#twin prides of yunmeng my beloveds

[cavernofdragons]

i bang my head because the only thought i have is “mmm but what if this song went with [insert character here]”

[nutcasewithaknife]

Can't help but think about how much of Jiang Cheng’s 'I am nothing without my core' outburst when he wakes up after losing it is not because he needs to be the best but because he just lost the only thing he could do for his mother after she died. If it would've mattered less to him once he'd gotten the time to mourn her loss. If he stays up at night thinking about how all his accomplishments so far were possible because of Wei Wuxian's core, and how that would've disappointed her even more. If he thinks that she would've let Wei Wuxian give him his core had she been around back then, and feels an old but horribly familiar anger burn through him. If he still curses her for her last words to Wei Wuxian and curses himself for parroting them. If he curses Wei Wuxian for believing them.

Can't help but wonder if his dedication to the sect was to protect its people and those who depended on it just as much as it was about continuing a legacy, upholding his duty. If he really did all that to make his dead mother proud and earn his dead father's respect, if these considerations ever took first place in the light of day where he had a sect and a nephew to look after, or got relegated to the late hours when he lay awake, haunted by the past. Can't help but wonder if he ever saw Jin Ling cry, realised that his own mother would've scolded him for showing weakness, and decided that what she thought mattered less than he'd realised.

Can't help but wonder how much his mother still haunts his life.

[juiceboxerr]

i coukd go in a long rant about jiang cheng and maybe, one day, i will

[korpikorppi]

FANFICS! Part Two

My previous fanfic post reached the maximum length for a post (or so I was told by Tumblr), so here is the sequel to the list of links to the Untamed - Mo Dao Zu Shi fanfics I've read and enjoyed. As with the previous one, I'll be adding to this post (and reblogging this) every once in a while, and there's also a link to this in my pinned post. And as before, I will also move the previously posted content behind a cut at every update.

A bit of a warning: I tend to like my stories set in the canon universe, so no modern AUs here (ok, I may be persuaded to read some good reincarnation fics, perhaps); this is also mostly Wangxian, but some other ships make appearences occasionally.

And further note for those who venture into the explicit territory: service top Lan Wangji my beloved + in this house we also acknowledge bottom Lan Wangji rights.

So, here we go (again)!

*updated March 8th, 2022*

Love lies beyond words by acrosticacrumpet

Jiang Cheng & Wei Wuxian, general, words: 4 754, chapters: 1/1

post-canon, whump, angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical dysfunctional relationships, Yunmeng Shuangjie reconciliation, not a completed reconciliation but the beginning of one, Twin Prides of Yunmeng feels, self-worth issues, Wei Wuxian's notoriously poor self-worth vs Jiang Cheng's legendary rejection sensitivity: FIGHT, painful conversations with a tasteful smidgeon of, cuddling & snuggling

Wei Wuxian is struck by a curse that drains his spiritual energy, and makes him allergic to anyone else's. He is going to die - unless he receives energy from the golden core that was once his.

Or: The longest - but not the worst - night of Jiang Cheng's life.

And he sang about the stars by nenyanaryavilya

Lan Xichen & Lan Wangji, Wangxian, mature, words: 29 911, chapters: 1/1

brotherhood, growing up together, canon compliant, canon-typical violence, angst, grief/mourning, this is a canon-adjacent fic so like war and war crimes and all that jazz, desecration of the dead and pining, the usual, Lan Xichen has a no good very bad awful late adolescence and early adulthood, canonical character death

"Xichen has loved his brother so much he thinks his heart might bear him ill will at this point. He will always ache when he is gone, like one of his arms is missing. He will try to soothe his brother’s troubled heart for a thousand years, if loving this boy is what will bring Wangji the most happiness, but it pricks at him like a doctor’s needles to see his brother’s open devotion treated like nothing by its very object."

----

Lan Xichen and the brother he loved and nearly lost.

The stone-filled sea by yukla

Lan Sizhui & Wei Wuxian, Wangxian, teen and up, words: 9 093, chapters: 1/1

post-canon, the juniors, Senior Wei defense squad, a study of the way prejudice and injustice and anger trickle down from generation to generation

He forgets how quickly Wei-qianbei changes faces, sometimes. Like pulling a theater mask over a bruise—color over color, a diversion with the swipe of his hand.

Lan Sizhui navigates a world that hates his father, one endless wave at a time.

The fire lapping up the creek by notevenyou

Wangxian, explicit, words: 66 299, chapters: 6/6

graphic depictions of violence, alternate universe - canon divergence, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, injury, injury recovery, blood, respiratory illness, major illness, fever, grief/mourning, Burial Mounds, angst with a happy ending, implied/referenced suicide, hunger and food scarcity, surgery, fix-it of sorts

Wei Wuxian travels to Lanling for his nephew’s one-month celebration alone, without Wen Ning.

Lan Wangji lives with the consequences.

Something yet to learn by Glitterbombshell

Part 1 of Joy in the midst of these things

Wangxian, teen and up, words: 16 188, chapters: 4/4

emotional hurt/comfort, light angst, angst with a happy ending, fluff, Wei Ying would be a Good Teacher fight me

“Wei Wuxian,” the man grits out, and he pauses with one hand reaching for the door handle. The disciple who had come in to speak to Lan Qiren brushes past him and exits the pavilion without a backwards glance. Wei Wuxian turns back to Master Lan, one eyebrow tilting up in question. “An urgent matter has come up,” Lan Qiren says, every word sounding like it’s being forcibly dragged from him. “His Excellency requests my presence. Their current instructor is ill, I was meant to take over classes for today,” he continues, gesturing towards the tiny juniors. He swallows heavily, and the next sentence sounds bitter. Choked. “I cannot leave them unattended.”

Wei Wuxian just blinks at him.

Or, Wei Wuxian is asked (under duress) to babysit a class of tiny Lan cultivators for just a few minutes. A few minutes turns into an hour, turns into two hours, turns into an impromptu literal field trip and now there's an entire class that is weeks ahead of their curriculum, their most junior disciples have apparently imprinted on Wei Wuxian like baby birds, and Lan Qiren has no one to blame but himself.

A lot of edges called perhaps by hansbekhart

Wangxian, explicit, words: 21 922, chapters: 1/1

semi-public sex, public masturbation, mutual masturbation, anal sex, sex in the cold springs, mutual pining, grief/mourning, injury recovery, ethical dilemmas, this story had two working titles, Ethical Edging, and Boners for Justice, it takes a long time for them to bone but they get there, risk aware consensual patience, edgeplay sort of, 20K words of sad horniness, happy ending, just the tip but not the way you're thinking

The funny part is - and it is a little funny, even if Wei Wuxian has no one left to share the joke with - they never have. Not anything. He has never kissed any part of Lan Zhan besides his slim hands; never been even partially undressed with him anywhere besides a miserable, xuanwu-infested cave. It’s always been like this between them, this simmering need, this desperate understanding: a knowledge so deep that it lives somewhere in his bones, that if he wanted to have Lan Zhan he could have him, and if Lan Zhan wanted Wei Wuxian he could have that too. But they never have.

This story uses CQL characterizations and storyline specifically.

One rogue spark in my direction by hansbekhart

Songxiao / Lan Wangji, explicit, words: 5065, chapters: 1/1

threesome, oral sex, anal sex, spitroasting, anal fingering, switching, touch-starved, grief/mourning, sexual healing, the mortifying ordeal of being known, a deep and human desperation for queer companionship, that escalated quickly, emotional noodle eating, Lift Lan Wangji's Skirts Challenge 2020

He’d thought, in Yueyang, that they’d seen something in each other, something familiar. That maybe they’d recognized something in him. But it’s been many years, and many things have happened since, and he’s guessed wrongly at other people’s hearts before. Lan Wangji looks back down at the table, at his steaming, bitter tea. He’ll beg if he has to.

Just in case anyone was wondering who Lan Wangji had been banging before A lot of edges called perhaps.

Linger in the sun by etymologyplayground

Wangxian, teen and up, words: 39 400, chapters: 1/1

case fic, intimacy, curses, canon compliant, post-canon, cuddling & snuggling, getting together, romance, sexual tension, scent kink...m.. maybe?, WWX loves to teach, fluff, this is so long and it is mostly. nonsexual intimacy! you're welcome, scars, sharing a bed, nonverbal communication, HEAVY on symbolism

"Tell Lan Zhan that I'm weeping uncontrollably," Wei Wuxian says to the juniors. "Tell him I'm truly pitiful and he needs to do everything I say until I'm well again."

Lan Congyi is in the middle of carefully holding his eyelids open to check his pupils, but he still obeys, bless him. "Hanguang-Jun, Senior Wei would like us to tell you that he can't stop crying and he'd like for you to do everything he says until he's better." There's a moment of silence, and then Lan Congyi says to Wei Wuxian, "Hanguang-Jun says he already does everything you tell him."

----

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji find themselves cursed, unable to see or hear each other. They figure things out anyway.

*updated January 5th, 2022*

From my heart's ground by orange_crushed

Wangxian, explicit, words: 37 997, chapters: 1/1

graphic depictions of violence, alternate universe - canon divergence, grief/mourning, corporal punishment, canon-typical violence, vomiting, injury recovery, trauma, blood magic, elemental magic, gardens & gardening, resurrection, dissociation, explicit sexual content, first time, oral sex, language of flowers, angst with a happy ending, family, cultivation... literally, arson, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, spiritual coma, self-esteem issues

After a while he can feel a palm against his face, gentle fingers soft and soothing. It’s not real, not exactly: he can tell the difference between a ghost’s touch and a living person’s, between a spirit-vision and an overactive imagination. His education has been thorough. But the beating has also been thorough, so for now he forgets what he knows and leans into it, into the hand cupping his cheek. It’s soft and dry as those forgotten petals, as the touch of a pillow. He can smell wildflowers, can taste blood and dirt. My baby, his mother says, and he closes his eyes. My treasure. He barely remembers the sound of her voice, but the feeling of it is just the same. Just the same as ever.

In which Lan Wangji loses almost everything, plants a garden, and grows a second chance.

Countless roads by SunBlueSun

Wangxian, explicit, words: 5 518, chapters: 1/1

accidental voyeurism, switching, top/bottom versatile Lan Wangji, top/bottom versatile Wei Wuxian, porn with feelings, minor original character(s), love, Hanguang Jun has flowers in his hair

A traveling cultivator finds herself in treed like a cat while Hanguang Jun and the resurrected Yiling Patriarch have sex in a field of flowers and it makes her rethink her entire life.

Only warning I guess is accidental voyeurism and they never find out there was a witness. It's pretty simple and switchy, just boys in love and devoted to each other. (This is CQL 'verse and LWJ is way more of a service top than an unrelenting dom, and naturally there's switching because he's a sweet bottom as well isn't he?)

These colours fade for you only by doodlebutt

Wangxian, teen and up, words: 36 329, chapters: 17/17

alternate universe - canon divergence, fix-it, fluff and angst, angst with a happy ending, everybody lives, golden core transfer, golden core transfer fix-it...eventually, hurt/comfort, nightmares, bed sharing, mutual pining, like really unreasonable amounts of pining, slow burn, as in 'practically begging these idiots to kiss' slow burn, sunshot campaign, canon-typical blood and injury, the horrifying ordeal of figuring things out that in hindsight you REALLY didn't want to know, hand to hand combat with the canon plot, playing fast and loose with cultivation concepts, little sweet baby a-yuan, with a very brief cameo by little sweet baby jingyi

What if, before Wen Chao found Wei Wuxian in Yiling, Lan Wangji went looking for him?

What if...

"Tell me who did this to you."

"Aiya, Lan Zhan, I really don't know what you're -- ah!"

Lan Zhan tugged hard on the blue line that bound them together, and Wei Wuxian all but flew across the room, crashing into the bed with a pained groan and sinking to his knees on the floor. He supposed, slightly hysterically, that this must be something like what Jiang Cheng had felt when he had hit Wei Wuxian with all the force of a biting insect the day after his rescue.

