#i genuinely think he's going to be a good sect leader for the record--there's a good heart buried under that bluster

[thebiscuiteternal]

I have a prompt I'd love to throw your way for the jam:

MDZS/Untamed post-canon SangYao, another character (e.g. WWX or a snooping Junior) discovers that NHS has a little shrine/memorial nook set aside with JGY's hat, a lovingly painted portrait by NHS, and whatever other accoutrements strike your fancy (e.g. maybe a journal NHS writes in every day where he 'speaks' to JGY) that make it obvious the relationship SangYao once had. What they do with that is up to you, I just thought it would be fun (and potentially heartbreaking)

After thinking about it a bit, I've decided that I'm gonna set this in the same timeline as this one, so Jin Ling already knows that things between Nie Huaisang and Jin Guangyao were a lot less simple than everyone would like to believe, but he didn't know they were in a relationship at some point. Mixed canon, as per my usual.

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

~ I suppose I should be angry. Would it be easier for you that way? For me to roar and rage about broken promises the way Da-ge does instead of hiding away in tears?

Well, I can't. Just like I can't say I never saw this coming. As soon as I saw you in the Nightless City, I knew I had been set aside for someone better and more acceptable in numerous ways.

Before I even fell for you, I knew I would never be good enough.

So I can't be angry.

But will you be angry with me if I am too ill to travel the day of the wedding? I promise to send extra gifts in my stead, and to try to send Da-ge in a good mood. ~

---

Jin Ling frowned as he closed up the letter and laid it back among the dozens of other letters and notes and drawings from Nie Huaisang that his shushu had been keeping in an unassuming little box hidden deep within the protected room where all his other most closely guarded secrets were held.

It was dated a solid two years before Nie Mingjue had die- been killed, but even though he didn't remember the wedding itself, he knew from records that Jin Guangyao and Qin Su had married after the murder and Nie Huaisang had attended as sect leader and representative.

Had he already tracked down any of Jin Guangyao's secrets by then?

Jin Ling doubted that. Surely there would have been more mention of him other than the guest list if he'd made a commotion, as Jin Ling had discovered many, many records of indescretions by assorted cultivators and outside nobles and merchants that could have been used as blackmail as he went through the contents of the room.

And some of them had been about Nie Huaisang. Jin Guangshan had found it almost disturbingly amusing to catalogue the apparent downward spiral of his hated rival's little brother.

So if there weren't any from the wedding... no, whatever had been going on then must have been genuine.

Knowing what he knew now from having talked to Nie Huaisang and read everything he'd found in the treasure room, Jin Ling could only feel an aching sort of pity for everyone involved except his yeye.

His shenshen, not having any idea what horrors were lurking behind her happy day.

Qin-furen, knowing what she was unwillingly allowing.

Nie Huaisang, newly brotherless and forced into the role of playing smiling wedding guest as the man he loved married someone else.

He even felt sorry for his shushu. It must have been miserable trapped under the weight of his mistakes and the what-might-have-beens.

Wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand, Jin Ling leaned back against the wall and let out a long sigh.

Unlike the blackmail records -burned- and the demonic cultivation notes -given to his shijiu- and a number of other things he'd already gone through, he wasn't sure what to do with these.

They were far too personal to just be put back on the shelf, and yet-

He considered possibly giving them to Nie Huaisang, but he didn't know if that would be an insult. The other sect leader had been surprisingly kind to him in helping him sort out his grief over several talks and exchanges of letters, and Jin Ling didn't want to wind up pouring salt in an old wound.

But it felt wrong to simply get rid of them, and he couldn't think of any better place for them to go.

---

Though he couldn't go anywhere he pleased with impunity like his shushu once had, Jin Ling had discovered during his visits that he still had a surprising amount of freedom in the Unclean Realms. Whether it was because most of the disciples and staff still looked at him as a kid, or because Nie Huaisang allowed it as a side effect of their personal discussions, he didn't know.

But he wasn't going to complain about it right now.

His original intent had been to leave the box in Nie Huaisang's library or somewhere similar, but then he'd remembered That Room.

The one situated in the same hallway as the sect leader's room and Nie Huaisang's old room, that his shushu had indicated he'd lived in when he'd been part of the sect.

The one Jin Ling had never seen anyone else living in even when he was small, not even the current second in command.

Hoping he wasn't about to get himself in deep trouble for snooping, he tested the door latch and found it opened easily, as if it hadn't gathered any dust in the years since his shushu had left.

Carefully, he peeked inside.

Though most of the furniture was gone, a hefty three piece writing desk and a cabinet remained.

At first, he thought they'd been taken directly from his shushu's office, they were so similar. But as he looked closer, running his fingers over the wood, he found a few differences.

The beast head of Qinghe Nie adorned the drawer and door pulls, for one. The desk was missing the place where he'd accidentally nicked it with a toy sword. The spots where Rusong had tried to chew on the edge while teething weren't there.

This, he realized, must have been his shushu's desk and cabinet when he was still Meng Yao. A welcome gift from his sect leader and young master.

And Jin Guangyao had had it replicated more according to Lanling tastes when he'd moved.

Oh... things really had been complicated between them, hadn't they?

Curiosity overtook him, and he couldn't stop himself from looking in the drawers and cabinets one by one.

A hat that he couldn't bear to see for more than the time it took to open and then quickly shut the drawer. A set of finely made brushes. Some fresh notebooks. A set of beautifully-designed green and gold robes that had likely never been worn.

A painting of his shushu, looking younger and smiling brighter than Jin Ling had ever seen him.

Other bits and pieces he didn't understand the meanings of.

And, finally, a carved wooden box.

Jin Ling found himself relieved by that particular discovery, knowing immediately what had to be inside without even opening it. Taking the box he'd brought with him out of the pouch he'd stored it in, he carefully laid it down next to the one already there.

Then slipped out of the little mausoleum-of-sorts back to his room.

---

Jin Ling looked up from his breakfast to find Nie Huaisang staring at him over the rim of his teacup.

For a moment, he froze, afraid he was about to get laid into for his nighttime sneaking.

But Nie Huaisang merely tilted his head in acknowledgment, then went back to his tea.

And Jin Ling couldn't help but grin before taking his next bite.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

I never stop being suprised at how well adjusted Jin Ling is, given his situation- being orphan and heir to one, potentially two great sects aside, he is incredibly normal given ones who raised him were Jiang '' I express concern by threatening to break your legs and its step up from how I was raised'' and Jin '' I will put up with all of your tantrums because i have 12342 different ways to orchestrate your death on backburner'' Guangyao. Like, how is this kid relatively normal given his 1/2

parental figures were walking mess of decades long traumas who trained him to be as deadly at night hunting as possible and schemer who sweetly smiled while being insulted for everything aand planning numerous atrocities who kept spoiling him with 400 nets and best pet in world? I blame it on Qin Su,.( 2/2)

HERE’S MY THING, Jin Ling is a wreck as a person.  I can think of several “well-adjusted” kids, some of them more shocking than others, but quite frankly Jin Ling is five traumas in a Jin crest, with a sword for a comfort item and a brand new expectation that he get his act together to run a sect.  I love him so much, but the vast majority of his influences have taught him to interact with the world on two axes labeled “Anger” and “Orders,” both of which are normally directed at him.  His only two responses to a crisis are to lash out at the person in charge or to break down into these agonized tears that he feels horrendously ashamed of.  Both of those reactionary schema can be traced pretty directly to the way Jin Guangyao and Jiang Cheng have raised this kid.

Anger: this is Jiang Cheng’s Brand.  It just is.  In fact, I’d put money that Jiang Cheng had a lot of the raising of Jin Ling, because they both handle emotion in exactly the same way--they don’t.  When Jin Ling doesn’t know what’s going on, or feels out of control, or isn’t entirely sure how to process his emotions, he picks a target and gets mean fast, because his uncle is an adult that he trusts to have his act together and that’s how his uncle behaves.  Unfortunately for both of them, it’s actually not that productive to just.  Yell at people and lash out.  It leads to things like brothers who don’t tell you about golden core transfers and potentially powerful allies who don’t trust you.

@ Jiang Cheng, bud, I understand that you have capital-T Trauma and that you’ve withstood years of people applauding you for the murder of the brother who you loved and felt massively betrayed by and kind of didn’t mean to kill but also kind of intended to kill but also kind of chickened out on killing and blamed for everything bad in your life, because that’s what your parents taught you to do.  I understand that.  Please give your nephew one (1) hug.  He would do anything for a hug from you.  I hope the whole Nie Mingjue debacle was informative to you both on this front.

Incidentally!  Jin Ling is especially unstable and prone to rash anger when this phenomenon intersects with feeling that he’s being manipulated or talked down to.  Hm.  Wonder where that could have come from.  Which brings me to...

Tears: Jin Guangyao hasn’t killed Jin Ling yet by the time of the main plot, which means two things.  First, he is sincerely emotionally attached to the kid.  On the upside, Jin Ling got a dog out of the deal.  On the downside, Jin Ling has probably been on the receiving end of a lot of Jin Guangyao’s “protective” instincts, which I think Qin Su can confirm are not necessarily the most fun instincts in the world.  They’re heavily predicated on Jin Guangyao being in control of things, which means that he relies incredibly heavily on emotional manipulation and enforcing the hierarchy he’s working within.  Examples include: Nie Mingjue, Qin Su, Jin Zixun.  Because Jin Guangyao is sect leader for most of Jin Ling’s life, that means that no matter how hard he pushes, his uncle will always have the strength of the hierarchy to back up his manipulation, which means that all the anger in the world is useless, which means that Jin Ling grew up desperately lacking in control.  And Jin Guangyao is doing it for his own good, so Jin Ling can’t be angry, of course, how could he be angry with his uncle for protecting him?  

Second, Jin Guangyao was...never planning to let Jin Ling inherit properly, right?  We’re all on the same page here?  He was anticipating, A, becoming immortal (the whole goal of cultivation) or, B, stepping down gracefully and puppeteering Jin Ling from behind the scenes, or very possibly C, both.  That means that Jin Ling needs to be manipulable, which--listen, you can say a lot of things about Jiang Cheng, but manipulable isn’t really one of them.  That suggests to me that Jin Guangyao probably went with a very basic method of trying to make Jin Ling into the heir he needed: guilt trip, reserve compliments unless certain conditions are met, make gifts and compliments backhanded when possible, reward “weak” behavior while also reprimanding it.  Basically?  If Jin Ling was being reprimanded by Jin Guangyao and started crying, he probably got called out for being weak but the reprimand stopped and any punishment was less intense than it might have been otherwise.  Hey presto, you have a kid who can’t really handle confrontation but doesn’t know how else to deal with a problem, and who understands that crying will get him out of trouble but also associates it with a complete lack of control over the situation.

Not really ideal for a sect leader, right?

Now, this is where it took kind of a turn for Jin Guangyao, because that plan would have been immaculate if not for the fact that Jiang Cheng is as direct a dealer as anyone in the cultivation world.  Yes, he’s angry all the time, can’t handle his own emotions (except by rage and tears! JGY and Madam Yu should get tea and chat about parenting), and hasn’t decided if he’s guilt-stricken or gleeful over the death of his brother.  But.  Jin Ling knows exactly what to expect from him at all times.  Pretty much the only time we see him actually confused is when Jiang Cheng says that, if Jin Ling doesn’t catch something on their night hunt, he can’t come back--and Jiang Cheng is outraged that Jin Ling took him seriously.  (I also kind of think Jin Ling is being a shit about that on purpose.  But that’s me.)

The rest of the time?  Jin Ling is offended that people take Jiang Cheng’s threats toward him seriously.  He’s pretty much completely prepared to throw himself on Jiang Cheng’s mercy when he needs help.  He postures and poses to mimic him, and breaks Wei Wuxian out against Jiang Cheng’s direct orders without fear of reprisal.  That’s not a kid who’s afraid of his uncle, except, of course, that he wants Jiang Cheng to be proud of him, and he knows that crying is a disappointment.

