#but unexpectedly she. she likes talking to Huaisang. she does.

[lilnasxvevo]

Me: Oh man I wanna get back to reading that fic I was reading over my lunch break

Me: …

Me: Dammit that wasn’t a real fic that was one I was imagining in my head

#can someone PLEASE write the lesbian sangcheng with sugar baby Huaisang that I deserve to already have in my life #Jiang Cheng got a sugar baby because her siblings moved away and she’s touch starved and Wei Ying suggested sugaring as a joke #and she was like Ha Ha Very Funny but then like six hours later she was searching ‘how to become a sugar daddy who is a woman’ #Huaisang for her part is in grad school and gets enough money per month from dage for the things she needs but #not enough for the things she WANTS #i have no idea how old Jiang Cheng is in this AU btw. somewhere between late 20s and late 30s I keep changing my mind #the reason she doesn’t just date instead of sugaring is bc she is too busy with work to date anyone properly and also no one likes her #which is fine because she genuinely dislikes almost every person she meets as well #she was expecting the sugaring thing to be a bust because she was expecting to hate everyone who she tried talking to #but unexpectedly she. she likes talking to Huaisang. she does.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Initiative pt 2 - ao3 or tumblr pt 1

It was just typical of his brother, Nie Huaisang thought. He finally, finally, finally found a girl that might suit him, agreed to marry her, and then he spent all his time worrying about…saber.

Typical.

Nie Huaisang volunteered himself to act as the family representative in negotiations with the Jiang sect, seeing as his brother would undoubtedly get them fleeced if he were trying to do it himself – “Try not to be too mercenary, Huaisang. We are the ones in the stronger position, through no fault of theirs.” –  and with one thing or another he arrived at the Lotus Pier less than a week after Jiang Yanli did.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian seemed rather surprised to see him.

“I haven’t had a moment to tell them,” Jiang Yanli said, pressing her head to her forehead and looking a little tired. “They’d just completed the memorial hall, when I arrived.”

“And it’s been nothing but keeping them from fighting ever since?” Nie Huaisang said, not without some sympathy.

Only some, though. If Jiang Yanli couldn’t handle Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, even the grieved and tragic versions of them, what was she going to do the first time his brother went into a rage?

Maybe he was being too cold-blooded. After all, they’d been her parents, too.

“Your arrival is a good thing,” she said, narrowing her eyes a little in satisfaction. “Now they have no excuse to run away from me.”

Nie Huaisang couldn’t help but smile a little at that.

She summoned a few sect disciples, divided them neatly into two groups – one larger than the other – and instructed them to go bring her two recalcitrant brothers to the main hall. “You may use force,” she informed the larger group. “I would advise you that A-Xian is especially weak to tickling around his ribs, and don’t let him scare you off with that Yiling Patriarch stuff. And as for the group going to get A-Cheng – may I suggest looking especially pathetic when you convey the message that his sister, who he left alone for almost the entire war, would really like to see him if he has a moment to spare for her?”

Nie Huaisang’s smile broadened. “Tears,” he added solemnly. “Tears are very good. He hates tears.”

“Just so. Thank you all.”

“My brother is already planning out your saber,” he told her once the disciples had left, and she brightened visibly. “If there’s anything you want to contribute in terms of design, now’s the time – I brought mine in case you want to have a look later on.”

Aituan was in his luggage. Somewhere. His brother had refused to let him leave the Unclean Realm before he’d produced proof of saber, and he hadn’t unpacked since then, so surely it was somewhere.

“I’m sure whatever your brother comes up with will be fine,” she said. “I don’t know anything about weapons.”

A brief hesitation.

“Although, perhaps not – so large…?”

Nie Huaisang decided to be daring. He opened his fan in front of his face and looked at her over it, allowing his eyes to curve up in a smile. “Don’t worry about that – though if all goes well, you’re going to have to accustom yourself to dealing with a large saber at some point in the process.”

She burst out laughing, which was good.

“Nie Huaisang!” Oh, look, Jiang Cheng was here. “What are you saying to my sister? You’d better not be harassing her!”

“What would you do if I was?” Nie Huaisang wondered. “I mean, I’m not, I don’t think, but –”

“Just don’t.”

“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli said. “Be polite. Where’s A-Xian? I have something to tell you both.”

Wei Wuxian came in a few moments later, grumbling and rubbing his ribs but brightening when he saw them all gathered up there, and he slid into place by Jiang Cheng’s side easy as anything even if they did sort of stare awkwardly with quasi-glares, quasi-grimaces at each other first.

And then Jiang Yanli told them why Nie Huaisang was there, and all awkwardness fell away at once so that they could unite in glaring at Nie Huaisang.

“Why are you looking at me for?” he asked. “I’m not the one marrying her, that’s my brother.”

“If you had anything to do with this –” Wei Wuxian started, doing his whole looming-with-the-subtonal-wailing-of-dark-forces Yiling Patriarch thing, but ticklish around the ribs and a summer of nonsense didn’t really do much to encourage fear in Nie Huaisang, who’d never had as much common sense as a regular person ought.

“Oh, no, I objected to it,” Nie Huaisang said breezily. “Your sister doesn’t deserve my brother.”

And that, of course, got them both up in arms even more.

“What’s that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with my sister?” Jiang Cheng shouted, and Wei Wuxian’s aura-of-darkness got even more out of hand as he crossed his arms and glared death. “She’d be a great bride for anyone! Give me one reason –”

“I’m glad to have your support, didi,” Jiang Yanli said, calmly ladling out the soup she’d promised Nie Huaisang as if they were sitting in the midst of a nice breeze instead of a hurricane, and okay, fine, maybe his brother had a point about the importance of things like backbone and patience. “Don’t worry so much. If Nie-er-gongzi is here as his brother’s representative, that must mean he’s accepted the match.”

Or that he was here to sabotage it, but he appreciated her good faith interpretation.

“Please, just Huaisang is fine,” he said, smiling at her. “You’ll be my sister-in-law soon enough, won’t you?”

“We haven’t agreed yet!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed.

“Oh, like your opinion matters,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes. “You know how many people have put good money down on you leaving the Jiang sect in the next three-to-six months?”

That got all of them looking like they’d just been unexpectedly stabbed in the chest, Jiang Yanli included.

“What?” he asked, batting his eyelashes innocently at them. “Did I say something wrong? Everyone knows you aren’t doing anything for the Jiang sect anymore, Wei-xiong. All the rumors says so, and the only reason for that is if you were planning on ditching now that you don’t need them anymore.”

“That’s enough,” Jiang Yanli said, and there was a bit of steel in her voice. “A-Xian isn’t leaving, and even if he was, his opinion on my marriage would still matter to me.”

“That’s one of the reasons I objected,” Nie Huaisang said to her, deciding that she was clearly the only one mature enough to have this extremely necessary discussion with. “Meaning no offense, but in every possible respect, you’re a bad match. If you marry my brother, will you be expecting him to run around defending everything the Yiling Patriarch does whenever he’s in the mood to thumb his nose at the cultivation world? Or paying for the Lotus Pier’s reconstruction costs, even though Jiang-xiong hasn’t made a single overture to our Nie sect in terms of reestablishing trade routes or even just swapping craftsmen for mutual benefit?”

Both Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were positively black in the face.

“Of course, even if you weren’t going to anchor him down with even more political obligations, there’s your personal value,” Nie Huaisang continued, tapping his finger against his cheek. “Word has it that you’re weak and sickly. Who’s to say that you won’t die along with the first child you bear –”

“How dare you talk about my shijie like that!” Wei Wuxian shouted, slamming his hand down on the table, while Jiang Cheng’s Zidian crackled lightning like an overactive firework. “How dare you –”

“And do you still support the marriage, even with all of these disadvantages?” Jiang Yanli asked, holding up her hands to hold her brothers back. Her eyes were a bit wet, but she was otherwise unperturbed, at least on the surface.

