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moonwaif · 4 years

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Do not waste your pearls for me

Summary: Lan Wangji is rescued by a young human with a talent for woodwind instruments, a gorgeous smile and eyelashes that go on for days.

Or, that one time Wei Wuxian snuck a whole-ass fish person into Lotus Pier.

Words: approx. 9,000

Tags: trauma, abuse, healing, mermaid!lanwangji, wangxian, unresolved romantic tension

Rating: G

(Originally posted on Ao3)

Lan Wangji remembers the hollow echo of agony and death. He remembers the violent jolt of the wreckage, of finally spilling out into open water only to be too weak to swim. Then he remembers the sensation of strong arms wrapped around him, of being torn and tugged until at last breaking through to the cool night air.

Next he remembers a rocking sensation. Coarse cloth. The sound of lapping water. Someone carrying him. Opening his eyes to a ceiling of shadowy wooden beams above him.

After that, he remembers nothing.

These are Lan Wangji’s most recent memories when he regains consciousness. The past, however, is no longer his concern. As his mind clears, so does his understanding of his current situation. He is in a dark room, sitting in a too-small wooden tub filled with water, his fins poking over the edge. He doesn’t know this place. The panic is instant, as is the pain. Gripping the edge of the tub, he tries to raise himself up, tail flopping and splashing wildly.

“Woah, woah--easy there.”

A voice, gentle, speaks from beside him. Lan Wangji’s head spins frantically in its direction. A human man is crouched beside the tub. His hair is long, his face is handsome, and he smiles in a way that Lan Wangji can only assume is meant to be reassuring. Cautiously, eyes never once leaving Lan Wangji’s face, he reaches a hand out towards him.

Droplets fly as Lan Wangji’s arm flashes out of the water, snatching the man’s wrist with the speed of a viper.

The man’s smile falters, but he doesn’t try to pull away. “It’s okay. I don’t want to hurt you.” He raises his other arm, showing the small pouch clutched in his hand. “I need to apply this medicine to your wounds.”

Lan Wangji has heard cautionary tales of jiaoren who had the misfortune of encountering humans—of how they were taken captive and disassembled like furniture, their body parts sold in human apothecaries1. Growing up, he saw peers who wandered too close to the shallows punished and beaten, the elders exchanging one act of cruelty for another in the hope that it would save future lives. So when this man says that he wants to heal Lan Wangji, to help him, Lan Wangji knows it is a lie.

If he were at his full strength, Lan Wangji would blast him with spiritual energy. He’d drag himself from this washtub, strangle the man to death, scratch out his eyes--anything to get away. But he has spent the last several days and nights sitting in a barrel of his own fetid water. He’s been beaten and drugged. The gash in his fin burns, enough to distract him from the numerous other wounds on his body. Even if he did somehow manage to make it back to the lake, he doubts he could even swim.

Eyes narrowed, Lan Wangji reluctantly loosens his fingers.

The man laughs stiffly. He flexes his wrist. “Damn--your grip is like a vice! Just try to relax, okay? I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Lan Wangji's entire body is rigid, eyes tracking the man's hand as it draws closer. He prepares himself for an attack, but none comes. The man merely presses his fingers to a wound on Lan Wangji's chest. The paste he gently massages in feels soothing and cool. Lan Wangji's tension slowly melts into confusion.

Is this human really trying to heal him?

Lan Wangji knows this can't bode well. Perhaps the man is trying to cure him for some sinister purpose. Maybe he intends to keep Lan Wangji alive in captivity, to force him to weave jiao xiao sha or produce pearls like some sort of livestock2. Or maybe he wants to sell him to a rich noble as an exotic house pet, like his original captors had planned on doing. But the pleasant sensation of the man's ministrations gradually stills the flow of Lan Wangji's anxious thoughts. By the time the man reaches his torn fins, Lan Wangji has slumped back into the washtub in a state of half-miserable, half-relieved stupor.

He's too tired to be afraid anymore.

"These wounds may take some time to heal," the man explains. "Especially the one on your fin. It looks infected. It's best if you stay here for a while. Ah, are you cold? You're shaking. Your fever is still pretty high, so I can't warm up the water too much, but a little should be all right . . ."

Still babbling, the man reaches into his robes and pulls out a slip of something that looks like very thin, fragile cloth. There is writing on it, but Lan Wangji doesn't get a chance to read it. The man slaps it on the side of the washtub, and the water suddenly heats up. A soft moan passes through Lan Wangji's lips.

The man's face breaks into a smile. Lan Wangji is dazed by how bright and genuine it is.

'So lovely,' he thinks groggily. 'Is this another kind of medicine?'

¤¤¤¤¤¤

Lan Wangji spends the next several days tormented by strange dreams. Sometimes he is back on the smugglers' ship, and they're dissecting him alive. Sometimes he sits cradled on his mother's lap, her hands guiding his as she teaches him to weave jiao xiao sha, her whisper warm against his ear, 'Like this, A-Zhan.' Sometimes it's that human boy, laughing and smiling and talking about who knows what. Other times it's the sensation of cool water running down his throat, or a spoonful of warm, salty liquid passing through his lips. And then sometimes it's gentle music, a kind that Lan Wangji has never heard before. It reminds him of birdsong, or the whistling dolphins he heard the one time he traveled far from the lake with his brother, when they followed the hidden channels and ventured out to sea.

"You snuck back a whole-ass fish person!"

These half-whispered, half-shouted words abruptly wrench Lan Wangji back into the present and anchor him there. His eyes snap open. He is still in the same room, in the same washtub. The same young man is also there. This time, however, he is accompanied by another human, one in purple robes and bearing a scowl that immediately sets Lan Wangji on edge.

"Do you have any idea what would happen if my parents found out about this?" the second man continues in a strained voice. "They'd beat you until the discipline stick cracked in half!"

The first man sighs. "Jiang Cheng. You worry too much. Entire days have passed since I first hid him here, and so far no one else has found out. You really think people would wait this long to get suspicious? Everything will be fine. We just need to act like nothing is out of the ordinary."

The man named Jiang Cheng seems unconvinced. In fact, his eyes look like they are about to bulge out of his skull. "Wei Wuxian--!"

