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gusu-emilu · 4 years ago

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and you can use my skin to bury secrets in

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Qing

Summary: Jiang Cheng ties himself with Zidian. Wen Qing has some prideful (if conflicted) thoughts about the core transfer.

Rated M, Sunshot Campaign, Bondage, Referenced Canon-Typical Violence, WQ has needles but nothing really happens with them

read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

As Wen Qing slowly unties the layers of fabric, she wonders if Jiang Wanyin's robes are from before the burning of Lotus Pier, or if they are a new acquisition. A new asset for the rising Jiang Clan.

'Rising.' She almost laughs at that thought.

This man, trembling and frightened, is Wen Qing’s greatest act of treason.

The night is quiet. Dense. Wen Qing could disappear into the forest if she wanted to. Should disappear, should flee this supervisory office that is now littered with corpses and corrupted talismans.

She doesn’t know why she is back in front of the gate of the Yiling settlement, where anyone could easily spot her as the only body that isn’t mutilated on the ground. She tells herself it’s to inspect the carnage, to determine if her clansmen really were each killed in a different way, but she doesn’t look at the bodies as she walks down the path to empty buildings. Doesn’t look at anything, really. Her sight is all dizzy moonlight and visions of A-Ning.

He could be anywhere by now. Officers from Qishan seized him from the dungeon a day after Wen Qing was thrown in next to him. He had still been bloody, bruised, delirious when they took him away.

Wen Ruohan plays his hand well. He allowed her enough time with A-Ning to see the price for saving the Jiang siblings from Lotus Pier, and no more. Now their empire is falling, A-Ning will be caught in the crossfire, and she doesn’t even know where he is.

The door of the main office creaks as she pushes it open. The floorboards creak, too, under her feet, unless that’s just the sound of her joints fighting with each other as she wanders toward a place she should not be returning to.

Her hand slips inside her robes and closes around a small hard object in a velvety cloth. It is made of wood. Rich hornbeam wood. It should feel heavier than the paper-light weight of an empty promise.

I can hide you in our shelter outside Yiling, he had said, outside the dungeon where Wen Qing is now standing. Just for the night. I can keep you safe. In the morning, the spies will have news of where your brother is, and then you can go.

So simple it all was for him. Come with him to Lotus Pier, come with him to the shelter, keep this gift in her robes, leave her clan. Words of a man who knew their uselessness, yet still said them.

The words give her no comfort. And yet, they settle inside her with a faint warmth.

Unfortunately, warmth is worth very little in war.

She is inside the dungeon now. Somehow she remembered it being darker than this. There is enough moonlight creeping through the slits of the slightly-opened shudders to reveal the room’s sharp angles and cold corners, a drab wooden table and stool, a flat hard bed. A room of brittleness not even softened by the layer of dried grasses littered across the floor.

She must stand there for a while, because she doesn’t know what happens in the moments between when she lays eyes on the spot where she had found A-Ning curled up and bloodied, and when she hears, “Wen-guniang,” in a low, resonant voice behind her.

Immediately everything becomes crisper. She can see the individual strands of hay on the stone floor, smell the dull musk of the dungeon, hear footsteps come one bit closer.

She turns around.

Jiang Wanyin is standing just inside the dungeon. His arms are at his sides, slightly bent and tenser than should be comfortable, and his fists are not much better—one tightly clutching a sword and one hanging hesitantly under a thin silver snake around his wrist. His shoulders are broad, his chest raised like he’d deflate if his upper body didn’t displace enough air.

Indeed, now he wears the robes of a clan leader, and fills them. But his face still has that same naïve mixture of distress and wonder as when Wen Qing healed a gash in his leg on a boat in Caiyi Town.

“Wen-guniang.” His lips are soft and slightly parted, offensive in how they call after her with concern. “Why did you come back here?”

She has no obligation to answer him, so she doesn’t. She turns back to the dungeon to stare at the spot on the floor where she once held A-Ning.

Quiet footsteps. Jiang Wanyin is right behind her now. She can’t feel his breath, but she can hear its pattern clearly enough that it might as well be touching her. “Come back to the shelter with me,” he says.

“A-Ning would be safer in this dungeon than wherever he is now.” Her voice sounds far away.

Jiang Wanyin is quiet for a while. Then his feet shift, and she catches the sound of another of his too-swollen breaths. “Wen-guniang. Come back with me. You’ll be safer in the camp.”

A scoff rises up her throat. She walks over to the vacant spot on the floor and sits down on the sparse blanket of hay, hugging her knees into her chest with her back against the cold wall. She’s not sure why she is letting Jiang Wanyin watch her do this, but it doesn’t especially matter. She has seen Jiang Wanyin more vulnerable than he will ever see her.

Without needing to look, she can tell that Jiang Wanyin’s brow is furrowed, and his eyes are glistening with worry so abrasively genuine it would grate on her like scales if she let it.

She has felt the gaze of men before. A filthy, unwanted thing it is, like scooping up clear water in her hands only to find mud stuck under her fingernails.

Yet Jiang Wanyin’s gaze is something completely other. When she cups it, it settles in the lines of her palms. It wets her fingertips, waiting for her to seal another wound in his skin. Or perhaps cut a new one.

But she knows what Jiang Wanyin’s limit is. His care for her does not extend to A-Ning or the rest of her family—and with the war, what can she expect?

She does not want his concern. What she really wants is to sit here alone and cry.

It could be easily arranged. One flick of her wrist, a needle in the side of Jiang Wanyin’s neck, and she could cry in peace as he crumples to the floor and sleeps. There are kinder ways to make him leave her alone, but this one is the fastest, so she’s on her feet with a needle between two of her fingers.

She doesn’t throw it.

Instead she strides toward Jiang Wanyin with the needle held up for him to see. Once she is close enough, he catches her wrist.

His eyes are wide. “W-Wen-guniang—”

She pulls away and slips the needle back into her sleeve, leaving his hand hanging. The silver chain of Zidian waves back and forth beneath his wrist.

Neither of them moves.

She supposes she’s testing him as she raises the needle once again. It turns, slowly, like a compass pointing toward his cheek. Every part of his body freezes except for his eyes warily following the sharp tip as it draws closer to his face, until it rests on his cheekbone.

His breath is louder now. Unstable.

A bang hangs just over his cheek, so she presses the length of the metal against his hair and trails the tip along the side of his face, barely grazing his skin, until she has carefully tucked the bang behind his ear.

He swallows. His Adam’s apple looks like it wants to escape his throat.

There is no bang on the other side of his face, so she just touches the needle to the top of his ear and traces along its rim, slow and light enough to torment. When the tip is halfway down his ear, his teeth chatter.

He sucks in a breath and finally meets her eyes. From the eager terror swallowing his expression and the way he’s working to keep his mouth closed, his state of mind is obvious.

Jiang Wanyin would do anything she asked.

How nice it would be, to have control over something. Wen Qing has long known the authority that comes with her position—the orders and paperwork, the entire Qishan medical inventory, the health of Wen Ruohan, the safety of her family—and she has control over exactly none of it.

Her position is all false security when A-Ning is dangled over her head.

But Jiang Wanyin…

He would do anything she asked.

Anything except leave her to cry alone in this dungeon, or save her family.

But that might be enough for now. Too much has been asked of both of them since the Sunshot Campaign began.

One hand still at his ear, she hides the needle in her robes with a flick of two fingers. She strokes the side of her thumb along his cheek. It sends a rush through her.

“Why did you follow me here, Jiang Wanyin?”

“I—you could have been—”

She traces a finger along his jawline, his bone much sturdier than he is before her. “Has it not occurred to you that I can take care of myself?”

His only answer is a pink flush spreading across his cheeks. Wen Qing has seen him in many states of turmoil—his shy glances in the Cloud Recesses, his outburst in Yiling at the sight of her Wen robes, his utter emptiness as he lay in mountain grass waiting for “Baoshan Sanren”—but this is a type of turmoil she has never quite seen.

“Kneel.”

A staggered gasp escapes Jiang Wanyin’s lips.

He blinks at her a few times, then drops to his knees.

* * *

Every one of his muscles is shaking. His breath is caught in his throat—or maybe he has forgotten how to breathe—and he wonders if he might suffocate like this, quivering on his knees and waiting for Wen Qing to move.

He ducks his head, trying to hide the burning in his face, but he knows she can see every inch of him. That makes him burn hotter. He wonders if she can hear his heartbeat, how it fights against his inability to just get some damn oxygen inside himself.

He is a clan leader. She is an enemy. He should be on his feet, not kneeling at hers.

As if Wen Qing can sense this, she takes a step closer and says, “Jiang-zongzhu.”

He thinks he makes a noise. Maybe a grunt. Maybe a squeak. He’d rather not know what it is.

He has responsibilities, Wei Wuxian is still missing, his people are injured—

But it all fades away, lost in the dimness of the room.

He does not feel like a clan leader now.

He realizes that Wen Qing is making some kind of gesture, and with effort he lifts his gaze enough to see her holding the comb in front of herself, casually displaying the gift he gave her as though it is just a doctor’s tool she happens to have.

Surely she must know what that comb means. She must know how much courage it had taken to buy it, how much more it had taken to give it to her, and it stings for her to wave it so easily before him.

She lowers the comb and disappears behind him. Her footsteps are soft and chilling on the stone floor, and they stop closer to him than he expected. The silence that follows is agonizing. He curls his fingers into his robes at his sides, the shuffle of fabric just audible enough to fill the stifling emptiness.

Light pressure at the top of his head. Feathery. Phantomlike.

This should not be enough to break him already—it isn’t, he isn’t—but he shivers and grips his robes tighter.

Thin fingers gently tug at his hair, removing his hairpiece with such precision that even as Jiang Cheng’s mind falls apart into alternating screams of make it stop make it stop and touch me more touch me more, he can sense how methodically her fingers work through his hair.

Once the metal hairpiece is out, he is left plain, unornamented.

He is certainly not a clan leader now.

* * *

The silver hairpiece gleams in her hands. The moonlight seems to be drawn to it, as if it knows that this is the only valuable object in this dungeon. The only thing that isn’t worn and beaten. The blue glow from the window does not even shine on Wen Qing or Jiang Wanyin as much as it illuminates this piece of embellished silver.

She drops it to the floor.

Jiang Wanyin’s shoulders draw up at the harsh clang of metal on stone.

For a brief moment, she considers removing her own hairpiece as well. But instead she runs the comb through Jiang Wanyin’s hair, draws his locks into a bun like raising a curtain. Then she decides she likes his hair better down and takes the bun out. Jiang Wanyin winces at the light tug.

She repeats that several more times, running the comb and her fingers through his soft hair, tying it up and taking it down, sometimes pausing to study the creation she has made, sometimes pulling it apart right away.

It’s comforting, to do and undo him as she pleases. She has felt many bodies under her hands, zipping and unzipping them with finality, leaving a permanent imprint whether the result was successful or not. It’s nice to be able to alter the work of her hands however many times she wants. To have someone so obliging, who lets her be impatient and indecisive with no consequences, who melts a little more with every stroke of her fingers in his hair.

Jiang Wanyin, too, she has remade. It is only right for her to tweak him a bit more until she is satisfied.

Especially since, if the rumors are true, her remaking of Jiang Wanyin has left Wei Wuxian coreless in the Burial Mounds, another corpse thrown onto the heap of resentment.

She tugs the bun out more sharply this time. Jiang Wanyin makes a feeble, pained noise.

In the end, she finishes with the bun tied. When she circles back in front of him, it is clear that it was a good decision, as the sharp lines of his face are both more boyish and more mature with his hair drawn back.

He glances up at her.

A bright streak of violet binds his wrists and wraps around a beam on the ceiling. His arms shoot over his head, his hands tied.

Judging by the look of horror on Jiang Wanyin’s face, he is just as surprised as she is.

* * *

“Is this something it does often?”

Jiang Cheng can’t bear to look at Wen Qing, but he can clearly see the smirk on her face just from the amusement in her voice.

This is, in fact, not something that happens.

Zidian has never acted without him telling her to.

He struggles against the whip cords enough to realize that they are so tight around his wrists that he can barely rock his shoulders.

His face is on fire.

Did he…did he tell Zidian to do this?

“No need to hurry,” Wen Qing says, her voice slick, teasing. “Release yourself for now.”

“I—I—” He stops himself, because he doesn’t know which would be more embarrassing, to admit that he had no control over his own weapon, or to say that he tied himself up with it on purpose. He retracts Zidian with a crack, and his hands fall limp at his sides.

“First,” Wen Qing says slowly, “ask me to remove your robes.”

Jiang Cheng jerks his head up, and immediately he knows it was a mistake to look. He almost shatters under the hawklike sharpness of Wen Qing’s gaze, the steady attentiveness of eyes trained to notice every detail of the body.

He forces his limbs to function enough for him to begin to stand. He immediately regrets that, too, because the best he can manage is to stagger weakly to his feet.

Once he straightens himself up, he is much taller than Wen Qing. Much broader. Funny that even as he towers over her, he feels tiny.

He stands there for a while, trying to will the heat out of his face and slow his breathing.

Ask me to remove your robes, his mind repeats.

Some traitorous part of him claws up his throat, ready to beg for Wen Qing to take off his robes, to take off everything, take off his clan and his name and his body until he is nothing more than a heartbeat in her hands.

Instead, he straightens his spine and sets his jaw.

The corners of Wen Qing’s mouth twitch. She reaches up and strokes Jiang Cheng’s upper lip with the tip of her finger. “Can’t speak?”

His lips quiver. They part slightly, and her finger enters his mouth just the smallest amount.

He pulls away and scowls. “I can speak just fine,” he says, ignoring how much his voice cracks.

“Prove it.”

He does not prove it.

But he does hold his arms out at his sides for Wen Qing to remove his robes, closing his eyes as he waits, as if sealing his vision would stop his dignity from rushing out of him like a river.

* * *

As Wen Qing slowly unties and slides away the layers of fabric, she wonders if these robes are from before the burning of Lotus Pier, or if they are a new acquisition. A new asset for the rising Jiang Clan.

Rising. She almost laughs at that thought.

This man, trembling and frightened, hot skin exposed more each second, is Wen Qing’s greatest act of treason.

By opening and sealing Jiang Wanyin’s meridians on that mountain and hiding that pulse of gold inside him, she has enabled revenge to fall upon Qishan much faster than it would have come on its own.

The Wen Clan struck down the Jiang, only for Wen Qing to recreate its power.

It’s too bad Wen Ruohan will ever know. At last, something she would not object to being thrown in a dungeon and beaten for, a crime she has full ownership of, and it is a secret that will soon die with her and A-Ning and has probably died already with Wei Wuxian.

She blocks out the pain of that thought.

Jiang Wanyin’s robes fall to the floor.

He gasps, and his gaze darts around for a few moments. Then he slowly looks up, as if expecting something he is too afraid to ask for.

“You may tie yourself now,” Wen Qing says.

Jiang Wanyin averts his gaze, hesitating. Then he kneels, and bright violet cords appear around his wrists and lock over the beam on the ceiling once more. He hangs forward with his arms over his head.

This is much better. Jiang Wanyin had been fully clothed during the core transfer, as the operation was purely one of spiritual energy. Now Wen Qing can see the taut muscles under which her treachery lives.

She smiles.

* * *

Coolness rushes through Jiang Cheng’s body. He feels a strange sense of release, as if something heavy inside him has slithered out through his fingertips into the binds of Zidian and left him weightless.

But Wen Qing’s scrutinizing gaze is even more unbearable than before, now that it is upon his bare skin. He fights the urge to squirm, to hide, to rip away Zidian’s restraints and run out the door. At least Wen Qing had the mercy to leave his trousers on.

A growing urge swells in him, and he wants to hear her voice. To feel her hands on him.

Touch me.

Want me.

He musters the courage to meet Wen Qing’s eyes again, and she is smirking. He thinks his entire body shrinks to half its size.

“Are you waiting for me to say something?” she asks.

He bites his lip.

“I have seen many men, Jiang Wanyin.” She paces in a circle around him, each of her footsteps calculated, reverberating through the floorboards and into his nerves, giving him goosebumps. “Are you waiting for me to call you remarkable? To marvel at you?”

She kneels in front of him. She smells like smoke and ash.

Jiang Cheng wants to lean forward, tangle his face in her hair and bury his lips in her neck and rest with his head on her shoulder, but the biting restraint of Zidian holds him back. Perhaps it is better that way. He can do nothing wrong, can make no mistakes, when he is powerless like this.

Security courses through him, sweet and hot.

Wen Qing places her hands on his shoulders. He can’t stop the moan from escaping.

She rubs his arms, which have stopped straining against Zidian and now relax even more as she squeezes and massages his muscles, runs her hands down to his collarbone and digs her thumbs into the sides of his neck. He shudders as one hand slides down his chest and presses into his lower abdomen. With the other hand, she grabs his chin and gently draws it forward.

Jiang Cheng lost control of his breath long ago. Tension he did not even know he held onto is disappearing from his body, pried away by Wen Qing’s hands.

He wants to curl up and crawl away.

He wants more.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” Wen Qing says, her expression intense, unreadable. “I will tell you one thing.”

She presses firmer on his abdomen, above his navel, as if digging inside him.

“You will be a powerful clan leader.”

Heat blazes over Jiang Cheng’s face, to the tips of his ears, down his neck. He closes his eyes, fights the primal urge to flee and hide.

“Don’t make any mistakes."

He shakes his head. “I—I w-won’t…”

“Good.” Her hand lifts from his abdomen and finds its way to his jaw. She cups both sides of his face, her hands steady and slightly calloused.

“I won’t harm your people,” Jiang Cheng murmurs. “I’ll—I’ll protect you.”

Wen Qing sighs. Rubs a thumb over his cheek. Then again, closer to his lips.

Somehow, he dares to open his eyes. “Would—would you—please—”

She tilts her head.

He swallows. Zidian sparks around his wrists, as if she is just as eager. Selfish little thing.

Wen Qing seems to consider it for a few moments. “Close your eyes.”

He does not want to. He wants to see her lean in, see her eyelashes lower—

Wen Qing raises two fingers to each of his eyes and closes them.

“If we are lucky,” she says quietly, “we will never meet again.”

She silences him with her lips before he can reply.

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you liked this fic, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by visiting me on AO3!

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 03

(Masterpost)(Previous Episode)

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

Wei Wuxian demonstrates the purple nurple technique of the Jiang Clan

Should’ve Used Trivago

The Jiang Clan’s reservation got cancelled while they were on the road, so they are going to wander around this small inn for hours being fussed about it, rather than trying another inn. Yes they say the other inns are all full but…so is this one, now.

The Jin Clan sends an advance party to fancy up the inn for them.

Fuckboi Wei Wuxian

Wei Wuxian decides to use his considerable powers of prettiness to get them a room. He drops some poetry on Mianmian and brazenly flirts with her before shifting to properly introducing himself and asking for a room.

This actually works.

...until her boss shows up.

(Much much more after the cut!)

Worst Person // Best Jin

Jin ZIxuan is an ass and a snob.

I guess we have to give him credit for having a beautiful sidekick and never hitting on her, given that his dad is a rapist and one of his half-brothers is (reputedly) a sex pest and the other half brother is (definitely) an incest perp. But I feel like it doesn’t take much to be the best Jin of his or his father’s generation.

The Jin folks are snobs and talk about how great their fancy and expensive stuff is. It’s an interesting contrast with true connoisseur Nie Huaisang, who loves everything that is fine and beautiful and can quote stacks of poetry off the top of his head, but is not even a little bit of a snob.

This Tea Smells Like Farts

Ok, let’s talk about generation names in the Jin clan. Ru is the name for Jin Ling’s generation, hence his courtesy name Rulan. The name for the current generation is apparently Zi (子), because both Zixuan and his jerk cousin Zixun have that as their name. Sect Leader Jin Guangshan would seem to be using the generation name Guang, but then names his son Jin Guangyao so…the whole system breaks down.

Anyway, my point here is that even considering generation names, if I had a baby and named it Zixuan, and my sister-in-law promptly had a baby and named it Zixun, I would slap her.

Find you a lover who does not make you feel like this

Jin Zixuan is mildly intrigued by his betrothed, and expresses it by being rude to her in front of Wei Wuxian, starting a chain of events that will culminate with Wen Ning’s fist going all the way through Jin Zixuan’s chest.

Side Note: Look at these young Jiang Brothers and their casual shoulder hugs. Sigh.

Wei Wuxian’s Combat PlayBook

When Wei Wuxian wants to throw down, he starts with smack talk, moves along to boundary crossing, then to direct threats, and then brings out a weapon if he hasn’t won already.

Here he starts shit with Jin Zixuan by complaining at him for taking up too much space and having too many sycophants. Then he goes for the unwelcome shoulder touch.

Having been sufficiently provocative to get someone to draw a sword and threaten him with physical violence, he shifts to formal verbal sparring.

This gets the other guy to back down, because even at this age no-one actually wants to tangle with Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian gets to claim the moral advantage, although he still doesn’t get to keep his hotel room.

Actually Not A Fan of My Sister’s Betrothal

Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli have the first of many, many moments of heterosexual ineptitude together. Wei Wuxian quickly rescues them.

Hi, I’m Young Master Cockblock.

Neither of the boys understands what Yanli sees in Zixuan and neither do I, at this juncture. He does improve later after multiple beatings from Wei Wuxian.

This Is The Day Your Life Will Surely Change

Yanli’s encounter in the Inn is the first step toward the inexorable end of the three of them as a unit, although it’s still a long ways off. They are all growing up and she and Wei Wuxian are both going to fall in love at summer camp, like in a 1980s teen movie but without the virginity betting (presumably).

Meanwhile poor Jiang Cheng is going to be swept along just trying to keep up with events, which becomes the story of his life for the next two decades.

Welcome to Transylvania

We meet Wen Ruohan. He is boring and he sucks. Also I’m summarizing the Transylvania parts out of order because they break up the rhythm of the story. And are boring and suck.

We meet Xue Yang. He seems nice.

Wen Ruohan’s living room is like a shitty nightclub where everyone is too drunk to dance except Xue Yang.

Dee Jay: Undead undead undead, Bela Lugosi’s dead

[OP can’t get a video to embed in this post with looping enabled, so the alternate version of this joke has its own post right here. That will teach OP to get fancy.]

Anyhoo

We meet Wen Qing. She is the bestest most wonderful girl in the world but this isn’t actually when we find that out.

Right now we just find out that she is absurdly pretty, that she loves her brother deeply, and that she is helping Wen Ruohan with his “take over the world by murdering cultivators” project. OKAY, PROBLEMATIC, BUT SHE IS THE BESTEST GIRL OKAY?

Gatekeeping

The Jiang Clan don’t get another inn but they do manage to change into immaculate white robes while they’re out on the street, so - nice work, Jiang Clan. Be free!

They get stuck outside the gate because they don’t know that the secret to getting into Cloud Recesses is to set the gate guard on fire.

Walking Thirst Trap Hanguang-Jun

Lan Wangji shows up and everyone except Yanli, who is already in love with Sir Golden Pants, makes thirst faces at him. Including Jiang Cheng tho he will never admit it. One girl in the background is actually biting her knuckle.

Note: Lan Wangji knows exactly how fine he is. Look at his fucking hairstyle.

He is sixteen years old. The only person in the entire cultivation world with fancier hair is Nie Mingjue, and that’s because he indulges his dìdi’s braiding hobby.

Wei Wuxian loudly stage whispers that LWJ is their key to getting in and LWJ is is like, not fucking likely, person I didn’t glance at yet.

But then Wei Wuxian says a smart cultivator thing about the puppet dude, and Lan Wangji turns around and has the first of many long mutual staring sessions with this boy he totally isn’t going to like at all.

Jiang Cheng has a bad feeling about the future: a 2-frame gif

Unrelated gardening note: the red-crack puppet is more commonly grown in Gusu and Dafan, while the black-line puppet is native to Yiling

I Must Arrange a Date with this Uninteresting Boy

The rest of the evening is a series of tests that Lan Wangji puts Wei Wuxian through. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know this and Lan Wangji probably doesn’t exactly know it either.

First he sends WWX back to town to get the invitation. Yes, go get it. Not your entourage; YOU, talky person who thinks he can manipulate me and is smart and looks...intriguing. Go find it and come back.

When Wei Wuxian complains, Lan Wangji silences him, which is literally the most boss move he could have used on smooth talking Wei Wuxian.

You tried, Fuckboi.

Would you like to try some more because I think I would like you to try some more

Jiang Cheng is the Better Baby Brother

Sorry, he just is. Wei Wuxian is all about being taken care of and adoring Yanli without actually doing much for her. Jiang Cheng is the one who thinks about her feelings and giving her what she needs, even to the point of arranging that wedding rehearsal dinner so she can be with her favorite brother again -- the favorite who isn’t him, much as she also loves him.

Date Test 1: Can You Get In.

Once Wei Wuxian is definitely gone, Lan Wangji shows up again and collects the entire retinue, guaranteeing that Wei Wuxian will be stranded outside the gate when he gets back. LWJ doesn’t wait by the gate; he goes and waits up on the roof instead of going to bed or whatever else he’s supposed to be doing. Because he already knows the route Wei Wuxian will be taking.

Wei Wuxian passes the “get in through the wards” test with no problem besides a minor headache and bent fingers.

Is that Xiao Zhan’s hand or did they use a double-jointed hand model?

Date Test 2: Fight Me (Lan Wangji’s Combat Playbook)

As soon as Wei Wuxian shows up on the roof, Lan Wangji picks a fight with him.

LWJ fights all the time; he’s perfectly comfortable when he’s fighting and it’s a good venue for him to express himself. His style is graceful and aggressive.

Attack attack attack strike a pose, vogue, you know it.

He starts by going all in on swordplay, but that doesn’t gain him the advantage; Wei Wuxian fends him off without ever drawing his sword. Which is probably the hottest thing that has ever happened to Lan Wangji in his young life.

Do you like me better when I’m horizontal?

Next Lan Wangji deploys the pettiness by breaking WWX’s wine. Then when Wei Wuxian starts insulting him he upgrades to next level pettiness by dropping another silence spell, this time with the added bonus of preventing WWX from drinking.

Wei Wuxian’s Combat Playbook, Redux

Meanwhile Wei Wuxian is running his own fight routine, starting with a charm attack, which doesn’t work at all.

Are you admiring the moon?

He keeps trying to de-escalate for the first phase of their fight, until they reach a pause and he reflects that Lan Wangji has real skills. As soon as he makes that determination he goes on the offensive - with words.

He very formally says he’s too busy to continue fighting, and turns away, which is a pretty solid roast when you say it to someone who’s been trying really hard to kick your ass. Then he continues defending easily until Lan Wangji uses the wine against him.

At this point the gloves come off, with Lan Wangji lecturing Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian making ad hominem attacks, Lan Wangji forcibly shutting him up...

...and then throwing him on the floor in front of Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen.

Sincere Grief for the Death of our Colleague

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen feel really bad for their disciple who has been horribly turned into an undead creature. Ha ha j/k

Date Test 3: Face the Authorities

Lan Wangji gets to pick Wei Wuxian’s punishment. This probably won’t awaken anything in him.

Surprise surprise, Wei Wuxian actually passes the Authority test with flying colors. Lan Qiren doesn’t like him, but listens respectfully to his thoughts about the undead cultivator. And Lan Xichen clearly does like him.

When Wei Wuxian learns that Lan Wangji was nice to his sister, his entire demeanor changes, to such an enormous degree that Lan Wangji starts to run away.

He’s not going to let this boy (who has passed all the tests oh no he passed all the tests) make out with him in front of his family like he is obviously planning.

But once again, Wei Wuxian’s cultivation knowledge captures Lan Wangji’s attention and breaks through his reserve.

This Hardy Boys moment is the beginning of their cultivation partnership.

Lan Wangji is brave but is extremely constrained: by the authorities in his life and by his own rigid reserve. Wei Wuxian is brave and is also free. His companionship gives Lan Wangji an opportunity to engage with a much broader range of the things that interest him than he’s ever had before.

After Wei Wuxian has been sent to bed, Lan Wangji stands outside and -- just as WWX had suggested at the beginning of their date/fight -- admires the moon, with an expression that’s anything but upset.

Sure, sex is cool (probably), but have you ever analyzed a walking corpse with a beautiful boy in the moonlight?

If you’ve got your true honey Life can be pretty funny If you've got money, money to burn Rooty toot toot for the moon It's the biggest star I've ever seen

The Fine-as-Hell Brothers

Alone together, Lans Xichen and Wangji talk over the various things on their minds.

Xichen: What the fuck is up with you? ...Rooftop fights and dropping spells on boys?

Wangji: You and uncle were ignoring me so I was making my own fun

Xichen: Yeah, we are dealing with this zombie situation; shit’s going to hit the fan

Wangji: what are you going to do about it?

Xichen: fuck-all

Wangji: Well, you can rely on me

Xichen: I totally do. So how about you get to know this Wei kid, he seems like a fun ride.

Wangji: *death glare*

Xichen: You know, since Dad died you’ve become even more uptight. I wonder if I’ve been too strict with you?

Wangji: Um, you think? 3000 fucking rules, dude. Fortunately I’m not going to go off the rails and fall in love with my polar opposite and cause havoc in the cultivation world or anything like that.

Xichen: good, me neither

Outtro

Writing prompt: Lan Xichen’s secret nightly letter to his Mom’s memory or spirit (your choice), in which he confides in her about his day. May be written in flute solo form.

(As always if you use this prompt feel free to post a link to your fic in comments!)

Soundtrack: 1. This Is The Day by The The 2. Bela Lugosi’s Dead by Bauhaus 3. Rooty Toot Toot for the Moon, Greg Brown version 4. Madonna, Vogue

Bonus: FineAsHell-Jun

Episode 04 Restless Rewatch coming soon!

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bettydice · 3 years ago

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Xicheng, Modern AU, JC&WWX reconciliation, E-Rated [Read on AO3]

CHAPTER 9

Saturday

The sun doesn’t show itself today. Heavy clouds block the view, and a strong wind is blowing. At least it’s not raining and this way, there aren’t many other people around. Lan Xichen doesn’t seem bothered by the weather at all. He seems excited to be here, happily shows Jiang Cheng all his favourite spots. Sometimes he’ll say things like “This blooms in May and has the most gorgeous blossoms, we have to come back then!”. As though there’s no question they’ll still be doing things like this together then.

Everything goes well until they sit down in Lan Xichen’s favourite favourite spot: a bench hidden behind the swaying branches of a willow, overlooking a little pond.

They’re sitting close together, shoulders and legs touching, holding hands, seeking each other’s warmth as protection against the wind. In truth, it’s not very windy in this spot, the trees around them creating a buffer, but Jiang Cheng sees no reason to not be as close to Lan Xichen as possible.

They’ve been sitting there in peaceful quiet for a few minutes, Jiang Cheng mentally going through whether he really has everything he needs for dinner later, when he looks from the pond to Lan Xichen’s face. He looks… he looks sad. There’s a tension to his jaw and a crease between his eyebrows that would look more at home on Jiang Cheng’s face.

