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robininthelabyrinth · 6 months

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The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 28

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

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Wen Ruohan had long since passed the point of ever admitting that he was afraid.

His vanity would simply not permit it. After all, he was Wen Ruohan, the sect leader of the mighty Qishan Wen, the near-god, the would-be tyrannical ruler of the cultivation world. He had outstripped all others, his cultivation perfected far beyond what any of the rest could achieve. Perhaps it might have once been acceptable to be afraid when he was younger, when he was just one among many jockeying for position and leadership, but once he’d passed his first lifetime, he’d left such petty human things as fear far behind. Such feelings were as far beneath him as ants to a giant.

He would, however, admit to having some…concern regarding the upcoming battle with Qingheng-jun.

Other people might be able to comfort themselves with the presence of an army at their command, thinking to themselves that they would be able to simply overcome their enemy through force of numbers, but Wen Ruohan did not permit himself any such illusions. Qingheng-jun might be insane, Wen Ruohan had no doubt about that, but he was still immensely clever: he would not let himself be caught out in a bad position like that, taken by surprise.

He’d find a way to force a one-on-one fight.

And given Wen Ruohan’s current condition, it would be a fair fight, the likes of which Wen Ruohan hadn’t known in decades.

Qingheng-jun was after all an accomplished cultivator, talented and promising, and unlike the majority of such cultivators, who got weighed down with the worldly concerns of night-hunting and sect business and married life, he had spent ten solid years in seclusion focusing on nothing but growing his power and refining his techniques. He was much younger and less experienced than Wen Ruohan, to be sure, with much less time to have built up his power and knowledge – but Wen Ruohan, for all his own immense innate talent, was one of those cultivators that devoted much of his time to worldly affairs. He had always cared very much about making sure his sect took its rightful position as first in the world, and furthermore he had used up too much of his spiritual energy fighting the landslide; although the level of his internal strength had not been damaged, it would be months before he recovered enough qi to make proper use of much of it.

The prospect of such a duel would have been different if Wen Ruohan was still at the height of his own power, capable of miracles. If that were the case, even Qingheng-jun with his ten years of unbroken seclusion would pose no real threat to him. But as it was, there was every chance, in his weakened state, that the two of them would balance out in terms of strength. Nor did Wen Ruohan have any advantage in terms of temperament: they were both ruthless, both cruel, even vicious, meaning that false appeals to morality would be insufficient to distract Qingheng-jun long enough to win an advantage, the way they might if used against others.

A fair fight indeed.

Wisdom and experience against youth and promising talent – that was always a tricky match-up. Only fate could say who would come out ahead in the end.

This particular match-up was also particularly pernicious to Wen Ruohan. As a master of arrays, he relied more on having spiritual energy in his fighting style than most cultivators, since arrays and talismans both required ample spiritual energy to use effectively. In contrast, Qingheng-jun was a cultivator that specialized in the sword; while swordplay benefited from the use of spiritual energy, it was in the end a sword – failing everything else, it could always be used simply to stab one’s opponent.

Wen Ruohan could use a sword, of course. What cultivator couldn’t? But it wasn’t his preference, and he was a Wen, innately self-absorbed and self-indulgent – although he didn’t completely neglect his swordplay, he hardly trained in it with the consistency that Lan Qiren did, as reliable as any clock even with his second choice in weapon. On the contrary, Wen Ruohan always played to his strengths: whenever possible, he would much rather use his arrays, relying on his brilliance and his techniques, refined over the years to near perfection, than anything else.

Only this time, he couldn’t.

Wen Ruohan’s most powerful weapon, the black sun, was absolutely out of the question at the moment. It was an immense power, but an equally immense drain, and it fought against him as much as it did the rest of the world that it so thoroughly scorned. If he tried to summon it now, when the question of who would win that battle was murky and unclear, he would only be risking his own doom, and quite possibly that of the entire world. Naturally that was unacceptable – Wen Ruohan might be ruthless and tyrannical, but he wanted to rule the world, not destroy it. Moreover, he was an orthodox cultivator, not some sort of demonic cultivator that fueled their own power upon the deaths of others; carelessness, or even recklessness, with the state of the world would only damage his cultivation and make the bad result he feared even more likely.

Of course, the black sun was far from being his only weapon. He had his usual arrays, and plenty of less usual ones, but even with those, he would need to be measured with their use in a way he’d long since grown unaccustomed to. With limited spiritual energy available, he would have to dole them out sparingly, wisely, and supplement them with his sword – an unfortunate combination that pitted his weakness against Qinhgeng-jun’s strength.

In other words, a match against Qingheng-jun would be like fighting with one hand tied behind his back.

As a result, Wen Ruohan was…appropriately cautious. Not afraid, of course, but wary, vigilant, concerned. Presupposing nothing, not even victory.

He was less concerned now, after last night.

Lan Qiren had been – magnificent.

It was only to be expected, naturally, as no one that Wen Ruohan had chosen to give his heart to would be anything less. And yet, even with that in mind, he could safely say that his expectations, already high, had nevertheless been surpassed in every possible respect. Even Wen Ruohan with all of his many years of experience could definitively say that he had never experienced anything like that before.

It wasn’t just the sex, though that had been excellent as always, or even the unusual intimacy of bedding someone he felt he could genuinely trust and who genuinely trusted him – even if he just focused purely on the practical, the results of their dual cultivation had vastly exceeded anything Wen Ruohan might have anticipated. Lan Qiren had tackled dual cultivation with the same facility with steep learning curves that he’d applied to learning about politics or sex, and as a result, the power they’d been able to generate from it, the power they’d both shared…! Their cultivation techniques were not the most naturally compatible, but they had made it work, and oh, how very well it had worked!

Wen Ruohan was certainly nowhere near to being back to where he had been before he had blown all his spiritual energy on destroying the landslide, but he was confident that Cangse Sanren’s estimate of half a year or more to regain his power had been reduced considerably, and all over the course of a single, highly enjoyable evening. An evening that could be repeated in the future, both before he regained his power and yet again afterwards, finally giving him a chance to see if Lan Qiren’s exceptionally pure golden core would have any sort of effect on increasing his own power beyond the point that he had managed to get by himself…

The simple fact of the matter was that Wen Ruohan loved power, and always had. He had many times been accused of loving it more than anything else, whether wives or children or even sect, and he had to admit, though never aloud, that there might be a grain of truth in that accusation. To have two things he loved together, power and Lan Qiren both…it was as heady an aphrodisiac as he could imagine.

(Also, Lan Qiren’s reaction to finding his own power so substantially increased had been just as funny as Wen Ruohan had been anticipating. He had no regrets about sharing the power equally between them, and nothing would change that, no matter how many complaints of But it was supposed to go to you! or Surely you know I do not have a need for it or even the plaintive But how do I make the glowing stop?! Lan Qiren made.)

Even the song Lan Qiren had written for him had been beyond anything Wen Ruohan had anticipated.

The sound of it had been nothing like anything he was expecting, to the extent he’d expected anything. He’d assumed, he supposed, that the music Lan Qiren wrote with him in mind would be much like his reputation: intense but gloomy, moody and temperamental, unstable and vicious, possibly even somewhat discordant, the lurking insanity slipping its leash and showing its face to the world. Only it had slipped his mind that Lan Qiren, perhaps alone in the world, did not see him that way – and so the song was something else entirely.

It had been intense, to be sure. But it had been striking and grandiose rather than miserable, the music immediately and immensely compelling, extremely complicated in a way that made it impossible to pay attention to anything else, music that thrummed beneath the skin and swept the listener away with its enthusiasm. It was powerful and moving, it filled the ear with joy and sped the pulse with excitement. Listening to it evoked the feeling of being on top of the world – of being the best, of knowing you were the best, of being unrestrained by fear and doubt. Of being free of all the shackles of the world and knowing yourself to be capable of miracles.

It was Wen Ruohan’s beloved Wen sect’s self-esteem – many would say self-love – distilled into its purest form.

But it wasn’t just that. Underneath that exuberance and enthusiasm, the music had a foundation as steady as Lan Qiren’s unshakable principles, turning self-regard into self-assurance, into a bone-deep understanding that in the end you were purely yourself, nothing more nor less, and could be nothing else – and that that was all that you needed to be.

It married irrepressible confidence in the self to implacable surety of the self, and turned them together into power. Into impossible, unstoppable force, which broke down all barriers in its path.

Just like the two of them.

Wen Ruohan had never been the most musically inclined. He’d had a gentleman’s training, of course, and knew both how to appreciate good music and play an instrument if he were called upon to do so. Given his innate brilliance and quick learning capacity, he could even pull off a few tricks of musical cultivation if he really needed to. But it had never been a strength, and with art just as with cultivation, Wen Ruohan always played to his strengths. As a result, music had never been more to him than an enjoyable pastime at best. It had never made its way into his heart, never seized hold of it, the way it seemed to do for musicians.

He’d assumed it never would.

Well: he was wrong.

He could admit it, and joyfully, because what he’d gotten in return was so much better than being right.

Ah, Lan Qiren – Lan Qiren – Lan Qiren, who loved him, who trusted him, who saw him and saw everything he liked about himself, and who in return asked only to be treated with equal regard, to be loved as he loved, as if Wen Ruohan would ever have been able to do anything less –

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

For once, Wen Ruohan did not startle or lash out in paranoiac terror in response to someone having snuck up on him without him noticing – but only due to years of experience at being snuck up on by this particular person.

“And I suppose you, Lao Nie, are here to be irritating,” he remarked, much as he always did, turning his head slowly to regard his…former lover, he supposed.

There was a sharp stabbing pain in his chest when he looked at Lao Nie now, even though the man had exchanged the stormy expression of the discussion conference in favor of his usual relaxed grin, going back to being carefree and careless the way he always was. There was no sign of the emotional turbulence that had put him in such a bad mood, every indication wiped away and hidden, Lao Nie going back to pretending that nothing was wrong and never had been because that was how he had always dealt with the knowledge of his impending untimely death.

But Wen Ruohan knew the truth. He knew what was coming, and how much sooner than expected it was due, even though Lao Nie hadn’t shared that information with him. It hurt him to know it. Not as much as it hurt Lao Nie, who was the one actually dying, he knew that, but it was still pain nonetheless, and as a narcissist Wen Ruohan admittedly tended to rate his own pain as being more important than others.

Seeing Lao Nie here, now, brought up all sorts of uncomfortable feelings.

Seeing him now, here…

Wen Ruohan abruptly frowned. “Why are you here? Did Cangse Sanren reach you so quickly?”

That seemed temporally implausible, if not completely impossible. Qinghe was far too far away – no one could fly that fast, not even him.

“No, I was on my way to Lanling already,” Lao Nie said cheerfully, which made a great deal more sense. “I bumped into Cangse Sanren while she was on her way out of the city and I was on my way in. Don’t worry, we swapped tokens: she gave me her pass to get through your army and into the city, and I gave her my sect leader’s sigil so that she’ll be able to order everyone back at home to collect those cursed coins in my stead. There’s no problem with your plan.”

It was annoying how reliable Lao Nie could be when he wanted to, Wen Ruohan reflected. That was the deceptively alluring part of him. He just knew Wen Ruohan so well – he could tell at a glance exactly what his concerns were and immediately speak to alleviate them.

He made everything easy.

“I’m here to help you find Qingheng-jun,” Lao Nie continued, his smile fading into seriousness. “If he’s trapped in Lanling City, he’s definitely going to go to ground somewhere difficult to reach with multiple people, try to force you into a one-on-one fight that would be more to his advantage. You and I are the only ones I can think of that would be strong enough to match him like that without getting slaughtered. With me here, we can check the possible places twice as fast.”

Like he’d said: with Lao Nie, everything was easy.

It had always been so easy.Easy, easy, easy – right until it was so difficult as to be impossible.

Like winning Lao Nie’s heart, or his loyalty, or his trust, or becoming anything more than just a casual friend that sometimes shared his bed. And not because of any lack on Wen Ruohan’s own part, any paucity or failure in his own feelings or even actions, but simply because Lao Nie simply lacked the capacity to be more than a friend to anyone.

Except maybe his saber.

Wen Ruohan didn’t even pretend to begin to understand how that worked.

“That’s right,” he said, and picked the easier path of not saying anything just yet. Lan Qiren was the one who always chose the harsher and more virtuous path, not Wen Ruohan. He’d wait until Lan Qiren was back and let him raise the difficult subject with Lao Nie, and then, if he had to, he would step in and forcethe man to let them help. “You are very welcome. Do you want to start on the west side of the city or the east?”

“The north, of course, while you take the south. You’re remarkably accommodating today, Hanhan; normally you’re much more possessive about these things! Here I thought I’d have to fight you first just to get a chance to help. Qiren must have put you in a really good mood.”

Not a good enough mood to deal with this.

“I sent Qiren away to Gusu Lan to deal with the coins, and I want to get this finished before he returns,” Wen Ruohan said shortly, and Lao Nie’s growing smirk disappeared at once, meaning that he understood the implication. Which meant that Wen Ruohan didn’t need to explain, but he did anyway, just to make sure that the message had been fully made clear: “The last time they met, Qingheng-jun decided that the taboo against personally murdering blood relatives was beneath him. He tried to kill Qiren. That will not happen again.”

No mercy this time.

“Understood,” Lao Nie said, solemn and serious as he so rarely was. “Understood and agreed. Don’t worry, Hanhan, you can count on me. The Nie sect’s motto is Do not tolerate evil no matter where, remember? Same thing applies when it’s who.”

Wen Ruohan inclined his head in agreement. If there was one thing that could be said for Lao Nie, it was that he was a consummate member of his sect. No evil meant no evil, no matter where, no matter who – just as he had been willing to turn against Wen Ruohan when he’d thought him beyond the point of saving, so too would he turn himself against Qingheng-jun, who had once been his friend.

His friend, and his source of guilt.

Lao Nie was as ruthless and careless with himself and his own heart as he was with anyone else’s, that much was true. Somehow that fact did not help in the slightest.

“Happy hunting,” Wen Ruohan said, and even meant it. Perhaps abiding by his sect’s principles would help Lao Nie the way abiding by his sect’s rules did Lan Qiren.

As for Wen Ruohan, he didn’t bother with such things. Rules and principles were both equally overrated – he didn’t need anyone else’s guidance, only his own; he would make his way in the world through the path he forged himself, and never doubt it for a moment. He mounted his sword and flew off to the south of Lanling City to begin surveying the possible places Qingheng-jun could be hiding.

The number of places was naturally limited, both by his (and Lao Nie’s) guess that Qingheng-jun would look for a place that would allow him a one-on-one fight and by Wen Ruohan’s own army, currently marching through the city and investigating every nook and cranny for those cursed coins. They had all been instructed to light flares if they saw any sign of Qingheng-jun, or alternatively if any number of their squads were drawn off and killed unexpectedly – that would be the first sign of him, more than likely, unless Wen Ruohan happened to get lucky and find him first.

He would prefer, if at all possible, to get lucky. His soldiers might not mean as much to him as his precious sect disciples, who in turn were not as important as his even more valuable family, but they were still his, and everything that was his was better than everything that wasn’t. Everything good under the sun should belong to him.

Now: where could Qingheng-jun be…?

Wen Ruohan could create a tracking array, look for any sort of bolt-hole where there were restrictions on entry. But who knew how many such places existed in Lanling City? Lanling Jin was full of rats that thought themselves vipers; every sub-branch probably had a secret treasure room and a secret armory and whatnot – and Qingheng-jun wouldn’t go find one of those, anyway.

No, he had too much dignity for that.

Wen Ruohan could understand that. Who wanted to risk losing your life in some stupid pointless little treasure room?

In fact, it occurred to him that he was thinking too small. Why search for him building-by-building like some common person? Let him use that same logic: where would Qingheng-jun be willing to have some sort of climactic final battle?

Qingheng-jun was remarkably similar to Wen Ruohan in many ways. He had a profound sense of his own dignity, enough that others would call it vanity, and he would never be willing to associate his name, whether in victory or defeat, with somewhere tawdry – and Jinlin Tower was full from head to toe of all that was gaudy and tawdry.

Especially to someone with a Gusu Lan sensibility.

After all, like it or not, hate it or not, Qingheng-jun had been born and raised in the Gusu Lan sect. Even when he turned against it, despised it, thought he had abjured it in every respect, he had still been shaped by it. Despite everything, he was unable to wholly give up the mindset it had inculcated in him, the principles it had taught him. If he had, he wouldn’t have been so concerned about seeking to implement a fitting punishment for all those he blamed for his wife’s death, rather than merely getting revenge – and he wouldn’t have been so invested in seeking to reform the sect in his own image, rather than destroying it. To implement new rules over the old, rather than to truly break free of the notion of rules entirely.

Gusu Lan, and Wen Ruohan: those two things together formed a very particular personality, with very particular preferences. So…where would Qingheng-jun go? Where would someone accustomed to the clean, gentle lines of the Cloud Recesses voluntarily choose to hide when trapped in this filthy pit of gold and greed?

Ah, of course.

The gardens.

Wen Ruohan might not the most devoted swordsman, might not be particularly notable as a musician, but he vastly preferred either of those subjects over the discussion of things like flowers – and yet, despite that, he had somehow spent a not-inconsiderable portion of his time over the past hundred years listening to the endless rounds of debate between Lanling Jin and Gusu Lan regarding whether gardens ought to retain their natural wild and austere beauty or be tamed into gorgeous wanton snarls of petals and color pieced together by human ingenuity. His Nightless City had established several gardens of each type just to avoid having that particular debate come up ever again, but the other sects still persisted in defending their preferences.

In a fit of completely characteristic pettiness, the Jin sect leader of several generations back – further back than Wen Ruohan could recall, which was saying something – had set up a single garden in Lanling City that was modeled after Gusu Lan’s preferred style, presumably to make the point that no one would possibly choose such a thing if they had the lush gardens of Jinlin Tower as an alternative option. The people of Lanling City had fulfilled this particular sect leader’s desire, leaving that particular park largely abandoned, although whether the people’s preference was a genuine aesthetic choice or merely the wisdom of not disagreeing with their local overlord had always been an open question.

It had been named, very snidely, the Paired Birds Promenade.

Yes: Wen Ruohan could see Qingheng-jun going there.

It would be just right for someone as self-important and overly dramatic as him.