"You have no spiritual energy."

"Haha, Lan Zhan, that's funny, because actually it's just that I --"

"You have no golden core."

This diverges from MDZS canon rather than CQL (so no yin iron, etc).

All the silver moons by milkcrates

Wangxian, explicit, words: 10 007, chapters: 1/1

hurt/comfort, post-canon, getting together, first-time, 10k words of TENDER, let wwx take care of lwj agenda, brought to you by: the inherent intimacy of saying each other's names

"Hey," says Wei Ying. It's the softest his voice has gone tonight, but he's close enough for Lan Wangji to– touch him, kiss him– hear him. "Eyes on me."

Wei Ying, thinks Lan Wangji, always.

And he passes out.

-

Lan Wangji gets injured on a night hunt, Wei Wuxian takes care of him, and lots of feelings are had.

Seldom all they seem by Fahye

Part 1 of Marriage Principles

Wangxian, explicit, words: 24 930, chapters: 1/1

alternate universe - canon divergence, arranged marriage, or rather arranged betrothal, followed by weapons-grade thirst

or, one hundred and thirty-three principles of the Gusu Lan, pertaining to the state of marriage

***

He bows to Wei Wuxian, sword in hand, sleeves falling properly. Wei Wuxian bows in return, and the sect leaders begin the opening courtesies, and for all of ten minutes Lan Wangji is under the impression that he is betrothed to a boy who is perfectly normal and acceptable apart from an unfortunate tendency to fidget with his clothes.

That impression does not last.

Half cloak & half dagger by Fahye

Part 2 of Marriage Principles

Xiyao, explicit, words: 13 171, chapters: 1/1

alternate universe - canon divergence, kink negotiation (of a sort), good Lan boys marry murder gremlins: the saga continues

Jin Guangyao lifts his head and smiles. "I'm considering a problem."

"Can I be of any assistance with it?"

He drops a kiss on Lan Xichen's chest. With the nail of one finger he lightly traces the characters for irony on Lan Xichen's side. "Not this one, er-ge."

The unofficial subtitle to this is: Five times Jin Guangyao failed to get the ravishing he desperately wanted, and one time he did.

Stainless by Fahye

Wangxian, explicit, words: 6 576, chapters: 1/1

sex pollen

"I'm starting to feel," says Lan Xichen, "that this was a counterproductive suggestion."

Wei Wuxian looks down onto the pristine, tranquil cold springs of the Cloud Recesses. Sitting in the water, their bare shoulders rising like dumplings carefully spaced in a steaming-basket, are a large number of Lan disciples.

"They seem to be doing better," he says, encouragingly. "If they--oh, no, I see what you mean."

At the near bank, someone has pressed someone else against the rocks and is kissing them frantically.

In terms of TV show continuity, this takes place halfway through episode 43, just after Jin Guangyao leaves the Cloud Recesses.

I think, I wait, I hope by Littorella, rinsled05

Wangxian, teen and up, words: 4 070, chapters: 1/1

canon compliant, romance, pining, love, love confessions, falling in love

For years, Lan Wangji has waited. Held back his words, his heart, restrained by a lifetime of discipline. And now—now they are married, bound together for eternity, and the dam is breaking, especially with Wei Wuxian gazing at him as if he’s the lucky one, when it has always been the other way around.

Perhaps now is the time.

Or, the many conversations Lan Wangji has with Wei Wuxian in his head - and one he tries to have in the moment.

*updated November 27th*

Waiting for the remedy by Lise

Wei Wuxian & Jiang Cheng, teen and up, words: 13 598, chapters 1/1

post-canon, Yunmeng Shuangjie reconciliation, minor injuries, POV Jiang Cheng, Jin Ling just doing the most, difficult emotional conversations, emotional baggage, Twin Prides of Yunmeng feels and dynamics, awkward conversations

This wasn’t the first time he’d been in proximity to Wei Wuxian, so he wasn’t going to panic over it or anything. He’d finish this night hunt, they’d go their separate ways again, and he’d have a firm conversation with Jin Ling about being an interfering busybody.

It’d be fine.

It is not fine. There's a cliff involved.

Series: No new age by everythingispoetry

Wangxian, Xiyao, Nielan, mature

alternate universe - canon divergence, angst, hurt/comfort, permanent injury, recovery, disability, parenthood, character study, thirteen years of Wei Wuxian's death, growing up, family dynamics, self-discovery, mental health issues, grief/mourning, families of choice, developing relationships

Part 1: The map of days

words: 20 442, chapters: 5/5

Surviving the thirty-three lashes is a miracle. Living after the thirty-three lashes is a curse.

Part 2: Although my mind is young, it is not gentle

words: 27 883, chapters: 4/4

Sizhui thinks about the heroes they've learned about in history class, the heroes of songs and poems. After the dust settles, the stories end and everything goes back to normal and everyone lives happily ever after.

Sizhui looks at his father and knows it's all a lie.

Part 3: Yours in no unique condition

words: 5 358, chapters: 1/1

War and love can take everything from a man.

Lan Xichen never thought he would be one of those to pay the price.

(a study.)

Part 4: The anteroom of golden age

words: 92 285, chapters: 9/9

"I no longer belong to the order of the world."

"Neither do I."

He was a boy, chewing on grass and lounging on the swooning bridges of Lotus Pier, just a blink of an eye ago.

Series: Promissory Notes by kakikaeru

Lan Jingyi/Lan Sizhui, Wangxian, Jin Ling/Ouyang Zizhen, teen and up

post-canon, mostly cql canon, canon-typical violence, that Good Jingyi Content, protect the unlannest Lan at all costs, Wangxian through a Juniors filter, vocal cultivation, Lan Jingyi the marble swan opera assassin of the Cloud Recesses, responsible sect leader Jin Ling, worried parents Wangxian, part 4 chapters are stand-alone stories:, chapter 1: they are so married, chapter 2: all the Ouyangs, chapter 3: you are my dad (boogie woogie), chapter 4: you get a baby and YOU get a baby and YOU! YOU GET A BABY, chapter 5: growing up is hard to do, chapter 6: Lan Jingyi no. 1 locker pinup of the Gusu Lan

Part 1: Anyway, here's Wuji

words: 18 045, chapters: 1/1

The melody gets a little clearer when he breaks out of the trees, and Jingyi changes course with certainty, barreling down the back hill and through the Cloud Recesses, dodging scandalized disciples left and right. He throws open the doors to the Receiving Hall without announcement and bows nearly double, eyes on the floor instead of on the shocked faces of the Mei delegation and the impenetrable gaze of the Chief Cultivator.

"Forgive this disciple," Jingyi shouts, because he's going to get punished for rule breaking regardless. "From the back hill, Hanguang-jun, there is a song in the wind!"

Lan Jingyi comes of age.

Part 2: Take your love and conquer

words: 4 088, chapters: 1/1

"Should we split up?" Zizhen asks. "They could have gone in any direction from here; I'll take one side and we'll meet on top of the cliff unless we find the trail again."

"No." There's protocol now, that as a Sect Leader, Jin Ling needs to follow. He takes a signal flare out of his sleeve, one of his personal ones, where a large golden peony blooms around a central purple lotus. It'll have Carp Tower mobilized in minutes, and probably also call his Uncle out of Lotus Pier if he isn't up to anything else. "We need a search party."

The story of the rescue.

Part 3: Ok, jiujiu

words: 16 384, chapters: 1/1

Uncle's jaw works in the way that suggests he's about to say something irredeemable. Jin Ling, in a move of diplomacy he hopes the Chief Cultivator appreciates, distracts him with spicy food and his favourite subject: the incompetence of his own officials.

"I hear the lakes in the south east are having drainage problems?" he asks nonchalantly, sticking three big slices of braised pork belly into his Uncle's bowl.

Jin Ling just wants to get through the Discussion Conference with his Sect, his dignity, and his heart intact.

Part 4: Grace notes, acciaccatura & appoggiatura

words: 18 580, chapters: 6/?

"Do you think," he asks, as Jingyi slides the guan into place, "that if fate had been different, we still would have met?"

Lan Sizhui has a complicated relationship with the past.

*Updated October 24th*

Hold your tongue and let me love by ilgaksu

Xiyao, explicit, words: 2 820, chapters: 1/1

There are a lot of things people don’t know about Lan Xichen. At least half of them, in Jin Guangyao’s estimation, hide in plain sight. He, as the focus of Lan Xichen’s sole and long-standing regard, is one of them. Zewu-jun’s honest opinions of his fellow gentry are another.

Tragedy is not the end by Hobbsy3

Wangxian, Xuanli, teen and up, words: 358 230, chapters: 67/67

graphic depictions of violence, major character death, People die but they (mostly) get better, alternate universe - time travel, torture, hurt/comfort, golden core reveal, canon divergence from Qiongqi Pass, angst with a happy ending, implied/referenced rape/non-con, because Jin Guangshan and Jin Zixun suck, Jiang Cheng is doing his best, Jiang Yanli fixes everything with soup and a baby, Jin Zixuan gets it together, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad Wei Wuxian, good dad Lan Zhan, junior quartet dynamics

When Sizhui, Jingyi, and Zizhen are captured with Jin Ling at the Guanyin Temple, they're sure that Hanguang Jun and Wei Wuxian will fix everything - until Su She stabs Lan Wangji through the stomach, and everything falls apart around them. In a last, frantic attempt to undo the damage Jin Guangyao has done, Wei Wuxian activates a deadly array to send the four juniors back in time, sending them to the morning of Jin Ling's one-month celebration. With the fate of everyone and everything they love in their hands, Sizhui, Jin Ling, Zizhen and Jingyi race to prevent the ambush at Qiongqi Pass and the subsequent fallout, but Jin Guangyao has returned from the future as well, and he has no intention of letting what he wants fall through his hands a second time.

Too gone to stay by Aenya

Wangxian, teen and up, words: 31 858, chapters: 7/7

Wei Wuxian-centric, canonical character death, in non-canonical ways, Wei Wuxian can have a little murder as a treat, canon divergence, canonical character death REVERSAL, canon-typical violence, novel canon, pre-relationship, happy ending

"Seems like it worked,” says a nearby voice.

Wei Wuxian looks in the direction of the speaker with a flinch, the light streaming in from the entryway momentarily blinding. He barely manages to stay upright.

"I guess he wasn’t so useless after all,” the second voice is calmer, and familiar to him.

"Welcome back, Yiling Laozu,” Jin Guangyao says.

or: Mo Xuanyu performs the resurrection ritual while he’s still living in Koi Tower.

Wei Wuxian can have a little murder? As a treat?...

Content warning: Romance by Ariaste

Wangxian, mature, words: 5 911, chapters: 1/1

BDSM, praise kink, nonsexual kink, which turns into sexual kink, WWX's canonical fetishes, kink negotiation, basically a mission to demonstrate to fandom that Kink Can Be Unbearably Soft Actually

Wei Wuxian just wants a little warning before Lan Wangji says nice things.

Lan Wangji just wants to love on his husband, thanks.

Walking Back To You by vesna (mrsronweasley)

Wangxian, teen and up, words: 20 189, chapters: 1/1

hurt/comfort, some graphic descriptions of an injury, getting together, good uncle Lán Qǐrén, wangxian-typical misunderstanding

They bring him in just before dawn. Wei Wuxian does not remember it, not really. He remembers nothing but pain.

Out to get you (to get you) by iliacquer

Wangxian, explicit, words: 41 571, chapters: 8/8

graphic depictions of violence, courtesan!LWJ,  assassin!LWJ, dark lord!WWX, switching, power play, bondage, mention of past attempted sexual assault on a minor, past slavery, happy ending

In order to kill the Demon of Yiling, assassin Lan Wangji pretends to be courtesan. Falling in love with Wei Wuxian is an unfortunate complication.

This is an AU where the Wen clan attack much, much earlier and that has all sorts of consequences for our favourite characters.

