#jin ling and lan sizhui are friends who support each other | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gusu-emilu · 3 years

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raven sun: Ch 1/3, 4.6k

for @mdzsbingo prompts “rarepair, mission, hostile, paranoia��

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Ning

Summary: Wen Ning becomes possessed by a vengeful spirit. Unfortunately, Jiang Cheng is the closest target.

Rated M, contains nonsexual but dubconny dom/sub elements in later chapters

Post-Canon

Angst and Eventual Hurt/Comfort

Antagonistic Uncles to Less Antagonistic Uncles

Dom Wen Ning

for those who saw the golden core reveal and said “needs more degradation”

Swordplay with Suibian (and all its implications)

Jiang Cheng’s plans for this night hunt did not include this much physical contact with the Ghost General.

His plans hadn't involved any physical contact with the Ghost General. Nor did they involve his right leg being immobilized by a blast of resentful energy from a tiny figurine, or limping out of a crumbling farmhouse with Wen Ning supporting him, arm around his waist. But most things don’t go the way Jiang Cheng wants them to.

As he and Wen Ning hobble out of the farmhouse, each step sending a jolt of pain up Jiang Cheng’s leg, the figurine releases a fiercer storm of resentful energy. As if angered by their attempt to escape, it kicks up dust and shards of wood that fly around them as the house collapses.

A beam crashes to the floor.

Wen Ning grabs Jiang Cheng by the shoulders and leaps forward. His jump is so powerful that it propels them through the doorway and into the forest a few dozen paces away. Jiang Cheng lands on his stomach, the wind knocked out of him, Wen Ning on top of him. They slide across the forest floor, turning up earth, until they crash sideways into a tree trunk.

Ears ringing, Jiang Cheng draws on his spiritual energy to restore his breath. He tries to stand, impatient to check how the juniors fared the attack, but he can only push up against Wen Ning without going anywhere.

Wen Ning seems to be shielding him with his body, a gesture which is thoroughly insulting.

“Get off me!” Jiang Cheng growls.

He lets his anger grow, feeds on the frustration of being trapped. He ignores the disturbing sliver of comfort that the weight of Wen Ning's body brings.

“Get off!”

The weight lifts.

Jiang Cheng sits up. “Where’s Jin Ling?”

“I’m not sure. Jin-zongzhu and the others escaped the house before us.”

“At least they got out,” Jiang Cheng says tersely.

At least one part of this night hunt is going according to plan: Jin Ling is safe.

And, he must admit, he’s been almost as concerned with keeping the other juniors safe, too. He’d taken the blow of resentful energy for Lan Sizhui, managed to shield him just in time. He’d be injured for nothing if the Lan boy doesn’t make it out of the night hunt alive.

He would’ve thought that perfect Hanguang-Jun’s perfect little child—the “most promising disciple of his generation”—would’ve been able to hold his own on a night hunt. But if Jiang Cheng must run around saving the boy…fine. He’ll do just that.

Jiang Cheng’s right leg is still locked, completely immobile. He makes it to his feet with difficulty, but quickly enough that Wen Ning doesn’t have the chance to help him. Thankfully. A few more overly attentive, patronizing gestures from the Ghost General, and Jiang Cheng might let Zidian demonstrate why Wen Ning ought to keep an appropriate distance.

Calling for his nephew, Jiang Cheng starts to make his way back toward the farmhouse, which is likely little more than ruins by now. He wonders if he’ll ever make it there to find out. He can barely manage to limp, dragging his leg behind him.

“Jiang-zongzhu, let me help—”

“Forget it. Just go ahead of me. See how the juniors are doing.”

Wen Ning just stares at him. When he isn’t ducking his head and looking at his feet, his black eyes have a soul-searching steadiness that is both chilling and disarmingly gentle. It makes Jiang Cheng want to crawl inside of himself.

“…Thank you,” Wen Ning says. “For…A-Yuan—”

“I didn’t do anything for ‘A-Yuan,’” Jiang Cheng snaps, refusing to look at Wen Ning any longer.

Wen Ning remains in place for a few moments. Then he turns and runs away, chains clinking behind him.

Last month, Jiang Cheng had to help him put those chains back on after they got knocked out of place by a demonic boar. A lovely experience for everyone.

By now, Jiang Cheng has figured out that Wen Ning keeps those chains on not just to use a weapon, but also as some strange form of comfort. Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand it. But for some reason, he just knows it’s true.

After so many night hunts, he’s developed a disturbing level of familiarity with Wen Ning’s habits and expressions. It crept up on him slowly, a few threads woven in at a time. Yet another thing that was not part of his plans.

Unfortunately, spending time in each other’s company seems unavoidable. They are both committed to protecting their nephews. If A-Ling must be friends with the Ghost General’s only living relative, Jiang Cheng will just have to grit his teeth and endure it.

At least it’s somewhat useful to know how Wen Ning fights, as it allows them to coordinate their protection of the juniors more easily. But it’s still unnerving to know the finer details, like the exact way Wen Ning likes his chains arranged, as if Jiang Cheng ever wanted to have so much knowledge about the man.

He doesn’t even care about Wen Ning.

And if he owes a debt to Wen Ning—owes a debt to protect what remains of Wen Ning’s family, too—that doesn’t affect his feelings at all.

Doesn’t even enter his thoughts…

* * *

As willing as Wen Ning usually is to defer to others’ judgment, admitting when Jiang Wanyin is right pricks a nerve. Still, they do need to look after the juniors first, and Wen Ning can do that fastest on his own.

Wen Ning also feels a bit guilty leaving Jiang Wanyin behind while he’s wounded—especially when he’d taken that injury for A-Yuan. But there will be time to heal him later.

Maybe it's because he doesn’t have Jiejie anymore, maybe it's because he has A-Yuan to look after, but Wen Ning has become preoccupied with caretaking. Perhaps it’s for good reason. He has the ability to protect others, and he knows the lost medical techniques of the Dafan Wen. What better use for his unnatural existence than to help others? What better way to atone for the past?

He arrives back at the wreckage of the farmhouse, but it’s deserted. He returns to the forest to continue searching for the juniors.

“Wen-qianbei!” he hears from bushes in the forest near the wreckage.

“A-Yuan?”

The juniors nearly leap out of the forest.

“Wen-qianbei!” Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi excitedly call at the same time. They shoot somewhat surprised glares at each other, then hurry over along with A-Yuan and Ouyang Zizhen.

“We’ve been looking for you!” Lan Jingyi says.

“Yeah, we were really worried!” says Ouyang Zizhen.

A-Yuan puts a hand on Wen Ning’s shoulder. Fondness warms him as soon he meets A-Yuan’s gaze.

“Are you alright?” A-Yuan asks.

“Of course,” Wen Ning says, almost wanting to laugh with the relief that washes over him at seeing that everyone seems unharmed. “I’m always alright. I should be asking you.”

The juniors all seem so happy to see him. Even Jin Ling is smiling. He still isn’t quite used to affection from them, especially not from Jin Ling.

“Is everyone okay? Any injuries?” Wen Ning asks.

He’s met with a cheerful chorus of various variations of “We’re fine.”

Except from Jin Ling, whose smile is fading. “Where’s my jiujiu?”

Wen Ning nods over his shoulder. “Close behind. But he needs help getting here.”

Jin Ling flies off to find him.

After Wen Ning has checked the other three juniors for injuries, they start inspecting the ruins of the farmhouse to search for the figurine. But Wen Ning hangs back, a feeling of dread churning inside his chest, clawing at him.

He’d already felt unusually anxious for this night hunt before embarking on it. Still, he’d been able to face it.

But he hadn’t expected the figurine’s spirit to be this powerful.

The rumors about the figurine had all been similar, and had seemed typical for a mid-level vengeful spirit. Recently, a new footpath was created to connect two villages that lay a two-day traveling distance apart, with the abandoned farmhouse as the midpoint. If a lone traveler spent the night in the farmhouse, nothing happened.

But if a group of travelers slept inside, one of them would become possessed. The possessed traveler would accuse their companions of horrible deeds and attempt to murder them all in the name of retribution.

After some research, it was discovered that the family that used to live in the farmhouse had always gotten into fierce arguments—and one day, they all killed each other inside the house. The sole witness was a small figurine of an immortal. The figurine soaked up all the family’s hatred and bloodlust until it developed its own spirit.

And developed an aptitude for possession.

It’s possible that the figurine had destroyed itself when the house collapsed, but unlikely. The juniors will have to dig it up and figure out how to pacify it.

Wen Ning watches from a distance while the juniors search through the ruins. Anxiety continues to churn inside him. It’s different from the nervous excitement he usually feels about night hunts, having never gone on a proper night hunt before his death. And it’s different from his typical parentlike worry for the juniors.

The juniors should be relatively safe confronting the spirit. They have high cultivation levels for their age, and they underwent spirit-calming rituals as infants. Their risk of possession is low.

But Wen Ning is the perfect conduit for possession. To approach a spirit this strong would be like holding a metal rod in a lightning storm.

The memory of fighting against Baxia’s saber spirit still hangs heavy over him. Almost as heavy as what happened in Qiongqi Path. Despite Wei Wuxian having taught him how to maintain some autonomy while in the clutches of resentful energy and spirits, he still has so little control over himself.

He can’t get near this spirit. He could put everyone at danger if he does.

“They’re back!” Ouyang Zizhen calls. The juniors run over to the edge of the forest.

Jiang Wanyin and Jin Ling emerge from the forest. Jiang Wanyin’s leg doesn’t look any better. He’s still dragging it along behind him, with Jin Ling supporting him the way Wen Ning had a few minutes ago.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” A-Yuan says with a small bow. “Thank you for—”

“What are you talking about? I did nothing. Get back to work,” Jiang Wanyin says before he can finish. “The spirit is in that wreckage somewhere. We should deal with it fast before something else happens.”

A-Yuan glances back at Wen Ning, looking a bit disappointed. Wen Ning just shakes his head.

“That means all of you,” Jiang Wanyin says to Jin Ling when his nephew doesn’t move from his side.

With a mix of concern and displeasure, Jin Ling helps Jiang Wanyin over to a tree he can hold for support, then joins the others. The four juniors make to leave, then stop and look over expectantly at Wen Ning when he doesn’t follow.

Wen Ning should help them search for the figurine. Should help them pacify such a dangerous spirit. But anxiety freezes him in place.

A-Yuan seems to notice his discomfort. He smiles and gives Wen Ning a tiny nod, making gratitude swell inside Wen Ning for how perceptive his nephew is.

A-Yuan steps forward. “Wen-qianbei, Jiang-zongzhu, we can complete the rest of the night hunt. Facing the spirit on our own would be valuable experience.”

“We are an ideal team,” Ouyang Zizhen adds.

“Yeah, we can hold our own!” Lan Jingyi chimes in. “The four of us even escaped the spirit’s attack way faster than you guys.”

Jiang Wanyin frowns. A-Yuan shoots a chastising glance at Jingyi.

“You’re right,” Wen Ning says, feeling a bit more relaxed. “You’re all capable enough to handle this. I’ll stay behind to heal Jiang-zongzhu. The two of us will be close by if you need help.”

The juniors head back toward the wreckage.

Jiang Wanyin side-eyes Wen Ning. “Why so eager to let them run off without you? Is the Ghost General scared of a doll?”

His words wouldn’t bother Wen Ning so much if they weren’t absolutely true. “They’re all capable cultivators, and Jin Ling is a sect leader. They’ll be fine without us. But you need to be healed.”

“Worry about them first. I’ll last until the spirit is dealt with—and that’ll happen a lot faster if you put yourself to work.”

“They’ll be safer if both of us are on our feet and ready to help if they call.”

Jiang Wanyin sighs. “Fine.”

He winces as Wen Ning helps him to the ground, his back propped against the tree. Wen Ning kneels beside his injured leg. He lifts Jiang Wanyin’s violet robes and trousers up to his mid-thigh, revealing a black wound traveling from his ankle up to just below his knee.

“It’s a curse mark,” Wen Ning says in disbelief.

The skin hit by the curse is blackened and swollen, the muscle tissue immobilized. Currents of resentful energy snake along the wound’s surface like a second set of veins outside the skin.

It looks just like the curse mark Wei Wuxian transferred to himself from Jin Ling, but worse. Now both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin have received curse marks to protect a boy that the other cares about.

Wen Ning can’t decide whether he finds that surprising or not. He knows that Jiang Wanyin cares fiercely about his family, but he also knows that he isn’t the best at following through on it. And he definitely didn’t know that Jiang Wanyin might care about any member of the Dafan Wen.

He looks up at Jiang Wanyin. “This curse mark won’t disappear until—"

“I know how curse marks work,” Jiang Wanyin snaps.

Wen Ning takes a deep breath and reminds himself that Jiang Wanyin received this wound while protecting A-Yuan. “The curse won’t disappear until the spirit’s grievances are resolved, but I can apply a charmed tourniquet to keep it from spreading up your leg.

“…Alright.”

Reaching into his qiankun sleeve of medical supplies, Wen Ning pulls out the tourniquet and begins tying it around Jiang Wanyin’s leg, just below his knee.

Jiang Wanyin tenses as he continues tying. He isn’t sure if it’s because Jiang Wanyin is in pain, or if he just feels uncomfortable with Wen Ning touching him. Probably both.

“Don’t you need a windlass to tie a tourniquet?” Jiang Wanyin asks. Remarkably, it sounds like a genuine question, not criticism.

“The purpose of this tourniquet isn’t to stop blood flow, and the charm is very effective, so it doesn’t need to be so tight. It actually needs to be a little loose so your qi can flow to the wound and suppress the curse mark.”