"Shh! If you keep shouting, someone will definitely hear. Is that what you want?"

Jiang Chiang's face screws up like he's chewing sour eels, but he doesn't protest further. Wei Wuxian, apparently satisfied, turns away. His eyes land on Lan Wangji.

'Oh,' Lan Wangji thinks. 'That smile again . . .'

"You're awake!" Wei Wuxian declares. He scampers over to the washtub and plops down on the floor, crossing his legs. "Did you rest well? How are you feeling?"

Lan Wangji purses his lips. He glances at Jiang Cheng, who's eying him with equal wariness, then back at Wei Wuxian, whose smile fades in the ongoing silence. He coughs lightly, then reaches for a tray on the low table beside him.

"My shijie made some soup for you earlier. It's still warm--mostly. Are you hungry, young fish lord?"

Lan Wangj bristles. Young fish lord ?! Jiang Cheng, meanwhile, snorts.

"Why do you bother talking? He probably doesn't even speak our language."

"You don't know that! Besides, what kind of host would I be if I didn't try to make pleasant conversation? Fish brother," he says, and Lan Wangji's eyes harden in the fiercest glare he can muster, "would you like some soup?"

He holds up the tray, mimics eating from the bowl. Lan Wangji stares coldly.

Wei Wuxian's face scrunches up in a disappointed pout. He sets the tray back on the table. "Maybe later, then. Oh, I still haven't introduced myself. My name is Wei Ying, courtesy name Wei Wuxian. But you can just call me Wei Ying if that's easier. Wei Ying. Wei Ying. Got it?"

No one has spoken to Lan Wangji in such a condescending tone since he was a small child. His webbed fingers clench into fists.

"This guy over here is my shidi, Jiang Cheng," Wei Wuxian continues. "Courtesy name Jiang Wanyin. His parents are the leaders of the Jiang clan, and this is their headquarters--Lotus Pier. Fish brother, you must have really great luck, because the Yunmeng Jiang sect is definitely the best cultivation sect in the human world. Trust me, you're in great hands."

Lan Wangji knows of the Yunmeng Jiang sect. His brother Lan Xichen, as well as several other high-level members of the Lan sect, occasionally disguise themselves and venture out into the human world to trade for goods. Even more importantly, they gather information. Unlike most freshwater jiaoren, who have long since been driven out from their natural habitats by human settlements, the Lan jiaoren of Yunmeng lake have managed to survive thanks to the careful tabs they keep on the local human activity. This activity of course includes the Yunmeng Jiang sect. Now, sitting in a washtub at Lotus Pier, Lan Wangji releases tension in his shoulders that he didn't even know he was holding.

When he’d been trapped on the smuggler’s boat, he wasn’t sure how far he had traveled or where to. Now he's so close to home, he can taste it. Maybe this situation isn't completely hopeless after all. Maybe, just maybe, he'll make it out alive.

"Those smugglers . . . They did bad things to you, didn't they?"

Wei Wuxian's voice is low. A burning sensation builds in the back of Lan Wangji's throat. He blinks, and blinks again, then looks away. This non-response seems to confirm something for Wei Wuxian, because his expression grows suddenly angry. He makes what must be an attempt at a chuckle, but it comes off as a cold sneer.

"Don't worry. They're in a place where they can't bother you anymore--or anyone else, for that matter."

The edge in his voice takes Lan Wangji off-guard. Wei Wuxian’s face quickly softens back into a reassuring smile.

"I managed to salvage some things from the wreckage," he says. "I've been wanting to show them to you, but you wouldn't wake up!"

He stands and walks over to a long, flat chest in the corner. Lan Wangji's curiosity stirs. He wonders, as well as hopes, until Wei Wuxian finally finishes rummaging. He holds up what Lan Wangji knows is a neatly folded robe. He knows because he recognizes the fabric. It is white, translucent like a pearl--the same color as Lan Wangji's scales. Pale aqua embroidery shimmers on the edges.

"Are these yours?" Wei Wuxian asks, and Lan Wangji is barely able to stop himself from nodding. "Either way, you should put some clothes on."

Horror pierces Lan Wangji like a spear. Amidst all the chaos, he's overlooked the most obvious: he is completely naked in front of two strangers!

Lan Wangji crosses his arms and sinks beneath the water in a desperate attempt to cover himself. Wei Wuxian smirks and lays the robe on the edge of the tub. Lan Wangji waits until he has finished strolling back over to the chest before snatching up his clothing and yanking it on. It's difficult to wrap the layers around himself in such a confined space, but he does manage to make himself somewhat decent.

"Oi, Wei Wuxian. What do you think you're doing?"

Jiang Cheng, who up until this point has been hovering like an irritable mother duck, rushes forward. Lan Wangji's gaze follows him, and what he sees fills him with a mixture of shock, then relief, then confusion, and finally anger.

Clasped in Wei Wuxian's grubby, human hands is none other than Lan Wangji's sword, Bichen.

"I'm giving him his sword back," Wei Wuxian answers easily. "Why? Do you feel left out because I don't have any gifts for you, too?"

"Why the hell would you give him a weapon?!"

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. "Really, Jiang Cheng? We're the two prides of Yunmeng. He's a half-dead fish person. Sword or not, you really don't think we could take him?"

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. He darts a sharp look in Lan Wangji's direction, sizing him up. Lan Wangji tries to inject as much hatred into his expression as he can muster.

"Fine,” Jiang Cheng relents, “but don’t come crying to me when he drags himself across the floor to slit your throat! What makes you so sure it's his, anyway? Those thieves could have stolen it from anyone.”

Wei Wuxian leans forward conspiratorially. He raises the sword for Jiang Cheng to better see, and just barely unsheathes the blade. Bile rises in Lan Wangji’s throat. This Wei Ying--how dare he!

“See?” Wei Wuxian whispers. “Look at the blade.”

Jiang Cheng blinks. “Is that . . . ?”

“Mhm. Pearl.”

Jiang Cheng reaches out, caressing the blade with his fingertips. “How unusual . . .”

An indignant splash draws their attention. Lan Wangji is sitting ramrod straight in the washtub, his eyes like smoldering coals. Chuckling sheepishly, Wei Wuxian sheathes the sword.

