#and is apologizing in detail for what he did to the nie sect cultivators

[dailyayao]

[remma3760]

Consequences

Chapter 20

Summary:

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian get used to being parents, while the other sects begin to arrive for the guest lectures.

So, the Lan have invented baby formula. Go Lans! This chapter is again quite short as I just wanted to set up the lecture arc.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji accepted the small bottles with a nod of thanks. 

"Lan Zhan, is that breakfast?"

"It is A-Yuan's breakfast."

"Oh, good, he was beginning to fuss."

Wei Wuxian accepted one of the bottles and offered it to the baby cradled in his arms. Lan Yuan made a gurgle of delight before latching on and sucking greedily. 

"Oh you like that, don't you Boabao? Is that tasty? Lan Zhan, what even is this we're feeding our son? I mean, every day, they bring us bottles and we give them to him, but where does it come from?"

"The healers developed this formula when Xingzhang was born. It holds all the nutrients necessary for an infant to thrive."

"Aww, they made it for you and Tangge, and now our son gets the benefit. That's so sweet."

"Mn."

There was a knock on the door as Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen entered, the latter carrying a tray.

Lan Qiren immediately went to Wei Wuxian to gaze down at his grandson. "I thought we might eat breakfast together. How is my grandson."

"Happy as always at seeing his Yeye. Do you want to hold him A-Die?"

Lan Qiren did. he accepted the child gratefully, rocking him gently. "We will need to send an announcement of his birth. It will be a surprise to many that you have chosen to adopt so soon after your marriage."

"A-Die, we can't say where he came from. If Wen Ruohan found out he might try to take him, or hurt him."

"No-one will be taking our little Yuan, Wuxian. We will simply say that he was recently orphaned."

"Tradition." Lan Wangji declared.

"Lan Zhan?"

"Baoshen Sanren adopted Wei Ying's mother. Shufu adopted Wei Ying. We have adopted Lan Yuan. A family tradition."

Lan Qiren huffed. "Indeed. That might even be the best explanation. Keep it brief. No need to give details."

"Mn."

"Shufu, will we need to explain about Wuxian's core injury?"

"No, Xichen. I have consulted with Baoshen Sanren, and we both feel that it would be unwise. The poison was distinctive, and should word reach Wen Ruohan, he might realise how Wuxian was injured. He would not be happy if he suspected that Wangji and Wuxian had been night hunting in Qishan."

"Do I have to keep it a secret from our friends A-Die? They'll be arriving for the lectures soon and they will know something has happened."

"That won't be necessary. You can confide in those you trust, but in general, it might be better to let those coming believe that you are not participating in the lectures yourself as you are needed to care for A-Yuan."

"Okay, I can do that. It's mostly true, anyway. One of us would have had to stay with him even if I hadn't have been hurt. Isn't that right Boabao? You need all the attention, don't you? Or should we put you in the bunny field and let them take care of you? "Wei Wuxian tickled Lan Yuan's feet as he squirmed and giggled happily."

***

"Wen Ruohan is becoming a nuisance. Something must be done." Baoshen Sanren was frowning. She hated the idea of being sucked back into cultivation politics, but now her family was involved.

"I agree." Lan Qiren looked to the room's other occupants as both Lan Xichen and Lan Yi nodded.

"Shufu, I agree that his treatment of his people is alarming, but he is yet to attack any other sect. Do we have the right to interfere in the internal affairs of the Wen?"

"Xichen, have you forgotten that he tried to harm, even kill, Nie Jiahao? Were it not for your brother, he might have succeeded."

Baoshen Sanren was confused. "Wait, why don't I know anything about this?"

"Apologies. It was many years ago and is not widely known. Wen Ruohan summoned Nie Jiahao to Nightless City, and when he found out I was visiting the Unclean Realm with my boys, he demanded that Wangji and Wuxian be brought to him too so that he might meet them. I'm sure I told you of that, did I not?"

"You told me that Wen Ruohan had taken an interest in my grandson. I do not recall any mention of a murder attempt."

"Ah, well. It was all very strange. Wen Ruohan had some bee in his bonnet about Nie Jiahao's saber being bigger than his saber, so he wanted to examine it."

Boashen Sanren and Lan Yi roared with laughter, as Lan Qiren just looked at them, perplexed. "Why are you laughing? Nie Jiahao and Nie Min laughed too when we discussed comparing sabres, but why? What's funny? Xichen, have I missed something?"

Lan Xichen was as bemused as his uncle. "I don't believe so, Shufu."

Baoshen Sanren howled, slapping her thigh. "Oh Qiren, I do like you. Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. Please, continue."

Shaking his head, Lan Qiren did. "So, Wen Ruohan slapped Nie Jiahao's saber, oh what now? How is that so funny?"

Baoshen Sanren was hiccuping and wiping her eyes. "I really don't think I can explain, Qiren. Just know that it is." Baoshen Sanren really was being ridiculous, and Lan Yi wasn't much better. Lan Qiren would ignore them.

"As I said, Wen Ruohan slapped Nie Jiahao's saber - do not laugh Baoshen Sanren - and when he did so, Wangji heard her cry out in pain."

Lan Yi gasped. "Wangji heard that? I knew his ear was greatly enhanced, but that is remarkable, especially as he was still a child. I take it the saber had been damaged?"

"It had. Nie Jiahao called in his weapons master as soon as we returned to the Unclean Realm. It was confirmed that there was damage that could have proved fatal had Nie Jiahao used his saber during a night hunt."

"But why was this kept quiet? Surely the other sects should have been told?"

"Which other sects, Sanren? The Jin? The Jiang? Who could we trust with that information? Also, should Wen Ruohan have discovered that he failed due to Wangji's interference, it could have put Wangji at risk."

Baoshen Sanren looked grave. "And that is the problem we still have. Who can we trust, besides the Nie? Who can we count on if we decide to go against Wen Ruohan?"

She was right, of course. Lan Qiren knew that. He also knew that something would have to be done. It was a dilemma.

*** 

"Ah, Lan Zhan, your Wei Ying and your A-Yuan are going to miss you so much, aren't we, Baobao?" Lan Yuan gurgled his agreement.

"Mn. I will miss Wei Ying and A-Yuan also."

"Lan Zhan, I hate not having my core."

"Mn."

"Still, if it had to happen, this is the best time for it. It's not like we could have gone anywhere or done anything for the next few months, anyway. Not with the guest lectures starting and looking after A-Yuan."

"Mn."

"And it's not like I'll be alone. You'll be here every night, and Nie Huaisang and Jin Zixuan and Tangge and A-Die will come and see me almost every day. Laolao is here too, and Nainai."

"Mn. Wei Ying will not be lonely."

"I won't be, I know. Still, I wish you could stay here with us."

"One of us must be present."

"I know. You'll come and eat lunch here?"

"I will."

"And you'll invite our friends to come for tea?"

"I will."

"Ah, I'm going to be so bored without my Lan Zhan to keep me company."

"Wei Ying will not be bored. Wei Ying will have fun discussing his compass of evil with Laolao."

"Yes! She said she'd be here after breakfast. I'm so glad she decided to stay with us for awhile. And now Nainai is here too. I know you've enjoyed working on your music with her."

"Mn, she is proficient."

"And I know how much Tangge appreciates her help. Now that the Elders have agreed that he should officially take over as sect leader on his twenty-first birthday, her advice will be invaluable."

"Mn. She has promised to spend time with him to talk about her own experiences as sect leader. Xiongzhang is most grateful."

Wei Wuxian looked pensive. "Lan Zhan, I wanted to ask Jiang Yanli to come for tea with our other friends, but what should we do about Jiang Cheng? We can't just not ask him when all the other sect heirs and his sister will be invited. It would be an insult."

"If Wei Ying does not wish to meet with Jiang Cheng, then he need not."

"No, I just don't know. I remember we were friends when I was still at Lotus Pier, but he barely spoke at the wedding, so I just don't know how he will act."

"Wei Ying will not be alone in his presence. I will not allow him to insult Wei Ying."

"I know. And Jin Zixuan and Nie Huaisang will be there along with you and Jiang Yanli. It should be fine."

"Shufu has asked that we also include Qin Su."

"Has he now. So will Tangge be attending?"

"He may when he is available."

"Hm. Well, I have no problem with Qin Su. She seems like a sweet girl. I'm sure she'll fit right in."

"Mn. Wei Ying, I must go. Shufu has asked that I be available to greet guests and assist should any problems arise."

"Okay. A-Yuan, say bye bye to A-Die." Wei Wuxian waved Lan Yuan's little arm at Lan Wangji. "See you at lunch. Go be friendly."

"Mn."

***

[robininthelabyrinth]

We’ve heard Jiang Fengmian as WWX’s bio father, now it’s time for Lan Qiren as secretly his father. (Please no Wangxian for this one!)

ao3

“You want me to what,” Lan Qiren said.

“Be the father of my child,” Cangse Sanren said. Simply and straightforwardly, as if that were just a thing people said.

Casually.

To their friends.

To their – as far as he knew – platonic friends!

“You’re married,” he stressed.

“Yes, Qiren-xiong, I’m aware,” Cangse Sanren said, her eyes bright with mirth. “I was even there through some of the festivities. Though not all, of course, since the bride gets sent away far too early at these things, and of course then there was all the liquor –”

“Cangse Sanren,” Lan Qiren said through gritted teeth, wishing not for the first time that his friend had an actual name rather than merely a title – something he could use or not use to emphasize his feelings on the subject.

She laughed at him, because of course she did.

“Let me explain,” she said, probably because she sensed that he was considering stabbing her if she didn't. “Lao Wei and I –”

“Aren’t you older than he is?” Lan Qiren asked, dubious. “Possibly by several centuries?”

“Humans call their husbands that,” Cangse Sanren said, waving her hands at him. “Don’t bother me with details.”

“…you’re human, right?”

“Of course! This is the fourth time you’ve asked, and the answer hasn’t changed. Why would you ever think otherwise?”

“The way that you continuously refer to – no, I’m not letting you distract me this time. Explain yourself!”

Cangse Sanren giggled into her sleeve. “We want children,” she said. “But he can’t, you see. Wrong parts. So we need someone else to be the sire, and I want it to be you.”

“Why?”

More giggling. “Because I like you. And why not?”

“And Wei Changze agreed to this?” Lan Qiren asked, slightly appalled. He knew Cangse Sanren well enough to assume that the answer had to be yes, and yet still...

“Yes, he did, but you’re welcome to talk with him directly. In fact, I encourage it.”

“Perhaps I will,” Lan Qiren said.

Wei Changze was a pleasant person, even if he and Lan Qiren weren’t direct friends – Lan Qiren was a bit too inflexible and serious, Wei Changze a little too free-spirited and light-hearted, so they’d never entirely bonded, but they were both very fond of Cangse Sanren in all her strangeness, each in their own way, and that was enough of a basis for a decent relationship.

“I’d be honored if you would agree,” Wei Changze said when Lan Qiren asked. “You’re my wife’s favorite person besides me – why not you?”

Lan Qiren could think of many, many reasons why not.

“I don’t want to impact your relationship with her,” he said cautiously, and Wei Changze blinked at him as if to say how would it do that? “If jealousy were to arise…”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Wei Changze said.

“…you understand that if I agree to your proposal, I would be sleeping with your wife.”

“Oh yes,” Wei Changze said. “Several times, I hope. We've got to make sure it takes, after all. On that note, can I watch?”

Lan Qiren was a man aware of his dignity. It was beneath his dignity to flail around like a teenager.

He flailed regardless.

“You don’t have to let me if you don’t want to,” Wei Changze said, but he was pouting. “I guess. I just think it’d be hot, that’s all.”

Lan Qiren put his head in his hands.

“You’re bright red,” Wei Changze observed. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“I don’t even like Cangse Sanren that way,” Lan Qiren said, voice muffled by his palms. “I mean, I like her, but I don’t – like her. Romantically. At all.”

“And I’m very happy about that,” Wei Changze said soothingly. “As is she, being as she married me and not you. You don’t need to have romantic or even sexual feelings about her, you just need to platonically bang her a few times.”

“…I will do it provided you never refer to it that way ever again.”

“Deal,” Wei Changze said, and grinned, waving his wife in through the door; she bounded in like a lion on the hunt, smelling blood.

“Additionally, we should be clear about what we expect regarding the child,” Lan Qiren said, even though he was already being carted along to the bed by Cangse Sanren’s excessive momentum and Wei Changze’s entirely unnecessary assistance in removing his clothing. “Obviously any child will be yours in every respect, legally and emotionally and otherwise, both of you, but if possible I would still like to see him –”

“Of course,” Cangse Sanren said agreeably, removing his pants. “Whenever you like.”

-

“Something is wrong,” Lan Qiren said firmly.

Yu Ziyuan scowled at him, even as her husband frowned thoughtfully. “Cangse Sanren is a rogue cultivator,” she said acidly. “It is not unusual for rogue cultivators to go a few months without contacting their friends in the cultivation world.”

“We have an agreement that she would come by once every season or else send word. She has not missed a single instance, and yet now she does.”

“Why would she agree to meet so regularly with you? We barely see her once a year, if that,” Yu Ziyuan asked, and Lan Qiren knew her issues with Cangse Sanren were actually issues with Jiang Fengmian, but it still irritated him to be used as a pawn in their troubled marriage.

“If you do not intend to help me search, then just say so,” he said heavily. “I fear that something has happened to her, and I intend to find her; I would like your help, but will proceed without it if need be. If all is well and she just decided not to come, and also not to send word or any other sign, then I will apologize for the inconvenience and repay you any monies expended. But if not…”

“I will help,” Jiang Fengmian said, and Yu Ziyuan looked on the verge of exploding.

“I’ll leave you to sort that out,” Lan Qiren said, shaking out his sleeves and leaving at once. As per their agreement, Cangse Sanren brought Wei Ying to the Cloud Recesses once every season or else sent word explaining her absence – the lack of any word this time was deeply troubling. After all, in the end, despite Cangse Sanren’s relatively humble goals and low-key life, there was always that doom said to be associated with those who left the immortal mountain…

He worried.

He’d planned to tell Cangse Sanren about He Kexin’s death during her present visit, had hoped that Wei Ying’s presence might help lift Lan Zhan’s mood after the loss of his mother and give him some comfort – Wei Ying was Lan Zhan’s favorite person in all the world, bar none, and he had waited so anxiously, if wordlessly, for him to arrive during the month that they expected Cangse Sanren and her family to come. And yet the days ticked by and he didn’t arrive at all…

Lan Qiren worried.

Still, with Jiang Fengmian’s help, and of course the Nie sect’s – Lao Nie hadn’t hesitated to agree, even though unlike Jiang Fengmian he did not have a personal connection to either Cangse Sanren or Wei Changze and was acting wholly on account of his friendship with Lan Qiren – they would be able to cover a great deal of the cultivation world, especially given that Cangse Sanren disliked both Lanling Jin and Qishan Wen and was unlikely to venture into either of their territories.

They would find her.

He hoped that they would find her.

-

“Well, that was a meeting full of revelations,” Lao Nie said, eyes curved into crescents of mirth. “The only thing that would have made it better is if you’d ended your sentence with ‘so fuck off’. You know, so that it would’ve been ‘Because he’s my biological son, so fuck off’.”

“It isn’t anyone else’s business,” Lan Qiren said querulously. “I don’t consider him my son – he’s Wei Changze’s son! His surname is Wei for a reason! The exact mechanics of his conception are private-”

“Are they? Too bad, I’d have liked to hear about it.”

“Lao Nie!”

“What? It’d be hot.”

“Wei Changze said the same thing,” Lan Qiren grumbled. “What is wrong with all you people? Anyway, that was not my point; we can discuss your sexual titillation later. My point is that Wei Ying should not have a shadow cast over his parentage – I should not have had to reveal that fact at any point.”

“You had no choice,” Lao Nie said, not without sympathy. “Given that Wei Changze was a former disciple of the Lotus Pier, Jiang Fengmian had the better claim to custody absent that fact. Never mind that you were Cangse Sanren’s close friend, or that they came to visit you more often; never mind that Yu Ziyuan is to this day only barely able to restrain her jealousy and hatred of the pair of them and would be made miserable by the boy’s presence on the Lotus Pier, and possibly make his life miserable in return; never mind that Jiang Fengmian already grossly favors the boy over his own children, a surefire recipe for disaster…you had to say what you said, Qiren. Wei Ying will be better off at the Cloud Recesses.”

“He’ll be a disaster at the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Qiren said, rubbing his temples. “He’s as free-spirited as his parents were. That’s the only hesitation I have…if it weren’t for all the other things you mentioned, Yu Ziyuan’s jealousy and the favoritism and all that, I would think he’d be better off among the Jiang.”

“He will make a very unique Lan,” Lao Nie acknowledged. “But he’ll be an adopted cousin to your nephews, and they’ll grow up as brothers. A-Zhan will be delighted.”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, acknowledging the point. At least there was that. “Yes, he will.”

“Maybe I’ll have a talk with Jiang Fengmian,” Lao Nie said, more to himself than Lan Qiren. “That poor Jiang boy, no one deserves to grow up with a real-life person being ‘another person’s child’. Perhaps I’ll see about inviting the boy over to the Unclean Realm more often. A-Sang could use a playmate…”

-

“You’re weird for a Lan,” Jiang Cheng said.

“That’s because I’m not a Lan,” Wei Wuxian laughed. “I’m a Wei! Lan Zhan’s a Lan, Xichen-da-ge is a Lan, but I’m not. Don’t let the white robes mislead you.”

Jiang Cheng coughed. “That’s not – what I meant.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at him.

“Well,” Jiang Cheng said, abruptly looking extremely awkward. “Your father’s a Lan, isn’t he? Teacher Lan.”

“Oh, that! No, he’s not. Easy mistake to make,” Wei Wuxian assured him. “Lots of people think that, what with me knowing the Lan sect rules backwards and forwards and upside down – mostly so that I can haggle my punishments down when I break them, that's how I learn them best – but actually I’m Wei Changze’s son.”

Jiang Cheng’s face was red. “But…my dad said…”

“He helped,” Wei Wuxian conceded, tapping his nose meaningfully. “That’s why I’m so pretty! But Wei Changze was the one that wanted me, Wei Changze’s the one who gave me his surname; it’s his grave I sweep during Qingming. If you like, you can think of me as having been adopted into the Wei family; that’s common enough, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” Jiang Cheng said, blinking. And then he said, sounding doubtful, “Do you really know all those rules?”

“All of them! You have no idea how much trouble you can make with a good set of rules.” Wei Wuxian grinned. “Want to see?”

“I – can we?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, stepping into the room. He looked tired, as always, but Wei Wuxian thought that there was never a time when he didn’t, certainly ever since he became sect leader too early. Lan Xichen was always worrying about him, and Lan Qiren, too, and since they were worried, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji had figured they might as well get in on the action. “Not in the Unclean Realm you can’t. Save it for the Lotus Pier, since the Cloud Recesses are too wise to you now.”

“No one is truly wise to my wicked ways,” Wei Wuxian boasted, and Nie Huaisang poked his head out from behind Nie Mingjue’s back and waved – he’d been dragged away to saber training, leaving Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng to try to make friends without him. Without Lan Wangji, too, which was even more unfair; how was Wei Wuxian supposed to represent the gentle snow and wild wind without his other half?

Stupid seclusion. Wei Wuxian was with his uncle in disliking it even when it was necessary.

Though Jiang Cheng was kind of cool…

-

“This is,” Lan Qiren informed Cangse Sanren’s memorial tablet, “entirely your fault.”

Despite her son’s newfound demonic cultivation skills – or his taste for revenge: he had taken the burning of the Cloud Recesses very personally, and the attack on the Lotus Pier, and so on his best friend Jiang Cheng, very nearly as badly, and that, somehow, had inspired him in new and even more uncontrolled ways – there was no response from the grave.

And yet, somehow, Lan Qiren suspected that he could hear her laughing at him.

[fannish-karmiya]

The sects are all essentially independent governments. They have a responsibility to investigate for themselves before entering into a war on the say-so of an ally like Lanling Jin or Yunmeng Jiang. Would we accept it if a modern government didn't do their own damn intelligence work and just trusted a foreign power to do it for them?

Furthermore, it's extremely clear in canon that Lan Xichen knew things were off, and he just didn't care.

He's right here in Koi Tower when Wei Wuxian tells us how the Wens are being treated and states that Wen Qing's branch are innocent:

Wei WuXian, “Fine. I don’t mind explaining it in greater detail. You couldn’t catch the bat king and happened to run into a few of the Wen Sect’s disciples who were there to investigate the same thing. And so, you threatened them to carry spirit-attraction flags to be your bait. They didn’t dare do it. One person stepped out and tried to reason with you. That’s the Wen Ning I’m talking about. After some delay, the bat king got away. You beat up the Wen cultivators, took them away by force, and the group disappeared. Do I need to say any more details? They still haven’t returned yet. Apart from you, I don’t know who in the world I could possibly ask.”

[...]

Wei WuXian nodded, “Sect Leader Jin, it was never my intention to disturb your private banquet. My apologies. However, the whereabouts of the people whom Young Master Jin took are still unclear. Just a moment of delay, and it might be too late. One of the group had once saved me before. I will definitely not sit back and watch. Please do not feel pressured. I will make amends for this at a later date.”

[...]

Wei WuXian, “Did I say something wrong? Forcing living people to be bait and beating them up whenever they refused to obey—is this any different from what the QishanWen Sect does?”

[...]

Wei WuXian, “Take revenge on the ones who bite you. Wen Ning’s branch doesn’t have much blood on their hands. Don’t tell me that you find them guilty by association?”

(Chapter 72, Exiled Rebels translation)

Lan Xichen doesn't seem to find any of this concerning at all. He certainly never acts on any of these allegations. And he even says himself that Wen Qing's branch is innocent later in the meeting in Koi Tower after the liberation of Qiongqi Path!

Lan XiChen responded a moment later, “I have heard of Wen Qing’s name a few of times. I do not remember her having participated in any of the Sunshot Campaign’s crimes.”

Nie MingJue, “But she’s never stopped them either.”

Lan XiChen, “Wen Qing was one of Wen RuoHan’s most trusted people. How could she have stopped them?”

Nie MingJue spoke coldly, “If she responded with only silence and not opposition when the Wen Sect was causing mayhem, it’s the same as indifference. She shouldn’t have been so disillusioned as to hope that she could be treated with respect when the Wen Sect was doing evil and be unwilling to suffer the consequences and pay the price when the Wen Sect was wiped out.”

Lan XiChen knew that because of what happened to his father, Nie MingJue abhorred Wen-dogs more than anything, especially with how intolerable he was toward evil. Lan XiChen didn’t say anything else.

(Chapter 73, Exiled Rebels translation)

He just doesn't care enough to make more than a few token protests. Placating Nie Mingjue is more important to him than the lives of the Wens. His friend's feelings are more important to him than innocent lives. You can't say that he's just placating him for now to be diplomatic; he never pursues any of these allegations of abuse against the Wens, and later allows his sect to attend the pledge conference at Nightless City where all the sects gather swearing to massacre Wei Wuxian and the Wens.

Would people be making these excuses in a real life case of ethnic cleansing or genocide? I would hope not, but based on fandom's behaviour...well, I find it raises a very dark mirror to human nature.

[vrishchikawrites]

Some Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian friendship please?

Like wwx was the first person to understand that Nie Huaisang was a "useless" young master only on purpose.

You can choose if :

Post cannon?

Cannon divergence?

