#thank you for the gift of the fool and jin guangyao

[thatswhatsushesaid]

the fool 🤝 jin guangyao being easily the most dynamic and compelling characters in their respective canons, likely for reasons that were substantially if not entirely unintentional on the part of their respective authors

[offaeandcreation]

To Live Without Regrets

Summary: 

“If you regret killing me…” 

 Jin Guangyao could almost see Wen Ruohan leaning over him, his hair pouring down his shoulders like an ebony waterfall, a wide grin full of teeth, and scarlet eyes twinkling in false crinkles. 

The invisible grip tightened on his neck. 

“I’ll make you regret betraying me.” 

Five times Jin Guangyao refused to regret his choices and the one time he did.

Pairing: Wen Ruohan/Meng Yao | Jin Guangyao

WC: 4,100

Warnings: Gore, Mild Horror, Physical Abuse shown/mentioned/implied, Non-con on screen but not too detailed, Bullying, Dysfunctional Relationships, Daddy issues (non-sexual), Sexual Content Implied, 

AO3

1. 

Meng Yao saluted at his father’s feet. 

The way his mother taught him, correcting his posture by tapping his back or knees with the gentleness of a butterfly, whispering to relax here, bend more, bow his head, and look at the floor.

 He stared at his father’s dark boots, shiny leather with gold peony embroidery that glinted in the sun. The type that by stepping into too wet dirt would ruin them for good. An interesting choice considering they were at war.

“He’s too much a coward to walk on anything not laid in silk or gold.” A familiar voice sneered into his ear, “Did he even step into the battlefield?”

Meng Yao’s gaze flickered to the corpse laying beside him. Dirk caked silk white robes and the bloody stump where the head used to be no longer glistened with fresh blood. 

“I have brought Clan Leader Wen to you, Fu- ��Meng Yao’s breath caught in his throat, “-Clan Leader Jin.” 

He received no response, and the rains did not grace the patch of dirt he stuck his nose into with any puddles to see his father’s reflection. 

“Where’s the head?” Jin Guangshan finally asked, “I recall asking specifically for it.” 

Only years of practice kept Meng Yao from brushing the Qiankun pouch attached to his hip, “… Lost in the chaos. My greatest apologies.” 

Wen Ruohan burst into laughter, “If he doesn’t accept you, will you suddenly find my head?”

Meng Yao’s lips thinned. The pouch tugged at his belt, as if someone suddenly dumped a case full of logs into it. The silence stretched for several beats.

“It’ll do.” Blessedly, Jin Guangshan said, “Stand up, Jin Guangyao.”

Meng Yao stared at the dirt caking his dull boots. Did he hear that right?

Jin Guangyao?  

Jin.

Jin Guangyao lifted his head. His father towered above him wearing gold silks and peonies, with only the vermillion mark between his brows glinting like a jewel. He flicked open his expensive fan, dripping in gold paint and priceless landscapes, and hid his unsmiling lips. 

Finally.

 Finally he could go to his mother’s grave and share the good news. Even with his cultivation lagging behind, even amid a deadly cultivators’ war, only with the gifts of wits and character his mother had granted him made her dream finally come true. 

For the first time in his life, Jin Guangyao’s eyes watered along as a genuine smile tugged at his lips. He gave into it with a salute, “This lowly son thanks Fuqin for his acknowledgement.” 

Jin Guangshan flinched.

“You’re dismissed.” He said as he waved his free hand in a half-hearted dismissal. And turned his back to him, “Someone, get rid of the corpse.”

“Was that really what you wanted all this time?” Wen Ruohan’s voice whispered. 

Jin Guangyao’s eyes glanced to the side, half expecting to see the former Clan Leader Wen standing beside him. Only to be greeted by the Jin disciples crowding around Wen Ruohan’s headless body, some sending the occasional glare at him while others muttered to themselves about burning the body, that he won’t be reincarnating anyway without his head. 

“Nothing I ever did could have replaced your desire to be acknowledged?”

Jin Guangyao bowed his head slightly to hide the movement of his lips, “It was my mother’s dream.” 

Wen Ruohan cackled, his ringing in both of Jin Guangyao’s ears even when he turned his head, “You really fooled me then into thinking I meant something to you. Why bother with the pretense now?”

 The Qiankun pouch pulsed with barely concealed resentment. 

Jin Guangyao clapped the pouch, “Stop throwing a tantrum.” 

Ice surrounded Jin Guangyao’s throat, like a pair of cold, clawed hands around like a scarf. He could barely swallow…

“Let’s make a wager.” Wen Ruohan crooned, “If you regret killing me…” 

 It was too easy to imagine Wen Ruohan leaning over him, his hair pouring down his shoulders like an ebony waterfall, scarlet eyes twinkling in false crinkles, and a wide grin full of pearl-white teeth. 

The invisible grip tightened on his neck. 

“I’ll make you regret betraying me.” 

 _____________________

2. 

Jin Guangyao barely suppressed a hiss as he sewed the gash on his forehead closed. Dark blood oozed in droplets, streaming down his face and occasionally into his right eye. Violet bruises bloomed around the gash. Did Madame Jin really need to throw an iron teapot at him? 

“If you haven’t used up all your spiritual energy to stay up in the past fortnight, you would have enough to prevent those ugly bruises.” 

Jin Guangyao’s gaze flickered to the far side of his bronze mirror. A soft outline of Wen Ruohan’s head bobbled where his unused pillow on his bed was. The rest of his body would never appear, probably because Jin Guangyao only kept his head. 

“You made a promise not to play with my vision.” Jin Guangyao snarled, wiping away the wayward blood that once again seemed utterly determined to blind him in one eye. 

“Oho~ Did you just snap at me?” Wen Ruohan taunted. The faint outline shimmered and grew as if he moved from a lying to a sitting position. If he had his body, that was, “You must be exhausted.” 

Jin Guangyao ignored him. Having finished the last of the stitching, he considered his makeup kit. Makeup could risk infecting the wound, and the benefits didn’t seem to outweigh the negatives. Even applying several layers only hid the worst of the purple underneath his eyes. 

Would his cap be enough? Or the way it sat on his head also aggravate the wound? 

The bronze mirror reflected the hazy outline of Wen Ruohan’s head, appearing just several cun away from Jin Guangyao’s ear. His hands, if he had any, would sit on his shoulders, pale fingers settled like butterflies. 

“When was the last time you walked around so exhausted you could fall over? When was the last time you walked without malice-born bruises?” 

The answer danced on Jin Guangyao’s tongue. Like sweet Tanghulu given to a starving child.

The body-less head smiled at him in the mirror, “Was this all worth it?”

“Madame Jin is mourning.” Jin Guangyao interrupted. “She lost her son, and she is lashing out.” 

The outlines around Wen Ruohan’s mouth pinched. A full-lipped pout that only a toddler could compete with, “By such logic, aren’t you implying he was dead since you entered Jinlin Tai? Wouldn’t his death mean she will throw heavier objects at you? By the end of the year, people would mistake you for a man-shaped bruise.”

Jin Guangyao closes the mirror with a loud clunk, “Fuqin wishes to have Xue Yang experiment with your body. See it turn into a fierce corpse.” 

Wen Ruohan went quiet. 

“You were once a powerful cultivator. It would be a shame to let that go to waste,” He continues as if reciting a textbook. “The resentment you must have from being backstabbed should be enough to compete with Wen Qionglin.” 

The candle on his desk flickered as resentment poured from the ghost. It flicked some of Jin Guangyao’s loose hair, but the piles of papers on his desk remained undisturbed. 

If Wen Ruohan had his material body, he would be growling. 

“I talked him out of it,” Jin Guangyao said, replacing the medical kit into its proper place, “Your head is missing and Xue Yang’s pins work through the temples, for now.” 

“Is that a threat?” Wen Ruohan hisses. 

Jin Guangyao gave a one-sided shrug. Dropping the conversation. He reached for the towering pile of paperwork sitting since dawn- no, now several piles. Someone had divided up the pile, if haphazardly, into several. 

A ghost of a smile flickered on Jin Guangyao’s lips, “You managed not to knock them off the desk this time.”

“See if I do you such a favor again.” 

He snorted, “Then don’t come to me complaining about being bored.” 

Wen Ruohan huffed and floated back towards the bed. 

 If Wen Ruohan was in his living body, he’d carry his chin up high with the most over-the-top grouch that only a spoiled mistress could make. 

Many times, Jin Guangyao made the mistake of turning his head to look for something that wasn’t there. 

Such a shame fierce corpses couldn’t smile. 

“You know, it suddenly occurred to me… do you watch over that brat because you miss the Fire Palace so-” 

“Enough or I will change my mind about Wen Qionglin.” 

______________________

3. 

“Son of a whore!” 

Jin Guangyao’s hands tremble beneath his weight. A weight he could barely feel. It was as if Nie Mingjue had indeed unleashed Baxia and carved out all his innards, leaving nothing but a gaping emptiness with only the barest layer of his skin left. 

“Jin Guangyao!” 

Colors flood around him. A flash of a blade. Whisks of white. 

“Guangyao!” 

Sudden darkness, copper in his mouth.

“A-Yao!” 

Jin Guangyao flinched at Wen Ruohan’s voice. The warm glow of torches outlined the empty sitting room. He stumbled forward, falling to his knees. The gold pillow sank underneath his weight, not enough to cushion the dull vibrating pain that clawed up and down his legs. 

“A-Yao.” Wen Ruohan’s voice said. Quiet. Soft. 

Jin Guangyao felt his mouth move, words that used to come easily, like blinking. 

He kicked him down the stairs. 

He called him a son of a whore. 

He tried to kill him.

Again.

“A-Yao. Breathe.” 

Air flooded down his throat. Jin Guangyao gasped and choked. Bile licked the back of his throat. 

“A-Yao. No one is here. That ungrateful brat can’t hurt you because he isn’t here.” 

Soft outlines materialized in the air in front of him. Like wisps of light blue smoke. This time, instead of the smoke-like patches, Wen Ruohan fully formed his features. A solemn expression painted with the finesse of an artist. 

Jin Guangyao’s shoulders sank, and he collapsed against the table. His breath came out sharp and ragged.

“Like them,” He wheezed, “he was like them all along.” 

Wen Ruohan watched him, his mouth too unstable to make out its position, expression twitching between curiosity, concern, and even a flash of vindication, “Oho, what do you mean?” 

Laughter bubbled out of Jin Guangyao. It came out soundless, but he still doubled over, unable to take a breath, “Won’t you just ask the question, Ruohan? Ask if I regret it all? Regret killing you to save him?” 

He expected a smile to bloom on Wen Ruohan’s face. Now was the opportune time to ask about the wager. And maybe Jin Guangyao would say- 

“No.” The words formed on his lips with ease. Along with the placid smile he long learned to wear. 

Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes, “And you went and answered it yourself. Why bother asking?”

“Nie Mingjue acted kindly towards me once before. Defended my mother by shutting down the insults.” 

When they called him a bastard. A son of a whore. 

“And then he went and did it himself,” Wen Ruohan bared his teeth, “you did so much for him and he repays you like this? Ungrateful little brat. Hooting his own faux morality until he is no less than a rabid dog that needs to be put down.” 

Jin Guangyao bowed his head. The table he leaned on rattled. 

Wen Ruohan hovered by him. 

He didn’t ask him why he didn’t regret it.  

-

Weeks later, Wen Ruohan kept a lookout as Jin Guangyao snuck into the secret underground library at the Cloud Recesses. 

“Are you going through with this?” Wen Ruohan asked him once Jin Guangyao burned the sheet music in the fireplace. 

Jin Guangyao looked up from the flames. His face was lax of all emotion. Only the staccato of his heartbeat in his ribcage hinted at the swirl of unease he hid deep in his chest, “I was under the impression this would entertain you.” 

“Try again.” 