Grief kindly stopped by ShanaStoryteller

Wangxian, not rated (teen and up, maybe), words: 5 498, chapters: 1/1

alternate universe - canon divergence, identity porn, angst with a happy ending, POV Lan Wangji, AU after WWX gets dropped in the Burial Mounds, light horror, fix-it

Nothing leaves the Burial Mounds alive.

Always light my way by cqlorphan

Wangxian, explicit, words: 27 473, chapters: 3/3

post-canon, getting together, friends with benefits to lovers, wherein dual cultivation may be counted as a benefit, jealous WWX (a little bit), misunderstandings, mutual pining, pining while fucking, angsty sex, top/bottom versatile, topping from the bottom, orgasm delay/denial, coming untouched, dom/sub undertones, the angsty sex happens in the beginning but they get past it dw, blivious LWJ, archer WWX, smart WWX, porn with feelings, probably at least half of this fic is just that, also warning for panic attacks, angst with a happy ending, dual cultivation

Lan Wangji looks down at his own hands, steadying himself. It is easier to think clearly when he is not looking into Wei Wuxian’s eyes. He takes the scroll from his pouch.

“Research has uncovered a method,” he says. He does not mention the forbidden nature of said research, nor does he elaborate on the method itself. He will not venture to speak it aloud. He hands the scroll over.

Wei Wuxian looks at him for a long moment as he takes it, and Lan Wangji holds his breath, waiting for him to decide. Waiting to see if he is at least interested enough in the possibility of a new core to read it.

He is. He does. Lan Wangji might be relieved, if not for what comes next.

Lan Wangji offers to help Wei Wuxian develop a new golden core via dual cultivation. He struggles to keep his feelings in check.

*Posted August 25th*

Rotten work by ShanaStoryteller

Wangxian, Jin Ling & Wei Wuxian, not rated (teen and up, perhaps), words: 63 907, chapters: 8/8

post-canon, protective Wei Wuxian, protective Jin Ling, POV Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng & Wei Wuxian reconciliation, eventually, reluctant matchmaker Jin Ling, this kid is doing his best, pre- Jin Ling/Lan Jingyi

Jin Ling hadn’t thought to keep track of Wei Wuxian.

Clearly that had been a mistake.

Take my breath away by Tabi_essentially

Wangxian, teen and up, words: 3 387, chapters: 1/1

hurt/comfort, soulmates, POV alternating, this is not a coffee shop AU, canon universe, post-canon, in the future, love beyond death, reincarnarnation (kind of), implied Jiang Yanli/Wen Qing

On a hot, summer morning, Lan Wangji has a vision. Wei Wuxian has some ideas about it.

A civil combpaign by Ariaste

Zhuiling (Jin Ling/Lan Sizhui), backgroud Wangxian, teen and up, words: 19 645, chapters: 1/1

arranged marriage, the difficulty of arranging your own marriage, combs are the best courting gift, overly subtle courting or overly oblivious courtee?, awkward teenagers, teenage drama, Jin Ling has too many uncles, WangXian's weird flirting, Wei Wuxian's avuncular powers, humor

"And,” said one of the pompous ministers, “there’s the matter of a marriage to consider as well!” 

Jin Ling, who at the beginning of that sentence had expected to slam into the very last wall of his patience and lose his temper entirely, paused. “A what?”

Thing was… it wasn’t such a bad idea.

Besieged by Ariaste

Wangxian, background Zhuiling (Jin Ling/Lan Sizhui), mature, words: 11 370, chapters 1/1

companion fic, not quite a sequel, all the bits that Jin Ling missed, WWX POV, Wei Wuxian's avuncular powers, teenage drama, humor, let's interrogate LWJ's trauma, feelings, fluff, WWX believes children are the future, who DOES Sizhui take after?, answer: Zewu-jun, wangxian are so extremely married, you thought you'd seen Married before, this is maximum Married, WangXian's weird flirting, WWX's hunger for family

"Mn,” says Lan Zhan out of the blue one night. He has been playing guqin on the other side of the room without speaking for two hours, and Wei Wuxian has been noodling with some new ideas for talismans for nearly as long --one of those easy, quiet evenings of companionable silence, until Lan Zhan has thrown this enormous tantrum out of nowhere.

(A companion fic to "A Civil Combpaign". Read that one first.)

You'd break your heart to make it bigger by mrsronweasley

Wangxian, explicit, words: 32 542, chapters: 1/1

soulbonding, first time, case fic if you squint, fools in love, soul boning, pining while fucking

"Wei-gongzi? Wake up! Why won't he wake up? Wei Wuxian!"

Wei Wuxian's consciousness comes back as a slow rushing of sound. Voices, movement, something that sounds like fire crackling. It flickers behind his eyelids, so chances are, it's probably a fire. Then a shadow falls over him and he groans as he attempts to peel his eyes open. It's not an easy business—they somehow feel both dry and sticky at the same time, and when he manages to open them the tiniest bit, even the dim light around him feels like blinding sunlight. There's pressure in his chest, but at least his breathing is fine.

He has no idea what happened.

Or, Wei Wuxian finds himself in a pickle--and it involves Lan Wangji.

Vagabond by xantissa

Wangxian, explicit, words: 65 788, chapters: 20/20

slow burn, mystery, case fic, murders, supernatural, angst and hurt/comfort, extreme fluff, those two are so in love it hurts, frottage, oral sex, anal sex, happy ending, badass! Lan Xichen, canon-typical violence

Wei Wuxian comes back to Cloud Recesses after a year of wandering the world, hoping to start a relationship with Lan Zhan. He doesn’t expect to come into the middle of a case of sleeping sickness mysteriously killing people, nor does he expect what follows, putting everything he holds dear on the line once again.

Fanart that made me read this fic.

The absolutely true story of the Yiling Patriarch: A manifesto in many parts by aubreyli

Wangxian, teen and up, words: 19 692, chapters 7/7

in-universe RPF, romance novel, Lan Jingyi's sense of justice, Ouyang Zizhen's sense of romance, featuring a surprise appearance by Wei Wuxian's oft-absent sense of shame, look the ducklings just want their sort-of dads to be happy okay?, and it's not like WWX or LWJ are doing a good job of ensuring their own happiness, Jingyi rejects canon reality and substitutes his own, highly relatable actually, post-canon fix-it, primarily drama-canon with cameos from novel-canon

Wei Wuxian’s hand jolts, spilling a drop of wine onto the tabletop. “Love?” he croaks, then clears his throat and tries again. “Lan Zh— uh, Hanguang-jun, in love?”

"Have you not heard the story?” the other young woman asks, looking pitying. “You must, it is a truly heartrending tale of star-crossed romance and mutual pining — go to any storyhouse in town, everyone has been requesting a reading of this book.”

"There’s a book?” Wei Wuxian says blankly.

In which the junior disciples (namely, Lan Jingyi, Ouyang Zizhen, and a reluctant Lan Sizhui) turn to RPF in an attempt to rehabilitate Wei Wuxian's reputation so that he and Hanguang-jun can get together and get married and live happily ever after. It's... surprisingly effective.

I hope that you will come and meet me by feyburner

Wangxian, mature, words: 28 384, chapters: 1/1

post-canon, getting together, love letters, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling & snuggling, literal sleeping together, intimacy, CQL compliant, no plot just feelings, first time, two soulmates figuring their shit out, let Hanguang-jun talk about his feelings agenda

The second time Lan Zhan said Wei Ying, come back, Wei Wuxian did.

FANFICS! (previous rec post)

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 16

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wēn Qíng, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Granny Wēn, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Wēn Remnants, Wen Meilin (OC), Fourth Uncle, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Jiang Yanli, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Family, and they were married, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Feels, Sex Education, Implied Sexual Content, First Time, Aftercare, Morning After, Afterglow, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Hand Jobs, Chronic Pain, Biting, Conversations, Self-Sacrifice, POV Third Person, POV Lan WangJi

Summary: The Jiang siblings visit the Burial Mounds. Feels are had.

Warning: Involves bugs as food. For Notes, see end.

AO3 link

Chapters:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

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

Lan Wangji is unsurprised, and somewhat relieved, when Wen Qing takes one look at Wei Ying upon their return to the Burial Mounds and tells him to go take a nap with A-Yuan.

His husband had already been swaying dangerously in the Yiling market when they had bought supplies, and had tried to insist Jiang Yanli ride in the cart while he walk, though he had quickly been overruled when Wen Ning, of all people, pointed out they could both ride comfortably if someone had a qiankun pouch for their purchases. Jiang Wanyin had pulled one from his sleeve, one that seemed oddly full, and Wen Ning helped place their purchases in it.

“Get in the damn cart, moron,” the Jiang sect leader said when Wei Ying hesitated.

“A-Xian, come ride with me,” Jiang Yanli coaxed, taking his arm and steering him to it herself.

Wei Ying was exhausted enough to fall asleep on her shoulder, despite the bumpy ride, on the way back, A-Yuan snuggled in his sister’s arms. He doesn’t look particularly refreshed when they have to wake him.

Despite his exhaustion, Wei Ying still tries to argue against a nap, eying his siblings, clearly considering their visit more important than his health. Lan Wangji finds his disregard for his own well-being concerning, but is well aware it isn’t unusual, just something they need to break him of. 

“I told them,” he says. “In town. I bet they have questions, and—”

“I can answer their questions, Wei Wuxian!” she cuts in. “I performed the surgery, after all. You’re delegating the task to me and going to take a nap before I bring out the needles—don’t think I won’t knock you out.”

The mention of her needles clearly cows him, but he still seems hesitant. 

“It’s our turn to take care of things,” Jiang Wanyin says, not looking at him. “You’ve done enough, Wei Wuxian.”

“More than enough,” Jiang Yanli murmurs, and reaches forward to pull him into a gentle hug. “Let us take care of our A-Xian, hm?”

Wei Ying seems frozen for a moment in the embrace, but relaxes into it. Lan Wangji can see him tremble as he hugs her back, and he knows, for the moment, they’ve won. It’s a small triumph, but at this point he’ll take it. 

“Okay, shijie,” he says finally. “Xianxian will take a nap with Yuanyuan.”

She lets him go and pats his cheek in a way that reminds Lan Wangji of his mother when he was very young. 

A-Yuan insists on giving his guma a hug before he lets Wei Ying take his hand and lead him toward the cave. 

“Go with him,” Wen Qing insists, to his surprise. 

It must show somehow, because she sighs. 

“I told you when you came: you take care of him. That’s your job. I’ll take care of this—I wrote Jiang-guniang, after all.”

Lan Wangji nods, privately relieved his presence isn’t required for this conversation. He bows to each of them before leaving, including Wen Qing as a thank you even though it makes her huff in embarrassment. 

As he takes longer strides to catch up with Wei Ying, he can hear Jiang Yanli speak to Wen Qing in a sweet voice that is likely terrifying up close in how it utterly fails to hide her ferocious protectiveness of her beloved adoptive brother—he mentally wishes Wen Qing luck. 

He picks up A-Yuan and gets a startled glance from Wei Ying, who is not quite to the point of barely standing, but close enough that Lan Wangji wraps his free arm around him to steady him as they make their way to the cave. 

A-Yuan babbles sleepily about having a new aunt and uncle, having been largely unaffected by the tension in town, and before long they’re both tucked in. Wei Ying doesn’t bother removing his boots, so Lan Wangji does it for him. 

Before he can rise, Wei Ying reaches out for him, his eyes half-lidded as he’s already being pulled toward sleep, in what Lan Wangji recognizes as a plea for him to stay, to sit on the bed and let him be close as he sleeps. After the stress of the afternoon on his husband, he is happy to oblige, happy Wei Ying would ask, even silently, for his support. 

“I will stay,” he tells him, settling beside him on the bed, letting Wei Ying tuck close and use his thigh as a pillow. 

Not to be left out, A-Yuan clambers over them and settles curled between them against Wei Ying’s stomach, his face pressed into the front of his robe as he falls asleep. Lan Wangji draws the blanket up over both of them.