Cannon divergence: where he's a better friend so he makes him joint he Nie clan? Or something? who knows?

You can also choose if Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang are friends.

(Imagine NHS-WWX-LWJ are buddies since cloud recesses days and go forth, lol. Canon divergence from the point of JC denouncing WWX)

“Listen to me for once!”

Nie Huaisang didn't mean to shout, not really. It is never a good idea to shout at his da-ge because it only provokes anger in return. But Wei-xiong is in danger and no one is helping. Nie Huaisang may be a useless cultivator in many people’s eyes but he refuses to be a useless friend.

The desperation in his stone catches da-ge’s attention and his older brother looks at him with a severe frown, “That boy is cultivating the ghostly path, Huaisang! Even his sect leader distrusts him!”

“Exactly! Da-ge, I’m not stupid, no matter how much you like to believe I am-”

“I don’t!”

Huaisang ignores him, “I know Wei-xiong. He may be mischievous but he’s not evil. If you don’t believe me, ask Lan Wangji! You can trust his word, yes? If you can’t trust your own brother’s.”

“Watch your tone,” Nie Mingjue growls, “You have earned every bit of my suspicion, Huaisang. Don’t pretend otherwise.” Huaisang winces, “I’m not dismissing your concerns but I need more than just your instincts to intervene. Do you have anything more than ‘i know him, da-ge’?” His brother asks and arches a brow.

Huaisang takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts. Hundreds of little observations, pieces of a puzzle too scattered, swirl around in his mind. He has held these pieces close to this heart for years, knowing that it would’ve been disastrous to reveal them during the war. But Nie Huiasang can no longer afford to be silent. Every time he hears someone spitting out his best friend’s name like a curse, something in him burns.

Wei Wuxian is so genuinely good-natured, he will accept everyone as they are. Wei Wuxian is always willing to step between an enemy and a friend, ready to take the blow of them.

There are few people in cultivation as honorable and compassionate as Wei-xiong and Nie Huaisang doesn’t want to see that light diminish.

Da-ge is silent, as though sensing Huaisang’s turmoil.

He straightens and tucks his fan away, meeting his older brother’s gaze head-on, without hesitation. That is enough for da-ge to frown and gesture towards an empty seat. Huaisang quickly goes about making tea as he speaks, “Please be patient with me, da-ge,” He begs, “Let me explain the full picture so you can see what I see. All of this may seem like speculation, but I have proof, circumstantial, but proof nonetheless.”

Nie Mingjue’s expression is now serious and placid, like he’s fully willing to listen to what his brother has to say.

“You… you don’t know, Wei-xiong. He cherished his cultivation, da-ge,” He explains, “It is no accident or act of fate that he was so good at it - good enough to even challenge Lan Wangji. He did the work to get there; he was brilliant but he was also incredibly hardworking. His cultivation was the result of years of refinement. Suibian was his constant companion and he wielded it like it was his soul.”

His brother is still because he’s not stupid.

“Is it not strange that we hear rumors of Wei Wuxian being captured by Wen Chao- by Wen Zhuliu - and see him return with a new cultivation that doesn’t require a Golden Core?”

His da-ge is definitely paying attention now.

“But is it not stranger that the Wens claim they had taken Jiang Wanyin’s core, only for Jiang-zongzhu to come back stronger? His cultivation is so refined and powerful, he is now a force to be reckoned with. Is it not strange, da-ge, that a man that couldn’t push his core even after years of diligent training managed to strengthen so significantly in a matter of months?”

“What are you saying, Huaisang?”

“I’m saying that Wei Wuxian doesn’t have a Golden Core. He hasn’t had it for the entire duration of the war. He lost it during or before those three months he was missing. I’m saying those rumors about him being tossed into the Burial Mounds are likely to be true. I’m saying that Wei-xiong is exactly the kind of person who would use word games to make people believe otherwise. He’s also the kind of person who would do everything in his power to protect his martial siblings.”

Nie Mingue looks stunned, “He walked into war without his Golden Core?”

“I am absolutely certain he did.”

Nie Mingjue stares at his brother, “But you… don’t believe Wen Zhuliu took his core.”

Huaisang hesitates, “This is where I hesitate, da-ge. My instincts tell me it's not that simple. I have known both Wei-xiong and Jiang-zongzhu for a long time. We lived in close quarters and I may not be a good cultivator, but that doesn’t mean I miss small details. Jiang Wanyin feels just as powerful as Wei-xiong did, back then.”

“And you believe that’s impossible?” Da-ge arches a skeptical brow, “You, by your own admission, don’t like him.”

“Wen Qing nearly published a paper on Golden Core transfer. Wen Ning rescued Jiang Wanyin from Wen Chao’s grasp.” He takes a deep breath, “Wei Wuxian just gave up everything to repay a debt that Jiang Wanyin admitted he owed.” Nie Huaisang doesn’t know everything, but he has had years to figure out enough.

Suddenly, all the skepticism leaves his older brother’s face.

“Let’s speak with Lan Wangji.”

---

Wangji-xiong takes it like a blow to his chest.

Huaisang sees him flinch and he sees Xichen-ge step forward in concern, “Wangji...” Xichen-ge looks like he doesn’t know what to say and how to reassure his brother.

Huaisang may consider Wei Wuxian his best friend, but he firmly believes that no one cares for him more than Lan Wangji.

The Hanguang-jun believes him. That's clear from his expression.

Wangji-xiong has likely been aware of those scattered puzzle pieces as well. He just hadn’t put them together until now.

“This is all speculation,” Xichen-ge tries to interject, “There may not be any need to worry, Wangji.”

“Wei Ying’s heart hasn’t changed.”

Xichen-ge stills and Huaisang watches as icy resolve settles on Wangji-xiong’s face, “I’ll bring him.”

“Wangji-”

“Wangji begs your pardon, xiongzhang,” The Hanguang-jun turns around and walks swiftly towards the door. He offers no other word or explanation.

“Huaisang,” Xichen-ge’s voice is displeased, “You should have come to me with this first. Wangji is… attached to Wei-gongzi.”

Surprisingly, it is da-ge who intervenes.

“If you can give Meng Yao the benefit of the doubt, you can extend the same courtesy to Huaisang and Wangji’s friend, Xichen.” Nie Mingjue is scowling, “We have more reason to fault his character than Wei-gongzi’s.”

It is probably the harshest thing da-ge has ever said to Xichen-ge and it shows. The First Jade visibly calms himself and nods graciously, but there’s a glint of displeasure in his eyes. Jin Guangyao has been a bone of contention between da-ge and Xichen-ge for several months now. Huaisang should probably look into the matter a little more but Wei-xiong’s situation demands all of his attention.

Now that Jiang Wanyin announced Wei Wuxian’s defection to the entire cultivation world, he’s a free agent with a powerful ability and an even more powerful tool. With the Jins and their successful rumor-mongering, Huaisang fears they don’t have much time. Jin Guangshan has already driven a wedge between Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian. How much more can they accomplish if Huaisang doesn’t intervene somehow?

---

Wangji-xiong doesn’t return with Wei Wuxian. He brings Wen Qing and wears an expression of outright fury on his usually stoic face.

“I transferred his Golden Core into Jiang Wanyin.” Wen Qing declares with a straight back and a steady glare. She looks right into da-ge’s eyes, “I helped Jiang Wanyin recover from his captivity and then agreed to perform the procedure.”

Huaisang sits down as his worst fear is confirmed.

He had hoped… he had desperately hoped he had been wrong but as Wen Qing goes on to describe everything, explaining how the procedure worked and what Wei-xiong had to endure for his martial brother’s sake, he becomes certain she is telling the truth.

And this is exactly what Wei Wuxian would do. It would be too far-fetched and outrageous for anyone else, but Wei-xiong- his capacity for self-sacrifice has always worried Huaisang and Lan Wangji.

“Where is he?” Nie Mingjue demands, “Did you leave him in the Burial Grounds? In his state?”

“Wei Ying refuses to come,” Lan Wangji says, his expression pale and tight, “He must keep the resentful spirits at bay and protect the Wens. There’s a child among them, barely two years old.”

Xichen-ge sucks in a breath, closing his eyes in dismay.

“He’s injured.” Wangji-xiong continues, “He was gutted by Jiang Wanyin in a staged fight.” Huaisang looks up sharply, “He hasn’t healed and yet persists to place himself at risk.”

“Wangji, we will help him,” Xichen-ge assures, “I apologize for not understanding the situation, but now we know and we will help him.”

“So they fought to spare the Jiang Sect,” Huaisang speculates with a frown, “But… why not just tell us? Surely Jiang-zongzhu knows he just had to mention his debt to you, Wen-guniang.”

“We have misunderstood Jiang Wanyin’s character greatly.” That is a big condemnation coming from the Hanguang-jun himself. Huaisang is certain that Wangji-xiong isn’t inclined to be charitable now. Jiang Wanyin did hurt Wei Wuxian seriously, after all.

“He won’t move until we do something to help the Wens.” Huaisang concludes, opening his fan in a snap and waving it furiously, “Because he’s just that stubborn. If he owes Wen-guniang and Wen-gongzi a debt, nothing is going to move him, not even Wangji-xiong.”

“I have never been able to move him.” Lan Wangji says icily and it seems like they’re feeding off each other’s ire.

Really, Wei-xiong is so frustrating to deal with sometimes. He doesn’t know how Lan Wangji handles being in love with him, Huaisang already feels nauseous. Wei Wuxian is in such a precarious position now that if they don’t act fast, he would…

He would likely be imprisoned or killed.

“Let’s offer the Wens some protection then.” Nie Huaisang says.

“Huaisang,” Da-ge warns, “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” He demands, turning towards his brother and Lan Xichen, “Will the Jins retaliate? If both Lans and Nies stand together on the matter, what will they do? The Wens don’t need to be free, they need to be safe and healthy. We can keep them contained in a small farming village, forbid cultivation and absorb any children into one of our clans. Let’s take Wei-xiong into the Nie clan and let the Wens settle in the northern reaches. The area is fairly remote and life will be hard but safe, better than the Burial Mounds at any rate!”

He doesn’t know what kind of expression he has on his face but da-ge looks faintly amused, “You’ll take on the Jins?”

“If I have to!”

“He means that much to you?”

Huaisang swallows and thinks of days spent in merriment and comfort. Of a friendly arm tossed around his shoulder and a laughing voice dragging him into all sorts of mischief. He thinks of warm silver eyes that never looked down at him and nods, “Yes, he does.”

Wei-xiong has always helped him and treated him with respect. It is time for him to return the favor.

---

It is a near miracle that everything works out as planned. Well, almost everything. No one is pleased when the Lans and Nies band together to take over the Wen remnants. Fortunately, the Jiangs don’t have any room to object. Da-ge doesn't hesitate to reveal that Jiang Wanyin owes Wen Ning his life. Jiang Wanyin's honor is called into question but he suffers no other consequence for his dishonesty. Nie Huaisang doesn’t care but he notices how it guts Wei-xiong.

Apparently, when Wei-xiong and Jiang Wanyin agreed to part ways, Jiang-zongzhu only needed to say Wei Wuxian had left the Jiangs. There was no need to outright state that his sect brother had betrayed the entire cultivation world!

Either Jiang-zonghzu is incredibly naive or he deliberately placed Wei Wuxian in a difficult position without his knowledge.

Either way, Nie Huaisang is content to see that relationship severed. In his humble opinion, he makes a much better martial brother. And Wei-xiong could certainly benefit from being under the thumb of someone as protective as da-ge. He’s entirely too willing to place himself in harm’s way!

Humming under his breath and happy that everything turned out according to plan, Nie Huaisang turns around the corner and pauses. He quickly takes a few steps back until he’s out of sight. Peeking cautiously around the corner, he hides a grin behind his fan as he sees Wei-xiong fall off a tree and right into Lan Wangji’s arms.

Huaisang bites back a laugh when Wei Wuxian stays in place, arms around Lan Wangji shoulders and eyes peering up at the Second Jade.

He had been suspicious about them since Lan Wangji all but dragged Wei Wuxian to the Unclean Realm. His best friend arrived with flushed cheeks and suspiciously red lips but everyone pointedly ignored it, too eager to avoid that particular mess.

He smiles, chuckling under his breath when Wangji-xiong pulls Wei Wuxian closer and dips his head.

Turning around, he starts walking away, leaving the lovers to their business.

Besides, da-ge would want to know about this.

[ibijau]

Here's a prompt: Lan Xichen somehow dies while in seclusion—or at least that's what the rumors say—and Nie Huaisang deals with the consequences. And heartbreak. As the saying goes, you don't realize how much you love someone until they're gone.

Okay, if that sort of plot interests you, do yourself a favour and check Between the Shadow and the Soul which is exactly that. It's an amazing xisang fic, I cannot recommend it warmly enough!

And now:

Warning in this fic for a lot of references to suicide and depression

It struck Nie Huaisang as interesting that he felt so little about the whole thing. His reaction upon learning the news had been first to dismiss it as a joke in poor taste. Once it had been confirmed, and his presence had been required, he'd been too busy planning his trip to give it much thought. Then he'd arrived in the Cloud Recesses, just in time for the funeral, and gone through the motions of what was expected of him. At most he'd felt mildly when asked to keep vigil, as if there was still any connection between them. He'd only agreed for the sake of appearances, refused to look at the body, and gave his seat to the next mourner as soon as was polite.

The ceremony itself was conducted to perfection, as could be expected of the Lans. Every word was said the right way, every gesture graceful. It was almost a beautiful thing to behold, Nie Huaisang distantly thought. Lan Qiren's monotone voice was better suited for such events than for teaching, certainly. And Lan Wangji had always looked his best when in the throes of loss and despair. Sadness just became those Lans a little too well, as if they'd been born for tragedy.

Perhaps they were.

Nie Huaisang did not dwell on the subject, and allowed time to pass him by until at last the ceremony was entirely over. He would have gone home right then if he could have, his duty accomplished, but it would have been noticed and discussed. Nie Huaisang did not want to get mixed up in the gossip that was sure to spread around after this.

“Did they tell anyone what he died of?” Sect Leader Yao asked in a too loud whisper while waiting for the refreshment promised to the guests.

“I've only heard that because of his seclusion, it took them several days to even notice he had passed,” Sect Leader Ouyang replied. Then, noticing Nie Huaisang standing alone nearby, he gestured at him to join them. Nie Huaisang tried to pretend he hadn't seen them, but it was in vain as Sect Leader Ouyang called him by name until he couldn't be ignored anymore. “Join us please! You were his friend, weren't you? Surely you must know more than us.”

It was a sign of the hollowness that had seized Nie Huaisang since learning of the news that he did not laugh. What friends they had been indeed. Once, perhaps... but no, the word would never have been right to describe them. They were acquaintances at best, brought together out of love for Mingjue, torn apart after his death even if Lan Xichen hadn't known it then.

He'd learned it, in time.

Two years earlier, when Nie Huaisang had finally given a proper funeral to his brother, Lan Xichen had tried to talk to him about everything that had happened. Lan Xichen had wanted the truth, and he'd certainly gotten it. Nie Huaisang, bitter and angry and broken after going through the pain of burying his brother again, had not spared the other man a single detail of everything he'd done, everything he'd learned, everything he'd felt.

Two weeks after that, Lan Xichen had entered seclusion and they'd never met again, unless one counted what little time Nie Huaisang had spent with the other man's coffin.

Nie Huaisang did not think it counted.

“I have not been told anything more than anyone else,” Nie Huaisang said, more careful than the other two to keep his voice down.

“It is just too odd,” Sect Leader Yao said. “A man his age doesn't die without reason, and his cultivation was far too great to allow for sickness!”

“Surely I don't know what Yao-zongzhu might be suggesting.”

“I am just saying it is very odd,” Sect Leader Yao insisted, glancing toward Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji with what he had to consider a knowing expression.

“Ah,” Nie Huaisang said.

They were thinking Lan Xichen had been murdered, then.

It was amazing, he thought, that anyone could misunderstand Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji this much. Perhaps the second's reputation was no longer as pristine as it had once been, due to his open association with the Yiling Patriarch, but he could hardly have been accused of killing his brother when he profited so little from his death. It was to Lan Qiren that the title of Sect Leader went, something which had been decided long ago, and which Lan Wangji would have known. Not that Lan Wangji would ever have wanted such a title. And as to accusing Lan Qiren of murdering his nephew, it was ridiculous. There were few men in the world whose honour Nie Huaisang believed in, but Lan Qiren was definitely of the number.

If it was not an ordinary sickness that had killed Lan Xichen, and it was not another person either, then it left only one option.

The Lans tended to easily fall prey to melancholy, Lan Xichen had once told Nie Huaisang, during one of those rare true and sincere conversations between them, when they had both bared more of their soul to the other than they'd intended. And that melancholy was a powerful sort, Lan Xichen had explained, more dangerous than any disease, any war, any demon. The way he had spoken of it had made it clear that Lan Xichen himself particularly struggled with it ever since becoming Sect Leader during the war, a struggle he hid under a mask no less carefully crafted than Nie Huaisang’s. Lan Xichen had told him he thought that melancholy would overcome him someday as it had done others in his family, an affliction no less powerful than that the Nie suffered.

So it was clear to Nie Huaisang that the manner of Lan Xichen's death was...

His whole body shook as he hurriedly fought to contain a sob.

“Nie-zongzhu?” Sect Leader Ouyang said with concern. “Are you unwell?”

Nie Huaisang shook his head. He was fine. He was unaffected. They'd never even been close.

Another sob had to be contained.

Nie Huaisang took a deep breath, and smiled weakly.

“Nothing dramatic,” he said with a voice he scarcely recognised as his own. “A moment of... I have known him for so long.”

“Of course. This must be hard on you. He must have been like a brother to you.”

Nie Huaisang made a noise. A sob, or a laugh, he could not have said, but it was too loud and attracted more attention than he cared to deal with. Having spent the last couple of years carefully working to undo the damage he had done to his own reputation, Nie Huaisang could not have born to be seen crying in public, something he now felt the danger of. He muttered some vague apology to the two men standing near him, and excused himself from the assembly. He managed to keep himself in check until he had left everyone behind, and only broke into tears when he was sure to be alone.

Gone was the numbness that had so puzzled him since hearing that Lan Xichen had been found dead, because the full horror of that loss finally hit him.

Lan Xichen was gone.

Lan Xichen was dead.

He would never again come by the Unclean Realm in answer to a desperate plea for help that never really needed his input. There would be no more praises of Nie Huaisang's birds, his fans, his paintings. No more gentle comforting and undeserved patience.

Lan Xichen was dead.

And if Nie Huaisang had acted with less cruelty, Lan Xichen might not have killed himself.

-

Nie Huaisang, a month after returning home, wondered whether melancholy was a contagious ailment, and whether one might catch it from sitting near the corpse of a man who had died from it.

He made the mistake of asking Nie Liyan, his favourite cousin and heir, expecting her to laugh or tease him. Instead she gave him a most pitiful look, and told him that melancholy was most often caught in such a manner, especially if the corpse was that of a person held dear.

It had never occurred to Nie Huaisang to think that Lan Xichen might be dear to him. The man was merely there, full of good intentions and blind to the nature of those around him. They had shared pleasant moments together perhaps, but no more than Nie Huaisang had done with others. In fact, Nie Huaisang was quite sure he had laughed more with Jin Guangyao than with Lan Xichen. If asked, he might have admitted that he'd held warmer feelings than he ought to have toward the man who had so cruelly murdered his brother. But Lan Xichen?

Nie Huaisang would have been hard pressed to decide what he felt for the man while he was alive. Only in death was he forced to realise that Lan Xichen too had been an important figure in his life and, yes, perhaps dearer than he would have liked. But it was hard to hate a man such as Lan Xichen, he told Nie Liyan when the realisation became too bothersome to bear it alone. Nie Huaisang simply could not imagine that anyone in the world might have met Lan Xichen and not liked him.

“I've never understood what people saw in him,” Nie Liyan had just replied. “And I've told you as much many times, even before your brother's death. His looks were good but not to the degree everyone claimed, he smiled too much, and he spoke too much like a book.”

“That says more about your tastes than about his qualities,” Nie Huaisang retorted hotly.

“Perhaps. Or it says something about your tastes.”

That insolent answer had not pleasant Nie Huaisang, who had promptly changed the topic, and never breached it again with her.

-

The melancholy did not ease with time, but instead invited some friends to live with it in Nie Huaisang's heart.

Such as a sharp terror over the concept of his own mortality.

Nie Huaisang had always known he would die early. It ran in the family, and he'd seen it happen twice already to his own relative. Considering his own temper, his weak and unstable cultivation, Nie Huaisang had long feared that he would not even live long enough to see his brother avenged. This had made him frustrated with the slow pace he'd been forced to endure, which in turn had only had a worse effect on his general state. Things had improved after the death of Jin Guangyao, making Nie Huaisang hope he might perhaps make it to the venerable age of forty, something neither his brother nor his father had managed.

The death of Lan Xichen robbed him of that hope.

It was only, Nie Huaisang told himself, that the loss had reminded him people died of reasons other than familial curses or to pay the price of their hubris. Death, even for cultivators, was not an uncommon occurrence, so no man could leave his bed in the morning and be certain he would return to it at night. And if he were to die now, what would he have to show for it except a sect that still wouldn’t be treated seriously, and the blood on his hands?

That consideration was also an important one in making a decision. No matter how hard he tried, Nie Huaisang couldn’t seem to correct the reputation he had given his sect. When people talked about the changes happening in Qinghe Nie, the way it might has started to become reliable once more, they always felt the need to point out that it could be nothing more than a stroke of luck, something that was sure to return to normal very soon under Nie Huaisang’s poor guidance. It was a source of great annoyance to him that people now considered it normal for Qinghe Nie to be weak and useless, when not twenty years earlier it had been greater than Lanling Jin.

It would take a dramatic change for people to accept that Qinghe Nie was returning to its roots.

So Nie Huaisang told Nie Liyan that he would abdicate in her favour.

She was more than ready for this, he told her. They had been working in tandem since long before the death of Jin Guangyao, and she had proven multiple times that she would handle the position of Sect Leader better than he ever would. She was a good administrator, with great martial art skill, a cultivation level that was among the best in their generation. She was also an excellent teacher, and well liked by all the disciples, from young juniors who had never known their sect’s glorious days to elders who’d known Nie Huaisang’s father as a young child. Nie Huaisang and Nie Liyan had always agreed that she would succeed him if he died the way his family so often did, or whenever he would decide to give up on a position he had never wanted.

“Are you sure now is the right time?” Nie Liyan only asked him.

“There is no right time for these things. But Lanling Jin is still not quite stable yet, Gusu Lan is in the hands of an old friend, and Yunmeng Jiang is caught up in the Jins’ business. That means the three great sects won’t give you a hard time as you settle in, and I know you can handle the others.”

“And what will you do?”

“Travel, perhaps,” Nie Huaisang replied without conviction.

He had never planned for what he would do after handing her his title, and realised suddenly that he’d never expected to be alive for that. No matter how often they discussed the possibility of a quiet succession, Nie Huaisang had never really considered he would be luckier than his father and brother. Yet there he was, suddenly forced to accept that tomorrow was something that existed for him while also dreading the uncertainty of his own mortality.

Nie Liyan accepted his answer, and they set out to plan the succession, calculate the best possible date for it, and choose how to announce the news to other sects. They did not talk about Nie Huaisang’s future any further, for which he was grateful. He had a vague suspicion that Nie Liyan thought he intended to kill himself, which would explain why she kept suggesting he took a companion with him when he left.

