jolly with himself

He's fucking clambering around like a little squirrel

"Oh, hey boyfriend"

Look at him glare, I'm cackling

The fucking side eye

The way he clutches the alcohol so protectively

He's giggling so much

HE'S TRYING TO SHARE THE ALCOHOL WHAT A GUY

Trying to silence you because you're so hot, my guy

Even their fighting is gay for each other

Okay, seriously, what the fuck is Wei Wuxian holding in his hands??

Bro, guy has actual skills and you're shocked??? What a guy

Why can't someone gay fight with me like this?

Literally threw himself off a building just to save his alcohol

"turn around" EYOOOOOO FOR WHAT

DON'T INSULT YOUR BOYFRIEND'S CLAN, WHORE I LOVE YOU

"I can drink OUTSIDE the Lan boundaries, right?"

The way Lan Zhan grumbles like a toddler

The silencing spell, what a guy, I really love Lan Wangji

What's wrong with this fool? That looks nasty.

Hay pretty boy LAN XICHEN XOXOXO

Oh. Lan Qiren too. Hi.

Wangji shouldn't be bringing around any corpses.

CULTIVATORS GOING MISSING?!?????

Lan Qiren what are you doing bestie

He looks angry hahahaha

Grumble grumble grumble "who's making that noise?" THE STAIN UPON YOUR CAREER

Lan Xichen is being so polite and kind compared to Lan Wangji, I have to wonder how many people preferred him to Lan Zhan upon first watching this

"I can't blame the innocent, but I can't defame our rules 😔" so sincere

"how would you like to punish this guy?" Lan Xichen, I love you, but how the fuck would Lan Wangji ever want to punish his boyfriend?

TRANSCRIBE THE PRINCIPLES THREE HUNDRED TIMES???!?! LAN WANGJI, YOU SADIST

The fear in Wei Wuxian's eyes is my favourite part I think, really brings it all together

Anything but that, lmaooo

"bro, get rid of the silencing spell, pleeeaaaseee 🥺"

Bro is literally lying, I love him.

The hesitance as he backs away, cackling

BLAMING IT ON JIN ZIXUAN!!!! THAT'S MY BOY!

At least he's being honest about the Emperor's Smile.

"I didn't even get a sip before he broke oneee 😔😭" He's just fucking complaining and I love him for it

I love that Lan Wangji is just staring into the distance casually without any sort of expression. He's so me

He may have violated the principles, but he's just a little guy.

Of course he can't.

"also, he helped the Jiangs get in-" "brooooo, why would you drop me in like that???" Is what I think Lan Wangji would say if he talked often

The romantic music playing I'm cackling

THE CHEEKY SMILLLEEEEEE

He looks so teasing as he wanders over, who couldn't fall in love with that

Bro's grasping his sword because he has never felt this gay in his life

The puppy dog eyes "I'm sorry, okay? 🥺🥺🥺" Is killing me. I too would become gay for this guy.

Lan Xichen smells the gay tension and cuts through it with a sword

THE POUT HAHAHAHA

WOAH. Dead body. He's literally calling them out.

NIGHTLESS CITY?!??!

WEN QING YOU'RE SO PRETTY!!!!

Booo, not Wen Chao.

Stop. Trying. To. Do. Evil.

Take your brother with you, who knows what they'll do to MY LITTLE MAN.

Yes, yes I am.

Wen Qing nooooo

You've bowed three times now

Show off.

Nah, the wind is fucking insane right now

THE CORPSE IS SITTING UP AAAAAHHH

Wei Wuxian is literally in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He's literally a genius, oh my god.

Lan Wangji wanting to be in sync with him ahhahaha

"he's like a puppet" me too

Brilliant makeup, by the way. Props.

Gazing into the moon like any good gay person would.

Brotherly bonding timeeeee.

Chatting about the corpse in the other room lmao

I wouldn't mind living in Gusu.

HE'S JUST GOTTEN BACK BRO. I love them so so much.

He probably has been too strict on the gay guy. But they're actually such a good team.

HE WANTS HIM TO MAKE FRIENDS!!!

Name dropping Wei Ying, matchmaking for real

Lan Wangji looks pissed but he's just kind of in love, it's fine.

Which corpse are you? Tag yourself.

XUE YANG, YOU VILE LITTLE THING. HOW ARE YOU.

