#like every single time a name out there is someone terrible.... there is a sect of leaf fans that are just like. we need him lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Prompt 1) NMJ is the son of the concubine, NHS is the son of the legal wife, who had difficulty conceiving because of an old night hunting injury, and picked out a concubine for her husband who was big and strong and healthy as on ox - the strength got passed on, her more even temperament didn't. The legal wife conceived later, with much difficulty and they weren't entirely sure NHS would live at first

ao3

“Are you well?” Nie Mingjue asked Jin Guangyao, his voice stiff, and Jin Guangyao looked at him sidelong, surprised by the question, as well as the fact that Nie Mingjue was talking to him at all.

Normally, he would assume that Nie Mingjue was doing it because Lan Xichen was encouraging him to get along with Jin Guangyao again, but Lan Xichen was in the Cloud Recesses, had been in the Cloud Recesses for quite some time. Officially, he was helping oversee the rebuilding; unofficially he was caring for his brother, who had officially entered seclusion and unofficially was healing from a punishment so grievously terrible that Jin Guangyao was reminded all over again why one could not trust the righteous facades of the wealthy and powerful Great Sects.

Not that he needed much reminding, here in Jinlin Tower…

At any rate, Lan Xichen couldn’t be the reason Nie Mingjue was asking Jin Guangyao about his well-being, and that meant that his stern, grim-faced oldest sworn brother was doing it on his own, for reasons of his own.

Naturally, Jin Guangyao mistrusted that even more.

“Of course, da-ge,” he said with a practiced smile. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, somehow, impossibly, even stiffer than before. “No, I just – I meant – with Jin Zixuan’s death. It must have made it – hard. Here. For you.”

That was a staggeringly perceptive insight, and the fact that it came from Nie Mingjue, who thought ignoring rumors until they went away was a valid strategy, was something of an uncomfortable surprise. Even Lan Xichen hadn’t really thought of Jin Guangyao in the aftermath of Jin Zixuan’s death and the ensuing calamity, with the Nightless City and Wei Wuxian’s final downfall and everything with Lan Wangji taking away his attention; at best, he’d penned a careless letter belatedly expressing that he was sad that Jin Guangyao hadn’t had more of an opportunity to get to know Jin Zixuan better before his untimely demise.

Not even Su She had said anything, taking Jin Zixuan’s death as an unmitigated good – an obstacle out of their way, and nothing more. Easy enough for him to think as sect leader of his own sect, however small.

Not so easy for Jin Guangyao.

Not so easy when Madame Jin’s dislike of him had turned to full-blown maddened hatred, when his father looked at him like filth on his shoe, when they wouldn’t let him anywhere near Jin Ling as if his mere touch were some sort of toxic poison…

“…thank you,” he said cautiously. “I’ve been doing fine.”

Nie Mingjue jerked his head in a nod. “Avoid the sect elders for a time,” he said, and when Jin Guangyao looked at him, he was staring straight ahead, not looking at him at all. “Be careful with what you eat and drink. Some people don’t like to take chances.”

Was Nie Mingjue – Nie Mingjue – warning him about a possible assassination attempt? The man who had barely consented to using spies during wartime, who thought politics could be conducted through above-board dealings, who thought bribery and blackmail were unacceptable crimes? Him?

The world had truly turned upside down.

“I’ll be careful,” Jin Guangyao said, and found to his embarrassment that his tone had unconsciously softened, revealing the sudden fondness he was feeling for no good reason. He could rationalize it as a deliberate move, because allowing Nie Mingjue to do him a favor and sounding touched about it was a good way to get closer to him, to get back through those iron defenses of his. The problem was that it wasn’t a stratagem, not really, and that was dangerous.

Nie Mingjue nodded again, and Jin Guangyao expected him to move on – he and Nie Mingjue might be sworn brothers, but they didn’t chat – but he didn’t. He lingered, instead, clearly wanting to say something, something he was chewing over and not quite able to spit out.

Unusual, for someone who normally prided himself on being straightforward and direct.

“Is there something else?” Jin Guangyao eventually asked when Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to be actually making any progress towards saying anything.

Nie Mingjue grimaced and took a step – off to the side, to a corner of the path that was a little more secluded than most. Interestingly, he didn’t make the amateur mistake of going for one of the obviously secluded alcoves, which of course had all sorts of hiding-holes for eavesdroppers, but rather ended up in one of the few areas where the architecture created a natural dead space for sound.

Intrigued, Jin Guangyao followed him there.

Once they were there, Nie Mingjue still looked awkward – he was still refusing to look directly at Jin Guangyao, as if they wouldn’t be talking in hushed tones in a secluded corner if he didn’t admit that that was what they were doing – but finally said, “Would it help or hurt if I said anything?”

Jin Guangyao frowned a little, not following. “Said anything?”

“About the inheritance,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao’s eyes widened. “You’re the only recognized son left; you ought to be named heir until Jin Ling is full grown. But that doesn’t mean people will let that happen so easily.”

Jin Guangyao would have been less surprised if Wen Ruohan had spontaneously resurrected himself from the dead and performed a brothel fan dance on the front lawn of Jinlin Tower.

It had not even remotely entered his calculations that Nie Mingjue would be anything but an obstacle to his ambitions for power over the Lanling Jin sect – at best, he had hoped only that Nie Mingjue would be convinced that Jin Zixuan’s death was wholly Wei Wuxian’s fault and not find some way to blame Jin Guangyao for it, and that he wouldn’t immediately suspect that Jin Guangyao of scheming to kill Jin Ling and take the whole thing for himself.

He’d never dreamed that Nie Mingjue might think that he deserved it.

“I’ll support you, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, as if it were obvious, when it was the least obvious thing that had ever happened in Jin Guangyao’s life. “But I’m not actually any good at this sort of thing, you know – playing politics with the internal affairs of other sects. I don’t want to make things worse for you just because I don’t know what the right approach is, especially not here.”

Jin Guangyao stared at him.

Nie Mingjue, not hearing a response, glanced at him and scowled. Lowering his voice still more, he said, “Think on it carefully. Sect Leader Jin hates me personally, but my Nie sect isn’t nothing, not even in Lanling. It’s still more so after the war, after all those battles I won to save the Jin sect’s rotten – that is, after everything I did to help. Even if your father doesn’t like it, he still has to give my sect face, and his sect elders know it. You’re a war hero, and my sworn brother; if a public stand on my part would help make things easier for you…”

“I’ll think on it carefully,” Jin Guangyao assured him, his mind already racing over the possibilities. Nie Mingjue underestimated himself – he wasn’t just a war hero, he was the war hero, the righteous and unyielding war god that had won an impossible war for the rest of them. He was Jin Guangshan’s chief rival for the position of Chief Cultivator and he wasn’t even trying to get the position; he probably wanted nothing more than to go home to Qinghe and sleep for three months and yet practically every single sect leader that Jin Guangshan felt out on the subject invariably dropped his name as the possible alternative. Assuming he was serious, and Nie Mingjue was always serious, his public support would make it extremely tricky for Jin Guangshan to refuse to name Jin Guangyao as the official heir, even if he tried to claim that this was a private matter. The rest of the sect would force him to do it, even against his will.

Moreover, Lan Xichen would follow Nie Mingjue’s lead, or at least could be easily encouraged into doing so. He was so distracted with his brother, if Jin Guangyao went to him and pointed out that Nie Mingjue thought it was a good idea to stand behind him…no, he wouldn’t even need to do that. Everyone knew how much better his relationship with Lan Xichen was in comparison to Nie Mingjue; if Nie Mingjue stood behind him, everyone would assume that Lan Xichen did as well, and then he would have two of the remaining Great Sects backing his right to inherit – even if only in the interim – the seat of power for Lanling Jin, as the only recognized son…

Except, of course, Jin Guangshan had already accounted for that.

Jin Guangyao’s eyes flickered. Perhaps there was a way to test Nie Mingjue’s sincerity.

“There is one issue,” he said, and Nie Mingjue turned his head to look at him directly. “My father has – decided to bring home another son.”

Nie Mingjue stared at him. “Another son?”

“From a minor noble family of commoners –”

“He brought one home now?” Nie Mingjue said, and he sounded angry. He always sounded angry, but this time he sounded angry on Jin Guangyao’s behalf, something he hadn’t been since Langya, since Qinghe, and it thrilled Jin Guangyao’s heart to hear it. He’d always secretly enjoyed having someone as physically and politically strong as Nie Mingjue in his corner, the power of it going to his head; it was even more so now, when he was finally in a position where he could really use it. “That’s a deliberate insult to you, and for what? Some untried boy…”

One who isn’t the son of a prostitute, Jin Guangyao thought, but of course Nie Mingjue wouldn’t think about it that way. He never had, not from the beginning.

“Father is of course within his rights to bring home whoever he wishes, for the best interest of the sect,” he said diplomatically, and Nie Mingjue huffed and rolled his eyes. “Da-ge…”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Nie Mingjue said curtly. “Think on it, and tell me what you want me to do.”

With that he turned away and strode off towards the main hall, a scowl firmly on his face.

Jin Guangyao watched him go, pleased – Nie Mingjue was really too easy to manipulate, if you knew him well enough. He’d keep quiet during the opening ceremony of the conference, but if he was really sincere about standing up for Jin Guangyao’s right to inherit, there would be no way he’d be able to refrain from expressing his views to Jin Guangshan at some point later that evening.

Sure enough, Nie Mingjue seethed throughout most of the complex and beautiful ceremony Jin Guangyao had arranged to show off Lanling Jin’s wealth and strength and taste – all wasted on him, naturally, so Jin Guangyao didn’t take any offense – and through dinner as well, and afterwards found a reason to make his way over to Jin Guangshan. After a few words, they both retreated to one of the receiving rooms.

Jin Guangyao made his excuses very shortly thereafter and slipped away: the receiving rooms, at least, were not dead spaces, and he knew all the ways to listen in there.

By the time he arrived, they were already arguing.

“ – what business of yours?” Jin Guangshan was snarling. “These are my private family matters!”

“He is my sworn brother,” Nie Mingjue said in return, his voice stiff as always. It was interesting to Jin Guangyao that he still didn’t seem happy about admitting that fact; he was still resentful of Jin Guangyao, still suspicious, and yet he supported him regardless, just because he thought it was his right. Ah, the foolishness of good people! “When you refuse to give him face, that becomes my business.”

Jin Guangshan spat, audibly. Jin Guangyao, still carefully moving into a position where he could see as well as hear, hoped he’d aimed it at the floor and not at Nie Mingjue’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Jin Guangshan said. “I suppose I really shouldn’t be so surprised to find you supporting him, should I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nie Mingjue demanded, and Jin Guangyao wondered the same.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Jin Guangshan said. Jin Guangyao had never heard his father sound so cruel – and he had quite a bit to compare it to. “They do say like calls to like, don’t they?”

Jin Guangyao had just finally gotten into view position, which meant he was just in time to see all the blood drain out of Nie Mingjue’s face as if he’d just been stabbed.

“You may have won some merit,” Jin Guangshan said, and he was smirking now. “But they do say blood always tells – or did you think that people would forget that it’s your brother that’s the true-born son, and you merely a concubine’s get?”

He was what?

Nie Mingjue was –

It was impossible. Surely, it was impossible.

And yet Nie Mingjue was not denying Jin Guangshan’s words, was not getting angry at the slander, was standing there stiff-backed and grim-faced –

“I still remember how disappointed your father was when his beautiful, beloved, delicate wife couldn’t get a pregnancy to last the term,” Jin Guangshan said, picking up one of the jars of wine and taking a swig. “He didn’t want to take a concubine at all, thought it’d be disrespectful to his wife, but what could he do? He was the sole heir, with an obligation to continue his lineage…they bought your mother for the breeding, like bringing in a cow for the farmyard bull.”

He laughed.

Nie Mingjue said nothing.

“Healthy, I think he said about her. Healthy and big, good hips for bearing children, good tits to nurse them – that was all he cared about, squeezing a few sons out of her, and she didn’t even manage that. Ran away after the first one, didn’t she? You ever figure out where she went, whether she ended up married to some dumb farmer as illiterate as her, or else lying on her back in a brothel? Dead in a beggar’s grave somewhere, perhaps?”

Nie Mingjue said nothing.

“No, it’s no surprise: of course you’d back the little son of a whore for the position of rightful heir, as if letting him take it would help cover up for the way you stole your own brother’s –”

“Watch your words,” Nie Mingjue said, his heavy voice slicing through the air like a saber.

“Still pretending it wasn’t theft, then?” Jin Guangshan laughed again, pacing the room back and forth, prowling like some sort of beast. “You were supposed to step down when he was ready – you had to swear never to have children, never to marry, all so you could warm the sect leader seat until he was grown up and ready to take it himself. But a weakling wastrel like that, he’s never going to be ready, is he? Very clever of you. I bet your sect elders hadn’t thought of you getting around it like that.”

“You dare –”

“Oh, I dare! And I’d dare more, if you think you can push me around!” Jin Guangshan bared his teeth. “Let me tell you now, Sect Leader Nie, if you dare make a public statement of support for Guangyao, I’ll remind the whole world that you’re no better than him, that you ought to be one of the Nie sect’s servants, not its sect leader –”

“Go ahead.”

Jin Guangshan stopped.

“Go ahead,” Nie Mingjue said again, stepping forward, and Jin Guangyao had never actually seen him purposefully use his height against someone, wield it like a weapon to remind the other party which of them was the more terrifying. “I’ve already had half a dozen public arguments with Huaisang about the fact that he needs to take the role of Sect Leader; everyone in my sect knows that he’s the one who keeps refusing. Do you really think everyone is like you? Scrabbling for every scrap of power you can get, like a rat in the rubbish bin?”

Jin Guangshan took an involuntary step backwards as Nie Mingjue continued to advance.

“When there are those who speak against you, you must do so well that they have no choice but to shut their mouths,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was the very same words he had spoken in encouragement to Jin Guangyao, all those years ago when they had first met. At the time, and thereafter, Jin Guangyao had thought him naïve, of not knowing of which he spoke. “Tell me, Sect Leader Jin, if you go out and spew your poison to your sycophants, do you really think any but the most loyal and brainless will open their mouths to condemn me now? Now, when I’ve just won the cultivation world a war, when I saved Lanling Jin a dozen times or more? Do you really think people will remember my mother instead of my saber?”

“You’d be amazed what people remember,” Jin Guangshan said, even if his voice was weaker, more desperate than it had been before. Less mighty and more pathetic than before, as if Jin Guangyao were suddenly seeing him in a brand new light: seeing him as what he was, as a man who would never looked beyond a person’s birth, no matter what their merits. “In the end, public arguments or not, you were the one who raised Nie Huaisang, now a good-for-nothing, a waste, and you sit in his throne, managing his Nie sect. People will remember that! Your sect will still lose face, be dishonored!”

“Fine. Then I’ll just kill you,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangshan gaped at him. “Why not? You’re right. To protect my brother’s birthright, I vowed never to have children, never to marry; the only ambitions in my life were to allow Huaisang to live well as he grew older and to avenge my father, and I’ve accomplished both. Even if they execute me for your murder, what’s it to me? What will I have lost?”

Jin Guangshan’s mouth moved open and closed, mute in his shock, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him.

Nie Mingjue’s lips twisted into a sneer of his own.

“For once in your life, Sect Leader Jin, just do the right thing,” he said, sounding tired, and Jin Guangyao felt something loosen inside of him that had gone inexplicably frozen and pained at the idea of Nie Mingjue breaking all those morals and principles he always seemed to hold so dear.

It was strange. Not a day earlier, Jin Guangyao would have sworn that he would’ve liked nothing more than to see Nie Mingjue pushed too far, forced down into the muck and mud that the rest of them trudged their way through, and now that he saw a hint of it, he’d never wanted anything less.

“Name Meng Yao your heir until Jin Ling is grown,” Nie Mingjue continued. “Reap the benefits of the alliance he brings with him and have us all honor you as an elder, if that’s what you want. But playing games like this…I’d say it’s beneath you, but I’d need a shovel to get that deep. So don’t think about it. Just do it. Or I’ll make you.”

He left, Jin Guangshan still gaping after him. It wasn’t long before he finally started moving, throwing around expensive teacups and furnishings and shouting for servants to bring him a drink and a whore, even though it was early; Jin Guangyao returned to the party, knowing there would be nothing more for him to learn, not when his father was in a mood like that.

Later that night, when the party was over and all cleaned up, he went to the quarters assigned for their guests from the Nie sect and was unsurprised to see a light still lit within the one assigned to the sect leader.

He knocked, and a familiar voice beckoned him to enter.

Nie Mingjue was dressed in a sleeping robe, but he was at his desk, writing a letter; he’d clearly been unable to sleep. He looked up when Jin Guangyao entered.

“What?” he asked, short and sharp and rude as always.

These days, Jin Guangyao usually planned out his encounters with Nie Mingjue in advance, hoping to minimize awkwardness and achieve his goals without too much of a scolding. He’d done that at the very beginning of knowing him, only to rapidly give up during his time at Qinghe – Nie Mingjue was both predictable and yet somehow an utter mystery, and it was easier to just go with the flow, adapt to the circumstances, than it was to plan in advance. Only after he’d left did he start planning once again.

He wasn’t planning now.

“Your mother,” he said, and Nie Mingjue barked a laugh, reaching up with a hand to rub at his eyes.

“Did your father tell you?” he asked. “Or did you just listen in?”

Jin Guangyao shrugged, and Nie Mingjue for once did not seem inclined to demand an answer.

“Is it true?” he asked instead, even though he already knew. “That she was…”

Like mine.

Not exactly like, of course. Jin Guangshan wouldn’t have hesitated to call Nie Mingjue the son of a whore directly if he thought he could get away with claiming it was merely fact, and had managed to imply as much nonetheless. Jin Guangyao’s mother’s shame could never be washed away, not in his lifetime; Nie Mingjue’s birth, being merely low, was not the same.

And yet.

“Oh, it’s true,” Nie Mingjue said mirthlessly. “Right down to the fact that they all but bought her based on how fertile she looked, for all that my father later pretended it wasn’t that, and the fact that she ran away.”

Jin Guangyao blinked. If he was playacting, he might have bitten his lip, averted his eyes, and he still considered doing it, but for the moment he was still feeling too off-balance to really commit to it. “Is she – still alive?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged.

“Have you looked for her?”

“I’ve been sect leader for over a decade,” he said, which wasn’t a denial. “If she wanted to find me, she knows where I am.”

That was a good point, Jin Guangyao supposed.

“Was it hard?” he asked, and Nie Mingjue frowned, clearly not understanding the question. “For you, when it was you. Was it hard to convince them to let you inherit?”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes slid half-shut in pained memory. “Yes.”

Jin Guangyao nodded, and went to sit down next to Nie Mingjue, who allowed it, returning to his work. He didn’t say anything.

It was rather atypical for Jin Guangyao – he was always thinking of something to say, when it came to Nie Mingjue, trying to bridge the gap between them with clever words. Perhaps it was only that the gap had shrunk, or had never been as large as he had thought.

After a while, Nie Mingjue said, “You know I wish you were better than you are,” and Jin Guangyao looked at him sidelong. “But in the end, you’re my brother. Isn’t that what matters?”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said, and there was that uncalled-for fondness again. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

#mdzs #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #jin guangshan #my fic #my fics #alternative backstory #dead spaces #jessaramine

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crossdressingdeath · 3 years

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Why are people bias against JFM? Madame Yu is a woman, she is strong, yes. But at the end of the day both are at fault for their children's upbringing. Putting all the fault on JFM is unfair because in the case where Madame Yu is constantly slandering his image by constantly reproaching him of being unfaithful, it is tiresome to deal with someone who just won't listen to you. It's like talking to a wall. Of course JFM will walk away. He prefers to avoid accidentally snapping at his wife in anger, or frustration. Him walking away is him being considerate enough to not agitate his wife further in front of their kids.

In the manghua, in the scene after the cave, he asks Madame Yu to speak about the matter of his supposed love for Wei Wuxian's mother in private. He tries to be considerate to his son. He doesn't want Jiang Cheng to hear his mother insinuate he favours Wei Wuxian because of his rumoured love for his mother.

People love Madame Yu and might be bias because she is strong and fearless, a rare representation in the books from what I've noticed, but they should see that it is not entirely JFM's fault that Jiang Cheng turned out this way. If we look at every husbands, we can see that JFM is actually decent, even better than everyone else. Particularly if we compare him to Jin Guangshan who mind you cheats left and right.

If we were to try and apply their personality in real life, who would you really prefer to have as a friend or partner? Madame Yu who is according to fans, a tsundere but I don't think the author confirmed this fact? Someone with whom you have to walk on eggshells with becauss she will criticize you for every single thing that you do? Trust me I live with someons like that and I can tell you it's not easy. Or with someone like JFM? Someone who is passive to a fault, yes, but who won't dishonour you by slandering your name constantly? Someone who will only criticize you when only when you deserve it? I believe that if circumstances were different, about his marriage and his partner, JFM wouldn't be that terrible as a father. He gets along well with people who have a similar personality to him and we can't blame him for that because it would be hypocritical since according to fans who defend Madame Yu's character, we are supposed to accept her as she is. Living with someone like Madame Yu is not easy and I can understand why JFM would be avoiding her. He is trying to make himself as small as he can to avoid getting scolded and reproached at. I feel for him in that way because I try to avoid conflicts in general with people like Madame Yu because it is exhausting and has a tendency to set off my anxiety.

