#Assassin of the Nightless City

[edswordsman]

💜 Summoned Wu Zetian (Assassin)! 💜

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[robininthelabyrinth]

The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 24

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

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Not even having to explain to Yu Ziyuan why they had ruined the Jiang sect’s event for a second time running could put a dent in Wen Ruohan’s good mood.

“You can’t really blame us for it,” he told her, wondering with amusement if he should mention that the sound of her teeth grinding in irritation was becoming almost audible. “We came here at your invitation to enjoy your sect’s little party and then were unexpectedly set upon by murderous assassins…assassins, let me remind you, that somehow managed to defy your sect’s security precautions, borrow your disciples’ clothing, and then attack your guests, when by all the rules of hospitality we ought to be under your protection. If the party also happened to be ruined as a result, well, that’s really nothing to do with us. In fact, we’re quite upset by it all.”

“Really,” Yu Ziyuan growled. “If that’s the case, then why – are – you – smiling?!”

That was mostly because Wen Ruohan couldn’t help it.

Lan Qiren was in love with him. Lan Qiren loved him. Lan Qiren was willing to trust him. Lan Qiren loved him!

That wasn’t anyone else’s business, though.

“Just trying to put a good face on it for the sake of your sect,” Wen Ruohan said, voice almost syrupy with how condescending he was being. “After messing up not one but two gatherings in front of the whole cultivation world, you practically have no face left at all…really, a smile or two is the least we can do for the sake of our good friends in Yunmeng Jiang.”

Yu Ziyuan’s eye was twitching. So was the finger upon which she wore Zidian, which hadn’t quite started crackling but had started emitting an almost subsonic hum of spiritual energy as if it was considering it.

Hmm. Perhaps he was overdoing it a little.

Not that Wen Ruohan cared.

Still, in the interest of not starting yet another fight that he was presently in no condition to win…

“At any rate, as you can see,” he added smugly, unable to feel any genuine caution when his heart was full of repeated refrains of I am loved, I am loved, “my husband has taken today’s events to heart.”

He nodded over at where Lan Qiren was sitting, still cleaning his sword and glaring balefully at everyone around him as if he suspected them of wrongdoing, having apparently decided to appoint himself as the paranoid one for the day.

If Lan Qiren were anyone else, Wen Ruohan would say that it was a beautiful display of subtle intimidation. The almost pristine glow of Lan Qiren’s almost entirely white outfit, marred only by the almost artful flecks of drying blood that highlighted the subtle red suns at the hems, acted as vivid contrast to the gory imagery of the bloody and at times incomplete bodies the Jiang sect disciples were still carrying out on mats from the room behind him, while the steady and sure motion of his hands drew the eye to focus on his sword, the one that had slain most of those people – an unspoken but extremely clear threat.

Of course, since this was Lan Qiren, he probably hadn’t thought about that at all.

Lan Qiren was a very good politician, when he put his mind to it – but he often forgot to put his mind to it. In fact, if Wen Ruohan had to bet, he’d say that Lan Qiren was probably currently thinking about some obscure Lan sect rule about cleaning your sword as soon as possible to avoid rust, about how it was valuable and taught all sorts of larger lessons and so on and so forth. Also, he’d probably want a bath as soon as possible, quite understandably, and certainly at a minimum by the time they got back to the Nightless City. He could just change clothing to get rid of the bloodstains, of course, but there was that general rule on changing clothing after bathing, and Wen Ruohan knew that Lan Qiren, with his fondness for routine, would prefer to do things in the proper order whenever possible.

(Lan Qiren, who loved him. Who was in love with him. Who would probably make that part of his routine as well, an everyday reminder that he belonged, body and soul, to Wen Ruohan…)

Lan Qiren was insisting on their leaving at once, which was quite reasonable under the circumstances. Wen Ruohan certainly wasn’t objecting. His sect’s disciples, who had rushed over as soon as he’d been able to properly signal them, had managed to keep a few of the assassins alive, including the one Lan Qiren had purposefully preserved. They had all been taken away to be interrogated – with the Fire Palace for once serving in its traditional capacity as a prison rather than Wen Ruohan’s personal playground – and answers would be forthcoming. Wen Ruohan had made that extremely clear to all of the assembled sect leaders.

Wen Ruohan had also made a number of very ominous statements about the vengeance he was imminently going to undertake as soon as he found out who was responsible for sending the assassins. Moreover, he had made clear that, as the victim of a dishonorable attack, he fully expected the cultivation world to back him in seeking reprisals, no matter what penalty he demanded – or else.

His announcement had spread a great deal of consternation throughout the crowd, all of whom were already somewhat keyed up due to the last near-war they’d been drawn into. It had caused any number of people to consider departing early as well, each to go back home to think over what to do next in peace rather than stay any longer in the Lotus Pier. Presumably it was those impending departures that had caused Yu Ziyuan to march up and pull Wen Ruohan aside for a quiet confrontation, with all of the seething, barely-concealed rage that had made her old Purple Spider moniker quite so famous visible on her face.

Again: not that Wen Ruohan cared.

Oddly enough, though, it seemed that something he’d said had soothed Yu Ziyuan’s fiery temper, or at least distracted her from it. Zidian was no longer making that irritating humming noise and her fingers no longer shook as if they were on the verge of being clenched into a fist; she was practically verging on normal.

Well, normal rage.

“Sect Leader Wen is very open-minded,” she said, very begrudgingly.

Wen Ruohan looked at Yu Ziyuan with some suspicion. Was she referring to the fact that he wasn’t blaming the Jiang sect for the assassination attempt? He’d wanted to, even though he was fairly certain they had nothing to do with it. Even if they hadn’t hired the assassins, it had been their negligence that had allowed the attack to occur at all, which meant that they ought to carry some share of the blame, and therefore some of the responsibility of making it up to him…but Lan Qiren had objected.

He’d said something about not sowing discord, or maybe about being easy on others. Wen Ruohan thought it was more likely that he just felt belatedly bad about having accidentally incited Cangse Sanren into stealing away the Jiang sect children at the same time she’d taken his nephews.

(They hadn’t told anyone that Cangse Sanren had brought them to the Nightless City, or indeed that Cangse Sanren and her family were currently residing with them rather than traveling the cultivation world. It seemed unwise to officially confirm it, lest they attract unwanted attention.)

“I will still be expecting Yunmeng Jiang’s support against the perpetrators, of course,” he clarified, but unexpectedly Yu Ziyuan waved her hand dismissively.

“Naturally you will have it,” she said coolly. “Whoever planned the attempt on your life, Sect Leader Wen, deliberately chose to use our Jiang sect as its scapegoat. In order to restore our good name, we must of course take every measure necessary to seek vengeance. That was not what I meant.”

“What, then?”

Very uncharacteristically, Yu Ziyuan hesitated for a while before answering. Just as Wen Ruohan was about to lose patience, she finally spoke, saying, “I meant…in the matter of your marriage.”

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows. What about his marriage? He’d made an excellent marriage. He’d known it from the start, and now the rest of the cultivation world was starting to realize it, too. And they hadn’t even figured out the bit about the classes yet!

None of that seemed to him to fit the criteria of rendering him “open-minded,” though. So what was Yu Ziyuan talking about?

Yu Ziyuan seemed to realize that she’d lost him, a frown appearing on her face as she watched the confusion on his.

“Do you really not mind?” she asked. “You are the stronger party, politically and personally, and you’re both men, not restrained by convention – shouldn’t Lan Qiren be the one calling you husband, rather than the other way around?”

Oh, so it was that again.

Ridiculous. Hadn’t they already covered that?

“My husband,” Wen Ruohan said, emphasizing the word mostly for the amusement it gave him to see the way it made her frown deepen, “is an innate conservative. He’s very fixed in his habits, and averse to change. Having been raised with the expectation that he would one day become a husband, it pleases him to be one, and it pleases me to see him pleased. What more does there need to be than that?”

“It cannot be that simple.”

“Why not? As you said, we’re not restrained by convention.” He smirked, deciding to needle her further. “Isn’t that part of your Jiang sect’s motto? Isn’t it ‘Make it work’?”

Her eye twitched again. “Attempt the impossible.”

“Isn’t that what I said? Make it work despite it being impossible.”

Yu Ziyuan scowled at him. “A mountain cannot contain two tigers,” she said testily. “A household cannot have two husbands. If he is the husband, then you are the wife, Sect Leader Wen. You cannot possibly be satisfied with the expectation that you are to submit to him, to abide by etiquette and decorum for him, to restrict your own activities for his sake…!”

“Does the sun care for the expectations of the earth?” Wen Ruohan asked carelessly. Lan Qiren had never demanded his submission in anything, except in bed – and even there, it was only ever something that added to Wen Ruohan’s pleasure, never something that had turned into an expectation or an insult. Lan Qiren had never once thought that what they did in bed meant anything about how they conducted their life outside it, as some men might have. On the contrary, when they were in public, it was Lan Qiren who sought wherever possible to abide strictly by etiquette, and part of that etiquette was supporting Wen Ruohan’s sect as the sect he’d married into, which in turn by default meant supporting Wen Ruohan himself as sect leader. “I have never restricted myself for the sake of others. I hardly plan to start now.”

“Really. Then does that mean, Sect Leader Wen, that you plan to take on the duties of a wife as well?” she asked scathingly.

“Actually, Qiren seems to have gotten it into his head that it is the duty of a husband to do the satisfying,” Wen Ruohan said dryly. “A Gusu Lan peculiarity, I expect. I wasn’t planning on disabusing him of the notion.”

Yu Ziyuan turned red. “That’s not what I meant!”

Wen Ruohan scoffed. “Then what do you mean? Do you expect me to manage my household like some commoner? I manage my sect, that’s close enough.”

“It is exceptionally different.”

“Perhaps for you,” Wen Ruohan said condescendingly. “Allow me to remind you that I am sect leader. I am free to implement my will as I wish – however I wish – and you have not identified one good reason why I cannot deviate from tradition.”

“At least you know you are deviating from tradition,” she snapped.

Wen Ruohan just barely restrained himself from saying something sarcastic like And of course your marriage is such a model of happy compliance with tradition, mostly since he was pretty sure she really would try to kill him if he did.

From the look on her face, he’d managed to convey the message anyway.

“If it matters to you, then it matters to you,” he said indifferently instead. “It certainly doesn’t to me.”

Yu Ziyuan’s expression somehow worsened, which he hadn’t thought was possible.

“We’ll be leaving now,” he said smoothly, deciding that it would be impolitic to drive his hostess into apoplexy. Not to mention that it would be such a shame to rob himself of the moral high ground right after a perfectly good assassination attempt had given it to him. “Qiren wants to fly back to the Nightless City to avoid any threat of ambush, and we must leave early if we are to arrive before the end of xu shi, which of course we must. You know how Gusu Lan is.”

Everyone knew how Gusu Lan was.

(If Wen Ruohan was ever to seek to invade the Cloud Recesses, he would be wise to launch his attack in the evening, right when their internal clocks would be urging them to rest instead of fight. Not that he would, of course – he couldn’t even imagine Lan Qiren’s reaction if he did, not even if it was forced upon him by Qingheng-jun’s actions. It was only something he’d considered before, in the abstract hypothetical…)

“Have a good journey,” Yu Ziyuan said. She was gritting her teeth again.

Wen Ruohan smirked and took his leave.

And then he took Lan Qiren, who was very relieved to hear that they were finally departing, and went home.

Wen Ruohan spent the entire flight back to the Nightless City, painfully long and boring as it was, feeling lighter than air.

Sure, there were still problems to be dealt with, not least of which was figuring out who had tried to have him killed – not just killed, but drowned, and at a party surrounded by the rest of the cultivation world, no less. Whoever it was had figured out that Wen Ruohan had used up all of his spiritual energy, that he was temporarily vulnerable, and they were undoubtedly already thinking through the next step in their plan, knowing that they only had a brief window in which to act before Wen Ruohan regained his invincibility.

Really, his paranoia ought to be going completely haywire, questioning everyone and everything, trying to figure out who was behind it – given that it couldn’t be Qingheng-jun, who was too newly out of seclusion to have the resources necessary to train up assassins unless there was something very significant Lan Qiren had left out of his descriptions of the Lan sect – and his political instincts ought to be focused on how all of these developments would impact the balance of power in the cultivation world and how to turn them in his sect’s favor. Even considering it purely from the standpoint of cultivation, he ought to be worrying about how weak he still was, how tired he was, how much the fight and even this journey home was taking out of him.

Instead, Wen Ruohan couldn’t stop smiling.

(Interestingly enough, it turned out that genuine smiles while issuing threats only made people even more inclined to worry – exceeding even their reaction to an intimidating smirk or ominous scowl. Who knew?)

But in his defense: Lan Qiren was in love with him.

There was always that.

There was always going to be that, because Lan Qiren was a Lan, a good Lan, in the classic model of his sect. When he gave his heart away, he did so irrevocably. Even if things were to shatter between them, the way things had gone somehow wrong between Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie, or the way they had with his first wife, with his brother, with his family – even if Wen Ruohan did something utterly beyond the pale, utterly unforgivable, the fact that Lan Qiren loved him wouldn’t change.

Of course, if he did something like that, Lan Qiren would make his life absolutely miserable, up to and including leaving him in the dirt, and that probably after yelling at him until he went deaf. Lan Qiren had been quite emphatically clear about his intentions in that regard, repeating himself several times, though Wen Ruohan privately thought that it was all a little unnecessary.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t already know.

He’d figured it out after the fiasco with the Fire Palace: the price of Lan Qiren’s continued good regard was nothing more or less than his own good conduct, persistent and maintained.

Once, that would have been infuriating.

Wen Ruohan had always been his own person. He had always gone his own way, done things in his own style, bowed to no one – his Wen sect’s symbol was the sun, and he as their sect leader was the sun in splendor, directly overhead and shining in full midday glory. Even among his brothers he had always been the most stubborn, the most bull-headed, whether in his insistence on learning the sneered-upon “support skill” of arrays to the point of mastery instead of focusing on the sword or his slow but persistent approach to becoming sect leader, which had been successful in the end. He had never yielded to anyone, whether through force or coaxing. He had never adjusted his behavior for someone else’s sake.

But now…

Well.

After a lifetime of betrayals, his own or others’, Wen Ruohan was willing to consider it an equal trade.

Love for love, that was easy. Trust for trust would be more difficult, but he was the best of the best: he was Wen Ruohan. He wasn’t afraid of a challenge.

And it wasn’t as if he was going to find someone else he wanted more. Who could be more fascinating or full of ridiculous contradictions than Lan Qiren – a rigid moralist who had nevertheless demonstrated his sincerity through slaughter? That had always been a surefire way to Wen Ruohan’s heart, though not a route he’d previously believed Lan Qiren likely to take. It had always been more along the lines of what he’d gotten out of his relationship with Lao Nie, both of them vigorous and blood-thirsty and suiting each other perfectly – or at least, they had before the other man had grown distant and disdainful…

Well, never mind about that.

Wen Ruohan had Lan Qiren now, and if he played his cards right, he would have him forever.

That was surely something worth smiling about.

He continued smiling even when they arrived, frightening his servants. Lan Qiren didn’t notice, but then he was practically falling asleep standing up. Whether that was because of the energy expenditure of having to fly such a distance immediately after a vicious fight and emotional upheaval or simply that it had gotten late enough for all good proper Lan disciples to go to bed, it was impossible to tell.

“Do you require my services tonight?” Lan Qiren blearily asked Wen Ruohan, who snorted involuntarily in amusement at his serious expression.

“I think not,” he said dryly. “Look at you, you’re already yawning. I doubt you’d be able to, ah, rise to the occasion.”

Lan Qiren frowned censoriously at him. “Even if I cannot, I can still do my duty, if that’s what you desire.”

Wen Ruohan did desire, as it happened – he had a great deal of appreciation for Lan Qiren’s hands and tongue, both of which had become exceptionally skilled through the application of consistent practice – but he still said, “No need. You can make it up to me with interest tomorrow.”

It was an interesting novelty to deny himself for another’s sake. He’d observed that Lan Qiren, lacking as he did an internal instinct towards desire, at times also lacked a good sense of judgment as to when it was appropriate to offer to have sex, although tragically he’d picked up enough etiquette to be resistant to frolicking in public where people could see. It therefore fell to Wen Ruohan to bear the responsibility of being the final arbiter of such things, to ensure that Lan Qiren would be in a position to enjoy himself as well as providing enjoyment for his partner.

With a final yawn, Lan Qiren nodded and went off to find his bed, not bothering to wait for Wen Ruohan to join him. Presumably he’d figured out that Wen Ruohan was too full of nervous energy to rest, meaning that tonight was going to be one of his occasional bouts of insomnia.

Normally, on nights like these, Wen Ruohan would stalk through the halls of the Nightless City like a wandering ghost before eventually finding himself drawn to the Fire Palace and its screams, its reminder that he was alive, but that was unnecessary tonight. Tonight he already felt wholly alive, completely vibrant. In fact, that was the issue: he felt full of energy, like he wanted to do something. And not just anything, but something productive – to set up an experiment in arrays, perhaps, or practice sparring with the sword against some worthy opponent, or even…

Even…

Wen Ruohan smiled.

Cangse Sanren found him the next day.

“It’s already noon, you know,” she announced, having entered the room without knocking. “Also, my husband was the one who actually found you here, but he decided to nominate me to be the one to interrupt you. I’m less killable than he is.”

“Is that the case?” Wen Ruohan asked, not looking up from what he was doing. “And here I thought all you celestial mountain disciples were doomed.”

“We are. There’s some big scary beast marching towards my future, coming to tear me limb from limb; it’s inevitable, as sure as the dawn, but that also means there’s no point in worrying about it now. But putting that aside, people are more used to me being annoying, so they put up with it more.” She paused. “Are you painting? I didn’t know you knew how to paint.”

Wen Ruohan ignored her. He was almost done, so he wasn’t going to stop now just to talk.

“You’re a good painter,” she commented, peeking around his shoulder. “I had no idea. And I mean…you’re really good. Exceptionally good – ”

“You can stop sounding surprised about it at any point.”

“I’m just saying, I didn’t know you had hobbies other than torturing people.”

