#this is my first time drawing yao and he came out better then i thought yay

[kitratre]

I am begging u to draw AmeChu, there needs to be more Yao love in this fandom

Cooking together is a love language.

[wangxianslillotus]

Au where Wei WuXian doesn't go to Nightless city after Wen Qing, Wen Ning and the remaining Wens. Instead he runs away with A-Yuan and the granny. They stay hidden for years in a humble house in between a forest and a river at the border of Qinghe Nie and LanLing, away from Yiling.

Wei Ying tries to stay away from the towns after hearing about the burial mounds being attacked, of course that there would be those who search for the stigean seal, "That Yiling laozu, he disappeared in the night! Who knows when he's going to appear again to cause more trouble!!" He hears, "He's preparing to take revenge, he hasn't learned from the last time!!" . But he doesn't want revenge, he just wants to raise A-Yuan. After that, he knows that he has to hide, and ends up avoiding all contact and interactions with the world, but he remains doing his research in demonic cultivation, enough to train and develope new things that they will need for protection, but never enough for it to attract any attention.

Granny passes away after taking care of her boys, and when they find themselves in the winter out of provisions such as food and others, Wei WuXian makes his trip to the market for the first time in almost seven years. He wears a disguise, but he can never be completely sure that they are safe. Of course, he takes his son along, because he can't leave him alone. He's never sure.

A-Yuan has come with granny before, he knows the people in town, and they pretty much adore him just as the people loved Wei WuXian at the old pier market. Wei WuXian watches him and lets him lead the little trip to town with a bright smile. They buy the necessary things for a couple of cold months, and go back home at night. But as they are leaving, they catch a glimpse of gold robes in one of the streets. Wei WuXian drags A-Yuan to a dark alley to hide, until the cultivators of LanLing pass by without noticing them. After that, they don't go to the town anymore for a while.

A-Yuan doesn't ask, he never does, he respects that his father has a very mysterious past that he wants to hide, to forget if possible, and that if something happens, he will have to run away with the stigean seal. He knows that, but being aware of the pain that crosses his father's eyes is hard. But he doesn't ask even when Wei WuXian starts to train him to be a cultivator, not just for fun anymore.

He developed a golden core very young, but never used it for anything more than some night hunts at the near forest and protection. Now, they are preparing just in case those golden robed people got closer, he knows that much.

He practices archery, calligraphy too ("A-Yuan, even if dad can't write like he draws, you should do it properly. Maybe I can't make it look good, but I know how it should look.") and his father lends him his sword from time to time, for him to learn how to transfer energy on the blade, how to fly, and how to retrieve it if he sent it flying for attack. Suibian accepts him, almost knowing that he's his owner's son. Wei WuXian teaches him everything he knows about cultivation, that is not little knowledge, on the contrary, Wei Yuan ends up learning so many things, even about different sects. His father teaches him about the Lan Sect and Jiang Sect more than any others, he hears about a big library where he used to copy 3000 rules from the Lan Sect, watched closely by the most gracious man that his father has ever seen. Wei Yuan learns that his father often thinks about this Lan man, when the moon rises fully in the night sky, drinking some alcohol if they can allow it.

He learns enough demonic cultivation too, enough to prevent accidents from happening, enough not to panic, and enough to suppress the stigean seal if needed. Of course, he can't do that alone, it's only to help his father. "Never use it, A-Yuan, you know how if feels now, so you can identify it, but never use it. You can think of better ways."

He learns about talismans, more than any other Sect may even know that exist, his father is proud of that. And he is too. His father knows so many things that A-Yuan is enchanted with everything he learns. He is a good boy.

......

When A-yuan is close to become 13, Wei WuXian goes back to the town and orders a sword for him, one similar to suibian in terms of speed and weight, but black. It was going to be ready in a month and a half, the shopkeeper said. And it was going to be expensive. But it was worth it, Wei Ying knew, anything for his little boy. Besides, winter didn't had many hunting opportunities, it was a good timing.

When the time passed, Wei WuXian took A-Yuan with him to the town. They sold some talismans during the day, bought food and some warmer clothes that would be useful since there was starting to snow already in the forest, and then, they stopped by the smithy. Wei WuXian gave his son an excited smile.

When A-Yuan received the sword, he was more than happy. He was jumping like he was five again, hugging his father like he would never let go, so happy that he cried a little. Wei WuXian laughed at him for that, but he was equally happy just by watching his son. He knew it was worth it.

On the following days, Wei WuXian trained him with his sword. He couldn't use Suibian properly since he couldn't transfer it any energy, and using resentful energy didn't work at all on the blade (he had tried, it didn't went well.) But he could use it as a normal sword, and he was good at it. Better than the good ones. They sparred until his father said it was good enough to go for a nighthunt in the following days.

Little did they know that they would split, running from a Yao that had really long claws, just as large as Suibian, and creept at fast speed. It was a dangerous one, climbing the trees and jumping at them from above. The beast followed A-Yuan at first, be could hear it growling right behind him. The boy ran away at his father's order, and the beast got distracted after a while thanks to his father's music. A-Yuan ran until stopping at the entrance of a cave, listening attentively to the dizi in the distance, just in case he heard another order from Wei WuXian.

The snow was freezing his feets, and he was already wet to the knee, some of his back too because he had rolled over avoiding the Yao's claws. The dizi went silent abruptly, but it wasn't always a bad thing. It probably meant his father had killed the beast using resentful energy. He waited for about ten minutes before deciding he would go back, but as he was about to go the way he came from, he heard steps behind.

Too close to avoid to be seen, too close to run away successfully. A-Yuan turned around, ready for a fight when he saw a boy his age, dressed in white, with a headband matching the could embroidery of his robes. A Lan. It was a Lan. They couldn't find his father.

Turns out, it was a friendly Lan, that gave him a look and then proceeded to explain that he was lost. "We were nighthunting, but I got lost following the tracks of a Yao." He had said. "Honestly, I fell into a pit when I was running away, and when I got out, it was gone. Have you seen it, perhaps?" But A-Yuan lied, said that he hadn't. That he was fighting a ghost. The ones that didn't let traces behind. At this, the Lan shivered, murmuring something about hating ghosts, and A-Yuan couldn't help it, he laughed hard. He was absolutely stressed from running, ten minutes more would probably help his limbs, he thought.

The Lan got flustered at his laugh, not used to such displays of emotions from others, but he ended up laughing too. They talked for an hour or so, until A-Yuan realized that his father must have been searching him like a madman. He apologized to the Lan boy, grabbed his sword, and run away in a hurry, leaving a very confused cultivator behind. When he arrived his home, it was almost sunrise already. Wei WuXian was waiting for him in front of the door. When he saw him appear, he run towards him and hugged him hard.

Again, A-Yuan didn't ask. He knew his father's pain without need of explanation. He hugged back, letting the bad feelings go at once. They slept side by side that night, like when A-Yuan was a toddler, holding all their memories together. Keeping them warm.

.......

A couple of months later, the spring came back, and A-Yuan was more than happy to help his father with the orchard. They played in the river too, hunted some pheasants and rabbits that started to reappear from their hibernation, and Wei WuXian allowed A-Yuan to go alone to the town. He knew it was a big thing, because his father thought of his petition for about a week before answering. He had to be careful, "there are really bad people out there, my radish." But if he could nighthunt, he could take some walks around the market and enjoy tasteful food once in a while, he thought.

In one of his expeditions to the town, he met that Lan boy again. "This one is called Lan JingYi, since you ran away last time I couldn't tell you that, but we spoke about good food, and you mentioned this inn." He said. And A-Yuan smiled. He didn't say his name, but it was enough that the owner of the inn saw him, invited them both to take a seat and eat, calling him "A-Yuan". He had to be aware from his last name.

Nonetheless, he shared with Lan JingYi a good meal, happy when his new friend complimented his good taste with food.

It was not the last time they met. Lan JingYi usually appeared at the town from time to time after sending him a letter to that inn, that the owner gave him when he arrived the town. He was happy to have a friend, so Wei WuXian allowed it. It was good that his son had a dependable friend. Even if it was dangerous, he thought that some meals and sporadic letters couldn't do any harm to anyone. As long as A-Yuan was happy, he would comply. He wanted his son to have everything.

Time passed by quickly, they knew. They sold more talismans at the market, nighthunted anything and everything that they could, shared stories about their days when they were apart, ate delicious foods at the inn sometimes, and trained. They trained a lot.

In was when they turned 15 that Lan JingYi gave A-Yuan an invitation to study at Cloud recesses.

And Wei WuXian had to decide new plans.

[robininthelabyrinth]

JGY (either time-traveling to fix things or normal but with an agenda of his own) figures out WWX’s golden core loss after the Sunshot campaign and “accidentally” lets JC, LXC, NMJ, and LWJ know. He claims he thought everyone knew and were just being politely quiet about the matter, how was he supposed to know it wasn’t obvious?

“I can’t tell,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao looked at him blankly – he hadn’t expected anyone to come after him, not after that little ‘casual’ revelation he’d just used to explode the previously perfectly nice if extremely tense gathering that they were having. “No, really. Was that your version of being nice?”

On second thought, maybe he should have expected it. He’d forgotten, he supposed, that Nie Mingjue didn’t actually care one way or another about Wei Wuxian and his demonic cultivation - he’d spoken favorably of Luo Qingyang when she’d stood up for him against the bullying of her sect, he’d refused to join in with Jin Guangshan’s demands for the Tiger Seal, and he’d only agreed to participate in the siege of the Burial Mounds because of the deaths of some Nie cultivators in Wei Wuxian’s rampage. Even then he’d led one of the smallest contingents, falling well behind the Jin and Jiang sects, and even behind the Lan.

He’d probably only brought the families of the deceased, come to think of it. He would have been shepherding them through their grief, letting anger wash them clean the way the Nie sect preferred. 

Of course, neither the siege nor the deaths had yet occurred, and even Luo Qingyang had yet to rebel in favor of the absent Wei Wuxian. It was still very early days after the end of the Sunshot Campaign, and he hadn’t yet stolen the Wen remnants away from the prisoner of war camps; Wei Wuxian was still an acknowledged young master, if a somewhat disreputable one given his demonic cultivation.

And since that was the case - why would Nie Mingjue care one bit about Wei Wuxian’s missing golden core? Or even that it could be found in Jiang Cheng’s belly instead?

The others had reacted about as he’d expected: Jiang Cheng was utterly devastated, of course, and Lan Wangji hardly better, and Lan Xichen – ever concerned for Lan Wangji – had immediately taken to fussing over everyone, even as Wei Wuxian’s attempts to deny it turned into attempts to comfort Jiang Cheng, which naturally only made everything worse.

As panicked “don’t pay attention to me” moves went, it was stunningly effective.

Except for Nie Mingjue, of course. That fucker always did ruin all of his plans.

“Maybe not, then,” Nie Mingjue said, and came to stand by him. Jin Guangyao was leaning on the railing of the balcony in Jinlin Tower, trying and failing to get his bearings: wasn’t it just yesterday that he was the master here?

Yesterday, or over a decade from now – it was all the same. Nothing in Jinlin Tower had changed.

Maybe he should have changed it more, when he had the chance.

“In that case, what were you trying to get out of it?” Nie Mingjue asked. His voice was short, volatile, suspicious, but not yet so temperamental as he was at the end – had Jin Guangyao started poisoning him yet?

He couldn’t quite remember. No memory was perfect, not in the long term – he’d go mad if he had to remember each bit of paperwork he’d ever done forever – and he’d long ago thrown those distressing things to the far reaches of his mind. What’s done was done, and that was that; there was no use in regretting. 

Of course, right now, somehow, what was done had not yet been done, and he didn’t know what to do with that.

“Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue said. “Are you - all right?”

Jin Guangyao looked at him.

Nie Mingjue was frowning at him, uncharacteristically hesitating over something, and then seemed to decide fuck it and reached up to press a hand to Jin Guangyao’s forehead.

…what?

“No fever,” Nie Mingjue said, and reached for his hand, taking his pulse. “Let me see –”

“I’m not sick,” Jin Guangyao objected, belatedly understanding. “Why would you think I’m sick?”

“Because you’re not talking,” Nie Mingjue said, and – Jin Guangyao took offense to that suggestion. “Normally you’re the first to come up with excuses, explanations, and rationalizations.”

Well, Jin Guangyao couldn’t deny that.

“Why should I excuse my actions?” he asked, drawing his shattered dignity around him like a cloak. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “You really haven’t. But you have reunified the Jiang sect with the Yiling Patriarch, and your father won’t be happy about that.”

His father?

Right. His father was still around at this time, and Jin Guangyao had still been bowing and scraping and running all his errands, doing all the dirty deeds in the world, thinking that he might – what? One day respect him? Regret what he’d done to his mother, perhaps?

What had he been thinking back then? It had all seemed so dreadfully important at the time, and yet now, after everything, he really couldn’t remember why.

“You’re definitely sick,” Nie Mingjue decided. “Come with me; there’s medicine in my rooms.”

“You just want to get away from all the shouting and tears and all,” Jin Guangyao muttered accusingly.

“Naturally. I have a reputation to think of, after all, and I’m a sympathetic crier.”

Jin Guangyao choked.

“The shouting is fine,” Nie Mingjue added. “I can handle shouting.”

“No, you can’t,” Jin Guangyao said. “You’re a sympathetic shouter, too.”

“I said I could handle it, not that I would make it pleasant for other people.”

Jin Guangyao ducked his head to hide (of all unexpected things) a genuine smile that threatened to surface. He’d forgotten Nie Mingjue’s strange sense of humor, too, along with all the other things he’d made himself forget. His sworn brother…he’d once been more than just a raging temper and a pair of blame-filled eyes on a decapitated head, more than a demon he lived in fear of.

“Should we do something for them?” he asked, remembering how earnestly he’d pretended to care about others during this time. “Help er-ge calm them down, maybe?”

“Xichen enjoys this sort of fussing; if he gets tired of it, he can always leave. This is a fight they need to have.” Nie Mingjue shrugged. “I’ll send Huaisang after them later. He’ll annoy them into a better mood.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works for people other than you, da-ge.”

“No one can persist in feeling bad for themselves when they’re busy yelling at Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said with certainty, and thinking back over nearly two decades of knowing Nie Huaisang, with or without Nie Mingjue, Jin Guangyao was forced to conclude that that was probably true. “Come on, come with me. Drink some medicine, get some rest, and you can think about what you want to do next in the morning.”

Do next?

Yes, Jin Guangyao supposed he needed to think of that. But perhaps Nie Mingjue was right: it was something he could think of tomorrow, when he had time to recover from his shock, time to think, to plan. To come up with a new set of goals, ones that his impulsive reaction just now hadn’t forestalled.

Tomorrow.

[thegreymoon]

Word of Honor

Poor Heartless Amethyst Fiend 😢

Murder and betrayal are hard when they love you so much and you learned to love them too 💔

***

I love these two 😂

***

LMAO, look at him causing a mess and then sitting back to enjoy the show 😂

***

Uh-oh, boyfriend is mad 😅

***

Eh? 

This doesn’t sound right 🤔 How much does A-Xu know about WKX anyway? He knows that he wants Gao Chong dead and the Jianghu dissolved into chaos. But does he know he’s a Ghost? Much less Ghost chief? 

***

Careful, king, your insanity is showing 😬

***

Oh, shit, no! 😭

Why do I always underestimate how brutal this show is going to get 😭 I thought he was going to get knocked about a bit so that we can mock him for getting beaten up by two senior citizens, but no, it had to be blood!

***

Wait... this loser actually came through for her?

I still don’t trust him as far as I can throw him 😠 Waiting for him to turn again. 

***

Super creepy. 

He looks like he and Chucky would be best friends 👇👇

***

Oh, yes, become a monk and leave the sect in the hands of two children that are surrounded by vipers inside and out 🙄

Fantastic plan! What could possibly go wrong?

***

God, I hope at least some of those kegs are filled with gunpowder instead of wine 🙄🙄

There has been entirely too much talking and talking and talking in this episode and not enough fighting! 

***

Well. This looks unhygienic and like a good way to obtain blood poisoning and disease 😬

***

OMG, Lao Wen, I’ve been yelling the same thing at my computer for the past 20 minutes! 😭😭

WE ARE ON THE SAME PAGE HERE!! PLEASE FIGHT ALREADY!! 

***

LMAO, I love him 😂

***

OMFG, please stop breaking up already 😫

Must we go through this every two episodes? 😭

***

Mind control?? 

Interesting 🤔🤔

***

Oh, so the Ghost Valley and Scorpions are collaborating!

But it is the traitor Ghost, so not really? 🤔 Anyway, her disguise is laughable. 

She should take classes from the rival Ghost ladies. I could paint on a better moustache than this! 

***

Well, shit. 

This was brutal. 

***

I feel sorry for him. 

I actually believe him that he is trying to do the right thing. IDK, I have nothing to base this on except for that one scene when he paid respects to his old friends and cried in front of their memorial tablets. Also, I feel like it would be too easy if WKX was to be entirely right about him being evil, plus I’m not even half-way through this show and plots need to be messy.

***

Fighting! Finally!

***

Oh, cutie, you are going to be so wrong, so many times! Listen to A-Xu! He seems to be way more level-headed than you! 

Anyway, it’s about time his crazy ass got taken down a peg or two. 

***

Ahahahaha, smack him, A-Xu!! 🤗🤗

I hate him so much. I know he hasn’t really done anything yet, but just look at his stupid moustache 🤢 He’s so smackable! Also, he betrayed Aunt Luo so he can just die. I bet he’s collaborating with the Scorpions and the the traitor Ghost to discredit Gao Cheng. Shen Shen is a jackass, but at least he seems honestly devoted to First Brother. This one is so fucking slimy. 

***

Oh, thank fuck. 

Anyway, this has got to be some record for the shortest breakup in history.

***

LMAO, look at his stupid loser face 😂😂 Flee, Chengling! Flee!

Suffer, asshole! He 100% had something to do with this whole mess. But why is everyone after Chengling now? He no longer has the Glazed Armour piece with him 🤔 

***

OK, don’t judge, don’t judge, but this guy is hot 🔥🔥

***

Actually, I take that back, there is nothing to judge, he’s very, very attractive and I have excellent taste 🔥🔥🔥

***

And down comes the monument.

***

Eh. There goes my favourite colourful villain 🙁

***

What wealth? Didn’t your sorry ass admit to squandering it all away? 

***

WHAT?? DA GE, WHY??

It’s the other one! You should kill the other one!! 😭😭

***

LMAO, look at their stupid evil faces!

Anyway, what are the odds that he destroyed the real Glazed Armour when WKX made dozens of fake pieces that are floating all over the Jianghu? My bet is on zero. 

***

What a horrible way to kill yourself 🙁

This show just won’t let me thirst in peace 😠😠

***

Anyway, you have got to love how shocked and dismayed he always looks when his chaotic schemes end up hurting the wrong people 😕

Did he learn anything when the senior citizen poly alliance ended up dead because of him? Of course not! We had to do a repeat. He deserves to have A-Xu yell at him a bit. 

***

Of course 🙄🙄

***

When he’s a bloodthirsty dumbass, but he’s sad and you love him anyway 🙄

***

LMAO, don’t hold back, A-Xu! Tell him what you really think! 😂

***

Villain confirmed! 

Thank you for validating me, A-Xu! He’s been giving off shady vibes from the very beginning! 

***

LMAO, look at him, back on his bullshit already 🙄

Cutie, haven’t you had enough?

***

That’s right, A-Xu! He more than deserves the scolding!!

***

Die. 💀💀

I can excuse being a slimy sleaze ball but I draw the line at his stupid cartoon villain face with his stupid villain moustache 🤢

Scorpion, baby, I don’t know what your damage is, but please do better!

***

LMAO, Ye Baiyi is a gift that keeps on giving 😂😂

***

LMAO, EXCUSE ME??

YOUR CHILD, LAO WEN?? 🧐🧐

***

Great minds think alike 😂😂

I am living for the enmity between YBY and WKX 😂😂 Also, poor A-Xu, he now has two gremlins to defuse 😂😂

***

Wait, he’s alive?

I thought Gao Chong killed him??

***

So, is Scorpion and illegitimate son he’s manipulating into killing for him or something? 🤔

Is this a Meng Yao situation? Am I getting this right? If so, I’m hoping for a similar outcome 💀💀 Go on, Scorpion, do it! End him and make me proud!!

[spaceskam]

A Boy Like That

Summary: In which teenage Lan Xichen dotes on Nie Huaisang to flirt with Nie Mingjue. 

Word Count: 4,016

Warnings: implied separation anxiety

ao3

Nie Huaisang quite liked Gusu.

There were many more things to see with many more colors than in the Unclean Realm. That was all gray and boring, but the Cloud Recesses were all pretty blues and pure whites and tons of plants. The men inside were all stunning and, although he couldn’t see them, he had to assume the women were as well. Everything was endlessly beautiful. 

Including the very important person Da-ge was speaking to.

Lan Xichen stood tall and thin, his hands behind his back and his smile easy. He looked at Da-ge in the exact opposite way that he was looking at him with his shoulders back and his face permanently angry. It always was when there were others around to see. The only thing that made Nie Huaisang sure his brother wasn’t all stone was the fact he didn’t let go of his hand even when clutched his saber in the other.

“I can help you study,” Lan Xichen offered, voice just as pretty as he was, “I understand not everyone can learn by reading.”

“I learn just fine,” Da-ge said, but even he couldn’t keep his angry voice around Lan Xichen. Nie Huaisang couldn’t stop staring at him. Nothing in the Unclean Realm was like him; he was a character in a storybook who was the definition of elegance. 

“I don’t mean to insult you, Nie-gongzi,” he said, “One future sect leader to another, I think we need to work together if we want to be better than our predecessors, don’t you? Especially if it means surviving the elder sect leaders we’ll inevitably have to work with. Sect Leader Yao is going to outlive us all out of spite, I’m sure of it.”

 Da-ge let out a slow breath and looked to the side for a moment. Lan Xichen never once looked bothered. He was all patience. Nie Huaisang studied his face anyway, the smile that gave away nothing. Every single time he saw him, he had that smile. Nie Huaisang tucked it in the back of his mind for later.

“It isn’t that I can’t study, it’s that I can’t focus with my secret weapon,” Da-ge said, lifting his arm and lifting Nie Huaisang off the ground with ease. He giggled quietly and smiled at his brother. Lan Xichen’s expression changed just enough to show his complete fondness.

“Ah, I’d say he could play with A-Zhan, but A-Zhan doesn’t really play,” he said, crouching down just a little to get on eye level with Nie Huaisang, “But you’re in luck because I do.”

Nie Huaisang smiled shyly and pressed into his brother’s side.

“Xichen, you don’t need to‒”

“Let me help you, Da-ge,” Lan Xichen said, raising to his full height again. Nie Huaisang noticed the way his smile changed with his voice into something teasing. When he looked up to his brother, he saw him softening up just a little.

“If he gets to be too much, bring him back,” Da-ge said, “And he will get too much.”

“Nonsense,” Lan Xichen said, holding out his hand, “Come, A-Sang, let Da-ge study.” 

Nie Huaisang checked with Da-ge first before reluctantly grabbing Lan Xichen’s hand, but he kept a hold on his brother. He wanted to make sure this was actually what they were going to do. He didn’t really like leaving Da-ge’s side. It was always a bad idea. But Da-ge nodded and released his hand.

“Don’t cause trouble, do you understand?”

“A-Sang is not trouble, Da-ge is trouble,” he said. Da-ge glared at him until Nie Huaisang’s laughter made it go away. Lan Xichen chuckled.

“We’ll be just fine,” he promised.

Da-ge gave Nie Huaisang a once over before he reluctantly headed towards the library. He looked over his shoulder to him just once before he disappeared into the room that was full of things that Nie Huaisang could make a mess with. He felt a little nervous when he could no longer see his brother and he really thought about running after him and promising to be quiet. Lan Xichen was pretty and nice, but it wasn’t the same. What if something bad happened? 

