#of course his place in the sect is secure! it always was! she acts like she owns him!

[llycaons]

Perhaps ironically, Jiang Fengmian's death made Wei Wuxian's place in the sect more secure, not less. Yu-furen always had a better eye for politics than Jiang Fengmian did, and most of her conflict stemmed from her husband showing more public support and approval for his friend's kid than for his own son and heir.

hey are you out of your fucking mind

[cqlfeels]

@lansplaining encouraged me to finish this random meta nobody asked for, so let's talk about Meng Yao, Meng Shi, and 孟母三遷 (mèng mǔ sān qiān), a proverb about good parenting.

A warning: this is super long (even for me!) and is less quality meta and more my ADHD brain jumping around a maze of loosely related ideas. Proceed with caution!

Let me start by briefly going through why I decided to write this, because it’s important. In haunting Meng Shi’s tag in my starvation for Meng Shi content, I’ve multiple times come across the idea that Meng Shi pushed Meng Yao too hard, that she should’ve been more careful with teaching him to seek his father’s approval at any cost, and that she was too naïve. I’ve never reblogged this kind of post because 1) I personally think it’s rude to go out of your way to ramble about how much you disagree with someone on their own post and 2) if this was an isolated incident I wouldn't care either way, so I didn’t want to direct this rant at anyone in particular. It’s more to do with a tendency, primarily (as far as I can tell) from fans who haven’t had much contact with Chinese culture, to oversimplify Meng Shi and make her relationship with Meng Yao slightly disturbing, and I think part of it is due to CQL basically cutting out her entire storyline (so fans simply don’t have info about her to assess her fairly) and part is due to misunderstanding what a good parent is supposed to act like in the context of Ancient China.

[Of course, Ancient China is not a very useful historical concept, not any more than “ye olde Europe” - things change a lot based on time and place - but you know. It’s fantasy. Extremely broad trends are okay in this case.]

Anyway, the idea behind the posts I mentioned is, basically, that Meng Shi (usually through no fault of her own) is to blame for Meng Yao’s obsession with power, since his desire for approval was inherited from lessons she taught him. Just to start with, I’d argue that Meng Yao isn’t power-hungry as much as he craves security and respect, but that’s a different meta. Let’s assume that she really did teach him to be Like That. Was she wrong to do so? I’m not looking for “does that make for a happy, well-adjusted childhood?” or “would you raise your own son as Meng Shi did?” - I’m trying to figure out, would she have been considered a bad mother in the context of the society she lived in? I don’t think she would’ve.

It is surprisingly hard to find texts about the obligations of parents in Ancient China. Their main obligation is to raise filial children, but I feel like that’s not very useful: whether or not parents are good parents, children are expected to be filial, so a child being filial really says more about the child than about the parent. Maybe the parent completely missed the mark and society at large was what taught the child to be filial!

We can assume, of course, that parents were to raise good people, and that by learning what a good person looked like, we could figure out whether the parent was successful, but once again, I feel like that’s pinning things on the outcome, not on the process - the best of parents can end up with an awful kid and vice versa.

While thinking about all this, it took me a frankly embarrassing amount of time to remember the story of Mother Meng and Meng Zi, but once I did, it wouldn’t leave my mind - in part because the Meng here is the exact same Meng of Meng Shi and Meng Yao (yay! fun if useless parallel!), and in part because this is a story about how a woman can successfully raise a son by herself.

Okay, so important note: one of the most influential ancient Chinese thinkers is Meng Zi (孟子 Mèng Zǐ), who is known in the West as Mencius. If you've never heard of him - he's perhaps second in importance only to Confucius. When Mencius was still a young child, his father died, so he was raised by his mother, who is usually known only as Mother Meng (in Chinese, 孟母 Mèng Mǔ.)

Mother Meng's story is told in Biographies of Exemplary Women (列女傳 Liènǚ Zhuàn), which for around 2000 years beginning around the 18th century BCE, was the most commonly used book used to educate women. The book is divided into sections, each one showing a different way women could be honorable and good. Mother Meng's story is told in the Maternal Models section (母儀傳 Mǔ Yí Zhuàn.) The story has a few parts, some of which I'll quote, always from Kinney's 2014 translation.

Before I go on to quote it, though, I'd like to establish that Mother Meng's story is so, so famous that even if Meng Shi had never read this particular book, I'm almost certain she would've been familiar with at least the outlines of Mother Meng's story. I'm not cherry picking a suitable chapter from the book, I'm literally going with the most famous story in it because Meng Shi would be most likely to know this one if she knew no other story.

Okay, the first part of the tale takes place when Mencius is a young boy and Mother Meng is a widow raising him.

The mother of Meng Ke of Zou [a different name for Mencius] was called Mother Meng. She lived near a graveyard. During Mencius’ youth, he enjoyed playing among the tombs, romping about pretending to prepare the ground for burials. Mother Meng said, “This is not the place to raise my son.” She therefore moved away and settled beside the marketplace. But there he liked to play at displaying and selling wares like a merchant. Again Mother Meng said, “This is not the place to raise my son,” and once more left and settled beside a school. There, however, he played at setting out sacrificial vessels, bowing, yielding, entering, and withdrawing. His mother said, “This, indeed, is where I can raise my son!” and settled there. When Mencius grew up, he studied the Six Arts, and finally became known as a great classicist. A man of discernment would say, “Mother Meng was good at gradual transformation.”

According to the translator's footnote, "gradual transformation" is "a childrearing technique, whereby a child is morally formed through daily exposure to correct models of behavior."

From this story comes the proverb 孟母三遷 (Mèng Mǔ sān qiān) - "Mother Meng moved three times." It's come to mean that a parent - especially the mother of a male child - should spare no efforts to provide an environment that will give their child a good education, paying particular attention to what models are surrounding them.

I'm sure I don't need to say if Meng Shi was at all familiar with this proverb (and she would probably be), she must have been very stressed out over literally raising her son in a brothel. (Here I must mention sex workers in ancient China were often essentially owned by the brothels, so literally "moving three times" wasn't really an option for Meng Shi even if she could miraculously pick up another trade.) Meng Shi did however at least try to surround Meng Yao with the accomplishments appropriate for the son of a cultivator:

Xiao-Meng, are you still learning those things lately? [...] The things your mom wants you to learn, things like calligraphy, etiquette, swordsmanship, meditation… How are those things going? [...] His mom’s raising him as a young master of a wealthy family. She taught him how to read and write, bought him all those swordsmanship pamphlets, and even wants to send him to school.

Meng Yao actually talks a little bit about “those swordsmanship pamphlets” in the only time in canon he directly shares memories about this mother:

Lan XiChen, “Your [guqin] skills are also considered quite fine outside of Gusu. Were they taught by your mother?”

Jin GuangYao, “No. I taught myself by watching others. She never taught me such things. She only taught me reading and writing, and bought a handful of expensive sword and cultivation guides for me to practice.”

Lan XiChen seemed surprised, “Sword and cultivation guides?”

Jin GuangYao, “Brother, you haven’t seen them before, have you? Those small booklets sold by the common folk. First jumbled sketches of human figures, then deliberately mystified captions.”

Lan XiChen shook his head, smiling. Jin GuangYao shook his head as well, “All of them are scams, especially to fool women like my mother and ignorant children. You won’t lose anything by practicing them, but you definitely won’t gain anything either.”

He sighed in a rueful way, “But how could my mother have known this? She bought them no matter how expensive they were, saying that if I returned to see my father in the future, I had to see him with as much competence as possible so that I don’t fall behind. All of the money was spent on this.”

See what’s happening? Meng Shi cannot physically take Meng Yao to cultivators, but she spares no efforts in giving him the closest thing she possibly can -- figuratively, we might say she moved three times.

Of course, these booklets don’t work, but as Meng Yao says, how could she have known this? The cultivation world is very closed off - think of how the entire Mo household gathers to see Lan juniors, and how Wei Wuxian mentions once that “Cultivation families, in the eyes of common folk, are like people favored by God, mysterious yet noble.” Not just noble, but mysterious. That tracks, too - I mean, they live in inaccessible households and mostly leave to night hunt or visit each other, neither of which is an activity that would allow commoners to get much more than an occasional glimpse of them.

Now, if Meng Shi doesn’t even know that a pearl for Jin Guangshan was just a trinket, if she doesn’t know even the wealth of a major sect, how can she read booklets and decide whether that’s genuine cultivation or not? All that she sees is a chance for Meng Yao to be surrounded by the ideas and skills of the people she wants him to emulate - cultivators - and therefore she does everything she can to get him that chance. Mother Meng moved three times.

Okay, but maybe the argument is not “Meng Shi shouldn’t have pushed Meng Yao to cultivation” but rather “she should’ve pushed him, just not too hard." To that, I present another tale from Mencius' childhood:

Once, when Mencius was young, he returned home after finishing his lessons and found his mother spinning. She asked him, “How far did you get in your studies today?” Mencius replied, “I’m in about the same place as I was before.” Mother Meng thereupon took up a knife and cut her weaving. Mencius was alarmed and asked her to explain. Mother Meng said, “Your abandoning your study is like my cutting this weaving. A man of discernment studies in order to establish a name and inquires to become broadly knowledgeable. By this means, when he is at rest, he can maintain tranquility and when he is active, he can keep trouble at a distance. If now you abandon your studies, you will not escape a life of menial servitude and will lack the means to keep yourself from misfortune. How is this different from weaving and spinning to eat? If one abandons these tasks midway, how can one clothe one’s husband and child and avoid being perpetually short of food? If a woman abandons that with which she nourishes others and a man is careless about cultivating his virtue, if they don’t become brigands or thieves, then they will end up as slaves or servants.” Mencius was afraid. Morning and evening he studied hard without ceasing. He served Zisi [a great scholar whose grandfather was Confucius] as his teacher and then became one of the most renowned classicists in the world.

Notice that Mother Meng moved three times to ensure Mencius would have the highest of aspirations - to become a scholar. But just aspiration isn’t enough. Not by any means. Now that Mencius is actually studying, Mother Meng is willing to take an extreme action to ensure he's taking it seriously. Mencius doesn't have a father to smooth his path to success. He has to learn that aspiring to greatness isn't enough. He'll have to put in the effort as if his life depended on it. And if he doesn't persist in his hard work, everything he's done thus far will be useless. Sounds like a lesson imparted on young Meng Yao, doesn’t it?

A lot of fandom rage towards Meng Shi would apply to China's Best Mom Contender, Mother Meng. She gives her son big dreams, and teaches him how to go about achieving them in a society where failing is easier than succeeding. Yes, it's fair to say that Meng Shi taught Meng Yao to refuse to settle for anything less than being “Jin Guangshan's son, a respected cultivator.” Yes, it's also fair to say that she probably didn't allow him much time to play like children his age did. But unfortunately, in the world of MDZS, poor children probably wouldn't get to play anyhow, the difference is that they'd usually be working, not studying. Studying is a privilege! It’s a privilege Meng Yao could not afford but was given to him anyway, through his mother’s many sacrifices. We can even say that while she was alive, Meng Shi was trying to ensure Meng Yao would one day have a better life, at the expense of a fun childhood - and that's very Mother Meng of her, whatever our modern Western sensibilities might have to say about that.

Finally, I’d skip other tales (which show Mother Meng and an adult Mencius) and go straight to the poem that ends the Mother Meng section:

The mother of Mencius

Was able to teach, transform, judge, and discriminate.

With skill she selected a place to raise her son,

Prompting him to accord with the great principles.

When her son’s studies did not advance,

She cut her weaving to illustrate her point.

Her son then perfected his virtue;

His achievements rank as the crowning glory of his generation.

I’d like to focus on the last verse - “His achievements rank as the crowning glory of his generation.” All that Mother Meng wanted was for Mencius to not completely ruin his life, but he became great. You can so very easily see a parallel with how Meng Shi hoped Meng Yao would be a cultivator but he became Jin Guangyao, Chief Cultivator, styled Lianfang-zun, one of the Three Venerable, hero of the Sunshot Campaign.

Of course you can say “Jin Guangyao did many Very Wrong Things to get there, though!” Which, sure, okay, fair point. How many and how wrong depends on which canon we're discussing, and your own interpretation, but there’s no version of the story in which Jin Guangyao is 100% an innocent child uwu. But blaming that on Meng Shi is just... straight up weird? I don’t see anyone going “If Jiang Fengmian hadn’t adopted Wei Wuxian, he’d never have dared become Yiling Laozu!” and that’s pretty much the same logic. Would street kid Wei Wuxian have invented a new type of cultivation if he had never been taken in by the Jiang? Probably not, but raising undead armies is very much not something Jiang Fengmian could’ve predicted. In the same way, how could Meng Shi have predicted that teaching her pre-adolescent son “You are the son of a cultivator, act like one and earn your place in society” would’ve ultimately resulted in innocent deaths? How could she predict “You’re not destined to having the same horrible life I did, you can get something better than this” was a bad thing to teach? I quite honestly don’t know.

Finally, I'd like to point towards a much flimsier evidence that Meng Shi did great as a parent. And that is Meng Yao’s love. Nie Huaisang at some point comments Meng Shi is someone who Meng Yao "cherishes more than his life," and I think his assessment is correct.

Even putting aside the fact he built a whole temple to get his mother to reincarnate into a better life, and even putting aside how he refuses to flee the country without her remains, there's still crystal clear evidence that Meng Shi must've done something right. Because a lifetime of people using his mother to bully him doesn't seem to have made Meng Yao resent her. Had their relationship not have been very strong, odds are he'd feel bitter and/or ashamed of her. That doesn't seem to be the case. He's attached to her even decades after her death.

I want to be very careful with equating mutual affection with good parenting, though. When I was a rather rebellious teenager, my mother (in typical Chinese fashion) used to say that parents and children don't have to love each other as long as they're dutiful to each other, by which she meant that a parent-child relationship isn't informed by warm and fuzzy feelings, but by whether you'd be willing to do anything for each other. Specific to my case, she meant "I don't care if it makes you hate me, you will do as you're told because that's what's best for you." (That may also be the reason why people more familiar with Chinese culture see the Jiang family less as outright abusive and more as #complicated, but that's another meta.)

Whether your kid wants to hug you every time they see you is of no consequence to traditional Chinese thought - raising them to be the best they can is all that matters, because at the end of the day, you won't be around forever, but you can definitely set up your kid's life so that it goes smoothly and virtuously. How that's accomplished varies depending on many factors, but to have the goal be "I want my child to love me" rather than "I want to raise my child right" would've been considered selfish as hell.

So even if all that Meng Shi had given Meng Yao had been stern lessons about the need to go get his birthright, she would've still have been considered a good mother!! In fact, she would've been doing everything she was supposed to do, under extremely difficult conditions! (Remember the importance of environment? That Meng Yao grew up to want to be a cultivator despite having probably never even met one speaks wonders about Meng Shi's childrearing powers!!)

But just based off how over the top Meng Yao's filal dutifulness is, I'd go a step further and say that even as she did the impossible, she was also loving enough to inspire genuine affection. This is complicated because children who have present fathers could expect their mothers to be tender with them. The first century BCE text 禮記 Lǐ Jì or The Classic of Rites says that:

Here now is the affection of a father for his sons - he loves the worthy among them, and places on a lower level those who do not show ability; but that of a mother for them is such, that while she loves the worthy, she pities those who do not show ability - the mother deals with them on the ground of affection and not of showing them honour; the father, on the ground of showing them honour and not of affection.

But when the father figure is lacking for any reason, the mother must abandon her tenderness because someone must guide the child, and without a father, the role falls to the mother. A single or widowed mother had to be very careful to not smother their children with affection and raise useless, spoiled kids, or so it was thought. (The presence of Qingheng-jun and Lan Qiren is why Madame Lan can be so affectionate with the Lan boys, by the way - if she was raising them by herself she would've been expected to be much more practical. AUs where she just gets her kids and runs away could do very cool things with this idea. But I digress!)

Where was I? Oh, okay. Because Meng Yao seems to not just respect, but actively miss her, it seems that Meng Shi somehow managed to deal with her son on the ground of both honor and affection, to paraphrase.

So basically, all things considered, it seems not only would Meng Shi have been considered a great mom (if people could look past her being a prostitute, anyway) but she also went above and beyond the bare minimum. She truly spared no efforts on any front to make sure her son had everything your average gongzi would have - someone to teach him and someone to love him, access to education and confidence in his birthright. That she couldn't actually make him a cultivator, that she couldn't actually raise him in a proper home with no one being cruel to herself or him - that's immaterial. Even Mother Meng couldn't control what her neighbors did, only what she taught her son! The key point is Meng Shi tried. She did everything she could to educate her son right. You couldn't ask more of her, and quite honestly, you should probably be asking less.

Of course we can't err on the other extreme and say she was Perfect. Given MXTX only ever writes flawed characters, we can safely assume that if we'd known more about Meng Shi, we would've seen many flaws. Indeed, just the fact she didn't teach Meng Yao the guqin when he apparently wanted to learn it might point to some conflict we don't know enough to speculate about (maybe she focused too much on cultivation when Meng Yao's interests lay elsewhere? Maybe she wasn't able to sufficiently shelter him and he felt it'd be a burden to ask her to teach him anything? Maybe maybe maybe, go wild with your fics.) Nevertheless, I would never hold a female character to a higher ideal than a male character - if the male cast of MDZS can be a hot mess and still be admirable for what they're trying to do, then so can Meng Shi.

At the end of the day, when I look at Meng Shi - and I've made myself a document with all the references to her in the novel canon so I could easily contemplate her life and character - all I see is a woman every bit as determined and resourceful as her son, willing to do everything it took to raise her little boy into the sophisticated and ambitious man he became.

Finally, here's a fun little parallel that I'm 100% sure was unintentional but I still love. I said Meng Shi couldn't have moved three times. She couldn't, but I think maybe she taught her son he was worth moving three times for. Qinghe Nie. Qishan Wen. Lanling Jin. Isn't that super fun to think about?

Alternatively, tl;dr: Oh My God I Can't Believe We're Blaming Women For The Actions Of Their Adult Children In The Year Of Our Lord 2k21, Meng Shi Was Doing Her Best, Chill!

[bloody-bee-tea]

Parents

Jiang Cheng is still panting heavily when he goes to check if they really did kill the yao, but when he turns slightly to make a joke at Nie Mingjue, his husband is nowhere to be seen.

“Mingjue?” Jiang Cheng yells out and he doesn’t want to admit it, but fear grips his heart.

The last moments of the fight were pretty hectic and rough; what if something happened to Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng didn’t notice it?

“Mingjue?” Jiang Cheng yells again, louder this time, when no answer comes and he goes back to where he thinks he saw Nie Mingjue last.

“Shush, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue scolds him out of the blue and Jiang Cheng follows his voice into one of the many destroyed houses around the place.

The did not lose the whole village to the yao; these are long abandoned houses they simply found the yao at and so Jiang Cheng frowns.

“What’s going on?” he asks, carefully stepping into one of the destroyed houses but he comes to an abrupt stop when he sees what Nie Mingjue is holding.

“Is that a baby?” Jiang Cheng breathes out and is at Nie Mingjue’s side a moment later.

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue says, even though it’s pretty obvious that the squirming and clearly upset bundle in his arms is a human baby.

“What happened?” Jiang Cheng demands to know and steps closer to check the baby over.

“I don’t know. She made a sound and when I came in here, I found her all naked on the ground, not even crying. I hope she’s okay.”

Now that Nie Mingjue said it Jiang Cheng realizes that he cut his own robes to dress her, and the act just makes him love Nie Mingjue more.

“Let me see her,” Jiang Cheng says, holding his hands out expectantly and when Nie Mingjue drops her into his arms he checks her over more thoroughly.

There are no visible wounds on her and even though she seems a little bit too cold, she’s quickly warming up, now that she can leech off Jiang Cheng’s and Nie Mingjue’s body heat.

“She seems fine to me,” Jiang Cheng decides. “Maybe a little bit hungry, but she doesn’t seem injured.”

“Thank the gods,” Nie Mingjue breathes out and gently strakes his finger over her cheek. “I was worried because she wouldn’t cry. I still remember how Jin Ling was, it seemed strange for her not to make a sound.”

Jiang Cheng decides not to take offense on Jin Ling’s behalf, because he was one loud baby and instead says “Babies are much more sensitive than we give them credit for. If her parents were hiding from the yao, it’s likely she somehow picked up on the fact that she needs to be quiet.”

“She’s barely older than six month,” Nie Mingjue says with a frown and Jiang Cheng presses her protectively to his chest.

“And maybe she’s just especially bright,” he snaps back and then walks out of the house. “Come on, we still have to let the healers check her over, maybe we missed something,” he calls over his shoulder when Nie Mingjue doesn’t follow him immediately.

“Alright, alright. But Wanyin—no getting attached. We’re not keeping her,” he says and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“Of course we’re not keeping her. I don’t want any more kids, Jin Ling totally was enough for me,” he cheekily says, though immediately the doubt cuts deep again.

Jin Ling is only six, but the kid already has an attitude and he has his nose high up in the sky and Jiang Cheng is afraid that he fucked him over for good. He is not fit to raise any kid, least of all his sister’s child, and absolutely not the sweet baby in his arms.

“As long as you remember,” Nie Mingjue says and then keeps a hand under the babies bum the whole time they walk.

As if Jiang Cheng would ever let anything this precious drop.

~*~*~

“How is our baobei doing?” Nie Mingjue asks with a huge smile as he walks into the infirmary.

They are keeping her there for a lack of better accommodations, though Jiang Cheng is getting out all of Jin Ling’s old stuff again. Soon enough she’ll be able to sleep with them in their bedroom.

“She is perfectly alright,” Jiang Cheng gives back and looks up from where he’s sitting on the floor, tickling her tummy and watching her squirming around and squealing with laughter.

“And how is my most amazing husband doing?” Nie Mingjue asks as he drops a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head and then blows raspberries onto the babies tummy.

“I am doing very well, too, thank you for asking,” Jiang Cheng seriously gives back and then erupts into laughter when Nie Mingjue gives him a disgruntled look at that.

It makes the baby clap her hands together and kick her tiny, tiny feet in the air and Jiang Cheng simply melts at the sight.

“And news of her parents?” he asks, mostly to distract himself from the urge of squeezing her to death and Nie Mingjue shakes his head as he sits down next to Jiang Cheng and picks her up.

“No. There were reports of a family running from the yao, but no one knew them and no one seems to know where the parents ran off to. I left a message in the house we found her in, in case they come back, but I don’t think it’s looking promising. It’s been a week already.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng thoughtfully says and offers up one of his fingers for her to hold on to. “What a shame.”

