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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

CQL-verse! The characters have the same age gaps between them as their actors and actresses! Wwx and Jyl are the same age, jc is 5 years younger than them. Lxc is 3 years younger than wwx&jyl and lwj is 3 years younger than him. Nmj is two years older than wwx&jyl and nhs is 8 years younger than him and the same age as lwj. (1/2)

Meng Yao is 2 years older than nhs and jzx is 2 years older than MY. I'm leaving the Wen Sibs out of this because otherwise WN would be the same age as wwx and WQ would be 4 years younger than him. But hey! If you want to go with that, go crazy! I was thinking more of Yunmeng Sibs focus, but I will be happy with anything! (2/2)

ao3

Untamed

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect to the point of death and war, but he had always had trouble hating sad and gentle Wen Ning.

Wen Ning was technically his peer – there were only two years between them in age – and therefore capable of the same sorts of responsibilities and duties towards righteousness as Nie Mingjue, meaning that he ought to hate him as much as all the rest. But at the same time, Wen Ning was only part of the main branch family indirectly, a ward of Wen Ruohan; he was constantly suppressed and even tormented by Wen Chao, the eldest son of that family. If anything, it seemed almost as if he’d been brought into the family just to act as the family’s scapegoat, the inferior copy that was so hapless that he made that self-indulgent hedonist Wen Chao appear somewhat competent in contrast.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t imagine treating any of his own cousins that way.

He and Wen Chao were often compared, both being about the same age, and their young brothers were of similar age as well, both of them only fourteen; this juxtaposition made sure that every single person in the cultivation world talk of them in the same breath. Nie Mingjue always came out the better in the comparison, and Wen Xu the same for his, which in the minds of most people balanced out, but which caused Wen Chao no end of rage. He knew he couldn’t take out his anger on the talented Wen Xu and so took out on poor Wen Ning instead.

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect.

He did not hate Wen Ning.

Wen Ning, who should not be here.

“Please,” Wen Ning said, nearly in tears, as he threw himself down to the floor in front of Nie Mingjue. He’d burst into the room in the inn Nie Mingjue was staying at, the guards that no sect leader could do without no matter what they wanted following close behind in alarm until Nie Mingjue had waved them off with a gesture; he’d been panting so hard that he’d only just now caught his breath. “Please help this useless older brother do one good thing with his life.”

Alarmed, Nie Mingjue reached out and caught Wen Ning by the shoulders, pulling him to stand and even forgetting himself enough to reach forward with a sleeve to dab away the tears staining the other man’s face.

“What is it?” he asked, feeling anxiety curdling in his gut. He’d spoken with Wen Ning before during the discussion conferences, both when he was younger and even, in a few stolen moments, after he became sect leader; he knew Wen Ning had a steady personality, if a weak one from all the bullying he endured, and that he was not given to unnecessary hysterics. If he could tolerate Wen Chao’s endless torment with a faint smile and a don’t worry sect leader Nie once you’re used to it it’s more funny than anything else, then what could make him act like this? “What is that you need help with? I do not understand.”

Wen Ning looked tired. He always had, his health had always been poor, but now it seemed worse than ever; there were circles under his eyes, and Nie Mingjue had no idea how he’d managed to get away from the Nightless City to come find him. The town he was currently in was close to the border the Qinghe Nie shared with Qishan Wen, but it was still an effort, especially for someone like Wen Ning. He might be a member of the Wen family by name, but his freedom was significantly curtailed, and it wasn’t only because he was sickly.

“My little sister is going to be attending the lectures at the Cloud Recesses,” Wen Ning said.

“The - Lan sect lectures?” Nie Mingjue repeated blankly. It was a stupid thing to say; of course it was the Lan sect’s lectures, who else would give lectures at the Cloud Recesses? And yet, at the same time – “The Wen sect hasn’t gone to them in generations.”

“Sect Leader Wen asked A-Qing to look for something,” Wen Ning said. “I don’t know what. He talks to her more than he talks to me, when she’s treating him with acupuncture and other such things – he only wants blood relations treating him now, so she’s passing along what she can do, the doctors all say she’s talented – he told her something, I think, but I don’t know what, he doesn’t talk to me…and she doesn’t talk to me, either.”

“She’s sixteen, they’re like that,” Nie Mingjue said, trying to offer comfort, but he didn’t like the sound of that – Wen Ruohan growing reliant on the medical skills of a teenager, talking with her as if she were an adult…it didn’t speak well to the Chief Cultivator’s state of mind. “So she’s going to go spy on them?”

“She is. And maybe more. There’s – there’s something back in the Nightless City, something Sect Leader Wen is refining in order to increase his power. Whatever it is, it’s powerful and evil.” Wen Ning looked paler than usual, somehow. “It was something that was kept in a cave near our village when we were younger, once. Sect Leader Wen took it away to study, and it made something go crazy, I got hurt, and my parents – anyway, it doesn’t matter. I can’t go near it without losing my senses, so I really don’t know anything about it. But I know that Sect Leader Wen only has a piece – and the Lan sect has another.”

Lan Xichen had never mentioned such a thing, but then again, he wasn’t really old enough that Nie Mingjue would expect him to know everything about his sect – he was after all a full five years younger than Nie Mingjue, three years younger than Wen Ning; he was still only seventeen, having only just graduated from his uncle’s classes the year before. He was only very technically sect leader, in the same way Nie Mingjue had only been technically sect leader after his father’s death, although unlike Lan Xichen Nie Mingjue had fought his way to step up to the task for real early on. He himself was only barely considered an adult at the age of twenty-two; it was no surprise that in the Lan sect, which had Lan Qiren to rely on, Lan Xichen might not know it all.

Or perhaps he knew, and simply didn’t say. Each sect was entitled to its secrets.

“What are you thinking?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“I’m thinking that my sister is constantly afraid for me, even though she’s younger than me,” Wen Ning said solemnly. “I’m thinking that she will break her own principles into pieces to protect me. I’m thinking that she’ll find whatever it is, or find a hint to it, and then Wen Chao will take his forces to burn the Cloud Recesses to the ground in search of it.”

Nie Mingjue could see that.

He didn’t want to, but he could.

“My brother is attending those lectures,” he said blankly. Nie Huaisang was there right now. He could be in danger – no, he would be in danger. Nie Huaisang wasn’t a good cultivator, and at fourteen, he was just a baby. Nie Mingjue had sent Meng Yao with him, nominally as his attendant, but in fact to get the benefit of the classes himself and also bully Nie Huaisang into actually learning something – he’d brought Meng Yao into the Nie sect after Jin Zixuan, full of guilt over how his father had treated a boy only two years his junior, had sent him a letter beseeching him for help following Meng Yao’s public and humiliating rejection from Jinlin Tower – but Meng Yao was only sixteen, of age with Wen Qing; what could he really do?

Moreover, sending Wen Qing and not Wen Xu, even though Wen Xu was the same age as Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji, indicated that Wen Ruohan didn’t want his more promising son to get involved in whatever it was that he was planning, or maybe in whatever consequences followed. If Wen Chao really were to try something violent, they couldn’t afford to have a weakness already there…

“I need to get A-Qing out of the Wen sect,” Wen Ning said, and Nie Mingjue turned to look at him in shock. “Permanently. I’ve begged her to go, but she won’t leave me, she won’t leave our family of the Dafan Wen, but she has to. Something bad is going to happen soon. I know it. I don’t mind trading my life for hers, but she has to live.”

“Is there any way you can go to the Cloud Recesses as well?” Nie Mingjue asked, his mind already racing. He’d long ago given up on helping Wen Ning because he knew the other man wouldn’t turn traitor against his family, being an upright and filial child, but if his family had reached such a depth of corruption as that, then it was only right to leave them behind. If Wen Ning was finally accepting that, maybe there was something he could do. “You’re sensitive to the – whatever it is. Right? Maybe Wen Qing can suggest bringing you around to help her find her way to it.”

“How would that help?”

“It gets you somewhere safe, while I can rescue Dafan Wen – without a threat to you or to them, your sister would have no reason to insist on staying,” Nie Mingjue said, though it wouldn’t be him, exactly, that did the rescue – he’d need a firm alibi lest Wen Ruohan use it as an excuse to start something with his Nie sect. He might have prepared for war as much as he could, but the Wen sect was still stronger; if war broke out, he needed to make sure that he had the moral high ground.

Luckily, Wei Wuxian, that walking calamity of a head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, had of late developed the habit of wandering over to visit various other sects, including Qinghe (and Nie Mingjue in specific), at his leisure, and no one ever would think to blame him for such a strange thing as a subsidiary sect of distant Wen sect cousins disappearing.

After all, Wei Wuxian had no reason to know or care about the Dafan Wen, and everyone knew he abjured politics completely, violently and repetitively, so as to make no mistake about anyone who might otherwise see him as competition for the Jiang sect’s true heir, Jiang Cheng. The five-year gap between their ages kept them from being compared – you couldn’t expect a child, and at fifteen Jiang Cheng was still very much a child, to keep up with an adult just turned twenty like Wei Wuxian – but there had always been whispers given everything with Cangse Sanren, and Wei Wuxian had had to work very hard to put a stop to them.

Wei Wuxian’s wandering habit had started back when he’d been trying to find Jiang Yanli a new fiancée to replace the engagement he’d broken by fighting with Jin Zixuan, however shameful it was for him to fight with a boy two years his junior. It was for that that he had come to Qinghe to meet Nie Mingjue, leading to them hitting it off as friends despite Nie Mingjue expressing that he had absolutely no interest in getting married to Jiang Yanli, or indeed to any nice young lady at all; then, in turn, Nie Mingjue had brought him to the Lan sect to meet Lan Xichen. They’d gotten along as well, although the most notable outcome of that visit had been little Lan Wangji developing a crush on his elder brother’s new friend while Wei Wuxian remained blissfully oblivious. His wanderings had continued even after Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan had found their way back to each other, affianced once again through their own choice rather than their parents’.

Said parents had not yet been informed of this new situation, as they were waiting for the right time to mention it. Or perhaps more accurately, the right situation to exploit with it…

Now, Nie Mingjue thought. Now was the time. It would work perfectly.

And not just as a distraction.

“Are you sure…?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue said. “Whatever it is, Wen Ruohan must be kept from obtaining all of the pieces; he’s already too powerful, and more power will only make him more arrogant. I’ll speak with Lan Qiren. Once I take the Dafan Wen back to the Nie sect, your sister will be able to testify to whatever it is that she was asked to search for, which will give Lan Qiren the evidence he needs to get his sect’s approval for retaliatory measures. Moreover, using Wei Wuxian to help me will force Jiang Fengmian to support me as well; there’s no way he’d ever refuse to back him to the hilt.”

“The Jin sect –”

“Will join us,” Nie Mingjue said, thinking of Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan’s yet-to-be-announced engagement. Once Jin Guangshan realized that he would be pulled into the same boat as the rest of them whether he wanted to or not, any resistance he had would crumble like a structure made of sand being beaten down by the tide. “They won’t have a choice. Is there anything else I should know?”

“There’s a child,” Wen Ning said, biting his lips. “Around the same age as your brother or my sister, or maybe the Jiang sect heir, I don’t know, around that. He helps Sect Leader Wen with whatever he’s doing.”

“A child helps him?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t like the sound of that.

“I don’t know. Some secret his family knows, I think…his surname is Xue.”

Nie Mingjue frowned.

“I don’t know much about him,” Wen Ning added. “Only that he has some history with the Yueyang Chang clan. Bad history.”

“That’s a good start,” Nie Mingjue said. He realized that he hadn’t yet released Wen Ning’s shoulders, and gave them a small squeeze before doing so. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will do everything I can to help you.”

Wen Ning looked at him with admiration in his eyes, making Nie Mingjue feel a little hot under the collar.

“Thank you, Chifeng-zun,” he murmured, and Nie Mingjue shook his head.

“Call me by name,” he said, and tried to smile. “You’ll be here a lot in the future, if all goes well.”

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect, but he didn’t hate gentle and sad Wen Ning.

He didn’t hate him at all.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #wen ning #my fic #my fics #count your age #I know you said Yunmeng focus but this is what came out #sorry #full list of ages on the ao3 page

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vrishchikawrites · 3 years

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Could I have a prompt? 🥺🥺 So WWX is taking bath in the Cold Pond to heal from the wounds by the discipline paddle (which I assume he was punished being clothed in his Black robe or in his Gusu Lan disciple robes or Head disciple Jiangs robes whichever fits). Before going to CR, wwx is whipped by mdm yu and LWJ notices wwx’s raw red scars and many scars across his back kinda overlapping and not yet being healed because maybe MDM yu sealed his core or something. LWJ, or with LXC saw WWX’s many crisscrossing scars and realize they’re still raw and kinda risking for infection because when mdm yu unseals his spiritual energy before going to CR, WWX never thought of healing it. Cue LWJ and LXC gets horrified and ask WWX why he had many scars on his back (or other parts of his body can also be included!) no pressure 💕 I love your writing! ❤️❤️

Anyway, it is set during the period in which WWX studies at CR. Lån Qiren, who is obviously not eyeing Wei Wuxian just in case the boy creates some trouble ends up realizing that he is too non chalant about not eating (because the food there is for rabbits) and WWX is like "Oh, yeah. Nah its fine, I've been worse".

This one has trigger warnings for child abuse, negligence, and issues related to eating habits. Keep that in mind before proceeding. Nothing graphic, but I wanted to warn nonetheless.

I've merged two prompts here.

Please remember that prompts are closed. Also, remember I do not write self-deprication. All prompts that require WWX to have low self-esteem are not going to be written, apologies but the subject is very uncomfortable for me and I don't believe it is canon accurate anyways.

On to the prompt fill.

"That Wei child is entirely too careless."

Lan Qiren closes his eyes and prays for patience. That boy has been a menace ever since he stepped into Cloud Recesses. Brilliant but wily and mischievous with absolutely no regard for rules.

"What has he done?" He asks gruffly, reading over the reports from the kitchen staff. Cloud Recesses always monitors the food intake of their guests to make sure everyone is well-fed and no one is consuming more than their due. It wouldn't do for young cultivators to fall ill in their care, after all.

The primary healer, a matron of some age, had brought the reports instead of the kitchen manager, which was quite unusual, "He forgets meals. Goes without food for days. Survives on small bits of fruit."

Xichen, who has been working on his own reports, raises his head and looks concerned.

Lan Qiren crosses his arms, feeling a growing sense of ire, "He dislikes our meals." He's not the first one to skip meals because he considers them 'bland' and 'boring'. It's likely the child has been sneaking down to Caiyi town to have more extravagant meals.

"I checked with our ward team. When he goes days without eating, he doesn't make any trips to Caiyi town either."

Lan Qiren pauses and studies her. Lan Mingyun nods curtly, "When I first noticed this behavior, I immediately put him on my list." Her list of children with food-related issues, he assumes, "His eating habits are very erratic, erratic enough that I wish to assign one of our senior disciples to keep an eye on him."

"You're that worried?" Lan Xichen asks in surprise while Lan Qiren frowns. It isn't unusual to do so but he wonders if it is really necessary.

"As far as I know, the child lived on the streets for quite a few years," She says and Lan Qiren narrows his eyes, inwardly reprimanding himself. He had forgotten about that aspect of Wei Wuxian's history, "The link between early childhood trauma and behavioural problems are well known to us."

Lan Xichen frowns, "I'll ask Wangji to keep an eye on him."

He glances at his nephew sharply, "Why Wangji?" He demands because surely someone else would be better.

"From what I understand, Wei-gongzi will not welcome an assigned senior. He seems to be someone who brushes injuries or illnesses off. He likes Wangji and will be more willing to accept his company."

While the argument is reasonable, Lan Qiren is loath to involve his precious nephew in this. He's already so bothered by the boy.

But.

He thinks of Wei Wuxian with his sharp eyes and lingering smile and nods.

---

Wangji listens to Xichen patiently even as his fingers curl into fists under his sleeves.

He doesn't like Wei Wuxian. The boy is too disruptive, too bold, too distracting-

Too beautiful.

He doesn't like him, but that doesn't mean he's content to ignore his well-being. When Xichen asks him to keep an eye on Wei Ying's eating habits and general behavior, Wangji agrees.

It will be taxing for him, but he agrees.

What he doesn't anticipate is… everything that follows. When he starts consciously looking for them, the signs are alarming. Wei Ying doesn't just skip meals whenever he gets too distracted, he picks at the food even when he is eating. While Wangji is comforted to know the boy frequently seeks something richly flavored at Caiyi Town, he doesn't do it often enough to compensate.

There are also some concerning behaviors in the Jiang contingent. Upon closer inspection, it is clear that while Wei Ying does break the rules, the other Jiang Sect disciples are often complicit. Including Jiang Wanyin.

They not only let their da-shixiong take the blame for all of their actions, but also encourage it. Wei Ying seems disconcertingly accustomed to it. He makes a scene while being punished but seems alright within an hour.

Jiang Wanyin encourages mischief and reprimands him in turns.

Wangji doesn't understand this.

"Xiongzhang, I am concerned," Xichen looks up from his tea, his attention immediately on Wangji, unwavering and comforting, "Wei Ying," He takes a moment to form his thoughts, "I am uncertain. I believe he is in an unsafe environment."

Xichen sets his tea aside, "How so?"

"I happened upon a conversation," He grimaces because it is eavesdropping even if his intentions are noble, "Jiang Wanyin and Nie Huaisang requested and encouraged him to get alcohol into Cloud Recesses. When he complained about the punishment, Jiang Wanyin said 'at least, it wasn't Zidian'."

His brother sucks in a sharp breath, "Zidian? Madam Yu? Spiritual weapon? A high-grade weapon typically used against enemies?"

Wangji dips his head.

"I'll ask uncle to stop assigning corporal punishments." Lan Xichen says, "They won't have the desired effect in any case and we don't want to damage him permanently. Tomorrow, ask him to practice Cultivation in the Cold Pond as punishment."

Wangji nods, "I'll assign Jiang Wanyin and Nie Huaisang proper punishment as well."

"Wait until we have a better grasp on the situation." Xichen says solemnly, "If we act too quickly, things will escalate and may cause more harm to Wei-gongzi."

Wangji is reluctant because his sense of justice is not satisfied. He remembers how the Jiang disciples encouraged Wei Ying to accept punishment on their behalf. And then to know Jiang Wanyin was also complicit…

"We must approach this cautiously, Wangji."

He nods.

---

Red, irritated, scarred.

Wangji swallows as he sees the state of Wei Ying's back as the Jiang disciple steps into the Cold Pond. There are so many whip scars on his back, so many that have barely begun to heal, that he feels nauseous.

"Wei Ying," He struggles to keep his tone neutral, "Your back." He cannot imagine the agony that Wei Ying would've suffered when he took more punishment on it the other day.

Wei Ying glances at him and grins, "Aiya, Lan Zhan, is that concern I see on your pretty face?" He asks, spinning around eagerly, "Concern for little old me?"

His back is out of sight and the way Wei Wuxian is leaning towards him is meant to distract and fluster.