“I do, actually,” Nie Huaisang said, pleased. Even if she went to go cry later, which he didn’t think she would, she’d done well enough to pass his personal test of what constituted backbone. “My brother doesn’t care about politics, we have plenty of money, and there’s doctors for the rest of it. If you’re really willing to put in the effort, I’d be happy to call you my sister-in-law.”

Jiang Cheng was hissing like a pot of water on the boil. Wei Wuxian was grinding his teeth.

“I appreciate that,” Jiang Yanli said, disregarding them entirely. “I can promise you that I’ll do my best.”

“Good, good,” Nie Huaisang said, and grinned at her. “There’s only enough room for one useless flower vase in the Nie household, and the position is taken. By me, if that’s not clear. I brought my brother’s eight characters – do you have yours at hand? We can calculate the auspicious date immediately.”

“I still haven’t agreed!” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, and Jiang Yanli reached out to touch his arm lightly. “I haven’t! Jiejie, you don’t have to marry anyone you don’t want to, no matter what good things you think it’d bring to the sect, okay? You should marry for love!”

“Jiang Cheng’s right, shijie,” Wei Wuxian said at once. “You should get anyone you like. Even if you still want that stupid Jin sect peacock, we’d find a way to get him for you.”

Nie Huaisang looked at Jiang Yanli carefully at that one. It was even odds if his brother minded her having some vestigial affections, especially in the beginning, but he himself wouldn’t be having any of that – least of all with a Jin, no matter how much better Jin Zixuan seemed to be than his father.

His brother deserved someone who would put him first, this time.

“No, thank you,” she said without the slightest hesitation, and Nie Huaisang nodded in approval. “Young Master Jin has made his opinion about me clear enough, and not just once. I’m not going to run after him like I think that’s all I’m good for. And anyway, Chifeng-zun is a good man, who you both greatly admire – why can’t I marry him?”

“You can marry anyone you want,” Jiang Cheng said at once.

“And I want to marry him,” she said, and smiled. “At first, yes, it was primarily because he seemed to offer the most advantages for our sect, but…I don’t know. He’s very nice.”

Nie Huaisang mouthed the word ‘nice’ to himself, rolling it around in his mouth like a fine wine. It might be the first time anyone had ever described his brother that way.

“I think I would be happy being married to him,” she concluded. “Even very happy. Will you approve?”

They folded like a stack of cards.

“Oh, I like you,” Nie Huaisang told her, finally but now wholly delighted. “It’ll be good for my brother.”

And it’ll be interesting to see how the Jin sect takes it, he thought with a smirk half-hidden behind his fan. Since you bring the power and influence of whole Jiang sect with you, and the Yiling Patriarch too.

He wouldn’t mention that, of course.

Only an idiot would negotiate against themselves.

#mdzs #jiang yanli #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #my fic #my fics #initative

[persefone88]

10 + 1 Wangxian Recs - Theme Sex Work

I am currently mostly in MDZS (Mo Dao Zu Shi/Grandmaster od Demonic Cultivation) fandom. And fully and wholeheartily shipping Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian. And since I have collected 2000+ Wangxian bookmarks on AO3 I thought it was high time to pick out some of my favourite fics to Recommend. But since it is hard to pic just a few I decided to separate them into themes.

This theme is fics where sex work such as prostitution, camming, porn or sugar daddies is central to the plot.

But rest assured these are fics with little to non actual WWX/Others or LWJ/Others

Impulse Spending by mondengel

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31971652

Summary:Lan Wangji needs some money. Lan Xichen is happy to provide.

All Old Things are New Again by The Feels Whale (miscellea)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32645620

Summary:Full-time necromancer and part-time cam boy, Wei Wuxian, finds himself unexpectedly homeless. An enthusiastic patron comes to his rescue.Conversely:Immortal Cultivator Lan Wangji has been waiting a long time for his deceased husband to be reincarnated again. In retrospect, he should have anticipated that this is how it would go.

For a Good Time, Call by ScarlettStorm

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241559

Summary:The picture is of Wei Ying, that much is clear. It’s of a lot more of Wei Ying than Lan Zhan is used to seeing. He supposes that, technically, Wei Ying is dressed. It’s a bare technicality, since one of Wei Ying’s hands has rucked up his black tank top practically to his collarbone, showing a long expanse of abdomen and one nipple. Sweat beads on his sternum, catching the light like jewels. His other hand is--Lan Zhan feels his eyes widen, as though unable to look away from a train wreck--on his hip, one thumb tugging down the waistband of a pair of red briefs. Wei Ying is biting his lower lip and looking directly into the camera, sultry, his eyes dark and inviting. His erection is obvious, outlined against the red of the briefs and framed carefully with the hand on his hip. Lan Zhan’s brain goes wildly, screamingly blank.Or: Lan Zhan accidentally finds his best friend's OnlyFans account and has an ongoing emotional crisis.

just go with the flow (last thing we should do is go slow) by cakeswrites

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28474443

Summary:Wei WuXian, on the downside of luck and flat fucking broke, takes a stab in the dark by creating a profile on a website looking for a sugar daddy (at the suggestion of Nie Huaisang, because of fucking course this is his idea of helping). He doesn’t expect much beyond the typical grab-assing of gross old men like he’s read about on the net so many times, so it’s the shock of a lifetime when his profile garners the attention of none other than esteemed philanthropist, Lan WangJi. Wei WuXian is skeptical and hesitant - after all what the actual fuck could he have in common with such a fuddy duddy? - but soon finds himself ensconced in a tryst that will knock the wind out of his lungs as he unveils the dark interests lurking just beneath Lan WangJi’s calm surface. Throw in the high society scandal of being the disowned child of the prestigious Jiang clan publicly on the arm of the second master of Lan, and things are getting quickly out of hand.

Temptation's Mask by threerings

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23490808

Summary:Lan Wangji stumbles upon a gorgeous, enchanting, submissive camboy that quickly becomes something of an obsession. But when they run into one another in public, revealing both their identities, will it lead to more?

there's a song that i still hear faintly by TheGirlWithTheKite

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28386201

Summary:Lan Wangji slid open the door, and the usual scent of sandalwood did not greet him. Instead, floral notes came. As he stepped further into his home, he turned towards the incense pit and his breath caught as he saw the person tending to the tea kettle. His hair was pulled back and up onto his head. A large Lan flower headpiece in the center, with pearl tipped pins adorning the sides of the arrangement. His face was mostly kept clear of paints. Pearls hung from his ears, around his neck, and off his wrists. His robes were in a soft Omegan blue with red accents that looked beautiful against his tan skin. But the most beautiful thing was the smile breaking out across his face. “Lan-gege! I did not think you would arrive so soon, or I would have been ready!” Despite the radiant beauty of his face, to where he could have been mistaken for a female Omega, his voice was deep. That of a man. “Lan-er-gege,” Lan Wangji said before he could stop the words from tumbling out his traitorous mouth. “I am the second son.” The Omega blinked and then smiled wildly again. “Alright, Lan-er-gege. You may call this one A-Ying.”

Shared Space by hoarder_of_stories

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31940470

Summary:Lan Wangji hears that Wei Wuxian is going to be evicted from his apartment, and offers him a place to stay. Wei Wuxian has recently started doing online sex work, and worries that this will make things awkward. (He’s right! It does! They’ll figure it out, though.)———“It’s only until I can save up enough and find another apartment,” Wei Ying says apologetically, staring at the pile of boxes in the corner of the cleared-out second bedroom.Lan Wangji grips the reinforced case of his phone hard enough to hurt. He wishes Wei Ying were moving in to stay. He likes the way the messily-packed boxes look in his austere apartment. “Mn,” he says. Don’t worry about it.