“Yeah,” Nie Mingjue agrees and then they fall silent.

Well, at least until their little baobei starts to scream bloody murder because she’s hungry.

~*~*~

They are laying in bed, Jiang Cheng tracing senseless shapes into Nie Mingjue’s chest when he speaks up.

“We’re not keeping her, right?” Jiang Cheng asks and Nie Mingjue tenses.

“Wanyin, I thought we were agreeing on this,” he cautiously says and Jiang Cheng props himself up to look at him.

“We are. I am not fit to be a father; I was barely able to be an uncle to Jin Ling and raising him—I did so much wrong. I’m too much of my mother and not enough of my father and I’m just—”

“Well, from what you told me about your parents and from what I have seen with Jin Ling you are exactly the right mix of them. Just from the top of my head I can come up with at least seven instances where you held or carried Jin Ling, so I’d say you are perfectly good.”

“I messed up so much with him,” Jiang Cheng mutters. “The real damage will only show when he’s older, just you wait.”

“Well, pardon me, but your parents were shit and you turned out alright if I dare say so,” Nie Mingjue tells him and pulls him into a kiss. “And I am not actually keen on being a dad, either. I was pouring so much into raising Huaisang when our father died and I don’t know if I can raise anyone without the explicit expectation of them having to be a Sect Heir.”

Nie Mingjue sighs and Jiang Cheng snuggles closer to him.

“Look at how I messed up with him. I put so much pressure onto him all the time because I feared I would die young and now he avoids any kind of responsibility as if his life depends on it. I already fucked up once. I’m not going to do it again.”

“You didn’t fuck up,” Jiang Cheng protests. “If anything you spoilt him too much. You were too lenient. It’s not like he ever cowers when you yell at him, right? He’s clearly not afraid of you or the consequences you keep threatening him with, because he damn well knows you’d never follow through.”

“Is that right?” Nie Mingjue asks, raising one eyebrow at Jiang Cheng. “Just like Jin Ling laughs at you whenever you threaten to break his legs?”

“That’s different,” Jiang Cheng huffs.

“I don’t think it is,” Nie Mingjue argues and then rolls them over onto the side so they can sleep.

“No more kids,” he mutters, burying his face in Jiang Cheng’s hair and Jiang Cheng agrees.

No more kids for them.

~*~*~

It’s been two months by now since they found little Baobei in the abandoned house and they have formed a routine around her.

The healers complained after two weeks of her being in the infirmary that she can’t stay there anymore so Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue took her to their own bedroom, letting her sleep right next to their bed, so they could keep an eye on her.

“Good morning, little baobei,” Jiang Cheng says when she grumbles herself awake and Nie Mingjue laughs at the sight.

“She’s just like you,” he jokes and Jiang Cheng can’t even manage a proper frown over her head.

“Shut up, she is not,” he denies and Nie Mingjue has not even the decency to argue with him about this.

“Let’s go find Jiang Zedong and hear how the search for parents for her is going,” Jiang Cheng mutters, a little bit miffed that Nie Mingjue wouldn’t indulge him in a little argument, but when Nie Mingjue comes over to pepper first Baobei with kisses and then Jiang Cheng, he decides it’s forgotten.

When they ask Jiang Zedong about the issue he stares at them like they lost their minds.

“What do you mean, possible parents for her?”

“What do you mean, what do we mean?” Jiang Cheng bites back, though he’s aware that the look is a little bit ruined with Baobei in his arms. “You’re supposed to look for possible parents for her, what’s going on?”

“You mean for other people to take her in?”

“Other people? Who else would take her in?” Nie Mingjue asks as well, and when Baobei starts to sniffle, he takes her right out of Jiang Cheng’s arms.

It turns out that Baobei is a very sensitive baby, and she picks up on moods incredibly well. They haven’t found much that can sooth her, but resting against Nie Mingjue’s chest always seems to do the trick.

Jiang Cheng can relate. It’s a very good chest to lean on.

“You?” Jiang Zedong shoots back and Jiang Cheng quickly reaches out when Nie Mingjue’s arms go slack.

He manages to secure Baobei until Nie Mingjue remembers himself and hugs her close again.

“We’re not looking to adopt,” Nie Mingjue tells him, and Jiang Zedong frowns in confusion.

“But didn’t you already? I mean, she sleeps with you and you modelled your whole day around her. You come running when she cries or makes any kind of sound and no offense, but you don’t even allow the healers to hold her for her check-ups. I am actually afraid of what you’ll do if I tell you that we did find someone to adopt. Honestly, I just thought you would keep her.”

Jiang Cheng blinks at Nie Mingjue who in turn blinks at him.

“We didn’t want to adopt,” Jiang Cheng eventually says and Nie Mingjue nods.

“Well, to me—and everyone else—it looks like you already did. Now if you excuse me, I have real problems to solve here,” he then tells them and simply marches off.

Jiang Cheng wonders what demon was possessing him when he appointed Jiang Zedong his second in command, but when Baobei gurgles he forgets that thought.

“We weren’t looking to adopt,” Nie Mingjue says and bounces Baobei in a soothing manner.

“No, we weren’t.”

“Maybe—maybe she adopted us?” Nie Mingjue tries and Jiang Cheng sighs, before he leans into Nie Mingjue’s side.

“My soul, maybe it’s time we face the truth,” he gravely says, and surprisingly enough he’s not terrified out of his mind. “We’re done for. We are her parents.”

There’s a moment of silence from Nie Mingjue before he shrugs.

“Could be worse, I guess,” he says and lifts Baobei up high in the air.

Jiang Cheng fights the urge to snag her out of his hands, because what if he lets her fall, but by then Nie Mingjue already has her safely against his chest again.

“Just promise me, Wanyin: if I put too much pressure on her, if I demand too much of her, you’ll have to smack me over the head.”

“I’ll smack you over the head whenever I please,” Jiang Cheng cheerfully tells him but then he nods. “Of course I promise. And—the same goes for you: if I snap at her like my mother did or if I don’t give her the affection she deserves, you’ll have to smack some sense into me.”

“I promise, my heart, but you already did a good job with Jin Ling.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t comment on that, because the fear that he fucked his nephew up sits deep, but when Baobei babbles happily at him, he pushes those thoughts away.

“Oh shit,” Jiang Cheng suddenly says, and looks with big eyes at Nie Mingjue. “We have to come up with a real name for her!”

“Oh fuck,” Nie Mingjue wholeheartedly agrees and then they dissolve into laughter because if that is their biggest worry right now, then maybe they’ll be alright.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[robininthelabyrinth]

I’ve never seen a de aged NHS or NMJ fic, and I’d really like too see how you write one (especially if it’s one where young NHS is transported too the present, and old NHS is transported to the past, before his brother dies OR after!)

“Sometimes,” Wei Wuxian said, when it’s late at night and they’re really drunk and he’s been whining up a storm over nonsense to the point that even Nie Huaisang, master of whining, asked him why, “sometimes it’s just - when I’m feeling really spoiled, I go back to being, y’know, like a little kid. Five, or three.”

Jiang Cheng just huffed, clearly already used to the idea, clearly acting like Wei Wuxian’s just stating the obvious, but Nie Huaisang’s eyes went wide.��

“You do?” he asked, jaw dropping open into what he knew was an unseemly sort of gaping motion, like a fish, but in his defense – “I’ve never met anyone else who does that!”

Wei Wuxian squinted at him. “‘Else’? You mean you do it too?”

“Yeah! Though I don’t go back that far – just to age seven or so.”

He was rounding up a little, but mostly seven didn’t sound as good.

“Seven’s better than three,” Jiang Cheng opined. He was sprawled out on his stomach, looking like he was contemplating taking an extra helping from their snack pile. He probably didn’t go little at all, the bastard. “You can feed yourself when you’re seven. This asshole here –” He meant Wei Wuxian. “– needs spoon-feeding.”

Wei Wuxian reached over and hit up upside the head, but didn’t deny it.

Nie Huaisang giggled. “Yeah, eating is fine,” he said. “I mostly just need a lot of hugs and stuff, to help me calm down and feel better. My da-ge gives the best hugs.”

“I think I’d be too scared to try it,” Wei Wuxian said, though he looked wistful. Even a little jealous.

He should be. Da-ge’s hugs were the best hugs.

“I know I’d be too scared,” Jiang Cheng interjected. “Even at the age I currently am.”

“Well, he’s not your da-ge, is he?” Nie Huaisang said haughtily.

“I can’t even imagine him giving hugs,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling over onto his back.  “He’s just – you know?”

“Tall? Strong? Terrifying?” Wei Wuxian suggested, then sighed. Wistful again. “I can imagine it, no problem. He must give great hugs. He’s got arms for days; it must feel so safe and secure.”

“I’ll give you the arms, I guess,” Jiang Cheng agreed, though he sounded doubtful. “I mean, he could probably pick you up.”

“Oh, definitely,” Nie Huaisang said. “Being picked up is key to a truly fantastic hug.”

Nods all around, even from Jiang Cheng.

“This is really great,” he added enthusiastically. “I didn’t think that it happened to anyone else; I thought it was just me! Da-ge’s always really strict about me not letting anyone else know…and it’s not like it’s all the time, you know? Just sometimes. When it’s safe.”

When he was feeling sick-to-his-stomach stressed, followed by a moment of sheer intense relief – and when his brother was around, of course. He couldn’t feel safe if his brother wasn’t around.

“Just sometimes,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “Just like I mostly do it when my shijie is there, she’s really comforting to. I don’t know why you’d have to keep it a secret, though. It’s not really that embarrassing.”

Jiang Cheng huffed. “Says you.”

“Da-ge’s always worried someone will try to use it against me,” Nie Huaisang confessed.

“Well, we won’t,” Jiang Cheng promised him, and Wei Wuxian nodded along as well, and really, Nie Huaisang could just start crying with how nice it felt to have people who understood.

“Maybe I’ll come find you guys next time, if you’re ever in Qinghe when it happens,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I can talk to da-ge; he can give you guys hugs, too.”

“You know who I really want hugs from?” Wei Wuxian said, a mischievous light in his eyes. “Lan Zhan! I bet he –”

“Don’t say his name! He’ll appear!”

“No, he won’t, he – oh! Uh! Hi! Lan Zhan, we were – uh…”

Lan Wangji glared at them.

Nie Huaisang tried to hide behind something, misjudged, and fell over straight onto his face.

Ouch.

“– not allowed in the Cloud Recesses!”

Da-ge’s going to kill me, he thought miserably, and stopped thinking about any of it.

He didn’t think much more about that conversation at all, in fact, not through their entire adventure with Wen Qing and the scary goddess statute, not with Xue Yang and the massacre and the battle there, not up until he made it home and they had a big banquet and everything was really great and he was home and calm and everything was fine –

Yeah, he probably should’ve been able to call what happened next.

He crawled into his brother’s bed.

“Hmm? Oh, Huaisang,” his brother said, waking up with a start and calming at the sight of him, and then he sighed. “I thought you’d started getting over this.”

“Uh-uh,” he said, even though he’d started wondering himself. It’d been a while. “Gimme a hug.”

His brother pulled him close – and truly, no one in the world gave hugs like his da-ge did. “Don’t go running around too much in the morning,” he said, already falling back asleep. “We have guests.”

Naturally, the next morning, Nie Huaisang woke up first, full of energy and pep – he was seven, after all (nearly), and they were far more excitable than either seventeen-year-olds or twenty-five-year-olds – and that’s about when he remembered that for once he didn’t have to worry about hiding away from their guests because his guests were like him. They got little, too.

“What the fuck,” Wei Wuxian shouted when Nie Huaisang jumped on his bed. “Who the fuck?!”

Nie Huaisang laughed at him. “It’s me, Wei-xiong!” he said happily, waving his arms around. His sleeves were always too long when he went little – his brother insisted that he wear something loose enough that he wouldn’t hurt himself if suddenly went big again – and it was a little funny to see Wei Wuxian from this angle; it made him all big and gangly. “I know your shijie’s not here and all, but it’s very nice; do you want to go little? If you’re five, da-ge will definitely give you a hug!”

Wei Wuxian stared at him. “Nie…Huaisang?”

His voice was wrong – all weird and strangled – and Nie Huaisang started to have that awful itchy feeling that he’d done something wrong. 

He knew it was possible, he often did the wrong thing, and he was even more liable to make mistakes when he’d regressed back to being seven than he normally did. His brother said that it wasn’t his fault, since after all having the same memories as his grown-up self didn’t actually mean that he could process all of them the same way – his brain was seven again, after all, and sometimes he couldn’t quite parse the big feelings and complex thoughts that grown-up him had - but he still felt bad about it when it happened.

It felt like he’d made a mistake now.

But he’d been so sure that his older self had talked it over with Wei Wuxian, and that Wei Wuxian had said he was like him. So why was he acting so surprised all of a sudden?

Nie Huaisang started fidgeting with his sleeves the way he did when he was anxious, his breath starting to come fast. “Wei-xiong,” he said, biting his lip. “You’re little sometimes, like me, right? You said…didn’t you say?”

“I –” Wei Wuxian started to say, then stopped and wet his lips. “Nie-xiong…er...Nie-didi...”

The door open and Nie Huaisang’s brother strode in, his face black with rage. Nie Huaisang, distressed, immediately scrambled off the bed to throw himself at him, to clutch at him and press his face into his robes as if it would hide his shame and embarrassment.

He really hadn’t meant to make such an awful mistake. He really hadn’t, honest!

“Wei-gongzi,” his brother said, voice stiff.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Wei Wuxian blurted out. His eyes were still fixed on Nie Huaisang. “I won’t, I promise – it’s not his fault. Really. When we were at the Cloud Recesses, I told him that sometimes I like to be a kid, with my shijie, and he thought – he must have thought –”

“He assumed you were not referring to merely playacting,” Nie Mingjue said. His voice was heavy, but a little less imminently violent; it was a good thing that Wei Wuxian had started by saying he wouldn’t tell.

“He’s a child,” Wei Wuxian said. His voice was awed. “He’s – he’s actually a child again. He’s small and – and cute – his cheeks are so chubby –”

Nie Huaisang could feel his brother starting to soften a little – he’d always liked it when people complimented Nie Huaisang – and he decided to press his luck, tugging on his brother’s robes and standing up high on his tip-toes in a silent plea that his brother acceded to, reaching down and picking him up in his arms. The best place in the world to be.

“I told Wei-xiong that your hugs are the best, da-ge,” he whispered in his brother’s ear, his own arms looped around his brother’s neck. “’cause they are.”

His brother sighed a little.

“He’s seven, right?” Wei Wuxian said. “He said – age seven. Is there a reason it’s seven?”

Nie Huaisang buried his face into his brother’s neck.

“When our father died,” his brother said.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian said, and his voice was suddenly awkward. “I’m – sorry. But…how?  He’s obviously been both physically and mentally transformed, although his memories still seem intact…”

“The details aren’t important,” Nie Huaisang’s brother said firmly. “What’s important is that you understand that no one can know.”

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian said at once. “I can’t even imagine – if the Wen sect found out –”

“They can never know.”

“Never. I promise.”

“Good,” Nie Huaisang’s brother said with satisfaction. Then, a moment later, “Is there something you want to say?”

Nie Huaisang looked up to see Wei Wuxian biting his lower lip. “No,” he said. “It’s – no, it’s nothing.”

“Just say it.” Nie Huaisang’s brother had never had much time for nonsense. “You’ve seen our secrets; you can trust me that whatever you say, I won’t judge.”

Wei Wuxian still hesitated for a moment longer, but another glare from his brother got him to finally blurt out, “Could I have a hug?”

A long moment of silence, that eventually Nie Huaisang broke with a giggle. “See, da-ge,” he said. “I told you your hugs are the best!”

“Never mind,” Wei Wuxian said, his face bright red. “It’s stupid, I don’t –”

Nie Huaisang’s brother sighed, a sharp exhale, and went over to the bed, still balancing Nie Huaisang on his hip. He sat down and wrapped his other arm around Wei Wuxian, pulling him in tight. “And what do you like to be called?”

“…A-Xian,” Wei Wuxian mumbled, pressing his cheek against Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. “Call me A-Xian.”

[stiltonbasket]

Hi!! Could I perhaps request LQR baby-sitting A-Yu and A-Lan for the renouncement verse? Thanks, love you <333

(brief author’s note: please please reblog if you can, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

Lan Qiren’s nephews keep overworking themselves. 

This wouldn’t be a bad thing if they hadn’t been doing it for the last several years, but it’s beginning to wear on them. Xichen’s eyes are always red and swollen from writing letters by candlelight, and Lan Qiren doesn’t remember the last time he saw Wangji without trade reports in his arms and spit-up milk on his robes, so he finally puts his foot down and decides to give all three of them a break in early autumn. 

“Xichen, go take a soak in the hot springs,” he orders, sweeping into the hanshi and shoving everything on Lan Xichen’s desk up one of his sleeves. “Now.”

Lan Xichen is so exhausted that he tries to paint a line of calligraphy onto the expensive wood of his writing table. “Shufu?” 

“You heard me,” Lan Qiren scolds. “Go on! I’ll finish the petition forms by tomorrow.” 

Somewhat bewildered, Lan Xichen ambles out through the hanshi’s back door and splashes into the hot spring, leaving Lan Qiren to march down to the jingshi and confiscate all of Wangji’s trade contracts. He also confiscates baby A-Lan, who is lying in Lan Wangji’s lap and trying to eat his jade pendant. 

“What are you doing?” Wangji asks, watching him tug the rest of his letters out of Wei Ying’s hands and stuff those up his sleeves, too. “Uncle?” 

“You and Wei Ying need a rest,” he announces. “I am taking your work to the meishi, and I am also taking your children. Do not come to fetch them until sunset.” 

And with that, he straps Wei Shuilan to his chest and takes Lan Yu by the hand, bundling them off to his own residence before their parents have time to do much more than blink at him in confusion. 

“Huh,” Wei Wuxian says, after he leaves. “I think your uncle has a point, actually. Let’s go to bed, Lan Zhan.”

__

When Lan Qiren gets back to the meishi, he settles A-Lan down for a nap and gives Xiao-Yu a snack and some silver puzzle rings to improve his hand-eye coordination. “It almost reminds me of the old days,” he sighs, as Shuilan kicks her chubby little feet before falling asleep with her thumb in her mouth. “Even if Wangji never went down for naps without a fuss.” 

Lan Qiren was nineteen when he became acting sect leader, and he was also nineteen when he received custody of Xichen: not coincidentally, because the clan hoped that taking charge of the sect would prevent him from raising his nephew and allow one of them to take over his care instead. But Lan Qiren was nothing if not stubborn, so Lan Huan went with him everywhere—to meetings, discussion conferences, and even the odd wedding now and then, and was generally such an amiable baby that he adjusted to his uncle’s fraught travelling schedule without a fuss. In fact, the first time Lan Huan met Jiang Yanli had been during a week-long cultivation event at Lotus Pier, yawning in a sling on Lan Qiren’s back while Jiang Yanli napped on Jiang Fengmian’s chest, and Jiang Fengmian had even mentioned the possibility of a betrothal between the two babies when they were older. 

“My wife wants to contract an engagement between Xiao-Li and a son born to her sworn sister, but Jin-zongzhu and Jin-furen have not yet had a child,” Jiang-zongzhu had sighed, letting his daughter’s little fingers wrap around his. He looked heartbroken at the mere thought of parting from her, Lan Qiren remembers—which was probably why he named her yan li, to hate separation, because Jiang Yanli’s premature birth nearly stole her away from her parents the moment she entered the world. 

“Lanling is closer to Gusu than Yunmeng,” Lan Qiren pointed out. Yunmeng Jiang would make an excellent alliance by marriage, and he was fairly certain at the time that Jiang Yanli would grow up to resemble her mild-mannered father rather than her hot-tempered mother. He was right, of course, since Jiang-guniang took after Jiang Fengmian in both looks and character, but contracting a betrothal with her for Xichen would have done both of them a disservice—because Xichen could never have loved her as she would have wanted to be loved, and he could never have given her children, either. 

“Shugong?” a little voice says at Lan Qiren’s elbow, distracting him from the possibility of a world where Lan Huan married Jiang Yanli and crippled Lanling Jin’s influence after the Sunshot Campaign. “Xiao-Yu is done with the puzzle. I have another one?”

“Already?” Lan Qiren asks. This is yet another trait Xiaohui inherited from Wei Wuxian despite not being related to him, and Lan Qiren feels his heart swell with pride at his great-nephew’s intelligence. “Then you may play with the wooden blocks on that shelf, and see how high you can build your tower without letting it fall over.”

Xiao-Yu settles down on the hearthrug to stack up the fine-carved building blocks, and Lan Qiren goes through his nephew’s papers in peace for another hour before A-Lan wakes up from her nap and wails for her milk at the top of her lungs. 

“Do not cry,” Lan Qiren soothes, securing the child in her swaddle before heating a bottle with a warming talisman. “Here is your supper, and your xiongzhang is there on the mat.”

He has to keep A-Lan in his arms after that, since his tiny great-niece is so used to being held that putting her down would break her little heart; and Lan Qiren would rather die than let go of her, because he dearly misses holding his nephews, and not so long ago he was certain he would never have the chance to hold a baby again. 

And then, as if cuddling A-Lan to his chest wasn’t wonderful enough, Xiao-Yu pulls one of Wangji’s old picture books out of Lan Qiren’s storage trunk and runs over to sit in his lap, pushing the trade contracts aside and replacing them with the fable of the magic lotus lantern.

“Shugong, read to Xiao-Yu?” the little boy begs, snuggling into Lan Qiren’s overgown next to his cooing baby sister. “A-Die likes this story best.”

Of course he does, Lan Qiren thinks, as he flips the cover open and starts to read. The tale of the magic lotus lantern was written about a child whose mother was stolen away from him, taken back to the heavens by force when her godly brother discovered the magic lantern that illuminated her way to the mortal world—and for a while Wangji believed that his mother was like the immortal Sanshengmu, who loved a human man and had a child with him before returning to the realm she came from. Sanshengmu’s story ended with her being reunited with her husband and son, and the little Wangji never gave up hope that his own mother might come back in much the same way, even after he was old enough to stop believing in fairy stories. 

“Why did they fight?” Xiao-Yu asks, leaning closer to see the picture of the goddess’s lover with his brush and scroll. “That’s against the rules!”

“Sometimes people who love one another fight because they cannot understand their feelings,” Lan Qiren tells him, tapping the point of his soft button nose. “So it was with Sanshengmu and Liu Yanchang-gongzi, and when he awoke, she revealed her true identity, and explained why she sent a rainstorm to plague him after she read his poem. 