Wangji… suddenly understands. Wei Ying is naturally playful and mischievous, but he uses his personality for disguise and manipulation as well. Not maliciously, but in a way that harms him.

"Wei Ying," Wangji refuses to be moved. There is a significant shift in his mind. He no longer feels annoyed by the person before him. If anything, he feels furious.

He feels protective.

"Wei Ying, your back."

The Jiang disciple shrugs, "Punishment, you know how it is."

"For what?" He demands, catching Wei Ying's elbow and turning him around. The willingness to touch him stuns Wei Ying momentarily, enough for Wangji to get a good look at the brutal devastation written on Wei Ying's back.

Wei Ying clears his throat and shrugs, "It's more of a preemptive punishment? Madam Yu knew I would cause trouble here, of course." He chuckles.

"Preemptive punishment?" He asks softly, the very notion troubling him.

Wei Ying shrugs again but doesn't attempt to explain when it is clear Wangji isn't willing to indulge him.

"Wei Ying,"

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying starts to move towards the shore, "Don't worry about things that don't concern you. Your head will forever be burdened if you do."

Wangji feels something in him recoil at such a blunt dismissal.

"Doesn't concern me? How can it not concern me?" He wants to ask but is unable to.

Wei Ying has made him very uncomfortable with his forward personality and near constant teasing, but Wangji has seen the genuine offer of friendship underneath it all.

He has always spurned it.

As Wei Ying climbs onto the shore, his wounds red against his naturally pale skin, Wangji makes a decision, "Would you not feel concerned if it were me?" He asks but he already knows the answer.

He already knows this man enough.

"Of course," Wei Ying says and shrugs on his robes, hiding a wince but unable to help his body's reaction to pain, "But you and I are different." He glances over his shoulder at Wangji, "I consider you my friend," He says, "But you don't consider me yours."

His breath stills at the acceptance in Wei Ying's tone.

"And that's alright." The Jiang disciple waves and walks away, "Don't worry too much, Lan Zhan. This one isn't weak. The wounds will heal within a few days."

---

"The facts are these - Wei-gongzi is punished preemptively with Zidian, often enough that there are deep scars on his back," Lan Xichen explains, "I assume it is his Golden Core keeping him from sustaining permanent damage."

Lan Qiren is still bristling at the very thought of preemptive punishment. What a ridiculous notion! Of course, the child doesn't care about rules and upsetting people! He has already been punished enough to excuse everything but outright treason.

How is such a method effective? How does it correct a child's misbehavior?

"The Jiang Sect disciples are accustomed to their da-shixiong being punished in their stead. They actively encourage it. Jiang Wanyin has asked Wei-gongzi to sneak in alcohol. And he refused to come forward when Wei-gongzi was punished." Xichen takes a deep breath, "I believe any lingering issues he may have because of his early days as a street orphan-"

"Are ignored," Lan Qiren concludes grimly, "It is no wonder the child has such strong cultivation. He is facing strife constantly."

"Is there a way to rescue him?" Wangji asks after being grimly silent for the entire meeting, "Get him away from the Jiang Sect?"

Lan Qiren eyes him, "Wangji, the situation is complicated. He's still the Jiang Head Disciple and sects don't just part with their high ranking disciples."

Xichen smiles sympathetically, "We'll find a way to pressure Jiang-zongzhu into taking action. He'll lose face if the other Sects know how his lady is treating their Head Disciple." He shakes his head at Wangji's expression, "Let us think about it. Meanwhile, you just need to be there for your friend, Wangji."

Lan Qiren arches a brow, "Friend? Wangji, I thought you disliked the boy."

Wangji purses his lips, a stubborn light entering his eyes, "Wei Ying is my friend." He insists, resolve lining his every word.

He looks at Xichen, who just looked amused, "According to Wei-gongzi, he considers Wangji a friend and will be very concerned if Wangji was in a similar situation," He huffs, "But Wangji doesn't consider Wei-gongzi his friend, so there's no need for Wangji to worry."

Lan Qiren closes his eyes and rubs his forehead in an uncharacteristic display of frustration, "That boy is a singular menace."

---

Wangji pursues friendship with all the dedication in his being. He learns to cook savory dishes and gives them to Wei Ying every day. Wei Ying, unable and utterly unwilling to deny, eats it all.

He glares the Jiang disciples into submission whenever they attempt to draw Wei Ying into mischief. The Jiang Head Disciple is fully exempt from corporal punishment. Instead, he spends hours in the library either copying rules, rewriting classics, or transcribing Buddhist texts.

All of these activities prove to be much more effective punishments.

Meanwhile, Lan Qiren attends a Discussion Conference and has word with Jiang Fengmian.

The response is a gentle order from the Jiang-zongzhu for Wei Ying. He asks his disciple to remain in Cloud Recesses for Musical Cultivation training. He also mentions it is time for Jiang Wanyin to take up Head Disciple responsibilities and learn true leadership.

Wei Ying eyes the smiling Lan Xichen and impassive Lan Qiren sharply but doesn't say anything.

In two years time, the distance between Wei Ying and the Jiang Sect grows. The distance between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan ceases to exist.

Just like that, Wei Wuxian's destiny changes.

#short prompts #wei wuxian #lan wangji #anti jiang sect #anti madam yu #anti jiang wanyin

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besanii · 3 years

Note

love the paper thin verse!! the angst is delicious. would love to see more XiXian, maybe a moment where lxc realizes he might have caught feelings?

[ following this ]

There is no pomp, no circumstance, no ceremony nor celebration. All anyone knows is that one day Wei Wuxian is held in guarded custody at the Imperial palace, and the next he is leaving the Emperor's chambers a consort clad in Gusu blue, with Imperial jewels in his hair.

Scandalous, some murmur. Seducing the Emperor so brazenly.

Betrayal, say others. To trample over Hanguang-wang's affection so soon after his death.

Only Lan Xichen knows how bitterly Wei Wuxian had wept when the news had arrived, how his legs had given out from beneath him and he had crumpled to the floor like a puppet without its strings. How he had curled in on himself with a broken cry before lashing out at anyone who dared to approach; how he had to be restrained, bound and gagged like an animal to his bed so he could not injure himself or others in his grief.

It was partly pity, perhaps, and guilt that moved Lan Xichen to make the offer. Lan Wangji is—was—his brother, his most loyal and steadfast subject amongst the treachery of the court, who had died without hesitation to protect the Empire and Lan Xichen. And Wei Wuxian was the only person Lan Wangji had loved as much as the Empire. It would only be right for Lan Xichen to honour his brother’s sacrifice by saving the one he loved.

"Let me help you," he'd said.

Wei Wuxian had looked at him through lifeless eyes.

"Why?"

"For Wangji, if nothing else," he'd answered honestly, and sees something flicker across his face. "Wangji would want you to be safe."

After a long moment, Wei Wuxian had nodded and Lan Xichen drew up the decree almost immediately, conferring upon him the title of xuanyi. Propagator of Deportment. Wei Wuxian had snorted at the irony when he first heard it.

"It is a little on the nose, perhaps," Lan Xichen had admitted.

Wei Wuxian had shaken his head and offered him a wavering, watery smile as he bends his knees for the first time.

"Your concubine thanks Huangshang for his generosity."

He isn't too sure what he had expected of Wei Wuxian as a consort. What he had known about him as a person stemmed almost entirely from a handful of short conversations and watching him with Lan Wangji—as such, he had half-expected to be kept busy with constant chatter and attempts at flouting the constrictive etiquette of the inner palace.

But the Wei Wuxian he gets, the Wei Wuxian after Lan Wangji's death—Wei Wuxian the consort—is a model of propriety. He smiles politely and offers pleasant, unoffending conversation, presenting to the world every bit of the good breeding that has been instilled in him since birth. He charms the other consorts into friendships and earns the respect of his servants almost immediately with his good humour and generous hand. Even Lan Qiren, the notoriously strict and conservative Imperial Tutor, cannot find fault in his behaviour.

But there are brief moments when the smiles slip just a fraction and his eyes grow unfocused; a tremble appears in the corner of his mouth and in his long fingers. In those moments, brief as they are, Lan Xichen thinks he can see the depth of his grief, and something twinges deep inside his chest—in pity, perhaps, or sympathy. Guilt.

So he does his best to make him happy: he gifts him an antique flute, carved of the finest jade by the greatest artisan over three hundred years ago, and allows him to play with the court musicians; he brings him books and tools and paper, and offers him unlimited access to the Imperial libraries. He is aware these are poor substitutes for what he could have had, that he can never give Wei Wuxian what he truly desires. But Wei Wuxian brightens a little with each gift, each new little sliver of freedom, and it eases the ache in Lan Xichen's heart.

It is only right, he tells himself. I am only doing right by Wangji by taking care of him.

“Huangshang, may your concubine speak bluntly?” his Empress murmurs one night as she pours him tea. He picks up the teacup.

"Qiongyue, you are my wife,” he reminds her with a smile. “When we are alone, you may forgo the formalities and speak your mind.”

Nie Qiongyue inclines her head.

“Then, Fujun, Qiongyue will speak freely.” She folds her hands together and sets them on the table in front of her. “Is Fujun truly doing this for Wangji’s sake, or because you want Wei Wuxian to be happy—with you?”

“Huangshang,” Eunuch Wang murmurs from his place at Lan Xichen’s elbow. “Will we be joining Wei-xuanyi and Hanguang-wang in the pavilion?”

He watches from afar as Lan Wangji approaches the pavilion, sees the outline of Wei Wuxian’s profile as he turns and makes his way to the stairs. From this distance, he cannot hear what they are saying, or even make out their faces with much clarity, but he already has a fairly good idea.

His fingers brush against the pendant hanging from his belt. The wood is smooth and polished, carved into the shape of a dragon amidst the flowing cloud insignia of the Imperial family.

A gift, Huangshang. A token of your concubine’s devotion.

Up ahead, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have moved further into the pavilion and appear to be deep in conversation; they stand several feet apart with Wei Wuxian’s retinue around them. To any other person, they would appear as little more than cordial acquaintances.

Lan Xichen exhales through his nose; he tells himself it is not out of relief.

“No,” he decides. “We will return to the Imperial study.”

Eunuch Wang and the rest of his retinue bow.

“Yes, Huangshang.”

Translations

Fujun (夫君) - old-fashioned/archaic form of “husband”

buy me a ko-fi!

more paper-thin fic | verse

Notes

Nie Qiongyue is the OC I used in shattered mirrors for LXC’s Empress, because why create a new one OC when I have a perfectly good one to use right there?

(hey, imagine if this was like...an AU of SM if WWX had not left for Yunmeng and the war was actually with Dongying and not Qishan. food for thought.)

Anyway, I said I didn’t know where I’m going with this but here you go anyway ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I’m thinking we just keep this to feelings and angst and leave out the plotty stuff this time lol...I’m saving my plot juices to finish off SM for now.

#my writing #mdzs #wangxian #xixian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan xichen #paper thin fic #薄命 #王爺機 x 妃子羡 #皇帝曦 x 妃子羡 #consort!wwx #emperor!lxc #duke!lwj #lan wangji x wei wuxian #lan xichen x wei wuxian #🔪🔪#harem au #imperial au

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vermillioncrown · 3 years

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the idea of completing the body swap circle by giving z!mxy wwx’s body is so funny. imagine everyone that knew wwx pre-death having mental whiplash and having to recalibrate because that shady expression/dead fish stare does not belong there??? where is the trademarked cheeky smile??? (jwy is really gonna go through it…maybe lqr too because he CANNOT with the associated memories)

Bonus: they don’t tell anyone that it’s zyx in wwx body so everyone assumes that everyone is in their proper bodies. wwx tries to convince zyx to pretend to be him just to mess with people

yes

yesss

exactly what i'm going for there

first off, gotta stop everyone from coming after z!mxy's life (again) (he didn't ask for this, he was sleeping and ready to fade away and now wwx and lwj stuck him here and ... ooo . he's taller. this is nice. weather's great)

any body that z!mxy comes back in will be cursed to the extreme, let alone in wwx's original body. lqr was about to bring the entirety of gusu lan's exorcism prowess upon z!mxy, if not for that uncanny serious expression and genuinely, sincerely thankful bow "elder, thank you for giving this undeserving mo xuanyu shelter. this one will not trouble you any longer" he's not going to stay if unwelcome.

and then seeing the 🥺 face from wwx in mxy's body (lqr: there's two of them i can't think straight) and the 🥺 emotion from his nephew's soul, lqr resolves to just... never look in the direction of wwx's body.

"... get him in here. we're closing the wards for the night." damn it all.

bc z!mxy has more emotional competency than a toddler (sometimes he disproves himself okay but generally higher eq than the other two), he does not put himself in the way of jiang-zongzhu if he doesn't have to. bc if he ever shows himself, it's either letting jc think that z!mxy is a bodysnatcher (which will piss jc off) or letting him know that wwx defied the natural order... again. for someone else (which will also piss him off)

he's not getting within a li of jc until wwx talks to him. and then lwj also talks to him. and then z!mxy might feel comfortable walking in yunmeng territory.

bonus:

it will work. wwx can't play z!mxy convincingly, but z!mxy can play wwx.

comes w the hobbies/experiences from previous life (theater. dance. playing pranks. cosplaying. being professional. to name a few) and then a second life pretending to be someone else.

... i don't think there are many people left that know both wwx and z!mxy to trick. perhaps the first night, both of them can't stay conscious and lwj fears the ritual didn't stick. it's highly plausible they switched back to their original bodies, yeah?

lwj isn't completely fooled, but there's a slight sense of unease when z!mxy in wwx's body latches onto him. he's saying the right words, earnestly leaning into him, eyes so full of feeling and depth of connection, it must be wei ying -

and then wwx in mxy's body tries acting polite and the whole game is up.

the best part of the prank is when z!mxy in wwx's body drops the ruse. the immediate transition from (￣y▽￣)╭ -> (ㆆ_ㆆ) is like watching a serial killer.

oh, they can try to trick lxc (w z!mxy's cooperation, the main story won't devastate lxc to such an extreme). that's probably the only person they can trick to some degree. if and only if lwj isn't present for lxc to read.

oh, jin ling would be fun to trick. it's not about knowing how wwx was like in his first life - but if wwx can play z!mxy well enough. ("i have so many fucked up uncles...")

z!mxy trying to go through his day, letting wwx mimic him (z!mxy thinks it's a waste of effort)

"there's nothing distinct to rely on - i'm too boring for that," z!mxy explains

"subtle." wwx trying to pour tea for the nth time, almost with the same posture "the pattern is subtle."

"you can't even do the expression right."

"isn't it just being relaxed?"

"senior i am far from relaxed at any given moment."

#inquiry #Anonymous #zyx au's #mdzyx #z!mo xuanyu #if not the wwx complete body swap #i pictured them growing z!mxy a body that has to keep developing #as in they get to have a chibi z!mxy for a few days for fun and profit #lqr's like 'i can't kick him out - he's a child giving me those child eyes'#a few days later 'i should have kicked him out before he turned into an evil looking adult!'

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agendratum · 3 years

Text

ok so

as usual after finishing an arc of mdzs my head is full, many thoughts. so let’s talk about the guanyin temple confrontation.

first thing that i kept paying attention to were actually the changes made in order to turn it into live-action. so in cql they had to make the gray-gray characters, the “there are no good or bad guys, just people and their circumstances” characters (unless you’re jgs, than yeah you’re a bad guy and everyone agrees on that actually) into slightly more black and white characters. by the end of cql we are lured into this fake sense of security, “haha, we know who the bad guy is!” (then a year passes and here you are, now a jgy apologist), by the end of mdzs, you just know that, well, decisions were made, unfortunate decisions, by many different people.

cql had to make wwx into a bit nicer version of himself. the good protagonist couldn’t lose control and accidentally kill a bunch of people, and then kill another bunch of people fully willingly, cause his sister just died and that was the last connection he had to the idea that something still matters in this world. no, out protagonist should be... like a little bit nicer than that. so they lifted some of that responsibility for atrocities off him, but they couldn’t just evaporate it, could they? they had to put it somewhere. they put it on jgy. after all he’s the big bad in the end of the story, well, the only surviving person from all people that could be considered big bads, he’s the one that “did every terrible deed imaginable”. he could take that responsibility, they had to make his grayness into a slightly darker shade anyway.

i am actually kinda surprised by how different my reaction to jgy was in mdzs. obviously, there is a year difference between me watching cql and me reading this part of mdzs, and over that year i changed my opinion on jgy 5 thousand times and joined the camp “actually meng yao deserves all the best things in the world”, but anyway. when i was watching cql i was like, oh my god, can someone just kill him already, before he does something bad again, before more bullcrap comes out of his mouth, and also stop yelling at this kid about all the “valid” reasons to why you killed his dad. in mdzs my reaction to jgy’s confessions was like, “huh. he has a point”.

now don’t get me wrong there, some shitty things were done, but the thing is, the things he did really made sense from his point of view, from this position and life experience he really had no other way to go. i especially was convinced by his reasoning to why he couldn’t cancel his engagement with qin su. not only he would suffer from this story, because he already went through so much to make this marriage possible, but also qin su’s parents and herself would most likely suffer, their public image would be destroyed, only jgs wouldn’t lose anything. and you could feel the hatred and bitterness he felt towards his father talking about this, and everyone in the temple could agree with that, because he “just forgot he made another child”, he didn’t even notice.

another interesting detail for me was lxc saying, “it’s not that i didn’t know that you did some of these things, it’s that i thought you had a good reason for doing them”. so yeah, a reminder, lxc isn’t blind and he isn’t an idiot. he trusted a person he thought he knew better than anyone else, and he believed in this person. the problem, i think, is that “a good reason” is different for lxc and for jgy. lxc would understand a righteous reason, doing something for the greater good. working for wen ruohan? that was explainable. they all were fighting in a war, fighting for the better, brighter future, and meng yao’s contribution to that future was immeasurable. what if he killed some people there? he had a good reason in lxc’s eyes. but meng yao had other good reasons in his life, some of these reasons lxc never had to deal with in his life. survival, for example, is one of them. meng yao’s early years were very different from lxc’s. not to say that lxc’s life was easy, but it was never truly unstable. meng yao had to learn how to survive in a world where no one wanted him. he lived with one dream, promised to him by his mother, a future where he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, where he wouldn’t have to smile at people he hated, please every one of their desires so they wouldn’t harm him. and then he entered this life promised to him and he still had to survive, but now in a luxurious man-eats-man world of lanling jin.

meng yao’s life really was this unstoppable ball of snow rolling down the mountain, and every decision he made just made the ball bigger and it would just roll faster. there is even a moment where jgy accuses lxc of being naive. lxc isn’t really naive, of course, it was said in the heat of the moment, but it is a fact that lxc was never kicked down a staircase, never had to crawl back up, and the thing is, at the bottom of the staircase, there are other good reasons to do things.

and in a way lxc understood that jgy in his position really didn’t have any other choices, he just couldn’t find peace in this mindset. he kept repeated through that part, “and yet, and yet, you shouldn’t have done that, you should have...” and he never said what exactly jgy should have done. because lxc doesn’t know. jgy doesn’t know. no one knows. what choices were better? how could he fix all that and still survive? in a way, lxc saying that reminded me of wangxian farewell in the burial mounds. when lwj asks, “you really indent to keep going like this?” and wwx, who wished, who longed for another solution, for some way out, asked him, “what else can i do? what method can i choose to resolve this, not use this technique and still protect people i want to protect?” and lwj didn’t have an answer. lxc didn’t have an answer either.

another amazing thing about guanyin temple confrontation, is that it’s very heavily wwx’s pov. most on the novel is his pov of course, but there were a loot of his thoughts in this arc. and he was rather understanding towards jgy. not in a way “i agree with every reasoning behind every decision you made” but in a way “i understand that you had your reasons, but all of them will become irrelevant really soon, they already are, because the crowd will only remember you as a son of a whore who did every terrible deed imaginable, and all the good deeds will be forgotten”

now his thoughts on nhs, or who he suspected nhs to be, were way less nice. especially compared to live action, nhs didn’t make such an impression on me as he made through wwx’s thought process in the end of guanyin temple arc. of course, wwx is no sect leader yao, he is not the one to jump to conclusions, he just noticed that if you put some facts together, they actually start making a lot of sense, and formed a full picture. but he didn’t have any proof, so he kept it mostly to himself. yet he still thought for a moment about nhs as someone who didn’t care about collateral damage that much, who was ready to sacrifice lives of juniors, sect leaders, anyone, if it would add to jgy’s kill count and make his fall and destruction even more disastrous. not that those are not the things that happened in live action, but you know, when wwx put it all together like that in one paragraph, i really felt it. like, oof, dude it’s ROUGH. and not even jgy’s death was enough, as nhs basically admitted to stealing meng shi’s body and planning to repay jgy for what he did to nmj’s body. yikes

i mean i still support nhs in everything he does, but yikes

also side note, glad that the dead cats situation finally became clear for me. this whole year i was so confused about who left all these dead cats for juniors to find. i thought maybe xue yang did?? to lure wwx?? so apparently it was also nhs. good to know.

another detail, probably the last one my brain can generate for now, that pained me a great deal was my poor child jin ling. i already cried about some things related to him and this arc, but there was another little one in the very end here, after jgy died. jin ling realised, that there were now three people, wwx, wn and jgy, his little uncle, that were responsible for his parents’ death. people he had every right and reason to hate. all three of them. and yet he couldn’t hate any of them. he couldn’t avenge his parents, that died so long ago he couldn’t remember them, because all three people responsible for what happened, had something, some reasons, some circumstances, that made them really not the bad guys in jin ling’s life. and they all cared about him, protected him. how could he hate them? how could he not? and in this way this poor child repeats, unfortunately, his uncle’s curse. to have someone he wants to hate so much but just simply can’t. it warms my heart at least that jin ling has a much better support system than jc had when he had to live through that experience. so there is hope.