So if we are to start blaming people left and right, completely ignoring that while parents can influence your personality, children don't always turn out to be as abusive as them because they generally want to avoid recreating that pattern (Jiang Cheng could have changed himself. No one told him to be like his mother. He was old enough when he went to Gusu to have healthy interactions with others. You are right to blame the parents but also let's keep in mind that not every child who was born into a family where the father was an alcoholic will become one as well. It is all up to the individual to in the end change the pattern. Sometimes they need help to change and that's okay. Because they know they need to change.)

Sorry for my long post but that's how I see Jiang Fengmian and Madame Yu. It's very tragic that it turned out this way, but Madame Yu maybe shouldn't have pushed the engagement so much on her side too. JFM knew they weren't compatible but she wanted to marry him (honestly though...who wouldn't when you see all the other clan leaders at this time? Nie Mingjue is younger than JFM and Jin Guangshan and Wen Ruohan I think. So he wouldn't be their classmate.) JFM realistically when you meet everyone else, is the best choice as husband. It's really just seeing who is the least terrible of all of them.

First off yeah, NMJ is the next generation down from JFM and YZY; they would’ve gone to school with his father, who died when NMJ was young. YZY maybe could have married his father, but... well, she didn’t. And JFM very much did not want to marry YZY; her family forced him into it, and he only gave in when CSSR and WCZ (who were likely his only support) left the sect.

Yeah, it really is this Thing where people are like “Oh, JFM was so horrible to JC!” when... his only real fault was not stopping YZY. He doesn’t even avoid her! She avoids him! She hangs out in her pavilion refusing to do her job as the sect leader’s wife! The most he does to her is try to stop her from using her children and JFM’s head disciple as weapons in her pointless, petty war against the man she forced to marry her! And even then he’s not trying all that hard; I mean, she’s still permitted to whip WWX for complete non-offences. JFM could put YZY in seclusion permanently or just divorce her outright; instead all he requests is that she not be blatantly cruel and petty in front of him, and apparently even that’s too much for her. Also like. she didn’t have to marry a great sect leader, now did she? There are loads of minor sects; she’s from one of them. But no, only one of the most powerful men in the world would be enough for her, and the fact that they were entirely incompatible was unimportant.

Basically JFM was distant, sure, but wasn’t actually a bad father or husband. It’s just that 1. YZY made everyone miserable and JFM didn’t stop her so apparently it’s his fault and 2. the bare minimum requirement of “don’t be horrible to literally everyone including children in front of me” is apparently way too much to ask of YZY so that cruel demand is tantamount to abuse. It’s a lot of bullshit caused by people bending over backwards to find excuses for the woman who whips a child because she hated his mother, essentially.

#mdzs #lotus mom #jiang fengmian #anon #asks

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tanoraqui · 5 years

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tanoraqui

Still thinking about an au in which for some reason WWX and the Wens are left to just live peacefully on the creepy death mountain - some detente wherein they don’t leave the mountain ever and in exchange no one tries to visit ever. Borders patrolled by corpses and sect disciples. So A-Yuan grows up raised kind of collectively but mostly by WWX and Wen Qing (the one most likely to tell WWX that he’s doing it wrong), and learns healing-focused spiritual cultivation AND demonic cultivation, and then at some point starts sneaking out to be the terrifying force of righteous kindness he was always going to be

tanoraqui

Righteous kindness but also, like, having picked up WWX’s cavalier confidence (or at least some of the ability to fake it) and Wen Qing’s general attitude of Do No Harm But Take No Shit

Like IMAGINE

tanoraqui

In this au, despite the strict border-by-mutual-agreement that’s the only reason somehow no ones tried to attack, LWJ sneaks in like one a year so he and WWX can make eyes at one another but not actually say anything ever, and Wen Qing and LXC are both EXHAUSTED bc both their dumb little brothers (WWX is a sibling by adoption now don’t @ me) mope for like a week after EVERY SINGLE TIME THIS HAPPENS, and it’s been /over ten years/.

tanoraqui

Meanwhile Jiang YanLi and JZX are FINE, and JYL somehow keeps up some sort of correspondence with WWX - or at least, he’s faithfully managed to send a birthday present for Jin Ling every single year, and every time, JYL makes her son write a thank-you note and bribes some series of people to get it smuggled back to Yiling

tanoraqui

...which means, honestly, that Jin Ling is probably wildly curious about his uncle the evil demonic cultivator kept trapped within the terrible ghost mountain by the forces of Good and Right, and WILL sneak out one day to try to visit. Optimally, obviously, at the same time Wen Yuan is sneaking out to see the non-mountain world

tanoraqui

The optimal plot is that Wen Yuan ropes Jin Ling into helping him set up WWX and LWJ, because he, too, is exasperated at this point, and Jin Ling ropes Wen Yuan into arranging like a parent trap reunion for the Jiang siblings, and obviously there are monsters and undead to complicate it all

tanoraqui

They kind of acquire Lan Jingyi somewhere, somehow. He’s having a blast

There is a 100% chance that the first Adult(TM) to find them is Wen Ning and they just kind of rope him into whatever the hell is going on at the time

...you know what, I think this is just a good au where JGY fucking died at some point

tanoraqui

Maybe someone threw him down the stairs again and he just broke his fucking neck. WWX is still vilified but between Jiang Cheng not really wanting to attack and Jiang (Jin?) Yanli being AGGRESSIVELY against it, and dragging JZX along with her, they’re left in peace.

tanoraqui

Oh man and Jin Ling has YOUNGER SIBLINGS in this...

Hey for u: Jiang Cheng/Wen Qing can accidentally happen while the Teens are trying to get everyone else to meet

Today at 8:42 AM

@professorsparklepants

I love this it's so goddamn wacky

tanoraqui

I just want teenager-based shenanigans ft. surprisingly competent teenagers and all the adults running around like chickens with their heads chopped off

professorsparklepants

Jingyi: why are you two more calm about this than the literal adults

Wen Yuan: have you met my dad?

tanoraqui

Also to be clear it is not at all hard to convince Wen Ning to join Team: Teenage Shenanigans, bc literally ANYONE in the Burial Mountain village would probably be down if you were like, “we’re engaged in a conspiracy to make Wei Wuxian fucking admit that he’s in love with that Lan guy who visits a couple times a year”

professorsparklepants

"This is my father, and this is his sugar daddy."

tanoraqui

I kinda wanna say he goes by “Wen Yuan” more often bc he’s 100% the baby of the entire remaining Wen clan there, but his adult name or w/e it’s called IS Wen Sizhui, because WWX asked LWJ if he had any suggestions and LWJ said this while maintaining eye contact

professorsparklepants

OH MY GOOOOOOD

tanoraqui

They meet LXC and he figures out what’s going on in like 4 minutes, despite the teens’ best attempts at obfuscation, and instead of calling anyone’s parents is like, “okay, I’m in”

professorsparklepants

#1 wingman...

tanoraqui

Jin Ling and Wen Yuan are definitely both traveling under false names, too? Wen Yuan obviously can’t admit to being a Wen and Jin Ling is making a privileged but slightly helicoptered teen’s rebellious bid for freedom

professorsparklepants

His dad is panicking at home and Yanli is like "boys need their freedom :)"

I saw a post forever ago about how Yanli would be the most hands off parent & Zixuan is an only child who would panic every time his kid fell down

tanoraqui

With a side order of “my mother is the only one who’ll say nice things about the Yiling Patriarch and she always looks sad when she does so I’m going to sneak into the Burial Mountain and either drag him out to see her or force my parents to come get me”

professorsparklepants

"I'm gonna beat up the Yiling Patriarch" "why" "he made my mom sad" "okay proceed"

tanoraqui

^ actual real conversation with WenYuan

professorsparklepants

A-Yuan then repeats the same thing to Wen Qing and she has the exact same answer, verbatim

tanoraqui

Side note: Wen Yuan has never been scared of the undead in his entire life, and probably this will lead to getting into severely life-threatening situations when he doesn’t have more backup than 2 other teenagers

professorsparklepants

Oh absolutely

professorsparklepants

He's so used to tuning out the sound of sentry corpses that one jumps on him and almost punches his lungs out

tanoraqui

Also what if he took WWX’s sword, so he looks like a proper normal cultivator - honestly, what if WWX gave him the sword when he turned 12, or whenever one customarily gives a child a sword in this world. He also has a flute stashed in his robe somewhere but he does know how to use both

tanoraqui

But also, while obviously it’s very important that this is the sword he inherited from his father, it’s never OCCURRED to him to, like, strongly associate it with WWX, in terms of “this would be a recognizable weapon”? Chenqing the flute, obviously, but WWX just left the sword on a shelf all the time

professorsparklepants

He's very good at fooling people into thinking he's a normal rogue cultivator until he busts out the flute

LOL YES

tanoraqui

So the first time someone looks at him and is like, “That is WWX’s sword” he achieves, like, “Who’s Morales? [NOT THAT DUMB]” levels of blank-brained

professorsparklepants

It like, doesn't even occur to him that this stick named whatever will be recognizable to people until it actually happens

"this is the Yiling Patriarch's sword!" "... I've never heard of him"

tanoraqui

“What sword?”

professorsparklepants

KDJAKSNJS

tanoraqui

“Oh, THIS sword? I...found it. In a stream.”

tanoraqui

Also...at some point...once the teens have admitted their identities to one another...and possibly gotten into a couple other increasingly public shenanigans...they run into a bunch of concerned people searching from the Jin or even Jiang sect - JC being there would be PERFECT - and Jin Ling is like, “aaahh, no, I don’t want to be dragged home... kidnap me.”

WY: what?

JL: pull out the flute, summon a couple corpses, shout that you’re the dread son of the Yiling Patriarch, and pretend to kidnap me

WY: ...yeah okay

AND THEN THEY DO THAT

professorsparklepants

The dumbass energy...... off the CHARTS

tanoraqui

They’re 15 and neither of them has ever faced consequences but in...actually not too different ways

They’re 15 and neither of them as ever faced consequences nor most of the real world

Oh my god is Lan Jingyi the most sensible person here

They’re going to DIE

professorsparklepants

JXHAKAJAKKQHSJA

JC and Yanli immediately see through this probably

"dumbass kid just doesn't want to go home. I'll break his legs."

tanoraqui

I think Yanli does but I have minimal faith in JC’s ability to think logically at any time

He’s still angry at WWX for leaving

professorsparklepants

Stomps to Yiling to demand his nephew back & wwx's like "lol, A-Yuan left two months ago"

Okay my shift is starting later

tanoraqui

/snort

Though, bold of you to assume that WWX isn’t also running around anxiously somewhere like “oh god, oh no, my son is missing; I must find him”

professorsparklepants

Sizhui is a responsible boy, I don't think he would leave without telling at least ONE person where he was going

tanoraqui

Ok but it was Wen Qing who thinks it’s good for WWX’s health to stop brooding and go run around like a headless chicken instead, optimally if he runs into his totally-not-a-boyfriend-Hahahaha-why-would-you-say-that

Alternately it was, like, Granny, which, ditto

No one on this mountain is going to stop WWX from going out to cause trouble and hopefully get laid, is my point

tanoraqui

Also, the cultivation world has been basically at peace for 13 years and the reason is that this is an ideal AU where JGY is dead and whenever trouble starts to stir politically, NHS and JYL meet eyes across the room and mentally Rock Paper Scissors over who has to manipulate everyone into calming the fuck down

Neither of them actually wants this job; they’re just good at it and recognize both those aspects in each other

professorsparklepants

LOLOLOL

That is.... so goddamn in character

tanoraqui

concept: JYL and NHS are friends and no one else understands it, or attributes it to JYL just being that nice, bc NHS still generally acts useless

professorsparklepants

Nhs actively wants to be useless and life is conspiring to make sure he can't

tanoraqui

a little less dramatically useless, but why ruin a good thing when you're having fun and it's useful

professorsparklepants

Lol

tanoraqui

but JYL fucking identified him as Actually Competent one time when he couldn't hide it, so now sometimes they get tea together and bitch about politics and stupid people

professorsparklepants

He's the only person who can correctly identify when she's talking shit about people, because it's VERY subtle and her brothers & husband are too busy thinking she hung the moon to notice

tanoraqui

JYL striding into Nie sect HQ (whatever it's called) and tossing her coat over a chair. "You would not BELIEVE what my brothers are doing now."

NHS: *probably knows, because he's found that the minor investment of effort in maintaining a very good spy network pays major dividends in helping him avoid greater work* *immediately sits up and pours her a cup of very expensive tea* Oh, girl, dish.

professorsparklepants

Question: are they also friends with lwj...

tanoraqui

yes but he's obviously not invited to hte political gossip sessions

professorsparklepants

I'm trying to imagine lwj making eye contact with them at some meeting his brother dragged him to and both of them struggling not to break into hysterics

tanoraqui

but they both know that he sneaks into Yiling to visit WWX a few times a year, and every single time, JYL sits him down within a couple weeks and aggressively debriefs him as to her brother's condition

professorsparklepants

I'm sure she tried to get him to take treats in

tanoraqui

for sure

it's hopeless, though, bc there's no really predicting WHEN he'll go? It's basically just "every 4-6 months when LWJ's resolve breaks"

professorsparklepants

Too bad she's not a stress quilter instead of a stress baker

tanoraqui

she gets him to go at an actual arranged time, bearing pork soup, like once, for WWX's 30th birthday or something

professorsparklepants

tanoraqui

omg lit brain: LWJ of course is hte WORST for getting gossip, but JYL has pieced together a reasonable amount about the people her idiot baby brother (#2) is now living with. And she's mildly despairing as to idiot baby brother #1's ongoing refusal to get married and have an heir or three. So she, if not actively connives, then certainly siezes the first available opportunity to set Jiang Cheng up with Wen Qing

tanoraqui

basically, this au is PEAK romcom

tanoraqui

...also, for max happiness, i'd like to think that WWX made some strategic raids to rescue additional Wen refugees and bring them back, so there's a properly populated village and they didn't all just die

professorsparklepants

!!!

Good... Good thoughts

Good because 1. more people die and 2. The Yiling Patriarch will attack your village and steal your people away!

tanoraqui

(romcom being exclusively adults-focussed; the teens initiate it all but Jin Ling and Wen Yuan are both so delighted to have an Additional (But Cooler) Family Member that they comfortably cousinzone each other instantly)

professorsparklepants

*nice*

tanoraqui

...i feel like i keep characterizing Jin Ling as an only child, when really he ought to have a small horde of siblings

maybe they just...couldn't conceive more. shit happens. pregnancy is hard.

professorsparklepants

That happens sometimes

#mdzs #the untamed #ficlet #my fic #lan sizhui #jin ling #lan jingyi #(not actually here much; rip)#wen ning #wei wuxian #lan wangji #jiang yanli #nie huaisang #lan xichen #wen qing

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queenofmoons67 · 3 years

Note

Could you do a nmj perspective of Upon the Qinghe Mountains🥺👉👈

i've been thinking about doing this since i first wrote "Upon the Qinghe Mountains," so thank you for the excuse!

for those who haven't read the original fic, i do recommend reading it first. you can find it here. the gist of it is that i wrote a platonic NHS & NMJ Hanahaki AU!

When Nie Mingjue looked back on the previous weeks, he couldn’t say what exactly prompted him to insist on Huaisang joining him for Xichen's Cleansing. The bags, growing and growing under Huaisang’s eyes? The way his brother’s cough had worsened?

Maybe, a vicious voice would whisper, he had noticed how Huaisang avoided him, and the disciples watched with worry, and some part of him had known all along that he was killing his brother.

But when that happened, all Nie Mingjue had to do was look at Huaisang to remember his own reaction the day it all happened, and he knew in his heart that he’d had no idea. And wasn’t that almost worse than knowing?

Nie Mingjue was trying not to doze off listening to Cleansing for the fifth time in a row when he heard it: A cough. He looked to Huaisang, a reprimand already on his lips, but at the sight of his brother, he jolted to his feet and Xichen stopped playing.

“Huaisang?” Nie Mingjue questioned, going to where his brother was bent over, hand at his throat and coughing. “Huaisang, what’s wrong?”

Huaisang ignored him—and then, with a sickening lurch, Huaisang threw up. Nie Mingjue dodged to the side, both to avoid the sick and to help pull his brother’s hair out of the way, but what came up wasn’t what he expected.

“Are those… flowers?” he asked, stunned, as he looked at the green and yellow flowers. He wasn’t sure what kind they were—Huaisang would know—but they were whole and surrounded by vines and blood, and though Nie Mingjue had never seen it before, he knew instantly what he was looking at.

Of course both of them would be attacked by their cores. Of course.

Bowing his head, Nie Mingjue allowed himself a single moment of grief—and then he leapt to catch Huaisang as he passed out.

“Xichen!” he barked.

“Here,” Xichen said, already at his side, using his sleeve to wipe the blood and sick from Huaisang’s lips. “He needs a doctor.”

“Here, Zongzhu,” a voice said, and Nie Mingjue caught the eye of the sect doctor as he came around. He had his kit and everything already out and prepped, and Nie Mingjue’s stomach clenched. The doctor had come prepared. How? Nie Mingjue hadn’t sent for him, and neither had Xichen—

The door closed, and he looked up to see a Nie disciple slipping back into place to guard the room.

Either he had incredible instincts, or the entire sect had been aware of Huaisang’s illness and had neglected to tell him. There was only one reason he could think of that would prompt that: They were protecting one of their own.

Nie Mingjue’s heart worked double-time as he fought to control his qi. The last thing Huaisang needed was the doctor split between the two of them if he had a qi deviation right then and there.

“Xichen,” he growled. “Take A-Sang to his room and watch over him. I’m going to hunt out who rejected him.”

“A-Jue—“

But Nie Mingjue was already gone.

Hours passed as he interrogated disciple after disciple, trying to figure out who could have possibly hurt his brother like this. Without fail, though, each and every one refused to give him a name. They acknowledged they knew about Huaisang’s Hanaki, that the loved one was indeed someone within the sect, but beyond that—nothing.

Nie Mingjue hadn’t been so furious since Wen Ruohan had still been alive.

But with all options exhausted beyond torturing his own disciples, he had nothing left to do but wait until Huaisang woke up—and wake up he would. Nie Mingjue’s didi was nothing if not stubborn.

Storming to Huaisang’s room, though, proved that there was another option. A horrible, terrible option.

“Da-ge? Er-ge, he—,” Huaisang was saying. “Er-ge, Da-ge’s the reason I have Hanahaki.”

Huaisang might as well have resurrected Wen Ruohan himself, Nie Mingjue felt so stunned. He—he was the one? Huaisang thought—

He covered his mouth, and found his face wet. He was crying? Of course he was crying. He—Huaisang—A-Sang—his didi—

Had Nie Mingjue been so cruel? He must have. Even as he thought, he couldn’t remember the last time he and Huaisang had spent time together, besides listening to Xichen play. Loneliness could be as deadly a weapon as any, and Nie Mingjue wasn’t shy to raise his voice, either.

But Nie Mingjue was there now, though. And he would never leave again.

Wiping away his tears, he tuned back in to the conversation in time to hear Xichen say, “I’m going to have a servant fetch him, and you two are going to have a long talk. I won’t let either of you out until you do.”

“That won’t be necessary, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue said, stepping into the room. A talk was past-due. Nie Mingjue wouldn’t allow himself to leave until it wasn’t.

By the end of their talk, Nie Mingjue and Huaisang were both in tears—but they were also hugging for the first time in weeks, so Nie Mingjue would call it a win.

#nie brothers #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #mdzs #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #cql #mdzs fic #fanfic #my fic #mine #writing prompt #anonymous #anon

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baoshan-sanren · 4 years

Text

Chapter 33

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling “Wei Ying, you’re so stupid”

HuaiSang is angry.

Wei Ying passes him the jar as often as possible, hoping that the wine may mellow him out. Three jars later however, Jiang Cheng is leaning slightly sideways even while sitting down, Wei Ying is beginning to see two of everything, but HuaiSang’s anger is still present, an unpleasant fourth addition to their drinking circle.

The fire had been put out; the stench of burning lays heavy over the majority of the Immortal Mountain City, and although Wei Ying had washed up and changed his robes twice, it seems to linger at the back of his throat, bitterly mixing with the sweetness of the wine.

Lan QiRen is unharmed. No one else has been hurt. All in all, for an incident that could have claimed dozens of lives, a small palace burned to the ground is the best possible outcome they could have hoped for.

A-Sang swears. Explicitly.

Wei Ying does not think that fucking the arsonist’s ancestors to the eighteenth generation will do anyone any good, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“I should have doubled his guard,” A-Sang says.

Wei Ying says nothing to this either.

Two separate traps had been set. They had required time, and planning, and full cooperation by the people in the Immortal Mountain that A-Sang actually trusts. Unfortunately, the number of people A-Sang trusts is limited, and nearly half of them had been to sent to YiLing.

They had given the assassin three targets. Two in the Immortal Mountain, and the Emperor himself, seemingly alone and unprotected in YiLing. The assassin had chosen a fourth target, something that no one could have predicted.

Except that A-Sang believes he should have predicted it, and is furious to have been outmaneuvered.

“Let us sum up what we know,” Wei Ying says.

Jiang Cheng groans, “Not again.”

“Yes, again,” A-Sang says, snatching the jar out of his hands, “We should go over the information we have as many times as necessary. We are obviously missing something.”

Jiang Cheng groans again, and keels over, sprawling on the floor. Unlike Wei Ying, he has not had a chance to wash up or change before being pulled into A-Sang’s chambers. Earlier in the day, A-Sang had stuffed him in the Emperor’s robes to play the bait, but now the robes are singed and filthy, and will likely need to be thrown away.

