(Part 7 of Stay, the MY time travel fic. Well, Chronologically follows Part 3, But you can read them any which way! Read the others using: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7)
“I can take a hint, you know,” says Qin Su a few days later. “I’m not going to keep chasing you if you’re not interested, you didn’t have to tell my father to interfere.”
“I. I did not do such a thing, Qin-guniang,” says Meng Yao.
She glares at him as if to divine how truthful he was being. An interesting precaution but ultimately futile. She wouldn’t ever be able to see through him if he chose to deceive her. “I suppose I’ll believe you,” she says. “Meng-shidi should know that I had the most uncomfortable discussion with my father today. Since it’s your fault – regardless of what you told anyone – you owe me!”
“This Meng Yao has little to offer, but is yours to command regardless,” he says, sweetly.
“Then call me Su-shjie. If you’re part of my sect, you should act like it.”
“Alright, shijie,” says Meng Yao with a smile, hoping that she’ll accept it.
“Better,” she says approvingly. Then, lighter, “It is hard to stay angry, Meng-shidi’spractically weaponized those dimples.” It startles a genuine laugh out of him. She really was the loveliest person; proof that Jin Guangshan’s seed was not all rotten.
“This Meng Yao will find Su-shijie to continue our conversation later? I’m to help demonstrate muffling talismans for the junior disciples today.”
“Of course, go on! I’ll see you later!” The last is a promise, she obviously intends to see it through.
It hurts a little less when he nods and agrees, before hurrying to the class he was meant to help with. They could be friends, this time.
This time, Meng Yao wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
(This time, he wouldn’t hurt her.)
---
If everyone else is also strangely kind to him for a few weeks after, then Meng Yao doesn’t really notice, nor make the connection, until he’s following Su-shijie and two of her friends on a trip to the market. He’s being used mostly to hold packages; the girls had picked up quite a lot of novels; more than fit into the few qiankun bags they had brought with them.
“Apologies to Meng-shidi, we didn’t think we’d be stopping here,” they’d said, or something along those lines, at four different places already.
Aside from the packages, he was only occasionally consulted over the appearance or worth of some small trinkets – one of the youngest disciples had recently received a sword, and they wished to give her gifts for the occasion – but as Meng Yao’s being treated to snacks as an apology for every hour the trip extends, he barely minds. He is free for the day and it’s almost fun.
Li Feilong finds a green ribbon, almost exactly of a shade to match with official Nie robes. Huaisang would like that, he thinks, just as she says, “Oh, doesn’t this look lovely?” holding it out. She wraps it around her wrist to observe the colour.
“Feilong-shimei’s partiality is showing again,” ribs Qin Su, eyeing the other wares, and picking a midnight-blue one for herself.
“Shijie,” Li Feilong huffs, before releasing the ribbon, saying under her breath, “But he is handsome, I don’t know how he’s only ranked seventh on that blasted list.”
“We’ve all heard it before, Feilong-shijie,” laughs Lin Biao. “Well, I suppose Meng-shidi hasn’t.”
“Meng-shidi!” says, Li Feilong suddenly, whirling towards him. “You used to be Sect Leader Nie’s deputy, were you not? Come, tell me if this colour truly matches his robes,” she says, and Meng Yao steps closer even though he’s sure it is close enough.
“It would be hard to tell them apart,” he says. “Though such a light silk would be more Nie-gongzi’s style than Nie-zongzhu’s. He doesn’t know if it’s because Nie Mingjue’s cultivation was so advanced that he could not tell the weight of his robes, but his silks were heavy.
“That doesn’t matter, thanks, shidi! Auntie, may I have three lengths of this, please?”
“Three lengths, Shimei?”
“Hush, Shijie. I’ll wear it to the hunt on Phoenix mountain, next season! I can edge my cuffs with it, to match.”
The three women pick out other ribbons as well, a pretty pale periwinkle, a few yellows and roses, and some Qin-sect blues. Meng Yao finds his eyes being drawn to the green ribbon again and again. He can’t really believe that he thought that, so what if Huaisang would like it? There was no shortage of green silk in Qinghe, and Meng Yao is no longer... no longer beholden to him.
Some habits were clearly hard to break, that is all, and ‘Huaisang would like that,’ is a decade long habit, that led to him buying multiple pretty things for him. Fans yes, for birthdays, but he’d spoiled him with other things, too.
Meng Yao had always treated him like a child, and somehow missed what was right in front of his face.
It doesn’t stop Meng Yao from buying a length of it before they leave, as well as some colours of thread to go with it. He slips it all into his sleeve, and pretends not to notice the curious looks that he gets form his three companions.
“Shall we return then?” he asks.
“Just a few boxes of tanghulu for mother, and then we can go,” Qin Su decides, and they nod, trailing after her.
On the way back, Qin Su asks, voice mild enough that he’s instantly on guard, “Will Yao-shidi be wearing a green ribbon to the hunt as well?”
Wait, what? When on earth had he given her that impression?
“This shidi will of course be in Sect colours,” he says, while he frantically tries to pick out how this misunderstanding had come about. “The ribbon is for a gift.”
“Oh, of course,” says Qin Su.
“At least agree with me that Nie-zongzhu should be ranked higher, Meng-shidi,” says Li Feilong, from behind them. Meng Yao had assumed they were not listening, and when he quickly glances behind them, Lin Biao is elbowing her, trying to shut her up.
Oh?
Too startled by the byplay and its potential implications, he demurs politely, “I have no opinion on the matter, Feilong-shijie.” Then he smirks, “But I do know why the ranking is in the order that it is!”
Lin Biao gasps, and bounds closer. “You know who makes the rankings?” Conversation neatly diverted, Meng Yao spends the rest of the walk back coyly refusing to reveal his source – not that a drunk Huaisang in the future, confessing to ranking Jin Zixuan above Wei Wuxian just to see Wei Wuxian’s face, and putting his brother seventh because he had to be somewhere is much of a source – and the three ladies graciously allow for the change in topic.
If he returns to his room and skips dinner that night, well, he had been treated to a lot of snacks that afternoon. And it gives him time to try to figure out how exactly he’d convinced Sect Leader Qin that he was a cutsleeve. (He pretends that this is pressing enough that he doesn’t need to think about the green ribbon he’d bought so impulsively, and shoves it beneath his simple sewing kit.)
---
Meng Yao very very cautiously observes his disciple-siblings over the course of the next few weeks, but except for two offhand comments – quickly shushed – no one comments on his supposed inclination for cutting his sleeve. He’s a little bemused but after some thought and delicate probing, he works out the evidence for their “deduction”. In addition to his unexpected rejection of Qin Su, there was the matter of his apparent fear of Jin Guangshan; who was well known for his intolerance for such “deviancy” within his sect.
It's so absurdly sensible a conclusion to draw from the limited evidence available that Meng Yao has no defence to offer. Surely it made more sense than Meng Yao having returned from the future.
And most importantly: no one cared. They were trying to be kind.
If he didn't know better he would think he had developed a second golden core; so warm is the feeling that fills him up and settles in.
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