#walking that back and tying personality to sect is just not very interesting

[llycaons]

with respect to this person’s hc, I think lan jingyi being 100% lan makes him such a better and more interesting character, and actually makes him worth paying attention to as a character for what his behavior reveals about the current lan sect

[inessencedevided]

Wei Wuxian enters the Underworld Chamber with several scrolls clutched in his arms, struggling to keep them all together but he is able to settle them down on a table next to the one that is holding his client with a great clatter. For a moment he entertains himself with thinking what the Second Jade who was known to be very rule abiding would say to his general … everything. He would probably have those straight, black eyebrows furrowed and reprimand him with a single word.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here, hm?”, he offers and sifts through his collection of scrolls from the library of the Lan sect. “Your older brother gave me access to some very interesting scrolls, you know?! Your sect is famous for musical cultivation, he told me that you were on your way to become the best guqin player, close to Lan Yi. Fascinating stuff, this. Inquiry. Talking to the dead through the means of music. Maybe this will help me before I use Empathy. Which is a method I invented.”

He does this a lot, chattering away at people to break the ice. There is not a lot of ice to break because the person he is talking to is dead but it still feels nicer than to be completely quiet. And according to ZewuJun, his brother is still here, so maybe he will feel less alone like this. So he shuffles over to the guqin that seems to have been repaired. There is still some brownish-red residue on the wood and he knows that it only can be one thing. Blood. “Alright. Let’s do this,” he says softly. Carefully, he follows the movements that are described on the page, lets the notes ring out, waits for an answer in the dark.

There is silence for a moment and he is afraid he played so badly that the ghost is somehow offended and doesn’t want to come. But then, suddenly, there is an answer. No unnecessary embellishments, played slowly so he can understand but still so beautiful that he knows who it is. Who it only can be.

Who are you sings the instrument and he makes an excited sound, shuffling even closer. Wei Wuxian he answers, carefully playing out the notes. Your brother. Asked for help. he answers haltingly. It is almost like learning a new language. I go through memories. Am I allowed? There is another moment of silence, then he swears the answer sounds almost surprised. Yes. You may, Wei Wuxian. He giggles and bites his lip. “Call me Wei Ying,” he tells the room before remembering that he should have used the guqin. The instruments sings out, completely unprompted. Wei Ying.

His grin threatens to split his face and he gets up, walking towards the body, taking in the serene face, the inky hair, the creamy skin. He really is a beauty. “Just a moment,” he tells him and pats his hand, walking to the door and calling Lan Xichen in, who comes without any further prompting. “He gave me permission,” Wei Wuxian explains and then hands the sect leader a Clarity Bell, a thank you from Jiang Yanli for helping her sect when it called for it. “Ring this when things get sticky or I do not wake up. It will call me back.”

ZewuJun nods, taking the Bell, settling in, watching them both with a worried expression but Wei Wuxian just smiles and kneels next to the body, taking his hands, noticing how cold and yet soft they are, callouses at their fingertips from playing the guqin. “Lan Wangji,” he whispers. “Show me. Show me what is keeping you here.”

The memories feel like the first snow beneath naked feet, dropping into a body of cold water but also like standing on a mountain and letting the winds rush by. They start with a little boy kneeling in front of a house surrounded by gentians, clad in the same white the whole sect wears. He is six at most and why this memory is shown, Wei Wuxian doesn’t know but he keeps concentrating, diving deeper. He sees a strikingly handsome teenager studying in the library, copying old scrolls, playing quin and sneaking vegetables to the back hills where white bunnies roam. The images flash by, a lecture with disciples from other sects, Wen Chao and his entourage arriving and making a scene.

One moment stands out. The same teenager who must be Lan Wangji catches a young female disciple roaming the back hills, a Wen from the red of her robes. He walks away with her and the scenery shifts. They are in a building that is most likely the home of the sect leader, ZewuJun and his brother who stands next to him, straight-backed and breathtaking. He can hear voices, hears them talking of something Wen Ruohan wants, that he will raze the Cloud Recesses to the ground for it. The Yin Iron. Part of it is hidden away here. They will need to prepare for the worst.

The scene shifts again, to Caiyi and Lan Wangji walking through the busy market, holding his sword in his hand, one hand in a fist behind his back like a proper gentleman. He can hear crying and both of them look for the source of it, Wei Wuxian constricted by the limited sight he has. It is little girl with braided buns, crying heartbreakingly next to a stall with animals made from colourful cloth.

The cultivator with the severe face and the countenance of a remote, snow-capped mountain, kneels next to her and hands her a bunny rabbit made from colourful cloth, just purchased apparently, waiting for her to talk. “I lost my gege,” she sobs and shuffles closer, hugging him, getting his white robes dirty. He does not seem to care, instead looks at her and gently lays a hand on her shoulder. “I have a gege as well. I would be scared if I lost him in the crowd,” he says and oh, his voice. It’s calm and deep, trying to settle the little girl. “Shall we look for him together?”

She sniffles and nods, taking his hand in hers, looking up at him in awe and Wei Wuxian can relate. After just a moment, they have found her big brother and the little girl runs to hug him with a shriek of delight. He can see the corners of Lan Wangji’s mouth tilt up into a soft smile, barely noticeable but it is there. He seems to be content with a job well done.

Another shift. They seem to come quicker now, more talk of the Yin Iron, someone he recognises as Lan Qiren taking stock of their most valuable scriptures, letting it be taken away. It is terribly busy but Lan Wangji is a mountain in a rushing stream, carrying what he can with his impressive arm strength.

Yet another and the Cloud Recesses are burning. The disciples are running, many of them armed, some carrying instruments. Caiyi is in disarray as well, people barricading their homes, locking up their animals. Lan Wangji is making a sweep through town, his immaculate robes already stained with soot. The little girl from before runs towards him and hugs his leg, tearful and scared but she knows she is safe with the young cultivator. He gently pats her head and does the same to her rabbit doll.

Then, his face grows serious and he kneels down to look at her, reaching up and undoing his ribbon that falls into his hands, carefully tying it around her wrist. “Keep this safe. Go and take your brother, your parents and look for a grey mountain with yellow veins. This will give you free passage through the secret entrance. You will be safe,” he tells her gently and gets up. “Look for a man who looks like me but older. Lan Xichen.”

Another shift. This one seems to be the last. Lan Wangji is riddled with arrows, bleeding profusely, staggering but still standing upright. His forehead is bare, his hands around the hilt of his sword are bloodied but he carries himself with grace and sheer bullheaded stubbornness. What was that saying again? No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it. He is so very brave. Wei Wuxian can feel his need to protect the ones who are hidden in the cave behind him even at the cost of his own life.

He seems to have set his mind on something, following Wen Xu, even as another arrow buries itself in his back and a voice cries out “A-Zhan! No!”. A sharp crack, bones crunching. His leg is broken but Wen Xu is dead, staring into nothingness. Lan Wangji does not cry out, instead uses his sword to get up again, breathing hard, spitting blood but still, there is a defiant light in his eyes. Someone trips him up and he falls to his knees, his head held high, his guqin on the ground next to him, strings bloodied. As the sword finds its mark, Wei Wuxian does not look away. Dares not look away. Lan Wangji stays proud and brave until he crumples to the ground and stops breathing.

Ringing, silvery and gentle, pulls him out of the cold waters, guides him back into his own body. As he comes to with a gasp, he notices that he has been crying. He wipes his eyes and looks at the body in front of him, at this brave and stubborn man who died defending those he cared about. “You were so good. So good, Lan Zhan,” he whispers, the personal name slipping out as he squeezes the cold hands, looks into his serene face. “The best.”

He turns to Lan Xichen who looks like he has been crying as well. “He died with the deep wish to protect still ingrained into him. He wants to make sure you are alright. And… he is guarding something. I… you spoke of the Yin Iron.”

The way Lan Xichen pales is answer enough.

- 🍄 anon

(Part one for all who didn't read it)

Omg!!! You sent me through every feeling IMAGINABLE 🍄 anon 😭😭😭

That line about there being a lot of ice to crack made me laugh and then you just came at me like that with feelings about lwj dieing! Not. Fair. 🥺

And lwj + little kids = love :D

[mianmiansimp]

mdzs au: the one with wen xu (pt 1)

>>wwx has his bisexual epiphany much sooner in life bc Reasons

>>so when he starts crushing on lwj Immediately at cr, he knows it too

>>anyway: sometime pre-cloud recesses, wx and wwx cross paths and wwx is being his usual mischievous self

>>he's very dramatic and flirty and running around on roofs

>>wx is like Hey You're Cute but doesn't catch his name

>>wwx is oblivious so he didn't know who wx was lol

>>they cross paths a few more times

>>wwx just knows wx as 'that one gongzi i see sometimes'

>>then cr happens and they meet again when wwx is heading back to cr with his alcohol

>>wx is like my how charming

>>the next morning the wens show up and wc pisses everyone off

>>and then wwx is telling him off and wc gets pissed and tries to fight wwx while also insulting his status

>>and jc is like EXCUSE YOU and draws his sword bc i'm a sucker for protective jc and will throw in as much yunmeng shuangjie as i want

>>but then wx shows up and tells off wc (bc of wwx) and tells everyone to calm down

>>wx learns wwx's name, wwx learns who 'that one gongzi i see sometimes' is, only one of them is happy with the revelation

>>wx is being weird and oily to everyone and the lans begrudgingly accept the 'apology'

>>wx is publicly weird to wwx, wwx is publicly uncomfy, jc is publicly offended and pissed and defensive and also has an inkling of where wx's head is at

>>cue jc aggressively glaring at wens and shielding wwx from them

>>nhs, who's more aware of what's happening than anyone else bc nhs, helps

>>doesn't stop wwx from adopting wn as a bestie but wn is a kitten so it's ok

>>cr arc is largely the same, wangxian shenanigans, yunmeng shuangjie shenanigans, alcohol shenanigans, you know the drill

>>except for two major things

>>one - wwx has been crushing on lwj since day one but he Knows it

>>and he gets sad sometimes when lwj rejects him

>>so jc is not only angry at the wens but he's angry at lwj's audacity too

>>lwj, who hasn't a clue about anything:

>>two - wx sometimes shows up randomly to 'check up'

>>he isn't, he just drops by to make wwx uncomfy via unsolicited gifts and flirting

>>jc usually passive aggressively intervenes

>>or nhs makes some excuse that is usually 'jc wants to see you'

>>there's an incident during a wx visit where wwx panics bc he really doesn't want to deal with him

>>and essentially bolts from the vicinity and runs right into lwj

>>lwj almost starts telling off wwx but he sees quite clearly that wwx is Not Ok

>>and then they hear wx approaching and wwx basically begs lwj to Get Him Out

>>lwj dislikes wx far more than he dislikes acknowledging his affections for wwx

>>so they quickly run into and hide in a room

>>cue bonding moment where lwj and wwx have a Talk and lwj says they're friends for the first time

>>and then immediately goes silent bc wwx is looking at him with complete adoration and he has to force himself not to kiss him lol

>>this is also the point where lwj has it confirmed that wwx very much does not like wx's presence

>>which is how lwj joins the defend wwx against wx's advances club

>>jc isn't happy about it bc wwx is mooning for lwj still but he lets it slide

>>wn actually joined the club accidentally and discretely

>>jc's like why couldn't wwx get This wen to crush on him i like him so much better???

>>lwj vinegar moment + flustered wn who just thinks wwx is really cool and nice

>>wq catches wind of what's going on and is worried about wn's involvement

>>but also greatly dislikes wx and doesn't want some random innocent boy to suffer

>>which is how she too accidentally joins the club

>>mianmian joins too but loudly bc she's friends with wwx and lwj and also wx sucks

>>jzx is friends with mianmian so he gets dragged in

>>and he might be an arrogant prat atm but he's not a bad guy and wx's behavior is very despicable

>>jzx has some um Revelations about himself and his family

>>and accidentally becomes an honorary member of the club

>>they're all kinda friends now, it truly sucks, thinks jzx with a small smile

>>xuanli engagement is not broken/salvaged much earlier on bc of this whole

thing

>>anyway that's how all the major sects' youth became so closely entwined

>>lqr was very proud that his lectures enacted firm inter sect relationships

>>lxc is just egging on wangxian while also becoming an honorary member of the club

>>waterborne abyss and stuff still happens

>>jc is even angrier at the wens and straight up completely hides wwx the next time wx comes around so he doesn't even catch a glimpse

>>wx is not happy, especially when lwj is silently passive aggressive the whole time

>>cr study ends, there's this whole lingering wangxian moment when they say their goodbyes

>>wwx and lwj are close now but also lwj can sort of admit it instead of shoving it under years of repression and gay panic

>>lwj agrees to visit at lotus pier and wwx looks so enamored that jc gags and drags him away

>>mianmian snickers and pokes lwj in jest, who actually pokes her back

>>lxc is so proud, his brother has Friends

>>wx is a bit more careful around lotus pier, but he does visit once

>>jfm greets him and is very polite but yzy is very blunt and pissed

>>jc upon getting home had immediately spilled all the info on the wx thing

>>yzy doesn't like wwx but she hates the main wen and wx was being vv disrespectful

>>so she kinda tells wx that wwx isn't here (not a lie, he's on a nighthunt) and that he can go jump a cliff now thanks

>>wx is rather irritated when he leaves

>>comes back again on a later date, but this is the day that the cr friends are all hanging out

>>which isn't really an issue bc wwx is a social butterfly, it's part of what wx likes about him, obviously he has friends

>>but he sees the way wwx looks at lwj, and happens upon a moment where they're alone

>>he is Not Happy

>>in the meanwhile the cr friends are all chilling together and making fun of jzx flustering around jyl and eating lotus pods and whatever

>>yzy for once is like not overcome with irrational rage at wwx's presence bc he did something right for once in her eyes

>>so wwx gets some peace of mind at lotus pier

>>madam jin is also very delighted at the xuanli progress and approves wwx for enacting it

>>no one outside of jiangs + cr know why exactly xuanli are doing so well

>>so madam jin assumes wwx just kinda did some wingman stuff and doesn't know about the wx thing

>>anyway, wangxian is progressing quite nicely, and jc is all the more miserable for it

>>jzx kinda doesn't care lol, the rest of the club are delighted by the entertainment, yzy is further not angry at wwx bc wangxian engagement = lan-jiang alliance = advantageous

>>fast forward and we're at the discussion conference

>>jc is scowlier than usual and is literally holding wwx's hand the whole time

>>and wwx is like bro ty and ily but also this is a bit much

>>jc eventually lets go of his hand but he is never more than a few inches away from wwx's side

>>the state of wangxian at this time means we have wangxian blatantly and publicly mooning and everyone's like :eyes:

>>wx is not happy, shows up and immediately starts seeking out wwx, everyone is uncomfy

>>jc at one point grabs wwx and shoves him into the middle of all the jiang disciples

>>kinda doing that zebra camouflage thing but with jiang disciples lol

>>whenever it looks like wx is gonna ask him about wwx he crosses his arms and scowls severely

>>wx takes his seat very unhappily and the discussion conference proceeds as normal ig

>>but the friends are all taking part in the hunt together

>>wwx and lwj have a lil competition for who snags the most shots

>>lots of flirting during the competition, much to jzx and jc's chagrin

>>wn is just :pleading_face: the whole time but he does excellently and gives everyone a run for their money

>>the wc thing goes a lil differently in that wc is more incensed about wwx's existence bc he knows wx likes wwx

>>targets wwx, it backfired bc of lwj, wc leaves in a huff

>>lwj closely attaches himself to wwx after that, jc is pissed bc that's 2 wens who are making problems about wwx

>>the ribbon incident goes a lil differently

>>it happens after the competition, in front of all the sects

>>wx basically

goes oh your ribbon is crooked and fixes it gently and smiles at lwj and lwj says nothing, just quietly nods and thanks him

>>lqr approaches qi deviation, the sects are shocked, wwx is oblivious, lwj is smug, lxc and the friends are all metaphorically eating popcorn, wx is mad, wrh doesn't care, wq is worried bc wx

>>wx actually corners wwx at one point during a banquet when wwx's alone

>>interestingly, it's jzx who steps in to save the day

>>wwx doesn't need saving tbh but there's sociopolitics to consider + he's a lil scared of wx's persistence tbh

>>and he has a crisis bc on the one hand wwx can just run his mouth and hope for the best except he realizes that wx Likes when he runs his mouth

>>so yea jzx steps in and says something about jyl and wwx is like ahaha duty calls again and yeets

>>jzx just says compliments about jyl as they walk back to the jiang under the pretense of wanting to discuss the engagement

>>wwx reluctantly decides he's ok

>>the jiang keep a firm grip on wwx for the rest of the conference after that

>>jyl uses the shijie card to her advantage to get away with dragging wwx with her everywhere

>>the conference ends and wwx is relieved

>>oh btw wwx placed first by a small margin, lwj and wn following, then jc and jzx tied

>>so the sects are leaving and ofc wwx has to say goodbye to lwj

>>and lwj is like what is your request bc you won

>>and wwx is almost like kiss me but then he Doesn't ok

>>so instead wwx is like lemme think of something interesting :wink: to cover his pining

>>and lwj says mn and Smiles at him and wwx melts on the spot

>>wx catches the interaction and is very unhappy

>>fast forward to the burning of cr

>>there's a reason why wx did it personally, and targeted lwj especially

>>fast forward a bit again, wwx is a lil mopey bc his letter from lwj should've come a few days ago

>>they're pining pen pals bc ofc they are smh :rolling_eyes:

>>at this point, news of cr's destruction hasn't spread to lotus pier yet

>>jc is annoyed and yeets him into the lake and makes him swim off the pining

>>cue yunmeng jiang lake shenanigans

>>and then mf wx shows up to personally deliver the invitation to the wen indoctrination

>>jfm and yzy simply Do Not acknowledge wwx's existence at lotus pier in front of him

>>it's a very tense but quick conversation

>>and then wx leaves and hears wwx and heads in the direction of the latter's voice

>>he gets to the lake to see the jiang disciple swimming in the lake, but no wwx

>>bc jyl knew he had come and quickly run over to the lake to warn and hide wwx

>>jc perched himself on a roof to watch wx and let them know when he was gone

>>that meal they had in cql? yea it goes differently this time around

>>it's mostly yzy hissing at the wens and also having a conundrum over whether or not wwx should go

>>jc votes no, wwx votes shut up jc i'm coming with you

>>jfm concedes, jc is irate, wwx and jc go to the indoctrination

>>but jc makes wwx promise to not ever leave his side

>>and wwx is like that's kinda the whole point?? but ok

>>and then ofc that whole opening scene at nightless city happens

>>what with them standing around and then bam an injured lwj

>>ft the cr friends being all fhkjhkjsghk (/neg) internally

>>except wwx, he's very open about his concern

>>wc shows up, spends half the time glaring at wwx

>>he was supposed to be make it hell for lwj

>>but quite frankly he'd be happy if lwj snatched wwx

>>he very much dislikes his brother's infatuation with wwx

>>so yea it's roughly the same, those first few days

>>except wn secretly visits the disciples

>>slips snacks, gives info, exchanges messages between them, and treats lwj

>>wq finds out, scolds him, and then does the same, mostly treatment

>>and then the dungeon day comes

>>by which i mean that day wwx ended up in the dungeons with the dog thing

>>it goes the same as usual, except wc is particularly harsh, and is focused on wwx

>>so it happens sooner, and only wwx is involved

>>spends the night with the wolf thing, wn comes, yk the drill

>>except he knocks out at one point and wx gets him

>>and he wakes up

in a room and wq and wn are treating him

>>he's quickly given a coded warning

>>and then wx comes

>>wc had been forced out of leading the indoctrination and someone relatively competent is in his place

>>wx doesn't really let wwx go back tho

>>just makes wwx stay with him and basically invades his privacy and harasses him

>>for like. quite some time.