(It wasn’t hypocrisy to say as much, Wen Ruohan informed the rather rudely goggling Lan Qiren in his mind. He’d never denied his flaws – he merely did not acknowledge them to be flaws when they were his own.)

And because Wen Ruohan was unquestionably brilliant, he found Qingheng-jun exactly where he expected to.

“I find it difficult to say whether it should be called vanity or arrogance,” Qingheng-jun said, almost as if he were continuing the conversation Wen Ruohan had been having in his own mind. He was standing on a lonesome hill towards the eastern end of the gardens, shaded by a scholar tree – he had a particularly heroic bearing at the moment, his pale blue robes and his hair lightly ruffled by the wind as he gazed out into the distance. “Coming here by yourself, I mean.”

“Did I rob you of the chance to show off your talisman work?” Wen Ruohan asked idly, stepping off his sword and onto the ground, feeling the circle of restriction that he’d expected to find snap immediately into effect, keeping anyone from joining them and making it an unbalanced fight. It was a good one, irritatingly enough. As he’d expected, he would find no obvious weaknesses here. “I’m not inclined to waste my soldiers for such a purpose.”

Qingheng-jun turned to regard him, his expression cold and indifferent. His face was oddly dissimilar from Lan Qiren’s, despite the strong resemblance of their features, both classic exemplars of the Lan style – Lan Qiren’s expression was often neutral, often flat, but rarely cold, and never indifferent. He was warm beneath his seemingly remote façade, the heat from his fiery temper and passionate heart always present even when he tried to suppress them. Qingheng-jun, by contrast…

There was nothing there.

“I would have thought that you’d think it a worthwhile trade if it meant wearing me down before we fought,” Qingheng-jun said, his logic pristine and ruthless, cold as any mountain snow. “Soldiers’ lives are meant for spending.”

His lip curled up in a sneer. “Or is it that my younger brother would disapprove of such a maneuver that now restrains you…?”

“Wrong on all counts. As much as I respect Qiren, for once his opinion was irrelevant to my consideration,” Wen Ruohan said, enjoying the way Qingheng-jun’s eyes narrowed at the praise of his brother. “You forget: my soldiers are mine, and are therefore more valuable than anyone who isn’t. Their lives may be for spending – but you think too much of yourself if you think I would bother to spend them on you.”

Qingheng-jun pressed his lips together briefly, but did not lose his temper.

“Tell me,” he said instead, voice slow and thoughtful. “What is it about him?”

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows, even as he waved his hand, letting his sword leap into his hand. “You mean Lan Qiren?”

Qingheng-jun inclined his head in agreement.

“You shall have to clarify. What about him?”

“You said that you…respect him.” Qingheng-jun sneered once again, the expression twisting his otherwise handsome face. “The so-great Wen Ruohan – I hadn’t realized that you respected anyone but yourself.”

“Myself and my family,” Wen Ruohan corrected. He’d always been quite clear about his partiality to his own clan. Like any good descendant of Wen Mao, he rated his clan above the rest: the sun in the sky above all had been his ancestor’s motto, proud and arrogant, and Wen Ruohan was only the most successful of his descendants, not necessarily the most ambitious. They were all like that.

“Yourself and your family – and my brother. Apparently.”

“And your brother,” Wen Ruohan said agreeably. “Apparently.”

He chuckled at the aggravation on Qingheng-jun’s face and meandered forward, his pace slow and steady, as if he were merely here to stroll in the park. Even his sword dangled from his hand, lazy and bored – apathy and indolence incarnate, his sloth simultaneously genuine and a deliberate insult to anyone he was facing.

“Does it really bother you so much?” he asked, though he knew it did.

“I merely wish to understand,” Qingheng-jun said. That was a lie, and they both knew it – do not tell lies, but of course Qingheng-jun considered himself above such things. “Only…why him?”

It was a good question.

Good, and also incredibly stupid.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Wen Ruohan admitted freely. “But that’s not how love works. Don’t you know that best of all…?”

He saw from the look on Qingheng-jun’s face that that strike had hit true.

“Or maybe I’m mistaken, perhaps you don’t,” Wen Ruohan concluded, a smirk curving his lips. “After all, from what I understand from Qiren, you couldn’t even live up to the lowest of his expectations for a son of Gusu Lan.”

Qingheng-jun scoffed. He was still pretending that he had the upper hand in their conversation, that he felt secure in his superiority over Wen Ruohan’s temporary weakness – but where his cleverness and ruthlessness might have worked time and again against Lan Qiren, with one very notable exception, it was nothing against Wen Ruohan.

Wen Ruohan knew him.

Not because he’d ever bothered to get to know Qingheng-jun personally. But rather because in Qingheng-jun, Wen Ruohan could see himself, and Wen Ruohan knew himself very well indeed.

“My brother does not set the standards of Gusu Lan,” Qingheng-jun said. “He is not sect leader. I am.”

Now it was Wen Ruohan’s turn to scoff.

“Do you really believe that?” he asked. “A name does not make a thing. Intent is meaningless in the face of action; the only thing that has ever mattered, in any context, is who actually does the work. It’s as true for sect leadership as it is for anything else – a sect leader is the one who leads the sect. A father is the one who molds the children. A husband…”

He laughed.

“Never mind. You wouldn’t know what I’m talking about.”

Qingheng-jun’s expression was ugly. “You mock me!”

“Have you only just now noticed?” Wen Ruohan said, now taunting openly. “And people say Qiren is bad at understanding others…of course I’m mocking you. Should I respect you? You? You, who are only here to die? You, who couldn’t even pull off a simple plan like kill them all properly…?”

Qingheng-jun drew his sword.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to guess at once what you were doing?” Wen Ruohan asked him. “Me? The only difference between the two of us is that you are pathetic.”

“You know nothing about me,” Qingheng-jun said, voice cold as always, and attacked.

Wen Ruohan immediately lifted his own sword to block that first shatteringly powerful blow, feeling the cold of Qingheng-jun’s frost echo through his blade as he did. He brought his other hand up, summoning the array he’d kept dancing at the tips of his fingers and casting it into Qingheng-jun’s face.

As he’d expected, Qingheng-jun was too clever to fall for that – he’d known some sort of attack like that was coming and he countered immediately, casting a handful of talismans out and activating them at once, letting them take the hit that had been aimed at him, and following that action up with another strike of his sword.

His swordsmanship really was beautiful.

Such a waste.

Wen Ruohan was forced onto the defensive, using his sword to block the blows that were coming fast and hard, Qingheng-jun’s surprisingly vivid blue crackling against his own black.

“Foolish,” Wen Ruohan said, despite that. He’d been in far too many battles, and under worse circumstances, to let a strong opening unnerve him. “I am the only one who knows you. The only one who can know you.”

He meant it, too.

Wen Ruohan had been where Qingheng-jun was now. He’d fallen to the lowest point a man could go – he had lost everything, he had lost everyone. He had been tormented by the losses that had been caused by his own hand as well as those of others. He had been overwhelmed by suffering, suffused by it, drowned in it, and as a result, quite logically, he had gone insane. For all that his own isolation had been social rather than literal, as Qingheng-jun’s had been, Wen Ruohan too had found himself alone for far too long, painfully and completely alone. Of the people who had filled his life and his heart as a young man, there was not a single one left…

Like Qingheng-jun, Wen Ruohan had been a selfish man to start with. Being alone, being in pain – it had twisted him, made him cruel, made him indifferent, made him lash out at those around him, those reminders that life somehow went on even when his own felt as though it had stopped. His apathy had grown by the year, eclipsing everything else, eating away at his memories of joy and of excitement, until all those things that had once made life worth living were long forgotten. Until the only thing that could bring him pleasure was sating his sadism, making others hurt to see how they struggled and yearned to live, warming himself with that echo of feeling.

Oh yes – Wen Ruohan knew all too well what Qingheng-jun was going through.

He knew also that many of Qingheng-jun’s grievances and resentments were justified, or at least justifiable, whether they were against his sect, against the world, against uncaring fate and luck itself. He knew, because he had felt that way, too. He, and he alone, could understand.

He could sympathize, he could empathize.

He just didn’t care.

Wen Ruohan had been in Qingheng-jun’s position, yes. But he’d made it out again on the other side, because he was better.

“Did you do it?” Qingheng-jun asked him, casting out his sword in a gorgeous move, surrounded by swirls of spiritual energy that were as lovely as they were deadly, dancing around him like eddies of wind – Wen Ruohan was forced to dodge, retreating to the side before lunging forward, trying for a counterattack that Qingheng-jun deflected.

Not easily, Wen Ruohan could see Qingheng-jun’s arm shaking with the force that Wen Ruohan could put behind his blows, but successfully nonetheless.

Wen Ruohan quickened his pace, trying a different style of attack, fast rather than powerful, but Qingheng-jun met him head-on, his sword moving just as fast as Wen Ruohan’s, his steps just as sure.

The cold wind at the top of the mountain, blowing around every obstacle.

Lovely.

Such a waste, such a waste…

“Did I try to kill everyone, you mean?” Wen Ruohan asked, twisting the fingers of his free hand into a series of hand seals, setting up another array even as his sword clashed with Qingheng-jun’s. “Of course not. If I had, you would know. Or not, as it might be – you would be just as dead as the rest.”

“Not that.” Qingheng-jun bared his teeth at him. “Did you murder your first family?”

He matched the words with a pointed strike, all of his power behind it.

Wen Ruohan reached out and caught the blow with his free hand, redirecting the spiritual energy he’d been using to set up the array into the power he needed to protect his flesh from Qingheng-jun’s steel.

The way nothing would protect him from Qingheng-jun’s words.

“Yes,” he said, wrapping his hand around the sword to hold it, and Qingheng-jun, in place. “Though I did not mean to.”

He brought the array that he’d been working on earlier up all at once, forcing it into existence, and Qingheng-jun let out an involuntary shout as it opened up beneath his feet.

Now it was his turn to have no choice but to dodge, redirecting his own spiritual energy as a defense, pulling his sword out of Wen Ruohan’s grasp and leaping backwards into the air.

Wen Ruohan went after him.

“My first wife betrayed me,” he said, settling into what had once been his preferred fighting style, attacking with both hands in turn, array in one and weapon in the other. “And I betrayed her in turn, one after the other until there was nothing left between us but loss. In time, the two of us destroyed everything that we had ever made together.”

Even their children.

Wen Ruohan hadn’t meant for that to happen. He didn’t think his wife had, either, though of course by that point she had lost too much of her reason to really understand the depths of what they had lost – he’d done that to her, however accidentally. That was the cost of betrayal, the greatest cost. Losing his family had always been the one consequence that he had never been able to forgive himself for causing. The cost of his betrayal.

Just as his betrayal had also cost him Wen Ruoyu, the brother he had loved so much.

Wen Ruoyu had been the only sibling Wen Ruohan had ever really cared about – and he’d had many, brothers and sisters both. Wen Ruoyu was the one younger brother who had genuinely seemed to like Wen Ruohan, who had followed him voluntarily, the one who Wen Ruohan had permitted to follow him, however unwise it had seemed to be at the time. Wen Ruoyu had tagged along in his every step, had adored him and supported him and who Wen Ruohan had adored and supported in turn. As they had grown older, grown stronger, they had challenged each other to surpass their limits, and they had done so marvelously, exceptionally, unexpectedly. The two of them together had been unstoppable: able to overturn every obstacle in their path, blazing through the skies like twin suns, burning away the haze of the world.

If only Wen Ruohan had believed in him as fully as Wen Ruoyu had believed in him – if only he hadn’t let himself be blinded by his ambition, led into folly through his own weakness – if only he hadn’t lost track of what really mattered – if only, if only, if only!

“And then I went mad, of course,” he added matter-of-factly. “There is a point after which it is by far the most straightforward option.”

It was only very recently that he had been able to crawl out of the pit he’d fallen into.

Lao Nie had been the first to help him find his way. Fight evil no matter where, in his own inimitable style, though perhaps Lao Nie had not thought of it that way, driven as he was by his own self-destructive attraction to everything that could bring him harm, wrestling with the knowledge of his sect’s poisonous self-sacrifice and his own impending premature death. Whatever his motivations, he had forced himself into Wen Ruohan’s increasingly empty life, with his intriguing mixture of ruthlessness and joy, supreme selfishness and selflessness in one, his irrepressible humor and charm. He had coaxed Wen Ruohan first into curiosity, and from curiosity into enjoyment. He had shown him the way forward. No, more than that – he had pushed him down the first step on the road of having to actually live rather than merely survive, and for that, Wen Ruohan owed him.

Before Lao Nie, Wen Ruohan had very nearly let go of everything. His apathy had grown to such an extent that not even anger or pain could move him – as best exemplified by his new marriages, bloodless and political, nothing more than a means of getting him closer to his goal of ruling the world, of putting his sect above the rest. After his family had died, he had refused to remarry for so many years, for decades. He had even declared the subject of them taboo, and brutally executed anyone who so much as mentioned them, however obliquely.

And then he’d just…forgotten.

Those cousins of his who had hoped to take advantage of his unmarried state had all grown old and died, waiting for their turn; their children, his new advisors, had not known anything but his never-ending rule, as endless as the blazing light that filled his Nightless City at every hour. They had suggested that he marry in order to consolidate his power, and not seeing any reason not to, he had done so – not once, but twice. He had promised his wives sons and positions of power, and he had delivered on his promises. And then he had looked away from those sons, unable to look to closely at them lest he see the shadows of the ones who had preceded them. He had justified it by telling himself that he would make it up when they were older, when they were interesting, when they were grown men and fully formed people and like him. He had treated them as either prospective enemies, to be held distant for lack of trust, or else as extensions of himself, limiting himself to loving them as he loved himself, a safe and complete love. He hadn’t been able to do anything more.

He had been, though living, more dead than alive.

Lao Nie had been the first step on the road back to himself, but he hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been willing to step onto the road with Wen Ruohan, to walk alongside him for that whole journey, the two of them together side-by-side, equal in their commitment to each other. He hadn’t been willing to go so far as to pledge loyalty and fidelity and trust. It hadn’t been his fault: Wen Ruohan, as he had been when Lao Nie had first encountered him, had not been worthy of trust, benumbed and accustomed as he was to treachery; he had expected it in everyone and far too often found himself justified, and he responded by being even more treacherous in turn. It would have been a very bad idea for Lao Nie to have trusted in him back then.

And yet…it had changed, in time. He had changed. He had started to find his way back, to rebuild the human that he had once been out of the god he’d nearly become, had changed into something different, into someone who wanted more. Someone who wanted those things, love and trust and the harsh pains of those emotions just as much as their easy joys.

But he hadn’t told Lao Nie about it. He hadn’t ever asked the other man for what he wanted.

He hadn’t wanted to be told no.

Just as Lan Qiren wasn’t a man made for lust, Lao Nie wasn’t a man made for love. He loved, yes, but only as a friend loved, not as a lover did. Not for him were the exquisite agonies and ecstasies of that type of love, a complete and consuming love, viciously possessive and exclusive of others, as much mutual obsession as anything else.

And yet Wen Ruohan hungered for exactly that type of love. For love, and faith, and trust – and then he’d found it, however unexpectedly, in Lan Qiren. Who was, no matter what his brother tried to claim, the purest example of a Lan of Gusu Lan, a man who always strove to live up to that which his sect aspired to.

Rules and righteousness, and a madman’s loving heart beating steadily behind it all: that was Lan Qiren from beginning to end.

And Qingheng-jun had asked Wen Ruohan to explain.

As if such things could be explained.

Wen Ruohan sneered and lifted his sword, bringing it down in a strike of his own, his spiritual energy blisteringly hot, the power of it seething and boiling with fury.

Qingheng-jun threw himself to the side to avoid it.

“Well done, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, after, glancing back at the devastation that had been left in the wake of Wen Ruohan’s blow, the furrows in the earth and the blackened corpses of flowers and bushes that had caught fire. He had a swordsman’s appreciation for the art, if nothing else, and beneath all that madness, he really was a consummate gentleman: he would not withhold his praise when it was justly earned. “It seems you retained more of your power than I had heard.”

“Retained? Regained.” Wen Ruohan laughed. “Thank your brother for that!”

Qingheng-jun’s brow furrowed.

“He hates you, you know,” Wen Ruohan told him, relishing the words. The Lan Qiren that existed purely in Gusu Lan had barely been able to admit that fact to himself, however true it had been; his Lan Qiren, in contrast, had accepted it and moved past it. He was far better a man than either Wen Ruohan or Qingheng-jun could ever be. “You pushed him too far this time. There is no coming back from this, no peace to be had, no compromise possible. The two of you can no longer exist under the same sky…I’m here for him, not for you. I am the instrument of his will.”

“Will is will, power is power. As you yourself said, intent is not action.”

“No, but intent gives rise to action.” Wen Ruohan smirked. “Come now, you’re far from young and naive. Gusu Lan may be full of prudes, but even Qiren had heard of dual cultivation before.”

“You…” Qingheng-jun’s eyes almost bulged. “With him?!”

Such a reaction was strange, and perhaps a little sad, Wen Ruohan reflected. He himself had wanted to dual cultivate with Lan Qiren and yet had nearly discounted the possibility, so certain was he that Lan Qiren would refuse to do such a thing with him. And yet here was Lan Qiren’s own brother, his own flesh and blood, the Wen Ruohan to Lan Qiren’s Wen Ruoyu, and he thought that Wen Ruohan ought to have been the one reluctant to dual cultivate with Lan Qiren.

“I did,” he confirmed, and nearly laughed again at the puckered expression of distaste and disapproval on Qingheng-jun’s face. Now there was one who wouldn’t have done such a thing even if his wife had liked him enough to agree. He clearly couldn’t even conceive of rendering himself so vulnerable to another person, to give himself to another without reserve. “It was glorious, just as he is.”

Qingheng-jun’s expression of distaste did not change.

Unfortunately, the perfection of his sword forms did not falter, either, and he really was a better swordsman than Wen Ruohan. Wen Ruohan was keeping up, the arrays he could summon his best weapon as always, supported by his experience in fights such as these, but he wasn’t winning. There was a reason he kept up the conversation, goading and hunting for weaknesses, looking for a way to throw Qingheng-jun off his equilibrium, and they both knew it.

Well, if such a way existed, Wen Ruohan hadn’t found it yet.

