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rosethornewrites · 3 years

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Fic: a grain of millet drifting, ch. 1

Relationship: Niè Huáisāng & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Original Characters, Nie Huaisang

Additional Tags: Assassination Attempt(s), Introspection, Regret, Travel, Post-Canon, POV Third Person, POV Wei WuXian

Summary: Wei Wuxian wanders after parting from Lan Wangji, looking to understand the changes in the world since his death, seeking to understand his place in it. He doesn't realize he's being watched. Frankencanon, so this has a liberal mixture of CQL and MDZS.

Notes: See end.

AO3 link

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Wei Wuxian hadn’t lied to Lan Zhan after their brief confrontation with Nie Huaisang in Cloud Recesses, not exactly.

Knowing why he’d been brought back, whether somehow his old friend had chosen him specifically for his own reasons, or if that had been entirely Mo Xuanyu’s call, wouldn’t change anything.

And part of him didn’t want confirmation of how much Nie Huaisang had meddled with along the way.

So much had been broken, so many people lost, and a part of him wanted to believe the façade that the indolent Nie Huaisang he had known during their days in the Cloud Recesses still existed.

But once he’d left Lan Zhan and set off on his travels with Little Apple, once he started getting used to being alive again, to having even the tiny wisp of a jindan, barely beyond zhuji, that Mo Xuanyu had gifted him, something he could build on, something other than the gaping hole that had ultimately consumed him, he’d had to face some truths.

He had no family, no home. He didn’t know if Jiang Cheng would ever want anything to do with him, and he wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. As much as he would always love Lotus Pier, he didn’t know that it had ever really been his home.

In some ways, his leaving had been inevitable. Despite being head disciple, he’d never been welcome. And the fall of Lotus Pier would forever be his fault, the ghosts of his own doing. He’d never regret protecting Mianmian and Lan Zhan, but he would always regret the massacre that had followed.

Even if he’d technically been absolved of the death of Jin Zixuan and the bloodbath of Nightless City and shijie’s death, his actions had still led to them.

Wei Wuxian spent long, sleepless nights under the stars and listening to Little Apple snore outrageously coming to the understanding that he’d left the Burial Mounds with his sanity shredded. The war and continued use of resentful energy without a jindan had only worsened it. He’d raised the dead, the ancestors of their enemy, defiling their bodies to win the war, and he’d earned a dark and deviant reputation in doing so.

After the war, he’d taken to drinking to dull it all, and doing so had destabilized his mind further. He was sensitive about his inability to cultivate, but couldn’t explain why. Surrounded by people who wanted him to do what he could not, he had spiraled.

Really, by the time he’d saved the Dafan Wen temporarily from their fate and gone back to attempt to live in the Burial Mounds, he’d been hanging by a thread. Wen Qing had bullied him into taking care of himself, for the most part, but he’d spent more days than he could count in the Demon Slaughtering Cave capable of little more than opening his eyes, what little energy he had dedicated to keeping the Seal under control.

He remembered very little past Jiang Yanli’s death and waking up in the Burial Mounds with the remnants of the Wen who knew death was coming. The seal wanted more, another Nightless City. And he’d known he could absolutely destroy the Jianghu—but that the Seal wanted it gave him enough pause that he knew he needed to destroy it and end it all.

He’d managed to find a way, but the Siege happened just as he was ready. What little sanity he had left went toward an attempt to hide A-Yuan—maybe the one good thing he had managed. And then, as the aunties and uncles and popo were massacred around him, he could only focus on destroying the seal.

Dying in the way that he had, ripped to shreds by corpses, had been agonizing, though the benefit of Jiang Cheng stabbing him had meant he’d died faster. He didn’t know if his shidi had meant it to be a kindness, but ultimately it had lessened his suffering before he died. It was likely a better death than anyone else would have given him.

But Jin Guangyao had been right: even before he’d absconded with the Wen remnants, his actions during the war, his temper and frayed sanity, his rages, his desecration of the dead… All of it had painted a target on him.

No, he’d painted it on himself with blood.

Wei Wuxian had come back in a body not tainted by the resentful energy that had burrowed its way into his bones before his death, despite it being his old one free of scars and birth marks, his sanity somehow restored, and was able to see his own self-destruction and how he had made that the only path he could walk through his own trauma-fueled hubris.

Maybe those years dead had done something to heal whatever damage he had inflicted on his own soul, as well. He remembered nothing of that time, and waking up in a body had been like opening his eyes after a long sleep. He’d known he’d been dead, had known time had passed, though not how much at first. Everything that had occurred leading to his death felt so immediate, particularly shijie’s death and the knowledge he’d left A-Yuan hiding but didn’t know if he’d survived.

The relief he felt that he had at least saved one person couldn’t be quantified.

Part of the journey was trying to find where he fit into the world now, but most of it was reflection and coming to terms with the reality that now existed.

He’d steered away from larger cities, opting to travel smaller roads to villages off the beaten path. Many, it seemed, had problems with restless spirits and the like—the occasional yao, even. He took care of what he could, and drafted letters to Lan Zhan when it was something that required more than he was currently capable of.

Perhaps that was something he’d learned—to rely on others and not try to fix everything himself. He could probably handle it all, but there were costs of using resentful energy too much, and in this life he didn’t particularly want to pay them.

So he communicated with the odd hungry ghost, used talismans to take down roaming fierce corpses, and handled the smaller yao that he could handle with the jindan he had, using these night hunts to help develop it further, hoping one day he could retrieve Suibian from Jiang Cheng and be able to wield the blade again—assuming his once-brother would let him have the sword.

Everything beyond, that would require more spiritual energy than he had or more resentful energy than he was comfortable using, he sent to Lan Zhan so the local cultivation sect could be alerted. He dared not send them a letter himself; people still had strong feelings about the return of the Yiling Patriarch, and it was just as likely he’d be blamed for the problem as anything.

The rural route he took left him able to travel in anonymity as a rogue cultivator, offering essentially any name but his own. Thanks to the ugly Yiling Patriarch talismans, the common folk didn’t know what he looked like. Most often, he went by Wei Yuandao, reminded of Mianmian’s happiness at seeing him when he did, that there were people in the world who didn’t hate or fear him. The villagers didn’t know him, were grateful for his help, whether in setting a spirit to rest or helping with odd jobs in exchange for a meal and a place to sleep by a hearth.

Much of the time, though, he slept beneath a blanket of stars.

One night like that, he heard the sounds of a scuffle and rushed to see what was going on. He expected to need to fight off a bandit, but instead he found a man in Nie colors running through a man dressed head to toe in black, face masked.

As he stood gaping, the Nie disciple bowed to him.

“Wei-gongzi.”

That confirmed a suspicion, and the logic of the situation ran through his mind at the speed of light. The courtesy, the Nie colors, what was clearly a would-be assassin’s body at his feet. Finally, Wei Wuxian sighed.

“How many assassins?”

The young man smiled.

“Five in as many weeks. You are as smart as Nie-zongzhu said.”

Wei Wuxian snorted at that.

“Not if I didn’t realize assassins were being sent after me. I’m guessing Nie-xiong knew they’d be hired and sent you to protect me in secret?”

He’d honestly thought he was being left alone by the cultivation world, especially since he wasn’t causing any trouble. How very naïve.

The man nodded curtly, then bent to rifle through the corpse’s clothing, looking for clues and stripping it of valuables, every bit a Nie.

“He wanted you to be able to travel without worry.”

Ah, Nie-xiong…

Perhaps Nie Huaisang was used to working from the shadows and had an agenda, or perhaps he truly just wanted Wei Wuxian to be undisturbed. Whatever his reasons for the secrecy, with this that ship had sailed.

But Wei Wuxian had no idea why Nie Huaisang would bother, not after he threatened him at the Cloud Recesses. Implied threat, but still—he’d expected that would burn a bridge. Not… this.

“I suppose I’m overdue for a visit to the Unclean Realm,” he said after thinking it over. “You may as well travel with me openly, unless Nie-xiong would prefer you watch over me in secret?”

Despite the protection he’d sent, Wei Wuxian didn’t know if he wanted the Nie clan officially associated with the Yiling Patriarch.

“Sect Leader was not specific about this eventuality. Traveling together openly may deter assassins, though it is easier to catch them off guard if they believe you unprotected.”

Ah, so Nie Huaisang didn’t care. Wei Wuxian waved off the concern. Now that he knew the threat, it was easily dealt with.

“I can set talisman traps around the campsite. Probably should have done that to begin with.”

But he’d been trying to have faith in the cultivation world, he didn’t say. Once again, misplaced faith and he should’ve known better.

“At least that way you can get real sleep as we travel to meet with Nie-zongzhu.”

They were a week of travel from the Unclean Realm, and he supposed he’d get answers to questions he hadn’t known he had then.

He headed back to his campsite, happy to see his Nie protector was following, and set a gourd of water near the fire to heat and pulled out some tea.

“In the meantime, we can talk about these assassins, eh? We’ll bury the body in the morning.”

It’d been over a decade since he’d last dug a grave, and it wasn’t to bury a body, but he was sure he could manage with the Nie’s help.

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Zhuji is the foundation building stage of cultivation, the stage before forming the jindan/golden core. Basically, Wei Wuxian is saying Mo Xuanyu was barely into the stage of forming a golden core, so it’s barely a wisp, but is still something that has the foundations built for him.

This fic was… unexpected. I wanted to write something for Nie Huaisang’s birthday, kind of a reconciliation between him and Wei Wuxian, and this happened. It will likely be no more than three chapters.