“This is not a hobby,” he clarified, finishing the final few strokes and putting down his brush. “This is an aberration. It’s a gift. For Qiren.”

“As if you would pick up a brush for anyone else,” she snorted, and inelegantly tried to shove him to the side so that she could get a better look at what he’d created. It didn’t work, of course, since he was stronger than she was, but he stepped aside anyway. “…huh. That’s…not what I expected. This is the first painting you’re going to give to him?”

Wen Ruohan shrugged. Other than his brief flirtation with portraiture, which had been an exclusively financial decision during a period of time when his backing within the Wen sect had been especially shaky, he’d always treated painting the way he did his cultivation: something to develop and nurture and even perfect, but not to force.

Back when he’d been alive, his favorite brother, Wen Ruoyu, had been Wen Ruohan’s primary target for these sorts of painting gifts. He’d had a fondness for collecting things, so he always accepted the gifts, but he’d found them confusing. You say this is meant for me? As in, you painted it specifically for me? he’d often asked, squinting at whatever the latest one was. What in the world do you mean by giving me this in particular? What’s the symbolism here stand for? What does it mean?

If I could have told you what it meant, I wouldn’t have needed to paint it, now would I? Wen Ruohan had always retorted. Tell me if you like it or not. If you don’t, I’ll take it back and give you another.

I like it, I like it! Don’t you dare take away things that are mine!

“Well, it’s not like I didn’t know you were several kinds of fucked up in the head,” Cangse Sanren remarked, interrupting Wen Ruohan’s wandering thoughts. “If there’s anyone who’d think that painting a war scene is a good gift for their lover, it would certainly be you. But lucky for you, Qiren’s taste in art runs towards the complicated, so I think he might like it anyway.”

Wen Ruohan had indeed painted a war scene, though he was mildly impressed that Cangse Sanren had been able to identify it as such. There were no people in it – it was mostly trees, and rocks, and blood, the occasional glint of broken steel and furrows dug deep. Hidden in the painting were the signs of cultivators at battle: splintered bark with smoldering anchor points, smeared ash and cinnabar left behind by burnt talismans, sharp and unnatural angles revealing cuts by sword or string.

Color had been used only sparingly, as an accent, and his brushwork was as brutal and ruthless as it had ever been, leaving the whole image with a gloomy and morbid air, grey, hopeless, and depressing.

He’d even painted it from the angle he’d once seen it from, with the trees reaching up into the heavens, tangled limbs suffocating the sky.

It was probably not an appropriate gift to give to one’s lover.

Wen Ruohan was going to give it to him anyway. Maybe he really would get lucky, and it would suit Lan Qiren’s tastes. Even if it didn’t, though, that would be fine – the point had always been in the making and the giving.

“Where is Qiren, anyway?” he asked.

“Meditating in your yard. He did sect business for a shichen in the morning, earlier on, once he realized you were busy, but as soon as he finished the urgent business, he told them all to come back tomorrow with the rest.”

“Good.” Wen Ruohan hadn’t been planning to do any business at all. Lazy days were what secretaries were for. “Next question: where are the children?”

Cangse Sanren arched her eyebrows. “Yours, mine, the Lan or the Jiang?”

“I meant Qiren’s nephews, as it happens. But you referred to mine – did you just mean Chao-er, or is Xu-er back?”

“Yes, he arrived yesterday morning, so there’s both of them here. He’s in his room, as are all the others. Do you want to see him?”

Oddly enough, even though he had no specific purpose in mind, Wen Ruohan found that he did.

“Father!” Wen Xu stood up quickly when Wen Ruohan strode into his rooms. So quickly, in fact, that he accidentally knocked all the papers off his desk and all over the floor. “I didn’t – I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I wanted to confirm that you were in one piece after what happened with the army in Jiujiang, Xu-er,” Wen Ruohan said mildly, doing his best not to smirk. Unfortunately for his son, Wen Ruoyu had also been a master of the “knock everything off the table so that they don’t see what I was looking at” dodge, and it hadn’t worked when he’d done it, either. “I am pleased to see that you are.”

“Uh, yeah,” Wen Xu said. He was blinking rapidly. “I…Teacher Lan said the same thing.”

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows. Lan Qiren moved quickly when he wanted to, it appeared – Wen Xu was already calling him “Teacher Lan” despite having undoubtedly met him all of maybe once. “Did he?”

Wen Xu looked embarrassed for whatever reason, so Wen Ruohan put his hands behind his back and gave his son an expectant look.

“He said you were proud of me for how I handled myself. Even though all I did was get sent away!” Wen Xu blurted out, then looked horrified at himself. Presumably at the gross sentimentality of what Lan Qiren had said, which was more than a little ridiculous – Wen Xu really hadn’t done anything of note, not unless one counted not complaining about being sent away and listening to the generals’ advice to avoid making the situation worse. And, well, not getting kidnapped and used as blackmail at any point while retreating.

Which Wen Ruohan supposed had been rather helpful.

Well, be your spouse’s partner and all that. If he wanted Lan Qiren to have a genuine shot at improving Wen Xu, it wouldn’t do to undercut his authority as a teacher before he’d even had a chance to get started.

“I am,” he said, and reasoned virtuously to himself that it wasn’t a lie even if he hadn’t given the subject a single thought before this exact moment – after all, he was always proud of his sons, who were his bloodline and therefore superior to all others. Anyway, even if it was, it wasn’t like the Wen sect abided by Do not tell lies. “You did well.”

Wen Xu looked stunned to the point of breathlessness.

Actually, he looked like he’d stopped breathing entirely.

Wen Ruohan decided that that was probably enough torment for a teenager for one day.

“You should write to your master in the army and advise him that I will be keeping you by my side for the near future,” he said, moving to practical matters instead. “If he wishes to continue your training, he should send someone here.”

Wen Xu recovered with admirable speed, straightening his spine and looking as dependable as he could at fifteen. “Yes, Father. I’ll do that at once!”

Wen Ruohan nodded. And then, because he could, he added, nodding at the pile of paper on the floor: “I’ll leave you to your romance novels, then.”

The horrified sound Wen Xu made was appalling.

Wen Ruohan walked off, chuckling to himself.

Continuing his inexplicable impulse from earlier, he decided to check in briefly on Wen Chao as well.

“Go away,” Wen Chao said, not looking up from where he was lying on his stomach reading something with a great deal of pictures and absolutely no substance. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“You do not command me, Chao-er.”

“Father!” Wen Chao jumped up at once. He didn’t make any effort to hide his picture-book – a heavily illustrated adventure, rather than a romance – and scurried over, looking delighted to see him, as usual. “Father, you’re here, you’re here!”

“Mm. Tell me what you have been up to.”

“I’ve been spending time with the other sect heirs, just like you told me to,” Wen Chao said proudly. “They’re very annoying, lots of trouble, but I can handle them. They’re no match for me!”

Wen Ruohan had no difficulty in discerning that this was extremely high praise for Wen Chao’s new friend group, potentially even gratitude and joy that they’d willingly included Wen Chao in their antics, and also that Wen Chao desperately wanted the present state to keep going forever.

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said. “Continue as you are. Become close to them and learn more about them, learn from their virtues and vices both. And listen when Teacher Lan tells you things meant to improve you. Make me proud.”

“Yes, Father! I will!”

That done, Wen Ruohan finally made his way down the hall to where his original targets, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji, were being housed. He needed the two of them to do something for him.

After all, he owed Lan Qiren a debt, and it was time to deliver.

“Qiren,” he said, walking into their rooms later that afternoon. “I have something for you.”

He’d picked a good time: Lan Qiren was neither meditating nor playing his guqin, and neither was he composing – an activity that also involved a guqin, but a great deal more angry plucking, grumbling, and furious scribbling. Instead, he was only writing something down on scrap paper, though whatever the content of the note was, it was making him frown deeply, with a furrow between his brows that suggested that the subject was genuinely concerning to him.

“There you are,” Lan Qiren said, looking up. “I have something to say to you as well – ”

He paused, his expression suddenly clearing, discomfort making way for an expression of surprise, as well as something that seemed torn between pleasure and apprehension. “Did you say that you had something for me?”

“I did,” Wen Ruohan said agreeably. “Several things, in fact. Is what you have to say urgent?”

“Not at all,” Lan Qiren said bemusedly, rising to his feet and coming over. “It can wait, and indeed I would insist that it do so, given the alternative. What have you gotten me?”

Wen Ruohan produced two small booklets from inside his robes and handed them over.

Still looking somewhat wary, Lan Qiren accepted them, then opened the first one.

A moment later, he let out a surprised bark of laughter.

Wen Ruohan smirked triumphantly, watching the tension in Lan Qiren’s shoulders disappear. The man was too used to bad surprises, to everything that was unknown or a change being a bad thing – it was about time that he learned that some changes were good.

“I realize that my behavior was inappropriate, both in the specific situation and in general,” Lan Qiren read out loud. “When I am angry, I should withdraw from the situation and do what it takes to master my emotions, to better maintain my own discipline, before making any bad decisions. Under no circumstance should I take my mood out on other people, and especially not family. Additionally, I particularly recognize that I should always take the time to listen to you before making a final judgment. I have learned a valuable lesson from what I did, and I will not do it again – Wen Ruohan, did you get Xichen to write you an apology essay for me?”

“I got both your nephews to write me apology essays to give to you,” Wen Ruohan corrected him. “The second one is from Wangji.”

“Of course it is.” Lan Qiren’s shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter again. “That’s - this is terrible. Your apologies keep getting worse and worse – and this one is unnecessary! I have already forgiven you.”

“This one isn’t an apology. It’s punishment.”

Lan Qiren’s eyebrows went up. “Oh?”

“You said the purpose of punishment is deterrence and remediation – that I need to take some loss in order to show my sincerity, to pay for the past and to make a deposit as assurance for good conduct in the future. A loss that means something to me, the way pain and time don’t.” Wen Ruohan reached out and cupped Lan Qiren’s cheek with his hand. “Something that can show you that I really have…how did he put it? That I ‘learned a valuable lesson from what I did, and will not do it again’.”

Lan Qiren leaned into his touch, smiling faintly. “And you think you have done that with this? What is your logic?”

Wen Ruohan found himself returning the smile. There it was, there was what he’d been looking for.

Lan Qiren was giving him the benefit of the doubt.

On the surface, it was patently ridiculous to think that convincing two boys to write essays could be a sufficient punishment, something that it could constitute a loss for someone of Wen Ruohan’s stature and power. Lao Nie would have thought he was joking, would have laughed along with a jest he wasn’t making, while his wives would have thought he was being sarcastic, that he was mocking them; they would have stormed out, maybe after throwing something at his head.

Lan Qiren just waited, certain that an explanation (of whatever quality) would be forthcoming.

“In our first visit to the Lotus Pier, I offered to help your nephews find you,” Wen Ruohan said, withdrawing his hand. “But not for free. I asked each of them to promise me a favor: one each.”

Lan Qiren frowned. “Unrestricted?”

“Your Xichen tried his best – he insisted on it being ‘nothing bad.’ But he’s young. He put no other restrictions on it, neither time, nor goal, nor extent…”

Lan Qiren winced. An open-ended favor like that, from a future sect leader, from a sect that did not make promises lightly, that did not break promises lightly, not even when they were extracted under duress…he knew exactly the sort of mischief Wen Ruohan could get up to with something like that. He’d seen it, even. In the ten years that the Lan sect was under his leadership, Lan Qiren would have been well aware that Wen Ruohan had twice utilized far more limited favors he was owed to devastating effect.

No, Lan Qiren well knew to be wary of such favors. He understood the gravity of such a thing – and just as he recalled it, that was when the understanding hit.

Wen Ruohan had the pleasure of seeing Lan Qiren genuinely shocked.

“You used those favors to get them to write these essays?” he exclaimed. “Surely not!”

Wen Ruohan smirked. “Is that sufficient loss for you?”

“More than sufficient! I would not have asked you to give up an advantage like that,” Lan Qiren said, frowning at him. “I might have sought to blunt the effects of the favors they had given, particularly in light of their age and immaturity, but a promise made is a promise made. Surely you know that – you are sect leader, and this is not a personal matter between us. Favors between sects is a matter of your sect, which is your first priority. I would not wish to abuse my position as your husband to interfere.”

“You might not wish to, but you might regardless,” Wen Ruohan said dryly, having figured out a little more of Lan sect cleverness with words by now. “And you might not, though I wish that you would.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are my husband,” Wen Ruohan said, as much for the pleasure of seeing Lan Qiren automatically smile at the reminder as to make the point. “That makes youhalf-master of my Wen sect in your own right…of our Wen sect. Our Wen sect is known for its arrogance, our superiority, our certainty that we deserve everything good in the world, and I would be very happy to see the same in you, Qiren.”

He shook his head.

“It is not abusing your position to want things, even things that are not necessarily to our Wen sect’s immediate benefit,” he said. “I want you to want things. I want you to ask for…no, I want you to demand everything that you want. I want you to learn to expect to receive what you ask for, rather than expecting to have to struggle to obtain it.”

Lan Qiren didn’t understand, Wen Ruohan could see that.

He found his voice softening. “You deserve the best, Qiren. You deserve to have the best given to you: without pain, without struggle, without effort, just for the asking. The world is your rightful due, and if you only ask for it, I would give it to you.”

“You are not using me as an excuse to take over the world,” Lan Qiren informed him primly, but there was something in his eyes that suggested that he had understood a little of what Wen Ruohan meant, even if he didn’t comprehend the fullness of it. At minimum, he’d understood that Wen Ruohan meant that he was family now – Wen Ruohan, who had always put his family over everyone, for good or for evil, with reason or without, following faithfully in the path laid out by Wen Mao in prizing their Wen clan over the whole world. Perhaps he even understood what Wen Ruohan was really saying: that he would now put him first, first before anything.

It might take some time before Lan Qiren could really bring himself to believe what Wen Ruohan told him, and even longer before he was willing to act with that glorious arrogance that Wen Ruohan so longed to see in him, that carelessness and freedom that accompanied true power. But at least he understood that that was something Wen Ruohan wanted to give to him.

A good change, rather than bad.

“This is my promise to you,” Wen Ruohan told him, nodding at the essays. “My loss, yes, my sect’s loss, also yes, but it is the loss I should take. It is my payment for not trusting you, as I should have, because not trusting you is a loss.”

Wen Ruohan was known for many things. He was blood-thirsty, a tyrant, a madman who delighted in torture; he was brilliant, a master of cultivation, ancient and terrifying. He was paranoid and cruel and selfish, and he put his ambitions above everything else.

He might be all those things, but Lan Qiren had chosen him anyway. The least he could do was choose him in return – to let Lan Qiren change him the way he wanted to change Lan Qiren. To trust him, yes, but also…to be worthy of his trust in return.

To be anything less –

Now that would be the real loss.

And, of course, Wen Ruohan did not lose.

Lan Qiren was staring at him open-mouthed.

“Do you understand?”

“…yes. I understand.”

Wen Ruohan kissed him. After a moment, he released him.

Lan Qiren still looked dazed. It was a good look on him.

“Now tell me,” Wen Ruohan teased. “Was that a good enough punishment?”

“If I were grading you, I would pass you with honors,” Lan Qiren said fervently.

Wen Ruohan laughed.

“Now, it is your turn to tell me,” Lan Qiren added, recovering a little. “Do I dare read what Wangji wrote…?”

“I genuinely have no idea,” Wen Ruohan said cheerfully. “He did it all in musical notation.”

“Oh no.”

“I like your second nephew. He’s clever.”

“Please refrain from getting any bright ideas. I am already working diligently on helping him recover his equilibrium; he does not need any further assistance in growing any more feral, and still less does he need to grow any more tyrannical than he already is.” Lan Qiren shook his head. “I will review the essays in full later, and I expect to be greatly amused by them, both immediately and for a great deal of time into the future. Thank you.”

“Of course. Would you like to see what else I have for you?”

Lan Qiren glanced at him sharply. “There’s more?”

“No need to sound so plaintive,” Wen Ruohan chuckled. “Do not do things in excess, or however the rule goes.That was all for the punishment. This one is an out-and-out gift – I painted something for you.”

“You painted…? Is that where you were all morning?”

“All night and all morning,” Wen Ruohan corrected. “It’s in my secondary study, if you’d like to come see it now. Or would you prefer to first discuss the subject that you mentioned earlier?”

Oddly enough, that caused the worried furrow to return to Lan Qiren’s brow, and he hesitated for a long moment before eventually saying, “Do not harbor doubts or jealousy, do not fail to carry out your promise. I think we had better discuss it now.”

That didn’t sound promising. Wen Ruohan tilted his head to the side. “Very well. What is it that you wanted to discuss, then?”

“It is about Lao Nie,” Lan Qiren said slowly. “I promised to myself that I would speak with you on the subject at the first instant I could. And yet, as time goes on, I find myself searching for further reasons to refrain for a little longer – which is misconduct on my part, although understandable. I have only just had you confirm that you returned my feelings, which has brought me tremendous joy. When one feels great joy, one seeks to preserve it…I suppose I wished to have you to myself for a little longer.”

“You do have me to yourself,” Wen Ruohan said, a little confused. “Lao Nie and I are not on the best of terms, as you yourself have seen. While it is true that we have never officially broken off our relationship, his recent actions and behavior make it clear enough that that will be the inevitable result, and sooner rather than later. He suspects me at every turn, disdains me, becomes angry at anything and everything I do – ”

“He had a qi deviation.”

Wen Ruohan stopped.

For a moment his mind rebelled, refusing to accept what his ears told him they had heard. “What?”

“He had a qi deviation, not long ago,” Lan Qiren said. His voice was solemn, serious, and Do not tell lies. He was telling the truth. “His son, Nie Mingjue, told me about it. You know what fate awaits the sect leaders of Qinghe Nie. You know how it looks, when it starts. You know what it does to them. How it makes them feel – ”

“Rage,” Wen Ruohan said, finding that his lips had started tingling, even if the rest of his face felt strangely numb. He did know. He’d seen Lao Nie’s father and grandfather suffer from the very same thing. “Disdain. Irrationality. Suspicion, paranoia…are you saying that you think his qi deviation is the genesis of his recent behavior?”