>>wwx also meets wrh a few times and it is. not fun.

>>wrh makes thinly veiled threats about war and attacking lotus pier and stuff

>>and wx reveals he was the one who requested and took charge of cr burning

>>and wwx is angry at wx but then wx gets angry and snaps threats

>>and wwx quiets and realizes wx is relentless

>>and that his connections are putting ppl he cares about at risk

>>it all kinda piles up and wx's insistence gets to his head

>>and then the bell scene (which started all this) happens

>>it might seem kinda ooc this whole thing but like

>>sexual trauma is very different from standard child abuse/classic asian toxicity

>>and you have to consider wwx's position as he has to put up with wx's everything

>>am i projecting? probably, but my au my choices

>>so the bell scene begins with all the heirs and their entourages gathered at that. place

>>idk what it's called but that place from cql where wc was lecturing

>>wc's substitute indoctrinator is like so. y'all can go home now. here's your swords.

>>and everyone's like omg????? but also cr friends are like ok where's wwx :upside_down:

>>and it's a very complicated moment

>>and then they give suibian to jc

>>and he almost kills someone bc he thinks they killed wwx

>>and then they're like no he's alive he just won't need that :upside_down:

>>jc is like WHAT does that even MEAN

>>and it's about to be a whole thing but then wwx shows up

>>and it's all ok for half a second

>>bc yes he's here but he is very obviously not ok

>>and it Shows, wwx is doing such a bad job hiding how not ok he is

>>cr friends are like. what did they do. who am i killing.

>>so now we enter - The Bell Exchange

>>wwx comes forward and (very poorly) tries to lighten the mood and tease jc and is like aw did you miss me

>>jc who was very much terrified is just like yes ofc come here Now let's go home

>>and wwx has this look on his face that's summed up as love and affection but also deep apology and secrecy

>>he slowly goes to jc and his hands are shaky as he takes off his bell and grabs jc's hands to give it to him

>>and wwx is very vague about it he's just like i won't be going back it's ok you're all free to go now i'm making sure of it go back home be safe

>>and jc is having the nth meltdown rn bc wwx what did you do

>>nhs has an idea of the gist, and all the c friends are very concerned

>>and then wen xu shows up and wwx does this silent flinch but in his bones and straightens up

>>and wx is mocking the others and stuff and then wraps an arm around a very uncomfortable wwx and is like

>>"you should be grateful to my fiance for his generous nature"

>>wwx is very obviously not having a good time and is not ok with this

>>he looks like he's going to launch himself from a cliff (hehehe) to avoid this

>>everyone is silent for a minute as they realize what happened

>>a lot of the disciples here were at cr indoctrination

>>so they know at least somewhat of wx's pursual of wwx and the unrequited feelings

>>and it becomes obvious that wwx exchanged something - his freedom, hand in marriage, etc - to set all the disciples free

>>jc draws sandu and is about to go for wx's head bc how Dare he

>>but wwx stops him and tells him very firmly but desperately to not try anything, just go, tell shijie i'm sorry, it'll be ok

>>lwj does that death grip on his sword, 2 seconds away from taking wx's head himself

>>jzx is having lots of feelings about this and a lot aren't nice

>>especially with the weird sort of parallels as far as betrothals

>>also he kinda likes wwx?? they're kinda friends?? and they're brother-in-laws to be anyway

>>and even despite all that, the whole situation just Sucks and jzx is kinda an airhead but he's actually pretty noble

>>mianmian is

like So offended and enraged on behalf of everyone she's ready to throw hands

>>nhs is half horrified for his friend and half cold rage and plotting

>>what really worsens the situations is just how bad wwx is taking it

>>bc he always covers up his pain and worries, and very well at that

>>the fact that he can barely even fake a smile now, and has resolved to outright desperate pleading, not even teasing anyone, says a Lot about how bad things were while he was gone

>>they have suspicions about what wx might have done to wwx while they were alone

>>tl;dr: cr friends kinda have an idea of what wx has done and really want him dead

>>but wwx is forcing them out, and eventually they all do leave, miserably

>>they don't know what had happened for them to be let go with their swords and without consequences

>>and they don't want wwx suffering for their (not really helpful atm) stubbornness

>>jc is stiff and clenching his jaw the entire way home, trying to figure out ways to get wwx out

>>lwj is drowning in his emotions as he goes back to the burnt cr

>>mianmian, jzx, nhs are having very complicated thought processes about everything

>>nhs actually goes with lwj to cr first, to make sure he doesn't do anything dumb and to be a friend

>>drops him off, and eventually heads out after a few days (lqr is appraised of the situation)

>>and lo and behold, he happens to find lxc on his way home, and brings big bro lan back to cr

[ main . ao3 ]

[paradife-loft]

Close reading all the Jin Guangyao scenes: episode 24

Episode 10 | Episode 11 | Episode 22 | Episode 23

The title of this is a lie, actually, since the first half? two thirds? of this is going to be finishing up with episode 23, but ah well.

So, I left off with the previous episode right after the deeply unfortunate clusterfuck of a conversation between Jin Guangyao, Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue, and Jin Guangshan, followed by “sometimes war crimes can double as grooming your extremely emotionally vulnerable son, and that’s terrible”. Which means now, it’s time for…

Swearing an (extremely ill-advised) oath of holy fratrimony!

This is a bit of speculation, since we see almost no detail on what went into the decision to become sworn brothers, but my read is that it at least partially reflects a political motive – tying prominent members of three clans together, rebuilding the rather demolished state of firm alliances and power left in the wake of a major war – while also reflecting a personal desire I think on Lan Xichen’s part to repair the rift between his two good friends, and offer them each a promise that they won’t be left isolated in the middle of larger forces trying to break them down.

The political aspect becomes a bit more apparent when considering the wording of the oath itself, actually: “We are liable to the immortal sects. We are to bring peace and stability to the commoners… If there is a change of heart, one will be faced with a thousand accusing fingers, and the wrath of Heaven and men!” – While this reflects a shared set of values, certainly, it also strikes me as relevant that these three, two of them current sect leaders, are swearing essentially not to become like the Wen clan that they’ve just deposed: they’ll be accountable to others, they’ll work for the benefit of those living under their authority, rather than capriciously throwing their weight around for personal gain.

Oh, and also - I’ve mentioned before, the dramatic irony here in how the consequences they invoke for failing to uphold the principles of their sworn brotherhood are in fact exactly what happens to Jin Guangyao in the end – given what’s to come, the oath he’s swearing ends up being more like a curse. Don’t swear oaths, kids, it never works out well. Of course, at the time, I don’t think he has any intention at all of betraying those principles – the “bring peace and stability to the commoners” part is certainly something he makes an effort to follow up on, once he has the power to do so! Still, for something that starts out with an explicit declaration to not be the sort of evil that Nie Mingjue so straightforwardly abhors, it’s… a very sad outcome.

Moving forward, we have… the most awkward set of greetings in the entire world, I swear. Mingjue shows up to the post-victory banquet and gets offered the world’s most politically-fraught location on the seating chart; Lan Xichen then reminds Jin Guangyao in front of the assembled members of three(!) separate sects to call him da-ge instead of Chifeng-zun. Jin Guangyao redoes his greeting/offer with the most intense deer-in-headlights look (pictured above), pretty clearly aware that Mingjue is not about to be happy with him. (This little exchange, including the encouraging nod also from LXC to NMJ, is further evidence beyond simply their general personalities I think, that Xichen was the driving force behind the brotherhood oath, especially in a personal sense.) But also, it serves as another piece of foreshadowing future events: knowing Mingjue is unlikely to be happy with the offer of Wen Ruohan’s old throne, Jin Guangshan hands the actual task of offering it off to Jin Guangyao. Here at least, Mingjue doesn’t get distracted from who’s really behind the offer, and addresses Jin Guangshan in vehemently refusing the seat; but it nonetheless continues establishing the pattern where JGS uses Jin Guangyao to be the primary face of his own less-than-savory political maneuvering.

(Which in general, makes me think it’s kind of interesting that he does have Jin Guangyao there greeting guests with him in the first place, and not Jin Zixuan? It’s a bit difficult for me to read what the status of co-greeter is supposed to be – second-in-command, or glorified servant? I think there may be a little bit of both, if JGY is there on one hand because he was the one setting the banquet up, but on the other hand also, because JGS wants to parade him around as his very own hero of the Sunshot Campaign, as Sect Leader Yao is so kind to remind us.

And then there’s... the one-on-one chat with Wei Wuxian.

First off, I’d like to link people to this post by @hunxi-guilai​, which honestly just goes over… a lot of what I probably would have liked to say about the implied meanings in this conversation. Essentially: Wei Wuxian is interested in what’s going on with this other Sunshot hero who also seems to be not carrying any sword (in a scene where we even see Jiang Yanli carrying hers!), and who had previously used a somewhat unorthodox weapon for his Wen Ruohan stabbing. Jin Guangyao though, is… not really interested in drawing attention to either of those facts (and I’m sure not in a way that would see him in solidarity with WWX), considering “unorthodox and outside the standard set of accepted behaviours in cultivator society” is the opposite of what he’s trying to look like right now.

Relevant to this, honestly, is the question of “what the fuck exactly even is a soft sword,” which CQL does approximately nothing to explain on the face of it, and only very implicitly does so if you’re obsessive like me and try to take blurry screenshots to compare the sword we see stabbing WRH with the sword that Jin Guangyao uses when fighting WWX’s paperman in episode 41.

Which do appear to be the same sword, inability to get a good clear look at it in either context notwithstanding. Oh, and JGY seems to have either repainted or swapped out the hilt, at some point in the intervening years – perhaps to better match the Jin clan’s aesthetic of white & gold sword decoration that we see on Jin Zixuan’s Suihua?

Anyway, for context on the “what’s a soft sword” issue, I am going to quote a relevant portion from the (EXR translation of the) MDZS novel, even though in general I’m trying to keep the canon cross-pollination in these meta to a minimum.

Back then, when Jin GuangYao worked undercover at Wen RuoHan’s side, he had often hidden the sword at his waist, wreathed the sword around his arm to use during critical moments. Although the blade of Hensheng seemed to be soft to the extremity, attacking with lingering motions, it was in reality both sharp and haunting. Once the blade had wrapped around the opposition, Jin GuangYao would apply it with a bizarre spiritual power, and one would quickly be severed into pieces by the sword, despite its tender appearance. Quite a few famous swords had been battered into piles of scrap iron just like this. At the moment, the blade of the sword attacked as though it was a serpent with silver scales, biting at the paperman without any hesitation.

So yeah – it’s an uncommon weapon, a sword with a blade that can bend and thus works very well for things like being sneaky and unassuming, and not fighting “fairly” in a way the vast majority of other cultivators would have any experience countering.

And... oh my god. Now we’re finally onto episode 24 properly.

The first input we get from Jin Guangyao this episode is this charming smirk as Wei Wuxian walks up into the center of the hall to interrupt JGS’s unpleasant “hey let’s renew this betrothal~” play. Personal amusement about a rather dramatic individual showing up to do something undoubtedly also dramatic? Entertainment about how a person not known for his skill at subtle political maneuvering is probably about to come in and make a mess that the Jin clan will be able to spin to their own advantage? Ehhh, why not both?

Though of course, the Jiang clan members function very well as a unit here once Wei Wuxian comes in to shake things up, and it’s not nearly the uncomplicated win for the Jin clan that he was probably expecting. Meanwhile, once that’s over, he takes the next opportunity to introduce his father’s next order of business, the invitation to the Phoenix Mountain hunt - and in fact, he does so with an absolutely seamless transition from Jiang Yanli’s rejection of the proposed marriage plan renewal:

“Everyone. For the previous Clan Leader Jiang to have such a daughter is already a great comfort to his soul. And not just Jiang Clan, but after the mess with the Wen Clan, every clan has experienced losses. This is a crucial time for us to rebuild and we critically are in need of manpower. For the past days, Father has spent a lot of time pondering over this matter. Luckily, he’s found a countermeasure. I dare to represent my father in inviting everyone back to Jinlintai during the fall. Jin clan will be putting all efforts towards reorganizing the round-up and hunting event at Hundred Phoenixes Mountain.”

It’s easy to overlook, I think, but the amount of rhetorical skill to put that together on the fly? It’s really not for nothing that Meng Yao was first introduced as being impressively sharp and well-spoken. He’s taking what starts as a loss of face for the Jin clan, redirecting it to focus on the virtue of Jiang Yanli, and then tying that in to the losses and worries that every sect now has in the wake of the war ending. And having reminded them of their own interests and present worries here, he steps in to offer a solution that slots the Jin clan in back at the top, looking extremely good, due to the wealth and comparative manpower advantage they have over everyone else after entering the war relatively late.

(Also, to clarify since it’s only ever implied rather than stated outright in the show, via the dialogue here and then another piece during the hunt itself – the Hundred Phoenix Mountain hunt, from what I can tell, is a regular event held for the purpose of showing off each clan’s skills so that they can attract new prospective disciples, hence why it’s a solution to the sects’ manpower being depleted by the war. Additionally, given the use in particular of reorganizing the event, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that ordinarily, this event would be one put on by the Chief Cultivator. So with the Wen sect demolished, there was nobody readily available to step up and take over handling this event until now. Jin Guangshan may be fooling none of the viewers about his intentions in adopting a seat right next to Wen Ruohan’s old chair, but he’s certainly making good use of a-Yao’s rhetorical talent to get yet another instance of stepping into the role vacated by the Wen sect looked upon as praiseworthy benevolence.)

…And then what thanks does he get for it? Some dispassionate praise, more work, and no appreciation for the tea he’s made.

It’s a bit telling (and painful) the way he responds to being asked if he’s found the location of the Yin metal yet, also: “Not yet; I’m incompetent.” I think he’s definitely the sort to feel, even as he’s very aware of the worth of his skills and what sort of areas he’s good with in some respects, the foundation of his belief in himself is nonetheless incredibly rocky and it’s easy for a reminder of any sort of failure to loom suddenly very large over his self-assessment in the moment.

At the same time though, Jin Guangyao is very much an adaptable person, and we see that on full display with his next explanation: that the one who has the last piece of Yin metal may very likely be Wei Wuxian. It’s both an exercise in political savvy, pointing out a powerful and disruptive influence likely to cause problems for Jin Guangshan in the future if his interference in the marriage proposal is any indication, and a significant sewing together of information from several different sources: Wei Wuxian’s opportunity to be in the same place previously as Xue Yang, as he explains to JGS, but also the front-row seat for WWX interfering with the power of Wen Ruohan’s Yin metal using Chenqing and his new Yin Tiger Seal.

I don’t think he holds any particular animosity toward Wei Wuxian at this point? This reads to me like a calculation based pretty essentially on: his father is clearly invested in expanding the power of the Jin sect and diminishing the interest or ability of other sects to oppose him, and also in (instrumentally to that goal) getting his hands on the last piece of Yin metal. Jin Guangyao has been explicitly tasked with working on the latter concern, and probably implicitly at least with the former - at some point, and some point soon, he’s going to need to produce results on that front, or else be dropped from JGS’s incredibly conditional regard for not being useful enough. Given the confluence of circumstances, lining up suspicions (which for all he knows are likely even true!) against Wei Wuxian serves both goals, and gives him another safe place to rest for a day or two before having to continue worrying how to be helpful enough to keep deserving his newfound status.

And that’s it for Jin Guangyao in episode 24! Poor kiddo. Looks like you can climb another rung higher on the ladder, sure, but it doesn’t mean you’ll make it free of being used for quite a long while still.

[merakilyy]

Tales of an Unsuccessful Matchmaker

Six months after the Guanyin temple, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji still aren’t together. Jingyi snaps because if his oblivious seniors can't talk about their feelings, then Jingyi is going to take matters into his own hands and make them talk.

Naturally, he enlists the help of Lan Xichen to matchmake a little.

Just a little.

(In which Sizhui is 100% of Jingyi's impulse control, Wangji is lonely, Jingyi may or may not break into the Hanshi via window, and Xichen is surprisingly permissive.)

Tags: Wangxian, post-canon, matchmaking, accidental secret marriage, Jingyi being a menace who just wants his otp to get together already

(On AO3) Wordcount: almost 7600

~~~

If you asked Lan Sizhui, he would describe Lan Jingyi as a cesspool of bad ideas. He would say it with affection and add that Jingyi is still a very talented cultivator whose penchant for more creative solutions has provided much entertainment during their night hunts and saved his life at least once, but it was unofficially Sizhui’s job to keep Jingyi’s worst impulses in line.

However, with Sizhui travelling with Wen Ning outside Gusu for several months, there was no one left to temper Jingyi’s wilder ideas.

Furthermore, Sizhui had inadvertently planted another questionable idea into the mind of Lan Jingyi in his most recent letter.

Lan Jingyi,

I hope that you are well and that you have not caused Grandmaster Lan to suffer another aneurysm.

Uncle Wen Ning and I went to visit the Burial Mounds. It is just as barren as the last time we were there but Uncle Wen Ning told me stories of how Wei- qianbei learned to restrain the resentful energy so they could farm the land and grow radishes. No potatoes, though. It is not a nice place, and even the best memories are bittersweet, but it is a part of my past and I am happy to learn all that I can about my first family. Uncle Wen Ning says Wei- qianbei even managed to grow lotuses in the Burial Mounds. Can you imagine? I thought Uncle Wen Ning was teasing me until I saw three dried lotus seeds in the dirt.

Briefly, Jingyi wondered when the fearsome Ghost General became Uncle Wen Ning to Sizhui, to himself, and to all the other junior disciples. Was it before they accidentally turned Wen Ning green from an aggressive plant spirit, or was it after Wen Ning paused a night hunt so he could rescue a kitten from a tree as they all watched? Jingyi didn’t ponder this very long; his thoughts quickly drifted elsewhere as he continued reading.

After we left the Burial Mounds, we ran into Wei- qianbei and Lil’ Apple in Yiling. He says that he’s been travelling on his own for the past few months. I was surprised that he’s been gone for so long without Hanguang-jun at his side. He seems tired. Later, I asked Uncle Wen Ning about Hanguang-jun and he simply said Wei- qianbei and Hanguang-jun know each other best. I am not sure what that means but Uncle Wen Ning did not say more on that subject. Before Wei-qianbei parted ways with us, I offered him the lotus seeds I found in the Burial Mounds but Wei- qianbei refused. He said that I should hold onto them until he can settle down somewhere to plant them. Do you think he’ll ever come back to Cloud Recesses?

Sizhui’s letter went on a bit more to say he and Uncle Wen Ning were going to Lanling next and that they might visit Sect Leader Young Mistress Jin but Jingyi’s mind had already begun churning with a new idea.

Sizhui had said nothing about whether or not Wei Wuxian was lonely but he was alone! And tired! With only that stupid donkey! So of course he was lonely without Hanguang-jun at his side. Furthermore, Uncle Wen Ning was the one who knew the most about Wei- qianbei and Hanguang-jun’s relationship and describing them as those who know each other best is basically confirmation that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are soulmates.

Plus, Wei-qianbei was waiting to settle down somewhere. Somewhere with enough space to grow lotus flowers. But, also somewhere where Sizhui could easily give him the seeds which meant Cloud Recesses. And, since Hanguang-jun lived in Cloud Recesses, Wei-qianbei must be waiting for Hanguang-jun to confess so he can settle down in the Jingshi. In Cloud Recesses.

Rather proud of his ability to read between the lines, Jingyi began to formulate a plan with his newfound knowledge.