“Hm.”

Wen Ning could explain more. Could explain how the charm was cast, how the material of the tourniquet was chosen, how it’s designed to last for hours. He enjoyed learning details like this from Jiejie when he was young, and now he enjoys teaching them to A-Yuan. He rarely has the opportunity to share his knowledge with anyone else.

But the topic of medical operations hangs between him and Jiang Wanyin with an uncomfortable weight.

He tries to fill the silence anyway. “Even if the tourniquet did need to be tight, my arm strength is probably good enough to tie it without a windlass. Not that…not that that’s good medical practice—it’s really bad medical practice, actually—so I wouldn’t do that anyway—”

Jiang Wanyin scoffs and turns away. “Just hurry up.”

Wen Ning finishes tying the tourniquet. “Done. Wait—”

Jiang Wanyin tries to stand up. Wen Ning presses down on his shoulder to keep him in place, which earns him a perplexed glare.

Wen Ning doesn’t want to return to the wreckage just yet. Not when he doesn’t know what to do about his dangerous susceptibility to possession. And Jiang Wanyin is the last person he wants to explain that to.

Thankfully, he has a good reason to stall: Jiang Wanyin still needs more treatment.

“I have some herbs that might be able to weaken the curse,” Wen Ning suggests.

“Fine. After that, you’re coming with me to go solve whatever that doll’s grievances are.”

Wen Ning pulls out a satchel of herbs that, at one time, would've smelled sweet to him. He begins rubbing them on the curse mark as delicately as his clumsy hands can manage, while Jiang Wanyin quite obviously tries not to flinch from pain.

“You aren’t here to heal me,” Jiang Wanyin says suddenly.

Wen Ning looks up, expecting to see Jiang Wanyin scowling. What he sees instead is a surprisingly calm gaze of careful scrutiny.

“You’re scared of something.” Jiang Wanyin continues. He speaks slowly, like it’s a question he isn’t sure he should ask.

Somehow, over the course of these night hunts, Jiang Wanyin has learned to read him a bit too well.

* * *

“Well?” Jiang Cheng says. “Is there some other factor in this night hunt that I don’t know about?”

Wen Ning looks unnerved by the question, but he just continues applying the herbs, swirling them in small, gentle circles—almost caresses—with his fingers. It creates a steady stream of pain that makes Jiang Cheng grind his teeth, but Wen Ning’s touch is light enough that it doesn’t hurt more than necessary.

That alone is enough to eat at Jiang Cheng. That Wen Ning is this careful not to inflict undue pain on him—that Wen Ning is helping him at all—when the man has no reason to care about him. Has no reason to be gentle with him other than out of condescension.

But Wen Ning has let down the mask before. Let his thoughts flow freely. Although Jiang Cheng hates to admit it, Wen Ning has hurt him before.

Since then, Jiang Cheng has tried to drop the mask a second time, to get Wen Ning to reveal the spite he knows lies beneath it, but he can only catch mere glimpses.

He knows he’s hurt Wen Ning, too. Knows he deserves nothing.

Knows Wen Ning despises him.

It would just be nice if Wen Ning acted like it.

“If there’s a reason for you to be scared of something,” Jiang Cheng says, “I think I should be informed of it. Unless you’re implying that I’d be of no use even if I did know.”

Wen Ning's jaw tightens. “I’m scared of being possessed,” he says coldly, without looking up. “I’ve lost control in the past, and I don’t want to lose it again.”

The honest answer catches Jiang Cheng off guard.

Visions of how the Ghost General might have looked like at Qiongqi Path flash through his mind—visions of how he might have looked as he slaughtered dozens of cultivators, as he drenched his hands in Jin Zixuan's blood.

Anger seethes through his veins. But something else rises in him, too.

Something almost like…pity.

Wen Ning lifts Jiang Cheng’s leg slightly to rub the herbs on the underside of his calf. His touch is still agonizingly gentle.

“You seemed fine on every other night hunt,” Jiang Cheng says, unsure how to respond.

“This spirit is especially skilled at possession.”

“If you’re so worried about it, what would you do if the juniors called for us right now? Ignore them and keep hiding?”

Wen Ning pauses, resting his hand on Jiang Cheng’s knee. He stares at the ground, his shoulders hunched. “…I’d go help them.”

“And if you get possessed?”

“A-Yuan knows what to do if that happens.”

“And if ‘A-Yuan’ can’t do anything?”

Wen Ning looks up at him.

“Then you can strike me with Zidian.”

A chill runs down his spine.

He’s struck Wen Ning with Zidian three times before—all in the same night, the night Wen Ning struck him with truth in the form of a sword’s blade.

He would strike Wen Ning with Zidian again if he had to. He wouldn’t hesitate. He knows he wouldn’t.

The only problem is that—

“Zidian can only exorcise spirits from the living,” he says.

The spiritual weapon can’t easily incapacitate Wen Ning either. Normal fierce corpses can be taken out in one blow, but Wei Wuxian, in his infinite brilliance, made Wen Ning several times stronger. Zidian would have to nearly destroy Wen Ning to incapacitate him.

Not that Jiang Cheng would have…hesitations about that. Not if it came to protecting A-Ling.

At least, he tells himself he wouldn’t.

Wen Ning is silent for an uncomfortably long time.

“You’re skilled enough of a cultivator to stop me,” he finally replies.

Jiang Cheng ignores how that makes the tiniest bit of heat rise to his cheeks. Silence envelops them again, and Wen Ning resumes rubbing the herbs into the curse mark.

Jiang Cheng has seen Wen Ning heal the juniors on night hunts before, but he’s never needed to be treated by Wen Ning. It feels strange to depend on him.

The thought gives him an inexplicable urge to kick something. Maybe Wen Ning. Maybe himself. He holds himself back for the sake of sparing himself another leg injury.

“What’s Lan Sizhui’s method to stop you?”

“…It’s not necessary for you to know.”

“If there’s a risk of you losing control and harming my family again, I deserve to know how to prevent it.”

Wen Ning’s expression hardens.

That came out more accusatory than he intended.

As if he cares. As if he was ever able to meet gentleness with anything but a daggered tongue.

“Unless you don’t truly believe I’m capable enough to manage it? Unless that was a lie?” Jiang Cheng continues, his tone biting.

He’s already dug himself a ditch. Might as well look like he intended it. At least dealing with an angry Ghost General is less sickening than receiving his kindness.

Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes. “Or maybe you don’t believe I’m reliable enough?”

“I do believe in your capability,” Wen Ning says sharply. It sounds like an insult. “But this has nothing to do with you, Jiang Wanyin.”

Jiang Wanyin, not Jiang-zongzhu. He’s losing Wen Ning’s respect. Good to know. As if he ever had it.

“Nothing to do with me?”

“No. This is personal, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Personal?” Jiang Cheng leans forward, already regretting the words he’s about to say. “Do you think the death of my sister’s husband isn’t personal for me, too?”

Wen Ning rises to his feet. At this angle, he towers over Jiang Cheng. The smallest bit of fear flares up inside Jiang Cheng’s chest, making him angry at himself for feeling any fear at all.

“I’m sorry,” Wen Ning says, raising his voice. “I’ve been sorry for sixteen years.” He gestures down at Jiang Cheng’s leg. “I’ve done all I can for your wound.”

He walks off, sinking into the forest. Rage and guilt erupt inside Jiang Cheng, biting at him like wolves.

“Wen Ning!”

Feeling every last bit of dignity leave his body, he manages to stand up and limp after him, using his sword like a cane and dragging his cursed leg behind himself. A pit grows in his stomach as he continues calling for Wen Ning.

Wen Ning—the one to apologize and walk away from an argument, something Jiang Cheng could never do. Just like how Wen Ning was the one to save Jin Ling in Guanyin Temple, the one to protect Wei Wuxian until the end. Of course Wen Ning is everything Jiang Cheng couldn’t be. Can’t be.

“The juniors are still at the wreckage!” he yells once he’s deeper in the forest. “Are you such a coward that you’re just going to abandon them?

“They’d be in more danger if I’m nearby,” says a quiet voice overhead.

Wen Ning is sitting in a tree, not bothering to look down.

Jiang Cheng sighs. He’s found Wen Ning, and now what is he going to do? Say he was wrong? Grovel at the base of the tree?

Having spent most of his life picking up broken pieces, always cleaning up Wei Wuxian’s messes, he should be better at putting back together the things he breaks himself. Instead he always cuts himself on the shards.

He thinks of how Wen Ning saved his life once. Thinks of how much A-Jie liked Wen Ning. The pit in his stomach deepens.

“Back then, maybe you weren't able to stop it from happening. I don't know,” he says, painfully aware of how much he’s stumbling through this already.

No response.

“But you need to snap out of it. You fought against Baxia’s possession in Guanyin Temple."

Still no answer. He'd rather just shake Wen Ning out of the tree at this rate. He grits his teeth, shoves down his impatience, and forces himself to keep talking.

"Look, you could’ve killed Jin Ling. But you didn’t. This figurine spirit can’t be any stronger than Baxia. You can fight it.”

Wen Ning shifts slightly.

“If you give up on this night hunt and the juniors…if you give up on Lan Sizhui—”

That gets Wen Ning to look down at him. He resists the way his body wants to shrivel up under that critical gaze.

“You’ve gotten control back before.” Jiang Cheng swallows and turns his face away. “You could do it again.”

You’ve saved A-Ling plenty of times. I trust you with him, gets stuck in his throat.

Wen Ning still doesn’t speak. The restless silence of the forest is too uncomfortable for Jiang Cheng to keep his mouth shut.

“What you can’t be doing is giving up on protecting the juniors! If you’re not an ally on these night hunts, then I’ll have to consider you a—”

“If it came to it, I would still face the spirit.” Wen Ning’s voice is quiet. Tranquil.

Jiang Cheng scoffs. "Good."

Wen Ning leaps down from the tree, landing with a loud thud. It’s a wonder his legs don’t break with the way he always throws himself around, as if he doesn’t care about looking after his body. Jiang Cheng finds himself startled that he wants to tell Wen Ning to stop doing that.

“I should still keep my distance from the wreckage if I can,” Wen Ning says. “Thank you for…I’m…I’m surprised that you—"

“Well, then don’t be so damn surprised,” Jiang Cheng hurries to interrupt before he has to hear more of Wen Ning’s deadly honesty. “We’re going back to the edge of the forest now.”

Wen Ning doesn’t try to support Jiang Cheng while they walk back. He isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but he’s grateful for the space either way.

Just before they reach the last line of trees, a loud boom comes from the direction of the wreckage, followed by shouts from the juniors.

Jiang Cheng tries not to panic.

Even if things get messy, the juniors can handle themselves.

He forces himself to limp faster—

“Wen-qianbei!”

“Jiujiu!”

Fuck!

“Jin Ling!” Jiang Cheng calls.

He tries to run toward them, but he can only limp so fast. He unsheathes Sandu to fly instead.

Can’t fly.

The damn curse wound must be distorting his spiritual power—

He turns to Wen Ning. “Come on!—”

His stomach sinks.

Wen Ning is frozen in place, staring blankly ahead.

Jiang Cheng grabs him by the arm. It trembles beneath his hand. “Wen Ning! We need to move!”

“I...I…”

“Now!”

Wen Ning sinks to his knees.

The juniors' cries grow louder.

Fuck.

#mdzsbingo #mdzsnet #theuntameddaily #chengning #jiang cheng #wen ning #ningcheng #mdzs #cql #the untamed #emilu creations #emilu fics

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ashayatreldai · 3 years

Text

His Face - Fic

Find this on AO3 or read it here.

Among Su She’s effects is found a bundle of sketches of Hanguang Jun, which inspires a lifetime of exchanges between Wei Wuxian and his husband.

***

Wei Wuxian yawned, barely remembering to cover his mouth with the back of his hand. It wasn’t as though Lan Wangji minded; he still marveled at his husband’s calm acceptance of his less than perfect behavior. And it wasn’t as if he were really tired. They’d been back in Cloud Recesses only a handful of days and most of that time Wei Wuxian had been able to rest, to wander the back hill, to play with the rabbits, to tease Sizhui and Jingyi, to play Chenqing to the birds and the rainbows the sun cast in the light mists of Gusu’s waterfalls. No, he supposed. He yawned because he was warm, well-fed, secure and safe, and in the best company a person could desire, let alone have all to himself.

Lan Wangji sat on the other side of the desk, and in spite of the hour was still working through the backlog of mail which had accumulated in his absence.

“What’s this?” A bundle of papers caught Wei Wuxian’s eye, and on impulse he reached and drew them out of the stack.

Lan Wangji looked up. “After the events at Gyanyin Temple, members of the Lan Clan disposed of the bodies, sealed the coffin in which Red Blade Master and Jin Guangyao are buried, and otherwise put the site in order. Among these activities, Su She’s body was searched and his personal effects catalogued. A quiankun pouch was found, containing an assortment of items. This bundle of papers was also in the pouch. I assume it was forwarded to me because I am the subject.”

Wei Wuxian leafed through the pages. It was a collection of sketches in a variety of media, all of Hanguang Jun’s face, mostly sketches of his eyes. They weren’t half bad: the artist had captured the micro-expressions which concealed everything but hid nothing of Hanguang Jun’s thoughts. But as he examined the pile, he experienced an increasing sensation of wrongness.