The title is a reference to a translation of a Su Shi poem, “First Ode on the Red Cliffs,” which was written after his first exile (he was exiled twice, both times for his poetry), while he wandered. There are several translations floating around, but I liked the wording of this one.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #chen qing ling #cql #mdzs #wei wuxian #wei ying #nie huaisang #untamed fanfiction #untamed fanfic #untamed fic #cql fanfic #cql fanfiction #cql fic #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #mdzs fic #my fanfiction

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gingersnapwolves · 3 years

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Follow up fic-related post to my Untamed primer, for those who specifically read this whole thing in order to be able to read my fanfiction! Firstly, I’m flattered. Y’all are amazing. Secondly, here’s a handy dandy list of my fics that might help you get started. (There’s tons and tons of great fanfics in this fandom, though, so you should explore if you feel so inclined!)

First of all, um, I feel compelled to write a disclaimer about all my Xiyao fic lmao. Writing the last two sections of this I was like ‘ugh, Jin Guangyao is the worst’ but like ... he wasn’t always? It feels weird to say, but I ship Lan Xichen with Meng Yao but not Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao. Meng Yao was genuinely treated very poorly all his life and had legitimate reasons to be bitter and resentful, but he didn’t turn into a monster until after his father got a hold of him. I know that not everybody will agree with that! But I just want to say, after writing those last two chunks I wanted to clarify, yes, I write a ton of Xiyao, but it is all based around the idea that although Meng Yao is morally ambiguous and can absolutely be ruthless when necessary, with actual love and support he wouldn’t end up being so terrible, and I love the idea of turning all that conniving cleverness for good instead of evil.

Anyway, moving on!

I’ve written two fanfics that are complete AU, fusions with other media. These might help you get used to reading in the fandom without worrying about all the plot nuances and politics and such.

Like a House on Fire – loose fusion with 9-1-1, characters as first responders, Wangxian and Xiyao

The Weight of the World – fusion with Pacific Rim, Wangxian and Xiyao

Here are the others, by canon divergence point. Worth pointing out, I have actually only written one fic that take place in the latter half of the show (in fact, it’s post canon). Although some of my fics have young Wen Yuan or Jin Ling in them, I don’t generally deal with the 16 year gap because it’s just too damn depressing for me. So sadly, I don’t really write about the juniors. The juniors are great! And I’m sure there are great fics about them! But I’m invested in fix-it fic, which means making sure that 16-year-gap doesn’t happen.

Also probably worth pointing out: the older the fics are, the more likely I was to make factual errors in them. Like in my first fic, I didn’t realize Meng Yao’s mother was dead, because it’s never explicitly mentioned, and in several of my earlier fics I got the pieces of yin iron confused all to hell and back lol. Be kind. XD

Canon diverges prior to or right at the beginning of the timeline:

An Atypical Courtship – Meng Yao becomes a prostitute after his mother dies. Additional bonus AU because Wen Ruohan isn’t evil and there’s no war because I didn’t feel like dealing with it. Mainly Xiyao, background Wangxian.

The Third Young Master of the Qishan Wen – Wei Wuxian is adopted by Wen Qing and Wen Ning’s family, instead of the Jiang sect. This might actually be a good one to start with as it covers almost the entire canon (pre-death canon) but just slightly to the left. Wangxian, Xiyao, Chengqing.

somewhere to belong (WIP!) – Meng Yao stays in Cloud Recesses for the lecture and makes friends. 3zun (the pairing name for Nie Mingjue/Lan Xichen/Meng Yao) and background Wangxian.

Canon diverges prior to the Sunshot Campaign:

hope dangling by a string – Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian end up psychically connected and it prevents a whole host of misunderstandings. Also covers a lot of canon but slightly to the left. Wangxian and Chengqing.

Canon diverges after the Sunshot Campaign:

No More Masks – Meng Yao isn’t legitimized and goes to live at Cloud Recesses after the war. If you want to know why I’m obsessed with Xiyao, this is the fic to read as it’s the one I wrote to specifically indulge. Mainly Xiyao, some Meng Yao/Xue Yang, background Wangxian.

Aftermath – Jiang Yanli kills Jin Guangshan in self defense when he tries to assault her. Without him around after the Sunshot Campaign, everything goes much better. Mostly focuses on the sibling relationships, but also has Xuanli, Wangxian, and a little light Xiyao and Chengqing.

The Lost Cause – Nie Huaisang and Jin Guangyao team up to murder Jin Guangshan. It’s more fun than it should be. Mainly gen, background Wangxian.

the cycle of regret – Lan Wangji gets stuck in a groundhog day loop of trying to save Wei Wuxian just before his death. Wangxian only.

Canon diverges after Wei Wuxian’s death:

picking up the pieces (WIP!) – Jiang Cheng is killed at the massacre of Nightless City instead of Jiang Yanli. She then convinces Lan Wangji to come live with her at Lotus Pier and raise their kids together. Actually fairly gen, Wangxian later.

The Way it Wasn’t – Jiang Cheng wishes that Wei Wuxian had never existed, only to find out that without him, they lost the war. Wangxian, Xiyao, Chengqing hints.

where do we begin (the rubble or our sins) – Wei Wuxian survives falling off the cliff, resurrects Jiang Yanli, and ends up with amnesia. Wangxian only.

Post canon:

the hardest part of ending (is starting again) – Wen Ning and Lan Xichen comfort each other after going through hell. Mainly gen, hints at future Ningchen, background Wangxian.

again, if you have any questions, either while reading the summaries or while reading any of my fics, feel free to ask me! <3

#the untamed #fic stuff

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ylizam · 4 years

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dear creator: femslashex 2k20 edition

Hi, Hello, Hey. First of all–thank you! This is my standard you offered to write one of my fandoms, so thank you for being awesome opening spiel, full of generals likes and dislikes, I’m sure you know the drill. I’ll make sure the fandom specific stuff is up by the time assignments go out. (That said, if you already have an idea about how you want to write about the fandom/pairing we match on—wow, I’m jealous! tell me your secrets!—just skip over the fandom stuff and go forth with your bad self.)

Things I like include, but are in no way limited to: fun with POV, fun with linear vs. non-linear storytelling, fun with tone, fun with writing. I really dig character studies, stories that really get into what makes a character tick (and something porny that can get at that is wonderful too), and I like relationships that are hard and prickly and worth fighting for. I like happy endings that don’t feel tacked on or forced. I like doubt, and hope, and theology; I like actors, and directors, and I like the random deity. I like fairy tales. I like (love) romance tropes. Forced to share a bed, marriages of convenience, fake dating, friends-to-lovers, idiots-to-lovers, enemies-to-lovers: it’s all like unto catnip. I like interesting turns of phrase, I like the perfect line, I like any story written just for me. If you have any questions about my taste (or lack thereof), feel free to ask @summervillen who probably knows my fannish tastes better than I do.

DNWs: noncon, necrophilia, pedophilia, incest, animal harm or death, child harm or death, pregnancy fic, A/B/O. Things that I would prefer you not include—especially gratuitously; there are obviously ways to engage with problematic actions/thoughts/etc. in fiction, but there’s such a fine line there—are as follows: non-character driven racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, anti-semitism, etc. etc. etc. I’d prefer no high school AUs. I also have a pretty big embarrassment squick. And while I'm mostly interested in these characters in the worlds in which we meet them, if you really have an AU (non high school division) you want to write I'm there. Just, you know, grounded in the characters and their relationships and all that fun stuff. That's basically it.

Babylon 5 Delenn/Susan Ivanova I just ship them post-canon so hard. Later in life chances at love are sort of a thing of mine, and add to that two of my favorite characters ever, well, it’s like this pairing is made for me. That said, if you can find a way to write them during canon (maybe John doesn’t return from Z'ha'dum, maybe Delenn and John just never get together at all, maybe you can think of something I can’t) I’d love that too. Delenn/Shaal Mayan I’d love a story about them that’s really Minbari–that understands that neither of them is human. Something set when they were young and just figuring themselves out (and first love is rarely forever but it feels like it must be) or something set when Mayan visits Babylon 5 in season one or, heck, something set after the series ends. (I have a thing for writing on skin, so if you can find a way to fit that in more power to you.)

Last Tango in Halifax Gillian Greenwood/Caroline McKenzie-Dawson Oh gosh I have so many feelings about Gillian and Caroline and their relationship. How it’s grown, changed, and now they’re at a point where they see each other all the time and talk about basically everything and it’s all so beautiful. And, I mean, come on, they both have the best chemistry with the other; it’s just a fact. So what if they get drunk and kiss (or shag or something in between)? Or just deal with things like adults (I’m sure you could convince me that’s possible)? (She wasn’t part of the tagset, but I also liked what little we saw of Olga, both how she interacted with Caroline and how she befriended Gillian when they both showed up late to the play, so if you want to go the threesome route–whether it’s a V or a triad or whatever confusing mess of emotions you prefer–I’m there.) (P.S. I haven’t seen the most recent season, but I’m spoiled and have seen all the gifs and screencaps so include or don’t as you see fit.)

Lucifer Linda Martin/Mazikeen

Their relationship on the show is a thing of delight and wonder, so basically I want that but also MORE. Maze fighting people to protect Linda! Linda, well, trying to fight people but mostly realizing that Maze loves it and is good at it so. Maze panicking again about Linda eventually dying, but also MORE SO because now they’ve been fucking and also having weird candlelight dinners and um is this romantic this might be. (Whether Amenadiel is involved (romantically with either or both, as an active parent but no longer romantically, etc.) or off doing something else stage left and never mentioned is up to you, but please no bashing, killing off somehow, etc.) Feel free to include hijinks with the rest of the gang, but I’d prefer no focus on any police work.