I’m not saying Jiang Cheng is uncle of the year, see above re: PLEASE hug your nephew, but the mere fact that he can be relied upon to react predictably, in Jin Ling’s experience, does a lot to counteract Jin Guangyao’s attempts to control him.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but Jiang Cheng is the product of a toxic childhood doing his best with the tools he has, and Jin Guangyao is the product of a toxic childhood experimenting with a fun kicky new kind of toxicity in the next generation.

And honestly?  I think that Jiang Cheng having gotten some of the weight off his chest about everything, Jin Guangyao’s manipulations being exposed, and having actual friends will do a lot to help Jin Ling get his feet under him.  Not to mention his brand new uncle who is even more forthright than Jiang Cheng and is more than prepared to tell Jin Ling outright when he’s being a spoiled brat without concern for rank, plus also being willing to Give That Boy A Hug And A Sincere Compliment.

I’m not saying that the Jin Ling fic I’m planning to write is going to heavily feature Wei Wuxian going “okay!!!!  You need to learn that positive reinforcement doesn’t always come laced with poison!!!!!”  But I’m not not saying that.

[tanoraqui]

There actually are enough good fics about postcanon tentative reforging of assorted pairs and even the whole of the Gusu Summer School No Brain Cell Trio to satisfy my niche itch, so pls enjoy these stray snippets of a fic I don't have to write:

Nothing would've happened if the cultivation conference wasn't at Cloud Recesses. But it was, Cloud Recesses with its pale stone and gracefully winding walkways and too many memories, including Lan Xichen sitting the whole thing out in seclusion somewhere... If it'd been at the Unclean Realm, Nie Huaisang would've been busy and if it'd been at Carp Tower the memories only would've been manageably bad, and if it was Lotus Pier or one of many smaller sects, it would've been...fine. Just fine.

But it was Cloud Recesses this year, this first conference since Jin Guangyao's downfall, and specifically it was half past ten at night, and Nie Huaisang was wandering the elegant pathways with a mostly full jar of wine in one hand. The previous jar, now entirely empty, had been left back in his room. He was a Nie, so he was only half as drunk as he'd always used to pretend at these things - but at least twice as drunk as he'd ever actually been.

After da-ge's death, of course. Before that, he used to get plenty drunk. Playfully drunk. With friends.

It would be a terrible idea for him to go appear on Lan Xichen's doorstep. Neither of them was ready for that yet.

So he appeared on Jiang Cheng's.

[ . . . ]

"Fine." Nie Huaisang pouted and turned. "I'll go ask Wei-xiong - "

And Jiang Cheng was easy, he was so easy, he'd always been easy, the only new thing is the faintest edge of wariness to his fury -

He grabbed Nie Huaisang's elbow in a flash and snapped, "Ugh, fine, I'll go - but I'm holding the wine."

Nie Huaisang laughed and handed it over. Jiang Cheng immediately took a deep swig.

[ . . . ]

It must've been a quiet night at the Jingshi. Wei Wuxian's sleeping robes didn't look the least bit hastily pulled on, and his lips were only the slightest bit red and puffy.

[ . . . ]

[for the record, this takes place in a book-show postcanon fusion wherein immediately post-Guanyin Temple, WWX and LWJ ran off to fuck in the bushes at least once a day for as long as possible, but in their absence, various sect leaders voted that Lan Wangji should be Chief Cultivator now, and alas some messenger caught up with them about six months into their honeymoon. Definitely caught them in flagrante delicto. Tragic for all. I’d probably communicate all this hereish somehow. It was definitely NHS who finally tipped someone off on how to actually find them.]

[ . . . ]

"Yes, yes, I'm coming," Wei Wuxian said, with a lidded look at Nie Huaisang, and Nie Huaisang burst into a giggles because the two most unequivocally lethal people he knew were afraid to leave each other alone with him, and it was satisfying to be recognized but also what's he going to do, personally? Cry at them? It'd taken him years to destroy Jin Guangyao, and at this point it'd take him months, if not years again to re-destroy the Yiling Patriarch, much less Sandu Shengshou. Especially when they both kept doing things like watching each others backs while pretending they weren't.

[ . . . ]

"Of course we need more!" Wei Wuxian declared. "This isn't even Emperor's Smile!"

[ . . . ]

"It's just a rat or something," Jiang Cheng scoffed.

"So?!" Wei Wuxian cried grandly. "Are we not noble cultivators? Is it not our duty to investigate this woman's complaint, and to slay whatever monster plagues her good inn’s wonderful cellar, whether deathly or monstrous or rodential it be?" He turned to Nie Huaisang and begged, "Help me out, Nie-xiong. You agree with me, right?"

Nie Huaisang clutched his cup against his chest, eyes wide, and shook his head in sharp jerks. "I don't know! I don't know!"

Wei Wuxian laughed and elbowed him in the side.

[ . . . ]

[while waiting for Wei Wuxian to send some sort of signal]

"You know I don't bear any grudge against Jin Ling, right?"

Jiang Cheng's impatient glare snapped to him, darkening with threat; his hand shifted on Sandu's hilt toward a drawing position. "What?"

"I don't bear any sort of grudge against Jin Ling," Nie Huaisang repeated, holding only the last jar of Emperor's Smile. "That's why you've been side-eyeing me all night, right? All conference." He took another sip (it really was the best!) and added recklessly, "If I wanted Jin Ling dead and disgraced, or all Carp Tower burned to ash, they already would be."

Sandu slid an inch out of its scabbard and Nie Huaisang watch it with fascinated curiosity. From a greater distance, he wondered if that was entirely healthy.

"What about Lotus Pier?" Jiang Cheng asked abruptly.

It took Nie Huaisang a blinking moment to focus on him.

"What about Lotus Pier?"

Jiang Cheng sat beside him on the cold earth and yanked the jar out of his hands, cruelly before Nie Huaisang could take another sip.

"Where's your grand terrible vengeance against me and mine? I get it, but if you're being honest for once right now, you could at least tell me when it's going to hit, and how."

"What?" Nie Huaisang pushed himself against his tree trunk, genuinely confused. "Why would i have a terrible vengeance planned against you?"

"I benefitted from Nie Mingjue's death, didn't I?" Jiang Cheng took another swig of wine of his own, and swung the jar illustratively. "My disciples have hunted in your territory while you 'weren't paying attention.' I absolutely fleeced you in that trade deal four years ago. And I worked with that bastard as much as anyone but Lan Xichen, especially on those damn watchtowers, and you broke him. So when's it my turn?" He pointed at Nie Huaisang, finger only wavering slightly. “If you fuck with Jin Ling, Wei Wuxian, or my sect, I will fuck you back.”

"You- oh, gimme that. Gimme. Gimme!" Nie Huaisang leaned forward and tried to grab the wine jar, and more importantly whined until Jiang Cheng handed it to him.

He stared at it for a moment, thrust it back and ordered, “Drink,” without letting it go, and once Jiang Cheng had dutifully tilted it back, pulled it back and slugged down the last swallows. He needed more alcohol for this much honesty, and so did Jiang Cheng.

He set the jar down very carefully, because the ground seemed to be moving, and leaned forward with even more care. He enunciated clearly, “Everyone fleeced me, and hunted in my territory, and I acsh- ass- let them. Why would I expect you to go looking for trouble with Jin Guangyao, when he had your heart locked in a box in his treasure room?”

Jiang Cheng, who was a respected master of all five arts but probably hadn’t actually read poetry for fun since an instructor had officially declared him as such, and who was himself at least a full wine jar in, squinted in angry confusion.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes. “He had final say over where and how Jin Ling spent his time, and could’ve tried to poison him against you. What would you have even have done if I had come complaining?”

Jiang Cheng’s face only fell further, with the very sort of drunken moroseness Nie Huaisang was out here to avoid.

Nie Huaisang attempted to swap him sharply. He failed on both the swap and the sharpness. 

“Stoppit! Stop thinking you’re not useful! You weren’t! I needed to pry er-ge away from him and for that only Lan Wangji would work, and I needed someone to watch his back through thick and deadly thin, and to be so disruptive that even Meng Yao couldn’t...circle, sneaky, planning...”

They were waiting for the pulse of a light talisman from the other tunnel entrance, half a mile away. There was a small but very bright explosion. laced with resentful as well as spiritual energy.

“Motherfucker!” Jiang Cheng cursed, leaping to his feet and drawing Sandu in one hideously coordinated motion. 

“Just Lan Wangji, I think,” Nie Huaisang said, because Nie Mingjue himself couldn’t have stopped him. He groped for his own weapons - fan, check; wine jar - 

“Oh no!” 

“What?”  Jiang Cheng snapped, as he bent and dragged Nie Huaisang to his feet with one hand. (Hideously coordinated. Sword people, honestly...)

“He’s going to be so mad that we finished the wine without him!”

[ . . . ]

[three grown-ass men, two sect leaders and one Yiling Patriarch, flying at high speed through Caiyi Town on one sword, all screaming. Nie Huaisang is clinging to Wei Wuxian; Wei Wuxian is flinging to Jiang Cheng, a little bit to Nie Huaisang, and most importantly to a chicken, Jiang Cheng is flying the sword. There is a bedsheet draped over all of them from where they ran into a laundry line. It’s 2am. Again I say, all are screaming]

[ . . . ]

[it probably wasn’t a rat - not just one, at least. Wei Wuxian does something incredibly clever, possibly including a creative use of that bedsheet; Jiang Cheng singlehandedly defeats something in combat, probably after he and Wei Wuxian shove each other out of the way of blows without either of them acknowledging it. Nie Huaisang shoves them both under cover and then with perfect professionalism tells whoever came to check on the ruckus that they handled the problem exactly as planned with absolutely no involvement of alcohol, and the Chief Cultivator will foot the bill for the unfortunately absolutely necessary property damage. Overall, they did handle the problem, but the local cryptid they were chasing will only have its reputation swelled and its continued existence assumed by all locals. it is possible that they themselves made this cryptid up two decades ago, but idk how heavy-handed we want to be.]

[ . . . ]

Nie Huaisang was leaning heavily on Wei Wuxian by the time they got back to the guest quarters. He could hold his alcohol, he was a goddamn Nie, and frankly he’d had it adrenalined out of him at least twice this evening. But he’d also had rather a lot, and he didn’t have Jiang Cheng’s golden core or Wei Wuxian’s blithe lack of sleep schedule. 

“I missed this,” he admitted, head on Wei Wuxian’s (Mo Xuanyu’s) shoulder while Jiang Cheng opened the door.

Wei Wuxian leaned his head on Nie Huaisang’s. “Me too.”

“You’re both fucking annoying,” Jiang Cheng grouched, which meant, Me too.

Wei Wuxian stripped off Nie Huaisang’s muddy outer robe and tucked him into bed, and Jiang Cheng poured a glass of water from the pitcher by the door, drank it, poured another, scowled at Wei Wuxian for a moment, and set it on the bedside table. Wei Wuxian glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, finished with Nie Huaisang and started backing out of the room.

Nie Huaisang sat up more or less abruptly. “Both of you have got to stop that bullshit. I miss my brothers, okay? I’d I had a second chance...” He sagged back down with the plural, and flung an arm over his damp eyes. There was a glimmer in the sky; it’d be morning by Lan standards soon. “I fucking miss them.”

“...Ah,” said Wei Wuxian, who always spoke even when he didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said abruptly, and, “Drink your fucking water.” And the door slammed behind him as he walked out.

[...a few lines of dialogue later...]

“Seriously, you can go.” Nie Huaisang flicked a few tired fingers in dismissal.

“Are you sure?” Wei Wuxian added with an audible smirk, “Because if I stay up for another half hour, I can wake Lan Zhan with a morning...big ol’...loving...”

Nie Huaisang finally adjusted his arm to crack one eye up at him.

“People usually cut me off before I get that far,” Wei Wuxian admitted.

[ . . . a bit more dialogue and the end.]

