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guqin-and-flute · 7 months ago

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Holding Me Holding You–Ch. 7 [3zun Raise Jingyi Prequel]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

[Ao3 Link]

[Holy shit, how has it been 2 years since I last updated this fic?? ANYWAY HELLO HI I MISSED YOU. We're keeping the baby, guys. CW: Disjointed, slightly nonlinear narration; negative self talk; more talk of battle aftermath, bodies (gross but no more graphic than prev chapters), and death; focus on lots of trauma to do with death and grief; general Twin Jade parental trauma; vaguest mention of child death, in that he repeatedly tells himself there isn't one and remembers part of his nightmare about Wangji/A-Fu dying]

Who are you?

‘Wen Baiqi.’

What must be done for you to rest?

‘Say goodbye. Tell her goodbye.’

It’s raining in Qishan. It’s nothing like the rain in Gusu.

Who are you?

‘Hei Xuecen.’

What must be done for you to rest?

‘All my fault all my fault ALL MY FAULT--’

This rain isn’t crisp, but disconcertingly warm. It doesn't bring life. It soaks into the ground, milling the dirt back into the blood and gore bloated mud of that night, sucking at their feet. Reeking of putrefaction. It coats Xichen’s tongue and throat.

Who are you?

Each time, there is a chance he will receive a reply from the Yiling Patriarch himself.

‘Ye Qian.’

He never does.

What must be done for you to rest?

‘Never apologized--’

What would he do if he did?

Who are you?

What would Zewu-jun do? Clan Leader Lan?

What must be done?

Would he soothe his spirit?

Who are you?

Ghostly fingers pluck at his sleeves constantly.

Who are you?

‘Nie Zixing. Never knew him, tell them--’

When he had first arrived, the bodies of Wei Wuxian’s Wen contingent still hung from the gate to the battleground. Or what remained of them. After scavengers, time, and the elements had had their turn. Swaying in the warm, wet breeze along with carrion birds’ cries and the distant tunes of the guqin language. Grisly pendulums. Dripping.

There is no small boy among them. He had hoped against hope, but now he knew for sure. This secret is tucked deep, deep down beneath his heart.

Who are you?

The corpses on the ground are Wen. They are Lan. They are strangers. They are Da-ge, lying bloody on the floor of the Scorching Sun Palace. They are A-Zhan.

"We should burn them like they did to our people. Scatter their ashes, so they will never rest." A venomous whisper from his own disciples, a young man, face twisted in rage.

(“They’re killing everyone,” he had choked his sobs into A-Yao’s arms. “My people--my family are all dead and I did nothing.”)

A-Yuan had been so, so pale against the sheets. So tiny compared to the infirmary bed.

“These people?" Xichen’s voice is quiet. "These cultivators that studied healing? Miles and miles from Qishan?”

Silence.

“Did they destroy our home? Did we fight them in Sunshot?”

Too little, far too late.

There is no small boy among them. There isn’t.

A-Zhan, gray and slack, eyes glassy, head lolling--

He pushes the dream-memory away.

Who are you?

‘Jin Mingni.

My father--’

"We will bury them and hold the proper rites, as we have the rest of the fallen. And I will ask you to swear yourselves to secrecy regarding their exact resting place. In case anyone later shares your thinking.”

‘Zhou Sanniang. Never wanted to come. Save me.’

“Help me bring them down.”

There may be no small boy among the Wen, but he sees corpses all day, every day. They're in his dreams. He cannot stop seeing them. And he cannot stop seeing a boy (Afuyuanzhan) among them, from the corner of his eye.

He can never quite catch the face before he realizes there is no one actually there.

A skeletal hand is unearthed when they lift a body--a remnant of the Sunshot Campaign, years before. There were plenty of partial skeletons from that time that the Yiling Patriarch had raised to fight them. It seems some didn't have the strength to fight their way out from the mud. The death here has layers. A slow growing mountain of violence and dead and blood instead of stone. The building of the Burial Mounds’ successor.

Do the Burial Mounds have as many crows? Is it a feasting ground, as this has become?

They carry the quiescent dead, cover them with cloth, lay them in rows. Those whose spirits have passed on easily. They lie with their Sect members--when they are able to discern who they are. Still, fields of undyed cloth mounds, waiting to be retrieved by their loved ones, if they still live. Somewhere out there, there must be people still alive, families whole and happy, living in the sunshine. Somewhere.

Who are you?

His fingertips bleed from days playing Linhai and Liebing.

What must be done for you to rest?

Even those here that are living shamble like the dead--the rogue cultivators, his Lan disciples, the handful cultivators from other Sects, all here for the same goal, all hollow eyed and pale. He is supposed to be here for morale.

They work deep into the night, far from familiar, ingrained rules about schedule and tidiness, here. Adrift.

What must be done--?

The fierce corpse is not a powerful one, merely tenacious. Shuoyue snakes out. It crumples immediately with a muted splurch into the muck, halved.

‘Tell her I loved--’

The top half of the corpse writhes, still scrabbling for him. The sound it makes from its ruined face is horrid. It's a wonder it can sense his yang qi at all; no eyes, no nose. Its robes are a splotchy black and rusty brown-red, but the Lan ribbon around its forehead manages to show a ragged white through it, here and there.

The talisman sears, blinding. It is enough. The body slumps for the last time. He can settle into that mud, summon Linhai from his qiankun bag for the Songs of Rest.

Who are you?

‘Lan Ruicai.

Show them all--’

The blood of the walking dead is no longer life-hot, but the same, unnerving lukewarm as the rain. He cannot feel it. He can’t tell where it’s stained him until he reaches his tent each night.

He is efficient. He is in control.

The rain here doesn't cleanse anything. It hasn’t stopped for days.

Everything is the same color; the sludge, the thick haze of lingering resentful energy, palms, boots, the hems and knees of robes. That old clotted wound color. Dirt repelling talismans can only do so much before they are overpowered by the sheer weight of yin energy permeating everything. Stained.

There's no use cleaning. He tries anyway.

‘I was so scared, so scared--’

Who are you?

Sometimes, the spirits do not answer. Sometimes, they speak first, before he can even start the questions, raking the strings repeatedly in their anguish. Sometimes, they try to tear the guqin from him, try to rend his clothes, squeeze his throat. Sometimes, banishment is the only way.

The sudden shrieks and roars at night startle everyone from sleep. If Wangji was well, he would be here. He is known for going where the chaos is.

Is that what had led him to this? To Wei Wuxian? An affinity for soothing chaos? For chaos itself?

Who are you?

‘Don’t know. Want to go home--’

"I can't anymore, zongzhu, I-I--"

"It's alright. Return to the Cloud Recesses. You’ve done enough."

Sometimes, he wakes in the night to find that he is in the middle of dressing, having no memory of doing so, a clump of cleansing talismans clutched in his numb hands. He has cut down so many fierce corpses, he’s lost count.

Who are you?

Food is tasteless glue in his mouth.

Who are you?

Every night, he is sure to take the medicine that gives him no dreams.

‘Oh gods oh gods ohgodsohgods--’

Every night, he prays that he has not left Uncle overwhelmed, that his people are being cleansed and healed back home, that Wangji has stopped bleeding, that A-Yuan is healing, that A-Fu is….

Who are you?

(What right do you have?)

What must be done?

He has been here for days that run into one, long, dark, meaningless drain.

‘Son. Baby. Where is he?'

Who are you?

‘Pan Liu.’

His raw fingers pause on Linhai’s strings, still humming. Rain patters quietly on the hat that shields his face from it.

He knows that name. How does he know that name.

There have been plenty of others he had recognized among the dead, from different Sects and his own, from childhood, from Cultivation Conferences, from class. But each time, he must pull himself back to that life to remember, away from the rain and the red and the dead.

He can’t place it.

What must be done for you to rest?

‘My baby. Safe.’

The spirit is a thin wisp of light, playing about the strings, shining on the dark wood. Focused. Waiting.

Who is your son?

‘Lan Fu.’

His mouth is dry.

("A-niang?" A hopeful little voice. The memory of a crumpled form in the blood-churned muck, a shoe print between shoulder blades….)

It is cruel, endlessly cruel that he is the one alive. That he is the one sitting in the mud across from this poor young mother’s spirit. That he is the one with blood enough in his hands to leave rain blotted stains on the strings as he tells A-Fu’s mother; He is safe.

(Shrieks of raw sound as they carry him away. Echoing off the trees. Reaching back for him.)

A hesitation. Then, ‘Who are you?’

Lan Xichen. Zewu-jun.

‘Zongzhu.’

He will be safe. I swear.

‘...Safe.’

Rest, now.

‘...Rest….’ The notes are quiet, exhausted. Longing.

Then, silence. That pale light is gone.

She is gone.

He sits, still and silent as the soft caverns in the clotted mud continue to patter around him. His face is wet--mist and rain and blood. He almost wishes it was tears.

He aches in a new, terrible way, now.

Oh, little one. You were so loved.

He has been witness to both sides, now, of this small, destroyed family reaching for each other through the dark. And how useless he has been in the task of bringing either of them lasting peace.

To bring anyone lasting peace.

(Useless.)

And do you serve anything so fiercely that it would be your last thought, taken across into death?

It is irrelevant. The soul quieting ceremony had been performed on them as children, with all the other inner disciples. He will not linger as a ghost, even if he were to be struck down by a fierce corpse this instant.

He finds himself trying to remember if his mother had ever mentioned having had such a ritual performed on her….

Selfish. You would have your own mother suffer and linger as an unquiet ghost for some sort of twisted confirmation that you were loved?

Xichen remembers childhood before the death of his parents. The infinity of all of it. It probably never crossed A-Fu’s mind to beg her to stay with him. (“No, no go! P’ease!”) She had always returned before.

The memory of A-Fu clinging to his hands so tightly he had drawn blood with his nails is inescapable.

During that final farewell at the Jingshi, A-Huan too had had no idea it would be the last time he would ever see his mother’s face. He didn’t know what creeping death looked like, then. She was simply her, smiling, twinkling at them. He had kissed her cheek and taken Wangji’s hand and waved to her through her ornately carved window screen as Uncle led them away. Wangji had always been the one to pull back, to fuss over leaving. Uncle had always made sure that Xichen set a good example for him.

The snowy day she had left this world, cold and dry, so far from the warm wet muck he was in now, something in him hadn’t believed it. Hadn’t believed that someone could just…no longer exist, just as suddenly as a storm might blow over the mountain summit with no warning.

He saw her so sparingly, it seemed impossible that she wasn't just simply waiting in her front room for them to visit with a smile and open arms.

How? he had asked. When? Why?

Uncle had said that it was not for children to know. This pulled it even farther into the unreal, stretching his comprehension. It felt like a dream, a lie. A story. But if he could just see her…if he could just prove that this was some sort of…misunderstanding--

(Xichen had never asked again after that first refusal sat in his gut like a chilly stone. He suspected that Wangji had not either. Even now, decades later, he still did not know how his mother had actually died.

He suspected enough, however.

He knew it was sudden. He knew it was unexpected. He knew no one spoke of it. He knew it had broken his father beyond any hope of repair. Uncle had not volunteered the information, even now, when they were both grown. And Xichen will not allow useless rumination. Rule 60.)

He remembered he hadn’t been able to stop crying. A-Huan had always hated crying--he always tried to hide away and not bother anyone with it, but this had been constant.

Uncle had squeezed his shoulder and spoken softly, and reminded him after hours of stopping and starting that he must not grieve in excess, that he would make himself sick, that he was agitating Wangji, that he needed to calm himself, death was a natural passing, like the moon or a river, one must not let their emotions control them.

But still, that something in him that just knew it wasn't true waited until it was dark, until curfew set in and the snow lit the night full-moon-bright, reflecting the stars and lanterns. He had pulled on his boots and slipped from his window, cautiously darting across the paths of the Cloud Recesses in just his pajamas and his blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders, shivering from more than the cold.

This had to be a trick that he didn’t understand; a joke or a punishment for something he had done wrong. When he figured out what to apologize for, he would be able to see her again.

The fear of being caught breaking the rules was washed away when he crossed beneath the familiar bower wound with skeletal winter vines. His mother’s house stood dark. All around it, snow was churned and broken, as if many people had been there. In all his memory, no one else had ever visited the Jingshi. The door was unlocked.

It opened onto emptiness and moonlight.

Everything was gone. Her plants. The blue cushioned couch. Her desk and papers. Her dragon incense burner. Her tall candlesticks. Her big, thick, round rug they laid on and played games. The pictures he had painted for her.

He had drifted, stunned, through the shell of his mother’s home. The only proof that she had ever even been there were the scratches on the floor from where furniture had been dragged. That, and the scent of her that still lingered underneath the smell of whatever they had scrubbed the floor and walls with. They had erased her completely. Like she was never there in the first place.

Then it had settled on him like a cloak of lead, dropping him to his knees; the understanding, the true deepness of what this meant.

She was really gone. Forever.

The ‘always’ was gone. The ‘next time’ and promises. That warm, constant presence on the rim of the Cloud Recesses, the visit that marked his days as cyclically and surely as the sun had simply...vanished. In just one moment, the world was made completely lightless. Incomprehensible. It had a hole ripped in its center, cold and inescapable.

She would never brush back his hair and kiss his forehead. She would never pout when she lost a game. She would never squinch up her nose and do an accidental snort-laugh.

If he had only known that it could happen so fast…if he had only known that people could leave so quickly and completely, he would have taken something. A set of her dark, weighty chopsticks, one of her bracelets, a letter; anything. But there was nothing.

Somehow, he had found himself in front of the Hanshi, his feet numb, his face and hands frozen. Thinking back on it, he couldn’t remember what his 6 year old self had planned. He wasn’t sure that there had been a plan. Maybe he had just wanted a parent. Maybe he had been seeking out the one adult that might have cared as much as he did that his mother was gone. Uncle didn’t understand--A-Huan and A-Zhan had always known that he didn’t like her. He was always polite, because that was important, it was in the rules--but he was always stiff and short. He frowned the whole time--every time--picking them up. He hated talking about her.

But the father he had hardly met, that distant, hidden figure--he had married her. He had loved her.

He would care.

The Hanshi, too, had been dark--and he panicked. Had his father left--or died like his mother and no one had told him? He had yanked the door handle--and to his shock, it slid open. He had been expecting a lock like the one that he saw being done up behind them when he and A-Zhan left the Jingshi. (A choice, not a prison, he had realized as he got older. Not in the same way, at least. Other things kept Qingheng-jun bound.)

It was dark inside, curtains drawn, vague shapes of things illuminated by the light creeping in behind him. He stood in that doorway, frozen in body and mind, unable to trespass that much farther. It smelled unfamiliar and sharp. He had never been in his father’s home before.

It was so dark.

He had called into that darkness, choked and quiet; “Fuqin?“

Silence.

“...Diedie?”

(“They made choices. These are consequences,” is all Uncle had told him when, younger, he had asked why both of his parents were locked away from him and refused to say more.

Afterward, A-Huan had always been afraid that he might accidentally make those same choices, that he would be kept from his brother and his Uncle and nannies for it. Because no one would tell him what those choices were, he studied the rules obsessively so he could be sure to follow every single one. So he would never be locked up.)

There was a rustle, a clink. A shape had formed in the shadows, someone sitting up from being slumped on a table. A pale hand swayed into the pool of silver moonlight, pointing. The voice that followed had been rough, slurred like a mouthful of rocks. “You are not supposed to be here. Go.”

A-Huan had fled as fast as his numbed legs could go. Stumbling, breaking through the crust of snow, falling and rising and falling, back up through his window to collapse on the floor. His breath had burned in his lungs as he coughed and sobbed as quietly as he could, hot tears stinging his frozen cheeks.

Not quietly enough, though. A-Zhan had eventually crept into his room and curled up next to him on the floor without a word, arm wrapped around his middle. When A-Huan had rolled over and held him more tightly than he had ever held anything before, he realized that A-Zhan was the only part of his mother he had left in the entire world.

And now, what did A-Fu have left of his parents, of a life he knew?

A story, at the very least. A reason. A goodbye. The truth. It was all he could offer. It was all he had left for the boy. These other spirits and their wishes can only be passed along to others, if they were attainable at all. But this, this he can do; this, he can set right. To make absolutely sure that her will is found and executed, that the family who cares for her son is told the story of her last farewell, so he will know, too, in time.

So a son will never have to wonder.

This much peace, he can provide. With those who can bear this place no more and an endless caravan of cloth draped bodies, he returns to Gusu, leaving behind Qishan’s bleeding sky.

The quiet of home stuns him. There are no screams, no groans echoing down the mountain. The trees don’t muffle sounds of sword or talisman sizzle, merely birdsong and wind. There is beauty here, something he hadn't known his soul craved like water in a drought until he saw it in rich blues, blooming whites, lush greens. The coolness, the clarity of the water and the touch of leaves. Nothing here is red-brown. All that bleeds is hidden away behind pale bandages and pale walls.

It's almost too much.

(His hands feel filthy, no matter how many times he scrubs them. Discontent among such blessings is an insult to those that can no longer come home to them. He will kowtow in the shrine for this disrespect later.)

Time has meaning once more. In theory. There are places to eat, to rest.

(It hardly makes sense to him anymore, despite the schedule being as familiar as the stone beneath his feet.)

Home, in the Hanshi, surrounded by familiarity and comfort, sitting at his desk as the incense burner next to him delicately permeates the air with sandalwood and the trees outside rustle and no one screams at all, he holds Pan Liu’s will in his hands. It is a brief, frail little thing in the face of such sorrow. It must have been hastily written after her husband’s death, as she willed A-Fu and her remaining possessions to the care of her younger sister. Who upon brief investigation of his ever growing list of the dead was found to have been killed in the battle against Wei Wuxian as well. The sister, yet unmarried, had no will of her own--probably too young to have begun to even consider death as a real possibility before life and Wen and war swept their way in. Their house had been one destroyed in the Wen’s sacking of the Cloud Recesses, their personal possessions few. No one else remained of their immediate family.

Pan Liu clearly had not expected to die before she could update it.

In his heart, somewhere, he had known that something like this was the case; that A-Fu was truly alone. Xichen had carried him for days and no one had come looking? No one had wondered where he was, wanted him home safe, with them?

He had not wanted to look directly at this, at the time, knowing he would have to give A-Fu back to that loneliness, that uncertainty. Even though A-Fu is not the only child in the Cultivation World or even the Cloud Recesses with the same fate, it had been…different. He couldn’t have said why--still can’t--but it had felt like a betrayal to the boy. A loss, savage and personal. Even when he knew any other choice came nowhere close to making sense.

Still. Even he and Wangji had had their uncle and the small, rotating cadre of minders that were familiar to them. He saw his mother once a month and knew his father was there, somewhere, out of sight. There had been a thread connecting them to their parents and the life they could have had with them.

A-Fu has none of this.

And yet he still cries, still calls out, because he trusts that someone he knows will come. Of everything in these last few days, this is what is almost too much to bear, a knife stuck in his ribs that gouges with every breath. He does not feel sadness or regret; only pain. Everything else has been out of reach for a while now.

The rattle of his door opening onto seeping sunshine and fresh, bloodless air has him looking up. His Uncle steps over the threshold. “You’re back,” he says warmly by way of greeting as Xichen rises.