“Both apologized profusely. Days went by, and Liu Yanchang finally recovered. By then the goddess and the scholar had fallen deeply in love, and marriage naturally ensued. Encouraged by Goddess Sanshengmu, Liu Yanchang continued with his journey to the capital to take the imperial examination, and months later, the goddess gave birth to their son, whom she named Chenxiang.

“At the same time, the goddess’s celestial family had learned about her marriage to an earthly man. Her brother, known as Divine Erlang, found his unruly sister and demanded that she renounce her new family and return with him to their heavenly home, but Sanshengmu refused, and battled him with the power of her magical lotus lantern…”

__

“I want to paint a portrait of this,” Wei Wuxian whispers, when he and Lan Zhan creep into the meishi after sunset to find Lan Qiren fast asleep on the floor, with A-Lan snoozing on his chest and Xiao-Yu curled up in the crook of his arm. “They’re so sweet, Lan Zhan!”

“Mm,” Lan Zhan murmurs, his eyes softening as he looks at the open book on his uncle’s desk. Lan Qiren clearly just finished reading it before he fell asleep, because the book is open to the very last picture; a color painting of a goddess embracing a youth and an older man with a lotus-shaped lantern hanging at the crook of her elbow. “Bring a blanket and a pillow, Wei Ying. We should let them sleep.”

(Lan Qiren often finds himself toting his little great-nephew and niece around the Cloud Recesses after that, and Xiao-Yu’s favorite place to play in his parents’ absence is always the house where his shugong lives.)

[ibijau]

Nie Huaisang too has a list of requirements for his future spouse. This eventually comes to bite him in the ass in an unexpected way.

also on AO3

The first time Nie Huaisang hears someone say that he'll be hard to marry, he's eight. It's the first time he gets to accompany his father and brother to a conference, and while he's desperately trying to be good, he gets bored pretty quickly and disappears to explore a bit. Nightless City and the Wen's palace aren't fun places, and he's too worried about getting lost to go very far, but there's still a few interesting things to look at.

Not far from the main halls where the conference is happening, he almost stumbles upon two adults whom he recognises as friends of his father. Well, friends might be pushing it. But Father tries to be polite to them to their face, and that's not an effort he makes with everyone. So, Nie Huaisang counts them as his father's friends, and knows they have the power to scold him if they spot him somewhere he shouldn't be. As they approach, Nie Huaisang finds a curtain to hide behind, and waits. 

"And that second son of his is a disgrace," the man in red says as they pass by him. 'Wen Bastard', Father used to call him when chatting with mother, which always made her roll her eyes. "That's what happens when blood weakens." 

"Only a fool marries a woman like that," says the other one, 'that greasy Jin merchant'. "A dancer… That's just what you call a prostitute who can't live without making extra efforts. With a mother like that and how weak he's said to be, they'll never secure a match for that boy." 

"Qinghe Nie isn't what it used to be. And that saber of his…" 

Nie Huaisang doesn't hear the rest, because the men are already gone. He doesn’t want to hear more, anyway. Just that bit about his mother upsets him. It’s not news to him that his mother didn’t have the most respectable of lives before meeting his father, and he’s vaguely aware that some people looked down on their marriage for that, but hearing it put in such crude words hurts.

As he returns to his father’s side, Nie Huaisang slowly realises that those comments he overheard won’t leave his mind. He can’t say anything, though. Father gets too upset whenever something reminds him of mother. Nie Mingjue isn’t an option either, because he’s so hot-tempered, and even Nie Huaisang can tell that those words were pretty strong insults that the men would never have dared to say in public. It could lead to bad things if he were to repeat what he heard.

So Nie Huaisang remains silent until they all go to bed. They’ve been given a nice bedroom for their stay in Nightless City, but there was a misunderstanding and Nie Huaisang himself wasn’t expected to be there, so he doesn’t have his own bed. Nie Mingjue refuses to share his, because he’s too old for that apparently. Good. He kicks and steals the blankets, so Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have wanted to share either. Of course they could have asked for another bed to be brought to their room, but Father decided it would be too much of a bother. Instead, Nie Huaisang gets to sleep with him, which is nice. Father is always so warm at night, and doesn’t mind that he moves too much.

Cuddled against his father, safe and warm in the darkness of their room, Nie Huaisang would be perfectly happy if not for that conversation he heard earlier. It still nags at him. The thing against his mother is bad enough, but the other comment they made, the one about him… 

"Father, will I get married someday?" he asks when he figures that he can’t fall asleep without figuring that out.

His father huffs, an amused smile visible on his lips even in the low light. 

"You're too young for that!" Nie Mingjue grumbles from his bed. "I get to have someone first!" 

That remark gets a short laugh out of their father, which in turn makes Nie Huaisang giggle. Nie Mingjue is always complaining about this or that lately, which apparently is a normal side effect of being fifteen. 

"You can both get married if it pleases you," their father announces. "The order doesn’t matter much, either. You'll find someone. You're both handsome, clever boys, with the fame of our clan to make you seem even more handsome. And if you don't find it on your own, I'll try to find it for you." 

"I want a pretty girl," Nie Mingjue quickly says. "With a gentle personality, but who is still my equal in a fight, and…" 

Father groans. 

"It's too late for this, Mingjue. Make a list and give it to me later. You too, Huaisang, if it worries you so much." 

Nie Huaisang nods, relieved that this gives him time to think about the problem, and shuffles closer to his father. Sect leader Nie pulls him against his side, one arm wrapped over his son's shoulders in a protective gesture. It feels so safe to be like this, and Nie Huaisang soon falls asleep. 

In the morning, still bored at that conference, Nie Huaisang starts a list of what his future spouse ought to be. He decides, pretty quickly, that he'd rather marry a man. His own mother has just died with the baby she carried, and Nie Huaisang doesn't want to feel that pain again. 

So, it will be a man. He must be handsome, the most handsome in the world. Intelligent, too. And… he has to get along with Nie Mingjue, of course. 

He doesn't dare show the list to his father, feeling it is not yet complete, but it is nice to have it. 

-

Some weeks later, Father's sabre breaks during a hunt. 

The months that follow are rough. 

Nie Huaisang adds 'kind' and 'patient' and 'just' to his list. 

Nie Mingjue says, several times, that he shouldn't judge their father based on those last few months, because he was unwell and that's not who he really was. He’s right of course, because until then Father has always been good to both of them and to everyone around. He just got sick. So sick he died. 

Nie Huaisang also adds 'calm mind' to the list, just in case. 

-

If things were rough while Father was ill, they become worse after he dies.

For one thing, Nie Mingjue gets very busy. Of course he’d started getting more responsibilities in the sect since forming his golden core, and again during Father’s sickness, but now Nie Huaisang hardly ever sees him except at meals or during training, when Nie Mingjue mostly shouts at him for not doing better.

It’s funny. Nie Mingjue never used to care too much that Nie Huaisang can barely hold his sabre, but suddenly it’s absolutely essential that he becomes as tough as everyone else in the sect and that his cultivation improves.

At least Nie Mingjue does that because he’s worried. Nie Huaisang knows his brother enough to see that. But the rest, the elders, pick on him over everything just because they don’t like him. It comes as a shock to realise that, but his father’s cousins and uncles hate that their former sect leader had married a dancer, that he’d disgraced the clan like that. They never dared to say anything while Father was alive because he wouldn’t have allowed it, but Father isn’t there anymore, and Nie Mingjue is too busy to notice.

When Nie Huaisang tries to complain to his brother that the elders are mean to him, Nie Mingjue tells him to work harder to prove them wrong, like he’s doing whenever someone says he’s too young to lead their sect. It sounds like good advice, but Nie Huaisang’s efforts bring no results with regard to his cultivation or to the elders' opinion of him, so he just ends up giving up.

Meanwhile, his list gets a little longer. Now his future husband must love him (he never thought of that until one day he had a bad argument with his brother and wondered if anyone cared for him at all). He must also be accepting of Nie Huaisang’s weaknesses, and value his strength, whatever they are. Hopefully, this perfect husband will help him find them. He must also be honest, because Nie Huaisang still hurts from the fact that all his uncles have just lied for years about liking him and his mother. And it won’t hurt if he is skilled in all the arts, and if he has great cultivation and even greater fighting skills, so that nobody ever dares to pick on Nie Huaisang again.

-

It was planned to send Nie Huaisang to study in the Cloud Recesses at the same time as all the other young masters of the Great Sects, but something happens with the Wens, and Nie Mingjue hurriedly decides to send him there one year early.

It’s not the worst.

Sure the food is bad, the lessons are tedious, and Lan Qiren is a horrible teacher… but the scenery is nice, and most people don’t really pay attention to Nie Huaisang, which is a nice change from home where everyone always watches what he does. 

And also, there’s Lan Wangji.

The two of them have been encouraged to try and spend time together, since there used to be a friendship between their fathers. Well, there’s a friendship between them as well now. It surprises a few people, because they’re so different, Lan Wangji so quiet and studious, Nie Huaisang so chatty and careless, but that’s because people only look at the surface. After all, Lan Wangji doesn’t mind chatter too much if it’s from the right person and on the right subjects, while Nie Huaisang can make himself very quiet when he finds something worthy of his attention. They often go on walk together, admiring the mountains around the Cloud Recesses, painting a little, chatting about things.

They have a lot they can chat about.

Lan Wangji, just like Nie Huaisang, has lost his mother when he was young, and it left a deep impression on him. They also both have complicated feelings about their fathers, and that’s… such a relief to finally have someone who can understand that.

Nie Huaisang doesn’t have very close friends at home, and Nie Mingjue refuses to hear anything about those last few months of their father's life, acting as if because their father wouldn’t normally have done those things, then it doesn’t matter that he still actually did them. And Lan Wangji seems glad that someone will listen when he says that he just wishes his father would see him sometimes, that he’s working so hard to be worthy of his attention.

Lan Wangji doesn’t like to be touched, but they hug a few times, and cry as well.

So maybe, just maybe, Nie Huaisang puts even less effort in his studies than he would have, just so he fails his years. Nie Mingjue has told him he’d stay in Gusu until he passes when his grades started reaching him, and Nie Huaisang isn’t above using that to his advantage.

While he is in the Cloud Recesses, his list of requirements for a husband continues getting longer.

It’d be nice to marry someone from the Lan clan, Nie Huaisang figures. Someone who is trustworthy. Someone who is a good listener. Someone serious but with a surprising sense of humour when you know him. Someone with a face that looks carved out of marble, with eyes that look almost golden in the right light. Someone tall, with the manners of a scholar and the posture of an emperor. Someone who maybe is next in line to lead his sect.

Nie Huaisang might have a bit of a crush. He knows it’s one sided, though, and he doesn’t mind too much. His list is a fun thing to think about, but he’s starting to realise that maybe Jin Guangshan and Wen Ruohan were right that day: he’s not exactly the most marriageable person in the world.

Well, he’ll just have to stay at his brother’s side and help him once he’s old enough for that. It’s not a bad fate.

Still, that list is getting a little too specific. Just for the sake of plausible deniability, Nie Huaisang also adds ‘smiles a lot’ on it.

-

Later, Nie Huaisang can’t even remember what the argument with Nie Mingjue was about. His grades and failure in Gusu, maybe. Or the fact that his golden core is really little more than a slightly tinted dustball. Possibly, it was because Nie Huaisang blew so much of his allowance into buying paper and a pretty new fan. But really, it might have been something else entirely. It doesn’t matter.

What matters is that the argument blew up into a huge fight, with Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue shouting at each other for what feels like hours, until Nie Mingjue says that he never wanted to have a brother anyway, to which Nie Huaisang replies that good, because he doesn’t have one anymore now, right before storming off to his room.

They’ve always had arguments. It’s in their temperament. Back when father was alive, it wasn’t too much of a problem because he always found ways to make them reconcile within the day. The fights they’ve had since his death have been nastier, brought on by Nie Mingjue’s exhaustion from working so much and Nie Huaisang’s frustration at never being enough. They’ve been vicious sometimes, but never like that day. That day, it feels like something broke.

As soon as he reaches his room, Nie Huaisang grabs the largest qiankun bag he can find, and shoves inside all his most precious possessions. Fans, robes, brushes, books… some jewellery and money too, because he’s not stupid no matter what some people seem to think. If he’s running away to Gusu, then he’ll need to pay for inns and food… and for a horse as well, because he’s certainly not going to fly there. Nie Mingjue can keep that stupid sabre.

Figuring that the guards might stop him if he tries to leave through the front door, Nie Huaisang decides to go through the back of the Unclean Realm and take the mountain path. Surveillance there is lesser, and he is quite capable of using his cultivation to quickly climb the high walls, thanks. After that, it's only a matter of finding his way back toward the road to Qinghe, and from there he'll have no trouble going toward Gusu.

At least, that's the plan. 

The truth is, those mountains around the Unclean Realm are rough and hard to navigate, with heavy fogs making it hard to find one's way. It doesn't take long for Nie Huaisang to get lost. He gets a brief moment of hope when the fog lifts after a few hours, until he realises that's only because it has started raining. It soon turns into a downpour and Nie Huaisang, who isn't dressed for that weather, starts getting very cold. 

Desperately trying to find a place to hide from the rain, Nie Huaisang would have missed that little cavern if he hadn't tripped face first right in front of it. He thinks, later, that it might have been fate. For now though, it's just a dry place where he happily takes refuge.

As bad as he is at cultivation and Night Hunts, Nie Huaisang has suffered through enough lessons to know what to do in this situation. He removes all of his drenched clothes, and puts on one of the robes he brought, the thickest one he can find. The wet clothes are laid flat on the floor to help them dry, Nie Huaisang eats one snack, and then sets out to explore his refuge and make sure that nothing there is dangerous. 

One slow burning flame talisman in hand, Nie Huaisang discovers that he isn't in an ordinary cave, but in an abandoned temple. He'd be hard pressed to say who the temple is dedicated to. Time has erased names and signs, and the divinity's statue has suffered so much that he can't even decide if it's a man or a woman. Still, Nie Huaisang isn't one to take unnecessary risks, so he bows before that statue, and offers thanks for the refuge. 

Kneeling before that forgotten god, Nie Huaisang feels something poking at him inside his sleeve. He almost laughs when he discovers that stupid list of his, and then nearly cries instead. 

The list, which for years has brought him comfort, suddenly feels like the physical manifestation of how stupid he is. Did he really think anyone would love him, let alone a person as perfect as the one he's described? And what was he thinking, trying to run away? Even if Lan Wangji somewhat puts up with him, the instant he steps into the Cloud Recesses, Lan Qiren will send him back to Qinghe. That's if he even makes it to Gusu, though, which seems unlikely when he is so badly lost in those inhospitable mountains. He can't even fly up to find his way, because he's a stubborn, talentless little idiot who left his sabre at home. He's probably going to die here, and no one will miss him. If anything they'll be glad he's gone, one less problem to bother them. 

Nie Huaisang does cry in the end. He doesn't want to die, and he's tired of never being good enough for anyone. 

He wonders if that forgotten god would understand the feeling, left behind in this old temple, without anyone praying to them. If that was the god's only temple, then they must have faded away long ago, just like Nie Huaisang might die if he's not rescued. At least, he'll die in a fitting place. 

Outside, night falls. Inside, Nie Huaisang is shivering, no matter how many robes he puts on. He vaguely wonders if he might have a fever, but his head feels too fuzzy to really care. Bored and cold and burning, he starts chatting with that faceless god, almost as if they were old friends.

"We will be if I die here," Nie Huaisang points out as he meticulously divides his snacks so half of them will go to this unknown god. "I hope you don't mind chatter. I'm told I talk too much sometimes."

When his task is finished, he puts the snacks on the dusty altar, and bows again to the deity. It feels like a pitiful offering, but he dares not put his money and jewellery there. 

"I'll need them to have a road built to this place if I survive," he explains. "And then I'll come whenever I can, and encourage others to come too. I think that's a good deal, right?"

There is no answer. He's not quite feverish enough to expect one. Still, it doesn't feel like he's giving enough. Biscuits and a promise… But it's all he had. That and a stupid list about all the things he'll never have, all the things he'll never be. 

"Do you want this as well?" he asks, unfolding the list and laying it on the altar. "Listen, I just want for things to get better. It's all, you know ? Make sure it gets better, and I swear I'll get people to come pray to you again." 

The hidden temple remains silent, save for the sound of heavy rains outside. Growing tired of this one sided conversation, and just tired in general, Nie Huaisang curls up before the altar, wrapped as comfortably in his many robes, and closes his eyes. 

He wonders if Nie Mingjue has even noticed yet that he's gone. Probably not, he figures before losing consciousness, and even if he has, he most likely doesn't care. 

When Nie Huaisang wakes up, it is to the familiar comfort of his own bedroom in the Unclean Realm. He’s tempted, at first, to think that everything was just a bad dream, that he never ran away and found that little temple. It sounds like the sort of stupid dreams he’d have. Quickly though, he figures that something is slightly wrong. First of all, there’s a chair next to his bed. It is empty at the moment, but Nie Huaisang finds vague memories coming back to him, telling him that it has been occupied for a long time. Then, there’s the fact that Nie Huaisang is very thirsty and positively starving, something that rarely happens to him. He never goes for long without snacks of some sort, unless he’s ill.

He thinks back of the temple, how cold and hot he was. Uh. So he really got a fever from all that rain then. It’s embarrassing, and Nie Huaisang is sure that as soon as it’s clear he’s healthy again, he’ll be scolded for his low cultivation that allowed this to happen.

That’s a problem for later. For now, Nie Huaisang’s only worry is that he’s starving. Scoldings he can deal with, but he can’t bear to have an empty stomach. With great effort he rises from his bed, finds a robe to throw on, and leaves his room. He hasn’t taken two steps into the corridor that he finds himself in front of Nie Zonghui and a servant carrying on a tray a bowl of what smells like broth.

“Nie er-gongzi, I’m glad to see you’re well,” Nie Zonghui says, and quite amazingly he seems to mean it. “We were all very worried about you.”

Nie Huaisang rolls his eyes before glancing toward the bowl of broth. He’s salivating already, it’s disgraceful.

“You were so worried that I woke up alone,” Nie Huaisang teases. Then, unable to resist a second longer, he grabs the broth and starts greedily drinking it, manners be damned. He almost chokes on it a few times, but it doesn’t matter, he’s just too hungry to care.

“Slow down!” Nie Zonghui orders him, only to be ignored. “And I had to drag your brother out so he’d have a look at his mail instead, but you can’t have been alone more than five minutes, so don’t complain.”

The bowl emptied, Nie Huaisang puts it back on the tray and thanks the servant. Maybe Nie Zonghui had it right about going slow, because he feels a little nauseous now, but… no way he’ll admit to that.

“Nie zongzhu has been at your side the whole time,” Nie Zonghui insists. “He’s the one who found you, too. Nie gongzi, we really thought we had lost you. What were you thinking, going to such an isolated place? If your brother hadn’t found you when he did…”

Something in his cousin’s tone makes Nie Huaisang shiver. In all honesty, now that he’s not upset about whatever argument he had with Nie Mingjue, he does realise that it was stupid of him to run away like this. He knows the mountains are dangerous, he’s grown on tales of people getting lost or falling to their death. And that’s without getting into the spirits and demons that live there, waiting for whoever will be foolish enough to enter their territory.

“I didn’t mean to worry anyone,” he mutters. “I just wanted to go out without being seen. I was just going to…”

“Tell that to your brother,” Nie Zonghui cuts him. “He’ll be happy to see you’re well enough to be running around. Although you might want to dress a bit more, because…”

Nie Huaisang dashes off without listening. He feels a bit wobbly on his legs, which tells him he might have been out for at least a day or two, but it doesn’t matter. If he looks a little pitiful, Nie Mingjue will be less angry at him for being such a mess of things.

When he enters his brother’s office, Nie Huaisang has the surprise to find that Nie Mingjue isn’t alone in there. There’s a stranger with him, the two of them chatting quite amicably. It must be what Nie Zonghui tried to warn him about. For a moment Nie Huaisang feels rather embarrassed to be seen like this by that very handsome stranger, his hair unkempt, wearing nothing but underwear and a hastily put on robe… but he doesn’t get a lot of time to worry. In an instant Nie Mingjue jumps from his chair and crosses the distance between them to hug him so tight it almost hurts.

“You little idiot,” Nie Mingjue huffs, sounding as if he’s fighting tears. “What are you doing up? Did the healer say you can?”

“I was bored and hungry and I wanted to see you,” Nie Huaisang retorts, glancing toward the stranger and wishing he’d go away. He has apologies to make, but he can’t do that in front of an audience. In fact, he expects his brother to make the young man leave. Their fights are always awful, but they’ve never not reconciled before, and they both get so tearful over it, which Nie Mingjue doesn’t want anyone to know because he has a reputation.

It’s a shock when Nie Mingjue doesn’t say anything to that stranger, and starts apologising anyway.

“I’m sorry we had that fight,” he grumbles. “I was tired, I shouldn’t have said that… A-Sang, are you ok? You had such a bad fever, I really thought… don’t run away like that again, you hear me?”

Nie Huaisang nods. He wants to return the apology, but there’s still that young man, looking at them with a fond smile, and it’s starting to make him very uncomfortable. He’d like some privacy, thanks.

“Who’s that?” he asks, nodding toward the stranger.

The young man frowns at the question, while Nie Mingjue pulls away from the hug to give his brother a concerned look. He even goes so far as to put his hand on Nie Huaisang’s forehead.

“No, the fever’s gone,” he says. “Huaisang, is this a joke?”

“Why would I be joking?”

Nie Mingjue glances behind at the man who looks just as puzzled as him, and frowns.

“Huaisang… that’s Xichen.”

His tone of voice makes it clear that the identity of the young man is very obvious to him, and should be obvious to Nie Huaisang as well. Intrigued, Nie Huaisang looks more closely at the young man, trying to remember if they’ve met before.

“Lan Xichen?” he hazards, judging by the embroidered ribbon and the pale robes, to which his brother nods.

It doesn’t ring any bells. If there’s a Lan Xichen in the inner Lan clan, then Nie Huaisang has never met him, never heard of him… which is very odd, because this young man seems barely older than him, so they should have been introduced when Nie Huaisang went to study in the Cloud Recesses. Besides, he’s sure he would have remembered someone that handsome, with features so similar to Lan Wangji’s that they could be twins. Not only that, but the quality of his sword and the jade token hanging from his belt mark him as being very high in the hierarchy of Gusu Lan, so really Nie Huaisang can’t imagine how he wouldn’t have taken notice of such a person.

