#it's good to be able to set boundaries but jiang cheng is not good at setting them where he personally actually wants them

[whetstonefires]

You know I'm realizing one reason you keep seeing mdzs modern AUs where the Jiang parents are alive mainly so they can dramatically fail and betray Wei Wuxian by cutting him off financially--defaulting on his college tuition or formally disowning him etc--isn't just that people want to translate the Burial Mounds II arc into modern terms while keeping Jiang Cheng clean of it.

(Despite the fact that the internal logic of Jiang Cheng's character is largely built around him being a person who would abandon someone he intensely cared about under these specific circumstances.)

It's because it's hard to set up a modern analogue for the way that Jiang Cheng is responsible for Wei Wuxian, as his Sect Leader.

We live in a highly individualistic society. People are trying to write Wei Wuxian Tragically Wronged, and because there's a normative expectation that people in the position of parents will provide you with resources, and certainly won't withdraw them without warning, but no such assumption that people in the position of siblings necessarily owe each other support, making this work in modern setting with Jiang Cheng in his canon role would require a lot of extra work, just to get a less readily resonant result.

But I keep thinking about it. Because something that's getting lost here is, not just the nuances of character and relationship, but like...it's sort of key to the story that cutting Wei Wuxian off was, in fact, Completely Socially Appropriate.

The level on which it was a betrayal is subtle, and deeply cutting. And intensely tied up in the very different opinions each of Jiang Cheng's parents had about what obligations existed in their family wrt Wei Wuxian, and what these meant.

The level on which it was the obvious, normal course of action is blatant. That is to a huge extent why it happens: because Jiang Cheng's instinct to conform is a survival instinct, reinforced by trauma, and Wei Wuxian's choices meant he had no coherently compelling reason not to obey it, and enormous peer pressure to do so.

The fact is that Jiang Cheng was making a reasonable choice, the actual thing 'anyone would do in that situation,' unlike Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao's respective wildly warped ideas about what that is.

Wei Wuxian wasn't betrayed by Jiang Sect like your foster parents cutting you off because you're disobedient. Wei Wuxian was betrayed by Jiang Sect like your brother refusing to drop fifty grand to bail you out of jail.

Of course Wei Wuxian tells him not to. And of course the fact that Jiang Cheng already chose in the moment not to pay a cent because Fuck You Wei Ying still stands there glaring, a precedent that can never be taken back.

And then later he's betrayed by Jiang Cheng like your brother cooperating with a police investigation into a manslaughter you really did commit, that's being handled like domestic terrorism. And then like your brother calling the cops on you. And then like your brother helping the cops find where you're hiding.

I'm personally fascinated by the way Jiang Cheng's lifelong resentment for the way Jiang Fengmian reliably bailed Wei Wuxian out of everything informed those decisions to do the normal thing, the way he's reacting against his dead father as well as against Wei Wuxian and the actual situation.

But even without that daddy issues angle, the fact that the person who made that choice was Jiang Cheng, and that it was simultaneously the reasonable appropriate normal upstanding citizen rational thing to do and so shitty Wei Wuxian would be entitled never to forgive it is sort of. The Point.

Of the scenario, and also to a considerable degree of the entire finely tuned narrative construct that is Jiang Cheng.

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

Mo Dao Zu Shi and Self-Yearning For Reconciliation

There is an overarching lesson within the writing of MXTX that forgiveness and moving on doesn't entail non-verbal consent for a relationship to be salvaged once more or reclaimed as it used to be.

Within SVSSS, we are given the character of Yue Qingyuan desperately seeking the friendship and brotherhood he had with Shen Jiu. Only for that relationship to be provided by another way of Shen Yuan who finalizes he is not the man Yue Qingyuan needed closure from, but is the only one able to give it for the man to find peace with his own choices.

To a lesser extent this is also shown with the relationship between Xie Lian, Mu Qing and Feng Xin at the end of TGCF. This time though, despite Xie Lian associating with them with no ill will, he does not let either man make choices for him and resoundingly makes his own boundaries aware within the reclamation of their friendship.

MDZS does not offer this reclamation of a friendship or the start of one previously lost with another. Unlike the previous two who did yearn for friendship what was between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian had been a stipulation of burden and assumption that started with Jiang Fengmian. Jiang Cheng was to see Wei Wuxian as a servant made friend when brought in, and Wei Wuxian was protector over friend. There was already a set imbalance due to neither naturally being able to choose the roles within their lives for the other and extending parties stating who and what they were to each other.

Jiang Cheng in his already tenuous esteem with himself and resentment of being told he was already viewed as less from his mother, took Wei Wuxian's existence in his life as a displacement of his own claims within life. His sacrifice of his dogs was the precursor for the beginning of their relationship on the allusion of debts between them.

Jiang Cheng gives up the loyalty of a literal pet, for the loyalty of an eventual man. In other words, I will shelter and protect you in exchange. Jiang Cheng does keep to this as children, with the expense of mocking Wei Wuxian's fears as he is want. His stipulations for this begun to escalate over the years and as such the giving of shelter and safety cannot be made up for Jiang Cheng, forever loyalty is now not enough, but why must Wei Wuxian also be adept at cultivation, why is he to be praised for his deeds more so, why must Wei Wuxian be a bright mind of the war.

If he is to be that, it at least would be overshadowed that he is still only under Jiang Cheng's rule. Otherwise every other action against this, is to demean Jiang Cheng, to oppose him, to cause trouble with ingratitude. It is also why, despite Wen Qing and Wen Ning having sheltered him and Wei Wuxian as well as collected his parents and provided their ashes, Jiang Cheng is able to disregard his obligation to help them. If not for Wei Wuxian's supposed insubordination, Jiang Cheng would not have suffered his own losses. Even when he did protect Wei Wuxian, the loss of it was too much, as with the dogs he had given up as a child, he did not get an active said promise of more dedication made up tenfold for the minimum kindness exhibited by Jiang Cheng. As said by Fang Mengcheng, "Atonement? You cannot actually be feeling grateful to him!”

To want to be good and to protect others, must come with selfish want for exemption of guilt for the harm you have caused. Wen Ning and Wen Qing owed it to Jiang Cheng for the deaths of his parents for carrying the surname of Wen, as such he did not need to repay them. Wei Wuxian sat at the table of the Jiangs and was given a living others would envy, as such he owed his life to Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian taking on the burden of protecter of another, was a betrayal of all that Jiang Cheng's lineage had gave him. To do the impossible because it is right, is not worth the self emulation and ridicule of the many. And while he may resent that kindness in Wei Wuxian, for it to be given to others as well, is a lack of loyalty of the ideals of Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng's growing resentment of Wei Wuxian's choice of kindness over safety, is a a mirrored resentment that Jiang Cheng holds within himself and his lack of respect for his own Clan ideals. A servant under the lord of the house embodies what Jiang Cheng was born to be.

As he throws abuse upon Wei Wuxian at their penultimate clash, while he does say sorry, he is still unable to view it without the veil of debt owed between each other. As Wei Wuxian could not tell him he gave him his core out of pity for his ego to keep him from shattering, Jiang Cheng could not say he protected Wei Wuxian out of a moment of kindness without care for the consequences until it expounded as his reality.

There is a self soothing mechanism, that opening up to truths will eventually mean a mending of what had been, or the beginning of something better. Yet this is only true when both are open to stand together as equals. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng began with obligation and ended with obligation. The obligation to give for doing, the obligation of sorry for redemption.The obligation of servitude for sacrifice.

To rebuild and start again is meant to be the closure of ill will and the understanding of boundaries that cannot be crossed now. Jiang Cheng can only do one but not the other. He chooses hate for his continued nature, even while he is adamantly protecting Jin Ling by the end. While Wei Wuxian knows that resentment is not something that will create true happiness and nurturing growth that people strive for.

Reconciliation is to come to terms with that which you lacked, and to be more, to be better. Jiang Cheng accepts his core nature of resentment which would not last next to the altruism that Wei Wuxian chooses more than once. Kindness and Resentment cannot coexist at the same time. To resent is to be cruel, to be happy is to be kind. Both men are too tired to understand the other, and why they choose to part as a peace offering, an understanding that they will never thrive with the other.

[franniebanana]

CQL Rewatch - Episode 4

Okay, it’s been a hot minute since I was able to get to watching this episode, but here we go!

Great intro. Remember last time how Lan Wangji got to pick Wei Wuxian’s punishment? Well, it seems that Wei Wuxian was up late into the night working on transcribing and, surprise! he’s not done. And unless I’m mistaken, he’s actually spent days doing this, because when they first arrived, the salute ceremony was ten days away, and here we see Wei Wuxian is almost late for it. So by this point, I’d expect Wei Wuxian to have some serious hand cramps from all that calligraphy.

While I enjoy this comical moment and introduction to Nie Huaisang, I have to wonder why he thought bringing a bird into the salute ceremony was a good idea. Birds make noise—they tweet, flap their wings, try to escape cages! Anyway, it’s a goofy moment, but we got some cute expressions out of Xiao Zhan and some disdainful looks from Wang Yibo, so I can’t complain.

Xiao Zhan does a really good job of looking very young here at the beginning: his mannerisms, his facial expressions, how he carries himself, all really creates this feeling of being young and carefree. On the other side, Wang Yibo (who is six years younger than Xiao Zhan) does an equally good job of portraying someone more severe, mature, elitist. Lan Wangji has a reputation for being above people—for creating an aura that implies other people aren’t worth his time. In fact, he doesn’t even have any friends, as we found out in the last episode.

Wangxian really suit each other, even before they know each other at all: Wei Wuxian has this light, carefree nature to his character, while Lan Wangji’s is darker, more austere.

First of all, those fuckers. Gossiping about his lineage in full earshot of not only Jin Guangyao but also Jin Zixuan. This poor guy has practically clawed his way up to where he is, only to be an attendant to a clan that he has no blood relation to. His own father refuses to acknowledge him, his mother is gone, and these jerks gossiping—ugh! Hate it, regardless of who he grows to be later on in the series.

I really love Jin Guangyao and seeing how he changes from beginning to end is honestly a delight to watch. Like most of the characters, he seems so pure, so simple, such a kind person, and his relationship with Lan Xichen is something that you can’t devote enough time to. I think it gets shortchanged a little, but they only had 50 episodes, so I’ll take what I can get. Even in the book, I was left wanting to know more and see more about them (but I wouldn’t trade my wangxian content for that, so I guess I shouldn’t complain).

Last thing I want to say is, DIMPLES! Look at those adorable dimples!!

This is so insane—he literally set this guy on fire! How can he get away with this?! Anyway, enter Draco Malfoy—I mean, Wen Chao. Ahem. This series wants to throw a lot of villains at you right away: we already have Wen Ruohan, Xue Yang, potentially Wen Qing (we don’t know at this point), and now we have Wen Chao. They’re really pushing the Wen Clan is bad agenda. And as if being generally rude and probably mentally unstable isn’t bad enough, Wen Chao literally sets fire to one of the Gusu Lan Clan disciples, while the other disciple basically does nothing about it (why is that guy so useless? Doesn’t he have some spiritual energy to throw at that magic fire?).

Wen Chao is one of those characters that I think most people love to hate. He’s so evil, so horrible, yet charming, in a way. He is a villain and he’s proud of it, y’know? There’s no ambiguity here about his actions, which is kind of refreshing in a series filled with grey characters (and I love grey characters, don’t get me wrong).

Oh! And I just noticed while I was saving that screenshot that Wen Ning can’t even look at what’s going on. Very accurate to his character—non-confrontational, just wants to float along and do as he’s told. Really shows he’s under the thumb of the Wen Clan. I also like how Wen Qing is the one to put out the flames. You get to see that healer side of her early on.

Jiang Cheng and I had the same expression here—I really wanted to know what their gift to Lan Qiren was. If this is something in the book, well, then I’ve forgotten. Wei Wuxian and I have that trait in common: bad memory.

LWJ: Bro, can I hit him?

LXH: Nah, bro.