“Don’t worry, A-Sang, we’ll have a lot of fun,” Lan Xichen said, his voice calm and reassuring. Nie Huaisang nodded and leaned into Lan Xichen’s leg. He was taller than Da-ge by just a little.

He led the way as they headed away from the buildings and into some of the pretty trees. Nie Huaisang reached out to touch the grass and leaves as he passed them, careful not to pull on any of them even when he really wanted to. Lan Xichen, oddly enough, had a much firmer grip on his hand than Da-ge. He was pretty and elegant like in storybooks, but he was strong. Maybe that’s why he’s the only one Da-ge didn’t hate.

They eventually came to a stop when they got to a small clearing with a stream nearby. Bunnies hopped around freely and Nie Huaisang watched them with wide, intrigued eyes. Lan Xichen loosened his grip on his hand.

“Now, you can play, but this is still a quiet place, A-Sang,” Lan Xichen said softly, couching down to look at him in the eye so he would understand, “This is A-Zhan’s favorite space, but I don’t think he’ll mind us playing here as long as we take care of it.”

“Yes, Lan-gongzi.”

Lan Xichen laughed softly, “That’s too formal, call me Er-ge.”

Nie Huaisang thought about telling him that was too informal, but if he told him it was okay then it must be. He nodded. 

Lan Xichen let him to the middle of the small clearing and gestured for him to sit down. Nie Huaisang watched all the bunnies hop around and he just wanted to chase them and grab them and hug them, but he knew that was wrong. So he sat and watched Lan Xichen intently, watching for what to do next. 

“If you’re very nice, they’ll be your friend,” Lan Xichen said softly, reaching out to pick up one of the braver bunnies. He put it on Nie Huaisang’s lap. “Be very gentle.”

He nodded, petting the bunny as softly as possible. It took a lot of self-control, but he tried really hard. He didn’t want to scare the bunny away.

“A-Zhan loves these rabbits. One time, I couldn’t find him anywhere I went, even here, but then it turns out he’d just been so still they’d all piled on him while he took a nap,” Lan Xichen said. Nie Huaisang looked up at him with wide eyes. He couldn’t imagine staying that still for so long. Da-ge said he kicked in his sleep, too.

“Wow,” Nie Huaisang said. Lan Xichen smiled, reaching his hand out to some of the shy bunnies. They sniffed his fingertips before hopping a little closer. “I can’t do that.”

“It’s alright. Everyone is different and they like different things,” he said, tilting his head, “What do you like?”

“I like…” Nie Huaisang said, watching Lan Xichen for a moment. He knew that he was supposed to say swordplay. He had gotten in trouble because he didn’t like swords. But Lan Xichen seemed like he might not get mad at him for that. “I like stories.”

“Stories? What kind of stories?”

“Like… Like the one where the big strong warrior saves the fair maiden and they, they fall in love and, and they get married. Or the one where the Sect Leader who was the strongest cultivator ever reached immortality and, and he fell in love with a lesser cultivator, but he spent years helping her so they could be immortal together and, and then he left his Sect to be a rogue cultivator with her forever!” Nie Huaisong said, getting a little too excited that the bunnies ran off. Lan Xichen didn’t seem bothered by it as he smiled. “Da-ge read me that one, he said it was his favorite.”

“Da-ge has a favorite love story?” Lan Xichen asked. Nie Huaisang’s eyes widened and he gasped, switching to his knees as he shushed him.

“Shhh, Da-ge said it’s a secret,” he said. It took him a few seconds before he realized he’d just shushed the heir to the Lan Sect. He was about to apologize, but Lan Xichen was smiling so maybe it was okay.

 “So Da-ge’s favorite story is of a Sect Leader and his love becoming immortal and running away together?” Lan Xichen said, smiling, “That’s very romantic.”

“Romantic,” Nie Huaisang repeated, dropping his shoulder and nodded insistently.

“I read one about a female cultivator who was so strong and wise, but she fell in love with a common man and gave up everything for him. I’ll have to find the book for you,” Lan Xichen offered. Nie Huaisang smiled wide and nodded.

“Yes, thank you, Er-ge.”

Lan Xichen smiled to the point his eyes got all crinkly. Da-ge never did that. It made him look even more handsome, Nie Huaisang thought. He wondered how many female cultivators pictured him when they dreamed of their future husband. Probably too many to count.

“What else does A-Sang like? Poetry? Music? Drawing?” Lan Xichen. He didn’t even once mention swordplay. Nie Huaisang really liked him.

“Yes! Da-ge lets me skip calligraphy practice to draw sometimes,” Nie Huaisang said, but he soon realized what he said and his eyes went wide, “But, but don’t say anything because Da-ge got in trouble.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Lan Xichen said, still smiling, “Da-ge is a very good big brother to you.”

“He’s the best,” Nie Huaisang said. Lan Xichen smiled and looked down for a moment. He almost looked a little sad. Before Nie Huaisang could say anything to make him feel better, though, he looked back up.

“Would you like to see something?” he asked. Nie Huaisang nodded instantly. Lan Xichen reached into his sleeve and pulled out a xiao. “Its name is Liebing.”

Nie Huaisang leaned perhaps a bit too close, eyes wide with intrigue. There weren’t really instruments in the Unclean Realm. They weren’t valued unless they were used in battle, which was a skill typically only used in the Lan Sect‒anything that wasn’t useful in battle wasn’t valued. He only got to see them when he ventured outside which wasn’t often. He’d never seen one so up close.

“And you use it to fight?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“I could, but the Lan Sect has many other uses for their instruments. We have songs to communicate with ghosts and songs to purify someone’s golden core and songs to help heal someone‒almost anything you can think of,” Lan Xichen said. Nie Huaisang nodded easily. Then Lan Xichen smiled and leaned a little closer. “But, if you can keep a secret, I quite like playing for fun.”

“A-Sang can keep a secret,” he promised. Lan Xichen nodded.

“I bet you can.”

He brought Liebing to his lips and played a couple of notes. Nie Huaisang was entranced. He scooted close and tried to see all the things Lan Xichen was doing. It sounded so pretty and it was so cool. Lan Xichen laughed.

“Here, look,” he said. He handed Liebing to Nie Huaisang and it felt like the biggest privilege in the world. He held it very carefully as Lan Xichen showed him where to hold it near his mouth and adjusted his fingers over the holes. “Now blow just a little bit. Not too hard. Gentle, like you were with the bunnies.”

Nie Huaisang nodded and a soft, pretty sound came from it. He nearly jumped out of his body with joy. He wanted to run around and make as much noise with it as he could, but he couldn’t because that was against the rules. So, instead, he smiled and tried to keep calm even though he was already moving. Lan Xichen didn’t seem bothered as he moved his fingers to show him another note.

They did that for a while until Nie Huaisang was struggling to stay still and Lan Xichen indulged him just a little, letting him chase around the bunnies for a few minutes. He knew it was against the rules to run inside the Cloud Recesses, but Lan Xichen urged him to get it out of his system. A-Zhan never felt the need, he’d said, but he understood wanting to.

“A-Sang should find things to entertain his hands when his body can’t run around or draw,” Lan Xichen said, “It will help.”

Nie Huaisang eyed him for a moment. It seemed like he was slowly leading in to tell him to practice swordplay, to keep him entertained. He wouldn’t know what to say to that. Lan Xichen didn’t seem like the type to particularly enjoy swordplay in the same way most disciples were expected to. He played music and read romantic stories. Was he really going to suggest swordplay?

“Does A-Sang know how to braid?” Lan Xichen asked. Nie Huaisang stared at him. 

“No.”

“It keeps your hands busy. Perhaps it will help you allow Da-ge to focus a bit more when he’s studying, it’s a very important skill,” Lan Xichen suggested. Nie Huaisang nodded and walked a bit closer to him. He sat down beside him again and stared up at him.

“Okay.”

Lan Xichen smiled and pulled some of his own hair over his shoulder, separating it into three separate strands. He showed him the proper way to cross them slowly and didn’t say a word when Nie Huaisang leaned in super close to get a better look. When Nie Huaisang took his own hair and tried to copy him, Lan Xichen offered him ample amounts of patience even as he messed up over and over. He never once got frustrated when he was playing his xiao or chasing rabbits or braiding hair. Nie Huaisang considered asking to stay here with him forever.

“In a few years, you’ll come to study at the Cloud Recesses with other disciples your age,” Lan Xichen said softly, smiling and nodding in approval as Nie Huaisang finally got the hang of the braids, “It will be very beneficial if A-Sang finds tasks that keep his hands occupied and his mind free. You have all the makings of a very strong cultivator. You learn very quickly.”

Nie Huaisang didn’t have the right words for that. He had no real interest in being a strong cultivator. He’d much rather live a life full of stories and spending time with pretty people like Lan Xichen who played music for him and helped him break the rules. But he couldn’t say that.

He had to follow the rules and he had to do as he was told.

Nie Huaisang smiled, doing his best to copy the way that he’d seen Lan Xichen smile. “Thank you, Er-ge.”

“Nie Mingjue, your Da-ge, is a very strong cultivator,” Lan Xichen went on, “One of the strongest of all the junior disciples here, but he has a bit of a temper. If A-Sang studies and practices and keeps his smile and his wits, I think the two of you could make a rather unstoppable team.”

“Like the brothers in that story Da-ge read where they fought all the bad guys all by themselves?” Nie Huaisang asked. Lan Xichen nodded firmly and smiled.

“Brotherhood is very important and so is balance. A-Sang balances Da-ge very well. The Nie Sect has had many fearsome and angry warriors‒it seems all of the light has been saved for you,” Lan Xichen said fondly. Nie Huaisang felt his cheeks grow a bit warm at the praise. “And you bring out the light in your Da-ge. One day, the two of you could be legendary leaders together. A-Sang must take care of Da-ge the way Da-ge takes care of A-Sang.”

Nie Huaisang nodded, never breaking eye contact. It seemed important not to. He never saw Da-ge as someone that needed to be taken care of, but Lan Xichen maybe knew more than him. Maybe they could.

As fun and smart as Lan Xichen was, Nie Huaisang felt infinitely more at ease when they got to the room he and Da-ge shared. He immediately barrelled into his brother for a hug and clutched him tight. Da-ge, for all his angry stares, pet his head and put a hand on his back to hold him in place.

“Did A-Sang have fun with Xichen?” Da-ge asked. Nie Huaisang nodded against his stomach.

“He taught me his xiao,” he said, “And he taught me how to braid. He said it was a very important skill.”

“Important?”

“Yes, he said so,” Nie Huaisang argued.

“I did say so,” Lan Xichen’s soft voice said. Nie Huaisang twisted his head just enough to see him politely standing in the doorway.

“Thank you, Xichen,” Da-ge said, taking his hands off Nie Huaisang just long enough to bow. They went back to his hair and his back once he was done.

“My pleasure,” Lan Xichen said, “I take great pride in being entrusted with Nie-gongzi’s most sacred of weapons.”

Da-ge hummed in a noncommittal fashion, petting Nie Huaisang’s head perhaps a little too rough. He didn’t mind as he hugged his brother a little tighter in retaliation. Da-ge never asked for hugs, but when he did things like that it usually meant he wanted one. Or, at least, wouldn’t reject one.

“Both Nie-gongzi and A-Sang should attend dinner with Grandmaster tomorrow evening,” Lan Xichen suggested, “It would be good for Grandmaster to meet you both.”

“Would it?” Da-ge asked, his tone of voice suggesting a little more than Nie Huaisang could put together. He tilted his head up to see if there was anything on his face giving it away.

Then, he remembered the way their father screamed and sent them both to punishment for little things and instilled fear in so many and yet still got praised with ‘at least he’s nicer than the previous Sect Leader’. That and Lan Xichen’s mention of Da-ge having a bad temper. Maybe that’s what it was.

“It would,” Lan Xichen said calmly, “Because then this disciple would not have to explain when I ask to attend with Nie-gongzi on my own.”

Da-ge was quiet for a very, very long time. So Nie Huaisang spoke for him.

“A-Sang thinks that’s very important,” he said, echoing the way Lan Xichen had spoken earlier in the day. The smile he got in return from the storybook-like man made it worth every effort. 

“Okay,” Da-ge said, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Lan Xichen replied, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Er-ge!”

“A-Sang.”

“Goodnight, Nie-er-gongzi,” Lan Xichen said, amusement in his voice even though he gave him a stern face and bowed deeply for Nie Huaisang to earn a laugh. He stood up straight with a smile and looked over his head to Da-ge. “Goodnight, Mingjue.”

“Goodnight, Xichen.”

Lan Xichen exited with that same ease he always carried. He seemed to float. Had A-Sang not felt his strength with his own hand, he might’ve thought he was simply air itself. The moment he was gone out of sight, though, Da-ge grabbed Nie Huaisang’s wrists and pulled him off his feet. Nie Huaisang laughed as he wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck and got a proper hug.

Da-ge breathed in deep as he squeezed him tight and breathed out. Nie Huaisang suddenly understood what Lan Xichen meant about taking care of his brother a little bit better.

“A-Sang missed Da-ge,” he said. Da-ge didn’t respond as he just held him for a little while. He wondered just how big he would have to get before he stopped lifting him in the air liked that.

He hoped he never got too big.

After they retrieved their dinner for the night and brought it back to their room, Nie Huaisang was finally allowed a bit of freedom. He ate while he talked and ate while he wandered around the room, looking at all the little things the Lan Sect put in their dormitories. He’d already looked at most of them, but they were usually too interested to ignore.

Eventually, Da-ge let him get a hold of his hair and he started adding braids everywhere he could. He didn’t fight him about or even look at him like he was angry, he just let him do whatever he wanted. He was his favorite person in the world.

“Did Da-ge study?” Nie Huaisang asked, again remembering what Lan Xichen had said as he took a bite off the spoon that Da-ge held out to him. 

“I did,” Da-ge said, “There’s too many rules and logistics here and not enough real-world application. I think I would’ve gotten as much knowledge with you asking what everything was the whole time.”

“A-Sang can do that tomorrow.”

Da-ge nodded in agreement.

After a bath and getting into their Lan-white night robes, Nie Huaisang lingered by the cot that had been set up for him when Da-ge had shown up with him attached to his side. It wasn’t usual for disciples to bring siblings too young to study inside the Cloud Recesses, but they’d made an exception after he promised to be on his best behavior. It usually meant sleeping in past Da-ge’s classes and then hanging onto his side after that.

“Sleep, A-Sang,” Da-ge said, lifting him onto the cot. He draped the blanket over him and pet his head.

Da-ge made it all the way to his bed and laid all the way down and extinguished all of the candles before Nie Huaisang slid off of the cot. He tip-toed over and crawled under the blanket, his head popping out of the top beside his brother’s. He didn’t yell at him or tell him to go back to bed, he just gave a tiny little smile and nodded.

“Er-ge looks like the cultivator from the love stories,” Nie Huaisang told him softly. Da-ge breathed in slowly.

“Does he?”

“Er-ge is pretty like them,” he explained. Da-ge didn’t answer, but Nie Huaisang reached out to put his palm on his cheek. He felt warm. “Da-ge thinks Er-ge is pretty.”

“I don’t think anyone is pretty.”

“A-Sang is pretty,” he refuted. Da-ge turned his head to look at him, smiling in that way he only did when there was no one around to say anything. Nie Huaisang smiled wide enough to make up for them both.

“You’re right, A-Sang is very pretty.”

The next morning, it only took a little persuasion to get Da-ge to keep the braids that hung around to frame his face. Nie Huaisang put a handful of random ones in his hair as well so he wouldn’t be embarrassed. It felt fair and Da-ge looked pretty.

By the time they ran into Lan Xichen, it was nearing midday. His eyes lit up and he stepped close, touching one of the braids in Da-ge’s hair.

“Da-ge, your braids! They’re so pretty!” It was the most vibrant Nie Huaisang had ever heard from any Lan disciple, even if it was teasing, and he felt the excitement grow in his chest in response.

“I blame you for this,” Da-ge grumbled, still managing that angry stare even when someone who looked like Lan Xichen was being so friendly. Nie Huaisang bounced onto his toes, laughing slightly.

“This disciple accepts responsibility,” Lan Xichen said, bowing slightly. His playful expression didn’t fade as he looked to Nie Huaisang. “A-Sang did such a good job.”

“Thank you, Er-ge.”

Lan Xichen nodded and stood up a bit straighter. He looked at Da-ge and Da-ge looked at him and they seemed to have a whole conversation without saying a word of it. It ended with Da-ge nodding twice.

“Would A-Sang like to draw while Da-ge studies?” Lan Xichen asked. Nie Huaisang’s eyes widened with excitement and he nodded, accepting Lan Xichen’s hand when he held it out.

The three of them walked to the library together and if he deliberately stayed on his best behavior when Lan Xichen leaned a bit closer to help Da-ge with his calligraphy, they would be none the wiser.

[shijiujun]

never felt like this (with somebody)

Lu Yao gets jealous, is mad that he’s jealous and decides to step back a little, hoping Chusheng doesn’t notice.

Of course Chusheng notices.

---

He doesn’t know how it all began, this… itch in his chest, the tremble in his hands and the tight vise that curls around his stomach, squeezing so tight he thinks he might throw up.

It’s not like Chusheng is doing anything different than usual in all the months Lu Yao has known him. Lu Yao knows what kind of person Chusheng is — he’s righteous, loyal, exceedingly competent and has a tiny bit of a temper that’s reserved for uncooperative and criminals and also Lu Yao when he starts eating on the job. He’s also very handsome, if not as handsome as he is, and he likes his whiskey, his job and lastly-

Qiao Chusheng likes women. A lot of them. Pretty, nice ones at the nightclub or brothels who call him Qiao Si-ye and Chusheng-ge, a woman hanging off his arms when he goes out for fun in the night. Even the waitresses at the expensive restaurants that Chusheng brings him to end up flirting with the man right there at the table, or at the cashier when Chusheng is paying the bill, asking him if he would like to go out for a meal or bring them home. Sometimes he agrees. A lot of the times, he agrees.

Lu Yao first blamed this uncomfortable feeling on competitiveness — after all, all the women they’ve met so far have chosen to look at Chusheng and talk to him over Lu Yao, and a man has to have some pride, right?

Then as the weeks go by, as he gets to know Chusheng better, as he comes to rely on Chusheng and trust the man to have his back — after the incident with Zhiqing-ge, after Lu Yao is shot, after seeing Chusheng’s back so many times as the man puts himself in front of him, between danger and Lu Yao to protect him— he feels even worse.

When he sees Chusheng blow off his home cooked dinners sometimes, only to bump into him at the nightclub, or when he brings some woman to a restaurant he brought Lu Yao to only days before, or when Lu Yao walks into the station early in the morning only to see that dazed, happy look on Chusheng’s face, and no one looks that happy in the morning unless they had a really good night (and morning) in bed.

In the beginning, it was fun to wreck Chusheng’s dates by disturbing him with a case, or damage his expensive motorbike, and tease him about all the women he knows in the great city of Shanghai.

A few months in and the familiar scene now grates on Lu Yao’s nerves.

Lu Yao is broken out of his trance when Youning nudges him hard at the side with her elbow, and he turns, about to glare at her when she asks, “You’ve been glaring at Chusheng-ge for the past ten minutes. What’s wrong with you? Did you guys quarrel?”

“What-“

Taken aback, Lu Yao looks at Youning with incredullity and replies, “I wasn’t!”

She picks up a piece of tofu and eats it, and with a raised eyebrow, she gestures towards where Chusheng is currently still chatting up an old friend who passed by their table earlier a distance away.

A lady friend. A very beautiful lady friend.

“If looks could kill, Chusheng-ge would have died a thousand times already in these ten minutes alone,” Youning thinks of something suddenly, moving forward and squinting her eyes at Lu Yao, “San Tu… unless… are you jealous?”

His body flushes hot immediately in embarrassment.

“Jealous? What do you mean by that?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes and making a show out of leaning into his chair with his arms crossed, “How could I be jealous? Well, maybe, of Lao Qiao, because he’s got so many beautiful women for friends and hasn’t introduced me to a single one.”

Youning shakes her head, considering Lu Yao before concluding, “Lu Yao, you look like a jilted lover. Chusheng-ge’s jilted lover, jealous of his new lover.”

“I’m not!” Lu Yao stresses, trying to explain himself, “How could I be jealous of the woman-“

“Then why haven’t you looked at the woman even once? Don’t look at her, what colour is the dress she’s wearing?” Youning holds onto his chin as he attempts to turn his head in the direction of where Chusheng and the other lady are. “Your memory and IQ are impeccable. You would know what kind of earrings she’s wearing even if you weren’t looking closely. What colour is it?”

When Lu Yao splutters in response, but is unable to answer just as she expected. Youning lets go of him, satisfied and with a predatory grin on her face.

“Ah~ So our San Tu likes Chusheng-ge-“

Angered and confused at this new revelation, Lu Yao jumps to his feet, pointing at Youning.

“You- you- Bai Youning, don’t go around spouting nonsense,” he glares, flustered for no reason, “If you say anything like this again I’m-”

“What? You’re going to chase me out of the apartment? I don’t think so! Not unless you can afford the next month’s pay on your own upfront,” Youning bats her eyelashes at him.

This infuriating woman-

He’s already lost the battle, and who knows what else Youning will say if he stays here? Glaring at  her one more time, Lu Yao picks up his coat and hightails it out of the restaurant without looking at anyone else.

It takes only a few seconds for Chusheng to come back to the table. His brows furrowed as he frowns at Lu Yao’s retreating back, Chusheng asks, “Is he okay? What happened? Did you make him angry again? Look at this, he didn’t even eat the fish he came here for.”

Youning looks at him innocently, “I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t my fault.”

Chusheng shakes his head at her, “Hmm, well then get them to pack the fish up later, you can bring it home for his supper.”

Youning sighs to herself, lamenting how oblivious both men are.

===

Lu Yao doesn’t sleep that night, Youning’s words stuck in his mind.

It’s a bucket of cold water over his head, the realization that she’s right. Lu Yao groans into his pillow and kicks at his covers.

How could he? Of all people, how could he have fallen for womanizer, player and straight Qiao Chusheng?

The next morning, Lu Yao makes up his mind after thinking on it. He looks terrible and even Youning does a double take at the dark-eye circles he has, but he’s feeling slightly better after deciding to nip this… this… infatuation in the bud. There is no way anything will come out of his crush on Lao Qiao, not to mention Lu Yao might lose someone he treasures as a friend.

His heart squeezes tight at the thought, but Lu Yao ignores it.

The solution is simple. According to rational thought and logic, as long as he spends lesser time with Chusheng, stops being in the same space as him outside of a case, stops seeing him with other women, Lu Yao can just… stop having feelings.

It’s not like the man will notice, Lu Yao thinks, biting at his lips. Lao Qiao would probably be glad that he’s not playing gooseberry or interrupting potential dates anymore.

The thought of Chusheng being happy to be rid of him makes his fists clench.

He has to be contented with being Qiao Chusheng’s good xiong-di, and knowing that Lao Qiao, at the very least, wouldn’t leave him in dangerous situations if he could help it. Ignoring the pain stabbing at him, Lu Yao heads to the station to finish up the case they are now on.

And hurt it does, when Lu Yao begs off a dinner treat with the Bai siblings once, twice, and more. It hurts when he turns down Chusheng’s offer to drive him to lunch or send him home after a case, and when Chusheng comes over for a meal, Lu Yao makes some excuses about having to see a friend or run an errand, fleeing from the house. When he has a new evidence or clues on the next case in the middle of the night, he sends Youning or Ah Dou to inform Chusheng rather than make the trip himself, lest he sees things that he doesn’t want to see.

Youning is disapproving and seems to know exactly what he’s doing, so Lu Yao begins to avoid her too.

“What’s wrong with you recently?” asks Chusheng once in the car, on their way to their latest crime scene. “You seem a little busy. I haven’t seen you around much.”

Lu Yao clears this throat awkwardly, “I… R… Really? We spend so much time together on cases, like right now.”

Chusheng shoots him a pointed look, but Lu Yao resolutely does not look back at him.