“I wonder what he was trying to capture. I mean, here’s ice, here’s anger. I think this one is arrogance or being haughty; and this one has to be indifference. And this,” he huffed out with a half smile, “has got to be ‘you are the scum beneath my shoe’.” That was a micro-expression Wei Wuxian had seen often on Lan Wangji’s face when they were young, as he kept poking and prodding until the carefully cultivated mask his friend wore finally slipped. He spread out the pictures, his eyes searching for the clues he knew he’d find. “Why would he want to draw these things and exclude others? I know a lot of people are afraid of you, Lan Zhan, because you look cold and imperturbable. But anyone who knows you and watches closely can see that there’s so much more to you than that.”

“Su She was cast out of the Lan Clan because he betrayed our secrets to Wen Xu. He was known for being desirous of imitating me – poorly. We can only speculate as to his motivations otherwise,” Lan Wangji commented quietly.

“Mmmm,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “He hated you, but he also idolized you. Who’s to say what came first? Whatever,” he said, shaking his head. “The fact he captured your eyes with these strong antagonistic expressions suggests he hated himself, and perhaps wanted to make you the one who hated him in his own mind. It’s easier to hate someone than to live with the pain of feeling rejected or not even noticed.”

“I never hated Su She.”

“No, I don’t think I’ve ever known you to hate anyone, Hanguang Jun.” Wei Wuxian felt a surge of protective affection for this dear man. “Not even those who deserve it. Su She unfairly judged you and didn’t know you at all. Still, when you think about what people say about me, the scary deranged Yiling Patriarch, anything’s possible in terms of what people do to themselves to justify hatred. Blargh!” He made claws with his hands and pulled a terrifying crazy Yiling Laozu face.

“Wei Ying.” There was amusement dancing in Lan Wangji’s eyes. “You do not scare me.”

Sometimes Lan Wangji could abruptly light a fuse in Wei Wuxian and leave him smoking. He laughed and crawled around to Lan Wangji’s side of the table, climbing into his lap to sit with one leg either side of Lan Wangji’s waist. His husband’s hands came up to support his lower back. He put both hands loosely around Lan Wangji’s neck.

Lan Wangi had removed his silver coronet and tendrils of hair that usually were wound up to hold the headpiece in place trailed either side of his face, making him look softer and younger and so much more vulnerable.

For some time they sat simply looking at each other. Wei Wuxian took in the flawless face, reaching one hand to trace Lan Wangi’s eyebrow, feeling the soft hairs brush beneath his fingerpads. He gently followed the line of an eyelash, delighting in the butterfly kiss as his husband blinked. Out over the swell of zygomatic bone, cupping around his perfectly shaped ear – he really was like exquisitely carved jade, warm, living, and here. He cupped Lan Wangji’s cheek, his thumb finding the hollow between nose and lip and the soft breath of life it held. And those lips, now quirked in a loving bow.

He pulled himself up to kiss the forehead ribbon, to plant gentle brushes of his lips over all the places he’d touched. When he came to Lan Wangji’s mouth, he finally let go, giving all his worship as they joined tongues, teeth, desire, losing themselves in each other.

They released the kiss, and held each other, Wei Wuxian’s head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. Between them energy sizzled – it would be sated later, but it was sufficient for now to enjoy the beatitude of the moment, the closeness, words unnecessary to communicate the depth of heart each held for the other.

***

Wei Wuxian was traveling. His absence itched acutely just under Lan Wangji’s skin, a constant worry. He rued the duty which pinned him in his current dual roles: Chief Cultivator and Acting Sect Leader, keeping him grounded at Cloud Recesses instead of off night hunting with his husband.

It was necessary, he knew, for Wei Wuxian to move; the whole man was a study in movement, in ceaseless energy. He knew the staid and stable pattern of life at Cloud Recesses felt like a box to Wei Ying, and while he could endure for a season, he needed more than what life in Gusu offered, even with rabbits and a back hill to wander for hours.

But oh, he missed him. And he worried too: who would defend him when he had so little sense of self-preservation?

This journey, Wei Wuxian had set off to attempt to mend things with Jiang Cheng before making his way up to Lanling to see Jin Ling. One of the highest values for the Lan was family, and Lan Wangji understood the deep need his husband had for those connections – had encouraged it.

It was just as well Wei Wuxian had mastered the butterfly talisman (and enhanced it). Morning and night he would wait for the silvery wings to alight with Wei Wuxian’s messages of love and thought to whisper through his qi. Sometimes they were profound, poetry. Sometimes playful; sometimes just a kiss. Lan Wangji came to depend on those messages, and on being able to send some back himself: I love you, I miss you, come home soon.

He sighed. This morning had grown tedious. Today was the end of the accounting period for Clan matters, and while there was staff to manage the minutiae of bookkeeping, as Acting Clan Leader LanWangji was examining the records before tomorrow’s visit from the auditor. Not for the first time he lamented his brother’s seclusion, necessary though it was. Dealing with finances was the part of the role that least appealed to Lan Wangji; he felt a headache brewing and was contemplating taking a break when there was a knock on the door.

“Hanguang Jun, mail has arrived,” the disciple said, handing him a bundle.

“Thank you. Please ask the kitchen to send me some lunch,” he requested, taking the pile.

The disciple departed, and he began to sort the items: those about Clan matters, those for the Chief Cultivator. One letter stood out, a simple scroll tied with a red thread. Putting all the other mail aside he carefully opened the scroll and took a breath.

It was an ink painting of his eyes, creased ever so slightly in an expression of amusement. On his brow the forehead ribbon glinted silver, his hair loosely framing his cheeks. He instantly recognized the artist, tracing a finger over the brush strokes as if that touch could unite him with the hand that had made them.

“Wei Ying,” he said, infinite fondness filling him.

Throughout the rest of the day he kept the picture on his desk, glancing at it from time to time. And when it was time to turn his attention to other things, he gently placed the picture in his sleeve to take back to the jingshi.

Every couple of days another picture would arrive. This too became something Lan Wangji expected, an important and significant marker in his day, each picture a symbol that he was one day closer to seeing, holding, touching, tasting Wei Wuxian again.

***

300 years later

Clan Leader Lan Shuoxiao had come to the Forbidden Room in the Library Pavilion seeking a book she’d known had been here years earlier. Back then she’d been a mischievous girl seeking a way to prank Shufu, and she vividly remembered the green cover. Lan filing methods hadn’t changed in hundreds of years, so that wretched book had to be here somewhere.

She moved a pile of dusty scrolls, cursing under her breath when she knocked a stack of bamboo books which went tumbling over the floor. Patience, she told herself strictly. Breathe and control.

Feeling a little more composed, she bent to restore the mess to order. A red cover caught her eye on one of the lower shelves. She’d not seen that before, and she was sure she’d have recognized it if she had. It was quite distinct, a deep red, tied shut with of all things a Clan ribbon.

Intrigued, she opened the volume, carefully untying the ribbon and leafing through the pages. Page after page were pictures of a handsome man’s eyes: crinkled in delight, weeping with sorrow, dancing with affection, on and on they went. Sometimes the whole of the man’s lovely face was shown: in some he wore the elaborate silver coronet her ancestors had favored, in others his long tresses floated around his face, and the artist had clearly captured a treasured, private, and vulnerable moment.

Around half way through the volume the pictures changed: a spritely young man in black, his underrobe a vivid red (the same colour as the cover of the book, as it happened – and she wondered whether it was indeed cut from the same cloth), a red ribbon in his hair, holding a black dizi. This array of pictures had a different hand, a more understated eye which captured the young man’s energetic aura, as well as pensive moments – the youth had clearly been to hell and back, and Lan Shuoxiao could almost feel the immense love with which the person who’d drawn these pictures had made each stroke.

There were so many! Page sized varied: a compendium gathered together of odd scraps. The last page bore an inscription:

In loving memory of my parents, Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, Hanguang Jun, and Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian, Yiling Laozu. The true faces of both, in their own hands. Love letters sent to dearest him who was, alas, away. Lan Yuan, Lan Sizhui, Chief Cultivator.

Clan Leader Lan Shuoxiao’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. Clan records declared Hanguang Jun’s partner’s name to have been Lan Ying, Lan Wuxian. How had they never made the connection before that “Lan Wuxian” was in fact the infamous Yiling Patriarch? Given that the two had Lan Yuan, Lan Sizhui’s name inscribed under theirs as offspring, Lan Shuoxiao and many others had assumed Lan Wuxian to be female.

She looked closely again at one of the pictures of the young man in black and red. He didn’t look like the evil dictator of legend. He looked mischievous and full of life, an impression caught in the laughing smile, and so… youthful.

Not that demonic cultivation was these days the issue it had been for her ancestors; these days cultivation was emphasized to be about harnessing the yin of negative energy and the yang of positive energy, holding them in balance and using each appropriately. She doubted the people who had so feared and hated the Yiling Patriarch would be able to recognize as righteous the way all cultivators now practiced as a matter of course.

As for Hanguang Jun… She flicked back to a picture in which his whole upper body had been captured as he played guqin, a study of someone completely caught up and focused on the music, almost in ecstasy. Another private moment revealing something about the essence of the man. He was so beautiful, captivating. And such a contrast from all the other images she’d ever seen of him. Hanguang Jun had a reputation even now, 150 years after he had Ascended, for being cold, somewhat forbidding, distant, just, merciful and benevolent, untouchable, unrivalled in almost all fields. That was how he appeared at the Gate of Gusu, carved of jade, opposite his brother, Zewu Jun, the famous Twin Jades of Gusu Lan now its guardians, their representations inscribed and infused with talismans and ward tethers. Rumor was that no evil could come to Cloud Recesses as long as the Twin Jades stood at the gates. How was anyone to reconcile that formidable image with this? This picture of a very human, vulnerable, gentle man, who was clearly so very much loved by the artist who drew him.

Lan Shuoxiao found herself on the edge of tears. It felt like an injustice, looking at these intimate sketches, that history had forgotten Wei Wuxian as little more than a footnote. And that the righteous Hanguang Jun had been immortalized as a stiff, cold and distant deity rather than someone’s beloved whose heart beat wildly in his chest in longing, and whose blood was warm and red and thrummed with reciprocated affection. She wondered how they had found one another, wondered about the history in which they must have been caught up: how did it affect them? What trials had they passed through before they finally found their way to each other’s arms?

She reverently closed the volume, her original mission in coming here put aside. Thoughtfully, she collected up the scrolls and bamboo books and reordered them, and then closed the Forbidden Room.

***

Several months later a new scene was depicted on the climbing path around the residences of Gusu: a beautiful, crowned Lan sat cross-legged in the back hill meadow, covered in a blanket of rabbits. His loving gaze was fixed on the figure opposite him under a peach tree in full bloom, who was standing and playing a dizi. The legend beneath read: Hanguang Jun and his cultivation partner Yiling Laozu, Lan Wuxian.

FIN

#the untamed #ao3 #mdzs #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan sizhui #myfic

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ibijau · 4 years

Note

“Remember what happened last time we played this game? I’m still looking for my dignity.” with the junior quartet?

“I just think that’s a little disrespectful,” Lan Sizhui noted, ever the voice of reason.

“Forget disrespectful,” Lan Jingyi grumbled, glancing toward the other table. “Remember what happened last time we played this game? I’m still looking for my dignity. If we end up drinking that much again...”

“So what you’re saying,” Jin Ling retorted with a smirk, “is that you’re admitting defeat?”

Lan Jingyi tensed, glaring at him. Lan Sizhui glanced at Ouyang Zizhen, hoping for some form of support, only to find their friend trying to catch the waiter’s attention.

"Four jars of wine," Ouyang Zizhen requested. "No, wait, make that five," he corrected, checking on the other table. "I think they're in a mood tonight."

"We need some ground rules," Lan Jingyi decided. "What do we count as indecent?"

"Only a Lan would need to ask that," Jin Ling huffed.

"No, he's got a point," Ouyang Zizhen intervened. "Remember that argument we had last time when they held hands?"

The other three winced at the memory, even Lan Jingyi who hadn't yet passed out at that point, and complained later that he wished he had.

"In fairness, it was a very filthy way of holding hands," Jin Ling grumbled. "Fine, let's say… A

A sip every time they touch in a non intimate place. Two sips for terms of endearments and yes, just saying each other's name counts, Jingyi."

Lan Jingyi, who had been about to ask about that, closed his mouth and pouted.

"Also two sips for prolonged eye contact," Jin Ling continued.

"And a whole bowl if they start kissing right here," Ouyang Zizhen announced with a grimace. "Not a bowl per kiss this time though. That's where we went wrong last time."

"I still think it's disrespectful," Lan Sizhui muttered, only to be ignored by his friends.

The other three were already attentively watching the table where Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were sitting alone. And already, a controversy was arising.

"Does feeding each other count as indecent?" Jin Ling asked.

"I think it does when Wei Wuxian makes that face," Ouyang Zizhen retorted. "Take a sip, everyone."

Lan Sizhui promptly obeyed, wishing alcohol took him out the way it did Lan Wangji.

It was going to be a long evening, and he really needed to stop going on Night Hunts with his friends and fathers.

#lan jingyi #lan sizhui #ouyang zizhen #jin ling #mdzs #jau writes #not my best and it is very short but I'm still trying to fight the block orz #Anonymous

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zhuilingyizhen · 4 years

Note

zhuilingyizhen coffee shop au

I remember I saw someone say that wn always owns a coffee shop in these AUs, and to that I say, yeah pretty much. (ft. wangningxian and jyl x jzx x wq)

Wen Ning owns a cute little coffee shop! He supports his baby cousin, Wen Yuan, for the first couple years.

Wen Qing runs her own practice, for children though, across the street, and three very frequent customers happen to be two Jins & a Jiang, if you get who I’m talking about. 0-0

jl and wy (turned lsz later, long story) probably played a little together as kids but it’s not super important

Anyways, wn’s coffee shop probably burns down or something in a series of arson attaccs against the Wen family. Wq’s practice doesn’t get destroyed though, and she gets some help from a certain extremely rich couple who used to go to her.