I missed this on my first viewing—or just forgot, most likely. Lan Wangji is so poised and collected, but also so defensive. He’s the brother who will be the first to go on the offensive if he sees something wrong happening, which I love. But I also love Lan Xichen’s chill attitude—yes, this guy is clearly a troublemaker, and he’s dissing our clan, but let’s settle this in an adult manner. According to the wiki, Lan Xichen is only a few years older than Lan Wangji, but you can see that he is a lot more mature in just those few years. Like I said in the last episode, he kind of had to be a parent to his younger brother and set an example of how you should behave. Of course, he’s also the clan leader, so he can’t really act like a spitfire.

Of course, if anyone is more defensive than Lan Wangji, it’s Wei Wuxian. Even though Lan Wangji has been a bit of a pain in the ass to him, Wei Wuxian still rushes to their defense. Even this early on, he’s started to form an attachment to the Gusu Lan Clan, whether he’s really aware of it or not. I’m wearing my wangxian goggles, but the “you offended the Jiang Clan because my brother was in the middle of his salute” kind of feels like an afterthought.

But of course it’s in Wei Wuxian’s character to be heroic like this—to rush to the defense of others, whether it’s asked for or not, and I don’t get the feeling that Lan Wangji disapproves of this. I think he takes note of this and future events, adding it to what he’s compiled of what makes Wei Wuxian tick. And by this time, I think he’s also decided to give Wei Wuxian another chance—Lan Xichen has planted the seed in his mind that he could be a good friend to Lan Wangji.

I know he’s not supposed to be gay.

I know.

But…come on. The way he’s looking at Lan Xichen right now—it’s a look certainly of deep admiration and respect. And there’s not a hint of jealously either, even though Jin Guangyao has every reason to be jealous of Lan Xichen: the respect he commands is great—he can even subdue the Wen Clan. But instead of hating Lan Xichen, Jin Guangyao instead becomes close friends with him, very much a parallel to Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian. Fascinating! These characters are so rich—so many layers, so much to talk about!

The first time I watched this, I was so annoyed with Nie Huaisang—any additional scenes that were added just drove me crazy. But now, having watched it all, I actually really appreciate these moments of comic relief, even the ones that are unique to CQL. As the series progresses, it gets darker and darker, and these lighter moments are honestly precious when you know what’s coming.

Someone explain to me why Jiang Yanli is making soup when meals are being provided to them? Yes, we know she takes care of her brothers, but why is it always her making soup? This is the first of many soup scenes, and at a certain point, it’s like beating a dead horse. I actually would have appreciated a little scene of them eating Gusu Lan Clan food and getting to see Wei Wuxian complain about it. I wouldn’t mind a disapproving look from Lan Wangji at overhearing it either.

Yeah, remember when I was saying Lan Wangji was taking note of the good things Wei Wuxian did? Well, he’s also very aware of how naughty he is. At the beginning, Wei Wuxian’s good traits are heavily outweighed by his transgressions, though, by comparison, they are minor ones. It’s ironic that later on Lan Wangji will overlook major transgressions without a second thought. Shows what a deep relationship they are able to cultivate.

I feel like, in a way, this is Wei Wuxian’s way of apologizing for offending him earlier—like, I’m being cute, Lan Zhan! Obviously it only makes Lan Wangji more annoyed, but it’s the thought that counts, right? Wei Wuxian is really testing boundaries here. He has such a fixation on Lan Wangji, one that definitely annoys Jiang Cheng (and makes him jealous to boot, in my opinion), but it works to his advantage, since Lan Wangji can’t really keep his eyes off of Wei Wuxian either. And the circumstances that follow just keep drawing them together.

After Wei Ying gets told to leave the lecture and go to the Library Pavilion, he doesn’t look at anyone except Lan Wangji. I wonder if he wants to know Lan Wangji’s reaction—is it disappointment, anger, something else? Whatever it is, he wants Lan Wangji’s attention—that’s what he seeks above anything else. You could argue that he doesn’t look at Jiang Cheng or Jiang Yanli because he knows they’re disappointed or upset with him, and I think that’s fair. And maybe he doesn’t seek their attention because he knows he has it—but he doesn’t feel like he’s gotten Lan Wangji’s attention here and that bothers him.

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 |

[imaginaryelle]

Fic: Near Misses and Almost Kisses

AKA Five (plus one) Times Wangxian Could Have Kissed and Totally Fucking Did: A Retelling of CQL Through Missing Scene Kisses

Many thanks to @theflowergirl​ for initially prompting this fic ages and ages ago (pre-covid. wow.) and also to @morphia-writes​ for cheerleading and beta work while I struggled to get back into writing this past month. <3!

(this is ~6k and also available as a chaptered fic on AO3. Link coming soon)

*

[One: Gusu]

Lan Wangji was not looking for company on this journey, and he especially wasn’t looking for the loud, insistent and impossible-to-ignore company of Wei Ying of Yunmeng-Jiang. There have been enough rules broken, enough disruptions to the orderly patterns of his days and thoughts. Finding the other Yin Iron shards is a time-sensitive task with no room for flighty delays. He had, in fact, been looking forward to having some time to clear his head. Time to meditate, and reflect, and maybe dull down the memory of Wei Ying’s earnest, sincere promise, burning brighter in his mind than their Qixi lantern ever glowed against the sky. Time to wrap and re-wrap his sleeves, and maybe forget the winding, binding pull of his forehead ribbon around his wrist and the brush of Wei Ying’s knuckles against the back of his hand.

But instead Wei Ying is here. Talking. Loudly. Incessantly. Chattering about Yunmeng, and all the ways to eat lotus, and the best techniques to use when fighting water ghouls or a possessed alligator. Standing close enough that their elbows keep brushing. Jostling his shoulder and grinning at him like they’re sharing a joke and calling him Lan Zhan, like no one else in the world.

It should be annoying. Enraging that someone would so simply and carelessly step over so many boundaries.

Sometimes it is.

Sometimes it’s … not.

Lan Wangji does not tell him to leave. Not at the pier, not on the boat through the long, foggy afternoon. Not in the dwindling twilight as they make camp: clear the ground, set a ward, nurse a small cookfire. Not as they eat a simple meal of sesame qi zi rolls and tea and the loquats Wei Ying brought with him.

And after, still Wei Ying stays close, never more than three steps away, and sits even closer. Close enough that their knees just don’t quite touch. But instead of introducing some game, or talking more, he sighs, and closes his eyes, and … meditates.

One day, perhaps, he will run out of ways to surprise Lan Wangji. For now, they pass a quiet, peaceful stretch of time without any more pressing interruptions than the call of a hawk overhead and the rustle of small creatures moving through the underbrush.

Even after that, when Wei Ying starts moving again—rustling cloth and soft footsteps—he doesn’t speak. It’s unexpectedly thoughtful, as if he’s doing his best not to disturb Lan Wangji’s own meditations. Then come the familiar sounds and smells of ink grinding against stone, and the soft crinkle of paper. After a while Wei Ying starts humming, low and under his breath. 

Lan Wangji opens his eyes to find Wei Ying backlit by the smoldering fire, a brush in his hand and his focus entirely on the strip of paper before him. To his left is a line of paper strips, fresh ink shining on each one. Talismans, Lan Wangji realizes. Each imbued with a touch of power. It’s not an invocation he’s seen before. He tries to get a better look, and Wei Ying looks up at him.

“Want to see?” he asks, grinning. Lan Wangji draws back, but Wei Ying picks up the driest of the talismans and holds it out to him for examination.

Scattered bursts of power, shaped and directed outward from the caster. A touch of fire. Enough intent and energy to damage a ward, distract a spirit, or leave minor burns on an enemy. He’s trying to make out the shape itself when Wei Ying draws the paper back and flicks it into the air.

Bright, fiery butterflies ascend into the space above their heads, trailing orange sparks until they wink out like distant stars.

“You can have one, if you like.” Lan Wangji slowly returns his gaze to his companion. “I know your sword work is very good,” Wei Ying is saying, “but everyone can use a bit of surprise on their side, right?”

Lan Wangji’s fingers itch. He’s never seen anyone use talismans the way Wei Ying does, and he does want to study this one further. And yet. “There’s no need,” he says.

“Even so.” Wei Ying smiles. He sorts through his papers, picking out two. “These are for you.” He holds them out for a moment, then sighs when Lan Wangji makes no move to take them. “Lan Zhan,” he says, “Are you one of those cultivators who thinks talismans are just toys for those with low spiritual power? Little party tricks for those not able to work a seal directly?”

Denial sticks in his throat. He has heard others voice such thoughts, and “toys” certainly describes how Wei Ying uses them, but it’s not a fair judgment to speak aloud.

“Why butterflies?” he asks instead.

“I like butterflies.” Wei Ying’s expression twists, perhaps wistful. “We have lots of them in Yunmeng.” This does not seem to require a response, but Lan Wangji must be missing something, because Wei Ying sighs and pulls the talismans back. “Do you not trust my gifts anymore? How about a trade then? I give you some talismans, and you give me something you think is a fair trade. Better?”

He looks—annoyed, but somehow Lan Wangji still feels like he’s being teased in some way; there’s some joke he’s not getting as Wei Ying sits just a handspan away, limned in firelight and offering him butterflies with an expectant expression and Lan Wangji wants—

It’s not a good kiss, Lan Wangji is certain, and it’s not really anything like the impulsive thoughts that have littered his waking hours over the last few days, but the touch of Wei Ying’s lips still steals the breath from his lungs and narrows his focus in a way meditation and sword forms never have. Wei Ying is softness and warmth and, for a moment, the orbital center of the Heavens, as far as Lan Wangji is concerned.

He leans back, his heart beating as fast as dragonfly wings. Wei Ying stares at him with wide, dark eyes.

“That was …” his hand rises, and he touches his fingertips to his lips. “That was my first kiss.”

Lan Wangji’s pulse thrums faster at that, if that’s possible. He’d been certain, certain that someone as brash and forward as Wei Ying would have been kissed before now.

“Mine also,” he admits, and the surprise in Wei Ying’s eyes would be comical if Lan Wangji had not so obviously spent his entire life distanced from his peers, if he had not so clearly displayed his disinterest in most companionship. He thinks Wei Ying must be making fun of him again, that perhaps he lied to elicit this confession and—

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying protests, “My talismans aren’t worth your first kiss!”

Lan Wangji had forgotten about the talismans. They are not currently carrying any prominence in his thoughts.

“It was Wei Ying’s first kiss also,” he returns, daring him to deny it and reveal the ruse.

But he doesn’t. He just sort of stares for long enough that Lan Wangji looks away, shame rising in his throat. He had hoped—it doesn’t matter what he hoped. The kiss was obviously a misstep, and now he has achieved the dual consequences of pushing Wei Ying away while revealing his own weakness. Perhaps he should leave in the morning, before Wei Ying wakes. Perhaps by the time they see each other again this will be forgotten, or at least—at least—

“A second kiss,” Wei Ying says, sudden and much louder than necessary. Lan Wangji looks back at him and waits, hardening himself against further disappointments.

“Two first kisses is an even trade, right?” Wei Ying says. He’s wearing the same sort of eager, coaxing expression he’d had in the library, trying to explain once again how he couldn’t possibly be at fault for climbing over Cloud Recesses’ walls after curfew and drinking alcohol in front of the Wall of Discipline. “Your first kiss for my first kiss. But a second kiss could be… hm.” he frowns. “No this is...” He turns away, rummaging through his papers for a moment and then holds them out triumphantly—six of them. “Six talismans,” Wei Ying says, grinning, “for your second kiss?”

Lan Wangji looks from the talismans to his face, to his lips. Even with shame burning in his center it had felt—it had been—He should have more self-restraint than this. He has more self-restraint than this, with everyone, it seems, except Wei Ying.

He nods, hardly daring to breathe, and Wei Ying scoots closer on his knees. This time, Lan Wangji stays where he is and Wei Ying touches his face with careful fingertips, his expression hardly visible with his body blocking most of the firelight, and then he bends slightly and their lips touch. It is a slow, gentle kiss, more mixing of breath than lips, and the longer it goes on the more Lan Wangji’s fear that this will turn into a new opportunity at provocation melts away. He lifts his own hand to Wei Ying’s jaw and opens his mouth, and lets himself concentrate on only this: warm breath, and softly brushing lips, and the rush of Wei Ying’s heartbeat at his fingertips.

