#Lan Wangji doesn’t believe it happened until like four months later when something happens and he gets hurt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

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18, 15, 11 for sadness! love your fics sm

18) "Promise me that if I don’t make it back that you’ll watch out for them.”

Jiang Cheng is four when he writes something to his soulmate for the first time. He begged his sister to teach him to write hello, just so that he could let his soulmate know that he’s there and thinking of them and today his sister finally deemed his strokes readable enough to write them out.

Jiang Cheng’s hand shakes a bit—the brush still too big in his tiny hand—but under Jiang Yanli’s watchful eye he manages to write it down on his arm in a way that is at least readable.

“I did it!” Jiang Cheng yells excitedly when he is done and Jiang Yanli smiles at him and pets his head, clearly proud of him.

“And now we wait,” she says and Jiang Cheng sits down more firmly, his arm always in sight so that he doesn’t miss his soulmate’s reply.

It doesn’t take long at all for some new characters to show up, but they are a lot more complicated than what Jiang Cheng just wrote, and he’s not yet old enough to read them properly.

He eagerly holds his arm out for Jiang Yanli to read his soulmate’s message out to him, but he knows something is wrong when her face falls.

“What does it say, a-jie?” he still wants to know and Jiang Yanli pats his head again.

“It says ‘don’t write again’,” she reads out for him and Jiang Cheng pouts.

“That’s not very nice,” he mutters and climbs into Jiang Yanli’s lap when she pulls him over.

“No, it’s not. But it means your soulmate is older than you,” she says and flicks his nose.

“Like you?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and Jiang Yanli laughs.

“Maybe, yes,” she gives back and Jiang Cheng stares at the characters on his arm again.

He has a soulmate! And they are older than him!

“I will draw for them,” Jiang Cheng decides, because his mother berated him often enough that doodling odd shapes on his papers is actually not the same as properly writing characters, and his soulmate only told him to stop one of those things.

“You should do that,” Jiang Yanli encourages him though and Jiang Cheng gets started on it right away.

And he doesn’t stop, not even when he doesn’t receive an answer from his soulmate.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is nine when he tells his soulmate his name.

He never again received an answer from his soulmate, but that never stopped him from continuing to doodle on his skin, much to his mother’s despair.

‘My name is Jiang Cheng’ he writes out one day, early in the morning, so he can scrub it off before breakfast and before his mother can say something to him about it.

He fears that his soulmate might not yet be awake and that he won’t get an answer until a much later time, but then he already feels the tell-tale tingle of his soulmate writing something.

Jiang Cheng has only felt it once in his life before, but it’s not a feeling you easily forget.

‘I don’t want to know’ is the reply he receives and Jiang Cheng’s face falls.

He scrubs his own name off his skin and sees with relief that his soulmate does the same on their end, but then the implication of what just happens hits him and he crawls under his blanket again.

His soulmate doesn’t want him. They didn’t even ask for his name before or any other identifying feature and now they didn’t even offer anything in return and Jiang Cheng has to bite back tears at that.

Fine, he thinks after long miserable minutes. If his soulmate doesn’t want him, then he doesn’t want his soulmate either.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is sixteen when he has to watch Wei Wuxian write obscenities on his arms in broad daylight and he’s also sixteen when he has to see Lan Wangji blush as he tries to cover the characters on his arm up.

There’s an ugly feeling forming in his chest and Jiang Cheng knows that it’s jealousy.

It seems like at least Wei Wuxian has a soulmate who is not completely against the match. It’s not like Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli can relate, and that thought at least brings some comfort to Jiang Cheng.

He’s not the only one who’s soulmate doesn’t like them.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is seventeen when his Sect burns and his family dies.

He knows it’s stupid, even as he puts a brush with shaking fingers to his arm, but he has to warn his soulmate.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if they are a cultivator or not, if they are in danger or perfectly safe, but he has to warn them to give them a fighting chance.

‘The Wens are attacking. Please stay safe’, he writes out, his strokes barely legible and then everything is a blur.

He does not get a reply from his soulmate.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is eighteen when he goes to war.

He spends three months looking for his brother, before he finds him and brings him home, and then he can only remember battlefield after battlefield.

Jiang Cheng simultaneously doesn’t feel old enough to be doing this and like he has never done anything else as Zidian swings in a wide arch over his head, but then everything blurs again as the next wave of Wen soldiers hit.

He always feels exhausted down to his bones these days but at least he knows that his siblings are safe and that’s more than many of the other soldiers can say.

Jiang Cheng tries not to think about his soulmate too much.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when he feels alive for the first time in months as Nie Mingjue pushes him against a wall and follows the motion up with a kiss.

Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he’s been looking for a while now but then again, who hasn’t? It’s Nie Mingjue after all and Jiang Cheng cannot believe he gets to have this, if even for only one night.

He moves his hands over Nie Mingjue’s shoulders, leaning back against the wall and letting Nie Mingjue bite kiss after kiss down the length of his neck.

“This is no strings attached,” Nie Mingjue rasps out between kisses. “Don’t make it into something it’s not.”

“I’m not that naïve,” Jiang Cheng bites out, but his voice threatens to break away into a moan when Nie Mingjue sucks at the hinge of his jaw.

Jiang Cheng damn well knows what a war hook-up is, and he’s aware that after this is all done, things will be completely different.

Neither of them will have time to look at the other again, no matter if they even want to or not.

Though Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he really, really wants to. He wouldn’t mind if this became a more regular thing, if he’s being honest, but he keeps those thoughts to himself, which is not that hard when Nie Mingjue lowers his head to kiss a mark into the base of Jiang Cheng’s throat.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng pants out and his hands dig into Nie Mingjue’s shoulders. “Come on, tent, tent!” he gets out despite the mind-blowing things Nie Mingjue is alreadydoing to him and he doesn’t even want to imagine how he’s going to survive the night.

But that is something he can figure out after they’ve had sex. For now, Jiang Cheng pulls Nie Mingjue on top of him again, after he pushed him down onto the bed, and he can’t wait for them to undress.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen and freshly fucked when he finds out that Nie Mingjue is his soulmate.

Jiang Cheng wakes up in the middle of the night, plagued by nightmares like he so often is since the burning of Lotus Pier, and despite him being absolute exhausted he can’t fall asleep again.

So he takes his time to admire Nie Mingjue—and reminding himself that this is a one-time thing only—but when he can’t quite keep still anymore he starts to draw shapes onto Nie Mingjue’s arm.

He stopped drawing for his soulmate a long time ago, but it seems like old habits die hard, because Jiang Cheng is just mindlessly drawing shapes into Nie Mingjue’s skin when he feels an answering tingle on his own arm.

Jiang Cheng freezes because surely it can’t be. Surely this is just one big coincident.

He makes the same motion over and over again, always keeping an eye on Nie Mingjue to check that he doesn’t wake up, and Jiang Cheng shudders when he feels the phantom sensation of the same movement on his arm.

“No,” Jiang Cheng whispers, because he doesn’t trust this; Nie Mingjue would have told him.

But now there’s this niggling doubt in Jiang Cheng’s mind so he cranes his head around to check if there are any brushes nearby. When he sees one he quickly gets out of bed to retrieve it, together with some ink, but when he turns around to the bed Nie Mingjue is staring at him.

“What are you doing?” Nie Mingjue wants to know, warily eying the brush in Jiang Cheng’s hand and a tiny part of Jiang Cheng thinks that’s already confirmation enough.

“You’re my soulmate,” Jiang Cheng says, and it feels strange to say it out loud, and he can see how Nie Mingjue immediately closes himself off.

“I’m not. I told you this is just a one time thing, don’t get any ideas in your head.”

“But I’m not just getting any ideas in my head, am I?” Jiang Cheng asks and before Nie Mingjue can say anything else, he dips the brush into the ink and moves it over his arm.

It’s just a wiggly line, but it’s enough because the same line shows up on Nie Mingjue’s arm, no matter how much he tries to hide it by pulling the blanket up.

“What the fuck, Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and then the anger bubbles over.

He always thought he was more sad that his soulmate doesn’t want him, but it seems like the anger was not far off, either.

“It doesn’t matter,“ Nie Mingjue snaps out turning away from Jiang Cheng.

“You could have at least told me. You could have at least told me that you don’t want me,” Jiang Cheng says and he puts the brush down with deliberately careful movements, because otherwise he might just break it.

“It’s not even—” Nie Mingjue starts but he cuts himself off. “It doesn’t matter, Wanyin. We’re at war!”

“We weren’t when I was four, or nine, or fifteen, or any other time,” Jiang Cheng spits back because what kind of excuse is that even. “What are your excuses for those times, huh?”

“I’m going to die young, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue says and suddenly he sounds tired. “Either I die in two days, or in two years at best, but it’s going to be young. And I wasn’t about to do that to any soulmate. I’m not about to do that to you.”

That confession leaves Jiang Cheng speechless for a moment, before he manages to hold on to his anger again.

“So you just thought you’d fuck me once and be done with it?” he hisses and he can see how Nie Mingjue flinches at his words.

It feels like a very hollow victory.

“I just thought—I thought I could have this, at least for one night. Know how it felt like to be with someone that was intended for me,” Nie Mingjue whispers and he’s still not meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes.

“You could have had it earlier. You can have it after we kill Wen Ruohan, too,” Jiang Cheng tries, because he doesn’t quite understand why Nie Mingjue is so pessimistic about everything.

Jiang Cheng is the one who already lost everything, and even he has more hope than Nie Mingjue it seems.

“I’m not sure—the assault in two days—” Nie Mingjue starts, but he trails off with a shrug. “There’s so much that can go wrong.”

“Then don’t lead it,” Jiang Cheng immediately says, but of course Nie Mingjue only laughs at that suggestion.

“You think I really could just send our people to die, while I stay behind? While I stay safe? Maybe we’re not made for each other, after all,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng grinds his teeth together.

“Don’t you dare,” Jiang Cheng hisses, because how dare Nie Mingjue try to turn it around like this. “The intel we got from Lan Xichen’s spy was good so far, wasn’t it? What makes you think this one will be different?”

“It’s too good,” Nie Mingjue says with a sigh. “Something is bound to go wrong sooner or later and with our luck it’s sooner. All it needs is one missed troupe movement; one wrong time and we’re all done for.”

“You really don’t think you’re going to survive that mission,” Jiang Cheng whispers, because he can hear the quiet acceptance in Nie Mingjue’s voice.

“It doesn’t matter if I do or not, Wanyin. That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point, Mingjue? Please do enlighten me, because so far it doesn’t make that much sense to me.”

“I’m going to die young. It doesn’t matter if it happens at Wen Ruohan’s hands or if I succumb to a qi deviation, but I probably don’t have more than two to three years left. You really think I want you to suffer through that?”

“What do you mean, qi deviation? You seem perfectly healthy.”

“It’s a family thing,” Nie Mingjue tiredly says and scrubs a hand over his face. “My father died of one as did his father before. As will I.”

“I thought Wen Ruohan killed your father,” Jiang Cheng gives back and he shrugs awkwardly when Nie Mingjue stares in surprise at him. “What? I was the Sect heir, even back then. I did listen to politics and I heard you loud and clear.”

“Well, then you heard more than the other Sects did,” Nie Mingjue says with a bitter smile, but then he sighs. “It’s part of our cultivational style,” he then admits but Jiang Cheng won’t have it.

“No. I’m not going to let that happen. You can’t use that as an excuse, because I will find a way to prevent that.”

“And how are you going to do what my father and his father and his father couldn’t, huh?” Nie Mingjue wants to know, but he slightly turned towards Jiang Cheng, which gives him more hope than it probably should.

“Dual cultivation, for one,” Jiang Cheng says. “Your father’s wives were already dead when it happened, right? That could help. That could give you time.”

“It’s not a permanent solution,” Nie Mingjue warns him and Jiang Cheng stubbornly shakes his head.

“But it will give me enough time to figure something else out. Our Clarity Bells are not called like that for nothing,” Jiang Cheng admits, his eyes falling to the bell fastened to his belt. “We don’t make a big deal out of it, but we Jiangs are pretty good healers.”

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue lowly says and Jiang Cheng can tell that he still wants to tell him no.

“One good reason, Mingjue. Give me one good reason why not, especially now that I know. Something apart from your qi deviations.”

“The mission in two days,” Nie Mingjue immediately gives back. “I don’t have a good feeling about it and it’s more than likely that we both won’t survive the war at all.”

“So you just make sure you survive the mission and then we can give this a try, is that what you’re saying.”

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue starts but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“No, tell me,” he begs, because he needs to know if there are other reasons for Nie Mingjue to hold back all this time. “It’s—if you have a problem with me, just tell me that and we can move on, but don’t use these excuses.”

“Why would I have a problem with you?” Nie Mingjue asks and he seems honestly taken off guard by that. “Did you already forget what we just did? Why would I do that if I want nothing to do with you?”

“I don’t know, Mingjue, I’m not the one who willingly stayed away from my soulmate since he was four,” Jiang Cheng bitterly shoots back and Nie Mingjue’s entire face softens.

“Wanyin,” he breathes out and then he offers his hand to Jiang Cheng. “Wanyin, come here,” he cajoles him and Jiang Cheng is helpless but to go to him.

He slides their hands together and when Nie Mingjue tugs him onto the bed, Jiang Cheng snuggles into his side. He can feel that Nie Mingjue is still reluctant, but in the end he puts his arm around Jiang Cheng.

“My father didn’t make a secret out of my fate,” Nie Mingjue admits. “By the time you wrote me that very first time, I already knew I wouldn’t live past 25.”

“It won’t happen,” Jiang Cheng says again, because maybe if he just says it often enough he can will it to become true.

“Maybe,” Nie Mingjue amends and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head. “But back then—I just didn’t want to do that to you. And then you told me your name and suddenly I had a face to go with my soulmate and it honestly just made things so much more difficult. Huaisang kept me updated on you and Xichen couldn’t stop talking about how Lan Qiren likes you and I knew I could only make you unhappy, so I stayed away.”

Nie Mingjue takes a deep breath.

“And then you lost your family, your Sect; even your brother for a while. I wasn’t going to add to that misery.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Jiang Cheng says, and he is honestly a bit choked up, but he will still not allow this. “But I refuse to be coddled. Yes, I already lost everything; I’m not about to lose you, too.”

“This is not something you can out-stubborn,” Nie Mingjue tries, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand why he still simply won’t accept that he’s settled with Jiang Cheng now.

“Did you see the people I brought to this fight? I out-stubborned the destruction of my Sect, your health problem is nothing to me,” he says, much more confident than he really feels, but he’s sure if Nie Mingjue would just give them a chance, they can figure something out.

“God, I adore you so,” Nie Mingjue whispers and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head.

“Then finally accept that I’m your soulmate and that I’m here to stay,” Jiang Cheng bites out, furiously trying to keep the blush off his face, but of course he’s failing.

“After the mission,” Nie Mingjue amends. “After the war. If we survive this—then we can try.”

Jiang Cheng is not happy with that, not at all, but it’s better than anything else he got so far, and so he’ll take it.

“Okay.”

“But promise me that if I don’t make it back that you’ll watch out for everyone. They will need a new leader and Xichen isn’t cut out for this,” Nie Mingjue says.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng gets out, trying to keep his tears back, because Nie Mingjue is already so convinced that he won’t survive this, it’s almost like he’s already dead. “But Wen Ruohan doesn’t get to kill you, too.”

“Okay,” Nie Mingjue soothingly whispers and while Jiang Cheng is aware that there’s still a lot to talk about, he doesn’t resist when Nie Mingjue pulls him down with him again.

They can talk after the war.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when he hears that Nie Mingjue and his people have been caught; the mission was a trap, just like Nie Mingjue feared and now he’s in Wen Ruohan’s hands.

When Jiang Cheng brings a brush with shaking hands to his skin, it almost feels familiar, but in the last second he thinks better of it. He can’t let Wen Ruohan know that Nie Mingjue has a soulmate; the man is already sadistic enough. Who knows what he will come up with to torture Nie Mingjue.

So Jiang Cheng can do nothing more but to trace shapes into his skin over and over again, hoping that Nie Mingjue can feel him.

Apart from that, Jiang Cheng can only fight.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when Meng Yao stabs Wen Ruohan and just like that the war is won.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother to celebrate with the other’s just yet; he needs to find his soulmate first, before he can get to that.

He makes his way into the palace, letting his instincts guide him deeper and deeper inside, until he finally finds the throne room.

Nie Mingjue is there, laid out on the floor, and for a split second Jiang Cheng is afraid that he’s too late; that all of Nie Mingjue’s dark premonitions were true and that this is it for them.

“Mingjue,” he yells, running up to Nie Mingjue and skidding to a stop on his knees right by his side.

He’s almost afraid to touch him, to feel his cold skin, but then Nie Mingjue’s eyelids flutter and Jiang Cheng could sob with relief.

“Mingjue,” he whispers again and pulls Nie Mingjue up, so that he’s laying in his lap.

“Don’t trust him,” Nie Mingjue mutters, turning towards Jiang Cheng. “Meng Yao. Don’t trust him.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng immediately promises him, and if this is important enough for Nie Mingjue to tell him in this state, then he will heed his warning. “I got you now, don’t worry.”

“Didn’t die,” Nie Mingjue says with a small smile, even though Jiang Cheng can tell that he must be in agonizing pain, judging by the wounds all over him.

“No, you didn’t,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and he thanks all the gods for that, as he leans down to press a kiss to Nie Mingjue’s forehead.

“You get your chance, then,” Nie Mingjue says and raises a hand to cup Jiang Cheng’s face. “I didn’t die, so you get to find a way to keep me alive.”

“Done,” Jiang Cheng promises him and covers Nie Mingjue’s hand with his own. “We’ll figure it out.”

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is nineteen when his brother-in-law, his sister and his brother die in quick succession.

He wants to crumble with his grief, but the baby in his arms relies on him to stand and it’s not like Nie Mingjue would let him fall, either.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is twenty-one when he marries Nie Mingjue, and despite how close his grief still is, it’s the happiest day of his life.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is twenty-three when Nie Mingjue starts to suffer qi deviations. While Jiang Cheng hates to see his husband suffer like that, it finally gives him the opportunity to see what the Clarity Bell can do for him, and from then on it’s almost easy for him to figure out how to make it have a permanent effect on Nie Mingjue.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is twenty-six when he and Nie Mingjue adopt a little sister for Jin Ling and when Jiang Cheng looks at the tiny four-year-old held securely in Nie Mingjue’s arms, who’s beaming with happiness, Jiang Cheng wonders what’s in store for her life.