Jin Guangyao breathed in, then out. His fingers threaded through his hair. A tick that he thought he long had gotten rid of, “It’s for his own good. Imagine how much he could hurt Huaisang with the way he is going. Hurt himself. It’s best to put an end to his suffering.” 

Wen Ruohan hovered in front of him, an artful brow shooting upwards, “And here I was thinking you were getting payback.” 

“It’s for his own good,” Jin Guangyao repeated.

“Just say you regret saving him and want his life as payment for his abuse, A-Yao.” 

________________________________________________________

4.  

His mother thought of every excuse for his father for why he had never returned. 

“He must be busy,” she whispered one night after entertaining ten men, the bruises still fresh on her throat, “that’s why he hasn’t come for you.” 

“He’ll come soon.” She said, fingering the pearl button as the illness stole the meat from her every limb, not even sparing the soft curves of her cheeks.

 “A matter must have taken his attention.” 

She waited.

She died waiting.

In the end, when he replaced his family name with Jin, Jin Guangyao watched the man he called father shirk his duties onto his lap so he could run off to the next brothel. 

He watched his father from the corner of his eye, waiting for the warmth that his mother promised. The same softness that crinkled around his eyes back when Zixuan was in the room. But when Jin Guangyao spoke to him, Jin Guangshan looked more interested in the ‘antique’ vase in the corner of his office.

Wen Ruohan raised his eyebrow at him after one such meeting.  

Jin Guangyao waved him off, “I got all I wanted from him: acknowledgement. What else do I need from him?” 

“Whatever helps you sleep better,” He grinned at him. 

 “You may comfort yourself with that thought.” Jin Guangyao replied.

-

“Meng Shi was a famous entertainer,” Jin Guangshan said to a prostitute near an open window of the brothel, “but as a literate woman, she would be too much trouble.”

Jin Guangyao’s smile froze.  

“What of her son?” The prostitute asked. Perhaps the one warming his lap. 

“Forget it.” He hand-waved. 

Xue Yang roared with laughter beside him, cursing out words that blended perfectly with the stampede of the crowds in the bustling red district of Lanling city. 

Jin Guangyao’s smile remained pasted as he entered the brothel to retrieve Jin Guangshan. It remained on his face all the way back to Jinlin Tai, even with Xue Yang’s prods and Clan Leader Jin’s drunken rants.

He started trembling the moment he stepped into his room. His favorite clay pot rattled when he tried to lift it over the hot coals. 

“Why are you acting so surprised?” Wen Ruohan materialized across from him. The ghostly sway of his hair blended with the curl of smoke from the coals. He wore a thin smile, as fake as the trinket Jin Guangyao’s “father” gave his mother.

“I’m not in the mood for your antics,” Jin Guangyao said, replacing the pot on the coals again. The top nearly popped off with how hard it rattled. 

Wen Ruohan ignored him, “You knew he would crush you beneath his heel the first chance he got.” 

Jin Guangyao’s hand tightened around the handle. 

“I thought you sought acknowledgement for your mother’s dream?” Wen Ruohan’s head tilted to the side, as if to consider.

“Wen Ruohan,” he warned. The edges of his vision blurred in the deep ochres of the waning sun and a tint of light blue of Wen Ruohan’s ghostly form. 

Blue pupils, long since unblinking, met his. “You wanted him to love you.” 

“This is your last warning,” Jin Guangyao hissed through his teeth.

“You know what confuses me?” Wen Ruohan ignored him, “You weeped how your father kicked you down all of Jinlin Tai’s stairs when you first came groveling for acknowledgement. And now you are upset that he doesn’t love you when you forced him to give you the Jin name. 

Why would you assume he would start loving you when all he saw was a waste of space?” 

Jin Guangyao slammed his fist on the table. A sharp spike of pain flew up his arm. The teapot barely budged; it shook more when he held it, “My mother died waiting for him!” 

And he never weeped.  

Wen Ruohan watched him with a blank expression, “He never was going to come back.” 

Jin Guangyao swung his head towards the ceiling. The solid wood of the dark table anchored him from to the tempest of fire brewing deep in his chest. A tear dripped down his cheek.

 “You want me to admit I regret killing you? That I should have known from the start that the acknowledgment from my sorry excuse of a father was a mistake.” 

Jin Guangyao smiled at Wen Ruohan. His cheeks aching from tension, “You know, I have a theory, Clan Leader.” 

Wen Ruohan’s eyes narrowed, searching him. It only made Jin Guangyao smile wider. “What you really want is me to acknowledge I loved you. That it all wasn’t an act. That you were more than a stepping stone.”   

Wen Ruohan’s nose flared. The ghostly smoke swirled, like ink dropped into water and then stirred, to the point only a cloud of blue floated in the place of his head.

Jin Guangyao waited patiently, pouring hot water from the clay teapot into the tea leaves he prepared. The handle a pleasant burn in his palm. 

Only after he replaced the tea leaves did he continue, “I planned to kill you from the start. Not once did I reconsider.” He glanced at the ghost. 

Wen Ruohan’s features slowly returned, rough patches where the eyes and mouth should have been, but still placed with an artist’s eye. It betrayed no expression, blank like in one of his meetings, or when the news came of loss after loss after loss. 

“And I loved you. I didn’t fake a thing.” Jin Guangyao took a sip before reaching for the Qiankun pouch at his side.

“Men- Jin Guangyao, what are you doing?” Wen Ruohan shot forward, his head bobbing above the smoking tea. 

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be surprised,” Jin Guangyao said as he untied his belt, “Fuqin is trash who I shouldn’t have expected better from. And do you know what you do with trash, Clan Leader Wen?” 

Wen Ruohan’s eyes bulged as he removed his decapitated head from the pouch. Eyes closed with every lash in place and mouth relaxed. Outside the pallid skin, sunken cheeks, and missing body, it almost looked as if he were asleep. Even his hair barely tangled—the preservation talismans did their job. 

“Throw it out.” 

_

“That was what I told you.” Wen Ruohan muttered later that evening, “I told you to throw trash out.”

Jin Guangyao smiled at the dark ceiling. The only downside of a fierce corpse head companion is the lack of body heat, “To be exact, you said to burn trash so it may be reborn from the ashes.” 

“So I did. Were you planning on trying that with my head?”

 Jin Guangyao huffed, “I considered. But I had a better idea—let the flames cleanse the dirt so a temple could be built instead.” 

Around his mother’s grave. And Guanyin shaped to her likeness so she may reincarnate into a better life. 

Wen Ruohan floated in front of him, a blue wisp of cold fire in the darkness of night, “Do you regret it?”

Jin Guangyao laughed. Deep and loud. 

He didn’t know. 

_______________________________________________________

5.

“Do you like it, Fuqin?” Jin Guangyao taunted from behind the curtain. 

The parade of ugly, old prostitutes sat on Jin Guangshan’s lap, working like they would any client. Rivers of tears poured down his father’s face with his wails muffled by the cloth muzzle tied securely around his mouth. 

“You ask for prostitutes almost every day,” Jin Guangyao continued, “I got you so many. I did as you asked. Aren’t you happy?” 

  A bonfire lit in his veins, pulsing in his ears like war drums.

His mother suffered because of him. 

He suffered because of him. 

Blood, sweat and tears just to get his acknowledgment. 

Was it a sin for a child to want their father’s love? 

Blood. Sweat. And tears. 

For a man who wouldn’t spare them another glance. 

And now, Jin Guangshan, bare-boned and sick, tied to the bed, with his legs splayed out like his mother was forced to do for years. But even if every prostitute in the room sat on his lap one thousand times, it would only be the fraction of the men his mother had to entertain. 

What a pathetic, weak little man. 

Wen Ruohan roared with laughter beside him. Watching the spectacle as he would on a good day at the Fire Palace.  

“I always loved your taste in punishments.” He wheezed, “Claim to only humor me back then or not, but truly, your ideas are something else.”

A smile dripping venom bloomed on Jin Guangyao’s face. A thrill of pure glee, hot like molten metal, bubbled in his chest. 

He gave his “father” so many chances. Who else is he to blame but himself? 

Wen Ruohan’s eyes met Jin Guangyao’s, flashing like rays of a bright star, “No regrets?” 

Jin Guangyao laughed at him. A deep belly laugh that only Wen Ruohan could stir within him. “Regrets? Who in this world has time for regrets? I have a sect to run and a future to strive for. He’s as good as dead.” He grinned so much it hurt, “I can live now!” 

Wen Ruohan paused, his own smile frozen on his face, “What of Nightless City? Weren’t you free then?” 

“Only if I had your fickle regard,” The words spilled out so easily, as if Jin Guangyao was drunk, “What if you changed your mind about me? What if you found out I was a spy? You would kill me.” 

Wen Ruohan’s good humor disappeared. His eyes, now only strokes of blue, bore into his, a seriousness that rarely graced his features.

 “I knew.” 

Jin Guangyao balked, the glee dissipating, leaving behind a gaping hole in his chest. 

“Since when-” 

One prostitute interrupted with a scream, “He’s dead!” 

_____________________________________________________________________

+1 

Wen Ruohan didn’t dare appear during the chaos at Guanyin Temple. Dealing with a demonic cultivator and Nie Mingjue’s reanimated corpse was far too risky. And it wasn’t like he could do much, with not even his entire soul intact.

But then, after, it was too late. 

“You wouldn’t let me live!” Jin Guangyao shouted at Lan Xichen before running towards the coffin, “Fuck you, Nie Mingjue, you think I’m scared of you?”

And in the next instance, Nie Mingjue’s corpse snapped his neck. 

The seal on the coffin holding their corpses would last a hundred years. They wouldn’t be able to reincarnate, souls trapped to fight one another until one such day they could pass.

 With his head still hidden in the Qiankun pouch by Jin Guangyao’s side, neither could Wen Ruohan. 

Perhaps it is due to this that Wen Ruohan passed through the wards unchallenged. He floated over the coffin, yet to be buried. 

“A-Yao?”

No response. 

“The wager is off.” He continued, “I won’t make you regret betraying me. I promise.” 

No response. 

“It shouldn’t have ended this way. Come out so we can complain about it until they deem us ready to reincarnate together. I always keep my promises. You can come out now.”

Silence. 

No, not quite. Just the groans of two fierce corpses buried below. 

A tug pulled his attention, so slight he almost missed it.

Just by the coffin right on the outside, flicks of resentment fluttered around a stain of blood. Wen Ruohan floated closer. 

Two characters scribbled on the side of the coffin. As if in a rush.

Regret. 

Wen Ruohan settled by the coffin, right by the characters. He stared out through the broken door, watching the sky change from pitch black to light blue. 

“You know, A-Yao… I never wanted to win.”

[unpeumacabre]

soaring dragon dancing phoenix - 龙飞凤舞: prologue

Yunmeng is no longer home for Wei Wuxian, for he is no longer welcome. And so when he visits he can always count on Jiang Cheng descending upon his head with the full strength of heaven's fury, to chase him out. But one day when he sneaks into Yunmeng again, days go by without Jiang Cheng making an appearance. Something has happened to Wei Wuxian's prickly shi-di, something that - once they reunite - they will find is far greater than they could ever have anticipated. Accompanied also by Wei Wuxian's dear friend (?) Lan Zhan and a Lan Xichen who has only just reluctantly left isolation, the four of them set out on a journey that will bring them across the greater part of China to the mystical Kunlun mountains of mythology - and more importantly, may bring them love, healing, and reconciliation.

If only Wei Wuxian could take his head out of his oblivious arse and start putting himself in other people's shoes for once...

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Wangxian, Xicheng, Wei Wuxian & Jiang Cheng

Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)

Count: 1.5k

next ->

One year after the events of the Guanyin Temple, and the death of former Chief Cultivator Lianfang-zun.

Lan Zhan!