He knew that Qingheng-jun hated Lan Qiren, hated the Lan sect, but it wasn’t enough. Lan Qiren, simply by virtue of being himself, could cause far more damage to his brother’s psyche than Wen Ruohan could with all his taunts and jabs. He’d explained the full circumstances of their conversation to Wen Ruohan before he’d left, hoping to arm him with everything he could, and it had been all that Wen Ruohan could do to keep from laughing out loud when he’d realized that it had been Lan Qiren’s misplaced empathy that Qingheng-jun hadn’t been able to tolerate. Pity from a hated enemy, condescending comments from someone you thought had won over you, someone you thought was rubbing their victory in your face…

Amazing.

Completely accidental, of course, but amazing.

Was there any way he could use that?

“Tell me,” he drawled. “Do you really think of Lan Qiren as some sort of – ”

What had been the term Cangse Sanren had used?

“– some sort of seductive vixen?”

Qingheng-jun’s next blow went wide. Wen Ruohan took advantage at once, pulling back to catch his breath and take stock of his reserves – arrays required more energy than swordsmanship, and doing both was taxing. He’d recovered quite a lot from where he had been, but he was far from his peak; he needed to conserve his strength where he could.

“I really have to wonder about that. I mean, have you met him?” Wen Ruohan shook his head pityingly. “He is rather dreadfully boring, isn’t he?”

That was part of the wonder of him. Lan Qiren was boring, a rule-abiding stickler, a stern moralist, a monotonous old teacher despite his relative youth, but that wasn’t all he was. He was passionate and complicated, a mix of contradictions, a war within himself, all things within himself.

Even the boring parts of him were interesting.

“Quite good in bed, though. I assume it’s a natural gift, that ability to steeply climb learning curves and gain mastery over a subject…especially since it was quite evident that he came to my bed a virgin.”

Another strike that didn’t quite reach where Qingheng-jun wanted it to.

Because, of course, Lan Qiren coming to Wen Ruohan untouched meant that he really hadn’t done what Qingheng-jun had thought he had, his younger brother betraying him in bed with his wife, replacing him after he’d made such sacrifices – such unasked-for sacrifices, though it was clear Qingheng-jun had never thought of them that way. Everyone always saw themselves as the hero in their own story.

Only it was getting harder and harder for Qingheng-jun to pretend, even to himself, that he was anything but the villain here.

Wen Ruohan was getting close, he could feel it. Qingheng-jun’s swordsmanship was good, exceptionally good, and if he were anyone else, anyone other than the man who had hurt Lan Qiren, then Wen Ruohan might have entertained thoughts of trying to recruit him. He’d always valued talent, had always appreciated art no matter what form it was in, regardless of being its target. He was even willing to forgive terrible crimes for it, heedless of the cost – but only when the cost was to himself, or to his sect, or to the world.

Not to Lan Qiren.

No, there would be no way out of this for Qingheng-jun. Wen Ruohan was not going to hold back his blows, wasn’t going to try to recruit him, wasn’t going to show him any way out.

He was going to kill him.

Just as soon as he could figure out how.

He just needed a little bit more –

“He wrote me a song, you know,” Wen Ruohan said suddenly, motivated by some unknown instinct. His memory of little Lan Wangji’s face, maybe, all screwed up in distaste as he reluctantly made the suggestion, or else Lan Xichen looking so childishly appalled at the idea of such a thing, ameliorated only reluctantly when Lan Wangji had reminded him that they were already married – Gusu Lan were such musicians, really. Though he wasn’t sure whether such a thing would make an impact on a swordsman like Qingheng-jun…

“He what?!”

Apparently it would.

“How dare he – he wrote you a song – ”

Qingheng-jun’s blows were getting wilder and wilder. More powerful, but that had always been the risk of the game Wen Ruohan was playing. Qingheng-jun had been keeping him mostly on the defensive, or else letting him have openings that he then closed immediately – Wen Ruohan’s current approach was simply not working. He knew it, he accepted it, and he wasn’t so prideful that he would resist change just for the sake of doing so.

He needed to get Qingheng-jun off-balance just long enough to figure out something new.

“Of course he did,” he said, keeping his tone light and casual, echoing Lao Nie at his most unbelievably irritating. “Isn’t that what musical cultivators like him do? Write songs? I wouldn’t think it was that unusual – ”

“Why does he get to have a song?!” Qingheng-jun shouted, and –

Ah.

So that’s what it was.

“He’s never been my equal, never,” Qingheng-jun spat out, and Wen Ruohan could see the madness in his rage-reddened eyes now. “He was just an afterthought, a left-behind, a remnant – he shouldn’t have even existed! I had two younger brothers before him, only a few years younger than me, both of them talented and good, and they were all the sect elders needed, spares just in case something happened to me. If only they hadn’t died! If they had lived, my parents would never have felt obligated to try again for another, and Qiren would never have been born. My mother wouldn’t have needed to take medicine to have him, wouldn’t have weakened her health for him, wouldn’t have ripped herself apart at the birthing bed and gotten sick and died because of him – ”

“Blame your sect for that,” Wen Ruohan said. “Oh, wait. You already do.”

Qingheng-jun wasn’t even listening. “When she died, she took my father with her. It was only a living corpse that remained sect leader after that. All the burden came to me. All the responsibility, all the expectations, everything, and all the while Qiren could go on untroubled, dull and slow and fumbling and boring and nothing. Nothing worthy of that sacrifice, of either of their sacrifices. And yet…”

“And yet he gets to have the song,” Wen Ruohan said knowingly. “He gets to have that once-in-a-lifetime love, the type of love that haunts you and possesses you and drives you to extremes of destruction and creation both. The love you never had.”

Qingheng-jun’s next blow left nothing but wreckage in its wake, but Wen Ruohan was already long gone.

“It’s only to be expected from him, really,” he said, and let his voice drip with pity thick as syrup, as much of it as he could conjure. It wasn’t for nothing that Lan Qiren had dubbed him the second most obnoxious man in the world. “After all, Lan Qiren is everything that he should be – a true Lan of Gusu Lan.”

And that was it, that was the difference.

Not the difference between Qingheng-jun and Lan Qiren. Wen Ruohan wasn’t the sort of person who thought that everyone ought to follow their sect mottos blindly, thinking that there was only one way to live up to what they were meant to be; such an idea was restrictive and ridiculous. He himself was far from the true ideal of Qishan Wen, with his quixotic focus on arrays instead of swordsmanship or medicine, though he was still his sect’s true-born son, just as ambitious as anyone in his family, as arrogant. It had been Wen Ruoyu who had been the real outlier: possessive but willing to share, a collector of trinkets and people rather than strength or influence, sociable and generous rather than standoffish and arrogant, a spearman rather than a swordsman, lacking even the slightest traces of medical talent, disdainful of the trappings of duty or the temptations of power, lacking ambition for himself but avidly loyal to those he loved.

By any family standard, Wen Ruoyu had been completely unfit for the proud surname Wen.

Yet Wen Ruohan would have killed anyone who said that, anyone who might have suggested that his differences meant Wen Ruoyu wasn’t among the best their sect had ever produced. Not only would he kill over such an insult, he had, and often enough, too.

No, it wasn’t the difference between Lan Qiren and Qingheng-jun: it was the difference between Qingheng-jun and Wen Ruohan.

They’d both gone mad, after all. They’d both turned cruel and vicious, lashing out at the world that had robbed them of their rightful due, that had turned against them after all they had done for it. They’d both been driven by somewhat justified grievances until they’d gone too far and committed crimes with their own hands, both of them having fallen into the pit of despair, of apathy and malice and madness.

But where Qingheng-jun had thrown away everything that mattered, rejected family, friends, sect, wife, and even principle, Wen Ruohan was different.

Wen Ruohan, even when he had had nothing else, had always had his sect.

Even when he’d lost everything else, even when he’d forgotten the reason for his own existence, even when he longed to destroy everything around him just to make it all go away, he hadn’t actually taken that final step. He’d been Sect Leader Wen by then, and he’d always taken that seriously. His actions reflected on his sect, his actions defined his sect: all boats were lifted by the same tide, and sunk by the same hurricane.

If he led them to victory, they would benefit. If he led them to ruin, they would suffer.

His sect was his responsibility.

His sect was his.

All good things in the world ought to be his, the world ought to be his – and that meant he owed it a duty of care in return.

Wen Ruohan loved himself. He was vain, narcissistic, self-absorbed. He saw his sect as an extension of himself, and just as he knew himself to be the best, the finest cultivator in the cultivation world, nearly a god, so too did he know that his sect was the best. The facts did not matter, the truth did not matter, nothing mattered, nothing but his certainty of that fact.

He knew his sect was the best – and if they weren’t, it was his duty to make it true.

No matter the method, as Wen Ruoyu had always said with a grin. As long as you win, no matter the method…

No matter the method.

That was it.

What was he doing?

Wen Ruohan spared a moment to shake his head at his own foolishness. Going up against Qingheng-jun sword against sword – he’d known he wouldn’t be able to win that way, but he’d been reckless as always, arrogant as always, counting on his arrays to carry him to victory as they always had. But he wasn’t as strong as he’d been, wasn’t able to fight with just arrays rather than with array and sword both, and he wasn’t as practiced at fighting from a position of weakness as he had once been, either. He had grown lazy in his apathy, sitting back and letting his power do the fighting for him, letting his army or his influence or his control of so many sects move the pieces for him.

He'd need to fix that, going forward. He should spar more often, with Lao Nie and Lan Qiren and others; he should bind his own power, cut off his own excessively strong cultivation, and practice fighting that way, to make sure he gave himself a real challenge.

There was no way for him to win like this.

So…why fight like this?

Just because it was expected? Because it was convention?

Does the sun care for the expectations of the earth? Wen Ruohan had asked Yu Ziyuan, laughing at her. I have never restricted myself for the sake of others. Why would I start now?

They’d been talking about marriage, but what was true for the marital was just as true for the martial.

Wen Ruohan laughed out loud.

Qingheng-jun startled at the sound of it, pulling back warily – thinking that Wen Ruohan was up to something, no doubt, and he’d be right to think so, too.

Wen Ruohan contemptuously threw aside his sword, letting it clatter to the ground. And in its place, he summoned another weapon entirely.

“A spear?” Qingheng-jun asked, clearly surprised. “Since when do the Wen fight with a spear?”

Wen Ruohan spun the spear around in his hand, and found it as warm and welcoming to him as it had ever been, without the slightest hint of rancor or anger despite how long it had been since he’d wielded it. The spear was called Zhencang, and it had been Wen Ruoyu’s spiritual weapon, the one he had made his name with all those years ago. It had been because of this spear that he had begged and bullied and bribed Wen Ruohan into learning how to use a spear at all, pestering him every morning and every evening until he begrudgingly agreed to practice with him.

More than practice – to adjust his own style, his footwork and his reach and his thinking, to match it.

There were many similarities, he’d found, between arrays and spears. Both were weapons of longer distance, excelling in middle-range attacks with greater reach and greater leverage rather than close melee that was the domain of the sword, and both could be used to devastating effect against those who were less familiar with them.

Wen Ruohan hadn’t used Zhencang since the day his brother had died, but neither had he left it behind. It had been habit more than anything else to bring it with him, the remnants of a long-ago vow that he had once made to himself. His brother had been alive and free, never confined, and so too would his spiritual weapon be – not for his brother’s spear was the lonesome fate of the cold treasury room, not ever, not even if Wen Ruohan never wielded it again in his life.

He’d forgotten.

He remembered now.

“Since always,” Wen Ruohan said with a savage grin. “Learn your history, will you?”

He lunged forward.

As he’d expected, Qingheng-jun did not have much experience in fighting against a spear. A spear was a soldier’s weapon, not a gentleman’s. The Lan sect prided itself on elegance, and its disciples followed their sect, alternating between the beautiful sword forms of which both Lan Qiren and Qingheng-jun were masters and the underestimated but no less potent power of their music. The spear, in contrast, was a utilitarian weapon, meant to fight horses or enemy soldiers, meant to stretch out one’s power onto others. And although it, too, could be elegant, in Wen Ruohan’s hands, it was all aggression.

Array in one hand, weapon in the other – yes, this was his preferred fighting style.

He attacked.

Now it was Qingheng-jun who found himself on the defensive. Now it was he who had to dodge, he who had to speed up, who had to block time and time again, receiving the blows instead of striking them.

Now it was Qingheng-jun who was going to lose.

They both knew it.

It was a shared understanding between them, shared in their eyes as they gazed at each other, in the growing smirk on Wen Ruohan’s face and the growing scowl on Qingheng-jun, in the increased desperation of his movements, in the way he spent his spiritual energy recklessly, frantically, but to no avail. He couldn’t find any openings, Wen Ruohan beating him down with spear and arrays both, using his sword only to fly and barely even for that. He couldn’t find a way out.

Wen Ruohan wasn’t going to leave him a way out.

Qingheng-jun’s fate was sealed, and they both knew it. He was going to die. He was going die, and his crimes were going to be covered up for the sake of the Lan sect and his sons, for the sake of letting Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji grow up as the sons of that brilliant but tragic swordsman that Wen Ruohan would have loved to have recruited and not of the murderous madman he’d turned into instead. He was going to die and be erased, be replaced by Lan Qiren first and by Lan Xichen and by Lan Wangji later, and there was nothing he could do about it.

It was just a matter of time, now.

He was going to die –

“No,” Qingheng-jun spat. “No! I refuse – I surrender.”

Wen Ruohan’s hand froze.

“You what?”

He must not have heard correctly.

“I surrender,” Qingheng-jun said, and threw down his sword. It clattered onto the ground, its beautiful tassel becoming stained by the mud of the earth they had churned up with their violence. “You heard me. I surrender myself to you. I request punishment for my crime – adjudicated punishment, and the chance to atone.”

“Why in the world would I grant that to you?” Wen Ruohan wondered. “Have you mistaken who I am? My Wen sect doesn’t have such beliefs.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Qingheng-jun agreed, and then he smiled, a cold nasty sort of smile. “But Qiren does.”

Qiren does.

He was right.

Qingheng-jun was right, damn him. Lan Qiren had said it himself, when they’d been talking about Wang Liu: What do you mean, what do I want to do with him? Naturally he must be given a fair trial and a fair sentence, a fair punishment. It’s different, once he’s been taken into custody: before, he was an enemy, and now he is a prisoner.

And I, at least, do not mistreat prisoners.

If Wen Ruohan killed Qingheng-jun now, after he had voluntarily surrendered, he would be executing a prisoner, not defeating an enemy.

He could still do it. He was a Wen, not a Lan. He wasn’t bound by Lan Qiren’s multitude of rules, he wasn’t bound by Lan Qiren’s conscience…but Lan Qiren was, and Lan Qiren would disapprove.

More than disapprove. He would feel guilty.

Complicit.

Wen Ruohan had himself said that he was here to act as the instrument of Lan Qiren’s will, and he had meant it. But if that was his purpose here, he had to decide whether he was going to follow that will to the end, whether to obey it over the dictates of his own inclinations. He had to decide if he was going to handle this the way Lan Qiren would have wanted him to, or ignore it and forge his own path the way he always had.

Whether he would do things in Lan Qiren’s name that Lan Qiren would never have wanted.

Wen Ruohan could kill him and then lie, of course. There was no one here but the two of them, no one here to see Qingheng-jun’s surrender – Wen Ruohan was a cultivator just like any other. He could kill the man and banish his spirit before anyone would think to question him, covering it up just as thoroughly as the mine had been covered up, as thoroughly as Qingheng-jun’s attempted massacre had been covered up. He could tell Lan Qiren that he’d killed his brother in fair battle, could bear the secret himself, relieve Lan Qiren of the guilt of knowing it wasn’t true.

He could lie.

But – if he lied about something like this…wasn’t he undermining the trust Lan Qiren put in him?

This is my promise to you, he’d said to him, and he had meant it. This is my oath that I will trust in you in the future, and be someone whom you can trust in, in turn, someone worthy of your trust. My promise is this: that everything I do in the future, I will do with thoughts of you.

Do not tell lies.

He’d said it, and he’d meant it.

That meant he couldn’t lie.

And if he couldn’t lie – then he couldn’t kill Qingheng-jun.

So, despite everything, despite Qingheng-jun’s victorious smirk that he itched to beat off his face –

Wen Ruohan held back his hand.

“Well,” he said, meaning shit and fuck you and fuck me and a thousand other curses that all wanted to come pouring out of his mouth all at once, none of them finding purchase over the others. “Well, then.”

Qingheng-jun laughed.

It was a desolate sound.

#mdzs #wen ruohan #lan qiren #qingheng-jun #my fic #my fics #Megafic

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xluna-reclipse · 1 year

Text

The devotion of a Lan and why Lan Xichen will never marry

(unless that person is Jin Guangyao)

From the likes of Lan An down to Lan Wangji, the Lan, at times tragic, were deeply romantic and always faithful. It’s hard to consider love at first sight to be a genetic trait, but the evidence doesn’t lie. Not a single Lan married a person they did not love. Not a single Lan moved on after the loss of their soulmate.

Lan Forehead Ribbon

The mark of a Lan is their forehead ribbon. At first glance, it is a symbol of self-control. In actuality, it is a blatant declaration of wild passion. The ribbon which represents the obligation to regulate oneself, can only be removed by a destined one? Isn’t this just another way of saying, the three thousands rules are to contain us, for in the name of our soulmate AND ONLY for our soulmate, we observe no laws, no bonds, no morals? The Lan follow the dao, but not even the intentions and punishments of heaven can hold them back from their Destined One.

The Lan are kind and just to everyone. The woman who crosses the street. The child who begs for alms. The man who nearly drowns. They are all the same, no more, no less deserving of help. The world is a calm and reassuring beige, every tragedy of equal hue and intensity, every joy a drop of water in a deep well.

Only the Instance of Lan is that great disturbance in their life. A warmth worth suffering for.

It’s fascinating to look at all the joy and pain that love brought the Lan.

And the singular way they dealt with loss.

Lan concept of love

The common process of the Lan romance is a strong initial first spark. Love at first sight (or first fight for Lan Wangji).

After that comes devotion. Devotion during life is to seek to be with the other. Lan An and Qingheng-jun married their Destined Ones. Lan Xichen would disappear for months at a time to see Jin Guangyao. Lan Wangji tried his best, appearing at the burial mounds in Wei Wuxian’s first life, but was chased away time and again. In his second life, he drags Wei Wuxian back to the Cloud Recesses and follows him on his adventures. The first part of devotion is to keep your north pointed towards your soulmate.