“I believe it is likely. You know how subtle qi deviations can be, particularly the small ones that the Nie sect initially suffer from – even if it was only discovered recently, it is likely that the deviation has been affecting him for months, perhaps even a year or two. From what I have observed of your disintegrating relationship, and based on your description of past events, his seeming distrust and your reaction to it…yes, it seems likely.”

Wen Ruohan…

Wen Ruohan didn’t know what to do with that information.

He didn’t want to believe Lan Qiren. He wanted to accuse him of lying, even though he knew he didn’t. He wanted to throw something, hit something, hurt something – he wanted to claim that this was all some sort of sick scheme, designed to strike him right when he was most vulnerable. But he’d promised to trust Lan Qiren, and he did trust him, and if there was one thing he knew, it was that Lan Qiren did not lie.

Lao Nie had had a qi deviation.

Lao Nie was dying.

Lao Nie – Lao Nie had come to Wen Ruohan when he’d been at his lowest point, when he’d been sick and tired of living, entertained by pain and nothing more. At that time, Wen Ruohan had been on the verge of considering entering the way of clarity, a path that cut off his feelings entirely as a means of avoiding the endless misery of having them mostly cut off already. He’d been searching for some method, any method, to stop the way he felt dead inside most of the time, dead and bored. Dead, and bored, and…and alone.

Lao Nie hadn’t let him be alone.

Lao Nie had brought to bear all the good cheer his considerable force of personality gave him, and he had aimed it at him. Lao Nie had laughed at him, had teased him, had all but demanded a place in his bed, and Wen Ruohan had found him amusing. It hadn’t been anything more than that at the start of it. He’d been glad that it’d been nothing more than that – he’d thought at the time that he didn’t want any more connections to the world to tie him down, to hold him back. What Lao Nie had offered him had seemed perfect.

A friend, an occasional lover, someone willing to slaughter his way into Wen Ruohan’s good graces, but without any serious commitment…it’d been easy. Casual. Light-hearted, the way Lao Nie always was, no matter the circumstances.

Even when their sects had been at odds, it hadn’t ever gotten any more difficult. Lao Nie was a Nie after all; he was straightforward and blunt, even when he was being clever or tricky. He held no fear of lying, did not refrain from it like Lan Qiren, but his actions, at least towards Wen Ruohan, were so lacking in malice that it was impossible to take offense from them. He’d always saved his malice for other people, and let Wen Ruohan share in the fun with him…

Yes, that was it. Lao Nie had always been fun.

And then he’d disappeared for a while, and returned with Nie Mingjue.

That had been the first break between them. A small one, but still a break – it wasn’t that Wen Ruohan hadn’t expected the man to marry eventually, since as sect leader he had a duty to continue his family line, but for whatever reason he’d expected to be involved in the process. Helping pick out some likely girl, debating her merits, that sort of thing, the same way they amiably argued over the pick of prostitutes during parties they attended. He hadn’t expected to be taken by surprise.

He hadn’t expected to care.

It had been only a little consolation that everyone else had been taken by surprise, too.

And of course it had helped that the First Madam Nie, Lao Nie’s much talked-of goddess, never actually made an appearance herself, even if she did get full honors in the Nie sect’s family record. It had been awkward, yes, and had made Wen Ruohan realize that he felt more things for Lao Nie than he really ought to – he’d reacted by ignoring said feelings for nearly a decade – but it hadn’t really felt like a betrayal.

The second wife felt like a betrayal.

They’d argued over that one. Lao Nie hadn’t understood why Wen Ruohan would care, and Wen Ruohan was too arrogant, and too embarrassed, to admit the truth that he did. After all, hadn’t he been the one to insist on them being nothing more than casual friends who occasionally indulged in more than that? And that was all he wanted, too, or thought he’d wanted, only he’d also wanted to be the most important part of Lao Nie’s life, and it came as a nasty shock to discover that he wasn’t. To discover that Lao Nie was actively pursuing others, and that he would pick them over Wen Ruohan if it came to it.

Things had never quite gotten better after that.

Oh, once Lao Nie’s second wife had died – or disappeared, whichever – they had fallen back into each other’s orbit, being almost too familiar with each other not to. They were the leaders of Great Sects, who knew virtually no peer; of that smaller group, they were the only two who were genuinely powerful in their personal capacities, or at least so Wen Ruohan had thought at the time. He’d known that Lao Nie was exceptionally fond of Lan Qiren, fond enough to almost drive Wen Ruohan into jealousy, but luckily he’d heard enough of Lan Qiren’s lectures to know that the two of them would never be compatible in any real sense. Even if Lao Nie had managed to get Lan Qiren into bed, the way Wen Ruohan had semi-seriously suggested to the man a few times that he try to do and which Lao Nie had laughed off as impossible, he’d been confident that Lan Qiren would never eclipse his own position in Lao Nie’s regard.

It certainly hadn’t occurred to him that he might be the one to fall for Lan Qiren in the end.

Wen Ruohan felt confident that he would have acted in the same way, fallen in the same way, even if his relationship with Lao Nie had not deteriorated to such an extent before he’d married Lan Qiren, but that didn’t change the fact that it had. It didn’t change the fact that Wen Ruohan had been growing steadily more offended by the way Lao Nie never seemed to trust him anymore, the way he always ascribed the worst possible motives to him, the way he seemed to think so little of him. Lao Nie had always had a suspicious side to him, which Wen Ruohan had once liked, a point of similarity between them, but he hadn’t liked it when it was aimed at him. Especially when he actually hadn’t done anything to deserve it!

Suspicion – anger – disdain –

It had never occurred to Wen Ruohan that it could have been caused by a qi deviation.

Perhaps it should have, given Lao Nie’s poisonous heritage, but it never had. Lao Nie was Lao Nie: he laughed where his ancestors would have shouted, let his anger carry him forward without letting it master him. He’d looked for solutions to his familial issue, of course, the way all of his ancestors had, but he’d done so idly, not serious, never serious. He always took things so easily. How could he die of rage?

How could he die?

“How long?” Wen Ruohan asked. The Nie sect doctors knew their business by now, after as many generations as it had been. “What do they say?”

“Ten years,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan actually took a step back, staggering, horrified: that was so short. “Nie Mingjue said they’d expressed hope for fifteen, maybe even twenty, but that may have been meant only as comfort. As you know, Nie sect leaders die faster the more powerful they are, and Lao Nie’s cultivation is very strong.”

Wen Ruohan shook his head in denial, but he knew even as he did that it wasn’t something that he could deny.

Lao Nie was strong. And now that very strength was going to take him to the end of his life – too young, too soon, even for a Nie. It was all well and good to speak of trading your future for your present, but one day the future would come calling to collect the debt that had been incurred…

“I told Nie Mingjue that we would help however we could, do whatever we could about it,” Lan Qiren said. “Both of us. I assume you do not object?”

“There isn’t anything to be done about it.” Wen Ruohan pressed his fingers to his temples, which throbbed with a sudden headache, his body already starting to express the grief his mind could not yet accept. “Do you think the Qinghe Nie hate their children? They know what inheritance they are passing to them, they know what it costs, what it will take. They all look for a way out, every one of them…if it was easy, if there was a solution, don’t you think they would have found it by now? Every generation has its geniuses. Medicine, cultivation, esoteric arts; they’ve tried them all.”

“I know. There is no guarantee of success. We can only continue to try.” Lan Qiren hesitated, his face twisting into some strange expression that Wen Ruohan couldn’t quite parse. “If you wish…I had already told you that – that I would not object, if you wished to – with Lao Nie – ”

It was unusually garbled for the typically eloquent Lan Qiren, but Wen Ruohan still got the gist.

He shook his head.

“His mood at the party was foul,” he said. “He’s not taking it well, I assume? He’s still processing the revelation himself. Right now he wouldn’t accept a kind word, much less anything else.”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“And…” Wen Ruohan grimaced. “And I don’t know if I want to, anyway.”

That took Lan Qiren by surprise, Wen Ruohan could tell. He hadn’t been expecting that.

In fairness, before he’d said it, Wen Ruohan hadn’t been expecting to say it. If a few months ago someone had come to him and told him that they could prove that Lao Nie hadn’t really meant all the ways he’d been cruel or distrusting – and even if they’d warned him that there was no way to fix it, no way to have the old Lao Nie back, back as he’d been when things had been good – then Wen Ruohan wouldn’t have hesitated to jump right back into his bed.

But that was then. That was before he’d had Lan Qiren – Lan Qiren, who wasn’t light-hearted, who didn’t take everything easily, who was serious and sober and sincere. Who’d given Wen Ruohan his heart, whole and entire; who trusted him, and had faith in him, and forgave him, even against his better instincts. Who loved him, and wasn’t afraid to tell him. Who had let Wen Ruohan change him, who hadn’t been afraid to seek to change Wen Ruohan in turn.

Lan Qiren, who’d told him with all seriousness that he had lost his mind over him.

Wen Ruohan wasn’t alone anymore. He didn’t need to be content with the scraps of Lao Nie’s inconstant heart, which in truth belonged to no one and likely would never, could never. He didn’t need to be constantly hurting himself by wanting more than he could get, and never getting even what he deserved as the man’s friend.

“The qi deviation might have been the cause of his changed behavior,” Wen Ruohan said slowly, feeling it out for himself even as he spoke. “But it still happened. He still did it. Isn’t it the same for you, what happened with the Fire Palace? Just because there was a valid explanation doesn’t change the reality of it – what happened, still happened.”

He’d been hurt by Lao Nie’s seeming disregard of him. He’d been angry, yes, his vanity offended, but…it had been another betrayal, in a lifetime full of them.

Wen Ruohan was so very tired of betrayals.

He could admit, if only to himself, that some of the incompatibility between him and Lao Nie had preceded the qi deviation. Wen Ruohan was ambitious and greedy, he couldn’t be content with only a part of a person’s heart rather than the totality of it, and Lao Nie wasn’t capable of giving him what he wanted. And Wen Ruohan wasn’t able to give Lao Nie what he wanted, which was a connection that didn’t come with jealousy or unhappiness, something to enjoy without concern, without any strings attached.

“I forgave you for the Fire Palace,” Lan Qiren protested.

“Not everyone is you,” Wen Ruohan said, and omitted to mention you’re also in love with me, so your judgment is skewed in my favor – I’ll never complain about having an unfair advantage, but I prefer to recognize when they exist. “Anyway, like I said, it’s not the time. Lao Nie has ten years, and we will help him, just as you promised Nie Mingjue. Maybe we’ll figure out some way to give him a little longer – ”

Alternatively, they could try to find a way to make him immortal.

Wen Ruohan knew that most people thought he was joking when he said that becoming a god would solve a lot of his problems, but it really would. He was already so powerful, surely he just needed a little bit more…

Anyway, that was a later problem. As was the fact that Lan Qiren was also not yet immortal, though Wen Ruohan felt very confident that he’d be able to solve that problem before it became a pressing issue.

(And once they solved the problem of Lao Nie dying, they could perhaps once again discuss the other question. Lao Nie had always been very good in bed, and Wen Ruohan would be delighted to have the chance to introduce Lan Qiren to that fact, if he were willing. But he would only invite him in as a guest, the way Lao Nie preferred, and this time he would leave his heart out of it.)

“For the moment, we need to figure out who is trying to kill us. That’s the immediate issue,” he concluded, deciding not to think further on the subject of those he loved dying when there was a more pressing practical concern, denial and postponement having always served him very well in the past. Anyway, it was relevant. After all, immortality, in the sense of not dying of old age, was all well and good, but it wouldn’t help you if someone assassinated you.

In fact, even knowing that it had happened, even having lived through it, the whole thing still seemed somehow fake to Wen Ruohan. Who would dare try to assassinate him? With actual assassins, no less. Even if he was personally weakened, he still had all his influence, all his army, all his sect behind him. Surely whoever had ordered it would know that he would take vicious reprisals against them? Why would anyone risk such a thing…?

“There should be an answer to that by now,” he added. “Should we go see what it is?”

Lan Qiren blinked owlishly at him, as if surprised. “Have you not already figured it out? It took me a little time, thinking about it, but in retrospect it seems obvious.”

Now it was Wen Ruohan’s turn to be startled. He most certainly had not figured it out.

“What,” he said, a little disbelievingly, “surely not your brother again?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said. “It was Jin Guangshan. We are going to have to go to war.”

#mdzs #wen ruohan #lan qiren #yu ziyuan #wen xu #wen chao #my fic #my fics #Megafic #just so you all know it's a (mostly) valid translation of the phrase :D

[frankencanon]

AU where the real reason why Nie Huaisang fainted at the indoctrination — and why it was never mentioned what exactly happened to him, where he went, or how he got out — is because Nie Huaisang's real reason for agreeing to go to Nightless City was so he could spy on the Wen.

Afterall, Nie Huaisang is the type of person who could stalk a bird for days straight until he was close enough to catch them by hand.

He's the type of person who doesn't get noticed, who blends in, who looks weak and unassuming, always the least threatening person in the room.

Nie Huaisang is the type of person who's smarter than he looks, who has managed to make faux fainting into an artform, who is frequently underestimated, ignored, and overlooked.

He's clever and patient and quiet.

And infiltrating the Nightless City when he's already been invited in? A walk in the park.

It's no trouble at all to wait a bit, until every single guard and servant in the palace knows just how useless and pathetic and weak and non-threatening he is, and then —

— pretend to pass out from heatstroke, be carried into medical rooms he probably shouldn't have access to, and then — when he hears about the other hostages being left for dead — dissappear.

No one notices him sneaking around, and if they do they don't think much of it — afterall, that's just weak, scared little Nie Huaisang! Look at how he cowers at every shadow! There's nothing dangerous about letting him wander around.

Why is he still here? Oh, that's right — he fainted right before the Xuanwu nighthunt, so he was left behind. There's no point in holding classes when it's just him, and he's useless in nighthunts, so Wen Chao must not've known what to do with him.

With nothing for him to do, and him being too weak and stupid to be useful, there's no harm in just leaving him to wander about aimlessly, undoubtedly scared out of his wits.

— and so Nie Huaisang is dismissed and ignored even when he is noticed, and anyone who notices him forgets about him soon after.

Combine this with how surprisingly stealthy he is, and you've got a great spy to sneak about your enemy's palace undetected, listening in on secret conversations and rummaging through confidential documents.

Who knows what he could accomplish!

Maybe he'll even moonlight as an assassin... 😏

(Watch out, Wen Ruohan... You were so worried about the older brother taking revenge, you forgot to account for the younger brother...)

---

Also, forgot to mention: I sincerely doubt whatever sword Nie Huaisang gave the Wens was his real one, considering how his father died...

(Wen Ruohan sabotaged his saber.)

(There's no way his da-ge would ever risk Wen Ruohan getting his hands on his little brother's saber after that... More likely, it's hidden away in a qiankun pouch.)

(I doubt they searched them going in — if they had, they probably would've just confiscated their swords then.)

So, he should still have his saber with him. Whether he uses it to fly away and escape, or to assassinate a certain someone... who knows?

#nie huaisang #bamf nie huaisang #bamf nhs #the untamed #cql #chen qing ling #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #mdzs fanfiction #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fic #cql fic #cql fanfic #the untamed fanfic

[rarepears]

Thanks for getting back to me! I think he certainly had a little pre-teen crush on Kakashi, he and Shisui had this 'us against the world lean on each other' mutual pining thing and Kisame was his most consistent and persistent one on one male influence in his life.

Now picture he's now a young Lan. Going about his days, he's half living his life like a vacation with his cute baby brother and half running his sect and building a pseudo spy ring/information market. (Nothing too impressive, just a few dozen informants in the other sects and spread evenly in all the red light districts between Cloud Recesses and the Nightless City)

And then he's introduced to Nie Mingjue

And Nie Mingjue is the rockin' hard bod and unshakable honesty of Kisame. The overwhelming skill and might of Kakashi and Shisui's unflinching loyalty not so much to a cause but to his loved ones.

And also the muscles. Those chiseled, glistening muscles and those cut from granite eyes and those deceptively gentle but calloused hands.

And how he treats his brother and his duties as a sect leader?

Que little Lan Zhan worriedly asking his brother if he is sick because Itachi has gone glassy eyed, flushed in the face, and breathing rapidly.

This startles Itachi who realizes he had been staring at Nie Mingjue training for the past half hour lol

Another reason as to why Itachi falls for Nie Mingjue is because Nie Mingjue is blunt, direct, honest. There's no self-guessing what Nie Mingjue really meant, no need to look for the underneath of the underneath. Nie Mingjue is predictable with how rigidly he adheres to his personal moral code and yet Itachi is still struck by just how unfiltered and honest Nie Mingjue is, even while playing sect politics. (Kisame was honest, but not that honest.)

Itachi is tired of political backstabbing and manipulation.

Also, I imagine Itachi... kind of sucks at politics. His solution to everything is murder: murder his clan to protect his brother, solve his brother's trauma by letting his brother murder him, etc. Nie Mingjue's reaction to the Wen Clan is thus *chef kiss*. Yup, just murder the whole clan - that fits right in with Itachi's personal solution to... pretty much everything. (Also, what else do you expect when this barely teenager gets through into ANBU which is an assassination squad? And then Itachi gets thrown into the Akatsuki which does a lot of killing too...)

Like yeah, sure, Itachi is a pacifist, but pacifist means something very very different in ninja terms than, well, what we have.

-o-o-o-o-

(It would be really fucking hilarious and sad if Itachi's little PTSD episode gets mistaken as him being lovestruck. Nah, it's just that Nie Mingjue sometimes does something that causes one of Itachi's old memories to pop up and Itachi gets up... not really dissociating but rather living in his memories again. For better or for worse.)

[Read more in the #imagine if itachi uchiha was reborn as lan xichen au]

#nie mingjue #gusu lan #lan wangji #lan zhan #wei wuxian #mdzs ideas #mdzs #mao dao zu shi #naruto ideas #itachi uchiha #itachi #lan xichen #imagine if itachi uchiha was reborn as lan xichen au #mxtx #naruto #manga #the untamed

[fannish-karmiya]

Something I've been thinking about for ages is how in the tale of WWX's downfall, at every turn the people in power in their society fail to treat him like an equal or do the right thing, and back him into a tighter and tighter corner as a result. And each time WWX's response escalates, because he's forced to defend himself and those under his protection and has no recourse. It directly leads to Nightless City's battle and then the siege, but at every step before then someone powerful (ie a sect leader) could have stepped in and tried to negotiate and things could have changed...and they failed to do so.