[Two: Qinghe]

By the time they make it to Qinghe, Lan Wangji has retreated so far into stoic silence that Wei Wuxian is a little surprised he’s not leaving a trail of frost wherever he goes. He looks cold enough for it. Frosty and aloof and unapproachable as a distant mountain, with glares so icy they could burn. Nothing like as soft and warm and close as he’d been when it was just the two of them traveling together, before Nie Huaisang joined them in Tanzhou, before Jiang Cheng found them on Dafan Mountain, before they met Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen and volunteered to haul Xue Yang all the way to the Unclean Realm for judgement. He’s barely spoken to anyone other than Nie Mingjue, the last few days. Barely looked at Wei Wuxian at all since they left the Chang Clan’s former residence. 

There had been a moment, watching Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen walk away together, when Wei Wuxian’s old memories of his mother had slipped from his thoughts to make way for new memories—the brush of Lan Wangji’s fingers against his cheek, the touch of their lips meeting in the night and the thud of his own pulse threatening to overwhelm him.

He doesn’t know for sure that Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen have that, but sometimes he remembers those two figures walking together, one in black and one in white, and want is so heavy in his lungs it turns bitter in his mouth.

But that’s when the silence started, he thinks. Lan Wangji hadn’t said a single word to him all that long afternoon.

The point is, he’s pretty much resigned himself to never getting to kiss Lan Wangji again, because Lan Wangji has clearly remembered that he dislikes Wei Wuxian and also everyone else Wei Wuxian associates with and the concept of fun, in general. But Wei Wuxian is not giving up. He said they were going to be friends and so they’re going to be friends; Lan Wangji is too interesting a person to not be friends with, at a minimum. He’ll just have to work harder at it, and bide his time, and he’s sure Lan Wangji will come around. They could be the best of friends, and then maybe Wei Wuxian could bring it up—hey, remember that time you kissed me?—and if it goes poorly he can laugh it off. What a funny thing, why don’t more people know that you’re funny, Lan Zhan?

It’s a plan, anyway. A plan that gets entirely shattered to pieces when Lan Wangji steps out of his guest quarters, and looks at Wei Wuxian lying on the roof and babbling some nonsense about relative roof tile comfort, and jumps up to join him.

For a single breathless moment Wei Wuxian thinks Lan Wangji might draw his sword. That he’s pushed too far, this is it, all potential positive feelings towards himself have been erased in Lan Wangji’s mind, but no. No, instead Lan Wangji just sits next to him, inside the stretched curve of Wei Wuxian’s frame. Close enough to touch.

Everyone else is asleep. Wei Wuxian knows it, because it’s the entire reason he’s outside, drinking alone, instead of inside with jovial company and more wine.

Well. Not so alone, now.

Lan Wangji glows in the starlight, pale and luminous as anything gracing the heavens.

You look like the moon, Wei Wuxian wants to say, come drink with me, follow me, dance with me, but he doesn’t say that. That would be—too much, he thinks.

“Wei Ying,” says Lan Wangji.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says back. The ice is melting from Lan Wangji’s posture, slipping away until the space between them feels warm. Charged like lightning.

“I will return to Gusu,” Lan Wangji says, and Wei Wuxian nods, his hand gripped tight around his bottle of wine.

“To help your brother,” he confirms. He raises the bottle and drinks, and wonders if he’s imagining the way Lan Wangji’s gaze follows the motion to linger on his mouth. He swallows. “I suppose we all have to go home eventually.”

“Mn.”

Lan Wangji is still watching him. He’s tempted to sit up. To reach out and tug on those pale robes and draw Lan Wangji even closer.

He sets the wine aside. Meets Lan Wangji’s gaze.

“Do you want—” he can’t finish the question. Lan Wangji moves fluidly, even now, far from any battle they might fight. He is so close now that Wei Wuxian can see nothing else but his eyes, his face, his mouth. His fingers curl around Wei Wuxian’s wrist, and Wei Wuxian leans into him, into the kiss that he’d thought he wouldn’t be getting.

This one is different. Deeper. Longer. Lan Wangji’s grip on his wrist is tight, his fingers on Wei Wuxian’s jaw firm and steady. Something golden and liquid is happening to Wei Wuxian’s spine as Lan Wangji’s tongue slips past his lips and it doesn’t have anything to do with the wine. He can’t stop the sound he makes, too genuine to be laughed away.

Lan Wangji draws back, draws his tongue back and his lips back and his hands back, and Wei Wuxian only barely catches himself from slipping flat onto the roof tiles.

“Lan Zhan …” Words slip away from him. All he wants is more touch. His body feels molten, edges disappearing from his awareness.

Lan Wangji’s lips are pink. He’s flushing to his ears. His hands are in his lap, curled into tight fists.

There’s something Wei Wuxian’s forgetting. Oh.

“I don’t have anything to give you this time,” he says. Lan Wangji won’t want whatever remains of his wine and this—for this kiss—he doesn’t know what he could possibly give in exchange.

Lan Wangji blinks, a hint of confusion in his face. Then it clears.

“Promise you will not be reckless,” he says, and Wei Wuxian huffs an incredulous laugh.

“I’m not reckless,” he protests, sitting up properly as if that will better support his point. “Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji simply looks at him. He’s looking less kissed with every second, which is a true shame.

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian allows. “I promise to not be reckless. But.” He leans across the small distance between them and presses another kiss to Lan Wangji’s lips. It’s longer than he means it to be, and when he pulls back his voice sounds strained and breathless in his own ears.

“You promise me too,” he says, half-whispered. “You don’t be reckless either.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees, and there’s an actual smile drawn at the corners of his eyes. “I promise.”

[Three: Dusk Creek Mountain]

Lan Wangji has faced endurance trials before. Lan cultivation training is full to brimming with them, and where before he knew that such trials would bring him strength, and patience, and clarity in adverse circumstances, he is now deeply, terribly grateful for them.

If he must endure the uncertainty that clouds his brother’s fate, the danger that still clings to his uncle and his entire clan and sect, the open derision of the Wens and the pall of pain and death that haunts every step he takes on a broken leg—at least he has trained to do so, every day of his life. At least he has years of practice to keep him standing straight and tall and unbending, here in this place that smells of sulphur and smoke and stinks of power so tainted and warped that his skin crawls with it.

He has little such practice in enduring Wei Ying’s probing inquiries. Enduring his careful glances and fidgeting hands and the worry in his voice as he says Lan Wangji’s name, over and over, half-whispered.

He knows something must show in his face when they take his sword, from the change in that voice. The next morning, when Wei Ying recites the Lan rules instead of the Wen proverbs, he dearly wishes he could slip back in time, weeks ago, and kiss Wei Ying again, and again, as if, if he never left that rooftop in Qinghe, none of this would have happened.

He can’t speak. No matter what Wei Ying asks, he can’t speak. If he opens his mouth everything will spill out at once. Everything—the Yin iron, and his uncle and brother and sect and the fires that consumed hundreds of years of Lan history as he was dragged from his home—he won’t be able to stop it. There might even be tears involved. He’s stretched too thin, likely to break like porcelain with sharp edges to cut the unwary.

Their closeness is noticed. He can’t stop Wen Chao throwing Wei Ying in a dungeon that afternoon. The fears that haunt him until the next morning are not much soothed by the blood on Wei Ying’s robes when he returns, no matter how he smiles and chatters.

It can’t go on. He won’t bear it. Lan Wangji’s rebellions are small, and thus insignificant to Wen Chao, but they are still victories in self-restraint. He does not speak, and so no one will hear the fear and anger in his voice. He does not read the Wen Precepts, and so no one can ever say that he would replace the Lan’s, no matter what other claims the Wen make. He walks unaided, and so there will be no favors left unpaid. Even Wei Ying’s offer of help he pushes away. Better to cut such things off now, than to draw disaster down on him again.

Wei Ying walks by his side regardless. Brings him water. Stays in the terrible cave Wen Chao sealed them in, when escape is well within his reach.

Touches his forehead ribbon, entirely ignorant of its meaning. Tends his wounds.

He can’t keep his silence any longer. Wei Ying is injured, and in pain, and never thinks of himself first. He needs taking care of, too. They are alone. If he breaks now only Wei Ying will see, and Wei Ying will never tell.

“You promised to not be reckless,” Lan Wangji says when the medicine is used up.

“I’m not reckless,” Wei Ying insists, shaking out his overrobe near their tiny fire so it will dry faster. “Lan Zhan,” he pouts, then winces as the brand on his chest pains him again. “When was I reckless?”

“Drawing attention,” Lan Wangji tells him. “Reciting the Lan Precepts. Insulting Wen Chao.” He gestures at Wei Ying’s wound. “Taking an attack meant for another without deflection.”

“That’s not recklessness, that’s righteousness,” Wei Ying asserts. He grins. “I would have thought that Lan Clan would know the difference. And besides, Lan Zhan, you promised me, too, and I saw you step in front of Mianmian. If I was reckless so were you.”

Lan Wangji looks away.

“She’s pretty,” Wei Ying says. There’s a questioning edge to the words that sends cold plummeting through Lan Wangji’s gut. Wei Ying just looks at him, all earnestness in his eyes. “Don’t you think she’s pretty, Lan Zhan?”

He hadn’t noticed, really. She was protective of her sect’s heir, and decently eloquent. Perhaps too free with gossip, as it had been her question that eventually sparked Wei Ying and Jin Zixuan’s fight at Cloud Recesses, months and months ago now.

“She did not deserve to be killed for bait,” he says.

“Or branded either,” Wei Ying is saying. “It’d be a shame, a pretty girl like that with a scar on her face for the rest of her life.”

Lan Wangji stares at him. At the smile he is somehow still wearing. The cold reaches into Lan Wangji’s lungs. His ribs. The fire brings him no warmth.

“It is not better for you to carry the scar instead,” he points out.

“But it’s not on my face,” Wei Ying counters. “Besides, it’s different for men. A man should get a few scars in his life, anyway.”

It is possibly the stupidest thing Lan Wangji has ever heard him say. If this is among the teachings of the Yunmeng-Jiang Sect, he thinks it might go some way towards explaining Jiang Wanyin. But Wei Ying is still talking.

“Even if I do have to carry it forever, it marks that I once protected a girl who will never forget me her whole life! That’s sort of beautiful, don’t you think?”

Lan Wangji has no idea what’s supposed to be beautiful about it. He feels a bit like the ground has slipped out from underneath his feet, the foundation he built himself on crumbling on all sides and now a handhold he hadn’t realized he was gripping so tightly is also turning to sand beneath his fingers.

“So you know she’ll never forget you,” he says, the words like acid on his tongue, and Wei Ying startles.

“Why are you mad?” he asks, as if he cannot even guess. Lan Wangji stares at the fire and wishes he were anywhere else. Wishes he had never kissed Wei Ying even once. Even that first time.

“If you don’t mean it,” he says, forcing the words over his teeth as ice rises in his throat, “you shouldn’t flirt with anyone.”

“I—what—”

Wei Ying is silent for a long time. When Lan Wangji looks at him he’s frowning.

“Saving someone isn’t flirting,” he says finally. “And if it’s flirting with you you’re worried about you can just say so. I’ll stop if you say so.”

“Don’t,” Lan Wangji blurts, almost before the sentence is done. And Wei Ying … smiles. A real smile, that reaches his eyes and makes his whole face scrunch up a bit. A smile Lan Wangji hasn’t seen in weeks, that warms him like sunlight.

“Okay,” Wei Ying agrees. “I won’t then.” And then, because he is utterly shameless, he says, “I think my robe is dry now. Are you cold? You look cold, I could cover you with it,” and he leans close to do so without waiting for an answer.

Lan Wangji lets him. He’s too tired to move away, and he doesn’t really want to. He grabs Wei Ying’s wrist, caught between them, and tugs him closer.

“Wei Ying should be warm also,” he says to the questioning look that earns him, and Wei Ying smiles again and sighs. His body is a line of heat against Lan Wangji’s side.

“Alright Lan Zhan,” he says, and his voice is low and soft and close, intimate as a secret.

If he speaks again, Lan Wangji doesn’t hear it. Instead he wakes hours later to find that Wei Ying has returned his forehead ribbon to its rightful place, and explored the wretched pond in the bottom of this cave, and is once again drying himself out.

They are trapped. It will likely be days before they can be rescued. They could die of starvation first, or be killed when the Wens return.

Or they could die fighting.