The second part, is to not hurt others, or involve third parties. The ability to refuse to marry, unless that person is the one you love, is quite admirable. There will never be a Jiang Fengmian in the Lan family, someone who marries a woman he doesn’t love and causes both family and wife to be subject to rumors and mockery, children to self-doubt and insecurity. No Lan marries for convenience. They marry out of love or not at all. It must be reassuring to such a deeply romantic family, to not have to be forced by their elders into loveless matches. (Otherwise, before asking Lan Xichen to marry, Lan Qiren would be served to platter.) Lan Xichen already anticipates this and treats Lan Jingyi as heir.

Then at the end, after your Fated One passes away, the Lan leave too.

The founder of the Sect set a poignant example for all of his descendent after. Lan An left the monastery for the love of his life and returned to the mountain, leaving not even dust behind after they left.

Lan Yi, in the Untamed has a hinted romance with Baoshan Sanren. While she did not witness her lover die, she never married another person. She also spent the rest of her days in seclusion.

Qingheng-jun fell in love at first sight and stood against sect and world to marry and protect her. He paid for her ‘sins’ as if they were his. And after she died, he did not leave seclusion until his death during the war.

The current Sect Leader, Lan Xichen also went into retreat after the love of his life died. And he will never leave unless Jin Guangyao returns, or in pursuit of Jin Guangyao’s return.

Not even Lan Wangji was an exception. Sometimes people will say that he moved on with his life after Wei Wuxian’s life, citing his night hunts as an example. But actually, Lan Wangji ‘appeared wherever there was chaos.’ Why? Because he was looking for Wei Wuxian. Because he wanted to be there if Wei Wuxian found himself in trouble (which Lan Wangji was right, Wei Wuxian nearly gets dragged back to Lotus Pier immediately). Lan Wangji never ‘moved on.’ He was waiting. He was searching. Why was it so easy for him to accept Wei Wuxian had returned from the dead? Because he was hoping it would happen. Wei Wuxian had already ‘died’ in the eyes of the world once before, when he was kicked into the Yiling Burial Mounds by the Wen. But! Wei Wuxian returned stronger than ever, albeit with literal ghosts, but he was back all the same.

He was different than his father and ancestors. He was lucky to love the Yiling Laozu. Wei Wuxian was exceptional. He proved the dead could return--sentient! Why did Lan Wangji have to live as dead when his heart had not died?

Lan Xichen will never remarry. Because he’s already married. The moment he looked into the eyes of his savior amidst the flames of war, his ribbon found an owner. Why would he marry when his clan will not ask it of him? Why did he raise Lan Jingyi like his heir, a child whose entitlement and sass can only be rivaled by Jin Ling? A child who is capable of being rude to Sect Leaders with out repercussion? A child who oozes the confidence of someone loved, respected, and of high rank, when he is a supposed orphan? Because he is the heir Lan Xichen prepared when he realized he had already found the love of his life.

And the love of his life had married a woman. But that is irrelevant in the face of the Love of a Lan. It does not matter if the other party does not love me (Qingheng-jun, I’m squinting at you; Lan Wangji who asks what is to be done when the person he wants to protect refuses to return with him), what matters is that I love them. And that they do not want my ribbon, does not make it any less theirs (when Lan Xichen cancels the permission of the jade order, but tells Jin Guangyao that it still belongs to him).

Why did he, after the death of Jin Guangyao, retreat as Lan An did for his Fated One, as Qingheng-jun did for his wife, as a Lan does for his soulmate?

And why, do we find it tragic?

Lan Xichen before Jin Guangyao was untouched by worldly emotions. Because of Jin Guangyao, he descended from the dais and was made human.

Lan An cultivated in the monastery, because of his Destined One, he went down the mountain. When that person left, he left too.

All he did was return from whence he came.

While I believe Lan Xichen will open the coffin because even if he does not want to, the Lan owe Jin Guangyao, a life in seclusion is not to be pitied.

A gift for Meng Haoran

I love a Master Meng, exalted across the world. The beauty abandoned his post, to rest white-haired in seclusion. Often drinking under the moon, preferring flowers to the king. To the mountain I long to reach, this disciple can only bow here.

Li Bai Translated by Luna_reclipse

赠孟浩然 (Zèng mènghàorán)

吾爱孟夫子，风流天下闻 wú ài mèng fūzǐ, fēngliú tiānxià wén 红颜弃轩冕，白首卧松云 hóngyán qì xuān miǎn, bái shǒu wò sōng yún 醉月频中圣，迷花不事君 zuì yuè pín zhōng shèng, mí huā bu shì jūn 高山安可仰, 徒此挹清芬 gāoshān ān kě yǎng, tú cǐ yì qīng fēn

李白 (lǐ bái)

Lan Xichen’s soulmate is Jin Guangyao and he will never trade him out.

Liu Haikuan, the actor who portrayed Lan Xichen in the Untamed, said in an interview, that Lan Xichen will never leave seclusion without Jin Guangyao.

Zhu Zanjin, the actor who portrayed Jin Guangyao in the Untamed, said that the relationship between Lan Xichen and JIn Guangyao is the same as that between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji.

The Lan through their now 4000 precepts, have bound themselves with rule after rule with only one release. And because of this Destined One, descend to become mortal, and without them, return to the mountain.

Lan Xichen has proven through layers and layers of Lan patterns that his soulmate is Jin Guangyao and this soulmate was worth it.

I leave you with Liu Haikuan’s words, “Both of their lives were tragic, but the relationship they had was not a tragedy. A-Yao, through the end, was very good to Lan Xichen.” (他们两个的人生各自都是悲剧，但这段友情不是悲剧，阿瑶直到最后还是对曦臣很好.)

#xiyao #wangxian #lan xichen #Qingheng-jun #lan wangji #jin guangyao #meng yao #LunaMeta #meta

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sweetlittlevampire · 1 year

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SPRING BLOSSOMS

Final and fourth part in the "Seasons of Love" series, alongside Summer Rain, Autumn Wind, and Winter Lights

Rating: T | 14658 words | Wangxian

“Lan Zhan, what’s wrong?” he asks. “Bad news? Is everything alright with Shushu?”

Lan Wangji tries to say something, but his voice fails him. When he finally manages to speak, he sounds hoarse.

“This letter arrived this morning,” he says. “It spelled my birth name on it, the one my mother gave me. I didn’t recognise the handwriting on it, so I set it aside to read it later."

Wei Wuxian is silent, giving Lan Wangji the time he needs to find his words.

“Wei Ying, this letter…it’s from my father.”

Or:

The story of how sometimes, even decades after something has happened, your past sneaks up on you when you're least expecting it.

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qourmet · 1 year

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for All intents and purposes, 90% of anything that i say do or create for the birthers of the canon mdzs generation are either speculative or headcanons. idk if i'm going to Stop with the lan & jiang sects or if i'm going to go all out & include the nie, jin & wen sects & all their affiliates, & really the only characters i Truly Want to draw are the last Nie clan leader & his 2 wives & lan furen. Clan Leader Nie is slowly giving me uzui tengen vibes, if for no other reason than I Like to Think that Nie Huaisang's Mother is a crybaby like Suma & Mingjue's mother like hinatsuru

all that being said, i'm gonna log some headcanons

Wei Changze is an unfortunate only child, though there's a high chance that he's milk-brothers with Fengmian. wcz's only living relative is his mother, a small woman with no spiritual power to speak of who is nervous in the presence of men. the wei family in general is Small, & any extended family that still lives are so estranged from wei changze and his mother that they may as well not exist at all. while the jiang family was well-off and in no need of any new servants, a young man came by some few decades ago and bartered his sister off to the family in exchange for money and some supplies for travel. the then-clan leader took pity on the woman being sold off by her own flesh and blood and let her work for them, but within a month it became obvious that the reason her brother didn't want her was because they were going to happen on another mouth to feed and no man to claim a bastard. despite her reservation towards men, wei changze grows into the type of person who's unreasonably gentle with his own mother and he's one of the extremely few men that can exist in the same room as her alone without her breaking into an awful fit of trembling. his mother ends up being one of the midwives that helps bring jiang fengmian into the world.

knowing that she was raised on a Celestial mountain under an immortal, & knowing that xiao xingchen's name has multiple instances of the Sun radical in it, i have hcs that cssr's Name has moon radicals in it. i've tried thinking for sun & stars but i dont like it so the yue radical is in there, most likely under Radiant. she's a feral child, less in the sense of being a creature that acts impulsively and lashes out, and more in the sense that she just refuses to be tamed, by her master, by the sects, by the world at large. she's living life & enjoying it, "ain't nothin gonna break my stride, nobody gonna slow me down" kinda girl. she's level headed, very much likes to think things through, but she knows definitively what she does not want.

fengmian has an instant crush on jiejie, though to be wholly fair cssr descended on them like a celestial being herself to wreak havoc on lqr Immediately. wcz is enamored, but knowing he has no hope and lives with expectations of finding a nice subservient wife to fulfill his nice subservient life, he makes no move towards her & instead enjoys the light that jfm's eyes give.

cssr doesn't see the jiang disciples again for another year at Least, after the cloud-recesses incident that ends with her yanking Qiren's goatee out. she spends time in each sect as she wanders around, making friends in each one and by the time she's around yunmeng, her closest companion currently being the nie heir. like a boy in love, fengmian is intent on spending as much time as he can with her, learning her quirks and likes and dislikes, and she can see clearly that he's looking at her with rose-tinted glasses but makes no move or indication that she's intent on returning the feelings, mostly because she's not interested in him but also the idea of being a sect-leader's Wife, a position that would put her in the very proximity of the politics her master held such disdain for, was wholly unappealing

nie zhongzu was a trailblazer. he was very much a man who did not care of other people's opinions and very blatantly lived in a righteous way. if he wanted to do something that didn't affect the people around him in any direct way, he'd do it (like promoting a concubine to the status of Wife when doing so was highly frowned upon). he'd be a himbo if it weren't for the fact that he was a master of the 5 arts, extremely well read and the heir to a clan knee deep in sect politics raised with the expectation of taking this mantel. that aside i like to think he had sisters that carried that big beefy nie blood.

nie furen was a tall woman, her husband was just taller. the man was built like mingjue, a bull. she gives off willow-tree vibes, is probably a strong cultivator, collected in nature and relatively subservient. she doesn't want for much and has accepted her roll in being the political tie to the nies and behaves accordingly. really the only person that can make nie furen flustered is her husband's concubine, and not even in the competitive way. nie furen is gay & she enjoys huaisang's mother Very much as both company and eye candy.

concubine xiao laopo is nie zhongzu's childhood friend. well really she's one of the nie servants that got promoted to concubine after nie zhongzhu announced that he was going to marry her when they were children and the elders rushed to put a stop to his insanity. she's not a cultivator, and because she's not, she doesn't have much of an eye for either the education they receive nor a true understanding of the work they perform outside of "important" & "helpful to all" & "spiritual." that being said, her heart is still moved by whatever arts are presented to her. she's bubbly and quick to make friends with nie furen when the furen is married into the clan, and takes solace in the idea that their husband is a pretty open-minded man to bypass any shame she would otherwise feel behaving towards the recognized wife of the nie clan. xlp has an equal interest in men and women and was Probably present when nmj was conceived. i wanna name her Bu but i feel like thats too on the nose for the Me who recently got into cdramas

wen-sibling parents have the classic shounen + love interest dynamic, borderline main character & his tsun girl who berates him for his recklessness, except roll reversed. their mom is a physically strong woman, tall, wonderful cultivator, probably only shorter than nie-zhongzhu ((honestly she herself might be a nie descendant)). she's a bit on the stoic side and pretty headstrong, meanwhile their dad is a relatively small man who constantly gets into spats with his wife because she'll often have another wound that needs tending to whenever she comes back from hunts. he's Technically a cultivator, but no notably strong golden core and rather spends his time studying the flow of qi & how to best clear blockages in meridians. honestly before they're even married it's highly speculated that she gets hurt just to be doted on. she'll bite back but let him win arguments, and on distant night hunts she'll bring him back bushels of herbs that can't be found in qishan. more often than not she won't present them with any fanfare, but rather just leave them in a place he can find. they're awkward around each other before marriage & argue for the sake of filling white noise afterwards.

wen daifu is wen ruohan's third cousin. he doesn't wear his hair with any real embellishments or guans that denote status in the clan or even allude to his affiliation with the clan, despite the fact that his robes would give it away regardless. he has a gnarly scar on his body courtesy of the main family's children, and is often bullied onto nighthunts with them because he is the best practicing doctor of their generation. despite being brought on as a healer for the longer nighthunts and ruohan taking special interest on keeping his cousin by his side, wen daifu is pretty adamant about healing anyone from any sect that is injured in front of him. he's not taller than 5'7"/170cm, but his curt and clear way of speaking makes up for any attention he'd fail to garner just by existing.

wen ruohan is the middle of 3 boys and quite fond of playing weiqi. his older brother has no patience for sitting and playing board games with his younger brother, being a relatively active kid that enjoys pushing his weight around with other cultivators from his generation. his younger brother is half his age and takes a great deal of satisfaction in imitating their eldest brother but still looks to ruohan for approval. despite his attempts at imitating the eldest son, the youngest brother often finds himself on the receiving end of his peer's fists whenever their squabbles get out of hand. despite his penchant for being all-smiles, ruohan is fond of neither brother.

jin guangshan is the only boy in a family of daughters. all of the jin children are spoiled, and many of his older sisters made it a point to spoil him rotten. his father being elated that they finally have a boy to inherit the clan dotes on him and gives his boy anything he asks for, pardons any misgivings, and creates an environment that caters to his son's every whim. when he meets his future wife at the behest of his parents, his response is lackluster and despite being a beautiful boy, crushes her hopes with the weird faces he makes in response to being introduced to her.

qingheng-jun is every bit as quiet and intimidating as his youngest son grows up to be. he's a leader that gives off a cold and impenetrable aura that makes it extremely difficult for anyone to challenge his logic as sect-leader-to-be, but really quite enjoys it when someone is bold enough to challenge him. he's not the Most expressive person, but he is more than wangji. he just finds that there's not much worth having an expression over, certainly not in excess, and is adept at handling his tasks with the same grace his eldest will exude.

lan furen is a non-cultivator who was raised on horseback, traveling between the central plateaus and the eastern oceanfront. she's adept at living off of the land and while she isn't an inherently kind or social woman, it's easy to see that her heart lies calmest racing across the continent under the wide expanse of sky. she's an excellent marksman and roams with a band of for-hire escorts that keep cargo and people from harm on long treks. despite being a non-cultivator, she probably has the budding of a strong golden core that just isn't focused on in her daily life.

yu ziyuan is a girl about as demur as any other when she's sent to yunmeng jiang as a means of formal introduction to jiang fengmian. she's doll-like in both appearance and personality, but her chaperone comes with gifts from meishan yu to help push along the betrothal process. the gifts in question are resources forged through meishan yu, crystals refined in such a way that can react to and absorb spiritual power, much like how zidian functions. her meeting with cssr turns her bitter towards the prospect of marrying jfm but she is too proud and too filial to let feelings disrupt the process of their betrothal.

#mdzs #screaming into the void #thinks wistfully about ziyuan & jin furen being young women who were Very Good at the cultivation they performed #cangse sanren #yu ziyuan #jin furen #jin guangshan #jiang fengmian #wen ruohan #so many ocs #qingheng-jun #lan furen #wei changze #nie zongzhu #xiao laopo #nie furen #cw: implied rape #qourmet: aga

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talesfromnatea · 8 months

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Look me deeply in the eyes

Do you love me? You can lie. I won’t mind

(Hold Me Close - Madds Buckley)

Just thinking about Lan-furen and Qingheng-jun lately....

#mdzs #qingheng-jun #lan-furen #madam lan #Gusu Lan #Madds Buckley #this song is Them #also ngl i think the fandom is a bit harsh on Qingheng-jun #the man was a bad father no doubt call him out for his treatment of his sons that is fair #but like #when it comes to his wife #what was he supposed to do #not marry her and let her be executed?#it's not like madam lan HAD to agree to that #the other option was death yeah #but #it's not like he - a sect leader - could just let her go after committing a grave crime #id be p pissed if MY leader allowed murder bc Hot Woman #so unless we're expecting him to break every law #i don't really think he should be blamed for this anymore than lan-furen herself #considering we don't actually know why she killed the teacher #ANYWAY #qingheng-jun loving her so desperately and never knowing what she truly feels for him - if she'd have married him if she had a better choic #makes me feel things

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angstymdzsthoughts · 2 years

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For the 'Qingheng-Jun framed Madame Lan' idea, what if the "teacher" he murdered was his and Lan Qiren's father?

THE PLOT THICKENS!

Maybe their dad disapproved of Madam Lan and refused to entertain the idea of his son and heir marrying her. QHJs way of looking at it became ‘no one can stop me if I become sect leader’ and began to plan the murder of his own father. Ohh LQR would be devastated if he found out!

#reply #MDZS #madam lan #Qingheng-jun #Lan Qiren

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nangongpuye · 3 months

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(sect leaders at the time wwx first arrives at gusu)

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #cql #the untamed #wen ruohan #qingheng-jun #jin guangshan #jiang fengmian #nie mingjue #poll

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asha-mage · 2 years

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(In response to This Post)

(@not-a-darkfriend @defenestratedcow)

Okay. So, basically the idea has two parts. The first part is this:

The world MDZS and the world of WoT are not two separate worlds. Their ware one world, at radically different points in history. MDZS takes place in the early '1st Age' (our age), and Cultivation is like being a Wolfbrother: an ancient ability distinct from The One Power, long lost to history. By the time of EoTW, Cultivation is nothing more then a shadow of a shadow of a memory, save in one place: Shadar Logoth. Mordeth who went to the Finn to ask for a power separate but alike to the One Power, was granted 'The Old Magic'/Cultivation in response, but without context or knowledge of the dangers he became twisted by it, unwittingly turning to reckless Demonic Cultivation, which transformed Airdhol into Shadar Logoth. Mashadar is, in essence, a giant undead creature born of that misuse and the resentful spirits of all of the dead of Airdhol. This is one, short of the Choden Kal, the one power can do nothing to stop Mashadar: it requires suppression and containment by Cultivation, and their is no one living capable of doing that.