“Here,” he says, laying it on the low table. “Just don’t try to kill me, all right? I spent so long trying to heal you. If we fight, I’ll be forced to injure you, and all that time will be wasted. Now I have just one more thing of yours, but I think it might be broken. I swear it wasn’t me, though! It was like that when I found it.”

This “thing” Wei Wuxian turns out to be Lan Wangji’s guqin. Just seeing Wangji laid out on the table beside Bichen is enough to make a warm, pleasant ache blossom across Lan Wangji’s chest.

“How is it broken?” Jiang Cheng asks. “It looks fine to me.”

Wei Wuxian plucks a string. Lan Wangji darts a glare in his direction. Jiang Cheng, meanwhile, frowns.

“Why is there no sound?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe the tuning got messed up, or the instrument was damaged somehow. Either way none of the strings will make a sound.”

Lan Wangji’s nostrils flare. If he wanted to, he could explain away their confusion. But he doesn’t want to, so he sits in silence as they babble speculatively. In the meantime he tries to puzzle out what Wei Wuxian can possibly mean by returning Lan Wangji’s belongings. All three would fetch a pretty price. Why not try to pawn them, or hoard them in a treasury? And if Wei Wuxian means to sell Lan Wangji or imprison him, why offer him a weapon?

None of it makes sense.

Lost in thought, Lan Wangji’s gaze wanders. Suddenly, he spots something familiar. He leans forward so quickly that water sloshes over the side of the washtub.

There, lying on the floor just in front of the open chest, is the Lan clan forehead ribbon!

Wei Wuxian follows his gaze. Spotting the ribbon, he bends down to retrieve it, crumpling the fabric in his hand. Lan Wangji’s stomach curls and his ears grow hot. Wei Wuxian, however, is blissfully unaware of having violated any taboo. He even has the audacity to look a bit pleased with himself as he holds the ribbon out to Lan Wangji.

“Is this yours? Sorry, it must have fallen out of your robes when--”

Lan Wangji wrenches the ribbon away with such vehemence that he nearly scratches Wei Wuxian. Startled, Wei Wuxian backs away.

“Fish brother!” he exclaims. “I’m trying to help you. Do you really have to be so rude?”

Lan Wangji stares hard at the ribbon clutched in his hand. He has always been brought up to honor the sincerity and generosity of others. Now, acting so fearful and suspicious, he is ashamed of his own behavior.

Wei Wuxian, however, has already recovered. “That’s all I was able to find. Sorry again about your guqin. Maybe when you get back home, the other jiaoren can fix it for you.”

Lan Wangji looks up at Wei Wuxian, so stunned that he accidentally lets the cold mask slip from his face. When you get back home?

Jiang Cheng nudges Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “Come on. We’ve been gone long enough. If we don’t go back, they’ll notice.”

Wei Wuxian nods in agreement. Both of them shoot uneasy glances Lan Wangji’s way. Wei Wuxian, however, is the only one to actually speak.

“I have to leave now. I’ll be back later to change your water. Don’t do anything stupid. Okay, fish brother?”

He speaks slowly, with elaborate gestures. Lan Wangji, of course, says nothing.

Jiang Cheng sighs, shakes his head. “Come on,” he says again, and drags Wei Wuxian from the room.

Alone, Lan Wangji sinks into the water. Wei Wuxian’s words reverberate in his mind with aching persistence: when you get back home.

Could this human truly mean to release him?

¤¤¤¤¤¤

Over the next couple of days, Wei Wuxian visits regularly. He comes in the morning, before the sun has risen. He comes midday, clothes rumpled and stinking of sweat. And then he comes once more at night. Each time he always brings something, never once empty-handed. Sometimes it's drinking water and fresh fruit, sometimes porridge or a more flavorful dish. Although Lan Wangji never reacts, Wei Wuxian seems to enjoy introducing him to new human foods.

"Wow, you really cleaned out that last bowl! So you like steamed wuchang fish after all, eh? Fish brother, you really are lucky to end up in Yunmeng. Just think, you could've gotten stuck in a different part of the human world where the people eat boring food, haha! My shijie is making rib and lotus root soup tonight. I'll definitely save some for you! If you liked the last dish, just you wait . . ."

Lan Wangji still isn't sure how he feels about human cuisine. Some of the spices are a bit too strong for his liking. In truth, he is homesick for the plain, reed broths of his own home. But Lan Wangji has always been taught not to waste food, and he has to admit, there is something comforting about being looked after so conscientiously.

One day, Wei Wuxian brings a bottle of oil and a comb.

"For your hair," he explains, running the comb through his own locks to demonstrate. The movement is charming, as is the little awkward laugh that follows it. Lan Wangi’s tongue suddenly feels too thick for his mouth. He realizes he’s staring, and Wei Wuxian must realize it too, because his cheeks redden slightly. But then Wei Wuxian is striding over to the washtub, his gait confident and without a care in the world.

“I thought you might want to spruce up a bit,” he says. “No offense but you’re looking a little rough these days.”

Lan Wangji has never been a vain person, as pride in one’s own physical appearance is forbidden by the Lan sect. He is, however, fastidiously disciplined in keeping himself neat and orderly. He glances at the long, knotted strands of hair hanging over his shoulders and feels a wave of dismay. Has he ever neglected his own appearance this long before? Why didn’t Wei Wuxian say something sooner?

“Not that you look bad or anything,” Wei Wuxian says quickly. “You’re still the most handsome fish brother out there. If it weren’t for me, you’d probably be the most handsome person in Yunmeng, too.”

He laughs at his own joke, face splitting into a wide grin. Lan Wangji, momentarily distracted from his own self-inspection, swallows thickly. On the one hand, he is disgusted by Wei Wuxian’s vanity. On the other, he is . . . unsettled. This Wei Wuxian with his long, unruly and yet somehow silky black hair; his sharp, mischievous features; and his hard, lean physique under purple robes--this Wei Wuxian thinks Lan Wangji is handsome.

‘He’s just joking,’ Lan Wangji scolds himself harshly. ‘Don’t let mere teasing put you in turmoil.’