For luck, Wei Ying says, his voice bright and dancing like butterflies through the telepathy spell. He cups his hand around the back of Lan Wangji’s neck and kisses him, a quick brush of heat, and then he steps away, towards the pond, and there are far more immediate things to think about.

The battle is one of the fiercest of Lan Wangji’s life, but it is clear, afterwards, that Wei Ying sacrificed more than Lan Wangji guessed he would to see the Xuanwu slain. He is clearly unwell, so unwell as to be bad at hiding it, cold and clammy as fever rises through his blood. His breath comes in gasps, his speech slowed and confused.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, through teeth stained with blood, “I didn’t really think I would survive this.”

“You must,” Lan Wangji tells him. He begins passing spiritual energy into Wei Ying’s wrist, everything he can spare. Some he probably can’t. But anything Wei Ying needs, he will give. Spiritual energy. Physical warmth.

A song, though this is far from his idle daydreams of its debut.

They cannot last long like this. Wei Ying slips into dreams from which he can’t be woken, and Lan Wangji draws him close and cradles him carefully as exhaustion settles into his own bones and sinew.

He kisses Wei Ying’s forehead, salt sweat stinging at his dry, cracked lips.

“You must live,” he rasps, his voice all but gone now. “Promise me you’ll live, Wei Ying.”

[Four: Qishan]

Many things are different, after Wen Chao throws Wei Wuxian into the Mass Graves. Most things. The whole course of his life, taking a turn onto a new path. And really, Wei Wuxian is fine with that. He is. He still has Shijie and Jiang Cheng and he’s still friends with Nie Huaisang, even if he has to keep them all a bit more distant than before and even if they can tell something’s wrong, and he has food and a bed with an actual mattress, and even power. Power no one else can claim.

That power makes up for a lot of things, and it and Jiang Cheng’s barely-there smile and continued efforts at rebuilding the Yunmeng-Jiang Sect leave him with no regrets whatsoever, though he was pretty sure he’d had no regrets before, anyway.

Well. Only one regret.

Lan Wangji is avoiding him.

Okay, no, that’s not true. Not anymore, anyway. The weeks-stretching-to-months of the Sunshot Campaign were a particular kind of torture that Wei Wuxian knows he can only blame himself for, but now … now, Lan Wangji wants to help him, and is spending a great deal of time at his guqin. On the other side of the room. Telling Wei Wuxian to “be quiet” and “concentrate” as if that was going to help anything.

His face when he’d come in—Wei Wuxian couldn’t look at him, could hardly stand to sit on the bed with his hands under his thighs and mouth clamped shut in the face of that—that—whatever emotion it was that made Lan Wangji’s eyes so soft, made his lips part and the tension in his shoulders drop so suddenly. And then Shijie had left them alone and—

Well. For a moment there Wei Wuxian expected he was going to be kissed. Lan Wangji had obviously been worried, and visiting often, and ….

But that didn’t happen. No kisses for Wei Wuxian, apparently. Not since the Xuanwu cave, and that barely counted. No kisses since he still had a golden core.

Just guqin music. And meditation.

He tries. He does. He can still benefit from meditation and he knows it, and Lan Wangj’s skill at the guqin is never unpleasant to listen to and so he tries.

For about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea. That picture of Lan Wangji’s face keeps painting itself on the back of his eyelids. He can’t sit still any longer. He stands.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, “I’m fine.”

Lan Wangji is not convinced. Every movement as he approaches shows it. He is stern and straight-backed and righteous.

“Three more days are needed,” he insists.

“Three days!” Wei Wuxian won’t survive three days of sitting on opposite sides of a room, meditating to music. He won’t. Although …

“Lan Zhan,” he pouts. Entirely for effect, despite the way it makes Lan Wangji go even stiffer and more righteous instead of softening in indulgence the way Shijie does. “Three days is so long. Aren’t you even going to offer me a kiss, asking for so much time?”

Lan Wangji’s entire demeanor changes. The soft eyes and parted lips are back, and his fingers curl in his sleeves. Wei Wuxian risks a step closer.

“One kiss?” he asks. Another step.

“A kiss per day? A kiss per hour?” He grins, close enough now to reach out and touch. Or be touched. 

“Lan Zhan,” he whispers, “Would you kiss me after every song you play? Or every minute? Every—”

Lan Wangji’s hands are on his face, his thumbs pressed against Wei Wuxian’s cheekbones and his fingers cupping Wei Wuxian’s ears. His mouth is hot, his tongue is hot, and in Wei Wuxian’s mouth, and it is taking a lot of effort for Wei Wuxian to stay on his feet. He thinks his knees might have melted, somehow. It would hardly be the strangest thing that’s ever happened to him and he doesn’t really care. Lan Wangji’s lips and tongue and breath are more than enough to fill the moment in its entirety.

When Lan Wangji pulls back, Wei Wuxian is holding onto his wrists. Nearly hanging from them. 

“Kiss me again,” he whispers. “Again, Lan Zhan.”

For a moment, Lan Wangji’s eyes are liquid with want and his mouth is soft and pink and so very close. And then he steps back, and lets go of Wei Wuxian’s face, and shakes Wei Wuxian’s grip from his sleeves.

“Meditation first,” he insists.

[Five: Yiling]

Every part of this meeting has been unsettling. Lan Wangji had passed through Yiling for several reasons—rumors of nearby disturbances, it is the largest town near to where his most recent night hunt ended, and the road to Gusu goes through it—but all of these lead to Wei Ying. Even crying children in the street lead to Wei Ying.

The golden swell of hope that was growing under his ribs during their shared meal has long since withdrawn, pulled back and away like the tide by the stark reality of Wei Ying’s circumstances. There will be no convincing him to leave these people now. He has done the impossible, in Wen Qionglin’s resurrection, and he is obviously fond of both Wen Qing and Wen Yuan, but the true issue is that any goals he has for this settlement, its people, or his own life’s path are being smothered by the very real absence of necessary protections, money, food, and medicine.

No tea for guests. No hope that he will see his sister’s wedding. Resentment on all sides, from the restless dead within the mountain and the determined gossips without.

Lan Wangji finds he cannot look at Wen Qionglin for any reasonable length of time. His presence is a prickly burr against the background fog of corruption the Mass Graves generate, at odds with his deferential bows and careful presentation of what poor hospitality this place can offer.

Lan Wangji does not drink the water. He thinks his stomach would not tolerate it, and he shies away from the thought. Water from the hands of a corpse, sourced, undoubtedly, from this land that has been poisoned with resentment for generations. No one should live here. It is only one of many things that should not happen, but is happening anyway.

Wen Qionglin and his sister do not linger long. There is little to say, and even basic formalities cannot be observed without the right supplies. They greet him, formally, with careful bows, and welcome him, and melt back and away, leaving him once again alone with Wei Ying in a cave that smells only slightly better than the one they killed the Xuanwu in.

He will ask once more. He must.

“Wei Ying—”

Further speech is impeded by Wei Ying’s lips on his, the kiss soft and beseeching. Need in the rigid press of Wei Ying’s fingers on Lan Wangji’s shoulders.

“Do me a favor, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying murmurs against his mouth, pressing more kisses to his skin like wet ink to paper, and Lan Wangji wants nothing more than to soak him in, draw him up and keep him.

Wei Ying presses their faces together, forehead to forehead, nose to nose.

“Don’t ask again,” he murmurs, and kisses the corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth, and steps away.

For a single, wild moment, Lan Wangji considers staying here. Staying with Wei Ying, and these fugitives he has thrown himself in with, and offering any aid he can: the small handful of coins he still carries, the strength of his arms and back, whatever healing his spiritual energy and music can offer.

The impulse slips away quickly. Wei Ying is clearly shepherding him away from the cave, away from the settlement. Beyond the gates. He keeps his movements perfectly contained. Distanced. Separate. Always a respectable space kept between them as they walk, even as he asks—can anyone give me a nice, favorable choice?—the strain of the question clear in his voice.

Even as he says thank you, for a visit Lan Wangji is almost certain has only brought him pain.

It’s Wen Yuan who interrupts them before Lan Wangji can sort out the words he wants. Wen Yuan who asks him to stay.

Wei Ying, who takes the child in his arms and tells him Lan Wangji must leave.

Lan Wangji looks at Wen Yuan’s tiny hand, held securely in Wei Ying’s careful grip. He watches Wei Ying’s face. There is resignation there, but determination, too.

There is nothing left to say.

Another set of hands is also another mouth to feed. He can be of more use to Wei Ying as he is now: separated by distance, but not intent. He is the son of a great sect, the brother of a sect leader, and he has reputation of his own to call on. Somehow, he will find a way to bring Wei Ying back into the world.

Someday, he’ll be back with better news.

[+1: The Jingshi]

Sixteen years.

Wei Wuxian would be tempted to write that number off as an elaborate joke if it weren’t for Jin Ling, so obviously grown up and full of pride. Cloud Recesses doesn’t show the passage of time, either from the time he’s been dead or the damage it suffered before that. He could almost believe, here in this room, that no time has passed at all. Here he is in Cloud Recesses, which looks and sounds and smells just the same as it always has in his memories of that summer before the war. Here he is, convalescing in bed, and there is Lan Wangji on the other side of the room at his guqin, just as they were after it.

There are still differences. He has never seen Lan Wangji this quietly at home in a place. So settled. So comfortable. His hair half-down should make him look younger, but Wei Wuxian can see his jaw is sharper now, his shoulders somehow broader, like he’s grown to fit his bones in a way that’s not quite physical. There are new lines in his face, faint as they are. Around his eyes, mostly. The touch of a life, extended.

His skill at the guqin has improved. Or perhaps it’s just that Wei Wuxian himself is a more appreciative audience now, here on the other side of confusion and tragedy and death. He’d like to think he’s learned something from the experience, even if he doesn’t really remember a lot of it.

He watches Lan Wangji’s fingers, over the strings. Watches his face, clear as a still pond.

“Lan Zhan,” he says. He swallows past the tightness in his throat. “Do you remember the last time you played for me?”

The hands still.

“Yes.” There is still something of that soft-eyed look in his eyes, even with the year, and the new lines. Something familiar in the tightening of his lips, an echo of the last kiss they shared.

Lan Wangji stands, and crosses the dark floorboards between them. He sits at the edge of the bed, quiet and composed and every inch the cultivator Wei Wuxian always knew he would be, too good to end anywhere else, too principled to let his steps go astray. The silence between them is warm, now. Knowing.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, trying for levity and ending somewhere far too low-voiced and genuine. “You’re too good to me. How will I thank you?”

Lan Wangi watches him, dark-eyed and intent. “A favor,” he says, and reaches up between them, presses his thumb to the corner of Wei Wuxian’s mouth. “A promise,” as the touch sweeps across Wei Wuxian’s lips.

Wei Wuxian swallows again. He doesn’t know what he might do, if he allows himself to move, so he doesn’t move at all.

Lan Wangji’s hand falls away. He folds his sleeve carefully to the side and raises his eyes once more.

“Stay,” he says, hardly even a whisper.

Wei Wuxian laughs. It spills out of him, surprise and joy and rushing thrill strumming through him.

“Of course!” He shifts closer, onto his knees, and takes Lan Wangji’s hand in both of his own. “Of course I’ll stay, Lan Zhan,” he says, and he seals the promise with a kiss.

[boxoftheskyking]

Something Good, Part Eight

In which the children learn some things

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

---

Wei Wuxian lights three lamps and spreads his discarded curtains on the wooden walkway outside the servants quarters. The cultivators at Cloud Recesses retire at nine, leaving a good three hours for servants to work in the main areas, cleaning and mending and tidying with no bothersome children or late meetings to interrupt them. It’s actually a little fun—the laundry yard is far enough from the sleeping quarters so they can be a bit loud, singing and laughing while they work. The servants try to sleep by midnight if they can in order to grab three or four hours to rest before fires need to be lit and breakfast started.

The Lan Clan rules have quite a lot to say about setting aside the proper number of hours to sleep. These rules don’t seem to apply to the servants. Wei Wuxian wonders sometimes who knows what actually goes into running a place like Cloud Recesses. Does Lan Xichen? Lan Qiren? Has Lan Wangji ever stayed up late and seen the flurry of work in his beloved library? But they are all such diligent students, they’d never stay up so late. Cultivators. So studious in topics of importance, so clueless about everything else.