Should he ask him? Should he start talking about something random to distract him? That’s what Wei Wuxian would do, but Jiang Cheng is not good at talking nonsense. His sister would simply radiate an aura that let Jiang Cheng know he could talk to her and that everything would be okay. Lan Xichen also seems to have that ability. But Jiang Cheng is...himself.e doesn’t have any intrinsic soothing abilities. He can only try to imitate other people.

He squeezes Lan Xichen’s hand to get his attention, and sees how Lan Xichen quickly masks his sad expression with his usual gentle smile before he turns his head to look at Jiang Cheng. That’s… that’s not what Jiang Cheng wanted.

“Are you okay?” The words feel clunky on his tongue, like he’s using these words for the first time. Which is not the case! He’s not that much of a lost cause.

Lan Xichen’s eyes widen just the tiniest bit, then deepens his smile and Jiang Cheng is sure he’s about to say that everything is fine. But instead Lan Xichen hesitates and… he drops the smile and sighs. “I was just reminded… The last time I was here, it was still spring. That tree was still in bloom.” He points at a tree across the pond. The wind is attacking it, leaves desperately trying to hold on to the branches and losing the fight. “It reminded me how stuck I’ve been… still am, really. Just drifting from day to day. I tried to recall what I did this summer and nothing memorable stood out to me.”

His first instinct is to disagree, though it’s not like Jiang Cheng can’t painfully relate to that feeling. “Well, you’re busy with your job and your bunnies and plants. And… time is bullshit anyway.”

Lan Xichen chuckles but quickly turns solemn again. “It hasn’t been long though since I started working again… you’re only my third client after my… let’s call it break.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t know that. He didn’t know things had been so bad for Lan Xichen that he couldn’t work. At least he thinks that’s what he’s saying. He squeezes Lan Xichen’s hand again, not sure what to say.

“I’m not saying this because… The fact that I’m working again shows that the past year hasn’t been in vain. I just… the world didn’t wait while I tried to heal.”

Jiang Cheng has nothing helpful to say, even though he can painfully relate to this feeling. Feeling stuck in one place while the world keeps turning, while other people seem to be able to forget and move on. He hopes his quiet support is enough for Lan Xichen.

They both look at the tree for a long moment. One of the struggling leaves gets torn off, but then gracefully loops through the air until it gently comes to rest on the water surface.

Lan Xichen turns to look at Jiang Cheng and smiles, without sadness. “But I think today will be memorable.You are.”

What the fuck? How can he just say that so casually? Jiang Cheng feels his face grow hot, while Lan Xichen just looks at him.

In lieu of an appropriate spoken response that doesn’t only consist of incoherent garbled noises, Jiang Cheng uses Wei Wuxian’s tried and trusted ‘Hey look, over there!’ tactic: “Hey, I saw online that there’s a lovely café close to the entrance. Let’s go there and treat ourselves to something nice. It’s your birthdate after all.” Ugh, fuck Nie Huaisang and his stupid word creations. “Your birthday date.. Not date. Whatever. Only if you want to, of course?”

Lan Xichen’s mouth twitches with amusement, but doesn’t call Jiang Cheng on his bullshit. “That sounds lovely. You’re right, it is my birthdate.”

Jiang Cheng snorts a laugh, then gets to his feet, pulling Lan Xichen up with him.

The café is indeed very nice and thankfully pretty empty. Lan Xichen orders a chocolatey drink that could rival one of Jin Zixuan’s sugar-coffee-monstrosities and a piece of cake topped with colourful sparkles.

“I’m going to regret this later,” he cheerfully announces before tucking in.

Jiang Cheng keeps a close watch on his face while eating his own brownie and black coffee, not wanting to risk missing a shift in his mood like last time. Even though Lan Xichen stays cheerful the entire time, Jiang Cheng keeps watching him anyway, because he can’t look anywhere else.

As it turns out, it was a very good idea for them to go to that café, as dinner… takes a while. Jiang Cheng may have severely underestimated how long it would take to prepare all the different side dishes he wants to make and may have severely overestimated how much food is a good amount for two people to make. Oh well, it’s always good to have leftovers. To his relief everything tastes really good. Though maybe not too surprising, since he got most recipes from his sister.

After dinner, they sit down on the couch, both a little tired after eating so much food. Jiang Cheng is busy mulling over how to best initiate, well… cuddling, when Lan Xichen turns to face him, smiles, and kisses him.

Jiang Cheng takes this opportunity to put his arms around Lan Xichen’s shoulders and pull him closer, all while enthusiastically kissing him back.

“Mhm.” Lan Xichen huffs a laugh against his lips, then pulls back a little. “I’ve wanted to do that since… the whole day, basically.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well, we were in public. And then you were intensely focused on preparing dinner. I thought it was better to just quietly chop the things you threw on my cutting board.”

Lan Xichen is only teasing him, Jiang Cheng is pretty sure about that, though he can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. He instantly squashes that feeling though, because: “We’re not in public now.”

“No, we’re not.” Lan Xichen lifts his hand to Jiang Cheng’s face, his thumb caresses his cheekbone, then he slowly slides his hand down until it’s resting on Jiang Cheng’s neck. “So…?”

Jiang Cheng either nods or shakes his head, he doesn’t know, he only knows Lan Xichen kisses him again, draws him close, hand secure in his neck.

They haven’t done this before. Kissed so deeply, unrestricted by location or time. The intensity is overwhelming and it’d be so easy for him to overthink this. Are his kisses gentle enough? Passionately enough? Hands - where? What’s his dick doing? But this kiss is too nice to have it ruined by such things. So he focuses fully on the kissing, opens for Lan Xichen after he teases his lower lip with his tongue and just allows himself to get lost in it.

Lan Xichen’s hand keeps wandering lower and lower, until it’s resting on Jiang Cheng’s hip, fingers touching the waistband of his jeans through his sweater. He wants to feel his hand directly on his skin, but is not sure if that’s where this is going, if Lan Xichen would want that too.

After a while, Lan Xichen ends the kiss so they can catch their breath. He smiles down at him, which is when Jiang Cheng notices he’s somehow lying on his back now.

Lan Xichen’s face is flushed, his hair in disarray (because of Jiang Cheng’s hands! Another thing he only just now realises), his eyes dark, his lips red… Jiang Cheng reaches for him to pull him into another kiss, but Lan Xichen doesn’t let himself be pulled just yet.

“Is this okay?”

Jiang Cheng follows his gaze down to where - oh - Lan Xichen’s hand rests on his waist, under his sweater. “Oh... yeah. Yeah.” Then, in a move not supported by any brain cells, he pulls off his sweater and the t-shirt underneath. Lan Xichen looks stunned, of course he is, because Jiang Cheng skipped straight to undressing for no reason. Maybe it’s because he’s so used to undressing in Lan Xichen’s presence, maybe because he knows how it feels to have Lan Xichen’s hands on his body and he wants them there, wants to-

Lan Xichen kisses him again, his lips as hot as his hands, fingertips pressing into Jiang Cheng’s back.

Jiang Cheng is having an out of body, no, out of mind experience. He’s very much inhabiting his body, feeling everything. How his skin is hot everywhere their bodies touch, Lan Xichen’s mouth on his jaw, his neck, the familiar slide of Lan Xichen’s long fingers, now touching him in a way he’s very decidedly never done during his massages. He’s never gripped his hip to pull him closer, has never sighed against his mouth.

In the few moments he has access to his brain, he desperately uses it to make sure he’s kissing Lan Xichen just as intently, that his touch is just as gentle, that he somehow remembers to breathe during all this… There’s no room for anything else.

He gets lost in it completely, until eventually Lan Xichen breaks the kiss again.

“Maybe we should… I should probably go home…” It sounds like a question, so Jiang Cheng answers.

“You don’t have to.” He feels even hotter after he says this, probably flushing. It’s not like it’d come as a surprise to Lan Xichen that Jiang Cheng is aroused, not the way they’re pressed together, the way Lan Xichen now drags his heavy gaze from Jiang Cheng’s face down his body and back up again. He’ll be able to see that Jiang Cheng wants him to, would let him… that he wants everything. Lan Xichen holds his gaze, his hand tightens on Jiang Cheng’s hips as if he wants to keep him right here, underneath him. As if Jiang Cheng would want to go anywhere else right now…

Then Lan Xichen’s face softens, he loosens his grip and he closes his eyes, laughing quietly. Oh. So not today. “I… I want to. But…”

“No, don’t worry! That’s okay. I was just… it’s too-”

“I want to,” Lan Xichen says emphatically, looking directly at him. “But it was a long day. A lovely day, but…” He falters, his eyes now looking at Jiang Cheng’s cheek instead of his eyes. A few seconds pass, Lan Xichen’s brow furrowing as he’s looking for the right words. “I’m actually quite exhausted - a good exhaustion! But I had to feel a lot today. … If that makes sense at all?”

Jiang Cheng takes Lan Xichen’s face between his hands and presses a soft kiss to his lips. “Of course.”

Lan Xichen sighs relieved, then sits up and tries to straighten his hair, a hint of embarrassment tugging at the corners of his mouth. He does look a little tired, now that the haze of lust has dissipated between them, and Jiang Cheng can see more clearly. Jiang Cheng feels the exhaustion, too, as though he’ll fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

“What time is it?” Jiang Cheng asks while following Lan Xichen into a sitting position, then lifts his arm, because he’s wearing a goddamn watch so he can answer his own fucking question. “9 p.m.? What the fuck… how long did we…”

Lan Xichen only hums, clearly amused, and bends forward, so he can hand Jiang Cheng his sweater and t-shirt from where he’d carelessly thrown it on the floor. While Jiang Cheng struggles to put them back on, having to first untangle the shirt from the sweater before deciding to just not bother with the t-shirt, Lan Xichen yawns extensively, and for some reason, with his sweater only halfway on, Jiang Cheng opens his mouth to say: “You could spend the night here.”

Lan Xichen just cocks his head at him, slightly raises his eyebrows. Saying ‘Didn’t I just decline your horny offer’ without actually saying so.

“No, I meant - “ Jiang Cheng manages to jam his arm in the other sleeve and is now mostly dressed again. “I meant, you could sleep here. So you don’t have to go home first. Like, on the couch - it’s not actually that comfortable though, so I should take the couch… But you probably want to sleep in your own bed, sorry.”

“Actually, I think that sounds lovely,” Lan Xichen says, then looks surprised at his own words. Jiang Cheng is surprised, too. “Would it not be a bother?”

“For me? Not at all!” Jiang Cheng thinks his brain has never fully come back online after their kisses. Words leave his mouth and he doesn’t know where they came from. He keeps spewing them out, unable to stop. “But… you don’t have any… like pyjamas or a toothbrush - do I have a spare toothbrush? I think there was a buy two get one free sale recently?”

Why isn’t Lan Xichen interrupting him to say ‘You’re right, I’ll go home immediately so you can stop embarrassing yourself.’ Instead he just looks at him, eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Uh, but breakfast. Well, there’s definitely enough food in my fridge now after dinner. Do I have - no, I have extra bedding, of course I do.” Okay, it’d be neat if he could stop talking now. Jiang Cheng grabs a pillow and presses it against his stomach, the next best thing to screaming into it. He focuses really hard and tries to find a sentence that can function as some kind of end point. “But... you... probably? Have to… take care of your bunnies anyway?”

Lan Xichen is still only looking, head slightly cocked, but now his lips are twitching as though he’s trying hard not to laugh. A few seconds later, he does laugh, and hot shame courses through Jiang Cheng. He really made it obvious he doesn’t have a lot of experience with asking people to stay over. (Usually it just happened naturally after sexual activities of one kind or the other. He’s never asked anyone to stay because he… Why did he ask? Because he doesn’t want Lan Xichen to leave just yet?)

Lan Xichen notices how Jiang Cheng’s expression changes to regret; he stops laughing and takes Jiang Cheng’s hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… It was just fascinating to see you voice the kind of thoughts I was probably about to have in a few minutes myself. Now I don’t have to, so, thank you.”

What? “You’re welcome?”

“And the bunnies will be fine. Wangji visited them tonight anyway.”

“Okay. So…” Jiang Cheng seems to have used up all his words before. It’s probably better that way.

“So, I wouldn’t mind staying over.” Lan Xichen smiles at him warmly, fondly. He stands up and tugs on Jiang Cheng’s hand. Jiang Cheng follows him up easily.

“Oh. Okay. That’s great! Cool.”

“Do you want to check whether you have a spare toothbrush?” There’s that twinkle in Lan Xichen’s eyes that always takes Jiang Cheng by surprise, but that he loves to see. It reminds Jiang Cheng it’s okay to just be in Lan Xichen’s presence, and it restarts his brain. He huffs a laugh, his shoulders relaxing, and goes to look for that toothbrush.

As it turns out, Jiang Cheng did have a spare toothbrush, as well as the lounge clothes Lan Xichen lent him after Cloud peed on him and Jiang Cheng kept forgetting to return. He also had a second set of bedding, though nobody ends up sleeping on the couch. Jiang Cheng isn’t entirely sure how that happened, he just knows that it’s shortly after midnight, Lan Xichen is lying next to him, sleeping next to him, and Jiang Cheng is scared to move in case it wakes him up.

He has barely moved since they turned off the light almost two hours ago. Usually, he turns and twists a lot before he falls asleep, because his tense shoulders make it difficult to find a comfortable position. The position he is in now is definitely not comfortable, in fact, his right shoulder might be cramping up a little. It’s been two hours, Lan Xichen is probably deep asleep by now - it’d be okay to adjust his position a little, right? He’ll be careful, he won’t wake him.

Jiang Cheng slowly rolls over on his left side, quietly slides his hand under his pillow and pulls one leg towards him. He glances towards Lan Xichen, to make sure he didn’t wake him, only to lose five years of his life, as Lan Xichen is returning his look, eyes wide open.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Jiang Cheng whispers, he tries to, anyway. His voice still feels too loud. It always does.

“Of course not,” Lan Xichen replies with perfect talking-in-the-middle-of-the-night volume. “You haven’t made a sound since we laid down.”

“Can’t sleep?” This time, Jiang Cheng’s voice comes closer to Lan Xichen’s softness.

Lan Xichen’s face is only barely visible in the darkness, but because Jiang Cheng knows it so well, his mind can fill the shadows with memories of the day. He can see his eyes, though, reflecting the moonlight that sneaks through the curtains.

“Mhm.” Lan Xichen adjusts his position, face inching a little closer to Jiang Cheng. “It’s been a while since I shared a bed with someone.”

“Me too. I’m scared to move in case I disturb you.” These things are easier to admit in the dark.

“Mhm.”

Lan Xichen sounds so sleepy; Jiang Cheng regrets asking him to stay. If he hadn’t, Lan Xichen would be soundly asleep in his own bed right now. “I’ll go sleep on the couch then, I should have done that from the start, sorry.”

As soon as he says that, Lan Xichen throws his arm across Jiang Cheng’s body. “No, stay.”

“Oh, okay. Are you sure?”

Lan Xichen throws his leg over Jiang Cheng’s legs, too, then pulls him closer until Jiang Cheng can feel his breath on his face. “Very sure.”

“Okay.” Jiang Cheng moves his right arm a little, so his hand lies between their chests and isn’t in danger of brushing against Lan Xichen’s crotch anymore. “Yeah, okay.”

“This way we don’t have to worry about accidentally touching the other,” Lan Xichen says, his smile hard to make out in the darkness, but nevertheless beautiful. He moves back his leg, but before Jiang Cheng can miss the touch, he slides it between Jiang Cheng’s legs. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.” Jiang Cheng is surprised to find that to be actually true. Knowing that the warmth he feels is not his blanket, but coming from Lan Xichen, the reassuring weight of his arm... He splays his fingers, so his little finger brushes against Lan Xichen’s chest.

Lan Xichen hums, content, and for a while they just lie like this, quietly. Until Jiang Cheng feels the urge to talk again. It must be a leftover from the year he shared a room with Wei Wuxian until they moved to a bigger house. Wei Wuxian always started chatting as soon as they turned off the light.

“Technically, there is a second bedroom here. I just never go in there.”

Lan Xichen strokes his hand across Jiang Cheng’s back, to signal that he’s listening.

“It’s Wei Wuxian’s room. Well, it was supposed to be. And now...” Now it’s just there, reminding him every day of how he fucked things up.

“You’re not using it?” Lan Xichen asks gently. It’s not a reproach, he simply wants to know.

Jiang Cheng shakes his head, then says ‘No’ out loud, in case Lan Xichen couldn’t see it.

“Because you’re waiting for him to come back?”

“I... No. Yes. Maybe? I generally avoid thinking about it. You’ve seen what happens when I think about it.”

“Mhm.” Lan Xichen keeps stroking his back. He’s not moving his arm, just lightly moves his hand back and forth. “If it was empty, what would you use the room for?”

Jiang Cheng takes a moment to think about it, since he’s never done that before. “I don’t know. I guess… an office? But I don’t want to waste a whole room for my shitty degree. Maybe… I could turn it into a proper guest room, for when Jin Ling gets older. Maybe he could stay over sometimes.”

“That sounds nice. You could still put your desk in there, it helps to have your work space separate from your living space.”

“Yeah… That makes sense, I suppose.” The thought of changing it from Wei Wuxian’s Room to something else doesn’t fill him with the dread he expected, surprisingly. He does know, somewhere deep in his heart, that even if they reconcile, Wei Wuxian won’t move in here. Shouldn’t. They were horrible roommates, if he considers it honestly. There’s no reason to hold on to this old bitterness, no reason to still let it poison his mood. “I should do that.”

“I’ll help you. I like redecorating.”

Lan Xichen says it so matter of fact, Jiang Cheng can’t help himself - he has to kiss him. He closes the last remaining distance between them and gives him a short, sweet kiss. He doesn’t move back after, just stays there, as close as possible.

“I wanted to thank you for inviting me to your home,” Lan Xichen whispers against his lips.

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure this is something he should be thanked for. Compared to Lan Xichen’s flat, his is unremarkable. “Uh, thank you for coming over.”

“It means a lot that you shared your space with me.”

It’s weird being this close. He can only see blurry shapes instead of Lan Xichen’s face. But his voice is so clear, even though he’s whispering. He can feel it when he talks, the movement of his lips, his chest under his fingers. Jiang Cheng has never experienced this kind of intimacy. It’s exciting but he’s also a little scared what kind of secret this atmosphere might drag out of him. “Well, it’s only fair, since I’ve spent so much time at your place already.”

“Still… I was… “Lan Xichen hesitates. He slowly cards his fingers through Jiang Cheng’s hair while mulling over his words. “It means a lot.”

Somehow, Jiang Cheng understands. Lan Xichen’s words shape the form of an old wound. Or maybe a scar, by now. He presses another kiss to his lips, though misses by a little and only catches the corner of his mouth. “Even though I don’t have any plants?”

“You’re right, we need to change that.”Lan Xichen laughs quietly and pokes Jiang Cheng’s foot with his big toe. “I like it here. Even without plants.”

“Not much to like. Yours is much nicer,” Jiang Cheng mumbles.

“You live here,” Lan Xichen replies, as though that’s answer enough. Maybe it is. It’s not an answer Jiang Cheng can deal with right now, so he just makes a noise in between a hum and a scoff.

They fall quiet again, and Jiang Cheng closes his eyes after a while. He thinks he could finally fall asleep like this, lulled by the soothing rhythm of Lan Xichen stroking his hair.

“I like your hair like this.”

It takes Jiang Cheng a second to realise that he should reply, that he’s still awake. “Mhm?”

“You usually tie it back.” Lan Xichen lets one strand of hair run between his fingers, then tucks it behind Jiang Cheng’s ear.

“I should cut it short again. Been months. A year.” Jiang Cheng wonders if it’s possible to fall asleep while talking. He’s surprised by every word that manages to squeeze through his tired lips.

“I like it.”

“You like a lot of things. My flat, my hair, my face…”

“It’s true. I do.” Lan Xichen is smiling, Jiang Cheng can hear it.

“Me too. Like yours. You.”

“Mhm, that’s good.”

Jiang Cheng falls asleep then, but Lan Xichen’s presence follows him into his dreams. He sleeps very well.

#xicheng #the untamed #Jiang Cheng #Lan Xichen #cql #modern au #To Meet You verse #betty drabbles

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immacaria · 3 years ago

Text

Box of Memories

Happy belated birthday, A-Sang! Wish you all the joy and love life has reserved for you!

Almost three weeks after the actual birthday I've finally finished this thanks to my dear school (grinds teeth angrily). Anyway, this is a bit short, like almost 4k or something, and I took this insanely amount of time because of school, but it's alright I finished it now. So I hope you guys enjoy this and I can make your day a little brighter with it. As always, stay safe and healthy!

_____________________________________________________________

It was Nie Huaisang’s birthday and Jiang Cheng was more anxious than when he had to survive Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen and Meng Yao’s shove talk one after the other. For the heavens and all above, they had been dating for four years now and met each since they were five and six! There was no reason for him to be so nervous! They passed so many birthdays, with so many presents exchanged and Jiang Cheng was still nervous. And just because he made the present with his own hands and it turned out horrible!

Like not the ‘you can’t even look at’ type of horrible, but the ‘didn’t meet my expectations exactly what immediately makes it horrible’ type of horrible. He started doing it exactly two days later after Nie Huaisang said he wanted it and guaranteed that nobody would buy it for him, exactly nine months and eight days before his birthday. He had seen it on Pinterest, in a video where a girl was making a “box of memories” (as Jiang Cheng came to call it) for her younger sister.

She had chosen their favourite memory and made something like a box of shadows to show it. There was a light bulb in the middle with various metal plates cut in the shape of the memories. When turned on, the metal plates started to revolve around the light bulb and create images on the wall, recreating the memory with the shadows. Nie Huaisang loved it and showed it to every person who he knew could give one for him or make one. Thankfully, none of them could give it right away which gave Jiang Cheng enough time to plan how he would do it.

It all began with him asking what memory he would use of all his favorites and asked what happened there, memorizing them to the heart and writing everything down the second he saw himself alone. His drawing skills weren’t as good as Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen’s, but as long as they remained a sketch, they would do. After sketching it all, he went to Nie Mingjue and asked him to teach him how to cut the metal plates and arrange them properly in the other metal pieces. Apparently, there was a machine that did that for them, the only thing they needed to do was insert the images and the sizes of the plates and let it do what it needed to do. Which led Jiang Cheng to ask for some draw lessons from Lan Xichen and digital design from Lan Wangji, which cost several years of his life but he guessed he was bound to do everything needed for his boyfriend.

He planned everything on the little planner he bought (if it was specifically brought for that no one needed to know) and every day he ticked something off. Besides the box of memories, he wrote a letter everyday to him and hid it in the last drawer of his wardrobe under piles and piles of clothes. From Open it now to Open it when you are sixty years old and Open it when you are in doubt about us, everyday a letter for 281 days and too much ink, paper and ideas, too much feelings engraved in those. But should he regret it, knowing that it would make Nie Huaisang happy? The boy loved this kind of old, romantic things like handwritten letters, so why shouldn’t he give it to him too? Handwritten letters with little doodles on the edges of the paper and little trinkets.

At the beginning of May, Jiang Cheng started putting it all together, doing the last reviews and adjustments. Once the plates were done, he called Wei Wuxian to help with the electric part of the thing, the shameless idiot being graduated in electrical engineering somehow. He had to endure his little ramble about how he had become so romantic and how considerate of somebody else’s feelings, how he was going miles out of what everyone said was normal. It would be a lie if Jiang Cheng ever said that he wasn’t slightly proud and happy upon hearing that.

They made slow progress but the present was ready six days before the due date, which gave Jiang Cheng enough anxiety and stress for the rest of his life (good thing he took on his mother’s side of genetics and wasn’t getting any white hairs until a very, very old age). Would Nie Huaisang find out the present before his birthday? Would he hate it or love it? Would he simply be neutral about all the gifts? Would he fake liking it? What could possibly happen once he gives it to him? Would it destroy their relationship?

On March 20, Jiang Cheng was about to have a stroke or an aneurysm or both of them probably. Just some more hours and they would see if Nie Huaisang liked the present or not. Since it had been ready, the poor present had been tested countless times to see if it worked properly (it did, thank gods), changed locations incessantly while he wrote every single letter by hand before making a wooden box and putting all he had made in there. The memory box, the 281 letters and some fans he bought in the Yunmeng market that reminded him of Nie Huaisang.

Early on, he had promised Nie Huaisang that he would help him with the birthday’s decorations and preparations for everything . After that, he made a quick run to his house to take a bath and try to calm himself because he couldn’t throw up in the party, he even got time to test it again, watching as Nie Huaisang’s favourite memory of all time played on his bedroom wall. It was practically memorized by now, the way the images followed one by one in quick succession, recreating a story that he could tell even if he had amnesia.

Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue and their parents were the main characters in the memory. Nie Huaisang was maybe four or five years old while Nie Mingjue was something like sixteen or seventeen years old and they were travelling to the small cabin they passed the holidays. He always said that that weekend was the best one of his life, one where his entire family was together and happy, complete. This memory in particular was one where Nie Huaisang was being thrown in the air by his father to land in the arms of one of his mothers while Nie Mingjue and their second mother were suffering a heart attack. Even though there was some melancholy in his eyes, he always spoke fondly and laughed about the face his brother made when he landed on their mother’s arms and passed the rest of the weekend guaranteeing that their father wouldn’t do another one of those again.

Jiang Cheng would die as a happy man if he could make him as happy as he was on that day, even if for one day. Well, not die, he was still too young to die, but he would feel fulfilled and satisfied. So, he tried to focus on that when he stepped inside the party, clutching to the wooden box and breathing deep. He’s going to like it, he’s not going to hate me, he’s going to smile because of the present, everything is going to be fine, we are not breaking up. Okay, maybe he was a little bit paranoid and afraid of what was going to happen, but he was fine, he was going to be fine. He just needed to loosen up and enjoy the party until it was time to open the presents.

“A-Cheng!” Nie Huaisang said, throwing his arms around his neck and hiding his face in his neck. Jiang Cheng only had time to pull the box to the side to prevent him from getting hurt before putting an arm around his waist and kissing his temple. “Tell your brother to stop being mean to me on my birthday.”

“If Lan Wangji can’t control him, what makes you think I can?” He said, still holding him. “Happy birthday, Huaisang, many years of life and happiness for you.” He kissed his temple again before stepping away and showing him the present. “For you.”

“Oh, A-Cheng! You didn’t need to! You are already present enough.” He gasped, taking the box of his hands while Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at him. He always said that but he remembered very well what he did to Jin Zixuan when the man showed up without his present. He didn’t want to be in the same ending of his fury, thank you very much.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” He rolled his eyes again, bending a little to let Nie Huaisang kiss his cheek.

“I don’t know what you gave me, but I already love it.” He smiled brightly at him, walking to the kitchen and carefully choosing a place to put it. The kitchen was loaded with presents, some big, others small, colorful wraps or black and white with an interesting pattern on it, some didn’t even had proper wraps around it. There were a lot of presents and for a moment Jiang Cheng’s brain simply went blank and decided that, for sure, there was one that topped his present. Which was nonsense, but still served to increase his stress and anxiety (once again he thanked his genetics for not getting white hairs early). “C’mon, let’s go to the living room. Da-ge is telling some story from when we were children.”

“Is he telling the green incident? Because if he is, I would rather stay in the kitchen.” And check if the other presents are better than mine so I can throw them out the window.

“Of course not! Da-ge doesn’t remember that story anymore.” He waved him off, entering the room in the exact moment Nie Mingjue said:

“Then a bucket of green paint fell into his head.” His thunderous laugh filled the room as he started to tell the amazing story of how Nie Huaisang managed to dye himself green after he dumped a whole bucket of paint on his head when he was seven years old.

“Da-ge!” He screamed, going red instantly. “What are you doing?!” He yelped, high-pitched, as he threw a cushion at him. “Shut up!”

“What? I was just talking about the green dye you did on your skin.” He laughed again, dodging the cushion and showing his tongue to him. It was strange to see a man of his size acting like that, but sincerely Jiang Cheng sometimes forgot that he too was human and (kind of) young. “Hey, Wanyin, do you want to sit here?”

“Hey, hey, hey. No stealing boyfriends on my birthday or ever, Da-ge. You already have two.” He wrapped himself around his arm, glaring at his brother. “Stop being so selfish, Da-ge.”

“Selfish? Take that back, brat, before I break your legs.” He narrowed his eyes at him, pointing a finger at him.

“It’s his birthday and you don’t get to threaten the birthday boy, Jue-ge.” Lan Xichen sighed, pulling his hand down. He was beside Nie Mingjue and sitting next to Lan Wangji, talking quietly between the two of them before the threats started rolling out.

“Stop covering him, Lan Xichen.” He turned to him as Nie Huaisang pulled him to the bench next to the window and between two high bookshelves full of sketchbooks, some completed, others completely blank.

“So, what’s your present?” He suddenly asked, playing with Jiang Cheng’s fingers.

“What? It’s a fucking surprise, A-Sang, I can’t tell you.” He spurred, furrowing his eyebrows at him.

“But, A-Cheng, yours were the heaviest of it all. What is it?” He shook his arm, doing the puppy eyes. The fucking puppy eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. Stop, A-Sang.” He growled, avoiding looking at him. “You know I can’t take the puppy eyes.”

“A-Cheng~.” He laid ahead, searching for his eyes. And, heavens, who taught that boy that? Nie Mingjue for sure was not. Maybe Meng Yao. Yeah, definitely Meng Yao. Jiang Cheng was going to kill Meng Yao for teaching Nie Huaisang that. “Please~. I want to know.”

“Ok, ok, ok. Just one part, okay?” Jiang Cheng pushed him away, feeling the back of his neck heating up.

“From how many parts?” His eyes were shining and attentive which meant that he was probably making a million combinations on his head, comparing and guessing what he could possibly ever get him.

“I’m not going to tell you.” He scowled, taking a deep breath. “One part of your presents is fans, okay? I got you some fans.”

“Really?!” His eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his bangs. “I love fans.”

“I know, A-Sang.” He breathed out, kissing his fingers.

“But I love you more.” He smiled, leaning to kiss him lightly on the lips. “I love you so much more than the fans.” He murmured against them, hands on his neck.

“Idiot.” He chuckled, kissing him back while smiling. He always seemed to smile easily when he was near him, breath was easier too. Sincerely, Nie Huaisang just made things easier just by being near him, just his presence and, maybe, it was the reason why he wanted to do everything in his power to make him happy as he could be. “I love you too.”

“More than dogs and A-Ling?” He sat between his legs, back against his chest.

“Don’t push your luck.” He may love A-Sang, but dogs and his nephew were more important, they always brought instant happiness with them. Next to him, Nie Huaisang was chuckling quietly, pulling both of Jiang Cheng’s arms around his waist and putting his hands above before starting to talk with Meng Yao about some new exposition of them and all the technicalities involving it.

Jiang Cheng let himself fall back into the security of all the conversations around him that didn’t involve him and the warmth of Nie Huaisang on his arms and against his chest. Slowly his panic disappeared from his mind as the time passed and the presents weren’t mentioned not even once. Almost everyone was there, the only ones missing being Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli and their newborn Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng’s little sweetheart, who were overseas to look over the inauguration of Jiang Yanli’s new restaurant in Las Vegas (To say that Jiang Cheng was crazely proud of her would be an understatement).