Wei Ying wonders if this is where the lingering scent of stale smoke is coming from.

“Do we agree that nothing suspicious occurred before the Lan Sect arrived?” A-Sang says.

They have gone over this already, but Wei Ying forces himself to think about it again.

“There was nothing,” Jiang Cheng mutters from the floor.

“Nothing,” Wei Ying agrees firmly, “nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Good,” A-Sang says, “then we start at the beginning. The Lan Sect arrives the night before the first day of the festival. They are escorted into the Immortal Mountain by da-ge. They settle into the Peach Blossom Pavilion. Wei Ying goes to liberate the Six Fans Pavilion of its hidden stash of the Emperor’s Smile. Lan WangJi sees him running across the rooftops, and tries to stab him. A decision I still respect, by the way.”

Jiang Cheng snorts.

“Day one,” A-Sang goes on, “the Greeting Ceremony, during which Wei Ying blatantly ogles Lan WangJi--“

“Hey!” Wei Ying exclaims.

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng says, invisible on the other side of the table, “You did do that.”

“--then the Sect Leader meeting, during which Wei Ying displays obvious favoritism toward the Lan Sect, ensuring that even those sect leaders who had been ambivalent before, now have an entirely new set of reasons to despise them,” A-Sang says.

Wei Ying buries his head in his hands.

“Then the banquet, where Wei Ying singles out Lan WangJi again.”

“I just wanted to talk to him,” Wei Ying groans through his fingers.

“Do not forget the part where Wei WuXian drinks so much that he tries to piss into a potted plant,” Jiang Cheng adds.

Wei Ying snatches the jar out of A-Sang’s hands, “I thought we were talking about suspicious events.”

“He is right,” A-Sang nudges Jiang Cheng with his foot, “the Emperor getting stumbling drunk and trying to piss in inappropriate places is hardly out of the ordinary.”

A snort drifts up from the floor.

Wei Ying hates them both.

“Day two,” A-Sang goes on, “The picnic. Someone tries to poison Lan WangJi. The Jin Sect tries to pin the poisoning on Lan XiChen. Two servants are killed, their bodies stuffed in the stairway of the old north-west watchtower. No poison is found in their quarters. The sword fighting competition is postponed. Day three. The Immortal Mountain is searched top to bottom. All the servants are questioned. All the sects willingly submit to the search. Nothing suspicious is found. The Council decides it is safe to resume the competition the following day. The Emperor goes pining across the rooftops until Lan WangJi pays attention to him. He tells Lan WangJi that he means to enter the competition in secret. Lan WangJi tells his uncle and brother. The only other people aware of the ruse are A-Cheng, shijie, Wen Qing, and myself.”

“I did not pine,” Wei Ying grumbles.

“Day four,” A-Sang says, ignoring him, “Every sect and clan is present at the competition. The Lan Sect arrives on time, and is placed at the Nie Sect table. Lan XiChen fights da-ge and wins. The Emperor almost gets himself killed because he is too distracted by Lan WangJi to compete properly. An arrow from the West watchtower nearly costs the Empire its most valued subject. The Jin Sect tries to pin the assassination on the Lan Sect, again.”

“That is hardly suspicious,” Jiang Cheng says, hand reaching up to grab the wine jar, “the Jin Sect is terrible by rule.”

“Wait,” Wei Ying says, “wait. While I was competing in the West Gate courtyard I spoke to the little demon from the Nie Sect, Nie XuanYu. He said that only three of the Jin Sect disciples had signed up to compete with the rest of them, but that none had actually shown up.”

Jiang Cheng sits up suddenly, then sways.

“Gossip,” he says, then thinks for a moment, as if gathering his drunken thoughts, “There was gossip among the smaller sects about the Jin being too proud to compete in the bottom four tiers. Yao MingYu was told by one of the Jin disciples that the Jin Sect does not produce below average cultivators.”

Wei Ying snorts, “Bold of them to say that, when Fan XiaoHu keeps wiping the floor with Jin ZiXuan.”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, “that girl is a menace.”

Wei Ying bites his tongue so he would not laugh. He had forgotten that Fan XiaoHu had wiped the floor with Jiang Cheng a few times too.

A-Sang taps the table with his fan, “Focus! Who has the list? A record must be kept of those who signed up to compete, whether they ended up participating or not.”

“Uncle Jiang should have it,” Wei Ying says, his heart immediately sinking.

He still needs to have a very unpleasant conversation with his High Councilor, one he is definitely not looking forward to having.

“Good,” A-Sang says, “We must get our hands on this list. See? We are making progress. Where are we now? Ah, yes. Day four. The day I was almost killed.”

Wei Ying is pretty sure that he is managing to look sufficiently contrite. Jiang Cheng only looks drunk and disgruntled.

“The Jin Sect tries to blame the assassination attempt on the Lan Sect. Lan QiRen reveals a note warning him to remove the Young Masters from the Immortal Mountain. A note that was placed in the Peach Blossom Pavilion before their arrival. Wei Ying cannot seem to keep away from Lan WangJi, even at the cost of ruining his virtue and good name--“ A-Sang points his fan at Wei Ying’s half-opened mouth, “and I am specifically speaking of Lan WangJi’s virtue and good name, because Heavens know you have none.”

Jiang Cheng chokes on the wine, adding more stains to the already ruined Imperial robes.

“Anyway,” A-Sang says, snatching the jar back, “this brings us to day five. Which is today.”

Jiang Cheng drops his forehead onto the table, “These have been the longest five days of my life.”

“Hey,” A-Sang snaps, whacking him on the back of the head with his fan, “Has anyone tried to kill you? No? Then stop complaining.”

Jiang Cheng half-heartedly pushes the fan away, but does not lift his head.

“Day five,” A-Sang repeats, “This faithful subject bears the agony of a deadly, grievous wound, obtained in the service to the Emperor, to take control of the situation. Two traps are set in motion. The first is set in the Imperial Gardens, the second in the North Watchtower. If the assassin has connections among the major sects, he should have fallen into the first trap. If he has connections among the smaller sects, he should have fallen into the second. If he has eyes and ears among those we explicitly trust, he should have gone after Wei Ying. But instead, the assassin opts to kill Lan QiRen.”

“So the assassin does not belong to any of the sects,” Wei Ying says, “otherwise, he would have walked into one of the traps.”

“Not true,” A-Sang says, his voice hardening, “it is also possible that the assassin saw three targets as clearly as we had presented them, and having no way to discern which one was real, had simply decided on the fourth. We also now know where his priorities lie. I no longer believe that the purpose of the second assassination attempt was to kill the Emperor. I think it was only meant to frame the Lan Sect for his murder, which would have been a death sentence in itself.”

Jiang Cheng lifts his head, “You think all of this is just-- to kill the Lan Sect? Why? Why would someone go through so much trouble to kill them?”

A-Sang does not have an answer to that.

“Any words from the Wen Sect?” he asks instead, and Wei Ying shakes his head.

His own message had gone out to Wen RuoHan only a day ago; it is much too soon for a response.

He takes the jar back from A-Sang, but finds it empty, and fumbles around for the last full one, still stashed underneath the table.

“Lan QiRen probably hates me even more now,” he grumbles, “I will be lucky if he still allows Lan Zhan to marry me after this debacle.”

The wine tastes less bitter now. He cannot tell if the stench of burning has grown less, or if he is finally too drunk to notice. He offers Jiang Cheng the jar, only to find Jiang Cheng staring at him with a wide, incredulous gaze, devoid of the earlier drunkenness.

“What?” Wei Ying says.

“Repeat what you just said,” A-Sang says slowly, his voice careful.

Wei Ying blinks at him and thinks back. His head is swimming a little bit, but he is not yet so drunk that he should be speaking nonsense.

“What?”

“Before that,” A-Sang says.

“Lan QiRen hates me? He will probably refuse to--“ Wei Ying chokes slightly, “--Oh. Erm. I-- we did not speak of this yet, have we?”

“You intending to marry?” A-Sang says sweetly, snapping his fan open, “No. It seems you had forgotten to mention that little detail. To me. Your Royal Companion.”

“Or me,” Jiang Cheng growls.

“Uh, this--” Wei Ying fumbles, “there were-- other things? You were nearly killed! I was-- uh-- distracted?”

“But not too distracted to decide to marry.”

“You have known him for five days!” Jiang Cheng bursts out.

“Hey!” Wei Ying snaps back, “These have been-- very long five days! You said so yourself!”

“Who else knows?” A-Sang asks.

Wei Ying wishes that A-Sang would yell at him. At least then, this may actually be a little less awkward, and he may feel a little less guilty.

“No one,” he says quickly, “only Lan QiRen.”

“Lan WangJi does not know? You have not asked him?”

“No, I-- I thought I should speak to his uncle first. It is the proper thing to do.”

“The proper thing to do,” A-Sang repeats.

“Yes,” Wei Ying says, feeling defensive, “Lan Zhan loves his uncle. If Lan QiRen disapproved, Lan Zhan would never agree.”

“You cannot just-- go around asking people to marry you!” Jiang Cheng exclaims, “You idiot! There are rules! Traditions! People who must be informed ahead of time! The Council--!“

“I am not going to ask the Council for an approval to marry,” Wei Ying snaps, indignant, “Lan Zan is the Second Young Master of the Gusu Lan Sect, not some farmer I picked up in YiLing.”

“He is the Second Young Master of the Gusu Lan Sect!” Jiang Cheng shouts loud enough to make A-Sang flinch, “The Lan Sect! Do not play stupid about this!”

“I am the Emperor!” Wei Ying thunders, “I make the rules and the traditions! The Council exists because I allow it to exist!”

The empty wine jar flies across the room and shatters on the door frame, making them both flinch.

A-Sang closes his fan.

“Are you both done?” he asks.

Jiang Cheng opens his mouth, but closes it when A-Sang turns to him with raised eyebrows.

Wei Ying, who knows better, remains quiet.

There is a short, uncomfortable silence, interrupted only by A-Sang’s fan tapping on the table. Finally he sighs.

“We have leverage to use against the Council. Admittedly, I never thought to use it in this way, but it will certainly not be a waste if you are determined to marry him.”

“I am,” Wei Ying says immediately.

Jiang Cheng opens his mouth again, but A-Sang smacks his knuckles with the fan, silencing him, “Shut up. Use your head. If the Emperor marries a Second Young Master of a traitor sect, this sets a precedent. One that you, in particular, might find useful.”

Jiang Cheng splutters, his face turning red.

“Can this wait until we have caught the assassin?” A-Sang asks.

Wei Ying squirms, “I did try to speak to him in YiLing, but I may not have made myself as clear as I should have, so-- if I do not ask him to marry me, he is likely to assume that I do not have honorable intentions. Towards him. In the future.”

“You are so stupid,” Jiang Cheng mutters, squeezing his eyes shut.

“A-Cheng is right,” A-Sang says, “You have been very stupid about this. You should have come to me first, before talking to Lan QiRen.”

“In my defense,” Wei Ying says, “I did not plan to speak to Lan QiRen when I did, it just-- happened.”

Jiang Cheng groans, turning to A-Sang, “How is he the Emperor? How?”

“The Heavens watch out for the idiots, because the rest of us can watch out for ourselves,” A-Sang says promptly.

“Okay,” Wei Ying says, “Okay. Can we, just-- move past this?”

“No,” A-Sang says, “I am fairly certain that we will speak of nothing else but your stupidity for the remainder of the night.”

“Fine,” Wei Ying says, getting up, “I am going to find Lan Zhan. You know, the man I am going to marry. Who does not think I am stupid.”

“Would you like to place a wager on that?” Jiang Cheng mutters, and A-Sang smacks his knuckles again.

“I want the list of the Jin Sect disciples first thing in the morning,” A-Sang reminds him.

Wei Ying flaps his hand in acknowledgment. He is a little unsteady, but manages to find the door without too much fumbling.

Jiang Cheng’s voice follows him out, “Try and not piss in any flower pots!”

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #ficlet #m #wwx emperor au #long chapter in which nothing much happens #except that wei ying is stupid #this chapter is clumsy af #but if i keep rewriting it it'll never get posted #and we gotta move on #anyway #thank you for all the nice messages and tags and comments #ily chickens

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nillegible · 4 years

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Not Death, but Sleep

(A 3zun fix-it fic)

‘Not death, but sleep,’ the story went. The little well spirit, too weak to break the death-curse that a greater dark spirit that had placed over the innocent baby, had pressed her hand to the infant’s forehead. She had poured all her soul into a single blessing, all her strength for one thing only; that the child would sleep, not die.

“Why couldn’t she practice and grow stronger?” Meng Yao would ask, and Mother would laugh and poke his cheek and tell him that well-spirits are very small, but she tried her best. The story always sat wrongly with Meng Yao. Back then it had, at least. It was not fair that the well spirit couldn’t fix what was wrong. It wasn’t fair that the princess had been cursed as a baby, before she’d done anything to deserve it. It wasn’t fair that the queen couldn’t find anyone but a forgotten little well-spirit to try to save her child. “It’s not fair,” he’d tell her, each time the well-spirit blessed the infant and fell short of her desire, and each time his mother would smile.

“Ah, my precious A-Yao, you are right. But the world is not fair, and she could only do what she could do.” Mother would say, smiling in that soft way of hers, pinching his cheek lightly, before she continued the story. “Because it seemed hopeless, the king demanded that every spindle in the land be…”

Meng Yao Jin Guangyao likes the story no better now, but he understands more than he did back then. Jin Guangyao was also too weak. “She could only do what she could,” Mother would say, and he now understands the heartbreak of that being not enough.

“I want you to kill Nie Mingjue,” Father had told him, two weeks ago, now. His voice had been low but pleasant, like he’d only been asking Jin Guangyao to pour him more tea.

“Father, I’m trying to get him to stop asking about Xue Yang, I’m sure that I can–”

“I have given you time. And it is not just that boy. Nie Mingjue grows troublesome in other matters as well, he seeks to destabilize me at every turn. You will remove him.” His voice had stayed pleasant. His eyes had glittered coldly with warning: Jin Guangyao was far less valuable than a Sect Leader, and would be far far easier to dispose of.

“I understand Father. I will take care of it,” Jin Guangao had said, and has not had a moment’s peace since.

It doesn’t take him long to decide on a method.

Or rather, it’s not long before the ideal method is dropped straight into his lap. Er-ge requests a favor, asks him to please learn Cleansing, a powerful Lan sect technique to clear resentment and settle an unquiet spirit. Nie Mingjue’s temper and health were in decline, and Er-ge wants Jin Guangyao to help him heal. His hope – that this would give them an opportunity to mend the broken trust and friendship between them – was transparently obvious, but Jin Guangyao has never found place in his heart to deny this man anything.

“We can help him, A-Yao. We must. Da-ge is not himself, and we need to… We cannot lose him.”

Lying is no harder than speaking, for Meng Yao, but this time the lie tears into his lungs. “Of course, Er-ge. His brothers will support him until he is well again.” I’ve been asked to kill him, Er-ge. Why would you trust me with this?

It does not matter that he does not want to do it. Jin Guangyao practices Cleansing at Qinghe under Lan Xichen’s careful tutelage. At Lanling, he spends sleepless nights perfecting a darker, foreign melody, meant to tear someone’s sanity apart.

His heart is troubled, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the lack of sleep, the discordant notes he coaxes from his guqin each night, or the cold, lingering gaze of his Father that seems to ask, have you begun? Will he die?

The answer is yes. Yes, Jin Guangyao will kill him, because he has been asked. Because when it comes down to it, he is the dark spirit that had lost its way, and would destroy someone who was undeserving of the malice. Someone who was loved.

The first time that Jin Guangyao plays the piece for Nie Mingjue, his heart pounds in fear while his hands elegantly play the butchered, chimeric tune. He’s afraid that his eldest sworn brother would notice the difference in the song, would notice that it felt wrong, even after the last note is played and lingers in the room as he looks up to meet Nie Mingjue’s eyes. But Nie Mingjue, even tenser and more ill-tempered than he was before Jin Guangyao started to play, just nods and thanks him shortly and walks away.

It’s terribly rude; Jin Guangyao would be injured by such treatment on any other day.

Today, he has begun slowly killing the man. He will not take insult.

Jin Guangyao spends his time after returning to Lanling terribly nervous, unable to focus as usual. Perhaps Nie Mingjue had not confronted him immediately, but would reached out to Lan Xichen with his suspicions?

His fears are unfounded; a letter arrives for him a week later from Sect Leader Nie. Could he trouble Jin Guangyao to return and play for him soon? He did not wish to disturb their second brother, who was still busy with the rebuilding of his sect.

Jin Guangyao promptly sends a response: He would be honoured to help, he would make the time to visit as soon as possible. (His fingers do not tremble on the guqin strings as he practices the song alone, in preparation. He wonders at the monster he’s become.)

It’s while he’s playing for Nie Mingjue the second time that it happens. His eldest sworn brother is doing his best to relax – there’s incense, and the tea they were served has calming properties – but Jin Guangyao’s music is doing as intended, and Nie Mingjue’s face is visibly tense, his jaw locked, and the longer it goes on the worse it gets.

It’s partly the music, partly the frustration that he isn’t calming down as he should be. Jin Guangyao imagines that it is not unlike the panic that insomnia brings him, the desperate desire to just fall asleep making him anxious enough to drive any semblance of rest from him as he lies awake in the dark.

His fingers fumble on the strings and he stops, startled. Nie Mingjue’s eyes open and he looks to him questioningly. “Is something wrong, Meng Yao?”

It’s the wrong name. Always the wrong name. But at the moment, for what he wishes, it may just be the right one. Nie Mingjue has wronged Meng Yao many times, but Nie Mingjue was also the one who had defended him from cultivators who taunted and mistreated him. Nie Mingjue was the first person to value him, to give him a chance to prove his worth, and then acknowledged that he did well.

It was because the queen had swept the well-spirit’s forgotten shrine, Jin Guangao remembers. That was why the well-spirit stepped up to divert the curse.

He stares a moment longer at Nie Mingjue, long enough that he frowns, and this time Jin Guangao imagines his brows are creasing in worry not anger. “Are you alright, you’ve gone pale.” His voice still betrays his temper; a barely contained inferno, but Jin Guangyao is partially to blame for that.

“Forgive, me, Da-ge. May I start again?”

“If you need a break, you can have one. You can play for me later,” Nie Mingjue says.

“No, please, close your eyes again. I merely realized something.”

Still looking faintly suspicious, Nie Mingjue does as asked and shuts his eyes.

Jin Guangyao sets his fingers to the guqin and plays again. This time the music is simple and clear, lifting and rejuvenating. When Jin Guangyao plays the last notes and looks up, the anger has melted away from his sworn brother. He’s smiling faintly, and Jin Guangyao’s eyes catch on the softness of it.

When Nie Mingjue opens his eyes, and sees Jin Guangyao watching, the smile doesn’t fade. “You figured something out, didn’t you? This time felt so much better.”

“Yes, Da-ge. I was a poor student, Er-ge will not be pleased with me for taking so long… but I understand now.”

“Xichen will never be displeased with you, that you play it so well without the Lan’s rigorous training is a credit to your skills. And I thank you,” Nie Mingjue says. He breathes deep, as if enjoying that he can. That faint smile has still not vanished. “I am much improved.”

Jin Guangao knows. The spiritual power of Cleansing is considerable, and when played correctly and regularly it could bolster Nie Mingjue’s spirit and life for decades longer.

“You’re welcome Da-ge. I promise. I promise to do what I can to help you.” And this promise is not a lie, not a vow he means to break.

Father wants Nie Mingjue dead, and Jin Guangao does not have the means to stop him.

But he can divert the curse.

Not death, but sleep.

That, Jin Guangao can do.

[Author’s Note: The particular form of the sleeping beauty story used here I got from Vathara’s fic Embers! It’s a gorgeous version and I love it.

Somehow an old post of mine, where I said I should write a fic about MY hiding NMJ away and faking his death to appease JGS popped back up? I’d completely forgotten about it. But well, it’s a lovely idea, so I thought I’d start on it! I hope you liked the fic!]

#meng yao #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #mdzs #the untamed #fairy tale castle #fix-it #3zun fix-it #nieyao #nielan #sleeping beauty

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heavymetalchemist · 4 years

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Meng Yao/Jin Guangyao is a good villain and well-written (and well-acted by Zhu Zanjin) and I hate him, I hate him so FUCKING much.

The thing about MY/JGY is that he’s an entitled asshole, he’s entitled even when he is still Meng Yao. Like if he were a modern person in modern times I’d be getting real strong “Nice Guy(tm)” vibes off of him, THAT kind of entitled. Or like, “Pick-Up Artist” entitled. One of the ones that then goes on a shooting spree, perhaps. And you know what, a lot of that is due to his mom feeding him all these stories about how his dad is the ~*~fancy famous cultivator~*~ and how he has the RIGHT to be claimed as his son and be a cultivator himself.

Now look, I don’t blame the woman for wanting the best for her son, that’s a good parent thing, but it’s also like… you fed him lies. Literally! Jin Guangshan is a piece of shit who doesn’t like to acknowledge his illegitimate kids because he’s a massive slut who is simultaneously terrified of his legitimate wife, and also has zero plans to have any competition for his legitimate son, who is obviously favored and pampered as fuck. This lady is straight-up delusional to think that he’s somehow going to accept her bastard child. I’m sorry, but she is. Literally the only way it happens is for him to assassinate the most powerful cultivator of their times at the peak of a war to destroy an entire clan. And EVEN THEN he still gets treated like shit! He still gets given a courtesy name that’s a lazy derivative of his birth name and not even the right generational-poem-prefix!!