#not rereading this #ok that's a lit i'll for sure reread this later #lie*#yana reads mdzs #and writes long long long metas #meta #the untamed

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ibijau · 3 years

Note

I’ve sent you an ask like this before but like. reverse au where nhs’ goal is wrh instead of jgy - imagining little nhs with his father’s blood on his saber unable to stop bawling but insisting that he has to go on trial for the murder of his father - being furious when he’s not pronounced guilty because it has to be someone’s fault - little nmj crying sympathy tears and trying to guard huaisang against whatever’s making him cry -

lxc only starts to let go of his jealousy of how frivolous sect leader nhs is allowed to be when wrh attacks nhs in the middle of a cultivation conference and is bravely defeated by now-jgy and lxc sees nhs first realize through his tears that wrh may have been the one to kill his father - he lets go of it entirely as he begins to suspect the decimation of the main branch of the wen clan took a lot more hard work than chance

oops, I went for something centered around the Nie brothers with this orz

It was just the three of them in that room when it happened, and though Mingjue is quite young, he is brought to testify at that trial his da-ge insists on having. When the elders ask, he explains that he had closed his eyes and didn't see much. He doesn’t tell them that his da-ge had just ordered him to close them. If it’s relevant, his da-ge will say something.

But Huaisang stays silent, except for some quiet sobbing.

“You didn’t see, but you heard,” one elder insists. “So what did you hear?”

“A-die was angry,” Mingjue replies, eyes darting toward his brother. “He was shouting at us.” He hesitates. “It’s words da-ge says I’m not allowed to know and if I use them around grown-ups I’ll be in trouble.”

The elders smile weakly at this well-behaved boy of seven.

“Just for today, you can say it. We need to understand, er-gongzi.”

Mingjue glances again at his brother. He only speaks again when his da-ge nods at him through his tears.

“A-die said that I was just the son of a whore and he was tired of me scheming against da-ge,” Mingjue recites, the accusation branded onto his mind. He can still hear the exact tone of his father’s voice, feel the power of his unrestrained aura oppressing him to the point he nearly fainted. “A-die also said that da-ge was a disgrace anyway and he was going to get rid of both of us and have real sons, instead of a Wen and a bastard. Then I heard blades hitting, and A-die shouted a-die couldn't hurt me, and there was a fight, and then everything was very quiet and da-ge said I needed to go get help.”

The elders nod solemnly. Huaisang sobs harder, his face awash with tears. He presses both hands against his mouth in an effort to keep quiet, so he won’t disturb the trial too much, but it’s not very efficient. Their cousin Zonghui, standing next to him, pats Huaisang’s shoulder to try to calm him.

“What did you see, before you left the room?” one elder asks.

Mingjue doesn’t answer right away. It’s fine to take time to remember, they told him early on, so he does that. In truth though, it’s not like he could ever forget the sight of his brother, usually so soft and funny, standing over the still twitching corpse of their father. He hasn’t forgotten that their father was breathing and even moaning when he left. He recalls, also, how different his da-ge had looked with his bloody sabre in hand, that hard look on his face.

When Mingjue had returned with help, his father had stopped breathing, and there was no hardness left to Huaisang who had dropped his sabre and was sobbing in a corner.

“There was a lot of blood,” Mingjue says, which isn’t a lie.

His eyes catch Huaisang’s. His da-ge, who doesn’t let anyone insult him for his mother, who told Mingjue many nice stories about her, since he never got to meet her. His da-ge who encourages him even when others say that the son of a servant shouldn’t be given the education of a young master, shouldn't dare to be better than children of higher birth. His da-ge, lazy and spoiled, but always putting in the effort when he feels Mingjue needs protecting.

It’s Mingjue’s turn to protect him now.

“I onlyremember the blood, and that I was scared,” he claims.

This time, it’s a lie.

But he can’t let them hurt his da-ge.

At the issue of that trial, it is decided that Huaisang acted out of self defence, and cannot be too harshly punished for the murder of his father. He has to offer sacrifices to the heavens and make public penance, but there won’t be lasting consequences, and he still gets to be sect leader.

Uncle Wen would not allow for anything else, Mingjue hears some of the elders whisper.

Uncle Wen went through a lot of trouble to make sure Qinghe Nie stopped bothering him, they also say. And now his sister’s child is ruling the only sect that used to stand up to him.

Huaisang laughs when Mingjue repeats this to him one night, while his da-ge puts him to bed for the night. Everything else has changed, but not this: Huaisang makes the time to take care of his didi, and Mingjue worries for his da-ge. Making time is harder than it used to be, the worries have become bigger than before, but fundamentally it’s still the same.

“Don’t listen to what those old farts say,” Huaisang advises as he tucks Mingjue under his blanket. “And don’t let them catch you listening, either. They’ll think you’re going to repeat things to me.”

“I do repeat things to you,” Mingjue points out. “And they shouldn’t be saying things like that. It’s not right to speak about people behind their back. A-die said people should speak their grievance in the light, or not at all.”

Huaisang smiles, and pets his hair.

“A-die was a good man,” he says. “Don’t let anyone make you forget that. A-die was the best man in the world. The way he was at the end, that wasn’t him. He was kind, and he loved you, and he was the best man any of us will ever meet… but this isn’t a world for good men.”

Mingjue frowns. His da-ge has always said odd things, but it has gotten worse lately.

“Da-ge is good too,” he mutters, unable to express the worry starting to form in his chest.

What he means is this: if good men are struck down by a cruel world, then his da-ge, who is good, might be at risk of dying. The thought terrifies him, and he would do anything to keep his da-ge alive. He lied for him at the trial, and he can do it again.

Huaisang laughs again.

“Don’t you worry about me!” he snickers, ruffling his brother’s hair. “I’m not good at all. Haven’t you heard people complain how little good I am?”

“You’re lazy not good, not bad not good,” Mingjue corrects. "Not like uncle."

Da-ge's good humour is shattered, replaced by a severe frown which makes him look too much like he did, that night their father died. Mingjue doesn't like it.

"MingMing, you remember the rule about uncle, right?"

"I don't say anything bad about uncle where others can hear," Mingjue meekly recites. "Only da-ge can say if it's safe to talk about uncle. Sorry. I know you didn't say."

"It's fine this time, but be more careful. Uncle is dangerous. He killed a-die, he'll kill us too if he realises we're not on his side. And we're not. Whose side are we on?"

"Each other," Mingjue dutifully replies.

He knows it's the right answer, but only if they're alone. If there are sect elders, Mingjue must claim loyalty to the sect. If they are in front of Wen Ruohan, he must say family. But the truest of truth is that he'd do anything for his da-ge, and da-ge has proven more than once he'd do anything for Mingjue.

"You're a good boy," da-ge said, ruffling his hair once more. "Don't think too much about these things. Da-ge will take care of all the problems for you."

"But I can help!"

"Yes you can," Huaisang agreed, pinching his cheek. "You can help by doing as you're told. Can you do that?"

Past events prove that Mingjue, on the whole, isn't good at doing what he's told, not when he thinks he's told to do something stupid. Sometimes, he makes a big argument about that. He's young, not stupid, and he doesn't want to do things just because grown-ups have ideas about how things should be.

But da-ge looks really tired tonight, and Mingjue doesn't want to become yet another problem on his brother's mind. So he nods dutifully.

It makes da-ge smile, so it was probably okay to lie.

#nie huaisang #nie mingjue #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #might continue it later but also might not #It's just that you know...#reversed nie bros my beloved #and also I'm trying to make a small dent in my prompts lol

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perkynurples · 4 years

Note

... May I ask you about the slow excruciating progression from Meng Yao to Jiggy?

also paging @holdmycaffeine and @cadencekismet, who asked me for the very same, and @acutebird-fics, who is my partner in crime deep philosophical discussions about these characters, and a great deal of this messy essay is informed by those

Tl;dr: JGY is a multifaceted character and the author struggles not to lose her mind trying to find the right words to describe that. Literally every single point of this rant is up for discussion, begging for it even, so please don’t hesitate to engage me, but, like... tomorrow, maybe. After I sleep it off.

Meta I used or referenced: THIS ONE explaining how JGS deciding to give him the name GuangYao is all kinds of wrong | THIS ONE talking about the red bindi-like Jin forehead dots, among other things | THIS ONE about his capacity for evil and his own recognition thereof

Alright, without any fancy preamble, here goes. Honestly, whenever I think about JGY for more than three seconds, it becomes painfully evident that there are two wolves inside me at all times - one wants to spend tens of thousands of words exploring his narrative, his choices, his abilities and his failings, his capacity for violence as well as his capacity for love...

And the other one just likes to call him a gremlin in chief in a fancy hat, and doesn’t want to go much further than that. I’m going to try and feed them both.

The thing that pisses me off about Meng Yao is just. The fact that he doesn’t stay Meng Yao, and we get to watch it happen in slow motion. You get a tiny little twink-ass kid who suddenly finds himself adopted into the Nie by the Sect Leader himself, and this is Meng Yao, the son of one of Jin Guangshan’s many mistresses, who doesn’t have a whole lot going for him aside from that, at that moment - his cultivation, weak. His opportunities, nonexistent. His dick, small. His political savvy, only just starting to show itself.

And this guy gets the chance of a lifetime presented to him on a Qinghe-silver platter. Like, we can argue about book canon and try and decide if he did anything at all to make NMJ notice him, but show canon makes it all the more hilarious (again, please refer to this gem of a post for a level of humor I’m sorely incapable of) - you’re seventeen, and the Batman of the cultivation world picks you up and elevates your status across swathes of societal norms, to a level you previously could have only dreamed of.

It’s interesting to me to try and imagine if this was the moment that Meant Something - in the grand scope of things, of course it did, because it started MY on the road to JGY, but also to Meng Yao personally, in terms of what he believed he could comfortably achieve. I do not for a second believe he started out wanting to murder people to reach his goal, or that he even had a good goal to begin with - being accepted by his father, maybe. Murdering the (at the time) greatest villain in the world, becoming a renowned spy, landing an incredibly beneficial sworn brotherhood, et cetera et cetera? I mean, the kid has wet dreams, but no way do they reach this far at this point in his life.

But so many things about him are unclear. Show canon changes his timeline, in that he met NMJ before he met Lan Xichen, and even accompanied NHS to the Cloud Recesses. Either way, his stint with the Nie is incredibly personally important to him. I firmly believe he loved and admired them, in his own way. He certainly flourished under NMJ’s tutelage and approval, but in the end, his motivations, his entire raison d’etre, clashed with NMJ’s too much. To Meng Yao, who’d gotten kicked down those infamous Koi Tower stairs for daring to ask for his father’s attention, murdering a guy for slandering him and his mother was a natural outcome of being slandered his entire life, and finally having had enough - to NMJ, it was unforgivable.

But this still isn’t where Meng Yao becomes Jin Guangyao, and it begs the goddamn question - how much of what JGY was perfectly willing and capable of doing to stay in power, had been present in Meng Yao that entire time? You see him make excuses that someone who isn’t NMJ, with his incredibly staunch morals and black-and-white view of the world, might have even accepted, but instinctively, you know - making excuses is just how it’s going to be with this guy.

Because Meng Yao, as well as Jin Guangyao, lies, and he is damn good at it. He is so good at it, that he lies his way to the very top of the Wen, all the way to Wen Ruohan’s side. His lying is what enables him to become Jin Guangyao. And like any good liar, he doesn’t only lie to the people around him - he also lies to himself.

And I can’t blame him, because - been there. Lying to yourself becomes absolutely necessary, when you want to keep everyone else around you believing in a mask you wear. You need to start believing it, at least a little bit, at least sometimes, for it to work.

At this point, you’re probably wondering - but Annie, what about the time he spent a year sheltering Lan Xichen? Did he lie then? Was he not just Meng Yao, a poor but cunning bookkeeper, then? I’m getting there, I swear. Slowly and in a roundabout sort of way, because honestly, I don’t know how I can start talking about the LXC of it all, without it turning into a novel.

Because whichever way you twist it, whatever canon you choose to follow, one constant remains - A-Yao’s feelings for Lan Xichen. I’m deliberately not calling him Meng Yao or Jin Guangyao, because it’s these feelings that divide the two, but also ultimately unify them, fatally so. But we’ll get there.

In one version of events, Meng Yao travels to Cloud Recesses at the behest of NMJ, and falls in love with a statue made of jade there. In another version of events, they meet during something LXC only describes as ‘the shame of a lifetime’. Both of those events lead to Meng Yao sheltering LXC, hiding him, saving his life and those precious Gusu Lan texts.

Whatever version of events you choose to see as the right one, one other truth also remains - Lan Xichen offers freely and without asking that which Meng Yao has had to struggle to attain, that which has been denied to him time and time again, based only on the circumstances of his birth: respect. Lan Xichen never looks down on him, never brings up his origins, and instead extends him respect and dignity in a way only he is capable of - no fucking wonder Meng Yao admires him. No fucking wonder, when this amazing guy, this perfect pristine handsome number one young cultivator, looks at him, smiles at him, and actually sees him, son of a whore or not.

No fucking wonder Meng Yao loves him, and Jin Guangyao continues loving him. No fucking wonder he never means to hurt him, but does so anyway.

But here’s the thing - lying to yourself to make things work only gets you so far. Do I think Meng Yao spends restless nights in cold sweat dreading who he’s becoming, thinking about all the lives he’s taken to further his goals? Absolutely not. Do I think he does good things, often even great things, because it helps him feel better about himself? Do I think he both loves Xichen and keeps him around because it’s beneficial to him, having the Lan Sect Leader in his pocket, but also personally speaking, having someone who so firmly believes in the goodness in him? You bet your overly adorned murderhat I do.

And frankly, reducing Jin Guangyao to one or the other - coldblooded murderer or a man plagued by his own insecurities, helpless and trying to be kind in a world that’s so evidently against him - is doing a character like him a huge disservice. You have to consider all sides, if you want to truly understand him. Hell, I myself am by no means claiming to truly understand him! He pisses me off daily, and I’m writing this stream-consciousness-y thing because he simply won’t shut up in my head.

This kid makes Choices, and here’s the catch - he doesn’t regret a whole lot of them. If anything, I’d like to think he regrets going along with his father’s plans for so fucking long before finally realizing that avenue won’t bring him what he seeks. Killing Jin Guangshan, by the way? Very sexy of him, that I’ll admit. Guy was a pig.

But even the obviously Good Choices he makes? Building those damn watchtowers? Letting Mo Xuanyu stay at Koi Tower? Seating Qin Su by his side at that same throne where his shitty father entertained concubine after concubine? (Frankly, please make up your own mind as to whether he was lying or telling the truth about learning about Qin Su being his sister before or after they’d consummated their marriage, I’m choosing to believe that he hadn’t known.)

How much of it really happens out of the goodness of his own heart, and how much of it happens because he wants to improve his own reputation, kintsugi away the minuscule cracks in his own image until he’s once again a perfect picture of Jin gold? Is he himself even capable of telling the difference, recognizing where his good intentions end and his desire to look out for number one begins? When you spend so much time crafting your own perfect mask, in your own head as well as others’, the lines blur real fast.

I think ultimately, he craves respect as much as he does pity, and those two never mesh well - the cultivation world never truly accepts him, his father certainly never truly accepts him, but Jin Guangyao is not Wei Wuxian, he can’t just look at all of these perceived injustices and slights, all of this gossip and slander, and say ‘Whatever’. No, Meng Yao takes one look at the world standing against him so very vehemently, and decides to fight it, fight tooth and nail for his place in it, until he comes out Jin Guangyao on the other side, gilded and pristine, ascending the stairs of Jinlintai to exact his revenge on anyone who dares not accept him.

The Guanyin Temple, in a way, is a perfect little vignette of his character - we observe him wildly oscillating between seeking out the aforementioned respect and pity, confessing boldly and laughing loudly one second, and pleading on his knees and clutching onto Lan Xichen’s robe the next. To him, that night, and everything leading up to it, is a series of footholds - the ground begins crumbling under his feet when he learns of the letter, and he has to act fast.

He buys himself time, excuse after excuse, thinking on his feet, and here’s the thing - he’s not necessarily the best at that. Anymore. Up until that point, until the letter and Qin Su and WWX turning up, everything is going according to plan, and his plan at this point is, frankly, correct me if I’m wrong, sitting pretty at the top of his golden tower and making sure the truth about him never comes to light, which... Well, we all know the truth has a nasty way of coming around when it’s least convenient for you.

