#yby tag

[yunmeng-jiang]

ok I'm on episode 15-16 of WoH and here are my thoughts so far:

Gu Xiang is like if Jiang Cheng's daughter was also Wei Wuxian's protege. She's the worst of Jin Ling and Wei Wuxian put together and I love her.

She and Cao Weining are like Xuanli if Jiang Yanli had turned out the way Yu Ziyuan wanted her to.

Cao Weining!!! He's so endearing!!!!

I'm coming around on Wen Kexing. I totally didn't trust him before but it seems like he actually cares a lot about Zhou Zishu now. I believe they can work things out between them.

Chengling is my baby son and I hope nothing bad ever happens to him. I'm taking him and putting him in a cozy blanket nest and feeding him soup and hot cocoa.

I feel really bad for Gao Xiaolian. Poor girl. I want her to have a happy ending but it's not looking good for her at the moment.

Han Ying is totally gonna die I'm calling it now. He's too good and narratively convenient to live much longer.

Tragicomic Ghost and Liu Qianqiao are such a power duo. Yes queens kill those lame-ass men! I kinda don't like that they both seem to have tragic love stories with random middle-aged men who possibly abandoned them though.

I NEED to see more of Scorpion King. I keep seeing him in the opening (and closing?) credits and I'm fascinated by him but he's only had like 2 seconds of screentime so far and I'm so curious.

Just met Ye Baiyi and I'm not sure what to think about him. I feel like something really big has to happen for Zhou Zishu to change his mind about the life-saving surgery.

Shen Shen is really annoying. I hope bad things happen to him.

[mx-myth]

Saw this douyin on YouTube and all I could think of is that this zeng shunxi (dressed for the legend of rosy clouds I believe?) looks EXACTLY like how I would envision a younger ye baiyi

[muraenide]

I sold you to a pet store

Sounds pretty accurate 😎 as for the breeding difficulty, probably never found him a mate that could survive past a day in the same cage.

Tagged by: @sweetlybite (thank you~)

Tagging: @kalfov (Sam and Ana!), @taiixuan (Scara), @baijingshen (YBY and WKX), @ubiquitarian (Quanxi and Kishibe), @lunaetis (Misaya and Olympia), @vishapsking, @jinanreona, @oftwilight (ZZS and HY).

[janedrewfinally]

Best tags are the best:

#yby to zzs

your poor little meow meow fucking bit me

[nancywheelxr]

i'm not sure if you prefer more specific prompts but if you have any interest, something canon-era (compliant or divergence) in the realm of "ye baiyi & every- or anyone"? whichever characters you wanna include; a moment or moments where he feels like maybe there is a little more to the rest of his life than duty and death. it's not only warm food he's been starved of for decades. your writing is great, i hope you're having a good day!

hi! thank you sm! i love getting prompts regardless, honestly, the only difference is that more specific ones tend to get done faster if only bc I already have a loose idea where to go with it! anyway, this somehow turned into a fix-it. that being said, I hope you’re having a lovely day too!

*

i.

They’re so painfully young.

A bird chirps in a tree somewhere nearby and around the fire, Qin Huaizhang’s disciple throws the blanket on the Wen brat’s face. What set off his sensibilities this time, Ye Baiyi doesn’t know, it might have been the perceived coddling, it might have simply been the fussing– either way, it’s pointless. Does he not know the brat will simply wait until he’s asleep to cover him? Does he not know their ridiculous dance around each other is nothing but time wasted?

How do the young ever get anything done?

Foolish. Have they ever been that foolish? Changqing, he knows, was a most ridiculous man with even more ridiculous ideas– who’s the bigger idiot, then, the fool or the one who loves him? 

“Ye-qianbei,” the boy appears at his side, wide-eyed like a newborn deer and with legs as shaky as one too, “if you’re cold, we have more blankets.”

The absurdity of the situation– to ask Ye Baiyi if he’s cold! What’s the night chill compared to the snowy grounds of his mountain? To him, is this not warm weather? “Little fool,” he says, shaking his head even as he laughs, “you’d do better worrying about your idiot master and his idiot friend.”

The kid looks across the fire, grimaces. “I don’t dare, I don’t dare! My brothers used to tell me not to get in the way when my parents were arguing!”