~~~

When he woke up the next day, Jingyi reviewed his plan from the previous night and almost considered scrapping it as he realized he forgot to account for Hanguang-jun’s feelings. Even though Uncle Wen Ning almost confirmed Hanguang-jun’s feelings, how well did Uncle Wen Ning really know Hanguang-jun?

As he finished tying his forehead ribbon in place, Jingyi decided to shelve his plan until he could properly ascertain Hanguang-jun’s feelings towards Wei- qianbei . For now, he decided to simply gather evidence of Hanguang-jun’s feelings.

Evidence, as it turned out, was not difficult to find.

As he headed towards the cafeteria for breakfast, Jingyi saw Hanguang-jun sitting on the porch of the Jingshi in a chair that Jingyi had only ever seen Wei Wuxian use before. Hanguang-jun was impeccably dressed as always, an intricate guan woven into his hair and without a wrinkle to be seen on his spotless white robes. With a pot of tea balanced on the window ledge beside him, Hanguang-jun was reading a letter. Ducking behind a pillar, Jingyi watched as Hanguang-jun flipped through page after page of writing. There were so many pages that Jingyi initially thought the letter might actually be documents from other Sects requiring mediation from the Chief Cultivator. But after taking a closer look, Jingyi saw how a few pages contained doodles in the margins and only one person could be so shameless. Even without seeing the messy scrawl, Jingyi knew it was from Wei Wuxian because no one else would send such ridiculously long-winded letters — especially not to Hanguang-jun. No one else dared send long, verbose letters to a man whose Sect literally had rules that restricted the use of words.

Do not use frivolous words, speak meagerly for too many words will bring harm, do not take your own words lightly, be careful with your words, Lan Jingyi recites in the back of his mind. After having copied the rules so many times, they are easily imprinted in his mind. Wei- qianbei definitely broke all of the rules , Jingyi thinks while he observes Hanguang-jun’s expressions as he reads.

Unlike Sizhui, Jingyi did not have the privilege of being raised by Hanguang-jun for most of his childhood. It was more accurate to say Jingyi, like most members of Gusu Lan, knew of Hanguang-jun instead of knowing Hanguang-jun.

Still, Jingyi has taken enough classes with Hanguang-jun to be familiar enough with major changes in Hanguang-jun’s expressions. Even if Jingyi can’t name the soft expression on Hanguang-jun’s face right now, Jingyi recognizes the look. He saw it at Dafan Mountain, when he requested Mo Xuanyu be moved into the Jingshi, when he and Wei- qianbei rescued them from the Burial Mounds, and after the Guanyin Temple.

It was an expression reserved for Wei Wuxian.

Hanguang-jun’s expression barely changes as he continues reading. Occasionally, Hanguang-jun will flip back to an earlier page with an amused huff.

This should be the most boring endeavor Jingyi has ever undertaken. He has never been a good scout, and even worse at night patrols because he would get bored so quickly.

But, watching the subtle shifts in Hanguang-jun’s expression is more entertaining than Jingyi would have guessed. He is no expert at reading Hanguang-jun, or at reading people in general, but it is fun to guess at the shifts in Hanguang-jun’s expressions. Even Jingyi can see the soft, deeply rooted affection Hanguang-jun has for Wei- qianbei in how he holds the paper with such care, in how he is possibly smiling at Wei- qianbei ’s little drawings, and in how Hanguang-jun looks very lonely sitting on the Jingshi porch alone.

Ouyang Zizhen would be having a field day with this information, Jingyi thinks.

Jingyi is so lost in his thoughts between what his friends would say about observing Hanguang-jun and actually observing Hanguang-jun that he startles when Hanguang-jun himself says, “Breakfast will begin soon. Do not be late.”

Carefully tucking the thick wad of paper into his sleeve, Hanguang-jun stands and makes his way to the communal dining area.

Jingyi has too much dignity to scurry out from his hiding spot right before Hanguang-jun’s sharp eyes. Luckily, Hanguang-jun is not interested in punishing Jingyi and moves toward the dining area. But, before leaving, he says, “Eavesdropping is forbidden, Lan Jingyi.”

Just as Hanguang-jun’s back disappears around another corner, the warning gong for breakfast rings.

Flustered, Jingyi tries to collect himself as he scrambles to his feet. He is enough of a Lan to not run, but he is definitely pushing the limits of speed walking so he will not be late for breakfast.

~~~

Having deemed that morning’s events to be sufficient evidence of Hanguang-jun’s deep yearning for the return of Wei- qianbei , Jingyi decides he needs someone who knows Hanguang-jun well enough to help him formulate a plan.

Ideally, Sizhui would have been the best partner. Not only has Sizhui been raised by Hanguang-jun, Sizhui is also Jingyi’s equal and a close friend which would make the need for formalities unnecessary. Sizhui is also the best at curbing Jingyi's wildest ideas.

But, Sizhui is still travelling with Uncle Wen Ning.

The only other person who knows Hanguang-jun well enough to assist Jingyi is Zewu-jun who is...not exactly in seclusion, but he is not not in seclusion either. Jingyi doesn’t understand it either.

But, Jingyi does know that while Zewu-jun himself has not been seen leaving the Hanshi, Zewu-jun is perfectly free to leave if he so desired. More importantly, people are allowed into the Hanshi. Confident that Zewu-jun would do anything to help Hanguang-jun, Jingyi decides to seek his aid.

Without Sizhui around to slow Jingyi down, to encourage Jingyi to sleep on his plans before enacting them, Jingyi decides to put his plan into action the first chance he gets.

That evening, armed with nothing but the bare bones of a plan and his desire to help Lan Wangji, Jingyi marches up to the doors of the Hanshi for the first time in his life.

Seeing the candlelight flicker through the open window of the Hanshi, Jingyi takes a deep breath and knocks.

He meant to gracefully entire the Hanshi, politely and through the door. He would bow at the full angle, speak at the proper volume, and would present his objective in a calm, respectable proposal. There was a plan, and Jingyi had intended to carry out that plan.

What Jingyi did not account for was Sect Leader Lan’s refusal to open the door. Like any self-respecting cultivator of the Gusu Lan Sect, Jingyi was reasonably terrified of Lan Xichen. But, dire circumstances call for extreme measures. With no other choice, Jingyi turns to the window.

Seeing that there is no one else in the vicinity, Jingyi messily pushes his long sleeves up to his elbows before leaping at the window ledge.

Admittedly, Jingyi didn’t think it was a good idea either. He is basically breaking into the Hanshi, breaking hundreds of rules, and Zewu-jun might run him through with Shuoyue if Jingyi is mistaken for an intruder. Which...Jingyi technically is. But Jingyi tells himself this is a necessary evil, that Zewu-jun is too level-headed to respond with Shuoyue, and that Hanguang-jun’s happiness is on the line. He is still reciting this in his head, like a mantra, as he backs up and dives directly into Zewu-jun’s window.

Jingyi miscalculates his own power and ends up jumping through the window entirely, landing in a flailing, graceless heap as Zewu-jun watches from behind a desk. Zewu-jun’s face is composed as always and his eyes aren’t even open, but Jingyi feels judged as he picks himself up from the ground.

“Sect Leader,” Jingyi salutes, robes askew and regulating ribbon crooked across his forehead. He had already broken enough rules, he figures being respectful to his Sect Leader might mediate the number of lines he’d have to copy as punishment.

“You should not be here,” Lan Xichen’s voice is...impassive. Where he once faced the world with a serene smile, Xichen now faces directly ahead, eyes closed, as still as jade. He does not even bother to address Jingyi directly.

In retrospect, Jingyi will later realize that he has interrupted Lan Xichen’s nightly meditation.

At the moment, Jingyi is more than a little desperate. “Sect Leader Lan,” he bows again, even though Lan Xichen’s eyes remain closed. “I know you are...taking a personal leave from many of your duties, but this is a problem that has plagued Gusu Lan for several months now.”

“Then I suggest you take it to Wangji,” Xichen says, unmoved, in the same placid tone. “Hanguang-jun is more than capable of resolving any issues that have arisen.”

Even though Jingyi’s arms are getting tired and Zewu-jun still isn’t looking at him, Jingyi holds the salute. Just in case. “But Zewu-jun,” Jingyi says, trying very hard to not sound like he is challenging Zewu-jun’s authority, “This is an issue that concerns Hanguang-jun directly.”

Immediately, Zewu-jun’s eyes open and he finally looks at Jingyi. “What is the situation?” Xichen asks, concerned.

“Hanguang-jun is sad!” Jingyi says. It is only his rigorous Gusu Lan education that allows him to will his arms from shaking as he continues to maintain his salute.

“At ease,” Xichen says, giving up on his nightly meditation. “Wangji has been in mourning for a long time but he has been content since Wei- gongzi ’s return.”

Folding his arms in his sleeves politely, Jingyi protests while trying very hard to not sound like he is protesting. “I have evidence that Hanguang-jun is sad!” he says.

“Please take a seat,” Zewu-jun sighs and waves a hand at the cushion before him. He waits for Jingyi to kneel before continuing. “What does this evidence entail?”

“Hanguang-jun was sitting in front of the Jingshi alone before breakfast!”

Jingyi can see that Zewu-jun is unconvinced, even if Lan Xichen’s expression does not change. “Wangji often spends time alone. Wangji enjoys solitude.”

“But he was lonely! He looked lonely!” Later, Sizhui will smack Jingyi for impertinence and Lan Qiren will assign more handstands.

Now, Lan Xichen is unruffled at Jingyi’s boldness and is even amused at the extent of Jingyi’s sheer brazenness. “You have seen Wangji alone before,” Xichen points out calmly. “Why the concern now?”

“Because Wei- qianbei isn’t with Hanguang-jun!”

“Wangji’s connection with Wei- gongzi is profound. It is not our place as outsiders to interfere.” Zewu-jun says this with the weighty experience of someone who has attained this knowledge firsthand in the worst way.

“But they still aren’t together! Lan Sizhui has written to me so much about how lonely Wei- qianbei is! Read for yourself!” Having at least the foresight to prepare himself beforehand, Jingyi pulls Sizhui’s crumpled letter from his sleeve and just barely resists the temptation to thrust it in Lan Xichen’s face. At the last minute, he remembers some manners and offers the letter to Zewu-jun with both hands and lowers his head..

Taking the proffered letter, Xichen skims the contents of Sizhui’s neat handwriting. To Jingyi’s frustration, Xichen’s composed expression does not change.

“Lan Jingyi,” Xichen says slowly, choosing his words with care as he looks back up at Jingyi, “I understand that you are frustrated.”

Jingyi huffs a laugh under his breath — as if frustrated even begins to cover how he feels , Jingyi thinks — before he remembers who he is speaking to and tries to look abashed over his rudeness.

Brushing past the infraction, Xichen continues, “And I understand that you wish to see Hanguang-jun and your Wei- qianbei together again. But, you are not the first to attempt such an undertaking.”

“But Zewu-jun! They are clearly pining and miserable without each other!”

If Jingyi had been paying attention, he would have realized that Sizhui’s letter was actually not very good evidence as it made no explicit mention of Wei Wuxian actually missing Hanguang-jun. It was sheer fortune that Zewu-jun happened to already agree with him.

“Zewu-jun,” Jingyi begs in a last attempt to sway Xichen to his side, “They use their birth names with each other.”

Xichen sighs. “I will not aid this endeavor of yours, but I see no reason to prevent you from undertaking such a project. So long as you operate within our Sect rules, I will not stop you. In exchange, I expect routine updates on how this project of yours proceeds. I invite you to join me for tea in one week's time so you may inform me of developments in the situation.”

Much later, once this ploy has reached its conclusion, Lan Sizhui will hit Jingyi over the head for his audacity in breaking into the Hanshi, for his disrespect in speaking back at Zewu-jun, and for violating curfew.

For now, Jingyi is simply grateful that Zewu-jun agrees with him.

~~~

The first plan is fairly benign.

What Jingyi needs is to first bring Wei Wuxian back to Cloud Recesses. So, he simply sends a letter to Wei Wuxian lamenting how lonely Hanguang-jun is and how worried he is for Hanguang-jun and won’t Wei- qianbei come visit an old friend in his time of need?

Wei- qianbei, Jingyi had written.

How long do you intend to run around with that stupid donkey? Don’t you know Hanguang-jun is sick with worry here in Cloud Recesses? Hanguang-jun is very lonely without your presence and it is very rude of you to take advantage of Hanguang-jun’s kindness and then abandon him. You must come back and take responsibility for the suffering you are putting Hanguang-jun through!

It could have been a good plan.

Except, Jingyi had no way of knowing the sheer quantity of letters Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji sent to each other. The letters were constant, daily updates of even the most mundane events. When Jingyi had happened upon Lan Wangji reading Wei Wuxian’s letters in front of the Jingshi, Lan Wangji had actually been rereading and reorganizing a stack of all the letters Wei Wuxian had sent that month and not, as Jingyi had assumed, been reading a single letter.

Since Wei Wuxian gave Lan Wangji timelines of where he intended to go next and when he would arrive, Wangji had been able to leave Wei Wuxian letters and little gifts in every village he passed through.

So, Wei Wuxian was confident that Lan Wangji was in perfect health and no more worried than he usually is.

What Jingyi did not know was that Wei Wuxian also knew how much Lan Wangji missed him. He missed Wangji just as much, but he had some travelling to do first, some loose ends to tie up, and an identity to reclaim.

A couple weeks after Jingyi had sent his letter, Hanguang-jun summons him to the yashi.

“Chief Cultivator,” Jingyi bows. “Hanguang-jun requested the presence of this disciple?” While formal speech is not something that flows off Jingyi’s tongue, he has never been directly summoned by the Chief Cultivator Lan Wangji. Jingyi is most comfortable with Hanguang-jun as a teacher and mentor, but he figures that it is better to err on the side of caution and maintain the utmost formality.

“Lan Jingyi,” Wangji nods his acknowledgement. “I recently received a letter from Wei Ying.”

Jingyi blinks, unsure where Hanguang-jun is going with this and why Hanguang-jun is telling him.

“Wei Ying has informed me that he has recently received an interesting letter,” Wangji continues.

Jingyi blanches.

To his horror, Lan Wangji reaches into his sleeve and pulls out the exact letter Jingyi had sent off weeks earlier.

“I believe this is your doing.”

Jingyi splutters, his mind scrambling for a defense even though he knows there is none he can provide without giving away his entire plan.

Luckily, Hanguang-jun saves Jingyi from answering by continuing to speak. “Do not make assumptions about others,” he recites, listing the rules Jingyi has broken. “Do not exaggerate, and do not act in bad faith. Be careful with your words.”

“This disciple apologizes for his interference,” Jingyi says as he prostrates himself before Hanguang-jun. “This disciple welcomes any punishment Hanguang-jun sees fit to bestow.”

“Rise.” Despite his new position, Wangji is as uncomfortable with being formally bowed to as Jingyi is formally bowing. “You will copy the rules two times, supervised by Lan Qiren in the library pavilion.”

Which is a very light punishment, all things considered, and Jingyi is well aware of how lenient Hanguang-jun is being.

In his haste to leave the yashi, Jingyi does not realize that Hanguang-jun did not quote do not tell lies amongst the rules he had broken.

~~~

“I sent a letter to Wei- qianbei,” Jingyi informs Lan Xichen in the Hanshi the next day, after his punishment is complete.

“Am I correct in assuming it was unsuccessful?” Xichen says mildly as he pours a cup of tea for Jingyi.

“Wei- qianbei sent the letter I sent him back to Hanguang-jun,” Jingyi grumbles, accepting the tea.

With a deeply entertained smile, Zewu-jun hides his amusement behind his own tea cup.

~~~

The second plan is an objectively terrible idea.

The flaw with Lan Xichen’s hands off approach to Jingyi’s whole endeavor is that he is unable to point out the glaring flaws in Jingyi’s plans.

Because of Sizhui’s brief mention of the lotus seeds he uncovered in the Burial Mounds, Jingyi is reminded that Wei- qianbei was not always the Yiling Laozu or a vagrant wanderer. Before he was forced to raise corpses in battle, Wei Wuxian had been the head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang who spent his days surrounded by water and lotus flowers.

Consequently, Jingyi has been inspired to plant some lotuses in Cloud Recesses. Growing lotuses, a plant that Jingyi has only seen once in his life and has never handled, requires a pond. A pond, which would require some source of still water which would also require diverting a river. Or building an aqueduct. Or having the means to hire someone else to build an aqueduct. Or use demonic energy to redirect the flow of water.

Neither hiring someone nor using demonic energy is a viable option but Jingyi pushes those logistics to the side as a problem to be addressed for later.

Instead, during a break between training sessions, Jingyi finds himself a shovel and gets to work.

Jingyi is standing in a shallow ditch he has dug out himself behind the Jingshi, right under a window, when he hears Lan Qiren’s familiar bellow coming from too close behind him.

“Lan Jingyi! What do you think you are doing?!”

Jingyi turns to face Lan Qiren. Holding the shovel, Jingyi bows before answering. “Digging?”

“Disgraceful!” Lan Qiren’s face is redder than Jingyi has ever seen it, even redder than when Wei Wuxian paraded around in front of everyone in Hanguang-jun’s under robes at the Burial Mounds. “Look at your robes! This is unacceptable. We do not need a trench in Cloud Recesses. Fill it back up.”

In his endless wisdom, Jingyi protests. “But wouldn’t a lotus pond be nice?”

“Do Cloud Recesses look like Lotus Pier to you!?” Lan Qiren snaps. “We are not in Yunmeng. Did Wangji put you up to this ludicrous task?”

“Of course not! If Hanguang-jun had planted a lotus pond, then Wei- qianbei would be here!”

Which is exactly the wrong thing to say as Jingyi discovers when he finds himself back in the library pavilion, with Lan Qiren, copying the rules forty times in handstands.

And he had to fill the earth back in.

~~~

“I am no expert on the cultivation of lotus plants but I suspect Cloud Recesses is too cold. Yunmeng is far warmer than we are and has milder winters.”

“How was I supposed to know that!?” Jingyi grumbles, wrists still sore from his punishment.

Xichen does not shrug, but his demeanor heavily suggests a shrug. “In any case, Shufu is rather opposed to Wangji’s relationship with Wei Wuxian.”

“Well I know that now .”

~~~

The third plan is indirectly inspired by Lan Qiren himself when he assigns Jingyi the task of delivering Cloud Recesses’ excess harvest to the nearby villages. Jingyi is carrying several baskets of napa bundles and medicinal herbs on his dan when he passes by a field of peppers.

The bright green peppers remind Jingyi of that day in Yi City, when Wei- qianbei tried to claim his lethally spicy porridge was supposed to be medicine. A claim he made to several junior disciples of Gusu Lan. Gusu Lan: the sect with the most experience with medicinal cooking.

At the time, Jingyi thought he was more likely to choke on Mo- xiansheng ’s terrible cooking than die from corpse powder poisoning.

Now, the entire experience has stirred Jingyi’s thoughts as he formulates another plan on how to lure Wei Wuxian back to Cloud Recesses.