But MY/JGY doesn’t even fucking CARE because he’s ENTITLED to having power and prestige and this position and he’s angry about it and willing to do ANYTHING, ANYTHING to get it! A N Y T H I N G. You know what he could have done instead?

Been a rogue cultivator

Actually appreciated and stuck with his role in the Nie clan

Joined a goddamn temple like the one Song Lan is from

Joined a smaller sect, especially since during/after the Sunshot campaign most sects were looking for recruits to replace dead cultivators

Started his own sect, fuck it! Fucking Su She managed to do this!

He had options! HE HAD OPTIONS. But nooooooooooo he had to get the power of the Jin sect because that was his DUE. That’s what he was OWED. But not because he felt any goddamn filial piety because he fucking murdered his own father so obviously it wasn’t that big a goddamn deal.

This guy has the fucking gall to go ohhhhh I didn’t have a choice when he absolutely did, it’s just that the other choices would have required him giving up some power or privilege, and he just COULDN’T DO THAT. You know what I definitely think that he had fun torturing and killing people for Wen Ruohan and I definitely think he was ready to stab some Nie cultivators and I definitely think that he waited until he had Nie Mingjue there to actually witness him kill Wen Ruohan because otherwise he wouldn’t get the CREDIT. Because that was the REALLY important part. Remember how he murdered someone before over credit? YEAH.

And FURTHERMORE I think that if WWX hadn’t turned the tide of that battle with his fucking Stygian Tiger Amulet that Meng Yao would have leaned into serving Wen Ruohan because he doesn’t CARE about doing the right thing, only about the life of power and privilege he’s convinced he deserves to have, and he’ll get it one way or another. If the Wens won that war he’d be with the Wens.

He has no moral backbone. Everyone else is the villain and he is the victim. He will throw anyone - LITERALLY ANYONE - under the bus.

And this INCLUDES Lan Xichen by the way. His whole “but I’d never hurt you!” speech is true! You know why? Because Lan Xichen is a fucking paragon of kindness and JGY had him wrapped around his little finger, utterly convinced that whatever bad things he’d done had been for “good reasons” and as long as JGY kept the wool pulled over LXC’s eyes, he would always be his loyal friend. But you know what? Someone who would murder THEIR OWN SMALL CHILD definitely would not hesitate to turn around and stab their best friend and sworn brother if one day LXC ever seemed like he was going to expose JGY. You think JGY would have sat back and let him bring him to justice? HELL NO. JGY would have tried to manipulate him back to his side, for sure, but if LXC was adamant? Yeah no he’s dead. He’s fucking dead. His head is in the same sealed box as NMJ, and sometimes JGY goes and sits in his treasure room and “has tea” with his sworn brothers, making weird little comments about them watching him and rationalizing his actions to himself over and over.

JGY is an awful person and was awful from day fucking one, he was not better when he was Meng Yao, I absolutely 10/10 think he manipulated his way up the Nie sect ranks with the explicit plan of getting powerful allies to get an in with JGS so he could claim all that sweet, sweet Jin sect power for himself. You look at his goddamn face after being kicked down the stairs the first time and tell me I’m fucking wrong.

Does this mean every single thing he’s ever done is awful? No. But that’s the thing about people, it turns out you can be absolutely terrible and yet still do good things. Anyway cry to me about the good things he did after you explain how it was right for him to murder his five year old son just in CASE he was kind of slow because then MAYBE someone would PERHAPS figure out he fucked his own sister.

#jin guangyao #mdzs meta #suck it meng yao #how many people did he murder before nmj caught him?#think about THAT #now Xue Yang I can respect #because xue yang owns up to his choices #yeah I killed those people and I'm not sorry #is a lot easier for me than I killed those people in cold blood but I didn't have a choice!#especially when the choice was if I didn't kill them then no one would know how SPECIAL I AM #people are allowed to like who they like and take whatever from characters #but this is why I'm a hard no on any 3zun/nieyao/xiyao stuff #even aside from the obvious HE IS MARRIED aspect later on #he's just... the worst #any relationship with him is about HIM and what HE gets #he cannot treat others as full complete human beings #asshole has the gall to say he'd never hurt lxc after MURDERING HIS SWORN BROTHER AND CHOPPING HIM UP #why do you not think that would hurt lxc????#it's because you're terrible you're the fucking worst #he delights in torture and others' suffering #he cares only for his lust for power #fuck him forever

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demoisverysexy · 3 years

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An Open Letter to the Person who Blocked Me for Being Mormon

For context:

If you’re reading this, I hope it finds you well.

This letter is mostly for me, so I can get my feelings out. I’ve already talked about this with a few of my friends, and I’m feeling better than I was than when you blocked me. I’m still upset. Mostly because of general trends I see on tumblr of hatred for Mormons. A lot of it comes from ignorance and misunderstanding. Some of it comes from a place of genuine hurt that can’t go unaddressed. I don’t want to be dismissive of those who have faced trauma at the hands of my church. I am one of those people, and I know how deeply pain associated with my church can be. After our interaction, I felt that talking about it would help me process this.

Before I go on, I must be clear that this is not an attempt to get you to unblock me. As nice as it would be to be able to see your blog again – you’re very witty, and I enjoy your content! – I can live without it. This is more a response to the trend on tumblr specifically of hatred against Mormons, and assuming that they’re all bad people who are complicit in every single bad thing that the church does. You just happened to force me to be a little introspective about my church and my relation to it. Thank you for that.

First, however, I would like to clear up some misconceptions:

Your initial joke that prompted me to tell you I was a Mormon was a joke about Mormons and polygamy. The largest two organizations that can be classified as “Mormon,” The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and the Community of Christ (which incidentally allows for gay marriage and has female clergy, though I am of the LDS sect), both disavow polygamy. There are other, smaller offshoot Mormon groups who do still practice this, which is where horror stories of polygamists marrying teenagers arise. These people are also Mormons, though I wish they weren’t, in the same way that problematic Christian groups are Christian, though many Christians wish they weren’t.

I do recognize that mainstream Mormonism has been labeled as a cult by many people, though the reasons people provide generally don’t hold up. Often the proof that people provide of my church’s cult-like nature is to take note of corruption that can be found in almost every church. These issues – such as racism, homophobia, and misogyny, to name a few – while real and important to address do not a cult make. Sometimes the proof is to point towards practices that are demonized in my church, but are practiced in other religions with no comment, or even celebration. Other times people will point to their own experiences with toxic church congregations, and while those issues are very real, they are by no means universal. My experience growing up Mormon was a lucky one in many ways. I personally don’t think that most people who study my church from an academic vantage point would call it a cult. I would consult them on this matter. After all, someone in a cult is rather hard-pressed to be able to tell whether they are in one or not.

Another point often levied against Mormonism is how it leaves its queer members with religious trauma due to its homophobic teachings. I understand this well. I have experienced deep religious trauma associated with my political stances in favor of LGBTQ+ rights (though that wasn’t the whole story). I won’t go into detail about this right now, but suffice it to say, I had a very traumatic time on my mission that led me to a very dark place, and ended with me contemplating choices I would never be able to take back. I’m fine now of course, but I carry those memories with me.

So why would I stay despite all this? Is it because I’m brainwashed? You would have to ask a psychologist about that, but I would say probably not. I knew, and know now, that the ways I was being treated were unfair and wrong. I don’t have time to go point by point to address every grievance I or anyone else has with my church and explain my position on it, as much as I would like to clear the air once and for all on this topic so there is no misunderstanding. Here’s the reasoning that has kept me here so far:

I think that every person of faith must, at some point, deal with the problematic aspects of their church’s history and doctrine. This comes with the territory. Whether it be disturbing stories in scripture, imperialist tendencies, doctrines that chafe against us, or problematic leaders, no person of faith is exempt from wrestling with the history that accompanies their faith. I have studied my church’s history in depth. Many of the horror stories I heard were provably false. Many were true. Where does that leave me?

I believe that God is bigger and better than us. We make terrible, awful mistakes all the time. But I don’t think that makes God less willing to work with us. If anything, I think it means he wants to help us more. He wants to help us move past our histories and become better. My church has a long way to go in this regard. For too long we have been silent when it mattered, and people have been wounded by our silence. Or even the words we have said out loud! If you look at my Mormonism tag on my blog, you will see some examples of what I am talking about. I have been wounded by the things my church has said and not said. It hurts awfully, and I ache for those who have been wounded more deeply than I.

But at the same time, I cannot deny the healing my faith has brought me. Whatever problems my church has – and it has many, deep and pressing issues – it is because of my faith that I am the person I am today. I can draw a straight line from my religion to the positions I hold today. Because I am a Mormon, I became a Marxist. Because I am a Mormon, I became nonbinary. Because I am a Mormon, I became a leftist. I cannot ignore that my religion, flawed as it may be, has led me to where I stand now. I am at the intersection of the hurt and healing the church offers. It is a difficult line to walk. But I hope that in walking it, I can bring healing and love to those who hurt in the ways I do. To let them know that they are not alone, and that they have a friend who can help them wherever they choose to go.

Yes I am queer. Yes I am a Mormon. I am here because I am trying to fix things. If at some point in the future I realize that I cannot change things, perhaps I will leave. I hope it does not come to that. And things are changing. They have changed before, and they can change now. I am confident that my God is willing to lead my church where it needs to go. I hope I can help speed things along. We shall see.

But spreading unequivocal hatred and disdain for Mormons does not help those of us who are Mormon who are trying to fix things. Yes, those who have left Mormonism due to trauma need a safe place to be away from that, and acknowledging the church’s many faults can be helpful to those people. I myself have criticized my church quite vocally. But refusing to listen to the stories of those of us who choose to stay, telling others that we are evil or stupid or what have you, is also quite traumatic to us. We are people too, with thoughts and feelings. It is easy to dismiss us out of hand if you assume we aren’t.

I try to be open about my religion and political stances on my tumblr. See for yourself: It’s a mix of Mormonism, LGBTQ+ activism, Marxism, and pretty much every other leftist political position you can find. Along with all the furry stuff, of course. But despite all this, I am still terrified every time someone follows me to tell them I am Mormon. More than I am to tell them that I’m queer. Tumblr is not representative of how things work in the “real world,” of course, but I have received hatred for being a Mormon there as well. And it’s mostly other Christians. So on the one hand I’m hated by LGBTQ+ folks, on the other hand I’m hated by my church for being queer, and on the third hand (as apparently I have three hands), I am hated by other Christians. I do not face hatred to the same degree from other Christians. I saw it most on my mission. But still, it exists.

(Incidentally, Evangelicals, who you seem to have problems with, and perhaps rightly so, though I have not done a study of the matter myself, largely despise Mormons, from what I have heard. Something to consider.)

I want allies. I want help. I want understanding. If I am to push back against bigotry in my church, I need your help. I need everyone’s help. Fighting bigotry wherever we see it is a worthy pursuit, I think. And if we can succeed, we can make the world a better, safer happier place. I want to fight off the ghosts that haunt my church. You don’t have to fight them with me, but I would appreciate it if I could have your support. It would make my job much easier.

We aren’t enemies. At least, I don’t think you’re my enemy. We both have been hurt by homophobia and bigotry. We live in a capitalist hellscape where police brutality and racism are on the rise. Fascism is looming over the political backdrop, along with the ongoing threat of ecological disaster. I think we would be better off helping each other than going after each other. I ask that you please listen to us when we say you are hurting us. The Mormons you blocked knowingly followed you, an openly queer person who calls out racism and bigotry and pedophilia. Yet you assume we are in favor of those things. Someone can at once be part of an institution while recognizing it’s flaws. (Aren’t we both Americans? Why not move if we hate it so much?) And perhaps we have used the “No true Scotsman” fallacy to justify why we stay. I don’t believe I have. I don’t feel I need to.

I hope that you consider what I’ve said here. I hope we can work together. And I hope that no matter what, you find peace wherever you end up.

Yours truly,

Demo Argenti

#religion #leftism #mormonism #LGBTQ stuff #marxism #racism #misogyny #feminism #homophobia #queerstake #shouting into the void #ok to rb

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eigwayne · 3 years

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A Little Spoiled (ChengQing fic)

Chapter 2 of 4: Advice from Aunty, and a Date Some advice from one of her aunties and Granny Wen convinces Wen Qing to keep her secret rendez-vous with Jiang Wanyin. He's alternately sweet and domineering and shy and infuriating, and Wen Qing wants him anyway. But first, she tells him some things he needed to hear (just... not about his core...).

Chapter 1 on Tumblr | AO3 links: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Author’s Notes: I forgot to mention on chapter 1: I'm using more romanized titles, like "gongzi", than translations like “Young Master”. If anyone needs a glossary, please check references like this. Also this fic is very closely from Wen Qing's POV, so all we'll see of Jiang Cheng's thoughts for now will be parenthetical inserts.

I ended up rewriting a lot of the inn scene, which is why this took two weeks to update instead of the two days I originally planned. As a result, I think the chapter quality and length are a bit better, and I touched on a couple more things I think they would need to air between them (no, no golden core reveal in this fic, although it's never that far from Wen Qing's mind and hopefully that will come across at some points before the fic ends). The smut will have to wait until chapter three. I've joked about this porn developing plot on my Tumblr but that's exactly what happened.

The message technique Wen Qing uses to contact Uncle Four from the inn is supposed to be the one she used in the drama to contact Wen Ruohan. I noticed it was three lines of three characters, written in fire in the air, and couldn't get the image/format out of my head (the symmetry was beautiful). No, I have no idea what Jiang Cheng uses and the methodology wasn't relevant to the story, so please imagine what you wish.

Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng butt heads a little in this chapter and there's a couple moments of jealousy from both of them, and Jiang Cheng grabs Wen Qing's arm at one point, if you're sensitive to those sorts of things. This isn't a smooth relationship (there's so much baggage between them!) and I had to get some things out of the way. The rest of the physical contact is welcome, I just wanted to give a heads-up just in case.

And now for the actual chapter:

“You look worried,” Granny said as she sat next to Wen Qing. Wei Wuxian had left his inventing for a bit and A-Yuan was focused on getting him to dance, which gave his other caretakers a moment of peace.

“Not worried,” Wen Qing clarified. “Just… thinking something over.” Her rendez-vous with Jiang Wanyin was in four days, and she’d found three pieces of silver that definitely weren’t hers in the hair ribbons he’d bought the week before. She couldn’t repay this, and he had strongly hinted that he intended to buy her more when they met again. He’d also strongly hinted that he wanted to continue the passionate kisses they’d shared under the tree, and she should be wary of that as well.

And yet, she’d spent time and spiritual energy the last few days, enlarging her qiankun pouch’s inside despite coming up with all sorts of arguments why she shouldn’t accept anything from him. She thought of the way the furrow between his brow eased when he was being sweet and how his lips parted when he was pleased. She thought of his arms and his kisses and the feel of his chest under her hands, and how those thoughts replaced all her other fantasies when she was alone at night.

But now, in the afternoon under the hazy Burial Mounds sun, Granny just smiled and patted her hand. “I’m sure you’ll come up with a good solution.” She was going to leave it at that. She did that more often now that Wen Qing was an adult. The difference in their status under Wen Ruohan was deeply ingrained; Wen Qing may be younger, but she and Wen Ning were the closest relations to the old leaders of the sect, the strongest cultivators. If not for Wei Wuxian, they would be the leaders of the community in name as well as function.

It was a bit lonely, at times. Wen Qing decided to speak up. “I could use an ear, Granny.”

“Of course, Qing-guniang.”

Wen Qing watched A-Yuan for a moment as he yanked Wei Wuxian around in a circle, playing some sort of spinning game. “That day in Yiling, when I came back with the baozi,” she started, “I was invited out again. I’m not sure I should accept.”

“Whyever not?”

“I’m sure you can guess.”

“I’m sure I could, but, Qing-guniang, I want to know why you’re hesitating.”

“Granny, please. We’re hunted people, living on a cursed mountain. Is that not reason enough?” Wen Qing poked at the radishes she’d been weeding. “You know I’m not the sort to caper around town when there’s work to be done.”

“I know that, Qing-guniang. But it’s all right to be a little spoiled, sometimes.”

Wen Qing blinked at her. “Granny?”

“You work hard for us. We all see it. We’re not going to begrudge you a day in town. And you deserve a chance to step out with a special friend-“

“It’s not like that,” Wen Qing cut her off. “He was kind to me, and invited me out to lunch.”

“Who did?” one of the aunties said as she plunked down next to Granny. “Does our Qing-guniang have a gentleman friend?!”

“Absolutely not! And keep your voice down. The last thing I need is Wei Wuxian to overhear this nonsense.” Wen Qing huffed and yanked up a weed like it offended her personally. Wei Wuxian would certainly remember that she’d seen his sect brother that day, and might connect the dots. She did not want to deal with that at all. He’d pestered her enough already.

“Don’t be like that! We’d be overjoyed if you had a sweetheart,” Aunty assured her. “You’re young and lovely, now’s the time to have a flirtation or three!”

“She’s worried about being spoiled,” Granny said solemnly.

“She should absolutely let herself be spoiled some! Right?” Aunty and Granny nodded at each other. “Who knows, you could make a good connection. If it gets you off this mountain-“

“I’m not getting off the mountain without the rest of you,” Wen Qing snapped. “He was kind enough to buy A-Yuan those baozi and I want to say thank you properly. And I have other friends just two towns over.”

The line about friends was complete falsehood and she felt terrible about it, but the conversation was getting out of hand. How dare they suggest she leave them behind!

“Fine, fine,” Aunty said, waving her hands. “But I still think you could stand to be a little selfish once in a while.”

“We’ll be all right for a day,” Granny assured her. Wen Qing frowned, but Wei Wuxian was looking a bit green from his spinning game with A-Yuan (really! Sometimes it was like having two toddlers), so she had bigger things to worry about.

~*~

And that was how she found herself walking side by side with Jiang Wanyin in the marketplace of trading town on the outskirts of Yunmeng territory. She was wearing an outfit he’d bought her so they would look more like normal people- not in red, but a pastel pink-orange, feminine and flowy and inoffensive. Her clothes from the Burial Mounds were stuffed in her qiankun pouch and she would have to change back into them eventually, but for now, she was enjoying the feel of soft, expensive clothes again, even if she did barely recognize herself in the dainty lady she saw in the mirror.

Jiang Wanyin had dressed down, just a little, and wore more blue than purple. With Sandu and his clarity bell tucked in his qiankun pouch, the only mark of his status was Zidian, which he would not part with.

“I’m not ashamed of who I am, just so we’re clear,” he told her in a low voice. “But I thought I should dress differently, as well.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she said.

“You didn’t have to.”

Despite his sullen words, his posture was as relaxed as she’d ever seen it. He walked close to her, and every once in a while his knuckles would brush her arm. Wen Qing wasn’t used to this closeness. Sure, she hugged A-Yuan and A-Ning as often as she could, although A-Ning was a grown man now so it wasn’t that often. But there was a normal, respectful distance between everyone else and she wasn’t used to hovering.

It was handy, though. When she stopped to admire something in the marketplace, he was right there with the silver to pay for it. All she had to do was indicate if she wanted it enough to buy. She was still frugal, but so far, she had half-filled her qiankun pouch, all of it for her family. Even the single book she got for herself was practical, a light volume on pediatric medicine so she could keep up with her practice and take care of A-Yuan.

“You can get something for yourself, you know,” Jiang Wanyin said at one point. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’re spending my money on.”

“I have to take care of everyone.”

“What about taking care of yourself?”

Wen Qing stopped and looked at him, stopping just short of a glare. “I have never just ‘taken care of myself’,” she said. “There is always someone who relies on me. Many someones. I’m sure a sect leader understands.”

Jiang Wanyin glared back at her and said, “Of course I do. But if you want something for yourself, say it.” And like he did so often during the day, he pressed his lips into a thin line and glanced away from her, as if there was more he wanted to say but didn’t dare.

(He would never tell anyone, but he was thinking that a beautiful lady like Wen Qing should have everything he could give her, like Jin Zixuan gave Jiang Yanli, and he was appalled at himself for taking the Peacock as his role model in romance. Such traitorous thoughts! He would never live it down if Wei Wuxian found out.)

His offer was generous and it made Wen Qing wary of those unsaid words. People who were this giving always wanted something in return, and she already knew he wanted her and only her. But her family needed things and he wasn’t terrible company, overall, sometimes. And she wasn’t completely adverse to his kisses. Just… cautious.

That was why she allowed the hand brushing her arm, and how he came in close when they looked at wares together. She allowed it when he put a hand on her back at the hairpin stall and leaned closer to whisper in her ear.

“You turned down the earrings,” he said with a pout (not that she would call it that to his face). “You could at least take this hairpin.”

“You do know that I won’t keep jewelry? I can’t. The price that would fetch will clothe A-Yuan for the entire winter.”

He scowled, but his expression surprisingly softened when she said A-Yuan’s name. “So be it,” he said. “I want to see you in it now.” And he bought it anyway.

(He was thinking of his sister, four months along at this point and barely showing. He thought of how Wen Yuan had once been that tiny and it really wasn’t so bad if an affectionate kid like him got warm clothes on account of his money. And he thought that if he could love one grown Wen already deemed complicit, he could learn to tolerate one child Wen who was surely innocent. But he said none of this, either, and Wen Qing would never know.)

Jiang Wanyin’s hands were gentle as he exchanged her simple hair ribbon for the silver piece he purchased, as if he was doing something normal and not scandalously romantic. The salesman merely smiled and held up a small mirror for her.

“I think you’ll be pleased, madam,” he said.

