#wish yao had died in the last book :/

[lastofthe20thcenturygirls]

oh so when basen rikuson and lahan don't understand something right away that's because they aren't jinshi or gaoshun but when that annoying girl en'en doesn't she's smart she just needs a little push ?????

[ibijau]

concubine nhs pt8 / on AO3

It’s always nice when Nie Mingjue comes to visit, and it’s always awful.

Most days, Nie Huaisang can pretend that he’s doing fine. Three years is a long time to get used to living like this, and he doesn’t miss the world outside the imperial palace, because there's nothing beyond those high walls. As long as he can believe that, he's fine. 

On the first year of his life as a concubine, the emperor took him along when he went to the summer palace for the hotter months of the year, but that went poorly. In the summer palace it was too hard to avoid imperial relatives, ministers, and all manners of people eager to get in the good graces of Nie Huaisang, hoping it would give them influence over the emperor. Nie Huaisang had to ask to return to the capital, to hide in his little house where nobody can use him for their own schemes. The year after, the emperor eventually gave up when Nie Huaisang refused to return to the summer palace. 

It's easier like this. 

There's nothing outside Nie Huaisang’s little house. 

There's nothing, until Nie Mingjue comes to visit and brings the world with him. 

In those last three years, Nie Mingjue has visited five times. It is always the most exquisite of tortures when they are alone together. Nie Mingjue won't put up with his brother's attempts to cut himself from everything that's outside the palace, and tells him about what life is like out there. 

He talks about the war, about home, about the people Nie Huaisang once counted as his friends. The Jiang siblings are doing well, he'll say, and Meng Yao, whom he stole from Nie Funyu, is the best personal servant he's ever had and will get promoted. The Wen have besieged Yunmeng for two month and nearly got in, until Wei Wuxian came up with another of his stratagems and saved the city. Last month, Nie Mingjue captured Wen Xu, who chose to kill himself with poison rather than be dragged in front of the emperor or used as a hostage. And just like Nie Huaisang suggested last time, they're sowing discord among the Wen's ranks, which might give them a chance to weaken them, and then perhaps they'll be able to get to the Nightless City before the end of the year. 

When Nie Mingjue arrives, Nie Huaisang is always subdued at first, and reluctant to hear about these things. It no longer concerns him, he's already doing his part, he can't get involved, concubines who do politics never end well, and… and Nie Mingjue doesn't care. He continues talking until Nie Huaisang, his curiosity awakened, finds himself asking questions because Nie Mingjue is the worst storyteller, always leaving things so vague, forgetting important details. 

Maybe he does it on purpose, so Nie Huaisang will become hungry for more, hungry enough to ask about this world he's become so good at forgetting, his question growing more and more precise as the afternoon passes. He needs to know what Wei Wuxian did exactly, how dangerous it was, whether it can be reproduced somewhere else. How was Wen Xu captured? What became of his wife and son? Are they really hoping to get Wen Zhuliu to their side? And what about that city they’d captured last year, do they still have it? Why not use it then?

Nie Mingjue smiles and answers everything, so Nie Huaisang continues asking more questions. Like every good caged bird, he knows more than one song to please those around him, because not everyone wants to hear the same tune.

There is only one topic that Nie Mingjue normally avoids, it might truly hurt his brother. At least, he usually avoids it. But not this time. This time, perhaps because the end of the war is finally on the horizon, Nie Mingjue asks his brother if he’s happy.

The question takes Nie Huaisang by surprise.

Of course he’s happy. He’s well fed, he has everything he can ask for, clothes and ink and books, he’s even going to have birds, his very own birds, all because he mentioned in passing his childhood love of them, and so the emperor decided to build him a whole aviary, all for himself, one where other people won’t be allowed to pester him.

Who wouldn’t be happy? Who wouldn’t be satisfied?

Nie Huaisang would have to be stupid to be unhappy.

But he can tell, also, that this isn’t what Nie Mingjue wants to hear. Nie Huaisang has become a little too used to reassuring people and being what they want him to be. The emperor likes to have a loving little songbird who worries about nothing. Nie Mingjue likes people to be clever and determined, to be independent.

It’s so easy to be what Nie Mingjue wants him to be. To say that no, he’s not quite happy, but willing to endure it all for the good of the empire. It’s not even a lie, Nie Huaisang is glad to be useful, and he’d do this even if he hated it, as long as it can help his brother.

“I’m going to take you back home someday,” Nie Mingjue, so fierce that it startles his brother. “The day Father dies, I’ll ask to have you back, I swear.”

Nie Huaisang hesitates. Home is an odd concept. Home is here, in his perfect little cage, living his perfect little life, happy in the arms of a perfect man who would give him the moon. This is home. It has always been home. It will always be home.

Home, he vaguely remembers, is also a great house where he was always busy. A place where people talked to him just because he was there, or because they had a task for him to do, and it was all they expected of him. He remembers laughing and sharing gossip, he remembers going fishing with some other boys. He recalls his aunts and uncles, working in his father’s home or in the nearby town, feeding him candies, asking after his studies, reminding him to be a good obedient son. And there were also evenings spent with Nie Mingjue when he was there, listening to his tales from the border, sharing jokes, being comforted by him when he missed his mother.

Home was all this, once, but now that feels like someone else’s dream.

Nie Huaisang scolds his brother for speaking like this, for not understanding that, much like wild birds kept too long, he’s not sure he could survive outside his cage anymore. He’s happy here. He’s home here.

Nie Huaisang knows he’s lucky, and he knows he must protect his brother, so he quickly changes the conversation to something safer, and waits for the emperor to return. Then Nie Mingjue will see that Nie Huaisang is, in fact, happy enough, that the emperor is good to him, that this little cage is a great place to live.

Everything always feels better when the emperor is there. 

It's odd that the emperor isn't there yet. 

Eventually, some servants arrive carrying a meal for Nie Huaisang and his guest, as well as an apology from the emperor who cannot join them. Something came up, as happens sometimes. Nie Huaisang is sad, as he always is when the emperor cannot join him, but Nie Mingjue's company makes up for it. They chat some more about the war, using weiqi stones on a map to imagine how things might go. Nie Huaisang, who plays the Wens in black, almost wins that little game. 

"You're really wasted as a concubine," Nie Mingjue says as they tidy everything. 

"Maybe, but the food here is better than in the army," Nie Huaisang laughs. 

-

Nie Mingjue doesn't come the next day, and neither does the emperor. The two facts are linked, since they and some other ministers are stuck in a council that lasts until nightfall. Nie Huaisang misses both of them, but knows it’s already lucky either of them has any time at all to waste with him.

-

Nie Mingjue does come the day after, but it's to say goodbye. He really only came to the capital to ask for more funds and more men. The war is going well, but if the Wens find out that he's gone they could try to take advantage of his absence, so he cannot linger. 

Again, the emperor cannot join them. Three days without a visit is unusual, but not unheard off. Nie Huaisang tries not to show that it depresses him, for Nie Mingjue's sake. His brother understands when this whole thing is about duty, but gets puzzled or angry whenever Nie Huaisang tries to explain that he truly enjoys the emperor’s company because it is also about love.

He thinks Nie Huaisang is lying. 

Nie Mingjue doesn’t like being lied to.

It's easier to just say the right things, to be what others expect him to be. It's the best way to ensure that people never stop loving him. 

There's no lying in that, Nie Huaisang figures. Not really. He really is the loving little bird who loves poetry and painting. He is also the dedicated little brother who studies the war and guesses at its outcome. 

He's never lying, and it's his own fault if he's too complicated to be loved as his entire self. 

-

The emperor doesn't come. 

Four days is a long time, unheard of. 

The emperor doesn't come. 

Five days now. 

The emperor doesn't come. 

But his brother does, on that sixth day, because the prince has never yet missed one of their weekly meetings. 

"Has anything happened recently?" Nie Huaisang asks him, trying to sound calm and collected. 

The prince likes the quiet. Usually Nie Huaisang respects that, copying the behaviour of his guest, silent and elegant, wanting the prince to like him. They rarely ever speak while having tea togethr. But today, Nie Huaisang is too worried to keep his mouth shut. 

The prince throws him a puzzled look. He puts down his glass of tea, slow and elegant and irritatingly perfect. 

"You don't know?" the prince asks in a voice devoid of emotion. 

"Know what?" Nie Huaisang asks, wishing for once that he'd made more connections . He doesn't even trust his servants with any confidences, worried they might turn against him given a chance, but maybe that was a mistake. He's relied too much on the emperor as his only source of information about the palace, and now… 

"I don't know either," the prince clarifies. "But he stopped visiting you. It has been noticed. A dispute?" 

Nie Huaisang shakes his head. The last time they saw each other, the emperor was in an excellent mood. He seemed so happy that Nie Mingjue was coming to the capital, so excited to see his old friend again. It had been a happy night, they had chatted and laughed, they had gone to sleep holding each other close… in a rare stroke of luck, Nie Huaisang had even briefly woken up early enough to see the emperor as he left the bed the morning after, begging for a kiss before going back to sleep.

“Did he have an argument with my brother?” Nie Huaisang wonders, before shaking his head again. “No, da-ge would have said… Could your uncle have been pushing him to get a wife again?”

“He would visit you more, not less,” the prince calmly argues, starting to look puzzled as well. “I hope it does not last.”

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Nie Huaisang says with a polite bow. “When I find what I have done wrong, I will endeavour to improve myself so I do not disappoint again.”

The prince says nothing. He picks up his tea again, finishes it, puts down the empty glass again.

“It will not last,” the prince says. “Brother cares too much.”

That’s the end of their conversation. The prince has obligations, and cannot stay. Nie Huaisang, ever the polite host for his brother-in-law, thanks the prince for coming, apologizes for bothering him with private matters, and promises again to do better in the future and avoid worrying anyone.

He’s then left alone again, and feeling lonely in a way he hadn’t in a long while. The emperor isn’t visiting on purpose, then. The prince did not say it exactly like that, but if the emperor had merely been busy, he would have said so. Has Nie Huaisang done something? Did he fail to do something? But it’s so odd. They’ve never had an argument, not really. The closest they’ve been to that was disagreeing here and there on the value of a poet’s work, and even then they’d always made up again before the evening was over.

It makes no sense.

Still there is that hope, however frail, that the prince might talk to his brother. Maybe he will complain against being dragged into their private life, and demand that the emperor sort this out so he doesn’t have to deal with Nie Huaisang’s emotional outbursts again. Or perhaps he’ll be nicer than that. The prince did seem concerned, and apparently he likes Nie Huaisang, or at least gets as close to it as he can ever get, so perhaps he will put in a kind word to his brother about that poor neglected little bird, all alone in his pretty cage…

But the emperor doesn’t come that night, and Nie Huaisang, alone in a bed too cold, struggles to fall asleep.

-

Then, after a week, while Nie Huaisang is reading the commentary to a military treaty, there is a knock on the door.

When he opens that door, the emperor is there, severe and distant like a true son of heavens, showing no hint of the gentle and tender man Nie Huaisang is used to seeing inside his little house. He is terrifying and distant, almost reminding Nie Huaisang of his father. Reminding him, also, who this man he loves truly is, when he's not playing pretend with him in their little house.

“We must talk,” the emperor says in a cold voice that tolerates no defiance.

And just like that, Nie Huaisang knows that it’s over.

[anteaterisland]

lxc!

Oh excellent. My son, my boy, the other king of my heart. 

How I feel about this character: He lives rent-free in my head. The reason he lives rent-free, is because a-Yao lives in my heart and he’s the landlord and Xichen pays rent in sexual favors. This is what they meant when they said: my body is a battleground.

 When i finished the show for the first time I texted my best friend: 

I’ve figured out my favorite. Lan Xichen. I love all the Lans because I relate to their emotional repression and floating around in ghostly white silks, but if i had to pick, lan zhan and lan sizhui are too happy to top the list for my personal favorite. Lan Xichen is brimming with the most desolation, and therefore wins the title. When he evaporated the alcohol he won my heart. The layers of fucking humor in that kill me. (it took a few days to come to terms, as well as reading the book, before I admitted to myself that meng yao was my favorite. Lan Xichen’s a close second though.) 

All the people I ship romantically with this character: uh heheheheh, yeah. Xiyao. Xiyao alone. It makes my brain go brrrrrrrrrr. 

Like: oh boy, right after he’s stabbed in the chest, jgy is understandably miffed about it, and he’s like: I can’t believe you’ve done this, you’re the same as Mingjue after all, you put a sword in me just like he was always trying too, and I never thought you were going to do that ON ACCOUNT OF HOW Every Time Mingjue pulled a sword on me, you pulled yours to defend me, what the fuck, er-ge?

And Xichen’s like, trembling and bloody and teary and is like: I TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCKING MOVE, or I would have no choice but to stab you!!!!!! 

A-Yao: you don’t even know if I moved or not, but if you trusted me more than Huaisang you’d know I didn’t fucking move. you hypocrite

And then he’s like, well im giving you a last chance to atone yourself for me, die with me, its the least you could do. There’s something so genuinely fucked up about his arbitration of the lives that exist around him and whether they will continue or not, but critically, he commands Xichen’s death because Xichen just KILLED HIM. 

And when Xichen agrees, he’s pushed away. Mingjue died in large part because he attempted to kill jgy, and despite Xichen actually succeeding, he doesn’t die, because he was sorry about it.

 He’s so hollow after that, like, it’s legitimately crazy they have an audience for that, it’s crazy that that’s the climax of the whole fifty episode show, i don’t know how anyone can watch the untamed and not come away with a xiyao obsession. 

My non-romantic otp for this character: Lan Xichen/Devestated Seclusion. Sorry if you were hoping for a happier answer but without a-Yao, I think he’s ruined. His whole character hinges on their mutual entanglement. And as a writer, his devastation compels me. Certain events in my personal life put in the mood for writing about grief. I have a seclusion series in the works I may post soon, after gold lotus is done. 

My unpopular opinion for this character: yeah, i don’t have just one of these, but they run along a theme. 

Firstly: I can’t stand Xic//heng. Again, sorry. But I really think they wouldn’t get along at all. Not when Meng Yao is alive, and certainly not after he’s dead. People really think he just happened to be friends with a-Yao like that man wasn’t his whole life’s obsession. Like repression doesn’t make people crazy he just happens to be mild-mannered. 

Secondly: Xichen is not like, a perfect moral paragon who was horribly deceived by that snake jgy’s persona. All those times he was like: I am aware a-Yao murdered people, and I think it was fine because he had a reason and it was a good idea actually. It just doesn’t register for people. He’s always closing his eyes because he ignores the things about the world he doesn’t want to see until he can’t anymore. 

Thirdly: He’s fascinating to think about, not least because there’s nothing in the text that outright removes the possibility for the alternate reading of a Lan Xichen complicit in JGY’s crimes. Obviously, i’m not saying that’s what actually happened, but it’s a compelling exercise. Like, you know what i will never, EVER be over? Wuji sneaking up on guanyin temple at night, peeking over the walls, seeing all the jin soldiers and bein: something’s fucky, and then seeing then all bow as Zewu-jun walks stately through them, sword in hand, not looking remotely like a hostage and then looking at each other going: SOMETHING’S FUCKED! So much fun. That’s also a fic in the works, if i ever manage to finish gold lotus

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: When you think about it, we never got a single scene where Lan Xichen and Meng Yao were alone in a room together. Never once. Always they were constrained in public. And they were so melty with each other, they talked and touched so gently. When they meet, people watching, say goodbye the first time, people watching, never see them hiding in the brothel, mingjue there in qishan, giant doors open with a bunch of death row prisoners, banquet, phoenix mountain crowd hunt, banquet, 100 days invite family discussion, nightless city toast, greeting before banquet, banquet, music lesson, staircase, treasure vault, break-up, temple. Never once alone. 

Oh fucking hell. Listen, being able to rattle off every xiyao scene from the top of my head is a skill im glad to have, but i didn’t like, need to know i had it, you know? 

Anyway. They’re literally never fucking alone with each other and i’d like to see it. They’re both so repressed and polite and they love each other so much, it’s basically all i can think about, how they must have been each other’s sanctuary when they were able to be alone. 

Someone ask me to do Mingjue i’m on a roll

[imaginaryelle]

Literally no one asked but I saw this excellent post and just the mention of “The Untamed Temeraire!AU” threw my brain into high gear and I was able to think of nothing else until I wrote some things down and here we are, 1.5 thousand words later. (No Temeraire knowledge required here, I’m totally ignoring like 90% of that canon and 100% of what it says about its in-universe version of China but dragons, okay. Dragons with generational bonds with human partners, I can’t help myself.)

*

Yingyue is the eldest dragon of the Five Great Sects, and she likes Jiang Cheng well enough, or at least, he’s pretty sure she likes him, and it’s admittedly nice to just lie back and bask in the river without ever wondering if he’s going to float too far away from the dock or be dragged under the surface by a water ghoul because she’s always right there, warm scales under his spine, keeping him afloat. She’s calm when he’s angry, and she’s never once failed to show up and tickle his feet with her whiskers when he’s sitting on the end of the pier alone, and she talks about his family and the river in a way that makes him feel connected to something bigger, and helps him worry a bit less about his mother’s expectations and his father’s love. Yingyue likes him, and that’s pretty much the next best thing to getting the approval of at least three of his ancestors all at once. He does sometimes wish she would leave the water more often. She’s too big for it, too big to really play, the way Mochou plays with Wei Wuxian, and too old, too.

Mochou is younger even than Jiang Cheng himself, hatched a mere eight days after his father brought Wei Wuxian home, and she makes no secret of her favoritism. She’ll take food from Jiang Yanli, and she lets Jiang Cheng oil her scales as she grows, but it’s Wei Wuxian’s shoulders she curls around while she small enough to do so, and Wei Wuxian who she carries higher than any sword could hope to fly once she’s large enough, and Wei Wuxian who knows exactly what kinds of ideas she likes best. Their partnership does nothing to dispell the rumors surrounding Wei Wuxian’s parentage, but it’s fine, it’s fine, because they’re always going to stay at Lotus Pier, and they’ll always play faithful seconds to Jiang Cheng and Yingyue, and it’s all going to be fine.

(The truth is that Yingyue loves Jiang Cheng almost as much as she loves Lotus Pier itself, has loved him ever since he wrapped his chubby toddler fingers around her whiskers and pulled when he was barely a year old, loves him more than his sister, promised away almost before she drew breath, and more than his brother, too wild and fiery to ever understand the ebb and flow of the river, and she’s the one who makes sure he’s safely in Meishan before she returns to save whatever she can from Wen blades and dragonfire. Lotus Pier will not burn, not while she or any of her line still draw breath in the world, but she is not fast enough to stop Jiang Fengmian’s death, cannot protect the heirlooms inside the walls, cannot hope to win by flood and fury against attack from so many dragons, all of them young and fast and with far less to lose. She saves what she can—the buildings, the pier, the eggs she has guarded for nearly fifty years, and she sinks deep into the river mud where none of the brash, hotblooded Wen dragons can hope to follow.

She knows the instant Jiang Cheng again steps foot in her territory, just as she knows that the Wens are still waiting for her. She knows the moment the discipline whip hits his skin.

She leaves the eggs. She fights.

When Mochou and Wei Wuxian come for Jiang Cheng, they find him without a core, and Lotus Pier without a dragon, and they know exactly what they have to do.)

*

Lan Xichen expects to form a bond with his father’s dragon, who was also his grandfather’s dragon and his great grandfather’s dragon (the line between a human sect leader and a dragon sect leader can be—blurred, sometimes), but instead he finds himself fleeing across the mountainside with as much of the Lan library as he can fit in every qiankun bag he could find and the last egg that still waited in the Cold Pond Cave wrapped in silk and tied carefully to his chest, and he’s already mourning the dragon who was almost a parent, almost a grandparent, and one of the first casualties to fall to the invading Wens. It’s not that he regrets meeting little Xinyi when she hatches, but she’s so young; he’s trying to feed a fledgling dragon on a battlefield and lead his sect without the benefit of hundreds of years experience at his back and it’s—well it’s harder than he thought it would be.

(Xinyi knows she’s not the partner Lan Xichen expected. She reads all of the books he carries, and then all the books in Meng Yao’s tiny shop, and she listens to respected cultivators and dragons alike in her quest for ever-more knowledge, as if she can replace lived experience with vicarious reports. She makes herself useful. She may not remember the battles of her ancestors, but she can still freeze men solid on a clear summer’s night and she draws better maps than any other scout in the Sunshot campaign’s assembled forces, and she guards his dreams with gentle warmth at his side and sharp teeth bared against the night.)

Lan Wangji visits his mother’s dragon once a month every month starting the day his mother dies, but they both know it’s mostly because the Elders hope she’ll choose him as a replacement. She had curled around him, after all, that cold night in the snow on the doorstep of their shared mourning, but really that’s the extent of their relationship: they both mourn the same person. There is nothing else to draw them together. Or at least, there’s nothing else until he misses a meeting, and then two, and then on the last day of the third month he climbs to her windy ridge with a splint on his leg and a Xuanwu’s blood on his robes and Nianzhen finally sees the same fierce fire in his eyes that burns under her scales, and then, then nothing can come between them.

*

Wei Wuxian emerges from the Burial Mounds with a dragon as dark as a moonless night gliding at his heels and the dead shuffling in his wake. Junshuang has a voice like no dragon ever seen before, a weapon that slips under closed doors and around reinforced fortifications like mist and that turns men and dragons alike, ally fighting ally until none are left alive and the corpses march to new rhythms. He clings to Wei Wuxian like a shadow—ever-present, and growing ever larger as the sun dips lower.

(Mochou does not like Junshuang. She doesn’t like him at all. It’s justice, the world says, that when Wei Wuxian dies under his brother’s blade, so too does his dragon—bloodied and beaten at the end of his old partner’s talons.)

*

Jin Guangyao spends years courting Jianhong’s approval, years of visits and careful speeches and the most perfect gifts he can find. He spends almost as much time seeing to the dragon’s comfort as he does seeking his father’s favor, but the great bulk of dragon scales never moves, the mouth never opens, the eyes never so much as blink in his direction. It’s only when he tells Jianhong that Jin Guangshan is dead that he finally gets a response. One amber eye opens, and silver-white teeth gleam in reflected lantern light.  “Tell me, little serpent,” the dragon hisses, all-too-knowing. “How you achieved it.”

*

The dragons of the Nie Clan are as short-lived as their partners, as a rule. They shine hot and bright, fierce and strong, and burn themselves out almost faster than the next generation can hatch. But the Nie Clan has never cultivated the same way as the other Sects, and a life lost is not the same as knowledge passed beyond reach.