Nie Huaisang promised to consider it. He even did wonder who in the world might be a travelling companion worth putting up with. Nobody from his own sect would do, as he thought they would quickly grow bored of any destination that might appeal to him. And there was no one left outside of Qinghe Nie who he felt close enough to. It was only a pity, he thought one night, that Lan Xichen had passed away, as he would have been a very interesting person to have on a journey. Someone who shared his sense of beauty and his love of great landscape, who would not complain if Nie Huaisang asked to stop and paint but might instead join him. And perhaps travelling in that manner might have lifted some of Lan Xichen’s melancholy in a way that locking himself up away from the world could never have done.

Perhaps it could have saved Lan Xichen.

Nie Huaisang slept little that night, half drowning on sorrows and what-if that could never come true.

Come morning, he told Nie Liyan that he would travel alone, and she did not insist.

-

Nie Huaisang left the Unclean Realm as soon as the succession ceremony was over so he wouldn’t have a chance to change his mind. He recently bought an excellent horse, and the animal was packed with whatever belongings could not be put inside a qiankun pouch. Nie Huaisang had money, he had clothes, everything needed to paint and write. He even had a destination in mind at last, one suggested to him by Lan Qiren, of all people. The old teacher, upon learning of his intention to step down, had written him a thoughtful letter wishing him the best of luck in his new life, inviting him to come and stay in the Cloud Recesses if he ever went that way so they might play weiqi together, and suggesting he should go visit Baidi in his exile, where he too might become inspired to write some poetry. Perhaps, Lan Qiren added, a place so rich in history would help him find new meaning to his life.

The idea had something romantic to it. More than that, though, Nie Huaisang remembered that several times over the course of their acquaintance, Lan Xichen had expressed a wish to visit the city, while always failing to find an excuse to do so. It seemed appropriate that Nie Huaisang’s first destination should be inspired by the man whose death had forced him to reconsider his own life.

So Nie Huaisang set out toward Baidi, and promised himself to enjoy his time there, for Lan Xichen’s sake as well as his own.

[satan-chillin]

Hereafter (2/7)

Wei Wuxian is sent off of Cloud Recesses, bade by his fathers to "have fun and make friends" which, now that he thinks about it, sounds like a gross oversimplification of what the next six months away from home will entail.

If he happens to form unlikely connections, start a matchmaking, and gets unwittingly involved in the presently strained political state of the cultivation world, those are just par for the course.

Chasing after one of the famed Twin Jades of Lan, however, is an added bonus.

(Or, WWX was sent to Gusu by his fathers Wen Kexing & Zhou Zishu)

Part 2 of Spirited Away Series. Part 1 here.

Also available in Ao3. Hereafter Chapter 1 here.

❆❆❆

Putting aside the Wen debacle in the orientation day and his shixiong’s leave—which Chengling had done after waiting for Wei Wuxian’s first classes to end so he could bid his junior a proper farewell—his first week was rather promising.

For one thing, he finally had the name of that Lan Disciple: Lan Zhan, courtesy name Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian shouldn’t be surprised at the name given his display of dedication; he, of course, elected not to call him that. Lan Zhan rolled off the tongue more than Lan Wangji.

“You’re quite bold, aren’t you?” was Nie Huaisang response to that. He was a fast acquaintance and a faster friend who found Wei Wuxian a quick study and who in turn Wei Wuxian also found interesting. They got along like house on fire especially during the times Nie Huaisang proved to be a trove of gossips within the cultivation world. “I’ve known him longer, but I won’t dare address one of the Twin Jades of Lan informally."

Twin Jades sounded fitting. Notwithstanding Lan Xichen’s warm disposition and Lan Zhan’s standoffish character, Wei Wuxian could somehow understand how the brothers were said to be similar in appearance—at a glance, that was. He was quite proud to admit that he could spot numerous differences between them aside from the eyes.

Wei Wuxian hummed, absently remembering the forehead ribbon he had snatched and safely kept in a pouch at the bottom of his chest. For safekeeping. Not that it was terribly missed, he thought, not after he last noticed Lan Zhan wearing a new one.

“And you?” he asked. “What do they call you?”

“I might have earned the title of the Most Useless Young Master,” Nie Huaisang replied blithely. “I haven’t heard it directly from anyone, mind, but Wanyin might have mentioned it in passing.”

At the careless shrug Wei Wuxian got in response to his incredulous blink, he scoffed. Alright, so Nie Huaisang might not have the making of a standard cultivator—belonging from a prominent sect famous for their prowess with the saber and as a younger brother of a known cultivator might have demanded more than the average from him—but he was far from useless. While he was aware of his complete lack of martial talent combined with a weak golden core, Nie Huaisang excelled in the other aspects like the finer arts and literature.

The first time they interacted, Wei Wuxian had mistakenly thought that he cultivated with a fan and wielded it in place of a sword, but instead, they had ended up discussing the finer details of the intricate painting on his fan. Wei Wuxian lacked the aptitude for painting despite liking to watch a-die paint, and Nie Huaisang, with his own creation depicting the mountains of his homeland, was outstanding in his own right for their age.

From what Wei Wuxian knew of the Qinghe Nie Sect, Nie Huaisang must be the polar opposite of their values, with his slight build, meek personality, and overall soft nature. You’d look at him and see someone to protect instead of a protector—the impression which Wei Wuxian might have instinctually adopted as the truth. Not to mention that he was already piling up plenty of owed favor after Nie Huaisang handled the previously unruly raven Chengling left for him as a messenger bird between Four Seasons Sect and Cloud Recesses. Nie Huaisang had not only adeptly tamed the raven; he was also going into the trouble of keeping it from stern eyes together with the variety of his kept birds caught in interest.

Up to this day, Wei Wuxian still didn’t know how the raven remained silent.

“You’re not useless,” he argued, though Nie Huaisang’s pout said that he was more offended by that. “What I’m asking is what they call you if the Lan has the Twin Jades. Surely the Nie Sect aren’t blind and can see that they have an attractive young master.”

Nie Huaisang blinked at him in disbelief before an endearing tint of red broke across his cheeks that he hastily hid behind his fan. “Wei-xiong! D-Don’t say embarrassing things like that!”

Oh ho, Wei Wuxian thought gleefully. Who would have thought that a young master was unused to compliments? And he thought that was only Lan Zhan. Smirking, he touched the top of the fan with a finger and brought it down to uncover Nie Huaisang’s face teasingly.

“Huaisang!”

A scowling young master came approaching with thundering steps. Wei Wuxian racked his mind for a name; Jiang Wanyin, if he recalled correctly, who Nie Huaisang was quite close to.

He went to make a gesture of a formal greeting when Jiang Wanyin outright ignored him in favor of Nie Huaisang, glaring down at him as he barked, “Where have you been? You promised A-jie you’ll join us for lunch.”

“Ah, sorry, Wanyin. I kinda forgot,” came the nervous reply. “I’ll make it up to Yanli-jie. Promise!” Nie Huaisang glanced between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin. “Speaking of which, you two haven’t been introduced yet, have you?”

“We haven’t,” Wei Wuxian said. Standing straighter, he bowed and introduced himself. Oddly enough, the mention of his name merely deepened Jiang Wanyin’s scowl, though he was not remiss in his courtesy, a little curt it might be. “Nie-xiong and I lost track of time when he showed me how to track that rosefinch by the stream.”

“Wanyin, you should come with us next time,” Nie Huaisang eagerly said. “You can teach us how to fish.” At Wei Wuxian, he shared, “Yunmeng Jiang is based in Lotus Pier so they’re near a big lake. Their disciples are very good swimmers, and Wanyin here is one of the best.”

Interestingly, Jiang Wanyin’s face colored—truly, what was with the young masters here being unused to a little bit of compliment?—though he hid it with a clearing of his throat. He didn’t seem keen to engage with Wei Wuxian in a conversation, electing to mutter, “I’ve taught you before.”

“That was years ago! You can’t expect me to remember how when I can’t even remember the lesson earlier.”

“Says the person who can memorize an anthology,” inputted Wei Wuxian. “Which reminds me—drop by later tonight. I’m going to show you something.” Nie Huaisang would definitely like his baba’s written poems.

“There’s a curfew at nine,” Jiang Wanyin retorted, crossing his arms in disapproval. “Your brother won’t like it if he heard you’ve been fooling around,” he admonished Nie Huaisang.

“Da-ge knows I’m fooling around though. Besides, what makes you think we’ll be caught?”

Wei Wuxian nodded sagely. “Nie-xiong will provide the silencing talisman, and I have an extra measure of security in my room. You’re invited too, Young Master Jiang. I’ll supply the alcohol, of course, but you have to bring in something too. Peanuts, maybe?”

“Wanyin, Yanli-jie still has lotus seeds, right?” Nie Huaisang asked. He nudged Wei Wuxian. “You have to try them.”

“Alcohol is forbidden here.” With Jiang Wanyin’s impassioned reminder, one would think he was doing very well mimicking an uptight Lan Disciple. “Just because you like breaking rules from day one means you can drag others into doing the same.”

And, oh, that was for Wei Wuxian.

Nie Huaisang smacked his folded fan on Jiang Wanyin’s arm with a resounding hit which would have been amusing, seeing as he was also adorably glaring like an angry puppy, if Wei Wuxian wasn’t befuddled at the sudden hostility from basically a stranger. It was enough, however, to send Jiang Wanyin into confused indignation that Nie Huaisang took advantage of, bodily turning him by the shoulders and dragging-ly pushed him with merely a yell of a “Later, Wei-xiong!” before hurrying away.

Wei Wuxian watched their backs, distantly hearing the unintelligible noise of bickering, and wondered what to make of Jiang Wanyin’s peculiar attitude towards him.

❆❆❆

He heard the coded knock at the exact time, and Nie Huaisang slipped in noiselessly alone.

“I went to Wanyin first. He’s already sleeping,” he said sheepishly. “Sorry about earlier. Wanyin has a temper, but he’s not normally that rude.”

Wei Wuxian waved a hand dismissively. He expected this already. “It’s done, Nie-xiong. Don’t sweat it.” Though he would rather not have Nie Huaisang apologizing when he wasn’t the impolite one in the first place.

He smiled, easing the tension on Nie Huaisang’s shoulders. With Wei Wuxian’s permission, he set on placing the silencing talismans. He observed him work, whistling lowly; he had to learn how to recreate those.

Once Nie Huaisang was done, Wei Wuxian did his own magic, gesturing at Nie Huaisang to crouch next to him. He watched with curiosity at the wooden cube half the size of a palm inlaid with a square of metal that Wei Wuxian placed where the edges of the doors meet. Pressing the metal that served as a button, tiny, curved, iron barbs embedded themselves on the wooden frame.

“There! No one will barge in on us.” At Nie Huaisang’s rapt stare, he explained, “It’s a mechanism from Longyuan Valley. They have all sorts of toys there, from locks to specialized boxes, but the most fascinating are their traps and the structure of the Longyuan Cabinet itself.”

He went into a narration of the brief history of Longyuan and how his shixiong came to be its sole disciple. Nie Huaisang was a great listener, especially when Wei Wuxian launched into tales about his known home in the middle of sharing a jar of wine.

“You know, some of our scrolls said that our clan founder originated from jianghu,” he said. “He was a butcher, but that’s as much as we know of him.”

It wouldn’t be surprising if it was true. The people of the Nie Sect were martially inclined, famous for the typical aggression that characterized the pugilists in general. Wei Wuxian would also bet that way before there had been no clear distinction between cultivators and those who did not cultivate in the same manner.

“Maybe our ancestor was like one of those martial artists who managed to achieve immortality. It’s not like they’re different from cultivators who cultivated longevity,” Nie Huaisang speculated, hiccuping slightly. “We have this regular guest in the Unclean Realm who’s not a cultivator but is a semi-immortal, I think.”

“Semi-immortal?”

“I remember seeing him around since I was a kid, and he still looks young except he has more white in his hair. It suits him since he wears all white, and if anything, he looks handsome. Da-ge thinks so too, even if he's shy to say it aloud. I know him! Not that he needs more reason to like him because he’s really strong and likes to spar as much as da-ge. He gets really happy for weeks when he’s around.”

Wei Wuxian chuckled. Oddly enough, the white attire and wisps of white hair reminded him abruptly of a certain sour grandpa who he hadn’t seen for quite some time now. Grandpa Ye’s last visit at the Four Seasons Sect was three months ago.

Eventually, he remembered why he invited Nie Huaisang in his quarters past curfew, though he might be a little late in remembering seeing as they were already slurring by the time they perused baba’s original poems. At one point, Wei Wuxian whipped out his dizi, belting out random notes while Nie Huaisang whacked the table as an accompaniment, all the while singing praise to the great poet that was Wei Wuxian’s father and loudly claiming that he was ashamed of himself for not knowing him.

Thank the gods for the silencing talismans.

❆❆❆

If Wei Wuxian was asked, he’d say that it was a coincidence to stumble upon the clearing near the back hills of Cloud Recesses. If he happened to have heard that a certain young master could be found around this area, well.

A glare greeted Wei Wuxian. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m strolling the grounds and simply came across a young master diligently practicing his drills,” Wei Wuxian said airily. “Go on, Young Master Jiang.”

Jiang Wanyin clicked his tongue. “And enjoy a free commentary? No, thank you.”

“Fine. You’ll hear nothing from me. I’d love to watch and study forms from different cultivation sects. Lan Zhan made an exhibition of his, though I’m curious to see more of Lan Sect.” Jiang Wanyin looked as if he was torn between asking how in the hell he fought the Second Young Master Lan and responding with silence to discourage Wei Wuxian’s presence. The joke was on him if he thought he could send Wei Wuxian away that easy. “It was quite an evening,” he said wistfully. “In the blue night, he stands in the dark svelte and urgent. ”

Jiang Wanyin rolled his eyes and turned his back, completely missing the mischievous grin. Wei Wuxian reclined languidly once Jiang Wanyin continued with his training.

He moved like someone who began training at a young age, likely as young or younger than Wei Wuxian when a-die started instructing him. While his movements were not the fluid motion of Lan Zhan, Jiang Wanyin’s were just as solid with a different center for his foundation. He had a long torso and upper limbs—a swimmer’s build that might have influenced his prioritizing of strength over stealth.

“Your form is crooked,” Wei Wuxian called. While not as adept as Lan Zhan, it wasn’t necessarily a poor balance; call him petty, but this was his payback for their previous encounter. “Your right is your dominant side, isn’t it? Placing your left foot behind your right will abort your turn halfway.”

Jiang Wanyin threw a scowl past his shoulders but minutely corrected his posture. “I’m ambidextrous,” he argued.

“Yes, that’s very amazing of you, Young Master Jiang,” came the instant reply that further irked him. “I heard that Yunmeng Jiang practices archery. Your skills must be superb.”

“It’s a rudimentary skill any Jiang Disciple should learn.” Jiang Wanyin turned to him without sheathing his sword. “And you? What does your sect specialize in?” Coming from him, the question was akin to a demand.

“Plenty,” Wei Wuxian said. “My fathers are masters of different martial arts, but they use different weapons. A-die taught me the sword, and baba the fan. There’s also a skill in disguises passed down from generation to generation by Four Seasons Lords so a-die does the same but only to those interested. Baba originally came from a family of healers so he also teaches what he learned from his father. Four Seasons Sect is connected to two more sects because of its First Disciple, my shixiong, Zhang Chengling, and through that link, Four Seasons adopted other forms of teaching to disperse among its inner and guests disciples. If you’re looking for a single specialization our sect is known for, I can’t give you a definite one since we’re more of a sum of many parts.”

Jiang Wanyin looked at him peculiarly, and Wei Wuxian could see several questions running through his head yet voiced none. Then Jiang Wanyin’s scowl morphed into a perpetual frown instead. “Is that how they met your parents?”

Wei Wuxian was perplexed. “What?”

“Your masters… fathers. They sound like worldly people. Did they meet your birth parents on the road or did they come across your sect first?” Jiang Wanyin hesitated before adding, “I know you—or at least, I’ve heard of you before from my father. He said he was close friends with your birth father, Wei Changze. He used to be a Yunmeng Jiang Disciple who became a rogue cultivator when he married your mother, Cangse Sanren, a student of the immortal Baoshan Sanren.” At Wei Wuxian’s wide eyes at every word that spilled out of his mouth, Jiang Wanyin paused. “Wait. You don’t know this?”

“I—I don’t. I’ve never—I don’t know anything about my birth parents aside from their names and occupation before they passed away.”

And Wei Wuxian used to believe that he already made peace with the knowledge, or the lack thereof. He had a father and mother who birthed him to this world, and he also had two fathers he grew up loving as his true parents, the family that he recognized. But to think that someone actually knew about his birth parents that he could remember merely vague faces of.

It was… it was…

“Oi. Don’t cry!” Jiang Wanyin said urgently. His panic, Wei Wuxian found subconsciously, was kind of funny. “I’ll tell you more—just don’t cry!”

“Okay.” Wei Wuxian wiped his face hastily. “You said you heard my name before?”

Jiang Wanyin swallowed but nodded awkwardly once he was sure that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t go crying on him again. “My father looked for you,” he said, stooping down next to him. “The news of your parents' death reached him a year late. He searched everywhere, even the streets, but he couldn't find you. If he had, then he would’ve brought you home to Lotus Pier to raise you.” He shuffled on his feet. “He kept looking for you for years, and I think he gave up when he thought you died. He mourned for you and your family. He had no idea that you were somewhere far away.”

“I was in the streets,” Wei Wuxian whispered. “I remembered that much. I think your father would have found me if baba hadn’t done so first. He… came across me in the middle of a snowstorm and brought me to his home and to a-die.” He smiled. “My home.”

He would have a different life raised next to Jiang Wanyin, calling Jiang Wanyin’s father as his too, but Wei Wuxian couldn’t imagine a life where it wasn’t his a-die who spoonfed and carried him around the Four Seasons Manor that first night he woke up with them, where it wasn’t baba who took him away from the cold and brought him to the warmth and called him ‘little one’.

It warmed Wei Wuxian’s heart to discover that his birth parents had people who had cared for them, and, by extension, him. Perhaps it was a tad selfish of him to be glad that Jiang Wanyin’s father had not found him, that Wei Wuxian would willingly endure the snow and hunger if it meant having the years he would have with his fathers.

“Thank you for telling me, Jiang-xiong.”

❆❆❆

They wouldn’t call each other friends just yet, but with Jiang Wanyin’s increasingly constant presence, Wei Wuxian could probably call him an acquaintance.

Well, he had looked after far more difficult children before.

Jiang Wanyin took it as a personal offense that Wei Wuxian lacked the basic knowledge of creating simple talismans and decided to take up the mantle of a tutor; a tutor with an incredibly short fuse for patience that his student couldn’t resist goading. As recompense, he would invite himself to Jiang Wanyin’s daily drills, offering a regular training opponent that was reluctantly accepted at first until Wei Wuxian wiped the ground with him.

They never spoke again of his birth parents, though he doubted that Jiang Wanyin had more to say beyond what his father had told him. If Wei Wuxian wished to learn more, he would have to reach out to Sect Leader Jiang.

He sighed, unable to concentrate. He escaped the confines of his room to get some air. He couldn’t sleep, and he’d rather not seek the assistance of alcohol tonight. A-die had told him once that there was no comfort of reprieve in drunkenness, only an added headache in the next morning.

It was baba’s xiao that had done wonders on the random evenings he was plagued with insomnia. Baba wasn’t here now so Wei Wuxian would have to resolve this himself. Bringing the flute to his lips, out flew the notes of his favorite ballad that baba used to play for him about a ghost king who met a wanderer with three years of his life left.

Then, as if beckoned by the lulling of the music, a Jade in white descended in front of Wei Wuxian, enrapturing as always.

He smiled. “Hello, Lan Zhan.”

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 17

of the wwx emperor au that’s now more like the terrible horrible time the Lan Sect is having ugh

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16

Night has fallen by the time the rain finally stops, and WangJi is still restless.

Nie MingJue had come to inform them that the investigation has seen no new developments. There is now a number of guards posted outside the Peach Blossom Pavilion, and no food or drink is to pass through their gates without being tasted first. The Emperor is anxious that no further harm will come to the Lan Sect, Nie MingJue had said, and it is still unclear if uncle had taken any comfort in those words.

The Emperor had also decided that the competition can proceed at a normal pace the following day. The lack of news is somewhat discouraging, but WangJi is very much looking forward to the competition. The earlier fight in the courtyard had barely taken the edge off his disquiet.

Uncle had gone to sleep at the usual time, but both XiChen and WangJi are still awake, neither of them tired enough to sleep. If uncle’s room had directly overlooked the courtyard, WangJi would have suggested another sparring session, even at the cost of more mud in his hair.

He is still considering whether moving through the basic forms on his own may quiet his restlessness, when he notices a shadow on the corner of the roof. The shadow is motionless, but WangJi recognizes it between one breath and the next, his heart skipping a beat.

XiChen is reading by the candlelight, looking peaceful and content. WangJi hates to disturb him. He stands at the entry for a long time, trying to find the right words, but still does not have them when XiChen finally looks up.

“WangJi? Is something wrong?”

“The Emperor is on the roof.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The Emperor,” WangJi repeats, “Is on the roof. Of the Peach Blossom Pavilion. I think he wants to speak to me.”

XiChen’s face is utterly blank. It is rare that WangJi cannot guess what his brother is thinking, but this is one of those times.

“Is uncle asleep?” XiChen asks.

“Mhm.”

“We will tell him about this tomorrow.”

WangJi nods.

XiChen sighs,

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

By the time he leaves the pavilion, the shadow has moved. WangJi lands lightly some distance away, and sees Wei WuXian sprawled on his back where the two peeks meet, face turned up to the sky.

He straightens up when he sees WangJi, and even in the gloom, the smile on his face looks delighted.

“Lan Zhan,” he calls out softly, “come sit with me.”

Do not kneel, Jiang YanLi’s voice echoes in his mind, it will only make him unhappy.

He settles down near the Emperor, who immediately offers him a white clay jar.

“Drink?”

“Alcohol is forbidden,” WangJi says.

“Ah, is this a Lan Sect rule?”

WangJi nods. He wonders if someone like Wei WuXian would hate living with so many rules. But then again, he thinks that the Emperor’s life would probably seem very restrictive to great many people.

“Will you still compete tomorrow?” Wei WuXian asks.

“Mhm.”

“Excellent,” Wei WuXian straightens up, and shifts closer, “I am going to tell you a secret, but you must promise not to tell anyone else.”

It is tempting to agree. It is tempting to agree to anything and everything right now, when Wei WuXian’s face is so open and relaxed, his hair mussed from lying on the roof, his eyes shining.

“I cannot promise.”

Wei WuXian tilts his head. His fingers drum against the clay bottle.

“Did you get in trouble? For keeping the rooftop thing a secret the last time?”

WangJi nods, grateful that he does not have to explain it in detail.

“If you tell your brother and uncle, will they keep it a secret?”

“That depends on the secret,” WangJi says, and Wei WuXian laughs.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, did you not know? You are not supposed to deny the Emperor anything he asks for.”

WangJi refuses to be intimidated. This is surprisingly easy to accomplish. There is something soft about the expression on Wei WuXian’s face, something that WangJi had only managed to glimpse in the South Lake courtyard.

“Fine, fine,” he waves his hand in WangJi’s direction, “please tell your uncle and brother that the Emperor would very much prefer to keep this a secret. It is nothing dangerous, after all.”

WangJi is fairly certain that he and the Emperor cannot possibly have the same definition of dangerous, but he nods anyway.