But Lan Wangji can’t help but startle when Wei Wuxian lifts a strand of his hair, fingertips barely brushing the ends of his forehead ribbon. Panicking, Lan Wangji smacks the hand away. Wei Wuxian grumbles something about “only trying to help,” but doesn’t try to touch him again.

When Lan Wangji finishes combing his own hair, Wei Wuxian brings him a bronze hand mirror. Lan Wangji almost expects to see a different face staring back at him, but no--the reflection is his own. It’s strange, to have gone through so much and yet somehow still be the same person. Strange, and grounding.

Wei Wuxian props an elbow on the edge of the tub. “See? Now you’re definitely the handsomest.”

¤¤¤¤¤¤

As more time passes, Wei Wuxian continues to talk to Lan Wangji. He talks about Lotus Pier. He describes what the pavilion looks like, as well as the training field. He describes the number of disciples, who is who and what they’re good at. He tells Lan Wangji about the tiny mishaps that occur during that day’s practice, such as Jiang Cheng accidentally stepping in a pile of horse shit on their way to the archery range (Lan Wangji isn’t sure what a horse is, but apparently it takes massive shits). He tells Lan Wangji, in great detail, of his own prowess with the blade and bow. He shows him his sword--“Suibian,” Wei Wuxian says proudly, and Lan Wangji gives him a blank expression, because nothing would surprise him at this point--and even twirls it around, showing off a few moves.

As he talks, Wei Wuxian is hardly ever still. Sometimes he is crouched at the low table, preparing food or medicine. Other times he is pacing, gesturing animatedly. And then sometimes, when it’s late and everyone in Lotus Pier has already gone to bed, Wei Wuxian pulls open one of the screen doors to let in some fresh air. Leaned against the doorframe, either standing or sitting with his long legs stretched out, Wei Wuxian continues speaking. His profile is sharp in the moonlight, the lake black in the distance behind him. Sometimes he has a jar of wine with him, which he always offers to Lan Wangji, who always silently refuses. Other times he brings out a small, black musical instrument--something he tells Lan Wangji is a dizi. Lan Wangji closes his eyes as Wei Wuxian plays, letting the music carry him far from this small shed, far over the lake, into the sky with its last fading notes. But sometimes he keeps his eyes open to watch Wei Wuxian; watches his legs--how they cross or uncross, raise, bend, lie flat--or watches his face. He’s never seen someone whose smile could look so sad, who with a tilt of their head could almost beckon hither. ‘Come,’ his closed eyes seem to say. ‘Listen to my song, and I will tell you . . . I will tell you . . .’

Lan Wangji is not sure who he prefers: this still, pensive Wei Wuxian, or the Wei Wuxian who skips and bounds, who laughs with sincerity and without restraint.

In addition to talking and telling, Wei Wuxian asks questions. He does it in odd places, almost like he’s trying to trick Lan Wangji into answering. “It’s the season for lotus pods. I think I should steal some from the neighbors. What do you think, fish brother?” Or, “I can’t believe Jiang Yanli is still gonna marry that peacock! I really can’t stand it, fish brother. Even if he prayed for five thousand years, Jin Zixuan wouldn’t come close to deserving my shijie. By the way fish brother, what’s your name?”

Lan Wangji considers answering. Is there really any harm in it? But the thought of talking to Wei Wuxian after having stayed silent for so long makes his stomach roll. He feels a little ridiculous, really. So Wei Wuxian talks, and Lan Wangji continues to listen. It can be annoying, especially if Lan Wangji is trying to eat. A few times Lan Wangji closes his eyes and pretends to fall asleep just so Wei Wuxian will shut up. He even considers using the silencing spell. But after a while, Lan Wangji grows to expect it. Eventually, he stops noticing altogether.

And then one day, Wei Wuxian does not talk at all.

He arrives at night, later than usual. Lan Wangji straightens in his tub, waits for the customary greeting and subsequent tirade of small talk, but none comes. Wei Wuxian simply brings the tray in his hands over to the small table. He doesn’t once meet Lan Wangji’s gaze.

Lan Wangji’s concern is instantaneous. He scrutinizes Wei Wuxian’s face, observes the dark circles under his eyes, the dryness of his lips, the flush of his forehead and cheeks. Has he fallen ill? If so, he should be resting, not taking care of Lan Wangji. Or perhaps something has happened to a member of the Jiang family Wei Wuxian cares so much about. Or maybe he suffered an injury during training. Or--

Wei Wuxian suddenly leans over, interrupting Lan Wangji’s thoughts with a steaming bowl of soup. During this exchange, their eyes finally meet. Wei Wuxian blinks, taken aback, then offers up a weak smile.

“Sorry--I’m just tired today,” he says gently. “Are you hungry? I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

Lan Wangji feels the muscles in his jaw relax. He looks down at the bowl in his hands, pretending to be interested in its contents. Wei Wuxian watches him for a moment, then lays both forearms on the edge of the tub, chin drooping until it is propped atop them.

“It’s kind of embarrassing, actually,” he mumbles. Lan Wangji glances at him from the corner of his eye. “I got in trouble this morning for talking back to Madam Yu. Jiang Fengmian is away at a discussion conference, so she beat me a little bit and then made me kneel in the hall of the ancestors for hours. What am I, a little kid?”

Lan Wangji uses the spoon to scoop up some broth and vegetables, but he doesn’t really feel hungry anymore.

“Actually, fish brother . . .”

Lan Wangji glances at Wei Wuxian more fully this time. Wei Wuxian’s lip quirks, somewhere between a grimace and a smile.

“I have a confession,” he says sheepishly. “Since you can’t understand me, it’s okay if I just tell you, right? When I got in trouble today, I caused some problems for Jiang Cheng and shijie. I felt really bad about it, so when Madam Yu released me from the Ancestral Hall, I snuck a jar of wine back to my room and drank it all. Then I took another jar and I drank that, too. That’s why I was late bringing you dinner. I really am a bad caretaker, aren’t I? Please forgive me, fish brother. I promise to do better in the future . . .”

He trails off in a yawn. Lan Wangji is feeling less sympathetic now. He gives Wei Wuxian an exasperated look, but Wei Wuxian’s eyes aren’t open to see it. Even so, he continues talking, his voice an exhausted slur.

