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enbyleighlines · 3 years ago

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In honor of pride month aka Hanguang June (god I love that, who came up with that clever pun?) I want to talk more about Lan Wangji’s internalized homophobia, and the outside factors that created it.

I think it’s not as apparent in the novel as, say, the homophobia that Wei Wuxian deals with while he’s within Mo Xuanyu’s body, but it’s still no doubt a big part of Lan Wangji’s character and story. We know that they live in a homophobic world. We know because of how Mo Xuanyu is treated, how Jin Ling calls homosexuality an “incurable disease”, how gay public displays of affection are criminalized, and so on and so forth.

We don’t know exactly how homophobic the Gusu Lan Sect is, but we do know that they are traditional and misogynistic, and while that does not prove that they are homophobic, it certainly does suggest it. There are also the rules forbidding promiscuity and debauchery, while may or may not include homosexuality.

We DO know that Lan Xichen, at the very least, is highly supportive of his brother. He is so supportive, in fact, that he apparently gossips with Jin Guangyao about Lan Wangji’s romantic life, as revealed in the Guanyin Temple confrontation. But that does not tell us whether Lan Xichen is an example of his Sect’s views, or an outlier. At one point, Lan Jingyi does say, “Hanguang-jun isn’t a cutsleeve!” which seems to suggest that Lan Wangji’s homosexuality is kept a secret, and that Jingyi, at least, has a certain view of gay men which is incompatible with Lan Wangji.

Things are further complicated by the fact that while Lan Qiren heavily disapproves of Lan Wangji’s relationship with Wei Wuxian, it’s unclear whether homophobia plays any part in it, or if Lan Qiren just hates Wei Wuxian himself.

All of that aside, I think it’s important to note that large elements of Lan Wangji’s character are 1. his inability to ask for what he wants, and 2. the suppression of his own feelings. He is already made to feel like his romantic feelings for Wei Wuxian are wrong on account of Wei Wuxian basically being the physical embodiment of everything the Gusu Lan Sect stands against, as well as the fear of becoming his father, but I think that there is also a large amount of internalized homophobia at play.

When they’re still teenagers, a lot of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian’s interactions include Wei Wuxian teasing Lan Wangji in a manner which assumes that Lan Wangji is heterosexual. Wei Wuxian invites Lan Wangji to Lotus Pier by saying how beautiful the women of Lotus Pier are. He talks about how Lan Wangji will put women off with his cold demeanor. And then there is everything that happens with Mian Mian. These are the moments which really trigger Lan Wangji’s temper. And there is that moment where Lan Wangji accepts an even harsher punishment than Wei Wuxian, for something that isn’t even Lan Wangji’s fault, as if he’s carrying a great deal of shame within himself.

There is also the fact that Lan Wangji is so isolated as a teenager. He has no friends, and he keeps to himself. Lan Wangji is clearly different from his peers. At first, this is framed as a positive thing. He is better than his peers, more dedicated to the Gusu Lan Sect’s teachings, more mature, more disciplined, etc. But it also makes him quite the lonely figure.

That’s what makes it so heartening to see him after the 13 year gap. He is not super social, but he has the admiration and the respect of the juniors. He invites them into his rabbit field. He invites the round-faced girl in the early chapters to join the Gusu Lan Sect. He is known far and wide for being wherever he is needed, no matter how insignificant the case. Lan Wangji has developed a profound confidence in himself, which allows him to tell the juniors to take Wei Wuxian as Mo Xuanyu right to his personal quarters, despite knowing that Mo Xuanyu was known as a sex-craved cutsleeve. Lan Wangji no longer flinches at Wei Wuxian’s playful flirting. He is a man who has accepted himself, wholly and fully.

And then there’s the rabbit symbolism. In the beginning, Lan Wangji rejects the rabbits that Wei Wuxian brings him. As many people already know, rabbits are commonly associated with gay men in China, due to the fact that there is a Rabbit God that is also known for being the guardian of homosexual love. But after the 13 year gap, Lan Wangji has an entire army of rabbits. He keeps them despite the rule forbidding pets. One could interpret this as a metaphor of him accepting his own homosexuality, despite the social pressure from his Sect.