The second part of the idea, the more lengthy one, is this:

Basically, many WoT characters are MDZS characters reborn, but not MDZS characters of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji's generation, but rather characters from the generation /back/. In the same vein, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and their 'circle' are destined to be born post WoT in the 4th Age, to help guide and shape it.

To explain what I mean more directly:

Lan Mandragorn and Nynaeve al'Merea are Qingheng-Jun and Madam Lan reborn. In their previous life, where Lan/Qingheng-Jun didn't grow out of his messed up ideas of duty, love, and power, he really thought that 'marry the woman I love to avoid her being executed, then seclude myself because of my shame and failures denying my wife love and freedom, and my sons a father ' was a reasonable response to their situation. Nynaeve fierce and loving and full of fire, denied freedom as well as the chance to watch to love and guide her sons, of course subsumed despair as a result, refusing to live as a caged bird for anyone's sake. Their canon arc is as a result, largely redemption: Lan learning to move passed his messed up ideas of love duty and power, places his faith and trust in Nynaeve, who does the same in return. Their reward is not just a restored Malkier, but a chance to truly be their and love their children (who will include two sons of course, with a remarkable resemblance to each other, who will share in both their father's intense sense of duty and sentimentality.)

Faile is Yu Ziyuan reborn, and unlike before where she married a man who she did not love and who could not love her in return (being hung up on his childhood friend to the point of taking in said friend's son and raising him as his own) for power and prestige, Faile set out to shape her own destiny. She found a man to truly love her, sometimes overwhelmingly, in Perin, Jiang Yanli and Jaing Cheng are (two of) their children in this timeline. Without cause for her bitterness, and with a true partner to helpher, she does a much better job of raising both, and though at their core their still the same (and Jiang Cheng specifically Is Very Much Her Child and also Very Saldean) Yanli is much stronger of will able to assert her power (as the future Lady of the Two Rivers) and Jiang Cheng is more capable of patience and moderation when needed, having learned it from his (new) father.

Now to show my hand as a filthy ChangMian shipper: Jiang Fengmian was a minor Saldaean Lord who Faile's parents (and specifically her mother Deira) badly wanted her to marry. But after Faile ran off to become a hunter for the horn, Fengmian decided to do the same, eloping with his childhood friend and retainer Wei Changze to become mercenaries together. That choice, to commit himself to the man he loved over a lifetime of projecting his regrets onto his own children, and pinning for a dead man, raising Wei Changze's son in penance for failing him, earns him true happiness with said man he loves. After several misadventures (and their own slow burn) they ended up in Seaenchan, post-fracturing of the Empire, and Wei Changze the leader and protector of a small rebellious port town turned independent city state. Their they are raising their son. (And insisting bald faced that he is both of their biological child, impossibilities of that aside).

Elayne's twins? Wen Qing and Wen Ning reborn. Elayne's unification of Cairhien and Andor's crowns has stabilized her rule, and Wen Qing will one day inherit her crown. To that end Elayne and Faile are trying, very very subtlety arrange a marriage between Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng without letting anyone involved know that's what their doing, since it's hard to tell who would go more ballistic: Wen Qing (at having no say in her husband), Jiang Cheng (at being sold like cattle), or Perrin (at having his son's future used as a political gambit). The fact that Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing are very obviously smitten with each other and have no intention of ever admitting it to themselves or anyone else, drives both their mothers insane.

Finally, the Big One: Wangxian.

Wangxian specifically, are Heroes of the Horn, souls spun out again and again to make new legends and help shape the future. Like Birgitte and Gaidal Cain they are always spun out together, and also like Birgitte and Gaidal (who are the OG hate-at-first-sight/enemies to lovers), Wangxian are the OG slow burn/childhood In every life they fall madly in love, but take time and proving it to both themselves and each other. Sometimes they are a tragedy. Sometimes a grand epic. Always is it a long and hard road to loving each other.

In the 4th Age, their a Prince of Malkier (sent to the White Tower to train with the Warders) and a young Asha'man solider, sent to the Black Tower after it was discovered he was born with the Spark. They meet of course, when Wei Wuxian is sent to the White Tower for his Required Exchange Student Credit, and tries to sneak out into Tar Valon only to be caught.

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday

A snippet from the next chapter of You Are Of Their Ilk, continuing on from the last bit I posted a while back where Lan Qiren is finally confronting Qingheng-jun about the elders and stuff.

-/-

“Were you intending on informing me, then, that you have seen fit to complicate the inheritance of the heirs I have provided?”

Lan Qiren blinks a little at the nonsequitur, but this is far from a new argument. There were many in those first months of Wei Ying’s living in Cloud Recesses who thought Lan Qiren planned to supplant his nephews as Heirs with the presence of his ‘own’ child. A ridiculous notion that he had very swiftly disabused the Sect of through both word and action, but an unsurprising conclusion for his brother to have come to after likely receiving the old news fresh from one of the elders he’d spoken with.

“It did not seem pertinent, when you were so unmoved and uncaring of your own sons’ births years ago. Why should I bother you for the introduction of one young orphan into the Sect, whose inheritance will be nothing save the education every other non-clan disciple receives?”

A muscle jumps in Lan Qihua’s jaw as he raises his cup to his lips to take a sip of his tea; Lan Qiren can’t help but feel that quite without his knowing it the conversation has become something like a sparring session, and he just landed a blow.

“What does it matter to you what I said to the elders when they came at my call? They retreated into seclusion, did they not? Your way is clear, you may do with the Sect as you wish.”

Lan Qiren tamps down another flash of irritation, hot and tight in his chest.

“None of this is what I wish,” he says in a fit of soul-weary honesty. “But I will do what I can to pass the Sect into better hands than mine, and hopefully leave it in a better state than you did for me. If you will not tell me what you said to the elders then I have nothing further to do here.”

Lan Qihua glares at him coldly enough that Lan Qiren’s feels the chill of it down his spine as if it were a curse, sure that later when he undresses to bathe he’ll find a mark on him somewhere, physical evidence of his brother’s hatred clinging to his skin. He stays silent, though, and so after a heavy pause Lan Qiren simply gets to his feet and turns to go without a proper farewell.

“Fengyi was right about you,” he says when he pauses at the door, hand resting carefully on the freshly-cut timber. He traces a fingertip along a whorl in the wood as his mind wanders to his Sworn Brother. His…partner, who had tried to tell him the truth of what he would find in an attempt to save him from continuing to be haunted by the ghost of the brother he’d really never had. “You’re nothing more than a shell of a man. If this is the greatest strength of the Lan Sect then it is no longer any wonder that those who once supported you discovered their cause is hopeless upon seeing what you’ve become. If I were to ever think to rely on you again in this life I would despair as well.”

Lan Qiren steps out of the house as porcelain shatters against the door beside him, razor sharp shards of what had moments ago been a teacup clattering harmlessly to the ground behind him as he steps out into the sunlight his brother has shunned to meditate on his own endless misery.

#the untamed fanfic #WIP Wednesday #Lan Qiren #Qingheng-jun #You Are Of Their Ilk

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robininthelabyrinth · 8 months

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The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 14

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

———————————————————————-

“Do you think something unfortunate happened between Cangse Sanren and Jiang Fengmian?” Lan Qiren asked Wen Ruohan, who just stared blankly at him. “Do not think that I am complaining, given how much it accrues to my benefit. It is only that I really cannot imagine doing a thing that would cause that much internal strife to a person I consider to be my friend.”

Despite his reluctance to ever let his two nephews out of his sight again now that he’d seen them again, Lan Qiren had quickly approved Wen Ruohan’s proposed plan to have Cangse Sanren smuggle Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji out of the Lotus Pier, taking advantage of the fact that as a rogue cultivator she could leave early and with relatively little suspicion.

He knew, just as Wen Ruohan knew, that the two of them would be the prime suspects in the disappearance when it was inevitably discovered and reported – it was inevitable, given Lan Qiren’s role in his nephews’ lives up until this point, and the rumors of discord between him and his brother. No matter what they did, it would be impossible to conceal Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji well enough to keep them from being found and returned to their father and sect. And, once returned…

Well, Lan Qiren’s brother had been clear enough about what would happen to them, and that had been before Xichen and Wangji had flagrantly violated Lan sect custom (although not the rules, strictly speaking) in a manner that displayed their preference for Lan Qiren over their father.

(Lan Qiren wished that he could trust his brother to be fair and impartial in imposing punishment, limiting himself only to the rules the boys had actually broken – but his trust in his brother had disappeared long before his love for him had gone. Even in his youth when his brother had only disliked him, Lan Qiren had found his brother to be rather petty on the subject of punishment.)

Lan Qiren thought that Wen Ruohan had been surprised by how swiftly he had agreed with the plan, which he’d done more or less immediately after he’d finished wiping the tears from his nephews’ eyes. Neither Xichen nor Wangji had wanted to leave him, with Wangji being especially distraught, but Lan Qiren had explained the issue to them to the best of his abilities, sticking as much as possible to his desire to see them again rather than expressly stating or even implying any insult to their father. He’d then set rules for their upcoming trip, cautioning and scolding them in exactly the way he would if the trip were merely to go down to Caiyi with their cousins to buy sweets, and he’d seen with satisfaction the way they had both relaxed as soon as the sense of familiarity settled in. He hoped it would help, particularly with Wangji, who was so very clearly suffering greatly from all the changes and the lack of the set schedule Lan Qiren had so painstakingly helped him put together…

No, Lan Qiren couldn’t think of that. Not that, nor of how nervous and burdened Xichen looked, weighed down by responsibility years before it should have fallen upon him. It would only cause himself pointless distress, when he should instead spend his time thinking of the future and what he could do to abate their distress going forward.

(“I thought you’d object,” Wen Ruohan remarked to him in an undertone while Cangse Sanren had been very colorfully introducing herself to the boys, both of whom seemed somewhat doubtful and possibly mildly disapproving in a way that suggested they were in the process of being thoroughly charmed. Cangse Sanren had a very particular way about her of doing that. “Or at least that you would need some convincing that it wasn’t necessary to send them back to the Cloud Recesses where they belong, rather than let them come into my grasp.”

“I told you before that I intended to use you,” Lan Qiren replied, cognizant of but not entirely understanding the flash of delight on Wen Ruohan’s face at his words. “They will return to the Cloud Recesses only once their well-being has been secured to my satisfaction, which I expect will require, at minimum, negotiations with my sect elders. Until that time they must be in a safe place that can resist the disapproval of even the entire cultivation world. Other than your Nightless City, I can think of nowhere else that would do, short of barricading myself in some unpleasant locale naturally inclined towards defense. You will simply have to suffer their presence until then.”

“After hearing the way you used your sect rules to justify keeping them, I doubt I will be suffering,” Wen Ruohan said, voice droll. “Your Xichen in particular has picked up your fondness for loopholes.”

“They are not loopholes. The rules are complex and require tailoring to the present circumstances – ”

“They can keep company with my Chao-er,” Wen Ruohan interrupted. He’d been smirking. “Perhaps they can improve him.”)

In short, Lan Qiren had been quite satisfied with Wen Ruohan’s proposed plan. What he hadn’t expected was that Cangse Sanren would take the initiative to add her own twist, which she did by walking straight up to Jiang Fengmian and asking for permission to take his children on a trip through the cultivation world. She’d claimed that the idea had come upon her abruptly and that she hoped that it would build better ties between their families – to allow her Wei Ying and his Jiang Cheng to grow naturally into friends, the way Jiang Fengmian had with her husband Wei Changze, who had not attended the conference.

That absence seemed slightly odd to Lan Qiren, given that Wei Changze had been the one who’d grown up in the Lotus Pier to start with, but he hadn’t had time to question Cangse Sanren on the subject – assuming he even could, given that in truth they were not particularly well-acquainted. One summer’s worth of something combative that could barely be termed friendship, if one squinted, and a few casual greetings in passing since then, an unreturned letter or two…

Lan Qiren’s life had not left him much room for friends, which he now regretted. There were so many times he had let a relationship that seemed ready to grow wither away instead – Lan Yueheng, Cangse Sanren, Lao Nie… He would have to do better in the future. Perhaps this escapade would allow him to regain something of the acquaintance he had once shared with Cangse Sanren, and then he would be able to ask her questions directly, rather than needing to inquire with Wen Ruohan.

At any rate, Cangse Sanren had made the request, and, perhaps unsurprisingly, Jiang Fengmian had agreed. Cangse Sanren had then very enthusiastically and very quickly wrangled up both Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng, commandeered a carriage, and driven away from the Lotus Pier without so much as a backwards glance – or any indication that the carriage contained two sets of children, one sitting on the seats and the other hidden in the interior compartments, wrapped in sheets and pretending to be pillows. Her statement to the door guards, that she was traveling with some children entrusted to her, would have made any Lan sect politician proud, being both completely truthful and absolutely unhelpful.

It was only after they’d all already left that it had come out that Jiang Fengmian had agreed to Cangse Sanren’s proposal without consulting or even telling his fearsome wife…and she was not happy about it.

Politeness dictated that, as guests of the Lotus Pier, everyone attending the discussion conference should respect their hosts’ privacy. And they were, even if that meant pretending not to hear the shouting and crashing of items being thrown – but their hosts were certainly not making it easy.

Surely at some point they’d think to put up a privacy screen of some sort…

“I do think that she did it deliberately,” Lan Qiren continued, thinking aloud. “Not just in terms of what she asked to do, but in then leaving without confirming the request with Yu Ziyuan, though she must have known that it would cause Jiang Fengmian no end of trouble. I even understand the logic – the fight between the two of them, which they seem to incorrectly think we cannot hear or perceive, has captivated the attention of the cultivation world. The information about my nephews’ disappearance has thus been held back a little longer. But it seems…not cruel, precisely. But certainly it seems rather cutthroat a move to pull on someone close to you. Wouldn’t you agree?”

When Wen Ruohan didn’t respond, Lan Qiren shrugged.

“I thought you might have some insight,” he explained. “You and Lao Nie – you have something similar, do you not? You are lovers, but I noticed that you are also often at each other’s throats, and not in a way that could be explained through mutually consensual sadism. In fact, that is another thing I would like to understand. Is there some new cause for that? I had not seen you two interact for a while, but I recall that you did not behave like that with each other before – ”

“Could we not discuss this right now?” Wen Ruohan interrupted. His voice sounded strained. “Perhaps – later…?”

“Ah, of course, of course,” Lan Qiren said, nodding in apology, though his remorse was not as genuine as it probably should be. He had been doing it on purpose. “This is supposed to be for you, after all. I should focus my attention more thoroughly. Would you like to finish again?”

“No,” Wen Ruohan said fervently. “Four in one night is enough, thank you.”

“I think you can manage once more,” Lan Qiren said encouragingly, making Wen Ruohan whine and dig his nails into Lan Qiren’s sides in an encouraging way that was far from consistent with his words of denial. “You were the one who wanted me to…hmm, what was the phrase you used – ”

“Your sect has to have some sort of rule against this,” Wen Ruohan complained insincerely. “When I said I wanted you to fuck me into next week, this is not what I meant.”

He would probably try to take Lan Qiren’s head off if he actually tried to stop.

“Do not tell lies,” Lan Qiren reminded him virtuously, then added, perhaps a little maliciously: “But you are correct, there is an applicable rule, I suppose. How does Sect Leader Wen feel about Do not bully the weak…?”

Predictably, Wen Ruohan growled at the suggestion that he was weak, and yet again at Lan Qiren’s suggestion that he really could just stop what he was doing if it was getting to be too much for him. Lan Qiren did put a pause on the conversation after that, at least – he knew that Wen Ruohan enjoyed listening to him talk, which was probably the first time anyone had ever paid him that particular compliment, but also that after a certain amount of exertion and pleasure he found it increasingly difficult to keep up with the strategic analysis that he most liked hearing. It would be discourteous to abuse that knowledge.

Well, more than he already was, anyway.

Lan Qiren hadn’t been lying about wanting to do something for Wen Ruohan. He was grateful, overwhelmingly grateful, grateful enough that it was almost frightening. Wen Ruohan might not have arranged his nephews’ departure from the Cloud Recesses, they had done that themselves – and the mere thought of it was enough to make Lan Qiren’s heart freeze in his chest in terror – but he had found them, and he had swiftly taken action to help Lan Qiren keep them. Even if he was acting in part due to his own motives, which Lan Qiren never doubted, he had still done it, and in so doing, had saved his nephews from whatever foul plan their father had in mind for them.

The rules said Have affection and gratitude, and Lan Qiren would do his best.

“Fuck,” Wen Ruohan said when Lan Qiren coaxed him to finish yet again, his entire body gone utterly limp and relaxed. “Fuck, that was – good. Painfully good. How are you not done yet?”

“I am using my spiritual energy to improve my stamina,” Lan Qiren said. He’d thought it was pretty obvious, but Wen Ruohan gave him a look that suggested he thought Lan Qiren was the insane one of the pair of them.

“That phrasing suggests that in previous incidents you didn’t – ”

Lan Qiren hadn’t thought it was necessary before.

“– and also, stamina is only stamina, even when backed with spiritual energy. You still need willpower to direct your actions without being distracted or overwhelmed by pleasure.”

“Willpower is something I am not short of,” Lan Qiren said dryly, enjoying the way the words made Wen Ruohan’s throat work as he swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in a way that suggested that the mind was still willing even if the body was no longer able. “As for the question I believe actually you meant to ask – namely why I haven’t finished yet – I thought you might enjoy it if I kept going after you passed out. If I were to use you for my own purposes and my own pleasure at a time when you were no longer able to resist.”

“…fuck,” Wen Ruohan said, and shut his eyes. “Yes, do that.”

Lan Qiren obliged him.

When he was done, he got up to engage in the necessary clean-up, which included applying healing salve to the myriad of little injuries Wen Ruohan invariably left on him. The other man was unquestionably a sadist, with strong fondness for physical pain – he liked the scratches and bruises he left littered on Lan Qiren’s body, liked inflicting them and liked seeing them later so that he could smirk in reminiscence of having caused them. Mindful of that, and of his gratitude, Lan Qiren purposefully did not seek to fully heal the marks Wen Ruohan had left on his neck, each one purposefully high so that the edges would show even if he wore his most concealing high-collared robes, while being just barely low enough that Wen Ruohan could claim that he’d done it unintentionally.