What a ridiculous child. Ye Baiyi laughs again. “They’re not arguing, they’re being dumb. Watch this,” he flicks a little rock at them, hitting Qin Huaizhang’s disciple in the forehead and earning an outraged glare from the Wen brat. “Qing Huaizhang’s disciple, your disciple is freezing off while you’re fooling around. Is this how you the two of you are going to raise your child?”

Beside him, the kid makes a startled little noise like a scared little rabbit before launching into a stuttering denial, but it’s too late, Qin Huaizhang’s disciple has already turned to focus on him as if smelling blood. “Chengling, are you cold? Why didn’t you say so?”

“Ah, no, no, I’m really not,” he tries, but he is, he wouldn’t have known to worry about others if he hadn’t been feeling the chill himself. “Ye-qianbei! Ye-qianbei–”

“Ah, ah!” Wen Kexing interrupts, shaking a finger in his direction, “why are you calling him? Come here, have this blanket since your Shifu is being stubborn.”

The boy goes obediently, shuffling around and nearly tripping on the log, and allows the Wen brat to wrap the blanket around his shoulders. Predictably, once he’s tucked in, the kid beams, pulling it tightly around himself. 

“Chengling, if you’re cold, you have to tell us,” says Qin Huaizhang’s disciple as if that’s a scolding, as if he’s not fussing over the child himself, stoking the fire and throwing in more kindling. 

A silly child with even sillier parents. Ye Baiyi snorts, shaking his head, and for a fleeting moment, he imagines walking this path alone– searching for the truth on his own, a silent forest stretching all the way to Longyuan Cabinet, only his footsteps left behind to prove he was even there at all– whatever. Picking up Qin Huaizhang’s dumb disciple and his dumb companions might not have been his worst decision so far. 

Maybe he could have found the place already if he were on his own, but at the very least they’re entertaining. Ridiculous, he thinks fondly, shaking his head at the blanket the kid has left folded at his feet.

*

ii.

What a mess.

Rong Xuan, you little brat, he thinks. How long has it been since the boy had first toddled up to him, little hands grabbing fistfuls of his robes? Too many, an eternity, and now nearly all of the boy’s friends are dead, all but one, and Ye Baiyi has to pay his respects to this freshly dug grave in his place. 

What a mess.

If you were in trouble, why didn’t you come back? Questions, questions, it’s too easy to ask them now. Why didn’t you ask for help? Why didn’t you send for us? Why did you think it would accomplish, running away? Stupid child, did you think we would turn you away? 

No, there’s no use asking them now, no point in dwelling in the past. What is there to change, after it already happened? Life is a very long road and the past is a land too distant to travel back to; Ye Baiyi would rather focus on the now.

Avenging their child had not been part of the promise he made to Changqing, but Ye Baiyi found the truth of this matter as he told him he would and the truth of it is that someone poisoned his disciple, his child. This cannot go unpunished, so for a while longer, he’ll live.

Further still, a little ways down, is Wen Kexing, whose parents died for Rong Xuan’s mistakes. A child growing up in a harsh world on his own. This debt, he’ll repay too.

For all that he gives his promises away like currency, Ye Baiyi is not sure how he feels about the piling of them– they stretch his finally numbered days, always pushing the deadline further. After the Heroes Conference, he’ll be done with the Ghost Valley. After he finds Rong Xuan’s murderer, he’ll be done with this mess. After he repays Wen Kexing, he will be at peace. 

And then–

Well. And then wine. Warm food. That was the plan, was it not? Heavens, he’s beginning to sound like Qin Huaizhang’s silly disciple, isn’t he? This won’t do. Changqing, even you would laugh at them. Tell me, then, if you were here, what would you do? Ah, something nonsensical, most likely, like go watch the plum trees bloom.

Ye Baiyi shakes his head, laughs. Changqing ah, won’t you tell me what to do? Maybe this time I’ll listen to you.

*

iii.

What kind of nonsense is this?

In all fairness, as much as his opinion of Wen Kexing has been as changing as the seasons, his uncanny ability to be an annoying nuisance has never flickered. He was annoying when he was staring down Ye Baiyi’s sword and he was annoying when he kneeled on the forest bed in apology and plea. 

Surely, it’s no surprise that he is annoying now, allegedly dead.

And yet, Ye Baiyi had not anticipated this level of stupidity from him: the brat did not tell Qin Huaizhang’s disciple of his plan.

Children, honestly. 