“I mean to enter the competition,” Wei WuXian grins, “I will take the place a Nie Sect disciple, and A-Sang will pretend to be me.”

WangJi frowns, and Wei WuXian laughs again,

“You do not approve?”

“What if you are hurt?”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei WuXian mock-gasps, pressing his hand to his chest, “do you think so little of my skill? Did I not manage to evade you, on that very rooftop over there, while completely unarmed?”

He does have a point. They had not faced off for long that night, but Wei WuXian certainly knows how to avoid being stabbed. However, this does not necessarily mean that he is skilled with a sword.

“You must give me a proper fight, Lan Zhan. I am tired of everyone always worrying that I will get hurt.”

WangJi is conflicted. He also does not like the idea of Wei WuXian getting hurt. The idea of WangJi being the one to hurt him is even less appealing. Historically, the Lan Sect has not fared well when it came to waving swords at the rulers of Shan Dynasty. Wei WuXian seems to have forgotten that little detail, and WangJi is not sure how to remind him.

“Ugh, I can see you are still unhappy. How about this? I will take the place of the Nie Sect disciple with the lowest rank, so I must fight my way to the top tier. If I can climb up to a match with you, without being hurt, then you must promise not to hold back.”

If Wei WuXian can truly fight his way through five ranks in one competition, without being hurt, and still face WangJi at the end of it, then he will certainly make a worthy opponent. An opponent WangJi does not have to worry about injuring.

“Not a scratch,” WangJi says, and Wei WuXian barks out a laugh.

“You drive a hard bargain. Not a scratch. I swear it.”

He nods, and Wei WuXian beams at him brightly.

WangJi has to look away.

Sprawling down across the roof again, Wei WuXian sighs, turning his face up to the sky. WangJi has to admit that it feels nice, sitting on the rooftop, being able to see all of the Immortal Mountain City stretched out around him. The air is cool, carrying a faint scent of rain, and although the City is never silent, it is peaceful enough.

“Hey, Lan Zhan.”

WangJi looks down to find Wei WuXian no longer smiling.

“I am sorry someone tried to poison you today,” he says sheepishly, “To be honest, I did expect at least a few assassination attempts for my birthday, but I thought they would only be directed at me.”

It is a bizarre apology, but WangJi supposes it is no more bizarre than Wei WuXian himself.

“Do people often try to kill you?” WangJi asks.

“Oh yes,” Wei WuXian says, grinning again, “all the time. But they usually prefer the more straightforward methods. I think sword and arrow attacks vastly outnumber the attempted poisonings. Although,” he frowns, “there has been few of those too. One time, someone actually managed to stuff a dozen scorpions into my bed. I was too drunk to notice. Luckily, A-Sang saw them and raised an alarm.”

WangJi does not understand why Nie HuaiSang being anywhere near the Emperor’s bed fills him with a helpless fury. It is an illogical, and stupid way to feel, and WangJi hates that he cannot seem to reason it away.

The Emperor can share his bed with anyone he chooses. The Royal Companion will eventually bear the title of the Imperial Noble Consort. WangJi needs to breathe deeply, and relax.

“I assume you do not have very many assassination attempts at Cloud Recesses,” Wei WuXian says carefully.

WangJi shakes his head. Once in a while, some overconfident cultivator will storm their gate and demand a duel, only because they know that the Gusu Lan have so little dignity left, they cannot afford to lose any by refusing. But although those can be troublesome, they are at least straightforward in their intentions.

“You do not seem very upset that someone tried to kill you,” Wei WuXian says.

“They did not succeed.”

“They may try again.”

“Mhm.”

Wei WuXian raises up on his elbow,

“That is all you have to say? Mhm? You are not even a little angry?”

WangJi wants to explain that he does not fear death. That there are things in life infinitely worse than dying, and that he feels angry about many things, much more often than he should.

Anger is always pointless and unproductive. It has never made his burden any less, and it has never helped him feel less wronged. Once he feels anger for one injustice done to him, it is so easy to feel anger for them all. And that much anger no person can carry, and still live a peaceful life.

He does not know how to say any of those things, nor is he is sure that Wei WuXian would understand them.

“I do not want my brother and uncle to get hurt,” he says instead.

That, Wei WuXian seems to understand.

He sits up and faces WangJi, his expression hard. The shift between the cheerful, careless Wei WuXian and the Emperor is so stark, that WangJi can only blink at him in response.

“I have sworn that I mean the Lan Sect no harm. I will swear to you now, that I will do all that is in my power to protect them.”

The words seem to take up all of the air on the rooftop.

WangJi is silent for a long time, struggling to comprehend them. Why would the Emperor  make such a promise? Why would he do such a thing for WangJi, or the Lan Sect?

The implications are too vast to even consider.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” We WuXian says, focusing on some point underneath WangJi’s chin, “do not look at me like that.”

His hands seem to be nervously twisting around the jar, from which, WangJi has noticed, he had not drank once since the beginning of their conversation.

“Mhm,” WangJi manages, and looks away.

Wei WuXian laughs softly.

No longer looking at Wei WuXian, WangJi can now see the window of the pavilion, where the candle still flickers, despite the late hour. Suddenly, he is sure that XiChen will not go to sleep until WangJi is safely back inside the pavilion walls.

“I must go back,” he says.

He does not want to keep his brother up any longer, but he also wants to escape from the Emperor, whose gaze he can clearly feel burning its way across his cheek.

He rises, and Wei WuXian immediately stands up as well, as if his only purpose on the rooftop had been to speak to WangJi.

“Do not forget your promise,” Wei WuXian says.

“I will not.”

WangJi wonders if he should bow, but Wei WuXian is already leaping to the opposite roof, running to the Jade Sword Palace, robes flaring behind him.

[madtomedgar]

@venndaai asked for suxiyao for the drabbles, which are not drabbles but longer fics. this is pre relationship and an au where meng shi lives and meng yao is using his nie salary to keep her in a house in qinghe and pay for her medicine.

“Meng Gongzi,” Meng Yao startled at Lan Zongzhu’s warm and gentle voice behind him. How had he not heard someone entering the library pavillion? “I thought you said you were leaving.”

Meng Yao replaced the book he’d been scouring through as carefully and quickly as he could and turned, bowing deeply, wondering if perhaps it would be more appropriate for him to make his apology on his knees. “Please forgive this one’s error, Lan zongzhu. It was very wrong of me to trespass--”

That firm, warm grip on his forearms cut him off again as Lan zongzhu raised him out of his bow until their eyes met. Meng Yao did his best to avert his gaze, as was only appropriate, but Lan zongzhu’s kind eyes followed his until he gave up. “Meng gongzi, this one is happy to have your company for a while longer. You are most welcome to look through our texts. Was there something in particular you were hoping to find?” Words failed Meng Yao as shame and embarrassment crawled around in his throat. He knew what should happen to a servant from another sect caught snooping around the esteemed and sacred texts. He knew what his own sect leader would do. He knew he shouldn’t have risked his position like this, just for... “This is a medical text, written by my great-great grandfather,” said Lan zongzhu, who had picked up the book Meng Yao had been caught with. “Is Meng gongzi interested in studying medicine?”

Why was he dragging this out? Why couldn’t he just reprimand Meng Yao and send him packing with a letter to Nie zongzhu detailing his reprehensible conduct, so he could slink home and take his punishment? Did he find it amusing, as the Nie cultivators did, to torment him? But everything about Lan zongzhu that he’d seen so far pointed in the opposite direction. He was foolish, foolish to trust in any of it, but “Forgive this one his trespass, but he has heard much of the skill and prowess of the healers of the Lan clan of Gusu. He was hoping to find a treatment for wasting illness, and did not wish to trouble Lan zongzhu or any of his cultivators with this one’s insignificant problems.”

Lan zongzhu looked at him with what appeared to be genuine concern and reached for his wrist. “Are you ill, Meng gongzi?”

“No, no, not me,” Meng Yao stammered, pulling his hand away and clasping it in front of him. “My mother.” 

He shouldn’t have dirtied such a pristine place with even the mention of her, but before he could say anything else, Lan zongzhu stepped in again, smiling. “She is fortunate to have such a filial son. Can you tell me the nature of her illness?”

Meng Yao wanted to gape, but he was far, far better than that, and so he didn’t. “This one thanks Lan zongzhu for his attention to such insignificant matters. Her lungs have been failing her for some time. She has medicine, but it doesn’t seem to do much. I had hoped to find some... cure or treatment that the common doctors in Qinghe don’t know of.”

Lan zongzhu considered for a moment. “A wasting of the lungs... and your mother is not a cultivator?” Meng Yao nodded, bemused. Surely Lan zongzhu knew. Everyone knew. They’d gossiped about her this morning in his very presence! “Do not give credence to rumor” was one of the Lan rules, but surely nobody followed it that closely. “It would be best if someone trained in our techniques could examine her. Training you would take time, and I wouldn’t want to keep you from your duties. I’ll send one of our disciples back with you.”

Meng Yao was overcome, and bowed again, only to be caught again. He couldn’t afford to dwell on what being touched so gently like that, by the First Jade of Gusu Lan, sparked inside him. This wasn’t one of his young master’s dirty books. Those sorts of things never happened in life and, if they did, they never ended well. “This one thanks you, but could not possibly afford it.” Whatever the Lan sect charged for healing commoners, it had to be expensive. And add to that that this commoner was a prostitute and all the way in Qinghe...

There was a gentle tug at his arms, indicating that he should look at this man who insisted they were peers beyond all reason. He did. He wished he hadn’t. Lan zongzhu was smiling, radiant, like sunlight on a stream. “Meng gongzi, it would please me for you to consider this a favor from a friend. Or, at the very least, consider that Nie zongzhu is and I are old friends, and it is my pleasure to help his valued right hand as I am able.” Now, Meng Yao did gape. “Besides,” said Lan zongzhu, and Meng Yao must be hallucinating the conspiratorial air that snuck over him, “I think some time in the company of such a well spoken and poised person will do the particular disciple I’m thinking of much good.”

Well. Far be it from Meng Yao to tell Lan zongzhu how to dispose of his disciples. 

--

Su Minshan, the disciple Lan zongzhu sent to accompany Meng Yao back to Qinghe, did not inspire confidence. Of course, Meng Yao hadn’t expected the Lan sect to send their best and brightest to heal an aging prostitute in another sect’s territory, but still. This man isn’t much older than he is, and so far on their journey he’s been moody, anxious, and sullen. It is clear he thinks this errand beneath him. The fact that he’s right about that just galls Meng Yao more. 

“All that work and they still treat me like a messenger boy,” Su Minshan mutters out the window of the carriage they share. He, of course, would have preferred to go by sword, but there are goods to bring back, and Meng Yao’s skill at riding the sword is still lacking. 

This, at least, Meng Yao can understand. He’d felt similarly when Nie zongzhu had given him the task of escorting the young master to the Cloud Recesses. “When Nie zongzhu sends me on similar errands for him, I have found it is a sign not that he values me less, but that the errand in question is important to him, and that to be trusted with it is a great honor.”

Su Minshan shakes his head. He has a pleasant face, but, unfortunately, bitterness does not become it. “I’m sure that’s true for you. I’ve been trying to get Lan zongzhu to give me a chance, I’ve worked so hard, and for all that he still just sees me as a courier. Because I’m not a Lan. You really think they’d trust some farm boy with this task if it was so important?”

Meng Yao could ask him if he thinks that Nie zongzhu would trust a whore’s son with something as important as conveying his wayward brother safely and handling inter-clan relations, but that wouldn’t help, and wouldn’t be half as satisfying in actuality as it is in imagination. He is no stranger to bruised egos and to feeling like one’s hard work is taken for granted. Looking sympathetic is not difficult. “Su gongzi, it is the greatest satisfaction to have the appreciation of one’s sect leader. I am no one important, and so my appreciation won’t matter. But for what little it is worth, you have it in abundance for coming all this way to help my mother.”

This seemed to have done nothing but make Su Minshan aware that he’d been being quite rude. “It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug. “Wasting of the lungs in a commoner... a little medicine, a little playing, any junior disciple could manage it.”

“Playing? Like what Lan zongzhu did at the gift ceremony?” Meng Yao had never heard of music being used in healing. Or in cultivation really, for that matter. The concept fascinated him.

“Sort of,” said Su Minshan, brightening a little despite himself. “Except I use a guqin, not a xiao, and my spiritual tool isn’t very impressive. And I’m not as good as the Jades. Or the senior disciples.”

“I’m sure you’re better than me,” said Meng Yao. “The skill of the musicians of Gusu is renowned, even in Qinghe. Unfortunately, Nie zongzhu doesn’t appreciate music, so I have little opportunity to play myself.”

“You play qin?” asked Su Minshan.

Meng Yao nodded. “My mother taught me. She also taught me to read and write. She was one of the best players in Yunmeng, before she got sick. She doesn’t play much anymore.”

“I had to teach my mother how to read, so I could send her letters from the Cloud Recesses.”

“I’m sure she’s very proud to have such a learned son.” If she was anything like Meng Yao’s mother she was obnoxiously proud. Suffocatingly proud. Embarrassingly proud. Never stopped telling anyone who would listen about everything he did and everything he was going to do proud. Meng Yao hoped that Su Minshan’s mother was something like his own. If only because it might endear her to him, make him do a better job. Not because that would mean that this sad boy had someone in his life who saw his accomplishments and not just his failings. Meng Yao certainly didn’t care about that.

Su Minshan went back to looking out the window of the carriage, and Meng Yao went back to studying the cultivation manual he’d bought in Gusu. He was interrupted some time later by Su Minshan blurting “Maybe I can teach you the healing song. When we stop for tonight. If you want. Since you know how to play.”

Meng Yao did not gape, because he was better than that. He also didn’t sputter out any of the reasons they shouldn’t tearing through his mind. He didn’t have his instrument with him; surely it was an insult for him to handle this cultivator’s spiritual tool; surely it was a breach for Su Minshan to teach him, a guest of the Nie, a proprietary technique of the Lan sect; surely musical cultivation, like what he’d seen Lan zongzhu do at the gift ceremony, was far beyond his paltry skill and weak core. Instead, he beamed at the other man. “I would like that very much, Su Minshan.”

[lotusjwy]

“You can trust me” for our boys Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen? 👀

ooooh boy, carrie u just know me. i wrote this so easily, idk WHY that was so easy to write honestly. 

enjoy around 2k words of xicheng being mean to each other bro, i needa go make them kiss or smth this hurt 

It wasn’t a very common occurrence, but ever since the events at Guanyin Temple, Lan Xichen would sometimes have days, where most people around would know to give him a wide berth, lest he spit poisonous words at them. These days were unlike the days where he had no desire to exist in the world. Instead, on these days he was infinitely angry at the world. There was never any rhyme or reason to the days – at least, no pattern that he had been able to recognise that would trigger or prompt him to get in these moods. And no one would be safe from the words he spoke, regardless of who they were to him. 

Lan Wangji had learnt first-hand to leave his brother alone when he was in these moods, when Xichen had called him a disgrace to the Lan Sect ways due to his devotion to Wei Wuxian. That Wei Wuxian was a menace to their society and that perhaps they would have benefitted had he met the same fate as his parents. After the fact, Xichen had profusely apologies, explaining that he that he didn’t know why he had said what he had said and that he didn’t mean them. And while Lan Wangji had accepted his apology, their relationship had been strained for a long while after that. In order to protect their brotherhood, both would avoid each other on these days.

However, it would seem that Lan Wangji hadn’t passed this message along to Jiang Wanyin, who was currently pounding on the entrance to the Hanshi, which Lan Xichen had been refusing to open for the past ten minutes. He knew that if he let the other in, that it may come to blows with Lan Xichen’s foul mood and Jiang Wanyin’s general angry disposition. After another few minutes of having to listen to Jiang Wanyin yelling his name, Lan Xichen slammed the doors open, his face displaying the annoyance that he was feeling at the situation.

“You would think, Sect Leader Jiang, that after a few minutes of not receiving a response, you would get the message that I do not wish to speak with you.” His voice was cold and icy, not leaving any room for argument.

Or so he thought, were he not speaking with Jiang Wanyin. Jiang Wanyin who looked confrontation in the face and barrelled right through. 

“You don’t want to talk to me?” Jiang Cheng’s voice was full of disbelief that the other was acting this way, so early in the morning. He’d never seen Lan Xichen acting like this.

“I want you to leave.” Lan Xichen could feel his patience growing thin, if the other didn’t leave right now, then he didn’t know what would come from the following interaction.

“Well, too bad. Since when have I ever left you alone when you’re in a bad mood? Talk to me about it, perhaps that will help you navigate back to being yourself.” With those seemingly simple words, Jiang Wanyin further entered the Hanshi and sat down in front of Lan Xichen.

“There is nothing I wish to speak about with you, at this moment. Leave.” He took a calming breath, willing himself to not lose himself.

“You can trust me, Lan Xichen.” Jiang Wanyin’s voice was earnest and full of understanding, he was being exactly the type of friend Lan Xichen would crave any other day. But not today, today he is angry at the world, and is willing to fight with anyone, and so that’s just what he does.

“I thought I could trust Jin Guangyao. Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang thought they could trust me. Yet all forms of this trust were broken within a few tragic moments.” His voice was hard, not like the usual calming voice that Jiang Wanyin had grown used to over these months. “You’ll find I’m unable to readily believe your words.”

It had been months into their growing friendship – relationship maybe – yet Jiang Cheng had never realised that Lan Xichen still struggled with trust. “And I fucking thought I could trust Wei Wuxian, yet you don’t see me shutting myself off from the fucking world over it.”

“No, you just tortured people out of spite, out of hatred towards your brother. They were innocent people you tortured, yet you did it anyway. Perhaps the world would have benefited from shutting yourself off from the world. More people would be alive.” Internally, Lan Xichen hated himself for even uttering those words, knowing this was something that haunted Jiang Wanyin even after all these years.  

Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes at the other, not understanding why the other was verbally attacking him like this. “Every person I killed was a demonic cultivator, you don’t believe they deserved it?”

“Perhaps demonic cultivation is the wrong path to take, however you didn’t offer rehabilitation for them? Surely, you had other avenues to help that didn’t result to torture. No, instead you had to let your anger take charge as usual.” His voice turning to morbid fascination as he continued to speak, he could see Jiang Wanyin slowly grow more and more angry as he continued to speak his poisons.

Oh. So, he wanted to play that game? Unluckily for Lan Xichen, Jiang Wanyin had been waiting for someone to bring this up with him, thought admittedly he never expected someone he thought was his friend to bring it up.

“Do you know how many demonic cultivators I came across that were previously of the Lan Sect, Sect Leader Lan? It would seem your sect doesn’t offer its’ own members the rehabilitation that you’re so bravely offering right now.”

“You’re lying.” Xichen narrowed his eyes at Jiang Wanyin, not believing his words for a second. He’d have noticed if his disciples were following such paths, he’d have known.

“I’m in Cloud Recesses, esteemed Zewu-jun. Lies aren’t allowed here.” With a smirk, he continued speaking, a smug lilt to his voice, “I can even show you the pile of forehead ribbons that came with each of the cultivators. I have a collection, if you would like to call it that, of little mementos that link each demonic cultivator to a sect.”

“Why would you keep them? Rumour has it you burnt the bodies where they lay.” He was determined to not let the other win this argument.

“And create damage to the sect that I so painfully built back up? No, my disciples disposed of the bodies. You’re not wrong, they were burnt, just not in Lotus Pier. Lotus Pier has seen enough flames to last an eternity.” And Jiang Cheng was never present for any of the burnings. He’d witnessed too much burning flesh in his lifetime, he never wants to see or smell that ever again.

“You’ve not yet explained why you would keep articles from the bodies.” He tried to keep his voice steady and absent from any of the anger that was rushing through his veins. He’d never wanted to yell at another so desperately before.

“To remind myself that while the once first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang created demonic cultivation, that I never once came across another demonic cultivator from within my own sect.” It was an odd pride he’d always felt. A secret pride that he’d never spoken about to anyone before now. “There were countless from the Nie, Jin and Lan sects, yet none from my own. Fascinating isn’t it? That somehow the sect where demonic cultivation was founded never produced another known demonic cultivator.”

“Isn’t that because they saw first-hand what you did to demonic cultivators?” Forcing his voice to sound calm and uninterested, Lan Xichen was determined to make Jiang Wanyin feel as bad as he was making Lan Xichen feel with his words.

Jiang Cheng let out a snort, “partially, I won’t deny that. However, I believe they saw what it could to do those around them. How negatively it could impact on everyone, including themselves. The issue all you fucking hypocrites have is that you just tell your disciples that demonic cultivation is bad, and they should never pursue it, or you will punish them.”

“And what? You believe you have the upper ground here?”

“Gods no. I’ll never claim to have an upper ground, we lived through a war, we were all bound to fuck up in some way or another. But I tell my disciples in explicit detail what demonic cultivation can do to families. I remind them of Jin Ling who grew up without parents due to the inability to control demonic cultivation. Because if a genius like Wei Wuxian couldn’t fucking control it, then what luck did a lowly disciple have?”

And that was something Jiang Cheng had spent years working through himself. The knowledge the Wei Wuxian didn’t mean for everything to go as badly as it did. That he had just lost control of the situation and it had grown and grown until the unthinkable had happened, and Jin Guangyao took explicit control of the situation. It was still something he had to talk himself through, on his bad days. But he would not have Lan Xichen attempt to make him feel bad about the things that he has been through, no matter who they are to each other.

Looking away from Jiang Wanyin, Lan Xichen grit his teeth and spoke tersely, “I see.”

“That’s all you have to say?” He couldn’t believe the other was acting like this. Xichen had spat venom yet seemed to be retreating the second Jiang Cheng fought back. Coward.

“I don’t know what else you want from me.” He let out a heavy sigh, and turned back to Jiang Wanyin, his eyebrows raised, as if asking why the other was still here.

Jiang Cheng laughed frostily, voice full of hurt and regret, “I had thought that the two of us had an understanding after all these months. It would seem that I was wrong to think you would ever trust someone as vile as me.”

“No one asked for you to attach yourself to me.” He almost winced, as he said it, knowing that they were about to cross dangerous territories in this conversation. Perhaps with irreversible consequences.

“Attach myself? Lan Xichen, need I remind you who fucking approached who first, or have you coincidentally lost all memory of that moment?” Lan Xichen. That was the answer. Lan fucking Xichen had approached Jiang Cheng with hopes of friendship first, right out of his seclusion, so why the fuck was he acting so haughty now?

“I approached you out of desperation on my part. I wished to forget A-Yao’s existence, and so I approached you. You who is so very clearly unlike him. It meant nothing more to me and has seemed to have run its course.” I’m sorry, I don’t mean it, he wanted to be able to say, but his mood didn’t allow him to, his words leaving his mouth faster than he could shove them back in and never have the time to utter them.

“Of course, I’m the fool in this situation. Why would the great Lan Xichen approach lowly Jiang Wanyin for friendship or anything more? It would seem you were correct, my trust in you was misplaced, I will endeavour to rectify that mistake of mine. Thank you for the honourable life lesson, esteemed Sect Leader.” With a final, stilted and angry bow, Jiang Cheng turned around and left the room, muttering under his breath about ungrateful people.

As Jiang Cheng stormed out, Lan Xichen closed his eyes in defeat. Ah, Lan Huan, you’ve finally done it. You’ve finally pushed away everyone that genuinely gave you care. Jiang Cheng wasn’t like Wangji, who had forgiven his words without a second of hesitation, no Jiang Cheng would remember each word that had been uttered in this room. Once scorned, Jiang Cheng wouldn’t return without a genuine apology, an apology that Lan Xichen wasn’t sure he was ready to give the other. Not without thinking more deeply about what kind of a relationship he wanted with the other.

