lizhly-writes

[lizhly-writes]

anyway, there's your 'reincarnated as' version, here's "replacement".

Yang Haoran woke up contemplating pancakes.

This was expected, since the night before, he’d spent some time rereading some recipes to 1) make sure he had all the ingredients he needed 2) he wouldn’t fuck up the goddamn recipe.  

It should be easy!  It should be fine!  There was no reason why it would turn out bad.  Even children could make them without mistakes! He’d managed just fine when he was a child, back when his name wasn’t…

Anyway.  

Pancakes.  Not healthy, especially once you loaded them down with jam and cream and chocolate, but the kids ate healthy the rest of the time, they could have a treat once in a while for breakfast.

Then he tripped over his feet getting out of bed and it became very clear that the pancake making process was not going to be in his near future.

The bed was, inexplicably, higher off the ground than he was used to.  After some confused investigation, it became clear that it was not actually his bed, and he was not actually in his room, and also he was not even in his own house.

Hey, what the fuck?

“Young Master Yang,” a familiar woman said when he’d made it down a truly excessive amount of unfamiliar stairs and into an unfamiliar kitchen.  She was working on breakfast – congee?

Yang Haoran squinted.  “Auntie Lan?” he said tentatively.

“Breakfast will be ready in a moment,” Lan Diwei said. “I hadn’t anticipated you coming down this early.”  She glanced up at him and frowned minutely.  “Did you get ready for the day at all?  It seems you haven’t even washed your face.”

Lan Diwei had been his nanny as a child.  He’d aged out of her care eventually and fallen out of touch.  It had been… a while since he had seen her.

Why was she here?  No, better yet, why was he here?  Where were they?

“No, I haven’t washed my face,” Yang Haoran said slowly.  “I thought it was a better idea to understand what was going on.”

Lan Diwei actually turned around from the stovetop to look at him.  “Breakfast,” she said, brows furrowing.  “Breakfast is what’s going on.  I’m sorry, Young Master, I don’t understand the problem?”

Yang Haoran also didn’t understand the problem.  The problem shouldn’t be happening.

It was at that moment Jiang Li’an came down the stairs.

“Ah, Chen-er,” Lan Diwei said, somewhat nonsensically.  

“Chen-er?” Yang Haoran repeated.  Who was Chen-er?

Jiang Li’an straightened up.  “Father,” he said, a little stiffly.  “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Yang Haoran said, still lost.  “You’re… feeling very dignified today, I see.”

Father, and not Dad. Neatly dressed at this hour, posture perfect, tone steady, face clear.  Jiang Li’an didn’t seem to be panicking or anything, so… things must be fine?  But there was such a gap between what Yang Haoran remembered and what was happening right now.  Was he dreaming?  Did he have amnesia?

“Father?” Jiang Li’an said.

“I didn’t even get to make pancakes,” Yang Haoran said, somewhat stupidly.

@m1sosazai welp

Yang Haoran didn’t think he was particularly good with children, but he figured that by sheer virtue of being a stay-at-home-dad, he couldn’t be any worse than his own parents.  It had to be easier to be a good parent if he literally occupied all his time with it.

This hadn’t exactly been his plan when he’d been sixteen years old and contemplating being a trophy husband for Jiang Mingxi, but the assumption that they’d both had made was that he would be the more present parent.  Jiang Mingxi was the one with the bigger, busier job that she actually cared about, and Yang Haoran… really couldn’t care less about his own career.

Like he’d told people before: he had no issue eating soft rice.

The children seemed to be doing well, at any rate, being left with him instead of a more experienced auntie.  They were all alive, at least.

“Congratulations, you’re alive!” he told Jiang Li’an, who was generally a very quiet, very serious boy – a lot like his mother, in some aspects – but still giggled when Yang Haoran picked him up.  He was maybe getting a little big for it now, but Yang Haoran was still capable of making it work.  If he worked out, he could probably keep this up even when Xiao An hit full adulthood.  Now, that would be something to see.

“Dad, what’s that supposed to mean?” Jiang Li’an said, which was fair enough.  It was a confusing thing to say to begin with.

“Nothing,” Yang Haoran said.  “I’m just happy you’re here.”

There was a tug at his leg.  Yang Haoran looked down.

Jiang Liyun was staring up at him, innocent and wide-eyed.  “Are you happy I’m here, too?”

“Yes,” Yang Haoran said.  “I’m happy to have both of my children. You’re both very good, very cute.”

“Dad,” Jiang Li’an said, who was possibly getting too old to enjoy being called cute.

Jiang Liyun considered this.  “That’s good.  Can you pick me up?” he concluded, and Yang Haoran obediently knelt down so Yun-er could clamber onto his back.

They were both getting very heavy, which Yang Haoran supposed was good for their health, but probably bad for his spine if he kept trying to do this.

Oh well. Whatever.  He could handle it.

“When’s Mom coming back?” Jiang Liyun said.

…He was maybe less equipped to handle that.

Yang Haoran restrained a sigh.  They had agreed that Yang Haoran was going to be the more present parent.  They hadn’t actually accounted for the fact that their kids still wanted Jiang Mingxi around, which, in hindsight, was sort of dumb of them to ignore.

She was their mother.  Of course they wanted her around.  Her attention, due to its rarity, was much more valuable than Yang Haoran’s, who was there all the time.

“She said she’d be back by Saturday,” Jiang Li’an said.  

“Really?” Jiang Liyun said.  “So she’s going to go to your tournament?”

Jiang Li’an slumped a little in Yang Haoran’s arms.  Yang Haoran tried not to wince.

Jiang Mingxi tried.  She really did.  But there were only so many things she could move around, and only so many places she could be at at once.  Ideally, she could make it back for Jiang Li’an’s tournament, but realistically speaking… flight delays happened.  Company events came up.  There were a lot of things to do, and it wasn’t exactly conducive to spending a lot of time with your children.