Now, the hem of his robes is wet and a few feet away, Qin Huaizhang’s disciple is wasting perfectly good wine in an unnecessarily dramatic manner. “Whatever stupid thing you’re planning,” Ye Baiyi says, eyeing the broken jar by the rocks, the dullness around the brat, “don’t.”

Zhou Zishu whirls on him with all the grace of a dying wet cat as if he’s in any condition to be fighting anyone, as if his hands weren’t shaking and his steps didn’t falter. The sword, once elegant and proud, wavers. Stupid boy. “Ye Baiyi, you–”

“Have you lost your manners down that jar? Or just your common sense? Put that away before I knock it off your hand myself,” he sighs, shaking his head. He should have stayed in his rooms, like planned, until the Heroes Conference; none of this has anything to do with him, his role in this play is mostly over, he just has to wait it out the intermission. And yet. “What kind of nonsense were you thinking? That fool, Wen Kexing, ran around for days like a headless chicken trying to save you and for what? You to throw it away?”

“What’s the point?” Qin Huaizhang’s disciple laughs, cold as the mountains, “what’s the point if he’s not here? Tell me, qianbei, why should I care to live if my soulmate is gone?”

His sword is dragging up the mud and Ye Baiyi wants to call him disrespectful for it, but the sight of it alone dredges up a well of grief that drowns the words in his throat. Why, indeed. This terrible emptiness, Ye Baiyi knows well– the hollow silence that comes where once a familiar voice called your name, the cold where once there was warmth, a hand never reaching back. Snow, all through summer and spring.

“Because that dumb disciple of yours will not last a day on his own,” he tells him, watching the water run towards the cliff’s edge, “because Qin Huaizhang has only you to pass on his legacy. Because that ridiculous hairpin on your head.”

“That’s not fair,” Qin Huaizhang’s disciple says, sounding exactly like he had been about to do something incredibly stupid earlier that would render this entire charade pointless from the start.

Truth be told, few things are, least of all, fate. Ah, but Ye Baiyi had unchanging decades to come to terms with that, perhaps he should spare the boy the heartache, unfounded as it is. “It’s not, but enough is enough. What are you crying for? Did you think it’s that easy to get rid of that pest? He should be ashamed if a little tumble is all it took.”

“Qianbei… you mean?”

Ye Baiyi heaves a pointedly tired sigh. “Yes, yes, the brat is alive. Probably holed up somewhere in that blasted valley of his.”

Qin Huaizhang’s disciple is as wide-eyed as his baby-deer disciple and if he actually starts crying, Ye Baiyi will drag Wen Kexing out of hiding kicking and screaming just to push him down the cliff again for making him witness this. He’s too old, he has little patience for the dramatics of the young, and he’s supposed to be drinking the best wine from the Yueyang area. 

So before he’s pulled even further into their nonsense, Ye Baiyi turns away, back to town and his quarters where he can drink and meditate in peace and really, Qin-xiaozi, your disciple is even sillier than you. 

At his back, he hears Zhou Zishu call, but his voice is lost to the waterfalls and Ye Baiyi makes no real effort to catch the words. What’s there to say? Pah, he’s already done more than his share on this, at no point did he promise to intervene on their pointless little dance. Once this is all over, that brat has better pay for all the wine in the land. And make those dumplings, too, for good measure.

*

iv.

Nobody told him whose wedding this is.

Considering they are in this thrice-damned place, he’s assuming it’s one of the ghosts, but Ye Baiyi figures the brat would be more annoying if it was his and Qin Huaizhang’s disciple’s. Then again, his own presence here is unfathomable, as is the insistence with which the little idiot had asked him to come. What on earth has Qin Huaizhang’s disciple told that child? Give someone an inch and they’ll take a mile, truly– now that boy is running around thinking Ye Baiyi cares about these lunatics.

“Who let him in!” Wen Kexing is screeching from somewhere, and Ye Baiyi mourns his peace as the brat approaches with his purple shadow trailing after. Had she been there this entire time? He squints. No, he would have noticed it, she’s very loud. “Old toad monster! Why are you still here? Who allowed you past the gates?”

“Who are you to tell me where to go?” He scoffs, flicking his sleeves as he crosses his arms. Nearby, a ghost hastily scurries away. “And it was your dumb disciple who begged me to be here. For what? Will there even be a banquet? And you call that decorations? That lantern is so crooked, it’s offensive!”