I think that’s part of the reason why Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian felt the need to elope. (Aside from, of course, not wanting to wait a second longer.) We know from the confession during the Guanyin Temple scene that they have no problem being publicly affectionate. They embrace and kiss and exchange passionate words of love in front of their friends and family. Hell, Wei Wuxian spends a large majority of the time sitting in Lan Wangji’s lap. They would have no problem with a public wedding... but I doubt that option would have been available for them. So they do their vows in private, and return to Gusu as husbands. It’s Lan Wangji’s way of skirting around another rule. The two of them can be as promiscuous as they please. They’re married, after all.

That’s also why it’s such a big deal when the Gusu Lan Sect allows Wei Wuxian to join the banquet in the extra chapters. This is the Gusu Lan Sect accepting their marriage as legitimate. It is an unexpected but happy surprise for them.

Lan Wangji goes through so much in the story, but in the end, he choses to be unapologetic about his emotions, and it not only transforms him, but the world around him. Lan Jingyi, who at the beginning refused to believe that Lan Wangji could be gay, starts lowkey shipping WangXian by the Yi City Arc. Jin Ling, who called homosexuality an incurable disease, eventually gives WangXian some awkwardly worded but sincere blessings. The strict and traditionalist Gusu Lan Sect comes to accept Wei Wuxian as Lan Wangji’s spouse.

I just... I just love Lan Wangji so much.

#mo dao zu shi #lan wangji #hanguang june

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Getting Bored - part 3 - ao3 - tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Perhaps it was merely the competent coordinator in him, but Jin Guangyao truly appreciated clever schemes working out exactly as planned, even if he was the one being schemed against.

It didn’t count when it was a matter of chance, like Nie Mingjue finding him in the middle of committing a murder – that was his own fault for not paying better attention, not planning better, and to a certain degree simply his bad luck – but rather, when there was a deliberate effort to set up the circumstances in such a way as to leave an enemy with no retreat and no way out but to react exactly as you wish…

Beautiful.

Annoying, of course, when it interfered with his own plans. But a pleasure to observe nonetheless.

Sadly, his father did not take such things as calmly as he did.

By this point, Jin Guangyao was able to repress his flinch at the sound of something expensive breaking as it was thrown against the wall.

“Motherless bastard, son of a whore!” Jin Guangshan hissed, and it was only the fact that he was glaring out the window of the inn they were staying at in Yiling that let Jin Guangyao conclude that he was not referring to himself. “How dare he pull a thing like his – and at Yiling, no less? The sheer gall of it –”

The gall, Jin Guangyao presumed, was in outwitting Jin Guangshan and outdoing the Jin sect at their own game. It had to be that, because in all other respects it was a masterful stroke: the Yiling Patriarch implicitly realigning himself with the Jiang sect by acting in the role of Jiang Cheng’s shixiong in hosting the announcement of the marriage between Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng, the Nie sect’s agreement with that location representing their endorsement of Wei Wuxian’s return to the cultivation world and the end of the ostracization the Jin sect had worked so hard to accomplish, while the marriage itself represented the formation of an iron-solid alliance between the Nie and Jiang sects that in a single stroke rendered the Jin-Jiang marriage alliance null – since after all, Jiang Cheng would be bound to put his husband’s requests above those of what, in the end, was merely a married-out sister.

(The fact that Jiang Cheng adored his sister unreasonably and wasn’t the sort to listen to husbandly authority was irrelevant. Jin Guangyao might be smart enough to use that, but Jin Guangshan wasn’t.)

Or perhaps what truly galled Jin Guangshan was how, while they had all been absorbing the implications of the news they had received along with the invitation, Jin Zixuan had loudly – and publicly – exclaimed that it was wonderful, joyous news and that he wished Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue a long and happy life together.

Obviously, that would have had to be the public response regardless, but there were ways of saying it and there were ways of saying it. Jin Zixuan’s exclamation hadn’t allowed for any nuance or implication or rumor-mongering, nothing that they could have done to salvage the situation and try to use it as another way to strengthen their sect by weakening the others.

They could have implied that this union in fact represented Nie Mingjue’s hot-headed impulsiveness, even irrationality, hinted at unspoken but well-known things about Nie Mingjue’s longevity and mental state – suggested that Jiang Cheng was trying to take advantage of those things, marrying himself off for a political benefit while only counting a few years in cost…but it was no point in thinking of those things now.