It’s not like he could have ever imagined to end up this happy when he was four and he hopes his daughter will have the same happiness waiting for her.

Dialogue Prompts

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#bt writes #mingcheng #soulmates #hurt/comfort #angst #fluff #getting together #canon-compliant #mostly at least #the untamed #mdzs #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #anon

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antebunny · 3 years

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in the parent trap au, does wwx "kidnap" sizhui from lwj because the jins plan to use sizhui against him? like lwj can't be used because his brother is *vague hand gestures* with jgy, but sizhui is free real estate so they tell him while he's in prison that if he doesn't comply they'll take a-yuan, and he doesn't know who to trust so he takes his son away from his ex-husband?

...so apparently I’m open for asks now. Full series here.

Parent Trap AU 3

Lan Wangji never thought he would ever do something harder than what he did at six, waiting patiently for a chance to see his mother.

He cannot recall how many times he and his brother were reminded by his uncle not to follow in his father’s footsteps. He married Lan Wangji’s mother because spouses cannot be called upon to testify against their spouses, and because he loved her, thus lightening her sentence. Lan Wangji does not know if she ever loved him, only that she was let out on parole, and Lan Xichen was born, after which she broke parole, and eventually was let out on parole again, after which Lan Wangji was born, and then she broke parole again and finally died of disease in prison.

What Lan Wangji can recall are the countless hours he spent thinking of when he would next get to see his mother, what he would tell her about his month, and what she would say through the thick glass that would make his baby cheeks flush bright red until even Lan Xichen teased him about it. What Lan Wangji remembers is every single time a relative–mostly his uncle–used his visitations as a threat to hold over his head. It wasn’t until he and Wei Wuxian adopted Wen Sizhui that he realized how damaging those off-handed comments had been, growing up.

He never should have been denied the right to see his mother for getting fingerpaint on the walls.

That’s what Lan Wangji thinks as he picks up Lan Sizhui, his chubby cheeks stained with snot and tears. Sizhui wails loudly in his ear, but Lan Wangji ignores it in favor of staring at his uncle, who stares back, unrepentant. They’re standing in the foyer of Lan Xichen’s home, and Lan Xichen stands behind Uncle, for once unable to reduce or resolve the tension in the room.

“Sizhui,” Lan Wangji says calmly. “What happened?”

Lan Sizhui hiccups loudly. “G-g-great-uncle s-said that I can’t see Papa!” His son wails, fisting the hem of Lan Wangji’s shirt with his stubby fingers. “B-because I w-wasn’t g-g-good!”

Lan Wangji is the one who has final say over whether Lan Sizhui will get to visit Wei Ying, but he knows that explaining so to Lan Sizhui is useless. Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji were never actually denied their monthly visit, but the threat of it scared Lan Wangji into smaller and smaller shapes.

Lan Wangji narrows his eyes at his uncle, doing his best to draw on the ice-cold glare that Wei Ying claims he has. “Wei Ying is innocent,” Lan Wangji says flatly.

“Wangji, please,” Lan Xichen says, pained. “Not this again.”

“That mongrel is the furthest thing from innocent!” Uncle shouts.

Lan Wangji presses his lips into a thin white line, reminding himself not to lose it in front of his four-year-old son. He doesn’t close his eyes, but in his mind’s eye he sees Wei Ying before the trial, thin and pale and shaking.

“I didn’t do it,” Wei Ying had said, beseeching Lan Wangji with large, wet eyes. “Lan Zhan, please believe me. I didn’t. I love you. I love you.”

And Lan Wangji had reached out, covering Wei Ying’s shaking hand with his own, and said; “I know.”

Lan Wangji never, never turned his back on his husband. Cannot even imagine it. Which is why doing exactly that is the hardest thing he’s ever done.

His uncle will not stop. There is nothing that Lan Wangji can say or do that will convince Lan Qiren not to shout the same threats at Lan Sizhui that he did to Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen. And the fact is, he needs his uncle. Lan Wangji chose not to follow the corporate path of his forefathers, content to leave Lan Enterprises to Lan Xichen and pursue his heart’s passion in music, and later in Wei Ying. Now that Wei Ying is in prison, Lan Wangji is ashamed to say that he needs his family’s support in order to support Lan Sizhui. The salary of a classical music tutor simply doesn’t cover it, and he does not have Wei Ying’s salary to support him anymore. He cannot cut his uncle out of his life, and Lan Wangji will not put his son through what he went through at the same age.

Which leaves only one option for Lan Wangji.

He cannot convince Lan Sizhui that he will never have to be “good enough” to visit his father. All he can do is the reverse, and teach Lan Sizhui that there is no amount of “good enough” that will let him visit his father.

And he will have to tell Wei Ying himself, because Wei Ying deserves to hear it from him. He knows that Wei Ying would make the same choice in his place, and put their son’s well-being over his. That doesn’t make doing it any easier. That doesn’t change the fact that it is Lan Wangji who must do it.

So Lan Wangji does.

When he gets back to the house he once shared with Wei Ying, the first thing he does is cancel all his lessons for next week. Then he puts away his guqin, his cello, and his violin, and sits down by his piano. And then he begins to sing, and pulls out every shard of his shattering, broken heart one note at a time.

#mdzs #lan wangji #the untamed #antebunny's ficlets #Parent Trap AU #my writing #writeblr #lan sizhui #i was going to explain myself again but then i thought #i should just write it #bc i ain't a coward #take that Papaya

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stiltonbasket · 3 years

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Renouncement verse, jc bonds with his niblings. Jc forced on a misadventure with lz and reflects on those 3 months during the war and their changed relationship to each other (reminding him of his other bro in law), possible beginings of friendship? Sect leader yao get reckt? People reminded that wwx is incredibly kind just as he is incredibly badass? Love ur stories! :D

(author’s note: please please reblog if you can, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

“I want to get out of here,” Lan Wangji growls. “We have been stuck for almost a full shichen.”

“We’re not in any danger,” Jiang Cheng points out, rolling his eyes. The two of them have been stuck in the lair of a spider demon for the last two hours, trapped by its resentful webs even after they gored it through the head and ripped its legs off; but the webs dissipate by themselves about four or five hours after the death of yaoguai that made them, so he and Lan Wangji just have to wait until they can get out.

Oddly enough, Jiang Cheng had thought that Lan Wangji would be much better at waiting.

“I know we are not in danger,” his brother-in-law hisses—and isn’t that a kicker, knowing that he and Lan Wangji are technically related now. “I have a family to return to. We cannot stay here doing nothing until the webs disappear.”

“If we use our lingli to get ourselves out, we’ll exhaust ourselves, and it’ll take twice as long for you to get back to the Cloud Recesses. Just stay put and stop complaining.”

“If we use our lingli, I will at least be able to get a message to Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji snaps. “The little one may be coming now, for all I know! And Wei Ying will worry, besides!”

“He wasn’t even expecting you back until tomorrow,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, turning his back on him. “It was your idea to come here at night. We were going to speak to the villagers in the afternoon and start work in the morning.”

“That would have kept us away from home for an extra half-day.”

“Believe it or not, the Cloud Recesses can run itself perfectly well without you. Your brother can manage by himself for a night, and so can Wei Wuxian.”

The look Lan Wangji gives him is so poisonous that it would have made the spider yaoguai proud. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Jiang Cheng returns, turning back to face Lan Wangji with his arms crossed over his chest. “Stop thinking that something’s going to happen to my brother because you’re not there. He can take care of himself.”

A shadow of mingled grief and anger passes over Lan Wangji’s eyes, and Jiang Cheng tries not to feel guilty at the sight of it. After all, Lan Wangji doesn’t have to say that Wei Ying has been taking care of himself since before the Sunshot Campaign—he was thrown into Luanzung Gang without a golden core to protect him, taught himself resentful cultivation and overthrew Wen Ruohan with it, and then he fled to the Burial Mounds and kept fifty people fed and clothed with his own labor while keeping them safe from the Jins at the same time.

Wei Wuxian is so used to taking care of himself that he didn’t know how to accept it when his own lawful husband tried to assure him that he no longer had to worry for his future, or the futures of the children they have together.

“I was already making plans to take myself out of the way after Lan Zhan found someone he really loved,” his brother told him once, after Jiang Cheng received word about the coming baby and flew to the Cloud Recesses to see if it was true. “I was hoping he wouldn’t until Xiao-Yu came of age, but separations do happen in the Cloud Recesses, and you put that divorce clause into our betrothal contract. It’s stupid, but even though I know now that he’s loved me all along, I...I still don’t know how to feel it’s true sometimes.”

“Is he not taking care of you?” Jiang Cheng had demanded, his hackles already rising in fury at the thought of Wei Wuxian’s husband making him feel abandoned. “I’ll have words with him if he is, you—”

“A-Cheng,” Wei Wuxian chided. “It’s not like that.” And then he had gestured around him to the fluffy pillows and blankets layered all over his body and the vials of medicine at the bedside table, before casting a pointed eye at his own reflection in the mirror. “Xichen-ge said that such worries are normal with a child on the way, and I wasn’t so—well, worried—before the autumn. It should pass, and there are healers who train for that sort of thing if it doesn’t.”

That sort of thing might be why Lan Wangji is so desperate to return to Wei Wuxian now, if Jiang Cheng looks a little further than his brother-in-law’s point-blank refusal to let Wei Wuxian out of his sight ever since Mo Xuanyu brought him back to life about a year and a half ago. His brother hasn’t been well lately, what with being kidnapped right before he found out about A-Lan and the stress that the chilly Gusu winter had placed on his coreless body, and he doesn’t exactly have a good track record for keeping out of trouble whenever Lan Wangji is away from him.

And the last time Lan Wangji was forcibly separated from Wei Wuxian, he and Jiang Cheng spent three months searching for him everywhere from Yunmeng to Qishan, forced into partnership by fear and hope and everything in between, and still half-certain that they would find nothing but a body when their search was over.

“Get Bichen and start chopping,” Jiang Cheng says abruptly, yanking Sandu out of its sheath and wincing as he feels the spiritual drain when it slashes a piece of web in two. “I’ll take the right, you take the front. We should be out in half an hour.”

Neither of them have enough lingli to travel back by sword, so they rent a pair of horses from a chain stable-owner and set their course back towards Gusu; the spider yao’s nest was in Moling, and Lan Wangji was obliged to attend to the matter as Excellency, and Jiang Cheng came along because he happened to be visiting the Cloud Recesses. Six hours later, they drop the horses off at the first chain stable they can find, and then they make their way through Caiyi town and up into the mountains.

“I want to see my brother,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, holding up the package of beef bones he bought on the journey. “You’re taking care of him properly, I know, but—I just want to see him. And my niece.”

Lan Wangji lifts his eyebrow at him, but then his whole face softens as Wei Wuxian comes running down the path with Xiao-Yu in his arms, so delighted to see them both that his face seems to be lit by a tiny sun from within.

“Lan Zhan!” he calls, leaping into Lan Wangji’s embrace and kissing him until Xiao-Yu starts wriggling in discomfort between them. “How are you, love? You didn’t have any trouble, did you?”

Lan Wangji shakes his head and returns Wei Wuxian’s kisses just as fervently, and then Wei Wuxian turns to Jiang Cheng and beams, hugging him so tightly that the breath flies out of his chest with a gasp.

“Will you stay until tomorrow, Jiang Cheng?” Wei Wuxian asks, taking his hand and wrapping his other arm around Lan Wangji’s waist, while Xiao-Yu scrambles up onto Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “A-Hong just sent word saying that you haven’t had any summons today, so I thought…”

Jiang Cheng nods. He can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes at the warmth in his brother’s voice, and the lump in his throat does not leave until much later that evening, when he goes to bed in one of the guest houses and stares up at the ceiling in an effort to fall asleep.

But then Lan Jingyi bursts into his room just before midnight, and drags him out of the guest house and up towards the infirmary. “What’s wrong?” Jiang Cheng demands, the moment he catches his breath. “Wei Wuxian—he’s not—”

“It’s happening!” Jingyi screeches. “Wei-qianbei asked for you, and Zewu-jun’s already started passing him spiritual energy—”

Jiang Cheng nearly faints dead away on the spot when Jingyi finally drags him into the healing ward and shows him to Wei Wuxian’s room.

He’s about to become a jiujiu again.

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wangxian arranged marriage au #renouncement verse

165 notes · View notes

irisandlily · 4 years

Text

another thing i wrote for my wangxian hogwarts au!! once again in wen qing’s pov, we get the infamous wei wuxian punching jin zixuan scene and some jiang siblings and soup afterwards!

-----

Wen Qing is leaving Ancient Runes with Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli when she sees several students run by them. They yell about a fight breaking out between two students in the northern courtyard.

“Apparently one of them is Jin Zixuan!” Wen Qing’s eyes narrow at this, wondering who would be picking aa fight with Jin Zixuan, and quickly realizes only one student would be stupid enough to get into a fight with Jin Zixuan.

“Yanli!” Luo Qingyang runs down the hall, panic apparent on her face, and stops in front of Jiang Yanli. “Hurry- Wei Wuxian-” Luo Qingyang rushes, “He picked a fight with Zixuan!” Lan Wangji has already rushed past them, and Wen Qing and the others follow after him.

A crowd of students are gathered around Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan. Jin Zixuan is being held back by two Gryffindor students, and Wei Wuxian is being held back by Jiang Wanyin, Wen Ning, and multiple of their fellow Ravenclaw housemates.

“I’ll beat you to death!” Wei Wuxian yells at Jin Zixuan, wand in hand as he struggles against the people holding him back, attempting to kick at Jin Zixuan. “I’ll beat you to death!”

“Wei Wuxian!” Jin Zixuan also struggles against the two holding him back.

Lan Wangji pushes through the crowd with minimal effort and grabs Wei Wuxian by the arm. “Stop, Wei Ying.”

“Don’t stop me Lan Zhan! Let me go!” Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli push through the crowd as well, Jiang Yanli grabbing Wei Wuxian by the shoulder.

“A-Xian!” she calls his name as he continues to struggle against the others, “A-Xian!” her hands move to arms and she grips them, managing to stop him from struggling and he stills, as Jin Zixuan does the same and the crowd quiets down.

“I heard Jin Zixuan look down on Jiang Yanli.” a Ravenclaw student speaks up, and Wen Qing has to help Jiang Yanli stop Wei Wuxian from attacking Jin Zixuan by gripping his wrist, so he doesn’t try to hex the Gryffindor. “He wants to break the engagement. Wei Wuxian is defending his sister.”

Jiang Yanli glances back briefly, but the hurt is evident on her face. She turns her attention back to Wei Wuxian, and Wen Qing let’s go of his wrist as Jiang Yanli smoothes out his Ravenclaw robes. “A-Xian- let’s go.” she takes him by the hand and leads him away, and Wen Qing can see the absolute fury on his sister’s behalf as he all but glowers at Jin Zixuan as he leaves, with Jiang Cheng following them.

“What is going on here?!” the crowd disperses almost immediately as the Headmaster arrives. Luo Qingyang has a hand on Jin Zixuan's arm. Wen Qing, her brother, and Lan Wangji are standing with them in the middle of the courtyard.

The Headmaster fixes them all with a pointed stare. “Well?”

“Wei Wuxian got into a fight with Jin Zixuan.” Wen Qing tells her because there isn’t a point in lying. Not when the bruise on Jin Zixuan's face is evidence enough, and their shouting was loud enough to attract even the Headmaster to investigate.

“Where is Mister Wei?”

“He left with his siblings.” Luo Qingyang answers. “Professor-”

“Miss Luo, Mister Jin, please come with me to my office. I will need an account from the both of you about what happened.” she pauses, addressing the other three. “Were you three involved as well?” Wen Qing and Lan Wangji shake their heads.

“I saw the fight start.” Wen Ning timidly says, “And I was here throughout it.”

“Then you come along too, Mister Wen.” she turns to Wen Qing and Lan Wangji. “You two please find Mister Wei and his siblings and bring them to my office.”

“Yes, Headmaster.” Lan Wangji says, and the Headmaster nods her head and leaves, the other three follow after her.

“I knew something like this would happen sooner or later.” Wen Qing sighs, “Where do you think they went?”

“I’m not sure.” Lan Wangji answers, “Perhaps the Gryffindor common room.”

“Neither of us knows how to get in.”

“...”

They head back into the castle, and when they enter the entrance hall, Lan Wangji comes to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” Wen Qing asks and follows his gaze. She has to squint at first, but she sees a flash of yellow maneuvering across the floor. A little paperman dodges the feet of passing students and Lan Wangji walks over to it immediately, bending down and holding out a hand, allowing the paperman to jump onto his hand.

“What is that?”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji stands up, “Something he was working on last month.”

“Huh.” Wen Qing stares at it, poking its face with a finger. It immediately swats at her. “How does it work?”

“Wei Ying transferred a piece of his consciousness to it.” Lan Wangji answers.

“So a mini, less annoying Wei Wuxian.” paperman Wei Wuxian stomps his foot in protest.

“Wei Ying, are you in the Gryffindor common room?” paperman Wei Wuxian shakes his head, “The Ravenclaw common room?” he shakes his head again and points to their left, where a flight of stone steps are located leading to the dungeons. “The… kitchens?” paperman Wei Wuxian nods his head, jumping up and down in confirmation. Lan Wangji and Wen Qing head down the stone steps and enter the brightly lit corridor that leads to the kitchens and Hufflepuff common room.

They stop in front of a large painting of a silver bowl of fruit, and Lan Wangji lifts his hand higher for the paperman, who tickles the pear in the portrait, and it turns into a large green door handle. He pulls the handle and the portrait swings open, revealing the kitchens. They step into the gigantic high-ceilinged room, and Wen Qing takes a moment to survey it.

Pots and pans hang on the walls, sitting in piles on the floor, on the stoves and countertops. On the other side of the room, is a large brick fireplace, and four long tables, identical to the ones in the Great Hall. House-elves go back and forth, preparing dinner. Many of them offer her and Lan Wangji something to eat, but they politely refuse.

