#lan xichen my beloved | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ibijau · 2 years

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Nie Huaisang thinks Lan Xichen hides no secrets. Lan Xichen proves him wrong.

strong warning for internalised homophobia and a lot of internalised transphobia, though this has a happy ending // Also on AO3

The early afternoon sun of that spring day made the Hanshi pleasantly warm, while in the air hung the delicate fragrance of one of Lan Xichen’s favourite teas. This, combined with the company of Nie Huaisang sitting on the other side of a low table, sharing that tea with him after a few weeks of separation, ought to have been the recipe for perfect happiness. Yet Nie Huaisang was restless as he spoke, his expression turning darker with every word. Before very long he put his nearly untouched glass back on the table, and let out a frustrated sigh.

It was unsurprising, Lan Xichen thought. That day Nie Huaisang had seemed determined to confess in more detail the exact nature of his interactions with the late Mo Xuanyu, a topic that he had so far always done his best to avoid, often denying that any such interactions had existed at all. Lan Xichen would have felt the value of Nie Huaisang merely trusting him enough to admit that he’d known that man, but Nie Huaisang himself had wanted to say more, though with little success.

“I guess it’s just difficult to share these things with you,” Nie Huaisang said while staring into his tea, “because you’re such an honest and open person. I can’t imagine you’ve ever kept secrets. Not really. I can’t even imagine you ever doing anything that might need to be kept secret.”

He laughed then, in the way he always laughed when he said something that hurt him. Normally it made Lan Xichen want to reach out to him, made him want to hold that man he loved in spite of the hurt they’d caused each other, that man who was working so hard on allowing himself to be loved. That slow and torturous process had involved many afternoon such as that one, where Nie Huaisang shared a few more of his secrets, terrible ones often but so many benign ones as well, and for each one looked scared that it might be more than Lan Xichen was willing to tolerate. They would hug then, and on days where Nie Huaisang could be convinced he wasn’t evil incarnate they might kiss too. But that day was not one of those easier ones, and Nie Huaisang had struggled through their whole conversation, barely managing to be polite, lashing out at every remembrance of their shared past.

All of it Lan Xichen had endured with love and patience, until that last remark.

“I have secrets too,” Lan Xichen said, frowning in spite of himself.

Something about this bothered him. It might have been that he resented being considered too good to hold secrets. He wasn’t good, no more than Nie Huaisang was evil. They were both flawed humans. Lan Xichen needed Nie Huaisang to accept that he was flawed. He could not have borne another friendship like the one he had shared with Jin Guangyao, who in the end had expected him to be perfect, as everyone else did.

But no, that wasn’t it. Nie Huaisang knew Lan Xichen’s faults well enough. Something else then…

“You really have secrets?” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, his earlier melancholy dissipating, replaced by hungry curiosity. “You? Ah, I wonder… not that you need to tell me, of course,” he quickly corrected, and his expression, so open for a moment, turned guarded again. “I respect your privacy.”

And there it was, Lan Xichen realised, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. Here was the thing that bothered him.

For several months now, Lan Xichen had listened as Nie Huaisang confessed those things he had done after his brother’s death, as this man bared himself for him to the very core of his soul, showing him a level of trust that must have been excruciating for someone who had survived so long by trusting no one. Yet when offered that trust, Lan Xichen had never dared to reciprocate. He had let Nie Huaisang bring his darkest secrets to the light, while hiding his own so well that even Nie Huaisang, who doubted everything and everyone, never suspected he had anything to hide.

How unfair, to take so much and never give anything in return.

“I have one secret, at the very least,” Lan Xichen said, surprised to find that his voice was trembling. “The only person I tried to share it with refused to hear it,” he explained, and Nie Huaisang, without a word, reached out for Lan Xichen’s hands over the table. It was easier, like this. Last time, when he had tried to speak about it, he had been denied any comfort, but this time perhaps… “You might think less of me once I tell you,” he said, and Nie Huaisang’s hands tightened on his. “But since you have told me the same thing many times, and my regard for you has never diminished, I hope to be wrong.”