“She’s going to try,” Yang Haoran said.

“Really?” Jiang Li’an muttered.

#my writing

[lizhly-writes]

#reblog#original fiction#parenthood#damn#gotta love one generation fucking up the next in the opposite direction as they were fucked up#yhr and jmx really just made /both/ children feel like the unfavorite#not sure if this child is more dysfunctional than the other one like at least yqy had the straightforwardness of asking jmx outright#while jqc is more upset here#but somehow yqy's equanimity is more unsettling to me#getting loudly upset and lashing out is more what I'd expect? like it's not a great way to communicate#but it's what I'd expect from kids

stared at this for a while. yeahhhh, nothing like going "well, i wish my parents didn't do this" and horribly overcompensating. whoops! you've got a new parental failure this time!

don't worry, yqy will probably also burst into tears over this. both of these children get to cry probably not what you were hoping for lmao

hi there, have an uncomfortable parent-child relationship.

Yang Haoran stared down his unruly child, arms crossed. Jiang Qingchen wasn’t looking him in the eye.  His posture: shoulders slumped, head down, arms crossed defensively over his stomach.  It projected hesitation and shame.  Yang Haoran had thought that Jiang Mingxi had trained this sort of thing out of her heir.  If you were going to make a mistake, you should at least do it confidently.

“I,” Yang Haoran said, “am almost certain your mother agrees with me about the importance of looking at people when they talk to you.”

“Yes, Father,” Jiang Qingchen mumbled, still staring at his toes.

Yang Haoran clicked his tongue. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Jiang Qingchen obediently raised his head.  He looked like he was about to cry, which was interesting, considering what just happened.

“Let’s review,” Yang Haoran said.  “You yelled at your younger brother until he started crying.  Does that sound correct?”

It didn’t sound correct to Yang Haoran.

The relationship between his two children was good.  Yang Qingyun adored his big brother, and Yang Haoran, up until this point, had very much thought the sentiment was returned.  There were the standard scuffles among children, of course, but overall, Jiang Qingchen had always been very nice to Yang Qingyun.

If there was to be any resentment between them at all, Yang Haoran had always thought it would be from Yang Qingyun – the younger resenting the older, just like how Yang Haoran resented his sister.

But here they were now.  It had taken some time to soothe Yang Qingyun quiet, and the child had spent the entire time saying things like “it’s fine” and “he didn’t mean it” and “Dad, it’s okay”.  

What was okay?

“Why did you yell at your younger brother until he started crying,” Yang Haoran said flatly.

“I’m sorry.”

“You can tell that to your brother later.  I want to know why.”

“No reason,” Jiang Qingchen mumbled.  “I just.  I was having a bad day.  I got.  Angry.”

Yang Haoran raised his eyebrows.  “You got angry?”

Jiang Qingchen had an amazingly mild temper.  This was something of a miracle, considering that both Yang Haoran and Jiang Mingxi were impressively angry people.  Yang Haoran had spent some time during that first pregnancy wondering if the shared tempers would exponentiate and result in a baby prone to beserker rages – but no.  Jiang Qingchen was lovely and well-behaved and obedient.

Except right now, for some reason.

“Come up with a better reason. You’re not very good at lying yet.”

“I’m not lying,” Jiang Qingchen said sullenly.  “I’m just…”

Yang Haoran waited – but no.  Jiang Qingchen felt content to let this sentence trail off into infinity.

“I am displeased with your behavior,” Yang Haoran said evenly, and watched Jiang Qingchen flinch.  “I would like an explanation for it.  You can give me one, or I can punish you.  What would you prefer?”

Jiang Qingchen made a choked sound. “You’re not even going to like my explanation.”

“I’d have to hear it first to know whether I’d like or not, wouldn’t I.”

Jiang Qingchen didn’t answer.

Yang Haoran waited patiently.

As expected, Jiang Qingchen cracked first, accustomed to being obedient as he was. “It was – it was dumb, Okay?  Yun-er – he was upset that Mother wasn’t paying attention to him, and he said something like – I don’t know.  He wanted Mother to treat him like she treats me and I – I said why do you want to be treated like me?  What’s so good about being treated like me?  Why does he need Mother, he’s already got you!”

Yang Haoran blinked.  “Ah?”

“Mother just wants a perfect heir, right?” Jiang Qingchen said, starting to speak very fast.  “That’s why I exist.  So – so won’t she only like me as long as I’m doing everything right?  And – and I’m doing everything right, but she doesn’t – Mother just tells me if I’m doing bad or if I’m doing good and she doesn’t talk to me about anything else, I don’t know if she cares about anything else as long as I’m doing my lessons well–”

This was not the explanation that Yang Haoran had hoped for.  It was, in fact, starting to sound uncomfortably familiar.

“And you don’t care about that.  I’m doing everything right and you don’t care.  You don’t – you don’t take me out for ice cream whenever I want or tell me I’ve done a good job even if I mess up or go to any of my school events, you just do that for Yun-er and I don’t know why you like him so much better than me, I know I don’t have your name like he does, but I’m your son, too, I’m doing everything right, why don’t you like me?”

And then Jiang Qingchen burst into tears.

Yang Haoran stared at him blankly.

I’m your son, too.  I’m doing everything right.  Why don’t you like me? 

It wasn’t quite right, but it was not unlike the thought process Yang Haoran himself had, as a child, when his parents had lavished all their attention upon his more talented older sibling.  