“San Tu, if… if you’re angry at me, I might have said or done something-“

Lu Yao exhales softly. Whatever it was, he didn’t expect Chusheng to think that this whole thing was his fault. That’s not the point of this exercise at all. Feeling guilty suddenly, Lu Yao finds himself reassuring his… friend.

“You didn’t,��� Lu Yao says firmly, looking outside of the window. “We’re good, Lao Qiao, don’t worry so much.”

“Hmm… San Tu, if you’ve got anything you want to say, you know you can always come to me, right? If anyone is bullying you, if Youning is being ridiculous… I have your back, you know that right?”

Chusheng says it so earnestly and Lu Yao has no trouble believing him. Feelings aside, he knows Lao Qiao wouldn’t abandon him when he needs him most.

It doesn’t change the fact that Chusheng doesn’t think of him the way Lu Yao wants him to. It doesn’t change the fact that if Chusheng really finds out what is bothering Lu Yao, he would probably leave him, or draw a line between them both.

Lu Yao would rather work at trying to erase his feelings for the man than let him know the truth.

“When is Youning not being ridiculous?” snorts Lu Yao, skirting around the topic.

He hears Chusheng sigh from next to him, but luckily for them, their destination is swiftly approaching, and all personal talk is set aside for the moment.

This whole avoiding thing lasts for three weeks, and Lu Yao might have gotten away with it for a little longer if this didn’t happen.

===

Bursting into the hospital ward panicked, Lu Yao can barely breathe until his eyes fall on the patient seated in bed.

“You-“ he swallows, trying to catch his breath back from running up the stairs, “You’re not-“

Chusheng looks at him sheepishly, and that’s when Lu Yao knows he’s been deceived. Turning around on his heels to go because this was a fucking low blow, Lu Yao nearly slams his face against the door which closes behind him.

“Bai Youning, you!” Lu Yao yells, trying the knob only to find it locked.

“Talk to him!” comes the muffled voice from the other side of the door.

When Youning first told him that Chusheng was hurt in a shootout on his latest case, Lu Yao dropped everything at home to come to the hospital with Youning without even thinking about it. To be fair, Youning was very convincing with all her tears and sniffles.

“Why are you even a reporter? You should just go and become an actress instead!” Lu Yao yells back, but all he hears are fading giggles. “I trusted you!”

“San Tu.”

Chusheng’s voice stops him in his tracks, and Lu Yao finds it difficult to breathe again for a totally different reason. He has been doing so well, so why would they do this to him?

“Good on the both of you,” he says nonetheless, turning around and letting the anger of being duped hide his anxiety of being in the same room as Chusheng now. “Did you guys think it was funny? And to think I thought of the both of you as friends, but you’re lying to me now?”

“If I didn’t do this, who knows how long more you would have tried to avoid me,” Chusheng sighs, “Besides, it’s not really a lie. I was shot at, it’s just not a severe enough injury to have me stay overnight.”

Lu Yao sees the stark white bandages around his torso and his traitorous heart squeezes in worry.

“San Tu, what’s going on? You haven’t been yourself these few weeks, it’s starting to worry me,” Chusheng continues, “We haven’t spent any time together in the last three weeks, so you’re definitely avoiding me.”

“I have my own life to lead outside of the station too,” Lu Yao lies through his teeth. “Who said I had to spend time with you? You live your life, I live mine, that’s how it works.”

Chusheng nods, stepping closer to Lu Yao as they speak and there is nowhere for him to run.

“That’s true, but considering how panicked you were when you came here earlier, well, I thought of a few possibilities for the way you’re behaving.”

He’s coming closer with every step, and Lu Yao says, “Stop right there. Don’t come any closer-“

Chusheng ignores him and continues, “So I thought your sister or maybe your two older brothers this time have hatched some elaborate plan to get you to go back home, but Lu Miao says she and her brothers have better things to do then try to get you home now that your father has approved of your staying here.”

“You’re- wait, you contacted my dajie?”

“And then I thought perhaps someone was blackmailing you,” Chusheng smiles, and Lu Yao feels rooted to the spot at the sight of that challenging, ‘you’re in trouble’ smile, “But Ah Dou, Salim and Youning say that you haven’t been meeting anyone out of the ordinary, or received any strange letters recently.”

At that, Lu Yao responds, “If someone was blackmailing me, I would have found out who it was within a day, or two.”

“That crossed my mind as well, I just wanted to be sure,” Chusheng agrees.

Lu Yao jumps when the man slams both hands agains the door he’s leaning on, bracketing Lu Yao in with his arms and body. It’s ridiculous that Chusheng can make him feel this trapped despite being shorter than him, and he turns to the side because his heart is pounding in his ears at the proximity.

“What are you doing-“

“So Youning told me something interesting this morning,” Chusheng mumurs, his voice low and Lu Yao can’t help the involuntary shiver at the sound of his voice this close, the first time in three weeks, “And she told me you’re jealous. Of the women hanging around me.”

It feels as if all the breath has left him, dread filling him, because of course Youning told Chusheng.

Closing his eyes, Lu Yao steels himself for the rejection, for the apologetic eyes, or even worse, for the laughter, asking him if this is a joke.

He hears a soft sigh instead, “San Tu, sometimes you’re a bit stupid.”

“What-“

He’s silenced when lips press over his. It’s a chaste kiss at first, but the moment Lu Yao relaxes and turns back to Chusheng, the inspector deepens the kiss, both hands coming up to bring Lu Yao closer to him.

When they finally move apart, Chusheng speaks first, “You should have just told me. I thought you weren’t interested.”

Flabbergasted, Lu Yao protests, “You never showed any hint that you would be interested either!”

“San Tu, you’re the only one who dares to talk to me the way you do. I pay for most of your meals and bring you out to any restaurant you say you’re interested in. I break some of the rules at the station if you so much as look at something expensive at a crime scene twice. I bring you coffee and tea when you order me to. Do you think I let anyone else do this with me?”

When everything finally sinks in, Lu Yao feels like hitting himself.

“Well,” he replies, cheeks heating up, “What about Mei Lan, Zi Yan, Cui Er, Ma Li and-“

“I won’t see anyone else other than you,” Chusheng promises. “And if you hate it so much, I will hang out less with my friends, male or female.”

Of course Lu Yao wouldn’t ask him to do that.

“San Tu, were you just going to leave me without any sort of explanation? Next time, just talk to me,” and when Lu Yao looks at Chusheng again, it’s to find the man’s sincere eyes looking back at him, “You’re my priority.”

Mortified and embarrassed, Lu Yao presses his face against Chusheng’s shoulder, trying to hide from the man, but the hug is nice too. Chusheng’s arms encircle him and squeeze him tight, as if he might never let him go.

It’s really, really nice, and Lu Yao thinks he might die without a hug each day from Chusheng from now on.

“I’ll make you dinner tonight,” he says, “And I want to have that fish from Bai Le Lou tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Chusheng laughs in his ear.

They hear soft giggles then, and confused, both men turn towards the door, and that’s when they see the door slightly ajar and Youning, Ah Dou and Salim peeking in with grins on their faces. Horrified that they’ve been caught, Lu Yao is about to pretend that everything is normal when something comes to mind.

Lu Yao has not forgotten how Youning betrayed him twice.

“Bai Youning!” he seethes, and Chusheng lets him go to chase after his sister.

He watches as the both of them disappear down the hallway and then the stairway with poorly disguised mirth.

“Inspector, are you going back to the station to write the concluding report?” Salim asks, curious.

“I’ll do that tomorrow, I’m going home first,” Chusheng grins, moving past them.

After all, Lu Yao promised him dinner tonight.

---

*xiong di - brother

*bai le lou - some random restaurant name

[isabilightwood]

THE PROBLEM WITH AUTHORITY - CHAPTER 9

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

[AO3][1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8]

The trees shivered under an unnatural fog. Yet the sky above was clear, save for the eerie crimson light of the stars. Every gust of wind against the leaves was a howling moan, every rustle of the undergrowth a giant spider yao gathering itself to lunge. Jin Tianyu wanted to go home. He was going to be an accountant under the Chief Cultivator and help him change the world. Important things. Not like stupid night hunting.

He didn’t need night hunting experience to do math.

But his instructors disagreed. Even Madam Jin had shaken her head when he asked for an exemption, and explained that he needed to be able to defend himself. He’d already delayed too much by avoiding night hunting until he was eighteen, two years away from his coming of age. But what could he ever need to defend himself from in Koi Tower, save the cheek-pinching fingers of elderly relatives?

And if he had to go night hunting, why did it have to be with Fan Caining? If only their regular blademaster or even Madam Jin herself ran these things. Then he would feel safe and protected, and not like his class’ ostensible teacher, appointed to ensure the group made it back in one piece, would turn tail and flee should they run into anything more dangerous than a single ghost.

Which they would. Besides their target, a guai formed from a carpenter’s worktable that had become animated, killed its owner, and run off into the woods, there had been reports of multiple yao formed from clouded leopards in these woods.

Not to mention the giant spiders. Jin Tianyu had had one on the ceiling of his room last night, and his roommate had refused to take care of it for him, right before rolling over and going right to sleep! He’d been forced to suffer through chasing it away with a broom by himself, whimpering all the while. And that was without the massive growth spurt resentful energy gave them.

Fan Caining suddenly swept his sword through the undergrowth, clearing out an ordinary pack of rodents. As he did so, something growled in the woods up ahead.

“That should draw something out.” He informed the group, though they’d been taught in class that the best way to draw out a dangerous guai or yao was to choose a battleground by scouting during the day, and using a lure flag with a limited distance to reduce the risk of attracting anything else.

How a bunch of rodents would draw out a murderous worktable, Jin Tianyu did not know. But it might bring out those leopards!

The senior disciple had a build that seemed to be made of squares, which also described his personality. Flat and boring, with a few pointy spots that made him dangerous to cross. Jin Tianyu had learned that the hard way when he suggested they might, possibly want to scout beforehand, and Fan Caining hit him hard across the back with the flat of his sword. The bruise had yet to fade.

Sure enough, a leopard yao with glowing red eyes pounced on his slightly older cousin as they entered the next clearing. She shrieked and whacked at it with her sheathed sword while Jin Tianyu and everyone else gaped. Even Fan Caining.

As his tangjie managed to get her sword between herself and the leopard, Jin Tianyu shook off his shock and drew his sword. He held it in front of himself like a spear and charged, yelling. Sword pierced flesh with sickening squelch.

He’d screwed his eyes shut to avoid looking, he realized, and opened them. The leopard was dead alright, and his tangjie alive if covered in the leopard’s blood. But it seemed Fan Caining had recovered at the same time he did. Either Jin Tianyu stabbing its gut or it’s beheading could have done it in.

“Thanks.” Tangjie said, as she used his limp arm to pull herself up. “I was starting to think no one would step in.”

The dozen other junior disciples looked sheepish.

“Of course,” Fan Caining drew himself up prouder than any peacock in the Koi Tower gardens, though she hadn’t addressed him.

The groaning noise sounded again, this time cut off with a wail.

Fan Caining waved him and the other junior disciples ahead as though nothing was wrong.  Jin Tianyu cursed his luck for the thousandth time.

It was one of the outer disciples who first stepped in a trap. They tried to take another step, and found themselves immobilized at the edge of the clearing. Tangjie took a step forward and found herself shot up into the branches of the tree above. “I can’t — my hands are stuck to the branch!” She called down, in a panic.

Several other disciples moved to help, but found themselves in the same situation. Jin Tianyu’s limbs felt heavy, and he stood there dumb and immobile.

The groaning noise came again, but cut off in a laugh that could only come from a person.

Lilting laughter that sounded like his worst nightmare echoed through the clearing. Looking around, Jin Tianyu spotted a man dressed in black and silver reclining casually on a tree branch. Beautiful, in the way of jagged glass, only sharper. Like he would not only cut anything that got too close, but shred it into thin, unidentifiable slivers.

If I was better at verse, I could be a poet, and leave cultivation behind forever. Jin Tianyu thought absently.

The man looked familiar somehow, like he might have crossed paths with Jin Tianyu in passing. Except that Jin Tianyu had never left Lanling City before.

Fog rolled into the clearing, but only below the tree line, leaving the man clear and untouched above.

Jin Tianyu coughed. No, not fog. Powder.

Fan Caining stood in the center of the clearing, his sword shaking as he pointed it up towards the man. “Xue Yang? But you’re supposed to be —”

“Dead?” Xue Yang’s teeth shone white, bared in a threat, not a smile. “Yes, you did try very hard to make that happen. Too bad for you, I’m too crazy to die. Lucky for me, none of your friends are here this time to save you. Only a few tasty little children.”

To his surprise, Fan Caining did not try to run. Instead, he jumped up into the trees. “I can take you on my own, you weak little maniac.”

Xue Yang only laughed as he attacked.

Xue Yang. Jin Tianyu knew why he recognized him now. That was the former disciple brought in by the former sect leader, cast out by the current Chief Cultivator. The murderer of the Chang Clan.

He’d called them tasty.

Screw Fan Caining. They needed to get out of there.

Jin Tianyu tried to give himself leverage to get to his cousin by pushing against a tree, and found himself entirely turned around, no longer in the clearing.

He turned, and the trees seemed to spin around him. They continued to spin no matter how long he tried to stand still, stumbling, until finally he hit something solid and rough. A tree. He slid down it. Seated, his vision felt a little clearer.

He soon wished it wasn’t.

Something dropped from the tree to dangle in above Jin Tianyu. He dared to peak, and immediately regretted it.

The slack, inverted features of Fan Caining stared back, his eyes bulging from his head, tongue swollen and hanging from blue-tinged lips.

Jin Tianyu screamed.

He woke to Tangjie slapping his cheeks. “Tianyu! Tianyu, wake up!”

“What… what happened?” Jin Tianyu said groggily, as his memory began to return. He sat up straight. “Xue Yang!”

“He left, but I think there was something in that fog. You inhale the most of it, but all of us breathed in a little.” She explained. “We need to hurry back to the inn. The rest of the group has Cai-qianbei’s body. Come on, we need to go.”

She slung his arm around her neck, but as he stood, the vertigo returned in full force.

Somehow, they made it back to the inn, but he didn’t remember it.

A young man rose from a table, then he was doubled and tripled and on again. He wore gray, with a boar on his shoulder. That meant Nie. Jin Tianyu remembered that.

“Did the lot of you run all the way back here like that?”

“What?” Jin Tianyu asked, and the next thing he knew, the Nie disciple was keeping him upright by the elbow, taking his weight from Tangjie so she could collapse in a chair.

Jin Tianyu stared up into the Nie disciple’s face, at the angles of his defined cheekbones and jaw, with just the right amount of softness. Very symmetrical. He could do math with that face.

Pretty. He thought.

“Thank you.” The Nie disciple flashed him a smile that made him want to faint all over again. “You’ve got corpse poisoning. Let’s get some congee in you, now.”

He was seated and a bowl of congee appeared in front of him out of nowhere, as though it had already been prepared. Even though it was evening, and he didn’t think enough time had passed to make it.

Jin Tianyu couldn’t be sure, though. He was too busy floating, the only thing anchoring him to his body the burning pain on his tongue.

That faded as he forced down more of the bowl, and he realized it was chili. He could see the flakes reddening his bowl. Tangjie, who loved chili, had scarfed it down with no problem. Jin Tianyu tried to put down the bowl.

“No, no, you have to eat the whole thing for it to work.” The Nie disciple —who was even prettier now that his head was clearer — shoved the bowl back into his hands. “That was corpse powder you were poisoned with. You’ll die.”

Jin Tianyu shoveled the rest into his mouth.

The Nie disciple was tall. Very tall, as was the case for every Nie he’d seen with the sole exception of their current sect leader, but surprisingly thin, like he didn’t spend all his spare time building up the muscles the Nie were well known for. The hair braided up into his guan was lopsided, like he’d done it up without looking in a mirror. But even under the influence of the corpse powder, Jin Tianyu had been correct. His face was perfectly symmetrical, without a single blemish or pore to be found. It would have looked unnatural, were his perfect face not so expressive. His brows arched and lips pursed  sternly, but giving the impression that he was laughing.

“Now, would you mind telling me what happened?” His beautiful savior asked.

Speaking over each other, Jin Tianyu and the other disciples hurried to do so. But by the next morning, when they gathered to leave for Koi Tower, their savior was gone.

In Nie robes and a face that did not belong to him, Wei Wuxian did not receive a second glance until he first set foot in the Unclean realm. Once there, he constantly felt eyes boring into his back, but when he glanced over, he’d find disciples hard at work on their forms or their noses buried deep in texts. Which only went to prove their curiosity.

Even with Nie Huaisang for a sect leader, it wasn’t every day that a stranger was brought into the sect and handed a high-ranking position. But the Nie Sect had few elders, and those they had were aged and gray because with saber cultivation, it was the weak who survived the longest. It seemed the Nie elders were retired in truth, pursuing hobbies like needlework and whittling and nagging their grandchildren to eat more.

By the time Wei Wuxian arrived in the Unclean Realm, Nie Mingjue’s body had been hidden away, though not yet buried, for reasons known only to Nie Huaisang. No one said anything about that, either.

“And since I’m the weakest of the lot, I’ll live to be a hundred,” Nie Huaisang completed explaining his free reign to lead his sect however he chose, unparalleled by any other sect even a single generation past its founding as they approached the gates to the Unclean Realm.

Right before dropping a bomb on his head in the form of unwarranted and unwanted respectability. “My closest sect siblings know my motives if not my plans, so no one will oppose appointing you to the vacant position of fourth disciple.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian sputtered, tempted to check if Nie Huaisang was running a fever. “What happened to the last fourth disciple?”

Nie Huaisang snapped his fan closed, and opened it again, staring off into the distance.

Touchy subject. Understood. “Forget I asked.”

“Let’s just say Jin Guangyao owes the Nie Clan more than one life.” Nie Huaisang said, before dragging him through the gates and launching into a series of dramatic introductions that left his head spinning.

Apparently he was going by Nie Wang, courtesy Xiaomeng now.

Wei Wuxian had not been consulted on this. Walking around with everyone thinking his name was hope felt precisely in line with Nie Huaisang’s sense of humor.

True to form, Nie Huaisang did not deign to explain until he wanted something. Despite copious amounts of pleading, Wei Wuxian was forced to wait through a restless night of nightmares and a morning while his apparent new sect leader caught up on work to get his answers.

Finally, Nie Huaisang summoned him around lunch time. He was set up in a pavilion in the garden, with a mountain of paperwork. The garden had been designed by someone with an eye for showcasing Qinghe’s foliage. A lotus pond surrounded the pavilion, and though its cultivated beauty was no match for the wildness of Yunmeng’s lakes, the carefully selected flowers staggered through the surrounding paths were like hidden gems, each intended to stand on its own.

There were birds as well, goldfinches and many others kept there not by cages, but by the feeders full of seeds spread throughout.

“So,” Wei Wuxian said as he sprawled on a bench across the table from Nie Huaisang, who did not look up from his work to greet him. “I thought I was going to be a rogue cultivator. But apparently you had other ideas.”

“If you’re going to pull this off, the easiest way to wander around without notice is as one of my disciples. As a rogue cultivator, you might gather some recognition, get invited along to visit sects and so on. As one of mine, well, there are Nie disciples everywhere.” It was deeply disconcerting to watch Nie Huaisang take something seriously. And he was serious about that paperwork, not even looking up to speak. “They get bored of me, and travel.”

“They’re spies, aren’t they?”

He lifted his brush from a page with a flourish, and pinned it off to the side under a weight to dry, immediately moving onto the next one. “Are you saying I’m not irritating enough to make people need a break? I must have an ulterior motive? I’ll have to try harder.”

“Oh, you’re very irritating. They’re just extremely loyal.”

“After the Sunshot campaign and the losses we had during Dage’s decline, both to desertion and other causes. And then the prospect of me. Well, anyone who’s left is basically family.”

He gestured at Nie Xiaodan, at that moment crossing the bridge towards the pavilion.

Nie Xiaodan patted him on the head as she passed by. “Don’t forget to order lunch, Zongzhu.” She said, and returned to discussing a night hunt with her companion. It seemed she had come for that reminder only.

Nie Huaisang beamed.

“Fine, I’ll pretend to be your disciple.” Wei Wuxian wanted to pretend he’d been given a choice.

“Excellent! We can get you a saber easily enough.”

Uh. He had told him what Wen Qing said about his core, right? Wei Wuxian was often terrible at remembering tasks, but he distinctly recalled completing that one. “I’m banned from resentful energy, doctor’s orders.”

“Our smiths can make sabers without binding an animal spirit, you know. They do make other things.”

Wei Wuxian was summarily introduced to the blacksmiths, a married couple who looked him up and down intently and promptly got into an argument over the saber’s design. When he looked around for Nie Huaisang, the sneaky little spymaster was missing, because of course he was.

Attempts at interrupting failed to distract the couple from their debate over the pattern to be inscribed on the hilt, so Wei Wuxian settled against the wall to wait, and inadvertently took a nap.

He was prodded awake with the end of a (thankfully) unheated poker. “Infuse this with your energy,” The smith holding the poker growled, pointing towards a red-hot block of iron. Wei Wuxian did as requested, feeling only a slight protest from Xue Yang’s — his core.

Then, all he had to do was wait.

During the week it took for his new saber to be prepared, Wei Wuxian was not idle.

If he was going to imitate Xue Yang with no demonic cultivation and an extremely temperamental sword, Wei Wuxian needed tricks. Wen Qing had told him to invent something. But, Wei Wuxian thought, how better to create the illusion of evil tricks than to use something that actually existed.

He had drawn one idea from the stage. Why not the methods for a few more?

Within a day of verbalizing his plan, Wei Wuxian drowned under a sea of texts pulled from the shelves of the Nie library and from the private records of Qinghe’s theater and dance troops. Thanks to Nie Huaisang’s generous patronage, Wei Wuxian had been able to request manuals on the techniques in common between troops, rather than their family secrets. The tricks to raising and lowering a curtain on an improvised stage and to building a smoke bomb in a desired hue for a start.

The combination of practical optical illusions and talismans seemed particularly promising.

The smoke bombs were the easiest, simply a matter of mixing powders together in a casing and setting them on fire. Fun for him, but since he managed to irritate someone no matter where he set them off, Wei Wuxian moved on.

Combining his binding talisman and a sticking talisman, he stuck a disciple to the roof of the library.

(A volunteer, since it wasn’t as though Jiang Cheng was there. Or speaking to him.)

The force holding him in place was a standard talisman, nothing Wei Wuxian had invented, but the disciple struggled against it like he’d never learned how to counter it. Which he probably hadn’t, given how little thought most cultivators gave them beyond wards and the ubiquitous ones for keeping tea warm or sending brief messages.

Which was precisely why Wei Wuxian might just pull this off.

He thought about pulleys and spirit nets, and the next day, he inscribed the talismans within a pressure-triggered array, and sent himself flying upwards. Followed by a plethora of curious volunteers.

What had he expected, though? The Nie were a sect full of adrenaline junkies. Even the first disciple came around for a turn. After that, Wei Wuxian found himself with company and conversation at every meal.

Even so, he never forgot he was wearing a mask. Every night after a long day of study, the mask weighed heavy on his face, leaving him with a headache. He found it easier to ward his door, than keep it on while he slept. Then, and only then, was it safe to be himself.

Many of the most useful tricks required more practice, such as projecting sounds so they seemed to come from a different source. Wei Wuxian practiced each, over and over again, until he felt he had it. And then put on a demonstration.

When he could pull off a trick successfully in front of the little Nie Disciples, he knew he had managed it. If he still couldn’t fool Nie Huaisang, well, Huaisang was Huaisang.

He couldn’t be held to mortal standards.

That left one more problem, perhaps the most challenging.

Along with the skin mask, Xue Yang’s bag had contained: two changes of clothes, a small pouch of silver, a large coil of rope, and several heavy bags full of corpse powder.