“I cannot imagine there is anything that would make me love you less,” Nie Huaisang retorted.

Lan Xichen smiled as best as he could, trying to convince himself he believed those words. He found that he couldn’t, not quite. And yet, Nie Huaisang had earned his honesty. So Lan Xichen started speaking.

It might have been easier if he had always known about it. If, from the first moment he’d been aware of the identity that was meant to be his, Lan Xichen had known the expectations thrust upon him did not fit. But he was always an obedient child, trying hard to be what others needed him to be. And what they needed was a strong heir, a young man upon whom they could rely, one who would never stray from the orthodox path in any way. Even his mother, more lenient with him than other adults in his life, was satisfied to have given birth to him as he was. Two strong, healthy boys, an heir and a spare, such was the price she had paid to stay alive when her crime would have condemned her to death.

If Lan Xichen, as a child, had been the sort to allow himself to doubt what his elders demanded of him, perhaps things would have been different. If he had known earlier, he might have had less doubts later.

“But as it was I had a very normal, very peaceful childhood, and my years as a teenager brought me only the inconvenience of realising I liked men in a manner that did not suit my family’s plans,” Lan Xichen said with a wry smile. “But even that taste served me well, if only because it taught me to repress the parts of me that did not fit the man I was supposed to be.”

Nie Huaisang made a displeased noise, perhaps because he’d had so much trouble convincing Lan Xichen to stop thinking that way.

Still, what mattered was that Lan Xichen had never felt odd. He had never felt any calling. He had never felt any doubt.

Not until his home burned and he was forced to flee, carrying with him what could be grabbed from their library. He had run and fought to the point of exhaustion and then past it, sustained only by the strength of his golden core and his immense desperation, until he had arrived to a town called Yunping City, where a kind young man named Meng Yao had rescued him and offered to hide him while he recuperated (and there Nie Huaisang wrinkled his nose of course, but they’d had that argument before. Whatever else he had become in life, Lan Xichen still owed his life to a boy named Meng Yao, who had taken great risks to protect him, and never asked anything in return).

But Meng Yao had not been able to hide Lan Xichen where he lived, of course.

“Right, he had a room in his employer’s house, didn’t he?” Nie Huaisang asked, who had heard the story before. “And so his brilliant idea was to send you to a brothel. I’m still surprised you agreed.”

Sometimes, Lan Xichen too found that hard to believe. But then again, he remembered so little of his first day in Yunping, except exhaustion and despair and the way he’d fallen to his knees in an alley, too weak to go on. He hadn’t even had the strength to find something to eat when Meng Yao had found him, recognised him as a cultivator, and guessed that his pitiful state had to be linked to certain rumours that had started to spread, about a great sect attacked by another. Meng Yao had gone to buy a cup of tea for Lan Xichen from a street vendor, saving him from dehydration, and offered to find him a place to hide until he could flee once more.

That first day, Lan Xichen wasn’t sure he had realised he’d been taken to a brothel. He’d only cared about sleeping for the first time in nearly two weeks. But when he’d woken up on the evening of the second day, he’d quickly understood what sort of a place he was in. The decor of the room he’d been settled in left very little doubt to that, and neither did the noises coming from the rest of the building. Through his exhaustion, he had felt ashamed of being in such a place. Then, after that first thought, he’d become ashamed of his shame. He had no right to think himself superior to these women, when desperation had pushed him to hide amongst them.

It wasn’t until the first light of dawn that someone came to check on him, a young woman with a scarred face who brought him rice and tea on behalf of Meng Yao, and apologised that none of it was good enough for such an honoured guest. Lan Xichen remembered drinking the tea. He remembered also that he’d just started eating the rice when another woman, this one middle-aged, barged into the room warning them that Wen cultivators were searching every brothel in the street, supposedly because of a murderer, but more likely because they wanted to have their fun without paying for it.