Either way, no amount of time would be enough to prepare him for when Wei Wuxian and MianMian appeared in the kitchen bringing the cake and the tray of sweets. The candle was already lit up and displaying the number 23, as if nobody knew how old Nie Huaisang was. He dislocated his hands enough to clap but not remove his arm from around his waist. Nie Huaisang laughed, clapping according to the music, but sunken further on his chest, refusing to move another millimeter as his ears went adorably red.

“Happy birthday, Nie Huaisang!” Everyone screamed when the song ended, blowing confetti over them. The screams and whistles became a cacophony as Nie Huaisang blew out the candle and laughed out loud, putting both of his hands over his mouth.

“Happy birthday, Nie-xiong!” MianMian hugged him after Wen Qing, her girlfriend, took the cake from her. “Many, many years of happiness and fulfillment to you, my dear. Hope you enjoy mine and A-Qing’s present.” She winked, mischievously.

“What have you given me, MianMian?” Nie Huaisang said, eyes wide.

“Nothing you can open in front of Da-ge.” She laughed, absolutely delighted at his terrified face and Jiang Cheng’s groan. He had noticed that everyone had a tendency of calling Nie Mingjue ‘Da-ge’.

“No! You stole my idea!” Wei Wuxian complained, giving him a half-hug and equilibrating the tray of sweets on the other arm. “Many years of love and laughter, Nie-xiong, may time and life treat you well.” He fully hugged him once MianMian came back to take the tray away from him, calming Jiang Cheng’s anxiety.

“I want to see what those two gave you. No excuses.” Nie Mingjue said, serious, before crushing him in a tight hug. “Happy anniversary, didi. I’m very proud of you and what you have become. Ma, Baba and Mother would be so, so proud of you and happy for all the friends and people you have around you.” He may or may not have sniffed on that part, hiding his face on his brother’s neck.

“Thank you, Da-ge. They would be very proud of you too.” Nie Huaisang whispered back and Jiang Cheng saw him blink repeatedly to avoid the tears from falling out.

“He grew up so fast.” He mourned, resting his head on Lan Xichen’s shoulder while Meng Yao hugged and wished him a happy birthday and life. Once he was done and it was Lan Xichen’s turn, Nie Mingjue wrapped himself over him, sniffing loudly. After that, the other guests did a quick succession of ‘Happy Birthday’ and wishes for a good and long life. Not for a moment Nie Huaisang stepped away from Jiang Cheng, always at arm’s reach of his hands. Not that he had tried to pull him back when he stepped away, Jiang Cheng would never do that.

“So, A-Sang, now that all the wishes have been given and Wangji-ge and I have cut the cake. For whom is the first piece?” MianMian asked, holding a plate with a piece of cake to him.

“A-Cheng!” He quickly answered, turning to him. “For being the best boyfriend a man could ask. And not being too scared of Da-ge.”

“I’m not that scared of Mingjue-ge, but thank you, I guess.” Jiang Cheng said, taking the plate from his hands and completely refusing to look over where Nie Mingjue was.

“Woah, he didn’t even hesitate.” Wei Wuxian said, surprised. “I could swear he was going to give it to Da-ge.” That was it, Jiang Cheng was now certain that everyone, except for maybe Wen Qing, saw Nie Mingjue as an older brother. But, well, were they wrong?

“Da-ge has received many first pieces in his life. It’s A-Cheng’s time.” Nie Huaisang scrunched his nose at him before jogging to the kitchen. “C’mon people! Eat, eat! I want to open my presents!”

Jiang Cheng chuckled, starting to eat the cake as the others were doing a line to receive their own piece and, fucking hell, he understood why they wanted one. The cake was divine! It was fluffy and tasty, exploding in the mouth the moment you bite it and it wasn’t too sweet. It was possibly the best cake he ever had the pleasure to eat and by the look of the other’s face, they thought that too.

“Nie-xiong, who made the cake? I want their number.” Wei Wuxian said, pleasure written all over his face. “It’s so good!”

“Oh, it was Wangji and Da-ge.” Nie Huaisang said, pointing at them. Everyone turned their heads to them, looking in awe.

“Lan Zhan?! But he never did one of me.” Wei Wuxian complained, pouting.

“Mingjue-ge made the dough and I did the frosting and the decorations.” Lan Wangji passed a piece of cake to Wen Ning.

“And the sweets. He did the sweets too.” Nie Mingjue said, throwing one of the sweets in his mouth.

“Which are fucking marvellous!” MianMian exclaimed, doing a thumbs up for him.

“No speaking while eating.” He and Lan Xichen said in unison, without looking at her. After that everyone focused on eating the cake and the sweets. Nie Huaisang came back to sit beside Jiang Cheng, taking the sweets he didn’t like to his own plate. Most of them got a second piece and more sweets because those things were really fucking good.

“Now, the presents!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, excited and sending Jiang Cheng’s heartbeat to space. “I’m excited.” He was jumping on his seat.

“Whose present will you open first?” Lan Xichen said, getting up and going to the kitchen.

“A-Cheng’s.” He smiled as he started to bring the presents from the kitchen. Jiang Cheng prayed that his panic weren’t showing on his face nor his anxiety because his mind was running a mile per hour.

He was going to open the present and see how horrible it was that box of memories and they would break up. Maybe not now because of the fans, but once he started reading the letters and seeing how messed up he was, it would be an endgame. No one, being in their right mind, would stay after reading those letters. Before he could be totally swallowed by his traitorous mind, he heard a scream and someone throwing themselves at him, arms around his neck.

“Thank you!” Nie Huaisang screamed in his ear, pulling him against himself. “Thank you so much!” He sounded happy, but he was crying too.

“What the fuck, Huaisang? Are you crying?” He said, trying to look at his face where it was hidden on his neck. “Why are you-...” He started, before seeing the box sitting on his lap. “Oh.”

“A-Cheng.” He whined, looking up. “Look what you did to me. I’m crying like a baby.” The tears were falling two by two, big fat tears that he did not like to see on his face. “When did you buy it?”

“I made it.” He blurted out, focused on wiping the tears.

“What?” He blinked, sniffing loudly.

“I made it. I made most of the things in the box, including the box. The only things I bought were the fans, I still don’t know how to make fans like you.” He kept wiping the tears, putting his sleeve over his nose for him to blow. “You know I’m not good with handcrafted gifts but since it’s your birthday I tried.”

“I love you so much.” Nie Huaisang hugged him again while Wei Wuxian took the box from his legs and turned it on.

“What memory did you use?” He asked and, oh yeah, Jiang Cheng never told any of them what memory he was planning to use. He instructed MianMian to turn the light off, rearranging it on the small coffee table in the center.

“One from when me and Da-ge were younger.” Nie Huaisang answered as Nie Mingjue’s eyes filled with tears at recognition. “Best present ever.” He whispered, leaning on him with a small smile on his lips and watching as the memory came to life again. Jiang Cheng smiled down at him, passing an arm over his shoulders and watching as he told the story about how Nie Mingjue, who had many comments on how it was being told, almost had a heart attack when he was seventeen.

It was, indeed, the best present ever.

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besanii · 4 years ago

Note

Does Smugji sometimes wear that prize, either on his sword or on his person, to special occasions where he feels Wei Wuxian could use a reminder of that moment? Or does he keep it stashed away in his very neat, very Lan, and yet still dragony hoard? I like the thought of him displaying it like a knight at a joust displays his beloved's token of favor. To the blissfully in denial, it looks like a taunt. To the poor Jiang Chengs, it is a horny boast.

Extra 14: Matchmaking | previous parts here

[from Extra 12]

Wei Wuxian forces himself to sit and smile politely as the next suitor takes the seat opposite him at the table. He’s been here almost four hours now and the line doesn’t show any signs of shortening—in fact, he swears it’s growing. Beside him, Yu Ziyuan drums her fingers on the table to get his attention, before fixing him with a warning glare. He sighs.

“Hi, uh…” he squints. “Sorry, what’s your name again?”

“Su She,” his suitor replies with a smarmy little smile that sets Wei Wuxian’s teeth on edge.

Ah. The Snake Tribe. That explains a lot.

He cocks his head to the side and props his chin on one hand.

“How did you manage to get in here?” he asks, only half-curious to know. “I thought the Snake Tribe was cast from the Nine Heavens and not allowed back without summons.”

He bites back a yelp when Yu Ziyuan digs her nails into his thigh in warning. Across the table, Su She’s expression has darkened, but he remains committed to the smile on his face, even though it’s starting to look physically painful at this point. He’s got to hand it to him though—most people would have flipped out by now.

“I heard Xiao-dianxia likes music,” Su She says, changing the topic. “I have brought a copy of the rarest score in Moling’s collection as a gift to commemorate our first meeting.”

He lays a thin book on the table and pushes it towards Wei Wuxian, who barely spares it a glance before he sniffs.

“Moling’s collection?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “You mean the ones you were cast out of the Nine Heavens for stealing?”

“Wei Wuxian!” Yu Ziyuan snaps.

Su She’s face sours, his mouth twisted as though he’s eaten something particularly foul, but he remains seated. He must be really desperate for this to work if he’s still sitting here after Wei Wuxian’s insulted his tribe to his face twice. Unluckily for him, his very face makes Wei Wuxian’s teeth hurt and he’s not feeling very nice right now.

“Oh, did I hear incorrectly then?” he asks with feigned innocence, not even bothering to raise his chin from its perch on his hand. “That can’t be right. It was such a huge scandal not even a hundred years ago, even the common folk in Qing Qiu heard about it.”

Which is true. Everyone had been talking about it when it happened. How Su She of the Snake Tribe had stolen away copies of ancient texts from the Library Pavilion while he had been a guest and then took them back to his lair at Moling. Lan Qiren had flown into a rage that shook the Nine Heavens, and the entire Snake Tribe had subsequently been barred from entering their realm ever again. As for why it had happened in the first place, well…from the way Su She dressed all in white, to the way he styled his hair with a silver guan, it really wasn’t that hard to tell who he was trying to emulate.

Wei Wuxian wrinkles his nose at the thought. As if this lowly snake could ever hope to measure up to Lan Wangji’s magnificence!

Su She’s entire face has gone an ugly shade of puce and his shoulders are shaking in anger. Still, he stays put and plasters the smile to his face once again.

“A misunderstanding, Xiao-dianxia,” he says through clenched teeth. It’s a wonder how they haven’t fallen out yet with how hard he’s grinding them together. “The volume I present to you today is one of my own personal collection. In fact, I could play—”

He chokes in mid-sentence, eyes bulging and hands scrabbling at his throat. Behind him, the long line of suitors still waiting for their chance to meet Wei Wuxian break out into surprised gasps as one-by-one they sink into low bows.

"Er-dianxia,” they chorus.

“Huh?” Wei Wuxian says, confused. “Lan Zhan?”

Turning around in his seat, he’s met with the sight of Lan Wangji walking up behind him with a frosty expression on his handsome face, his amber eyes boring holes into Su She over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. Yu Ziyuan snorts derisively, pulling Wei Wuxian to his feet so they can greet Lan Wangji.

“What brings you here, Lan-er-dianxia?” she asks. “Surely not to join the line of suitors?”

Lan Wangji returns greeting with clipped politeness.

“Yu Ziyuan-shangshen,” he says. “I am here to see if Wei Ying is ready to leave.”

“Leave?” Yu Ziyuan repeats, glaring at Wei Wuxian. “Where? He still has suitors to meet and events to attend. He will not be available for the next few days.”

Days?! Wei Wuxian wails internally. Lan Zhan, save me!

“Begging your pardon, Shangshen,” Lan Wangji says with another short bow. “I had previously promised to take Wei Ying to see Fan Yin Valley the next time it reopened its borders. Today just so happens to be the only day for the next one hundred years.”

Wei Wuxian perks up. Fan Yin Valley? Oh, he’s always wanted to go there! Lan Wangji is so terribly clever to think of it as an excuse.

Yu Ziyuan looks unimpressed at his sudden enthusiasm, and irritable at Lan Wangji’s interruption.

“He will need to wait until this appointment is over,” she says, gesturing at Su She, who is starting to go purple from trying to break free of Lan Wangji’s silencing charm.

Lan Wangji inclines his head.

“Of course,” he replies calmly. He walks around to Wei Wuxian’s other side and takes the remaining seat at the table. “I am happy to wait.”

Yu Ziyuan stares at him wordlessly for a moment, struggling to find a reason to get him to leave. Wei Wuxian rejoices when she eventually folds her arms and sits back with a huff, glaring at out at the empty air over Su She’s head. Lan Wangji pours himself a cup of tea nonchalantly, supremely unconcerned by the daggers being bored through the side of his head through Su She’s eyes. As he raises the cup to his lips, a flash of colour at his wrist catches Wei Wuxian’s attention.

“Hey, isn’t that—” he starts to say, reaching out to make a grab for it. Lan Wangji grabs his wrist in mid-air before he can make contact though. “Lan Zhan! What is that?”

Lan Wangji hums and presses Wei Wuxian’s hand on the table, curling his own fingers around his to hold them still.

“A trinket,” he says, and tightens his grip when he feels Wei Wuxian’s fingers twitch. “Be good.”

Wei Wuxian pouts. But he wants to see!

He walks the fingers on his other hand slowly across his lap, inching towards Lan Wangji’s sleeve in tiny increments to avoid detection. His other hand is still pinned on the table while Lan Wangji casually sips his tea, but that’s okay. It’s not important. He just needs to get close enough to—

”Aha!” he shouts, pinching the edge of Lan Wangji’s sleeve and flipping it back over his wrist victoriously. “…Oh.��

There, wound neatly around Lan Wangji’s wrist and stretching down his forearm, is a very familiar red ribbon. It stands out against the plain white of Lan Wangji’s robes, a bright splash of colour that draws all eyes towards it; Wei Wuxian unconsciously reaches up to finger the matching ribbon in his own hair.

Why is Lan Wangji wearing his ribbon around his wrist? And in public!

Yu Ziyuan’s eyes are closed, her brows pinched together as if to ward off a headache. For once, Wei Wuxian doesn’t blame her. He wants to know what’s happening too! Lan Wangji calmly sets his cup back on the table, turning to Wei Wuxian expectantly.

“Wei Ying, are you ready to go?” he asks, completely ignoring the way Wei Wuxian’s face is starting to resemble the ribbon on his wrist. “The borders will not remain open for long, so we must not delay.”

He gets to his feet without waiting for a reply, pulling Wei Wuxian up with him by their still-joined hands, and bows to Yu Ziyuan.

“Shangshen, I apologise for the disruption,” he says. “We will take our leave now.”

Yu Ziyuan nods stiffly, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of this, Wei Wuxian,” she warns. “I am letting you go today out of respect for Lan-er-dianxia. But you will meet with every single one of your suitors when you return, do you hear me?”

Wei Wuxian bows his head.

“Yes, Yu-furen,” he mumbles reluctantly. Maybe he could convince Lan Wangji to let him stay in Fan Yin Valley for the next one, two hundred years until they all get tired of waiting for him and leave of their own accord. “Come on, Lan Zhan, let’s go!”

But Lan Wangji has turned instead to Su She, who looks about a second away from passing out, his mouth still sealed by the silencing charm.

“The Snake Tribe has been banished from the Nine Heavens,” he says, voice chilly. “Leave here at once. If you dare show your face here again, it will be taken as a declaration of war and treated accordingly.”

With that, he sweeps right past him with a wide-eyed Wei Wuxian in tow, the ribbon on his wrist on full display for the suitors still mingling around in the courtyard. They stare at the two of them with open-mouthed shock; Wei Wuxian gives them a cheeky little wave as they leave, and presses a little closer to Lan Wangji.

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” he whispers, tugging on his sleeve. “Are we really going to Fan Yin Valley? You’re not just saying that to get me out of this matchmaking thing right?”

“We’re going,” Lan Wangji assures him, smiling when Wei Wuxian hums happily and starts bouncing on his feet as they walk along the wide pathway.

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says as a sudden thought occurs to him. “Where did you get the ribbon from?”

Lan Wangji pauses in mid-step and turns. “You don’t remember?”

“Hmm…not really,” Wei Wuxian confesses, scratching his head. “Did I drop it somewhere? Why are you wearing it?”

One elegant eyebrow twitches.

“Think about it,” Lan Wangji tells him abruptly, and keeps walking.

“Hey!” Wei Wuxian protests, stumbling a couple of steps as he tries to keep up with the brisk pace.

What the hell? Why’s he suddenly getting all annoyed? If he could remember, would he even bother asking?

But Lan Wangji just keeps walking without elaborating, though the tips of his ears look a little pink. Or maybe it’s just a trick of the light. Wei Wuxian puffs out his cheeks and tugs on his sleeve again, sidling closer to his side.

“Lan Zhan.“ No response. “Lan-er-dianxia. Lan-er-gege…look at me?”

He beams when Lan Wangji finally spares him a glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Let’s take our time in Fan Yin Valley, okay?” he says. “You have to show me all the sights, and buy me all the food and souvenirs, okay? I don’t want to miss a single thing!”

He puts on his cutest expression, head tilted to the side, eyes wide and smile bright. It’s always worked on his parents and on Jiang Yanli, and from the way Lan Wangji’s expression softens, it works on him too. The hand still holding onto his tightens briefly as Lan Wangji hums, and Wei Wuxian’s heart skips a beat at the fondness in his voice.

“Whatever you want,” Lan Wangji says.

// buy me a ko-fi //

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jiangchengrights · 4 years ago

Text

i’d always been rigid before you

also available on ao3

The world around Wei Ying is a delightful shade of, of, fuck, what was it all the pretentious photography majors have told her? The one that’s all hazy orange and blurred edges. That makes everything feel old and fragile and romantic. The one Wei Ying likes best. It’s not black and white or the one on, on, dague-daguerreotype, but a-

“A calotype,” Wei Ying mumbles to herself, rubbing at her eyes as she stares at the ceiling from her spot on the ground. The world is only spinning a little bit, “Sepia!”

“Shut up, Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng throws at her, lacking all the heat it normally carries. Probably because he’s also fairly drunk. Makes him softer, like a cat. Wei Ying giggles to herself and reaches a hand out, wrapping warm fingers around Jiang Cheng’s ankle, pleased when he lets it rest there, “Did you order your food or not?”

“Oh!” she gasps, using his leg as support to claw her way up and into a sitting position, squinting one eye shut so she can focus on the tiny little words that light up her screen. Why were her letters so small? Why didn’t she set them to be big, like when she reset Jiang Fengimen’s for him? Absolute fool, she thinks to herself as she navigates the doordash app, hoping beyond hope that the app doesn’t crash while she’s ordering because she does not have the mental capacity to deal with that right now, “Yes!”

“Good, because if my order gets here before yours, I’m not sharing my fries with you,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, sounding absolutely put upon and yet, Wei Ying thinks smugly to herself, he doesn’t shake her off his leg. She counts that as a win.

“But didi,” she languishes, flopping across his feet dramatically, laughing when he nudges her just on the side of a kick, “I fully plan to share my pancakes with you!”

“I don’t want your pancakes, Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, “And you still can’t have my fries.”

She pouts and pouts and whines at the ceiling but gets no further response from Jiang Cheng besides a few grumbles and a grunted out question of horror or comedy? Her cheer of horror! is accepted and her glass is absolutely not refilled because obviously Jiang Cheng hates her. And of course his food does in fact get there first (probably because he’d ordered it a solid twenty minutes before she had even started looking at the iHop online menu but that is neither here nor there) but she does manage to steal an entire handful of fries from him and a sip of his coke because he loves her even if he pretends he doesn’t. Another victory.

She turns her pout towards her phone now, opening the doordash app to message her driver. She wants an ETA on her phone but she’s not willing to risk her food being spit on and she is very grateful that someone out there is willing to brave the cold to bring pancakes directly to her door so instead she opts for a completely casual and friendly, i love you ❤️

She doesn’t really expect a response, figures the doordash driver is busy or unwilling to talk or (hopefully) driving but her phone dings with the standard Hi, this is DoorDash connecting you to your Dasher for updates about your order. And then, I love you too.

She reads the message four times, mouthing the words to her screen with a heavy tongue before she throws her head back to laugh, feeling light and fuzzy because this stranger is playing along with her. She clicks back to her app to check the name of her driver and spends ten minutes tracing the letters on her screen that spell out Hanguang Jun.

Her food arrives with a perfunctory knock and she half stumbles her way to the door, fairly certain the floor is moving erratically beneath her just to slow her down. Even though she yells, “I’m coming, I’m coming, hold on!” (words nearly unintelligible with the way they stumble and slur out of her mouth) and she throws the door open with all her might, she doesn’t make it in time to see her dasher. She thinks she catches a glimpse of long shiny black hair, but really that could be a shadow.

She leaves a five star review on the dasher anyways, for being lovely.

The next day she slides into her seat in her criminology class, right at the front, 8AM sharp (8:08). The front row of class is, generally, not her favorite spot, especially in big auditoriums like this. She’d rather be somewhere in the upper middle, where she could sink low if she needed to but still be heard if she has questions or comments. Especially, especially, when she is hungover enough that her ice coffee does nothing to curb the throbbing in her head.

But.

But Lan Zhan likes to sit in the front row and Wei Ying likes to sit next to Lan Zhan. So. So she will suffer through her Professor’s half glare as she stumbles in late and slides into the (thankfully) empty seat next to her. Lan Zhan doesn’t bother looking at her, too busy jotting down little notes in her journal, watching the screen as the professor discusses a future class assignment. Wei Ying sets her drink down carefully and then continues to messily rifle through her bag in search of a scrap of paper and anything to write with and comes up remarkably short.

A carefully sharpened pencil and a neat, small, stack of notebook paper are pushed her way, even as Lan Zhan continues to look forward. It’s so small and stupid but it has Wei Ying grinning like a fool, leaning close enough into Lan Zhan’s shoulder to whisper, thank you, lan zhan, my hero. She’s fairly certain Lan Zhan mostly just tolerates her, but god, tolerates her in the nicest way possible.

She turns back around and listens for the rest of class. By “listen” she means she is secretly recording the lecture on her phone, which she will absolutely listen to later, and maintains half attention while also drawing a bunny on one of the sheets Lan Zhan gave her. She’s pretty certain bunnies are Lan Zhan’s favorite and so she is ever perfecting the art of drawing them; realistically, cartoon-esque, blocky orbs that mostly just look funny to Wei Ying herself, but in all ways she practices. This one looks pretty good, she decides halfway through class, and so she will give it to Lan Zhan when their professor finally stops talking.

(It crosses her mind that Lan Zhan might not appreciate the waste of her own paper but she hopes the cuteness of the bunny will make up for that)

She’s just adding the finishing touches to the piece when the professor wraps up class, the music of end of class clatter lighting up the room; laptops and notebooks being shut, zipped away safely in backpacks. Wei Ying has no such noise, being that none of the supplies on her desk are her own besides her mostly empty coffee cup. She turns to Lan Zhan without a second thought, tapping lightly on her shoulder, and smiling what her sister calls her “winning smile” (Jiang Cheng refers to it as her “shit eating grin” and that is why he is not her favorite sister. Although, he still holds the title for her favorite brother. Don’t tell him that) as Lan Zhan tilts her head gracefully in her direction.

“For you!” she half shouts, giddy like a small child, pressing the drawing into Lan Zhan’s notebook.

“Me?” Lan Zhan questions, brows furrowing just the slightest amount, enough for Wei Ying to have to fight the urge to reach out and smooth the lines that crinkle there. Her eyes widen, though, when she looks down and sees the bunny and god, oh my god, her lips pull up on one side in what is definitely a Lan-Zhan-smile. She is smiling and all because of Wei Ying.

“Bunny,” is all she says, sounding reverent as her fingers reach out to stroke the page, as if it might carry any of the real softness of rabbit fur.

This is the best day of Wei Ying’s life.

“I thought you liked them!” Wei Ying shouts, oblivious of the students who are trying to filter out of their seats around them. She leans to the side, so that her forehead touches Lan Zhan’s shoulder, just enough pressure to really feel each other and says, “Thank you for always taking care of me, Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan is stiff beneath her, but she nods anyways and then reaches out to carefully fold around the rabbit and place it safely in her notebook, humming as she does. She’s keeping it. When Wei Ying lifts her head off the girl’s shoulder, Lan Zhan fully turns to look at her, eyes scrutinizing everything from Wei Ying’s twisted ponytail to the bags under her eyes, “I am surprised Wei Ying is here today.”

“What!” Wei Ying squawks, “This is my favorite class!” this is my lan-zhan-class!

“Mn,” Lan Zhan nods, and then purses her lips when she catches sight of the coffee sweating on the corner of Wei Ying’s desk, “Wei Ying should drink more water.”

“Ahh, there you go again!” Wei Ying laughs, finally hefting her bag onto her shoulder and moving to stand up, “Always trying to take care of me!”

The tips of Lan Zhan’s ears turn tomato red and she doesn’t respond to that comment, so Wei Ying figures Lan Zhan’s tolerance for her up for the day. Ah, well, she had a good run today! Enough to hold her off until Wednesday (that is, unless she sees Lan Zhan walking around on campus between now and then. She’s never had very good self-control around Lan Zhan).

“I’ll see you on Wednesday, Lan Zhan!” she calls over her shoulder as she bounces her way out of the class. She’ll draw a better bunny on Wednesday, she’s sure, one good enough to make Lan Zhan look at her twice. She will.

She’s halfway through her jog on Tuesday when Wen Qing calls her. She answers the phone without bothering to stop running, much to the distaste of Wen Qing, who has to listen to her pant.

“We’re drinking tonight,” is how Wen Qing starts this conversation.

“Wow, hello to you too,” Wei Ying says through heavy breathes, just to be an asshole, “I’m good today, how are you?”

“I’m fucking shitty, why else would I be calling you up?” Wen Qing snaps, as though she doesn’t call Wei Ying minimum three times a week on top of lunch dates every Thursday.

“What happened?” Wei Ying asks, rounding the corner of the park and heading in a straight line towards her apartment complex.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Wen Qing says, sounding remarkably impatient for someone who started this phone call. And with Wei Wuxian of all people.

“Ah,” Wei Ying nods to herself, “So Mianmian then.”

“I didn’t say that!” Wen Qing snaps.

“Didn’t have to,” Wei Ying reminds her, coming to the flight of stairs that lead to her apartment, “I know of all your woes, Qing-jie.”

“You don’t know shit,” she hears from multiple angles.

“Are you already-” she begins asking, but cuts herself off when she reaches the top of the stairs and sees Wen Qing standing angrily outside her door, two bottles of Vodka in hand, “Alright then.”

“Just open the door, Wei Wuxian,” Wen Qing demands, stepping aside as Wei Ying comes closer, “I’m tired of holding these fucking bottles.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Wei Ying laughs, unlocking the door, “Make yourself comfortable.”

“You know I will.”

The world is once again hazy, less nice this time because her stomach still feels a little squirmy from the last hangover. She misses her recovery time from high school (read: no hangovers ever), now she’s just an old lady who can only drink, like, once a week. A tragedy.

Yet, here she is, on the floor once again because she seems to always end up on the floor when she’s drunk. It’s a nice spot; safe and big, big enough to spread her long limbs out wide.

“I want pancakes,” she says to the ceiling fan, expecting no response.

Instead she gets, “You already ordered your fucking pancakes, it’s not my fault you always take forever to actually order.”

“But Qing-jie!” she whines, rolling on her side to give Wen Qing her puppy dog eyes, “You got your food so quick and I’m still waiting.”

“Again, not my fault,” Wen Qing snaps before shoving an ungodly amount of burrito into her mouth, “Just message your driver to see where they’re at.”

“Oh yeah!!” she whips out her phone so fast it goes flying across the room and she has to crawl on her belly like a snake to get it. Her driver’s name is weird, Hanguang Jun, familiar even though it’s strange and... “It’s my driver from last Sunday!”

“Okay?” Wen Qing says around her burrito, rolling her eyes when Wei Ying waves her off.

u r my soulmate, she sends with zero hesitation, grinning when her phone buzzes almost immediately.

Hi, this is DoorDash connecting you to your Dasher for updates about your order. It says, yet again, and then, Really.

So dry, so cute! Wei Ying doesn’t know this person but she likes them already. The ability to play into her antics is not one possessed by everyone, so she will value it when she finds it, yes 😳

I am glad to know that, Hanguang Jun replies in an instant.

Wei Ying wants to play it really cool and really fun but she’s also absolutely starving and so she sends, what’s going on over there

A long line.

Then, because she decides she wants to go back to being fun she types out, its okay just hold on i cant wait to see u

I cannot wait to see you either.

And then Wei Ying just about dies and stays that way, arm thrown over her eyes and groaning like a fool on the vaguely dirty carpet of her apartment until she notices Wen Qing trying to fill her cup once again.

“Wen Qing, don’t drink all the Vodka!” she shouts right as there is a knock on the door and she jumps up, hoping if she hustles to the door she can see the illustrious Hanguang Jun this time. It’s a no-go, but she does find her food placed neatly on her doorstep with a small handwritten note that says For my soulmate.

So five stars once again.

She slides into her seat somehow even more haggard than on Monday and barely has time to look at Lan Zhan, sitting prim in her seat, hair straight and long, with a powder blue sweater over a white dress shirt and a short black skirt to match, long legs covered by black tights, before the other girl thrusts a huge water bottle her way.

“Drink,” Lan Zhan says by way of greeting, staring Wei Ying down until she hesitantly opens the bottle and takes a sip, smiling unsure when she pulls away.

“Lan Zhan?” she asks, screwing the cap back on slowly.

“Water is good for Wei Ying,” she states, turning away. Wei Ying stares at her for a second more and then nods, pulling out her now-found notebook with a smile.

“It’s almost like you care about me, Lan Zhan,” She whispers, smirking when she sees Lan Zhan’s fingers tighten around her pencil.

Lan Zhan doesn’t dignify that with a response, so she leaves it alone for now, tuning back to her own page to maybe take notes this class. Maybe.

Lan Zhan follows her out of class that day, lets Wei Ying latch onto her arm like a fool and chatter away as they mill about the crowds of other undergrad students. She hmms and mms at all the right moments and sometimes, very rarely but sometimes, she seems to cling back to Wei Ying as much as Wei Ying clings to her.

Wei Ying is a little in love.

Before she can do something stupid, like say that, Lan Zhan turns, and meets the eyes of Nie Mingjue, who looks smug and stern as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Lan Zhan’s eyes widen and she hastens to disentangle herself from Wei Ying’s grasp, taking a side step away.

“Hey isn’t that your brother’s best friend?” Wei Ying asks, but by the time she looks up Lan Zhan is gone, lost in the throng of people.

Wei Ying stands alone in the quad center as people mill around her, feeling lost and a little hurt by the sudden vanish of her friend, meeting Nie Mingjue’s pitying gaze only once before she hustles along to the buses.

Lan Zhan had done this in high school, too. Had run away from Wei Ying anytime someone significant came into view of them. Had shoved Wei Ying off and called her shameless and walked away from her without ever turning around. Wei Ying remembers a lot of Lan Zhan’s back, always walking away, always a little out of reach.