“Shufu.” He bows, then offers him his customary seat, more out of habit than necessity; this teatime visit was a familiar ritual in a life not too long ago.

They take their places at opposite ends of the low, square table at the center of his sitting room as Xichen opens his tea cupboard. “It’s been a while since we have been able to simply sit and have tea together,” Uncle observes, easily.

Yes; nothing has been right or normal for a long time. “Mn.”

When he continues to set out the cool porcelain cups and the dark pot with no further elaboration, Uncle watches him work, expression a thoughtful blur in his periphery. “...The library is not where I expected your first stop to be.”

He sounds only mildly curious, but Xichen knows that it is unspoken approval that he had not gone straight to Wangji.

He hesitates, then continues his methodical ritual of movement. “There was a time-sensitive matter that I wanted to attend to.”

In truth, after the bath he had taken upon his return--where he had had to call for 3 rounds of water (Do not be wasteful, Rule 23; broken) before it was no longer clouded dark with dried blood and mud and rot--Xichen had stood on the Hanshi’s front porch, staring down at the blindingly white path before him, forking off through the trees.

His heart had tugged him one way and his cowardice in the face of pain another. The thought of seeing more bodies just lying there, of seeing those dear to him--Wangji, A-Yuan, those in the infirmary--suffering while he could do nothing to prevent it was….

It was not something he was capable of, at present. Just for now. Just for these first few hours. It was selfish, but true. And so, he had gone to their records room in the library to request Pan Liu’s will. Pain had won. His heart was weak, choosing the easier duty.

Unable to stop himself, though he knows it will cloud his uncle’s relaxed and pleasant demeanor, he asks; “Is Wangji…?” He trails off.

Awake? Improving? Well? …Alive? A sharp internal rebuke at this last. Do not exaggerate. Rule 671. Uncle would not be so calm if things were dire. He is angry, not cruel. He would have been told.

(A heavy hand on his shoulder. An empty house. Churned snow.)

He would have been told.

Uncle’s face does, indeed, darken. “Hmph.” A mirthless, scornful snort. “He wakes on occasion. He refuses to speak, refuses to acknowledge anyone. He is simply lengthening his own punishment.” Uncle eyes him, adding, “You should be able to talk some sense into him. He always has listened to you best.”

‘And so how could you have let this happen? How could you have let him do this?’

(When will you stop being angry and start being afraid for him?)

Xichen lowers his gaze to the dark wood of the table and scoops the tiny, furled up leaves of the tea into the pot, the smokey green scent tickling his nose

It’s true. Of everyone--their caregivers, teachers, and relatives, Wangji has always responded to him best. He would not always necessarily disobey outright, but he might frown or hesitate before complying or pretend not to hear--especially if he were called to come away from Xichen’s side. “Your class is this way, xiao-gongzi,” the minder would call and A-Zhan would continue his resolute little stride beside him, hand squeezing tighter around Xichen’s fingers the only indication he had heard anything at all.

It was when Xichen squeezed back and knelt down to straighten his robes, smiling up into his serious face, saying, “It’s alright, ZhanZhan; I’ll ask if I can come out early to pick you up, mn? Go on, be good,” that he would allow himself to be led away with no further fuss.

He had been the only one who could finally convince him that kneeling in the rocky ground every month when they should have been visiting their mother would not force anyone to bring her out to them. The first time, he had asked him to come in, come home. But knew his brother. He was not surprised when he silently refused to even show he had heard him.

And so he hadn’t asked again, never having the stomach to fully destroy the hope that he would be let back into the Jingshi if he just waited long enough.

But Uncle had become frustrated, their teachers and nannies muttering. They were impatient with his refusal, seeing it as disobedience. They didn’t see his mourning, only his stubbornness. So A-Huan had had to protect his brother's soft heart from those that didn’t understand. “We can kneel together, back at home,” he had whispered, his fingers screwed tight around A-Zhan’s cold hand. “I’ll wait with you as long as you want. But niang would--” his throat had caught and he had wrestled his tears from his voice. “Niang would hate if you got sick, sitting out here in the cold all day.”

A-Zhan’s dark eyes had bored into him, thinking. Reason and punishment and demands from adults had not moved his stubborn frame one inch, month after month after winter-to-spring month.

Then, finally, this second and last time, A-Zhan had listened to him. Whatever it was about him was what finally got his little brother slowly, stiffly to his feet to hobble back home with him. Xichen remembered that he hadn’t felt relieved at all. He just felt like he had taken their mother from him all over again.

“I will speak with him, shufu.”

Uncle nods, then heaves a sigh. “What news is there from Qishan?”

Mechanically, as if operating his own mouth from across the room, Xichen relays numbers, movements, and times. He almost reflexively scolds himself for lying; the mundane description of dry duty and the lived horror so far from one another that they were entirely irreconcilable. Just words passed across a shining table over fragrant tea, cool wind brushing the sun-pale windows serenely with tree shadows

When he reaches the final fate of Wei Wuxian’s executed Wen contingent, Uncle approves. “It was wise to swear the disciples to secrecy. This has all gotten so inhumane. Denying them burial was an unnecessary cruelty,” he says heavily as he shakes his head, eyes closed in weariness. “I pray that we are done with this madness at last, with that Wei Ying finally taken care of. What a mess.”

There is silence. Xichen cannot fathom what his response to that could possibly be. Should possibly be--as Wangji’s brother, as the Lan Clan Leader, as his uncle's nephew. As Wei Wuxian’s…what. Friend?

…As one who cannot delight in his death, in any case.

Despite the period of kneeling before the Jingshi, Wangji had never been a troublemaker growing up. He was always the Jade who grasped the Lan way of life more easily, molded himself to the rigidity of the rules with that same stubborn tenacity.

It was Xichen who failed in that, who smudged the black and white lines to gray, bent them so they were slightly more comfortable around him; bearable--once he discovered that they could be.

He was the one who accidentally got drunk trying to see if he could filter out alcohol with his core, he was the one to kiss Mingjue first in the Jin Gardens during a Cultivation Conference. The one to urge his brother to befriend a talented teenager who was gleefully and repeatedly stomping all over their Clan’s ancestral rules.

He was the one who had told Wangji to step outside his rigid view of the world, to see people for their hearts. And then Wangji's own heart had been torn out. As his uncle said; Wangji had always listened to him best. This much would never have happened without Xichen's deliberate meddling.

All those years ago, when Wei Wuxian had first cannonballed into their lives, Xichen had just wanted Wangji to be happy. To have friends. Alone didn’t always mean lonely, but he knew he saw it in his brother. Saw Wangji with peers who were merely in awe of his talent, who respected but did not like him, love him, know him, want to spend time with him. He knew the difference, no matter what Wangji showed the rest of the world. The older he got, the less he smiled--the soft, secret ones that so many others failed to see. Xichen had missed them, dearly. And so he had pushed.

Everything that has happened sense feels as if it’s unshakably all his fault.

As the tea is poured, they speak; it passes over him like clouds. Which elder is still in which stage of recovery. The smith they called to repair swords and assess the spirits of those now without a handler.

Something touches him.

“Xichen!”

His hand burns. He is on his feet. Shuoyue’s naked blade buzzes, ready in his hand. He does not remember moving. Every fiber of cloth on his skin feels alive and writhing. Blood courses. Scalding tea is cooling, dripping from his knuckles.

The touch had been spiritual, not physical. From the corner of his awareness and the Cloud Recesses boundary wards at once; a warning, tasting of wild metal (close to blood, so close).

The Western Wards, crossed.

“Do not unsheathe your blade in a residence!” Uncle’s face crinkles from shock to a wince. “And contain yourself, this is not a battlefield.”

It takes a moment. His killing intent is up, streaming from his core like a river of blades, of blood.

Sucking in a breath, he takes the torrent in internal hand and yanks it back, firmly, like the reins of a horse, winding the silk rope of it over again and again in the palm of his concentration, until the thrum of it eases. The pressure that had filled the room with the promise of death ebbs. Shuoyue hums warm, expectant. When he does finally sheathe her, the connection between them flickers, confused.

Above his hammering heart, he hears Uncle continue, frowning, “I felt it, too. Was it someone passing outward or inward?”

His tongue, his mind is mud-stuck slow.

Focus. There is no battle here. You are home. Get a hold of yourself.

“...Outward. Less resistance. Nothing powerful.”

Oddly, at this Uncle’s frown deepens, shadows of concern replacing mere puzzlement. “Hmm. Those were in the West…far….” After a moment of thought, he rises.

As he steps out the door and calls for a servant from the Hanshi’s porch, Xichen continues to try to pull in slow, deep breaths.

Have you regressed to being such a novice that you cannot control your own qi? Your own battle intent? Are you a child? Though his uncle's voice is low and his attention is divided, the words ‘searchers’ makes it through the pounding blood in his ears. Strange.

When Uncle slides the door back open, Xichen asks, “Searchers?”

His silhouetted form hesitates, framed by the sunlight that pours in behind him and dazzles Xichen’s eyes, leaving his expression briefly in shadow. “...Yesterday evening, a child managed to wander into the woods alone.” A spike of cold worry threatens to heighten the wild surge of energy within him once more as his uncle continues, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “We have had several teams scouring the backhill and the whole of our land since then. They are young enough that their spiritual signature isn’t strong enough to register on normal tracking talismans.”

“Why was I not told?!”

It burst from him, harsher from shock than he had meant and Uncle blinks, pausing in settling himself back onto his seat, brow furrowed.

But he cannot bring himself to care about disrespect, just now. Any child alone and lost is terrifying, awful. There is something, though…something about his tone, his expression that has breath caught in Xichen’s throat as slow, glacial horror creeps up from the depth of his gut. He is avoiding specifics.

Why.

“It is being handled already; why would I distract you from your duties? You’ve only just returned and you must--”

“Who. Which child.”

He huffs in irritation, brow furrowing further. And he shuts his mouth, lips compressing.

Xichen no longer needs an answer.

Behind him, he can hear Uncle’s voice raised in startled alarm, but he is already out the door, already leaping from the porch onto Shuoyue. The wind howls in his ears as shoots upward, speeding west to where he had felt the wards ring within him. To where A-Fu has just crossed beyond their safety.

He knows. He doesn’t know how, but he knows.

Xichen can barely breathe around the air battering his face and his own terror. The shrieking sky threatens to rip him from Shuoyue’s blade. Everything at once feels heightened, his awareness expanding to notice how chilly it is despite the sun, how the damp of the wind tearing at his hair and clothes tells of rain in the past day, how dark the woods look beneath the thick canopy blurring by below his feet. He had been alone and cold and terrified, out all night. Had the boy been trying to find his mother? Xichen? The thought made his gut writhe within him.

(They peel his little fingers from Xichen’s sleeve as he clutches and screams…)

Please please please please please

How could this happen? How could he have ever allowed this to happen? There were rivers, cliffs, steep slopes of scree, ponds, caves, animals--gods, animals alone would--

He is well enough to move, to cross the wards.

If it was him. If it were not a strong enough spiritual animal to trigger the alarm.

There is no boy hanging among them THERE IS NO--

The invisible boundary rears up in his senses, mere seconds full tilt sword ride from the Hanshi but so, so far for a tiny child, wandering in the night. Beneath the canopy, before Shuoyue even manages to drop to a reasonable height and speed, he has already leapt off, landing at a sprint. Internally, the memory of the disruption in the web of the spell warps around his spiritual awareness like a broken arch as he crosses in that exact place. The ground is not suddenly more treacherous, the trees no more menacing, but beyond the relative safety of the Cloud Recesses, his hammering heart sees the whole world is a death trap for this little child.

(He cannot bear to see a tiny body, he can’t, he can’t--)

Skidding to a stop, he wheels in place, eyes scouring everything at knee level and below. “A-Fu!” his throat is pinched, his mouth bone dry. “A-Fu?!”

The ground cover is thick with bushes, shrubs, trees both young and fallen. The sun shines spots into his eyes through the swaying leaf cover above, dappling the floor with shadow and light, dancing, blurring. Silence. Even the birdsong had stopped when this strange being had suddenly crashed into their peaceful little clearing. He sucks in a breath to call again--and then he hears it.

There is a small child crying somewhere nearby.

Quiet and hoarse but unmistakable.

He isn't slow, gentle, or cautious or anything that a terrified child might need right now; something else has a hold of him, now. He blindly crashes through the brush towards the sound, half skidding down a slope until--until! There!

A blur of white amongst tree roots halfway down, a curled shape and-- “A-Fu!”--a little face, smudged and red cheeked and tear stained raises and his little eyes light with recognition and he scrabbles, fumbling and crawling out as Xichen tears back up the slope--slips, rights himself--and reaches and the boy throws himself off the lip of the hollow and into his arms, colliding hard with his chest like his heart coming home.

He staggers, momentum and sudden weakness buckling his knees. A gnarled tree catches his side and he slides them down into the huddle of its roots, curled around him. Against his chest, wrapped in his arms, A-Fu is damp and chilly. He is covered in muck and sticks and burrs but he’s alive--alive--safe and hiccuping and piteously hoarse, tangling his hands through Xichen’s hair as he clutches him back, gasping.

He can breathe. He can finally breathe again.

Some unnameable agony, like some wild beast, is thrashing, welling up, bursting from his chest. It shakes him, tearing at his throat, his heart, his lungs, burning. It’s not relief. It's not fear. It’s…

Heedless of stitches cracking and bursting, he yanks his thicker outer robes open and over the child, tucking him deep into the pocket of warmth. He can feel him shivering, his tiny heart speeding.

He had forgotten that his head is so warm, that his hands are so tiny, just how real his weight is in his arms. When he buries his nose in the baby fluff of his hair, under the dirt and musty forest chill is that wild-sweet child smell he remembers from carrying him for days beneath his chin--and long ago from when Wangji was young.

He tries to pull back to check him for injuries, for bruising, but he latches onto his neck and sobs. Mere minutes before, Xichen had never wanted to hear another scream again--but now he wishes A-Fu’s cries were as loud as the first day he held him, deafening and demanding, sure and strong in their conviction. These sobs are private, weak, exhausted little things. Not calling for attention. No longer certain of a trusted adult’s return.

“P’ease,” he croaks and that pain, that pressure bears down on Xichen and it feels like drowning; it feels like dying.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m here,” he whispers back, thick and choked (that thing inside him that aches, that wails, that loves is strangling him), and he draws up his knees, he wraps his robes tighter and rocks and rocks them both as it breaks--all of it, calving and crashing and surging and molten and ugly and broken--and he wants to beg ‘scream, little love, scream your heart out; someone is coming, someone will always come,’ but he doesn't have enough breath as it tears from his locked throat in silent sobs, because with unworthy hands and heart, he holds this blameless little life that has wandered through the halls of his heart leaving muddy fingerprints, and does the cruelest, most selfish thing he can ever recall doing.

He realizes that he cannot let him go again.

#'Xichen has emotions and wishes he didn't' is the name of THIS chapter!#3zun raise jingyi au #3zun raise jingyi au content #my fic #my stuff #untamed fanfic #mdzs fanfic #SORRY FOR THE LONG ASS WAIT AND THE INCREDIBLE AMOUNT OF ANGST HE HAD TO WORK THRU SOME STUFF #I'll try to post happier fluffier things next #Maybe some 3zun fluff in Snowed In. Or the next chapter of And A-Fu Makes 4 which has fluff #Or the next chapter of In Your Hands because I PROMISE we're working things out #ANYWAY LOVE YOU G'NIGHT

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tavina-writes · 2 years ago

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Your meta about NMJ's hobbies is great! It's kind of funny: this conversation between them is so lighthearted and familial in your translation. Made me even more sad about them ;)) It also fuels my headcanon that NMJ is a potter, and made quite a few of tea pots for his brother.

Hi nonny!

I'm glad you liked it! It kind of surprised me too how not particularly antagonistic and even a little bit teasing the original Chinese version of that scene was. (I'd only really gone to look at it to see which word it used for "hobbies" tbh and then discovered it wasn't even JGY or NMJ's thoughts...)

As for NMJ's hobbies, well, canonically we have nothing! For all we (and WWX for the matter) know, he could totally love doing a bunch of different things, and that includes pottery so😌, anyone can headcanon however they like!

#thinking of da ge every day #hobbies headcanons #i'm so tired of the take that da ge has no hobbies besides murder #asks and answers #related to my meta

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symphonyofsilence · 2 years ago

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What's your favorite incredibly fucked up moment in any mxtx story

omg this is SO tough

i'm literally so desensitized now, i'm sitting here like ehhh i mean it's all pretty normal isn't it

having just finished it, i've got to go with the yue qingyuan/shen jiu dynamic in scum villain-- the idea that this guy will go the rest of his life not knowing that the person he loves the most and has spent his whole life trying to protect is actually long dead, despite apparently being alive and walking around. and from the shen jiu perspective, to have died and have nobody even know that it happened (and, as others have pointed out, to have everyone prefer the new, fake you)

#oh wow now that's some new pain to think about #though #If everyone in SVSSS prefers Shen Yuan's Shen Qingqiu to the original Shen Jiu #I don't think Yue Qingyuan does.#He definitely loved Shen Qingqiu every way he was #because he didn't know his Xiao Jiu wasn't there anymore #so he didn't love him less than before & he was certainly happy for him that he seemingly didn't remember all the shit they've been through #& looked more at peace and a lot happier #but that would mean that they didn't have any shared history together. There was nothing personal between them #The fact that Xiao Jiu apparently wasn't there anymore must have stung. It's apparent in the way he keeps calling him Xiao Jiu #towards the end & asks him to call him Qi-ge #Imagine if Wei Wuxian one day woke up and met a very nice Jiang Cheng #who didn't look the least bit upset with him #talked to him with respect & called him “Da-Shixiong”. But though nice and polite was still distant.#I'm sure WWX would miss his little bitch of a brother the moment he saw this new person #Not a hundred of his sweet polite 'Da-Shixiong's would equal one of the original JC's angry 'Wei Wuxian!'s & I think it's like that #for YQY too He didn't love Xiao Jiu because of his sweetness & exemplary etiquette & social skills He loved him because he was Xiao Jiu #Shen Jiu's wrath & grudge was something personal. It showed that there was a history between them. As long as it existed #there were feelings between them. it showed that Shen Jiu cared enough to be hurt and angry. It showed that Shen Jiu cared.#Whatever tragic bitter sad history was between them it was theirs.#Their own. One thing that only the two of them carried #and now Yue Qingyuan had to carry alone on his own.#svsss

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robininthelabyrinth · 2 years ago

Text

Darlings - ao3

Summary:

“Clarity would not work to fix Chifeng-zun,” Lan Wangji opined.

Nie Huaisang resisted the urge to kick him – Lan Wangji wouldn’t stick his foot in somewhere it wasn’t wanted if he didn’t actually have relevant information – but even Lan Qiren frowned at him.

“You seem remarkably certain about that, Wangji,” he said. “But why not? While it’s not appropriate for every circumstance, it’s an extremely powerful song. I would think that it would be at least worth an attempt.

”Lan Wangji looked distinctly shame-faced, though perhaps only someone who knew him very well would recognize that particular flavor of it.