“I was in the area and I thought I should say hi to Mingjue,” Lan Xichen explains with a warm smile, his voice gentle and pleasant to the ear. “I was told you had been unwell, but I’m glad you are getting better.”

“I don’t know how much better he is if he doesn’t remember you,” Nie Mingjue grumbles. “You’ve only been visiting me every other month for the last four years, and spent a whole damn year tutoring him in Gusu. Damn brat left his bed too soon. I’m taking him back and then we can chat some more, Xichen.”

Nie Huaisang blinks a few times, and takes a step back.

Something is wrong.

Something is very wrong.

His brother never speaks so casually to people outside their sect. In fact, even inside their sect, there’s only a few people he’ll talk to like this, mostly Nie Huaisang, Nie Zonghui, and a few other cousins close in age. Nie Mingjue doesn’t trust anyone outside of Qinghe Nie, and he does his best to keep his distance from others so nobody forgets to treat him as a full sect leader in spite of his youth.

Aside from that, Nie Huaisang might have somehow missed a Lan Xichen while he was in Gusu, but he would have noticed if the Unclean Realm had gotten such a frequent visitor for this long, and he certainly would remember if anyone had tried to tutor him last year.

“With your permission, I’d like to stay here until your brother gets better,” Lan Xichen offers. “My uncle’s business is dealt with so there’s no emergency, and that way we could travel back to Gusu together so I keep an eye on him. I know Wangji wouldn’t forgive me if I let his friend go alone after such an ordeal.”

Nie Huaisang tenses, his eyes going wide.

Nobody calls Lan Wangji like this except his uncle. Everyone else gives him a very polite Lan Wangji, or more likely calls him Lan gongzi, to show the proper respect and deference due to a future sect leader.

“Still can’t believe your brother took a shine to that brat of mine,” Nie Mingjue huffs. “Opposites attract can only go so far.”

Lan Xichen laughs, and it’s the most pleasant sound Nie Huaisang has ever heard in his life, but he barely notices it because he’s panicking.

Lan Wangji doesn’t have a brother. Nie Huaisang knows this for sure because it’d be kind of a big detail to miss about his friend.

Lan Wangji doesn’t have a brother, but Nie Mingjue apparently thinks he does, and that it’s this young man in front of them.

A young man who does look like Lan Wangji, down to the golden flakes in his eyes, but smiles as if the whole world makes him happy.

A young man who apparently gets along very well with Nie Mingjue, who is kind and considerate and who, judging by the way he keeps glancing toward Nie Huaisang, might have some fondness for him as well.

A young man who looks right out of Nie Huaisang’s wildest fantasy, but is apparently real and standing right before him.

Nie Huaisang feels his legs go weak under him, and has to grab his brother’s arm to avoid collapsing.

Make sure it gets better, he asked that forgotten god, handing them a list full of his wildest dreams. It certainly wasn’t what Nie Huaisang meant. All he’d wanted was to not die and go home and maybe not be scolded too hard, not this.

“Huaisang, what’s wrong?” Nie Mingjue shouts.

“His pulse is too fast,” Lan Xichen says, having come closer and grabbed his wrist. “He must not have been as well healed as it seemed… Mingjue, you have to make him lay down, I’ll got get the healers.”

In a daze and feeling darkness creep upon his mind, Nie Huaisang almost wants to laugh.

This is such a mess.

Also, apparently, he has a debt toward a god now.

[sheadre]

Aurora Borealis (Jiang Cheng x Reader) Part Two

Summary: Zhu Ran'En (Reader) the imperial princess, was sent into exile for a crime she did not commit. Meeting Jiang Wanyin, the Yunmeng Jiang sect's leader was not just a chance meeting. Their fates were written in the stars however, her relations to the royal family will never let her live in peace. How will she manage to save the kingdom while trying to keep Jiang Wanyin away from the snakes of the royal family?

Word count: 3281

Warnings: this story contains violence, blood, mindgames, scheming, angst, romance, fluff with Jiang Cheng, awkward flirting.

A/N: If you liked this story, please like and comment or reblog! You may find this story on quotev.com/Vaeri or on ao3. Please check out my other works in the Mo Dao Zu Shi fandom! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!＜（＾－＾）＞

You sat in silence as you sipped on your tea with your face ordered into nonchalance. You got used to having to wear a neutral mask around people in the palace and it was a habit that couldn’t be easily left behind. Your (e/c) eyes looked the sect leader over who was eying you with suspicion. He was handsome as was told by many in the kingdom, his features chiseled and strong, his body lean and tall. You already had time to check him out when you first encountered him but a second glance couldn’t hurt, now could it?

If you would still be a part of the court, your father would definitely try and engage you to Jiang Wanyin. Your father always wished for a strong son-in-law who could protect his daughter. And this time, you wouldn’t protest.

“Imperial guards are asking about your highness all around the other towns in this region” Jiang Wanyin spoke up with a scowl. “You are already spending your time in exile.”

“My dear cousin wishes to secure her place in the court and fears that I will take action” you shrugged. “Not that she is wrong.”

“Your highness, are you planning something?” Jiang Wanyin grumbled, his eyes sparkling with lightning. “I warn you, there will be innocent people caught in the middle of your war against whoever offended you in the court. I’m here for them.”

“And I tell you that those innocent people might all be wiped out if you try and restrain me from taking action. Do you even know why I’m here?” you narrowed your eyes at him, your fingernails rattling against the wooden surface of the small table. It seemed Jiang Wanyin failed to dig deeper than the rumors going on around about the case, his light blush of embarrassment was indicating that. You sighed heavily and picked up the kettle to refill your cups while taking a breath to continue: “I caught my cousin and uncle, the second prince talking about money embezzlement and money laundering. They realized their mistake and now I’m here. To simply put it…”

“There is something more to that if your highness seems to be in such a distressed state” the sect leader noted calmly his eyebrows still furrowed. You wondered if anything would make him smile in his life. You imagined him smiling and hid the picture in the back of your mind. He would give a magnificent sight for sure.

“I advise you to not interfere with my plans… if a commoner like you get caught in the war of the royal family, what do you think might become your future?” you asked. Sitting back down, you pulled your hands in your lap but held his stare.

“Those kind of wars always end up being the public’s demise. Are you planning on sacrificing innocent people?” Jiang Wanyin asked back lifting his chin and you could tell that he was already determined in getting involved.

“I plan to earn the emperor’s favor again” you replied not wanting to argue anymore with him. There was no point, you could just leave him out of everything. You didn’t need his help nor wanted it. He had no idea of the monsters ruling the kingdom and how many people would be devoured by them. You got reminded of the hard times in the palace you spent with cornering people, avoiding corrupt ministers’ hands grabbing onto your sleeves so they could get you involved in their shady businesses. Your cousin always tried to get you in trouble so you would get executed but to her misfortune you were too smart.

“By starting a war?!” Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth angrily.

“Starting one?!” you jumped to your feet from anger. Of course, the sect leader wouldn’t know about anything of your plans but his nosiness annoyed you. “I’m going to end the rebellion the war generals of Wu, Yan and Jin are planning!”

“Rebellion?” his jaw went slack. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms in front of your chest with a huff.

“If you were sharp enough to notice the imperial guards roaming the area, you should’ve rather noticed the brewing war under our feet” you noted as you sat back down. You didn’t really care about the fact that he left out your title by now. You were convinced that you didn’t need his help but… maybe you were wrong and should consider accepting his hand if he would offer. You had no army, Jiang Wanyin had, you had no connection to the other sects, he had. Then you started massaging the bridge of your nose continuing: “Forgive me for my words… I did not mean to be so harsh, it is only frustrating me so much that I know what awaits us if my cousin and uncle wins. The emperor is old and sickly, everyone is already preparing for the coronation of Crown Prince… however, without me looking out for his highness, I have no idea if he will live long enough to become emperor.”

Silence stretched between you two, him staring you down while you sipped on your tea with the perfect mask of calm. It was quite easy to pull it on by now. You were already planning your next move as you sat there. Perhaps, Jiang Wanyin could be a key character in your heroic story, you just needed to pull the strings in the right way… but that was quite hard.

“Your highness, I am only here to warn you” Jiang Cheng spoke up suddenly and stood up then. “Do not sacrifice innocent people.” His eyes were spitting lightning at you from where he stood before Jiang Cheng turned around and stormed out of the mansion. You smiled at his lack of manners, his temper reminded you of a friend you left in the palace. You wondered how Xiao Pei was doing now that he was by himself. He got a high rank in the military but everyone knew of your good relations. He was like a little brother to you.

You knew that Jiang Wanyin will come back to you in the near future. The news about a rebellion of the three small counties was spreading. Wu, Yan and Jin generals had authority over the three counties closest to where Yunmeng was located. Yunmeng would be the first to meet their united armies once the generals would advance towards the capital. However, you had much to do in the meantime. With a smirk you went back to your study and rolled out a blank parchment.

Jiang Cheng’s PoV.

Jiang sect leader was furious by the way the princess was acting. There was a war brewing under their feet and she was only adamant on getting her place back at the palace. Her position was more important to her than anything else! She was just like the other royals, sacrificing innocent people for wealth and power. He felt foolish for hoping that maybe Zhu Ran’En was different and was rebelling to stop injustice. He was wrong.

For a second he hoped that she was different, that she was using the dark ways of cultivation because she needed to. However, the evil glint in her eyes told him otherwise. Arriving back to Yunmeng gave him a feeling of calm and tranquility. As the days passed, he easily forgot about the princess, work piling up. He spent nights figuring out the financials and counting how much money they needed for the replacements of training dummies and other supplies. Wei Wuxian showed up with his… husband, Hanguang-Jun and was annoying Jiang Cheng to the point he was sporting a massive headache.

“Ah, Jiang Cheng! I heard you went after the Dark Princess!” Wei Ying burst into the study with a large excited grin on his face. Wanyin was already starting to massage his temples but had yet to yell at his brother. “Is she as pretty as the rumors say?! How was she?!”

“Why are you so excited suddenly, ay?” Wanyin asked back as he put down the brush knowing that he won’t be doing any more progress today. “Have you got tired of Hanguang-Jun?”

“Wha-?! Why are you saying such things, Jiang Cheng?!” Wei Wuxian leaned forward right into Jiang Cheng’s face with a scrutinizing gaze before his face lit up like he found the problem for world peace. “Are you being defensive because you like her?!”

“Wha-?! Why would I like her?!” Wanyin jumped up to his feet with his fists trembling by his sides. “She’s evil and vicious! She’s not pretty at all! Just one of the pampered princesses only caring about wealth!”

“Did you get rejected by her?” Wei Ying narrowed his eyes in thought as he tried to guess. “That is why you’re so sour, Jiang Cheng?”

“Who is sour?! Huh?!” Wanyin felt like jumping out of his skin. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to strangle his brother or run away and never look back until he found peace. Lately that term seemed to not exist. People were always finding him for something. A broken practice dummy here, a young disciple in need of a practice sword because the one he had was lost to the river or broken. Was it really such a luxurious request to just be left alone for a while?

What irked the sect leader even more was the fact that Wei Wuxian was not the first person to ask him about the matters of marriage. The elders expressed their concern of a sect heir because other men in his age was already married with at least two children. It wasn’t about him not having any interest in the matter but he was just too busy to think about it. He had no time to court anyone and he refused to just marry a woman he never met before.

“Wei Ying” came suddenly Hanguang-Jun’s quiet voice and just like an obedient pet, Wei Wuxian turned to his husband with a wide smile on his face and hurried over to the entering cultivator. At least, Hanguang-Jun still had manners and bowed to Jiang Cheng upon entering the study. “It is time we leave Jiang sect leader to his duties and do not bother him longer. We have to take care of those ghosts in Chongyang.”

“Alright…” the Yiling Patriarch sighed deflating at the lost chance to annoy his brother further. Jiang Wanyin walked his guests out to the pier with prayers to the heavens for helping him out. His thoughts then turned back to Zhu Ran’En. What was she planning? She was so sure about her success it was giving him chills. She was definitely an enemy he didn’t want to make.

At Chongyang:

The city was quiet. The people were all acting scared and worried, lines were forming on their forehead the second they spotted someone unfamiliar. Fog was encasing the whole city, vendors closed their shops and went to somewhere safe. The small inn which welcomed Hanguang-Jun and Wei Wuxian with reluctance was close to the middle of the city. Wei Wuxian tried to ask around about the sightings of the ghosts but got short replies of the same kind. All of the people were talking about the grey clothed ghosts or corpses who roamed the city at night and killed those who stepped foot on the streets. A few men mentioned that it all started after the appearance of a man in the clothes of the royal officials. No one knew what the man was doing in the city or if he was still around.

It all sounded suspicious to him. So Hanguang-Jun and Wei Ying decided to stay at the inn and see what happens at night. Wei Wuxian sat with his back to his husband’s chest when his ears suddenly perked up at the sound of an erhu. He jumped up and went to the window not caring about his state of clothing. He scanned the area with his eyes narrowed and soon spotted a dark figure standing on the rooftop of the building forty chi distance far from his position. The delicate figure of a woman was sitting on the rooftop with an erhu in her lap. A cold calmness was surrounding her as the wind blew her long dark hair.

“Lan Zhan, look” he mumbled while his husband walked up behind him.

“Resentful energy” Hanguang-Jun said with a low voice.

“Mnn” Wei Wuxian nodded and pulled his robes tighter around himself fixing it before grabbing Chenqing. “Let’s check it out!”

Your PoV.

The city was quiet as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. You always loved to watch life go by under your feet when you observed the world from the rooftop of a building. It was calming, like you weren’t a part of the world and could disappear from sight to watch everything happen without actually taking part in anything. You sat there in silence as the sky turned dark and the stars appeared. The fog around the city only obscured the vision of the starry night sky from those who stood below. However, you could easily admire the beauty of the night. Then you heard it. Otherworldly grunts and moans coming from below.

Liu Minister, who visited the city a few days ago and whom you should’ve met here disappeared when the animated corpses started roaming the city at night. The minister – who was your good ally – sent letter to you about someone following him since he left the Imperial palace in the capital. Pulling out your erhu from your back, you smiled mischievously while you hummed a tune. A tune you learnt from your mother. 恶梦È mèng (Wicked Dream) was the song your mother taught you when her family was accused of treason and got executed. After that, your mother lost the favor of the emperor and was the laughing stock of the people in court. The night you found her dead body, you heard those notes coming from her quarters. You promised yourself to find her killer because even if she was ashamed, even if she lost the favor of the emperor, she would’ve never committed suicide.

The notes were flying in the air as you played. Resentful energy surrounding you before black mist circled the animated corpses and closed around them. You were curious if the culprit would show themselves if you annoyed them with binding the corpses together. Your ears then perked up and before the two newcomers could land on the rooftop you were sitting on, you jumped over to another one.

“Ah, I remember you!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed with a large grin on his face. “You’re the lady who gave up the table for us!”

“Ahaha, nice seeing you again, Young master” you smiled at him.

“You’re using resentful energy” Hanguang-Jun stated but his tone was not scolding. There was no warning in his words, just a simple statement, an observation. You expected a different reception when you thought about meeting this pair again.

“What can this humble one do?” you asked, shrugging your shoulders with a pout. “This is the only way for me to cultivate.”

“Don’t you have a golden core, Imperial Princess?” the Yiling Patriarch asked then. Your smile widened before you let out a mirthful laugh. He was smarter than you thought he was. If he would be your opponent at court, you would have fun for sure.

“A princess is taught to learn embroidery and etiquette, Wei gōngzǐ” you replied squinting your eyes before turning to the corpses. “Don’t you find it interesting that these appear once a minister disappears? Hmn?”

You were well aware of him noticing how you changed the subject but it seemed he decided not to object to it. It was clear you weren’t his enemy which in your opinion was based on where he was standing when your plans were executed. Opinions and interests can change in a matter of time after all. Then you heard clapping from down below. Tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. It was repeated once more before the corpses broke out of your energy shield. Their angry moans and grunts could be heard as they approached the buildings you were standing on. Soon, screaming was heard from the house and you saw that it was the house of a merchant.

You stamped your foot on the tiles which broke under the force and a hole opened up under you. You landed inside the bedroom of the frightened merchant and his wife who were hiding behind the over turned table. The corpses stumbled inside toppling over each other but you were quick enough the cut them off before they could get to the pair. Hanguang-Jun and Wei Wuxian was soon following you through the hole and before you had to say anything, Lan Wangji grabbed the husband and wife and took them to safety. Unleashing your full power felt like you opened the gate of a dam. Yet it felt even more liberating when the Yiling Patriarch followed you in tow.

You saw the grin spreading on his lips and knew that he felt the same thing. This burst of power was enough to decapitate all the corpses in close proximity. You hurried downstairs and went out to the street to be faced with more animated corpses. Your sword was a simple sword but was your trusted ally in battles by now. It shimmered in the light of the few lampions placed above the street. Otherwise, the fog made it hard to see further than one chǐ. (That’s like half a meter)

You heard someone whistle with the wind from the distance. You cursed under your breath knowing that the culprit was already too far for you to catch up.

“Lan Zhan went after him” Wei Wuxian spoke up from behind you suddenly. Then you heard the dull thud of corpses falling to the ground. The puppet master was too far to control the corpses.

“He’s too far by now…” you sighed with your eyebrows furrowed.

“Your Highness seems to be upset” he noted stepping closer to you.

“The Minister who visited the city before the corpses appeared…” you started staring at the ground as the fog dissolved around you. “He is a good man but I think he is dead by now or at least the culprit took him with themselves.”

“You are familiar with the minister, aren’t you, Your Highness?” he asked.

“Stop calling me that, Wei gongzi” you shook your head with a sad smile. “I no longer possess the title, not officially.”

“The man got away” Hanguang-Jun spoke up once he landed in front of the two of you. “But he tried to obscure my vision with this.” He lifted his hand with a handkerchief in it. Your eyes widened and quickly approached him taking it from his outstretched hand. The fabric was one of the most expensive materials, only the imperial palace had access to something of the kind. It was a pearly white with the symbol of the Huang house.

“That dirty pip-squeak! Cui!*” you spat angrily as your hand curled into a fist with the handkerchief between your fingers.

“I assume your highness is troubled over the matter” Wei Wuxian quipped curiosity shining in his eyes. You turned around and started walking towards the other direction as you said.

“This is an Imperial matter, please stay out of trouble” your voice rang through the street even when the fog already swallowed you. “This is way too dangerous for those who do not belong to the court.”

To be continued…

*Cuì=啐 is a sound for spitting.

[discotreque]

Picard 1.08: Broken Pieces

I'm so tired, y'all. My cat ate one of my hair elastics, because she's an idiot, and she was up all night puking extremely loudly all over the apartment. I have reached the age where I can't just bounce back from a sleepless night with a couple of Red Bulls and sheer force of will, so I'm kinda wrecked.

But I don't think I've ever been so wrecked that I couldn't ramble about Star Trek for a minute, so—shall we?

Spoilers:

We open on Aia, "The Grief World," possibly the most extra name for a planet in all of Star Trek canon.

This flashback is set 14 years ago, and Ramdha is present. But when we met her as one of the disordered Romulan xBs, they said she and her ship were assimilated 16 years ago. Either I'm misremembering or that's an obvious error. Which happens—I'm not mad, just confused.

Speaking of confusion: we see only female Romulans experiencing the Admonition (cool name btw), and Oh mentions a tradition passed down from their "foremothers." Are the Zhat Vash a female-only sect like the Qowat Milat? If so, what's Narek's deal? Or are only women Admonished, and male Zhat Vash agents just have to take their word for it?

None of this actually matters. I told you I was tired.

I really liked the scene with Narissa and Ramdha, mainly because I like Peyton List a lot and she got to show some complexity for a change, but Narissa remains an uncompelling villain to me. Even if she thinks she's working to save trillions of lives, she's indulging in an awful lot of sadism along the way; you get the impression she'd be torturing and murdering people even if she weren't an anti-android crusader.

They told us up front that Rios had a tragic backstory, but wowwwww. Two weeks in a row, this show gets us grieving for a character we've never met—impressive.

Prop watch! The phaser Raffi pulls on Soji looks more like a 21st-century firearm than any weapon we've ever seen on Star Trek, which added some possibly-unintentional heft to the scene. You just don't get the same visceral reaction seeing someone held at dustbuster-point.

The return of Admiral Fucking Bongwater! I worry Oh's going to get her before this is all over, though.

More infinitesimally tiny nitpicking: the JJ Abrams movies introduced the idea that phaser bolts on "stun" are blue, and ones on "kill" are red, and as far as I could tell, the first two seasons of Discovery used the same convention. (Which is a retcon I'm fine with: it makes fight scenes more visually understandable.) We've seen both red and blue phaser fire on Picard, and every confirmed phaser kill has been from a red shot. This episode, we see Seven shoot a bunch of Romulans with blue bolts, but later Narissa says they were killed by phasers. I don't know what to believe anymore!!!

I have literally never been more attracted to Jeri Ryan than in this episode. What a babe.

Every conversation about Data on this show ends up making me weepy. "He loved you" was the heavy hitter line, of course, but Picard saying that he felt as limited in his own emotional capacity as Data also had me reeling.

I totally called the engineering hologram being Scottish. Is it a terribly clever joke? No. Did I know they would be powerless to resist it anyway? Yes. Did I laugh my ass off when it finally came to pass? Absolutely I did.

Moving stars around the galaxy is pretty cool, but I read a novel once where some hyper-advanced aliens were moving stars back in time. Way cooler.

The physical comedy in the scene with Mr. Hospitality the close-talker and Raffi, who has a basic normal sense of personal space, was hilarious.

Rios is a sad boy who listens to sad songs on vinyl records and reads sad philosophy books. So basically he's every guy I knew in my 20's, zing!

Say what you will about the writing on this show, but the acting is almost uniformly phenomenal. I've heard more than one actor say that being on a show with Sir Patrick Stewart makes you instinctively up your acting game, and honestly, I think it shows all over the place, even when P. Stew's not in the actual scene.

All of that last point was basically to say Jeri Ryan is also acting her ass off this episode. I always thought she was a great actor, all the way from her debut on Voyager, but she is taking it to another level here and I cannot look away.

Can't decide who's showing off more in the scene with all the holograms: Santiago Cabrera or director Maja Vrvilo. Standing ovation to them both.

Raffi calls Rios's record player a "Walkman," which is adorable.

I will literally bet money that, had we seen Beautiful Flower (RIP), he would have been played by a relatively makeup-free Brent Spiner. Furthermore, I predict we're going to see another android from that line (i.e. Spiner returning sans the Data makeup) before the end of the season. And if it doesn’t happen and I remember to, I will call myself out.