And I think Jin Guangyao (not Meng Yao) is, at that point, unused to being inconvenienced. Everything he ever does, he calculates, he twists the public opinion of himself, he twists individual people’s opinions of himself, to suit him - nothing unexpected ever happens anymore, because he’s played the game long enough to foresee most things. Nie Huaisang beats him at that same game, not because he has a huge plan spanning decades of his own, but because he’s good at improvising, kicking the hornet’s nest and then knowing where to direct the fallout - but that is another essay all of its own waiting to happen.

For now, I feel like I need to wrap this up before I lose my mind. Personally (and please feel free to challenge me on this any time), I don’t feel like there’s a single defining moment, or even a handful of them, traumatic or otherwise, that irrevocably turns Meng Yao into Jin Guangyao. Sure, being kicked down the literal stairs leading to a better place for you a handful of times will have you feeling some kind of way. Sure, serving a maniacal warlord while playing an impossibly high-stakes game of spy poker will leave a mark or two. Sure, your sworn brother spitting in your face the very insults you’ve been hearing your whole life and never learned to shake off, will make one more vestige of patience inside you irrevocably crumble to smithereens. But.

Your whole life, you work very, very hard. You know to put your head down and get your hands dirty, but you also know that sometimes, the best way out of a hairy situation is turning on those puppy eyes and appearing just a smidgen weaker, a smidgen more frightened and helpless, than you actually are. And if, when you actually tell the truth and people still don’t believe you, lying becomes easier, becomes, eventually, so easy it feels as natural as breathing? Well. Might as well use that particular skillset to sneak your way through a war, am I right? Might as well use it to build yourself a nest among the very vultures who resent you, and whom you resent, and make sure that they have to respect you.

In the end, to me? Jin Guangyao is the guy who jumps from person to person, from callout to very personal callout, there in the Guanyin Temple, just to stall for time, just to regain some sort of foothold in the situation - he’s the guy who probably views losing an arm as a necessary sacrifice, shakes it off and still gets to work from there.

Meng Yao is the guy who wants to take his mother with, and who asks Lan Xichen the one question he’s dreaded knowing the answer to his entire life - not ‘will you stay and die with me?’, but the one that hides beyond that.

Is this what devotion is? Respect? Love? Is there, at this moment in time, enough of all of those things in your heart that you will, in fact, stay and die with me?

When Lan Xichen says yes, without words but still loudly enough to be understood without a doubt, Meng Yao is relieved, while Jin Guangyao is vindicated.

When Lan Xichen says yes, neither version of A-Yao needs to hear any more than that - the seventeen-year-old boy shooting a shot way above his station and loving a statue made of jade, who wants Lan Xichen to survive, and the man wearing the wrong name and the title of the first Chief Cultivator of his generation, who wants Lan Xichen to live with the weight of all his mistakes and misgivings, are both, for once, in accord. They’re both happy, and they both make that final push to save him.

In conclusion, if there even is one to this jumble of random thoughts... Jin Guangyao and Meng Yao are one and the same. Aspects of one can be found in the other, but neither feels remorse about his choices. Both of them, in turn, are capable of amazing things. Both of them are, in fact, capable of decidedly horrible things. One builds a wall around the other so thick, so impenetrable, you only catch glimpses, and only the ones he allows you to see. One learns very quickly that vulnerability is dangerous, unless employed proactively, and the other one perfects the craft.

Both of them believe they are perfectly justified in their actions. Both of them believe their own line of reasoning, their own excuses. Both of them want to be loved, for very different reasons, or for the very same ones, at the end of the day.

Both of them aspire to greatness, Meng Yao some vague idea of it instilled in him by his mother teaching him to believe his own worth, Jin Guangyao a more concrete vision of it, always one step ahead, one step higher up those gilded stairs. Both of them are willing to excuse a whole lot to reach it, too.

And when Jin Guangyao finally stands in Koi Tower, properly this time, wearing that coveted golden peony, wearing that red zhushazhi and a much nicer version of the hat his mother always told him to wear, but also wearing the wrong fucking name, one that barely gives him a spot in the family he belongs to by blood?

All he needs to do is take one look in the mirror to see Meng Yao staring back, always there with him, always ready to remind him where he came from. He’s seventeen years old, and he just buried his mother, and somewhere out there, the rest of his life awaits. His smile is all dimples, and that, too, they have in common.

Time to get to work, Meng Yao suggests, and Jin Guangyao agrees.

#jin guangyao #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #so this is..... a thing.#honestly I'm. i can't say that eloquence was my primary goal here #can't really even be sure WHAT the primary goal was #but this is now a thing that exists so take it off my hands I suppose #while I go make some hot chocolate and think of bunny rabbits and rainbows for a while #to cleanse my palate #Anonymous #ask #jgy #my meta

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kurowrites · 4 years

Note

for the courtesan!wwx fic, i would love to know how the jiangs react to finding out where wwx has been!

Earlier posts

LXC finds LWJ and the boy that is now named Wei Wuxian in the library, where LWJ is trying to teach him how to read. It’s both easy and difficult at the same time, because WWX is endlessly curious and wants to learn very much, but he’s also easily distracted by everything (there are so many things he has never experienced, living on the streets and in a brothel for most of his life), and sometimes, when he gets bored, he will revert back to his favourite hobby: flirting with LWJ.

So LXC finds WWX leaning against LWJ’s shoulder, complaining about having to copy another text with his still shaky writing while simulatenously trying to tickle some affection out of LWJ. LXC watches them for one moment, amused, because WWX seems to get more desperate to get LWJ’s attention the longer he lives at Cloud Recesses, while LWJ seems to get more and more confused about why WWX is constantly seeking his attention and touch, when most people are discouraged by his tendency to keep people at arm’s length. (Not WWX, though.) They’re clumsily dancing around each other, and LXC is glad to see that his brother, for once in his life, acts like the teenager that he is rather than a too-small adult.

He eventually interrupts them and tells WWX that there are guests that are waiting to meet him. WWX looks at him with big eyes and clutches at LWJ’s sleeve. Immediately, LWJ announces “I will go with him.” His brother won’t tell him that something has happened in words, but LXC knows LWJ well enough to understand the rest. Recently, LWJ is never far from WWX unless absolutely necessary, and WWX has become a little jumpy with physical closeness from people that he doesn’t know and trust. But he seems to feel extremely safe around LWJ, seems to trust him implicitly, and that, LXC can appreciate.

WWX brings his doe eyes out to blink at LXC and asks him what guests they have as they head towards the reception hall. It’s an agressively cutesy way of wheedling information out of other people, and LQR hates it when WWX does it, but LXC has come to learn that he employs this strategy whenever he’s nervous and tries to hide it. It’s his way of ingratiating himself, trying to keep people from getting angry at him and his many questions. (And some people misunderstand.) So he pats WWX’s head (WWX seems to like that, and LXC is still mourning the fact that his brother won’t let him do it any longer) and tells him that it’s the sect leader of Yunmeng Jiang, an old friend of his parents.

WWX’s eyes shine with curiosity then, because he wants to know more about his parents, those people he only remembers in little flashes of memories. Once they arrive at the reception hall, LXC introduces him to Jiang Fengmian and his two children. (His wife opted to remain in Yunmeng and take care of the sect business.) Jiang Fengmian smiles at WWX with a genuinely happy smile and announces how glad he is that he finally found the son of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze, and to find him in Gusu of all places! WWX greets him back with the same stiff formality he has apparently copied from LWJ, and it’s a little funny, at least to LXC.

They get on well quickly, Jiang Fengmian eager to talk about WWX’s parents, and WWX equally eager to listen. At one point, however, JFM’s son, Jiang Cheng, who is about the same age as WWX, suddenly bursts out: “He’s not much though, is he, despite having such a famous mother?” JFM and JC’s sister, Jiang Yanli, quickly admonish him. WWX, on the other hand, pouts a little bit, and then delicately lifts his sleeve to cover his mouth, and tilts his head just so, the very picture of elegant, seductive indignation.

“This lowly disciple knows he is not much to look at,” he says delicately. “But Wei Ying is trying his best, and will aim to live up to his mother’s name.”

It’s a tableau that’s simultaneously ridiculous and yet highly effective. JC sputters and turns bright red, and even JFM seems to be caught off-balance for a moment.

Then he laughs and shakes his head.

“I am sure you are. You should come with us to Yunmeng, after you have finished learning the basics here. I’m sure our sect can teach you much.”

JYL smiles at WWX encouragingly, as if she cannot imagine anything better. And, knowing her character quite well, LXC is sure she would love another Shidi to take care of.

JC, on the other hand, is still fighting the blush in his cheeks, and he glares at WWX a little (which, for some reason, seems to amuse WWX, and he flutters his eyes at him in a way LXC is sure is meant to be teasing, not seductive, and JC lets out an angry huff).

WWX bows deeply to JFM and tells him that he would be honoured to be taught by Yunmeng Jiang.

His first question, however...

“Can Lan Zhan come with me?”

#kuro answers #mdzs headcanons #courtesan!wwx #anonymous

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drwcn · 4 years

Text

discordance!verse part 3: The affair came to light. Wei Wuxian took the whip. But words got out. All is not quiet in Lotus Pier.

in which wwx is lxc’s husband through political alliance, and there is an affair.

[8] | [7] | [6] | [5] | [4] | [3] | [2] | [1] [synopsis]

Because someone asked:

^ Sorry anon, not exactly what you were asking for. :) But you asked for Jiang Yanli, and I delivered.

Jiang Yanli was sweating by the time her boat from Lanling finally docked at the pier. In the back of her mind was the constant nagging agitation of being away from Jin Ling, but Zixuan had reassured her that he would clear his agenda for the day and stay with their son diligently. The animosity and tension that simmered beneath the surface of Jinlintai’s false tranquility could erupt...any day. Like arrows on a bow pulled taut, they were all waiting for the release.

At time like this, Jiang Yanli did not think she would have to worry about yet another disaster, but here she was, rushing to her maiden home bearing the most heinous of rumours.

Jiang Yanli’s frown darkened, remembering the smugness on Jin Zixun’s face that morning in the peony garden. The derogatory remarks had almost been enough to make her hurl up her breakfast.

Is this the teachings of Yunmeng? I would have expected better from Lotus Pier, but then again, that ill-bred tramp have always been this way. It wouldn’t even be surprising had his target not been Lan Wangji. Righteous holier-than-thou Lan Wangji. Only goes to show you can never really know a person, isn’t that right, dear cousin?

Jiang Yanli stormed through the front gates, a torrent of gold silk and coral chiffon. Not waiting for disciples to announce her, she aimed straight for the main hall.

“A-die, a-niang!”

Her heart was in her throat. Oh, but she could already imagine her mother’s face. This could end badly in so many ways. If there was any truth to these rumours...she did not know how Gusu Lan dealt with such an infraction, but the Violet Spider would demonstrate to the world exactly why she was dubbed thusly. The stain upon Yunmeng and Lotus Pier, upon the Jiang family - there was not a doubt in Jiang Yanli’s mind that her mother would take it all out on Wei Wuxian.

Impossible. Simply impossible. It can’t be true. A-Xian would never. He would never -

Except maybe it was all true. It could be... because - because she herself had seen it, just weeks ago, at Jinlintai, at A-Ling’s one-month celebration -

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, look, look how chubby he is, isn’t my nephew the cutest?”

“Mn. Very cute.”

It should’ve been an innocent enough exchange, and it would’ve been, had she not seen the hand Lan Wangji laid against the small of A-Xian’s back as he leaned over his shoulder to peer down at the baby. Jiang Yanli, who had looked away briefly to instruct the wet-nurse to fetch a soother for A-Ling, had turned around to witness the hand caress her brother low along his spine, close to his tail bone.

Heavens above, what if it’s true...

She was shocked to say the least. That should’ve been an inappropriate action for anyone who wasn’t Lan Xichen, and even if it were Lan Xichen, the placement of that hand was dangerously bordering on indecent! Though the garden at the time contained no one but them three and baby Rulan basking in their loving attention, they were still very much out in the open public. Any disciple or banquet guest could have come strolling through and seen!

She had expected A-Xian to jerk, to flinch, to moved away and be offended by such a liberal gesture of familiarity and affection, but her brother didn’t move an inch. Instead, he turned and flashed Lan Wangji a smile that was as warm and bright as the morning sun. Graced with the potency of A-Xian’s joy, Lan Wangji’s whole countenance softened, from his eyes to his lips which curled ever so slightly at the corner into a gentle smile of his own.

Yanli had told herself that it was nothing, that she was over thinking it, that it was a good thing that A-Xian was able to befriend the unapproachable Hanguang-jun. But now...

No... oh A-Xian, didi, what have you done...

“Da-xiao’jie!” the maid exclaimed and curtsied to her as Jiang Yanli approached the doorway of the empty main hall. “Thank goodness you are here! Zong’zhu, fu’ren and shao’ye are all in an uproar!” [ Da-xiao’jie - first young mistress, it’s a spoken honorific similarly used as ‘your ladyship’]

So words have reached Lotus Pier too...

Damage control, what she needed to do was damage control. She could do this. She was not Jin-shao-fu’ren, the future Lady of Lanling, for nothing.

Jiang Yanli spun on her. “My parents, where are they?!”

“In the Master’s study!”

She followed the maid as they wound through Lotus Pier’s many boardwalk aisles and water gardens. Without realizing, the two of them quickened their pace to a trot then to a run when they heard Yu Ziyuan’s voice echoing from the distance.

“A-die, a-niang!” Jiang Yanli charged into her father’s study, interrupting her mother mid-tirade. “Something must be done about these abominable rumours circulating -”

Yanli froze, one feet still on the other side of the threshold. The heart that had been skipping in her throat dropped instantly, free falling into the deepest, darkest pit of her gut where her suspicions hid all along.

Jiang Fengmian sat in his front of his work table, hunched over, his whole weight supported by the hand spanning his forehead. In his other hand was several sheets of paper - letters or missives by the look of it, Gusu Lan’s ink emblem just visible underneath his thumb.

Jiang Yanli had never seen her father so utterly defeated.

Between her parents was her little brother, clearly in the middle of trying to calm down their mother, but was equally red in the face, and practically bristling like an enraged kitten.

Upon her arrival, three pairs of eyes flicked simultaneously to the door.

“A-Li.” The fury that seemed to evaporate from Madam Yu’s every pore tempered fractionally at the sight of her daughter. “What brings you home?”

“What brings me -” Jiang Yanli gaped, glancing from her mother to her father to her brother. “The rumours about A-Xian -”

Incensed instantly, Yu Ziyuan exclaimed, “How did you find out?!”

Once, such a display would’ve cowed her without fail, but Jiang Yanli was no longer a child of timid disposition. Living in a pit of snakes had toughened her against all manners of the world’s assault.

“I overheard my maids gossiping amongst themselves this morning. A-Xuan heard it from his cousins. I dare say even His Excellency and pomu would’ve heard of it by now.” [pomu 婆母 - husband’s mother]

Jiang Yanli pursed her lips, feeling a sudden sense of unease over top the preexisting anxiety. “Was it supposed to be a secret?”

Jiang Fengmian sighed, holding out the letter towards his children as if its mere existence appalled him. “A letter from Elders of Gusu Lan arrived this morning.”

Jiang Cheng took the sheets from their father, hesitating when Yanli strode up to him. “A-jie...”

In the background, Madam Yu paced the length of her husband’s study, cursing under her breath.

"Thank goodness you have married and married well, A-Li,” She said. “Or else this boy's philandering ways would have ruined your prospects. As it is, A-Cheng -"

Swirling on his mother in an uncharacteristically brisk manner, Jiang Wangyin interjected loudly, "I don't care about prospects, a-niang! They had him whipped! Three hundred and one disciplinary lashes! How is he now? Is he even even - even alive?! Gusu Lan doesn’t tell us anything -"

“What?!” Jiang Yanli yanked the letter from Jiang Cheng’s hand, eyes darting back and forth as she bored over its contents. A moment later, she lowered it slowly, looking up at her brother whose distress mirrored her own, and then at their parents whose distress were for different reasons entirely, reasons she understood but could not empathize at all.

The world suddenly felt enormous, cold, and without air. Jiang Yanli stumbled back half a step, as imagined scenes of A-Xian being pinned down and tortured flashed before her eyes.

“A-jie!” Jiang Cheng lunged forward and caught her by the elbow.

Jiang Yanli trembled, with fury or fear she could not discern. “How could they do such a thing to him? Three hundred lashes...What about Lan-er-gongzi? What punishment did he receive?!"

Rising from his seat, their father sighed deeply, folding his hands behind him. “Unfortunately, the fault lies with us.”

Nothing then. Typical.

Jiang Cheng made a frustrated noise. “Us?! How could the fault be with us?! That's bullshit!”

But Madam Yu, for once, agreed with her husband. “We all know that Wei Wuxian is a notorious flirt. It's hardly surprising that something like that would -”

“A-niang that isn't true!” Both Jiang children exclaimed at the same time.

“But A-Xian and Hanguang-jun were caught in the act,” Their father admonished them, displeased with their tone. “There were multiple eye witnesses.”

Eye witnesses. Jiang Yanli could only imagine what that meant. Surely they were not found in...in bed together. Multiple eye witnesses, no surely not. It couldn’t be as bad as that. At best, at best... at best it was something akin to what she’d seen. A misplaced hand, a misconstrued embrace... a kiss -

No, no, even that would be too much.

“...rolling around in the grass like a heathen, taking Hanguang-jun down with him -”

Jiang Yanli’s head snapped up at her mother’s vivid description of the event. Her words echoed what she had heard in Lanling from the maids and disciples and Zixuan’s cousins. That A-Xian and Lan Wangji were found lying together in the grass, with her brother sitting astride the Second Jade, bent over, exchanging more than just whispers.

A-Xian, A-Xian how am I supposed to help you now...what can I do now?

Tears dissolved her vision into fractals of colours and light. She turned away from her family as the first of them began to fall. Mother never liked her tears, and Father never knew what to do with them.

Her brother A-Cheng, however, could not be stopped once he got started, and whatever ignited him before Jiang Yanli arrived had clearly sparked a wild fire that burned through the last of Jiang Wanyin’s patience with this family.

"Rolling around in the grass?! Then it must be Lan Wangji's fault! You've all mistaken Wei Wuxian. Yes he's loud and obnoxious and chatty, but that's it! If people mistaken him for a scoundrel, it's only because he's friendly and talkative and doesn't have a filter half the time.”

Jiang Cheng took a breath, shifting his glance from his mother to his father, who stared at him with something akin to shock and an emotion he couldn’t quite place.

“I know him, a-die, a-niang.” Jiang Cheng continued, quieter. “Wei Wuxian, he's - he's - he was a virgin before he married.” A heated blush bloomed across his cheeks, but he pushed through the embarrassment. “A-Xian was a huge virgin! He's never even held hands with anyone!"