That was okay though, they were kids, still working through everything. Wei Ying always assumed it was just hormones or Lan Zhan working through her own inner gay crisis combined with Wei Ying’s own puberty induced irritatingness. She assumed that would stop now; they were adults and Lan Zhan had really come into her own and Wei Ying had calmed down ever so slightly. What did it matter if her brother saw her with Wei Ying? What could it hurt?

Just Wei Ying, it turns out. It could hurt Wei Ying.

Wei Ying spends maybe, slightly, too much money on food delivery. It’s just, she always wants food when she’s drunk and she’s very against drinking and driving and she never has the forethought to get food before she starts drinking so here she is.

Your driver is on their way! The app notifies her and only then does she remember to check who is picking the food up for her, squealing when she sees the name.

Hanguang jun!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hi, this is DoorDash connecting you to your Dasher for updates about your order. She gets and then, Yes.

its u again!!!

Hanguang Jun: It is me.

Wei Ying: u r the love of my life

Hanguang Jun: I thought I was your soulmate?

Wei Ying: r u saying u cant be both 🥺

Hanguang Jun: I can be whatever you need.

That has Wei Ying blushing from head to toe in her thankfully empty apartment. She has to take a moment to breathe before she can reply with, ah so smooth hanguang jun

There is a brief pause, one that has Wei Ying waiting, staring at her phone with a too cheesy smile on her face, Mn. For you.

She squeals in excitement so loud she almost misses the knock on the door. It's distracting enough to slow her down, so still no sight of Hanguang Jun tonight. Their chat disconnects but it’s okay, there will be a next time.

(Wei Ying hopes there will be a next time).

Rate your dasher: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Wei Ying’s criminology class is not a small class. Small classes have order and structure; you get to know your fellow classmates and an informal seating chart begins to appear usually after the second week of class. This one, however, is set in a wide auditorium that fills with too many students to even know any of them, who always seem to be moving around, always in new spots. Which is why it continually surprises Wei Ying that her spot is always empty and waiting for her when she stumbles in ten minutes late. She voices this out loud only to receive an eye roll from Lan Zhan.

“It is Wei Ying’s spot,” is all she says, turning forward once again. And it is her spot but that’s not the point of Wei Ying’s argument, now is it?

“Hmph,” she sighs to herself, digging around in her bag until she finds the two bunny pens she had purchased this weekend on a whim at some novelty store. They’re both silicone smooth, with rounded bunny heads on the end and ears that extend maybe a bit too far. She pushes the black one onto Lan Zhan’s desk and whispers, “That one is for you.”

“For...me?” Lan Zhan asks, lips parting as she looks down at the pen in her hand and then back up at Wei Ying, the hint of a smile in her cheeks.

“Of course! You’re my favorite Lan Zhan, who else would I buy a pen for?” she says back, feeling utterly pleased with herself to have gained such a positive reaction, wiggling closer in her seat to press her arm against Lan Zhan, “You’re my favorite.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls, not quite a whisper, but soft and intense, one of her hands reaching out to grab at Wei Ying’s own. Wei Ying is delighted to find the other girl has rough calluses on the tips of her fingers that scrape gently against her knuckles, “Thank you.”

“Lan Zhan, ah, it’s no big deal, really,” she whispers, suddenly shy, using her free hand to rub at the back of her neck, “I was just thinking about you, you know?”

Lan Zhan stares at her for just a beat too long, before she pulls away entirely. Before Wei Ying can panic, though, she neatly puts her original pen away and picks up the bunny pen, smiling down at her notebook as she writes her notes, trying to hide the biggest smile Wei Ying has ever seen from the other girl.

She’s so warm next to Wei Ying and she never looks like she even considers switching away from the bunny pen even though it's surely not as nice as the gel one she’d been using before. When the professor dismisses them a mere minute and a half before their class is scheduled to end, Wei Ying finds herself in a panic, desperate not to let Lan Zhan slip away just yet.

“Hey,” she says, one hand reaching out lightning fast to grasp Lan Zhan’s elbow, “Do you want to get coffee?”

Lan Zhan frowns, goes to open her mouth but doesn’t manage to get a single sound out before Wei Ying half shouts, “Tea! Tea! I know you like tea instead of coffee, let’s get tea, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan stares at her long enough that Wei Ying begins to squirm in her seat, words on the tip of her tongue to take it all back, rescind her existence entirely when Lan Zhan asks, “Wei Ying...knows I like tea?”

“Well, yes,” Wei Ying nods, hoping this doesn’t make her seem like she’s been paying too much attention to Lan Zhan, “It’s just, you never bring coffee to class, always tea. So, I just, like, assumed. But, tea?”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says, “Let’s get tea.”

So they get tea in what is the best and most excruciating forty five minutes of Wei Ying’s entire life. Lan Zhan sits across from her with the poise and beauty of a marble statue, sharp lines carved from stone only to be softened when she laughs at Wei Ying’s silliness. She steeps jasmine tea in a teacup and bats it around with a spoon, slow, careful, sure enough in her practiced movements that Wei Ying finds herself enraptured, watching those fingers with a single minded focus. She’s never been enraptured by tea before. She doesn’t even really like tea.

They sit close enough that their knees brush every once in a while, whenever Lan Zhan recrossses her legs and it's enough to send sparks up Wei Ying’s leg, through her sweatpant clad knee. It is the best feeling in the world, she’s sure. And yet, also a special kind of hell to sit here, next to a Goddess and not be able to reach out and touch, to ask for more.

She wishes Lan Zhan wanted more.

But, she’ll take friendship and tea over nothing, so she keeps her complaints to herself and regails Lan Zhan with every funny story she can think of, preening when Lan Zhan smiles at her.

“I had to explain to my professor the entire concept of Star Trek, Lan Zhan. Like I had to sit there in this highly academic room and be all well you see, sir, the entire doctrine of the Prime Directive contradicts everything he just said so that’s really not a suitable analogy to make. And I’m not even the one who brought it up!” she half yells, throwing her hands up in exasperation, “Now I’m the one who looks like some kind of scifi nerd to our professor!”

“Hmm,” Lan Zhan hums, blowing into the steam of her tea, “Wei Ying has seen Star Trek though?”

“Well, yes.”

“A lot of it?”

“I mean, what do you consider a lot? That’s very subjective, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying smiles, working around the statement just to be coy, just to see the faint amusement that lights up Lan Zhan’s eyes.

“Wei Ying.”

“I may or may not have seen all of it, but that is so not the point!” Wei Ying counters, pointing her finger at Lan Zhan just to make her point.

“It seems then,” Lan Zhan starts, taking a sip of her tea, thoroughly uncowed, “that Wei Ying is some kind of ‘scifi nerd.’”

“Lan Zhan!” she squawks, throwing a hand over her heart in faux hurt, “I have never felt more betrayed than in this moment, more hurt, more wounded, more heartbroken.”

“Mn, Wei Ying has had it easy then,” Lan Zhan nods, tracing the rim of her teacup with the tip of her finger, “Someone has to make it more difficult for her. What did you say earlier? It ‘builds character’?”

“Lan Zhan!” she squeezes the hand over her heart more intensely, sighing long and winded, “How could you do this to me, Lan Zhan, your dearest Wei Ying?”

Lan Zhan’s eyes move from roaming over Wei Ying’s face, to glance over her shoulder, widening slightly at whatever she sees. She stands without another word, fumbles with her wallet to drop a note on the table and says, “I must leave now, Wei Ying.”

Lan Zhan leaves without a second glance, turning away from the front entrance which is a much straighter shot out of the cafe and onto the main street, to quite literally sneak out of the side door, that leads only to an alley and a trash can. Wei Ying stares after her, shocked mostly, until she hears the front bell chime. She turns to see a man walk in with dark silky hair, wide shoulders, and well tailored clothes set in a deep blue that compliments his skin perfectly. He wears a warm smile and allows the smaller man next to him to walk ahead, a hand rested firmly but respectfully on the small of his back.

Lan Xichen.

Ah, Wei Ying thinks to herself as it dawns on her, spinning around the spoon in her tea idly, feeling brittle and cracked all at once, she just didn’t want to be seen with me in front of her brother.

That’s fine, it really is. So maybe nothing has really changed since high school. They weren’t friends then and they aren’t now, not really. Wei Ying was foolish to ever get her hopes up for anything more. She 100% understands. She is loud, and talks with her mouth full, and once almost got kicked out of university just a little bit. She should have expected this, if she was being honest with herself.

She still can’t manage to bring the smile back to her face though.

She manages an entire three days of being sad and not drunk before Wen Ning waltzes into her apartment unannounced (when he got a key she will never know) and plies her with long island iced teas.

“She’s just so nice, A-Ning,” Wei Ying moans, face down on the floor, “She’s so nice and pretty, god she’s so pretty A-Ning, and she’s always wearing these skirts, her legs are to die for.”

“But she did not want to be seen with you?” Wen Ning clarifies from where he sits, perched on her couch, leaning over to place another drink next to her head.

“No,” Wei Ying whimpers again, sounding absolutely miserable. She knows she might be acting a bit over dramatic, it's just, she’s known Lan Zhan since she was fourteen, had followed her around then, berating her until she got a reaction. And maybe that had been nothing more than a nuisance to Lan Zhan but it had meant a lot to Wei Ying. Too much probably. She had cried actual tears of joy when she discovered they had both enrolled at the same university, that first semester on campus. And sure maybe they weren’t best friends of anything but Lan Zhan was one hundred percent Wei Ying’s sexual awakening.

And Wei Ying just might be a little, tiny bit in love with her. Or like, on the road to being in love. Very close. In need of only a few kind words and maybe for Lan Zhan to kiss her.

“Hey,” Jiang Cheng snaps from the other side of the room, like actually snaps his fingers at her until she lifts her head to look at him, “Listen, you stupid little peabrain. Stop thinking with your dick and start thinking with your head.”

“I don’t have a dick,” she complains, rubbing her cheek into the carpet, “Maybe if I did, Lan Zhan would be less embarrassed of me.”

That earns her a pillow thrown straight at her head, “Peabrain! If she doesn’t want to be seen with you, that’s not nice.”

“But-”

“Being pretty doesn’t make her nice!”

“She-”

“Having nice legs doesn’t make her nice!”

“But she is nice!” Wei Ying shouts, pushing herself up enough to sit as she stares angrily down at Jiang Cheng, “She lets me sit next to her in class, and smiles when I give her bunnies, and puts up with me whispering to myself while the teacher talks and-”

“All I hear is puts up with and lets me, Wei Wuxian, that’s not what nice is!” Jiang Cheng shouts right back, glaring at her the whole time, “You should waste your time on someone who is actually nice to you.”

“I am.”

“Would you ever let me date someone who was ashamed of me, Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng asks, face serious as he leans in closer to her, “I’m your didi, would you let someone treat me like that? Would you let me treat me like that?”

She doesn’t have a response for that so she lays in silence, staring at the blades of the ceiling fan that spin around and around and around.

“Maybe she is very nice, Wei Ying,” Wen Ning interjects, breaking the silence, reaching one hand out to pet Wei Ying’s hair, “But maybe Wei Ying should be nice to herself too. Do you feel good right now? Have you been nice to yourself?”

“You don’t understand and I don’t want to talk to either of you anymore,” Wei Ying pouts and lets herself drop back to the floor, curling on her side around her phone, “And I just want my fucking pancakes.”

She checks her order status and lo and behold, there they are again. Hanguang Jun.

hanguang jun will u be my wife, she asks and then doubles back, im a lesbian.

Hi, this is DoorDash connecting you to your Dasher for updates about your order. She gets and then, Yes.

yes ull b my wife or yes im a lesbian

Hanguang Jun: Yes, I will be your wife.

thats great!!!!!!! Wei Ying sends back, with exactly the right amount of exclamation points, smiling into her phone screen, hey now that we r married will u stay at my door long enough for me to c u

Hanguang Jun: Hm. Are you intoxicated?

hanguang jun what kind of ? is that!!!!! of course i am!!!! why else do people get food delivered!!!!

Hanguang Jun: For many reasons. If you make it to the door fast enough, you will see me.

hanguang jun!!!!!!!

This time, the knock is a barely there tap that Wei Ying is absolutely sure is on purpose and despite picking herself up and essentially running to the door, she still only manages to catch a glimpse of long hair and a blue shirt.

She opens her food in miserable silence, only breaking out of her gloom when she sees the little note: For my wife. written on the lid of the box. She lets herself focus on that instead of the crushing reality of Lan Zhan’s embarrassment of her, smiling every time she shoves a too big bite of pancake into her mouth.

Rate your dasher: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Monday roles around too soon and the next thing Wei Ying knows, she’s skulking into her criminology class exactly twelve minutes late, staring at the empty seat next to Lan Zhan. The thing is, the fresh sting of it all has soothed into a deep ache, more bearable to wear in public. Now she just finds it all awkward. Like, it’s awkward to just all the sudden ditch out on Lan Zhan and try to find some other non-shitty seat somewhere else, right? But it's also awkward to sit next to Lan Zhan when it seems Lan Zhan doesn’t want that, not really, not publicly.

The walk into the classroom is too short to solve any of these problems, so she just slides into her usual seat, carefully keeping her face forward, keeping to her own space instead of spilling out into the seat over to brush against Lan Zhan. Which is. Fine.

She takes studious notes and never once lets her eyes waver to the seat next to her. It takes a lot of mental energy. When the class is over, she doesn’t bother digging her stuff back into her bag, her only thoughts on how to get out of there as fast as she can, gathering them all into a messy pile in her arms and standing before the professor has even said goodbye.

“Wei Ying,” a quiet voice says next to her, a gentle reaching out to cup the ball of her elbow. Wei Ying takes a single deep breath and turns back around with a hopefully believable smile on her face. The black bunny pen is laid haphazardly across Lan Zhan’s notes. She was still using the pen. Ah, Lan Zhan is so nice, Wei Ying thinks to herself even as she feels her bottom lip wobble dangerously.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, I’m kind of in a rush today, okay? Gotta get going!” she chirps, looking anywhere but the steady hand that still hold her arm. Lan Zhan stares up at her, trying to meet her eyes, sighing when she seems to realize Wei Ying has no intention of looking away from the floor.

“Okay, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan sighs again, letting go of her arm to fold her hands properly across her lap, “I will see you on Wednesday.”

“Yeah, totally, for sure,” Wei Ying chants and skids out of the aisle as fast as she possibly can, never once looking back. She doesn’t see Lan Zhan watch her leave, a tiny confused frown painting her lips.

This time, Wei Ying isn’t even the one to make the first move. She doordashes chocolate and gatorade and mini donuts from the nearest gas station and decides to sulk on her couch until it arrives (and ignore the paper she should be writing. She has time though, it’s not due for another 43 hours).

Her phone chimes from where it rests on the couch next to her, revealing a doordash message.

Hi, this is DoorDash connecting you to your Dasher for updates about your order.

Hanguang Jun: Are you drinking at 10:30 in the morning?

is that judgement i hear, Wei Ying responds, snorting a laugh as she does. Hanguang Jun might just be a fuddy duddy.

Hanguang Jun: We are speaking through an instant messaging service. You do not hear anything.

potato tomato, Wei Ying responds, just to be difficult and then a quick, also no im not drinking im just sad

The pause after this is long, stretching out enough that Wei Ying sets her phone down entirely and turns her attention back to the shitty soap opera she was watching, when the phone dings again.

Hanguang Jun: Why are you sad?

hanguang jun so invasive! She responds with a laugh, adding, i guess u r my wife now it is ur right to know

Hanguang Jun: Mn. Have to keep track of you.

hanguang jun! Wei Ying would yell if they were talking in person. Hell, she yells now into the fabric of her pillow, ur making me blush

Hanguang Jun: Good.

anyways, Wei Ying directs, because it seems otherwise they’ll just keep going in a circle of Wei Ying blushing and Hangunag Jun being, well, whatever it is they are being, there is a girl.

Hanguang Jun: A girl?

a perfect girl. the best, most beautiful girl, way out of my league, Wei Ying explains, hoping that with this fresh new person she can convey just how wonderful Lan Zhan is, seeing as how that didn’t go over well with Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning (although, Wei Ying is pretty sure Jiang Cheng has hated Lan Zhan since high school, she’s just not ready to unpack that yet), but she doesnt like me back. or like at all really i dont think she even wants to be friends with me

Hanguang Jun: You are sure of this?

yes!!!! Wei Ying sends back, rapid fire, she presents all of the wei-ying-is-annoying vibes

Hanguang Jun: And what, exactly, are the ‘Wei Ying is annoying vibes’?

well thats just too much to answer theres so many, Wei Ying, sinking deeper and deeper into the crest of her couch; this conversation is definitely not making her feel better the way she hoped it would.

Hanguang Jun: Hm. This seems unlikely.

unlikely????

Hanguang Jun: Mn. Wei Ying is a delight to be around, impossible to dislike her.

hanGUANG JUN

Hanguang Jun: Then how do you expect someone to show they like you? Romantically speaking.

oh thats easy, she types, thinking about the things she wants Lan Zhan to say to her, just ask me to get food really. im always down for food i think its a good first date, so if i say no to that i definitely dont like u lol

Hm, is all Hanguang Jun has left to say so Wei Ying goes back to being sad on her couch and dutifully waits for her cool blue gatorade and kitkat bar, not even bothering to run to the door when she hears the knock. She’s fairly positive Hanguang Jun isn’t planning on waiting around for her anyways. She still rates her five stars though; doesn’t want to fuck up her rating or whatever.

She repeats her routine, slinking into class late and trying her very hardest not to be a nuisance to Lan Zhan, leaning in the opposite direction and keeping her elbows to herself. Better to not annoy the other girl anymore than she already has. She thinks back to the beginning of the semester, when she’d draped herself all over Lan Zhan, happy and sure of herself, only now all she hears over the memory is Lan Zhan’s voice, angry and disappointed as she calls Wei Ying shameless.

Wei Ying does, in fact, have shame. A lot of it. Too much of it. Enough to keep her quiet and complacent for the hour and twenty minutes she must sit beside Lan Zhan knowing well enough the other girl doesn’t even respect her enough to be seen with her in public.

She tries to slip out of class as quickly as possible but there is Lan Zhan’s hand again, shooting out to grab her and pull her back.

“Wei Ying,” she says, eyebrows furrowing in that way they always do when she’s stressed about something. It takes all of Wei Wuxian’s restraint to not reach out and soothe the taught skin there back into place. Would Lan Zhan like that? Be okay with Wei Ying touching her like that in front of everyone? “I would like to ask you a question.”

“Oh,” Wei Ying nods to herself, fingers digging into the notebook she holds tight against her chest, “Is it about the homework? Ah, Lan Zhan you know you’re better at this than I am anyways.”

“It is not about the homework, no,” Lan Zhan shakes her head, looking solemn, shoulders drawn up as she rises from her seat, her bag resting over her shoulder, neatly packed up like she’s geared up to make a quick getaway too, “Would you like to get pancakes with me?”

Even the word makes her sweat. All the nights she’s spent eating pancakes (they’re her go to drunken craving) only to throw up the surgery sweetness later, to feel it twisting around in her alcohol burned stomach, acid and sugar making her raw and dizzy and nauseated; so good when she’s eating them under an alcohol induced haze and utterly ruined for her when she’s sober.

“Oh,” she says, shaking her head, “No, I don’t like pancakes.”

Wei Ying’s mouth is still open, about to suggest a different option, when Lan Zhan’s whole face shutters in a range of emotions Wei Ying can’t dare to name, and ends in smooth porcelain, eyes no longer meeting Wei Ying’s own, but staring past her likes she burns to look at.

“I see,” Lan Zhan says in a tone so flat, Wei Ying feels a little hysterical, what does she see what does she see, “Goodbye, Wei Ying.”

Lan Zhan is out of the classroom before Wei Ying can grab her, though she calls to her long after she loses sight of Lan Zhan’s baby blue scrunchy, lost in the crowd of undergrads milling about, always in Wei Ying’s way.

Lan Zhan had looked at her like Wei Ying had said exactly what she’d feared only that didn’t make sense. How could Wei Ying have let her down when Lan Zhan had no hopes for her to begin with?

She drinks with Nie Huaisang that night and orders food and some random named Athony delivers it to her. She doesn’t opt to message him.

She only eats half of her pancakes, feeling incredibly abandoned and incredibly lonely.

On Monday she gets to class early. Like actually early, as in fifteen minutes before the class is even scheduled to begin, not just on time. It’s a first for her and she’s very proud. She’d hoped that Lan Zhan wouldn’t be there yet, that she could set up her stuff in peace and then when Lan Zhan came into the classroom she could see where Wei Ying was and decide if she wanted to sit next to her or not. She’d looked so upset on Wednesday, afterall.

But, of course, Lan Zhan is already there.

She looks gorgeous from where she sits, posture straight, perfect, shoulders drawn back making her look confident. Untouchable. Her makeup is lightly done and perfectly applied, lips shiny with tinted chapstick, notebook ready on her desk, bunny pen laid gently on top of that. And in the spot next to her, Wei Ying’s seat, rests her bag, taking up the entirety of the table, a warning to all intruders.

Wei Ying walks up extra slowly, trying to determine whether or not she is welcome, tiptoeing her way down the aisle, hoping Lan Zhan won’t look at her, hoping she will.

“Is this seat taken?” she asks, her voice nothing more than a whisper, not loud enough for others to hear, ready to be hurt.

“It is Wei Ying’s seat,” Lan Zhan replies instead, keeping her eyes on the ground even as her hand reaches out to pull it out of Wei Ying’s way. This is the first time Wei Ying has seen it up close, has gotten to see the little cloud patterns, the letters embroidered into the fabric, spelling out, h a n g u -

Hanguang Jun.

Hanguang Jun!!!

“Hanguang Jun?” she blurts out before she can stop herself, “You, you’re...”

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan asks, only now looking up at her, that same confused furrow to her brow, “It is my nickname, from high school, from the-”

“From the volleyball team,” Wei Ying nods with dawning horror, “You are you, do you, Lan Zhan, was that you the whole time?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, nods to herself really, as if the simple act of saying her name provided comfort, “I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t, I thought, I didn’t know,” she finishes lamely, feeling her cheeks burn as she thinks back to all the things she had sent to Hanguang Jun. She looks down at the bag to keep her eyes focused elsewhere and remembers, “Hey it’s on my desk.”

“Yes?” Lan Zhan replies, though it feels like more of a question.

“Have you been saving me a seat this whole time? Is that how I managed to get a good seat this whole semester, even though I was late everyday?”

Lan Zhan’s ears go red, stark against the black hair tucked behind them, but she nods firmly, unashamed, “It is Wei Ying’s seat.”

“You, you actually, you wanted me to sit next to you?” Wei Ying asks, feeling only halfway hysterical, “I didn’t force myself on you? You’re not embarrassed to be seen with me?”

Lan Zhan’s frown deepens at this, angry, “Could never be embarrassed of Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan-” Wei Ying begins, only to be cut off by their professor.

“Everyone, please take a seat,” Professor Whoever The Hell says, making eye contact with Wei Ying and she sits down, utterly stunned.

“Lan Zhan,” she whispers when he turns around, “Can we talk after class?”

Lan Zhan looks at her for a long time then, calculating, assessing, before nodding her head with a firm, “Mn.”

Before either of them can escape, Wei Ying tangles her fingers with Lan Zhan’s and drags her out of the class behind her, pulling her into a little alcove surrounded by trees with little dangly purple flowers. It would be pretty on any other day when Wei Ying doesn’t feel like she’s about to burst out of her rib cage.

“Lan Zhan, it was you the whole time?” she asks again, still a little dazed from that realization.

“Yes, Wei Ying,” she nods, still hiding her eyes from Wei Ying, “Was certain you knew, thought you were...”

“You thought I was??” Wei Ying urges, a hand reaching out for Lan Zhan before she can stop herself.

“Thought you were flirting with me,” Lan Zhan admits, in nothing louder than a whisper, shaking her head as she does, “It is stupid.”

“It wasn’t!” Wei Ying half shouts, throwing her hands in the air, “It wasn’t, it wasn’t, Lan Zhan, I promise.”

“You did not know it was me, and...” Lan Zhan trails off again, wringing her hands together in front of her. It is the most unsure of herself Wei Ying has ever seen her; it breaks her heart just to watch.

“And what? Lan Zhan, you have to tell me,” Wei Ying all out begs, gasping when Lan Zhan’s eyes finally raise to meet her own; they’re red rimmed and miserable.

“Wei Ying said no,” she says after a long while, lips twisting in a grimace, “Wei Ying said no to food, so she definitely doesn’t like me.”

“I didn’t say no to you!” Wei Ying shouts, loud enough to attract the attention of passersby, “I said no to pancakes, not you!”

“Wei Ying, please, do not patronize me,” Lan Zhan resists, eyes hardening even though she is still clearly sad. God, how could Wei Ying have missed how sad she was? “I have been delivering pancakes to Wei Ying for weeks.”

“That’s exactly it!” Wei Ying rushes out, one hand shooting out to wrap around Lan Zhan’s wrist like she’s afraid the other girl might run away, “That’s what drunk me eats! And I always, always get sick, Lan Zhan! I can’t eat them when I’m sober, I’ll puke!”

“You...don’t like pancakes,” Lan Zhan repeats, working the words around her mouth like she’s trying to make sense of them, “But you do like...me.”

“Yes! Lan Zhan I like you so much! And I would’ve asked you out sooner!” she shouts again, and then realizes where she’s led this conversation. The shame burns in her cheeks so she focuses on digging the tip of her shoe into the ground, “I would’ve asked you out, but I thought you were embarrassed to be seen with me.”

The words still taste bitter in her mouth, ache in her throat and burn her cheeks but she’s said them, they’re out in the open and now they can deal with them. She expects a scoff, maybe an eye roll. She does not expect two soft hands to cup her cheeks, forcing her to look up, rubbing soothing circles into the skin there.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan scolds, “Could never be embarrassed of you. Wei Ying is...Wei Ying is everything.”

“But you, you hid. From your brother and Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue, because you were,” her mouth twists uncomfortably at this, the memory of being abandoned in the cafe fresh enough to hurt her feelings, “because you were with me.”

“Ah,” Lan Zhan says, the tips of her ears turning red again. Good, Wei Ying thinks, We can be embarrassed together, “That was not...because of you, more like...about you.”

“Huh?”

“Brother is...he likes...” Lan Zhan trails off, letting one of her hands drop from Wei Ying’s cheek to her neck and Wei Ying is not about to let her get away just like that so she reaches out her own hand, grabbing onto Lan Zhan’s hip and dragging her closer. This seems to make Lan Zhan release all of her tension at once; a full body shudder goes through her as she dives into the crevice of Wei Ying’s neck, hiding there, safe, and mumbles something completely unintelligible.

“What was that, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks, petting a single hand down Lan Zhan’s back through her hair and up again.

“Brother likes to tease,” Lan Zhan breathes into Wei Ying’s skin, one hand digging tight into Wei Ying’s ribcage, “He knows of my...feelings for you, if he had seen us at the cafe he would have, and Wei Ying I was sure you didn’t, there was no...reciprocation.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you hid because you didn’t want to get teased?” Wei Ying laughs, delighted, as she pulls back from Lan Zhan to get a good look at her, eyes sparkling, “Lan Zhan, that’s so cute.”

Lan Zhan dives back into her shoulder and bites in retaliation, muttering, “Wei Ying is cuter.”

Wei Ying lets her stay there for awhile, petting her hair and wiggling as close as she can get before finally asking, “Hey, you wanna get some food with me?”

Lan Zhan draws back to look over Wei Ying’s face and must like what she sees there because she smiles and presses a half kiss to the corner of Wei Ying’s mouth and nods her head, “Only if Wei Ying will be my girlfriend.”

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan, didn’t I already propose to you?” Wei Ying laughs, laughs even louder when Lan Zhan blushes again. She wags her finger in Lan Zhan’s face, trying her best to look stern, “Don’t think you can back out of our marriage so soon, wife.”

Lan Zhan bites her finger and keeps it there, warm between her teeth, only digging in harder at Wei Ying’s cry of indignation.

“Lan Zhan, you monster, you monster,” Wei Ying laughs, wiggling her finger still on the inside of Lan Zhan’s lips, “Hey, Lan Zhan, you should let go of my finger.”

“Hm.”

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, I can’t kiss you with my finger in the way,” she whines, even as Lan Zhan lets go and moves forward, “Would you deprive your poor wife like this? I waited so long for you-”

Lan Zhan, it turns out, tastes like strawberry chapstick.

Four Months Later

Wei Ying wakes up warm and sated, a leg thrown over her waist, a hand slipped inside her shirt, resting casually against the skin of her back, a heavy body breathing softly, rhythmically against her chest.

The moon is still high in the night sky, washing the room in pale silver-white light, turning the skin on Lan Zhan’s neck into cream sheets, soft beneath Wei Ying’s touch. She’s breathing out little huffs of air, dampening the collar of Wei Ying’s sleep shirt but Wei Ying could never find it within herself to complain. Not when she gets this; Lan Wangji safe and content in her bed, never hesitant, never ashamed to pull Wei Ying into her chest and hold her there for hours. To hold Wei Ying as close as she can, like she’s something special. Something important.

Wei Ying still can eat sober pancakes, she muses as she rubs slow circles into Lan Zhan’s shoulder, thinking about what they’ll eat in the morning when Lan Zhan inevitably drags her out of bed way too early to be considered normal, seat her at their table still wrapped in a blanket, and feeds her warm foods and coffee.

There are other foods to be eaten though, a never ending list of things to be enjoyed with Lan Zhan right there beside her.

“Hey, Lan Zhan, I’m really glad you brought me pancakes,” Wei Ying whispers, dragging one of her legs up to slot nicely between Lan Zhan’s, “And I’m glad you make me eggs and congee and potatoes when I’m not drunk.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t reply to this, obviously, still huffing peacefully against Wei Ying’s chest. She starts again, rubbing circles into Lan Zhan’s back, “Hey, Lan Zhan, I’m glad you’re not embarrassed of me. I’m glad you let me kiss you even if your brother is around.”

She presses a kiss to the top of Lan Zhan’s head then rubs her nose against the hair there, still smelling fresh with shampoo.

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers to the ceiling, knowing it is well past Lan Zhan’s bedtime and she’s not usually one to sleep in fits and starts, “Lan Zhan, I love you.”

Lan Zhan’s face rubs against Wei Ying’s chest like a cat, lips catching on the fabric of Wei Ying’s shirt when she whispers back, “I love you too.”

(Wei Ying still gets drunk pancakes. She saves a minor fortune on never using the app again though; instead she lets Lan Zhan wrangle her into the passenger seat of her car, buckled in and safe, while Lan Zhan drives them to the local iHop. She lets Lan Zhan manhandle her into a booth and feed her bits of pancake and fruit, never too much, never enough to make her sick the way she would have had she been on her own. Lan Zhan always takes such good care of her; these pancakes taste better than any Wei Ying has ever had in her life.)

Coda:

“Hey, Lan Zhan, isn’t your family, like, rich?” Wei Ying asks, swinging their threaded hands in between them as they march to the nearest cafe, both of them glowing in the sunlight, happy, “Why were you running for DoorDash in the first place?”