Sitting at the end of one of the tables is Wei Wuxian, who has an elbow propped up onto the table, his head resting in his hand, with his eyes closed.

Lan Wangji walks over and holds his hand down for the paperman to return to his body, but the paperman seems to have other plans. Wen Qing watches with amusement as paperman Wei Wuxian travels up Lan Wangji’s arm and jumps onto his head.

“Do not fool around.” Lan Wangji says, holding his hand up and paperman Wei Wuxian jumps back on it and blows a kiss to Lan Wangji, who’s expression remains as serious as ever, but Wen Qing can see his ears turning pink. The paperman jumps down onto the table and latches itself onto Wei Wuxian’s arm, and a few seconds later the paperman goes limp and Wei Wuxian opens his eyes.

“Lan Zhan.” he smiles, and Wen Qing cannot believe Lan Wangji doesn’t see how utterly smitten Wei Wuxian is with him. His smile is so full of fondness for the Hufflepuff that Wen Qing has (on more than one occasion), left the room because of it. The same could be said with Wei Wuxian though, who, despite being Lan Wangji’s best friend, is unable to discern how the Hufflepuff feels for him.

“He barely started tolerating me until last year Qing-Jie! There’s no way he likes me the way I like him!”

Wen Qing remembers that conversation and had simply rolled her eyes and told Wei Wuxian not to involve her in whatever problems he had with his romantic life.

“Headmaster asked us to find you and your siblings.” Lan Wangji says, and Wei Wuxian’s smile turns into a frown.

“I’m guessing she found out about me punching the peacock huh?"

“You caused a racket.” Wen Qing reminds him, “So many students were shouting and running over to see you guys fight.”

“You should not have-”

“I know I know I shouldn’t have punched him.” Wei Wuxian says before Lan Wangji can finish his sentence. “But Lan Zhan! If you had been there even you wouldn’t have scolded me! I couldn’t let him get away with what he said about jiejie!”

“Where are your brother and sister anyway?” she asks, and he gestures to his left. Jiang Yanli and Jiang Wanyin are at the very end of the room, in front of one of the stoves, talking in hushed fervent whispers as Jiang Yanli waves her wand, carrying ingredients into a large pot.

“We don’t have to go to Headmaster’s office yet do we? Jiejie is making her lotus pork rib soup!” Wei Wuxian makes a pleading face at Lan Wangji.

“Okay.” Lan Wangji agrees almost immediately, and Wei Wuxian cheers as Lan Wangji sits down next to him. He turns to Wen Qing, who holds a hand up immediately.

“Don’t even think about making that face at me.” she says, “I’ve been stuck living in the same space as you for four years. I’m immune to your bullshit.”

“Qing-Jie!” he whines, and she rolls her eyes before taking the seat across from him. Jiang Yanli and Jiang Wanyin walk over to the end of the table and Jiang Yanli serves them soup. They talk about classes as they eat (everyone except Lan Wangji of course), and Wei Wuxian begins asking them questions about their Ancient Runes class.

“Why didn’t you take Ancient Runes if you’re so interested in the subject?”

“Because Wen Qing!” he answers, as if his reason is obvious. “Old man Qiren hates me.”

“Uncle does not hate you.” Wei Wuxian shoots Lan Wangji a look. “Uncle is just not used to someone as innovative like yourself.”

“Lan Zhan, I adore that you think so highly of me, but I am an absolute menace. A ‘hazard to wizarding society’ as he put it.”

“You’re a hazard to yourself.” Jiang Wanyin retorts, and Wen Qing nods her head in agreement. Wei Wuxian picks up a bread roll (courtesy of the kitchen’s house-elves) and throws it at his brother. The bread roll bounces off of Jiang Wanyin’s face harmlessly. “You-!” Wei Wuxian sticks his tongue out at him, to which Jiang Wanyin shoves a bread roll in his mouth in retaliation.

“Boys please.” Jiang Yanli says with a barely concealed smile and amusement, giggling even as Wei Wuxian spits out the bread roll and attempts to shove it at Jiang Wanyin.

Next time, I’ll ask if A-Ning can join us.

Wen Qing takes another sip of the soup, sharing an amused glance with Lan Wangji at the siblings’ antics.

16 notes · View notes

moonwaif · 4 years

Text

Upon Reflection

Summary: After nearly a year of pining on his lonesome, Wei Wuxian returns to the Cloud Recesses when a suspicious attempt is made on Lan Wangji's life. While keeping his feelings for Lan Wangji a secret, staying out of trouble (mostly) and trying to be a decent teacher (debatable), it doesn't seem like Wei Wuxian's life could get any more difficult.

Then one morning he wakes up in Lan Wangji's body.

Aka, the post-episode 50 CQL body swap AU you need in your life.

Tags: Body Swap AU, Mutual Pining, WWX has one brain cell, instead of OCs I'm borrowing SVSSS characters, CQL Verse, might mess around and resurrect some people

Rating: T

Excerpt:

“Speaking of Hanguang Jun, what’s his opinion on all of this? Does he even know you two are here?”

Jingyi and Sizhui share another look, and this time it’s guilty. Wei Wuxian chuckles softly, a bitter taste in his mouth. As if Lan Wangji would ever send his disciples out to fetch Wei Wuxian and bring him back to the Cloud Recesses, like some lonely prince in a fairytale romance. If he wanted Wei Wuxian’s help, Lan Wangji would have sought him out himself, instead of letting the months slip past by the handful without so much as a word.

“We left without telling him,” Sizhui admits, “but we had to. You see . . .”

“See what?” Wei Wuxian asks, when it becomes apparent he’s not going to finish. Sizhui glances at Jingyi, who after a few seconds rolls his eyes and nods reluctantly. Sizhui swallows, then speaks.

“Three days ago, Hanguang Jun fainted.”

After parting from Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian deliberately avoids the Cloud Recesses. He’s too brash, too lascivious, too everything for that place. Going back would only spell trouble. Apparently the Cloud Recesses don’t feel the same way, however, because eventually the Cloud Recesses go looking for him.

He’s in a little town just outside of Yueling when the voice calls out to him: “Master Wei!”

Wei Wuxian turns, smiling as soon as he sees the face it belongs to. “A-yuan! What are you doing here?”

Lan Sizhui beams. Beside him, a typically sour-faced Lan Jingyi crosses his arms.

“What am I, chopped meat?” he grumbles.

“Oh, sorry! It’s good to see you too, Jingyi.”

“Master Wei,” Sizhui exclaims, approaching, “we’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Is that so? Then you must be tired. Come on--let’s find a place to sit, and you can tell me about everything you’ve been up to.”

They choose a small restaurant close to the town’s entrance--one of the few public places available in the vicinity. Wei Wuxian manages to dodge most of their questions. What has he been doing over the past year? Oh, traveling here or there with Little Apple, going on the occasional night hunt, enjoying his newfound free and easy life. What about them? Have they heard from Wen Ning? How is everyone at the Cloud Recesses? Zewu Jun and the others, are they doing well?

How about Hanguang Jun?

At this question, Jingyi and Sizhui share an uneasy look. Wei Wuxian's gaze sharpens.

"What?" he asks, glancing between them. "Why are you making that face? What's happened?"

"No reason," Jingyi says quickly, and Wei Wuxian could swear that he feels him kick Sizhui under the table. "He's just busy with a lot of new initiatives."

A spot of warmth blossoms in Wei Wuxian’s chest, replacing the momentary anxiety. “Typical Hanguang Jun. What's he got planned?"

"He is opening the Cloud Recesses back up for lecture," Sizhui answers. "In just eight days, all sects will send their disciples to study cultivation methods.”

“Not all the sects,” Jingyi clarifies, and there it is again--the uneasiness. “But most of them, anyway.”

Wei Wuxian nods thoughtfully. “So the sects are willing to send disciples again, huh? That’s good. Hanguang Jun is wise to bring the clans back together that way.”

“Yes,” Sizhui agrees. “But, um . . .”

Wei Wuxian looks at him expectantly. Sizhui takes a deep breath.

“You see, the thing is, Master Wei . . .”

“We think you’d make a great teacher,” Jingyi finishes.

Wei Wuxian’s jaw drops. “Huh?”

Sizhui seems to sense that they’ve caught him in a moment of weakness, because he launches in full force.

“Your knowledge and innovation in talismans could be a great resource for students. Additionally, your experience and methods in deduction could really help the disciples when they are first learning how to do night hunts.”

“And the younger generation likes you,” Jingyi adds. “If you go, you’ll definitely be popular with the students.”

“Er, guys,” Wei Wuxian says weakly. “I’m flattered, but haven’t you heard the stories about when I was in the Cloud Recesses? I was a terrible student. I really don’t fit in there.”

“Your unconventionality is what will make you unique as an instructor,” Sizhui says, and Wei Wuxian can tell that he must have planned that line with Jingyi during the journey from Gusu.

“Maybe, I guess. I don’t really know anything about teaching.”

Besides, how could he teach cultivation when he didn't even have a golden core?

“You were a great teacher before!” Sizhui insists, and for a split-second Wei Wuxian is almost worried he read his thoughts. “Back when we were working together to escape from the Burial Mounds, you explained everything so well. All of the young people really understood and liked you.”

“Yeah but what about their parents?” Wei Wuxian counters. “If you announce that I’m going to be there--which I won’t be, by the way, because I’m not going--no one will want to send their kids to the Cloud Recesses. They’ll think it’s bad luck, or that I’m going to teach something unorthodox. Even worse, what if I attract unsavory disciples who just want to learn about demonic cultivation? That really won’t look good for the Gusu Lan sect."

“You’ll have the approval of his Excellency, Hanguang Jun,” Jingyi says calmly. “His word will be enough.”

Wei Wuxian's eyes narrow. “Speaking of Hanguang Jun, what’s his opinion on all of this? Does he even know you two are here?”

“We left without telling him,” Sizhui admits, “but we had to. You see . . .”

“See what?” Wei Wuxian asks, when it becomes apparent he’s not going to finish.

Sizhui glances at Jingyi, who after a few seconds rolls his eyes and nods reluctantly. Sizhui swallows, then speaks.

“Three days ago, Hanguang Jun fainted.”

---

They say that time changes everything, so why is it that visiting the Cloud Recesses feels like a journey to the past?

There are some marks of change. The reconstructed buildings, a memorial here and there for those who gave their lives defending the Cloud Recesses from the Wen clan. But it’s the same tranquility, the same warmth and sense of safety, that almost has Wei Wuxian believing that at any moment Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang are going to round the corner laughing, ready to pull him off on another misadventure.

Maybe the Cloud Recesses haven’t changed, but Wei Wuxian has.

The heart inside him is certainly different as he gazes at Lan Wangji's silhouette through the screened window, arms moving gracefully as the gentle tones of the guqin drift on the night breeze. Once upon a time, Wei Wuxian was willing to do anything to catch the eye of the Second Jade of Lan. Whether it was playing the clown, showing-off his martial skills or even risking his own safety, he never once felt shy about it. Now, over a decade later, just thinking about talking to Lan Wangji is making his stomach tie up in knots.

It’s been almost a year since he and Lan Wangji officially parted. During that year, they only met once or twice, when Lan Wangji surprised him with a visit. The visits had been brief, but there was a moment when Lan Wangji looked at him, pinned him with a dark, trembling gaze, and in that instant Wei Wuxian truly believed that he was going to invite him back to the Cloud Recesses. But he hadn't. Lan Wangji merely left with the promise to visit again soon, and then never came back.

Wei Wuxian isn’t bitter. It makes sense that Lan Wangji’s path would lead away from him, to a place of glory and light. A place where he probably doesn’t have time for the troublesome, complicated life of Wei Wuxian.

But now, as he watches Lan Wangji through the screen, head bowed, the familiar melody somewhat lonely and melancholy, Wei Wuxian feels like an ass.

He should have been checking up on Lan Wangji.

“Hanguang Jun was injured several months ago,” Sizhui had explained back in the restaurant at Yueling. "Afterwards, he secluded himself and went to cultivate in Cold Pool Cave. When he returned, he seemed to have healed. But as the leader of the four sects, he has many responsibilities. He was working so much, and going on night hunts, and then preparing for the lectures--he never got time to rest. Finally, just a few days ago, he collapsed. Jingyi and I overheard him talking with Zewu Jun. The doctors want him to rest, but with the lectures starting, there’s no time. He’s already committed to taking on the lion’s share of the classes. We’re worried that with all of his obligations, his condition will only get worse.”

Outside of Lan Wangji’s window, Wei Wuxian sighs. 'Lan Zhan,' he thinks. 'You really never change, huh.'

He watches for a few moments longer, then removes Chenqing from his belt. He raises the flute to his lips, waits for the right opening in the song, then softly blows.

The guqin goes silent.

The silhouette doesn't move once as Wei Wuxian plays. It sits, still as a statue, until the song finishes. Wei Wuxian waits until the last notes dissipate in the air, then lowers the flute.

"Lan Zhan, are you ready to tell me the name of that song?"

"Wei Ying."

The words are quiet, but once uttered send a smile spreading across Wei Wuxian's face. It doesn't last long. The shoulders of that silhouette suddenly tense, then spasm in time with deep, guttural coughs.

Wei Wuxian moves quickly. “Lan Zhan,” he calls, opening the door, “I’m coming in!”

The look Lan Wangji shoots him from across the room is bewildered, but he’s too busy coughing into his sleeve to say anything. Wei Wuxian rushes over, crouching beside him, one hand unconsciously settling on the spot between Lan Wangji's shoulder blades.

He’s beautiful as always, Wei Wuxian thinks, in that heavenly, elegant way that could make one believe he stepped out of a poem or a painting. If it wasn’t for the faint circles beneath his eyes, the sheen on his forehead, or the pallor of his cheeks, Wei Wuxian probably wouldn’t even notice anything off. He reaches for Lan Wangji's wrist, feeling his pulse. His brow furrows. He lets go of the wrist and quickly moves his fingers to the acupoints on Lan Wangji's chest.

He doesn't need to be an expert healer to know that something is wrong with the energy circulating in Lan Wangji's body.

"Lan Zhan," he murmurs, face darkening. "What is this?"

Lan Wangji coughs a few more times, then pauses, catching his breath. At last he lowers his sleeve. His eyes meet Wei Wuxian’s.

“Wei Ying, why are you here?”

He actually has the audacity to sound a little bit worried--as if Wei Wuxian has appeared because he’s gotten caught up in another dangerous situation and needs his help. Wei Wuxian leans back, suddenly angry.

“Because of you, that’s why! You shouldn’t make your disciples worry so much!”

Lan Wangji drops his gaze. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! Don't you know Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi came all the way to Yueling looking for me? All because of you!"

“They did what ?”

Crap. Wei Wuxian didn’t mean to get them in trouble. He waves it away hurriedly. “Whatever, whatever, never mind that. Anyway, what's going on? How come your energy's so . . . stagnant like this? Is that why you went to cultivate in Cold Pool Cave, to balance things out?"

Lan Wangji’s expression shifts imperceptibly, growing a little sad, a little embarrassed.

"Poison," he says at last.

Understanding creeps over Wei Wuxian like nausea. "You mean that injury you received all those months ago--"

Lan Wangji nods. "Poisoned."

Panic seizes Wei Wuxian like a greedy ghost. “But there’s something we can do, right? What did the doctor say?”

“It’s not lethal,” Lan Wangji replies calmly, and Wei Wuxian’s shoulders relax. “But periodically, the flow of energy is interrupted.”

“Periodically. So like, only sometimes, when you’ve been using a lot of energy, right?”1

“Mhm.”

Wei Wuxian bites his lip thoughtfully. “I see. And the cure?”

"None."1

“Bullshit! There’s gotta be something. Check the Forbidden Library."

“We searched there. So far, nothing.”

“A poison that’s not even in the Forbidden Library? Lan Zhan, no matter how I think about it, this is really just too suspicious. Where were you when it happened?”

“A village, north of Xietang2. Night hunt.”

“Who sent you there?”

“Rumors. A ghost, disappearances on the western bridge. But when we arrived . . .” Lan Wangji looks up. His face is grave. “A demon.”

Every single warning signal in Wei Wuxian’s mind is blaring. A demon in a small village with an extremely rare poison, who Lan Wangji, the newly appointed Chief Cultivator, just happened to encounter?

“How did it poison you?” he asks.

“Its blade.”

Wei Wuxian wants to know more, but Lan Wangji suddenly lets out a stifled, dry cough. The sound shakes Wei Wuxian to the core.

The questions can wait.

“Now that I’m here you should just rest, okay?" he says soothingly. "Focus on getting better. I’ll be here to help out, so don’t worry about anything. Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

The hand on Lan Wangji’s back slips over his shoulder as Wei Wuxian prepares to raise them both up. Lan Wangji, however, remains seated.

“You’re staying?” he asks incredulously.

“Of course I’m staying! You really think I’d let you start that lecture series without me? Someone has to make sure the lessons are at least a little bit interesting, or the Gusu Lan sect will have all of those poor kids bored to death!"

Besides, if there really is someone who has it in for Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian is going to stick around and make sure they don’t get their way.

Lan Wangji straightens. “Then, a room--”

“Zewu Jun already prepared one for me. He set me up in the Silent Room.” Probably because it’s farther away, Wei Wuxian thinks. He’ll cause less problems out at the Shadow Bamboo Pavilion. Not that Wei Wuxian is complaining. The moments he spent in that room were warm and comforting, even if they took place during one of the most difficult times of his life. It has nothing to do with the fact it used to be Lan Wangji's old room, or anything.

The lines around Lan Wangji’s mouth soften. This time, he allows Wei Wuxian to lead him to the bed. Wei Wuxian waits until he’s settled before speaking.

“Do you need anything?”

“No.”

Wei Wuxian clenches and unclenches his fists awkwardly, then straightens. “All right, then. Sleep well, Lan Zhan. We'll talk later."

He turns and is about to step away, when Lan Wangji’s voice stops him.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian's heart trembles behind a tightening smile. He waits for Lan Wangji to continue, to say, 'I missed you.' 'I missed you like you missed me.' 'Stay with me.' 'Come to bed.'

“Thank you," Lan Wanji says.