[hunxi-guilai]

general fatal journey reactions!

okay so it only took me like a month and a million to get around to watching Fatal Journey, but boy howdy was it a trip

watched it with friends (remotely!), which meant that I had to go into this with a drinking game (which, for the record, we’d made with no concept of the plot):

FATAL JOURNEY DRINKING GAME

take a sip every time:

- Nie Huaisang smacks his palm with his fan

- Nie Huaisang says “I don’t know”

- Nie Huaisang asks someone to do something for him

- Nie Mingjue is badass

- Nie Mingjue is mean to Jin Guangyao

- Nie Mingjue remote-controls Baxia

- Jin Guangyao plays mind games with anyone

- bad CGI

- knowing the events of CQL make you cringe from the Sheer Dramatic Irony of it all

- the subtitles make you wince

I’ll include an updated version of this drinking game with the glorious clarity of hindsight, though for the record, we were still very well hydrated by the end of the movie with this one (there are just scenes that are non-stop drinking).

More specific thoughts under the cut!

Okay, first things first, I gotta talk about Nie Zonghui, because the filmmakers reached into my brain and dragged out my ideal secondary character:

ridiculously competent

genuinely loyal

s e n s i b l e (i.e. doesn’t strike up an argument about morality in the middle of a dangerous saber tomb, I love you Nie Huaisang but there is a TIME and a PLACE--)

saber dual-wielder oh my god

If you’ve stayed tuned to my blog for quite a while, you’ll know that I have a thing for capable minor characters in the background of main character drama, just chugging along doing their job making sure the world can keep turning while their sect leaders are out here destroying perfectly good capes and being dramatic.

Anyways. I loved Nie Zonghui pretty much from the moment he appeared, which made the big boss battle at the end that much more awesome.

Speaking of which, let’s talk fight choreography

this movie was SO MUCH OF WHAT I WANTED. Y’all know I have Feelings about fight choreography and Fatal Journey delivered. We have dual-wielder Nie Zonghui (I cannot overstate how much I love dual wielders, they’re the coolest ever and if I could magically obtain proficiency in a wushu field I would choose 双刀 shuangdao / double knives. Heck, forget the magic -- I’d sign up for shuangdao wushu classes in a heartbeat, uh, world willing) and like, real fight scenes

we have more than the awkward sword-smacks that we get in CQL! There are real injuries! Sabers get used as the sharp implements they are rather than blunt objects! We get a kickass Nie Mingjue and Nie Zonghui team-up! Have I mentioned how much I adore Nie Zonghui! B A T T L E B R O S 

AND THEN we get NIE MINGJUE VS. NIE ZONGHUI HECK YEAH

I was afraid when they went for Big CGI Monsters Bashing Each Other With CGI Fists, that they’d dust their hands off and call it a day for their big boss battle but no!!!! They gave us CGI fight lovingly interwoven with some kickass fight choreography and I am so here for it

you know what I’m also here for? all the magic! The way Nie Huaisang utilizes ‘astronomy’ / his three brain cells to solve the puzzles of the saber tomb -- it’s an excellent way of making Nie Huaisang absolutely integral to the success of their mission, and it also makes a lot of in-universe sense; you can only find your way out the saber tomb if you’re sane and stable enough to put the clues together

so the scene where Nie Huaisang single-handedly re-aligns all the coffins on his own? yes good you’re doing great sweetie how could anyone call you useless

(another reason to love Nie Zonghui -- Nie Huaisang calls himself useless and Nie Zonghui just looks confused like “no??? how could you think that???? tell me who said that and I’ll break his legs with my sabers. the blunt ends if they’re lucky”)

okay but I’m still thinking about Nie Zonghui, and the fact that he took the hit for Nie Mingjue that turned him into a saber spirit vessel

wait hang side note? that saber spirit? ridiculously powerful. Could go toe-to-toe with Nie Mingjue, who’s like, one of the juggernauts of the cast in terms of sheer martial prowess. Might be able to give Wen Ruohan a run for his money. Which either means that Baxia by the beginning of CQL didn’t quite have the same power levels as the ancestral tomb saber spirit, or Lan Wangji is Just That OP. Maybe both.

but that means that there is an alternate timeline (not a good alternate timeline, mind you) where Nie Zonghui doesn’t get there in time and it’s Nie Mingjue who gets possessed by the saber spirit

just... think about that for a hot second, folks

the rest of CQL could’ve happened very, very differently

Another thing I really enjoyed was seeing Nie Sect culture! That is, their assumed loyalty to each other, unhesitating unswerving unflinching willingness to do whatever it takes to get the job done, and considering the fact that the Qinghe Nie Sect’s primary personality trait is “shares a border with Qishan and is constantly fending off Wen Sect invasions,” yeah, that checks out.

all righty I’m close to a thousand words into the post have have managed to write my way around the central theme of the movie, i.e. NIE BROS FEELS, but it’s getting late and that’s basically the next ask I’m working on anyway

coming full circle to the beginning of this post, I present:

FATAL JOURNEY DRINKING GAME, REVISED

take a sip every time:

- Nie Huaisang licks his brush

- Nie Huaisang says “da-ge”

- something happens to Nie Mingjue’s eyes (including crying)

- Nie Mingjue remote-controls Baxia

- Jin Guangyao plays mind games with anyone

- Nie Zonghui is the MVP of a scene

- Chekhov’s piccolo

- you recognize the CQL soundtrack

- you hear the instrumental version of 清河诀 Qinghe Jue

- good CGI

- knowing the events of CQL make you cringe from the Sheer Dramatic Irony of it all

- the subtitles make you wince

Finish your drink when:

- the electric guitar kicks in

[himbeaux-on-ice]

if people, and by this I really mean certain sects of Habs fans, don’t shut the fuck up with these smarmy posts about “who REALLY won the Pacioretty/Suzuki trade” I am genuinely going to snap. This post might even qualify as snapping. I’m fed up.

BOTH teams won that trade. Both did. Smarter people than me have said this. Both teams and both players ended up getting exactly what they needed in the long run. The only argument for one being truly above and beyond the other is that one team also got a pretty useful Tomas Tatar thrown in to boot. Which. Point Montreal, I guess.

Listen.

Nick Suzuki is a fucking amazing young player who is only going to get better, with incredible character and intangibles to boot. You would be lucky to get to draft him, let alone trade for him as a prospect. I genuinely believe they would have to be idiots not to make him captain of the Habs someday, when he is older and ready to shoulder it, because he clearly is a great leader in the making in addition to a player of remarkable skill. He is the centrepiece of the future of the Canadiens franchise, and I don’t even know in what direction they would even be building right now without him at the heart of the plan. With Vegas having less need for young players right now than Montreal, I am glad he got to end up somewhere he can crack the lineup and shine, and it has been a true pleasure to watch him rise to that opportunity these last two years while knowing the best is still yet to come.

Max Pacioretty has rebounded from the shit treatment he got from management in Montreal to become an absolutely indispensable part of the Vegas offence the last two years following a slow first season. The 2021 season particularly was one of the best of his entire career, scoring goals at his second-best ever pace (one every two games) and THE best point-production pace he has ever had (1.06 points/game) — numbers which in an 82-game season could have seen him crack forty goals and eighty-plus points. As of the end of Round 2, after coming back from being out for 27 days with injury, he has had a point or more in all 7 playoff games he has played, including a career-high THREE game-winning playoff goals (and a primary assist on a fourth GWG), tying him for a franchise record for longest playoff point streak. In addition to leading the team wih 24 goals this regular season (this despite missing 8 games), his teammates and coach cite him as a presence who makes the whole locker room feel more confident in their winning ability just by being there and playing his part. He has been incredibly valuable to the team’s goal to Win Now, especially this year, and has been every bit a worthwhile acquisition for them, both as a leader and as a contributor on the ice. They would not be where they are in the season/playoffs right now without him.

IT IS PERFECTLY POSSIBLE FOR BOTH TEAMS TO HAVE WON OUT IN THIS TRADE. WILDLY, TWO THINGS CAN BE TRUE AT THE SAME TIME.

I myself am going to enjoy watching these franchises go head to head, and these talented players compete against each other as the next chapter of this story. It will be fun to see who wins between them, it’s true! But there is LITERALLY no reason to shit on one of these two incredibly skilled players of colour as your new favourite way of praising the other one, besides to prove that you have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about and haven’t done an ounce of research before you opened your mouth.

It’s irritating, it’s petty, it’s ignorant, and this refrain which rapidly become a pet peeve of mine this season often feels like an attempt to rationalize and pretend that the shitty way Habs management treated Pacioretty at the end of his time in Montreal (never mind Therrien’s typically appalling behaviour in the years before that) was something he must have deserved, just so that fans don’t feel any guilt-by-association about it. There are a lot of bullshit fan narratives that get drug around in hockey year after year, but this “Pacioretty isn’t worth anything anymore anyway so the Habs won that trade” one that refuses to die IRKS me. It is MEAN and it is FALSE and it is just SILLY.

And if it’s what I’m going to have to look at in Habs spaces throughout this series, one which I want to enjoy between two talented teams I both love. Well, you are allowed to say and think whatever you want in the end, but in that case I will find other people to enjoy these semifinal games with besides the people on this website. Good goddamn day.

[ibijau]

for the record, the Worst Engagement AU is now also on AO3, although updates there will be what they are, since I want AO3 to have things in chronological order and I just... write stuff at random orz

anyway, a short thing set right before this ficlet. nhs is 10, lxc is 12

Nie Huaisang understands marriage. He’s clever, and he’s seen it around him. People get married, they kiss, they sleep in the same room, and after a while the wife has a baby, and then after another while she dies, and the husband has to start looking for a new wife. It’s how it went for both of his father’s marriages anyway, and he knows it was the same for Sect Leader Lan (though he never looked for another wife, but the Lans are weird). He can name a few more examples like that. Of course, there are also wives that don’t die, but he assumes it’s just a matter of time, or because someone has to be left to look out for all those babies.

As it is, he wonders how that’s going to work for him. He knows he can’t have a baby, and neither can Lan Xichen, so it’s unclear which one of them is supposed to die. He suspects it’s him, since Lan Xichen will need to become Sect Leader and can’t afford to die. For the first few months after the engagement is announced, it gives him nightmares that he has to pretend he doesn’t remember. Nie Huaisang knows that as a rule, sharing his nightmares with his family is a bad idea and just gets him teased or scolded, and he gets scolded enough already.

Because if the nightmares are unpleasant enough, they’re the least worst part of this engagement thing.

First, there’s the fact that suddenly, everyone keeps telling him that he needs to work harder at… just about everything, really. Of course, everyone has always been telling him that for as long as Nie Huaisang can remember, but now there’s a new urgency to it. After all, he is engaged to the wonderful, the amazing, the perfect Lan Xichen, and must show himself worthy of it. Not a day passes without someone reminding him that he’ll dishonour their entire sect if he proves inadequate, that an entire alliance rests on his small shoulders. He is his father’s son, his brother’s sibling, he has no excuse to be so bad at everything. No excuse save laziness, and an innate inability to focus.

Second, there’s his fiancé. Everyone says that Lan Xichen is perfect and polite and so mature and wonderful, but Nie Huaisang just finds him rude and cold. Well. Cold to him. There’s no ignoring the fact that Lan Xichen can be very nice when he wants. He’s plenty nice to Nie Mingjue for sure, the two having become instant friends. They write to each other all the time. And every time they all meet so the adults can continue discussing the terms of the engagement, Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen will find ways to dump Nie Huaisang and go have fun without him.

That’s why at the fourth or fifth such meeting, Nie Mingjue has to stay behind in the Unclean Realm while Nie Huaisang and their father go to the Cloud Recesses.

Lan Xichen is… disappointed to say the least. The expression on his face when he realises that only sect leader Nie and Nie Huaisang are there is… the closest to an actual emotion that Nie Huaisang has ever seen on his future husband’s face. It doesn’t last, of course. Lan Xichen is stupidly perfect and schools his features into the most annoyingly empty smile that Nie Huaisang has ever seen. Anger would be better.

“Xichen, take Nie gongzi to your room and entertain him while we talk,” Lan Qiren orders. 

“Of course, uncle,” Lan Xichen replies, with a perfect smile and a perfect, elegant gesture inviting Nie Huaisang to follow him.