Lan Xichen remembered panicking, but the scarred woman had soothed him, and promised to hide him, for the sake of Meng Yao (that same Meng Yao told him years later that the woman, Sisi, must have simply feared the fate that awaited her if the Wens learned she’d helped their enemy, but Lan Xichen had been touched by her kindness, and to that day still chose to believe she had merely done it because it was the right thing to do). Sisi had borrowed a set of clothes from a servant and helped Lan Xichen put them on, hiding his white clothes in the secret place where she kept the money with which she hoped to buy her freedom, and instructing him to act as if he were at her service.

The clothes she had given him were those of a woman.

Putting them on, Lan Xichen had not reflected much on the oddity of this. He’d been too busy being grateful to this woman who told him he would be safe with her, because no cultivator would ever choose to lay with a woman with her face like hers. And then the Wens had come, and both he and Sisi had trembled for their lives while they stayed there, abusing some of the women but leaving her alone after inspecting her room, as she had predicted. Lan Xichen had felt like a coward for hiding, but he’d been relieved to be left alone, knowing he hadn’t yet regained his strength enough to fight. Once the Wens had left, Sisi and him had both fallen asleep, too drained by their anxious waiting to change.

Lan Xichen had woken up on the floor a while later at the prescribed time, while Sisi still snored on her bed. There wasn’t a sound in the entire building except, somewhere, the seductive laughter of a woman still entertaining one last customer. Lan Xichen had finally felt rested enough to consider his situation and wonder what his next move ought to be. But as he told himself he should leave soon to avoid putting Sisi and the other women in danger, and he allowed his eyes to wander around the room, his eyes fell on a large bronze mirror.

He remembered being surprised that a prostitute of Sisi’s statute could be allowed such a luxurious vanity. Some years later, he had learned that some men enjoyed seeing themselves as they had intercourse with women, and so some of the more enterprising brothels would have mirrors. But that morning he hadn’t really thought about the possible uses of such a mirror, because on its dark surface he saw a woman who was staring at him.

She was not the most beautiful of women, her jaw a little too strong, her eyes not shy enough, her shoulders broader than would be preferable, but not all women could be enchanting enough to make emperors lose their heads, and this one still had enough charm to be pleasant.

Lan Xichen had blinked, and the woman was still staring at him, her gaze hungry and unflinching in a way he never allowed his own to be.

Never in his life had Lan Xichen ever desired to be anything but what others told him he should be.

This quiet morning in a brothel changed that.

That morning, for the first time in his life, Lan Xichen hard yearned to be something that was entirely him.

“It terrified me,” he laughed, staring down at the table before him to avoid looking at Nie Huaisang, unwilling to see the expression on his lover’s face, who had not said a word in so long. “I undressed immediately so I wouldn’t see that woman anymore. What a sight I must have made, stark naked in a prostitute’s room, scared of my own reflection. I am glad there was no one to see me. I’m glad I was left alone for most of that morning, so I could recollect myself and try to erase that moment of weakness.”

It had been nearly midday when Meng Yao had returned, bringing him better food that the brothel had to offer, telling him that another safe house had been found for him in town, among respectable people this time. A man whose brother had been a rogue cultivator until the Wens killed him for trespassing upon their territory, and who now delighted in helping anyone who claimed to be an enemy of the Wens. Meng Yao had brought a new disguise for Lan Xichen to wear as they walked through the city, and again those were the clothes of a servant, but a male one this time.

Lan Xichen had not allowed himself to wish he could have used again the clothes Sisi had lent him.

He had not allowed himself to think again of that quiet morning, and the woman in the mirror, not for several years.

“It was easy enough,” he confessed. “There was the Sunshot Campaign that demanded so much of my time, and then we had to rebuild the Cloud Recesses, and after that I was so busy worrying over Wangji’s obsession for Wei Wuxian… But then I was invited to the wedding of Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli.”

It had been a beautiful and extravagant affair, or so Lan Xichen remembered it. The Jin, who had lost so little to the Sunshot Campaign, had taken this chance to show off their wealth. A few people, including Nie Mingjue and Lan Qiren, had found this to be in poor taste, yet Lan Xichen had suspected that if he and Nie Huaisang were to be married (to others, to women, never to each other, he could not have allowed himself to think of that, not at that time) then their relatives would also want to show the world that their sects had the means to do things right. And besides it was hard to hate even Jin Guangshan when the young couple looked so happy, when Jiang Yanli in particular, who was barely more than a little above average in looks, was that day radiantly beautiful in her joy.