The purple child bristles. “Ah! And who does that silly boy think he is, inviting people to my wedding! Old man, you! Of course there’s gonna be food! Master and Luo-yi have been–”

“A-Xiang!” The brat cuts her off, closed fan tapping her forehead, as if everyone and their grandmothers don’t already know he’s been running around making preparations. What face is there to save, shameless as he is? If Ye Baiyi was a lesser man, he might have rolled his eyes. “Stop running your mouth, what is your husband going to say? And you! What crooked lantern? You’re going blind in your age!”

Still, even as he speaks, a pointed glare sends the ghosts scattering like mice, rushing to check on the decorations. Ridiculous. “No wonder the girl has no manners. What, you only know how to be polite when asking for something?”

Wen Kexing grumbles. “This one apologizes, qianbei.”

Well, that’s certainly worse. Unsettling. If even Wen Kexing starts being deferential, then what has the world come to? No, Ye Baiyi finds he’d prefer the brashness. Stupid child, what’s the point in changing his tune now? Pah. “Girl,” he says to that purple wisp of a thing, “your master is a pest. Where’s the wine?”

Baffling enough, the girl laughs, tugging at her master’s sleeves. “Master, master, Zishu-ge was right! You did make a friend!”

“What nonsense is this! Don’t you know when A-Xu is teasing? Friends! As if–”

“What rubbish have you been filling these children’s heads with?” He shakes a threatening finger in their direction. Not that it matters, considering the girl has already stepped back, giggling as she sidesteps Wen Kexing’s fan. 

Leaving them to their childishness, Ye Baiyi slips out of the crowd, picking a jar of wine as he goes. The alcohol is good, burning down his throat, and he hadn’t thought he’d step foot in the Ghost Valley, not like this. Something in him will always recoil at this place, always lay the blame at the valley’s mouth, a yawning jaw that’s swallowed whole the people most precious to him with no mercy. 

And yet, Changqing ah, you bastard, look at it. They’re holding a damned wedding, and here Ye Baiyi is, drinking their wine. Are you happy now? Did you become a bodhisattva yet? Fate makes fools of them all, there’s no way around it. He pours the wine over the rocks, lets it spill and run like blood. Xuan’er, did I not tell you not to climb so high? That shifu wouldn’t always be there to catch you if you slip on the ice? Ye Baiyi laughs at the memory– always clear in his mind, suspended in time, unfading, even if his sight blurs with tears– that boy, always scaring them half to death, climbing up the frozen mountainside as a child, then crying in fright once he looked down. 

“Look at the mess you’ve both left me,” he says out loud, downing the rest of the wine, and the silence is never quite as loud as in the hollow space where another would speak. For so long, Ye Baiyi knew to leave room for Changqing’s teasing, for their child’s incessant questions, even Rong-furen’s tired voice. Then, nothing. “What do you have to say for yourself, hm? Typical. I’ll drink for all of us this time, then, how about it? Changqing, I’m keeping my promises, so you’d better keep yours or I’ll–” 

The jar breaks where it falls from his fingers and he shakes his head as if dispelling the murky thoughts from his head. Perhaps, coming here was a mistake. The ashes have already been sent back to Changming, so what business does he have in this place? To see it closed with his own eyes? Besides, a wedding or two, a handful of people, are not worth the bloodshed creating the valley has brought, no matter what Changqing might say. 

Is this a comforting story to be told later, if– by the bridge, in case– 

His thoughts grind to a halt, veering off suddenly into attention to his surroundings. Someone is coming. Indeed, from his place near the entrance, Ye Baiyi can see in the distance a mob climbing up the path, silent as thieves in the night, with only a blue streak of disciples in plain sight at the front.

So much for avoiding bloodshed. Did they even wait for the dust to settle after the monks left town? And what kind of harebrained scheme is this? Has this generation been born with no brains? Such a reckless, petty move! No honor, agreeing to something and then plunging the knife behind their backs. 

There is little time to curse their dishonesty, though, with their numbers fast approaching, so Ye Baiyi swipes a last look at the desolate landscape and slips back inside to sound the alarms. After all, heaven knows that little purple girl will be terribly loud if she doesn’t get her wedding, and Ye Baiyi is not looking forward to remembering what headaches feel like. Honestly, if these people would stop nearly dying for five fucking minutes–

*

v.

Today, the mirror showed a new patch of white hair, faint lines at the corner of his eyes. 

Time, it seems, is catching up to him.

It’s exhilarating.