They get to his room, and it’s not a bad place. Nie Huaisang likes how clean and well organised it is, with large windows that let in a lot of light. The Cloud Recesses aren’t a fortress, it’s a place built to meditate and admire the world and in some ways, Nie Huaisang could almost be happy that it will be his home someday.

The only problem is that it’ll be his home with Lan Xichen.

“I’m sorry that Dage couldn’t come this time,” he mutters, watching his impassive fiancé take out a guqin and carefully lay it in front of him.

“I am sorry as well,” Lan Xichen coldly replies, motionning for for Nie Huaisang to sit down while he starts playing.

Lan Xichen starts practising the guqin without sparing any attention for his financé. Nie Huaisang genuinely enjoys it, to his own surprise. There hasn’t been a lot of music in the Unclean Realm since his mother died along with the little sister who never breathed, but Nie Huaisang realises he missed it. It helps that Lan Xichen is so great at it. He really is just as perfect as everyone says, but for once Nie Huaisang doesn’t really mind. For the first time since the engagement was decided a year before, Nie Huaisang starts to think that maybe this won’t be quite as awful as he thought.

But it’s when he switches to the xiao that Lan Xichen really shines. Even Nie Huaisang, with his unrefined taste and lack of musical education, is blown away by his fiancé's skill. When Lan Xichen plays the xiao, it his more harmonious than the most talented songbird, more soothing than the sounds of a peaceful river, more beautiful even the music played by those friends of Nie Huaisang’s mother, the ones who were so great they had played several times for the emperor. And Lan Xichen is still only twelve. Nie Huaisang remembers hearing that Lan Xichen only started playing the xiao earlier this year, which means he still had room to improve.

The divide between them, one skilled at everything he does, the other failing at everything he tries, could not be greater.

And yet, watching and listening to Lan Xichen, Nie Huaisang wonders if he could ask to learn how to play music. He’s not so bold that he would ask Lan Xichen to teach him, and they don’t see each other often enough for it to be efficient. But he could ask his father if maybe, just maybe, he might learn an instrument. It would be nice if they finally had something in common. It’s unlikely they’ll ever like each other, and Nie Huaisang will never be good enough to play together, but if they can have something to talk about, if they can at least get along...

He never asks, in the end. As soon as the adults return, Lan Xichen enquires if Nie Mingjue can come next time, because Nie Huaisang is just too quiet and won’t talk to him.

When they get to the guest quarters, his father scolds him for acting shy.

Nie Huaisang doesn’t try explaining he didn’t want to bother his fiancé, that the music was too pretty. He guesses that if he’d tried to chat, Lan Xichen would have complained against being distracted.

He just can’t ever do anything right, anyway.

[radishtears]

gently, we fall

... ... ...

Meeting old ‘friends’, featuring...

Lan Wangji, Lan Yuan, Wei Wuxian.

So apparently this won’t be in chronological order, necessarily. The power of WangXian is just too strong.

... ... ...

Wei Wuxian’s grave is empty now but Lan Wangji still visits every year without fail. A night rarely passes that Lan Wangji doesn’t dream back to the day when a grand celebration had become a nightmare.

The Jiang siblings waiting eagerly for Wei Wuxian’s arrival, news of Jin Zixuan going to check the situation, Lan Wangji rushing after him, a tendril of unease tugging at his heart.

Yet...

Too late, always too late. Now, Lan Wangji is left with nothing but memories to cling to.

He is thankful for little A-Yuan, though — Lan Yuan. Teaching him and looking after him is a good distraction and he genuinely cares for the child, as well. And...even though Lan Yuan’s time under Wei Wuxian’s wing was short, Lan Wangji sees a little of that bright youth in him, he likes to think. A connection to cherish.

Besides, thanks to A-Yuan, Lan Wangji has a valid reason to visit Lotus Pier.

In the aftermath, eight years ago, Lan Wangji had been the first person to speak out for the remaining Wens on the Burial Mounds. Jiang Wanyin, surprisingly, had joined his ranks. He must’ve simply been opposing everything Jin Guangshan wanted, at that point. It didn’t matter. Anything to protect what Wei Ying left behind.

The Wens ended up under Gusu Lan’s protection, given a small plot of land near the outskirts of their territory. Afterwards, when Lan Wangji had accompanied them safely to their new home, Wen Qing approached him with a familiar child in her arms.

One last favour, she asked of him. A-Yuan couldn’t learn much with the Wens. And if the Lan Sect didn’t mind, let him take their name. It’ll be easier for him, Wen Qing said, pragmatic as always.

Lan Wangji agreed readily.

...

The first time Lan Wangji goes to Lotus Pier, it is the seventh day of Wei Ying’s death. The funeral rituals are elaborate and complete, befitting of a sect leader’s son. As Gusu Lan’s esteemed Second Young Master, Lan Wangji is allowed to play Inquiry. There is no answer.

“Xian-gege isn’t coming back?” A-Yuan asks, eyes glossy with tears. “But why? I miss him.”

Lan Wangji tightens his hands around the little bundle of warmth in his lap and whispers, “So do I.” He doesn’t know if they’ll be welcome here again.

But Jiang Yanli, still pale and swollen-eyed with grief, spots A-Yuan and takes an immediate liking to him. She smiles gently up at Lan Wangji and asks him to bring A-Yuan to visit.

“Come often, as much as A-Yuan would like. I’m sure he will get along with A-Ling.”

And so every year, at least once, Lan Wangji has a perfect excuse to return to Wei Ying’s home. Every year, he plays Inquiry. Every year, there is no answer.

Then, three years ago, news of grave robbers defiling the Yiling Patriarch’s grave spread across the cultivation world. Lan Wangji feels a scorching anger. And so he had another reason to visit Yunmeng.

...

This year’s investigation has also been fruitless so far, but Lan Wangji is not on official business this visit. Lan Yuan is with him.

Lotus Pier’s doorkeepers spot him and greet him in a practiced way. One of them goes to inform their sect leader but Lan Wangji is allowed to go in right away. Young Madam Jin — also Lotus Pier’s Eldest Lady — is expecting them today.

Lan Wangji hears from the servants that Jiang Yanli is still occupied with a last minute matter so he decides to visit Wei Wuxian first.

It’s a well-trodden path.  

But this time, on the way there, he hears a certain melody...he thinks he must be hallucinating. The melody fades as he keeps heading towards his original destination but A-Yuan tugs on his sleeve.

“Hanguang-jun, who was playing the flute? It was such a pretty melody.”

Lan Wangji turns and runs in the opposite direction. Poor Lan Yuan has to sprint to catch up.

He’s there, resting on the lowest branch of an old tree. His eyes are closed, though not covered, and Chenqing rests in his lap. For Lan Wangji, it’s as if time as flown backwards to a certain warm afternoon. He walks forward, entranced, and gets close enough to touch the black cloth draping down among the leaves. He cannot believe his eyes but he would recognize Wei Ying’s face anywhere. He sees it often enough in dreams.

Wei Wuxian seems to sense a presence nearby and slowly opens his eyes. He is visibly taken aback by his visitor’s identity but Lan Wangji speaks first, for once, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush.

“Wei Ying!”

“Ah, Lan Zhan. I didn’t expect to see you here.” His smile is dazzling like no time has passed. But he looks down and says, “...That hurts a little.”  

Unconsciously, Lan Wangji had taken Wei Wuxian’s wrist in his hand, gripping hard. But Lan Wangji doesn’t let go upon realizing. A frown grows on Wei Wuxian’s face.

“Impressive. After all this time, Hanguang-jun’s first instinct is to drag this demonic cultivator back to Gusu?” he says, voice cold.

Lan Wangji’s breath catches.

“N-no, Wei Ying, I...” But his stumbling denial is interrupted by a youthful voice, tear-filled and hopeful.

“Wei-qianbei! Is it really you? Are you Wei Wuxian, Wei-qianbei?”

Bewildered, WWX turns to the speaker. “You...you’re...?”

“I’m A-Yuan! Wei-qianbei remembers A-Yuan, right? Xian-gege! Both A-Yuan and Hanguang-jun missed you very much!” The person in front of him matches the figure in his memories and, coupled with Hanguang-jun’s reaction, there’s no doubt left in the ten-year-old’s mind.

It’s Wei Wuxian’s turn to be stunned. The hand clamped on his wrist is forgotten as he leans forward.

“You’re A-Yuan?” Before he can say anything more, Jiang Cheng’s voice thunders out from a distance.

“Wei Wuxian! Didn’t I tell you to stay inside?! You’re not recovered yet from the last time —  do you want A-Jie to worry?! How old are you that you still need a babysitter, huh—?!” He stops dead when he spots the visitors. “...Hanguang-jun. I’ve been remiss in my welcome. Please join us in the great hall.”

“...No matter.”  

Wei Wuxian, with great timing, loses his balance and falls out of his perch with a small yelp.

“Ah! Xian-gege!”

He lands in a sturdy hold. Eyes lock and a strange feeling rises.

The moment passes when Jiang Cheng clears his throat.

“Ahem. Thanks for catching me, Hanguang-jun. Would’ve been an ugly sight if I landed on my butt. Haha.”

Lan Wangji stares at him and there’s something unreadable in those light amber eyes. “No need for thanks,” Lan Wangji says. He makes to follow Jiang Cheng’s retreating back.

“H-hey, wait!”

Lan Wangji stops again and looks back down at Wei Wuxian.

“...You can put me down, you know?”

Lan Wangji blinks and, after a second, slowly sets Wei Wuxian back down on his feet.

“My apologies.”

“Uh—“ Wei Wuxian stares as Lan Wangji continues walking, his footsteps quick and strangely stiff. Beside him, A-Yuan takes a hold of Wei Wuxian’s sleeve.

“Wow, Hanguang-jun’s ears are so red!”

“...”

... ... ...

These drabbles are becoming longer than I’d expected... But don’t expect them to stay this way lol.

So Wei Wuxian already knows about the Wens but he didn’t know that the Lans took in A-Yuan. Why didn’t the Jiang siblings tell him? Jiang Cheng doesn’t care and Jiang Yanli...well, who knows? ;P

Lan Yuan is around 10 right now, so he isn’t usually called by his courtesy name yet. This is my own design since the MDZS verse didn’t really clarify this aspect. A quick search tells me there’s some record that men got their courtesy name at adulthood, at age 20 (correct me if this is wrong), which obviously isn’t the case in MDZS.

Even though Jin Ling had his name picked out before birth, and in the audio drama LWJ had picked “Sizhui” soon after he brought him back, I’m setting it so they aren’t actually given the names until later.

In GWF verse, there’s lots of flexibility regarding courtesy names, but it’s generally given around age 12.  Why 12? Because Reasons.

... ... ...

Next time: jumping back to WWX returning to Lotus Pier and expanding on the aftermath of his death.

Maybe. Subject to mind changing and interest.  

Buy me a Ko-fi!

[curiosity-killed]

a bow for the bad decisions: chapter 16

prev | start | next

(on ao3)

The first time he sees Lan Wangji after the siege of the Burial Mounds is at a discussion conference in Lanling, two months after Jin Guangshan’s death. Jiang Cheng arrives early, as is his wont, to steal a few hours with his family before he has to settle into politics. Jin Ling is at that age where he devours stories and eagerly drags Jiang Cheng into play-fighting with him, and a-Mu is just old enough to run after him, wailing at him to play with her. He ropes them both into using jie’s garden as an obstacle course, naming different flowers as bases to balance on one foot or roll a ball to Jiang Cheng, who acts as the judge and timer. Jie and Jin Zixuan sit together on a bench under a plum tree, watching with matching looks of amusement. Fatherhood has mellowed Jin Zixuan — or maybe that’s the blow his arrogance took when he lost much of his cultivation. He holds jie’s hand as carefully as a peony blossom and watches his children race around like living blessings. “Are you trying to set a record for the earliest golden core formation with our kids?” he asks at one point. Bracing his hands on his hips, Jiang Cheng scoffs. It’s true that this game is based on the earliest training they give to initiates, but they won’t start their actual training till they’re ten at least. “They have Jiang and Jin blood,” he points out instead. “They don’t need any help.”