I agree with what you said about Sect Leader Yao, that old fart. He wouldn’t know a good idea if it bit him on the arse. If I were you I’d have snuck into his room at night and shaved off his eyebrows – but then again, you’re Chief Cultivator, and you have to follow boring things like rules and protocol. Don’t worry, the next time I’m in Pingyang I’ll … It’s a secret! Look forward to the next time you have a discussion conference with that pig-headed old fool.

I’ve finally reached Yunmeng. Little Apple took such a long time to get started from the inn in Jiangling. I think he had a crush on one of the serving girls, to be honest. Even apples didn’t work to drag him away from her. I had to conjure a mirage of her all the way from Jiangling to Yunmeng to get him going – can you imagine that? One of these days I’ll have to find a nice little female ass to keep his little Little Apple happy … Hahaha! I can practically see you rolling your eyes at me now, Lan Zhan. You still can’t take a dirty joke after all.

Anyway, I digress. It’s nice to be back in Yunmeng and be able to pick all the lotus pods I want and to flirt with all the pretty Yunmeng girls, although none of them are as pretty as you are, of course. You’d make a big stir if you came to Yunmeng – you should visit with me one of these days when you’re free! Although I know of course you have responsibilities as Chief Cultivator etc etc but I promise you it’ll be fun! One of these days I’ll come kidnap you. Then Lan Qiren, that old man, would really have an aneurysm, ha! I’d kidnap you just to see his reaction.

Don’t worry about me, I’m talking nonsense as usual. I wouldn’t really kidnap you, unless I was really bored. And Jiang Cheng would probably beat my ass for trying. Honestly, it surprises me that I haven’t had the honour of Jiang Cheng’s company yet. Somehow, he always knows the moment I step into Yunmeng – it’s like he has a spell set up to go off whenever I’m in the vicinity??? And he never fails to turns up for an hour or two just to shout at me, thrash Zidian around a bit and tell me to go back to Gusu. Then he storms off somewhere to drink tea or something. I swear he’s going to die of high blood pressure one of these days.

Well, I expect I’ll see him around. He’s bound to turn up sometime or other. Looking forward to your reply, and counting every one of your twenty words,

Wei Wuxian

***

Lan Zhan!

Thank you for expressing your concern for Little Apple’s wellbeing. He’s eating well (as usual) and living happily in the city stables where I left him. He has a new crush on the stable boy though, but I’m not worried about that – it seems like his affections are as transient as floating smoke and passing clouds. He seems to be like his former master in the sense of being indiscriminate with regards to his choice of partner, which makes me wonder why he’s taken such an intense aversion to me. I guess it’s just the same old story with me and animals all over again.

It’s my third day in Yunmeng, and still no sign of Jiang Cheng anywhere. Perhaps he’s simply busy with some night hunt or other and can’t be bothered to whip my ass into shape. I’ve been visiting his favourite haunts the past few days but no luck – it seems like he’s really busy this time. I’m starting to worry, and although I never thought I’d ever say this, I miss his grumpy ass. It’s been the longest I’ve gone without hearing him call me a fucking idiot, haha!

Anyway I have a funny story to tell! Yesterday I went to investigate rumours of walking corpses at the base of Yunmeng Mountain. Apparently some farmers came across them and ran away but one of them was caught and eaten.

But guess what, Lan Zhan? Actually, it was nothing more than a group of hermits who’d come down from Yunmeng Mountain five days ago after meditating in seclusion for three years, and they were doing their Bagua ritual circle walk around one of the dove trees at the base of the mountain. They hadn’t bathed once in those three years, and so when the farmers came upon them and saw them chanting and moaning and pacing around the tree they were mistaken for walking corpses! Hahahaha how ridiculous is that??? Anyway I cleared up the misunderstanding. The farmer who was apparently eaten fell down a cliff when he was trying to escape from the “corpses” and broke his leg, so the hermits rescued him and patched him up. He was perfectly fine. I talked to them and they seemed like a pretty normal bunch to me – they were quite a big group when they came down the mountain at first apparently but then most of them decided to go down south and back home instead of lingering in Yunmeng. That’s about all the excitement I’ve had so far, I think.

Well, anyway, thank you for the twenty-one words you used in your reply. You have gotten quite adept at teasing me, haven’t you? Looking forward to how else you may surprise me next,

Wei Wuxian

***

Lan Zhan,

No, I don’t think Jiang Cheng fell off a cliff too. As much as you might wish for it to happen, he’s still my brother an important sect leader, you know! Anyway I already checked all the cliffs around the mountain before I received your letter so it couldn’t possibly be so.

Besides, I went to Lotus Pier earlier today – just to check on how things are going, you know, in case they need my help or something, nothing to do with Jiang Cheng. I just stayed outside the gates because I thought Jiang Cheng would probably descend from the heavens on a cloud and break my legs the moment I stepped foot into Lotus Pier, but some of the disciples spotted me and asked me what I was doing there. They said there have been people disappearing just outside Yunmeng, to the southwest and twenty li outside the main city, and when some of the Yunmeng Jiang cultivators went to investigate a few days ago some of them disappeared. So Jiang Cheng decided to take a few more of the Yunmeng Jiang disciples and investigate himself.

Since I have some free time, I’ve decided to help them out. They’ve been gone for four days already – the beast must truly be a handful indeed. It might be fun to go and help, although I think Jiang Cheng might spontaneously explode when he sees my face. Well, maybe the explosion will end up killing the monster, who knows.

It’s quite odd, though; some of the disciples who escaped even said they saw the spectre of Jin Guangyao, that wily old fox, hanging around the cave where they were attacked. Although of course that is impossible, for he is probably still trapped in Nie Mingjue’s coffin, fighting a battle till the end of time. Well, I guess I’ll see for myself if what they saw was true or not.

I had not known that you were capable of silk embroidery. Your skill is indeed fine – as expected of the esteemed Second Master Lan! I shall treasure your gift until the end of time. The cherry blossoms flowered today, and they made me think of you. I wonder if you still remember visiting Tanzhou with me when we were looking for the remaining pieces of the Yin metal? Was it your first time attending such a festival? You looked so surprised by the petals raining down on you then! I miss those times. 

I will write to you again tomorrow when I have rescued Jiang Cheng from the human-eating monster. I will make sure to give you a good account of his face when he sees me there to interfere with his night hunt, ha!

***

Dear Lan Wangji Hanguang-jun Mr Chief Cultivator Sir,

I am writing this letter to you because I know you to be a good friend of Wei Wuxian. Just today, I visited Lotus Pier and found that my uncle has been missing for a week, and Wei Wuxian with him for two of those days. They have apparently gone in pursuit of a human-eating monster twenty li southwest of the main city limits of Yunmeng. It must have been a fierce creature indeed to have ensnared both my uncle and Wei Wuxian

Unfortunately, as I am currently extremely and regrettably tied up in Lanling Jin sect matters, this humble person would like to humbly request for your help in locating and possibly rescuing them. Thank you.

Best regards, yours sincerely and most humbly,

Sect Leader Jin Ling, Lanling Jin sect

[tanoraqui]

[now all on AO3!]

it starts, like all great slightly cracky fix-it AUs, with Nie Huaisang impetuously deciding to do something slightly good and slightly selfish

basically, at Phoenix Mountain, while everybody else is busy having romantic drama and/or exchanging lukewarm shots in the building cold war over the Stygian Tiger Seal, NHS is busy getting reamed out by his brother again for not being remotely good at, uh…anything. Archery, ghost-hunting, monster-hunting…etc.

then he happens to look over at Jiang Yanli, the daughter of the goddamn Violet Spider yet who isn’t expected to do anything but be pretty and deal with romantic drama, and thinks, hmm.

Clearly the solution is to Acquire or Fake a Serious Medial Condition

Fake better than Acquire. NHS enjoys being a little dramatically frail, but he’d rather not actually have to deal with it. But in order to fake something well enough to fool his brother, as an ongoing thing, he needs

a competent medical professional

who would be reliably loyal to him (begging, bribery, and blackmail all valid options to ensure this if required)

and won’t be too intimidated to lie to Chifeng-zun himself

it is important at this juncture to remember 2 things about Nie Huaisang, as of approximately the Phoenix Mountain hunt:

he is the privileged second son of a mighty sect, not coddled but definitely humored quite a lot, and despite having gotten through a short war not long before, he has never personally faced a real consequence in his life. He’s seen some shit happen, to his friends and his family, but he himself has never experienced a real consequence in his life

he is, however, aware at every moment that real consequences exist, even when he’s doing truly outrageous things to deserve them. Unlike certain a demonic cultivator who shall go unnamed. in fact, he puts effort into avoiding them, also unlike a certain demonic cultivator

so Nie Huaisang asks around a bit, indirectly and sometimes over drinks, and a week later he’s at one of the small towns in Qishan where the remnants of the Wen sect have been stashed, requisitioning Wen Qing

“...why?” says the Jin disciple in charge of security, who maybe NHS has met at a cultivation conference or hunt before

NHS rolls his eyes and complains from behind his fan, “I don’t know! I think Da-ge just wanted to make me fly here, to build my endurance or something. But she’s on of the greatest healers in the land, isn’t she? Our training yards do produce a lot of wounds.”

The Jin disciple has to admit that all of the above is true and/or plausible. Maybe she makes eye contact with one of the Nie disciples NHS has brought with him as protocol and the dangers of the countryside demand, and he nods slightly. She knew him in the Sunshot Campaign, and trusts his judgement more than that of the flighty heir to Qinghe Nie, so she calls for Wen Qing to be found and brought to the oversight center 

(NHS has implied to his retainers/guards that he wants to ask Wen Qing about a personal medical matter that he doesn’t want getting back to his brother, and they accepted it and are prepared to obfuscate that “truth” to an outsider)

(NHS is still new to this; he’s letting his lies get too complex, different for different people and thus harder to keep track of)

Wen Qing is brought, chin still lifted with dignity despite her drab and dirty robes. The Jin scoff; NHS greets her as effusively and not-quite-politely as though they were still students at Cloud Recesses together, and begs a private audience that she can’t deny. The Jin captain offers her office, and the rest clear out.

“Okay so I need you to help me fake a serious but not too serious medical condition,” says Nie Huaisang, and explains the gist of his plan and desires. “In return, you’ll get out of here - come back to the Unclean Realm and live in, you know, whatever comfort a war-focused sect castle* which my brother won’t let me redecorate can provide.”

*apologies to the setting f fantasy Ancient China, but I cannot imagine the Nie sect inhabiting anything but, like, this

“What,” demands Wen Qing, because she isn’t given to absolutely ridiculous ideas, and moreover, she’s a responsible physician and this is so sketch

...but

she’s also a Wen, a curse which thus far has outweighed her gifts as a physician in the eyes of the world, and hand in hand with being a Wen and long before her hand first touched a needle, she is a sister

so she crosses her arms - no. She ducks her head deferentially and says, “I’ll need my assistant to help. My brother.” And she looks up with iron in her eyes, and they both know that this is the final price

NHS offers his hand to shake. “Done.”

here’s the thing though: Wen Qing does have those medical ethics though they don’t always extend to requiring consent for major surgery, and moreover she has a lot of practice surviving, and keeping her brother safe, in a court where they aren’t much wanted. And she’s honest by nature, which mostly means that when she tells lies, they’re carefully chosen

so a few days later, she stands bowing before Nie Mingjue in the grand front hall of Qinghe’s stony fortress, where the last time Wens were there, their blood spilled across the floor. Wen Ning bows from half a step behind her, where he always does; Nie Huaisang stands half a step in front of her, artfully stuttering in the face of his brother’s bellowing. He hasn’t even gotten to his false story yet

(Wen Qing knows real fear when she sees it, she’s both seen it and felt it enough in Wen Ruohan’s court and since, and the second son of Nie has clear never felt it in his life. Not, at least, because of his elder brother.)