He has used the table near the bed both as a desk and to play the guqin, so it is no trouble to carefully stack the papers next to the bed and slide the inkstone back so he can pull out Wangji.

Wei Ying lets out a soft sigh, the tension leaving his body, as he starts ‘WuJi.’ The song has been a comfort to his husband, he knows, when he himself failed to be, and he hopes to soon work on a new song, something that will capture the joy he finds in their marriage. The circumstances in which they and the people Wei Ying rescued live are less than ideal, and he wishes he could take him from this place of darkness and the memories of the horror he still cannot speak of, but they are together, and that is much preferable to being alone in the Cloud Recesses. 

Before long, Wei Ying is asleep, and he segues into songs of cleansing and healing. Without a golden core, without Wen Qing’s needles, the latter has little impact—but little isn’t none, and he is still recovering. Every little bit helps, and after the stress of the day, he helps the only way he can, aside from serving as Wei Ying’s pillow. 

He loses himself in the music, coming close to a meditative state as he plays. Time passes like sand through fingers before he hears hesitant steps enter the cave. 

Lan Wangji pauses in his playing, recognizing two sets of footsteps, one the shuffling gait of Wen Ning, and the other softer. He is unsurprised when Jiang Yanli is the second set. 

He is also unsurprised to see her face wet with tears. 

Wen Ning offers her a short bow, then hefts the bathtub from their alcove as he does daily, kindly bringing fresh water and herbs for Wei Ying to use at night. He nods to him in thanks. 

Jiang Yanli returns Wen Ning’s bow, and his esteem of her rises—many failed to give that respect to him in life, and more would likely refuse to now that he is a corpse, spiritual conscious or not. But Wei Ying’s sister recognizes him as he is: family. 

Though the reverberation of the strings has ceased, the motion of stilling them is a comfort to Lan Wangji as he waits for her to speak. She watches her brother sleep for a while. 

“Wen-guniang… She said he’s in pain,” she finally says. 

Lan Wangji nods to confirm. 

“That he’s been in pain since— since the war, and we didn’t…”

More tears spill down her cheeks, and he knows if Wei Ying were awake he would spring to comfort her. 

“He hid it,” he tells her softly. “You could not have known.”

She makes a sound that is almost pained. 

“I raised him. I knew something was wrong, and I didn’t—“

Jiang Yanli presses her fist against her mouth. 

“I led him to believe I disdained him and wished for him to be punished,” Lan Wangji says.

His failure to communicate had led to the strain of their relationship, to the point where Wei Ying had questioned whether he was still his zhiji, and he will forever regret letting him walk away into the darkness and rain even after that. He empathizes with her completely.

She is silent for a while before she nods.

“Wen-guniang has an idea,” she says. “She said Zewu-Jun pointed out that there is a life debt among our generation. The six of us, A-Xuan, and Nie Huaisang. An auspicious eight. Swearing brotherhood… It could protect A-Xian, and the people here.”

Xiongzhang had hinted at it, and Lan Wangji is glad Wen Qing is furthering the possibility.

“It would tie together the four sects, and the remnants of the Dafan Wen,” he adds, thinking aloud. 

“A-Cheng pointed out that the lotus blossom has eight petals,” she says, smiling wistfully. “He and A-Xian used to talk about being the Twin Prides of Yunmeng. It seems almost like a sign.”

Lan Wangji is struck silent at the idea; the eight auspicious signs are almost sacred, and the imagery would be iconic. The imagery was prevalent at temples—the eternal wheel of life, the endless knot, the conch, the parasol, the lotus… 

The noble eightfold path, an expansion of the threefold way.

Almost implying an expansion of the Venerated Triad, and associating Wei Ying with the noble path regardless of his cultivation.

“Apt,” he says when he finally finds his voice.

“I’ll talk to A-Xuan,” she says, her voice distant. “I know he and A-Xian didn’t get off on the right foot, but he knows I love my didi.”

“Xiongzhang is bringing Chifeng-Zun and Nie Huaisang to see the settlement after your wedding,” Lan Wangji tells her. “I am certain Wen Qing will broach the topic of a sworn brotherhood with them then.”

Jiang Yanli sways slightly, and he panics for a moment; if he needs to move to catch her, it will jostle and wake Wei Ying, and he needs the rest. But she steadies herself, and he is able to gesture to a chair instead, and she takes a seat.

“Hanguang-Jun, since you are my brother’s husband, I wondered if I might call you A-Zhan.”

The request to use his birth name surprises him—xiongzhang had only requested to call Wei Ying by his courtesy name—but she seems earnest about wanting to welcome him to the family. 

“Of course. May I call you… A-Li?”

A smile blossoms across her face, and she nods, looking pleased. 

Then Wei Ying murmurs in his sleep and their attention snaps to him. Lan Wangji strokes his hair gently, letting his fingers brush his scalp in a way he knows soothes him. He settles almost instantly, but he doesn’t stop his ministrations. 

Jiang Yanli, when he next looks up, is watching with a bittersweet look on her face. 

“I used to do that for him,” she says softly, “when he had nightmares. Until he started hiding them.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t know what to say, so only nods. He understands her sense of helplessness, knowing Wei Ying is adept at hiding his pain, would still be hiding it if not for having pulled his wrist away a second too late. 

“I wish he was coming to my wedding,” she confesses, her voice breaking. “He belongs there. But they’d try to kill him.”

He cannot disagree with either statement. Wei Ying should be there, as one of her last remaining family members, even if he did not share her blood, but it would never be permitted. Not now. Not until the plan xiongzhang implied to Wen Qing is put into motion.

But by then she will be married, the wedding over, and Wei Ying will not have been permitted to attend.

“You have done what you can to include him,” he tells her, hoping to soothe her. “He did not expect this much.”

It seems to have the opposite effect, tears lining her cheeks again.

“He never expects anything of us,” she whispers. “Mother made him feel undeserving, like he should feel grateful for any scrap. I try not to hate her for it, but…”

Lan Wangji can understand how she feels, has seen the marks from Zidian on Wei Ying, still healing when he gave his core to his brother, something he has probably hidden from his sister even through everything. And he knows Wei Ying feels he deserves those marks, believing the fall of Lotus Pier to be of his doing. The emotional damage goes far deeper. 

“We can only assure him he deserves more,” he says after a moment. “And be sure to give it to him.”

He has been trying to do so, but it never feels like enough to make up for abandoning him at Qiongqi Path, for failing to join him on the righteous path, even if it is the single-plank one, for making his zhiji believe he reviled him. He understands how Jiang Yanli feels—though perhaps she feels it more deeply, or at least differently, as the person who basically raised him. 

Footsteps approach from the cave entrance, Wen Ning with the tub filled with fresh water, something he has insisted upon doing since it was purchased. At some point during each day, he cleans and fills it, even preparing a fresh sachet of herbs to help Wei Ying recover. Truthfully, even with Lan Wangji’s arm strength he doubts he could lift it as easily as the fierce corpse is able, and he is grateful for his thoughtfulness. 

“Than—thank you for waiting, Jiang-guniang,” he says after setting it down. “Popo is waiting to help us in the k-kitchen with preparing dinner.”

Jiang Yanli favors him with a smile. 

“Thank you, Wen-gongzi.”

“Ah, you c-can just call me Wen Ning,” he says, looking flustered as he often does when people offer respect to him. 

“Then you must call me Jiang Yanli.”

Wen Ning looks like he might protest, but she turns to Lan Wangji before he can, dipping into a proper and respectful bow. 

“A-Zhan, thank you for taking care of A-Xian. It is…”

Her voice cracks, emotions nearly overcoming her again. It takes her a moment to recover. 

“It is a relief to know someone else is here for him when I cannot be. I entrust him to your care.”

The formality, Lan Wangji realizes, is her approval of their union. Warmth spreads through him at her acceptance. 

“However,” she says, a slight smile on her face that is also somehow fierce. “I think you will agree with me that A-Xian deserves a real wedding, at Lotus Pier, as soon as it is possible.”

The image of Wei Ying sitting on a bed in Nightless City in his red underrobes, the joy of his waking mixing with the wish they were wedding robes… that Jiang Yanli wants to ensure they receive that, that their union can be celebrated, if belatedly, in the way Wei Ying deserves to be honored. 

“Yes,” he says softly. “I agree.”

She nods, clearly pleased.

“It will happen, A-Zhan; I’ll make sure of it.”

Lan Wangji has absolutely no doubt she will. 

She leaves with Wen Ning, and he remembers her intention to cool the soup Wei Ying so loves for the settlement. It will be a welcome meal for them all.

Though he could resume playing, Lan Wangji opts to sink into a meditative state instead, waiting. He doesn’t need to wait long, as footsteps that are almost stomps approach and enter the cave.

He is ready to stare at Jiang Wanyin disapprovingly, but the steps hesitate, becoming uncertain, on the way to the alcove. 

“He’s still resting,” Lan Wangji says before he can speak. 

Jiang Wanyin’s face does something strange, going soft for a moment as he gazes at his brother and nephew, the top of A-Yuan’s head just visible poking out from beneath the blanket. Then his expression shutters.

“He needs the rest, then?” he asks.

“Mn. He is recovering. He also was giving most of his food to A-Yuan before I arrived. He is finally eating properly.”

The muscles in the Jiang sect leader’s jaw clench, working as though he’s stopping himself from saying something—or, more likely, yelling.

“He always gives too much,” Jiang Wanyin says finally. 

Lan Wangji nods; he agrees with that assessment. 

“I want to bring him back to Lotus Pier.”

The announcement is unexpected, and he reconsiders his assessment of the man. 

“He will not leave these people.”

“I know that. The Wens too, of course.”

“They do not wish to be known as Wens,” Lan Wangji tells him, and watches Wei Ying sleep for a moment to be certain he won’t hear before continuing. “I believe they hope to take on Wei as a family name. They have not broached the subject with Wei Ying yet.”

Jiang Wanyin sits heavily in the chair his sister vacated, sighing. 

“He’ll do that thing. Where he belittles himself,” he says, his voice rough. “It’s like he believes all the awful things a-niang said about him.”

Because he does believe them, Lan Wangji is well aware. His anger at a dead woman is unbecoming, but it will likely never fade. She trained Wei Ying to see himself as worthless, as a charity case, when he was one of the best cultivators of their generation. Even without his core, he was still inventing tools to help the cultivation world that slanders and wishes him dead. 

“Not that I’m much better. He’s my brother and I fucking abandoned him,” Jiang Wanyin mutters. “And I accused him of abandoning me, on top of it. When—when he left a big piece of himself with me to protect me.”

It occurs to Lan Wangji that perhaps both Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli suffered their own childhood traumas associated with bad parenting, that this is perhaps just a variation of that which has led Wei Ying down his path of self-destruction through giving too much, through not valuing himself. His own troubled upbringing led him to value his clan and the Lan rules over his zhiji, to believe his identity must be tied up in being a perceived paragon of Lan virtue above all else. Theirs led to Wei Ying’s isolation as well. 

“You had no way of knowing,” he says. “Now that you know, you are trying to help him.”

What they do now does not absolve them of their wrongs, but it is a start. 

Jiang Wanyin’s jaw clenches again, then releases when he sighs. 

“I can’t undo the shitty stuff I said to him. You’ll come to Lotus Pier with him, right?”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji says, surprised that’s in question. “He’s my husband.”

He receives a nod in response.

“He’ll need bigger quarters, then, for you and A-Yuan. I could give him a-niang’s old quarters, but I don’t know if he’d want to live where she did. He deserves them as my head disciple, so maybe if I remodel them…”

Jiang Wanyin seems to be thinking out loud. 

“Wei Ying is still your head disciple?” he asks, having not realized. 

“Yeah,” Jiang Wanyin says, then grimaces. “I never took him off the register. Kicking him out was for show, because he insisted. He never stopped being head disciple, but he probably doesn’t realize that.”

He likely doesn’t, knowing Wei Ying. Wei Ying, who still believes himself responsible for the fall of Lotus Pier, for the deaths that were a part of it. Even being head disciple, there will be much he cannot do, lacking a golden core. 