“I see,” Lan Qiren said. “And what exactly has your brother done that he doesn’t want me to know about?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m bored,” Nie Huaisang complained, and his brother’s eye twitched. “And don’t say ‘go train’, I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re never in the mood,” his brother said, his voice harsher than it usually was. It was often too harsh these days; the version of his brother that Nie Huaisang liked best, teasing and thoughtful and amused despite himself, seemed to have gotten rarer and rarer in appearance. “That’s the problem.”

“Not the point,” Nie Huaisang said. “The point is more fundamental than that. The Unclean Realm is boring! All these years, we’ve kept to ourselves because of the war – limited visits to friends, only going to places that are safe, that sort of thing. But the war’s over, right? So I should be able to go visit whoever I want.”

His brother grunted. Still unamused, when normally Nie Huaisang’s nonsense arguments amused him more than anything else.

Annoyed, Nie Huaisang changed his original plan, which had been to wheedle out permission for a visit to the Lotus Pier to see poor Jiang Cheng who was all alone now that his sister had married off, and instead said, “I want to go visit Wei-xiong!”

“Absolutely not,” his brother said, unsurprisingly. “He’s an outlaw for a reason, Huaisang. He murdered those Jin sect cultivators without warning, didn’t he? Who’s to say he wouldn’t murder you, too?”

“All sorts of reasons,” Nie Huaisang argued back. “Listen, what if –”

“I said no,” his brother thundered, leaping to his feet and slamming his hands against the desk. “You will listen to me, Huaisang, and if you don’t –”

“Why are you always yelling?” Nie Huaisang shouted back, losing his own temper. He was a Nie as well, after all. “Why do you always take everything so seriously? I was just suggesting –”

“It was a stupid suggestion –”

“Even if it’s stupid, you don’t have to hit things –”

“You wouldn’t be so afraid of me hitting things if you’d actually train the way you’re supposed to –”

“I shouldn’t have to worry about it at all!” Nie Huaisang screamed. “You’re my da-ge! You’re not supposed to act like – like – like Father!”

His brother, who was about to yell back, stopped, stricken.

Equally stricken by what he’d just said, Nie Huaisang stared at him.

“It’s not like Father,” he said, because it couldn’t be. It wasn’t allowed to be. Nie sect leaders died young, yes, everyone knew that, even (especially) him no matter how much he pretended that he didn’t, but – but their father had been older than his brother was now, and he’d been fine right up until the time he’d been murdered. If it hadn’t been for Wen Ruohan, they would’ve had him for another decade or two, easy, and he was nearly as good a cultivator as Nie Mingjue was…though he hadn’t had to fight a war on that sort of scale, either. Nie Mingjue’s cultivation had gotten scarily good the past few years. “It’s – it’s not, right?”

His brother said nothing for a long moment.

Then, at last, he sighed and sat down heavily on his chair with a thump.

“We can go visit the Lan sect,” he said, which wasn’t what Nie Huaisang had wanted at all, but for some reason the thought of arguing any further tasted like ashes in Nie Huaisang’s mouth.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go visit the Lan sect.”

The one good thing about visiting the Lan sect, Nie Huaisang thought bitterly, and in fact the only good thing was Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen was nice and friendly and gentle, indulgent the way a big brother ought to be, always thinking first about Nie Huaisang’s comfort and happiness. He would buy him thoughtful gifts, he would take him out on outings to new parts of the mountain where there were beautiful views, he would sit and paint with him and listen to him very seriously even when he was talking nonsense. He would even avert his eyes if Nie Huaisang brought out one of his own books to read during study time, smiling and blushing a little in a very fetching fashion – Lan Xichen wasn’t the most desirable bachelor of the cultivation world for nothing, his face earned all its accolades fair and square in Nie Huaisang’s opinion – and they had long conversations that covered everything and anything.

Fewer these days, since Lan Xichen was busy with rebuilding and with Jin Guangyao, who apparently needed quite a lot of support even as he managed to talk his sect into providing the Lan sect with support of a more financial nature, but Nie Huaisang had been sure that a nice visit to the Lan sect with no politics behind it would give him the opportunity to finally have Lan Xichen all to himself again.

Except, of course, that Lan Xichen wasn’t there.

“Off to the Jin sect again,” Nie Mingjue grumbled acidly under his voice as they walked up to the center of the Lan sect from the gateway where they’d received the bad news from one of the door guards. “Big surprise.”

Nie Huaisang, in an equally bad mood, agreed wholeheartedly. It wasn’t like he’d come here for the food or anything…but now that they were here, there was nothing for it but to grit their teeth and bear it. They hadn’t sent word in advance of their arrival, like a bunch of barbarians, even though they really should have. But the decision to go had been very spontaneous and in all honesty Nie Huaisang had been a bit worried that his brother would change his mind if they didn’t follow through on the decision right away, so here they were, visiting the Lan sect, and it was on their own heads that the main attraction of the Lan sect was not there to greet them.

Instead, they were going to have to deal with…the rest of them.

Nie Huaisang tormented himself briefly by wondering if they’d be greeted by Lan Qiren, that terrifyingly stern and rule-abiding teacher that even Nie Mingjue was a bit afraid of, or if it would be that menace Lan Wangji, who everyone praised as the upstanding and noble Hanguang-jun, perfect in every way, but who when approached alone was definitely still that horrible little hellion Lan Zhan who when they were children used to bite Nie Huaisang any time he didn’t get his way.

The answer, it turned out, was both.

Actually, the answer turned out to be Lan Qiren loudly scolding Lan Wangji, who to untrained eyes looked obedient and submissive and to those in the know looked completely unrepentant.

Lan Qiren knew it no less than anyone else, of course, which was presumably why he was still scolding him quite so fiercely – so fiercely, in fact, that it was pretty obvious he hadn’t noticed any of the lingering Lan disciples who’d clearly come to give him the heads up that there were visitors. He was currently going hard on the subject of responsibility, whether to the sect and to the self, and not being impulsive, and also how going to dangerous places, especially without telling people first, was completely beyond the pale of impulsive, especially extremely dangerous places like –

“Hey, wait, that’s not fair!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, affronted. “Why does Lan Zhan get to go to visit the Burial Mounds and I don’t?!”

His brother glared at him even as both Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji twisted their heads to stare at their guests in surprise and unhappiness – Lan Qiren presumably because he’d been caught lecturing his perfect Lan Wangji in front of outsiders, and Lan Wangji presumably because Nie Huaisang had slipped up and called him Lan Zhan again, which he’d been banned from doing ever since Lan Wangji had turned ten and insufferable.

“He did not get to go,” Lan Qiren said, retreating into stiffness as he always did when he was embarrassed, but that just made the expression on Lan Wangji’s face change straight back into mulishness.

“There were no serious threats there,” he said flatly.

Lan Qiren promptly puffed up in rage again. “No serious threats – it’s the Burial Mounds! Even putting aside Wei-gongzi’s presence, the resentful energy in the air alone –”

“What do you mean there weren’t any serious threats?” Nie Mingjue demanded, overriding even his old teacher in a bout of rather uncharacteristic rudeness. “All the reports I’ve gotten is that Wei Wuxian has prepared the mountain as if for a siege, surrounding himself with arrays and corpses. Is that not true?”

Lan Wangji shook his head firmly.

That made even Lan Qiren started frowning. “Similar news had come to Xichen and myself,” he said. “The Jin sect said they sent several envoys seeking peace and were repulsed with violence, did they not? Wangji, are you saying you were able to go there with no difficulty?”

“That is correct, shufu. The greatest difficulty I encountered was Wei Ying forgetting to pay for lunch.”

“Good man,” Nie Huaisang said approvingly. “He always knew how to sponge a meal like the best of them. Did he manage to get you to pay for anyone else, too?”

Lan Wangji hesitated, which meant yes.

“One of the Wens?” Nie Huaisang’s brother asked, and his voice had dropped down to a forbidding register.

Lan Wangji straightened his back. “I will not apologize for associating with a child of two,” he said icily. “Regardless of his surname –”

“A child of two?!” Lan Qiren exclaimed, horrified, and even Nie Mingjue’s seeming ever-present anger broke for a moment, leaving him looking aghast. “In the Burial Mounds?!”

“Oh, woe is us,” Nie Huaisang said, delighted by this turn of events, which proved to be far more entertaining than what he thought was in store for him on a visit to the Cloud Recesses. “Clearly we’ll all have to go to see for ourselves, right? Right?”

When they got to the Burial Mounds, a lot of things happened in extremely rapid succession.

First, Nie Huaisang’s brother acted like even more of a beast than usual, getting irritated by the defensive arrays and deciding to just smash them open with his saber and march up the hill instead of listening to Lan Qiren’s perfectly reasonable suggestion of just knocking and seeing what would happen.

Second, the Wen sect’s camp on the Burial Mounds, and Wei Wuxian’s ‘fortress’, turned out to be a lot less fearsome than the rumors had advertised, with even the sign on the big cave that read ‘Demon-Slaughtering Cave’ being written in a jaunty and cheerful manner as if it were advertising a wine shop – and the sign was crooked, too. This was a matter of great displeasure to just about everyone, although Nie Huaisang suspected he was the only one disappointed in not finding anything more interesting rather than being upset about how they’d been misled about the dangers involved. Said dangers seemed to be limited to a bunch of elderly folk puttering about in a radish field, Wen Ning the Ghost General who would have probably been a lot scarier if he hadn’t consented to being buried in said radish field by the previously mentioned child of two and had gotten in so deep that he couldn’t easily wiggle out, and a shocked-looking Wei-Wuxian himself who looked as if he’d just been woken up out of an afternoon nap and who had come to yell at the intruders to go away.

Third, there had been an awful lot of yelling, mostly on the part of Wei Wuxian and, of course, Nie Mingjue, who was being awfully shouty even for him. Matters had very quickly deteriorated at that point no matter how much the Lans present (and Nie Huaisang) tried to calm the situation, with Nie Mingjue pulling out Baxia and Wei Wuxian responding by pulling out the Tiger Seal. It probably would have escalated still further – even Wen Ning had managed to crawl out of the dirt by this point, and he was hanging around ominously with white in his eyes – except that when Nie Mingjue stepped forward and lifted up his saber to actually strike his host, an overreaction of such massive extent that even Nie Huaisang couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it was actually happening, Wen Qing had come out of the cave, taken one look at what was going on, and shouted, “He’s having a qi deviation!”

Fourth, Nie Mingjue was definitely having a qi deviation.

Fifth, Nie Huaisang immediately had a panic attack in response to his brother showing symptoms of qi deviation, because qi deviations were what killed Nie sect leaders and Nie Huaisang remembered what they had done to his father in those horrible last few months of his life following his murder.

Sixth, Nie Mingjue’s concern over Nie Huaisang’s panic attack apparently managed to bring him back to himself enough that he apparently willed down the qi deviation, which, according to Wen Qing, was –

“Completely fucking impossible.”

“…Wen Qing, you just swore,” Wei Wuxian said, sounding dazed. “You never swear.”

“Oh, I swear all right,” she said, though her blush suggested she did not, in fact, make a habit of swearing even in the most extreme of circumstances. Not really a surprise, given that she’d been raised as a proper young lady. “At least I do when I encountered the utterly impossible. Advanced surgery that’s never been tried before? Risky, but within the realm of expectation. Reversing a qi deviation out of sheer brotherly worry? That’s just – just – it’s just weird!”

“Can we stop talking about how weird it is and focus on making my da-ge get better?!” Nie Huaisang demanded, clutching his brother’s sleeve. The second Nie Mingjue had put down Baxia and turned to focus on calming Nie Huaisang down, Wen Qing had gotten him in the back of the neck with four needles and he was now completely unconscious, which was probably for the best, really, but which was causing Nie Huaisang no end of distress.

“Nie Huaisang is correct,” Lan Qiren said crisply, and stepped forward towards Nie Mingjue, waving some sort of fancy array into existence that immediately got Wen Qing’s attention.

“That’s way more advanced than the usual diagnostic array,” she said, sounding affronted and also fascinated. “Wait – is that actually measuring the amount of spiritual energy in a given meridian? I thought everyone said that was impossible to track!”

“It’s a matter of resonance,” Lan Qiren said, with a slight melt to his usual frostiness towards all people surnamed Wen – quite justifiable in Nie Huaisang’s mind, given what had happened to the Cloud Recesses. Even Nie Huaisang, who considered himself an amiable and forgiving sort of person, wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about the people who helped Wen Ruohan kill his father and, later, lots of his friends and also very nearly his brother. “A number of my sect members specialize in the medical arts, and they invented it while serving as battlefield medics. It’s not actually tracking the spiritual energy directly, which is in fact impossible, but rather tracking the effect of the movement of spiritual energy as it reacts.”

“Reacts to what? Oh, wait, is that what that low droning sound is for? I thought it was a side effect of putting in too much spiritual energy, as it is with most arrays. But instead you’ve actually harnessed the excess sound using your musical cultivation –”

“Can! We! Focus! On! Fixing! My! Da-ge?!” Nie Huaisang interjected. Loudly.

That got them to shut up and focus for a while. Lan Qiren had been the general leading the Lan sect’s forces and managing the back end for most of the war, so he had a lot of personal experience in playing battlefield medic, and Wen Qing herself had of course been well known for her medical skill even before everything had gone down, so the two of them put their heads together over Nie Mingjue and started up a very technical conversation that no one else understood.

In the meantime, the rest of them – Nie Huaisang, Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and Wen Ning – just looked at each other.

“Wei-gongzi, are we just going to stand here while they work?” Wen Ning asked Wei Wuxian in an undertone, ignoring (or maybe not understanding) the suddenly hostile tilt of Lan Wangji’s eyebrows.

“Yes we are,” Nie Huaisang said loudly, then glared at Wen Ning. “Anyway, aren’t you her brother? Don’t you know anything about medicine yourself?”

Wen Ning looked taken aback. “Uh,” he said. “Not – not that much? I was only ever her assistant –”

“Then what are you waiting for?!” Nie Huaisang demanded, and jabbed a finger towards where they were working. “Go assist!”

Wen Ning tried to look at Wei Wuxian for permission, but Nie Huaisang hissed at him until he picked up his heels and trotted guiltily over to inquire if there was anything he could do, then promptly got recruited to run errands – which showed he clearly had been needed, and therefore should have been there doing that in the first place.

“Hey, Nie-xiong, have you ever seen those animal traders that come from the far south?” Wei Wuxian asked. “The ones that sometimes have those long ferret-badgers, you know the ones, they always hiss at large creatures and they can fight snakes –”

“…the mongoose?”

“Yeah, the mongoose!” Wei Wuxian nodded, then grinned toothily at him. “Has anyone ever told you, Nie-xiong, that you sometimes resemble a mongoose?”

“This is definitely the first time, Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said. “Definitely the first time.”

“Maybe that should be your nickname! You’re the only one who doesn’t have one, right? I’m the Yiling Patriarch, Lan Zhan here’s Hanguang-jun – you can be the Stubborn Mongoose!”

Lan Wangji’s eye twitched. Why he was getting irritated over Nie Huaisang getting a stupid nickname, Nie Huaisang had no idea, since he was pretty sure Lan Wangji didn’t want to be called ‘Stubborn Mongoose’ himself when he already had a perfectly good title.

Maybe he was just jealous of Nie Huaisang getting Wei Wuxian’s attention. Well, if so, Nie Huaisang was more than willing to throw it right back onto him.

“No thanks, Wei-xiong,” he said, and smiled (somewhat toothily) right back at him. “I’ve had a dislike for animal-related nicknames ever since I was a child – you see, I went over to visit the Lan sect a few times and their precious ‘little Rabbit Bun’ bit me.”

He tilted his head pointedly in Lan Wangji’s direction.

Lan Wangji gave Nie Huaisang a death glare.

Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, looked as if his entire life had been improved by at least six degrees. “Lan Zhan?” he gasped. “Your childhood nickname was Little Rabbit Bun? That’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard! You must have been so cute!”

Lan Wangji glanced at him, his ears going red, and then glanced back at Nie Huaisang, who gave him a smug You owe me expression before saying, very virtuously, “Wei-xiong, don’t be silly. Wouldn’t you agree that our Hanguang-jun is still very cute?”

“No, he’s not cute, he’s handsome!” Wei Wuxian objected. “You can’t be ‘cute’ when you’re as dashing and bold as Lan Zhan is –”

“Being handsome doesn’t mean you can’t be cute at the same time! Haven’t you seen him when he’s smiling?”

Wei Wuxian looked stricken. “He smiles? You’ve seen him smile, Nie-xiong? Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, that’s not fair! You have to smile for me, I have to see it – you can’t smile at Nie Huaisang and not at me, okay, that’s just wrong, I’m the one who wanted to be your friend –”

Nie Huaisang bared his teeth at Lan Wangji – see I’m still better at managing people than you! – and Lan Wangji gave him a half-hearted glare back, too distracted by the way Wei Wuxian was tugging at his sleeve to really put any real heat into it. Or maybe he really did like Wei Wuxian bugging him all the time, who knew?

(Actually, the last time Nie Huaisang had seen Lan Wangji smile, they’d both been at least a decade younger, but he wasn’t about to let facts get in the way of a good taunt.)

The entire thing probably would have continued in that vein for a while, only then Lan Qiren and Wen Qing suddenly got up and that got Nie Huaisang’s attention entirely; he promptly forgot about what the two idiots he was waiting alongside were doing and rushed over.

“Is he all right?” he asked anxiously. “Can you make him better?”

“It will be difficult,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Qing nodded.

“His meridians are in a bad state,” she said. “His situation was severely aggravated on account of the sheer amount of resentful energy in the Burial Mounds, and then driven into complete crisis when Wei-gongzi unveiled the Tiger Seal, but he was already doing quite poorly. You must have noticed his temper getting worse, less patience, more irrationality…”

Nie Huaisang didn’t want to hear about that. “We’re surnamed Nie, that’s not too weird,” he said shortly. “Anyway, can you fix it?”

“We’ve stabilized him for now,” Lan Qiren said. “There’s no immediate danger.”

Nie Huaisang exhaled. That was – not ideal, but still something. Better something than nothing.

“There are a number of techniques that can be applied to try to correct the deviation,” Wen Qing said. “Including surgery to straight his meridians out again, which I can do. But that’s a one-time fix, and he’s in a state of deterioration; even if I fixed him up, he’d only continue to spiral again, and all the fixes for that take a lot more time and effort and continuous supervision. If it were just me, I’d say there wasn’t anything we could do short of cutting off his access to his golden core for a while – and that’s incredibly dangerous in its own right – but Teacher Lan here says that the Lan sect has some extremely powerful music spells that might be able to do something.”

Lan Qiren nodded. “There is one in particular,” he said. “The Song of Clarity –”

“Clarity would not work to fix Chifeng-zun,” Lan Wangji opined.

Lan Wangji looked distinctly shame-faced, though perhaps only someone who knew him very well would recognize that particular flavor of it.

“I see,” Lan Qiren said, visibly resisting the urge to sigh and offer Lan Wangji a conciliatory candy the way he had when Lan Wangji had been young enough to still think that all problems could be fixed by biting. Possibly it was just Nie Huaisang that recognized that very particular expression, having seen it the most often out of all available non-Lan sect members – he’d been Lan Wangji’s favorite target, after all. “And what exactly has your brother done that he doesn’t want me to know about?”