Beyond that the sect leaders all failed in their duty to ensure that the prison labour camps were administered fairly and the Wen remnants who were not war criminals were left alone in Qishan...

They failed the moment WWX stepped into that banquet at Koi Tower asking after WN's location. He told them all about how the Wen remnants were being harassed and arrested, and was only met with disdain and disparagement at every turn. No one stood up and defended him, no one stepped in and said, "Hang on, this is very concerning, didn't we agree to leave WQ's branch alone after the war? Why is Jin Zixun going and arresting a bunch of them?" They just stood by, or actively participated in disdaining WWX and saying that every Wen was guilty by association. With the sects clearly uncaring, what choice did WWX have but to go there alone and break the Wens out?

They failed to investigate the allegations of prison camp abuse and killings of prisoners after the Qiongqi Path breakout. Mianmian made those allegations herself, pointing out that of course the guards wouldn't' admit to torturing and killing prisoners, but the sects didn't want to investigate and were happy to disparage her instead.

They failed to visit WWX in the Burial Mounds themselves in order to see the prisoners he broke out and ask for his side of the story. To them he wasn't worthy of meeting with; he was a servant/disciple of the Jiang sect and even though he had defected they were still content to let JC be the only one to speak with him. Even though rumours swirled for 1-2 years that WWX was founding his own sect, no one considered it worth their time to actually visit and speak with WWX himself. It speaks to the deep classism of their society and how they viewed WWX as beneath them, and, dare I say it, that many sects did not want direct confirmation of what they already knew; that the Wens at the Burial Mounds were largely innocent and many weren't even former soldiers but women, elders and children (some of them may have been former soldiers, we never get a headcount of all 50 people, but none of them have swords any more so they are noncombatants).

After the Qiongqi Path ambush, no one cared that WWX was the target of an assassination attempt and acting in self-defense. Some even say to his face that he should not have used such force to defend himself; better that he roll over and die than kill the gentry cultivators there!

WN's loss of control was yet another excuse; who would really be surprised at a fierce corpse losing control when faced with his sister being murdered in front of him? If the sects had any honour, they would have kept to their agreement to consider the execution of the Wen siblings the end of the matter, but all they needed (and wanted) was one excuse to go forward with all-out war against WWX and exterminate the Wen sect, and the Jins gave them that by forcing WN's loss of control.

At Nightless City WWX defends his position yet again, and the sects don't listen. Inevitably, it escalates into a battle (the first blow of which was not dealt by WWX) and then the siege occurs 3 months later and the Wens are all killed. If anything, the battle at Nightless City delayed the siege; they were already there planning to attack the Burial Mounds.

WWX's actions didn't happen in a vacuum. Every step of the way, those in power chose to look aside or actively participate in injustice and treat WWX as unworthy of negotiating with, and his life and those of the Wens as less worthy than their own.

#mdzs #wwx #wen remnants

[greenhills-woodtoburn-fic]

TheAnswer had some questions in their review on "Chapter 7: Scattered like spring flowers", and we thought it would be fun to answer them here! feel free to send us in any other questions/headcanon requests :)

I wonder if you could share some meta on what are the changes to canon in this story? This seems almost like a "what are the smallest changes necessary to get to a happier ending (or - if the jianghu had more than one braincell)".

so "what are the smallest changes necessary to get a happier ending" was definitely our original premise - this entire AU actually started as a discussion about that very concept and just sort of spiralled outwards! our very first small change was Meng Yao staying at Cloud Recesses for the lectures, which we figured would butterfly-effect outwards by giving him some actual friendships, as well as a closer relationship with Huaisang and an earlier one with Xichen, and that would potentially change his priorities and situation, and then... it goes on and on. our other key premises that we started with were "what if the live action show had an unlimited budget" - and from that we hugely expanded the war section and the amount of people that exist in the jianghu, and played with the use of magic - and other other key premise was... uh... "what if there were actually a reasonable amount of women in this world, and those women actually got to be interesting characters". which was what led us to giving Yanli her handmaidens, making Mianmian a POV character, populating the side character roster with lots of women, and bringing in Qin Su much earlier in the story.

what brought Qin Su's mother here?

hopefully that's pretty clear by now ;)

Why is Lan Xichen being the distraction who's going to get captured (and not Nie Mingjue)?

this decision wound up happening because of things that we extrapolated from canon - we think that in canon Mingjue is the one who leads the infiltration to Nightless City because he is unwilling to risk other people and thus gives himself the most dangerous role. we cannot think of any other good reason why the fuck someone with minus one in stealth would decide to play assassin, unless you want to dig really deep and try and find some sort of double bluff from Meng Yao to get someone into the city to kill Wen Ruohan and Meng Yao didn't want it to be Xichen because he doesn't want Xichen to get hurt but that starts to get way too overcomplicated!!!

so if we assume that Mingjue's top priority is going to be to keep the people he loves as reasonably safe as he can - without compromising the war effort - in a universe where Mingjue a. knows Meng Yao is the spy, b. knows that Meng Yao loves Xichen and will fight and kill to keep him safe, it makes sense for him to send Xichen as the distraction, because either:

the plan goes perfectly! Xichen gets into the city and kills Wen Ruohan, and the war is over and everyone is safe

the main plan is messed up and Xichen gets captured - but he gets held in a cell and kept safe by Meng Yao until Mingjue and the rest of the Sunshot forces arrive to kill Wen Ruohan and end the war

the plan is absolutely fucked. Xichen is captured and the Sunshot forces are destroyed. in this case, the safest place for Xichen to be is with Meng Yao, who Mingjue knows would move heaven and earth to make sure Xichen survives - and if Xichen manages to escape, that means there's someone who would look after Huaisang with Mingjue gone

there's also the fact that Mingjue is literally the general leading the entire Sunshot campaign, so the idea of him not being there for the LITERAL CLIMAX OF THE ENTIRE WAR to help lead and strategise is just ????? like. from a doyalist perspective obviously it happened beause the NieYao confrontation needed to be a thing but it really makes no tactical sense!!!

#meta #part 2 #nie mingjue #lan xichen #meng yao

[songofclarity]

I feel like wrh and jgs were supposed to be the false leads for the big bad—we’re supposed to think they’re the big bad of the story but then wrh dies early on and jgs is revealed to have died at the hands of the actual big bad.

Well, they do play antagonistic roles during the arcs of the story where they are alive as they stand opposite of Wei Wuxian. But that also goes for a lot of characters.

Written off the top of my head:

Wei Wuxian at Cloud Recesses: Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan (lol kids)

Wei Wuxian at home: Yu Ziyuan

Wei Wuxian at the indoctrination camp: Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao

Wei Wuxian in the cave: big turtle

Wei Wuxian at home again: Wang Lingjiao

Wei Wuxian on the run: Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao

Wei Wuxian during the Sunshot Campaign: Qishan Wen

Wei Wuxian post-Sunshot Campaign but pre-Wen Remnants: Wei Wuxian

Wei Wuxian at the Burial Mounds: Jin Guangshan

Wei Wuxian at the pass: Jin Zixun and Wei Wuxian

Wei Wuxian at Nightless City: the cultivation world

Wei Wuxian at the Burial Mounds again: the cultivation world

A notable absence is... Wen Ruohan, and I'm curious to know when you felt like Wen Ruohan was ever an active villain in the story, much less a potential Big Bad. We saw first hand the difference between the supervisory office at Lotus Pier (Wang Lingjiao) and Yiling (Wen Qing) and why one ended up in flames and the other didn't.

If MDZS was like a classic RPG game, sure, the most powerful people, the very Sect Leaders (or their spouses!) would be the main villainous or the Big Bad of the story.

But MDZS never felt like that kind of story to me.

MDZS is a very character-driven story so the Big Bad needed to be related to Wei Wuxian in some way. We need to know and understand the character who is the opposite of Wei Wuxian. Wen Ruohan never gets involved with or even takes notice of Wei Wuxian, so he's out. Jin Guangshan responds to Wei Wuxian's actions much the same way as Wen Chao did: Wei Wuxian himself picked the initial fight with these men, not the other way around, and his folly is that he underestimated their tolerance for insult and their thin-skinned pride. Wei Wuxian swung his weight around and hit a few hornet's nets along the way. (And considering Jiang Cheng was right there, we can't say no one warned him these things might happen lol)

Jin Guangyao is the Big Bad because he became that way all on his own without Wei Wuxian's influence or interference. By the end of the Sunshot Campaign, by the time of Wei Wuxian's death, Wei Wuxian was the people's villain while Jin Guangyao was the people's hero. The children playing on the street and Wei Wuxian's narration establish this to us point-blank in the first 1/3 of the novel. Wei Wuxian admits that if he was one of those kids and had to pick a Sunshot Campaign character to play, he would ALSO want to play Jin Guangyao.

The twist is that the first time we hear about Jin Guangyao is when the children treat him as a hero, but the first time we see Jin Guangyao is when Wei Wuxian sees the mural of Jin Guangyao assassinating Wen Ruohan. And that it's Jin Guangyao's expression, and not anything to do with Wen Ruohan himself, that scares Wei Wuxian the most is very, very telling. This singular moments leaves Wen Ruohan, who never gets his face described, and Jin Guangshan, who can't hide his true face from anyone, completely and utterly in the dust. At this point we're almost 1/2 through the novel and we haven't even heard about anything Wen Ruohan has done and we haven't seen how Jin Guangshan led the march against Wei Wuxian. Those two men are just notations in the history book at this point.

So I personally don't feel like they were ever set up as potential Big Bads because our red flag on Jin Guangyao is quickly followed by another, even bigger one: Jin Guangyao has Nie Mingjue's head in his study.

#sorry if this comes off as confrontational #i'm just so tired of wrh being grouped with jgs all the time lol #anon #asked from above #mdzs thoughts

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: this body yet survives, ch. 12

Relationship: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Lán Qǐrén, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Jiāng Yànlí, Su She | Su Minshan, Madam Jin, Jin Zixuan, Wen Qing, Jiāng Fēngmián, Niè Huáisāng

Tags: No War AU, Recovery, Trauma, Dissociation, Courtship, Courting Rituals, Near Death Experiences, Attempted Murder, Eventual Happy Ending, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Siblings, Protective Siblings, Soup, Triggers, Protective Lan WangJi, Protective Lán Qǐrén, Yúnmèng Siblings Dynamics, Bad Parent Yú Zǐyuān, POV Third Person, POV Lan WangJi, reference to poisoning, reference to assassination, Reference to chronic illness, reference to infanticide, Depression

Summary: As winter approaches, a day goes awry.

Notes: See end.

Parts 1 & 2

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

AO3 link

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The Nies only stayed one more night before returning to Qinghe, though Nie Huaisang insisted he would write several letters a week to Wei Ying, letting him know there was no pressure to write back, and followed through. The next several weeks were relatively busy, with Gusu and the Cloud Recesses preparing for the onset of winter, as autumn was a short season in the mountains. 

Wei Ying received letters from both Nie Huaisang and Wen Ning in that time, and had managed to write back a few times, though once he just sent paintings. He sent a beautiful gongbi-style piece featuring Wen Ning standing tall and aiming his bow at a target, clearly a memory from the discussion conference at Nightless City. Shortly afterward, Wen-zongzhu wrote to ask about commissioning a large family portrait for display in the Fire Palace throne room, and insisting on paying ten times what Wei Ying asked. Lan Xichen happily provided a small studio where he could work, which was carefully locked with his invented talisman to prevent sabotage. Wangji took to quiet afternoons reading while Wei Ying painted, chaperoned by one of the Jiang siblings, xiongzhang, or shufu. 

To Nie Huaisang, he sent freehand shui-mo paintings and sketches of birds he’d observed in the Cloud Recesses, often done while Wangji went on chaperoned walks with him in the back hills on a small, easily carried easel he gave as a courtship gift. Wei Ying received a praise-filled letter and a beautiful Qinghe-made tapestry of two snuggling rabbits in return, which was hung in the Jiang guest house across from his bed, for later installment in the jingshi.

Wangji commissioned a beautiful cloak for Wei Ying, a blue as pale as the Lan forehead ribbons, lined with fur, with embroidered mandarin ducks flying amid the clouds, a motif of the three gentlemen of winter below at the hem in a winterscape. He presented it as a courtship gift the first cold day, when Wei Ying’s breath misted under a nose red from the chill, and was pleased when his gift was immediately put to use. 

Jiang Yanli cooed over the chosen embroidery, telling them she was certain they would have a happy marriage. Jiang Wanyin quietly told him Wei Ying was a little sensitive to cold due to his time lived on the streets, which was high praise on the timeliness of his gift and information that led him to commission a warm blanket as his next gift. 

He loved the way Wei Ying blushed prettily upon receiving these gifts, the way he stuttered a little for several minutes, and knew this was what had led his zhiji, during the lectures, to tease him for the reaction. Part of him regretted not having given him the attention he deserved back then, but he could not turn back time, simply move forward appropriately. 

Wei Ying’s courtship gifts to Wangji included beautiful paintings, to his delight, and literature and poetry he ordered special from the bookstore in Caiyi. The choices displayed his impeccable taste and often included books of romantic poetry. One gift he particularly loved was a tiny duo of wooden rabbits, carved by Wei Ying in spectacular detail, which he kept on his desk in the jingshi, where he could enjoy it while he worked. 

Wei Ying’s siblings, with the help of Nie Huaisang’s urging via letters, convinced him that staying with them until the wedding was the best course of action, and then he would be safe in the jingshi with Wangji. 

It was a good thing they had. 

When they went to retrieve the rest of his belongings from his old quarters one afternoon, the doors sealed behind them, locked with Wei Ying’s talisman used as a tool of imprisonment, and the sound of snarling dogs filled the room. 

Wei Ying climbed into the rafters immediately, managing to leave grooves with his fingernails in the woodwork in his haste, his pupils blown in terror. Though they eventually found and disabled the talisman responsible for the sound under the bed, it took another ke to coax him down. He was almost catatonic, and Wangji started to consider using Bichen to fly up and carry him down. 

Finally, he seemed to come back to himself, his eyes clearing as they landed on Wangji. His only warning was “catch me?” murmured so softly he nearly missed it. Then Wei Ying let himself fall from the rafters, arms open, trusting him, and he did as bidden, pulling him close and cradling him when he landed safely in his arms. 

“You caught me,” Wei Ying whispered tremulously. 

“Mm. I will always catch Wei Ying,” he assured him, keeping his touch gentle as he helped him sit, though inside he was raging at the person who would do something so vile. 

Wei Ying trembled terribly and didn’t seem able to stop, clearly needing time to recover from the scare, so they wrapped him first in his warm winter cloak, which he had hung over a privacy screen upon entering his former quarters, and then in the blanket from the bed—for comfort rather than cold. He was wan, his skin clammy, a sheen of sweat on his upper lip, and when Wangji checked his pulse it seemed a bit irregular, so it was better he rest until they could get him to a healer. Jiang Yanli sat with him at the table and straightened his headband, which had gone askew on his forehead in the tumult, tutting over him. 

Meanwhile Wangji and Jiang Wanyin tried to troubleshoot a way out. Or, rather, one that didn’t involve brute force and trigger the backlash. Wangji knew there had to be a way, but Wei Ying was still shaking, his eyes distant. 

Just as they were debating who would trigger the backlash and be gifted blue hair—each specifically arguing to be the one—Wei Ying spoke.

“I didn’t make it for this,” he murmured, sounding both dazed and affronted at the way his locking talisman had been misused. “It has a failsafe, though—Lan Xichen and Lan-xiansheng know it.”

Wei Ying pulled a piece of talisman paper from his sleeve, and Wangji quickly brought over an inkstone and brush from his desk before he could use blood to write it. Wei Ying’s fingernails were cracked and bleeding, imbedded with splinters of wood, and Jiang Yanli made a noise of distress upon seeing them. Wangji forced himself to quash the desire to tend to them immediately, telling himself Wei Ying would benefit more from a healer and not being trapped. He could sense Jiang Wanyin tensing beside him when he noticed, possibly warring with the same urge. 

He took the talisman when it was complete, not wanting Wei Ying to use his spiritual energy before a healer cleared him. The handwriting was shaky enough for concern. 

The door unsealed when he applied the talisman, and Wei Ying told them to keep the disabled locking talisman so it could be examined. 

Wangji wished they hadn’t destroyed the talisman responsible for the barking so it could be examined as well, but at the time they had been more concerned with Wei Ying’s terror. 

“The locking talisman should be keyed to the culprit’s qi,” Wei Ying murmured to him as he moved to help him stand. “I’ll have to figure out how to trace it.”

“You don’t have to figure out anything,” Jiang Wanyin told him roughly. “Let others take responsibility.”

Wei Ying wasn’t able to stay steady on his feet, and it was decided Wangji would carry him to the infirmary, escorted by Jiang Yanli, while Jiang Wanyin sealed his quarters and took the disabled locking talisman to xiongzhang and shufu. Moving the rest of his possessions to the Jiangs’ quarters would have to wait until the healers cleared him, and until his quarters had been searched more thoroughly. Jiang Yanli carried Wei Ying’s sword, which he had dropped in his scramble to the rafters. 

The healer on duty immediately brought them back to the same room Wei Ying had spent the night in after the lotus incident, and Wangji knew they had likely called for bedding again, with the knowledge the Jiang siblings would never leave him to be alone; he hoped they had accounted for his similar intent. She lit incense, the scent of sandalwood filling the air, before examining Wei Ying, who was still shaking intermittently, tiny tremors, almost like muscle spasms. 

“You’ve had a panic attack, Wei-gongzi, but it has not disrupted your qi or core,” she said when she had finished, looking at them for further explanation. 

Jiang Yanli explained quickly, and the healer’s jaw clenched, showing her anger at the continued targeting of Wei Ying, something he appreciated wholeheartedly. He tightened his grip on Bichen, letting the way the decorative metal patterns bit into the skin, imagining the what punishments could be meted out against the person who had, again, targeted Wei Ying. 