“Do you miss your family, fish brother? What am I saying, of course you do. They must miss you, too. You’ve been away for so long now. Don’t worry--you should be able to go home soon. You’re getting better every day . . . You’re doing a really great job . . .”

Lan Wangji sniffs--the closest thing he’ll allow himself to a chuckle. But he’s not really sure he finds anything about this situation funny.

Wei Wuxian snores softly while Lan Wangji drinks his stew. He’s still snoring when Lan Wangji leans over the edge of the tub to set the empty bowl on the floor. Lan Wangji wonders if he should wake him. As he ponders, a crease forms between Wei Wuxian’s brows. A shudder runs through his shoulders. Is it cold, Lan Wangji wonders? It’s hard for him to tell, with all of the warming talismans Wei Wuxian leaves plastered to the washtub. Lan Wangji hesitates, then slowly begins to remove his outer robe. Weaved from jiao xiao sha, the fabric is dry, despite having been in the water all day. He lays it across Wei Wuxian’s shoulders. The crease between his brows smooths. Satisfied, Lan Wangji settles back. He watches Wei Wuxian for a while, then lets his own eyes slip shut.

When Lan Wangji awakens in the morning, Wei Wuxian is gone, and the robe is folded neatly on the low table beside a bowl of porridge.

¤¤¤¤¤¤

When the door opens that afternoon, Lan Wangji expects a chagrined Wei Wuxian to greet him. Instead it’s Jiang Cheng.

The look he gives Lan Wangji as he slams the tray down on the table is anything but friendly. He doesn’t say anything, either. Lan Wangji wants to ask him why Wei Wuxian isn’t here--if he got sick or if he was punished again. But his aversion towards this arrogant human is far greater than his curiosity, so he remains silent.

Before he leaves, Jiang Cheng pauses at the door.

“Wei Wuxian may trust you,” he snaps, whirling around, “but I don’t. And if you do anything to hurt him, I’ll chop your fins off and fry them! G-got it?!”

His threat is undermined by the slight stammer at the end. Reddening, Jiang Cheng whirls on his heel and slams the door behind him.

Lan Wangji takes a moment to process this. Him, hurt Wei Wuxian? How? His sword, of course, is still kept within arm’s reach, but what motive could he possibly possess? Despite his confusion, Lan Wanji can’t help but feel that this interaction serves as a reminder. He and Wei Wuxian are not the same, and Lan Wangji will never truly be safe here. He’s let himself get too comfortable.

Lan Wangji is still brooding when the door opens again that evening. This time it actually is Wei Wuxian. He’s carrying a large bucket of fresh water and a satchel slung over his shoulder.

The satchel is moving.

Wei Wuxian sets the bucket of water down with a grunt. “Sorry I’m late! Did Jiang Cheng give you trouble?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes narrow, staring pointedly at the satchel. Wei Wuxian grins.

“Hehe. So you noticed, huh? Do you want to see what’s inside?”

Without waiting for an answer, Wei Wuxian crouches down and removes the satchel. He opens it just barely. Intrigued, Lan Wangji peers inside.

Two red, beady eyes blink back at him from within the softest, furriest white face he’s ever seen.

“I brought a friend!” Wei Wuxian declares. He scoops the creature out, holding it up for Lan Wangji to see. “Isn’t it cute? Have you ever seen one of these, fish brother? It’s called a rabbit. That peacock brought some for my shijie today to keep as pets. Hmph. Such a suck-up. But that’s why I was late. I was helping shijie take care of them. It’s so soft! Feel.”

Lan Wangji’s hand, which up until this point has been gripping the edge of the tub, is suddenly snatched up by Wei Wuxian. A strangled protest rises and dies in Lan Wangji’s throat. Wei Wuxian’s fingers are rough and warm, like driftwood in the sun. He guides Lan Wangji’s hand, pressing it gently against the creature’s back. The rabbit, too, is warm, but also shivery and frail beneath its fur. The pink eyes swivel in Lan Wangji’s direction. Its nose twitches. Lan Wangji strokes it softly, slowly, afraid of startling it away.

‘What strange fins it has,’ he thinks. The back fins are long--almost as longs as its entire body. Lan Wangji suddenly realizes that he has never seen Wei Wuxian’s fins. They are always covered in dark leather boots. What must they look like?

He suddenly feels Wei Wuxian’s eyes on him. He’s watching closely, an absent-minded smile on his lips. The expression is too fond, too open. It makes Lan Wangji’s stomach twist.

“Do you want to hold it?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji cradles the rabbit in his arms while Wei Wuxian empties the tub and changes out the water. This procedure is always an ordeal. The first time it happened, Wei Wuxian had actually carried Lan Wangji out of the tub.

"I'm going to pick you up now," he'd said, entirely serious, and Lan Wangji had been so aghast he'd almost asked Wei Wuxian if he'd lost his damn mind. The next thing he knew one arm was around his waist, fingers digging into his ribs as Wei Wuxian pulled him up and out of the tub. When he actually slid his other arm beneath Lan Wangji's tail--the space right below his rump--Lan Wangji almost threw up. It was humiliating to be so defenseless, to be manhandled so easily. It was revolting. It was exhilarating. It was the smell of freshly washed skin, of wine and citrus. It was being close enough to see a blemish on Wei Wuxian's chin, to see the shadow cast by his long eyelashes.

Ever since then, Lan Wangji climbs out of the tub by himself, even if he has to drag himself across the floor like a literal fish out of water. It doesn't stop the thoughts though--the thoughts of Wei Wuxian, and how it felt to be in his arms.

Wei Wuxian always has to make multiple trips before the tub is refilled. It never seems to bother him, though. Today he is in an especially good mood, humming to himself and sneaking Lan Wangji amused glances as he passes to and fro.

“There!” he says at last, smacking the side of the washtub. He sets the empty bucket down and plops onto the floor beside Lan Wangji, huffing and puffing dramatically. Their shoulders brush.

“That little guy really likes you,” Wei Wuxian says after a moment’s pause. “I think he might like you even more than me. After I fed him all those carrots, too! Hmph. So ungrateful.”