Agnes is like "I promise I won't kill you," and Soji's just "Like you fucking could."

There was a cute moment on the Ready Room this week when Wil Wheaton mentioned seeing an early cut of this episode without most of the VFX, and Jeri Ryan's immediate reaction was "Oh, so I looked like a total idiot!"

All those Borg being vented into space was rugged as fuck. This show has gone to some lengths to establish individual Borg drones as not only victims, but victims who can potentially be saved. On TNG and Voyager, you cheered when a Borg cube blew up. On this show, when thousands of drones are unceremoniously killed, it feels like the massacre it is.

Everyone who's been whining about the nasty, nasty language on this show is going to have a fucking field day with this episode.

Speaking of f-bombs, I get the feeling Picard should have called Clancy back with the news that her head of security is a Romulan agent. Seems like information she should have, um, ASAP?

When Soji took over La Sirena with zero difficulty I burst out laughing. Like father, like daughter!

I am extremely interested to see what happens next with this Borg cube.

Picard's speech to Rios feels like the thesis of this whole show. I like it.

And fuckin' Narek is still around. Ugh.

Next week is Part 1 of the two-part season finale: "Et in Arcadia Ego." How's that for a title?

[elven-oracle]

under the rose: part 1 |th.

CATCH A GRENADE

moodboard courtesy of @mcuspidey

SUMMARY: Would you do anything for the person you love?

Would you do anything for the person you lust?

PAIRING: Agent!Tom Holland x Agent!Reader

WORD COUNT: 4k

sub rosa: adjective and adverb. formal. happening or done in secret. directly translated from latin: “under the rose.”

Part 2

Part 1: Catch a Grenade

When you signed on to become an agent for a secret sect of the government, you hadn’t realized that the job meant being in disguise almost all hours of the day.

From the moment you entered your place of work, a mask shaded your face. You went from being one person around your family to someone else entirely around your fellow field agents, but there was no one you shaded yourself more from than your partner. For him, you masked yourself completely. 

Tom Holland was practically James Bond, and he knew it.

He had been assigned to you after multiple cases of “conflicts of interests” according to Human Resources. After not much digging (you were an agent after all), your suspicions were confirmed. Tom had seduced his way through the female agents of their tier to the point where he was practically impossible to work with. Even the men of their department refused to work with him. You were the last-ditch effort. Upon discovering that, you made it your own personal secret mission to make that effort a success. You wanted to become the agency’s new favorite agent. Dealing with Tom was just a step in your path to climbing the ranks. 

What he was after, you weren’t sure. Your theory was that he wished to work alone, and was trying to run the higher-ups dry of possible partnership opportunities, or even force them into giving him a promotion. Unfortunately for him, you had been the longest-lasting partner, having been paired with him for 6 months. His lips hadn’t come near to any part of your skin. No matter how delicious he attempted to be. 

When your partner entered the room, all eyes gravitated to the way he walked. It was confident, yet you knew from the deepness of your heart that the false confidence was manifested from a dangerous arrogance. You had been working alongside Tom long enough to know how seriously he took himself, and how much of a joke everyone else was in his mind. You were the only one who didn’t fall to your knees at the sight of him. You dismissed him as if he was any other agent on level 36. 

You didn’t lift your eyes when you felt him standing next to you, knowing that he had plenty of people already giving him the attention he needed. The game you played with him rubbed him the wrong way and you knew it and loved it. There was no one more he wanted to crack than you, yet nothing seemed to phase you. His penetrating aura had nothing on you. It barely left a scratch.

Which wasn’t to say it didn’t occasionally knock.

You felt his breath on his neck as he squeezed past you, laying a hand on your shoulder to get by which you promptly rolled your shoulders away from in an attempt to send a message. You were never sure if he actually received it, but it was always worth a shot. He had to figure it out one day. 

“We need to be downstairs for a debriefing in five minutes,” you spoke sternly, pursing your ruby red lips as you finished the sentence. He was typically late to debriefings, so telling him the time frame was probably not going to be much help. Picking up the two files sitting on your desk for your current case, you waited to see if he would join you in heading to the second floor, or if he was just going to be late. When it was obvious it was the latter, you rolled your eyes and proceeded to the elevator.

Yourself and Tom were assigned to one of the most secret missions currently being taken on by the agency. After what felt like endless weeks of research, today was the day one of you, Tom, would finally be venturing into the field. As much as both of you loved research and paperwork (which was close to not at all), it was the disguises and collecting evidence that really gave you the rush. To most people, the act of putting one’s life on the line sounded terrifying, but you had always been an adrenaline junkie. Going for what was dangerous was what spoke to you. 

“This mission is completely sub rosa. You have signed a contract saying that discussing this mission outside of this room and with each other is strictly prohibited. No agents below level 8 are permitted to know anything on Mission 8382. Is this understood?” Chief Agent Madison had her snowy white hair tied tightly back into a bun that rested in the middle of her head, and her eyes were fixed not on you, but on Tom, who had shown up 10 minutes late with a coffee in hand. 

“Yes, ma’am,” you were the only one who spoke. In your peripheral, you saw Tom roll his eyes.

Because yeah, that’s a great way to get in my pants.

“Agent Holland?”

“Yes I understand,” it was almost irritating how chocolatey his British accent stood out amongst the sea of Americans. You stifled a heavy sigh of annoyance.

You both were walked through the basic outline of the mission, which you were both familiar with. The debrief before heading into the field was more of a formality than anything. 

The end goal for you and Tom was to expose a group responsible for one of the largest sex-trafficking empires in the world. It was a case that your department had been following since before you had even been hired, and keeping everything under wraps and running smoothly was of the utmost importance. There was no room for error. Luckily, Tom was good enough at his job to know that. 

“Agent Holland will be heading into the facility first. His application to work for them has been processed, and he has memorized everything that we put on it to make sure that his cover is secure. After a few weeks, he will be asking if his girlfriend, Agent Y/L/N, can come along with him as long as she keeps her mouth shut,” Chief Agent Madison hit a button and another formal-looking slide took the place of the previous, “From there you two will be gathering as much intel as possible. Talk to people, gain their trust, get to know them. You will file a mission report at the end of each day, and when it seems like we have enough information, you’ll be pulled and reassigned to your next case.”

The debrief was always a formality that no agent was a major fan of. It was essential so that agents were held accountable while in the field, but after spending so long in preparation for this case, having the chief of the agency reiterate what you already knew was only making you more anxious to get into your disguise and onto the field. Of course, it was Tom Holland who got to make the initial contact, but that boiled down to the underlying sexism in the criminal world that you were all too familiar with. The men of this trafficking ring were more likely to accept a young man and his girlfriend into their group rather than vice versa. 

“All right. Head to level 40 for your disguise debrief.” 

The red wig was a deep crimson that, by a miracle, didn’t look tacky. The dark red locks fell in waves over your shoulders, perfectly complimenting the red lipstick you had taken to wearing on the daily, solely to get used to the way it felt on your lips. Usually, you only wore makeup for special occasions, but the character you would be embodying for an extensive amount of time was an ex-waitress from New Jersey. Wearing heavy makeup on the daily had become second nature.  

To your left sat Tom, whose hair was usually styled to perfection, but now a charming pile of curls that barely didn’t cover his eyes. He looked displeased. 

“Is this really neces-”

“Yes Agent Holland, it is,” the woman fixing his hair was just as British as he was, steam coming out of her ears as she spoke. She must have fallen victim to Tom’s advances by the way he smirked at her in response. 

You, on the other hand, liked the way you looked. The name you had come up with to go along with your cover fit the look well. Staring at the cat-eye flicked on your eyelid and the thick lashes, both of which you had placed on yourself, you perked your lips into barely a smile. This woman’s name was definitely Rose.

You had heard the term sub rosa so many times in the past few weeks, and just in general with your career, that you couldn’t help but create a name using a play on words. Tom had offered his disapproval almost instantly, but you weren’t really a fan of his name either. 

“Ay,” he said in a well-developed New York American accent, “‘Name’s Johnny.”

It could not be more of a cliche. 

The weeks that you were waiting to be thrown into the field were slow. You hated that Tom was the one to go first, no matter how many times you had reminded yourself that it was essential to the mission for Tom to make the introductions. It was not the agency’s fault that men, especially criminals, saw women as accessories rather than assets. If anything, you were a slightly better and definitely more professional agent than your partner. 

You kept a careful eye on him while he worked, whispering suggestions into his earpieces, which he took about half the time. It was better than what you expected, which was he wouldn’t take any feedback at all. Typically he didn’t leave their main meeting base until about midnight or sometimes later. The day-to-day activities of the world’s most wanted criminals were more mundane than you had anticipated, limited to playing cards, watching sports, and lots of drinking and drugs. Tom only took part in minimal drinking, usually escaping to the bathroom to dump them out. He only wanted to give off the appearance that he was drunk.

By week four, it was hard not to get exasperated. You were starting to wonder if he was dragging the process out on purpose to keep you excluded from the case. He easily could have brought you into the picture during week three. Chewing on your lip, you listened to the menial conversation that that day’s group made while smoking blunts. Tom cleared his voice and started to speak.

“Hey boys, I was wonderin’ if my girl could start coming by,” on the small screen with the low-quality camera, you could see his pixelated body lean back into the chair, his arm swinging across the back. 

A man that was usually referred to by the name of Hardy perked up, taking a hit and leaning on his knees, “Your girl….”

A different man, nicknamed “Candy” (you didn’t care to find out why) spoke next, “Will she keep her mouth shut?”

Tom this time, “Of course. She’s dumber than a doornail, she has no idea, what happens here.”

You held back rolling your eyes. It was all a part of the backstory, your alias had purposefully been written as not the smartest, but hearing it from Tom’s mouth had a different sort of way about it.

“Why does she want to tag along then?” it was Smithy that asked the next question. 

“Just lost her job at Hooter’s,” the entire male group’s ears perked at the sound of that, “And she isn’t particularly the stay-at-home type.” 

A dark brooding figure appeared amongst them in the outskirts of where the camera lens stopped, just at his presence, the entire dynamic of the room change, the attention going immediately to him as if waiting for something absolutely profound to be said. After a pungent pause, his profound words turned out to be, “We could use a little bit of ass around here.”

It was followed by chuckles and a few playful punches to Tom’s shoulders. 

“Perfect,” by the way Tom was speaking, you could tell he was smiling, “I’ll bring her with me tomorrow.”

…

The drive to the evil lair was silent. If it had been any quieter, Tom probably would have been able to hear how your heart was pounding in your chest. Since he had already been doing this for a month, this was just another day of work for him, as much as this degree of “work” could be. There had been barely any intel in the month he had been working the case, only drinking and smoking. It was almost as if Tom, and now you, were getting a very tense vacation. 

“Nervous?” you could see the warehouse by the time the first word was said. 

“Me? Johnny, please,” you said it in the thick, well-practiced New Jersey accent that had been a part of studying this woman you were becoming. 

Out of the corner of your eye, a hint of a smile twitched on his mouth.

You placed a pair of sunglasses over your eyes, a tacky pair that were so huge they shaded your eyebrows, not because it was bright outside but because the truth was you were slightly nervous. It wasn’t like shading your eyes from the criminals would protect you in any way, 

The room that they spent most of their time in smelled of booze and weed (not much of a shock), with a hint of metal that probably came from the tall pillars and an entire wall that was elaborately decorated in graffiti, which were unintelligible through the crappy observation cameras that you were so used to looking at. With a deep inhale, you took in the scene, trying to memorize every detail. 

The large man, the one that had given his seal of approval on Tom’s “girl” being allowed to come around, was the first to greet you. After the months of surveillance, you still had never caught his actual name. He was strictly referred to as “boss.” If you could weasel your way into figuring out what his name actually was, it would be a major lead in your case. In the moments that you had spoken with Tom about it, he had mentioned that his efforts to crack the alias hadn’t come to anything. As much as you hated it, maybe the boss needed a little more than what Tom was able to give him. 

The man was tall, broad, and a lot more handsome than you had expected. He was tough in a sexy way, with the hint of stubble speckling his jawline, and veins popping out of the muscles that extended out of the white tank that tightly hugged his toned body. He approached you, slowly, sizing you up as if you weren’t the meek girl that you were pretending to be. Little did know, he was dealing with one of the most highly trained agents in the United States. 

His fingers brushed a strand of your fake, red hair over your shoulder, and he took off your sunglasses for you, closing them with his mouth and placing them in the front pocket of your jeans, moving as if someone had pressed the “slo-mo” button. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” his accent was Australian, “I’m glad you’re able to start joining us.”

You snapped your gum, ignoring the drumbeat of your heart, and spoke with your Jersey accent, “Pleasure’s all mine, mister.” 

Tom’s hand snaked around your waist, and you ignored the butterfly feeling that accompanied it. No one had touched you like that for as long as you could remember. The way that he pulled you close following the subtle touch, you felt as if he was being protective. You turned your head so that you were facing him, each of your faces temptingly inches away from each other.

“Now, boss, let’s not get too handsy, eh?” Tom accompanied his teasing tone by placing a toothpick in between his teeth. He kissed the side of your head, which was rough but sort of endearing at the same time. 

You soon discovered that your perception of what the men spent their time doing was exactly correct. Chairs in a circle accompanied by an endless supply of beers and straight whiskey. You kept to the beers, and when a blunt was passed around, you politely declined. 

“History of lung cancer,” you winked at one of the guys across from you. You were pretty sure it was Hardy. His jet black hair was slicked back to a point where you were sure that wringing it out would follow with an ugly amount of hair product dripping out. He looked as if he belonged in Grease. 

You had gotten what you wanted, though. Hardy responded with a slight bite to his lip and a subtle hiding of his eye contact upon noticing that Tom was glaring at him. 

He was certainly good at playing his role. This was the most emotion you had gotten from Tom in all the months you had been working with him. 

“Boys,” Boss clapped, his voice immediately altering the energy in the room, “I have news from our men on the outside that our rival might be in the area looking to...give us a frighten. Let’s take a walk outside, huh? Grab your toys.” 

Of course, the day that you decided to make an appearance, there was something other than lounging around Home Base. You met eyes with Tom, who responded with a smirk, throwing his shades over his eyes. 

You had heard of the rival group with a few mentions, and you were sure that the agency was on it, possibly assigning other agents to potentially take them down. Being in this line of work had given you a heavy realization that the world was a fucked-up place. 

That’s why you did this. You had always aspired to make the world a better place, and now you had no choice. 

“Of course,” the boss’s attention fixated on you as all the men shuffled to get what you assumed was weapons, “you are more than welcome to come, my dear, but I wouldn’t want you to find yourself getting hurt.” 

You circled your finger around the rim of your beer bottle and sucked the liquid off your manicured finger with a cheeky POP, “I think I’ll be okay, mister.” 

Each of the men filed back in, Tom quick to make his way to you and place a hand on the small of your back. If you hadn’t been wearing your chic denim jacket, his hand would have met bare skin thanks to the leopard print crop top you had picked for that day. A shiver tempted to shake your shoulders. 

It was a hot, muggy summer afternoon in New York. Looking around, you saw that each of the guys you had been with had taken to their own set of shades, trudging through the high grass like they were hunting an animal rather than another group of people. 

One of Tom’s arms held the automatic weapon, and the other hung over your now bare shoulders, the red curls brushing against it. You popped your gum with every step, keeping a keen eye on the situation around you, knowing that the newest people to this gang had the most experience. 

The Jeep came out of nowhere, driving roughly across the field without any question of anyone’s safety. It was who they were looking for. 

What you hadn’t expected was the projectile that flew from the front window, thrown by a man in sunglasses, mouth guarded with a black bandana. It was headed straight for Tom, but before you thought twice, you unraveled yourself from him and caught it, only taking a moment to realize exactly what they had thrown at you.

“Don’t worry, beautiful,” Candy spoke up. “It’s probably a fake-”

You were definitely not going to risk it. It was your first day on the job, and neither you nor Tom was getting killed. Throwing it, you used every muscle in your arm, almost popping it out of its socket. It did the trick, flying across the field far and high, where it exploded.

“Damn,” Candy adjusted his attitude.

The boss was now eying you, his arms crossed and a finger lingering on the corner of his mouth, “You got quite an arm, Rose.” 

It was the first time you had been called by your fake name. 

You laughed, forcing it to sound as natural as possible. Rose was an airhead after all. 

“I was softball captain my senior year of high school. Guess your throwin’ arm never truly goes away, huh?” with another laugh, you wrapped your arms around Tom’s waist, the feeling of his abs pressing into your chest, “I saved your life, huh baby?”

On his lips were a smile, but his brown eyes were filled with some concern that was unfamiliar to you. Tom never worried about any one of his partners, “You sure did.”

The kiss was short and soft, and while you wished you could have said it was detached, all a part of the facade, there was something sugary about the way he interlocked your lips. 

“Careful,” you said, brushing his lips with your finger. “I’m wearing my good lipstick.” 

When you had returned to home base, you needed to take a minute to yourself. Asking for the restroom, you escaped to the grungy, foul-smelling bathroom that was littered with more graffiti. 

The mirror was scratched and etched with names and quotes and years that were remnants of the past. With a deep inhale you took a square of toilet paper and dabbed at the sweat that was shining on your forehead and chin, mixed with the natural oil of your thick, full coverage foundation. 

You were startled by the sound of someone bursting through the door, and you were about to stay in character and shriek before you noticed it was Tom, who was filling the little space that you already had in the grimey bathroom. You hardly got a word in before Tom wrapped you in his arms, gently.

“Johnny what-”

“No, this is Tom giving you a hug. Not Johnny,” he was speaking in his native, British accent. 

You weren’t sure if this was authentic, so after standing stone-cold still, you returned the hug unenthusiastically. Was this his attempt to woo you?

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he continued, parting from the hug. Your faces were barely inches apart, and you could feel his breath grazing your skin as he looked down at your feet.

“Well,” you swallowed the small amount of saliva remaining in your dry mouth, “I’m okay. I’m Agent Y/L/N, remember?” 

“Catching a grenade is more intense than one would think,” he rubbed one of his eyes, “If you need anything let me know.” 

You watched as he exited, unsure of how to feel. Tom had never seemed like a compassionate person to you, yet here he was making sure you were okay. It was so out of character.

It had to be him trying to get to you. 

Clenching your teeth, you huffed out a sigh and returned to the group, greeted by the familiar smell of marijuana. With a simple smile, you sat back down in your spot next to Tom. You slid a lock of hair back behind your ear, and made eye contact with each of the different men, unapologetically gawking at you.

“You all are making me wish I’d kept the grenade in my hand. Eyes on your cards, gentlemen!” you flashed Tom a wink and watched as his ears turned pink.

Two could play at his game.

Part 2

M A S T E R L I S T 

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[eldritchsurveys]

911.

5k Survey XXXIV

1751. Do you think that it is okay for a homosexual or a woman to become a priest? >> Of course. I’m sure some sects think they’re justified in barring certain kinds of people from being priests, but I think it’s kind of fucked up to deny someone that kind of religious stature based on nothing but some arbitrary fact of birth or design. 1752. Which would you rather give up forever, religion or sex? >> Why can’t you love god in your bed? said Steve Vai and he was fucking right, god dammit. Give me both at the same time. 1753. What comes to mind when you think of these places: Canada? Moose. UK? Those red double-decker buses. I’ve seen way too many pictures of London and not enough of the rest of the UK. USA? The White House. Australia? The movie The Nightingale. Germany? Beer. Italy? The canals in Venice. 1754. What does your favorite bumper sticker say? >> Oh fuck, I’ve forgotten! I saw one a while ago that just slayed me but I’ve forgotten what it said by now. Unfortunate. 1755. Have you ever taken a shower with another person? >> Yes.

1756. What bath toys do you have, if any? >> I don’t have any bath toys. 1757. Would you rather propose to someone you love or would you rather be proposed to by someone you love? >> Does it matter? 1758. How can you reject someone nicely? >> By being tactfully honest about the fact that you’re not interested in what they’re offering.

1759. What kinds of diary names make you interested enough to check out the diary? >> --- 1760. What do you think are three common passwords people use to secure their diaries? >> --- 1761. Pick an object in the room. Give that object a name. >> I’m cheating and picking a plushie. Its name is Marshmellow and it’s a white dog with pink accents. 1762. What is the quickest way to make you blush? >> --- 1763. Do you usually feel that you deserve it when other people compliment you? >> I don’t always feel like I deserve it, but I try to accept it gracefully anyway. It’s a kind gesture to give a compliment and I'd hate to alienate the giver by denying it. 1764. If you were to start your own business what kind of business do you think it might be? >> I don’t want to do that. 1765. What is one of your pet peeves? >> When I’m taking a walk and have to dodge into the fucking street to avoid lawn sprinklers. 1766. What question do you get asked too frequently? >> I used to get asked constantly if my septum ring hurt. Luckily I haven’t heard that question in a while.