Now, thanks to Jin Zixuan, the only thing they could do was come to this little inn in Yiling and grit their teeth and smile, their lips full of well-wishes they didn’t mean in the slightest.

Moreover, while Jin Guangshan saw the entire thing as little more than an exercise in frustration in his proper heir, who he believed to be too noble and chivalrous to think of the implications before he spoke, Jin Guangyao had seen the faint smile on Jin Zixuan’s face right before he’d spoken, and the expression on his face upon hearing the news hadn’t been surprise.

He’d known, and judging by the pleased but not shocked expression on Mistress Jiang’s face, the source of his knowledge was clear. Jin Zixuan had known, and he’d spoken deliberately; he’d locked his sect into expressing only joy at the union, undermining all their plans, and he’d done it on purpose.

Jin Guangyao was dying to know how Nie Mingjue had arranged that.

Because he had, of course. Jin Guangyao had immediately quizzed his contacts at the Lotus Pier, and they all confirmed that the marriage wasn’t anything as pedestrian as a mere love match – Nie Mingjue had explicitly proposed on the basis of mutual benefit for their sects, and Jiang Cheng had accepted on those self-same grounds. He had even announced it to his sect in that fashion, explaining some of the benefits he believed the arrangements would bring to the Lotus Pier and assuring them that he would never forsake their interests even as he planned to spend at least one month in every three at Qinghe.

If it had been a love match, Jin Guangyao wouldn’t have been that impressed. It didn’t take a genius to fall in love and luck out into a political move that shook the world, especially since Nie Mingjue’s luck had always been irritatingly good, but to deliberately plan and execute such a move – not only the alliance itself, but to also use the arrangement as an excuse to get the Yiling Patriarch and all his tricks and toys onto the side of the Nie sect when days before he had been an enemy to all the world – to use Wei Wuxian in turn to obtain instant approval from the Lan sect, given Lan Wangji’s inexplicable fondness for the man and Lan Xichen’s desire to please his brother – to even use Jiang Cheng’s connection to Jin Zixuan to undermine the Jin sect’s ability to fight back – to do it all at once –

Beautiful. Truly beautiful.

He hadn’t thought Nie Mingjue had it in him, to be honest.

All that talk about honor and doing the right thing and all that – he’d long assumed that it was mere naïveté, the mind of a child in the body of a man trying to play at politics, that Nie Mingjue was a blunt instrument good only for war. In such circumstances, especially with what happened between them in the past, it was only reasonable for Jin Guangyao to break with him fully and support his father instead.

But now that he knew that Nie Mingjue was actually capable of such a clever ploy…

Jin Guangyao watched without expression as his father continued to break his own things in his impotent anger, like a toddler having a tantrum that wouldn’t change anyone’s decisions one bit.

Perhaps it was time to start reconsidering which horse he was backing in this race.

Jiang Cheng hadn’t expected Wei Wuxian to have such a passion for planning his wedding, although in retrospect he really should have. After all, they’d always schemed together as children about the sort of wonderful grandiose wedding they were going to ensure that Jiang Yanli would have, and yet when the time came it had not been possible to include Wei Wuxian in the actual wedding planning or even execution.

He was clearly getting his feelings out about all of that by insisting on micromanaging every possible aspect of this wedding.

Since Jiang Cheng didn’t actually have the patience or interest to argue with the merchants regarding the exact shade of the streamers to be used to decorate the Lotus Pier, he was happy to let Wei Wuxian run wild with it.

He’d worried a little a first – Wei Wuxian was still the Yiling Patriarch, after all, feared and loathed by all – but bizarrely enough everyone seemed to be taking his return to the cultivation world in stride, as if they’d all collectively forgotten that they’d forced Jiang Cheng to expel him from the Jiang sect less than a year before. He’d even heard some of the smaller sect leaders arguing that as adherents to the Jiang sect, they ought to get first access when Wei Wuxian started selling genuine versions of some of his new inventions.

On the basis of Wei Wuxian’s close connection to the sect that had raised him, no less!

Maybe it was only that it was very hard to be afraid of man shouting about how the mandarin ducks in Jiang Cheng’s wedding robes had to be sewn in proper gold thread, none of this half-assed yellow business, didn’t they know that Jiang Cheng had a complexion that would be faded out by yellow?