Jie shakes her head a little, but there’s a smile on her lips. 

“Jiujiu, I’m tired,” Jin Ling complains, running over to collapse against Jiang Cheng’s leg. A-Mu stomps after him, her hair a wild cloud around her head. Snorting, Jiang Cheng tousles Jin Ling’s hair to match and crouches down to scoop up a-Mu before she flops back down in the dirt again. “Are you going to be good and nap for your a-niang, then?” he asks. Jin Ling nods vigorously, his dark eyes big and wide in his face. Satisfied, Jiang Cheng offers his hand and tries not to preen when Jin Ling still clutches hold of him. It’s ridiculous to be thrilled by having his nephew like him. That doesn’t stop warm delight from blooming in his chest as he leads them back to their parents. “Oh, a-Mu,” jie laughs, covering her lips with a hand at the sight. Scowling, a-Mu tucks her face into Jiang Cheng’s collar as if that can hide the mess she’s made of herself. Jin Zixuan sighs, looking briefly exhausted. “I don’t imagine Sandu Shengshou will be washing all that off of her,” he remarks. “No bath!” a-Mu yells, full-throated, into Jiang Cheng’s ear.

Jiang Cheng winces but still passes his niece over to her father. He’s not sure if the Lans’ musical cultivation includes voice cultivation, but he thinks she might be a strong contender for it if it does. “No bath!” she shrieks again, flailing a little in Jin Zixuan’s arms. “Jin Mu, behave,” he warns, leaning back from her little fists. Unsurprisingly, his authority doesn’t seem to extend to a toddler. Still holding onto Jiang Cheng’s hand, Jin Ling frowns. “A-Mu,” he says gently, “a-Mu, be nice to a-die. No hitting.” She scowls, mouth trembling, and Jiang Cheng braces himself for the screaming to begin. As fussy as Jin Ling was as a baby, he has nothing on a-Mu: the girl could outscream a typhoon. “Here, a-Xuan, I’ll take her to clean up and rest,” jie says, holding out her arms. For a moment, Jin Zixuan looks like he’ll agree, but instead he shakes his head and adjusts a-Mu so he can stand. A-Mu fists one hand in the fine gold silk of his outer robe, her face still flushed and moments from tears. “I won’t be much help during the conference,” Jin Zixuan says by way of explanation. “I can take on bath time now.” Jiang Cheng flinches preemptively, and sure enough, at the word ‘bath,’ a-Mu leans back and starts wailing. Fat tears puddle up and drip down her chubby cheeks, and her shrieking scream pierces his ears. Jin Zixuan grimaces but just holds her a little more securely before starting toward their rooms. He still walks with a slight limp, his left leg a little slower than his right. Turning his gaze down to Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng gives his little hand a squeeze. “What about you, a-Ling?” he asks. “Are you going to be good while your die and jiujiu are busy?” “Yes, jiujiu!” he chirps. “A-Ling will be really good for a-niang. I’ll make sure a-Mu is good, too.” “Good luck,” Jiang Cheng snorts, and earns himself a scolding look from jie. They walk together back to Jin Zixuan and jie’s portion of the tower, Jin Ling holding one of each their hands. He hums a little to himself, content to bounce between them while they talk over his head. “I’m sorry we haven’t been to visit recently,” jie says. “Jin-furen has been unwell since Jin-zongzhu passed, and Jin Zixuan worries over her. Seeing little a-Ling and a-Mu seems to help.” Jiang Cheng shakes his head to brush off the apology, even as part of him warms at it. He’s always known his sister would leave Lotus Pier and build a new family here in Carp Tower. It’s still nice to here that she hasn’t stayed away by choice. “I could ask Wen Qing if she’d be willing to visit,” he offers. Jie hesitates, pressing her lips thin. “I hate to mistrust family,” she says, “but…” But they both remember Jin Guangshan’s eagerness to cut down any living Wens. The way he’d nearly screamed at Nie Mingjue when the younger sect leader declared Wen Qing was to remain in his custody. Even with him gone, there’s still a sense of unease that follows him here, the watchful weight of hidden eyes. “Anyway, she seems to have settled in so well at Lotus Pier,” jie says. “I’d hate to disrupt that.” “She has become a fixture among the physicians,” Jiang Cheng acknowledges. “Xiong-daifu is very fond of her, and they’ve started making changes to the subdistrict physicians’ practices.” “A-Cheng,” jie says with laughter tucked in the corners of her smile, “I don’t just mean with the physicians.” He frowns, meeting her eye. Wen Qing has seemed to settle in at Lotus Pier all around, but as a doctor, her focus has remained with the medical staff. Their dinner conversations no longer remain solely focused on work — he’s a little embarrassed how often he finds himself telling her stories of growing up in Lotus Pier instead — but he’s always pleased to hear the way she’s further pushing Yunmeng Jiang’s medicine. “A-Cheng, do you really not know?” jie asks, and now her laughter slips through so that she covers her lips, eyes bright with amusement. “Oh, didi, you’ll figure it out.” He’s a little miffed, but it’s hard to be annoyed in the face of a-jie’s pearl-like laughter. He huffs and looks away. By the time the rest of the sects arrive, he still hasn’t figured out what a-jie means, and so he pushes it to the side to focus on the leaders being announced. As the first arrival and given their family ties to the Jin, the Jiang are announced first, and he watches from the side of the hall as the Nie and then Lan are announced. These conferences have followed the same pattern in and out since the war. They’re almost always hosted in Lanling, and the same representatives seem to come from each sect. This time, Jiang Cheng is startled to see a familiar shadow at Lan Xichen’s shoulder. It’s been four years since he last saw Lan Wangji; he’d half-expected the man to remain in seclusion for the rest of his life. Instead, he walks with his chin lifted and gold eyes cold, wrapped in tight white robes. There is no blue in all that white, nothing to soften the sharp armor of grief. Something tangled rises up in Jiang Cheng’s chest and then subsides: grief like old blood, a sharp sting of jealousy that he can so brazenly wear his mourning. A weary understanding. Jie’s words come back to him from nearly two years ago now, and he resolves to speak with Lan Wangji when it’s possible. They were the only two there at the end, the only two who know what really happened. It’s easier to hurt when there’s someone who understands, he thinks. He doesn’t know how he would have gotten through these years without a-jie, Bujue — even Wen Qing. He thinks of Qian Xiashui and shivers away from that bloody spectre. At least he can offer solidarity, if Lan Wangji is willing to take it. They could return to that strange alliance they once held, where they weren’t really friends but would sit by the fire at night and accidentally say the things they couldn’t tell anyone else. By the end of those three months, they’d been nearly fluent in each other’s stiff silences. After this many years, perhaps they could build from there. They finish with all the proper greeting ceremonies, and then Nie Huaisang is at Jiang Cheng’s arm, and he loses sight of Lan Wangji. “Jiang-xiong, it’s been so boring lately,” Nie Huaisang complains. “You hardly visit anymore. What am I supposed to do?” “Practice with your saber?” Jiang Cheng suggests. Nie Huaisang pouts up at him, a look that is devastatingly effective coming from Jin Ling and absolutely revolting coming from a grown man. “Knock it off,” he scolds. “Anyway, did you ever find out more about the attacks?” He doesn’t specify which ones. He doesn’t need to; Nie Huaisang’s lips twist in something approaching genuine frustration, and he peels back with exaggerated disappointment. “Jiang-xiong, aren’t you asking a lot of me?” he whines. “Everyone knows I’m useless.” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes and doesn’t answer that. He believes Nie Huaisang is useless at wielding a saber or taking on even Jiang Cheng’s junior disciples, but he’s spent too much time around him to fully buy into the façade of flighty helplessness Nie Huaisang affects. “Whatever,” he says. “Let me know if you do find something out.” He dislodges Nie Huaisang and starts across the hall to where he spies a frosty pillar of white. “Jiang-xiong, where are you going?” Nie Huaisang gripes. “To greet Hanguang-jun,” he snaps. There’s a pause behind him, a hitch in Nie Huaisang’s walk. “Ah, Jiang-xiong, I—” he starts, but Jiang Cheng has already pulled away enough to make it to Lan Wangji unimpeded. He stops before him and offers a polite salute. “Hanguang-jun,” he greets, “I’m glad to see you here. Zewu-jun had told me of your seclusion.” Lan Wangji lifts his chin fractionally, just enough to direct his gaze above and to the left of Jiang Cheng’s face. Startled, Jiang Cheng stares. He hesitates, jaw working, before swallowing down some measure of pride and speaking honestly. “In truth, I had hoped to speak with you,” he admits. A flash of something sharp and vicious flashes across Lan Wangji’s face, and his gilt eyes shoot to Jiang Cheng. Rage burns in them, a wrath so overwhelming Jiang Cheng half-expects his heart to stop from the force of it. “Ah, Jiang-xiong, Lan-er-gongzi,” Nie Huaisang greets abruptly, clutching onto Jiang Cheng’s sleeve. “I’m so glad I caught up to you. Lan-er-gongzi, er-ge asked for you to speak with him and da-ge.” Lifting his chin, Lan Wangji steps neatly around them and walks away in silence. Jiang Cheng stares after, struck dumb with confusion and hurt. Nie Huaisang tugs on his sleeve, subtly yanking him out of the hall. He turns on him the moment they’ve crossed the threshold. “What was that?” he demands. Nie Huaisang at least has the grace to look sheepish as he releases Jiang Cheng’s sleeve. He takes a step away and flicks out his fan to shift the heavy air around them. “I did try to warn you,” he says. He glances up at Jiang Cheng. “I think it might be best if you don’t try to speak with Lan Wangji right now.” “What the— what have I done?” he demands. “I haven’t even seen him since the Burial Mounds.” The fan waves once, twice, as Nie Huaisang doesn’t meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “Well,” he says, “yes. You know what they say about the siege.” Recoiling, Jiang Cheng stares at him. Of course he knows what they say. He’s heard it a hundred thousand times: how Sandu Shengshou struck down his villainous shixiong and saved the cultivation world from the evil Yiling laozu, but— “But Lan Wangji was there,” he retorts. “He was—” Oh. Lan Wangji was there. At the end, he was the only one around who could have seen Jiang Cheng step forward with Sandu bared, the only one close enough to see him sink the blade into Wei Wuxian’s gut. Understanding dawns in horrifying light, and he takes a half-step back, shaking his head. “No, he wouldn’t,” he mutters. “He can’t believe—” Surely not. Lan Wangji has his own brother — would he ever turn on Lan Xichen if there were any other choice? He has to understand, somehow, that Jiang Cheng would never have killed Wei Wuxian if he’d had another option. He hadn’t wanted to, hadn’t meant to. He’d been trying to save Wei Wuxian, to stop him from doing something unforgivable. Lan Wangji has to understand. But. But Lan Wangji has never really cared for Jiang Cheng. Even in those three months where they were almost friends, it wasn’t for Jiang Cheng’s sake. They hadn’t bonded over their grief, then. They’d both been desperately searching for any sign of Wei Wuxian, any hope that he was still alive. They were arrows shot in parallel, not friends. And Jiang Cheng had killed Wei Wuxian. Whatever excuses he comes up with, that blood is still too-fresh on his hands. Touching a hand to Sandu’s blade, he can replay the memory in perfect detail. Can he really blame Lan Wangji for his anger? “Maybe just give him some time, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang says, a little pityingly. Time. Right. Jiang Cheng straightens and looks away. If Lan Wangji really did just leave seclusion, he’s probably still adjusting to being in society again. Maybe there will be time later, in the future when the hurts aren’t so raw. He can wait. He’ll figure something out. This is a mountain he can climb, and if he can’t, it’s not like it really matters. For the rest of the discussion conference, he doesn’t approach Lan Wangji and he tells himself he doesn’t hurt. He can wait till Lan Wangji has calmed down and can talk civilly, and if that never comes, then he will move on. He’s only doing it to honor jie’s request after all, and maybe a little for Wei Wuxian’s memory. In the end, he only waits another month. He’s knee-deep in the lake, working with the older junior class, when he sees a lanky disciple come racing toward them. Raising a hand to pause the juniors while he’s distracted, he squints and finally recognizes the disciple as Ren Yinliu, the initiate who struggled with her letters at the start. She’s grown up in the last few years, turned tall and gawky and not quite sure of her limbs. Now, she nearly trips off the end of the pier as she hurries to stop and salute him. Drawing in a deep breath, he does not laugh or sigh. She’ll get there. Eventually. Hopefully before she actually trips over her sword in a night hunt. “Jiang-zongzhu, the second young master of Gusu Lan is here to see you,” she announces. Jiang Cheng frowns, arms crossing over his chest. Lan Wangji? He racks his brain for any memory of a request or announcement from Gusu Lan that their highest ranked disciple would be visiting and comes up empty-handed. “See him to the receiving hall,” he says absently, wading out of the waters. “Third Class, join the second class in the archery range.” A chorus of bows and ‘yes zongzhu’ sing after him as he unties his skirts and winces at the cool slick of sodden fabric against his skirts. He sets off for his own chambers, Yinliu scurrying ahead of him to get back to the main gate. He changes quickly, trading his plainer teaching robes for the more formal violets and blacks suited to politics. After their last disastrous encounter, he’s not willing to give Lan Wangji any extra opportunity to feel enraged or slighted. Dressed, he draws in a deep breath and steadies himself. Lan Wangji is waiting, perfectly composed, when he arrives. He stands still and straight as a young mountain, draped in all that brittle snow-white still. “Hanguang-jun,” Jiang Cheng greets. “I wasn’t expecting you.” One of the juniors has already been sent off to get tea from the kitchens, the mild kind they keep for visits from Gusu Lan. “Jiang-zongzhu,” Lan Wangji greets stiffly, his bow precisely polite. Jiang Cheng waits a moment for some explanation, but none comes. He raises an eyebrow and resists the urge to fidget. “How can Yunmeng Jiang help you?” he asks finally. Lan Wangji’s lips thin ever so slightly, the faintest suggestion of tension. “They said you looked,” he says. “After.” Jiang Cheng blinks. Lifting his chin, Lan Wangji looks just over Jiang Cheng’s right shoulder. “For his body,” he clarifies. Oh. His stomach flips and then sinks. “Lan Wangji, there was nothing,” he says honestly. “The resentful energy — it destroyed him.” The only pieces of Wei Wuxian that had been left had been the blood spatter and bone shards Jiang Cheng combed out of his own hair. He’d thrown up until his throat burned, sobbing out bile and tears at the same time. “You were there,” Jiang Cheng tries. “You saw what it was like, in the end.” At last, Lan Wangji levels his eyes on Jiang Cheng. There is cold anger in the slant of his gaze. “I was there,” he affirms. “I saw you stab Wei Ying and kill him.” “I—” Jiang Cheng stops short. ‘I didn’t kill him’? He did. The resentment might be to blame for leaving them with no body to bury, but Jiang Cheng’s the one who killed him. “I wasn’t— He was my brother,” he protests. If anything, Lan Wangji’s expression turns colder, glacial, implacable. “Yes,” he agrees. “He was your brother. Your brother who gave you his own core, and you thanked him by killing him.” Silence hits the hall like a killing blow. Jiang Cheng stares at him, hand going slack around Sandu. His core? Wei Wuxian lost his core, he was caught by Wen Zhuliu back— “What,” he manages to grit out, “do you mean he gave me his core?” Frost crawls up his skin, turns his blood sluggish in his veins. Lan Wangji blinks at last, the slightest furrow appearing between his brows. “You didn’t know,” he says. “Lan Wangji, what the fuck are you talking about,” Jiang Cheng demands. His feet are rooted to the spot. Wei Wuxian lost his core to Wen Zhuliu. It’s not possible to give a golden core away. It’s not possible, it’s not— I know how to save you. “No,” he breathes. Lan Wangji’s lips part, the first hint of uncertainty flickering over his stupid, placid face. Anger flares up white-hot and snarling through Jiang Cheng. Of course. Of course Wei Wuxian would tell Lan Wangji, his Lan Zhan, this. Of course he would — he couldn’t trust Jiang Cheng with such an intimate secret about Jiang Cheng himself, but Lan Wangji? When had there ever been boundaries between Wei Wuxian and his beloved Hanguang-jun? He doesn’t realize he’s crossed the floor until Lan Wangji takes a step back, out of his reach. “Did he tell you? Did he fucking tell you, Lan Wangji?” he demands. “Have you been laughing at me all this while? Is that why you’ve always looked down on me? Because he told you when he couldn’t even tell me, his brother!” Lan Wangji’s lip twitches, a too-human reaction. “I never needed that to look down on you, Jiang Wanyin,” he says evenly. “Even with his core, you could never match him.” He throws the punch before he’s thought, but even in this, he falls short. Lan Wangji steps neatly to the side and Jiang Cheng stumbles with the force of his blow. “Get the fuck out,” he snarls, hands shaking. “Get the fuck out and never come back here, Lan Wangji. You hear me? You never step a foot in Lotus Pier again.” He doesn’t look at him, only sees him leave from his periphery. His whole body is trembling, a hundred thousand earthquakes shivering through his frame. Jiang Cheng, this is your only chance. Jie had told him about Song Lan, about how Baoshan Sanren had saved his sight. When he’d seen the rogue cultivator standing before them, perfectly healed, his heart had soared with elation that this would work, that Wei Wuxian had found a way to fix him. He had been so desperate to believe. It’s simple arithmetic. Jiang Cheng lost his core. Wei Wuxian promised a way to fix it. Three months later, Jiang Cheng had a golden core thrumming in his center with a strength that startled him, and Wei Wuxian stood hollowed and carved out. He can hear the laughter ringing in his ears, Wei Wuxian’s peals of amusement that Jiang Cheng couldn’t figure it out on his own. He’s an idiot. A fool. The embarrassment Mother always said he was. His steps carry him through Lotus Pier, past disciples and servants, unseeing. He stops only when he is before the sword rack in the ancestral shrine, his hands around Suibian’s wooden sheath. He’d seen the Jin disciples try to unsheathe it. He’d seen it stay stubbornly sealed. He curls his hand around the handle and tugs. The spring before they went to the Gusu lecture, he and Wei Wuxian had gone on a night hunt that went terribly wrong from their very first step. The yao turned out to be a demon, and when it lunged for Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian had pushed him out of the way and gotten his own neck caught in the demon’s claws. He’d clenched his jaw and yelled at Jiang Cheng to kill it, to not worry about him, even as he clutched at the gaping gash through his chest. At the time, Jiang Cheng had thought dying was the worst thing his brother could ever do for him. Now, holding Suibian across his palms, he knows better. “Zongzhu?” Bujue asks from the doorway. Jiang Cheng hears his footsteps first, then the hitch of his breath as he sees Jiang Cheng and Suibian’s bared blade.