“How did he know?” Wei Wuxian whispered to Wen Ning in an undertone barely louder than a breath, though not quite enough to escape being overheard by Nie Huaisang, who standing right next to them. “Did Lan Zhan even change expressions just now? Is there some secret sign language involved?”

Clearly Nie Huaisang needed to give Wei Wuxian a crash course in ‘understanding Lan Wangji body language’, Nie Huaisang decided – beneficently, of course. It definitely wasn’t so that Wei Wuxian could more effectively annoy Lan Wangji to death, no, absolutely not.

(Anyway, Lan Wangji seemed like he enjoyed being annoyed to death by Wei Wuxian, so maybe it really was beneficent after all.)

Facing all of their gazes, Lan Wangji squared his shoulders. “Xiongzhang has been concerned regarding Chifeng-zun’s health,” he said. “Particularly in regard to his family’s tendency towards qi deviations, which xiongzhang fears may be aggravated by Chifeng-zun’s powerful cultivation and the ravages of war. He has been playing him Clarity as a course of treatment.”

“As a course of treatment?” Lan Qiren asked, looking startled, and – oops. Had Lan Xichen not told his uncle about what he was doing? Sneaky sneaky! Yet more proof that Lan Xichen was obviously the finest and most superior of all Lans. “Impossible. A few times at full strength, perhaps…”

Lan Wangji was shaking his head in denial.

“It’s impossible,” Lan Qiren insisted. “As an actual course of treatment, he would need to play for him at least once every fortnight – every week, if possible. Xichen is sect leader now. He simply doesn’t have the time or the freedom to depart from the Cloud Recesses on such a regular basis.”

“Brother said a course of treatment,” Lan Wangj insisted back, stubborn as a mule.

“I would have noticed if your brother were slipping away every half-month, Wangji!”

“Anyway, it’s impossible for another reason,” Wen Qing put in. “If Chifeng-zun were getting regular treatment to help clear his meridians, we would have noticed that when we examined him in depth just now, and he definitely hasn’t been.”

“No, that’s wrong,” Nie Huaisang said, and now they were all looking at him, great. “I mean, he is getting regular treatment, and has been for the last few months. And, uh, sorry, Teacher Lan, it is the Song of Clarity. Only it’s not er-ge playing it for him – as you said, he’s way too busy to come to the Unclean Realm as often as that – but rather san-ge who’s doing the playing. Er-ge taught him how to do it…”

Judging by the color that Lan Qiren’s face just turned, Lan Xichen probably shouldn’t have done that, either. Nie Huaisang mentally apologized to Lan Xichen for the horrible scolding he was going to get when Lan Qiren got ahold of him again, but he figured Lan Xichen would forgive him – it was for Nie Mingjue’s health, after all! The people treating him had to know everything, after all, or else they wouldn’t be able to take proper care of him.

“Well, that’s still bizarre,” Wen Qing said. “Either your sect’s song-spell isn’t nearly as powerful as you think it is, Teacher Lan, which seems unlikely, or else whatever-his-name is playing it completely wrong. Judging from the evidence, Chifeng-zun’s state has deteriorated the past few months, not improved.”

She frowned.

“Actually, now that I think about it…” she said, trailing off, and turned to poke at the diagnostic array still hovering over Nie Mingjue’s body. “Teacher Lan, look here, at the lower levels – think of it as a way of mapping the evidence of what happened over time, the way stone does when it’s being worn away, like by a riverbed. His spiritual veins are strong, and then the deterioration is very slow, then faster but still not fast, and then, here, it suddenly starts going very fast all at once…”

“A few months ago,” Lan Qiren said, studying the array. “Yes, you’re right, that’s when the severe downturn began.”

“Hey, Nie-xiong,” Wei Wuxian said, sounding artificially light-hearted – extremely artificial, actually, and maybe Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have noticed except that he’d said the exact same words earlier when he was actually being light-hearted and the contrast between the two couldn’t be clearer. “When did you say Lianfang-zun started playing the Song of Clarity for your brother?”

“A few months ago…no, no, you’ve got it all wrong!” Nie Huaisang said quickly, realizing what Wei Wuxian was implying. “San-ge has been playing it for him for over half a year! He was getting better!”

Lan Wangji cleared his throat.

They all look at him.

“There is the matter of the Jin sect,” he said. “And their proposal regarding the position of Chief Cultivator.”

“Chief Cultivator?” Wei Wuxian asked, looking amused. “What’s that? How can there be a chief? We’re all different sects, aren’t we…? Well, excluding rogue cultivators like me, I guess.”

“That is how it has always been, yes,” Lan Qiren said. “However, in the interest of preventing another Wen sect and another Sunshot Campaign, the Jin sect has proposed creating a position of Chief Cultivator, which would act as an arbiter for the cultivation world – solving problems, settling disputes, that sort of thing.”

“My brother thinks the idea’s complete trash,” Nie Huaisang volunteered. “He says that we didn’t go to all that trouble to make sure Wen Ruohan couldn’t make himself the lord over all of us using his armies just to let Ji– uh, to let Sect Leader Jin do it using his money.”

“Has he said this publicly?” Wei Qing asked, and Nie Huaisang gave her a strange look for a moment.

Then it occurred to him that she probably didn’t know his brother that well, or even his reputation, so he clarified, “Yes, of course. My brother isn’t the sort of person who says one thing in private and another in public. He’s very straightforward.”

“That’s not what I was getting at,” she said. “It was more…when did he say it in public? I don’t suppose – a few months ago?”

“Well, yes, it was – I mean –” Nie Huaisang hesitated.

“I get what you’re saying,” Wei Wuxian said, and his face was hard, back in the lines that had been cut into it during the Sunshot Campaign. “Nie-xiong, would you say that that whole argument happened right around – or maybe right before – the time your da-ge stopped getting better whenever your san-ge came to play for him, and started getting worse much faster?”

“Lianfang-zun,” Wen Ning murmured. “Jin Guangyao.”

“But – but – they’re sworn brothers!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “He wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t he?” Lan Qiren asked. He looked older, suddenly, and tired. “Are you sure?”

Nie Huaisang wanted to say yes, he really did, he really really did –

But he couldn’t.

“You know, when I said I was bored and that the Unclean Realm was boring, I really was trying to use it as an excuse to go somewhere else,” Nie Huaisang said. “Ideally the Lotus Pier, which has both good food and good shopping and Jiang Cheng, who is pretty funny sometimes – usually not on purpose – but I was willing to settle for the Cloud Recesses because then I’d get to see er-ge. But either way, I hadn’t intended for the end result to be to liven up the Unclean Realm. Or at least, you know, not quite so much, you know?”

“You’re getting exactly what you deserve, you noxious little brat,” his brother said. He was still lying in bed, although he had a desk on his lap that contained all his work. He looked a lot better now that he’d had the immediate intervention surgery Wen Qing had done to straight his meridians out and after both Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji had played him the Song of Clarity – the real Song of Clarity, not whatever messed up version Jin Guangyao must have been using on him – a half-dozen times over the course of as many days. He was even smiling again. “Don’t pretend like you aren’t enjoying it.”

Nie Huaisang was loving it. His home had never been so rowdy, not for as long as he could remember it, and it was already a pretty rowdy place to begin with – but anything got more rowdy when you threw in Wen Qing, who was there to supervise the aftereffects of the surgery, Wen Ning, who was there to assist her, Wei Wuxian, who was there to watch over the still-somewhat-unstable Wen Ning, the rest of the remaining Wen sect, who couldn’t be left on their own and undefended, and of course also Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji in all their grumpy majesty.

And it was going to stay that way.

Well, Lan Qiren, at least, was planning on returning back to the Cloud Recesses, since they were very firmly in the process of rebuilding and he was concerned that Lan Xichen couldn’t do the rest of the work without him, but Lan Wangji was being assigned to the Unclean Realm on a semi-permanent basis since both Wen Qing and Lan Qiren had agreed that Nie Mingjue needed to continue with a daily regimen of Clarity for at least a month, then shift over to three times a week, then two, then weekly, and eventually twice-monthly and monthly before finally, hopefully, tapering off for good. Lan Qiren planned to come back to visit on a regular basis to supervise the musical aspects, and Wen Qing wanted to remain on hand in the event of another crisis – and to study the medical implications of musical cultivation, which was apparently an area she’d completely neglected in her previous studies on account of the Wen sect not teaching much in the way of music.

And if Wen Qing was staying, then obviously Wei Wuxian was going to have to stay as well, a fact that very obviously delighted Lan Wangji to no end. The two of them were completely unbearable when together in a way that made Nie Huaisang pretend to gag and Lan Qiren start heaving long sighs and grumbling about not wanting to deal with matchmakers – which Nie Huaisang hadn’t gotten at first until he suddenly did, at which point he started pretend-gagging even more, just for the principle of the thing.

Possibly Nie Huaisang was also occasionally going and dropping a lit torch into a fire-starting array any time they were showing signs of getting boring, like how just that morning he’d oh-so-casually reminded Wei Wuxian that Lan Wangji used to like to bite people and how everyone used to say it was the way he showed affection, knowing that it would make the ever-competitive (though not as competitive as Jiang Cheng) Wei Wuxian start bugging Lan Wangji about whether or not he would have bitten him –

Nie Huaisang had hope that all that teasing would eventually make it through Lan Wangji’s otherwise impenetrable Lan sect reserve and he’d finally just drag Wei Wuxian into a bedroom and give him the biting he was asking for, but only time would tell.

“I admit to nothing,” Nie Huaisang said righteously, and hopped into the bed to curl up next to Nie Mingjue like he hadn’t since he was much younger. “You like it too. Don’t you?”

“I don’t like the political headache that comes with it,” Nie Mingjue pretended to grumble. “Not to mention that we’re now suffering an undoubtedly permanent infestation of those surnamed Wen – ugh.”

That complaint was probably genuine, Nie Huaisang reflected, since his brother had had to suffer the original Wen sect a lot more than Nie Huaisang ever had, but saving Nie Mingjue’s life meant they owed Wen Qing a life-debt. To pay it off, his brother, good and righteous person that he was, had officially buried his sect’s blood feud with hers, making them equal again, and now they had no grounds to be pissy with them or kick them out. The rest of the Nie sect loved their sect leader enough to begrudgingly forgive them as well, at least provisionally, but provisionally went an awful long way with the Nie sect. Unlike the Lan sect, they didn’t have a rule against bearing grudges, though they did it very well, thank you. It was just that they didn’t have the temperaments to do it more than once or twice in a lifetime, and the rest of the time they tended to forget about their wrongs pretty quickly and move on towards making friends.

All that, of course, meant that the Wen sect now had two places in the cultivation world that they could live – the rest of the cultivation world wasn’t exactly as incentivized to forgive them, obviously – and since the Burial Mounds were in fact pretty terrible, it was no surprise that they were much happier in the Unclean Realm.

“You can distract yourself by watching the Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian circus, like I do,” Nie Huaisang comforted his brother. “It’s really funny. And soon we’ll be able to host a wedding, won’t that be fun? And it won’t even have to be one for either you or me!”

“…that does sound fun,” Nie Mingjue allowed. “Everyone would enjoy that, and it’d be good for commerce, all the things you’d need for that – the Lan sect is still mostly investing in rebuilding, but I can’t imagine they’d allow their Second Jade to be married in anything less than the best.”

“I’ll paint them a nice couple set of fans as a wedding gift,” Nie Huaisang decided. “And you can make them a pair of supplemental spiritual weapons to match – you haven’t done that in ages, da-ge, and it used to be the thing you loved the most.”

Nie Mingjue looked seriously tempted, or at least he did to someone who knew him as well as Nie Huaisang did. His brother wasn’t actually an ascetic, the way Jin Guangyao had once or twice joked in a not-quite-joking tone he was; he just had different vices and hobbies than most men. No wine, women, or song for Nie Huaisang’s quixotic big brother, no – he liked steel, and forging, and sometimes dancing when he thought he could get away with it without losing face. Also those stupid overly complicated puzzles that Nie Huaisang needed to hunt up more of for him.

“I don’t know,” Nie Mingjue said, still hesitating. “My health –”

“I’ll get you cleared by Wen Qing,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “I’m sure she’ll say it’s good for you to engage in your hobbies more often, since you’ve been so bored without training Baxia so often.”

“I need to start doing that, too.”

“Ah, but you can only do that under supervision of doctors, and only in limited quantities until your qi improves. You need to fill your day with something that isn’t work, da-ge – doctor’s orders!”

Lan Qiren’s orders, to be more accurate. He’d been shoved into the role of sect leader, too, though he’d been older than Nie Mingjue was when it’d happened; he was now rigid to the point of unyielding on insisting that Nie Mingjue not allow himself to be swallowed up by it any more than he already had.

Anyway, his brother had already been very pointedly avoiding anything to do with sect business outside the sect, and in specific in relation to the Jin sect, and Jin Guangyao, which Nie Huaisang fully understood and supported. His brother might be tough on the outside, but he had a soft heart, and Jin Guangyao’s actions had broken it – it was better for Nie Mingjue’s health that he not think about it, at least for now.

Nie Huaisang had instead taken responsibility for external affairs into his own hands for the time being.

He wasn’t necessarily very good at it, he wasn’t good at much, but he was extremely capable of being very annoying and given the Nie sect’s current ascendant position in the cultivation world, that was all he needed to be to keep the Jin sect so busy guessing what he was up to that they’d (hopefully) be too busy to scheme any more.

And if Nie Huaisang had a scheme or two he was planning on trying back on them…well, that was his own business, right? Even if it failed, no one would be too surprised, he was just the stupid and useless second young master of Qinghe, after all.

No one broke his brother’s heart and got away with it. No one!

(Also, being in charge of external affairs meant that Nie Huaisang got to spend quite a bit of time sequestered with Lan Xichen, nominally ‘discussing sect business’, and it was great. They barely did any work at all!)

“All right, all right,” Nie Mingjue said. “You win, as you always do. Don’t you have anything better to do than attach yourself to me like some sort of parasite?”

“Nope! Cleared my entire morning just for this.” Nie Huaisang burrowed in more. “I’m going to steal all your heat away, da-ge, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Huaisang…”

“And later,” Nie Huaisang interrupted, marching all over his brother’s half-hearted protest, “you’re going to tell all the things you haven’t been telling me about our family’s cultivation style, and the saber tombs, and all of that.” His brother went very still. “You’re going to tell me, and then we’re going to figure out what we’re going to do about it together. All right?”

He waited to hear his brother’s response.

Instead, he felt the light touch of his brother’s palm on his hair.

“All right, Huaisang,” his brother said. “That sounds good. I’ll listen to you.”

“As you should,” Nie Huaisang said. “As you always should!”

“I’m not buying you any more fans, and you still need to train your saber.”

“Awww, but da-ge…!”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #lan qiren #lan wangji #wen ning #wen qing #wei wuxian #my fic #this is an old one from the vaults #I THINK I never got around to posting it #if it's actually a duplicate let me know #my fics

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lizhly-writes · 7 months ago

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hey guys do you wanna hear about my bad idea ahahaha i'm just joking i'm going to tell you whether you like it or not.

anyway! au where jiang fengmian brings back a starving orphan from the streets, and his name is yue qi.

(what happened to wei wuxian? don't worry about it it's fine) (idk maybe he doesn't exist? whatever)

yue qi is strong. yue qi is talented. yue qi tries harder than anyone. yue qi is perfect and you can't even really be irritated at him for it, because he's nice and polite and good-tempered and absolutely everything you could ask for in a da-shixiong.

jiang cheng feels so fucking bad about this. second best even in a whole new au, huh, a-cheng? but it's not your fault. even op protagonist bing-ge couldn't beat yue qi in a fair fight!

nobody knows this, though, so you're just going to have to suffer through the comparisons. it's your mom and your dad and all the little disciples thinking that yue qi is better than you. ooooh, that can't be good for that burgeoning inferiority complex your mom's instilled in you, huh?

but, you know. jiang cheng's going to be sect leader. he's going to need a strong sect. even if his mom fuckin bitches at him for not being as good as yue qi -- yue qingyuan -- then at least he's going to have a strong right hand, right?

HAHAHAHA.

so there are two routes we can go here. for the sake of my early morning ramblings, we're going to go for the more unrealistic one that requires me to jump through more hoops, because i think it's hilarious.

yue qingyuan starts getting more distant as he gets older. going on long nighthunts away from the lotus pier, you know. he stops leading the disciples in morning drills -- or, well, it's less that he stops, and more that he's not around to actually do that.

he's not around a lot.

snide, snide commentary about how yue qingyuan is going to run away to become a rogue cultivator, just like -- (but we don't talk about them). how yue qingyuan's not going to be da-shixiong for much longer. every time yue qingyuan returns to lotus pier, he seems to be more tired, more wound up, more stressed out --

and then everything stops. yue qingyuan comes back one day emotionally catatonic. he doesn't respond properly when people talk to him. unrelatedly (of course it's unrelated), there is some wailing and weeping in the night. some little shidi thinks that somehow a resentful ghost has made it into the pier and alerts da-shixiong about it in the morning.

thankfully, da-shixiong is back to normal in the morning. "i'll take a look," da-shixiong says, and then everybody forgets about it because da-shixiong is back and da-shixiong stops going on those long nighthunts away and everything is fiiiinnnne, don't worry. and if da-shixiong is a bit more brittle after that -- well, you're probably just imagining it.

jiang cheng worries about it. but yue qingyuan never says anything, because that's what yue qingyuan does. he never says annnnnnything to anyone.

of course, there's only so long you can argue with da-shixiong when the plot is coming up. gusu happens. the wens happen.

jiang cheng and yue qingyuan get sent to the wen evil summer camp, or whatever it's called. indoctrination, right?

lectures. drills. meaningless busy work for the sake of beating people down. obedience, and more obedience. there's a wen staring down every class, just waiting for them to slip up. there's one in particular that seems to have it out for yue qingyuan, sharp mouthed and pointy and HAHAHA OKAY, you've probably guessed who this is, haven't you? you're a genre-savvy audience, i bet!

ah, but i'll spell it out anyway, don't worry. for a-cheng, maybe, because jiang cheng can't guess, because yue qingyuan doesn't tell him anything. jiang cheng's out of the loop, on the outside, like he always is with yue qingyuan. don't worry, jiang cheng -- you're not special. he treats you like he treats everyone else.

but ah, that's the problem, isn't it?

jiang cheng stumbles over da-shixiong at night, past curfew, arguing with the wen. or, really, it's not arguing -- the wen is verbally eviscerating him, and yue qingyuan is just letting him. attacks on yue qingyuan's character and talent and everything, and about how yue qi's CLEARLY found a replacement (replacement? what does that mean?) and fine, you think you're so respectable now, of course only a high-bred sect heir is good for you (that jiang-gongzi, do you think he's a better version of me) (is this the version of me you've always wanted?) --

all yue qingyuan says is "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry--"

there's got to be one question on your mind, huh, a-cheng? yue qingyuan seems to know this wen. pretty well, it seems -- those insults aren't generic, this seems personal. why? how?

who the hell is wen qingqiu?