Sometimes—though he tries to avoid it—he thinks about the servants back at Lotus Pier. Yunmeng has no such rules about sleeping and waking hours, and Wei Wuxian remembers many late nights entertaining guests, holding silly sword tournaments in the training yards after a few jugs of wine, even Jiang Fengmian holding discussions with other sect leaders that ran long into the morning. When had their servants cleaned, swept, repaired the things broken by careless bursts of spiritual energy? He’d always thought Madam Yu’s servants to be so cruel, extensions of her fury and rigidity. But maybe they were just tired.

In any event, he hasn’t slept a full night since he lost his golden core, so he doesn’t mind much. 

After a lot of thought, he’s decided that the children’s play clothes won’t be robes but rather a version of a laborer’s shirt and trousers. He’s only got one full set of clothes himself, but he’s picked apart the seams and laid out the pieces as a pattern. If he can figure out how to make children’s versions, then he’ll be able to stitch his own back together. If not, well, Madam Xiao likes him now. He can come up with some story to justify running up to her in just his sleeping robe. He’s kneeling in it now, bony knees sticking out at odd angles and night breeze raising gooseflesh on all his exposed skin.

He doesn’t think of warm hands on his neck as he bends to his work. He traces around each piece with charcoal before cutting them out. By the time the sky turns purply-grey with sunrise, he has a neat little stack of various sized patterns, each set rolled into a dusty blue cylinder. 

It takes another week and a half of spare hours during lessons and after dark to make a full set of clothes and another week to improvise adjustments to hems and inseams. He finds himself saved by the addition of drawstring belts, and while they hardly look tidy, he ends up with an army of midnight colored miscreants that he’s quite proud of. 

The little ones are the most delighted—only a few months or years out of shirts and trousers themselves. The older children are uncomfortable initially, so used to the many layers of robes and sashes that they’ve been wearing. Wei Wuxian asked Wen Ning whether he wanted a set of play clothes, as he’s practically an adult himself. Wen Ning’s deep bow and “It would be an honor to wear clothes made by Wei-qianbei” made Wei Wuxian blush and threaten to dump him over the waterfall.

He’s a bit disappointed that Lan Wangji leaves for an important council before he’s finished—he’d rather have liked to show off his new skills. But politics are politics, and the rumor among the servants is that he’s visiting with the family of his betrothed.

“But who is it?” Wei Wuxian whines at Madam Xiao as he helps her fold a set of bedsheets. “Surely if anyone knows it’s you.”

Madam clicks her tongue and takes a swipe at his head. “I don’t bother myself with the noble family trees. At my age you’ve seen so many cultivators come and go, so many weddings and funerals, it hardly pays to keep track of it all. Sure, won’t she need to eat and sleep and relieve herself just like the rest of them? We’ll all get to know her better than Young Master Lan himself does before too long.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, though there’s something inside him that flinches, like picking off a scab when you haven’t finished healing beneath.

With Lan Wangji gone, the juniors have fewer classes. Lan Xichen teaches a few here and there, which is surprisingly enjoyable to watch. Wei Wuxian can tell he doesn’t spend much time with children so young, and he finds his delighted smile and swallowed laughter somehow gratifying. It’s not right, and it’s dangerous to start thinking yes, these are my children. Aren’t they clever, aren’t they funny? My children. But his command over his own mind has always been tenuous at best.

The result of all this means that Wei Wuxian has many extra hours with the kids in their new play clothes. He’s taken a few day trips down to Caiyi town, not bothered by the impropriety of junior disciples running about in trousers. As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing shameful about being dressed like a farmer or a laborer. One day he found himself exhausted from hustling them all down the mountain, so he asked a few of his new friends in the Caiyi market if they’d mind taking on a few apprentices. The day turned into a highlight for the children—some learned to make delicately spiced pork dumplings, some wrapped sticky pastries for customers, some sanded down slats of wood for chair building, and some tried their hand at painting cleverly stitched kites. Su Meiling has declared she is going to be a carpenter when she grows up, and Wei Wuxian finds himself hoping that she will. 

He wonders if his new life would have been less jarring if he’d been allowed to learn more as a kid—to truly befriend the townsfolk of Yunmeng instead of drifting in and out as the benevolent gentry. On darker days he almost wishes Jiang Fengmian had never found him and that he’d grown up as he deserved on the streets of Yunping City. It hurts to imagine never knowing Jiang Yanli or Jiang Cheng, but if he’d never had that artificial sense of nobility, his fall from grace would have truly meant nothing. 

The walk from Cloud Recesses to town and back is unsupervised by anyone but him, so he takes the risk and teaches his charges little songs as they march. He makes up funny tunes about rabbits and sets his favorite Lan Sect rules to music. When the clothes are done he stays up at night figuring out rhymes for “silence” and “forbidden” and “floppy-ears.”

“Little, little rabbit, oh! Up the mountain you must go Grass is sweeter up the hill Salty seaweed makes you ill! Rabbits, rabbits, time to run Up the mountain one by one Quick, before the sunlight ends Run and run to meet your friends!”

After Lan Wangji has been away for a full week, Wei Wuxian gets a bit bolder. He’s had a number of days now running the children around the back hill, teaching songs and some basic hand-to-hand combat.

“But Wei-qianbei,” Ouyang Zizhen had said. “Once we are fully grown cultivators we will have swords. Why would we need to know how to fight without them?”

“Ah, Zizhen, but what if some clever demon takes your sword from you? What if you are cursed and your spiritual power is locked away? Don’t you want to be prepared, so you are not caught off guard? And after all, your Wei-qianbei has neither a sword nor spiritual power. Don’t you want to know how I can protect you if something dangerous comes?”

Zizhen had hung his head and nodded, embarrassed, but after a hug and a one-on-one lesson in punching his good nature had returned.

Today, Wei Wuxian decides to push more boundaries. He’s created a stack of talisman paper woven through with spells. First, a spell that imbues the whole paper with the same qualities so it can be cut into smaller pieces without disrupting its power. Second, he’s added what he calls a safety lock, which prevents the paper from being used for anything overly powerful or damaging. The last character he’s added makes all of the power of this stack of talisman paper subservient to one specific piece—a piece he keeps in preparation for any coming problems.

The activity of the day is to make papermen. He passes out the paper and lets each of them cut a little stack of figures in whatever shape they like. Some are standard—one round head, two stubby arms and two legs—while some have long hair or funny pointed feet. Lan Jingyi’s have rabbit ears.

“All right, juniors. Now take your brush and ink. You are going to take one paperman and give him an action. This might be to walk or to run or to do a somersault or anything else. Do not command him to hurt anyone—I don’t need to tell you that! Make your command simple and write it in the middle of your paper.”

He goes around to help the younger ones with their characters. Lan Sizhui has chosen “Dance,” while Lan Jingyi has chosen “Climb.” 

“All right! Now you have your commands ready. Focus your energy and take some full, deep breaths. What you are going to do is think very hard and clearly about your paperman. Imagine that he is you. Imagine what it feels like to be as small as he is, as thin. Imagine that you are your paperman, and imagine standing up.”

At first, nothing happens. Then Wen Ning’s paperman stands up from the ground. Everyone around him gasps and cheers, and as he blushes and hides his face, his paperman falls back to the dirt.

“Very good, Wen Ning! But you all must focus on your own papermen. Come now, quietly, focus.”

One by one, a few little cutouts rise to stand. When about seven of the eleven look at least partially alert, Wei Wuxian instructs them to focus on their commands.

“This is your first time making papermen, so it may help to perform the action along with them. Try to imagine yourself as a little piece of paper, running or climbing or stretching as you’ve instructed.”

At first, only two are moving. Wen Ning’s paperman bends into one perfect kowtow after another. Surprisingly, little Sizhui is the next most successful, his little man rising to spin and dance around the clearing. Over the next fifteen minutes more stand and begin to move. Those who are unsuccessful are frustrated, but Wei Wuxian gives them each a squeeze on the shoulder and lets them play with the others who are running and jumping and dancing along with their paper avatars.

“Yes, well done! Look at them go!” he cheers, swinging Jingyi around as his little man climbs the nearest tree. It falls back to the ground after about a minute, but nothing can discourage Jingyi’s grin.

“It feels so odd, Wei-qianbei!” Yao Hualing cries as her paperman does a series of stretches. “I feel like I’m in two different places at the same time!”

“Yes, that means you are successful, A-Ling!” he cries and drops a kiss on the top of her hair.

He has an armful of two ten-year-olds when the rest of the children suddenly fall silent and stand at attention, papermen falling to the ground. He spins back around, dropping Zizhen and Lan Ting to the grass. He looks at the ground, following Jingyi’s paperman as it finds and begins to climb a set of luxurious red robes. He sees familiar set of boots leading to white and sky blue robes, though he hesitates to look Lan Wangji in the face. 

When he finally does, he’s almost gratified to see red in his cheeks and down his neck, his fists clenched at his side. And next to him, elegant face turned to the children, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise—

“Jiejie!” Wen Ning cries. 

Wei Wuxian feels all the breath leave him as he sways on the spot. He reaches out for Lan Ting’s shoulder to steady himself, his other hand flying to his abdomen, down low where the scar tissues sits, twisted and ugly and still sore.

Wen Qing looks over the crowd of messy children dressed as servants and then, finally, meets his eyes.

Part Nine

[henshengs]

Hunger Games AU, part four

Parts 1-3 now up on ao3! I think I’ll probably post 1 chapter there for every 3 here.

--

Meng Yao can’t remember with precision when exactly he first heard Lan Xichen’s name. His memory isn’t perfect, despite the considerable effort he’s gone to in order to create that impression. At some point he learned the names of each current Sect Leader and their heirs. He knows that when he watched the broadcast of Nie Mingjue’s victory tour, from the security of his tiny office in Qinghe, he was able to put a name to each face that flashed on the screen as Chifeng-zun was introduced to various sect leaders and their families. In Lanling the eighteen-year-old victor was the guest of honor at a lavish banquet, provided with alcohol he did not drink and food he barely touched. In Yunmeng he was challenged to a sword fight by a young, bright-eyed boy who was promptly slapped on the back of the head by sect heir Jiang Cheng. In Gusu he climbed the winding path to Cloud Recesses, accompanied by gasping out of breath camera crews and guards, and was greeted with gentle politeness by a tall and photogenic boy who Meng Yao knew must be Lan Xichen, heir to the Gusu Lan sect. 

The cameras tried to get good looks at Lan Xichen, who after all was first on the list of young cultivators and a frequent topic of tabloid speculation, but Lan disciples blocked them from getting too close, and the cameras returned to their current darling, the young sect leader and child killer Chifeng-zun, with his thrillingly intimidating glare, his broad shoulders and haunted eyes.

Chifeng-zun stepped across the Cloud Recesses boundary, and the cameras tried to follow- and cut out, the live image flaring and dying to blackness. 

Meng Yao doesn’t know what apology or excuse was later given to the Wens. 

Apparently not one good enough. Or perhaps that was only one tiny incident among a larger pile of insubordinations. Or perhaps the reason for Gusu’s punishment had nothing to do with rebellious sentiment. Perhaps there was an economic or logistical reason. 

Half prone on the garage floor, Meng Yao watches the Qinghe carriage pulled out of the way so the Lan carriage can go ahead of them. This is accomplished via sliding rails underneath parts of the floor. The horses, blinkered, are unalarmed; Meng Yao is bitterly jealous of them. 

His stylist injects something into the tender skin around his eye and jaw; “It’ll delay bruising, at least until after the parade,” she says. She reapplies his makeup, with emergency powder and brushes she apparently keeps on her person for such situations as this. “Get him on his feet,” she says, and Nie Mingjue’s hands tighten on Meng Yao’s shoulders, his body tense under Meng Yao’s back, before reluctantly lifting Meng Yao gently upright.  

Someone in a medic’s robes is there, with a suddenness that makes Meng Yao think either they have someone waiting in the garage for situations exactly like this, or one of the batons hit his head and he’s losing time. He should feel more alarmed about that than he does, he thinks. The medic waves a wand over his body and applies gentle pressure to his acupoints. This must not reveal anything immediately fatal, because he’s being bundled towards the carriage.