It’s luck, more than anything, that Nie Huaisang is able to save the pearl between Zhihong’s antlers from the deadly sweep of his brother’s maddened blade. Luck and arrogant assumptions that keep Zhiruo from drawing attention, even with the same pearl settled on her forehead in conference after conference, meeting after meeting, where the two of them watch Jin Guangyao smile, and nod, and lie. “Patience,” she murmurs with the wisdom of unbroken generations stretching out in her memory. “Everyone makes mistakes eventually.”

*

Send me an AU and I’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it.

[isabilightwood]

The Problem with Authority - Chapter 1

CQL!Verse, Wangxian and Yanqing, canon divergence with Qin Su sacrifice summoning JYL after Jin Rusong’s death. JYL teams up with NHS to fix things, starting with bringing back WWX. Wen Qing is alive because I said so, and LWJ gets in the way of plotting because he’s a romantic.

See my self reblog for the AO3 link/additional tags and warnings

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The problem with authority is that if you leave it lying around, others will take it. — Yoon Ha Lee, Ninefox Gambit

Qin Su was tired of the constant hovering.

Every time she set foot outside her own rooms, she was beset by disciples and the wives of subordinates, telling her over and over how very sorry they were.

It was all bullshit.

Fake, social climbing schemers, who were more concerned with the fact that Jin Guangshan’s legitimate grandson was once again the sect heir, than sorry for the death of her son. Her A-Song.

They expected her to sob constantly, to wail and tear her hair from her scalp. That they could comfort Qin Su by repeating the same trite, cloying words day-by-day. Earn a little status out of tragedy. If Qin Su had to listen to one more apology, she was going to be sick all other the offending madam’s embroidery hoop.

It was true that she still couldn’t go a day without crumbling into tears. But mostly, she was numb. Exhausted, in more ways than one. She wanted to go to sleep, and wake with her son tucked safely into bed, or not wake up at all.

The private treasury was the only place where she could be certain she would not be disturbed. Even in her own bedroom, it would only be so long before a maid was sent to find her. Only she and her husband could open the hidden entrance to the vault. Only in the treasury, could she be alone, to find something to distract herself, however briefly, from the avalanche of her grief.

There were still many items that had been claimed by her deceased father-in-law after the war that had not been cataloged. Priceless relics and weapons and irreplaceable texts alike sat neglected in trunks. Jin Guangshan had cared only for possession, occasionally touting one item or another out to show off. Ten months after A-Yao’s succession, shelves continued to sit empty. Neither she nor A-Yao had found the time, busy keeping everything running smoothly, as he made bids for projects he called progress with the gleam in his eyes that had first made her chase after him. Back when he seemed flattered by her attention, interested in her as more than a friend or colleague.

Qin Su herself managed the internal minutiae of the Sect and oversaw disciple training. The latter would traditionally fall to the Head Disciple, but they had lost one after another. The woman who had been intended to aid Jin Zixuan had resigned over some disagreement before his death. Her replacement, a second or third cousin to the main Jin Clan, married out to the leader of the Fengyang Hua Sect, a growing sect that bordered Gusu and Lanling. Their replacement died at Nightless City, along with the next dozen or so disciples in line. And so Qin Su was free to manage the training as she wished.

Or had been, until she was asked to take a step back from training, for fear her grief would destabilize her qi. It was true that she had been unable to focus. However, stewing in the unending reminders that she would never hold A-Song in her arms again was no help. Attending to her duties as a hostess only made it worse.

Sorting the looted relics was mindless work, that required none of the focus she had lacked for the forty-one days since A-Song’s death. But it was something to occupy her hands, and some small part of her thoughts.

She began with the books that day, sorting into titles that were common and could be sold, those that needed to be repaired, and those to dangerous to be held anywhere but the treasury. Qin Su moved to start a new pile, for useful, rare texts that should be copied, on a table, and a disorganized pile of notes and notebooks caught her eye.

It was the disorganization that stood out. A-Yao never left anything out like that. He must have been called away, but if he returned and saw it, that would trigger his own flood of tears.  Qin Su had heard him sobbing, late into the night, from the next room over. But each morning, he greeted his work with his habitual dedication, no matter how puffy his eyes, or how little he’d slept. A-Yao would never forgive himself if his work was delayed by his composure crumbling over a small thing out of place.

She picked up the papers, intending only to organize them into an even stack, and place them evenly between the notebooks. But their subject caught her attention.

A circular array was drawn on each paper. Identical, to her unpracticed eyes, with varied notes printed in precise calligraphy in different locations on each page.

Qin Su had always focused on the sword, leaving talismans to those with innovative minds yet weaker cores, like her husband. Yet this array made her look twice.

Sacrifice Summon was written at the top of the first page, the one with the least writing. The soul of the caster is permanently exchanged for that of a chosen spirit or ghost, fully resurrecting the deceased. It was a complex design, meant to drawn in the blood of the caster.

Voices, from the other side of the portal. A-Yao must have wanted to show an item from the vault to a guest. Her heartbeat sped up, her hands shaking as she dropped the papers back onto the table.

The last thing Qin Su wanted was to have to greet her husband’s guests, while he smiled his disappointment in her for shirking her duties.

She raised the tablecloth and ducked beneath, knocking one of the papers off the table as she did so. Catching it, she pulled it to her chest, dropping the cloth back into place just in time. It was dark in the small space, and stuffy. Her heart hammered hard enough Qin Su felt certain it must be audible throughout the room. But her presence was not discovered, and so Qin Su did not have to answer as to why Jin-furen was hiding from her own husband.

“The remainder of the He Clan has been dealt with.” Su Minshan reported. His voice was easily identifiable from the obsequiousness with which he always treated her husband. She’d asked A-Yao what he saw in him once, and he’d flashed his dimples at her and said, unfaltering loyalty is a trait I cannot afford to lose. So Qin Su tolerated Su Minshan, though he made her skin crawl. And made certain never to be caught alone with him. “Xue Yang tracked them down to the last man.”

Why he kept Xue Yang around, on the other hand, was a mystery.

“Good, that’s good,” A-Yao said. Never shy of heaping praise on his subordinates, he would be smiling up at the other man. “Tell me, what did Xue Yang bring back with him?”

“A few urchins, from town. He said they were his payment for leaving the bodies alone.” Su Minshan scoffed, disgusted.

It didn’t sound like Xue Yang had brought the children to become disciples.

There was the slap of a forehead hitting a palm. A-Yao’s voice was slightly muffled as he gave an exasperated sigh. “I told him he could experiment with animals or dead bodies or not at all. Especially not children.” There was the slightest break in his voice at the word children. “Xue Yang has outlived his usefulness. Have him disposed of and left somewhere remote.”

The command was delivered coldly, casually. He sounded nothing like the warm, if more distant than Qin Su had initially expected, husband she knew.

“Yes, Zongzhu.” A pair of disciples said, their footsteps receding as they took their leave.

“Your research is not completed, is it?” Su Minshan asked, once they were gone.

“I have better means now. My dear younger brother is eager to please, and will not dismember the test animals for kicks and giggles.” A-Yao spoke as though this was an ongoing discussion, yet Qin Su, his wife, had never heard a whisper of research on animals before that day. Only of field testing of the Yiling Patriarch’s inventions. “Or decide to run tests on townspeople and dismember them, too.”

Just what had her husband been allowing Xue Yang to do? It seemed impossible that flighty little Mo Xuanyu could achieve it, whatever it was.

“Another headache eliminated, then.” Su Minshan said. “That’s nearly all the most dangerous ones out of the way.”

There was a weighted pause before A-Yao replied, incongruously. “I did love my son, you know.”

“I did not mean to imply otherwise.” Su Minshan rushed to assure him. “I am deeply sorry this step was necessary.”

Step? What was he implying about A-Song?

“If only that woman had told you the truth earlier.” Su Minshan snarled. “Keeping it a secret while her daughter courted her own half-brother? What a selfish bitch.”

What? Qin Su clapped her hands over her mouth, stifling a choked gasp.

“Now, Minshan, please. You remember what my father was like. We were all of us his victims. A-Su, me, and both of our mothers.” For the first time, Qin Su understood what Lianfang-zun’s detractors meant when they said he dripped insincerity. “Ultimately, A-Song’s death can be placed at his feet.”

But A-Song was murdered after Jin Guangshan died, she thought stupidly. Utterly frozen in place, the short, harsh pants of her breath the only sign she had not just been dropped into hell. The two men spoke for a few more minutes, but Qin Su didn’t hear a word.

It was some time after they left that Qin Su moved, her stiff joints causing her to fall onto her side on the edge of the tablecloth.

How was she ever supposed to face the court, knowing what she did now? Look her half-brother in the face without screaming?

The honorable thing would be to expose him, and to then take her own life to restore her own honor.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t do that to her father, to her older siblings. Half-siblings, now, she supposed, with a crazed giggle. The only real siblings, the only real father Qin Su would ever have. It would be better if they never knew what had happened to their mother. To her.

But she couldn’t carry on as she had, either.

The forgotten paper crinkled in her hands. The Sacrifice Summon. Exchanging her life for another’s.

Was that the solution she was searching for? Could she?

Qin Su remembered her husband’s - her brother’s voice saying especially not children. Only breaths before declaring his own son’s death necessary.

Her A-Song was lost forever.

There was, however, another child under Lianfang-zun’s care. Another mother whose son was not lost, but who had nevertheless lost the chance to see him grow. If Qin Su exchanged her life for that woman’s, perhaps her soul would pass on quickly enough to find A-Song in another life.

Jiang Yanli would see Jin Ling grow up safely, ensure Lianfang-zun did not keep the power he had married his own sister and murdered his own son to secure.

That would be best for everyone.

Qin Su shakily extracted herself from beneath the table, returning to the one room she could be certain Lianfang-zun would never enter.

Now she knew why.

Locking the door to her room, Qin Su emptied what little was in her stomach into the chamber pot. When she was through, she began to draw the array.

 The first thing Jiang Yanli noticed was the silence. She had been on the battlefield at Nightless City, pushed A-Xian aside, and a sword went through her heart —

She had been dead. She was certain.

Oh, A-Xian. What did you do?

Slowly, Jiang Yanli sat up. She was sprawled on the floor of a well-appointed lady’s bedroom. In Koi Tower, by the color scheme, but its occupant had uncommon taste. Rather than gilded everything, there were accents of gold on the drapery and to emphasize ink paintings of the ocean and a palace she did not recognize.

There was also the matter of the array of blood that surrounded her. Demonic cultivation, which only supported her certainty that A-Xian was involved. But where was he? And if she was in Koi Tower, where was her son?

Yunmeng, something inside her whispered. Though she could not explain why, she knew it was true.

Checking herself for cuts, she found a gash across the palm of her hand. But it was already sealing, far faster than Jiang Yanli had healed from so much as a paper cut before her death.

She wasn’t an expert in raising the dead like her brother, but Jiang Yanli was fairly certain fierce corpses did not work that way. At the very least, she should have been bleeding black. Yet her blood was as red as ever.

Getting to her feet, she started to inspect the room for clues. On the way to the desk, she passed a mirror. Her gaze skipped past a mirror. And snapped back.

It was not Jiang Yanli’s face that looked back.

This woman’s face was rounder and softer than her own. Pretty, with a natural pink in her cheeks where Jiang Yanli’s had always had to be painted on, due to the frequency with which she lost her breath and grew dizzy. There, too, was a hint of the agelessness that came with a fully developed golden core. With a feeling of foreboding, Jiang Yanli felt along her meridians until she reached her core. No longer a weak, underdeveloped thing due to her inability to practice the heavily physical Jiang techniques, it shone bright and strong.

That was a point against this being A-Xian’s doing. He wouldn’t have stolen her a body, when he could simply bring back her own.

Why am I alive? Asked a voice in her head.

That would have been a reasonable question. Only it wasn’t Jiang Yanli thinking it.

Maybe resurrection came with the ability to understand spirits. The results were entirely untested, so it was possible. Yet the voice seemed certain it was alive. If her current state was due to demonic cultivation, she might as well do what A-Xian would: experiment.

“I could ask you the same question.” Jiang Yanli told the voice.

Jiang Yanli? It worked! But why am I in your head?

“Are you the one who brought me back?”  She tilted her head back, trying to place the way the voice made her head feel. Almost like the moment at the start of meditation when she began to forget her body to focus on her spirit, but with a disconnect keeping her grounded.

Yes. And then, I can hear your thoughts, the voice said, you don’t need to speak out loud.

That was disconcerting. Is this your body? She thought at the voice.

Yes. The voice said. Stop calling me that. I’m Qin Su.

Strangely, it was a relief to have a name. It made Qin Su feel more real than anything else in this surreal afterlife. So it would be more accurate to say I’m in your head. Am I possessing you?

It was supposed to be an exchange. My soul for yours.

Well clearly, it hadn’t worked that way.

Responding to her unformed question, the woman continued. The array is on the desk.

This… It was obviously A-Xian’s work, copied out by a more careful hand. But it looked incomplete, a half-developed first draft or his scattered notes on an older text that he could always piece back together perfectly, but left out crucial details for anyone else. Utterly unlike the labeled, if nearly illegible, minutiae on his complete work. Jiang Yanli would never have cast an array with so little information. Especially not one of A-Xian’s.

I didn’t know the Yiling Patriarch. And I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

No, she supposed not. Anyone casting this array would have to be desperate.

Everything fell apart and I just… used what I had on hand. There was the impression of a shrug, like her mind contorting itself into a new shape. My impulse decisions always have terrible consequences. That’s how I ended up pregnant and marrying the last person in the world I should have. Qin Su gave a short, harsh burst of hysterical laughter, startling Jiang Yanli into making the same noise aloud.

Telling whoever this abusive asshole was that her husband had died only a week ago, and she was certainly not performing any marital duties could wait until she figured out what Qin Su had done.

There are other pages with more notes in the treasury.

Jiang Yanli sprang to her feet. I’ll need to see them immediately.

She slid open the doors, and came face to face with a maid carrying cleaning supplies. Jiang Yanli quickly shut the doors behind her, so the maid could not catch a glimpse of the blood still staining the floor.

“Oh! Jin-furen.” The maid bowed deeply. “This one apologizes for assuming you would be out.”

It was something of a shock to be addressed by a title that had, from her perspective, belonged to her mother-in-law only yesterday. Jin-furen?

Ah, yes. I’ve been Jin-furen since Jin Guangshan… passed… ten months ago. The word “passed” came with a flash of embarrassment, telling Jiang Yanli enough for her to extrapolate the cause of death.

Jin Guangyao must be Jin-zongzhu then. Strange, he hadn’t seemed the abusive type.

Not abuse. Worse. Qin Su gagged in her mind, making Jiang Yanli do the same.

“Are you all right, Jin-furen?” The maid asked, hovering closer.

At least the gagging gave her an excuse not to allow anyone inside. “I’ll be fine. But please wait to clean until tomorrow. I’m afraid I’m not feeling well. Would you have some soup sent on a tray for my dinner?”

“Of course, Jin-furen.” The maid backed away, bowed, and hurried off.

Jiang Yanli turned to inspect the door, placing her hands on her hips. With Qin Su’s Golden Core, she could likely cast a locking spell. If she knew how, that was. She had always relied on A-Xian’s talismans, many of which he developed specifically for her. Unfortunately, she had none on hand.

That’s easy. Qin Su said. Draw the characters for lock, then modify it with…

It took Jiang Yanli a few tries to draw properly on her new core, but she was able to lock the door against casual entry. No cultivator with a sword would be kept out for long, but they would have to be willing to trespass in Jin-furen’s bedchamber.

The thin flush of victory faded the second she stepped through the treasury portal. Suibian lay on a shelf, visible from the door. A-Xian had not carried his sword for a long time. But he would never have handed it over to the Jin Clan, unless it was directly into Jiang Yanli’s arms. Something had gone terribly wrong.

Qin Su. Why is my A-Xian’s sword in the treasury? Jiang Yanli demanded. The answering silence was deafening. “Qin Su! Tell me why!”

He… died. At Nightless City. Not long after you did. Qin Su’s voice was hesitant, as though confused why she cared.

“No!” She let out a choked sob, clasping a hand over her mouth. A-Xian wasn’t — he couldn’t be ���

Didn’t he kill you? I was told —

“No! Never!” A-Xian would never have hurt her. I tried to save him.

Silence, for a moment, other than Jiang Yanli’s own ragged breaths. Then, I’m sorry. I’ve learned a lot of things I believed were lies today. Perhaps what they said about him was too.

They were. A-Xian was bright, and good, and cared too much. He had never been what they thought. Jiang Yanli had not needed to ask to know A-Xuan’s death was a horrible mistake, likely the result of stepping in between his cruel, vindictive cousin and her brother at the wrong moment. If he had meant to kill Jin Zixun, A-Xian had had good reason.

I think anyone who had the misfortune of meeting Jin Zixun considered killing him. Qin Su said wryly.

Jiang Yanli had had those thoughts. She gave a watery giggle that was answered in her head. It was sweet of Qin Su to try to comfort her when she could feel that she was still reeling for her own reasons. The least Jiang Yanli could do in return was get her some answers.

On the table.

She found the stack of diagrams easily, along with a tattered notebook that appeared to contain A-Xian’s original work. Jiang Yanli flipped through that, knowing that unless had both gotten a hold of one of the few people that could read his note-taking scrawl — her, Lan Wangji, and perhaps Wen Qing, who had taken their turns as A-Xian’s sounding board in succession — and convinced them to help details would likely have been missed.

You can read that? Qin Su was incredulous.

Years of practice, she replied. Before Lan Wangji, Jiang Yanli had been the only person who took A-Xian’s inventions seriously, the only person willing to sit and listen while he bounced from idea to idea, eventually solving the problem himself.

The average person would not think it necessary to puzzle out the text under a sketch of Lan Wangji holding a child, assuming it was a caption. When it was, in fact, an absolutely crucial detail. A detail that had made A-Xian conclude the Sacrifice Summon Array should never be used.

There were perhaps a dozen variations on the array. Most worked in a similar way to what Qin Su had intended, summoning a spirit to take the caster’s place. The earliest could not target a specific soul, but A-Xian had worked that out. Luckily, Qin Su had used one of those arrays, allowing Jiang Yanli to be summoned, rather than causing the closest vengeful spirits to battle for her body. The very last caused the caster’s body to be torn apart, and replaced with a copy of the spirit’s own.

But every version had two things in common: a call for revenge, and the destruction of the caster’s soul.

In her mind, Qin Su went perfectly still.

Jiang Yanli had a theory as to why Qin Su’s soul had not been consumed by the array. It had started the job, pulling Jiang Yanli in, but Qin Su had not asked for revenge, and so the array spat most of her back out. What the consequences were, for either of their spirits, she could not begin to guess.

There was a distinctive air of panic to Qin Su’s continued silence.

Qin Su, Jiang Yanli prodded, if this had worked the way it’s written, your soul would have been consumed by it. What could have been worth this?

I didn’t know about that. I didn’t want that.

It didn’t happen. You’re still here. She attempted to reassure Qin Su, wishing there was a way to mentally pat someone on the head. That had always helped calm both her brothers.

I’m still here. Whatever the fuck that means. Qin Su giggled nervously. That wasn’t very ladylike.

I think it’s forgivable, under the circumstances. Jiang Yanli raised a sleeve to cover her smile.

You don’t know the half of it. Qin Su sighed. I didn’t think things like this happened, outside of stories.

Jiang Yanli waited for her to go on, gritting her teeth in response to a wave of bitterness.

Only a few hours ago, I found out my so-called husband is my half-brother and he murdered our son. And now here we are.

Oh. Jiang Yanli could not so much as think of a reassuring response. What the fuck is correct.

“A-Su,” Jin Guangyao said from behind her, before Qin Su could say anything more. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

[missisjoker]

Stop Being Dead - chapter 1

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

Inspector Qiao Chusheng watches a wisp of steam curl up and disappear from the dark glossy liquid in his porcelain cup. After a century and a half of wondering, he finally settles on calling himself a vampire, just like a character in that book. It is highly inaccurate, but he is tired of searching for answers. He is not a ghoul, strigoi, bhuta, alukha or any other type of nasty flesh-eating corpses he has ever heard of or crossed paths with. He wasn’t cursed or pregnant when he died; his spirit did not possess some unfortunate body to wreak vengeance on the living; he wasn’t sacrificed to a demon;  he was murdered, yes, but so were the other 80 people in that trench and yet he was the only one who crawled back out.                                                                                                             

He thought of being a jiangshi, the reanimated corpse of a person who died far away from home, whose family then hired a sorcerer to bring the body to be buried using dark magic, but … he had neither a family to care for him nor a home to return to. The first creature he meets resembling himself is a rowdy Spanish sailor back in Singapore. Just like Chusheng, he is inhumanely strong, fast, didn’t age, doesn’t get sick, has accelerated healing and a taste for human blood.

Chusheng winces at a memory of the tear-inducing smell of rum and sweat and cigar smoke filling the pub they ended up in. The sailor was dumb enough to get caught pigshit drunk and cursing at the Lord during the height of Spanish inquisition. He was rotting in jail awaiting execution when his accusers dragged an old witch into the dungeon; they didn’t care what torments or sweet lies they had to employ on her, they only cared about the result- to make the hag give up an elixir that granted humans immortality. 

And so she did, and they tried it on him first, what a lucky break, and when he turned they rejoiced and drunk the stinking mix of witch’s blood and repugnant herbs themselves; but the witch laughed. She laughed when their skin started bulging and falling off in splotches exposing muscles underneath, when their bones broke and realigned into deformed shapes, when their eyes popped out of their sockets, pale and blood stricken, when their teeth protruded, cutting through lips and jaws, disfiguring their faces. She laughed even more when they completely lost control, when the Holy Crosses burned through their cloth and flesh so they had to rip them off their necks; when they ran loose through the monastery, driven mad by hunger, devouring their own brothers. She stopped laughing only when the first rays of sun lit up the hallways and the priests, or whatever was left of them, burst into flames and turned to ash. Then she staffed her pockets with all the silver she could find and winked the sailor a goodbye. Sorry, handsome. That is the last he’s seen of her.  

When Chusheng tells the sailor his story, the man frowns, 

“That’s some weird crap, man. You are so much like me, but so much not like me… ” 

But a second later a heavy arm lands on Chusheng’s shoulder and the sailor’s belly starts rocking with laughter. 

“But you know what? Who cares? May be there IS a reason why you ain’t dead. Maybe you have something – or someone – to be alive for. And I do wish with all my black and rotten heart one day you’ll find them. Let’s drink to that!”

Chusheng’s train of thought grinds to a halt when he hears Adou and Salim hurrying up the stairs.

“We’ve got the address.”

“Salim, start the car.”

“Yes, sir.”

Chusheng looks at already cold coffee. It is a nice thought, a hope that he is alive, or undead, because someone is waiting for him. But it’s been so long...and no one yet.

A ray of sunshine sneaks through the curtain, hits Chusheng in the eyes and he squints, smiling. Who knows, may be today is the day he finally meets them.