“I am,” she admitted. “Thank you, Jia-“ She paused, uncertain of how to address Jiang Wanyin. Was he trying to actively hide his identity? They weren’t in Yunmeng itself but it was still in his territory and ‘Jiang-zongzhu’ would be too telling. But she wasn’t close enough to call him familiarly.

The issue was solved for the moment by Jiang Wanyin taking her arm and walking toward the teahouse, but she would have to find out before they did this again.

‘What am I thinking? When even is this? Is there even any “this” to do again?’ Part of her hoped so.

She let him buy her tea and cakes (again), and Wen Qing bought some sweets that would last to bring home. As they were walking afterwards, she put a hand on Jiang Wanyin’s arm.

“What should I call you, when we’re out like this?” she said, voice low.

“Call me? Why wouldn’t you use my name- Oh. Right.”

She wanted to give him a stern look because it was very foolish to forget about their position, even dangerous. But he was so flustered, so young, that a tiny chuckle slipped out before she could put on her annoyed older sister face.

“Are you laughing?” he hissed.

“Yes.” She wasn’t going to sooth his damaged pride over something so small. If Jiang Wanyin couldn’t take such a tiny joke, she would forget all about his kisses and strong arms, and go back to her radishes.

But while he was annoyed, he wasn’t angry. It was a definite improvement in his temper. “Excuse me if I pretended the world didn’t exist for a few hours. Maybe I wanted to enjoy being on a walk with a beautiful woman before I go back to all the old men trying to tell me how to run my sect.”

“So you’re using me to escape? Zongzhu, I am surprised at you.”

He swallowed roughly when she called him ‘zongzhu’. Interesting. Getting a reaction with a single word was somehow powerful, and Wen Qing suddenly understood why the young ladies at Nightless City would bat their eyelashes when calling young men ‘gongzi.’ Not that she intended to do so! But the thought that even she could produce results with such a method was fascinating.

She forgot all about being cautious.

He led her to a cloth merchant, barely speaking. There was color in his cheeks, just a hint, and she knew it was from high emotion and not sun exposure. He leaned closer and whispered, “I know you’re going to be practical, but I want you to get something for yourself here, too.”

It was her turn to flush. When he spoke, his lips were close and his breath tickled her ear. She wondered if- hoped that- he would steal a kiss.

So it was only a small surprise when he pressed her against a wall later, just around a corner, barely hidden from view. From the look in his eyes, he had also been thinking about kisses.

“Come back to the inn with me,” he said in a breathy whisper.

His face was close to hers, and she almost closed the distance between them.

It would be so easy to let it happen. But it was much like trading herself for the things he’d bought her and while she had entertained the possibility, entertaining it and doing it were completely different.

He seemed to sense her hesitation. “It doesn’t have to be for… anything in particular,” he said. “But I’m not ready to let you go. I mean, it’s getting late, after all. You might as well stay.”

There he was again, that boy she’d met in Cloud Recesses, who smiled at kindness and looked at her like things were uncomplicated. For a moment, he showed through Jiang-zongzhu’s older, more jaded features.

‘You helped make him into this man,’ she reminded herself. ‘You could stay, and maybe he could be that boy again for a little while.’

It was a foolish thought, and she scolded herself for it, but she still nodded and told him, “Very well.”

~*~

They ate a light meal, back in his single room at the inn. He didn’t get a second room for her; as he told the innkeeper, they only needed one room, thank you, and let the man think what he would about it.

Once they were alone, she sent a message to Uncle Four, the old Wen method that carried her writing in flames. It only held limited characters so she was frugal with her words. “With a Friend, Staying Overnight, Back around Lunch.” Jiang Wanyin likewise sent a message by his own means to his current head disciple, Wei Wuxian’s replacement (a temporary stand-in, if Wen Qing could devise a way to get Wei Wuxian home, but for now, he was a replacement).

It was a nice enough room. Wen Qing sat at a little table, and Jiang Wanyin knelt at the desk.

“Do you have work to take care of?” she asked regarding his seat, just to make conversation.

“What? No, I didn’t bring any. I just…” He glanced at the bed. “It didn’t seem appropriate to sit elsewhere.”

After those kisses ten days before, he couldn’t even look at a piece of furniture without blushing! At least she knew her shy gongzi from Cloud Recesses hadn’t turned into a cad.

(When had he become ‘her’ gongzi? Jiang Wanyin had never been hers, she reminded herself.)

It was Jiang Wanyin’s turn to make stilted conversation. “Did you get enough? Things, I mean. At the market.”

“Wei Wuxian will probably want more paper, but besides that, I think so.” She wouldn’t admit it even if she hadn’t. She was pushing it already, allowing him to buy a few cosmetics for the aunties and that hairpin she still wore. Any other frivolities, and she feared Jiang Wanyin would rightly close his purse despite his earlier prompting.

“Hmph. He would need paper. Still designing useless talismans?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘useless,’ at least with the last batch. He’s started to make some household helpers, to compete with the Yiling Patriarch imitators.”

“I ran into one of those recently. What a bunch of stupidity! Doesn’t he do anything about them?” Jiang Wanyin snapped.

“What can he do? There will always be unscrupulous sorts, trying to cash in on a famous name. Just look at all the questionable hangers-on the sects get when they recruit.”

He scowled, but his rant subsided before it really began. “I’ve managed to weed out any truly unsuitable disciples, but yes. I know what you mean.”

She smiled slightly and came to kneel at his side. “Don’t worry so much,” she said as she laid a hand on his arm. “Wei Wuxian can handle the imitation patriarchs. Hopefully-“ She stopped herself. Did she really want to tell Jiang Wanyin that she wanted to make Wei Wuxian leave someday, to go home to Lotus Pier? He might take it as being ungrateful to his sacrifice. He might think she was politically naïve, which was less important but still galling. Or, worst of all, he might push her to do it before Wei Wuxian was ready.

But Jiang Wanyin didn’t seem to notice. His eyes flicked to her hand. Innocent as it was, he still tensed, his lips parting.

“Wen-guniang, I-“

She started to pull her hand away but he struck, quick as a snake, and grabbed her wrist. “Stay,” he commanded.

They stared at each other. Wen Qing wasn’t sure what he was thinking. She wasn’t even sure what she was thinking, her mind was such a riot. But she didn’t pull away, and after a moment, Jiang Wanyin calmed and loosened his hold on her wrist, shifting his grip. He brought her hand up to his lips until she could feel the warmth of his breath on her fingers. He looked like he wanted to say something, like the words were gathering on his tongue, damming up in a multitude, but all that came out was, “I want you.”

She should be appalled; he said it like a demand, and yes, she had entertained the notion that he would expect physical affections for the easy entry into his purse. She even thought about allowing it, remembering his kisses and aching for more.

Here, with that gentle touch at odds with his commands, his eyes dark with want but tense with- Fear? Hope? Was he waiting for rejection?

“Jiang-zongzhu,” she said, and he deflated. She slipped her hand from his, but before his shoulders could slump any more, she touched his cheek.

He leaned into her touch, hiding his expression with closed eyes. His hands fell to his lap and closed into fists. “I know you’re here for your family and Wei Wuxian,” he said before he opened his eyes again. “I’m not a fool.”

“I never said you were,” she said, tilting his face back toward her. “But I have it on good authority that it’s okay to be a little foolish, sometimes.”

“That’s not what-“

She silenced him with a kiss.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, surprised at her own audacity. But he responded eagerly, putting his hands on her arms, loose and not quite gentle, holding her close without trapping her. She wondered if he was leaving her a way to escape on purpose. And she wondered if he’d kissed someone before her; he tilted his head to keep their noses from bumping and although his kisses were a bit toothy, he didn’t clack their teeth together at all. He never had.

There was something to be said for an experienced lover. If he knew what he was doing, she could trust --well, maybe not trust, trust was dangerous-- but at least ‘allow’ him to take care of her.

Part of her was angry that he knew what he was doing. How dare he indulge himself while her family was scraping together a living from a mountain of bones! How dare he find someone else when he had been so shy with her, when she had nothing but the memory of a promise he shouldn’t have made at all!

“Is it foolish of me to ask for that again?” he said in the silence, and she was snapped back from the building sparks of her anger. Every time she started getting angry with him, he showed her that the young man from Cloud Recesses wasn’t quite gone from inside him. He was merely hiding, hesitant and unsure beneath the façade of the Sect Leader.

She was never going to be free of him, at this rate. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be.

“It’s not,” she said. He let out a small, choked noise- surprise, relief, desire, all warring in him- and swept her into his arms. But instead of kissing her again, he held her in a crushing embrace. She couldn’t reach his lips, couldn’t give him the kiss he just requested. So she laid her head on his shoulder, and waited.

“I want to kiss you,” he finally said, still holding her. “I want to do things that aren’t proper, things I should be ashamed of.”

She ran a hand over his chest. His idea of dressing down was still very fine, and her fingertips glided over the cloth.

“I would let you,” she said after a pause, decision made. “I have no reason to hold onto propriety, and you’ve been good to my family.”

“Not as good as Wei Wuxian.”

Her hand stilled. “Wei Wuxian… I was the one who asked him for help. Don’t blame him, Jiang-zongzhu.”

“My family is dead because of him.” He shifted, pushed her to arms-length, but didn’t let her go.

The mood was, of course, ruined, but Jiang Wanyin needed to hear something about this besides his own festering thoughts. So Wen Qing spoke.

“You don’t really believe that.”

“What I believe is irrelevant-“

She cut him off. “It is relevant. Because it’s not true. The Chief Cultivator was aiming for Yunmeng before Wen Chao ever encountered Wei Wuxian. You know that. At first, because he was looking for the Yin Iron hidden in the south. But also because it was only a matter of time before he went after all the Great Sects.”

“I do know that!”

“Then stop blaming Wei Wuxian! It was no one’s fault except those who organized it and those carried it out. And they are dead. You killed many of them yourself, Sandu Shengshou.”

He grimaced like his title was a curse. Good. She meant it to be.

“I know,” he said. His voice was low and soft, chastised. “But I can’t help but be angry. He ran off, abandoned his promise to me, threw away what little good name he had left. And… he’s helping you but my hands are tied.” The words dragged out of him like they were painful.

“I know,” she echoed.

“I wish the people we were protecting were the same. It would be easier if it were all of us, together.”

“I know.”

“I’m not ungrateful. But I have people depending on me, too.”

“I know,” she said again. She put a hand over his. “I’m also not ungrateful. I know what you’re doing, buying all these things for me.”

He scoffed at himself. “A lackluster effort from a lackluster man.”

“Jiang Wanyin, what do you want from me?” She didn’t bother to keep the frustration from her voice. “Why are we here today? Is it me you want, or do you just want your brother back?”

“Why talk about want?” he scoffed. “What if I want both? What if I want Wei Wuxian to make a damned accounting for himself, and I want you to be my wi- my woman?”

Even though she was so, so frustrated with him, her heart pounded when he stumbled over the words. ‘He wanted to say ‘wife.’ I am still worth something in his heart.’

He met her eyes then, and held them. “I want him back, but I also want you. If you didn’t have all those others, I could protect you.”

“If I didn’t have those others, I wouldn’t want to be protected.” She surprised herself at how true that was. If she lost A-Ning, she would walk up the steps of Carp Tower herself just to end it.

Again, he looked like he was thinking more than he was saying, his lips once more in a tight line.

(It was her loyalty that made him ache, after all. Though it was the reason they were forced apart before they really came together, her devotion to her family was what he admired in her.)

But all he said was, “I’m going to kiss you again.”

She shouldn’t allow it. He thought too much, understood too little, and said the wrong things. He was infuriating. And she had secrets that would hurt him. But he still looked at her like she was precious and lovely, and that was a heady thing.

He pulled her close and followed through with his words, surprisingly light when he had held her so tightly earlier. His hand cupped her cheek as he kissed her again. His lips and palm were warm, but Zidian’s ring was cold. Not sparking, but startlingly chill for something that had been on his hand all day. She shivered against his body. He took it for encouragement and she couldn’t say it wasn’t, not when his kisses were growing more confident and igniting such heat in her.

“Heaven help me, I want you…” He trailed off, his eyes distant. “I’m not sure how I’m going to face my ancestors again. Mother would be disappointed.”

She could understand his distraction. Family was important, after all. Aunty and Granny at least would forgive her an indiscretion or two, if they ever even found out, but she knew hardly anything of the Jiang. She couldn’t help asking, “And your father?”

Jiang Wanyin barked a laugh, and it was the ugliest sound she’d heard him make since he’d screamed at her in Yiling, when his core and heart were both shattered.

“Father would probably tell me Wei Wuxian understood our motto better, and he’d be right. I may be leading the sect but he was the one who lived its principles. I’m just making do with his leavings.”

“I had better not be included in that,” Wen Qing snapped, suddenly perturbed. As if she would let just anyone kiss her like that!

“Are you saying you’re not his?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Wei Wuxian saved us, but I don’t make a habit of offering myself up like this. Did you not listen-“

Her words were lost in another kiss, hungry and possessive, like the fact that Wei Wuxian never touched her made her even more desirable.

‘I definitely should not be doing this,’ she thought. ‘Jiang Wanyin clearly has more issues than any one human should contain.’ But he stood and swept her up in his arms and carried her across the room. It was thrilling- annoying, to be hauled around like a sack of grain, but thrilling to feel his powerful arms holding her aloft. She dug her fingers into the fabric covering his shoulder as he walked, and didn’t loosen her hold when he set her down on the bed.

He wanted her. After everything, he felt helpless that he wasn’t the one to save her, angry that she chose someone else. And those were dangerous things. She had seen the perils of a jealous man before. One didn’t live anywhere near Wen Chao without seeing it. And Jiang Wanyin desired her, which was just as perilous. Knowing she could invoke such feelings, that she was wanted simply for being her... It made her ache to get closer to him. But in the morning, he would have to leave, and who knew if he’d find a way to see her again. She’d be back to furtive might-have-been fantasies in her corner of their rickety shelter on a hill of bones.

She wanted to accept everything he gave her today. ‘I am going to be selfish, Granny. Forgive me.’

“I am not Wei Wuxian’s, but I can’t be yours past tonight,” she told Jiang Wanyin.

“I would take whatever you give me,” he said, and she was struck by how similar that was to her own thoughts. She ran a hand from his shoulder, up his neck, down his jawline, drawing him closer with her touch. He still knelt next to the bed rather than on it, the same spot he’d ended in when he laid her down, and when he kissed her again, the only part that touched were their lips and her fingers on his jaw.

He shifted to sit beside her and kissed her again, his hair spilling over his shoulder and hiding the last bits of sunlight that gleamed golden through the window. She put her arms around him and pulled him close. The sun was no longer for her. She hid behind the curtain of his hair and coaxed him into another of his searing kisses.

This time his hand wandered over her body. His touch was heavy, like he was determined to feel her entire being through her clothes. She found she didn’t mind. She wasn’t delicate; that filmy gown he’d chosen wasn’t her. He moaned against her mouth when he reached her breast and that was very nice. Gratifying, to know that she could pull more pleasant sounds from him after he’d bared some of his ugly side to her just moments earlier.

She wanted to hear more.

Wen Qing fumbled with one hand, catching his wrist before he moved farther away, and brought his hand back to her chest. “A little nicer, Jiang Wanyin,” she said, and oh, his moan at that was sweet! He obediently massaged her breast, pushing aside the top layer of her clothes and exploring the feel of her in his hand.

“Is that good?” he asked.

“It is. Your belt is digging into me, though.”

He hurriedly undid the offending belt and tossed it to the floor. He paused above her, looking down like he was drinking her in.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, and leaned over to give her a brief kiss, far more gentle than any of the ones before. “Can I…?” His fingers hovered over her sash.

“Only if you take down my hair, too,” she said. His lips parted, his cheeks pinkened, as if touching her hair was more intimate than her breasts, even though he’d put the hairpin there himself, in public.

‘Ah, but hair is something he would do with a wife, and a wife only,’ she thought, banishing the thought of Jiang Wanyin in a lover’s arms. It made her heart clench painfully. She sat up to give him access to her hair. ‘You were so determined to have him, Wen Qing, that you forgot he knew how to kiss before you,’ she scolded herself as he shifted behind her, his face still bewildered as it had been on Biling Lake. ‘Will you back out now, now that he might know more?’

He took the pin from her hair and set it safely aside. His hands went to her shoulders- and stayed there. He paused for such a long time, she started to turn to check on him, any number of situations running through her head, ranging from frivolous to dire. Was he having second thoughts? Did he notice her hair oil wasn’t as luscious and expensive as before? Was Wei Wuxian’s golden core giving out on him? Did she have something embarrassing like a hairy mole on her neck that she didn’t know about? Were her ears too big and unsexy? Had he finally made the connection between ‘Baoshan Sanren’ and her? Was he thinking about his mother again?!

But just as she was turning, he pressed his lips to the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him, shoulderblades to his chest. “I want whatever you will share with me,” he said, and the low hum of his voice sent a shiver through her. “I want you so much, right now. But I arranged for a hot bath and they’ll be up with the supplies any moment now.”

She stopped, tilted her head just a little so she could peek up at him behind her. Something strained and tense in her snapped. Her first laugh was a hard cough, like her body wasn’t used to making the sound. Perhaps it wasn’t- she wasn’t much prone to laughing in the best of times. But the chuckles bubbled up nonetheless, unbidden, a tiny bit hysterical- but freeing. Jiang Wanyin made a gruff noise behind her and she leaned back, setting a hand on his arm.

“A bath,” she tried to get out in her laughter. Her shoulders shook against him and tears welled in her eyes from the abrupt, overwhelming emotion. “You were still, for so long, I worried. But, just a bath!”

There was a short sound from him in her ear as he choked back an involuntary laugh of his own. “That’s ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.”

“Humans are ridiculous, Jiang Wanyin,” she said “Here I was, worried you didn’t like my ears and were going to leave, and all you did was remember the bath.”

“Your ears are fine,” he snapped, as if insulted by the suggestion he could consider them otherwise. She chuckled again and dabbed at her wet eyes, almost in control of herself, and nestled back against him. And there she stayed, tucked against his chest and his lower dantian and even more of him she ached to touch, until their bath was filled.

Next Chapter

#the untamed #chen qing ling #chengqing #jiang cheng/wen qing #wen qing #jiang cheng #My writing #apologies for the long author's notes again #but it couldn't be helped

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ouyangzizhensdad · 4 years

Note

19 & 25 for salty ask (￣ε￣＠)

What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?

I don’t know if I can pinpoint one thing that I hate the most (except perhaps the easy answer of, like, the fact that people cannot keep CQL stuff out of the MDZS tags).

I guess that one of them would that like people take the “there does not exist a True Reading/a Single Interpretation to a text” to the dumb extreme of like “anything goes because I just need to say that that’s how I see it 🙃 and all of our readings are all equally Valid”. Please, you still need to be able to justify and support that reading beyond “well that’s just how I prefer to think about this/that’s My Interpretation 🙃” if you want to have any credibility when you say that these readings hold as much water as readings/interpretations for which we are presented arguments supported by what can be found in the text or meta-textual engagements with the text. I couldn’t just show up to the fandom and be like “Zidian is an allegory for the fall from grace and MDZS is rooted in christian ideology, actually” with nothing to support that wild thesis and just expect people to be like “well, I guess we all have different readings of the text, uh, how valid of you.”

But honestly I am Boo Boo the Fool to expect otherwise....

How would you end MDZS/Would you change the ending of MDZS?

That’s a good question because MDZS is such a beast of a book that it’s quite hard to tie it all off and chose what note to end it on. I guess as well that with the extras we have technically “two endings” in the sense of what the novel ends on and what the last extra ends on. And, uh, I’ll probably need to unpack both so let’s get into it (only I would turn a salty ask into meta)

Last chapter: “Wangxian part III”

So after meeting MianMian, Wangxian continue to travel to a small town in their efforts to go where the chaos is. WWX is playing footsie under the table at the wine shop, holding onto LWJ’s ribbon. In contrast to this domestic scene, suddenly:

One of the few sitting at the table gloated, “I knew Jin Guangyao had to plummet sooner or later with the things he did! I’ve been waiting for this day for so long, and now he’s finally exposed, hah! One’s deeds will be paid, one way or another—what goes around always comes around!”

The last chapter directly references the prologue, which is something I personally adore in writing, this idea of taking your story full-circle. The difference, this time, is that the villain to be despised as entertainment is not longer WWX, but JGY (I could have done without WWX explicitly telling us so in the text because it is pretty clear however I also know readers miss the most obvious cues so maybe that hand-holding is deserved).

Aside from gossip about JGY, the sects, and the sealing ceremony of the coffin containing NMJ and JGY, there is a moment where an unnamed youth raises a point about the yin hufu.

Suddenly, he heard a young man’s voice, “Then is the Yin hufu really inside the coffin?”

A cloud of silence fell over the wine shop. A moment later, someone answered, “Who knows? Perhaps. What could Jin Guangyao have done with the Yin hufu except for carrying it on him?”

“But there’s no way of telling. Didn’t they say the hufu has become just a piece of scrap iron? There’s no use for it anymore.”

The boy sat alone at a table, holding a sword in his arms, “Is the coffin really firm enough? What would happen if someone wants to see if the Yin hufu is inside or not?”

Immediately, someone raised his voice, “Who’d dare?”

“QingheNieShi, GusuLanShi, and YunmengJiangShi all sent people to guard the cemetery. Who in the world would have the guts to do it?”

Everyone expressed their agreement. The boy didn’t speak up again. He took the teacup from his table and sipped, as though he gave up on his idea. Yet, his eyes hadn’t changed at all.