Wei Wuxian wants to laugh at himself.

“Lan Wangji, you already know words like ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m sorry’ are unnecessary between us."

Something like a smile crosses Lan Wangji’s face, and he looks away. “Mm."

Wei Wuxian watches him for a moment longer, waits until Lan Wangji's eyes slip shut, and leaves. His stomach is heavy with worry and guilt. To think, this whole time he's been feeling sorry for himself because Lan Wangji hasn't come to visit. Meanwhile, Lan Wangji has been cultivating in isolation, struggling to suppress the poison in his body while still managing his duties as leader of the clans. Now that he knows the truth, Wei Wuxian feels like the biggest jerk alive. He sighs as he shuts the door, and swears a solemn vow.

He’s going to make it up to Lan Wangji. This time, he’s going to be the one doing the protecting, the one doing the aiding. And this time, he definitely, most certainly, absolutely will not cause Lan Zhan any problems.

TBC . . .

Footnotes:

1. This is basically just MXTX's "no cure" poison from SVSSS. (The cure will not necessarily be the same)

2. Xietang is a previous name for Xitang, one of the water towns in Jiashan county. (Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xitang)

#wangxian #the untamed #cql #cheng qing ling #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #fanfic #wwx #lwj #my stuff

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sssrha · 4 years

Text

The Long Way ‘Round

Both Sects announced that they’d be holding funerals. That is, separate funerals. Ouyang Zizhen wasn’t impulsive; he put a great deal of thought into his next actions. The Lan Sect was such a mess that sneaking into the Cloud Recesses was concerningly easy. Koi Tower had been a bit harder, but Ouyang Zizhen wasn’t the third-ranked cultivator for nothing.

He placed their bodies right next to each other, and he smiled at them both. “Soon,” he promised, “you can rest. Just hang in there for a bit, alright?”

Neither of them answered.

Or: After the deaths of his two best friends whose only crime was daring to love each other, Ouyang Zizhen takes their bodies and goes in search of a proper resting place. He meets a little ghost boy and a somewhat insane Sect Leader, and nothing seems to get better.

Read it below or on AO3.

Ouyang Zizhen’s first memory is of his father calling him a disgrace. “Unholy child!” the Sect Leader of the BalingOuyang spat. “Smearing our honor! Look at what you’ve done!” Ouyang Zizhen looked to his mother, begging her to speak up for him, but she ignored him. At least she wasn’t yelling, too.

The doctor, however, didn’t have any reservations about speaking against the Sect Leader. “He has no control over it,” the woman insisted. “He didn’t choose to be allergic to spiritual grass.”

“I’m no idiot—but we’re cultivators! If he can’t handle spiritual grass, what does that mean for us? He’s my only offspring!”

“He can cultivate,” the doctor assured. “Just have him stay away from spiritual grass.” She paused before repeating, “It won’t affect his cultivation.” She said it insistently. Sect Leader Ouyang finally stood down, leaving the room in a flourish of robes after throwing a quick glare at his son.

Ouyang Zizhen was four. “No spiritual grass?” he asked the doctor quietly.

She nodded. “Don’t go near them, Young Master Ouyang. They’ll hurt you very badly.”

Later, he learns that contact with them is deadly for him. Later, he remembers his father taking him to a garden after that conversation. He doesn’t remember what happened in that garden, but he remembers his mother’s barely-hidden devastation when he woke up in the infirmary, and the silent rage on the doctor’s face.

He thinks he knows what happened in the garden, and he realizes that his so-called “elders” are all too set in their ways to be kind and compassionate—to be decent human beings. He isn’t shocked when someone else suffers from their narrow-mindedness. Instead, he bows his head and cries.

***

Ouyang Zizhen’s eyes are drooping with exhaustion, but he keeps on going. In the morning, he’ll find somewhere to rest—somewhere where no one will find him or his carriage. Somewhere safe from their mindless hatred and violence.

His carriage is plain and unimpressive, as are his clothes, and his horse is not one from the BalingOuyang’s stables. He gathered all of these in secret, on his own, and no one knows anything of them. In his head, he thinks, ‘Who would I be, if this were a play?’ The role of the star-crossed lovers is already taken and he certainly isn’t the main character. He wonders if he’s even anyone of note, or if he’s just someone who shows up at the last minute to do a nice thing. He wonders if he’d be in the play at all. Maybe, the writers would just leave it at the tragic ending—Ouyang Zizhen certainly isn’t going to add anything of value to it.

Oh, but he so desperately believes that he will. He wishes he was sure that he’s doing the right thing, but after a week of travel, being hunted like a criminal by those who’d once been his allies, he can’t help but think that he’s made a mistake.

No. He’s doing the right thing—this is what they would have wanted. There is no way they would have been okay with the arrangement their Sects had made. ��Honor,” one venerated elder had said, “is very important. It must be done for their honor to stay intact.”

Honor? What honor? They didn’t do anything wrong—of that, Ouyang Zizhen is sure. The only crime they’d ever committed was loving each other.

He keeps on going down the road.

***

“Have you heard?” someone whispers the next morning in the inn he stops at.

“What?” the man’s friend replies.

“The bodies of Jin Rulan and Lan Jingyi have gone missing!”

“Gone missing?” the friend scoffs. “Please, everyone knows that Ouyang Zizhen stole the bodies! The nerve of that man—just because he was once their friend, he thinks that he has the right to do something like this? How will they ever rest in peace?”

Ouyang Zizhen bows his head farther. His bamboo hat hides his face, but nothing can stop those whispers from reaching his ears, and he is livid. Resting in peace? How could either of his friends rest in peace in the situation they were left in? And, he soothes himself, he was Jin Ling

and Jingyi’s friend right up until the end. Even now, in their death, he won’t let them be disrespected.

He just needs to bury their bodies, and he’ll bury them together, just like they deserved. Star-crossed lovers deserve to stay together. That privilege was ripped away from them in life, but Ouyang Zizhen will see to it that they’re not denied it in death.

***

Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling’s world had shattered the moment Lan Xichen’s edict was announced. No one else knew what to make of it, either. After all, who would have thought that the virtuous Zewu-Jun had an illegitimate child? And who would have thought the child was Lan Jingyi?

However, the strokes on the edict Lan Xichen wrote were steady and confident, unlike the ones of Lan Jingyi’s note when he wrote to Ouyang Zizhen. “I’ve never even met him,” Lan Jingyi had written. “He’s been in seclusion my entire life, and now I’m suddenly going to meet him as his son and heir.” The panic was evident through the paper. “Zizhen, what am I supposed to do? I don’t know how A-Ling feels. How can we be together now? Before, we could have tried, Zizhen, but now he’s Sect Leader Jin and one day I’ll be Sect Leader Lan.

“Zizhen, is it bad that I’m resenting Zewu-Jun this much?”

“No,” Ouyang Zizhen had replied. “It’s perfectly natural.” He understood why Zewu-Jun had done it, though. The death of Lan Wangji and his wife two months prior had shocked the entire cultivational world—no, the entire kingdom. After all, Lan Wangji was the brother of Sect Leader Lan, and his wife was the grandniece of the Emperor. (Everyone handily ignored the whispered words that crawled through every Sect and village—the ones that said that their deaths weren’t an accident. The ones that said people could hear the screams from the Jingshi. The ones that said the demure princess had murdered her husband before killing herself. None of it was Ouyang Zizhen’s problem.)

Zewu-Jun had made it clear that he wasn’t going to leave seclusion, not even to get married and produce an heir, seeing as Lan Wangji and his wife had been childless. So, of course, he’d legitimized his child born out of wedlock and named him his heir without even leaving the Hanshi.

For a man such as Lan Xichen, it made sense. It didn’t mean that Ouyang Zizhen supported him, though.

After some time, Lan Jingyi wrote to him again. “I met Zewu-Jun,” he said. “He apologized for springing this on me. He said that I was smart and that I could handle it. He didn’t ask me to call him ‘Father.’ I asked about my mother and he looked angry—he said that she didn’t matter. Wasn’t Zewu-Jun supposed to be kind and virtuous?”

“Jingyi,” Ouyang Zizhen had replied, “maybe Zewu-Jun and your mother didn’t marry for a reason. Maybe they didn’t like each other that much.” That, of course, begged the question about why they were together in the first place. But no one dared to ask about Lan Jingyi’s mother, or her relationship with his newly-revealed father, so he’d never know for sure.

“Zizhen, A-Ling and I still meet as often as we can,” Jingyi said when they managed to cross paths on a night hunt. “I don’t know how long we can keep this up.”

“One day,” Ouyang Zizhen promised, “the world will be ready for you.”

That day didn’t come fast enough.

***

“The Lan Sect is in chaos,” someone whispers the next village over. “No clear heir and all the factions that banded together to overthrow Lan Jingyi are now fighting each other.”

She receives a bored yawn. “How long before the Lan Sect disintegrates, do you think?”

“Three years.”

“Hm, I’d give it five.”

“The two of you have too much faith in cultivational Sects,” someone else butts in. “The Lan Sect is supposed to be the most virtuous of all, and yet look at the carnage! They’re falling apart at the seams—I’d be surprised if they made it through the year.”

Ouyang Zizhen keeps his head down. He gives it six months at best. Even before everything went wrong, Lan Jingyi had been trying to hold together a dying Sect. The only thing that most every Lan could agree on was that Lan Jingyi had no business being Sect Leader when he was an illegitimate child. Of course, no one batted an eye when Jin Guangyao smoothly stepped into the role of Sect Leader Jin when Jin Ling had been found dead. He was older and more proven, not to mention the man who had killed Wen Ruohan—the perfect choice, much better than Jin Ling had ever been!

Ouyang Zizhen wonders if the “venerated elders” will ever wake up and realize that they’ve ruined the lives of the next generation. He doubts it.

***

Jin Ling ran into him during a night hunt in the forests of Yiling, Lan Jingyi right by his side. Ouyang Zizhen offered them both a weak smile. “I heard the news,” he said. “It looks like all of us are Sect Leaders now.”

Lan Xichen had died a day earlier, and now Lan Jingyi had to go back and perform the proper mourning rituals before taking up the mantle of Sect Leader Lan. Lan Jingyi looked down and Jin Ling wrapped an arm around him. “Nothing will happen,” Jin Ling assured his lover quietly. “Everything will be fine—we can stay together. Right, Zizhen?”

“Right,” Ouyang Zizhen confirmed. “One day, I’ll be sitting front and center at your wedding.”

Lan Jingyi finally looked up, and he gave them both a pale imitation of his usual manic grin. “We’d look good in red.”

“Jin Ling would look good in red,” Ouyang Zizhen said. “I’m sorry Jingyi, but red is just not your color.”

Instead of making Lan Jingyi laugh, it made him cry, and Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling had to catch him when his knees buckled. He sobbed for what seemed like hours, Jin Ling whispering comforting words into his ear while Ouyang Zizhen gave him his most comforting smile. Eventually, the soon-to-be Sect Leader Lan fell asleep, and the bags under his eyes seemed more pronounced than ever.

“Zizhen,” Jin Ling said, “is it bad that the only reason I wish Zewu-Jun hadn’t died was so that A-Yi and I could be just a bit happier?”

“No,” he whispered back. “I wish the same thing, Jin Ling.”

They were not ready.

***

Before entering the next village, Ouyang Zizhen is stopped by guards. “Open the carriage,” they say. “Let us see what’s inside.” All they find is a carriage full of fruits, all of which are being kept fresh through Ouyang Zizhen’s spiritual powers—just like the bodies of Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi, which sit under the floorboards. The fruits’ scent covers up whatever smell the bodies may have been giving off, and Ouyang Zizhen is let inside the village easily.

Stopping here had been a bit of a gamble—the village is larger than the others had been, just barely missing the threshold of “town.” Here, there are more people, which means both an easier way to blend in and a higher chance of running into someone he doesn’t want to. Luckily, he experiences no further complications.

However, he does hear gossip, and a lot of it. “To think,” someone says, “that Lan Jingyi and Jin Rulan turned out to be cut-sleeves—how scandalous!”

“They’re too young and naive,” another gruffs, “and a passing passion ruined their lives. This is why you wait until marriage; look at how they turned out. The Lan Sect doesn’t like cut-sleeves, and the Jin Sect only barely tolerates them. I’m not surprised that Lan Jingyi was overthrown or that Jin Rulan was driven to suicide.”

Ouyang Zizhen nearly punches him in the face. Young and naive? Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling were well into their twenties. A passing passion? They’d been in love for years—all of Ouyang Zizhen’s romance books combined paled in comparison to their soft touches and sweet remarks. However, the man is right on one account: the Lan Sect doesn’t like cut-sleeves. Everyone that hated Lan Jingyi had used the scandal as an excuse to depose him—to murder him.

The Lan Sect is falling apart, and Ouyang Zizhen is glad.

As for Jin Ling…Ouyang Zizhen truly doesn’t know. He’d been head-over-heels, completely invested, but had he really been so overwhelmed that he committed suicide? Jin Ling was strong and fierce—Ouyang Zizhen had expected to find him in a rage and ready to storm the Cloud Recesses when he arrived at Koi Tower. Instead, Jin Guangyao gently informed him that Jin Ling had been so overcome with despair that he’d taken his own life. He’d been hanging from the ceiling, the servants had said.

Jin Ling had smiled so proudly when they were seventeen and he’d defeated hundreds of fierce corpses all on his own. Jin Ling wore his robes and vermillion mark with pride. Jin Ling was talented and good-looking and the first-ranked cultivator. How could he hang himself?

Then again, how could the righteous Lan Sect murder its own Sect Leader in cold blood? Ouyang Zizhen knows only one thing: the world is a cruel, confusing place.

He continues on.

***

Ouyang Zizhen learned about it through the whispers of his servants. “What happened?” he’d demanded.

Eye downcast, he received a chilling answer. “Sect Leader, someone revealed a series of love letters sent between Sect Leader Lan and Sect Leader Jin.”

His heart immediately stopped. He’d seen a few of those letters—either Jin Ling or Lan Jingyi would bashfully show them to him, blushes covering their faces—and they left no room for guesswork. Each stroke was lovingly crafted, and each letter contained such deep affection that Ouyang Zizhen swooned. “A true romance, right before my eyes!” he’d said once upon a time.

Now their own happiness was going to be used against them.

He left immediately to the Lan Sect, but when he arrived a week later, it was already too late. A coup had taken place and Lan Jingyi was killed. The Sect Leader position was wide open, and there was obvious tension over who would inherit it. Before he left, he pulled aside one of Lan Jingyi’s servants that had managed to survive. “His last words?” he’d asked.

She shook her head. She hadn’t heard over the cries of victory.

It took him another week to get to Koi Tower, where he’d intended to comfort Jin Ling, but all he was met with was Jin Guangyao’s tired smile. “I’m sorry, Sect Leader Ouyang, but…A-Ling was overcome by grief. He couldn’t handle the news of Sect Leader Lan’s death.” He shook his head. “They really did love each other like a man would a woman.”

Ouyang Zizhen had cried when he finally got himself alone—his two closest friends (his two only friends) were dead, and it hurt.

Then both Sects announced that they’d be holding funerals. That is, separate funerals. Ouyang Zizhen wasn’t impulsive; he put a great deal of thought into his next actions. He bought a carriage, a horse, a change of clothes, and a cartful of fruit. The Lan Sect was such a mess that sneaking into the Cloud Recesses was concerningly easy. Koi Tower had been a bit harder, but Ouyang Zizhen wasn’t the third-ranked cultivator for nothing.

He placed their bodies right next to each other, and he smiled at them both. “Soon,” he promised, “you can rest. Just hang in there for a bit, alright?”

Neither of them answered.

***

Eventually, Ouyang Zizhen’s luck runs out. Some Jin cultivators are hot on his trail—merely a few hours behind. He doesn’t dare stop to rest, to eat, nor to relieve himself. The news of the Jin cultivators has already traveled past Ouyang Zizhen, so he’s in real danger. Staying ahead of rumors is always the goal, but it seems that he’s lost.

A sudden shout of, “Sir, stop the cart!” startles him. He follows on instinct, only to find a child, an early teen at best, standing in front of him, seemingly having appeared out of thin air. “You almost ran me over,” the boy says. He wears dark, tattered robes, but his smile is sweet and calming.

“I’m sorry,” Ouyang Zizhen replies. “Please move aside now.” He needs to keep moving.

The boy says, “Sir, you’re in trouble, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve got two bodies in the carriage, sir.”

Ouyang Zizhen’s eyes narrow. “Who are you?”

The boy stares at him, apparently happy that Ouyang Zizhen has asked. “You can call me A-Yuan.” That tells him absolutely nothing. Ouyang Zizhen is just about ready to run the kid over—no one can know about this, not ever—when the boy asks, “Are you heading to Xihe?”

He scowls. “What’s it to you?” Sweet Guanyin, Ouyang Zizhen is—or, rather, was—an accomplished Sect Leader and one of the most powerful men of his generation, and yet he’s already on edge from the calm, consistent stare of A-Yuan.

A-Yuan shakes his head softly. “Sir, they’re tracking you this easily—they’re expecting you to go to Xihe.”

“Well, this is the only road leading away from them, so I don’t have much of a choice in the matter, do I?”

“You could,” A-Yuan says, “head that way.” He raises his hand and points off to the side, into the foliage that lines the road. That is, he points off the road.

Ouyang Zizhen wonders if the boy is kidding, wonders if A-Yuan is taking some sick, twisted pleasure in making him feel more and more helpless with each passing second. However, A-Yuan’s face holds nothing but sincerity. “I can’t take a carriage through there,” Ouyang Zizhen says slowly. “It could break.”

“But if you stay on the road, you’ll definitely be caught,” A-Yuan points out softly. “Going into the woods is your best option, isn’t it?”

The worst part is, the little boy is right. Ouyang Zizhen has been trying to ignore it the entire time, but the truth is that he’s not going to be able to avoid the cultivators for much longer. Maybe this boy is a demon of some sort, trying to lure him into his den—but wouldn’t he be better off dying that way than with those wretched Jin? After all, no one would be able to separate Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi’s bodies. Death is a small price to pay. Resigning himself, Ouyang Zizhen lowers his head until his bamboo hat blocks the boy from view. “Sit with me,” he says.

