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pawsnread · 2 years

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The Lotus and His Daoist

Auspicious Moonlight Summary: It started as a simple night stroll, but Dong Fang Yue Chu did not expect his quiet evening to be interrupted by the arrival of a new fairy spirit.

This is a JunZhe verse crossover story between Dong Fang Yue Chu (Gong Jun) and Qing Lian (Zhang Zhehan). Everything is pretty much a figment of my imagination as I know nothing about each individual character or their original story canons. Don’t take anything seriously. 😅

“Such a beautiful, peaceful night.”

A slow, wistful smile crossed Dong Fang Yue Chu’s handsome face as he slowly strolled through the summer night. It was quiet all around, only the sound of cicada song and the occasional rustle of a night creature could be heard. The Daoist had only encountered one other soul on the road, a farmer carrying the first of his modest harvest home, pausing only long enough to give Yue Chu a deep, respectful bow before silently continuing on his way.

Yue Chu had arrived at the bustling town earlier that evening, travel weary and in need of rest. But as night approached, he had found himself unable to sleep and had instead gone for a night stroll in search of the lake the local townspeople had spoken of so highly earlier that day. The night was pitch dark but the full moon shone brightly in a sky studded with stars. Having left most of his belongings back at the inn, Yue Chu wore only simple robes of white and jade green against the summer heat. As he walked, long, dark wisps of hair stirred about his face with every flick of his wrist and wave of the white fan he held. The road he walked was simple and narrow but well worn by countless feet. He seemed in no hurry, his steps slow and steady.

The wistful smile on his face slowly faded as Yue Chu made his way around a bend and began to approach the often spoken of lake just as thick clouds dimmed the moonlight and deepened the darkness. His footsteps faltered as he clicked his tongue in disappointment, the white fan in his hand stilling.

“Well, it is certainly as vast as they claim,” Yue Chu remarked quietly. “But perhaps a bit underwhelming.”

It was indeed a vast lake, the opposite shoreline too far for even Yue Chu’s keen eyes to see. The dark, clear waters glimmered in the night, reflecting the bright full moon and glittering stars in its mirror-like stillness. But it was, in all other respects, unremarkable, a simple but large body of water surrounded by the dark silhouette of rolling hills.

Not one to be easily deterred, the Daoist decided to make the most of his little night jaunt. The shore was muddy but level, the ground giving way slightly beneath his feet as Yue Chu strolled along the perimeter. A warm breeze wafted, carrying the scents both familiar and foreign as fireflies blinked in the darkness.

A break in the clouds allowed the moonlight to stream through once again. His boots made a suddenly scuffing sound as Yue Chu stopped abruptly, eyes widening at the sight that appeared before him.

“I must take back my earlier assessment,” Yue Chu murmured, a note of wonder in his hushed voice. “This is certainly a sight to behold.”

What Yue Chu had mistaken for small rock formations in the lake was revealed by the moonlight to be hundreds of lotus blooms covering the surface of the lake and stretching as far as he could see were. The flowers ranged in size and color, from a bud of the brightest pink that could sit in the whole of Yue Chu’s palm to one of a pale blush smaller than his littlest finger. Many of the blooms had closed for the night, some receding into the lake waters for their rest. Those that remained above the water line glimmered in the silvery moonlight, undulating gently in the breeze.

Yue Chu walked slowly along the shore, admiring the sight before him. Every now and then, he would stop and lean in closer to inspect a lotus bloom. His eyes followed every detail of the flower as he became mesmerized by the delicate details from the veins in the petals to the deep green colors of the sepals and leaves.

Once again, the Daoist’s footsteps faltered as he caught sight of something quite unusual.

“Oh…aren’t you a beauty. Quite different, aren’t you?”

His robes rustled as Yue Chu knelt down until he was eye level with the pure white lotus bud. The white petals seemed to glow in the darkness; Yue Chu even fancied he could detect a faint humming coming from the flower. Amongst a sea of pink, it stood out sharply atop a vibrant green stalk. It’s color wasn’t the only think unusual about the bloom. Yue Chu could feel a strong sense of power coming from that little white bud; it was sure to be something special one day.