#liz rants #yue qingyuan #jiang cheng #that feeling when your beloved shixiong loves your sect enemy more than you #yue qi's already given his loyalty to someone else!#so i call this the more unrealistic route because i suuuuper think that yue qi should be able to find shen jiu under these conditions #like how is he not finding shen jiu if shen jiu's spent all this time staying one place #AND he's in a sect that lets him fuck off whenever he wants (jiang freedom woooo)#more realistically i think that he would have brought shen jiu back to lotus pier #and it is THERE that jiang cheng has the horrible realization that his best friend's best friend is not him #miserable in a different kind of way!#or well would jiang cheng even form this connection with yue qi to begin with? yue qi and wei wuxian aren't very similar i think #and even if he did would yue qi really think nothing of it?#there's a difference between being friendly with your fellow head disciples at cang qiong #and being forced in a weird pseudo-brother position at lotus pier #probably some different emotions there #but then where do you get this across the war lines drama #where do you get yue qingyuan cutting himself off from the jiang sect after the war to try and save his xiao jiu?#a-cheng let's prove all your fears right #all this time you truly weren't enough #clearly yue qi never really DID care about you #svsss #mdzs

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prince-liest · 1 year ago

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inspired by a series of convos in the 3zun server and also my own recent camping trip:

please imagine mundane modern au nieyao going camping

meng yao is like twenty-three, freshly graduated from college after having to take a gap year to take care of his ailing mother. nie mingjue is in his thirties, and knows meng yao as the responsible young man who befriended his brother and is probably one of the driving forces preventing nie huaisang from having skipped too many classes to actually earn a degree. he's not technically meng yao's boss, but he works in the same organization and he thinks it's perfectly acceptable to mosey on over to meng yao's actual boss during the interview process and give them a stellar review of what he knows of meng yao's work ethic.

the fact that meng yao eventually (read: very rapidly) gets promoted to work at nie mingjue's right hand is... probably fine. it's not too strange. in fact, they're friends! good friends! good enough friends that when nie huaisang finally puts his foot down and downright refuses to go on the nie annual camping trip, citing that he is a "real" adult now (whatever that means) and that means he doesn't have to spend a week in the woods every year getting bitten by mosquitos and hunting down the nearest wifi connection if he doesn't want to, da-ge, maybe it'd be cute for taking photos if they just went for the weekend - well, then nie mingjue retorts that he doesn't see the point in driving all the way out to yosemite for a single weekend and invites meng yao instead.

meng yao, on the other hand, is thinking: hm. he is pretty sure he has seen this porno. a week out in the woods with his hot older boss who is also his best friend's big brother. you couldn't fit more tropes into it if you tried. maybe if there were debt collectors after him and nie mingjue was a mafia boss.

(there are no debt collectors. meng yao has made certain of it. he has been very financially responsible in the aftermath of his mother's passing.)

nie mingjue is a responsible hiker and at least somewhat aware that he's taking somebody with no experience on a camping trip, largely courtesy of nie huaisang. meng yao ends up dressed mostly in nie huaisang's unused hiking clothes, packing his things in nie huaisang's unused hiking backpack, and sleeping in nie huaisang's unused sleeping bag. he looks up the price of the socks that nie mingjue handed him and then decides not to look up any more for the sake of his emotional wellbeing.

they make it to yosemite. meng yao has looked up all the things to do in yosemite valley, but for some reason they end up driving way farther north through some winding mountain roads that make him wonder if the car is just going to... tip over the side and neither of them will ever be seen again. for some reason there's a random porta-potty around one of the bends that meng yao silently stares at as they pass. it takes several hours to arrive, but there's a surprising amount of gas left over in the car for how much time the trip took.

the camp grounds are a little...

"isn't this a little crowded?" meng yao asks. "why don't we go farther into the woods?"

nie mingjue looks at him like he's the strange one. this is how meng yao learns that you cannot camp just anywhere inside of a national park. apparently it's okay, because most people are respectful of the common spaces. also, there is no shower in this specific camp. nie mingjue brought wet wipes.

these are not the ideal circumstances for fucking in the woods, but meng yao is a trooper and he understands that sometimes reality is a little more complicated than not safe for work media.

it's fine. besides, they get there pretty early in the day, all-considered. and it's spring, so it's still cool enough to go hiking at midday. a waterfall sounds pretty romantic, he thinks, watching nie mingjue work some kind of eldritch magic with tent poles while taking mental notes so that he can prove himself competent should he ever need to set up a tent again in his life.

an hour and a half later, meng yao is soaked through with sweat and half-convinced that he's developed adult-onset asthma. nie mingjue is glistening attractively. for some reason the incline of the 'easy' hike to a nearby waterfall that they're on suddenly turned into a rock climbing challenge in the last quarter mile. the worst part about going down it is knowing that he will have to go back up on the way back. there aren't that many people around, but if nie mingjue is taking him here to fuck him, then meng yao is going to simply have to throw himself into the river rapids and drown. it would be a kinder form of death.

they get to the waterfall. it is spring, so the river is flowing so strongly with icemelt that it's too dangerous to truly swim. meng yao considers at least dipping in, but when he puts his feet in, the water is so cold that he decides that he likes having physical sensation above his ankles, thank you. nie mingjue smiles proudly at him and tells him that nie huaisang usually complains up a storm by this point and that he loves his brother but it's nice to be with a more appreciative partner. something in meng yao's chest squeezes a little bit.

it gets a little tighter when he realizes that he's finished all of his water and nie mingjue crouches down to show him how to use the iodine water tablets on the river water. they make the water taste strange, but meng yao is mostly distracted by the fact that nie mingjue's mouth was just on the lip of the water bottle that he's about to drink from.

he drinks, tilting his head back. his hands are shaky with exhaustion and some of the water spills. it's cool on his chin and throat and he doesn't bother brushing it away - he's so sweaty that it's probably impossible to discern what's sweat and what's water anyway. when he opens his eyes again, nie mingjue is watching him.

they hike back. by the time they arrive at camp, meng yao's legs have entirely turned into jelly and nie mingjue takes pity on him, sitting him down in a camping chair with a beer and going off to pick up dry wood ("why would I buy firewood when deadwood is free?"). he teaches meng yao how to start a campfire, stacking small twigs in increasingly larger sizes until there's enough kindling to set the big logs ablaze. meng yao finds himself shivering in the dark, pressed up against nie mingjue's side and leaning towards the flames. funny, how he thought he would never feel cooled down again just an hour ago. his face burns, and his back is only cold until nie mingjue offers him a blanket.

they absolutely do not fuck that night, nor any other night. but meng yao has fun: he hasn't felt so free to learn and mess up and explore since he was a kid, and the absolute newfound freedom that he experiences when he once asks if they could go look at something off a path and nie mingjue says yes - says, in fact, that the whole point of going off into the woods like this is being able to do and see whatever you want, as long as it's within legal boundaries - means meng yao basically forgets his initial plan entirely.

they nearly get lost on their next hike, missing a turn in the established path and only turning around when they reach what could best be described as a ravine. there are more waterfalls - meng yao didn't know there were this many waterfalls anywhere in the world. they move campgrounds a few times, too. apparently it's quite difficult to get seven straight days booked in a yosemite campground. meng yao sets up the tent the second time. some of the campgrounds have showers, wooden buildings with cool water and moths fluttering around the lights. the most delicious meal meng yao swears he's ever eaten is the cheese-filled sausages nie mingjue roasts over a campfire, combined with cup noodles that they cook using water from the same camping stove tea kettle they use for their tea in the mornings.

eventually, it is time to go home. meng yao hasn't washed his hair in two days and doesn't remember the last time he heard the ping of his phone demanding that he put out yet another fire at work. he'd been asked to keep his phone on and check his email when he can during his vacation, but most of the places they've been don't actually have service.

they drive back through the same mountains as before. the porta potty is still there. meng yao actually points out its strangeness this time, and nie mingjue laughs. meng yao smiles. he's been smiling a lot during this trip. he feels vaguely like a new person. it's fresh air and endorphins, nie mingjue says. good for the soul. meng yao is pretty sure it's nie witchcraft, too.

(or maybe it's endorphins. he certainly gets a hot flood of those when, dropping off meng yao at his doorstep, nie mingjue finally hesitates - and steps close, mumbling, "didn't wanna make you uncomfortable while you were trapped in the woods with me, but..." before kissing him. his hands are so big on meng yao's hips.)

(they do fuck that night. but not before meng yao drags both of them into his shower and scrubs himself from top to bottom. yosemite was great, but he has standards.)

#mdzs #the untamed #nieyao #nie mingjue #meng yao #jin guangyao #my writing #long post #disclaimer: I love camping. i am nie mingjue in this scenario. LMFAO #my last birthday I literally fucked off into the woods on my own for a weekend with my own and it was glorious #I still don't know what that porta potty was doing in the middle of the barren mountainside but whatever it was appreciated #also ik my is normally more of a planner but please imagine in this situation he trusted nmj to have it all taken care of #this turned out mostly kinda sweet camping vibes #and also cured my writing bug so I am satisfied #storytelling post

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tavina-writes · 2 years ago

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yeah! I wrote a bit about how that section was more along the lines of "NMJ doesn't exactly have vices" vs "doesn't have other interests or hobbies!" here.

I really love this meta, because like, part of the problem with JGY feeling like he doesn't have a choice wrt to the stuff he does is because like, he thinks that he has to do those things in order to get himself into a position where he can be Normal and Accepted (Which he sees, rightly in part, as being tied to his social position in society), even as he does things that uhhhh make it even harder for society to accept him if they ever find out and this turns into a self perpetuating feedback loop of doing even MORE things to be Normal and Accepted.

I'm not sure how much JGY's desire to be normal is rooted in his desire to be accepted by other people/society at large and how much of it is like, a genuine want to be a good and normal person as society dictates? (Unclear where I'm going with this per se!) But there's a measure of safety in being socially acceptable, and I think what he wants most in life is to be safe -- though he has no way of understanding which choices lead to being safe/safer and as he makes ever increasing choices where he becomes more powerful he also ironically becomes less safe just because it could all unravel at any time and in fact does throughout the course of the novel.

All of the various types of masking the characters do throughout the course of the story are of course, really because they're stuck in a society where like, reputation and face are so so important, from the lowest rung of the social ladder to the highest, so they all have to interact with that in some way, and the choices they make about it are just So Crunchy.

Very fun thing actually about Jin Guangyao is he spent so much time and energy passing himself off as normal. The Normalest Guy, Look How Normal I Am. The Very Best And Most Skilled At Normal Things, Like Being Normal And Having Normal Opinions.

Which is great because on the one hand it reflects how he was kind of aware he absolutely was not. (And that by default this isolated him and this was Very Unsafe.) But on the other you see, with all the times he falls into the typical mind fallacy under stress and projects weird shit onto people, he also on some level believed everyone was doing this.

That being a Normal Person who had Normal Reactions to things, like being appalled by brutal violence, was an elaborate social lie everyone had to maintain to keep up the facade of civil society, and actually everyone was basically the same as him deep down. He was just better at it, and also the smartest.

Which is a very long way to say his character arc is heavily tied up with his evolving relationship with and skills at masking. I'm not gonna armchair diagnose him because that's beside the point, the point is that he is trying so fucking hard to be normal, but without a particularly well-developed definition of what's abnormal about him to begin with, resulting in some misfires.

And then you contrast him to some other characters and it gets more fun. One of his direct foils is Nie Mingjue, who literally does not know how to mask at all, not the slightest bit, but is fortunate enough to have been born the exact kind of weirdo his position in life demands, with special interests in 'saber training' and 'destroying evil.'

(He explicitly, per narration from wwx being inside his head, has no other interests and doesn't really understand the idea of having more than one activity you care about, do not tell me Nie Mingjue is walking around with a normal brain.)

So he is (jgy has a point about this, although he actually makes it about the luxury of having moral compunctions) free to totally embrace the conviction that everyone should basically be their authentic selves at all times, and just not do evil things about it.

On the other hand, and this really illuminates their relationship for me, Lan Xichen is absolutely trying to be normal. Like, he does try to excel, he wants to be best and he knows he's good, but as a person he is also trying to be as normal as circumstances allow.

He understands 'being normal about things' as a goal not in jgy's terms as an elaborate social fiction but as aspirational shaping of the self; if everyone is normal about everything then there won't be needless conflict. Living as normally as possible will optimize your mental health and your respect for others, and it's just a good baseline from which to be good.

Which is fine as far as it goes, but means harmless eccentricity (including gay) is to be tolerated and swept under the rug rather than really supported, and prejudices him to instinctively side with Jin Guangyao and anyone else who is pushing for Let's Be Normal About This, even when the people being weird are in the right.

(This is also to a non-zero degree a trauma response behavior; what Lan Xichen experienced as the largest existential threat to him growing up was something along the lines of being perceived as a selfish disruptor of norms, like his father.)

And then contrast that to Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji, who are both very concerned at least initially with how things and people and they themselves are supposed to be, and feel some responsibility for ensuring this supposed-to is reflected in reality.

But neither of them makes any particular attempt to be normal about it.

And then ofc Wei Wuxian, another jgy narrative foil, never attempts to pass himself off as normal. He will sell 'I'm better than everyone ever' and 'I'm scum of the earth' in the same breath before he will try for normal.

Except that he genuinely seems to think his most virtuous traits, his throw-himself-between-victim-and-weapon impulses, are basically normal. If not everyone (who isn't a total shithead) does it, it's because not everyone has his insane confidence they can pull it off.

Which in a good mood he would say is fair, because he is in fact awesome and really good at winning. (In a worse state of mind he would definitely hate on all the selfish cowards.)

Nie Huaisang is probably the most genuinely normal human being in the main cast, probably even more normal than Jiang Yanli, and he's very happy to play that up and present himself as actually even more normal and average than he is, in order to keep expectations down.

Up until his whole life gets fucked and this little pretense turns into the most elaborate and successful mask in the entire book.

#nie mingjue #jin guangyao #thinking about da ge every day #meta #poor suffering squirrel with a gun

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heymeowmao · 5 months ago

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2024.06.28 - https://weibo.com/l/wblive/p/show/1022:2321325050344135590145

bgm: 唯一的回答 (No Matter), Men in Love OST

LYN: It’s lagging? If it’s lagging, close the window then come back in. It’ll probably be fixed, then. LYN: Hallo everybody, good evening. I am Modern Brothers Liu Yuning. Welcome! LYN: Long time no see. I haven’t streamed for a long time, right? Actually I am a little tired today, but I still wanted to come stream, more or less, and to give you some comfort.

C: Have you recovered from your cold yet? LYN: I was over it a long time ago! I was sick a while ago, but I’m fine now. Is the nasal tone too heavy? I’m just a little tired, but it’s okay. I’ve come to play. LYN: I need to keep up my KPI, otherwise I won’t have streamed all month. That’s a little inexcusable. I still have to stream. Just because I’m an actor and singer now, doesn’t mean that I can give up on streaming. I should at least keep my quota. LYN: I’m afraid that when the time comes Weibo won’t give me my Livestream King title. I’ll ask them, “Why was I passed up for the title of Livestream King this year?” and they will tell me, “You didn’t stream for the month of June.” There’d be nothing I could say to contest. So, since this title is mine, no one else should think of taking it away from me. ~There will come a day when I take back what’s mine. That’s right- the 2024 Weibo Livestream King (award)!”

bgm: 我只愿朝着光 (I Only Wish to Face the Light), BYOL OST

C: Is it raining daily in Hengdian? LYN: Not every day, but it’s the season for it so it starts to pour every so often. Lately I’ve been filming when it’s pouring rain, though. It comes and goes and comes and goes. It’s quite humid. C: Is it hot? LYN: Of course it is. Shooting a guzhuang drama in the summer is asking for punishment. Hot is one thing, but it’s also stuffy and humid. If you’re standing outside in those clothes, I guarantee that not even a minute later you’ll have sweated through the under layers. It’s that hot.

C: Lao-da, I’m still watching KSTLB. LYN: Ok. I took some time while I was eating to take a look, because I always watch the variety shows that I’ve taken part in. LYN: Friends- don’t spoil it! I’m sure there are quite a few who are watching my stream that still haven’t watched the 9th episode yet. You can’t expose my identity! Wouldn’t that negatively influence everyone’s viewing experience? If they haven’t finished watching or haven’t started yet, but already know the result, that will influence their enjoyment. It won’t be “fresh”. If you aren’t watching (or reading the spoiler comments) it’s okay.

C: I’m listening to YOLO. LYN: Very nice. Listen to what you want to listen to.

C: Pick up another variety show for later. LYN: It should be a music variety. I have a music variety for later, so I will still have a show. It’s about time for me to pick up a music variety, so.. Let’s just wait. LYN: I feel like I don’t have enough experience anymore. When I first debuted I was young(er) and full of energy. I didn’t care about a lot of things. But now I feel like my body can’t keep up. I can’t keep up, mentally. My brain is working much slower than it used to. I keep wondering- did I get dumber after having contracted Covid? I keep trying to find excuses for myself. After I got Covid, I became stupider and it feels like I can never get enough sleep. It’s been a long time since I recovered from it, but I still feel slow. C: You’re getting older. LYN: Did you think that could hurt me? Let me tell you- I am hurt. /laughs/ No, I’m sure it has something to do with my age. Your Ning-ge- /coughs, old man mode activated/- Your Ning-ge is getting old. I’m not the young boy I used to be. I’m not the young man who debuted in 2018, full of youthful energy anymore.

- /singing along to his OST, but coughs from the effort/ LYN: I was originally planning to come here and sing some songs, but I’ve found that my voice is not in the best condition for it.

C: Lao-da, make a heart if you see me. LYN: I can’t stand the people that come into my stream and try to exchange signals. My stream is for the general public, not for you alone. If you want to imagine that my stream is a one-on-one service, that’s okay, but don’t make me send you any signals.

C: Ning-ge, will your drama air in the second half of the year? LYN: I don’t know. When it all comes down, I’m just an actor. The broadcast schedule of a drama is not something I can determine, and it’s not something I am worthy of knowing. It sounds a bit cruel, but it’s the truth. Often times the actors don’t even know if or when their drama will air. We might only be notified a few days in advance, and told to record some promo video to post. We don’t normally get much advance notice. So.. wait. LYN: There’s that methodology isn’t there: “Your only job is to keep working hard, and the rest is up to Heaven’s will.” Was that cheesy? But the logic is that you just keep on shooting dramas, and people are bound to like one of them.

C: I’ve been in the midst of “archeology.” (looking up LYN’s past history) LYN: Ok. You can… but the workload is a lot. Jiayou. You work hard.

C: Ning-ge, I’ll see my test results the day after tomorrow. Can you wish me well? LYN: Of course, I hope that you will get a good score. I hope that your scores are high. Jiayou. I hope you can go to the school of your choice and that you can achieve everything you wanted. Jiayou. (x2)

C: Can you say something in English? LYN: OK. How is it? Didn’t that sound perfect? O-K. LYN: Very good. You are so beautiful. Very good.