***

In retrospect, running from a bunch of policemen is not the brightest of Lu Yao’s ideas. In his defense though, he is slightly panicked. Just a little. You don’t wake up a man at the break of dawn and tell him before he had his cup of coffee that a bunch of constables are looking for him and expect him to behave like a proper gentleman. The resulting shenanigans earn Lu Yao a bloody nose and a good number of pushes and shoves from a pack of irritated men he just made run in circles on a very warm day.

He gets some quiet time in an interrogation room and uses it to rewind the events in his mind. It’s about the car, Lu Yao is certain of it since he doesn’t recall robbing or killing anyone recently, but what truly catches his interest is the inspector. The man is new on the job, it’s obvious by how he fidgets and fixes his uniform every other minute even though the thing fits his body like a glove.      But he is also not a newbie, not a spoiled rich kid put into position of power by a doting parent. He is strong, agile, calculating, calm and his voice does not waver when he gives out orders. His use of force is too precise for him to be a simple transfer; the nose is one of the body’s most delicate features and a man with such a muscle mass could’ve easily broken it but instead all Lu Yao got was a light tap that made his eyes water. And may be shed a drop of blood or two. Three at the maximum. That alone points to either military or criminal background, and Lu Yao twitches in anticipation, waiting for the interrogation to begin. He has a strategy laid out in his mind, a whole list of jabs he plans to unleash on the inspector to see how far he can push, which by itself is very strange, because Lu Yao is a cautious person and such a game can turn dangerous, if not deadly. But something in that man, something in those dark eyes of his makes Lu Yao’s self control fly right out of the prison window.

His strategy falls apart and shatters in less than a minute, a new personal record. It’s not even the audacity with which inspector accuses him of murder, how dare he, it’s the immunity to all and every tactics Lu Yao employs to push his buttons. Lu Yao brags about his superb education, expecting the man huff in irritation, but inspector nods in appreciation instead and suggests that Lu Yao might be a better fit for his position. Lu Yao takes inspector’s past apart, guessing accurately that he is in fact, a gangster- but inspector just smiles in amusement. It’s unnerving, it’s invigorating, and Lu Yao is at a total loss of what to do.

A girl reporter is an unwelcomed distraction. She’s rude and surprisingly violent but when Lu Yao daringly deduces that she is a spoiled rich kid and also an idiot, inspector laughs and the sound makes Lu Yao’s heart flutter. He’d like to hear more of it. How absolutely weird.

There is also the smell. A very faint, barely noticeable smell that is driving Lu Yao nuts. Lu Yao has always been very sensitive to smells and he can name every single cheap cologne and soap on every policeman in the precinct, as well as how far away the morgue is and how many times a prisoner threw up in the cell next door before the floor was washed, but this smell… it’s not perfume. It envelops him, slowly seeps into his pores, settles down into his blood. He thinks it might be a hallucination, with lack of sleep and adrenaline rush and all… but as the time goes by it does not disappear. It is intoxicating and almost makes Lu Yao tipsy. Perhaps inspector hit him harder than he realized?

Inspector.

***

When Chusheng watches Lu Yao’s hastily retreating form he shakes his head; the flailing noodle is certainly not the killer but the act of running away makes Chusheng’s monster itch for a hunt. The suspect might be able to outpace the policemen on those long and slender legs of his, but he will never outrun Chusheng.  

The chase is rather quick, just as Chusheng expects, he didn’t place his men on every escape route for nothing, and soon the man is brought before him. A bleeding nose is a small token of violence to satiate the monster inside but it is also a fair price to pay for protecting the man from being beaten by police on the way to the precinct. What does strike Chusheng as very odd is how bright the blue of the suspect’s robe is.

Mr. Lu Yao, the arrogant bastard, turns out to be a handful. Chusheng is fast to notice the obvious things like the doe eyes with long lashes, plump kissable lips, soft pale skin, thick hair he wants to run his fingers through, but also the quick wit and sharp intellect that proves to be a challenge. He is only three questions into interrogation when Lu Yao starts throwing his own provocative questions back. A murder charge throws him off his game a bit, and he suddenly starts bragging about his education. Chusheng chuckles to himself- if Lu Yao keeps up this shameless self-promotion, he won’t have a choice but to propose a courtship.

The man’s heartbeat is also too distracting. It’s not like the superhuman hearing does not allow Chusheng to hear everyone’s heartbeat at least within the precinct – it does, and  it’s never been a problem since he simply tunes it out,  but this man’s heartbeat is a little overwhelming. It is in the background, it echoes from the walls and ceiling, it’s in Chusheng’s ears, in his brain, even his bones can feel the rhythm. It’s so enthralling that Chusheng zones out and jumps in surprise when Adou hits the table with his baton.  

And then he hears her. A walking headache, stomping down the stairs on those high heels of hers, clack clack clack.

He finds other undead, vampires, or blood clans as they call themselves in a second decade of his after-life. They share similar traits - all strong, fast and brutal, and every single one of them turned by being bitten. They all pretend to be noble, but most treat humans like slaves or cattle. That’s something Chusheng just cannot stand and so, he never gets accepted into any of the clans.

Being an unaffiliated vampire has its benefits and problems. You are not controlled by any master’s whims and free to do whatever you want, but when you enter a new territory, you have to present yourself to a residing power and ask for permission to use the feeding grounds. And they have a right to ask for any services they choose in return.

Mr. Bai proves to be reasonable. He’s been turned late in his years and retains most of his human traits and habits. His offer to Chusheng to be his right-hand man and take the inspectors office to secure power against the British is logical and well thought through. His aversion to opium trade is even more commendable. It would’ve been a rather good and fruitful partnership if not for his daughter.  Bai Youning, young newly turned vampire with a total lack of self-control, is the apple of Mr. Bai’s eye and angel on his shoulder, a very mediocre tabloid journalist but also a murderer without remorse. Chusheng kills vampires like her without a second thought, but he is tired of endless fighting and he really likes Shanghai. So he decides to give the Bais a chance, which means tolerating Youning’s presence every so often.

She worms herself into the case and things immediately turn sour. Lu Yao correctly calls her a spoiled brat and idiot, and she launches at him with deadly gleam in her eyes. Chusheng is quick enough to make her back down but he knows it won’t be the last time.

And so decision is made, and he tricks Lu Yao into helping him with the case. Young man already has an alibi, but he doesn’t need to know that. At least, not yet.

An hour later, when Lu Yao oh so provocatively offers his pale wrists to Chusheng and tells him to arrest him, inspector has to bite his lip to stop himself from growling. The man has no idea that he is playing with fire. Chusheng knows that wanting Lu Yao is unwise, that he belongs in the shadows while Lu Yao belongs in the sunlight, and his monster whispering want and mine will only end in heartbreak, so he will not act on it. What he will do however, is stand between Lu Yao and the Bais. Youning has no regard for other people’s suffering and Old Bai does not care. Chusheng doesn’t want to start another war and wipe out another blood clan, but he has even less desire to see Lu Yao’s corpse sucked dry with throat ripped out while Mr. Bai just shrugs and tells his men to dispose of it, no punishment, no repercussion, because his daughter dearest is “still learning.”

Chusheng let it slide once, because the man was a peeping tom and a creep, but he will not let Bai Youning get away with it again. Not with Lu Yao. No matter how much she might want it.

Over her dead body.

***

Lu Yao makes his way down the stairs accompanied by cheers and applause. His eyes sting and he swallows hard, trying to keep it together. He knows he is not the most likeable person in the world, but this? He can never understand why is it so hard for people to just accept that yes, he is smarter than most of them, but he has his own faults too, that he is far from perfect, but can be a great ally and a loyal friend, if one would only ask.  His eyes water when he walks outside and he swears to himself that it’s just the bright sun and not the insult; the box with his meager possessions wights nothing  in his hands when he sees a blue car and the inspector. His temper flares for a second, why does the inspector keep bothering him still? As if the man and that blasted reporter of his haven’t done enough damage to the almost perfect life Lu Yao has so carefully built in Shanghai. Although, as it turns out, it wasn’t perfect at all.

“Mr. Lu, lost your job so soon?”

Lu Yao snaps, shoving the newspaper in inspectors face, “Your tabloid writing girlfriend called me a murderer! Mr Sassoon was so mad I was fired immediately.”  He goes on a rant and even threatens Bai Youning which is really out of his style, but he just had enough of it all.

“Let me remind you, talk whatever you want, but don’t do anything. Or your body will end up on the bottom of the Hangpu River”.

 The inspector’s voice is calm and even when he says it, and Lu Yao freezes for a moment. No, the threat itself is legitimate and he has no doubt that inspector can easily make it a reality, but something tells him… some tiny nagging voice inside his head whispers that the inspector is bluffing. Whatever… whoever this man is, for some stupid unexplainable reason Lu Yao knows he will never hurt him.

This pause apparently makes the inspector think he scared Lu Yao speechless, because a moment later a strong hand lands on Lu Yao’s and accidentally brushes over the soulmate scar, sending a shiver down Lu Yao’s spine.

“Help me handle cases. I’ll pay you a consultant’s fee.”

“Not interested.” 

Lu Yao shrugs the hand off but the warmth of skin on skin contact leaves a searing mark on his wrist, making the scar tingle. His pulse quickens and he is suddenly short of breath.

 “I don’t need to be forced to do what I don’t want to do.”

He walks away as Qiao Chusheng tells him his name, but stops exactly 38 steps later and almost faints when he sees it. A translucent thread the bright red color of blood, wrapped tightly around his right pinky. He turns around, slowly, following the string that floats in the air, curls and waves and suddenly disappears right where Chusheng stood just a moment ago. Lu Yao’s hands are shaking when he drops the box.

***

The following night is spent rummaging through the apartment in a desperate search for his old journal he kept since he was six. He doesn’t care about the chaos and devastation he brings upon his bedroom, it’s all forgotten as soon as a small leather notebook lands into his hand.

For years Lu Yao spent his free time looking for answers, collecting lore and legends and ideas until two years back in Chembridge one of his professors suggested that perhaps, it was a time to stop. But now? The string? It wasn’t a hallucination. It wasn’t a trick his mind or eyes could play on him, no, he saw it, and it meant something.

There’s a lot of general blabber about soulmates and signs that someone’s destined love is near – a hightened sense of taste, smell, eyesight, brighter colors, skin contact that feels like sparks, rapid heart beat, shared dreams, non-verbal communication, feeling of belonging and possessiveness... But only one page about the red thread of fate. And half of it smudged by a stain of old spilled tea. Lu Yao almost cries when he sees the letters blend together into a messy indistinguishable splash of ink, it’s like a cruel joke, after all those years.

But at least he can decipher one thing - seeing the read thread of fate means destiny is giving you another chance to reconnect with your one true love. Sometimes, even if one soulmate is dead or if the pair is somehow separated and even if their marks turn black and scar and disappear but they still belong with each other, the Heavens create a thread of fate - a red string that wraps tightly around each person’s finger and slowly brings them back together, transcending time, and space and even death.

Whoever the thread is trying to bring Lu Yao to must be close, and Qiao Chusheng must be the key to finding them.

Come morning, Lu Yao is hihg on coffee and adrenaline and ready to swallow his pride and ask Lao Qiao for a job; may be even grovel.

He’s graciously saved from all of it because the inspector invites himself into Lu Yao’s apartment right before Lu Yao is done with his breakfast.

“You should lock your doors.”

“How did you know where I live?”

Chusheng tilts his head and Lu Yao sputters, ‘Oh yes, that’s right. What do you want?”

“There is a case that requires your help.”

“Sorry, I don’t have time.”

“So busy.”

Lu Yao curses at himself, what’s gotten into him, as if inspector’s mere presence makes him so irrational he doesn’t recognize himself. He takes a long breath and allows himself to be convinced into accepting the job he so desperately wants.

The red thread is nowhere to be seen, but Lu Yao is optimistic – it might show itself again at any moment, or never at all, but it doesn’t really matter, because now Lu Yao knows that it’s there, and it  is enough. He will follow it wherever it leads, his soulmate will just have to wait a little longer.

“I don’t have all day!” Chusheng’s voice echoes from downstairs, and Lu Yao heads for the exit.

He steals a farewell bite of breakfast ham and almost chokes when the taste explodes in his mouth.

***

After a day of work, Lu Yao practically demands Chusheng to feed him. He needs to make sure the morning revelation was not a fluke, that he does not have a brain tumor and is not imagining things, but thanks to Bai Youning he now has no stream of income to indulge in culinary experiments. Naturally,  if the inspector plans to use Lu Yao’s precious brain power, it is fair and logical that he might as well be supporting it by any means including dinners.

It’s a small noodle place not far from the precinct; the food is cheap, the floors are clean and Lu Yao doesn’t feel like going farther since the taste of any food has been pretty much the same bland uncooked dough-like mass since he was born.  But when he takes the first sip, the myriad of different notes hit his senses. He can… tell between a hearty warmth of the pork broth, and starchy sweetness of the noodle, and the spices, and even the earthy touch of ground peanut. That never happened before, and he eats like he’s been starving his whole life.

Chusheng watches with amusement as LY stuffs his mouth with a spoon full of dumplings. 

“How do you even fit all that in you?”

“It spreads evenly through my height. As a growing organism, I need sustenance.”

“At your age the only direction you are growing is width.”

Lu Yao opens his mouth in indignation and almost loses half of a dumpling,    “As if you survive on photosynthesis.”

“Sunshine and water? No, I prefer the blood of my enemies.” 

Chusheng flashes him a quick smile and Lu Yao  blinks back at him, twice.

“You know what photosynthesis is?”

“I can read, San Tu. I can write too. Impressive, isn’t it.”

“Well, try it then, it’s a great pork wonton soup, come on,” – Lu Yao shamelessly shoves a spoon in Chusheng’s face and Chusheng bites down an urge to scold him.

“I think I’ll pass.”

Lu Yao still manages to sneak a tightly wrapped fried bun into Chusheng’s pocket on their way out.

When Chusheng returns to the office, he considers throwing it out, he has no taste or need for it anyway, but in the end decides to give it a try, just for the laughs. He paid for the dinner after all.

He doesn’t laugh when the familiar blandness of food suddenly turns into a mosaic of juicy meat, spices, salt, ginger and sesame oil.

[fuyonggu]

SGZ 18: Pang De

Why not.

龐德字令明，南安狟道人也。少為郡吏州從事。初平中，從馬騰擊反羌叛氐。數有功，稍遷至校尉。建安中，太祖討袁譚、尚於黎陽，譚遣郭援、高幹等略取河東，太祖使鍾繇率關中諸將討之。德隨騰子超拒援、幹於平陽，德為軍鋒，進攻援、幹，大破之，親斬援首。〈《魏略》曰：德手斬一級，不知是援。戰罷之後，眾人皆言援死而不得其首。援，鍾繇之甥。德晚後於鞬中出一頭，繇見之而哭。德謝繇，繇曰：「援雖我甥，乃國賊也。卿何謝之？」〉拜中郎將，封都亭侯。後張白騎叛於弘農，德復隨騰徵之，破白騎於兩殽間。每戰，常陷陳卻敵，勇冠騰軍。後騰徵為衛尉，德留屬超。太祖破超於渭南，德隨超亡入漢陽，保冀城。後復隨超奔漢中，從張魯。太祖定漢中，德隨眾降。太祖素聞其驍勇，拜立義將軍，封關門亭侯，邑三百戶。

Pang De, styled Lingming, was a native of Huandao county (listed as 獂道 Yuandao county in the Geographical Records of the Book of Jin) in Nan'an commandary (in Qinzhou/Yongzhou). As a youth, he was employed as a minor official in Nan'an commandary and then as an Attendant Officer in the province.

At the beginning of the Chuping era (~190), Pang De accompanied Ma Teng during his campaign against rebelling Qiang and Di peoples. He performed many deeds, and was eventually promoted to be a Colonel.

During the Jian'an era, when Cao Cao was campaigning against Yuan Tan and Yuan Shang at Liyang (202), Yuan Tan sent Guo Yuan, Gao Gan, and others to raid through Hedong commandary. Cao Cao had Zhong Yao lead the armies stationed in Guanzhong to campaign against this thrust. Pang De accompanied Ma Teng's son Ma Chao on this campaign; they opposed Guo Yuan and Gao Gan at Pingyang, where Pang De served in the vanguard. They advanced and attacked Guo Yuan and Gao Gan, greatly routing them, and Pang De personally took Guo Yuan's head. Pang De was appointed as General of the Household Gentlemen and Marquis of a capital district.

(The Weilue states, "Pang De personally took the head of an officer, but he did not know that it was Guo Yuan. After the battle was over, the soldiers of Zhong Yao's army reported that Guo Yuan was dead, but his head was missing. Guo Yuan happened to be Zhong Yao's nephew. Pang De later returned, and pulled out from his quiver the head he had taken. When Zhong Yao recognized it as Guo Yuan, he burst into tears. Pang De apologized to him, but Zhong Yao replied, 'Guo Yuan may have been my nephew, but he was an enemy of the state. Sir, what do you have to apologize about?'")

Later, when White Rider Zhang (Zhang Cheng) rebelled at Hongnong, Pang De once again accompanied Ma Teng on campaign against him. They routed White Rider Zhang at Liangxiao Canyon. In every battle, Pang De was always breaking through the enemy's formation and pushing back the enemy, and his courage surpassed anyone else in Ma Teng's army.

Later, when Ma Teng was summoned to the capital to serve as Commandant of the Guards, Pang De was left behind under Ma Chao's command. When Cao Cao routed Ma Chao south of the Wei River (in 211), Pang De followed Ma Chao to flee into Hanyang and hold out at Jicheng. Later, he further accompanied Ma Chao to flee to Hanzhong, where they took service under Zhang Lu. When Cao Cao conquered Hanzhong (in 215), Pang De surrendered to him along with the rest of Zhang Lu's forces. Cao Cao had heard many stories about Pang De's ferocity and boldness, so he appointed him as his General Who Founds Righteousness and as Marquis of Guanmen Village, with a fief of three hundred households.

戰罷，衆人皆言援死而不得其首。援，繇之甥也。晚後，馬超校尉南安龐德，於鞬中出一頭，繇見之而哭。德謝繇，繇曰：「援雖我甥，乃國賊也，卿何謝之有！」

When the fighting was over the men of the army all said Guo Yuan was dead, but they could not find his head. Guo Yuan was a nephew of Zhong Yao. After dark, Pang De of Nan'an, a Colonel under Ma Chao, brought out a head from his quiver. Zhong Yao saw it and wept. Pang De apologised to Zhong Yao, but Zhong Yao replied "Guo Yuan was my nephew, but he was also an enemy of the state. Why apologise?" [ZZTJ 202.G in de Crespigny’s To Establish Peace]

程銀、侯選、龐惪皆隨魯降。魏公操復銀、選官爵，拜惪立義將軍。〈程銀、侯選，關中部帥也；龐惪，馬超將也：渭南、冀城之敗，皆奔張魯。惪，古德字。〉

Cheng Yin, Hou Xuan and Pang De all came with Zhang Lu to surrender. Duke Cao of WEI restored Cheng Yin and Hou Xuan to official rank, and appointed Pang De as General Who Supports Righteousness.

(Cheng Yin and Hou Xuan were leaders of local forces in Guanzhong. Pang De had been a general under Ma Chao. After the defeats south of the Wei River and at Jicheng, all of these people had fled to Zhang Lu. Pang De's given name is written in this passage as 惪, which is an old version of 德 De.) [ZZTJ 215.Q in de Crespigny's To Establish Peace]

侯音、衛開等以宛叛，德將所領與曹仁共攻拔宛，斬音、開，遂南屯樊，討關羽。樊下諸將以德兄在漢中，頗疑之。〈《魏略》曰：德從兄名柔，時在蜀。〉德常曰：「我受國恩，義在效死。我欲身自擊羽。今年我不殺羽，羽當殺我。」後親與羽交戰，射羽中額。時德常乘白馬，羽軍謂之白馬將軍，皆憚之。仁使德屯樊北十里，會天霖雨十餘日，漢水暴溢，樊下平地五六丈，德與諸將避水上堤。羽乘船攻之，以大船四面射堤上。德被甲持弓，箭不虛發。將軍董衡、部曲將董超等欲降，德皆收斬之。自平旦力戰至日過中，羽攻益急，矢盡，短兵接戰。德謂督將成何曰：「吾聞良將不怯死以苟免，烈士不毀節以求生，今日，我死日也。」戰益怒，氣愈壯，而水浸盛，吏士皆降。德與麾下將一人，五伯二人，彎弓傅矢，乘小船欲還仁營。水盛船覆，失弓矢，獨抱船覆水中，為羽所得，立而不跪。羽謂曰：「卿兄在漢中，我欲以卿為將，不早降何為？」德罵羽曰：「竪子，何謂降也！魏王帶甲百萬，威振天下。汝劉備庸才耳，豈能敵邪！我寧為國家鬼，不為賊將也。」遂為羽所殺。太祖聞而悲之，為之流涕，封其二子為列侯。

When Hou Yin, Wei Kai, and others rebelled at Wan (218-219), Pang De led his forces to join with Cao Ren; they attacked Wan together and retook it, taking the heads of Hou Yin and Wei Kai.

Pang De then marched south to camp at Fan, where he campaigned against Guan Yu. The other generals at Fan were inclined to be suspicious of Pang De, since his elder brother was at Hanzhong (in service to Liu Bei). But Pang De often said, "I have received the grace of the state, and it would be fighting for me to redeem myself through death. I wish to personally lead the attack against Guan Yu. This very year, either I will slay Guan Yu or he will slay me."

(The Weilue states, "Pang De's cousin, named Pang Rou, was then serving in Shu.")

Later, Pang De personally fought Guan Yu in the heat of battle and struck him in the forehead with an arrow. At the time, Pang De often road a white horse, so the soldiers of Guan Yu's army called him the White Horse General, and they all dreaded him.

Cao Ren had Pang De camp ten li north of Fan. But around that time, a terrible storm broke out, lasting for more than ten days; the Han River suddenly flooded, and the water at Fan rose five or six zhang above the ground. Pang De and the other generals went up on a dyke to get away from the water. But Guan Yu took advantage of the flooding by leading boats to attack them, and he led large ships to surround the dyke and shoot arrows at them from all sides. Pang De put on his armor and grasped his bow to shoot back at them, and every arrow he loosed at the enemy struck true. When the general Dong Heng, the subordinate commander Dong Chao, and others wanted to surrender, Pang De arrested and beheaded them. Pang De kept up the fight from the break of dawn to past noon, fighting hard all the while. But Guan Yu's troops greatly pressed their attack, and when they ran out of arrows, their drew their short blades and closed in for close combat. Pang De said to his subordinate general Cheng He, "I have always heard that a superior general will stand tall in the face of death rather than try to escape, and a martyr will uphold his duty to the bitter end rather than try to save his life. This day will be the day of my death." So his rage kept him going in battle, and his zeal made him stronger. But the floodwaters only became worse, and most of Pang De's officers and soldiers surrendered to the enemy. Pang De led one of his subordinate generals and two of his 五伯s to take bows and arrows with them and get into a small boat, planning to return to Cao Ren's camp. But the floodwaters were so turbulent that the boat capsized; they lost the bows and arrows, and they could only cling to the overturned boat in the midst of the waters. They were captured by Guan Yu.