He can’t see the look on A-Yuan’s face, but he knows that the boy complies. Faster than possible, he ends up sitting next to Ouyang Zizhen, who immediately grips the reins tighter as he turns the carriage. They head right into the woods.

They keep on like that for a few hours, neither of them saying a word as they weave through trees and over streams. By some miracle, nothing happens to the carriage, and nothing goes horribly wrong. Ouyang Zizhen wonders if A-Yuan isn’t a demon. What if A-Yuan is a god that has decided to pity him? He’s too unsure of himself to bring it up.

Then, when the sun starts to rise, A-Yuan starts humming. It’s an absolutely beautiful melody that has Ouyang Zizhen’s heart stuttering as he immediately pulls back on the reins, making the horses grind to a stop. For the first time since he’d climbed on the carriage, he looks at A-Yuan and says, “Where did you learn that song?”

A-Yuan looks back at him, a vaguely pleased expression on his face. “You recognize it, then?”

How could he not? He’d heard it from Lan Jingyi, after all.

***

“Where did you learn that song from?” Jin Ling asked Lan Jingyi. The other boy’s legs were draped over Jin Ling’s lap, and Ouyang Zizhen had a hard time concentrating on the book in his hands when such an adorable, domestic scene was playing out right in front of him. And, he had to admit, the melody Lan Jingyi had been humming was enthralling.

The young boy sighed and rested his head on Jin Ling’s shoulder. “You can’t tell a soul,” he said.

“We won’t,” Ouyang Zizhen promised. Jin Ling just pressed a kiss to Lan Jingyi’s forehead, long ago having gotten comfortable with performing such blatant displays of affection and intimacy in the presence of their friend.

Lan Jingyi smiled. “I heard it coming from the Jingshi. Hanguang-Jun has been playing it a lot ever since he got back from Heizhu-Gong’s marriage.”

“Why do you think he’s doing that?” Ouyang Zizhen asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe he just likes it. Maybe the princess complimented him and he decided to make it his life’s work to perfect the song. It could be anything.”

“I can’t imagine Hanguang-Jun actually caring about anyone’s opinion about his music,” Jin Ling muttered.

Lan Jingyi shrugged. “Who knows?”

Jin Ling chuckled, this time pressing a kiss to Lan Jingyi’s lips. Ouyang Zizhen, recognizing that things were going to start going places he didn’t care for, stood and said, “I’ll be at that nice restaurant where we had breakfast. Find me when you’re done, yeah?” He didn’t wait to hear their responses before scurrying off, a smug look on his face. Those two were shameless with each other, and it was nice to know that they trusted him so much.

(According to Lan Jingyi, Lan Wangji had stopped playing that wonderful melody after he married a princess himself—the woman who was the sister of Wei Wuxian’s wife, and who was one of the two grandnieces of the Emperor.)

(Well, stopped wasn’t exactly the right word. He played it one more time: early in the morning on the day that he died.)

***

Ouyang Zizhen repeats, “Where did you hear that song?”

A-Yuan replies, “Look out for that branch.”

Ouyang Zizhen has to yank back on the reins to keep the horse from tripping. Gritting his teeth, he says, “You’re not going to tell me.” A-Yuan resumes his humming and Ouyang Zizhen keeps his mouth shut, just in case the boy really is a god.

As the days continue, Ouyang Zizhen becomes convinced that A-Yuan is a deity of some sort, because, even though they never go to a village, A-Yuan always seems to know which direction to point him in for an animal he can catch for food, or a safe stream that he can drink from. He considers asking him how he knows all of this, but then decides better of it. If A-Yuan hasn’t revealed it, then he must prefer his own mysteriousness.

However, while Ouyang Zizhen is technically still unsure of what A-Yuan is, he knows for certain that the boy is desperate to share a conversation with him. He’ll bring up anything—the weird marks on a specific tree, the stars that are barely visible through the canopy, even the consistent beat of the horse’s hooves against the forest floor. If it exists, then A-Yuan tries to bring him into a conversation about it. Ouyang Zizhen always answers as politely as possible. As wary as he is, he’s not quite ready enough to discuss dirt at length just yet.

One day, Ouyang Zizhen suddenly realizes something. He says, “I think I know where you want me to go.”

“You do?”

“Did you point me toward Qinghe?”

“I did,” A-Yuan confirms. “Are you alright with it?”

Well, the Nie Sect isn’t all that invested in the disappearance of Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi’s bodies—in fact, Ouyang Zizhen doubts that Nie Huaisang spared it even a moment of thought—so it’s not the worst place he could have gone. Originally, Ouyang Zizhen had been heading toward the lawless lands of Qishan—and had gotten rather close, actually—but Qinghe seems to be where A-Yuan wants him to go. After only a moment of hesitation, he nods. “If it’s safe,” he says, “I’ll go there.”

“Thank you for believing in me,” A-Yuan replies and, for a moment, he stops looking like some strange god shoved into the body of a child, and instead looks like a child who’s just been told that they’ve done a good job. He’s practically glowing under Ouyang Zizhen’s gaze, and the older man has to look away to properly identify the feeling that’s squirming in his stomach.

It takes him a second, but he eventually realizes that it’s pity. He pities A-Yuan for being able to draw so much happiness from the trust of a stranger. And they are strangers—despite traveling together for two weeks, they barely know each other. (Or, at least, Ouyang Zizhen barely knows A-Yuan. He has the sneaking suspicion that it’s not necessarily the same the other way around.)

After another day, A-Yuan says, “Stop.” His eyes are narrowed onto the space in front of them. Ouyang Zizhen obeys, but is confused about what has the boy so riled up until he hears it: the consistent steps of another horse.

Whoever else is there is already too close—with how big his carriage is, Ouyang Zizhen will never be able to outrun them. So, gritting his teeth, he rests his hand on his sword, which is still tied to his waist; a cloth now covers its majestic sheath, but it must be done to keep his identity a secret. A-Yuan doesn’t untense, even when a figure makes itself clear in the darkness.

Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t know whether he should be scared or relieved that it’s Nie Huaisang who sits upon the midnight mare. The older man observes Ouyang Zizhen, giving him an appraising once-over, before saying, “Sect Leader Ouyang, what a surprise. I didn’t think that you’d show up here.”

The Ouyang Sect had long since named another Sect Leader, so Nie Huaisang is just trying to be polite. It only succeeds in putting him more on edge. “Why are you here?” he asks.

Nie Huaisang stares at him. “You’re asking the Sect Leader of the QingheNie why he’s in his own forest?”

Immediately, Ouyang Zizhen ducks his head and mutters out an apology. He needs to remember the position he’s in—he has no Sect backing, he’s a wanted criminal, and he’s completely at Nie Huaisang’s mercy. Nie Huaisang’s eyes sweep over the carriage he’s drawing behind him. “You’re dragging the bodies of the previous leaders of two presitigous Sects with you in a fruit cart?” he asks. He sounds bitter, as if he’s not surprised.

Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t answer.

Nie Huaisang sighs. “What are you planning to do with the bodies?”

It’s a test. Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t have any proof of it, but he’s been in politics long enough to recognize that the Nie Sect Leader is trying to figure out if he’s worth helping. In the face of such a powerful man, Ouyang Zizhen can’t quite lie. So, he tells the truth. “I want to bury them together in a place where they’ll never be disturbed,” he says. “They deserve it.”

“You three were friends, weren’t you?”

“We were.”

After a bit of silence, Nie Huaisang asks, “Why didn’t you bury them somewhere along the way to here? No one would find them.”

Ouyang Zizhen glances away. He doesn’t know if he has a thick enough face to say that he’s been waiting to find somewhere worthy of being Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi’s resting place. He can’t bear to leave them in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, Nie Huaisang seems to gather whatever information he needs by staring at his face.

“Well,” Nie Huaisang says, “where are you heading now?”

Imperceptibly, Ouyang Zizhen glances toward A-Yuan, who says, “The Liuning Forest.”

For some reason, Nie Huaisang doesn’t seem to hear him, and that’s when Ouyang Zizhen realizes that the man hasn’t even looked at A-Yuan in all of the time since they’ve met. A-Yuan must not be showing himself to him. So, Ouyang Zizhen repeats, “The Liuning Forest.”

“It’s a nice place,” Nie Huaisang replies. “Get some rest. I’ll drive the carriage there for you.”

“What about your horse?”

“She’s well-trained,” Nie Huaisang promises, running his hand through the mare’s inky hair. “She’ll stay right with us.”

Realizing that he’s not in a position to refute the other man, Ouyang Zizhen complies. He piles into the carriage, moving a few piles of fruit away so that he can sit inside—and he does his best to ignore the fact that he’s sitting right about Lan Jingyi’s legs. A-Yuan gets in right after him, and after Nie Huaisang starts the journey, A-Yuan says, “Why did you do that?”

“What?”

“Sect Leader Nie is famous for his lack of sword skills. You were the third-ranked cultivator of your generation. Why didn’t you fight him?”

“We’re in the middle of Qinghe, A-Yuan. Killing, or even harming, Sect Leader Nie isn’t ideal. Besides, Sect Leaders don’t just wander around alone—I will be legitimately surprised if there aren’t people watching over him.”

A-Yuan hums. “You say that, but I think that you’re just scared of him.” There’s nothing mocking in his tone, just a plain observation.

Ouyang Zizhen’s stomach churns uncomfortably. Who wouldn’t be scared of Nie Huaisang? After the death of his brother, they say that he went crazy. They say that, for a short period of time, he had nearly starved himself to death and dismissed all of his servants. They say that he nearly Qi Deviated merely six months after Nie Mingjue did. Now, they say that he never gets into any problem—no matter what it is, he doesn’t let it affect him. And when someone causes him a problem…well, they’re never heard from again.

Nie Huaisang is scary, even with a fan in his hand instead of a sword—or, perhaps, he’s scarier that way. (Those blood-brown eyes peeking over that ornately-decorated fan will forever haunt his dreams.)

“I am,” he eventually admits. It’s painful to say it out loud, to finally completely acknowledge that he’s at the other man’s mercy. Deciding that he doesn’t like it, he moves on to a different topic. “Sect Leader Nie can’t see you.”

A-Yuan nods in agreement. “Most people can’t.”

“Why?” Finally, he’s worked up the courage to ask.

A-Yuan stares at him, looking oddly vulnerable. “Sir, you won’t get mad at me, right?”

“No,” Ouyang Zizhen promises. As if he’d get mad at a deity.

Accepting his answer, A-Yuan nods before whispering, “I’m dead.”

That…is not what Ouyang Zizhen had been expecting. “What?”

“I’m dead. I’m a ghost. That’s why he couldn’t see me.”

“Then why can I see you?” Ouyang Zizhen demands. If A-Yuan is a ghost, then he’s a completely harmless one. He’s not giving off any energy of any sort—resentful or otherwise—and his presence is so stable and even Ouyang Zizhen, a well-accomplished cultivator, didn’t recognize his lack of life. Even now, A-Yuan seems so alive: his cheeks have a healthy flush, his eyes sparkle with intelligence, and his breathing is calm and soothing. How can it all be fake?

A-Yuan says, “Because I want you to.”

“Why do you want me to?”

“I promised that I would help you.”

“When?”

“When they asked me.” He pats the wooden floor of the carriage, and Ouyang Zizhen is reminded of the two bodies underneath the fake floor.

He lets out a strangled gasp. “They…”

“Asked me to take care of you. They were worried about you—you abandoned your Sect and put yourself in danger for them, sir.”

“Is that how you knew the song?” Ouyang Zizhen asks weakly.

A-Yuan nods. “Previous Sect Leader Lan was fond of it.”

“Are…are they still here?”

“No,” A-Yuan replies quietly. “They’ve moved on and are about to enter the cycle of reincarnation.”

Ouyang Zizhen squeezes his eyes shut. A single tear runs down his cheek. “Are they happy?�� he asks. “Are they entering it together?” Because if so, then half of Ouyang Zizhen’s worries will be put to rest. The other half will simmer down once he’s buried their bodies.

A-Yuan says, “They’re happy. They’re waiting a bit before entering reincarnation, last time I heard.”

Yes, that makes sense—staying together in bliss for a while before reentering this horrible, chaotic world is a good idea. More tears slip down Ouyang Zizhen’s face, and this time, he’s not sad. A-Yuan’s words echo through his head: ‘They’re happy.’ He’ll treasure it for the rest of his life.

They stay like that for a few hours. Eventually, Nie Huaisang stops the carriage and opens the door. “We’re here,” he says. He seems unsurprised at the dry tear tracks streaking down Ouyang Zizhen’s face. “Why did you want to come here, anyway? Don’t get me wrong, it’s gorgeous—I’ll definitely have to paint the scenery—but most people don’t care that much about this forest.”

Ouyang Zizhen looks around and, slowly, memories start to resurface.

***

Ouyang Zizhen stared at the scene in front of him. “Who are you?”

Two boys, both around the same age as him, stood far apart from each other—the Lan’s hands moved quickly as he desperately tried to tie his forehead ribbon back on, and the Jin was doing his best to look anywhere but at the two other boys. When he didn’t receive an answer, Ouyang Zizhen repeated, “I said, who are you? What are you two doing?”

The truth was that Ouyang Zizhen knew exactly what was going on—look at their blushes, their secret glances, their swollen lips—but he’d long ago learned that acting on his knowledge without confirmation would only get him into trouble. Their continued silence was incriminating enough, however, so Ouyang Zizhen decided to power through. “You’re in a relationship, aren’t you?” They froze, wide eyes staring at him in horror, and it was only then that Ouyang Zizhen decided to let out his delighted grin. “No, no, please continue! Secret trysts in the middle of a night hunt are the stuff of romance novels! So romantic! I’ll go, I’ll go—”

Quick as lightning, the Jin dashed forward and snatched up his arm. “Don’t tell anyone,” he hissed, and wow, his glare was wildly uncalled for. Ouyang Zizhen was nice about it and everything—he hadn’t even brought up the fact that they were both men!

A bit miffed, he shoved the other boy off of him, only for his mood to improve drastically when the Lan immediately rushed to his lover’s aid. “Don’t shove him!” he yelled. (Well, maybe he wasn’t a Lan, then.)

Ouyang Zizhen barely held in his swoon. “Actual lovers!” he exclaimed. “A romance right in front of my eyes!”

The anger and fear in the faces of the other boys finally melted into confusion. “You’re…okay with this?”

“Okay? This is wonderful! A Lan, a Jin, both men, having to meet in secret—a secret affair!” he declared. “If you two finally end up together and I’m there to witness it, then my life will be complete!” Ouyang Zizhen grabbed the Jin’s right arm and the Lan’s left and forced them both to hold hands. “Lovely,” he breathed. “The righteous Lan and the noble Jin—Sparks Amidst Snow, dancing in the clouds! This humble servant pledges that, from now on, he will do his best to protect your love!” Ah, the words—they flowed right out of his mouth.

The other two seemed to appreciate it, which is more Ouyang Zizhen could ever say about his father. “Thank you,” the Jin said slowly. He pulled his lover away from Ouyang Zizhen—protective and possessive at the same time, how marvelous—and they both sat a bit away from him.

Ouyang Zizhen sat down too. “So,” he said, “who are you two?”

They glanced at each other before shifting a wary look to him. “You won’t tell anyone?” the Lan asked.

“Never,” he promised. “Not unless you two ever want to dramatically reveal it to the entirety of the cultivational world. If you do, I actually have some good ideas—”

“Give us your word,” the Lan interrupted.

Ouyang Zizhen held up three fingers. “I, Ouyang Heng, courtesy Zizhen, will not reveal your relationship to the public without both of you giving me permission!” He’d read the books where only one person wanted to reveal the relationship—those always caused a mess. (But then again, wasn’t the mess the fun part?)

The Jin’s eyes widened, “You’re the Young Master Ouyang?”

“That I am! And you two…” He really wanted to know their names.

After another silent conversation between the two of them, the Lan stood up and bowed. “I’m Lan Fan, courtesy Jingyi, and this is Jin Ling, courtesy Rulan.”

For a second, Ouyang Zizhen didn’t process the names, and nothing changed. The moment he did, however, he immediately stood up straight. Lan Jingyi’s name wasn’t particularly special, but the other one… “You’re the Young Master Jin!” he exclaimed, pointing his right index finger at said man.

Jin Ling stared at him. “I am,” he admitted.

Ouyang Zizhen smiled wider. “Oh my, you’re the heir to one of the Great Sects!” he exclaimed. “That’s even better! Layer upon layer to this forbidden love! I don’t know if my heart can handle it!”

“Young Master Ouyang, please calm—”

“None of that! From now on, you will call this humble servant of yours ‘Zizhen’!”

Lan Jingyi’s eyes narrowed and the corner of his lips twitched downward, hinting at a hidden scowl. Jin Ling didn’t hide it, though. “Zizhen?” he asked. “We barely know you.”

“And yet I’ve fallen to the force of your romance!”

Lan Jingyi, apparently deciding to look at the bright side, finally huffed out a laugh. “Fine, Zizhen. In that case, call me Jingyi.”

“Jingyi,” Ouyang Zizhen repeated obediently. He then turned toward a red-faced Jin Ling.

“What are you looking at me for?” he snapped, turning away.

Lan Jingyi trailed his arm up to his lover’s shoulders, where he traced lazy little circles. Jin Ling shuddered slightly as Lan Jingyi whispered, “A-Ling, why are you being so mean to him?”

Such casual intimacy! In front of others, too! The sheer amount of sway that Lan Jingyi displayed over Jin Ling, who immediately caved and turned to their third-wheel, was astounding! Clearing his throat, Jin Ling said, “Call me Jin Ling. Not by my courtesy name.”

“He hates it,” Lan Jingyi supplied, pulling his arm away. Jin Ling leaned toward Lan Jingyi. However, he immediately leaned back with Lan Jingyi continued, “He thinks that it’s girly.”

“It is,” Jin Ling muttered. “That uncle of mine really went and screwed me over.”

“I rather like it,” Lan Jingyi teased. “Maybe when everyone regroups, I’ll thank Heizhu-Gong for connecting you to the Lan Sect in such a way.”

“It means ‘orchid’,” Jin Ling muttered.