“Wait,” Nie Mingjue demands hoarsely, and there’s a pause brief enough for Nie Mingjue’s hands to find their way back to Meng Yao’s shoulders, to squeeze as though he wants to fold Meng Yao into his arms. Don’t, Meng Yao thinks, still muddled. Footage from inside the garage will almost certainly not be televised, but the Wens will still see it. Meng Yao can’t control the reaction he’d have, right now, if Nie Mingjue were to be tender with him. 

He’s not sure if he’s relieved when the tenderness doesn’t come. 

“It won’t be for long,” Nie Mingjue says, something cresting under the dark water of his words, the unrevealed shape of it distorting his voice. “Just get through it.”

Meng Yao nods. 

The guards lift him into the carriage, his stylist barking out sharp instructions somewhere in the dark. Zonghui puts out a hand to steady him, when he nearly tumbles out. “Thank you, shijie,” he says, quietly, as the carriage starts to move.

She snatches her gloved hand back as though away from a boiling pot. 

He hates her, then, but that’s fine. That only makes it easier to turn his head away from her and say, even quieter, “We should be allies. For the sake of Qinghe. If one of us wins, Qinghe will receive the benefits and honors.”

He waits, as the horses begin to trot, gilded hooves striking sparks on the cement. The light at the boundary of the garage approaches. Just before they cross the threshold, he hears her say flatly, “Agreed.” 

So tonight has not been a total loss, he thinks, as the carriage emerges into the city night and his senses are overwhelmed with lights and the sounds of huge crowds of people cheering and calling out. A flower petal hits his head, lightly, and he looks up into a cascade of them, tossed from windows high above the street. It is silky soft, and he rubs it between his fingers for an indulgent moment before letting it drop. Before forcing his eyes to seek out the giant screens set up at intervals along the parade route.

He already knows he’s lost any advantage he might have gained through the parade, through his stylist’s costuming choices. The Gusu carriage is ahead of them now, and he can hear the shocked murmurs and mutters rippling through the crowd as it passes. Two male tributes, at least one injured, and both sect heirs with famously handsome faces. No one will be paying attention to anything else tonight. Meng Yao can’t blame them. The cameras keep returning to the two tall pale figures, both standing ramrod straight, both with bloodstains on their robes. One of them looks younger- Meng Yao calculates quickly in his head and decides that Lan Wangji must be fifteen now, the same age as Huaisang. The young face is cold and rigid as ice. The older Lan brother holds himself just as expressionlessly, but there’s something softer about him. He’s eighteen, Meng Yao knows. Eight months younger than Nie Mingjue. A few more weeks, perhaps, and the Wens would have needed to break the rules even further to include him in the Competition. 

With reluctance, the cameras quickly skip over the other competitors. They linger on the Yunmeng carriage, because the boy- Wei Wuxian, dressed in purple so dark it looks black in the nighttime lighting- is putting on a show, perching on the edge of his carriage blowing kisses to the crowd, throwing paper talismans into the air where they burst into showers of sparks and butterflies, responding to the shouts of the crowd with big wide grins and words Meng Yao can’t hear but which must be entertaining because laughter follows him in a swell. The girl, dressed in pale lilac and garlanded in lotus blossoms, is clearly not a performer like her martial brother, but she’s laughing and smiling at his antics, which is probably half the purpose of them. Meng Yao moves Wei Wuxian up his mental list of likely threats. This boy’s going to gain himself a lot of fans. Some of them will pay well to keep him alive. 

He sees only flashes of the other carriages. The blind Shudong competitors, dressed in funerary white as though resigned to their fates, the boy’s white bandage matching the girl’s white eyes, are holding hands. Their carriage is emanating a spray of white fog, making nearby observers shriek and shiver. The Lanling carriage is shimmering gold, exuding wealth and luxury, the boy and girl both wearing elaborate headpieces that drip jewelry as though they’re being married.  The Yingchuan competitors are very clearly dressed to mimic the Wens, in recognition of their favoritism. Meng Yao catches a glimpse of himself and Zonghui, before the cameras rush back to the Lans, and at least his face looks unmarked, at least his smile is impeccable despite the dizziness in his head. 

The ride can’t take longer than half an hour, but it feels like an eternity before the horses clop to a halt, each carriage arranged in a semicircle below an enormous lofty balcony. Meng Yao squints up, through the lights and the still-falling petals, and does his best to get an in person look at the Chief Cultivator. 

He’s not disappointed. The figure on the balcony is distant, but there’s still something in the air, a coldness, a sense of power draped around Wen Ruohan like a cloak. When he speaks, giving the traditional welcome and then segueing into a speech about the importance of unity and power, the crowd listens, silent, spellbound. Then he turns, and disappears through the giant doors behind him, and the spell is broken. The horses take each carriage back to the Training Pavilion. 

The huge doors slide down and Meng Yao is left blinking in sudden darkness. Zonghui has to help him down from the carriage, because his feet are unsteady and there’s a ringing in his ears. He looks through the gloom, looks for Nie Mingjue, expecting at any moment a steadying hand on his shoulder, but the familiar outline is missing. He was probably removed from the garage, Meng Yao realizes, to prevent another incident when the carriages returned. The other competitors are getting out of their carriages, too. The nearest ones are the Lans. Meng Yao sees a flash of white ribbon. Meng Yao had a plan, and it involved the other competitors and their mentors, he knows it did. He takes a step forward, but someone is catching his arms. Someone’s fingers are on his face, pressing a pill through his lips. He stops moving. He swallows. The ringing in his head grows quiet. The flash of white is gone. 

After Nie Mingjue came back from his victory tour, he’d write letters to Lan Xichen, and receive them, in return. Correspondence between sectors was a privilege of the gentry. Meng Yao has a feeling that this may no longer be an accessible privilege, but he can’t know for sure. What he knows for sure is the way the paper envelopes felt smooth beneath his fingertips, the hand-written characters on the other side of the folded paper just barely visible through the thin skin of the envelope. What he knows is that each time he received a letter, Nie Mingjue would smile, and for a time he would be happy.

Nie Mingjue’s happiness was rare, after his return, and had come to be a treasure Meng Yao prized above all others. He had hunted it with luxuries carved out of Nie budgets already strained by new Wen taxes, with humorous anecdotes of Huaisang’s misadventures, with gentle pressure to tense back muscles, late at night in the Sect Leader’s quarters. Nothing had worked.

Meng Yao doesn’t think Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen were lovers, because on the first night of his return Nie Mingjue had clung to Meng Yao’s naked body, his head resting on the softness of Meng Yao’s stomach, and whispered that there had been no one else for all those months, that some of the Wen-dogs had tried to touch him but he had not let them, that Meng Yao was the only one Nie Mingjue wanted touching him. The kinds of words men said to their lovers all the time, but from Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao knew that they were true. 

And yet Nie Mingjue had smiled, every time Meng Yao delivered a letter, smiled as though he had suddenly found himself in the most beautiful garden in the world, with his favorite person standing on a low bridge in front of him, like the moon come down to earth.  

Meng Yao finds himself craving a glimpse of that moon, but instead he’s being led back into the glass elevator, away from the heat and the beautiful horses. There are too many reflections in the glass. Zonghui’s gloved hand is on his arm again, and he catches himself leaning into it, as though she were Huaisang, and that unnerves him enough that he jerks himself in the other direction, leans his forehead against the cool glass and lets time slip away. 

The Nie delegation has the fifth floor of this vast building to themselves. There’s an impression of red and gold paneling- typical Wen interior decorating- and then he’s on a rosewood couch, dark cushions under him, and the medic is back, light fingers brushing over his meridians. They expertly tap his chest and he finds himself coughing up blood, feeling it dribble down his chin. The medic wipes it away. His makeup must be a mess. 

“How is he?” Meng Yao hears Nie Mingjue asking Zonghui.

“The medic says he will be fine tomorrow,” Zonghui replies, voice clipped and professional. He can’t help but admire her. She’s as good as he was, at her age. “He does not seem fully aware of his surroundings. The medic advises rest.”

Meng Yao hears Nie Mingjue grunt. Can imagine the sharp, decisive nod. “You should also go rest,” Nie Mingjue says. “We will start training early tomorrow.”

Silence, as Zonghui bows. Then Meng Yao hears her say, “Yes, Sect Leader.” 

Her feet make a very soft sound on the wooden floors. She must have taken off her heavy boots at some point. Did Meng Yao? No, he thinks his shoes are still on. He wonders if Zonghui will be able to remove her elaborate clothing by herself, or if an attendant will be present in her rooms to do it for her. 

The medic steps back. Meng Yao pushes himself to his feet. The world stays where it is, around him; good. He bows, deeply. The medic bows back, not as deeply but still, it’s nice that they do it at all. Meng Yao waits until they have turned and left through the beautifully wrought doors of the suite before sitting back down and removing his shoes. 

Nie Mingjue is at his shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asks.

“Yes,” Meng Yao says. His voice sounds acceptable, he decides. “Please do not worry on my behalf, Sect Leader.” He looks around. “Might this one trouble you by asking if you know where this one is to sleep?” 

Nie Mingjue clears his throat. “Come with me,” he says. 

Holding his shoes in one hand, Meng Yao follows. Out of the main open space, down a corridor and into a large room with a wide bed. Nie Mingjue goes to the far wall and touches a panel, adjusting something until the black walls suddenly come to life, showing a calm scene of falling water over smooth stones. 

“Your room is on the other side,” he says. “But they’re more or less the same.” He flushes. “You can stay here, tonight.”

Meng Yao tucks his shoes under his arm and bows. He feels himself wobble near the nadir of the bow and lets it happen, so that Nie Mingjue will swallow up the space between them with his long stride and catch Meng Yao’s arms. “Here,” Nie Mingjue says, and he takes the shoes, and sets them down, and then his large hands begin the process of undressing Meng Yao. There is something perverse in having a Sect Leader undress a commoner, but it’s not the first time this has happened. Meng Yao lets himself enjoy it. 

“I need to remove the makeup,” he says. “Is there a washroom?”

There is.

In the small illusory privacy of the washroom he stares at his own face in the mirror, until he feels dizzy again. He washes off the makeup, and braids his hair for sleep. He walks out, naked, uncertain what will be required of him. Nie Mingjue is undressed but clothed in night robes. He is holding out a soft gray robe for Meng Yao. Meng Yao shrugs it on. When Nie Mingjue lies down on the wide bed, he lies down too, and lets Nie Mingjue wrap an arm around his chest and pull him close. The room darkens, but the sound of flowing water remains.

Nie Mingjue’s breath on Meng Yao’s ear makes him shiver. “Xichen,” Nie Mingjue breathes. “Did you see him?”

Meng Yao shifts, rolls over in Nie Mingjue’s arm so he can whisper his response into Nie Mingjue’s neck. “He didn’t look too badly hurt. I think his brother has a broken leg.” 

He feels Nie Mingjue tense in anger at that, and then sigh, and slowly relax. “Thank you,” Nie Mingjue says, into the dark. His arm tightens, pulling Meng Yao closer. Meng Yao wonders what the hidden cameras in the room are making of this. How he can spin it to his advantage. He wonders if Nie Mingjue will still want to hold him like this, if he survives the next month. After Lan Xichen dies in the arena. Because whatever Meng Yao’s chances are, he knows that Lan Xichen’s are less than nothing. No matter what Meng Yao does, that rare smile of happiness on Nie Mingjue’s face will not survive. 

[a-very-fond-farewell]

The forbidden crack! Untamed prompts: 9/?

Maleficent/Sleeping Beauty AU: “Better Start Running”

[loosely based on both the movie and the animated one, nothing much in regards of the original plot bc...reasons. The title is from a quote I read somewhere on the hellsite: what doesn’t kill me... better start running”. Enjoy]

Clearly none of his siblings would have ever forgotten to send him an invitation for his nephew’s one month celebration, Wei WuXian was well aware of this. But he would have never expected to be met with swords and fire at his arrival.

Bringing the silver bells of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan as a gift, the powerful rogue fae wanted to celebrate his stepsister’s firstborn with fortune and luck. Little Jin Ling squirming and starting to wake in her mother’s arms as soon as Wei WuXian arrived and the guards had blocked the entrance of the temple to stop  him from getting through. Jin ZiXuan’s frown set on him from afar, silently asking him how dare... how dare he stepped anywhere near his family. As if Jiang Cheng and YanLi weren’t part of Wei WuXian’s own to begin with.