The Old Guard (Movie) Andy/Quynh

Note: I haven’t read the comics, so this is strictly a movie request (I know they’re separate fandoms and listed thusly, but I just wanted to be clear). I’d love anything about them, in all honesty. Something in the past: a first time (they kissed, they said “I love you,” they refused to say “I love you,” they had sex, etc.), a fifth time, a mission gone wrong. Or something in the present/future: angst and fractured trust and fighting on opposite sides until they’re suddenly not. All too mortal Andy. Immortal Quynh. The options are basically endless. I also love everyone on the team, so feel free to include them however you see fit.

Star Trek: Classic Timeline

First of all, I don’t know book canon, so include it, don’t include, whatever floats your proverbial boat. Second of all, I am more than happy with “this character lives” stories here. Obviously. Third of all, please no bashing of any other characters (even that one).

Beverly Crusher/Laris

So I came out of Picard with an undying devotion to Laris and a burning curiosity about what the heck Bev is up to these days. So tell me more about both of them. Is there’s a longstanding affair, often at a distance? Did they start out prickly and reserved, wary? How are Jean-Luc and Zhaban involved? (I am happy with whatever you decide on the Jean-Luc and Zhaban front, other than gratuitous death or bashing of either. Feel free to have them off having their own adventures and don’t mention them if you prefer not to involve them.) Is Beverly’s French as terrible as Jean-Luc’s?

Kimara Cretak/Kira Nerys

Feel free to have Kimara escape/live/etc. I’d especially love something that recognizes that neither of them is human; play around with what we know of their cultures, about how those cultures might clash or unexpectedly mesh, how that can affect a relationship both positively and negatively. I’m always interested in Nerys’s faith and religious beliefs, and how that interacts with Romulan culture would be very much something I enjoy.

K'Ehlyer/Deanna Troi

K’Ehlyer deserved better, and who is better than Deanna? I posit no one. This is another pairing where I’d love something about the fact that they’re not fully human and the implications thereof. (Feel free to include Alexander or not, as you choose. Ditto Thaddeus and Kestra. I’d prefer they not be a focal point though.) Whether you set it during TNG or Picard or in between, I’ll be equally happy (or an alternate version of reality works too! those are just the time references I can think of right now!). (Please note that I very much also ship Deanna and Will, so please, please, please don’t bash him or kill him off for no reason or have Deanna cheating on him or whatever. I’d much rather you don’t mention him at all if you don’t want him in the fic.)

The Untamed Jiang Yanli/Wen Qing

Is part of this my desire to have two of my favorite characters pushed together? Yes. Is it also part of my desire to have them actually live? Absolutely. (Which is to say: I’d love a “Jiang Yanli and Wen Qing live” AU here. Or at least live longer than they make it in canon?) I’d also be fine with modern AUs here, but I’d prefer cultivation be in there somewhere even if it’s set in the present (or the 1980s or basically any time period). Maybe there’s a political partnership of convenience situation! Maybe something shifts in canon and Jiang Yanli helps the Qishan Wens out and things happen and trust grows and they fall in love! Maybe they have a secret fling! Honestly, it’s all good.

#femslashex #femslash exchange #dear author letter #there will be more later #once i manage to write up the fandom specific parts #long post #(or it will be or it is idk)#the old guard #the untamed #lucifer #last tango in oh noooo #last tango in halifax #star trek: the next generation #star trek: picard #star trek: ds9 #stars trek #babylon 5

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wandering-bitch · 3 years

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Annotations on I Have Always Loved The Door (pt 3)

I Have Always Loved The Door is my Mianmian/Wen Qing fic about reconciling with your past, growing into yourself, and also Swords. Here’s director’s commentary on the last third of the fic, chapters 11-15!

chapter 11: hahaha everything’s getting worse

my notes in the outline said “fatal journey happens, we cried, u know”

look im still not 100% over fatal journey. nie brothers nie brothers nie brothers!!!!

just realized we referred to jgy as meng yao??? probably because this is around when i started writing Falling in Love with Love (Again) which takes place b4 sunshot

however i will say that nmj calls him meng yao bc he’s being petty

ah yes the next jgy scene!!! i struggled with how to write his thinly veiled threat so it was clear it was a threat while also being perfectly innocuous. I think i managed here

honestly in this universe jin guangyao is going to try to murder wen qing and mianmian is gonna have to spend so much time protecting her.

“huang daiyu and dinner! my two favorite things!” mianmian why are u such a lesbian

im very sorry about nie mingjue burning nie huaisang’s art but it did happen in the novel and i love how much it hurts

“[nmj] stepped into her space, hand on baxia. wen qing had been glared at and threatened by many men in her life. she had stopped cowing to them years ago” im a little proud of this. the mental image of nmj stepping so close he has to crane his neck down to see her, assuming she’d move back. and wen qing staying put and glaring at him just as grumpily from like. right below his nose

ch 12: swords swords swords.

mianmian’s pure joy at getting swords!!! my joy at writing swords!!!! people respecting mianmian!!!!

(mianmian Knows huang daiyu is a wen at this point bc she’s not a dang idiot, she knows whomst would fear their identity being leaked)

i casually said mianmian fucked jiang yanli for two reasons: one, because i’m just not interested in writing a character having a sexuality crisis and 2. because jiang yanli fucks.

say it with me kids: jiang yanli fucks.

i had such trouble figuring out what things the vice general of qinghe would need to do at this point haha

“i’m not a complete sword jock”

“if you’re going to call me jie i’m going to use that authority to tell u what to do” “and if i didn’t call u jie” “then i’d use my authority as ur doctor”

ch 13: makin a choice 2 stay

this is around when i lost major steam writing this. i knew some of the things i wanted to touch on (the memorial banquet, a cute date, the reveal tm) but not the shape of the ending

however, writing the banquet scene helped me figure out part of it: wen qing finding that qinghe can be a place she belongs, even if she has to leave. ma lingzxin and xiang tengfei deciding “this is our doctor and if anything happened to her we would kill everyone in this room”

(honestly they join mianmian’s “keep jgy’s schemes away from the infirmary” team)

Mianmian Wants To Kiss Huang Daiyu

ch 14 final date <3 <3 <3 <3

sword content. look every time someone commented that they liked the sword content i became more powerful. i don’t think of myself as swayed by readers (for instance i did not change anything about nmj dying even tho ppl kept hoping and praying) but i AM easily swayed to add sword content

(im including unarmed content as sword content for the purpose of Emotional Sword Content)

im so incredibly fucking gay over the idea of owning a part of someone’s spiritual swords. like. i gotta get me a girl who will give me a part of her own swords.

again, youya means shoot/sprout and tuzai means slaughter. hence the visions.

ch 15 hey look it’s what we’ve been waiting for!!!

i don’t know i don’t know i really don’t know

nie huaisang would 100% have destroyed wen qing if she told him she didn’t use any cultivation to help nmj

BABIES

i don’t know much about the midwife but i do know they’re about 85 years old, spry as hell, grey as hell, and grumpy as hell. but their hands are always soft and gentle and they tell u exactly what they’re going to do.

“he was bright red even after being wiped down and his face was more wrinkle than child” im not saying i based this on descriptions of me as an infant but. that is what i’m saying.

“if he’s red then why are they getting jaundice medicine” because i said so

the end of the fic sounds like this

thank u for coming on this journey with me, im a big gay who likes big gays.

this is the longest thing i’ve ever written. i keep saying that but. i straight up dropped out of college because writing things is hard. and while i’ve written a bunch bc i like to come up with stories and the like, i’ve only finished a handful of projects. this is one of them!!! so it’s gonna live in my soft gay heart for a while.

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs #the untamed #wen qing #luo qingyang #i have always loved the door #behind the scenes #mianmian #god i just [clenches fist] love mianmian

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rosethornewrites · 3 years

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Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 16

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Family, and they were married, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Feels, Sex Education, Implied Sexual Content, First Time, Aftercare, Morning After, Afterglow, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Hand Jobs, Chronic Pain, Biting, Conversations, Self-Sacrifice, POV Third Person, POV Lan WangJi

Summary: The Jiang siblings visit the Burial Mounds. Feels are had.

Warning: Involves bugs as food. For Notes, see end.

AO3 link

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

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Lan Wangji is unsurprised, and somewhat relieved, when Wen Qing takes one look at Wei Ying upon their return to the Burial Mounds and tells him to go take a nap with A-Yuan.

His husband had already been swaying dangerously in the Yiling market when they had bought supplies, and had tried to insist Jiang Yanli ride in the cart while he walk, though he had quickly been overruled when Wen Ning, of all people, pointed out they could both ride comfortably if someone had a qiankun pouch for their purchases. Jiang Wanyin had pulled one from his sleeve, one that seemed oddly full, and Wen Ning helped place their purchases in it.

“Get in the damn cart, moron,” the Jiang sect leader said when Wei Ying hesitated.

“A-Xian, come ride with me,” Jiang Yanli coaxed, taking his arm and steering him to it herself.

Wei Ying was exhausted enough to fall asleep on her shoulder, despite the bumpy ride, on the way back, A-Yuan snuggled in his sister’s arms. He doesn’t look particularly refreshed when they have to wake him.

Despite his exhaustion, Wei Ying still tries to argue against a nap, eying his siblings, clearly considering their visit more important than his health. Lan Wangji finds his disregard for his own well-being concerning, but is well aware it isn’t unusual, just something they need to break him of.