“Where is Wen Qing?” he demands. “I — I think she’s in the infirmary,” Bujue says. “Zongzhu, the blade — Suibian was sealed. Does that mean—” He can’t take the rest of that sentence. Turning on his heel, Jiang Cheng shoves past Bujue and stalks out across Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian is dead. His loyal, obedient sword hasn’t unsealed itself. It was never sealed to Jiang Cheng at all. Wen Qing has her back to the door when he enters, and her eyes widen as she turns around. “Is it true?” he demands, shoving Suibian at her. “Did you tear out my brother’s golden core and give it to me?” Swallowing, she sets down the case of needles in her hand and stands straight before him. Her chin’s lifted just-so, just like Lan Wangji’s frost-edged judgment. “Yes,” she says. Her simple affirmation sends him swaying. He’s known since Lan Wangji said it, should have known years ago, but this honest confirmation takes his legs out from under him. “How could you?” he demands. “How could you do that to him? He was your friend. You — you — you lied to all of us.” Her hands are folded neatly at her waist, fingers so tight around each other her knuckles have blanched. “I tried to dissuade him,” she says. “He begged me to do it.” It would be easier if she said she forced him to do it, if she tortured him and gave him no choice. It would hurt less if Wei Wuxian hadn’t chosen this. It would be a lie. “Why?” Jiang Cheng says and hates the way his voice shakes. “Why did you do it?” She holds his gaze stubbornly, a spark lighting in their depths. When she speaks, her voice comes out unwavering. “Because you were going to die,” she says, “and no one could do it but me.” He’s not sure who moves first. He’s not sure how Sandu and Suibian wind up on the table beside them and not on the floor at their feet. He’s never kissed anyone before; when he was fourteen, a village girl pecked his cheek as a thank you for saving her from a ghost, and he’s never gotten closer than that. It’s clumsy, messy. Their teeth click, Wen Qing bites at his lip, he tugs at her hair. She hisses into his mouth and drags him closer. They stumble back until she’s pressed into the wall, his hands bracketing her head. Her hands slide across his chest, restless, and finally settle at his collars where she can tug him down to her. The tears start without him realizing, saltwater stinging his lips where her teeth have scraped over them. When they finally part, they’re both panting and tears track silver down their cheeks. Mother would be horrified. Wei Wuxian, too. He forcibly rejects both thoughts. He presses in closer, nips at the tears catching on her lips. Her hands fist in his collar, pull him at an angle where she can bruise the soft skin of his neck. There’s something searching, desperate, in every kiss and nip and tug. They wind up sitting side-by-side on the floor, both slumped and sniffing back tears. He’s always been an ugly crier, with puffy red eyes and snot all mixed up in the tears. He’s a little grateful that Wen Qing doesn’t cry with any more grace. Her hair’s all in disarray, wisps slipping out of her top knot and curling around her cheeks. He has at least two bruises high up on his throat that his collars can’t cover. “Did you love him?” he asks, toneless. It’s too late for it to matter. He can’t stop himself from asking. “Yes,” Wen Qing says, because of course. Why else would she do what she’d done? Why else would she go to him for help, for protection? “He was my closest friend since Wen Ruohan took us in. My only friend, really. And he understood — about owing and trying to protect what you had left.” Oh. Jiang Cheng swallows, but he doesn’t have the energy left to feel shame at his assumption. Wen Qing’s hands lie limp in her lap, and her head is tilted down to study them. “I’m sorry,” she says, lifting her gaze. “I don’t regret it, but even then, I knew we shouldn’t lie to you, that we should have told you.” He manages a slight hum of acknowledgment, threads it out around the knot in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say at all. They should have told him, they should never have kept it from him — would he have let them do it? if Wei Wuxian told him that the price for having his core returned was his brother’s own core? And if he hadn’t, what then? When he let himself get caught by the Wen patrol, it had seemed worth it. In his mind, he would be a small sacrifice for ensuring Wei Wuxian and jie were safe. Now, years later, he knows much of that was grief and shock. If he’d actually died, jie would have been left as heir to Yunmeng Jiang. She would have been the one forced to marshal their forces, drag together their broken sect and rebuild it from the ashes. It had been hard enough for him, and he’d been trained for this position all his life; jie had never gotten those lessons, never received any tutoring on how to manage a sect or lead an army. She would never have been able to marry Jin Zixuan. A-Ling and a-Mu would never have been born. And Wei Wuxian? Jiang Cheng remembers the last words his father said to him, remembers the horrible promise both his parents extoled from Wei Wuxian. If Jiang Cheng had died before Wei Wuxian got to him, his brother would have worn himself into dust trying to fix it, trying to atone for a sin he never committed. Closing his eyes, Jiang Cheng lets the tears fall. He can’t forgive them. He can’t say they were wrong. “I always told a-Ning that we were different from Wen Ruohan and his sons,” Wen Qing says to her hands. “That we came from healers and doctors and that made us separate from all the war and murder. And then he showed up with you three. Jiang-guniang was so sick, Wei Wuxian was terrified, and you — you didn’t even want to live.” She releases a shuddering breath that sounds halfway between a laugh and a sob. “A-Ning — a-Ning could be so stubborn,” she says, then sniffs. “He was always so quiet and shy but underneath that was oak. He brought you to me and made me look myself in the eye and reckon with my own inaction.” Lifting her hand, she brushes away a tear with the heel of her palm. “I think he would have brought you to me even if he weren’t so enamored of Wei Wuxian, even if you were complete strangers.” She lets out a small, wet laugh. “And I only hid you because of who you were.” Guilt threads through her tone, echoes back the hurt in Jiang Cheng’s own chest. He understands, he wants to say. His brother was always a better person than him, too. This world has made it so hard to protect even the people closest to them; how can they waste any energy trying to take care of everyone else? “You can’t protect everyone,” he says. She makes a quiet noise that’s not a dismissal but isn’t quite agreement either. They fall quiet. The floor’s hard under him, the wall pressing uncomfortably into his spine, but at least the rest of the infirmary is empty. He doesn’t think he can be anyone’s sect leader right now. “Does jie know?” he asks after a few minutes. “I don’t think so,” Wen Qing says. “I asked him what he’d do when you found out, and he swore you never would. Said he’d die before telling anyone and made a-Ning and I both swear to take it with us to death.” So Lan Wangji did just figure it out on his own. He’s not sure if that’s better or worse. At least Wei Wuxian didn’t tell him. At least he didn’t bare Jiang Cheng like that. Instead, Lan Wangji now knows exactly how stupid and gullible Jiang Cheng is, how pathetically desperate he was to believe his shixiong could fix everything. Working his jaw, Jiang Cheng forces himself to draw in a breath. He’s still angry, he thinks, but he’s burnt out. His whole chest feels hollow, like something reached in and scraped it clean. “I don’t know if I can forgive you or him,” he admits after a moment. “I—I don’t know. But I don’t want to lose you too.” It’s unbearably vulnerable, like peeling back a bandage to let the air scour a fresh wound. He sighs, scrubs his face with both of his hands. “I really wanted to court you properly,” he mumbles. She exhales, hands pinching together in his periphery. “I’m a war criminal,” she points out. “I don’t think that’s possible.” Drawing in a breath, he reaches over and covers her hand with his own. “You were pardoned.”