1767. You notice a ring is priced $40.00, but the cashier only charges you $10.00. Do you mention this to the cashier? >> Yeah. Back in the day, I wouldn’t have, because an extra $30 in my pocket would have been beyond lucky. But I don’t have to worry about that so much anymore, so I can indulge the luxury of uprightness. 1768. Could a kiss on the ___ be considered cheating? Cheek?  Lips? Nose? Hand? Ear? Neck? 1769. Would it bother you if your lover occasionally flirted with others? >> Of course not. That person’d better flirt back too, she’s a catch.  1770. How long has it been since you last played truth or dare? >> I don’t play that. 1771. Should people who are living now be obligated to do things that will make the world better for people who will live 100 years from now? >> I don’t know. I mean, we’re struggling trying to make the world better for ourselves, let alone hypothetical people who don’t even exist yet. 1772. Imagine you have a dream in which someone you care for acts mean to you. Is it possible you will still be angry with this person when you wake up? >> I know it’s possible for some people because I’ve heard this kind of story before. It’s not possible for me, I don’t think of the people in my dreams as actual avatars of real-life people. Dream folks are just wearing faces they’ve pulled from my memory. 1773. Have you ever left someone a note with a picture in it? If yes, how do you do it? >> Er, no, I don’t think so. 1774. What do you fear more, death or pain? >> Pain, definitely pain. When I think of the various things I fear about death, they all come down to being afraid of some kind of pain (physical, mental, psychic). 1775. Are the questions still interesting this far into the survey? >> Some of them are, like the previous one. And then there are whole sections that have just annoyed me, lol. 1776. Do you like the cartoon Inspector Gadget? >> I’ve never seen it. 1777. You know how Gadget wears the same outfit all the time, and his closet is full of outfits that are exactly identical to the one he wears? If your closet was full of just one outfit that you had to wear everyday what would it be like? >> Sweatpants (or shorts, in summer) and a band t-shirt. And a hoodie, in chilly weather. 1778. Would you rather time travel to the future or the past? >> No. 1779. Would you rather know how the world began or how it will end? >> I think we’ve learned a lot about how the world began, right? Or at the very least, we have sound theories about it. Now, how the universe began... that’s the kind of shit I’m into. 1780. Would you rather meet your ancient ancestors or your great great great great great great grandchildren? >> --- 1781. Out of these 4 which is most important (1=most, 2= second most, 3 = 3rd most, 4 = least)? Curing diseases such as aids, cancer:  Preserving wildlife areas:  Ending terrorism:  Building colonies in space: 1782. In your opinion should every child be entitled to a good education? >> Sure. I mean, why not, right? 1783. What news item are you tired of hearing about? >> The presidential election. 1784. Speaking of 9/11 the anniversary is coming up. What will you be doing? >> Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything to me, I wasn’t there and neither was anyone I know. 1785. If this were a recipe for you, how would it go? >> --- 1786. Which of the following would YOU be more likely to survive: A fall from a 3 story building Driving a car into the water >> A fall from a 3-storey building. I can’t swim, so I’m definitely not surviving the second one. 1787. What philosophy was manifested in the communist manifesto? >> Was it not Communism? Or is that not a philosophy, per se... hmm. 1788. Who is your exact opposite? >> No one is my exact opposite. That just doesn’t make any sense. 1789. Would you rather have serenity or insanity? >> --- 1790. What do these phrases mean? Moulin Rouge:  Le voyage sur le bateau:  Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir: something about would you like to sleep with me tonight, idk. I just remember it from that one song. 1791. What is the longest distance you have ever walked? >> I have no idea. Miles and miles. 1792. The ancient Greek philosopher Plato believes that beauty truth and justice all basically mean the same thing. What are your feelings about this? >> I don’t understand what Plato was trying to say here, I need the context. 1793. How did you first begin to assert yourself as independent from your parents? >> I mean, that... happens in childhood, right? The development of the self as a separate entity from one’s caregivers? 1794. If you had a magic bracelet, would you use it to gain luck, money, health, creativity or love? >> No. 1795. What would you do if every time you used your magic bracelet something bad would happen to someone else? >> I wouldn’t have used the bracelet in the first place, because all shit like that has some kind of equivalent-exchange side effect. I know my magic devices, okay. 1796. This is a story about a girl. While at the funeral of her own mother, she met a guy whom she did not know. She thought this guy was amazing, so much her dream guy she believed him to be that she fell in love with him then and there, although she didn’t even see him after the funeral ended. A few days later, the girl killed her own sister. What is her motive for killing her sister? >> Oh, I’ve heard this one before. It’s some kind of crack “test” to see if you’re a psychopath. The supposed “psychopath answer” is that she was hoping that the guy would appear at her sister’s funeral. 1797. Have you ever intentionally hurt someone’s feelings? >> Sure. 1798. What do you think of Franz Ferdinand? >> As far as the band is concerned, I like that Take Me Out song, but I don’t know any of their others. Alas, I don’t know anything about the Archduke except that he was assassinated, so I can’t say I have an opinion on him. 1799. What do you think of the band Modest Mouse? >> I liked Float On, but I don’t know any of their other songs. 1800. What do you think of Morrissey? >> I like Morrissey. Well, his music, anyway.

[satonthelotuspier]

How Shall We Stop Dreams - Part 4

Part 4 on tumblr of my alternate AU where members of the cultivation world are suffering from unexplained dreams.

The tag below should take you to the other parts if you missed them, enjoy!

Wei Wuxian was further thwarted in his search for Lan Wangji when he encountered Wen Qing on his return to the Nightless City.

She asked if she could talk to he and Jiang Cheng, and Wei Wuxian agreed. The sooner Wen Qing was able to collect and study the information from the cultivators here then all the sooner she might find the reasons and the answers they all needed.

He tried some harmless flirting as they made their way the last short way to their lodgings, which Wen Qing ignored.

Pretty girls normally adored and cooed over him and if he flirted or handed out gifts they were lost.

But nothing about Wen Qing suggested she was just a pretty girl.

She was definitely attractive, no doubt about it, but the set of her features suggested arrogance and self-confidence. There was nothing wrong with either sentiment of course, many people had suggested Wei Wuxian himself suffered for a surfeit of both.

When they entered the room Jiang Cheng didn’t seem to notice them until Wei Wuxian called his name. He jumped a little guiltily, but of course with Wen Qing there Wei Wuxian couldn’t question him.

The first thing Wei Wuxian did was tell Wen Qing what had happened to Jiang Cheng last night; his eye, while much better, was still a little pinkish and he still looked wan and tired.

She exclaimed over him and examined him closely, much to his well hidden annoyance.

“You’re fine, your cultivation has fully healed you, you just need rest, I’d advise you to spend at least the rest of the day, and tomorrow if you can, resting” she informed him.

Then she moved on to her questions, making notes as she asked them about their nightmares. They spoke about the frequency, how realistic they felt, what physical effects they had, like causing Wei Wuxian to vomit last night. Wen Qing asked several other questions.

But she didn’t really seem surprised when they spoke of them occurring at exactly the same time last evening. However, she did made note of it and then excused herself.

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng shared a look in the now otherwise empty room, “Was that as strange as I thought it was?” Wei Wuxian asked quietly.

“That she never once acted like simultaneous nightmares were odd enough to comment upon?” Jiang Cheng asked, “inexplicable” he agreed, “I wonder if she will when she finds out it was more than just you and I?”

“Oh? Did you talk to some of the others?”

“I spoke with Zewu-jun, both of the Two Jades also dreamed last night. He seemed quite  exhausted this morning; he looked worse than I did”

“One of the Two Jades looking less than perfect?” Wei Wuxian mocked, his annoyance at Hanguang-jun sharpening his tone.

Jiang Cheng gave him an assessing look but didn’t comment.

***

The next day dawned sunny and warm; despite Jiang Cheng’s best protests Wei Wuxian bullied him into staying close to their accommodations. With some help. Jiang Cheng had followed him outside of their rooms to get some fresh air.

“Wen Qing said you should rest today too”

“She said if possible” he argued.

“And it is possible, it’s not necessary for you to go today; we’re just going to be messing around clearing out some demon nests in the forest” Wei Wuxian argued.

“What if you get into trouble? And I’m not there?” he protested, “You’re so careless” Wei Wuxian allowed him, as ever, to hide his concern behind snide comments.

“I’ll be fine, Mian Mian will be there too, she’s a strong cultivator”

“I will be there, also” neither of them had noticed the arrival of the Two Jades., the comment was made by Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian felt his hackles rise.

“Zewu-jun, Hanguang-jun” Jiang Cheng greeted as they exchanged bows.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t recall inviting you for a moment” Wei Wuxian channelled his inner Jiang Cheng and tried some passive aggression.

Obviously he wasn’t going to gain a rise out of the icy Jade of Lan, with his cool, expressionless facade. It made the whole process so much less satisfying.

“No need to apologise” Lan Wangji said and Wei Wuxian swore he heard Jiang Cheng smother a snort of laughter behind him.

“I hope Wangji accompanying Wei-gongzi sets your mind at rest, Jiang Wanyin, and I hope I can convince you to keep me company today, as Wangji also wishes for me to stay close to home due to my illness yesterday”

If Wei Wuxian hadn’t been watching that impassive face he genuinely would have missed the lightning fast blink which proclaimed Lan Wangji’s surprise at the news he wanted his brother to be inactive today.

Wei Wuxian only held in the breath he wanted to blow out in aggravation. Was every single person here manipulating this conversation for their own purpose? And what purpose did Lan Xichen have for lying in order to spend the day with Jiang Cheng?

He turned to his brother who looked down at the ground determinedly, but he couldn’t hide the slight flush that stained his cheekbones.

Really? Were the Lan Clan evil seducers disguised as respectable cultivators?

“I think Jiang Cheng could come if Hanguang-jun will be there, he will be able to take it very easy with Maiden Luo and Lan er-gongzi there to protect the group” he said, hoping to extricate his brother. Seeing as Lan Wangji had invited himself he might as well make use him.

“I’ll stay. You’re right, Wen Qing said I should be sensible” Wei Wuxian had to tamp down the urge to grab him and drag him along. Jiang Cheng was an adult after all. And Wei Wuxian had wanted him to stay close to the lodgings initially, so he didn’t have a reason to insist.

Lan Xichen smiled delightedly at Jiang Cheng’s response, which only served to improve on an already perfect face.

Would the cold Hanguang-jun look like that if the unthinkable happened and he actually smiled?

Wei Wuxian tried to picture it, and even though they were virtually mirror images of each other, it was impossible to think of the Second Jade wearing that kind of smile.

Lan Wangji caught hold of his elbow and pulled him away at that point.

“We should meet your companions” he indicated where a few of their group had started to arrive at the appointed meeting place.

***

Lan Wangji had never expected to be bitter at his own brother, but when Wei Wuxian had paused and watched his face carefully as Lan Xichen had smiled he had felt the uncomfortable curl of jealousy in his chest and his first instinct had been to drag Wei Wuxian away.

It went against Lan Wangji’s personality to be so proactive in his pursuit of Wei Wuxian, but living the life of that other him in his dreams, losing his soulmate, mourning his death for thirteen agonising, empty years gave him ample encouragement to not make the same mistakes. That other life wasn’t his life, but it served as a warning of what could happen, if circumstances were different.

He had known for many years this man, this Wei Wuxian, this burning flame, would eventually come into his life. He’d dreamed of the name over and over since his teenage years, eventually coming to understand this was the man he was destined to love with everything he was. And whilst some elements of the other’s personality had been a surprise to him upon first meeting it changed nothing. He had known of his arrogance, his self-confidence and his determination, but he hadn’t known he was a flirt, frivolous and irreverent. So there were adjustments that had to be made to his thinking.

He stood back a little as Wei Wuxian spoke to their group, introducing the young Wen Ning to the others. Luo Qingyang and Mo Xuanyu were there, and so were several other young disciples from other sects. They all knew Lan Wangji by reputation if not by sight, and their greetings were over formal and nervous. He wasn’t going to be a popular addition to the group.

Still, he was there on the hunt for Wei Wuxian and no other reason. He wasn’t here today to win hearts. Well, just one heart.

He fell into step besides Wei Wuxian as they set off, and the other threw him an assessing look.

“I’d love to know what game you’re playing” Wei Wuxian said to him quietly after a short while of silence.

“No game, Wei Ying”

“Then what are you hoping to achieve? What was the reason for kissing me yesterday?”

“Can it not be because I wanted to?”

That silenced Wei Wuxian. For a whole minute.

“Do you...like me, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn” people rarely had a choice on who they became emotionally attached to romantically; his circumstances were no different, even if the reason was a little more complicated that a normal crush.

Wei Wuxian was silent again.

“So why did you always act like you were annoyed with me?” he asked eventually.

“Are the two mutually exclusive?” he realised that silence may have been a better tactic than honesty on that subject when anger flashed through Wei Wuxian’s eyes.

“No, I don’t suppose they are, Lan Zhan, lucky for me that I have no softer feelings such as like to get in the way of my annoyance at you” and he flounced off.

Lan Wangji would be the first to admit he wasn’t very good at expressing his feelings verbally, but that had been a trap even he should have been able to avoid easily.

He was angry at himself. Just because he knew Wei Wuxian was his fate, his future, didn’t mean the other would automatically feel that way. It was something the Lan Clan didn’t have much research on, was the object of a spirit-match as fated to fall in love with their match as vice versa, or if Lan Wangji made himself unlovable would he be left without his match as punishment?

As the spirit-match was secondary to the Purpose the Lan Clan didn’t think it as necessary to spend the resources on the same amount of research.

And it put Lan Wangji at war with himself; he wanted to push hard and secure Wei Wuxian’s regard as soon as possible, but if he did push too hard he had a feeling Wei Wuxian might pull the other way just out of principle.

For a man who had always had his future very clearly mapped out the indecision was difficult to bear.

***

Wei Wuxian’s bad mood didn’t last very long; his personality wasn’t suited to brooding and he soon rallied.

He began to cheer himself up with some harmless flirting with Mian Mian, which Lan Wangji soon put a stop to by inserting himself between them.

Wei Wuxian hadn’t given much consideration to how watching him flirt with someone else might be wounding to the other. He did contemplate continuing around Lan Wangji deliberately to hurt him, but he also wasn’t inclined to petty cruelty and so he gave the whole idea up. The fun to be had in meaningless coquetry was dampened rather significantly if you knew it was going to cause another person pain.

He fell into step besides Wen Ning, who seemed to be shy and nervous and hadn’t really mixed well with the others so far. The topic of conversation around them was mostly the nightmares, there had been many cultivators who had experienced the synchronised dreams either the night before or two nights ago, the latter had been the same time as Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji.

He would speak to Jiang Cheng when they returned, it was completely beyond the possibility of coincidence that groups of wholly unconnected people would experience this kind of phenomenon.

Wei Wuxian felt they should do a little digging. He, like Jiang Cheng, was starting to suspect the Wen Clan had ulterior motives for their seeming interest in the dreams.

He tried to subtly question Wen Ning but the other seemed to genuinely be just another cultivator suffering from nightmares. He did discover Wen Ning was Wen Qing’s younger brother; they had very dissimilar personalities and it wasn’t immediately obvious. There was something of a similarity in the delicateness of their features, but those features appeared different enough on the confident face of Wen Qing that someone wouldn’t automatically make the familial connection unless they were stood side by side.

***

The morning and early afternoon passed quickly and they cleared out a number of demon nests.

Everything seemed to have gone well, even Mo Xuanyu involved himself more than he normally would. Wei Wuxian hoped the letter they had sent back to Lotus Pier would receive a positive response. Mo Xuanyu would be a competent cultivator given the right surroundings.

He was considering this distractedly as they rested briefly, taking drinks, before they planned to make their way back to the Nightless City when the sudden onslaught of spider-demons caught them all by surprise.

Suibian was soon in Wei Wuxian’s hand, and the snick of swords being drawn around him filled the clearing.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were by far the strongest cultivators in the group, but many of the others were gifted cultivators in their own right, even so they began to feel the strain of holding out against the sheer numbers that the spider demons swarmed them with.

“Do not be bitten” Lan Wangji advised them sternly as they fought on, cutting down swathe after swathe, blood thick in the air. Lan Wangji sent Bichen out to impale several demons who had approached Wei Wuxian from behind, “Fight back to back with someone” he commanded and fell into formation with Wei Wuxian; the other cultivators automatically moved to follow his example.

It was soon very obvious it was likely only a matter of how long they could hold out under such an onslaught.

Wei Wuxian heard a shout from across the clearing and turned to see Mo Xuanyu be backed against a tree by several advancing spiders.

There was no way any of them would be fast enough to reach him; Wei Wuxian was just about to send Suibian across to at least thin the numbers in the hope Mo Xuanyu might be able to run when Wen Ning appeared before the spiders. He cut them down and stood protectively in front of the younger man, his teeth clenched and his normally limpid eyes blazing.

Had Wei Wuxian imagined Wen Ning had been much too far away to get to Mo Xuanyu’s side? He didn’t think so, but what other explanation could there be?

And even more inexplicable was that the spider demon’s numbers suddenly starting to thin, before the remaining were in active retreat.

He was about to say something but he felt Lan Wangji catch his wrist from behind, “Wei Ying, say nothing to the others” he said softly before letting him go.

“But-”

“We’ll discuss it later. Trust me”

He didn’t see why anything shouldn’t be said in front of the others, they’d seen it all for themselves after all, but he followed Lan Wangji’s request because the other man had sounded so serious about the issue.

He spent the next little while checking everyone for injuries, all of which were luckily minor, and listening to the various theories of why the spiders had gone into retreat. It was agreed by consensus that they must have cut down enough to make the remaining demons fear for their lives, and honestly the clearing did reflect the bloodbath that had occurred.

Wei Wuxian thought it was highly unlikely, but he let it lie as Lan Wangji had asked. For now.

***

Wen Qing presented herself to Wen Ruohan later that evening.

“Sect Leader Wen” she cupped her hands and bowed.

“How did our first subject react?” he asked eagerly from his chair.

“Badly, Sect Leader, luckily she remembers nothing. She is completely unsuitable. I will send her back to her Sect tomorrow and we will try again” although Wen Qing’s face was calm and expressionless there was a note of worry in her voice.

Wen Ruohan thought he read that note, “We have plenty of chances, Wen Qing, ensure we try again tomorrow, I am eager for results” he rose and walked to the door with her, stepping out into evening air. “Walk with me and give me more details”

“Yes, Sect Leader Wen”

[hamliet]

MDZS meets MBTI

The Myers-Briggs Personality type is older than the Enneagram, and consists of sixteen types based on four different pairs of personality traits: Introversion vs. Extroversion; Sensing vs. Intuition, Feeling vs. Thinking, and Perceiving vs. Judging. To be clear, none of these categories are black and white–for example, all Feelers are capable of using logic, and Thinkers have feelings and care about people–but it’s a cool way of understanding personalities.

I’m not going to do every character, but simply the characters I think are most important and the ones for whom I have the most information to analyze (some is def guesswork). :P Also, this is just my opinion and definitely open to debate! MBTI isn’t a science; it’s just something I do for fun. 

Wei WuXian-->ENFP “The Campaigner” 

Unlike many of the others, Wei WuXian’s type seems very, very obvious. He might be the most ENFP to ever ENFP. 

The ENFP personality is a true free spirit. They are often the life of the party, but unlike Explorers, they are less interested in the sheer excitement and pleasure of the moment than they are in enjoying the social and emotional connections they make with others. Charming, independent, energetic and compassionate... if they’ve found a cause that sparks their imagination, ENFPs will bring an energy that oftentimes thrusts them into the spotlight, held up by their peers as a leader and a guru – but this isn’t always where independence-loving ENFPs want to be. 

Lan WangJi-->ISTJ “The Logistician”

Why yes, Lan WangJi is the exact opposite of his beloved Wei WuXian. He’s another one that seems pretty obvious to me. 

ISTJ personalities are no-nonsense... ISTJs have little tolerance for indecisiveness, but lose patience even more quickly if their chosen course is challenged with impractical theories, especially if they ignore key details...

ISTJ personalities adhere to established rules and guidelines regardless of cost, reporting their own mistakes and telling the truth even when the consequences for doing so could be disastrous. To ISTJs, honesty is far more important than emotional considerations, and their blunt approach leaves others with the false impression that ISTJs are cold, or even robotic. People with this type may struggle to express emotion or affection outwardly, but the suggestion that they don’t feel, or worse have no personality at all, is deeply hurtful.

Jiang Cheng-->ISTJ “The Logistician” 

Yes, the same type as Lan WangJi, just a tad more bitter. Personality tests, even if two people seem to fit a type extremely well, can’t define someone, because people are just so infinitely more complex. The part about being taken advantage of reminds me here of how Jin GuangYao points out that people took advantage of Jiang Cheng’s need to prove himself to drive a wedge between him and Wei WuXian. 

ISTJs’ dedication is an excellent quality, allowing them to accomplish much, but it is also a core weakness that less scrupulous individuals take advantage of. ISTJs seek stability and security, considering it their duty to maintain a smooth operation, and they may find that their coworkers and significant others shift their responsibilities onto them, knowing that they will always take up the slack. ISTJs tend to keep their opinions to themselves and let the facts do the talking, but it can be a long time before observable evidence tells the whole story.

Lan XiChen-->ENFJ “The Protagonist” 

Sadly, this description is pretty accurate to Lan XiChen’s strengths and also his flaws--in particular in terms of his relationship with Jin GuangYao. 

ENFJs radiate authenticity, concern and altruism, unafraid to stand up and speak when they feel something needs to be said. They find it natural and easy to communicate with others, especially in person, and their Intuitive (N) trait helps people with the ENFJ personality type to reach every mind, be it through facts and logic or raw emotion. ENFJs easily see people’s motivations and seemingly disconnected events, and are able to bring these ideas together and communicate them as a common goal with an eloquence that is nothing short of mesmerizing.

The interest ENFJs have in others is genuine, almost to a fault – when they believe in someone, they can become too involved in the other person’s problems, place too much trust in them.

Jin GuangYao-->ESFJ (?) “The Consul”

This one I’m less certain of--FJ seems certain to me, but I/E and N/S is a bit debatable. I think he best meets the description of “the Consul” though. 

ESFJs are more concerned with fashion and their appearance, their social status and the standings of other people... ESFJs love to be of service, enjoying any role that allows them to participate in a meaningful way, so long as they know that they are valued and appreciated. Coming to terms with their sensitivity is ESFJs’ biggest challenge – people are going to disagree and they’re going to criticize, and while it hurts, it’s just a part of life. 

Nie MingJue-->ESTJ “The Executive” 

Less certain of E or I than for the other three, but the way he failed to overcome the challenge of how not everyone processes the same way seems very ESTJ to me. 

ESTJs are representatives of tradition and order, utilizing their understanding of what is right, wrong and socially acceptable to bring families and communities together. Embracing the values of honesty, dedication and dignity, people with the ESTJ personality type are valued for their clear advice and guidance, and they happily lead the way on difficult paths. 

ESTJs are aware of their surroundings and live in a world of clear, verifiable facts – the surety of their knowledge means that even against heavy resistance, they stick to their principles and push an unclouded vision of what is and is not acceptable... they expect their reliability and work ethic to be reciprocated – people with this personality type meet their promises, and if partners or subordinates jeopardize them through incompetence or laziness, or worse still, dishonesty, they do not hesitate to show their wrath... 

The main challenge for ESTJs is to recognize that not everyone follows the same path or contributes in the same way.

Nie HuaiSang-->ISFP “The Adventurer” 

Interesting name for a timid HuaiSang, but I really do think he is an ISFP. He is notably one of the few Nie Sect leaders who doesn’t seem at risk of dying from a qi deviation, and hence his less brutish way of ruling might actually, in the long run, be good for his sect. (NMJ would be proud... maybe.) 

ISFP personality types are true artists, but not necessarily in the typical sense where they’re out painting happy little trees. Often enough though, they are perfectly capable of this. Rather, it’s that they use aesthetics, design and even their choices and actions to push the limits of social convention...

If these goals and principles are noble, ISFPs can act with amazing charity and selflessness – but it can also happen that people with the ISFP personality type establish a more self-centered identity, acting with selfishness, manipulation and egoism. 