“I told them,” he says. “In town. I bet they have questions, and—”

“I can answer their questions, Wei Wuxian!” she cuts in. “I performed the surgery, after all. You’re delegating the task to me and going to take a nap before I bring out the needles—don’t think I won’t knock you out.”

The mention of her needles clearly cows him, but he still seems hesitant.

“It’s our turn to take care of things,” Jiang Wanyin says, not looking at him. “You’ve done enough, Wei Wuxian.”

“More than enough,” Jiang Yanli murmurs, and reaches forward to pull him into a gentle hug. “Let us take care of our A-Xian, hm?”

Wei Ying seems frozen for a moment in the embrace, but relaxes into it. Lan Wangji can see him tremble as he hugs her back, and he knows, for the moment, they’ve won. It’s a small triumph, but at this point he’ll take it.

“Okay, shijie,” he says finally. “Xianxian will take a nap with Yuanyuan.”

She lets him go and pats his cheek in a way that reminds Lan Wangji of his mother when he was very young.

A-Yuan insists on giving his guma a hug before he lets Wei Ying take his hand and lead him toward the cave.

“Go with him,” Wen Qing insists, to his surprise.

It must show somehow, because she sighs.

“I told you when you came: you take care of him. That’s your job. I’ll take care of this—I wrote Jiang-guniang, after all.”

Lan Wangji nods, privately relieved his presence isn’t required for this conversation. He bows to each of them before leaving, including Wen Qing as a thank you even though it makes her huff in embarrassment.

As he takes longer strides to catch up with Wei Ying, he can hear Jiang Yanli speak to Wen Qing in a sweet voice that is likely terrifying up close in how it utterly fails to hide her ferocious protectiveness of her beloved adoptive brother—he mentally wishes Wen Qing luck.

He picks up A-Yuan and gets a startled glance from Wei Ying, who is not quite to the point of barely standing, but close enough that Lan Wangji wraps his free arm around him to steady him as they make their way to the cave.

A-Yuan babbles sleepily about having a new aunt and uncle, having been largely unaffected by the tension in town, and before long they’re both tucked in. Wei Ying doesn’t bother removing his boots, so Lan Wangji does it for him.

Before he can rise, Wei Ying reaches out for him, his eyes half-lidded as he’s already being pulled toward sleep, in what Lan Wangji recognizes as a plea for him to stay, to sit on the bed and let him be close as he sleeps. After the stress of the afternoon on his husband, he is happy to oblige, happy Wei Ying would ask, even silently, for his support.

“I will stay,” he tells him, settling beside him on the bed, letting Wei Ying tuck close and use his thigh as a pillow.

Not to be left out, A-Yuan clambers over them and settles curled between them against Wei Ying’s stomach, his face pressed into the front of his robe as he falls asleep. Lan Wangji draws the blanket up over both of them.

He has used the table near the bed both as a desk and to play the guqin, so it is no trouble to carefully stack the papers next to the bed and slide the inkstone back so he can pull out Wangji.

Wei Ying lets out a soft sigh, the tension leaving his body, as he starts ‘WuJi.’ The song has been a comfort to his husband, he knows, when he himself failed to be, and he hopes to soon work on a new song, something that will capture the joy he finds in their marriage. The circumstances in which they and the people Wei Ying rescued live are less than ideal, and he wishes he could take him from this place of darkness and the memories of the horror he still cannot speak of, but they are together, and that is much preferable to being alone in the Cloud Recesses.

Before long, Wei Ying is asleep, and he segues into songs of cleansing and healing. Without a golden core, without Wen Qing’s needles, the latter has little impact—but little isn’t none, and he is still recovering. Every little bit helps, and after the stress of the day, he helps the only way he can, aside from serving as Wei Ying’s pillow.

He loses himself in the music, coming close to a meditative state as he plays. Time passes like sand through fingers before he hears hesitant steps enter the cave.

Lan Wangji pauses in his playing, recognizing two sets of footsteps, one the shuffling gait of Wen Ning, and the other softer. He is unsurprised when Jiang Yanli is the second set.

He is also unsurprised to see her face wet with tears.

Wen Ning offers her a short bow, then hefts the bathtub from their alcove as he does daily, kindly bringing fresh water and herbs for Wei Ying to use at night. He nods to him in thanks.

Jiang Yanli returns Wen Ning’s bow, and his esteem of her rises—many failed to give that respect to him in life, and more would likely refuse to now that he is a corpse, spiritual conscious or not. But Wei Ying’s sister recognizes him as he is: family.

Though the reverberation of the strings has ceased, the motion of stilling them is a comfort to Lan Wangji as he waits for her to speak. She watches her brother sleep for a while.

“Wen-guniang… She said he’s in pain,” she finally says.

Lan Wangji nods to confirm.

“That he’s been in pain since— since the war, and we didn’t…”

More tears spill down her cheeks, and he knows if Wei Ying were awake he would spring to comfort her.

“He hid it,” he tells her softly. “You could not have known.”

She makes a sound that is almost pained.

“I raised him. I knew something was wrong, and I didn’t—“

Jiang Yanli presses her fist against her mouth.

“I led him to believe I disdained him and wished for him to be punished,” Lan Wangji says.

His failure to communicate had led to the strain of their relationship, to the point where Wei Ying had questioned whether he was still his zhiji, and he will forever regret letting him walk away into the darkness and rain even after that. He empathizes with her completely.

She is silent for a while before she nods.

“Wen-guniang has an idea,” she says. “She said Zewu-Jun pointed out that there is a life debt among our generation. The six of us, A-Xuan, and Nie Huaisang. An auspicious eight. Swearing brotherhood… It could protect A-Xian, and the people here.”

Xiongzhang had hinted at it, and Lan Wangji is glad Wen Qing is furthering the possibility.

“It would tie together the four sects, and the remnants of the Dafan Wen,” he adds, thinking aloud.

“A-Cheng pointed out that the lotus blossom has eight petals,” she says, smiling wistfully. “He and A-Xian used to talk about being the Twin Prides of Yunmeng. It seems almost like a sign.”

Lan Wangji is struck silent at the idea; the eight auspicious signs are almost sacred, and the imagery would be iconic. The imagery was prevalent at temples—the eternal wheel of life, the endless knot, the conch, the parasol, the lotus…

The noble eightfold path, an expansion of the threefold way.

Almost implying an expansion of the Venerated Triad, and associating Wei Ying with the noble path regardless of his cultivation.

“Apt,” he says when he finally finds his voice.

“I’ll talk to A-Xuan,” she says, her voice distant. “I know he and A-Xian didn’t get off on the right foot, but he knows I love my didi.”

“Xiongzhang is bringing Chifeng-Zun and Nie Huaisang to see the settlement after your wedding,” Lan Wangji tells her. “I am certain Wen Qing will broach the topic of a sworn brotherhood with them then.”

Jiang Yanli sways slightly, and he panics for a moment; if he needs to move to catch her, it will jostle and wake Wei Ying, and he needs the rest. But she steadies herself, and he is able to gesture to a chair instead, and she takes a seat.

“Hanguang-Jun, since you are my brother’s husband, I wondered if I might call you A-Zhan.”

The request to use his birth name surprises him—xiongzhang had only requested to call Wei Ying by his courtesy name—but she seems earnest about wanting to welcome him to the family.

“Of course. May I call you… A-Li?”

A smile blossoms across her face, and she nods, looking pleased.

Then Wei Ying murmurs in his sleep and their attention snaps to him. Lan Wangji strokes his hair gently, letting his fingers brush his scalp in a way he knows soothes him. He settles almost instantly, but he doesn’t stop his ministrations.

Jiang Yanli, when he next looks up, is watching with a bittersweet look on her face.

“I used to do that for him,” she says softly, “when he had nightmares. Until he started hiding them.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t know what to say, so only nods. He understands her sense of helplessness, knowing Wei Ying is adept at hiding his pain, would still be hiding it if not for having pulled his wrist away a second too late.

“I wish he was coming to my wedding,” she confesses, her voice breaking. “He belongs there. But they’d try to kill him.”

He cannot disagree with either statement. Wei Ying should be there, as one of her last remaining family members, even if he did not share her blood, but it would never be permitted. Not now. Not until the plan xiongzhang implied to Wen Qing is put into motion.

But by then she will be married, the wedding over, and Wei Ying will not have been permitted to attend.

“You have done what you can to include him,” he tells her, hoping to soothe her. “He did not expect this much.”

It seems to have the opposite effect, tears lining her cheeks again.

“He never expects anything of us,” she whispers. “Mother made him feel undeserving, like he should feel grateful for any scrap. I try not to hate her for it, but…”

Lan Wangji can understand how she feels, has seen the marks from Zidian on Wei Ying, still healing when he gave his core to his brother, something he has probably hidden from his sister even through everything. And he knows Wei Ying feels he deserves those marks, believing the fall of Lotus Pier to be of his doing. The emotional damage goes far deeper.

“We can only assure him he deserves more,” he says after a moment. “And be sure to give it to him.”

He has been trying to do so, but it never feels like enough to make up for abandoning him at Qiongqi Path, for failing to join him on the righteous path, even if it is the single-plank one, for making his zhiji believe he reviled him. He understands how Jiang Yanli feels—though perhaps she feels it more deeply, or at least differently, as the person who basically raised him.