But wn is super worried bc his wittle bb cousin is gone 0-0

And then a Yuan runs off and falls into a river and dies.

Jk jk, he almost dies! And loses his memory. He’s about 6 at the time, btw. Some stranger (COUGH WWX COUGH) finds this little baby dRowNinG and saves him, bc ofc only wwx would be suspiciously near a river in the middle of nowhere.

Wwx takes keeps him for a couple days, but realizes that he has no clue how to parent, so he takes him to the Lan orphanage.

(Yes, the Lans run an orphanage and you can take this hc from my dead, cold hands.)

(Seriously, I have so many ideas for this. Ask me.)

(Dw this is still a coffee shop AU!)

Anyways, wwx takes him to his just-a-friend, lwj. Lwj looks at this child and looks at wwx.

He also has no clue who this child is.

But he really goes and named him “to long for”, staring right into wwx’s eyes.

Wwx skips away to annoy his brother or something. Idk.

So lqr, running this orphanage, takes lsz in. He also gives lwj a look when he finds out what this child was named, but... shush.

Since he’s in an orphanage, he takes the Lan name. He also meets Lan Jingyi, who is maybe 7 if this happens after August?

Ljy’s mom was not very good.

Meanwhile wn is crying his eyes out bc his bb cousin probably died in the fire and now he’s sad and it’s all his fault & :(((((

Ofc, being the amazing, bamf older sister she is, wq refuses this response.

She makes wn come work for her now, so yay! They have one less person to support, so it don’t as bad but,, but,, WEN YUAN IS DEADDD :((((((((((((((((((

So sad.

Anyways, jl probably asks once why that kid he used to play with is gone. They attend the funeral, but wn is always on da lookout for anyways who fits the description of lsz.

jl doesn’t remember him that well anyways, so oof. His parents lowkey like wq but jzx is a shy bastard and wq is uselessly gay for jyl so this won’t end up well.

But since this is a lsz-centric coffee shop AU...

Lsz grows up under the amazing teaching of lqr, probably learns an instrument or two from lxc, gets parented w/bunnies by lwj, and uselessly crushes on ljy. Like he does.

And then time skip to him in college, and he wants to start a coffee shop bc it reminds him of his childhood, that he doesn’t remember.

But yeah. Coffee shop AU.

Oyzz, who is jl’s friend goddamnit let jl have friends both his parents are alive, drags him to every coffee/tea shop in the area bc he has an obsession with good drinks. Which eventually leads them to lsz’s cozy little tea shop.

It’s moderately popular, sometimes ljy will sing for entertainment (bc yesss 🥺) and it’s pretty good! Lsz is out of college (so 22, bc he didn’t take a masters) and started the shop, ljy’s doing god knows what (maybe signed a record deal w/ someone who went to the cafe and heard him singing? a dumb luck sorta thing. Or perhaps lxc has a production company :eyes:)

but ljy sometimes helps out or just hangs around the shop.

Anyways, oyzz likes his voice a big lot, befriends ljy, and now jl has to go there every weekend bc he’s whipped for oyzz.

He also gets to watch oyzz and ljy be big gay for each other, so yeah. Huh. jl sorta befriends lsz, bc ofc he does. They’re both a lil sad, but fun!

Also, jl and wn are pretty close now bc jl has wayyyyy too many uncles.

Lsz doesn’t remember wwx, but lwj sure as hell does.

Surprisingly, wwx and wn, going out on a not-date, as just-friends, end up going to the tea shop & wn is surprised at how similar it looks to his coffee shop from all those years ago.

wOw whAt a cOinCidEncE!

jl probably recommended it to wn and wwx, bc ofc he did.

Matchmaker extraordinaire, I say. Jyl and jzx are just 🥺 so proud of their child

But they’re also uselessly crushing on wq, who isn’t usually oblivious but thinks it’s just a doctor-patient transaction.

side plot: wq and jyl go out one night and end up sleeping together and the next morning jzx makes them tea & breakfast and then casually asks how it was and jyl says “it was great” while wq chokes on her tea & is very confused:tm:

Yeah, they get together bc I love background ships.

But wn is kinda sus at how similar it looks. He thinks maybe they went to his coffee shop before, and orders tea. But then he sees the one barista and thinks “wait a second...”

Bc the barista (lsz) looks scarily familiar, he just doesn’t know why. Oyzz is just over in a corner sipping his bubble tea.

One day, after the tea shop closes and the junior quartet are the only ones left, and lsz asks to speak to jl. Alone.

Ljy and oyzz are looking at them like 👀 👀 but they leave together to go to some bookstore or something, idk.

So now lsz and jl are alone. They’re sorta friend-acquaintances, but now jl’s a little confused as to why tf lsz wants to talk to him.

Lsz explains that jl seems familiar (coughiwonderwhycough) and says that he lost his memory at a young age and that wwx found him. jl is starting to put the puzzle together.

Lsz basically asks him out on a date, but neither of them know or think it’s a date, so jl agrees.

They both go there seperate ways, and when oyzz and ljy find out the next day, they realize that they’re going on a date.

Ljy is very excited for lsz!! But what is that pain he feels—

Ofc, they stalk jl and lsz on their date, bc they are stupid and don’t realize they might have feelings for them. At least they realize their feelings for each other. Ljy & oyzz get together!! :))

They’re also oblivious though so they don’t notice a Ling & Sizhui’s :/

Wn ends up taking over the tea shop so lsz can go off and get his masters

Eventually the junior quartet stumble into a relationship ! Hopefully ! it’s really quite a mess until sizhui gets a dna test taken at wn’s request. found family turned actual family is an old trope, but one we will accept <3

#mdzs #zhuilingyizhen #wangningxian #xuanliqing #mdzs juniors #jin ling #lan jingyi #lan sizhui #ouyang zizhen #wen ning #wen qing #lan qiren #lan xichen #too lazy to tag sry #mdzs hcs #anon #asks #addy answers asks #coffee shop au

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tangledinmdzs · 3 years

Note

Juniors reaction to being old men (not poly) and meeting a Pretty old woman (the reader) and they touch hands and become young again? Like everyone else found their soulmates young (like a tattoo or something) but they get to be young again with the reader

hi hi!

hmm, interesting is this like a soulmate au sort of situation? first reading of your prompt, this gave me like ‘Up’ (the movie) vibes so i’m going off of the whim of that aha.

(as i started to write this, i realized this began to feel a lot more like a reincarnation au sort of thing but eh... aha let me know what you all think!

i hope you enjoy it!)

here’s to your request~

☆♬○♩●♪✧♩　　♩✧♪●♩○♬☆

Lan Sizhui

bingo nights at the local community center are a lot more interesting now that Sizhui has found someone that’s caught his eyes

that someone being you

the little old lady who bakes batches of snickerdoodles and stays for the small bingo rounds for a chance at luck

basically everyone knows about his little crush

his kids give him the ‘looks’ and sly smiles, though he guesses they must approve some what if they’re still driving him to the center

and his friends tease him endlessly whenever they’re sat together at the tables

(sometimes, he’ll wake up in the middle of the night, pick up his wedding picture of so many years ago by his bedside and look at his wife’s face,

her smile there, makes him feel as if she would have approved of his heart’s yearning too)

Sizhui can’t really help when his ear naturally hear your tinkling laugh, eyes gravitating to your curled and pinned up hair

not when there’s something so intently familiar about you

there’s something about you, seeing you that brings so much nostalgia to him, even though you and your family had just moved to his town a year or so ago

he can’t put his finger on it

and Sizhui is content with just staring at you from afar (because at his age, was it really the ideal time to have feelings as the young ones do?)

because he doesn’t need anything more than that

but then, tonight, when the only unoccupied seat in the bingo room is the one across from yours, his friends all push him towards the opportunity

Sizhui can’t believe that he’d actually be able to get this close to you

you both exchange a smile and a nod to one another right before the games start, and there’s not really room for much conversation when you have to pay attention to what the numbers are

and game night suddenly feels a lot more intense now that he’s sitting so close to you

not just because of the proximity

but sitting in front of you, Sizhui sees that you are quite competitive

even though bingo was basically a pure luck game

he sees the way your eyes flicker to the chips sat between the both of you and your board almost strategically

Sizhui thinks it’s quite funny (cute)

and the rest of the night fades into fast numbers and rolling wheels, until suddenly it happens

at the call of ‘63′ you both reach for the chip pile at the same time, eyes on your boards to check your numbers

and your fingers graze one another

it’s the smallest touch

but it brings feelings to his chest that Sizhui hasn’t felt in a long time

the electric shock of a first kiss, ignites his veins as he looks up at you

Sizhui feels the thundering of his heart against his chest, the sound of it pounding in his eyes drowning out all other noise in the room so that his eyes could solely focus on you

and for the first time, you are looking at him eye to eye

you seeing him

him seeing you

what you were (are?) to one another

is more than each of you

would ever know

Lan Jingyi

when Jingyi catches your arm on his, it nearly takes the both of you down

you both, elders now, were not at the prime age for strenuous or sudden movements

but Jingyi’s lucky that his youth spent in athletics has given him a bit more residual strength and flexibility,

so he isn’t taken down by your weight though you both still take a pretty shaky stumble before standing still once again

“are you alright?” Jingyi asks you, his hand holding yours that’s clutched to his arm,

“very alright, thanks to you,”

your voices bring your eyes to one another, because the voice that you both speak and hear sound much younger than your old faces are

when Jingyi’s eyes meet yours, he’s surprised

surprised to see the same eyes, glimmering just like they were all those years ago, when he and you had departed

you don’t plan to meet each other like this

you didn’t plan to meet each other ever again if you were honest with yourself

but you’re just a breath away from Jingyi’s face when you look up at him

and his face

underneath the age spots,

wrinkles,

and new nicks and tweaks

still looks ever the same

still etched in your heart

“y/n...” Jingyi says your name, and you feel reassured that it had not just been (not only) you who recognized him

you can’t find any other words,

so you smile,

because in a life time where you didn’t think you were going to meet at all

at the very least,

you managed to catch each other before the end

Jin Ling

Jin Ling has taken to early morning walks in his neighborhood park

because the kids had been nagging him,

and the grandkids constantly reminded him of how important it was to his health (young as they were; they were literally like, 7)

his wife wasn’t there to do the job that his kids had taken up, and besides even if she was, he hadn’t ever been good at listening to her anyway

a great woman she was, but not the one that was his soulmate, the one single connection that everyone strived to find in this one life

there are not that many that are that lucky, Jin Ling knows

he’s accepted that the odds will always be stacked against his favor

but it still doesn’t make the romance in his heart ache any less

Jin Ling’s morning walk consists of following the same walk way path, the one closest to the street and sitting down at his favorite bench

most days the routine is the same as it always is; perhaps its the earliness of the time that he decides to walk, or the fact that this bench was quite secluded out of the other benches

but there usually wasn’t anyone sitting there

until these past few days

because ever since Monday, he’d been seeing someone sit at his bench

you

the first two days, he’d walk pass you and went straight home, because he wasn’t too keen on sharing a seat with anyone and afraid of small talk

but now it was already the third day

and today, Jin Ling was feeling particularly winded

so he swallows his pride and slows as he gets close to the bench where you are sat at, throwing pieces of bread out to the pigeons that were beginning to surround you

yet another reason why Jin Ling didn’t want to sit with you (he had allergies for peace sake’s)

when Jin Ling sits down, using his cane as his support, he sits at the edge of the bench farthest away from you as he can

he’s also turned the opposite direction, as not to get the flapping feathers of the pigeons in his face

“mister, you might as well be standing with how little you’re on the bench,” a voice behind him quips

Jin Ling’s brows furrow naturally, his kids say that he takes after his uncle (their great uncle) but habits are hard to break and Jin Ling doesn’t feel like this stranger has any right to tell how much or how little he is sitting on a public bench,

when you catch his face, he’s surprised by your small giggle

“you can move in a bit more; don’t worry i don’t bite” you tell him, waving your hand to motion him to slide in

Jin Ling stare at you, eyebrow quirking up

you smile at him, the wrinkles at the edge of your eyes and mouth folding up

“alright as long as you’re comfortable,” you amend, closing the conversation by turning back to stare at the pigeons surrounding you hands at your side

Jin Ling huffs to himself, wondering how a stranger could gauge his personality better than some of his kids at times

with that thought (and the edge of the bench digging into the bottom of his thigh) Jin Ling slides into the bench

he manages a few scoots in and stops abruptly when he feels his hand land on yours

he’d mistook the distance between you, thinking you were farther

you both turn to each other, an apology on your lips when your eyes shimmer with an image, a recollection

an open field of flowers, Jin Ling sees, behind the smiling face of yours that he just witness, except smoother and rosy cheeks

you’re staring in muted surprise, as your eyes take in the details of the glimpse of young Jin Ling, brow still furrowed though his face holds a cute pout that you think would still look cute on him even now

you both have met each other, predestined in some youth that was not of this world

but aged in this reality, you are each others now

Ouyang Zizhen

the nursing home is quiet this season, the off season

though ever since he’d been put here it feels more like an off season

there are not usually many visitors to this place, and even if they do come they don’t stay for long

sometimes Zizhen misses the socialization that his youth had,

he wouldn’t say that he was popular per say

but he had quite a number of friends, good friends that had kept him company, filled his memories with many things that can still get a chuckle to rise out of him

even now

sat in the rocking chair by the window, Zizhen thinks he should be grateful, at the very least his memory was more intact that those of his same aged peers

maybe, because his memory is so great, it makes him miss the thrill of befriending someone new all the more

“is the seat besides you taken?”

when Zizhen turns to the voice, it’s slow, (there’s a crick at the bottom of neck that he doesn’t want to agitate) but also, it’s been a long time since someone other than his nurse had talked to him

“no, it’s all yours,” Zizhen finds himself say, happy that his personable attitude still shines bright even in his age

when Zizhen looks at you, he can tell that you are one of the newer arrivals to this nursing home, you still have the liveliness of the outside world etched into your smile, something Zizhen had lost after his third month without hearing anything from the kids, or seeing the grandkids anymore

“my name is y/n, may i have yours?” you introduce once you finally settle yourself on a small chair next to his, walker placed to the side

Zizhen likes the gentleness of your voice and he smiles as he holds his hand out to you

“Zizhen, the strangers usually call me Ouyang but you can call me Zizhen” he tells you and you let out a breathy laugh, taking his hand in yours

your skin is soft in his grasp, just as his palm is warm against your fingers

you both lock eyes with each other,

Zizhen sees familiar in the image of the young girl with flowing hair, bright eyes and bright red lips smiling under a starlight night

you feel the tears bringing in your brown orbs, at the shaggy hair and flannel t-shirt of a tall lanky boy, with a laugh so loud it rings clear in your heart

your images of each other disappear back to the present, when the tear rolls down your cheek

it steals your breath away

perhaps,

you both had met one another before

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theleakypen · 3 years

Text

first lines: fic-writers meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!