[needtherapy]

How It Begins: Mingjue Falls

A short story for Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen, in which Lan Xichen gets drunk and causes trouble. Of course.

This is Part 1. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Please note: Parts 2 and 3 are explicit.

Read more Kristina Writes Tiny Stories

They met in Yunmeng on a summer day when Nie Mingjue was 17.

He had hated Lotus Pier immediately. It was hot and there was so much...sun. It was everywhere. The moment he had gotten off the boat, he had felt sweat trickle down his back, and there was an irritating buzzing all around him. He glared in the general direction of the lotus flowers, where the noise seemed to be coming from.

“They’re frogs,” came a voice from behind him, almost like a sudden cool breeze.

Mingjue turned and regarded the speaker. Mingjue thought at first he must be a local boy, but then he took in the elaborate guan, the elegant forehead ribbon, and the stunningly beautiful sword and realized that this must be the Lan heir. What was his name again? Mingjue realized he had been staring for an impermissibly rude amount of time when the boy raised his eyebrows and smiled, the slight curve of his mouth transforming his face from serenity to mischief.

Finally remembering his manners, Mingjue bowed. “Lan-gongzi? It is a pleasure to meet you. How do I make the frogs stop?”

The musical laugh drowned out the monotonous humming for a moment. “Unfortunately, I do not think it is in the nature of frogs to be silent. I am Lan Huan, but I prefer Xichen. I think it is very likely that we will get to know each other better this summer, Nie-gongzi.”

What else could Mingjue do? “Please call me Mingjue,” he responded automatically, and was rewarded with an even wider smile and a tip of the head that clearly beckoned Mingjue to follow Lan Xichen down the dock to Lotus Pier.

It was an unusual feeling to have a friend. Qinghe Nie was not a place for friends, it was a place to cultivate the saber and prepare for war (or in his brother’s case, collect fans and avoid sword practice). It was a place to learn strategy and tactics (or in his brother’s case, write poetry and practice painting). Any acquaintances he has ever had have all had one focus: preserving the strength and discipline of Qinghe Nie. For those who wielded the saber, it was a matter of life or death.

Lan Xichen was different in so many ways. Oh, he was fierce in battle, to Mingjue’s immense surprise. Truly, it was sometimes all Mingjue could do to hold his own, much less win during sparring. But he was also a welcome quiet space in this loud and boisterous sect. He played the guqin for Mingjue, music that made meditation easier and deeper. Sometimes he invented songs to fit the sound of rain on the roof or make the infernal frogs less demanding. And he teased Mingjue, subtly mocked his temper, joked about his never-ending frustration with the carefree Yunmeng Jiang training in a way that did not remind him of his little brother, the only other person who has ever dared to make fun of Mingjue. By the end of summer, Mingjue was looking forward to going home less than he had been the day he arrived. The night before he was scheduled to leave, he found himself laying on his bed in a dark mood. He missed Bujing Shi and Huaisang, but he was not actually looking forward to resuming his responsibilities at home. He wondered if he would ever see the people he’d met here again. 

There was a gentle knock on his door and reluctantly, he got up to open it. Lan Xichen was standing on the other side, a smile Mingjue hadn’t seen before on his face. 

“Nie Mingjue, it is our last night in Lotus Pier, and I have brought you a gift,” he whispered, looking around conspiratorially.

He looked almost devious, and Mingjue was immediately intrigued, because devious was not an expression that sat well on Lan Xichen’s face. And then he laughed, despite his earlier mood, when Lan Xichen extricated two bottles of wine from his sleeve. Not once had he ever seen Lan Xichen drink. Although he did occasionally go with groups of cultivators to taverns in town, he always politely refused proffered drinks.

And so Mingjue invited him in. Lan Xichen settled down gracefully at the table, waiting for Mingjue to join him before he poured two cups. Mingjue noted that Lan Xichen’s hand shook slightly as he handed him the cup, and wondered if Lan Xichen was feeling ill or if it was something else, but he didn’t know what else it could possibly be.

“To unexpected friendship and new adventures to come,” Lan Xichen said, lifting his cup, voice low, even more than usual.

It was a good toast, Mingjue thought, and drained his cup in a single gulp, savoring the sharp burn and slightly floral taste. When he looked back, though, Lan Xichen was still holding his cup to his lips, an unreadable expression on his face. When he saw Mingjue watching him, he smiled, a tense, tremulous smile, and drank. For a second, his face went slack. And then he promptly fell over backward.

Mingjue leaped up, terrified in an instant. He had killed the Lan heir. Well, HE hadn’t killed the Lan heir, but no one would believe that. He ran to Lan Xichen’s side and held a hand over his nose. To his enormous relief, he felt warm breath on his hand, sending tingles up his spine. He snatched his fingers away and debated what to do next. But Lan Xichen made the decision for him.

With a nearly audible snap, his eyes flew open and he jumped up. Without any warning, he grabbed Mingjue’s hand and dragged him out the door, through Sword Hall, and into town. It happened so fast, Mingjue didn’t have time to resist, or so he told himself.

Lan Xichen dragged him to the shore of a pond to throw rocks, skipping them across the top of the water with a flick of his wrist. He tried to teach Mingjue, but he was too drunk or Mingjue was too clumsy, and he finally gave up, stomping away with his hands thrown up in frustration. Then he grabbed a handful of peanuts from a vendor in town without stopping to pay, so Mingjue made their apologies and handed the woman a handful of coins, running after Lan Xichen, who was a remarkably quick drunk. When he caught up, he noticed Lan Xichen was holding a lantern he definitely had not been carrying moments earlier. Mingjue looked around in confusion, but no one was yelling, so he just shrugged and let Lan Xichen have it. And so on and so on. Mingjue had no idea how one person could cause so much trouble in such a short amount of time, but it was the most fun Mingjue had ever had, although to be fair, fun wasn’t something he had ever focused on.

Along the way, he talked. Gods, he talked. He told Mingjue about Cloud Recesses, describing the willow trees and the migrating cranes and the cold waterfall in excruciating detail. He talked about his brother and how worried he was that Lan Wangji was already so uptight, even at such a young age. He talked about his father and his mother and his uncle, and by the time they had circled back to Lotus Pier, Mingjue felt he knew more about the Gusu Lan sect than he did his own.

At the gates to Lotus Pier, Lan Xichen swayed, but shook off Mingjue’s steadying hand. He took two steps and pitched forward, so Mingjue had to catch him. Either the alcohol was wearing off or his mad flight through the streets had finally worn him out.

“Lan Xichen, how can you still be so drunk?” Mingjue laughed as his friend tripped again, falling against him in a surprisingly solid thump. 

“I don’t drink,” Lan Xichen explained ponderously, each word heavy and precise.

“I can see why,” Mingjue muttered, as he draped Lan Xichen’s arm over his neck and tried to guide him down the hall back to his own room in a fairly straight line.

An eternity later, with no help from Lan Xichen, who tried to touch every hanging, every vase, every decorative carving as they staggered down the hall, he finally deposited his unruly cargo on the floor. Hands on his hips, Mingjue stared down at Lan Xichen, who looked up at him blankly with huge dark eyes and the barest hint of a giddy smile appearing. His hair was mussed, tendrils of it falling around his face, and Mingjue’s stomach flopped alarmingly. Maybe he was drunk too.

“You need to drink some water,” he told Lan Xichen firmly, but Lan Xichen merely rolled on his back and gazed at the ceiling in wonder.

“Bring me water,” Lan Xichen commanded a second later, waving his arm in the direction of the pitcher stand.

Mingjue couldn’t hide a smile at the unfamiliar imperious tone in Lan Xichen’s voice. He’d never met anyone less imperious, especially considering he would be zongzhu someday.

With a sigh, he poured a cup of water and then, on consideration, poured two. It was going to take more than one cup of water to make Lan Xichen anything near sober. Sitting cross-legged next to Lan Xichen, he held out the cup of water and sighed again as Lan Xichen tried to drink it laying on the floor, a few drops spilling onto his face before Mingjue could take it away from him.

Gently, Mingjue slid his arm under Lan Xichen and lifted his shoulders so he was sitting up, handing him the cup again. Obediently, Lan Xichen drank the water and then peered at Mingjue as though he’d never seen him before. With a slight shift, he moved further into the cradle of Mingjue’s arm and reached out his hand to take one of Mingjue’s braids between his fingers, rubbing his thumb against it.

“Your hair is so soft.” Lan Xichen’s words were a little slurred, but his voice sounded more intrigued than anything. He pulled the braid to his nose and sniffed. “It smells like pine. You always smell like pine.”

Mingjue knew he should move, should definitely let go of Lan Xichen, even if he fell over again, but he felt anchored to the spot by the weight of Lan Xichen’s curious inspection. He made the mistake of looking into Lan Xichen’s eyes and froze.

“Mingjue, I am going to kiss you,” Lan Xichen murmured, and before Mingjue could stop him, he had pressed his lips to Mingjue’s. It was a light touch of soft skin, no more than the tickle of a butterfly on his finger or the heat of a candle flame, but it was enough. 

The world ended and was reborn.

Xichen was still kissing him.

And nothing would ever be the same again.

(pretty Qinghe Nie and Gusu Lan motifs from the donghua and insp. from @azureblue-bunnykisses​)

[isabilightwood]

The Problem with Authority - Chapter 4

Or, Sacrifice Summon! Jiang Yanli is here to make things right, be the ultimate big sister (step 1: bring back her dead brother), and maybe steal the Peacock throne in the process

[AO3][1][2][3]

“A -Su ! I’m so sorry!” Lan Xichen grasped her hands to pull her to her feet. “I wanted to give you a gift, not a bump on the head.”

He was flushed, his eyes bright and manic, his forehead ribbon dangling around his neck. His soft gray geometric patterned outer robe was hanging off one shoulder, revealing the pale blue inner robe beneath. Jiang Yanli felt strangely like she should offer to give him his privacy.

Though they were outside. In the courtyard of her house.

Jiang Yanli felt entirely uninjured, but perhaps she had hit her head after all, and was merely hallucinating the impossibility of a discomposed and rumpled Lan Xichen. “Lan-zongzhu…?”

“Erge, wait!” Jin Guangyao sprinted towards them from the direction of the guest rooms. He stumbled to a halt, doubled over and panting. “You shouldn’t talk to anyone while you’re drunk, remember? Let’s not repeat the Moling incident. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He grabbed Lan Xichen’s wrist and tugged, but the taller man didn’t budge.

“But I haven’t given A-Su her thank you gift yet.” Lan Xichen looked around, wide eyed and innocent. “Where did the rabbits go?”

Jin Guangyao sighed loudly. “We don’t have rabbits here, Erge. This is Lanling, not the Cloud Recesses.”

“But rabbits are the best gift. Wangji and A-Yuan both think so.” Lan Xichen pouted for a moment, then perked up. “Someone must have rabbits in town.”

Jin Guangyao’s face convulsed.

Lan Xichen nodded decisively. Dropping his sword so it hovered in the air, he tried to climb onto it. Combined with the alcohol, Jin Guangyao pulling on his sleeve was enough to unbalance him, so he fell backwards into his lover’s chest. Jin Guangyao stumbled backwards, but managed to hold him up.

Lan Xichen hummed, tugging on his arms to pull him closer. He seemed to have entirely forgotten his goal, content to remain where he was.

Stymied in his efforts to steal his lover away with minimum embarrassment, Jin Guangyao turned his head towards her. “Erge overindulged by mistake, my apologies. I will get him to his rooms — my rooms, I suppose, shortly.”

“None needed. I was merely startled.” Startled, yes, but also having the time of her life. Doubly so, considering the incoherent gibberish of Qin Su’s thoughts.

“Erge, it’s nearly midnight. You wouldn’t want your uncle to know you stayed up past nine, would you?”

“But Shufu is in the Cloud Recesses. He doesn’t like crowds.” Lan Xichen said as though revealing a great secret. “Wangji is somewhere in Qishan. He doesn’t like crowds either.”

“I could always write him a letter. ‘Lan-Xiansheng, I am sorry to inform you that Lan-zongzhu has taken liberties with the disciplines. Please have him copy the rules with the novices for the next month.’”

“A-Yao, you wouldn’t.” Lan Xichen let his head loll back against Jin Guangyao’s shoulder - somehow without tipping the shorter man over — and stuck out his bottom lip.

“I wouldn’t.” Jin Guangyao confirmed, his expression turning ridiculously sappy. “Please come back with me anyway?”

“But I haven’t thanked A-Su properly yet!” Lan Xichen grasped her hands and squeezed tightly, earnestly shaking them up and down. “Thank you, A-Su! I will take good care of our A-Yao.”

She doubted Lan Xichen would ever have mentioned it, if he wasn’t drunk.

“My deepest apologies for this.” Jin Guangyao grimaced, his cheeks flushed pink. He turned to face Lan Xichen, cupping the back of his neck and stroking the front of his throat with his thumb. “I’ve arranged to have dessert delivered to my room. I’ll feed it to you, if you’re good.”

Lan Xichen perked up, dropping her hands and —thankfully — dragged him away before she and Qin Su could be subjected to anymore unwanted details of their relationship.

As they vanished from sight, headed for a discrete side entrance to Jin Guangyao’s room, Jiang Yanli felt a twinge of guilt. Lan Xichen did not deserve to be shackled to a man who had killed his own son.

But she did not feel as much guilt as she would have liked to.

Because she had told Lan Xichen the truth, and he had chosen to do nothing.

Jiang Yanli had gone to him after she learned what she’d slept through in the aftermath of A-Xian’s defection, after Luo Qingyang left the sect and Lan Wangji slipped away unnoticed. After A-Cheng left for the Burial Mounds without her. “A-Xian did not do this unprovoked. The Wen siblings saved our lives, at great risk to their own.”

He smiled in appeasement. “Be that as it may, he killed the guards, and took away all the prisoners. You must understand what this looks like.”

Jiang Yanli’s patience had been hanging by a thread, and the patronizing you must understand snapped it. “I remember starving, terrified, dirty prisoners dressed in rags being used as target practice.” She laughed, a short, crazed thing too like A-Xian’s. “Oh, but you prefer to forget things that might upset your precious peace. Even if it dooms innocents, or breaks your brother’s heart.”

Lan Xichen stared at her, and Jiang Yanli remembered she was supposed to be the level-headed, soft-spoken one. No matter how little she felt it. “My apologies, that was uncalled for. It is simply that my brother cannot do anything, without your support.

But Lan Xichen only shook his head regretfully. “Both my sworn brothers have sworn to me that only dangerous prisoners were confined to the camp. I’m sorry, Jiang-guniang, but I cannot.”

Lan Xichen had not believed her. And perhaps he had doomed A-Xian. Perhaps it would have changed nothing. But for what she had done — was doing — to Lan Xichen, she clung to her rationalizations.

What just happened? Qin Su asked.

We just experienced the reason why Lans are forbidden to drink. Strange that Lan Xichen would get drunk like that, though. Thanks to A-Xian, she knew the Lan’s rule about alcohol was really because of the main clan’s low tolerance, but —

But I’ve seen him drink before. Qin Su’s confusion was like bubbles popping on surface of her mind.

Jiang Yanli had too. A-Xian once mentioned a trick Zewu-jun used to burn it off, while he was deep in his cups and reminiscing longingly about how cute Lan Wangji looked when drunkenly attempting to straighten his crooked forehead ribbon. Had Nie Huaisang switched their cups by mistake? A prank, perhaps?

Where was Nie Huaisang?

Jiang Yanli pushed open the door to the Fragrance Hall and froze.

That answers that question.

Nie Huaisang swore as a device he was holding up to the mirrored portal to the treasure room rebounded towards his face, using both his hands to force it back to the surface. There was a focused intensity to his expression that Jiang Yanli had never seen before, a far sight from the whining puddle who’d dragged the Chief Cultivator from his own banquet.

But then, she’d never paid him much attention. No one had, save perhaps A-Xian. “Nie-zongzhu. Is there something you need from the treasury?”

Nie Huaisang startled, glaring with a focused intensity that vanished so quickly she might have imagined it, as he threw himself back from the portal. He sprawled inelegantly on the ground, covering half his face with his fan. “Is that what it is? A treasury? I really didn’t know.”

Is it just me or is that bullshit? Qin Su did the mental equivalent of narrowing her eyes.

Jiang Yanli shut the door behind her. “So you didn’t just hide a talisman-engraved device you were using to inspect the wards up your sleeve?”

If Nie Huaisang is competent, I think we can safely say everything I thought was wrong. What will we discover next? Does my  father remember my birthday? Has Yao-zongzhu been possessed by a gossip-loving spirit for years?

“I was just curious, I don’t know!”

She supposed he’d never bothered to come up with another line because this one had worked for his entire life. “Let me satisfy your curiosity then.”

He gave an exaggerated wail as she grabbed his wrist. But whatever else Nie Huaisang might be, he was not strong. Jiang Yanli was able to easily pull him through the portal. He stumbled against her, and, as she reached to steady him, bit her hand.

“Ow! What was that for? Are you a dog?” She demanded, wiping off her knuckles on her outer robe.

“You made unfounded accusations and dragged me in here!” He slumped inward, making himself look smaller. “I don’t know why! I felt unsafe.”

Sure he did. “You wanted to see inside. Now you’re inside. Take the chance or leave it.”

He took it. “Well, if you insist. There is some interesting art in here. Is this where the paintings of the Crimson Swan ended up? Tragic. I could help display them properly, if San-ge gave me half a chance. But no, it’s too soon. Half the sects would throw a fit, and Lan-xiansheng would kidnap me for remedial schooling. I can’t go back to the Cloud Recesses! I simply can’t!”

Qin Su snorted. At least some things stay the same. He’s still annoying.

Jiang Yanli watched Nie Huaisang dart around the room, peering at items on shelves and lifting curtains in what seemed to be no particular order, keeping up his narration all the while. “You know, the Wen really had some gems in their collection. This poetry collection is priceless, and yet here it is, tragically gathering dust — Oh, dear.”

His arm knocked into an ornate vase that had been placed too close to the edge of a display.

Jiang Yanli plucked a talisman from her sleeve and threw it, so it hit the vase, freezing it in place tipped halfway off the shelf.

Nie Huaisang turned, squinting at her with an air of smug satisfaction. “You’re not Qin Su.”

Nie Huaisang of all people notices? That’s it, good night. Wake me when things make sense again. Despite her words, Qin Su remained alert and attentive.

Jiang Yanli tamped down on the urge to throw another talisman, this time at him. “That’s quite the accusation.”

“Qin Su would have reached for her sword when I knocked over that vase. You stopped it from falling with a talisman. Also, she never calls me Nie-zongzhu.” He perched on a vase-free table, his hands folded perfectly, but one leg bounced to the rhythm of his thoughts. “The question is, are you possessing her, or are you using one of Xue Yang’s human skin masks?”

“Neither.” She held up Qin Su’s sword, and drew it. “Do you deny that this is Chunsheng?”

“So that is Qin Su’s body, but you say it’s not a possession. Hmm. Did Wei-xiong find a way to permanently inhabit a living body?” Nie Huaisang jumped disturbingly close to the truth with his second guess.  “Are you Wei-xiong? But no, Wei-xiong wouldn’t have chosen a nice woman like Qin Su.”

Aww. He thinks I’m nice. So long as he’s just a sneak, I forgive him for the deception.

“I’m definitely not A-Xian.” Jiang Yanli realized her mistake even as it slipped out. She clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes widening.

“Jiang Yanli!” He cried, delighted. “Oh, I have to know how this happened.”

“I don’t know what —”

“No, don’t protest. You’ve been caught. But don’t worry. I’m certainly not going to tell anyone in Koi Tower about you. What would be the use of that?” Nie Huaisang was positively gleeful, and she didn’t trust him for a second.

Qin Su didn’t disagree, but sighed. Unfortunately, I think you’d better tell him.

“Take a seat.” She hung up a talisman to alert her if anyone approached the portal, and checked under every curtain, just in case. Once she was certain the room was secure, she knelt across from him. “You were correct that it was A-Xian’s work that made this possible, but it was not his doing.”

“Obviously, it was Wei-xiong’s invention. His most powerful imitator is Xue Yang, and he has the creativity of a sea slug.” Nie Huaisang sank gracefully to his knees, balancing his fan across them. Seeing him now, a stranger would never guess his reputation. “Now, who is this mysterious benefactor? Do tell.”

She briefly detailed the mechanics of the array. From his performance in the Cloud Recesses, she would not have expected him to understand it, but he nodded along without interrupting. “Qin Su found the wrong journal at exactly the wrong moment. Now I’m in her body, and she lives in my head.”

Was it the wrong moment? Qin Su wondered, and digressed before Jiang Yanli could contradict her. Insult his fan for me, that’s sloppy work. His mountains still look like Jin Guangyao’s hat.

Dutifully, Jiang Yanli repeated her words.

He gave a startled laugh. “Ah, Qin Su has long been my worst critic. Sadly, this revenge business leaves little time for developing my painting skills.”

“Revenge? Does this have anything to do with why you were trying to break in here?” If so, his grudge could only be against —

“Naturally. Jin Guangyao killed my brother.” Nie Huaisang asserted this claim as though it were common knowledge. “He also set up yours, which seems relevant.”

Jiang Yanli stiffened, lightning racing though her veins. “A-Xian? Didn’t he lose control?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I can’t be sure, I wasn’t there.” He said lightly. Jiang Yanli was beginning to believe he was allergic to acting serious. Dropping this on her as though it didn’t shake her entire worldview. “He is, however, the reason Jin Zixuan went to Qiongqi path that day.”

Jiang Yanli could have sworn she heard a dizi playing as she died, when Chenqing was hanging loose in A-Xian’s grasp. But she had been dying — that memory was not to be trusted. And just how clever would Jin Guangyao have to be to plan all of that? Surely not everything that had gone wrong could be laid at his feet.

Maybe we should consider the possibility anyway. Qin Su, for whom all the greatest cruelties of her life could be laid at the feet of that same man, suggested.

Jiang Yanli was uncertain that knowing would do anything more than make their losses hurt more. She sat in stunned silence for a long moment, and wished for a plum to let her retreat and reset. A reply to Tan-daifu’s latest letter was overdue, she thought hazily.

Tan-daifu would say that the truth helps. Qin Su seized the chance to turn her own nagging about Tan-daifu’s advice back on her, which didn’t seem fair.

But the truth would only help if she was ready to face it.  Jiang Yanli still woke every day expecting to see A-Xuan beside her, was thrust back into sepia-tinged memories of afternoons on the Lotus Lakes at the distant sound of adolescent laughter.

She would not be ready until the day she saw A-Xian again.

What day? Yanli-jie? Qin Su asked, but Jiang Yanli was uncertain why she’d thought that. A-Xian was dead. She could not simply trade someone else for him.

“How did you learn this?” She asked, finally.

Nie Huaisang looked up from a book he’d snagged from a nearby shelf while she was lost in her thoughts. “I have my ways.”

“You have spies.”

He picked up his fan to flick it dismissively. “Just a few informants. Mostly, we Nies are simply very good at out-drinking people.”

She had a feeling he was downplaying the extent of his network. “What else have you learned from your spies?”

“I just ask people to keep an eye out, it’s hardly espionage.” He insisted.

“Sure.” She said, seeing this was a hill he would die on.