Wei Wuxian tugs on the rabbit’s whiskers, making a face. Lan Wangji hesitates. Does Wei Wuxian covet the rabbit? Perhaps these creatures are of some great significance to humans. Jiang Yanli’s suitor did bring them as gifts, after all. Lan Wangji may have been greedy, keeping it to himself for too long. Hesitantly, Lan Wangji leans forward. Wei Wuxian’s face goes momentarily blank with surprise, hands instinctively raising to take the rabbit as Lan Wangji passes it over to him. Lan Wangji then sits back, watching Wei Wuxian’s face carefully for a reaction. A moment passes, and then Wei Wuxian snorts. His face is amused, like Lan Wangji has just told a funny but particularly ridiculous joke.

“Er, thanks, fish brother. You’re very thoughtful.”

Lan Wangji gazes upon Wei Wuxian’s smile just a fraction longer than necessary before dropping his eyes back down to the rabbit. Thankfully Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to notice. He’s already talking again.

“Do you like animals, fish brother? If so, I can bring the rabbit to visit you again tomorrow. Although maybe I shouldn’t. If I do that, he might start to get attached, and then he’ll be sad once you’re gone. He’ll probably stop eating. That’d be no good. If he stops eating, he’ll get too thin, and then he won’t be as tasty.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes snap back to Wei Wuxian’s face in shock. The mischievous twinkle in Wei Wuxian’s eye brightens.

“This guy is gonna make a really good rabbit stew. Do you want to try it, fish brother? I’ll tell shijie to make it tomorrow so you can--”

“No!"

Wei Wuxian nearly drops the rabbit. Lan Wangji freezes. His voice sounds strange to his own ears after so many days of disuse. He swallows thickly, afraid to look at Wei Wuxian but also afraid to look away. The room fills with the chirps of crickets and the lapping of distant lake water.

Wei Wuxian bursts out laughing.

“Seriously?!” he croaks. “You could understand me all this time? Fish brother! Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Lan Wangji averts his gaze. “You wouldn’t stop talking.”

Wei Wuxian snorts.

The conversation that follows lasts long into the night. Wei Wuxian wants to know everything about Lan Wangji.

"What's your name?"

For some reason, he does not want to reveal his courtesy name. "Lan Zhan."

"So your surname is Lan? Is your family big? Are there a lot of Lans?"

" . . . Yes."

"Hmm. I thought so. With your sword and guqin, there's no way you didn't come from some fancy cultivation clan. So . . ." Wei Wuxian scoots closer. Both he and the rabbit stare fixedly back at Lan Wangji. "Is your home far from here? Do you live in the lake? It's the lake isn't it? I always knew there was something strange about Yunmeng Lake! Are there a lot of you? How many?"

Lan Wangji frowns. Sighing, Wei Wuxian relents.

"It's a secret? Fine, I get it, I get it." He tugs on the rabbit's ear. It wiggles fiercely against his chest, trying to escape. "Oh! Fish broth-- I mean, Lan Zhan. Is it true that your kind weaves jiao xiao sha? Is that how your robe always stays dry?"

This seems like a harmless enough question. Lan Wangji gives a curt nod. "Mn."

"Wow . . ." Wei Wuxian fingers the edge of Lan Wangji's sleeve with his free hand. Lan Wangji's entire arm starts to tingle. Wei Wuxian must notice him bristle, because he lets go, his broad, goofy grin somewhat apologetic.

"So the legend is true," he says thoughtfully. "Y'know, a guy lost a bet to me one time. He didn't have any money, but he said he could give me a cloak made of jiao xiao sha. But when it rained, that thing got soaked! It had a nice color, though, so I gave it to shijie." He bounces the rabbit on his lap, considering. "Ah! What about the other legends, like being able to transform? I thought jiaoren could disguise themselves as people so they could walk on land."

Lan Wangji looks away. "Some do."

" . . . But not you?"

"It is an arduous process. One must learn3."

"Then you should hurry up and learn! That way, you can come back to visit, and I can show you the world outside of this shed. I'll take you to the training grounds--we can even spar, haha. I'll show you other animals too, like horses, and cats. No dogs though."

"What are dogs?"

"Er, not important, don't worry about it. But Lan Zhan, I'll take you to all the best places to eat, too! There's so much good food in the human world, you won't be able to stand up after we try it all."

"To transform and enter the human world, one must first receive permission."

Wei Wuxian scowls. "Whatever. Just sneak out. We'll have so much fun, it'll be worth it, I promise!"

Lan Wangji's voice is firm. "No. This is one of the Lan sect's three thousand rules."

"Three--three thousand?!" Wei Wuxian stammers. "How is that even possible?"

Lan Wangji doesn't understand his surprise. "Do human cultivation sects not have rules?"

"Well yeah, but not three thousand of them. Lan Zhan, you must have lived a sheltered life so far. You really, really need to come back to Lotus Pier one day. I'll show you the better things in life."

Lan Wangji tries to imagine himself in a human body, exploring alongside Wei Wuxian. His chest aches for it.

"Not interested," he says.

There's a spark of genuine hurt in Wei Wuxian's disgruntled face. He leans back slightly, poking at the rabbit's chubby cheeks.

"Fine. You're definitely missing out, though! I could introduce you to some really pretty girls. If you think jiaoren girls are beautiful, just wait until you see human ones! Especially the girls in Yunmeng, haha. We have the prettiest and handsomest people of all."

"Ridiculous," Lan Wangji grits out.

"Eh? Why?" Wei Wuxian bats his eyelashes. "Aren't I good looking?"

Words tangle in Lan Wangji's throat. He glares, the muscles in his face growing tighter and tighter. Wei Wuxian drops the act. He laughs, nose wrinkling in a way that reminds Lan Wangji of the rabbit.

'Cute,' Lan Wangji realizes, and the revelation leaves him breathless.

Wei Wuxian’s questions are infinite. He asks about Lan Wangji's family--"uncle and brother"--but is kind enough to refrain from prying after his parents. He wants to know what the food is like, and each time Lan Wangji describes a dish--"reeds and raw salmon, snails boiled with fungus"--he exclaims how much he wants to try it.