“Sect Leader Nie,” she says, stepping past her would-be-cunning, would-be-savior. She bows even more deeply as Chifeng-zun’s attention shifts to her, but still speaks clearly. “Please forgive your brother his trespass, in bringing this one and this one’s assistant to your hall. His concern is only for you, and your health. I am Wen Qing, of the Dafan Wen, who have studied medicine for generations upon generations. I myself, and my brother to assist me, have particular experience managing spiritual power and preventing qi deviations.” It’s mostly truth. “We have been brought only to serve you.”

NHS: [*shocked pikachu face*; the words TOP TEN ANIME BETRAYALS! flash across the screen]

he recovers quickly, though. He’s good at that

“Yes - ” His fan flutters anxiously and tears well in the corners of his eyes. “Ever since the Sunshot campaign ended, da-ge, you’ve been even angrier...”

It takes a while. It’s very loud, and entirely in public. But this is Qinghe, where anything worth doing is worth doing aggressively and in-your face. 

Eventually Nie Mingjue turns back to Wen Qing and growls, “Even if they have some medical knowledge, why should we trust Wen-dogs?”

(Wen Qing hates this. She is Wen and she hates this; she is Wen Qing, reknowned physician, and she hates this. She hates the indignity, the disrespect, and that she’s about to call on a debt she promised herself that she wouldn’t because it shouldn’t have been a debt in the first place, it should have just been treating the patient in front of her)

“Wei Wuxian of YunmengJiang will vouch for us, Nie-zhongzhi,” she says, bowing deeply again.

NMJ’s lip curls, and he says flatly, “The demonic cultivator.”

(Mistake. She gambles harder.) “Jiang Ch- Sect Leader Jiang will also vouch for us. We sheltered him and his brother when Wen Chao hunted them, after the destruction of Lotus Pier.” She lifts her head then, to meet his eyes. “We are physicians first, and will treat the patient in front of us. And you, Sect Leader, need treatment.”

It’s become clear over the course of this confrontation - his eyes are bloodshot, his hand has the faintest tremor every time it’s not clenching his saber hilt so tightly that the palm must be bruised. If she could touch him and explore the state of his meridians, she’s sure they’d be as settled as a flock of crows awaiting the end of a battle

She knew it before, though, or she wouldn’t have started this gambit in the first place. The Nie saber method’s dangers of qi cultivation are well-known among physicians, albeit not understood outside of the Unclean Realm. More importantly, the fear of it was between the lines of every one of Nie Huaisang’s complaints about his brother’s overbearence and the horrors of saber practice, which she’s been listening to for the past day and a half. And Nie Huaisang is known for being a coward, but not on behalf of his brother.

Nie Mingjue raises eyebrows at her, but he gives a short nod. (She should’ve known, she thinks, that Chifeng-zun would respond better to fierceness than to obsequiousness. She’s still to used to Qishan, and recently to the attitude of Langling.) “You may join our physicians - once I receives word from Yunmeng.”

Wei Wuxian brings the affirmation himself, in the form of a letter from Jiang Cheng. Wen Qing doesn’t get to see it, but WWX assures her that it was very polite and approbational. She thanks him once and not effusively, and they both nod and know that their debt is settled - probably a brother’s life for probably a brother’s life 

(she can keep Wen Ning safe in this place, she’s already sure of it. It is Wen Ruohan and Qishan all over again, but far better - in Qishan what mattered was power, and she scraped and bowed for just enough to get by. What matters in Qinghe is strength, for which Wen Qing has never lacked a day in her life)

(What mattered in the few miles of land the had Jin hemmed them into was subordination and indignity, neither of which she has ever mastered)

{there’s another letter to Nie Mingjue that Wen Qing never knows about, from Jin Guangyao on behalf of his father in Lanlang, politely asking what the absolute hell Nie Sect is doing with the two highest-ranking remaining Wen cultivators. After being reassured that these Wen-dogs are tamed ones, Nie Mingjue writes back...well, pretty much that, with kind of a “fuck you and the sword you rode in on” flavor}

{Jin Guangshan swears, complains, and scoffs a great deal when he receives it, and eventually settles down with a grumbled, “Well, maybe the Wen bitch will simply poison him, or he’ll find a reason to execute her, or both. Then I’ll be rid of them both.” Jin Guangyao murmurs an agreement that’s almost entirely genuine, because he hasn’t forgiven Nie Mingjue for that comment about his mother)

Wei Wuxian stays a week, messing around with Nie Huaisang like they’re still children at Cloud Recesses (they were all children, then) or infuriating Nie Mingjue apparently for fun, or most often both at once. At least it makes NMJ’s temper suitably riled for Wen Qing to get in a good first examination. To the surprise of no one, he’s in bad shape. 

The author would put in fun fantasy medical language here, but this book explains jackshit about its magic system, but let’s say it’s like...when there’s been a fast, hard rain and the hillside has turned to mud and it’s not collapsing yet, no, there wasn’t quite enough rain for that - but one more strong shower could do it, bring the whole hillside down on the busy road below, and if one person goes wandering and steps in the wrong place, they might slip into a sinkhole and never come out again? Nie Mingjue’s spiritual energy is like that.

so Wen Qing bullies him into cutting back on saber use by an hour a day - bullying is her natural bedside manner, and she’s backed by several true Nie physicians, genuinely in agreement but grateful to have someone else take the brunt of their Sect Leader’s angry resistance. Nie Huaisang also helps, with an abundance of pleading and near-tears

he also has to accept the bargain of practicing with his own saber for an extra half hour every day that Nie Mingjue appropriately refrains, which is frankly hilarious

after a few more days of peace, she lets Wen Ning out of her sight, pairs him up with a junior Nie physician who knows the area well and sends them to find the herbs she needs. Nie Mingjue does not, at least, protest the sourness of the medicine she brews

and she recommends Lan calming music, because, honestly, why the hell wasn’t he being treated with that already. His sworn brother is Zewu-jun; why are men in power always so stubborn - 

well, of course she knows the answer, it’s “men” and “power.” And maybe she should be a little more deferential - but as discussed, that’s never been in her nature nor her bedside manner, and Sect Leader Nie seems to respond well to, if not simply being bullied, than at least the snappish [fantasy Ancient China equivalent of cop]/puppy eyes [ditto] routine she and Nie Huaisang fall into naturally

and...he starts to get better. It’s just a start, but the hillside starts to settle back into place.

it’s peaceful enough, it seems a steady and safe enough place, that 2 weeks after Wei Wuxian’s gone, she makes another gamble. Not with Nie Mingjue, though - she finds Nie Huaisang in one of his favorite painting spots, stands between him and the lovely mountain view, and demands a favor

To be continued... (this is 1 of 3 probably?)

[needtherapy]

soaring, carried aloft on the wind...continued 19

A story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 Part 2: 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / ... HOME

It’s complete on AO3 here.

Notes: Check the tags if you’re concerned about the pairings ;)

For translations of the entirely fictitious Beifeng language, you’ll have to scroll to notes. I’m only going to translate something that’s not clear in the text. Sadly, there’s just not any other good way to do it on Tumblr!

Chapter 19 Earlier

They may have been technically in an armistice, but it did not escape Xichen’s notice that the scouts still patrolled, and groups of Ikarahu soldiers still rode out in the evenings. Trust, Xichen thought, but not without contingency.

Still, it meant that Xichen had less to do during his days. He still spent mornings with the healers and time working with Mingjue, but there were fewer injuries to heal and fewer decisions to make. It had been too cold to sword fight, sometimes even too cold to ride. It hadn’t taken long for him to grow bored with so many idle afternoons.

Fortunately, Guangyao had expressed interest in deepening his knowledge of the guqin, and it became a welcome distraction in Xichen’s day. Xichen had been uncertain of the wisdom of befriending him at first, but Guangyao made no demands of him and kept a respectful distance, letting Xichen guide their conversations, and eventually, Xichen found that he liked the man’s quiet, thoughtful company.

Sometimes they spoke of poetry, as they had discovered a mutual appreciation for the poetry of Mu Bai, one of the greatest pastoral poets in their country’s history. Sometimes they shared tea and talked about the strange world they had found themselves in and the peculiarities of living in an army camp.

And sometimes, they spoke of home.

Obliquely, of course. Xichen preferred not to share details of his family, and Guangyao was, if anything, more reticent about his life in Jinlin Tai. But they could speak of their cities, the infrastructure, the people, their day-to-day tasks. As much as Xichen valued Qingyang and Huaisang, it wasn’t the same as having a friend who understood the position and life he’d left. Guangyao could laugh with Xichen about the famously disastrous contract between the Wen and the Zhao two decades ago that ended with the dissolution of two marriages, the return of the silk dowry that had already been made into dresses, and a vow that the Wen would never drink Zhao tea again. He sympathized with the failed compact between Xichen’s uncle and Yunmeng, although in the end, that alliance had been made stronger through a triad of exchanges that cost the Cloud Recesses fewer concessions. He told funny stories of bickering merchants in Jinlin Tai and Xichen told stories of escaped goats. It made him miss his home both less and more to talk about it, and he thought he saw the same wistfulness in Guangyao.

Today, however, at the time they usually sat to play, he was surprised to find Guangyao’s tent occupied with other people.

Mingjue was sitting in a chair, leaning over a map on the table. Qingyang was holding a brush over a map she seemed to be guarding, never fond of anyone touching her maps, and especially not fond of Guangyao around them. He had, only once, debated the placement of a territory border, and she clearly had not forgiven him. Guangyao and Huaisang were having an animated discussion about...something Xichen didn’t catch because as soon as Mingjue saw him, he grinned, mouth tipping up at one corner, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Xichen’s focus narrowed to the beloved shape of his face.

“Aitapaho, come. Sit,” Mingjue beckoned.

Xichen set down his guqin and sat in the chair next to Mingjue, which Mingjue moved closer, cupping the nape of Xichen’s neck to kiss his forehead and nose, the warmth of his mouth spreading slowly across Xichen’s skin. Always so demonstrative, Xichen thought, but he couldn’t help smiling.

“Are you finished?” Huaisang asked, with a disgruntled huff. “Guangyao was just explaining the route the Jin supply chain takes from Ganyu, and I would very much like to discuss how we can remove it.”

“No no, please continue. I am taking note of the different shades of red Huaisang has turned for mixing colors later,” Qingyang interrupted, laughing when Huaisang flicked a map weight in her direction.

Xichen folded his hands in his lap serenely. “I would not interrupt your work. I can not speak for your brother.”

Mingjue’s hands closed around Xichen’s, and he pulled them to his mouth, blowing hot air on Xichen’s chilled fingers, grazing the knuckles with his lips and looking at Xichen in a way that made his stomach flop agreeably. “I do not interrupt you either,” he said, and Huaisang snorted.

Xichen tilted a smile in his direction, and Mingjue sat back, pleased with himself, still holding Xichen’s hands. “Go on, Guangyao,” he encouraged magnanimously. “We are all here.”

Guangyao appeared as annoyed by the interruption as Huaisang, but he only let out a small, aggravated sigh and began pointing to spots on the map again. Qingyang marked the path he indicated with swift, light touches. Xichen could see that they were marking a route leading north from Jinlin Tai and skirting the coast to a tiny harbor on the sea.

“Will destroying it not violate the armistice, anati?” Xichen asked Huaisang.

He reached out to Kitingi, standing on the padded leather perch Guangyao had made for her, feathers fluffed around her. She closed her eyes in avian rapture as Xichen scratched the back of her neck, and Xichen peeked at Guangyao out of the corner of his eye.

His face was perfectly relaxed, and he seemed entirely unconcerned that he was giving the enemy of his father valuable military intelligence. Was it genuine? A dangerous ruse? Xichen couldn’t read the small expressions of his face easily. Or rather, he didn’t always understand what he saw on Guangyao’s face. They sometimes twinged against the back of his mind like an untuned guqin string, and he couldn’t be sure if what he saw was true or calculated.