Tonal Vibration by Opalsong, Vorvayne_reads (Vorvayne)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25492462

Summary:Long-Haired Twink In Lingerie Does Intense Edging to Bichen’s Latest Dirty Talk Video #ReactionVid #Edging #Selfbondage #Bichen To follow this video you will need: your favourite remote controlled vibrating dildo and a strong ribbon or length of soft rope. OR One too many comments of “tag ur porn” on Lan Wangji’s extremely popular Youtube ASMR channel gets him thinking. Wei Wuxian, a middlingly popular camboy, and long-time fan of Hanguang-jun’s ASMR finds the new smutty dirty talk channel and films his reactions to it.

intrinsic and elemental truths by brawlite

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27311434

Summary:All Wei Ying knows is this: Lan Zhan does cam work. Lan Zhan doesn’t tell him anything else.

Superfan by 74243

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30839138

Summary:“I’m not going to apologize for my job,” Wei Ying said, “so if you want to give me some kind of lecture--”“No,” Lan Zhan said. “You misunderstood. I am...” she paused, as if considering the best way to put it. “I’m a fan.”

how to be a heartbreaker by sweetlolixo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24401746

Summary:“Lan er gege,” Wei Ying sings out an old nickname, his lips curving up into a well-rehearsed smile. It’s adorable, and it’s pretty, and he knows it mesmerises anyone who lays their eyes on him. He has done it a million times—bewitching and convincing men who need to be convinced.He just doesn’t expect to hear the hitch in Lan Zhan’s breath, too, and feel the taller man’s grasp around his wrist tightening.He fell for it.A sickening thought suddenly enters his brain, and Wei Ying wonders if he should be so cruel.“Do you want to find a private space for us, Lan Zhan?”

#mdzs #mdzs fanfiction #fanfiction recommendations #wangxian #fictional sex work

[needtherapy]

soaring, carried aloft on the wind...continued 16

A story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13  Part 2: 14 / 15 / 16 … HOME

It’s complete on AO3 here.

Notes: Check the tags if you’re concerned about the pairings ;)

For translations of the entirely fictitious Beifeng language, you’ll have to scroll to notes. I’m only going to translate something that’s not clear in the text. Sadly, there’s just not any other good way to do it on Tumblr!

Chapter 16 Now

It rains for a week as spring approaches, great sheets of water that turn the Ikarahu camp into rivers of mud. Everyone is miserable, dirty, and fractious. Huaisang and Guangyao get into an argument that ends in shouting, and they stop talking to each other for three days, taking turns complaining to Xichen. Even Mingjue seems altered—pensive and solemn, his boisterous affection distracted by thoughts he doesn’t share. Xichen spends most of his time reading and avoiding people, huddling under blankets by his warm brazier.

But once the storms pass and all the water seeps back into the ground, the end of winter turns sunny and clear, as if the gods are apologizing for their earlier tantrum.

After so many days inside, Xichen welcomes Huaisang’s suggestion of a day’s ride into the foothills to the west of the camp. He’s aware that there is likely a secondary reason for the suggestion—with Huaisang, there is rarely only one reason—but the chance to feel the wind on his face overrides any care he has for Huaisang’s schemes.

They are a larger group than Xichen expected: himself, Huaisang, Guangyao, Qingyang, Titakau, and three guards. But of course they would need guards. Even Huaisang would not be so incautious as to risk their safety, and now that he considers it, three guards seems like fewer than Mingjue would have insisted on. Xichen wonders if Huaisang made his brother aware of his plans.

After only a few minutes of riding, a rolling canter that, on Liebing’s light feet, feels almost as smooth as walking, Xichen slows at the sound of pounding hoofbeats behind them.

“Aurakat! Wingani! Roka eneti di eta hira om ga tega ehi heromu,” Mingjue yells, pulling up his horse in front of Huaisang and forcing him to stop.

“Three soldiers for four people is plenty, anakau,” Huaisang argues. “Unless you think Xichen is incapable of defending himself.”

It is a low blow, and Xichen has to bite his lip to keep from laughing at Mingjue’s consternation.

“I did mention we were having a picnic. What did you think that meant?” Huaisang asks with a flippant smirk.

“Will you come with us, ahoraho?” Xichen asks, distracting Mingjue, who looks ready to tackle Huasiang off his horse. “If you are not too busy?”

With a huff, Mingjue scowls at Huaisang one more time before falling back to join Xichen. They ride in silence for a while, in part because Xichen is at a loss for words. Without the army, without the camp, he’s not sure what to talk about. He has rarely felt awkward around Mingjue, but he suddenly can’t think of a single thing to say. Instead he watches his friends. Qingyang laughs at something Titakau says, and Xichen can see Titakau smiling, even from here. Ahead of them, Huaisang pokes Guangyao in the shoulder and points to something in the distance, the silhouette of a huge eagle eventually gliding into sight, banking above them and heading north, toward the mountains. Guangyao watches the path of the bird until it disappears from sight.

“Poets in my country speak of your land as empty and barren, but I think they have never been here,” Mingjue says suddenly, breaking the silence. “There is beauty in your plains and hills, as there is in our datik.”

Xichen blinks at him, taken aback by Mingjue’s interest in poetry as much as his continued insistence that the mountains of Xichen’s home are mere hills.

Mingjue grins, reading Xichen’s expression. “They are not even covered in snow, Xichen. But tell me, do your poets write of Ikara?”

They do, and Xichen tells him that Ikara is seen as a mystical place, frightful and wild, with giants of men who ravage maidens and warrior women who wield dark magic. Mingjue roars with laughter.

“Xichen, you are kindio touha...more danger...hm...more dangerous...than most of our people. Although I do not know how it is possible. How do your people grow strong drinking the weak tea?”

Xichen pretends to be offended as he explains the supremacy of delicate, aged white tea. After so many months, it is unexpectedly charming to see yet another side of Mingjue. Xichen hadn’t fully appreciated how heavily caring for the well-being of so many people weighs on Mingjue. Within the encampment, Mingjue is always kipakau, always the general. But the further they get from the city of tents, the less he seems like a commander and more like an ordinary man Xichen doesn’t know well enough yet.

They enter a copse of pine trees, and Xichen is subdued by the beauty of this evergreen forest. Even though it is not yet true spring, there is the whisper of wind in the boughs, bird song all around him, and the peace of it inhabits him like home. When they emerge into a clearing on the other side of the woods, a quiet lake with the remains of summer reeds on its shores lays before them. Xichen nearly asks how Huaisang knew it was here, because it is clearly his intended destination.

“Time for lunch!” Huaisang announces as he dismounts, and with an unnecessarily dramatic gesture, he sets up a large flame burning in the grass.

Even with no wood to sustain it, the flame produces heat, fueled by the magic in the air. Xichen and Guangyao exchange a look. It is another reminder of how different Ikarahu magic is, and Xichen wonders how long the fire can last.

The ground is dry, if cold, and they unpack thick wool blankets to sit on. Their three guards’ horses had been carrying baskets of food, all designed to be eaten cold, as well as jars of ale and water, and Xichen is amused at how carefully Huaisang has prepared this adventure.

Huaisang whistles and Kitingi joins them, although she settles on Guangyao’s shoulder, not Huaisang’s, and bites his hair affectionately. He hands her tiny pieces of food he usually has at the ready. Guangyao’s face softens as it always does around Kitingi, and he scratches the top of her head, smoothing her feathers as she eats. Xichen thinks she might prefer Guangyao even to Mingjue these days.

Titakau whispers something to Qingyang, and Qingyang laughs. “I don’t know, auhani. I’ll ask. Why doesn’t she fly away? She isn’t tethered like the other munaku.”