“I can help with his duties,” Lan Wangji offers impulsively. 

Jiang Wanyin blinks at him, startled, then smiles in a way that makes him look painfully young.

“Appreciated. He’ll… Well, he’ll need help with some of it. At least until Wen Qing figures out a way to help him.”

Lan Wangji realizes the Jiang sect leader is still hoping there’s a solution, that Wei Ying will again achieve the impossible. 

“She’s going to make a list of things she’ll need to get started,” Jiang Wanyin continues. “And I’ll work to get ahold of them.”

A-Yuan stirs before Lan Wangji can reply. 

“Loud,” he murmurs. “A-Die sleeping, shhhh.”

He wriggles his way out from under the blanket, somehow managing not to disturb Wei Ying as he does, then crawls off the bed.

“Jiang-shushu loud.” 

His voice is pitched in an almost theatrical whisper, and Jiang Wanyin snorts in amusement. 

“Okay,” he whispers back, also theatrical. “Let’s leave your a-die to sleep and go find guma, then.”

A-Yuan glances back at Wei Ying, then at Lan Wangji, who nods encouragingly. Then he turns back to Jiang Wanyin and holds his arms up expectantly. 

Jiang Wanyin stands, pulling A-Yuan into his arms as he does. 

“I’ll watch the kid. It looks like everyone else is busy right now.”

Lan Wangji simply nods in response. A-Yuan chatters softly to his uncle as they make their way out of the cave, leaving him alone with Wei Ying.

Jiang Wanyin’s absence is a relief. He finds it difficult still not to resent him for his choice to abandon Wei Ying, for the fact that Wei Ying’s core now rests within him, even for his desperate hope that his brother will somehow heal enough to form a new one. In far too many ways, it’s not enough, just as anything Lan Wangji does now cannot make up for his own failures.

He reminds him of Wei Ying’s mortality, as unfair as that may be.

Resentment will help nothing, may even be exacerbated now by the Burial Mounds, so Lan Wangji works to focus instead on the sensation of Wei Ying’s hair against his fingers, the weight of his head on his thigh, his soft breaths, and he is eventually able to fall into a sort of meditation until Wen Qing comes to fetch them.

“Jiang-zongzhu set up the tablets for the adoption rites, so we can start with those,” she tells Wei Ying once he’s awake.

Wei Ying stares at her blearily for a moment.

“Adopting A-Yuan,” Lan Wangji prompts gently. 

Wen Qing gives him a disapproving look. 

“He’s very excited, and your siblings can serve as witnesses.”

“Right. Sorry. Been a long day,” Wei Ying murmurs, then glances at Lan Wangji. “It’s still today, right?”

Lan Wangji brushes a lock of hair back from his face. 

“Mm. You slept only a few hours.”

Wei Ying melts into his touch, and he leans forward to brush his lips against his forehead. Wen Qing clears her throat and drops a bundle on the bed.

“Your sister also made Jiang-zongzhu go back into town and buy nice clothing for you and A-Yuan for the adoption rites.”

She indicates the bundle.

“So hurry up and get changed. She cooked up a feast, and everyone’s hungry. I think she’s determined to give you a proper wedding banquet.”

Wen Qing, ever brusque, turns on her heel and leaves before either of them can respond.

Wei Ying opens the bundle on the bed, blinking at the high quality clothing. The fabric, at a glance, looks black, but has threadwork in a deep blue and purple. It sends a message from Jiang Wanyin: Wei Ying is of the Jiang sect still. A red underrobe, new zhong yi, a red silk hair ribbon embroidered with little pink lotuses, and even new boots complete the package.

“Aiya, Jiang Cheng… How can I wear these?”

“You were not removed from the sect registry. He insists you are still his head disciple. 

“Oh,” Wei Ying breathes, taking a heavy seat on the bed, clearly overwhelmed. 

Lan Wangji wonders if he should tell Wei Ying the rest—that Jiang Wanyin intends to bring everyone at Burial Mounds to Lotus Pier permanently when it is feasible. But he will leave that to the Jiang sect leader. 

Instead he opens his qiankun pouch and pulls out the light blue robes he arrived wearing, which he hasn’t worn in days. If dinner is in part for them, he should dress appropriately, as well.

Changing takes little time, though Lan Wangji has Wei Ying sit for his hair to be combed and put back in its crown, as it came loose as he slept. 

The entire settlement is waiting for them in the hall when they enter, and though only Wen Qing has seen an official adoption rite, she demurs from describing it. 

“It was Wen Zhuliu’s, so it feels like bad luck to copy it,” she says when pressed. 

None of them argue. 

“We should have seen an adoption rite,” Jiang Wanyin mutters. 

Wei Ying seems not to have heard, focused on A-Yuan. He takes the child’s hand and leads him to the space where someone has set up an altar with his parents’ tablets, complete with sticks of incense and food offerings: three cups holding tea, water, and Jifu’s fruit wine, plates with small stacks of oranges and sweets. A fire burns in a small brazier in front of the altar, a stack of joss paper set nearby. 

For a moment, Wei Ying is completely silent, looking at the altar as though struck. 

Jiang Yanli breaks the silence. 

“You’ve never been able to venerate them,” she murmurs.

Lan Wangji understands suddenly: there was no place set for Wei Ying’s parents’ tablets at Lotus Pier, and so his husband has never been able to properly pay them respects—cruel, given their bodies were never found to begin with. 

“Thank you, shijie.”

His voice is heavy with emotion, and he kneels and gestures to A-Yuan to do the same. 

Wei Ying keeps it simple, first apologizing for being unable to do his filial duty for them, kowtowing before them. A-Yuan copies him dutifully, and this receives smiles from the others. 

“A-Die, a-niang, I want to introduce my son to you, Wei Yuan. He may not share my blood, but he is your sunzi. I ask you to help me protect and guide him, if you are able. This one will do a better job honoring you in the future.”

He murmurs something to A-Yuan, who bows as best he can.

“Wei Yuan greets yeye and nainai. A-Yuan will burn joss and incense and clean your altar. A-Yuan promises to be filial.”

They light the incense using the brazier, then burn joss together, letting the paper fall into the flame piece by piece.

Lan Wangji longs to join them, to thank Wei Ying’s parents for bringing him into the world, and Wei Ying turns to him as though hearing those thoughts. When his husband gestures, he steps forward to take his place kneeling beside him. 

“A-Die, a-niang, I also want to introduce you to my husband,” Wei Ying says, blushing as though they’ve not been wed over a week. “We completed our bows, but not before your tablets.”

They bow together, three times again.

“Fuqin, muqin, thank you for Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, bowing one last time alone. “I promise to honor him, and to protect him and Wei Yuan.”

They burn the remaining joss together, as a family, before standing. 

Jiang Yanli rushes forward to hug Wei Ying, who pulls Lan Wangji and A-Yuan into it. There’s a warmth to it that he isn’t used to, his own family reserved, and it surprises him as much as xiongzhang’s hug did. 

“Ah, I have a new didi and an adorable zizhi!” she says happily, then pulls at their arms as she releases them from the embrace. “We prepared a nice meal to celebrate, come!”

The tables are covered in dishes, the serving bowls and platters clearly heated by talismans to keep the food at an ideal temperature. 

“The guests of honor fill their plates first,” popo says insistently, clicking her tongue when Wei Ying gestures for her to go ahead. “A-Xian is still too thin!”

Wei Ying startles at the affectionate address and she smiles and pats his arm. 

Lan Wangji steps forward first, recognizing the futility of refusing popo’s demand. There is a bowl with chili sauce on the table, likely Wei Ying’s favorite kind. The dishes range from the familiar—the lotus root and pork rib soup he was introduced to earlier in a huge tureen, braised pork belly with mushrooms and bok choy, tea eggs, fried radish cakes, baozi, cucumber salad, sautéed dock root and millet with Sichuan peppercorns that would make his mouth numb—to the unfamiliar. He recognizes noodles cooked with what looks like water spinach and shaved carrot, mixed with, upon closer look, crisp-fried silkworm pupae. 

He doesn’t realize Wei Ying is beside him until he makes an intrigued noise. 

“Where did we get those? Shijie, did you bring them?”

“A-Ning found a copse of mulberry a few nights ago,” Wen Qing tells them. “He brought the silkworm cocoons to the aunties to unwind so we can sell the silk. He harvested the berries, too.”

“We—we cooked them with d-dessert,” Wen Ning adds. 

Though he is aware that silkworm pupae are commonly sold at market when silk is harvested, Lan Wangji has never had occasion to try them. Despite the fact that silk is harvested by the GusuLan weavers and used in robes for the clan, the production is kept out of the Cloud Recesses because the cocoons are boiled to extract the intact silk, killing the pupae in the process, and killing any creature, even an insect, is prohibited within the bounds of the Cloud Recesses. Presumably the pupae are sold in Caiyi, but meat is not a staple in his home. 

But he was raised not to be a picky eater, and insects are a viable source of protein, something sorely needed by the people living here. Wei Ying seems content to serve himself and A-Yuan a large helping, so Lan Wangji does the same, placing a wide variety of dishes on his own plate to sample, but avoiding the chili sauce for the sake of his palate. 

“I put in fewer peppercorns than I usually do,” Jiang Yanli murmurs to him. “I know you like milder dishes.”

He nods his thanks, and lets her press a bowl of soup into his free hand. 

She follows him with two more to place before Wei Ying and A-Yuan, then pinches her brother’s cheek as though he’s a child. 

“Eat the whole plate, Xianxian, and then you’ll get dessert.”

He is quietly pleased when Wei Ying plays along with a bright smile. 

“But what if Xianxian wants more?”

She leans forward and kisses his brow like a mother might. 

“Xianxian can have as much as he wants. Popo and Wen Ning helped me cook plenty. And dessert is mulberry millet pudding sweetened with honey, so I know you’ll like it.”

Then she turns to A-Yuan and favors him with the same treatment. 

“You too. Eat plenty so you can grow big and strong.”

“A-Die plants me with the radishes so I will!” A-Yuan says proudly, and those within earshot laugh. 

Jiang Yanli’s laughter is not unlike the gentle ringing of the bells the Jiang sect wears at their belts. She turns to him, patting his shoulder affectionately. 

“A-Zhan as well. Your strength is important. More than three bowls if you want.”

The reference to the rules of the Cloud Recesses is nostalgic, but not in a painful way. It is more a reminder that he will now uphold the rules as he sees fit, now that his home is Wei Ying. 

They are surrounded by familiar chatter, the smell of food of a more quality fare than any at the Burial Mounds have had in some time, and the warmth of family. 

He hopes this can be the sort of happiness that awaits them for some time.

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

In my culture, generally we don’t eat insects/bugs and often find it intrinsically disgusting. I’ve never eaten insects/bugs. However, my biases are not applicable to the culture I am writing into. My understanding from friends is that there are many insects and arachnids commonly eaten in China. A close friend of mine has eaten ant eggs, grasshoppers, and other insects. Another has mentioned tacos that involve insects as a common ingredient in Mexico. In China, markets often have fried scorpions on a stick, grasshoppers, and many other insects as street food for purchase.

Given life on the Burial Mounds involves a lot of scraping by, I’d imagine some of their meals involve insects, which culturally wouldn’t be unusual. Likely if there were insects in the Burial Mounds, eating them helped Wei Wuxian survive them. They’d be an important source of protein.

While silkworm pupae are often fried in peanut oil and eaten on skewers or like nuts, from my research, my friend believed the dish I concocted in here was believable. (I also researched what the taste and texture is, but decided not to include it.) She also said the dessert of mulberry millet pudding is something eaten in southern China, which I didn’t know—I just knew it sounded like it’d be delicious.

In terms of the millet, meta discussions of MDZS have involved the fact that millet was likely more common (and less expensive) than rice at rough time of the setting, so I included that.

My friend was kind enough to read for cultural sensitivity regarding the auspicious eight, adoption rites, and ancestor veneration, so I hope they read well. This is a chapter I was particularly worried about because of the cultural aspects, and I hope it reads well.