“They couldn’t have gotten in once we locked it up,” Wei Ying murmured once Jiang Yanli trailed off, “so it’s been there, waiting for me to come back and trigger it, since the initial sabotage.”

Wangji blinked at him; even just having had a panic attack and still recovering from the aftermath, Wei Ying’s genius shined, and he had already made a significant observation, the logical progression of thought flying through him. His beloved’s mind was a wonder. 

“It’s a good thing you’re not going back there, then,” Jiang Yanli said decisively. “A-Cheng and I will retrieve your belongings and make sure there aren’t any other surprises.”

It was a testament to how shaken he was that Wei Ying made no effort to argue, only nodding in agreement. His uncharacteristic pliability reminded Wangji of the Wei Ying of not too long ago, subdued in a way Wei Ying should never be, unreachable. The understanding that Wei Ying’s condition could worsen again terrified Wangji. 

The healer left the room and returned with a tray of medicine, servants trailing after her with piles of bedding—three, Wangji was happy to see—and several chairs, as it was hours yet before hai shi. This also made it clear she wanted to keep him for observation. 

She closed the door when the servants left, then offered him a bowl of medicine. 

“Wei-gongzi, this is a slight sedative, which will relax your muscles and ease some of the effects of the panic attack. It may make you a bit sleepy, but the aftermath of the shock will likely do the same anyway,” the healer said, giving him a choice rather than insisting he take it.

Wangji didn’t know whether she was giving him the option to refuse it because his condition was less severe, or if the choice was meant to let Wei Ying feel in control following a violation of his sense of safety. Either way, he appreciated her not removing his agency. 

Wei Ying didn’t hesitate to take the bowl, which indicated just how poorly he felt. Wangji had to force himself to take measured breaths, seething at how little he could do to help in this moment. 

When he was finished, the healer set the bowl aside and turned her attention to his hands, spreading a topical numbing agent over the tips of his fingers before carefully pulling bits of wood from under his nails and the pads of his fingers. Once she was satisfied all the splinters had been removed, she spread a salve on them and bandaged them.

“They’ll be healed by tomorrow,” Wei Ying protested as she finished bandaging the first finger.

“That may be, but until then, bandages,” she said sternly.

“It’s important we properly care for your injuries, A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli added, sitting beside him on the bed and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

Wei Ying put up no further resistance, and as the healer was halfway through his second hand, a soft knock at the door announced the arrival of Jiang Wanyin, who had both xiongzhang and shufu in tow. 

Xichen blanched a bit as he walked in, his eyes alighting on the healer bandaging Wei Ying’s mangled fingers, and he and shufu bowed to them once the door was closed.

“Wei-gongzi, we truly apologize,” Lan Qiren stated, sounding ashamed.

“Ah, don’t bow, please! It’s not your fault,” Wei Ying said, sounding a little frantic and waving the hand that wasn’t in possession of the healer.

“You were targeted again on our watch,” xiongzhang said, his voice tight with frustration. 

“It isn’t a new attack, just a trap left behind the first time. They couldn’t have gotten in again with the locking talisman engaged,” Wei Ying insisted. “And anyway I wasn’t alone.”

Some of the tension seemed to leave Xichen at that, but shufu shook his head. 

“We were tasked with searching your room to discover if anything further had been sabotaged,” Lan Qiren argued. “We were derelict in our duty to you.”

“Something triggered it. If you didn’t trigger it, I’m not surprised you didn’t find it,” Wei Ying said.

Wangji could see Wei Ying’s fatigue, and so when the healer vacated the seat beside him after finishing the bandaging, he slid in to take it, as well as Wei Ying’s hand, hoping the gesture would comfort him. If he could not fight the person causing Wei Ying pain, he could at least do this. 

“I don’t want to assign blame,” Wei Ying said after a moment, squeezing Wangji’s hand slightly. “It’s the fault of the asshole who set it up, no one else.”

He glanced at his siblings as he said the last bit, and Wangji knew he was reiterating what he had said to them on multiple occasions, particularly after it became clear that both of the Jiang siblings were wracked with guilt over having not done something before the incident to stop Madam Yu, as though they weren’t also abused, as though they hadn’t been children without sufficient power. 

“I think we’re all more interested in finding the culprit,” Jiang Yanli cut in softly. “We don’t apologize for things that aren’t our fault.”

Shufu inclined his head and nodded in acknowledgment, but Wangji knew his uncle’s sense of guilt would remain—he, too, blamed himself for not somehow knowing of Wei Ying’s abuse. 

“The talisman master is searching in the library for a way to identify the qi signature,” xiongzhang said. “It may well not exist yet, but he’s hoping to find ideas in existing material.”

“I can help him,” Wei Ying offered immediately. 

Lan Qiren shook his head. 

“You must rest, Wei Wuxian. Your recovery is what you should focus on.”

His tone brooked no argument, and Wangji knew he was referring to more than just tonight—Wei Ying was still recovering from his near death, at least psychologically. Wangji knew the healers kept an eye on his scars, which had threatened muscles needed for sword forms. He was still monitored when he trained or sparred. The damage would have been worse if not for Wen Qing’s treatment and the use of Gusu Lan songs of healing. A lesser cultivator would have died from just the whipping, to say nothing of the drowning. 

Wei Ying only nodded, and his expression was heart-wrenching, as he tried and failed to hide the sheer frustration with his own health. 

“Do not push yourself, Wei-gongzi,” xiongzhang said softly. “Your health is important.”

Wangji squeezed his hand to indicate his agreement with that sentiment, and was pleased when Wei Ying glanced at him and managed a wan smile—one that was meant to be reassuring, as tremulous as it was. 

“Wei Ying looks tired,” he murmured. “I will not leave.”

Wei Ying simply nodded in reply, curling closer to him, his head on the edge of his pillow and forehead against Wangji’s arm, a request for closeness he could not deny. 

Pointedly not looking at the multiple chaperones in the room, he sat on the bed and helped Wei Ying shift until he was curled against him, his head resting against his shoulder. It was decidedly less than proper, but his beloved needed the closeness.

No one commented, hopefully realizing Wei Ying’s comfort was more important in this instance, particularly since he was already nodding off. Rather, Jiang Yanli wrapped a blanket around them both. 

“We can have dinner sent here from the kitchen,” xiongzhang offered.

“I have soup cooking,” Jiang Yanli said, shaking her head. “And other parts of the meal are in progress. I just paused to help clear out A-Xian’s room with him.”

Shufu stroked his beard, then sighed and cut through to the easiest solution. 

“I can stay here to chaperone, so Jiang Yanli and Jiang Wanyin can finish preparing dinner to bring here. Xichen, it may be best if you retrieve Wangji’s qin and anything else he will need for the night. If the Jiangs need help bringing dinner and other sundries, you should assist them as well.”

Jiang Wanyin headed for the door immediately, likely wanting to work quickly so they could return to Wei Ying’s side sooner. Jiang Yanli hesitated, leaning close to Wei Ying, peering around the blanket to check on him and smiling when she found he was asleep before following her brother out. Xiongzhang asked him what items he wanted from the jingshi—whose lock talisman would recognize him, thankfully. 

Wangji was able to give a brief list, as circumstances would change his nightly routine—general hygiene items, his comb and hair oil, a sleeping robe, and fresh robes for the morning. Aside from his guqin, he needed little else.

Though he was still holding Wei Ying in a manner that was inappropriate for courtship, shufu made no move to separate them, instead settling in a chair and pulling his xiao from his sleeve. 

“We will consult an augur on suitable dates, once this is resolved,” he said. 

This left Wangji reeling; courtships often lasted a year or two, and the implication of consulting now meant a shorter troth, perhaps could imply Wei Ying as undeserving of proper courtship. 

“The setting of an auspicious date a year into the future is not unheard of, and will solidify Wei Wuxian’s position to the world,” shufu explained. “It cannot help us with finding the traitor in our midst, but will further protect his reputation.”

Particularly if word got out that Wei Ying had been targeted from within the sect, it would stir rumors and gossip about how protected or welcome he was, Wangji knew. But announcing an auspicious date and dealing with the saboteur firmly for their crimes would counter those strongly. 

Politics was not something Wangji understood or would ever want to deal with, and he was thankful that shufu was managing that aspect in the protection of Wei Ying. 

Wei Ying, who slept trusting in their protection in his arms now, his face slack and peaceful despite the terror he’d felt half a shichen ago and the painful-looking torn nails. 

Wangji did not trust himself not to tear the culprit limb from limb for hurting Wei Ying, and so it was good shufu would handle that as well. 

“Regardless of the current situation, it is beyond time to set a date, with the way both of you have been unknowingly courting since you were fifteen,” shufu said, his voice wry.

Wangji felt his ears heat, to know shufu knew of his regard for Wei Ying so far back. Lan Qiren smiled at him as though pointing at how he was currently holding Wei Ying, and he supposed he wasn’t subtle, even now drawn to his zhiji. 

“If someone had told me back then I would happily welcome him as your husband, I would have thought them mad,” shufu continued, his voice betraying his sense of guilt. “Cangse Sanren would be pleased with the change, I think, but not what it took for it to happen.”

He was relieved his uncle, essentially the only remaining parental figure in his life, had come to approve of Wei Ying, but also wished it had not taken his near-death. Wangji wished it had never happened, that Wei Ying could be unburdened by the trauma of it. 

“Wei Ying hides his hurts,” he said, though he knew Lan Qiren’s sense of guilt was unlikely to be swayed. 

After all, it didn’t help his own sense of guilt, even knowing he could not have been aware of the pain Wei Ying’s smile hid. 

“I was biased toward him because I was not fond of his mother,” Lan Qiren said. “My judgment of him was a flaw in myself.”

Shufu brought his xiao to his lips and started playing a song of healing, one meant to boost qi to heal injuries faster, and one that had been played many times during Wei Ying’s convalescence when he had first arrived in Gusu so grievously injured. 

Strictly speaking, it was unnecessary given that his injuries were not nearly severe enough to warrant musical cultivation. But Wangji knew shufu’s actions were an attempt to ensure Wei Ying’s pain was as brief as possible, were his way of doing something in the face of helplessness and impotence. 

Then he shifted into Clarity, and Wangji felt the rage-induced tension in himself, the way it seethed in an uncomfortable way under his skin, and he let in the music to help clear his heart and mind of it. This was shufu’s way of acknowledging and empathizing with his anger, while also encouraging him to have a level head. He couldn’t protect Wei Ying effectively with rage clouding his judgment. 

They could only wait now—for the Jiangs to return with dinner and xiongzhang with Wangji’s belongings, for the talisman master to find a way to trace qi, for the ability to root out the saboteur and make Wei Ying safe. 

Wangji hated waiting, but at least he was permitted to do so with Wei Ying in his arms, breathing softly and safe against him, as safe as possible in this moment. 

-------------

Gongbi is a style of painting that is meticulous and detailed, and likely would have taken hours. You can imagine he started painting it after Wen Qing’s visit, meaning to send it as a sort of apology. Shui-mo is literally water and ink and refers to an ink painting with watercolor. These are the two main techniques in traditional Chinese painting. 

On a personal note, my luck finally ran out after over 2 years of careful masking and hygiene, and I caught Covid. Worse, my mom came to visit me for my 39th birthday and one of her gifts was Covid. At first I thought it was hayfever, but it kept getting worse. Home test confirmed we were both infected. I hadn’t had my second booster yet, and the new variants are supposedly dodging the antibodies somehow. 

Fortunately, it stayed an upper respiratory infection and I was able to keep it from going into my lungs—something I was worried about because I have chronic bronchitis. (One of my risk factors.) But it was miserable. The last time I got that sick was after my dad’s sudden death when my immune system crashed and I got (shocker) bronchitis. But seriously, feeling like you’re swallowing broken glass sucks. 

It’s been 3 weeks and I’m still exhausted, but it’s hard to know if that’s residual from the covid or if the covid triggered my autoimmune disease to act up more than usual. Since a friend from high school has diagnosed long Covid, I’m keeping track to see if I need to go to the doctor over it. 

And don’t get me started about waking up to find I have less bodily autonomy than a corpse.

#the untamed #untamed fanfiction #untamed fanfic #untamed fic #wei ying #wei wuxian #lan wangji #lan zhan #wangxian #jiang yanli #jiang wanyin #jiang cheng #lan xichen #lan qiren #cql #chen qing ling #cql fanfic #cql fanfiction #cql fic #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #mdzs fic #my fanfiction

[commanderterrashock]

Dimension Crisis Characters Photos

Main Antagonist/Main Protagonist

Alliance of Evil/Alliance of Good Members

(Rose/Huntsgirl & Wu Zetian/Assassin of the Nightless City/Assassin)

#crossover fanfiction #fanfiction #crossover #villain #heroes #alliance of good #alliance of evil

[fistfuloflightning]

If you don't mind, would you talk a bit more about RuoQing? I've been thinking about it since I saw your post but they're so rare. :'(

Ooooh I love me some info dumping :D

Watch out ahead: wonky timelines and headcanons galore!

Note: I’ve always headcanoned Wen Qing as older than the main cast, about five years or so. A few years younger than Wen Xu but much older than Wen Chao. So she’d be about 22-24 during the Gusu lectures and thus about 30 by the end of the war (which for this au lasts 5years)

I mentioned in an earlier post that they likely knew each other when she was younger, since he was close to her family and her father. Several years of separation after her father dies and the Dafan Wen remain in mourning until she comes to Nightless City in her late teens. Her sharp intellect and talent catch Wen Ruohan’s attention and he starts bringing her to conferences and discussions. Somewhere along the way they grow closer, an almost friendship, with Wen Qing accompanying him to banquets and spearheading his research into medicine and golden cores (how Wen Qing is able to back her medical experience later, and to apply it in emergencies coughweiwuxiancough)

This is book verse, so no Yin Iron to hunt down during the Gusu lectures. (…pretty sure, idk my memories of the book are hazy) There’s about 2 years between the lectures and the beginning of the war, and they finally get together during that timeframe.

Wen Qing asks not to be acknowledged as Madam Wen due to her preference of anonymity, only doubly so when she finds herself pregnant two years into the war. The less people who know about her status and Wen Ruohan’s child the better. While he doesn’t fear assassination or back-stabbing, she does. He’s lost two sons already, and his third they keep hidden away. It’s a small little paradise for them in the middle of all the blood and death. But when their son is three, the war ends with his father’s death and the remaining main branch Wens are wiped out. The side branch Wens are herded into the Jin labor camps. It’s at that point that Wen Qing spreads the story that Wen Ruohan’s last son is dead, and she gives the toddler a new name, a new identity, and places him in the care of her old nurse. He is now Wen Yuan and he’s the son of a distant cousin. Ironically true, but there can’t be any tie connecting him to her, no matter how delicate. It’s the only way she can ensure that he survives this hell. Because if anyone knew he was Wen Ruohan’s son the other sects would tear him to pieces before her eyes.

The peaceful days in Yiling aren’t meant to last and driven by the desperation to keep the Wen remnant and her son safe, Wen Qing leaves Wen Yuan in Wei Wuxian’s keeping and sacrifices herself. It is only almost twenty years later that Wen Ning finally divulges the full story to his nephew.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

#pardon the word vomit #but I’ve been loving this ship #it has the right amount of angst and pain and sadness #thanks for the ask! #its honestly super fun to share this 😊 #mdzs #ruoqing #wen qing #wen ruohan #wen yuan #lan sizhui #asks #thinky thoughts #fic ideas

[robininthelabyrinth]

The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 22

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

———————————————————————-

Wen Ruohan woke up groggy and disoriented.

This did not come as a surprise, as it was not particularly unusual for him: a hundred years and more, infinitely powerful cultivation, and somehow he’d still never quite gotten the hang of mornings. Once he’d become accustomed to sharing his bed with Lan Qiren, who like the rest of his sect preferred to rise at inhumane hours, the other man had routinely been able to get up, go about his morning ablutions, go outside to train, and come back to bed before Wen Ruohan even twitched his fingers in the direction of his clothing.

Not that he usually needed to get up early, of course. That was one of the many benefits of power: the Nightless City might never sleep, but it only really got going when he did. Lan Qiren had remarked several times that he found it unusual that the quietest hours in the day were the early morning, as those were often the hours most generally preferred for chores, until eventually Wen Ruohan had taken pity on him and explained that his servants and disciples had judged it better to do their chores at an hour before they risked waking up their irritable sect leader.

(“Ah, yes,” Lan Qiren had said, nodding. “I had a similar experience when my nephews were toddlers.”

“…toddlers.”

“Yes, they got terribly cranky when anything disturbed their naps. I would always refrain from doing anything too loud during that time of the day.”

“I don’t think I appreciate your comparison.”

“Comparison? I was conveying that I understood – ”

“That was a comparison, and you know it.”

“...perhaps. Truly a strange and inexplicable parallel. Perhaps even an opportunity for you to learn some form of lesson…?”

“Not in the slightest. Clearly I’ll just have to put more effort into making sure you don’t see me as a child. Perhaps something more adult instead.…?”

“Again? Already? It’s not that I object, of course, but sometimes you genuinely make me wonder: do you have no other hobbies?”)

The memory made Wen Ruohan want to laugh.

He opened his eyes, and found, to his puzzlement, that he was not in his own bed, neither alone nor (preferably) with a warm and energetic Lan Qiren coming in straight after his exercise, but rather in his favorite sickroom.

Most people would not be able to say that they had a particular preference in sickrooms, but in this, as in many ways, his Qishan Wen sect was different. His sect had been founded by a surgeon (who’d also been an assassin and a warlord, as the situation required – those needles of Wen Mao’s had been put to any number of purposes, a practicality his descendants had whole-heartedly embraced), and as a result, they had always prided themselves on their medical skills. Naturally, the Nightless City’s sickrooms ought to reflect that pride, which they did in both quality and in sheer multitudinous quantity.

The rooms were always well-equipped, well-staffed, and well-tended to, as befit a sect with their inheritance. His Wen sect disciples had even taken to dividing them up by type of illness: one reserved for people suffering from physical harms such as broken bones or sword cuts, another specializing in treating diseases, a third for cultivation problems…

Wen Ruohan was currently in the one fondly and universally known as the “you fucked up” room.