Yang Haoran had been aware that he did not treat Jiang Qingchen the same way he treated Yang Qingyun.  But Jiang Qingchen was the Jiang family’s heir – Jiang Mingxi’s to carefully train and mold.  He had known that by the very nature of this, she would not spend nearly as much time with Yang Qingyun. Even without that, Jiang Qingchen was a clever, talented child.  Not a genius, the way Yang Haoli was, but it was true that he was more accomplished than his younger brother, and the gap only grew as they got older.

So if he treated Yang Qingyun more indulgently than Jiang Qingchen – well.  That only evened things out, didn’t it?  The second child would get at least one parent’s attention, and wouldn’t constantly have to chase after the first to live well.  That was a happier life, wasn’t it?

[lizhly-writes]

#i am MADE of spoilers about my own writing #i am unable to keep secrets ahahaha #writer things

[lizhly-writes]

@m1sosazai fuckin ran out of room in the replies, SO. I am here. About the name change.

Surname's pretty simple. The og really resented being married out of the Yang family, so he insisted on at least one child with the Yang surname. The transmigrator doesn't really care, so we've defaulted to the Jiang surname.

About the given names? Jiang Mingxi has some veto power, but she's not very creative, so Yang Haoran (both of them) have to come up with them themselves, and that's why the children get different names.

Neither qīng (卿) nor lì (利) are the correct generation characters for the Jiang family; they haven't actually properly used generation names for like... fifty years. The reason why the children look like they have generation names anyway is because both iterations of Yang Haoran are used to siblings sharing characters in their names.

On the transmigrator's side, he just really wanted to name a kid "Lìān" (利安), and ended up repeating the "Li" character when it came to naming the second kid (Lìyún, 利云).

On the og's side, we have Qīngchén (卿宸) and Qīngyùn (卿运). I honestly didn't really think much about this while coming up with names, but... qīng is probably actually a generation character. It's just the generation character for the Yang family.

@m1sosazai welp

Yang Haoran didn’t think he was particularly good with children, but he figured that by sheer virtue of being a stay-at-home-dad, he couldn’t be any worse than his own parents.  It had to be easier to be a good parent if he literally occupied all his time with it.

This hadn’t exactly been his plan when he’d been sixteen years old and contemplating being a trophy husband for Jiang Mingxi, but the assumption that they’d both had made was that he would be the more present parent.  Jiang Mingxi was the one with the bigger, busier job that she actually cared about, and Yang Haoran… really couldn’t care less about his own career.

Like he’d told people before: he had no issue eating soft rice.

The children seemed to be doing well, at any rate, being left with him instead of a more experienced auntie.  They were all alive, at least.

“Congratulations, you’re alive!” he told Jiang Li’an, who was generally a very quiet, very serious boy – a lot like his mother, in some aspects – but still giggled when Yang Haoran picked him up.  He was maybe getting a little big for it now, but Yang Haoran was still capable of making it work.  If he worked out, he could probably keep this up even when Xiao An hit full adulthood.  Now, that would be something to see.

“Dad, what’s that supposed to mean?” Jiang Li’an said, which was fair enough.  It was a confusing thing to say to begin with.

“Nothing,” Yang Haoran said.  “I’m just happy you’re here.”

There was a tug at his leg.  Yang Haoran looked down.

Jiang Liyun was staring up at him, innocent and wide-eyed.  “Are you happy I’m here, too?”

“Yes,” Yang Haoran said.  “I’m happy to have both of my children. You’re both very good, very cute.”

“Dad,” Jiang Li’an said, who was possibly getting too old to enjoy being called cute.

Jiang Liyun considered this.  “That’s good.  Can you pick me up?” he concluded, and Yang Haoran obediently knelt down so Yun-er could clamber onto his back.

They were both getting very heavy, which Yang Haoran supposed was good for their health, but probably bad for his spine if he kept trying to do this.

Oh well. Whatever.  He could handle it.

“When’s Mom coming back?” Jiang Liyun said.

…He was maybe less equipped to handle that.

Yang Haoran restrained a sigh.  They had agreed that Yang Haoran was going to be the more present parent.  They hadn’t actually accounted for the fact that their kids still wanted Jiang Mingxi around, which, in hindsight, was sort of dumb of them to ignore.

She was their mother.  Of course they wanted her around.  Her attention, due to its rarity, was much more valuable than Yang Haoran’s, who was there all the time.

“She said she’d be back by Saturday,” Jiang Li’an said.  

“Really?” Jiang Liyun said.  “So she’s going to go to your tournament?”

Jiang Li’an slumped a little in Yang Haoran’s arms.  Yang Haoran tried not to wince.

Jiang Mingxi tried.  She really did.  But there were only so many things she could move around, and only so many places she could be at at once.  Ideally, she could make it back for Jiang Li’an’s tournament, but realistically speaking… flight delays happened.  Company events came up.  There were a lot of things to do, and it wasn’t exactly conducive to spending a lot of time with your children.

“She’s going to try,” Yang Haoran said.

“Really?” Jiang Li’an muttered.

[lizhly-writes]

I regret to inform you that Discord's new Terms of Service includes an arbitration clause. You can find it here https://discord.com/terms/#16. This clause includes an opt-out, which I have transcribed here:

You can decline this agreement to arbitrate by emailing an opt-out notice to [email protected] within 30 days of April 15, 2024 or when you first register your Discord account, whichever is later; otherwise, you shall be bound to arbitrate disputes in accordance with the terms of these paragraphs. If you opt out of these arbitration provisions, Discord also will not be bound by them.

These clauses are underhanded ways that corporations seek to deprive you of your right to participate in class-action lawsuits and your right to a jury trial. (This does only apply to us users ,other people still spread the word though )

[lizhly-writes]

Thinking about the werewolf from the hate mail Lemgo council pharmacist David Welman (1595 - 1669) got after being accused of being a werewolf

[lizhly-writes]

@m1sosazai welp

Yang Haoran didn’t think he was particularly good with children, but he figured that by sheer virtue of being a stay-at-home-dad, he couldn’t be any worse than his own parents.  It had to be easier to be a good parent if he literally occupied all his time with it.