[rhysand-vs-fenrys]

Could you do a thing about who The Untamed characters are? Your weekly posts and such are good, but I was wondering what their context is?

-Sure!! I’ll put it under a “Keep Reading” so it doesn’t flood anyone’s dash :)

**I usually reblog Untamed asks to my Untamed fandom page as well, so this note is for followers of Wuxian-vs-Wangji:: I’m avoiding spoilers in these descriptions and trying to simplify things into a format non-viewers can follow, so please do not comment with spoilers.

I also limited the list of characters to those in 10+ episodes, which left some fan favorites off the list.

Main & Major Characters Throughout the Story::

Wei Wuxian // Wei Ying (Informal Name) // Yiling Patriarch (The Sage of the Burial Mounds)

Think... Battlemage Necromancer.

Uses the dark flute Chenqing to draw out and command the hate and resentful energy of the dead, weaponizing it against his enemies.

Adopted by the Yunmeng-Jiang Clan Leader after his mother (a rogue cultivator) and father (a beloved Jiang servant) were killed in a monster hunt.

Considered by Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng to be no different from a blood sibling.

Killed on the Cliffs of Heavenly Nightless by his brother Jiang Cheng while committing suicide in the first 5 minutes of the show; Resurrected via a rare and dangerous spell by madman Mo Xuanyu 16 years later.

In the Present Arc, Wei Wuxian dons a mask so others will not recognize him (laughably the mask fools absolutely no one but he Commits to the Look) and pretends to be the insane outcast Mo Xuanyu.

Lan Wangji // Lan Zhan (Informal Name) //  Hanguang-Jun (The Light-Bearing Lord)

As younger brother to the so-far childless Clan Leader of the Gusu-Lan, he is the Clan Heir and commands a position of high power and respect worldwide.

As he and his older brother are seen as the pride and joy of the Lan Clan, they are referred to worldwide as “The Twin Jades of Lan”.

Considered a paragon of righteousness and virtue.

Joyless, friendless, and isolated from others at the start of the story, but develops first a begrudging respect for- then love for- Wei Wuxian.

For 16 years he refuses to accept that Wei Wuxian is dead since no body was recovered. Lan Wangji travels the world and throws himself headfirst at chaos both to protect the common people and in hopes that Wei Wuxian will appear.

In the present-arc, acts as a teacher and guide to the Junior Disciples of the Gusu-Lan.

Particularly skilled in a Lan musical technique called “Inquiry”, in which a guqin (zither) player mixes spiritual energy into a song and plays notes as a coded language to commune with the souls of the dead and ask them questions. Lan Wangji also develops a proficiency for an extremely rare and difficult form of guqin magic where he can literally attack people with the sound and power of the instrument.

Wei Wuxian’s own use of music to control others seems to have been heavily inspired by the Lan magics, though theirs are mainly in the vein of healing and suppressing darkness.

Jiang Wanyin // Jiang Cheng (Informal Name) // Yunmeng-Jiang Clan Leader // Sandu-Shengshou (Master of Three Poisons)

Most commonly referred to only by the informal name “Jiang Cheng”

Beloved brother- and eventually bitter enemy of- Wei Wuxian.

One of those fancy multi-purpose tools in human form (the Tooliest of Tools)

Thanks to his parents, has a massive inferiority complex that usually leads to violent outbursts against his adopted brother.

Like Lan Wangji, cannot accept that Wei Wuxian is dead as only charred bones were found where he fell. Spends 16 years hunting down any whisper of Wei Wuxian or demonic cultivation and executing any demonic cultivators he finds. 

Feels both extreme hatred and guilt towards Wei Wuxian.

Wears a purple snake bracelet-and-ring combo on one hand, the spiritual tool Zidian given to him by his mother. Zidian takes the form of a whip that strikes not only the flesh, but the soul of a person. It can instantly destroy any spirit possessing a body.

Wen Qionglin // Wen Ning (Informal Name) // The Ghost General

Almost exclusively referred to by the informal name Wen Ning.

Considered to be a weapon- or pet- of Wei Wuxian’s.

A young cultivator who Wei Wuxian resurrected from the dead and who acted as his subordinate during the rise of the Yiling Patriarch.

Fiercely loyal to Wei Wuxian in both life and death.

Black veins and eyes mark him as one of the ultra-rare Living Dead. Not a mindless zombie slave (Ghost-Puppet), but a fully conscious reanimated human capable of independent thought and action.

In battle, Wei Wuxian will use his flute Chenqing to focus resentment and hatred through Wen Ning and give him enhanced abilities, control his actions, or calm him.

Other Figures: Both Past and Present Arcs

Lan Xichen // Lan Huan (Informal Name) //  Zewu-Jun (The Grand Overgrowth Lord)

Clan Leader of the Gusu-Lan and elder brother of Lan Wangji.

Though he is Clan Leader, often deferrs to or is advised by his Uncle Lan Qiren (who HATES Wei Wuxian).

As he and his younger brother are seen as the pride and joy of the Lan Clan, they are referred to worldwide as “The Twin Jades of Lan”.

The most respected Clan Leader in the world for his kind and fair nature. Often acts as an arbitrator in disputes.

Uses a white jade flute to calm and settle angry or resentful energy around him. Wei Wuxian is his dark reflection.

Willing to give anyone a chance due to his pacifist nature. Does not feel hatred towards Wei Wuxian but rather tries to understand what drove him towards darkness and help guide him back.

Ships Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji relentlessly and often finds ways to push them together early on.

Nie Huaisang (No formal/informal name) // Nie Clan Heir // Nie Clan Leader

Half-brother of the Nie Clan Leader Nie Mingjue, later becomes Clan Leader in his place.

Despite being first heir to- then leader of- a Clan that prides itself on brute strength, Nie Huaisang is a kind and gentle soul who prefers the arts and artistic pursuits.

Religiously carries around a fan and never holds a sword.

Sweetheart, goober, and close friend of Wei Wuxian. Even in Wei Wuxian’s fall from grace, never bears him any ill will as Wei Wuxian never does anything to harm him. 

The only major (still living) character not at the Battle of Nightless where Wei Wuxian dies (though his brother Nie Mingjue was present).

Informally titled “The Head Shaker” as Clan Leader due to his indecisive nature. Whenever asked questions he frequently shakes his head and says “I don’t know”.

Considered a weak fool by many, but he is frequently advised (and coddled) by Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao.

Jin Guangyao // Meng Yao (Informal Name) // Lianfang-Zun (Hidden-Fragrance Master)

Originally a servant of the Nie family, taken in by Nie Mingjue.

Bastard son of the Jin Clan Leader Guangshan and a prostitute, is consistently demeaned and debased for his parentage. The only ones who show him respect and kindness are Nie Mingjue, Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen.

Half brother of Jin Zixuan and Mo Xuanyu (the madman who resurrects Wei Wuxian)

While a servant of the Nie Clan, Guangyao frequently acts as a buffer between ultra-masculine Nie Mingjue and his softer half-brother Nie Huaisang.

Nie Huaisang may be thought a dumbass by most, but he’s *Guangyao’s* dumbass, and thus Guangyao consistently shows care towards Nie Huaisang.

Other High-Profile Characters:: Both Past and Present Arcs (Noted by their names)

**Some will say I’ve left names off this list, but to avoid getting into EVERYTHING  everyone does, I’m limiting this to characters in 10+ episodes. This leaves some fandom favorites off the list but this is only meant to be a basic introductory guide. 

Sorry to fans of Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan, A-Qing, and Wen Yuan.

(Past Arc) Wen Qing (women do not have formal vs informal names or titles)

Wen Ning’s beloved elder sister.

Distant cousin to the evil Wen Ruohan and Wen Chao, and thus holds a prominent position within the Wen Clan. In the novels I believe she is said to be the 4th most powerful person in the entire Wen Clan (Behind Wen Ruohan and his two sons).

Considered to be the greatest physician ever produced by the Dafan-Wen, a clan of healers subjugated by the evil Wen Clan.

Her loyalties lie exclusively with her little brother Wen Ning, and she will do anything to keep him safe and protected. On her own though, she does tend towards the side of good and acts against her Clan when she is able to do so without putting Wen Ning at risk.

(Past Arc) Jiang Yanli (women do not have formal vs informal names or titles)

Beloved elder sister of both Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian.

Eldest daughter of Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu.

Eventual wife of Jin Clan Heir Jin Zixuan and mother of Jin Clan Heir Jin Ling.

Engaged to Jin Zixuan since infancy, though he is initially dismissive of and even cold towards her.

The Peacekeeper of her family, Jiang Yanli protects Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng from her emotionally (and sometimes physically) abusive mother.

Acts as a mediator of disputes between her two younger brothers. Jiang Yanli is very much the glue that binds the family together.

(Past Arc) Jin Zixuan (No other name given) // Jin Clan Heir

Only *acknowledged* child of Jin Clan Leader Jin Guangshan, though he is the half-brother to a large number of bastard siblings.

These siblings include Nie servant Jin Guangyao/Meng Yao and Mo Xuanyu (the madman who resurrects Wei Wuxian)

Eventual husband of Jiang Yanli and father of Jin Clan Heir Jin Ling.

Originally a haughty and arrogant young lord, he is dismissive of his lifelong fiancee Jiang Yanli and frequently disparages her (leading to violent fights with her brothers).

Is very much disliked by both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng (for his treatment of Yanli).

A semi-professional dumbass, maturity comes to him slower than most.

(Present Arc) Jin Rulan // Jin Ling (Informal name) // Jin Clan Heir

One of the so-called “Junior Squad”, a handful of Junior Disciples from different Clans who band together to fight the bad guys (Ancient Fantasy China Power Rangers).

The only child of Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan.

In episode 2 it is revealed that Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan died tragically just after his birth.

Largely raised by his uncle Jiang Cheng with some input from uncle Jin Guangyao. As uncle Jiang Cheng has the emotional stability of a spoon, Jin Ling tends to be rash, arrogant, and rude. He is kept isolated from other youths of his age and thus has no friends.

Accompanied everywhere by his dog Fairy, a spiritual beast (more powerful than a normal dog).

Also a nephew of Wei Wuxian, though Jin Ling was a newborn when Wei Wuxian died and thus has no relationship with him.

(Present Arc) Lan Sizhui // Lan Yuan (Informal name)

One of the so-called “Junior Squad”, a handful of Junior Disciples from different Clans who band together to fight the bad guys (Ancient Fantasy China Power Rangers).

As Lan Wangji’s chief student, Lan Sizhui is heavily favored by the normally cold and detached Wangji. He is therefore the de-facto leader of the Lan Junior Disciples.

Sizhui is warm, kind, and caring. He never speaks ill of others and even tries to be kind to Jin Ling while the other junior disciples (including Lan ones) generally scorn the other boy.

Regardless of if he is posing as Mo Xuanyu or after he is “outed” as Wei Wuxian, Lan Sizhui is always very respectful and kind towards Wei Wuxian. He considers him a wise senior and feels at ease when Wei Wuxian is nearby.

(Present Arc) Lan Jingyi (No other name given)

One of the so-called “Junior Squad”, a handful of Junior Disciples from different Clans who band together to fight the bad guys (Ancient Fantasy China Power Rangers).

If Lan Sizhui is the de-facto leader of the Lan Junior Disciples, Jingyi is Sizhui’s second. The two are best friends and are almost never seen out of one another’s company.

Snarky, sarcastic, and big-mouthed, Lan Jingyi is the “Wei Wuxian” of the Junior Squad. He has yet to meet a cultivator he isn’t willing to talk back to, be that “Mo Xuanyu” (Wei Wuxian) or even Jiang Clan Leader Jiang Cheng.

Lan Jingyi is also highly intelligent and is the first to question if “Mo Xuanyu” is truly insane or just someone pretending to be so. He makes other accusations throughout the story that at the time see unfounded but are later proven correct.