Exasperated, Yu Ziyuan rolled her eyes at her son, as if his arguments were nothing but the antics of a naive child. "Son, you can't know that -"

"I do know that because I know him!" Jiang Cheng protested fiercely, both red in the face and around his eyes now. He was close to tears too.

"And that Lan Wangji,” he spat with obvious disdain, “Cloud Recesses' disciples are all scared of him. Everyone knows he is cold and disagreeable! If you don't believe me, ask Jin Zixuan! A-jie, you were at Cloud Recesses too with us, is that not what the females disciples say? That he never smiles, never talks, never mingles with anyone! Gusu Lan wants to feed us the tale that Wei Wuxian, within a span of a year, went from completely inexperienced to seducing the most unsociable man of our generation?! I refuse to believe it! Who's to say A-Xian is at fault? Who's to say Lan Wangji isn't a....a... secret sex fiend!"

Jiang Cheng’s outcry silenced the whole room. Jiang Yanli felt a bubble of hysteria rising in her chest. Things were starting to spin out of control.

“Jiang Cheng!” Jiang Fengmian scolded. “You watch your language in front your elders, and you sister.”

At that, Jiang Yanli whipped her sleeve back in annoyance, raising her voice for the first time since this whole ordeal began, “Oh please a-die, I have a baby son!”

A-Xian’s life and future hung in the balance and language was where he drew the line? Not the three hundred or so lashes?!

Dropping the letter onto the table, she took a deep breath and gathered herself. Now was no time to let her emotions get the best of her.

“When did they say the incident was?” She asked.

“Two days ago,” replied her father.

Two days ago and already most of Jinlintai is well versed in the details of the scandal? Jiang Yanli believed in the power of gossip to spread like an infection, but even so, the speed at which this specific piece of information disseminated struck her as particularly malignant.

Gusu Lan would’ve wanted to contain it. To save face but also to not push Yunmeng Jiang to the brink. This is an alliance after all. Marriage is one thing, but the stability of our sects is another all together.

But the containment clearly didn’t turn out as intended. Whatever machination was behind this, the proverbial cat was out of the bag and there was no reversing its effects. Had it been simple a family matter, Jiang Yanli would not doubt her parents’ ability to wrangle some kind of compromise from the onerous traditionalists whom Cloud Recesses revered as their Elders.

和离 heli - an amicable separation. That was the best course of action, to save face and to preserve the peace between their clans.

But with rumours festering in every corner of their realm, passed from mouth to ear and mouth to ear again, embellished and dramatized along the way, it was not feasible anymore to settle this under the table.

More than just the relationship between three individuals, the reputation and dignity of two major clans rested on the line.

As a married woman in this world, Jiang Yanli knew as much as her mother knew, as much as any women knew, that this line was more often than not painted with blood.

“Did Gusu Lan voice any demands from us?”

“Not as of yet,” Jiang Fengmian replied. “Though, they invited your mother and I to Cloud Recesses in a week’s time to discuss what to do be done. They did not say in as many words, but we must prepare ourselves for the possibility that they intend to ‘xiu’fu’.”

Yanli gasped, “They want to ‘xiu’ A-Xian?” For something that was at best only half his fault?

‘xiu’fu’ was not just a divorce. It was a condemnation, like discarding a pair of used old shoes, dregs to be tossed out. It was the fate of almost every woman found guilty of betraying her marriage bed, and some for reasons even less than that. The unfortunates who were ‘xiu’-ed by their husbands could never wash themselves clean of the stain upon their persons. They lived a ruined life, a half-life plagued by gossips and scorn, not...that they lived all that long in the end.

A-Xian may not be a woman, but theirs was a gendered society, and his marrying out of Yunmeng Jiang and into Gusu Lan had fixed his position in a lower stratum. Because of this, his outcome would not be much better.

The horrifying truth was, Jiang Yanli could not dispute that Gusu Lan Sect and Lan Xichen were well within their rights to do whatever they damn well pleased.

Except they cannot deny that Lan Wangji is just as culpable. That is the only card we have left to play...

While she struggled internally with the fine minutiae of social niceties, her brother Jiang Cheng’s thoughts were going down an entirely different path.

“Why is it that none of you are indignant?!” He stomped his feet, fist clenched and shaking. “Have you for one second even considered that maybe Wei Wuxian wasn’t even a willing participant? That Lan Wangji had - had forced himself on - on...” A-Cheng trailed off, the end of that sentence too gruesome to complete. His meaning, however, was lost on no one.

Jiang Yanli sighed, touched by the extent of A-Cheng’s concern. Though perhaps in this one instance, he really did overreach. Not that this wouldn’t be a possibility of course, and had the accused been her and not A-Xian, and the man been - hm say Jin Zixun- and not Lan Wangji, then what he suggested would be at the forefront of their parents’ suspicions. Except Wei Wuxian was not Jiang Yanli. Zewu-jun did not marry him solely for his pretty face. By all standards, he was a proficient cultivator, even more powerful now that he’s matured and come into his own. That anyone could wrangled him on his back for that kind of purpose was indeed not very likely, and besides -

“Lan Zhan, would you like to hold him? Hold Rulan?”

“Mn? Looks heavy.”

“Lan Zhan!”

No, decided Jiang Yanli, her brother’s laughter still echoing in her memory. It was far more plausible that this love affair was more love than affair, which was why the wound it would inevitably leave behind for both A-Xian and Lan Wangji would be that much harder to heal.

She turned her attention back to Jiang Cheng, who had picked up on his tirade again and ploughed forth uninhibited.

“Look at you both. Look at this family, if it even is that at all! Wei Wuxian is at Cloud Recesses right now, suffering, and none of you even care! You only care about what this will do to Lotus Pier's image. A-die, you claim to love him, doted on him his whole life, but where are you now that he needs you?! A-niang, Cangse Sanren is dead. She did not raise him, you did! And even if he is Father’s son, so what, so what?! Has he not done everything you ever asked him? Has he not made Lotus Pier proud? Do you even know how many bastards Jin Guangshan has floating around unclaimed?! Yunmeng only has one Wei Wuxian, and blood or not, I only have one brother!"

Jiang Cheng broke off abruptly, face wet with tears. He made a rough swipe at them with his sleeves, but spoke no more. Jiang Yanli wasn’t sure if it was because his audacity had shocked even himself or if he had realized that any more unfiltered outbursts and Madam Yu really would let him have a taste of Zidian’s sting.

Knowing he had unloaded a lot of bold words that were the epitome of impertinent behaviour, and not wishing to stick around to find out their consequences, Jiang Cheng grabbed Sandu and spun on his heels.

Purple electricity zipped through the air as the whip tail clacked against the door frame, jolting him sideways.

“Where do you think you’re going boy? Stop at once!"

"I'm going to Cloud Recesses and getting my brother back! If Gusu Lan doesn't want him, then I will not leave him there to be abused! He deserves to come home, and to hell with them!"

“A-Cheng, A-Cheng, didi, wait, wait!” Jiang Yanli rushed to his side, stopping him in his track. “Impulsivity solves nothing. We cannot rush this. A-die, a-niang, A-Cheng has obviously had quite a shock, as we all have. He isn’t himself; please forgive him for his earlier rudeness. I’ll take him out to the river to cool off. Come, A-Cheng, come along.”

Begrudgingly, Jiang Cheng allowed himself to be dragged away by his sister.

“Not a word from you until we’re out of earshot,” she whispered to him.

Wilting, he obeyed.

Jiang Yanli kept a tight grip on this brother of hers. She knew she had to think of a solution quickly and carefully. If not, then by the week’s end, A-Cheng could very well be the only brother she had left.

[part 4]

#cql #the untamed #wangxian technically #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #yunmeng jiang #jiang wanyin #jiang fengmian #yu ziyuan #madam yu #discordance #discau #corie fics

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xichenggg · 4 years

Text

Imagine Jingyi as Xicheng' son who is now in uni, living away from his parents and lives in a dorm with Sizhui as a room mate.

One saturday night, his uncle WWX called him.

"JINGYI!!!"

" U-uncle Wei. You don't need to shout. I can hear you."

"Oh. okay.. JINGYI! CAN YOU GO HOME TONIGHT?!"

"Seriously uncle. My eardrums!"

"Oh sorry."

"The last bus leaves in 30 mins, why?"

" uhmm. I'm kind of in a middle of a situation right no-"

"WEI WUXIAN!!! IS THAT MY BABY?! " interrupted a drunk JC.

"D-dad?!"

LXC: Baby? You have a baby Jiang Wanyin?! *cries in the background.* A-zhan! Wanyin has a child! I don't have a chance anymore!

"W-what the fuck is happening over there?! Are my parents drunk?!"

"Ehe"

"Don't fucking ehe me uncle!!!"

"Xichen-ge, stop crying you two are marrie- ah! Huaisang! That is not a bed! It's a table! and don't put your head on that cake! It's not a- arghhh too late. btw Jingyi, language. "

"S-sorry, how did this happen?!"

"It's Muscle-ge and Dimple's aniversary"

"I guess you threw a private party? But I know my parents, uncle. I would understand about my dad getting drunk, but my Papa too? "

"JC was supposed to be the only one drinking between your two dads but the lan brothers tried a bite of my food-"

"A weiwuxian-level-of-spicyness kind of food?

"A what- oh! Uhm..yes. And besides the Lan, I was the only sober person in the group so I panicked and the waiter nearby tried to help but accidentally gave them white wine instead of water ."

"Holy shit"

"Again, Jingyi language"

‐----------‐----------------------

That night WWX drop the drunk Xicheng couple in their home, lucky for him, Jingyi was already outside waiting at the front door.

"Papa stop running around! And please put on some clothes!" Yelled Jingyi, chasing LXC around the living room.

"Catch me first! "

Jingyi halted on his tracks, panting. His Papa was like a little child with so much andrenaline.

When LXC noticed Jingyi stopping, he giddily hop his way towards him asking "are you tired already?"

Jingyi saw this as a chance to catch his Papa "caught you!"

But.

"Missed!" LXC giggled and run away to Hide in the kitchen.

Jingyi sighed and turned his attention to his Dad.

JC was was laying on the floor next to the sofa, crying.

"dad are you okay?"

"who are you?"

"Uhm- you're son?"

"You are not, My Jingyi is not here. He is in the dorm! It's late, he is not allowed to go out late! " he retorted childishly, giving out the poutiest of all pouts which Jingyi thought was quit cute for someone who mostly wears a scowl 24/7.

"In the dorm.." JC repeated, face slowly twisting to cry again, His lower lip trembed as he mumbled his next words,

"Away from his parents.

Away from me."

His Dad, cried like a little child after.

"D-dad stop crying.." Jingyi sat in the floor next to JC, wiping off every tear that falls from his Dad's eyes.

"My Jingyi! I miss my Jingyi!

I want to see my Jingyi."

"Dad I am here.", he told JC, now combing his hair gently.

JC either ignored what he said or was too busy being emotional to actually hear his son but he suddenly sat up and look like he had an idea , he grab the hem of Jingyi's sweater, "Let's go to his dorm. Please .." he pleaded with puppy dog eyes.

Seriously, his parents are like children when drunk, thought Jingyi and facepalms internally.

"Dad.."

Suddenly he heard something fell on the kitchen which startled both him and JC. His Papa!

"Dad wait here. I'll go check on Papa. I'll get you water too."

JC nods like a little kid, pouting.

--------------------‐

When Jingyi reached the kitchen, he was greeted with the most ridiculous scene he has ever seen with his Papa. His respectable CEO Papa.

LXC was standing near a counter covered in flour and chocolate syrup.

"Papa what are you doing? "

"baking?" It sounded more like a question than an answer to Jingyi because LXC wasn't sure how to do what he was trying to do.

"Aissshh! Let's go take a bath. "

He grabs LXC's hand and drags him out the kitchen.

"but I want to bake Jiang Wanyin cupcakes! Oh and his son too! I want to marry Jiang Wanyin and be the father of his son.

"You don't even know how to cook!"

When they reached the living room, JC was already gone.

"Where is dad?"

At the corner of his eyes , Jingyi noticed his room door was open. He walk straight there pulling the teary eyed Lan Xichen.

" I want to cook for Wanyin." He complain.

Standing from the door. Jingyi saw JC laying on his bed, sleeping peacefully.

" I have to help dad change in his pajamas later" he mentally told himself, smiling lovingly at his Dad's direction.

He went to get his papa in the bath after.

"oh! Bath! " LXC exclaimed excitedly when they reached the tub and saw Jingyi running the tap.

He immediately took off all of his clothes in front of Jingyi who was kneeling beside the tub and his thing was directly right at Jingyi's horror-stricken face, greeting him of it's shaven glory.

Jingyi is now scarred for life.

After making sure LXC was already cleaned up and ready for bed he went to his dad , woke him up, then helped him change.

He succesfully got them both to bed that night but when he was about to leave them to get in his own room he was pulled by both and despite the sleepiness overtaking them again, both father was able to muster a soft "goodnight A-yi" .

Jingyi can't helped but smile, as he hugged his parents back.

He missed them so much.

#xicheng #lan xichen #jiang wanyin #jiang cheng #lan huan #lan jingyi #xicheng family #mdzs #short story #mo dao zu shi #mdzs fanart

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carolyncaves · 4 years

Text

WWX Goes to Gusu: Part 3, in which things get a little out of hand ... aka I was definitely not planning for this to become a full-blown elaborate wedding fic, but here we are. 8501 words, Wangxian, LXC, LQR, vague mental illness, tenderness and devotion, marriage proposal, Lan family feelings, the author trying to thread the needle re: nonheteronormativity vs vaguely gendered wedding & marriage things

part one | part two | also on ao3

Lan Wangji could see the precise moment Xichen realized what he was suggesting – a marriage between himself and Wei Ying. He stood up a little straighter, as if realizing he was going to have to be a sect leader and eldest brother in this conversation even this early in the morning. A bittersweetness appeared in the set of his eyebrows. He believed Lan Wangji was being foolishly lovelorn.

In fact Lan Wangji was terrified and this was the only straw within his desperate reach.

“This seems very sudden,” Xichen said. “I know you harbor a deep affection for Wei-gongzi, have perhaps for years, but in recent times he’s held you harshly at a distance.”

“It’s not like that. Xiongzhang, he is vulnerable to Jin-zongzhu.” He was also vulnerable to himself, and to Jiang Wanyin, and to everybody who came within arm’s reach of him, but Lan Wangji could not say any of that.

“Did he request this of you?” Xichen asked, clear eyes sharp.

“We have not discussed it.”

Xichen sighed. He slowly crossed the hanshi – so similar to the jingshi, in its uncluttered elegance, but so different in that it was Xichen’s and Lan Wangji could not imagine Wei Ying within it – and sat down at the table, which bore tea. It must have been delivered before Lan Wangji arrived – no simple feat, since he had risen carefully from the bed and left the jingshi even before the dawn chime sounded.

He hadn’t slept. He had spent the night absorbing the texture of Wei Ying’s hair, its scent, the tide of his breath and its dampness against his chest. The warmth of him. The bright shine of his drowsy eyes when he couldn’t sleep and the peace on his haggard face when he could. The weight of his arm and the affectionate brush of his thumb against Lan Wangji’s spine, comforting even now when he was the one wounded. The shift of his leg between Lan Wangji’s own – completely idle, totally at ease, the two of them sharing one space. There could be nothing more natural in all the world, and nothing more rare and precious.

Lan Wangji had spent the night planning to marry Wei Ying. Now it was morning, so he could try to do it.

Xichen poured himself a cup. “Do you think he would agree? His brother has just ascended as Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang. It was difficult to convince him to come to Cloud Recesses even temporarily.”

Lan Wangji shook his head. “I would go to Lotus Pier.”

Xichen paused, tea halfway to his mouth. It had likely never occurred to him Lan Wangji might marry out. It hadn’t occurred to Lan Wangji himself until it was nearly too late.

“Wangji,” Xichen said solemnly, “Why don’t you sit?” He retrieved another cup from the tray and placed it across from him.

Lan Wangji obeyed. He sat and drank, and otherwise said nothing and did nothing. He let Xichen think.

At length, Xichen said, “It would not be disadvantageous.” His words were slow, as if draw through deep water, some thick medium which resisted their passing. “Under Jiang Wanyin, the Jiang sect has emerged vibrant from the ashes of their defeat. Wei Wuxian is a formidable figure, weakened only by his instability and Jiang-zongzhu’s youth and insecurity, which Jin Guangshan uses to undermine them both.” He paused. Then, “The Lan sect would benefit from their alliance, and the Jiang sect would benefit from the aura of the Lan sect’s venerable reputation.”

Lan Wangji’s hand clenched involuntarily around the teacup. “You will allow it?”

“Wangji … I sense you are doing this because feel you would be protecting Wei-gongzi, but I must ask you to also consider yourself. You have your own life. This is too much of yourself to give solely on his behalf.”

“No.” Lan Wangji didn’t know how to put what he felt into words. “Xiongzhang. Who else but Wei Ying?”

He worried that wouldn’t be clear enough, didn’t know how to convey that he would not be giving anything, that it was Wei Ying whose hand would be forced and he who would be going with his whole heart – but a very soft expression settled over Xichen’s face. “Ah, Wangji. Please understand it’s hard for me to grapple with the idea of parting from my dear younger brother. If this is what you yourself want, I would never stand in your way.”

Lan Wangji felt so pleased and relieved he might perhaps have smiled.

Xichen certainly smiled back at him, though it was touched with bemusement. “It’s a little early for that, don’t you think? There are a number of other people whose agreement we must secure.”

We. Lan Wangji did not know what he could have done in his past lives to deserve an older brother like Xichen.

“Who will you approach first?” Xichen continued. “Wei-gongzi, or Shufu?”

Wangji had considered that. There had never been any question Lan Wangji would start with Xichen, but having received his blessing: “If Wei Ying is not willing, there is no need to involve Shufu.”

Xichen nodded his agreement. “Additionally, if Shufu is to be convinced, I think Wei-gongzi will need to give an account.” At even the mention of that, Xichen sighed.

Lan Wangji could not argue with his dismay. Shufu would be nearly impossible to sway, considering his opinion of Wei Ying to start and Wei Ying’s new cultivation besides. It did not matter. Lan Wangji would try. Lan Wangji would succeed. If Wei Ying was willing, how could Lan Wangji do anything but marry him?

If Wei Ying was willing.

When Lan Wangji returned to the jingshi after accompanying Xichen during his breakfast, he found Wei Ying awake, sitting bleary and alone at the table, eating breakfast himself. The servants must have come at Lan Wangji’s usual time. For a brief moment he was angry at them, for waking Wei Ying when he’d been sleeping. But that was not fair. He was unhappier with himself, for leaving Wei Ying alone. It had been necessary, to initiate the motion of this necessary thing, but he had not intended for Wei Ying to wake up with the bed empty beside him.

“Have they made you start rising even earlier now?” Wei Ying said, before yawning around his porridge. “The Lan schedule is truly merciless.”

Lan Wangji made himself sit across from him as if nothing were different. In truth, nothing was different. Not yet. “I apologize. There was a matter that could not wait.”