This hadn’t exactly been his plan when he’d been sixteen years old and contemplating being a trophy husband for Jiang Mingxi, but the assumption that they’d both had made was that he would be the more present parent.  Jiang Mingxi was the one with the bigger, busier job that she actually cared about, and Yang Haoran… really couldn’t care less about his own career.

Like he’d told people before: he had no issue eating soft rice.

The children seemed to be doing well, at any rate, being left with him instead of a more experienced auntie.  They were all alive, at least.

“Congratulations, you’re alive!” he told Jiang Li’an, who was generally a very quiet, very serious boy – a lot like his mother, in some aspects – but still giggled when Yang Haoran picked him up.  He was maybe getting a little big for it now, but Yang Haoran was still capable of making it work.  If he worked out, he could probably keep this up even when Xiao An hit full adulthood.  Now, that would be something to see.

“Dad, what’s that supposed to mean?” Jiang Li’an said, which was fair enough.  It was a confusing thing to say to begin with.

“Nothing,” Yang Haoran said.  “I’m just happy you’re here.”

There was a tug at his leg.  Yang Haoran looked down.

Jiang Liyun was staring up at him, innocent and wide-eyed.  “Are you happy I’m here, too?”

“Yes,” Yang Haoran said.  “I’m happy to have both of my children. You’re both very good, very cute.”

“Dad,” Jiang Li’an said, who was possibly getting too old to enjoy being called cute.

Jiang Liyun considered this.  “That’s good.  Can you pick me up?” he concluded, and Yang Haoran obediently knelt down so Yun-er could clamber onto his back.

They were both getting very heavy, which Yang Haoran supposed was good for their health, but probably bad for his spine if he kept trying to do this.

Oh well. Whatever.  He could handle it.

“When’s Mom coming back?” Jiang Liyun said.

…He was maybe less equipped to handle that.

Yang Haoran restrained a sigh.  They had agreed that Yang Haoran was going to be the more present parent.  They hadn’t actually accounted for the fact that their kids still wanted Jiang Mingxi around, which, in hindsight, was sort of dumb of them to ignore.

She was their mother.  Of course they wanted her around.  Her attention, due to its rarity, was much more valuable than Yang Haoran’s, who was there all the time.

“She said she’d be back by Saturday,” Jiang Li’an said.  

“Really?” Jiang Liyun said.  “So she’s going to go to your tournament?”

Jiang Li’an slumped a little in Yang Haoran’s arms.  Yang Haoran tried not to wince.

Jiang Mingxi tried.  She really did.  But there were only so many things she could move around, and only so many places she could be at at once.  Ideally, she could make it back for Jiang Li’an’s tournament, but realistically speaking… flight delays happened.  Company events came up.  There were a lot of things to do, and it wasn’t exactly conducive to spending a lot of time with your children.

“She’s going to try,” Yang Haoran said.

“Really?” Jiang Li’an muttered.

#my writing

[lizhly-writes]

hi there, have an uncomfortable parent-child relationship.

Yang Haoran stared down his unruly child, arms crossed. Jiang Qingchen wasn’t looking him in the eye.  His posture: shoulders slumped, head down, arms crossed defensively over his stomach.  It projected hesitation and shame.  Yang Haoran had thought that Jiang Mingxi had trained this sort of thing out of her heir.  If you were going to make a mistake, you should at least do it confidently.

“I,” Yang Haoran said, “am almost certain your mother agrees with me about the importance of looking at people when they talk to you.”

“Yes, Father,” Jiang Qingchen mumbled, still staring at his toes.

Yang Haoran clicked his tongue. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Jiang Qingchen obediently raised his head.  He looked like he was about to cry, which was interesting, considering what just happened.

“Let’s review,” Yang Haoran said.  “You yelled at your younger brother until he started crying.  Does that sound correct?”

It didn’t sound correct to Yang Haoran.

The relationship between his two children was good.  Yang Qingyun adored his big brother, and Yang Haoran, up until this point, had very much thought the sentiment was returned.  There were the standard scuffles among children, of course, but overall, Jiang Qingchen had always been very nice to Yang Qingyun.

If there was to be any resentment between them at all, Yang Haoran had always thought it would be from Yang Qingyun – the younger resenting the older, just like how Yang Haoran resented his sister.

But here they were now.  It had taken some time to soothe Yang Qingyun quiet, and the child had spent the entire time saying things like “it’s fine” and “he didn’t mean it” and “Dad, it’s okay”.  

What was okay?

“Why did you yell at your younger brother until he started crying,” Yang Haoran said flatly.

“I’m sorry.”

“You can tell that to your brother later.  I want to know why.”

“No reason,” Jiang Qingchen mumbled.  “I just.  I was having a bad day.  I got.  Angry.”

Yang Haoran raised his eyebrows.  “You got angry?”

Jiang Qingchen had an amazingly mild temper.  This was something of a miracle, considering that both Yang Haoran and Jiang Mingxi were impressively angry people.  Yang Haoran had spent some time during that first pregnancy wondering if the shared tempers would exponentiate and result in a baby prone to beserker rages – but no.  Jiang Qingchen was lovely and well-behaved and obedient.

Except right now, for some reason.

“Come up with a better reason. You’re not very good at lying yet.”

“I’m not lying,” Jiang Qingchen said sullenly.  “I’m just…”

Yang Haoran waited – but no.  Jiang Qingchen felt content to let this sentence trail off into infinity.

“I am displeased with your behavior,” Yang Haoran said evenly, and watched Jiang Qingchen flinch.  “I would like an explanation for it.  You can give me one, or I can punish you.  What would you prefer?”