“I feed her too well,” Huaisang jokes, but Mingjue gives her a true answer. “Aurakat only pretends he does not care,” he explains, smirking at Huaisang as though revealing a deep, dark secret, and Huaisang throws a cup at him. “He raised her from a chick. She could leave any time, but she stays for love.”

They finish eating, and then they sword fight. It would have been a strange way to pass the afternoon in the Cloud Recesses, but Huaisang claims to be cold after their meal and challenges his brother to a duel, a match even Xichen has never seen before. It shouldn’t have been a contest, but once they start, it’s obvious that Huaisang has learned from spending his life sparring with Mingjue. He knows every counter to every move, and he even pulls out his kitingi fan as an extra distraction, blocking Kaumadis with hard swipes and spinning the sharp blades of the fan in front of Mingjue’s face. It doesn’t seem likely that he’ll win, but he keeps Mingjue on his toes until Mingjue laughingly dodges a parry and picks Huaisang up, slinging him over his shoulder and depositing him back onto a blanket by Guangyao.

“Enough! You will have me dancing for hours, anati,” he says and looks as though he intends to sit too, but Xichen stands.

“Will you dance with me, ahoraho?” he asks, drawing Sikunadis, and Mingjue’s eyes darken.

Xichen likes that look on Mingjue’s face. He turns his back to the rest of the group, biting his lip and giving Mingjue a private smile he intends to convey just how much. Mingjue shakes his head.

“You do not fight fair, aitapaho,” he complains with a wink.

It is not a serious bout, not in the tall dry grass, and not after Mingjue has already sparred with Huaisang, but Xichen never tires of learning how he can use Sikunadis differently than an ordinary sword. As Huaisang had suspected, the sword responds to his magic, filling like a well, holding the power for as long as necessary and allowing Xichen to recover his strength. And when he pushes in more power than the sword can hold, the release is magnified, a brilliant explosion of darkness and light that can fling even a shielded attacker away.

Xichen would not say he is showing off, but at first, he lets Mingjue take more risks and get closer than usual, leaning back to let Kaumadis glide past his face, flipping sideways to evade strikes, and putting even more speed into his parries. When he realizes Mingjue is tiring, he runs his fingers across the back of Mingjue’s neck as he spins behind him, grinning when Mingjue groans and falters.

He wins against Mingjue easily and far too quickly, only using enough of the power reserves inside Sikunadis to buzz against Mingjue when he tags him on the back first, then the stomach. Mingjue falls to the ground, laughing and raising his hands in defeat. He holds Xichen’s gaze just long enough to promise rewards when they get back to camp, long enough to make Xichen grin foolishly.

“Guangyao? Do you wish to fight with me?” Xichen asks, not wanting to leave anyone out, and Guangyao deliberates before shaking his head.

“I am no expert, and Zewu-Jun is. I might only be able to keep up with Oringa'anhu Ikira,” he says, entirely serious, smiling only when Huaisang realizes he’s been insulted and reacts with mock outrage.

Qingyang declines as well, but to Xichen’s surprise, Titakau agrees to fight, borrowing Huaisang’s sword. She has excellent form and technique, and she is nearly as quick as Xichen. She catches him off guard twice, forcing him to scramble to block. They end the match in a draw, and Xichen compliments her skill. She ducks her head and tells him that her father is a swordsmith, and she has held a sword since she was a baby.

“Ei kamhawa mau peita ei eta ino iro tiato, gani ora anot inko paketau sima auha di Ipira'orhew Ikira. Et paketau di sima eta kipakau,” Titakau says, smiling shyly.

Qingyang translates, “My father was embarrassed when I became a healer, but now he is so proud that I am in service to Ipira'orhew Ikira. Everyone is proud to serve the crown prince.” With a quick grin that lights her eyes, Qingyang adds, “I am as well, you know.”

Mingjue makes a sound of dismissal and shakes his head, but he’s smiling. There is a thoughtful crease in Guangyao’s eyebrows for a split second before Kitingi leaps off of his shoulder with a sudden scream, flapping high into the air and wheeling to dive into the nearby underbrush. Huaisang and Guangyao follow her to see if she snared whatever she was hunting.

Xichen is curious about which part of Titakau’s words intrigued Guangyao, but he lets the thought go when Mingjue wraps a blanket around him and kisses Xichen’s cheek, sitting next to him with a sigh. Xichen pulls Mingjue’s hand under the blanket and rubs his thumb over Mingjue’s knuckles, leaning against him to absorb his warmth. He wonders what his father or brother would think of how easily he shows and accepts affection like the Ikarahu. He had never minded the formal distance his family kept in the Cloud Recesses. It had felt respectful and unintrusive. But now he craves the simplest touch; there is a space inside him that can never be full enough. Wangji would probably look away in embarrassment, he thinks. Or, remembering the look on Wangji’s face when he talked about his archer, maybe not. He can’t hide his smile and he decides not to ruin his day by thinking about what his father’s reaction might be. Perhaps he is an unfilial son, but he is glad his father will never have the chance to disapprove.

Guangyao and Huaisang finally retrieve a chattering Kitingi from the bush clutching a finch in her claws, and somehow, they are arguing. It’s only been minutes, and Xichen can’t understand how they’ve already found something to disagree about.

“An ambush will not work,” Guangyao says as they rejoin the group, unhooking the two birds and setting the little finch free. “I don’t care if your hawk is always successful. You’ve been camped outside of Jinlin Tai for months. They know you’re here.”

“That’s why it will work, Guangyao,” Huaisang explains, patient to the point of condescension. “They expect us to continue the siege or bring the whole army. We’ve tried waiting patiently. A frontal assault will result in too many casualties. Perhaps we need a different strategy.”

Guangyao’s eyes narrow, and he frowns. “Perhaps you should stop pestering them entirely.”

Huaisang’s grin is swift and careless, but his voice softens. “You know we won’t. Perhaps they should give in.”

Xichen wonders if they realize how obvious it is that they aren’t only talking about Jinlin Tai anymore.

Notes: Aurakat! Wingani! Roka eneti di eta hira om ga tega ehi heromu. = Aurakat! You idiot! This is not enough men for safety.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #soaring au #nielan #nie mingjue #lan xichen #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #sangyao #luo qingyang #complete on ao3

[enbyleighlines]

I'd love to see interactions between Wen Qing and Nie Huaisang in your modern au, with or without Jiang Cheng being present. Just curious about how the poly dynamics settle.

Ooooh, yes! This is a great prompt! Thank you so much for the suggestion, anonymous~

—

Nie Huaisang stands at the foot of a cement staircase. They lead to a rather ornate door, which is far fancier than the apartment building it’s attached to.

This is Nie Huaisang’s first time in this part of town. They double-check the address on the mailbox to the one they’ve scribbled down on a piece of scrap paper. The numbers match. Nie Huaisang has successfully found Wen Qing’s place of residence.

Nie Huaisang does not feel particularly accomplished. The dominant emotion in their chest at the moment is panic. Their anxiety keeps them rooted in place, as though their black flats are somehow glued to the sidewalk. This frozen state is so strong that it prevents Nie Huaisang from acting on their impulse to flee the scene.

There isn’t any rational reason to be afraid. Or so Nie Huaisang tells themself.

Wen Qing invited them here. Wen Qing is a rational woman. Wen Qing sounded perfectly reasonable when she talked to them on the phone. Hence, it is very unlikely that she will attempt to stab Nie Huaisang to death with a kitchen knife.

But they are dating the same man, and jealousy can do weird things to the human brain. Nie Huaisang knows that all too well. Though their friendship with Wei Wuxian is entirely platonic, Nie Huaisang has been a repeat target of Lan Wangji’s icy stare of death. It just goes to show that love is irrational.