“You know, you can go off and do things even though I’m here, Lan Zhan. I realize I am in quite a pitiful state, but I will be able to survive for brief periods without your kind and tender care. Not that I’m at all complaining.” Wei Ying looked up at him and smiled, playful and warm despite everything. Lan Wangji wanted to marry him.

Instead he served himself his morning meal and ate it in silence. Never before had the rule against speaking during meals felt so constraining. Perhaps he should be grateful. Without it, he might have asked him over tea and congee.

“Will you go back to sleep?” was what Lan Wangji did in fact ask Wei Ying, when they were through. He would not beleaguer Wei Ying due to his own fervor.

Wei Ying sat back with one of his knees canted up. Improper, but lively. “No, no. Maybe this way I’ll be able to sleep better tonight.” His tone held a little skepticism, but he smiled. He was smiling much more now than he had when he’d arrived, just the night before last. It could have been an affectation, but even so it meant he felt comfortable and strong enough to pretend. “What will we do today? Shall we go back and see the bunnies? If you have work in the Library Pavilion, I could come with you and pretend to copy lines.” His smile turned mischievous for an all-too-brief beat.

“We will go to the cold springs.” Lan Wangji felt hot, too hot. Agitated. Perhaps the water would give him clarity. He needed to get this right. This was the most important question he would ever ask.

And that was the place he had wound his headband around Wei Ying’s wrist – where he had first, barely even knowing or comprehending it, declared to the universe they were one another’s. He’d often wondered if that memory stood out to Wei Ying as well.

Wei Ying ran a hand through his hair, smiling in chagrin. “I guess I could use a wash, ah, Lan Zhan?”

That was not what Lan Wangji had meant – Wei Ying was not noticeably unclean – but if it made him comply, Lan Wangji would not argue.

///

Wei Wuxian was hardly in any position to talk, but Lan Zhan was acting strangely.

More strangely than the magnetic closeness and the constant possessive touch. That was actually all very delightful, and Lan Zhan was still doing it – but now he also seemed distracted. It was a little hard to tell with someone who neglected to react to things as often as Lan Zhan, but Wei Wuxian knew him very well. He was needing even longer than normal to think and speak, and he was taking Wei Wuxian’s teasing – ah, Lan Zhan, I’m going to wash my ankles now, don’t look! – with a dazed silence, instead of his more usual pointed unamusement or even the dry-tinder outrage that had been so easy to kindle when they were younger.

Lan Zhan ended up coaxing them to sit very close to each other in the therapeutic cold water, inner robes plastered to their skin. Lan Zhan’s eyes kept flitting between the forest across the pond and Wei Wuxian’s face. Wei Wuxian would to need to go off on his own to wash his hair and scrub his body at some point – preferably soon, before he froze to death – and it didn’t seem as though Lan Zhan was going to give him an opening.

“Do you have something on your mind, Lan Zhan?” He nudged his shoulder. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. If you need to be taking care of some other business, whatever you were doing this morning, just say so. Or if you’re already regretting the two weeks, that’s fine as well. I’m nothing but a humble guest in your home, and you and Zewu Jun have already been unbelievably kind. You’ve helped me a great deal.” And that was true – Wei Wuxian felt better today. Lighter, freer. If he reached for them, he could detect that tension and anguish and despair right around the corner, waiting for him, but as long as he didn’t look directly at them, he was able to pretend they weren’t there.

He would have no choice but to look at them when he went back. But right now he was carefully ignoring the whole snarl. That was a problem for a future Wei Wuxian.

Lan Zhan’s mind was very far away. Then he was right here, and then he was facing Wei Wuxian and clasping both of his pruny hands in his strong, skillful own.

“Wei Ying,” he said, and then he didn’t continue. His expression was a little frantic.

“It’s okay, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, because whatever it was, it would be – or at least, he’d do his best to make it that way. “You can take your time.”

Lan Zhan did – he took a breath. He took his time. When he spoke, it was quietly, and he said, “Wei Ying, would you let me marry you?”

At first Wei Wuxian couldn’t even make sense of his meaning. Marriage was a concept he had really never applied to himself, if he were honest. He had to go through the sentence word-by-word like a young schoolchild. Once he had and he understood it, his heart dropped into a yawning endless void.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, toneless even to his own ears, “you don’t have to do that.”

“No.” Lan Zhan squeezed his hands like a vice, unyielding when he tried to pull away. “There’s no ‘have to’. I want to marry you. To be married to you.”

“But.” His voice came out tight and cracked, but he couldn’t help it. “How can I let you do that? How can Hanguang Jun marry me?” Demonic cultivator, master of wicked tricks. Tainted with resentment. Without a golden core. Ruined.

“I would ask for nothing more in all my life,” Lan Zhan said, as if that were a reasonable response. “Whatever the form, I would be content if you were. If you would not be, if you are unwilling … I understand. I will find another way.”

“What do you mean, whatever the form?” Wei Wuxian didn’t quite understand what he was talking about, but for some reason he really didn’t like the sound of it. It sounded like deprivation, resignation, sacrifice, and Wei Wuxian would never want that for Lan Zhan. “What do you mean, you’d be content?”

“I understand if you do not feel as I do.”

Wei Wuxian’s ears were ringing. “Feel?” Lan Zhan’s declaration, I would ask for nothing more in all my life, was playing over and over in mind, along with the rabbits in his lap and the tears in Lan Zhan’s eyes when Wei Wuxian asked him to play Cleansing for him, and Lan Zhan’s gentle fingers in his hair last night, and his desperate insistence Wei Wuxian come back to Gusu, and the tender kiss he had planted against Wei Wuxian’s lips when he tried to tell him he didn’t have to help him – all those myriad pieces that actually, when he thought about them for even a fraction of a second, made up one monolithic, all-encompassing whole.

Wei Wuxian gaped, and then he tried to hit him, though his hands were pinned and he was unable to. “Lan Zhan! Did you just say you’d marry me even if I didn’t love you back? That’s terrible. How could I tolerate that?”

“It would not affect my intention. I would do it gladly, if it would protect you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t.” He tugged at his hands, and Lan Zhan still held them. “How am I supposed to embrace you, Lan Zhan, if you keep me trapped like this?”

His hands were freed instantly, and then he was being dragged close. Wei Wuxian threw his own arms around Lan Zhan’s shoulders, clutching at him tightly – they were a tangle of cold water, wet heavy clothes, and hot skin. Lan Zhan eventually pulled him fully into his lap and held him there. Wei Wuxian gladly held him back, let himself relax in the hold of this ridiculous person.

“I do,” Wei Wuxian said into half-damp hair. “Feel the way you do.” Maybe it was shallow to love someone who’d been so good to him, especially when he’d so often been harsh or annoying in return, but he did. There was no use not saying it. “But I don’t know if I can let us get married.”

Lan Zhan’s grip clenched ever tighter. “Why not?”

Why not? Wei Wuxian was choking on the reason, drowning in it. Was Lan Zhan really going to make him say it? He forced himself to laugh. “How shall I order the list? Lan Zhan, I’m me.”

“And?”

“I’m a demon, for one. And parentless, a hanger-on to the Jiang sect, merely Jiang Cheng’s faithful subordinate. Not to mention my small lack …” He drew one hand almost reflexively down to press against the void of his core. Lan Zhan’s hand was right there to cover it. “And you’re Hanguang Jun.” He gripped that hand instead. “One of the Twin Jades of Lan. The most powerful cultivator alive today, in possession of a sterling reputation. It strikes me as too poor a match.”

“You are more powerful than I, with your tools. The Jiang sect is formidable because you are its head disciple. It may be a poor match, as I am only a second son and can offer no heir or political friendships – but I ask that you give me an opportunity to convince you. My spiritual power would be yours, and my sword, so you could keep yourself from the needless fray. My family’s influence …”

“Your family would never agree to me,” Wei Wuxian said, the words striking him hard in the chest for some reason. “Not even if the sun toppled from the heavens and the sea flooded the earth.”

“Xiongzhang has already given his blessing,” Lan Zhan said.

Wei Wuxian pushed himself away so he could look at him, hardly able to believe it. “Is that what you were doing this morning? Before the curfew was even lifted?”

Lan Zhan nodded.

Wei Wuxian felt tears prickling in his eyes. He curled his hands around Lan Zhan’s damp-robed shoulders.

“Wei Ying, do not deflect. Would like to marry me and have me join you in all things for the rest of your life?”

Wei Wuxian was well on his way to crying now, his breaths hitched and unsteady. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. Of course. But …”

Lan Zhan’s hands squeezed viciously. “No ‘but’. Do not think of the obstacles. We will take them together, always. On the same path, without regret. Will you agree?”

“Lan Zhan … you’re too much, you’re not real.” Wei Wuxian put a shaking hand to Lan Zhan’s cheek. “You can’t want to marry me.”

“I judge for myself, and I do.” Lan Zhan mirrored the gesture, carefully moving a strand of hair out of Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “Wei Ying, will you?”

“Lan Zhan!” Lan Zhan had gone mad – that was the only explanation. But Wei Wuxian was not in the best condition himself, and he had no more will to continue fighting, not when he so desperately wanted to give in. “Yes, I will.”

Then they were hugging again, harder than before. Wei Wuxian could barely feel his arms and legs, and he didn’t know that it had much to do with the cold water.

It seemed impossible to imagine. He and Lan Zhan, married. Lan Zhan, who knew his mind, and his secret, and his dreams, who spoke to him when he spoke to nobody and who was righteous and good and whose company he could never tire of keeping. If they got married, Wei Wuxian would never again be asked to choose against him. They would never be required to keep apart. Lan Zhan seemed too calm, but maybe he’d just had more time to get used to it. Wei Wuxian would himself, before long.

For now, he lay his head on Lan Zhan’s shoulder and wept, because Lan Zhan had been cut by him at his most hostile, and seen him at his most bruised, and felt the hollowed-out edges of his vacated power, and still somehow wanted him anyway.

///

It was barely late morning when Lan Xichen received a note from Wangji. It simply read, He is willing.

In the privacy of his own thoughts, Lan Xichen would admit that a small corner of his heart sank. He had always been in favor of Wangji’s relationship with the lively – if unorthodox – Wei-gongzi, but his recent changes had complicated things; Wei Wuxian’s willingness meant either Wangji would leave their home and face Wei Wuxian’s many challenges, or he would be heartbroken when this unlikely betrothal proved impossible to negotiate.

And despite having given the matter some thought, Lan Xichen really could not imagine how Shufu could be convinced.

Still, they would try, so he went to the jingshi to discuss next steps. He found them sitting on the floor in front of the bed: hair damp, Wangji’s headband wound around both their wrists, fingers tangled together, dressed in white inner robes out of Wangji’s wardrobe – looking in all ways a paired set. Wei Wuxian seemed dazed and had obviously been crying, and the open awe with which he was gazing at Wangji went a long way toward mollifying Lan Xichen’s reservations about his reciprocation. Wangji himself looked more beatifically happy than Lan Xichen had ever seen him.

If only Shufu could see this, perhaps he would relent.

“Can we speak with Shufu after lunch?” Wangji asked. Wei Wuxian winced a little, but otherwise did not protest.

“So soon?” Lan Xichen would think Wangji might want to enjoy this for at least short time. “Have you considered how you will approach the meeting?”

“We will ask him. What else can we do?”

Lan Xichen tried not to let his heart feel heavy. Not yet, when, in all current respects, Wangji had precisely what he wanted.

And if Shufu was to be worn down, Lan Xichen imagined it would be very much like water wearing down a stone, which meant it would be good to start now.

First, though: “Don’t you think your prospective husband should ask me for your hand himself at some point?”

Wei Wuxian startled immediately, scrambling to his knees. He was tethered to Wangji, so Lan Xichen went over to them, allowing Wei Wuxian to address him without requiring them to part. His hair was slightly bedraggled from being wet – apparently they had gone to the springs – but his expressive face was solemn as he clasped his hands in front of himself with great formality and said. “Zewu Jun, this humble cultivator seeks a betrothal with your younger brother, Lan Wangji.”

“The head of my family is my shufu, and you will need to ask his permission. If he gives it, I will agree to the betrothal.”

“Thank you, Zewu Jun,” Wei Wuxian murmured, bowing a lot lower than he needed to, considering Lan Xichen had already acquiesced. “For this and every other thing.”

“For this, you have no need to thank me, Wei-gongzi. There are few things I would not do in service of my brother’s wellbeing. You will certainly remember that?”

Perhaps Lan Xichen was mistaken, but he thought he saw Wei Wuxian’s life flash before his eyes as he nodded. “Of course, Zewu Jun.”

“Xiongzhang,” Wangji said woundedly.

“I will call for lunch,” Lan Xichen said, instead of deigning to justify himself, “and you will both need to get fully dressed. Shufu has no afternoon classes today, so I will set an appointment with him in two hours’ time.

When they met him before the path to Shufu’s residence, they were groomed meticulously; Lan Xichen had expected no less. Wangji now wore an elegant white outer robe, and the headband had been returned to his forehead – almost a shame, but likely a wise choice. Wei Wuxian had redressed in his own attire, black with vibrant flashes of red, hair smooth and high, that dark dizi at his waist. Suibian was nowhere to be seen.

On the one hand, he might have considered at least giving the impression he intended to rejoin the sword path for this meeting’s sake – not that Lan Xichen generally condoned lying. On the other, if even the task of securing a betrothal to Wangji – which Lan Xichen did believe he wanted – would not convince him to carry it, Wangji had been astute to suggest they stop trying.

Wangji knew he was intractable on the matter and wanted this marriage regardless. Lan Xichen would simply have to hope he was making the right decision for the long term.

Shufu kept his eyes on the document in front of him as they entered the residence, but Lan Xichen was not certain he was reading it. He rather seemed to carefully track their movements – Lan Xichen to the side, present primarily to offer visible support, and Wangji and Wei Wuxian to kneel in front of him, one beside the other. Shufu abandoned any pretense of reading, instead staring witheringly at one of them in particular.

“Generally my nephews do not set appointments to see me for casual matters,” Shufu said. “And generally my guests come by invitation.”

An invitation Wei Wuxian had certainly not received in the few days he had been at Cloud Recesses. This was primarily because Shufu had been informed he was recovering from an illness, but Shufu’s point – that Wei Wuxian was certainly not his guest – was difficult to miss.

Wei Wuxian took a visibly took a slow breath. “That’s because this is not a casual matter, Lan-xiansheng.” He clasped his hands and bowed pristinely. “Lan-xiansheng, this humble cultivator seeks a betrothal to your nephew, Lan Wangji.”

“On whose behalf?”

Wei Wuxian’s brows furrowed. Clearly he was not expecting to have been misunderstood. “My own, Xiansheng. I, Wei Wuxian, seek to take Lan Wangji as my husband.”

The silence that occupied the residence seemed to have an energy of its own, washing any potential sound away with the force of its current.

“Get out,” Shufu said, and it was painful to watch Wangji’s downcast face flinch. “The depth of your malintent. Get out.”

“No, Xiansheng,” Wei Wuxian said firmly, still bowed. “My inquiry is serious, and I would state my case.”

“Such inquiry could never be serious.” Shufu’s face quivered with his anger. “You will never wed Wangji. Get out.”

“My parents were Wei Changse, a lifelong friend and servant of Jiang Sect Leader Jiang Fengmian, and Cangse Sanren, a disciple of Baoshan Sanren,” Wei Wuxian recited, undeterred. “After their deaths, I was raised under the care of Jiang-zongzhu and Zi Zhizhu. I am the number one disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang sect, shixiong and right hand to Sect Leader Jiang Wanyin.” He paused, then forged onward. “I am the cultivator who subdued Wen Ruohan’s puppets at Nightless City. With Jiang Wanyin, I brought justice against Wen Chao and the Core-Melting Hand.”

“Are you also the phantom who used wild resentful energy to slaughter the entire complement at Yiling Supervisory Office and every Wen soldier you encountered on your path thereafter?”

“I am,” Wei Wuxian answered immediately, and a shiver ran down Lan Xichen’s spine at the cold light that settled in Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “I am the master of Chenqing and the Yin Tiger Amulet. If your nephew is at my side, he will never need to be afraid of anything.”

Shufu narrowed his eyes. “Except you.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, venomously slow. “Even if your nephew had his sword at my throat, he would never need to be afraid of me.”

Lan Xichen wondered if that was true. He believed Wei Wuxian believed it was, and prayed he was correct.

More urgently, the hostility in the air had grown as thick as fog. Lan Xichen tried to cut through it. “Undoubtedly Wei-gongzi is a talented and innovative cultivator, irrespective of his methods.”

“His use of resentful energy is a perversion of cultivation, and he is hazardous to everyone around him.”

“Xiongzhang and I would have been killed by Wen Ruohan’s puppets,” Wangji said softly – the first words he’d spoken. His hand landed on Wei Wuxian’s arm in restraint. “Sunshot would have ended in catastrophe.”

Shufu’s bearded mouth turned down, as if when chewing on that thought, he found it against his taste. “Perhaps. That does not mean I will ever allow you to marry him.”

“Shufu.”

“No.”

“Shufu, please. I will be able to help him.”

“No! Have you learned nothing of the lessons of your father’s mistakes? You cannot shield someone from the consequences of their actions!”

“Shufu, with every respect, I do not follow the same path. Please let me go out and stand with Wei Ying, so that we may live all our lives rightly together. To root out evil, help the weak, and live without shame or regrets.”

Wangji and Wei Wuxian knelt side-by-side, heads bowed; so severe, so earnest. Their feelings were true, and the circumstances were reasonably favorable. If it were any other person but Shufu, any other supplicant but Wei Wuxian, there would be little difficulty. As it was …

“Wangji, you will be better off without him,” Shufu intoned.

“Shufu,” Wangji said, so mournfully Lan Xichen had to close his eyes against it.

“Shufu,” he said, so suddenly it surprised even him. But he the next words came to his lips. “I am not so certain.”

He had not come here to argue against Shufu’s judgement. He had intended to let the water wear down the stone. But … but his brother was truly in love, and he truly loved his brother.

Through the silence, eventually that gruff voice came. “Wangji.”

“Shufu?”

“He is rude and irreverent, erratic and unconstrained. His mind crawls with wicked ideas, and his body is brimming with resentful energy. Is this what you wish to tie yourself to, now and forever, before all your ancestors?”

“Yes, shufu.”

“He is stained in the eyes of the cultivation world, through his own doing, and joined to him you might find your own reputation dragged through the same mud. You would have that?”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said quietly.

“Yes, shufu.”

“Among all the people of the world, you somehow prefer him? Do you not see that in time, you could come to prefer another?”

“Among all people, there is only one Wei Ying.”

Shufu let out a long, grumbling sigh. “Very well, then.”

Lan Xichen opened his eyes to look – and the wide shock on Wangji’s and Wei Wuxian’s faces matched his own enough that he couldn’t have been mistaken.

“If being deprived of marrying him would break your heart, Wangji, how could I rip this from you?”

“It would,” Wangji croaked.