Normally, it would annoy Lan Qiren, but – well, he was grateful. Let Wen Ruohan have his fun.

The next morning, he rose at his usual time and instructed the servants at the door not to wake Wen Ruohan until he rose naturally. The whole cultivation world had tacitly agreed to jointly pretend that the original postponement of the usual morning meeting to lunchtime had always been meant as a postponement until lunchtime the next day, so as to avoid embarrassing their hosts more than they were already embarrassing themselves and also to provide the Jiang sect disciple scrambling to fix things with a little more breathing room. That meant there was no point in making Wen Ruohan drag himself out of bed early for socialization he already had little to no interest in.

Instead, when his morning routine was done, Lan Qiren dressed himself in the most atrocious of the robes Wen Ruohan had had prepared for him – the ones streaked with bright red suns, similar to the ones the main Wen clan wore, and completed with an embroidered belt in which the subdued black-on-black pattern of clouds was eclipsed by the gold and ruby of the sun used as the clasp in what must be the most unsubtle of metaphors – and went out himself. In truth, he hated the social aspects of the discussion conferences just as much, if not more, than Wen Ruohan did, since Wen Ruohan only disliked making time for those he perceived to be his social inferiors or his competition, while Lan Qiren could have done very well without seeing any of them at all.

But as all sect leaders eventually learned, dislike of an act could not mean disregarding it.

Lan Qiren might not like socializing, no, but he could do it, and he could do it well. He had ten years of knowledge at his fingertips, enabling him to personalize his interactions with each sect leader he met – he knew which ones had recently had children and which ones had married, which ones had had recent success in night-hunts and which ones had had embarrassing failures, knew when to offer congratulations and when not to. He knew to always compliment Sect Leader Huang on his wife and ask Sect Leader Ouyang about his only son, knew to avoid mentioning Tingshan He to Huaitang Wu while always doing so the other way around, knew that a casual reference to the fierce ladies of Chenwei Zhao would make the sect leader of Songdian Zhao panic and yield under almost any circumstances…

Do not embarrass your wife in public, he had written to himself, setting it as a rule and thinking of Jiang Fengmian, and he’d been right, hadn’t he? Support your wife’s family, for they are now your own.

And Lan Qiren…Lan Qiren was grateful.

So he ignored his dislike and even his dignity, and made the informal rounds of visits to the other cultivation sects, greeting who he should greet and snubbing no one he shouldn’t snub. He let them look at him in his Wen sect clothing, Wen Ruohan’s blatant symbol of possession, and equally he let them smirk at the marks on his neck, revealed by the low collar of the robes he’d picked out. He was polite and…well, not charming, he didn’t think he could manage charming, toneless and tactless as he was.

But he could certainly manage to be compelling, implying without saying that Wen Ruohan had made significant plans and that he was aware of them while refusing to share any details. For some sect leaders he put on a concerned look, suggesting that he disapproved of what he had heard but was helpless to do anything about it, while for others he permitted himself an expression of mild satisfaction, as though he had succeeded in convincing Wen Ruohan to do something out of his usual line. In each case, he left the sect leader he spoke with something to think about, something that they would turn over and over again in their minds until they could think of nothing else, until they wanted nothing more than to meet up in groups to speculate with each other about the Wen sect’s next move.

Anyone else seeking to accomplish something at this discussion conference would be hard-pressed to get in a word. Even the return of his brother, which would have otherwise been the main subject of the day, was cast aside as old news, unable to make a dent in the furor.

Because Lan Qiren was grateful, but also because he was spiteful, too.

“I like the outfit,” Lao Nie said to him, eyes curved with glee, when Lan Qiren visited the portion of the main dining hall typically (if informally) set aside for the Great Sect leaders. Lan Qiren’s brother was standing by his side, stonily mute once more. “Very…colorful.”

He was making a comment on the mauled state of Lan Qiren’s neck, Lan Qiren surmised. He had heard similar comments all morning, some far less subtle than others.

“Thank you,” he replied politely. “All credit goes to my wife.”

If he put a mild stress on the word wife, or allowed his voice to be louder than usual so that it would carry, causing the rest of the room to burst out in whispered speculation at the fact that Lan Qiren had said it not once but twice, then it was only a matter of good politics. Everyone would wonder at Wen Ruohan’s intentions, worry about the possible results of his schemes. Their minds and mouths would be filled with nothing but him – just as Wen Ruohan had wanted.

Be your wife’s partner, after all.

And if those very same acts of good politics also happened to make Lan Qiren’s brother’s eyes fill with anger at the reminder that Lan Qiren had taken the insult he’d intended to degrade him and turned it into a source of power instead…well. Lan Qiren had promised himself that he would make his brother live in regret, and he intended to do it.

There would be consequences to his current display, Lan Qiren knew. His brother was quite capable of disregarding their sect’s rule against bearing grudges, and he was both powerful and clever in his own right, however out of practice he might be at the moment. He had been raised by their father to play the political game in ways Lan Qiren had never been, and he had been good at it, those few years he had managed the sect before he had gone into seclusion. He would be thoughtful, and he would be vengeful, and Lan Qiren had relatively little power to resist any retaliation his brother might wish to take in revenge for this slight. Lan Qiren knew too well, as most of the other sect leaders did not, that his relationship with Wen Ruohan was a delicate one, born of cooperation held together solely by mutual interest; he wasn’t anywhere near as favored or as influential as he was pretending to be, and his brother would eventually learn that, even if he didn’t know it yet. There would be consequences.

But now that Lan Qiren knew that those consequences would not fall on his nephews, he didn’t care.

Do not be haughty and complacent, the rules said. He was knowingly breaking that rule, and to knowingly break a rule was worse than an accidental violation – he would require a more severe punishment to correct his future behavior. Possibly even to the point of needing physical discipline, rather than merely reviewing the basis of the rule or copying it out.

(Perhaps Wen Ruohan would enjoy administering it? That seemed likely. And Lan Qiren was grateful…)

“Oh, that reminds me,” Lao Nie said with a smirk that suggested mischief. “Your secret marriage meant that I didn’t get a chance to send a wedding present. Naturally I will have to make up for that. Do you have anything in mind? Or should I just dig through my treasury?”

Lan Qiren grimaced at the thought of yet more priceless items ending up unused in Wen Ruohan’s treasure rooms, swords left to rust and instruments gone out of tune.

“I suspect my new household already has everything that it needs,” he said, then added, dryly, “Though I understand that my wife has always appreciated having a little more land.”

Lao Nie cackled. “Not a chance, my friend. Not a chance.”

“In that case, we will be satisfied with no gifts at all, and your presence at dinner some time.” Lan Qiren glanced sidelong at his brother and added, a little colder and much less sincere, “Naturally, Xiongzhang should also come to visit us when it suits him best.”

His brother smiled thinly. “I would be more than delighted to visit, of course, when you have a chance to settle down. I know how…busy…you’ve been, in the service of your new family.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t sure what his brother meant to imply by that, but it made the smile on Lao Nie’s face fade away into a mild frown, which meant it was probably some sort of subtle insult.

“Half the people I spoke to this morning said that you’d already been to visit them,” his brother continued in seeming explanation, and Lao Nie’s expression cleared up, though Lan Qiren was sure that his brother had actually meant whatever insult he’d initially implied. “Don’t let yourself get worked over too hard, Qiren.”

There was another insult there, which again Lan Qiren couldn’t figure out, but he was more interested in the fact that his brother had also been making the informal rounds of socialization. He didn’t know his brother well enough anymore to be able to determine if he’d done it because he’d had a specific goal, or merely as a means of reintroducing himself to the cultivation world, or else simply because he enjoyed socializing more than Lan Qiren ever had. If his brother had been anyone else, and Lan Qiren still in his position as sect leader, he would have made a point of trying to find out – and he still could, he supposed, though he would have to do it through Wen Ruohan’s means rather than his own. Still, it would mean losing face, having to ask someone else a question about his own brother…

“Sect Leader!” someone called, and multiple heads turned, but it was a Lan sect disciple who was calling. An older one, one of the ones that had never liked Lan Qiren, and he looked worried, rushing forward at an unusual speed to whisper into Lan Qiren’s brother’s ear.

Ah. It is time, then.

Lan Qiren inclined his head to Lao Nie and started making his way away from them. It would be better to appear that he had no idea what was being said before the news came out, if only because his brother would eventually find a way to confront him, presumably in private –

“Qiren, stop.”

His brother’s voice cracked like a whip, drawing attention from the room at large. Lan Qiren pressed his lips together in irritation, wondering if his brother had no care for their sect’s face. Was he really going to confront him here and now, in front of everyone?

Nevertheless, he turned back. “Yes, Xiongzhang?”

“My sons have gone missing from the Cloud Recesses,” his brother said, watching him with a cold expression, and Lan Qiren pressed his lips together further: it seemed that his brother did, in fact, intend to do this here and now. “Do you know where they might be?”

On the road to Xixiang, Lan Qiren thought to himself. Cangse Sanren had mentioned hearing rumors of something there that might be worth night-hunting, a matter of some urgency – it was one of those no-man’s-land regions that lacked a local cultivation sect and therefore relied on the kindness of rogue cultivators like her and her husband. Critically, it was not too far from the Lan sect’s outer borders, meaning that Cangse Sanren would have a plausible (though not especially believable) place where she could have run into Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji that didn’t involve stealing them away from their rightful home, and from there she would make her way towards the Nightless City.

“I do not know where they are right now,” he said, careful to be precise: he didn’t know where on the road they might be, whether they’d gone fast enough to be past the nearest town by now or if they had taken a longer, more circuitous route. With Cangse Sanren involved, it could be anything. For all he knew, she could have decided to go backwards. “Do you mean to say you do not know? Is there any risk that they have been kidnapped?”

Lan Qiren rarely had reason to be thankful for his natural lack of affect, which made others perceive him as being dull and uninteresting, but it was helpful now – he was a poor actor, but no one would question his relative calm or use it as a reason to doubt his sincerity. His brother would suspect him even more, knowing as he did of Lan Qiren’s meltdowns, his fears, his recent emotional instability, but he couldn’t mention any of those, not without explaining why he might think such a reaction was likely. That wouldn’t leave either of them with any face, and his brother cared deeply for his face, even if he sometimes seemed to forget that his sect also had face that he should concern himself with.

That left him helpless – unless he could force Lan Qiren to admit to something.

“Do not tell lies,” his brother said.

“I am not lying,” Lan Qiren said, forcing himself to look at his brother directly, or at least as close as he could tolerate. “Xiongzhang, you know that I would never risk letting my nephews come to harm.”

Even if the harm comes from you.

His brother’s eyes narrowed. He understood the implied message – that Lan Qiren did know where the boys were. More: that his strongest leverage against Lan Qiren had disappeared along with them.

“Qiren – ”

“I think that is enough,” Wen Ruohan said, his powerful voice carrying through the room. Lan Qiren glanced over to look at him: he was standing at the door, with his hands clasped behind his back and that cruel smile he used in public. He’d timed his entrance well, with the late morning sun glittering off the water to frame him and his incredibly strong cultivation was rolling off of him in waves, a display and reminder that he was so much more powerful than the rest of them. “He has already said he didn’t know, and we all know Lan Qiren doesn’t lie. I will not permit one of my people to be baselessly questioned any further.”

He strolled forward, ignoring the way they all gawked at him.

“I assume you will nevertheless want to check my Wen sect’s rooms…?” he said mildly, stopping only when he was standing by Lan Qiren’s side. “You are welcome to do so. You will find no lost children there, but by all means, go ahead and waste your time.”

“I thank Sect Leader Wen for his courtesy,” Lan Qiren’s brother said smoothly, jerking his head in the briefest of inclines before sweeping out the door.

Lao Nie glanced at the two of them with a brief frown of his own, but then opted to head out as well, undoubtedly off to offer his assistance with the search. That was the Nie sect: always willing to fight evil no matter where it might be.

Once they were gone, the room quickly lit up in gossip, everyone immediately seeking out someone else with whom they could discuss this newest twist. And to think that when they’d arrived, they probably thought that they would spend the entire conference talking about the return of Lan Qiren’s brother…

“I heard that you had a busy morning,” Wen Ruohan murmured in Lan Qiren’s ear. When Lan Qiren looked at him, his eyes were shining with barely restrained excitement. “You look – ravishing.”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes. “I’m sure. Tell me, is it the outfit that stakes your claim or the chaos I caused in your name that does it for you?”

“Can’t it be both? Surely I’ve demonstrated the genuine nature of my interest in you by now.”

Lan Qiren snorted. He was quite certain that Wen Ruohan would happily drag him into a convenient bedroom and demand service at this very moment if he thought they could get away with it.

“It was the least I could do,” he said instead. “Have affection and gratitude. You should make the rounds yourself, while you can – if things keep going the way they are, this entire conference will end up getting canceled.”

“Mm, a good point.” A smirk played around his lips. “Perhaps I’ll go check in on Sect Leader Chang to see how Yueyang Chang is settling in. It is their first discussion conference as a subordinate clan of the Wen sect.”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes at the other man’s smugness. The plan had worked out just as Lan Qiren had proposed, much to Wen Ruohan’s evident delight, though if he kept tormenting Sect Leader Chang with how badly his scheme to defeat his neighbors had gone, the man was likely to work himself into an aneurysm. Which would make him much less useful to Wen Ruohan!

“What about you?” Wen Ruohan asked. “Do you have more people you want to see?”

“‘Want’ is not the word I would select in this context,” Lan Qiren said with a faint sigh. “And no, not quite. At any rate, it would be inappropriate for me to continue socializing while my nephews are missing, even if, as a member of another sect, it is equally inappropriate for me to assist in the search without permission. However, I am certain that if I remain here unattended any number of my peers will come to express their best wishes on my nephews’ swift return.”

“Your analysis is shrewd as ever, Lan Qiren, but for one thing: you have no peer.” Wen Ruohan’s icy smile briefly curled up into something a little more genuine. “Other than me, of course.”

Of course you would think that, self-absorbed narcissist that you are, Lan Qiren thought to himself, but perhaps a little more fondly than before. Self-absorbed or not, Wen Ruohan had helped him when he had needed it most, and not only once. Have affection and gratitude indeed…

The first few people who approached Lan Qiren only came to fish for gossip, but he repelled them easily enough. The next two after that actually had something interesting to say, though whether they meant to have said it Lan Qiren could not be sure. Potential allies or enemies, in any event, and he noted down their names to share with Wen Ruohan afterwards.

The one after that, though, had a different goal entirely.

“It’s just, you see, you did such a good job with A-Ling,” Sect Leader Xie said apologetically. He was the head of a small independent sect loosely allied with the Lan, but he’d only made a cursory attempt to comfort Lan Qiren over the disappearance of his nephews, focusing instead on his own concerns. “Everything about him has improved: his conduct, his temperament, even his martial skills and cultivation. A-Yi has been immensely jealous, and we’ve been promising him all year that he would get the chance to attend your classes once he was old enough…”

“I intend to resume my classes,” Lan Qiren reassured him. “They will need to be held in the Nightless City, as I now reside there, and as a result I expect to start later in the season than usual, but they will still be taking place.”

Indeed, Wen Ruohan was likely to insist on it.

“The Nightless City,” Sect Leader Xie repeated, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t mean to be rude, Teacher Lan, but…”

“Naturally anyone who comes to my classes will have my personal guarantee of safe passage, as well as the same guarantee from Sect Leader Wen,” Lan Qiren said firmly. He would insist on it, and he thought he was likely to get it – it wasn’t as though Wen Ruohan could run the classes without him. Anyway, Wen Ruohan saw the classes (however incorrectly) as planting seeds for the future, a long-term investment, so he was highly unlikely to risk that future by acting against any of Lan Qiren’s students in the present. “If anything ever happens that makes me doubt that guarantee, I will cancel rather than risk any student that is entrusted to me.”

“Oh, that’s good, that’s good. Very good! As always, Teacher Lan, you are the most reliable!”

Lan Qiren inclined his head and watched with no little bemusement as Sect Leader Xie bustled away back to his preferred clique, saying some words to them that made them all perk their heads up and look over at him like a gaggle of meerkats from some distant foreign land. He was aware, of course, that he had developed something of a reputation as a teacher, but it was rather gratifying to see other people so enthusiastic about the notion of sending him their children…

Lan Qiren shook his head and turned his attention back to politics.

Another five visitors later, his enthusiasm was starting to flag, as he would have expected. The process of politics was seemingly interminable, and the amount of time and effort it took to deal with people was simply exhausting. He was just thinking that he should find his way to a slightly more obscure corner –

“Murder!”

Lan Qiren startled, as did everyone around him, each of them falling silent and wondering if they’d misheard.

“Murder!” someone shouted. It was a panting, panicked disciple in nondescript colors that had clearly just run into the main hall, chest heaving and eyes wide as saucers. “Help, please! Someone’s been murdered!”

Lan Qiren started making his way forward at once, his fingers immediately itching for either his sword or his guqin, but found that he was making no headway. Everyone else was still staring at the disciple blankly, as if trying to understand how something like that could have happened here, amongst all of the cultivators, and when all of them were unarmed, too.

“I’m telling you, someone’s been murdered…!”

Lan Qiren gave up on subtlety and started forcing his way through the people in his way. It was rude, but it worked: the crowd parted before him as soon as they noticed him, the smaller sect leaders instinctively deferring to a Great Sect leader, even though he wasn’t one any longer.

“Who has been injured?” he said sharply to the panicked disciple, and when that didn’t work, added, “Show me. Where are they?”

The disciple led the way outside, where a number of people were already gathering, muttering to each other. There was the smell of blood in the air, mixing unpleasantly with the flowers and water, and when Lan Qiren finally made it through the crowd, he found that its source was a middle-aged man in a green robe, splayed out on his belly in a puddle of his own blood, half-in and half-out of one of the Lotus Pier’s many pavilions. Several people were already kneeling next to him, helping turn him over.

He looked – familiar.

“It’s Sect Leader Pei!” someone shouted, recognizing the man at exactly the same moment Lan Qiren did. “Wangdu Pei!”

Sect Leader Pei? Why is that name familiar – Oh no.

Oh no.