Mortal enemy of Jin Ling (if by ‘mortal enemy’ you mean bitchy and reluctant friend)

(Past Arc) Nie Mingjue (No other name given) // Nie Clan Leader // Chifeng-Zun (Scarlet-Blade Lord)

Clan Leader of the Nie Clan in the “Past Arc”.

Elder half-brother of Nie Huaisang.

Nie Mingjue is hard on his half-brother, as the Nie are renown for their warrior skills and Huaisang is more of a lover than a fighter.

Nie Mingjue is close friends with Lan Xichen, and often visits him for guidance. Lan Xichen is his closest friend and confidant throughout the story.

Nie Mingjue is a powerful and ruthless cultivator (against his enemies, he’s no sociopath) and often loses his temper. 

He is closely bonded with his broadsword Baxia, and she often moves on her own if he is particularly enraged.

(Past and Present Arcs) Xue Chengmei // Xue Yang (Informal name)

Most commonly referred to simply as “Xue Yang”- his formal name may not be in the show at all.

A low-level thug taken in by the evil Wen Clan and used as a sort of private hit-man.

Xue Yang is brutal, ruthless, and merciless against anyone he crosses paths with. Holds particular disdain for powerful and righteous clans, as he was maimed by a low-level Clan Leader.

Is missing his pinky finger because of an “accident” he suffered as a child and thus wears a glove on one hand.

Initially Xue Yang is introduced as a “guest disciple” of the Wen Clan, but later he branches out on his own.

(Past Arc) Luo Qingyang // Mian-Mian (nickname)

Though it is not customary for a woman to have courtesy vs informal names, Luo Qingyang is almost exclusively referred to by the nickname “Mian-Mian” throughout the series.

A guest disciple of the Jin Clan and direct subordinate of Jin Zixuan.

Mian-Mian originally is shown to be haughty and fiercely loyal to Jin Zixuan, though she often finds ways to assist Jiang Yanli get closer to him throughout his Dumbass Phase.

Mian-Mian is a tough and outspoken female cultivator, sometimes even standing at odds with her own clan.

(Past Arc) Wen Chao (No other name given)

The vicious, cruel second son of villain Wen Ruohan.

Distant cousin of Wen Qing and Wen Ning. He frequently takes Wen Ning as a sort of hostage to guarantee Wen Qing’s compliance with his demands.

Wen Chao is arrogant and haughty. He considers himself superior to all other disciples because of his clan. 

He is the main antagonist of Wei Wuxian in the “past” arc, and considers it part of his duty to destroy Wei Wuxian and the Jiang Clan for their refusal to bow to his family.

Frequently appears together with his mistress Wang Lingjiao (a wife is mentioned but never shown) tormenting or directly torturing younger cultivators.

[this-haunting-hunger]

fic: don’t take this haunting home

Wei Ying lives with many ghosts. It's usually not a problem. He used to be one himself, after all. However, ghosts have one glaring fault, and it is this: they are, by definition, people who refuse to stay completely dead.

And as far as Wei Ying is concerned, some dead people should stay that way.

Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four

Content: angst, mild violence, ghosts

Pairing: Wangxian

Length: 4400

read on ao3

//

There are crowds of ghosts living around Wei Ying.

Some only come when called, some stay at his command, but most are transients. There and then gone, attracted by the promise of what they could have been and repulsed by what he tells them they are. He knows some of them by name. Others, by the sounds of their screams, the way their blood had splattered, the last bitter words they’d spat or whimpered. Others, worse company still, Wei Ying knows by their laugh or their love, by their hopes and fears, by their dreams and tears. He doesn’t remember most of those who visit, you understand. But when they come haunting, he knows them all the same.

This presents something of a problem, given that he himself is a ghost, albeit of the still-breathing variety. Lan Zhan might have scowled at Wei Ying if he ever described himself as such aloud, but it’s one of those truths that suit silence more than sound, anyways. A knowledge that keeps itself company better than company ever could. No need to bother the Chief Cultivator with such whimsical thoughts.

Even if the Chief Cultivator is one of the leading experts on soothing spirits and corpses and essentially everything not-quite-dead-enough in between.

His fingers tighten around Chenqing, rigid against the silky black wood, and the lilting melody he’s playing falters. Wei Ying makes himself breathe; makes himself smile at the dirty wall of the empty temple he’s currently seated in. The trick works, like so many of his tricks do. He relaxes, loosens his hand, smooths his thumb against the flute instead. An apology to an old friend. Then he keeps playing.

Lan Zhan will be annoyed that Wei Ying went on this night hunt without him, but given what he suspects he’s dealing with, there are worse things than an annoyed Twin Jade. Off the top of his head, a dead one. Or worse than dead. (That was just a casual example. Certainly not something he’s thought about again and again and again and –)

Pausing now, pulling Chenqing slightly away and uncrossing his legs, rearranging his black and red robes, Wei Ying smiles even wider. He’s learned so much since their early years of attending the Gusu Lan Sect’s indoctrination sessions, but truth be told, he’s known how to smother his worries for longer than that. Fidgeting and smirking are excellent, day-exclusive antidotes to anything that could (and might and would and did) keep him up at night.

He lets go of thoughts of Lan Zhan as he gets a tighter grip on his focus. Closes his eyes and, bringing Chenqing back to his lips, resumes the song even as he rids himself of his wards.

The ghosts rush in when he beckons with his music. They press against his ears with their echoes, almost but not quite drowning out the flute. Most, polite by now, only murmur, to each other or themselves. Others, newer or simply more resentful, more inclined to disturb and powerful enough to manage it, are shrieking or wailing, sobbing or swearing. Not in literal words: he can’t commune with them in that way without Empathy or Inquiry. But they can impart sensations, feelings, flashes of memories that whirl across his mind, and he has become better at understanding the dizzying array of impressions the more he’s practiced demonic cultivation. There are many ghosts here, smothering him with the weight of their soul-cemented grief and rage. The sheer level of turbulent emotion – so much emotion – is a muddied current, sweeping around him and threatening to drag him to the depths that these spirits have already reached. That he reached, once before.

Some of them hate him. He can’t blame them. What right does he have to the oxygen flowing through these lungs? Wei Ying has been in this body for several years now, and yet, sometimes, he still feels like an intruder, as if his soul slipped through a crack and never could find the way out. Sometimes, he wonders – fears – that Mo Xuanyu’s invitation was not an invitation, but a cry for help. A trust offered and then betrayed. If only he had known how to refuse. How to stop hearing the summons. How to forget the offer like he had forgotten so much else. If only –

Communing with spirits wasn’t so hard. Taking in another deep breath, keeping the melody steady, Wei Ying gently rejects the accusations being flung at him. Smiles in the face of all the hatred. Not now, he tells the hordes of hungry ghosts. Not yet. I’ll answer for my crimes, for the crimes of everyone, later, but not now.

He is searching for one spirit in particular. One obstinate soul that eludes his reaching power, slips across fingertips and is gone in a flash of heat so intense it feels like melting. This ghost came to his attention only recently, and for all of his knowledge, Wei Ying doesn’t know if that’s because it just chose to reveal itself to him, or if it only found him in the last few weeks. He hopes it’s the latter. If it has been following him for longer, without him being aware of it… well, he’s mostly decent while alone.

(While he’s with Lan Zhan is another story entirely, but no ghosts could penetrate the wards he has placed around their dwelling.)

Refusing to be distracted by that tantalizing thought, he offers, I just want to talk. When there is no response, he says it out loud, around his flute. “I just want to talk. Just a little exchange of information. No tricks, I promise.” Some of the gathered spirits murmur, but no one comes forward. He could command them to find the one he is looking for. To drag it before him. But if it is who he suspects, that could very well be a mistake. He’s familiar enough with those, but not so much that he wants to make more.

Pouting, eyes still closed, Wei Ying lets Chenqing fall limply into his lap, crosses his arms. “Yah, stalker!” he calls. “It’s not fair if you get an eyeful whenever I’m doing anything, and I get nothing in return! Have you no shame? No pride? Are you so ugly you’ve nothing to show me?”

The teasing gets no more of a reply than a flicker of amusement through some of the friendlier spirits surrounding him, and he opens his eyes. Gaze slipping by the congregation of ashy-black, wispy figures and skipping through the ruins of the temple, he brings up a finger to tap thoughtfully against his nose. He’s sure this decrepit building belonged to the Wens, long before the Sunshot Campaign was a seed in the minds of any of the Sects. Conversation with the townsfolk a short distance from here, who had only moved in during the last decade or so, had confirmed it. The temple had been obliterated when the seed bloomed and the fatal fruit was reaped, but it had been beloved by one of their offshoot clans, a place where cultivators and normal folk alike mingled.

With a sudden, stiff movement, Wei Ying springs to his feet. After shaking out his limbs with a few exaggerated moans and limbering himself with even more exaggerated stretching, he begins to wander through the building, followed by a billowing escort of barely-perceptible spirits. It is not a large temple, but he thinks it was once well built and well cared for. There are shattered pieces of frescoes and statues throughout, many painted in long-faded colours, but the fragments he can make out suggest pride of craftsmanship and ownership. Now, dust covers everything, and anything of value has been snatched by greedy fingers. It may as well be a graveyard.

“Ah, it’s such a shame,” Wei Ying comments as he comes to the main hall, just as demolished as the rest. Ghosts are more raucous company than some (and one in particular, with a pretty headband and prettier lips that are altogether too good at pressing together), and many of those here are lonely; they are eager to be heard, in whatever form that takes. Though he knows none of them by name, and they don’t know him, they crowd closer, resonating with his pitying declaration and clamoring to tell their stories. Until the spirit he wants appears, Wei Ying is in no hurry, and sometimes listening is enough to ease those lingering on the border to their final rest.

It’s the least he can do.

The loudest are the saddest and angriest. Many are soldiers or cultivators who died by the sword when the forces of the Qinghe Nie, Lanling Jin, and Yunmeng Jiang Sects took this area and annihilated all who resisted. (And some, the ghosts convey frantically, who did not.) Still others, with their houses and fields burned, died of starvation, their souls screaming their hunger even now. None perished in this building, but, a focal point in life, it has become a focal point in death, too, a place for familiarity when resentment trapped hapless souls and caged them from going further.

Sooner rather than later, he is going to have to ask Lan Zhan to come here and play Rest. It should have been done a long time ago – years and years ago – and Wei Ying only hopes the resentment hasn’t grown too powerful for the lapse.

I am sorry for what happened. It was not just, Wei Ying tells them, the words too heavy to give voice to, and most are grateful to receive his compassion. He wishes he could leave it at that. Let them be soothed by sympathy. But there is a sudden scent in the air, one that’s been plaguing him for weeks now, the ozone reek of discharged electricity. It’s so strong he’s almost surprised that there are no clouds in the sky, no lightning bolts hurling into the ground. So, Wei Ying wishes he could leave them all alone, but he is too good at doing hard things to let a simple wish stop him. He continues, idly twirling Chenqing as he strolls across the hall and out a crumbling archway into what might have once been an enclosed garden, long overgrown. “It’s not really their fault that you died, though. The soldiers who came here, I mean.”

The reaction is immediate. It feels like constricting, like water being sucked out of a bay before a tsunami, like thunder in the distance. An oppressive warning. Not quite dangerous – but it could become deadly. He holds up his hands in appeal to the audience only he can see. The villagers would probably start lighting torches if they saw him wandering about and talking to himself, so it’s lucky they stay away from here. “Think about it. Who began the war? Who gave the first insult? Surely you have all heard of the atrocities the Wen Sect committed, long before the others retaliated.”

Some are too far gone to heed him. They buzz angrily, jarred and jarring in their rejection, and their vehement antagonism stabs into his temples, threatening to spin the world off its axis. That’s fine. The trick to dealing with that is a simple one; Wei Ying’s world hasn’t been on its axis for a very long time now.