Fuck off Wen one name or another

L there's only a shard of it.

Xue Yang is such a guy, I love him so much. Listen to him giggle.

Just kill him yourself, Xue Yang.

I'm going to fucking eat him, PLATONICALLY.

Watch him strut!

Bro wants to beat the clan, he knows how to barter with someone #icon.

[side-salami]

That was his son, that was a child who thought of him as a father. He ached with the need to take a better look at him, struggling to not impulsively take him out of Lan Wangji’s hands. “Can I hold him?”

“Of course.”

Lan Wangji came over to him and carefully arranged the baby in his arms. For a moment the cold scent of sandalwood enveloped him and then he was left with his son in his hold. He'd never been a person who paid much attention to babies before, but the moment he turned in his arms, little fist latching onto his shirt, Wei Wuxian was convinced that this was the cutest one he'd ever seen.

Lan Yuan snuggled into his chest much like he did Lan Wangji's earlier, letting out a sigh of contentment. It was a wonder for Wei Wuxian to see such an action reflected back at him, and as though that wasn't enough, the little boy whispered, so softly he almost didn't hear it, "Die…" 

Any doubts he had about Lan Wangji's story were gone at that moment. He knew it was possible that he wasn't the one A-Yuan was calling for, but even so, something deep within his bones felt that acknowledgement.

This was it. Wei Wuxian had a son.

From miixz amazing fic Turnabout that I've had the pleasure working with♡

This fic is a contribution for the MXTX Epic Journeys Big Bang

Give this lovely fic and the even more lovely @miixz all the love they deserve!

[stiltonbasket]

hi!! since you’re the nielan master, could you do nielan in one of your universes where they end up happy? thank you <3

"Diedie?" a tiny voice whispers in Nie Mingjue's ear. "Diedie, wake up."

Nie Mingjue is still half-asleep, his consciousness lost in the strange, sweet twilight between waking and dreams where he knows and remembers nothing save for his husband's warm weight in his arms—but in spite of the early hour, the sound of his son's piping voice rouses him at once.

When he opens his eyes, he finds Jingyi's round face hovering an inch above his own, aglow with a grin that reminds Nie Mingjue so much of a young Xichen that he nearly forgets to breathe.

"A-Yi?" he yawns, through a mouthful of Lan Huan's sleep-rumpled hair. "What are you doing here, baobao? Did you have a bad dream?"

"I don't have nightmares anymore. I'm not a baby," Jingyi protests. "And A-Die, you were supposed to get up at mao shi to make Ba's birthday breakfast! It's already past chen shi now."

Nie Mingjue reaches up to stroke Jingyi's chubby cheek. "Then I'll get up now, A-Yi. But you ought to go back to bed, because little buns like you should still be asleep at chen shi."

"But Ba's going to wake up before you're done cooking breakfast, so—"

"Your Ba is tired," Nie Mingjue chides, sliding out from under his husband's arm. "He might not want to get up until noon, so we still have time to make breakfast."

"I guess," A-Yi says doubtfully, crawling up to sit on the pillows beside Xichen's head. "But meimei might wake him up early, so I'll stay here and keep watch while you cook."

Mingjue laughs and kisses the top of his son's head before making his way to the kitchen. His heart sings at every step, though this is now hardly worth noting—for that heart has not stopped aching with happiness since the day he and Xichen declared their love for one another, some seven months after their wedding; and its song has only grown sweeter in the passing years, beautified and strengthened by every moment he spends with his husband and children.

He goes to the pantry in the kitchen for rice flour and eggs, and then to the garden for scallions. Nie Mingjue will have to make a simple breakfast today, since Wangji and Wei Wuxian claimed the privilege of arranging a birthday lunch for their entire extended family: and he has little time besides, so he mixes dough for scallion pancakes and prepares three oiled bowls for steamed eggs by the time Jueying begins to fuss in the bedroom.

"Yingying, don't jump!" Nie Mingjue hears Jingyi yelp. "You can't even walk yet."

At that, Nie Mingjue drops his pancake dough and runs out into the receiving room, where he finds baby Jueying crawling toward him on all fours with Xichen's forehead ribbon trailing behind her. Somehow, she had managed to make her way out of the bedroom alone.

"That's my strong Ying-bao," Nie Mingjue says, laughing at the resounding slap of Jueying's tiny fists striking the floorboards. "Should A-Die pick you up now?"