Jiang Qingchen made a choked sound. “You’re not even going to like my explanation.”

“I’d have to hear it first to know whether I’d like or not, wouldn’t I.”

Jiang Qingchen didn’t answer.

Yang Haoran waited patiently.

As expected, Jiang Qingchen cracked first, accustomed to being obedient as he was. “It was – it was dumb, Okay?  Yun-er – he was upset that Mother wasn’t paying attention to him, and he said something like – I don’t know.  He wanted Mother to treat him like she treats me and I – I said why do you want to be treated like me?  What’s so good about being treated like me?  Why does he need Mother, he’s already got you!”

Yang Haoran blinked.  “Ah?”

“Mother just wants a perfect heir, right?” Jiang Qingchen said, starting to speak very fast.  “That’s why I exist.  So – so won’t she only like me as long as I’m doing everything right?  And – and I’m doing everything right, but she doesn’t – Mother just tells me if I’m doing bad or if I’m doing good and she doesn’t talk to me about anything else, I don’t know if she cares about anything else as long as I’m doing my lessons well–”

This was not the explanation that Yang Haoran had hoped for.  It was, in fact, starting to sound uncomfortably familiar.

“And you don’t care about that.  I’m doing everything right and you don’t care.  You don’t – you don’t take me out for ice cream whenever I want or tell me I’ve done a good job even if I mess up or go to any of my school events, you just do that for Yun-er and I don’t know why you like him so much better than me, I know I don’t have your name like he does, but I’m your son, too, I’m doing everything right, why don’t you like me?”

And then Jiang Qingchen burst into tears.

Yang Haoran stared at him blankly.

I’m your son, too.  I’m doing everything right.  Why don’t you like me? 

It wasn’t quite right, but it was not unlike the thought process Yang Haoran himself had, as a child, when his parents had lavished all their attention upon his more talented older sibling.  

Yang Haoran had been aware that he did not treat Jiang Qingchen the same way he treated Yang Qingyun.  But Jiang Qingchen was the Jiang family’s heir – Jiang Mingxi’s to carefully train and mold.  He had known that by the very nature of this, she would not spend nearly as much time with Yang Qingyun. Even without that, Jiang Qingchen was a clever, talented child.  Not a genius, the way Yang Haoli was, but it was true that he was more accomplished than his younger brother, and the gap only grew as they got older.

So if he treated Yang Qingyun more indulgently than Jiang Qingchen – well.  That only evened things out, didn’t it?  The second child would get at least one parent’s attention, and wouldn’t constantly have to chase after the first to live well.  That was a happier life, wasn’t it?

#my writing

[lizhly-writes]

i'm not super sure why i'm still writing this, but here we are again.

Yang Qingyun wasn’t particularly like either of his parents, in personality, appearance, or talent.  The first two didn’t really matter, but the last one… well. 

Gege didn’t have this problem, because Jiang Qingchen was their perfect heir, talented and hardworking like both mother and father.  Top of the class, capable of playing multiple instruments, spoke multiple languages, etc etc.  

Yang Qingyun was… not.

It didn’t bother him, mostly.  You know, except when it did.

It bothered Dad, at least a little bit.  There was a lot of “if you tried harder” and “when I was your age” – but that was really it.  Maybe Dad was disappointed, but he never got worked up about it as long as Yang Qingyun wasn’t actively failing.  Dad still liked him. 

Mom talked the same, but.  That was about it.  “Try harder,” she’d say, and then she’d move on without another word. 

She didn’t treat his brother the same way.  No, she actually paid attention to Jiang Qingchen – every word and every movement up to her scrutiny and criticism, with the occasional “good job” and “well done” handed out when he impressed her.

Yang Qingyun couldn’t decide if he was jealous of it or not.  It seemed stressful, constantly making sure he could meet Mom’s expectations.  On the other hand, at least Mom could look at him for more than ten minutes.

It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling.  Was it she didn’t care about these things when it came to Yang Qingyun, or was it she didn’t care about Yang Qingyun at all?

He could have asked Dad, but it was 50/50 whether he would say something helpful or if he would just say something mean about Mom. 

So obviously, Yang Qingyun decided to ask the source.

“Hi Mom,” Yang Qingyun said, sticking his head in the doorway of his mother’s office.  “Are you busy?”

“What do you need,” Mom said, not looking up from her computer.  

“Do you love me less than Gege?” Yang Qingyun said.

Mom didn’t answer.  For  moment, he thought she hadn’t heard, and he prepared himself to repeat the question, with some amendments: is it because I’m less talented than him?  Is it because I’m less like you?  

Then she sighed, hand going to the bridge of her nose.  “Sometimes, you are just like your father.”

Yang Qingyun perked up.  “Am I?”

“You both ask uncomfortable questions like this,” Mom said.  “Why would you even – no.  Do you think I love you less than your brother?”

Yes.  No.  It was hard to say.  What could he say?  ‘No’, but then why would he be asking this question to begin with?  ‘Yes’, but how could he really put those words into the air?

Sometimes, I’m not sure if you even like me.

“I’m not your favorite,” Yang Qingyun hedged.  “You don’t… talk to me as much.”

welp, i made some new, entirely irrelevant ocs and a new dumb au

Father had wanted all of his children to have his surname.  But the entire reason Father and Mother were married to begin with was to continue the Jiang family line.  Yang Haoran wasn’t supposed to have any children surnamed Yang at all.

“But your mother wanted a second child,” Father said, smiling sharply, mean as always when he had to talk about Mother.  “She had her heir and she wanted a spare, if you will.  I told her if she wanted another one, then she could at least give me one with my name.  So.  That’s why you two don’t have the same name.  Any other questions?”

