#i want to say yes because lan casted their gaze of her but what if she was always a emanator since she is a general?

[kurokawaia]

❛ Marriage ❜ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ²

Lan Wangji X Fem!Reader

WC; 5.4k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; x fem! reader, afab reader, cunnilingus, oral -> female receiving, overstimulation, come eating, squirting, virginity taking, slightly rough sex, cervix kissing, hickies, marking + probably more i can't think of lmao

REQUEST? YES (link to the request)\

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 :: When her husband comes back to Jingshi reader asks for Lan Wangji to consummate their marriage because she believes its her duty to do so, to satisfy him in bed. Wangji only takes this so far by giving his pretty wife head. Only then a few nights later, Wangji comes home late from hunting and then there they make love to each other.

1.4k more than what i intended to write but thats okay...

part 1 | part 2

m.list | mo dao zu shi m.list

The night air was cool, crisp, with just a low noise of nocturnal creatures stirring in the darkness. The moon cast its silver light onto the landscape; in vain, it was unable to still your fidgeting. Lan Wangji had gone on a night hunt, so he had left you alone in your chambers. That is one of those moments when all will be well, and you know how capable he is at anything bound to come his way, but yet something nags in the pit in your stomach at his absence beside you, to put all at rest.

Those hours ticked so slowly, every single minute pulling on for such a length of time. You walked up and down the room, him on your mind all the while. The strong, silent support had just interwoven itself into the bedrock of your existence, and now that it was gone… you were lost. Finally, you could take the taut silence no longer and went to stand by the window, looking out into the darkness in the vain hope that his familiar silhouette would come toward you.

You finally heard the sound of footsteps as the first light of dawn tinged the world beyond. Your heart lifted within your chest as the door creaked open and you turned to face him. It was Lan Wangji. His robes were not as immaculate as they usually were—slightly ruffled by the night's activities—but his eyes were clear, the calmness sculpted into them once more.

"Wangji," you breathed, feeling the wash of relief from head to toe as he finally arrived.

He stood there, his eyes locking on yours, and even the tension in your shoulders seemed to leave you. "It was a quiet night," he repeated, his voice level and reassuring.

At his words though, you could feel the barrier that time and fate had thrown up like an invisible wall between you, the same one that haunted your marriage. With feelings heightened by his absence, you felt a desperate need to close this gap tonight more than ever.

"Wangji," you started hesitantly, your voice quivering with fear. "I've been considering… about us, about our marriage."

His brow furrowed slightly, a hint of his concern in those eyes. "{Y/n}, you should rest. It has been a long night."

You shook your head as determination thrummed in your heart. "No, I have to say this. I understand the why of our marriage—the duty and the honor—but I want more. I want to be close to you. I want us to be truly united, not just in name."

He took a step closer, his gaze unbreaking from yours. "We are already so close, my bondmate; we do not have to be in a hurry."

He inhaled deeply, summoning all his courage. "Please. Lan Zhan."

The moment his birth name left your lips, something in him shifted. His calm and cool exterior shattered, and raw emotion flirted in his eyes. In a second, there he was in front of you, cupping your face with his hands as he captured your lips with his in a fervent kiss. This kiss had the intensity of everything compacted into it that left you breathless.

Breathe hard, his forehead hung over yours, the moment he let you go. "You don't even know how badly I wanted to hear you say my name, without my telling you, since the moment we met," he said, his voice hoarse with longing. "But we can't rush into it. Not until you're really ready."

You nodded with his words, even as your heart almost broke with longing. "I get it," you whispered, your eyes filling, "I just. I want to be close to you."

He brushed a tear off your cheek with his thumb, not really touching your face. "Fine."

At that sudden change of heart, shock moved your eyes up to his. "For real?" you said, a slight shake in your voice.

"So you want this, don't you?" Wangji asked you.

How Lan Wangji has waited for this moment. Wangji wants his wife with some untranslatable primal need, but he doesn't want to take away her virginity just because she feels it's her responsibility to do so. He wants to wait for that moment where his wife grows to desire him as he does her.

Wangji wants her to love him—really love him—but he gets no prize for refusing her when she looks at him like that, all piteously wide, doe-eyed stare.

The breath on your face was warm, steady, almost demanding, and Lan Wangji's arms held on a fraction tighter. Pulling back a little, you met his gaze. Inside the inferno of your chest, his eyes were burning.

"Lanzhan," you whispered back, his birth name seeming more right on your lips.

His eyes had softened to the sound, and you almost could read the longing and love he held for you. You couldn't contain yourself, so you bent down over him, pressing a gentle kiss onto his forehead. He tensed slightly under your touch.

You went on, bestowing soft kisses all over his face, on the bridge of his nose, on his cheeks, in the corners of his eyes. Each kiss was a promise, an unspoken word of just how much you felt your love for him would overpower you. His skin was warm under the press of your lips, and you felt his heart quicken.

"Zhan," you murmured between the kisses, "I want to show you how much you mean to me."

His hands drew a little tighter, the knuckles digging into the fabric of your robes, one at your back and another at the side. His eyes slammed shut as, with a small exhale, his lips parted ever so slightly. You kept peppering his face with soft kisses, light as feathers but so ripe of emotion.

Finally, when pulling back, his eyes slowly opened again, this time all darkened with desire towards and something deeper, more profound in nature. He reached out and cupped your face with one hand, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek.

"You are everything to me," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "But we must take this slow. I want you to be ready."

"I am! Please, Lan Zhan," you beg, though it felt like you had to do this since you are husband and wife, but there was a throbbing need in you, a need to have him touching your body, to have him fill you up to the brim.

"Lay down on the bed," crooned Wangji as he followed your movement down to the bed, and you hesitantly lay down.

This was your duty as a wife now wasn't it? You have to make sure you please Lan Wangji, alright.    Lan Wangji was trying so hard to give a shit as he had his own urges. He has been in love with you for much longer than he can remember and here you are, wanting to please him, willing to have his cock stretch out your pretty pink virgin cunt.

But he won't take you tonight, he'll savor you tonight, having you beg for more on his tongue until you can't even think straight. Until you recognize your feelings for him. 

Lan Wangji unties your pretty white and blue hanfu robes, the colored robes that distinguish you as a Lan, that display that you are the Hanguang-Jun's wife.

Even more, you are lying naked on the bed, while he was fully clothed. You didn't know what to do or say because you are his wife; hence he could do with you whatever he wants, and him doing anything with you did not include you asking any questions about it.

"Just stay still and don't move," Wangji said, and you nodded at his serious statement. He was just dying to take you right there and then. You looked so small, vulnerable beneath his broad, huge body. You nodded at his stern statement, underlining the word 'don't', as your body stiffened rigid underneath him. He almost held that lingering fear inside him that maybe you would break.

Wangji brushes that thought out and gets things going to feel the good. Not that he feels the same about it, he does this so that you would later understand how much you would need him physically.

Wangji cranes his neck forward, pressing kisses to your soaked clit through your underwear, making you want to clench your thighs around his head. His head was in the way of you doing so, Wangji's hands gripped onto your thighs, reminding you of your place.

"Lan Zhan," you breath out, not knowing what to do at the foreign sensation.

He simply showed no desire to stop, because after all, he was doing it not just to satisfy his needs. Your soft thighs were locked on his broad shoulders, holding you in bed. He did this not just to satisfy himself, but also for your good.    Lan Wangji really wished you to wake up to your needs; otherwise, he would do something he'd regret.

You moaned, hands getting knotted within his long black locks. His bun at the top of his head had come loose, and the essence of his back fell free. Your back wanted to arch away from the tingling sensation, to squirm out of his hold, but you were immobilized—utterly weak under his touch.

"You, stop moving," he intones with a milder iratedness and you obey, trying your utmost not to twitch with the kisses he lathers onto your clit through your wet panties. Lan Wangji moves the fabric to the side, baring your wet folds, and he doesn't hesitate. '

He waited for far too long to finally have a taste of you, and Lan Wangji was going to enjoy himself like there was nobody else there—with you, with your puffy little clit between his lips, sucking it until you came over and over again, with his tongue. Push you with his tongue into overheating.

The grip on your thighs strengthens as you feel his nose bump against your sensitive clit, and your fingers tighten on the hold you had on his hair. A mewl slipped past your plump lips, and the groan of satisfaction rippled through him into your folds. His tongue drags from your soaked hole up to your clit, and moans slip from your lips.

You're desperate to remain quiet and not make any of those lewd noises ring out past your mouth. One of your hands falls from his hair and moves up to cover your mouth which Lan Wangji didn't like one bit. 

"You cover your mouth again and I won't be too nice," Lan Wangji says sternly, pulling your hand away from your mouth, which causes a yelp to leave your lips.

Lan Wangji wants you moaning, whimpering as loud as possible, with your head thrown back hard against the fluffy pillows beneath you and your back arched into his tongue, that is sucking lewdly on your aching clit.

That was the moment when thighs clenched around his head through his restrictive hold, and a moan reverberated into your clit that made you grind down against his face. A chant of his name was spilled from your lips, and he reveled in every second of it.

"Lan! Fee. Zhan! Fee.funny!" You whimpered out, that weird feeling in your stomach as something built up inside you, and you didn't know what it was. "Zhan! St'op!! Fee. weird!!"

"Shhh," Lan Wangji cooed to you against your clit, and you moaned again, the coil in your stomach growing tighter. "You getting close, that's all."

Your eyes widened as he said it. This is what an orgasm would grow to feel like. It feels so good. Closer to your orgasm, two fingers pushed through your folds into your gummy walls, and they immediately found their place. Fingers pressed up against that soft spot deep inside your walls every time he curled his fingers when he inserted them in at a quick pass.

"Yes, that's it, {Y/n}," he moaned against you, his hips rutting into the mattress, trying to relieve some sort of sexual buildup that was anything but getting better.

He was in such dire need of you.

The way your hips pushed back into that rough grind onto his face elicited a groan from you. "Good girl," he praised.

You chant his name, broken letters, and his movements, quicker, hungrier; the single hold he had on your thigh clamped tighter. The coil in your stomach just wound tighter, and the fingers locked more around his locks; they kept him in place, but he groaned more into your folds.

It only pushed me right over the edge, for a moan to spill from the lips at the moment that he pressed his tongue hard against my clit—what was once a soft scream leaving your mouth. The coil in your stomach now unleashed, his face totally drenched. Lan Wangji lifts his head out from your drenched folds; his chin is soaked with your cum.

Your chest heaved with the aftermath, breasts falling to the side from your subtly arched back. His chest swelled with a need for you but he wanted to wait for you; wanting to wait for you to want him. He wants you to want him out of love for him, not respect or responsibility as his wife.

Just your pure love, that's all he wants.

'I'm not through with you," were his final words just before his tongue started, once again, to toy with your clit, over except for you.

"Lan Zhan!" you cried in shock from how overwhelmingly the sensation was, a loud moan slipping past your lips, and your thighs clenched extremely tight around his head. This time, he wouldn't let you block his airways, his hands trying to pry open your thighs. And this time, he really would make you come with nothing but his tongue.

And so you did, a thousand times. Over and over your clit throbbed and ached. Your pussy ached and gaped for more, but he didn't give it to you. You'd begged for him to stop, but you knew he wouldn't. Lan Wangji knew you didn't want this, no matter your actions and words. Your cunt begged harder for more and more releases.

Lan Wangji continued to lap up from your folds, and you were definitely sure of a different sensation bubbling inside. "Zhan! Wait!" You whimper, but still your juices spill out from your cunt all over his face, the liquid obviously wetter than earlier.

Lan Wangji stood from between your legs, the realization that it was you who just squirted. A wave of tiredness swept your countenance and you sluggishly went down like a sack of potatoes, submitting to the warm clutches of slumber, and Lan Wangji sighed. Before Lan Wangji could allow himself to catch some sleep beside you, he had to tidy you up, which he did, cleaned you up quite nicely before he changed the sheets without waking you.

The week after that night in Jingshi was spent with a rededication to closeness with Lan Wangji. Every shared glance and every touch, however fleeting, was a promise of deepened feelings, an unsaid understanding that their bond was growing.

But tonight, the hours inched by, and Lan Wangji had not come back from his night hunt. Anxiety began gripping you in earnest as you strayed to and fro across the chamber, filled only by the doing of such a thing. The night was painted as if to be colder, darker, and one couldn't shake away the fear that maybe something happened to him.

At that very moment, you had been about to head out in the search of him yourself, when the door slid open soundlessly and Zewu-Jun stepped inside. His face was calm but serious.

"{Y/n}," he spoke softly, "Lan Wangji has returned. He is safe."

Relief washed over you, wordlessly brushed past Zewu-Jun amid the aching drumbeat of your heart. You entered the courtyard and found Lan Wangji standing there. A little tattered, with worn spots in his face, was the only flaw in what otherwise was him being all right. At the sight of him, relief came pouring through you, and with it trickling down all worry and fear.

"Lan Zhan!" You choked out, hurtling towards him.

He turned at the sound of your voice, and his eyes widened in almost surprised realization as you closed the distance from him. You didn't bother to say a word; instantly, you just threw your arms up and about him, squeezing him as hard as possible for reassurance that he was actually here.

"Zhan," you started, your voice trembling. "I can't… I can't hold it anymore. I-I've been so scared that I was going to lose you. But then I thought… I realized how much you meant to me."

He pulled his face back just a little so he could see down into your eyes. "{Y/n}…"

"I love you, Lan Zhan," you cried, breaking to pieces inside of yourself. "I love you so, so much. I can't bear the thought of being without you."

His face softened a fraction, eyes alit now with relief and joy in equal measure. "You love me?"

You nodded your head, feeling the weight lift off your chest. "Yes, I do. More than anything."

Lan Wangji's eyes sparkled, then he took you again, drawing you close. "I love you, {Y/n}. So much, for so long. To hear you say it… It means more than I could ever have asked," he stuttered.

He bent forward and took your lips in a kiss that spelled all the passion and love ever withheld. His arms tightened around you as well, through which you felt all his feelings, all that depth stored in every touch, every move. In that kiss was a mixture of relief, desire, and intoxicating love.

And then, without realizing it, the kiss deepened, and you only got yourself lost. The world around you just seemed to fade away—there was only you, Lan Wangji, and the beat of both of your hearts that now thumped against each other.

The spell was broken, and you turned to see Zewu-Jun standing a few paces away, the expression a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment.

"Sorry," he apologized, "but this is not your Jingshi. This is the Hanshi."

His smile warmed as you realized where you were, and a blush started to creep up your cheeks. Still holding your hand, Lan Wangji's thumb rubbed lightly over yours.

"Thank you, brother," Lan Wangji said, warmth flowing in his voice. "We will take our leave."

You never released his hand from yours until you both reached your own chambers, and you never felt like you were floating.

You both rapidly went back to the Jingshi, and the two of you never waited for a moment: his lips were on you. His face closed an inch towards yours in a gentle purpose, and all of a sudden you felt the soft brush of his lips against your own. Across the impassable physical distance, Lan Wangji's hand slides through the back of your neck, and you can feel the warmth of his touch seep into you as you flutter your eyes and close them halfway in satisfaction.

The hand cradling the back of your head, holding it in place, suddenly changes from cradling to directing your chin upward, and your stomach swoops in a sickening wash of vertigo. Lan Wangji's face falls, and his exhale is strong over your neck shell, the pulse of scalding heat almost tangible. A second no more, and it leaves an electric impression in its wake.

While his lips are at yours, his other hand cradles your neck from behind, providing an overall warmth that leaves a shiver running down your spine. His lips press again into yours. The rhythmic dance of our tongues surprises you, and you are lost in that tender exchange. You bury your head in the security of Lan Wangji's shoulder, pulling away from the overwhelming intensity. Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his shoulders for grounding in the now.

Lan Wangji gently manipulates your head to an upward tilt using the tips of his fingers. The moment your eyes lift, meet his, it's all clear, and the flutter in your stomach is palpable. He bends his head to the side of yours, his breath intoxicatingly filling the sensitive skin next to your neck. In another moment, the sensation of warmth coursed into every part of your body and you felt the electrifying connection that joined you both.

His fingers trace down your spine, and somehow it feels like little trails of tingling fire. Lan Wangji's lips find yours once more, in a tender way that deepens this connection between the two of us. The room fades as we become entrenched in this shared intimacy. Your fingers trace at the small of his back now, tracing gentle patterns, and you savour the closeness that lingers between you.

A broken kiss seals together our foreheads, our breaths intermingle in the silence as Lan Wangji meets your gaze, a gaze that he lets an upswell of feelings warm in the shade of water that is shadowing down his face. There is an unspoken understanding in the charged atmosphere, and as his thumb brushes against your cheek, there is a bond—if the words aside should be counted—forged between both.

"Lan Zhan," you exhale. "I want you. so badly."

You back from the desk, and Lan Wangji is matching the action never letting go as you back across the room and to his bed for support. The baseboard of his bed hits on the back of your legs, bending your knees, and you sit back at the edge of his bed.

You offer liquid grace from the table, your every motion definitive, and subtly Lan Wagnji takes your lead. His hands on your hips remain firm and reassuringly in place as you back up, step by purposeful step leading us towards the bed.

So you rise onto the bed, and, by this time, Lan Wagnji is there, too, rising from the Hanfu on a slide, expectation sits still in the space. I slip off your own with a malevolent eroticism. And so, showing without a word the fragile form beneath, I abandon you in your bra.

LAN WAGNJI'S HAND goes on a longing journey: the palm trails up your hips and waist, leaving the rest of the hand to hold your thigh flush against the side of his body—the room charged in the way that we negotiate the unspoken performance.

Wan Wagnji kisses you again, deeply and passionately.

I gasp under the sheer sensation being pounded into my wanting body, and then, in sheer anticipation, your back arches equal to his. The room seems to shrink, not large enough as he unclips your bra and drags the feverent material off your breasts.

His fingers lightly tease the skin above your collarbone. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks.

You take in a deep breath before pushing softly against his lips again, and breathlessly answering, "I'm sure."  Hardly setting your words in a breathy sort of utterance to escape from tremors reacting to the touch already, "I will do anything for you," you add, sighing into your mouth as he brings his lips to mine again.

"I know you would," he murmurs, his hand on your thigh for just a second longer, dragging his two middle fingers down your covered slit, making you jolt and forcing a whimper out of your lips.

Your skirt was still gracing your body, along with your panties. There wasn't even a moment later when your panties weren't tugged by Lan Wagnji and left at an unknown spot. And then the work did commence a heartbeat later when the pad of his thumb teased your clit, back and forth, until he urged a snap of your legs, that brought the smirk leaving hikey in its wake, against the skin of your neck.

Two fingers slid in immediately, inside your heat, and began to curl at your gummy spot. Helplessly you moaned as your arms wound around Lan Wagnji's neck, as if this would help lift some off that pleasure.

"I've found it, have I?" Lan Wagnji asked, slowly moving his fingers in and out of your wet hole and each time he entered again, slowly curling his fingers into your gummy walls.

"You moan as ecstasy sears through each nerve of your body.

"Mmm, please what

"Need you," you whimper out, and he keeps that slow, aching pace. Long fingers curl in at the right time to hit that one spot, which makes you feel so, so good. But he knew that and went on doing this ridiculously slowly, making sure every one of your moans and whimpers was heard.

"More," you choked out, and you felt another smirk roll against his lips.

"You'll get more, I'll take my time with you - " he said to you hotly, breathing into your ear, looking at the task force trailing us, and still wanting to get more out of Light.

"Jus' want you to go f-faster," you say holding back the moan when he curls his fingers once more. "You're such a dirty girl," Lan Wagnji degrades and complies with your request and picks up the pace causing the knot in your stomach to grow.

"Please, please, please," you went on chanting over and over again, asking for an orgasm's release that has a deadly threat lying over your body, "Ngh, Zhan, please."

"Fine, girl, let go," he tells, and a moan of his name leaves your throat. Your back is bending into his chest, his arm slipping around your waist, and you close to him. Lan Wagnji lets himself drop to kiss you again, letting the warmth of the kiss float around when he pulls back. "I'm not done with you; you're going to take my dick all in your tight cunt. You got that?"