He brings Chenqing up, plays a few calming notes. It would be better if no one but the one he’s hunting attacked him. Or none of them did, but Wei Ying isn’t quite as much of an optimist as he pretends to be. He’s been trying to draw the spirit into a conversation for weeks now, whenever he catches a hint of lightning on a breeze or the not-his memory of pressure constricts his throat. (Dancing around Lan Zhan’s blank faced suspicion each time the Chief Cultivator catches him talking to thin air has been a hectic mix of fun and stressful.) His attempts at making contact have been in vain. If even presenting himself at this temple didn’t evoke a response, where the spirit should be most comfortable (unless Wei Ying is wrong about who it is, which would be embarrassing), he can only imagine that the entity’s intentions aren’t entirely peaceful. Given who it might be, they may in fact be the exact opposite of entirely peaceful.  

Which is a shame, because he’s actually beginning to enjoy himself here. This outdoor space is quite pretty, blue and purple wildflowers doted throughout the thicker tangles of green, and his music suits the abandoned atmosphere of the area. There are fractured stone columns here and there, broken by overly enthusiastic purgers, holding up nothing now, but he imagines the temple had some kind of pavilion for enjoying the outdoors in the shade. A long gone comfort, but one that could be brought back with a bit of work. This is the sort of place that welcomes visitors but asks no one to extend their stay. His kind of place.

Eventually he finds what is either a worn bench or a toppled statue, half conquered by the overgrowth, and, after dusting it off, he takes a seat, leans back, and props himself up on his elbows.

If he weren’t communing with a bunch of livid spirits, this would almost feel like one of his informal teaching sessions with the juniors. “Yes, it was the Wen Sect who started all of this. The insults, the degradation, the murders, the puppets… who could stand by when such injustice was going on? I’m sure very few of you knew what Wen Ruohan was doing. You’re all decent people, aren’t you?”

That’s a joke, coming from him, but it settles them down a little, makes them less defensive. All well and good, and still no stronger sign of the presence he’s searching for. Well, he has always said that patience was meant to be tested. “Those that did know, though…” Wei Ying looks around, arches an eyebrow in a chiding expression. Only vaguely wonders if he’s pushing things a little too far. “They’re to blame for all of this. They could have stopped Ruohan if they’d chosen. Cowards, sycophants, bootlickers… they’re the reason for all of your deaths. For all of the death. They –”

The man was, in life, an imperturbable individual, but death does things to a person, things more significant than just stopping the heart. Wei Ying doesn’t know what the final trigger is – the place, the accusation, or maybe the spirit just loses its patience with their game of cat-and-mouse – but regardless, one moment he’s having a delightful garden chat.

The next he’s been heaved off the bench and thrown across the enclosed space, to crash into one of the taller columns with a strangled, “Umph!” while heat and an ozone stench invade his senses.

Wei Ying lands – hard – on his hands and knees, the breath fleeing from his lungs as though it’s finally realized it doesn’t belong there. Wheezing, blood a coppery coating at the back of his throat, he clutches his flute a bit too hard and tries not to regret how differently this fight would have gone in a different life. No time for what-ifs – only time for enthusiastically trying not to pass out from the impact his head had made with the pillar. He doesn’t manage to do more than get unsteadily to his feet before he’s slammed into again, the force too fast and distorted to get a good look at the spirit attacking him.

This time he’s not flung as far, and he lands in a bush – a distinct improvement. Sprawled in the plant, several pointy bits jabbing him in the back, Wei Ying yanks his sleeve off a particularly malevolent twig and jerks Chenqing up. He’s aware of the thing rushing forward – of a pulsing, fragmented, confused rage – of a disconcerting emptiness where the other ghosts were just moments before – (of static anxiety, an old companion) – of Chenqing’s smooth warmth under his fingers as he begins to play –

Of time, pretending to come to a sudden, violent halt.

Just an illusion. With the spirit abruptly suspended before him, caught up in the invisible threads of power cast out from his flute, Wei Ying has a disjointed moment where the overwhelming emotions from his attacker bleed through his vision, painting everything in reds and golds. Anger and anger and not-anger, something he can’t understand, something like the tempered steel of Suibian, flexible and resilient, yet so sharp it could slice a careless wielder.

The spirit is vaguely man-shaped, all blurred edges and flaring shadows. He can’t force it to assume a more distinct form; the mere effort of keeping it still is enough to have sweat pouring down Wei Ying’s skin, sticky between his fingers as he performs a tune that has by now become second nature. This spirit isn’t the most powerful he’s ever encountered, but it comes rudely close. It’s not surprising, exactly, but he’s won this battle before. Maybe he got just a little overconfident.

Lan Zhan is going to be really furious with me, Wei Ying thinks cheerfully, all the better to drown any second-thoughts about not bringing the other man. Because, really, bringing his lover into this specific kind of danger just wasn’t an option.  

He won’t be able to suppress his opponent through Chenqing alone. That much becomes obvious as their stalemate draws on and Wei Ying’s mouth and lips begin to dry. He changes his tune, literally. Broadens it, with only a twinge of guilt. The appeal – a command, really – sings through the air, as pointed as any sword, and begins to draw on several of the ghosts that had scattered when the more powerful spirit revealed itself. He only calls to the angriest, the most formidable in their own right; no point in subjecting the souls of peasants to this demonic contest of wills.

They come, but only reluctantly. More reluctantly than he expected. Harnessing dark spirits for violence is rarely difficult, given that they already want to commit harm. Hell, half of the battle is usually keeping them directed and contained, not getting them to fight at all. Yet these ghosts need to be chided by Chenqing’s stern voice, prodded to do as bidden. Is it fear? Wei Ying doubts that. Very few spirits have maintained their hold on life enough to fear losing it even more.

Regardless, they can only drag their feet (metaphorically speaking), not reject his orders entirely. Before too long, he has all of them sparring with the other spirit, colliding with it and ripping off chunks of smoke-like substances that dissipate into the air as though they were never there. The assault is enough to let Wei Ying heave himself off the (very flattened) bush and, in a quick scramble, begin to search his robe for a few specific talismans.

All the while, the passions of the ghosts haven’t abated. Actually, they’re thunderous, almost a physical pressure wreaking havoc against his thoughts, crushing them into the here and now and nothing else. He can’t understand why fury isn’t the most prevalent emotion of this fight. He can’t understand why the aggressive spirit hasn’t torn apart at least a couple of his minions yet – or done worse. No time for speculation. There’s just the music, pulling his power from him with reckless abandon and carrying his will out in waves that distort the air and exhort his servants to greater efforts.  

His pulse is pounding in his throat, an unpleasant counterpoint to the rhythm his fingers are tapping on Chenqing. Fatigue is a grey murkiness that makes each controlled breath a little more rattling than it should have been, makes every thought just a bit too slow, a bit too hazy. Not for the first time, he wishes Mo Xuanyu had spent a little less time on impeccable face makeup and a little more on his cultivation. Or at least cardio.

Of course, Wei Ying could probably have spent a little less time drinking and a little more time training, so he supposes he should graciously let the man off the hook.

Shoving his power against the spirit is like pushing against a mountain or trying to convince Jiang Cheng to change his mind: a lot of gross sweating and no satisfactory payoff. Or at least, it is until, with a jolt of energy that Wei Ying feels as an agonizing shock straight through his muscle and bones, all the way to his core, the fierce spirit does something to one of its opponents. One that’s latched on and refusing to be shaken off. Some kind of implosion ripples across the other ghost, and there is a screeching wail, cut brutally short, and then… nothing. Wei Ying’s servant is just – gone.

He is concentrating too hard to be able to fully see what happened, but still – he knows. Or remembers. Remembers something he never actually saw happen, but remembers all the same. And abruptly the fear is there, a stranger this time, acidic in his mouth, and the shadow of words he never said come unbidden to his tongue, words like please, no and I’ll do anything and stop, stop, stop. There’s no room amidst the horrified realization for anything like contempt, but somewhere in the groping dread is a tingling empathy, a sour sympathy for things long finished and dead.

He hasn’t ever blamed Jiang Cheng for his fear before, but now Wei Ying’s understanding isn’t just nestled patiently in the core he used to own; it’s throbbing in his heart, coursing through his veins, forcing every artery to personally acknowledge the wrenching terror. His jaw is aching, he realizes numbly, but can’t stop clenching his teeth until a strained sob almost cracks them in its attempt to escape. That startles him, yanks him viciously out of a torture he never experienced, and he slams back into himself and awareness of his surroundings so hard that it practically winds him. With a gasp, Wei Ying flings up his arms, a reflexive attempt to protect himself from –

Nothing.

People have called him lucky before. Blessed. With good looks and a sparkling personality, sure, but he’s never been able to look back on his life and concede that luck had much of a place in it after his adolescence. Now, though…

There really isn’t another word to describe it. While he had been distracted (Wen Qing had mentioned something about possible triggers, but that had been in another body, another life, so why the hell had it carried over to–) Chenqing had clattered to the ground, the music grinding to a halt. With the goad gone, the spirits he’d yoked to his will – the ones still left – had faltered, gone from raging to ragtag in the span of seconds. They’re wandering adrift now, though none of them have left. By rights, they should have turned on him. And if not them, then his enemy should have taken the opportunity to finish what it started.

Lucky indeed.

The spirit is still standing in front of Wei Ying, and of it’s own free will it’s taken on a much clearer form. A distinct face, distinct features, an almost distinct wardrobe. Distinct hands, big and partially covered by fingerless gloves, the kind that remind Wei Ying of an age when holding a sword hilt meant cutting through muscle and bone as if they belonged to monsters. The spirit is currently staring at its hands like it expects them to sprout claws.

It – he – slowly curls his fingers, until they’re formed into shaking fists, and then he looks up. Not at Wei Ying. At the other spirits. “I am sorry,” he says, or projects, or offers, and regardless of how he does it, they understand. Wei Ying can feel the waves of sorrow, of grief, of acceptance. The fury is still there, a frigid undercurrent compared to the warmth of this – this –

What is this? It feels like a reunion, like a meeting between friends or family long parted. The way he stares at the other ghosts, the stream of recognition that links them all, the guilt that has his features crumpling as if he just murdered…

Oh. Oh.

It’s not as if Wei Ying has never used the dearly departed against their loved ones. He has. It’s just that he’s never done it accidentally before. Coming here hadn’t been about that, hadn’t even crossed his mind. He’d thought it might draw the spirit out and had forgotten in the process that stone walls and a ceiling don’t make a home. It’s the people who manage that. The people and the soup.

His heart lurches at a rebuke that hasn’t dulled despite how long it’s been. Regret, grief, and guilt are all excellent whetstones, and besides, it hasn’t really been so long for him. Wei Ying feels too sharp, like anything or anyone could be cut by the edge of his shame, and it makes him restive, anxious. He stoops, picks up Chenqing from the ground with silken-soft gentleness, just in case the flute somehow shatters against his jagged margins.

The motion attracts the spirit, but when he looks towards Wei Ying, there’s no spike of rage coming from the restless ghost. The guilt of what he just did has smothered it, and Wei Ying doesn’t think he’ll ever understand the dead man more than he does right in this moment.

He’s not even wary anymore. It’s as if the echo of Jiang Cheng’s fear was too big, too reverberating, its aftershocks clearing his chest of anything too light to resist. Hollowed out, Wei Ying can’t manage to feel much of anything at all. Or maybe that’s just – himself. He’s already been parted with one core. Why should a second threat, against an admittedly shabbier core, be viewed as worse than the first?

Gathering up his black sleeves and linking his hands together, Wei Ying bows to his opponent. Maybe holds it a bit too long, dips a bit too low, making respect into a mockery, but he can’t stop himself. His concern for the safety of Lan Zhan, of the juniors – and especially of Jiang Cheng – has been his sole focus for the last few weeks of investigation into this spirit’s background. However, confronted with a slightly clouded face that suits his slightly clouded recollection, Wei Ying has to acknowledge something that crackles, ugly and vengeful, just below his lips, frozen into a smile.

If he could have chosen to meet anyone from his past life, ascended to the Heavens or buried in Hell, Wen Zhuliu would probably have been close to last on the list.