Pang De stood before Guan Yu and refused to kneel to him. Guan Yu said to him, "Your elder brother is at Hanzhong, and I would like to have you as my own general. Why didn't you surrender earlier?"

But Pang De only denounced Guan Yu, telling him, "You whelp, how can you propose I surrender? The Prince of Wei (Cao Cao) commands an army of a million armored soldiers, and his might stretches across the realm. Your Liu Bei is just some mediocrity; how could he be a match for the Prince? I'd rather be a ghost of my state than serve as a bandit general."

So Guan Yu killed him. When Cao Cao heard that Pang De was dead, he mourned and wept for him, and he appointed two of Pang De's sons as minor Marquises.

仁使左將軍于禁、立義將軍龐德等屯樊北。八月，大霖雨，漢水溢，平地數丈，于禁等七軍皆沒。禁與諸將登高避水，羽乘大船就攻之，禁等窮迫，遂降。龐德在隄上，被甲持弓，箭不虛發，自平旦力戰，至日過中，羽攻益急；矢盡，短兵接，德戰益怒，氣愈壯，而水浸盛，吏士盡降。德乘小船欲還仁營，水盛船覆，失弓矢，獨抱船覆水中，爲羽所得，立而不跪。羽謂曰：「卿兄在漢中，我欲以卿爲將，不早降何爲！」德罵羽曰：「豎子，何謂降也！魏王帶甲百萬，威振天下；汝劉備庸才耳，豈能敵邪！我寧爲國家鬼，不爲賊將也！」羽殺之。魏王操聞之曰：「吾知于禁三十年，何意臨危處難，反不及龐德邪！」封德二子爲列侯。

Cao Ren stationed the General of the Left Yu Jin with the General Who Supports Righteousness Pang De and others in camps north of Fan.

In the eighth month there were great rains, the Han River broke its banks and the whole plain was covered by water scores of feet deep. Seven armies under Yu Jin and his colleagues were flooded out. Yu Jin and his men climbed high ground to avoid the water, and Guan Yu's soldiers sailed in great ships to attack them. Utterly exhausted, Yu Jin and his followers surrendered.

Pang De was on an embankment. He wore armour and held a bow, and he hit his mark with every shot, maintaining resistance from morning past midday. Guan Yu attacked more and more fiercely, and Pang De's arrows were exhausted, but he continued the struggle hand to hand. Even as the flood continued to rise, Pang De fought on unafraid, but all his men surrendered. Then Pang De took a small boat to go back to Cao Ren's camp, but the water rose still further, and his boat overturned. Having lost his weapons, he held on to the upturned boat alone amongst the waves, and he was captured by Guan Yu.

Pang De carried himself straight and would not bow. Guan Yu said to him, "You have a cousin in Hanzhong, and I should be pleased to have you as one of my officers. Why did you not surrender sooner?"

"Slave," snarled Pang De, "what is this talk of surrender? The King of WEI commands a million men in arms, and his authority shakes the empire. Your Liu Bei is nothing special; how can he match my master? I would rather be a martyr for my state than a leader of rebels." Guan Yu killed him.

When King Cao of WEI heard of this, he said, "I knew Yu Jin for thirty years, and I never believed that when danger came he would show himself inferior to Pang De." He enfeoffed Pang De's two sons as marquises. [ZZTJ 219.O in de Crespigny's To Establish Peace]

文帝即王位，乃遣使就德墓賜謚，策曰：「昔先軫喪元，王蠋絕脰，隕身徇節，前代美之。惟侯式昭果毅，蹈難成名，聲溢當時，義高在昔，寡人愍焉，謚曰壯侯。」又賜子會等四人爵關內侯，邑各百戶。會勇烈有父風，官至中尉將軍，封列侯。〈王隱《蜀記》曰：鍾會平蜀，前後鼓吹，迎德屍喪還葬鄴，冢中身首如生。臣松之案德死於樊城，文帝即位，又遣使至德墓所，則其屍喪不應在蜀。此王隱之虛說也。〉

After Cao Pi succeeded Cao Cao as Prince of Wei, he sent envoys to visit Pang De's tomb to award him with a posthumous name. The edict stated, "In ancient times, Xian Zhen of Jin died at the head of his army and Wang Zhu of Qi hanged himself rather than serve another master; they gave up their lives in order to uphold their duty, and past ages praised them for it. The late Marquis was useful and bright, stalwart and resolute, and he gained his reputation through facing difficulty head-on. All the world knows of his name, and his sense of righteousness surpasses even the ancients. How greatly do I mourn his loss! He is hereby granted the posthumous name Marquis Zhuang ('the Strong')." 

He also appointed Pang De's four sons, including Pang Hui, as Marquises Within The Passes, each with a fief of a hundred households. This Pang Hui was bold and fierce, possessing the same spirit as his father, and he rose in office as high as General of the Household Guards and a minor Marquis.

(Wang Yin's Records of Shu states, "When Zhong Hui was conquering the Shu region, his armies all beat the drums in procession as they escorted Pang De's body back to Ye. And when they opened his tomb, Pang De's body and head both looked as lively as though he had not died."

But I (Pei Songzhi) note that Fan was the place where Pang De died, and when Cao Pi rose to the throne, he was even able to send envoys to visit Pang De's grave. So his burial place could not have been within Shu. This is just one of Wang Yin's empty tales.)

龐德授命叱敵，有周苛之節。

Chen Shou's Comment: Pang De carried out his mission to the end and rebuked his enemy to his face. When it came to keeping faith, he was the equal of Zhou Ke (one of Liu Bang's generals who died rather than surrender to Xiang Yu).

[bookofjin]

Biographies of four scholars

[Four short biographies from JS091]

Liu Zhao, courtesy name Yanshi, was a native of Dongping in Ji'nan. He was a descendant of Han's King Hui of Guangchuan. Zhao was broadly studied and generally knowledgeable. He was temperate, sincere and good at persuading. Those who followed and accepted his teachings numbered several thousand people. In the time of Emperor Wu he was five times nominated to the Excellencies' offices, and three times summoned as a Broad Scholar. Every time he did not go. He was content with little and delighted in the Way, immersing his heart writings and compilations. He did not set out from the courtyard of his gates for several tens of years.

He considered the Spring and Autumn the singular classic and the three schools different routes. The various Ruists' opinions on the approved and disapproved were confused, and they were mutual enemies and foes [?]. He therefore pondered the differences of the three schools, combined and then communicated them.

The Rites of Zhou has the office of Mediator. He made Mediators of Spring and Autumn in more than 70 000 words, everything was discussed from their beginning to end, making great and righteous without inconsistency. For those who at the time had not joined together, he exposed their strong and weak points to thereby communicate them.

He also made an explanation to the Spring and Autumn with Mr. Zuo, named the Whole Headle-Shaft. The Gongyang and Guliang's explanations and glosses were all entered into the middle of the  classic and commentary, a vermilion [?] book accordingly separated them.

He also compiled Glosses and Annotations to the Changes of Zhou. He used the principal acts and the two kinds [?] to mutually communicate his writings. Altogether the helpful descriptions by him were more than 1 000 000 words.

There once was a person wearing boots and riding a donkey who arrived outside of Zhao's gates, and said:

I wish to see Liu Yanshi.

Zhao was Ruist with righteous way and integrity [?]. In Qing province nobody called him by his courtesy name, and the gate keeper [or “disciples”?] was very angry. Zhao said:

Listen before. [?]

When he had advanced, he squatted at the dais and asked Zhao, saying:

[I] have heard you Lord is a great knowledgeable. When comparing, how to compose it? [?]

Zhao replied like in the above affairs, and finally stated:

There is much which is uncertain.

The guest asked about them. Zhao discussed the uncertainties to the last one. The guest said:

These are easy to explain, that is all.

Following that [they] were disputing analysing the uncertainties, approving and disapproving and that was all. Zhao separately once more set up [his] opinions. [If?] the guest [found?] a single difficulty, Zhao was not able to answer. The guest left. He had already set out from the gates when Zhao desired to stop him. He sent people to loudly shout for him to come back. The guest said:

My relatives [or “parents”] are buried in this district. [I] ought to attend to them, afterwards I will come back again.

When he had left, Zhao ordered people to look in the burial place, but they did not see this guest. In the end he did not know his family or name.

Zhao passed on at the age of 66. He had five sons, Zhuio, Zhao#, Yao, Yu and Qi.

Fan Yu, courtesy name Zhichun, was a native of Lu in Jibei. For a number of generations [his ancestors] were Ruists with integrity, generous and friendly with the nine tribes. They travelled to stay in Qing province, extending until Yu for seven generations. At the time people nicknamed his family “boys without ordinary fathers, robes without regular masters”. Yu as young walked with lofty commitment, content with impoverishment and having aspirations for scholarship. When his father came to an end, he stayed at the burial place for more than 30 years. At the last and first day of the month, he personally swept tomb mound and went around the fencing trees. He returned to his family and then did not set out from the courtyard of his gates.

Someone recommended him to Emperor Wu. He was summoned to the vacancy of Literary Scholar to the King of Nanyang, Gentleman of the Private Writers, and Army Advisor to the Grand Tutor.. Every time he did not go. At that time in the lands of Qing, the scholars who hid and evaded [office], Liu Zhao, Xu Mao and others, all strove to teach and transmit. Only Yu dud not gather retainers, he was pure and serene, and protected himself.

At the time those who were fond of the ancient and longed for virtue discussed and consulted. [he?] likewise poured out [his] deepest feelings [?], using a single niche to display it. He combined the explanations and annotations of the Three Traditions, and compiled Spring and Autumn, Analysing Uncertainties, and Essay on Corporeal Punishment. Everything thus described made for more than 70 000 words. He combined the explanations and annotations of the Three Traditions, and compiled Spring and Autumn, Analysing Uncertainties, and Essay on Corporeal Punishment. Everything thus described made for more than 70 000 words. He passed on at the age of 71.

Xu Miao, courtesy name Shuzhou, was a native of Chunyu in Gaomi. For several generations they supported and assisted, always as Broad Scholars becoming commandery wardens [?].

His great grandfather Hua was extremely accomplished. He once stayed overnight at a precinct house. At night there was a divine person who told him the precinct was on the verge of collapsing. He at once set out and managed to escape. His father Shao was Wei's Gentleman of the Masters of Writing, and saw recognition for his upright straightness.

When Miao was young the family was impoverished. In daytime he held the hoe and low, at night he recited and chanted. As a youth, he and his younger brother Jia went to the Broad Scholar Song Jun of Ji'nan,  to receive learning, thereupon they became a clan of Ruists. He made Five Classics, Similar and Different Appraisals, and also relied on the school of the Way to put forth an Essay on the Obscure and Imperceptible. From beginning to end they made for several ten thousand words, everything had an appropriate flavour.

He was by nature intractable and zealous, he made light of wealth and valued righteousness, combined with having a perception for understanding people. His younger brother suffered from a mouth abscess, festering with pus. Miao sucked it [out?]. His brothers all perished young, he consoled and reared their orphans left behind. His charity and love was heard in the province' villages, the fields and residences' slaves and servant girls fully pushed with him [?]. When someone who had died in the neighbourhood, he readily halted ploughing to help with building the inner and other coffins. When a disciple deceased in the family, he immediately prepared the body for the funeral in the discussion hall. His personal acts were pure and extreme, of a kind always like this. Distant and near all resorted to his righteousness, and learned from his actions.

The commandery examined him as Filial and Upright. The province nominated him as Assistant Officer, [Assistant Officer for] Headquarters], [Assistant Officer with] Separate Carriage, recommending him as Specially Accomplished, the Excellencies' Offices five times nominated him Broad Scholar, and he was twice summoned. Every time he did not go.

In the times of Wu and Hui when the Reporting Officer arrived at the palace, the Emperor always inquired if he was at ease or not. In the 2nd Year of Yongning [302 AD], he passed on. His testamentary instructions were to wash his headscarf and launder his robes, elm tree coffin and mixed bricks, an open chariot to transport the corpse, reed mats and earthenware receptacles, and that was all.

Cui You, courtesy name Zixiang, was a native Shangdang. As young he was fond of studying, he was discerning and enlightened in the Ruist methods, tranquil, peaceful, humble and withdrawn. From young to old his mouth not once spoke about wealth and profit. At the end of Wei, he was examined as Filial and Upright, and appointed Retainer of the Chancellor's Office. He set out to be Chief of Dichi, he was very kind in government affairs. He retired due to illness, and thereupon was disabled and sick.

At the beginning of Taishi [265 – 274], Emperor Wu favoured the succession [?] from Emperor Wen's old office companions and staff, and attended on the family to designate a Palace Gentleman. Aged more than 70, he still esteemed studying and did not tire. He compiled a Chart of Mouring Clothes, which has come down through the ages. When Liu Yuanhai usurped the throne, he instructed him to be Imperial Clerk Grandee. He firmly declined and did not go. He passed on at home, at the time he was 93 years old.

Fan Long, courtesy name Songyan, was a native of Yanmen. His father Fang was Wei's Grand Warden of Yanmen. The pregnancy for Long lasted 15 months. When he was born then his deceased. At the age of 4 sui, he also mourned his father. The sound of his mournful shouts moved to anguish the travellers on the road. A lonely orphan, he had no relatives in mourning [?]. His distant clansman Fan Guang pitied and reared him. He received him [as if?] coming home, and taught him books, and had erected a sacrificial hall. Long was fond of studying and cultivated prudence, he served Guang like a father.

He had a broad and comprehensive understanding of the classics and records, overlooking nothing [?]. He put forth Spring and Autumn, Three Traditions, and compiled Three Rites, Good and Evil [in] the Ancestral Records, they considerably were ordering righteousness [?].

In the time of Emperor Hui, Under Heaven was about to be chaotic. Long hid his traces and did not obey the instructions of the province or commandery. In daytime he industriously ploughed and sowed, at night he recited the books and canons. He was quite versed in the esoteric calendar's teachings of yin and yang, and knew Bing province was about to have omens of vapours and malign auras. For that reason he more and more did not again set out to serve.

He was good friends with Zhu Ji of Shangdang. Once he wandered the mountains together with Ji. They saw an old man at the banks of a spent [?] mountain brook. The old man said:

You two Dukes, why are [you] at this place?

Long and others bowed to him. When they raised their heads to look at him, they no longer saw him. Later he and Ji depended on Liu Yuanhai. Yuanhai used Long as Great Herald and Ji as Grand Master of Ceremonies, both were enfeoffed as Dukes. Long died in the reign of Liu Cong. Cong bestowed Grand Teacher.

[shinobi98]

I'vee written this from episode 29 through 32-ish and I want to dump a quick review of what I think of the characters at this point. Just for the lols for when I finish the show and I find I was completely wrong on most of them! Im using a compiled list on Google drive for the characters, so following that order they are split into clans.

Here we go.

Wei Wuxian. I really liked him at the beginning (what a funny cinnamon roll) but ever since he went missing into Burial Grounds I'm not sure...I see his points -especially when he criticised the Jins and stood up for the Wens- , but I can't believe he doesn't see he's being corrupted. Like come on. Just let the others help you for once, this is just looking for troubles. On thin ice. Used to be 9/10

Lan Zhan. Didn't like him much - or at all - when he was introduced in Clouds Recessess. I thought he was a stick in the mud and I wasn't too fond of him. He's missing for good chunks of the story. As my opinion of WWX deteriorated, I like him more or more because he's the one making sense out of the two, this gets him a passing score, even if barely. 6/10

Jian Cheng. He was my sweet sweet baby. Unparalleled sibling energy with WWX, cute angsty ship with Wen Qing, likable personality, the drama with the core. He had it all. But at some point...I don't know man. I just don't agree with anything he says anymore, and he's just becoming more and more sulky about his inferiority complex as a Clan Leader. I feel that, not counting the 16 years later part I didn't watch yet, he should get the title of co-protagonist rather than Wangji, since he's much more involved in the plot. Used to be a 8/10, still pending.

Jian Yanli. I like her. I feel like a dumb ass for getting attached and only remembering halfway through the flashback part that she's going to die, as per the first few episodes. I'm hating every second of it, like why killing her when the show is full of unpleasant people? Poor Li. Also the ship is a big plus. This kind of drama is just *chef kiss*- (and edit: after I watched the last episode of the night and she died...it's fine I'm not crying.) 8/10

Jian Fengmian. I don't really care much about him one way or the other. A little whipped by his wife - not that it is bad per se, but she really is bad so - , didn't particularly like that he favored WWX over JC. I think he could have been better, but he was pretty decent. 7/10

Madame Yu. No. 1/10

Lan Zichen. Possibly the last dude I 100% trust in this show not to let me down - as long as he isn't influenced too much by Mang Yao. I like him in a sort of uninvolved way. Don't look forward to see him on screen, don't wonder where he is or what he is doing, pleased when he shows up and does his sensible thing and then disappears again. Kept me on my toes after he escaped from Could Recesses though, but really took him so long to come back I almost forgot I was worrying about him. Way to go Zichen. 7/10

Lan Qiren. He's alright? I don't care much. Pretty dope when he took a stand against the Wans when they attacked, but I find him to be a little too much sometimes. 6/10

The files lists some juniors I haven't seen yet. They seem baby? Cute. I assume they are going to be so-and-so 's children, like in a Boruto way. Looking forward to see all the characters paired up.

Jin Guangshan. I thought he was annoying because he had a bunch of illegitimate children that I lost track of but then he became even more annoying with his very transparent power grab -and the fact that no one seems concerned is baffling to me. Overall I think I would have pretty much liked it more if the son Zixuan was clan leader and we didn't have to deal with this piece of work. 2/10

Jin Zixuan. As I was writing this post this man went through all sort of things. From proposing to having a child to being murdered. Honestly, we didn't start off the right foot when he booked the inn where WWX & co wanted to stay. I kept wishing he would kick the bucket because I hated how he treated Yanli, and I thought he would wind up to be a minor villain...while it seems he was the only normal member of his family. I feel bad for hating him so much. 8/10.

Jin Ling. Biggest reason why I thought his dad would be a bad guy. For the first part, I thought the Jins would be the villains because of him, and not the Wens, though in the end I wasn't that off the mark in a sense. He was just a cartoonish villain. I have yet to see him again after the flashback part, but his first introduction was awful. 3/10

Meng Yao. So the thing is, I was really partial towards him at the beginning. The bit at Cloud Recesses? The part with the Nie family? Perfect. Felt so bad for how everyone treated him. I started to excuse what he was doing like "it's ok, the head of guards is a dick to him" "it's okay he was double crossing the bad guys eheh" "it's ok he is...murdering civilians?" But seriously he let me down so hard. Also his face looks so different I didn't recognise him at first. At the beginning I thought I could maybe have a cute ship with Zichen but to tell the truth I don't want Meng Yao anywhere near him now. I seriously thought he wanted to murder infant Jin Ling at some point there to climb the ladder and become Clan Leader. I'm sure he set WWX up and schemed to murder the last dregs of the Wens and Zixuan. 1/10

Jin Zixun. Pretty inconsequential. Could have done with him imo. I'm only including him because I love when WWX goes "I don't even know who you are" like three times and that's a mood because where the heck did he come from.

Mo Xuanyu. I don't get why he looks like WWX. I sort understand why they used the same actor but story-wise I don't understand. How can random people look at him and recognise WWX? Also, he is kinda stupid for giving up his life to be possessed by a bad guy to get revenge but whatever floats your boat I guess. 4/10

Nie Mingjue. I don't care much for him. He bullies his brother too much and his short temper is annoying even though often justified. I thought I could kinda always rely on him to be the voice of reason despite not liking his character but then he said the stupidest thing in the show "I'm not sitting on that chair" and left it to the Jin Sect Leader...look how that worked out. Love how he basically disappeared after that, I think because he knew he screwed up big time (jk). 6/10

Nie Huaisang. Funny. Definetly underused. I hoped he would be part of the main gang. When he stopped showing up, the show took a terrible turn in its atmosphere. Please come back as sect leader in the 16 years later part (I mean, who else is there? I hope he didn't die in the meantime because he isn't showing up in this final battle). I wish I saw him swing a sword at the least once but alas. 7/10.

Wen Ruohan. I mean. What can you expect. Typical bad guy sitting on top of a lava pond that controls zombies. Wasn't expecting much development from his character and he surely didn't deliver. A good 2-dimensional bad guy to kill without thinking too hard about anything I guess. Awful person tho. 4/10

Wen Xu. I didn't even realize there were two young Wens. I thought he was his brother at first, but without the spice. Literally why was he there. 4/10

Wen Chao. He sucks, don't get me wrong. But watching him coming up with all sorts of awful things is very entertaining. 2/10 as a person, 9/10 as a villain. Cheered when he died.

Wen Lingjiao. Same as her lover, but more annoying because she got on my nerves sometimes. I was so glad when she got it. The (1) good thing coming out of WWX's corruption. 2/10

Wen Zhuliu. I really want to know what drove him to serve Chao with such devotion. His technique was kinda cool. I think he would have been an okay guy but sadly he associated with Chao. 4/10

Wen Ning. I thought "No, poor Ning is dead" ten times already and still counting. Please WWX just let him die. He is/was just a sweetheart and I loved him with all my heart. His death and everything that came after it filled me with rage, when i thought he died I was brokenhearted, and the fact that he gets blamed for killing people when it's arguably WWX's fault is so unfair. We didn't deserve Wen Ning. I don't really like that he became the Ghost General tho. 10/10

Wen Qing. I liked her. Same as her brother, how their story ended up upset me. I hoped they would get to live peacefully in their commune in the woods. That part of the story was *chef kiss*. The romance with JC lacked closure imo but I understand that they both had things going on and they would need to stretch the story too much to get the together or at the least talk about their feelings. I hoped till the end she wouldn't be killed because I knew Ning came bad 16 years later, so they must have avoided being executed, but more realistically I guess he's just a zombie and she's just dead. I lowkey shipped her with WWX though I feel this would be an unpopular opinion in the fandom -when I learned WWX has a different endgame ship I was kinda bummed sorry. I thought we would get a sort of love triangles with JC, I can't say I'm disappointed because it would have been a terrible plot. They really have a good platonic relationship, I loved to see them build that village. 8/10

Song Lan/ Xiao Xingchen / Xue Yang. What's the deal with them? They seemed to be set up to come back but only Song Lan does a passing appearance. Are they coming back? What was their significance? So weird because the untamed usually doesn't introduce characters to just drop them when the episode's over.