Obviously, Wei Wuxian wasn’t actually going to use corpse powder on anyone. That could get messy fast, if anyone else was around, with no guarantee he’d be able to serve the antidote in time. Yet it seemed like corpse powder was a common part of Xue Yang’s modus operandi.

If he didn’t use it, would Jin Guangyao suspect something was off? There was no way of telling.

The problem niggled at the back of his mind all week long, whether he was becoming one with the library or getting caught in his own rope trap. But he got no closer to finding a solution.

Until finally, during breakfast on the day Wei Wuxian was to receive his saber, he sat staring into his congee, stirring it absently.

And had a brilliant idea.

Somehow, having a potential solution took the edge off his nerves, and he was able to hold Yuanzheng for the first time while only making a bit of a fool of himself. To his relief, it didn’t feel like Suibian, though the long, thin saber was also designed for agility rather than power.

Yuanzheng

did feel like a weapon he could use, not the dead, draining weight Suibian had become or the repulsion of Jiangzai. Like it might become an extension of his arm in time, with Suibian and Chenqing out of reach. Wei Wuxian teared up a little, as he went through a series of exercises for the first time in years, and did not pass out.

For the first time, his resurrection really felt like a second chance. The beginning of the long journey he’d named his saber for, with a slim chance that light in the distance was the end of the tunnel. With family and zhiji waiting on the other end.

He had better make it count.

From the privacy of his own room that night, he pulled out his Distance Speaking Stone, and called up Wen Qing. “Hey, disorienting powder can be cleared from the system with congee like corpse powder, right?”

With construction on watchtowers set to begin in several sects, there was little for Jiang Yanli to do on the project but wait. Yet she couldn’t remain idle with only her sect responsibilities and A-Ling to occupy her time. Not if she intended to make herself — or rather, Qin Su — a credible power in her own right, someone who had a chance of being believed when it came time to reveal Jin Guangyao’s crimes.

She needed a new project. Something Jin Guangyao had yet to present a plan for, something Qin Su would get all the credit for.

Word arrived that a Jin disciple had been murdered by Xue Yang, the juniors he had been escorting barely escaping with their lives. The pair of Jin cousins with the rare tea feud (under a temporary ceasefire in favor of vengeance against the Chief Cultivator for the allowance cut, so far consisting of attempts to convince the servants to put laxatives in his tea, which the servants would not do, out of a desire to remain among the living) fainted dead away at the news.

Jiang Yanli, already aware of this through her brother, attempted to look appropriately horrified.

Jin Guangyao paled, and for a moment, lost his composure. Ice in his eyes and steel in the set of his jaw, there and gone again in a blink. Mask back into place but still off balance, he cut off the junior disciples’ explanation of their rescue from corpse powder mid sentence. He immediately sent off three teams of disciples to track down Xue Yang and bring back his body.

“I thought Xiandu always heard all explanations to the end.” A messenger from Fengyang Hua whispered to a group consisting of the wards from Lieshan Du, Zhai Xia, and Mo Xuanyu’s ever-present suitors.

Not always, rumor would now say. Even Xiandu is afraid of something.

Even with fear in the air over the return of Xue Yang — for everyone had a horror story to tell of his time in Koi Tower, mostly to do with dismembered animals in places that were decidedly not the kitchen — Jiang Yanli found she had finally settled into her role.

One day, the paperwork ran out, and Jiang Yanli found herself with an afternoon free. A novel experience, since her return. It was a perfect opportunity to brainstorm her next step.

If only she could dredge up the barest hint of an idea. But her mind felt like a dried-up creek in a drought.

“I was thinking of going to the tailor in the city, Xiao-Heng is growing like a demon and needs more new clothes. Would you like to come with me?”

I bet we’re not thinking of anything because we’re trying too hard. Qin Su said.

As much as Jiang Yanli hated to admit it, she had a point. A-Xian always said that he had his best ideas the moment he stopped trying to force a solution. The difficulty lay in not thinking about it.

I have a solution for that. My beloved nephew is quite the attention hog.

“A-Ling’s robes have been looking rather short.” She said aloud.

Qi Juan beamed, and began tucking her son in his sling. He was soon to outgrow it, and had just reached the troublesome learning to crawl stage.

Kidnapping her son from his lessons was a thrill, though it was the work of a moment. The sour-faced calligraphy instructor dismissed A-Ling with visible relief, and the reminder that A-Ling was still expected to produce ten copies of poems at the next class. Without blotches of ink covering half the page, or brush strokes of uneven width.

A-Ling stuck out his tongue behind the instructor’s back, and ran to grab her hand, already chattering about how he wanted to bring back sticks of tanghulu for the entire class.

“My sweet, grumpy boy,” She ruffled his hair, and he scowled, attempting to push it back into place, but only displacing his top knot further. Just like his jiujiu.

The main streets of Lanling were cleaner than she remembered from six years ago. The shops lining the main street had all recently been given a fresh coat of paint, proprietors and customers alike looking healthier and more prosperous.  Jin Guangyao had reformed the city’s taxes, on the basis that letting the common people keep more of their earnings now would bring the sect more profit in the long term. More than one person recognized her as Madam Jin, and called out a respectful greeting with a smile. At least on a surface level, his plan had begun to work.

There were fewer brothels now as well, reduced by half. The madams who had refused to start allowing their workers to pay off their contracts had been driven out of business or died in mysterious fires. (In some cases, but not all, the workers mysteriously escaped unscathed.) As A-Ling towed her along to a hawker with a tower of tanghulu, she passed an empty lot with the blackened foundations still visible. The buildings next to it were under repair, one of which seemed to have sustained considerable damage to the living quarters on the second floor.

As she looked around more closely, she saw an emaciated old man begging from the entrance of an alley, a woman in what had once been a set of fine performance robes soliciting passerby, and scruffy children lurking in dark corners.

Despite Jin Guangyao’s claims of working towards progress, there were still street children in Lanling.

Making a home for the orphans of Lanling had been a project dear to A-Xuan’s heart, in the last months of his life. Impending fatherhood had made him more perceptive in many ways, more so even than the changes he underwent during the Sunshot campaign. But when she was preganant, her husband had taken her by the arms and informed her with great distress that there are children in the streets, Yanli! Children!

Jiang Yanli had thought better late than never and helped him come up with a plan. She had her own reasons to take an interest in the care of orphans and poor children, after all.

Jin Guangshan had probably signed the funding out of the budget on an advisor’s word, not having been informed how his son and daughter-in-law were spending the clan’s funds in the first place.

Jin Guangyao would not have gotten rid of such a program, she thought, as she fished a coin so her son could get as sticky with sugar as his little heart desired.

Qin Su did not quite agree. No, he would have replaced it with something similar, that he could claim the credit for.

True. But he hadn’t — which meant there was room for Jiang Yanli to fill the gap.

After a moment of thought, she purchased a second stick, and handed it to Qi Juan.

“You looked like you could use it.” She told her.

Qi Juan bit down delicately on the candy-coated hawthorn, but couldn’t avoid the satisfying crunch. And laughed, as parts of the coating cracked, and fell from her lips. “All right. I haven’t had something like this since… before the Sunshot Campaign, probably. Certainly not since my family came up in the world and married me off. You look like you could use one too.”

“Do I?” Jiang Yanli had often thought that helping others feel better was its own reward.

It would make me feel better to taste something sweet. Qin Su said in a blatant attempt to get Jiang Yanli to treat herself. Sweet-sweet though, not hawthorn berries.

I think that stall might be selling lotus mooncakes.” Though the mid-autumn festival had already past, there was never a wrong time for a mooncake.

It was a mistake to mention heaven’s favorite root in front of Jin Ling. “Lotus!” He shouted. “Pleasepleaseplease mooncake mooncake!” And would not let up until she bought him one, in addition to three for herself.

“That’s more than enough sugar for one day, young man.” She informed him as she took a bite of her own mooncake, wrapping the others in a cloth for later.

A-Ling grinned toothily up at her, mooncake leaking lotus paste in one hand, half eaten tanghulu in the other, and the glint of sugar all over his cheeks.

Perhaps she should have insisted he wait until after their errand for his treats, but Jiang Yanli did not possess the earned resistance to his adorable whims of a mother who had gotten to see her child grow. Who could blame her, if she spoiled him a little? “Do you think the tailor will still let us in the shop?”

“It’s not so bad,” Qi Juan said, just as A-Ling smushed the rest of the mooncake in his hand, and shoved it in his face. She grimaced. “I’m certain Tailor Ke has seen worse.”

Indeed, Tailor Ke, a woman who knew her way around hanfu, if the way the one she was wearing flattered her extensive curves meant anything, did not blink an eye. “If you could wipe off the young master’s hands, please, Jin-furen?”

Jiang Yanli took the offered wet handkerchief, and wiped the stickiness off of a protesting A-Ling. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to damage any of your lovely merchandise.”

Sadly, the more vibrant fabrics could not be chosen for A-Ling, who would be consigned to golden peacocks and peonies on off-white for as long as he lived. As a married-in spouse, however, Jiang Yanli had more leeway with under robes. The pale pink of Laoling Qin tempered the gold, making it almost palatable.

Qi Juan freely admired a swatch of vivid green fabric, in precisely the right shade for her natal sect. A daring choice, if it was for her son. Perhaps a sign that Qi Juan would be receptive to opposing her husband.

Tailor Ke bustled around, assembling the appropriate silks in Jin colors for Jiang Yanli’s inspection herself.

“Have you been short handed lately?” She asked as ideas for how, exactly, she would go about outdoing Jin Guangyao in reform measures began to coalesce in her mind.

“Have I ever! There’s all this new demand for clothing and not enough suitable apprentices to go around! Everyone’s looking, not just me.” She dropped a stack of fabrics on the table with a grunt. “Jin-gongzi’s order will take priority, of course.”

She shook her head. Naturally an order from the sect leader’s wife would be prioritized, but there was no need. “Please put Bei-gongzi’s order ahead of mine. A-Ling can get a bit more use out of his robes, but Bei-gongzi won’t fit into his if he grows anymore. And only the peony for embroidery. If it’s any more elaborate, A-Ling will inevitably ruin the robes the first time he wears them.”

“Yes, Jin-furen.” Tailor Ke agreed. “It won’t take more than a week, all told. Kid’s clothes work up fast.”

“And wear out faster.” She sighed as A-Ling chose that moment to snag his sleeve on a nail. “What are you looking for, in an apprentice?”

Many craftspeople would have been hesitant to answer, but Tailor Ke was happy to babble on as she began to drape fabrics over A-Ling’s shoulders, critiquing and sorting them to find the least aesthetically terrible combinations. “Oh, someone who’s quick with their hands, with some basic sewing and embroidery skills. I don’t have time to teach basics, but the rest can come along in time. Someone to do the books for me would also be a dream. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, though fortunately I can still stitch a straight seam without looking.”

That seemed like simple enough requirements, easily fulfilled with a little education. Though orphans were pulled of the street from time to time, it was usually for menial positions they would lose the moment something went wrong. Or if they were very lucky, to take care of an old, childless widow. Re-instituting A-Xuan’s program and improving upon it — that could be a very real way to distinguish Qin Su in the eyes of not only the Jin Sect, but the cultivation world.

The children could not only learn skills to help find employment, but be tested for cultivation potential.

The sects were always complaining about how difficult it was to recruit new talent. Executed properly, Jiang Yanli could make Qin Su look not only kind-hearted, but clever, reputable, and forward thinking, with the best interests of the sect she had married into at heart.

Even if the actual Qin Su fantasized about burning down Koi Tower on a regular basis.

Hey.

What? It was true.

Qin Su huffed. A semi-regular basis, maybe. And I would never actually. I wouldn’t actually ruin the whole of Lanling’s economy or put the servants and juniors out of house and home.

My apologies then. She suppressed a laugh.

Would there really be enough apprenticeships to go around, though? Qin Su sent numbers bouncing around her mind as she attempted the mental math, but got lost without paper.

Perhaps not. But larger farms could use workers, manors could use servants, and affordable bookkeepers were always in short supply. It could, at least, give them a better start.

“Shenshen look! I’m all twirly!” A-Ling giggled as he spun, the silk draped over him spinning out and threatening to knock over the tailor’s basket of supplies. Jiang Yanli tried not to smile, knowing she would need to scold him later, and prepared to pay for the entire bolt.

“We should discuss the problem with your sword.” Wen Qing said one night through the softly glowing Distance Speaking Stone. A-Xian had popped in earlier, briefly, but he was busy following the second of the Jin disciples on Xue Yang’s list, learning the habits of the group they were part of before he could lead them into a trap.

Jiang Yanli stared into her evening tea. “Must we?”

“Wei Wuxian isn’t having trouble with his new saber. The problem must be that Chunsheng doesn’t fully recognize you as Qin Su.”

“I can’t just get rid of her sword.” That wasn’t done.

<We are not getting rid of Chunsheng.> Qin Su said from inside her paperman. She’d been bent over a copy of some of A-Xian’s notes, researching something she had yet to explain.

“You’re basically unprotected. What if something —” Wen Qing cut herself off, surprisingly panicked.

Replacing a sword would garner more attention than A-Xian had in refusing to carry Suibian around. Whether they would somehow determine the truth or spread rumors about a disastrous fallout with the Qin clan, everyone would know something was off.

Still, it was sweet of her to worry. “Any sword is more protection than I had in my last life, Wen Qing.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” She sounded so forlorn that Jiang Yanli ached with the desire to fall into her arms and rub circles into her back until she slept, and even after. “But I worry.”

So did she, far too often. There was no end to worrying, it seemed. Not even after death. “Does A-Xian have any ideas about the talisman keeping you trapped?”

Wen Qing hesitated. “I haven’t let him look at it yet.”

“A-Qing!” A slip of the tongue, in her shock.

Wen Qing’s breath caught. “I’m not letting him put my life before his again. When we’re closer —”

“Last time you put his life before yours, he died anyways.” Jiang Yanli snapped. And sighed. “I’m sorry, that was unfair. It’s just — if you’re allowed to worry for me, I get to worry for you.”

“A little longer. Then I’ll speak to him.”

She could tell that was the best she was going to get. “If you don’t, I’ll tell him myself.”

Jiang Yanli was tired of watching the people she cared about tear themselves apart. She wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

Wen Qing let out a shaky, hiccupping laugh. “That seems fair.”

[pangzi]

Otome gay [Nielan] - Chapter 4 EXTRA

word count: 2053 a/n: Nielan’s accidental carnival date but from lxc’s point of view

Xichen wasn’t a big fan of carnivals, mostly because most people preferred going on the rollercoasters and he didn’t necessarily enjoy how fast or high they went. Still, when Meng Yao asked to go together, he said yes. He wanted to spend some time with his best friend, A-Yao wouldn’t force him to go on rides probably, so they could just play some games, have a snack and go home. 

When they arrived, the place was flooded with people already. So nearly bumping into Mingjue was quite the surprise. He froze as soon as he saw him, his heart racing in his chest. Gods, he was so crazy about this man already. He had hoped to see him soon, but he hadn’t really expected to see him until their date, and then just finding him here accidentally in this crowded place, a huge surprise. 

“Hey”, Mingjue said.

“Hey”, he replied, reaching towards Meng Yao, who had walked on, to pull him back. 

He was so excited about seeing Mingjue again, about his best friend finally meeting his crush. But then some other guy walked up behind Mingjue, wrapping an arm around his shoulders with a smile, and Xichen felt his heart drop. Maybe A-Yao had been right all along? 

Mingjue shrugged the arm off with a huff. “Zonghui, this is Xichen. Xichen, this is my best friend Zonghui.”

Oh, the best friend. Of course! He mentally kicked himself for being so damn insecure. He should trust Mingjue, and even if it wasn’t his best friend. They weren’t officially dating he shouldn’t be offended by Mingjue keeping his options open. Xichen was sure he could find someone better than him easily. 

He shook Zonghui’s hand and then pulled Meng Yao closer. “This is my best friend Meng Yao. A-Yao this is Mingjue”

“I’ve heard a lot about you”, Meng Yao said. Xichen felt his face heat up immediately so he elbowed his friend softly to shut him up.

Moments later, Mingjue got jumped by his little brother, everything after that was quite a blur as suddenly they were walking up to probably the biggest, fastest rollercoaster there was tonight and Xichen felt himself start to panic slowly.

“Do you like rollecoasters”, he asked Mingjue carefully, hoping he would say no and they could maybe just stay behind together.

“They’re fun”, Mingjue shrugged. Shit, so the chance of just staying here with him was small. “But I prefer the games, I only ride the rollercoasters because Huaisang likes them so much. Do you like them?”

He truthfully shook his head. His hands were shaking by now and he felt his stomach twist and turn. “I hate them, they’re too fast and I always get sick” Not wanting to stay behind, though, he followed everyone towards the ticket booth. When Huaisang started counting everyone to buy tickets, he felt his knees buckle. 

Suddenly, there was a hand on his wrist. “A-Sang, Xichen and I are going to go pass on this one”, he heard Mingjue yell, “My stomach doesn’t agree with the hotdog I just had, Xichen and I will go play some games over there instead! Have fun, text us when you’re about to get on” He felt relief wash over him as Mingjue pulled him away. He felt kind of bad leaving Meng Yao behind, but his friend would understand. 

As soon as Mingjue’s hand slipped from his wrist and into his hand, Xichen’s mind short-circuited for a moment. He intertwined their fingers with a giddy smile on his face.

“Thank you”

“For holding your hand”, Mingjue asked, he looked so confused. Xichen had never seen a man cuter in his entire life and he just wanted to grab his face and kiss him. 

Instead, he laughed and squeezed his hand softly. “And for not letting me get on that ride and regretting it for the rest of the evening.”

The smirk he got in return nearly made him trip over his own feet. “Maybe I just wanted to get you to myself, and you gave me the perfect reason”, Mingjue joked and Xichen might not die from riding a rollercoaster, but he was sure somewhere along this evening this man was going to say something and his heart would just stop for real. 

“Maybe I’m not scared of rollercoasters at all, but I made it up so you would rescue me and then I’d have you all for myself”, Xichen argued, trying to come over just as smooth.

“I thought you were raised not to tell lies” 

Ah, busted. “You got me there”, he laughed, pulling Mingjue towards the first game he saw.

Every single game they played became a fun competition, bickering about who would be better, boasting about how good they were at a game. Xichen had never had this great a time at a carnival. On their way to a next game, they passed the prize booth. He didn’t even really mean to look over, but his eye was caught by a stuffed toy. A tiger to be precise. He wasn’t sure why, but the first thing he thought when he saw it was that it reminded him of Mingjue. He kept his mouth shut about it, though. Feeling kind of foolish to like a plushie for that reason, Mingjue would probably think it’s weird. 

They had played so many games when they finally had to join the others again. Apparently Huaisang had convinced everyone they just go on another ride, as he had been sure Mingjue and Xichen wouldn’t want to get on that one either. Xichen made a mental note to thank him for that. 

Holding Mingjue’s hand had felt normal the entire time it had just been the two of them, hands finding each other as soon as both of their hands were free. Yet, now that they joined the rest again, he suddenly felt very nervous and self conscious about it, so he let his hand drop out of Mingjue’s grip. He was glad the other didn’t say anything about it.

Then suddenly, Mingjue had disappeared with Zonghui and Xichen felt nervous again. It was already passed the time he and Meng Yao had planned to go home, he didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. 

So, when ten minutes later, Meng Yao started asking if they could go home and Mingjue still wasn’t back yet, he felt quite upset. 

“Let’s go, Xichen-ge”, Meng Yao said, “It’s too late already, he probably isn’t coming back” He looked at his friend with pleading eyes, but Meng Yao seemed quite annoyed already. So after waiting for five more minutes, he agreed to go home. 

Meng Yao really wasn’t impressed nor pleased with Mingjue. “What a prick”, he hissed, “chatting you up like that, taking you away from everyone and then leaving all of a sudden with his so called best friend” He sounded so mad and Xichen really didn’t understand why. “He’s probably fucking the dude somewhere right now, disgusting jock. They’re all the same, Xichen, I tell you” 

Xichen felt his stomach churn again. Meng Yao had warned him for the type of guy he thought Mingjue was multiple times before. Although he had been right about guys in the past, this time Xichen’s gut feeling just really didn’t agree. But maybe that was because he liked Mingjue so much, because he wanted him to be the exact opposite. Just like always, Xichen realised… But in his defense, he had never been so sure about anyone that they were a good person than he had been about Mingjue. 

“Maybe he just had to go to the bathroom and there was a long line”, Xichen said, trying to stay positive. 

Meng Yao huffed. “Right, then he would’ve said something. Just believe me, he’s a fuckboy, he had his fun with you and now he can have his fun with Zonghui” He wanted to say something to defend Mingjue, but A-Yao didn’t let him. “Have I ever been wrong, Xichen?” 

“No”, Xichen sighed, his heart hurting already. Why did he always seem to fall for the wrong guys? 

He almost thought he was imagining things when he suddenly heard Mingjue call his name as they were about to reach the exit. The corners of his mouth went up a little bit by themselves as he laid eyes on the man, the tiger plushie he had seen before in his arms. His heart jumped a bit at the sight of it, he didn’t say anything, though, as he reached the man. 

“I went to get this for you, I saw you looking at it before so I thought- Anyway when I came back you were gone”, Mingjue said, “I’m glad I still caught you, I’m sorry I disappeared.” 

Xichen hesitated a moment before taking the toy from him. He wrapped his arms tightly around it, barely holding back from pressing his face in it. Only now he noticed how tired he was. “Thank you”, he murmured, trying not to sound too exhausted from the ride of emotions he went through this evening.

“We should go, Xichen is tired”, Meng Yao snapped next to him, before stomping off. 

Xichen knew Meng Yao would be mad at him later for accepting the plushie, but he didn’t care. He grabbed Mingjue’s arm and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “See you soon, Mingjue. I love the tiger”, he said before leaving.

As soon as he caught up with his friend, he immediately got told off. “I can’t believe you fell for that”, Meng Yao said, rolling his eyes before repeating Mingjue’s words with a mocking voice. “I got this for you, I saw you looking at it before barf! Sorry I disappeared yeah sure! It’s all a trick to keep you thinking he’s a good guy, I’m telling you Xichen” 

Meng Yao kept going the entire time home, trying to convince him that Zonghui was in love with Mingjue. That Zonghui had said people come to their gym just because of Mingjue and that probably meant he fucked them all. That Xichen was probably just another side toy for him. 

He knew his friend meant well, but Xichen just wished he wouldn’t try so hard to make him feel bad about liking Mingjue. He started to doubt himself, his feelings for Mingjue. He was so tired, so exhausted of his feelings and thoughts being all over the place all evening, he just wanted to go to bed. He wanted to tell Meng Yao to shut up and just drive him home. But that wouldn’t work, so he didn’t, and the onslaught on Mingjue just kept going. Meng Yao was drawing conclusions from everything anyone had said all evening. 

Apparently Wei Wuxian getting excited about Mingjue pulling Xichen away and yelling go get some meant that Mingjue was a player. Huaisang had said things about his brother being insistent on him studying hard and getting good grades, that he got mad when Huaisang failed his courses, and according to Meng Yao that meant he was abusive and a bad brother. Xichen’s head was spinning, he couldn’t keep up with his friend’s logic, he was too tired to think about it. 

He couldn’t get out of the car fast enough when they drove up to his house, saying a quick goodbye to his friend before nearly sprinting inside. His head felt like it was going to burst. He threw the plushie on his bed as he put on his nightwear and brushed his teeth. 

Finally getting into bed, his feelings were still all over the place. He mostly just wanted to cry himself to sleep from frustration, but as he saw the tiger, he couldn’t help but pull it against his chest tightly, pressing his face into it. It smelled faintly like Mingjue’s perfume. He smiled against it, he really liked the smell. Eyes drooping already, he quickly snapped a picture of himself with the toy and sent it to Mingjue with a good night text. 

He really liked this man, he decided, and he should give him a chance. If he really was as horrible a person as Meng Yao said he was, he would find out soon enough, for now he would enjoy just being in love with this seemingly wonderful, chaotic man.