The plum trees have already lost their blossoms, winter gone as swiftly as it came, the cold melting to the lingering warmth of spring. Today, he walks past blooming azaleas, purple and red radiant against the blue backdrop of the sky.

It brings him to little Qin Huaizhang standing beside Rong Xuan, trying so very hard to impress his friend’s seniors with all the desperation of youth. The poetry he had waxed about his sect’s gardens– Four Seasons Manor, blooming all year round! Ye Baiyi had found him so silly, blabbering while Rong Xuan beamed, so quick to pick the fights Rong Xuan dropped. 

At the time, had he not thought history was repeating itself, if kinder? The Baiyi sword, gifted with the promise to keep his dumb disciple out of trouble? He still remembers Changqing’s face, the hypocrite. So exchanging swords for cursed books is fine, but anything else and you draw the line? At least promises were as reliable as the person making them. 

Now, he has to admit, the silly boy had not been wrong– Four Seasons Manor stands in more color than Ye Baiyi had thought possible. If he’ll have time to witness all its blooms, he doesn’t know, but this spring, he’s here, and isn’t that enough?

At the gates, the young disciple lets him in without a word, bowing respectfully like his seniors have never done. Good. At the very least, those two good-for-nothing brats had the decency to forewarn their juniors of his arrival. How long has it been since Qin Huaizhang’s disciple woke up from the procedure? Aiyah, Ye Baiyi can’t remember, he had been traveling south at the time. 

Well, it’s long enough to be past the need for coddling, that’s for sure. “Qin Huaizhang’s disciple, what kind of Sect Leader are you that you won’t come greet your esteemed guest?”

“Not really a Sect Leader,” comes the voice from his left as Zhou Zishu rounds into view, his silly disciple trailing faithfully after him. He looks better now, death no longer draped over his shoulders like a shroud, smiling like he found peace somewhere in the months since that disastrous wedding. “Qianbei, this one is honored to welcome you to our house. You’ve come at a good time, A-Xiang is visiting with her husband too.”

“Who’s an esteemed guest here? All I’m hearing is a bunch of freeloaders!” says Wen Kexing from somewhere inside the building, just as loud and brash as always, and following his words, the thundering footsteps of children. 

Ye Baiyi snorts, shakes his head. Changqing ah, wait a little while longer, will you? I’m on my way, but I have some places to visit first. Meet me by the bridge, I’ll tell you all about it in a bit.

[snarkspawn]

yea I'm late but I swear I started it on day 4: white

[borealiszero]

Guess who the hell read a book all night instead of sleeping

This is also a gift for @cremechees and @bespectacledfanmaiden thank you so much for the translations and the arts I love them!!!!!

[ID start: a digital drawing of Luo Mingchuan and Yin Biyue from Villain's White Lotus Halo. Luo Mingchuan is wearing light blue and white hanfu. His black hair is styled up with a black crown in a high ponytail. Yin Biyue is wearing white hanfu. His hair is white. Both are holding each other's hand, smiling brightly at the screen. The background is light pink decorated with soft pink flowers. // End of ID]

[headphonemouse]

Another screenshot redraw and something that I noticed happens a lot. Poor Wen Kexing, he tries so hard to take care of Zhou Zishu

[maikhiwi00]

"How do we “meet again”? I've been following you."

[tbgkaru-woh]

WIP title game

@omgpurplefattie tagged me in the WIP title game that is going around:

The current WIPs I am writing are:

Ask me what I'd take -- Chapter 3 (rongyexie)

Six time's the charm (yby 5+1 fic with different ships)

The first immortals (platonic rongye, universe fix it)

Something called ambition (yexie a/b/o)

Smithereens (wenzhou/rongye/xiyuan/zhaoxie horror AU)

I mostly want to focus on drabbles with different ships of the random ideas that keep appearing in my noggin rather than long fics but I still have some longfics here...

I actually don't know enough of my moots and/or who writes so ;v; whoever does, take this as a "go on!" from me, like I tagged you ♥

WIP title game

@tiny-breadcrumbs tagged me in the WIP title game that is going around:

The current WIPs I am writing are:

Detoxify -- Chapter 29

RV Lianhua Lou -- Ep 01 pt. 3

Street performer DFS

The End of the Tether

Tagging the same number of people as I have WIPs: @2fingerstyping @lyselkatz @tbgkaru-woh @eleanorfenyxwrites

[stolligaseptember]

LOVE that episode 27 starts with two (2) middle aged men who are at their absolute physical prime getting their asses so thoroughly kicked by one (1) senior citizen that they have to stumble their way back home leaning on each other for support

[randomingoftherandomness]

I swear, I’m god to honest not trying to start up anymore polyship tags, but this little ditty was rumbling around all afternoon and I couldn’t kick it out, so here it is.