As if in a trance, the Daoist stretched out a hand, long slim fingers reaching for the lotus. It seemed to be calling to him, inviting him. Just when Yue Chu’s fingertip was about to brush a petal, the flower bud quivered. He quickly withdrew his hand, scrambling to his feet as the flower’s glow began to intensify, pulsing gently from within the lotus.

One-by-one, the petals began to unfurl. Yue Chu watched transfixed as the lotus bloomed while being bathed in moonlight. When the petals had fully opened, where a yellow carpal should have been glimmered what looked to be an iridescent pearl. Yue Chu felt a sense of protectiveness overcome him as he gazed upon that pearl. He resisted the urge to reach forward and pluck the peearl from where it was cradled within the lotus petals. He wanted to hold it in his palm, protect it from the world and hide it from sight. Before Yue Chu had a change to act, that pearl pulsed once, twice, and began to rise into the air.

The very stars seemed to dim as the light of the pearl became blinding. The humming from earlier grew louder, vibrating in Yue Che’s ears. As he shielded his eyes against the glare, he thought he caught a glimpse of a human form within the light.

A tiny ‘pop’ was heard, and then the light exploded, casting back the shadows.

When his vision finally cleared, Yue Chu’s breath caught at the sight before him.

White lotus petals danced in the air, twisting and twirling around a newborn fairy spirit. He was tall and lean, a gracefulness evident in even the slightest movement of his limbs. Dark hair cascaded down his back, a stark contrast to the green and white garments he wore. His face was smooth and slightly pale, with full lips and arched cheekbones. Dark lashes fluttered as he opened his eyes, the large, dark orbs containing small flecks of green in their depths.

The fairy blinked curiously as he gazed about. His eyes eventually settled upon Yue Chu, a look of awe on the Daoist’s face as he stood transfixed on the shoreline. A moment of stillness passed between them, the fairy and the Daoist gazed deep into the other’s eyes.

Slowly, a smile curled Yue Chu’s lips.

“This is becoming quite the auspicious night,” Yue Chu half said to himself. Slowly, he raised his hand, stretching it out towards the still floating fairy. “My name is Dong Fang Yue Chu.” It was dangerous giving his name away so freely, especially to a spirit so new to the world and unaccustomed to even their own power. One miscalculation and he might have just condemned himself to eternal hell. But Yue Chu had little fear; his intuition told him this fairy spirit would not harm him.

The lotus fairy gazed at him, head tilted ever so slightly in consideration.

“Daozhang?” he asked, his voice soft and pleasant to hear.

“If you like,” Yue Chu replied. “Do you have a name?”

The fairy turned his head up towards the moon, his expression becoming intent as if he were listening carefully to something only he could hear.

“Qing Lian,” he said after a moment.

Yue Chu felt something stir in his chest at the name, at the voice, at the eyes that continued to stare so deeply into his. His smile widened as he stretched out his arm further, palm open and inviting.

“A-Lian, would you like to come with me?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. There is so much to see. Would you like to come and see it - with me?”

He remained still, waiting on that shoreline, a smile upon his face and hand stretched out invitingly towards the fairy. Yue Chu waited and weathered the fairy’s gaze and silence.

Qing Lian’s fingers were cool as he curled his hand around Yue Chu’s. A soft smile formed on his face as he floated down and stood before the Daoist; from this vantage point, he had to raise his chin just the slightest bit to maintain eye contact with Yue Chu. A moment of silence passed between them, a feeling of completeness forming in Yue Chu’s very soul as he stood there with the newborn fairy before him.

“Yes,” was all Qing Lian said as a breeze blew, carrying the scent of lotuses in the night air.

#junzhe verse #crossover #chulian #first love #writing #this is totally a work in progress #and I have no idea what I am doing

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trensu · 9 months

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Steve had always wanted to be a skilled fighter. The schools that churned out the best fighters all happened to be schools for holy warriors. It was possible that Steve maybe sort of lied a little (with the help of his friends Robin and Dustin) to get into this school by claiming he was full to the brim of religious fervor but hadn’t decided who to pledge his sword to yet. It shouldn’t have worked, if he were honest with himself, but by some stroke of luck it did, and he finished his training as one of the top combatants.