Still, with that worry settled, Jiang Cheng had very happily allowed Wei Wuxian to use his wedding as a means of reintroducing himself to the cultivation world and settling back into something vaguely resembling his original role as Jiang Cheng’s shixiong – no longer part of the same sect, unfortunately, not the Twin Heroes he’d hoped for when he was younger, but so much better than the unthinkable alternative that he wasn’t angry, only grateful.

Of course, there were some aspects of the wedding preparation that Wei Wuxian couldn’t help with.

Jiang Cheng’s face burned as he looked down at the books on his desk, both the ones he’d already reviewed and the (much larger) pile of books still to go, as well as the study guide he’d been writing for himself on the side. He’d had to steel his spine and ask Nie Huaisang for them, but luckily Nie Huaisang – who was enjoying spectating the wedding planning, since what he was doing couldn’t really be considered helping – had been, as always, a reliable source for such things.

Such…pictures.

Jiang Cheng was getting married, after all, and it wasn’t as though he’d had the mechanics of how cutsleeves did things explained to him during that extremely awkward conversation in his early teens about how babies were made. That talk had been traumatizing enough that he’d properly refrained from doing anything at all with anyone, much less another man, and as a result he had to try to figure things out from the beginning.

It was possible that Nie Mingjue was more educated in such matters than he, and would be able to act as a guide for him, but the idea of making some sort of amateur mistake made Jiang Cheng’s skin crawl. He wasn’t the genius Wei Wuxian was, confident in getting everything right the first time he tried no matter how unprepared he was.

Studying up in advance was the only solution.

Even if it did make his face hot and his breath come too fast and require occasional breaks from the work to go walk around the Lotus Pier until his heart rate came down to something more normal.

(Jiang Cheng secretly suspected that he didn’t feel desire the way other people did – he’d never looked at a person and gone oh yes I like the look of that the way it usually got described, never granted anyone more favors because they were pretty, never felt like he was missing out on something by not having someone in his bed – but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy getting off. In theory, having someone to assist with that would be even better, and he...didn’t know what to do with that.)

Gritting his teeth, Jiang Cheng picked up another book. Not pictures this time, he noted to his relief, although he’d found that some of the narrative texts managed to be even filthier than the explicit images, all implication and suggestion and no wrong faces to get in the way of him imagining himself in that position.

This book, though, started pretty slow. It was well-written, taking the time to flesh out the characters and actually throw in a bit of plot to keep the background from being too boring, though of course the focus remained on the two main characters getting closer together – which they did slowly and cautiously, rather than jumping straight into bed together the way it was in most such books. There was a lot more emphasis on kissing and on their general reticence and growing familiarity around each other, perfectly reasonable given that the characters weren’t that close to each other to start with.

It was a nice change, obviously much more applicable to the situation that he and Nie Mingjue were in than in some of the other books where there was nothing but smut, and Jiang Cheng found himself reading it quite avidly, wanting to find out what happened next, and it wasn’t until he was nearly three-quarters of the way through and the first spring scene had actually cut out before describing the actual contents of the relevant activity that he abruptly realized that the stupid book wasn’t pornography at all, but a romance.

He scowled at the book, which was good enough to finish anyway but still, what a waste of time! Why had Nie Huaisang put this in with the rest of them?

After all, Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue weren’t in a romance – this was a political arrangement, not a love-match. It was all hard-nosed logical decision-making, cost-benefit analysis. Emotions didn’t play a role in it at all, and that was just how Jiang Cheng wanted it, given the mess emotions had made of his parents’ marriage.

Sure, Jiang Cheng enjoyed Nie Mingjue’s company. He found the man interesting and engaging, and enjoyed being around him regardless of whether they were actively doing something or merely sitting in a comfortable shared silence.

Sure, kissing him made Jiang Cheng’s heart race and his face go red, while embracing him made him feel warm. The thought of going to bed with him filled Jiang Cheng with anticipation rather than revulsion – he still didn’t look at Nie Mingjue and break him down into pieces, thinking nice legs or good ass or anything like that, but he thought he could enjoy touching him and being touched in return, and imagining it with him was far more interesting than imagining it with anyone else.