Han Ying/Zhou Zishu/Wen Kexing ✌🏼

—

He loses himself in the lingering taste of sleep on Zhou Zishu’s lips, shuddering a little when he feels the responding probe of a tongue to his.

“Too much?” Han Ying hears purred as a different set of mouth leave biting kisses down his neck and hands that pin him to the bed by his naked hips anchor him to the sensations of being pressed between these two men.

It’s too much and yet not at all. He wants more but he doesn’t know how to even begin to ask.

The lips on his pull away and he whines, lurching forth to follow, when he chokes on a silent wail at the sensation of an overwhelming wet heat enveloping his cock.

Strong hands wrap themselves around his chest, caging him against the solid form of his former Master’s. Han Ying gasps, shaking hands carefully petting at the thick head of hair between his trembling thighs. His heart threatens to beat right out of his chest when Wen Kexing’s eyes flicker up to him.

Zhou Zishu hums, lips pressed to his temple as he holds him steady. “Ready for more?”

[presumenothing]

happy to report that ye baiyi is – and i didn't actually think this was possible – even more of a punchable asshole in the novel

[spookykittenwrites]

ye baiyi x xie wang 🦂🤍

oooooo this one is easy!

I adore this ship! It's super cute and all over my twitter feed tho I'll admit I don't really read WoH fanfic so I haven't read on it beyond threadfics. I really, really like the possibility of Xie'er getting someone who treats him properly and kindly in a way ZJ never would uwu my heart is so soft for these two

[nancywheelxr]

Word of Honor prompt where yby is wkx and zzs’s mailman. he and wkx have a feud (god only knows how it started, but neither of them want to back down first), so yby always leaves packages in the most inconvenient places. wkx tries repeatedly to report him to the mailman board or whatever, but they’re always like yby? no one named yby works here. this is unbelievably irritating to wkx because he knows yby has to work there. how tf else would he have their mail??? well turns out there was a mix up with the addresses and wkx and zzs’s mail has been being sent to yby for years. when yby went to drop off their mail the first time wkx assumed he was the mailman. this pissed yby off, so he decided to retaliate by putting their package next to the wheel of wkx’s car in hopes he’d run it over. and thus, the feud started

another galaxy brain idea, i would expect nothing less 😌

*

“Please,” Zhou Zishu says without looking up from the newspaper, “don’t throw your phone at the wall.”

There’s an angry noise, followed by the loud thud of something being slammed on the table. Better than the wall, he figures. “I wasn’t going to.”

He hums in agreement, adding pleasantly,  “of course not.” 

Is it mean not to engage like this? Maybe, but in his defense, Zhou Zishu has been forced to listen to increasingly angry phone calls for the past weeks on a daily basis, the same answer drifting from the speakers time and time again, so maybe he’s entitled to some bitchiness. 

Also, the way Wen Kexing’s face scrunches up a little, eyebrows furrowing, lips in a pout– he’s cute when he’s annoyed, so what’s Zhou Zishu suppose to do? Not antagonize him?

Case in point: a hand tugs his newspaper down and Wen Kexing comes into view, pouting in a terribly endearing way that Zhou Zishu has never been able to refuse, “A-Xu! Can’t you see I’m in distress? I’m distressed and you’re just sitting here, how heartless!”

“Is that so?” He raises an eyebrow, “I apologize for not coming to save you from the mean lady at the front desk, then. Did her answer change this time? Did someone named Ye Baiyi suddenly appear in their records?”

“No,” Wen Kexing sighs, dropping down on the couch beside him like a puppet with no strings, and Zhou Zishu goes through the motions of huffing exasperatedly, pointedly folding his newspaper, and leaving it on the coffee table. Then, he nudges him closer, a tug at his sleeves and Wen Kexing leans happily into him, face tucked neatly into Zhou Zishu’s shoulder. “I’m going to murder him,” he says.

“No felonies. Have you tried apologizing?”

“Pah,” Wen Kexing tries to sit up in outrage, but Zhou Zishu pulls him down again, hand carding through his hair, “apologize for what? He’s the one not doing his job! A-Xu, it was on the roof this time! On the roof!”