Wei Wuxian had seen those types of eyes on many faces. And he knew that this definitely wouldn’t be the last time he saw them.

This continues the idea that the cycle that brought about the issues and conflicts in the cultivation world that fueled the story of the novel are not likely to disappear, and that once again it is likely that the “common wisdom” of public opinion will accelerate or allow such troubles to brew.

After they leave the wine shop, LWJ and WWX share a more domestic moment. Amongst others, they discuss the song Wangxian. Through parallel imagery, the novel also reaffirms that LWJ and WWX have become a family by mirroring one of WWX’s few memories of his parents (”Listening to his nonsense, Lan Wangji only grasped the reins of Lil’ Donkey with Wei Wuxian on it and clenched the thin rope in his palm, continuing on their way."). As well, WWX suggests they go back to the CR with a casually comment about missing tianzi xiao which is in reality prompted by the fact that he knew LWJ would be worried about his xiongzhang and shufu since one of the man in the wine shop said that LXC had looked terrible during the sealing ceremony and another commented “What would you expect? In the coffin were his two sworn brothers, while his sect’s juniors kept on running around with a fierce corpse—they even need its assistance on night-hunts! No wonder he’s in secluded cultivation so often. If Lan Wangji still doesn’t go back, I bet Lan Qiren’s gonna start cursing…”. This shows how Wangxian are taking care of one another in their own way, which is very cute.

WWX also provides an in-universe explanation for his bad memory:

Wei Wuxian knew that ‘for once’ referred to how his memory was good for once. He couldn’t help but smile, “Don’t always be so angry about it. It was my fault in the past, alright? Besides, my terrible memory should be accredited to my mom.”

Wei Wuxian propped his arm on Lil’ Apple’s head, spinning Chenqing in his hand, “My mom said you have to remember the things others do for you, not the things you do for others. Only when people don’t hold so much in their hearts would they finally feel free.”

And then we get the final lines of the novel:

Facing the wind, Wei Wuxian squinted at Lan Wangji’s silhouette. As he criss-crossed his legs, he shockingly found that he could somehow manage to balance himself in such an odd position on the back of Lil’ Apple.

It was only something trivial, yet he looked as if he just discovered a new and interesting occurrence. He couldn’t hold himself back from sharing this with Lan Wangji, calling, “Lan Zhan, look at me, look at me now!”

Just like before, Wei Wuxian called his name with a grin, and he looked over as well.

From then on, he could never move his eyes away again.

I am overall pretty satisfied with this ending, although I wish the last few lines had a stronger thematic resonance, but hey, it is still a romance novel at the heart of it so it also makes sense that it finishes that way. I am sure that there is a case that could be made about how the ending could have been stronger or more impactful, but I do think that it is a perfectly competent one. There are of course more things that could be discussed about how the novel ties in a lot of plot threads, but it is interesting to me to focus on what MXTX decided to show in the ultimate chapter of the novel.

Last extra: “Dream come true”

This extra is basically the equivalent of a book adding another chapter after “and they lived happily ever after” in order to show you what that happily ever after could look like for these characters. If the novel had only had the tone of this extra, it would have gotten boring pretty fast. But as it is, as an extra, it is just this little delightful piece of fluff that also gives us more backstory about WWX’s infatuation with LWJ during his first life. It is sweet to the point of cavities, but hey nothing wrong with an indulgent fanfic being stapled at the back of a story. It’s my favourite extra and I love how the audio drama gave life to it.

“Be honest about whether or not you thought about me in the same way.” In a solemn tone, he spoke, “Rejecting me like that so coldly every single time—it really made me lose face, don’t you know?”

Lan Wangji, “You can try, now, to see if I would reject you over anything.”

The sentence so suddenly struck his heart. Wei Wuxian choked, yet Lan Wangji was still as calm as ever, as though he didn’t at all realize what he just said. Wei Wuxian put his hand to his forehead, “You… Hanguang-Jun, let’s make a deal. Please warn me before you say something so romantic, or else I won’t be able to take it.”

Lan Wangji nodded, “Okay.”

Wei Wuxian, “Lan Zhan—what a person you are!”

Tens of thousands of words were left unspoken, in exchange for endless laughter and hugs.

Well that wasn’t very salty, but 🤷‍♂️

Salty asks

#salty asks #anon ask #mdzs #wangxian #Anonymous #long post

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

Time-traveling JGY to right after his dad asks him to kill NMJ, he decides to do things the opposite way to the first time so he sulks around looking pale and sad for a day or two then allows his two sworn brothers to drag out of him what his dad asked him to do.

ao3

First order of business: don’t underestimate Nie Huaisang, Jin Guangyao decided when he figured out that the bizarre talisman he’d found that promised to abrogate his greatest regrets had actually somehow implausibly worked and he was back in the past.

Back at the right point in the past, no less – he’d spent a considerable amount of time meditating in front of Nie Mingjue’s head and wondering what would have been the right point to have changed things, and he’d settled on here and now. The point at which he’d already defeated Wen Ruohan and earned back his name, ceremony completed and everything sealed, but before his ‘family’ demonstrated how little they thought of him, before he’d sealed his fate by killing Nie Mingjue and losing himself to his family’s schemes forever.

The time when he’d already broken Nie Mingjue’s trust once, and thought he’d lost it forever.

He’d been an idiot, of course.

He’d seen Nie Mingjue’s harshness and assumed it was hatred; he’d listened to his scolding and thought it was disdain; he’d thought that Nie Mingjue had sworn brotherhood with him for the sole purpose of humiliating him, when of course it was only that Nie Mingjue had already shifted over to thinking of him as family and didn’t actually know what to do with family when he wasn’t lecturing them.

Such a waste.

He had considered going back to before – to the time before he’d murdered a man and lost Nie Mingjue’s trust the first time, because nothing that was broken could ever be returned to how it was originally, but that was far too risky. What if him having never left Nie Mingjue’s side meant that they failed to defeat Wen Ruohan? Wouldn’t it all be for nothing, then?

Not to mention the personal inconvenience – he’d lived through war and spying once, and he had no interest in going through it again, thank you – and besides he’d already gotten used to the name Jin Guangyao. It’d be such a bother to have to reaccustom himself to something else if he had to obtain through some other means the name that he had promised his mother on her deathbed that he’d get, and who knew if those other means might lead to some other break with Nie Mingjue.

He deserved for it to be Jin Ziyao, of course, but since when had anything happened the way he’d deserved? Since when did he ever get anything in his life that he didn’t have to scheme for and fight for?

Except perhaps for Nie Mingjue’s affection, that first time.

Oh, he’d schemed to get his attention all right. On his way to Qinghe, he’d listened at every campfire he could, gathered information and rumor about what Sect Leader Nie – the most open-minded of the sect leaders when it came to accepting talent regardless of origin – liked and disliked, and using his mother’s teachings he’d planned a meticulous campaign based on what he learned. A careful balance of being useful and being pitiful, appealing to the man’s respect for competence and his pleasure in standing up for the innocent, engendering good feelings that could be turned to his benefit when he eventually sought out a position of power, slowly at first to avoid giving him the impression that he was using him, and then climbing little by little…

He’d barely gotten past the first step or two of the plan before Nie Mingjue was rushing past him, freely giving him the power and authority he so desperately craved, giving him respect he hadn’t even known was possible to get from someone so different. Nie Mingjue had treated him as far more than a mere deputy, more than a trusted advisor, treated him as a friend.

Nie Mingjue freely gave Jin Guangyao warmth of the sort he’d lacked since his mother died.

Jin Guangyao had been a fool not to realize the value of that, in his first life. Only when he had all the power in the world and none of the love had he realized how much he had had, how much he had lost.

How pointless all that power was, without the love.

It had been an understandable mistake for him to have made – at that time, it hadn’t been so long since he lost his mother, after all, and she’d loved him dearly, so thoroughly, so all-consumingly, that the honest and sincere affection he received from Nie Mingjue didn’t seem so important when it was compared to his ambitions.

Of course, having achieved all of his ambitions through all his schemes only to be brought down by vengeance born of that same Nie warmth and love had been – very educational.

And yet…not quite as educational as the other part of it.

At what had happened between him and his sworn brothers, in the end.

Jin Guangyao’s heart was made of stone, he knew, and it had only ever been moved twice in his life. He had only ever felt his heart beat fast because of the two men who had treated him well with no expectation of receiving anything in return. Lan Xichen, the beautiful and perfect gentleman who smiled at him and relied on him, and Nie Mingjue, the brave and powerful sect leader that found him pleasing and gave him everything, even his trust - at first.

In his past life, he had put Lan Xichen on a pedestal in his heart, the man appearing in every way the very image of the ideal cultivator that Jin Guangyao had dreamed of when he was a child. It had pleased him to be the one to save Lan Xichen, the one to protect him, to provide for him – it had made him feel strong, powerful, even before he actually had the power in his hands. For all that his cultivation was weaker, his age younger, Jin Guangyao was the stronger one between the two of them, and not only when he had saved his life, but after, too. Lan Xichen’s sect relied upon his Jin sect for their rebuilding, and Lan Xichen himself, a yielding personality that hated conflict, often relied on his guidance when it came to politics.

Jin Guangyao had fancied himself the man’s patron, luxuriating in the feeling of having made it so well and so thoroughly that he could keep a man like Lan Xichen, and in so doing he’d fallen for the same trick that each and every prostitute ever born had used on a willing mark since the beginning of time.

What had he not given Lan Xichen, in his first life? What had he stinted on, except perhaps the truths that would only hurt the man to know?

And what had it gotten him, in the end?

A single word from Lan Wangji, with his head turned by Wei Wuxian as always, had been enough for Lan Xichen to ban him from the Cloud Recesses without even a discussion, all the money and time and effort Jin Guangyao had put into rebuilding that very place forgotten as if it had never happened, as if the Cloud Recesses had resurrected itself without outside aid, or perhaps that it had never fallen at all.

A few rumors by prostitute and a bribed maid, and Lan Xichen believed the worst of him.

A child’s trick by Nie Huaisang (though Jin Guangyao hadn’t yet realized all that he’d done), and Lan Xichen had run him through without so much as a blink.

Jin Guangyao did not delude himself into thinking this was a tragedy unique to him. No, he was exactly like every other rich man who’d been squeezed dry by a beauty for his money and his power and abandoned the second it ran out.

Jin Guangyao had been angry, in his first life, that Nie Mingjue had – in his mind – cast him aside when he’d violated the man’s principles, but in the end Lan Xichen had done the same, and it was far worse because Jin Guangyao had given so much more of himself to him.

Chivalry, honor – who needed it?

Certainly not Nie Huaisang, who for his brother’s sake had thrown away every last bit of respectability his birth had ever given him to wade into the muck to fight Jin Guangyao on his own terms and win; barely even Nie Mingjue, who might have clothed his deeds in respectability but who had gone to war – had dragged the rest of the cultivation world into death and despair – in order to avenge his father.

If it had been Nie Mingjue at the temple, not Lan Xichen, would Jin Guangyao had been run through? Or would Nie Mingjue, of the strong will but even stronger heart, have in the end stayed his blade, his terrible Baxia, and allowed Jin Guangyao to flee, just as he’d done so many years earlier?

It was only now, in thinking it over in the harsh light of hindsight, that he even thought to compare them.

He had only known Nie Mingjue for a few years, compared to the nearly two decades he had devoted to Lan Xichen, and yet in those years Nie Mingjue had never, even at his worst, sought to kill Jin Guangyao, even though he could have easily done so. Even full of poison and rot and deliberately instigated madness, driven to calling Jin Guangyao the insult he knew he hated most – although Jin Guangyao could admit to himself in retrospect that he was, at that precise moment, acting especially like a son of a whore – Nie Mingjue had held back his fearsome strength when he kicked him down the stairs of Jinlin Tower.

He hadn’t even bruised a rib in that fall. When his father had kicked him, he’d broken three.

If he had had two decades to work his way into Nie Mingjue’s confidence, earn his love…would Nie Mingjue have so easily turned away from him?

No.

Nie Mingjue would have sought him out to hear his side of the story, the way he always did back in the army camp when troublemakers spread rumors about him in an effort to displace him. He would have called him to the Unclean Realm to explain himself, rather than banning him without a word. He would have refused to listen to rumors presented without basis and insisted on proof, on seeing for himself, insisted on letting Jin Guangyao have the opportunity to defend himself.

He would have protected him from his enemies even as he shouted at him – he would have thrown himself between the sword and Jin Guangyao rather than let him face the penalty of his actions alone.

He would not have run him through so thoughtlessly, as if he were a ghoul rather than a friend.

He would have let him go.

Yes, Jin Guangyao was sure of it. Nie Mingjue would have let him go.

Damn the man, too much an older brother to be able to put any conditions on his love, the naïve idiot probably wouldn’t have stopped there; he probably would have given Jin Guangyao money to help him on his way, wanting to make sure that the life he lived in Dongying would be a good one.

He would have done the same way if it had been Nie Huaisang that had been accused of so much evil. The same way he’d dragged his feet about going to fight Wei Wuxian at the Burial Mounds, even though his own men had been killed by him; the same way he couldn’t bring himself to kill Jin Guangyao even after he’d murdered Nie disciples right before his eyes…

The way everyone in the Nie sect had to train, without exception – except for Nie Huaisang, because Nie Mingjue loved him.

He’d loved Jin Guangyao, once. Loved him enough to swear brotherhood with him despite the blood of those Nie sect disciples scarcely having been washed off his hands – if Nie Mingjue could forgive that, then surely the murder of a few dozen other sects wouldn’t have mattered nearly as much, not the way they mattered to Lan Xichen.

Or, well, maybe they would have, but Nie Mingjue would have broken himself for him anyway.

And then Nie Huaisang would’ve had to find a way to plot against him from a distance, which would be much harder for him, no matter how smart he was. Of course, that was assuming that Nie Huaisang would have plotted against him, instead of scheming to find a way to whitewash Jin Guangyao’s name in order to bring him back to make his brother happy, the way he’d so obviously (in retrospect) done with Wei Wuxian on behalf of Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji, who had been his friends.

First order of business: don’t underestimate Nie Huaisang.

Second order of business: get Nie Mingjue on my side.

It wouldn’t be that hard. Jin Guangyao was older and wiser now, less impulsive than he’d been, a little wiser in the way of people, perhaps. It hadn’t been until he saw the depths of what Nie Huaisang had done – his uncaring eyes that only a few days before had been crying into his shoulder as if Jin Guangyao was the only person in the world who loved him – that he realized that what Nie Mingjue had hated most about Jin Guangyao’s betrayal had been the treachery of it, not the specific actions he’d taken.

He’d presented himself as someone pure and innocent and clean, someone who would never do such a thing, and so when he had done it Nie Mingjue had realized that he had been lied to for all that time. That he had extended trust, and received none.

By the point in time he was at now, Nie Mingjue knew what type of person he was: ambitious and cutthroat, ruthless, a liar and a murderer. And yet, knowing all this, he still had still sworn brotherhood to him – had still extended his trust.

All Jin Guangyao needed to do now, thus, was to extend that trust in return.

For real, this time. Or at least – as close as he ever came to real.

His father’s request that Jin Guangyao use his connections to his sworn brothers to make Nie Mingjue stop his pestering over Xue Yang – so carefully couched in words that could be denied later, and were – would work perfectly. He would pretend to sulk, reluctant to admit what was wrong; Lan Xichen would fall for it at once and try to coax the truth out of him.

He would tell them.

Lan Xichen would be filled with horror, livid at what Jin Guangshan had asked of him, at what he was being forced to do – furious on his behalf, leaping to his defense. The perfect gentleman, as always.

Nie Mingjue, though, wouldn’t trust a word he said. Later, when they were alone, Jin Guangyao could look him in the eye and admit that he’d considered it. That he’d weighed the pros and cons of it, the love of his father and filial duty and, yes, even power –

It’s a waste, he’d say. I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong, da-ge, you know that, but I know that I don’t want to lose you.

Nie Mingjue would believe him.

He wouldn’t believe the sad and pitiful version of him that Lan Xichen had always liked, but he’d believe the ruthless Jin Guangyao, finally tricked back to the side of righteousness by some unnamed emotion that caught him by surprise – yes, Nie Mingjue would like that.

Lan Xichen wouldn’t.

Jin Guangyao had always known, hadn’t he, even in his first life, that he would only ever be able to please one of them perfectly. He’d known that doing what he needed to do to ensnare Lan Xichen, who loved rescuing the pitiful, would anger Nie Mingjue, who hated hypocrisy; he had decided, his eyes full of the pure moonlight, that he preferred Lan Xichen, and acted accordingly.

Well, Jin Guangyao was not and had never been a stern absolutist, inflexible and unbending. He knew how to learn from his mistakes.

He’d given Lan Xichen a lifetime, and it had turned out – well, for a while, and then terribly.

In this lifetime, he’d see how far Nie Mingjue could take him.

Next order of business – don’t underestimate Lan Wangji. It’s always the younger brothers…

#mdzs #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #lan xichen #my fic #my fics #reevaluation #Anonymous

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gusu-emilu · 4 years

Text

Cantatio: Chapter Five

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying (POV Lan Zhan)

Summary: Wei Ying gives Lan Zhan a scare while bringing pixiu statues to life in Song Lan’s class.

Cloud Recesses Academy AU, Rated T - read on AO3

Lan Wangji stumbled over as fast as he could. His legs were not working reliably after having so much of his energy drained. What kind of state would Wei Wuxian be in?

He squatted in front of Wei Wuxian, grasped his shoulders, and lifted his hunched torso. His eyes were shut tight, and his mouth hung open, threads of saliva beaded on his tongue.

Starting to panic, Lan Wangji pressed three fingers into a groove on Wei Wuxian’s neck. He was warm. His pulse was surprisingly fast.

“Wei Ying?”

< Ch. 4 | Ch. 6 > | chapter list

Although Lan Wangji would be disinclined to downplay his uncle, he had to admit that Beings & Creatures with Song Lan was much more interesting than Trans-Himalayan poetry.

Half of the intrigue was the professor himself. He was terse in words and frosty in demeanor, but beneath his withdrawn temperament was a vast expanse of worldly knowledge and wary cynicism that did not seem like it belonged in a man who couldn’t have been much older than thirty. His presence reminded Lan Wangji of something he had felt before.

Lan Wangji had met many Lan Clan elders. Some members of this venerated generation carried a certain type of sorrow. It was a quiet, subdued torment that resided within their aged bones, dormant and faceless.

In a way he could not comprehend, Lan Wangji was able to sense its aura. It made him stiffen when those weathered men and women spoke his name or touched his shoulders, as he was overcome with a foreboding that if he got too close, their frail sorrow would sense his youth and vigor, and slink out of its hosts and into Lan Wangji’s heart to feed on his fresh life force.

These were people who were deeply haunted, but with the blessing of age had managed to integrate their pain into the sinews of their body until their identity and their misery were one and the same. It was not peace. It was the closest these people could come to peace.

Song Lan was one of these people.

Why did a man so young carry such a burden, and how had it settled into his being so seamlessly?

Yesterday evening, Lan Wangji had asked his brother what he knew about Song Lan. It was not much. Lan Xichen remarked that Song Lan had been a rogue cultivator for over a decade, traveling to places beyond the reach of the major cultivation sects. He went wherever the stars guided him, and he solved whatever problems crossed his path. There was no record of his deeds, only that his name roused a vaguely positive reaction if spoken in a few villages spread throughout the land. This was his first time teaching at the Cloud Recesses Academy after being personally invited by Lan Qiren.

Lan Wangji decided that he liked Song Lan, if only for the secrets he kept.

He liked Song Lan’s class, too. The other half of the intrigue of Beings & Creatures was the course material.

Instead of studying at desks in a classroom, the disciples kneeled in a clearing of soft trimmed grass that was a short walk away from the central buildings of the Cloud Recesses. The sunshine was warm upon their backs. In the distance were lush forests and misty mountains.

Song Lan parsed the disciples into groups of two, then took his time as he wordlessly weaved through the clearing and placed before each pair a greyish-brown stone carving of a pixiu, a magical hybrid that looked like a winged, serpentine roaring lion. The statues, small enough to hold in one hand, were old and beat-up. Each wide-mouthed pixiu carving sat atop a rectangular platform.

Lan Wangji’s pixiu sat in the grass between him and his partner Jin Zixuan. Jin Zixuan leaned forward and hesitantly inspected the pixiu.

“It’s kind of cute. In an ugly way,” he remarked.

Jin Zixuan’s head bobbed up and down every few moments to judge the statue from different angles, while Lan Wangji watched Song Lan in anticipation for their instructions.

Song Lan was in no hurry to start. His posture was stiff, but his jaw was soft and his eyelids were heavy. His robes were dark and held tints of cool blue and green. The diagonal golden hilt of a sword was visible behind his shoulder.

A cloud of reluctant curiosity formed over the disciples’ heads. They had no idea what the lesson would be about. In fact, their professor had not said anything other than ‘Do not touch these.’ He hadn’t even introduced himself yet.

On Lan Wangji’s left and two rows ahead, Wei Wuxian was partnered with Nie Huaisang. Both of them were crouched down in the grass to examine the backside of the pixiu.

“It really doesn’t have a butthole,” Wei Wuxian whispered.

“Why is that the first thing you look for?” Jiang Cheng said through clenched teeth from where he kneeled behind them.

Nie Huaisang laid a dainty finger on his chin. “Legend has it that after a pixiu pooped in the Jade Emperor’s palace, the Emperor spanked it so hard that its butt sealed up.”

Lan Wangji’s exhales became a bit more forceful.

Thankfully, the shameless disciples were silenced by a frigid glare from Song Lan.