Ouyang Zizhen seriously doubted that Lan Jingyi would dare talk to the famed Wei Wuxian, much less say something so scandalous, but it was so domestic that he actually let out a sigh. “I,” he said, “am here for you two! If you ever need anything—anything at all—I’ll do my best to help! I’ll cover for you, I promise!”

They both looked skeptical, but they accepted it. “Thank you, Zizhen,” they chorused, and Ouyang Zizhen smiled.

They stayed there for nearly the entire night hunt, chatting, until Jin Ling suddenly stood up and screeched, “Uncle’s going to kill me if I don’t get some more kills!” The thought of either Wei Wuxian’s or Jiang Wanyin’s—or even Jin Guangyao’s, really—rage, the three of them collectively shuddered and promptly spent the next hour frantically hunting the various monsters. Luckily, none of Jin Ling’s uncles had seemed particularly upset—and, as expected, Lan Jingyi never got within view of Wei Wuxian—and thus, all disaster had been averted.

They left after they all formally thanked Nie Huaisang for giving permission to night hunt in one of Qinghe’s forests, but Ouyang Zizhen, Lan Jingyi, and Jin Ling all kept in touch. Their first meeting was forever burned into their minds.

***

Nie Huaisang continues to stare at him expectantly, waiting for an answer, so Ouyang Zizhen replies, “This is where we first met.” And, as he’d found out later, this is where Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi had confessed to each other and had their first kiss…possibly even their first time if Ouyang Zizhen hadn’t snuck up on them.

Nie Huaisang smiles, looking somewhat thoughtful. “I remember that night hunt. It was rather uneventful—or at least, that’s what I thought. Apparently not, though.” He holds out his hand and helps Ouyang Zizhen out of the carriage. “I’ll get someone to help you bury them,” he says.

Ouyang Zizhen immediately shakes his head. “I’ll do it,” he insists. “No one else.”

“Fine,” Nie Huaisang replies. “And I apologize for the uncomfortability of it, but you’ll have to sleep in the carriage tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll have a cabin built for you.”

“What?” Ouyang Zizhen asks, eyes wide. “Sect Leader Nie, I can’t—”

“You can,” Nie Huaisang replies, “and you will. Where else can you go, Ouyang Zizhen?” He stops using his title—the one that no longer exists. Ouyang Zizhen realizes that he has nowhere else to go. His Sect has moved one, nearly every other Sect is hunting him down, and his only skill is cultivation. Well, he thinks, half-hysterical, maybe he can write romance novels for a living. Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi used to tease him about it—he can make it a reality. But then his mind comes back to reality and he bows his head. Nie Huaisang smiles. “I’ll be heading off now. If you decide you need help with the bodies, I’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning with some men. Rest assured, no one will get you as long as I’m Sect Leader Nie.”

Before he can stop himself, Ouyang Zizhen asks, “Why are you helping me?”

At this, the older man falls silent. A chilly breeze runs over them, and Ouyang Zizhen shivers even under all of his robes. Finally, Nie Huaisang decides to respond. “Two Sect Leaders are dead. There doesn’t need to be a third.” Ouyang Zizhen isn’t sure if Nie Huaisang’s talking about him or himself.

He leaves. Ouyang Zizhen finds a very specific tree that he remembers resting his back on while the three of them had chatted, way back when, and decides that it is the spot. He starts digging, and A-Yuan stands off to the side. “Do you want some help?” the boy asks.

“Are you able to help?” Ouyang Zizhen asks.

A-Yuan hesitates. Then, slowly, he crouches to the ground and tries to dig his fingers into the dirt. His hand slips right through as if the ground is a mirage. “No,” he says, sounding vaguely distraught, “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He continues digging. It’s a mindless task and his thoughts wander. “A-Yuan,” he says, “how old are you?”

A-Yuan hums. “As in how old was I when I died or how old I would be if I were still alive?”

Ouyang Zizhen pauses. “Both, I guess.”

“Well,” A-Yuan says, “I died when I was eleven. I was one of the last ones left. If I were still alive…I think I’d be around your age, actually. Maybe a few months older than you.”

A chill settles on Ouyang Zizhen’s spine. A-Yuan is the same age as him. They could have been friends. Shakily, he asks, “Who killed you?”

“Jin Guiren.” He doesn’t hesitate, and he says the name like it’s a random bug—no hate or fear, just simple neutrality.

Ouyang Zizhen wonders if he should ask how he died, or maybe why, but he decides against it. When the hole seems large enough, he climbs out and heads to the carriage. The bodies of Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi are both perfectly preserved, just like the fruit, and they both wear a sort of serene smile that they never would have in life. Their hands are curled into one another’s, though, so Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t let himself hate too much. Carefully, he picks them both up—both of their bodies are too cold, and it makes him shiver with sorrow.

He has no casket, so he buries them as they are. He scoops one pile of dirt back onto them, and he can almost hear Lan Jingyi say, “Look at you, all dirtied up—take a bath before you start stinking.” After another, he almost sees Jin Ling’s eyes flutter open as he says, “You’re going to pass out from exhaustion—take a break.” He keeps going and going, every time he buries them a bit more, they whisper his worries in his ears and ask him to please sit down and take some rest. He doesn’t listen to them—he’s their humble servant, and if he can’t do at least this much then what good is he?

When they’re buried, he punches a tree—not on a whim, but to get some of its bark. Then, letting some qi light into a phantom flame on his finger, he carves their names into the wood. Not their real names, of course—if someone finds this grave, they might ransack it upon realizing who’s buried here. Instead he carefully, lovingly, carves “A-Ling” and “A-Yi” into the bark.

When he sets it above their burial site, he swears that he can hear each of them whisper in one of his ears, “Thank you, Zizhen.”

He doesn’t think that he’s ever cried harder, and A-Yuan trying and failing to place a comforting hand on his shoulder doesn’t help.

The next morning, he’s nudged awake by a fan. When he opens his eyes, Nie Huaisang is standing over him, concerned. “Are you alright?” he asks. “You should have slept in the carriage. Come on, I’ve brought you something to eat.”

Breakfast passes with Nie Huaisang attempting to make friendly conversation, only for Ouyang Zizhen to deal out clipped replies. Eventually, though, the younger man says, “Sect Leader Nie?”

“Yes?”

“I should have waited for you. Would you have gotten them a casket if I asked?”

“I would have,” Nie Huaisang agrees, “but you seemed to be in a hurry to bury them, so I decided to not mention it.”

“They deserved a casket. No, they deserved more than a casket—they deserved an entire temple, just for them. I should have built them a temple, Sect Leader Nie.”

There’s something bitter in Nie Huaisang’s gaze. “What’s the point?” he asks. “They’re dead either way. They’ll have new bodies soon enough, if they reincarnate. If they’re freed from the cycle, they won’t have to worry about such worldly things. What does it matter if they’re buried in an unmarked grave or a temple?”

Ouyang Zizhen scowls. “Sect Leader Nie,” he hisses, livid, “they’ve done nothing wrong. Why should their bodies suffer from abuse that they don’t deserve? Their souls may be gone, but their bodies are gifts to the earth. Disrespecting them is unfair.”

“What good will respecting their bodies do?”

“It will give them and us peace,” Ouyang Zizhen says. “Is that not good enough of a reason?”

Nie Huaisang stares at him, uncomprehending, and then his expression shifts. For a moment, Ouyang Zizhen thinks that he’s gone too far, that Nie Huaisang will wave his fan and an arrow will come out and pierce through his neck. Ouyang Zizhen can stop it, of course, but what’s the point of delaying his inevitable death? But then, the older man just sighs. “It seems we have very different views on death.” He stands, snapping his fan shut. “I’ve eaten my fill, and the cabin has been built and has enough food to last for a while. Feel free to do what you need to. I’ll be back next week.”

He leaves in a flurry of robes, his servants leaving with him, and Ouyang Zizhen is left behind. A-Yuan smoothly slides into the seat across from him in the newly-constructed cabin. “Look, sir,” he says, “I’ve been practicing.” Before Ouyang Zizhen can ask what he means, A-Yuan slowly picks up a cup from the tea set.

“You can touch things now?”

“Just barely. It’s hard.” He sets the tea cup back down. “What’s your plan now, sir?”

That is a good question. In all honesty, Ouyang Zizhen hadn’t thought this far ahead. His only goal had been burying Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling’s bodies in an appropriate place, and now that it’s been accomplished, he feels…empty. “I can consider this secluded cultivation,” he mutters, then winces. Lan Xichen had also been in secluded cultivation, hadn’t he? And Lan Xichen was one of the reasons that his two best friends are dead. “Or not. I can continue to cultivate, in any case.” He pats the sword at his hip.

A-Yuan hums. “You’re a good cultivator, right?”

“Third-ranked in my age group,” Ouyang Zizhen nods.

“How about in all age groups?”

At this, he shakes his head. “They say that I’m impressive,” he says, “but the previous generation—it’s full of beasts. Lianfang-Zun, Jin Guangyao; the River God, Jiang Wanyin; Heizhu-Gong, Wei Wuxian…each is more terrifying than the last. And even though they both died pretty early in their lives, Zewu-Jun and Hanguang-Jun are said to have been extremely powerful—they say that together with Chifeng-Zun, the three of them had a body count nearly as high as Heizhu-Gong’s. My generation can’t live up to that.”

A-Yuan considers this. “The River God and Heizhu-Gong were Jin Rulan’s uncles, right? You’re lucky they haven’t come searching for you.”

The thought makes him shudder. “If Heizhu-Gong hadn’t been visiting the Capital, I don’t know if I’d still be alive right now. As for the River God…I don’t know why he hasn’t been searching for me.”

“He probably has his reasons.”

Ouyang Zizhen makes a vague sound of agreement.

They sit like that for a while, just basking in the silence, before Ouyang Zizhen asks, “A-Yuan, did you say that you were killed by a Jin?”

“Jin Guiren,” A-Yuan agrees.

“You also said that you were ‘one of the last ones left.’ What did you mean?”

“I was one of the last six people left at the work camp.”

“Did they work you to death?”

“No.” He reaches over and taps his nail against the ceramic of Ouyang Zizhen’s tea cup. “Watch me, sir,” he instructs, and then he morphs. His healthy skin turns sickly pale, some of his hair is pulled off—nauseating crimson spills into his vision. He has one black eye, and the other has considerable bags under it. His lip is split but, even more alarming, his lips are blue. Across his necks, there are ugly black bruises in the shape of hands. When he taps the tea cup again to pull Ouyang Zizhen’s attention to his hands, he finds A-Yuan’s nails chipped and broken—a few nails are missing entirely. A-Yuan says, “I’m going to tell you something, sir. Please don’t be mad at me.”

How can Ouyang Zizhen be mad at this child that has so obviously died in agony? He says, “I won’t.”

A-Yuan leans closer and then, so softly that Ouyang Zizhen barely hears him, he whispers, “Sir, my name is Wen Yuan.”

Wen. A boy that died in a work camp. Died at the hands of the Jin Sect. Vaguely, he remembers Jin Ling talking to him in private, shaking violently from head-to-toe. He remembers Jin Ling saying, “Zizhen, I don’t think my family is made up of good people.” He remembers Jin Ling saying, “I can’t tell you what it is, but I’ve found something terrible.” He remembers Jin Ling saying, “I can’t believe that something like this was allowed to happen.” He remembers sobbing and having to comfort his dear friend about a matter that he thought he’ll never know about.

Is this what he’d meant, back then? Or is the Jin Sect even more rotten than this? Seeing Wen Yuan’s increasing anxiety at his lack of reply, Ouyang Zizhen says, “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

Wen Yuan leans back, relieved, and lets his appearance morph back into that of a healthy young boy. “I could have looked like this,” he explains. “I like this better than how I really was.”

He shouldn’t have been beaten and strangled to death. Lan Jingyi shouldn’t have been thrust into the role of Sect Leader only to get killed in a coup. Jin Ling shouldn’t have had to consider suicide his only option. Ouyang Zizhen shouldn’t have had to take care of his friends because no one else would. “A-Yuan,” he says, “I think I hate them.”

“The Jin Sect?”

“Everyone. Every single person who fought in that god forsaken war and then thought that it gave them the right to ruin the lives of the next generation.”

“They suffered,” Wen Yuan points out. “More than we can imagine.”

“That’s not an excuse to cause even more suffering. Look at you—look at how you died. A-Yuan, are you trying to tell me that they deserved to do that to you?”

At this, Wen Yuan quiets down. “They did what they thought was right.”

“And they’ve done nothing but hurt others. Don’t try to justify it.”

Wen Yuan doesn’t answer.

Neither of them says a thing until lunch. “A-Yuan,” Ouyang Zizhen says, “why haven’t you moved on?”

The boy goes rigid. He whispers, “There’s something I still want to do.”

“I can help.” It’ll give him a goal, a reason to continue on. “Do you want Jin Guiren dead?”

“He died of illness already. I have something else in mind.”

“What is it?”

The boy bites his lip, once again looking so terribly vulnerable. “Sir,” he says, “I want to have a friend.”

Ouyang Zizhen thinks, ‘If things were different, we could have been friends.’ But, the more he thinks about it, he can be the boy’s friend. For right now, at least. “I’ll be your friend.” (After all, Ouyang Zizhen knows that, after Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi’s death, he’s had a distinct shortage of those.)

“Why do you want to be my friend?”

“Why not?” Well, there are a few valid reasons not to: Wen Yuan is a ghost, Wen Yuan is currently over a decade younger than him, Wen Yuan will probably move on at some point soon and Ouyang Zizhen may not be able to handle it very well—but he’s desperate, so he doesn’t let himself consider any of these.

“You…really want to be my friend?” He sounds vaguely disbelieving.

“I do.” Ouyang Zizhen stands and says, “What do you want to do?”

“What?”

“We can try to do some hunting,” he says. “Or we can explore the forest.”

“Why?”

“For fun. To get to know each other better. It’s a good bonding experience.” Hunting and exploring had been what he had done with Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi when they first met. “You’ll like it.”

Wen Yuan stares at him—vulnerable, nearly shaking—before nodding. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s explore the forest.”

***

It takes three days for Ouyang Zizhen to figure it out, but when he does finally notice, he can’t get his mind off of it. “A-Yuan,” he says, “you still call me ‘sir’.”

They’re foraging for berries in the forest, using a few baskets that Nie Huaisang had left behind for them. Wen Yuan is…not good at it, but he’s getting better. He just needs to concentrate. Ouyang Zizhen’s question startles him enough to let the berry fall right through his hands. He looks flighty, uncomfortable. “Ah, sir—do you want me to call you something else?”

“I’m your friend, right?”

“…right,” Wen Yuan agrees. Ouyang Zizhen hates how much he hesitates before he says that.

“I call you A-Yuan, and you said you were born before me, anyway. Call me…call me Zizhen.”

“Is that what they called you?”

There’s no question as to who “they” are; it’s quite obvious. “Yes,” he agrees. “All my friends call me that.” As if he still has any friends other than Wen Yuan.

Once upon a time, he’d had many. Somehow, he’d forsaken most of them after meeting Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi. He’d left the rest after he obtained their bodies and went on the run. But, as far as he can remember, the friends he used to have all called him by his courtesy name. Wen Yuan should, as well, shouldn’t he?

“Then…then I’ll call you Zizhen. Because we’re friends.” He says it with a little more confidence.

Ouyang Zizhen wonders if Wen Yuan will ever truly consider himself his friend. He hopes so. After all, Ouyang Zizhen has only ever seemed to exist for his friends, so if he doesn’t have any, then what will become of him? He’s useless as it is—only managing to safely bury Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi with the quite possibly insane Nie Huaisang’s help.

…wanting validation is a selfish reason for wanting a friend. Ouyang Zizhen does his best to shut that thought down. He offers Wen Yuan his best smile and hopes that it helps. It doesn’t.

They go back to picking berries.

Later, Ouyang Zizhen finds out that Wen Yuan doesn’t need to sleep. Ouyang Zizhen wonders what it feels like to be a ghost—to never need to be unconscious for several hours to regain energy. He can’t seem to regain energy even if he sleeps from sunset to noon—he can’t get himself out of bed for hours afterward. Wen Yuan always tries to coax him out—to eat, to bathe, to play—and sometimes it works.

The one thing that Ouyang Zizhen makes himself do is pick berries with Wen Yuan every day before sunset. It's a habit, and it’s…enjoyable. Calming. It soothes his soul in a way that his hours staring at the cabin ceiling don’t.

Today, Wen Yuan doesn’t go berry picking with him. Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t understand why until he gets a look at his own bony wrist.

“I…got skinnier?”

“Sect Leader Nie mentioned it in his visit, Zizhen.”

Nie Huaisang visited? He tries to get himself to remember, but his memory fails him. The best he can come up with is three weeks ago, when Nie Huaisang brightly asked for some of his berries so he could make pastries to give him.

Ouyang Zizhen frowns and pulls open a cabinet. Oh. The pastries are in there, stale and moldy. He closes the cabinet. “I forgot.”

“You haven’t been cultivating, either…”

He hasn’t been. It’s one thing to know that you need to do something, but it’s a different matter entirely to actually do it. And he can’t do it. His legs are too wobbly and his arms can’t hold any stances, and his chest can never take in a deep enough breath. He’s…he’s fallen out of order. Complete disarray. It’s his own kind way of accepting that he’s failed his own body.

Now, Wen Yuan can’t pick berries with him anymore, because Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, and Wen Yuan doesn’t want him to die of starvation. Wen Yuan, brows knit in concentration, is trying to make him some food.

Ouyang Zizhen bypasses the dining table and collapses onto the floor in the bedroom—quiet enough for Wen Yuan not to notice.

There is a good chance he falls asleep, because suddenly Wen Yuan is hauling him upright and dragging him to the table. “Eat,” he says.

Ouyang Zizhen is not hungry, but he eats so much that he throws up, anyway.

But—sometimes, Ouyang Zizhen has a good day. One time, it falls on the day Nie Huaisang visits. The older man brightens considerably. “You’re doing better than usual.”

Ouyang Zizhen wants to go back to bed, but he knows he can’t. The fact that he manages to sit still is enough to prove that today is a good day. “I guess I am.”

They chat over everything and nothing, and Nie Huaisang tells him some of the latest gossip in the cultivation world. Ouyang Zizhen pretends he cares. Eventually, when he leaves, Nie Huaisang gifts him a romance novel. Initially, Ouyang Zizhen is hopeful to read it and get lost in the pages.