“My family is well off,” Lan Zhan confirms politely, all while Wei Ying thinks to herself Yes, exactly what a rich person would say, “But there are things my Uncle does not approve of, and for that I prefer to use my own money so that he does not have a place to stand in telling me no.”

“Lan Zhan, how devious!” Wei Ying delights, leaning in to press an excited kiss to Lan Zhan’s cheek, “So what’d you get? Something cool? Dirty? Lavish? Tell me, Lan Zhan!”

“Bunnies,” Lan Zhan replies, cheeks speckled soft pink.

“Bunnies?” Wei Ying asks, head cocked to the side.

“Bunnies,” Lan Zhan confirms, nodding her head, “Uncle does not approve of pets but I approve of having bunnies and wanted two of my own.”

“Lan Zhan, stop, I’m going to die of cuteness,” Wei Ying whines, burying her face into Lan Zhan’s shoulder to moan more properly.

“Your repeat business helped to adopt them and purchase their housing,” Lan Zhan continues on because she is mean and has no sympathy for Wei Ying’s plight.

“Them? As in multiple?”

“Mm,” Lan Zhan nods, fishing her phone out of her pocket, “Their names are Fluffball and Pancake, would you like to see?”

“Would I like to, oh my god,” Wei Ying shouts, looking at a picture of Lan Zhan cuddled up with two rabbits, looking soft and content. One of them is snowy white, tail big and bushy, like a little snowball in and of itself. She guesses that one is Fluffball. The other is light brown, slightly bigger than the last and very, how does she nicely put this, round. That one must be Pancake. Wei Ying is absolutely not ready to guess the implication of the bunny being named Pancake. She is going to die, “Lan Zhan, I am going to die. You’re going to kill me. How are you so cute?”

“Wei Ying will be fine,” Lan Zhan reassures, placing a hand on the small of her back to lead Wei Ying along, “Promise to keep Wei Ying safe.”

“Lan Zhan!”

#wangxian #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan zhan #lan wangji #fem wangxian #rule 63 #modern setting #wen qing #wen ning #jiang cheng #my writing #my fics #jiangchengrights

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ibijau · 4 years ago

Text

jc/nhs/lxc get drunk, talk about stuff, and cuddle

finally kicked my ass into finishing this, because today sucks and I needed a little softness. Also available on AO3.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nie Huaisang knocked on the door.

“Xichen-gege? It’s Huaisang.”

There was only silence in answer to this call. Already Jiang Cheng was smirking in triumph, looking ready to gloat that of course, everything would be exactly as awful as he had expected. Before he could say anything, Nie Huaisang knocked again, a little louder this time.

“Come on, Xichen-gege. Let’s talk? I think we have a lot to chat about.”

Silence again, and Nie Huaisang sighed. Perhaps he had underestimated Lan Xichen’s resentment and overestimated his need for closure. He glanced at Jiang Cheng who shrugged, obviously trying to hide his disappointment. It would have been rude to insist, so without a word they both turned around, ready to return to the rooms that had been prepared for them.

They had only taken a few steps when they heard the slide of wood against wood behind them. Both of them turned in unison to find Lan Xichen at the door.

A pang of guilt shook Nie Huaisang like lightning. It had only been a few months since he had last seen Lan Xichen, but time had not been kind on the other man. He looked too thin, his skin too pale, his beautiful long hair was dirty and a mess of knots. His eyes were fixed on Jiang Cheng, whose presence must have been a shock.

Nie Huaisang had always been good at surprising others, and at taking advantage of it. He rushed to the door, grabbed Lan Xichen’s arm, and pulled him inside with the sweetest smile he could manage at such a time.

“Xichen-gege, I’m so relieved to see you again. You don’t mind that I brought Sandu Shengshou, do you?”

“I…”

“Only, I couldn’t leave him alone with your brother and Wei Wuxian,” Nie Huaisang laughed, motionning for Jiang Cheng to follow them inside. “Do you know how insufferable they are? Jiang Cheng, tell them how awful they are.”

“Very,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, hovering on the doorstep. “Sect Leader Lan, if it’s not a good time for you, we’ll go.”

Lan Xichen stared at him like a startled rabbit, which Nie Huaisang would have found immensely amusing if it hadn't been so worrying. Lan Xichen was not a man to easily let his emotions overcome him. Nie Huaisang gently squeezed his arm, bringing the older man’s attention to himself.

“Zewu-Jun, you’ve been alone a long while now. We were both worried for you, so we thought it would be nice to pay you a visit.” Nie Huaisang raised the two jars of wine he had brought, and gave a crooked smile. “See? I even brought something to drink. But as Sandu Shengshou said, if you’d rather be left alone, we’ll comply.”

The way Lan Xichen looked down at him hurt. It also hurt when Lan Xichen finally realised that Nie Huaisang had been holding his arm that entire time and pulled himself free with a sharp gesture.

“What are you planning now, Huaisang?” He asked in a too soft voice.

“You can’t stay alone forever,” Nie Huaisang replied, as sincere as he was still capable of being. “We’re not those you lost but… we’re your friends too, aren’t we?”

It was a bold claim to make after everything that had happened. Indeed, Lan Xichen tensed and frowned, pinching his lips slightly as if to stop himself from denying the claim. If it had been only the two of them, Nie Huaisang could easily imagine being sent away at that moment. But that was why Jiang Cheng had to be there as well. He was probably the last person left whose relationship to Lan Xichen had not yet been tainted and corrupted by resentment.

Lan Xichen must have come to the same conclusion. His eyes turn to Jiang Cheng, and he manages something that could pass for a smile.

“Do come in, Sect Leader Jiang,” he says, still too softly. “The two of you are here already, there is little point in sending you away.”

At last, Jiang Cheng stepped inside, far too cautiously, as if he expected Lan Xichen to change his mind at any moment. At the same time, Lan Xichen still looked like a frightened rabbit torn between staying still and dashing away.

Nie Huaisang ignored both of them. He dropped the jars of wine on the table, then went looking for something to drink from. It had been a while, but he still remembered where everything was in the Hanshi, and had no trouble finding three bowls for them to use. With a boldness and confidence he did not quite feel, Nie Huaisang sat at the table and started pouring wine for all of them.

"Let's drink!" he said, gesturing for the other two to sit with him, as if he were the host.

Out of respect, Jiang Cheng allowed Lan Xichen to chose his seat first. There was some hesitation there, but in the end Lan Xichen sat opposite Nie Huaisang. It would force him to see the other man, yes, but that was also the spot that allowed the most distance between them. Jiang Cheng sat at one of the other sides left, awkwardly looking like a buffer between them but also, and most importantly, closer to Lan Xichen than Nie Huaisang was.

"I'm not sure I should," Lan Xichen noted, looking at the wine as if it were poison. "What is the occasion?"

The end of his seclusion hopefully, although of course Nie Huaisang could not say that.

"Do we really need a reason to have a little fun?" he chuckled instead. "Zewu-Jun, everything has been so complicated lately, don't we deserve to just relax?"

It was a flimsy argument at best, and it said a lot about Lan Xichen's state that he simply rolled with it and carefully sipped some of the wine. Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng drank as well. Emperor's Smile was worthy of its reputation, although Nie Huaisang usually preferred fruitier drinks for his part.

"So, how was the conference?" Lan Xichen asked, as polite a host as ever. If not for the way he looked, Nie Huaisang would have felt transported back to simpler days.

And so, they chatted a little about news from the cultivation world. Lan Xichen appeared sincerely interested by every piece of news they had to share, making it clear he had truly been isolated these last few months. With his easy, open personality and friendly nature, it could only have made worse an already fragile state.

Indeed, the longer they talked, the more animated Lan Xichen became. He mostly listened at first, but before long he was giving his opinion on certain matters, or smiling as the other two complained about their problems, which were many. Without a Chief Cultivator to play the judge, it had often become quite difficult to settle certain disputes.

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

“Wei Wuxian?” Nie Huaisang asked, since this wasn’t his first time drinking with the other sect leader and he had noticed a pattern. This was Jiang Cheng's second cup, and a certain topic was usually unavoidable.

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

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

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

He sighed, and so did Lan Xichen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That did little to lighten Jiang Cheng's mood, who ragefully emptied another cup. Lan Xichen too drank some more, but more calmly. When he was finished, he carefully looked at his cup, as if it might hold answers to every question he’d had since discovering the truth.

“We were not lovers,” he announced, the alcohol forcing him to speak more slowly than usual. “I know what everyone says. Even my brother. But we were not.”

“Because he was married?” Jiang Cheng asked bluntly.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes at the obvious question. Of course that was the only reason Lan Xichen would have hesitated to give in to…

“I was never interested in him that way,” Lan Xichen protested, still looking into his empty cup. “He was my friend, I admired his strength and his…” he paused, and half laughed. “His righteousness, of all things. I knew he had done wrong sometimes, but which of us hasn’t? I encouraged him to join the Wens and spy for us during the war, I’m half guilty of his crimes there. But it was for a right cause. I always could tell myself that his moments of darkness had been for the greater good. He was my friend.”

“You were always touching him,” Nie Huaisang noted. Accused. Regretted. Envied. "Did that mean nothing?"

“Even when he was Chief Cultivator, people treated him as dirty because of his mother,” Lan Xichen replied, tapping his fingers on his cup. “And people say Lan disciples are a paragon of virtue, so I thought I’d… I don’t know what I thought. It backfired, anyway. Huaisang, did you think I loved him?”

Instead of answering, Nie Huaisang shrugged. He wasn’t sure what he had thought. Perhaps not love, no, because the way Lan Xichen had looked at Jin Guangyao wasn’t the way he looked at Jiang Cheng, but… something, for sure.

Lan Xichen’s face fell at that non-answer.

“Huaisang, is that why you made me kill him?”

Cold seizes Nie Huaisang who wanted nothing more than to run away from this conversation. But he knew… of course he had known they would probably end up discussing what had happened that fateful night. He had thought he was ready. He had thought wrong.

“You did not kill him,” he alluded, avoiding the question. “My brother did. Justice of a sort, I suppose.”

“He would have died anyway. That wound was fatal.” Lan Xichen took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. “I made sure it was fatal.”

The cold inside Nie Huaisang intensified until he could not breathe anymore. The blow inflicted to Jin Guangyao had looked bad, certainly, but he had assumed that had been nothing more than instinct or accident. To hear Lan Xichen confess to it being deliberate was… Nie Huaisang couldn't deal with the trust it implied, a trust he had used and abused and destroyed with no less cruelty than Jin Guangyao did. The only difference was he was still around to carry that guilt.

While Nie Huaisang wallowed in the horror of that confession, Jiang Cheng scuttled closer and, with unexpected gentleness, put a hand on Lan Xichen’s shoulder.

“Jin Guangyao isn’t worthy of your regrets,” he said with intense sincerity. “What he said about his generosity, about never harming you… bullshit. He killed your oldest friend. How’s that supposed not to harm you? He took your spiritual powers to keep you docile, didn’t he? Not something a generous friend would do. He was scared of you. If he was ready to kill Jin Ling, he was ready to kill anyone.”

Lan Xichen's lips parted in a soft gasp at the harsh words and, doubtlessly helped by the alcohol, a few tears escaped him. Surely the wine could be blamed as well when Jiang Cheng, after some hesitation, took his hand from Lan Xichen's shoulder and brought it to his cheek instead, swiping away the tears with a gentleness that left Nie Huaisang choking with envy over both of them.

"You learn to live with what you can't change," Jiang Cheng promised. "And it's easier if you're not alone. You have your family and your sect. And you have friends as well."

A new sort of guilt twisted Nie Huaisang’s stomach. He knew he had not been there enough for Jiang Cheng after Nightless City and the siege. He had wanted to, but that was when things had started going downhill for Nie Mingjue. Between their arguments and the need to enjoy those rare moments of peace, Nie Huaisang had had little time for anyone else.

Maybe if he had paid more attention to others, if he had been a better friend to Jiang Cheng, if he had done more to earn Lan Xichen's trust… but there was little sense of wondering what could have happened if he hadn't been alone.

As Jiang Cheng said, he just had to live with what he couldn't change… while still changing what he could.

He stared at the other two men, Jiang Cheng's newfound gentleness, Lan Xichen allowing himself to be approached again. The rest was in their hands. All Nie Huaisang could do now was look for an excuse to leave these two alone and, with the help of the wine, they were sure to end up talking about…

"I owe you an apology, Nie Huaisang," Lan Xichen said, turning to look at him. "I have not been the friend you and your brother deserved."

Jiang Cheng's hand fell down from Lan Xichen's cheek and suddenly, Nie Huaisang found himself at the center of both their attention. He could have cursed them. This wasn't about gathering pity for himself. He really needed to go before these two missed their chance.

"Zewu-Jun, you cannot blame yourself for not knowing what I purposefully hid from you," Nie Huaisang protested with an awkward laugh. "On the contrary, you should probably blame me for much of what happened. If I had spoken earlier…"

"Then why didn't you?" Jiang Cheng cut him. "I'd have listened."

"Would you? When I had no concrete proof, nothing by my memory of a song played wrong?"

"Yes," Jiang Cheng said without a second of hesitation.

Nie Huaisang felt taken aback by the certainty of his tone, but quickly recovered.

"That's easy to say now, Wanying. You have forgotten how you were at the time. You did not trust anyone back then."

"I trusted you," Jiang Cheng claimed with unbearable earnestness. "I still do. I'm here because you said I should be, aren't I?"

Curse the wine, Nie Huaisang thought, and curse Jiang Cheng as well for choosing this moment to open up. His eyes darted toward Lan Xichen, certain that there would not be anything kinder than pity and disdain to be seen there.

He wasn't sure what to call the expression on that too handsome face. A little pity, yes, but disdain didn't seem the right word.

"You said I should not stay alone," Lan Xichen whispered. "Neither should you. You said I should not shun my friends. The same could be said of you. You are no more solitary by nature than either of us, Huaisang."

"Don't be so generous, Zewu-Jun," Nie Huaisang scolded in a strangled voice. "You should know better now than to forgive the wrong person."

"You're not the wrong person, you idiot," Jiang Cheng huffed. Then, after a second of reflection, he added: "You're not Jin Guangyao, no matter what you think of yourself. So stop being so dumb and let us like you."

Before Nie Huaisang could fully register this and get angry that Jiang Cheng had so carelessly brought to light the fear he barely admitted to himself, a hand on his wrist distracted him.

Lan Xichen's hand.

"We all need a new start after everything that has come to light," Lan Xichen said with such kindness that Nie Huaisang nearly cried from the pain it caused to his heart. "Why not do it together, all three of us? There is no one I'd want at my side more than the two of you."

"As your friends?" Nie Huaisang asked, fighting tears.

Lan Xichen took a moment to think on it. His grip on Nie Huaisang’s wrist tightened slightly as he extended his other hand toward Jiang Cheng who did not hesitate to take it.

"As friends," Lan Xichen agreed, before shuffling to link his fingers with the other two men's. "And perhaps as something else as well, when we are ready for it. I think I would like that. I hope you would as well."

That was the last drop. Nie Huaisang broke into tears and although he would later blame the wine, it had more to do with the horrifying realisation that these two men, his friends, still accepted him and cared for him after everything he'd done.

"This isn't how tonight was supposed to go," he sobbed.

"Good," Jiang Cheng retorted. "Your plans always suck."

Nie Huaisang laughed, then cried again when Jiang Cheng took his free hand.

For the first time in a decade, he felt hopeful.

Nie Huaisang came back to consciousness with a dreadful headache pounding behind his eyes, and promised himself to be more careful with Emperor's Smile in the future. No matter how easily Wei Wuxian drank it, that wine was not light.

Realising that he was feeling too warm for the season, Nie Huaisang cracked an eye open and quickly realised two things. First, he was not in the guest quarters of the Cloud Recesses. Second, he was not alone in bed. Instead he was plastered against the left side of Lan Xichen, with Jiang Cheng on the other side, his hand fisted into Nie Huaisang’s inner robes as if to keep him in place.

Things were a little fuzzy but… They had continued drinking a little while after their emotional conversation. When the wine had been gone, Lan Xichen had said that he simply couldn't send them back to their rooms, not when it was dark and well past curfew. Somehow, in their drunken state, it had seemed like an excellent idea for all three of them to share Lan Xichen's bed, even though there was a perfectly comfortable sofa available for Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang was more than fine with sleeping on the floor.

Emperor's Smile was dangerous stuff.

At least Nie Huaisang was a little more in control now, in spite of the hangover. He still had a chance to do the right thing. He tried to sit up, only for two sets of arms to tighten their grip on him.

"Don't," Jiang Cheng ordered.

"Stay," Lan Xichen pleaded.

He should have fought them off and left them to deal with themselves without him. It would have been the kinder thing to do.

But it was warm, being held by these two men who refused to hate him, and Nie Huaisang wasn't selfless enough to give it up. He closed his eyes and pressed himself a little closer against Lan Xichen so he could reach over him and touch Jiang Cheng as well.

He'd given them every chance he could to make a better choice. If they still both wanted him, he could only accept it.

#xisang #xicheng #sangcheng #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #lan xichen #mdzs #jau writes #if this is ooc (and it probably is) please consider they're all drunk #that's my only excuse for how sappy this is

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bloody-bee-tea · 5 years ago

Text

Pastel - Untamed Spring Fest 2020 Day 7

kazidawn on AO3 commented, that they were wondering how it would go if Lan Xichen were the one to be brought in to an already established Mingcheng, so what can I say. Here we go.

“Hey, Jiang Cheng, can you bring this plate to Xichen-ge? He forgets to eat otherwise,” Wei Wuxian says and pushes a food-filled plate into Jiang Cheng’s hand.

“Why don’t you bring it to him?” Jiang Cheng complains, just for the sake of it, but he takes the plate and doesn’t even wait for Wei Wuxian’s no doubt stupid answer to march off to Lan Xichen’s art studio.

He hasn’t seen Lan Xichen all day, despite the fact that Jiang Cheng came over early in the morning to get that group project with Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji done, and it makes Jiang Cheng definitely more grumpy than normally.

Jiang Cheng knocks once at the door to Lan Xichen’s studio and then he just barges in there, impatient to finally see Lan Xichen for the first time that day.

The first thing he notices is that Lan Xichen has paint all over his face and Jiang Cheng itches go over and wipe it off. The second thing he notices is the wide-eyed stare on Lan Xichen’s face and how he tries to hide what he’s been drawing from Jiang Cheng.

“Jiang Cheng,” he breathes out and itches a little bit more in front of the easel.

Naturally, it draws Jiang Cheng’s gaze to it, and the first thing he notices it that it’s entirely in pastel. It gives the whole painting a very soft tone and it’s only belatedly that Jiang Cheng realizes that it’s a picture of him and Nie Mingjue.

“Xichen,” he breathes out, because maybe all their flirting did pay off already, but Lan Xichen only lets out an embarrassed laugh.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” he says and almost smacks himself in the face with his brush. “I’ve just been trying different styles lately. I meant to give this to you, of course, but it’s not completely done yet,” Lan Xichen rambles and Jiang Cheng very helpfully doesn’t point out that he can see at least three other paintings with Nie Mingjue and himself as the subjects.

“Can I take it home today?” Jiang Cheng instead asks and wonders how Nie Mingjue will react to that.

If anything, maybe it finally gives them the push to outright tell Lan Xichen that they would love to have them in their relationship.

“Uh, sure,” Lan Xichen says with a worried glance at the painting and then smiles at Jiang Cheng. “Of course.”

Jiang Cheng wishes he could take a picture, because it’s not often that Lan Xichen blushes like this and Nie Mingjue will be mad that he missed it.

“Perfect,” Jiang Cheng says, and then belatedly remembers the food in his hands. “Oh, I brought you dinner. That’s why I just barged in,” he explains and lifts the plate as proof.

“I see,” Lan Xichen says, as he shuffles his feet and then points at a nearby table. “Put it down there? I’m all—,” he holds his paint covered hands out for Jiang Cheng who nods.

“Of course,” Jiang Cheng says, because he doesn’t actually know Lan Xichen to be without at least one paint stain and puts the plate down. “Thank you so much, Xichen,” he then beams at him and quickly leaves the studio again, already taking his phone out.

Got a surprise for you when I come home, Jiang Cheng quickly types out and then puts the phone back without waiting for a reply.

Nie Mingjue will just want to know what it is, because he’s the least patient man Jiang Cheng knows, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to ruin the surprise.

~*~*~

“I’m back,” Jiang Cheng yells into the apartment when he finally makes it home, and Nie Mingjue appears in the doorway barely a second later.

“You’re a goddamn tease,” is what he greets Jiang Cheng with, but he also walks closer to pull him into a welcome home kiss. “What’s the surprise?” he then immediately asks and Jiang Cheng holds up the wrapped up painting.

“Lan Xichen drew something.”

“For us?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“More about ‘he drew us’,” Jiang Cheng replies and carefully unwraps the painting, before he displays it for Nie Mingjue.

“Well, shit,” Nie Mingjue mutters under his breath and carefully takes the painting out of Jiang Cheng’s hand.

Which is a good thing, because Jiang Cheng throws his hands up in a truly helpless gesture.

“What else are we supposed to do?” he asks Nie Mingjue, who is still staring at the picture.

“I saw at least three other paintings with us in his studio. We all but came out and told him we love him. How much bolder can we get? Why won’t he just take the hints?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and starts to pace up and down their living room.

“Clearly he wants the same.”

“I told you he is in love with us,” Nie Mingjue reminds him and Jiang Cheng whirls around to him.

“Then why the fuck won’t he just accept that we love him, too?” he asks and Nie Mingjue sighs.

“Come here?” he then asks and holds out a hand for Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng works his jaw a few times, but Nie Mingjue continues to wait patiently for him, and in the end Jiang Cheng marches over there.

He puts his hand in Nie Mingjue’s still waiting one, and Nie Mingjue pulls him close, until Jiang Cheng can rest his forehead on his collarbone.

“Why won’t he just accept that we love him?” Jiang Cheng mumbles and Nie Mingjue presses a kiss to his hair as he slings his arm around him.

“Because he’s afraid that he’s going to ruin what we have, that he misunderstands and causes a rift between us.”

Jiang Cheng lets out a deep sigh and melts against Nie Mingjue, because he knows that, they have talked about this in length, but it still never gets easier.

“What are we going to do?” Jiang Cheng whispers and wraps his arms around Nie Mingjue’s middle as he peers up at him.

“I might have an idea,” Nie Mingjue says, and Jiang Cheng leans up to press a kiss to his jaw.

It’s right there, after all.

“What’s the idea?” he then asks, drags his lips over Nie Mingjue’s skin and he can feel him shudder in his grip.

“Huaisang is pretty good at imitating art styles,” Nie Mingjue says with another look to the painting. “I can probably get him to paint Lan Xichen into this as well, and we can give him that. Maybe that will make him understand.”

“Huh,” Jiang Cheng says and puts his ear over Nie Mingjue’s heart when he turns to look at the painting as well. “Might not be a bad idea,” he agrees and Nie Mingjue squeezes him.

“I do have my moments,” he says and Jiang Cheng peers up at him.

“You’re always brilliant, now shut up and cuddle me no the couch, I didn’t get to see you all day,” he complains and Nie Mingjue huffs out a breath.

“Who left at the crack of dawn?”

“Just because of the Lans and their crazy sleeping schedule,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “You should have seen Wei Wuxian, he was like a zombie.”

The image makes Nie Mingjue snort, but he also steers Jiang Cheng over to the couch, so he counts it as a win.

It’s not long before they are both situated on the couch, Jiang Cheng draped over Nie Mingjue, who strokes a hand up and down his back.

“You think Huaisang will do it?” Jiang Cheng sleepily asks after a while and Nie Mingjue hums.

“He’s just as tired of all this pining as we are,” Nie Mingjue agrees and Jiang Cheng lets out a sigh.

“Good, then.”

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he’s nervous. There is still the slightest chance that this will go wrong, that this will ruin the friendship they have with Lan Xichen, and just the mere thought of that makes Jiang Cheng’s stomach turn.

“It will be fine,” Nie Mingjue mutters, and pulls Jiang Cheng into his side, giving him a lingering kiss to his temple. “It will be fine,” he says again and he sounds like he believes it, too, so Jiang Cheng relaxes against him.

“Ready?” Nie Mingjue asks him and Jiang Cheng nods before he rings the doorbell.

They know it’s just Lan Xichen at home, because they planned it that way, and it doesn’t take long for him to open the door.

“Mingjue? Wanyin? Did we make plans?” Lan Xichen asks, but he’s stepping aside to let them in.

“No, we didn’t,” Jiang Cheng says and then elbows Nie Mingjue into the side.

“We’re here to give something to you,” Nie Mingjue says and holds up the painting they brought along.

Nie Huaisang really did an amazing job with it, and it’s almost like Lan Xichen has been in it all along.

“Okay?” Lan Xichen questioningly says but he takes the painting when Nie Mingjue hands it to him.

Jiang Cheng steps close to Nie Mingjue again when Lan Xichen starts to unwrap it, and Nie Mingjue’s hand on his hip is clenching, so Jiang Cheng knows he’s just as nervous as he is, despite his words.

Finally, the painting is unwrapped and Lan Xichen stares at it for a really long time, before he drags his eyes back to Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue.

“What is this?” he whispers, and Jiang Cheng can see his hands faintly shaking.

“This is what we want,” Nie Mingjue says determinedly and Jiang Cheng nods.

“This is what we see,” he adds and Lan Xichen ducks his head at that.

“Really?” he asks and his voice is shaking.

“Really, Xichen, will you please just finally allow us to have it?” Nie Mingjue says and effectively brings Lan Xichen’s eyes back to them.

“I know you’ve been flirting,” he starts and Jiang Cheng nods again, encouraging him. “But I thought you didn’t mean it seriously. For something more than the sake of flirting.”

“Xichen,” Jiang Cheng sighs out and moves away from Nie Mingjue to hug Lan Xichen. “We want you in our relationship. We want you with us,” he states, clearly as anything and he hides his smile in Lan Xichen’s shoulder when Nie Mingjue joins them.

“Because we love you,” Nie Mingjue tells Lan Xichen, who finally allows himself to fall into the hug Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng offer him.

“Okay,” he agrees and then, with a laugh, says it again. “Okay, alright.”

“Thank the gods,” Jiang Cheng says with a sigh and drags his lips over Lan Xichen’s cheek.

Nie Mingjue does the same on the other side, and this time when Lan Xichen blushes, Jiang Cheng can finally feel it with his lips.

(Even though Lan Xichen draws many more paintings of them, all three, together, that very first one is the one that hangs in their bedroom.)

#bt writes #mingxicheng #the untamed #mdzs #untamed spring fest #established mingcheng #getting together #for mingxicheng #fluff

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honibee-arts · 4 years ago

Note

dramatic villain nie huaisang and hero jiang cheng? maybe nie huaisang flirts with the hero while jiang cheng is kinda horny but has a duty to fulfill?

Just a warning this gets a little steamy but its a kind of pan to the window vibe. I will mark this as NSFWish text to be safe though.

"Jie, I don't think I can get all of these people out of here in time.” Jiang Cheng panted into his headset, holding the crumbling ceiling up with one arm, watching the people run out.

He heard his sister sigh, her manicured nails clicking against her keyboard.

“Lightbearer and Moonbeam should be on the scene in the next two minutes.” she replied.

“Jie, I don’t have two minutes. This building is going to collapse in the next thirty fucking seconds.”

“A-Cheng, language.”

“I’m holding up a building, I don’t even have super strength. I’m gonna die like this. Can’t you tell them to hurry up?” He grit his teeth. He’s going to have a fucking hernia and broken bones after this shit, and he was going to make that stoic asshole Lightbearer pay for his goddamn medical bills. He probably had more than enough money.

“They’re going as fast as they can, A-Cheng.”

“And your boyfriend couldn’t come and help?”

“A-Xuan’s taking A-Ling today so you could patrol, remember?”

“It’s hard to remember when I’m being crushed.”

Jiang Cheng widened his stance, pushing the crumbling ceiling back up with both hands, growling in pain. Black spots began to gather in his vision, his static flickering across his visor from the strain on his suit.

“We’ll take it from here, thank you, Violet Spider.” Came Moonbeam’s firm yet gentle tone, taking the weight literally off of Jiang Cheng’s shoulders.

“About fucking time.” He wheezed, taking a deep breath as his arms dropped by his sides, wincing in pain.

“Would appreciate some gratitude.” Lightbearer huffed petulantly as he helped his brother carefully lift the falling ceiling back up, holding it there in an eerie white glow.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes as the remaining people rushed past them, scrambling to get out of there as quickly as possible. Jiang Cheng didn’t blame them in their haste, not one bit. He didn’t like being the one to hold that shit up.

“Are you alright, A-Cheng?” His sister asked in his earpiece, the display on his visor recalibrating.

“Yeah, yeah. Just. Exhausted...” he stood back and caught his breath.

“I’ll make sure to have some lotus rib soup for you when you get home, A-Cheng. I’ll check over your injuries too.”

“A-Jie, you don’t need to do that.”

“Aiya, hush. It’s nothing. I’ll check what the damages are to your suit too.”

“A-Jie...”

“No buts, A-Cheng.”

He sighed and looked down, his hair falling over his visor as he stared at the rubble beneath his feet.

“I’m going to have the longest goddamn nap in history after this.”

“You deserve it, A-Cheng.” A-Jie hummed. “Thank you, A-Xuan.” she said softly, sipping what Jiang Cheng assumed was a cup of tea handed to her by her boyfriend.

In his visor, purple warning symbols flared up in his periphery.

“A-Cheng-”

“On it.” He said as he spotted a flare of green a few blocks away. Gritting his teeth against the ache in his arms, Jiang Cheng jumped up onto the wall of the nearest building, scaling it as quickly as possible and sprinting across the rooftops.

Sometimes, only sometimes, Jiang Cheng hated this fucking job. Sure, he could have a normal 9-5 job and earn a stable income, but no, he just had to be born the son of Yunmeng’s protector and inherit her powers and mantle, along with a load of fucking pressure. He just had to have been trained intensely by his mother, day in and day out from the second his powers manifested at 11. He just had to have had the heroes instinct and the motto of “Attempt the impossible” drummed into him since he was a child.

As much as he wanted to push back against his instinct to protect in favour of his exhaustion sometimes, he couldn’t stop himself.

The blasts led him to the Jin Corporation office building in Yunping, only a half mile from the crumbling building he was just almost crushed under.

“A-Jie, the source is coming from the Jin Corp. offices in Yunping.”

“Mm. I saw. The building that you were just in was a Jin owned business too.” She replied thoughtfully.

“Does your boyfriend know anything about someone that might have been slated by his father? Cousin maybe?”

“Nothing. I know Jin Guangyao had a complicated relationship with Red Blade. There were rumours about him having something to do with his retirement.”

‘Retirement’ had been a delicate way of putting what happened to Red Blade. When Jiang Cheng had first come onto the hero scene, Red Blade had taken him under his wing. He had been something of an older brother figure, despite being the protector of Qinghe rather than Yunmeng.