C: What does that mutual stabbing in SJYM mean? LYN: What does it mean? It means that- what’s it to you? You can watch it when the drama airs. Are you expecting me to give you drama spoilers?? Ask, ask, ask. Do you think that’s something you should be asking?? You think I look forward to seeing a headline that reads, “LYN reveals the whole SYJM script online”?? How could I do that?! C: You’re so mean. LYN: Sorry. When people are tired and have low blood sugar they might tend to be more explosive. Excuse me. Allow me to reply to that question again. Someone asked, “What’s up with the three of you stabbing each other? Can you tell us about it?” My reply was perhaps a little abrasive, when I said, “What’s it to you?”. Let me reply properly, now… - /prepares/ LYN: What business is it of yours? :) LYN: Look, I’m asking with a smile. How gentle. LYN: What business is it of yours? If it doesn’t concern you, please don’t ask. C: Isn’t it the same??

C: Release more pictures. LYN: I rarely take selfies anymore, so there’s nothing in the storage to post. Let’s revisit this when I have an opportunity to save up some more photos.

C: Ning-ge, you were touched at the airport? LYN: Last time I went to Changsha to shoot for a show, and a fan at the airport touched me, a little. It’s okay. I’m a grown man, a small touch would not lose me a piece of meat. But my “it’s okay” does not mean “it’s okay to touch me”. That is, try your best not to make contact. No, not “try your best not to” but “don’t attempt it at all.” What I meant by “it’s okay” was that the incident has passed, so I’ll let bygones be bygones. I don’t need to find out who that person is, in order to attack them. LYN: I was thinking about it on the way home and I came to a conclusion. I really don’t like people touching me; I don’t think it’s very resepctful. But I was thinking that maybe when I walked in front of her something else floated by. My hand”some”ness. So this person smelled (?) my handsomeness and couldn’t help themselves. That’s what I was thinking when I was home and lying in bed. That’s what I was thinking, so I have forgiven that friend. Because it’s because of me, that they could not control themselves. So I’ll let it go, but give a strict reminder when I’m streaming. LYN: I’m joking, joking. But I hope that the next time we see each other, we can communicate with manners. Okay? Don’t touch me. If you touch me next time, I’ll report you.

-----

C: Wish me a Happy Birthday! LYN: Many of you are celebrating your birthday today, yeah? Ok, then Happy- Let me record a voice message for you. Let me close the captions. You can turn on your screen capturing program now and record this video message. You can save it to your phone so that when you’re celebrating a birthday you can just play it. Today, for all of you in the stream, I will record my well wishes. I’ve already turned off the on-screen captions. Let me fix my hair- oh, it’s even uglier. /fixes it again/ Okay. Let’s go. LYN: Hello, everyone. I am Liu Yuning. I’d like to wish the friend in front of me a Happy Birthday, and I hope you can be happy every day and that all goes smoothly. LYN: Was that okay, friends? C: No, it wasn’t personal enough. LYN: Is that so? Then, I’ll record all the other versions too. “Hello, I am LYN. I’d like to wish-” /moving his mouth/ I’ll make the shapes with my mouth and then you can go and dub it yourself. “- a Happy Birthday!” Okay? 3, 2, 1. Start! - /Birthday Wish Video Message V2 (fill in the name ver.)/ C: It was too fast! LYN: What do you mean “it was too fast”! Is your name four to five characters long? My mouth moved four times, that should be about enough! C: It went too fast, I could’t record it in time. LYN: There’s the playback. When we’re done you can go back to find it. - LYN: Friends, let me also record a wedding one for you to use when you get married, because many of you aren’t yet. Okay, ready? 3, 2, 1. Record. LYN: Hello everyone, I am Liu Yuning. I’d like to congratulate ZZZ and YYY on their wedding. I hope you are blessed with children soon and may you live a long and happy life together. LYN: Perfect. - LYN: Look at that. Usually when you want a video like this from an artist, you have to rely on your connections to get you a chance but here I just give it to you directly. When you get married, you can play this clip from me and tell people, “This is my friend.”

C: Ning-ge, can you record one for my successful grand opening (of a business)? LYN: Friends, it’s like this. Many people will ask me for such video messages, but most of the time I don’t record one. Especially for businesses, I pretty much never agree to record one, because I don’t think that these messages should be used for marketing. A message for your grand opening would turn this into business. In that case, we’d need to discuss collaboration and a contract. LYN: We don’t do business messages here. But if it’s for something between friends like a birthday or wedding, that’s okay. If it’s for business then at the very least you should be transferring me 200rmb before I’ll record one for you.

C: Record a wake-up call. LYN: … I think I have, before? I think I went on some show and they asked me to record a wake-up call for my fans. I’ve done this before.

C: Then just record another one! I don’t want the old one, nor do I want to try to find it. LYN: How lazy you are! You just want everything handed to you. You want too many things.

C: Are we making video messages today? LYN: No, someone earlier is celebrating their birthday. I won’t joke anymore. LYN: I wish everyone present in my stream- if you’re celebrating a birthday today- that you can be happy every day. Also, you’re one year older now, so… learn something. LYN: I meant that in a good way!

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bgm: 陽光總在風雨後 (Sunshine After the Rain) > 热辣滚烫 (YOLO), YOLO Movie OST

C: Have you decided on your next drama? LYN: Why did you have to bring up such a sensitive topic? Well, it’s not that sensitive, because I have been seeing what people are posting so I did want to talk about this the next time I streamed. But then I couldn’t figure out how to say what I wanted to say. Sometimes when I need to say something relatively stricter, I always think about how I should say it. I want to make sure I’ve thought it through first. Usually when I touch upon a topic, I’ve already thought of about 70% of what I want to say. LYN: Sometimes people take my content out of context. Maybe if you spend ten minutes listening to me talk about the same topic, you wouldn’t misinterpret what I’m trying to say. But just one wrong word can trigger something which makes the whole thing sensitive. Do you get what I’m saying? You only focus on the few seconds, but don’t get the concept of what I’ve spent ten minutes to explain. It creates ambiguity. So that’s why… when I haven’t thought something through all the way I don’t particularly want to talk about it.

LYN: But since we’re on the topic, let me share my thoughts. What I’m saying now has nothing to do with other artists, and it is especially not directed anyone else’s fans. Right now, I am speaking to my own fans. In reference to what dramas I will pick up: I won’t say, “I’ll pick up what I want to, you don’t have to worry about it.” That’s not what I mean. But I do want to say that I am a 30+ year old grown adult- approaching 40. Every decision I make in my life in regards to my work has undergone careful thought or there are reasons behind my choices that you are unaware of and I cannot tell you. It might not be the ideal choice you want me to make, but they are choices that I’ve made after careful deliberation and reflection. Also, I’m sure that I would understand better than about 90% of you watching- how to be an artist. You have to admit that, right? I used to just be a street busker, who somehow went viral, established himself as a singer, and is now an actor. Right? I’m sure that I know better than 90% of you what things I should be doing and what dramas I should be accepting. Before, too, many of you wouldn’t acknowledge the decisions I made. When you look back you should realize that there must have been a reason I had made my decision. LYN: You need to trust me. Of course, there were times that my choices were a mistake- that’s a given. Rather than a “mistake”, they were the best choice I could make at the time. Looking back on those decisions now might leave you with regrets, but they were the best choice could have made at the time. They were choices I made after consideration of my position at the time. You just need to trust me. No one can tell what the results will be, but I have my reasons for making the decisions I do. That’s what I wanted to share with you.

LYN: Also, I won’t… how do I say this… I won’t just numbly do something without considering it first. I’m getting older, so there’s no way I would blindly do something. Every variety show I participate in, every song I release, my concert, and the dramas I accept- all decisions are made after making careful considerations. I won’t accept something just because it pays me more. Honestly, a few years ago when I was marketing, I made a lot more than I do now. But I don’t do that anymore. If there’s one thing you can trust me for, it’s that I will never make my decisions based on profit.

C: Got it, Ning-ge. I understand. Ning-ge is someone who “considers money as trash”! LYN: Are you trying to kill me? That’s anti-fan talk, right there. What artist in this world would dare to say that “money is no object to me.” Who dares?? Stop putting labels on me. LYN: I’ve said before, that I don’t think of money as money. I think of it as my life. If it’s supposed to be mine, then it’s mine. If it’s not mine to make, then so be it.

C: Ning-ge, you’re right. Looking back, 90% of your choices were the right one. LYN: They’re… not necessarily “right.” I just feel like… when I am looking at projects… I’ll filter it through a bunch of miscellaneous thoughts before I make my decision. When I receive a project, of course I am honored to have received notice of it in the first place. Secondly, I will look at it from different angles: 1. The Script, 2. The Production Company, 3. The Platform, 4. [???] - there’s no ranking to this!- 5. Director, 6. Actors. I will consider all these factors to look at the project comprehensively before making a decision. I don’t only look a the script, think it’s good, and make my decision. Or think, “Wow, this actor is a big name. I should collaborate with them.” or “This Director is amazing, I should accept.” I don’t only look at one factor, but look at the project collectively.

C: You’re really talking in depth about it. LYN: I won’t anymore. It’s just something that I wanted to share. My decisions aren’t made in jest. There’s a reason behind the choice I make for the work I choose to do. I choose it for a reason. I hope that you can… respect- no, trust me. I don’t think I can ask for your respect, but at least trust me. Trust in my choices and we’ll be ok. LYN: Additionally, don’t tear down anyone I work with. This is something I keep repeating. Don’t fight about anyone I’ve worked or collaborated with. At this point I have a clear understanding of the tricks of “how to be an artist”, but I don’t want to use them and I don’t advise any of my fans to implement them either. I hope you can do that for me. Let’s just play among ourselves. C: What if other people come to start fights with us? LYN: Just… don’t fight back. This is the nature of fighting. You can… How do I say this? When you fight back, that’s when we start hurting each other. Do you get it? At first it’s a favorable condition, but once you start fighting back then you’re just mutually hurting one another. It’s that simple. LYN: I don’t know. Let’s not talk about such a sensitive topic anymore. LYN: Just block them. Pretend you didn’t see anything and block them. If you see something you don’t like, just mark the post as “not of interest” and leave it at that.

---

LYN: Also, I see that a lot of you care a lot about me- a bit like my mother. 1. Like my mother, and 2. Like my manager. You’ll say, “Your wig, Ning-ge! The wig is too low! What’s wrong with your drama crew? Can’t they see that they’ve put your bangs too low?? If you keep on like this, it won’t do at all.” “You don’t respect Ning-ge! How could you put his wig on so low???” /sigh/ I’ve seen those posts, and that you’ve even tagged the director in them. I really don’t know where you learned this behavior. You can’t learn the good things, but you sure can pick up this type of thing quickly, one after another! You’re either attacking wardrobe saying, “The clothes you made for my idol don’t look good. They’re too ugly! What the hell is that?? What’s with the texture? Why is the color like tomatoes and eggs?” or “This wig is on too low, why don’t you just start it at his nose??” Actor-fans can’t learn one good thing, but they sure can learn the bad without missing a beat!

LYN: I want to tell you something, my friends. In regard to my wig being too low: you shouldn’t judge whether the wig is low or not just based on leaked photos. This thing (the placement of the wig) is based on where the camera is stationed. First of all, we’re not recording from an angle that looks like we’re filming sneakily. If you’re looking at it from where the paparazzi are- they’re either very high or very low, or in some weird place trying to catch a glimpse of us as we spend our days filming. The angles at which they are taking these pictures are quite strange and deceiving. DO YOU KNOW?? They aren’t shooting at the right angles because 1. since they’re not close enough the dimensions get skewed and 2. if I’m shooting at ground level and they’re 10m up, looking down at me- do you think the angle of that sneakily taken picture will come out well?? That’s why I want to say, that the high or lowness of my wig and whether it looks good or not depends solely on where the camera is. Because in the end it’s going to be recorded, edited, and turned into a drama for your viewing based on the location of the main camera. LYN: Let me tell you about it from a different angle: you can’t tell with your eyes whether the wig is on high or low. You might think that the placement is just right when looking with your eyes, but through the monitor it’s higher or lower. Everything- low or high, makeup, wardrobe, color, texture- all of it is based on how well it appears on the monitor. Friends, that’s the way it is.

C: You’re getting worked up? LYN: No- this is not how I act when I’m agitated. This is a purposeful performance persona that I’m using to tell you about these things, so that you don’t think I’m actually angry about it. I’m executing this as a performance, to tell you about it so that you find it interesting. C: Do you have other personas? LYN: What type of persona do you want to see? 🙂

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LYN: Of course, there could be times where you sometimes pretend that you understand the visual of the historical drama wig. You could understand it, you could know, and you could THINK that you know. You can pose it as a question- “Do you think Ning-ge’s wig looks a little low?”- and share it with others, but don’t just directly start pointing fingers at the hair and makeup artists and demanding, “Do you know how to do your job??” This is their profession, so I’m sure that they know better. What I’m trying to say is: try not to create friction. In the end all of these elements are optimized to look best based on the final recording and how it looks in the monitor. Right? Otherwise why would the phrase “on camera” exist? If everything were made to be seen with your naked eyes or in a photo, then we wouldn’t be having this discussion. The standards are made for the main camera, okay? Listen to me.

C: The YNGS wig was low. LYN: Honestly, I’ll admit to that. That was a tiring drama to film- we had some very long days of shooting. Once you move or sweat, the seal releases and the wig starts moving. If we’re still in the middle of filming, all they can do is glue it back down so that you can continue. The more times they glue it back down again, the lower it becomes. If you put it too high to begin with, the whole thing will just slide off the back. It’s true that in YNGS, you’ll discover that some scenes are very good but others are low. It’s because we took many shots that day. Whenever the seal starts to open, we’ll pull and glue it back down. The more we pulled, the further down it ended up.

LYN: This time though, we’re quite strict about it. This time, there’s a standard of measurement for the positioning of my wig, too. That is, I’ll use my beads to measure the length. This is how I do it- I’ll take this strand, start at my hairline, and count the number between my hairline and the point of my nose. It’s twenty beads. I start to count… “1, 2, 3, …. 19, 20. 21?!” “No, this won’t do, laoshi. It needs to be twenty. Look.” - /puts the beads back to his hairline, counts, and tells them where it needs to be/ LYN: “This is the highest it should be. Okay, nice!”

LYN: That’s what I do, now. Why did I start to play with beads? It’s because it’s a string of beads- it may look like a stress relieving tool, but it has another function as a measuring tool for the height of my wig. C: Ning-ge, but what if you have a jingang bodhi today, but fengyan tomorrow? LYN: On a fengyan, it’s 18 beads. I have a standard of measurement for every strand I own. // Xinyue bodhis are 28 beads, because they’re smaller in size. LYN: I carry these beads around everyday, but it’s not a sure thing what I’ll use them for. So friends, you don’t have to worry. My wig is placed at the same height every day. You might think it’s high today, but by tomorrow you won’t think it’s low. [??] The logic is that I’ve used these beads to measure. I’m not kidding. C: I can’t believe people are buying this. LYN: I’m being serious. /unconvincingly/ I’m being serious about this, at least. This one is really true. C: /doesn’t believe him/ LYN: You think I’m bluffing and joking?? I’m being serious~!! FOR REAL!! LYN: I’m saying that we do measure it, but we don’t use the beads to do it. Friends, honestly, we use a measuring tape. That’s strict enough, isn’t it?

C: Ning-ge, when you measure it tomorrow take a picture as proof. LYN: …? You- /laughs/ There are two angles to this. 1. Why should I take a picture, just because you told me to? And 2. If you don’t believe me, why don’t you find the proof? How is it that you don’t believe I use a measuring tape, and you want me to prove that I do? I have to provide the evidence myself?? Fine then, when I’m finished with makeup tomorrow I’ll grab the measuring tape and snap a photo for you.

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C: Can you talk about 618? LYN: They day that I sang? 618 is a Hunan Satellite TV event. Actually, when I’m already in a drama crew I will rarely accept invitations to events like these because I feel like it would split my attention. I’ll be focusing on shooting the drama when they want me to stop and do something else. What I mean by that is that I have limits- my mental capacity has a limit and I don’t really like to go out. But sometimes when I’ve been in the drama crew for too long, there are moments when I do want to get out and wander around and take a breather. Even if that’s going to the market and eating some crayfish. It’s still feels relaxing. You need that balance between work and rest. So I went to Changsha.

LYN: At the start they had asked me if I would do a set of songs. I asked which ones, and they mentioned three. I said, “Okay, but the problem is… these songs are all from last year or two years ago.” I was thinking that they’re making it seem as if I’m not prolific enough- that’s what I was thinking! They found my best OSTs from the previous years. But I was- :(. I CAN do it, since they’re songs that people have acknowledged, but the fact that I would be singing songs from previous years and not this one gives me the feeling like I haven’t done much this year. I feel like I am being eliminated by time. So I didn’t want to sing them, since it made it seem as if I hadn’t made any breakthroughs this year. But there’s YOLO- it counts as this year, right? and Offer- even though it’s from last year, but it’s special to me. 1. It was my first lead role and 2. I sang it. It means a lot to me. So we agreed on these two songs, and I went.

LYN: Six days before I was set to go, I started catching a cold. Those days I was wearing the armor, with the mask and hat- you know the look. We were shooting fight scenes, and after I would be soaked with sweat- you know how hot Hengdian was- and I would head straight for the air conditioning in that state. At first I thought I was fine- it just felt really great. When I was standing under the AC I would think, “OMG, this feels great~” I thought I was going to die, I couldn’t catch my breath, but the AC felt great. And then I got sick. I gave myself a cold. LYN: I felt terrible. Because normally I rarely get sick during the year- maybe only once or twice. But this time I got sick. If you look at the leaked photos, you can see me blowing my nose. I was blowing my nose or sneezing every other minute. I was in it. But the weird thing about this cold was that even after a week I still hadn’t recovered. Because I knew that a week later, I would have to attend this event. In my recollection, if you’re not well in three days, you be well in four. If you’re not well in four days, you should be more than fine by five. But it was seven days and I was not fine yet. It was getting to the deadline and I was dumbfounded. LYN: I couldn’t speak without sniffling, and I had this event to attend. As a singer I hold myself to a standard that I must sing live. If I went, I’d need to sing live, but I was sick. Also, it seems that audiences have higher standards for singers. Because of a certain variety show, now audiences have high standards for singers. Because they like to take the singer’s raw vocals and put it through some software to see how accurately they’re singing the notes. It’s not as if I was afraid of singing live- I like it. I enjoy singing live, and it’s when I’m recording that I don’t feel anything. But I was thinking, “I’m done for.” I- Liu Yuning- have spent the past month and a half shooting a drama and finally got the opportunity to go out and attend and event to show my face, take some nice pictures, and look handsome. To go on stage and sing some songs that myself and everyone else likes- my own songs- so that I can leave behind a wonderful stage and beautiful image. How nice is that? But I was sick.