So Nie Huaisang is stuck in limbo. They said they would come, so backing out now might only add fuel to the fire of Wen Qing’s anger. But it’s hard to climb stairs when one is chilled to the bone with fear.

It’s an unpleasant state of being. Nie Huaisang considers the possibility of being stuck there forever.

Then the ornate door opens.

Wen Qing stands in the threshold, one hand on her hip. She’s in casual wear— sweatpants on the bottom, and a simple tank and flannel cardigan combo on top. Her hair is in a lop-sided bun, too. It’s the kind of outfit that says, ‘I’m determined to enjoy the hell out of my day off.’

Nie Huaisang can respect that.

“Are you going to come in?” Wen Qing asks with a quirked brow, “I’m brewing some coffee, if that helps.”

“Coming!” Nie Huaisang says.

—

Besides the coffee brewer, the kitchen is eerily silent. Nie Huaisang sits at the small table at the window. It has a nice view of the street outside, and the park down the block, if one cranes their head enough to look for it.

The kitchen itself is small and cluttered, but there’s obviously a method to the madness. Any papers and books are stacked neatly, and the knick-knacks are evenly spaced throughout the room. It’s the kind of space that would look far more organized if only the room were larger.

Wen Qing leans against the counter. She is watching the coffee drip, as the carafe slowly fills.

It is just as awkward as Nie Huaisang feared it would be.

Then Wen Qing says, “I suppose I should preface this with the fact that, as hard as it is to believe, I’m not a jealous person. I’ve never been much interested in commitment when it comes to dating. I prefer keeping things casual.”

Nie Huaisang blinks at her.

“Obviously, that didn’t happen with Jiang Cheng,” Wen Qing continues, “I didn’t mean to catch feelings, but here we are. So that’s what I’m struggling with.”

Nie Huaisang thinks about that. But, to be honest, they don’t quite understand. “You... don’t want to love him?”

The word ‘love’ has a strange effect on Wen Qing. She unexpectedly reverts from a confident young woman to a self-conscious schoolgirl in her body language. “Oh,” she says, fiddling with a loose strand of hair, “I... we haven’t been calling it love. Not yet.”

Now that’s also perplexing. Nie Huaisang has never understood the tendency for some people to tiptoe around the L word.

“But that’s neither here nor there,” Wen Qing speaks up, after gathering her composure, “I asked you to come over because I want to make a selfish request, and it has to be done face to face.”

“What selfish request?” Nie Huaisang asks. This conversation is not going the way they had anticipated at all, and now curiosity is replacing fear.

Wen Qing sighs. It’s appropriately dramatic, and Nie Huaisang approves.

“Originally,” Wen Qing admits reluctantly, “I had intended to step aside, as soon as it became apparent that the two of you were compatible.”

Nie Huaisang can’t help it; they gasp.

“I thought it would be best,” Wen Qing explains, “Jiang Cheng cares about me, but our relationship needs are very different. I need time to be alone, to be able to think and focus on my work. Jiang Cheng wants someone to dote on; he likes to feel needed. He will swear up and down that he’s fine with our relationship being casual, but I think he’s just too stubborn to admit we’re not as compatible as he’d like to believe.”

Nie Huaisang listens attentively. A flurry of emotions beats against their chest. It’s hard to identify them individually. “So,” they say, “you intend to... break up with him?”

“That’s where the selfish part comes into play.” Wen Qing rubs the back of her neck, grumbling incoherently to herself for a moment. “I hate to say this,” she tells them, “but I don’t think I can bear breaking up with him. Like I said before, I didn’t intend to catch feelings. But I did. And maybe the rational response is to nip this in the bud now, but... I also want to see if we can make it work, despite the odds.”

“Ahh.” Nie Huaisang is not stupid, although they like to pretend. They can see where this is going. “You want to try out a poly relationship.”

Wen Qing nods.

“I’m just confused about one thing,” Nie Huaisang says, “I... I just kind of assumed that’s what we were already doing?”

Wen Qing snorts. “Ah, well, unofficially.... yes. But Jiang Cheng and I still call ourselves casual, and you’ve only been dating him a couple of weeks. So it’s not like either of us have been going steady — as the kids would say — with him.”

That earns a giggle from Nie Huaisang. “That’s true,” they admit.

“I think you two are a great match,” Wen Qing says, seemingly out of nowhere, “I’ve seen the way Jiang Cheng lights up when he talks about you. You’re... well, don’t take this personally, but you’re kind of high maintenance.”

Nie Huaisang is not offended. They laugh and mime fanning themself like a Southern belle. “That’s fair.”

“Like I said earlier, Jiang Cheng likes to feel needed. You make him feel needed.”

“Mm.” Nie Huaisang nods thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve also noticed that. Jiang Cheng grumbles and gripes whenever someone asks him for a favor, but it puts a little extra spring in his step. And he absolutely blows his top if I ask someone else for a favor instead of him.”

Wen Qing smiles warmly. There’s affection lighting up her eyes as she says, “He’s the same way with me. If I go too long without asking him for a favor, he just starts offering to do things for me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Nie Huaisang murmurs. Like cooking popcorn, wicked, wonderful ideas are suddenly bounding around inside their brain.

The coffee machine makes a horrid gurgling sound as it finishes its long and arduous process of filling the carafe. Wen Qing busies herself with preparing them both a mug. She also puts out cream and sugar on the table, though she makes no move to put either in her own cup.

Nie Huaisang, in contrast, is very generous in adding cream and sugar to their coffee.

“So,” Wen Qing says, “Are you okay with trying out a poly relationship? Of course, we’ll have to iron out all the details with Jiang Cheng present. But first, I wanted to make sure that it’s something that you’d be open to.”

Nie Huaisang doesn’t have to think about it. “Of course,” they answer, “On one condition.”

“Oh?”

Here, Nie Huaisang allows themself to be a little mischievous. “Poly relationships rely on complete honesty from all parties, right?”

“Yes?”

Nie Huaisang nods sagely. They channel every villain role they’ve ever wanted to play as they say, “Then, in that case, you need to be honest about your feelings for Jiang Cheng, in front of Jiang Cheng.”

Wen Qing stares at him blankly. Then, realization starts to creep in.

“You have to use the L word.”

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs modern au #asks #anon #anonymous #drabbles #leigh’s writing

[bloodgarnet]

MDZS Original Mystery Fic Idea

So I came up with this idea for a mystery plot since I was so impressed with all the fic until I read the novel and realised most of it was just minor alterations on canon :/// (still impressive though). I got pretty far in the outline before I realised it would need a lot of minor character interactions and cultural knowledge which I respectively can’t be bothered with and don’t know shit about lol. The premise was also meant to have a lot of happy trolling WWX but most of the scenes turned out pretty serious… There’s probably a 99% chance I’m never going to write this so posting it publicly as free real estate.

Tags: Case Fic, Memory Alteration, Mystery, Plot Heavy, Romance, True Love

Title: Fortune’s Memory OR One Thousand Worries (*from Chinese proverbs)

Summary: Wei Wuxian successfully manages to convince everyone that he is Mo Xuanyu… through absolutely no merit of his own.

Prologue: WWX reflects after his resurrection that even if MXY forgot to state his wishes, he still did a pretty good job—after all, with a totally untested ritual from the branch of cultivation that he invented, who knows how many things could have gone wrong. /foreboding

WWX’s wrist held by LWJ as JC and he argue. Unexpectedly, JC says this is giving him a headache and decides to leave (jin ling says you too, uncle? JC like you ARE my headache, child). LWJ says WWX is coming with him to gusu but WWX argues it and says he doesn’t want to go to such a place with LWJ, whose eyes go cloudy and he suddenly releases WWX, confused. They part ways, but WWX wonders what the heck just happened—unexpectedly lucky! He’s still interested in all the weird things happening though and decides to meet up with wen ning elsewhere.