Footsteps approach from the cave entrance, Wen Ning with the tub filled with fresh water, something he has insisted upon doing since it was purchased. At some point during each day, he cleans and fills it, even preparing a fresh sachet of herbs to help Wei Ying recover. Truthfully, even with Lan Wangji’s arm strength he doubts he could lift it as easily as the fierce corpse is able, and he is grateful for his thoughtfulness.

“Than—thank you for waiting, Jiang-guniang,” he says after setting it down. “Popo is waiting to help us in the k-kitchen with preparing dinner.”

Jiang Yanli favors him with a smile.

“Thank you, Wen-gongzi.”

“Ah, you c-can just call me Wen Ning,” he says, looking flustered as he often does when people offer respect to him.

“Then you must call me Jiang Yanli.”

Wen Ning looks like he might protest, but she turns to Lan Wangji before he can, dipping into a proper and respectful bow.

“A-Zhan, thank you for taking care of A-Xian. It is…”

Her voice cracks, emotions nearly overcoming her again. It takes her a moment to recover.

“It is a relief to know someone else is here for him when I cannot be. I entrust him to your care.”

The formality, Lan Wangji realizes, is her approval of their union. Warmth spreads through him at her acceptance.

“However,” she says, a slight smile on her face that is also somehow fierce. “I think you will agree with me that A-Xian deserves a real wedding, at Lotus Pier, as soon as it is possible.”

The image of Wei Ying sitting on a bed in Nightless City in his red underrobes, the joy of his waking mixing with the wish they were wedding robes… that Jiang Yanli wants to ensure they receive that, that their union can be celebrated, if belatedly, in the way Wei Ying deserves to be honored.

“Yes,” he says softly. “I agree.”

She nods, clearly pleased.

“It will happen, A-Zhan; I’ll make sure of it.”

Lan Wangji has absolutely no doubt she will.

She leaves with Wen Ning, and he remembers her intention to cool the soup Wei Ying so loves for the settlement. It will be a welcome meal for them all.

Though he could resume playing, Lan Wangji opts to sink into a meditative state instead, waiting. He doesn’t need to wait long, as footsteps that are almost stomps approach and enter the cave.

He is ready to stare at Jiang Wanyin disapprovingly, but the steps hesitate, becoming uncertain, on the way to the alcove.

“He’s still resting,” Lan Wangji says before he can speak.

Jiang Wanyin’s face does something strange, going soft for a moment as he gazes at his brother and nephew, the top of A-Yuan’s head just visible poking out from beneath the blanket. Then his expression shutters.

“He needs the rest, then?” he asks.

“Mn. He is recovering. He also was giving most of his food to A-Yuan before I arrived. He is finally eating properly.”

The muscles in the Jiang sect leader’s jaw clench, working as though he’s stopping himself from saying something—or, more likely, yelling.

“He always gives too much,” Jiang Wanyin says finally.

Lan Wangji nods; he agrees with that assessment.

“I want to bring him back to Lotus Pier.”

The announcement is unexpected, and he reconsiders his assessment of the man.

“He will not leave these people.”

“I know that. The Wens too, of course.”

“They do not wish to be known as Wens,” Lan Wangji tells him, and watches Wei Ying sleep for a moment to be certain he won’t hear before continuing. “I believe they hope to take on Wei as a family name. They have not broached the subject with Wei Ying yet.”

Jiang Wanyin sits heavily in the chair his sister vacated, sighing.

“He’ll do that thing. Where he belittles himself,” he says, his voice rough. “It’s like he believes all the awful things a-niang said about him.”

Because he does believe them, Lan Wangji is well aware. His anger at a dead woman is unbecoming, but it will likely never fade. She trained Wei Ying to see himself as worthless, as a charity case, when he was one of the best cultivators of their generation. Even without his core, he was still inventing tools to help the cultivation world that slanders and wishes him dead.

“Not that I’m much better. He’s my brother and I fucking abandoned him,” Jiang Wanyin mutters. “And I accused him of abandoning me, on top of it. When—when he left a big piece of himself with me to protect me.”

It occurs to Lan Wangji that perhaps both Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli suffered their own childhood traumas associated with bad parenting, that this is perhaps just a variation of that which has led Wei Ying down his path of self-destruction through giving too much, through not valuing himself. His own troubled upbringing led him to value his clan and the Lan rules over his zhiji, to believe his identity must be tied up in being a perceived paragon of Lan virtue above all else. Theirs led to Wei Ying’s isolation as well.

“You had no way of knowing,” he says. “Now that you know, you are trying to help him.”

What they do now does not absolve them of their wrongs, but it is a start.

Jiang Wanyin’s jaw clenches again, then releases when he sighs.

“I can’t undo the shitty stuff I said to him. You’ll come to Lotus Pier with him, right?”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji says, surprised that’s in question. “He’s my husband.”

He receives a nod in response.

“He’ll need bigger quarters, then, for you and A-Yuan. I could give him a-niang’s old quarters, but I don’t know if he’d want to live where she did. He deserves them as my head disciple, so maybe if I remodel them…”

Jiang Wanyin seems to be thinking out loud.

“Wei Ying is still your head disciple?” he asks, having not realized.

“Yeah,” Jiang Wanyin says, then grimaces. “I never took him off the register. Kicking him out was for show, because he insisted. He never stopped being head disciple, but he probably doesn’t realize that.”

He likely doesn’t, knowing Wei Ying. Wei Ying, who still believes himself responsible for the fall of Lotus Pier, for the deaths that were a part of it. Even being head disciple, there will be much he cannot do, lacking a golden core.

“I can help with his duties,” Lan Wangji offers impulsively.

Jiang Wanyin blinks at him, startled, then smiles in a way that makes him look painfully young.

“Appreciated. He’ll… Well, he’ll need help with some of it. At least until Wen Qing figures out a way to help him.”

Lan Wangji realizes the Jiang sect leader is still hoping there’s a solution, that Wei Ying will again achieve the impossible.

“She’s going to make a list of things she’ll need to get started,” Jiang Wanyin continues. “And I’ll work to get ahold of them.”

A-Yuan stirs before Lan Wangji can reply.

“Loud,” he murmurs. “A-Die sleeping, shhhh.”

He wriggles his way out from under the blanket, somehow managing not to disturb Wei Ying as he does, then crawls off the bed.

“Jiang-shushu loud.”

His voice is pitched in an almost theatrical whisper, and Jiang Wanyin snorts in amusement.

“Okay,” he whispers back, also theatrical. “Let’s leave your a-die to sleep and go find guma, then.”

A-Yuan glances back at Wei Ying, then at Lan Wangji, who nods encouragingly. Then he turns back to Jiang Wanyin and holds his arms up expectantly.

Jiang Wanyin stands, pulling A-Yuan into his arms as he does.

“I’ll watch the kid. It looks like everyone else is busy right now.”

Lan Wangji simply nods in response. A-Yuan chatters softly to his uncle as they make their way out of the cave, leaving him alone with Wei Ying.

Jiang Wanyin’s absence is a relief. He finds it difficult still not to resent him for his choice to abandon Wei Ying, for the fact that Wei Ying’s core now rests within him, even for his desperate hope that his brother will somehow heal enough to form a new one. In far too many ways, it’s not enough, just as anything Lan Wangji does now cannot make up for his own failures.

He reminds him of Wei Ying’s mortality, as unfair as that may be.

Resentment will help nothing, may even be exacerbated now by the Burial Mounds, so Lan Wangji works to focus instead on the sensation of Wei Ying’s hair against his fingers, the weight of his head on his thigh, his soft breaths, and he is eventually able to fall into a sort of meditation until Wen Qing comes to fetch them.

“Jiang-zongzhu set up the tablets for the adoption rites, so we can start with those,” she tells Wei Ying once he’s awake.

Wei Ying stares at her blearily for a moment.

“Adopting A-Yuan,” Lan Wangji prompts gently.

Wen Qing gives him a disapproving look.

“He’s very excited, and your siblings can serve as witnesses.”

“Right. Sorry. Been a long day,” Wei Ying murmurs, then glances at Lan Wangji. “It’s still today, right?”

Lan Wangji brushes a lock of hair back from his face.

“Mm. You slept only a few hours.”

Wei Ying melts into his touch, and he leans forward to brush his lips against his forehead. Wen Qing clears her throat and drops a bundle on the bed.

“Your sister also made Jiang-zongzhu go back into town and buy nice clothing for you and A-Yuan for the adoption rites.”

She indicates the bundle.

“So hurry up and get changed. She cooked up a feast, and everyone’s hungry. I think she’s determined to give you a proper wedding banquet.”

Wen Qing, ever brusque, turns on her heel and leaves before either of them can respond.

Wei Ying opens the bundle on the bed, blinking at the high quality clothing. The fabric, at a glance, looks black, but has threadwork in a deep blue and purple. It sends a message from Jiang Wanyin: Wei Ying is of the Jiang sect still. A red underrobe, new zhong yi, a red silk hair ribbon embroidered with little pink lotuses, and even new boots complete the package.

“Aiya, Jiang Cheng… How can I wear these?”

“You were not removed from the sect registry. He insists you are still his head disciple.

“Oh,” Wei Ying breathes, taking a heavy seat on the bed, clearly overwhelmed.

Lan Wangji wonders if he should tell Wei Ying the rest—that Jiang Wanyin intends to bring everyone at Burial Mounds to Lotus Pier permanently when it is feasible. But he will leave that to the Jiang sect leader.

Instead he opens his qiankun pouch and pulls out the light blue robes he arrived wearing, which he hasn’t worn in days. If dinner is in part for them, he should dress appropriately, as well.