“But who would want to hurt him?” The whispers had already started. “He didn’t have any enemies. Wangdu Pei is a subsidiary sect of Lanling Jin. Who would dare?”

And then, inevitably, as Lan Qiren had already known they would –

“Didn’t Sect Leader Pei get into a dispute with Sect Leader Wen? He did, didn’t he? Yesterday, at the morning meeting, he called out the former Sect Leader Lan for where he was sitting. Sect Leader Wen was angry, you saw him, you saw his face. He wanted to hurt him…he wanted to kill him…”

Lan Qiren gritted his teeth and ignored the whispers, kneeling beside the body and pressing one hand to the man’s neck, the other to his nose, seeking breath. Abruptly, he flashed back to being in a similar position with He Kexin’s body, all her once-prodigious beauty rendered abruptly hollow, spelling the beginning of so much horrible change.

For a moment he found it hard to breathe.

And then he felt something under his fingertips, something that had been absent with He Kexin, and that brought him back to himself.

“He’s not dead,” Lan Qiren said. No one heard him, they were too busy gossiping. This was why his sect had set Talking behind others’ backs is prohibited as a rule.He raised his voice to his best schoolteacher’s bellow: “Listen to me!”

Everyone fell silent and looked at him.

“Sect Leader Pei is not dead,” Lan Qiren said firmly. “There is still a pulse, and breath. Someone go fetch a doctor at once.”

No one moved.

“Is he really not dead?” Someone unseen hissed. “Or is Teacher Lan just covering up for his lover…?”

Lan Qiren was about to retort that Wen Ruohan was his lawfully married wife, not a lover, when he was interrupted once more.

This time, though, it wasn’t a verbal interruption. Rather, a sudden sense of tremendous pressure suddenly came crashing down on him, on all of them, knocking half the sect leaders still standing down to their knees and making the rest stagger. It felt as though the weight of a mountain had abruptly settled down on their shoulders. The force of it curved their shoulders from the strain, crushing their chests and lungs, making it impossible to draw air –

“I would offer my own services,” Wen Ruohan said pleasantly from the doorway to the main hall, looking out at all of them in the reverse image of how he had entered the same hall not long before. “But for whatever reason I don’t think they would be properly appreciated, despite my sect’s fame in medicine.”

He had his fingers up in a gesture not unlike a pinch, with a small round fleck of black smaller than a grain of rice rotating rapidly in place like a spinning marble, held between his thumb and middle finger.

Lan Qiren had never seen anything like it before. What was that…?

Wen Ruohan pinched his fingers a little closer together, causing the immense pressure to momentarily tighten – Lan Qiren felt as though he were drowning – and then brought them together in a swift snap that shattered the sense of heaviness all at once, freeing them from the terrible weight.

Lan Qiren inhaled sharply, drawing in air to fill his screaming lungs once more, and he wasn’t the only one to do so. He still didn’t know what it was that Wen Ruohan had just done, but he was tremendously grateful that it was over…and also, retroactively, that none of them had actually managed to succeed in truly angering Wen Ruohan, that ancient monster of the cultivation world.

He turned his head to catch Wen Ruohan’s gaze and nodded at him in thanks, as that had been a very efficient – if perhaps excessive – way of getting everyone to stop gossiping. Wen Ruohan smirked in response, inclining his head and spreading his hands by his sides in a subtle silent bow as if he were a performer that had just finished pulling off a particularly magnificent stunt of sleight-of-hand.

Ridiculous man.

“There must be a doctor somewhere,” Lan Qiren said loudly, trying to focus on what was important. Human life takes precedence. “Yunmeng Jiang must have some on retainer. Has someone sent a disciple to summon them?”

Luckily, it turned out someone had, and a few moments later three of them arrived, each one holding their medical kits. With Lan Qiren and Wen Ruohan both glowering at everyone, a path was swiftly opened up for them, and soon enough they were crouched around Sect Leader Pei, wielding acupuncture needles and bitter-smelling poultices and bandages and the like.

Lan Qiren took the opportunity to retreat, heading back to Wen Ruohan’s side. He had to speak with him as soon as possible – and privately, if they could manage it.

Unfortunately, that would be difficult, given all the people around them, many of whom were still eyeing them both suspiciously. But it was necessary, and urgent. He had to tell Wen Ruohan what people had thought when they’d seen Sect Leader Pei lying there, what they had suspected, who they had suspected…

Only Lan Qiren wasn’t quite sure how to manage it.

Leaving the scene together would only be deemed even more suspicious, and at precisely a moment in which it was absolutely vital for them to avoid increasing the already tense atmosphere; it was impossible. But neither was there some easy way to simply draw Wen Ruohan aside for a quiet word. It wasn’t as though Lan Qiren could just walk up to him and whisper in his ear…

Ah, no, wait. They were married. There was no reason he couldn’t.

Lan Qiren matched action to thought at once, arriving at Wen Ruohan’s side and leaning his head in close as if he were trying to kiss him on the cheek. Wen Ruohan reacted at once, reaching out one hand to wrap around him and pull him in closer, as if into an embrace, his second hand reaching up to cup the back of Lan Qiren’s head and draw him in close the way a man might to comfort a shaken loved one, cooperating with the illusion almost as if he knew what Lan Qiren were trying to do.

“Someone is trying to frame you,” Lan Qiren hissed into his ear.

To his surprise, Wen Ruohan snorted.

“Do not laugh. This is serious, take it seriously. I am entirely in earnest.”

“You always are,” Wen Ruohan murmured back, voice low. “But to jump immediately to framing…you recall that you haven’t seen me all morning, do you not? Who’s to say I wasn’t the one who did it…?”

Lan Qiren pulled his head back and gave Wen Ruohan his best glare, though he kept his voice quiet. “I told you to be serious. Naturally you did not do it! Others may doubt it, more fool they, but I know that you are neither insane nor an idiot. Even if you did intend to kill him, why would you do it now, when it serves none of your interests and would only harm your sect’s reputation if it were known?”

“An excellent point,” Wen Ruohan said. He was smiling, his eyes curved with good humor rather than dead and cold. “You’re entirely correct, as usual. I did not kill him, and I am being framed.”

“I know that. I said that. That is how I started this conversation. The question is what to do about it – ”

“Sect Leader Wen.”

Lan Qiren turned, drawing away from Wen Ruohan as he did. It was Jiang Fengmian who had called, a look of solemn neutrality on his face. Behind him were Lan Qiren’s brother and Jin Guangshan, the latter tapping his fan against his palm, and a few steps behind them was Lao Nie, lingering by the pavilion with Sect Leader Pei with a frown on his face and his hand resting on the hilt of his famous saber Jiwei.

Four Great Sects, joined together to face down the Wen, which as always stood alone.

Well, not quite alone, Lan Qiren amended. He put his hands behind his back, grounding his stance and making it quite clear from his posture that he had no intention of going anywhere.

Jiang Fengmian drew to a halt in front of where Wen Ruohan and Lan Qiren were standing.

“Sect Leader Wen,” he repeated, and raised his hands to salute respectfully. “There have been certain questions raised that I request that you answer, if you are willing. If you would come with me…?”

There was a dangerous smile playing at Wen Ruohan’s lips, though for once Lan Qiren could not sense his usual rage at anything even remotely suggestive of a challenge to his authority – on the contrary, he seemed to be in an extraordinarily good mood. Lan Qiren had no idea why that might be, given that he was blatantly being schemed against.

Though perhaps that was it. Lao Nie had once remarked to Lan Qiren that Wen Ruohan did not seem to overly mind betrayals provided that they were conducted with sufficient style, evaluating them the way an aesthete would fine art. Lan Qiren had found the notion strangely sad, which Lao Nie had not understood and which he had never been able to explain, not even to himself.

“I would be more than happy to accompany my gracious host and provide whatever assistance I can,” Wen Ruohan said smoothly, causing a good three quarters of the room to exhale in relief at the realization that no wars would be starting today. “Lead the way, Sect Leader Jiang.”

Jiang Fengmian bowed a little and turned, with Jin Guangshan and Lan Qiren’s brother both stepping to the side to allow him to pass.

Lan Qiren glanced at them, wondering if he should go as well, but Wen Ruohan caught his eye and shook his head lightly in refusal. Lan Qiren inclined his head back and left him to follow Jiang Fengmian alone, although as they entered the pavilion Lao Nie turned and joined them – a little shameless of him, but then again he was notoriously shameless. Not to mention quixotic enough that no one would be able to guess whether he’d joined in order to be on Wen Ruohan’s side or against him.

Perhaps that was why Wen Ruohan hadn’t wanted Lan Qiren to come along. If he had, it would have given his brother the opportunity to do the same, and they knew that he wasn’t on their side.

Though, now that Lan Qiren thought about it, it was something of a surprise that Jin Guangshan hadn’t insisted on joining the interrogation himself. Wasn’t Wangdu Pei one of Lanling Jin’s subordinate sects…? Surely he would have a vested interest, and even if he didn’t care about his own subordinate sect, he certainly could have plausibly claimed to –

“I wouldn’t have expected such an unseemly display from you, Qiren.”

Lan Qiren stiffened when his brother came to stand next to him. “I am not sure I know what you mean.”

His brother hummed, though it was barely audible, the room having erupted into conversation once more, everyone rushing over to talk with their friends and allies and occasionally even enemies if they thought they might have something worth saying. Jin Guangshan in particular was standing at the center of a large circle of people, fielding questions with his usual slimy smile. Presumably that was a greater draw than the interrogation.

“Only that you have always seemed so detached from worldly pleasures. Who would think that once you were married, you would be shamelessly hanging all over another in public…” Lan Qiren stiffened in outrage, and his brother chuckled in a low voice. “Ah, but you are the expert on the rules! Naturally I don’t need to remind you. Though perhaps a refresher would be in order on Do not be promiscuous…”

“We are married,” Lan Qiren said through gritted teeth, instead of objecting the way he would like to the lurid mischaracterization of his actions, which were nowhere near to what his brother seemed to be implying. It was pointless, and would only make his brother laugh at him even more. “I am certain I do not need to remind you that it is a husband’s duty to ensure his wife is satisfied – ”

He choked at the sudden burst of pain in his abdomen, staggering back in surprise. He stared up at his brother in shock: had he just hit him?

His brother was looking down at him, unconcealed wrath twisting his features into something ugly. He stepped closer, lifting his hand once more…

There was a burst of laughter from the door, deep and compelling and distinctive, immediately identifiable to Lan Qiren despite how rarely he heard it. Everyone else seemed primarily confused, perhaps wondering who would be laughing at a time like this, and all together turned to stare at Wen Ruohan, who was leaning against the railing of the walkway next to the pavilion and laughing loudly with his head thrown back.

“No, no,” he said, lazily waving his hand at Jiang Fengmian. “Please go on! Tell me more! Yes, of course, when you put it that way, it couldn’t have been anyone but me, could it? Everyone knows that I am hot-headed and passionate, always the first one to act irrationally for the sake of…what was it again…”

“Love, I think,” Lao Nie drawled. He was visibly rolling his eyes.

“Oh, yes, of course. That.”

Lan Qiren would be amused by the sheer dripping disdain in Wen Ruohan’s voice – certainly it was doing an excellent job of getting the rest of the room to abruptly realize that they’d been too caught up in the moment to actually think about how unlikely it was that Wen Ruohan, of all people, would be sufficiently moved to action by an insult to Lan Qiren – but his brother had caught him by the wrist and was squeezing tightly enough that it felt as though his bones were grinding together.

“How very shameless you are, Qiren,” his brother hissed, and Lan Qiren had to bite his tongue to keep from making a sound of pain when he felt something give way in his arm. “Shameless and spoiled, with your so-inflexible righteousness scarcely hiding the rot of your hypocrisy. How many losses will your lover be willing to bear, do you think, before the cost of you begins to outweigh the benefit…?”

Lan Qiren stared at his brother, realizing what that must mean. “Do you mean you were the one who – ”

“I didn’t do it!” someone cried out, yet again drawing the attention of the gathered group to where the investigation was continuing. It was poor Sect Leader Xie, that little rabbit of a man that had promised his A-Yi the chance to attend Lan Qiren’s classes. “I mean – I know – I was there, yes, but I didn’t do it! I didn’t even see anything!”

“That’s a little implausible,” Lao Nie pointed out reasonably. He’d obviously stepped forward to be the lead investigator for the matter. “You’re saying a man was attacked only a few steps away from you and you missed it? Because you were, what, looking the wrong way?”

“But I was!”

Lan Qiren tore his arm away from his brother, mind working furiously to try to find a way out of the present crisis. His brother had all but admitted to him that he had been the one to orchestrate the framing, but no one else had been paying attention, and he was unlikely to be willing to admit it where anyone else could hear it.

His aim had undoubtedly been to create trouble for Wen Ruohan, and Lan Qiren could see how it would. Even if Wen Ruohan managed to deflect actual blame for the attack, as he was so ably doing, people would still associate the incident with him later, upon retelling, and the Wen sect was not yet so powerful that it could afford to ignore public opinion completely. It made sense, as a countermove: Lan Qiren had been flaunting Wen Ruohan’s power, so his brother attacked and diminished that power…

Worse – it would cost his brother nothing he deemed of value to cover up his own involvement.

Only a single small independent sect, not even a subsidiary, set up to be the perfect scapegoat.

And Wen Ruohan would take the bait and accept that conclusion, of course. Why wouldn’t he? Even if Lan Qiren could get to him in time to tell him who had actually committed the crime, having someone conveniently there to take the blame would minimize the harm that any rumors would do to the Wen sect’s standing or to Wen Ruohan’s own reputation. People would be more inclined to talk about who’d actually done the crime than who had been merely suspected of it, whereas if the culprit were not found, Wen Ruohan would remain the likeliest option. Forcing Sect Leader Xie to bear the blame instead, regardless of whether he was genuinely guilty or innocent, was the obvious next step – it made perfect logical sense, perfect political sense.

It was wrong, against all principles and morality, but since when did Wen Ruohan care about that?

“Lao Nie,” Wen Ruohan suddenly spoke, his powerful voice easily overriding Sect Leader Xie’s sobs. “Be careful. You are on the verge of insulting me.”

Lao Nie blinked, clearly taken aback by the unexpected interruption. “What? How’s that?”

“Sect Leader Jiang, our gracious host, has already said that he believed it was me at fault.” Wen Ruohan shrugged in a grandiose fashion and smirked. “And didn’t I already admit it? Turning around and accusing another like this…it’s almost as if you doubt my word.”

“Hanhan, you were being sarcastic.”

“Says who?” Wen Ruohan waved his hand. “You have as little evidence that it was him as you do that it was me. Anyway, Sect Leader Pei isn’t even dead. Just call it a friendly accident and let us move on – surely we have better things to do. We haven’t even had lunch.”

Lao Nie protested, but Jiang Fengmian was already nodding in agreement, clearly all too happy to wash his hands of the entire incident, and there were fervent murmurs of agreement already rippling through the crowd. It seemed that all of them had had enough excitement for the day.

Sect Leader Xie even stopped crying, seemingly realizing that he was being spared. He looked poleaxed, as if he didn’t understand exactly what was happening but nonetheless overwhelmingly grateful for the unexpected reprieve.

For his part, Lan Qiren stared at Wen Ruohan, wondering what in the world had gotten into him.

There was no benefit to Wen Ruohan in speaking up to spare Sect Leader Xie, nothing at all; it was pure loss for him, for both him personally and his sect more generally. A small loss, to be sure, but a loss nonetheless, and a loss that could be laid squarely at Lan Qiren’s feet – moreover, it was a loss Wen Ruohan could have reduced to almost nothing, effortlessly, and yet chose not to. Why…?

Wen Ruohan turned and caught Lan Qiren’s gaze from across the room. His cold smirk widened, very briefly, into a smile, and he winked, startling Lan Qiren and making him stare even more blatantly. And then, once he was sure he had Lan Qiren’s attention, Wen Ruohan once again inclined his head and very subtly spread his hands out beside him in the most minute of gestures – the same gesture he had made earlier, a silent bow, smug, like a performer having done a trick he thought the audience would like.

He’d done it…for Lan Qiren?

Not for his own benefit, not for any calculation, but rather just…just to please him.

Because he’d noticed Lan Qiren’s distress at the wrong person carrying the blame for something they did not do. Because even if Wen Ruohan didn’t care about what was good and what was right and certainly not about someone as irrelevant as Sect Leader Xie, Lan Qiren did.

And Wen Ruohan, it appeared, cared about that.

…oh, Lan Qiren thought, unsure of why his stomach suddenly felt beset by butterflies, a strange anxiety he hadn’t felt even when his brother had been threatening him – and then abruptly not unsure at all. Oh, no.