“So it would seem,” Shufu said, not bothering to hide his distaste, “as my other nephew has not hesitated to point out.”

Lan Xichen wasn’t certain whether he ought to truly feel abashed, but Shufu managed it regardless.

“Wei Wuxian, for Wangji’s sake alone, I will allow him to be betrothed to you.”

“Shufu,” Wangji said fervently, clasping his hands and bowing. “Thank you.” Wei Wuxian did the same barely a heartbeat behind him.

“If he should come to harm in your care, there isn’t enough resentful energy in the world to shelter you.”

“Of course, of course, it will never come to that,” Wei Wuxian rattled off. “I will protect him and care for him, Xiansheng.”

“And I him,” Wangji vowed.

Shufu looked much less impassioned by that.

“With this agreement sorted out,” Lan Xichen interjected, still a little chagrinned, “we can go to Lotus Pier when the two of you are ready, to negotiate the betrothal with Jiang-zongzhu.”

“We should go tonight, or tomorrow,” Wangji said. Then, as if suddenly possessed by an idea, “We should pour the tea now, and bow at the ancestral shrine. So we will not have to return to Cloud Recesses after securing Jiang-zongzhu’s approval.”

Lan Xichen was obviously going to object, but Wei Wuxian did so even faster. “Lan Zhan, we can’t do that,” he said under his breath – though in the enclosed residence, it was audible to everyone. “This is a real wedding, your wedding, you shouldn’t … We should do it right. It should be good and nice.”

“It will be good for us to be married. The rest is irrelevant. There is no reason to delay.”

“Come on, Lan Zhan, how can we do the ceremony yet? I don’t even have a betrothal gift, or a spouse price.” Wei Wuxian sniffled. “Jiang Cheng … well, he’s going to be furious, but he’d be even more furious that way. Let’s wait, and I’ll convince him to make it nice. You’re worthy. It would be terrible to give them after the wedding’s half done.”

“Give me whatever you like. It doesn’t matter,” Wangji said.

Or perhaps, You gave me Suibian, did you not?

Lan Xichen wondered if that second meaning was a figment of his imagination – but Wei Wuxian’s eyes were shining brightly, so perhaps not. “Lan Zhan … What if he really refuses? What if it doesn’t work out? We’d be stuck half-married.”

“You would not be stuck – it will only be my ancestors before whom we have bowed, my family for whom we have poured tea. If negotiations dissolve it will only be I who is bound to you.”

Wangji’s voice calm and sure, but his meaning was wild with devotion. Lan Xichen didn’t know quite what to say – and exchanging a glance with Shufu, whose eyebrows had risen quite high, he appeared to feel the same way.

Wei Wuxian had covered his mouth with both hands, as if to physically contain whatever thought or emotion wanted to come out, and still he tipped over and spilled down a waterfall of tears. The formidable Wei Wuxian, master of Chenqing and the Yin Tiger Amulet, who had cast a terrifying shadow a mere minute before, disintegrated into emotion – his thin shell splintering to reveal a ravaged terrain underneath. “Lan Zhan. You’re really too much to bear.”

He shuffled around on his knees and bowed all the way to the floor facing Wangji.

Wangji moved instantly, urgently tugging him upright. He held Wei Wuxian by both arms, and Wei Wuxian reflexively mirrored him. Wangji stared firmly into his eyes. “Wei Ying. We will do this together.”

Wei Wuxian was entirely in pieces, trembling, tears dripping down his face. He nodded, and he clung to Wangji so tightly his hands disappeared in his bunched robes.

Shufu was looking at Lan Xichen, brows furrowed, but he said nothing. He was deferring to Lan Xichen to make this judgement. Shufu did not, after all, know the details behind Wei Wuxian’s coming to Cloud Recesses in the first place.

Lan Xichen knew there were layers to this situation beyond his reach, but he understood Wangji was saving Wei Wuxian’s life with this marriage. To hold Wangji’s portion of the ceremony without having solidified the betrothal was very irregular and might give insult to Jiang-zongzhu – but considering the circumstances, he would allow it if they felt it necessary. “I urge you to consider carefully the feelings of Wei-gongzi’s family, and the importance of cherishing this event in both your lives – but if you are determined, we can hold a ceremony this evening.”

“We can call for tea now,” Wangji said stubbornly.

“Wangji, with a few hours we can at least find you both something to wear. You will have an opportunity to prepare your mind, and so will we.”

“Lan Zhan, it’s all right, this evening is more than all right,” Wei Wuxian urged. “Don’t rush your family, really, it’s already bad enough.”

“Indeed,” Shufu said, causing all three of them to tense. “I was expecting you would have several months to reconsider this madness. At least let me retain hope until nightfall.”

Wangji looked nearly petulant, but Wei Wuxian actually laughed – a short, startled sound. Lan Xichen smiled despite himself. “Remember, Wangji, this is Wei-gongzi’s wedding as well as yours. Allow us make it as beautiful as we can in the time available.”

That, unsurprisingly, was what convinced Wangji to relent.

///

It was beyond unorthodox for the two betrothed to help one another prepare, but Lan Wangji savored doing so.

When they got back to the jingshi after the meeting with Shufu, Wei Ying seemed weary and strung tight, so Lan Wangji said, “Let's sleep.” In this way he got Wei Ying to rest for an hour within the circle of his arms. He woke him by gliding his thumb over the skin of his cheek.

After that, Xichen came with an assortment of clothes that were all reasonably suitable to choose from, and a message. “Shufu would like some time alone with you, Wangji.”

This was probably not unreasonable, considering Lan Wangji was going to get married and leave Cloud Recesses. Shufu had raised Lan Wangji, so even though he suspected it would be an attempt to dissuade him, he went.

He was pleasantly surprised. Shufu did not in any seriousness try to convince him to abandon his marriage to Wei Ying. Instead, he lectured and read passages, giving Lan Wangji one final lesson. He told him about patience and honor, and duty, and trust, and unsurprisingly about what is right and wrong, and surprisingly about love. Lan Wangji listened to understand his wisdom, and to receive the care contained in his providing it.

It was not long – maybe three quarters of an hour. Lan Wangji left the residence feeling prepared, and anticipatory, and at peace.

In the jingshi, Wei Ying was at the desk scowling intently at a sheet of paper covered in unorganized crossed-out notes. He looked up when Lan Wangji entered, and after a moment his face smoothed. He lay the brush aside and folded the paper over, certainly smudging any ink that might not yet have been dry.

“You can finish your work,” Lan Wangji told him.

Wei Ying shook his head, taking the paper with him and crossing the jingshi. “I was trying to write something, but I think … it’s not necessary.” He tucked the paper into his robe, and his gaze drifted over to the mound of red fabric on the bed.

“Did you find something you liked?” Lan Wangji asked. He still had to select something himself.

“I thought … since they aren’t personal anyway, maybe we want to match.”

There were two loose wide-sleeved robes laid to one side, crisp red silk with the thinnest glimmering gold embroidery. Lan Wangji felt a smile pull at his lips and Wei Ying’s fingerprints dance over the back of his shoulder blade. “Yes.” He would have done what Wei Ying wanted regardless, but he liked what he’d designed.

They dressed one other, beginning with simple white fitted robes. Lan Wangji’s clothes fit Wei Ying well enough for this purpose, since there would be another layer on the outside. Lan Wangji closed the robe around Wei Ying’s torso and tied the stays, fingers pressed right up against the solid heat of his body. Wei Ying mirrored this procedure. Then they fixed one another’s hair. Lan Wangji combed until Wei Ying’s hair was as soft as silk itself, and then pulled it up and into a gold circular hairpiece. When it was his turn, he lost himself in the steady ministrations of Wei Ying’s hands, until Wei Ying was finished and Lan Wangji’s hair was adorned with arcing gold spires.

They ate dinner – or at least, Lan Wangji made an attempt. He wanted something, to be sure, but it was different and it would be his very soon – just a few short hours and a single pot of tea, one journey to Yunmeng, one conversation with Jiang Wanyin. Maybe a day or so after. What need did he have for food, in the face of that? He forced himself to take bites regardless. He had to maintain his strength.

Wei Ying devoured his meal, and then he had to step outside into the blue dusk to retch.

Lan Wangji soothed his hair back, put supportive hands on his waist and under his arm. He was trembling from it, and still too thin, and his eyes were red and bruised from crying and now this. It hit Lan Wangji very fiercely that he didn’t have the warm golden suspension that ran through his own veins. Wei Ying had already been tired and unwell, and Lan Wangji had already demanded several things of him that day. “Are you ill? We can delay.”

“No!” Wei Ying gripped Lan Wangji’s arm with ferocious strength. Ill or well, Wei Ying would keep fighting on any battlefield until his body gave out beneath him. Wei Ying’s other hand traced the line of his collar, brushed his lip, hovered to his headpiece. “No. Not unless you want to wait. If you want more time to think, or …”

“No.”

“Then no. I’m just nervous. Anxious, I mean, excited. I’m about to marry Hanguang Jun, Lan Wangji, Lan Zhan. Who wouldn’t be?”

Lan Wangji didn’t answer him. The question was rhetorical. Only Wei Ying would ever know. He held him for a moment, slid his arms around the back of his waist to support him and press them together. Wei Ying’s face was tired, but he seemed soft and happy. “It will not take long,” Lan Wangji promised him. “Then we will rest.”

They went back inside. Wei Ying cleaned his mouth and teeth with fennel powder, and ate some orange slices to give himself a pleasant taste. He playfully demanded to feed several to Lan Wangji as well – “after all, we’re trying to match” – and Lan Wangji was emboldened by the knowledge Wei Ying was going to marry him, so instead of ignoring him, which was all he had ever known how to do, he knelt beside him and parted his lips obediently. Wei Ying’s eyes were wide and dark, and there was a rosy flush to his cheeks that had nothing to do with fever or illness when he placed the sweet fruit in Lan Wangji’s mouth.

The acid tingling of the juice spread much farther through Lan Wangji’s body than it should have from just the touch of it on his tongue.

It was nearly time, though. They had to finish their preparations.

Lan Wangji took one of the red robes off the bed. It was light – the silk would fall elegantly. Wei Ying turned his back, and Lan Wangji draped it over his shoulders. Wei Ying turned, lifting one hand to pull his hair out from beneath the robe, and suddenly, between the golden hairpiece and the crimson robe and the light in Wei Ying’s eyes, he looked like he was getting married. He looked like they were getting married.

Lan Wangji grasped Wei Ying by the arms. He felt … something, and he needed … something more.

“Wait, wait, Lan Zhan, let me get you in yours first,” Wei Ying said softly. “It’s not fair otherwise.”

Lan Wangji, very reluctantly, had to admit that was true.

He allowed Wei Ying to pull the robe over his shoulders, and then to carefully smooth and straighten the parallel lines of it down his chest. Lan Wangji used the opportunity to look at him. Wei Ying made a stunning groom in their improvised clothes. He would have in rags. Lan Wangji would never allow that, would face blades and arrows to prevent it.

“Don’t worry, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, running his hands down his arms, cupping his hands up beneath his jaw. “Jiang Cheng will say yes – I will do whatever it takes to convince him. You will come to Lotus Pier and have a home there, and I will take very good care of you as my husband.” His fingers tightened behind Lan Wangji’s neck, as if to reinforce the oath. “I don’t have quite as much money as the very illustrious Lan sect … in fact, I don’t really have any money of my own … but …”

Lan Wangji had somewhat forgotten he was the one marrying into Wei Ying’s household. “My brother will pay a generous dowry,” he assured him. “And he will continue to give me anything we need.”

“Ah, so will my brother!” Wei Ying objected. “Well, somewhat. And he will certainly be less pleasant about it …”

“I am not concerned,” Lan Wangji said. As long as he was at Wei Ying’s side, further luxuries were optional.

“But I have to keep you in fine robes, Lan Zhan. Rest assured, the Second Jade of Lan will still glow under my keeping.”

Lan Wangji had no doubt of that.

Wei Ying wrapped his arms around Lan Wangji beneath the red outer robe. In this way, pulled close, he brushed a ghost-light kiss to the corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth. He’d pulled away before Lan Wangji could turn to return it. “I will also protect you, like I told your uncle. I will have to cause a little less trouble with the other cultivators, I suppose, and I will let you handle the regular things with your sword. But if anyone should really try to harm you …” A little of that menacing light gleamed in Wei Ying’s eye. “I will not let it stand. You know that, don’t you, Lan Zhan?”

He did, and it was torturous. Lan Wangji did not ever want Wei Ying to hurt himself on his behalf. But it would be hypocritical, he supposed, to try to deny him, when he himself would do the same. Additionally, as a purely academic thought, Wei Ying commanding his dark, wild power for Lan Wangji was not – strictly – unappealing. “Only when truly necessary,” Lan Wangji said. He wondered if Wei Ying knew it was a plea. “Only when there is no other choice.”

“Lan Zhan, I will let you play your guqin for me all night long afterward,” Wei Ying replied, which was not even remotely a direct agreement – but his voice was teasing, and they would be married any minute, any second, so Lan Wangji let it go. He would have a lifetime to prevail in this quarrel. He was about to make the vows to ensure it. Even if Jiang Wanyin refused them, even if the world ended that very night, they could never be wholly unconnected from one another. Lan Wangji would be Wei Ying’s.

There was sound at the door – Xichen had appeared. He wore a formal dark blue robe and there was a smile on his face as he regarded them. “You both look very fine. I’ll be back for you in just a few minutes, Wei-gongzi. Wangji, are you ready?”

He was.

Xichen led him to the hanshi. The doorway had been draped in crimson, as had the perimeter of the central room. Candles burned along the walls. Shufu was there, seated behind the table, dressed in rich misty brocade, a more elaborate garment than Lan Wangji had seen him wear since he’d handed responsibility for inter-sect affairs to Xichen. The table held a beautiful tea set – deep azure porcelain with a pale blue design and silver gilding. Suitable for Yunmeng Jiang and Gusu Lan, for Wei Ying and Lan Wangji. Suitable to form part of Lan Wangji’s dowry. It was perfect. He couldn’t imagine how Xichen had found it at such short notice.

“Wangji,” Xichen said, making him look up, and Xichen had a red ribbon embroidered with gold clouds suspended in his hands.

Lan Wangji reached up and removed his powder blue one. He held still as Xichen tied the red one around his forehead. It had been years since he had needed help to don his ribbon. It was a strange feeling to have someone else do it now, one that lodged him firmly in this moment.

It was done. A servant brought in hot water, lit the candle beneath it, and departed. “Shall I go get him, Wangji?” Xichen asked. “Or would you like a moment?”

Lan Wangji’s heart flew erratic in his chest. “Go on.”

It felt as though Lan Wangji had no time at all before Xichen returned. He came in alone and took his seat beside Shufu, behind the table Lan Wangji knelt in front of. Then Wei Ying appeared in the doorway.

There followed a century in which Lan Wangji beheld him. Framed by the night garden, red garlands, and candlelight, he looked fine indeed – a brilliant flash of white between rich and auspicious red and gold, tall and elegant, hair fine, hairpiece gleaming. He was here for Lan Wangji. He stepped across the threshold into the hanshi.

“Stop,” Shufu said.

Wei Ying stopped short. Lan Wangji turned to Shufu in betrayal.

Shufu cleared his throat. “Wei Wuxian. Are spirits, demons, ghosts, and monsters the same thing?”

It took Lan Wangji a too-long moment to understand. This was the challenge his family would throw up for Wei Ying, which he had to overcome to reach Lan Wangji. A simple question even a junior disciple could answer. He looked back to Wei Ying, who was smiling. “No. Spirits are formed from living non-human beings. Monsters are formed from dead non-human beings. Ghosts are formed from dead humans.” A wry thread touched his voice. “Demons are formed from living humans.”

“Very good,” Shufu said gruffly. As the silence stretched, Wei Ying took another step forward. “Stop,” Shufu commanded again. “What is the order of measures of cultivation?”

Wei Ying let out a breathy laugh. “There are a number of methods. First, liberation. Second, suppression. Third, elimination.” He paused. “I think sometimes of a fourth method, but I will not bother you with it this evening, Xiansheng.”

Lan Wangji could not help but look at Shufu. There was a small tic in his brow, but he could have expected nothing else, asking that question. After a moment, he pronounced, “Very good.”

Wei Ying advanced one more step.

“Stop.” Shufu raised both eyebrows. “What is the thirteenth Lan principle?”

Wei Ying’s grin widened, sharpened, hardened. “Don’t practice crooked ways.”

Shufu stared at Wei Ying and said nothing. Wei Ying stared at Shufu and said nothing further. Eventually, Shufu jerked his chin upward, and Wei Ying advanced the last few steps and took his place at the table.

Lan Wangji exchanged a harried glance with Xichen. Shufu might easily have been more intransigent, Wei Ying more combative. He wondered why Shufu had brought up Wei Ying’s cultivation style again if he didn’t mean to pursue it. Perhaps he was just making clear his enduring disapproval.

Perhaps the challenge was tolerating his open disdain.

The ceremony did not take long. Wei Ying took the red ribbon from Lan Wangji’s forehead and wound the ends around their wrists. Bound together, they prepared the tea. Wei Ying poured the first cup and offered it to Shufu. “Shugong, please accept this from me.”

Shufu looked briefly to the heavens when Wei Ying referred to him as family, and for one final moment Lan Wangji’s breath stilled – but Shufu grimly acknowledged, “Zhixu,” and accepted the cup. Xichen answered Wei Ying’s appeal with a warm ‘Dixu’, and they exchanged bright smiles.

Lan Wangji’s heart could not have been fuller. He was not properly meant to cry until they departed Cloud Recesses, so he restrained himself, but it was difficult. He poured tea for his family with steady hands.

In truth, they would not be finished until they were wed within the Jiang sect, but for the time being it was enough. After they went to the Lan family shrine and bowed side-by-side before Lan Wangji’s ancestors, Lan Wangji took Wei Ying back to the jingshi and lay him down to rest, just as he’d promised. He gathered Wei Ying to him back to front, so they were pressed together along every inch. Wei Ying laced the fingers of both their hands tight. Lan Wangji tugged him a little bit closer.

Wei Ying slept quickly once he was free to let his exhaustion claim him. Lan Wangji intended to plan his petition to Jiang Wanyin, but he must have been weary himself, because before too long he fell unconscious alongside him.

part four

#cql #mdzs #the untamed #wangxian #fanfiction #wangxian shotgun wedding is a sappy plot decision I have no justification for #except lxc is relying on lwj to make a reasonable and well-behaved call and lwj is impaired by love #he wants to be married to wei ying yesterday #so he’ll settle for now #for the double entendre with suibian as the betrothal gift #this is an english fic of a fantasy-chinese setting so please just close your eyes and assume with me #that it’s possible to construct a sentence in fantasy-chinese that could carry either one of those meanings #since suibian means ‘whatever you want/it doesn’t matter’#in real life would this actually be even remotely plausible or subtle? I don’t know #for the relative words i'm trying to take direction from other esteemed fic writers where possible #but my needs are a little specific and I'm also obviously not responsible enough to be left alone with pleco unsupervised #everything else from the wedding and betrothal stuff to the dental hygiene is a hodgepodge #of things I’ve read in fics + facts from like page 1 of google + my own fabrication #aka likely to be either highly simplistic or flat out made up #so please forgive my language-and-culture sins and know that I have no idea what I’m talking about #yes them getting even half-hitched without asking jc first is as terrible an idea as it sounds #lxc obviously bought that tea set years ago #lxc #lqr #my fic

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

Do you think the 3zun dynamics would change veryuchf they were age swapped? If NMJ were the youngest, or LXC the oldest, or even JGY as oldest? not a prompt, just warning your thoughts!

on ao3

Meng Yao went to Qinghe on Lan Xichen’s recommendation.