It was Guangyao who answered. “No, not if the disruption is a natural disaster. There is allowance in the agreement for the inherent unpredictability of nature. The caravan travels over this bridge.” He pointed to a river on the map. “It is guarded well, but if there was a sudden flood and the river overran its banks, who would be to blame? The next time it rains, the bridge could very well be washed away, and it would be an insurmountable setback. If the timing was right, someone enterprising might even find the supplies from the next caravan washed downstream.”

Qingyang turned what looked like the start of a laugh into a grimace, and Huaisang’s eyes widened in mock horror. “Guangyao, do you think the Ikarahu can create rain?"

It wasn’t quite fair to say they could create rain, nor could they stop it, as Xichen had found. But they could make the air fill with water from one part of the river and move it to another, and it would, Xichen thought, look a lot like rain. Especially to the Jin.

Guangyao flushed and shrugged, and Huaisang laughed, a quick chuckle. “That clever bit of advice comes very close to admitting you know more about our magic than you have previously acknowledged.”

To Xichen, he sounded admiring, but Guangyao dipped his head and hunched his shoulders away from Huaisang as though he expected a reprimand. “You cannot fault me for being observant.”

Huaisang bumped his arm against Guangyao’s, and the man looked up in surprise. “It wasn’t an insult, it was a compliment. I’ll be more clear in the future. This has...you have been a great help.”

The expression on Guangyao’s face was, for a moment, so unguarded, so stunned, Xichen wondered if it was the first compliment he’d ever received.

“Yes, Yao-ti, thank you,” Mingjue agreed, and he leaned forward, catching Guangyao’s attention and waiting until he nodded acknowledgement with a tentative smile before sitting back and folding his arms thoughtfully.

“Whatever magic you use, if it is possible, aim for subtlety, Oringa’anhu Ikira,” Guangyao added. “My father is not an idiot.”

“Are you sure?” Huaisang asked, and Qingyang looked away, eyes dancing with mirth. “But I find subtlety so overrated.”

“I am.” Guangyao‘s words were tight and clipped. “You would be an idiot if you underestimate him.”

“Ah, Yao-ti,” Mingjue smiled indulgently. “Aurakat is often an idiot, but he is not a fool. Da ati eko anha, Aurakat? Roka et kindio di amau daku?” he asked, glancing back at Guangyao. “Heti pia amau daku.”

Huaisang clicked his tongue and grumbled, “Em ekos auha kindio eta iraminga, anakau.”

He didn’t seem truly offended by Mingjue’s question, and Xichen glanced at Guangyao to see if understood Mingjue’s meaning. Guangyao’s face seemed relaxed, but for one fleeting moment, his fingers flexed and his jaw tightened, long enough for Xichen to be certain. He did realize that Mingjue was including him as one of their people to protect. Strangely, though, he did not seem pleased and Xichen wondered why.

“Is this a good idea?” he asked, and Huaisang tipped his head curiously.

“Why wouldn’t it be, Xichen? It’s such minor magic, anakau could do it himself, but if it makes you feel better, I will order him to take a squad.” He grinned impishly and Mingjue shook his head.

“He teases. We will be careful, aitapaho.” He looked smug, and Xichen sighed but didn’t argue. They were a formidable team, and he trusted that they knew what they were doing. And yet, he couldn’t help thinking they were taking such a risk based on the word of a man they barely knew.

A few days later, though, Xichen had a different reason to be displeased.

He should not have intruded. It was ill-bred of him to enter Guangyao’s tent without permission, but he thought of him as a friend he could share worry with, and Mingjue had been gone for several days, longer than he had expected.

Evidently, he had returned.

Mingjue was sprawled on the wood floor of the tent in only his tunic and pants, his armor in a heap next to him. Huaisang was perched on a pillow, back to the door, but he turned to acknowledge Xichen with a brisk nod. Guangyao was standing barefoot on Mingjue’s back, as graceful as a dancer, walking in tiny, careful steps next to his spine. He stopped and shifted, bending at the knees to press his weight down, and Mingjue let out a heartfelt groan that pierced Xichen with an icy dagger.

Guangyao looked up and tipped his head, noticing Xichen watching.

“You will have to teach this…” Mingjue groaned again and Xichen’s lips tightened. “...massage to our healers, Yao-ti.”

Without looking away, Guangyao smiled, toothy and inviting, his dimples like punctures in his cheeks. “I am yours to command, Ipira’orhew Ikira.”

Xichen’s eyes widened, unable to comprehend why Guangyao was looking at him like that, and yet speaking to Mingjue the way he was. It was unsettling, and he let his glance slide away, down at Huaisang, who was looking up at Guangyao, eyebrows drawn together in a pensive frown.

Mingjue chuckled, a flat and pained sound. “I command you...to teach…this...” he said between grunts as Guangyao dug his toes into the muscle on Mingjue’s lower back.

“Then I will do whatever you want,” Guangyao answered, lifting on the balls of his feet at the curve of Mingjue’s buttocks, like he was about to jump, before settling back on his heels. He lightly stepped back to the floor and Mingjue rolled over, twisting his neck and back on the floor like a wriggling puppy.

“What do you think I want, Yao-ti?” he asked softly, stretching his head to the side and raising his eyebrows.

Huaisang stood so quickly he knocked the pillow across the room. “I want dinner,” he huffed and stormed out.

Perhaps “storm” was too dramatic of a word. He walked the way he always did, with a lilting step and a smirk at Xichen, but there was something tight in his jaw Xichen did not like. He felt the same tension on his own face. Guangyao didn’t look at Huaisang, not even when he slapped open the tent flap, instead, fixing his gaze on the ground just beyond Mingjue’s shoulder. Mingjue met Xichen’s eyes, though, like he had just noticed him, like he wanted to ask something, like he would say something that mattered. Xichen didn’t wait for him to collect the words.

“My apologies for interrupting, Ipira’orhew Ikira, Jin-gongzi.”

Xichen found it depressingly simple to hide the chill in his voice and the hurt in his eyes behind the half smile of ingrained civility that had always protected him. The ingrained civility also thought he should explain himself. It told him he should offer plausible excuses for leaving. But he didn’t. He just followed Huaisang out into the cold.

Notes: Da ati eko anha, Aurakat? Roka et kindio di amau daku. Heti pia amau daku? = Can you do it, Aurakat? Without endangering our people? Any of our people? Em ekos auha kindio eta iraminga, anakau. = I would not endanger the armistice, elder brother.

[ibijau]

👀

How about the beginning of the second part for that Wen Qing Lives au that I just can’t seem to work on?

Nie Huaisang did not rescue Wen Ning, but he also does not want Wen Qing's cooperation anyway. He doesn't want Wen Qing's anything and makes it clear when he joins her in the Unclean Realm. She is not what he was hoping to find in that highly guarded cell. 

"Having let you see me, I had a choice between taking you away or killing you. Murder is distasteful and I avoid it whenever possible. Besides, we once had a common friend. After the lengths he went to for your people, I'd rather not see you dead." 

"Yet you left my brother in the Jins' hands." 

"Your brother is a puppet. He's already as good as dead. I've risked enough already." 

He's not wrong of course. Wen Qing knows she ought to feel grateful he at least saved her. Gratefulness is a rare commodity these days, and she never asked to be saved.

"What is to become of me now?" 

Nie Huaisang grimaces, and takes out a fan with which he plays nervously. 

"It depends on what you prefer. I can buy you a farm somewhere isolated, or find a temple that will take you in, or… something. But you'll have to hide for the rest of your life. Jin Guangyao will be looking for you." 

By hide he means she'll have to give up medicine. Her entire soul revolts against that idea, burning with an anger that surprises her. She did not think she could still feel such strong emotions. But she has lost everything else, her friends, her family, her brother even. She will not lose the last thing she has. 

"Have me dropped somewhere far from Qinghe and I'll manage on my own," Wen Qing says. "I don't fear Jin Guangyao. The worst he can do now is to kill me. Until he does, I'll be out there helping whoever I can." 

Nie Huaisang nervously flickers his fan, watching her carefully.

"I won't say a word about your involvement in my escape," Wen Qing promises, guessing that's the reason for his anxiety.

The movement of his fan quickens and his mouth pinches tight. Apparently, he had not actually thought of that. 

"Lady Wen, I told you that my brother had been killed, and you did not protest," Nie Huaisang remarks, ignoring her promise. "Everyone else always assures me that he is only missing, that he might have survived. They make a great show of comforting me so I’ll stop sobbing on their robes. Could it be that you know something about it?" 

"Xue Yang told me about what happened, and I have no reason to doubt him. He is a surprisingly honest man, in his own fashion." 

Watching her captor, Wen Qing sees a few tears pool at the corners of his eyes, though they remain unspilled. For all of his assurance, it appears Nie Huaisang still hoped that his brother was alive in spite of everything. She pities him for the death of that last hope. It reminds her of that day Xue Yang let her know that she had lost everything. The pain of losing kin is one she still feels daily.

"Lady Wen, please, would you tell me what you know?" 

It is a cruel sort of mercy that to share with Nie Huaisang the stories Xue Yang told her. She tries to relay them in a kinder manner than she received them. Judging by how pale Nie Huaisang turns, how tightly he grips his fan, her gentleness does little to soften the blow. 

"He dared," Nie Huaisang hisses. "Brother used to hold him in such high regard once, and Jin Guangyao did this! That snake! He'll pay, I'll make him pay!" 

He is still not crying, but Wen Qing can tell what effort it must take him. She is reminded of Wen Ning, trying to be brave when he was little and swallowing his anger, refusing to cry so he wouldn't upset her. She wonders if Wen Ning would want to avenge her if he were in Nie Huaisang’s place. She doesn't think he would, it doesn't seem like him, but… She remembers Nie Huaisang when they were younger. 

She would not have taken him for the vengeful sort either. 

"Lady Wen, thank you for what you have told me," Nie Huaisang says when some of his rage subsides. "You have helped me more than you could imagine and given me several leads to go on. You have my gratitude." 

"You freed me," Wen Qing replies. "Consider it a debt repaid. But if someday you get your revenge…" she hesitates. Holding grudges goes against what her clan taught her. Healers, not killers. And yet for this, she wants to make an exception. "When you get your revenge, make sure to add another blow to his face, for my family's sake. However they died, they did not deserve this." 

"You do not know how…" 

"No." 

"Do you want to know?" 

Wen Qing hesitates. The honest, truthful answer is no. It is enough to know they are dead.

But in this world that bears her name such deep, unending hate, it would be foolish to hope that the truth never reach her ears. People must talk about what happened. People do little but talk, after all. 

Wen Qing looks at Nie Huaisang, who looks too young and acts too old, who still won’t cry over his brother’s death even though sorrow seems to devour him alive. She gave him the unwanted gift of harsh truth, offered with as much kindness as can ever come from something so horrific. In this moment, she trusts him to return the favour.

“Tell me.”

He does.

Wen Qing doesn’t cry.

One needs a heart for tears, and hers is torn away by what she learns. Her people, her family, the ones she swore to defend and for whom she gave her life, her very soul… and they were slaughtered before she was even set up into her hidden laboratory.

Jin Guangshan must have laughed at her naivety and somewhere beyond the grave, so does Wen Ruohan.

“All of them?” she asks in a voice that doesn’t sound like hers anymore.

“All of them.”

“There was a child. He was three, going on four. We left him at the Burial Mounds, so he wouldn’t have to see me and my brother die. Him as well?”

For the first time since he started his horrific tale, Nie Huaisang seems unsure. The fan in his hand stills, he stares at her with wide eyes.

“I never heard anything about a child,” he claims. “My brother, Zewu-Jun… They went to the Burial Mounds when everything was over, they never said anything about a child. What we did to your people wasn’t right, Lady Wen, but my brother wasn’t the sort to let a child die for the crimes of his elders.”

Wen Qing doesn’t reply. Refuses to reply. A-Yuan wasn’t a threat at the time, no, but she knows how people like that think. There’s a reason Wen Ruohan took her and Wen Ning into his care. He knew that left alone, they might have grown into revenge seeking young people, rather than the indebted fools he turned them into. They killed A-Yuan not for what he was, but what he would have become.