He knew exactly why he felt the way he did.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #sect leader nie #qingheng-jun #my fic #my fics #Megafic #:D #happy over 100k everyone

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hanguangbuns · 2 years

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something something the way lan wangji dealt with the loss of his fated person in comparison to his father

we know that ever since qingheng-jun married madam lan, he lived away from her in a separate home as “punishment”, and when she died, he went into indefinite seclusion

what was the consequence of this? well since qingheng-jun was officially the clan leader, his brother, lan qiren, had to step up and take over his duties for him, and became interim clan leader for many years. we also don’t really know what qingheng-jun was doing during his years of seclusion. reflection? meditation? improving his cultivation? all three? what i notice about the mdzs universe is that mxtx doesnt give us a lot of information about what characters do during seclusion, if its any different from her other stories at all. what we do know from other stories in the genre, is that generally, a cultivator in seclution/secluded meditation is their most vulnerable. ie, if their time during seclusion was somehow interrupted, it could pose a great threat to their livelihood. i think this is one reason how qingheng-jun “easily” died when the cloud recesses was beseiged—he was forced to come out of secluded mediation, at the expense of his golden core, and his cultivation. (though the details of the seige itself is unclear as well—mxtx seems to love leaving out details in her work. well i’m completely fine with that!)

we also dont really know how much he interacted with his sons, or how his relationship was like with them, but since he went into seclusion when lan wangji was around six, it’s reasonable to assume that he is not much of a strong influence in their lives. from the moment they were born, lan qiren raised them instead, and sought to shape them into the perfect gentlemen, and ideal members of the clan. to avoid the mistakes of their father, and avoid falling to his same fate. but ive always wondered just what the two twins of jade thought of their father. we know they loved their mom, but what they feel to their father? is it indifference? respect? we dont know for surr. but one clue we’re given is in the xuanwu cave, where lan wangji lays it all out to wei ying what happened to his home, and what is happening to his father. he is angry, he is frustrated, and he is upset. he cries—for his father? or from the sheer frustration? we just know that he is feeling overwhelmed and upset. lan wangji may or may not feel any strong love towards his father, but it’s just father nonetheless, and it’s his brother, his family, his home too.

after taking wei ying away from nightless city, lan wangji makes the resolution to protect wei ying and be by his side. he defies his 33 elders and fights them in order to protect wei ying, resolutely telling his uncle that he wasnt sure if wei ying was right or wrong, but no matter what he will be by his side. already, one could say it is a stark difference from qingheng-jun and madam lan’s situation, where although qingheng-jun married his wife to protect her, he still believed himself to need to atone for what he’s done.

when wei ying died, lan wangji had also went into “seclusion”, though we learn that its not necessarily because he wanted to, but because he was recovering from his punishment instead. rather, “seclusion” is the excuse the lan clan gives to the cultivation world for lan wangji’s wherabouts, to protect him. when he recovers, he leaves seclusion after three years, and instead works hard to be a teacher, a mentor, a brother, a nephew, the second jade of lan… to be hanguang-jun. though he earned his title years before, during the sunshot campaign, he does his best to live up to it. he is praised by the world to be wherever the chaos is, helping people not for glory or money or power but because it’s the right thing to do, no matter how trivial the task may be. he steps up, he pursues trivial matters, he helps his brother, he avoids the politics of the jianghu, and teaches with a certain kindness and trust that instills in the younger generation to instinctively admire him, and ask him for help when they need it. he is hanguang-jun and he certainly earned it.

later, when wei ying comes back to the world, he does his best to protect him, but he never does anything wei ying doesnt want. he never forces himself on wei ying, and never expects his love to be returned. it is unknown how madam lan felt about qingheng-jun—what we know is only word-of-mouth, and from what lan xichen said, its rumored that she didn’t love him, and the gentian cottage was more like her place of imprisonment. though we cant say for sure, we can see how different it is from wangxian’s relationship—lan wangji never wishes to tie wei ying down to any one place, they travel together, and stick together. (though lan wangji seems to never want wei ying to leave his sight, it seems to come from a place of concern for his safety. cue shenanigans of wei ying trying to run away multiple times throughout their journey, and lan wangji dragging him back by his collar. y’all can interpret that how you like). when it is revealed that he knew he was wei ying the whole time, well ying doesnt seem to try to run away anymore. (now that i think about it… i think lan wangji reveals this when he is assured that wei ying won’t try to run away… since it’s when wei ying comes back to him after his encounter with jiang cheng, jin ling, and the curse mark he transferred to himself).

my takeaway here is this—both lan wangji and his father dealt with the loss of their fated person very differently, and as a result came out very different men. qungheng-jun lived out the rest of his life in seclusion, and died in a seige against his family. lan wangji, hanguang-jun, on the other hand, had instead decided to dedicate his life to help the common people. without taking any payment, he would move on from the loss and continue to go wherever the chaos is. he became a beloved mentor and teacher, and became a morally ideal, highly refined gentleman.

in the end, between qingheng-jun and hanguang-jun, only one was eventually rewarded

#mdzs #lan wangji #wangxian #wei wuxian #qingheng-jun #mxtx #madam lan

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kimboo-york · 2 years

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LQR is the father

What if LQR is actually the father of the twin jades?

Would it have been that Madam Lan cuckolded Qingheng-Jun, who genuinely believed the boys are his?

Or maybe Qingheng-Jun knows full well that Madam Lan was never his, and after saving her life just expects her to live without love same as him. Then he watches from seclusion as his wife and his brother slowly fall in love but unable to do anything, not even revenge, without risking her life. Who does he hate more?

#MDZS #CQL #Lan Qiren #Qingheng-Jun #never seen this in a fic #if you have let me know!

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xluna-reclipse · 2 years

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Ghost in the heart 1

Ghost in the heart[1]

Meng Yao was silent, not because of fear, but because his heart was beating fiercely, trying to decide whether to face Jin Zixun alone, or risk being discovered by Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen raised his eyebrows suspiciously, released his hand, kept a distance from Meng Yao, and asked politely, “Are you really his girlfriend?”

Meng Yao bit his glistening red lips and made a choice immediately. He raised his slap-sized face, looked at Lan Xichen with big watery eyes, and said pitifully, “Da-gege, I’m not his girlfriend. Please save me. Don’t let him take me away.”

Of course, to add a pair of cat ears, you had to add an extra 3,000 to the introductory fee.

Chapter 1

Meng Yao, that night, wore a tight, skimpy, black leather sling dress, put on golden colored contacts, and donned a fluffy wig. He used make-up to make his slap-sized face even smaller and his chin more pointed. At the special request of Eldest Young Master Jin, he also wore a pair of cat ears to masquerade as a “little wild cat”.

Here, he was a commodity, clearly priced from head to toe.

The cold wind of the air conditioner blew steadily. Meng Yao was forced into a one-armed embrace by his own cousin. Jin Zixun aggressively slung his arm around Meng Yao’s shoulders. To reduce the amount of contact he had with Jin Zixun, he raised his shoulders like a small bird. He held the microphone and sang sweetly with a well-trained voice:

“Although hundreds of flowers have bloomed, don’t pick the wildflowers on the roadside, remember my feelings, remember my love, remember there is me waiting every day. I am waiting for you to return. Please don’t forget me.”

In her early years, Meng Shi was the queen of love songs in the nightclub. Meng Yao watched her closely since he was a child and studied all the different methods of voice control. After all those years, he was able to flawlessly switch between keys and even in conversation could mimic and maintain a higher octave.

Relying on this oily sweet sound, he wasn’t at any disadvantage wading amongst the cloudy waters of the rivers and lakes[2].

Men, whether they were working class or billionaires, all had surprisingly consistent tastes. They all loved the wildflowers on the roadside.

At first Meng Yao couldn’t let go and was often disgusted by his own voice to the point of goosebumps rising all over his body. With the passage of time, now he could completely separate the identity of “Venus” and “Meng Yao”, whining and pouting, acting spoiled and coquettish without any psychological burden.

In the face of reality, integrity and the illusion of a bottom line were old practice books filled with poor scribbles. Even dignity was just a commodity. If you decided to sell it, just sell it, don’t stress about it.

Right now, he was just “Venus” of the nightclub Olympus, there was nothing to be ashamed of.

The light in the box was dim, filled with the choking smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol, as well as the fragrance of men and women. These scents mixed together, combined, and rushed into Meng Yao’s nose, making him nauseated.

After Venus sang a song, it was changed to Athena. Athena grabbed the microphone. Her phoenix eyes swept over to Venus, full of provocation.

Eldest Young Master Jin had a lot of money and tonight he ordered all five of the top princesses of Olympus in one breath. The five goddesses were lined up on the leather sofa, radiating beauty, giving the eldest son of Jin a lot of face.

The Eldest Young Master Jin and his friends added up to exactly five. Five people sat in a row to eat fruit and each person claimed a princess. The eldest son of Jin had the greatest rank and most money, so of course he chose first. However instead of choosing Athena who ranked first on the Olympus Hot List, he chose Venus, who was ranked second. This made Athena jealous, and she looked at Venus with a bad complexion.

Venus didn’t care about Athena’s tantrum. He was well aware of the intentions of Eldest Young Master Jin. Athena wasn’t chosen because she’d already been conquered by Eldest Young Master Jin for a while now. The eldest young master simply did not think she was fresh anymore. Venus had never appeared on the scene[3]. Eldest Young Master Jin wanted to be the first person to taste him and win bragging rights.

Athena danced and sang like a water snake, waist twisting wildly, raising the lively atmosphere to the sky. Eldest Young Master Jin was drunk. His impertinent hand planted itself on Venus’ thigh, occasionally squeezing. He cheerily took out a cigar. Venus immediately picked up a lighter and lit it.

Eldest Young Master Jin inhaled deeply, turned his head and blew the smoke directly into Venus’ kitten face. Venus lowered his head and coughed twice, then raised his head again with a sweet smile on his face.

Eldest Young Master Jin poked the little vortex on Venus’ cheek with his little finger and asked casually, “How old are you this year?”

“Twenty.” Venus gave a false age.

In fact, he just turned eighteen this year and only entered university last month. In order not to reveal his identity, Sisi made him a fake ID card listing his age at twenty.

“Quite young,” Eldest Young Master Jin said, with a full smile on his face. “Have you gone to college?”

“Yes,” Venus said sweetly, “a junior this year.”

“Which school are you at?”

“Aiyo! Young Master Jin, don’t ask any more!” Venus raised a small fist and smacked Jin Zixun’s chest. “Don’t expose me! I still want face[4]!”

Many of the princesses working in Olympus were female college students from art schools. Because they couldn’t stand the temptation of money and went out to sea[5] most of them didn’t want to be known by their true identities. No matter whether you appeared on the stage[6], or not, being a princess[7] was just being a princess and it was a stain that could not be washed away.

“You came to sell yourself, what kind of face do you want?” Jin Zixun patted Venus’ cheek with a look of disdain.

Fortunately, he knew the rules and did not continue to ask about Venus’ identity which relieved Meng Yao.

Venus just smiled and chatted with Eldest Young Master Jin, accompanying him to play dice and drink wine. Colorful lights danced across “her” face, like paint from an overturned palette, colors mixing into a mess, just like his life.

Jin Zixun played for a while when a call suddenly came. Jin Zixun got up and went out to answer the phone.

Venus’ patience had reached the limit, and he used the pretext of going to the bathroom to slip out of the smoky box.

At the same time, 20-year-old Lan Xichen was in the box next door. Beside him sat a gorgeous girl with heavy makeup and big wavy hair. She couldn’t resist stealing secret glances at him.

Lan Xichen didn’t know her, only heard that she was a popular movie star who had just won an international film festival. Although Lan Xichen had never heard of this film festival, he still politely expressed his congratulations.

Wen Ruohan, the chief executive of Qishan Group sat in the main seat with a cigar in his mouth, smiling at Lan Qingheng next to him.

“Qingheng, I envy you very much. You have a good son like Xichen, not like the two prodigal sons in my family. In addition to eating, drinking, and having fun all day, they keep[8] female stars. I don’t know how much of my hair had turned white because of them.”

Lan Qingheng lifted a cup of Mingqian Longjing tea and took a sip, saying modestly, “Everyone else’s sons look good. Xichen also has Xichen’s faults, and I am also very worried. This child is too unsocial and awkward. Without the ability to socialize and entertain, it will be difficult to gain a foothold in the market in the future.”

He glanced at Lan Xichen, smiled and joked, “Look, it’s been so long since he came in and he’s still sitting on pins and needles.”

“He’s only in his third year, how can he compare with us old fritters?” Wen Ruohan looked at Lan Xichen with admiration, “I saw your latest award-winning architectural work. It’s very good. I have a hunch that an international master architect is on the rise.”

“Thank you, Uncle Wen, for your affirmation. Master architect is too much, I don’t dare. I will just continue to do my best,” Lan Xichen said politely.

He suddenly felt a touch on his ankle. He knew that the female star next to him was rubbing his leg with her foot. Lan Xichen had a habit of cleanliness and didn’t like physical touch with strangers. He suppressed his inner disgust, pretended to adjust his tie, stepped aside, and sat down in a different seat.

He really didn’t like socializing. He didn’t smoke nor drink. Which was an abnormality in the business world. Lan Qingheng felt that this character of his was not conducive to take over the Yunshen Group. Recently, he often took him to various functions. Lan Xichen believed that in this era, the old-fashioned liquor-based social gathering method of business was no longer in line with the trend, and the core of competitiveness between enterprises in the future was technology and innovation.

Although he had his own set of ideas, he did not go against his father’s wishes and obediently participated in various wine parties. It was not good for him to be a rebellious child. It was better to follow the wind so that they could both live in harmony.

Wen Ruohan and Lan Qingheng quickly shifted the topic from their children to health preservation. Lan Xichen had a sensitive sense of smell and couldn’t stand the stench of cigar smoke, so he left the box on the pretext of going to the bathroom and took the opportunity to go out to breathe.

Venus—No—Meng Yao sat on the toilet lid in the men’s room and whispered on the phone, “Si-jie, Young Master Jin’s intention is very strong, I’m afraid he will come hard.”

“What?” Sisi’s voice on the other end of the phone rose, she said sternly, “He dares! He doesn’t even look at whose territory this is? What are you doing? I’ll call Zhao-ge and have him protect you.”

“Okay,” Meng Yao hung up the phone and felt more at ease.

He was a little regretful, why wasn’t Sisi his mother? His own mother was very weak. Even when a shrew pointed at her nose and scolded her with “bitch,” she didn’t dare to retaliate. But his real mother was his real mother, and he couldn’t bear to watch her die.

There was a sound of rustling footsteps. Meng Yao hurriedly retracted his feet in high heels so that no one would know he was in the men’s toilet.

“Pfff!”

It sounded like a champagne bottle opening.

Who would run to the men’s bathroom to pop champagne?

Meng Yao was puzzled.

“Zixun, isn’t this too much? It’s ok for us to get high ourselves. If you get her high, won’t she report us?”

“Don’t worry, she won’t dare. If she reports us, she will be exposed as a princess and be expelled from school. That little hoof[9] needs to be cleaned up. I have to take her down today.”

Meng Yao broke into a cold sweat when he heard their conversation. Jin Zixun was actually a drug addict in private and tried to pull him into the water. He was even more scummy than his father. He could be considered a champion amongst trash.

Meng Yao didn’t dare to make a sound and quietly waited until Jin Zixun and his companions finished their work and left the men’s restroom. After waiting another ten minutes, he took off his high heels and walked out of the bathroom lightly with bare feet.

As soon as he went out, he found that Jin Zixun was waiting for him at the door.

Jin Zixun handed the opened champagne bottle to the attendant, sniffed at Meng Yao and asked triumphantly, “Don’t you think it’s strange how I found out you were there?”

Meng Yao did not answer.

Jin Zixun spoke to himself again, “I recognized the scent of the perfume on your body.”

Meng Yao rolled his eyes and without saying a word, slammed the high-heeled shoes onto Jin Zixun’s face, then turned his head and ran away.

Jin Zixun didn’t expect this thin girl to be so vicious. He yelled. His eyes turned red. He looked at his face in the mirror above the sink and saw a long bloody cut on his forehead from the sharp heel.

“Fuck! Bitch!” Jin Zixun became furious, cursing and chasing after Meng Yao.

“Save me! Save me!” Meng Yao shouted and ran wildly down the red-carpeted corridor, but the soundproofing of the nightclub was so good that his voice could not reach inside the boxes flanking the hall.

No. He must not be caught by Jin Zixun. If he forcibly poured that bottle of champagne down Meng Yao’s throat, Meng Yao would never be able to turn over a new leaf in this life!

“Bitch! Stop!”

The corridor seemed to have no end. Meng Yao glanced sideways. Jin Zixun’s grim face was close at hand.

Not paying attention, Meng Yao slammed into a thick wall, the refreshing aroma of sandalwood filled his nose, a pair of warm hands grabbed his thin arms. Meng Yao raised his head and saw a handsome face. As if he’d seen a ghost, Meng Yao lowered his head in fright, the fluffy wig pressing against the other person’s chin.

He bumped into Lan Xichen, the president of the student union of Qinghe University, a man from his school.

Meng Yao had only entered university for a month. He just squeezed into the secretariat of the student union yesterday, thinking about how to make a good impression on the president and pave the way for a scholarship. He didn’t expect to meet in advance at such a place and his courage was almost broken.

Meng Yao didn’t have much time to think about it before Jin Zixun and his valet also arrived.

Jin Zixun clutched his blood-drenched forehead, stunned for a moment at the sight of Lan Xichen, then immediately smiled.

“Xichen, you’re here too.”

Maybe he didn’t come back to his senses yet, Lan Xichen didn’t let go of Meng Yao’s hand. He lowered his gaze and saw a small, round ear, with a little red mole on the back, showing through the scattered hair.

Lan Xichen raised his eyes slowly and asked, “Zixun, what’s wrong?”

Jin Zixun casually said, “It’s nothing. I just had a little spat with my girlfriend.”

He grabbed Meng Yao’s wrist and said softly, “Athena, don’t be angry. It’s all my fault darling. Come with me and listen to my explanation, okay?”

Meng Yao was silent, not because of fear, but because his heart was beating fiercely, trying to decide whether to face Jin Zixun alone, or risk being discovered by Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen raised his eyebrows suspiciously, released his hand, kept a distance from Meng Yao, and asked politely, “Are you really his girlfriend?”

“Athena, stop making trouble, okay?” Jin Zixun’s smile was strained and the strength in his hands increased, dragging Meng Yao backwards.

Meng Yao’s heart sank. He stretched out his hand and grabbed Lan Xichen’s tie, squeezed out two strings of tears and choked, “Da-gege, save me. I’m scared.”

Lan Xichen was a relatively cold-blooded person. Using another term, he was a “refined egoist”. He had no noble sentiment of being righteous and courageous. In other words, he was not prone to putting his nose in the business of others.

The situation between Jin Zixun and this beautiful woman was not simple. He was not close with Jin Zixun and the most appropriate response at this time was not to intervene. But for some reason, he couldn’t refuse this small crying kitten face.

“Zixun, you should respect the lady’s wishes.”

Unexpectedly, Lan Xichen grabbed the little white hand holding his tie and, with a force that could not be rejected, pulled the little wild cat into his arms.

[1] Alternately: Obsession

[2] Society, the world, jianghu

[3] Sold his body

[4] His reputation

[5] Go out to work; in this case, sell their companionship

[6] Sex work

[7] Cabaret girl, hostess, person paid to drink, play, sing, dance, entertain and cuddle with customers

[8] As concubines/mistresses

[9] Colloquial term for young woman

#Xiyao #Translation #fanfic #Jin Guangyao #Lan Xichen #Jin Zixun #Qingheng-jun #Wen Ruohan #ModernAU #Meng Yao in dresses #Hidden Identity #The Untamed #Mo Dao Zu Shi #Host Club #Maid Cafe #Ghost in the heart

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