Mollified, he continued. “Jin Guangyao also killed his father.”

“I’m aware. Shockingly, I’m not actually upset about that one.” Perhaps Nie Huaisang had finally run out of shocking revelations.

But no, he had another left in store. “Who is? No, the interesting part is he left a witness. A little bird told me that somewhere in Koi Tower, there’s a woman trapped in a hidden room.”

Jiang Yanli would never get used to having to sit side by side on the Peacock throne with Jin Guangyao. She had been meant to share it with Zixuan, as not only his wife but his equal.

She hadn’t expected her husband to want her as anything other than the mother of his children. Not until their second engagement, when his earnest, awkward attempts at wooing her had turned to learning each other over the course of honest conversations that slowly grew less stilted. Finally, their words had begun to flow like a mountain stream thawing in spring, and Jiang Yanli knew her heart was right to choose him.

A-Xuan had listened, and confided he needed her help, not only with things like courtesy and public speaking, but in knowing what needed to change.

Jin Guangyao, she thought, was so certain that he was the smartest person in the room, that he didn’t notice his wife-slash-sister was an entirely different person.

Qin Su had nearly always sat in silence during conferences, listening perhaps half the time as she thought about lesson plans and inspected the attendees’ robes and ornaments in case anyone had discovered a talented new artisan. So for the moment, Jiang Yanli did the same, albeit paying the debate her full attention.

No matter the length at which Sect Leader Yao complained about issues that did not remotely involve him (Gusu’s high land tax rates), internal sect matters not on the conference agenda (how a small temple sect and town sect on his lands kept driving yao and gui into each other’s territory), or were entirely out of left field. “See! There’s proof! The Jiang have been hoarding the Yiling Patriarch’s inventions for themselves!”

A-Cheng, who had just reached the point in his status report regarding Yunmeng’s taxes, blinked. Clearly used to  Sect Leader Yao, he didn’t even get angry, merely rubbed his knuckles against his forehead. “The Jin have all of Wei Wuxian’s heretical writings. I explained this last conference. And the conference before that.”

Sect Leader Yao continued to prove himself the least astute cultivator in the room. “But you’ve never let anyone into Lotus Pier to check for themselves!”

At that, the flush of anger filled his cheeks. But in an impressive-for-him show of control, A-Cheng only snapped, “What, exactly, are you insinuating, Yao-zongzhu? Would you like to share Xixia’s cultivation techniques with the class?”

“I see that Yunmeng’s recovery is continuing ahead of schedule. Let’s move on to…” Jin Guangyao blanched, as he realized who was next. “Qinghe. A-Sang, if you please.”

Nie Huaisang got to his feet, looking around with what she had to assume were faked nerves, clutching his fan close to his chest. He stuttered through the beginnings of his presentation, before swaying and kicking a bird cage hidden beneath his table into the center of the room. It spoke, in a disturbingly accurate imitation of A-Cheng.

And all right, that was entertaining. But mostly, the conference continued to star Sect Leader Yao.

At least today, A-Ling was perched on the wide throne beside her, making it a little more bearable.

Leaning into her side, his tongue caught between his teeth, A-Ling scribbled on each new sheet of paper. Ostensibly, he was practicing his calligraphy. And he did do a bit of that, with messy strokes, but only when he noticed her looking down. Mostly, he scribbled blobs that he proudly declared were all the dogs he would someday own, when she asked.

Black flecks of ink spattered the front of her robes, but Jiang Yanli could not bring herself to care. She’d missed so much. She’d take every second with her son she could get.

Jiang Yanli’s continued efforts to pay attention were stymied by Qin Su’s running commentary on everything from the tackiness of the gilded everything to the dust bunny that had attached itself unnoticed to Sect Leader Ouyang’s beard, taking the chance to say everything she’d never been able to.

It’s a shame I never tempted Ouyang-zongzhu’s tailor away. He doesn’t deserve her. And oh, look, Su She’s imitating the Lan more obviously than ever. It’s almost like he sold them out to the Wen or something and misses the status. The off-white and teal blue of Su She’s robes were at most a single shade away from Lan colors, and the wave embroidery on his hems was suspiciously cloud-like.

The most notable detail of Su She’s presentation was the way the Lan disciples — save, of course, for a slightly off-color Lan Xichen — pretended not to snicker as he claimed the peasants in his lands were superstitious about musical cultivation.

She’d ensured Sect Leader Ran was next to him, and noted the two of them speaking quietly during one of Sect Leader Yao’s disruptions. This time, he was one insult away from starting a cat fight with Sect Leader Tang, over some minor territorial dispute. Jin Guangyao actually got up and went over to them to smooth ruffled feathers, though his efforts were stymied by A-Cheng’s utter apathy over whether his young, hotheaded vassal stabbed Sect Leader Yao in the eyes with her chopsticks.

It’s not a cultivation conference if no one tries to murder Yao-Zongzhu. Someday, someone will take one for the team and actually do it. Qin Su sighed wistfully.

From the way Jin Guangyao’s dimples twitched when he returned, he’d contemplated it.

During their break for lunch, Sect Leader Ran approached the Peacock throne. As she’d expected, he asked directly for a meeting with Jin Guangyao to negotiate terms for the implementation of watchtowers.

Sect Leader Zhai’s approach was more surprising.

“Xiandu, Jin-furen.” Sect Leader Zhai bowed to each of them. “I would like to request a private meeting with both of you before I leave Lanling. Jin-furen brought up some interesting points yesterday that I would like to discuss further.”

“Both of us?” Jin Guangyao was a man who planned everything himself, who seemed to believe that seeking a second opinion meant smiling and nodding and then explaining why the other person was wrong.

The implication that his here-to-fore apolitical wife had made a better offer appeared to have broken him.

“I think that could be arranged.” Jiang Yanli said. “A-Yao?”

He recovered quickly, gesturing for his assistant to put a note in his schedule. “Yes, of course. I believe tomorrow, immediately after dinner would be an ideal time.”

“Excellent. I look forward to it.” Sect Leader Zhai bowed again and turned away, without waiting for their dismissal.

Tempers frayed in the afternoon, and Jiang Yanli had to pass A-Ling off to his minders for a nap. As Sect Leader Yao rose for his actual turn to report, Nie Huaisang made his move.

He screeched, jumping to his feet as though bitten, and bumped into Sect Leader Yao hard enough to knock them both to the floor. The wine jar in his hand shattered, sharp edges lacerating his palm. He stared at the cuts for a long moment as they began to bleed. And, clutching his wrist, he drew in a deep breath, and howled.

The majority of the room promptly began to find their teacups or the nearest tacky golden peacock drapes utterly fascinating. But his elder brother’s sworn brothers were at his side in an instant.

“A-Sang, please. Let us see.” Jin Guangyao pleaded.

I think Jin Guangyao really does care about Huaisang. He’s never going to see him coming. Qin Su said, and they both winced at a particularly high-pitched cry. Nie Huaisang should have been born to a theatrical troupe.

“Oh, that looks —” Lan Xichen caught only a glimpse of the injured hand before he had to let go to avoid Nie Huaisang’s wildly swinging other arm.

“Ergeeeeeee,” Nie Huaisang wailed. “I’m bleeding out, aren’t I? You can say it.”

“No, no,” As Jin Guangyao finally captured the flailing hand, Lan Xichen pressed down on the wound with his own handkerchief. “You should see a healer, just to clean and bind it properly.”

“Will you take me?” He sniffed, his eyes wide and filling once again with tears as he looked between the two men.

Jin Guangyao exchanged a pained glance with his theoretically secret lover. “I can’t leave right now, can you?”

Lan Xichen shook his head. “I’m scheduled to speak on our findings about suppressing ghosts summoned with spirit flags next.”

“Right. Right.” Jin Guangyao stared into the distance for a moment. Qin Su hoped he was watching his plans for the conference crumble before his eyes. “Huaisang, you’ll have to go with one of your disciples —”

Nie Huaisang sobbed harder.

That was her cue.

“I’ll take him to get patched up.” Jiang Yanli offered, already striding towards them.

Jin Guangyao looked around at the determinedly apathetic audience, then back to Nie Huaisang. He sighed. “Thank you. A-Su will take good care of you, please let her take you to a healer.”

Nie Huaisang kept up his whining until they were out of sight and earshot of the hall, though still under an awning away from the downpour outside. Then, with a glance around to make sure no one was watching, he plucked a vial of salve and a bandage out of his robes. He only asked her to pop open the salve, but she took it and the bandage from him, gesturing for him to hold out his hand.

“I can do it myself.” He insisted, the vapid act vanishing in an instant.

Jiang Yanli rolled her eyes. “Bandages are more secure when someone else wraps them. It’ll help stop the bleeding.” Cultivators were always such babies about receiving help.

“All right.” He gazed at her with wide and uncertain eyes. As though no one had offered to help him without something in return, or a fit of hysterics, in a long time. Yet even as she finished tying of the bandage, that incongruous seriousness took over once again. “We have at least until the end of the evening banquet, though it would be better if you returned for that. The house should be near the kitchens, in what looks like an empty space.”

They walked back and forth past the kitchens several times, but found nothing. The hems of their robs were soaked from the rain, the line between wet and dry creeping higher with every step.

“Right. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.” He pulled one of A-Xian’s Compasses of Evil out of his pocket. “Only Demonic Cultivation could hide a building like this, but it must be shielded somehow, or people would notice a cluster of resentment in the middle of Koi Tower. I wonder… hold this.”

He thrust his umbrella into her chest, expecting her to hold it over his head. Bemused, she did so.

“A lightning talisman, perhaps, to imitate the effects of Zidian.” He mused, sketching in the air with his injured hand as though it didn't pain him. “Yes! It’s this way.”

As they walked, she watched him closely. “I had no idea you were so…”

“That I’m in possession of a working brain? Yes, I prefer it that way.” He said brightly.

Being underestimated had its advantages, but that didn’t stop it from hurting.

“I was going to say that I thought you didn’t cultivate beyond the basics.” Jiang Yanli corrected. “Cultivation has no bearing on intelligence. I would know.”

“Yes, I suppose you would. I’ve always preferred talismans to sword cultivation, much less those horrible life-draining sabers, despite Dage’s wishes. Did you think Wei-xiong was only friends with me for my sense of humor?”

She hadn’t spent much time thinking about their friendship at all, not when she was occupied watching A-Xian fall in love.

What sense of humor? Qin Su said. Teasingly, so Jiang Yanli repeated it, earning an insulted gasp.

But Nie Huaisang’s methods bore fruit, his compass leading them to their destination.

From the outside, the building looked like a shed. One of the many near-identical buildings that housed tools or out of use decorations, albeit with an unusual amount of space on either side. But when she looked closely, Jiang Yanli glimpsed a shimmer of golden energy, mixed with writhing shadows. Wards, and made from a combination of resentful and spiritual energy at that. No wonder neither of them had so much as glimpsed it before.

Jiang Yanli stepped forward to inspect the wards in detail. They looked to be designed to hide the building, and keep someone in. Though the details looked overly complicated for concealing a single person, she and Nie Huaisang agreed. Keeping anyone who knew it was there out would require a level of intricacy that risked collapsing the entire ward every time someone passed through.

Their presence would not be detected.

Still, Nie Huaisang stepped through first, claiming, “I can talk my way out of this, if we’re wrong. You, on the other hand…”

When Jiang Yanli stepped through, there was a wave of disorientation, like stepping onto solid ground after hours on a boat. It passed, and a two-story pavilion of modest size stood before her. Far less elaborate than her own, she thought it might once have been used to house servants, before it was repurposed into a prison.

Keeping out of sight of anyone who might look out, they approached the open windows on either side of the door. Jiang Yanli plastered herself to the wall, and peered inside.

She and Nie Huaisang had agreed that if they found the woman’s prison, they would only scout from the outside.

But what Jiang Yanli saw through that window changed everything.

A young woman in linen servant’s robes knelt at a table, her shoulders hunched over as she methodically ground herbs into powder. A text depicting the anatomy of a human body was open to her left.

The woman looked up, and Jiang Yanli was certain she was seeing a ghost.

[pastthevaulteddoors]

It’s not Wednesday... but I don’t care. Here’s a little bit of If-WWX-was-raised-by-the-Wens story.

“I still find it hard to believe that you stood up to your father like that.”

The Unclean Realm had nothing on Lotus Pier’s scenery or Cloud Recesses’ serenity, but it definitely gave Wei Wuxian a sense of security with its sturdy walls and many guards posted along the parapets. Although he felt that if he started flashing his unorthodox talismans those many blades would turn inwards on him.

Jin Zixuan shook his head, shame clear on his face. “It was the only decision I could make,” he began. “I couldn’t sit back and watch Qishan Wen tear apart our livelihood.”

Nie Mingjue sat at the head of the hall, his blade safely kept to his side. Wei Wuxian noticed how Meng Yao moved from his usual right hand post to stand at Sect Leader Nie’s left, closer to where his brother sat. Jiang Cheng’s fists were clenched tightly over his knees and Nie Huaisang looked among his friends with wide, worried eyes.

“Thus far, the Wens have been unable to establish their supervisory offices within Qinghe’s territory. We can spare a few troops to assist you in Langya,” Nie Mingjue stated.

“That would make a world of difference,” Jin Zixuan said. “Qin Changye is wavering on his jurisdiction and continues to cower under my father’s influence. Laoling Qin Sect might not stand for much longer, if they haven’t already fled to Carp Tower.”

Sect Leader Nie slammed his fist on top of his table, rage clear in his brown eyes. “Lanling Jin Sect is sitting, waiting to see who wins before they pick a side. Are they going to sit in their tower and watch the rest of us burn?!”

Jin Zixuan frowned. “Qin Changye’s daughter, Qin Su, was a helpful voice on pushing the sect to fight, but her cultivation is low and has already gone into hiding with her mother. Assuming they join in with Lanling Jin Sect, we might have a voice among the populace.”

“This is ridiculous!” Jiang Cheng scowled. “The Wens are slaughtering our people and raising them again for their corpse army. They’re not even sacrificing their people to devour our freedom, but using bodies as puppets and shields.”

Wei Wuxian looked down at his full tea cup. It was difficult to get him down, but he couldn’t escape his hand in this disaster. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he said eventually. “It was… they were supposed to overwhelm the sects into submission, not murder everyone.”

“You’re young and not a war strategist. It’s not at all surprising for you to be deceived by human nature’s darker side,” Meng Yao said diplomatically.

“What you can do now is use your skills to undo the mess your talents created,” Nie Mingjue followed up to Meng Yao’s comment, although he did not sound as soothing as his Vice Envoy.

“Don’t blame this all on him,” Jiang Cheng said. “Qishan Wen would have attacked regardless. Wen Qing warned us of a pending plot.”

Wei Wuxian had to admire Jiang Cheng’s bravery to talk back to Sect Leader Nie and not back down to the glower directed his way. He certainly didn’t get his balls for his dad!

“What’s done is done,” Jin Zixuan injected. “What we need to do now is figure out how to disable Wen Rouhan’s power.”

“The Unclean Realm is not out of hot water yet,” Wei Wuxian said. “Do you know about the Yin Irons?”

A flash of confusion crossed Nie Mingjue’s eyes. “No.”

“I’m not surprised,” Wei Wuxian went on. “Each major sect has housed a Yin Iron for several centuries and the information was forcefully buried to hide them. It provides a subtle pulse of protection and growth of cultivation, which is why the five have been able to remain firmly stable for as long as they have.”

Nei MingJue frowned at him but did not interrupt. Wei Wuxian stood then, and stretched with his new spotlight. “Do you really think your warriors are strong from blade cultivation alone? No, of course not!”

“Wei Wuxian, do not insult our practices!”

“Not insulting, but I’m coming around to a point!” Wei Wuxian began to pace. “The Yin Irons used to be one, and so Wen Rouhan has been gathering them to bend resentful energy of core-hosted corpses. They’re stronger than resentful corpses, if you haven’t noticed.”

He suddenly turned and held up a hand. “He already has two. His own from Qishan and,” he lowered his fingers as he counted them off. “The Yunmeng’s Iron is likely in his possession now. I had a moment of it’s control, but…” he lowered his counting hand and gave a short look to Jiang Cheng.

“Then where are the other?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“One is here, somewhere,” Wei Wuxian waved a hand wide. “And one is in Lanling, likely controlled by the Jin Sect. But with how close Sect Leader Wen and Sect Leader Jin are, I doubt I is a buried secret and being used as a negotiation tool.”

“I have not heard of any Yin Iron in Lanling,” Jin Zixuan stated.

“You weren’t supposed to. No one really was,” Wei Wuxian scratched his cheek with in index finger, looking to play this off as a poor joke. “I may have found it through my research, then confirmed such things at Cloud Recesses.”

Nei Mingjue didn’t look pleased. Who would with new information? “And what would you have us do about it? We’re fighting a war. We don’t have time to play detective and puzzle this out.”

“That’s… ah, kind of important to the puzzle of winning,” Wei Wuxian stopped pacing. “I don’t know the details, but I know the gathering of the Yin Iron will result in a weapon. No one will be safe.”

“What weapon? What does it do? What defenses can we put into place.”

“That’s… just it. I… don’t know,” Wie Wuxian winced at Nie Mingjue’s terrifying expression.

“Then what use are your assumptions?” Sect Leader Nie’s voice boomed through the hall and felt like a hard punch to the stomach. “We can’t rely on these magic artifacts that we don’t even know if they exist. What we need to do,” Nie Mingjue slammed his fist once more against the table and a cracking sound could be heard. Baxia shivered with murderous glee in her stand. “Is start pushing them back and raze all the Wens until they are nothing but a bad memory.”

“If I just had a little time to research—”

“We don’t have time!” Nie Mingjue hollered, and somewhere in the ringing of his voice, Nie Huasang pleaded with, “Brother.”

“Wei Wuxian, he’s right,” Jiang Cheng spoke up finally. His chest was out, feeling the comradery to agree with a sect leader in his father’s place. “We have to act now. Every day they kill and raise our cultivators while losing none of their own if only through their resurrection. We need to focus on the fight.”

“But if we could find the Iron we could disable his ability,” Wei Wuxian began.

Nie Mingjue looked ready to bellow yet again and another of Nie Huasang’s pleas were lost when the chamber door shyly pushed open.

“We’re in the middle of a meeting!” Sect Leader Nie finally did bellow, making the courier shiver in fright.

“A- apologies, Sect Leader, but there’s urgent news.” The courier didn’t dare enter further than the threshold. Luckily, Meng Yao sprang into action and swept through the hall to accept the poor bowing man’s missive. “Thank you,” he said softly and dismissed him.

When Meng Yao turned he held two scroll with a darkened expression. “It’s from First Young Master Lan,” he said the name formally before he rushed back to the dais. A collected intake of breath came from the room of young men. No one had heard from Lan Xichen in months. It was a horrible oversight to not look in on one’s allies, but they never called out for help, nor did they stand down. All anyone knew was that the Wens burned the mountain and was followed by an eerie, frightening silence.

Nie Mingjue unrolled one of the scrolls given to him by his Vice Envoy, the second, Meng Yao unrolled himself. The two read in silence for a few minutes with matching stoic and pained expressions, then slowly resolve.

Meng Yao couldn’t seem to shake himself from the words, but when Nie Mingjue set the missive down, appearing grave. “Xichen is the now Sect Leader Lan after the death of his father,” he informed the group. Wei Wuxian didn’t realize he was wavering on his feet until a hand reached out and pulled him down by the wrist. Nie Huasang shuffled so they could share a cushion.

“And the others?” Jin Zuxian barked.

“When the Wens attacked, the surviving Lan Sect was forced into hiding in the back mountains. Some magically protected barrier is there,” Meng Yao spoke when Nie Mingjue did not continue. There was a catch in his voice as he tried hard to reign in his emotions. “But they were smoked out this past month.”

“And Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but interrupt, his nerves on edge for news of the man he.. he…

“Taken by the Wens as compensation for the delay of handing over their Yin Iron,” Meng Yao said tightly. “Which is also now in their possession. Cloud Recesses, or what remains, has been forcefully turned into Gusu’s first cultivation office.”

Jiang Cheng cussed under his breath, and Jin Zuxian smacked a fist onto his low table. Wei Wuxian felt dizzy, and if Nie Huasang had not put his hands on him he surely would have fallen over.

Wei Wuxian never felt so guilty for what he had aimed the Wen Sect to do until this very moment. Once, he was giddy with the thought of inviting Lan Wangji to his Sect, to show off the patchy hills where he and Wen Ning went hunting, or showed him all his projects and experiments in his workshop. Surely he would have been able to impress the peerless Lan Wangji with his intelligence and cunning, but not like this. Not as a prisoner.

Suddenly filled with adrenaline, Wei Wuxian jumped to his feet, throwing off his friend, and bowed very low. “Sect Leader Nie,” he began in an impassioned rush. “Let me return to Qinghe. Sect Leader Wen might not know of my defection, he might not know what I did at Lotus Pier. Please, let me try to get the Irons out of his grip and rescue Lan Zhan.”

“Out of the question,” Nei Mingjue’s answer was swift as a butcher’s knife. “You can’t go gallivanting across the countryside to rescue your schoolyard crush when we need you here to paint your arrays.”

Jin Zuxian was next on his feet, bowing as well. “With all due respect, he is our friend and we should not abandon him.”

“Sect Leader Nie,” Jaing Cheng was up next, bowing for permission. “We need strong forces, and Lan Wangji is as strong as they get.”

Nie Huasang was next to his feet. “Brother, I—”

“Not another word!” Nie Mingjue slammed his fist onto the table. It finally cracked down the middle but did not break entirely. “Listen to yourself! You are heirs to your sects. We have people to protect. Your responsibilities lie with them. One man will never rise above the strength of your sects.

“In an hour we’ll begin a new campaign. Jiang Cheng, Jin Zuxian, I expect you to be there was heads of your sects while your fathers are unable to represent them. Wei Wuxian,” he pointed an angry finger at the boy. “Resume working on your arrays.”

“Brother—”

“Huasang, make sure the Jins are hosted properly,” Nie Mingjue stood suddenly, concluding the end of their discussion. “No more talk of a rescue mission.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Tedious Joys 

 - Chapter 1/8 - Ao3 link -

By the time Lao Nie wrote to Lan Qiren under personal cover to ask for his assistance, they hadn’t spoken in nearly seven years.

Oh, they’d spoken – it was rather impossible to avoid speaking, acting sect leader to sect leader. They attended the same discussion conferences, and of course the Lan and Nie sects were close allies, insofar as the Great Sects were anything to each other; their alliance, martial and moral, tended to balance out the riches and clever tricks brought to bear by the Jin and Jiang sects, and of course the Wen sect was large and powerful enough that it didn’t need or want any allies that it couldn’t subject to its dominion. An alliance meant constant contact, checking in, and ideally would call for a good relationship between the leaders of the two sects, which they had once had.

They had once been very close, even.

Lan Qiren had idolized Lao Nie from a young age, admiring his fierceness and his passion for life, his ruthless logic and his practicality and his thoughtful sense of judgment, all the more admirable given that he was from a sect known for being a bunch of hotheads. When Lan Qiren’s older brother – older by nearly ten years, with a middle brother that had died before Lan Qiren’s birth and several miscarriages in between as his parents struggled to provide the sect with the requisite spare – had continuously tried to leave his irritating younger sibling at home when going on night-hunts, Lao Nie had cheerfully interjected himself more than once, volunteering that he would be happy to take him along, and at that point Lan Qiren’s brother, who admired the older man nearly as much as Lan Qiren did, would generally yield, even if he grumbled about it.