He can’t manage to get through the first five. None of it interests him, no information managing to truly sit in his head. He gets to the bottom of a page and realizes he doesn’t remember a bit of what he’s just read.

He sets the book in the cabinet, right next to the forgotten pastries. Snippets of what he could have been, if he’d just tried harder. Done better.

Wen Yuan notices. “Zizhen, how about I read it to you?” he offers, already picking the book up. “All you have to do is listen. You’ll probably enjoy it more that way.”

Ouyang Zizhen agrees and Wen Yuan flips open the book, only to stare at its contents blankly. He quickly snaps it shut. Ouyang Zizhen frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“I…the characters are too hard for me. I don’t know how to read this.” He sounds frustrated, ashamed, absolutely furious with himself.

Ouyang Zizhen debates with himself, then offers, “I’ll teach you.”

He taught sword forms to children, so he should be able to teach reading. Wen Yuan readily agrees.

Ouyang Zizhen is a very bad teacher—he can feel it in his bones. Wen Yuan, too brilliant for his own good, understands anyway. He goes through with a mind of steel, and soon he’s able to read the book with no problem. Ouyang Zizhen is unsure of when it happens—the days have been blending together now that the date doesn’t matter.

Wen Yuan is smiling more often. Ouyang Zizhen makes sure to smile back.

And…it might take days or it might take months, but one day Ouyang Zizhen manages to make his own dinner, so he and Wen Yuan go berry picking again. There’s anticipation running thick through Ouyang Zizhen’s veins, waiting to feel the same soothing he’d felt before they’d stopped.

It never comes. His neck is aching and his fingers are spasming and he pushes himself to just pick a few more berries. After a few hours, Wen Yuan manages a basketful. Ouyang Zizhen manages to get twenty-seven. He stares down at them, confused and upset because he thought he’d done better, thought he could do better—

He needs to stop overestimating himself.

Wen Yuan doesn’t mention it, just scoops some of his own berries into Ouyang Zizhen’s basket with a chuckle. That night, Ouyang Zizhen eats all of it, then throws up. Wen Yuan gently leads him back to bed and sits by his side, humming the song that Lan Jingyi used to hum way back when.

Ouyang Zizhen whispers, “A-Yuan, I think I’m broken.”

Wen Yuan hesitates for less than a moment before smiling and saying, “You’re not. You’re in a tough spot and…and it’s going to be really hard to get out of it. But I’ll help. I’m right here.”

“You’re my friend.”

“I’m your friend,” Wen Yuan agrees, this time with no hesitation. “Sleep. I’ll wake you up in the morning.”

Ouyang Zizhen sleeps until noon the next day. When he wakes up, Wen Yuan is gone.

Wen Yuan’s only wish, the one thing keeping him from moving on, had been wanting a friend. Ouyang Zizhen became his friend—he helped a lost soul move on. He should be proud. Instead, he cries until his throat is parched, and then he just lies there. He doesn’t know how long. Eventually, Nie Huaisang comes and finds him—so maybe not that long at all.

Nie Huaisang forces him to drink water and eat food, and draws him a bath which Ouyang Zizhen just sits in until he’s all wrinkled like a prune, and then Nie Huaisang has to drag him out and make him dry himself and wear some clothes.

After it all, they sit at the dining table and Nie Huaisang says, “You’re a mess, you know that?”

Ouyang Zizhen has known that for a very long time. “Mn,” he agrees.

“You need to feed yourself or you might collapse again.”

Ouyang Zizhen didn’t collapse…or maybe he did. He’d experienced quite a few sensations during his meltdown, so maybe he really had collapsed. He dips his head. “Okay.”

Satisfied, Nie Huaisang leaves. Ouyang Zizhen stays in his bed.

Three days later, he decides that it has probably been a good while since he visited Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi’s grave, because now there is spiritual grass growing over it. He’s not surprised—they were both exceptional cultivators, so of course their bodies would provide the nourishment to grow the plants.

Ouyang Zizhen stands five steps away from it and wishes he could get closer. And—he could. He really could. But there are reasons he shouldn’t.

He does not think about the reasons. He simply turns around and walks away.

When Nie Huaisang next comes to visit, he expresses his concern over Ouyang Zizhen’s continually declining health. “Winter is coming soon,” he says, “and I was going to let this continue on but…I can’t trust you to take care of yourself enough to stay alive. I’ll be bringing you to the Unclean Realms in a few weeks, okay?”

“Okay.” Ouyang Zizhen does not want to go anywhere near the Unclean Realms. He never would, if he had the choice. Nie Huaisang is not giving him a choice.

Nie Huaisang squints at him. “You…take care of yourself. I know you may not have noticed, but you’re going to experience serious health problems at this rate. Like…like death.” His eyes are far away as he says it.

Ouyang Zizhen knows. He just doesn’t particularly care, and—that’s the first time he’s admitted it to himself. I don’t care if I die. As he glances around the cabin, finding it empty, devoid of Wen Yuan’s warmth and any real indication that an actual person lives in it, he realizes…would anyone care? The only person he can think of would be Nie Huaisang, and he’s a Sect Leader who almost definitely has better things to do.

Things Ouyang Zizhen is keeping him from. He really has screwed up, hasn’t he?

He lets himself agree with Nie Huaisang, and then promptly stops listening to anything the man has to say. Either their time is up or Nie Huaisang gives up because he eventually leaves.

Ouyang Zizhen does not want to go to the Unclean Realms. He has four weeks to stop that from happening.

Two weeks in, he finds Wen Yuan sitting on Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi’s grave. He knows that it’s not the real Wen Yuan, just a figment of his imagination, because the real Wen Yuan is much too kind to give him a look of such disdain, even if he deserves it.

Ouyang Zizhen stands four steps away from the grave, and wishes he could get closer. “I’m insane,” he says.

Wen Yuan frowns at him. “You’re only realizing that now?”

“No.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

Talking to a figment of his imagination because there’s no one else left. “Watching over the grave.”

“You think you have the right, even after you couldn’t get them a coffin?”

Ouyang Zizhen sits down, scowling. “No one’s gonna stop me.” He hates this Wen Yuan with a burning passion, but this Wen Yuan is actually just Ouyang Zizhen, so basically it’s a roundabout way of saying he hates himself. He needs to start getting to the point quicker.

“Yeah—you’ve gotten rid of anyone who could.”

Ouyang Zizhen looks away. “Don’t tell me things I already know.”

“Then accept them.”

This Wen Yuan is mean and irritable and unwieldy—nothing like the real Wen Yuan. This Wen Yuan even has Ouyang Zizhen’s voice. Ouyang Zizhen wants to shove him into the spiritual grass until he stops being terrible.

He can’t get closer. Wen Yuan laughs.

Three weeks in, Ouyang Zizhen realizes he’s running out of time. Nie Huaisang is going to drag him to the Unclean Realms soon. He needs to stop procrastinating.

He manages to get out of bed at sunrise, cook himself a meal, and pick some berries. It is a good day. Tomorrow, he foresees himself being unable to move at all. It happens in patterns. Ever since he decided that he can’t go to the Unclean Realms, his bouts of having no energy and staring at the ceiling have lessened to two days at a time. Or maybe not. It gets hard to tell sometimes.

He decides to be proactive. He sits two steps away from the grave instead of three. He gets a lot done that day.

***

Ouyang Zizhen’s first companion was a cat named Mimi. Back then he didn’t have any friends, still hiding behind his mother’s robes when faced with those he didn’t know, so when his father got him a pet cat, it became his life.

Mimi was a tiny, tenacious thing that would fill Ouyang Zizhen’s days with laughter.

One night, he slipped Mimi some beef from his own dinner. The next morning, Mimi was dead. She was just as allergic to beef as he was to spiritual plants, and she’d died while no one had noticed.

He himself was very small back then, so he was just sad. He didn’t look into Mimi’s death. Now, he thinks about it more thoroughly. Her throat closed up, her skin got little red bumps, and she died in agonizing asphyxiation. It does not look fun.

But still, he can’t think of anything else. When he stands one step away from the grave, he feels dizzy with adrenalin. Wen Yuan stands right next to him. “So, you’ve made up your mind, huh?”

Ouyang Zizhen ignores him. Wen Yuan continues, “Are you going to leave any problems behind? Sect Leader Nie has been awfully kind to you. Will you become a headache for him? Become a resentful ghost of some sort?”

“No.” He’s absolutely sure of it. There’s not a bit of resentment left in him. He’s empty.

He wonders if Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi would be proud of him for everything that he’s done. Wen Yuan says, “Probably not. Now, go on.”

Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t need to be told twice. He lies down on Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi’s grave, face-down, waiting. Waiting for them to accept him, even if they aren’t proud of him. Waiting for the whispers in his years, like the ones he’d heard while burying them.

Ouyang Zizhen wanted to help them move on. Ouyang Zizhen is too good at his job. Slowly, he can’t breathe, and he feels even emptier than before, because Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi aren’t here for him when he needs them. He really, really wants to see them in his next life. He wants to be their friends again.

When they don’t respond, he tries Wen Yuan, who has also moved on. The ugly caricature that Ouyang Zizhan has created, though, is smiling at him for once. Ouyang Zizhen thinks that he can afford to be selfish for once, and Wen Yuan must agree because he sits down right next to him, and when Ouyang Zizhen is finally no longer able to breathe, he can pretend he has a friend right next to him.

He’s not very good at pretending.

(Maybe this is what Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling and Wen Yuan and Mimi felt like when they died: alone. Empty. Unloved.

Ouyang Zizhen really has screwed up.)

#mdzs #mdzs fanfic #ouyang zizhen #oyzz #lan jingyi #ljy #jin ling #jl #lan sizhui #lsz #nie huaisang #nhs #tw: suicide #angst #like this is pure angst #hurt no comfort #YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED #sssrha fics

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antebunny · 3 years

Text

Part 4 of the Maleficent AU. (Part three here).

Lan Wangji meets Mo Xuanyu almost four years after Wei Ying disappeared. He’s Jin Zixuan’s half-brother. One of his half-brothers, anyway. Jin Zixuan is the peacock spirit, but Mo Xuanyu has no wings.

Neither does Wei Ying. Not anymore.

Mo Xuanyu makes his existence known to Lan Wangji on the very day that the guest disciples arrive at the Cloud Recesses. He peeks out from the rows of Jin disciples, and something about his silver eyes looks unsettling contrasted with the bright Jin gold robes. Or perhaps it is just that Lan Wangji does not like someone who looks so much like Wei Ying to be dressed in Jin gold.

Somehow, Mo Xuanyu is the highest ranked Jin disciple there. Lan Wangji has no idea how this happened; he didn’t think Jin Guangshan cared about his bastard children other than to use them as props. But Jin Zixuan is now married with a two year old son, and every higher ranking Jin disciples has already attended the lectures, which means that Mo Xuanyu is the de facto leader of this year’s Jin disciples.

“Welcome to the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Xichen says.

He’s still the one to greet the guest disciples, despite now being the official sect leader, because he knows better than to ask Lan Wangji to do it. He barely managed to get Lan Wangji out here at all. Lan Wangji thought he was antisocial before Wei Ying; after Wei Ying, he isn’t sure he’ll manage to talk to anyone, at all, ever again.

Mo Xuanyu bows back, followed by his fellow disciples. “It is an honor, Sect Leader Lan.” When he straightens, there’s a smile on his face, a smile that invites Lan Xichen in on an untold joke.

Lan Wangji wants to wipe that smile off his face. It doesn’t belong to him. Neither does the bright, easy cadence he speaks with. Or the way his silver eyes crinkle when he smiles. Or the way the Jin disciples follow him like lost ducklings, asking for his advice on sword forms and talismans. Or the way he sometimes skips so high he stumbles upon landing, like he expected to continue going up. Or the way he undeterringly manages to worm his way into a heart that Lan Wangji had sworn belonged to someone else what feels like a lifetime ago.

But the thing is, no one knows what happened to the Jiangs all those years ago. The Cloud Recesses were the first, but not the last place the Jiangs vanished from. Within a week there were no more Jiangs out on night hunts in the human realm. The Jiangs visiting other sects all disappear overnight, and no one has heard from them since. Most suspect a heavenly war of some sort, but only Lan Wangji and his family know that Wei Ying was the first Jiang to disappear. He doesn’t know why Wei Ying would be at the center of a heavenly war. He can’t imagine what changed the night of Wei Ying’s Grounding that placed him at the epicenter of a heavenly war. He also doesn’t understand why Wei Ying wouldn’t come to him for help, if that was indeed the case.

Lan Wangji can’t fathom what occurred to make all the Jiangs disappear, and then for Wei Ying to come back in disguise as his brother-in-law’s half-brother, but all evidence points towards that being the case.

“Lan Zha–Lan Wangji!” Mo Xuanyu spins around gracefully, back to the cave mouth. “What are you doing here?”

This is the third time in one week that Lan Wangji has caught him snooping around the caves at the top of the Gusu mountains. He’s getting more obvious–in terms of getting caught, and in terms of what he’s looking for. The cave that Wei Ying Mo Xuanyu is looking for is higher still, almost at the very top of the mountain. Lan Wangji knows because he goes there once a week. In fact, he was going there now, when he encountered Mo Xuanyu.

“This area is forbidden,” Lan Wangji says instead.

“Forbidden? I had no idea!” Mo Xuanyu is the very picture of innocence. “Did the Lans add even more rules since–uh, last year?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says. “Four.”

Mo Xuanyu makes the same face that Wei Ying an exaggerated face of disbelief. “How is anyone supposed to remember so many rules?”

If this were Wei Ying, Lan Wangji would say “practice,” or maybe “discipline,” and Wei Ying would react like he’d told the funniest joke. Lan Wangji dares to hope, but he does not dare to joke. Instead, he says nothing at all.

“Well, I, uh,” Mo Xuanyu says, sidling past Lan Wangji, “I’m just going to go now, if the young master doesn’t mind.”

Mo Xuanyu takes off running down the mountain. He skips over stones, his feet doing a little extra twist in the air like he doesn’t realize they’re going to come down. He jumps down ledges, runs down valleys and through the Gusu pines. He jumps, and he falls.

And he falls.

Wei Wuxian spends three terrible months in the Cloud Recesses before he finds the right cave. Every moment until then is a confusing mess, because the more time he spends with Lan Zhan, the less sure he is of everything.

But the moment he enters the cave, his world narrows in focus. Row after row of wings line the walls. He recognizes most of them; they come in all sizes and shapes, from heron wings to rosefinch wings. Wei Wuxian wants to take all of them with him, return them to Lotus Pier, but he can’t. Lan Zhan’s been onto him, recently. It’s like every time Wei Wuxian even thinks of sneaking out into the mountains, Lan Zhan is there to remind him that he’s not allowed to. Unfortunately for Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian is good at adapting! And their cat and mouse game has led Wei Wuxian here, to the cave at the top of the mountains.

Wei Wuxian can’t even stop to look at the other pairs of wings, because Lan Zhan is probably stalking through the mountains somewhere, trying to find him. He follows the unseen force calling in further in the cave. Almost absently, he flicks one hand out, burning up a talisman that he’s kept on him ever since he came back to the Cloud Recesses.

And at the very back of the cave he sees them: his wings. They’re not hung up on the wall like the others, but placed on a cloth on the floor. As he approaches, heart hammering in his chest, he sees that they’ve been well cared for. Later the thought of others touching his wings will fill him with revulsion, but for now he’s overwhelmed with happiness at seeing his wings again.

Footsteps echo from outside the cave, and Wei Wuxian snaps out of his fugue. He reaches for his wings with trembling hands, and they fuse back into place like they were never gone. An electric jolt shoots up Wei Wuxian spine, straightening his back while his mouth falls open at the sudden, familiar weight.

Wei Wuxian turns around unsteadily, off-balance for the first time in years. He flexes the long-unused back muscles, and tears spring to his eyes when his wings flex with them, sending a massive rush of wind through the cave. He takes off in a run, skips once, and flaps his wings once. The massive push sends him skimming across the stone floor all the way to the mouth of the cave.

He’s brimming with exhilaration as he steps outside the cave, which is exactly when he sees Lan Zhan.

Ah, Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian doesn’t even know where to begin untangling his feelings towards Lan Zhan. He’s had little to do in the past three years but do so, yet all he’s managed to do is confuse himself more.

Perhaps the worst part of past-Wei Wuxian is that he would’ve given Lan Zhan his wings if only he’d asked. He never had to trick Wei Wuxian into marriage. Wei Wuxian knows what the worst part of present-Wei Wuxian is: he still doesn’t know what Lan Zhan would’ve done after he stole his wings. The question fills him with dread as much as it fills him with hope, and he’s never managed to kill the hope completely.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan sounds overwrought. His intense gaze drinks Wei Wuxian in like he’s water in the desert.

Wei Wuxian takes a step back. He hates how just the sound of his name makes his boots grind into the ground, like he could just sink away. “Lan Zhan,” he replies, and in the distance he sees flecks of purple in the sky.

Lan Zhan takes two steps forward. Any closer, and he’ll be within reach of Wei Wuxian, who’s already at the cave entrance. “I do not understand.”

Wei Wuxian draws his wings back until the tips brush against the top of the cave entrance. Then with one powerful thrust, he’s up in the air, one foot above the ground, two feet. The flecks of purple become indistinct blobs. He doesn’t have time to enjoy it, not with the sudden, furious rush of anger. “You don’t understand?”

“Why did you leave?” Lan Zhan asks, so earnestly.

“Why did I leave?” Wei Wuxian splutters, furious. His feet are at the height of Lan Zhan’s head. “Why did you do this?” One sharp gesture of his hand motions to the wings.

The purple blobs become tiny figures. Then tiny figures with wings.

“I do not understand,” Lan Zhan says again, so plainly that Wei Wuxian wants to cry.

“It’s not that complicated,” Wei Wuxian snarls. “Why did you betray me?”

Lan Zhan’s golden eyes widen. “I would never,” he denies.

“You’d never what?” Wei Wuxian shouts. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Betray your fiance? Mutilate your fiance?”

Behind Lan Zhan, hundreds of Jiang disciples swoop down from the skies, wings flared open, swords drawn. At their head are three of the four members of the main Jiang family.