You nod dumbly, just wanting to feel the ache deep inside of you.

Lan Wagnji flipped you around, your breast squished tightly against the bed as you felt Lan Wagnji abs press flush against your back which was considerably bigger than your back. His hands gripped the backs of your hands, pressing them into the bed, making sure you wouldn't move out of his iron grip.

He quickly switched his grip, moving your arms to one of his hands and pinned the two with one hand above your head. "Relax," he cooed in your ear, realizing you were tense. 

You felt a big and heavy tip prod at your entrance, you gasped at the thick length. "Lan Zhan," you whimper out. "P-please."

"That might hurt, so breathe," he added, but instead, you did the opposite as you felt your gummy walls invaded by his thick and warm cock.

And Lan Wangji? Dear God, he was trying so hard not to beat into that tight pussy. Your walls squeezed so hard against his dick that he could explode right there and then. "I said breathe. You're too tight." Lan Wangji moaned and the noise went straight to your cunt.

You exhaled the breath you were holding; the initial pain that was there throughout your body had been replaced by pleasure, which coursed now through the veins.

Lan Wangji's breath tickled at your ear, the hot air causing your body to tremble further against his. His cock lodged so deep in your gummy walls it made you mewl out in pleasure, but Lan Wangji wasn't moving; he was keeping himself snug inside your drenched walls, enjoying the pleasure.

Why, had Lan Wangji not mind-hacked himself, he would have combusted right then and there, inside you.

Hot and steamy kisses trail from your ear down to the dip between neck and shoulder, and before you know it, a breathless sigh is escaping you—lips parted just as Lan Wangji rolls his hips into yours with his shaft length, scraping all the sensitive spots of the hot insides of you to elicit a moan to roll off your tongue.

"L-Lan Zhan!" you moan out and your cry is responded to by a deep groan which causes you to tremble beneath him.

But Lan Wangji's legs kept your own spread apart, so that you couldn't move from his trapping embrace while his movements became faster, his cock slipping in and out of your needy hole. He is groaning and panting into your ear.

He was filling you up to the hilt, his tip prodding every hit against that spot which made you moan loudly with pleasure. Repetitive moans leave your mouth while he pounds and grinds into your heat. You had this instinctive urge to press into his length, but it was too heavy; his weight was a force against which you couldn't move. You were utterly hopeless as his thrusts became faster.

"H-ha, you're so big," you mewled out as your body trembled beneath him, and he moved one of his hands off mine to let his bicep wrap around your throat—not tightly but to lift your head from the futon and pillows beneath us. He drew you to him more closely and twisted your head, attaching our mouths in a sloppy, wet kiss. He pushed his tongue inside and groaned deeply at the intensity rising.

Lan Wangji drew back, but thrust harder, hitting your perfect spot. "I feel so good, don't I?" He rasped in your ear as your mouth continued to let out desperate moans.

Tears streamed down your heated cheeks in pleasure as you nodded within his movement-restricting hold. "Such a good girl," He mumbled in your ear chased with a deep groan, your insides clenched at his praise and his hips stuttered in their movements.

You spasmed around his length, your end washing over you, legs shaking as the weight of him pressed down even more than it was. He didn't slow his thrusts, making you whimper in overstimulation, but Lan Wangji helped it; his hips continued to rut into me, further aiding me to ride out your orgasm as he chased his own.

With a groan, his lips mashed against mine once again as his hips slammed into mine, hard, his cum spilling inside you causing you to moan into his kiss.

"'M love you so much," you whimper into the kiss.

"I love you, more," Lan Wangji groaned.

You were sure you were done until you felt his hips roll into yours again and you moaned. "I'm going have sex with you all night, not until you pass out."

The first touch of light that night was just streaming into the curtains, warming the room with deep and rich hues as you moved just a bit, sleeping. Everywhere, small moves each one bringing a reminder of how the previous evening felt and, oh so wonderfully good, sore muscles. Lan Wangji lay beside you in the bed, face at peace, and content, hand lying protectively, possessively over his.

He roused from the brief state of transcendence, returned to his spot, and as soon as he opened his eyes, they met yours. "Good morning," he began in a soft voice.

"Morning," you answered, almost inaudibly and with shyness apparent.

He brushed the hair from your face and whispered, "Are you okay?"

You nodded but wincing a little. "Just a slight sore."

The slightest flicker of concern passed in his dark eyes before he straightened up, extending his hand to help you do the same. "You should sit. I'll bring breakfast here."

As he motioned to leave, you reached out your hand to snag his, pulling him back in for a quick kiss. "Thanks, Lan Zhan."

He smiled, the sight of it filling you with warmth. "Anything for you."

For the next few days, you replayed moments of the night before. The soreness was still there, though met with happiness and satisfaction. And Lan Wangji, as always, was so careful that he practically made sure you had nothing to want for as you recuperated. Insistent on doing most things for you himself, of course, so you could relax and recover.

One fine morning, as you sipped your tea by the window that Lan Wangji had made for you, you just could not help but be full of admiration for how your relationship had transformed. Each and every gesture, each and every look of his that spoke of affection, drew your heart.

"How do you feel today?" he would ask as he passed by to sit with you.

"Better," you leaned your head to one side, resting your forehead against his. "Thank you for looking after me. That's quite a bother and an honor."

He kissed your forehead tenderly. "In my duty and it's always an honor to look after you."

The days which followed were full of soft moments and shared laughter. Lan Wangji was unconditionally supportive and affectionate toward you, which made your recovery much easier. He would find solace in walking the gardens, for he found peace with Lan Wangji. They could stay hours reading in each other's quiet company, basking in the tranquil atmosphere of the Cloud Recesses.

One afternoon, even when you'd just been doing light stretches to work out the lingering soreness, he'd come up to you with a slight smile.

"I have something for you."

You would look up inquisitively. "What is it?"

He holds out a small, intricately carved wooden box. Opening it, you find herbs and salves, all carefully prepared by him to aid in your recovery. "I thought this could help with the soreness.".

Tears of thankfulness welled up in your eyes at this.

"Thank you, Lan Zhan. You're always thinking of me."

He enveloped you in his arms, gently.

"Because you are my everything. Got to make sure you're in good condition when we fuck; can't have you passing out on me now."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | mo dao zu shi m.list

[hawkinasock]

Hihi! I wanted to ask about your chimera!Yanqing AU (LOVE it btw omfg) if that’s okay if not that’s alright just ignore this lol.

Anyway I wanted to ask about the sequence of events between the emanator “my tummy hurts”-ing, getting their head chopped (I’m assuming that did come to pass), and Yanqing regenerating his way into an additional 6 limbs because I assume it didn’t happen right away (unless it did). Like, I imagine the whole regen process started during the “my tummy hurts” phase, but like did Yanqing burst through like some pimple the second there was an opening or was it a slow process?

Also side question/musing: what are your thoughts on Lan’s thought process on this? Or on Abundance!Yanqing in general? Do you think that they know? And if they do, do they just not care?

Hi there, anon!

Unfortunately, I didn't really have a detailed chronology of events prior to your ask... To confirm, yes, the emanator was successfully decapitated by Jing Yuan, after some time of chasing it down and fighting it. As for the time between that and the chimera's appearance, well, I did some brainstorming, and I eventually decided it would happen some time after the decapitation when, simply for the fact that I find a reveal similar to what happens in Dunmeshi more fun <3

Also I lost it at "my tummy hurts". That actually sent into orbit (my editor also loved the pimple simile too). That's basically what happened to the poor guy lmaoo. Stealing that.

But to be specific, he did just kinda sprout from the neck. Had there been no decapitation, he might have manifested in a slightly different form, which gives me leeway for a ton of other potential designs. By the time the emanator was killed, though, its body was disfigured and almost unrecognizable, as the human body inside was attempting to reform using another body that was very much NOT human, and just being completely fucked up from the inside out (mmm eldritch abominations my beloved).

I'll be honest... the aeons' reactions didn't ever occur to me. Since we still know so little about them currently, its hard to gauge how they'd feel, but considering they're omniscient enough to cast their gaze onto their pathstriders, then it's safe to say they'd probably notice.

It's actually a really good question though, considering Yanqing would be an abomination treading the path of the Hunt. We saw a similar scenario in 2.5 with Feixiao, where, despite spending years struggling with her ties to the borisin and the Abundance in general, Lan still cast their gaze onto her in the end in a moment that was very triumphant.

Feixiao and Abundance!Yanqing's situations aren't identical, but you can paint a parallel. If Lan is aware of Yanqing's existence, and it's possible assuming every pathstrider has, at one point, caught the attention of their respective aeons, maybe Lan would see it as a good thing, that even an Abomination can resonate with the Hunt and turn their back against their author.

Or maybe Yanqing's path was Lan's way of taking custody and getting one over on Yaoshi in their endless divorce arc. Who knows. If Lan doesn't actually view Yanqing in a positive light, then they may not see him as an important enough to justify them stepping in. They have emanator's to do that for them, after all, although we saw how well that went...

I hope that answered your questions. Feel free to hop into my ask box if you have any more <3

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 26 part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes! 

I’m Coming Up So You Better Get This Party Started

The Lans arrive just in time to see Cousin Jin Zixun hassling Su She, and they wonder how he has the fucking nerve to come to a party that they are also invited to. 

Su she was invited by his new best friend Jin Guangyao, who deploys a full-on charm attack, wrapping Su She permanently around his little finger. 

Smoother than the Lanling weather that’s how he holds himself together Watch out, he’ll charm you 

Jin Guangyao grew up with women who earned their living by being charming, pleasant, and hiding their true thoughts from their clients, and he appears to have mastered this useful skill set. With Su She, he exudes confidence and authority, allowing the lesser man to bask in his attention.

With Zewu Jun he deploys helplessness and embarrassment, effectively controlling a man with much greater power than his own.

Lan Xichen confronts him about Su She's presence, and Jin Guangyao pretends he didn't know that Su She was ex-Lan. This seems super unlikely, given that JGY is good at collecting information that he can use to fuck with people, and also that he sheltered Lan Xichen from the Wens directly after Su She betrayed him.

Lan Xichen seems like he doesn't believe what JGY is telling him but then he decides to drop it, passive-aggressively saying that since JGY is uninformed, he's not guilty. Lan Xichen is actually assuming a lot here about his right to tell Jin Guangyao who to invite and who to shun, but JGY doesn't push back. Lying is so much simpler.

(more behind the cut!)

Su She wins for most unintentionally sarcastic-seeming toasting expression.

Jiang Cheng, Party Animal

Jiang Cheng arrives at the party, bringing his Jiang retinue and his bad temper. He super obviously casts around to try to find Wei Wuxian, who already told him he probably wasn't coming to the party.

Jiang Cheng is that guy who only comes to a party because the girl he likes said she was thinking about going, and then he spends the whole party saying "hey have you seen Mei Lin? She said she was going to be here but I don't see her."

Jin Guangyao formally congratulates Jiang Cheng on the Jiang clan's success in the hunt, and Jin Guangshan toasts him. As always, Jiang Cheng reacts to praise from authority figures like it's rain in the desert, smiling from ear to ear. He says that the Jiang Clan will donate the prey from the hunt to the other gentry clans. ...what?

Are we seriously saying that when these dudes go night hunting it's not just to remove dangerous bad stuff, it's for profit? 

Like, do they eat monsters? Wear their fur? Make leather from their skin? Carve jewelry from their claws? Is Jiang Cheng wearing a purple monster's skin right now? (There will be an art prompt at the end of this post)

Meanwhile, check out the way Nie Huaisang is looking at Jiang Cheng, wow.

Forecast: Hazing

Having gotten the single pleasant part of the banquet over with, it's time for the Jins to pick on the Lans. Cousin Jin Zixun goads Lan Xichen into taking a drink with him, knowing that this is (mostly) against Lan rules. Jin Guangyao tries to stop him by saying, hilariously, that it's bad to drink and fly on a sword, but CJZX waves this away and keeps pushing, saying that if Lan Xichen won't drink, it's an insult to him.

A random cultivator who is definitely on the Jin payroll backs him up, saying that teetotaling is for losers, and Captain Blowhard boisterously agrees. Loudly agreeing with powerful people is the Yao clan's signature martial arts skill.

Jin Guangyao looks embarrassed and helpless, which is, as mentioned before, his own signature skill. But he's just playing his own part in this piece of theater; everything happening at this party (so far) is happening for the benefit of the Jin Clan. Cousin Jin Zixun is an ass, but he's not actually a loose cannon, and Jin Guangshan is clearly enjoying the Lans' discomfort.

Why? This entire party, the hunt, everything he's done since the end of the Sunshot campaign, has been designed to increase and consolidate his power. His main goal is to get the Yin Tiger seal, but reducing the status of the Lans is also a good move for him. The Lans have been the strongest opponents to the use of resentful energy, and worked the hardest to conceal and contain the Yin iron in the past. If he wants to use resentful energy as part of his own cultivation, he needs them to chill. 

So this is a bit of a test; will they comply with the will of the larger group in order to avoid conflict, or will they refuse, which will allow him to label them as iconoclastic weirdos?. 

Lan Xichen takes a long look at his brother, who is expressing all sorts of emotions while keeping his face very very still. 

At a guess, he is thinking that this entire party is bullshit, that his brother's willingness to play along with these assholes is bullshit, that being viciously beaten for having a single drink in his life was bullshit, that Wei Wuxian not being here right now is bullshit.

Lan Xichen picks the "go along, get along" path, having his drink and using his magic skill of anti-intoxication to neutralize it, as he'd done previously when drinking with Wei Wuxian. 

Cousin Jin Zixun picks on Lan Wangji next, and since he cannot magically or even non-magically tolerate alcohol, there is a real risk to his reputation if he drinks. But Lan Wangji breaks rules when he feels like it, not when people tell him to. He pointedly ignores the offered drink while Lan Xichen looks worried. 

The rest of the party guests have a wide variety of reactions, none of them helpful, to these shenanigans. Jin Guanshan's son and heir watches with calm interest as the power dynamics play out.

All of this is actually not great strategy for the Jins. The Lans don't play little social games to gain power, because all that time they spend not drinking, not gossiping, and not doing other stuff? Is spent cultivating and practicing sword and musical battle forms. The Lan Bros are overwhelmingly powerful as individuals, and embarrassing them won't change that.

It's moot, ultimately, because Wei Wuxian chooses this moment to arrive.

Darkness Visible

Wei Wuxian actually made a big impressive stair-climbing entrance to Jinlintai a few minutes ago, with camera work echoing Lan Wangji's stair climb at the Wen Indoctrination Bureau from several episodes back. 

But nobody was around to see that, other than us, and when he appears at the party it's in stealth mode; he steps into the frame from out of nowhere, and drinks Lan Wangji's unwanted drink.

Lan Wangji responds by looking at him like this for the next several minutes.

Wei Wuxian doesn't have time for their usual sport of Extreme Gazing, though; he came for a reason, which is to find and rescue Wen Ning. He gets right to it, asking Cousin Jin Zixun where he's keeping him.

Jiang Cheng, who is the king of worrying about the wrong fucking thing, jumps up to try to stop Wei Wuxian from talking. Like, seriously, he's ok with the Jins trying to take his clan's special extreme weapon, but he's not ok with his head disciple being rude in order to fulfill a whopper of a life debt--Jiang Cheng's life debt, in particular--or being rude in order to preserve the clan's independence.

Jin Guangshan decides this is a good moment to bring up the Yin tiger amulet. Wei Wuxian pushes back, hard, pointing out exactly what Jin Guangshan is doing. He says he's setting himself up to be a new Wen Ruohan. 

Lan Wangji pays close attention to Wei Wuxian's reasoning here, and so does Nie Mingjue, unless he’s just trying to mask his confusion. 

Jiang Cheng is too busy being horrified to listen, apparently. Or he just doesn’t agree, preferring to be reduced to a secondary authority, rather than defy a primary authority.

Wei Wuxian is, of course, all about independence; he was literally born to be a rogue cultivator, despite being dubbed “patriarch” himself, not long after this. 

Let’s Go Crazy Let’s Get Nuts

Wei Wuxian gets tired of the scene and decides to lose his temper. He makes a show of being enraged, and he genuinely is angry, but I don't think he's out of control, this time.  

He acts like he's out of control in order to scare everyone, but he makes his points very clearly, reminding everyone that he has power they don't have, that he's good at killing, that he's not patient, and that his teeth are nicer than everybody else’s. 

Everybody in the room freaks out to one degree or another--except Jin Guangshan, who is apparently too pissed off to be scared.

It's hilarious that Jin Guangshan thought he was going to get Wei Wuxian to hand the Yin Tiger amulet over by creating a complex system of social pressure against him. Wei Wuxian's favorite way of responding to social pressure is to escalate it into violence, regardless of the consequences; he's been doing that at least since Gusu Summer School and probably a lot longer. Jin Guangshan should know this, given how many beatings his son has taken from Wei Wuxian over the years.

Wei Wuxian does a fantastically sexy scary, theatrical countdown, and Cousin Jin Zixun caves in and gives him the information he wants. It's worth noticing that even under threat of death, CJZX doesn't comply until he visually checks in with his clan leader. He’s genuinely a bad person, yes, but he’s a loyal soldier, which is what most of these clans value most. 

As soon as he gets what he wants, Wei Wuxian is perfectly, smugly, in control of himself again. Everyone in the room is still stunned and afraid, so Jin Guangshan has achieved that much, at least; nobody likes Wei Wuxian having the Yin tiger seal now, including Jiang Cheng. 

As he leaves, Wei Wuxian has one of those conversations with Lan Wangji in which everything is said in glances in the course of a couple of seconds. 

WWX: I love you, I have to leave you; I've got some shit to take care of and I won't be coming back to all of this. 

LWJ: I love you; I'm probably going to have to fight you; your funeral is going to be so upsetting

Wei Wuxian turns away from everyone, and you can see the weight settling on his shoulders, as he contemplates the choices he just made and the choices that are still ahead of him. 

Jin Guangshan, for the first and only time, loses his temper in front of everybody, literally flipping a table because he's so mad about what just happened. 

Art prompt: Jiang Cheng wearing an outfit made of a Chinese mythical creature. Bonus points if it’s a qilin. Bonus bonus points if Zhang Qiling (from DMBJ/Lost Tomb franchise) is standing next to him looking grumpy while Jiang Cheng wears an outfit made from a qilin. 

Soundtrack: Get This Party Started by Pink, Charm Attack by Leona Naess, Let’s Go Crazy by Prince. 

[ibijau]

I don't think I've seen this anywhere (and if you know of any fics that do have this concept, please link!), but what if the events of MDZS (all media) was actually based on history within a modern AU of MDZS?

So like, as an example, you have people speculating whether or not Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were lovers or not in the same way people do with some real historical figures today, some theories that say Nie Huaisang orchestrated everything that go mostly ignored by everyone except those in the #NieHuaisangDidIt community because it's Nie Huaisang, who is largely remembered as a relatively harmless sect leader, etc... Some even still think the Yiling Patriarch was pure evil, though the novel, shows, and audio drama have since made this an unpopular opinion to have.

And then there's Wei Wuxian, be it through reincarnation with regained memories or immortality, listening to all of this in the background.

“I'm just saying that you wrote your thesis on him, so of course you're biased,” Jin Guangyao said. “There's no way Nie Huaisang organised all this. Everyone in that period agrees that he was so stupid he could barely do basic additions!”

“I have a phd and I can't count either,” Nie Huaisang countered. “Listen, I tell you, the proof is all there if you just look.”

Of course, they weren’t called Nie Huaisang and Jin Guangyao, not in this life, but Wei Wuxian wasn't good with names. In fact, after centuries of being alive, he was worse with names than he'd ever been. Thankfully, this crowd Lan Wangji and him had become friends with didn't mind at all the nicknames he'd picked for them.

“And I can prove that Jin Guangyao didn't even die, and made a name for himself in Japan,” Jin Guangyao retorted. “There's this Han man who suddenly appears out of nowhere in the Japanese court, claiming to know great magic, and...”