LYN: I felt terrible. Deeply pained. What could I do?? What if the time came and my voice cracked? I would be trending at No.1 with the topic “LYN_SoundsTerrible”. It would be the end of me. What do you think would happen- do you think I would still be able to keep business in the OST industry? How was I going to keep getting jobs? Would I still be the “Bodyguard of Love”? I started thinking all sorts of things. I was terrified. I’d arrive in Changsha on 6/16 and perform on the 17th. I woke up at 8am on the 16th, went into makeup and shot a whole day of scenes. After that I headed straight for the airport, flew to Changsha, and went straight for rehearsal as soon as I landed. And then… - /preps/ LYN: Normally, everyone has to go rehearse. The first thing you do is to test the mic- you have to listen to the ration between the in-ears and vocals, because you’re singing live. It needs to be tested. I went like this- -- 奉上 (purposefully singing poorly every once in a while) LYN: That’s how I sounded during rehearsal. Because first, I was sick and second, I was up all night so my condition was the worst it could be. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to control the high notes, but I had to pretend that I could handle it. I said, “Sorry, laoshi”- I used the mic to tell them- “Sorry”- I was giving myself an out- “Let me try again. Maybe I haven’t been on stage in too long. Let me try that again. /coughs/.” I purposefully coughed so the mic would pick it up. /coughs/ To secretly tell them that I was sick. “This is not reflective of LYN’s actual skill. Please don’t regret inviting me.” So the first rehearsal was done. The second time around director came and asked me if I wanted to do another run, and I said yes. “I want to try that again. /cough/.” Ok- LYN: The second time I only had five words in my head: pretend it’s the real performance. I had to do it seriously this time, because honestly the first time I wasn’t trying that hard. Because the purpose of it was to test the mic levels, to make sure the audience is hearing well and that my in-ears are working right. The second time around I have to give it my all. “Even if I ruin my voice, I will not crack this second time.” I’m sure that there are fans in the audience who spent money to get a seat. Every time I rehearse, there are always these fans who use alternative means to get through the back door. If they hear me sing badly, they’re going to stop being my fan. Usually, the people who can afford to spend money to get into the venue- even though as artists we do not condone this behavior of using improper means- it proves one thing: they either have money or have connections. They’re fans with a different type of skill. Of course, all of my fans are important to me! I’m just afraid that you’ll think, “Ning-ge sound like THIS live? Forget it. UNSTANNED!” So for the second time I was thinking that even if I ruin my voice tonight and I can’t speak tomorrow, I still have to sing properly. Let’s do it. -- 奉上 (take 2) LYN: /interrupts himself to say/ I think I was wearing this exactly, that day. This hat and these shades.

LYN: People need to find their confidence. After the first high note, I was much more relaxed for the rest of the song. After that I didn’t crack too terribly. But honestly, I wasn’t the best. I was thinking the next day I wouldn’t do ANYTHING. I would go home, shower, and just lie on the bed and have a good sleep. I needed to sing live for the performance, and I didn’t want to be laughed off the stage. It wasn’t worth it. I had enough ridicule as a singer five years ago. Maybe three years ago. But in the recent three years very few people have attacked me for being a singer. This is the truth. Five years ago, everyone just thought I was “internet famous” so when I was singing and called myself a singer they said, “What “singer”?? You’re just internet famous is all.” But in the recent three years very few people have questioned my identity as a singer. Because they’re rejecting my identity as an actor instead. So I don’t want to sing this song poorly and destroy my image as an actor- I mean- as a singer. Because I’m on the “actor” stage of my life now. If you take away my identity as a singer, the next thing they’ll be saying is, “LYN, you aren’t worthy to be a streamer.” They won’t even let me stream. They don’t think I’m worthy enough to be anything.

LYN: I wasn’t quite satisfied with my performance that night, because I didn’t sing well. In Offer, the first two high notes of the chorus weren’t very stable and I was noticeably off-key for one of them. There were a few places I was outrageously off key. For YOLO, it was my first time singing it live. I really was nervous that day. Usually I’m not nervous when attending these types of events. But I was really nervous that day, because I knew that I wasn’t in the best condition. I knew that I didn’t sing the first song as stably as I could have. I didn’t sing it well. So then for the second song, I wanted to find that stability back. I tried. And then- I started the song too early. I started the song a beat too early. - /plays the song/ LYN: In this part (the vocalization) I was supposed to be melancholy. I was supposed to be walking towards the rear of the stage, because they had told me “Ning-ge. When you finish Offer, walk back towards the stage.” I was planning it all out. I would walk, and when it reached the end I would open up my arms as if I were embracing the light and embracing the future. I was thinking that since I didn’t sing my first song well enough, I should at least pull off the second. The arrangement started and it went to my head. - /playing it out again/ LYN: I jumped in too early. /holds a not to get back on beat/ I was dazed. I was thinking “It’s over.” I made myself look cool for nothing!! I messed up and it’s a flop. I entered the song too early. That’s such a basic thing, too!! So I was wondering how I could make up for the slip and pretended it was okay. In the later part of the verse I purposefully dragged it, to see if I could trick the viewers. Only the viewers watching live- I can’t trick anyone watching the playback later. /reenacts/ I forgot exactly what I did, but I was thinking that since I came in too early, I would drag out the end and it would look like that was all part of the plan. It would only work to trick anyone who was watching the performance at the time, but not for anyone watching the playback.

C: Ning-ge, I thought you forgot the lyrics. LYN: I didn’t forget the lyrics. I was just too excited, that day. Excited, nervous, and most importantly because I knew that my condition wasn’t the best because I was sick. I was really afraid of cracking, so I wasn’t relaxed. But from the moment I made my first mistake I started relaxing because I knew it couldn’t get any worse than it already was. From the moment I entered too early, it took me 3-5 seconds of nerves before I just let go completely and finished off the song.

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C: How was the fan support? LYN: It was nice. But maybe it’s because lately I’ve just been shooting in the crew and haven’t gone out much, but you shouted so loud you gave me tinnitus. I was thinking it was a but too loud. You all were shouting too fiercely. I usually finish up my business and come out side to greet you, right? But this time when I went out your shouting gave me tinnitus. When I got on my car I felt like my ears were ringing.

C: Were you afraid? LYN: Afraid? What’s there to be afraid of? No, why would I be?? If I were walking along and you quietly came and held out a letter to me, then I would be afraid. You’re very welcoming, so there’s no need for me to be afraid.

C: Ning-ge, you sang the wrong lyrics at 618. LYN: You just came in didn’t you, kid? Did you just arrive now? I already spent about 15 minutes talking about my experience at the 618 event. I talked about the whole process and what I was thinking. I already finished talking about it, and NOW you come in to tell me that I missed some lyrics?? You came late. You can watch the playback later.

C: When are you streaming until? LYN: I’ll stream for a while then leave because I’ve got a day of filming tomorrow and I have to go over my scenes. I have quite a lot of them in this drama. Every one of them is a challenge to shoot. It’s very complicated. But of course, I believe that- as with everything- as long as you put in enough hard work you will be rewarded. How much is unknown, but there is a reward. So that’s why even if it’s tiring to shoot this drama, I still think it’s okay.

C: Ning-ge, when will Cicada Girl air? LYN: They’ve asked me to go do the voiceover recently. I don’t know where it is in the censorship process, but they’ve asked me to supplement the voiceover. From the actor’s perspective, I’ve been asked to redo lines that weren’t executed well or need to be changed. I really don’t have a lot of scenes in this drama. Maybe only 200 or so. It only took be a month and a half to finish all my scenes. I have very little scenes, and the whole show only has 24 episodes. All you need to do is watch and support it when it airs. LYN: A couple days ago when Ziwen-jie was doing her voiceover, she sent me a message. She asked me if I had done my part yet, and I told her that I received the notice but haven’t gone to the studio yet. She said, “It’s good! I almost laughed myself to death, it’s very amuding.” I replied, “Is that so? How is it- my acting?” She’s seeing the edited parts already, since she needs to do her lines, so I just asked her how my acting came out. “Is it okay?” She said, “Uh- okay. Let’s talk later! I need to finish my lines!” XD LYN: I’m joking. Don’t take that seriously. The content of my stream is a joke. Please don’t take it seriously. LYN: I asked her, “How’s my acting?” and she replied, “It was very good. I think it’s very amusing and it was funny when we were filming it, too.” She meant that it was fun even while we were shooting it. I let her go, since she needed to finish her lines. I’ll see it in any case, when I go to record mine.

C: I’m not a fan, I just happened to scroll by. LYN: It’s fate that brough you here. Everyone is a guest. With so many people in China, among the vast sea of people the fact that you and I are able to meet is fate. An encounter is centuries in the making, and millenium makes a marriage. In a decem-millenium (10,000 years) you scroll across my weibo. Think about how cruel fate is. You can only come across my weibo after 10,000 years! That’s fate. So, if you haven’t yet subscribed to my weibo, please do so. Thank you. - [t/n: the original quote is decade & century. 十年修得同船渡,百年修得共枕眠]

C: I’m your antifan. LYN: You’re here to turn yourself in? That’s great. Antifans are… Forget it- I feel like if I say the same thing I did the last time it won’t have any meaning. There’s a promise I made with my antifans in my last stream- you can go watch it. C: The 30-year promise. LYN: Right. I said in my last stream that as long as an antifan can continue to do so, within 30 years there will come a day where they realize they actually love me. Believe it. Let’s wait and see.

C: Lao-da, you’re trending. LYN: It’s not a hate-topic is it? I didn’t say anything! D: I didn’t say anything wrong today, did I? bgm: 世世 (Lifetime) - Legend of Shen Li OST LYN: Friends, you said- There’s a problem, which is- do you know why it’s taking me so long to look? Because I can’t find any trending topic. LYN: /is sad/ bgm: JVKE - Golden Hour LYN: /singing & “sobbing”/ LYN: See friends, people always say that LYN has ulterior motives. He’s so conniving- all of his projects are gained by drinking and chatting with people. Look at me now, though. I can even be tricked by netizens in my own stream. I’m someone who’s easily tricked by scammers. The phone scams can even trick me sometimes. So how could I have the brains to pull myself resources and work?? That’s why, you should never try to understand a person based on what others say about them. How should you understand them? From the heart. Use your heart to understand them. LYN: I had a line that went: “If you want to understand a person, don’t use your eyes.” No- the line went, “Let me tell you. If you really want to understand a person, don’t use your ears. Use your eyes.” … But I don’t think that’s accurate either. You should use your heart. Because what you see might not be the truth.

LYN: My shoulders are a little sore. I’m just exercising my back so I can relax the muscles. bgm: 万物盛开法则 (The Law of All Things in Bloom) - Zhang Dawei

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C: When will you release your album? LYN: I don’t want to discuss this topic. /sigh/ An album is really hard to make. It’s really not easy… Let’s not rush it! You ask me, “When will you release your album?” and I shall reply, “Let’s not rush it.” - [t/n: In Chinese, it rhymes: 专辑 (album - zhuānjí) & 着急 (worry/feel anxious - zháojí)]

C: You still won’t release it yet? LYN: I haven’t completed it yet. Honestly, a bunch of songs were done 2-3 years ago but I never released it because I don’t have enough. I want to release the album when I’ve collected 10 songs. I haven’t collected enough. When I listen to songs now, I kind of want to puke. I’m talking about the demos. There are just too many, and I can’t pick out which ones I like. It’s nothing to do with my style, it’s just that I’ve heard too many and now I’m numb. (recites lyrics to Jay Chou’s 世界末日 (End of the World))

C: If you don’t release one, it’ll be expired. LYN: You’re not wrong. /sigh/ I really want to let you hear some of it. Because once you do you’ll know that these songs are timeless. What I mean is that they are not bound to this era, so they won’t “expire.” C: Let’s hear some. LYN: There’s no way I would let you hear it. If I were to release it tomorrow or the day after, I would let you hear the starting rhythm or something. But you want me to play my album during my stream?! Then, who would buy it?

LYN: There’s someone in the chat who is constantly spamming what number topic I’m trending at. If you continue, and I find out you’re tricking me, I’m going to kick you out. The logic is that I can do without trending, I can just muddle my way through. But you can’t trick me. Okay? Don’t trick me. I don’t need to be popular, but I need you not to trick me.

C: Ning-ge, release a few more copies of your album, otherwise I’m afraid I won’t be able to get one. LYN: I don’t have any plans to make a physical one right now. My plan is to make a vinyl later, though like I did for my previous album. Just listening though, there’s no way you’ll need to pay- it’s going to be free. I made a promise to you before, that you would always get to listen to my music for free. My album will be free, so all you have to do is listen to it. If I do end up releasing a vinyl later, you can go buy that. But honestly, I’m not counting on it to make a profit. I don’t need it to. I haven’t reached that point. Otherwise- nevermind. I’m just not relying on these things to make money, is all. C: Can you not release a limited number of vinyls? LYN: We’ll see. It’s- if it’s not a limited number, then we have to predict how many to make in the first place. It’s actually not that much different from having a limit.

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C: Lao-da, why won’t you talk to us at the airport? LYN: I did, didn’t I? “Move to the side.” (x3) /laughs/ Didn’t I tell you to move to the sides? I’m kidding! I was saying, “Don’t squeeze. Okay, I know. Don’t squeeze!!” I did talk to you! Wasn’t I very sincere? I was saying it from the heart: “Please, don’t squeeze.” How many other artists can talk to you sincerely like that, using their heart to tell you the truth? How many can do that? I can. I said, “Don’t squeeze anymore. D:” It was truly words from the heart. No airs- just a shout from my soul. “Stop squeezing!”

LYN: Because right now I’m spending most of my time in the drama crew. If I wrap up the day at 12a, and I have to go attend some even the next day, I still have to wake up early. I have to get into hair and makeup early, and shoot a day of scenes. It’s a lot different from how you would go about a company job. I shouldn’t say that. That’s just how /I/ work. If I am shooting some scenes tomorrow, then I have to do some homework the night before. I’ll go early to get my hair and makeup done, then start filming. You need to be focused on the drama during this part. After that, I turn in to wash up and then head for the airport. Why do I always use the VIP route when I fly places? It’s not because I have money or that I’m trying to show off. It’s that I really want to use that time to take a nap. Because as soon as I’m off the plane I need to go to rehearsals. I’ll wake up and start makeup at 12p the next day- very early. Because we need to snap the promo photos that you see my studio post. I’ll wake up two hours earlier to get get made up and shoot those photos so that they’re ready before the event. Later in the evening, it’s time for me to perform. Most of the time as soon as I’m done, I catch a flight back to Hengdian and it’ll land around 2-3 in the morning. I’ll be working again the next day.

LYN: I’m not saying this to tell you that I’m tired. I’m not afraid of being tired. I AM afraid of not being in the best condition I could be, and going to shoot my drama. This face of mine has to face the camera, and it was ugly enough to begin with. I’m already just average-looking. If I wake up the next day looking haggard and messing up my lines, then that would agonize me. (He doesn’t want to delay the filming because of his personal reasons.) LYN: That’s why I want to get a good rest on the road. I’ll sleep on the car, get to the airport drowsy, take a nap on the plane, then get off my flight and be ready to go to rehearsal. I’m giving myself a period of rest.

----- Break #1 LYN: I’m back. They (the neighbors) weren’t fighting. They were watching TXJ. - /thanking all the fans who make content for him: video edits, fanart, etc./ LYN: There are people who draw for me- I won’t comment on whether they draw well or not- it’s all good to me, because I can’t draw. But there are some people who are constantly making content. For example, right now. I’m streaming now but by the time I’ve finished they will have posted a drawing of me already. It doesn’t matter if it’s cartoon, sketch, manhua, or whatever style. Most of the time when I’m streaming, by the time I’m done that art is already posted. It’s nice. I just think that every drawing is- - /sets up his bgm > 내 마음 들리나요 (Can you Hear My Heart)/ LYN: - is full of love. Every video is full of interest ans respect. So right now I’d like to thank every good friend who creates content for me. You’ve worked hard. LYN: What is this? When someone is willing to put in so much effort for you- what is that called? I think this feeling can only be described in two words: team spirit.

C: Are you logging off now? LYN: You wish. On a night when I appear like this, how could I so easily let you go to sleep? Stay up!

C: Xiao Ning, being loved by so many people, you must move forward carrying a heavy burden. LYN: I suddenly realize that I have a long way to go in my future. I’m carrying so many people’s hopes… and disappointments. So I do not feel like I am alone. Right now, it’s possible that I am carrying many of my fans, or those of you who are watching whose wish was to become a celebrity’s dreams. Right now I represent all the hopes for the future you had when you were young. And I will continue to carry that heavy burden and move forward. C: I’m on the heavier side. LYN: And you still have the nerve to say so? That’s why it’s called “负重前行” (fu zhong qian xing), because I have to “扶” (fu = support) you in walking forward. C: Ning-ge, I am a 100+ kg soul. LYN: Your soul alone is 100+ kg? And what about your physical body? It’s okay. A girl like you is... stable.

C: When did you start? LYN: The stream? Around 9p. It’s been about an hour and a half now, let me look at my timer. I’ve been streaming for 1h, 43m. What’s wrong- you missed it, didn’t you? :) That’s why. If you haven’t yet subscribed to my weibo, please do so. I don’t always announce when I’m going to stream. Sometimes I do it when I wrap up work early. After today though… it’s probably going to be a while before I stream next. Because as of now I still owe: 5 OSTs and the supplemental voiceover for Cicada Girls. If I finish work early in the next weeks, that will be the work I have to make up for.

LYN: I forgot something earlier- That’s right. You are now listening to the drama Follow Your Heart (YXJ) OST opening theme song, called 心悠悠 (Longing Heart). Oh- excuse me- I misspoke! It’s not the opening theme- it’s the interlude! Sorry. Let me say that again. - /repeats himself, but correctly/ -- 心悠悠 (Longing Heart) - Follow Your Heart OST - /singing along, but not syncing up/ LYN: Friends, it’s like this- it’s not that I am unfamiliar with the song, but that in the recent year, this is the most mysterious OST I’ve sung. The three chorus verses are all different. I can’t remember which melody comes first. If there are detailed friends tuning in, you can focus on that- the three choruses are all different. So I’m a little confused. Let me re-familiarize myself.

C: Stop swaying. I’m dizzy. C: You’re singing this song with a strong sense of thievery. (KSTLB2 reference, bc he was rubbing his hands together) LYN: Friends- let me explain the “dizzy” thing later. First, if you don’t have any drama to watch lately you can check this one out. It’s called Follow Your Heart and there are some friends of mine in it. Including LYX-laoshi, who I’ve worked with (sung OSTs for his dramas) a few times already. The drama is pretty interesting; I’ve watched a bit. Wang Chengsi (ZY, SJYM) has also cameo-d in a couple episodes. I thought it was quite a good watch. So if you have some time you can go watch this new drama, okay? Please support it. LYN: Now let me tell you why you might have been a bit dizzy earlier. Some people just have that disposition- like carsickness. Some girls might have a weaker disposition, and when they’re on the subway or if they see something that is shaking too much they can get a sense of vertigo. But let me teach you what to do when I’m singing. - C: Once I get carsick, I’m vomiting enough to fill the car. LYN: … How much you vomit doesn’t have to do with being dizzy, but with how much you’ve eaten. If you don’t eat for a day, I’m sure you won’t have enough vomit to fill the car. It’d just be a puddle, probably. You must have eaten too much and thrown up as a result. That’s not to do with carsickness. Just eat less and you won’t vomit enough to fill the car. Maybe just half the car. Also, I don’t think you’re throwing up at just the slightest jiggle or sway of the car, right? Just eat a little less. LYN: Are you that friend from earlier who had a soul that was 100+ kg? - LYN: Anyway, what I wanted to say was- I’ll sing another song in a bit to let you test it- but sway along! If you don’t trust me, then try. Hold your phone and sway as you watch. You won’t be dizzy. If you don’t trust me then just try it. You have to follow my rhythm and sway with me. Then you won’t feel sick. Okay? And now I will sing. Let me see which song will make you move.