It was a large room, having at some point in the past been meant to be a warehouse, but it had been filled with room dividers to create the illusion of smaller spaces. Each little nook was supplied with a standard-issue cot, a blanket enhanced with warming talismans and a pillow similarly made to be cooling, a slate at the end of the bed for doctors’ instructions, and little else. This room specialized neither in a particular type of injury nor a particular type of cure, and neither did it make any differentiation between injuries unique to cultivators or more commonplace sorts that anyone could suffer.

It had a singular focus, which was to say, it catered exclusively to people who’d caused their own malady through stupidity.

To be more specific, it was reserved for people who’d hurt themselves through excessive over-exertion, which was commonly regarded as an offshoot of idiocy. Strained muscles, overworked meridians, twisted ankles, emptied dantians…even those scholars who developed headaches from reading too much in poor light, it didn’t matter; they all ended up here. A doctor would look them over, snort in disdain (a requisite and much-enjoyed part of the treatment), and order them to stay, rest, and recuperate, which usually translated to being confined to rest for a given length of time, typically marked out in chalk on the slate that hung over their cot. The room was patrolled by junior disciples still learning the way of medicine, most of them at the stage where they had more enthusiasm than skill, and they were all licensed to meet any attempts to escape prematurely with paralyzing needles, jabbed in as hard as their black little hearts desired.

Wen Ruohan remembered the place fondly.

He’d once been a very frequent visitor, in fact, back when he’d been constantly experimenting – he couldn’t quite now remember when he’d stopped, or why, but it had always been enjoyable. After he’d become sect leader, the senior doctors had used his visits as a means of teasing their juniors. They would archly insist that there was no choice but to follow the iron-clad traditions of the room, without exception, even if the patient was their terrifying sect leader, and eventually one unlucky or suicidally brave junior would be tasked with placing and enforcing the chalk marker beside his bed. Not that Wen Ruohan ever listened, of course, since naturally very few of them really dared to try to jab him (and he just shrugged off the few that did). As fun as tormenting the junior generation was, he simply had too much to do…

Ugh, speaking of which, he was probably falling behind even now. Wen Ruohan squeezed his eyes shut with a groan. He didn’t even remember what he’d been experimenting with to cause him to end up here, but it didn’t really matter. He couldn’t linger. He was the sect leader, there was always something to do.

He mentally reached for the running list of tasks he invariably kept in the back of his head – and then frowned, coming up empty. He couldn’t think of what he had planned to do today. Had his secretaries failed to bring him his schedule the night before? Had he injured himself sufficiently badly that he’d simply forgotten it all, somehow?

What had he been doing last that had led him to come here, anyway…?

Wen Ruohan’s eyes abruptly flew open: Xixiang. The mountain. Lan Qiren!

He sat up in the bed at once, ignoring the sudden rush of vertigo with an effort of will. He remembered Cangse Sanren standing beside him, telling him that he’d blown out all his spiritual energy, but also that she was having people search for Lan Qiren, who had last been seen going to see his brother – had they been found? What state was he in?

Wen Ruohan was in his favorite sickroom, which meant he was in the Nightless City. Hadn’t he last been in Xixiang? How had he even gotten here?

How long had he been unconscious?!

The chalk marker in the room was unhelpfully blank, and the room itself was oddly empty, so there was no one to ask. Overusing one’s qi didn’t usually result in unconsciousness that lasted longer than a few days at most, but Wen Ruohan had always been extraordinary, so he didn’t dare make any assumptions. He got up out of bed – then staggered, unhelpfully, but righted himself with an effort and a hand on the wall – and made his way to the main door of the sickroom, pushing it open to break the binding of the sound-proofing spell so that he could try to find Lan Qiren by listening for the sound of his voice, however futile –

Oh.

There he was.

“How can that possibly be your first solution to the problem?!” Lan Qiren was saying…no, that wasn’t quite right. He was bellowing, in fact, and from somewhere not far away; Wen Ruohan thought he might have been able to hear it even without sharpening his hearing to try to find him. Lan Qiren’s voice rang loud and clear, immediately identifiable, as welcome as the sound of a rooster crowing in the dawn after a night-hunt gone wrong.

He sounded fine.

He might not be fine – as if being “fine” were possible, given that Lan Qiren had successively suffered the Fire Palace, the shock of realizing what his brother was doing, and then his brother himself – but he sounded fine, or at least uninjured, unharmed, alive…

Wen Ruohan arranged his clothing and ignored how sore he somehow still was in favor of following the sound of yelling.

“I cannot believe that any reasonable person would think that to be an appropriate proposal. It doesn’t even fix the actual underlying issue. It barely even postpones it! I cannot believe…no. No, no, no. Simply no. Denied.”

A fainter murmur, some unimportant person that Wen Ruohan didn’t care about saying something in response.

“This is me trying to keep an open mind!”

The noise turned out to be coming from the Wen sect’s receiving hall, where Wen Ruohan usually sat in the main seat and received petitioners, including his subordinates, or else visitors. It was used exclusively for sect business. It seemed to be full, which puzzled Wen Ruohan briefly: what sect business could there possibly be happening right now, with him not there…?

He let himself in through the back, managing to avoid notice only by virtue of the fact that everyone inside the room was looking at Lan Qiren.

Wen Ruohan was looking, too. Lan Qiren – one side of his face was badly bruised, with a black eye that definitely hadn’t been there before, and a bandage was tied high on one of his arms, binding both upper arm and shoulder. As injuries went, it wasn’t too bad, and the colors on his face suggested that he was already well along the path of healing, that extremely pure golden core of his already ameliorating the worst of it. It certainly didn’t seem to be slowing him down in any way.

On the contrary, Lan Qiren seemed to be in particularly fine form today, with an especially fierce scowl and face red enough that he looked on the verge of trying to breathe fire. Oddly enough, he was seated on the main seat, where Wen Ruohan usually sat, glaring down at the usual run of petitioners and high-ranking Wen sect subordinates as if he wanted to order them all away – wait.

Wait.

Was Lan Qiren attempting to deal with sect business? With Wen sect business? Was that what was going on now?

It was.

Wen Ruohan felt a sudden surge of tremendous fondness fill his chest, making him feel warm. He could see Cangse Sanren perched on the floor next to the main seat with a gigantic shit-eating grin on her face, looking for all the world like a vulture watching its next meal struggling to its death right in front of its eyes for its amusement, dinner and a show combined. That explained an awful lot: Wen Ruohan distinctly remembered having mentioned to her, in a fit of bitter pique, that in the event of his untimely death, Lan Qiren’s status entitled him to the right to rule the Wen sect as his widow.

Cangse Sanren was the sort of person to find the idea sufficiently funny that she’d encourage Lan Qiren to do it while Wen Ruohan was merely incapacitated, and Lan Qiren sufficiently duty-abiding that he’d assume he had no choice but to agree, even if he didn’t think himself fit for the role. And thus, presumably, they had ended up here.

Wen Ruohan couldn’t blame Cangse Sanren one bit, though. This was hilarious.

Poor Lan Qiren. Ten years of leading the virtuous (or, well, mostly virtuous) Lan sect had clearly not prepared him in the slightest for what he was dealing with in the Nightless City.

Not that he was doing badly.

In fact, he’d even apparently somehow managed to deal with Wen Ruohan’s wives, which in the normal run of things Wen Ruohan would have assumed to be his biggest problems. However, instead of jockeying for position or fighting Lan Qiren for the right to lead, they were contentedly in their usual positions for the rare times they attended to matters of sect management.

Practically, this meant that Lu Qipei was putting on a show of pretending to supervise but mostly just displaying herself to best effect to win the admiration or envy of the female disciples in the audience, wearing something that was no doubt going to be the peak of fashion in another month or two once everyone copied her look, while Shen Mingbi…well, Shen Mingbi was currently preoccupied smiling at a man wearing the insignia of a Fire Palace guard and a face that for whatever reason vaguely reminded Wen Ruohan of Lan Xichen, while he in turn ignored the ongoing proceedings in favor of smiling back.

Ugh. Not another one! How had Wen Ruohan managed to marry women with such poor taste?

At least Lan Qiren didn’t have that problem.

“Go back and think once more on the issue and how to solve it, then bring me a proposal that does not include threats, blackmail or gross negligence of your duty as a cultivator and, for that matter, as a human being,” Lan Qiren said crossly to one of Wen Ruohan’s lieutenants, who looked abashed. He was presumably the one who’d presented the idea that had so raised Lan Qiren’s ire. “In deference to the customs of your sect, I am not excluding the options of using bribery, petty theft, and crimes at around that level – ”

Wen Ruohan choked down another laugh.

This was amazing. He’d have to find a way to reward Cangse Sanren for having thought of it.

“ – but you have to at least start with something remotely palatable. To human beings. Yes, even human beings of the Qishan Wen sect. Am I understood?”

He was.

“Good. Dismissed. Who’s next?”

There was then a brief silence, during which Wen Ruohan’s very brave Wen sect disciples looked at each other with expressions suggesting that they’d rather volunteer for the Fire Palace than volunteer to become the target of Lan Qiren’s attention and Wen Ruohan himself continued to try his absolute best not to laugh audibly. This was far too funny to interrupt.

Eventually, someone cleared their throat and stepped forward – it was Wen Yingjiu, Wen Ruohan’s hapless nominal head disciple. Presumably he’d been pushed forward as a sacrificial lamb by his peers.

“A gift has arrived for Sect Leader Wen from Lanling Jin.”

Oddly enough, that made Lan Qiren snort in what sounded like audible disdain.

“I see,” he said, with what sounded almost like a sneer. “I take it that Sect Leader Jin has received my letter indicating my displeasure regarding his sect’s participation in framing our Wen sect and that he is now trying to go above my head. Is that it?”

Our Wen sect.

Wen Ruohan felt a delightful little shiver of pleasure to hear Lan Qiren call it that. That was as it ought to be, of course – they were married, and Lan Qiren’s marriage vows meant that he rightfully ought to treat his new sect as if it were his own – and of course Lan Qiren was never improper in public, not even when Wen Ruohan occasionally wanted him to be.

He wasn’t foolish enough to think that it meant that Lan Qiren had forgiven Wen Ruohan, or that he was willing to stay voluntarily, or really anything at all. It didn’t signify anything other than the fact that Lan Qiren had good manners and an overactive sense of duty and the sense to preserve face. And yet – and still –

Our Wen sect.

Wen Ruohan liked that.

“I cannot say, Senior Lan. But it is a princely gift: a rare saber from the northwest region,” Wen Yingjiu said, his tone appropriately respectful. Presumably he’d decided to err against calling Lan Qiren “Madam Wen”, which was probably the right move, even if the alternative would have been much funnier. Wen Yingjiu had always had a decent sense of self-preservation, one that outweighed even ambition. “The messenger who delivered it insisted that the Sect Leader would enjoy having it in his possession. The saber is said to be of surpassingly fine quality, beyond anything that can be made in our present cultivation world.”

“Is it really?” Wen Ruohan said, unable to keep from speaking up. He’d always enjoyed receiving high-quality gifts, even when they were obviously meant to be bribes – all good things ought to belong to him, after all, and he wasn’t too picky about how he got them. So what if it was a bribe? Even if he accepted it, nothing was stopping him from betraying the person who’d sent it later on. And since both he and the person trying to bribe him knew that, one could scarcely even call it unethical. “I’m not sure what the Nie sect would have to say about that. How does it compare to theirs?”

The sound of his voice was like dropping a rock into a still pond, the effects of it rippling outwards in waves: everyone turned at once to look at him once they heard it, rows of heads all moving one after the other. Even Lan Qiren, seated up at the main seat, twisted himself to look in Wen Ruohan’s direction, and as he did some strange emotion flickered over his face, only visible for a moment. Wen Ruohan couldn’t quite distinguish what it meant.

“I cannot say, Sect Leader,” Wen Yingjiu said, saluting him at once. He seemed relieved to see him, which said something either about his loyalty or, more likely, Lan Qiren’s ferocity. “The messenger from Lanling Jin sang its praises, and from my humble appraisal, I would agree that it seems to be exceedingly well-made.”

Wen Yingjiu was head disciple of the Wen sect and possessed perfect recall, which meant that he had a pretty good sense of judgment as to what made a good weapon. That meant the saber probably really was exceptional – one of those wonders that were sufficiently impressive that even the ridiculously wealthy Lanling Jin thought them worth keeping in their treasure room. It had probably pained Jin Guangshan immensely to part with it.

“How nice,” Wen Ruohan said, smirk curving his lips as he thought about Jin Guangshan squirming in discomfort but ultimately giving in to reality, knowing that he needed to appease Wen Ruohan’s anger. “Perhaps we should invite Lao Nie over to see which one is the better.”

He was only speaking lightly, thoughtlessly saying what he would have normally said as if nothing had changed, but he had reason to regret it the second it came out of his mouth: the room went completely silent, and Lan Qiren’s face abruptly froze over into complete neutrality.

Wen Ruohan wanted to smack himself. Was he some novice at politics, not to realize that he’d inadvertently implied that he might be willing to accept Jin Guangshan’s bribe and override the expression of disapproval that Lan Qiren had sent out in their sect’s name, in his name? Accepting the gift suggested that he would be willing to cast aside Lan Qiren’s hard work on his behalf, to put someone else’s word over his yet again – a subtle but effective way to put Lan Qiren back in his place, as Jin Guangshan had laughed to him during the discussion conference.

It was certainly not a good way to start making things up with Lan Qiren.

Wen Ruohan immediately wanted to take back his words, but he didn’t know how. Showing weakness in front of so many of his subordinates was impossible, especially when he genuinely felt weak – humor aside, his body felt immensely sore and somehow also too light, as if the usual heavy cloak of power he usually carried with him everywhere was gone. Anyway, it would be inappropriate to admit that he was wrong, because that would be admitting too much. He hadn’t actually said anything out of place or inaccurate, merely a little tone-deaf.

And yet, having Lan Qiren think that Wen Ruohan valued Jin Guangshan over him…

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” Cangse Sanren said helpfully, if by helpfully one meant it in the sense of throwing fuel onto an already blazing fire. “I mean, really, Sect Leader Wen! You just fought a mountain. Is it really still necessary for you to argue with Sect Leader Nie about who’s got the bigger dick?”

The tension in the room shattered.

Lan Qiren slumped in the main seat with a groan, putting his hands over his face, while the petitioners all burst out in choked-off guffaws and sniggers, some notably less choked-off than others.

Wen Ruohan smirked.

“Well,” he drawled. “Actually – ”

“No,” Lan Qiren said firmly. “Absolutely not. This conversation is not going there.”

Wen Ruohan shrugged, putting aside the uncalled-for burst of relief he was currently feeling. It was only natural that he would find a way to salvage the situation, even if it was with assistance.

“Very well, have it your way,” he said, purposefully casual, as if his comment earlier had merely been meant as a joke. “I suppose Cangse Sanren has a point. There’s no point in comparing anyone to me, now, is there? Yingjiu, under the circumstances I think you’d better send the saber back. We wouldn’t want Jin Guangshan to get the wrong idea.”

“Yes, Sect Leader! At once!”

Lan Qiren looked begrudgingly appeased, and the rest of the room looked profoundly impressed. There, that ought to do it: he’d erased the implication of his earlier statement, and publicly reaffirmed his support for Lan Qiren’s disapproval of Lanling Jin. Now that would make Jin Guangshan really squirm…as was only right. What had the man been thinking, joining forces with Qingheng-jun to scheme against Wen Ruohan and his sect like that?

If it had been Wen Ruohan up in that seat right now, he wouldn’t have limited himself to a mere letter of disapproval. At a minimum he would have demanded a whole cartful of treasures, or maybe even some land, a subordinate sect or two sacrificed to his ambitions…Jin Guangshan ought to count himself lucky!

“Should you be here?” Lan Qiren abruptly asked, frowning at Wen Ruohan. “I thought the doctor said that he intended for you to rest for a while longer? Someone said something about a chalk marker…?”

Wen Ruohan smirked at the idea that someone had had to explain the rules of the “you fucked up” room to Lan Qiren, hopefully in terms as colorful as the way he’d always heard it – though actually, now that he thought about it, he did rather feel as though he might want to go back to bed relatively soon. What was wrong with him? He’d never been this weak after exerting himself.

Though he supposed it had been rather a long time since he’d done himself in this badly…

“Enjoying your new work so much that you’ve decided to get rid of me?” he drawled.

Lan Qiren didn’t rise to the bait. “If that were my intention, I would tell you in advance.”

He probably would, the ridiculous man. Wen Ruohan could imagine it now: Lan Qiren all puffed up like a albino bird of paradise, solemnly stating that he regretted to inform him that he had decided he had no choice but to kill him and that he would appreciate it if Wen Ruohan would be so kind as to make himself ready for the attempt.

It was an oddly comforting thought.

“However, assuming you have just violated the doctors’ directives, I suggest you return to your sickbed, or at a minimum to your room, to continue resting,” Lan Qiren continued, looking annoyed. Or possibly concerned? It was hard to tell with him, sometimes – and for whatever reason, Wen Ruohan had the sudden feeling that Lan Qiren was being deliberately dismissive of him, almost performatively so. “Unless you want to take over managing sect business…?”

Wen Ruohan looked at his subordinates, who looked at him hopefully.

“No, I think I’m enjoying this too much,” he said thoughtfully, and smirked when their faces all fell.

“Well done, Sect Leader Wen!” Cangse Sanren cackled. “Milk that invalid status for all that it’s worth! At least one more day, please. You see, you just missed Qiren-gege threatening everyone to start the morning session at yin shi – ”

“At chen shi, not yin shi! A shichen after dawn, not before!”

“Was that it? I couldn’t tell from the way everyone looked like you’d threatened to murder their first-born sons. Remember, it’s only called the Nightless City because they’re all insomniacs!”

“Oh?” Wen Ruohan said, arching his eyebrows and allowing his tone to become a little dangerous, just for fun. “Is that what someone has told you…?”

The entire room full of petitioners took a step back away from him.

Lan Qiren’s eye twitched.

He turned to Cangse Sanren and said: “Take him away before I throw something at his head.”

And then, to Wen Ruohan: “Take her away before I strangle her.”

“Shall we?” Wen Ruohan asked, offering her his arm. She jumped up and trotted over to take it.