He had been familiar with Jiang Cheng’s abilities, having also been mentored by Jiang Cheng’s predecessor. Everyone knew and respected Red Blade. His super strength and speed was matched by none, in his prime he could leap a building in a single bound and punch a meteor out of the sky without so much as a single scratch. With all that power however, came a price. Red Blade had been prone to feral rages which were difficult to pull him out of, very few people could. Moonbeam seemed to be the only one beside whoever was in his ear all the time who could do it.

About six months ago, Red Blade had disappeared for three days. Moonbeam had found him snarling and bleeding from his eyes, his right arm severed and his eyes white. How Red Blade had survived, Jiang Cheng had no idea. After a few weeks in a medically induced coma, Red Blade had announced his retirement and hung up his mantle for good. Only Moonbeam was said to know what had happened to him following his retirement. There was sometime unspoken between those two that Jiang Cheng couldn’t quite figure out but stank of probably resolved sexual tension.

“Shit!” Jiang Cheng cursed, narrowly avoiding a blast of green energy, rolling onto the nearest roof and ducking for cover.

“A-Cheng.” A-Jie chided.

“Like you didn’t say worse when you were being shot at.” Jiang Cheng argued, sending a bolt of violet lighting back.

“Back in the day, I didn’t run my mouth like a sailor, A-Cheng.”

“I bet you don’t miss this part of heroing, huh?”

“There are times I am grateful I took a permanent maternity leave, yes.” She replied. “A-Cheng! On your left! Someone’s coming your way, and its not anyone on the Lotus servers. Be on your guard.”

Jiang Cheng nodded and raised his hackles as a a figure cloaked in blinding green energy floated onto the building, their black heels clicking against the concrete roof. As soon as the figure was close enough, Jiang Cheng shot a bolt of lightning in their direction, yet, to his horror, it was deflected easily.

“Come on out little spider, I won’t hurt you.” The figure said.

Jiang Cheng swallowed thickly and stepped out, hackles still raised.

“Aiya, so defensive. Put your arms down so I can see your pretty face. I won’t try anything.” Jiang Cheng slowly lowered his arms but kept his guard up, stance firm. “So stubborn. That’s better though, hello handsome.”

The figure was slender, androgynous with long, dark hair that shone in their eerie green glow and flowed behind them in the wind, their eyes afire with the energy that seemed pulse from their entire being, almost drawing Jiang Cheng in like a moth to a particularly deadly yet hard to resist flame. Their body was wrapped in a skin-tight leather-like substance with mesh panels, leaving even less to the imagination, half of their face obscured by a mask that started at the neck and wrapped around his mouth and nose.

Jiang Cheng swallowed thickly, ready to burst into action whenever necessary.

“And what should I call you?” Jiang Cheng said steadily.

“Well, I go by he/him pronouns, but I do quite like it when sexy men like you call me beautiful.” He giggled, bouncing on his heels a little. “Binary terms are horseshit anyway, gender is a social construct.”

“Not what I meant but. I don’t like misgendering people. Even if they’re tearing up half the fucking city. So. Thanks.”

“Well, I haven’t really given myself a name yet.” The man hummed, snapping open one of the fans in his hand and fluttering it lightly. “Kinda just wanted to do one thing and hang up the whole thing I guess.”

“And you wanted to what, not get caught?”

“Well, something of the sort.”

“And you assumed you could do this tearing up half the city looking like a green lava lamp dressed like a hooker?”

“A-Cheng! Be nice!”

“Yes, listen to your sister, A-Cheng.”

“How do you know that!” Jiang Cheng snapped, his hands sparking.

“Whoa, whoa, easy hot stuff, I mean you and your family no harm. You have your headset on way too loud and everyone can hear you saying A-Jie so. Go figure.”

“Alright... I’ll be more mindful in the future.”

“He seems genuine, A-Cheng. I’m going to log off for now, but I’ll keep an eye on your vitals and see if you seem like you need help.”

“Alright...” He heard the line go quiet, her lotus icon in the corner of his visor going totally transparent.

“Is it just us?” The man asked.

“Yeah. Just us. So. What the fuck is your deal?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“The Jin corporation have fucked plenty of innocent people over, but there are also innocent people in that tower you’re trying to destroy.”

“They’re collateral. I’ve accepted those losses.” The man said, his demeanour turning cold suddenly.

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“You wouldn’t understand my motivations.” The man turned around and stared ahead at the slowly burning building ahead of them.

“Ugh, what is it with villains and cryptic bullshit? I can’t let you wreck the fucking building, okay?”

“Watch me.”

Jiang Cheng lunged and grabbed his arm, earning a blast of green energy to his solar plexus that sent him staggering. Today was not his day.

“If you want a fight, then fine.” The man said, rolling his shoulders. “I’m just sorry I’ll have to kick that glorious ass of yours.”

Jiang Cheng felt his cheeks flush.

“Oh please, the spandex doesn’t hide shit.” The man said before lunging at Jiang Cheng.

Yeah, okay. This was a day Jiang Cheng really hated his fucking job. His muscles screamed with exhaustion as the man tackled him to the roof, straddling him and pinning his arms above his head. Maybe he was tired and his resolve was slipping, or maybe he had been rocking a semi for a fair amount of the fight and could admit this man was fucking hot despite his different side of the law.

The tightly coiled strength in his deceivingly slender limbs forced Jiang Cheng down as he straddled his lap. As he brushed his groin, Jiang Cheng let out a slight groan.

“Hold on,” The man said, sitting back. “Are you hard? Does fighting me turn you on?”

“Sh-Shut up! Are we gonna fight or not?!” He struggled under his grip.

Fuck, okay. The man was right. This was humiliating. Why does he enjoy this?

“I dunno, do you want some help with that?” The man purred, his long, thick lashes fanning over his cheeks as he leaned in closer, shifting his hips ever so slightly and earning another groan from Jiang Cheng.

“Are you crazy? I’m meant to be fighting you!”

“I know but, I kinda like this vibe we have going. Do you?”

Jiang Cheng bit his lip and looked away, nodding.

“I need a verbal yes.”

“You care about that?”

“I’m an anarchist not a monster, damn. Answer me.”

“Y-yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I... I like... this.”

“And is it a yes that you consent to this rooftop encounter?”

“C’mon I already said-”

“Yes or no spider. I won’t take that horseshit for an answer.”

“... Yes. I would like you to. Help me out.”

“Good,” he hummed, hooking a black gloved finger in his mask and tugging it down, revealing soft, pink lips pulled into a suggestive smirk. “I’m glad to be of service.” and he leaned down to press his lips to Jiang Cheng’s.

#sangcheng #jiang cheng #jiang wanyin #nie huaisang #mdzs #cql #cheng qing ling #the untamed #mo dao zhu shi #ship prompts #nsfwi-sh text #my shitty writing

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aspiratixxn · 4 years ago

Text

Ink spills on your skin (1/?)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: None at the moment

Summary:

If the perfect blank canvas walked in, wouldn’t you want to paint it too? Or in which one Wei Wuxian colors the entire world of one Lan Wangji.

Inspired beautifully by @eledsart‘s Tattoo Artist WWX drawings!

[Link to AO3]

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

Wen Qing is going to kill him.

Look, when you’re friends with Wei Wuxian this long you learn all his quirks and habits, including the one where he gets up barely five minutes before opening and comes barreling around corners like a bull in Spain. She’s seen him skid right into walls with how fast he’s going, tumbling over himself and popping right back up with that megawatt smile still pasted on his face. But sometimes, especially when it’s this important, you’d think he wouldn’t be late.

She’s carrying A-Yuan in her arms, bouncing him up and down as he dozes off. Wei Wuxian is lucky that she adores A-Yuan’s little toddler face but mark her words, Wei Wuxian is going to pay for making her wait. She’s waiting in front of the shop, not open yet. It never opens before noon, since the gods themselves would not be able to drag Wei Wuxian out of bed.

Last night, he had requested (begged) with his big puppy eyes for Wen Qing to take A-Yuan, just for the night because he was going to be up working and he didn’t want A-yuan to be kept awake by his paper shuffling or his bone popping. Bones don’t pop, she said, but agreed anyways. Besides, Wen Ning was begging too with his own big puppy eyes behind Wei Wuxian and she wasn’t so cruel as to say no.

But now it’s time for her to get to her own work and she taps her foot, rolling her eyes when she finally spots him sprinting down the street like he’s going for the olympic gold. Another thing she’s learned about Wei Wuxian is that he’s really good at dodging obstacles, weaving over, under and around people and their items. Someone shouts as he barely misses them. Wen Qing is starting to think maybe she can get to her appointment with her professor on time when she watches him crash straight into someone else, sending a whole flurry of papers out of their arms and into the air.

She sighs, pulls out her phone and emails her professor.

Wei Wuxian has the worst luck. He’s always managed to get into trouble, whether he was looking for it or not. He always liked to say that trouble was looking for him and Wen Qing would smack him over the head with her notebook. But man, this is probably the worst since he can see Wen Qing in her knee-length red cardigan, impatiently bouncing his ward on her hip. He knows she’s got an appointment and he’s going to be really sorry about this later. Should’ve been more careful, he thinks as papers flutter and the person he bowled over sits up. “Sorry! So sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going! Well I was but then again I was going like seventy three miles an hour and I didn’t mean to bump into you I’m so sorry again,” he’s babbling a little but he can see the exasperation in Wen Qing’s face as she pulls out her phone and he’s scrambling to pick up sheets of paper, collecting them in a haphazard pile in his arms with corners sticking in every direction. Most of the sheets aren’t even facing up probably but he’s really got to go. Once he’s acquired most of them on the ground near him and has done a quick sweep around to make sure he hasn’t missed any, he holds them out and sheepishly smiles. “Sorry again, I didn’t mea-”

So here’s the thing about Wei Wuxian. He is many things. Troublemaker, chaos creator, absolute fucking moron. Brilliant designer, inventor and artist. He is also, now, in love.

His jaw drops as does the volume of his voice, an awed whisper. “Holy shit you’re so fucking cute.” And it’s true, an angel in all their radiance has descended and blessed Wei Wuxian with an adorable fucking person.

Said person looks like they’ve swallowed a lemon with their sharp eyes and pursed lips and yet still, he is captured by the hazel gold that gleams in the sun. He could sit for hours and count the flecks in their eyes that dance as they shift to collect more papers with their long fingered hands, elegant in a way that Wei Wuxian could never be. The slope of his broad shoulders held high, the thickness of his thighs that were pressed against the formal black of his slacks. And his hair, a bit fluffy. Wei Wuxian wonders if he could run his hands through it, it looks so soft.

“Shameless.” He’s broken out of his dream by a tight voice as the person finishes collecting their papers and stands, compelling him to stand as well, still holding a pile of papers. Mouth slightly agape in how beautiful that one word sounded. Head filled with thoughts about how his name might sound, formed by those lips. The man takes the stack of papers with a small huff, glaring once more at Wei Wuxian and then he strides past. He smells like sandalwood and bergamot.

Wei Wuxian is many things and as of this moment forth, he is also a lovestruck idiot.

“Wei Wuxian!” Wen Qing’s irritable voice breaks him out of his daze and his face falls. Aw, shit . A-Yuan’s big eyes brighten and he reaches his little toddler hands out, wanting his Xian-gege to pick him up even as Wen Qing bounces him. She, on the other hand, does not look as cute with a glowering frown that makes Wei Wuxian’s entire soul shrivel up a little. If looks could kill.

He sprints the last distance, apologies pouring from his mouth again. He’s said sorry seventy three times today and it hasn’t even been an hour since he woke up. That’s got to be a new record. “Wen Qing, you, light of my life, are the only thing that keeps me grounded in this world so cruel.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m so fuc- uh, so sorry I’m late! I missed my bus and then it would’ve taken forever to arrive again so I kind of sprinted across like seven blocks? And then I ran into this absolute cutie-”

“I’m aware. I saw you.” He shuts his mouth with a blush that could reach the high heavens. “Now stop being a moron and take A-Yuan or my professor really will have my head.” She holds out her arms and A-Yuan already has his arms outstretched, making little grabby hands. Wei Wuxian takes the precious gift gratefully, shifting to perch A-Yuan on his own hip. He bows to her, another quiet apology as A-Yuan starts babbling off everything they did last night, from dinner to a movie to board games and coloring and magic tricks with Wen Ning. “I’ll be late tonight, Wen Ning will bring you guys dinner later today. And do not forget that you need to get milk from the store. A-Yuan was very upset we didn’t have any this morning.”

Wei Wuxian at least has the sense to look slightly ashamed of himself but he pops up just as quick with a salute. “Yes ma’am!” A-Yuan mimics him before dissolving into giggles, pulling on Wei Wuxian’s sleeves. “Do you want anything? Maybe some tiramisu? I can also make my classic double chocolate chip cookies!” A-Yuan lights up and though Wen Qing still has a sour look on her face, she nods. Her phone buzzes and she sighs, reaching up to pat A-Yuan’s head before bustling off and vanishing in the crowd.

“Xian-gege, Xian-gege! I want to play! Can I color on you again?” Wei Wuxian chuckles as he starts to shuffle around for his keys. “Ning-gege says he made lots of these!” He has to resist a shudder when A-Yuan’s slightly clammy hands start poking around his neck where wreaths of flowers and other tattoos crawl up. “And he said that jiejie made them too! Can they make some for me?” Fishing out his keyring, Wei Wuxian just laughs again.

“Maybe when you’re a little bigger A-Yuan.” That earns him a pout but soon enough it morphs into a look of wonder as Wei Wuxian unlocks the door and opens up his store. Yiling Tattoo was well known in the area for its incredible artists who were always fair with their price. Wei Wuxian was the only one who was there all the time (as the owner) but people whispered far and wide about the delicate lines Nie Huaisang painted or the more bold and contrasted work that Jiang Cheng marked. Jiang Yanli was also a commonplace sight though she had apparently retired since her marriage to THE Jin Zixuan, multimillionaire and heir to the Jin luxury goods empire. There was also the recently hired Xiao Xingchen, who had made a name for himself using intricate dot work and wandering the globe with his tools.

Setting A-Yuan down, Wei Wuxian gets to work flicking on all the lights and starting up the thermostat. He takes all the tools and sticks them into the autoclave. They’ll be ready when the shop opens, probably. Just in case, Wei Wuxian has always kept an up-to-date stash of disposable, sterile tools tucked away in the supply room. He puts A-Yuan up on the counter of the front desk (where Mianmian works) and pecks his cheek, sending the child into peals of laughter. “Be good while I clean okay?” A-Yuan nods but as Wei Wuxian turns to get the cleaning supplies, he’s stopped by a rather firm grip on his sleeves. “Mm? What’s up bud?”

“Wanna help gege.” Wei Wuxian might keel over and die right now with how adorable A-Yuan looks, cheeks puffed out and determined eyes. “Can I? Please?” Wei Wuxian wonders how in the world he ever got this precious little bundle of joy in his life.

“Mm, are you suuuuure? It’s hard woooooork.” Even sitting on the counter, A-Yuan doesn’t quite reach eye level so he has to crouch as he speaks, pinching A-Yuan’s cheek. “You don’t want to play a little?” But even so, A-Yuan isn’t deterred and shakes his head vigorously.

“Nu-uh! Wanna help Xian-gege! Pleeeeeease?” And who’s Wei Wuxian to turn down such an honest request.So he picks out the disinfectant and the mop and all the other cleaning supplies he needs to make this place as germ free as possible. He sets A-Yuan on the floor and crouches, lowering his voice to a stage whisper, “Okay, here’s the plan…”

It takes longer than usual to finish cleaning up but they finish before the store opens. Mianmian is the first to arrive, laughing as she watched A-Yuan delicately place the design images around the walls in the waiting area. She knows the drill, already prepared with so many activities for him. Today’s activity seems to be some sort of lanyard weaving or something, if Wei Wuxian’s eyes don’t betray him when he sees the spools poking out from her “A-Yuan bag”.

Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang are right on her heels, arriving only a few minutes later. Nie Huaisang has a smirk on his face as he pulls out a coffee from behind his back. Caramel macchiato just like Wei Wuxian likes. He stows the cleaning supplies away first before taking the cup with a moan. “Nie Huaisang, love of my life!” Jiang Cheng snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Put a hand on him and you’ll lose it.” Wei Wuxian quickly jerks his hands back, feigning offense. Jiang Cheng should have a PhD in eye rolling, right up there with Wen Qing. He stalks off to go enjoy the coffee in the backroom they reserve for more private tattoos and piercings. Sighing, he sits and glances over the schedule of appointments on his phone. They have about half an hour before opening so he takes his sweet time sipping.

It’s a busy day as always. Jiang Cheng is working on a large piece that stretches across the whole back. Huaisang is doing mostly touch ups and walk-ins. And Wei Wuxian, well, he’s only got one appointment in the evening so he resolves to spend time designing and drawing up front with Mianmian and A-Yuan. She handles most of the admin work so he can sit back with his thick black notebook, bursting with all kinds of drawings. Mostly stylized though he does have a few that are more realistic.

The bell chimes and he looks up, expecting a customer or perhaps his shijie with a bowl of steaming lotus root and rib soup. Instead, his book flies out of his hand and slams into the counter and he pushes his chair back to stand and look at the face of the very angel who he had crashed into in the morning.

Accompanied by another man with similar features and a much kinder smile. Accompanied by Nie Mingjue. (“Ah, da-ge!”) Accompanied by Jin Guangyao (probably, Wei Wuxian doesn’t remember the Jins very well despite being family).

Wei Wuxian has a knack for names and faces but he swears up and down he would’ve remembered seeing these two brothers (?) before if they were friends with Nie Mingjue. He swallows, leaning so far forward over the counter that he’s inches from the tipping point. “So,” he smirks, eyes lidded, “what’s a beauty like you doing here?”

Behind him, Mianmian covers A-Yuan’s ears and snickers. Wei Wuxian is far too into his head to care though there’s no doubt that she’s going to rib him into the ether later. For his credit though, the angel just levels a cool stare and Wei Wuxian finds that he really doesn’t mind it at all. Especially when he notes that his ears are turning a gentle shade of pink.

The other handsome stranger sweeps in, saving his brother (?) the trouble of finding a real reply. His lips crest in a smile but his eyes dance with a mild threat and Wei Wuxian backs off, knowing there’s trouble to be had and for once not wanting to get into it. “We have an appointment. With Wei Wuxian.” One glance at Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao shows exactly how smitten they are with this pretty, pretty voice that floats melodically in a shop full of buzzing needles.

“Uh, that’d be me! You’re…” He glances down at the open appointment list on Mianmian’s computer. “Lan Xichen?” He receives a nod. Returning with a nod of his own, he quickly pulls up the appointment details. As a matter of fact, it’s not just Lan Xichen but apparently also Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao. They’re getting matching tattoos? Wei Wuxian had never pegged Nie Mingjue as the type but there’s a first for everything he supposes as he prints the details out and sticks the paper into his notebook. “Well, follow me I guess.” He hopes the angel follows too as he takes them to the consultation room in the back.

Wei Wuxian has a process when it comes to his art. First, accept no walk-in that isn’t well thought out. Second, never ink on the first meeting without thorough discussion of every detail, including a sketch if it’s a simple design. Third, he will not touch other people’s work just like he would hope no one touches his own. Finally, the tattoo must be completed with a customer satisfied before he lets it go. Granted, this has caused some problems in the past with people who would stumble in drunk and demand something in his style without any care or consideration. And with a few disgruntled customers who thought they were getting one thing even when he went through the whole process with them from start to finish. It was always weird when someone was upset with their finished product when they had been the ones to okay every detail (with forms!) every step of the way.

The angel does follow though a bit slower. Gold eyes seem to flick every which way, taking in the organized mess that is the Yiling tattoo parlor. With Jiang Cheng’s grimace as he intensely shades and Nie Huaisang’s tongue poking out as he finishes the last delicate line on a camellia, it’s no wonder. Still, Wei Wuxian kind of wished those eyes would be watching him. Maybe they would be when he was working later.

The backroom is much quieter, with padding in the walls to block noise going in and out. He gestures at the chairs across the table and the four of them take a seat, the angel sitting a bit further in the back. Wei Wuxian takes his own seat and sets his book on the table, flipping open to a fresh page and popping the cap off his pen to take notes. “Alright, what’re we in for today?”

There’s a moment when the three exchange looks and Wei Wuxian feels like they’re arguing about who should speak. In the end it’s Lan Xichen who does it, though he seems a bit annoyed if the slight tightness in his voice is any indicator. “We were looking for something that could connect across motifs of nature.” Okay, kinda broad. Thankfully it looks like they’ve put thought into this as each of them pulls out a sheet of paper. It’s funny to see them side by side. Lan Xichen’s is folded so neatly it doesn’t seem human. Nie Mingjue’s is kind of crumpled, like he shoved it into his pocket without thinking. And Jin Guangyao’s is neat and messy at the same time, the corners and edges having taken a beating.

Wei Wuxian collects them and scans them with bursting concentration, taking his pen and marking up the pages without restraint. He can see Nie Mingjue twitch a little out of the corner of his eye but well, what’s paper for if not for ink? It seems like their motifs are centered around osmanthus or plum blossom flowers, colorful flames, and the moon hidden behind clouds. Okay, well, nothing too unusual. But this is going to be a pretty big project and Wei Wuxian chews on his lip as he compiles a list of things to consider and ask.

Thankfully (again), it seems like they already have a basic shape idea in mind as well as style, size and coloring. Wei Wuxian is so goddamn thankful that they really did think this through. It makes his life so much easier and within the hour, he’s already got a rough sketch which he shows off with pride.

It’s a circle of flames intertwined with osmanthus and plum blossom both, circling around the hidden full moon. He’s scribbled some rough details around the edge, indicating size and colorings. This piece isn’t his usual kind (it’s more up Nie Huaisang’s alley actually) but as they pore over the drawing, he finds himself getting more and more invested. There are small tweaks and details but it seems like overall they’re satisfied with the design. Jin Guangyao requests that the flames be a little more explosive and Nie Mingjue seems entirely caught up on the positioning of the flowers. Xichen focuses specifically on the moon but by the end of a long session, they’ve settled on a final design which Wei Wuxian will draw up later and send to them in its final form, without all the scribbles in the margins.

He pulls up a few forms and has them fill out basic information as well as consenting to the tattoo design and process. They will be charged at least partially upfront due to the size and complexity of the piece. Finally, they fill out details about where they want the tattoos and any final notes they want to be taken into consideration.

All this while, the angel has sat ramrod straight, watching with a level of curiosity that doesn’t show anywhere but in the gleam of his eyes. Wei Wuxian wonders what it might take for him to stop looking like a complete sourpuss. With the forms signed and returned to him, he collects them with the three papers they brought and puts them all collectively into his notebook. He stretches and stands, letting out a sigh. “That’ll be all for today. I’ll send over the final design within the next few days. Please feel free to make any changes but do be reasonable about them. We’ll set up another appointment with Mianmian and we can start inking when everything’s in order. Sound good?”

He’s met with three identical nods. Lan Xichen’s smile is brighter than the sun. Jin Guangyao is more reserved but his lips curl and he has that happy bounce in his step. Nie Mingjue even cracks a grin and ruffles Wei Wuxian’s hair on the way out. As he takes them back out to the front, Wei Wuxian notices that the angel hasn’t spoken once, nor does he seem to intend to. He’s ringing them up for the consultation fee and maybe his staring wasn’t quite as covert as he had hoped since Lan Xichen, when handing over his card to pay, also gestures to the silent beauty. “This is my brother, Lan Wangji. He’s here for… Emotional support.” That gets a snort out of Wei Wuxian that breaks out into full laughter as Wangji looks like a strangled cat. Lan Wangji, a name pretty enough to match. How would it taste in his mouth?

“Well!” He slides the receipt across for a signature, never breaking eye contact with Lan Wangji. “It was nice to meet you both, I look forward to your future patronage and then some.” He wiggles his eyebrows and Lan Wangji’s ears flare red that seem to crawl to his cheeks. Again, he speaks just one word in that perfect, beautiful voice of his.

“Shameless.”

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gusu-emilu · 4 years ago

Text

Cantatio: Chapter Seven

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying (POV Lan Zhan)

Summary: No matter whether they're in the library or their dorm room or anywhere else—Wei Ying can't keep his nose out of Lan Zhan's business.

Cloud Recesses Academy AU, Rated T - read on AO3

< Ch. 6 | Ch. 8 > | chapter list

Lan Wangji clutched his robes with trembling hands and gaped down at the image in disbelief. The elegant black lines that depicted his long hair, flowing robes, and serene face might as well have been the Gates of the Heavenly Court themselves for the magnitude of awe they inspired in him. The portrait had been crafted with careful, doting attention. Even thin lines for his eyelashes had been caressed into the parchment: soft, tender, and downcast.

Wei Ying had been drawing him.

The thought of Wei Wuxian surreptitiously glancing at Lan Wangji—or perhaps even outright staring at him—as he painted his likeness made Lan Wangji’s stomach churn with a bizarre emotion. It sloshed around inside him, bouncing off the walls of his chest with a tingle, like butterflies flapping their ticklish wings against his heart. He did not understand what this feeling was.

Lan Wangji wanted to repay his artistic admirer, but all he could manage was to blink at him in bewilderment.

“Ah, so you like it, Lan Zhan? You can hang this up in our dorm if you want. Look, I made you much handsomer than you are in real life! You’re welcome!”

Oh, yes. What emotion did he feel?

He felt creeped out.

That’s what it was.

“Boring.”

He shoved the paper back into Wei Wuxian’s arms and returned to his writing. Wei Wuxian pouted and scuffed his feet as he lumbered back to his seat, leaving the drawing on the floor at the foot of Lan Wangji’s desk.

Another several minutes of silence passed. Although it wasn’t that silent, because Wei Wuxian kept shifting in his seat, rubbing his face, and sighing during his frequent breaks from copying the Gusu Lan Clan rules. Lan Wangji was definitely not paying more attention to the portrait on the floor than he was to his own handwriting.

A delicate shadow appeared in the doorway. It was Wen Qing.

She carried a journal under the fold of her left arm and scanned the room with astute eyes. At the sight of Wei Wuxian, she furrowed her brow, then grazed over him with an air of indifference and strode toward the platform where Lan Wangji sat.

“Did you find anything?” she asked.

Lan Wangji twinged his lips with a pang of embarrassment. “I have not looked.”

She scoffed. “Weren’t you the one who said you would research it? Now you expect me to do all the work to prove your crazy story?”

“What crazy story?” Wei Wuxian piped in.

Lan Wangji ignored him. “I have been occupied.”

“With what?”

Wen Qing leaned over and squinted at the copied list of rules on Lan Wangji’s desk. Then her eyes wandered down the leg of the table and landed upon the portrait that still lay on the floor. She raised her eyebrows.

“Are you leading an art class for Young Master Wei? A little vain to use yourself as the model, don’t you think?”

Lan Wangji’s cheeks began to burn. He glared at the piece of paper with dark malice, like it was a traitor to the entire Gusu Lan Clan.

“Can you at least point me to the right section of the library so we can get to the bottom of this? I have Alchemy homework to do, you know.”

“What crazy story?” Wei Wuxian repeated.

“Speaking is prohibited in the library,” Lan Wangji said. He turned to Wen Qing and pointed at the east corner of the room. “Third shelf from the top, left side.”

“Thanks.”

“Why is it okay for you two to talk?!”

Lan Wangji silenced him with a sharp look. Wei Wuxian grumbled and picked up his brush, but he followed Wen Qing suspiciously with his eyes.

After half a minute of the soft thud of book covers upon wood, Wen Qing waltzed back over to Lan Wangji and laid a thick maroon volume at the edge of his desk.

“Take a look at this one. I think this author is quite reputable. I’ll read the one written by his rival.”

Lan Wangji sized up the hefty book in his sight, then surveyed the pages of writing he still needed to finish for his self-punishment.

“I am occupied.”

Wen Qing slouched an inch, and the olive-green book in her hand swung at her side. “Why are you doing that?” she said with a resigned sigh, as if she already knew the answer and was very disappointed about it.

“Isn’t it ridiculous? It’s like the executioner cutting off his own head! There’s something weird about him, I’ve gotta warn you, Lady Wen. Poor Lan Zhan.”

They continued to ignore him.

Lan Wangji answered her question. “To atone for intruding in your dormitory.”

“You were just trying to prove your innocence to me, now you’re sulking like a guilty child? I thought you wanted to know how you got into my room.”

Wei Wuxian perked up at this new information. He leaned to the side to get a better view and watched with curiosity.

Lan Wangji bit the inside of his mouth. He shot Wen Qing a pleading look that said, I do not want him to know about this.

Wen Qing sniffed and gave a sly smile. She sat down on the edge of the platform and opened the yellow pages of the book on her lap.

“Stop sulking and read.”

Lan Wangji contemplated for a full minute. Maybe two. Then he grabbed the book that was balanced over the corner of his desk.

It was better to atone for his infractions against Wen Qing by following her wishes, wasn’t it?

He looked up at Wei Wuxian, who was whistling as he scrawled characters into the paper with quick flicks of his brush, unaware of Lan Wangji’s scrutinizing gaze. The outline of his features was backlit by soft blue from the window behind him, and painted in warm tones everywhere else from the mellow hues of the library.

If Lan Wangji had the passion to draw, Wei Ying in this delicate lighting could have been his muse.

If Lan Wangji were held at swordpoint, that is.

* * *

Wen Qing and Lan Wangji had not been successful in finding any leads about portals, and they hadn’t yet discovered a connection to qiankun pouches. They did find detailed passages about Transportation Talismans and Transportation Arrays, but both of these required a tremendous input of spiritual energy, as well as a clear casting for the intended location—neither of which matched Lan Wangji’s experience.

Could it be that there was another person operating the closet? If so, what was their agenda?

They decided to give it a rest for the day and read more tomorrow.

While in the library, Lan Wangji had waited for Wei Wuxian to tell him how he animated the pixiu like he promised, but Wei Wuxian did not mention it.

So Lan Wangji had waited more hopefully during dinner. But all Wei Wuxian did was babble about chili peppers, chickens, and Lan Qiren. It seemed that making fun of Lan family members over food was a new habit of his.

Dinner had been served in the large hall where carved tables stretched down its length, hosting disciples who filled themselves with food after a tiring day. They were so eager to replenish their energy that it had been difficult to follow the rules of Cloud Recesses dining decorum with such a sumptuous meal before them. Jiang Cheng had scarfed down his meal the most greedily of all. Wei Wuxian was a close second.

“Eating more than three bowls of rice is prohibited,” Lan Wangji said.

“MFFNE MMH MMM MUUMMFMFMF!” had been the answer.

Afterward, every disciple was too full to go out and play like they did the previous night. Now Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian sat at the tea table in the center of their dorm. The portrait Wei Wuxian had drawn was plastered on the wall like a trophy. Wei Wuxian’s idea, of course.

The hot tea wafted through the dormitory with a mellow grassy scent and mingled with the stillness that clouded the two boys’ secluded new home. It was surprising that Lan Wangji’s roommate chose to spend a quiet evening in their duplex, patiently questioning Lan Wangji about the Cloud Recesses and classes, rather than seeking out the company of his friends in the main dormitory courtyard.

But Wei Wuxian had ways of finding entertainment anywhere.