The issue now was that he had to pick a god whose crest to carry. There were all sorts of gods. Gods of water, gods of air, gods of agriculture, war gods, cat gods, plant gods...the list was endless. And while Steve was one of the best fighters around, he was most definitely not one of the best researchers. Thankfully Dustin and Robin were very clever and knew where to find details about the many gods in existence.

“So what kind of god do you want to follow? Maybe we can start there,” Robin asked.

“Uh…a good one?”

“You’re no help at all, you know that?” Dustin grumbled.

They suggested a local god known as Carver who stood for righteousness, but Steve turned that down. It didn't feel like a good fit. They suggested a love god by the name of Chrissy, who valued love of all kinds, romantic, platonic, familial...Steve had been tempted, very tempted, because Steve had always carried an excess of love in his heart. Robin had vetoed that one stating that Steve was already too reckless with his love and she wouldn't stand by and watch him break his own heart over and over again.

Dustin suggested a god of knowledge, Clarke, who blessed and guided those with curiosity, imagination, and a knack for invention. Steve shot that one down immediately. He was never one to be overly imaginative or curious; he preferred to deal with concrete things. Out of their quickly dwindling list, Robin reluctantly suggested Hargrove, a war god favored by a nearby kingdom, but if Carver was ill-fitting, then Hargrove was outright repellent to Steve.

"C'mon, Steve, you gotta pick someone!" Dustin huffed in frustration.

Robin thunked her head against the table in the library where they were looking up deities. She was obviously at her wit's end too. Steve, however, just dug his heels in with a particularly stubborn scowl.

"I can't just pick anyone!" Steve said. "If I'm going to pledge my sword to someone, it has to be someone...someone good. Someone that, I don't know, someone I can believe in, even when--no especially when things go wrong. That’s the whole point!"

"Yeah, I get that," Robin sighed, a mix of fond and annoyed, "but this is the eighth book we've gone through and the only one left here is called the King of Darkness which is hardly going to--huh."

Robin paused mid-rant to look at the page more closely. Steve and Dustin both huddled around her to peek into the book as well. Dustin also made a sound of curiosity.

"That's weird," Dustin said.

"Right?" Robin asked enthusiastically.

"What? What's weird?" Steve didn't get what caught their attention.

"This god only has a couple of sentences," Dustin explained, "And they don't really make sense. Something about dark creatures and the undeserving? The grammar and structure is all weird though."

"It looks like a half-assed translation," Robin added with a nod. "We should find the original text."

"Yeah! And if we can make a better translation, we could get it added to the next edition and they'd have to put our names on the book," Dustin said excitedly. Robin's eyes lit up at the thought and they both rushed off to the stacks to track down any original sources.

"Guys! Guys, what about my..."

The librarian hushed Steve, irritated. Steve groaned in defeat.

"...godly choices. Yeah, fine," Steve slumped back on his seat. "I need to find non-nerd friends."

Two days later, Robin and Dustin finished translating a slim, dusty book. They were nearly vibrating in their seats as Steve reviewed their notes on what they found. Dustin gripped his arm and gave him a shake.

"So? What do you think?" he asked excitedly.

Robin slung her arm across Steve's shoulders. With more tenderness than Steve expected, she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it, he doesn't really fit with your whole style, but it could work."

"Yeah," Steve said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, this feels right."

It took longer than Steve would've liked, but eventually he managed to track down a small, crumbling shrine. It was an alcove carved near the entrance--no more than a crack in the stone really--of a cave at the edge of a lush forest. He almost missed it, it was so drowned in overgrown crawling vines and weeds. It bore a modest statue, no bigger than Steve, standing atop an equally modest plinth. There was a spot that obviously held a plaque once, but it must’ve been dug out by thieves at some point.

The sight of it made something in Steve's chest twinge; a strange pang of melancholy at seeing a god so forgotten and abandoned. It surprised him as he had never been particularly religious, but there was just something about this one that drew him in.