Lan Xichen must have stared too much. Nie Mingjue had noticed, and told him that he’d have his turn soon enough, if he just asked for it to be arranged.

It had been so easy to imagine it. To picture that woman he’d seen in the mirror, back in that brothel in Yunping City, dressed in red robes, decorated with golden jewellery, a red veil above her face that her husband would lift when they were alone so he could kiss her.

The intense longing which stabbed through Lan Xichen’s heart was enough to make him lose his self control. He had never wanted anything more than he wanted this, than he wanted to be the wife of a gentle man, one who would smile at her the way Jin Zixuan smiled at his wife. Lan Xichen, to his shame, remembered shedding a few tears over that impossible desire, and hurriedly excusing himself from the banquet.

“Mingjue found me in the gardens later,” he sighed. “He was sorry to have caused me distress, and wouldn’t leave me alone until I had explained my reaction. So I lied to him,” Lan Xichen said, and he heard Nie Huaisang gasp in sincere shock. “I could not explain to him the truth. I couldn’t understand it myself. But I gave him another reason why a wedding might feel like an impossible dream, and I told him about my preference for men. He was very kind about it, and encouraged me to speak with you about it.”

“He didn’t!” Nie Huaisang gasped, and at last Lan Xichen found the courage to look at him. Nie Huaisang’s expression was guarded, but that was better than disgust or disdain.

“He thought you might have some tips on how to discreetly enjoy my preferences in a manner that would not be noticed, away from the cultivation world. And I tried to lead some of our conversations on such topics, once or twice, but I gave up very soon. The way you spoke of preferring men, of other men like yourself, felt too different from my own feelings. It made me uncomfortable.”

Lan Xichen had, around that time, started to wonder if he maybe wanted other men not the way men did, but in the manner a woman would. He disliked that. It brought unrest to his mind. This and thoughts of his reflection would plague him whenever he tried to meditate. Worst still, he would sometimes catch himself staring at his mirror while getting ready for the day and holding his hair up in the manner of a feminine hairdo, or folding his clothes around his shoulders in such a manner that his chest might look like a cleavage from the right angle. After some months, he had taken to punishing himself every time he did that, to break a habit that only brought him distress.

Punishment hadn’t worked.

He still saw that woman who was and wasn’t him every time he caught sight of his reflection. She dressed like a man, but it was still her, and she haunted him.

Lan Xichen had been on the verge of confiding in his uncle when Wei Wuxian offered a distraction from his internal turmoil by declaring war upon the cultivation world.

What happened in the Nightless City, and later the Siege of the Burial mound, almost cost Lan Xichen his brother. But more importantly, it was a waking call for him. This was what happened to those who strayed from the righteous path. For a man to dream of being a woman was wrong. Lan Xichen took great pains in reminding himself that it was nonsense, that it was despicable, that he dishonoured his sect, his family, his ancestors. As he had done during the Sunshot Campaign, he managed again to rid himself of these nonsensical desires.

He told himself he had rid himself of them.

It had nothing to do with his perversion when he took care of the little orphan his brother had brought home from who knew where, the little boy Lan Xichen had known, even then, was the closest thing to a son he would ever have (and he’d thought it really was Lan Wangji’s son, perhaps born of a Wen woman who Wei Wuxian had hidden in his den). He cared for the sick child, treated his fever, held him through nightmares, bathed him and fed him, sang for him… but none of this made him a woman, he reminded himself through it all. Men too cared for their children, so he refused to delude himself again. He refused to wonder what it would have been like if his body had been different, if it had let him bear a child of his own, to carry it within him and give birth to it, to care for it as he now cared for little Lan Yuan, to teach it and love it and watch it grow.

He would not stray from the righteous path.

His self control lasted longer this time. For the few years that followed, he could convince himself that he saw a man in his reflection.

He remained strong, until a few weeks after Nie Mingjue’s death.