Meanwhile, LWJ inexplicably feels a profound sense of loss.

JC goes back to Yunmeng with Jin Ling and has trouble remembering things. He tries to recall the culprit of the ghost general incident but can’t picture his face. He tries to scold jin ling but can’t remember what for; jin ling also has trouble remembering. He tells jin ling to go to his room and if he wants sympathy, go to his mother for that. Jin ling freezes and says what are you even talking about. Jiang Cheng blacks out as jin ling screams.

Lan Xichen talks to Jin Guangyao about how both Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang have come down with a mysterious illness which affects their memory—possibly a targeted curse at clan leaders, though perhaps a small smattering of rogue cultivators have also been affected. Sadly, it has even affected the Jin heir, Jin Ling, though his is a bit better. JGY reflects since it’s the opposite way, it can’t be the strength of his golden core but rather maybe his youth that makes him resistant as some spells operate that way. LXC thanks him for the advice and worries that LWJ was recently in contact with JC and JL. JGY comments that these unexpected events are the most dangerous.

WWX meets up with wen ning and they discuss what to do: he frees wen ning from chains and needles and says he could go live life if he wants, but WWX is interested in the ghost arm incident. They get wen ning a disguise and hear from locals that nie huaisang and JC have come down sick. WWX frowns and wonders about the current political climate, who knows how many people would want to take down the sect leaders. Then he hears that LWJ is possibly also ill and feels really bad about it for some reason—that’s what makes him decide to investigate himself, putting this over the ghost arm incident. Wen ning asks how to do that and WWX says they need information now more than anything—they must prepare for the upcoming conference which will discuss what is happening.

JGY attends the conference and notices a strange bird outside. He’s seconds away from touching it when LXC calls him and it flies off. They go inside and discuss the potential epidemic; LXC confesses LWJ seems to show preliminary signs but Clarity seems to be helping him remain stable for now. They discuss it’s potential as a contagious epidemic and agree to have healers share findings as well as a group of famed Lan healers (?) visit the other sects with a small entourage in order to compare patients directly. JGY notes that this subject has totally eclipsed the issue of the ghost hand, which tried to escape Gusu Lan but was caught at the barrier with no casualties but many injuries. Also JC has woken and has a clean slate memory and just seems to be much happier??? They decide to keep the whole thing quiet from the public for now to prevent panicking. Conference ends with JGY accidentally revealing that he’s forgotten something important, so he’s infected too, to LXC’s shock. The bird flies away.

Wwx discusses the situation with wen ning at a restaurant (where wen ning is like thank god my tastebuds are dead lol). Wwx says that the situation is bad but not killing anyone so far which is good. Explains to wen ning that the healers probably know this but it can’t be an epidemic because it hasn’t spread enough; it’s far more likely a targeted attack since it’s really only affecting important people. Lan Sizhui and Jingyi enter the restaurant and WWX hides his face by faceplanting in his noodles lol. WWX and wen ning eavesdrop on their plans to escort the healers back from Nie territory to Gusu Lan, noting that LWJ may have gotten worse in the time they were gone. WWX worries and decides he needs to steal a jade token, but for now they have a convenient target for a little spy.

Sizhui and Jingyi report to LXC with the healers who explain that it IS contagious, a qi transmitted virus, but only from the carrier—likely only one since it hasn’t spread far: so it must be someone who has come into contact with all of the people affected fairly recently. Also it seems like an imbalance of energies causing qi deviation. Sizhui reflects this will be hard since the victims don’t remember anything. LXC says that’s somewhere to start, though, and gets disciples/servants to fetch LWJ from seclusion since it’s not contagious. LWJ joins (sizhui happy!) and says that his illness has not progressed at all. LWJ says that the number of potential carriers is too many but to retrace his steps he might as well seek out the rest of the ghost hand’s body as the hand has conveniently pointed in that direction. Sizhui and Jingyi volunteer to go with him along with some other junior disciples; justification that it can be a low-stress learning exercise if nothing else(?) which is what LWJ was doing originally. Then takes out his sword and strikes down the hidden bird which was trying to steal his token – LXC marvels that LWJ broke a rule (no killing) but LWJ says the bird was already dead.

WWX says, “Shit.” WWX talks to wen ning and says that chasing the hand’s body now is dangerous since LWJ will be there—he wants to investigate the victims too in case there’s a demonic element but has an inexplicable bad feeling. Laughs off concerns about memory because his has always been bad. WWX says that his expertise in this area is lacking though and what they really need is a healer who knows about demonic cultivation and wouldn’t run on sight… oh. Wen Ning is like I mean. WWX like would she kill us?? Hmm. They head to Yiling Burial Mounds.

Dead bird makes everyone realise it’s related to demonic cultivation

Filler scene…? Maybe LWJ POV? Tiger seal? Body parts?

Sizhui and Jingyi realise that someone LWJ met right before this happened (along with JL and JC) is MXY, so they should find him!

Wwx and wen ning arrive at the burial mounds and talk while wwx makes chenqing 2 (joke that’s a JC name! But I can’t think of one now lol). He uses it to summon wen qing with inquiry and ask her about it. She says it’s hard to say but given that no one’s died, it may not even be intentional, maybe just a side effect or symptom of something else. WWX says since there’s no change in political power. It does weaken the sects affected temporarily but a widespread attack like this isn’t so good tactically so it could fit. Wen Qing says she’d need to examine a victim herself but would need a body for that and hers is long gone. WWX like wait you would be okay with me getting yours back? Also idk how to do that?? He explains the ritual he used to come back and she frowns. WWX like to accomplish what you suggest would need more power than I currently have in this body… perhaps by repurposing the tiger seal???

And this is where I stopped because I legit can’t remember what happened to the tiger seal at this point in canon. Probably something about Xue Yang but I skipped over his chapters because I wasn’t interested lol. Since there wasn’t really a point to bringing Wen Qing back, I imagine their plan fails but it brings them into the fold with the other characters, and she stays a ghost and has a tearful goodbye with WN at some point near the end or something. Also having to figure out exactly how the whole Nie Mingjue thing would fall apart with both Nie Huaisang and JGY incapacitated, as well as the whole Qin Su thing... blah. Wanted to change the dead bird thing since I was annoyed at myself for copying a fandom trope but couldn’t think of anything better.

Basically the points I wanted to reach were:

Sizhui and Jingyi note that the spell reveals your ‘true colours’ lol

WWX is eventually caught and interrogation reveals that he also has the virus even tho he has a very weak golden core and they realise he must be a demonic cultivator; some pity because he seems so happy without memories of abuse (his happy antics are even kind of familiar... hmm)

Full clarification that WWX is the virus carrier: it’s a golden core imbalance caused by the imperfect resurrection which infectiously causes qi deviation for people who come into contact with his demonic cultivation and triggered by emotional upheaval which is why JC gets the full thing IMMEDIATELY lol

WWX was trolling at first but then actually DOES forget everything (caused by something with LWJ? Maybe a gay panic lol), but still knows his shit and explains that if it’s an imbalance then the opposing yang/yin energy must be demonic in nature so they should just huff a demonic seal or something lol

^ political statement that demonic cultivation isn’t evil, just ~opposite~

Jin Ling has recovered a bit and says he will talk to MXY but is like wait that’s… not him?? like yes I know he forgot everything but it’s really, really Not Him???

Interrogation of JGY’s spotty memory leads to deduction of what scrolls of WWX’s MXY learnt—body sacrifice and summoning

The cure is demonic energy + confessing your sins and being happy you fucks

And then like the one scene I actually had in mind when I wrote this: WWX confused but yelling MXY is not my name!!! And LWJ, on the brink of forgetting everything, still says, “Wei Ying,” recognising him immediately despite everything. Much shock, so drama.