“Yes, I've seen the movie too,” Nie Huaisang yawned, taking another sip of his bubble tea.

Jin Guangyao went red and purple, while Wei Wuxian tried to hide a snicker. If there was one sure way to piss of Jin Guangyao, it was by mentioning that recent movie that had come out, very loosely inspired by a series of blog articles he'd written years ago when he was still a student. The inspiration was loose enough that he hadn't been involved in the process at all, because the scenarist had pretended they just happened to have come to the same conclusion.

It wasn't a bad movie, Wei Wuxian thought. It wasn't a goodone either, but he quite liked the actor who played Lan Wangji in it (Wei Wuxian himself wasn't part of the plot, sadly, on account of being officially dead by then), and the fight scenes were pretty fun. Besides, he felt like Jin Guangyao should have liked it even better than he did.

The actor playing him was the tallest member of the cast after all.

“I hope you choke on your tea,” Jin Guangyao muttered, to which Nie Huaisang answered with a bright grin.

It was about to devolve into a fight (an animated academic discussion, Jin Guangyao would have called it) when Lan Xichen entered the boba place, radiant as always. She ordered her own tea (plain black tea but with extra sugar and the sweetest fillings available, as usual) and sat with them, apparently oblivious to the adoration with which Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang gazed upon her.

Wei Wuxian had a bet going on with Jiang Cheng about which man would ask her out first in this life. He also had a bet going on with Jin Ling regarding whether anyone would dare ask her out at all. Wei Wuxian would have tried to help the matter, but Lan Wangji wouldn't allow it, worried for his sibling. A needless worry, Wei Wuxian thought. Lan Xichen was doing well for herself in this life, and so were the other two. Going into academia had been a great way for them to channel their lingering resentment. Their fight had almost never gotten physical in this life.

“I'm sorry for being late, jiejie wanted me to help her order something from overseas,” Lan Xichen apologised, smiling warmly. “I hope I didn't interrupt anything important? You seemed to be chatting, no?”

“We were talking about Guangyao's movie,” Nie Huaisang cheerfully answered.

Jin Guangyao looked about ready to murder him, but Lan Xichen just laughed in that sweet, careless way of hers and in a second both men had forgotten their previous argument.

“Oh, that reminds me, I brought something that might make you laugh,” she said, digging into her handbag. “It's in your field of study... in a manner of speaking.”

She put a book on the table. On the cover were two handsome young men, one dressed in black and carrying a flute, the other in white holding a bright sword. Above them, bold characters professed that this book was called “The Founder of Demonic Cultivation”.

Wei Wuxian's drink went the wrong way, and he nearly died coughing on a tapioca pearl. When everyone was sure that he wouldn't choke so stupidly, they all turned their attention back to the book.

“What's that?” Jin Guangyao asked.

“It's a danmei novel,” Lan Xichen explained, a spot of red on her cheeks. “Jiejie lent it to me the other day, and as soon as I started reading I realised the subject was... familiar. It's about Wei Wuxian. The real one I mean,” she added with a smile to Wei Wuxian who pretended to be fascinated by his bubble tea. “It's, ah... very creative. It takes liberties with some of the events, but, ah, it's very well written.”

“Wonderful, more fiction,” Jin Guangyao muttered.

Meanwhile, Nie Huaisang eagerly grabbed the book and started browsing it with hungry eyes. He had theories about that, too. Mostly, about the exact nature of Wei Wuxian's relationship with Jiang Cheng, which he had once explained to Wei Wuxian with far more details than the immortal would ever have cared to hear... and he hoped Jiang Cheng himself would never hear about it.

In fairness to Nie Huaisang though, his arguments had been very convincing, and Wei Wuxian would have had doubts, if he hadn't been married to Lan Wangji for over a thousand years.

“Oh, Lan Wangji,” Nie Huaisang grumbled, closing the book and sliding it back toward Lan Xichen. “I suppose I see the appeal, but there's really no evidence whatsoever in their case, you know?”

“We know,” Lan Xichen said with an indulgent smile.

“Now, Jiang Wanyin and him, on the other hand...”

“You people are obsessed with romance!” Jin Guangyao complained. “His relationship to Jiang Wanyin was platonic!”

Wei Wuxian distractedly nodded. That was indeed true.

“And so was his relationship to Lan Wangji,” Jin Guangyao added with a disgusted glare at the book.

Wei Wuxian grimaced. That was very much not true.

“From the letters I've read, I think in today's world, the Yiling Patriarch would probably be asexual,” Jin Guangyao argued. “Not that I particularly approve of using modern terminology to describe the sexuality of long dead people, but if you consider everything we know about him, then... are you ok?”

“Peachy,” Wei Wuxian coughed, trying not to burst out laughing. Jin Guangyao's pride was still a delicate thing in this life. “Hey, Xichen-jie, mind if I borrow that book until we meet again? I think Lan Zhan would love it.”

“Sure, I don't see why not.”

Wei Wuxian grinned, and pocketed the book.

Lan Wangji and him were going to have a good laugh that night, as they always did whenever someone wrote a new story about them.

[stiltonbasket]

for qin su!wwx, how about some more reluctant, maybe i DO care for you shut up siblings wwx and jzx? i just like them so much

In his previous life, Jin Zixuan never got along with either of his brothers-in-law.

There was no doubt that Jiang-zongzhu used to dislike him, because he was often rude to poor A-Li when they were children. On the other hand, Wei Wuxian outright detested him, because no one who denied respect to his shijie needed to live, in his opinion; and by the time of his death, Jin Zixuan actually hoped that he might redeem himself in Wei Wuxian’s eyes by demonstrating his love for his wife and son at A-Ling’s full-month celebration.

He never had any such problems with Jiang-zongzhu, since they were always courteous to one other due to their status in the gentry: but even so, Jin Zixuan was thoroughly unsurprised when he found himself twitching at the end of Zidian after Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian rescued A-Ling from the Hall of Sabers.

After all, their meeting at Dafan Mountan was a very unpleasant one, and only Lan Wangji’s timely appearance allowed Jin Zixuan to leave the scene mostly intact.

“I keep telling you, I’m not Wei Wuxian,” he yells, when Jiang-zongzhu drags him up into his inn room. “Let me go!”

“You think I’m a fool, do you?” Jiang Wanyin snarls, slinging him into the opposite wall. “The moment you came back, you summoned that dog of yours, and you dared to say--to Jin Ling--”

Did you have no mother to teach you manners, Jin-gongzi?

“It’s your fault he doesn’t have a mother!” Jiang-zongzhu bellows. “Or did you forget that the moment your precious Hanguang-jun arrived? And still, you have the face to deny who you are, to me!”

Your fault--

Tell A-Li I’m going out! Zixun has gone to Qiongqi Dao to fight with Wei Wuxian!

But how can he be an orphan? A-Li recovered from A-Ling’s birth, she was perfectly well by the full moon celebration--

There was a battle at Bu Ye Tian the week after you died, Young Master Jin. Your wife ran into the fray to protect Wei Ying, and took a sword that was meant for him.

Don’t you blame me, Wei Wuxian? I’m the reason you and A-Li died!

Jiang-zongzhu is still shouting at the top of his lungs, shaking Jin Zixuan by the arm as he slumps against a chest of drawers with tears pouring from his eyes--but then Jiang Wanyin goes silent, right before Jin Zixuan feels a warm, wet tongue lapping at his cheek.

Oh, he realizes, glancing down to read the two characters painted onto the animal’s collar alongside the Jin sect’s peony motif. It’s A-Ling’s spiritual dog.

“What?” he hears Jiang Wanyin whisper. “You--what?”

His brother-in-law is staring at him, aghast, and Jin Zixuan finally finds the strength to stand on his injured leg.

“Are you finished?” he says coldly. “I thought it was made plain at Dafan Mountain that I was to be placed in Lan-er-gongzi’s custody. By what right does Jiang-zongzhu seek to remove me from it?”

Jiang Wanyin makes no move to stop him as he leaves, and when he turns back at the threshold, the man is gazing into the corner where Jin Zixuan was sitting with Fairy as if the little section of floor had horribly betrayed him somehow.

__

“Wo de tian,” Wei Wuxian gasps, catching Jin Zixuan by the wrist as he stumbles around the corner. “What happened to you, Peacock? You were fine when we split up!”

“We didn’t split up,” Jin Zixuan moans. “You heard A-Ling’s dog barking and left me behind!”

“Oh, and you couldn’t follow me? Who’s the maiden between us, eh?”

Jin Zixuan glares at him. “Shut up. Do you remember where Hanguang-jun said he would meet us?”

“How can I tell you if you want me to shut up?”

“Wei Wuxian!”

“Hush! Not so loud,” his brother-in-law hisses. “Do you want to bring Jiang Cheng back here? Stay quiet and walk so we can find Lan Zhan.”

But the he muscles in his left leg are still twitching from Zidian, and Jin Zixuan plunges straight down to the ground before Wei Wuxian manages to lead him down the next alley.

“I can’t walk,” he grinds out, through clenched teeth. “Just leave and come back for me later.”

“Aiyah, I can’t do that,” mutters Wei Wuxian, crouching down in front of him. “Climb on.”

“Climb on where?”

“Onto my back! Hurry, or someone’s going to hear.”

“I can’t have a woman carry me on her back,” he gasps. “You’re not strong enough! And it’s undignified, besides!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake--stay still, or I’ll drop you!”

“Your leg’s hurt, too!” Jin Zixuan howls, gulping as he catches a glimpse of the black flesh snaking its way up Wei Wuxian’s ankle. “You took that curse mark off A-Ling, remember?! Put me down!”

Wei Wuxian is still stronger than he is, though, so Jin Zixuan ends up being carried all the way to the bridge where Lan Wangji said he would wait for them. He leaps across the water and separates them before even greeting Jin Zixuan, barely casting him a sideways glance as he sweeps Wei Wuxian up into his arms.

“I left you both for an hour,” Lan Wangji says tightly. “Wei Ying!”

“This really isn’t my fault,” Wei Wuxian complains. “And you should be carrying the peacock, Lan Zhan! Jiang Cheng hit him with Zidian!”

“Wei Ying is hurt worse.”

Jin Zixuan sneaks behind Hanguang-jun’s back and pulls down his eyelid. “Suffer,” he mouths, provoking a gasp of outrage from Wei Wuxian. See how you like that, you showboating menace!

Two seconds later, Jin Zixuan trips on an uneven cobblestone and falls into the canal.

(Wei Wuxian laughs so hard that he cries, and then teases him about it for the next two days.)

[xu-ren]

A Kinder End

Genre: Fluff and angst

Pairings: Diarmuid (Fate/Zero) x reader

Wordcount: 2000+

My requests and askbox are open, so pretty please don't be shy.

Masterpost

*~*~*

“Lancer, prepare yourself! I can’t hold this spell for long.” Lancer readied himself at [Name]’s words. “God of the North wind, Boreas, God of the East wind, Eurus, God of the South wind, Notus, God of the East wind, Zephyus, Your faithful servant besieged you to lend get your strength so that she may vanquish her mighty foe!”

The wind tore her hair away from her usual bun, letting it whip freely around her. Had it been any other time, Lancer would have appreciated the sight of her unbound black tress. As it was, the wind she summoned started to clear a path to Caster. Lancer tensed up as her wind went closer and closer to Caster. ‘Come on…Just a bit more…’ Just as Lancer caught a glimpse of Caster, her spell failed and she collapsed.

“My lady…!” Luckily, he managed to catch her just before she hit the ground and lowered her down gently. Saber and Rider, who had stopped their assault on Caster when [Name] started her spell, prepared to resume their assault on Caster. Rider offered to buy them time to think of another plan to defeat Caster as [Name]’s plan had failed. Lancer didn’t hesitate to break Gáe Buidhe so that Saber could defeat Caster. His number one priority was to get [Name] to safety now that she was unconscious and vulnerable. However, he had to ensure that Caster was defeated first so he stood at the water’s edge cradling [Name] carefully as he watched Saber defeat Caster.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lancer laid [Name] down as gently as possible at an abandoned building. It was unfortunately the best place that he could find for now.

“Lan…cer?”

“My lady!” *Her eyes narrowed for a brief moment before they relaxed again. It was a testament to her weariness that she didn’t even bother to correct him.

“Where are we?” “An abandoned building, my lady. I apologise, it was the best…” Lancer trailed off as [Name] raised a hand to silence him. They both kept silent as [Name]’s eyes darted around, absorbing every minute detail of their surroundings.

“Diarmuid, where’s Gáe Buidhe?”

“I…broke it so that Saber could defeat Caster. I apolo…” This time, [Name] pushed herself up and placed a finger upon Lender’s lips to silence him. They stayed as they were for what seemed to be an eternity until [Name] collapsed upon Lancer’s chest. What meagre strength she had accumulated from her brief rest had been spent.

“You are apologising a lot today, aren’t you, Diarmuid?” asked [Name], her tone mildly scolding.

“I apolo-“

“You are doing it again, Diarmuid. You have no reason to apologise to me, after all, you merely did what you thought was best at that moment. Besides, we are a team, not master and servant.”

By the end of her short speech, her voice was scarcely a whisper. If not for their proximity, he would have never heard it.

“My lady…”

Suddenly, Lancer tensed up and he tightened his hold on [Name].

“Diarmuid?”

“Someone’s here.”

“Go, Diarmuid.”

“My lady…”

“Go on, I await your return.”

“Yes, my lady.”

He hated to leave [Name] alone, especially when she was so vulnerable but he couldn’t disobey her either.He wasn’t very surprised when it was Saber who met him in the courtyard of the abandoned building. At the very least, they would finally be able to finish their battle.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

She watched from her spot as the two servants fought it out. Such honourable warriors, there were no one more deserving of the title ‘Heroic Spirits. She was glad to have met them despite her reluctance to enter this war in the first place.

Suddenly, a shadow was casted upon her and she looked up to see Kiritsugu pointing a gun at her. 

“Mr. Kiritsugu, how…expected,” she whispered quietly as her lips formed a small, wry smile. 

He put his finger to his lips in the universal gesture of silence. She cocked her head to the side. In response, Kiritsugu hands her a scroll.

‘A Self-Geas Scroll. A magical item used by Magi to form an unbreakable contract. Binding spell… Affected Party: Emiya Kiritsugu. The Emiya family crest orders the following. The pledge is to be observed by the affected party upon fulfilment of the conditions described herein. Pledge: Kiritsugu, son of Norikata and the fifth descendant of the House of Emiya, will be forever forbidden from harming or intending to harm, [Name] [Middle Name] [Last Name]. Condition…’

 After reading the scroll, she looked at Kiritsugu searchingly. She gathered the magick stored at the amulet around her neck before speaking into his mind. To his credit, he didn’t even flinch. In fact, the only outwardly respond he showed was the slight widening of his eyes.

‘I won’t do it.’

Kiritsugu responded by pulling the safety of his gun.

‘After all, it doesn’t matter, does it? You are going to kill me either way. A master without a servant can form a pact with another servant and you can ill afford that.’

For a moment, she thought that she saw a shadow of surprise pass through Kiritsugu’s face.

‘Kill me, Emiya Kiritsugu. Let me be but another life you sacrificed in your quest to save the world. However, will you listen to this girl’s final wish?’

He lowered his gun slightly and she took it as her cue to continue.

‘Ensure that my death isn’t instant.’

This time, she definitely saw the surprise on his face. She smirked. It was a highly unusual wish as most people hoped for the opposite.

‘I wish to say farewell to Lancer.’

He nodded and shot her in the aorta, ensuring that it gazed the aorta so that she would bleed out in 5 minutes.

‘Thank you.’

The gunshot rang across the abandoned building.

Lancer’s head whipped towards the direction where the gunshot came from so fast that he gave himself whip splash. He immediately abandoned his stalemate with Saber when he saw that the gunshot came from where he had left [Name].

“My lady!” 

He raced towards her, hoping against hope that she wasn’t shot. His heart had never been filled with such rage as when he saw her bleeding from where he left her with Emiya Kiritsugu standing over her holding a gun. He readied his lance to slay the miscreant who dared to harm his lady.

“Diarmuid!”

Her voice was authoritative and they had been together long enough to know that she wanted him to stand down. He tore his gaze from where he was glaring at Kiritsugu to look at her. He barely registered the shocked gasps of Saber behind him.

Her right hand on her chest was stained with blood while she used her left hand to gesture for him to come to her side. He approached her while keeping Kiritsugu in his line of sight. As he got closer, Kiritsugu backed away to give them some privacy.

He dropped down on his knees next to her as she smiled at him. Her face was paler than he had ever seen and that only makes the blood on her lips stand out even more starkly. He held her gently and lowered her carefully to not aggravate her wound so that her head rested on his knees in hopes of making her more comfortable.

***His clothes changed to the daily wear that [Name] had bought for him and he made to tear it apart to make some makeshift bandages.

“Lea…ve it.”

“My lady…”

“Leave. It.” 

“My lady, I can see the blood on your clothes.”

She opened her mouth to answer him but more blood merely dribbled out of the corner of her mouth. Instead, she spoke into his mind.

*‘Is that so? I will find even darker clothes next time then.’

She tilted her head to the scroll resting innocently at her side so he picked it up and read it. His eyes widened with understanding as he read it.

“My lady! You should have let me die.”

 ‘Do I seem like such a heartless person to you, Diarmuid? I would never even think of sacrificing another’s life for mine.’

“I don’t mean to insult you, my lady, but I have already died once.”

‘It doesn’t matter. Kiritsugu had no intentions of allowing me to live either way.’

“But…”

“My servant. By her Command Seal, [Name] [Middle Name] [Last Name] orders you, Lancer, to not take revenge upon…” she coughed, causing blood to bubble out of her mouth. “Emiya Kiritsugu or anyone else that you hold responsible for her death.”

“My lady!”

“By my Command Seal, I order you to return to the spirit world upon my death. And by my Command Seal, I order you to not form a pact with another master for the duration of the 4th Holy Grail War.”

More blood spilt from mouth and her face was bone white.

“My lady! How can you possibly expect me to do such things?”

‘You will do it, either because I commanded you or as a deathbed promise to me. And no more of that my lady nonsense, I have used up all three Command Seals and therefore am no longer your master. Call me [Name] at least once before I go, please?’

“My…[Name].”

A wide, genuine smile spread across her face and suddenly, she looked as if she was full of life despite the blood seeping out of her. Using the last of her strength, she spoke into the minds of Diarmuid and Kiritsugu respectively.

‘Don’t despair. Let’s meet again in another life, Diarmuid.’

‘The ends don’t justify the means, Emiya Kiritsugu.’

Lancer’s heart clenched as she raised her right hand to stroke his face, her eyes memorizing every feature of his face hungrily before her hand fell and her eyes closed for all eternity.

“[Name]…! [Name]…! Please…come back…!”

He rocked back and forth while holding her tightly to him, his lithe body wracked with sobs. He brushed her hair from her face and the memory of brilliant smile she had gifted him with when he called her by name only made him sob harder. If he knew how happy it would have made her, he would have called her by name more often, propriety be damned. If only he had disobeyed her and stayed with her, she would still be alive.

How could life be this cruel? She was a powerful magus with a bright future ahead of her and suddenly, it was gone. She was no more than another life lost during the Holy Grail War. 

How desperately he wanted to take revenge for her death and yet her words bound her. He couldn’t bear to disappoint her, even in death.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

*

“My lady, why are all your clothes black?” Diarmuid was curious, never had he seen a woman who wore nothing but black.

“Black is my favourite colour. Besides, doesn’t it look good on me?” she asked as she gave a little twirl.

Black did look good on her. It emphasised the paleness of her skin and made her eyes look bigger. Her lips, painted black as well stood out starkly against her pale skin. It also made her look slender and intimidating despite her diminutive height.

“Finally, you can’t really see blood on me if I’m wearing black, right?”

“My lady!”

“Kidding… Don’t be so uptight, Diarmuid,” said [Name] while giggling.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

**

“Diarmuid.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Stop calling me ‘my lady’. I have already said it many times but we are a team and therefore equals. Call me [Name].”