[vinzha-vz]

Tagged by @florbe-triz (I died many good deaths when I saw this notification so I don't really care if you guys hate this type of thing a god tagged me and I'm doing it now no matter what.)

a - age: 16 (a not-quite-anymore fetus)

b - biggest fear: It used to be disappointment from others, but I think that’s kind of desensitized so now it’s mainly disappointment from myself. Might sound selfish, but, a lot less work (and also that desensitized thing).

c - current time: 08:20 am just woke up but didn’t post right away cause I’m lazy to finish this.

d - drink you last had: Water… unless you’re talking about actual drink drink, then orange juice (I can English).

e - every day starts with: Staying in bed with my comforter for two hours.

f - favorite song: I have so many different types of songs I like… I’ll just choose one from each genre: One Summer’s Day from Spirited Away, Black Parade from MCR, and Stupid from Brendan Macclean.

g - ghosts, are they real: Muaaaaaaayyybbeeee ?? Possssiiiiblyyyyyyy??? I don’t really think a whole lot about it, honestly.

h - hometown: Somewhere in Alabama idk. But my soul hometown is probably Hunan in China.

i - in love with: My bed/comforter/pillow. Even though I’m not there enough because of stuff to do and I should get more sleep.

j - jealous of: Good senses of humor. I want humor toO WHY AM I NOT FUNNY. (but I love good humor so much)

k - killed someone: billions of flies/spiders/ants in my homes. It’s kind of a reflex at this point.

l - last time you cried: Reading angst fanfiction. I cry really easily so, it’s not that hard to make me shed tears.

m - middle name: Yao. My mum’s last name. The same as the mean dude from the trio in Mulan (same in pronunciation in Chinese but probably not the same character, since many characters in Chinese are similar sounding but not the same writing or meaning).

n - number of siblings: 0. Aloooone foreveeerrr. (maybe a good thing guys how are your siblings if you have any?)

o - one wish: I wish for a happy life. I was gonna wish for a good job, but maybe I won’t be very happy with it. If I was a stronger person maybe I would choose to wish for a good job and take my happiness in my own hands but I'm not, so.

p - person you last called/texted: My friends on Skype (does this count?)

q - questions you’re always asked: “Did you find last night’s homework easy?“ "Why are you late??” and “Holy shit why is your backpack like that YOU NEED A NEW BACKPACK.” (i mean it’s a half question it counts) (also my backpacks break incredibly easily since I stuff them with too many books consistently and they’re not the best quality)

r - reasons to smile: Good sunsets, my friends when they’re being nice, my parents, a good night of rest, random nice strangers in everyday life.

s - song last sang: Stupid by Brendan Macclean again XD

t - time you woke up: 8 am (cuz it’s summer. I actually GOT UP at maybe 10 am)

u - underwear color: The color of I Don’t Know I’m Not Pulling Down My Pants Right Now

v - vacation destination: Switzerland. Just because. Maybe Ireland for the potato based foods. Irish nachos.

w - worst habit: I procrastinate by procrastinating my procrastination.

x - x-rays you’ve had: For the dentist.

y - your favorite food: Rice. My mom’s cooking (her eggs and vegetables dish). (real) Chinese food. Mexican food (avocados preferred).

z - zodiac sign: Fishy fishy.

I shall now tag @sympathykick @katfuzz @naruysae @koomaart @unluckychoices @bibliophileap and anyone else who sees this to try this as well. Unless you don’t like these types of posts... then, um, carry on. Thank you for reading.

[underneaththepurpleskies-blog]

Promdi Heart (Hometown Love Stories)

Title: Promdi Heart: Hometown Love Stories

Author: C.P. Santi, Ines Bautista-Yao, Chris Mariano, Jay E. Tria, Georgette S. Gonzales & Agay Llanera 

Genre: Romance

Summary (cr: goodreads)

Take a quick tour of the Philippines with six hometown love stories.  Visit Jimenez, Misamis Occidental where a priest might just set you up with a man whose dimples are to die for.  Visit Silay, Negros Occidental and get on a horse alongside hunky, hazel-eyed Negrense royalty. Visit Kalibo, Aklan and find yourself in the arms of a cute drummer boy who just happens to be your kuya’s BFF. Visit Hagonoy, Bulacan and spend All Saint’s Day next to a distracting boy who promises to write you a song.  Visit Vigan, Ilocos Sur and meet the hot man you used to bully when he was a shy, chubby boy.  Visit Pundaquit, Zambales and find love in a bronzed fisherman whose eyes hold depths you’ll want to explore

################################################################

I am a neophyte blogger but I just had to read this one first because of a tweet that showcased the release of this book so I signed up. I was really so keen and excited to read this one because I thought the idea of writing stories based on different locations in the Philippines was unique and I enjoy travelling. I just knew that I’ll definitely be entertained by this and the people who haven’t been on the locations featured here would surely be interested in visiting them. It felt as if I was on a tour to these provinces, getting familiar with the food and culture but in reality I was just at home in my jammies and in the comfort of my bed.

What I enjoyed the most was in some stories they actually inserted the dialects spoken in the dialogue among the characters. If I were to be honest though, I found it difficult to understand some as there were no direct translations provided I sure hope there could be a glossary at the end that could help non-native speakers understand them. I also love how some of the stories featured the province’s famous tourist attractions, delish local delicacies and one even featured a festival!

So here’s some of my thoughts on each of the stories. Please read at your own caution as these may contain some spoilers >.<

Story #1: Only the Beginning by C.P. Santi - This was a very cute love story. Even though it was short, I didn’t feel the romance between Andi and Martin were rushed. I adore their bantering and the traditional way Martin handled his feelings with Andi. It’s one cultural practice here in the Philippines that I hope can still be practiced by the younger generation. One of the things I took pleasure while reading this story though were the food featured in this story, it made me crave for them! They were so appetizing when I googled them. I also added Jimenez to my travek bucket list too

Favorite Lines from the story: Things happen for a reason. I’d needed to find myself again.. to heal… to ground myself in what was really important… to fill myself again before I was ready to give. – Andi

This line spoke to me because when one is going through something in life it’s not easy to acknowledge we’re hurting after a break-up. Most of the time we just pretend everything is okay when it’s not. Like they say, it’s okay to not be okay but we have to realize what’s best for us because once we recognize that, the moving on process starts, we finally heal and be prepared to give a piece of us again.

Story #2: Letters to a Boy by Ines Bautista-Yao - Such a distinctive read amongst the other stories because Ms Ines relayed her story to the readers through the hand written letters that Tin-Tin (the lead character) sent to her cousin Annette. We all know these aren’t that popular anymore as a form of communication but this was a nice touch as it rekindled memories of receiving international snail mails from my friends and loved ones before. There’s this special feeling that emits once you get a hold of an envelope knowing it came from a faraway place. Nostalgia at its finest J Another plus of this story is that it featured some beloved books that I enjoyed in my younger years. Tin-Tin was a kindred spirit. Regarding the romance, I actually thought this was ending in a heartbreak because years has passed and it was still a one sided love. I felt Tin-Tin was better off alone or find someone else as it  was really on the last pages where we get to see Nicholas’ sincerity or feelings for her. I also applaud Tin-Tin on actually saying what’s on her mind (despite her already getting what she has been yearning for years) after Nicholas spoke of his feelings to her. I never felt it was true at first but Nicholas persevered and alas it was a happy ending for the couple! Also I have to note that Negros is love :D (It’s actually where my roots are :P so yeah!)

Story #3: Drummer Boy by Chris Mariano - I found this story really fun. I have always wanted to experience the Ati-Atihan festival but I never really have the chance to do so yet. Ms Chris did a wonderful job of describing some of what you’ll see or experience if you get to attend this festival. Like Wired Differently I finished this one the quickest but it was pleasant read. I have always wanted an older brother so seeing how Dex was being all protective of Reina was adorable. The lead MCs were also really level headed and showcased character growth despite this being a short story. Their ending was really sweet and epic!

Favorite Lines from the story: She understood it now, wanting to be there. Wanting to be counted on, wanting to commit to something that was bigger than her. Wanting to be responsible for someone, wanting to be responsible with someone. It didn’t need to start with a five-year plan. In the end it was just a matter of choosing.

Story #4: One Certain Day by Jay E. Tria - The lead MC Alice has a quirky favourite holiday but I couldn’t blame her reasons though. I appreciate that Ms Jay was really detailed in explaining the tradition of All Saints’ Day here in the Philippines and shared to readers how tightly knitted our family bonds are and how these elements were intertwined with interactions of the leads. This featured a trope which is one of my favourites

“Childhood Friends” but this was already some form of a caution that it may not end the way I wanted it to and yep it didn’t. I didn’t feel it was a letdown though because distance can really change things especially because Son and Alice were never really together. There was no commitment so if stuff happened, no one can really be blamed as they were simply friends. It’s a shame but some things are just not meant to be. I still very much enjoyed reading this because of the way Alice handled everything. At the very least she didn’t have that classic “what if” moment because she was braved enough to be honest with her feelings.

Favorite Lines from the story: “Blank space”, he repeated patiently. “When someone dies, they leave a space. A spot. A vacancy, if you will. The ones that remain hurry to fill it.”

Like what Son’s dad said this does apply to other things not just with dying and Alice unfortunately felt this with her heartbreak from Son. TT_TT **sighs** I can still console with the fact at the very least they kept the friendship as this was such a huge obstacle that could have broken them. I am looking forward in reading Son’s own story now xD

Story #5: Once Upon A Bully by Georgette S. Gonzales – from enemies to lovers XD Vigan is pure love. I visited this place a few years ago and it was a great experience that when I was reading about the famous spots featured in this story was like a trip back to memory lane. It was kinda difficult for me to read the chapter where Bridgette bullied Miguel but it got better when she has shown remorse and realized the errors of her ways then. She is such a lucky girl that Miguel was gracious to accept her apology, that gorgeous Iggy or Miguel xD Their romance quickly escalated but I guess it was just meant to be and I’m satisfied how it was wrapped up. The pacing towards their HEA imo was nice.

Story #6: Back to the Stars by Agay Llanera – this has got to be my favourite story out of all 6. The way Ms Agay wrote this was just so engaging and Wency and Leah are my favourite MCs. I like that Wency does not called out Leah for the bad behaviour she displayed and didn’t mince his words in saying what he thinks about this change. I understand Leah as moving to Manila will toughen you especially when you find yourself in an unfamiliar place all by yourself, but it doesn’t hurt to still remember our roots. I am glad she realized this and owned up to it. I also deeply love the way Ms Agay described Pundaquit  because I found it so fascinating and felt it would be a shame if I never visited this place before I die.

Favorite Lines from the story: Because it hurt to hold on to things. It hurt more to hold on to people.. “Because you can’t move forward if you don’t let go. Don’t think about the past. Don’t hold on to things that are no longer around. It’s pathetic, pining for the things you can no longer have.”

As a whole I enjoyed this book. It’s actually the first anthology I’ve read and I kinda wished some were longer stories though as I craved for more. I definitely would recommend this to anyone who wants a light but fluffy read with gorgeous settings and great Female MCs.

I received an ARC of this book in form of an ebook. This is actually my first time doing this type of review so a huge thanks to them for giving me the chance to read this in advance and do a review for it.

[ibijau]

Jin Rusong Lives / On AO3

Lan Xichen breaks

The first few weeks, Lan Xichen tried to hold strong and pretend nothing had changed. His sect needed him. There was so much to do. Juniors to teach. Night Hunts to organise. Disciples to supervise. 

He lived, then, with the constant feeling that it wouldn't take much to break him. 

The conviction he wouldn't break. Not if he tried hard enough. 

Gusu Lan deserved better than another sect leader too weak to live with the consequences of his choices. His uncle deserved better than to be forced again into a role that wasn't his. Lan Wangji deserved… 

Lan Wangji deserved what he finally had. 

Lan Xichen tried not to think too much about that. The memory of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian in that temple always added a crack or two to the armour on which he relied, and he couldn't afford to shatter. 

He wouldn't shatter.

He refused to shatter.

He shattered anyway. 

Sect leader Yao had come to discuss the possibility of sending some guest disciples to the Cloud Recesses for the year to come. 

Sect Leader Yao had come to get in the good graces of the man who killed Jin Guangyao. 

As they sat in his office, Lan Xichen tried to pay attention. He found it harder and harder lately. That days, his eyes fell on shelves of books containing rules to live by, or commentaries on those rules. Commentaries of those commentaries. A whole library to tell him how to live, most of which he knew by heart, and still he had made every mistake. 

There were too many things in his office. 

Calligraphies and paintings, gifts to a man he had never managed to be. 

Gifts from men he had never managed to know. 

When sect leader Yao left, he would take everything down. Bare walls for a bare mind.

His uncle, who hardly left his side lately, threw him a concerned look. Lan Xichen forced himself to return to the present. This could wait. Everything could wait. 

"It's what I said to a friend the other day," sect leader Yao said, never noticing how little attention the other two men paid him. "We are lucky that Zewu-Jun was there to do the right thing. Who else would have stopped Lianfang-Zun? Nie Huaisang?" 

He laughed. 

Lan Xichen felt a new crack appear on the surface of his soul, deeper and larger than any of the previous ones. 

Sect leader Yao didn't know. Nobody knew. By the time they had arrived, it was over. Nothing had remained but that sealed coffin, and blood on Shuoyue. Lan Xichen had refused to explain. So had Jiang Wanyin and Jin Ling. Nie Huaisang had left already. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji long gone as well. And so, others were free to imagine their own stories. 

It had not yet occurred to Lan Xichen that in those stories, they might mistake him for a hero. 

"I wonder how Nie Huaisang will even have the face to show himself in public," sect leader Yao continued. "To have been so dependent on his brother's murderer… even that night at the discussion conference, he was still begging for Jin Guangyao’s help. I wouldn't be surprised if he stepped down from power. It's the least he should do, and who'd miss him?" 

Another crack. 

Lan Xichen felt some fragment of himself crumble and fall. He focused on breathing and smiling. 

He had to smile. 

If he smiled, if he stayed calm, everything would be fine. 

He had to smile. 

"Perhaps Lan zongzhu should consider offering himself as the next chief cultivator," sect leader Yao suggested. "I'm sure we could all stand behind the man who pursued the fleeing tyrant and rid us of him!" 

Lan Xichen took one breath. 

He took another. 

He choked on the third one, and shattered. 

His uncle, who had been watching him closely, gave some excuse to sect leader Yao (a lie, he lied, and this too was Lan Xichen’s fault) before grabbing Lan Xichen by the arm to pull him away. 

Lan Xichen followed, powerless to resist. He let his uncle push him in bed, but found himself unable to understand the words said to him. The tone seemed soothing. He did not deserve that, but accepted it anyway. 

He had always been selfish like that. 

-

The months that followed were a blur. 

Lan Xichen tried, the first day after, to rise up and do his duty.

He had to.

He should have. 

He couldn't. 

His body was lead, his mind heavier still. 

He only moved when his uncle came and made him, forcing him to swallow some food and put on less restricting clothes. 

Lan Xichen wanted to apologise. 

His tongue too was lead, and he couldn't utter the words. 

For a long while, days passed the same. His uncle would visit twice a day to check on him and take care of him. Lan Qiren rarely spoke. Lan Xichen wouldn't have managed to listen. He thought, vaguely, that something must have been put in his tea to keep him calm, so he wouldn’t crumble any more than he already had that day. It was the only ways he could explain the constant fog in his mind, the way he could barely form any thoughts.

He didn’t mind.

It didn’t matter.

In that state he was in, nothing could matter anymore.

After some time, Lan Wangji returned to the Cloud Recesses.

This, too, did not matter.

It couldn’t matter.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

But Lan Wangji was not a man to forget what kindness and cruelty had been done onto him. His brother, once, had forced him to live and go on when he had reached his own breaking point. Whether that had been kindness or cruelty, neither of them had known at the time. Now again, Lan Xichen couldn’t have said which sentiment pushed his brother to take care of him.

Cruelty seemed a more likely candidate.

Because the first thing Lan Wangji did, upon returning, was forbid that any more drugs be given to his brother to keep him calm. And so Lan Xichen was forced to do what he had avoided so long, and face what he had done. 

Like his father before him, he had let himself be seduced by honeyed words, and protected a murderer. A weakness that ran in their family, it seemed. A weakness that ran in Lan Xichen’s blood certainly, since he had allowed himself to be so thoroughly fooled not only by Jin Guangyao, but also by Nie Huaisang. He should have known better. On both matters, he should have known better. Nie Mingjue had warned him time and time again about Jin Guangyao. Nie Mingjue who had trusted him with his life, and Lan Xichen had given his murderer everything he needed.

As for Nie Huaisang…

Lan Xichen should have known better. Should have seen the deception.

He should have.

He hadn’t.

There had to have been signs.

There couldn’t have been signs.

Lan Xichen had done his best, and he had done his worst. He had believed in those around him, and he had closed his eyes to their true nature. He had fought for peace, and he had settled for hidden chaos.

Lan Wangji, who visited him nearly daily, listened to his ramblings in silence, giving neither judgment nor absolution. Lan Xichen would have rejected both, but he appreciated the patient ear offered to him. And so, he confided in his brother as he had never done before, just as Lan Wangji had once confided in him when he was delirious and broken from the pain of the disciple whips.

Every time he was done speaking for the day, Lan Wangji would offer to play a song of healing for him.

Lan Xichen refused for weeks on end. 

It was unreasonable. He knew that much. 

Lan Wangji must have known it as well, offering day after day, without any pressure, without relenting either.

Revenge for the way Lan Xichen too had been at his side day after day when Wei Wuxian had died.

They had patience, both of them. Lan Xichen knew his brother and him could have reached immortality, and in a thousand years Lan Wangji would still visit him and offer to play with him, because he wasn’t a man to give up on those he loved.

That Lan Wangji still loved him after all this was a terrifying realisation.

Soon after understanding this, Lan Xichen finally agreed to having music played to him.

Like this, things started to improve at last. The guilt didn’t go away, but it became manageable in a way that it hadn’t been before. Lan Xichen, slowly, started asking for news of their sect. He managed to find sparks of joy in hearing about the progress of certain juniors he’d had an eye on, and dared to give advice on some small problems that Lan Wangji ran by him. There was a sense of peace to be found in the fact that he still knew how to help with these things, that this much at least had been real skill on his part.

It took many more weeks before Lan Xichen finally dared to ask about the affairs of the world, and for the first time Lan Wangji showed hesitation. He had always been a poor liar, and worse still at hiding from his brother. This too brought Lan Xichen a sense of peace. This too was still a skill he had.

Lan Wangji gave him some sparse news, clumsily trying to hide details he did not wish to share, leaving Lan Xichen to guess for himself what was happening. It seemed smaller sects were trying to use the current political situation to grab a little more power, a little more territories. They were particularly aggressive in their dealings with Lanling Jin. At least, so Lan Xichen understood. Lan Wangji had let it slip that Wei Wuxian had spent a great amount of time with his nephew recently. But with the terrifying Yiling Patriarch and the far scarier Sandu Shengshou on his side, Jin Ling would do just fine in the end. As for the smaller sects, they would settle down. The same thing happened every time something rocked the big sects, but in the end everything always calmed down. Lan Xichen was not worried.

It would be fine.

The sects would be fine.

And Lan Xichen, pointedly, did not ask about the last great sect when his brother did not volunteer any information.

This he was not ready to face yet.

-

Slowly, over time, Lan Xichen started tiring of his house. He was not ready yet to face the world at large, not when he could still feel the cracks in his soul threatening to rip open once more when he allowed himself to think of certain events, certain people. But he had always been an active man, and staying cooped up inside this way could only be tolerated for so long.

The strict curfew of the Cloud Recesses played in his favour. He was free to walk around at night, as long as he was careful to avoid the usual path used by disciples patrolling.

He avoided, as well, any area bearing too many memories. Gardens he had walked in with Jin Guangyao as they discussed politics, halls in which Nie Huaisang’s laughter or tears still rang. Lan Xichen had never realised how good his memory was, until he was forced to run from it.

The safest place, the one where he encountered the least ghosts, what the space around the junior’s quarters. He had never had any reasons to meet Jin Guangyao or Nie Huaisang there, but he had many pleasant memories with the children he had taught over the years. However much he had failed in other matters, at least this Lan Xichen had done well. He was not quite as beloved a teacher as Lan Wangji, but he had still helped those young ones grow into skilled cultivators. It was something to cling to, when everything else felt unsure.

It was there that, one night, long after the bell for curfew, Lan Xichen discovered two boys having a chat in front of the dorms. Not just any boys, either, but one of Lan Wangji’s personal protégés, Lan Jingyi, and none other than young Jin Ling in person, who Lan Wangji had mentioned was visiting. For some reason, it amused Lan Xichen to have stumbled upon this bit of innocent mischief, two friends having a secret meeting in the night, arguing quietly about some thing or other.

Curiosity for the private affairs of others went against the rules of Gusu Lan, because it so often led to gossip.

Still, Lan Xichen couldn’t help himself. It had been too long since he had heard that sort of easy chatter. Missing it for himself, he thought there would be no harm in spying in on others enjoying that sort of companionship. He hid in the darkness near where the two boys were chatting, and listened.

“I wish I could go see him,” Lan Jingyi grumbled. “He must be so bored all the way up there in Qinghe!”

“He didn’t say anything about missing you,” Jin Ling sniffed, earning a shove. “He didn’t! And also, this is a secret mission, so of course you can’t go there. With how much you shout, you’d blow their cover in a second!”

“I can be quiet!” Lan Jingyi shouted, making both of them wince and fall silent as they waited to see if they’d be discovered. Lan Xichen had to refrain a chuckle. “I really can be quiet,” Lan Jingyi grumbled after a moment, much lower now. “And I wish they’d let me go with them. It's boring here on my own."

Them, Lan Xichen guessed, had to mean Lan Sizhui and Wen Ning. Lan Wangji had told him that the boy he now openly called his son left some months prior on a special mission, the details of which he declined to share. Lan Xichen did not ask. If his brother did not volunteer details, he had to have his reasons.

"So, how is he, anyway?" Lan Jingyi asked. 

"I just told you he's fine." 

"Not Sizhui, you idiot. Your cousin, how is he?" 

Jin Ling shrugged. 

"A-Song is doing okay. Better than I remembered him, honestly." 

Hidden in the darkness, Lan Xichen forgot how to breathe. 

A-Song? 

"It must be so weird," Lan Jingyi remarked. "Especially for him. You go to sleep and when you wake up everyone is older, that's messed up. Your whole family is messed up, little mistress." 