I was tagged by @la-muerta! I've mostly been archiving my kissing fics on AO3 lately, so that's what these will be, probably. I'm going to skip the ones where the first line was given to me by another person, since those are not illustrative. I am also skipping my filks. XD

1. Terms of Care - in answer to the prompt: "wei wuxian & wen ning + forehead kisses"

“Ah, Wen Ning, come join me!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, waving Wen Ning over to his spot in the bunny clearing.

2. Not To Be Alone - in answer to the prompt: "jiang cheng/song lan - hating separation"

“I was in shock still, and I said such awful things… So I’m looking for him now, to apologise. To say: traveling with you is better than traveling without you.”

3. This One's Spicy - in answer to the prompt: "lan jingyi/lan sizhui - yi city"

Lan Jingyi was still making elaborate disgusted faces, scraping his teeth over his tongue and the like.

4. fell through the cracks, but we're okay - in answer to the prompt: "oyzz/a-qing, au where they meet when they're both alive"

“Excuse me, are there any powerful people around here? Powerful people who cultivate?”

5. All This Burning Sexual Tension - in answer to the prompt: "wei wuxian/wen qing + laughter"

“Qing jiějiě!” Wei Wuxian shouts, bursting into the mess. “Jiang Cheng has brought it to my attention that we need to work out the unbearable sexual tension between us.”

6. In the Officers' Baths - in answer to the prompt: "mu nihuang/xia dong - something fun and not sad"

“Jùnzhǔ!”

7. in this great golden tower - in answer to the prompt: "qin su/wen qing, koi tower"

Qin Su has never asked xiǎo-Qing about her past.

8. sharp words, soft hands - in answer to the prompt: "chengxuan after like a big battle or something and one of them is hurt and the other one is worried and expressing it through getting snappy?"

Jin Zixuan opens his mouth to speak when Jiang Wanyin strides into his tent, but before he can say anything, the Jiang sect leader snaps, “Don’t bother. I saw exactly how it happened. You’d think someone raised in the great Lanling Jin sect would have learned a modicum of tactics.”

9. corpse kiss - in answer to the prompt: "how about wn/jzx with the prompt “qiongqi path”" (content warning: this one is noncon)

There was no longer a flute playing, but Wen Ning was still rushing toward Jin Zixuan like a hurricane in human form.

10. Closed Fist, Warm Mouth - in answer to the prompt: "xianxuan, in the middle of an argument"

It was lucky that Jin Zixuan had stomped away from his entourage as well as from the Jiang contingent, because it meant that there was no one to stop Wei Wuxian from throwing a punch this time.

11. Growing Things - in answer to the prompt: "lan sizhui & ouyang zizhen (my underappreciated boi!), growing things"

The Baling gardens were one of Lan Sizhui’s favorite places.

12. what's left when revenge is over - in answer to the prompt: "Sisi/Nie Huaisang post Guanyin temple"

“It’s done, then,” Sisi says, standing behind Nie Huaisang and beginning to take his hair down.

13. a good bruise - in answer to the prompt: "chengqing, jiang-furen wen qing. after training disciples"

They have been married for just over a year, but it still somehow seems scandalous to Wen Qing that she gets to be here, in Sect Master Jiang’s own personal quarters, as he gets ready for his post-training bath; that she gets to pull at the ties on his outer robes, skim her fingers along his collarbones to feel him shiver, help him shrug off each successive layer of clothes until all that’s left between her and his sweat-slick skin are her own clothes.

14. why the hell not - in answer to the prompt: "wwx/nhs, burial mounds. why the hell not"

“Nie xiong, what the hell are you doing here?”

15. Rivers and Lakes, Towns and Cities - a prequel of my Songxiao Middle Earth AU, where the Elf Xiao Xingchen meets the Human Song Lan after leaving Baoshan Sanren's mountain (which is, like, an Asian equivalent of Rivendell)

Baoshan Sanren always said that the world west of the Mountain was full of corruption and iniquity, that the Western Elves were liars to a one, and that the gods they called the Valar were betrayers.

16. A Hundred Beautiful Things - The Untamed (TV) fandom, Jiang Yanli/Nie Huaisang political marriage set after the Qishan indoctrination arc.

It was an adjustment, to be sure.

17. Taste You In My Core - 魔道祖师/Mo Dao Zu Shi novel fandom, Nie Huaisang/Xiao Xingchen monster4monster porn with Eldritch Xiao Xingchen and Beast Nie Huaisang.

“Are you all right, gōngzǐ?" the young man asks, and Nie Huaisang does his best not to laugh.

18. A Fruitful Correspondence - The Untamed (TV) fandom, Lan Wangji is forcibly befriended by Jiang Yanli (and by extension Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng) during the time that Wei Wuxian and the Wens are holed up in the Burial Mounds.

Lan Wangji’s plan upon attending the wedding between Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli is to put in the bare minimum of appearances and then go home at the earliest opportunity.

19. Bored - Leverage (!!) fandom, in Season 2, Episode 1, Parker mentioned stealing the Hope Diamond and then putting it back. This is the story of that heist.

Planning the heist still carries the same thrill as it always does: scoping out guard rotations, evaluating the schematics for their new security system (laughable, even with the increased bandwidth to support a greater number of security cameras), visiting the museum as a paying guest… Parker loves this part, and it’s good to stretch her muscles in this way, relying on no one but herself.

20. Best Friends for Best Friends - The Untamed/MDZS fandom (could go with either canon) fic for Jin Ling's birthday featuring the Juniors quartet and a whole litter of puppies - this is an archived threadfic that was cleaned up and then thrown on AO3.

Jin Ling totally forgot about the "no pets at Cloud Recesses" rule, okay?

I've noticed that I tend to like to start with some kind of dialogue most frequently; otherwise, something to establish the POV character's interiority. The big exception is the Middle Earth fic where I was emulating Tolkien's narrator, somewhat.

I think of these twenty, my favorite opening line is probably either 7 or 16. They're so sparse, but still set up a lot.

Tagging @hunxi-guilai, @iamwestiec, @bladedweaponsandswishycoats, @shadaras, @withbroombefore, @vyther15, @vivisextion if y'all wanna play! If not, no worries ofc :3

#long post #tag game #puck writes

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whumpbby · 8 months

Note

It's a nice evening to send random asks. Please tell me what modern Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling would be like? (what they would wear, where they would be working, some modern interest they might have, etc.) :>

Sorry for the wait, I'm travelling so everything online takes a while;)

I have so many different ideas for all kinds of different modern scenarios XD

Personally, I'm not a great fan of modernAU, because I find them most of the time quite uninventive. I like when the characters from a fantastic world are still fantastic in the modern world - love me some urban fantasy AU:)

In that case, I'd see JC in a scenario similar to the OG story - a last heir of once powerful clan, forced to navigate the political scene of powerful people and protect his people and territory.

He'd work as someone who can leave at a moments notice to deal with the problem. I read one fic where cultivators were still apart of the modern world and worked to control spirits and so on - and I support that idea.

If he absolutely needed to have a job and wasn't a cultivator, it would be some leadership position that required a lot of time investment from him - a director of a family business that almost went under, that he saved from ruin. Something regional and long-standing. Fisheries. Local restaurant/hotel chain. Funeral home.

Oh god, I love the idea of a funeral home xD

He'd have a hard time raising his nephew single-handedly, Jin Ling would spend a lot of time in JC's office/workplace as a little kid, waiting for his uncle to finish work/solve the issue, so he wouldn't have the best contact with hia peers. And if JC's job was something creepy (like a funeral director) the kids at school would be creeped out and bully him. He would have a problem finding friends and grow up to be a standoffish teen. He'd spend time hanging out at the funeral home and in the local park with his dog, play computer games and read books. A general 'lonely teen' stuff.

Now, if that's the world where magic exists to a degree - maybe the Lan are a spirit-whisperers that deal with ghosts and that's why JL finds friends with Sizhui and Jingyi, who are not really creeped out by his family's business.

Say, if there happens to be a Case happening in the area and Lan Wangji appears with the juniors to follow a trail and the trail leads to the body JC has in his funeral house - and he's all "Fuck off, you specifically Huanguang-Jun, I'm done with this life after it took my family away! None of that on my turf! And don't you dare to drag my nephew into this shit!" And Lan Xichen has to step in to convince him to help them while the boys bond...

But I digress.

Jiang Cheng dresses sharply always - as is required of a serious funeral director. He has little patience for the living, but also has a very sympathetic character, and people find him comforting in their hardest moments, even though on the daily he's quite brusque. He'd just externally so well put together! They trust him!

Jin Ling also dresses well - because he was raised by a neurotic mess of a man that was desperate to present his nephew perfectly so that the services wouldn't take him away and give the parenting rights to the Jin. JL likes bright colours and hates getting dirty, and likes to look good (people find him less of a weirdo this way) and will make sure to get the brands together to match. His uncle has a thriving business so the money isn't a problem in his teen years.

They usually eat dinners together - even if JL has to bring a takeout to the funeral house when his uncle works late. They both know how to cook, being single men and all. JC makes sure to take regulat holidays with his nephew, taking him skiing or diving, and so on, because life is short.

In general, they are living a slow, quiet life of a little family that loves each other very much:)

#headcanon #mdzs #jiang cheng #jin ling #jin ling and his jiujiu

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herenortherenearnorfar · 4 years

Text

Final graduation ficlet (which got quite long). A-Qing lives (sort of) and channels ghosts while living out her fashionista dreams. Jiang Cheng is identifiable due to his clothing choices. Light violence and zombies.

The best thing about living in Koi Tower is the clothing. Silk that runs like water between her hands, brocade heavy with embroidery, jewelry that chimes and sings as she moves. She doesn’t feel heat or cold, can’t sense gentle changes in pressure or even most pain. There’s still enough perception in her fingers to map out the bamboo grove and song birds stitched on her favorite dress and feel the whorls of gold and inset jade on her new bracelet.

After the first impolite insinuation about their friendship Jin Ling stopped buying her gifts more excessive than those he gave to the rest of his friends. Ouyang Zizhen, who can describe the grandeur of Lanling’s markets so clearly she can see the hawkers and jewel-bright fancies in her mind’s eye, has been thoroughly scolded by his father on her behalf so many times that they’ve regretfully halted their shopping trips.

Wei Wuxian makes up for it. He doesn’t have money of his own, but his husband is rich and lets him do whatever he wants, and what he wants is to spoil A-Qing whenever he’s in town.

He calls her cousin (biao zhi mei, an affection which makes several martial relationships familial and she thinks retroactively enforces at least two adoptions) and takes her places the boys are too scared to go. Good company though they usually are, they’re rich kids to the core. The streets A-Qing grew up on, back alleys and muddy side streets, are too lowly for little princes. They aren’t like Wei-qianbei, who can banter with street walkers and haggle with counterfeiters. His company is a welcome escape from the pompous brats in Koi Tower. Together with Wen Ning they walk the streets, wearing high collars and low hats for disguise. They sniff about the food vendors until oil and salt fill A-Qing’s throat and coat the remnants of her tongue. Wei Wuxian buys her trinkets, little squares of silk and jangling bracelets of gilt and enamel, louder and more delightful than the demure ostentation of the Jin. When she was young and dreamed of being rich she wanted bracelets up to her elbows, not “restraint” or “taste”.

At the end of every outing Wei Wuxian hands her a little parcel. “From your shushu by the water” he says, as if she has any idea who that is. They’re nice gifts through. Scarves and robes in fine cotton and brocade. There’s stitched florals and ribbons. She makes Jin Ling describe them to her and he reluctantly tells her about violet and turquoise geometric patterns, waxed pale into fabric. There’s one overrobe she especially likes— dark blue, Jin Ling says, with a cracking pattern like mud under the sun, like lightning, like the death lines on her own skin. She can feel the stares on her when she wears it.

The old men certainly stare when she slams open the door and begins tapping her way into the conference room, though she can’t tell whether it’s the crackling midnight robe, the green jade pins in her hair, or the fact that she’s here at all that has them so startled. That’ll teach them to try to distract her with poetry and fancies. As soon as the fine cultivator ladies, who normally scorn Koi Tower’s corpse, swept her away, she knew something was wrong.