“I’m afraid that I can’t do so, my lady. It would be highly improper to call you by your name.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*

***

“Diarmuid, do you have nothing else to wear?”

“I’m afraid that this is my only outfit, my lady.”

“Well, you certainly can’t go out like that. Let’s go shopping.”

“My lady, there’s …there’s no need to trouble yourself!”

“It’s no trouble at all. Besides, I have been wanting to explore the shops here anyways. How about this? You be my bag carrier for the day and I buy you an outfit as a thank you present?”

“Al…Alright, my lady.”

(Time skip)

“So, so? What do you think?”

“You have good taste, my lady.”

“Of course.”

Lancer couldn’t help but admire his outfit that consist of a dark green shirt, black pants and black shoes paired with a black vest in the mirror. 

“As a bonus, we match too,” said [Name] as she gave a twirl in her black dress with dark green embellishments.

[nancywheelxr]

you said yanli x wen qing, so maybe something during their school days?? When WQ treated JYL for her headache/fatigue and JYL realizes that maybe the Wens arent so bad and also that she could be with someone who is actually nice to her?????????

okay okay, i love them so much, thank you for sending this!!! i’m sorry this took so long, I just had to get the vibes right.

Just to preface this: i’m absolutely ignoring yin iron, the war, etc, this is a happiness ONLY world because they deserve it 🥺🥺

* “How’s your headache?”

Wen Qing asks with little preamble– the minute Yanli sits down, she has a cup pressed gently into her hands, warmth seeping through porcelain to chase away the autumn from her fingers. “Gone,” she says, taking a sip and bracing herself to the inevitably bitter tea. Medicine has never settled quite right on her tongue, always too sour, too biting.

This time, though, the sting never comes. Instead, it tastes sweet, it tastes like early spring, and the surprise comes so swift, she can’t quite stop herself from looking up abruptly. Tidying up her desk, Wen Qing falters, bowl slipping from her fingers, and she clears her throat, looking away. “Wei Wuxian told me you found it bitter last time,” she explains, turning her back to Yanli, but her voice carries her familiar unimpressed tone, “so I added honey.”

Of course. “Thank you,” Yanli hides her smile. How very honorable of Wen Qing to go to such lengths to uphold a presumed debt towards her brother: most people would not think of small acts of kindness nor find them important, even if for Yanli, they’re the ones that most matter. “But I hope you know you owe us nothing.”

Wen Qing turns sharply. In the half-shadow from the curtains, her face is unreadable, but something flickers in her eyes, no answer forthcoming. Instead, she continues adding herbs now to her bowl, a green, fresh smell wafting up from her work, “what of your energy? Have you been feeling any tiredness?”

One could almost mistake her directness for rudeness, or even carelessness, but Yanli, who has known Jiang Cheng from birth and her mother around her father, knows better. When she takes the cup, their fingers brush, gentle as falling snow. When she examines her pulse, Wen Qing is careful not to startle her. When she tells her to rest, Wen Qing offers her lavender.

When she makes tea, Wen Qing adds honey.

No matter how suspicious the rest of the disciples regard the Wens, Yanli has seen Wen Qing kneel by her brother’s bedside, has seen her cry in worry, and has seen her threaten Wei Wuxian with her needles, hiding a smile in her sleeves when everyone’s backs are turned.

Wen Qing walks her back to her room, steps light as lotus petals, voice flowing quiet as a river’s murmur, and all the while, somewhere near her heart, something warm and radiant takes root.

*

“I thought,” a voice pierces the stillness, startling Yanli into nearly dropping her basket, “I told you to rest.”

The trees shade them from the mellow sun and paint Wen Qing in deeper burgundies among the greenery. Yanli smiles. “Apologies, Wen-guniang,” she takes in her stern expression, the little pinch between her eyebrows, and wonders if it would cause offense to reach up and smooth it out. “We didn’t have lectures and the day was so beautiful…”

“So you decided to ignore a doctor’s advice,” Wen Qing narrows her eyes just slightly, glaring at the basket as if deeply offended by it. Inside it, the lychees and apples sit idly, shiny and colorful, “and carrying weight too, I see.”

Yanli tries to hide her laugh into her sleeve, hitches the basket up, too warm, too content, to feel properly guilty. “You could always join me– wouldn’t it be better, then, if I wasn’t wandering off alone?”

Hesitancy crosses her face in an uncharacteristic feat. Wen Qing seems to be debating with herself whether to storm off or not, a thundercloud in the clear weather that is swept away with the wind as quick as summer rain. Her expression settles. She storms forward instead, taking the basket with a gentleness that belied her previous warpath. “You shouldn’t be straining yourself.”

A lychee rolls off to the floor, flattens a path in the grass. Yanli picks it up, says, “I’m not so fragile.”

Wen Qing’s gaze is scorching the side of her face, steady and sunkissing-intense, but Yanli looks resolutely forward, even as they start walking again, even as Wen Qing speaks up, quiet and certain, “no, you’re not,” she walks at her side, sleeves brushing with every breath, “but I’m your doctor. Can you blame me for worrying?”

“Are you?” What? Worried? Her doctor? Yanli ducks away, hoping to hide the heat she feels spreading across her cheeks, and privately startles at her own lack of answers.

Thankfully, Wen Qing doesn’t ask her to elaborate, merely scoffs. “Of course I am your doctor. How many times have you consulted with me?”

Yanli laughs again, picking a lychee off the basket. Vaguely, she wonders if she’s reading this wrong, if they are not friends after all, but Wen Qing has yet to move away, to further the inches between them so their hands wouldn’t brush, so their steps wouldn’t tangle in the grass.

“Maybe we should stop for a moment,” Wen Qing places a hand in her arm, soft and steady, but does not look directly at her. Instead, her eyes slant to a tall cherry tree a few paces off the path, its overreaching branches casting a long shade in the earth.

If she’s being honest, Yanli is beginning to tire. Cloud Recesses is colder than Lotus Pier and the chilled air pierces her chest like pinprick needles. It’s distracting. It melts like snow in the sun when Wen Qing’s hand lowers to cup her elbow, guide her to the shadowy corner. 

They sit, the basket between them, and Yanli takes care not to stare at her for too long– the late afternoon sun illuminates her profile too well, Wen Qing looks too lovely, it pulls at Yanli as if tied together by a string, tight and unrelenting. “Here,” she says, offering the lychee she’s just peeled. Her fingers are sticky with juice, but Wen Qing looks at the fruit, at Yanli, and her heart catches on fire. 

She takes it as if it’s something precious. “Thank you,” comes the response, prim and proper, and just thorny enough to very nearly send Yanli into giggles. Still, their hands brush. Still, her skin burns. 

Still, Yanli picks another lychee.

It’s not yet blooming season for the cherry tree and the leaves cling thoughtfully in their branches, and they sit in the shade, sharing lychees and apples and peaches, time dripping away sugary sweet. 

*

Later, when Wei Wuxian asks her, wide-eyed and sweetly unaware, why like someone at all, Yanli takes pity on him and doesn’t question his motives any further, answers him in the only way she thinks it won’t scare him off from Lan Wangji’s lingering eyes.

For once in his life, he leaves it well enough alone and– she’s glad. How do you explain loving someone so much you overflow with it? How to tell him it grows like ivy over your heart, a blooming thing golden and light, hiding behind your core? A yearning happiness so encompassing you ache with it. It’s wonderful. It’s terrifying.

And all the while, Yanli thinks of fingers sticky with lychee juice, the grass brushing her ankles, honey on tea.

*

The commotion with Jin Zixuan stays with her long after the dust has settled.

Guilt swells in her chest– should she argue further for her engagement? Should she not care more about the abrupt breaking? Jiang Cheng thinks so. He’s still fuming over it, long after even Wei Wuxian has cooled off, long after their father has returned to Yunmeng.

Privately, Yanli thinks the anger is just a smokescreen, that maybe breaking off this engagement is a blessing not just for her, but she will not push, not right now. Knowing her brother, it would do no one any good. Instead, she listens to his angry grumbling and pretends not to notice his looking. Jiang Cheng seems to be always looking, these days, eyes following Jin Zixuan as if a moth to a flame. 

He calls it glaring, of course.

This helps, a little, with the guilt and the embarrassment– her mother will not be happy about any of this, not at all, and gossip will run amok between sects, yes, but if it saves her brother the misery, then how can she regret it?

“Jiang-guniang,” Wen Qing’s voice reaches her before she comes into view, leaning against the railing beside her. She doesn’t dare turn to face her, but she feels the warmth of her hand so close to hers.

“Please,” Yanli says in a moment of boldness, words spilling without her permission and falling down to the garden below them, “are we not past these formalities? Call me Yanli.”

It seems to take Wen Qing aback, forcing her to pause, and Yanli watches her blink, a pink glow to her cheeks. “Well, only if you do the same,” she clears her throat, “Yanli, how have you been?”

Yanli shivers. The sound of her name in Wen Qing’s voice– how can it be so different? The way her lips curve around the vowels– she wants it to live there, safely in her mouth, always. Say it again, she almost asks, never stop, never tell me anything else. Instead, “I’ve been well, no headaches, no more tired than one would expect.”

“I meant,” Wen Qing shifts, their fingers brush in the wooden railing. She shivers again. “About your engagement.”

Oh. Finally, Yanli turns, glancing away to the greenery growing over the rocks to catch the tail-end of what must have been a concerned expression. As with looking directly at the midday sun, Yanli burns. “Then I thank you for your concern,” she nods politely, more muscle memory than any real presence of mind, “but there is no need for it. I’m fine, truly.”

Wen Qing hesitates, brow crinkling, leans forward just slightly, as if not even realizing, “forgive me if I overstep, but you seemed upset, earlier.”

“You could never,” she shakes her head, a small smile blooming unbidden, “I was upset to have caused such a disturbance and I admit, his words stung at the time, but– I think, it might have been for the best.”

Something flickers in Wen Qing’s eyes and Yanli wonders how she could have mistaken her as the sun before: it’s as if clouds have parted and the sky has cleared, and Wen Qing is brighter than ever. A constellation made flesh, light given a soul. 

Yanli wonders–

“In that case,” Wen Qing smiles, and it’s the loveliest thing Yanli’s seen in this life, the kind people would go to war for. She would do anything to see it every day until the end of the world. “Perhaps I asked the wrong person. Surely, Jin-gongzi must be distraught– otherwise, if he’s not, then he must be stupider than I thought.”

This startles a laugh out of her, too used to Wei Wuxian to be properly scandalized with the lack of decorum and delighted with the abrupt rudeness. She should not be so amused, she thinks, or so endeared by it, but as with all things concerning Wen Qing, Yanli is helplessly charmed. “Wen Qing,” she chides for the sake of it, just to say it aloud, savoring the name in her tongue, feeling it echo from her heart.

“It is forbidden to lie in Cloud Recesses, after all,” Wen Qing recites, wry and pleased, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight with mischief. It’s one of those things that she seems to keep very close to her chest, and Yanli swells with happiness at being allowed to witness it so freely. 

You could never overstep, she had meant earlier, anywhere you want, I’ll let the light in for you. Maybe this could go both ways. Hopefully. 

“Are you really not heartbroken?” She asks, growing serious once again, seeming to give her one last chance to request a shoulder to cry on. 

“Yes,” Yanli tries to speak with as much confidence as she can, suddenly desperate for Wen Qing to believe her, “we have been betrothed since we were children but it has never been any more than that.”

A nod. “You do not feel sad,” she catches her eye, solemn and infinitely patient. Kind. Gentleness hiding in plain sight if only one cares to look. “Then how do you feel?”

Has anyone asked Yanli this and meant it in such a way? She doesn’t know. Her heart trashes, swallowed by a riptide. “Free,” she smiles, “awake.”

Wen Qing seems to soften in the light. How is it possible they know each other for less than a year? It feels longer. It feels like she’s known Wen Qing her whole life, has been waiting for her. Whatever lies after death, she’ll know her there too. “I’m glad,” Wen Qing says, reaching to cover Yanli’s hand with hers, thumb brushing circles in a soothing heart-stopping rhythm, “you deserve more than that.”

Maybe it’s selfish of her, maybe she is the one overstepping, maybe she is reading this all wrong. Maybe Wen Qing doesn’t mean herself. But– so far, Yanli has hardly dared to want anything for herself. Can’t she have this? If nothing else, this. Her. 

“A-Qing,” she dares, voice quiet with all the other words she wants to say, and reaches for her, feels the silent tremor that travels underneath her palm. Hope. “A-Qing,” she repeats, and Wen Qing is so beautiful, eyes dark and wide, and Yanli never wants her to look away, never wants to say anything else other than her name. Forever, just them. Just their names in each other’s mouths. “What if I wish for more than I deserve?”

Wen Qing breathes, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Impossible. You deserve more than this world could hope to offer,” she glances at the moon high above their heads, then back down at Yanli with fierce certainty, “tell me: whatever it is, it’s yours.”

Please, she begs, her. “What if all I wish for is you?”

The words taste like honey in her tongue, and they slip syrupy sweet from her lips, conquering this secluded garden in the Cloud Recesses for themselves and taking residence between the green. Yanli wants to cry, wants to dive in the lakes of Lotus Pier and stay underwater until no one remembers her existence, wants to–

Wen Qing makes a small, wounded sound, and lurches forward, hands shaking like they never do, and she smells like the herbs she crushes to make into medicine, like lavender, and Yanli loves her. “Then you must surely know,” she tells her, voice like a leaf in the wind, “that it’s always been yours.”

A happiness so encompassing, it aches. Yanli is so in love, it spills into the world like rain. “A-Qing,” she says into her lips, and then Wen Qing answers, a whispered A-Li tucked in between a kiss.

[shypotato-translations]

QTVW Chapter 20

Showbiz* Sexy Queen (VII)

----

Mei Mu Lan frowned after hearing the system beep, it seemed that she now had another hidden task to solve the travelers in addition to the main task of raiding the villain.

It's not clear exactly what the definition of 'resolution' is, but according to the novel's plot, everything should change soon after.

Because the beginning part of the novel was caused by the death of the original owner Mei Mu Lan in a car accident, the description of the female lead Bai Jieying at that time was still just an innocent-looking girl with an upright personality, and her clean temperament attracted the attention of the male lead Ling Tianye.

And the next step was to come and audition for the supporting female role in the cast of 《The Burial Man》, only to be eliminated by the director and others.

Three days later, when she agreed to become the male lead's mistress, she returned to the production with the help of the male lead, and her acting skills were suddenly recognized by everyone, and she played the role of the enchanting undercover female agent in 《The Burial Man》, thus starting her acting career as the "Queen of Variety".

So it seems that if this travelers really entered the novel, then the time she crossed over was within these two days.

Mei Mu Lan rubbed her brow, feeling troubled, if her task was to face a simple and proud Bai Jieying, it would not be difficult to deal with her.

But now it was obvious that she was about to face a traveler who had also entered the virtual world from the real world, and there was no way for Mei Mu Lan to treat such a woman as an NPC in the virtual world, and……

Even for travelers, there are different types, and she knew absolutely nothing about this travelers' situation. And this traveler, upon entering this world, immediately grasps the key character, Ling Tianye, and she picks a script and a cast of characters that are complex and widely loved.

It is clear from here that she is a book-traveler who also knows what is about to happen in this world.

Mei Mu Lan groaned and grumbled in anguish as she thought of this, the traveler she needed to solve for this hidden mission was someone who was an even match for her, and according to the system ranking, such a traveler at present was actually only her beginner mission target, so she dared not imagine what kind of difficult characters she would encounter in her next crossover missions.

She let out a long sigh and thought, "No matter what, she has to find a way to monitor Bai Jieying's every move, be the first to get a head start, wait for an opportunity, and then take her out.

After Mei Mu Lan made her plans, she hired a high priced private detective to investigate and film Bai Jieying's actions and compile them into a case to her newly built email address while she was 'obsessively showing love' to Ling Yi Yao.

Every day after she came home from studying on set, she would open her emails and browse through Bai Jieying's investigation routine.

On the first day, an email came in showing that Bai Jieying and a major shareholder of a giant entertainment company went to a hotel room together, entering at 10pm that night and leaving intimately at 6am the next morning, holding hands.

The next day's email showed that Bai Jieying and the major shareholder had gone to a lounge that only senior members of society could enter, and that in the evening Bai Jieying had left hand in hand with the director of another major film being shot.

On the third day, an email came in showing that Bai Jieying, drenched in rain, had bumped into Ling Tianye with a messy face and the two of them had gotten into Ling Tianye's car hand in hand.

When Mei Mu Lan saw this message, her heart thumped.

She moved her mouse and dragged the email down to see the photo of Bai Jieying, who, although wet from the rain, didn't look at all disheveled, but rather because her clothes were wet against her body, exposing her youthful yet mature figure, and her expression was so charming that one wanted to hold her in one's heart and love her as soon as one saw her.

But she looked at Ling Tianye with pride and stubbornness in her eyes, like a cheetah that is always full of life and vitality, making people want to trample on her stubbornness and squeeze her in their hands.

Mei Mu Lan drew a cold breath, from this photo alone, one could feel that this woman was not simple, she was too high up the ladder.

Mei Mu Lan frowned and muttered,

“Here we go, here we go, the travelers are coming.”

She clicked on the photo with her mouse and displayed it in full screen, then stared at the woman and after some careful analysis, she found that she could not see, at all, the true feelings of this woman, and if she had not been wary of this traveler, then she would probably have been upset at the moment she saw the photo.

And with the way things are going today, she's going to meet this traveler tomorrow on the set of the film.

That makes exactly three days.

So now, now that the target traveler has appeared, the next thing she has to do is to find this woman's weakness and finish her off.

As she expected, Ling Tianye once again appeared on the set with this woman, and just last night, the innocent girl who was originally playing another tomb raider family had a very serious car accident on her way home, her whole face was ruined, and she is now completely unable to play this role.

And Ling Tianye, now bringing Bai Jieying to the set, is to send this woman into this production in the name of the investor.

Director Wang Ye is in an unhappy mood, he can see from the events of the previous days that this woman, is definitely not as innocent as she appears, but his best friend Ling Tianye is totally the man who listens to the brain from the lower part of his waist.

This time Ling Tianye's expression was serious, and it was clear that unlike the playfulness of the previous days, he was serious.

Just when Wang Ye was in a depressed mood and about to go berserk, Bai Jieying spoke up, her voice cool and gentle, flowing like a spring breeze in the hearts of the crowd.

She said apologetically,

“I know I didn't perform well last time and made everyone very unhappy, and this time I've asked Chairman Ling to intercede for me, but……”

She bit her lip and smiled softly, looking pale and endearing as she said,

“I just really like the novel and the other day when I found out I had a chance to be in it, I was so excited I banged on the door and made my family laugh. I really want to achieve my ambition, so please give me another chance, just let me play one more part, I won't let you down.”

Her gaze is determined and she glows with confidence.

Mei Mu Lan pursed her lips and smiled lightly, thinking: This woman's acting skills are really good, it's really hard to deal with.

Bai Jieying's heartfelt confession touched most of the people present, and when the director saw her pleading gaze and Ling Tianye's heartbroken eyes, he nodded helplessly and said,

“All right then, as you say, I'll give you one more chance to do a scene from the script.”

Bai Jieying bowed gratefully with crystal tears in her eyes.

Then Bai Jieying looked at the crowd, and at the sight of a delicate cheongsam with Republican makeup, her pupils visibly zoomed in and out, a micro-expression of surprise that Mei Mu Lan noticed.

And Bai Jieying turned to smile happily, walked towards Mei Mu Lan, took her hand and said with surprise in her voice,

“Sister, are you in this film too? Dad is old and his heart is not good. Last time you suddenly left the family dinner and made him lose face, that's why he said he wanted to break off the relationship with you, but he has regretted it now, but he just can't face it, just forgive him and go home and live together, okay?”

Although these words were spoken in the interest of Mei Mu Lan, there were traps everywhere in these words, and Bai Jieying's words were spoken in public, so what would the onlookers think?