Wen Qing-->ENTJ “The Commander” 

Another one I feel fairly confident in. Wen Qing is a boss queen who gives birth to one of the series’ most iconic lines: “thank you, and I’m sorry.” She’s able to win the respect of Wen RouHan and even some people who hate the Wens, and thinks outside the box, theorizing on core transfer but hesitant to actually try it when she isn’t fully confident. 

ENTJs are natural-born leaders. People with this personality type embody the gifts of charisma and confidence, and project authority in a way that draws crowds together behind a common goal. But unlike their Feeling (F) counterpart, ENTJs are characterized by an often ruthless level of rationality, using their drive, determination and sharp minds to achieve whatever end they’ve set for themselves.

Wen Ning-->INFP “The Mediator”

I was torn between S and N, but I went with INFP because he is more focused on thinking about possibilities--in fact his arc is about learning to be confident in his own possibilities and to explore them.

INFP personalities are true idealists, always looking for the hint of good in even the worst of people and events, searching for ways to make things better. While they may be perceived as calm, reserved, or even shy, INFPs have an inner flame and passion that can truly shine. 

Jin ZiXuan--> ESTP, “The Entrepreneur” 

Does he have enough of a personality for me to really analyze him? Maybe not but I like him a lot. He is motivated by what seems like pride at the beginning, but we later realize he cares deeply about the people around him and genuinely cared for Wei WuXian because his wife did. 

Inspiring, convincing and colorful, they are natural group leaders, pulling everyone along the path less traveled, bringing life and excitement everywhere they go. Putting these qualities to a constructive and rewarding end is Entrepreneurs’ true challenge.

Jiang YanLi-->INFP “The Mediator” 

Shijie was indeed the mediator between her two brothers, and it’s her legacy of love and kindness, of wanting Wei WuXian to live even at the expense of her own life no matter what he’d done, that makes a huge difference.  

Luckily, like the flowers in spring, INFP’s affection, creativity, altruism and idealism will always come back, rewarding them and those they love perhaps not with logic and utility, but with a world view that inspires compassion, kindness and beauty wherever they go.

Jin Ling-->ESTP, “The Entrepreneur” 

Jin Ling is the hardest one to pin down and I’m mad because he’s one of my favorites. He is highly emotional, but I think he’s an ESTP like his dad.

Entrepreneurs keep their conversation energetic, with a good dose of intelligence, but they like to talk about what is – or better yet, to just go out and do it. Entrepreneurs leap before they look, fixing their mistakes as they go, rather than sitting idle, preparing contingencies and escape clauses.

Lan SiZhui-->INFJ “The Advocate” 

My type. 

INFJs indeed share a unique combination of traits: though soft-spoken, they have very strong opinions and will fight tirelessly for an idea they believe in. They are decisive and strong-willed, but will rarely use that energy for personal gain – INFJs will act with creativity, imagination, conviction and sensitivity not to create advantage, but to create balance. 

Lan JingYi-->ESFP “The Entertainer” 

He’s pretty easy to figure out. I constantly wonder how he fares in the Gusu Lan Sect. 

...they love putting on a show for their friends too, chatting with a unique and earthy wit, soaking up attention and making every outing feel a bit like a party. Utterly social, ESFPs enjoy the simplest things, and there’s no greater joy for them than just having fun with a good group of friends.

Xue Yang-->ESTP “The Entrepreneur” 

ESTPs are the likeliest personality type to make a lifestyle of risky behavior. They live in the moment and dive into the action – they are the eye of the storm. People with the ESTP personality type enjoy drama, passion, and pleasure, not for emotional thrills, but because it’s so stimulating to their logical minds. They are forced to make critical decisions based on factual, immediate reality in a process of rapid-fire rational stimulus response.

A-Qing-->ESTP “The Entrepreneur” 

Yes, I think A-Qing is the same type as Xue Yang, which doesn’t surprise me because they are actually extremely blatant foils in the story. It’s funny the description notes how observant ESTPs tend to be, because that’s something A-Qing absolutely is, noticing Xue Yang’s minuscule changes in expression and keeping her from trusting him, and Xue Yang is also incredibly observant of her words to realize she might just not be blind after all. 

With perhaps the most perceptive, unfiltered view of any type, ESTPs have a unique skill in noticing small changes. Whether a shift in facial expression, a new clothing style, or a broken habit, people with this personality type pick up on hidden thoughts and motives where most types would be lucky to pick up anything specific at all. ESTPs use these observations immediately, calling out the change and asking questions, often with little regard for sensitivity. ESTPs should remember that not everyone wants their secrets and decisions broadcast.

Xiao XingChen-->ISFJ “The Defender” 

The following description really reminds me of XXC especially after he hears the story about Xue Yang’s love of candy as a child, and every single day thereafter buys him and A-Qing a candy. 

ISFJs take their responsibilities personally, consistently going above and beyond, doing everything they can to exceed expectations and delight others, at work and at home... Naturally social, an odd quality for Introverts, ISFJs utilize excellent memories not to retain data and trivia, but to remember people, and details about their lives. When it comes to gift-giving, ISFJs have no equal, using their imagination and natural sensitivity to express their generosity in ways that touch the hearts of their recipients

Song Lan-->INTJ “The Architect” 

There’s not as much to go on for Song Lan, but what we do have seems to suggest INTJ to me, particularly in how someone who would spend years looking for a friend would refuse to consider that Xue Yang might have changed at all. 

INTJs are simultaneously the most starry-eyed idealists and the bitterest of cynics, a seemingly impossible conflict. 

Yu ZiYuan-->ESTJ “The Executive” 

Welp. The Purple Spider is definitely an Executive.

ESTJs are representatives of tradition and order, utilizing their understanding of what is right, wrong and socially acceptable to bring families and communities together. Embracing the values of honesty, dedication and dignity, people with the ESTJ personality type are valued for their clear advice and guidance, and they happily lead the way on difficult paths. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2

- Chapter 3 -

It seemed, to Meng Yao’s surprise, that there were in fact people like that; it was only that they were all apparently surnamed Nie and lived hidden away in a fortress deep in Qinghe, probably for the good of society.

Sect Leader Nie – known fondly to one and all as Lao Nie, an informality he encouraged – was at least more thoughtful than his son, insisting on a number of tests before he’d accept the child was his, which as a bit more in line with Meng Yao’s expectations. But even before the doctors had been called to check Meng Shi’s pulse he had already been listening without recrimination to Nie Mingjue’s excited plans about where they would stay and where the child’s room would be, and had only the mildest of criticism regarding his son’s decision to sell all his things to buy a Yunping whore to bring back to Qinghe.

The Nie clan, Meng Yao decided, were weird.

But not in a bad way – when the doctors confirmed that the date of conception was around the right time and that the child would more-likely-than-not have a gift for cultivation that his mother lacked, Lao Nie nodded and permitted Meng Shi to cross his threshold as an official concubine.

Not even a mistress! Official!

Sure, Lao Nie could divorce her if he wanted, but the mere act of marriage gave Meng Shi – and by extension, Meng Yao – security that they’d never had before, the right to many things they’d never had before: a solid foundation in the world for him, a married woman’s hairstyle and a place to be buried for her.

Meng Yao had worried at first that he would be reviled by Nie Mingjue’s mother as a bastard at best - a concubine’s baggage from before the marriage, infringing where he should not be; there were a thousand stories describing exactly what legitimate wives thought about people like that - but it didn’t take long for him to see that there was no other woman in Lao Nie’s life, excluding only his second-in-command who already had a wife of her own.

“Your mother died?” Meng Yao asked Nie Mingjue, his mind already spinning with the possibilities – having Meng Shi get officially named first wife was probably out of the question, since that would start gossip regarding the possibility of disinheriting Nie Mingjue, but if his mother could fill the position even a little, then maybe in the future…

“She’s gone,” Nie Mingjue corrected, and it took a while before Meng Yao understood that Nie Mingjue meant gone as in vanished or missing, not as in dead. According to the gossip, his mother was either a goddess or a rogue cultivator, but either way she hadn’t stayed much longer than a year or two past the time of her marriage to Lao Nie, with Nie Mingjue having been left to more or less raise himself ever since.

No wonder Nie Mingjue was such an open-minded idiot, believing in airy principles rather than rock-solid reality, Meng Yao thought, heart flush with fondness. He’d never had a mother to teach him any tricks.

Not that Meng Yao minded. On the contrary, he appreciated the benefits of that open-mindedness: for the first time in his life he had robes made of sturdy and comfortable material, finer than anything he’d owned before, with proper shoes made to fit him; he had teachers in all the subjects a gentleman should know, as much meat as he could ever want to eat, and even a room of his own, with a proper bed and a lock on the inside. All the things he’d ever envied in others were now suddenly within his grasp.

It was heady stuff.

Meng Yao was happy.

And then he went to his mother’s rooms after the first week to tell her of his adventures and saw her contemplating the crib in the side of the nursing room with a neutral expression that might as well be a frown.

He shivered a little and went to her side. “It won’t be necessary now, will it?” he asked hesitantly.

Meng Yao had never doubted his mother’s cunning before, but...well. It was only that Nie Mingjue was so looking forward to having a brother – Meng Yao was in some ways a brother, too, of course, or at least a shidi, but he was of an age that made him more of a friend so it apparently didn’t count – and had spoken so many times about the fun they’d have with a baby that they’d be able to teach everything they knew that Meng Yao had temporarily forgotten that the baby wasn’t going to get to live.

“I will decide what’s necessary,” she said, and that meant it probably was. Poor baby. “Your job right now is to get yourself a comfortable spot here that you can maintain even if I’m thrown out, you understand me? What you’re doing with Nie-gongzi is good. His father indulges him beyond reason; if you make him love you, he will fight for you to stay no matter what happens.”

Meng Yao secretly thought that, in all honesty, getting Nie Mingjue to love him seemed a bit too easy a job.

He’d already tried to play his mother’s tricks, to make himself seem nice and accommodating, the sort of brother any many would love, but Nie Mingjue had seen him at his most bossy and capricious when he hadn’t known that it would made, and it was a bit late to recover the original impression now. And yet to his surprise it didn’t seem to matter, when Nie Mingjue was puzzled and even concerned by Meng Yao’s gentle and submissive behavior rather than enchanted by it, and when he eventually reverted back to something more natural just to make him stop prying. 

No, it didn’t seem to matter at all. Meng Yao was pretty sure that Nie Mingjue was already ready to die for him if need be.

Maybe not die. He shouldn’t think such things, especially not around his mother – especially not with Madame Nie gone, with Lao Nie’s next heir in Meng Shi’s belly and her eyes speculatively set on his bed.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Meng Yao promised, thinking that his mother’s fear of the abandonment of men was for once a good thing if it meant she hadn’t yet started thinking of how only a single child’s life stood between her sons – including her new son – and all the power and riches of the Nie sect.

He’d never thought to scheme against his mother before.

He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to do it now, but…that poor baby.

Poor Nie Mingjue, too.

So Meng Yao went back to Nie Mingjue, but instead of doing what his mother wanted and earning his love – he had Nie Mingjue’s trust, and that was all he needed – he instead whispered in his ear about how happy old Lao Nie seemed to be with a woman by his side, pointed out his smiles when Meng Shi served him at dinner or asked to rearrange a room with some new decorations she’d found in the market.

“I mean, it makes sense,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice a little doubtful but not too much. “Even if she wasn’t his choice, she’s his responsibility, especially now, and it’s better if they like each other. What’s your point?”

“I’m just saying –”

“Oh, come off it, you never just say anything. You’re my brother! If you’ve got some thoughts, just tell me, and we’ll work on them together.” He laughed at Meng Yao’s shocked expression. “I’m not much of a scholar, but even I know that brothers are better off when they scheme together, rather than in parallel or against each other. What is it you want to do?”

Meng Yao weighed his options and spoke: “After the baby’s born, you and I should take care of it so that my mother and your father can spend more time together.”

“Is it that you’re worried about being cast out if they don’t get along? It won’t happen –”

“No, no,” Meng Yao said quickly, though he was, a little, and anyway it certainly was a good excuse to use. “But wouldn’t it be nice to have more brothers?”

Nie Mingjue was easily convinced, as always. “Maybe even a little sister!”

“But you can’t have new babies if you’re taking care of the old one,” Meng Yao continued, twisting truth a little and counting on the fact that Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to know too much about children or child-bearing. “That’s why we should take care of the baby ourselves.”

“Won’t we be too busy?” Nie Mingjue asked. “We’ll have lessons and classes and training –”

There was, Meng Yao conceded, an awful lot of training to do at the Nie sect.

“– while your mother will be resting and able to spend more time with the baby. And feed it, too, though maybe we should talk to someone about getting a wet-nurse to help her out…maybe a nanny goat as well…”

“A wet-nurse is a great idea,” Meng Yao said encouragingly. The less dependency they had on his mother for things for the baby, the better, and most especially when it came to the baby having enough to eat. One of the other women at the brothel had had a baby die from hunger once, when she stopped producing milk but lacked the money to buy a replacement. “But really, think about it – you said yourself that it’d be nice if we could teach the baby things.”

He pushed it as far as he could, and the heavens obligingly did the rest by giving his mother a difficult last few months – not so difficult that he felt afraid that he’d lose her to the birth, not with all the Nie sect’s expensive doctors fluttering around, but enough to exhaust her, and Nie Mingjue was convinced by the need to lift her burdens where he hadn’t been by more practical arguments.

And so little Nie Huaisang, when he was born, spent his first month of seclusion carefully guarded by his attentive brothers, and was then spirited away to their rooms the second they were able – it wouldn’t save him from the winter, Meng Yao thought with satisfaction, but it might save him from his mother.

His mother – their mother, now, but really still his mother – knew what he was doing and allowed it with an indulgent look, which he’d expected; after all he was her precious A-Yao, child of her youth and dreams, and as long as the mistake wasn’t fatal he was allowed to make one here and there.

And Nie Huaisang was a mistake worth making.

Meng Yao had taken a while to think so – he’d started out less than impressed with the baby, which was little more than a fleshy blob, capable of nothing but crying and emitting noxious bodily fluids, but Nie Mingjue had loved Nie Huaisang on sight, treating caring for him as a different type of training, and he’d been so enthusiastic that Meng Yao had gotten a little carried away by it. And after a while he discovered that Nie Huaisang would only settle down if he was there, if he helped, and that went to his head, leading him to preen like a peacock with pride (though it was good that Nie Huaisang eventually calmed enough to permit Nie Mingjue to assist before Meng Yao collapsed of exhaustion)…

All of a sudden it was real.

Nie Huaisang was his brother.

His real brother, a brother by blood – another child of their mother, small and clever and cunning like him, another who would stand by his side and make her proud, to show the world that they were more than just what she had been.

(He’d say that Nie Huaisang could help him beat anyone who said a bad word about her, but Nie Mingjue was doing a good job of that on his own, pretending all the while that he wasn’t doing it at all. As if he could keep a secret.)

Meng Yao was happy.

But then - 

Then it was winter.

The first little cough came during one of the classes on politics Meng Yao shared with Nie Mingjue, both of them writing their answers with delicate calligraphy – well, delicate and refined for Meng Yao, while Nie Mingjue’s brushstrokes were forceful yet elegant. Nie Mingjue didn’t notice the cough, absently hoisting Nie Huaisang a little higher in his non-writing arm, but Meng Yao was immediately frozen, thinking of what his mother had said.

He probably won’t survive his first winter.

Nie Huaisang was born in the late spring, which meant he was only half a year old when the winter came – some protection, but not much, and he was as weak as Meng Shi had predicted. The Nie sect had doctors aplenty, and Lao Nie spared no expense in getting medicine for his second son, but Meng Yao constantly worried that it wouldn’t be enough.

When Nie Huaisang continued to sicken, those soft little rasping breaths ringing in Meng Yao’s ear, he even started to wonder whether his mother really had done something after all, even though she knew he wanted Nie Huaisang to live, and he hated that he even thought it. And yet, he wondered...

His mother visited her sick son a few times, fewer than Nie Mingjue would like and more than Meng Yao wanted, and she had a good face for concern, full of gentle worry, good enough to fool anyone but her firstborn. Meng Yao overheard her crying once and was puzzled, only to understand when he heard Lao Nie comfort her that she wasn’t to blame, and that she wouldn’t be thrown out even if the child did die.

There were fewer visits after that, the purpose achieved.

(Meng Yao loved his mother, and knew she loved him – child of her heart that he was – but sometimes he thought he could almost hate her, too. It was a thought he’d had before, hidden deep in his heart, but only now that he knew there was more to life than her did he actually allow himself to think it.)

Nie Mingjue didn’t quite understand why she was acting the way she was, and Meng Yao determined in his heart that he never would. He might be younger in years than the boy he’d started (after a great deal of pressure and sad eyes like a lost puppy) to call his da-ge, but he was older in spirit. Perhaps if he were older, if he’d suffered more, he would resent Nie Mingjue’s carefree nature and the heart he wore on his sleeve, so easy to hurt and speaking of a lifetime of having not been hurt, but he was still young and all his dreams had come true – it was easy enough to shrug off the innocence and earnestness that, if he’d ever had it, he had lost it long ago.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was the sleepless nights Nie Mingjue spent tending to Nie Huaisang, shoulder-to-shoulder with Meng Yao, persisting even when Meng Yao fell asleep; the way Meng Yao would always find a blanket covering him if he had, the way Nie Mingjue scolded him to eat while forgetting his own meals, the way he hide his tears for the times he thought Meng Yao couldn’t see or hear because he didn’t want to burden him –

“He’ll always be weak,” the doctors said, examining Nie Huaisang’s too-thin too-small frame, shuddering with coughs. “His muscle tone is low, his cultivation base unsteady…”

You might as well give up and try for another, they meant, and Nie Mingjue heard it as clearly as Meng Yao did.

And just as Meng Yao did, he refused to listen.

Where Meng Yao smiled at the doctors and thought of revenge, Nie Mingjue bristled and shouted, cursing them with as wide a vocabulary as he knew – wider, now that he had made Meng Yao’s acquaintance, than it had been before – and chased them away as frauds and liars.

And just as Meng Yao started to lose hope, Nie Huaisang turned a corner and got better.

“I don’t know if I can do that again,” Meng Yao said, staring with tears in his eyes at his little brother’s rising and falling chest, unhindered by any obstruction. “Next winter…”

“Next winter he’ll be older,” Nie Mingjue said, and wrapped an arm around him. “And so will we.”

Perhaps it was that that drove Nie Mingjue to pick up his saber a full two years before he rightfully should have received it, claiming a truly fearsome blade as his own if only he could master her, and after nearly a year of hard work he did. He named her Baxia, and Meng Yao thought of a creature strong enough to carry a mountain on its back – but it was of Nie Mingjue he thought.

(His own saber, he decided, would be named Chiwen, and like him it would draw evil away from others, taking it all on himself and swallowing it into his belly where it could rot him through and through if it meant that those he loved most would remain untainted by it.)

[stella-maria7]

THE UNTAMED FAN FIC: THE TANGLED HEART

Chapter 13: PROTECT AND CHERISH

Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat…

A woman carried a baby who was just a few months old in her arms running into the forest. A group of soldiers in red were chasing after her with no mercy. The sounds of feet stomping the ground were echoing throughout the forest. Though the time had come for the sun to exchange place with the moon, the sky refused to let the moon unleased its power. Though it wasn’t as bright as the day, the sky still vividly illuminating the whole place. It was a special characteristic of this region. So, the woman had no choice but to dash to the forest hoping that the dense forest would be dark enough to help concealing their presence and prayed for something to hide both of them for a short while because her feet were about to give out.

As luck would have it, the woman saw a big, dead tree on the ground. It was hollow inside and the space was big enough. So, the woman crawled inside the tree using its root and held her breath. There were bushes surrounding the entrance, making it invisible to those who didn’t really pay attention.

“Where did they go?” the soldiers came to a stop and one of them shouted out.

“Damn. She was quite fast for a woman. I wished I would have just shot her leg. That would have helped easing things up.” Another solider said.

The tallest soldier smacked the second spoken man and scolded. “Idiot, do you want to die? Master said to bring them both alive and unharmed. You got that? Or do you want your head to fall to the ground before you understand?”

“Sorry.” He rubbed his head at the place where it was hit.

“Now, move your feet. She is just a woman with a child on her. She can’t run very far.” Commanded the tallest guy. The soldiers started moving again.

Although the place was silent, the woman didn’t dare to come out. Even her feet got numbed from squatting down too long, she didn’t care. All she cared about was the baby in her arms.

Time passed by and no one knew for how long. The baby stirred in her arm but didn’t open his tiny eyes. The woman realized she could no longer rely on this hiding place. If her baby were to wake up and cry, the whole forest would be heard and the soldiers would surely find them. She had to move.

Protruding her head just a little bit to survey the surrounding, the woman was relieved to see that it was safe. So she moved out of her hiding place and started running again. This time into the opposite direction.

Knock, knock.

The woman stood in front of a small, isolated yet beautiful house and kept looking back to see if she was being followed. Gladly she saw no one behind. Not even a shadow.

The woman emerging from the house bore a resemblance to the woman standing before the door step. Only younger. “Xiunying jiĕjie” the younger woman was surprised to have a visitor at such late hour. She was even more surprised that it was her own older sister in dishevel.

“A-rong, please, I need your help.” The woman begged.

Xiurong urged her sister to come in and hurried to close the door. Once the deadbolt was securely in place, she turned around to ask. “jiĕjie, what’s going? Why are you-?”

“There is no time A-rong. I can’t explain or you will be dragged into this too. Please. You must promise me one thing.” Xiuying cut her off and took her younger’s sister hand in hers with her free hand.

“If it is within my capabilities, I promise you I’ll do my best.” Xiurong squeezed Xiuying’s hand back as a sigh of assurance.

“Please help taking care of my baby for me. I can’t bring him with me. He will end up in no good if he falls into his father's hand.”

“Your baby?” Xiurong exclaimed in shocked. She hadn’t seen her sister for ages and now her sister was with child. “You're making your son running away from his own father? And who’s the boy’s father jiĕjie?”

“I’m sorry but I really can’t stay long. I don’t want to endanger your family. I really don’t have enough time to explain.” The begging look from her sister’s eyes made her unable to inquire more.

“Jiĕjie, please just tell me one thing. Who’s the father?”

“He is someone who as high as the sun in the sky.” Xiuying looked around the room as if she was afraid the walls have ears before walking closer to her sister and whispered. Xiurong’s face was as pale as snow. “Please Xiurong. Promise me you would take care of him as if he was your own. And no matter what, no one can know about his identity. Especially his father.”