And, yes, sure, it was a bit like that character in the book had put it, that being with him was better than being without him, and being without him felt lonely as it never had before –

…wait.

Wait.

Oh, shit.

“So, I think I might have messed something up,” Jiang Cheng said, bursting into the room that set aside to be Nie Mingjue’s office during the time he would spend at the Lotus Pier, since with it being one month out of three there was bound to be days when they had to deal with confidential sect business that the other couldn’t be involved in. He looked as if he had run the entire way.

Nie Mingjue pushed his papers away. “Is someone dead or imminently dying? Are we going to war?”

Jiang Cheng paused and frowned, distracted from his panic. “No, it’s not that sort of problem.”

“Then there’s time left to fix it,” Nie Mingjue said. Death was irreversible, war was catastrophic, everything else was negotiable – or stab-able. The Nie sect was a very practical sect. “Sit down and tell me what happened from the beginning.”

Jiang Cheng looked relieved at receiving clear instructions, something Nie Mingjue had noticed from early on – it seemed to help his anxiety to know that there was someone keeping their head. Ironically enough, Jiang Cheng himself was excellent at keeping his own head in front of the sort of injustice that sent Nie Mingjue out of his mind with rage; he immediately defaulted to planning on what to do, which in turn calmed Nie Mingjue down.

They were really a very good match, he thought to himself, pleased; it was just as he’d suspected – or, perhaps more accurately, hoped.

Jiang Cheng sat down. “Okay,” he said. “Right. I messed up –”

“Non-fatally.”

“…yes, non-fatally. But I still did mess up, and it involves you.”

Nie Mingjue arched his eyebrows.

“I understand that our marriage is an arrangement designed to better both our sects,” Jiang Cheng said. He was now staring fixedly at the wall a little over Nie Mingjue’s head. “But I appear to have developed…feelings.”

Nie Mingjue managed not to flinch, primarily out of years of practice of attending truly gruesomely awful discussion conferences.

That was a disappointment, especially as things had seemed to be going so well. It had always been a risk, he supposed, and one he knew to prepare himself for, although it did come as something of a surprise – especially this late in the process. Nie Mingjue hadn’t seen anyone around Jiang Cheng that he thought might be a likely person for it.

“For whom?” he asked, remaining calm. If the person was inaccessible, or someone who might be joined into the marriage, then the deal was still salvageable – certainly his father hadn’t complained – but if this was a sticking point…

Jiang Cheng blinked at him owlishly. “What? What do you mean for who? For you, obviously!”

Now it was Nie Mingjue’s turn to blink. His heart turned over in his chest, abruptly twisting the sting of disappointment into the pleasure of a nice surprise, but mostly what he felt was confusion.

“Okay,” he said, scowling a little, “what’s the problem, then?”

Jiang Cheng looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “That is the problem! It’s one thing entirely to make an agreeable business decision with someone you like well enough, friends can do anything, but it’s not exactly the sort of feeling you get for friends.”

“We’re…going to be married, though?”

“Yes! Exactly! Feelings in a marriage lead to jealousy, jealousy leads to stupid irrational behavior, which leads to resentment, which poisons the entire relationship –”

“A-Cheng,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling as though he might be allowed. “Marriages are supposed to cultivate feelings.”

Jiang Cheng frowned.

“Not everyone is your parents. Most people, in fact. You reach an agreement with someone you respect, you marry, you put in the work necessary to turn that respect into feelings you can use to base a lifetime together on – what do you think all that practice we’ve been doing is the foundation for?”

“But…”

“Jealousy doesn’t necessarily lead to resentment,” Nie Mingjue explained. “As long as the feelings are reciprocated, a little jealousy can be – not a problem.”

Sometimes very much not a problem, not that Nie Mingjue personally suffered from that taste.

(He was not going to explain the details of his own parents’ relationship, however useful an example it might be in this context. If Jiang Cheng wanted an explanation of how people could end up eroticizing jealousy and sexual possessiveness to the point that watching their beloved implicitly reject them in favor of another went from being distressing to exciting, he could ask Nie Huaisang about it.)

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng said, and looked relieved.

He wasn’t the only one.

“How did this come up, anyway?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“Oh, I was reading a book,” Jiang Cheng said, and for some reason he flushed a little. “It depicted a romance that reminded me of how you and I interact, and my feelings on the subject, and, well…”

“What book?”