“We shall,” she said with a grin. “You promised me a tour.”

Wen Ruohan was fairly sure he had done no such thing. And, indeed, the moment they had left the main room behind by some distance, Cangse Sanren said, quite casually, “The tour can wait. I want to yell at you. Where’s a good place for that?”

Wen Ruohan opted to lead them both back to his bedroom, since it would be private and he was certain that Lan Qiren, unlike his wives, would think nothing of him taking a woman there to talk. Also because he was feeling increasingly dizzy, and he preferred to be weak somewhere he had protected with many, many layers of protective arrays. Technically the sickrooms were similarly protected, but he had no interest in returning there – someone would undoubtedly come to find him there now that he was awake, and he wasn’t in the mood to listen to complaints.

“How long was I out?” he asked as they walked.

“It’s been a few days,” she said promptly. “Not too long, really quite usual. We had the senior doctor that Qiren said looked least likely to gossip examine you – Wen Dairong, I think his name was – ”

That was fine. Wen Dairong usually preferred research to patients, but he’d kept his hand in with doing the rounds in the sickrooms enough that his skills hadn’t deteriorated, and he was notoriously close-mouthed. Best of all, he was one of Wen Ruohan’s more trustworthy cousins, having always very obviously set supporting his beloved research as the price of his loyalty, and no one could meet that price better than Wen Ruohan.

He wondered if Lan Qiren had been worried when he found out that Wen Ruohan was unconscious. He was fairly sure that Cangse Sanren wouldn’t tell him even if he had.

“Anyway, he confirmed that there’s nothing seriously the matter with you – well, nothing the matter with your health – other than qi exhaustion. Well, other than extremely severe qi exhaustion.” She glanced at him sidelong and waited until they were in his room, with its privacy arrays activated, before she bluntly added, “You completely emptied not only your active supply of spiritual energy but also your reserves, and you dipped pretty heavily into your life force, too. Nothing that will cause long-term damage, but I’m telling you, you were dry. No matter how ridiculously quickly you accumulate more through cultivating – I’ve seen the charts, by the way, so well done there – there’s simply no way you’re getting back to normal until at least a few months have passed, if not more. Welcome to the world of us mere mortals.”

Wen Ruohan scowled.

Unfortunately, after he sat at his desk and took a moment to examine himself, he was forced to conclude that Wen Dairong was right. He didn’t just feel weak, he was weak – not quite down to the level of a common person, but certainly around the level of a common (if still very talented) cultivator. He had woken up too quickly and without guidance, and hadn’t realized the level of his weakness when he’d headed out. No wonder Lan Qiren had made such an effort to get him out of the receiving hall, with Cangse Sanren playing along to make it seem as though neither of them had any concerns for Wen Ruohan’s health or strength.

The information would get out eventually, of course. But their apparent dismissiveness would deceive people for just long enough – long enough to give Wen Ruohan a little more time to decide how to best control the narrative, to ensure that the rest of the cultivation world remembered that while he was weakened, he would only be weakened for a short while, and that in the interval he still had his army and nearly half of the cultivation world at his beck and call.

And also to remind them that when he returned to normal, he would be even more powerful – and extremely vengeful against anyone who dared to try anything in the interim.

“What happened with Qingheng-jun?” he asked Cangse Sanren, who had seemingly forgotten her plan to yell at him in favor of poking around the bedroom with an expression of profound interest. At the moment she was perusing one of Lan Qiren’s annotated copies of the Lan sect rules, which had been carelessly left on the bedside table after Wen Ruohan had grabbed it for a (purposefully rather ostentatious) consult during one of their more contentious bits of bed-play.

That had been a good day. Lan Qiren had been so incredibly annoyed to have lost the argument, and Wen Ruohan had enjoyed every moment of it – as well as every moment of Lan Qiren taking it back out on him later on.

“Qingheng-jun? He’s missing,” Cangse Sanren said, turning back to look at him. “Possibly after having some sort of nervous breakdown? It wasn’t entirely clear. Lan Qiren only saw him leave, and since then he hasn’t been seen anywhere, not even by his own sect, which is starting to be more than a little nervous about it…to make what is undoubtedly a long story short, I’d say our Qiren won that encounter hands down.”

“He hurt him. Lan Qiren’s face – ”

“There’s nothing we can do about that right now, so stop thinking about it. Between you and Qingheng-jun, which one of you just fought a mountain again…?”

Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes.

“The whole world saw you do that, you know. It’s going to have some interesting consequences.”

“Let it,” Wen Ruohan said dismissively. “How is Lan Qiren doing?”

Cangse Sanren gave him a look.

“Oh, yes, please, let’s talk about that,” she said acidly. “The Fire Palace? Really?”

“I concede that I erred,” Wen Ruohan said stiffly, not appreciating her insolence. How dare she think she had any right to scold him? “Also, this is a discussion I will be having with Lan Qiren, not you.”

She arched her eyebrows. “You don’t want advice on how to make up with him?”

On second thought, Wen Ruohan was a practical man from a practical sect; he knew how to be flexible when necessary. With someone as complicated and rigid as Lan Qiren…he could probably use all the help he could get.

He gestured for her to sit.

Cangse Sanren perched herself on his chair, once again resembling nothing more than an over-large bird, probably of a corvid or a vulture. She tapped her distinctive fingernails on his desk, drawing his attention.

“All right,” she said. “You’ve already gotten to the point of admitting that you fucked up, that’s better than I expected. It’s still not going to help you. You really fucked up.”

Wen Ruohan was aware.

“So what’s your plan? You have to apologize.”

Wen Ruohan grimaced.

“Apologize and be punished,” she clarified mercilessly. “The Lan are big on exacting justice.”

Wen Ruohan was aware. Unfortunately, he still wasn’t sure what type of punishment he could offer up that would actually mean anything to Lan Qiren.

“…Lan Xichen suggested I write an essay,” he finally said, all too aware of how pathetic the suggestion sounded. “Laying out what I did wrong and explaining that I wouldn’t do it again.”

“That’s not actually that bad of an idea. He’d probably find it charming,” Cangse Sanren said, to Wen Ruohan’s surprise, but then almost immediately afterwards she made a face. “Well, assuming you were actually willing to do it properly. What’s your proposal for the ‘never doing it again’ bit?”

That had also been the part that had tripped up Wen Ruohan. He was always going to be sect leader and Lan Qiren was always going to be just the sect leader’s spouse – even if one accounted for the unique husband and wife dynamic they’d chosen, there was always going to be an imbalance between them.

Wen Ruohan was always going to have more power.

“Become omnipotent and therefore no longer make mistakes?” he offered, only half-joking – he knew it was unrealistic, but the thought was so very appealing. He was already so powerful, surely if he only tried a little harder, he would finally get to the level where all his problems would be solved. Right?

Cangse Sanren groaned. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say. No essay. It’ll just make it worse.”

“I’m open to alternate suggestions.”

“Nice try. He’d know if it came from me rather than you, and I’m not the one you want him to forgive.”

That was extraordinarily unhelpful.

She hummed. “You are at least aware that at least one part of the problem is that you even have a torture palace to begin with, right?”

Wen Ruohan scowled at her.

“I’m just saying, it’s a lot harder to throw people into your torture palace if you don’t have a torture palace,” Cangse Sanren said with a smirk. “Also, have you ever considered knitting? Or embroidery?”

Wen Ruohan stared at her.

“You know, because you like stabbing things…?”

“Out,” Wen Ruohan said flatly. “Now.”

“Listen, if you would just get another hobby – ”

“Out.”

After Cangse Sanren left, Wen Ruohan opened a drawer in his desk and dug around until he found a very old set of acupuncture needles that he hadn’t used in any number of years, then got up and went to the garden to find a sunny spot to meditate. It had been quite a long time since he’d needed to cultivate the old-fashioned way, but he still remembered the tricks he’d used to do it faster than his peers. Though technically speaking, jabbing yourself with acupuncture needles to help you process spiritual energy faster wasn’t so much a trick as it was an incredibly unwise medical procedure. But that was only if you didn’t know what you were doing…

(He refused to consider if this counted as part of a hobby of “stabbing things.”)

He'd only been meditating for half a shichen when a noise pulled him out of it.

Several noises.

“Are you sure we’re allowed in here?”

“No one’s ever here during the middle of the day, it’s fine.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport.”

“Is this really where Shufu lives now? It’s so big!”

Wen Ruohan opened his eyes and watched bemusedly as a small troop of children marched right into his quarters, with his own little Chao-er leading the way, looking pleased as punch with himself.

For a moment, Wen Ruohan felt rage swelling in his heart, the urge to lash out growing. How dare these children invade his quarters without permission? How insolent they were! He was busy. Didn’t they realize that he had to regain his strength, and quickly? If he didn’t, who would be left to defend his home and his sect –

Well, technically there was now Lan Qiren to do that.

Hmm.

There was something appealing about that.

He took another moment to observe the children, who hadn’t yet noticed him sitting in the corner of the garden. They were sticking mostly to the inside rooms, avidly exploring the various surfaces – the Lan boys were very proudly pointing out everything that visibly belonged to Lan Qiren, no matter how inane, while the other children oohed and aahed appreciatively, and Wen Chao was bouncing around and pointing out things that were characteristic of the Wen sect to equal appreciation.

Interestingly, Wen Chao seemed more comfortable with the younger boys, most particularly the Jiang heir, who he seemed especially eager to impress. It was an interesting choice, given the availability of the seemingly more charismatic Wei boy or the more mature Lan Xichen…or even Jiang Yanli, who was following the others with a surprisingly mischievous smile.

And speaking of smiling, Wen Chao was doing a surprising amount of it, almost to the point that Wen Ruohan briefly doubted that that was his son he was looking at. As far as he was aware, Wen Chao always looked either bitter or resentful, sulking like the spoiled princeling he was whenever Wen Ruohan wasn’t around and cringing and cowering whenever he was. He’d unfortunately inherited a solid portion of his mother’s stupidity, being both gullible and easily manipulated, and those traits in combination with Wen Ruohan’s prickly pride had led him to form grudges against virtually all of his peers in the Nightless City, many of whom had undoubtedly been given ulterior motives by their parents. It wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily, to learn to detect that early on. But unfortunately the result had been to leave him alone, making him a lonely and unpleasant child, willing to lie to get his way but not quite cunning enough to pull it off.

None of that was presently in evidence. Wen Chao looked happy.

How strange. Wen Ruohan had mostly written off his second son, figuring that children mostly resembled their mothers in childhood and their fathers in adulthood, that Wen Chao would therefore improve and acquire more of Wen Ruohan’s own traits as he got older and that there was therefore no point in bothering with him until then. But looking at him now – well, either Wen Chao had very abruptly matured overnight, which seemed highly unlikely, or else the presence of a group of his peers that were not only willing to spend time with him but actively intended to incorporate him into their group for reasons other than their parents’ selfish schemes was doing wonders for his personality.

Wen Chao was practically shining with delight, and with pride. For once, the habitual arrogance of the Wen sect sat upon him naturally rather than hanging off of him like an ill-fitting coat.

Much more like Wen Ruohan than his mother. Good, good. About time!

(Really, if this was the result of Lan Qiren’s casual instruction to his nephews to befriend his son, who by that point he’d barely even met, Wen Ruohan couldn’t wait to see how much active instruction by the man would benefit his son further.)

No, it was better not to interrupt. He wouldn’t want to ruin Wen Chao’s big moment, after all.

“What are these swords doing on the wall?” Wei Ying asked. “They seem pretty nice.”

“They’re treasure swords!” Wen Chao chirped. “Each one of them has a name and a history, a reputation – they’re all famous, every one of them.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to have swords on your wall, though?” Jiang Cheng sounded doubtful. “What if they fall off? Or what if someone comes in and grabs them in the middle of a fight…?”

“My father would grab them first,” Wen Chao said. “And then he’d kill them.”

Good boy.

“It would be awesome,” he added proudly.

Wen Ruohan smirked.

“But why so many?” Wei Ying wanted to know. “Don’t most people only have the one spiritual sword that they cultivate with…? Does your father have a favorite, or – ”

“Children!” Lan Qiren’s voice cracked out like a whip, making them all jump and scatter like a flock of startled pheasants. “What are you doing in here?”

“We were looking around, Shufu,” Lan Xichen said respectfully.

“We weren’t bothering anyone, Teacher Lan,” Jiang Yanli said, and Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying nodded furiously in agreement with her. “We didn’t disturb anything in here, either.”

“We just wanted to see where Shufu lived,” Lan Wangji explained.

“I told them you lived with my father,” Wen Chao put in, very proud. “They didn’t believe me at first, but now they do.”

From where Wen Ruohan was sitting, and because he knew to look, he could tell that Lan Qiren’s ears had gone pink. It was perhaps a little strange for a married couple with separate courtyards available to choose to share one instead – verging on shameless, really, since what it usually meant was that they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Hopefully none of the children had picked up on that. Lan Qiren might die of embarrassment.

Also, if he didn’t stop blushing, Wen Ruohan was going to start laughing.

“You still should not have entered these rooms without permission,” Lan Qiren said firmly. “These are Wen Ruohan’s private living quarters. What if he objected to your intrusion?”

“That’s why we came now,” Wei Ying explained. “So he wouldn’t be bothered! He can’t be bothered if he’s not here!”

The children all nodded in agreement.

Lan Qiren blinked owlishly at them with a frown. “What do you mean ‘he’s not here’? He’s right over there, in the garden.”

“He’s what?!” Wen Chao shrieked.

Wen Ruohan smiled with teeth when the children finally looked over at him.

The next ke or so was spent in childish pandemonium – and Wen Ruohan trying and failing not to laugh – until Lan Qiren got tired of it all and ordered them all (excluding Wen Ruohan) to leave.

“And each of you will copy lines for half a shichen this evening,” he added sternly. “Xichen, you will be in charge of selecting which lines, but I expect you to pick something appropriate regarding respecting one’s elders and the privacy of others. Understood?”

“Yes, Shufu! Understood, Shufu!”

“Jiang Yanli, as the eldest, I expect you to both supervise and lead by example.”

“Yes, Teacher Lan. Understood, Teacher Lan.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Wen Ruohan watched them go with amusement. “You speak to the children in the same tone you use for my lieutenants,” he remarked once the children were gone. “Or should that be the other way around…?”

Lan Qiren glanced at him only briefly, then turned away. “Get those needles out of your wrists. Words will not be able to encompass my displeasure if you manage to further hurt yourself in an effort to recover your power faster.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Wen Ruohan said, though he did remove the needles and get up to come back into the room. Why wasn’t Lan Qiren looking at him? Was this the result of the Fire Palace, now that Lan Qiren had had some time to think about it…? “Why are you here?”

Lan Qiren stiffened. “I live here. Am I unwelcome?”

Wen Ruohan hated the ungainly awkwardness that seemed to have suddenly sprung up between them. It had never existed before, not even right after they had first married – Lan Qiren had been earnest, then, and sincere, even though he’d also been recently traumatized. There hadn’t been any of this…prickliness.

This – wariness.

Wen Ruohan hated it, but he knew he had only himself to blame.

“Not at all,” he said, keeping his voice deliberately light, smooth. “I only meant that I would have expected you to continue to receive petitioners until later in the afternoon. They’re usually especially needy immediately after some major event.”

“I dismissed them early. I wanted to find you to discuss an important matter – we’ve received an invitation to go to the Lotus Pier.”

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows. That was unexpected. “What reason does the Jiang sect have to invite us?”

“Not just us,” Lan Qiren explained. “The entire cultivation world. They are holding a celebration…ah, no, let me explain from the beginning. It is about what happened in Xixiang.”

“…they’re throwing a party over it?”

Lan Qiren had the world’s most tired and long-suffering expression. “The cultivation world has unanimously decided that they did not, in fact, nearly go to war, but rather that everyone had merely gathered together to tackle the ghosts of Xixiang.”

Wen Ruohan felt a sudden headache. “Are you joking?”

“I am not. Everyone worked quite collaboratively against the spirits that emerged from the mountain. It is being hailed as an example of the cultivation world overcoming obstacles to unite against evil.”

“That is the most transparent face-saving lie I have ever heard in my life,” Wen Ruohan marveled. “My very, very long life.”

That got a faint smile out of Lan Qiren.

It faded quickly, though.

“Transparent or not, everyone has an interest in maintaining it,” he said briskly, shifting back to impassively discussing politics. “No one had time to question the ghosts, so the secret of the mine remains intact, and the excuse of a night hunt in the area happens to match perfectly with the lie that drew your army there – a large-scale haunting, which they were invited to help eradicate. The aggressive moves by Gusu Lan and Lanling Jin can then be explained away as mere over-enthusiasm and the result of unfortunate misunderstandings, particularly as both sect leaders retreated or left relatively early in the proceedings – ”

Wen Ruohan was deeply unsurprised to hear that Jin Guangshan had gotten spooked by seeing a display of what real power was capable of and ran away, leaving his forces to face the music without him. He’d probably spent the time comforting himself with his current mistresses and putting together a plan regarding who he was going to blame for having gotten involved in the first place. Maybe he’d even re-use Wang Liu, who had undoubtedly outlived his usefulness. Certainly that pathetic display earlier suggested that Jin Guangshan was absolutely desperate to get back into Wen Ruohan’s good graces…

“I have even heard,” and now Lan Qiren’s face was set in deeply disapproving stone, “that some people appear to be trying to claim that the misunderstanding was originally caused by an illusion array, possibly a ghost wall of some unprecedented type – ”

Wen Ruohan snorted in disgust. That sounded like the Jin sect all right. “Face-saving all around, then.”

“Yes, exactly.” Lan Qiren sighed. “The Jiang sect, for its part, wants no one to pay attention to the fact that a war was nearly started with an independent sect so close to their border, particularly since it quite evidently happened without their knowledge. Moreover, they are also using this party as an opportunity to make up for the discussion conference that was canceled…”

Wen Ruohan snorted a second time, this time in amusement. That wasn’t going to happen.

Lan Qiren hummed in agreement. “Unfortunately, this situation presents us with two issues. The first is that we do not know where my brother has gone or what he might do. Putting aside his future actions in their own right, he is still capable of sharing the details of what happened in the mine, which would by itself be devastating – he is the last remaining witness to the actual events of the mine, excluding the Gusu Lan sect elders involved.”