The baby shakes her head and crawls right past him into the kitchen, where she takes refuge under the table with one of Wangji's pet cats.

"Bu," she crows, delighted by the sound of her own voice. No was Jueying's first word, closely followed by Ba, for Xichen and Mingjue both; and since Yingying has rarely left her parents' sight, no is still her favorite thing to say.

Strange though it might be, Mingjue adores his daughter the most in moments like these, where she furrows her small brows and refuses to listen to her well-meaning elders; for it is then that he remembers that he and Xichen brought two tiny people into the world, with precious little minds and spirits of their own. Jingyi's mishaps and misadventures, Jueying's stubbornness, their shared passion for baked sweets and dislike of anything flavored with lemon—all of it came from the love that shaped Mingjue's very life, from the day he first laid eyes on Lan Xichen twenty-six years ago.

If it were any other day, Nie Mingjue would have abandoned his preparations for breakfast and returned to his husband's side, unable to keep away from him any longer; but Jueying has already fixed her beady eyes on the heap of chopped scallions, so Mingjue rushes over to placate her with a biscuit before cooking the eggs and fried pancakes.

"You can't eat these before they're cooked through," he tells her, watching the baby nibbling away at her biscuit in the safety of Xiaolongbao's wicker basket. "They might make you ill, baobao. But after your first birthday, you can eat anything you like."

"You musn't say that, A-Jue," a soft voice laughs from the doorway. "Ying-bao might take you at your word, and then where will we be?"

Nie Mingjue's poor, ever-hungering heart crowds up into his throat.

"Xichen," he breathes, holding out his arms as his husband comes running to meet him. "What are you doing up, sweetheart? I thought you would sleep for another hour."

"Without you in the bed beside me, Mingjue-xiong? I've been awake since chen hour," Lan Xichen smiles, leaning up to kiss him. "I would have liked to sleep a little longer, but I missed you, so here I am."

He kisses the tip of Mingjue's nose, and then:

"And Yingying crawled away with my mo'e," he says, perplexed. "Where is she, my love? Wasn't she with you just now?"

A high-pitched squeal rings out from beneath the table. "There she is," Nie Mingjue says fondly, as Lan Xichen drops to his knees on the floor and gathers Yingying into his arms. "We ought to feed her soon, or she'll try to eat Xiaolongbao's fur again."

With Xichen's help, the last preparations for their meal are completed in quick succession; and before long, all four of them are sitting around the table instead of underneath it. Jueying sits in Lan Xichen's lap, chewing bits of scallion pancake into pulp between mouthfuls of soft steamed egg; and Jingyi takes the little chair between his parents, so that he can lean against Nie Mingjue's shoulder while he eats.

For his part, Nie Mingjue sits with his arm about Lan Xichen's waist, and tries not to weep at the sight of his husband and children eating the breakfast he had made for them.

Surely such happiness is too dear for mortal men to know, he thinks dizzily. Just six years ago, a life with A-Huan and the little ones would have been beyond my wildest dreams, and yet—

Where was I six years ago? Nie Mingjue wonders. He and Xichen were twenty-five and twenty-three when the war broke out, and each of them had celebrated a birthday in the midst of the Sunshot Campaign; but neither occasion brought them any joy, for the beginning of another year of life in such straits could not help but remind them that they might not endure long enough to see the end of it.

Nie Mingjue had nearly died at the Nightless City, and if not for Xichen's skill in healing, he would have been stricken down by a qi deviation in the days after the last battle.

That would have been all right, Nie Mingjue reflects. He knows Lan Xichen's mind and heart as well as he knows his own; for Lan Xichen by far the stronger of the two of them, and he would not have succumbed to grief if Mingjue had left him that day.

"Perhaps not," Lan Xichen says now, reaching backward to hold Nie Mingjue's hand. "What you said when Jingyi was born—that is, what you said you would do, when you thought the worst was coming—I would not turn to such a course, but if I lost you—"

His grasp upon Mingjue's wrist grows tighter. "There would be no joy in this world for me from that day forth, though I would never seek to depart from this life before my time," he says at last. "You must know that, Mingjue-xiong. You must."

Nie Mingjue presses his lips to his husband's forehead.

"I know," he says thickly. "I know, my A-Huan. Happy birthday."