It must be Mei Mu Lan, who is ungrateful and reckless, and who is a wilful and an abominable person.

Mei Mu Lan also took her hand with a surprised look on her face, and her sharp nails pinched hard into her hand, saying,

“Sister, I…… I was just upset with my father. You didn't know that my father was going to marry you off to a business friend who was in his fifties, and I couldn't stand it so I confronted him, didn't you always teach me from a young age that I had to be on the same page with you, but now, you keep blaming me?”

As she said this, she unconsciously showed a stubborn and aggrieved expression, which, together with her dressing style, made people feel strange, but more than that, it made people think that she was a person of true character.

Bai Jieying's back was turned to the crowd, her expression cold, her eyes like ice frozen for a thousand years as she stared at her with a creepy gaze.

Then she took Mei Mu Lan in her arms, her lips close to Mei Mu Lan's earlobe, and she said in a light tone,

“I know your secret, we are both the same, how about working together? It is better than having two sisters struggling with each other. Hmm? What do you say?”

She nibbled lightly on Mei Mu Lan's earlobe and asked.

Ling Yi Yao, who had just come out of the dressing room to change into her ancient costume, was standing not far behind these two people. After taking a look at the quiet atmosphere in the set and seeing Ling Tianye and Bai Jieying, she remembered what happened a few days ago and with a cold look on her face, she slowly walked over to Ling Tianye.

As she passed Mei Mu Lan, she walked without a glance, completely ignoring the two who were hugging each other in an intimate relationship.

But Mei Mu Lan showed a surprised expression, pushed Bai Jieying away, then picked up the camera and walked over to Ling Yi Yao, taking pictures in all directions at 365 degrees, then drooling at Ling Yi Yao, with green wolf-like eyes flashing in her eyes.

She said,

“Ahhhhhhh!!! It's this look, the never seen Ling Yi Yao look, ah, must collect it, ah ah ah ah!!! And ah, and ah, there's nothing between me and this woman, don't get me wrong ah, my heart belongs to you!”

Ling Yiyao: "......" The sense of crisis has reared its ugly head.

Director Wang Ye: "......" Mei Mu Lan is having another brain fart.

The crew in the audience: "......" Mei Mu Lan is having another brain fart.

The shy Bai Jieying on the floor: "......" Shit, this person is definitely the original!

[satonthelotuspier]

Day 7 of Xichengclipse is here, and we’re almost done!

This turned a little away form the original concept into wanting to explore how societal pressures affect JC's notion of himself. He has this role he has to play in canon, especially young jc, the sect heir, the more sensible one to WWX's shenanigans, and I wonder if he ever found that stifling. I wanted to take a look at what that might mean in a different verse. 

Lotus Lakes In Spring

Lan Xichen has suddenly started working late every night, and Jiang Cheng, insecure at the best of times, is imagining the worst. Although he had thought they had developed feelings for each other theirs was still a match of convenience, tying to powerful families together, and perhaps he's has enough of Jiang Cheng.

How far away from the truth is he? His therapist suggests there's only one way to find out - communication in relationships is key.

Featuring a JC struggling with societal expectations and his own nature, and a misunderstood LXC who's taking some matters into his own hands.

“It’s fine,” Jiang Cheng assured, except it really wasn’t. It wasn’t fine. They hadn’t spent any time together for weeks because Lan Xichen had been working constantly, and this afternoon was just another call to excuse himself from dinner, because he’d be working at the office until into the evening again.

It was a herculean effort, but he killed the needy keen in his voice; an omega begging for attention from his mate might sound cute in theory, but Jiang Cheng hated that he was so weak to the natural reaction.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow evening then, I have to be up early for a conference across town, so I need to go to bed early tonight.” He didn’t sound terribly pathetic, but it was a close thing.

“Sleep well, Wanyin, I’ll be quiet when I get in, so that I don’t wake you.”

He could feel the wetness behind his eyes, but worked hard to keep it out of his voice.

“Thank you, Xichen.”

With a few more pleasantries they ended the call, and Jiang Cheng stared at the bright-screened mobile in his hand.

Was Lan Xichen growing bored of him? Their relationship was complicated, no doubt, it wasn’t any secret that their match had been a power move, two of the biggest families in Suzhou, united in an act of politically motivated showmanship.

But Jiang Cheng had thought they had come to care for each other, despite neither having been the other’s choice. Lan Xichen was a kind and caring man, and an attentive alpha mate, and Jiang Cheng tried his best to be a good omega. Despite his quick temper, neediness, and easily embarrassed nature, he did try to be as good to his alpha as Lan Xichen was to him.

Perhaps with mixed results.

And that must be why the other was pulling away, having had enough of having to pander to him, to address the flaws in his character, and yes, in his body.

Jiang Cheng whined low in his throat, as he acknowledged the white elephant in the room. It must be, in part, because their matings hadn’t taken yet. Despite numerous heats shared together, he had yet to become pregnant. He was failing in an omega’s most basic function, and powerful dynasties, like the families they both came from, required heirs, and he wasn’t providing.

What was the point in bringing an omega into the family if he couldn’t breed?

Lan Xichen said it didn’t matter, things would happen in their own time, but that was just Lan Xichen, being nice, paying lip service. If it wasn’t an issue why was it in every gossip magazine? Every tabloid newspaper?

Taunting headlines about separate bedrooms and a lack of intimacy between the Lan heir and the Jiang heir, married for convenience, to further two powerhouses of political and economic might, but cold and distant with each other.

Until a few weeks ago they couldn’t have been further from the truth, he had fallen asleep in his husband’s arms every night, and they shared a full and mutually satisfying sex life, even outside of his heat cycles.

He was assured by the specialists he had consulted that there was no physical reason for it, that everything was in perfect working order; Lan Xichen had even supported him, attended the appointments with him, even submitted himself to a physical examination and tests to ensure there was no problems on his side either.

Jiang Cheng had been pleased to find that out that the kidnapping he had suffered as a young adult had left him with no lingering effects other than a pervasive fear of the dark.

Which meant it was him. He wasn’t broken medically, he was just broken.

Had Lan Xichen gone back to the lover he had stopped seeing in readiness for their marriage? Had he finally had enough of a mate that didn’t provide the things he should?

Who could blame him? Maybe these were the first tentative steps towards divorce?

He unlocked his phone and dialled.

“Wen Qing, can I talk to you?”

“I’m not your therapist, A-Cheng.”

“Your monthly invoice says differently. You’re damned expensive for someone who isn’t,” he snapped, and she snorted.

“I have a client in half an hour, but I’ll give you a call before I go home. It will be around five, alright?”

He agreed and they hung up.

***

He tried to process her advice that night as he lay in the bath he had taken to try and relax a little. The gist of their conversation had said he could drive himself silly with the what ifs, the suppositions, and the only way he’d get any closure on the issue was to ask Lan Xichen directly.

And that he should also talk to the other about his needs, that he missed the other and wanted attention.

Out of the two, Jiang Cheng thought the latter was the least likely to pass his lips. How pathetic would it make him seem to be begging his own husband for attention?

He was that pathetic though, he really, really wanted to.

He bathed, changed for bed, and, ensuring the small lamp near his side of the bed was on, settled down to sleep in a bed that seemed all too empty, because Lan Xichen wasn’t in it beside him.

***

It must have been the sound of the thunder that awoke him, as he shot upright in bed, and began to panic. The room was pitch dark, and he felt his chest tightening and his breathing speeding to shallow pants in immediate reaction to the darkness. He mewled; a lost child. It was oppressive, and closing in on him ever faster.

“Wanyin?” Lan Xichen’s voice sounded, clear and soothing by his ear. “Damn.” There was some scrabbling around, then a flare of light in the darkness. “Here, take this, baby.” Lan Xichen’s phone, with the torch function on full, was pressed into his shaking hands, and he waved it wildly around the room, checking in the shadows while the other gave him space to ensure he was safe.

Eventually he calmed enough to accept Lan Xichen’s arms around him, as he was pulled into the other’s lap and hugged tightly.

“You’re safe, sweetness, you’re safe here with me.” Lan Xichen kept up the steady, soft, stream of reassurance, stroking his hair and kissing wherever his lips landed until Jiang Cheng regained some measure of control over himself.

He didn’t have quite enough to control his tongue, however, “Don’t leave me, Xichen, please don’t leave me. I’m trying so hard to be better for you. I am.”

The stroking hand paused, then slid to his shoulders and held him away from Lan Xichen’s chest so the other could look at him, “What do you mean, Wanyin? Of course I’m not going to leave you, I know you don’t like the dark, it’s not a surprise to me. I’ll hold you until dawn or the power comes back on. I don’t mind.”

“B-but you’re avoiding me. You’re staying at work all the time now, like you don’t want to be with me, or you’re seeing someone e-else.” It could only be described as a wail, and Jiang Cheng hated himself for it, but he couldn’t stop now the dam had burst. “I kn-know I haven’t given you heirs yet, but I’m trying my b-best.”

“Wanyin? Why…” Lan Xichen sucked in a breath, then moved his hands up to cup his face gently, “you silly thing, we’ve discussed this again and again. I don’t care. It will happen when it happens, or it won’t, and that’s fine too,” Lan Xichen’s thumbs rubbed over Jiang Cheng’s cheeks, wiping away the tears, “I’m working late because I’m trying to clear my schedule early, before your next heat cycle. I’ve been looking for places we can get away from the city and take it easy for a while, and you might relax enough to enjoy yourself a little more, instead of worrying incessantly about something that is so completely out of your control.”

Of course, Lan Xichen’s words only made him cry harder, and try to wrap himself around the other.

“And how could I consider seeing someone else? Who would ever match up to my beautiful omega? No one else smells of lotus and soft spring rain on a lake like you, no one else has that fiery, challenging gaze for me,” Lan Xichen feathered his lips against Jiang Cheng’s jawline, and he preened at the praise falling from the other’s lips, hmming his approval, “and no one else would look half as divine spread across our bed, tousled and well-loved and marked so completely as mine, as you do.”

Jiang Cheng growled, “Yes, I want that, show me, alpha, Xichen, show me I’m yours.”

Lan Xichen pulled the torch phone out of Jiang Cheng’s hands, and placed it besides them, so it still cast a glow, and pushed forward to pin the other beneath him. “As my omega wishes.”

***

Jiang Cheng lay back against the unfamiliar-smelling bed, while Lan Xichen rubbed gently at the arch of his right foot. He had never considered his feet erogenous zones but the way Lan Xichen touched him, anywhere, everywhere, so possessively, so soothingly, with such an intent to relax, to make love to. He made a soft, light sound of delight, surrender, and contentment in his throat, which was mirrored by a more aggressive sound in his alpha’s.

The bed would soon be flooded in the scent of their pheromones, overwhelming whatever neutral washing agent the hotel used, when his heat hit in earnest.

But at the moment he was riding it’s edge, extremely sensitive, a little excited, by the nearness of his alpha, but too relaxed to move. That would change soon enough, but he intended to enjoy this for as long as he could.

He was so lucky, to be this cared for, to be this precious to someone. He still felt so guilty that he had suspected Lan Xichen of having an affair, when the other had been working hard to provide an environment where the mate he knew was so tense and stressed about their inability to fall pregnant, could relax, let go, and forget about the newspapers, the pressure of his family, and just enjoy what should, after all, be a  pleasure-filled few days, worshipped by his alpha, like any beautiful omega should be.

“I love you.” The words were out before Jiang Cheng realised, and he would have slapped a hand over his mouth, but the deep, pleased, possessive sound that came from Lan Xichen’s throat made his toes curl.

He felt a flush of heat begin to run through every nerve ending in his body at the same moment Lan Xichen released his ankle, and moved between his lifted knees, almost more tuned in to Jiang Cheng’s heat than he was himself. He looked dangerous, and hungry as he lowered his head to mouth at the pulse pounding at Jiang Cheng’s throat as the room flooded with the smell of lotus lakes in spring.

“Love you too,” he raised his head briefly to reciprocate, before returning back to sucking a mark against Jiang Cheng’s throat.

***

It had been a wonderful idea, to take this away from the city, from all the factors pressing expectation down on Jiang Cheng, and they decided to stay for a day longer than Lan Xichen had originally planned, as they were both exhausted after a very pleasurable heat spent worshipping each other.

It became a regular thing, and it was no surprise to Lan Xichen, who had theorised privately, that it was probably the stress of expectation and regard on Jiang Cheng, that was causing the problems, that it wasn’t too many heats later that they were cuddled on their bed together awaiting the results of the chemist-bought pregnancy test Jiang Cheng had purchased on his way back from the office earlier that evening.

He had sat through so many hopeful tests himself, only to have them come back negative, Jiang Cheng was almost too terrified to look after the required time. He hadn’t wanted to expose Lan Xichen to this side of him, the failed omega, desperate to fulfil his purpose and obsessed with his inability to do so, but he felt that this time, even if it was negative he was in a better place to deal with that, with his alpha, his mate, his husband, by his side.

It was positive, however, and it was a long time before Jiang Cheng was coherent enough at the news to discuss it with Lan Xichen, who held him close as he went from elated to terrified and back again over and over again.

The feelings only abated a little that night in bed, where they lay together in the soft sheen of the lamp behind Jiang Cheng, talking about their future.

“You’ll have to cut back on those ridiculous coffees you drink, baby.” Lan Xichen teased him gently, and Jiang Cheng frowned unhappily.

“Ugh, but where are the gossip mags going to get their photos from if I don’t go to the coffee shop?” He grinned suddenly, “I can’t wait to maternity it up, they are going to get so many baby bump shots. Infertile, separate beds, hah,” he ground his teeth in irritation, then forgot it just as quickly as he went through another plateau of delight at the thought their child growing tenaciously in his belly.

[curiosity-killed]

a bow for the bad decisions: 27

prev | start | next

(on ao3)

The week before the Carp Tower Conference, they’re awoken by the thudding of running steps down the walkway. Jiang Cheng reaches for Sandu even as he squints, bleary-eyed, at the dawn light slipping through the walls. “Jiang-zongzhu! Jiang-zongzhu, it’s urgent,” a voice calls through the door. He’s too sleep-addled to recognize the disciple immediately, but the urgency is clear in any case. Wen Qing pushes herself up to frown as he clambers out of bed and throws on the first outer robe he can find. Cramming his feet into his shoes, he tugs his hair up haphazardly and crosses the room. “What is it?” he demands, sliding open the door. Gao Xiyang has the good sense not to look too startled by his sect leader’s appearance, but that might be because of the genuine alarm in his expression. “It’s Jin-furen, zongzhu,” he says. “She’s come with Jin-xiao-furen and Jin Xue.”