He’d never quite given up hope of finding his way even after his father’s rejection, and while Lan Xichen was kind and generous and everything Meng Yao had ever dared dream a cultivator could be, the older man was on the run, his sect burned, his family stolen – he was in no position to help him at the time.

Meng Yao had expected the leader of the Nie sect, who was reputed to be a righteous man, just and uncaring of status, to be much the same. Fiercer, of course; who had not heard about the tempestuous tempers of the Nie sect? But he’d expected something of that same ageless dignity, the way the two years that Lan Xichen had on him might as well have been a hundred years, that same feeling of distant awe as if looking up at a deity far above him –

He was not expecting Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue, the youngest of the sect leaders of the Great Sects, who had prematurely inherited his sect after his father’s death and who’d run it with an iron fist ever since –

Nie Mingjue, who raised his younger brother like a father and lead his sect like a general –

Nie Mingjue, whose fighting skills were already renowned, whose people adored him, who stood against the world with no thought of anything but justice and revenge –

Nie Mingjue, who was a teenager.

“I’m almost twenty,” Nie Mingjue said with huff when he blurted it out, all his ideas about convincing the man to take pity on him – Lan Xichen had let slip that Nie Mingjue had a fondness for the underdog – going out the window at once. “And when I am, I will celebrate no one ever saying that again. Come on, get up; who forced you to stay out here? I’ll have words with them.”

More than mere words, he brought his saber up in Meng Yao’s defense, and it wasn’t long thereafter that Meng Yao secured his position as the man’s deputy.

“More like babysitter,” Nie Huaisang teased, and didn’t protest when his brother shoved him out of his chair without even looking up. “He never had one when he was younger, you understand – probably why he never learned how to take care of himself. He was only twelve when he took the position of sect leader, you know, and he hasn’t grown up one tiny bit since.”

“Huaisang! Shut up!”

Twelve, Meng Yao mouthed to himself. When he was twelve, he’d still been marking time at the brothel, doing odd jobs for a miniscule wage – he was barely entrusted with serving drinks. The only thing he’d been in charge of had been a few scrappy street kids that were awed by anyone who slept indoors; he couldn’t even imagine having to run a sect, much less as ancient and powerful a one as the Nie sect.

“You can ignore anything my brother says,” Nie Mingjue told him. His cheeks were darker than usual – was he blushing? “Consider than an official order.”

Meng Yao had had plans for what he’d do if he ever managed to get in closer to a sect leader. He’d thought it over in those years since the fiasco at Lanling, brimming as he was with resentment – it was all mapped out: how he would flatter them with respect and awe, how he would learn their weaknesses and cater to them, how he would make himself indispensable to them without ever allowing them to realize that he thought of himself as more than the dirt beneath their feet.

Such a plan, in the face of Nie Mingjue, was useless.

“You are going to go to sleep right now, Sect Leader” Meng Yao announced, dowsing the candles in the main office one by one.

“You can’t order me a- a-” Nie Mingjue’s complaint was interrupted by a yawn. “- around.”

“There’s no point in you staying up and wasting paper that you’ll only have to fix tomorrow, Sect Leader Nie,” Meng Yao said with a gentle smile, “when you can instead go to sleep, get a good rest, and actually write something coherent in the morning.”

“M’not tired.”

You’re a liar is what you are, Meng Yao thought, unable to keep the fondness out of the thought.

“Whatever you say, Sect Leader Nie,” he said in his sweetest tones, the ones that implied but did not say that he was indulging a small infant.

Nie Mingjue grumbled and glared, but he did put down the papers, which had in fact become totally incoherent splashes of ink as he desperately tried to fight back the tsunami of paperwork necessary for a sect leader to complete – Meng Yao had offered several times to find him more secretaries, and Nie Mingjue always refused; after interviewing the first few applicants behind his sect leader’s back, Meng Yao realized that was such a well-known path to corruption that even he’d been forced to give up on it.

He reached out and idly tugged on Meng Yao’s sleeve. “You have to help me with it tomorrow.”

“Don’t I help you with it every day?” Meng Yao replied, putting his hands on Nie Mingjue’s shoulders – for all that he was little more than a child to Meng Yao’s eyes, Nie Mingjue was tall, excessively so, and Meng Yao suspected he might possibly still be growing, somehow – to walk him over to the bed. “If you mean that I should do it and read out questions while you train your saber, the answer is no, Sect Leader Nie. You don’t focus enough on what you’re deciding when we do that.”

“But Meng Yao –”

“If you make me sit outside in the midsummer sun for a full shichen just because you’d rather be doing anything but read about Wen Ruohan’s latest atrocity, I may have no choice but to quit.”

Meng Yao had never expected to ever say such a thing to someone in a position above him. He’d never expected that it would work.

“Don’t quit,” Nie Mingjue said at once, allowing Meng Yao to pull his clothing off to prepare him for sleep. For all his height and power, Nie Mingjue had an earnest personality that was exactly like one of the street kids Meng Yao had bossed around all those years ago, and somehow he’d found himself falling into precisely the same patterns. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Your work, probably,” Meng Yao muttered under his breath but still unintentionally audible, wincing the second the too-sharp words passed through his lips, but as always when he slipped up Nie Mingjue looked delighted rather than scandalized.

“But I get so much more of it done when you’re around,” Nie Mingjue protested with a laugh, reaching up to start undoing his hair. With anyone else, Meng Yao would have thought it was an invitation to stay longer, to perform other services, but no matter how often Nie Mingjue’s eyes trailed after him or how stunned he looked on the rare instances Meng Yao had reason to wear formal robes, he would never ask and, if Meng Yao offered, invariably and firmly refuse. “Go to bed yourself, Meng Yao, and that’s an order. Don’t worry about me – I’ll be good.”

Meng Yao averted his eyes and smiled.

Meng Yao didn’t especially regret killing the Jin sect captain.

The man had been an ass, rude and overbearing and incompetent; he had stolen Meng Yao’s achievements for his own, not giving him any room to climb up through the ranks by his own merit the way he had in the Nie sect – not even citing his name in any of the reports, erasing everything he’d done from the record as if he was nothing, and when confronted, claimed it was because he was nothing, deserved nothing. He’d laughed at Meng Yao for daring to think that he could ever be worth anything, for forgetting who his mother was, what his mother was.

Meng Yao had never been inclined to forgive such slights – the opportunity had arisen, the two of them alone in the remnants of the battlefield, and he had taken it without a second thought.

He did not regret his death.

But he did regret the expression on Nie Mingjue’s face when he saw him do it, the confusion and devastation in his eyes. Meng Yao had turned at his shout to see him, and perhaps it was his youth that made Nie Mingjue unable to fully hide his feelings away from one who knew him well, or perhaps it was simply not in his character – Meng Yao had seen it all.

Meng Yao wished he’d turned around a little slower.

Maybe if he’d been slower, he would have only see the anger and not the hurt; the rage, the blame, and not the trust shattering, naivete broken as if Nie Mingjue were seeing death for the first time, as if he were not the blood-soaked Chifeng-zun with a thousand lives lost to his blade.

The guilt, as Nie Mingjue blamed himself for having sent Meng Yao here –

The worry, as he began to wonder what else Meng Yao was capable of doing, what he might have already done while at the Nie sect –

The shame, at not having realized what Meng Yao was like.

Meng Yao’s excuses came slowly to his mouth, his silver tongue failing him, and anyway Nie Mingjue couldn’t quite decide if he was shouting at him to explain or telling him to shut up – his excuses were only making it worse, and Meng Yao knew that, he knew Nie Mingjue didn’t understand how words could hurt or the importance of glory (except he did, he who was called a child, inexperienced, naïve, and because of that his thoughts were overruled and ignored unless he fought for them), he knew Nie Mingjue wouldn’t kill someone over his personal hurt (even he should have, Meng Yao had wanted a thousand times to silence those self-important elders of the Nie sect, those condescending little sect leaders), he knew that Nie Mingjue had only ever wanted to do the right thing just because it was right.

He knew that the world had disappointed Nie Mingjue time and time again, and this time it was his turn.

Meng Yao did not regret the Jin captain’s death.

But if he could do it again, he might have let him live.

It was something to think about during his time at the Nightless City, as atrocities flowed easily from his hand and he won yet another sect leader’s admiration and trust, for it was only ever his father that refused to even let him try. The Wen sect was more like what he’d imagine the Great Sects to be, full of back-biting and scheming and everyone out for their own gain, and those games he knew how to play.

“I want that bastard’s head,” Wen Ruohan raged.

You, want someone dead? What a surprise, Meng Yao thought but did not say. Nie Mingjue would have liked him to say it; Wen Ruohan would have him whipped or worse if he did.

“Whose head, Sect Leader Wen?” he asked politely. The number of people that Wen Ruohan wanted dead was as countless as the grains of sand on a beach. “You need only say the word, and I will see what can be done.”

Often, nothing. They were at war, after all.

“That overgrown infant, Nie Mingjue,” Wen Ruohan said with a sneer. “Arrogant little demon; he was always too clever by half, even back when he became sect leader at the age of ten –”

“Twelve,” Meng Yao automatically corrected, then winced; crossing Wen Ruohan was a good way to get into trouble from which there was no escape, and he knew better.

Luckily, for all his anger Wen Ruohan was in a good mood, and he only gave a bark of laughter. “I keep forgetting that you weren’t raised a cultivator,” he said, rolling his eyes. “The Nie sect habitually lie about their ages, some old superstition or some nonsense like that, and it’s usually revised up. Perhaps they think they need to get living sooner than everyone else, what with those qi deviations of theirs. Pity they takes so long to get to – I’d like to see him bleeding his life away.”

The thought of Nie Mingjue bleeding from the qiqiao, his eyes bloodshot his nose running his mouth choking on thick black blood, was not one that Meng Yao much liked.

He got to see it anyway.

It was his own plan that did the trick: he knew how much Nie Mingjue trusted Lan Xichen, who he saw as almost an older brother; he knew, in turn, that Lan Xichen trusted him. It was not difficult to lead Nie Mingjue into a trap from which he could not escape.

Meng Yao should have learned from Langya that he would not enjoy the sight of Nie Mingjue humbled and humiliated, Nie Mingjue on his knees, Nie Mingjue have been beaten black and blue, dripping with blood, and still not bending – anyone else, and he would have been pleased.

Anyone else, except perhaps Lan Xichen, who was untouchable.

Perhaps he would have enjoyed it if Nie Mingjue were just a bit older – usually revised up, he thought, and wondered if he’d been right about Nie Mingjue still growing – if he’d been settled in his own skin, confident and self-assured and righteous in a way Meng Yao knew he’d never be, if he was as high above him as Lan Xichen but less worthy, but he wasn’t and he didn’t: he only saw the way Nie Mingjue’s eyes were wide and hurt upon seeing him, even though he should have known better after Meng Yao’s earlier betrayal, should have expected something like this.

Children never understood why people hurt them. Meng Yao hadn’t, when it’d been him.

Knowing what he knew, Meng Yao did not expect forgiveness when he struck Wen Ruohan down before he could end Nie Mingjue’s life.

He did not receive it.

“I think we should become sworn brothers,” Lan Xichen said, and the proposal so perfectly suited Meng Yao’s ambitions in Lanling – Jin Guangyao’s ambitions – that for a moment he wondered how he had managed to manipulate Lan Xichen into doing it without having realized he was doing it. “The three of us.”

“Three of us?” Jin Guangyao asked, because surely he didn’t mean –

“You, me, and Nie Mingjue,” Lan Xichen clarified. He smiled, graceful as an immortal descended from the heavens. “I would be happy to see the two of you friends again, as it was before.”

It will never be as it was before, Jin Guangyao thought. Nie Mingjue had barely refrained from killing him, turning away only at Lan Xichen’s urging; he had returned to the battlefield and cleaned up the rest of the war, and not once in that entire time had he said a word to Jin Guangyao. No letter, which he’d expected, but not even in the few times since when they’d met in person.

Not even at the banquet when Jin Guangyao was recognized officially by his father, and took on a new name, a new title.

It was about what Jin Guangyao had expected. He’d learned long ago in the brothel that even the most foolish child would learn to shy away from you if you hit them enough – if he sometimes missed the feeling of being able to speak his mind freely, recalled Nie Mingjue’s badly hidden glee at having elicited a real reaction from his unflappable deputy, was wistful for the days of being in a sect where the Sect Leader listened to him and let him shine, well, that was on his own head.

Just one more thing he’d sacrificed, never to be recovered.

He didn’t say that. He only smiled and said, “You know I hold both you and Sect Leader Nie in the highest esteem; I would be honored. But as to whether Sect Leader Nie would agree…”

“He already has,” Lan Xichen said, and Jin Guangyao was truly shocked. “We can do the ceremony at the end of the week, if it suits you.”

“Of course,” Jin Guangyao said. He went to try to find Nie Mingjue himself, but the wall of hostility that surrounded the Nie sect, which he had found amusing when he was on the inside, now worked to repel him: the guards refused to let him pass, the new deputy aide told him that the sect leader was too busy to accept guests, the disciples refused to pass on letters, and even Nie Huaisang could not be found.

Even at dinner, Nie Mingjue did not meet his eyes once; it was as if nothing had changed.

Why would he agree? Jin Guangyao wondered. What did Lan Xichen tell him to make him agree?

In his heart, Lan Xichen was as untouchable as the moonlight, and yet for the first time Jin Guangyao felt the slightest hint of dissatisfaction – no, perhaps it was better said that it was Meng Yao who was dissatisfied, Meng Yao who had seen the fate of all those foolish children on the streets that were led into the abyss because they trusted too much. He knew himself to be the very same abyss: his words were as pretty and poisonous as any pimp’s, his motives as murky and foul, and Nie Mingjue had seen it.

Why agree?

When the ceremony was completed, they were congratulated and called the Venerated Triad, and in the evening they shared some wine – Lan Xichen’s idea, and a stupid one, since the next shichen was spent chasing their new da-ge around in an effort to convince him to stop climbing things or at minimum not to fall.

When at last it was late enough in the evening for the Lan sect’s strict discipline to kick in, and Lan Xichen safely stored away in his bed, Jin Guangyao gave a sigh of relief and turned to go.

A tug at his sleeve stopped him, and he turned to look at Nie Mingjue, who was frowning.

They were alone together, at last, and Jin Guangyao had a thousand questions and more, but he restrained himself and asked only, “What is it?”

He refrained from adding the ‘Sect Leader Nie’ that rose to his lips out of habit; he did not know if it was still appropriate.

“We’re sworn brothers now,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao could not read the expression in his eyes. “Given our ages, that makes you my older brother.”

“It does,” Jin Guangyao agreed.

“Since you’re my elder, that means I have to listen to you,” Nie Mingjue continued. “To be filial and obedient, as well as respectful.”

Jin Guangyao had not thought of it that way, but it was true: he was indeed the elder, and with their oath binding them, could expect such things to be due to him without having to concern himself with the differences in their rank.

“And in return you have to guide me and take care of me, to be concerned with my conduct and well-being; isn’t that right?”

Jin Guangyao nodded.

Nie Mingjue’s expression, which had been wary, firmed. “Good,” he said, and tugged on his sleeve again, an emphasis Jin Guangyao did not quite understand. “Mark your words. I entrust myself to you, er-ge; you can scold me as much as you like, but you have to model good behavior for me…”

He hesitated, then burst out: “No more killing, okay? No matter what, no killing anyone until you’ve learned to tell good from bad - if they anger you, you tell me and I’ll beat them up, but don’t you dare do it yourself! You hear me?”

Jin Guangyao’s eyes were as wide as saucers and a smile he had not had to force was on his lips. “You’re selling yourself and helping me count the money,” he told the foolish child, who scowled and glared at him. “I don’t deserve to hold something so valuable in my hands.”

Nie Mingjue huffed. “Maybe if you thought less about what you should deserve and more about your duty to what you already have, you’d have fewer problems,” he said tartly, Nie Huaisang’s da-ge shining through for a moment. “You’ve already sworn with me; it’s too late to take the deal back.”

No wonder he’d refused to speak to him before: Nie Mingjue had too many feelings and was too bad at hiding them – he would never be able to hide his intentions if they had had time to speak, and he had clearly been determined to lure him into this trap no matter what.

As if he thought Jin Guangyao would refuse.

“No more killing,” he promised, already aware that such a vow would be an impediment in his plans and not quite managing to care. The steel of Qinghe shone cleaner than all the gold in Lanling; he would not throw away a treasure a second time. “You have my word.”

“And you consult with us about your troubles,” Nie Mingjue added, seeing he’d won an inch and trying to get a mile. “You can be good, Meng Yao; you only forget sometimes, when there’s something you want more – you can trust Xichen-ge, at least, even if you don’t want to come to me, but don’t go alone anymore.”

“Because I can’t be trusted?”

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes at him. “Because you’re ours,” he growled, a little tiger cub flashing its milk teeth, and he wasn’t talking about Lan Xichen. “You’re ours and we’re yours, and it’s about time you started acting like it!”

“All right,” Jin Guangyao said, feeling indulgent again. “Be good, A-Jue, or else I’ll think you think you’re the elder, not the younger.”

Nie Mingjue flushed red and ducked his head to hide it – it might have worked, too, if he wasn’t so tall or Jin Guangyao so short; he could see the embarrassment on his face at once.

A bit exaggerated a reaction to such mild scolding.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Nie Mingjue’s voice stuttered a little, which Jin Guangyao hadn’t even known was possible – how delightful. “No one’s ever called me that, that’s all.”

Moved by an unspeakable impulse, Jin Guangyao reached up and touched Nie Mingjue’s head, and was delighted to find that his hair was as soft as he’d always suspected it would be.

“Well, you don’t have a choice but to bear it,” he said, happy without even a trace of resentment in his heart. “I’m the older brother, remember? You made the deal; you can’t back out of it now.”

Nie Mingjue smiled at him, his eyes curved up, and then abruptly the smile faded.

Jin Guangyao’s heart, always wary, recoiled at once: “What’s the matter? Do you regret…?”

“Oh, no, not at all! And anyway it’s not you! It’s…our da-ge is climbing out the window behind you.”

“Oh no!”

Learning to trust would take some time, but Jin Guangyao felt confident that he’d figure it out eventually.

He always did.

#mdzs #jin guangyao #meng yao #nie mingjue #lan xichen #3zun #my fic #my fics #age swap #a matter of age #chuplayswithfire

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