It’s bold of them to try to ambush Jin Ling in his own home. They’re going to regret it.

“Xiao-guniang,” Jin Ling says, sounding relieved. A servant takes her arm and guides her over to the table, and A-Qing doesn’t snap at them. She’s learned to pick her battles. “I was just about to send for you. These kind elders have quite the suggestion for me and I wanted your input on it.”

“Is this really the place for a young... lady?” come the protestation.

“My shibo thinks highly of her judgement.” Jin Ling says, leaving everyone to put together in their own heads who his shibo is.

That stirs up whispers. It always does. A Sect Leader, almost grown, consulting her? A corpse under the Yiling Patriarch’s protection, a barely civilized street rat. They might have given her Xiao Xingchen’s name (it still hurts to hear it spoken, still scrapes every time someone calls her Xiao Qing, though even Song-daozhang insists he would have wanted her to have it) and a backstory worthy of tears (’she survived Xue Yang!’ Ouyang Zizhen would cry, passionate and sweet, and Jingyi would add a story of her bravery so embroidered it was unrecognizable) but she’s still a parentless urchin. A girl. A dead thing. There are a dozen reasons she shouldn’t be here.

Jin Ling has the full support of the Jiang and the Lan behind him though, and Nie-zongzhu always compliments her accessories. None of the other, weaker sects can do a thing about it. Politics is a lot like living on the street; the big people make the rules and everyone else puts up with it. The old coots make some noises about propriety, forcing chaperones and moderating the affection A-Qing and her friends can show each other in public, but they can’t get rid of her or mitigate her influence on their young ruler.

At best they can insinuate, and since Jin Ling started making eyes at the visiting cultivator from Dali those insinuations have had increasingly little weight.

What are their words? A-Qing signs, even though she knows perfectly well why they’re ganging up on Jin Ling in a side room. She won it out of Duanmu-zongzhu’s wife, who was sent to distract her. It’s amazing what people will say in the presence of a mute girl-- they think she’s deaf too and talk quite freely. You would think they’d be more careful, since she is, by their own accusation, a conniving abomination, but for all their fear they never quite take her seriously.

“They had some suggestions about the salt trade.” Jin Ling is doing an admirable job of playing the mature diplomat. “Surely they can explain it better themselves.”

“We merely wished--” one of them starts stammering, and another one takes over. “We thought to inform Jin-zongzhu of the opportunity to centralize control of the salt market. The Jin, Qin, and Lan together hold most of the salt marshes, and Jin-zongzhu’s great-aunt ruling in Meishan mean he would be able to get the western brine wells to cooperate with a taxation pact. It would be very beneficial to both the sects and the merchants!”

“They want to put limits on who can buy and sell salt, and they’re willing to levy a tax to make it worth our while.” She can practically hear Jin Ling’s posture, arms crossed, defensive. “Xiao-guniang, I don’t suppose you have any thoughts on that?”

I’ve walked in salt villages, A-Qing replied, leaning her cane against the table so her hands can move furiously fast. It’s not a good life. Brine and heat. If they could only sell to a few merchants they would be underpaid. No choices.

(A maid helpfully murmurs a translation of her words to the rest of the room. Few people have bothered to learn the language she now uses, the one she pieced together with the help of her friends.)

Jin Ling hums. “That makes sense.”

“There’s no reason to hesitate on the behalf of some peasants,” a very bold voice complains. “Their state won’t be improved by empty sympathy.”

“They’re just boilers, of no concern to you Jin-zongzhu. We treat them well.”

Oh. Oh.

She was going to hold back, for Jin Ling’s sake, but now she’s angry. Who of you is Hu Anshi? she demands, mouthing out the sounds of the name and punctuating it with the bracketed meaning (beard, safe, stone) over and over until it’s duly translated.

Reluctantly, one of the many voices in front of her says, “I am, xiaojie.”

Even with her ever sharpening sense (honed by cultivation that she came into late and kicking) it’s hard to differentiate him from the rest of the horde of weakly pulsing qi before her. They all have ghosts attached to them, hovering resentment like a cloud about their heads. Rich men attract desperate hatred better than anyone else. But she thinks she can single out one fuzzy figure with a particularly heavy load of sins and a familiar tinged energy over his shoulder,

A-Qing takes up her bamboo cane and strikes it once on the ground. I talked to your ghosts, she signs with her free hand. They had a lot to say.

That silences them.

Jin Ling inhales sharply and moves closer to her side, hand grazing her sleeve in support. When she shakes her head he withdraws, leaving her alone on in the cool air of the Koi Tower, shivering in her fine cotton and silk. Shivering because she’s letting the change come over her, letting the whispering, angry ghosts attached to Hu Anshi’s back have their say.

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when she took up this route of cultivation. Mediumship is... frowned upon by the sort of people who bear swords and seek immortality. The common people like it though and before she knew Xiao Xingchen, A-Qing made the acquaintance of a number of temple diviners and spirit writers. Some of them even offered her apprenticeships-- blind girls made for good optics. Spirit specialists willing to take on a pickpocket without the slightest inclination towards ghosts were unfortunately untrustworthy by definition. She never took them up on the offers.

Then she died and, like many of the restless dead, needed a way to communicate. Lan Sizhui played her Inquiry a thousand times in those first weeks, to ask her if she was comfortable, to field questions from the other giggling Lans. Eventually A-Qing memorized the song and began to play it on her own, tapping it out with bamboo against earth and fingers against wood. The spirit language, limited in form and structure, was easy to pick up and didn’t need a tongue or eyes.

When you played Inquiry, ghosts answered. A-Qing didn’t mention the questions at first, just did her clumsy best to give offerings to those whose names she learned, to give justice to those small inequalities her late night listening uncovered.

Wei-qianbei, who had what he called a “vested interest” in her wellbeing, learned about it eventually. He was the one who found her in Caiyi town (hidden from Lan and Jin elders alike while some ridiculous politics happened) fighting off possession by the little girl who’d been murdered two doors down a year ago. He was the one who helped her curse the wrongdoer, soothe the restless soul, and settle back into her own cold skin. After that he taught her Inquiry, and how to use the meditations Xiao Xingchen had happily guided her through to solidify her presence and strengthen her energy output. If she was going to get possessed, he suggested, she should be purposeful about it.

He didn’t teach her how to use her corpse strength to drag evildoers into the light. It came naturally enough and only needed a few suggestions from Wen-qianbei and Song-daozhang.

After that things had sort of... spiralled. By the time she went to join Jin Ling, then Jin-zongzhu, in Lanling a few months later, A-Qing had found herself an avatar of vengeance for any number of unquiet spirits. The living consulted her too, when there was bad luck or poltergeists, hauntings or incomplete burials.

As it happened, the highest halls of cultivation have hungry ghosts in need of justice too.

She lived in the north, in a village with no name. A-Qing says as icy incorporeal fingers close around her neck. They were poor and made money by selling salt, because one woman could bring up enough brine in a day to provide a whole family with salt for a year. And it paid. Until one day the merchants came to town with you at their head.

You have to give Zu’er, the maid who’s translating, credit. Even though the hand language drops lots of in-between words by necessity and requires creative substitutions-- earth for salt, sky for day-- she always picks up on A-Qing’s meaning. And she doesn’t flinch as smoke, hot and roiling, begins to peel off A-Qing, which speaks to her nerve if nothing else.

A-Qing taps her staff again and begins drumming out the song of opening, of offering.

Under your guidance they wouldn’t pay them enough to buy firewood from the inland where trees grew, or rice from the flood plains that weren’t salted beyond survival. Salt worth a fortune sold for scraps.

So they starved. Working, salt crusted, they hungered and hated you.

Footsteps echo on the cold marble floor.

“Bar the door,” Jin Ling says next to her, mild and spiteful. Whatever spirit he channels in clan politics, it’s a vicious one. “I think everyone should hear this.”

So a woman took salt on her back and went to sell it someplace else. And who did she meet on the road but the merchants? Do you remember what you did?

“She’s a witch and a liar,” someone, maybe even Hu Anshi claims. A-Qing is too deep in to care. The ghost, who came to her instantly when she played Inquiry this afternoon, looking for answers about this purported plot to head a monopoly, is particularly insistent and clever. She’s been following Hu Anshi for a long time, too weak to strike, too smart to get caught by protective charms and spirit dispelling talismans.

Now she finally has a chance to speak, in a sense of the word.

There is a complication to channeling without a tongue or eyes. She can get around just fine in this body of hers but spirits are rather less experienced. Without Sizhui or another Lan expert most can’t make their wishes known. So A-Qing has to get creative.

As much as she hates to admit it, she knows who she learned this mean showsmanship from. Three years with Xue Yang teaches you a lot about drama.

Cane held out like a divining sword, she advances, letting the spirit half sunk in her flesh and a faint memory of the room’s layout guide her around the table towards the bundle of quaking men. Like cowards, they scatter before her, not even trying to fight back (just as well; she can’t be killed but a sword in the stomach doesn’t make anyone happy). The ghost over her shoulder knows which target she wants to pick and swings about as frightened bodies swirl around her. Hu Anshi might be able to dodge but he can’t hide, soon she has him cornered.

His friends abandon him quickly, fleeing to the edges of the room as she advances. When her bamboo strikes his shaking legs, she gives in and lets the ghost have its way.

The problem with possession is that you have very little control. Locked away in the cool dark of her own flesh, A-Qing can’t even see what’s happening. Jin Ling is there, though, with his Clarity Bell, so she’s comfortable sitting back.

She gave the ghost pretty clear directions; no permanent damage, show how you died. At worst she’ll choke him for a bit before Jin Ling snaps her out of it.

For the sake of her friend, A-Qing tries to be subtle about her skills. Jin Ling helped her form her sign language, stuck with her even in the earliest days when the other frightened juniors were suggesting they report her to the Chief Cultivator, sent her long letters that Lan Jingyi would sprint down from Gusu to read out loud to her. He brought her here, gave her pretty dresses, listened when she talked about hungry children and towns that cultivators never visit. Listened when she talked about frightened female ghosts, begging for their lives, and murdered servants who have never gotten justice. Even his dog has been kind to her, has guided her through gardens and chased away bullies while Jin Ling sat in stuffy rooms doing grownup work. In deference to his family and responsibilities she doesn’t swear even when people act like bastards, she doesn’t run, she doesn’t summon evil spirits indoors without cause.

Sometimes she wonders how long their friendship (bound by oaths though it is) will last. In the three years they’ve known each other he’s gotten tall and deep-voiced, while she’s stayed the same. By the calendar she’s a decade older than him but she’ll never be fully grown. A-Qing is a creature of boundaries, not a girl and not a woman, not living and not dead. Not a destitute orphan anymore but not made for places like this.

More accurately, places like this aren’t made for her. It’s a shame because they clearly need her badly. Who else will give the ghosts and forgotten people a voice?

When the Clarity Bell finally shakes the ghost out of her body, she’s throttling a man with exquisite delicacy, holding his warm and moving throat like it’s the finest china ware. This is how she died, A-Qing thinks. You strangled her and left her body by the roadside. You took her salt and sold it and her family starved.

There’s a heavy hand on her shoulder. “That’s quite enough, I think.” says Jiang-zongzhu, whose voice she bothers to remember.

A-Qing lets the man fall to the floor, gasping even though she barely choked him.

“I told you all to stop talking about your salt plot,” Jiang-zongzhu is shouting above her. “Now you’ve tried to convince Jin-zongzhu alone to go along with your little price fixing scheme? Pathetic. I’ve heard enough of it. Get out. Don’t ever bring it up again.”

There’s a desperate skittering that A-Qing barely notices in the post-possession fog. She assumes the room clears.

“We’ll send the accusations of foul play to the local authorities?” When faced with his uncle Jin Ling always phrases orders as questions.

“A good idea,” Jiang-zongzhu agrees. “Send some cultivators too-- it’s outside of our wheelhouse but there’s bound to be some resentment built up if a merchant syndicate has been running wild through the marshes. Where did you say they were active, Xiao-guniang?”

He’s always polite to her. At first it was a disgusted sort of politeness, a politeness that suggested that she didn’t belong anywhere near his precious nephew. Over time it’s mellowed into frosty gentility and the occasional hand on her arm when she’s lost.

Qing province? she shrugs. South Bo Sea coast.

Signing proper nouns is like playing charades. For qing she points to herself (the words are close enough in pronounciation) for bo she taps her staff. It must make sense though because Jiang-zongzhu doesn’t even wait for Jin Ling’s swift interpretation. “That’s closest to Laoling. Qin Cangye has had a lot on his plate lately. Best to send a letter and some of your men.”

“I guess I should go do that. And I have to reassure the sect leaders I’m not doing demonic cultivation again.” A-Qing frowns and Jin Ling hastily amends, “You did great though.”

“Great is pushing it,” Jiang-zongzhu snaps. “You’re getting a reputation.”

Jin Ling, whose voice is already by the door, isn’t impressed. “They can get over themselves.”

Then it’s just her and Jiang-zongzhu in the room. One heartbeat, one steady warm core. A-Qing turns to go, only to be caught by the arm.

“Thank you.” Jiang-zongzhu says slowly. “You’ve been a good friend to him.”

A-Qing remembers the courtyard with the lotus pond, where she and Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi swore to be siblings in the eyes of the gods. (Though they love their other friends, they were excluded for practical reasons. Sizhui is already related to all of them and needed no further binding. Zizhen is a little in love with everyone and Jin Ling claims it’s bad form to sleep with sworn siblings, so for them to keep their options open he had to be excepted.) It’s a secret oath; Jin Ling doesn’t need the political complication of open sworn brotherhood. It’s still binding.