A few paces away from the class, Jin Guangyao sat alone without a statue. Jin Guangyao may have been a cultivator and the son of the Jin Clan Leader, but he was also the son of a prostitute. He existed in a precarious state of ambiguity—privileged enough to attend classes with the best disciples in the land, but too unclean to fully participate in them. He was condemned to forever watch and serve from the sidelines, true greatness an arm’s length away but yet just beyond his fingertips.

At least, since Jin Guangshan had snatched him out of Nie Mingjue’s more humanizing tutelage the minute he showed promise. Lan Wangji understood why Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen complained so much about their doe-eyed friend joining the Jin Clan.

Suddenly, Song Lan, too, looked at Jin Guangyao. A subtle, inscrutable line appeared in his brow. Otherwise, he did not move.

Jin Guangyao clutched his robes uncomfortably as the professor stared at him.

Another few seconds passed.

By now, the one disciple left to finish examining his pixiu and turn his attention to Song Lan was Wen Ning. Finally, Wen Ning looked up with his dark, expressive eyes.

It was only then that Song Lan spoke.

“Welcome. I am Song Lan of Baixue Temple. Today we will learn to animate guardian statues.”

This was a hefty topic for their first day. Normally a round of lively comments would spread through the crowd of disciples after such an announcement, but no one made a sound.

Song Lan was like a source of gravity, drawing in all attention, noise, even the bright sunlight, and weaving it into a narrow thread of solemnity.

“Someone please inform the class of what a guardian spirit is.”

It was Luo Qingyang who spoke.

“Guardian spirits are formed from the intentions of the founders of a location and are housed in statues. Although many buildings have statues to ward off evil, most contain weak guardian spirits, if any at all. Thousands of prayer intentions of great conviction are necessary to form a potent guardian spirit. Usually only palaces, temples, and important locations like the Cloud Recesses have strong ones.”

Lan Wangji visualized the architecture of the Cloud Recesses. Small statues of animals sat upon its roofs, and guardian lions stood before its most important buildings. They had protected the Cloud Recesses for countless years.

“Very good. Guardian statues take the form of a powerful animal,” Song Lan continued. “Pixiu are a common example. Females have two antlers and fight off evil. Males have a single antler and attract wealth.”

“Why is mine female?” Wen Chao grumbled as though it were a terrible affront.

The frost in Song Lan’s visage turned to sharp ice.

“Why not?”

Wen Chao looked up with a start. Apparently, he had not expected Song Lan to hear, despite how loud his voice was. But a jerk before an audience of one didn’t always have qualms about being a jerk before all.

“Because, I’m a man! Give this to the girls instead.”

In the row behind him, Wen Qing rolled her eyes.

Song Lan gave his head a slight tilt. “Please prove to me, with textualized arguments, that there is an established, well-researched reason this should be done.”

Wen Chao scowled as he processed Song Lan’s words. “I’m male! There’s nothing more to it.”

“Can you prove it to me with words alone, other than references to your sex?”

“…”

“Every object—people, plants, even these statues—contains a balance of feminine and masculine, of yin and yang. To waste one is to starve the soul. If you would like to starve, I will not stop you.”

A vein bulged in Wen Chao’s neck. He looked like he was about to jump up, but having been bested, he did not reply.

“This is basic cultivation theory that a child would know. Do not make me question the legitimacy of your attendance here.”

Several of the disciples grinned and nodded their heads in agreement with Song Lan. Then again, it was easy to agree when the object of ridicule was a Wen.

Song Lan’s eyes left Wen Chao, and darted to Jin Guangyao again. That same line appeared in his forehead. This time, Lan Wangji recognized discomfort in his expression.

Strange.

Then Song Lan continued the lesson as if it had never been interrupted.

“A guardian statue can be animated in a time of crisis by drawing on its guardian spirit. However, animating even a small statue will greatly drain a cultivator’s spiritual energy. Attempting to animate one that is too large can destroy a cultivator’s golden core.

“You are young. Although you possess golden cores, they are immature and fragile. Therefore, you will practice by animating statues that contain weak guardian spirits, and you will work in pairs to combine your energies into a single summoning.”

Jin Zixuan turned his head to exchange glances with Lan Wangji, but Lan Wangji did not return the gesture. He stared at the pixiu, studying its single-horned head. It was male.

“Place one hand upon the statue and reach out to the spirit. Be careful. Once you contact the spirit, it will immediately begin absorbing your energy.”

With two fingers, Lan Wangji gently touched the left side of the pixiu’s head. The stone was rough and slightly warm from sitting in the sun.

Once his partner was also touching the pixiu, Lan Wangji closed his eyes and reached out to probe the spiritual energy orbiting him. He felt Jin Zixuan’s nervousness and determination enter his mind and become one with his thoughts.

Then, something pounded over his spiritual essence like a wave crashing on the shore in ocean storm. Like the tide washing that wave back out to sea, it pulled Lan Wangji.

No, it tore at him—it was draining him, ripping his core from him—

In a second, the pain was gone. He panted for breath. His body felt much weaker, like he had swum a mile at full speed on an empty stomach: sleepy, aching, and dizzy, but still healthy.

He opened his eyes.

The little stone creature had jumped off its platform. Its movements were rigid and awkward, but it was very much alive. It radiated a joyful, protective energy.

The pixiu bounded over to Jin Zixuan, who had dropped onto his stomach in exhaustion. Jin Zixuan peered up at the pixiu that practically stood atop his nose. He gave a weary smile.

Male pixiu sought wealth. Jin Zixuan was undoubtedly the richest person in the vicinity. Their guardian statue performed its duty well.

Lan Wangji observed the progress of the disciples surrounding him. No one had animated their statues as quickly as them. Most sat with clenched muscles as they pressed their hands against the pixiu, trembling and whimpering as they fell deeper into the trance.

To his left, beads of sweat dripped down the side of Jiang Cheng’s face as he bared his teeth.

Two rows ahead, Wei Wuxian’s black curtain of hair was outlined in a fluffy yellow halo created by the sunlight. He was arguing with Nie Huaisang before a still-frozen statue.

“Just put your hand on it!”

“No, it’s too scary!”

“Come on, Huaisang, it’s not that bad!”

“It was going to pull out my golden core! I didn’t like it at all!”

Wei Wuxian grabbed Nie Huaisang by the folds of his robes below his neck and shook him back and forth. Nie Huaisang’s head lolled left and right.

“It couldn’t have felt much worse than this!” Wei Wuxian teased.

Nie Huaisang grinned and tried to peel away Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Yeah, you’re way worse, Wei-xiong! Way worse!”

Lan Wangji became bitterly aware of the lack of Wei Wuxian’s hand on his own robes.

Wait, what?

Ridiculous, Lan Wangji decided, directing his judgement at the two boys in front of him, and not at himself, because that thought had never happened.

Wei Wuxian released Nie Huaisang with a flimsy shove. “Aiya, you’re useless, Huaisang. I’ll just do it myself.”

“Wait, but didn’t the daozhang say that two people—”

“Shh! I just wanna try! It can’t be that hard!”

Lan Wangji clenched his jaw. He had experienced firsthand how much spiritual energy the pixiu had taken from his golden core, and it was already enough to warp his breaths and exhaust his muscles. That was with the help of Jin Zixuan, who was one of the most powerful disciples.

Where was Song Lan? Did he not see what was happening?

Wei Wuxian wasn’t foolish enough to try to animate the statue himself, was he?

The young cultivator wrapped a hand around the neck of the pixiu.

Apparently, he was.

“Wei Ying!”

Lan Wangji jumped to his feet and was about to rush forward to aid Wei Wuxian with what remained of his own spiritual energy, but it was over already.

Wei Wuxian’s back rounded, and his arms fell limp into the grass. The pixiu jolted awake and ran around in circles. It looked like it had gone berserk.

“…Wei-xiong?” Nie Huaisang said with an undertone of dread. He poked Wei Wuxian in the shoulder.

There was no reaction.

“W-W-Wei-xiong???”

Lan Wangji stumbled over as fast as he could. His legs were not working reliably after having so much of his energy drained. What kind of state would Wei Wuxian be in?

He squatted in front of Wei Wuxian, grasped his shoulders, and lifted his hunched torso. His eyes were shut tight, and his mouth hung open, threads of saliva beaded on his tongue.

Starting to panic, Lan Wangji pressed three fingers into a groove on Wei Wuxian’s neck. He was warm. His pulse was surprisingly fast.

“Wei Ying?”

“LAN ZHAN!”

With a sadistic grin, Wei Wuxian shot his eyes open and thrust his fingertips into Lan Wangji’s chest, sending a terrifying jolt through his entire body. Lan Wangji’s heart exploded with fright as he tumbled backwards with a gasp.

“Hahahahahahaha!”

Wei Wuxian doubled over in laughter. Nie Huaisang stared in surprise, then soon joined him in the hilarity.

Song Lan appeared over their shoulders, his expression unamused.

“Compose yourselves. This is not a game,” he said. Then he slinked away to a different pair, leaving as abruptly as he came.

Lan Wangji’s tired, sluggish mind was still processing what happened. His fingers curled into his palms, and soon his fists shook with anger. His ears burned red.

“Wei Wuxian.”

“Ahahaha, so once I’m awake, it’s not Wei Ying anymore? Hahahaha! I’m so hurt, Lan Zhan! Maybe I should just stay asleep! Hahahaha!”

Wei Wuxian’s obnoxious demeanor was not even slightly subdued. He didn’t seem to have lost any energy to the pixiu that scampered away into the forest.

“How…How…”

“How did I do it?” Wei Wuxian said with a smirk. He crossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand in one swift, cocky motion.

“Remind me later. I’ll tell you during detention. You have the privilege of supervising me, right?”

Lan Wangji staggered to his feet and glowered down at Wei Wuxian.

“Do not speak to me again.”

* * *

The rest of Song Lan’s class was a blur fringed with silent fury. Lan Wangji’s brain was dominated by a single thought: He did not like Wei Wuxian. At all.

How had he animated the guardian statue by himself without losing energy? Had he and Nie Huaisang conspired just to play a joke on him?

However, he did not want to hear whatever explanation Wei Wuxian planned to offer later. He had heard his distasteful voice enough.

It took until Song Lan dismissed the disciples for Lan Wangji to fully organize his haywire emotions and regain his composure. It had not helped that his body had been exhausted for most of class. But at last, he felt strength and confidence return to his limbs, and his familiar unfaltering tranquility returned to his mind.

For the most part.

Then he remembered—Wen Qing. They needed to discuss the closet portal.

Lan Wangji barely had the chance to look around for the young medical student when she popped up at his side of her own accord.

She pointed an accusatory finger at his chest. “You will not speak a word to anyone about what you saw last night.”

Her brow was stern and authoritative, her eyes hawklike.

This was not a good start to the conversation.

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by liking, reblogging, and visiting me on AO3! New chapters posted every Monday on AO3 and Tuesday on Tumblr.

Ch. 6 > | chapter list

#mdzs fanfiction #the untamed fanfiction #wangxian fanfiction #mdzs fanfic #the untamed fanfic #wangxian fanfic #mdzs #the untamed #cql #wangxian #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #nie huaisang #song lan #song zichen #cantatio #emilu talks

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tanoraqui · 4 years

Text

[Part 1] [Part 2]

[now all on AO3!]

As Nie Huaisang pulls his horse to a halt, as he clumsily dismounts and begs his san-ge to speak with him in private and they walk off to the side of the road together, Nie Huaisang’s eyes down and his fan covering most his face in embarrassment, he thinks very quickly, and decides faster. He’d promised himself he would do that, next time something like this happened

Here is some of what he thinks:

if the lifeblood of Qishan was power and the heart of Qinghe is strength, then the vital spark of Lanling is appearance. Nie Huaisang has always admired this, even yearned for it - imagine being born to a sect in which it was okay to just sit around and look pretty! Sure, they go a bit overboard with gilt, but who wouldn’t, if they had the money? QingheNie has a fortress in the mountains; LanlingJin has a golden tower overlooking one of the biggest ports in the empire, trade and art and culture all within reach

Conversely, they also thrive on secrets - the dark side of golden, glittering appearance. They’re not so different from QishanWen like that, because information is power. That’s why gossip is a thing

Nie Huaisang has no particular reason to distrust Jin Guangyao, personally. He’s always been very kind to Nie Huaisang, bringing him lovely new fans and paints and a beautiful finch one time. Da-ge doesn’t trust him, for reason of some things JGY did in the war, but da-ge has such high standards for conduct that it’s a miracle he trusts anyone after the Sunshot Campaign. (And it’d help if he told NHS anything about those alleged untrustworthy “things”...) Wen Qing doesn’t trust him, but in fairness, it was her side that he betrayed. That could sour anyone. Even putting aside the possibility that she’s deliberately sowing discord for some devilish Wen reason.

Admittedly, anything that Nie Huaisang says to him will almost certainly get back to Jin Guangshan, unless it’s of a truly personal nature - and perhaps even then. Secrets and gossip and power, after all, and it doesn’t take a genius to see that Jin Guangyao is desperate to please his father

even if the old bastard doesn’t deserve it an inch

So the question is, what is Nie Huaisang comfortable having known, and to whom? What does he want to appear as, to whom? And what is he willing to risk coming to light?

He thinks very fast, and soon as they’re well-out of earshot of his disciple-assistants and newly acquired Wen grandmother, he flings himself into Jin Guangyao’s arms, wailing.

(it’s a little difficult, because Jin Guangyao is one of the few men Nie Huaisang knows who’s shorter than he is.)

“San-ge, it’s not my fault! It’s all gone wrong! I just wanted to get out of saber practice, but then Wen Qing told da-ge something completely different, and then she made be get a baby, and - ”

The whole story comes out, in stops and starts mixed with helpless, hapless sobs. Nie Huaisang downplays Wen Qing’s successes with his brother, or at least mostly ignores them. He mentions A-Yuan’s nightmares only so far as they inconvenience himself, doesn’t comment on the Wens’ state of life at all, and generally exaggerates every terrible and bewildering situation he’s found himself in since he first happened to glance at Jiang Yanli at Phoenix Mountain

He figures Jin Guangyao probably sees through at least 20% of it, but that’s okay - that’s only deep enough to pierce the outer layer of overdramatics, which are mostly embellishments of the truth anyway, and maybe judge that Nie Huaisang has a soft heart for a cute kid

it’s a very cute kid, okay. NHS saw Nie Mingjue sneaking A-Yuan a piece of candy once. No one is safe

he doesn’t tell Jin Guangyao that

Nearly an hour later, Jin Guangyao peels Nie Huaisang gently off of his (now quite tear-damp) shoulder and smiles at him. It’s gentle, sympathetic, and the only thing it seems to be hiding is a laugh

Nie Huaisang is 99% sure of this assessment. Fortunately, he’s free to let his relief show, along with some healthy trepidation

“I won’t tell da-ge,” Jin Guangyao says, and there’s barely any humor to be seen dancing in his eyes. It’s really impressive, now that Nie Huaisang is learning what to look for.

“Really?” Nie Huaisang sniffles. “I just- He tries so hard, you know. I don’t want to disappoint him, not really.”

it really is all about using the truth. if it wasn’t so stressful, it’d be an incredible high

“Of course not.” Jin Guangyao squeezes him gently by the shoulders. “What is a san-ge for, if not to look out for his littlest brother?”

Nie Huaisang could definitely make a crack about his height smiles shakily and flings his arms around JGY’s shoulders again. “Oh, thank you! Thank you for your help!”

Jin Guangyao hugs him back gently and efficiently, then starts to tug him back to the waiting horses and by-now-dismounted companions. “Go on, get your A-Yuan’s granny back to Nie Sect and get yourself a good night’s sleep. I’ll make sure they’re both marked correctly as requisitioned for labor in Qinghe”

Nie Huaisang thanks him several more times, wiping away his tears like someone who just remembered that he’s not supposed to appear so weak in public. Jin Guangyao waves goodbye as he mounts his sword and flies away, and Nie Huaisang waves back, and then he and his assistants and his newly acquired A-Yuan’s Granny ride home

[they’re never going to be relevant again but I want you all to know that in my mind, these two dumb bastards are brothers with rhyming names, like, Xi Ping and Xi Ying or something. RIP Xi Ping and Xi Ying and their eardrums after NMJ reams them out for helping NHS do something stupid again]

And then...

they actually have peace for several months.

Oh, the cold war between Jing and Jiang - or more accurately, between Jin and Wei Wuxian - is still brewing like fine tea, and Nie Huaisang finds himself paying more attention than usual to the gossip about it, because Wens come up as often as not. They're the prime example of the destructive power of the Stygian Tiger Seal, after all. And NHS has four of them living in his house, now

the gossip spikes deliciously when Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan get engaged, though it somehow neither eases nor increases the tension in either side

{the timeline is rubbish anyway, so it’s whatever’s convenient for this fic, thank you very much}

Nie Sect’s physicians are too proud to let Wen Qing take over their infirmary wholesale, but they don’t hesitate to consult with her on pretty much everything. Wen Ning turns out to be pretty fun to play checkers with, whether he lets Nie Huaisang win or gets invested enough to actually put up a good fight. Despite Granny’s addition to the orphan-caring staff, A-Yuan still slips away most days and follows Nie Huaisang around like a particularly persistent curse-construct. On the plus side, he’s learning how to be patient enough that the bolder birds will sit on him as readily as on Nie Huaisang himself, and he painted an entirely acceptable butterfly the other day.

Oh, and the veins in Nie Mingjue’s neck are only visible when he shouts, now, and enough time has passed that he’s forgotten about Nie Huaisang’s earlier, rash promise to practice saber for an extra half hour each day. Or maybe he’s just resigned to the fact that such promises never last. This is truly the best timeline!

And then the worst happens, out of the blue yet in retrospect inevitable: Nie Mingjue has a severe qi deviation

He’s coming back from a meeting in Lanling, which wasn’t so much a discussion conference as Jin Guangshan calling a handful of sect leaders together to bitch about the Wei Wuxian and the Tiger Seal again. Wen Qing is in the infirmary, setting a young disciple’s broken leg. Nie Huaisang is in his bedroom, trying to write an ode to snowflakes that, read aloud, is a single tone off from a recitation of curse words for the entire poem. They both hear the shouting from the main courtyard

Wen Qing has a doctor’s reflexes; she leaves the leg to an assistant and arrives in the courtyard in time to watch Nie Mingjue collapse out of the air. The disciples who accompanied him to Lanling are there to catch him, ease him down gently, but Baxia clatters to the ground

Nie Huaisang sees it from his window. By the time he gets there, his brother is laid out flat and Wen Qing and the Chief Physician are snapping clipped phrases at each other as they assess his status, in the mode of emergency responders everywhere

the Chief Physician doesn’t like Wen Qing, doesn’t like Wens, but he can respect her medical talents. Both sentiments are mutual - Wen Qing has a much more comprehensive skillset, but if there’s anything Nie healers know, it’s how to handle qi deviation

qi deviations are difficult and dangerous to treat - the spiritual energy starts cascading through a cultivator’s body, untamed and harmful, and adding soothing energy may help but it may make it worse, or even cause the chaos to spread to the would-be healer

{I actually have no idea how any of this works, and will henceforth be making up my own worldbuilding}

Nie Mingjue’s eyes have rolled back in his head, bleeding, and he shakes like a leaf in the wind, incongruous to the warrior who led attacks on the Nightless City itself. Who held his brother like a guarding stone wall at their father’s funeral. Nie Huaisang cannot breathe

they get him stabilized enough to move up to the infirmary. Someone eases up their grip on Nie Huaisang’s body so he could follow (he won’t remember until later that he was being held back)

It takes four hours to stabilize him fully (unlucky). His golden core tries to collapse three times, his heart stops twice, and his fucking saber tries to attack them once, seemingly of its own initiative. Several other healers join in as needed, even Wen Ning - he’s always been good at getting seizing patients to still. Wen Qing rates it below the 39-hour golden core transfer with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, in terms of worst surgeries of her life, but above nearly everything else, including the emergency liver transfer where the girl turned out to have all her organs on the opposite side and a side order of demon-induced pneumonia

Nie Huaisang has been sitting in the corridor outside, on the floor. Someone's put a cloak on him. He looks up when they exit, forgetting how to breath again.

“He’s unconscious,” says the Chief Physician, who is probably some sort of distant uncle/cousin. “But he should wake. He will wake,” he corrects.

Wen Qing takes a deep breath. “We need to talk somewhere private.”

By the time Nie Huaisang has at least gotten to see his brother, get proof that he’s still breathing, the First Disciple has joined them as well (I mean, that position is sure as hell not held by NHS). Her name is Han Xiaoshi and she’s built in the same mold as the sect leader: tall, broad, wields her saber like a third hand. She leans against the closed door of the Chief Physician’s office while the Chief Physician - let’s say Nie Fengji - gives a slightly less brief explanation of the sect leader’s current state.

(it’s not good. he’s in a semi-medically induced coma. he is bleeding neither blood nor spiritual energy. he...should wake, in his own time, if they continue to carefully feed his healing energy)

(if he wakes within three days, he will be fine. for now)

Nie Huaisang’s blood pounds hot and panicked in his ears; an unthinking fan covers his face.

they all turn to Wen Qing, who wanted privacy.

Wen Qing soothes hands over her skirt, still blood-flecked, and lifts her chin calmly. Addresses the First Disciple more than anyone. “Before I begin, would you please put a guard each on my bedroom and the apothecary, and my brother’s room as well?”

“What? Why?” asks Nie Huaisang, bewildered. Han Xiaoshi echoes more sternly

She smiles thinly. “I’d rather not be accused of trying to assassinate Chifeng-zun.”