The thing is, while Jingyi actually has very little concrete knowledge of what Wei Wuxian enjoys eating, he does know that Yunmeng Jiang is known for their spicy and flavourful cuisine. Sizhui has also mentioned Wei- qianbei ’s penchant for spicier dishes in his letters, as has Uncle Wen Ning in his stories. And, when they had stayed at inns with Hanguang-jun and Wei- qianbei , Hanguang-jun always ordered uncharacteristically spicy dishes and requested additional chili oil.

With this evidence, Jingyi concludes that Wei Wuxian is a degenerate gremlin who has burned his tongue.

A degenerate gremlin whom Hanguang-jun is desperately in love with.

It is not a secret that Wei Wuxian despises Gusu cuisine for its bland tastelessness and bitter medicinal properties.

But if someone were to adjust Cloud Recesses’ diet to include more spices, Jingyi thinks, then Wei- qianbei will enjoy the food and stay with Hanguang-jun.

“Are these spicy?” With his mind made up, Jingyi asks the farmer tending to the peppers as he unloads the last of his napa and herbs.

“The spiciest in Gusu!” The farmer responds.

Jingyi has no conception of how spicy that is but it must be spicy enough to make Cloud Recesses’ dishes flavourful enough for Wei- qianbei .

“Here,” the farmer pulls a bundle from his pocket and presses it into Jingyi’s hand. “Take this huajiao as well. It is a numbing spice imported from Yunmeng. It is too strong for my wife and I but I am sure a young master of an illustrious Sect like yourself will find some use for it.”

There is no rule against accepting gifts and it is not unusual for disciples to return with goods gifted by grateful farmers so Jingyi doesn’t feel bad about taking both the huajiao and a basket of peppers.

It takes another couple weeks until Jingyi is rotated onto food preparation in the kitchens again. In those weeks, Jingyi observed Hanguang-jun receive another bundle of letters from Wei-qianbei, request additional pillows and bedding for the Jingshi, and told Jingyi not to fill in the ditch he had dug behind the Jingshi. Jingyi filed this as further proof that Hanguang-jun is desperately missing Wei-qianbei and told Zewu-jun as such.

For his part, Zewu-jun simply sipped his tea and listened to Jingyi’s incessant chatter without judgement.

In the kitchen, Jingyi is standing by the stoves, watching the row of pots and pans slowly cook over the fire. The packet of huajiao and peppers are burning in his sleeve.

Briefly, it does occur to Jingyi that he really does not know how much spice is necessary to adequately flavour an entire dish. Thinking on how red and colourful the dishes Hanguang-jun served to Wei- qianbei were, Jingyi figures more spice is better.

When no one is looking, Jingyi slips the peppers and huajiao into each dish, pouring equal amounts into the pot of rice, the pan of leafy vegetables, and the crock of soup.

He uses up everything the farmer had given him.

Belatedly, Jingyi considers that he maybe should have kept some of the spice for the next time he is on kitchen duty, but decides that murmurs of Gusu Lan serving spiced food on one occasion will be enough to at least temporarily bring Wei Wuxian back to Cloud Recesses. Wei- qianbei will inevitably come if only to question Hanguang-jun and Jingyi is rather optimistic that he will be able to convince Wei- qianbei to stay. He just needs Wei- qianbei to be in Gusu.

As he waits for everyone to be seated for dinner, Jingyi is almost vibrating with anticipation. Lan Qiren does not notice, simply giving Jingyi a cursory glare of disapproval. Hanguang-jun, however, does notice. He gives Jingyi an admonitory look, indicating that he knows Jingyi is up to something, but says nothing as he takes his seat at the main table.

Once the dinner finally commences, Jingyi is disappointed to see that the dishes appear to be the same mild colouring they always are. Then the disciple beside him gags on an unsuspecting bite, coughing and spewing his rice back into his bowl.

Looking around, Jingyi sees that several sect members are coughing and choking on the rice. It is no better for those who are attempting to suppress the spice with the soup.

Lan Qiren’s face is dangerously red and he looks like he very much wants to be yelling, but no longer has control over his own mouth. He sits panting heavily, trying to relax his burning throat and cool his tongue.

Only Hanguang-jun is unbothered, calmly bringing bite after bite to his mouth. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the spice, but he appears otherwise unaffected.

Trying his concoction for himself, Jingyi fares much less well than Hanguang-jun as he breaks out in a string of violent coughs. Despite the inoffensive colouring, the spices are very strong even if it is less spicy than the concoction Wei Wuxian fed them.

Still, Jingyi can’t feel his tongue.

~~~

As Lan Qiren is angry enough to want nothing to do with Jingyi and Hanguang-jun is mired under stacks of paperwork, Jingyi’s punishment is left to Lan Xichen’s supervision.

“That explains the delay in my dinner that evening,” Xichen ponders aloud as he watches Jingyi balance in a handstand against the wall of the Hanshi, holding a brush over a half filled sheet of paper.

“Grandmaster has banned me from the kitchens indefinitely.” Jingyi barely bites back a groan as a splotch of ink drips from his brush, marring the characters he has already copied.

“Shh,” Xichen prompts gently, resuming his own meditation. “There are two hundred and eighty-three copies remaining.”

~~~

Despite the monumental failure of his previous attempts, Jingyi’s zealousness has not waned. If anything, continuing to watch Hanguang-jun walk around all alone and very lonely has only hardened his conviction. He is ready to enact his fourth plan which involves Fairy, Fairy finding Wei Wuxian, a long chase through clear fields with no trees to hide in, and the timely arrival of Hanguang-jun.

Jingyi is halfway through writing a letter to Jin Ling to negotiate borrowing Fairy when he receives his own letter from Sizhui.

Lan Jingyi,

I hope you have not pushed Grandmaster any closer to a Qi derivation in my absence. Uncle Wen Ning and I left Lanling last week. (Jin Ling sends his regards.) I will be returning to Cloud Recesses soon. But first, Uncle Wen Ning and I will be making a detour to Qinghe to pick up a parcel for Wei- qianbei before traveling to Gusu together. Wei- qianbei says he will reconvene with us in Caiyi. Hanguang-jun will be with him.

Take care, and do not break too many rules in the coming days. I have much to share with you of my adventures, of what I have seen, and the many stories Uncle Wen Ning has been telling me.

Lan Sizhui

Jingyi is ecstatic, pushing his half finished letter to Jin Ling aside. With Hanguang-jun and Wei- qianbei together, they would finally talk out their deep-seated, all-consuming love for one another and Hanguang-jun would finally stop being lonely.

He finishes drafting his letter to Jin Ling anyway, just in case he still needs to resort to Fairy.

A couple days later, Hanguang-jun leaves Cloud Recesses.

As soon as Jingyi sees Hanguang-jun’s back disappear around the curved path leading down the mountain, he quickly walks to the Hanshi.

Before Zewu-jun, Jingyi still carries out the motions of bowing even though his arms are sloppy and his angle is sloppy.

“Lan Jingyi,” Zewu-jun nods, gesturing for Jingyi to take a seat at the table. “There are still three days until our regular scheduled tea time,” Xichen says mildly, pouring Jingyi a cup of tea anyway.

“Hanguang-jun has left Cloud Recesses to find Wei- qianbei . Shouldn’t we follow Hanguang-jun?”

To Jingyi’s surprise, Xichen is as placid as ever and completely unbothered, taking a slow sip of his own tea before answering. “There is no need. Wangji has informed me that he will return tomorrow with Wei Wuxian, Lan Sizhui, and Wen Qionglin.”

Jingyi only sips his tea out of politeness. “But Sect Leader, shouldn’t we follow Hanguang-jun to make sure he finally confesses? Wei- qianbei is so annoying and doesn’t realize how much he loves Hanguang-jun!” Belatedly, it occurs to Jingyi that it is bad form to be insulting a senior in front of his Sect Leader, nevermind a senior who is going to become his Sect Leader’s brother-in-law.

But Lan Xichen is unphased, having long since grown accustomed to Jingyi’s brand of chaos. “While there is no harm in facilitating opportunities for Wangji and Wei- gongzi to explore their feelings, we cannot force them to speak what is not ready to be spoken.”

“But they’ve been doing this for so long!”

“Jingyi, you are not the first to attempt to push Wei- gongzi and Wangji together. They are both deeply stubborn people. All we can do is wait. Fate has blessed them and bonded their souls together. I trust that Wangji will find his happiness.”

“Watching Wei- gongzi and Hanguang-jun together is infuriating,” Jingyi is Lan enough to not pout, but his displeasure is clear.

Zewu-jun hums softly, sympathizing with Jingyi. He has watched Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji dance around each other for two lifetimes now and is still watching. “We can wait at the entrance tomorrow for their return.”

Looking up in surprise, Jingyi asks, “Sect Leader is leaving his seclusion?”

“I am not in seclusion,” Xichen answers. “Only in mourning and taking time for advanced self-reflection.”

Jingyi still doesn’t really understand the difference. The purpose of seclusion is precisely for mourning and self-reflection, was it not?

In any case, Jingyi wasn’t about to argue semantics with his Sect Leader.

~~~

At the entrance to Cloud Recesses, Jingyi stands with Lan Xichen as they wait for Hanguang-jun to return with Wei Wuxian and Sizhui, and Uncle Wen Ning. Zewu-jun is only carrying Liebing. Shuoyue is nowhere to be seen, but the usual guards are only a few paces back in case anything unexpected were to happen.

They take up their posts in the late afternoon. Jingyi had proposed waiting in the morning, but Zewu-jun had predicted otherwise. “I suspect Wei- gongzi will want to explore the vendors in Caiyi and Wangji will allow Wei- gongzi such indulgences,” he had said, shooing Jingyi off to training.

Now, Jingyi has to admit that Zewu-jun was correct.

They have barely been waiting for ten minutes when they hear Wei Wuxian’s laughter drift through the trees. Moments later, Hanguang-jun appears first, making the last turn that leads the path directly into Cloud Recesses.

Zewu-jun gives Jingyi a look as Jingyi vibrates with excitement, but says nothing to admonish Jingyi’s restlessness. They watch as Lan Wangji leads Lil' Apple by the reins, Wei Wuxian sitting astride Lil' Apple’s back with Chenqing tucked into his belt. Sizhui and Wen Ning follow closely behind them, carrying baskets of assorted fresh fruits.

Perched precariously on Lil' Apple, Wei Wuxian raises a hand, waving vigorously at Xichen and Jingyi’s waiting figures.

Xichen simply smiles his welcome, but Jingyi waves back just as excitedly.

“So?” Jingyi asks, not even trying to minimize his excitement once they are all within Cloud Recesses’ wards again after they have exchanged the proper greetings and pleasantries.

At his side, Sizhui has already guessed what Jingyi is about to say and desperately shakes his head as vigorously as possible without attracting Wei Wuxian’s attention. Nothing escapes Hanguang-jun’s notice, and Lan Wangji briefly glances at Sizhui with amusement, but Sizhui knows Hanguang-jun won’t draw unnecessary attention to him. Shadowing Sizhui, Wen Ning simply smiles wryly, his wide eyes dancing as if there is a joke that only he is privy to. Lan Xichen simply stands there, lips curled into a resigned smile as he watches the scene unfold before him.

“So…?” Wei Wuxian echoes, confused, as he takes Hanguang-jun’s hand and allows Wangji to help him off Lil’ Apple’s back.

Jingyi does not notice how Wangji’s hand remains on Wei Wuxian’s back even after both his feet are planted firmly on the ground. Xichen, however, very much notices and gives Wangji a knowing look that says as such.

Wangji resolutely ignores his brother’s gaze. Instead, he refocuses his attention back onto Wei Wuxian.

“So have you finally confessed your undying love and devotion to each other!” All the advice Zewu-jun had given Jingyi about leaving Wanji and Wei Wuxian to their own devices has flown out the window as Jingyi says this so emphatically that it is no longer even a question.

Confused, Wei Wuxian turns to Wangji first. Jingyi doesn’t see any changes in Hanguang-jun’s expression but he must have reacted as Wei Wuxian nods and turns back to Jingyi.

“Of course we have,” Wei Wuxian says with an oddly anticipatory note to his voice. There is a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hanguang-jun is my husband.”

There is a brief pause as Jingyi processes Wei Wuxian’s words.

“ What?!” Jingyi shrieks. “ Husband?! ”

Somewhere in Cloud Recesses, during a fine afternoon tea with a Lan Sect Elder, Lan Qiren suddenly coughs up blood.

“Well we’ve already been engaged forever,” Wei Wuxian shrugs as if he hasn’t just distorted Jingyi’s entire world. “We didn’t want to wait any longer.”

Off to the side, Wen Ning is completely unsurprised by this revelation having witnessed their union with his own eyes, albeit from inside a bush. Sizhui was never told outright, but Wen Ning had hinted at Wangji and Wei Wuxian’s union just enough that Sizhui had extrapolated his own conclusions.

Jingyi swings around to look at Zewu-jun, the only one who is not betraying him at this moment by being the only other person who is surprised. While Xichen had already determined that Wangji and Wei Wuxian had confessed, Xichen hadn’t expected them to already be married .

“To be fair, I didn’t know we were engaged for most of it either,” Wei Wuxian continues nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just uprooted Jingyi’s entire world. His hand is clasped tightly in Hanguang-jun’s grasp as Wei Wuxian swings their entwined hands together back and forth between them. “Lan Zhan forgot to tell me.”

“I did not forget,” Lan Wangji hums thoughtfully as he looks at Wei Wuxian with the most adoring, love struck gaze Jingyi has ever seen. With his free hand, Lan Zhan reaches over to cover their entwined hands and relaxes Wei Wuxian’s fervent swinging. “Wei Ying was not ready.”

Wei Wuxian rests his head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. With an equally infatuated gaze, Wei Wuxian looks up at Hanguang-jun from his shoulder. “But I’m ready now. Lan Zhan, I’m so ready —“

Lan Xichen interrupts before Wei Wuxian’s smitten tone can turn outright salacious.

“Welcome back, Wei- gongzi , Wangji. I offer my blessings and congratulations to you both,” Zewu-jun says mildly, forcing the words out through his own shock. “May I ask when this union took place?”

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian look at each other again. Jingyi can’t decide whether he finds their ability to carry a conversation with only their eyes to be the height of romance or absolutely grating.

“A few minutes after we accidentally got engaged,” Wei Wuxian explains rather unhelpfully. “When he tied his ribbon around my wrist.”

“We completed the first bows before Lan Yi,” Hanguang-jun elaborates. This time, Jingyi notices when Hanguang-jun releases Wei- qianbei ’s hand so he can wrap his arm protectively around Wei- qianbei and pull him in close.

“Lan Yi?” Zewu-jun echoes. Hanguang-jun’s explanation clarified nothing for Jingyi, but Zewu-jun seems to understand. “Wangji, that was over two decades ago.”

“You’ve been married for twenty years!?” Jingyi snaps, no longer even trying to mediate his own surprise. Glancing back to the side, Sizhui and Wen Ning are doing their best to melt into the trees and be idle spectators.

Traitors , Jingyi thinks.

“Not exactly,” Wei Wuxian interrupts Jingyi’s thoughts. He is leaning into Hanguang-jun’s shoulder slightly, subconsciously. In any other circumstance, Jingyi would find this to be exceptionally romantic. “We didn’t get to the second set until after we saved everyone in the Burial Mounds, when we all went to Lotus Pier.”

“It took you twenty years to get married?” Jingyi is blurting out thoughts as they come, the shock of Hanguang-jun’s marriage having finally severed the already tenuous connection between his brain and his mouth.

“Lan Zhan and I like to take it slow,” Wei Wuxian says as if it is perfectly to space out wedding bows over two decades, across two lifetimes, without any ceremony, and without telling anyone.

Xichen speaks again. “When did you complete the final set?”

“Right after we left the Guanyin Temple.”

“But Sizhui and Uncle Wen Ning followed you right after you left,” Jingyi says, trying to map out a timeline.

“We finished our bows before they caught up.”

Wen Ning says nothing. At the time, he had briefly gone ahead to clear the path for Sizhui when he had happened upon and witnessed their bows to each other. No one else knew what he had seen and Wen Ning very much intended to keep it that way. It was a tender and very private moment, and it was fortunate that they returned to the road just as Sizhui caught up with Wen Ning.

“But you were lonely! And all that longing!” Jingyi tries to untangle his mess of thoughts, wondering if he spent too much time reading too much into Sizhui’s letters.

“Of course I was lonely!” Wangji’s grip on Wei Wuxian’s waist tightens. “I missed Lan Zhan! I have to leave my new husband behind!”

“Then why did you even leave?”

Wei Wuxian pauses, thinking about how to put into words how he felt. “I was ready to love Lan Zhan,” Wei- qianbei finally says, voice subdued. “But I wasn’t ready to be me.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You can’t devote yourself to someone fully without knowing who you are without that person,” Wei Wuxian says with uncharacteristic sincerity.

A silence falls upon them. Jingyi still isn’t sure whether this is real, or if he was having the weirdest dream.

No one notices Lil' Apple stealing an apple out of Sizhui’s basket.

“Wangji,” Xichen breaks the silence, “why did you not tell anyone?”

The hurt in his voice is resounding and Jingyi wonders the same thing. All these weeks, Zewu-jun has been quietly supportive of Jingyi’s misplaced attempts to bring Hanguang-jun and Wei- qianbei together, only to find out there was no need for any of it.

“It was...not intentional,” Lan Wangji says slowly, carefully parsing through his words. “Wei Ying and I did not wish to leave our feeling unacknowledged for any longer.”

“You did not even have a proper marriage ceremony,” Xichen says wistfully.

“The ceremony was never important to us, Zewu-jun,” Wei Wuxian answers quietly. “This entire mess happened because of cross-sect politics and interferences. So we wanted something for ourselves, something that couldn't be co-opted for sect politics.”

And despite everything his poor heart has gone through in that single afternoon, Jingyi’s heart melts because of course Hanguang-jun and Wei- qianbei wouldn’t tell anyone. Having each other was more than enough for them and wasn’t that just the pinnacle of love?

“Now, Lan Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian continues, teasing grin back on his face, “I heard you concocted a plan to lure me back into Cloud Recesses.” Jingyi makes an affronted squawk, but doesn’t get a chance to defend himself when Wei Wuxian continues. “Since you’ve already started on digging a pond, you can help me grow a lotus pond! A-Yuan has even been so kind as to bring back lotus seeds from the Burial Mounds. You’ll help me, won’t you Lan Jingyi?”

Jingyi’s head is spinning with all the newly gained information. And A-Yuan? Who is A-Yuan?

Later, Sizhui will sit down and explain his early history with Wei Wuxian as a Wen, and Jingyi will make the connection between Gusu Lan’s Lan Sizhui — Lan Yuan — and Wei Wuxian’s A-Yuan. But at the moment, Jingyi’s mind is swimming in all the newfound revelations.

Without waiting for Jingyi’s response, Wei Wuxian marches off toward the Jingshi. Lan Wangji follows at his side, his arm never letting go of his husband.

“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon behind the Jingshi, Jingyi!” Wei Wuxian calls back without turning around.

They leave Lil' Apple in Jingyi and Sizhui’s care, trusting that they will lead Lil' Apple to the back mountains to graze on grass with Hanguang-jun’s rabbits.

As he watches the figures of Hanguang-jun and Wei- qianbei disappear into Cloud Recesses, Jingyi genuinely cannot tell whether or not he is being punished. At least they’re finally together, Jingyi thinks, before resolving to never think about them so deeply ever again.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s relationship was simply too complicated for comprehension.

~~~

Some Notes: Jingyi’s weekly teas with Xichen continue anyway because Xichen thinks Jingyi is hilarious and Jingyi...still has plans.