Xiurong nodded her head as she recovered from the shock. Color started to form back on her face. “Jiĕjie, you have my words.”

“Thank you A-rong. I owe you one. I’ll repay you back in my next life.”

Tears started to form in the sisters’ eyes. They knew this was the last time for them to meet each other. Xiuying released her sister’s hand and raised it to caress the sleeping baby’s cheeks. Choking back tears, she placed a soft peck on the boy’s forehead. “You must remember sweetheart... that mother always loves you.”

Xiuying transferred the baby to Xiurong. Without turning back, she opened the door and ran away. Once the door was closed, the baby suddenly jerked awake and started crying. As if he knew he was never going to see his mother again. The cry was like an implore to call his mother back, but it was all in vain. His mother could no longer hear him.

“Ssh ssh. Don’t cry dear, don’t cry.” Though Xiurong tried to console the baby, she herself was crying as well.

“Mother?” a young girl came into the room. Next to her, a boy whose height was just around her waist was clinging onto her arm tightly. “Who is that?”

“Oh, Wen Qing. Come and say hi to your brother.” Xiurong wiped her tears quickly.

“Brother? But how?” the young girl named Wen Qing asked. She didn’t seem to notice that her mother was crying because she was absorbed by the tiny being held next to her mother’s chest.

“Don’t ask Wen Qing. Just know that from now on, you will have another brother to play with. Do you want to hold him?”

Wen Qing took steps forwards. The boy also moved with her. When they reaches the baby, the boy let go of his sister’s arm so the she could hold the baby properly. The wailing stopped once Wen Qing cradled him. “He’s so cute. What’s his name mother?”

After receiving an answer from her mother, Wen Qing rocked the baby gently, her eyes full of affections. “Hello little one. I am your sister Wen Qing and he’s your brother Wen Ning. Welcome to the family, Wen Yuan.”

***

“Sizhui!”

There was a sound of soil and small rocks sliding downhill towards a waterfall. And there was two white figures on the top of the hills: one was having his foot dangling from the edge and another was holding the former’s arm tightly to catch him. Though shouting was forbidden in Cloud Recess, Jingyi couldn’t stop himself when he saw Sizhui was about to fall off the cliff. “Be careful alright?”

Sizhui resumed his standing and thanked Jingyi for saving him in time. He started walking acting as if there nothing happened and expected his best friend to follow. When Jingyi didn’t, Sizhui stopped and turned around. “Jingyi?”

Jingyi kept looking straight at Sizhui which made Sizhui felt unease and looked away. Then, he approached Sizhui and asked. “Sizhui, I notice that you have been acting strange lately. What’s wrong?”

Putting on a smile, Sizhui turned to look at Jingyi and said. “I am totally alright, Jingyi. What else could go wrong?”

Though he knew Sizhui never lie, Jingyi still couldn't accept this answer. Everyone might not notice it, but Jingyi, who had been best friend with Sizhui for more than two decades, could tell at one glance that something was bothering Sizhui. Ever since their return from Lotus Pier, he started acting strange. In terms of studying or Sect’s related-matter, he was still as flawless as usual. But when it came to his own matter, it had been deteriorating sharply. His usual cheerful smiles were less shown on his beautiful face. Most of the time, his eyes were lifeless and his mind became absent-minded. In some occasions, Jingyi had to repeat what he said twice or sometimes thrice before Sizhui was able to finally listen. This had never happened before and it extremely worried Jingyi to the core. What if he came down with a serious illness? Jingyi thought. He was alarmed in an instant. “Sizhui, are you sick? I mean like really, really, really sick and you…you know…don’t want to tell anyone about it?”

Sizhui shook his head, his face was shock. “No, Jingyi. I am fine. I am not sick at all. Look, I was just being careless for a second that I didn’t see the cliff. It was nothing else, okay?”

Phew. Thanks god he wasn’t sick. Jingyi breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was healthy. That was one good thing. However, he couldn’t resist the feeling that Sizhui was hiding something from him. “Sizhui, you are not hiding anything from me, are you?”

Unexpected by this hard question, Sizhui became pale immediately. Why did Jingyi have to understand him so well? He really did have things hiding. From Jingyi and from Jin Ling too. He couldn’t lie, and he didn’t even want to. Still, he wasn’t ready to disclose it yet. He wasn’t brave enough to deal with the consequences. Imagining a day where his two best friends would turn their backs on him when they learnt of his secret was one of his biggest fears. Sizhui lowered his head to stare at Jingyi’s feet and remained silence. How was he to answer?

Jingyi kept track of Sizhui’s every tiny movement, so now, he had confirmed one thing: Sizhui was hiding something. But at the same time, he also noticed that his question had made him uncomfortable. Of course he was dying to know what was it that Sizhui was hiding. However, if his curiosity left his best friend in a tough place, then he'd rather not curious at all. Sizhui’s welfare was his first priority.

A decision was made. Jingyi grabbed Sizhui by both shoulders and brought him to look into his eyes. “Sizhui” he spoke in a gentle tone, treating as if Sizhui was a fragile porcelain that would be shattered if handled not gently. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer my stupid question.” He gave a slight head shake as an assurance to Sizhui before continue. ”Just remember one thing. No matter how dangerous -or complicated or whatever negative words you can name- things are, you will always have me by your side. I will stick with you to the end. I will always be on your side even if the whole world is against you.”

Sizhui was almost moved to tears. Every time since they were little, Jingyi always gave him the utmost care and stood up for him whenever he got bullied. Being just one year older, Jingyi took his role as a big brother seriously. He had never changed. Sizhui started to feel guilty for hiding things from Jingyi. But he just couldn’t say it. Truly, he would tell him one day. Just that it wouldn’t be today. “Thank you so much, Jingyi. I am so glad to have such a good friend as you.”

Jingyi’s expression dropped but it was just in a split second before he plastered a smile on his face to hide it. “Yeah, your good friend... forever and always.” Jingyi felt a twinge of pain when he said those words. Even if he could fake a smile, his eyes couldn’t lie. There were sadness and disappointment in them. However, Sizhui was distracted by his own guilt that he noticed not a single thing.

[warnercreations]

“Ignorance is bliss ‘tis a folly to be wise”

These words by Thomas Grey referred to the inevitable suffering that resulted from “growing up”, he urged youngsters to stay innocent as long as possible.

But this is no Neverland, here we DO enter adulthood.

I love reading, but I am also a huge movie fan, and in my personal collection I own copies of “The Matrix” and “Pleasantville”. If there are any who have not watched both of these movies, then I would urge you to make a plan to do so. I was recently inspired to write a blog entry based on “Pleasantville”, but I’ve made dozens of false starts with this entry, and the words have not flowed… Then I realised something the other day, “Pleasantville” and “The Matrix” actually share a common theme.

Let me start closer to the beginning of this story;

I’ve been sorting out my life, reducing the clutter, organising those things that I choose to keep. I’m sure everyone who lived in the era of film photography has a box of photo prints lying around? Mine has been with me since the last photos I had taken somewhere around 2001, many of them have been water damaged during my homeless times, and others were of memories that up until recently retained enough painfulness for me to shy away from exposing them often.

But things change, and I’ve got to the point where I don’t mourn the loss of those “good times” as much as I enjoy the memories of them, so I started organising them into collages, and as I did I took photo’s of some of them and shared them with friends on social media.

Many people responded with “you looked so happy then”

I immediately got on the defensive!

It was my self analysis regarding WHY this got me on the defensive that led to this train of thought.

“You looked so HAPPY then…” ;

These days we have a camera embedded in a little device we carry with us all the time, not only that but the pictures it takes are of a high quality, instantly available and free! Back in the Jurassic Era I grew up in, cameras were not always on hand, film was expensive and so was processing that film into prints, and to top it all off, one waited a week for the film to be processed after handing it in at the newsagents or pharmacy. So having a photo taken was an occasion! And you only really took the trouble to carry the camera when there was a REASON to. And no, we didn’t take a photo to show how miserable we were! So largely old photo’s were a record of the good times! This accounts for a proportion of the apparent “happiness”…

In my reality MANY of the “occasions I refer to above were the times spent with my now ex-wife as we progressed from dating, to courtship and into marriage. She and I were separated by 1,100km (700miles) for the first 7 years of our relationship, not only that, but the cult religion she and I were born into forbid dating among those “not yet ready for marriage”; so for much of that time we conducted our relationship in secrecy. We would spend a few weeks together every six months during school vacations, and obviously these were wonderful times as we made up for the months of pining and misery in-between, and we took photos during those happy times to remember them and each other. We didn’t take photos when we cried during farewells, nor of the stress and worry inflicted on us by the punishment from the church elders for indiscretions like “holding hands”. So many of these photo’s were of short periods of intense happiness separated by months of misery and despair.

But, eventually we married, and set up home together, we progressed in our respective careers, we accumulated material possessions, and took full advantage of the glamour and entertainment available to a pair of yuppies in Cape Town during the 1990’s. We drove sports cars and motorcycles, we lived with a sea view, we dined at some of the finest restaurants in the world, we frequented the theatre, the Opera House and the music concerts. We hobnobbed with the rich and the famous, the beautiful and the talented. There was little reason NOT to be happy!

Some people pursue that lifestyle their whole lives, they sail through mild seas and keep close to the shore, where life is easier and safer, and more secure. They come home to the boring spouse and hide the secret lover, they live cautiously and retire comfortably. There is nothing WRONG with these choices, except that these individuals generally lack the imagination to empathise with what the “other people” go through.

I speak from experience here, I used to judge others harshly, as compared to my own frame of reference. I knew a girl who had had an abortion while she was a teenager, illegal back in the puritan “Old” South Africa, she lied to her parents and the authorities and claimed to have been raped by “a Black man”, which of course ensured a legal abortion. My then Wife and I were extremely judgemental towards her and her morals. I would publicly attack smokers whose smoke intruded into my space. I would proudly assert that our Christian morals and stance against blood transfusions made us immune to the AIDS epidemic of the time. I judged those who were unfaithful to their spouses as hypocrites and sinners. I believed that only those of my Religious Sect would be saved from imminent destruction! Those who were not able to pay their monthly bills were wasteful and undisciplined.

When my wife admitted to having had an affair, I felt somewhat less invulnerable to STD infection. When I was comforted by that same woman who had had the abortion and ended up in her bed, I felt less self-righteous. When the divorce blew down the house of cards of my debt-based finances, I felt less fiscally disciplined. When I got hooked on tobacco during a drunken party I felt ashamed of how I shouted at those whose smoke drifted my way. When I ended up in a relationship with a separated, but still legally married woman, I felt hypocritical.

Unlike Neo in the Matrix, I never made the conscious choice to swallow the Red Pill, someone must’ve slipped it into my drink while I wasn’t watching!

“Spirituality” is somewhat of a fad at present, people wear it like a religion and they believe that “Spiritual Awakening” occurs wearing Yoga Pants, sitting in the Lotus Position chanting Ohmmmm.

In my case it came disguised as depression and self-destruction.

For Me, “Spiritual Awakening” wasn’t building a temple in the mountains, it was tearing down and setting fire to everything I owned so that something new could be built on the scorched earth left behind.

I found a major flaw in much of the teachings of The Law of Attraction, it is this concentration on consumerism. Much of the focus of many of the teachers is on Material Wealth…

Actually, maybe that is all as it should be, because again, I must correct my line of reasoning, The Law of Attraction is of itself not about spirituality, it may borrow from many of the practices of Spirituality such as Meditation, and entering into elevated states of consciousness, but at the root of it all, it is about manifesting change in our lives, rather than about embracing change in our lives. Do you pick up the difference? MANIFESTING change is about making a choice as to what we choose, EMBRACING change is about adapting to changes in our lives.

We live in a global society that has manufactured a set of standards to which we are expected to conform. This I guess is what we refer to as our “civilisation”. Consumerism is the central ideology of this global civilisation, and it is imposed upon us from the moment of birth, some may argue that it begins even before that.

The best neo-natal care and nutrition creates physically superior bodies

The best educational toys creates superior intellectual abilities

The best dental care creates an attractive smile

The best juvenile nutrition ensures a pattern of healthy eating

The best schooling ensures qualification to attend the best Universities and Colleges

The best Universities and Colleges ensures superior earning potential

The best Looking, best educated and higher earning individuals attract the best Looking, best educated and higher earning spouses.

The best Looking, best educated and higher earning couples have the potential to breed superior offspring…

The unfortunate results of the rutting of the less privileged start life with a disadvantage…

And how do we show that we are successful in this civilization? By what we own, by what we drive, by what we wear, by whom we mate with.

A year ago, I found myself in a very dark place. I was chronologically in the middle of a conflict with a family member, what started out as a simple disagreement over taking sides in a couple’s divorce escalated as neither of us was prepared to back down. Insults were traded until eventually he struck the blow below the belt that knocked me for the count… He asserted that I am a failure in life, and while I intellectually knew that to be rubbish spouted by an ageing narcissist, I saw myself through his eyes and that was very painful for me.

For some time now I believe that I have seen through this whole Zeitgeist, I see how we are manipulated into what to wear, and how to act, who to have sex with and where to live, what to drive and where to drive to. I came to understand how we are manipulated into religious, nationalistic, racial and cultural divisions so that we can be controlled and played like the pawns that we choose to be.

Once you understand these things, then clothes become something to keep us warm and protected, covering our nakedness because the alternative is legally and culturally unacceptable. A vehicle becomes a tool, a means to travel and transport goods from place to place. A cellphone ceases to be a status symbol, but becomes a communications tool and portable computer. A dwelling becomes a shelter. A life partner is chosen on merit rather than the standards of physical beauty created by the fashion industry.

But this person asserted that I was lazy, that my “messing around building furniture” was not an acceptable vocation, that my vehicles and my appearance are a disgrace. More than that he announced these things on public forums from where I conduct business.

Now as I said before, INTELLECTUALLY I understand that all of what this person was accusing me of was based on his own desperate clinging to the illusion he believes to be reality.

“Those still invested in the illusion hate those who have woken up” – Kim Warner

But my own self-esteem was fragile enough to take this to heart, and I did!

Healing was a slow process because as ones self-esteem is damaged so things collapse, and no matter what we may or may not believe about the Law of Attraction, when we feeling bad about ourselves, bad things seem to happen to us.

Self-Love is not vanity, that was something I had to teach myself ever since my mother and her Cult indoctrinated me to the contrary. No, Self-Love is vital, it it taking care of yourself first because when you give everything to someone else and have nothing left for yourself, then no one is there to help you. Self-Love is taking a vacation so that you become recharged. Self-Love is spending the money to go to the Doctor and the Optometrist so that you can function better. Self-Love is building something beautiful for YOURSELF

Self Love is making Collages out of your old photos so that you can remember the happy times.

This brings me back to those two movies, The Matrix was about seeing through the artificial, superficial illusion that we are conditioned into believing to be real. Pleasantville is about two modern teenagers who are transported back into the black and white world of a 1950’s television sitcom. In Pleasantville, everything was “pleasant” the Fire Department’s only task was rescuing cats out of trees, because fire did not exist, sex didn’t exist, art didn’t exist, not as a form of expression anyway, music was “pleasant”, everybody was “pleasant” to each other and even the weather was “pleasant” all the time, it never even rained in “Pleasantville”.

As these two teenagers interacted with these “pleasant” people they caused a chain reaction. The girl, played by Reese Witherspoon was a stereotypically sexually promiscuous cheerleader, and she introduced the “Pleasantville” teenagers to sex, Tobey Maguire, who played the nerdish boy introduced the citizens of “Pleasantville” to such concepts as art appreciation and taught the Fire Department how to extinguish a fire…

As people were influenced, they appeared in full colour, some were ashamed of this and tried to hide their “colour” behind makeup and clothing, others flaunted it. Life became less and less “Pleasant” in “Pleasantville”, adultery, rioting, fires, mob-justice, segregation all became part of life in “Pleasantville”, but the other side-effect was that people grew, that while life was no longer always “pleasant”, it could also reach heights of bliss and valleys of despair.

The hero of “The Matrix” chose to take the Red Pill, and as a result he was ejected from the comfortable illusion and subjected to the harsh life of a resistance fighter. Like me, the residents of “Pleasantville” never got to consciously choose, but each of them grew exponentially as a person.

I reacted SO defensively to “you looked so happy then”, because that was the bliss of ignorance, not the satisfaction of being fully awake in a world of sleepwalkers.

Go Forth and BE AWESOME

All My Love

Kim

Happiness and the Illusion “Ignorance is bliss ‘tis a folly to be wise” These words by Thomas Grey referred to the inevitable suffering that resulted from “growing up”, he urged youngsters to stay innocent as long as possible.

[alexsmitposts]

US Seeks to Become World Political Schemers On an practically daily basis, representatives of the present political élite of Washington and US media voice accusations of Russia, China and some other countries which allegedly try “to interfere” with the internal affairs of the US. At the same time, Washington does not mention that the budget-financed US National Endowment for Democracy (NED) has been officially operating for 35 years already, as well as other organisations of the kind, whose objective is to influence the policy of other countries. One of the NED founders, Allen Weinstein, said: “Much of what we are doing today used to be done in secret by the CIA 25 years ago.” Over the recent decades, against the backdrop of the comprehensive propaganda campaign conducted by Washington within the country and abroad about the alleged “advantages of the American democracy,” the American élites adopted the idea of a certain special role of the US, a sort of American Messianism, of its right to interfere in any matters and countries worldwide with impunity. According to the research of the American Carnegie Mellon University, from the end of World War II to 2000, the US interfered with elections in 45 countries of the world at least 80 times, which does not include the organisation of military coups and color revolutions. The American website AlterNet, found at least 80 cases of local and regional conflicts (since 1953) in which Washington participated. AlterNet also notes that, historically, about a half of all revolutions organized with the US failed, and success was never a sure-fire thing. In the modern history, the majority of instances of US intervention in the politics of other states fell on the Cold War period. Back then, Washington actively sought to strengthen its geopolitical positions on the international scene, regularly trying to secure a pro-American government in this or that country. Since, in the wake of World War II, the list of European players was generally finalized, the states of Asia, Africa and South America became the usual arena of the US activities. At the same time, the political activities of the US Administration often closely intertwined with the US economic interests, a desire to receive control over transport corridors, natural minerals, first of all oil and gas. Washington always sought to disguise its true purposes by the propaganda trends relevant at the time, like prevention of “a spread of communist ideas in Asia and Latin America,” or “Islamic radicalization of the Middle Eastern states.” The containment mechanisms of the UN or international condemnation did not always prove an effective barrier to the attempts of the White House to change the political map of the world. And a considerable number of the countries, in pursuit of “the American benefits” in the form of military, economic or other aid, very quickly oriented their political course following the US lead, becoming de facto silent puppets in the expansionist world game of the US. The actions of Washington are not only tolerated by certain European countries, but also the European Union as a whole, whose political leadership lost independence from the actions of Washington a long time ago. “The agreements and doctrines which are the cornerstone of the EU and the NATO, oblige Europeans to participate in all military enterprises of the US,” the Austrian Contra Magazin reports. Showing utter defiance to the independent policy of other states, representatives of the current US political élite of the USA actively seek to interfere with the internal affairs of many countries of the world. In response to Donald Trump’s tweets about the anti-government protests in France in December 2018, the French Minister of Europe and Foreign Affairs Jean-Yves Le Drian was forced to officially urge the US President not to interfere with the domestic policy of France. It is known that the former president of Ukraine Petro Poroshenko resorted to the help of the US lobbyist organisations more than once, trying to get the favor of Washington. Now it turned out that his successor Volodymyr Zelensky used this experience as well. It became known after the US lobbyist company Signal Group Consulting LLC published a report on the work in favor of the president of Ukraine Volodymyr Zelensky, which was revealed by the Ukrainian office of Voice of America, referring to a number of documents. On a practically regular basis, international media publishes statements about the instances of open intervention, which is unseemly for US Ambassadors, in the affairs of other sovereign states. Thus, in November 2018, Poland saw a political demarche of the US Ambassador in Warsaw Georgette Mosbacher for her criticism of the freedom of media after she sent a letter to the Prime Minister of Poland Mateusz Morawiecki in which she explained what is and what is not appropriate for the ministers of the Polish government to say to the Polish TV channel TVN. In February, the US Ambassador to Moldova Dereck J. Hogan actively participated in the internal political process in the country, which clearly showed attempts to interfere with the pre-election situation in this country. In June, the representative of the Georgian Orthodox Church (GOC), archpriest David Isakadze accused the acting US Ambassador to Georgia Elizabeth Rood of attempts to aggravate the situation in Georgia. Everybody knows about the scandalous activities of the US Ambassador in Berlin Richard Grenell who, as of January this year, began to send threats to the representatives of the German business community because of their actions in cooperation with Russia. In March, he criticized the policy of the German Ministry of Finance. And, on August 1, in his speech, he dared criticize the government of the Chancellor Angela Merkel for their unwillingness to join the naval mission in the Strait of Hormuz. Such behavior, inadmissible for a diplomatic representative and concerning the state institutions and the policy of Germany as though it were not the leading European state, but a vassal territory of the US, was met with indignation in the German political business community. It also forced the Vice Chairman of the Free Democratic Party of Germany (FDP) Wolfgang Kubicki to urge the Foreign Minister Heiko Maas to banish the US Ambassador R. Grenell from the country. The former US Ambassador in Moscow Michael McFaul admitted in the memoirs that the US had wanted a change of the power in Moscow and tried to depose Vladimir Putin. According to Der Spiegel, Americans trained activists of the liberal opposition and paid millions to the civil organisations which, in McFaul’s own words, could not be politically neutral. Today, Washington continues to use the same methods seeking to influence the domestic policy of Russia by publishing on the Twitter webpage of the US Department of State Bureau of Consular Affairs on August 2 detailed information on the places, meeting time and route of an unauthorized rally in Moscow. The head of the Russian MFA Department for Information Issues Ilya Timokhov directly specified the other day that such call relaying was the most relevant and scandalous example of the US Department of State’s intervention in the internal affairs of Russia: “… it is nothing other than propaganda of the rally organizers since it keeps the Russian language text with an appeal to rally.” Here, only a small number of examples of outright intervention of the US authorities and institutions in the internal affairs of Russia and other states were given. Certainly, one could give a great many examples of the sort, as well as the informal tools used by Washington in order to influence other states in a way that would be favorable for the US by imposing American style democracy on other countries. In particular, such tools include not only the US intelligence agencies, which are aimed specifically at these objectives, but also numerous western non-profit organisations and religious sects. You will learn more about those in the future materials of the NEO.