"Even though it sounds a little bland," he admits. "Don't worry. I'll give you spices to take home. But, Lan Zhan--is it really true that you guys eat humans?”

For some reason this question stings. “Don’t be absurd.”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “That’s just what I heard some people say--that jiaoren eat humans4. So it’s not true?”

“ . . . I don’t know,” Lan Wangji admits grudgingly. “Perhaps some do.”

“But not your sect?”

“No.”

Wei Wuxian’s grin brightens. “Ha! I knew it. Jiang Cheng was wrong.”

He asks more about Lan Wangji's home--what it's called, what it looks like. He closes his eyes as Lan Wangji describes the white limestone walls, the schools of carp glinting through forests of long, wavering lotus stems. He doesn’t mention the tunnels, or the caves and springs hidden beneath the bottom of the lake. These are secrets that must be guarded.

“Sounds really nice,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “What about the girls? Are they pretty? Haha, don’t look so angry. I’m only teasing.”

He of course also asks about cultivation methods. Lan Wangji is less recalcitrant on this topic. It is, after all, possible to give Wei Wuxian some basic information without revealing the Lan sect’s methodology.

“Qin,” he says. “And blade.”

“So your guqin is a spiritual weapon!” Wei Wuxian realizes. “Is that why it won’t make any sound when I play it? Does it have to be played by you?”

“No.”

"Oh." Wei Wuxian is crestfallen. "So it is broken."

"It can be played," Lan Wangji says, after a brief spell of deliberation. "But only underwater."

He looks up and holds Wei Wuxian's gaze. The silence between them is somber. Wei Wuxian's eyes flicker toward his tail. The gash in the fin is now a jagged patch of rough, newly woven flesh. He gives Lan Wangji a sad smile.

"If I take you back to the lake, will you play for me?"

¤¤¤¤¤¤

Lan Wangji watches as the faint lights of Lotus Pier recede with the shore. On the boat, a lantern hangs from a pole, illuminating the lake's rippling surface. They pass clusters of water hyacinths and water lilies. Wei Wuxian plucks a blossom and tucks it behind Lan Wangji's ear. Face twisted, Lan Wangji flings it into the bottom of the boat. Wei Wuxian responds with raucous laughter.

Occasionally they stop to pick lotus pods. Wei Wuxian eats the seeds slowly, lingering as if on purpose, until the barest edges of the horizon glow a pale, pre-dawn grey.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji murmurs.

Wei Wuxian pauses mid-chew. Resigned, he drops the lotus pod and lifts the oar. He rows with the grace and assurance of one who knows these waters.

"'Vast sea, bright moon,'" he bellows suddenly. "'The pearl has tears5.' Lan Zhan, don't cry too much if you miss me. You shouldn't waste your pearls."

Wei Wuxian has been rowing for some time when Lan Wangji finally speaks.

"Stop."

Wei Wuxian complies. Without further ado, Lan Wangji plunges over the side of the boat and into the water.

The boat rocks violently in his wake. Wei Wuxian grips the side, bewildered. A second passes, and then Lan Wangji reemerges a good distance away. Wei Wuxian's face relaxes. Lan Wangji dives underwater, hardly leaving a ripple behind as he swims back over to the boat, his tail like a long, white ribbon waving in the current.

"Ok, ok. I can see you're a fast swimmer," Wei Wuxian chides. "You don't have to show-off. Does it feel that good to be back in the water?"

"Mn."

Wei Wuxian clucks his tongue. Standing, he undoes his belt.

Lan Wangji's eyes sharpen. "What are you doing?"

He drops the belt. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Then the outer robes. "I'm undressing."

"Why?!" Lan Wangji demands, frantic. Wei Wuxian yanks off his boots with a wink. Lan Wangji is momentarily distracted by the sight of his fins. Except they’re not fins after all. They’re something stranger, flat and rectangular and confusing.

"Because not all of us have clothes made of jiao xiao sha,” Wei Wuxian answers. He slips one arm out of his undergarments, and Lan Wangji's stomach cramps like he's about to be sick. He turns away just in time.

The splash behind him shatters the night. Moments later, a spluttering Wei Wuxian pops his head out of the water. He grins cheekily.

Lan Wangji has heard of humans who can swim, but he has never seen it. He observes closely as Wei Wuxian’s legs and strange flins flash beneath the surface. He paddles over easily, eyes never once leaving Lan Wangji’s face.

“See?” he grins. “I can swim well too. Wanna race?”

“Qin,” Lan Wangji says simply.

Wei Wuxian’s mouth puckers in a pout, but he swims back to the boat obediently. He returns with a qiankun pouch. Lan Wangji reaches into the pouch and retrieves his guqin. It is cool and solid in his hands.

He has missed this.

“What song will you play?” Wei Wuxian asks. “A cultivation song? A folk song?”

“Listen and learn,” Lan Wangji replies, and he ducks beneath the surface.

It is refreshing to move with such ease again, to have the firm support of water against his body. Wangji, always obedient, follows his movements, sinking until it is at the level of his waste and staying there. Lan Wangji’s fingers hover over the strings. What shall he play?

As he deliberates, Wei Wuxian descends in front of him. His arms and legs look especially ridiculous treading water, and his hair floats wildly around his face. Not to mention his cheeks are puffed out as he holds in his breath. Lan Wangji hopes he can always remember this ridiculous man who has cared for him so diligently. This man whose bare chest and toned, tiny waist are bared so brazenly now before him.

Lan Wangji catches himself and drops his eyes to the guqin. He needs to still his mind. He knows exactly what song to play.

The first note is a focused ray of soft blue light. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen, following it as it pierces through the water past him. It is followed by the next note, a falling glow that diffuses around Wei Wuxian and lingers, sparkling. Sleeves billowing, Lan Wangji illuminates the depths of Yunmeng Lake with music and light, with the words of gratitude he will never be able to say. He plays his song to Wei Wuxian, and to Wei Wuxian alone.

When Lan Wangji strikes the final chord, Wei Wuxian’s lips part, releasing small air bubbles. His eyes crinkle in a smile. Then the lids grow heavy. Lan Wangji releases the guqin and seizes Wei Wuxian’s arm just as his body starts to go limp. Pulling Wei Wuxian against him, he swims to the surface.