A dan is a wooden pole that you set on your shoulder and is used to carry goods. It’s still used in rural China.

[satonthelotuspier]

Day 8 of Xichengclipse, and we’re done! It’s been a blast, six fics over eight chapters, 21.7k words, one emperor seduced, three feral youngsters ‘rescued’, a pregnancy and a second chance at love for a special jade bunny.

Thanks to all the mods and organisers, the readers/art fans and contibutors.

That being said here’s day 8. (This will be a fic I finish outside of the event, still a lot of story left here).

Part 1 and Part 2 are available at the links.

Lotuses Are Tenacious Plants - Part 3

As the bathwater was brought in Lan Xichen wondered if he should press Jiang Cheng on what he had seen on the way back to the Hanshi.

He didn’t know yet how truthful the young man from the Burial Mounds would be, how much value he placed on honesty. They were concepts that came naturally to a man like Lan Xichen, brought up by his clan to speak them as second nature, but he was aware that it wasn’t the case for everyone outside the walls of Cloud Recesses.

He had sent a short note of enquiry and warning to his Shufu and Lan Wangji both, about the intrusion, and to find out if Jiang Cheng’s spirit...friend?...had tripped any of their warnings when she entered.

His musings were interrupted by the realisation that the other was stripping himself bare in preparation for the bath that had just been drawn for him.

“Wait a moment,” Lan Xichen had procured some ointment from the sect physicians to help with the scratches and cuts on Jiang Cheng’s face and forearms, and he handed the jar over to the half-dressed young man, “use this on your scrapes after you bathe, it will help heal them.”

“Thank you.” It was automatic, like the other had had it drilled into him to be polite. Was that from his early childhood, or something that had been a part of their existence in the Burial Mounds?

He shook himself from the thought; there was so much he would like to know about Jiang Cheng and his siblings, and how they had survived in Yiling. But Jiang Cheng wouldn’t speak to him of anything so private until he trusted him. Even then it might be a subject he didn’t wish to talk of; Jiang Cheng struck him as uncommunicative of the things he considered personal, from what he had seen so far. “I’ll give you some privacy,” Lan Xichen folded his hands into his sleeves, and Jiang Cheng looked at him and shrugged, like the notion of privacy was unusual and unnecessary.

“Fine, but it’s not like I’m a girl. I haven’t got anything you haven’t seen before.”

He bent to begin to skim his patched pants down, and Lan Xichen hurried out of the Hanshi.

As he sat on the verandah outside attempting to meditate, a disciple brought him a stack of correspondence that he would have to deal with at some point, and handed him a note from Wangji, that also held a cinnabar drawn talisman.

His brother claimed there had been something that had registered breaching the wards, but that the tracking talisman that automatically attached itself to anything that passed the barrier had vanished.

Lan Xichen knew he would have to speak to Jiang Cheng about it; he thought his sect members would be safe, that the woman’s concern would be Jiang Cheng, that she would see he wasn’t in danger, and that she wouldn’t act without his say so, but if the other’s answers weren’t acceptable he would have to take action and deal with her. He wouldn’t put his disciples at risk.

Some time later he heard Jiang Cheng’s voice calling to him from inside the Hanshi, “Lan Xichen!”

He rose, and moved to the open doorway, “May I come in?”

“Yes, I need help,” there was a wealth of confusion and frustration in his voice, so Lan Xichen stepped inside.

The other looked up, his brown eyes stormy; a child on the verge of tantrum.

“What’s the matter, Jiang Cheng?” he automatically fell into using his older brother voice.

“I don’t know how these stupid things tie,” He held out his arms, pushed through the pure white robes of young Lan sect disciples.

“Here, let me show you.” Lan Xichen stepped forward, “May I?”

Jiang Cheng gestured with his arms again, which Lan Xichen took as permission.

He demonstrated which ribbons needed tying together, and how to layer the robes and sashes, Jiang Cheng watched him carefully, intelligent eyes taking in every move and storing it in the back of his mind. He wouldn’t need showing again.

Lan Xichen stepped back out of the other’s space as the last tie was made, and gestured, “And now you’re dressed.”

The other looked down at himself, and again held his arms out.

“It’s too hot,” he said eventually, then looked up at Lan Xichen, who was struck again by how very much like Yu-furen her son was, especially now, scrubbed clean with gleaming, fair skin, with only a trace of a deeper scratch on his jaw left of the wounds from before.

He was a handsome man, and better care, which Lan Xichen was going to ensure they all received, would only improve on that.

“It’s cold on the mountain in autumn, Jiang Cheng, you’ll be glad of the layers.”

The other sneered.

“I know, you lived in the Burial Mounds,” Lan Xichen supplied for him, and Jiang Cheng bared his teeth in response to the tease, although the effect was lessened by the frame of his loose hair.

The other had undone all his braids to wash it, and now it hung, mostly dry, around his shoulders, and softened the harsh lines of his face.

Lan Xichen had to stop a subconscious move to reach out and brush it behind his ear. The big brother in him, no doubt.

Jiang Cheng lowered his gaze again, and plucked at the sleeves of robes.

“How do you move in all this?” he demanded, and Lan Xichen pondered the question. Obviously he was used to it, you naturally learned to adjust and account for the flow of sleeves, the sweeping of hems, but it wasn’t something Jiang Cheng would have had to become used to.

“With practice,” he said, because it was the truth.

Jiang Cheng looked up again then, and there was an unusual expression of uncertainty in his eyes, “How should I tie up my hair?”

The question threw Lan Xichen, not least because it seemed very out of character for the younger man to be worrying about something so mundane for Lan Xichen.

“How would you like to? What about your braids?”

Jiang Cheng shook his head, “A-Jie said it helps keep our hair cleaner for longer, but it takes so long. And my arms would ache.”

Lan Xichen thought for a moment, then moved over to the mirror kept behind a screen, and beckoned to Jiang Cheng to come with him.

The other moved over and followed Lan Xichen’s gesture.

He turned, and startled. Then stepped closer. “A mirror,” he said, almost breathlessly. He examined himself, turning his face this way and that, “this is much clearer than a murky puddle,” he said, and Lan Xichen berated himself for being so careless as to spring it on Jiang Cheng like that. He hadn’t thought that the other might not have had access to simple things he took for granted, like mirrors, easy options to bathe, warm clothes, the list was endless.

He raised a finger to touch the scratch still visible on his jawline, “It would have been easier using the ointment if I’d known of the mirror.” he said it casually, without censure in his voice, just a fact.

“I’m sorry, I never thought,” Lan Xichen apologised, and Jiang Cheng’s fingers stilled, and he met his gaze in their reflections.

“Why would you?” then he was moving on to the next burning issue in his mind, “Show me how I should tie up my hair.”

They spent a while experimenting, and Lan Xichen had to find an ornament that met with the other’s approval (that being one that wasn’t automatically so pretty it had to be saved for A-Jie). Eventually the task was done, however. They had gone something simple that Jiang Cheng would have little trouble recreating.

Lan Xichen moved away.

It was nearly dinner time, but he thought it would be better to have their meal brought to the Hanshi. He didn’t think it was fair yet to put Jiang Cheng amongst such a crowd, considering he wasn’t used to other people yet. Therefore eating in the hall with the rest of the sect was out.

Perhaps he could arrange a small family meal with his Shufu and Wangji tomorrow, to help Jiang Cheng become more used to dealing with others. Lan Xichen was still the only person, outside of his small family unit from the Burial Mounds, who Jiang Cheng had been exposed to for anything but a passing glance.

“Do you trust me, Jiang Cheng?” he asked suddenly, and the other turned away from the mirror, where he had still been examining himself out of interest.

Jiang Cheng considered the question. “A little. I don’t think you want me dead. And I think you’re telling me the truth about the Wens.” He walked over to perch on the edge of the bed, still moving awkwardly in the Lan sect robes. “But I don’t know what you want from me, yet, or why you wouldn’t just leave us be at the Burial Mounds.”

Lan Xichen tilted his head and considered the other’s comment, “I went to search because there were rumours of necromancy that my sect wished to look into. Cultivators have a responsibility to keep normal people safe from the unnatural.”

“That would have been us. Protecting our home. With the unnatural.”

Lan Xichen realised he would have to tread cautiously, while he sympathised with their plight, and understood why they had turned to the methods they had, it was still a  power that was considered unnatural, immoral, and was reviled by wider society.

“I was there to investigate,” he repeated, keeping his voice light and devoid of any censure, “and I found the missing Jiang children. Of course I was going to bring you back to Cloud Recesses. You will recall you attacked me. You could have approached me to talk, but you attacked. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone like me. And you were living on the edge of starvation.”

“You were in my home, why would I not attack? We were fine. Surviving. Safe. The best thing you can do for us is to let us go back, seal that place to the world, and leave us be, we’ll hurt no one, and no one will hurt us.”

“You have a life waiting for you outside of the Burial Mounds. Identities, legacies, sect lands…”

“That left us behind years ago. I don’t know that life. I don’t know you. I know that place, and I know my A-Jie and Wei Wuxian.”

It was a low blow, but by now Lan Xichen knew what tile to play.

Do you really wish that life for your A-jie? The struggle, the having nothing, the living hand to mouth?”

An enraged flush ran up the other’s face at his words, and he leapt up from the bed. Lan Xichen prepared to receive his attack, but it didn’t get that far, as the other stumbled on the long hem of the robes he wasn’t used to.

There was a clear measure of time while they stared at each other, Jiang Cheng having caught himself on his hands and knees on the floor, and Lan Xichen staring down at him in surprise.

There was another period where the reaction could have gone any way, he swore he saw something like self-mockery flash in Jiang Cheng’s eyes, and his mouth twitched as if into a smile, but then his eyes fixed in the doorway behind Lan Xichen, and he let out an animal snarl, leaping into another attack.

Lan Xichen was guilty of reacting to the embryo of a smile on his face, and Jiang Cheng switched to the second emotion so quickly he wasn’t quite ready to follow the change, and was hit by the full force of a small, skinny, wild animal.

He was much stronger than the other, his clan’s training regimen, all those handstands, meant he was physically stronger than most cultivators of his level, never mind a malnourished boy who hadn’t even begun qi refining stage cultivation, but he was at a disadvantage, because he had to greatly temper his strength, as he didn’t wish to hurt Jiang Cheng, whereas the other was showing him no such mercy.

A glancing blow hit him in the jaw and made him see stars briefly.

It was a wild struggle; he no sooner caught one limb than another swung at him, and he felt the air move behind him. He threw himself to one side, just in time to avoid the swipe of clawed fingers from the red-clad evil spirit that had followed Jiang Cheng from the Burial Mounds, but that let Jiang Cheng swing at his throat again. He stepped back to avoid the blow, but felt his shoulders hit the wall. He had nowhere else to retreat to under the dual assault. If retreat was impossible, attack was the only other option; he had to apply some force of his own; he didn’t know whether Jiang Cheng’s intent was to kill, but if Lan Xichen didn’t fight back he was likely going to find out.

He formed a sword seal with his hand, and summoned Shuoyue from her scabbard, then pulled the talisman that had come with Wangji’s note about the barrier breach from his sleeve.

He caught Shuoyue’s hilt, infused the talisman with his qi, and sent it at the red-clad spirit. She froze, unable to move even a little as the talisman attached itself to her lush chest, a look of intense, bloodthirsty rage in her eyes was the only reaction she could make.

He would have stabbed with Shuoyue but Jiang Cheng threw himself at Lan Xichen one last time, both hands wrapping around the wrist of the hand that held his sword, pulling with all his might, a sound of distress escaping his lips.

“Please! Please don’t, Lan Xichen, it’s my fault, I was wrong. I made the mistake. Please don’t kill her.” All his weight was hanging from Lan Xichen’s raised arm.

“She’s a spirit. She’s already dead.” His voice was tight, annoyed, and Jiang Cheng looked up, dark eyes enormous, and incredibly full of fear for his companion, something he hadn’t allowed Lan Xichen to see in him before. “If I don’t deal with her, how am I to know you won’t attack me again the next time you don’t feel like keeping your promise?”

“Don’t hurt her, please. I know I was wrong. Punish me, not her. Tie me up, use your magic silencing spell of me again, I’ll submit to anything.”

“You mean, you promise?” Jiang Cheng’s head ducked, but there was nothing he could say. Jiang Cheng’s reaction was of a child caught out, he was only sorry because his gambit had failed and he’d been discovered.

“I know you won’t believe me again, but I did intend to keep my promise. I just-” his eyes darted to the spirit of the woman.

“Because you were presented with an opportunity, doesn’t make it acceptable to go against your word. We’re left in a quandary. How can I believe anything you say to me now?”

Jiang Cheng’s gaze returned to his, angry again, “I know,” he hissed, “that’s why I said you can tie me up.”

They both turned to the door as soft footsteps heralded an arrival.

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Wangji paused on the threshold, taking in the odd tableau before him.

“Wangji, please take this spirit to the Mingshi. Just for containment, at the moment.” Lan Xichen gave Jiang Cheng a hard look. The relief that washed over the other’s face was palpable.

“Die-er, her name is Die-er.” His voice was small, unusually meek.

Butterfly.

Lan Wangji nodded, and turned to the disciple accompanying him to deal with it. Die-er was taken away, and Lan Wangji moved into the Hanshi, catching hold of Jiang Cheng’s upper arm and pulling him away from Lan Xichen.

He hadn’t realised they were still frozen in their odd pose, Shuoyue poised and Jiang Cheng clinging on to him.

“Be careful with him, Wangji.”

“Xiongzhang, you’re hurt.” Lan Wangji’s voice was calm, flat, but there was a look of worry in his eyes, and Lan Xichen glanced down, blood seeped through his robes at the side. It looked like he hadn’t been as fast to dodge as he had thought when Die-er had sliced at him.

As if acknowledging the wound had given it power, his head suddenly spun alarmingly, and the world faded to black.

[curiosity-killed]

a bow for the bad decision: 26

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(on ao3)

Theirs is a quiet walk. Lan Sizhui carries himself with his usual cheerful serenity, but both the other Lans are subdued, strained. Lan Jingyi’s shoulders are as hunched as they can be without breaking his posture fully, and Lan Zhan has a pinched look to his eyes like he’s fending off a migraine. Wei Wuxian should apologize, he knows. He shouldn’t have gotten so drunk and he shouldn’t have started it and he shouldn’t have let Lan Zhan kiss him — but the apology catches in his throat and sticks. Lan Zhan probably doesn’t even remember it, and at least that might save him some face. How mortified would he be to find out he’d acted on impulse in a vulnerable moment? It’s one thing for him to have once had feelings for Wei Wuxian, for the boy he used to be, but now? Wei Wuxian can’t stand the thought of his rejection, of being passed over for his own ghost — or worse, Lan Zhan feeling some obligation, some duty to Wei Wuxian. It’s better if they just pretend it never happened. He turns his thoughts to the safer parts of the night instead.