“I assume from that statement that you’ve confirmed that the merchant house that committed most of the massacre was put to the sword in turn?”

Lan Qiren scowled. “None of your record keepers were able to find any trace of them after that time, so I would assume so. Likely in the name of ‘justice,’ as we are dealing with hypocrites.”

Lan Qiren was still furious at his sect elders, it seemed. Quite reasonable.

At least he was displaying some emotion. Wen Ruohan was growing increasingly displeased with the neutral expression Lan Qiren sometimes put on, finding it far more hateful than his unvarnished rage. Now that he had seen Lan Qiren use that deadened face in public meetings with his political enemies, he no longer wanted to see it when they were alone.

“What’s the second problem?” he asked.

Lan Qiren glanced at him again – another fleeting look, there and then gone. “You have been invited as the guest of honor, on account of your heroism in defending the common people of Xixiang. It would be impolitic to refuse.”

Now it was Wen Ruohan’s turn to feel prickly. “Why should we refuse? Are you suggesting that I would be unable to attend? You think I am too weak, perhaps? Or merely untrustworthy…?”

“Ridiculous,” Lan Qiren snapped. “I had only thought that you might not wish to appear in public until you had had more of a chance to recover.”

Wen Ruohan sneered. “Yes, you’re just being considerate, of course. How could I doubt it? When you won’t even look at me – ”

Lan Qiren’s jaw tightened, and Wen Ruohan cut himself off. What was he doing? This wasn’t what he’d wanted at all.

He’d wanted…

“Cangse Sanren said that I shouldn’t write you an essay,” he blurted out.

That got a reaction, at least: Lan Qiren turned to stare at him. “An essay?”

“I asked your nephews how I could make you stop being angry at me after I – after a misstep,” Wen Ruohan explained. “Lan Xichen explained that if it was him, he would write an essay explaining what he had done wrong and expressing that he wouldn’t do it again, as well as proposing appropriate discipline to be imposed. But I could not think of what discipline would be appropriate, and Cangse Sanren said that offering to become omnipotent as a solution was likely to backfire, so – ”

He stopped again, but this time it was because Lan Qiren was laughing.

At first it was only a little, an incredulous little chuckle, but then it got stronger and stronger until Lan Qiren’s shoulders were shaking with the force of his laughter.

“Is this,” he wheezed, “your idea of an apology?”

“It’s not exactly an area in which I have a great deal of experience,” Wen Ruohan said, watching Lan Qiren’s face, all crinkled-up with good humor, and wanting desperately to kiss him. “On account of the fact that I am so rarely wrong.”

That just made Lan Qiren laugh harder.

Eventually he needed to sit down, which he did on the bed – quite promising, really. Wen Ruohan went and sat next to him.

“Tell me,” he said. “Have I beaten out Lao Nie?”

“Beaten…? Oh, you mean in being the most obnoxious man in the world?” Lan Qiren wiped his eyes. “Do not tell me you have gotten competitive over that. It is hardly a title anyone would want.”

“Perhaps I simply wish to be first in your thoughts.”

“Me and the rest of the world,” Lan Qiren said dryly. “I am well aware of your narcissism.”

Wen Ruohan had meant his statement to be romantic, but he had to concede that Lan Qiren had a good point. Also, he’d forgotten that there was no point in romantic subtleties with Lan Qiren; the man was too blunt and literal for that.

He’d have to be equally blunt in turn.

“Your sect believes in punishment that ends and absolves the error,” he said, because he still couldn’t bring himself to force the words I was wrong and I regret what I’ve done through his lips. “Is there something that would be appropriate here? I am willing.”

Lan Qiren’s humor slowly faded away, and he sighed.

“I do not think that it would be appropriate for me to suggest a punishment in this circumstance,” he said. “The purpose of punishment is twofold: deterrence and remediation. Deterrence applies both to the community at large, to show them what is wrong and what is right, and to the individual, so that they never again do what they know to be wrong. Remediation is a matter of balancing the scales of justice, repairing the harm committed so that the victim is appeased and peace restored. While punishment can be imposed and often is – discipline is generic, even-handed, applicable to all, a way to teach and to remind those who err of the importance of the rules that underwrite the basis of our community – it is a little different when punishment is being used as a means of penance. In those cases, voluntary accedence is the most effective.”

Wen Ruohan frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you will need to determine for yourself what the appropriate punishment will be. As the victim, I can absolve you of the harm you caused, if I wish, but that is only half of what you must do: there is still the question of deterrence. Only you can determine what you must do now to show your sincerity – what sacrifice you will make that would serve as both payment for the past and a promise to the future.”

Wen Ruohan scowled.

“There are any number of punishments that you can choose from. There are punishments of pain, where you show your sincerity through suffering the pain that you caused others or to use the pain to burn in the lesson to be learned; there are punishments of time, where you devote yourself to writing lines or essays or some other form of contemplation that encourages you to truly think about what you have done wrong. There are even punishments which consist merely of loss – loss of advantage, loss of privileges, or even loss of freedom…though I will say that I would greatly disapprove if you chose seclusion as a punishment.”

“Absolutely not,” Wen Ruohan assured him. “As a general rule, I try not to lock myself alone with my paranoia. It only makes it worse.”

Lan Qiren’s eyes curved in another smile. A lingering one, this time.

“Explain to me what this means,” Wen Ruohan said. “You won’t impose a punishment until I select one that is appropriate? Does that mean we are at odds until then?”

“No, merely that your punishment is not fully complete until you yourself determine that you have completed it. For the half that involves seeking to remedy the harm…” He paused briefly, then shook his head. “There is no need. I am willing to accept your apology and forgive you.”

Wen Ruohan stared.

“You were tricked,” Lan Qiren pointed out. “Anyone can be tricked. I understood at once what must have happened.”

“You were tortured,” Wen Ruohan said. “On my order. You shouldn’t forgive me just like that!”

“And that is why punishment is required,” Lan Qiren said patiently. “You cannot force me to forgive you, but you also cannot force me not to. It is wholly up to me whether I wish to bear a grudge, and I do not. But only punishment will adequately serve to make you believe it.”

That was true in one respect: Wen Ruohan didn’t believe it.

Or, rather, he supposed he did believe it, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want Lan Qiren to forgive him because the Lan sect rules said Do not bear grudges. He wanted something else. Something better.

He wanted Lan Qiren to trust him again. He wanted Lan Qiren to love him.

And that meant, he supposed, that that was what the punishment was really for: to show Lan Qiren that Wen Ruohan meant what he said. That Wen Ruohan was serious, that hereally was sorry, that he really wouldn’t do it again.

Only then would Lan Qiren be able to really forgive him in his heart, rather than merely forgiving him in his head.

“I’ll think of something,” he said, and for the first time really meant it, rather than a half-hearted attempt to patch over the consequences of his actions. “Give me some time, and I’ll come up with a suitable punishment. One that even you won’t be able to say is inappropriate.”

“Do not underestimate yourself,” Lan Qiren said, sounding amused. “You excel above all others.”

Wen Ruohan should not have felt complimented by what was obviously an insult. He was, though. Just a bit.

“Though, on that note, I feel that we should discuss what you did with the mountain.”

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows. “I suppose, like Cangse Sanren, you wish to scold me for overexerting my strength and making a spectacle of myself?”

“On the contrary. I wish to praise you. You did a very good thing, saving the common people, and you did it at great cost to yourself.” Lan Qiren shifted a little, and Wen Ruohan noted that his ears had gone red once more. “Perhaps it is arrogance on my part, but I flatter myself to think that I played some role in your decision to do what you did – ”

“It’s not arrogance when it’s true,” Wen Ruohan said. “You’re right. I did it for you. Or – not for you. Because you would have wanted me to.”

Lan Qiren looked at him, and there was that strange emotion on his face again, the strangest mix of pain and fondness.

“That pleases me more than I can say,” he said, and Wen Ruohan smirked proudly. “Well, let it not be said that the rules are not fair. Just as they demand punishment for wrongdoing, so too do they demand that rewards be given for exceptional behavior.”

Reward?

Wen Ruohan brightened. A reward sounded good.

“Of course, we must account for the fact that you have been injured and rendered vulnerable,” Lan Qiren mused. “I would not want to cause you to feel any sense of threat from me, and also we must avoid causing you greater harm…I have been giving the matter some serious thought, and I think I have found a method that would work well.”

This sounded very good.

“Of course, it would require you to consent to being tied up – ”

Forget very good. This was going to be great.

#mdzs #wen ruohan #lan qiren #cangse sanren #my fic #my fics #Megafic

[mariposakitten]

I NEED HELP!!

I've had a fic on the backburner for a while. The premise: what if it wasn't Nie Mingjue who snuck into Nightless City to assassinate WRH? What if it were Nie Huaisang instead?

The problem: I am very good at scenarios and feels, but less good when it comes to PLOT. I have a whole scene already, but I don't know what happens next! Please, I am open to any and all suggestions!

Every day, every hour, Meng Yao calculates the odds.

The soldiers in the field, and their abilities. The terrain. The weapons available. The tactics and strategies favored by each sect, and how they interact. The leaders on the field, their strengths and weaknesses. The moves he knows Wen Ruohan will make next. The moves available to counter him.

Every day, he calculates the odds. Every day, he determines whether his chances of survival are better if he remains a spy, or if he serves Wen Ruohan in truth.

He runs those numbers every day. And every day, he discards the results.

Because, of course, Zewu-Jun is out there. Zewu-Jun is still fighting, still on the front lines, and so… and so it doesn’t matter. Not really. It’s a weakness in himself, one he despises, one that could kill him, but it’s true. As long as Zewu-Jun fights, the odds don’t truly matter. He’ll stay where he is and stay in his role and he’ll mock himself as a fool but he’ll do it anyway.

If Zewu-Jun dies - and he’d know if he did, he’s sure of that, a victory of that magnitude would be shouted through the halls – then, perhaps, the numbers will matter.

(If Zewu-Jun dies, then nothing will matter at all.)

***

He’s just sitting down to dinner when the summons comes. He’s needed, immediately, in the Fire Palace.

That in itself is a cause for concern. After all, when are a torturer's skills urgent? Didn’t Wen Ruohan himself emphasize how the anticipation of pain can be just as effective, sometimes even more so, than pain itself? What emergency has him hurrying down the corridors of Nightless City, as if a second lost were a second wasted?

Even as he hurries, he can hear the whispers, the gossip. It’s enough. Enough to answer some questions, to raise entirely new ones, and to take his mind completely away from these concerns.

“-tried to assassinate-"

“-an idiot to think he could get past-"

“-revenge for his father, do you think?”

“-the Nie fool-"

“-thinking with his sabre, they all do-"

Fuck. Fuck. Nie Mingjue. How could someone that big ever hope to be an assassin, he thinks, and ruthlessly quashes any affection that might accompany the sentiment. Nie Mingjue’s foolishness is not his problem.

Except that it is, except that he’s going to have to deal with it, except that he’s going to have to torture the first person who was ever truly kind to him, the first person who looked at him and saw intelligence and capability and potential rather than corruption and filth. He’s going to have to look him in the eyes, and hurt him, and not apologize.

For all that it ended badly, for all the pain and acrimony between them, he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t allow his step to falter, even as this sinks in. Nie-zongzhu is strong. He is Chifeng-Zun, the Red Blade Master, and he won’t break easily. And that’s a good thing, Meng Yao tells himself. Because, as a Sect Leader, Wen Ruohan will know he has valuable information. As long as he doesn’t give it up, Meng Yao won’t be ordered to kill him. Wen Ruohan will want him kept alive, as long as there’s a chance of getting something useful from him.

And as long as he holds out, as long as he refuses to give any information that might put Zewu-Jun in danger, there will be no need for Meng Yao to… slip up. Go too far. Injure the prisoner so badly that even Wen Qing can’t fix it.

It still means torturing Nie Mingjue, of course. He’ll never forgive Meng Yao, not for that and not for the fate that will befall any unfortunate soldiers who accompanied him, who weren’t deemed worthy of interrogating. But pain will pass and injuries will heal, and as for forgiveness… well, Nie Mingjue already considered him unforgivable, and for far less cause. Meng Yao can live with being unforgiven for something he actually deserves, especially when it means keeping Nie Mingjue (and Zewu-Jun) alive.

Thus mollified, Meng Yao enters the Fire Palace and looks around, seeking Chifeng-Zun. His eyes glance over a figure chained to the wall, pitifully small; he is looking for the great Nie-zongzhu, the formidable figure who can fill a space even as vast as this one with the sheer force of his presence.

Then the figure on the wall makes a small sound, and his eyes drag back, and the bottom falls out of his world.

It’s not Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue is terrible at stealth. Nie Mingjue would make a terrible assassin.

Someone must have convinced him of that. Because it’s not Nie Mingjue.

It’s Nie Huaisang.

[nikinramblings]

While reading MDZS for the first time I thought it was too convenient that MXY's family's death was accounted to WWX because his invention led to it and a part of me was convinced it would be explained later that it wasn't, that there was a trick somewhere we would only discover as the story went on.

Now, I'm inclined to believe NHS figured out it would unfold like this and used it to his advantage, but I'm only confiding in his cunningness because I don't like to think it was up to chance. Sure, it could be expected that WWX would play his part and exact revenge but I feel like there was the need to make sure he would stay, whether he did it out of his own volition or not. I'm speculating, if I missed an explanation on this part I'm sorry, you can ignore me, I'm not super familiar with some details of the plot.

In truth I get why it had to be that way, why - convenient or not - it couldn't be avoidable to use this or a similar ploy. WWX needed to keep that body but if he killed them then nothing else would make sense.

All the people he killed before his death wanted to kill him and most importantly to kill those he tried to protect, he felt like he had no other way to keep them safe in what were essentially times of war. Toward the end he began to lose control and it led to the somewhat accidental death of JZX, the only innocent one in respect of WWX's motivations. He's the first to abhorre what he did. After JYL's death he lost his mind, the massacre in Nightless City is not a rational act.

With this I'm not trying to condone what he did, if anything I was even a bit irritated at the changes the donghua made about his ultimate degeneration, which I think take away too much from him in terms of responsibilities, but that's something for another time. I'm just putting into perspective his mindset and maybe what in a way is his chance of redemption.

So, he committed terrible sins for a very defined reason. A reason that it's important to notice is quite selfless and commendable (again the reason, not how he acted it out).

But if he killed Mo Xuanyu's family, without even being sure that was what was requested of him, just to stay alive, it would have been calculated, assassination in cold blood for his personal gain. Something very different from his past actions. It would mean starting his new life worse than how he ended the first one. Indiscriminate killing with no attempt to find another way, to respect the life of others is what led to the loss of himself, everyone around him and in the end his life. He wasn't that person and if he was it wouldn't have mattered what led him to do what he did in his first life. He shouldn't have been allowed to remain alive in the end, not in a death penalty kind of way but as in losing any merit toward redemption.

It's also a good manifestation of how responsibility works in the story, the fact that he didn't mean for any of that to happen or that he didn't personally deliver the last blow doesn't make him innocent. It's what he did that led to all those people's deaths and it still weights on him even after his own death because it keeps affecting others.

So the detail that kept bugging me is actually quite nice. Still too convenient, narratively speaking. But nice and organic to the story.

#mdzs novel #mdzs spoilers #wei wuxian #mdzs wwx #wwx #mdzs wei wuxian #mdzs wei ying #wei ying #mo dao zu shi

[surprisebitch]

i'm really gonna have to give it to Fate Grand Order for introducing me to China's only female emperor Wu Zetian.. her depiction there is really one-dimensional and even not so appealing since she is just a sadistic and manipulative empress. reading about her made me question the legitimacy and validity of her profile in game, so i watched a documentary on her.

fast forward years after, i am writing my final paper on her for this Early Chinese History elective i'm taking. and after reading a bunch of peer-reviewed articles, it really turns out that FGO distorted her and focused perhaps on the biased historical accounts written by men to demonize a woman in power

i'm not saying that FGO is bad. it's a good game, but when it comes to historical narratives done in game.. be critical and read beyond what FGO offers because the biases of the writers can really be uncovered. in Wu's case, they probably just focused on the aspect of her that will captivate a certain target audience that enjoys sadistic women, which really sucks cause Empress Wu is complex and one of the most capable leaders so ahead of her time. she allowed women to serve as officials and even allowed commoners to be elected. her policies also had proto-feminist ideals and while on one hand, they could have served her interest to legitimise her authority, she did fight for women to be seen as equal with men. and besides what she did for women, she was able to keep her people fed and was skilled in foreign diplomatic skills.

Wu was honestly so ahead of her time. like it really sucks that FGO had to immortalize this negative account of her of how she issued punishment or dealt with her political enemies, which may not have been exclusive to her as other emperors before her may have done similar methods. It may have also been false or propaganda to paint her as ruthless and the eery similarity with Empress Lü Zhi makes the account suspicious, so it was maybe an attempt to conflate women in leadership at the time. However, history can really be complex and not the most accurate, especially when you consider the social context. in this case, Wu went against what Confucian ethics deem as morally correct. a female Empress who also advocated Buddhism would be seen as a threat. in fact, after Wu, not many female leaders appeared anymore and the progressive policies she had got reverted.

anyway, this turned out LONGER than i expected.. but yeah, although I really despise Minase or whoever's idea it was to design Wu Zetian in game as she is, i'm glad that it was this flawed depiction that motivated me to learn more about such a compelling historical figure

#wu zetian #empress of china #fgo #assassin of the nightless city #empress wu #fate grand order #fan bingbing

[miramisaki]

I’ve been meaning to draw this for a year now

#fgo #fate grand order #assassin of shinjuku #assassin of the nightless city #yan qing (FGO) #wu zetian (FGO) #Mira draws stuff

[randomstranger27]

How's farming been going for everyone? I've been...busy.

#Fate/Grand Order #fgo #Meltryllis #Alexander #Scathach=Skadi #Assassin of the Nightless City #Hans Christian Andersen #Tamamo Cat #Bond farming is dumb. #The class banner is coming up. #Should I take the bait? #Extra seems good; I'd like Salieri. #The assassin banner looks good as well. #...I should save for Mori.