"Shut up," Jin Ling snapped. "And anyway, at least he seems happy. He's got all these friends and he's running all the time… It's so weird, I never realised back then that he wasn't allowed to run." 

Lan Xichen felt his knees buckle under him, and had to lean against the side of the building. 

A Jin child forbidden from running, and that name… 

He shook his head. A foolish thought, and one that risked shattering him again if he thought about it for too long. It couldn't be. He had seen his body, taken his pulse. 

Unaware of his distress, the two boys continued chatting. 

"I can't believe your uncle took him to Qinghe," Lan Jingyi commented, in that judgmental tone they had never managed to train him out of. "What if Nie zongzhu kills him?" 

"Then I'll kill him too!" Jin Ling retorted. "But I guess uncle knew what he was doing. He always does. And A-Song does look very happy over there. And he has Nie Huaisang completely wrapped around his finger, it's embarrassing. A-Song just needs to look at him, and he'll pick him up immediately like he isn't big enough to walk! And also…"

Unable to stand it one moment more, Lan Xichen walked up to the boys, staggering as badly as if he'd drunk wine. 

Seeing him come closer, Jin Ling paled, while Lan Jingyi hurried to meet him with open arms, as if fearful he might fall otherwise. 

"Zewu-Jun, are you unwell?" he cried out. "Do you want us to go get Hanguang-Jun?" 

Lan Xichen ignored him, his eyes on Jin Ling only. The boy looked worried, with a particular expression that Lan Xichen had seen often enough on his face to recognise it. 

Jin Ling sweated guilt. 

"What was that about A-Song?" Lan Xichen asked. 

Lan Jingyi, still trying to help his sect leader stand upright, tensed violently. As for Jin Ling, the usually bold boy grew paler still, as if he were confronted by a ghost or a demon rather than a man. 

"Zewu-Jun, you shouldn't be here," Lan Jingyi insisted, trying to pull him away. "I'll take you back to the Hanshi, and then I'll go warn Hanguang-Jun that you're not well." 

"I'm perfectly fine," Lan Xichen retorted, which even he knew to be a lie, but after everything else he had done, what was a lie? "Jin zongzhu. What was that about your cousin?" 

Jin Ling did not answer right away, appearing torn in a way that already felt like an answer, though one Lan Xichen wasn't sure he understood. 

The boy hesitated so long that Lan Xichen almost repeated his question. Before he could, Jin Ling looked up at him, proud and challenging as only a Jin would dare to be. 

"Jin Rusong is alive," he announced, his voice ringing too loud in the silence of the Cloud Recesses. "And at the moment, he's living in Qinghe." 

"Jin Ling, no !" Lan Jingyi exploded, but it was already too late. 

Without thinking, Lan Xichen tore himself from the boy's grasp and, for the first time in his life, ran inside the Cloud Recesses. 

He ran until he reached his home, where he grabbed Shuoyue for the first time since that day he shattered. Even after so long, it was easy to jump on it, just as easy as breathing in fact, and requiring as little thought. 

-

It was a long way from the Cloud Recesses to the Unclean Realm. Lan Xichen had rarely done the trip without breaks, and on those rare occasions he had been at the height of his health, not weakened from months of isolation. And yet every time he thought of stopping, his mind rebelled against the idea. 

If he stopped, he would realise how stupid this was. A tasteless prank from a boy who had every reason to hate him. 

If he stopped, he would remember that he had been there when Jin Rusong was found, that Jin Guangyao himself had confessed to murdering his son, just as he had murdered so many others. 

If he stopped… 

He did not stop. 

Not until he reached the gates of the Unclean Realm, exhausted and aching but ready to fight his way in. 

He didn't have to, though. When the guards recognised him, they lowered their sabres, whispering something among themselves, about permissions and exceptions and whether they should get Nie Funyu or directly warn their sect leader. 

If he had been in a normal state of mind, Lan Xichen would have explained the reason for his presence and patiently waited for their decision.

If he had been in a normal state of mind, Lan Xichen wouldn't have been there. 

While the Nie disciples were still arguing over how to handle the situation, Lan Xichen simply ran inside. He knew exactly where Nie Huaisang lived, having been there so many times in the past. He knew also about the trinkets that the man he once called his friend kept around the entrance, knew from Nie Huaisang’s own confidence that they were there to alert him against unwanted visitors. Lan Xichen, even half delirious from lack of sleep, knew that he was very much unwanted there, so he walked carefully about the flower pots. He still failed to see a windchime which rang when his head hit it, startling him enough that he tripped and made some of the pots fall.

Figuring there would be no surprise on his side, Lan Xichen gave up and went straight to the door, opening it without bothering to knock.

From inside Nie Huaisang stared at him, and just like Jin Ling some days prior, he looked as if he were seeing a ghost.

He looked, also, tired in a way that Lan Xichen understood too well. In spite of everything that had come to pass between them, Lan Xichen felt an old pity surge again inside him. Acting on sheer instinct he took a step forward, only for Nie Huaisang to move away, eyes widening in fear as he tightened his grip on the sabre he was holding, his body tensing for a fight. 

It answered a number of questions that Lan Xichen wouldn't have dared to ask. 

It did not matter. 

Nothing mattered, except…

"I want to see him." 

“It’s the middle of the night, he’s sleeping,” Nie Huaisang immediately retorted.

Hearing those words, Lan Xichen almost collapsed.

What Nie Huaisang should have done was asking who Lan Xichen was talking about, or worse yet mocking him for falling into this obvious trap. This would have made sense. But if Nie Huaisang knew who he meant, then it was real somehow.

“So it’s true?” he gasped. “But he… I saw it. I saw him. A-Yao confessed!”

Something shifted in Nie Huaisang’s expression, his fear giving way to something much worse, something that might have been disdain or pity. He put away his sabre, and took a step toward Lan Xichen.

“So they didn’t tell you, uh?” Nie Huaisang sighed. “It’s… complicated. But he’s alive. He’s really alive, and he’s doing very well. He… he’s been asking for you, actually. Nearly daily.”

“I need to see him.”

Nie Huaisang pinched his lips, a calculating expression on his face. It was one that he had often enough as a boy when deciding what fights with his brother were worth the hassle, one that Lan Xichen hadn’t seen in years, not until that split second after he asked him if Jin Guangyao had really moved to threaten them.

“It’s very late, Er-ge,” Nie Huaisang pointed out, which was true of course, and Lan Xichen knew his request would be denied, but he needed, he needed… “You’ll have to be quiet,” Nie Huaisang ordered. “If you wake him… well, don’t.”

And just that easily, Nie Huaisang motioned for Lan Xichen to follow him into a side room. It used to be one where Nie Huaisang displayed his collection of fans, Lan Xichen vaguely recalled as he walked through the door. But there were no more fans on the walls, and instead plenty of toys on the floor, as well as a bed large enough for an adult, into which a small shape was bundled into covers, nothing but a little face peeking out.

At the sight of that face, Lan Xichen broke into silent tears.

Last time he had seen Jin Rusong, the child’s face had been dark, making it almost beyond recognition save to those who knew him best. Yet there he was, relaxed and warm and breathing.

Alive.

Jin Rusong was alive.

Overwhelmed by this realisation, Lan Xichen did not resist when Nie Huaisang pulled first on his sleeve, then on his hand to lead him out of the child’s bedroom. His fatigue, which he had held off for so long, started catching up with him. He thought Nie Huaisang was telling him something, perhaps plans for the morning, but none of it registered. Lan Xichen did vaguely realise he was being pushed into a bed though, for which he would have been grateful if he’d had the strength.

He fell asleep quickly, almost the instant he laid down, with only one last thought on his mind.

Jin Rusong was alive, and perhaps there was still hope left in this world.

[callsignbaphomet]

I kind of want to write it myself but I have to go to work, so I'm going to give you 34 because it is the corniest thing I've read all day.

34. “These stars are nothing compared to the ones I’ve seen in your eyes.”

He was tired, worn out and even if he didn’t want to admit it he was pretty sore. It’d been a long time since he’d been fucked like that. Last few times he was sober enough to recall were quickies behind whatever building was the closest to vaguely hide behind. He was sure he and whoever was with him had been caught numerous times. Not exactly something he felt any shame about, not when the audience were chem infused, alcohol fueled raiders who did the same or worse if some of the stories were to be believed. While the drug-infused anonymous sex in public was a way to scratch an itch, so to say, the excitement of it all died down rather quickly and he soon came to find that it wasn’t exactly satisfying. Especially when he could recall some partners either finishing too fast, not being able to even stand on their own two feet or after two to three thrusts they couldn’t keep themselves hard enough to finish which led some to threaten him if he ever said anything. The threats themselves made it all the more hilarious for him, it was even more hilarious when he’d dispatch the juicy little detail to certain people who were known to never shut up about gossip.

This was different. This was far better than the last several times he recalled. Even better was the fact that he was able to lie down next to him and when he’d put his arms around him and pulled him closer he thought he was going to squeal. He shifted his eyes to see his arm sticking out from under him while his other arm hugged him. He stared at the palm of his hand and slowly moved his own hand towards it. He touched his palm with the tip of his fingers and gently drew circles in the middle. After a while he was suddenly startled when he closed his hand around his, prompting him to turn around. He was met with a set of sleepy blue eyes and a small smile staring back which caused him to smile back.

“Sorry, J, didn’t mean to wake you.” Angelus whispered.

“Just had my eyes closed, that’s all. I thought you were asleep.”

“Uh-uh.” Angelus said as he nuzzled up to Jelani. “I don’t know, can’t sleep.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking.” Angelus whispered. He opened his eyes and saw the stitches on the right side of Jelani’s neck. A few more inches and the bullet could have hit an artery but he quickly shook his head as to avoid thinking what could’ve happened instead of being grateful that they got out alive though a little battered.

Angelus ran his finger across an older scar on Jelani’s jaw and out of curiosity asked, “How’d you get that one?”

“Hmmmmm, knife fight with some drunk idiot.” Jelani chuckled as he remembered the fight, “Funny thing is I actually didn’t feel a thing when he cut me but once the Psycho wore off I bitched and cried for an hour about it.”

“That’s Psycho for ya.” Angelus blurted out as he laughed. “Great when it’s in your system but once it’s gone you’re gonna wish you were dead.”

“Hey, so what about you? What happened to your back? It’s covered in scars.”

“The one time I did something nice for someone else I almost got killed. You remember that girl I introduced you to? Ginger?”

“From the lighthouse? Yeah. She’s nice.”

“Well, she was on her way back home when she and her party got lost, they’d recently moved to the lighthouse and were in short supply of practically everything so they’d gone out to search for stuff to bring back. Unfortunately they ran into a yao guai and she was hurt pretty bad and I have no idea why but I ran over to help. I don’t really remember too much but when I came to she grabbed my gun and emptied the entire clip on that thing’s head. Was kind of badass. I passed out again, blood loss, and came to at the lighthouse. Been friends since. Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“What about the ones on your arms? The ones on your right arm look fresh.”

Jelani remained silent as the question registered. Normally he’d tell anyone who asked about those specific scars to piss off or that it was none of their business, but he didn’t want to seem cruel though at the same time he thought that if he told him the truth he’d think he was some demented freak and would push him away. For a while he analyzed his options and carefully constructed an answer. He knew he wouldn’t be able to lie, the scars were almost perfectly aligned and the cuts were clean. It was obvious that he hadn’t gotten them from a fight or from some wild animal.

“It’s…just something that happens once in a while. It’s better if we don’t talk about it; I wouldn’t even know how to explain it without–”

“Without sounding like a freak. I get it. I had a friend who did the same after his wife died. He said that it hurt but it didn’t hurt as much as what he was feeling.”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“I’m sorry, J.”

“It’s fine. So what happened to this friend?” Jelani asked as to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Oh, well, believe it or not one day he ran into an old abandoned farm outside the Commonwealth and said he wanted to farm the shit outta it. From raider to farmer. I laughed so hard I thought I’d pissed myself but he was serious about it. Started growing crops, expanded the farm, hired some people and took it easy from then on. He wanted me to go along with him but nah, farming is definitely not for me and give up this freedom to wake up at dawn to tend to plants? Hell, no. I do miss him. Had a really thick accent like you. Well, not exactly like yours. Yours is really weird–not that it’s bad! It’s just you know, unique. He actually taught me how to speak Spanish just so we could share info and no one would be the wiser.”

“Wait a sec. You know Spanish?” Jelani amusingly quipped. He always found it fascinating when others knew some other language besides English. The fact that that friend had an accent as well felt like a relief after a childhood of other kids making fun of his.

“That’s right, papi.” Angelus chuckled as he wrapped his arms around Jelani. “What about that weird language you sometimes mutter to yourself, what the heck is it?”

“Well, my father’s family had a habit of keeping track of their ancestors from before the war. If you ask me I think it was their way to cope with dealing with life as it is now. So my father could trace his family back from before the war. Apparently five years before the war our family moved from some other country into Minnesota. We lost track of what that country was along the way but we know they spoke this language called Norsk and they’ve been passing it on ever since. I learned that one before I learned English so that’s why the accent plus he had the same accent and when I was really little my mom wasn’t home too much so I learned to talk, read and write from him.”

“Why wasn’t your mom around too much?”

“She was with the Brotherhood of Steel and every time they got close she went off to throw them off her trail. There wasn’t any NCR activity in the Capital so my dad had nothing to worry about. But the Brotherhood didn’t take too kindly to her going AWOL so she ended up on their shit list. I guess she dealt with them because after I turned four she was around all the time.”

“I didn’t know you were from the Capitol. What about your parents? They still there?”

“They died when I was five.”

“Wait a minute, how did you–”

“My brother looked after me.” Jelani answered in anticipation to Angelus’ follow up question. “He did the best he could but he was only fourteen when our parents died. It was really hard at first, their deaths hit him pretty hard and even though they left a good amount of caps hidden away it only lasted for a few months. After that my brother tried to find anything he could do to earn caps for us but sometimes there wasn’t really much people would ask a fourteen year old to do. He tried to hide it but I know he lied a lot about how bad things were at times. Most nights he wouldn’t eat so I could and he’d lie but I knew he would go days without eating so that I wouldn’t go hungry. If he was sick he’d save the Stimpaks in case I got sick. So as I got a little bit older I learned to steal shit to bring it home, there was no way I was gonna watch my brother kill himself for me.”

“God, that sounds horrible.”

“It was. I think he knew I was stealing stuff but he didn’t have any proof. What was he gonna do, keep inventory? Plus a friend of the family would check in on us. It was this really old ghoul named Sunniva. She’d come around every few months to check up on us but when she found out our parents died she stopped by every month with supplies so I kept the stealing down to only when it was an emergency. Things got a hell of a lot better when he was able to pass as an adult and joined up with a group of mercs called Talon Company. I don’t think he liked doing some of the stuff he had to do. Some nights he came home, washed up and went to bed without saying a word but I could hear him crying.”

“Anyway, after a while he and I decided to move out of the Capitol. We had the caps, the supply and gear for a really long trek so we just left. Those were the best months of my life. He’d mapped out several routes we could take to get to New Vegas and he’d let me choose which one we were taking that day. It was amazing, we’d stop to explore ruins, he gave me every Nuka-Cola and gumdrops he’d find along the way and there was this huge library and he let me take as many books as I could carry with me. So at night we’d find a good spot to spend the night in, eat some dinner and we’d spend a few minutes outside just looking up at the stars and right before bed he always read a bit aloud to me. I preferred to do it myself but it was great just hearing him talk for a while.”

“New Vegas, huh? I heard that place was fucked because of the NCR.”

“Sorta. Anyway, we stayed there for a while until we got in trouble with the NCR.” Jelani laughed as he recalled the confrontations which were dangerous but for some reason he and Loke never took them seriously. Maybe they liked to lash out at lesser threats to feel some sense of power since the Legionnaires were always on them and giving them a hard time. Of course Jelani left out the small fact that the reason they ended up running from the NCR was because they killed six of their veteran rangers over a petty squabble that escalated due to short tempers and massive egos.

“After the NCR put out a “shoot on sight” on us we decided to leave. We heard a few caravans were headed to Boston so we were hired by one to get them across safely. It wasn't…” Jelani’s voice began to quiver as he recalled the last weeks he spent with his brother.

Angelus caught on to the change in his voice and quickly looked up to see him. He didn’t say anything to Jelani especially when he saw tears silently running down his face, he just hugged him a little tighter and nuzzled his nose against his throat.

“Um…” Jelani gasped as he tried to catch his breath while trying desperately to hold back his tears. “He…he died and it was my fault. He was all I had and he’s dead because of me. I picked the route and we walked right into a deathclaw nest. He told me to get everyone far from the nest and I did but I went back for him. He was standing in the middle of a rope bridge with the deathclaw near him. I panicked and shot at it so it turned around and was walking towards me. He cut the ropes holding the bridge together and they fell. I watched him fall and I stayed there for days hoping that he was okay and that he’d come back but he never did–I killed him–”

“No, hey, J, listen to me!” Angelus said as he cupped Jelani’s face in his hands and while looking right at him he continued, “You couldn’t have known there was a deathclaw nest there. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was!”

“No, it wasn’t! Look, clearly your brother loved you. He loved you enough to face off against a deathclaw for you. Do you honestly think he’d want you to blame yourself for what happened? No. You said so yourself, he looked after you and cared for you. He put aside any selfishness and even his own needs to take care of you because he loved you and didn’t want anything bad to happen to you. Okay? Don’t do that to yourself.”

Jelani went quiet as he slowed down his breathing. He still felt an immense guilt over what happened that day but in an odd way what Angelus had just said made sense. Blaming himself wasn’t going to solve anything, it only led to him mutilating himself and playing with the idea of killing himself, none of which was going to bring Loke back and in the end his death would’ve been in vain.

“Come on,” Angelus whispered while wiping away the tears, “Don’t cry, hon. Those pretty blue eyes look best when they’re shining like stars.”

“Okay.” Jelani said as he finally smiled.

“Well, actually, these stars are nothing compared to the ones I’ve seen in your eyes.”

As soon as Angelus said that both of them stayed quiet for about a minute staring at each other and suddenly both of them burst out laughing. Once they were able to calm their laughter Angelus covered his face with his pillow but Jelani lowered it to find him blushing over what he had just said.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Oh, my god, I don’t fucking know. I heard this drunk idiot say it at the cafe and I don’t know why I just remembered it and blurted it out. That was so weird!”

“Nah, it was cute but kinda weird too.” Jelani hugged Angelus and pulled him closer until they were both body to body. Jelani then looked past the cloth dividing the makeshift bed in the small camp, he could see the sky behind the Nuka-Cola Bottling Plant getting lighter across the horizon. Neither of them had slept but he didn’t worry about it. They had nothing planned for the day and it was fine by him if they spent the entire day sleeping together.

“Hmm, it’s almost sunrise.” Jelani yawned.

“That’s fine. The world can go fuck itself, I just wanna stay like this with you.”

“Jeg elsker deg.”

“I love you too.”

[stormhavenmedia]

Authors note; As always follow the links and research on your own, believing random dudes on the internet is how we got here. Nothing in this should be taken as a reason to in any way hate any group. Racism is bad for you. My purpose here is to set the record straight and present the actual undisputed, but little known facts. Prejudice and Judgement are two different things. 

“Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past.”

George Orwell

   Recent years have seen the rise of Somali politicians in North America. The two most prominent examples being Ahmed Hussein, (Axmed Xuseen) Canadian Minister of Immigration during the first Trudeau government, and Ilhan Abdullahi Omar first term US congresswoman and famously leader of the progressive “squad”.

  Both Xuseen and Ohmar have similar backstories. They were welcomed by Canada and the US respectively as refugees. Both were supported by generous social systems in their first years in their nations that saved them. I say “saved them” because under the legal definition provided by the 1951 Refugee Convention, to be considered refugees they could not have returned to Somalia “owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion.” So if they were legitimate refugees then de facto Canada and the United States saved them from brutal persecution. Both were given every opportunity to succeed, and succeed they did. Both received high-end educations not readily available to much of the population. Both were elected to high public office that incredibly few citizens can aspire to.

  Both Axmed Xuseen and Ilhan Ohmar have shown their immense gratitude by using every opportunity, and the full weight and very real privilege of their offices, to denigrate both societies with a literally endless stream of cringe-inducing epithets. The vitriol with which they assault the people and societies who sponsored them is incredibly vicious in both cases. Every “white” American and Canadian are brutal racists. We have no culture, no history of any note. Our home countries are merely constructs of “white-colonial-settler” supremacy. The societies that provided them with an elite education and elected them to high office, are according to them, irredeemable and inherently racist to their cores. This message is blasted into the national conscience by seemingly unlimited access to the corporate media, the odious CBC, academia and the utter adulation of the economic elite “woke” classes. Their views are even being heralded in the British medical Journal, The Lancet as scientific fact. The piece shown below generally asserts that all evil in the world, from slavery to colonization, originates with “whiteness” which must be swept from the earth.

 Our Somali heroes/victims claim positions of moral authority due to the inherently superior non “white” culture that spawned them. Their history is not stained with the conquest and subjugation of  the “other” as is all “white” culture. They hold themselves literally incapable of being racist.

  They both site their adherence to Islam, the religion of peace, and thus cement their position as historical victims. Both like to lecture the inherently racist “white” citizens who elected them about the massive deficits in  their culture, and their desperate need to end “white superiority” and “whiteness” itself in a vaguely genocidal incitement. Any dissent is met with furious tirades, and legislation, criminilizing Islamophobia.

   What follows is a history both Ohmar and Axmed and the legions of the “woke” hoped you would never learn.  Through deliberate and sustained action, our education systems have been manipulated over generations to ensure we forget our history. We are taught only the very selective facts those in power wish us to know. The warping of our education system has been very successful. I have a college level education and have studied history all my life yet much of what this was unknown to me. This has been a long game. It has allowed these two individuals, and many others to perpetrate some of the most epic gas-lighting in human history.

    One culturally iconic feature of Somali culture and language neither Axmed Xuseen or Ilhan Ohmar have chosen to share with us putrid “whites” is the word “Jareer”.  Jareer is an ancient Somali term of racist derision for the Bantu peoples, and anyone else they feel is racially inferior. Millions of Bantu people were hunted and sold in open slave markets in the ports of Zeila and Mogadishu for at least a thousand years. The fact is that Somalis were beneficiaries of the brutal Islamic wars of conquest that carved out the Maghreb wiping out the indigenous cultures. This meant they also enslaved Oromo and Nilotic  people. Somalis had a much different impression of these groups. Their capture, treatment and duties of the two groups of slaves differed markedly, with Oromo favored because Oromo subjects were not viewed as racially jareer by their Somali captors. Both the use of the term Jareer and the deeply held, openly racist, views of the Somali population persist to this day.