“Lan Zhan, whatever happened with the other Wen prisoners? The ones Chifeng-zun and Jiang Cheng were relocating?” he asks. All Wen Ning and Wen Qing’s clan were burnt to ash in the flames of Wei Wuxian’s pride, but maybe there are distant cousins, maybe there’s some family they can still find. It’s the least he could possibly do, a pitiful apology. Lan Zhan looks somewhat pained, and after receiving a small nod, it’s Lan Sizhui who answers. “There are six Wen resettlement camps, Senior Mo,” he explains. “Two in Qinghe and Yunmeng each, and one in Gusu and Lanling. We passed the one in Gusu when we stayed near Moling.” Lan Jingyi huffs out a derisive noise. “Moling Su’s best boast is that they were chosen to manage a camp,” he scoffs. “As if they’ve done anything but whine for help when fights break out.” “Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui scolds. “Moling Su?” Wei Wuxian echoes, looking to Lan Zhan. It’s been a long time since Madam Yu forced them all to memorize the minor sects of each region, but the name doesn’t sound at all familiar. Lan Zhan’s expression has tightened, eyes narrowing in the start of anger rather than just pain. “Ah they are a smaller sect started after the war by a former outer disciple of the Lan sect, Senior Mo,” Lan Sizhui says. Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows shoot up. He glances sideways to find Lan Zhan’s lips thinned, taut disdain across his face. “What did he do to get kicked out?” he demands. After the burning of Cloud Recesses, the Lan sect had hardly been in a position to eject healthy cultivators. While they’d suffered fewer casualties than Yunmeng Jiang, more of the elderly and very young had survived than those of fighting age. “Su She made his choice during the war,” Lan Zhan says, heavy with finality. Frowning at him a moment, Wei Wuxian debates pressing for more before deciding to let it go. Lan Zhan has always hated gossip, but this seems more serious, more personal. “May I ask why you’re interested, Senior Mo?” Lan Sizhui asks. “Is it because of the Gh— erm Wen-qianbei?” “Is the Ghost General really going to lead all the Wens in a rebellion to take over the world?” Lan Jingyi blurts out. Wei Wuxian recoils. “Wen Ning?” he says. “Wen Ning is as gentle as can be. He’d never lead a rebellion. Where are you hearing such things?” Despite his earlier reticence, Lan Jingyi seems to have overcome his hangover in pursuit of this bizarre conspiracy. He glances only briefly at Lan Zhan before launching in. “There have been all those rebellions in resettlement camps and now that the Ghost General is back, people are saying how they’re going to start a new war,” he says. “That after being kept prisoner for so long, they’re going to revolt and get revenge.” “Lan Jingyi,” Lan Zhan reprimands. “Do not speak rashly.” Lan Jingyi shrinks in on himself, ducking his head.  “ “Sorry, Hanguang-jun,” he mumbles. Turning this information over, Wei Wuxian feels a jolt of alarm. If people think Wen Ning is leading some rebellion and he’s seen in Yunmeng Jiang robes, where Wen Qing is the sect leader’s wife— “Lan Zhan, has there been any trouble with Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing marrying?” he asks, urgent. “Anyone who opposed it?” Lan Zhan frowns slightly, looking at him as if he can’t quite follow the jumps Wei Wuxian’s made. “It was a private ceremony, I am told,” he says. “I heard of no objections.” “A private—?” Wei Wuxian recoils, briefly distracted. Jiang Cheng had a private wedding? Jiang Cheng? They’d spent hours as kids going over all the details for shijie’s wedding, but it wasn’t like they never talked about Jiang Cheng’s. As sect heir, he would have been expected to have a formal, political affair — doubly so as a young sect leader. Wei Wuxian can hardly picture him having some subdued ceremony. Tilting his head in question, Lan Zhan reaches out his hand, almost touches Wei Wuxian’s elbow before retreating. Always almost. Wei Wuxian swallows and shakes his head. “I’m not sure,” he says. ��I think there might be something else going on.” Worry wrinkles Lan Zhan’s brow, but he only gives a slight nod of acceptance. Wei Wuxian’s grateful for it, even as he tries to juggle each of the puzzles he finds in his lap for the rest of their walk. The dismembered corpse, his own resurrection, Lan Zhan’s insistent kiss, and now the Wens again. He’s uneasy with all these floating pieces, these unstrung beads rolling around in his mind. Somehow they must connect, but the strings tying them elude him. That night, when Lan Zhan has left to check the area around their camp, Wei Wuxian finds himself sitting alone across the fire from the Lan juniors. Fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve where it peeks out from under his bracer, he hesitates. After turning it over, trying to piece together Jin Ling’s comment and the haze-soft memory of the night before and those older memories, the ones a little faded by time and dying, he still doesn’t have an answer. So. Who better to ask than the upstanding disciples of Gusu Lan themselves? “So,” he says, leaning back on his hands, “what does your headband mean anyway?” Lan Jingyi’s eyes widen, eyebrows flying up so fast, Wei Wuxian wants to tease him about them escaping. Even in the fireglow, Wei Wuxian can see the way his whole face goes white before flushing, his fugitive eyebrows slamming down into a scowl that would impress even Jiang Cheng. “How dare you!” he snaps — and oh, that’s actual anger, not just indignation. “How can you treat Hanguang-jun so callously? After all he’s done for you and you—” “Jingyi!” Sizhui pleads, reaching out a hand. Wei Wuxian can’t move. He’s pinned by this child’s righteous anger. Zewu-jun’s words come back to him from another life, from the morning they left for Qinghe. His ribs are splitting backwards, a bone-and-blood butterfly splayed open over an aching cavity. “How can you be so thoughtless,” Lan Jingyi continues, raised up like he’s going to walk over and punch Wei Wuxian. “When he’s already lost his chosen one and now given you such an honor and you throw it away like—” Wei Wuxian is in an icy cave, bowing with a ribbon around his wrist. He is in the library listening to the tale of Lan An founding the sect with his beloved. Wei Wuxian is standing on a mountain of corpses and Lan Zhan is pleading with him and Wei Wuxian can only watch in horror as his own lips shape steel-sharp lies. “I would rather die—” He is on his feet, bolting, before he has thought of escape. Behind him, there’s a sudden cut off and muted noises of protest. He doesn’t listen. His feet carry him from the fire, past the last line of trees, to the edge of the creek. They stop and he is left holding himself together like the raw edges of a mortal wound. Closing his eyes, he forces himself to play out the memory once more, in meticulous detail. The shields, the lightning-scarred tree, the start of the end. The thrum of the Seal, all cruel delight as it climbed over him, hand over hooked hand. Lan Zhan begging. Jiang Cheng. The Seal. The end. He doesn’t feel like vomiting. He doesn’t feel like anything. He has been emptied, wrung out, pummeled by the currents of his own choosing. His heart is a bruise, a stab wound, the oily hollow where once was a golden core. If the night folded around him, pressed him down to his essence, he would crumple like paper beneath the weight of it. He sinks down, the knuckles of his thumbs pressed to his lips as he stares into nothing. “Senior Mo?” Lan Sizhui’s footsteps are quiet as he approaches, like someone approaching an injured animal, a fox caught in a snare. “Senior Mo, are you alright?” he asks. He stops at Wei Wuxian’s side and then crouches slowly, as if to put them on the same level or make himself less imposing. Good kid, Wei Wuxian wants to say. He flashes a smile instead. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he says, dropping to the grass as if sitting were intentional and not the result of the ground dropping out beneath his feet. “Did little Lan Jingyi have more to tell me?” Lan Sizhui sits more delicately, folding himself down and neatening his robes around him. He casts a glance back toward the fire, a worried pinch in his brow. “Um. I—I used the silencing spell on him,” he admits, a little sheepish. He lifts his gaze to Wei Wuxian and firms his voice. “He shouldn’t have said those things to you, Senior Mo. They were rash and unkind.” And true, though these little Lans surely can’t know. How many times has he hurt Lan Zhan? How many of those scars on his back are Wei Wuxian’s doing? “We both are…a little protective of Hanguang-jun,” Lan Sizhui explains after a moment. “He has been like a father and brother to me, and Jingyi has been my close friend since childhood. Hanguang-jun is more than capable, of course, but—” “Sometimes people forget there’s a Lan Zhan under all that Hanguang-jun?” Wei Wuxian suggests. Lan Sizhui’s brow furrows a moment in thought before he nods a little. For a moment, he fidgets with the edge of his white sleeve, running the embroidered hem between his fingers. “For as long as I can remember, Hanguang-jun has — has carried a sadness with him,” he says, carefully, like he’s not quite sure how to say it. “He doesn’t talk much about it, but when I was young, I asked and he said he lost someone dear to him. But he’s been so much happier with you around, and I think Jingyi worries that you might…” He trails off, brow wrinkled and hands knotted around his sleeve. Exhaling, Wei Wuxian feels an ancient weariness settle in his bones. “Might run off and hurt him?” he says. Lan Sizhui winces in apology, bless him, and Wei Wuxian waves it off. Leaning forward, he rests his arm over his knee. Silence settles around them, the creek a gentle melody in the night. “So you’re Lan Zhan’s ward, then?” he asks after a bit. Giving a firm nod, Lan Sizhui finally smiles a little. It’s small and reflexive, like the thought is enough to bring him contentment. “My parents passed away in the war,” he explains. “I had a very bad fever when I was young, so I don’t remember much from before, just — just flickers.” Wei Wuxian nods absently. He pictures Lan Zhan toting around a little kid for only a moment before he’s reminded of a-Yuan, of his little clinging hands, and he flinches away. “Hanguang-jun has always answered my questions about them,” Lan Sizhui continues, though he sounds absent, almost as if he’s thinking aloud. “I—I don’t want to disrespect my parents but I also— ah, I’m sorry, Senior Mo, I shouldn’t be bothering you with this.” He almost starts to bow, and Wei Wuxian laughs, reaching out a hand to tousle his neat hair. Lan Sizhui blinks up at him, a confused smile still pulling up his lips. “It’s alright, little Lan,” he says. “Sometimes you need to talk things out.” The smile softens into a breath of laughter, and Wei Wuxian grins before bringing his hand back to fiddle with his flute. “I lost my parents when I was young, too,” he says after a moment. “I don’t remember much, but I remember my mother telling me to remember what others do for you, not the things you do for others. Only when people don’t hold so much in their hearts will they be free.” The words have never had much of an image attached, only the sensation of warmth, a gentle hand. When he thinks of his mother, he thinks of laughter and a buoying joy bright in his chest, a flicker of black hair and pale robes. “Being grateful for the life you have isn’t disrespecting your parents,” he says firmly. He draws in a breath before going on, saying what he’d never been told as a kid. “And wanting to know about where you come from isn’t ungrateful to your Hanguang-jun. No matter what you learn, you’ll still be who you are.” Lan Sizhui looks up at him with those big brown eyes and for a moment, there is something so familiar, Wei Wuxian’s heart nearly seizes with it. Then, he smiles, and he looks like Lan Sizhui, not Wen Ning, not a child Wei Wuxian condemned to death in a bid to save. “Thank you, Senior Mo.” He pauses, a funny smile on his lips, before he shakes his head. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s really something familiar about you. Like I know I can trust you.” His heart gives a funny lurch at that, and Wei Wuxian brushes it off with a laugh as he stands and offers Lan Sizhui a hand. “Who knows,” he jokes, “maybe I’m your long-lost cousin.” They walk back to the fire together to find the tents already set up for the night. The silencing spell seems to have worn off Lan Jingyi or been removed, though he only casts a sullen look at Wei Wuxian and doesn’t speak before retreating into the juniors’ shared tent. Lan Zhan watches Wei Wuxian and Lan Sizhui approach with a searching look, almost like he’s trying to read something in their steps. Lan Sizhui salutes and turns to his tent, and Wei Wuxian grins a little at Lan Zhan as he opens their own tent to admit him. Like giankun pouches, the tent is larger on the inside, providing enough space for a sleeping area as well as a small desk on which Lan Zhan’s guqin now rests. The giankun pouches full of their mysterious friend are contained in a protective array outside the tent’s boundaries, a small precaution. “He’s a good kid, that Sizhui,” Wei Wuxian says. Pride and pleasure curl the corner of Lan Zhan’s lips just-so, his gaze dipping down as if to hide it. Fondness aches through Wei Wuxian’s chest, and he finds himself cataloguing this moment as if he can imprint it on his patchwork memory and never lose it. If he’s wrong, if this is all a misunderstanding, at least he’ll have this moment. Drawing in a breath, he tugs the dizi from his belt and spins it through his fingers as he turns toward the interior of the tent. It’s just tall enough to stand upright, barely high enough to keep Lan Zhan from brushing his head against the ceiling. “Hey, Lan Zhan,” he starts, twirling the dizi down to his smallest finger and then back toward his thumb, “there’s something I should tell you, I guess. Not that you have to do anything or even — I don’t expect anything, I mean, and I could be totally wrong but well.” He flicks the flute around the back of his hand, picks up the pace. “That time you came to Yiling, I really wanted to kiss you,” he says, and he can feel his cheeks flush hot even as his heart hammers in his chest. “And during the war, every time you were mad at me, I wanted — well, not just kissing. And probably back in the Gusu library, but I don’t think I really knew it yet. Um. Anyway, I just figured—” He waves his hand absently as he paces. He still can’t lift his gaze to look at Lan Zhan, just watches the flick-flick-flick of the flute in his hand. The more he says, the more he feels like an idiot. Why would Lan Zhan want him? After everything, after all Wei Wuxian has done — he was just drunk that night, lonely and sad for something lost. “I guess, I thought you should know maybe,” he says. “Not that you have to say anything or do — we can just pretend this never happened and—” “Wei Ying.” When did Lan Zhan get so close? His eyes are so intent, pupils wide, and his lips parted slightly. He reaches out, stills Wei Wuxian’s hand. “I also — wanted that. In Yiling. In the war. In Gusu.” He pauses, gaze flicking down to Wei Wuxian’s mouth as he wets his own bottom lip. He swallows. “Now.” Oh. Oh. Wei Wuxian stares, gapes, a moment before he surges forward, catches Lan Zhan’s collars in his hands. It’s better without wine, better to feel Lan Zhan’s hands clutch at his back, his lips part in a soft gasp against Wei Wuxian’s. Lan Zhan crowds close, presses to Wei Wuxian almost desperately, and Wei Wuxian drags him in, holds him tight. Lan Zhan wants him. Lan Zhan wants him, not just the boy he used to be, his equal on an orthodox road, but him, as he is now and through everything. The knowledge sends sparks curling through his veins, the golden surge of a butterfly talisman winging down to his toes and back up. He realizes he’s laughing only after he’s started, and Lan Zhan pulls away with a puzzled look. A smile tugs uncertainly at his lips. “Wei Ying?” he asks. “It’s good,” Wei Wuxian promises. “It’s really good.” He is suffused with it, giddy with shocked delight. He never thought— By the time he understood what he wanted, it was long past too late. He’d never hoped he would get another chance. He pulls Lan Zhan back in, and he goes willingly. He’s not sure if they’re actually any good at this — his first kiss was only a few days ago, after all — but it feels good. It feels right, to have Lan Zhan kissing away his laughter, to curl his hands back into Lan Zhan’s hair. They part, panting a little, and Lan Zhan rests their foreheads together. Wei Wuxian can’t stifle the smile pulling at his lips, all delight and a hint of smugness. He’s responsible for this, for Lan Zhan’s flushed cheeks and unsteady breath, for the way his careful composure has been unwound. Closing his eyes, Wei Wuxian breathes in sandalwood and warmth and holds a little tighter. “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, his thumb tip rubbing light over Wei Wuxian’s cheekbone. “Wei Ying.” There’s something helpless in his voice, and when Wei Wuxian opens his eyes, he finds tears in Lan Zhan’s. Alarm jolts through him, and he pulls back enough to take in his whole expression. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he soothes, brushing the tears away with a careful hand. “I’m here. I’m right here.” Lan Zhan manages a slight nod, and Wei Wuxian wraps his arms around him, pulls him close. He goes willingly, curling into Wei Wuxian as if he can hide in his shoulder, in the circle of his arms. Tightening his embrace, Wei Wuxian hooks his chin over Lan Zhan’s shoulder and swallows hard. “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, Lan Zhan. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Lan Zhan makes a soft noise into his neck, little more than a vibration. His hands clutch at Wei Wuxian’s back like he’ll disappear if he lets go, like this will all turn out to be a dream. “You’ve been carrying this for so long, haven’t you, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian says, his heart aching. He guides Lan Zhan’s face from his shoulder, and his heart hurts with the raw grief in his eyes. Oh, Lan Zhan. Wonder is a strange sensation amidst all the hurt, disbelief that someone like Lan Zhan should feel so much for him. He leans in, kisses the tears from his cheeks. “You’re not alone, Lan Zhan. I’m not going to leave you, I promise,” he says. “I’ll go back to Gusu with you or take you home to Lotus Pier or we can just wander for the rest of our lives, but I’ll be here, okay? They’ll have to drag me away.” There’s a wrinkle in Lan Zhan’s brow, and as he turns his face away, Wei Wuxian catches a tightening in his expression like pain or shame. He lifts his hand to Lan Zhan’s cheek and turns him gently back. “It’s alright,” he soothes. “It’s alright to cry, Lan Zhan. You don’t have to hide. You wouldn’t scold Sizhui for tears, would you?” He tilts Lan Zhan’s head down to press a kiss to his forehead, and he’s not as irritated by having to lean up as he has been before. It feels as if the world is settling once more, like the stitches are starting to sink in. He gives another gentle kiss to Lan Zhan’s lips before pulling back to check in. Lan Zhan’s eyes flutter open, and they’re still wet, but the cracks are starting to heal. “Wei Ying, there’s something—” “Hanguang-jun! Senior Mo! Help!” Raw panic floods the juniors’ voices, and Wei Wuxian barely has time to think before he’s snatching his dizi from the floor and bolting out the door. Lan Zhan follows close behind, his guqin in hand. Outside, white fabric flutters to the ground like ragged petals. The giankun pouches are tatters, the array broken from the inside out. Reassembled, the headless corpse lunges after the juniors in a roiling cloak of resentment. Wei Wuxian lifts the dizi to his lips and plays a short, shrill command. The corpse pauses, straining. Tendons stand out along its grey-green flesh, its torso twisting between the juniors and Wei Wuxian like it can’t decide which target it wants first. “Put out the fire! Scatter!” Wei Wuxian orders. “He’ll take whatever head he can, so stay out of reach. He can’t hear or see, but he’ll feel your qi or if you create a breeze, so go slowly.” The kids’ faces are bone-white in the moon shadows, but they give stiff nods and obey without complaint. A spark of spiritual energy from Lan Jingyi extinguishes the fire, and the corpse whips toward the bright flare of qi. Wei Wuxian plays a high, rattling trill suffused with enough resentful energy that Lan Zhan breathes in sharply at his side. Closing his eyes, Wei Wuxian draws in a breath and pulls. With most spirits or corpses, the song is part of the spell. It lures them in with promises — of revenge, of blood, of peace — and so they’re distracted from the resentment winding entrapments and commands around them. It’s more delicate work, more secure, and takes less of a toll on the caster. Their headless friend, however, isn’t so easily distracted. The song is only the vector now, the side effect of his intent. He unspools resentment into a fine black thread and loops it around each of the five segments, tugging the corpse in. The threads snap at the corpse lurches forward, shaking them off. Gritting his teeth, Wei Wuxian drags up thick cords of it, lets that scouring sand in, and forces it into hooks and barbs to dig into the corpse’s limbs. “Wei Ying?” He opens his eyes to flash a reassuring grin, but Lan Zhan tenses, breathing in sharply as his eyes widen just-so. Ah, right. It’s not like Wei Wuxian’s ever seen his own reflection doing this, but he remembers Jiang Cheng’s horrified looks, the whispers of cultivators recoiling from bloodred eyes. He turns back to the corpse, files down his senses till their fixed solely on this quarry. It’s full of resentment, more than Wen Ning even, and it swings its right hand in the same motion over and over: a clenched hand, raised high, slashing down. He wishes briefly for Chenqing, for the way her own resentment tugged on that already in beasts, but he doesn’t have time to think about it now. The resentment sinks in at last, starts siphoning some of the energy off the corpse, and Lan Zhan starts in on the harmony of suppression. The corpse bucks and writhes, its arm swinging out in ever more aggressive sweeps toward Lan Zhan’s stronger yang energy, and Wei Wuxian can feel the strain start building at his temples, the queasy ache of his lower dantian from the resentment he’s channeling. All at once, there’s the clear sound of a xiao. Its melody lilts and curls through the night, fitting neatly into Lan Zhan’s playing as if it were shaped to match it. Wei Wuxian breathes out a sigh of relief, shoulders easing as the three of them suppress and subdue the corpse. Lan Xichen’s face is drawn, pale, as the corpse finally sways and drops to its knees, hands limp at its sides. Lowering the dizi, Wei Wuxian watches him a moment. “Zewu-jun, do you know this corpse?” he asks.  He swallows, tight, and gives a short nod. His eyes don’t leave the headless body disassembled on the grass. “Mm. Then I do as well,” Wei Wuxian says, stepping carefully toward the seething remains of Chifeng-zun. “Xiongzhang?” Lan Zhan’s voice is gentle, his gaze worried as he turns to his brother. Lan Xichen gives a short shake of his head, as if breaking out of some trance, and then kneels to help place the pieces into new bags. His touch is gentle, almost reverent. Wei Wuxian’s stomach clenches at the motions. “Zewu-jun, Hanguang-jun has kept you informed of our travels, hasn’t he?” he asks. Lan Xichen gives a slight nod, still shaken, as he cinches shut the bag containing the left leg. He sets it down gently onto the grass, like the finest teacup or a newborn rabbit. “The person behind all this knows the secrets of the Qinghe Nie’s saber halls, is close to the Gusu Lan sect and has a…complicated relationship with Chifeng-zun,” Wei Wuxian says, as gently as he can. “I believe he may have something to do with the recent troubles in the Wen resettlement camps, as well.” “He wouldn’t do something like this,” Lan Xichen says, firm. “I saw — Back then, I saw Nie Mingjue suffer qi deviation before my own eyes. These recent events have all happened to you in the last month. During that time, he has been discussing matters with me each night.” Wei Wuxian pauses, fiddling with the dizi in his hands. He respects Lan Xichen, knows too keenly what cause the sect leader has to doubt him. He doesn’t want to press too hard, and yet— “What if he used a teleportation talisman?” he suggests. “No. He has shown no signs of cultivating such a technique, and besides, that takes a great deal of spiritual energy,” Lan Xichen refutes. “We night-hunted just a day ago and he was in perfect condition.” His voice is even and firm, but there’s a thread of something trembling through it, like fear or regret or grief. Part of Wei Wuxian twists a little with guilt, at exposing Lan Xichen so abruptly to the evidence of his friend’s gruesome butchery. “He may not have gone himself,” Lan Zhan points out. “Wangji, you believe you know Wei-gongzi and so you trust him. Likewise, I believe I know a-Yao and so I trust him,” Lan Xichen says, brittle, beseeching. “I have allowed you your judgment, can I not be permitted the same? Must my loyalty be so much cheaper than yours?” Lan Zhan’s eyes widen, and he takes a breath to speak, but Wei Wuxian reaches out, stills him with a touch to his wrist. Closing his eyes, Lan Xichen draws in a deep breath. “There is to be a discussion conference at Carp Tower concerning the Wen settlements,” he says, carefully even. “Perhaps if you two were to join me we could clarify the situation.” Dipping his head slightly, Lan Zhan relents. With his eyes downcast and chin tilted just-so, he looks almost shamed; across the broken body of Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen seems to ease a little from his bowstring tautness with the concession. His gaze scours Lan Zhan briefly, and when he speaks again, there’s almost a note of apology in his tone. “Jin-furen asked that I deliver this to you, as well,” he says, reaching into a sleeve. The letter he reveals is neatly folded on creamy paper, and Wei Wuxian sits up at the sight of it. Shijie? Lan Zhan takes the letter with a slight bow of thanks, and Wei Wuxian watches hungrily as it disappears into one sleeve. They gather the giankun pouches together and return to the original camp where Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi have restarted the fire. They look a little shaken, still, but relax at the sight of them. “Ah! Zewu-jun, you’re here!” Lan Jingyi bursts out even as he lowers into as deep a bow as Lan Sizhui. At the sight of them, Lan Xichen’s shoulders ease fully and his smile finally seems honest. “Jingyi, Sizhui,” he greets. “I hear you have been of great assistance to Hanguang-jun and Master Mo.” He settles in by the fire as the two juniors hurry to sit with him, Jingyi already scrambling to tell him of their adventures. For a moment, Wei Wuxian watches with a funny fondness. Would it have been like this with his own juniors, if things hadn’t gone so wrong? Would his shidis and shimeis have been in such a rush to impress him if he hadn’t turned his back on them? There’s a light touch at his elbow, and he looks up to see Lan Zhan nod toward their tent in question. Smiling, he takes the offer and follows Lan Zhan into the quiet. Setting his guqin down on the table, Lan Zhan pauses, the fingertips of one hand still resting against its wood. Candlelight casts soft shadows across his face, his hair hanging down enough to block most his expression. It doesn’t hide the tension of his shoulders. Swallowing, Wei Wuxian reaches out to brush his fingers against his arm. “I worried you, didn’t I,” he says. He’s not really expecting an answer, but the soft hitch in Lan Zhan’s breath is more than enough. Flattening his hand against his shoulder, Wei Wuxian uses that to draw Lan Zhan back in. It’s an echo of their earlier position, but there’s no heat here, just the steady comfort of holding each other and knowing they’re both alive, here, together. After a long moment, Lan Zhan takes a deep breath and lifts his head. “Would you like to read your sister’s letter?” he asks. Fear and excitement trickle through Wei Wuxian’s chest like water droplets between branches. He takes a deep breath before nodding. “Yeah. Yes,” he says. “You can play Clarity for me after, if you want.” There’s so much terrible fondness in Lan Zhan’s gaze at that, like he can see right through Wei Wuxian to all the soft, stumbling bits at his core. He doesn’t say anything, only folds down beside the table and draws Wei Wuxian along with him. It’s a short letter, but the sight of shijie’s handwriting is enough to nearly bring Wei Wuxian to tears. His heart seizes, an erratic pang. Lan Zhan holds the letter so that they can read it at the same time, with Wei Wuxian pressed up close to his side. Dear Lan Wangji, I hope you are well. I wish to thank you and your companion for assisting Jin Ling and Jin Mu during the Dafan Mountain Hunt. It would be my honor to invite both of you to Lotus Pier in appreciation. Warmly, Jiang Yanli Wei Wuxian reads it back over again before he breathes out something like a laugh, a little wet. Leaning his shoulder into Lan Zhan’s, he can’t help smiling as he looks up at him. “Hey Lan Zhan,” he says, “what do you think about visiting Yunmeng after all this? I never did get to show you around.” Lan Zhan smiles, slow and small in the curl of his lips and the warmth of his gaze, and Wei Wuxian thinks alright. Thinks I’m going home.