Father would answer pretty much anything, if prompted.  He usually wasn’t very nice about it.

Jiang Qingchen swallowed.  “No, Father,” he said – or at least he tried to say, because at that point, Yang Qingyun said, “Dad, are we still getting ice cream at XiaXia’s?”

Father’s smile didn’t become nice, exactly, but it lost its edges.  “Yes, of course, I said we were going to, why would you think we wouldn’t.”

And then they got ice cream, and then Father got distracted by Yang Qingyun, who was, overall, much better at distracting Father than Jiang Qingchen was.

A lot of it had to do with Yang Qingyun’s personality, but Jiang Qingchen was certain at least part of it was due to the fact that he was Yang Qingyun – the child that his father wanted that was all his, no Jiang obligation attached at all.

“Your brother likely won’t inherit,” Father said offhandedly.  “Spare, yes, I know I said – but since he has my name, it’s highly unlikely your mother will consider him a candidate for your position.  Of course, if we have another child, that one will be a Jiang, and maybe you’ll need to worry, but–” he laughed – “you’re already so old.  You’ll have an advantage.  There, you won’t need to compete at all, see?”

#my writing

[lizhly-writes]

welp, i made some new, entirely irrelevant ocs and a new dumb au

Father had wanted all of his children to have his surname.  But the entire reason Father and Mother were married to begin with was to continue the Jiang family line.  Yang Haoran wasn’t supposed to have any children surnamed Yang at all.

“But your mother wanted a second child,” Father said, smiling sharply, mean as always when he had to talk about Mother.  “She had her heir and she wanted a spare, if you will.  I told her if she wanted another one, then she could at least give me one with my name.  So.  That’s why you two don’t have the same name.  Any other questions?”

Father would answer pretty much anything, if prompted.  He usually wasn’t very nice about it.

Jiang Qingchen swallowed.  “No, Father,” he said – or at least he tried to say, because at that point, Yang Qingyun said, “Dad, are we still getting ice cream at XiaXia’s?”

Father’s smile didn’t become nice, exactly, but it lost its edges.  “Yes, of course, I said we were going to, why would you think we wouldn’t.”

And then they got ice cream, and then Father got distracted by Yang Qingyun, who was, overall, much better at distracting Father than Jiang Qingchen was.

A lot of it had to do with Yang Qingyun’s personality, but Jiang Qingchen was certain at least part of it was due to the fact that he was Yang Qingyun – the child that his father wanted that was all his, no Jiang obligation attached at all.

“Your brother likely won’t inherit,” Father said offhandedly.  “Spare, yes, I know I said – but since he has my name, it’s highly unlikely your mother will consider him a candidate for your position.  Of course, if we have another child, that one will be a Jiang, and maybe you’ll need to worry, but–” he laughed – “you’re already so old.  You’ll have an advantage.  There, you won’t need to compete at all, see?”

#my writing

[lizhly-writes]

Anyone ever put off starting a series or getting into a new craft or activity because you're current stimuli are doing you quite nicely and you KNOW there's heaps of dopamine stored in that new thing so you're saving it for whenever your next major depressive episode hits like a pika hoarding grass for winter or do I just have severe ADHD?

#ai. yeah #at one point a cooking show i really liked was ending #there were only two episodes left that i hadn't seen #i decided to save those episodes for a day i had the time to savor them #that was. 12 years ago i think #i don't remember if i ever watched those episodes

[lizhly-writes]

hi, i woke up at fuck o'clock in the morning and felt a sudden desire to write.

Watching Yue Qingyuan’s interactions with Shen Qingqiu was a little like watching a train crashing into a train only to fall off a cliff onto a train.  It was sad!  It was so sad that Shang Qinghua had to resort to drinking to not think about it!

Seriously, bro, who wanted to watch your fiance pine after another man on your own date?? It wasn’t like Shang Qinghua had feelings about Yue Qingyuan, but it was still weird!

At the end of it all, the conclusion was always this: Yue Qingyuan looked miserable.

“Wow, sucks to be you, bro,” Shang Qinghua said, because he might have had a little too much to drink and maybe his brain-to-mouth filter wasn’t quite on right.  Cultivator tolerance was beyond human limits!!  But so was Zui Xian’s finest brew, guaranteed to put a cultivator down and kill a mortal man!

“I don’t know what that means,” Yue Qingyuan said, still miserable.

“Well,” Shang Qinghua said.  “Simply put: my condolences.”

Yue Qingyuan laughed, still miserably.  “It really looks that bad?”

Not coming up with an answer better than, “Uh, fucking yeah, bro,” Shang Qinghua helpfully offered Yue Qingyuan a drink. Maybe a sip or two would be fortifying!  It was certainly enough to get Shang Qinghua pleasantly buzzed.

Miserably (still!), Yue Qingyuan took the flask.  Then he downed it all in one shot.

“Oh,” Shang Qinghua said.  “Fuck.”

…

As it turned out!!! Yue Qingyuan was not a happy drunk!

“I can’t do anything riiiiight,” Yue Qingyuan sobbed.  “If I push, I’m not respecting his boundaries and if I don’t push, I don’t care about him and I can never do what he wants–”

“Uh, there, there,” Shang Qinghua said, awkwardly patting Yue Qingyuan’s shoulder.  He didn’t really know what to do with crying people, but he had, you know, the faintest inkling that it would be bad for Qiong Ding’s head disciple to be drunk and crying in public, so he’d dragged them both to Yue Qingyuan’s residence. 

“I can’t make it up to Xiao Jiu.  I can’t do anything to make it up to Xiao Jiu.  He’s going to hate me forever–”

Shang Qinghua had done the bare minimum!  The rest of this was above Shang Qinghua’s paygrade!  Even if it was all his fault to begin with!