   In the 700 years immediately before Europeans came to Africa, Somalia was one of the centers of the brutally colonial Islamic Caliphates.  The Somalis created an empire based on trading with the burgeoning Islamic world being carved out with the sword from the Indus Valley to Europe, killing millions between the rise of Muhammad and the beginning of the European Age of Empire.

Irfan Husain, Islamic scholar speaking about the muslim conquest of India that began around 1000 AD,  “Demons from the Past”

“While historical events should be judged in the context of their times, it cannot be denied that even in that bloody period of history, no mercy was shown to the Hindus unfortunate enough to be in the path of either the Arab conquerors of Sindh and south Punjab, or the Central Asians who swept in from Afghanistan…The Muslim heroes who figure larger than life in our history books committed some dreadful crimes. Mahmud of Ghazni, Qutb-ud-Din Aibak, Balban, Mohammed bin Qasim, and Sultan Mohammad Tughlak, all have blood-stained hands that the passage of years has not cleansed..Seen through Hindu eyes, the Muslim invasion of their homeland was an unmitigated disaster.

“Their temples were razed, their idols smashed, their women raped, their men killed or taken slaves. When Mahmud of Ghazni entered Somnath on one of his annual raids, he slaughtered all 50,000 inhabitants. Aibak killed and enslaved hundreds of thousands. The list of horrors is long and painful. These conquerors justified their deeds by claiming it was their religious duty to smite non-believers. Cloaking themselves in the banner of Islam, they claimed they were fighting for their faith when, in reality, they were indulging in straightforward slaughter and pillage…”

 Much of the lucrative merchandise the Somali Caliphs taxed were chained human beings. While Europeans were busy in their mud huts trying to stitch together the ruins of the Roman Empire, the Somali Caliphates were instrumental in the trafficking on some 12 million human beings. They then continued the practice for another 600 years after European contact, until the Italian colonial administration abolished slavery in Somalia at the turn of the 20th century. Somalia’s slaving empire had lasted over a thousand years.

I will rely on mostly African scholars where possible for historical and cultural contextual telling of this story in detail.

 We begin with Nat Amarteifio; historian, and former mayor of Accra, Ghana’s capital. Speaking about the origins of Slavery

“There is a willful amnesia about the roles that we played in the slave trade……….The system already existed,” Amarteifio said. “The Europeans saw it. And thought: ‘Ah, we can try these people in our lands in the New World…..But Amarteifio says the Europeans weren’t going out and capturing Africans. They couldn’t — they got sick and died from illnesses like malaria. Some African ethnic groups went into business, warring with other groups so they could capture prisoners they sold as slaves to the Europeans. Amarteifio says they were organized and intentional about it. “To pursue slavery successfully, you need a highly organized group because somebody has to go out there — somebody has to locate the victims; somebody has to lead an army there; somebody has to capture them, transport them to the selling centers; all the time, keeping an eye on them to make sure they don’t revolt,” he said. “And then sell them, and move on.”

 https://www.pri.org/stories/2019-08-20/willful-amnesia-how-africans-forgot-and-remembered-their-role-slave-trade

Sandra E. Greene. Anbinder Professor of African History at Cornell University Speaking on the origins of African slavery.

“Very few Americans know that slavery was common throughout the world as well as in Africa”, says Sandra E. Greene. Greene’s research focuses on the history of slavery in West Africa, especially Ghana, where warring political communities in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries enslaved their enemies, and the impact can still be felt today. “Slavery in the United States ended in 1865,” says Greene, “but in West Africa it was not legally ended until 1875, and then it stretched on unofficially until almost World War I. Slavery continued because many people weren’t aware that it had ended, similar to what happened in Texas after the United States Civil War.”

 https://research.cornell.edu/news-features/curious-history-slavery-west-africa

Senegalese Anthropologist, Economist and Author; Tidiane N’Diaye spoke to  Silja Fröhlich at Deutsche Welle,  

“According to N’Diaye, slavery has existed in practically all civilizations. This was also the case in Africa before settlers came….In central East Africa, ethnic groups such as the Yao, Makua and Marava were fighting against each other and entire peoples within the continent traded with people they had captured through wars. Thus Arab Muslims encountered already existing structures, which facilitated the purchase of slaves for their purposes…

..Back then, Arab Muslims in North and East Africa sold captured Africans to the Middle East. There, they worked as field workers, teachers or harem guards, which is why the castration of male slaves was common practice. Muslims, on the other hand, including African Muslims, were not allowed to be enslaved, according to Islamic legal views. Initially, the Arab Muslims in Eastern and Central Europe took white slaves to sell them to Arabia, ….But  the growing military power of Europe put an end to Islamic expansion and now that there was a shortage of slaves, Arab Muslims were looking massively to black Africa.”

https://www.dw.com/en/east-africas-forgotten-slave-trade/a-50126759

The African Slave Trade to Asia and the Indian Ocean Islands,

In: African and Asian Studies

Author: Robert Collins,

01 Jan 2006 Volume 5: Issue 3

 Speaking about the ancient origins of African slavery;

https://brill.com/view/journals/aas/5/3/article-p325_4.xml?fbclid=IwAR0bCEvWxYhemcUv4wQkwttRFfoXmJcE7W4OI6iDiQI2yQfCEDVIrLRmJ2s

Unraveling Somalia: Race, Class, and the Legacy of Slavery

By Catherine Besteman, 1999, University of Pensylvania Press, On Somali Identity and racial prejudice.

 SOME ASPECTS OF THE ARAB SLAVE TRADE FROM THE SUDAN 7th — 19th CENTURY, Yusuf Fadl Hasan

Chairman, Turkish Studies Unit, U. of K., 2000-(Founding) Vice-Chancellor, University of Sharjah, U.A.E, March 1997-February 1998.President (Vice-Chancellor), University of Khartoum, 1985-1990. President, Omdurman Islamic University, 1984-1985. Deputy Vice-Chancellor, U. of K., 1983-1984.Dean, Faculty of Arts, U. of K. 1975-1979.Director, Sudan Research Unit, U. of K., 1965-1072.Visiting Professor at the Universities of London, Qatar, Mecca, Riyadh, Tripoli, Cairo, Ahmadu Bello, Mousil, Bergen and Aden

Sudan Notes and Records

Vol. 58 (1977), pp. 85-106

https://www.jstor.org/stable/44947358?seq=1

Speaking to the origins of Islamic Slavery

  Slavery and Slave Trades in the Indian Ocean and Arab Worlds: Global Connections and Disconnections…Straight, No Chaser: Slavery, Abolition,and the Modern Muslim Mind

Bernard K. Freamon,  Professor of Law Emeritus on the Faculty of Law, Seton Hall Law.

http://www.yale.edu/glc/indian‐ocean/freamon.pdf

Speaking about the denial toward its history of slavery in the Islamic world.

   Some general historical perspective on the Trans Saharan slave trade and the enslavement of Europeans. 8th and 9th century AD

https://courses.lumenlearning.com/atd-tcc-worldciv2/chapter/transsaharan-slave-trade/

“During the 8th and 9th centuries of the Fatimid Caliphate, most of the slaves were Europeans (called Saqaliba) captured along European coasts and during wars.[2] However, slaves were drawn from a wide variety of regions and included Mediterranean peoples, Persians, peoples from the Caucasus mountain regions (such as Georgia, Armenia and Circassia) and parts of Central Asia and Scandinavia, English, Dutch and Irish, Berbers from North Africa, and various other peoples of varied origins as well as those of African origins. Toward the 18th and 19th centuries, the flow of Zanj (Bantu) slaves from East Africa increased with the rise of the Oman sultanate, which was based in Zanzibar. They came into direct trade conflict and competition with Portuguese and other Europeans along the Swahili coast.[3] The North African Barbary states carried on piracy against European shipping and enslaved thousands of European Christians. They earned revenues from the ransoms charged; in many cases in Britain, village churches and communities would raise money for such ransoms. The government did not ransom its citizens.”

Gwyn Campbell

The International Journal of African Historical Studies

Vol. 22, No. 1 (1989), pp. 1-26

Published by: Boston University African Studies Center

https://www.jstor.org/stable/219222?seq=1

Speaking to the fact that the Islamic slave trade carried on without puase all during the period of the Atlantic slave trade and was in no way displaced by it. Here they are speaking about the early 19th century.

An article pointing to some of the implications of the Islamic slave trade on African women.

https://newafricanmagazine.com/16616/

“While in the European “New W o r ld ”, the measure of a man’s stature was mapped out and calibrated on the physical dimensions of empire built upon the sinews of forced masculine labour, in the Islamic Orient wealth was a reflection of prestige, young girls the vessel of male h u b r is , the mats of male pleasure ground, the malleable material to be shaped to the master’s will.

Thus, women slaves in the Arab world were often turned into concubines living in harems, and rarely as wives, their children becoming free. A large number of male slaves and young boys were castrated and turned into eunuchs who kept watch over the harems. Castration was a particularly brutal operation with a survival rate of only 10%.”

“The combined effect of all these factors,” says Duncan Clarke, “was a steady demand for slaves throughout the Islamic world, which had cover story to be met from wars, raids or purchases along the borders with non-Islamic regions. Although some of these slaves came from Russia, the Balkans and central Asia, the continuing expansion of Islamic regimes in sub-Saharan Africa made black Africans, the major source.”

A paper discusing the modern reality of Somalia for non Somali’s

 Mohamed A. Eno, Dean at St Clements University Somalia; Associate Professor of African Studies and Senior Faculty & Researcher in the English Department, ADNOC Technical Institute, UAE.

Mohamed H. Ingiriis ,Graduate student at Goldsmiths, University of London

Omar A. Eno ;Adjunct Professor of African History and Director of the African Migration and Development Research Program at Portland State University, Oregon, USA

 Discrimination and Prejudice in the Nucleus of African Society: Empirical Evidence from Somalia

“The long silence of Somali studies toward what relates to prejudice, subjugation, and discrimination against the oppressed Bantu people in the country will be discussed before the conclusion finally wraps up the study with suggestions and recommendations for further research

During post-independence era and despite the repeated praise of the civilian regimes for democratic ideals, the Bantu Jareer (like the outcast groups) were not allowed to field their own candidate for parliament, not to think of cabinet post which was exclusively for Somalis . Often, bureaucratic barricades were used to shut them out at party nomination level. “The state and the SYL party feared that if a Jareer were fielded it would be difficult to defeat him in numerical terms; so they had to formulate strategies to deprive him at preliminary stages by every possible means,” comments Macallin Dhaayoow of Bandhowoow area of Xamar Jab Jab in Mogadishu.

Muuse Mocoow explains an episode which reveals how it was easier to scapegoat on a Bantu than any other person. “We have had situations in which we had to pay for crimes committed by others,” explains Muuse, a Bantu Jareer construction supervisor based in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. “My brother and my uncle were arrested for construction materials their boss had stolen from the construction project of his ministry in order to use it for the building of his personal house in Booli-Qaran. His high ranking police kin told him that if anyone could be implicated as the culprit, then he wouldn’t be taken to the National Security Court for stealing public property. Because as Bantu we did not have anyone to stand for our right, we became sacrificial lamb for the crime of every culprit from the ruling clans,” adds Muuse as he gets emotional with tears rolling down his face. “This is one of the reasons why many of us [Bantu] left Somalia because there are no Muslims. The law doesn’t protect us; the so-called revolution didn’t protect us; nothing protects us unless we are absent from the land. That is what we did.” Muuse concludes with these pitiful remarks: “We are here in Saudi Arabia, aged, and will probably die here. It is sad; but because of what has been happening in the country for the past 20 years, there is nothing to go back to. They (Somalis) became much wilder beasts. No human can associate with them.” The account given by Xuseen Juma Shongole reveals an exemplary case of how even the state provided not only a leeway to expropriation of the property of members of the Bantu Jareer community, but actually practically participated in the looting of the fertile farms adjacent to the rivers. According to Xuseen: We woke up one morning only to witness our livelihood including mature crops and thousands of fruit bearing trees bulldozed to the ground. There was a number of heavy machinery equipment because the government had decided to build a sugar factory in the neighborhood and saw it in its benefit to dislodge us from the area in order to establish an enormous sugarcane plantation to supply the factory. To add insult to injury, the staff of the project told us that we should stop ‘crying over land’ and be part of the ‘waged workforce’ that would be employed to work on our state-expropriated farms. That action told us that our livelihood was not important to the government and that the governor who was representing it was very cruel, arrogant and irresponsible.” In order to contribute to the argument related to the theory of heterogeneity of the Somali people rather than the untenable, old concept of homogeneity, we intend to highlight a distinct community that has been and still is the victims of persecution, prejudice and discrimination under the veil of the concept of egalitarian Somalia. The group is the Bantu Jareer ethnic community which, related to its African origin, is “permanently removed from the social boundary of Somaliness ” (Kusow 2004:)

 Modern Islamic Slavery

Africa is one of the few places on earth where slavery still persists. In fact African countries were some of the last to actually make the practice illegal. Muslims are once again trading Jareer slaves in open air markets in Tripoli, Libya

  “The footage released by CNN appears to show youths from Niger and other sub-Saharan countries being sold to buyers for about $400 (£300) at undisclosed locations in Libya…..These modern slavery practices must end and the African Union will use all the tools at its disposal,” Mr Conde said.”..

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-42038451

 “Thirteen anti-slavery campaigners were sentenced for up to 15 years in prison in Mauritania last week, for their role in a protest aimed at denouncing the practice of slavery in the country. The government tribunal found members of the Initiative for the Resurgence of the Abolitionist Movement (IRA) guilty of various counts, including attacks against the government, armed assembly and membership of an unrecognized organization. Mauritania is the world’s last country to abolish slavery, and the country didn’t make slavery a crime until 2007. The practice reportedly affects up to 20% of the country’s 3.5 million population (pdf, p. 258), most of them from the Haratin ethnic group

For centuries, the black Haratins have been caught in a cycle of servitude enforced by the …..descendants of Arab Berbers.

https://qz.com/africa/763470/the-last-country-to-abolish-slavery-is-jailing-its-anti-slavery-

activists/

 There Are 46 Million Slaves in the World — Here’s Where They’re Found

A chilling reminder from the Global Slavery Index.

Somalia remains 6th on the Global Slavery Index

An index measuring strength of response against slavery. Canada rates very high Somalia not so much.

Somalia is a failed state. I will not engage in argument here about why it persists in being so since its independence.

Somalia’s population has grown exponentially in the last 40 years despite having no viable economy or government. The country and the U.N. decry its lack of ability to support this level of population growth. Now while the countries of the west like Canada, which without immigration has a steady or declining population already, are exhorted to stop having children, yet no such admonition is given to the loyal followers of Islam.

https://www.worldometers.info/world-population/somalia-population/

While there is still slavery practiced by Somalis it just doesn’t bring in the big bucks like it used to. Many enterprising Somalis have turned to piracy on the high seas. Success has been mixed thanks in part to the Royal Canadian Navy.

 They have thus far been unable to base their economy on piracy in the same way as slavery and it has made the country less than attractive as a port.

Somalis have also become enthusiastic about once again subjugating their African neighbors to Islam and one imagines this is providing some limited employment. This should be viewed as part of an unbroken thirteen cenutry push to impose the will of Alaah on their fellow human by any means.

From a BBC report

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-15336689

“It emerged as the radical youth wing of Somalia’s now-defunct Union of Islamic Courts, which controlled Mogadishu in 2006, before being forced out by Ethiopian forces.

There are numerous reports of foreign jihadists going to Somalia to help al-Shabab, from neighboring countries, as well as the US and Europe.  It is banned as a terrorist group by both the US and the UK and is believed to have between 7,000 and 9,000 fighters.  Al-Shabab advocates the Saudi-inspired Wahhabi version of Islam, while most Somalis are Sufis. 

It has imposed a strict version of Sharia in areas under its control, including stoning to death women accused of adultery and amputating the hands of thieves.”

Al Shabab executed the passengers of a bus

 Al-Shabab’ Somali Jihadists have been welcomed 2020 with lots of Jihad

NAIROBI, Kenya (AP) Jan 18, 2020 — At least two people were killed and more than 20 others wounded when a suicide car bomber targeted a construction site along a highway outside Somalia’s capital, police said Saturday. Six Turkish nationals were among the wounded, with two in serious condition, Turkish Health Minister Fahrettin Koca said. The Turkish construction workers appeared to be the bomber’s target, Somali police Col. Abdi Abdullahi said. Most of the casualties were police officers providing security for the Turkish workers constructing a highway between the capital, Mogadishu, and the agricultural town of Afgoye, 30 kilometers (18 miles) north of the city. The al-Qaida-linked al-Shabab extremist group, based in Somalia, claimed responsibility for the attack, according to the the group’s radio arm, Andalus. Al-Shabab often carries out such attacks in and near Mogadishu. Turkey has invested heavily in Somalia, with technical and development assistance exceeding $1 billion, according to the Turkish government. Turkish companies run the international airport and seaport in Mogadishu, and in 2016 the Turkish president inaugurated Turkey’s largest embassy complex in the world there.”

https://www.keloland.com/news/national-world-news/at-least-2-killed-20-wounded-in-bombing-near-somali-capital/

NPR, December 28, 2019…A truck bomb in Somalia’s capital, Mogadishu, killed at least 79 people today. More than 100 were injured. It was the worst attack in the city in two years, and the country’s president has placed the blame on the Islamist group al-Shabab”

https://www.npr.org/2019/12/28/792088722/somalia-bombing-kills-at-least-79

Critical Threats Project 2019 assesment of Al-Shabab capabilities and intentions

https://www.criticalthreats.org/analysis/al-shabaab-area-of-operations-october-2018

“Al Shabaab holds territory surrounding the capital, Mogadishu, from which it coordinates complex attacks targeting the Somali Federal Government.[5] Increased counterterrorism pressure may have reduced the overall volume of attacks in Mogadishu, but the city is not yet secure.[6] Key al Shabaab sanctuaries persist in central Somalia, especially in Lower and Middle Shabelle regions, and in southern Somalia in Bay, Gedo, and Middle and Lower Jubba regions. Al Shabaab is able to project force from Somalia and safe havens along the eastern border with Kenya to attack Kenyan security forces and soft targets in Kenya’s Mandera, Wajir, Garissa, and Lamu counties.”

https://www.criticalthreats.org/analysis/al-shabaab-area-of-operations-october-2018

     In closing I would set straight a couple of facts about Canada and slavery.

      Slavery has been part of all human cultures. It is in the earliest records we have. Europeans were the first Empire in human history to have abolished it. Canada as a Nation State responsible for our own affairs was formed in 1887. Slavery was abolished throughout the British Empire in 1833. No human being has ever legally been brought into Canada as the possession of another human being. In fact the colony of lower Canada, now Ontario, and its Canadian political class with the avid support of its citizens were at the forefront of the abolitionist movement. In 1793 the Act to abolish slavery was passed in the Upper Canada legislature

John Graves Simcoe, Lieutenant Governor of the colony, had been a supporter of abolition before coming to Upper Canada; as a British Member of Parliament, he had described slavery as an offence against Christianity.[2][3] By 1792 the slave population in Upper Canada was not large. However, when compared with the number of free settlers, the number was not insignificant. In York (the present-day city of Toronto) there were 15 African-Canadians living, while in Quebec some 1000 slaves could be found. Furthermore, by the time the Act Against Slavery would be ratified, the number of slaves residing in Upper Canada had been significantly increased by the arrival of Loyalists refugees from the south who brought with them servants and slaves.[4]

At the inaugural meeting of the Executive Council of Upper Canada in March 1793, Simcoe heard from a witness the story of Chloe Cooley, a female slave who had been violently removed from Canada for sale in the United States. Simcoe’s desire to abolish slavery in Upper Canada was resisted by members of the Legislative Assembly who owned slaves, and therefore the resulting act was a compromise.[2] The bulk of the text is due to John White, the Attorney General of the day. Of the 16 members of the assembly, at least six owned slaves.[5]

The law, titled An Act to Prevent the further Introduction of Slaves and to limit the Term of Contracts for Servitude within this Province, stated that while all slaves in the province would remain enslaved until death, no new slaves could be brought into Upper Canada, and children born to female slaves after passage of the act would be freed at the age of 25.[6]

This law made Upper Canada “the first British colony to abolish slavery”.[5][7] The Act remained in force until 1833 when the British Parliament‘s Slavery Abolition Act abolished slavery in most parts of the British Empire.

Chief Justice of Upper Canada William Osgoode followed up 10 years later

“In 1803, Chief Justice William Osgoode placed on the law books the ruling that slavery was inconsistent with British law. Although this did not legally abolish slavery, 300 slaves were set free in Lower Canada (the future Quebec). Citizens who wanted to bargain in the slave trade had no protection from the courts. The decline of slavery took place in Upper Canada as well. The short growing season and cost of feeding and clothing slaves, along with abolitionist sentiment stirred by Simcoe, caused more and more slaves to be set free. Future lieutenant governors of Upper Canada, like Sir Peregrine Maitland, continued the humanitarian spirit of Simcoe and offered Black veterans grants of land. The desire to stamp out slavery in Upper and Lower Canada was so strong that an application from Washington, D.C. to allow American slave owners to follow fugitive slaves into British Territory was flatly denied. Judges who favored abolition were handing down more and more decisions against slave owners; as a result, when the British Imperial Act of 1833 abolished slavery throughout the British Empire, very few slaves remained in Upper and Lower Canada.

The decades after 1833 saw an increase in abolitionist sympathizers as the fugitive enslaved increased in number and found freedom in Canada. Anti-Slavery Societies also increased. George Brown, founder of the “Globe and Mail” newspaper, and Oliver Mowat, a future premier of the province of Ontario, joined the Toronto Anti-Slavery Society. At the first large and enthusiastic meeting at City Hall, it was resolved that “Slavery is an outrage to the laws of humanity and its continued practice demands the best exertions for its extinction.” The Society further declared that they would raise money to house, feed, and clothe the destitute travelers. Weeks and months spent making their way to freedom took a toll on the bodies and minds of the enslaved. Many died along the way. Still, thirty thousand (a conservative estimate) reached Canada between 1800 and 1860 according to the Anti-Slavery Society. Often upon reaching freedom, former slaves would kneel down, kiss the ground, and thank the good Lord that they were free, and then they would build churches for their spiritual growth and development, as well as that of future generations.”

http://www.pbs.org/black-culture/shows/list/underground-railroad/stories-freedom/abolition-slavery-canada/

     By way of comparison Somali Sultan Yusuf Mahamud Ibrahim (1798 – 1848), the third Sultan of the House of Gobroon ruled Somalia. He was victorious during the Bardheere Jihad, which ended with the Baardheere Jamaaca being destroyed and the city of Baardheere being burnt to the ground. Somalia during his entire reign was shipping hundreds of thousands of chained Jareer Bantu slaves all over the Muslim world leaving the Sultan counting his gold.