[victortortor]

jc/lwj fic snippets

this one was called ‘im just a housewife’ 

-- 

“North,” Lan Wangji says, “Near Qinghe.”

Jiang Cheng taps his finger on the table as he looks down at the map. “That’s not even remotely close. You really can’t let it go this one time?”

It’s a rhetorical question. Of course he won’t let it go. It’s not in Lan Wangji’s nature to forget about something just because someone asks.

He watches as Lan Wangji bows his head to this. Even though they both know that he’s going no matter what, they always have to go through this first— Lan Wangji will always come asking for permission.

“I’m not your keeper,” Jiang Cheng says, a feeling of deja vu washing over him. They’ve had this discussion very often. “You can come and go whenever you want.”

That’s not what Lan Wangji wants him to say. He keeps waiting.

“If you want to go, you should go,” Jiang Cheng says.

“...”

He clicks his tongue. “Lan Wangji, don’t make this difficult.”

He still doesn’t answer. 

Jiang Cheng frown turns even deeper, and even Lan Wangji’s unhappiness is beginning to show on his somber, handsome face. Neither of them like the situation.

“The request came from the north watchtower in Yunmeng Jiang’s territory,” Lan Wangji says. “But not to Qinghe Nie, or even Lanling Jin. If even such a faraway sect was called, then it must be important.”

Perhaps, but importance is relative. If no other sect has answered this plea, then it must be so incredibly unimportant that none were willing to take care of it. Jiang Cheng certainly won’t be sending anyone to resolve this issue. But Lan Wangji is the type of cultivator that puts no interest in scale of calamity. He’ll go wherever he’s called.

It’s easier for Jiang Cheng to deflect, or say go if you want. That way, it’s still Lan Wangji’s choice. He has to make the decision. But Lan Wangji never accepts it when he says that. He always makes it Jiang Cheng’s choice, and they both already know what he’s going to say in the end.

If you leave now, you won’t be back in time.  I’ll send someone else. Just stay this once.

He says, “You can go.”

“But tomorrow,” he adds quickly. “It’s already evening. You’ll have to stay the night.”

—

They eat a meal together in relative silence. Jiang Cheng sends the attendants away, and Lan Wangji quickly gets up to sit beside him, so that their shoulders brush and their knees bump once. They’re both squeezed right in front of one small, square table meant for one person.

“Use your own table,” Jiang Cheng says, annoyed. “Do you want to share a bowl or something? If you have to sit right there, just bring it over with you.”

“Alright.”

Sitting facing one another is ideal when one wishes to have a conversation. It’s easier to see each other’s faces. But Lan Wangji dislikes small talk, and Jiang Cheng just isn’t very good at it. So it’s fine if they sit like that, close enough that they’ll brush past each other.

The food is good.

Before nine, they take a small stroll through Yunmeng. The town is bustling; everyone preparing for an upcoming Mid-Autumn Festival. The mood is light, cheerful. The Yunmeng Jiang disciples are fooling about in the streets and making a nuisance of themselves, yet Jiang Cheng doesn’t even have the heart to tell them off.

Lan Wangji sees it, too. He begins to call for their attention, but Jiang Cheng grabs him by the arm. “Don’t.”

“... Why not?”

Jiang Cheng ignores the question. His hand slips downwards, from Lan Wangji’s bicep to his hand, and walks on, dragging the other man behind him.

They walk along the near side of the lake perimeter, where fishing boats line the dock and lanterns bob up and down in the water. They take their time.

“You think I’m upset,” He says waspishly, after a moment. “I’m not.”

Lan Wangji squeezes his hand.

“I said you could go, so you should go without regrets. You’ve been frowning the entire evening. Don’t look so unhappy all the time.”

“Mm.”

Of course, it’s not like Jiang Cheng is unbothered by it either. But Lan Wangji doesn’t point it out, because he’s kind in that way. All that would that would do is cause irritation.

“They haven’t put up much of the  yet, but it’s close enough,” Jiang Cheng says. “You kept your promise, alright? I’ll accept this.”

“Mm.”

Their evening ends like this: they slip into bed together, somewhere between pleased and unhappy and warm— it’s no longer summer, and the nights are cool enough for them to lay a bit closer.

“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Wangji whispers.

“What?” 

“Sorry.”

Jiang Cheng pats his shoulder in the dark and replies gruffly, “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

—

(\\uh flashback begins i guess)

While the husband heads off, the wife stays behind. She manages the home and the children, and waits for her husband to return to her.

More than three years before this, Lan Wangji is to leave again, and Jiang Cheng has this particular though cross his mind. Leading a sect is nothing like managing a household, but still he blurts out, “I’ll come with you.”

Lan Wangji turns to him in surprise, and he forges on, “You said it was close to Gusu? I needed to see your brother anyway.”

In truth, he was going to go in about a month, but Lan Wangji doesn’t need to know that. When he fails to respond, Jiang Cheng arches a brow and says pointedly, “Unless you’d prefer to go alone, then I’ll find some other time.”

“Please.” Lan Wangji walks up to him and grabs him. He hugs him, and perhaps that’s the first indication that he’s as unhappy with this development as Jiang Cheng.

It’s three years ago, see, and they’re new to this. Still in the process of trying to explain oneself to the other, but Jiang Cheng is beginning to note that it just won’t work with them— they’re both incapable of explaining their thoughts clearly.

The only solution is to simply let their actions talk for them. Lan Wangji is very good at this step.

Jiang Cheng brushes him away carefully after an appropriate amount of time. “When were you planning on departing?”

“Tonight.”

“That works for me.”

Despite being brushed off, Lan Wangji leans forward again and takes his hand. He doesn’t seem to inclined to let go anytime soon. Clingy. He must be happy.

Jiang Cheng hadn’t realized it mattered to much to him.

They leave that evening quietly, without much fanfare. 

—

Lan Wangji is the sort of person that leaves no traces where he walks, quite literally. Traveling by sword becomes monotonous, eventually. They both take a moment to travel on foot— to which Jiang Cheng notices that even Lan Wangji’s footprints seem light, like they’ll fade in minutes, or at the slightest blow of the wind. There’s not a trace of dirt on his boots.

There’s no visible dirt on Jiang Cheng’s either, but that’s just because his boots are a far more sensible color.

“Is there something wrong?” Lan Wangji asks when Jiang Cheng spends too long staring down.

“No,” he responds brusquely while looking up. “Nothing.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t seem to believe him, tilting his head inquisitively. He reaches out to pat Jiang Cheng on the cheek.

“What are you doing.” It’s more of a statement than a question.

Instead of answering properly, Lan Wangji brings up both his hands and pulls Jiang Cheng’s lips up with his thumbs. He holds the position for a bit, looking at him

“Of course,”

(\\ i dont remember what they were doing here probably like bridal carry on a sword like a real couple but unfortunately jiang cheng is allergic to pda)

It’s absolutely juvenile. He feels like a youth fooling around, and he makes it clear to Lan Wangji. “This is ridiculous,” he says through gritted teeth.

Lan Wangji states, “You don’t like it.”

“Obviously. I feel silly,” Jiang Cheng says. “Put me down, we’re not doing this.”

Lan Wangji gently lowers him back onto the ground, and Jiang Cheng grimaces when he looks a bit crestfallen. Perhaps he’s made things awkward, by protesting. 

(\\ flashback finale, they found the bad guy and tricked him through a lot of self-indulgent disguising themselves as each other aka. the wearing your s/o’s clothes trope)

“You— you aren’t Lan Wangji!”

“Should I congratulate you for having eyes?” Jiang Cheng snaps, and pulls out Bichen. 

(\\bad guy should say “if ur not lwj who are you???!!!

(\\ and i have no idea what led up to this but jc is somehow so pissed he ends up saying “im his fucking wife!!)

(\\ i think jcs being like “time to torture him lol”)

Jiang Cheng says very evenly, “Go wait outside.”

“No.”

“Lan Wangji,” he warns, “You won’t like it. You should wait outside.”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “I’ll stay.”

(\\ uuuh idk just wanted him to say “would you like for me to step on you”)

“You?” Jiang Cheng sneers. “And who could you possibly be? If you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re no one. You’ll never be anyone. You’re trash at my feet. Why should I pay you any mind?”

The man sobs as he screams, “I made you! I was the one! I made you bleed! I wanted it, and it happened!”

“And what would you like next, for me to step on you?”

(\\end flashback)

In the morning, they wake. It is not yet dawn, and Jiang Cheng is roused by Lan Wangji moving the covers.

He pulls himself upright. His back is stiff; he fell asleep in an odd position. While he arches and stretches wearily, Lan Wangji dresses himself, then hands Jiang Cheng’s own neatly folded outer robes over.

“Thanks,” he mutters as he hurriedly puts it on, moving on to tying up his hair, only for Lan Wangji to carefully remove his hands from their work, and taking it for himself.

The first time Lan Wangji had done this, Jiang Cheng had snapped at him to leave it alone. He really doesn’t need someone to tie his hair for him. Now he doesn’t even bother to complain. Still, it doesn’t stop him from attempting to braid it himself first.

Another meal. It similar to the one from the night before. And as soon as it is over, Lan Wangji will go.

Jiang Cheng takes him to entrance of the Lotus Pier, then gestures outwards. “Go on. I’ll see you in a week.”

Lan Wangji turns to him, carefully watching him. He could say, I’ll miss you. He could apologize. Neither of those things will be accepted by Jiang Cheng, so nothing is said. But still, he pauses, as if feeling that “nothing” will not suffice.

“Lan Wangji, are you a cultivator or not?” Jiang Cheng demands. “Go off and do what you need to do.”

Lan Wangji visibly hesitates once more, and he almost smacks him. So ridiculous! It’s not a big deal, what’s wrong with him?

Instead of smacking him though, he fixes up Lan Wangji’s already neat appearance. Smoothing out his smooth hair, untwisting his untwisted forehead ribbon, un-creasing his un-creased clothes.

“Don’t be such a fool,” he says, a bit softer than he intends. “I’ll still be here when you get back.”

—

Jin Ling arrives a few hours after Lan Wangji’s departure, ready to spend the Mid-Autumn Festival in Yunmeng. He finds his uncle working through a pile of papers, and upon looking around he says, “Uncle, I’m here. Where’s Hanguang-jun?”

“He left,” Jiang Cheng replies shortly. “The Qinghe Nie Sect is slacking off, as usual. He went off to go resolve some incident with a yao there.”

Jin Ling opens his mouth to protest, But that’s so far away! He’ll miss— but surely his uncle already knows. He thinks on it for a moment, trying to find something to say. “... You went night-hunting with Hanguang-jun before, right? Why don’t you go again?”

“Do you think I’m so free that I can just flounce off to wherever I want like him?” Jiang Cheng retorts. The fact that he’s still working even now is only further testament.

Jin Ling knows him too well to miss the wistful undertone, so he says cautiously, “Then… why won’t Hanguang-jun just stay here?” With you? “Half of the things he goes off to eradicate, they’re not even a big deal.”

Jiang Cheng looks up sharply from whatever report he’s been given to sign, and Jin Ling ducks his head and fiddles with nothing. They both know he’s thinking about what a family should be— a mother, father, maybe a child, living together, happily.

However, that doesn’t even remotely resemble the life Jiang Cheng has.

“If he’s happy not settling down in a single place,” he says, “Then it’s fine that he should do that.”

“But—” Jin Ling cuts himself off when Jiang Cheng glares at him.

“He’s the sort of person who hates sitting still when there’s still more he can do,” he says with finality. “If I really told him to stay, he’d be unsatisfied.”

Lan Wangji will always go wherever he needs to go. He’ll always do what he thinks is right. Jiang Cheng can respect that.

Perhaps he even loves him for it.

-- 

when i say rereading fma made me write this it wont make much sense (i wanted jiang cheng to be the unholy combination of izumi curtis and winry rockbell) but anyway welcome to zhancheng hell

[101percentindia]

My Pursuit Of The Ancient Malana Culture Resulted In Learning A Greater Lesson

Why I regret my trip to Malana, and maybe you should too.

I was roughly woken up one morning by three of my closest friends. With excitement in their bloodshot eyes, in a rush of a breath, they said one word: Malana.

Malana, or what I knew of it then, was a small village in the Parvati valley whose mere mention could get stoners worldwide frothing at the mouth. The high altitude and untouched soil was said to produce some of the best hash in the whole world. My friends wanted to go for obvious reasons but I smoked neither weed nor hash (I promise, ma). Making a trip all the way to this tiny village just for drugs made me very apprehensive. I shook my head wildly, refusing flat out. At first. But my friends, being my friends, knew just how to convince me. "Why not?" they prodded "You're always looking to write about something exciting. Well, here it is. The whole village is cut off from the rest of India and is visited only by tourists. Oh, and the villagers are said to be descendants of Alexander the Great and his army during their campaign in India."

I perked up. The few articles I found online echoed their words and cinched my interest in Malana. A day later, I sheepishly approached my friends and let them know I had changed my mind.

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The long and winding road to Malana

We set out for Malana by hiring a local taxi from the foothills of Jari. Our driver Kumar was a chatty old local man, with a bright smile and a great tolerance for my constant stream of questions. He had lived his entire life in the region and made his income by driving tourists between Jari, Manali, Kasol, Malana and other nearby hippie hotspots. Along the dusty, bumpy path cut out of the mountain, we ascended into the clouds.

The car would only take us only so far; we would need to trek the remainder of the way up to the village. Although the month of July meant most of India basked in warm sunshine, there in Parvati valley, in the cold winds and relentless drizzle, we shivered through our multiple sweaters. Seeing how we clearly had no idea what we were in for, Kumar agreed to guide us all the way into Malana. Just before we began the trek, he grabbed an empty water bottle from his car. "For the spring near Malana. The purest, most sacred water! It will cure any cancer!" Politely nodding, I swallowed my cynicism and continued with the trek.

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The charging stream that locals consider sacred

Rock after rock, we heaved ourselves up, taking in the jaw dropping scenery in the moments we spent waiting for the last of us to catch up. Layer upon layer of green mountains as far as the eye could see. In the drizzle, everything around us had a sheen. A sweet, earthy aroma drifted in the breeze. All around us, long-stemmed Marijuana plants danced.

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Cannabis grows naturally and wildly in Malana. Image source: 365hops.com

Kumar told us about the people of Malana, a group isolated from the rest of India not merely by altitude but also culturally and linguistically. Malana was considered one of the oldest democracies in the world. "So disputes and disagreements are not sorted out by the regular Indian judicial system?" I asked. "No, all matters are resolved internally. They very rarely seek help from the outside world." "What about the difficult matters of guilt and innocence? Who decides that?"

"Goats" he answered simply.

"Goats?"

"Yes, the two arguing parties each bring forward a goat. Both the goats are poisoned. The goat that dies first belongs to the guilty party."

This answer bewildered me. To play dice when it came to justice? "What about incredibly heinous crimes? What is the equivalent of a life sentence?" I asked. Kumar thought carefully. "I haven't heard of such cases recently. But I remember rumors that they just strap the person onto a rock and push them off the mountain."

I shuddered and made a mental note not to offend the villagers even in the slightest way. We had now trekked high enough to see the village of Malana rising before us. A clump of houses grew visible through the mist in the distance.

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Malana women wearing their traditional costumes. Image source: corneredzone.com

Ahead of us, Kumar turned around and said solemnly "I would advise that you don't talk directly to the people. Nor should you ever touch them." "Alright, we won’t. But why not?" "It is condemned for them to make contact with outsiders. Any kind of outsiders." With this information, we hauled ourselves up the last stretch of the trek.

A young boy about 7 or 8 years old, peered at us between thickets of trees on our left. He let out a shrill whistle and darted swiftly towards the village. Soon, we spotted a few more. Like the first, they whistled and ran back into the village. "They are signaling that foreigners have arrived." Kumar explained. It was a strange moment, to be considered a foreigner in my own country.

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The village of Malana in the background. Image source: fountainink.in

The entire village of Malana could be covered by foot in less than an hour. The houses were built low, with shingled roofs and carved out wooden structures. The population was no more than 4500. Many of the structures we walked past were forbidden from being touched by outsiders like us. Kumar, true to his role as a guide, pointed out the significance of different buildings we crossed.