[needtherapy]

soaring, carried aloft on the wind...continued 14

A story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13   Part 2: 14 / … HOME

It’s complete on AO3 here.

Notes: Check the tags if you’re concerned about the pairings ;)

For translations of the entirely fictitious Beifeng language, you’ll have to scroll to notes. I’m only going to translate something that’s not clear in the text. Sadly, there’s just not any other good way to do it on Tumblr!

Part 2 Hoakora

hoakora [hō-ä-kō’rä], noun Affectionate regard or friendship between equals

Chapter 14: Now

Xichen pulls the hood of his fur-lined coat over his head before tucking an arm behind his back and following Qingyang out into the snow. He is used to the snow, but winter on the flat land is very different than it had been on the mountain, Xichen thinks. It was not as cold here, but the shearing wind had the bite of dragons in it, and the snow piled high in drifts around the tents. Xichen would not have gone out into this weather at all, but Qingyang had asked for his help. Fortunately, they don’t have far to go.

Even from twenty paces, Xichen can hear the raised voices, and he stifles a smile. Qingyang, on the other hand, grimaces and hunches her shoulders. She hates stepping between two tigers.

“You don’t reduce pay in winter,” Huaisang yells. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“But why would you pay your army more during an armistice in winter? You feed them, you clothe them. They are idle, Oringa'anhu Ikira, and you are not even encouraging them to be productive.”

Huaisang slams his hand down on a table, and Xichen raises his eyebrows. In the seven months he’s lived with the Ikarahu, he’s never seen Huaisang angry, although, he isn’t sure he is seeing him angry now. There is a sparkle in his eyes that does not speak of anger.

“They are riding formations, they are training in this bitter cold, and they are existing in this forsaken country. They have more than earned their pay.”

Guangyao rolls his eyes, brandishing a leather-bound account book. “Then pay the cavalry extra, but do not pay everyone extra. You will bleed your coffers dry before springtime.”

“If I only raise the cavalry’s pay, how will I explain that to the archers who protect the skies or the foot soldiers who guard their flanks? Or the people who fletch arrows, feed the horses, check their coats, pick their feet, watch for colic, oil their saddles? You pay the soldiers to protect the cavalry, the hostlers to care for the cavalry, and you pay the cavalry to win wars. You may be the Jin clan heir, but apparently, you don’t know the first thing about maintaining a successful army.”

Xichen winces. There are a few things Guangyao is likely to be genuinely offended by, and Huaisang is tiptoeing along an unkind path.

“Anati, Guangyao, will you join us for lunch?” he asks, and the two men look at him with identically aggravated expressions as though they had not noticed he was there.

It is interesting to see them both turn into different people; Huaisang’s expression melts into mirth and Guangyao’s shifts to solicitude.

“Ahora'ipa, did you make food? You know the way to my heart,” Huaisang is always cheerful about food.

Xichen opens the basket he is carrying and takes out the tureen of hot soup.

“Of course I did not make it. Thankfully, you pay your kitchens well,” he teases, smiling at Guangyao, who smiles back ruefully, just the corners of his mouth tipping up, but still revealing the deep dimples that always make him seem younger.

Huaisang is gracious in his triumph, and serves out four bowls of meaty soup at the table in Guangyao’s tent, pushing aside a stack of account ledgers. It is a smaller living space than Xichen’s, more sparsely appointed, yet somehow messier and more inhabited. Books sit open on the bed, and there are papers in piles on every flat surface, some scribbled on, some not. It is one of the contradictions of this man Xichen finds fascinating, that he can be so meticulous in his person, but so disorderly in his space.

“Huaisang, we are bribing you with lunch. I finished the drawings you requested, and if you want changes, I will need to know now,” Qingyang informs him, and Huaisang nods, slurping soup enthusiastically. “And Xichen is here to teach the guqin, so you will need to leave Guangyao alone.”

It had been clear from the beginning that Huaisang’s position in the Ikarahu command was more than merely symbolic, but he usually preferred to hide his intelligence behind a mask of frivolity, and Xichen let him pretend. He tried not to notice the piercing way he watched Guangyao when he thought no one was looking, the soldiers in dark clothes that sometimes came with Huaisang to retrieve Mingjue in the night, or, most damning, Qingyang’s respect for him.

The only time Xichen had seen him reveal what lurked beneath his lighthearted demeanor had been that drunken night, and Huaisang has not said anything about his older sister since then. Xichen hasn’t asked, but the sorrowful words sit at the front of his mind every day.

She is lost to us forever. What else should we do?

Since Guangyao has been here, though, it has changed something in Huaisang, as though he was shooting arrows into the sky before and is now staring at a target. His clever mind has sharpened in a way that could either be productive or disastrous, and Xichen isn’t sure which way he will land.

The voice in the doorway surprises Xichen out of his thoughts, and he is vaguely aware that Guangyao, sitting next to him, straightens his back slightly.

“Edas ahora, I have a gift for you!”

Mingjue strides over to Xichen and kisses him enthusiastically, despite Huaisang’s dramatic groan.

“Will you come see?” he asks, and Xichen pretends to hesitate.

“Outside? In the snow? Ipira’orhew Ikira, you are too cruel.”

Mingjue grins, and Xichen has to fold his hands together to keep from touching his face. “I am. Very. I will prove it later. But first, gift.”

Xichen laughs and gets up. “I resent being threatened, Ipira’orhew Ikira. Perhaps I will be cruel later.”

“I hate you both,” Huaisang grumbles, but he follows them, his curiosity greater than his distaste for being a younger brother.

“Mingjue.” Xichen stares blankly at the shape in the snow, his gift for intelligent language—or any intelligent thought at all—failing. “It’s a horse.”

It was, in fact, a beautiful horse, dark grey with a pattern of light speckles dappling its coat. It looks strong and sturdy, and there is a curious glint in its eyes. The horse pokes Xichen in the chest and huffs a breath of visible air at him, a lock of black mane falling between its ears.

“Oh, another horse,” Huaisang says dryly. “It’s too cold to look at another horse.” He disappears back inside the tent, narrowly avoiding the snow Mingjue throws at him.

“Ta odinga is Liebing,” Mingjue tells Xichen, his excitement coming out in a confusing mix of Orera and Yuyan. “She looks like a cloud. Et irakas ta dakia. She moves well, ani? Mares are better than stallions in war, Xichen. You...hm...em ekos eko em amaka.”

If he does not stop him, Mingjue will tell him every detail of this horse in two languages, so Xichen leans against him and snuggles an arm around his waist. “I am already not disappointed.”

“She is a galau,” Mingjue says proudly, although Xichen doesn’t know what that means. Mingjue notices Xichen’s puzzled look and explains, “She is a wind horse of our mountains and came when I called.”

He whistles to demonstrate, and the mare perks up her ears, swinging her head to him and chuffing as though in answer. Xichen is appropriately awed. The Ikarahu value all horses, but Xichen hadn’t realized that more than only Mingjue’s beautiful black mare would answer his command. He wonders if it is magic or training or some other ingrained horse understanding.

“She is beautiful, ahoraho. Tiras mau,” Xichen says, and tips his head to be kissed. “Yes, she is marvelous. Wherever did you acquire this magnificent creature?” Guangyao asks from behind them, polite, but with an unusual edge of sarcasm.

Guangyao often uses his largest words around Mingjue, but Mingjue always seems to think Guangyao’s attempts to confuse him are amusing. Xichen isn’t sure if Guangyao does it in spite of Mingjue’s reaction or because of it.

As always, Mingjue laughs, a deep belly-driven chortle, grinning at Guangyao. “Horses can be found anywhere, Yao-ti.” Xichen closes his eyes and does not laugh as he realizes why the horse has a Yuyan name. “Ahoraho, did you steal this horse?”

Mingjue widens his eyes and tries to look as innocent as a warlord in armor can look. “I do not know this word, ‘steal.’ I will need to ask anati.”

They both turn at the snorting laughter from behind them. Even Guangyao seems startled by his outburst, because he breaks off as soon as they look at him.

“Excuse me. I must apologize to Oringa'anhu Ikira. His hostlers are worth every penny if they can keep up with Chifeng-Zun’s capacity for finding horses wherever he looks.” Guangyao looks innocent, but there are sudden teeth in his words Xichen doesn’t fully understand. He is not quite angry, not quite longing, but something sardonic in between.

Not for the first time, Xichen wonders who Jin Guangyao really is.

Notes: Oringa'anhu Ikira = This is Huaisang’s title, but the translation is in the next chapter. ;) Edas ahora. = Beloved husband (which Xichen is still mistranslating as “beloved man”) Ta odinga is Liebing. = Her name is Liebing. Et irakas ta dakia. = Her legs are strong. You...hm...em ekos eko em amaka. = You will not be disappointed. -ti is an affectionate pet name diminutive

[miyu-hyperfixates]

Water ghouls AU!

[Part 0.5: Meeting Wei Ying]

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

Madam Yu and Madam Jin were in Yiling for a night hunt, where they encounter kid!WWX being chased by a group of dogs. Seeing the kid cornered and trying to protect his very small bun... Both of them couldn’t help but think of their own children in such a position and went to chase the dogs away.

Madam Jin actually brought WWX two other buns.

WWX of course was very grateful towards the two very kind [AN: I think it’s the first time I’m using Madam Yu and kind in the same sentence, pff] aunties... And when he saw that they carried swords his eyes went very wide, before hastily rummaging through the pockets of his dirty clothes. He pulled out a talisman and gave it to Madam Yu, beaming, “Here auntie, a lucky charm for you!” 

Both Madam Yu and Madam Jin looked intrigued by the ‘lucky charm’ that was actually a talisman. But they were unfamiliar with the sigils on it, and considering the slightly childish handwriting, both of them guessed that it might have been the kid’s work. It was more than probable that the kid’s parents were cultivators and he saw them writing talismans and wanted to copy them... Of course, to his small mind the sigils were probably no different from gibberish. And so he thought that he had made a proper “lucky charm” and decided to gave it the kind aunties as thanks.

Even Madam Yu had to admit that the kid was cute and endearing. So she took the talisman, thanks him and shoo him away.   [Because she could be kind from time to time, but not that kind and besides they still have a ferocious beast to hunt down.] She slid the talisman in her sleeves and will probably throw it away later when the kid wasn’t watching.

And well two hours later and the street rat and his talisman were probably the last thing on her mind. ‘Cause the lone ferocious beast that they were supposed to kill turned out to be a pack of six ferocious beasts.

At some point during the quite challenging fight, Madam Yu got momentarily distracted by something and it allowed one of the beast to rush through her defense. Considering how close it was and the direction of its jump, she barely had the time to raise one arm to protect her face. But before it could actually chunk at her arm it suddenly stopped as if it had slammed into an invisible wall. The protective barrier of course collapse barely a few seconds after because the spiritual energy sustaining it was quite low but it gave Madam Yu enough time to take a few step back and counterattack.    

Soon enough after that all the beasts were dealt with and they could finally relaxed. This was when Madam Yu took out the ‘lucky charm’ from her sleeve. It just happened that the arm she had raised to instinctively protect herself had been the one with the talisman within the sleeve. And sure enough, the talisman was still warm and the sigils were slightly bright in some parts and burnt in others. Indicating that it had been activated not so long ago.  

Madam Yu and Madam Jin looked at each other with wide eyes. Turned out what they thought were a child drawing was actually a proper protective talisman!

So of course they had to go and track WWX down again, because a kid who could write talisman that could be activated and properly worked (even if it was for merely a few seconds) was nothing short of a genius. It would be a tremendous waste not to nurture such potential.

They didn’t have any difficulty in finding the kid again, he was actually sleeping in one of the corner of the street where they had met earlier near a small makeshift tent made of dirty quilts.

The kid woke as they came closer and beamed at them, “Aunties, are you finished night hunting? Did the lucky charm help?” Madam Yu: It did. Did you write it yourself? The kid nodded enthusiastically. Madam Yu: Do you want to learn more? WWX: Can I? Madam Yu: I belong to the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. It is one of the Great Sect of the cultivation world. If you come home with me, I’ll take you in as a disciple and teach you. I won’t be kind though, so be prepared. WWX: I’ll come!! I’ll come! Please teach me!     Madam Yu: Very well, then come along. WWX rushed into the makeshift tent to take out his meager belongings (one fourth of a cinnabar, a very decrepit brush and the two buns that Madam Jin brought him earlier) and happily followed the other two. [And that’s how you catch a wild Wei Ying, *clap clap* (and she didn’t even need to bait him with watermelon)]

Because it was quite late at night and because the kid was super dirty, they decided to stay at a nearby inn, where the kid was forced to take a bath and changed clothes (that Madam Jin brought him... it was the clothes of the inn’s owner’s son and weren’t of high quality but it was definitely better than the clothes that WWX had been wearing).

After the kid looked more presentable and way cleaner, they took the opportunity to ask him about his talismans.

Turns out they were right. His parents had been cultivators  - probably rogue cultivators - and it was his mother who taught A-Ying this protective talisman. It was apparently his “job” to help them make it. Because he was “back-up” and it was a “very important job”... And she had made him make a dozens of them until he got it right and could actually activate them.

Thinking about it, the mother’s aim had probably been to provide him with a tool to protect himself just in case.

By the time, he finished talking about it, the kid was starting to nod off so Madam Yu send him to bed. But just when she did so, she suddenly realized that she didn’t actually know his full name. “A-Ying, what is your name?” WWX *sleepily*: A-Ying’s name is Wei Ying, courtesy name Wuxian. Madam Yu, suddenly filled with dread: Wei? Are your parents Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren? [By the way, at that time, news of the WWX’s parents death had not reach Yunmeng yet, which is why she didn’t make the connection immediately when she heard WWX calling himself A-Ying] WWX: Yes! Auntie, do you know them? Are you friend with them? Madam Yu: We are not friend. But I do know them. WWX: Oh...  

About eight months ago, WWX’s parents had gone to a night hunt in Yiling. And because they thought that this case might be more dangerous than usual, they didn’t take him with them for the actual hunt and made him wait for them back in the street of Yiling [in the exact corner where his makeshift tent is]. They never came back.

Madam Yu, once WWX fell asleep, very bitterly: So she’s dead... And I’m actually taking her kid in. What kind of fate is this? Is she mocking me beyond the grave?

Madam Yu could actually picture with great clarity what was going to happen as soon as WWX will arrive at Lotus Pier. JFM will welcome him with open arms. A son of a servant will be raised way above his station, not only as a mere disciple of the sect but like a son of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan. And A-Cheng will probably cease to exist in the eyes of JFM as soon as the son of Cangse Sanren would arrive.

Madam Jin seeing Madam Yu very sour face, tried to reason with her, “You’re not going to leave back in the street, are you? Outside of the fact that he is Cangse Sanren’s son, he didn’t do anything wrong and has a lot of potential.” [Those words are so going to bite her in the ass a few years later when Meng Yao comes into play, haha] Madam Yu: I am not coming back on my words.

Besides she was pretty sure that even if she left him there, as soon as words of their death reached JFM’s ears, he’d go and search the whole word for Cangse Sanren’s son. He wouldn’t give up until he managed to find him and then they’d end up exactly in the same situation (actually it was probably even a worse situation, there was no way rumors wouldn’t fly around with Jiang-zongzhu looking for and adopting the son of the woman he was rumored to be in love with).... The only way to prevent this situation was to straightforwardly kill the kid right now. But Madam Yu had not reach such a low point that she would go and murder innocent young kids no matter how troublesome their parents were.

If she’s going to have to endure the presence of Cangse Sanren’s son either way, then so be it. If she’s going to have to get used to the idea that Cangse Sanren’s son will from now on be an adoptive son of her family, then so be it. But she will make sure that both sons will be treated accordingly, even if this is the last thing that she’ll ever do! 

---------

Status Progress:

>> Wei Ying has been upgraded to adopted!

>> Madam Yu has been upgraded to on her way to become a good mother out of pure spite!

--------------

Author’s note: Right so remember when I said after part 3 that Meng Yao will appear next time? I lied. (Though he does make his entrance in part 4, you get this prequel/backstory first.)

So in canon (please correct me if I’m wrong) WWX’s parents died when he’s about six and he’s only found by JFM when he’s about eight or nine? That’s such a huge gap. And my personal hc to explain it is that actually JFM didn’t know they died for a long time.

I mean both of them were rogue cultivators. If there were no one around when they died how would it be possible for anyone to know that they died? My guess is that they actually send messages/letters to JFM once in a while (like every two or three years to let him know what they’re up to). Stuff like, “If after X times you didn’t get any news, then please consider us dead” or something. If they died in Yiling right after sending one of their letters, informing him of their location, then it would make sense that JFM would only notice that something is wrong a few years later with no new letters. Naturally he’ll go look for them and search at the last place they mentioned first and try to trace back what happened from there. Which is how he found WWX in the street of Yiling.  

Now in this universe Madam Yu stumbles upon WWX by pure accident less than a year after his parents’ death, which means that he actually gets adopted younger than he was in canon. Which means that by the times the event of part 1 happens, he was already living with the Jiang for something like 4 years (which explains why he has so much more lee-way and is so much more comfortable within the family).

Next time: Part 4 - Meeting Meng Yao (for real this time haha)

[ibijau]

PLS TELL US MORE ABOUT YOUR NHS/LXC/JC FIC !!! Because agreed, give them all the boyfriends!!

Short version: NHS decides that LXC has been in seclusion long enough, figures that the best way to get him out of it is to remind him that hey, life isn’t over. His plan for that is to get LXC and JC drunk and make them talk about their respective feelings. It kind of backfires on him (in a good way) because lol, sure LXC and JC are attracted to each other but in spite of everything they’re also both attracted to NHS, and the night ends in a drunken cuddle pile.

That’s the plan, but I’ve started writing this in february and never managed to really get it off the ground so... you know what, at this point I’m going to post the super incomplete wip so at least it’s not a complete waste if I end up giving up on it :/

Jiang Cheng looked down at the jars of wine with obvious contempt, but Nie Huaisang did not take it personally. He’d never known the man to look at anything with any expression other than contempt. It was just the way his face was.

“It’s stupid and it’s not going to work,” Jiang Cheng snapped, though he still followed him on the path to the Hanshi. “Everyone knows he doesn’t drink.”

“It’s Emperor’s Smile, it hardly counts as drinking,” Nie Huaisang chirped. “Your brother drinks that stuff as if it were tea, it can’t be very strong.”

“Not my brother. And the alcohol isn’t the only problem. Zewu-Jun won’t see anyone.”

“Good that I’m not just anyone then. He’ll open the door for me.”

Jiang Cheng looked unconvinced but didn’t bother arguing. He probably thought that Nie Huaisang would soon be proven wrong and that he’d get to gloat in front of the Hanshi’s closed door. It wasn’t entirely impossible that it would happen that way. Nie Huaisang was convinced that if Lan Xichen were to open the door to anyone it would be him, but he had no way to be sure. Not unless he tried.

For all of his bravado, Nie Huaisang still hesitated at the door of the Hanshi. He was still almost sure that Lan Xichen would accept to see him, but the rest of his plan was…

His eyes darted toward Jiang Cheng, with his arms crossed on his chest, looking ready to gloat when this didn’t work and yet with something like eagerness on his face. This was why they were here, although Jiang Cheng hadn’t been informed of it of course. Nie Huaisang was the only person who could get that door to open but he wasn’t the one with the power to draw Lan Xichen back into the world. It had stung to come to that conclusion but… Nie Huaisang was nothing if not used to disappointment.

Beside it would be nice, he’d decided, to use his powers of scheming and make something good happen this time, so that helped with the bitterness that still choked him at the thought of what he was aiming for.

(Stuff happens, Lan Xichen opens, they start drinking)

“I trusted him, you know,” Jiang Cheng complained.

“Wei Wuxian?” Nie Huaisang asked, since this wasn’t his first time drinking with the other sect leader and he had noticed a pattern.

“Jin Guangyao,” came the correction, and instantly something changed in the air.

Nie Huaisang shot a glance at Lan Xichen who stared at Jiang Cheng as if he were some dangerous and particularly poisonous snake. Jiang Cheng did not appear to notice, looking down at his empty bowl.

“Weird little fellow at first,” he grumbled, “but… nice. And then after Nightless City, he was always so good to A-Ling, made sure he had a good wet-nurse, that he was well taken care of… let me visit whenever I liked even when his father looked like he didn’t want me around. Seemed just happy that A-Ling had some family left, and I was happy too. I was impressed by the way he could handle everything, his sect and this baby that wasn’t his, and then his own marriage… even after he had his own son, he was still so good to A-Ling. Guess it touched me or something.”

He sighed, and so did Lan Xichen.

“He loved his nephew,” the older man whispered, keeping his voice low as if it hurt him to say that. “He was always excited to speak about him. He really liked Jin Zixuan, you know. At least, I always thought he did. Obviously…”

So he’d reached that stage of it, Nie Huaisang figured. He’d gone through that too. Doubt. Questioning every memory to find hidden meaning behind every action. It could drive a man mad. Clearly it was taking its toll on Lan Xichen who did not have a character made to handle these things.

“I think he liked him well enough,” Nie Huaisang said. “I think he didn’t lie about anyone he liked. It’s hard to fake that sort of things after all.”

“You did,” Lan Xichen accused. “He thought you liked him. I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you,” Nie Huaisang quickly protested, before realising what he’d just said and how earnest it had sounded. Uh. Perhaps that Emperor’s smile was stronger than he’d thought after all… but at least, the other two did not appear to have noticed what was wrong with his tone. “I also liked him I suppose. He was nice to me. Bought me nice trinkets. I’ve always been weak to pretty things.”

Without meaning to, he glanced at Lan Xichen first, then at Jiang Cheng. A weakness to beauty indeed. Ah, well, if this worked…

“Jin Guangyao certainly had an eye for the finer things,” Jiang Cheng agreed, glancing at Nie Huaisang since he’d spoken of that, then at Lan Xichen where his gaze lingered a little longer. He probably wasn’t even realising. Adorable. “Made it damn hard to find gifts for A-Ling,” he complained, tearing his eyes away from Lan Xichen. “What can you get a kid when you know his better uncle has probably already given him something stronger and prettier?”

“A-Yao said that his nephew always seemed to enjoy his time in Lotus Piers,” Lan Xichen protested with a gentle smile. “He wouldn’t have sent the child to you so often if it hadn’t made Jin Ling happy to be with you. I’m sure he enjoyed every gift coming from you, and that he still treasures every memory… and in the end, memories are all we have.”

That did little to lighten Jiang Cheng's mood, who ragefully emptied another cup. 

[vespertineflora]

i am a simple woman, humbly requesting xiyao smut where lxc pins jgy to one of those Lan desks and fucks him like my man 100% wanted to do when they first met. no preference on top/bottom, idc what the sex acts are either, just some fun, steamy smut in a completely inappropriate place(no exhibitionism tho plz, it gives me 2nd hand embarrassment something fierce), but 100% no pressure for you to write this if you don't feel it and i hope you have a lovely day/week :)

thank you for this GEM, i had a blast writing it!!! since you didn’t have a preference, i had to go with botton lxc, especially with lxc holding jgy down, it just felt right, you know? hope you enjoy! 