Wei Wuxian moans slightly as the air hits his face. His head rolls onto Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

“Lan Zhan,” he mumbles. “That song . . . What was it?”

“Rest,” Lan Wangji says, which is partly true. It just happens to be a particular variation that induces drowsiness.

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian answers quietly. “It’s nice. I like it.” He yawns, then frowns. “But suddenly I feel so tired . . .”

Lan Wangji watches as Wei Wuxian’s head continues to droop, and his eyes finally slip shut. His breath is even and warm against the crook of Lan Wangji’s neck.

“Goodnight, Wei Ying.”

¤¤¤¤¤¤

When Wei Wuxian wakes, it’s to a sapphire, cloud-dappled sky.

He blinks around himself, confused. He’s in a boat--the same boat from last night. He raises his head, peering out to see the familiar sight of Lotus Pier. Frowning, he pushes himself up into a sitting position with a grimace. There’s a sharp crook in his neck. He raises his arm to stretch when something falls from his shoulders. He glances down. It’s a white robe, one that is hauntingly familiar.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes go round. He leans over the side of the boat, glancing anxiously around the water.

“Lan Zhan?” he whispers.

He stares into the lake, as if waiting for it to answer. After a moment he leans back, heaves a bitter laugh.

“That trickster,” he mutters. He lets his gaze wander across the dock, amongst the pink and white clusters of lotus flowers. Sighing, he lays back again and stares up at the sky.

“We probably won’t ever have the chance to meet again,” he thinks aloud. “Right?”

¤¤¤¤¤¤

The sacking of Lotus Pier rocks the cultivation world. In one night, the familiar emblems of the Jiang sect disappear, replaced by red flags with golden suns. Yunmeng, once known for its lively atmosphere and bustling markets, goes silent. Civilians hurry through the streets with their heads down and their lips sealed.

However, eyes are reluctantly drawn to the appearance of an elegant young man. He is slender and robed in white, with noble features. Bystanders speculate that he is from some distant cultivation sect unassociated with the Wens. Since times are strange, they make sure to avoid him.

Weary of the stares, the man enters a teahouse. He sips from his cup, unobtrusive despite his remarkable features. As he drinks, he can’t help but pick up on the conversation from a nearby table.

“My wife’s brother was on duty that night. Her family couldn’t even recover his ashes.”

“It’s barbarism, that’s what it is. The Jiang clan always conducted themselves like true heroes. How dare the Wen clan--”

“Sh! Do you wanna die?”

Silence falls. After a few moments, the first man continues speaking. His voice is incredibly low.

“I heard Jiang Wanyin joined up with the Nie sect in Hejian. I wonder if they stand a chance.”

“If anyone does, it’d be those two. Although it’d be great if Wei Wuxian was with them.”

“Hmph. Who knows where that one is? Probably at the bottom of a ditch.”

The cultivator, who until this point has listened without expression, stills. His jaw clenches and his grip tightens around the teacup.

“Well I don’t believe it! Wei Wuxian was the rising star of the Jiang sect. I think he’s working in the shadows. He’ll definitely reappear.”

“You’re too optimistic. By the way, did you hear about the strange things happening at the Yiling burial mounds? They say that fierce corpses are . . .”

The cultivator drains his cup. He sets a few coins on the table and exits the tea house.

Lan Wangji knows that he should immediately return to Yunmeng Lake. He has already obtained the goods requested by his uncle. But Lan Wangji does not return. Instead he wanders the streets without purpose. The vendors and salesmen shrink as he passes by, although a few are bold enough to try and show-off their goods. A young woman selling steamed buns flashes him a winning smile.

“Young lord, would you like a taste?”

The scent of a meat Lan Wangji now knows is called pork tickles his throat. Words, unbidden, rise to mind:

I can show you the world outside of this shed. I'll take you to the training grounds--we can even spar, haha . . . I'll take you to all the best places to eat, too! There's so much good food in the human world, you won't be able to stand up after we try it all . . .

Lan Wangji pulls out his qiankun pouch—the same pouch that Wei Wuxian once gave him to hold Bichen and his guqin when Lan Wangji returned to Yunmeng Lake, all those months ago. Lan Wangji takes out a coin and purchases two buns. Then, with great difficulty, he meets the woman’s gaze.

“Which way to Hejian?”

FIN

NOTES:

1. This is me making stuff up for conflict and world-building purposes. It has nothing to do with the actual myth. No disrespect meant. I also want to mention that it sounds like jiaoren live in the sea, not in freshwater. But. I wanted him to live in Yumeng lake, so. Yeah.

2. These are actual parts of the jiaoren myth. The links below have more information. The Sun Jiahui link does have a story about a jiaoren who lived with humans and made cloth. However, if you read the link you will see that she didn't live in captivity and that she seemed to harbor affection for the family. So again, my story does not really line up with the traditional myth and I encourage you to read into it if you really want to know more.

Li Hongrui (2016). Mermaids in Chinese fairytales.

Sun Jiahui (2015). The Chinese Mermaid.

3. I'm back on my bullshit, making stuff up again. Who knows. Don't take my word for it.

4. Who is the person that said it? Me, when I was making stuff up to start drama. This is not part of the traditional lore.

5. This is from Li Shangyin's poem Jin Se, which is often translated as Brocade Zither. I didn't want to quote an official translation so I just kind of slapped this together using a dictionary and google translate, yeah I know it's an eyesore. But . . . I recommend you read some REAL translations of it by scholars who actually speak Chinese and know about poetry. The various translations are vastly, vastly different but there are some Wangxian feels buried there in my opinion. I recommend the following links. Either way, it sounds like some of the translations connect the tears and pearls to the jiaoren legend. Others not so much.

Translation and from Now Where Was I? A Buddhist Blog.

Translation and analysis from Dalriada Books Ltd.

Pengfei Wang (2018). English Metaphysical and Mid-Late Tang Poetry: A Baroque Comparison. This includes in-depth discussion of the poet and various translations of the poem on pages 102-109.

#wangxian #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #cql #mdzs #fanfic #my stuff #abuse tw #alcohol tw

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