Nie Huaisang’s blood turns cold

“Keep talking,” says Han Xiaoshi

Here’s what Wen Qing explains: there’s an herb grown on the same volcanic slopes into which the Nightless City is set, a grass that absorbs so much yin energy from the volcano that it carries it over into anyone who consumes the stalks, offsetting the natural balance of their spiritual energy. A closely guarded inner clan secret. It can allow for rare, advanced cultivation techniques (including demonic ones)...or it can spark a fatal qi deviation the next time the user tries to do anything spiritually strenuous. Like flying from Carp Tower to the Unclean Realm

“It’s almost impossible to detect in the blood,” she finishes. “But I recognize the pattern of its effects.” Her hands are clasped loosely in front of her. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find some planted in a place that draws suspicion to A-Ning or myself.”

“Who else would know about it?” Nie Huaisang demands, trembling even as the ice is settles into his veins

“Someone who was close to Wen Ruohan,” she says calmly

they all know who she means

(oh, how she wants to tremble, too, too aware of every sword in the room that could be turned against her. Aware of A-Yuan and Granny and Wen Ning, her brother in the corridor just outside, and how it still hasn’t been a year since Wen blood ran in the flagstones of this castle. But Wen Qing has never been one to shake)

“There’s something else I should say,” she admits, to Nie Huaisang more than anyone. “I don’t actually know much about qi deviation - I’ve had a crash course, obviously, and I’m not a fool, but I’m mostly been treating it as a blood pressure problem - ”

“Obviously,” the Chief Physician scoffs

“ - but my Uncle Six is a true expert. Wen Zhichen - he was friends with your aunt, Huaisang-gongzi; your older sister, Fengji-shifu [the previous Chief Physician, killed in battle in the fifth month of the Sunshot Campaign]. If anyone can wake Nie-zongzhi, it’s him - ”

she could have said this earlier, could have said it weeks ago, or even from the start - but she had Wen Ning to think of before anyone else, and then A-Yuan who was too young to have accumulated crimes even as a Wen...

Wen Qing had once noted that the second son of Nie had likely never felt fear, true fear, in his life. That’s not true anymore. His brother is unconscious in the next room over and it’s not sure if he’ll ever wake. And it’s consequences catching up with him again, for real this time, this maybe-first time - was it the Wens, villainous duplicitous Wens that he brought into their home himself? Was it someone else, equally traitorous, suspicion roused to a killing intent by something Huaisang did himself?

People do a lot things when they’re feel fear deep down to their souls. They scrape and bow; they make bargains they shouldn’t, accept costs they can’t. They bend or they break

Nie Huaisang is a fop by preference, but it turns out that he breaks like a Nie

He shoves Wen Qing against the wall, hand on her throat. “Tell me this isn’t a trick. Tell me this isn’t some fucking ploy to get more Wen-dogs into my home, so you can finish killing my brother.” He shakes her, drops the fan to put his hand on the saber he's terrible with (it still hums eagerly for blood.) “Tell me.”

“I am,” she gasps

There is a tableau. Then Nie Huaisang drops her and strides for the door. “Shijie, put guards on her rooms, her brother’s, and Granny’s,” he snaps to Han Xiaoshi. “Don’t let anyone enter. Gather the Wens all in the third guest bedroom and keep them there - make sure A-Yuan has some paints to keep him quiet. And I’ll need your two fastest - no, those with the best strength and endurance in flight - ”

“Nephew - ” says the Chief Physician, and “Young Master,” says the First Disciple, a little impressed and a medium dubious

the closest Nie Huaisang has ever gotten to this commanding before was the early days of the Sunshot Campaign when there were no battle lines to hide behind yet, when he sometimes followed Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji as they tore across the country and directed the clean-up of their wake

“The best strength and endurance,” he repeats over them. The fan stays on the floor. “We’re flying to Qishan - we’ll be back with an extra expert for you in a couple days, Uncle. In the meantime, you can have Wen Qing if you need her, but otherwise they all stay in the third guest room.”

It takes a full day to fly to the Wen settlement in Qishan, at Nie Huaisang’s best pace. Starting already late in the afternoon, full of anger and terrified panic in equal measure, it’s beyond late by the time they near - and all but the anger has simmered away. Nie Huaisang lets them settle near the nearest halfway decent city instead, forces himself to lay on the ground and try to sleep, and sends one of his disciples out to buy the nicest fan they can find. He left so fast, he forgot to pick one up again

When they land in the filthy little town just after dawn, he stumbles off his sword more than lands (he is genuinely tired, at least) and runs to hammer on the door of the supervisory office, all terror and panic. “Jin-guniang! Jin-guniang! Help, help! It’s me, Nie Huaisang! I need - ”

“What?!” The captain yanks the door open (she sleeps above the office) and he very much does fall into her arms

“Ah, you have to help me!” He’s disheveled with flight and weepy with tears. “Wen Qing poisoned my brother and now he won’t wake up, so I have to find her sixth uncle - ”

“What - Nie Huaisang, what? Is she threatening - that Wen-bitch - ”

“No, no, we beat up her brother until she said - please! He’s the best at qi deviation, even Uncle Physician admitted it - ”

make sure to have Wen Ning beaten up just enough to look good, he notes in a small, back corner of his mind. in case there are spies in the castle. I’d have spies, if I could

“Okay, okay!” Jin Qixian ushers him into the office, half-holding him up. “Let me check the list of residences - sit down, Huaisang-gongxi, someone will brew tea...”

[five minutes later...]

“A different camp?” Nie Huaisang cries, fluttering his new fan in dismay

“They needed a healer...” Jin Qixian says apologetically. “But you just wait here, I’ll send someone - ”

“No, no,” Nie Huaisang gets to his feet, shaking his head. Happy to let the exhaustion of a 10-hour flight and 4 hours fitful sleep in the woods show, and the desperate helplessness that’s really not hard to fake. “I have to- Da-ge is counting on me - ”

He waves off all her attempted reassurances, bullheaded with anxiety, and accepts an officially sealed note of authority with babbling gratitude, and...

[about an hour and a half later...]

the other town the remnants of the Wen sect and soldiers have been relegated to is more of a city, really - cramped and filthy, where the other one was merely destitute and filthy. Families living all in one room or worse, and it’s okay because they’re only home to sleep; the fields are already filled with everyone old enough to work. They probably do need healers, because there’s not enough attention being paid to waste management. But -

“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Nie Huaisang demands more sharply than he’d intended

Focus, A-Sang. It’s Nie Mingjue’s voice in his head, always, as though this was just another hated saber practice

“I’m sorry, Young Master Nie,” says the disciple in charge of this place - Jin Guangchao, another stray cousin. does everyone in that family spread seed like a watering can? “There was an incident a few days ago - ”

“He’s dead?” Nie Huaisang wails, sinking to ground

“No!” Jin Guangchao looks a little disgusted at his helplessness, but bends down to pull him up anyway. “Jin Zixun came around on an inspection and that one you wanted, he was impudent. Jin Zixun ordered him sent to the work camp at Qiongqi Pass.”

mother of fucking fucker [meaning Jin Zixun; meaning the whole situation]. the man probably made eye contact and that overbearing asshole -

“That’s so far away!” Nie Huaisang whined, staying limp, crying into his fan

“Nie-shixiong, it is on the way - ” one of his disciples offers uncertainly (poor bastards - he’s really yanking them around. They’re not sure if they’re helping a con or offering real support)

“We’ll get him back to Chifeng-zun, and get Chifeng-zun back on his feet,” says the other, slipping her arm under his and pulling him to his own feet. “Come on, you’ll see”

(whether it’s for the con or not, Nie Huaisang appreciates it. They’ve never been this genuinely nice to him before)

there’s a conversation in the air halfway to Qiongqi Pass. It goes like this:

“Nie-shixiong, we have to rest. You have to rest.”

[gritted teeth] “I’m fine.”

“You’re going to fall off your sword.” (Liu Lifang, the older woman)

“Then you’ll carry me, won’t you? We’ll already have Wen Zhichen - we’ll double up.”

“Your, uh, dramatics - ” (Zhao Huandi, younger, male - there aren’t a lot of Nies, in Nie. There’s a lot of guest cultivators. There’s a lot of turnover.)

“Will be just as good, if not better, when I’m fainting from spiritual exhaustion.” [slightly bitter, mostly factual] “Don’t worry, I won’t deviate - I don’t use my saber enough for that.” [definitely exhausted] “We don’t stop.”

The work camp at Qiongqi Pass has all the bully-filled charm of Jin Qixian’s town and all the overworked labor je-ne-sais-quoi of the other one, and it’s started raining so there’s a really nice note of despair. If Nie Huaisang had any room left in his brain, he would mourn the beauty of the frescos being destroyed, grand and glorious works of art even if their glory was that of the Wens

he slides off Liu Lifang’s sword in the middle of the densest group of workers, cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Hey! Wen Qing’s Sixth Uncle, Wen Zhichen of DafanWen! Nie Sect requisitions you!”

the prisoner-workers all shrink away; an inspector hurries over. “Hey, who are you - ”

“You will respect Second Master Nie Huaisang,” snaps Zhao Huandi, hand on his saber while Nie Huaisang starts to cry on cue for the third time that day, and god, either they’re really getting it or he’s just blessed with a sect full of perfect straight men.

“Please,” Nie Huaisang begs, leaning on his disciple and waving the letter from Jin Qixian. “I need a healer - that healer, it’s my brother, he’s been poisoned - ”

they’re real tears of exhaustion. maybe he should have let them talk him into a rest

(Da-ge will be fine, he knows, he insists to himself and the world. He was stable 24 hours ago and Nie Huaisang left him with the most competent people he knows)

the inspector has no idea what to do with him and neither does the Chief Inspector, really, when he rides up. That’s perfect - it means their half-hearted objections are easy to push past

they’re still shit at actually helping, because they don’t know a single person in this goddamned work-prison, and all the Wens just shy away, or pick up a pickaxe and try to keep working if anyone comes too near. The inspectors seem to regard this as ideal

Nie Huaisang honestly doesn’t care right now, but he does notice

Finally Nie Huaisang has wailed loudly enough up and down the valley that one prisoner hesitantly steps forward and admits to being the Dafan Wens’ Sixth Uncle. He has Wen Ning’s ears and Granny’s eyes and the same needle callouses as Wen Qing, so Nie Huaisang calls it a day

except they still have to fly back to the Unclean Realm, a flight of six hours unburdened

Nie Huaisang’s groan is entirely genuine

Wen Qing has taken to pacing by the time the Chief Physician comes to fetch her, personally, from the third guest bedroom. Night has come and gone and come again; A-Yuan and Granny are both asleep in the bed and Wen Ning is lying beside them, though she can tell he’s only pretending to sleep to make her feel better. What a good boy.

Sixth Uncle is sitting by Nie Mingjue’s bed in the infirmary, eating soup. There’s a couple Nie disciples in the room as well, one sending a slight stream of energy into Nie Mingjue and one simply watching the Wen, a hand on his saber hilt

(no one’s told her if they’ve searched her or anyone else’s rooms, yet; if they found anything)

“Keep sitting and eating!” snaps Nie Fengji, the Chief Physician, before Sixth Uncle can leap up at the sight of Wen Qing. “I need you talking qi balance, not falling over again.” He mutters under his breath, “People can’t even work if you let them get so weak - can’t trust a Jin to do anything with care.”

She sinks to her knees to hug her uncle instead - and notices a cot that’s been brought in to sit beside Nie Mingjue’s, its occupant also as still and wan as the grave.

“Huaisang!” She springs to her feet. “He didn’t - ”

“Exhaustion. The boy overworked his golden core and passed out.” Nie Fengji pushes her back with a roll of his eyes. “Bullheaded as their father, the both of them.”

He rolls up his sleeves and nudges the attending physician out of the way, to take over easing calming energy into Nie Mingjue without a single quiver in the stream. “Now, you two prove to me why I should trust any sort of Wen.”

To be continued...but Part 4 really will be the last, so, that’s p good actually. By my standards of mis-estimation of how long a piece of writing will be. And it’ll definitely be a short one! Unlike this Part 3, which is...*checks* 4.5k WTF.

#mdzs #the untamed #nie huaisang #wen qing #jin guangyao #a bunch of OCs who i named by mashing together random syllables and i'm not checking if any of them are real names bc it's 3am #ALSO wildly made up as i went: how to address anyone with any sort of title #just went with my gut #so like...apologies if i wildly messed up

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imaginaryelle · 5 years

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Meta: Luminaries and Power in MDZS

Apparently I’m doing meta for the Untamed Winterfest “star” prompt (day 14) because I keep thinking about “rising stars” and “falling stars” and supernovas and the sun and guiding stars, which makes me think a lot (a lot a lot) about Wei Wuxian, and the Wens, and Jin Guangyao, and Lan Wangji.

Like, we have the Wens here, right?

And the Wens are basically the cautionary tale for the whole rest of the plot. “Do Not Covet Power” the story tells us over, and over and over, “Power Will Turn Against You,” but the Wens come (chronologically) first. They wear the sun, and the phoenix. They stand triumphant, the brightest star in the sky, and they start thinking that means they are the sun, the source from which all other power flows, the unkillable generator of life. And so the sun turns scorching—there are too many suns in the sky, shoot them down or all life will burn—and the rest of the world snuffs them out, one by one (until one single sun is left, excuse me while I cry over A-Yuan; okay, we’re good).

Pretty blatant, in-your-face cautionary tale for a whole generation, right? Maybe even two generations? “Hey, look, those people over there, they tried to gather up all the power and they died horribly, maybe we should not do that.” Except none of them learn anything. Anything. They still all think it’s about who’s right, completely ignoring the fact that they’re all operating under a “might makes right” mentality, the lot of them (Especially Jin Guangshaun, of course).

Wei Wuxian starts out as a rising star—the child who came from nothing, but he has so much talent and he shines so bright that no one can ignore him. Even when they hate him, they can’t look away. (He’s also pretty much the only cultivator who regularly talks to the everyday people of the world as if they’re equals, but that’s a whole other thing.) He freely gives power away when he gives Jiang Cheng his golden core. It doesn’t define him, it’s just a tool, which has been very useful but which he can do without.

Honestly, I think if Wen Chao hadn’t found him and dropped him in the Burial Mounds he would have found something else to do. He’d likely stay with Jiang Cheng (who would have to know about him not having a core, once he found Wei Wuxian basically half-dead in that town, I don’t think Wei Wuxian was originally planning to hide that part once it was finished), and still be part of the Jiang sect and consult on tactics and do work that you don’t have to be a cultivator to do (which is a lot, really). He’d still have all the competent-gentleman-skills: archery, riding, calligraphy, etiquette and math, as well as all the general knowledge he’s collected from a truly rarefied education. He can’t use a cultivator’s sword, and he’ll never attain immortality, but there are plenty of other cultivators whose sword skills and quest for a longer lifespan are suspect. Maybe he’d still go on night hunts. Maybe he’d write excellent training manuals or mentor Jiang-sect kids. Maybe he’d make lots of talismans and just wave that in everyone’s faces, idk, it’s really hard to say how talismans work in this universe. Point is, I think he would’ve made things work in a less drastic way than what he ended up with, because at the time the power didn’t matter to him.

But instead Wen Chao does find him and does drop him into the Burial Mound, and whatever happens there (I really, really want to know what happens there), he comes out of it with TOO MUCH power. Power no one has ever seen before. It’s the only way he can survive there. He hoards power for good reasons, for his own survival and (later) to ensure the survival of others, but he is absolutely biting off more than he can actually deal with, and it immediately starts fucking up his life. He’s a supernova in the making. That bottomless source of power not based on his own physical limits + the Tiger Seal + his apparently endless well of traumatic life events means that he is absolutely going to collapse in on himself at some point. He loses reputation, and standing, and then people. He is almost universally reviled, with multiple actions both correctly and falsely attributed to his name. He knows it’s happening—Who can tell me what I’m supposed to do now?—he’s lost every reason he had for hoarding the power in the first place, he’s having uncontrolled explosions of power where thousands of people die, and so he tries to give the power back by destroying the seal so no one can have that power, but power doesn’t work that way: it has to go somewhere, and it goes through him in an event that people are still talking about over a decade later.

And yet. Does anyone learn anything? “Hey, that seal seems like a super dangerous tool there, maybe it should … not be used ever again? Be destroyed? It made that guy incredibly unstable and then he exploded over the whole cultivation world, maybe we should… not?”

No, of course not. (Aside from Lan Wangji, the Nie sect and Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji seems to have developed this knowledge early. Wei Wuxian learns the lesson; it goes hand-in-hand with his (novel) daydreams of leaving the life of a cultivator to be a farmer with Lan Wangji. I think Nie Mingjue knew it too, because the Nie sect has some themes going on with the damage power can do, but he didn’t get a chance to talk about it much. Nie Huaisang, in addition to Nie sect things, is very observant and doesn’t have strong ambition at all until he starts getting fucked with, so he has less to figure out on this front.)

Everyone else still thinks it was about the Wens, and “corruption” and that Wei Wuxian was just wrong, even though they were the ones you know… killing children and elderly people in a culture that supposedly values both quite highly. Power is just power, right? Nothing wrong with power, in fact, maybe we should expand that power even more, with a centralized system of control. Supervisor posts? No, no, these are watchtowers. They’re for your benefit too, I promise. Also blackmail, lets use lots of blackmail and some really deep dungeons, but it’s totally okay because it’s us doing it, right.

Jin Guanyao is Hou Yi, the archer who shot down the sun (that link again), and rose to become an imperial tyrant—whose cruelty led his wife to abandon him (I’ve read multiple versions of Hou Yi, but this one fits here) and cut short his quest for immortality. His whole life is about gathering power, and justifiably so given how aware he is of the precarious nature of his position for most of it. Anytime someone feels like it, they can cut him down with a single reference to his mother. It doesn’t matter what his talents are, or how clever or well-spoken he is. Everything he’s built up for himself can be taken away in an instant, because he’s the son of a prostitute and that means he doesn’t matter. This is not to say that he doesn’t deserve Nie Mingjue’s reprisal or Nie Huaisang’s revenge, of course. He absolutely does horrific, terrible things every step of the way, and for entirely selfish reasons. But he’s Wie Wuxian’s closest foil: here’s what happens when someone of merit, rather than bloodline, seeks power: they’re creative, and innovative, and oh boy are they going to shake the world. This is what happens when cruelty and manipulation take the place of love and affection in a child’s life: each perpetuates itself on a larger scale—I will kill even those closest to me vs. I will die to protect a stranger. This is how the quest for power plays out when the motivation is selfishness, rather than selflessness. In the end, both are inherently flawed, because the power itself is the root of the problem.

Unlike Wei Wuxian, Jin Guanyao holds onto his power until the very last second. Literally, any scrap, even just Lan Xichen’s affection for him. His fall is fast, and guttering—so fast that it’s over before most of the world even knows it’s started. He’s a meteorite, his origins worse than obscure, growing ever brighter in the sky until he crashes to earth, leaving devastation in his wake. And I mean that literally, the power-structure of the world is shattered by the dual events of his exposure and his death. It’s so completely broken that in their rush to consolidate power once more, the person all these leaders turn to is Lan Wangji, who just happens to be the most reputable guy still standing at the end.

So, let’s look at Hanguang-jun, the Light-Bearer.

Lan Wangji is the lodestar. He’s a constant that rarely, if ever, wavers in his convictions, and for the purpose of the plot he’s effectively the example of what an “ideal” cultivator should be (I know other people have written about LWJ and the Confucian ideal, especially @rustycol so I’m not going far into that here). He’s arguably the most successful character in the canon. He has both bloodline and merit working in his favor, and he’s pretty much the most respected cultivator in the world by the time he’s 35 (ages in this canon are a mess). He can disobey or even betray his clan and not be uprooted, which is a luxury literally no one else has (yes, he’s punished, yes, there are consequences, but he attacked 33 elders and didn’t get kicked out or killed! He’s still respected and part of the clan! Don’t tell me that’s not because he’s the clan leader’s bloodline—there are a lot of things that can be said about LWJ and his clan and morality but they’re for yet another post).

The protagonist thinks highly of him. The next generation looks up to him, pretty much universally. He is respected even by people who don’t like him, and has almost zero actual enemies (Su She isn’t even a luminary in this meta analogy, Su She is a dude with a lantern trying to blame the stars for the fact that he can’t fly). Lan Wangji is the guiding light that goes into dark places where chaos reigns and brings clarity, and calm, and (often unforgiving) justice. He doesn’t seek power, and he doesn’t hoard it. In the novel, the only prize he takes away from Jin Guanyao’s fall is the certain knowledge of Wei Wuxian’s love. He doesn’t want anything else, and that’s why he gets to walk off into the sunset with the love of his life and keep his peerless reputation, even in a culture as steeped in homophobia as the novel’s world. Obviously the drama has a different ending, but I think the point still stands: Lan Wangji is so well-respected and utterly reliable that I doubt anyone even thinks twice about offering him the position of Chief Cultivator. Who else could they choose, shocked and appalled as they are in Jun Guanyao’s wake, but the star that never moves no matter how the heavens turn?

It’s been a rough 15 years. Between Lan Wangji, Nie Huaisang and that last Wen child, maybe they’ll finally get that lesson about hoarding power to stick in a few more people’s minds. We can only hope.

#untamed winter fest #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #mdzs meta #the untamed meta #wei wuxian #lan wangji #jin guangyao #long post #theres more about the nie sect #but i dont have a star ready #so #next time #alex writes

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