“Yanli is here? With Qin Su and the baby?” Wen Qing has come up behind him, one hand resting over his shoulder blade. He glances over to find her dressed with her hair pulled into a loose bun, a worried frown creasing her brows. “Yes, Jiang-furen, that is correct,” Xiyang says, bowing to both of them. “San-shidi took them to Sword Hall.” Unease is a physical thing, the first nauseous tendrils preceding true fear, as they walk down to the main receiving hall. None of them speak; when he looks over, Wen Qing’s expression is a tight weave of concern and confusion. On impulse, he reaches out and gives her hand a gentle squeeze. She looks to him only briefly, but some of the tension eases around her eyes. When they arrive in Sword Hall, his unease spreads. Jie looks harried, expression strained and hair slipping out of her usual style. Her expensive Jin robes have been traded for traveling clothes, and mud spatters the hem. Beside her, Qin Su looks like nothing so much as the dead walking. Her eyes are a little too-wide, gaze distant, and her face pale as ash. Jin Xue clutched in her arms seems to be the only thing keeping her upright. “Jie?” Jiang Cheng asks. “What’s going on?” “Oh! A-Cheng! Wen Qing,” jie greets, voice bright and brittle. “We’re so sorry to disturb you at such an hour and — and in such state.” “A-jie, what’s wrong?” Jiang Cheng demands. “What happened?” She casts a worried look over her shoulder, hands clenching around her sword, to where Qin Su still stands silent and unmoving. Jiang Cheng eyes her, unsettled. Qin Su has always been bright and cheerful, spring embodied in her laughter and easy conversation. After Rusong died, she mourned deeply but emerged to redouble her efforts everywhere else: as a doting aunt, as a bright young lady of Carp Tower, as a devoted wife. Now, she stands silenced, frost-covered. “Perhaps we should speak somewhere more private,” Wen Qing says. “Let our guests rest after such a journey.” Relief eases through jie’s posture, and she gives a grateful nod. They trail out of the hall behind Wen Qing with Jiang Cheng taking up the rear behind Qin Su and jie. Still draped against Qin Su’s shoulder, a-Xue yawns and lifts his hand in a sleepy wave toward him. “Hi, jiujiu,” he greets. Jiang Cheng gives a strained smile and a little wave back, and his nephew nestles back in. They settle in a receiving room Jiang Cheng rarely uses. His father would speak with sect leaders closely allied to Yunmeng Jiang here when he was alive, but Jiang Cheng so rarely permits outsiders, and the room has settled into silence over the years. Gao Xiyang is sent off with an order for tea and breakfast to be brought to the room, and then the five of them are left sitting around the table in uneasy quiet. At last, jie takes an unsteady breath and gives them a tight, polite smile. It’s the look she wears sometimes in banquets or terse meetings, never around them. “I apologize for causing such a disturbance,” she says. “I would have sent a letter ahead, but—” She casts a quick glance toward Qin Su before steadying herself and turning back to them. She sits up a little straighter, as if Mother’s still here to chide her posture. “Zixuan hasn’t told me everything,” she admits, “but he’s been worried lately — about everything going on. He said he found something and needed to speak with Jin Guangyao but that we — we should go somewhere safe.” There’s a flutter in her voice, a fearful tremble, and Jiang Cheng’s hands clench tight in his skirts over his knees. “What did he find?” Wen Qing asks. Swallowing, jie shakes her head slightly. Her hands have folded into the hems of her sleeves, drawing the pale fabric over the backs of them like soft shields. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I—I’m not sure where he found it or what it was.” “There is a vault.” The three of them jolt a little, turning to Qin Su as one. Her voice is even and flat, her gaze still long-sighted. “Jin Guangyao keeps a vault in his office with precious things,” she says. “I am not permitted to enter, but I’ve seen him enter through the bronze mirror in his study. He and his — his assistants, Xue Chengmei and Mo Xuanyu, used to spend hours in there.” Crossing his arms, Jiang Cheng taps out a discontented rhythm against his sleeve. Wen Qing’s lips have thinned, her thumbtip rubbing against the knuckle of her first finger. “Would Jin Zixuan have access?” he asks. Qin Su shakes her head. “Carp Tower answers to her master,” jie says quietly. “And a-Xuan has always been skilled, even with his injury.” “You think he could find a way through a protective array?” Wen Qing asks. Jie pauses a moment before giving a slight nod. Jiang Cheng exhales, leaning back and loosening his arms. Before Wen Ning punctured a hole through his core, Jin Zixuan had been one of the most capable cultivators in their generation. Even with reduced spiritual power, he still has all his training and years of growing up alongside and under the best mentors in Lanling. “And why would Jin-xiao-furen be in danger?” he asks. He shoots Qin Su an apologetic look immediately. “Not that you aren’t welcome, of course.” Everyone knows how in love Jin Guangyao and Qin Su are. They’ve been heralded as the epitome of a love match since they married. Now, Qin Su’s fingers dig into a-Xue’s sides, and jie worries at her bottom lip. “A-Su received a letter,” she says carefully, “from Qin-furen’s maid Bicao.” Cold prickles across Jiang Cheng’s back, frostwork fingers tapping against his spine and ribs. He doesn’t want to ask. “Jin Guangshan is my father,” Qin Su says. Wen Qing breathes in, sharp, while Jiang Cheng is left staring, uncomprehending. Jin Guangshan can’t be Qin Su’s father. Jin Guangyao was his bastard. If he was Qin Su’s father, too— “Did he know? Before?” Wen Qing asks. “The letter claims Mother told him shortly before our wedding,” Qin Su says. She speaks so evenly, placid and removed from the horror of her words. Jie has reached out, one hand curling around Qin Su’s. She shows no sign of noticing it. “What the fuck,” Jiang Cheng hisses, pushing himself back from the table and standing. He paces toward the door, hand tightening around Sandu. How could he? Jin Guangyao has always been a loving, doting husband — the memories now spoil in Jiang Cheng’s stomach like bad food. Rusong — he can’t. He can’t think about it. Turning back to the table, he lowers himself back to the ground and looks to Qin Su. “You are welcome in Lotus Pier for as long as you’d like,” he says. “We’ll protect you, and if — if he says anything, I’ll lie. No one needs to know you’re here unless you want them to.” It’s the least they can possibly do. “And Zixuan?” Jie’s voice is steady, but her posture is braced, prepared for the worst. “If Jin Guangyao is really planning something,” she says, “and Zixuan confronts him…” She trails off, swallowing hard. At her other side, Wen Qing sighs. There’s a sudden fatigue to her posture, to the tension around her eyes. “If he’s going to kill Jin Zixuan, he’ll make it look like Wei Wuxian or Wen Ning did it,” she says. “The Jin sect leader is far too conspicuous to simply disappear.” “A-Xian?” jie echoes. “But he hasn’t been anywhere near Carp Tower. A-Ling said that — well, that Mo Xuanyu was returning to Gusu with Lan Wangji.” Jiang Cheng frowns, working it over, before understanding hits like a kick to the chest. The missing head — Xue Yang in Carp Tower and running into Wei Wuxian — Zixuan’s discovery— “The discussion conference about the settlements,” Wen Qing says, looking to him with surprise-widened eyes. “Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are going to be there.” “They’re going to walk into a trap,” he curses. Jie looks up sharply, brows furrowing. “You think all this has to do with the rebellions in the settlements?” she asks. “But why?” At her side, Qin Su draws in a breath as if to speak before pausing, pressing her lips together. A small wrinkle has appeared between her brows, the first real expression Jiang Cheng’s seen since she arrived. “You have an idea?” he prompts. She looks up sharply, almost fearful, before looking back down to her hands. A-Xue has wriggled off her lap by now, though he still leans against her with his eyelids growing steadily heavier. It must have been a long night for him, and Jiang Cheng would send him to bed if it weren’t for the way Qin Su still holds onto him with one hand, like a lifeline. “Centralization,” she says. She swallows. “A-Yao—” She cuts off, like the name slipped out of her with sharp edges, and takes in a breath before continuing. “The Chief Cultivator’s authority comes from the sects,” she says, as if reciting some old lesson. “The more the sects need from him, the more they will hand over. My mother wanted me to stay in Laoling and lead it before it was given over as part of my dowry — part of Jin Guangshan’s request.” “Oh,” jie breathes out, eyes going wide briefly. “The cultivator outreach — Wen Qing, your efforts to send physicians and cultivators to small towns.” Shit. They’d been looking for a motive all this time, skipping over the most obvious one. The initiative had never been a political move in the sense of building up Yunmeng Jiang; it had sprung from that very first night Wen Qing brought dinner to his office, when they’d only been discussing an outreach program within Yunmeng. It had grown after that, but the hope had only ever been to help those villages or sects without the resources of the Great Sects. Pressing his thumb to his brow ridge, Jiang Cheng now curses their lack of foresight. Of course it would be a political move, even if that wasn’t the point. They’d helped smaller sects better establish themselves, lessen dependency on the Chief Cultivator. Wen Qing’s name was attached to it, the same name as the war prisoners in settlement camps they’d tried to improve over the years, the same name as the sect’s nightmares made flesh in Wen Ruohan and Wen Ning. If Jin Guangyao could stir up enough rumors, reawaken enough unease around the camps, he could resurrect that old mistrust of anyone with the surname Wen. “Fuck,” he exhales. For once, jie doesn’t chide him for his language. “If enough people thought an organized rebellion was rising in the settlements,” Wen Qing says, “the blame would fall to the most visible Wen alive. Yunmeng Jiang would be put in a corner, the initiative cast out, and the smaller sects once more at his command.” Her voice comes out steady but distant, a slow-dawning horror rising as she speaks. Across the table, jie and Qin Su’s faces are pale and tight. “And if Wei Wuxian were blamed for Jin Zixuan’s death, Jin Guangyao would not only become Sect Leader but also have a galvanizing force for the sects to join behind him. Fuck.” “Fuck!” a-Xue cheerfully echoes. His chirping little voice startles all of them, bright in the horror of their realization. For a moment, Jiang Cheng stares at jie, torn between scolding a-Xue and apologizing for forgetting his nephew’s presence. Before he can, jie’s lips tremble and she starts shaking with laughter. “Jie?” he asks, flummoxed. Her shoulders hitch up as she hides her face in her hands, the little tremors turning abruptly into sobs. Inhaling sharply, Wen Qing reaches out a tentative hand, curling it around jie’s wrist. On her other side, Qin Su pulls a-Xue closer to her side and watches with wet eyes. “I’m sorry,” jie sniffs. “I’m sorry, it’s just — it’s just I thought it would be alright, now that a-Xian’s back. I thought our family would be able to — to come home and—” She cuts off, looking away as she wipes at her tears.   “I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t — there are much more important things than crying.” “Da-gu,” Wen Qing says, squeezing her wrist, “there’s no shame in tears.” She so rarely uses familial titles, and the name seems to startle jie a little. Just enough that she exhales and gives a shaky nod. Lifting her hand, she brushes the tears away from under her eye with the knuckle of her thumb. Her hand shifts to hold onto Wen Qing, their wrists aligned. Drawing in a deeper breath, she gives a firm nod. “Alright,” she says. “Then what are we going to do to stop this?” A week later, Jiang Cheng paces through a back courtyard of Carp Tower with nerves thrumming through him. Despite seeing Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji when they first arrived, he’s yet to be able to catch either of them to talk; Wei Wuxian disappeared partway through the evening banquet, and Lan Wangji remains frigidly evasive. Jiang Cheng doesn’t really want to speak to him first anyway, but he needs to get one of them. Panic has been clambering up his throat the longer he spends he, the more times he has to pretend like everything is fine when Jin Guangyao comes near. His skin crawls with it; his hands itch with the urge to tie him up with Zidian and lay out his crimes for everyone to hear. He can’t do anything without proof, though, and he can’t do anything while Jin Zixuan is still missing. Jin Guangyao had claimed Jin Zixuan was ill and resting in seclusion, his face all perfectly kind and sympathetic. It’s happened before; with his core weakened, Jin Zixuan no longer boasts the immunity of most strong cultivators and is more susceptible to illness, to fevers and colds that force him to rest until they abate. With everything else going on, Jiang Cheng still finds himself wishing he could believe it’s true this time. There’s a flicker in his periphery, a flash of talisman-yellow in the corner of his vision, and he turns on his heel in time to see a paperman stumbling across the floor. He stares for a moment as the familiar shape trips into a bush before taking three quick strides over and crouching. “Wei Wuxian, get the fuck out here,” he hisses. Silence falls abruptly on the bush where there had been the soft rustle of movement. Glaring, Jiang Cheng leans down until he spies the little figure flattened along one of the branches. “If you don’t come out now, I’ll go dunk your body in the lotus pond,” he warns. After another moment, the paperman clambers out of the branches and into Jiang Cheng’s palm. Perched there, it crosses its arms up at him before kicking at his thumb. Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, and straightens. He lifts his hand to his chest to let the paperman slide into a safe spot between his outer robes before setting off for Lan Wangji’s rooms. There’s a disorienting sense of familiarity as he crosses the tower with Wei Wuxian’s paperman occasionally tugging at his collar to direct him. Wei Wuxian had learned paper metamorphosis at far too young an age for anyone’s comfort, and Jiang Cheng can’t count the number of times they’d snuck around Lotus Pier with Wei Wuxian tucked into a sleeve or his outer collar.  Now, Wei Wuxian directs him silently to a set of doors with a candle still burning behind them, and Jiang Cheng forces himself to raise a hand and knock. Even expecting Lan Wangji, he can’t help the instinctive dislike that has his lip curling at the sight of him. Lan Wangji’s own expression shutters into something hard and vicious, and he’s halfway to closing the doors in Jiang Cheng’s face when Wei Wuxian flits out to catch on Jiang Cheng’s hand and tug. Lan Wangji’s eyes widen briefly as they track the movement. “Well?” Jiang Cheng demands. “Are you going to make me stand out here the whole time?” Disdain flickers across Lan Wangji’s face, but he steps back to permit Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian’s paperman. Alarm jolts through Jiang Cheng at the sight of Wei Wuxian, slumped at a table with one hand propping his head up and the other lax against the wood. He’s seen it a hundred times but still — still it makes worry shoot through him even as the paperman falls flat on the table and Wei Wuxian comes to with a sharp inhale. He looks…better. Still too thin, still with a hint of strain in the lines of his face, but he’s not so pale anymore. Something he can’t quite name settles in Jiang Cheng’s chest as his brother shoots to his feet. He sways a little, but Lan Wangji is there, of course, to catch him, to steady him. Jealousy is a familiar bitterness in his mouth. “Jin Zixuan,” Wei Wuxian blurts out. “Jin Guangyao has Jin Zixuan in the vault. He found Chifeng-zun’s head and confronted Jin Guangyao and now he’s in a body-locking array.” “Chifeng-zun?” Jiang Cheng demands, thrown. The rest is — well, it might be better than what they’d hoped. If Jin Zixuan is in a body-locking array, it means he’s still alive. It means they’re ahead of Jin Guangyao’s plan at last. “I’ll explain later,” Wei Wuxian says, waving a hand as he reaches down with his other to grab a simple dizi sitting on the table. “Now we need to get Jin Zixuan out of there before Jin Guangyao can come back and finish the job.” Lan Wangji’s expression has tensed in what might be a frown, if Jiang Cheng were feeling generous. His gaze flicks to Jiang Cheng, then back to Wei Wuxian, who tilts his head briefly. Breathing out something like amusement, Wei Wuxian reaches over to squeeze Lan Wangji’s wrist, and Jiang Cheng looks away. He should have just dropped Wei Wuxian off and turned away. There’s no point in him being here. “Come on, I don’t know when Jin Guangyao or that other cultivator will come back,” Wei Wuxian urges, nodding pointedly toward the door. He’s tied on the stupid mask he was wearing earlier once more, like that’s really going to stop anyone from recognizing him. Hesitating only a moment, Jiang Cheng firms his shoulders and lets himself be dragged along. He’s part of this whether Lan Wangji wants him there or not. “How did you get through the mirror? Qin Su said it was Jin Guangyao’s private vault,” Jiang Cheng asks as they cross back through the same halls he just walked. “Some other cultivator was going in — all in white and blue, like he was trying to be Lan Zhan or something — and I hitched a ride,” Wei Wuxian explains. “I didn’t get a good look at it, but it feels like an interlocking illusion and repulsion array. Probably a seal to block it off from intruders, too.” The halls of Carp Tower are eerily empty this time of night, their shadows their only company as they cross the tower. It’s almost familiar, the three of them hastening through the night; all they’re missing is Nie Huaisang and the haunting sound of puppets scrabbling at the temple door. There’s a moment when it clicks, the reason it all feels so familiar, so like a step into the past. It’s been thirteen years, and Wei Wuxian looks exactly the same. Without his core, he should show the marks of time in soft lines by his eyes, by his mouth, the same way Jin Zixuan and jie have with their weaker cores. Instead, he matches Jiang Cheng’s memory perfectly. He looks like he stepped out of time in those days before he died and simply took a long walk to show up here. He nearly misses a step at the thought, his stomach swooping uneasily. The doors to Jin Guangyao’s study aren’t sealed, which should be their first sign. They slide open at Wei Wuxian’s touch as if recently oiled, and no one is around to raise an alarm. Inside, the study is neat and orderly, and Jiang Cheng has a brief twang of guilt. If they’re wrong, they’re violating the trust of a man he considers almost family. He brushes it away. If they’re wrong, they’ll explain to Jin Guangyao what’s happened and, like Jin Zixuan initially said, he’ll assist in unraveling this plot. The bronze mirror hangs on the far wall, and Jiang Cheng reaches out with his spiritual energy to probe at the arrays. Like Wei Wuxian said, he can feel the threads of both illusion and repulsion arrays intertwined: one to disguise the portal as nothing more than an ordinary mirror and the other to gently dissuade anyone from looking closely. There’s no array actually blocking entry, not like the defenses normally set up. Later, he’ll realize it’s the second sign. “You’re sure it’s this?” Jiang Cheng asks, looking over to Wei Wuxian. He’s standing close on the other side, fingertips trailing along the edge of the mirror. After a moment, he shakes his head. “Maybe whoever I saw forgot to reset the defense array?” he asks. “I guess we should thank him.” There’s a troubled crease to Lan Wangji’s brow, but he doesn’t offer any objection as Jiang Cheng steps forward through the mirror. As he passes through, the arrays shimmer with spiritual energy and then spark again as Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji follow through. Inside the vault are rows of neat blue shelves, that summer-haze shade that marks Carp Tower apart from Gusu’s indigos and sky blues. There are racks of swords and shelves hung with talisman-lined covers. His gaze flits over them, briefly snagging on a half-familiar sword in a crimson scabbard. Sitting in the midst of all of it is Jin Zixuan. His eyes are open, posture stiff and correct, but he makes no movement at their entrance, shows no sign of even realizing they are there. Blood stains his side, seeping into his golden robes. “Shit,” Jiang Cheng swears even as Wei Wuxian crosses the room. “Can you undo it?” Wei Wuxian kneels in front of Jin Zixuan, brow furrowing in concentration. Behind him, Jiang Cheng can feel Lan Wangji’s presence like the cold off snowbanks. He ignores it in favor of watching as Wei Wuxian reaches out, briefly covering the backs of Jin Zixuan’s hands with his own. There’s a small surge, a pulse and an ebb. At last, Jin Zixuan slumps forward, eyes falling shut and body loosened from the locking array. He sways forward until he’s resting against Wei Wuxian, who’s stilled with wide eyes and sudden tension strung through his shoulders. “Come on,” Jiang Cheng says, crossing over. “We need to get him back to a room.” Wei Wuxian nods, and between the two of them, they lever Jin Zixuan up to his feet. Lan Wangji hangs back a little, watching like Jiang Cheng might reach over and stab Wei Wuxian here and now. Huffing out a breath, Jiang Cheng doesn’t roll his eyes but instead focuses on getting his limp brother-in-law out of this cursed room. As they cross the study, nearly to the doors, Jiang Cheng almost lets himself believe they’re safe. The doors slide open and everything falls apart. The conference seems to have reconvened in this very courtyard without warning: Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen freeze with one foot each upon the first step while Nie Huaisang’s still draped against them. Behind them, Jin Ling has stopped in the middle of putting his sister into a half-familiar arm hold. Across the courtyard, a whole contingent of minor sect leaders and Jin disciples gapes. “Jiang-zongzhu? Hanguang-jun,” Jin Guangyao starts, politely baffled, “what—” “A-die?” Jin Mu’s voice is so small, so much more fragile than she ever lets it be. her gaze flickers from Jin Zixuan’s still form, to Wei Wuxian, to Jiang Cheng, briefly beseeching. Jiang Cheng’s heart gives an awful, hollow thump. “What have you done to my father?” she demands, voice sharpening. “You awful lunatic! What did you do to him?” She takes a step forward, fists clenched at her sides. “Ruxia, please be careful,” Jin Guangyao says. “I don’t believe that’s Young Master Mo at all.” Cold prickles up from the marrow of his bones, nipping at the backs of his shoulder blades and all down his arms. “Surely, isn’t this Wei Wuxian?” Jin Guangyao says. He speaks with such innocent wonder, such wide-eyed confusion. There’s a gasp behind him; Jiang Cheng can’t tell where it comes from. “He almost killed Jin-zongzhu all those years ago and now he’s come back to finish him!” one of the Jin disciples blurts out. On Jin Zixuan’s other side, Wei Wuxian is still as stone. A quick glance across tells Jiang Cheng all he needs to know: that thin-lipped strain, the calculation in his eyes — they’re familiar from all the times he was prodded during the war but had no answer to give. “But san-ge,” Nie Huaisang objects, plaintive, “Wei Wuxian died, didn’t he? Everyone knows how Jiang-xiong himself killed him.” He doesn’t flinch anymore; he’s trained himself out of that. He can’t help the way he stiffens, though, to hear the truth laid out with Wei Wuxian right beside him. “But who cold stop the Yiling laozu from returning from the dead? His evil spirit must have been waiting all this time to return and torture good people like Jin-zongzhu again!” Yao-zongzhu, of course. When has he ever been scarce when he could be a nuisance instead? “True, true!” A clamor rising as the crowd converges. Jin Ling’s voice is thin and unsure when he speaks, looking between the clamoring cultivators and his own family as if for guidance. “But xiao-shushu, jiujiu hit him with Zidian on Dafan Mountain and nothing happened,” he objects. “If he were possessing someone, Zidian would force him to reveal himself, wouldn’t it? So he may not be Wei Wuxian, right?” There’s so much fragile hope in his voice. Jiang Cheng’s stomach sinks. When has he had time to grow fond of Wei Wuxian? Is he to lose his errant uncle again when he’s only just met him? “A-Ling, you’ve reminded me of what else appeared at Dafan Mountain,” Jin Guangyao says thoughtfully. “Wasn’t he the one who summoned the Ghost General Wen Ning? The only way to know for sure is to make him remove his mask.” Whoever Mo Xuanyu was — Jiang Cheng half-remembers a glimpse of a sour-faced young man, the much louder wailing of rumors around his expulsion — Jiang Cheng isn’t sure whether to curse or bless him. “He must be back for revenge! Leading the Wens to take over!” “He always hated Jin-zongzhu! Don’t you remember how he even attacked him during the war?” “And Qiongqi Pass — terrible—” They aren’t getting out of this together. If Wei Wuxian stays, he will be torn apart by the mob yet again. Swallowing, Jiang Cheng tightens his hold in Jin Zixuan’s limp form and tugs him out of Wei Wuxian’s grip. Thrown, Wei Wuxian turns to him with his arm still lifted as if to support Jin Zixuan. “Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng bellows. “How dare you!” With the arm not supporting Jin Zixuan, he unsheathes Sandu in a glittering arc. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen, visible through that stupid mask that is now their only hope, but Lan Wangji grabs him by the wrist and leaps. Sandu misses them by a hairsbreadth, slicing through the edge of Wei Wuxian’s outer robe. “Stop them! After them! Go!” The disciples turn and bolt, a flock of minnows swarming after a crumb. “A-Ling, a-Mu,” Jiang Cheng snaps. “Watch over your father. We’ll take care of them.” They turn to him with wide eyes before Jin Ling bobs his head in a nod. Ruxia’s eyes narrow briefly, something searching in her look as she lags a step behind Jin Ling. It’s not fair to settle their father’s limp weight in their arms, but maybe it will keep them out of the fray, keep them safe from this backlash. He runs toward the front in the same direction the disciples took after Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. If he’s lucky, they’ll have slipped out before anyone could catch them. The two of them have always been quick, all that mirrored energy rushing through them like rivers sweeping them downstream. Jiang Cheng has never been lucky. He reaches the top of the grand staircase in time to see Wei Wuxian push Lan Wangji to one side with the flat of his palm, pressing him out of the circle of swords now aimed at his throat. “Yiling laozu,” Jin Guangyao calls as he walks forward, “why do you still wear the mask even now?” There’s a wry twist to Wei Wuxian’s lips, frustration, resignation. Lifting his hands to the back of his head, he tugs loose the mask and drops it to the stairs with a clatter. At once, the crowd recoils with gasps and murmurs of shocked confirmation. The dread Yiling laozu stands loose-handed, with a collar of swords ringing his neck, and old irritation in the angle of his mouth. “Yiling laozu. You are truly worthy of your title,” Jin Guangyao says with slow applause. “Returning to the world after thirteen years, you can still make all of us look like fools. Not only Jin Ling but even Jiang-zongzhu and Hanguang-jun were fooled by you.” From this distance, Jiang Cheng can still see the way Wei Wuxian’s gaze dips low before his lips quirk up in cool amusement. He’s always been proud, but this is an arrogance he never wore till the wore: the haughty acceptance that the world was too stupid to catch up and he would pay the prize for their inadequacy. It slips over him now like a familiar robe. “You’re right,” he calls back jauntily. “He’s not right.” Fucking idiot, Jiang Cheng thinks as the assembly draws in a collective breath, faltering, and Lan Wangji takes a step forward with his gaze fixed on Wei Wuxian. “I have always known he was Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says steadily, with all the gravitas of a sworn vow. “Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian hisses, turning to him. In some other life, Jiang Cheng must have taken a mundane life and common sense for granted to such an extent that this life is a punishment for that pride. He can think of no other explanation for why he now has to stand and watch as his brother whispers urgently to Lan Zhan, who has drawn his sword and seems prepared to take on the entire cultivation world singlehandedly. He can’t hear the words they say, but he can see the surprise and slow-dawning smile bloom across Wei Wuxian’s face. The way his breath catches a little, and his smile turns watery as he shakes his head. It’s with mild horror that Jiang Cheng realizes he has actually overestimated Lan Wangji. Here, he thought the man would have thought to confess to Wei Wuxian somewhere between getting him back from the dead and tying him up with some sacred marital ribbon. But no. No, Lan Wangji had to wait till they were ringed in by all the world’s teeth before he could be bothered to say a word. Jiang Cheng really is going to kill him, as long as they survive this. Wei Wuxian, because he has neither care for Jiang Cheng’s health nor his own survival, is the one to start the fight. He’s armed with a dizi — a plain bamboo flute, not even Chenqing, which is still carefully locked away in Lotus Pier — and he makes no move to summon any resentment to him. Even here in purified lands, Jiang Cheng is certain the grandmaster of demonic cultivation could find some thread of yin energy to draw up and lay the cultivators low. But Wei Wuxian wouldn’t. Wei Wuxian still has some belief in all the honor and nobility that led to his first death, and Jiang Cheng can’t decide if he wants to yell at him or cry for how stupid and unfair it all is. He is pinned here at the top of the stairs, unable to defend his brother, unwilling to fight against him. He’s still standing there, hand white-knuckled around Sandu, when Jin Ling runs up panting. “A-Ling?” he demands, startled. “Where’s Ruxia?” Jin Ling shakes his head, even as he gapes at the fight in the middle of the stairs. “She ran off,” he says. “I couldn’t get her in time. A-die’s with the physicians and she said she couldn’t sit around.” Somehow, impossibly, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian with their single sword and stupid flute between them have cleared a path down the steps. They leap, and Jiang Cheng catches a flicker of gold before them. “Shit,” he hisses. Ruxia stands before the foot of the stairs, a sword in her hand. For a moment, Jiang Cheng doesn’t recognize it. She’s too young for her own spiritual weapon, and no one here is missing their blade. Then, with a jolt, he realizes where he’s seen that bloodred scabbard, those golden ornaments. He always wondered what happened to Wen Qing’s sword, who found it in the aftermath of the war. Now, it wavers in his niece’s hand as she holds it at Wei Wuxian’s neck. From here, he can’t hear their exchange, but he recognizes the shape of his brother’s name on Ruxia’s lips. “A-Mu!” Jin Ling blurts out, pressing forward. They’re too far away to intervene, to stop them. They can only watch as Wei Wuxian steps forward away from Ruxia, as the sword glitters in a sharp plunge. Wei Wuxian’s shoulders stiffen, his step falter. Jiang Cheng recognizes the angle of the sword too well. For a breath, he is kneeling in ashes with his brother’s blood on his hands. There’s a flash of white as Lan Wangji pushes Ruxia away and pulls Wei Wuxian forward. They disappear into the night, and the stairs descend into chaos. Fear shakes through Jiang Cheng, a long-forgotten horror. He’s always forgetting how fragile his brother’s life is, how easily it can be sundered. For so long, Wei Wuxian was his indomitable big brother, sword and shelter wrapped up in one lean frame. Even with the proof of his mortality on his hands, some part of Jiang Cheng had still believed that this couldn’t be the end, that Wei Wuxian couldn’t be torn from them so simply. He’d been proven right with this return. Wei Wuxian is alive and they’d have time to figure things out, to talk and fight and settle into some new pattern. Now, his brother’s blood drips from Wen Qing’s sword as it slips from his niece’s slack hand. He’s down the steps in an instant, fear hastening his feet. Wei Wuxian can’t die, not again, not yet. They haven’t even spoken, have barely seen each other except in harried flashes. “Jiujiu?” Ruxia asks. There are tears in her eyes, her shaking palms upturned as if she can see the blood on them. “Jiujiu, did I kill him? Did — did I do wrong?” she asks, pleads. Swallowing hard, he grips her shoulders and tries to will some sense of steadiness into her unsteady frame. He has so little to offer. “A-Mu, it’s alright,” he soothes. “You were trying to protect your father. You were trying to do the right thing.” It’s not enough to fix it. He doesn’t even know where he could begin to set things right. Some times he thinks they were always destined to follow this road, that their fates were set the moment Father brought a little orphan into Lotus Pier and told Jiang Cheng he was his brother. The rain has started, a slow drizzle that trickles down his shoulders and drips into his hair. Behind him, he hears Jin Ling’s footsteps running close. “Listen, a-Mu,” he says, as gently as he can. “Stay with a-Ling and your father, alright? Don’t do anything reckless, and don’t listen to the gossip.” She blinks up at him, eyes tear-bright and owlish, but she manages a nod. It’s as good as he’ll get. Straightening, he turns to Jin Ling. “A-Ling, watch out for your sister,” he orders. “Both of you take care of each other. We’ll get everything sorted out.” He’s not sure he believes it, but he can’t promise them any less. “Jiujiu, where are you going?” Jin Ling asks, already reaching out for his sister. She goes willingly for once, holding tight to his arm. “I’m going to go find your uncle,” Jiang Cheng says, unsheathing Sandu. It’s only once he’s in the air that he pulls out the talisman Sun Luzhou gave him. A spark of qi activates it, and pale gold fire engulfs the paper. As he turns out toward the forests edging Lanling, it burns brighter and pulls him further into the night. He skims low over the trees, looking out for any sign of movement below. The rain has increased to a proper downpour now, and it lashes his skin as he flies. Wiping water from his eyes, he nearly misses the sudden surge in the talisman and the flicker of white beneath the dark canopy. He drops, leaping down from Sandu once he’s low enough and striding forward. Sandu slides into her sheath with a familiar hum, and Lan Wangji twists around with his own sword raised. Jiang Cheng’s breath catches as he draws up a palm flame and finds the light flickering over Wei Wuxian’s sallow face. He’s slumped against a tree with one hand curled around the wound in his side, unconscious. Lan Wangji’s expression is set, wrath in the cold line of his brow and the steady grip on Bichen. Ignoring him, Jiang Cheng kneels before Wei Wuxian and reaches out for his wrist. “Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Wangji growls. “Take him to Lotus Pier,” Jiang Cheng orders, finding Wei Wuxian’s pulse thready and fast. “The wards will recognize him, and Wen Qing is there.” Years of instinct and habit have him checking Wei Wuxian’s meridians before he’s thought better of it. He draws in a sharp breath, hand going tight around his wrist. There’s spiritual energy there, but it’s sluggish, stagnant in his meridians. Swallowing hard, Jiang Cheng forces himself to loosen his grip and turn to Lan Wangji. “Well?” he demands. Lan Wangji’s frowning now, scrutinizing him like he’ll see through Jiang Cheng if he just stares hard enough. Irritation rises up, a flood built up from years of Lan Wangji’s cool isolation, from Wei Wuxian’s absence, from all the hurt Jiang Cheng has pummeled into anger. “Lan Wangji, I don’t give a fuck about you or what you think of me,” he snaps, “but I swear to the heavens, if you let my brother bleed out because you’re too prideful to take him home to Lotus Pier, I will break your fucking jaw.” That earns him a blink, a quickly-shuttered glimpse of surprise. Standing, Jiang Cheng steps away and unsheathes Sandu. “And you?” Lan Wangji asks abruptly. “What will you do?” When he looks over, Jiang Cheng finds Wei Wuxian cradled in Lan Wangji’s arms, Bichen already drawn and hovering in wait. Good. At least that’s something. “I’m going to go cover your asses before the whole cultivation world comes for his neck,” he says. Yunmeng Jiang is no longer the unsteady young sect rebuilding from devastation. He’s no politician, but he’s learned in the years since Wei Wuxian died. He’s not going to let it happen again.