If Nie Huaisang doesn’t see that, then he still has a lot to learn.

“Lady Wen, do you wish to avenge them?” he asks her in a careful tone.

“I owe you my freedom. I will not attack you for your brother’s crimes.”

Nie Huaisang tilts his head as if to get a better look at her. Aside from lingering grief, his expression is unreadable.

“It was not Qinghe Nie who hanged them,” he says at last, as if that absolves him of responsibility. “But consider this: we have a common enemy. Surely you must resent Lanling Jin as much as I do. Or if not the whole sect, then at least those who chose to murder our families.”

[wujipianover]

as long as you need it

written for @mdzsnet ‘s 1 year celebration of cql

day 1: favourite character: Wei Wuxian

summary: Again, the word home comes back into his mind. Such a sense of permanence, of settling, the word brings to him. Lotus Pier was a home, Burial Mounds was a home. But they all had the air of something temporary to them. He was a guest at the home. He never really belonged fully. Here, in the jingshi, where just a table way lies scrolls of paper with his messy writing, this feels like belonging. He has put down roots in the Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian of a lifetime away would laugh at the thought but he now, he here, has a home.

alternatively titled- a day in the life of wei wuxian

tags: established relationship, post-canon, cooking as healing

read on ao3!

Wei Wuxian wakes up to lips being pressed gently to his own. He’s warm, wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets finer than anything he is used to. But he’s used to this. It sends a thrill up his spine, just letting the fact that this is his life, that he has gotten used to this germinate in his mind. He purrs, cat-like. Wei Wuxian is woken up like this everyday. Sometimes the lips are on his eyelids, on his cheeks, on his chin, on his temple. But he likes it best when he is awoken with a kiss on his lips like today. He lies there like that, feeling warmer than he should in the chilly Gusu winters. His husband, his husband’s face is only a breath away when he opens his face. Lan Wangji is smiling at him. Somewhere he started smiling at Wei Wuxian and has not stopped. Wei Wuxian doesn’t want him to stop, ever.

“Good morning Lan Zhan,” he murmurs. He’s quieter in the mornings. Lan Wangji presses another kiss to his mouth and then busies himself with setting the table for breakfast. 

The first time Lan Wangji had kissed him in the morning, he had made a face and had said that his breath was too stinky. Lan Wangji had come close to laughing then. But he had firmly kissed him, lips parting barely enough to have his tongue slip past into Wei Wuxian’s mouth. It had lasted for only ten seconds but it had left him breathing heavily. He hasn’t said anything about morning kisses after that. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that. 

Wei Wuxian stretches, joints creaking deliciously. His limbs feel heavy, like dipped in sugar syrup. He’s sore from last night and if he presses his hips with his fingers, there will be the remnant of pain from where Lan Wangji’s hands left bruises. He feels sacred.

His eyes follow Lan Wangji as he pours tea in two cups. He’s seated at his usual place with a spot empty next to him, waiting for Wei Wuxian. He lingers in the bed for a few more moments not ready to leave the warmth of it and his eyes settle on Lan Wangji. Like they always do, like they always did even a lifetime ago. He looks at him while Lan Wangji very carefully serves congee onto two bowls. Wei Wuxian knows Lan Wangji spent half an hour in the kitchen making it for him. And it is such a privilege to be on the receiving end of this affection. He has been eating breakfast made by his beloved for six months now. The privilege has not faded, just settled in his bones.

Finally, he gets off the bed to join his husband at the table. Lan Wangji wordlessly dumps chilli oil in his congee. Wei Wuxian doesn’t really need the spice in the morning but he likes this so much. Likes that Lan Wangji anticipates his needs before him and provides everything to him like the opposite is not even in question. 

“Thank you,” he says and Lan Wangji smiles wider.

In return he peels a clementine and puts it in front of Lan Wangji. This little dance, they do this everyday; Have been doing since before they got married, right after the downfall of Jin Guangyao when they were still hesitant around each other, bursting with longing unable to contain it, but unable to express it. The tradition continued on after they got married. It is so simple, Wei Wuxian suspects a lot of married couples do this, but the fact that he, Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Laozu gets to have it, is still surprising. So he cherishes it. 

Someday he doesn’t think twice about the sight of Lan Wangji eating breakfast, without the head piece, soft around the edges. And that is such an honour in itself. To have all of this and not let the thoughts stick to your brain. But some days, like today, he wakes up feeling special. The jingshi is quiet, only the clicking of their chopsticks audible. It is a silence that is akin to warmth that blankets you, not suffocating but tucking you and lulling you to sleep. It’s his home, the jingshi. The sandalwood smell that he so strongly associated with Lan Wangji, comes from his black and red robes too. It’s the smell of the incense that they use at home. 

Again, the word home comes back into his mind. Such a sense of permanence, of settling, the word brings to him. Lotus Pier was a home, Burial Mounds was a home. But they all had the air of something temporary to them. He was a guest at the home. He never really belonged fully. Here, in the jingshi, where just a table way lies scrolls of paper with his messy writing, this feels like belonging. He has put down roots in the Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian of a lifetime away would laugh at the thought but he now, he here, has a home.  

They finish breakfast and Wei Wuxian gets up to clear the table. Lan Wangji begins getting ready for the day, putting on the headpiece, putting on even more outer robes, transforming into the Hanguang-jun. Wei Wuxian rattles on about the book he’s writing. Being quiet for too long will only worry his Lan Zhan. And he is actually eager to start working on the new chapter. Talking about everything he has in his mind helps to piece together things better. Lan Wangji is also a very attentive listener and answers all of Wei Wuxian’s questions with his very smart suggestions. Lan Wangji is ready and Wei Wuxian steps to smooth his crinkle-free robes.

And like everyday, Wei Wuxian kisses him in front of the door of the jingshi before he steps out into the world to become the Chief Cultivator. 

“Don’t let the fools bore you to death, okay.” Wei Wuxian says petulantly breaking a sect rule. Only one for a morning, that’s impressive. He’s getting boring. “Or I will have to remind all the old farts that the Chief Cultivator is married to the Yilling Laozu. And even though he has become a bit of an academic, he’s still very scary.”

Lan Wangji dilutes all of his speech by giving a flick to his nose. Wei Wuxian gasps, “You-”

“Yes, me.” Lan Wangji is smug now. “Have a good day, Wei Ying. I will see you tonight,”

And Wei Wuxian presses him to the door and kisses him some more because how dare Lan Wangji make him feel so flustered. He should taste some of his own medicine. He ends up feeling more breathless than when he started. It’s a good morning. 

*

His stomach grumbling finally forces him to tear away from the piles of books and messy scrolls. It’s almost noon, he can discern from the way he is hungry now. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly his body adapted to the schedule of GusuLan. It seemed like he was always running previously. Finally at the barest hint of a schedule, his body settled into it. There’s no running now (not permitted in the Cloud Recesses), just very fast walking that makes Lan Qiren’s blood boil.

He gives a cursory glance at all he’s managed to do this morning. He has been distracted today, but the work in front of him looks good. He’s working on a book to compile everything he knows about demonic cultivation into a handy little educational manual. Wei Wuxian had suggested the idea of the book to Lan Wangji over dinner one day. It could barely be called an idea then. All he wanted to do was make sure no one repeated his mistakes. And make cultivation more open-minded, more accessible to those with no golden cores. Talismans and resentful energy, he had reasoned were not just for those on a heretic path, they helped cultivators forced to sheath their spiritual energy too.

The next day he was given access to all of the library at Cloud Recesses, including the Forbidden Section along with a quiet corner to work. Lan Qiren had tried to protest vehemently but Lan Wangji had cited a rule promoting the growth of the mind and furthering education, not very innocently. That had shut up Lan Qiren. Lan Wangji had turned to face Wei Wuxian, so satisfied with himself that Wei Wuxian had to clench his fists so as to not drag him to the jingshi right then.

It’s absurd that he’s in the library all by himself voluntarily. Long ago, a very annoyed Lan Wangji had to supervise him as he begrudgingly poured over books. Now on occasions A-Yuan has to bodily drag Wei Wuxian away from the texts to lunch.

Nobody quite believes that the Yiling Laozu spends a majority of time reading and writing. His name strikes fear and demands respect, it doesn’t make you think of a man sitting on a table checking talismans over and over. Even though that’s what he did at Burial Mounds too. His Demon-Slaughtering Cave was littered with texts full of experiments. It’s a little funny.

Now, he has a clean library and a very eager A-Yuan dragging him to lunch not strictly consisting of turnips. He has access to all the books he wants and more paper than he could ever fill with ink. He likes experimenting, it gives his brain a very simple satisfaction to piece characters together to make something new. But he also likes feeling useful. Knowing that his work could help a struggling kid is all the motivation he needs to trudge through the difficult parts of writing a book on a cultivation path that was unknown and feared years ago.

So he works through the rumble of his stomach until A-Yuan comes in with Lan Jingyi to drag him to the Dining Hall.

They pass a class where Lan Wangji is teaching. Wei Wuxian very animatedly blows a kiss to him. It’s telling how normal this is because none of the students pause and look behind at him when Lan Wangji pauses midway to stare at him. 

*

Jiang Cheng in the Cloud Recesses kitchen is a sight. Wei Wuxian leans on the wall near the fire and watches his brother unpack all the spices he has brought from Yunmeng. It’s very funny how Jiang heng manages to look angry doing that. Their relationship still feels fragile so Wei Wuxian swallows down the laugh threatening to burst. He’s not very successful because Jiang Cheng glowers at him, “What are you laughing about?”

We Wuxian covers his laugh with a cough. “Aah nothing nothing.” He looks at the various spices laid out along with lotus pods. His chest suddenly feels very tight. “Thank you,” he says in a soft voice.

Jiang Cheng visibly softens at that. “What are you thanking me for.” He tries to sound angry but there is no bite to his words. “This lotus pod is not a snack for you. It’s for the soup.”

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng had not talked after the Guanyin Temple. He had been invited to Wei Wuxian’s wedding through a scroll as a sect leader. He was too scared to assume, didn’t want to impose any brotherly duties to him for the wedding.

Jiang Cheng had arrived in the Cloud Recesses three days later, screaming, “So you think you’re too good for Lotus Pier now. You like the Lan clan so much that you’re just going to forget you’re from the Jiang clan huh. You’re gonna forget your brother too.”

Wei Wuxian had come running out. Jiang Cheng was angry but he also looked hurt. Wei Wuxian could not stop smiling. He hadn’t felt this light even when Lan Zhan had asked him to marry him. He had hugged him and despite all the grumbling Jiang Cheng had hugged him back. If Jiang Cheng wanted to dive headfirst into mending their relationship almost violently, Wei Wuxian would simply follow his lead. There were too many things unspoken between them, too many secrets buried under love and pain. It would be a big job to hold all these secrets now laid bare open. It was a job he was more than willing to take on. He had spent too long feeling like a limb was missing, being reunited with Jiang Cheng was almost enough to cover the pain that Jiang Yanli’s gaping absence left.

Since that day, Wei Wuxian has visited Lotus Pier once every month. It didn’t feel like a home, that was Cloud Recesses, but it did feel like a childhood home. He was so proud of all that Jiang Cheng had achieved, only felt the smallest sadness and guilt that he wasn't there with him for everything. He stayed at his old bedroom there, touched to find that Jiang Cheng had still kept it for him. All his things were in place. Despite all the show of scorn and hatred, Jiang Cheng had believed that Wei Wuxian had been alive, prayed for that. Wei Wuxian doesn’t always burst into tears when he remembers that. But he does sometimes.