He had endured, at first. The need to help Nie Huaisang had given him the strength to set aside his own pain. He endured and smiled and stayed strong until he came home again and the horror of having seen his oldest and dearest friend die before him, in the exact manner Nie Mingjue had most feared, caught up with him. Lan Xichen collapsed inside his home, and found himself too broken by pain to leave again.

It was then that the woman returned to him.

Where he had trained himself to see only a man in his mirror, he once more saw a woman, gazing pleadingly at him, begging him to let her out, to let them both be happy. He resisted for a while, but soon enough he broke and resumed his old game, using what he had on hand to make himself up like a woman.

“There are no words for the joy it gave me,” Lan Xichen whispered, having long ago gone back to staring at the table between Nie Huaisang and him. He had even withdrawn his hands from his lover’s, even that simple contact terrifying him as he grew closer to a certain part of his story. “The world around me felt so dark and hopeless. I had lost my dearest friend. Lan Yuan had grown old enough to go live with the other younger juniors. My brother was in seclusion, and I believed he would resent me when he left it. You I did not know how to feel about, scolding myself for the embers of attractions I had to extinguish. I felt so lonely. But when I allowed myself to be this person… someone who existed to please no one but myself… I could forget the pain sometimes. Just the sight of myself, looking the way I ought to have looked, gave me a pleasure to which never has ever compared. Perhaps it was too good. Perhaps I should have known it could not be allowed to last.”

“Someone saw you?” Nie Huaisang guessed, his voice unbearably gentle.

Lan Xichen nodded.

He had been careless that day. He had retired to the Hanshi earlier than usual, tired after dealing with squabbles between disciples, desperate to be himself. He had warned his uncle he would not dine, that he would meditate instead and Lan Qiren, who often did the same, had not suspected anything. Once alone, Lan Xichen had dressed himself with great care, imagining he was waiting for his husband to come home, or for his children to return from their classes. Caught up in this pretty little lie he’d woven, he hadn’t heard the knock on the door.

He heard the horrified gasp Jin Guangyao made when he saw him with his robes wrapped around him in a crude imitation of a woman’s dress, and he saw the disgust on his friend’s face. For a long moment they stared at each other, until Jin Guangyao regained control of himself, turning his face into a carefully blank mask as he said he would wait outside for Lan Xichen to dress.

Lan Xichen had arranged his clothes, his hair, so he would look again like the man others needed him to be. He’d opened his door, and offered to explain.

“I so desperately wanted to explain it to him,” Lan Xichen whispered. “He was my last remaining friend, the one person I thought would never judge me. I thought that perhaps, having grown up among people outside of the norm, he might… but he refused to listen. He told me I would never do that again, and we would never speak of it again. I promised. I kept that promise, too. I never let the woman out again.”

“Not even now that he’s dead?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“I have been tempted. But the fear of being caught again…” Lan Xichen shivered, and wiped away a few tears. It had been years, a decade now, and yet he still remembered Jin Guangyao’s expression, still felt nauseous at the idea of anyone else looking at him that way.

Nie Huaisang stood up without a word. Lan Xichen curled on himself thinking it had been too much, that his secret had been too awful, so much worse that what Nie Huaisang himself had kept to himself. A man could be excused for spilling blood in the name of revenge, but not for wishing to be a woman.

Yet Nie Huaisang did not leave the Hanshi. He did not shout insults, did not kick Lan Xichen, nor did he do any of the terrible things for which his lover had prepared himself. Instead Nie Huaisang came to sit next to Lan Xichen, close enough for their knees to touch.

“Lan Huan, I am going to hug you now,” Nie Huaisang warned. “And I will hold you close for a very long time.”

“If you do that, I will cry.”

“Good. I encourage it. I think you have not cried enough in your life, and if you do not cry when I am here to hold you, when will you do it?”

It was a good enough argument, and hearing it gave Lan Xichen the courage to look at his lover's face again. There was not a trace of repulsion in Nie Huaisang's expression, no contempt either, only the deep sorrow he would show sometimes when Lan Xichen talked about parts of his life that seemed normal to him, but which Nie Huaisang found needlessly cruel for anyone to have lived through. Nie Huaisang then opened his arms in invitation, and Lan Xichen allowed himself to fall into his lover's embrace, letting Nie Huaisang hold him as close as he could.