“Laaaaan Zhaaaaaan,” he sang.

Lan Wangji exhaled, then slowly turned to face the dark-robed figure at his side who was furiously wriggling his eyebrows.

Wei Wuxian placed his elbows on the sleek wooden table and leaned sideways toward Lan Wangji. He smirked. Sparkles of glee danced in his eyes. As he sprawled himself closer to Lan Wangji, their arms touched, sending an uncomfortable rush through Lan Wangji’s skin.

“I know what’s going on,” Wei Wuxian said. His expression was handsome, mischievous.

Not feeling panicked at all, Lan Wangji turned away to face the door and took an unassuming sip from his cup, trying to douse the hot flames that were rising up in his chest from being so close to the young man.

“You have a crush on Wen Qing, don’t you?”

He nearly choked.

The steamy green tea spattered around his mouth and down his throat, coating it with nasty bitterness that Lan Wangji wouldn’t have had to taste had it not been for Wei Wuxian’s crassness.

The nerve!

He had no interest in Wen Qing!

Was he blind?!

Lan Wangji swirled his tongue around in his mouth, trying to sop up the lingering drops of bitter tea and coughed-up stomach acid that clung to his gums, hoping to extinguish the unpleasant suggestion.

“You were pretending that you didn’t know how you got into Wen Qing’s room so I wouldn’t suspect what’s going on between you two!” He continued the deranged fantasy as he patted Lan Wangji on the back to quell his coughing. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you wily bastard. I had heard that you didn’t care about what other people thought of you, but it’s really too bold to be pursuing a Wen. That’ll turn some heads around here for sure. I give you my respect. But don’t worry! If you don’t want anyone to know, I’ll keep your secret safe!”

Many words spun through Lan Wangji’s mind, but he selected the simplest and least offensive one in response.

“No.”

“You do want me to tell people?”

“No.”

Despite his attempts to restrain the muscles in his face, Lan Wangji’s mouth was drawn into a mystified grimace.

Was Wei Ying really this clueless?

Couldn’t he tell that…

Tell what? There was nothing to tell. In all his life, Lan Wangji never once had a crush, and he certainly did not have one now. He did not even know what it felt like. Nor was he interested in finding out.

But something about Wei Wuxian’s assumption made him very, very frustrated.

“I feel nothing for Lady Wen.”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head like a cat about to swat at a toy. “If not her, then who do you have a crush on?”

Lan Wangji stammered out a reply that was supposed to be, “No one,” but it sounded mangled and not at all like his usual firm, clear voice. He wondered if it had even been intelligible.

“Alright, alright, I won’t ask you about that anymore. But I’m still suspicious. Why were you in Wen Qing’s room? What is your ‘crazy story?’ I want to hear about what scandalous things Lan Er-Gege does when we aren’t looking.”

Wei Wuxian leaned back and stretched his arms behind him to prop himself up, studying Lan Wangji with patience. Woven through his visage was that disarming look of sincerity.

Lan Wangji had learned not to trust it.

“I do not know.”

As honor was integral to his identity, Lan Wangji could not lie, but he could conceal the secret that lay behind the closet door a few paces away from where they sat. If Wei Wuxian found out about the portal, the entire Cloud Recesses was sure to learn within minutes. He did not want to make the gamble.

“You don’t know? Aiya, Lan Zhan, you sound like Nie Huaisang. How about this. If you don’t tell me what’s going on with Wen Qing, then I won’t tell you how I animated the pixiu in class today.”

Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian had bargaining chips.

Lan Wangji thought back to Beings & Creatures and how Song Lan had reacted to his question. Did Wei Wuxian know some forbidden technique for summoning guardian spirits? It seemed that one existed since Song Lan had alluded to it. What was it? How would a teenage disciple from the righteous Yunmeng Jiang Clan know it?

The emotions in Lan Wangji’s mind swirled with more than just curiosity. A spark of competitiveness nipped at his tongue. If his robust spiritual energy was being bested by someone, he wanted to know how.

Concern also gripped him. What if Wei Wuxian was wandering down a dark path of wayward cultivation?

But these thoughts were baseless. He did not care. He would not tell him about the closet.

Having reached a stalemate, the two young cultivators finished their tea without tasting it and parted ways for the night. Lan Wangji retired to his bed to read his Alchemy & Medicine homework. Wei Wuxian headed outside to prowl the grounds with Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang for the hour remaining until curfew.

Sleep soon cradled Lan Wangji as his heavy eyelids closed.

He awoke to a soft thud at his right.

Lan Wangji squinted his eyes. It was still nighttime, although the starlight pouring in through his window made it an unusually bright night.

He strained his ears to listen for any other sounds next to him, but it was silent.

And then—

Footsteps.

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by liking, reblogging, and visiting me on AO3! New chapters posted every Monday on AO3 and Tuesday on Tumblr.

Ch. 8 > | chapter list

#mdzs fanfiction #the untamed fanfiction #wangxian fanfiction #mdzs fanfic #the untamed fanfic #wangxian fanfic #mdzs #the untamed #cql #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #wen qing #cantatio #emilu fics #emilu creations

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moonwaif · 5 years ago

Text

Do not waste your pearls for me

Summary: Lan Wangji is rescued by a young human with a talent for woodwind instruments, a gorgeous smile and eyelashes that go on for days.

Or, that one time Wei Wuxian snuck a whole-ass fish person into Lotus Pier.

Words: approx. 9,000

Tags: trauma, abuse, healing, mermaid!lanwangji, wangxian, unresolved romantic tension

Rating: G

(Originally posted on Ao3)

Lan Wangji remembers the hollow echo of agony and death. He remembers the violent jolt of the wreckage, of finally spilling out into open water only to be too weak to swim. Then he remembers the sensation of strong arms wrapped around him, of being torn and tugged until at last breaking through to the cool night air.

Next he remembers a rocking sensation. Coarse cloth. The sound of lapping water. Someone carrying him. Opening his eyes to a ceiling of shadowy wooden beams above him.

After that, he remembers nothing.

These are Lan Wangji’s most recent memories when he regains consciousness. The past, however, is no longer his concern. As his mind clears, so does his understanding of his current situation. He is in a dark room, sitting in a too-small wooden tub filled with water, his fins poking over the edge. He doesn’t know this place. The panic is instant, as is the pain. Gripping the edge of the tub, he tries to raise himself up, tail flopping and splashing wildly.

“Woah, woah--easy there.”

A voice, gentle, speaks from beside him. Lan Wangji’s head spins frantically in its direction. A human man is crouched beside the tub. His hair is long, his face is handsome, and he smiles in a way that Lan Wangji can only assume is meant to be reassuring. Cautiously, eyes never once leaving Lan Wangji’s face, he reaches a hand out towards him.

Droplets fly as Lan Wangji’s arm flashes out of the water, snatching the man’s wrist with the speed of a viper.

The man’s smile falters, but he doesn’t try to pull away. “It’s okay. I don’t want to hurt you.” He raises his other arm, showing the small pouch clutched in his hand. “I need to apply this medicine to your wounds.”

Lan Wangji has heard cautionary tales of jiaoren who had the misfortune of encountering humans—of how they were taken captive and disassembled like furniture, their body parts sold in human apothecaries1. Growing up, he saw peers who wandered too close to the shallows punished and beaten, the elders exchanging one act of cruelty for another in the hope that it would save future lives. So when this man says that he wants to heal Lan Wangji, to help him, Lan Wangji knows it is a lie.

If he were at his full strength, Lan Wangji would blast him with spiritual energy. He’d drag himself from this washtub, strangle the man to death, scratch out his eyes--anything to get away. But he has spent the last several days and nights sitting in a barrel of his own fetid water. He’s been beaten and drugged. The gash in his fin burns, enough to distract him from the numerous other wounds on his body. Even if he did somehow manage to make it back to the lake, he doubts he could even swim.

Eyes narrowed, Lan Wangji reluctantly loosens his fingers.

The man laughs stiffly. He flexes his wrist. “Damn--your grip is like a vice! Just try to relax, okay? I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Lan Wangji's entire body is rigid, eyes tracking the man's hand as it draws closer. He prepares himself for an attack, but none comes. The man merely presses his fingers to a wound on Lan Wangji's chest. The paste he gently massages in feels soothing and cool. Lan Wangji's tension slowly melts into confusion.

Is this human really trying to heal him?

Lan Wangji knows this can't bode well. Perhaps the man is trying to cure him for some sinister purpose. Maybe he intends to keep Lan Wangji alive in captivity, to force him to weave jiao xiao sha or produce pearls like some sort of livestock2. Or maybe he wants to sell him to a rich noble as an exotic house pet, like his original captors had planned on doing. But the pleasant sensation of the man's ministrations gradually stills the flow of Lan Wangji's anxious thoughts. By the time the man reaches his torn fins, Lan Wangji has slumped back into the washtub in a state of half-miserable, half-relieved stupor.

He's too tired to be afraid anymore.

"These wounds may take some time to heal," the man explains. "Especially the one on your fin. It looks infected. It's best if you stay here for a while. Ah, are you cold? You're shaking. Your fever is still pretty high, so I can't warm up the water too much, but a little should be all right . . ."

Still babbling, the man reaches into his robes and pulls out a slip of something that looks like very thin, fragile cloth. There is writing on it, but Lan Wangji doesn't get a chance to read it. The man slaps it on the side of the washtub, and the water suddenly heats up. A soft moan passes through Lan Wangji's lips.

The man's face breaks into a smile. Lan Wangji is dazed by how bright and genuine it is.

'So lovely,' he thinks groggily. 'Is this another kind of medicine?'

¤¤¤¤¤¤

Lan Wangji spends the next several days tormented by strange dreams. Sometimes he is back on the smugglers' ship, and they're dissecting him alive. Sometimes he sits cradled on his mother's lap, her hands guiding his as she teaches him to weave jiao xiao sha, her whisper warm against his ear, 'Like this, A-Zhan.' Sometimes it's that human boy, laughing and smiling and talking about who knows what. Other times it's the sensation of cool water running down his throat, or a spoonful of warm, salty liquid passing through his lips. And then sometimes it's gentle music, a kind that Lan Wangji has never heard before. It reminds him of birdsong, or the whistling dolphins he heard the one time he traveled far from the lake with his brother, when they followed the hidden channels and ventured out to sea.

"You snuck back a whole-ass fish person!"

These half-whispered, half-shouted words abruptly wrench Lan Wangji back into the present and anchor him there. His eyes snap open. He is still in the same room, in the same washtub. The same young man is also there. This time, however, he is accompanied by another human, one in purple robes and bearing a scowl that immediately sets Lan Wangji on edge.

"Do you have any idea what would happen if my parents found out about this?" the second man continues in a strained voice. "They'd beat you until the discipline stick cracked in half!"

The first man sighs. "Jiang Cheng. You worry too much. Entire days have passed since I first hid him here, and so far no one else has found out. You really think people would wait this long to get suspicious? Everything will be fine. We just need to act like nothing is out of the ordinary."

The man named Jiang Cheng seems unconvinced. In fact, his eyes look like they are about to bulge out of his skull. "Wei Wuxian--!"

"Shh! If you keep shouting, someone will definitely hear. Is that what you want?"

Jiang Chiang's face screws up like he's chewing sour eels, but he doesn't protest further. Wei Wuxian, apparently satisfied, turns away. His eyes land on Lan Wangji.

'Oh,' Lan Wangji thinks. 'That smile again . . .'

"You're awake!" Wei Wuxian declares. He scampers over to the washtub and plops down on the floor, crossing his legs. "Did you rest well? How are you feeling?"

Lan Wangji purses his lips. He glances at Jiang Cheng, who's eying him with equal wariness, then back at Wei Wuxian, whose smile fades in the ongoing silence. He coughs lightly, then reaches for a tray on the low table beside him.

"My shijie made some soup for you earlier. It's still warm--mostly. Are you hungry, young fish lord?"

Lan Wangj bristles. Young fish lord ?! Jiang Cheng, meanwhile, snorts.

"Why do you bother talking? He probably doesn't even speak our language."

"You don't know that! Besides, what kind of host would I be if I didn't try to make pleasant conversation? Fish brother," he says, and Lan Wangji's eyes harden in the fiercest glare he can muster, "would you like some soup?"

He holds up the tray, mimics eating from the bowl. Lan Wangji stares coldly.

Wei Wuxian's face scrunches up in a disappointed pout. He sets the tray back on the table. "Maybe later, then. Oh, I still haven't introduced myself. My name is Wei Ying, courtesy name Wei Wuxian. But you can just call me Wei Ying if that's easier. Wei Ying. Wei Ying. Got it?"

No one has spoken to Lan Wangji in such a condescending tone since he was a small child. His webbed fingers clench into fists.

"This guy over here is my shidi, Jiang Cheng," Wei Wuxian continues. "Courtesy name Jiang Wanyin. His parents are the leaders of the Jiang clan, and this is their headquarters--Lotus Pier. Fish brother, you must have really great luck, because the Yunmeng Jiang sect is definitely the best cultivation sect in the human world. Trust me, you're in great hands."

Lan Wangji knows of the Yunmeng Jiang sect. His brother Lan Xichen, as well as several other high-level members of the Lan sect, occasionally disguise themselves and venture out into the human world to trade for goods. Even more importantly, they gather information. Unlike most freshwater jiaoren, who have long since been driven out from their natural habitats by human settlements, the Lan jiaoren of Yunmeng lake have managed to survive thanks to the careful tabs they keep on the local human activity. This activity of course includes the Yunmeng Jiang sect. Now, sitting in a washtub at Lotus Pier, Lan Wangji releases tension in his shoulders that he didn't even know he was holding.

When he’d been trapped on the smuggler’s boat, he wasn’t sure how far he had traveled or where to. Now he's so close to home, he can taste it. Maybe this situation isn't completely hopeless after all. Maybe, just maybe, he'll make it out alive.

"Those smugglers . . . They did bad things to you, didn't they?"

Wei Wuxian's voice is low. A burning sensation builds in the back of Lan Wangji's throat. He blinks, and blinks again, then looks away. This non-response seems to confirm something for Wei Wuxian, because his expression grows suddenly angry. He makes what must be an attempt at a chuckle, but it comes off as a cold sneer.

"Don't worry. They're in a place where they can't bother you anymore--or anyone else, for that matter."

The edge in his voice takes Lan Wangji off-guard. Wei Wuxian’s face quickly softens back into a reassuring smile.

"I managed to salvage some things from the wreckage," he says. "I've been wanting to show them to you, but you wouldn't wake up!"

He stands and walks over to a long, flat chest in the corner. Lan Wangji's curiosity stirs. He wonders, as well as hopes, until Wei Wuxian finally finishes rummaging. He holds up what Lan Wangji knows is a neatly folded robe. He knows because he recognizes the fabric. It is white, translucent like a pearl--the same color as Lan Wangji's scales. Pale aqua embroidery shimmers on the edges.

"Are these yours?" Wei Wuxian asks, and Lan Wangji is barely able to stop himself from nodding. "Either way, you should put some clothes on."

Horror pierces Lan Wangji like a spear. Amidst all the chaos, he's overlooked the most obvious: he is completely naked in front of two strangers!

Lan Wangji crosses his arms and sinks beneath the water in a desperate attempt to cover himself. Wei Wuxian smirks and lays the robe on the edge of the tub. Lan Wangji waits until he has finished strolling back over to the chest before snatching up his clothing and yanking it on. It's difficult to wrap the layers around himself in such a confined space, but he does manage to make himself somewhat decent.

"Oi, Wei Wuxian. What do you think you're doing?"

Jiang Cheng, who up until this point has been hovering like an irritable mother duck, rushes forward. Lan Wangji's gaze follows him, and what he sees fills him with a mixture of shock, then relief, then confusion, and finally anger.

Clasped in Wei Wuxian's grubby, human hands is none other than Lan Wangji's sword, Bichen.

"I'm giving him his sword back," Wei Wuxian answers easily. "Why? Do you feel left out because I don't have any gifts for you, too?"

"Why the hell would you give him a weapon?!"

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. "Really, Jiang Cheng? We're the two prides of Yunmeng. He's a half-dead fish person. Sword or not, you really don't think we could take him?"

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. He darts a sharp look in Lan Wangji's direction, sizing him up. Lan Wangji tries to inject as much hatred into his expression as he can muster.

"Fine,” Jiang Cheng relents, “but don’t come crying to me when he drags himself across the floor to slit your throat! What makes you so sure it's his, anyway? Those thieves could have stolen it from anyone.”

Wei Wuxian leans forward conspiratorially. He raises the sword for Jiang Cheng to better see, and just barely unsheathes the blade. Bile rises in Lan Wangji’s throat. This Wei Ying--how dare he!

“See?” Wei Wuxian whispers. “Look at the blade.”

Jiang Cheng blinks. “Is that . . . ?”

“Mhm. Pearl.”

Jiang Cheng reaches out, caressing the blade with his fingertips. “How unusual . . .”

An indignant splash draws their attention. Lan Wangji is sitting ramrod straight in the washtub, his eyes like smoldering coals. Chuckling sheepishly, Wei Wuxian sheathes the sword.

“Here,” he says, laying it on the low table. “Just don’t try to kill me, all right? I spent so long trying to heal you. If we fight, I’ll be forced to injure you, and all that time will be wasted. Now I have just one more thing of yours, but I think it might be broken. I swear it wasn’t me, though! It was like that when I found it.”

This “thing” Wei Wuxian turns out to be Lan Wangji’s guqin. Just seeing Wangji laid out on the table beside Bichen is enough to make a warm, pleasant ache blossom across Lan Wangji’s chest.

“How is it broken?” Jiang Cheng asks. “It looks fine to me.”

Wei Wuxian plucks a string. Lan Wangji darts a glare in his direction. Jiang Cheng, meanwhile, frowns.

“Why is there no sound?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe the tuning got messed up, or the instrument was damaged somehow. Either way none of the strings will make a sound.”

Lan Wangji’s nostrils flare. If he wanted to, he could explain away their confusion. But he doesn’t want to, so he sits in silence as they babble speculatively. In the meantime he tries to puzzle out what Wei Wuxian can possibly mean by returning Lan Wangji’s belongings. All three would fetch a pretty price. Why not try to pawn them, or hoard them in a treasury? And if Wei Wuxian means to sell Lan Wangji or imprison him, why offer him a weapon?

None of it makes sense.

Lost in thought, Lan Wangji’s gaze wanders. Suddenly, he spots something familiar. He leans forward so quickly that water sloshes over the side of the washtub.

There, lying on the floor just in front of the open chest, is the Lan clan forehead ribbon!

Wei Wuxian follows his gaze. Spotting the ribbon, he bends down to retrieve it, crumpling the fabric in his hand. Lan Wangji’s stomach curls and his ears grow hot. Wei Wuxian, however, is blissfully unaware of having violated any taboo. He even has the audacity to look a bit pleased with himself as he holds the ribbon out to Lan Wangji.

“Is this yours? Sorry, it must have fallen out of your robes when--”

Lan Wangji wrenches the ribbon away with such vehemence that he nearly scratches Wei Wuxian. Startled, Wei Wuxian backs away.

“Fish brother!” he exclaims. “I’m trying to help you. Do you really have to be so rude?”

Lan Wangji stares hard at the ribbon clutched in his hand. He has always been brought up to honor the sincerity and generosity of others. Now, acting so fearful and suspicious, he is ashamed of his own behavior.

Wei Wuxian, however, has already recovered. “That’s all I was able to find. Sorry again about your guqin. Maybe when you get back home, the other jiaoren can fix it for you.”

Lan Wangji looks up at Wei Wuxian, so stunned that he accidentally lets the cold mask slip from his face. When you get back home?

Jiang Cheng nudges Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “Come on. We’ve been gone long enough. If we don’t go back, they’ll notice.”

Wei Wuxian nods in agreement. Both of them shoot uneasy glances Lan Wangji’s way. Wei Wuxian, however, is the only one to actually speak.

“I have to leave now. I’ll be back later to change your water. Don’t do anything stupid. Okay, fish brother?”

He speaks slowly, with elaborate gestures. Lan Wangji, of course, says nothing.

Jiang Cheng sighs, shakes his head. “Come on,” he says again, and drags Wei Wuxian from the room.

Alone, Lan Wangji sinks into the water. Wei Wuxian’s words reverberate in his mind with aching persistence: when you get back home.

Could this human truly mean to release him?

¤¤¤¤¤¤

Over the next couple of days, Wei Wuxian visits regularly. He comes in the morning, before the sun has risen. He comes midday, clothes rumpled and stinking of sweat. And then he comes once more at night. Each time he always brings something, never once empty-handed. Sometimes it's drinking water and fresh fruit, sometimes porridge or a more flavorful dish. Although Lan Wangji never reacts, Wei Wuxian seems to enjoy introducing him to new human foods.

"Wow, you really cleaned out that last bowl! So you like steamed wuchang fish after all, eh? Fish brother, you really are lucky to end up in Yunmeng. Just think, you could've gotten stuck in a different part of the human world where the people eat boring food, haha! My shijie is making rib and lotus root soup tonight. I'll definitely save some for you! If you liked the last dish, just you wait . . ."

Lan Wangji still isn't sure how he feels about human cuisine. Some of the spices are a bit too strong for his liking. In truth, he is homesick for the plain, reed broths of his own home. But Lan Wangji has always been taught not to waste food, and he has to admit, there is something comforting about being looked after so conscientiously.

One day, Wei Wuxian brings a bottle of oil and a comb.

"For your hair," he explains, running the comb through his own locks to demonstrate. The movement is charming, as is the little awkward laugh that follows it. Lan Wangi’s tongue suddenly feels too thick for his mouth. He realizes he’s staring, and Wei Wuxian must realize it too, because his cheeks redden slightly. But then Wei Wuxian is striding over to the washtub, his gait confident and without a care in the world.

“I thought you might want to spruce up a bit,” he says. “No offense but you’re looking a little rough these days.”

Lan Wangji has never been a vain person, as pride in one’s own physical appearance is forbidden by the Lan sect. He is, however, fastidiously disciplined in keeping himself neat and orderly. He glances at the long, knotted strands of hair hanging over his shoulders and feels a wave of dismay. Has he ever neglected his own appearance this long before? Why didn’t Wei Wuxian say something sooner?

“Not that you look bad or anything,” Wei Wuxian says quickly. “You’re still the most handsome fish brother out there. If it weren’t for me, you’d probably be the most handsome person in Yunmeng, too.”

He laughs at his own joke, face splitting into a wide grin. Lan Wangji, momentarily distracted from his own self-inspection, swallows thickly. On the one hand, he is disgusted by Wei Wuxian’s vanity. On the other, he is . . . unsettled. This Wei Wuxian with his long, unruly and yet somehow silky black hair; his sharp, mischievous features; and his hard, lean physique under purple robes--this Wei Wuxian thinks Lan Wangji is handsome.

‘He’s just joking,’ Lan Wangji scolds himself harshly. ‘Don’t let mere teasing put you in turmoil.’

But Lan Wangji can’t help but startle when Wei Wuxian lifts a strand of his hair, fingertips barely brushing the ends of his forehead ribbon. Panicking, Lan Wangji smacks the hand away. Wei Wuxian grumbles something about “only trying to help,” but doesn’t try to touch him again.

When Lan Wangji finishes combing his own hair, Wei Wuxian brings him a bronze hand mirror. Lan Wangji almost expects to see a different face staring back at him, but no--the reflection is his own. It’s strange, to have gone through so much and yet somehow still be the same person. Strange, and grounding.

Wei Wuxian props an elbow on the edge of the tub. “See? Now you’re definitely the handsomest.”

¤¤¤¤¤¤

As more time passes, Wei Wuxian continues to talk to Lan Wangji. He talks about Lotus Pier. He describes what the pavilion looks like, as well as the training field. He describes the number of disciples, who is who and what they’re good at. He tells Lan Wangji about the tiny mishaps that occur during that day’s practice, such as Jiang Cheng accidentally stepping in a pile of horse shit on their way to the archery range (Lan Wangji isn’t sure what a horse is, but apparently it takes massive shits). He tells Lan Wangji, in great detail, of his own prowess with the blade and bow. He shows him his sword--“Suibian,” Wei Wuxian says proudly, and Lan Wangji gives him a blank expression, because nothing would surprise him at this point--and even twirls it around, showing off a few moves.

As he talks, Wei Wuxian is hardly ever still. Sometimes he is crouched at the low table, preparing food or medicine. Other times he is pacing, gesturing animatedly. And then sometimes, when it’s late and everyone in Lotus Pier has already gone to bed, Wei Wuxian pulls open one of the screen doors to let in some fresh air. Leaned against the doorframe, either standing or sitting with his long legs stretched out, Wei Wuxian continues speaking. His profile is sharp in the moonlight, the lake black in the distance behind him. Sometimes he has a jar of wine with him, which he always offers to Lan Wangji, who always silently refuses. Other times he brings out a small, black musical instrument--something he tells Lan Wangji is a dizi. Lan Wangji closes his eyes as Wei Wuxian plays, letting the music carry him far from this small shed, far over the lake, into the sky with its last fading notes. But sometimes he keeps his eyes open to watch Wei Wuxian; watches his legs--how they cross or uncross, raise, bend, lie flat--or watches his face. He’s never seen someone whose smile could look so sad, who with a tilt of their head could almost beckon hither. ‘Come,’ his closed eyes seem to say. ‘Listen to my song, and I will tell you . . . I will tell you . . .’

Lan Wangji is not sure who he prefers: this still, pensive Wei Wuxian, or the Wei Wuxian who skips and bounds, who laughs with sincerity and without restraint.

In addition to talking and telling, Wei Wuxian asks questions. He does it in odd places, almost like he’s trying to trick Lan Wangji into answering. “It’s the season for lotus pods. I think I should steal some from the neighbors. What do you think, fish brother?” Or, “I can’t believe Jiang Yanli is still gonna marry that peacock! I really can’t stand it, fish brother. Even if he prayed for five thousand years, Jin Zixuan wouldn’t come close to deserving my shijie. By the way fish brother, what’s your name?”

Lan Wangji considers answering. Is there really any harm in it? But the thought of talking to Wei Wuxian after having stayed silent for so long makes his stomach roll. He feels a little ridiculous, really. So Wei Wuxian talks, and Lan Wangji continues to listen. It can be annoying, especially if Lan Wangji is trying to eat. A few times Lan Wangji closes his eyes and pretends to fall asleep just so Wei Wuxian will shut up. He even considers using the silencing spell. But after a while, Lan Wangji grows to expect it. Eventually, he stops noticing altogether.

And then one day, Wei Wuxian does not talk at all.

He arrives at night, later than usual. Lan Wangji straightens in his tub, waits for the customary greeting and subsequent tirade of small talk, but none comes. Wei Wuxian simply brings the tray in his hands over to the small table. He doesn’t once meet Lan Wangji’s gaze.

Lan Wangji’s concern is instantaneous. He scrutinizes Wei Wuxian’s face, observes the dark circles under his eyes, the dryness of his lips, the flush of his forehead and cheeks. Has he fallen ill? If so, he should be resting, not taking care of Lan Wangji. Or perhaps something has happened to a member of the Jiang family Wei Wuxian cares so much about. Or maybe he suffered an injury during training. Or--

Wei Wuxian suddenly leans over, interrupting Lan Wangji’s thoughts with a steaming bowl of soup. During this exchange, their eyes finally meet. Wei Wuxian blinks, taken aback, then offers up a weak smile.

“Sorry--I’m just tired today,” he says gently. “Are you hungry? I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

Lan Wangji feels the muscles in his jaw relax. He looks down at the bowl in his hands, pretending to be interested in its contents. Wei Wuxian watches him for a moment, then lays both forearms on the edge of the tub, chin drooping until it is propped atop them.

“It’s kind of embarrassing, actually,” he mumbles. Lan Wangji glances at him from the corner of his eye. “I got in trouble this morning for talking back to Madam Yu. Jiang Fengmian is away at a discussion conference, so she beat me a little bit and then made me kneel in the hall of the ancestors for hours. What am I, a little kid?”

Lan Wangji uses the spoon to scoop up some broth and vegetables, but he doesn’t really feel hungry anymore.

“Actually, fish brother . . .”

Lan Wangji glances at Wei Wuxian more fully this time. Wei Wuxian’s lip quirks, somewhere between a grimace and a smile.

“I have a confession,” he says sheepishly. “Since you can’t understand me, it’s okay if I just tell you, right? When I got in trouble today, I caused some problems for Jiang Cheng and shijie. I felt really bad about it, so when Madam Yu released me from the Ancestral Hall, I snuck a jar of wine back to my room and drank it all. Then I took another jar and I drank that, too. That’s why I was late bringing you dinner. I really am a bad caretaker, aren’t I? Please forgive me, fish brother. I promise to do better in the future . . .”

He trails off in a yawn. Lan Wangji is feeling less sympathetic now. He gives Wei Wuxian an exasperated look, but Wei Wuxian’s eyes aren’t open to see it. Even so, he continues talking, his voice an exhausted slur.

“Do you miss your family, fish brother? What am I saying, of course you do. They must miss you, too. You’ve been away for so long now. Don’t worry--you should be able to go home soon. You’re getting better every day . . . You’re doing a really great job . . .”

Lan Wangji sniffs--the closest thing he’ll allow himself to a chuckle. But he’s not really sure he finds anything about this situation funny.

Wei Wuxian snores softly while Lan Wangji drinks his stew. He’s still snoring when Lan Wangji leans over the edge of the tub to set the empty bowl on the floor. Lan Wangji wonders if he should wake him. As he ponders, a crease forms between Wei Wuxian’s brows. A shudder runs through his shoulders. Is it cold, Lan Wangji wonders? It’s hard for him to tell, with all of the warming talismans Wei Wuxian leaves plastered to the washtub. Lan Wangji hesitates, then slowly begins to remove his outer robe. Weaved from jiao xiao sha, the fabric is dry, despite having been in the water all day. He lays it across Wei Wuxian’s shoulders. The crease between his brows smooths. Satisfied, Lan Wangji settles back. He watches Wei Wuxian for a while, then lets his own eyes slip shut.

When Lan Wangji awakens in the morning, Wei Wuxian is gone, and the robe is folded neatly on the low table beside a bowl of porridge.

¤¤¤¤¤¤

When the door opens that afternoon, Lan Wangji expects a chagrined Wei Wuxian to greet him. Instead it’s Jiang Cheng.

The look he gives Lan Wangji as he slams the tray down on the table is anything but friendly. He doesn’t say anything, either. Lan Wangji wants to ask him why Wei Wuxian isn’t here--if he got sick or if he was punished again. But his aversion towards this arrogant human is far greater than his curiosity, so he remains silent.

Before he leaves, Jiang Cheng pauses at the door.

“Wei Wuxian may trust you,” he snaps, whirling around, “but I don’t. And if you do anything to hurt him, I’ll chop your fins off and fry them! G-got it?!”

His threat is undermined by the slight stammer at the end. Reddening, Jiang Cheng whirls on his heel and slams the door behind him.

Lan Wangji takes a moment to process this. Him, hurt Wei Wuxian? How? His sword, of course, is still kept within arm’s reach, but what motive could he possibly possess? Despite his confusion, Lan Wanji can’t help but feel that this interaction serves as a reminder. He and Wei Wuxian are not the same, and Lan Wangji will never truly be safe here. He’s let himself get too comfortable.