I try.

Jiang-zongzhu always smells like thunderstorms when he’s stressed. Right now all she can smell is the cloying Jin incense and a sweetness of lotuses. “Keep trying. And don’t be afraid to send for me again if you hear they’re ganging up on him.”

As he lets go of her her hand brushes his trailing sleeve. In an instant her fingers graze over silk brocade and fine patterned cotton. The texture is familiar and she instinctively grabs the fabric to feel the delicate embroidery and the stiff, thick woven cotton that still smells ever so slightly of wax. She can imagine the patterns inked on, maybe lotuses? Greenery? The colors are definitely shades of purple, blue and green.

A-Qing smiles as Jiang-zongzhu pulls away and stalks out.

The best thing about Koi Tower is the clothing, which sits against her skin and reminds her of the people who have taken her in.

The second best thing is getting to terrorize entitled rich people.

#the untamed #fanfic #graduation ficlets #a-qing #jin ling #jiang cheng

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alice-in-wonderart · 4 years

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Could you do marriage proposal headcanons for the junior quartet (Sizhui, Jingyi, Jin Ling and Zizhen), pretty please?

Oof, I apologise for the wait, dear. This got much longer than anticipated- regardless, I hope you enjoy me clowning the juniors. After all, proposing isn't easy.

Jin Ling

Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic.

"Why do I have to propose?! Can't she?!"que angry whailing from the Juniors.

No, in all honesty, Jin Ling would be utterly out of it. The moment he realizes he wants to spend his life with you hits him in the face like a brick. And suddenly he doesn't know what to do with himself... So he turns to his friends, who of course, tease him like hell for it.

Ultimately, they help him set up some sort of plan - the plan of taking you out and proposing. The whole idea was for him take a day off from being a sect leader to spend it with you, which turned into an impromptu mini trip to Yunmeng. And so the plan is set in motion.

But nothing ever goes as planned, does it? For the most part - it went okay. He took you around Yunmeng, showing you anything and everything interesting, reminiscing even. But you knew something was off - Jin Ling was jittery, much more unruly and quick to anger than usual.He was blushing like crazy at the simplest of touches. In fact, he was a walking time bomb ready to explode any second. And- it did.

It did, when work found him anyways. Urgent business he had to discuss with his uncle, apparently something which couldn't wait. He wasn't even listening to the logistics of it, his mind was on you - who was going to have to wait for him patiently. Not only that, but because of said work - you'd have to stay longer than expected. (Maybe he should have warned his Jiujiu about his plan, but such smart decision-making doesn't run in the family)

And, you see, usually this wouldn't bother him much, but when he had meticulously *tried* to plan a PROPOSAL, things were very different. So, coming out after a few hours of endless work, he's pissed - at himself, at work, at life...and he yells at you. He yells at you for asking why he's been acting strange all day, frustration falling from his lips like a sinner's confession.

"Strange?! You have no idea what is going on, do you!? No, of course you don't! Ugh. My entire plan got ruined!! This is a disaster!!"

And you'd have to calm him down, that no - nothing was a disaster, you had fun, Yunmeng was lovely, you'd love to stay a bit more. And once again it was proven to him, that there is nobody in the entire world he'd rather spend his days with.

"Okay, look. I know I'm not perfect. I can be rash, hot-tempered, bad-mannered. I'm a sect leader, I'm always busy. And even now, when I tried to make everything perfect for you, it still failed. And here I am, standing in front of you, feeling like an absolute lovestruck moron, like you're my first crush and I just lose my train of thought around you. And-

Goddamn it, I love you, I love you with all of my heart. And I want to show you that everyday. I want to give you everything, I want to give you the world and - I just want to know if- you'dwanttomarryme?"

Lan Sizhui

Sizhui knew very well, that one day he was going to marry you - after all, you were his light, his soulmate. His first love, his world. You stayed with him through thick and thin already, you were his support, his treasure. And he simply couldn't imagine a world without you.

But proposing didn't come as naturally as he'd expected. After having witnessed WangXian in its full potential, having been a part of their wedding, and knowing fully well how it should go down, he still felt a tad too lost and decided to ask for advice.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were very supportive, albeit teasing. Ultimately they were of little help outside of support, suggesting (WWX) all kinds of crazy proposals, from poems, to serenades, to fireworks, wild animals, crazy adventures. Lan Wangji suggested simply asking, which also didn't quite sit right with Sizhui. He was never one for the extravagant show-off performances, but a little more care would never hurt anybody.

Ultimately, he decided to ask you during one of your occasional evening walks around Gusu. He'd told you to wait for him outside a tad later than expected. That of course caught your attention, since Lan Sizhui was never one to break rules, but the little night date was set in motion regardless.

Walking around the back mountain and near the pond with the bunnies, he felt his hands sweat a bit, while waiting for the right moment. He seemed much more distracted than usual, a light pink dusting his cheeks. Soon he found himself kneeling next to you, as you were holding one of the white fluffballs in your hands, lovingly petting it.

"I could stay like this forever" he'd hear fall from your lips. Or perhaps it was something else? He wasn't listening.

"You can..I mean- we can. Just you and me." he'd mumble, gently taking one of your hands in his. He took a deep shaky breath. The bunny jumped off you and he gently caressed the palm of your other hand, before pulling it slightly to his heart. The questioning look you gave him made his heart skip a beat..or two. He smiled warmly at you.

"I..called you out here for a reason actually. I've never actively looked for love, never thought I might find it, yet here you are. And I love you very much, much more than I have the words to express. And you see, everytime I look at you, I can't help but imagine a bright future with you, together, as partners. Even now, my heart beats so fast around you, I fear it might jump right out of my chest. No amount of eloquent poetry or masterfully crafted music can contain everything that I feel for you."

He stopped and moved to kiss your knuckles. "And through it all, we stayed together. You know me better than I know myself. And I know now, that I can't imagine a life without you in it. With all the love and respect I have for you, I'm asking you if you'd like to marry me?"

Lan Jingyi

Let's say your cultivation level isn't the best for the sake of the scenario lol

Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic - Part 2

Oh wow, something scarier than ghosts - commitment love.

Jingyi is lost. He knows he loves you more than anything and he's pretty sure you love him too but- marriage?! He's never had to deal with...that!? Out of desperation, he'd turn to Lan Xichen, who would give him the unhelpful advice of "Follow your heart and see where it leads you." thx m8, rly helpful.

At the end, he'd simply decide to ask you outright. And he was going to propose to you after the upcoming night hunt. He'd imagined it so romantic - him, returning to you, adrenaline-high and sweeping you off your feet with a proposal even the gods would envy.

But then you just HAD to request joining the night hunt. And Lan Xichen had the audacity to agree!

Each time he'd look at you, his heart would skip a beat, his face would flush and he'd forget his own name. It wasn't fair - that you decided to accompany him on his night hunt, since now he had a constant distraction. And of course, he'd complain about it. Not only did he have to look after himself, but now you too? Why was life so cruel?!

And of course, you'd just giggle with your perfect melodic voice and assure him you'd be perfectly fine, and that if something were to happen, you'd be safe and sound next to him. And of course his heart would do a 360 and run an entire marathon. Who needed sanity anyways? Not him, nope.

But night hunts aren't always safe. And that night, resentful energy had seeped much deeper within their hunting grounds than usual, bringing about an army of spirits to roam the dark forests. And when a few decided to sneak-attack, things took a turn for the worst, quicker than expected.

The ambush, of sorts, left you vulnerable, when everybody else ran in all directions, dealing with the spirits at hand. And as much as Jingyi was keeping an eye on you, in the dark of the night, amongst the resentful ghosts, he lost track of you. And panic struck over unlike anytime before. At once his fear of ghosts was utterly deminished and a single thought flooded his mind - where are you?

He stopped in the middle of the battle ground, looking at every direction imaginable. And surely enough - there you were, about to be attacked by a spirit.

And Lan Jingyi saw red. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of you, dead set on protecting you until the very end of time. And that he did.

Once the threat was taken care of, he turned to you, no disregard whatsoever about the others around him, and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, asking over and over if you're okay, if you're hurt and if you needed anything.

After having to assure him, that you are in good health, he pulled away from the hug, only to grab you by the shoulders and leave a quick kiss on your lips. Lan be damned, he nearly lost you.

"Forget anything, what if I wasn't there on time?! I just realised how unpredictable this life can be and now how do you expect me to rest peacefully, without you safe by my side? I almost lost you just now! How could I live with myself if that happened? God, this job is so dangerous! We live a life where any second could be our very last and I can't stand that thought! Let me protect you for all eternity and marry me!"

*cue dead silence from half of the Lan clan and a severely amused Wangxian.

Ouyang Zizhen

I call him - a modern day teenager in ancient China, which applies to his idea of marriage as well.

Out of all of the Juniors, he'd be the most set on actually proposing the "right way" - whatever that meant.

To him, a day meant for a proposal was a day meant for spoiling. It was a "show my love I'm ready to do anything for them" day. Was he an absolute nervous wreck? Yes. Was he showing it? ....well. That's arguable. Did you absolutely know something was off with him? Of course. You'd spend enough of your life with Zizhen to know him like your own name.

So, when he came up to you, gingerly asking if you'd like to go downtown for a little walk, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, you knew you were in for a wild ride - after all, that's one of Ouyang Zizhen's many charms - the adventurous spirit. ( ugh, he's such a Sagittarius. Don't @ me, we don't know his bday)

Upon setting foot in the middle of the town, he turned to you and smiled brightly. "Anything you pick today is all yours. Anywhere you want to go, we go. Anything you want to eat - will be given to you." And he meant it.

He didn't expect you to, however, disregard all of that, instead choosing to spend the day with him, simply walking around and talking. Perhaps drinking a cup of tea. And he followed your humble request, of course.

Yet he still wanted to spoil you - from the freshly baked goods further down the street, to some pretty hair ornament he absolutely insisted would look lovely on you. He just wanted to show you how much you meant to him. Alas, he just wasn't sure how.

He proudly strode by your side, hand in hand, despite his bashfulness, loving every minute spent with you. You ran around, enjoying each other's company, listening to the funny gossips, petting all kinds of animals in the streets, all until you got to a street musician. (I swear those have existed back then - I've seen a documentary, but if I'm wrong, do correct me ✌️ )

He ran up to him and whispered something you couldn't hear, then payed him. The musician in question smiled in return to him and changed the song to one you both recognised and loved. Turning to you with the most bashful of smiles, Zizhen spoke in a fairly hushed tone. "And this - this is for you."

Through a painfully big smile, you couldn't help but ask whether you were forgetting an anniversary, or if it was your birthday and you hadn't realised. The slight worry that you had forgotten some important day threw him off immediately and he frantically waved his hands. "Oh no, no, no. You haven't forgotten anything!" Then he grabbed your hand and turned to you fully.

"Today isn't an anniversary, but I was hoping it could be in the future... We've been together through so much and I wanted to repay you for all of the kindness, understanding, and love that you're giving me. And before you argue that repaying isn't an option, let me finish first. Sometimes I lie in bed at night, wondering what I've done to deserve you, what wonderful hero I must have been in a past life to have you here next to me. And then I always hear your beautiful voice in my head, reminding me, that you're here to stay and I just can't believe it. I wanted to make this day special for you, because I love you and I appreciate everything you've done for me. And well..there is one more thing. I've thought long and hard about this and... Well... I can't help but wonder, if you'd want to stay with me until the very end and marry me?"

Thank you for reading~

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silentstep · 4 years

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orchestral AU: The Untamed

I am legally required to do one of these for every fandom I’m ever in. HERE WE GO.

Wei Wuxian is a violinist. this is the EASIEST of them all, hands down. Wei Wuxian is the HERO and the PROTAGONIST and everything he does is done with maximum drama!!!! and never not once does it ever even occur to him for a single moment that he might not be the most important actor in the room. Something must be done and it’s up to him to do it. with FLAIR.

(I am a violinist. I know my own.)

Lan Wangji is a pianist. Lan Wangji is not actually a part of this orchestra. oh, he gets brought in a lot, because there’s plenty of orchestral works with pianos, but truly he is most comfortable in a little dark practice room playing Chopin. (And then of course he and his soulmate play Beethoven sonatas and it’s fucking incredible.)

Lan Xichen plays the cello! Ah, supportive, calm, diplomatic Xichen. Never the drama queen. Hidden depths behind that smile. Strong and beautiful, never aggressive or overbearing. Deeply faithful. (Why do I always associate cellos with fidelity? IDK but I do. They’re like the presence of a spaniel in old paintings.)

Jiang Cheng plays the clarinet. Extremely important, but overlooked b/c it’s not exactly glamorous. (“nobody respects clarinets,” I said confidently to Partner, who gave me the most appalled look: “you mean you don’t respect clarinets.” “they’re woodwinds.” “you’re such a violinist.”) Jiang Cheng practices hard and he shows up early to every single rehearsal and he’s part of the goddamn backbone of the orchestra but do you think that matters to anyone? No one’s looking at him! Wei Wuxian is showing off again!

Nie Mingjue plays the trombone. Powerful, bold, a nice range, not commonly a solo instrument (the Nie sect is all about that well-coordinated teamwork) but not one that’s relegated to oompahs of support either.

Wen Qing plays the oboe. Also very important. A little high-strung (“if anyone spends all their time carving reeds, it’s her,” said Partner, and I agree). Jiang Cheng keeps spares of her preferred reed knives & cane & stuff on his person just in case she ever needs anything. They’re part of the same orchestra! He’s just being responsible! Anyone would, probably!