It was the middle of the day, so Steve quickly made camp and took advantage of the light to begin clearing the shrine. He started where the plaque had been, scrubbing off the dirt and moss that had filled the indentation. He knew a good smith; he could commission a new plaque to be made. After that, he weeded the immediate area around the plinth where worshipers would typically lay their offerings and pray.

By the time he finished that, it was late afternoon and he decided that was good enough for today. He had to eat and get a few hours of sleep so he could be alert once night fell. When he curled up on his bedroll, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. He was going to offer himself to his god tonight, and with any luck, his god would accept him.

He woke to a multitude of high pitched squeaks and the sound of many, many flapping wings. The sun had just fully set, and the stars that could be seen through the canopy burned brightly. Steve took his time to fasten on his armor and scabbard properly, and fixed his hair so not a strand was out of place. He took a few deep breaths to calm an unexpected bout of nerves before going to the shrine and kneeling.

His god had no official prayers. Or rather, the prayers for his god were forgotten. Robin and Dustin did their best to find anything prayer-like but it had been in vain. They suspected that most of the god's holy items and lore were purposely lost. Lacking that, Steve decided it was best that he introduce himself.

"Um, hi," he started and immediately winced. "Sorry. I'm not used to...this. I couldn't find any of your…holy words? Prayers? The right ways to speak to you, I guess.

"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm a fighter. I finished my training a few weeks back. I was the top of my cohort when it came to combat. I'm good with my sword and I know how to take a hit. I can turn just about anything into a weapon if it's needed."

Here Steve paused for a moment, straining to hear but there was nothing other than the typical sounds of a night out in the woods. Steve took a breath and plowed forward.

"I want to be more than a fighter, though. I don't want to just wave a sword around for nothing. I want it to...to matter. So I spent a lot of time trying to decide who to wield my sword for. It took me a while, but I found you. I want to be your shield and sword, if you'll have me."

Steve stopped again to listen. Nothing. Robin warned him this might happen. Gods didn't always accept warriors who offered themselves to them, and forgotten gods weren't always reachable. It was fine, though; he’d try again tomorrow night. Steve turned in just before dawn, eager for night again.

Steve worked on clearing the vines tangled around the statue's legs and feet. He yanked out the thick, scraggly vines, and carefully picked apart the prickling thorny ones. There was a particular gnarl of vines that didn't seem like they had a stranglehold on his god's statue. They were healthy and strong, and the way they curled and grew looked more like a caress than an invasion. He decided to leave those on, though he gently rearranged them while removing the more invasive vines so they looked more decorative.

When night arrived with the sound of squeaks and wings, Steve went to kneel at the shrine. He introduced himself again, gave the same spiel as the night before. Still he heard nothing. He scratched the back of his neck in mild insecurity.

“I guess I should tell you I didn’t find you on my own. My friends Robin and Dustin helped me. They’re way smarter than me, you know? Total nerds. I can swing a sword like nothing, but books and research? Yeah, that never works out for me, so they helped me look up all sorts of gods.

“There’s a lot of them. Way more than I thought. Dustin and Robin both recommended me ones or vetoed others. They were getting frustrated with me because I kept rejecting the ones they gave me.

“Then Robin found you. Kind of by accident, to be honest. But she did her research thing and I knew that I wanted to carry your symbol. It took me forever to find this shrine. Robin said this was probably the only shrine you had left, so I had to find it.

“Dustin kept saying it was on the other side of the forest, but obviously he was wrong. Not that he’ll ever admit it, the little shit, but whatever. I’m sorry your shrine was abandoned like this, but I promise I’ll fix it up. I’m good with my hands, I can do it.”

There was no response to his admittedly disorganized ramble. It was fine, he told himself. He needed to be patient. He’d come back the next night.

–

Around the statue’s waist there was another tangled mess of vines, except these vines had died and rotted to dark sludge. There was fungus growing on it, and it reeked. It was gross. Steve scrubbed at it for hours because the rot had stained the stone. He was able to get rid of the rot and most of the stains before going to catch a few hours of sleep in the afternoon.