Changing takes little time, though Lan Wangji has Wei Ying sit for his hair to be combed and put back in its crown, as it came loose as he slept.

The entire settlement is waiting for them in the hall when they enter, and though only Wen Qing has seen an official adoption rite, she demurs from describing it.

“It was Wen Zhuliu’s, so it feels like bad luck to copy it,” she says when pressed.

None of them argue.

“We should have seen an adoption rite,” Jiang Wanyin mutters.

Wei Ying seems not to have heard, focused on A-Yuan. He takes the child’s hand and leads him to the space where someone has set up an altar with his parents’ tablets, complete with sticks of incense and food offerings: three cups holding tea, water, and Jifu’s fruit wine, plates with small stacks of oranges and sweets. A fire burns in a small brazier in front of the altar, a stack of joss paper set nearby.

For a moment, Wei Ying is completely silent, looking at the altar as though struck.

Jiang Yanli breaks the silence.

“You’ve never been able to venerate them,” she murmurs.

Lan Wangji understands suddenly: there was no place set for Wei Ying’s parents’ tablets at Lotus Pier, and so his husband has never been able to properly pay them respects—cruel, given their bodies were never found to begin with.

“Thank you, shijie.”

His voice is heavy with emotion, and he kneels and gestures to A-Yuan to do the same.

Wei Ying keeps it simple, first apologizing for being unable to do his filial duty for them, kowtowing before them. A-Yuan copies him dutifully, and this receives smiles from the others.

“A-Die, a-niang, I want to introduce my son to you, Wei Yuan. He may not share my blood, but he is your sunzi. I ask you to help me protect and guide him, if you are able. This one will do a better job honoring you in the future.”

He murmurs something to A-Yuan, who bows as best he can.

“Wei Yuan greets yeye and nainai. A-Yuan will burn joss and incense and clean your altar. A-Yuan promises to be filial.”

They light the incense using the brazier, then burn joss together, letting the paper fall into the flame piece by piece.

Lan Wangji longs to join them, to thank Wei Ying’s parents for bringing him into the world, and Wei Ying turns to him as though hearing those thoughts. When his husband gestures, he steps forward to take his place kneeling beside him.

“A-Die, a-niang, I also want to introduce you to my husband,” Wei Ying says, blushing as though they’ve not been wed over a week. “We completed our bows, but not before your tablets.”

They bow together, three times again.

“Fuqin, muqin, thank you for Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, bowing one last time alone. “I promise to honor him, and to protect him and Wei Yuan.”

They burn the remaining joss together, as a family, before standing.

Jiang Yanli rushes forward to hug Wei Ying, who pulls Lan Wangji and A-Yuan into it. There’s a warmth to it that he isn’t used to, his own family reserved, and it surprises him as much as xiongzhang’s hug did.

“Ah, I have a new didi and an adorable zizhi!” she says happily, then pulls at their arms as she releases them from the embrace. “We prepared a nice meal to celebrate, come!”

The tables are covered in dishes, the serving bowls and platters clearly heated by talismans to keep the food at an ideal temperature.

“The guests of honor fill their plates first,” popo says insistently, clicking her tongue when Wei Ying gestures for her to go ahead. “A-Xian is still too thin!”

Wei Ying startles at the affectionate address and she smiles and pats his arm.

Lan Wangji steps forward first, recognizing the futility of refusing popo’s demand. There is a bowl with chili sauce on the table, likely Wei Ying’s favorite kind. The dishes range from the familiar—the lotus root and pork rib soup he was introduced to earlier in a huge tureen, braised pork belly with mushrooms and bok choy, tea eggs, fried radish cakes, baozi, cucumber salad, sautéed dock root and millet with Sichuan peppercorns that would make his mouth numb—to the unfamiliar. He recognizes noodles cooked with what looks like water spinach and shaved carrot, mixed with, upon closer look, crisp-fried silkworm pupae.

He doesn’t realize Wei Ying is beside him until he makes an intrigued noise.

“Where did we get those? Shijie, did you bring them?”

“A-Ning found a copse of mulberry a few nights ago,” Wen Qing tells them. “He brought the silkworm cocoons to the aunties to unwind so we can sell the silk. He harvested the berries, too.”

“We—we cooked them with d-dessert,” Wen Ning adds.

Though he is aware that silkworm pupae are commonly sold at market when silk is harvested, Lan Wangji has never had occasion to try them. Despite the fact that silk is harvested by the GusuLan weavers and used in robes for the clan, the production is kept out of the Cloud Recesses because the cocoons are boiled to extract the intact silk, killing the pupae in the process, and killing any creature, even an insect, is prohibited within the bounds of the Cloud Recesses. Presumably the pupae are sold in Caiyi, but meat is not a staple in his home.

But he was raised not to be a picky eater, and insects are a viable source of protein, something sorely needed by the people living here. Wei Ying seems content to serve himself and A-Yuan a large helping, so Lan Wangji does the same, placing a wide variety of dishes on his own plate to sample, but avoiding the chili sauce for the sake of his palate.

“I put in fewer peppercorns than I usually do,” Jiang Yanli murmurs to him. “I know you like milder dishes.”

He nods his thanks, and lets her press a bowl of soup into his free hand.

She follows him with two more to place before Wei Ying and A-Yuan, then pinches her brother’s cheek as though he’s a child.

“Eat the whole plate, Xianxian, and then you’ll get dessert.”

He is quietly pleased when Wei Ying plays along with a bright smile.

“But what if Xianxian wants more?”

She leans forward and kisses his brow like a mother might.

“Xianxian can have as much as he wants. Popo and Wen Ning helped me cook plenty. And dessert is mulberry millet pudding sweetened with honey, so I know you’ll like it.”

Then she turns to A-Yuan and favors him with the same treatment.

“You too. Eat plenty so you can grow big and strong.”

“A-Die plants me with the radishes so I will!” A-Yuan says proudly, and those within earshot laugh.

Jiang Yanli’s laughter is not unlike the gentle ringing of the bells the Jiang sect wears at their belts. She turns to him, patting his shoulder affectionately.

“A-Zhan as well. Your strength is important. More than three bowls if you want.”

The reference to the rules of the Cloud Recesses is nostalgic, but not in a painful way. It is more a reminder that he will now uphold the rules as he sees fit, now that his home is Wei Ying.

They are surrounded by familiar chatter, the smell of food of a more quality fare than any at the Burial Mounds have had in some time, and the warmth of family.

He hopes this can be the sort of happiness that awaits them for some time.

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In my culture, generally we don’t eat insects/bugs and often find it intrinsically disgusting. I’ve never eaten insects/bugs. However, my biases are not applicable to the culture I am writing into. My understanding from friends is that there are many insects and arachnids commonly eaten in China. A close friend of mine has eaten ant eggs, grasshoppers, and other insects. Another has mentioned tacos that involve insects as a common ingredient in Mexico. In China, markets often have fried scorpions on a stick, grasshoppers, and many other insects as street food for purchase.

Given life on the Burial Mounds involves a lot of scraping by, I’d imagine some of their meals involve insects, which culturally wouldn’t be unusual. Likely if there were insects in the Burial Mounds, eating them helped Wei Wuxian survive them. They’d be an important source of protein.

While silkworm pupae are often fried in peanut oil and eaten on skewers or like nuts, from my research, my friend believed the dish I concocted in here was believable. (I also researched what the taste and texture is, but decided not to include it.) She also said the dessert of mulberry millet pudding is something eaten in southern China, which I didn’t know—I just knew it sounded like it’d be delicious.

In terms of the millet, meta discussions of MDZS have involved the fact that millet was likely more common (and less expensive) than rice at rough time of the setting, so I included that.

My friend was kind enough to read for cultural sensitivity regarding the auspicious eight, adoption rites, and ancestor veneration, so I hope they read well. This is a chapter I was particularly worried about because of the cultural aspects, and I hope it reads well.

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rosethornewrites · 3 years

Text

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 14

Summary: With Wei Wuxian on the mend, Wen Qing sends him into town with A-Yuan, Lan Wangji, and Wen Ning to keep him out of trouble. They run into someone unexpectedly.

Notes: See end.

AO3 link | FFN link (no smut)

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

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Wei Ying seems happy to be in town for the first time since his near-possession, cleared after nearly a week by Wen Qing. Lan Wangji is of the opinion that the surplus of radishes and need to sell them was more the reason for her clearance, along with the fact a bored Wei Ying was dangerous.

The musical acupuncture helped him heal rapidly for someone without a golden core, according to Wen Qing. And Wei Ying had started to theorize about ways this could potentially be adapted to help Wen Ning—apparently one of the concerns was whether spiritual energy used in such a way would hurt him, or if using resentful energy could damage Wen Ning’s control. He didn’t feel ready to experiment just yet.

There was only so much Lan Wangji could do to keep Wei Ying distracted once he was recovering, though the tidy rewritten notes thrilled his husband. After the third small explosion while he worked on the Compass of Evil, Wen Qing decided he’d do less damage selling radishes with Wen Ning in town, and insisted they take A-Yuan with them so Granny could rest.

Damage is a perhaps relative idea, when a fake Yiling Laozu disciple sets up shop next to them to hawk his counterfeit wares.

Lan Wangji is surprised when Wei Ying finds the whole thing amusing, and says nothing when he steals the charlatan’s Compass of Evil, replacing it with a radish. Truthfully, the theft satisfies him; it grates on him to hear the lies gossips spew, to see people slander his zhiji for their own gain.