…. Ah, that wasn’t nice to think about.

“Have you considered maybe talking to him?” Shang Qinghua said.

hi. we're back to svsss again. i read Asymptotical's Many an Ill to Cure yesterday. There was this line that sort of caught in my head:

If this bit of lore was true, then Yue Qingyuan was married to Shang Qinghua of all people, and that was about the only matchup he could think of that was possibly worse than pairing Shen Qingqiu with Liu Qingge.

and my brain.... ran with it. not for very long, because i really don't have a GREAT grasp of these characters and also i should absolutely be doing something else. but here you go.

At the ripe old age of twenty-something, Shang Qinghua had successfully lied and cheated his ass off to become the An Ding Head Disciple. It absolutely didn't mean his troubles were over -- it was still An Ding, and An Ding always meant backbreaking work, no matter how high up you climbed, and haha also there was still the entire fucking plot left. But at least he had a really nice house now! At least people had to pretend to respect him! At least the System wouldn't keep that fucking countdown clock in the corner of his eye about how he had X months to make Head Disciple before it nuked his brain into a crisp!

Overall, things were going about as great as could be expected!

Except for, you know, this... this one little thing.

"What???" Shang Qinghua said, when Shizun had first lobbed it at his head.

The Lord of An Ding Peak looked askance at him. Shang Qinghua cleared his throat and tried again. "Begging this one's pardon, but... but could Shizun repeat that?"

"You'll be engaged to Yue Qingyuan," said the An Ding Peak Lord.

Yeah, that's what Shang Qinghua thought Shizun said.

FUCK!

This was his fault. Like, literally everything was his fault, seeing how he was effectively God, but this was a mistake that he didn't have to make! You could argue about the violence and the papapa, but in the end, he was speed-writing a stallion novel for money so he didn't starve.

But the engagement.

Airplane-Shooting-Towards-The-Sky had been trying to explain exactly why so many young, beautiful, cold cultivators were so eager to get with Bing-ge, even if they seemed to hate literally any other person ever. He'd eventually settled on the idea that in PIDW, even cultivators weren't truly respected as adults until they were married. In other words, marriage was a requirement! A spouse was a job position! Of course Bing-ge's wives would sell out for the best possible candidate, even if they were ambitious power-hungry snakes without a romantic bone in their body! Especially if they were ambitious power-hungry snakes without a romantic bone in their body!

In fact, even the Peak Lords of Cang Qiong did it! They were even married to each other! Even the Sect Leader! Haha, it wasn't so weird after all!

God. It would have been fine if he left it without explanation. It wasn't even like he kept the explanation -- no, he wrote it and forgot about it, just like how he did with half of the shit he wrote sleep-deprived and running on caffeine alone. And now he was stuck with this.

"Do you have any objections?" Shizun said, and then Shang Qinghua had to go noooo, of course not, Yue Qingyuan was a mighty and handsome cultivator who topped the unofficial rankings for most eligible bachelor on Cang Qiong for three years straight! How could this lowly Shang Qinghua possibly have any objections?

It was super lucky that Shen Qingqiu was too busy being engaged with Liu Qingge to murder Shang Qinghua for the affront.

Anyway, that was how Shang Qinghua had ended up here -- alone with Yue Qingyuan, sitting across from each other and drinking tea. There was a plate of delicately shaped cakes sitting between them that Shizun had heavily suggested Shang Qinghua should make. You know, to show off his culinary skills to his... his fiance.

“Shang-shidi," Yue Qingyuan said, turning a cake over in one hand. There was some muffled yelling in the background. Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge were clearly having a great time of their own scheduled courtship meeting session.

"Yue-shixiong," Shang Qinghua said. "Hi."

Yue Qingyuan's smile didn't waver. "These are very good," he said politely.

Of course they were good. Shang Qinghua wouldn't have been able to successfully suck up to Shizun if they weren't good. It had taken a lot of practice! And sabotage! Practice AND sabotage!

"Haha, thanks," Shang Qinghua said.

Faintly, an explosion sounded in the background. Yue Qingyuan's brows furrowed slightly. "Shidi," he said. "Could you perhaps open the door?"

#my writing #svsss #yue qingyuan #shang qinghua #yqy #sqh

[lizhly-writes]

#haha. yeah #writer things #on writing

[lizhly-writes]

there's not a lot you can count on in this world but one thing never changes

#ah. #again?

[lizhly-writes]

Neil Banged out his tunes today, on a train you have the comfort and relaxation to bang out your own tunes

[lizhly-writes]

@m1sosazai so. this was actually the first thing i considered. i thought this would cause some degree of confusion, which would mean i would need to write more before i got to what i considered the good part, AKA the reason why i started writing this to begin with.

i thought about it some more for you.

“Yang Haoran. Any relation to Yang Haoshu?”

Yang Haoran was smiling. He hadn’t actually realized it until right now, when he became uncomfortably aware of it. The expression felt a little stuck on his face, actually.

He had no memories of Yang Haoshu, but it wasn’t like he’d never met her. They had spent maybe an hour getting along, about as well as newborn babies ever did, before she had abruptly perished.

Yang Haoran had not known he had had a twin sister until he was, oh, maybe six years old. It wasn’t public information. Nobody talked about it. His parents certainly didn’t. They, according to his oldest and surviving sister, had taken it a little hard that Yang Haoshu hadn’t lived even twenty-four hours after her initial time of birth.

Yang Haoshu. No matter how much of a spotlight the media shone on the lives of people like them, only his family should know that she ever existed to begin with.

“That,” Yang Haoran said, smiling --- still smiling, he couldn’t seem to stop --- “is private information.”

“So a yes, then,” Chen Liwei said, and started laughing.