#mdzs #wangxian #fanfic idea #not writing this though

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1

- Chapter 2 -

The sayings of Wen Mao were not exactly what Nie Mingjue would consider to be entertaining reading, but he put in the effort to learn them in the hope that it would explain something about the people around him. They were always speaking in significant tones and looking at each other, finding meaning in the spaces between words, and he felt as though he was falling further and further behind in understanding what they meant.

“- be beheaded for tens of thousands to revile,” he murmured, staring down at the words with a frown. It seemed straightforward enough at first glance, but surely it couldn’t mean what it said, not with how Wen Ruohan regularly behaved. “Wen-da-gongzi?”

Wen Xu twisted to look at him.

“This particular saying – the one about people who oppress others and do evil using the power of their clan –”

“You’re still reading that old thing?” Wen Xu asked, sounding exasperated. “Why? Haven’t you memorized it yet?”

“I can recite it,” Nie Mingjue said. “But I don’t think I understand it. Aren’t these sayings supposed to serve as a guide for behavior for the Wen sect? Take this saying. It can’t be right. I mean, your father is always going around doing things on the basis of his sect and clan having the most power. So is the nuance in the definition of ‘oppress others using the power of your clan’, maybe, or possibly in the interpretation of what’s being defined as ‘evil’? Or is there some other –”

“No one listens to those sayings,” Wen Xu said. “Haven’t you figured that out yet? There’s the rules on paper and then there’s the rules in reality, and only the latter matter.”

“But then why have the rules on paper at all?” Nie Mingjue asked, utterly baffled. The Nie sect didn’t have sayings, like the Qishan Wen sect, nor rules, like Gusu Lan; it had principles, basic ones, and everything else in the world could be debated based on how those principles interacted with reality. It was simple and straightforward, yet allowed for a certain degree of independent thinking and flexibility: as long as you could account for your behavior with one of the principles, the action was generally considered acceptable; if you couldn’t, you knew you had done wrong. “If they’re not being used, then they’re hardly worth the paper they’re written on. Just replace them with new ones!”

“Knowing the sayings of Wen Mao is our tradition.”

Nie Mingjue frowned, turning the words over in his mind and trying to understand what he was missing. “So the tradition is to know the sayings but not follow them?” he hazarded. It seemed utterly bizarre to him. “That’s very complex. Is the idea to teach people to think for themselves?”

Wen Xu laughed – the first instance of that that Nie Mingjue had heard, and it didn’t sound quite right, sounding less like a laugh and more like a strangled noise that echoed in the ear in a manner not unlike the yelp of an injured dog. “You’re getting further away, not closer,” he told him. “Just – do as you’re told, all right?”

Nie Mingjue was trying.

He attended the classes and did his best to excel in them. He maintained his training even when the Wen sect techniques didn’t work quite as well for the saber as Nie sect techniques. He took care of Nie Huaisang, ensuring as much as possible that he did the best he could in both classes and training.

He didn’t grieve for his father out in public where people could see, keeping his pain to the late hours of the night, when his weakness could not be used to hurt his family and sect.

It would all be so much easier if they just told him what they wanted.

-

It was another few weeks after the Wen cousins joined them that Wen Ruohan finally decided to attend one of the dinners himself, sweeping in unexpectedly to seat himself at the head of the room.

The start of the meal was as silent as a Gusu Lan banquet. Everyone had recently started talking a little more during meals, probably as a courtesy to the two of them since Nie Huaisang couldn’t stop running his mouth about everything and mealtime was the ideal place to catch Nie Mingjue up on everything he’d done that day, but now it was as if that had never happened, everyone reverting to the silent and gloomy atmosphere the meals had all had at the beginning.

At first, Nie Mingjue thought it was silence out of respect for the food, like it was for the Gusu Lan, or maybe just the quelling presence of an elder, but after a while Wen Ruohan finished serving himself, and then he looked down at them and began asking questions.

Nie Mingjue’s father had done the same, sometimes, but where he’d asked questions about their studies and training and general well-being, about their friends or their hobbies, wanting to know more about what interested them, Wen Ruohan seemed instead to take vicious pleasure in quizzing them all on various hypotheticals, testing their intelligence and retention and ability to deliver an answer on the spot.

Nie Mingjue was able to answer the questions directed at him, and Nie Huaisang lucked out in the first round – it was a question about poetry, moderately obscure but at least something Nie Huaisang actually knew – and the others were able to answer theirs as well, but in the second round Nie Huaisang was not so lucky and he got a question on sword forms.

“I – don’t know?” he said, sinking down a little in his chair.

All the other Wen children averted their eyes, except for Wen Xu whose eyes went vacant as if he were deliberately forcing himself not to really watch even as he did not turn his head away. A cruel smile played around Wen Ruohan’s lips. “How – disappointing,” he said, though his tone was far from disappointed. More like anticipatory. “You will need to be punished, of course.”

“For what?” Nie Mingjue interjected, forcing his voice to remain level and disinterested. “Not knowing the answer, or missing the logical fallacy in the question?”

Dead silence.

He looked up and met Wen Ruohan’s eyes.

-

“When you said I could practice on you, I didn’t think you meant that you’d be throwing yourself into trouble,” Wen Qing scolded. Her hands were shaking as she wrapped bandages around his chest and back, but that was fine – he didn’t actually think he needed bandages, since the bleeding had stopped, but it was, in fact, good practice for her so he didn’t say anything about it.

“If I didn’t interfere, he would have punished Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said instead. Wen Ruohan had actually given him a choice: three strikes with the whip for Nie Huaisang, for failure to answer, and two for himself, for insolence, or else ten for himself alone.

He’d chosen the latter, of course.

“He knows he’s your weakness now, you know,” Wen Xu said, standing by the door watching. Wen Chao, Nie Huaisang, and Wen Ning were all behind him, Nie Huaisang sniffling and Wen Ning biting his nails and Wen Chao’s tense shoulders up high by his ears. “He’ll use him against you.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged, then stopped when Wen Qing poked at him. “It’s not like it would be hard to guess,” he said. “And our teachers would have told him that we were close anyway. If he was always going to know, what does it matter to tell him?”

“Aren’t you worried about him knowing?” Wen Chao burst out. “Not that you care about Huaisang, but that you’re stupid over it – he’ll think less of you because of it. It’ll make it harder to avoid disappointing him in the future.”

The way he looked at Nie Mingjue’s back made clear what being ‘disappointing’ would entail.

“If it’s a choice between suffering pain and having to hold myself distant, I’d pick pain every time,” Nie Mingjue said, then smiled ruefully. “I’m not smart enough to play the mind games of Qishan, A-Chao; I’d only ever trip myself up even trying. I’ll find my own way to survive.”

Wen Chao turned away from him.

“You’d better,” Wen Ning suddenly said, his reedy little voice unexpectedly fierce. “You’d better survive.”

“He will,” Nie Huaisang said, and he was a little fierce, too. “He will.”

-

The cultivation styles of Qishan Wen and Qinghe Nie were not that different, even if the Nie used the saber and the Wen the sword, and Nie Mingjue had always had something of a genius for cultivating. Although he had suffered a setback at the death of his father, he was young and unwillingly resilient; once he was properly settled in at the Nightless City, he began to progress quickly once more, earning the praise of his tutors and teachers alike.

It drove Wen Xu up the wall.

“What’s the use of having extra years or height,” he snarled, viciously kicking a practice dummy, “if you match up to me so quickly? If we spar and I lose and he sees…”

It was not necessary for him to identify who ‘he’ was.

Nie Mingjue looked at Wen Xu, feeling helpless. “If I pulled my strikes, he would know,” he said, and Wen Xu jerked as if he’d been struck by lightning.