[gladysplummer]

A Good Start

Thom and Moiraine’s initial attraction to each other

Steam, hot water, lavender soap, and quiet. Once Lan had finally gotten the country boys to quit running their mouths to their attendant at Baerlon’s Stag and Lion Inn, Thom could finally enjoy his hot bath in peace.

Attempting to empty his mind and relax a little, Thom allowed his thoughts to wander, letting them float up to the surface of his consciousness and just as gently pushing them away. Thoughts of their recent journey flowed by. The boys. Lan. Moiraine.

Now, there was an interesting one. As beautiful as she was intelligent, as commanding as she was mysterious, women like her didn’t just come along every day. As much as the fact that she was Aes Sedai repelled him, the rest of her beckoned him forward, piquing an interest that Thom had long since given up for dead.

Aes Sedai calm layered over Cairhienin reserve, the woman did not reveal a speck that she did not wish to reveal, either of her plan for their journey or her personal thoughts on matters. Thom wondered what lay beneath those guarded walls, wondered what it would take to dismantle them. Who was Moiraine when no one else was watching, when the cares of the world didn’t rest so heavily on her shoulders, when she could be totally herself, uninhibited?

A mental image of the thought flashed across his mind—Moiraine, uninhibited, flushed, hair wild across his pillow. Fool! He immediately admonished himself, shaking his head to dispel the unbidden image. She is Aes Sedai. And either young enough to be his daughter or old enough to be his mother besides. With more important affairs to attend to than the attentions of a foolish old man.

But there were other, more achievable ways to break down her icy exterior.

Yes. If Thom Merrilin could do one thing, it would be to learn to make her laugh.

***

“I am ready,” Moiraine said, pen poised above a fresh page in her worn notebook. “Tell me what you saw. Tell me everything.” Her dark eyes bore into Min’s with an intensity that belied her otherwise cool demeanor. “Both individually and together.” They hadn’t gotten a chance to speak in-depth about Min’s visions last night before dinner and so they had agreed to meet privately to discuss them after an early breakfast today. The pair sat in the inn’s private dining room, Lan casually buffing his nails with a dagger outside the closed door.

Min swallowed and started from memory, one by one. She didn’t quite understand Moiraine’s fixation on the three men—practically boys, really—from the backwoods of Andor, but she did want to help. And if her visions could help somehow, in ways she didn’t see yet, she was happy to lend her talents to someone who could make sense of them. Methodically, she recited her visions around the Two Rivers folk one by one. If anything stood out as significant to the Aes Sedai, she gave no indication, merely jotting down Min’s words as if writing down the shopping list for the market. But perhaps that was because Min hadn’t gotten to the gleeman yet.

Min had begun with the boys, both because that was who Moiraine seemed most interested in and because the images swirled most potently around them, and now she wrapped up her reading of the boys with descriptions of the particular sparks that linked the three of them up, with Rand at the center. From there, she moved on to Egwene, backlit by her own sparks, in seven swirling colors, that tied her in different ways to the three.

“Nothing new surrounds Master An—Lan— since he came through here on your way down country, except for the gold sparks I see around all of you as a group now…” Min trailed off. She wasn’t sure how to tell Moiraine the rest. The nonsensical images dancing about the others’ heads felt impersonal, but there was something new for Moiraine and unlike most of what Min saw, she knew exactly what it meant.

“And the gleeman? Do the sparks contain him as well?” Moiraine prompted when Min trailed off.

“Yes, he’s mixed up in all of it too,” Min started, shifting uneasily in her chair. She wasn’t sure how to share the rest. It was so personal, and the few people she did speak to about her gift got so uncomfortable when she was honest about what she saw. Everyone always thought they wanted Min to read them, but they were seldom content with the answers. It made Min hesitate to tell the rest, having gotten the impersonal bits out of the way.

Moiraine seemed to detect her hesitation. Whereas she had been mainly focused on writing, she returned Min’s gaze expectantly, leaning forward as if to wrench every drop of the truth from Min’s eyes.

“Yes, and?” Moiraine asked quietly, pen still at the ready even as she leaned closer.

Min took a deep breath and decided there was nothing for it but plain honesty. Moiraine clearly wanted the whole truth and she would get what she asked for. Min surmised she would be content with nothing less, and she hadn’t faltered when Min read her during her last visit. “You know how I can look at two people and know they’ll marry?”

Moiraine nodded almost absently as her pen returned to the paper.

“I know who Thom will marry. It’s you.”

Looking down at her notebook, Moiraine’s expression didn’t change, but her quill did pause a moment. Then it resumed.

“Anything else?” she asked briskly. “Anything we haven’t covered yet? I have already written down what we were able to discuss last night.”

“No, Moiraine, that’s all I have for now. I’ll let you know if anything changes,” Min replied, relieved that Moiraine did not seem upset with her.

“Thank you, Min,” Moiraine responded, gathering her things. “I know that your visions can be difficult or unpleasant to process, but your gift helps further the work of the Light, and your talent is appreciated.”

With that, she glided to the door and collected Lan on her way out. Together they returned to their rooms to prepare for a day visiting the Blues’ eyes-and-ears network in Baerlon, and hopefully taking in some of the local cuisine while they were out.

Egwene had already left for the day, so when Moiraine closed the door behind her, she stood gratefully alone in the small room. If she had maintained her calm exterior, it did not match what she experienced inside. It was not the part about Thom that had shocked her; it was the marriage part. Marriage had never entered her mind. No, that was not quite accurate; she actively did not wish to be married. Since Gitara’s Foretelling, her course in life had stretched before her as straight and precise as an arrow, pointed toward finding and protecting the Dragon Reborn. Toward finding Rand or Mat or Perrin. That goal left no room for anything—or anyone—else. Which had never discontented her; most Aes Sedai outside of the Greens never married anyway. Marriage?

To Thom? Thomdril Merrilin. It was not as though she had not appreciated his quick wit and his startling blue eyes, but she had the sense to hold the man at length. For hidden purposes of his own, he masqueraded as a gleeman now, but Moiraine could never forget that name or the man who bore it. Not that she had ever been particularly close to her half-brother Taringail, but fifteen years ago she had certainly taken note of the man most likely to be his killer.

Yes, perhaps the Thom part vexed her as much as the marriage part.

“The Wheel weaves as the wheel wills,” she told herself aloud, as she had told her travelling companions many times. She wryly suspected that the phrase convinced and comforted her now as much as it did the Two Rivers folk. Releasing her grip from her silk skirts, she shook her head, poured a little water into the chipped basin, and splashed some onto her face. She took a few deep breaths and resolved to trust in Min and the Pattern. It certainly was not the first thread of the weave that she did not understand, after all.

Settling a light cloak over her squared shoulders, she made her way back to the common room, taking some more calming breaths and willing the flush creeping up her cheeks to recede. Lan had not come down yet, so she stood off to the side of the emptying common room, alone but for a few patrons getting a late start to their breakfast. And of all people, Thom, burn the man! No doubt preparing for a day of common room entertainment. Grateful that her high-necked blue gown concealed the flush creeping back up her throat, her eyes cast about for something, anything to occupy her for the few moments until Lan would surely appear in the doorway. The bond let her know he remained upstairs, but surely any moment now… Where was that inn cat? Cirri, she believed his name was.

Displayed on the wall near her head hung, of all things in a town increasingly besieged by Whitecloaks, an old map of Tar Valon, which her eyes began tracing. Her casual examination of the map belied her racing thoughts as she nonchalantly eyed the ink drawing. Tucked inside two folds of the Erinin, the island city appeared as a vertical oval with pointed ends, its banks forming protective lips around the White Tower grounds, a grand avenue creating a slit from top to bottom, and North Harbor, small and round, sat nestled at the apex of the slit.

Noticing Moiraine regarding the map, Thom sidled over.

“You know, they say most men can’t find North Harbor,” he observed casually. Too casually.  

Failing to quash the grin blooming on her lips, Moiraine suddenly appeared to be preoccupied with smoothing a skirt that had apparently gone wrinkled in the last few seconds. The allusion to such an intimate topic after Min’s revelation rocked her all over again, but she could not help finding it amusing in spite of herself. Having lain with both women and men in her lifetime, Thom’s quip was perhaps closer to the truth than even he realized. She took a minute to regain composure. When she met his blue gaze again, her lips had been tamed but her eyes were smiling. Very well, she thought. Min’s vision comes a little clearer into focus already.

“You only think you know of which you speak, gleeman,” she replied coolly, her tone mismatched with the warmth of her gaze, yet both communicating that she took his meaning precisely. At that moment, Lan blessedly appeared at the bottom of the stairs, ready to be off with Moiraine for the day. She acknowledged Lan and headed toward him, fixing Thom for the briefest moment with a sidelong glance and wickedly arched brow as if to say she saw exactly what he was doing.

Well, perhaps he shouldn’t read so deeply into it, Thom thought. Then again, she was Aes Sedai and Cairhienin and a woman. Perhaps he should read very deeply into it. Or perhaps that was exactly what she wanted him to think. He shook himself, then went to gather his cloak and instruments for a day performing in the sleepy hamlet that the country folk were calling a city.

Well. He had failed to elicit a laugh, he thought. But he was off to a good start.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Flute Solo

For some reason Wei Wuxian has decided to take a walk outside of the fortress, or behind the fortress, or something? Can people just take a stroll outside during wartime? Seems unwise.

There are guards and these extra-bossy crows herding some Wen prisoners along, and Wei Wuxian stands up above and gets totally overwhelmed by resentful energy.  

He falls to one knee while clutching his chest, in the spot where all cultivators seem to stow a bag of holding. I guess this is the Xuanwu sword? Or maybe it's his surgical incision; those things can take a while to finish healing. I think the golden core is further down in the abdomen, though; this is right over his heart. 

Wen Qing, Granny, and Fourth Uncle are in the group, but Wen Qing has her hood up so Wei Wuxian can't see her, and he's unlikely to remember the other two, since he only saw them that one time at the shrine, and he doesn't remember people he's literally had dinner with.  

The guards decide to be assholes and beat the shit out of a prisoner because he fell down, which inspires some extra aggressive crows to swoop in and attack the not-dead guy on the ground. That is...not how carrion-eaters behave, generally. They're pretty good about waiting for you to stop moving.

Wei Wuxian continues to struggle, obviously having an orgasm in a lot of pain, and starting to leak resentful energy.

(more after the cut)

He brings his flute up and starts playing it, which causes the wind to rise, rocks to fall from a nearby cliff, and the whole group of people on the ground under him to start having Yin Iron lines crawling up their faces.

Would Wen Qing be a beautiful fierce corpse? She would. 

Eventually Wei Wuxian stops torturing everybody, having gotten it out of his system for a bit, and stands up.  The group gets up, skin clearing up, and starts moving along again, a little shook. Wen Qing looks up and sees Wei Wuxian and hides her face in anguish.

She was there in the dungeon, listening to the same flute music, when he was resentfully slaughtering everyone around her in Yiling. Does she understand what she’s seeing, what he’s become? 

Her hood is off and it seems that he sees her, or at least that he is trying to figure out what he's seeing. But Jiang Yanli arrives before he can do more than look puzzled and cast his eyes around.  

Jiang Yanli asks him what just happened and he laughs and says it was the strong wind, in an extremely transparent lie that Yanli nearly chokes trying to swallow. She drags him back to the meeting while he continues to look troubled.