Night fell and Steve was kneeling for the third time. He repeated most of what he said the previous two nights. There was still no response. He thought maybe he was pushing too hard. He’d never been the super talkative type anyway. He could share the quiet night with his god, if that was what his god wanted.

A few hours passed when he was startled out of his near meditative state by the sound of snapping twigs. He leapt to his feet, hand on his scabbard. Someone–a man by the look of it–stumbled out of the woods. He was pale and dark haired, dressed in ragged clothes that were probably awful even when they were new. He looked like a vagabond.

Steve stepped in front of the shrine, protectively. The stranger grinned at him and Steve could already tell he was not going to enjoy the conversation that was about to happen.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Steve asked firmly, cutting the man off before he could speak. The smile only grew wider.

“I could ask you the same thing, sir,” the man said, adopting the annoyed huff of a wealthy lord. Steve scowled.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second!”

“You didn’t ask me anything,” Steve responded, somewhat smug. The man paused and then snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Steve repeated shortly. The teasing grin was back, and Steve felt his scowl deepen.

“Nothing and no one, m’lord,” the man bows mockingly.

“I’m not a lord.”

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re certainly as demanding as any lord I’ve ever met.”

“Oh fuck you,” Steve snapped. “I’m a holy warrior.”

The man laughed at him outright.

“Well that doesn’t sound very holy warrior-ish. Are your type allowed to swear?”

Steve grinded his teeth and decided it was not worth it to continue this conversation for much longer.

“Look, if you’re here to steal, I’ve got nothing on me.”

“That’s exactly what someone with something to steal would say.”

“Well, I don’t! I’m on a pilgrimage and I don’t want to spill blood on holy ground. So.” Steve wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. “Leave. Please.”

“Holy ground? Here?” the man barks out a laugh. “Don’t you know what this place is?”

“Yes,” Steve says shortly, placing himself more firmly between the shrine and the man. “Please leave. There shouldn’t be violence done here.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that. This place used to belong to the King of Darkness. It’s said he was so evil that nothing grew here until he was run out and defeated by the god of righteousness. You know the one. Really plays up the holier than thou thing by making his hair all gold and glowy? Gotta say, you could give him a run for his money though.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No really! Your hair is great. Way better than Carver, even with the glowy thing.”

“Not that!” Steve said in frustration. This guy really liked the sound of his own voice and Steve was starting to get a headache. It was near dawn and all he wanted was to spend the last hour or so in the quiet night with his god.

“So you agree your hair is better than a god’s?” The man tsks at him. “That’s pretty blasphemous. Are you sure you’re a holy warrior?”

“No! I mean, yes. Wait,” Steve growls at his own bumbling. “No, I’m not better than any god. But I am a holy warrior. Kind of.”

“Kind of.”

“Look, I’m working on it so I need you to leave. You’ve insulted him enough already.”

“Your god is the King of Dark–”

“Call him that again, and I will draw my sword,” Steve said, voice steely. “He’s the Lord of Night, and I won’t let you insult him at his own shrine.”

The man goes quiet for the first time since he showed up. He looked almost surprised, his mocking grin gone. His eyes flicked over to the dilapidated statue and then back at Steve.

“Lord of Night doesn’t sound much different than what I called him,” the man said lightly.

“Well, it is,” Steve told him. “Now, will you please leave?”

The man stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, alright.” And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived.

The tension that had built up in Steve’s shoulders drained away. He went back to kneel in front of the shrine again when he noticed the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. He cursed under his breath then was hit with a wave of embarrassment at cursing in front of the shrine and the whole situation that had transpired.

“I’m sorry about that,” Steve said, abashed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

–

It happened again.

now with an additional snippet here and here

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you'd like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

#trensu tells stories #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #eddie munson #i don't even know what to call this #it's an idea i'm playing with but i don't know how well it works #if you're curious about the setting so am i!#if you figure it out do me a favor and tell me what it is #i have more written but it's not done #i'm hoping to post it as a oneshot on ao3 when i finish it #IF i finish it #we'll see i guess #ETA #came up with a title/tag for this #stasis in darkness

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