Unlike Qingheng-jun, who ought to have been more considerate for his own family, Lao Nie had never minded having to slow down the pace of his hunts in order to accommodate a sickly child, a pedantic one that needed to understand things thoroughly before he was comfortable trying something new. He had often allowed Qingheng-jun to rush ahead and win glory that ought in all fairness to have been his, something Lan Qiren only discovered when he reviewed his history in retrospect.

Lao Nie hadn’t minded how clumsy Lan Qiren was, or how picky he was, refusing to eat even common foods if the texture didn’t appeal to him; he had only laughed at his excessive formality, the harshness of his tone, his tendency to repeat himself or to become caught on little details. He’d indulged him, wasting copious amounts of his time listening to Lan Qiren talk enthusiastically about the Lan sect rules, which he’d fallen in love with at an early age and, when young, rarely missed the chance to bring into any given conversation no matter how irrelevant.

He’d always been very kind to him.

If you had asked Lan Qiren ten years ago, he would have confidently asserted that Lao Nie was one of his dearest friends.

And yet – it had been Lan Qiren, who was short on friends, and not Lao Nie, who had many, that had cut off their relationship. Lan Qiren hadn’t truly spoken to Lao Nie in seven years, limiting their conversations to the subject of sect business and keeping their meetings as short as could be allowed by etiquette, ignoring the way Lao Nie looked at him with sadness and regret in his eyes. Even when Lan Qiren’s anger had finally died down from a raging flame to a simmering anger he suspected would never leave him entirely, he had thought to himself that it was too late, that the fire had burnt everything out, that there were only ashes left behind.

And yet – on the seventh year, apparently apropos of nothing, Lao Nie wrote to him, requesting his presence.

As a friend, he wrote. Come as a friend, or not at all. I have no use for a sect leader.

Lan Qiren struggled with the request, which did not obey any of the unwritten rules he had forced himself to learn on top of the many that were written. He did not know if he was still enough of a friend to Lao Nie to answer such a request.

He did not know himself whether he would go until the moment that he went.

Lao Nie met him at the gateway to the Unclean Realm, relief written in every line of him.

“Thank you,” he said, and Lan Qiren shifted uncomfortably from side to side.

“I didn’t even do anything yet,” he said stiffly, instinctively reaching up to stroke his beard. It was a more acceptable social tic than others that he had been discouraged from employing; losing access to it, however temporarily, had been one of the reasons he had been so upset with Cangse Sanren when she’d shaved it off while he was asleep. She’d tracked him down later to apologize when she’d realized how badly he’d taken it, serious for perhaps the only time he’d known her, and they’d ended up as something almost like friends out of the whole debacle. He hadn’t heard from her in years, either, but that was no breach; it was only that she was busy with her husband and the little child she had once shoved into his arms with that deep, echoing laugh of hers. “Don’t thank me until I’ve determined if I can do anything for you, or will.”

Lao Nie nodded and showed him inside, leading him to his private chambers rather than the sect leader’s study. This suggested that the issue was private, although Lan Qiren supposed he’d already known that, based on the letter.

They sat in silence while Lao Nie personally served the tea, his brow still creased in concern, and Lan Qiren stared at him – too intently, as always – and wondered what private issue could have caused such an upset, and moreover what he could possibly need Lan Qiren for. Lao Nie was a private man, in the custom of his clan and sect; Lan Qiren didn’t know his birthdate or even his age, only the approximates, and many of the details of his life escaped him. It made it difficult to guess what the matter might be, if it were personal and not political.

Although…

“My condolences regarding your second wife,” he said, watching, and Lao Nie jerked his head in a tight nod, acknowledging the loss. Lao Nie’s first wife had been a mysterious figure, appearing and disappearing as suddenly as an unexpected burst of rain on a sunny day – the stories in Qinghe enthusiastically claimed she was a goddess that descended from the heavens to dally with moral race, who’d ended up marrying Lao Nie to legitimize the child he’d unexpectedly planted in her belly, only to be summoned back to the heavens on important duties, although of course it was commonly understood that she was more than likely just some powerful rogue cultivator who had decided after a short interval that being married was not for her. Lan Qiren had never met her, although he had had the fortune to meet Lao Nie’s second wife, who had been much more down-to-earth, an innkeeper’s daughter.

(Lan Qiren had rather liked her the few times they’d met. She was a little self-absorbed, in a harmless sort of way. She liked beautiful things and good food and talking about them, and was happy to carry on entire conversations while he responded only with nods and grunts; to his relief, she had never expected anything more from him. She was very beautiful herself, both delicate and seductive with her fox’s face and long and narrow eyes; some cruel people spread rumors that she was a demon or a yao in disguise, sent to wreak havoc through the seduction of men. She had never tried anything like that on Lan Qiren, unless her attempt at seduction consistent of sharing a plate of snacks and occupying him enough to prevent him from having to listen to the more boring parts of the social parts of certain discussion conference meetings. At any rate, he’d been truly saddened to hear that she had died.)

Still, Lao Nie had not yet begun to speak.

That meant that the problem was not in relation to that aspect of his life, which in all honesty was a relief. Lan Qiren could not imagine a world in which Lao Nie confided his marital problems in a prematurely old bachelor like him.

Perhaps…

“Your sons?” he asked, and this time Lao Nie flinched, so he’d guessed right. “Ah. The younger one?”

The younger one would be about A-Zhan’s age, surely, or even younger. Little more than a toddler, not yet quite old enough to be taken away from the mother – or nurse, in the case of Lao Nie’s second son – and they were so terribly fragile at that age…

“No,” Lao Nie said, and sighed, a long exhale. “Forgive me, it’s a difficult subject. A-Sang is fine. The issue is with A-Jue.”

Nie Mingjue would now be around eight or nine years old, Lan Qiren thought, or perhaps even older – it was so hard to tell with these secretive Nie, and he only knew enough to make the guess at all because of their former friendship. Most sects were only vaguely aware that there were heirs to the Nie sect, and had certainly never seen hide nor hair of Nie Mingjue, during discussion conferences or otherwise.

He’d been a toddler the last time Lan Qiren had seen him, young and energetic, running around anywhere, but he had something of his father’s kindness – he’d actually listened to Lan Qiren telling him about rules that didn’t apply to him, and even proudly repeated some of them back to his father, much to Lan Qiren’s embarrassment – without having yet grown into his father’s occasional callous ruthlessness.

Perhaps it made a certain amount of sense that Lao Nie would ask for help with his children. Since his life plans had been irrevocably altered, Lan Qiren had taken over teaching at the Cloud Recesses, and to his surprise, was apparently making something of a name for himself.

It hadn’t been intentional: he’d been desperate for something to do with himself that wasn’t just for the sect, so much of his time consumed by the business of sect leadership, and he’d always planned to become a teacher eventually, although he’d always assumed it would be much later in life. He’d volunteered to teach, only to look at the small handful of obedient, well-trained Lan sect disciples that he would be in charge of instructing and quickly realized that such ‘teaching’ wouldn’t occupy his time at all.

Accordingly, he had demanded that the sect elders allow him to accept disciples from other sects as well. The request was highly irregular, but strictly abided by all Lan sect rules on the subject – it was Lan Qiren putting together the proposal, after all – and the elders had granted it with surprisingly little debate. To this day, Lan Qiren wasn’t sure if it was pity for his circumstances or simply an assumption that no outside students would bother attending, but he would not let the approval, once granted, be so easily retracted: he had sent out letters asking for students at once, and to everyone’s surprise but his own they actually came.

(He’d been clever about it, at the start. He’d reached out first to those smaller sects that would not have access to resources even a quarter as good as the Cloud Recesses, asking specifically for those children that seemed troublesome – the ones it took time and attention to teach, the ones who didn’t seem to be getting what they were supposed to learn. The slow, the stupid, the angry, the ones who disappointed their parents most of all. Lan Qiren might not have answers for those children, but at least he could give them his time and attention and he found, for most of them, that was all they wanted.)

Recently, though, they’d started getting more requests to join from the slightly larger subsidiary sects, more people, even murmurs about sending him their sect heirs rather than their burdens – people were saying that his teaching could make a gentleman even out of a waste, which Lan Qiren didn’t really understand. After all, putting aside a few students that were too arrogant to be willing to learn anything, he hadn’t encountered a single one he’d characterize as a waste.

“How can I help A-Jue?” he asked, expecting Lao Nie to finally give in and explain.

But Lao Nie shook his head.

“There’s some background I need to tell you first,” he said. “Without which the problem won’t make much sense. You have one of the finest analytical minds I’ve ever met, Qiren, and a way of thinking that doesn’t match up to conventional wisdom – I’m hoping you can help me where expertise has failed.”

Lan Qiren frowned, embarrassed. “I can try,” he said, already mentally rearranging his plans to account for a longer stay. He disliked sudden changes and had planned out three possible lengths of time for his visit – one short, one medium, one long – so that he would be able to select whichever one would be most appropriate. He hoped that the issue would not require any more time than the longest period he had allotted. “What is the subject?”

“Saber,” Lao Nie said, and smiled at Lan Qiren’s confusion. “My sect’s cultivation style. Let me explain…”

Lao Nie’s explanation was fascinating.

The cultivation style of the Nie sect – and the Nie clan in particular, especially the main branch – was unlike anything Lan Qiren had ever heard before, completely different in both substance and philosophy. It was a rough trade, a difficult road, heartbreaking in its sacrifice, impressive in its results…

It wasn’t the road for everybody, but one couldn’t help but admire those that walked it.

“Doesn’t it get close to demonic cultivation, using resentful energy like that?” he asked at one point, and Lao Nie had explained to him how they had drawn the distinction – using beasts, never humans, and channeling the worst of the effects into their sabers rather than themselves. How much they strived to cultivate morality into their sabers as well as power.

Lan Qiren thought that it was a fine line, but after some thought concluded that they fell on the right side of it, if just barely. The primary dangers of demonic cultivation were in the way it increased the amount of evil in the world, whether through the inevitable madness and violent rampages of its wielders or through the simple side effects of using other people’s corpses as your playthings, increasing their own resentment, breaking the hearts of their loved ones, and causing their ancestors to curse you; that sort of vile conduct was an offense to the Heavens. The Nie sect’s cultivation avoided that, and if through their sabers they added a little bit of evil to the world then it could not be denied that they took much, much more of it out.

“I think I understand now,” he said, brushing his fingers along his beard. “But…why tell me? Isn’t it one of your clan secrets?”

“It is,” Lao Nie agreed. “As a general principle, we do not tell outsiders unless we must.”

The Nie sect preferred principles over rules, which Lan Qiren begrudgingly accepted even if he himself preferred having rules, clear and precise and equal even if they sometimes weren’t quite fair. But situation-dependent or not, the Nie held to those principles just as tightly as any Lan did to their sect rules, and that was worthy of respect.

“So you felt that you must,” Lan Qiren observed. “But why? And what does it have to do with A-Jue? Is he not taking to your sect’s teachings…?”

“I would almost prefer that,” Lao Nie said, and rubbed his eyes. “We’ve always had those that didn’t follow our ways – those that refused to train the saber, or refused to cultivate a spirit despite all their training. No. It’s actually…A-Jue’s very good.”

Lan Qiren had been a teacher for seven years. He was accustomed to parents who needed to praise their child before getting to the point, though he wouldn’t have expected it of Lao Nie. He waited.

“He’s too good,” Lao Nie said, and abruptly covered his face with his hands. “He’s already cultivated a spirit in Baxia.”

Lan Qiren’s whole body jerked. “Lao Nie!” he exclaimed. “You’ve already given him a saber? He’s too young!”

Under the age of ten, Nie Mingjue should still be building his strength, shaping the muscles that would serve him in the future; he should be wielding only a practice saber made of wood, heavy and slow as he etched the forms of his sect style into his bones. Even if he was a true prodigy, a once-in-a-generation genius, he should at most bear a weapon of dulled steel, and never an actual spiritual weapon, much less the one that would be the companion of his future life.

“He took it himself,” Lao Nie said. “A little over a year ago – we had a surprise attack, right in the middle of the summer hunts. Supposedly bandits, but actually mercenaries, supported by traitors from the inside; they had a map to lead them straight inside our home, and attacked at the moment when most of us were gone. When everyone else ran for cover, A-Jue went to the armory and picked up a saber, freshly forged, and he took his first blood the same day. What was I supposed to do? Take it away from him?”

Lan Qiren felt a stab of sympathy for Lao Nie’s impossible dilemma.

Taking the saber away just when A-Jue had started bonding with it, right after he’d shed blood with it for the first time – yes, that would have been far worse. It might have crippled his confidence, introduced hesitation that would damage his cultivation forever, hinder his future growth…

“And he already developed a saber spirit?” he said instead. “Within a year?”

That wasn’t genius. That was insane.

“I know,” Lao Nie said. “The faster we cultivate, the sooner we die, but how am I supposed to say that to a child? And there’s how fast he’s picked up our cultivation style, how fast he’s going – what if he introduces some flaw into it and it sinks in before anyone notices? Even a minor disruption to his qi, at this age –”

Lan Qiren scowled. “Stop panicking,” he ordered. “That won’t help anyone at all, least of all him.”

Unexpectedly, Lao Nie smiled at him, although the smile was full of regret.

“It’s easy to say and hard to do,” he said. “Don’t you know I always lose my head when it comes to love?”

Lan Qiren knew.

Lao Nie had always been reckless in matters of the heart, as seen by his decision to marry some stranger for his first wife and a nobody for his second, and to thereafter refuse a third, more sensible arrangement with some sect leader’s daughter or sister that could care for the children as a mother while acting as a useful political tool, even if no other children were forthcoming. Even though his life had been beset with later tragedy, he had been happy with his wives – happy and in love, and unwilling to trade a single moment with them for anything.

Lan Qiren knew this. He even understood it.

He just had trouble excusing it.

Lao Nie had been friend to Lan Qiren’s brother long before he’d been friend to him, and so when Qingheng-jun had fallen in love in that sudden, shocking, irrevocable manner that the Lan sect had, Lao Nie had been the first to support him in it, delighted to think that his friend would find the same happiness he had himself found. He’d encouraged him not to be shy in presenting his courtship, in presenting himself as a possible match; he’d reassured him that some disinterest to begin with was reasonable, given that they were still strangers, and advised him to enjoy the feeling of falling in love, to be reckless and bold and daring with it…and he did it all in writing, from a distance.  

Lao Nie had been occupied at the time with issues in his own sect – probably the scandals relating to his first wife, in retrospect, though of course he said nothing of it back then – and had unwisely trusted in Qingheng-jun’s description of the events, rather than seeing the circumstances for himself.  It was understandable that he would not comprehend how fiercely his friend’s heart had been gripped by love, or how truly disinterested He Kexin was in her ardent suitor, not when Qingheng-jun described her resistance as mere coquetry. It was impossible for Lao Nie to have predicted that his well-meant advice that love was worth anything, even defiance of sect rules and the counsels of the elders, would be interpreted in such a terrible way.

Still less, of course, could he have predicted what happened next, the tragedy of He Kexin and the friend that deceived her, that tried to use her and Qingheng-jun through her through false rumors and twisted stories, and in so doing underestimated how unbridled He Kexin could be when pressed. It was all part and parcel of the same underlying calamity: if Qingheng-jun had not been so persistent in his courtship, He Kexin wouldn’t have had such a bad impression of the Lan sect; if she hadn’t had such a bad impression of the Lan sect, she might not have been so ready to believe her friend’s lies about their teacher’s conduct, to allow herself to be indirectly used to manipulate Qingheng-jun’s love-madness to the advantage of another sect; if He Kexin had been a little less arrogant or a little less blindly trusting or had bothered to ask a single question before taking upon herself the duty of executioner as well as judge, if she’d only held back her sword and not gone so far as to kill a man over baseless rumor – if only – if only – if, if, if –

If Qingheng-jun had not decided that his love mattered more to him than his sect.

There was no way Lao Nie could have known what would happen.

It was understandable.

One might even say that it was forgivable, except Lan Qiren had not yet gotten around to forgiving him.

Lan Qiren had dreamed of travel, not teaching; he’d wanted to play music in all the forgotten places, to learn all the things that could not be simply deduced from inside the safety of the Cloud Recesses. He’d wanted to help people, to use that vast store of knowledge that seemed irrevocably stuck in his brain to solve problems and suggest solutions. But the Lan sect needed a leader, and with Qingheng-jun in permanent seclusion, disinterested in sect matters, choosing instead to obsess endlessly over his broken heart…

The duty had fallen to Lan Qiren instead.

(He Kexin had eventually grown rather fond of her husband, even if love wasn’t the word for it. Lan Qiren didn’t know if she was simply salvaging what she could out of an unsalvageable situation or if she just enjoyed the exercise, but he had two nephews now, to raise as if they were his own. Because that was just what he needed, another chain binding him to his home, another duty that shouldn’t have been his – he loved his nephews more than anything, so he couldn’t be angry at them, couldn’t blame them for being born, and so he had to be angry at everyone else instead.)

Lan Qiren lowered his head and pursed his lips. He knew Lao Nie wanted his forgiveness. He even knew, according to the sect rules he valued so highly, that he should grant it. Seven years was surely long enough to pay for any innocent mistake, wasn’t it?

Come as a friend, or not at all.

That was the invitation Lao Nie had extended, and Lan Qiren had come. That was very nearly a decision, if he wanted it to be.

“Let me see him,” Lan Qiren proposed, and Lao Nie’s smile warmed at once.

[threephasebird]

Hello friend, it's Nicole from TAD discord, so sorry for awkwardly & randomly sliding into your dms. I've noticed that you've been reblogging a lot of The Untamed recently and I have just finished The Untamed & literally cannot think about anything else. I'm obsessed. Anyway, I've also noticed from your blog that your favorite seems to be JGY and I find that *fascinating*. He's very much not my fav, but he's such a complex character that I would love to hear your thoughts & feelings & analysis?

And to be completely clear, I will never try to debate with you or say your opinions are wrong or immoral or anything. I'm not an anti, I've stanned plenty of villains in my time. I'm just genuinely curious. I think the fact that you have such different feelings about this character is part of the beauty of stories and a testament to how complex and smart this particular story is.

Hello friend! First of all, thank you for your ask -- I love talking about my fictional faves, so there’s no need to apologize at all! There are definitely people out there who have already posted much more cohesive and succinct character analysis for JGY, but I’ve sat down for a bit to find an answer to the question of why I, personally, like him so much. I ended up finding six possible ways to answer this question, which I’ll list below and then go into (a lot) more detail under the cut. Hope you enjoy!

1) I like him because his motivations as a villain are complex and understandable

2) I like him because there’s no easy solution to his conflicts

3) I like him because he interacts with the story in a unique way

4) I like him because when we see him on top of his game, it’s fun to watch

5) I like him because LXC likes him

6) JGY is very small and has dimples

So, onward! (2.7k)

1) I like him because his motivations as a villain are complex and understandable

One possible way of looking at JGY is that throughout the entire story, his end goal is to eliminate all of the Jin family and come out on top as sect leader, chief cultivator and most powerful person in the cultivation world. However, I personally find it more intriguing to think that his specific plans shifted throughout the story and that he didn’t follow a long con the way NHS did, but that the common ground in everything he does is that he’s motivated by wanting security. Then, everything that he does afterwards is a step-by-step escalation when no matter what he does and how far he comes, his goal is always dangled right in front of him, but ultimately impossible to reach.

When he joins the Nie clan, on a superficial level it seems that this place could offer him the security he wants and needs, especially with NMJ protecting him -- but on the flip side of the coin, no one apart from NMJ and NHS seem to respect him, and his security entirely depends on NMJ’s goodwill. It’s an exteremely fragile position that could probably only ever last for a limited amount of time. Even if JGY never killed the guard captain and wasn’t thrown out of the Unclean Realm, how would the future have looked like for him? NMJ’s life expectancy was low to begin with, and once he had died (of natural causes, in this hypothetical case), NHS wouldn’t have been able to hold the same protective hand over JGY as his brother, and JGY would have become the disrespected advisor to the disrespected clan leader. (On a side note, I personally don’t think JGY released XY to get the yin iron -- I think it makes more sense that he wanted to use XY as bargaining chips against WC, seeing how he goes to free him immediately after WC asks for NMJ to release XY, to save the Unclean Realm and, in extension, his own ass.)

After JGY is thrown out, he’s basically out of options -- it’s go big or go home, because which other clan would take him in now? So he sets his sight on being recognized by JGS once more, and in order to succeed, he derives the plan of becoming a spy under WRH and do something so “heroical” that after the war, JGS has no other choice but to accept him into his clan. And at first, it seems like he succeeds and that he finally gets everything he wished for -- his father recognizes him as a son and gives him a position, he’s part of the Jin clan, he has power, he’s secure! But then it turns out that he was wishing on the monkey’s paw. His father doesn’t truly recognize him, and even in the Jin clan he’s disrespected (by JGS, by Madam Jin, by Jin Zixun), he doesn’t truly hold power (he just has to do whatever JGS tells him to), and he’s not secure (JGS instrumentalizes him because he’s useful to him right now, but does that mean he’ll be useful forever? So there’s a constant threat there).

I think the only reason JGS officially adopts JGY is that it allows him to claim the victory over WRH for the Jin clan and to expand his own power. Instead of JGY being recognized, JGS instrumentalizes him from the very first second and to make it worse, he makes JGY his attack dog the same way WRH did. I think the things JGY does under both WRH and JGS are absolutely horrifying, but I can’t help but also feel horrified for him. Under WRH, I think he tells himself that whatever he does is the lesser evil because it’ll end the war quicker, and that it’ll all be worth it in the end, and as a result, he loses parts of his own humanity there. And then under JGS, it’s the same fucked up shit again, except that this time, he also wants so very badly for JGS to value him, and in addition, he’s also completely out of options now. Without wanting to excuse the things he does under JGS, the only alternative at this point is for him to leave the Jin clan and the cultivation world as a whole, and I do think there’s a definite possibility that JGS would have him killed if he did because he knew too much about JGS’s plans.

Without passing judgment on his involvement in JZX and JZX’s deaths, as well as him killing NMJ and JGS for now (the latter being the one thing that I’m personally most horrified of), I don’t see JGY as a villain who enjoys being the villain the way XY does. I think he’s constantly horrified at himself and compartmentalizes to a degree where he’s actually derailing his own plans. Him throwing out XY immediately after killing JGS reads to me as him wanting to close the chapter of everything they did under JGS -- I think he must have acted out of a visceral emotion there or else he wouldn’t have left XY to die at the side of a road so carelessly (and, in effect, allowed for someone to live on with detailed knowledge of his own deeds). After rising to power (and finally, seemingly, really getting the security he’s always wanted), he doesn’t use that power to become WRH 3.0, but instead to do genuinely good things (such as building the watch towers). That’s not supposed to mean that him not being a cruel despot makes up for everything he’s done, but I find it interesting to think about from the perspective of, what kind of person could he have been if this opportunity had been given to him freely -- if his own class and social standing didn’t prevent him from that? I think he’d have become an incredibly powerful cultivator and clan leader if he’d have the same privilege as JZX.

In a way, I see JZX, WC, and JGY as narrative foils. WC shows us who JZX might have become if JGS treated him the same way as WRH treats WC. But, JGS doesn’t -- he shields his own son from this part of the Jin clan, and basically allows him to live in a completely different reality as JGY! JZX’s whole character arc is one of personality development, and becoming a hero, and falling in love -- he doesn’t have a clue about his father wanting to get his hands on XY and the Stygian tiger amulet and arguably about at least part of the war crimes he commits against the Wen clan. It’s not part of his life. In a way, JGY is the sacrifice being made to allow him to live his life unaware because in him, JGS found someone else to do his dirty work.