Jiang Cheng pulled the book out of his sleeve – it was one of Nie Huaisang’s favorite romance novels, Nie Mingjue could identify it on sight based on how many times he’d seen his brother flipping through it and sighing – and tried to offer it over, only when he did another book that had somehow gotten stuck up to the back of the first one fell down to the floor, landing on its spine and falling open.

The page it fell open to was illustrated. Vividly.

There was a moment in which they both stared down at it.

Nie Mingjue pressed his lips together to keep from laughing, and Jiang Cheng turned beet red and leapt to his feet and started stammering something about making a study guide to avoid embarrassing himself and not to pay any attention to it and anyway it was all Nie Huaisang’s fault – Nie Mingjue believed that one immediately – and anyway the only reason it’d fallen to that particular page was because he was convinced that it wasn’t even possible –

“No, that one’s possible,” Nie Mingjue said, standing up as well. “You just need support – look, see, if I lift you up against the wall like this –”

He demonstrated.

“– and you put your legs like so, it all works out just fine. Entirely plausible.”

Jiang Cheng’s mouth was slightly agape, his breath coming a bit quickly; his cheeks were still a lovely shade of pink, and Nie Mingjue could tell fairly easily that Jiang Cheng’s attempted explanation about the reason he had been lingering on that particular page was a lie.

“Oh,” he said, “and I like you, too. Just so you know.”

Jiang Cheng smiled.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #getting bored #mingcheng

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randomleafoflove · 2 years ago

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Lan Wangji’s point of view of Wén Wuxian and the year during lectures.

Unlike what Wén Wuxian thought, Wangji was not a repeat student of shufu’s lectures.

It was sect policy that main family disciples do not attend the lectures early (or late), but with their age group. That is, the lectures that have more prominent disciples from other sect during the two years they are eligible between the ages fifteen and seventeen. This policy allowed Nie Huaisang a repeat year without damaging his reputation (too much). In polite society, his failure the first year was ascribed to being too young for the lectures.

But while Wangji had not sat in on shufu’s lectures, he had read the material covered during the lectures.

Honestly speaking, Wangji had not paid Wén Wuxian any more mind than any other guest disciple (even if he was a Wēn) until he’d argued with shufu about the proper method of dealing with resentful ghosts and been punished for it.

And then the irreverence he showed when talking about the rules he copied under Wangji’s watchful eye. Like the rules weren’t there for a reason!

It seemed like Wén Wuxian was just like his disrespectful Wēn sect compatriots.

Then he painted Wangji a picture, a portrait of Wangji himself. For some reason, receiving it made his heart beat fast. And instead of leaving it crumbled in the wastepaper basket to be burned, he smuggled it to Jingshi, smoothed it out, dated and wrote down who’d painted it, and put it in the same flat box as the small paintings his a-niang had sometimes slipped him. When he was a child, Wangji hadn’t known to date his mother’s paintings, but when he was ten, he’d written his mother’s name in the back. They were a small reminder that his mother had existed outside the anonymity of Madam Lan, wife of Qinghen-jun, mother of Lan Huan, Xichen, and Lan Zhan, Wangji.

Wangji didn’t think further on it, even if he found himself watching Wén Wuxian much more often, offering aid to a young widow in Caiyi, across their shared table in the library, when he was so lost in thought he forgot where he was.

It was getting harder to ignore Wén Wuxian and walk away when he called Lan Zhan! in that excited way of his. But he was a Wēn, and xiongzhang had said that Wēn Ruohan had been acting aggressively lately, taking over the smaller sects around Qishan. Xiongzhang had said Wén Wuxian was likely a spy. The servant who cleaned the guest disciple dorms had found a weird talisman outside Wén Wuxian’s door. She’d copied it, and the copy had been give to the talisman master of the Lan sect to analyze. He couldn’t give a definite answer as to what it did, other than spout out a number.

Giving him bunnies (his favorite animal) because he hadn’t expressed his opinion on animals had been a coincidence. Giving him black and white cutsleeve bunnies could not be a coincidence. (The Lan guest disciple uniform may have been white, but Wén Wuxian always wore a long, black, sleeveless robe over them.) It made him wonder if maybe Wén Wuxian actually meant it when he called Wangji beautiful and pretty and cute and handsome. It was nothing he’d never heard before, even if Wén Wuxian was the first to say it to his face.