Ah, so they’re not ready for that yet, alright. “Hm. I think both of you need better hobbies.”

“A-Xu, you’re not listening, he’s my arch-nemesis!”

He opens his mouth to remind him it’s the 21st century and people don’t have arch-nemesis, but then, he remembers this is the guy who wakes up at god knows what time to leave their packages in increasingly ridiculous places. “I can’t believe you found the one person who might actually agree with you on this, what the hell.”

“What if we set out traps in the yard?” Wen Kexing muses and Zhou Zishu has a terrible feeling about this– he can foresee trips to the ER in the future and a litany of actually broken packages. 

Also: “Have you seen our children? They’ll get caught in them before Ye-qianbei does.”

“A-Xiang wouldn’t,” he says, but he doesn’t sound so sure anymore, so Zhou Zishu counts as it as a win.

“Maybe, but her boyfriend would and you promised her to stop scaring him off.”

The truth is this: a month ago they ordered a new coffee maker. It would take two days to arrive, great price, good quality. Zhou Zishu had even been looking forward to it! In hindsight, that might have been foolish, when has the universe ever made anything easy for him? No, the two days had come and gone, and on the third day, instead of enjoying as many expressos as his heart desired, he had been forced to witness the start of a trainwreck that’s been dragging ever since– Wen Kexing had been outside, gardening in a very broad sense of the word, when a man had approached their house, a package in his hands.

He had squinted at the yellow chrysanthemums Wen Kexing had been drowning with the hose. “That’s the ugliest flower I’ve ever seen.” 

“Excuse me?” Wen Kexing had smiled. It had been a terrible smile, full of teeth and no real friendliness, and Zhou Zishu had watched from the window and known with a deep-seated certainty that that would escalate out of proportion. 

The mad had scoffed. “Are you deaf besides incompetent? Whatever, just take this so I can stop looking at those flowers.”

“Incompetent?” Wen Kexing’s fingers had tightened around the hose as if he had been calculating the merits of hitting the man with the water spray, “ha! The mailman is late for his delivery and he wants to lecture me on my garden! A-Xu, come listen to this!”

“Mailman,” the man had repeated, face going blank, “the mailman.”

“A-Xu, come tell him my chrysanthemums look just fine!”

Then, he had exploded. “You brat! Who do you think you are? Have you no respect for your elders? Useless child–”

“Elder? Have you taken a look at the mirror? Get off my lawn! Out, out, out! No Old Monsters allowed!”

The man– Ye Baiyi, Zhou Zishu would learn later, after Wen Kexing had gone into his stalking spree trying to find his information to report to his alleged boss– had left. With their coffeemaker. Only to return at some point while they were inside to leave the package just behind the wheel of their car.

One month later and Zhou Zishu is yet to get his goddamn coffeemaker.

“Wen Kexing, you no-good insolent brat!” 

The yelling startles him back to the present, followed quickly by the sound of paper being ripped. At his side, Wen Kexing snickers. “I think he found the sign.”

“Sign? Is that what you and Chengling were doing in the garage last night?” 

“No Old Monsters permitted,” he recites, smug as a cat in the sun, and presses a kiss to his neck, “wasn’t it a good idea? A-Xu, I’m encouraging our son to improve his artistic skills.”

“Quit distracting me,” Zhou Zishu tugs his hair a little, “Lao Wen, you owe me so many cups of coffee.”

Wen Kexing grins, impossibly bright, ridiculously beautiful. “A-Xu ah, what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine, so how can there be a debt? Don’t be stingy!”

“Hm. Lao Wen is very wise, no debt between us, so he won’t mind making dinner tonight again.”

“A-Xu!” The whine comes out half laughter, and Zhou Zishu loves the sound of it, could never get tired of it, so really, he has no choice but to draw his husband closer and kiss the complaints before they even fall from his lips. 

[necromcom]

(IDs in alt text)

i know i throw this word around a lot but ye baiyi is such a fucking masterpiece. his multitudes. alignment chaotic lawful. the whole "distinguished/functional/disaster" column bass-boosted. god's favorite princess and the loneliest man in the world. everybody thinks he's the bee's fucking knees except for anyone who's spent >2 minutes in conversation with him. inhuman power and discipline; throws a rock because he cant think of a suitable schoolyard comeback, and misses. annoying on purpose because nobody can fucking stop him