- /vocal fry/ LYN: Suddenly, a vocal fry register. (气泡音 - qìpào yīn) * [Vocal fry is the lowest register (tone) of your voice characterized by its deep, creaky, breathy sound] LYN: What do you mean~ I should sing a song now~ How about~~~ LYN: /laughs/ I saw a comment once that read, “What’s so good about LYN’s streams? One time I happened to click in and found he was speaking with the vocal fry register. How greasy!” LYN: Don’t you think… How could this be greasy? Don’t you think- it sounds very nice?

LYN: Someone wants to hear “一个人的北京.” I won’t be singing that. What should I sing… how about… I haven’t actually found one. C: 传承 (Inheritance) LYN: I’m really just afraid of cracking, because I know I’m not in the best condition. I don’t want it to influence any future work. I still have five OSTs I haven’t recorded yet. What if a producer or director is watching my stream and they watch me crack while singing a song and then think, “We don’t need LYN anymore.” “We don’t want you to sing this song anymore. If there’s a chance to work together next time, we’ll talk.” It might influence my future development and income.

LYN: There’s a song called… what’s “等风来”? Oh, the song is called “天空之外” (Beyond the Sky), right? I heard this song recently, and I quite liked it. // Is there an arrangement for the male key? No? -- 天空之外 (Beyond the Sky) - Gank Your Heart OST LYN: Songs are so hard to find! Why is it so complicated. Hold on, let me check my “arrangement warehouse.”

LYN: Oh, this I haven’t sung in a long time! -- 乞丐 (Beggar) LYN: Hold on- it’s been a long time since I last sang this and I’ve forgotten how. Sorry. I always sing this at my concert, though. C: It lagged. LYN: It didn’t lag, the mic broke. There was a small problem with it. It’s okay. // It’s not broken. // Oh, you lagged? What a coincidence. The microphone forgot the lyrics, lol.

LYN: Oh, 熬夜 (Stay Up All Night)... I will sing this song for everyone tuning in, and you who are currently staying up tonight. - /missed the timing to start singing/ LYN: What do you think? You, who are currently staying up at night- this song 熬夜 is for you. Let’s stay up together. I don’t know how the sound equipment is working tonight, but let’s just sing. If you start to feel dizzy, remember to sway with me. -- 熬夜 (Stay Up All Night) LYN: That’s about enough. I don’t have any strength left. Thank you. LYN: I’ll open another bottle of water. It feels a bit hoarse. Excuse me, sorry.

-----

bgm: 莫问前程 (Don’t Ask About the Future) - White Cat Legend OST LYN: I won’t sing anymore, let’s just chat. I don’t have enough strength left.

C: Ning-ge, why hasn’t Daimi been to work for four days? LYN: She’s been in Hangzhou for a few days. We’re had her get a check-up, because she hasn’t been feeling well lately. But we found out it was nothing big, so she came back. Today she was at work on time.

C: Is she pregnant? LYN: No!

LYN: /to Daimi/ Daimi! Come here. Your fans want to see you. LYN: ?! You stepped on my headphones, hey! [t/n: OMG, I almost thought he said something… different. >.>] LYN: Hold on. Let me find some appropriate bgm for you. Alright? Wait a bit. bgm: Neon Sweetheart LYN: Okay. Say hello to all the brothers, sisters, uncles and aunties out there. They’ve been thinking of you the whole time.

C: Daimi plays with beads, too? LYN: No, I put it on her so she can play it for me. Because her oils and fur are suited for polishing them. Also, as an artist you have to have something special, right? You’ve seen dogs sit and dance, but have you ever seen a dog polishing beads? You haven’t right? So if we want to make some space for ourselves in this vast world, you have to be unique. I’m sure no one’s ever seen a dog polishing beads. So I’ve given her this image.

LYN: Look- she’s gotten so chubby. I’m just having her stand on my leg for a big, but she already can’t keep herself up. She’s panting. Listen- She’s so fat she can’t even sit!

LYN: I’m going to recite the spell now. Friends, you can observe how her modd changes. How- about- a sausage? C: There’s no reaction. LYN: No- can’t you see that she keeps licking her lips?? She’s already imagining what it will be like when she eats it. Let’s go. Hold on a sec while I get her one.

C: Ning-ge, I want to watch you feed her. LYN: My dog can’t do much else, but if you give her a whole sausage she can peel it herself. I don’t need to serve her. C: Show us. LYN: What, you even want a performance? Hold on, friends. - /shows off all the peels/ LYN: She ate all of those.

C: Ning-ge, are you sure you didn’t eat them? LYN: I… wouldn’t. Because this is a sausage for pets.

C: She didn’t peel it today? LYN: No- she’s over in her house. When she’s done eating it she’ll leave the peel there. That was probably two or three day’s worth. She eats 5-6 sticks in a day. LYN: Every morning she goes to the makeup room- she’s in a rush every morning. As soon as I wake up and start washing my face, she’s already waiting by the door. I’m washing my face, and she’s already waiting to go. She plans on just running out and onto the elevator as soon as I open the door. When we’re at the makeup room, the first thing my makeup artist does is give her a sausage. She won’t eat this first one, but hide it instead; because I have my own room. Then she’ll go to the bigger makeup room and do her rounds. She’ll come back with an egg and some bread. Then come back and eat them all together. That’s her breakfast. LYN: Most of the time she won’t eat that first sausage yet, and go fishing for bread. Sometimes there’s an egg, and she’ll eat that on the spot. If there’s no egg, she’ll bring some bread back. Then she’ll eat them together.

-----

- /smacks a mosquito and shows it off/

C: Ning-ge, the Shanghai subgroup of fans is meeting, will you come? LYN: I won’t be attending, thanks. You eat and play amongst yourselves. I know a lot of locations are gathering for a group dinner. It’s quite fun and happy to be together. I won’t be going because I don’t want to have to pay for the meal. If I had the money, I could just buy something to eat at home. But you all have fun. I won’t be going. LYN: Jilin is also gathering, is that right? Dalian as well? Nice, have fun together.

C: Ning-ge, if you come you’ll eat for free. LYN: For example, there’s a place where my fans are gathering and they’ve bought out a restaurant to hang out. If you invite me and I go, then that means I don’t have to pay for my share, is that it? Erm… I’m not someone who’s greedy to take advantage of such situations. The reason I’m not going is really because I don’t want to take advantage, not because I don’t want to go. I really do want to go, but I don’t want to take advantage. So I won’t be going.

C: Then come to foot the bill. LYN: I could. That’s no problem. You all know that Ning-ge is not stingy when it comes to these things. I treat my fans well. But I won’t be going. I don’t even want to go when it’s a free meal, let alone go when I have to pay the bill. What do you think I am? Many friends call me “Ning-bao” don’t they? Now you want me to go make payments- do you think I’m Alipay (zhifubao)?

C Ning-ge, where’s your team spirit?? LYN: /laughs/ I could chat about “team spirit” with you on a normal basis but once it comes to fan-gatherings this “team spirit” disappears. Is that what you mean to say?? Are you provoking me? You’re calling me out?! LYN: This trick is called “moral kidnapping”. It’s okay- when it’s about treating fans to meals I’ve already given up on my morals.

C: You sure are stingy. LYN: This isn’t being stingy. This has nothing to do with money. It’s my life on the line. LOL, no. Let’s make an example: I go to any random fan-gathering, let’s say Beijing. They say, “Ning-ge, we’re having a fan-gathering!” and I go, “You’re meeting up? Okay- the bill’s on me. Ning-ge will treat you.” At this time, Shenyang’s group is calling it quits. “What’s the meaning of this, Ning-ge? Fans in Beijing are fans, but us in Shenyang aren’t?” So I say, “Okay. Liu-gongzi will pay the tab in Shenyang.“ After that, the Dandong fans are calling it quits. If it continues on like that, it would be fairer for everyone if I don’t pay for anyone. You all can pick up your own tabs.

LYN: Sometimes it’s hard to be fair, but I’m trying hard to keep it even. One time I wanted to do something fun for my stream- I was thinking I could connect with fans. Because I needed content, but also because I thought I had the ability to communicate. Even if the person I connected with happened to be an antifan. If I randomly pick a user today to connect with, and they end up being an antifan. If they come in cursing, then I would kick them out immediately. But if they came in wanting to debate, I have the confidence I would be able the go for half an hour (or longer) and ultimately turn them into my fan. I’m confident I can do that. LYN: The problem is that I’ve thought about connecting with fans, but then you all complain and tell me not to. Why? Because I’m connecting with someone that’s not you. Now they’re unhappy. For example, I’ll connect with Fan A, and now Fan B is upset. “Lao-da, I’m telling you. I bought four cases of yogurt because of you. What? Is that not enough to be a fan?” Fan C didn’t get to connect either, so they say, “Yeah, Lao-da. I bought a Pomellato necklace. What is this, favoritism? Okay. I won’t be buying any more.” There’s this sense of rebellion, so I want to be fair: I won’t connect with anyone. If there comes a day when this sense of revolt can lessen, then I would select a few lucky guests and chat with them during my streams. LYN: We can chat about anything like if you need life advice, or if you have any opinions/suggestions that I should take, or your thoughts. We really can talk about it. It could be fun!

LYN: I think even with streaming or- if you are an artist- not yet a celebrity, but at least someone in this industry: singer, actor, it doesn’t matter- I always think that you should always love what you do. I even remade my streaming room- the next time I stream, if it’s all set up, you’ll see how serious I am about streaming. There’ll be new room. But I want to make the content fun as well. So I think of connecting because interaction is the charm of livestreaming. I think I can do it. C: I want to interact. LYN: See? There’s someone who’s posted that they want to interact. At this time, they are very excited to be chosen to interact with. But if I don’t choose them, do you think that they would be extremely disappointed? Would they be sad? Because of this, would they stop being my fan and start destroying me instead? In the entertainment circle there’s a methodology: it doesn’t matter which artist, if they start doing well the fans wil stop being fans and start tearing you down instead. Let me tell you, there is not one artist in this circle who isn’t afraid of this happening to them. It doesn’t matter how big of a celebrity you are, or whether you’re an actor or singer. Everyone is afraid of this technique.

LYN: Let’s not talk about anyone else but use myself as an example. When I am shooting a drama, there are people taking sneaky pictures of me and selling them online. Let’s say they’re sold at 10rmb per photo, and someone spends 100rmb to buy ten photos. Let’s say it’s 2024.06.28- and they like LYN. When they’re looking at the photos it’s under the filter of beng a fan. They can PS or use some filter to make the photos look nice and pretty. White and shining. Young and handsome. They post those edited photos online or onto some short video platform. Okay. LYN: Let’s say on 06.29- or- today, I am looking for five fans to connect with on my stream, and I do not end up choosing the girl who bought ten photos of me. She gets angry. “I want to connect with LYN, because I have so much I want to say to him!” Of the five fans I choose, I don’t choose her. Tomorrow, on 06.29, there will be 10 raw (unedited) photos released. Maybe super unedited. She’ll put the edited and unedited photos next to each other and post, “This is the LYN you all know.” It’s not worth it. C: The unedited photos also look good! LYN: That’s why I’m saying, you have the fan-goggles on. Let me tell you something- in this industry there is not one artist who doesn’t have ugly photos. Name one. Let’s say you have a name in your head, and you’re thinking, “This person is so good-looking!” then you search this person’s name with “___ ugly photo” at the end. See what the results are. You don’t need to type people’s names into my chat! Just think of a name and search it yourself. There’s not one person who doesn’t have them. That’s why when fans tell me that they think I’m handsome I want to reply that it’s because of the fan-goggles. I’m not handsome. I’m afraid, too. So let’s not connect next time.

LYN: I hope, though, that those of you who are watching my stream right now- most of you, about 80% are my fans. 80% of you are my fans, so starting today could we swear a sacred oath (歃血为盟 - smear the lips with blood when taking an oath)? If one day you stop being my fan, could you not destroy me on your way out? Can you promise me that? Let’s sign an agreement today June 28, 2024, that one day if you stop being my fan you won’t step on me on the way out. Can you do that? You can leave, but not at my expense. Can you? LYN: I have blood on my hand- it’s mosquito blood. The scared oath. I’ve got the blood. LYN: That’s the first thing, not to step on me on your way out. The second is, many of you probably go online to buy leaked photos. If one day you stop being my fan, could you format your storage disk? Format your storage disk for me. Can you do it? Promise me. Thank you. You can do it. LYN: It’s a gentleman’s agreement.

C: Ning-ge, where can I buy leaked news and photos? LYN: The fact that you’re even asking me this question now means that you should never go to buy them. I see you typing those words from through the monitor and can see your innocent eyes! If you go outside, you’re likely to get scammed by others!! Don’t go online trying to buy these things and end up getting scammed! I can tell how innocent you are from the fact that you’ve typed that questions. Your eyes still shine with light and you can see the word “INNOCENT” in them. Don’t even think about it. If you’re scrolling your phone and come across what others have bought and posted, you can look. But don’t even think about purchasing them for yourself. You don’t need to spend your own money for it. There’s no need.

C: Ning-ge, if I had bad photos of you I wouldn’t erase them. I’ll sell them to you. LYN: That’s a little bit illegal. Are you a criminal? Are you blackmailing me?? “Ning-ge, I have a BUNCH of ugly photos of you. Send me 200rmb immediately or I’ll post them all online.”

C: Ning-ge, will you still stream in ten years? LYN: I don’t think I would still be acting in ten years, but I’m sure that in ten years I will still be streaming. Whether as an actor or a singer, there will always come the possibility that you will be struck out or replaced over time. But streaming is something that I personally want to do. It is not influenced by outside factors. As long as you give me a platform, as long as Weibo allows me to stream, I will keep streaming. That’s all there is to it. I only need a platform and I will stream willingly. But for acting, it’s other people who find me to act- it’s passive.

C: Do a few magazine shoots. LYN: Magazines… I don’t have the time to do them. I also think… I’m too ugly and I’m not worthy to be in magazines. [t/n: He’s also said before that he doesn’t want people to pay for something like a MAGAZINE, just because he’s in it. He wants people to spend money on things that can be of use.]

C: Do you want to be Weibo Livestream King for 10 consecutive years?? LYN: Livestream King is a great honor to me. I’ll try hard to make it happen. I’ll do my best. C: Start a live-streaming industry. LYN: No, I should just do my own stream well. I can’t be involved in any sort of industry.

C: Ning-ge, in ten years become a streaming-type yxh. LYN: …? For what?? I already said that when I was 60- was it 60 or 70? I forgot.- that I would share everything I’ve encountered in this entertainment industry with you. LYN: Was it 60? Then when I’m 60.

C: Lao-da, could I take your raw photos and trade them for an autographed one? LYN: … LYN: “Ning-ge, in this card I have 10 unedited photos of you. Could I trade them for a personalized autographed photo? Okay? I hope that you can write: “___ is the most beautiful.”” LYN: The way they’ve done this has avoided punishment under law. Because it’s true that they’re not doing it for profit or anything, not that I understand it very much. That is- I don’t think it’s worth suing you over… But this underhanded tactic does make me a little uncomfortable. LYN: But let me tell you- everyone’s words can create an image of your face. Through the words you’ve typed, I can imagine your face and the tone of your voice. For example, for the person earlier I’ve already described their face: two big round eyes, full of clarity. “Ning-ge, where can I buy leaked news and photos?” They were like that- I’m sure they’re as I imitated just now. Now this person, I’m sure, looks like this: “Xiao Ning-ah.. If I were to have your unedited photos and I wanted to exchange them for a personalized autograph… Can I?” They must be like that! Cunning and wicked. Friends, I’m sure they’re like that. How terrifying! LYN: The friend who asked this question, you can go look in the mirror. Tell me I didn’t look just like you.

C: Ning-ge, you’re on my glasses case and my teacher saw it. Should I cower? LYN: Through this comment, this friend has already got me figuring out what they look like and how they speak. /repeats the question/ You must look like this- /puts on a pair of round frames and makes himself a little… nerdy looking and innocent, I guess/. Go look in the mirror, do you look like this? It’s… innocent, but sincere. Sincere, but also a little cute and naive. That’s you. Go look in the mirror.

C: Ning-ge, why don’t you go on Call Me by Fire? LYN: /laughs/ CMBF is… is that the sisters or the brothers? The brothers, right? The thing is, a while ago Yizhe was (going to be) on it. I think he was on it. That’s what I heard- or rather, he had sent me a message. If I call him Yizhe, you might not know- it’s Qian Zhao (YNGS). If I am NYZ, he is QZ. You get it if I put it that way, right? So, QZ went to attend CMBF, I think. He wanted me to record a short video for him, to cheer him on. I asked him, “What am I supposed to say?” and he said, “Just cheer me on. We’re friends, right? So you can say, “I heard WYZ is going to be on this show, and I hope he gets a good ranking.” It’s just like supporting you for the gaokao. LYN: But I was thinking- If I’m going to record a message for him, I want to be different from the others. I need to record something like, “Hello, everyone. I am Liu Yuning. In CMBF, I hope my good friend Yizhe can show off his charms, get a good ranking, and debut in the final group!” That’s standard, right? But I wanted to be different. I wanted to record something that would make people remember WYZ and remember LYN. Maybe even hate me. Because I also have a good friend called Fang Yilun- that is, Yu Shisan (YNGS). I’m saying it this way so you can better put a face to the name. YSS. He was on CMBF last year (actually, 2022), but he only went for one round. (一轮 - yī lún). So… his name was not very auspicious. Fang Yilun, who was only on the show for one round (yī lún). I was thinking of recording one for WYZ, “Hello, everyone. I am Liu Yuning. I’m YZ’s friend and heard he would be attending CMBF. We have a good friend in common, FYL, but he came back after the first round. Therefore, since your name is Wang Yizhe, you- might only be there for one part.” But I was thinking about it and came to the conclusion that wasn’t quite appropriate. One’s Yilun and the other’s Yizhe… that’s not good! So later I thought this joke wouldn’t fly. My friends would have a falling out! So then I just recorded a standard one for him. LYN: I just shouldn’t have thought in that direction in the first place. I don’t know how the competition is going, and I don’t dare to ask him. Of course, I don’t mean to belittle him! When I was on Singer 2019, I came back after one round too, didn’t I. That’s why I’m called… Liu Yining (一宁). I went and very obediently, very serenely (宁静) came back. I went, kept introducing myself- “I am Liu Yining” and came back. Only one round. It’s the same. We’re all the same. Our names just aren’t auspicious. We aren’t suited for competitions.

LYN: Alright friends, it’s about time. I hope you had a relaxing, happy, and wonderful night. It was great to have you and I hope you enjoyed yourself. Let’s meet again in the next stream! If you haven’t yet subscribed to my weibo, please do so. I am Modern Brothers Liu Yuning. I hope we can meet again in the next stream. LYN: I’ll go wash up quickly and review my scenes for tomorrow. Goodnight, everyone!

#Liu Yuning #lyn livestream #(2:44:24)

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