Wén Wuxian, for better or for worse (probably worse, said shufu’s disapproving voice in his head), was his… something. Had he been anyone but a Wēn, he’d have at least allowed himself admit his fascination with the other boy, and probably had xiongzhang’s approval, but Wén Wuxian was a Wēn. Wangji was resigned to rooting out his feelings for him (after the lectures, please let him enjoy the strange warmth he felt whenever Wén Wuxian smiled at him until the end of lectures, he’ll go back to only feeling filial love and filial piety for his family, he promises). Xiongzhang didn’t approve of Wén Wuxian, shufu even less so. But they hadn’t seen Wén Wuxian playing with bunnies or argue passionately for women’s right for self-governance.

Wangji remembered reading the law books Wén Wuxian had collected for their references for the essay shufu assigned for while he was away. He remembered connecting the dots with the laws and his a-niang.

Sometimes he wondered if his a-niang had come back as a ghost and the elders had just exterminated her spirit, to keep anyone from figuring out what had actually happened.

Because Wén Wuxian had him questioning the narrative he’d been told time and again as a child: a-niang was a bad woman because she’d murdered one of their senior teachers.

Even if it all had culminated in a-niang killing one of the Lan sect’s senior teachers, what were the circumstances leading to it? The woman he remembered wouldn’t have killed anyone without reason.

There was a disconnect between the laws of the land and the morality Wangji had been taught. For example, rape, while morally reprehensible, was only punishable if the victim was of a higher social standing, while those of “equal” and lower standing got maybe a slap on the wrist or suffered no consequences. But women were never equal to men in the eyes of the law. And if there were reparations made, they were made to the woman’s familial guardian to make up for the woman’s lower value on the marriage market. The only exception was the rape of a Buddhist nun, which always lead to execution, at least on paper. Wangji was learning nothing was as simple as the books and sect rules made it seem.

During their bunny filled afternoons, Wén Wuxian would pose Wangji moral dilemmas and then they’d debate about the proper answer. The first one had been a hypothetical about a poor man with a sick child stealing medicine from a wealthy apothecary. The following one had been about ladies of the night. Then preemptive punishment.

Wén Wuxian had thoughtful answers for each of his own questions, and eventually explained that they were questions his shijie had asked him over the years of his studies.

Wēn Xiachen was a frequent character in Wén Wuxian’s stories, filling the role of mother, sister and teacher all at once, and if he was to be believed, was an incarnation of Guanyin.

Shufu and xiongzhang’s opinion on Wēn Xiachen couldn’t have been more different, describing her as ruthless and cold, deadly with a sword and accurate in her archery. Polite, yes, but frostily so. Which was better than her brothers Wēn Xu and Wēn Chao, who were barely within the parameters of good manners, but less amiable than Wēn Qing, Wēn Ruohan’s medical genius niece and an all around pleasant if reserved individual.

And after all this, Wén Wuxian had the nerve to earnestly make a promise to stand with justice and live without regrets, all the while looking like Wangji’s spring dreams come to life. And then turn around and ask Wangji to spend the evening alone with him on a picnic watching the lanterns journey up and away. How was Wangji supposed to say no?

Shufu saw them and decided to assign Wangji more work. Not punishment, just involving him more in the running of the sect.

Wangji saw Wén Wuxian mainly at the lectures and the occasional free afternoon. His free time was eaten away even more by his self-assigned punishment for his lustful thoughts and frequent spring dreams featuring the other boy.

Winter brought new challenges, like Wén Wuxian’s pink nose and red cheeks.

Then it was over. Spring festival over and done with, closing ceremony had been held, the guest disciples were packed and departing in droves.

Wén Wuxian was one of the early departures because of the length of his journey. He had given Wangji one last painting and a wistful smile and flown off.

Wangji announced his desire to enter secluded meditation.

It was time to root out his feeling for Wén Wuxian.

Dedicating his life for his sect was enough for shufu. Surely it’d be enough for him too?

#mo dao zu shi #grand master of demonic cultivation #fanfic #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wen wuxian #cloud recesses #morality vs law #owe it all 'verse

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