Wen Ning’s not in the orchestra at all. He played Suzuki violin as a kid but his family wanted him to focus more on his studies, so he let it fall by the wayside. (Unbeknowest to them, he’s recently started getting into fiddle.)

Lan Qiren plays viola. Wei Wuxian has probably told viola jokes in his hearing. They’re probably the same ones his mother told in Lan Qiren’s hearing back in the day.

Lan Sizhui plays the bass. Strong, reliable, genuinely content out of the spotlight and in a position of support, doesn’t make a big deal out of the fact that he is very important. Laid-back and chill.

Lan Jingyi plays the french horn. Sweet, a little wacky. He cackles about it every time he gets to do the horn fifths to mean cuckoldry.

The Jins are all trumpeters. everyone hates Jin Zixun (who sucks, and is an ass) and lumps Jin Zixuan in with him, which is unfair because Zixuan is actually really really good at trumpet. like, yeah he sure knows it, but it’s completely justified! And he’s really very nice, just extremely shy about everything that isn’t playing music. Mianmian plays clarinet, but she hangs out with the trumpets most of time— well, with Zixuan, anyway, who’s her friend, and listen, Zixun is 100% an amoral ass but he genuinely does care about Zixuan, and even Mianmian in a way.

Jin Guangyao solely among the Jins does not play trumpet: he plays flute. Delicate, beautiful, ambitious (potentially murderous); the violinists of the winds. (listen to me. I say this as a violinist and a soprano. the highest voices of every ensemble are the same. high pitches are piercing! you know you’re gonna be heard. one of the biggest reasons for someone to choose the soprano part is because you want to be the one people are listening to whether they like it or not.)

Partner says Jiang Yanli plays the flute, which I’m actually gonna disagree with because I don’t think Jiang Yanli’s part of the orchestra, I think she’s in some sort of background managerial/support role. I’m making her the music librarian. She and Jin Zixuan have a very, very quiet mutual pining thing going on, where they’d both desperately like to spend time together but oh god every time they see each other their minds blank of any possible conversation topics and their hearts race and their hands get clammy and they just???? look at each other??? oh god they’re still looking. quick. quick say something. shit, no, that was the wrong thing to say—

it’s excruciating. Wei Wuxian tries to keep them apart and Mianmian tries to throw them together and Jiang Cheng is just trying to gently encourage Jiang Yanli to not be down on herself, and otherwise stays the fuck out of it.

Jin Ling plays trumpet, just like his dad. (don’t think about the timeline. there is no timeline.)

Su She, of course, plays the piano but isn’t as good as ~Hanguang-jun~. (Probably he’s genuinely better at other styles, but. That doesn’t matter, does it?)

Xiao Xingchen is a percussionist. Song Lan’s a cellist (quietly strong, devoted, precise, hardworking, serious, confident but not egotistical). They’re both extremely good— the orchestra was lucky to get them— but then something happened and Xiao Xingchen left and Song Lan has been frantically researching every single percussionist of every single orchestra worldwide and finding no trace of Xiao Xingchen’s career— he must be somewhere, surely, surely he hasn’t given up playing professionally altogether—!

Nope, Xiao Xingchen has joined a jazz band. He plays drumset now. A-Qing plays the electric guitar and Xue Yang plays saxophone. They’re called Coffin Town.

Nie Huaisang’s a violinist. He’s just barely hanging on in the back of the seconds; Nie Mingjue is always always on his back to just practice for fuck’s sake, there are professional standards to be upheld, but Huaisang is very committed to only ever doing the bare minimum to keep the job at all. (What almost zero people know is that his main passion is composition. He writes under a pseudonym, and the orchestra actually programs his work quite regularly; it’s weird but really compelling stuff.)

Wen Chao plays harp. He makes Wen Zhuliu do all the tuning, every single time, including setting the pedals. Wen Zhuliu’s life is very hard.

Ouyang Zizhen plays tuba. He’s happy back there.

#no good things for the poor sad cultivators #the untamed #orchestral AU CQL edition #ahahaha shit I just realised that the chief cultivator is probably the conductor #Wen Ruohan is a bad conductor you guys. Jin Guangshan ain't better #this has been rambling meta with silentstep

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grapefruitsketches · 4 years

Text

Always Have Your Back

For fytheuntamed’s Untamed Fall Fest Day 4: Thankful

Rated T, 1,807 Words

Sizhui-centric, Junior Quarter, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Mild Panic

Also available on AO3

It happened fast. One moment, they had the demon cornered, trapped under Jin Ling’s shaky but stable golden dome, the next moment, there was a sound of branches snapping, leaves rustling from behind and something – he didn’t see what – grabbed Sizhui from behind, pulling him back along with it into the dark woods.

Sizhui heard the surprised shouts, the calls of his name, before he and his captor were far out of earshot. And still, they kept moving, deeper and deeper into the woods.

Sizhui breathed in, filling his lungs as best he could against the crushing grip of the creature. He took a moment to assess, even as the backwards rushing of trees to his left and right made him dizzy.

He looked down, seeing purpled, decaying skin. Claws that doubled the length of the fingers gripped into his chest, his stomach. He ignored the flash of pain that accompanied seeing just how far in the claws dug.

This looked like the same sort of demon they’d been dealing with before. Vulnerable to being attacked on all sides, quick enough that fighting one on one was much harder.

But he wasn’t dead yet. So the demon must have had another motive, other than killing him outright.

And whether that motive was keeping him as its own or there was some more specific method it wanted to use to dispose of the young cultivator, there was no way it was good, though the former would give him more time to escape, he supposed.

Ok. So what could he reach?

The demon’s arms clamped his arms close to his body, and there was no way to contort his arm to reach his sword, and not much he could do with it even if he somehow could.

His sleeves then. What was in his sleeves? He tried to remember, moving his arms softly to see what he could find without attracting suspicion as the demon dragged him ever deeper, as the trees grew ever denser.

Perfect! His skin brushed paper. He was still carrying blank talisman paper from earlier – Wei-qianbei had been teaching him some basics these last few months and he had been practicing before he and his friends had set out on this night hunt.

Ok. Good. Talisman paper could help him do all kinds of things so long as he could cut his finger on something and manage to get the paper into his hand and somehow write the characters and symbols needed.

He bent his wrist, flinching in anticipation before… WHAM, a branch whacked into his fingers, slicing the skin. The branch had certainly let the blood flow, but had maybe broken a finger or two in the process. Something to worry about later, hopefully.

So now to shift the talisman paper down. Slowly… slowly. There!

The paper fell into his palm. He shifted it awkwardly to the tips of his pinkie finger and thumb, trying not to get any blood on it, hoping the air rushing by hadn’t dried the blood too quickly. He stretched his index finger back and touched the paper, relieved to find his finger slid across easily, plenty of blood still running freely, though he flinched as his maybe-broken-maybe-not finger pressed against the page.

He worked quickly, and, hoping the talisman was well drawn enough to work, stuck it onto the demon wherever he could reach.

The demon dropped like a stone, Sizhui able to celebrate only a moment before the ground met him and the demon. There was a loud crack, and Sizhui had no doubt that his arm had just broken. But that was not important right now.

Sizhui, as soon as they hit the ground, had been ready. The demon released its grip in its shock only momentarily, but Sizhui used this time to roll quickly away.

The demon was pinned to the ground by the charm, but this would not hold for long. Taking only a few moments to calm his breaths, Sizhui drew his sword, grateful that his sword arm had only potential finger fractures, not definite arm breaks. He swung his arm high.

But before he could lower the blade, three sets of arrows landed in the demon’s core. It struggled, shuddered, then lay still.

Sizhui stood, frozen in shock, arm still raised though the strike was now unnecessary. He blinked once, twice. The only sound his heart, pounding in his ears.

“Sizhui!” Jingyi’s voice shook him out of his trance. He lowered his sword, sheathing it.

He turned. Jin Ling, Ouyang Zizhen and Lan Jingyi stumbled out from the brush into the small clearing created by the demon crashing down into it. He beamed widely at his friends, even as tears of fear, of relief, filled his eyes, “Y-you’re h-here!” he managed, voice shakier than he had anticipated.

“Of course we’re here, where else would we–“ Jingyi’s eyes widened, spotting the odd angle that Sizhui’s arm hung at, the tears in his robes where the monster had gripped him, the probably not insubstantial cuts on his face from the branches on the way down, “You’re hurt!”

“Ah,” Sizhui smiled weakly, “It’s nothing, really. I’m fine.”

He really wished his knee hadn’t wobbled, buckled, just as he said that. He straightened back up quickly though.

“Sure you are,” Jingyi replied.

“You’re bleeding!” Zizhen said.

Jin Ling, eyes wide and staring at the place where Sizhui gripped his arm, said nothing, but moved over to Sizhui, sliding an arm under his (mostly) uninjured arm, supporting him.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Jin Ling said.

And suddenly Jingyi was at his other side, gently supporting his back, avoiding touching his arm, “Yeah, let’s go. We sent up a signal. Help should be here soon.”

Sizhui’s smile wavered. “Help” would certainly mean some combination of Hanguang-jun, Wei-qianbei, and Wen-xiansheng, and if any of them saw him half-carried in like this…

“Ah, I’m really fine! I can walk!” Sizhui chuckled, trying to make light of the situation, “It was my arms, not my legs, remember?”

“Sizhui…” Zizhen said skeptically, casting his gaze backwards towards the clearing, the mess made by Sizhui and the demon’s fall, and traced the path from there up to Sizhui’s still bleeding wounds, his broken arm, “I don’t really know if you’re in a state where you should…”

Sizhui sighed, “Well… Zizhen, I think you said you brought bandages with you? Can we at least, ah, wrap the worst of it before we get back?”

Sizhui couldn’t see his face, but he knew Jingyi well enough to know he had just rolled his eyes, “You really think they’re not going to notice if we just ‘wrap up the worst of it’?”

Sizhui let a smile flicker across his face, “Are you refusing me treatment, Jingyi?”

“You know, everyone thinks you’re so nice, but sometimes, you’re insufferable.” Jingyi laughed, but he and Jin Ling set him down.

Sizhui closed his eyes, trying to focus on breathing, on healing as Zizhen wiped his face clean with a dry cloth, wrapped his arm, his torso, and his fingers in bandages. Sizhui smiled gently, without opening his eyes, at his friend’s occasional sniffling as he uncovered more of the wounds, “I’m really ok, Zizhen.”

“Stop that.” Jin Ling cut in sharply.

Sizhui frowned, confused, “Stop what?”

“Stop just…” Jin Ling huffed in frustration, “Stop acting like we’re the ones who need help, who need comforting. You’re… you’re hurt! We should have been there to help you before, and now at least let us help you now!”

“But…” Sizhui was at a loss for words, concentration completely broken. He opened his eyes, “But you were there to help? I was the one who got caught off-guard, got taken, got…” his breath quickened, remembering those moments of fear. Where all he could do was consider whether he was in immediate or more long-term risk of harm. Moments where he wasn’t sure yet if he was defenseless, subject entirely to the demon’s whims.

“Sizhui?” Jingyi cut into his thoughts, voice full of concern.

“It’s… it’s nothing. Just thinking.” Sizhui smiled again.

“You know…” Jingyi crossed his arms, watching as Zizhen pulled the bandage tight around Sizhui’s arm, holding it in place, making Sizhui flinch involuntarily, “I don’t say this a lot, but I agree with Jin Ling. You’re allowed to lean on us, even just for a moment.”

Sizhui opened his mouth to protest, but lost any hope of winning this argument as Zizhen nodded easily alongside Jingyi’s comment.

If all three of them were agreeing, then he supposed maybe there was something to it. They all looked at him. Bandaging done, waiting for him to tell them how they should proceed, varying degrees of concern, skepticism, and disapproval on each of their faces.

“So?” Jingyi asked.

Sizhui relented, “Fine. I’ll take your help,” he smiled mischievously, “as long as none of you take any blame, or guilt from this?”

“No promises, but I’ll try.” Jingyi said, smirking as the other two nodded. He moved a hand back behind Sizhui, boosting him from one side as Jin Ling helped from the other.

“I’ll take it.” Sizhui laughed.

They chatted about nothing on the way back to the field in which they had started.

To Sizhui’s dismay, but also a little to his amusement, he spotted an endlessly pacing Wei Wuxian, a tense and stiff Hanguang-jun, and a nervous and watchful Wen Qionglin all waiting for them.

At the sound of movement, all three tensed, preparing to defend against anything that might emerge, but immediately relaxed at the sight of the four juniors. Smiling and (mostly) well.

At the sight of Sizhui, Wei Wuxian fussed. Hanguang-jun asked many questions. Wen Qionglin pulled out some tinctures he had brought “just in case.”

They made it back to Cloud Recesses, and Sizhui was sent immediately to bed – no arguing allowed. As Sizhui lay back on his bed, he thought about the day, the demon, the panicked moments when he had thought he was one his own, that if he couldn’t figure it out himself, it could be his end.

But now, reflecting on it, he realized he had had nothing to worry about. He was fine. He could take care of himself. He knew that. But even if he wasn’t, even if he couldn’t, those six people would always have his back, just as he would always have theirs.

Sizhui loved his family. He adored his friends. And even if, sometimes, they could be a little much, he was thankful for these six people. Six people who would be there for him. To rescue him, to tend to any injury, or to relieve any worry.

He smiled to himself as he tucked himself into his bed. He wasn’t alone. He would never be alone. And for that, he could only be grateful.

#untamed fall fest #lan sizhui #junior quartet #lan jingyi #jin ling #ouyang zizhen #cql #the untamed #mdzs

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