The day is otherwise long, with Wen Ning too shy to effectively call attention to their radishes. Adorably, A-Yuan is a bit of a help there, enthusiastically calling the attention of young women who find him adorable (but at least purchased radishes), but he grows bored easily and needs redirection.

It doesn’t help that Wei Ying keeps rubbing his hand over his collar with a dreamy expression, which more than once leads Lan Wangji to recite the Lan precepts mentally lest he act inappropriately in public—Wei Ying is wearing his ribbon at his crown, so that restraint is absent.

Under his collar is the evidence of his lack of restraint—a bruise in the shape of Lan Wangji’s teeth.

He is careful, on the whole, given Wei Ying bruises easily in his unhealthy state, bruises that take too long to fade for Wangji’s comfort. But with Wei Ying straddling his lap and moaning obscenities in his ear, moving his hips just so, as he was tasting the sweat on his collar, his control had broken.

At the bite, Wei Ying had come with an exultant “yes!” Their stomachs slick with it between them, his nails scraping at Lan Wangji’s back, clenching so hard around him his vision whited out with the force of his own orgasm. He can’t think about the bruise without remembering.

Wei Ying likes the bruise, to Lan Wangji’s mortification. Likes being marked by him, little reminders of their every day.

“I know you’d never really hurt me, Lan Zhan,” he’d said, his voice filled with a trust Lan Wangji didn’t feel he deserved. “And I liked it, in case you couldn’t tell.”

Watching Wei Ying rub it here in town is a special kind of hell, him at arm’s length and too far from their bed.

It becomes worse when Wei Ying glances his way and catches him looking, immediately reddening as though he knows exactly what he is thinking, which makes restraint all the more difficult. He looks beautiful, blushing. But he has always looked beautiful, and Lan Wangji had previously managed restraint—that was, however, before he had acknowledged their relationship, before they had consummated. Somehow the longing, the dreams and fantasies, had been much more manageable before he knew how Wei Ying’s sweat-slick skin tasted, how he felt coming apart.

The sale of the last of the radishes is a relief, but they still need to purchase items on Wen Qing’s list before returning to Burial Mounds. He lets Wei Ying focus on A-Yuan, who insists on being carried, and walks alongside him without touching him. A-Yuan is practically hanging backward from Wei Ying’s arms, giggling at silly faces he’s making. Wen Ning takes up the rear with the cart, where he’ll have Wei Ying sit if his strength fails him.

He is so focused on Wei Ying beside him that he doesn’t notice Jiang Wanyin in front of them until he halts, the smile on his face freezing, his stream of nonsense conversation with A-Yuan trailing into silence.

Jiang Wanyin does not look happy.

But, then, he rarely does.

Lan Wangji has to steel himself, doing his best not to look at the lower dantian where Wei Ying’s core now rests. Instead he bows politely.

“Sect Leader Jiang.”

Beside him, Wei Ying bows as best he can with A-Yuan in his arms, and he can sense movement behind him that tells him Wen Ning has followed suit.

Jiang Wanyin’s lip curls, but he just silently tosses his head in a beckoning gesture.

He can hear the way Wei Ying’s breath quickens, the bit of perspiration on his upper lip. Can sense his nervousness over what is to come, what he has decided to reveal. Lan Wangji takes a breath to calm himself. His husband needs him steady now.

The moment Jiang Wanyin turns to lead the way to wherever he intends them to speak, Lan Wangji puts a steadying hand on Wei Ying’s elbow as they follow and receives a wan smile in response.

Lan Wangji is relieved he is wearing the clothing the aunties sewed for him today, wearing a simpler guan Wei Ying had carved for him personally after he had expressed reluctance to continue wearing the one he had worn to befit and show his station. Wei Ying had carved two rabbits on the guan, one wearing a forehead ribbon and the other stained a darker color with leftover dye from the dock root. The craftwork had distracted him nicely for a while.

The clothing is of a heavier weave than he is used to, but he doesn’t mind it. If the plainer clothing has distracted Jiang Wanyin from noticing Lan Wangji is not wearing his forehead ribbon, that it is woven around Wei Ying’s crown and plaited with his red ribbon down his back, it is a relief. Jiang Wanyin is not known for an even temper, and his inattention has staved off what might be an argument until they are out of public.

Wei Ying will find the coming conversations stressful enough in private. He doesn’t need it to start publicly and draw attention from the locals.

Despite all the rumors about Wei Ying floating around Yiling, none of the regular citizens seem to know what he looks like. Any rumors imported speak of him as a demon or monster, and so any talismans purporting to show his features show him as such—talismans Wei Ying had decorated his cave with, and which Lan Wangji has successfully convinced him to allow him to remove. As infamous and reviled as Wei Ying is, he has managed to stay anonymous outside the gentry, anonymity that affords him some safety, and Lan Wangji would rather it not be shattered by one of Jiang Wanyin’s temper tantrums.

They are led to a courtyard, and though Jiang Wanyin first tries to close the door to keep Lan Wangji and Wen Ning out, he is able to stop this by blocking the shutting door with his sheathed sword. The Jiang sect heir must see something in the narrowing of Lan Wangji’s eyes, because he doesn’t attempt it again, instead closing and locking the door behind them.

Aside from a single figure in a long black cloak, they are alone, and Lan Wangji is unsurprised but pleased when it turns out to be Jiang Yanli in her wedding robes and headdress, come to show Wei Ying so he is not completely left out—he has seen his husband’s pain over this, how much he misses the sister who raised him, knows she is as close to his blood as can be, and he hopes this eases it somewhat.

Lan Wangji can feel Wei Ying’s arms drooping under the weight of A-Yuan, so he carefully takes the boy from him so he can greet his sister.

“A-Xian,” she calls him, untying the cloak and letting it fall. “What do you think?”

He’s close enough to hear Wei Ying’s breath catch, and is taken back to his disappointment over being excluded from the wedding. He himself is reminded of seeing Wei Ying in red following the Sunshot Campaign, in his underrobes after waking for a coma, the only time he has seen him in only in red. He realizes with a pang he will never see his husband in wedding robes.

“What, she’s not marrying you.”

Jiang Wanyin’s snide tone grates on Lan Wangji, but Wei Ying responds in kind, and he recalls watching them snipe verbally at each other during the lecture in Cloud Recesses, back before the world fell apart.

Jiang Yanli calms them, and he marvels at her ability to bring them together as they try to convince her she looks lovely in her wedding garb.

“You’ll only believe it if he says it,” Wei Ying says, faking petulance. “Lan Zhan, what do you think?”

He had been trying to avert his eyes politely, but even Jiang Wanyin seems to be watching for his reaction, so he studies them, the delicate stitching, the fall of the layers.

Lan Wangji wishes he could see Wei Ying in wedding robes.

“Elegant,” he says with a nod.

“Zhan-gege, who’s Pretty-jiejie?” A-Yuan asks, twisting in his hold.

Wei Ying smiles at the boy, taking him back.

“Even A-Yuan knows you’re pretty, shijie, so you don’t need to worry.”

Jiang Yanli folds the cloak and gestures to the nearby table.

“Come now, I’ve made soup.”

When Wei Ying sits, Jiang Yanli’s expression shifts to surprise, and he notices her looking at his forehead ribbon in his hair. She looks to him, a question in her expression, and he simply nods. Her responding smile is filled with relief, but also regret.

He is surprised when she doesn’t address it immediately, instead gesturing to him to sit and opening the basket. He takes a seat beside Wei Ying. The smell of the soup fills the air, a scent unfamiliar to Lan Wangji, but one that reminds him of his husband. This, he realizes, must be the lotus root and pork rib soup he has heard him talk about.

“I apologize. I only have three bowls,” she says, sounding truly disappointed. “I did not expect…”

Lan Wangji is about to demur and insist he does not intend to eat when Jiang Wanyin, surprisingly, pulls out a pouch of money.

“We can purchase a couple from the market, A-jie.”

Wen Ning bows.

“Jiang-zongzhu, Jiang-guniang, I can g-go for you.”

Jiang Wanyin frowns at Wen Ning with thinly veiled hostility that baffles Lan Wangji, but hands him some silver.

As Wen Ning flees, he wonders if it is to avoid Jiang Wanyin, or to avoid being present for at least part of the conversation to come.

He knows Wei Ying would prefer to flee, and he strokes his arm briefly with his thumb. The smile he receives from his husband is tremulous, but he can see his determination.

Jiang Yanli smiles at A-Yuan, her attention drawn by the movement.

“Who is this little one?” she asks, crouching slightly so she’s at the child’s height.

“A-Yuan is A-Yuan, Pretty-jiejie!”

Wei Ying shifts, catching his hand briefly and squeezing it; Lan Wangji realizes he’s decided to start here, with A-Yuan, in the multitude of revelations that are to be made.

“A-Yuan, this is my shijie,” he says softly. “You can call her guma.”

Jiang Yanli gasps in delight when A-Yuan dutifully calls her guma.

“A-Xian, is he yours?”

She is obviously unable to take him into her arms, wearing her wedding robes as she is, but she reaches out to take A-Yuan’s hand.

“Not by blood, but he started calling me a-die.”

He offers a wan smile to both his siblings.

“Meet Wei Yuan. Or he will be, once I’ve introduced him properly to my parents.”

“He’s a Wen,” Jiang Wanyin states.

Lan Wangji levels him with a stare, though it’s unclear in his tone how he feels.

“He’s an orphan and he’s three years old,” Wei Ying shoots back.

Jiang Wanyin’s face softens, but Jiang Yanli looks alarmed.

“A-Xian, he was at the work camp? At Qiongqi Path?”