"That, there, is the school" he pointed to a square concrete structure with a yard lush with cannabis plants. "I wish I studied there", my friend joked. Children chased each other in the yard, indifferent to my stoner friends salivating over the marijuana. "That building is the temple where they worship" Kumar motioned at a grand wooden structure. "Which God do they worship? Is their religion a sect of Hinduism?" "No" replied Kumar. "They worship their own deity, Jamlu. He is only worshipped here in Malana and communicates with them through a chosen oracle." What fascinating information I thought to myself. Even in a land isolated from the rest of the country, and even without the influence of religious norms practised elsewhere, they had their own deity and religion. A fire in 2008 wiped out many structures in Malana, however Lord Jamlu’s temple still remains.

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A fire in 2008 wiped out many structures in Malana, however Lord Jamlu’s temple still remains. Image source: travelseewrite.com

It had started to rain heavily. Shivering through our wet sweaters and jackets, we took shelter under a small shack at the edge of the mountain. A tall, thin man with an unsmiling face approached Kumar. After a brief conversation, Kumar turned to us and said "He wanted to know who you are and what you want. I said you are here to visit. He wants to know if you would like to buy hash from him." We looked at each other uncertainly. "Uh. Sure. Uh, yes. Yes, please." The ganja man (I call him this because that is who he was to us; he gave us ganja and nothing more, not even his name) looked around shiftily as we completed the transaction. On the side, Kumar explained that not everyone in the village was allowed to sell hash to tourists and they could face trouble from the other villagers if they were caught. Perhaps this was to regulate the sale of Malana cream and ensure prices aren't decided by naive bargaining.

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It is not taboo for children to join in making hashish. Image source: fountainink.in

Although we were outsiders, ganja man still extended his hospitality towards us. Still unsmiling, he asked us (through Kumar) if we cared for some pakodas. With our muscles aching and our bellies rumbling, we nodded eagerly. There, amidst the mist and the mountains, we ravenously ate piping hot pakodas from a paper plate, served with a helping of what was, and still is, the most delicious chutney I have ever had. "This is incredible!" I gushed. "That chutney is made from the seeds and leaves of the cannabis plant," he told me.

While we ate, the ganja man took out a long OCB and casually rolled a joint with one hand, with an ease that most people only have while tying their shoelaces. With a flick of his tongue along the paper and another flick of a match, it was lit. It was hard to keep the wonder and awe off our faces as we stole glances at him, this wonderful, mysterious man who so lazily blew smoke rings into the still air. Half way through the joint, he passed it our way. Like the smoke, my thoughts swirled, branched out and broke away at their edges. I lost all concept of time. For what could have been eternity, I found myself at absolute peace, lost in the drifting clouds.

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The cannabis crop is the main source of income for the Malana people. Image source: moonpeak.files.wordpress.com

When the haze of the hash had passed, I walked around, observing the mountains of Malana. I came across a mountainside where all the plants were hacked down to the earth. The destruction lay ugly and in plain view. It was a heartbreaking sight. I asked Kumar and the ganja man about this. "Of course," said ganja man to Kumar with bitterness in his voice "Nobody knows anything about Malana except Malana hash! Governments have been fighting for the destruction of these crops as they see it destroying culture. Even the US government has asked us to stop production. They have offered to compensate for the money we will lose from profits."

Looking at history, the people of Malana used to legally cultivate and sell cannabis and its products until 1985, when heavy international pressure pushed the Indian government to pass the drug law. Under this law, marijuana became an illegal substance, the possession of which could result in an imprisonment sentence of more than 10 years. Even today in the valley, police wield machetes and execute orders to hack all the marijuana plants that are within their physical capability. All in order to dissuade the locals from cultivating the crop. However, the main profits and source of income for the village is the thriving cultivation of cannabis. The harsh weather and geological conditions make it difficult for the people of Malana to grow any other cash crop. Without this, they have little to turn to.

More signs of influence from the outside world showed up as we walked. Decades of exposure to tourists and external food supplies led to the sight of a long river of empty packets of Lays, Kurkure, Dark Magic, Coca Cola that lay crushed in the black slushy water of what once used to be a clear stream. I asked Kumar if this water also cures cancer. Kumar laughed. There was no effective way of disposing or recycling non-biodegradable materials. What we were seeing was years and years of accumulated rubbish, most of which was consumed not by tourists but by the youth of the village. As we walked, I noticed a mother yank her child away from our path. With continuous exposure to the fast life through tourists, children are enchanted by the perceived glamour of the outside world. It has become a struggle to pass on their rich culture to the younger generation. Whereas once only handloom was worn by all the people of Malana, today the youth of Malana can be spotted wearing jeans, much to the elder's chagrin.

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A river of junk. Image source: yespahari.in

The fame generated from the marvellous Malana cream is a double-edged sword. On one hand it creates the demand for hash that helps sustain the village when nothing else can. But on the other, it subjects them to relentless streams of tourists and hippies that clamour up their hills to claim their off beat experience. My initial gusto to write an inspirational travel piece had gone. In its place was a heavy sadness and shame. I abandoned all ideas to write the article I had planned. The less people feel like coming to this place, the better.

This July, Lord Jamlu spoke to the villagers of Malana through an oracle. Lord Jamlu it seems, was displeased by the corruption of the traditional way of Malana life and culture. By his decree, all villagers must shut down restaurants and guesthouses (which have increased exponentially over the last few years, most being leased to outsiders) lest they want to face Lord Jamlu's wrath. The villagers are in agreement and Malana is now declared off-limits to tourists.

While my trip to Malana was an amazing once-in-a-lifetime experience (well, more so now because of the ban), seeing how just a few visits could help corrupt a rich untouched culture made me regret the trip.

What most people don't realise (including myself when I visited Malana) is the effect of our presence in lands that were previously isolated. In Malana, it is the slow death of their culture in front of their eyes when they allow us in. It is the river of plastic that snakes behind their houses and grows larger and larger until one day the whole village may drown in it. It is the petrified mothers who cling to their children with their gaze averted upon sighting us. It is the reduction of their existence to merely our touristic experience.

Today, the people of Malana have collectively agreed they no longer want tourism to infiltrate their sacred culture. Yet even with this knowledge, you will still find sulking tourists, annoyed that Lord Jamlu has taken away their God-given right to take selfies with the villagers. #travellers #blessed

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Perhaps now, the people of Malana can cultivate their culture peacefully. Image source: fountainink.in

This clown-show is the reality of what tourism most often is. People rush to buy flight tickets and new clothes and bikinis, and in their excitement always forget to bring along sensitivity. Throngs of entitled people barge into new territories and pristine nature with their shiny new cameras and packets of chips trailing behind (in case you ever get lost, just follow the trail of crushed chips packets. It will take you back to where you belong).

Perhaps now the people of Malana can cultivate their culture peacefully without our intrusion. Perhaps now their culture will not be a trade off for their livelihood. There is no denying that we can learn a great deal by studying indigenous cultures and tribes, but it is imperative to ask ourselves - at what cost did we gain our experience? And who is paying the price?

Note to all the weeping stoners: While Lord Jamlu has forbidden guesthouses from continuing in Malana, there has been no ban on the villagers leaving the village to sell hash for their livelihood. So don't be too dejected. From the information gleaned, this does not seem to be the end of Malana cream for the rest of the world. Just the end of blatant tourism in Malana.

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Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are independent views solely of the author(s) expressed in their private capacity and do not in any way represent or reflect the views of 101India.com

By Rebecca George Photographs by Rebecca George

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

A Crash Course on: The Old Testament

    The Old Testament of the Bible is quite possibly one of my favorite set of ancient scriptures – ripe with ancient mythology, symbolism, and inspiration for fantasy writers everywhere.

    I took a Biblical Studies course in my Catholic high school and it was probably one of the Top 3 classes I ever took in my entire educational career. My teacher (we all called him Doc) was the best in the business, being that he himself was going to become a priest. But he was always so chill with us and humorous, never raising his voice for anything. He didn’t need to though – we wanted him to teach.

    Anyway.

    The Old Testament is comprised of 46 books. They are, in order:

  Genesis, Exodus , Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1&2 Samuel, 1&2 KIngs, 1&2 Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Tobit, Judith, Esther, 1&2 Maccabees, Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs, Wisdom, Sirach,Isaiah, Jeremiah, Lamentations, Baruch, Ezekiel, Daniel, Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah and last but not least Malachi

Collect them all now for a low-price of $25.99!    This list can change though for different sects. For example, when Martin Luther began Protestantism he rejected 7 books as canon - Tobit, Judith, Wisdom, Sirach, Baruch, 1 & 2 Maccabees. Basically, Christianity is so fractured into different sects they are like wildly different fan groups of the same fandom arguing about which character romance is canon.

    Just like we have our fandom canons of our favorite character relationships, every religion has its own canons. This is how different sects (and ultimately different religions) form – Protestant, Catholicism, Methodist, Mormon, Baptist, Anabaptist – all of these are like different canons for the same fandom.

     You may have heard of things like “The Council of Nicea” and the council of this and that and so forth. Those councils were basically priests and other clergymen coming together and saying, “Okay, what’s canon?” The actual Hebrew scriptures are different in the literal translation from the Bible you might have lying around somewhere gathering dust. For one example, the literal translation of Genesis suggests that there were more gods – not simply one God.

    These ancient words are believed to have been lingering for ages before they were written down. One can find parallels to old Babylonian mythology (The Great Flood), suggesting a long line of oral tradition before the Hebrew scriptures were written down at around 1,000 BCE.

    We’re first going to talk about the Pentateuch (Greek for Torah, which is the Hebrew word for “teaching”). This includes the first five books of the Old Testament (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy). They are generally the most important in the Old Testament because they narrate the events from the beginning of the universe to the moment Moses leads his people to the Promised Land and dies. The importance is the carrying on of the covenant God gave to his chosen people beginning with Abraham. In short, Christians believe that covenant was finally fulfilled with Jesus Christ. Jews still hold to that covenant that was last tied to Moses.

    Up until the 19th Century, people assumed the Torah was written by Moses – it only seemed fitting. But then there’s the blatant fact that Moses actually dies by the end, and it fucking reads  “And so Moses died."  So scholars began to wonder. It’s like those stupid movies where the main character narrates but dies anyway at the end. So how could they be narrating?

LIke that movie Looper.

    Whoops, guess I ruined THAT for you.   

Scholars scrutinized the Old Testament and actually found something very fucking interesting: There are 4 different writers. You can sort of figure this out on your own by reading your modern Bible over and over if you have literally NOTHING ELSE TO DO.

There are two different versions of stories throughout the Torah. There are two different creation stories in Genesis 1 and Genesis 2-3. Two different accounts of how Abraham sends out Hagar with her son Ishmael to the desert in Genesis 16 and 21. Two different accounts on how many pairs of animals Noah takes to the Ark in Genesis 7:2 versus 7:9 and 15.

Scholars found these and MANY more inconsistencies within the Torah.    

So, they decided to separate them and realized the writing style was unique among 4 different sources.

They named them as the following:    

The Yahwist Source (J) – God is named Yahweh. He’s a much more personal God walking and talking with us. J stands for Jahve, the German word for Yahweh. Because Germans are annoyingly scholarly and can tell the world what to name things.

  The Elohist Source (E) - God is named Elohim. He speaks to us in dreams and there is emphasis on prophecy, one should fear him.   

The Priestly Source (P) – God is also called Elohim. Worshiping him on a somewhat cultist approach. Stresses on obeying law. Likes to list things.

  The Deuteronomist (D) – Within the Torah, unique only to the Book of Deuteronomy. God is called Yahweh. Strong moralistic approach. Stresses on obedience to the law according to Moses.    

One can go much more detailed into these sources, but that’s the gist of it. They sort of pop up in the rest of the OT, but they shine in the Torah.   

The Torah is easy to outline:    

Genesis: the origin of all life which ends in punishment and mercy. Genesis then continues with the “Patriarchs,” every feminist’s worst nightmare. The Patriarchs began with Abraham and continues until Moses in.

Exodus: God saves his people and promises them their own land.

Leviticus: which is literally a huge list of rules to follow once they get the 10 Commandments.

Numbers: also comprised of rules but actually gets into some narrative as the Hebrews wander the desert killing other tribes that get in their way, along with the fabled Ark of the Covenant.

Deuteronomy: Moses’s long speech warning everyone to obey God or lose the Promised Land. Moses actually never gets to walk into the Promised Land; he dies the moment they see it. Spoiler alert. After the Torah is what scholars call the “Historical Books” (Joshua all the way to 1&2 Maccabees).

This set records everything from Moses’ death to the aftermath of the Babylonian exile. Scholars also separate these books by different sources. Joshua to 1&2 Kings is believed to be from the Deuteronomist source, as it is somewhat droll and keeps tying itself back to Moses’s warning.

1&2 Chronicles to Lamentations has its own source labeled “Chronicler’s History��.

The rest, as I mentioned before, is only included in the Catholic Bible. These are seen to others as “apocryphal texts” or aka – non-canonical.   

The Book of Judges is one of my favorites, mainly because it tells of how Israel rose to power through the use of B-movie action heroes with gratuitous violence and gore and adventure. They called these heroes “judges”, because after their violent heroic exploits, they ruled the land for some time and judged with great wisdom. Then the plot repeated itself as Israel turned away from God, sinned, a new tyrant rose, and another judge arrived to save the day. Basically like a typical action movie sequel. I think more people would be apt to look into the Bible if they were aware such amusing stories were written.

Just a small preview, Judges include:    

Ehud – he assassinated the fat tyrant king of the Moabites by gutting him with a sword. He did so in the most Samuel L. Jackson way possible. He went up the king and said, “I have a message from God for you.” The king was so fat that when he fell the entire sword fit inside him.    

Samson – a strong man with supernatural strength like Hercules. He fought lions and slayed an entire army wielding the jawbone of an ass. His only weaknesses were pretty women and the cutting of his hair.   

Deborah – one of the few oldest passages in any ancient scripture having a female protagonist. She led an army against Jabin, who had ruled over Canaan. On her free time she chilled underneath a palm tree and passed her judgments there. Because thrones and courtrooms are fucking boring.    

Abimelech – son of the judge Gideon, who became a tyrant. He died by the hand of a woman who threw him out of a window into a mill-stone. His wounds were fatal, but he was so offended by this that he ordered his armor-bearer to kill him instead so that it won’t be said that he died by a woman. Well, fuck, dude, I guess that didn’t work out did it? Else I wouldn’t be here typing this.

   Dredd - Judge Dredd was the most kickass of them all –haha, only like five people are going to find this funny.

 The rest of the Old Testament is winding down now. There’s more history that I won’t get into until later downward, and then there are fables and "Wisdom books”. Judith and Ester are fables not meant to be taken seriously. They serve as tales to show the glory of serving God and whatever. They also have female protagonists. The Book of Job is another one of my favorites. (It’s the inspiration for my character Job McCony in my sci-fi writings). God and the devil make a bet to see if Job loses faith in God. It’s a classic tale meant to show man’s determination to believe in God even when shit hits the fan. Song of Songs is actually a bit erotic. Proverbs and Psalms are self-explanatory. At this point, I’ve gone through the bulk of the Old Testament except the Prophets. So I’ll skip to that.

The Prophets are books from Isaiah and Jeremiah, then from Ezekiel to Malachi. Like the Judges, the Prophets are separated into minor and major groups.

We need to do a quick jump back here though because there are two major Prophets who DO NOT have eponymous books - Elijah and Elihsa. Their deeds are recorded in the Book of Kings 1 and 2.

Kings 1 and 2 are also the source of many ancient astronaut conspiracy theories, but that’s another topic for another time. Like Judges, they are filled with adventures, but with mysticism and magic.The kingdom was in turmoil then, split into Israel and Judah, and prophecies arose of when all this would be fine and dandy and a “messiah” would come to rescue them from the clutches of Assyrians and Babylonians and whatever other pagan nation that bullied the Israelites. Kings are very entertaining books - I pretty much just love the entire Old Testament at this point, let’s face it. The tales of Elijah and Elisha include intrigue and magic. There is one hilarious passage, 2 Kings 2:23-24, without any clear explanation. A few little boys make fun of Elisha. Elisha then summons two she-bears to eat the boys, and NONE OF THIS IS EVER MENTIONED EVER AGAIN.

It’s great. I really suggest you read it.

See, the reason why Elijah and Elisha didn’t have their own books was because they never wrote down their own sayings. These other men did.

The Prophets are where we get the foreshadowing of a savior, although when he finally did come, things got more complicated. The Old Testament ends with these hopeful prophecies.   

Biblical Archaeology: How Much of This is Based on True Events?

Biblical archaeology is really fascinating. Like any other search in archaeology though, one shouldn’t be focused so much on finding out if legends are true. Rather, one should seek the truth of the culture and history surrounding the legends.    

Most of this shit is old.   

Jericho is noted in the Old Testament as the first city that the Israelites conquered. In reality, it’s one of the oldest continually inhabited cities in the world, reaching as far back as 9,000 BCE.

Do you know how fucking old that is? The Egyptians weren’t even a thing until around the 3,000’s. However, Jericho has evidence of being destroyed, rebuilt, abandoned, and repopulated many times over. 

  Historicity and archaeological evidence presents much broader ranges of time periods in which these events could have occurred. Like Jericho, a lot of this shit is old, and the Old Testament is attempting to illustrate specific events anywhere within 9,000 BCE to about 10 BCE.

This creates some controversy when people really want to place the events told in the Bible in their implied time frame. You hear shit like people finding the Ark or the resting place of Noah’s Ark. Another big dispute is when the Hebrews were slaves in Egypt. There are very little Egyptian accounts of such a time, and when they do pop up it’s much later than when Exodus implies it took place.

Ramses II is a popular candidate as the Exodus Pharaoh, depicted in many movies and cartoons. However, again, there is no concrete evidence. 

Once you start talking about the split of the Israel after King Solomon’s death, their civil war, the creation of Judah, and the Babylonian captivity, the Old Testament actually merges with known ancient history of the world.

Tiglath-Pilesar III (Doc’s favorite historical figure) was an actual Assyrian king who said “Fuck everyone” and conquered the known world at the time, including Israel and Judah. (They later were conquered by Nebuchadnezzar II of the Neo-Babylonian Empire, resulting in the Babylonian Captivity). Tiglath was wily and took advantage of Israel’s civil war. He was known for making mounds of skulls from dead warriors, just to show people how much of a dick he was, I guess. Speaking of dicks, do you have any idea how they kept a number count of the dead after a battle back in the ancient world?

You guessed it – they cut off the dicks of soldiers.

Imagine having THAT GUY’S job.

Ol’ Tiglath was also the inventor of the standing army. He amassed so much that he realized it was a good idea to have a professional army that stood around even in times of peace.

And that’s my first article on the Old Testament. I’m sure I’ll write much more about it because it can honestly take up volumes.

‘Till next time.

Sources:

Reading the Old Testament: An Introduction by Lawrence Boadt

101 Myths of the Bible: How Ancient Scribes Invented Biblical History by Gary Greenberg

FUN FACTS:

- Elijah battled wits with Jezebel, a pagan princess. Jezebel was known for being very cunning in trying to fool Elijah. For this reason, the name Jezebel has been stigmatized; you were seen as a woman who was a whore and immoral, although in today’s world this is mostly forgotten.

- In the 1981 movie Raiders of the Lost Ark, Marcus Brody mentions that the Bible “speaks of the Ark leveling mountains, laying waste to entire cities.” No such passages were ever written. The Ark is mentioned and is carried by the Israelites but there are only a handful of scenes where it actually does something, which includes inducing plagues and killing farm animals. The last we ever read about the Ark is when the Babylonians sacked Jerusalem, leading to the captivity. No extra-Biblical sources mention the Ark.

- Ezekiel 25:17 is a passage made famous by the movie Pulp Fiction. The verse in the movie has several alterations though.