Sure, making a deal with a fae to protect his family from harm after the eradication of their Clan had attracted nothing but misfortune and hatred his way at merely nineteen. But surely... surely he could still be allowed to participate in such events. So why did Jiang Cheng and their sister look so afraid of him as he made his way towards his nephew? Was it the magical field surrounding him to protect him from the weapons of the Lanling Jin men? Was it because of the horns growing on top of his head? The stench of blood following him around, sticking to his clothes all the way from Burial Mounds?

Surely he didn’t look less human just because of such insignificant changes, right?

But when he outstretched his hands to have a better look at the baby... his sister took a step back. Sorrow in her eyes and fear in her actions as Jiang Cheng backed her up and kindly asked Wei WuXian to leave. Leave before he angered their new family. Before he could show how hurtful those words had been to receive as a greeting, ZiXuan glared him down with disgust and threatened to kill him on the spot.

Apparently, giving up his humanity for a greater cause had earned him only fear and disrespect. Something his increasingly volatile temper could not tolerate, especially after having become a spirit of the forest himself.

Yet, as swords tried to no avail to breach the magical barrier around him, Wei WuXian took Jin Ling in his arms before his sister could stop him. He smiled at the baby and played with his chubby hands, watching as his eyes opened and fixated on his horns, his red eyes, his sharp teeth. The baby smiled at him, in awe.

“Before his sixteenth year of life, when he’ll become of age, the sharpness of his first sword will pierce him so that he’ll fall in a slumber so deep only true love will be able to make him return.”, he curses him, kissing his red mark on his forehead.

If not even his own family had been able to love him after changing into a different form, Wei WuXian thought, no amount of love existed to save even an innocent child from the dangers of the world.

[what happens then? (under the cut. but it’s long. so long. sorry)]

Jin Ling will be sent away, living in the countryside as far as possible from wars, weapons and sharp objects. The Wen siblings and Granny Wen will take care of him and teach him how to be a good person, how to take care of others and such. His temper makes them worry and Wen Ning is simultaneously the best caretaker and clumsiest guardian in the world, so he can balance Jin Ling’s attitude alright. Wen Qing insists on making sure the boy doesn’t run around too much and tells him all sorts of terrifying stories about slaughters and battles to prevent him from venturing outside of their land. Granny Wen teaches him how to make things grow and enjoy the simple pleasures of life, hoping to save him from the curse before he can reach his sixteenth birthday.

However, Jin Ling is curious about the world and as soon as he turns fourteen he sneaks out at night to take long walks in the forest, in hopes to map it down and be able to leave someday. One day he meets a couple of boys just a bit older than him dressed in white, two hunters looking for a deer to bring back home. But Jin Ling doesn’t want them to hurt anyone in the forest and so he quarrels with them until they desist. As they take a step back from him, Jin Ling realizes he had never met someone his age... nor anyone aside from the Wen’s. He decides to secretly befriend them and so they meet every night for two years.

Until one day, just a week or so before his sixteenth birthday, SiZhui and JinGyi don’t show up in the forest as usual and Jin Ling goes out of his way to look for them. The Wen’s woke up the following day and find the boy missing, alerting the Lanling Jin Sect immediately afterward.

Wei WuXian has lived these past sixteen years looking after his nephew, protecting him from harm without him noticing, missing the feeling of holding something so alive and bright in his arms. With his powers growing, his soul festering hatred left and right, he hasn’t dared touch another human being for fear of harming them. So protecting Jin Ling from afar had to be enough. Even so, he doesn’t want to interfere directly in the boy’s life, so he follows him out of the Burial Mounds forest and into the Realm of GusuLan without stopping him.

Jin Ling Does know about the curse or about his real family, but he’s scared of many things all the same and so he avoids dangers if they come his way. But his best friends are in peril and he must... he must save them. His wit and sharp mind will help him along the way, even more so because he has never been unaware of the gentle spirit following him around everywhere. He’s too proud to admit it (and he’s certainly too scared of him to face him first), but Jin Ling knows the fae will never hurt him and so he braves on.

While Jiang Cheng defends the Lanling palace with all he has, missing his nephew anytime he hears the cry of a child in the distance, his sister is mourning her husband after his tragic demise during a night hunt. There weren’t enough men to corner the deer and it flung itself at the king, killing him instantly. The siblings from the Yunmeng Jiang Clan then discover Jin Ling is missing, but they cannot leave for fear of being attacked now that the throne is vulnerable. So they ask the GusuLan Realm to help them looking for a boy in the woods, knowing they can trust them with the delicate task.

The powerful magic surrounding Gusu prevents Wei WuXian to use his abilities if he doesn’t want to be found and hunted down, but his horns sure would attract enough attention to make his efforts to conceal his nature completely useless. So he hides and helps Jin Ling when he can, until he senses something... no, someone of immense magical power approaching them. Silent as snow falling to the ground, but fast as a stream running down to the sea. Fearing they may have come to hurt Jin Ling, Wei WuXian reveals himself only to snatch the kid from there and run away from danger.

In a cave they find SiZhui and JinGyi, one of them injured after trying to follow the deer that had killed the Lanling king, taking shelter from the upcoming storm. After using his powers to heal the boy’s leg, Wei WuXian decides to protect them until the invisible force has left for good and tells them his story. Of how his family had lost everything in a fire, how he had taken revenge after trusting a fae, how much he regretted his choice now and decided to not use his powers for evil anymore. The kids start to trust him more as a result and Jin Ling finally can get to know his guardian better after so many years of silence and loneliness.

But they don’t have time to rejoice that the cave grows cold and suddenly everything turns quiet, even the storm outside. The mysterious hunter has arrived and found them at last, a magician named Lan WangJi looking for three boys lost in the woods. Wei WuXian doesn’t trust him and engages in battle with him, their powers combined strong enough to destroy everything around them. The two boys from the GusuLan Realm try to speak, one of them shouting that Lan WangJi is not a foe while the others insists Master Wei is not a dangerous fae. But the two adults are so lost in their powers that they tune the kids out, the daze too strong for their pleas to pierce through.

Afraid something bad could happen to his guardian, Jin Ling wields one of the boy’s sword to defend him... but accidentally cuts himself and falls asleep with no prospect of ever waking up. Wei WuXian abandons the battle in order to take the boy in his arms, crying his eyes out, filled with regret... but, before he can touch him, Lan WangJi takes him down and ties him up.

Lan WangJi orders his kids to get back to Gusu while he’ll take young master Jin back to his home, even if asleep. He then blocks the entry of the cave with talismans and incantations to seal Wei WuXian inside and take his leave with the boy in his arms.

Stubbornly following Lan WangJi from a safe distance, worried sick for their friend, SiZhui and JinGyi promise Master Wei to come back as soon as they’ll sneak Jin Ling out of Koi Tower, a place renown for its cruelty ever since Jiang Cheng started ruling over the army sixteen years back.

But Wei WuXian is too hurt, too angry to care and after struggling against the boundary for too long he finally frees himself and rushes over to Koi Tower in a cloud of thick black smoke. A storm himself.

Lan WangJi arrives at the palace and makes sure Jin Ling is looked after, but wants to be the one to deliver the news of what happened in the forest to the queen and her brother, to not scare them. But the news of Jin Ling’s eternal slumber travels faster than him and Jiang Cheng’s sister faints on the spot upon hearing it.

Enraged, Jiang Cheng asks Lan WangJi to surveil Koi Tower while he rides back inside the Burial Mounds forest to hunt the monster down. There, he fights against Wei WuXian (who’s too far gone in his rage to recognize his stepbrother) but his power is too strong and Jiang Cheng can hold him back only for so long before the other escapes.

At the palace, Lan WangJi waits, watching as the forest gets infested by evil spirits of all kinds, responding to the malevolent energy Wei Ying is manifesting in his wake. Having alerted his Clan he knows the warriors from Gusu are on their way, but when Wei Ying arrives he doesn’t have time to worry. He has waited for this moment for more than sixteen years and he’s not going to let Wei Ying go this time around.

Wei WuXian rages through, summoning every spirit and ghost he can from Burial Mounds forest as he lashes at the magician dressed in white. They fight with everything they have, drawing blood and screams one from the other relentlessly... until Lan WangJi is close enough to make himself heard.

“Wei Ying! A-Ying it’s me! Can’t you remember who I am?” (A name Wei WuXian hadn’t heard in so... so long)

In the meantime, the Lan kids have sneaked inside the palace and went looking for Jin Ling, finding him laying on a bed covered in dust. The boy was probably put there at the last minute, the rest of the staff too preoccupied with the battle outside to properly care about the young man. Believing he has died, Lan SiZhui and JinGyi cry over their friend’s body, their wailing so loud it awakens the queen, who cries even harden upon seeing her only son for the firs time in sixteen years. Dead.

Wei WuXian does remember now, what he did to obtain such power. What he sacrificed in order to be able to rule over Burial Mounds. What he gave the fae as a price for helping him seek his revenge against those who burned Lotus Pier down to ashes. He had sacrificed the memory of the most precious person in his life, of his Lan Zhan. Who has never stopped looking for him and wait for his return in more than sixteen years.

Lan WangJi, finally able to reach the heart of his beloved, takes him in his arms as Wei Ying deflates on the ground. The spirits gone. With his memories back his powers are gone as well, but not the permanent changes his body has been through. Not the horns, not the red eyes, nor the sharp teeth. But in Lan WangJi’s eyes he’s never been more beautiful, alive and well.

They find the queen crying over her son’s death bed afterwards. Lan ShiZui and JinGyi huddled with her as they mourn. Jiang Cheng has made his return, hunting down Wei WuXian even now, in the depths of Koi Tower... but the moment he enters the dusty room and sees his nephew unmoving, he falls down and crawls to the bed. Inconsolable.

Wei Ying wishes he died in Jin Ling’s place. The boy didn’t deserve any of this and he regrets cursing him so long ago. But WangJi guides him to the bed and puts Jin Ling’s hand in his. The shared love for the sleeping boy tying all the presents together, making his lungs inflate and blood pump in his veins once again.

Jin Ling opens his eyes and smiles at them in awe.

[there you go, now I’m sad bye]

[tazzmanien]

The Untamed review

You’ve probably read a review beginning like this a 100 times before. And still I have to say it: I have never taken the time to review a single drama, because I’m lazy like that. But I think it’s time to do it for this masterpiece! And sorry for the length, I got carried away.

Yes, I have read the novel and yes, I surely do not like adaptations, as they never seem to be able to capture the essence of the canon story. So my hopes were low. If you add up the fact that this is a BL story and it had to be censored, to be able to see the light of the day in China, you would probably be less inclined to watch it. But, hear me out, this drama is worth every of the 2250 minutes of your life! They have captured the overall “look” and feel of the canon story in such a stunning way, that even if they would have discarded the canon story completely, this would have ended being a beautiful drama anyways.

 Acting:

Starting from the cast, each one of them was beautiful and fit the characters they played. Most of the cast was young and yet they truly did a great job. I will be honest with you, most of Asian dramas don’t do it for me in the department of acting, as they tend to over-act, but this one was actually really good even for my picky nature. They clearly took the time to understand each character deeply and to portray them in such an accurate manner, that I didn’t know was possible. In certain aspects they even added depth to some characters that we haven’t experienced in the novel, which was heartwarming (such as Wen Qing, Jiang Yanli, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian for example). Even the synchronization didn’t take away any quality, in fact it might have even given the whole drama more sense of uniformity. Oh, and they kept so many of the original dialogs and monologs, that I actually had the novel open to compare all the time!

 Set, music etc.:

The landscapes, sets, lighting, compositions, costumes, makeup, sound and choreography were all so gorgeous and well thought through, that those alone are reasons the watch it. Whoever was responsible for the camera work I love you! The way they visualized the mystical aspects of the story were entertaining and appealing (I loved the black fog and the sound that the Stygian Tiger Seal made). The martial art styles fit each character well and yet appeared as though celestial beings were dancing (I’m looking at you Xiao Xingchen and Lan Wangji). And don’t let me start talking about the music. The music will haunt you in your dreams, especially Wuji (you will know what I mean when you see the ending).