(angstprompt!anon can look for their submission in the next few days probably! meanwhile, my ask box is open for xiyao (or any combo of 3zun) and wangxian prompts, which could result in anything from a drabble to a short fic like this one turned out haha)

~~~

Jin Guangyao arrived in Gusu much later than he’d intended--but Lan Xichen had invited him, and Jin Guangyao had so dearly wanted to come that he figured arriving late was better than not arriving at all. Nearly a month ago, Lan Xichen had given him a jade token that allowed him free passage through the barrier surrounding the Cloud Recesses, a gift that Jin Guangyao had appreciated very much, knowing how rare and special it was for Lan Xichen to be granting it to someone who was not a member of the Lan Sect. It had taken far longer than he would have liked to find time in his schedule to come visit, but he was finally here.

He made it inside the barrier just minutes before the Lan Sect’s strictly imposed curfew and was quickly escorted to the Hanshi... and the moment Lan Xichen’s dark eyes fell upon him, they lit up with warmth and delight, the smile on his lips becoming quickly more sincere than polite. He welcomed Jin Guangyao inside the room almost at once, greeting him in a way that hid none of his precious excitement at having Jin Guangyao there.

They chatted for a few moments, before Lan Xichen suggested, “It’s been so long since you’ve been in the Cloud Recesses, A-Yao. Would you like to take a walk around the grounds?”

There was a particular sort of mirth dancing in his eyes, a look that Jin Guangyao couldn’t quite put his finger on... but one he had no intention of questioning. He teased faintly, “But what about curfew, Er-Ge? Isn’t it past the time that disciples and guests are allowed outside?”

Lan Xichen just grinned a bit more playfully and countered,  “A good thing you’ll be with the Sect Leader then, isn’t it?”

Continue Reading on AO3 or below the cut :)

They stood to head out--though once they were in the yard, Lan Xichen paused suddenly, asking Jin Guangyao to wait for him a moment while he headed back inside, which Jin Guangyao found to be another oddity, though he was frankly too intrigued by Lan Xichen’s unexpected behavior to want to draw attention to the fact that he had noticed it. Whatever Lan Xichen had in mind, Jin Guangyao trusted it to be something he would enjoy.

As it was past curfew, the grounds of the Cloud Recesses were quite empty. Twilight was upon them, the last few rays of the sun sinking down behind the horizon and giving way to the overhead blanket of stars in the night sky. The moon wasn’t full, but it was close, and both the Cloud Recesses and Lan Xichen himself were gorgeous in the silver glow of the moonlight.

Due to their solitude, they didn’t fear walking close together, shoulders brushing as they strolled in companionable silence, glancing at one another from time to time as they passed by the buildings where the junior disciples slept, through the gardens, over to the library, and then finally back around to the Lanshi... where Lan Xichen paused, glancing around in a way that was the opposite of surreptitious, before he took Jin Guangyao by the hand and led him inside.

Jin Guangyao was usually one to try to figure out someone’s intentions before they could ever come to fruition. He usually hated not knowing what others had in mind, what they planned to do, especially where he was concerned... but, strangely, it wasn’t the same at all with Lan Xichen. Beyond knowing that Lan Xichen had intentions... Jin Guangyao couldn’t honestly say he knew what they were and hadn’t been at all bothered about finding out. It was exhilarating in a way, to trust Lan Xichen so deeply that he didn’t need to anticipate what his every move would be, didn’t need to nitpick everything he did or said to figure out each move he would ever make...

All he needed was the deep rooted knowledge that Lan Xichen adored him and would never do anything to hurt him.

It was dark inside the Lanshi as Lan Xichen shut the door behind them, with just enough moonlight slipping in through the screened windows that Jin Guangyao could still faintly make out Lan Xichen’s features, at least enough to see a bit of silver light in his eyes and the smile on his lips--before he leaned down to press their lips together, of course.

His hand moved to cradle Jin Guangyao’s face as Jin Guangyao’s hands moved naturally for Lan Xichen’s waist, their bodies gravitating naturally closer to one another as they kissed in the darkened classroom, breaking apart after a long minute as their foreheads pressed together, hovering close enough that Jin Guangyao could feel Lan Xichen’s semi-heated exhales against his lips.

“This is the first place we met,” Lan Xichen said. His volume was hardly more than that of a whisper, but in the absolute silence inside of the Lanshi, the words couldn’t have possibly been clearer. “Do you remember?”

Jin Guangyao felt the grin stretching across his lips as his thumb smoothed over the fabric of Lan Xichen’s robes. “Considering how close I came to death that day, how could I possibly forget?” he replied, giving Lan Xichen’s waist a playful squeeze. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Did I?” Lan Xichen huffed out a breath of laughter, pecking Jin Guangyao’s lips almost apologetically, “How so?”

“Mm, well, I was hardly more than a humble servant who had heard many stories of the noble Lan Sect, the disciples of which loved cleanliness, and wouldn’t dare touch others unless it was absolutely necessary,” Jin Guangyao recounted fondly. “Then, while I’m assisting my young master with presenting our Sect’s offering, I’m expecting to hand our gift over to some helpful disciple... when instead I am approached by none other than the sect leader himself, a young man so fantastically handsome that even the wildest rumors cannot overstate his beauty and grace.”

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen protested with an almost-shy laugh, a sound that gave away the color on his cheeks that was otherwise unknowable in the dark room.

“And then,” Jin Guangyao continued on heedlessly, spinning his fanciful account together with a playful grin, “this stunningly gorgeous sect leader not only lavishes me with the most sincere flattery this lowly attendant could have imagined, but proceeds to brush his hands against mine--not once, but twice! Once, maybe, can be counted as an accident, no matter how intentionally those fingers seemed to slide across my hand, but then it happened again as the offering was taken from my hands! Imagine my shock as a meager assistant to be touched so deliberately by this elegant and comely young cultivator who I was led to believe would only touch others in the most dire of circumstances!”

Lan Xichen’s soft and flustered laugh was now shaking in his chest, enough for Jin Guangyao to feel it against his own chest with their bodies flush the way they were.

“Er-Ge, all I’m saying is that we’re both quite lucky I didn’t faint at that very moment!” Jin Guangyao said with faux insistence.

“Ah, but then I would have had an excuse to catch you,” Lan Xichen lamented cleverly.

Jin Guangyao was caught off guard by a faint hitch of his own laughter, before declaring, “Then I would have certainly passed from this world to the next! Though...” he trailed off as he pressed his lips again to Lan Xichen’s, “I can’t say that dying in your arms wouldn’t have been the ideal way to go.”

Lan Xichen let out a harder puff of laughter through his nose as their mouths pressed together, somewhat uncoordinated in their shared humor. Their grip on one another grew a bit tighter as they both smiled into the kiss and teasingly tasted one another’s mouths.

“Well,” Lan Xichen finally broke the kiss to speak up, “if that was enough to nearly kill you, then it was likely for the best you left as soon as you did. I was disappointed at the time... but if you’d stayed, you might have discovered my imagination had run quite a bit deeper than simply touching your hand.”

“Er-Ge!” Jin Guangyao gasped dramatically--genuinely surprised, but certainly exaggerating his reaction, “Are you saying you had impure thoughts about me back then?”

Lan Xichen shook with another quiet laugh as he leaned in to kiss Jin Guangyao again before replying, “So impure I found the need to retreat to the cold springs soon after you’d left.”

“Oh, really?” Jin Guangyao asked. For as much as he was playing up his responses, he was genuinely intrigued. He’d never realized that Lan Xichen had thought about him like that so very long ago. “And what exactly were these impure thoughts? Humble servant Meng Yao couldn’t have handled them, but Chief Cultivator Jin Guangyao is quite curious.”

“Ah... I’m not sure words would quite do them justice, honestly,” Lan Xichen said with a touch of wistful disappointment, before his voice took on a tone that was as equally playful, but in a very different way. “Perhaps... a demonstration is in order.”

Oh. Jin Guangyao's pulse fluttered and he had a feeling he’d suddenly stumbled upon Lan Xichen’s reason for bringing him out here in the first place.

“A demonstration would be acceptable,” Jin Guangyao replied, his lips brushing Lan Xichen’s teasingly, anticipation building now, his heart beating a little faster. “Would it be wrong to assume our location plays a part in this demonstration?”

“As a matter of fact...” Lan Xichen trailed off playfully, then leaned down to kiss him, and as he started to walked Jin Guangyao backwards, Jin Guangyao followed easily, right up until the back of his knees bumped gently into one of the desks arranged neatly in the room--at which point, Lan Xichen dropped quickly to his knees in front of him, aiming an appeased smile up at him as his hands made quick work of the sash holding Jin Guangyao’s robes in place. They slipped inside as soon as they could, locking onto his hips and giving them a gentle tug; Jin Guangyao gave in to Lan Xichen’s strength, letting himself get pulled down as his ass landed firmly on the sturdy wooden desk behind him.

If Jin Guangyao had to guess, based simply on how little time Lan Xichen was wasting, this fantasy was something he found quite pressing. Jin Guangyao hadn’t even found time to get hard yet as Lan Xichen was working his pants loose and reaching inside to free him, his hand giving Jin Guangyao’s cock a few eager strokes that quickly helped it twitch to life.

Jin Guangyao’s breathing picked up as quick as his arousal came on, legs spreading to let Lan Xichen get his body between them as he was using his own free hand to open his robes; as soon as Jin Guangyao’s cock was half-hard though, Lan Xichen’s focus was pulled from his task as his mouth quickly descended on Jin Guangyao.

Jin Guangyao’s breath hitched as Lan Xichen didn’t hesitate to wrap his lips around it. He sucked on the head, his tongue swirling around it, lapping eagerly across it, so sudden and hot that Jin Guangyao couldn't help the low moan that rolled out of him. His hands automatically reached for Lan Xichen’s hair, pushing his fingers into it and messing up the neat strands of it almost immediately, though it wasn’t something he could regret; he loved it when Lan Xichen came undone for him, when he sacrificed any amount of his neat appearance in favor of giving in to their shared desire for one another, particularly on the rare occasion when he took charge like this, eagerly taking whatever he wanted--something Jin Guangyao would allow only from Lan Xichen.

In the heat of Lan Xichen’s mouth, it took hardly any time at all before Jin Guangyao was hard, his breaths huffing faintly as his finger tightened and released their grip on Lan Xichen’s hair, fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp in a way that had Lan Xichen humming around his cock, only heightening the arousal buzzing through him.

Clear thought only flooded back to him the moment after Lan Xichen’s mouth and hand pulled back from his cock. The situation was certainly something to wrap his mind around--he hadn’t been in the Lanshi in so many years, but he last remembered it full of students, quiet and serious. Now, his first time back in the Cloud Recesses in so long and his first time back in the Lanshi in even longer, he suddenly found himself in quite the position.

His eyes were fastened on Lan Xichen as he opened his robes, shoved down his pants, and as he reached into his sleeve to produce a bottle of oil, which told Jin Guangyao everything he needed to know about how much Lan Xichen had planned for this to happen.

It was nearly hypnotizing to watch Lan Xichen for a moment, slicking his fingers quickly and liberally. Jin Guangyao’s gaze followed them as Lan Xichen reached behind himself, seeming to shudder as his fingers slid between his cheeks--the expression on his face was heavenly, lips parted as his breath shuddered, brows knitted ever so slightly in a way that told Jin Guangyao he’d skipped over using a single finger and had jumped right in with two. Tragically, Jin Guangyao couldn’t see the stretch of Lan Xichen’s rim as he started to finger himself, but from his vantage point he could easily watch the rocking motion of Lan Xichen’s hand working behind him, and that was more than enough.

Lan Xichen didn’t leave him just to watch though. After just a moment, he leaned back in, his free hand moving once more to Jin Guangyao’s cock, holding it in place as his lips wrapped around it again.

The show was enough to leave Jin Guangyao dizzy. He leaned back a little, hands gripping the desk behind him to support himself as he watched in awe: Lan Xichen’s mouth bobbing faintly around his cock as Lan Xichen’s hand seemed to move in tandem behind him. That motion only paused after a moment for what Jin Guangyao figured was a chance to press in a third finger, an action that elicited a sharper moan from Lan Xichen's throat that vibrated lightly around the head of his cock as Lan Xichen took it deeper into his mouth.

Jin Guangyao moaned deeper, his fingers tightening in a telling way on Lan Xichen’s hair--and Lan Xichen seemed to get the message, as he pulled his lips slowly back from Jin Guangyao’s cock, sitting up a little as he seemed to work his fingers quicker inside, leaning back a little as if straining with the effort to get them in deeper, though all it really did was allow Lan Xichen robes to fall away from his chest, treating Jin Guangyao with a glimpse of his dusky pink nipples, just making the scene set in the Lan Sect classroom even more erotic.

By the time Lan Xichen pulled his fingers out of himself, seemingly deciding he was open enough, he sat panting and whimpering ever so faintly for a few seconds, as if he’d scattered his own thoughts by doing such a thing so on display for Jin Guangyao. Unable to help himself, Jin Guangyao leaned forward to capture Lan Xichen’s lips quickly, to take advantage and dip his tongue deep between his parted lips, Lan Xichen letting out another shuddery moan around his tongue as he kissed him back fervently, his body leaning further and further into Jin Guangyao’s space.

As he felt Lan Xichen starting to push him backwards, across the length of the desk, Jin Guangyao went down easily enough, a true testament to the depth of his trust for Lan Xichen. His upper body fit near perfectly across the length of it from ass to head, just barely reached the edges, as if the surface was nearly made for him to lie on like this--or, more likely, as if Lan Xichen had imagined this enough time to know Jin Guangyao would fit on the desk like this, and wasn’t that an erotic thought?

Again, Jin Guangyao couldn’t help but note how impatient Lan Xichen seemed to be, as he seemed to only bother to remove his pants from one leg--all he needed to lift himself up and properly straddle Jin Guangyao over the desk, reaching for Jin Guangyao’s cock, lining it up with his entrance, and then lowering himself in a motion that was at least somewhat practiced at this point. Jin Guangyao’s hands quickly reached for Lan Xichen’s thigh, gripping onto him as the overwhelming heat of his body sunk down around Jin Guangyao’s eager cock, consuming him little by little--until in a whirlwind of huffed breaths shared between the two of them, Lan Xichen’s body was lowered fully around his cock, his ass resting gently over his hips.

They sat like that for a moment, a look of ecstasy splashed across Lan Xichen’s features that had Jin Guangyao entirely captivated, before, slowly, Lan Xichen started to rock his hips.

The movement was gentle---but even that little started to draw a series of soft keens from Lan Xichen’s mouth, soft little ‘ahh’ sounds that seemed to escape with every exhale, as if Lan Xichen was aroused by where they were doing this as much as by the actual physical sensations.

Jin Guangyao fought his way out of his awed stupor at that thought, a grin rising to his face as his hands began to knead his fingertips up and down Lan Xichen’s sturdy thighs. Almost without prompting, Lan Xichen’s hips began to rock quicker--he even lifted his hips, before letting them sink back down, once, twice, a third time, before the roll of his hips was one solid motion that was growing quicker and quicker--

Without much ado, Lan Xichen’s hands snapped to grab onto Jin Guangyao’s wrists as his body tightened its grip on Jin Guangyao, followed a few seconds later by a soft whimper and the soft, wet streak of cum hitting Jin Guangyao’s stomach.

But Lan Xichen’s movements only paused for maybe a minute or so, before his hips had picked up that gentle rocking motion once again, as motivated as if under some lustful spell that made him unable to help himself except to keep Jin Guangyao’s cock moving inside of him.

Jin Guangyao’s hands started once more massaging Lan Xichen’s thighs--but only a moment later, he found himself surprised as Lan Xichen moved their hands, intertwined their fingers... and then began to lean over him, moving him until his hands were pinned down to the desk beside his head, Lan Xichen’s face wearing an incredibly blissed out expression as it hovered barely a couple feet above him, strands of his long hair slipping over his shoulders, a few stay bits Jin Guangyao’s fingers had shoved loose hanging around his face.

Seeing as Jin Guangyao was quite trapped now, speech was the only tool left in his arsenal--and he certainly had plenty to say.

“How much have you thought about this, Er-Ge?” he asked, voice low and sultry, clearly catching on Lan Xichen’s ears immediately. “Is this really what you wanted back then? To hold me down and ride my cock like this?”

Lan Xichen didn’t answer, but Jin Guangyao felt the way he shuddered at the words, the flicker of change in his expression, and could pick up on the truth easily enough.

“Maybe it is for the best you didn’t do this all those years ago,” he said with a touch more humor, agreeing with Lan Xichen’s earlier statement. “I don’t think I would have survived it back then.”

The corners of Lan Xichen’s mouth twitched upwards, and he left out a pointedly amused huff--which was quickly turned into a soft keen as Jin Guangyao leveraged his feet against the floor to roll his hips up a few sharp times, before he settled once more.

“When do you have these thoughts, hm?” he continued, eyes trained on Lan Xichen’s face, “Do you fantasize about me while you’re falling asleep at night? While you’re trying to relax in your cold springs? Or maybe... maybe while you’re in here teaching or reading off your sect rules, you’re actually thinking about getting fucked by me? If you’ve had these thoughts since the first time we met, you’ve had so many years to fantasize about us fucking, surely you’ve thought about it in here too.”

Lan Xichen’s brow furrowed faintly, a shudder running through him as his hole tightened around Jin Guangyao’s cock, fingers gripping more firmly around his hands, obviously affected by the words even if he hadn’t replied verbally.

“Well, whether you have or not until now...” Jin Guangyao prattled on, his tone as low and seductive as ever, “You definitely will from now on, won’t you? Tell me the truth, Er-Ge. Will you think about how you rode my cock so wonderfully every time you’re in this room now?”

“Yes,” Lan Xichen gasped out faintly, compliantly, his hips grinding down a little more firmly a few times before returning to the previous pace.

“Promise me, Er-Ge,” he compelled him sweetly, voice nearly all breath now, yet still so clear in the ringing silence of the classroom. “Every time you’re in the Lanshi, I want you to remember how you fingered yourself open while sucking my cock. I want you to think about how desperate you were to pin me down and get my cock inside of you. You’ll promise to think of me every time you look at this desk that we’re fucking on, won’t you, Er-Ge?”

The faint moonlight didn’t allow for much color perception, but Lan Xichen’s cheeks were so flushed after all of Jin Guangyao’s rambling that he could see how dark they’d gotten even now.

“I promise,” Lan Xichen panted, his hips starting to move a little quicker again, a little more urgent. “A-Yao, I promise.”

He couldn’t move much, but his thumbs stroked the outside of Lan Xichen’s hands from where they were pinned to the desk. He let out a pleased hum and almost purred as he said, “Thank you, Er-Ge.” Lan Xichen could be so easily flustered when he got like this, and Jin Guangyao considered it a delicacy, something to be truly savored. “Do you want to come together this time?”

“Yes, yes,” Lan Xichen exhaled sharply again. His hips rolling down a little harder, his breaths getting more desperate.

Jin Guangyao adjusted to Lan Xichen’s pace, then started to roll his hips back up at Lan Xichen, meeting the downward motion of his body and forcing his cock a little deeper inside, creating a slight thrust that only increased the delicious friction around his cock, and that made Lan Xichen’s soft moans get a little more heated as his second orgasm drew closer.

Their bodies moved in harmony, a practiced motion after so many years, Lan Xichen lifting himself up a bit so that he could drop his body back onto Jin Guangyao’s cock with each thrust, and the silence of the room was completely eaten up by the wet sound of Jin Guangyao’s cock moving in and out of Lan Xichen’s tight hole, by the soft smack of their skin meeting at the end of each thrust and the increased panting of their breaths, by Lan Xichen’s rising whimpers and moans.

Jin Guangyao felt his pleasure plateauing as Lan Xichen’s body rocked more urgently, as aroused by Lan Xichen’s desperation to fulfill this fantasy as he was amused by it, his senses all a flutter in Lan Xichen’s telling reactions and noises giving away exactly how close he was, noises that would have given them away in an instant if this weren’t so far past the Lan Sect curfew that left all the disciples thankfully out of hearing range of the Lanshi. The one thing that Lan Xichen had yet to master (and perhaps the thing Jin Guangyao hoped he never would) was the ability to actually keep his voice down the closer he got to his orgasm.

Waiting for Lan Xichen, Jin Guangyao took a few deep, hard breaths, skillfully forcing his own orgasm back, letting it balance right on that delicate edge, because he could tell that Lan Xichen was going to come at any second--and just as he thought, barely a minute later, Lan Xichen’s face pressed down against his chest as he let out a sharp cry, the clenching of his hole around Jin Guangyao’s cock finally pushing him over the precipice with a sharp breath of his own as he released deep inside of Lan Xichen.

His grip loosened, but Lan Xichen didn’t let go of Jin Guangyao’s hands, not immediately, as they both laid there panting in the dark room. Jin Guangyao’s face pressed to Lan Xichen’s hair, showing him the only affection he could at the moment as he nuzzled him gently.

They stayed entangled for several long minutes, until Lan Xichen finally seemed to get his strength back. He lifted his head and sought out Jin Guangyao’s mouth with his own, kissing him as he slowly lifted his hips; Jin Guangyao felt Lan Xichen shuddering faintly as his cock slid out of him before his body settled back over him.

“You know,” Jin Guangyao spoke up after a moment, his words faintly muffled by Lan Xichen’s mouth, “I almost feel sorry for whoever’s desk this is.”

Lan Xichen broke away from the kiss as he broke into a silent laugh, burying his face against Jin Guangyao’s neck again, his hands finally releasing Jin Guangyao’s. It meant Jin Guangyao was free to slide his arms up under Lan Xichen’s robe and wrap around his back comfortably, letting his fingernails trail lightly across the smooth skin and firm muscle for a little while as the both of them gradually settled down.

Eventually, Lan Xichen said they should head back and Jin Guangyao agreed. Lan Xichen had luckily picked a very secluded spot for this little adventure, but the longer they stayed here, the higher the risk was that someone would discover them like this. They both knew they would be shedding their robes as soon as the door of the Hanshi shut behind them, so they redressed just enough to look proper in case they encountered any patrolling disciples on the way; Jin Guangyao even took a minute to carefully comb his fingers over Lan Xichen’s hair, smoothing it out and pointedly straightening the ribbon across his forehead, much to Lan Xichen’s embarrassed delight.

Jin Guangyao had mostly been teasing Lan Xichen... but as they slipped out of the Lanshi and headed back towards Lan Xichen’s room, Jin Guangyao couldn’t helped be be thoroughly amused by the idea that it really would be quite impossible for Lan Xichen to be in the Lanshi  without thinking about him now; there was something deliciously entertaining about the idea of Lan Xichen having to fight back his arousal every time he had to come teach a class. Perhaps it was only fair after their many, many escapades throughout Carp Tower had led to many fond memories for Jin Guangyao, that Lan Xichen would now have some of his own memories at home. In fact...

“If this is how I’m treated when I’m here, I’m going to have to visit more often,” Jin Guangyao said as a smile curled at the corner of his lips, his arm slipping casually and yet quite boldly around Lan Xichen’s as he settled against his side.

Lan Xichen flashed a flustered smile down at him, but held Jin Guangyao’s arm a bit closer to his side as he replied, “You’re welcome here any time, A-Yao.”

They had more memories to make, and Jin Guangyao was now quite curious about what other sorts of fantasies Lan Xichen had been having about him all this time.

[antiquecompass]

Untamed Spring Fest Day 15: Growth

Wherein there is an art show and an ex.

It wasn’t often they got a weekend away together during the school year, but this time it was a special circumstance. The Rhode Island School of Design Craft Show had selected Xichen as one of its three jurors this year. It was an honor for him, and for Lan Academy, and so while Xichen didn’t like to leave the school for any amount of time, especially not right before the first quarter report cards went out, he couldn’t refuse this invitation.

“Is Xichen nervous?”

Jiang Cheng looked up from where he was giving Sugar her final hugs before setting out for the weekend. His sister had offered to watch all the pets, but Jiang Cheng loved her far too much to leave her with a dog and three cats on top of her children. Molly had agreed to take care of the cats back at Xichen’s home. Sugar needed a little more attention, and since Jin Ling had already shown a love for dogs, it would be a good test run for him in the future.

Even if the Peacock swore they’d never had a dog.

It was one of maybe three things Jiang Cheng and Meng Yao agreed on: if their nephew wanted a dog, he was getting a dog.

“I’d be nervous,” Yanli said. “I still get nervous judging cooking competitions. I hate when people don’t get rewarded for at least trying their hardest.”

His beloved, tender-hearted sister. He loved her so much.