Yang Haoran didn’t have any personal feelings about Yang Haoshu. He couldn’t remember her. It was impossible. He had never eagerly anticipated her existence like his parents or his sister had. He could never convey a sentiment like “I love you,” and even if he did, it would sound fake.

But if he ever had a chance to talk to her, he would have to tell her this:

I’m sorry.

At a certain point, it had occurred to Yang Haoran that he shouldn’t be alive. This wasn’t low self-esteem or self-deprecation or depression. This was the simple fact that he was Li Yichang, and Li Yichang was dead.

Logically, the next question was: why was he was alive? Clearly he had entered the reincarnation cycle, but why did he remember? Why was it possible that he could view this as a second chance at life in the first place? What kind of price had to be paid for it?

At a certain point, it had occurred to him: Yang Haoshu was dead.

“I’m glad you’re getting some amusement out of this,” Yang Haoran said.

That name. Why did Chen Liwei know that name.

Yang Haoran flexed his fingers. He had never been a particularly violent person. He had, as his martial arts teacher had said, a very low amount of aggression. He was good at defense, but he was never going to be some kind of champion unless he actually mustered up some sort of desire to win.

To hurt someone, you could say.

Yang Haoran had never wanted to hurt someone as much as he did right now.

hi there.

So, a doppelganger walks into an office and ---

And then what?

If this was a joke, everyone would be eagerly waiting for the punchline. But no --- really, truly, there was a doppelganger narrowing his eyes at Yang Haoran, suited up a little like how Yang Haoran would dress for formal events, neatly pressed and ironed. “Fucking hell,” he said. “Who are you, Chen Liwei again?”

… Now, what a strangely familiar name. That surname and generation name --

“Is Chen Liwei any relation to Chen Lihua?” Yang Haoran said pleasantly.

“Fucking hell,” the doppelganger repeated, which didn’t really answer the question in any way, and dragged a hand down his face. “Let’s try that again. I’m Chen Liwei, who are you?”

Yang Haoran was starting to understand the appeal of an elevator pitch. You needed more than just “Hi, my name is” to understand who a person was. The standard “I work for {company name} and I’ve been a {job position} for {x} years and {insert reason here} is why I happen to have your goddamn face” would have been appreciated, if only to get more orientation than the meaningless combination of syllables that was a name alone.

“I’m Yang Haoran,” he said. “I’ve held a Software Engineer I position at the Yang Corporation for two years. I have both frontend and backend experience, though I lean more towards frontend than backend. I primarily work in JavaScript, but I --”

“Stop stop stop,” Chen Liwei said. “What the fuck are you doing.”

“I thought we were introducing ourselves,” Yang Haoran said. “Do you think I’m doing it wrong? I can talk about my likes, dislikes, and hobbies if we’re going with that instead.”

“I’d rather talk about something else,” Chen Liwei said, mouth pressed tight. “Yang Haoran. Any relation to Yang Haoli?”

Huh.

“Sure,” Yang Haoran said, for the sheer novelty of it. No one had ever asked him this. Either they already knew he was the young master of the Yang family, or the possibility of it seemed so absurd there was no point in wondering if it was true.

This did not seem to be the answer that Chen Liwei hoped for, because he started laughing, and only an idiot would think that it was happy laughter.

“Do I need to call someone?” Yang Haoran offered dryly. It had taken him time to stop automatically associating ‘emergency’ with ‘911’, but he knew perfectly well now that the number for the hospital was ‘120’.

“Fuck off,” Chen Liwei said.

#my writing

[lizhly-writes]

hi there.

So, a doppelganger walks into an office and ---

And then what?

If this was a joke, everyone would be eagerly waiting for the punchline. But no --- really, truly, there was a doppelganger narrowing his eyes at Yang Haoran, suited up a little like how Yang Haoran would dress for formal events, neatly pressed and ironed. “Fucking hell,” he said. “Who are you, Chen Liwei again?”

… Now, what a strangely familiar name. That surname and generation name --

“Is Chen Liwei any relation to Chen Lihua?” Yang Haoran said pleasantly.

“Fucking hell,” the doppelganger repeated, which didn’t really answer the question in any way, and dragged a hand down his face. “Let’s try that again. I’m Chen Liwei, who are you?”

Yang Haoran was starting to understand the appeal of an elevator pitch. You needed more than just “Hi, my name is” to understand who a person was. The standard “I work for {company name} and I’ve been a {job position} for {x} years and {insert reason here} is why I happen to have your goddamn face” would have been appreciated, if only to get more orientation than the meaningless combination of syllables that was a name alone.

“I’m Yang Haoran,” he said. “I’ve held a Software Engineer I position at the Yang Corporation for two years. I have both frontend and backend experience, though I lean more towards frontend than backend. I primarily work in JavaScript, but I --”

“Stop stop stop,” Chen Liwei said. “What the fuck are you doing.”

“I thought we were introducing ourselves,” Yang Haoran said. “Do you think I’m doing it wrong? I can talk about my likes, dislikes, and hobbies if we’re going with that instead.”

“I’d rather talk about something else,” Chen Liwei said, mouth pressed tight. “Yang Haoran. Any relation to Yang Haoli?”

Huh.

“Sure,” Yang Haoran said, for the sheer novelty of it. No one had ever asked him this. Either they already knew he was the young master of the Yang family, or the possibility of it seemed so absurd there was no point in wondering if it was true.

This did not seem to be the answer that Chen Liwei hoped for, because he started laughing, and only an idiot would think that it was happy laughter.

“Do I need to call someone?” Yang Haoran offered dryly. It had taken him time to stop automatically associating ‘emergency’ with ‘911’, but he knew perfectly well now that the number for the hospital was ‘120’.

“Fuck off,” Chen Liwei said.

#my writing