War Council

Meanwhile, the war council is meeting. This is mostly a boring rehash of stuff we already know, but someone has drawn a nice big map that's been installed in a custom frame. Because apparently the table with the mountains on it is not a good enough representation of "and then we will walk from our house to Wen Ruohan's house," which is basically their plan. The gist of this scene is that Wen Ruohan having the Yin Iron gives him an advantage, in case we needed to be reminded of that. 

The doors fly open and Wei Wuxian and his fabulous ass literally blow into the room. 

Everyone reacts in a comically extreme way. 

He casts his eyes malevolently and/or sexily over to Lan Wangji, who is still grumpy with him, while Jiang Cheng comes up and stands almost as close to him as Lan Wangji used to.

He tells everybody that he might have something to counteract the yin iron.

Everybody: Really? Do tell!  

Wei Wuxian: Happy to!

Wei Wuxian: *theatrical side-eye at judgy ex boyfriend* 

Wei Wuxian: Actually, nope.

He says "we'll see in about a month" while fondling whatever is hidden next to his ribcage.

This behavior, while ridiculous, isn't quite as absurd as it seems from a corporate-meeting standpoint. Part of what cultivators do is invent and refine spiritual tools. So when Wei Wuxian makes this speech, the people in the meeting are going to infer that he is creating a spiritual tool to counter the Yin Iron.

Now it's Lan Xichen's turn to ask everybody’s favorite question. Lan Xichen wasn’t at the party when everyone else asked him, and we're apparently supposed to believe these gossips haven't been talking about the not-sword-carrying 24x7.

Wei Wuxian says he's just not in the mood, and we get to see Lan Xichen's impressive ability to hold his face completely still while he represses his desire to slap someone.

Jin Zixun complains about Wei Wuxian after he leaves, but for once his bitching is on point; he correctly surmises that the counter to yin iron is...yin iron. 

Now, to be fair, the yin tiger amulet is different from the yin iron because it exists in the novel Wei Wuxian specially refines it to be more manageable than the sword it started from. And maybe it’s gel coated to be easier on the stomach. But it's basically the same shit.

Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue exchange intense gazes, just to prove that the young people aren’t the only ones who know how to eye fuck. 

Lying Is Forbidden 

Lan Xichen talks to Lan Wangji, and we discover that Lan Wangji is perfectly capable of lying. He manages to maintain a reputation for not lying but I think the trick is that he just avoids talking in general, so when, for example, people in later years say "who's your masked boyfriend" he just doesn't answer, which isn't really lying. (How many times did Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen ask “where did you get this kid?” and just not get an answer, I wonder.) 

At other times he actually directly lies, as when he claims he is “just passing through” Yiling on a night hunt. The current conversation with Lan Xichen definitely involves actual lying.

Let's play multiple choice answers with the Lan brothers!

Q:  Why is WWX so confident we can have Yin Iron against WRH in a month? 

a.) Because he's been walking around with that Xuanwu sword for months, and it is obviously made of Yin iron b.) because he used a fucking ghost flute to flay Wen Chao more or less in front of me, so he is clearly down with some dark magics c.) I don’t know

Q: Was the death of people in the Yiling supervisory office really related to yin iron?

a.) obviously b.) maybe he was using some other source of overwhelming necromantic power c.) no, he’s not like that

Q. When you approached Yiling, was there anything unusual?

a.) yes, the talismans had been altered to draw in evil spirits b.) yes, everyone except his particular friend Wen Qing had killed themselves in horrifying, outlandish ways c.) are there rules already set for everything in the world?

Xichen, bless him, actually lets Lan Wangji change the subject like that and answers his question honestly.

Xichen: Actually, rules are pretty much shit Wangji: fucking hell, you're telling me this NOW? What have I been doing for the past 18 years then?

They both look just ridiculously beautiful in this conversation. Lan Wangji’s affect with his brother is so interesting. He’s trusting, emotionally open, willing to be seen...but only because he knows Lan Xichen won’t push past his barriers, won’t force him to speak the truth of what’s on his mind.

Awkwardness

The Yunmeng bros roll up, and awkwardness ensues. 

Wangji is frowning hard. His frowns are of the micro variety just like his smiles, but boy they are consistent and Wei Wuxian and Xichen both know how to read them.

Wei Wuxian gives Lan Xichen a small, sunny smile--it seems genuine, not like the fake ones he's trotting out on demand for his family. 

Then he gives Lan Wangji a pointed gaze of yearning and reproachfulness, which Lan Wangji returns, switching from frowning to a softer expression that seems about equal parts hurt, apology, and thirst.

Wei Wuxian reacts to that by bowing again and leaving, with Jiang Cheng quickly following, wondering what the fuck just happened.

Lans Xichen and Wangji pivot gracefully to watch them go, which Lan Wangji should know is not correct post-breakup behavior; you're supposed to act disinterested, my dude. 

And then Lan Xichen asks Lan Wangji what the fuck is going on. Lan Wangji gets one more lie in, saying he's not worried about Wei Wuxian, before reapplying his frown and walking away from the conversation.

Macroexpression Brothers

OP was wrong about Wei Wuxian not hugging Jiang Cheng any more--here he is hanging on him just like the old days, and Jiang Cheng is shoving him off, just like the old days. However, it emerges that this is mostly an act that WWX is putting on to seem normal. 

Jiang Cheng wants to know what's wrong between him and Lan Wangji, and asks why they broke up. Wei Wuxian points out that Jiang Cheng didn't like him dating Lan Wangji before, so why is he pushing him to get back together with him now, and Jiang Cheng says that now they're allies in a war, so Wei Wuxian needs to do his duty and help keep Lan Wangji in fighting trim, nudge nudge. 

Then he starts lecturing Wei Wuxian about sword cultivation and generally good behavior, and Wei Wuxian theatrically nods and give him appraising looks, telling him he really seems like a clan leader now.

Jiang Cheng headshakes this away. Wei Wuxian actually giving Jiang Cheng a sincere compliment here, disguised as teasing, and he's not wrong. Jiang Cheng has matured and is becoming a strong leader. Not strong enough to ignore peer pressure, but that’s true of most clan leaders in this environment. They’re not supposed to ignore peer pressure. 

Wei Wuxian is pointing it out for his own reasons - he doesn't want to be having this conversation - but it's nice to see him giving his clan leader his due.

Jiang Cheng walks away as Wei Wuxian smiles after him; as soon as he's out of sight the smile falls off of Wei Wuxian's face as fast as fast as gravity can take it. It's like someone snuffed a candle.

No one bites back as hard On their anger None of my pain and woe Can show through

But my dreams, they aren't as empty As my conscience seems to be I have hours, only lonely My love is vengeance that's never free

More Awkwardness

Lan Wangji and his ambivalence come looking for Wei Wuxian, standing outside his door and raising a hand to knock before changing his mind and fleeing. 

Lan Wangji is on the back foot for the first time in his relationship with Wei Wuxian; this boy who pursued and pursued and PURSUED him is now a man who won't speak to him.  This boy who hung on every one of his words, and saw through all of his minute facial expressions, has become a man who won't listen to him. Lan Wangji is in the position of pursuer, now, and it's not a role he's well equipped for.

Yanli stops him as he's bailing. He looks so relieved to see her, but he tries to escape immediately after greeting her. She stops him so she can ask what the fuck is going on. 

Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian rolls up while Lan Wangji is in the middle of talking to her.  He's telling her about the heterodox cultivation, and Wei Wuxian busts him. Wei Wuxian steps up and asks what he was telling her, and Lan Wangji says "Wei Ying," but doesn't get much further than that.

Nunya

Wei Wuxian reminds him that he told him to stay out of Jiang Clan business. Now, here I want to mention that "private" and "not your bidness" are culturally specific concepts. OP, for example, grew up in version of Irish-American culture so secretive that the problems of a person's life and (often) the cause of their death are things only discovered by whoever inherits their papers. [OP inherited 3 generations of letters a few years ago, and HOO BOY]

In the version of Chinese culture which we see in this drama, your choices, thoughts & troubles belong to the family and clan, not just to you.  Wei Wuxian, in shutting his elder sister out of his struggles, is not family-ing correctly. Jiang Yanli is right to try to get around that by asking his friend. His friend is also right to give her--in sanitized form--the information she is asking for. 

Wei Wuxian has zero trust in Lan Wangji at this point, unfortunately. He doesn’t know that Lan Wangji has been lying to cover for him; he just knows he’s being a grumpy aggressive holy roller. Now, when Lan Wangji has just been given permission to disregard all 3000 rules and look at a person’s heart, that person’s heart has been hardened against him. 

Yanli is used to dealing with Wei Wuxian's moods at this point -- after all, a lifetime of Jiang Cheng has got her used to volatile little brothers, and Wei Wuxian is clearly a new, not-improved man since his return. 

She tries to get him to chill out while Lan Wangji gives him a death glare -- not a return to the earlier generalized frown, more of a specific "I can't believe how full of shit you are" frown.

Wei Wuxian calls him Lan Er Gongzi, like a dick. Lan Wangji started this but at this point Wei Wuxian is kind of in the lead for who is being The Worst. Lan Wangji executes a beautiful 180 and walks away at top speed. 

Wei Wuxian asks Yanli if he talked about Yiling and when she says he didn't, he realizes he fucked up. 

He goes running after him and calls him Lan Zhan and says "listen to me" but Lan Wangji is no longer in a listening mood. 

Eat A Dick Sword

Lan Wangji is so far in his feelings at this point that he just hauls out his sword and goes after Wei Wuxian, taking complete control of the interaction and forcing Wei Wuxian to concede the fight. Aww, he’s so angry! I love him. 

This is a rough moment for Wei Wuxian. He really genuinely can't hold his own against Lan Wangji, unless he's going to directly use necromancy against him the way he does later in their final confrontation. 

When they first met he was able to defend himself on the rooftop without drawing his sword, but he's weaker now; Chenqing is an adequate hand weapon against most cultivators and puppets, but it's not a match for Lan Wangji's full attack. 

Wei Wuxian is not enjoying this fight, and can’t win in, so he just throws in the towel, exposing his throat and trusting Lan Wangji's control.

On the surface, this fight appears to re-establish their former rapport, but it puts them on such an uneven footing it might actually drive a larger wedge between them.  I think that Lan Wangji has made a strategic error in doing this.  

Lan Wangji seems to want to prove to Wei Wuxian that his new style of cultivation is inadequate, that he would do better with a sword. Swordplay was the beginning of their relationship; their matched power was the source of their mutual attraction. Lan Wangji can't accept that Wei Wuxian has given it up; he doesn't (yet) respect his agency enough to assume that he has a good reason.

This fight functions as yet another punishment that Lan Wangji doles out to Wei Wuxian; not a physical one, this time, but a psychological one, and their relationship pays the price. 

By attacking Wei Wuxian and forcing him to concede, Lan Wangji is showing that they're unequal. By criticizing Wei Wuxian's lack of progress and asking him the same goddamn question everybody else is asking him -- where is your sword? -- Lan Wangji is humiliating him. 

This encounter does not re-establish Wei Wuxian’s trust in him; it just forces him to accept Lan Wangji’s authority, for now. Which is not what either of them really wants. 

Soundtrack: Behind Blue Eyes, by The Who

Writing Prompt: What would Wei Wuxian have said if Lan Wangji had listened to him instead of drawing his sword?

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 05 (first part)

(Masterpost) (previous episode) (this episode, second part)

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes of the Untamed

The Pride of Yunmeng 

Waterfall Date

Lan Wangji gets to experience the two extremes of Wei Wuxian’s interpersonal skills within the span of a few seconds. This is even better than his rooftop date with this horrible annoying terribly, terribly attractive boy.

Lan Wangji has come here on a mission to make Wei Wuxian do his homework, which is why he immediately tells him “let’s go to the library” gazes at him silently for several seconds...

...and then lets him adjust his sleeve for him and step allll the way into his personal space. 

Unfortunately Wei Wuxian is about to guess a Lan Clan secret, so Lan Wangji ends the conversation by saying “let’s go to the library” grabbing him by his sexy arm muscle and dragging him off. Did he hold his arm all the way to the library? Even if he didn’t, his “I don’t touch other people” later at the lake is clearly horseshit. I don’t touch other people unless they are named Wei Wuxian and our brothers aren’t watching. 

(more after the cut!)

Apology in the Library

Wei Wuxian splits his library time between actually doing his homework and trying to make friends with Lan Wangji. And he tries really, really hard, starting by sincerely complimenting LWJ’s calligraphy and offering a pretty okay apology for his prior rooftop antics. Lan Wangji tells him to put his leg down but doesn’t tell him to go sit at his own desk. 

Lan Wangji exhibits steely self-control as he resists this look, which would cause anyone else’s robes to spontaneously un-weave themselves into a pile of threads.

When Lan Wangji won’t look at him because he feels his apology was not sincere, Wei Wuxian becomes much more formally apologetic. First he says “sorry” two more times, and he starts prepping Lan Wangji’s ink.  This involves grinding an ink stick against an ink stone with water, to make a pool of ink for the calligrapher to dip their brush into.

This is not Wei Wuxian being annoying and messing with stuff on Lan Wangji’s desk, a la Zhou Yunlan (Guardian). This is an act of service; a genuinely helpful thing to do if you know how to do it properly --which all of these young scholars definitely do--and an action that casts Wei Wuxian in the role of a servant or junior. 

Then Wei Wuxian offers to kneel down (to offer a major formal apology), while giggling like an adorable dumbass. It's unclear if this is sexual innuendo, just being ridiculously unconcerned about dignity, being slightly into abasing himself for this beautiful person, or all of the above. 

After taking a long moment to consider all this, Lan Wangji slowly and deliberately gives Wei Wuxian three seconds of the eye contact he’s been begging for.

Then Lan Wangji spoils the moment by dropping a silence spell on him. 

Wen Can I Have Some Fun?

The Wen siblings hang out and talk about their secret villainy and then fret about how much it sucks to have a chronic health condition, which is pretty relatable TBH.

I know life seems boring now but just wait until you’re an itinerant zombie with nails in your head.

Wen Qing is a devoted older sister just like Jiang Yanli, although with less fainting and more scheming. 

Good kitty.

Porno in the Library

Now, since this next scene ends with Wei Wuxian being a boundary-crossing jerk, let's start by remembering that Lan Wangji has magically gagged Wei Wuxian against his will three times now, as well as hiding his vulnerable family member behind a ward while lying in wait in order to attack him. So, you know. Teenagers in lust. They are both learning what is and isn't okay.  

Lan Wangji steals a long glance at Wei Wuxian while Wei Wuxian is drawing. 

Wei Wuxian is putting the finishing touches on a gift for Lan Wangji. The gift is a portrait of Lan Wangji with flowers in his hair. This boy is SMITTEN. I think he knows it, too; he just doesn’t think it’s a big deal yet. 

Wei Wuxian, who is good at everything, is really fucking good at drawing. 

When Wei Wuxian presents the drawing to Lan Wangji he says “this is my gift for you.”  This is very good-mannered of Wei Wuxian; Lan Wangji had to supervise him for three days, so he is presenting him with a gift to thank him and say farewell.

Lan Wangji completely ignores him, which is really breathtaking, next-level rudeness.

Wei Wuxian isn’t bothered by this, however, and just embellishes the picture with an extra flower or something before offering it again. This time Lan Wangji takes in and is very very very pleased with it, as evidenced by his slightly widening his eyes and how carefully he places the drawing on the far side of his desk.  

Also he gives Wei Wuxian some prolonged eye contact, and engages in what, for him, is playful banter, calling the gift “extremely boring” when Wei Wuxian prompts him to use more words than usual. 

Then Wei Wuxian spoils the moment by pranking him.

Now - let’s look at this erotic-book situation. This is a boundary-crossing prank, yes, but it’s also an invitation to engage in some form of intimacy. For teens who have access to erotic images, looking at them together can be simple naughty fun. Or it can be a way of discovering and bonding over shared sexual identities and interest. Or it can prompt more direct engagement, up to and including having sex with each other.

Lan Wangji’s horrified reaction means that Wei Wuxian has to characterize this as a prank after the fact, but he might very well have intended it as an invitation to get horny together. 

Either way, his response to Lan Wangji’s “shameless” comment is bound to make an impression.

Wei Wuxian is from the clan of "be free" and he just doesn't see why this is a big deal. And now he’s told Lan Wangji it doesn’t have to be a big deal. And through him, the producers are breaking the fourth wall and telling every viewer that this doesn’t have to be a big deal and that they shouldn’t feel ashamed. 

Threats and rudeness and book destruction ensue, and Lan Wangji is left alone in all kinds of emotional disarray, with a bunch of torn up erotica to tape back together throw away.

Boys on the Rocks

Wei Wuxian brags about his prank to Jiang Cheng and bestie Nie Huaisang, telling them that he got Lan Wangji to cuss at him. He’s going to put a notch on his sword handle for this achievement.  

Jiang Cheng is pissed at Wei Wuxian about this, like he’s pissed at him about everything all the time. Possibly he has already started the seedlings of his lifelong jealousy of Lan Wangji.  

Jiang Cheng doesn’t realize that he’s essentially prepared Wei Wuxian to court Lan Wangji by constantly criticizing, hitting, and threatening him. After a decade of Jiang Cheng’s rough style of brotherhood, Lan Wangji’s elegant and refined hostility rolls off of Wei Wuxian like water off a duck’s back. 

Nie Huaisang wants to make sure Wei Wuxian didn't rat him out, but isn't worried about the destroyed book because he has a whole external drive full of porn. 

Several Brain Cells Trio

These guys do make some questionable choices together, but actually they are all really bright and effective in complimentary ways.

Jiang Cheng is growing into a strong future leader - authoritarian and dickish, yes, but also decisive and unflinching. Wei Wuxian is observant of things around him, always ready for combat, and thinks deeply and strategically about events.  Nie Huaisang is a bottomless font of knowledge, sourced from books and from his own observations. 

So when the Wen spy bird shows up, they spot it, drive it away, identify what it is, and understand that it’s a threat and that its presence has political implications.  

They are all goofballs at times, but highly gifted ones.

Doo Doo Doo Lookin Out My Back Ward

Lan Xichen asks Lan Wangji if he’s found out who was sneaking around his the back ward and Lan Wangji hesitates before reluctantly saying “Wei Ying.” 

Ok seriously - nobody calls him Wei Ying. Nobody refers to him in the third person as as Wei Ying. Calling him Wei Gongzi or Wei Wuxian would be totally normal. His own brother calls him Wei Wuxian. And Lan Wangji has only called him Wei Ying to his face when he was angry. 

But now--immediately after the erotica debacle in the library--he is Wei Ying when Lan Wangji is speaking of him privately with his brother. 

By the way, Lan Wangji's shoulders seem super wide in these robes, don't they? I'm not complaining.

Forgettable Disciple #1

Now we meet apparent nobody Su She, who sucks. He wants to take care of the water ghosts himself. 

He is a no-headband disciple which is like - none of the juniors in the later timeframe go without a headband. The guys who got set on fire at the gate had headbands. One of the Lan Rules is “wear a headband.” Is there anyone else who doesn't rate a headband? This is a plot point later when it comes to the ice cave but for now it just seems that he's that one perpetual intern who never gets promoted and never learned embroidery.

Doctor Qing, Medicine Woman

[OP laughed way too hard at her own joke just now.] Wen Qing is helping Jiang Yanli, and Jiang Cheng is super happy to see her. When did he develop this crush? Because it's already in full swing. 

Did Wei Wuxian just sneer when he noticed Jiang Cheng’s crush? Like macking on Lan Wangji is more appropriate than this? 

I love you and I’m going to advocate killing everyone who matters to you

I’m a nosy jerk and I’m going to be your best friend for life, quite literally

Wei Wuxian complains about Wen Qing ignoring him and she gives him the prettiest, loveliest *sigh* death glare ever.

However when she sees that he's a little brother whose sister utterly dotes on him, she starts thinking maybe he's all right. 

For the Yanli-Qing shippers, there is a tiny breadcrumb here, where Yanli says they met by the river bank.  I don't personally ship my personal girlfriend Wen Qing with Jiang Yanli, but I support your ships wherever they may sail.

Continued in Part 2, right here