“You know Xichen feels the same about art. He refuses to claim any one medium or style has more value than the other. To him, it’s always about being made with some sort of genuine emotion. The jurors for this show remain anonymous, so that won’t be a burden to him this weekend.” He stood, wiping off bits of Sugar’s fur from his pants and tried not to let his temper flare at the one very shitty part of this weekend. “His ex is presenting there this year though, and I think he’s more nervous about that than anything else. He’s avoided that jackass since he graduated.”

“Or maybe he’s more nervous about what you will do,” Yanli said. “Not that such a horrible person doesn’t deserve every verbal wound you’d give him. Or a physical one. Trip the bastard, make him knock out a tooth.”

“Yanli!”

She shrugged. “You could do worse. This way it’ll be a justifiable accident. How anyone could be that horrible to Xichen of all people.”

If Yanli knew everything that bastard had said to Xichen, the emotional manipulative shit he’d pulled over a year-long relationship, she’d probably invite herself along to give the fucker a piece of her mind.

“I don’t want to make it awkward or more difficult for Xichen this weekend,” Jiang Cheng said. “So I’ll be nice and professional; my normal asshole self to that piece of shit; and then I’ll set mom and Huaisang on the little rat’s trail once I get his business card.”

“Good,” Yanli said. Her cold tone faded as her bright smile returned. “If you see a peacock--”

“I’ll buy it for your family’s collection,” Jiang Cheng promised her.

***********

The Freeman Hotel was old by date, historic by design, and a little full of itself, but Jiang Cheng knew it would be a better fit for Xichen who had almost accepted the school’s offer of rooming at the Hilton. Not that the Hilton was a bad hotel, but Xichen was and remained a kind, but pampered, prince and they’d both be far more comfortable with their suite here. Xichen had fallen in love with the hotel the first time they’d stayed, and so now every time they came to Providence, they stayed in the same premier suite. It was one of their own traditions.

“You were right,” Xichen said as they exited the car. “The Hilton would’ve been fine, but it wouldn’t have felt right.”

Jiang Cheng nodded as he pulled their bags out of the trunk. “And I’m sure you’ll still meet some of your fellow alumni here, but we can still have a semblance of privacy.”

The staff here was very good and very respectful. They were also pet friendly which was one of the many reasons they stayed here.  

“And escape,” Xichen agreed. He grinned as they headed towards the lobby. “We’ll both need it after this weekend.”

“Being polite is so exhausting,” Jiang Cheng agreed.

“As if you’d know,” Xichen teased.

“It’s a good thing I love you so much, or I’d leave you to fend for yourself with the alumni masses this weekend,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen dipped his head and kissed the tip of Jiang Cheng’s nose. They entered the lobby happy--laughing--both feeling lighter than they had during the past few weeks of work and stress.

“Mr. Lan! Mr. Jiang! It’s so good to see you again,” Santos greeted them from behind the counter. “No Sugar this time?”

“We left her with family this weekend,” Jiang Cheng said.

“We’ll miss her,” Santos said. He passed over their room keys and wished them well.

They both lingered in the lobby, studying the current art exhibit. There was always at least one art exhibit, no matter the time of year. This particular one also had various pieces from the School of Design’s student body and alumni. It was certainly going to be a weekend for it. They passed various little lounges and hidden corners full of books and art and all different types of comfortable chairs. They passed the main winding staircase that led up to the top floors of the original building, past the little door that led to a hidden garden path, and then finally headed towards the bank of elevators.

As they passed another little alcove, Xichen froze.

“Baby?” Jiang Cheng asked.

Xichen’s shoulders dropped, the joy from earlier seeming to disappear. Jiang Cheng’s protective instincts immediately went on alert, he stepped in front of Xichen, trying to find whatever could’ve caused such a sudden change in his mood. All he could hear was a nasally voice talking about the children’s paintings in the back alcove with that pretentious bullshit tone that only came from people who were too rich or too full of themselves or both.

“Some parents just shouldn’t encourage their students to pursue art. Just look at this?”

What in the actual fuck? Who in the hell criticized children’s art projects?

“Well, that’s a soulless asshole,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen nodded. Cleared his throat. And nodded again. “So, um...that’s my college boyfriend. Brantley.”

Jiang Cheng felt a mixture of rage, anger, and disbelief.

Really, disbelief more than anything.

“Brantley’s not a human name, it’s a horse’s name,” Jiang Cheng replied before he could form any other thoughts. He shook his head as he tried to drown out the nasally voice still droning on. “That?” he asked, pointing to where the voice came from. “Him?”

“Mistakes were made,” Xichen said, a twist of a smile back on his lips and a hint of sparkle in his eyes.

“A mistake is when you put a red shirt in with a load of whites,” Jiang Cheng said. “That is a fucking travesty.”

That asshole was the source of so many of Xichen’s firsts. That was the motherfucker who called Xichen boring. Who told him he wasn’t enough to keep anyone satisfied. Said he only got into RISD because of his family name. Called Xichen plain and hardly memorable. That motherfucker who was critiquing a kid’s drawing of Spongebob friggin’ Squarepants. No wonder Meng Yao, Satan Incarnate himself, seemed like a prince compared to that asshole. The man’s voice alone made Jiang Cheng want to break his face.

“Him?” Jiang Cheng asked again, ready to storm into the room. “Did he try to play art critic back then too? To children?”

“There were many reasons why I broke up with him,” Xichen said. He grabbed Jiang Cheng’s arm. “My love, don’t. Please. I just want to go up to our room.”

Jiang Cheng hesitated. “Just one little tiny rant?” he tried.

Xichen shook his head. “Please,” he said.

And how could Jiang Cheng deny him when he asked?

He couldn’t.

But he made sure to keep his deadliest glare on his face just in case the jackass appeared before their elevator arrived.

**********

Xichen knew Brantley (though the artworld knew him as ‘Ley’) was going to be here this weekend, but he never thought they’d be staying in the same hotel. This hotel was a place of class and calm and Brantley usually avoided anything ‘traditional’ so as not to seem boring. There was no reason for him to be staying in this hotel when far trendier ones that catered to people who cared more about their image than their comfort were closer to the city center.

Xichen refused to let it put a damper on their little holiday. He was proud to be a juror this year, was always eager to see the creations of RISD’s students and alumni, and was ecstatic Jiang Cheng had been able to clear his weekend and join him. This was their suite in their hotel in a city they came back to often. He refused to let one past mistake--one that was still so clearly a horrible human being--ruin it.

Back then, Xichen had been charmed and flustered and confused. He’d never dated before then, never had someone pursue him in the ruthless way Brantley had. He’d been bowled over by him; an attractive student, a year ahead of him, who was popular in Xichen’s department. Now he could look back and see that Brantley was smart, but not clever; handsome, but not breathtaking; talented, but not extraordinary. Still, there was a time Xichen had been in awe of him.

They didn’t start off bad, but then Brantley couldn’t stand not being the best, not being the center of attention, and as Xichen grew more comfortable so far removed from his family, found his own friends, his own talent, his own sort of fame, Brantley had become mean.

It didn’t help that during one of these Craft weekends, Xichen had won an award and Brantley hadn’t.

That’s when Brantley’s words turned vicious; taunting; what used to be praised in Xichen was now mocked; what used to be desired was now derided.

It had come to a head one weekend when Uncle had visited. He’d shook Brantley’s hand and then turned to Xichen, a frown on his face. Uncle did not approve.Uncle would not agree to let Brantley visit the Lan property like he’d been asking to for so long. And that disapproval was the freedom, the signal, the excuse Xichen needed to end it.

It was amazing how much had changed in the years since. Xichen had grown into his confidence, even if he, naturally, still had self-doubts. He still disliked confrontation and tried to please everyone, but he’d found his strength.

He’d found his strength in more ways than one, and in one person in particular.

“Ready for dinner?” Jiang Cheng asked.

He wore one of Xichen’s own Lan Academy swim team shirts, the cotton old, faded, and stretched, and a pair of khaki shirts in deference to the still warm days of early Fall and the amount of walking they’d do tonight. That was another tradition of theirs: to walk the streets of downtown after dinner, lingering in the parks, enjoying their time together, before stopping off at the local grocers to buy food to stock their little kitchen here for the weekend. Every time Xichen was reminded of his first show as Zewu-jun, of them both tired and punch-drunk on that park bench, eating a horrible McDonald’s breakfast.

He wished he could somehow tell the Xichen back then that one day he would spend almost every morning waking up to that face, that he would know that smile as well as his own; that he’d get to hear that laughter whenever he wished, since it was always either a room or a phone call away. That in that moment, hours after that breakfast, he would start something that would lead him here.

To a man who loved him for his faults as well as his virtues; who respected him, praised him, supported him. To his equal. To his heart.

Xichen knew there were tears in his eyes as he looked up at Jiang Cheng now; could feel the rattle of a sob in his chest.

Jiang Cheng immediately dropped down next to him and wrapped him in his arms, soft kisses spread across his brow, the tip of his nose, his hair.

“Say the word and I’ll get him kicked out of here. I’ll buy the entire fucking hotel to do it if I have to.”

Xichen shook his head and laughed, clinging tighter to Jiang Cheng.

“I love you,” he forced out. The words he meant to say before all of it had come crashing down on him. “And thank you for loving me.”

“Thank you for letting me,” Jiang Cheng said.

He could still feel the angry tension in Jiang Cheng’s body. He knew Jiang Cheng wanted to lash out; to avenge all Xichen’s past hurts. But those past hurts were nothing, just memories, and they were nothing compared to the joy he’d found and the happy memories he’d made with Jiang Cheng.

“Room service?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“Absolutely not,” Xichen said. He gently tugged Jiang Cheng’s arms off him and sat back. “We have a reservation with our favorite restaurant and then an appointment with our favorite park bench and I refuse to let one asshole who’s never grown out of his bitterness for not being as talented as he thinks he is ruin it.”

“I still want to kick his ass,” Jiang Cheng said.

“I believe you’d have to get in line,” Xichen said.

**********

It was after their lovely dinner, relaxing walk, and too many kisses while sitting on their bench, that the confortonation finally happened. Jiang Cheng’s arms were full of their groceries, and he was propped up against the wall as they waited for their elevator to descend. It was then that they both wrinkled their noses at the smell of someone who hadn’t sprayed cologne rather than doused themselves in it.

“Oh--you’re here.”

Xichen put on his best Headmaster Lan smile to nod at Brantley. “It is alumni weekend,” he said.

“I didn’t think school principals could afford to stay at a place like this,” Brantley said. “Of course, you have your family’s money.”

Ah, so they were continuing where they’d left off then. Even after nearly twenty years.

“My inheritance is my source of income,” Xichen agreed, “so that my salary can be donated to the school to fund various scholarships and programs.”

“Not that he even needs to pull from his inheritance, considering the money his art brings in on its own,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen grinned at Jiang Cheng, still so casually propped up against the wall, his smile and eyes ready to kill.

“You’re not an artist,” Brantley said as he looked at Jiang Cheng, judging him by his outfit alone. “Sold prices don’t equal skill.”

“Fair enough,” Jiang Cheng said. “I’m not an artist, just an appreciator and investor.”

Brantley gave a pitying smile. “Well, my work of course is more than just basic watercolors.”

“I love watercolors,” Jiang Cheng said. “And shouldn’t one collect and create art they enjoy? Wouldn’t it be too pretentious to imply one type of art is better than another? If it’s all up to interpretation? I mean, of course everything in life must be open to criticism, but it takes a special kind of asshole to try and douse other people’s joy just to feel better about their own failings.”

Brantley didn’t take the bait and didn’t seem to realize he was a little guppy batting at a shark. “You’re an investor, you say? What’s the jewel of your collection then? Comic strips?”

Xichen didn’t know how Jiang Cheng found the control to keep his hands where they were and not slap the smug smirk off Brantley’s face. He didn’t though, just shifted the groceries and gave Xichen a wink.

“The jewel of my collection? Xichen,” Jiang Cheng automatically said. “But if we’re talking assets, I suppose it’s the Jiang Theater. I mean, my family owns some more important pieces, but those remain on permanent loan to the Museum of Fine Arts. And the Gardner. And Harvard has a couple of our pieces too, and MoMA. Always forget about MoMA. But in terms of size, I suppose it must be the Jiang Theater.”

That caught Brantley’s attention. “Oh, are you a supporter of the theater?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said. “And somehow some complicated way, the owner.”

Xichen finally intervened. As much fun as this was, their ice cream was melting. “Brantley, he’s the owner and CEO of Jiang Industries.”

“You may call me Mr. Jiang,” Jiang Cheng said as the elevator doors finally opened. He walked past Brantley, rolling his eyes as the man refused to move. “Seriously?” he asked, turning to Xichen as they settled inside the elevator and the doors started to close. “Him? Really?”

“I was young and I didn’t know any better,” Xichen said. “He was my first boyfriend.”

“We both started from the shit bottom,” Jiang Cheng said. “At least there was growth and improvement.”

“Are you complimenting Meng Yao?”

“Saying he’s better than that shit stain is hardly a compliment,” Jiang Cheng said. “But, yes, if we’re being technical about it, I am.” He made a face. “That’s disgusting. Come here and kiss me and take away the trauma of it all.”

“I’ll squish the bread,” Xichen said even as he crowded Jiang Cheng into the corner.

“Somehow, I think I’ll forgive you,” Jiang Cheng said.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Good Help - chapter 2 - ao3 link

-

Despite the circumstances of their first meeting, Meng Yao mostly appreciated A-Jue for his quick mind and fearlessness – and, yes, occasionally for his towering height that made grabbing books from high places infinitely easier – rather than his muscles, however impressive they were. In fact, after the first few weeks, he had very nearly forgotten that A-Jue was a guard of the inner hall.

The assassination attempt put an end to that oversight.

It wasn’t that Meng Yao hadn’t anticipated such an attempt, nor that he hadn’t taken precautions. He was careful to take his meals in the communal kitchen at unexpected hours and tested even the snacks he kept with him before consuming them, and naturally avoided any unsupervised hallways or attempts to lure him outside, but he had underestimated the enmity that greeted his appointment: he had not thought that they would launch a direct attack.

The perpetrators entered his office as petitioners, posing as clerks for an influential merchant, and launched the attack just as they were settling into the rhythm of negotiations. They were hoping to catch him distracted, which they did, but Meng Yao had always had good instincts; he realized what was happening the first moment they moved. He was out of his chair and reaching for the flexible sword he stored around his waist almost at once, already calculating how many injuries he could incur and still be able to fight back enough to preserve his life – he just needed to survive until the guards came in, unless they’d somehow gotten rid of those, in which case he needed to run –

The calculations proved unnecessary.

By the time Meng Yao’s hand reached the hilt of his blade, A-Jue was already in front of him, catching one assassin the chest with a vicious palm strike and knocking him into the path of another, turning fluidly to slam an elbow into a third.

He didn’t even draw the saber that hung low at his waist, just knocked aside the assassin’s swords and daggers with his bare hands and then beating them with his fists and feet.

Meng Yao stood there for a moment, blinking, and by the time even his quick-moving mind caught up with everything the assassins all were unconscious or paralyzed, the merchant was on his knees begging for mercy and swearing to his ignorance, and A-Jue was standing there, frowning slightly at one of the still-twitching assassins like he was considering going in for more.

“Why didn’t you draw your saber?” Meng Yao asked, both because he was curious and because it was a better reaction than saying I forgot you could do that or I thought I’d be facing them all on my own again, or, even worse, thanks.

“I thought you’d want them alive to question them,” A-Jue said, blinking at him – he had the same expression of good-natured puzzlement as he did any time Meng Yao corrected him, whether as to his calculation of accounting errors or underestimating the malice inherent in mankind, which remained a subject of recurrent disagreement. “Was I wrong?”

“Not at all,” Meng Yao said, and felt once again the thrill of power when A-Jue nodded and called for other guards to enter and remove the bodies, although he crouched by each one first to check them over for any suicide pills or arrays that might interfere with an interrogation. His professional detachment and efficient resolution of events was truly suitable for a guard of the inner hall, the finest of Wen Ruohan’s soldiers; there could be no complaints.

There was something truly delightful about having a powerful man at your beck and call, Meng Yao reflected, and wondered briefly if A-Jue had been sent his way deliberately as a plant to infiltrate his confidence. It seemed unlikely, given the random nature of their meeting, and certainly A-Jue didn’t fit any of Meng Yao’s known pre-existing preferences, other than in terms of bedpartners. And yet he grew suspicious, if only because A-Jue suited him so very well, just right in every way…

Meng Yao spent the next three days conducting a series of covert tests to see if any information was being leaked from his office through A-Jue, but there was nothing. Ultimately, he was forced to conclude that A-Jue might actually just be – like that.

Straightforward and blunt, fearless in both speech and action, decisive and capable and yet willing to take orders from Meng Yao, never judging him for his birth but respecting him for his abilities…

Good help, he reminded his suddenly over-active libido. Hard to find. Don’t ruin a good thing.

It was hard to remember, though. A-Jue was just the sort of man Meng Yao liked when he went for men: handsome and powerfully built, well-born or rich or both, stern and unyielding in demeanor, the sort of man for whom life generally went the way they wanted. The sort could easily get a girl, even one of good breeding and appropriate lineage, merely by snapping his fingers. The type of man that might tempt even a practiced whore.

Meng Yao liked to break those types of men.

It was a trait he shared with Wen Ruohan, and one of the ways he had managed to get the Emperor’s attention – that first job he had taken had been in the Fire Palace, the Emperor’s torture chambers, and he had worked out a considerable portion of his anger and anxiety through the torment of his enemies, defined liberally as anyone who insulted his mother. He’d matured since then, growing calmer, but he still liked to put proud men on their knees and make them service him, to rub their faces in the fact that he was the one with the power, to make them crawl and plead and cry for him. Though he supposed for someone like A-Jue – he wouldn’t need to break him, really.

It’d be enough to see him bend. Willingly, for him.

And yet, if Meng Yao did that, wouldn’t A-Jue start to flinch from him and turn away from him – seek to preserve his injured pride by fleeing Meng Yao’s presence, the way so many others before him had? It would make working together much more annoying, and A-Jue was perfect the way he was.

Almost irritatingly so. If only A-Jue were more inclined to make errors, Meng Yao would feel freer to take advantage of him.

“Have you ever thought less of me because of my parentage?” Meng Yao asked one evening, apropos of nothing, when A-Jue was already exhausted and more than a little wild-eyed from having to review every single one of the reports on wheat yields in their northern provinces as part of Meng Yao’s random audit of the files.

“I mean, Jin Guangshan’s a waste of space, but you’re nothing like him, so not after the beginning,” A-Jue said automatically, then scowled at Meng Yao when he started laughing. “What? Give me a break, I didn’t know you then! How was I to guess that you’d actually be competent? Or – not awful?”

“I was,” Meng Yao said with dignity, even if his lips insisted on twitching, “referring to my mother.”

“But you hate it when people talk about your mother,” A-Jue said blankly, then shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, is this some sort of mind game? If so, can it wait until tomorrow? I’m going to dream in wheat prices.”

“It can wait until tomorrow,” Meng Yao agreed, pretending to be solemn. He wasn’t sure if he was more amused at A-Jue’s ridiculous perspective on things or the fact that he seemed to think Meng Yao was not awful simply because he’d indulged him a few times when he was being especially insistent on doing things the soft-hearted way.

“You’re making fun of me again,” A-Jue grumbled. “I don’t know why, but you are. Fuck you.”

The next day, Meng Yao asked A-Jue if he’d ever been to a whorehouse.

“Yes, while on campaign,” A-Jue said, blinking rapidly as if he were trying to hide something, or more likely not think of something. Either he’d had a bad experience or he thought Meng Yao was going to cut off his balls for admitting it.

Which he wouldn’t, of course. There was nothing wrong with the better sort of customer, and Meng Yao felt certain that A-Jue would have been that sort, could imagine him sitting in the corner with a jar of wine and a blush until he was coaxed upstairs and then paying too much for the privilege, after...but it was cute that A-Jue worried about such things.  

Meng Yao put a friendly hand on A-Jue’s shoulder – the man flinched, briefly, but quickly mastered himself, just as he did any time anyone touched him – and said in his best sugar-sweet sympathetic tone that he hadn’t had to use on anyone in ages, “Did she touch you in a bad place?”

“The honored viceroy can go fuck himself any time he damn well pleases,” A-Jue said, and he had no idea how much Meng Yao would like to ask him if he’d prefer to do the honors himself.

“Do you know any other curses, or is it just variations on the term ‘fuck’?” he asked instead, thinking good help, good help, good help. “I know at least three dozen involving farmyard animals, if you’d like to learn.”

A-Jue’s laugh was in no way like a braying donkey, no matter what Meng Yao pretended to insist.

-

“Have you considered the benefits of a regular routine of physical exercise?” A-Jue asked.

Meng Yao glared at him.

“I’m just saying,” A-Jue said. “It would make your life easier.”

“Shut up and help me get down from up here,” Meng Yao hissed – A-Jue had taken care of the vicious snarling creatures that had somehow gotten loose, an obvious follow-up assassination attempt now that the poisoning he thought he’d identified in a late-night dessert had been demonstrably unsuccessful, even if A-Jue had insisted that they were just “sweet little puppies” and Meng Yao was “overreacting”.

“I’d be happy to help train you, if you’d like.”

“I’m far too busy,” Meng Yao said with what little shreds of dignity he still possessed. “I do three times as much work as you do, I don’t have capacity to running off to go wave a stick in the air multiple times a day like some people.”

A-Jue grinned at him, utterly unmoved, and Meng Yao huffed, rolling his eyes at him.

“If I agree,” he said, with no intention whatsoever of agreeing, “will you finally show me your saber?”

If there was innuendo in there – well. He was only a man, after all.

“Perhaps one day,” A-Jue said. “It’s not a privileged I give to everyone.”

Meng Yao tried to parse whether that was flirting. He couldn’t quite tell.

“Well, your saber is very large,” he said, probing. “Maybe you should take it out more often.”

“When I take out my saber, someone dies,” A-Jue said, and – probably not flirting, then. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally skewer you.”

Possibly very strange flirting? Meng Yao wouldn’t put it past A-Jue.

“Yes, well,” he said, straightening his robes and settling back into professional mode. “You have fun with your exercise, but leave me out of it.”

A-Jue escorted him back to his office first, conscientious as always.

Once he was gone, Meng Yao rang a certain bell and summoned Sisi, whose freedom was probably the best investment he’d ever made – she’d merged into the palace staff without leaving so much as a trace behind, acting as though the other girls were her sisters and she’d been there forever, and she was more than willing to report on everything she learned.

Also, she’d retained enough of her looks that everyone thought that Meng Yao only summoned her for sex, making A-Jue’s occasional disappearances for training purposes the perfect time for Meng Yao to meet with her without suspicion – he’d given up most of his paranoia surrounding A-Jue, but that was no reason to share all of his tricks.

Besides, he wasn’t sure he actually wanted A-Jue and Sisi to meet.

“When you’re done fucking him, can you share?” Sisi asked after she put down the tray of snacks – buns and a pot of tea, all of which she sampled before his eyes in the name of sharing food. “Man like that deserves to be common property.”

“I’m not whoring him out,” Meng Yao said, a warning in his tone, and Sisi sighed dramatically.

“Tell me you’re at least having a good time with all those muscles,” she said. “Someone ought to be.”

Meng Yao rolled his eyes.

“Where’s the trouble coming from this time?” he asked, deciding to elide the issue entirely. “I keep hearing whispers and people look nervous, the way they do before some sort of trouble, but neither gentry nor merchant class seem to have produced anything out of the ordinary, and I can’t imagine it’s the farmers again after last time.”

“You’re looking out, you should be looking in,” she said.

“The Emperor’s court?”

That could be a serious problem. Any political turmoil that happened within the Nightless City would have ramifications well beyond it.

“His harem,” Sisi said, her face alight with the pleasure of gossip. “Word’s come back from the south – turns out that the Emperor took one of the Imperial Consorts with him for his trip.”

Even Meng Yao’s eyebrows raised.

“And with the Empress in seclusion, well…”