[twin-heroes]

Sweet Suprise

[ sweet surprise ]

「in which the juniors decide to surprise wei wuxian, and he was definitely surprised」

+ note: this was supposed to be up for wwx’s bday and now it’s time for jc’s bday im cryin !!! anyways, happy belated bday to our favorite necromancer. pls ignore this shitty ass summary,,,

“You— I can’t believe this! You literally ruined everything!”

“Me?! You were the one in my way!”

“Everyone, calm down...”

Why was there so much noise? Wei Wuxian took a curious peak at the door. The shouting behind it did not cease. So much commotion in the Cloud Recesses, in front of their precious Hanguang-Jun’s Jingshi of all places? These Lan Sect disciples were truly becoming more and more shameless with each passing day. Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but laugh to himself. Good! The GusuLan Sect was too stuffy anyways. A little rowdiness was necessary to keep things lively. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel curious. Fixing his robes, he quickly trotted over to open the door. He crossed his arms and wore a stern expression, pretending to scold the juniors.

“Noise is not permitted on the Cloud Recesses, you are all lucky that Hanguang-Jun isn’t here!”

The juniors all froze, and for a moment, Wei Wuxian had to pause as well. The scene in front of him was definitely...out of the ordinary.

There was Jin Ling, his face red with anger. In front of him laid a broken bowl with noodles splattered all around. Then there was Lan Jingyi, his pristine robes were tainted with bright red and orange splatters. Lastly, stood Lan Sizhui who could only wear a bitter smile, looking as though his soul left through his eyes. To say Wei Wuxian was amused would be an understatement. He smirked briefly before letting out a dramatic gasp.

“Sneaking food around? And Jingyi, what happened to your clothes? Just how many rules have you all broken today? Surely you’re not out here trying to break my record! You really are lucky that Hanguang-Jun isn’t here right now! Had he been here, you would be doing handstands and be copying all the Sect Rules by this point!” He teased. The Juniors on the other hand looked as though they had seen a ghost. Lan Jingyi was the first to speak up.

“It’s not my fault! This Young Mistress crashed into me and ruined my clothes!”

“Who are your calling ‘Young Mistress’, I’m the LanlingJin Sect’s leader now! Treat me with more respect! And I wouldn’t have bumped into you if had shut up like I told you to!” Jin Ling fumed.

“You were the one picking fights! If you’re such a sect leader, then take responsibility for dropping the bowl!”!!!!“You!—“

The two boys glared at each other, almost as if they would pull out their swords and start a duel at any moment. Wei Wuxian was about to open his mouth to say something until Lan Sizhui (luckily) beat him to it.

“Please excuse us, Senior Wei. We did not mean to disturb you.” He spoke softly with a polite bow. Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. What a good boy! So polite! Lan Sizhui continued, “The noodles...they were actually for...”

As Sizhui spoke, he noticed a single noodle hanging off of Jingyi’s robe. Curiously, he picked off the single noodle and decided to take an experimental taste.

“What are you doing?! That’s so gross!” Jin Ling gasped with disgust. The taste was actually quite good, spicy in fact, much to his own surprise.

“Wow, this is actually pretty tasty! Just the right amount of heat! I thought you kids didn’t like spicy food? Did you finally get tired of the bland food here? Or had my spicy congee inspired you to expand your tastes! Did you make this yourselves?” Wei Wuxian, grinned.

“I still have nightmares about the congee...” Lan Jingyi grimaced quietly.

“We had help!” Lan Sizhui added with a smile. “And Senior Wei, these noodles were actually for you!”

It was now Wei Wuxian’s turn to be stunned. For him? Why for him all of a sudden? The juniors all looked at him expectantly, he could only blink in confusion.“Me?- Why? What is the occasion?...” he asked curiously. This time, the boys stood in confusion. Lan Sizhui parted his lips, but Jin Ling was faster.

“I knew that you were an idiot but even you can’t possibility be this big of one.” The younger boy in yellow huffed. How rude! Wei Wuxian pouted lightly, crossing his arms once again. Lan Sizhui nudged Jin Ling as Lan Jingyi began to speak.

“Senior Wei, you couldn’t have actually forgotten, could you?” The younger Lan questioned almost sadly. Seeing the boy’s grim expression, Wei Wuxian felt his heart strings tug. What did he forget? With a slight frown, he looked at the noodles once, his eyes widened slightly. These were longevity noodles— which means that— wait, what was today’s date again?

It finally clicked. It must’ve been clear in his expression because Lan Sizhui was the first to brighten up.

“Happy Birthday, Senior Wei!”

That was it. It was his birthday wasn’t it? There was a sudden warmth creeping up in his chest, a warmth that would surely make his heart burst. Without another thought, a genuinely happy smile graced his features.

These boys— these little brats, how did they find out? Somehow, he had an inkling that a certain Hanguang-Jun had something to do with it.

“So that’s what this is about!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed with a soft laugh. Lan Jingyi seemed to cheer up too, even Jin Ling looked a little relieved. He didn’t remember the last time he really celebrated his birthday, then again, there was a lot of things he didn’t remember. “These are longevity noodles, right?” Wei Wuxian inquired as he pointed down at the noodles in the grass. Lan Jingyi nodded eagerly.

“Yes! We wanted to wish you a long and happy life but...” the younger Lan turned to sent a small scowl at Jin Ling. “Someone had to go and drop it!” Jin Ling only scowled back. “I-“ the boy started defensively before letting out a defeated sigh. “I’m...sorry...” Wei Wuxian blinked before smiling fondly. Wishing the nefarious Yiling Patriarch a long and happy life, he found it somehow ironic. He reached out to gently ruffle Jin Ling’s hair.

“Hahaha! Jin Ling, you are becoming so mature! Taking responsibly like that! I’m so proud! Though it would’ve been nice to eat those noodles...” he teased. Jin Ling was quick to swat his hand away. “You!- Don’t touch me you idiot!-“ he huffed. Lan Sizhui simply smiled.

“We can make another bowl.”

“Yeah! Jin Ling, this time you better not just stand there!”

“I wasn’t just standing there, I was just making sure that you weren’t going to mess up!”

Wei Wuxian watched as the Juniors argued before lightly waving his hand.“It’s fine, it’s fine! There’s no need to go through the trouble of making another bowl. I’m touched that you all even made one to begin with it.” It was true. Of all things, he hadn’t really expected the children to come surprise him on his birthday, especially when it slipped his own mind. It made his heart do all sorts of flips, but Lan Sizhui was adamant.

“Senior Wei, it’s no trouble at all. This is something we want to do.” The boy wore a sunny smile. “Senior Wei has done a lot for us. Protected us, took care of us— we want to do something for you too.”

Lan Jingyi chimed in right after.

“You’re not as scary as the stories make you out to be. You’re a little weird, but you’re still pretty cool too!” Wei Wuxian stood quietly, his heart filled a plethora of new emotions. He was quite used to being cursed and reviled. The Yiling Patriarch had committed all sorts of atrocities after all. He got used to it, maybe at some point he started expecting it.

Sometimes, he forgets that despite being so reviled, not everybody felt that way. Sometimes, he didn’t quite understand why.

Jin Ling stood quietly, his fist clenching and unclenching as if he wanted to say something. “You!...” he started off, his face slightly scrunched up as if it pained him to speak. “You are not particularly bad.” Wei Wuxian felt his heart clench. Jin Ling should’ve been the one to hate him the most.

“Young Man, you are not particularly bad yourself.” He teased with a shaky voice. Dammit. Was he really getting so emotional in front of the kids? Because of the kids? Since when had be become so soft?

It happened so quickly. Maybe it was the shakiness in his voice. Maybe it was the way his eyes were glistening. Lan Sizhui did something quite impulsive. Much to Wei Wuxian’s surprise, the elder Lan threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Happy Birthday, Senior Wei.”

For a moment he was shocked, and perhaps, he shouldn’t have been. This was his A-Yuan after all, right? The same A-Yuan who used to cling to his Xian Xian Gege’s leg. Lan Jingyi was next, shouting happily as he crashed into Wei Wuxian, hugging him as well.

“Happy Birthday, Senior Wei!”

His lower lip trembled. He cautiously brought his gaze to meet Jin Ling’s. The petulant boy wore a conflicted expression, one that screamed “Don’t you dare think I’m joining in”. And yet, not even a moment later, another pair of arms clung to him hesitantly. He almost missed the soft mumble coming from the boy.

“Happy Birthday.”

If Wei Wuxian wasn’t feeling emotional before, he was surely being stabbed by all sorts of emotions now. So warm, he thought to himself. He felt so warm. He wrapped his own arms around the children, hugging them close to him. He closed his eyes, memories of Shijie’s pork rib and lotus root soup filled his mind. He could practically hear Jiang Cheng whine grumpily about how unfair it was that they were celebrating their birthday’s together because the dates were so close. Madame Yu would be scolding him. “You’re getting older now! Don’t even thinking about fooling around!” was what she would say. Then there was Uncle Jiang, always looking at him with the kindest smile.

When he opened his eyes, he hadn’t even realized the few stray tears that fell down his cheeks.

“Thank you.” He whispered quietly.

He was used to being cursed. He was used to being hated. He was used to being reviled. He was alright with it. He never asked for forgiveness, because how could he? But this warm feeling— this feeling of being so loved, was precious. These children were precious. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this sort of feeling.

The Juniors let got moments later, each wearing a fond smile. He couldn’t help but smile back fondly. Shameless children, he wanted to say. Instead, Wei Wuxian crouched to the ground, looking at the mess of noodles.

“Ah! Hopefully all these noodles are still intact. You all do know what happens if a longevity noodle is cut, right?” He smiled slyly, his voice full of mischief. The boys stood quietly, unsure of what he meant until Lan Jingyi shouted in panic.

“If they get cut, your life span will shorten!” Wei Wuxian whistled before grinning. “Congratulations! You are correct!” Jin Ling suddenly paled.

“T-That’s just a superstition right? It c-can’t actually happen, right?” The flustered boy stuttered. Wei Wuxian simply shrugged, finding it way too fun to tease the boys. Of course, Lan Sizhui had a solution.