And Jiang Cheng visits him at Cloud Recesses every month too. They quickly discovered that Jin Ling liked to accompany Jiang Cheng to Cloud Recesses to shirk off his responsibilities as the sect leader and they were not immune to his silent pleas. So Jiang Cheng in his purple robes is a monthly visitor disrupting the quiet. Wei Wuxian likes it so much. They break enough rules that Lan Qiren stays in his room the entirety of Jiang Cheng’s stay.

They are currently in the kitchen to try to recreate Jiang Yanli’s recipes. It’s another one of their rituals. It hurts too much to think about her. So they do this instead. Add more and more chilli powder, burn spices and try to cut the vegetables in a way that matches hers. It’s also for Jin Ling’s sake. The boy has so many responsibilities on his shoulder already. He deserves to be doted over sometimes. And Wei Wuxian will not rest until he admits that he’s his favourite uncle.

“You’re going to set the spices on fire again!” Jiang Cheng says. 

Wei Wuxian sticks his tongue out but lowers the heat. Setting the Lotus Pier kitchen on fire is okay, almost like a distant memory. But he can’t burn down Cloud Recesses. It’ll be too painful.

“Remember when…” Wei Wuxian starts but stops suddenly.

Maybe Jiang Cheng takes pity on him but by some miracle he continues, “When A-jie made this for you the first time? I am sorry about the dogs.” He sounds sheepish. “But Princess was a little thing, she would have not hurt you,” he adds indignantly. 

“Aiya I have said sorry about the dogs too many times now. I thought I was the one with the bad memory.”

Jiang Cheng elbows his side and they squabble over the right way to cut the vegetables once again. It’s not the same as healing but it is close. Wei Wuxian takes everything he can get and treasures these moments dearly. He knows that he's not going anywhere. This is his life now. But the more animal part of the brain grasps at everything good and clutches tightly lest this shatters like broken glass.

“Hey! Are you listening to me or not? WEI WUXIAN.”

“Jiang Cheng, screaming is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses.” 

“Oh so now you’re a model student. Who knew it would take marrying into the sect to turn you into a somewhat human. Wait, we all knew, with how you used to stare at Lan Wangji all day.”

“Jiang Cheng I’m your shidi, have some respect.”

They dissolve into their usual teasing and it’s so good. The smell from the pot is not the same as Jiang Yanli’s but it’s close. They’re getting close.

*

He’s supposed to be taking sword training sessions for the baby Lans that have yet to develop their golden cores. But Jiang Cheng and he talked until it was dark and then Jiang Cheng had left for his inn at Caiyi. He refuses to stay at Cloud Recesses- “This place gives me the creeps.” he always says. 

Giving sword and archery lessons was not intentional. He used to train with a wooden sword at the same time as the training lessons for the juniors. He could not resist going over to them to try and get some giggles out of the little ones. Children should be laughing and playing. No one stopped him. So he started dropping by their lessons more and more often to not only get them to break their Lan composure but also to add to their lessons.

One day he realized he had actually taken over the poor disciple’s job. They were reluctant to say anything to him and he made their life easier. He was good at teaching, to the smug satisfaction of Lan Wangji and the horror of Lan Qiren. Fighting with Lan Wangji had made him acquainted with the style of the Lan and he added the flair of the Jiang clan while teaching. There were no inherent faults with his teaching methods though they were unconventional. There was technically no rule breaking involved. They made the juniors laugh but also try harder. 

Sometimes while training he sees Lan Wangji in the periphery and knows that he’s smiling. Lan Wangji didn’t have the best childhood. There’s no disapproving glare sent a child’s way when they laugh too loudly or joke. Lan Jingyi is a great example of that. There’s encouraging smiles and gentle nods. The children deserve to be treated like children. They deserve to have a carefree upbringing. So Wei Wuxian tries harder to make them laugh and no one stops him.

*

He misses his students as he makes his way to the jingshi. Mornings make him glow but nights are his favourite.

The jingshi is a warm respite from the cold outside. A disciple has burned a few candles for light and warmth. He starts clearing up the mess on the tables, his mess mostly when A-Yuan slides open the door and enters arms full of dinner.

“A-Yuan!” He still blushes at the name. He’s told him to not call him that with other people present but Wei Wuxian is allowed to say his name in the privacy of the jingshi.

“Wei-qianbei, I have dinner!”

“Thank you! How was meeting Jin Ling today? Is he still grouchy from the last meeting?”

A-Yuan clucks and then blushes profusely, hiding his face while serving the dinner onto three plates. “He’s fine. Better now that you and Sect Leader Jiang are not annoying him. His words, not mine.”

Wei Wuxian laughs. He was never truly A-Yuan’s father at Burial Mounds. Grandma spent the most time with him. He liked to consider him his father but there was a lot of naivety in his thoughts then. Lan Wangji truly is A-Yuan’s father. Right from his posture to the soft way he smiles, he is all of Lan Wangji’s good qualities and more. Friendlier. Lan Xichen has a hand in that, he supposes. But he desperately wants to be his father. He technically is, but there is a lot to that title that he has yet to learn. He didn’t have all the firsts with him, so he tries to make up for lost time now. He wasn’t there for the forehead ribbon ceremony or for his first night hunt but he wants to be here for all that is yet to come. He wishes that it’ll be enough.

The door slides open again and Lan Wangji enters. His face is weary, the meetings must have run long. He has half a mind to send extremely long letters threatening the sect leaders to stop troubling Hanguang-jun. 

“Welcome home Lan Zhan!” he says instead adding a brilliant smile.

It must be otherworldly magic because the tiredness slips away from Lan Wangji’s face and is replaced with a smile. Lan Wangji loves hearing Wei Wuxian call the jingshi home. There is a fear that he’ll turn into his father in the name of love so Wei Wuxian greets him like this everyday. Small reminder that this is Wei Wuxian’s home too and he’s not going anywhere.

“Hello Wei Ying, A-Yuan,” he says in the sweetest voice. Wei Wuxian will never tire of it. He goes straight to shed off an outer robe and remove his head piece, becoming Lan Zhan again. A-Yuan talks about his day now that Lan Wangji is here too. He is trying to fit as much story into words as possible before they start eating and he has to be quiet. It’s very amusing to watch.

Lan Wangji settles at the table. “I’m so glad you had fun.” A-Yuan beams. Fun, he’s so glad fun was encouraged for him. Lan Wangji would never let A-Yuan feel as lonely as he did. Wei Wuxian’s glad he’s here with Lan Wangji now.

“How was your day Wei Ying,” he asks sincerely. Because he does everything sincerely.

They start eating and because he has no qualms about talking while eating, he narrates his day. It’s disgustingly domestic. Wei Wuxian adores it. A-Yuan sitting between them, listening intently, his face mirroring Lan Wangji’s. It’s a scene he once imagined at an inn in Yiling once. And now he gets to have it. Everyday. There aren't enough gods to thank for this fortune.

The dinner is done and then A-Yuan is hurrying off. He’s a teenager, embarrassed by his fathers’ presence. Can’t blame him. 

And then Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are alone in the jingshi again. 

Wei Wuxian scoots closer to Lan Wangji, puts his arms across his neck and gathers him closer to his chest. Lan Wangji goes willingly. “I missed you,” he says. And Lan Wangji, because he’s the nicest person in the world doesn’t say something like ‘You just saw me in the morning.’

He replies, “I missed you too.” and means it. Drops a kiss to Wei Wuxian’s neck, “Let’s go to bed.”

Wei Wuxian hums contentedly. If mornings are tranquil, nights are charged. Maybe that’s why they are his favourites. 

Lan Wangji carries him to bed in his arms because he is the best person. Sheds his outer robes while Wei Wuxian mutters, “Lan Zhan, did you have a good day today? You look tired but also really hot. Is anyone troubling you. I’ll beat them up for you you know. Don’t need Chenqing to beat people up. I have very strong arms, not as strong as Hanguang-jun’s though.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Lan Wangji changes into his sleeping robes. Wei Wuxian’s eyes remain trained on Lan Wangji’s body.

Finally, finally, Lan Wangji comes to lie on top of him. “I really don’t want to talk about those fools now, Wei Ying.” His voice is so low.

Wei Wuxian kisses him. Lan Wangji kisses him back and they dissolve into each other.

Wei Wuxian lies curled around Lan Wangji, an arm thrown over his chest, legs entangled, head resting on the rising chest of his husband while Lan Wangji clings to him too. He kisses his forehead where the ribbon usually lies and settles comfortably. It seems like affection is seeping out of him. He never knew what safe meant till he found himself in Lan Wangji’s arms.Today was a good day. He can’t wait for tomorrow, to see Lan Wangji again. It’ll not be very different from today. Maybe he’ll work with the dizi tomorrow instead of talismans and practice archery with the students tomorrow instead of sword. 

He had deluded himself into thinking that a life travelling is the one he craves because he never wanted to face his true desire. A home, surrounded by his loved ones. Maybe he will travel one day, when Lan Wangji is free of his responsibilities. Even then he will have a home in his husband. For now, this routine is what he wants. He falls asleep in the arms of his love. 

[the-casual-cheesecake]

ITPE 2020

(go here for the audio version of this letter)

Dear podficcer,

First, I love you. Thank you for sharing your voice with the world. Whether I’ve heard it before or not, your presence gives me joy. 

Second, please record something that you enjoy yourself! I’m ecstatic about the prospect of you making something for me, and I will appreciate whatever your choice ends up being.

Third, the good stuff *wiggles eyebrows* listed under the cut is all of the fandoms and characters/ships therein I’d like to receive works for, listed in order of preference: 

CQL/MDZC: 

Preferences for this fandom: Anything. Give me the angst, give me the softness, give me the grief (wow okay, no I REALLY like grief themed fic in this fandom). I’m fine with canon, post canon, alternate canon, or modern AUs (with or without magic).

- Nie Huaisang centric fics

- Nie Huaisang/Any (except Nie Huaisang/Jiang Cheng)

- Nie Mingjue/Lan Xichen/Jin Guangyao

- Xiao Xingchen/Song Lan/Xue Yang

- Nie Mingjue/Jin Guangyao

- Nie Mingjue/Lan Xichen

- Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji

- Lan Wangji & Lan Sizhui

Marvel 616:

Preferences for this fandom: SADNESS. I’m super into these specific runs [Avengers Vol. 5 (2013), New Avengers Vol. 3 (2013), Secret Wars (2015), Civil War (2005), and anything to do with The Illuminati team.] Listen, I just really like crying over those fools. I’m also not into any mundane AUs for it.

- Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

- Victor von Doom/Stephen Strange

- Victor von Doom/Tony Stark

- Victor von Doom centric fic

- T’challa/Namor

- Nathan Summers/Wade Wilson

- Daken/Bullseye

The Magnus Archives:

Preferences for this fandom: This is the horny zone, but also the badwrong zone. I’m not into AUs in this fandom. Give me Manipulation, give me nasty divorces, give me murders, give me misuse of dark-gods-given powers. Just fuck me up. Softness is allowed, but only if it has unseen edges 😈) 

- Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas

- Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims

Hannibal:

Preferences for this fandom: canon or canon divergent fics, post canon is also cool. No AUs. Murder is very appreciated, so is heavy angst. But happy murder husbands is very good also.

- Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham

Sherlock (BBC):

Preferences for this fandom: Anything. Although, I really like obsessive and codependent relationships here. canon, post canon, canon divergent, case fics, unrequited love, or very married johnlock. I do love a sad, devastated Sherlock, so feel free to break my heart. 

- John Watson/Sherlock Holmes

Note for the mods on fandoms I’ve chosen to give but not receive: 

- DC comics:

Preferences for this fandom: No mundane AUs. But I’m happy to record anything else. 

- Tim Drake/Jason Todd

- Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent

James Bond (Skyfall):

Preferences for this fandom: Happy to record Anything.

- James Bond/Q

- James Bond/Alec Trevelyan

-James Bond/Q/Alec Trevelyan.

Squicks and DNW: Non con medical procedures, and mutilation.