It wasn’t as though the Empress had a strong maternal family as a backing – no one even knew what her surname was – but she’d been there for years and years, practically part of the décor. Replacing her with one of the Consorts would be…a change.

The Nightless City hated change.

“Could you ask to see her?” Sisi asked. “Just as proof of life…”

“I could,” Meng Yao said, because technically he had authority over everyone, “but I won’t. Why would I invite trouble for myself? I’d have to explain to the Emperor why I interfered with his harem.”

“Good point,” Sisi said, although she looked disappointed.

“Which Consort?”

“The rumor says A-Sang,” she said. “The one that likes to carry scholarly fans.”

“A-Sang? Really?”

“I know! We all thought that the Emperor didn’t even like A-Sang – everyone agrees that A-Sang never got any imperial visits before this; the Emperor never spent a night in A-Sang’s rooms, never even shared a meal, nothing. But why else would he take A-Sang with him on a months-long journey?”

Why indeed. The Emperor remained as unfathomable as ever. Meng Yao wondered briefly if Wen Ruohan really had murdered the Empress in her seclusion, faking her presence with a note…still, it seemed implausible. Why would he bother?

“I heard a rumor once,” he said instead. “About A-Sang.”

Like all good spies and shit-stirrers, Sisi was immediately at full attention – she knew that Meng Yao was not inclined to gossip for the pleasure of it, the way she was, and therefore he would only volunteer information if he intended for her to spread it.

“A-Sang is the Empress’ family,” Meng Yao said, and Sisi’s eyes went wide. “Younger sibling.”

Younger brother, he thought, though he didn’t say anything – he didn’t actually know for sure. It was hard to tell. Wen Ruohan didn’t lock away his wives the way some men did; on the contrary, he enjoyed bringing them out for celebrations to show them off. But the Empress was invariably veiled, swathed in silks without a hint of skin showing, always seated in her chair as if she were kneeling in penance, never moving; Meng Yao, who only saw her from a distance during the celebrations, sometimes almost thought she might not have legs. In daily life, she sometimes attended the Emperor’s court, but always remained seated behind her veils and sometimes even a screen, little more than a silhouette from which, rarely, notes emerged but no voice ever did.

Naturally, if the Empress preferred to be veiled, that meant the other wives had to at least pretend to follow her lead. And that meant veils and concealing clothing, even if some of them interpreted the concept rather loosely, with sheer veils and even sheerer clothing, meant to entice – A-Sang fell somewhere in the middle of that spectrum, wearing a veil that revealed his eyes and clothing that allowed him flexibility of movement without too much restraint, and while he was slender and delicate, Meng Yao was moderately certain that he was indeed male.

Not that it mattered.

Wen Ruohan had never much cared about that.

“Amazing,” Sis breathed. “So all these years, the Emperor has been refraining from touching A-Sang out of respect for the Empress, and now the little sister wife has finally made her move…”

Meng Yao had said none of that, but it served him to muddle the waters a little, mostly to see who would try to clear it up. Not that it could be, as his information about their familial connection was accurate – gleaned from a careless comment by Wen Ruohan himself, no less – but it interested him to know who would try regardless.

“Go,” he said, and Sisi left, all but floating, and it wasn’t long before A-Jue returned, all shiny with sweat and exertion, looking incredibly fuckable.

“You worked near the harem, right?” Meng Yao asked him, mind still focused on the bubbling little scandal that he just knew would become an issue that could wreck his thus far successful regency. “Do you have any connections there?”

“Not really?” A-Jue said. “Most of the wives are scared of me.”

Typical.

“Is there something you’d like me to find out for you..?”

“No need,” Meng Yao said. He’d never met anyone less well suited to be a spy than A-Jue. “But it may be an avenue of future threats, so keep it in mind.”

“I’m not going to let anyone from the harem harm you,” A-Jue said, oddly fierce. “Not anyone. Don’t worry.”

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXV

January 11, 2278.

I’m certain the entire Wasteland heard the explosion.

My partner stood still, completely silent. 

All of us watched as Paradise Falls went up in flames, the fire reflecting in Percy’s glasses.

The Abolitionists and the ex-slaves cheered and yelled, some raising their fists, the others embracing each other and sobbing. Cross carried the children on her shoulders, and the little ones laughed as Paradise burned. DeLoria sat near the Abolitionists’ caravan, speaking to a few of them while nursing a bruised rib, a confident grin on his face.

Everyone is celebrating, except for the two of us.

Percy drops to her knees and cries. Wordlessly, I took my place at her side, but I didn’t dare say anything.

She grabs and squeezes my hand, and I finally allowed myself to breathe.

“You’re free,” she whispers.

Just as quickly, she lets it go.

Now, it was time to lick our wounds.

Percy patched the injured up, including me. Her eyes never met mine, and she never said a word throughout the entire ordeal. My partner knelt in front of me, tending to the gunshot wound I had on my calf, but she doesn’t look at me.

As we said our goodbyes, we walked to where we parked the motorbike, almost two kilometers from Paradise Falls’ front gate. Percy hops on, but she doesn’t press herself against my back, opting to hold my sides.

“Let’s go home,” she finally mumbles.

I couldn’t help but overthink the entire journey home.

Was getting rid of the contract a mistake? Is Percy done with me?

Is she going to kick me out of her home? Where will I go?

What the fuck am I going to do without her?

Why isn’t she talking to me?

January 12, 2278.

I was anxious for hours.

When we arrived in Megaton, Percy didn’t even stop by Gob’s Saloon to fetch Dogmeat. She just kept marching on. Without breathing a word, I followed her home.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind us, not minding the cold, Percy strips to her underclothes as she drags her feet to the kitchenette, struggling with the buckles of her armor. The faucet was running, and I heard her shiver as she tended to herself.

Then, I hear the refrigerator door opening and closing shut. She emerges from the kitchenette with a half-empty bottle of scotch in her hand, and she sits on the sofa, taking a long swig from the bottle. Fresh bandages were on her scrapes from the fight. Percy takes off her glasses and I see it clearer now, the darkening circles under her eyes from all the things she had to deal with.

Now, she has to deal with me too.

“Percy,” I mumble, building the courage to speak to her.

“Talk to me. Please?” It was my turn to use that word.

The two centuries of being bound to my contract felt longer than the silence between my question and her response.

“Come sit,” she tells me.

I do as she says.

We sat on the opposite sides of the sofa, just a few inches between each other, but it feels like she’s worlds away.

I decided that I did not like this feeling.

“Should I still call you Charon, or should I start calling you Artyom?”

I blinked at her a few times.

Tonight, I am reminded that I wasn’t always ‘Charon’. I remember my old name, the one that my mother gave me, but that child was a different person from who I became, and who I am now. That boy is long gone. But now… Now I’m not even a man.

Tonight I am reminded that I am a monster, inside and out.

“Charon.”

She went silent after that, expression blank.

“Artyom Volkov is long dead. He died when the Enclave’s predecessors took him,” I added.

Percy puts the bottle down, and her eyes flick towards me. Wet. Wary. Afraid.

It hurts to see it.

“Charon, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to say. I know you were involved in the Sino-American war but…” Percy starts, pressing her knees against her chest.

“Hearing it come from that slaver’s mouth… It’s still pretty jarring. It scared me.”

I gulped.

No, not fear.

I’d rather she hate me than fear me.

My eyes trailed to her shivering form and out of instinct, I stood up, my feet taking me upstairs. I come back with a blanket from her room, and I drape it around her shoulders. I intended to leave her alone after that. But before I can take my hand away, she touches it, and she pulls me back on the couch. Wrapping the blanket around herself, she settles on my lap, back pressed against my chest. Before I can stop myself, I draw her closer to me.

I’m certain she can feel my heart hammering hard on her back.

“None of the conditioning you went through is your fault. I really do believe that.”

“But?” I ask her. I felt like there was going to be a ‘but”.

“But nothing. Charon, I’m sorry for not talking to you. I’m still absorbing what the hell just happened. I was emotional, I was having irrational thoughts and… and I didn’t want to say anything that will hurt you.”

“I understand.”

The tightness in my chest dissipates little by little, and I press my face against the back of Percy’s head. I can smell smoke, gunpowder, Abraxo, and a scent that was hers alone.

“Remember what I said months ago, about how I’ll refrain from discussing your past unless you want to talk about it?” Percy asks me, looking up and leaning against my right shoulder.

I nod. I’m afraid where this conversation is leading to.

“Let’s just rip the entire band-aid off. Can I ask you some things now?”

I knew it.

“I’m afraid that what you think of me will change once you hear all of my sins,” is my response, and I look away from her. I wasn’t ready to confront that part of myself yet.

I wasn’t ready to hear what she said after that, either.

“Hey. I want to let you know, no matter what I’ll learn about your history, or what people say about you, you’re still the Charon I know. You’re still the Charon who kept my impulsive ass in check, the Charon who carries me gently whenever I’m injured or shitfaced. You’re still the Charon who stuck by me as we wiped off that slaver shithole off the map, the same Charon who broke free from centuries of being tied to that fucking piece of paper. You’ll always be my Charon.”

My eyes are starting to get wet.

Goddammit, Percy.

Without saying anything, I buried my face into her hair, and I did the best I could to hold back my tears. We stayed like that for what seemed like hours.

“Besides,” she finally breaks the silence. “I don’t think I have the heart to hear what they forced you to do either. I want to ask about who you were as Artyom Volkov.”

I scratch my head, or what skin left on it anyway. “Angel, as much as I would like to, I was sixteen when they changed my name and deemed me ready. I’m afraid there’s not much to tell. I’ve lived for more than two centuries, and sixteen years seems insignificant now.”

“Well, I’m just about to turn twenty next month, so excuse my differing perception on the flow of time,” Percy chuckles, eyeing her photograph with her father on the wall.

She turns around to face me. I lie back on the sofa, and she lies prone on top of me, chin resting on my chest. “Let’s start small. You mentioned your dad before. Tell me about him.”

I let myself smile a little. Propping my head against one arm, I’m ready to tell her everything I can remember.

“His name’s Ilya. I can’t quite remember his face, but he was big. Like a yao guai.”

Percy giggles.

“Yeah, definitely like you. Tell me more about him. What was he like?”

“He made me feel safe. During the winter he’ll take his ushanka out of the attic and tell me about the place he came from. I remember wanting to wear his hat. He said that one day I’d grow into it, but he was killed before that could happen,” I tell Percy, and she gives me a sympathetic look.

Not pity again. I need to change the subject. “We spent Saturdays fishing. I barely saw him during the weekdays.”

“Huh. What did he do?”

“I can’t remember, but on Sundays, my father used to bring people from work in the house, and they’d sit and talk for hours. I couldn’t comprehend what they were discussing together.”

“What did they talk about?” Percy asks.

“I’m not sure. Once, I asked him what the meetings are about, and he told me that they’re talking about how they can be paid better at work, so he can bring home more food for us.”

Percy crawls a little closer. “Sounds like he was in a labor union.”

“A what?”

“A labor union. I don’t know when unions first showed up, but history class from the vault taught me a little about the ones from the era before the Great War. Resources became scarce, so did wages. People worked long hours for very little pay. Workers banded together to demand better benefits from their employers. Mr. Brotch told us that what the laborers did was fair, and I think I agree,” Percy explains, a stray lock of hair on her forehead.

I brushed it off gingerly, my fingers brushing against her skin. She leans into my touch.

“In hindsight, it was probably their meetings that led to them being accused as Reds,” she adds.

I paused, pondering on the information Percy shared with me.

“You know, come to think of it, he always came home late and tired. My mother was always worried about him.”

At the mention of the word mother, Percy’s eyes flick to mine. There was a certain kind of sadness in them. I felt a twinge in my chest.

“What was your mother like, Charon? What was it like to have a mom?”

“Her name’s Annika. She was gentle to me. Protective too. Scolded the kids who made fun of my difficulties in reading. Aside from singing me lullabies, she used to make me the thinnest pancakes. She called them blins. Having a mother who looked after me was nice. I felt cared for.”

“That… that sounds amazing.”

My breath hitches at my throat.

“I loved her very much. I loved both of them very much.”

Percy strokes my arm, hand soft against my rough skin and hardened muscles. “Was there anyone else in your family? Like a sibling?”

“I didn’t have brothers or sisters, but I did have an aunt. Katya. She was my father’s younger sister.”

“What do you remember about her?”

“The last time I saw her was to visit her during her birthday, Her hair was red too. I didn’t know what happened to her after I was taken away.”

“And what was Aunt Katya like?”

“Loud. Chatty. She talked my ear off for hours, though there were some things she said that I didn’t understand a child, and can’t remember now. I loved her too.”

“I see,” my partner replies, yawning and stretching.

Then, Percy asks me a question that made me hold my breath.

“Was there anyone else you loved aside from family, Charon?”

You.

Wait. Stop. Damn, and I almost said it out loud.

I care for Percy. I really do. But is it love?

Fuck, I’m still figuring it out.

“The indoctrination didn’t leave much room for that. We were actively discouraged from forming any attachments to anyone except our employers,” I tell her instead.

I felt Percy sag against me. She rests her cheek against my chest.

“I’m sorry.”

“There was someone I cared for despite the conditioning, though,” I tell her.

“Who?”

“Her name was Magwayen. I called her Mag, I couldn’t remember her name before she was inducted. When I was brought to the facility as a child, she cared for me.”

Percy holds my gaze, silently asking me to continue.

“I think she was about your age when I met her. I was a lot shorter than her back then. By the time I was inducted, she was our medic. I was their demolition guy.”

Thinking about Mag, my brain started to itch again.

“Now that I’ve thought about it, you two are similar.”

Head perking up, Percy gives me a curious look. “Oh? Aside from our age and our background in medicine, what else did we share?”

“She was Asian too, I think. Had dark hair like yours, but it was longer. You both had strong principles. She managed to fake being subservient to survive. I was supposed to report her for that, but she was kind. It became our secret.”

Percy gives me a soft smile. “I have a feeling Mag and I would’ve gotten along.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah. And you were both short as hell.”

With a laugh, Percy gives my chest a playful shove. “Making fun of me now? Oh Charon, how could you?” she asks, her voice dripping with mock hurt.

“Now that the contract’s gone, I can tease you without the fear of you selling it.”

“As if my conscience is capable of letting me do that,” she replies, now with genuine hurt. Shit.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that.”

Percy blinks at me.

“I do not want to admit it, but you selling my contract became one of my worst fears. I didn’t expect you to free me from it.”

To my surprise, this angel leans forward and kisses me at my temple, where I had pointed a gun at a few hours ago.

“I didn’t free you from it. I just helped you. You did that yourself, big guy. I’m proud of you.”

I fell asleep smiling.

??? ??, ????.

I feel an unwelcome weight above me.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t looking into eyes with the color of Pre-War chocolate anymore. They’re green, reminding me of the Wasteland’s radioactive sky.

Recoiling in horror, I blurted her name.

“Vanth.”

She wraps her hands around my neck, and I was in hell all over again.

“Charon.”

“Vanth, no. Stop! Get the fuck off me,” I growl at her. “Percy, where are you?”

“She can’t save you now.”

In the corner of my eye, I see Percy, her skull and brains strewn on the metal floor.

No...

Powerless, I just let it fucking happen.

All of a sudden, I can hear Percy’s voice.

“Charon, wake up,” Percy whispers with urgency, gently shaking me awake.

I saw her face, and crushed her against my chest.

“Nightmare?”

I nod.

“Hey, who’s Vanth?”

[baijingshen]

@chordbound​ sent: Motor - Our muses having sex in a car – modern nieyao B) [NSFW]

          They were just going to talk BUSINESS, that was the plan, the whole intention behind this meeting. Maybe Nie Mingjue is lying to himself a little bit when he thinks that - but it really doesn’t fucking matter what his intentions were at any point of the night when Meng Yao is sitting in his lap, grinding down on his already growing erection and whispering sweet obscenities into his ear. He could be saying just about anything; when they’re together like this the sound of his voice alone is enough to get Mingjue’s blood pumping. His hands are roaming, stroking over the smooth fabric of Yao’s shirt and feeling the heat of his skin underneath it. It makes him want to tear it off, just rip it to shreds and ravage him.. but that’s not so simple.

     “Back,” Mingjue grunts as he breaks away from kissing Yao for a moment, deciding, after hitting his knee on the steering wheel - twice - and his hand on the gear shift, that doing this in the driver’s seat is simply IMPOSSIBLE. Meng Yao says something that sounds suspiciously like ‘bossy’ but complies regardless, demonstrating a noteworthy flexibility by climbing out of Mingjue’s lap and into the back of the car through the gap between the driver and the passenger seat without any trouble. Nie Mingjue only considers following suit for a second before he decides that he is too old for this and gets out of the car through the driver’s door to join Meng Yao on the backseat the old-fashioned way.

He’s over him in a heartbeat, pressing him down into the leather seats with the weight of his own body, their lips back to kissing HUNGRILY, like they’ve both been craving this for months. (It hasn’t been months, but weeks. What else but intense longing could make them behave like horny teenagers, getting it on in a car in the relative darkness of the company’s underground carpark?) Meng Yao’s hands are moving over Mingjue’s body nimbly, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it from his pants after opening the button there too. Mingjue is far less elegant about it, just tears Yao’s shirt open after failing to open the last few buttons without looking down. It earns him a scolding look and a sigh but he only counters it with an unusually mischievous smile.      “I’ll buy you a new one,” he whispers against Meng Yao’s lips and for a moment he feels the other’s hand on his arm tighten. “I can buy my own shirts, Mr. Nie,” Yao says and a shiver runs down Mingjue’s spine at the way he addresses him. Meng Yao is doing it on purpose and he knows exactly what it does to him. Nie Mingjue is sure of that, mostly because he’s heard his first name from Yao’s lips before - albeit gasped and barely intelligible. (A good memory.)

Meng Yao’s hands are in his hair, his lips on his jaw, and Mingjue tries to get out of his pants, at least partially, bumping into the driver’s seat with his elbow and into the door behind him with his foot. A frustrated groan escapes him that makes Yao pause for a moment and look up.      “Something wrong?” he asks and Mingjue swears the look on his face is the same one he’s seen there whenever a point of disagreement comes up in the negotiations and Yao goes straight into fixing it mode. It’s equally as entertaining as it is impressive. “I’m too big,” he explains, pushing himself up a bit by resting his hands next to Yao’s body. The look on Meng Yao’s face turns into a lewd smile. “I’ve found you to fit quite perfectly, Nie Mingjue..” he says with the voice of an angel and Mingjue’s cheeks heat up with a blush that the darkness inside the car luckily swallows.

     “For the car,” he explains even though he has no doubt that Meng Yao understood exactly what he meant. “Oh.. we could--” Yao starts but Mingjue doesn’t let him finish. Moving one arm under his body he pulls him against his chest while shifting from hovering horizontally into sitting on the backseat the way it was actually designed, with Yao in his lap.      “Much better.” Nie Mingjue takes a moment to admire the man sitting on him, his mussed up hair and his big dark eyes that catch the glow of a faint light outside the car. He’s so beautiful it makes Mingjue’s heart roar with love and desire and an ugly violent need, somewhere deep down, to POSSESS him. He shouldn’t feel this way. This can’t be more than what it is now; a string of stupidly careless meetings somewhere in the dark, a temporary weakness, an indulgence. And yet.. to think that this is going to end and he won’t be allowed to touch Meng Yao anymore.. it makes Mingjue’s heart sting.

     “What are you looking at?” Meng Yao asks, his hand brushing over Mingjue’s cheek, thumb stroking over his lower lip. Mingjue opens his mouth and takes it between his lips for a moment, brushing his tongue against the tip. Everything I ever wanted, Mingjue thinks and, “You,” he says. Meng Yao smiles and withdraws his hand as he leans in. The kiss they share is sweeter than the ones who came before, slower and gentler somehow, but the heat and desperation returns to their touches not long after. Mingjue’s hands tug at Meng Yao’s pants until he lifts off his lap to slip out of them (and his underwear), pushing them down his legs until he can get one of them free. As tempting as it is to sit back and watch the show, Nie Mingjue uses the time to push his own pants down to his knees, finally freeing his cock, which is achingly hard by now. Meng Yao seems PLEASED by the sight, judging by the smile that flashes over his face as he moves back on Mingjue’s lap, not quite sitting down yet but being close enough their bodies touch and draw a gasp from him.

He seems to consider teasing Mingjue for a second, his hand reaching between them to curl around him and give him a few slow strokes, but it’s apparent he doesn’t have the patience for it anymore either. Remembering something, he reaches for his discarded pants and produces a bottle of lube that brings back memories of their last encounter.      “Planned ahead?” Nie Mingjue asks and Meng Yao shoots him a look that implies he, too, is thinking of last time. Yao shuffles closer, his knees on the seat next to Mingjue’s thighs, and pours some lube onto his palm. Mingjue notices some of it dribbling onto the leather between his legs but can’t find it in himself to care. His mouth goes a little dry when he watches Yao’s fingers, slick with lube, move between his legs and push inside him without any hesitation. It’s not the first time they do this and realistically neither one of them has the patience to draw this out, but Mingjue can’t help feel a light pang of disappointment over the fact that he won’t get to watch Meng Yao prepare himself properly. It’s just his fingers pushing in and out a few times before his hand withdraws and wraps around Mingjue’s dick instead, the gel nice and warm from Yao’s hand as he spreads it on him. (His treatment is equally short, Meng Yao’s impatience quite palpable.)

The hand is wiped clean on Mingjue’s shirt - some kind of payback he assumes - and then finally - Meng Yao sinks down on him and Mingjue’s head falls back against the car seat. He stays still until he’s bottomed out, Yao’s thighs flat on his, but his hands move to his hip and ever so slightly pull him down more. Meng Yao is hot and tight and the way he arches his back is driving Mingjue crazy. He’s not sure if Yao actually needs the time he takes before he moves or if he’s doing it just to TORTURE him, but it’s all he can do to stay still and wait. When Yao finally moves again it draws a breathy curse from Nie Mingjue’s lips.

     They move at a steady but fast pace right away, the car moving comically beneath them, but neither of them care. Mingjue’s fingers dig into the soft flesh at Yao’s hip, pulling every time he comes down to thrust up a little harder. He’s not the one who sets the pace but it gives him some semblance of control - not that he NEEDS it. Meng Yao’s hands grab the edge of the backrest behind Mingjue, fingers digging into the leather as he holds on for better leverage, riding him hard enough it takes both their breath away. The air is filled with their gasps and the sound of skin on skin, the windows of the car fogging up around them. If anyone walked by them in this moment there would be no doubt about what’s going on inside, but that thought is not a conscious one in Mingjue’s head at this moment.

He doesn’t need long to feel hot white pleasure building inside him, every time Meng Yao sinks down on him bringing him closer to the edge, but he barely pays attention to himself. He’s mesmerized watching Yao move in his lap, the way his body moves and his muscles tighten, seeing the little crease on his forehead that forms when he closes his eyes with that look of concentration on his face that he gets when he’s chasing his own pleasure like this, fucking himself on Mingjue’s cock as determinedly as he does everything else. It’s almost better than reaching his own climax, watching Yao lose his composure for a moment and his movements lose rhythm when Mingjue’s hand slips between them and curls around him, giving him a few rough dry strokes, just enough to push him over. His back arches and the sweetest sound comes over his lips as he spills himself all over Mingjue’s stomach and chest, clenching down around him involuntarily.

     “Fuck..” Mingjue groans, his hand moving back to Yao’s hip. If it were anyone else he’d expect them to slow down now, float on their own high, but Meng Yao is not anyone else. He only takes a moment to collect himself before he picks up where he left off, riding him as if he didn’t just come, and Mingjue finds himself lost in thoughts about HOW LONG Yao could keep going like this, when he’s gripped by his own orgasm that hits him like a train. His hands pull Yao down as he thrusts up one last time, a low moan on his lips as he comes. It feels better than it should to come inside Meng Yao and Mingjue is aware that he is going to have to make up for it somehow.

They’re both left panting and slowly coming down from their high, Mingjue’s heartbeat beginning to normalize again. Meng Yao falls forward against him and Mingjue’s arms warp around his back. He places a few kisses on his neck, tasting a bit of salt on his skin.      “Maybe.. some day I’ll actually get to have you in my bed.”