“Then we will surely make another bowl, this one won’t count!”

“Let’s make another bowl then! Jin Ling, you better help out!”

“I was helping out before! And you- change your clothes first!”

“Let’s go, let’s go!”

Wei Wuxian watched as the boys ran off, Lan Sizhui turned to look back at him once more with a gentle smile.

“Please wait for us, Senior Wei, we’ll be back soon.”Wei Wuxian smiled back.“I’ll be right here.”

“Lan Zhan, were you the one you told the children it was my birthday?” Wei Wuxian inquired his husband later that afternoon. Lan Wangji had arrived back into their Jingshi not too long ago and Wei Wuxian was buzzing with curiosity. The taller man looked at him, his beautiful face was seemingly expressionless.

“En.”

Wei Wuxian jutted out his lower lip. He lazily approached his husband, his arms languidly draping around Lan Wangji’s neck.

“Why bother? It’s not that important of a thing.” He felt a pair of strong arms circle around his waist. Someone else might think that Lan Wangji was wearing a cold and uncaring expression, but Wei Wuxian could see the softness and the sincerity in his light colored eyes. Even now, it still made his heart skip a couple beats.

“It is important.” Lan Wangji stated as if it were a fact. Wei Wuxian tilted his head, waiting for Lan Wangji to explain. “It is important because you were born,” Lan Wangji assured with a small smile. Lan Wangji didn’t smile often, but when he did, Wei Wuxian swore the world stopped just for one moment. His heart melted each time.

“Lan Zhan! How can you say something so cheesy? You’re making my heart beat so fast! You must take responsibility for this!” Wei Wuxian whined playfully. Lan Wangji nodded.

“Will do, tonight.”

“Huh?-“ Wei Wuxian almost choked. “Lan Zhan, how can you be so shameless?!”

Without a response, Lan Wangji hugged him close. Wei Wuxian buried his face into his shoulder. The world cursed the day the Yiling Patriarch was born but this beautiful person in front of him was thankful for it. His heart was really going to burst.

“The Juniors made me a bowl of noodles to surprise me, you know? I was so shocked. Did you perhaps tell them to?” Wei Wuxian asked, his fingers playing with Lan Wangji’s inky, long hair. There was a moment of silence.

“I only told them the date of your birth. Whatever they did after was out of their own will.”  

He smiled softly into Lan Wangji’s shoulders, feel the warmness wash over him once again. In the end, the Juniors came back with another bowl of noodles, Wei Wuxian happily gobbled it up with the three boys as company. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but knowing that the kids had made it with such sweet intentions somehow made it taste like the best bowl of noodles he ever had.

“They are good kids.”

“They like you very much.”

Wei Wuxian pulled away to look at Lan Wangji, the man seemed to be wearing a somewhat satisfied expression.

“Say, Lan Zhan...” Wei Wuxian began, “Where have you been all morning? You didn’t tell me earlier!” Lan Wangji let go of his wrist and began to fish out something from his sleeves. He pulled out a few pouches. Inside, they were full with all sorts of sweets and candies. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened.

“You snuck in sweets into the Cloud Recesses? How bold of you, Second Master Lan! Aren’t they prohibited unless it’s a special occasion?” Lan Wangji nodded.

“Today is a special occasion.” Once again, Wei Wuxian felt is heart melt completely. He really, really loved Lan Wangji. Really loved him. Loved him so, so much.

Lan Wangji handed him a pouch, but Wei Wuxian grabbed his wrist instead, pulling him for a gentle kiss. His expression was bright. “You and the kids— breaking the rules for me! I’ve become such a bad influence on you all!” Wei Wuxian laughed.

“If it’s for you, it’s okay.” Lan Wangji smiled softly, gently placing a hand against his cheek. Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched. So sincere. This time, he couldn’t hold himself back. Wei Wuxian hugged Lan Wangji’s neck and peppered sweet little kisses all over his face.

“You make me so happy.” He whispered quietly against Lan Wangji’s skin. The other’s arms were back around his waist. They stood together like this for a few moments, enjoying each other’s warmth and embrace. Wei Wuxian was first to break the silence.

“Lan Zhan, can we go to Caiyi Town today?”

“En.”

“Just the two of us?”

“En.”

“Will you drink with me?”

“...”

Lan Wangji’s expression seemed a little conflicted. Wei Wuxian bursted out laughing.

“Lan Zhan! You’re too cute! You don’t have to drink with me if you don’t want to!”

“I will.”

“Eh?”Their eyes locked and Lan Wangji spoke again.

“I will drink with you.”

Wei Wuxian blinked before grinning. He brought up his hand to lightly pinch Lan Wangji’s cheek. “Lan Zhan, I love you so much.” He felt a pair of lips against his forehead.

“Love you too.” Again, the two of them were enveloped into a comfortable silence.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian looked up at Lan Wangji. “Yeah?”

“Happy Birthday.”

It really was. 

[valflame]

Ahh I hope it's okay to pop in and ask this? But I've never played the game, and I was wondering if there was ever a point where Arvis realized that even though he had good intentions his actions were terrible and cruel? Did he know all along? Or was he completely blind sided by his beliefs and never saw that he had become a monster?

Of course it is!! You never have to worry about that sort of stuff, questions are always alright smh

This got Super Hecking Long so the rest is under the cut, but the TL;DR of it is: he does!!

Since you haven’t played the game I’ll say now that for context Arvis didn’t necessarily want to even do anything that he did at first. He was approached by Manfroy, a priest of the Loptyrian religion, and forced to comply with his demands on account of Manfroy threatening to out him as having Minor Loptyr blood to the world. For the record Loptyrians by religion have at this point in the game’s timeline been driven into hiding and live for the most part either underground in the inhospitable Yied Desert or, if they’re of the more peaceful Mairist sect of the religion, the Spirit Forest in the country of Verdane. Either way, they aren’t allowed out. Having Loptyr blood is different; the blood existing in a living person at all means that there’s a chance for Loptyr to possess them or their offspring if they pass it along, so throughout the continent of Jugdral there’s an ongoing witch hunt for them. The game points out that these witch hunts have never actually caught a genuinely Loptyr-blooded person — the mere accusation is enough to get people killed for it, and that’s usually all the proof that the people need. Considering how it’s only Maira and his descendants that could possibly have the blood and how one of the many laws of the Spirit Forest where Maira and all his descendants and followers were exiled to to control the spread of the blood was ‘you can only have one child’, the only living people with Loptyr blood in their systems in the world at the start of the game are Arvis and Deirdre, the son and daughter of Cigyun of the Spirit Forest, who broke both the ‘you can’t leave the forest ever’ rule and the ‘Loptyr-blooded folks can only have one child’ rule. They didn’t know each other existed, so Arvis, thinking he was the last one, was terrorised into working with Manfroy in the latter’s ploy to seize power in the country of Grannvale and tried justifying it to himself by going ‘I’ll use the position for the good of the people’. Here’s a conversation between the two of them from Chapter 5:

Manfroy:“Hmhmhm… Lord Arvis, I see things are proceeding smoothly.”

Arvis:“Manfroy? How many times have I told you not to show yourself around here!? All members of your Lopt Sect must stay completely hidden until I’ve taken power!”

Manfroy:“Yes. You’re too weak to admit our presence, and you let that greedy Reptor and Langobalt run all over you! The original plan was to dispose of those two once they proved useless and work through their sons instead!”

Arvis:“Hmph… Manfroy, I’ll say this once and only once, so listen good. I haven’t the slightest intention of rebuilding your Lopt Empire. I have no problem with your Lopt Sect existing, but I’m not leaving the world in the hands of the Dark Lord. You follow!? I don’t care if I have the Lopt Clan’s blood in me. I have Saint Maira’s blood, and he fought for the good of the people. The Fire God Fala is also one of my ancestors. I will use my power to create a world which is free of prejudice. One where all peoples can live without fear of repression! Of course, Sigurd knows way too much. Consider him a sacrifice to the greater good.”

His main problem is that, blackmailed or not, he went ahead and killed innocent people and lied left and right to get ahead. He’d use the heck out of the other dukes and lords of the land pretending to be on their side and promoted infighting between them only to swoop in at the last minute when they were at their weakest, executed them and then seized the land and the power for himself. The biggest and most glaring red flag in him doing Absolutely Reprehensible Things is in Chapter 5, where the most infamous part of the game takes place where, among other things, he dupes and kills not only the main player character but their entire party, for the most part.

There’s a lot I can say about the specifics of what happened there and what happened elsewhere, but WINDING THINGS DOWN HERE by the end of the game years and years later you see him again as a middle aged man. Manfroy’s won out and Arvis’ peaceful empire he worked so hard for is run into the ground, his family is either dead, missing or possessed by Loptyr, he’s got nearly no actual power even though he’s the Emperor and he’s just acting as a puppet while his antichrist son runs things and he’s finally gotten it through is head that HEY, IT’S HIS ACTIONS THAT LED HIM HERE, IT’S ALL BECAUSE OF HIM THAT THINGS ARE SO HECKED UP. He devotes the last of his days to trying to subvert power from his son and fight back against Manfroy and Julius in whatever little ways he can, mostly by getting in the way of the Child Hunts, a practice involving Hunger Games-esque tournies where children are rounded up from all across the country to fight each other to the death where the victors are taken to serve the Lopt Empire. It was a practice that he was openly vehemently against; he kidnaps the children back and releases them. Have some more conversations from the second gen:

Arvis“Bishop Palmark, take the children and get out of here.”

Palmark:“Pardon me? You mean you’re setting them free!?”

Arvis“That’s right. Julius’ people will be here soon from Belhalla. You must leave immediately!”

Palmark“Y-Yes, Your Majesty! You have my sincerest blessings.”

Arvis“I also want you to hold onto this.”

Palmark“B-But, isn’t this the…”

Arvis“You once served under Sigurd, correct? … I think you know what to do with it.”

Palmark:“Yes, Your Majesty. I believe I do.”

Arvis“Then get going… And keep those children safe!”

Julia“Father…”

Arvis“Julia, I’ve been awful to you. You must hate me by now. Can you ever forgive me?”

Julia“Father! I’ve never felt that way about you! I’ve always thought of you as a kind man.”

Arvis“No… I’ve been such a fool. Manfroy’s been using me all along. But by the time I realised what was going on, it was too late. Julius is the reincarnation of the Dark Lord Loptyr. He murdered my beloved Deirdre and had the same fate in store for you…”

Julia“Yes. Mother used her last drop of energy to warp me away from Julius. I must have lost my memories over the shock of it all. I’m glad Levin found me. But I still just break down and cry when I think about what Julius did to mother…”

Arvis“Julia, I could talk to you for hours, but you can’t stay here. It’s far too dangerous. I want you to escape with Bishop Palmark.”

Manfroy“That’s not likely to happen. Julia will be accompanying me back to Velthomer. If Your Majesty has a problem following Prince Julius’ orders, she’ll be put to death.”

Arvis“You’ll what!? Just who the hell do you think you’re talking to!?”

Manfroy“Heh heh heh… It’s high time you realise the order of things. You’re no long anything but a mere servant to Prince Julius. If you wish to avoid any further anguish, you’ll succumb to His Highness’ every wish. I’ll also see to it that the children you released are all dead by sundown. Mwahahaa!”

Julia“Father!!”

Arvis“Julia, I’m powerless against these people. Take this circlet… It belonged to your mother. It’s your only hope for protec-”

So he tries doing good in the end, but it’s a case of too little too late when you remember that EVERYTHING GOT AS BAD AS IT DID BECAUSE OF HIS ACTIONS AND WHAT HE DID TO BEGIN WITH. His rule was good at first and he fulfilled his promise to produce an empire free of oppression for about ten years but in the end Manfroy was just too clever and swept the rug out from under him, and everyone in the continent paid for it. In the very end he sort of plots his own death by giving the Tyrfing, the holy weapon of house Chalphy and the Baldur bloodline and, most importantly, a major mage killer, to Palmark to give to Seliph, Sigurd’s son who’s out for revenge from his father’s murderer and the leader of the Liberation Army.