Lan Xichen had meant it as a joke when he had threatened to cry. But held like this, with his face hidden in the crook of Nie Huaisang's neck, he did cry. A few tears only at first, nearly held back by his sect's rules against excessive emotion, but since no one was there to scold him, since instead Nie Huaisang gentle hands rubbed circles on his back while his voice promised love and safety, those weak tears turned into heavy sobs. He cried and cried until he couldn't breathe, until there was not a single tear left in him, until his sobs started sounding more like pained moans. Through it all Nie Huaisang held him and kissed his hair, whispering to him that he was not alone, that he was loved, that everything would be fine.

It took a long time for Lan Xichen to calm down. He felt a little tired for having cried in that manner, but more importantly he was calmer now. Nie Huaisang, expert crier, encouraged him to drink what was left of their tea lest he get hit later by the worst effects of dehydration. The tea had gone a little bitter as it cooled, but still felt refreshing and Lan Xichen easily finished it.

"Do you need more?" Nie Huaisang asked.

"No," Lan Xichen said, his voice a little raw. "We will be brought dinner soon enough, I'll drink more then."

"Do you need to cry some more?"

Lan Xichen chuckled, and shook his head. "I'm fine now. Thank you. Not only for letting me cry, but also… thank you."

For listening, for not being disgusted, for not demanding that Lan Xichen conform to his expectation, for being there, for loving him even now.

"I have a few questions," Nie Huaisang carefully said, and Lan Xichen's precarious peace shattered. Nie Huaisang noticed and quickly grabbed his hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it gently. "Lan Huan, no, don't worry!" he pleaded. "I just want to understand, and I want to know if I can make things less painful for you. We don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to, but I would like to talk more at some point anyway."

"Go on then," Lan Xichen sighed, unsure he would find the courage again in the future. "Ask your questions."

Nie Huaisang kissed his hand again.

"Let's start with… with the most basic one, to be sure I understood well. You feel your truest self is a woman?"

Lan Xichen felt his cheeks heat up. "It sounds so stupid, doesn't it?"

"But that is how you feel?"

"Yes."

Nie Huaisang nodded, clearly satisfied to have gotten that right. "Then I must ask this, too: when we are alone, would you like me to address you as a woman?"

Lan Xichen shivered. "I don't know. I've never thought of that. I don't think it would be a good idea. I'd be scared of a slip up."

"Lan Huan, never in ten year did anyone ever guess my true loathing for Jin Guangyao, nor what I was doing in the shadows. I think you can trust me to compartmentalise efficiently.”

“It is not you I distrust,” Lan Xichen said. “I merely fear that if I allow myself too much freedom, I will betray myself in public someday, and others won’t be as forgiving as you are.”

“I see. But if you didn’t have to worry about others finding out, would you like to be addressed as a woman?”

“I don’t know,” Lan Xichen repeated, overwhelmed by the combined delight and horror such an idea caused him. After so many years spent trying to erase that part of himself, of refusing to even think of himself as a woman, it made him nearly dizzy to imagine being treated as what he knew himself to be.

“Then what if I tried now?” Nie Huaisang offered, kissing his hand again. “To see how it feels?”

The sensation of dizziness increased, but Lan Xichen found the strength to nod.

“Jiejie,” Nie Huaisang said with open affection. “Lan jiejie. Lan Guniang. Xichen jiejie.”

Lan Xichen had to pull his hand away from Nie Huaisang’s grasp and, overcome with emotion, found that he still had some tears left in him after all.

“If it hurts you, I won’t do it again,” Nie Huaisang said, putting his hand on Lan Xichen’s shoulder. “A-Huan, it’s fine, I won’t do it if you hate it, please don’t be sad.”

“I’m not sad,” Lan Xichen sniffed.

“Then why are you crying?”

“I don’t know. I think… I think I might be happy? I… I really don’t know. I’ve never thought I could ever… Would you really put up with such a caprice, for me?”