 Somalia remains today a dystopian failed state desoite sustained efforts of the African Union and International actors. Its failure is driven by deeply ingrained racism and clan rivalry. Somalia’s disintegration was not caused by its brief European colonial period. Unless you want to argue that ending slavery was the sole cause of its downfall. Somalia’s current state and any hope for its future lies soley in the hands of Somali’s. I truly do wish them the best.

   The truth is that neither Axmed Xuseen and Illhan Ohmar, nor the brutal xenophobic Somali society they originate from have anything to teach anyone about tolerance or morality. Anything they know about pluralistic society they learned here in North America.

   Axmed and Ilhan have been working a very deft con on all of us. They are not the descendants of slaves, they are descended from some of the most brutal slavers the world has ever known. Somalis are not in any way the victims of history.  Somalis are among its most stubornly unrepentant perpetrators.

William Ray

           Somalia; A Racist Islamic Slave Empire Authors note; As always follow the links and research on your own, believing random dudes on the internet is how we got here.

[ericpoptone]

Yao Su Rong (“姚蘇蓉“) is a Taiwanese singer and actress born on this day, 5 December, in 1946. Today she’s still best-known for her 1969 hit recording of “今天不回家” (“Today I Won’t Come Home”), the title track of a film of the same name. Her career was cut short at its peak by Kuomintang (KMT) authorities who revoked her license to entertain. Soon after she left to enjoy success in Hong Kong, and then Singapore (where she lives today).

Under the Japanese occupation of Taiwan (1895-1945), enka or, more broadly, ryūkōka was introduced to Tawain and with it, strains of western music like mambo, jazz, and country — albeit filtered through a Japanese sensibility. Many Taiwanese singers found pursued careers as enka singers in Japan. After the defeat of Japan in 1945, Taiwan became part of the Republic of China (ROC) — then engaged in a civil war with the Communist Party of China. After the defeat of the ROC, the KMT retreated to the island in 1949 and established a brutal, US-backed dictatorship. Under KMT rule, native Taiwanese culture was suppressed and Mandarin was promoted as the official language.

It took time for Mandarin-language pop to find favor with a mainstream Taiwanese. Along with artists like 謝雷 (Xie Lei) and his band, Lucky Trio, Yao began making inroads with music which drew upon enka, shidaiqu, and newer western sounds like beat and soul. Yao’s first records were released by Large World Records, a local Taiwanese label that primarily catered to American and Australian soldiers serving at military bases in Taiwan. Before Yao recorded for the label, they primarily released music by American and British artists like The Beatles, Skeeter Davis, The Supremes, and The Seeds (amongst others).

In 1967, Yao moved to Haishan Records. Like Large World, their early releases had been Taiwanese pressings of western releases, in the case of Haishan, releases by the likes of Dusty Springfield, Eddy Arnold, and Hank Williams (among others). By the second half of the 1960s, Haishan had begun releasing music by Hong Konger’s like 華怡保 (Ruby Wah) and 仙杜拉 (Sandra Lang), as well as Taiwanese acts like 于旋 (Yu Xuan) and The Phenix Sisters.

Yao’s first record at Haishan was composed by 李潔心 (Li Jie Xin), arranged by 林家慶 (Lin Jia Qing), but her collaborators over the next few years would be many — a fact which no doubt accounts for the stylistic variety of her large body of work. Some songs have cinematic, quasi-western strings and brass, others lean towards organ-driven rhythm & blues. All of it has the same sort of melodic, psychedelic funkiness that characterizes so much East Asian pop from that era — regardless of whether from Singapore, Korea, Japan, or elsewhere.

Yao sang in a clear, passionate voice that — along with her penchant for her misty-eyed performances — earned her the nickname, “the Queen of Tears.” One of her hits was a Mandarin-language cover of the Japanese song, “負心的人” (“Cruel-Hearted Lover”). Not everyone was a fan, however, and the nation’s long-misruling dictator, Chiang Kai-shek, did not approve of weeping popstars or the danger of sentimental ballads inflaming the passion of his subjects. More than 80 of Yao’s songs were thus banned.

In 1968, she released the first of two albums backed by Li Sheng Yang‘s band, The Telstar Combo. In 1969, she released the first of several collaborations with the aforementioned Taiwanese singer, 謝雷 (Xie Lei). On 18 August 1969, Yao performed for an audience in Kaohsiung. They cried out for requests, in particular, “今天不回家.” Yao initially apologized and refused, as the song was amongst those banned by the authorities. Eventually, however, she gave in. Authorities at the performance were not amused. Yao refused to provide a playlist or issue an apology and so her license to perform was revoked. Afterward, she moved to Hong Kong.

In 1970, Yao began recording for a Hong Kong label, 樂風. There, and that year, she released her first of several collaborations with various others, including 陳寶玲 (Chen Bao Ling), 與 蒋光超 (Jiang Guang Chao), 藍夢 (Lan Meng), 趙曉君 (Lily Chao), 青山 (Qing Shan), 奚秀蘭 (Stella Chee), 魏平澳 (Wei Ping Ao), 楊燕 (Yang Yan), and 張帝 (Zhang Di). Sorting out her discography is rather difficult due to its size, the multitude of re-releases, and my extremely remedial grasp of Chinese. I have, nevertheless, attempted to compile a fairly inclusive discography here of studio albums (although some are no doubt compilations and at least one, although attributed to Yao, features a handful of tracks sung by multiple artists).

DISCOGRAPHY

1966 – Oh Summer Wine 夢裡情侶 / 阿哥哥( 第二集 ) (Large World)

1966 – A Go Go 阿哥哥 ‎(Large World)

Yao Su Yong’s Highlight / A Go Go (Haishan Records)

1967 – 負心的人 (Haishan Records)

1968 – 偷心的人 / Yao Su Yong’s & The Telstar Combo (Haishan Records)

1968 – 臨別的一笑 + 關達拉美娜 (Haishan Records)

1968 – 聽我細訴 ‎(Haishan Records)

1969 – 今天不回家 / Yao Su Yong’s & The Telstar Combo (Haishan Records)

1969 – 跟你一起走 ‎(孔雀唱片)

1969 – [with 謝雷 (Xie Lei)] 安平回想曲 ‎(Haishan Records)

1969 – 紫丁香 ‎(Haishan Records)

1970 – 歌曲精選 (樂風)

1970 – [with 謝雷 (Xie Lei)] 恨你入骨 (樂風)

1970 – [with 與 蒋光超 (Jiang Guang Chao)] 鳳還巢 (樂風)

1970 – [with 與 蒋光超 (Jiang Guang Chao)] 小翠 / 雲翠仙 (Haishan Records)

1970 – 姚蘇蓉之歌 / 瘋靡港台星馬登台精選歌集 (Cartoon Record)

1970 – 電影明星”姚蘇蓉”歌曲精選 / Movie-Star “Yao Su Yong” Sings (樂風)

1970 – 夢的世界 (樂風)

1970 – 金唱片歌集 (樂風)

1970 – 夢的祈禱 (Haishan Records)

1970 – 像霧又像花 (樂風)

1970 – 家在台北 (Haishan Records)

1970 – 七部最新電影插曲精選 (樂風)

1970 – [with 謝雷 (Xie Lei)] 不要拋棄我! (樂風)

1970 – 我要結婚 (樂風)

1970 – [with 青山 (Qing Shan)] 金唱片歌集 (樂風)

1970 – 心聲淚痕 (Yu Shan Record)

1970 – 妳我她 (雄獅唱片)

1970 – 那是什麼聲音 (樂風)

1970 – [with 謝雷 (Xie Lei), 趙曉君 (Lily Chao), and 楊燕 (Yang Yan)] 結婚好不好 / 有男懷春 (樂風)

1970 – [with 青山 (Qing Shan)] 郎變了 (Leico Record)

1970 – 電影明星”姚蘇蓉”歌曲精選 / Movie-Star “Yao Su Yong” Sings (樂風)

1970 – 郎變了 (樂風)

1970 – 本年度最佳八部電影原聲帶 (Ligo)

1970 – 巡回东南亚演唱名曲专集 (一寸相思一寸泪) (Haishan Records)

1970 – 精選歌曲十八首 (樂風)

1970 – 歌王歌后 (Haishan Records)

1970 – 當你離家時 (樂風)

1970 – 爸爸 ! 嫣嫣 ! (Yu Shan Record)

1970 – 最長的約會 (樂風)

1970 – 我等你回來 I Am Waiting For You (藝風)

1971 – 偷偷愛你 ‎(Haishan Records)

1971 – 想起你的時候 (萬福牌)

1971 – [with 張帝 (Zhang Di)] 張帝找阿珠 (樂風)

1971 – Love Is Forever 不變的情 (Crown Records)

1971 – [with 魏平澳 (Wei Ping Ao), 藍夢 (Lan Meng), 奚秀蘭 (Stella Chee), 韋邦 (Wei Bang), and 陳寶玲 (Chen Bao Ling)] 最新三部電影插曲 “昨夜夢魂中”, “湄南河之歌” & “情人的秘密” (樂風)

1970 – 心聲淚痕 / 咪咪貓 (四海唱片)

1971 – 女人的命運 / 我不要離婚 (Haishan Records)

1971 – 太太回娘家 (Haishan Records)

1971 – 出賣愛情的人 / 藍與黑 ‎(Haishan Records)

1971 – 行行出狀元 ‎(Haishan Records)

1971 – 單身女郎 (Haishan Records)

1973 – 我不���再想你 / 你的電話又來到 (大聯機構 Great Union Organisation)

1973 – 默默盼歸期 (大聯機構 Great Union Organisation)

1973 – 想起你的時後 (Haishan Records)

1973 – 我求你騙我騙到底 (大聯機構 Great Union Organisation)

1973 – 風雲鼓手 ‎(Haishan Records)

1973 – 你就這樣走了 / 白雲飄向誰 / 徘徊十字路 ‎(Haishan Records)

1975 – 告訴我為什麼 / 一份埋藏的心意 (Haishan Records)

1977 – 再來的希望 愛的路上千萬裡 (大聯機構 Great Union Organisation)

1977 – [accompanied by The Stylers] 孟麗君 / 滿庭芳 (Prinstar Records)

1978 – [with 蒋光超 (Jiang Guang Chao)] 雙喜臨門 (Uniart Amusement Enterprise)

Yao’s first album for a Singaporean label was released in 1973, and it’s around that time that she may’ve settled there. Most of her work after that was released on Singaporean labels (including a collaboration with the great Singaporean band, The Stylers, who often backed the great Lisa Wong (麗莎) and Lena Lim (林竹君)).

His Excellency Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek died in 1975, ushering in a period of democratic reform which culminated in the 1987 end of the White Terror — the then-longest period of martial law in world history (since surpassed by Syria). Today, Taiwan is easily among the most progressive and nations in Asia. Although Yao’s last album seems to have been released in 1978, she was still regularly performing live as late as 1980 — albeit never in Taiwan. In 1996, 今天不回家 was remade by Taiwanese director, Sylvia Chang. Yao’s recording of the title song was again featured. In 1998, the organizers of the Golden Horse Film Festival invited Yao to return to the island to perform. Yao declined. In 2007, the Jay Chou (周杰倫) film, 不能說的·秘密 (Secret), used another vintage Yao song, “情人的眼泪” (Lovers’ Tears). Apparently, Yao only became aware of this when informed by a relative in Chengdu whom she was visiting at the time of the film’s release.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0V6Y8eB2pSbjA8udzvmPs3?si=2hb4umRGROu1YNhqPZYIIA

Wherever you are, 姚蘇蓉, here’s wishing you a happy birthday!

Eric Brightwell is an adventurer, essayist, rambler, explorer, cartographer, and guerrilla gardener who is always seeking paid writing, speaking, traveling, and art opportunities. He is not interested in generating advertorials, cranking out clickbait, or laboring away in a listicle mill “for exposure.”

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    Yao Su Rong (姚蘇蓉) Yao Su Rong ("姚蘇蓉") is a Taiwanese singer and actress born on this day, 5 December, in 1946.

[ibijau]

Burn it down AU // on AO3 // extras on AO3

extra: During the Sunshot Campaign, Lan Xichen has a conversation with his uncle that doesn’t go how he planned.

warning for canon typical levels of homophobia and, like a lot of bad emotions because in book canon LXC is 19-20 when the war starts and that’s a lot of stuff for a young man that age to go through :D

It is near impossible for Lan Xichen to focus on the conversation with his uncle as they discuss the campaign in his office. Although he knows how important it is, how many lives are stake, he simply cannot keep his mind on the war. His thoughts keep going back to the handful of hours he just spent holding Nie Huaisang and kissing him, how his eyes shone with happiness, the softness of his hair, the taste of his tongue, the warmth of his skin, the… 

"Xichen, are you even listening?" 

"Apologies, uncle," he quickly mumbles. "It has been a long day." 

"And that day would be over already if you hadn't lost so much time with that Nie boy. I asked how you obtained that information about Nightless City's defences." 

Lan Xichen hesitates. It is wrong to keep secrets. It is wrong to deny his uncle's request. But surely it would be more wrong to say anything that might put dear Meng Yao in greater danger than he already is? 

Being a sect leader is nothing but a series of compromises, and it is so difficult to know right from wrong. 

"When the time is right, I will reveal it. For now, I can only say that I trust the source of this information. But these are dark times, uncle, and it is better if I remain the only one to know certain things." 

To Lan Xichen's surprise, his uncle nods. 

"The Wens have come here once, they could come here again. Keep the secret for now if you feel it is needed." 

"Thank you, uncle." 

"Hm. I think we've talked about everything urgent. You may retire for the night, anything less pressing can wait." 

That, of course, is the chance that Lan Xichen has been waiting for since he joined his uncle in his office. He takes a deep breath, and steels himself. 

"Uncle, if you do not mind… There is one more thing I would like to talk about. It does not concern the campaign, but it is important nonetheless. Would you let me have a little more of your time?" 

Lan Qiren, who had started standing up, sits down again and gestures for his nephew to go on. Lan Xichen takes another deep breath, and hurriedly wonders how to breach the matter. 

In spite of how long he has loved Nie Huaisang, Lan Xichen finds himself wholly unprepared for this situation. After all, while they had a certain friendship going on, Nie Huaisang had never given any sign that he held some preference for his brother's friend. He has always been cheerful and open and teasing with Lan Xichen, but since he is like that with everyone, it didn't seem to mean much. 

And yet, there's no doubt possible now. Nie Huaisang cares, perhaps just as strongly as Lan Xichen does. 

"Well? What was it?" his uncle asks, getting impatient. 

"Uncle, there is… It is not easy to say. But for some time now, I have felt very strongly for another boy, and it has recently been revealed to me that this boy too…" 

He is interrupted by his uncle slamming his hand on his desk, his face dark with anger. 

"You will forget about this boy," Lan Qiren orders. "I do not want to hear another word of such nonsense." 

"The rules of our sect dictate we must look for our true match, a dual cultivation partner that fits us," Lan Xichen meekly objects, half surprised by his own daring. "How is it nonsense for me to do so?" 

His uncle glares at him for what he must perceive at insolence. At a normal time, this would be enough for Lan Xichen to fall in line, years of discipline having nearly broken what rebellion ever existed in him. 

But this is not a normal time. Today his lips still tingle from being kissed by the person he loves, and to get more of that, Lan Xichen is ready to fight even the uncle who half terrifies him. 

"Uncle, this is not something I say lightly," he insists. "I truly love him, I wish to spend my life with him, and I believe he will be exactly the partner I need, not only in private but also in public." 

He means that. Nie Huaisang, after all, is so clever when he wants. Much smarter than people give him credit for, certainly. Lan Xichen has seen him discreetly defuse tense situations at times when Nie Mingjue was provoked into anger. He has also seen how, when they were guest disciples, Nie Huaisang often found ways to distract Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanying whenever Jin Zixuan would do or say something that upset them. It is certainly a great skill for a sect leader's husband to have. 

And as for the private aspect… Aside from having just been revealed as a wonderful kisser, Nie Huaisang is simply someone who has always made Lan Xichen happy. He has never treated him with the distant politeness that everyone gave him as heir to such a major sect. Nie Huaisang, from their very first meeting, has called him Xichen-gege and teased him with the same carefree attitude he had with Nie Mingjue. Sometimes, Lan Xichen thinks that he fell in love on that first day, even if the realisation of it only came later. 

"Love has no place in a sect leader's life," his uncle snaps. "Look what good it did your father!" 

The attack is not unexpected, but Lan Xichen still feels the sting of it. 

"It is different. Unlike father, my feelings are returned." 

"Returned or not, it makes no difference. When you marry, it will be to help us secure an alliance…" 

"His family is a prominent one," Lan Xichen weakly interjects. 

"It will be to secure an alliance and an heir," Lan Qiren claims. "Can that boy of yours carry a child for you? Or was I lied to about what you are, and you can actually bear another man's child?" 

"I cannot," his nephew admits, clenching his fists. "Neither can he. But uncle…" 

"Everything you have, everything you are, you owe it to the position you were born in. In return, your duty is to serve your sect and your clan. When the time is right, I will find you a dutiful wife. Until then, I do not want to ever hear you talk about this again. You are dismissed."

Lan Xichen clenches his fists. He feels something wet fall on his cheeks and wonders, idly, when he cried for the last time. His mother's death probably. It was not allowed after that. A future sect leader had to be trained out of expressing emotions in such an obvious way, and Lan Xichen always was a good student. 

The tears are not solely for being denied the right to his true love, though after so many months of horror, it is the last drop. He has lost so much, several of his people died when the Cloud Recesses were burned, his sect history is nearly entirely lost save what he could take with him when he ran, his brother was almost lost to a monster, his father passed away while he was running for his life, and there's a war now, so many people depend on him, many of which have perished already because this is a war and he's not ready for this and… 

Lan Xichen could bear with all this. It is his duty. He just wants one comfort, one good thing. He wants to be allowed one selfish desire. 

He wants Nie Huaisang. 

When his uncle starts getting up, Lan Xichen grabs his sleeve like the capricious child he knows he must look like. 

"Uncle, I beg you, I will do anything you ask if you allow me to court him. Let me have this. I am serious about this, I am sincere, I promise you will not regret it if you let me have him. It is not some fanciful passion, I love him, I have loved him so long. Uncle, please, when have I ever asked for a favour?"

Lan Qiren glares at him. Lan Xichen's tears double as he realises this is a fight he cannot win, but he maintains his hold on his uncle's sleeve. The moment he lets go, Nie Huaisang is lost to him. He cannot let go. He cannot lose this as well. 

"If you get what you want, Wangji cannot," Lan Qiren says, in the patient yet condescending tone he uses on his students. "You know your brother as well as I do. Can you imagine him marrying a woman, even to give the clan an heir?" 

That's his problem, not mine, Lan Xichen wants to scream, only for crippling guilt to immediately devour him. He remembers their mother, slowly dying of a disease never explained to them, asking him to take care of his little brother. Someone has to make sure A-Zhan smiles, she'd told him many times. When I'm gone, make sure he still gets to smile. 

Lan Xichen sobs, his fingers clenching on his uncle's sleeve. 

It is true that Lan Wangji has always shown a clear preference for other boys and no interest whatsoever in girls. It is equally clear that Wangji is in love, and for three months scoured the country with Jiang Cheng, desperately trying to find out what happened to the boy he adores. And though they have their arguments, Wei Wuxian is the only person who can make Land Wangji smile, now that their mother is dead. 

It is true also that, in general, Lan Xichen has never felt any strong preference between men and women. Marrying someone who will bear an heir for the clan is not something that fills him with disgust the way it might Lan Wangji. He can do this, if it comes to that. 

He doesn't want it to come to that. He doesn't want a man or a woman. He wants Nie Huaisang who smiles like a fox and moves like a bird. Nie Huaisang who cried because he thought him dead, and kissed him. Nie Huaisang who made such sweet noises as they chased pleasure together, then laughed so softly, as if nothing in the world could be better than to be in Lan Xichen's arms. Nie Huaisang whom he loves, who is so perfect for him in every aspect. Nie Huaisang who should be his, but never will be. 

"But I love him," Lan Xichen whimpers, defeated. "Uncle, I really love him, what am going to do?"

Lan Qiren kneels next to him. Through the tears, Lan Xichen thinks he can see pity on his stern uncle's face, and that might be worse than his earlier anger. He nearly flinches when Lan Qiren awkwardly pats his shoulder, neither of them used to this. 

"Avoid his company," Lan Qiren orders. "Avoid his conversation. If you can, avoid looking at him even. Meditate when you are tempted to seek him out. If your will is strong enough, you will easily get over this fancy of yours."

“Uncle, I cannot…”

“You must. You will. Or are you so weak that you can’t overcome the failings of your body and heart? You are a sect leader now, Xichen. Do not follow in your father's footsteps by letting your passions conquer you." 

With one last desperate sob, Lan Xichen finally lets go of his uncle's sleeve and tries to collect himself. All of Gusu Lan has suffered from his father's decisions, he reminds himself, taking one shaky breath after the other. His uncle has paid the price of Qingheng-Jun's choice, forced to bear the weight of their sect when inclination and birth should have allowed him to dedicate himself to his studies. 

Lan Xichen will be a better sect leader, a better brother. 

"Thank you for your time and advice, uncle" he says in a voice he cannot stop from shaking. "I will do my best to live up to your expectations." 

"I know you will," Lan Qiren replies, squeezing his shoulder before quickly letting go. "You may go." 

Lan Xichen doesn't need to be told twice. He springs to his feet and rushes back to the Hanshi, as fast as he can without running. His head hurts from crying, and there is an uncomfortable dampness between his legs. Earlier he was half happy with that sticky sensation, a reminder that he did not dream what happened. Now it makes him want to tear his own skin away. As soon as he is inside his home, he sheds his clothes, dropping them on the floor without care. Using a towel and water, Lan Xichen scrubs his legs and groin until they are red and sore, trying to erase any trace of those stolen moments he needs to forget. 

When he is satisfied with his work, he goes to sleep and quickly passes out, exhausted by a day that promised so much and delivered so little. 

In the morning, Lan Xichen sees Nie Huaisang at breakfast. The other boy spots him as well and smiles so brightly that it is nearly blinding. It takes all of Lan Xichen’s willpower not to join him. Instead he goes to sit with his uncle, and leaves again as soon as he is done eating. 

Busy as he is, Lan Xichen finds that the day passes quickly. The elders who remain in the Cloud Recesses commend his dedication when he skips lunch, but force him to have a servant bring him something when he makes it clear he wants to avoid dinner as well. Lan Xichen reluctantly agrees, and eats alone in the Hanshi with some reports in front of him. If he handles things well, he can leave for the front in a day or two.

There is so much to organise, and Lan Xichen does not want to stay in the Cloud Recesses a moment more than necessary. He will have to avoid his own home until the war is won and Nie Huaisang can return to Qinghe.