2) I like him because there’s no easy solution to his conflicts

Sometimes, when you want to be a villain apologist, all you need to do is point at one or a few bits of the story and say, “well if they hadn’t done that...”. (See, for example, Anakin Skywalker -- you wanna write a RotS canon divergence fixit? Just have Obi-Wan come back approximately one hour earlier and you have it, because before Anakin kills the Jedi even the Younglings he’s basically completely redeemable.) With JGY, you don’t get to have that. There’s no single turning point where you could say, “if he had picked the other option, he could have had a happy ending”. And part of the reason for that, which makes him a tragic character in my eyes, is that he crucially lacks options at many turning points.

In order to write a canon divergence AU for JGY where he comes out unscathed and redeemable, you’d have to go pretty far back in the story, and even then, you’d have to work hard to find a solution to his story that doesn’t a) rely on someone saving him (such as: LXC brings him to Cloud Recesses, or: JGS has a change of heart, frees his mother, and sends them a comfortable monthly pension), b) having him be dependent on someone else’s goodwill (such as: staying in the Unclean Realm in a delicate position).

If we don’t want to go back right to the very beginning or change fundamental parts of the story, well... As I’ve mused about above, if we let him stay in the Unclean Realm, he’d have never reached his goal of security either. If he never became a spy during the Sunshot Campaign, he wouldn’t have been accepted into the Jin clan and would have been out of options. If he never committed the atrocities for JGS, JGS would probably have kicked him out or killed him. (I do think there’s a lot of truth in what JGY tells NMJ in the empathy flashback, on that instance.) If he didn’t kill NMJ, there is a distinct possibility that NMJ would have killed him -- we see him try three times on screen, after all. (I’m leaving out the parts about him being directly responsible for JZX’s and JZX’s death in the show, as well as for controlling the corpses at Nighless City and JYL’s death, because it’s not in the book and I think it takes away from WWX’s character. As for QS’s and their son’s deaths...I personally do not see strong motivation for him to kill them, but in the end, we just don’t know which is, on a side note, a thing I really like about The Untamed/MDZS! Sometimes we just don’t know because the only people who know for sure can’t tell us anymore.) One option could be for him to confide to JZX, bring him over to his own side, and non-violently overthrow JGS, which would be a good and satisfying ending both to his and JZX’s character arcs -- but I also think there’s a high possibility JZX would hold JGY responsible for what he and JGS did, and never trust him with power again.

(Again, one thing I really do not wish to excuse away is how he killed JGS, and I just. Desperately wished he didn’t.)

I’ve been going over and over the possibilites for fix-its and canon divergence AUs, but in the end, I’ve arrived at the conclusion that the only real choice JGY has throughout the story is whether to remove himself from the narrative or stay in it. He could make the choice to give up his mother’s dream, reject his father, and leave cultivation world (and, on a meta level, the story!) to become a “nobody”. (Small side note, though -- living on which skills?) If he doesn’t -- well, as soon as he enters the game, the cards are stacked against him.

To pick up on the meta level comment, I do find it fascinating that in a sense, JGY not only has to struggle for respect and recognition within the story, but that what he does also serves to keep his character part of the story. He could choose to give up and leave (and thus come out of the story redeemable), but then he wouldn’t be part of the story anymore.

3) I like him because he interacts with the story in a unique way

Continuing with the last point, JGY interacts with the story in two unique ways that distinguish him basically from all the other characters. He’s not actually supposed to be part of the story, but that he basically claws his way in. But that also means that his class and social status cannot be removed from any of the conflicts he encounters in universe -- they’re at the heart of all of them. In the empathy flashback, he says to NMJ, “You always scold me for indecent scheming. You always say that you are just and straight [...] A decent man shouldn’t resort to devious stratagems. [...] You’re of noble birth and have profound cultivation. What about me? How can I be the same? First, I don’t have the foundation of cultivation. No one has ever taught me that since I was a child! Second, I don’t have any background. Do you think that my position is very solid in the Jin clan of Lanling?” What I find so intriguing about this scene is that he’s right when he says he’s different from the others both in text and on a meta level because most of the other characters are never faced with the same decisions and have a natural place within the story (apart, to some degree, WWX and XY, where also interesting parallels can be drawn). And the other characters are, in a way, self-righteous to judge him when almost none of them come out of the story without blood on their hands -- WWX’s revenge, JC torturing demonic cultivators after WWX’s death, and so on...The entire cultivation world (even NMJ! even LXC!) were complicit in the war crimes against the Wen. But when the cultivation world turns against JGY, they are the most appalled by the things I as a viewer would be the most lenient towards (murdering JGS), and don’t care at all about the thing that horrifies me the most (murdering the sex workers).

There’s an interesting post by @pumpkinpaix​ analysing how class dynamics work in the story, which I highly recommend! I don’t want to repeat what has been said there already in much better ways than I can, but among other things, it makes some really interesting points about how much JGY’s class is tied with his motivations.

4) I like him because when we see him on top of his game, it’s fun to watch

Aside from any analysis, part of the reason why I like him so much is that when he’s acting as a villain, he’s just so much fun to watch. When WWX breaks into his vault in paperman form and JGY has approximately 5 minutes to get rid of the head, the torture bench (?) and anything suspicious, contact and inform Su She, run to a different building and come back, and nonetheless he manages to convince everyone but WWX and LWJ that he’s the victim in this situation, it’s just. Peak entertainment? For a short time, he’s on top of the game, and then he’s backed into a corner and becomes sloppy, and finally loses it all due to sentimentality (if he didn’t want to take his mother’s body with him and say goodbye to LXC, I’m sure he could have fled the country). I think Zhu Zanjin did an amazing job as an actor to portray how JGY is constantly assessing everything, how 23638 emotions flicker over his face in half a second, how his whole body language shows the constant anxiety and pressure and stress and fear he’s under, and how we actually get to see in his microexpressions when JGY chooses a path and commits to the acting and emotional manipulation to follow it through.

5) I like him because LXC likes him 

Here’s a secret: Actually, LXC is my favourite character. And LXC loves JGY a lot. So I’m kind of contractually obliged to at least love JGY a little bit as well?

On a more serious note, I’m very intrigued in their relationship because I do think what they had was genuine. I view it as two people being very open and honest and true with each other, while placing a lot of things outside the brackets and crossing them out. LXC even says that he was aware of some things JGY did (which ones? how? I need to know) but that he justified them to himself. I think they both realised that they could have had something very special, but under the given circumstances, LXC wouldn’t have been able to help JGY (see: point 2) even if he knew everything. Still, they were obviously very close and trusted each other as much as they could. I think in the end, when LXC seemed to have decided to stay and die with him, JGY pushed him away because he was the only genuinely good part of his life, and he felt like he couldn’t rightfully deprive the world of LXC. It’s all very tragic, and I’m very intrigued to explore what they could have been in a slightly softer world.

6) JGY is very small and has dimples

I can only speak for myself, but when I was watching, I was so prone at any point to believe in him no matter what was revealed. Look at him! Could this man do something wrong?

[ibijau]

Futures Past pt8 / On AO3

Meng Yao's future is dealt with.

To say that Lan Qiren was disappointed in his nephew for helping Nie Huaisang escape into Yunping City would have been an understatement. It was made quite clear to Lan Xichen that he would face punishment of his own for this misbehaviour. Real punishment, too, not just copying texts as had become standards for small infractions. Still, Lan Qiren listened to that tale of a corrupt merchant scamming people with fake manuals, which greatly irritated him, and thus forced sect leader Huang to care as well and deal with it immediately.

It was wrong to think maliciously of anyone without proof, and even more so if the person was an elder. Yet as they all walked toward the market Lan Xichen couldn’t shake the feeling that had he been alone when news of that crooked merchant reached him, Huang Quiling might not have cared enough to do anything about it. After all, he hadn’t asked Lan Xichen for any details about this business, and instead appeared intent on continuing his conversation with Jiang Fengmian about borders and trade.

Lives were on the line, Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao’s futures depended on this day, and nobody cared. 

They didn't care because they couldn't know, of course, but logic wasn't helping Lan Xichen's ever growing anxiety. He only calmed down when they all reached the place where the others were waiting, and found that everyone of any importance was still where he had left them. 

While Lan Xichen was gone, things had changed a little in the market. Most of the earlier crowd had dispersed, tired of waiting for more entertainment, and the market street was almost back to normal. Those few curious folks who remained were trying to inconspicuously listen in as Nie Huaisang chatted with, or rather at poor Meng Shi. The unfortunate woman looked deeply uncomfortable, but didn't dare openly disrespect the young master who had confirmed her son's potential for cultivation by walking away.

She couldn't leave yet, anyway, not until she'd gotten her money back for those fake cultivation manuals. From what Lan Xichen could see, Jiang Cheng and Meng Yao were taking care of that, the two of them counting money with that crooked merchant. Here and there Meng Yao would glance at Nie Huaisang, as if something he said attracted his attention, but each time Jiang Cheng brought his attention back to the task at hand.

When Lan Xichen and his elders came close enough to hear, the distress made sense: Nie Huaisang, after all this time, was still discussing the many failings of Jin Guangshan. Lan Xichen wished he were surprised, but there really was that much gossip going around about that man. Most people just didn't usually discuss all of it at once out of respect for a sect leader.

“And then, da-ge said that Jin zongzhu brought in dancers,” Nie Huaisang was saying to a rapt audience, insensitive to the discomfort of Meng Shi next to him. “Da-ge said it was getting embarrassing to watch when Jin Furen arrived, and she made such a scene because apparently her husband had promised to consult her about all the entertainments at the banquet but he brought the dancers without tell her. So then, she… oh, already?”

Nie Huaisang, so cheerful while telling his story, turned a little pale at the sight of Lan Qiren. He looked around for something to hide him from his teacher’s angry glare, and had to settle for slipping behind poor Meng Shi. Lan Xichen refrained from rolling his eyes, and directed his elders' attention where it was actually needed. 

“Here is the man,” Lan Xichen announced, motioning toward the merchant. “He has been selling fake cultivation manuals to people.”

“Fake talismans as well,” Jiang Cheng said, lifting a few before crumbling them in his hand. “And he has been doing this for a while. How long, did you say?”

“We started buying from him last year,” Meng Yao explained with a polite bow toward the older cultivators. “But he started coming to the market the year before that, and already offered the same wares. We assumed he had received permission to sell those items, since...”

Meng Yao trailed off, glancing toward sect leader Huang before bowing deeper as if in apology.

Strictly speaking, no sect could be expected to be aware of and to deal with every crook that operated in their territory, so Huang Quiling couldn't be blamed for that situation. At the same time, it would be considered shameful for any sect to have someone selling fakes in its own hometown of all places, and for so long. It spoke of unreliability on their part if people would rather go to a nobody on the market, or else it meant that they priced their services much too high for common people. It also meant they didn't care about commoners, who surely had to have complained about that merchant before. Either way, it wasn't a good look for Huang Quiling, and he would have to act properly to clean this stain on his reputation.

But instead of scolding the merchant or threatening him, Huang Quiling only had eyes for Meng Shi, who was glaring at him defiantly.

“So it's you again,” sect leader Huang muttered. “Meng Shi! Haven’t I told you to stop bothering cultivators?” he turned to the other two sect leaders and gave a small apologetic bow. “I’m sorry that your boys got caught up in this. Meng Shi is just a local whore who’s convinced herself that her bastard has what it takes to be a cultivator. Completely delusional, the boy will never amount to anything. You can't judge that merchant's wares just because the bastard of a whore didn't become an immortal from reading it. I'm unsure the boy can even read.”

Meng Shi, proud as a queen until then, went pale. Lan Xichen felt her shock and horror as if they were his own. He turned to glance at his uncle, worried he might side with Huang Quiling, but to his relief Lan Qiren instead appeared annoyed at the sect leader. It was probably only the coarse language that he disapproved of, and the public nature of this confrontation which he must feel stained all their reputations, yet Lan Xichen felt emboldened anyway.

“Huang zongzhu, have you tested Meng gongzi?” he asked. “We checked on him, and found he has potential.”

“What would mere boys know about these things?” Huang Quiling snapped at him. “Which one of you tested him?”

Lan Xichen hesitated, and glanced at the other boys. He hadn’t come anywhere near Meng Yao yet, and couldn’t lie about that. But if he said it was Nie Huaisang who had checked on Meng Yao, and after his horrible performance at the Night Hunt the day before, it wouldn’t be much of an endorsement. Lan Xichen himself only trusted Nie Huaisang’s assessment because he knew from that other future what sort of cultivation genius Meng Yao was.

“I’m the one who checked on him,” Jiang Cheng boldly lied. Or perhaps he really had checked, dubious as well of Nie Huaisang's assessment, because he continued: “For someone not born from gentry, his potential is not to be dismissed. It might be on par with Yunmeng Jiang's first disciple, if he were just taught properly.”

Huang Quiling, so disdainful a moment before, lost all of his confidence. He glanced at Jiang Fengmian whose face showed no particular expression, except perhaps mild curiosity now that Wei Wuxian had been mentioned. Lan Xichen wasn't sure what to make of that. He hadn’t often been near Jiang Fengmian except at the occasional discussion conference, and of course in the other future they had never gotten to work together as sect leaders. According to gossip, Jiang Fengmian was something of a pushover, who loved quiet and peace more than he cared about justice, but on occasion he could show strength of character if the mood hit him.

"What does his skill matter, with a mother like that?" Huang Quiling claimed, refusing to admit defeat. "No self respecting sect would knowingly take in the son of a whore. It'd be like teaching a pig to walk on two legs, dressing it in silk, and calling it human."

"People ought to be judged on their actions rather than their origins," Lan Xichen retorted, which caused sect leader Huang to glare at him with bulging eyes, his face dark with a rage so strong it robbed him of his words. Even without looking, Lan Xichen knew that his uncle too had to be shocked, that there would be hell to pay for this later. But then, if he was going to be punished, he might as well go all the way. "Just because you don't have the talent to teach someone,” he said, “don't assume a skilled teacher can't do it either."

Huang Quiling looked on the verge of having a Qi deviation, gaping and frothing at the mere boy who dared to insult him so openly. He wasn't the only one to stare, either. Nie Huaisang, the Jiangs, the Mengs, and above all Lan Qiren were looking at Lan Xichen as if he'd suddenly grown a second head.

A very rude second head, at that.

Lan Xichen just couldn't help it. Back in that awful future, the man he would have become had also been enraged and saddened at the unfairness of the world, particularly with regards to Meng Yao. If people hadn't judged him so harshly for something he had no control over, if instead they had taken notice of his skill, of his hard working personality, of his determination…

In that future, Lan Xichen had never dared to speak up, believing in the virtues of inaction and of leading by example, the way he'd been taught to behave. So far in this current life his attempts at being more active hadn't really worked so well, only ensuring that Nie Huaisang made a terrible friend in Su She and started hating Lan Xichen much earlier, but maybe this time, just maybe...

“Lan-xiansheng, your nephew is rather opinionated for a boy his age,” Huang Quiling complained. “I have heard a great deal how well behaved the young heir to Gusu Lan is, but it appears some reputations are undeserved.”

“My nephew will be dealt with,” Lan Qiren calmly replied, which dampened Lan Xichen's moment of rebellion more than anger could have. “And he will present excuses to you. Right now, Xichen.”

“But Lan gongzi's right!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, coming out from his hiding place being Meng Shi. Under Lan Qiren's glare he shivered, but didn't give up. “I mean, he's right at least to ask if Meng gongzi was tested,” he mumbled. “And he's right to say it's not fair if nobody will teach him just because of his family! I've read our histories, you know. I know people didn't want to teach some butcher any cultivation because it's unclean work, and now we're a big sect. Isn't it the same? And it's not just us, right?”

His eyes darted toward Jiang Fengmian, who smiled at the unsaid accusation.

The official history said that Yunmeng Jiang had been founded by a group of rogue cultivators. They had tired of wandering, and established themselves in a small port which soon thrived thanks to their presence and influence. As far as founding stories went, it was a very respectable one.

The less official story was that their founder had been the leader of a band of thieves who had picked up a trick or two and figured that cultivation paid better than robbery. Lan Xichen had never been interested enough in the subject to do any research, but he had a cousin with a taste for history who swore that annals from that period corroborated the second version more than the first. If so, it wasn't much better than being descended from a prostitute, though enough time had passed that it didn't matter so much anymore.

“I see my nephew won't be the only one who needs to be dealt with,” Lan Qiren remarked in an icy voice. Nie Huaisang, having used up all of his courage in standing up to his teacher, hid again behind Meng Shi, trying to make himself small.

“Boys must stand for something, it's what youth is for,” Jiang Fengmian replied with good humour, before gesturing toward Meng Yao. “Come here, boy. Let's see what all the fuss is about.”

“Jiang zongzhu, you're not serious!” Huang Quiling exploded. “That boy is just...”

“I'm only curious. If his proximity is intolerable, then perhaps you might help my son check those manuals to see if they are real or fake. Jiang Cheng, help Huang zongzhu while we deal with this side of the problem.”

Huang Quiling went pale from rage at being ordered around in that manner, but with Yunmeng Jiang the larger and more respectable sect, he still obeyed. He stomped toward the merchant's stall in a manner Lan Xichen found lacking in the dignity to be expected of a sect leader. Meng Yao, for his part, hesitated to obey Jiang Fengmian's order until Jiang Cheng pushed him forward. Huang Quiling radiated hatred when Meng Yao passed by him on his way to the other sect leaders. He looked as if he might have tried something, or said some other insults, but Meng Yao wisely made sure to leave as much space as possible between the two of them, which wasn't easy in a crowded market street.

“Come closer, child,” Jiang Fengmian requested when Meng Yao hesitantly stopped a few steps away from him. “I am going to put my hand on you to check your meridians. It might feel a little odd... but if my son tested you, you know that already, hm?”

Meng Yao nervously nodded glancing back toward his mother who smiled encouragingly. He only shivered a little when Jiang Fengmian put one hand over his heart, and even less so when Lan Qiren did the same after being invited to do so by Jiang Fengmian.

“I suppose the children have a point,” Lan Qiren conceded, his expression turning somewhat warmer. “How old are you, boy?”

“I'm sixteen, Lan-xiansheng.”

Instantly, Lan Qiren's expression darkened again.

“Too old then. If you'd been two or three years younger... and even then it would have been difficult. It's best to start young.”

Meng Yao's shoulders slumped down at the news, while all of Lan Xichen's hopes were crushed. He knew that his sect preferred younger disciples, though he suspected it had less to do with actual cultivation, and more with the fact that children took to discipline better than teenagers. Still, he had hoped that Meng Yao, with his potential... but Lan Qiren's word was final in these matters, with only their sect leader having a right to contradict him. Meng Yao couldn't be brought into Gusu Lan.

Which meant another option would have to be considered.

With dread curling in his guts and a choking sensation tightening his throat, Lan Xichen looked at Nie Huaisang still half hidden behind Meng Shi, and found the other boy staring right back at him. Nie Huaisang no longer appeared as furious at him as he had been before, but that might have been because he was preparing his own move, ready to ruin all of Lan Xichen's efforts. Nie Huaisang opened his mouth, surely to offer again that Meng Yao be sent to Qinghe, but missed his chance to speak.

“Yunmeng Jiang has never looked down on older disciples,” Jiang Fengmian said with a pleasant smile. “It can be a challenge to learn cultivation with a late start, but anyone who cannot take a challenge has no place teaching in the Lotus Pier. Sixteen... it could be worse. One of my own shidi was in his thirties when he joined us, and still did well enough for himself.”

Lan Xichen shivered, his body tensing further at this proposition.

Perhaps it was because he knew already, but the resemblance between Meng Yao and his father, between him and his half-brother also, was quite striking to him. It was possible that Jiang Fengmian hadn’t noticed, but unlikely when he often dealt with Jin Guangshan. Even if he really saw nothing, his wife was well known to be a very close friend to Madam Jin. There was no way Madam Yu wouldn’t notice that their newest disciple resembled Jin Guangshan, and since she was said to be a tyrant and the true ruler of Yunmeng Jiang…

“Are you sure this is wise?” Lan Qiren asked. “Even if that boy can be taught, his family…”

“His mother taught him well enough that he would take the defence of a stranger even in a fight he couldn’t win,” Jiang Fengmian said. “Or so your nephew said before. A good heart is what matters.”

“But half of Yunping City could be his father,” Huang Quiling argued, who'd paid more attention to their conversation than to the cultivation manuals he was meant to inspect. “From the lowest beggar to any drunk merchant with too much money to waste.”

“His father is a cultivator,” Meng Shi said, striding to come at her son's side. “He said he would return for A-Yao, but…” She glanced at Nie Huaisang who had followed her to hide again behind her. He had shared so much gossip earlier, it would have been hard for her to keep her hopes up. She sighed. “I only want for my son to live up to his potential. If he can be a cultivator, then that’s... good enough.”

“Is your son under any contractual obligation?” Jiang Fengmian asked.

“He's not,” Meng Shi vehemently decried. “He's free.”

“That will make things easier. If that is fine with you, I will accompany you two to your place of residence. We can talk about certain details while your son packs, and then he will come to Yunmeng with me. Would that satisfy you?”

Meng Shi, speechless, could only bow deeply before her son's new master. Meng Yao did the same a few times, before hugging his mother, both of them too stunned by this good fortune to even smile. As they held each other's hands tightly, Jiang Fengmian gave his son a few things to do while he was busy.

Huang Quiling too appeared quite stunned by this turn of events, and a good deal less pleased than the Mengs, but he wisely kept quiet about it. Lan Qiren's refusal to teach Meng Yao on account of his age would save Huang Quiling some face, since he could now pretend he had the same issue, but it wouldn't surprise Lan Xichen is the relationship because Yunmeng Jiang and Yunping Huang remained tense for a while.

Lan Xichen couldn't quite feel sorry for it. He didn't like people who thought they were allowed to be rude to their inferiors, and hoped that sect leader Huang would learn something from this experience.

Then, having given his son instructions, Jiang Fengmian walked back to Lan Qiren to bid him goodbye, explaining he expected his schedule for the day to be so changed that they might as well separate for good right then. Lan Qiren agreed, but frowned as he glanced toward Meng Yao.

“That boy's father, with his looks...” he said in a voice low enough the Mengs might not hear, but still clear enough for a cultivator's ears.

Eavesdropping was forbidden, but Lan Xichen found he couldn't help himself. Neither could Nie Huaisang, who leaned toward the two men to hear better.

“Probably. I'll have his mother confirm it,” Jiang Fengmian said in a similar tone. “but it won't change things. Even if my wife doesn't like it, I would be a fool to pass a chance to teach a boy of such potential. And Jin zongzhu would never admit any relation, so it'll all be fine.”

Lan Xichen let out a deep breath, relieved that things had worked out so well after all. He would have preferred to have Meng Yao in the Cloud Recesses, where he could have watched him closely and made sure he didn't go again down the same path as before, but the Lotus Pier wasn't an awful option either. They'd managed to turn someone like Wei Wuxian into an honest enough man, so they might know how to deal with Meng Yao as well.

Even when Lan Qiren reminded his nephew and Nie Huaisang that they would both be harshly punished for their bad behaviour, Lan Xichen found that he didn't mind, not when there was a good chance they had saved Nie Mingjue's life.