Nie Huaisang chuckled, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

“Jiejie, that’s not a caprice, and I would know. I’m an expert.”

This time, hearing himself called that way so naturally, the way ‘jiejie’ flowed from Nie Huaisang’s lips as easily as ‘gege’ did before that moment, caused something sharp and warm to explode inside Lan Xichen’s chest, nearly making it impossible to breathe.

He liked that.

He really liked that.

Liking it so much, Lan Xichen tried to take it a little further, to think of himself as a she rather than a he. It caused that warmth to increase, but regretfully so did the accompanying sharpness. It would take time to undo what a lifetime of fear and repression had done, but with the support of someone who finally understood and was willing to help, Lan Xichen thought that someday he, she, might stop being so afraid.

For now, in the mood for a real caprice, Lan Xichen fell back into Nie Huaisang’s arms who did not protest, and happily held his lover close to him.

“I have another question,” Nie Huaisang announced, and this time Lan Xichen did not panic nor pull away. “If you could change your body into that of a woman, would you?”

“It’s impossible,” Lan Xichen immediately protested, nuzzling closer still.

“But if it were possible?”

“There would be so many things to consider. My sect does not like the idea of a female set leader. Lan Yi left a rather bad impression on us.”

“This isn’t about what your sect wants, jiejie.”

“But considering the impact of my choices on Gusu Lan is a part of who I am, just as much as this,” Lan Xichen retorted. “It is not the only thing that would cause me to hesitate, if I was offered such a chance. I would also fear losing you.”

“Now that’s a funny answer,” Nie Huaisang said, pulling back to stare at Lan Xichen with wide eyes. “And why would you lose me if you could be granted this wish?”

“You prefer men,” Lan Xichen pointed out.

“I do prefer them,” Nie Huaisang agreed, hugging Lan Xichen close again. “Most of my partners have been men. But that isn’t to say I am not partial to women on occasions, and to you at all times. Jiejie, you could turn into a worm and I would still love you.”

Lan Xichen smiled, and pressed a brief kiss on Nie Huaisang’s lips.

“Then I suppose… if I knew you would stay at my side, if I knew my sect could be convinced to accept me like that… yes. Yes, I would… I’d want to change my…”

Lan Xichen couldn’t even finish saying it, too overwhelmed.

“Good,” Nie Huaisang said. “Then I’ll find a way. I will!” he insisted when Lan Xichen let out an amused scoff. “Jiejie, after all the research I’ve done these last few years, I know more about curses than anyone alive except maybe Wei Wuxian, and I can promise you that there are curses that will change a person’s body in the manner that would suit you.”

“I don’t want to be cursed,” Lan Xichen protested.

“I’d have Wei Wuxian help me modify a suitable one to make sure it’s harmless, of course,” Nie Huaisang said. “And for safety we’d need one that can be lifted, in case you find out that having such a body does not bring you the peace you’d hoped for. But a controlled curse seems like our best option. Nobody could even say anything against you for that change. If you’re cursed, they’d have to accept it, and they’d never guess it’s actually a blessing in disguise.”

“You are ridiculous,” Lan Xichen laughed, while feeling that same warm and sharp sensation return. To be seen as a woman by everyone, to give others no choice but to treat her as she wanted to be treated… It was not something that Lan Xichen alone would have dared, but with Nie Huaisang to offer help and support, it didn’t seem so impossible.

And even if that plan didn’t work, even if they didn’t resort to a curse, there were other things they could do, less dangerous ones. Nie Huaisang would continue to call Lan Xichen ‘jiejie’, and perhaps he might help with buying clothes fitting a woman of high rank, and if they went night hunting somewhere isolated perhaps they might pass for a married couple among strangers.

Lan Xichen felt almost too bold, having such desires, wanting things that served no one’s interests but her own. It seemed selfish.

But a little selfishness was good sometimes, so Lan Xichen kept wishing for the things that had always seemed impossible until then, the things that might now be within grasp…

And as she reached for these things, she knew she wouldn’t be alone.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #trans woman lxc my beloved

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