Lan Wangji is still brooding when the door opens again that evening. This time it actually is Wei Wuxian. He’s carrying a large bucket of fresh water and a satchel slung over his shoulder.

The satchel is moving.

Wei Wuxian sets the bucket of water down with a grunt. “Sorry I’m late! Did Jiang Cheng give you trouble?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes narrow, staring pointedly at the satchel. Wei Wuxian grins.

“Hehe. So you noticed, huh? Do you want to see what’s inside?”

Without waiting for an answer, Wei Wuxian crouches down and removes the satchel. He opens it just barely. Intrigued, Lan Wangji peers inside.

Two red, beady eyes blink back at him from within the softest, furriest white face he’s ever seen.

“I brought a friend!” Wei Wuxian declares. He scoops the creature out, holding it up for Lan Wangji to see. “Isn’t it cute? Have you ever seen one of these, fish brother? It’s called a rabbit. That peacock brought some for my shijie today to keep as pets. Hmph. Such a suck-up. But that’s why I was late. I was helping shijie take care of them. It’s so soft! Feel.”

Lan Wangji’s hand, which up until this point has been gripping the edge of the tub, is suddenly snatched up by Wei Wuxian. A strangled protest rises and dies in Lan Wangji’s throat. Wei Wuxian’s fingers are rough and warm, like driftwood in the sun. He guides Lan Wangji’s hand, pressing it gently against the creature’s back. The rabbit, too, is warm, but also shivery and frail beneath its fur. The pink eyes swivel in Lan Wangji’s direction. Its nose twitches. Lan Wangji strokes it softly, slowly, afraid of startling it away.

‘What strange fins it has,’ he thinks. The back fins are long--almost as longs as its entire body. Lan Wangji suddenly realizes that he has never seen Wei Wuxian’s fins. They are always covered in dark leather boots. What must they look like?

He suddenly feels Wei Wuxian’s eyes on him. He’s watching closely, an absent-minded smile on his lips. The expression is too fond, too open. It makes Lan Wangji’s stomach twist.

“Do you want to hold it?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji cradles the rabbit in his arms while Wei Wuxian empties the tub and changes out the water. This procedure is always an ordeal. The first time it happened, Wei Wuxian had actually carried Lan Wangji out of the tub.

"I'm going to pick you up now," he'd said, entirely serious, and Lan Wangji had been so aghast he'd almost asked Wei Wuxian if he'd lost his damn mind. The next thing he knew one arm was around his waist, fingers digging into his ribs as Wei Wuxian pulled him up and out of the tub. When he actually slid his other arm beneath Lan Wangji's tail--the space right below his rump--Lan Wangji almost threw up. It was humiliating to be so defenseless, to be manhandled so easily. It was revolting. It was exhilarating. It was the smell of freshly washed skin, of wine and citrus. It was being close enough to see a blemish on Wei Wuxian's chin, to see the shadow cast by his long eyelashes.

Ever since then, Lan Wangji climbs out of the tub by himself, even if he has to drag himself across the floor like a literal fish out of water. It doesn't stop the thoughts though--the thoughts of Wei Wuxian, and how it felt to be in his arms.

Wei Wuxian always has to make multiple trips before the tub is refilled. It never seems to bother him, though. Today he is in an especially good mood, humming to himself and sneaking Lan Wangji amused glances as he passes to and fro.

“There!” he says at last, smacking the side of the washtub. He sets the empty bucket down and plops onto the floor beside Lan Wangji, huffing and puffing dramatically. Their shoulders brush.

“That little guy really likes you,” Wei Wuxian says after a moment’s pause. “I think he might like you even more than me. After I fed him all those carrots, too! Hmph. So ungrateful.”

Wei Wuxian tugs on the rabbit’s whiskers, making a face. Lan Wangji hesitates. Does Wei Wuxian covet the rabbit? Perhaps these creatures are of some great significance to humans. Jiang Yanli’s suitor did bring them as gifts, after all. Lan Wangji may have been greedy, keeping it to himself for too long. Hesitantly, Lan Wangji leans forward. Wei Wuxian’s face goes momentarily blank with surprise, hands instinctively raising to take the rabbit as Lan Wangji passes it over to him. Lan Wangji then sits back, watching Wei Wuxian’s face carefully for a reaction. A moment passes, and then Wei Wuxian snorts. His face is amused, like Lan Wangji has just told a funny but particularly ridiculous joke.

“Er, thanks, fish brother. You’re very thoughtful.”

Lan Wangji gazes upon Wei Wuxian’s smile just a fraction longer than necessary before dropping his eyes back down to the rabbit. Thankfully Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to notice. He’s already talking again.

“Do you like animals, fish brother? If so, I can bring the rabbit to visit you again tomorrow. Although maybe I shouldn’t. If I do that, he might start to get attached, and then he’ll be sad once you’re gone. He’ll probably stop eating. That’d be no good. If he stops eating, he’ll get too thin, and then he won’t be as tasty.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes snap back to Wei Wuxian’s face in shock. The mischievous twinkle in Wei Wuxian’s eye brightens.

“This guy is gonna make a really good rabbit stew. Do you want to try it, fish brother? I’ll tell shijie to make it tomorrow so you can--”

“No!"

Wei Wuxian nearly drops the rabbit. Lan Wangji freezes. His voice sounds strange to his own ears after so many days of disuse. He swallows thickly, afraid to look at Wei Wuxian but also afraid to look away. The room fills with the chirps of crickets and the lapping of distant lake water.

Wei Wuxian bursts out laughing.

“Seriously?!” he croaks. “You could understand me all this time? Fish brother! Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Lan Wangji averts his gaze. “You wouldn’t stop talking.”

Wei Wuxian snorts.

The conversation that follows lasts long into the night. Wei Wuxian wants to know everything about Lan Wangji.

"What's your name?"

For some reason, he does not want to reveal his courtesy name. "Lan Zhan."

"So your surname is Lan? Is your family big? Are there a lot of Lans?"

" . . . Yes."

"Hmm. I thought so. With your sword and guqin, there's no way you didn't come from some fancy cultivation clan. So . . ." Wei Wuxian scoots closer. Both he and the rabbit stare fixedly back at Lan Wangji. "Is your home far from here? Do you live in the lake? It's the lake isn't it? I always knew there was something strange about Yunmeng Lake! Are there a lot of you? How many?"

Lan Wangji frowns. Sighing, Wei Wuxian relents.

"It's a secret? Fine, I get it, I get it." He tugs on the rabbit's ear. It wiggles fiercely against his chest, trying to escape. "Oh! Fish broth-- I mean, Lan Zhan. Is it true that your kind weaves jiao xiao sha? Is that how your robe always stays dry?"

This seems like a harmless enough question. Lan Wangji gives a curt nod. "Mn."

"Wow . . ." Wei Wuxian fingers the edge of Lan Wangji's sleeve with his free hand. Lan Wangji's entire arm starts to tingle. Wei Wuxian must notice him bristle, because he lets go, his broad, goofy grin somewhat apologetic.

"So the legend is true," he says thoughtfully. "Y'know, a guy lost a bet to me one time. He didn't have any money, but he said he could give me a cloak made of jiao xiao sha. But when it rained, that thing got soaked! It had a nice color, though, so I gave it to shijie." He bounces the rabbit on his lap, considering. "Ah! What about the other legends, like being able to transform? I thought jiaoren could disguise themselves as people so they could walk on land."

Lan Wangji looks away. "Some do."

" . . . But not you?"

"It is an arduous process. One must learn3."

"Then you should hurry up and learn! That way, you can come back to visit, and I can show you the world outside of this shed. I'll take you to the training grounds--we can even spar, haha. I'll show you other animals too, like horses, and cats. No dogs though."

"What are dogs?"

"Er, not important, don't worry about it. But Lan Zhan, I'll take you to all the best places to eat, too! There's so much good food in the human world, you won't be able to stand up after we try it all."

"To transform and enter the human world, one must first receive permission."

Wei Wuxian scowls. "Whatever. Just sneak out. We'll have so much fun, it'll be worth it, I promise!"

Lan Wangji's voice is firm. "No. This is one of the Lan sect's three thousand rules."

"Three--three thousand?!" Wei Wuxian stammers. "How is that even possible?"

Lan Wangji doesn't understand his surprise. "Do human cultivation sects not have rules?"

"Well yeah, but not three thousand of them. Lan Zhan, you must have lived a sheltered life so far. You really, really need to come back to Lotus Pier one day. I'll show you the better things in life."

Lan Wangji tries to imagine himself in a human body, exploring alongside Wei Wuxian. His chest aches for it.

"Not interested," he says.

There's a spark of genuine hurt in Wei Wuxian's disgruntled face. He leans back slightly, poking at the rabbit's chubby cheeks.

"Fine. You're definitely missing out, though! I could introduce you to some really pretty girls. If you think jiaoren girls are beautiful, just wait until you see human ones! Especially the girls in Yunmeng, haha. We have the prettiest and handsomest people of all."

"Ridiculous," Lan Wangji grits out.

"Eh? Why?" Wei Wuxian bats his eyelashes. "Aren't I good looking?"

Words tangle in Lan Wangji's throat. He glares, the muscles in his face growing tighter and tighter. Wei Wuxian drops the act. He laughs, nose wrinkling in a way that reminds Lan Wangji of the rabbit.

'Cute,' Lan Wangji realizes, and the revelation leaves him breathless.

Wei Wuxian’s questions are infinite. He asks about Lan Wangji's family--"uncle and brother"--but is kind enough to refrain from prying after his parents. He wants to know what the food is like, and each time Lan Wangji describes a dish--"reeds and raw salmon, snails boiled with fungus"--he exclaims how much he wants to try it.

"Even though it sounds a little bland," he admits. "Don't worry. I'll give you spices to take home. But, Lan Zhan--is it really true that you guys eat humans?”

For some reason this question stings. “Don’t be absurd.”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “That’s just what I heard some people say--that jiaoren eat humans4. So it’s not true?”

“ . . . I don’t know,” Lan Wangji admits grudgingly. “Perhaps some do.”

“But not your sect?”

“No.”

Wei Wuxian’s grin brightens. “Ha! I knew it. Jiang Cheng was wrong.”

He asks more about Lan Wangji's home--what it's called, what it looks like. He closes his eyes as Lan Wangji describes the white limestone walls, the schools of carp glinting through forests of long, wavering lotus stems. He doesn’t mention the tunnels, or the caves and springs hidden beneath the bottom of the lake. These are secrets that must be guarded.

“Sounds really nice,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “What about the girls? Are they pretty? Haha, don’t look so angry. I’m only teasing.”

He of course also asks about cultivation methods. Lan Wangji is less recalcitrant on this topic. It is, after all, possible to give Wei Wuxian some basic information without revealing the Lan sect’s methodology.

“Qin,” he says. “And blade.”

“So your guqin is a spiritual weapon!” Wei Wuxian realizes. “Is that why it won’t make any sound when I play it? Does it have to be played by you?”

“No.”

"Oh." Wei Wuxian is crestfallen. "So it is broken."

"It can be played," Lan Wangji says, after a brief spell of deliberation. "But only underwater."

He looks up and holds Wei Wuxian's gaze. The silence between them is somber. Wei Wuxian's eyes flicker toward his tail. The gash in the fin is now a jagged patch of rough, newly woven flesh. He gives Lan Wangji a sad smile.

"If I take you back to the lake, will you play for me?"

¤¤¤¤¤¤

Lan Wangji watches as the faint lights of Lotus Pier recede with the shore. On the boat, a lantern hangs from a pole, illuminating the lake's rippling surface. They pass clusters of water hyacinths and water lilies. Wei Wuxian plucks a blossom and tucks it behind Lan Wangji's ear. Face twisted, Lan Wangji flings it into the bottom of the boat. Wei Wuxian responds with raucous laughter.

Occasionally they stop to pick lotus pods. Wei Wuxian eats the seeds slowly, lingering as if on purpose, until the barest edges of the horizon glow a pale, pre-dawn grey.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji murmurs.

Wei Wuxian pauses mid-chew. Resigned, he drops the lotus pod and lifts the oar. He rows with the grace and assurance of one who knows these waters.

"'Vast sea, bright moon,'" he bellows suddenly. "'The pearl has tears5.' Lan Zhan, don't cry too much if you miss me. You shouldn't waste your pearls."

Wei Wuxian has been rowing for some time when Lan Wangji finally speaks.

"Stop."

Wei Wuxian complies. Without further ado, Lan Wangji plunges over the side of the boat and into the water.

The boat rocks violently in his wake. Wei Wuxian grips the side, bewildered. A second passes, and then Lan Wangji reemerges a good distance away. Wei Wuxian's face relaxes. Lan Wangji dives underwater, hardly leaving a ripple behind as he swims back over to the boat, his tail like a long, white ribbon waving in the current.

"Ok, ok. I can see you're a fast swimmer," Wei Wuxian chides. "You don't have to show-off. Does it feel that good to be back in the water?"

"Mn."

Wei Wuxian clucks his tongue. Standing, he undoes his belt.

Lan Wangji's eyes sharpen. "What are you doing?"

He drops the belt. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Then the outer robes. "I'm undressing."

"Why?!" Lan Wangji demands, frantic. Wei Wuxian yanks off his boots with a wink. Lan Wangji is momentarily distracted by the sight of his fins. Except they’re not fins after all. They’re something stranger, flat and rectangular and confusing.

"Because not all of us have clothes made of jiao xiao sha,” Wei Wuxian answers. He slips one arm out of his undergarments, and Lan Wangji's stomach cramps like he's about to be sick. He turns away just in time.

The splash behind him shatters the night. Moments later, a spluttering Wei Wuxian pops his head out of the water. He grins cheekily.

Lan Wangji has heard of humans who can swim, but he has never seen it. He observes closely as Wei Wuxian’s legs and strange flins flash beneath the surface. He paddles over easily, eyes never once leaving Lan Wangji’s face.

“See?” he grins. “I can swim well too. Wanna race?”

“Qin,” Lan Wangji says simply.

Wei Wuxian’s mouth puckers in a pout, but he swims back to the boat obediently. He returns with a qiankun pouch. Lan Wangji reaches into the pouch and retrieves his guqin. It is cool and solid in his hands.

He has missed this.

“What song will you play?” Wei Wuxian asks. “A cultivation song? A folk song?”

“Listen and learn,” Lan Wangji replies, and he ducks beneath the surface.

It is refreshing to move with such ease again, to have the firm support of water against his body. Wangji, always obedient, follows his movements, sinking until it is at the level of his waste and staying there. Lan Wangji’s fingers hover over the strings. What shall he play?

As he deliberates, Wei Wuxian descends in front of him. His arms and legs look especially ridiculous treading water, and his hair floats wildly around his face. Not to mention his cheeks are puffed out as he holds in his breath. Lan Wangji hopes he can always remember this ridiculous man who has cared for him so diligently. This man whose bare chest and toned, tiny waist are bared so brazenly now before him.

Lan Wangji catches himself and drops his eyes to the guqin. He needs to still his mind. He knows exactly what song to play.

The first note is a focused ray of soft blue light. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen, following it as it pierces through the water past him. It is followed by the next note, a falling glow that diffuses around Wei Wuxian and lingers, sparkling. Sleeves billowing, Lan Wangji illuminates the depths of Yunmeng Lake with music and light, with the words of gratitude he will never be able to say. He plays his song to Wei Wuxian, and to Wei Wuxian alone.

When Lan Wangji strikes the final chord, Wei Wuxian’s lips part, releasing small air bubbles. His eyes crinkle in a smile. Then the lids grow heavy. Lan Wangji releases the guqin and seizes Wei Wuxian’s arm just as his body starts to go limp. Pulling Wei Wuxian against him, he swims to the surface.

Wei Wuxian moans slightly as the air hits his face. His head rolls onto Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

“Lan Zhan,” he mumbles. “That song . . . What was it?”

“Rest,” Lan Wangji says, which is partly true. It just happens to be a particular variation that induces drowsiness.

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian answers quietly. “It’s nice. I like it.” He yawns, then frowns. “But suddenly I feel so tired . . .”

Lan Wangji watches as Wei Wuxian’s head continues to droop, and his eyes finally slip shut. His breath is even and warm against the crook of Lan Wangji’s neck.

“Goodnight, Wei Ying.”

¤¤¤¤¤¤

When Wei Wuxian wakes, it’s to a sapphire, cloud-dappled sky.

He blinks around himself, confused. He’s in a boat--the same boat from last night. He raises his head, peering out to see the familiar sight of Lotus Pier. Frowning, he pushes himself up into a sitting position with a grimace. There’s a sharp crook in his neck. He raises his arm to stretch when something falls from his shoulders. He glances down. It’s a white robe, one that is hauntingly familiar.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes go round. He leans over the side of the boat, glancing anxiously around the water.

“Lan Zhan?” he whispers.

He stares into the lake, as if waiting for it to answer. After a moment he leans back, heaves a bitter laugh.

“That trickster,” he mutters. He lets his gaze wander across the dock, amongst the pink and white clusters of lotus flowers. Sighing, he lays back again and stares up at the sky.

“We probably won’t ever have the chance to meet again,” he thinks aloud. “Right?”

¤¤¤¤¤¤

The sacking of Lotus Pier rocks the cultivation world. In one night, the familiar emblems of the Jiang sect disappear, replaced by red flags with golden suns. Yunmeng, once known for its lively atmosphere and bustling markets, goes silent. Civilians hurry through the streets with their heads down and their lips sealed.

However, eyes are reluctantly drawn to the appearance of an elegant young man. He is slender and robed in white, with noble features. Bystanders speculate that he is from some distant cultivation sect unassociated with the Wens. Since times are strange, they make sure to avoid him.

Weary of the stares, the man enters a teahouse. He sips from his cup, unobtrusive despite his remarkable features. As he drinks, he can’t help but pick up on the conversation from a nearby table.

“My wife’s brother was on duty that night. Her family couldn’t even recover his ashes.”

“It’s barbarism, that’s what it is. The Jiang clan always conducted themselves like true heroes. How dare the Wen clan--”

“Sh! Do you wanna die?”

Silence falls. After a few moments, the first man continues speaking. His voice is incredibly low.

“I heard Jiang Wanyin joined up with the Nie sect in Hejian. I wonder if they stand a chance.”

“If anyone does, it’d be those two. Although it’d be great if Wei Wuxian was with them.”

“Hmph. Who knows where that one is? Probably at the bottom of a ditch.”

The cultivator, who until this point has listened without expression, stills. His jaw clenches and his grip tightens around the teacup.

“Well I don’t believe it! Wei Wuxian was the rising star of the Jiang sect. I think he’s working in the shadows. He’ll definitely reappear.”

“You’re too optimistic. By the way, did you hear about the strange things happening at the Yiling burial mounds? They say that fierce corpses are . . .”

The cultivator drains his cup. He sets a few coins on the table and exits the tea house.

Lan Wangji knows that he should immediately return to Yunmeng Lake. He has already obtained the goods requested by his uncle. But Lan Wangji does not return. Instead he wanders the streets without purpose. The vendors and salesmen shrink as he passes by, although a few are bold enough to try and show-off their goods. A young woman selling steamed buns flashes him a winning smile.

“Young lord, would you like a taste?”

The scent of a meat Lan Wangji now knows is called pork tickles his throat. Words, unbidden, rise to mind:

I can show you the world outside of this shed. I'll take you to the training grounds--we can even spar, haha . . . I'll take you to all the best places to eat, too! There's so much good food in the human world, you won't be able to stand up after we try it all . . .

Lan Wangji pulls out his qiankun pouch—the same pouch that Wei Wuxian once gave him to hold Bichen and his guqin when Lan Wangji returned to Yunmeng Lake, all those months ago. Lan Wangji takes out a coin and purchases two buns. Then, with great difficulty, he meets the woman’s gaze.

“Which way to Hejian?”

FIN

NOTES:

1. This is me making stuff up for conflict and world-building purposes. It has nothing to do with the actual myth. No disrespect meant. I also want to mention that it sounds like jiaoren live in the sea, not in freshwater. But. I wanted him to live in Yumeng lake, so. Yeah.

2. These are actual parts of the jiaoren myth. The links below have more information. The Sun Jiahui link does have a story about a jiaoren who lived with humans and made cloth. However, if you read the link you will see that she didn't live in captivity and that she seemed to harbor affection for the family. So again, my story does not really line up with the traditional myth and I encourage you to read into it if you really want to know more.

Li Hongrui (2016). Mermaids in Chinese fairytales.

Sun Jiahui (2015). The Chinese Mermaid.

3. I'm back on my bullshit, making stuff up again. Who knows. Don't take my word for it.

4. Who is the person that said it? Me, when I was making stuff up to start drama. This is not part of the traditional lore.

5. This is from Li Shangyin's poem Jin Se, which is often translated as Brocade Zither. I didn't want to quote an official translation so I just kind of slapped this together using a dictionary and google translate, yeah I know it's an eyesore. But . . . I recommend you read some REAL translations of it by scholars who actually speak Chinese and know about poetry. The various translations are vastly, vastly different but there are some Wangxian feels buried there in my opinion. I recommend the following links. Either way, it sounds like some of the translations connect the tears and pearls to the jiaoren legend. Others not so much.

Translation and from Now Where Was I? A Buddhist Blog.

Translation and analysis from Dalriada Books Ltd.

Pengfei Wang (2018). English Metaphysical and Mid-Late Tang Poetry: A Baroque Comparison. This includes in-depth discussion of the poet and various translations of the poem on pages 102-109.

#wangxian #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #cql #mdzs #fanfic #my stuff #abuse tw #alcohol tw

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ruensroad · 5 years ago

Text

Lovely Water (it’s in his kiss)

So, does anyone remember this headcanon meme fill with swamp monster!Jiang Cheng? Yeah, so here’s a proper ficlet for it. Featuring Xicheng and lots of thrown fish.

Shoutout to @shakespearean-ginger who came up with the au idea in the first place!

He hadn’t meant for the wadded up paper to fall out of the boat, for once. Much like the first time they’d met. It’d bounced out, then been flung back, because his favorite grumpy pile of lake-weed was particular about littering, especially in his waters.

And like every time he did so, both accidentally or not, it came sailing back into the boat around a soft growl from the water. Lan Huan immediately chuckled and sent an apologetic look over the side.

“I didn’t mean it that time,” he said, moving the paper to the small bag he used as a waste basket. “Sorry, Wanyin. This song is being particularly stubborn.”

The boat tilted to the side as two webbed hands curled over the edge, then a black mess of hair and leathery skin was peeking over.

“Sounded nice to me,” Wanyin told him, head tilted as though in thought, brow furrowed. “But I am not one made for music.”

Lan Huan smiled at that and gently tugged on the end of a clump of hair. Those black eyes tracked his every move, but there was trust there, instead of suspicion, and he kept it brief in gratitude. “I’d have to disagree. I’ve heard you and your brother singing in the water.”

“That’s different,” Wanyin blew on the errand strands in front of his mouth with a frown. “That’s just another way to communicate. Yours is not.”

“Am I not communicating, though?” Lan Huan asked him and pulled up his xiao. As always, the movement made Wanyin’s eyes dilate, much like an excited cat’s, and Lan Huan smiled as he gently blew into the flute. The melody he chose was soft, sweet, but melancholy. Heartsick. And as he watched Wanyin sway to the music, he could see the water creature thinking through his words.

“That is sadness,” Wanyin said when he was finished. ‘But also happiness. I do not understand how you can make both with a single instrument what it takes two vocal chords for my kind.”

“That is the power of music,” Lan Huan mused, staring at him now. “And what do you mean, two vocal chords?”

In answer, Wanyin hummed the melody he’d just played. His rich, normal register maintained the sweet song, while a much lower echo underlined it with dark sadness. Just looking at him he could see Wanyin’s neck vibrate with it.

“You have two voices?” Lan Huan asked, awed, and gently pushed some of that hair away to watch his throat bob better. “That’s amazing.”

‘That is my kind,” Wanyin shrugged that off, as he usually did, before his gaze was on his xiao again. “Yours is magic. Play it again?”

Lan Huan smiled, unable to deny him, and did so. Again, Wanyin started to sway, and perked up when he immediately eased into another song, this one far more bright and happy. Love returned.

“You look happy when you make that music,” Wanyin told him, chin on his arms.

“I like that song,” Lan Huan agreed, heart growing soft and fond around the memory of melody. “It was my mother’s.”

“Your mother made the magic too?” Wanyin asked and his gaze flickered to the lake house, where no doubt A-Zhan was making tea, or perhaps a late lunch. “Like your brother.”

“Yes,” Lan Huan smiled. “Music runs in my family, the way it does yours.”

Wanyin huffed at that, but relented. “I suppose it is the same, after all,” he gave him that, then ducked down under the water. He came up quickly, head back and pushing his hair from his face in a cascade of water. It wouldn’t last long, given the thick mess of it, but the sight was enough to make Lan Huan’s mouth go utterly dry.

He still wasn’t sure just what Wanyin was. He had the face and torso of a human, but claws and webbed fingers Of the few times he’d come out of the water waist up, he knew there were gills over his ribs and lungs, but that he also had no trouble breathing regular air. What was under his waist was still a total mystery. Was it a fin? Was it legs? Lan Huan could only guess.

Wanyin’s lake-weed hair was silken, his skin thick but not slimy. He was beautiful the way men were beautiful, with a sharp jaw and slightly crooked nose. Were he human, Lan Huan would not have thought twice in asking him on a date, or for his number at the very least. It was rather alarming that, although Wanyin wasn’t human, he still wished to know the shape of his lips against his own. He wondered if that were wrong of him, or strange.

But Wanyin was also charming, grumpily funny and curt, who loved his music and hated littering, who always returned whatever he threw into the lake, usually with an added fish tossed at his face, and made him laugh. He was handsome and wonderfully scary, and Lan Huan had no idea what to do or how to do it.

All he knew was that he didn’t want it to stop. Not yet.

A clammy palm smacked his cheek lightly, drawing him back to earth and to Wanyin saying his name. He shook his head to clear it and smiled, but the curiosity would not abate.

What was the real danger, he reasoned, just asking a harmless question? Wanyin had answered questions about his kind before. Perhaps he could get away with this too.

“Wanyin, what is your courtship like?” he asked before he could stop himself and bit down a laugh at the dumbfounded blinking that got him. “For your kind?”

“Courtship?” Wanyin tried the word, sounding puzzled. “Which kind?”

It was Lan Huan’s turn to blink owlishly, the implication making his mind stutter. “You have more than one courtship?”

A nod. “For mates,” Wanyin counted off on a claw. “For pups. Courtship differs depending on the intention.”

Lan Huan soaked that in quietly, thinking it over. “So you don’t stay with your breeding partners?”

“Some do. Some don’t,” Wanyin snorted and gave him a pointed look. “Do humans stay with their breeding partners?”

Touche. Lan Huan chuckled and carefully put his xiao in its box and his composition paper in the waterproof folder he’d bought. “Fair enough. Alright then, how do you court a proper mate, not just for breeding?”

Wanyin bared his sharp teeth at him, which Lan Huan had learned was his way of smiling. The very few times he’d met Wei Wuxian, Wanyin’s brother in the lake, he’d seen them both sneering their fangs at each other before starting some sort of mischief. “Fish,” he said, preening. “I am a great fisherman.”

“I’d have to agree, considering how often you throw fish at me,” Lan Huan huffed a laugh.

“Bring you many fish,” Wanyin agreed, though looked a tad grumpy now, or perhaps that was exasperation. Hard to tell as his hair flopped over the side of his face, obscuring one half from view. “But you gave them all back, so I will bring you a better fish tomorrow.”

It was the resolve on his face that had Lan Huan pausing, his heart stuttering to a stop. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Wanyin rolled his eyes. “You give them back,” he said again, slow, as though to a troublesome child. “So you are displeased. You want bigger fish, so I will get you bigger fish to eat.”

Lan Huan felt heat bite into his cheeks and ears at what that implied. “You’re… courting me?” he asked, oddly breathless around the question. “That’s why you throw fish at me?”

More blinking, then a sudden, purplish flush over his own face. “Oh,” Wanyin said, ducking behind the boat, until only his eyes and the top of his head was visible. “You did not know.”

“I thought you were just getting me back for the shoe,” Lan Huan said, quickly covering his hands with his own so he wouldn’t retreat.

‘The shoe for the shoe,” Wanyin huffed, but stayed, and pushed back up with a fang poking between his lips, making his mouth go crooked. “The fish were for you.”

“I wouldn’t have given them back if I’d known,” Lan Huan promised, because apparently it was that easy to say yes to this, even if it made no sense in his head. His heart wanted Wanyin and that was all that mattered. The rest he’d figure out when it came. He could only hope it could work out. Somehow.

For his part, Wanyin looked shocked, then bared his fanged smile. “You accept my intentions?” he asked, hesitant but hopeful.

“Yes,” Lan Huan breathed, and laughed as the boat practically toppled with how fast Wanyin leaned up on the edge. With his arms locked perfectly straight, again Lan Huan was teased with torso and the impression of hips under the water, but little else. One day, he hoped to see Wanyin fully, but for now all that mattered was not falling out.

He shifted his body back, even as he leaned his face in. Wanyin looked pleased, utterly so, his eyes squinted half moons. “How do you court then, if not with fish?”

“We just ask with words,” Lan Huan chuckled as Wanyin pulled a face at that. “Nothing so poetic as yours, I fear.”

“How boring,” Wanyin said, disappointed, and Lan Huan reached out to him before he relaxed back into the water, gently touching his face.

“We also kiss,” he admitted, blushing. “But not like yours, I don’t think.”

“Devil’s kisses,” Wanyin huffed at the title, which Lan Huan had learned his kind had been called, long ago. It had been prominent enough that the lake was now known by the very same name. “Do you think I will drown you?”

He could, Lan Huan knew. It would be so very easy. But he felt no fear, no hesitance as he closed the distance between them.

“You will not drown me,” he agreed and watched those dark eyes soften. This close, he could see they were not fully black, the way they appeared usually. There was a dark brown iris embedded in, and the hint of a pupil at the center. “But you may bite me.”

A huff, but then his lips were claimed and instantly wet, the smell of lake and green pulling him in like intoxicating incense. He made a soft noise and leaned in closer, seeking more, and ended up nearly tipping the boat entirely.

Wanyin laughed, a full, wonderful sound in two voices, and disappeared under the water in a fountain of bubbles while he sat there, blushing and sprawled frantically in the rocking boat. When those gleaming eyes peeked again, he tossed a wad of paper at him. Wanyin smacked it easily back into the basket.

“Finally, something both our kind understand,” Lan Huan mused, gently touching his damp lips.

“Kisses,” Wanyin agreed, chin on his hands again. He looked almost sweet, as much as anything meant to be scary could be sweet, and bared his fangs. “And music.”

Lan Huan smiled, hearing that, and carefully kissed him again. A low hum answered him for it, as though to further prove that sentiment.

Kisses and music. If their hearts were in it, what else did they need?

#ruenwrites #ruenarts #xicheng #lovely water au #this was random but fun #lan xichen #jiang cheng

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