E rated fic? heck yeah. If you want to gift it to me, I’m all for it.

Helpful tips: Go to my bookmarks and eenie meenie miney mo if you’re lost. There are a few fics marked as “to podfic” that I would 100% love if someone else got to first.

[boat-full-of-lotus-pods]

MDZS Chapter 103. “A Hatred for Life” Part 6

But that was all a lifetime ago

Sect Leader Jiang’s words were usually laced with sarcasm. Yet this time, and this time only, he wasn’t mocking anyone but himself.

Suddenly, he said, “I’m sorry.”

Wei WuXian froze, then said, “……You don’t have to say sorry.”

After everything that had happened between them, it was impossible to tell who was the one most at fault.

Wei WuXian continued, “Consider it as my repayment to the Jiang Family.”

Jiang Cheng raised his head and stared at him with swollen, bloodshot eyes. He said in a hoarse voice, “……Repaying my father, my mother, my older sister?”

Wei WuXian massaged his own temples and said, “Forget it. It’s all in the past now. Let’s not mention it anymore.”

It wasn’t a subject that Wei WuXian liked to dwell on or reminisce about too much. He didn’t want to be forced to recall the experience of having his core severed from his body while being fully awake. Neither did he want to be forced to remember how grave and heavy of a sacrifice it was.

Had the truth been revealed in his last life, he probably would have consoled Jiang Cheng a little while laughing, saying, ‘It’s not actually that big of a deal. Look, I’ve been without a golden core for so many years and I still survived and got by fine. I can still beat up who I want to beat up, and still kill who I want to kill.’ Now, however, Wei WuXian had no energy left to casually brush the matter aside with an air of effortless generosity and pretend that everything was alright.

Besides, he wasn’t actually so easy-going to begin with.

How could he easily let go of something like this?

It would be impossible.

The seventeen-to-eighteen-year-old Wei WuXian hadn’t been any less proud or competitive than Jiang Cheng. After all, he had been a prodigy once, gifted with exceptional talent. He could fool around all day, break curfew all night, and still perform way ahead of everyone else, including those who’d practiced and studied in earnest all day long.

But whenever these thoughts plagued him during sleepless nights—that he would never again rise to the top using righteous, conventional practices, and that he would never again stun the world with his swordsmanship—he would instead imagine what would happen if Jiang FengMian had never brought him back to the Lotus Pier. Then, he might never have brushed shoulders with cultivation at all. He might never even know of the existence of this mystical, surreal world, and remained a street rat who only knew to run from dogs. Or he might have become a cattle herder who played flutes all day, stealing vegetables to scrape by. Either way, he wouldn’t have been trained in cultivation, and wouldn’t ever have formed a core to start with. Whenever he thought about it this way, he would feel much better.

Just pretend this to be a repayment, or an atonement. Pretend as if he never had the golden core to start with.

Once he’d said these things to himself enough times, he’d actually start to almost feel as unaffected about it as he was pretending to be. He could then even secretly praise himself a little for his at-least-half-genuine magnanimity.

But that was all a lifetime ago.

Wei WuXian said, “Um, you……. don’t have keep reminding yourself. Even though I know that, with your personality, you’ll always remember it, but, how should I put it……”

Tightening his grip on Lan WangJi’s hand, he said to Jiang Cheng, “I honestly feel that…… it’s already in the past now. It’s just been too long. Let’s not get caught up over it anymore.”

Jiang Cheng viciously wiped away his tears. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes.

Just then, Nie HuaiSang slowly rose to consciousness underneath Lan XiChen’s outer robe. Wincing and whining, he reluctantly pushed himself up and asked in a dazed voice, “Where am I?”

Who knew that he would be greeted by the sight of Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi sitting on the same cushion, all plastered on each other, with the Yiling Patriarch just shy of sitting on HanGuang-Jun’s lap? Nie HuaiSang let out a terrified shriek and looked ready to faint again. Simultaneously, a series of strange noises came from the back of the temple, like the whistle of gas leaking. Immediately after, the cultivators digging at the back started screaming.

Everyone’s expression changed at once. A light but sharp and stinging smell drifted to the front of the temple. Lan XiChen raised his sleeve to cover his nose and mouth, consternation knitting his brows. Soon, two figures bumped and limped their way to the front.

Su She was supporting Jin GuangYao. Both of them were ashen-faced. Meanwhile, the back of the temple was still howling with screams. Su She asked, “Sect Leader, are you alright?!”

Beads of cold sweat lingered over Jin GuangYao’s forehead. He replied, “I’m fine. Thank you for earlier.”

His left hand lay limp by his side, trembling, seemingly enduring some tremendous pain. His right hand retrieve a small bottle of medicine from his robes, but found it difficult to open it single-handedly. Seeing this, Su She took the bottle, shook out a pill and placed it in Jin GuangYao’s palm. Lowering his head, Jin GuangYao imbibed the pill. After swallowing, his knitted brows finally relaxed.

Lan XiChen asked after a moment of hesitation, “What happened to you?”

Jin GuangYao froze ever so slightly. Colour at last returned to his face. He forced out a smile. “I was careless.”

He sprinkled some medicinal powder over his left arm. From the back of his hand all the way to his elbow was a red patch of skin. Upon closer inspection, the patch of skin almost looked like cooked meat with the entire skin surface fried and destroyed beyond recognition. Tearing off a corner of his snow-white sleeve with trembling fingers, Jin GuangYao said to Su She, “MianShan, tighten this around my wrist.”

Su She asked, “Is it poisoned?”

Jin GuangYao, “The poison gas is still traveling up my system. But it won’t get in the way. I can force it out of my system after some rest.”

Once Su She finished treating his wound, Jin GuangYao turned to check on the back of the temple. Su She hurriedly volunteered, “Sect Leader, let me!”

As the stinging smell gradually dispersed, Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi stood up together as well. At the back of the temple was a deep hole with a mound of dirt beside it. A delicately crafted, refined coffin laid with another black box on top of it, both of which were already open. Thin, white trails of smoke wafted out from their openings. The stinging smell in the air must have came from the white smoke, no doubt lethally poisonous. Corpses laid all over the floor around the coffin. The cultivators who had laboured for the excavation were now nothing more than cooked, dead meat. Even their robes of Sparks Admist Snow were reduced to blackened, charcoaled pieces, proof of how deathly corrosive the poison truly was.

Jin GuangYao was the first to reach the coffin, dispersing the residual poison in the air with his spiritually charged sword. With the tip of his sword, he flipped over the black box. The metal box crashed to the ground, empty.

Jin GuangYao finally hit his limit. Staggering to the edge of the wooden coffin, the colour that had only just returned to his ashen face moments ago was gone again without a trace. It was easy to deduct from his expression that the coffin was empty too.

Lan XiChen went over. Stunned by the horrid sight at the back of the temple, he exclaimed, “What exactly have you buried here? How did it become like this??”

One glance at the scene was enough for Nie HuaiSang to drop to his knees and start dry-heaving on the ground. Jin GuangYao’s lips trembled but made no sound. A flash of lightning illuminated his ghastly white face. The expression on Jin GuangYao’s face was so terrifying that the sight of it made Nie HuaiSang shudder, and he didn’t dare to make another noise even as he continued to dry-heave. Covering his mouth, Nie HuaiSang retreated behind Lan XiChen. It was hard to tell whether he was shivering from the cold or from fear. Lan XiChen turned to give him a few soothing words. Meanwhile, Jin GuangYao seemed to have no energy left to even bother maintaining his pleasant and courteous attitude anymore.

Wei WuXian said, “ZeWu-Jun, you are being unfair to Sect Leader Jin. Whatever that was here wasn’t buried by him. And even if he were the one who had originally buried it, it was probably swapped by someone else long ago.”

Su She pointed his sword at him and shouted in a harsh voice, “Wei WuXian! Did you have something to do with this?!”

Wei WuXian replied, “I’m not trying to brag here, but if I really was the one behind this, I’m afraid that your sect leader wouldn���t be losing just an arm. Sect Leader Jin, do you still recall that letter at the Koi Tower, the one given to you by Qin Su?”

Jin GuangYao’s gaze slowly moved towards him.

Wei WuXian said, “The one who had told Qin Su about all those nice things that you did was the handmaiden of Madam Qin, Bi Cao. Did you really believe that Bi Cao had just decided to tell her all that, that she wasn’t pushed by someone behind the scenes? And that Maiden Sisi who you’d imprisoned, who was it that really saved her? Who was the one that had told her and Bi Cao to go to the Yunmeng Jin Sect and unveil your secrets in front of everyone? Someone who could investigate your full background and all your secret doings without fail. Is it so hard to believe that he could also have reached here one step ahead of you, swapped what you wanted to unearth with poison, waiting for it to be delivered to you when you got here?”

Just then, a monk said, “Sect Leader, the earth here show traces of having being moved before. Someone had dug a path here from another end!”

Someone had indeed reached here before they did. Turning, Jin GuangYao slammed a fist against the empty coffin. No one could see his expression. They could only see the slight tremor in his shoulders.

Wei WuXian smiled. “Sect Leader Jin, did it ever occurred to you that tonight, you’re not the hunter, but the prey[1]? And that the one who’s been watching you all this time might be right here, right now, watching your every move from a hidden corner. Maybe, it’s possible, that it’s not even human……”

Outside, thunder roared and rain poured. At the words “not even human”, for a fraction of a moment, something akin to fear flashed over Jin GuangYao’s face.

Su She sneered, “Wei WuXian, stop trying to instill fear with your baseless bullshit……”

Jin GuangYao silenced him with a gesture of his right hand. The flash of fear quickly subsided from his face. Every complicated expression became buried once more as Jin GuangYao regained control of his face and said, “Don’t waste time on pointless banter. Tend to your wounds. Once I dispel the poison, we’ll do a headcount of who’s left and head out immediately.”

Su She asked, “Sect Leader, what about the thing that’s been stolen?”

Lips turning pale, Jin GuangYao muttered, “Since it’s already stolen, it’s unlikely we’ll ever find it. It’s unwise to linger here any longer.”

Su She replied, “Yes sir!”

During the messy brawl with Fairy earlier, Su She had been clawed in numerous places. The robes over his arms and chest were all scratched, especially over the chest region. Claw marks deep enough to reach the bone ran over his chest. Blood was stained in bits and patches all over his white robes. If he didn’t tend to his wounds now, they might get worse in the near future. Jin GuangYao retrieved a parcel of medicine from his robes and handed it over to Su She. Receiving the parcel with both hands and a, “Yes,” Su She really did stop arguing with Wei WuXian. Turning, he untied his robes and started tending to his wounds. Jin GuangYao’s poison-seared left arm still wouldn’t respond, and so he could only meditate on the ground to focus on forcing the poison out of his body. The remaining cultivators patrolled back and forth in the temple, carrying their swords and on guard. All the blades flashing within his sight was making Nie HuaiSang’s gaze rigid with fright. Without any personal guards by his side, he didn’t even dare to breathe loudly. Crouching behind Lan XiChen’s back, he sneezed quite a few times.

Wei WuXian thought to himself, ‘Su She never had a nice attitude towards anyone. Even Lan Zhan has him seething with rage. But he’s actually quite respectful towards Jin GuangYao.’

As he was thinking, he couldn’t help but looks towards Lan WangJi. He hadn’t expected to see the cold glare in Lan WangJi’s eyes.  

Lan WangJi said to Su She, voice chilly, “Turn around.”

Su She was busy tending to the clawed marks over his chest with his head lowered and halfway turned away from them. At Lan WangJi’s sudden words and commanding tone, he actually obliged without thinking.

Now that Su She was facing them, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling’s eyes both widened. The smile immediately disappeared from Wei WuXian’s face as well.

He muttered, astonished, “……So it was you!”

-

Footnotes:

[1]: You’re not the hunter but the prey: The original phrase in Chinese was along the lines of “you are the mantis tonight, not the finch”