Her face hardens when he nods.

“The children, the civilians, all were supposed to be let go. How could they…?”

Lan Wangji stays silent, knowing Wei Ying would prefer to shield her from some of the uglier realities of the war, but is reminded of coming upon Jin Zixun shooting unarmed civilians in chains, and his lie that it was sanctioned by the Lan and Nie clans.

“I couldn’t leave them there, shijie,” he whispers. “Wen Ning and Wen Qing sheltered us, and the others were held as Wen Ruohan’s hostages against her during the war.”

A-Yuan is watching Wei Ying quietly, with the same air of concern he had at the restaurant in Yiling not so many days ago. Lan Wangji shifts again to put the child on Wei Ying’s lap, watching as the boy hugs him.

Wei Ying manages a smile for him, then leans his head close to him and points to Jiang Wanyin.

“And the fussy gege is your shushu,” he says conspiratorially.

“You—!”

Jiang Yanli silences Jiang Wanyin with a look.

“Like Ning-shushu?” A-Yuan asks. “Do I call him nao-shushu?”

“That’s your Jiang-shushu,” Wei Ying clarifies before Jiang Cheng can take offense, but nearly chokes on the title and falls quiet.

Lan Wangji remembers abruptly that Wei Ying had once referred to Jiang Fengmian by that very name, and he watches his husband in concern. He has expressed feeling as though the attack on Lotus Pier was his fault, and he can see the guilt and grief Wei Ying is struggling to hold back.

“Yes,” Jiang Wanyin says, his voice strained as though he is fighting his own emotional turmoil, ending an awkward silence. “You can call me Jiang-shushu.”

When A-Yuan does, it is perhaps the closest Lan Wangji has ever seen Jiang Wanyin come to smiling.

Wen Ning returns with several bowls and soup spoons, an inexpensive wooden variety they have at the Burial Mounds. He tries to give Jiang Wanyin his change and is waved off.

“You can use it to get something sweet for… for my zhizi,” he says, his tone brusque. “Or a toy or something.”

Wei Ying smiles, his posture relaxing just slightly—A-Yuan’s acceptance by his siblings as their nephew has eased his nerves somewhat. But this is only the first of three difficult revelations that must be made, and arguably the easiest of them.

Jiang Yanli serves each of them, putting a generous portion of meat in A-Yuan’s bowl, and takes a seat. She herself is not eating, likely concerned about staining her wedding robes. Instead she seems content to watch them eat.

Wei Ying alternates between himself and A-Yuan, one spoon each.

“Be sure to chew the lotus root,” Wen Ning tells the boy softly.

A-Yuan nods enthusiastically, clearly enamored of the flavors; Lan Wangji can’t blame him. Though there is more spice than he is accustomed to, as is the norm in Yunmeng cuisine, the flavor is somehow warm and comforting. He completely understands how this soup is his husband’s favorite.

“You’re not eating,” Jiang Yanli says.

Wen Ning jerks in surprise.

“Oh… I was going to save this for jiejie so she could try it.”

Jiang Yanli smiles warmly.

“We will be coming to Burial Mounds, once I change at the inn. I brought enough ingredients to make some for everyone.”

Wei Ying nearly chokes on a bite of soup. She pats his back until he’s recovered.

“Wen Qing sent me a letter. We have things to discuss.”

Jiang Wanyin looks sour about this.

“Speaking of, Zewu-Jun sent an interesting letter. Said you have news to share. I’m assuming it has to do with why Hanguang-Jun is here?”

Wei Ying puts his soup spoon down and hands A-Yuan off to Wen Ning with his bowl. Wen Ning doesn’t seem surprised by this and takes over feeding him.

He tries not to be nervous over his husband getting the boy out of the potential line of fire. He rather hopes it is unnecessary, but he has seen Jiang Wanyin’s temper.

“About that,” Wei Ying says, then pauses, glancing at Lan Wangji. “Um, well… We’re married.”

For a moment, there is stunned hurt on Jiang Wanyin’s features, but it’s quickly replaced by wrath, powerful enough that zidian sparks.

“You couldn’t even invite us?!”

Lan Wangji will not have him blame Wei Ying for that. He knows there will be enough of that when they get to the next revelation. He would rather the focus be on him.

“He did not know we were married until recently.”

Jiang Wanyin’s eyes snap to him, and he carefully keeps his gaze cool in response to what is almost a volcano. He sputters, almost too angry to speak, zidian sparking even more dangerously, leaving the scent of ozone in the air.

“You— Without his consent?! This, from the honorable Hanguang-Jun?!”

“Jiang Wanyin!”

Wei Ying’s voice is low and cutting, startlingly powerful despite the lack of volume. It’s enough to startle his brother out of his anger, at least momentarily.

“He handfasted me in the Cold Spring cave,” he explains. “Lan Yi’s guqin was attacking me because I wasn’t Lan.”

Jiang Yanli stands and levels a look at Jiang Wanyin that somehow makes him quail; Lan Wangji only understands why when she levels it at him—the fury of a mother figure.

“Please explain, Lan-er-gongzi.”

Her voice is clipped in the same manner it was when she chastised Jin Zixun at the Phoenix Mountain hunt, and leaves no doubt that she will find a way to harm him if his explanation is deemed unsatisfactory. She is mildly terrifying.

“Wei Ying was being attacked with Chord Assassination,” he says. “The headband would afford him protection. I did not expect Lan Yi’s appearance. Or that we would bow. Regardless, I did not regret it.”

“You married him by accident?” Jiang Wanyin mutters, the rage gone and replaced with confusion.

“Lan Yi did not disapprove.”

“And you never told A-Xian?” Jiang Yanli asks.

She also seems more confused than angry now.

Wei Ying sighs tiredly.

“Aiya, Jiang Cheng, shijie… When would he have had time? When we were searching for the yin iron? Indoctrination? The Xuanwu cave? After—”

He breaks off. His siblings look pained, remembering the fate of Lotus Pier, though they don’t know what came after for Wei Ying. Yet.

“There was never time,” Lan Wangji agrees. “I did not expect my regard for him to be reciprocated. But now, with the danger to Wei Ying… even were it solely political, I could help protect him.”

“It’s not solely political,” Wei Ying chirps, his tone almost smug. “It’s very reciprocated—and can’t be annulled now!”

Lan Wangji can feel his ears heating. Just under Wei Ying’s collar lurks the proof of that, as he’s been acutely aware all day. He has to avoid looking at him for a moment—not out of embarrassment, but because if he does, if he sees the heat in Wei Ying’s gaze, he might lose control and kiss him in front of his siblings.

As much as his husband might prefer the distraction, he doubts it will help much.

“I didn’t need to know that, ever,” Jiang Wanyin grouses, making a face.

Jiang Yanli takes her seat again, her face serious.

“A-Xian is in danger?”

Lan Wangji nods.

“The rumors make him out to be a monster raising an army of Wen cultivators, as though he is an enemy. The truth is quite different. The lies Jin Guangshan has spread to imply he disrespects Jiang Wanyin were meant to isolate him. They want the amulet.”

“Wait, what’s this about me not respecting Jiang Cheng?” Wei Ying demands, clearly affronted.

“One of the claims made after Qiongqi Path,” Lan Wangji tells him. “That you were speaking ill of Jiang Wanyin at the Phoenix Mountain hunt.”

Wei Ying looks stunned, and his gaze darts to his brother. He evidently doesn’t like what he sees, his expression shuttering.

“I see,” he says, the words heavy in the air. “And you believed them.”

Jiang Wanyin has the decency to look ashamed.

Jiang Yanli seems at a loss. Lan Wangji suspects she has heard none of this. Had she been aware, he has no doubt the offenders would have regretted speaking ill of Wei Ying.

“Maybe you’re right not to trust me,” Wei Ying murmurs finally. “I’ve lied to both of you.”

The admission startles a flinch from his siblings. Lan Wangji can feel the tension in Wei Ying, like a guqin string stretched too taut, ready to snap at the slightest touch. He reaches for Wei Ying’s hand under the table and places his on top of it. He is relieved when his husband relaxes slightly, a slight tremor running through him.

Wei Ying’s hand, when he laces theirs together, is clammy and cold, his grip tighter than normal. As much as Lan Wangji wishes he could do more, the best he can do is be here for him.

The quiet stretches, seeming to freeze them in time, broken only when A-Yuan asks Wen Ning for another bite of soup.

Jiang Yanli reaches forward, touches Wei Ying’s arm.

“About what, A-Xian?”

She looks concerned and a little afraid, and the same look lurks on Jiang Wanyin’s features. They know, Lan Wangji realizes that Wei Ying has been hiding something, maybe even suspect how terrible it is. Whatever they might imagine, he knows the truth will be much worse.

Wei Ying swallows hard, his fingers tightening. He seems to be trying to find the words, deciding how to say it in a way that might soften the blow.

But there is no way to soften it.

“I didn’t know how to find Baoshan Sanren,” he admits finally.

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The conversation is a lot longer than I expected it to be, and this is a good stopping point, even if it is a bit of a cliffhanger. This went in directions I didn’t always expect, in part because Jiang Yanli is terrifying.

Lan Wangji has feelings about Jiang Cheng. They’re not always the nicest feelings, but he has them regardless. It’s ok, because Jiang Cheng has similar feelings in return.

It might take me a bit to pick this up again. I’m participating in the WangXian Lunar New Year gift exchange, so I’m working on my piece for that and putting my other fics on hold for a little while. Also, the new semester just started, and I’ve probably fielded about 50 emails from panicked students today alone.

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