 Story – incl. comparison to canon:

Lets talk about the story. The novel on its own created such an amazing new fictional world with various types of characters, that it would have been difficult to create a bad adaptation, the film makers would have had to be very lazy to ruin this. So, no surprise here, that they managed to show this divine world and vibrant interactions between colorful characters. Still, I know many do not achieve this and therefore I really want to say thank you to everyone involved who made it possible.

Besides censoring the BL part, they have managed to keep almost every single other aspect of the story. Sometimes they went into such detail, that they caught me off guard and I only managed to close my mouth after several minutes. One could see and feel the love, friendship, family, hardship, envy, revenge, madness, intrigue, strength, political issues, betrayal, hurt, rage, stupidity… And in all honesty it was made in such a way, that even if you want our main heroes to fall in love, you can even see this part in the story. It is up to you, how you interpret their interactions. I know sometimes it sounds like a cheap excuse to says such things, but really it did not feel cheap here at all!

Of course there were other changes to the story (compared to other adaptations very few in my opinion), which were very understandable in fact. Listen, not everything written and seen in our imagination does work well in a live action. It can look weird or unnecessary prolong a story and bore the viewers. So, for example, the fact that they have not chased corpse body parts, but followed a sword spirit had little to no negative effect on the story really. Changing the last fight, actually made it more enjoyable, as the novel repeated some parts too often and was kind of dragging. Changing the temporal sequences was indeed necessary to keep new viewer interested and avoid confusion. Also adding some scenes that were not in the novel, only gave more depth to some characters and made everything more understandable and heart wrenching in the end. And last but not least, yes they cut the steamy parts, but hey we got the chickens! (Yeah my priorities are sometimes weird like that.)

 Conclusion:

Looking from a general viewers perspective this was an amazing and entertaining drama.

Looking from a canon fan viewers perspective this was the best adaptation we could have hoped for (within the boundaries there are due to censorship and filmmaking abilities).

 Rewatch Value:

I’m gonna start it today, so a big YES!

 BTW if you watch the drama with subs, then you should definitely watch the ending on Tencent, as in the WeTV app they have changed a tiny aspect, which can make less of an impact on you (in my opinion).

EDIT: They changed the WeTV app ending back to the original. So it’s the same as Tencent now. Please ignore the last paragraph and enjoy the ride.

[bookofjin]

Annals of Emperor Kang

[From JS007. Together with the annals of Emperor Chang posted earlier, this completes JS007.]

Emperor Kang

The Prosperous August Emperor [kang huangdi], taboo Yue, courtesy name Shitong, was Emperor Cheng's younger brother by the same mother.

In the 1st Year of Xianhe [326 AD], he was enfeoffed as King of Wu. In the 2nd Year [327 AD], moved the fief to King of Langye. In the 9th Year [334 AD] he was designated Cavalier in Regular Attendance and promotions to General of Agile Cavalry. In the 5th Year of Xiankang [339 AD], he was moved to Palace Attendant and Minister over the Masses.

8th Year, 6th Month, gengyin [23 July 342], Emperor Cheng was not at ease. A decree used the King of Langye as successor.

On guisi [26 July], Emperor Cheng expired.

On jiawu [27 July], enthroned the August Emperor, a great amnesty. The various garrison defenders, civil and military [officers], 2000 shi officials and chiefs, did not obtain to immediately be leaving their office but came running to attend.

On jihai [1 August], enfeoffed Emperor Cheng's sons, Pi as King of Langye, Yi as King of Donghai. At the time the Emperor put faith in inactivity and did not speak, he assigned the government to Yu Bing [JS073] and He Chong [JS077].

Autumn, 7th Month, bingcheng [18 August], buried Emperor Cheng in the Xingping Mound. The Emperor personally offered the sacrificial offerings at the western steps. When he had [the coffin] issued and pulled, he went on foot to come to Heaven's Portal, climbed a simple carriage and came to the mound.

On jiwei [21 August], used the Prefect of the Palace Writers, He Chong, as General of Agile Cavalry.

8th Month, xinchou [2 October], the King of Pengcheng, Hong, passed away.

Used the Inspector of Jiang province, Wang Yunzhi [JS076], as General of Guards.

9th Month [16 October – 13 November], decreed Langye state and the historical office [?] to be advanced in rank each proportionately.

Winter, 10th Month, jiawu [24 November], the General of Guards, Wang Yunzhi, passed on.

12th Month [13 January – 10 February], conferred on the civil and military officers 2 grades of rank.

On renzi [10 February], established August Empress Ms. Chu.

[Jianyuan 1]

[11 February 343 – 30 January 344]

1st Year of Jianyuan [“Establishing the Inaugural], Spring, 1st Month [11 February – 12 March], changed the inaugural [to Jianyuan]. Raised relief for widowers, widows, orphans and the solitary.

3rd Month [11 April – 10 May], used the Overseer of the Palace Writers, Yu Bing, as General of Chariots and Cavalry.

Summer, 4th Month [11 May – 8 June], the Inspector of Yi province, Zhou Fu [JS058] and the Grand Warden of Xiyang, Cao Ju, attacked Li Shou and defeated his general Heng at Jiangyang.

5th Month [9 June – 8 July], drought.

6th Month, renwu [10 July], again used bundles of silk to summon the scholars Di Tang [JS094] of Xunyang and Yu Xi [JS091] of Kuaiji.

Had the ministers memorialise, Emperor Cheng expired a single cycle [ago?], request to change the white clothes, carriages to advance and meals like in the past.

On renyin [30 July], a decree said: “The decline and ruin of the rites, because of that the time then rests and rise [?], truly without regularity. Arriving at ruler and parent measuring each other [?], the weight of names and teachings, do not change them [?]. The building of authority and rule, covering to set out in the near eras [?], only speaking of appropriate affairs, truly the start of evil weakening. Former kings esteemed it, later generations nevertheless neglected, yet furthermore because of obeying, again followed light decline [?], righteousness is not possible.”

Shi Jilong led a multitude to attack Murong Huang. Huang greatly defeated him.

Autumn, 7th Month [7 August – 5 September], Shi Jilong's general Dai Kai led the multitudes to come and surrender.

On dingsi [14 August], a decree said: “Murong Huang destroyed and exterminated the Jie bandits, then speaking of the dead and lost more than 80 000 people, wanting thus for them the start of Heaven's loss [?]. In the affairs of the Central Plain, [We] ought to add tokens and measures. Moreover Dai Kai already led a section of the faction to return to obedience, [We] ought to see to the comforting of the toiling [?]. Thus dispatch envoys to make calls on [the General] who Calms the West and of Agile Cavalry, and inquire of the plans for the various army affairs.”

Used the General who Assists the State and Interior Clerk of Langye, Huan Wen [JS098] as Lesser Controller of the Vanguard, Acting with the Tally, to lead the multitudes entering Linhuai. The General who Calms the West, Yu Yi [JS073], as Great Commander-in-Chief of Conquering and Punishing, to move to headquarter at Xiangyang.

On gengshen [17 August], in Jinling and Wu commandery calamity.

8th Month [6 September – 4 October], Li Shou died. His son Shi inherited the bogus rank.

Shi Jilong sent his general Liu Ning to attack and capture Didao.

Winter, 10th Month, xinsi [6 November], used the General of Chariots and Cavalry, Yu Bing [as] Commander-in-Chief of All Army Affairs of Jing, Jiang, Si, Yong, Yi and Liang# Provinces and Inspector of Jiang province. Used the General of Agile Cavalry, He Chong, as Overseer of the Palace Writers, Commander-in-Chief of All Army Affairs of Yang and Yu Provinces, Inspector of Yang province, Recording the Affairs of the Masters of Writing, to assist the government.

Used the Interior Clerk of Langye, Huan Wen [as] Commander-in-Chief of All Army Affairs of Qing, Xu and Yan Provinces and Inspector of Xu province, Chu Pou [JS093] as General of Guards and Acting Prefect of the Palace Writers.

11th Month, jisi [24 December], a great amnesty.

12th Month [2 January – 30 January], Shi Jilong invaded Zhang Jun. Jun sent his General Xie Ai to resist him. In a great battle at Hexi Jilong achieved defeat.

12th Month [sic], Gaojuli dispatched envoys to court to present [tribute].

[Jianyuan 2]

[31 January 344 – 17 February 345]

2nd Year, Spring, 1st Month [31 January – 29 February], Zhang Jun dispatched his generals He Lin and Xie Ai to punish the Southern Qiang at Tianhe, greatly routing them.

2nd Month [1 March – 29 March], Murong Huang and the Xianbei leader Yuwen Gui fought at Changli. Kui's multitudes were defeated and he fled to north of the desert.

4th Month [29 April – 28 May], Zhang Jun's general Zhang Guan defeated Shi Jilong's general Wang Zhuo at Sanjiaocheng.

Autumn, 8th Month, bingzi [27 August], advanced the General who Calms the West, Yu Yi, to General who Conquers the West.

On gengchen [31 August], the Holding the Tally, Commander-in-Chief of All Army Affairs of Si, Yong and Liang# provinces, Inspector of Liang# province and General who Pacifies the North, the Duke of Jingling, Huan Xuan, passed on.

On dingsi [7 October?], used the General of Guards, Chu Pou, as Specially Advanced, Commander-in-Chief of All Army Affairs of Xu and Yan provinces and Inspector of Yan province, to headquarter at Jincheng.

9th Month [23 October – 21 November], the Grand Warden of Badong, Yang Qian, struck Li Shi's general Shen Yang, ran him off, and seized his general Yue Gao.

On bingshen [15 November], established imperial son Dan as August Heir-Apparent.

On wuxu [17 November], the Emperor expired in the Model Potency Hall. At the time he was 23 years old. He was buried in the Chongping [“Venerated Peace”] Mound.

Earlier, when Emperor Cheng was ill, the Prefect of the Palace Writers, Yu Bing, himself, due to the maternal uncle clan controlling the court with power equal to the Master of Men, feared the future of a different era, the relatives about to be neglected, therefore said the state had stubborn enemies and they ought to establish an adult lord. Thereupon used the Emperor as the successor.

In the system and measures of the reign titles, twice fostering the central court [?], because of that changed the inaugural to “Establishing the Inaugral” [jianyuan].

Someone spoke to Bing, saying: “Guo Pu's [JS072] prophesy says: 'At the boundary of erecting the first, the hills and mountains overturn.' To Erect is to Establish. First is Inaugural. Hills and mountains [丘山] is the taboo.” [Emperor Kang had the personal name Yue岳.]

Bing glanced fearfully, then sighed, saying: “If there is good or evil, how will easy changes [?] be able to help?” Coming to this, the results verifies the saying.

The Historian’s Comments

Your Subject, the Historian, says: Indulging the cruel overflowed Heaven. How is this morning and evening? [?] If therefore thoroughly punishing without hatred, the numerous feelings are similar to raising the head. Also it is possible thereby to see the moment of the disobedient submitting to it. Emperor Cheng because of the weakness of his resources defended the lands of the Jiang and Huai, the government issued from Weiyang, the sound shrewd and powerful submitting [?]. Murderous followers were already indulging, the divine receptacles on the verge of danger, the wealth of the Hua capital's original bickering [?], the burning of the palace houses at Xiangyang [?]. Jie's dog barked at Yao. The huge fox inherited chaos, just then the various Houyi [?], how similar to these to a great extent [?].

Turning to our August Carriage, [he] did not have the host of Wen of Jin, uniting at the leafy mulberry trees, moreover relying on the power of Duke Tao. The ancients' submissive lords, did not favour the house of a subject, the Son of Heaven widely travelled, then escaped to the north side of the palace, hearing the various lost plans, employing as the regular law. The manifest lineage at the gates of Wang Dao, pulling in the clothes to bow in front, how is it inferior to the Duke of Lu receiving the jade? [?] The Emperor likewise overcame frugality in person, the numerously able to arouse those who had scattered and drifted from evil.

The Appraisal says:

However the August early expressed.

The remaining uncles were assisting.

Diligent at presenting robbers.

Clumsy at acting with the host.

The fire reached the Lord's house.

Troops wrapped around the Emperor's tent.

The carriage of Shitou

Within the seas held grief.

Kang succeeded to Heaven's wealth.

The residence decorated with the mournful rites.

Falling down the canons just then fostered.

Declining years how hurried.