“Fiance,” Madame Yu scoffs. “What a joke.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t turn around, or acknowledge the Jiangs’ presence in any way. “Wei Ying,” he says again, helplessly. Hopelessly.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. Slowly, he drifts to the ground, until he’s once more eye to eye with Lan Zhan. He takes two steps forward, and the Jiangs stand back, waiting for him to make a decision. “Why?”

#so i hated writing this #will revisit in the morning but #i don't think i'm doing this again #but i did promise #mdzs #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #my writing #writeblr

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years

Text

An ally

This follows directly after Hearsay

Lan Xichen is reading over the report of the first day of the Cultivator Conference when the door to the hanshi slides open.

He doesn’t get many visitors, seeing as he’s still in seclusion, so that only leaves two options. And since he didn’t hear Wei Wuxian in the garden, it’s more likely that it’s Lan Qiren instead of his brother.

Lan Xichen finds that he’s right when he puts the report down and raises his head, but when he tries to stand up to bow to Lan Qiren, he winks him off.

“Don’t stand on ceremony, today, Xichen,” Lan Qiren tells him. “I’m here as your uncle.”

“Shufu,” Lan Xichen greets him then, still bowing his head because even if he’s not here as the acting Sect Leader, he is Lan Xichen’s elder.

When Lan Qiren sits down, Lan Xichen gets up to prepare tea for the both of them, and Lan Qiren waits silently until Lan Xichen is sitting down opposite of him again.

“What is wrong, shufu?” Lan Xichen asks, because it has never happened that Lan Qiren opens a conversation with insisting on doing it as family.

“You had frequent dealings with Yunmeng Jiang in the past,” Lan Qiren starts, stroking his beard in thought and dread settles in Lan Xichen’s gut.

“Has something happened?” he wants to know, hands tightening on his cup. “Is there a problem?”

He hopes not; he is glad they have Jiang Cheng as an ally, if not friend, and if something should jeopardize that relationship Lan Xichen would have to act.

“Nothing of the sort you are thinking,” Lan Qiren reassures him before he winces slightly. “But if Wangji keeps it up, we might have a problem on our hands sooner rather than later.”

“What is going on, shufu?” Lan Xichen asks again, now almost burning with the need to know what has his uncle all worried.

“Jiang Wanyin brought his right hand man,” Lan Qiren says, catching Lan Xichen by surprise and his eyes go wide. “Jiang Xiuying, is his name, I believe.”

“Yes,” Lan Xichen carefully says, unsure what his uncle is leading up to.

And Lan Xichen will not give that secret away carelessly.

“I have never seen him in the Cloud Recesses before,” Lan Qiren muses and Lan Xichen ducks his head.

“I believe there were events preventing him from coming before,” Lan Xichen diplomatically says. “I have met him during other Conferences though.”

“I thought so,” Lan Qiren says and then he sighs. “Remember, Xichen, I’m here as family,” Lan Qiren reiterates and he only goes on when Lan Xichen nods.

“He’s Lan Zhi, is he not?”

Lan Xichen presses his lips together. So his uncle recognized him. Lan Xichen wonders who else recognized the right hand of the Yunmeng Leader, and he hopes there aren’t too many.

“I believe so, yes,” Lan Xichen whispers, aware that he must give an answer and he just hopes that he didn’t bring more grief to Jiang Cheng and Jiang Xiuying.

“You knew,” Lan Qiren states, and Lan Xichen looks out of the window. “I barely recognized him; he was barely more than a boy when he left, worn down by resentment and anger, burdened by rules he couldn’t follow. He looks good now. Healthy and happy.”

“Why is he here?” Lan Xichen asks in turn, unwilling to confirm that he has known who Jiang Xiuying is for a long time but he silently has to agree with Lan Qiren’s assessment.

Jiang Xiuying has flourished at Jiang Cheng’s side.

“He always found reasons not to come,” Lan Xichen goes on when Lan Qiren has been quiet for too long. “Why is he here now?”

“Sect Leader Yao brought the matter of his missing right hand man to Wangji a few weeks back,” Lan Qiren says and Lan Xichen frowns.

“I haven’t heard about this.”

“It happened ten years ago,” Lan Qiren says and his tone alone makes it clear what he thinks of Sect Leader Yao’s accusations at this point. “He blames Jiang Wanyin.”

“Of course he would,” Lan Xichen breathes out and lightly shakes his head. “What did Wangji say?”

“He rightfully said he couldn’t apprehend Jiang Wanyin on mere hearsay of a thing that happened so long ago. It didn’t stop Sect Leader Yao from marching into Lotus Pier and demanding justice.”

“I take it he gathered quite the following?” Lan Xichen wants to know and he sighs when Lan Qiren nods.

“So Jiang Xiuying is here because he’s worried for his Sect Leader.”

“I believe so, yes,” Lan Qiren agrees and then his shoulders fall, just the slightest bit, but from Lan Qiren it’s almost as if he’s slouching. “Tell me what happened,” he whispers and Lan Xichen takes a deep breath before he nods.

“But this is not your secret to tell,” he reminds Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen only goes on when he nods. “You saw what became of Lan Zhi here. He couldn’t adhere to the rules and he thought he couldn’t leave. When he found the scripts Wangji kept of Wei Wuxian it only got worse.”

“So he did practice demonic cultivation,” Lan Qiren mutters and Lan Xichen shrugs.

“He left before he did something unforgivable with it, if you remember, and he vanished into the woods. Jiang Cheng was seen in the same area only days later. When I visited him a month after Lan Zhi vanished, Jiang Cheng had gained a new disciple. One who kept to the back and made sure to never really look at me.”

“You recognized him anyway,” Lan Qiren says and Lan Xichen nods.

“They clearly wanted to keep it a secret; Jiang Cheng drew my attention away from him more than once and made sure to let me know his name. His new name. I never mentioned it.”

“Does Jiang Wanyin know that you have been keeping his secret?”

“I’m not sure. I think he suspects.”

“Is he doing this often?” Lan Qiren wants to know, clearly thinking to all the rumoured killings that float around.

“I believe so,” Lan Xichen gives back and at Lan Qiren’s incredulous look he shrugs. “Think about it, shufu. He built his sect up from nothing. There were no disciples left. And yet there is no denying that Yunmeng Jiang is the strongest of the Four Great Sects. Where do you think he gets his people?”

“He is giving them shelter,” Lan Qiren says in understanding but Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“He’s giving them a home. I paid attention after I saw Jiang Xiuying for the first time. Whenever there is a rumour about a demonic cultivator Jiang Cheng shows up a few days later, yes. But what no one seems to have realized is that a few days, weeks, sometimes even months later a new disciple shows up in his sect seemingly out of nowhere.”

“Sect Leader Yao’s right hand man?”

“I would bet Liebing on the fact that he’s with Jiang Cheng,” Lan Xichen says with a small smile and without hesitation. “He has a habit of picking up strays, of helping them.”

“Have you been helping him?” Lan Qiren suddenly asks, voice sharp and Lan Xichen flushes.

“I don’t think you could call it that,” he waves off. “I listen to the rumours. And then I make sure they reach Lotus Pier.”

“Are you in correspondence with him?”

“No,” Lan Xichen quickly says and fiddles with the hem of his robe. “But not all disciples refuse to gossip. There are a few who are especially prone to breaking that rule. If they find themselves on more night hunts in the Yunmeng area, that’s neither here nor there,” Lan Xichen admits with a sheepish smile and Lan Qiren stares him down before he gives him a tiny nod.

“You have done well, Xichen,” he tells him, but Lan Xichen is quick to shake his head.

“Jiang Cheng is the one who is doing well. He’s doing right by all the people we wronged,” Lan Xichen says. “And he doesn’t want anyone to know, so please never bring it up,” he is quick to tack on and Lan Qiren strokes his beard again.

“With how things are going, he’ll have to let people know eventually,” he mutters and he only explains himself when Lan Xichen shoots him a worried look. “Wangji and Wei Wuxian accused him of another murder today. Sect Leader Yao’s march into Lotus Pier has brought the issue to new attention to everyone, and Jiang Wanyin is being scrutinized now. One wrong step and Wangji will act on his believes.”

“But Jiang Cheng did nothing!”

“And yet he is unwilling to explain,” Lan Qiren calmly gives back. “I understand that the well-being of his people is at stake, but he might have to tell the truth eventually.”

“He will fight it. He would rather die than let harm come to his people.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Lan Qiren gravely says and Lan Xichen can only whole-heartedly agree.

But before it comes to that, he will speak out in favour of Jiang Cheng, if he wants the truth to be known or not.

~*~*~

“Sect Leader Lan is inviting us for dinner,” Jiang Xiuying quietly says when he steps into Jiang Cheng’s room and he is unnaturally pale.

Jiang Cheng wants to send him home immediately, but he knows Jiang Xiuying would never leave.

“What does the old goat want now?” Jiang Cheng grumbles, but he remembers the scrutinizing look he gave Jiang Xiuying all too well, and Jiang Cheng can guess what he wants.

“No,” Jiang Xiuying says with a shake of his head. “Lan Xichen,” he explains then and some of the tension leaves Jiang Cheng’s body.

“Ah,” he gives back but then shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, I will tell him you are indisposed.”

“You will not,” Jiang Xiuying gives back, his voice hard. “I will accompany you. I am done running from my past.”

“Xiuying,” Jiang Cheng still tries, simply because he cannot help himself.

It’s his job to shield his people from the past.

“Don’t even try it,” Jiang Xiuying tells him and Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. “I know you think it’s your job to protect us, but it is our job to protect you. And I will not let you go to that meeting alone.”

“Lan Xichen is hardly a threat. Isn’t he still in seclusion?” Jiang Cheng tries to downplay it, but Jiang Xiuying only narrows his eyes at him.

“He is. Which makes this even more worrying. You’re not getting me out of this, so stop trying.”

“Who is the Sect Leader between us?” Jiang Cheng asks, even though he knows he has lost that fight.

Jiang Xiuying can out-stubborn anyone if he wants to, and clearly today he wants to.

“I ask myself the same question almost daily,” Jiang Xiuying gives back with a biting smile, but then he softens. “You know I appreciate everything you do for me,” he says and Jiang Cheng throws his hands in the air.

“It’s not like you’re letting me do much, lately,” he snipes back but he deflates when Jiang Xiuying simply stares at him. “I just don’t want you to force yourself to face them,” Jiang Cheng finally says and Jiang Xiuying smiles at him.

“I’m not forcing myself. I am going on my own free will. It will be fine. And besides, Lan Xichen was never the reason I left.”

“But he didn’t stop you either,” Jiang Cheng mutters, and then rolls his eyes. “Fine. Accompany me, see if I care.”

“All I see is you caring,” Jiang Xiuying honestly gives back and Jiang Cheng flushes bright red.

“Shut up,” he snarls and Jiang Xiuying gives him a bright smile.

“I think it’s time to leave now, if we want to make it in time,” he pleasantly gives back, as if he didn’t just almost kill Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng wonders what he ever did to deserve a right hand man like this.

Even in his own head it doesn’t sound as biting and mean as he wanted it to.

A disciple is already waiting for them when they step out of Jiang Cheng’s room, and he quickly leads them towards a secluded house, far off the main part of the Cloud Recesses.

“It’s the hanshi,” Jiang Xiuying mutters when the house comes into view. “Lan Xichen’s personal quarters.”

“We really shouldn’t be here,” Jiang Cheng mutters back, but by then they are already at the door and Jiang Cheng raises his chin and straightens his shoulders.

Jiang Xiuying chuckles at his attempt to shield him from Lan Xichen, but of course his eyes immediately fall on Jiang Xiuying the moment he opens the door.

“I’m glad to see you here,” Lan Xichen says, his eyes now firmly on Jiang Cheng as he lets them into the hanshi.

“I have to be honest, it was a surprise, getting the invitation,” Jiang Cheng honestly says and Lan Xichen gives him a small smile.

“A pleasant one, I hope.”

“That remains to be seen,” Jiang Cheng gives back, and sends Lan Xichen a sharp glare, much to Jiang Xiuying’s displeasure it seems.

“It’s a great honour, Sect Leader Lan,” he says with a small bow and Jiang Cheng itches to move in front of him when Lan Xichen’s eyes fall on him again.

Jiang Cheng logically knows that it’s probably too late to protect Jiang Xiuying’s true identity; he’s aware that Lan Xichen recognized him a long time ago, but Jiang Cheng can’t help himself.

“Please, sit,” Lan Xichen softly says, pointing at the already prepared dinner and Jiang Cheng and Jiang Xiuying sit down without a word.

Jiang Cheng is tense, just waiting for the other shoe to drop, and indeed it doesn’t take all that long.

Lan Xichen doesn’t even reach for his rice, before he turns serious eyes on Jiang Xiuying and Jiang Cheng itches with the need to bring Lan Xichen’s focus back to him.

“My uncle has recognized you,” Lan Xichen says without preamble and Jiang Cheng sucks in a sharp breath, while Jiang Xiuying simply smiles at Lan Xichen.

“I thought so,” he easily says, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand where he finds the calmness to do so.

“You know who he is, too,” Jiang Cheng hisses and Zidian sparks on his finger.

Lan Xichen barely takes his eyes off Jiang Xiuying and it only makes Jiang Cheng more furious.

“I won’t do you the disservice of uttering the name you have left behind, but I know you weren’t always named Jiang Xiuying,” Lan Xichen says, pleasant as ever, and Jiang Cheng stands up.

“Who have you told,” Jiang Cheng demands to know, and is strangely satisfied when Lan Xichen turns towards him, while Jiang Xiuying tries to get him to sit down again.

“No one,” Lan Xichen is quick to reassure them. “And my uncle won’t either, for as long as you don’t want to.”

“Right,” Jiang Cheng scoffs, but Lan Xichen holds his gaze and there is nothing but honesty in his gaze.

“I promise you, there will come no harm to you or your people by my uncle’s or my hands,” Lan Xichen promises him and Jiang Cheng works his jaw a few times, before he abruptly sits down again.

“There better not,” he threatens Lan Xichen, who takes it with a graceful nod of his head and then his eyes turn back to Jiang Xiuying.

“I will forever regret that the Cloud Recesses couldn’t give you what you needed, but I am glad you found a home.”

“The home found me,” Jiang Xiuying says with a small smile to Jiang Cheng and then bows at Lan Xichen. “It was never your leadership that made me turn to darker paths,” Jiang Xiuying whispers then, but Lan Xichen only smiles sadly at him.

“But it also wasn’t my leadership that brought you confidence,” he replies. “I am sorry I failed you.”

Jiang Cheng has to admit that Lan Xichen just gained a couple of points with him, rising in his regard for being able to openly admit to his mistakes and he is no longer surprised when Jiang Xiuying smiles at Lan Xichen.

“I don’t hold a grudge,” Jiang Xiuying promises and then his smile turns sly. “And I’m guessing we have you to thank for a lot of saved souls.”

It’s almost funny to see Lan Xichen’s ears flush at that and Jiang Cheng sighs.

“So you really have been sending the most gossiping bunch of your people to joint night hunts,” he remarks as he picks up his tea and Lan Xichen shrugs, still visibly flustered.

“I had to help somehow,” Lan Xichen mutters into his own tea, but then he raises his head again. “Please, just know, that whatever Wangji is doing, he’s doing in his position as Chief Cultivator. There are no ties to this sect. If it is ever needed, if they should take action against you, Gusu Lan will stand with you,” Lan Xichen firmly states.

Jiang Cheng hadn’t known what open support would mean to him, but he can’t deny that his eyes burn a little bit at Lan Xichen’s words and that his breath comes a little bit quicker than it should. To know that someone besides his family knows and supports him, means more than Jiang Cheng could ever have imagined.

“Thank you, Sect Leader Lan,” Jiang Xiuying says when it becomes apparent that Jiang Cheng won’t find his words for a short while yet and Lan Xichen smiles brightly at them.

“Now, with business out of the way, let us enjoy this meal,” Lan Xichen says and pushes the closest dish towards Jiang Cheng. “I invited you for dinner after all.”

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng says as he accepts the dish and going by the knowing look Lan Xichen gives him, he knows that it’s not just for the food.

Dinner, after that, is pleasant and quick and it’s not long before Jiang Cheng and Jiang Xiuying leave the hanshi again.

They walk in silence, right until they step into Jiang Cheng’s room.

“You think we can trust his word?” Jiang Cheng can’t help but to ask, because he still needs to be cautious.

“Yes,” Jiang Xiuying gives back without hesitation. “If he says he stands with us, then he does.”

“You’re awfully quick to trust him, when he’s one of the reasons you left,” Jiang Cheng mutters but Jiang Xiuying shakes his head.

“That’s not quite true, though. His inaction didn’t give me a reason to stay,” he corrects Jiang Cheng. “And Lan Qiren was too much of an influence on him back then. He was younger back then, too,” Jiang Xiuying reminds Jiang Cheng, who sighs at his words.

“I know that,” Jiang Cheng says and then works his jaw a few times, because the words just won’t come.

“But you can’t help but to feel overprotective, I get it,” Jiang Xiuying fills in for him. “And I thank you for it, but it’s long in the past now. I have more happy memories with you and my fellow disciples than I ever had bad ones in this place,” Jiang Xiuying reassures him and Jiang Cheng breathes easier knowing that.

“And I also know that if something were to happen, you’d be there.”

“Always,” Jiang Cheng immediately promises him, because no matter just how well everyone in Lotus Pier heals up, he can never shake the instinct to protect them from everything.

“And we love you all for it,” Jiang Xiuying says, a teasing glint in his eyes and Jiang Cheng huffs at him.

“And the evening is done, good night now,” he courtly says, turning his back to Jiang Xiuying.

“One day, we’ll get you to accept our love and gratitude,” he says and then he presumably bows.

Jiang Cheng is not going to turn around to confirm that.

“Good luck trying,” he mutters, and he is left alone with the soft chuckles of his right hand still in the air.

Jiang Cheng sleeps easy that night.

Next part

{Buy me a kofi}

#bt writes #the untamed #mzds #jiang cheng #lan xichen #jiang xiuying #oc #trust #we finally know that lxc knows #and he supports jc #hurt/comfort

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