“You can’t say something like that!” he hissed. “That was almost an offer!”

Nie Mingjue was out of his depth again. “No, it wasn’t,” he said, and Wen Xu relaxed a little. “I was explaining why it wouldn’t make sense for me to offer –”

“You’re hopeless,” Wen Xu declared, scowling. “Don’t you have enough trouble, without drawing more on your head?”

“My shoulders can bear the weight of a little trouble,” Nie Mingjue said with a shrug. “Besides, you have the harder hill to climb. I’m only his ward, not his son, after all, and anyway I only want him to leave me alone, while you want to impress him. If it costs me nothing, why shouldn’t I help you?”

Wen Xu was silent for a moment. “Some things will never be more than dreams,” he finally said, shaking his head, and Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure of what part of his statement he was reacting to. “Do you train outside of the regular hours?”

Nie Mingjue blinked at the abrupt subject change. “Yes,” he said. “I like to train in the mornings, before breakfast, and I meditate with Nie Huaisang in the afternoons. Would you like to join in?”

“I don’t see that I have much choice,” Wen Xu said, although for once he didn’t seem especially resentful about it. “It’s one thing not to have as much talent, that’s the disposition of the heavens, but not putting as much effort? Now that would be beneath me.”

Nie Mingjue nodded, understanding. “I’d be happy to have your company.”

“I don’t understand how you just say things like that,” Wen Xu muttered nonsensically, and stalked off before Nie Mingjue could tell him that he probably didn’t need to bother with coming to the afternoon sessions, since those weren’t really about his cultivation.

Instead, he put Nie Huaisang on his lap and helped guide his brother’s feeble qi through a full rotation, meridian by meridian. The doctors of Qinghe had helped put together this routine to strengthen Nie Huaisang, to empower his too-weak musculature and help build his foundation piece by piece so that he could one day create the golden core with his own efforts, even if they were weaker than most. It was time-consuming and exhausting for Nie Mingjue, who had to deal with trying to direct spiritual energy that wasn’t his own through an exceedingly complex sequence, and Nie Huaisang had complained about it being boring when they were back in Qinghe.

He didn’t complain now, though Nie Mingjue sometimes wished he would. It would make things feel more normal.

Nie Mingjue explained what he was doing to Wen Xu when he showed up, and to Wen Chao and Wen Ning and even Wen Qing when they unexpectedly appeared as well, but they all decided to sit in the little garden he’d found and meditate alongside him anyway.

“It’s a nice place,” Wen Chao mumbled, not looking at him. “And you don’t own it.”

Wen Qing shoved him. He shoved back.

“Of course not,” Nie Mingjue said, breaking them up with his hands, a little puzzled. “You and your cousins do. But if you find it peaceful and conductive to your meditation, you are welcome to stay.”

He wasn’t sure how quiet they really found it – he’d been born with his nose stuck in other people’s business and couldn’t help but offer unsolicited advice whenever he saw something that he thought could be improved, telling Wen Ning to prioritize finding his calm over any specific technique, walking Wen Chao through breathing exercises he thought would suit him better, showing Wen Qing the pressure points that could be pressed to help induce relaxation, even making small suggestions to improve Wen Xu’s form that mostly got glares and eye-rolls – but they came back every day.

-

Wen Ruohan attended dinner with them again only a week after the previous time, asking new questions and letting his eyes linger on Nie Mingjue and the way his actions were slower than usual, a smile curling his lips at the involuntary flinch Nie Mingjue gave when he twisted to respond to a question with a demonstration.

Wen Xu had advised Nie Mingjue to play up the injury, rather than try to deny or suppress it, in order to give the impression that he was nearer to his limits than he really was, a stratagem designed to reduce future injury, but Nie Mingjue had never really known how to dissemble.

He answered the questions directed at him with his tone a little short but carefully near to neutral, keeping his eyes down in what could be seen as respect. Perhaps Wen Ruohan found his little rebelliousness entertaining, but the questions didn’t seem that bad this time, and everyone was able to come up with something to satisfy him, even Nie Huaisang who grimaced and strained himself to recall the most basic concepts and Wen Ning who knew the answers but stuttered so badly in Wen Ruohan’s presence that he could barely utter them aloud.

When dinner was done, Wen Ruohan asked Nie Mingjue to touch his toes and laughed at him when he couldn’t, pushing his head down to ‘help’ his inferior flexibility and tearing the few marks the whip had torn into his skin open again as he did.

“Do better, next time,” he said, and left without demanding any other exhibition of talent.

“There’s a discussion conference coming up soon,” Wen Xu said, looking down at his mostly unfinished plate. Noodles, as always, with pork and vegetables in a sauce, pungent but not as spicy as Yunmeng, served alongside a too-thick lambs’ blood soup and delicate side dishes that were more appearance than taste; it was the usual food they got, and most of the time they all ate it quite happily. “He’ll be busy for a while, preparing for that.”

“Could you show me where the kitchens are?” Nie Mingjue asked instead of anything else. “I have the sudden desire for barbecue.”

Qinghe used more salt than Qishan and applied spices in a different fashion, focusing more on the savory meat and evoking sour flavors using vinegar; it took them the three incense sticks to teach the cooks how to prepare it, but that meant that by the time the food was ready they’d all regained their appetites.

“Aren’t there medical cuisines, too?” Wen Ning asked Wen Qing, slurping up the thick noodles that Qishan people apparently couldn’t do without but which at least were swimming in a proper soup for once. “To strengthen the muscles, replenish the blood, that sort of thing.”

“There are,” she said, looking thoughtful. “I’ll ask my teachers about it.”

“Can I come?” Nie Huaisang asked, and it was so unexpected for him to ask to take more classes that Nie Mingjue dropped the piece of meat he’d been dipping right into the sauce. “Hey, food is good! How boring can a class on food be?”

“I’m always willing to encourage your interest in things,” Nie Mingjue said, and everyone laughed at him even though he was being sincere. “I’m sure you’ll be an excellent chef someday, Huaisang, if that’s what you like.”

“You’re just calculating whether wielding a kitchen knife still counts as cultivating,” Wen Xu said with a smirk, which of course meant that Nie Mingjue held out his hands and pointed out that the Nie were butchers, after all, and that in turn made Nie Huaisang start complaining that cooking and butchering weren’t the same thing in the slightest. Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and Wen Chao laughed at each of them equally, adding unhelpful comments all the while.

By the time they went to their afternoon lessons, it was as if Wen Ruohan hadn’t been there at all.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wen xu #wen chao #wen qing #wen ning #my fic #my fics

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

- Chapter 8 -

A small group of sects unexpectedly announced that they wanted Wen Ruohan to adjudicate a boundary line dispute – some were affiliated with the Jiang sect, others with the Jin, and they wanted a neutral party. Wen Ruohan was pleased, even smug, that they had chosen him rather than the Lan sect, which with its righteous reputation was more typically called upon to mediate for the other sects.

“Maybe none of them have a good argument,” Nie Huaisang mused. “They’re all awful, and they want someone more self-absorbed than either side to broker something out.”

“Not everyone is awful, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said, tucking the blankets around him. “Most people are good. Besides, there are some pretty renowned sects involved, so even if it’s true, you shouldn’t say it.”

Nie Huaisang heaved a sigh. “But da-ge –”

“Time for medicine,” Nie Mingjue said firmly, and lifted the bowl to his lips.

Nie Huaisang had a mild case of food poisoning, causing a stomachache, vomiting and a low-grade fever – Wen Qing had determined that it wasn’t infectious, but also, rather grimly, figured out that the source of the illness was most likely a particular treat that Nie Huaisang had generously shared with both her and Wen Chao, and sure enough they were both bedridden less than a day later. Luckily, Wen Qing had had enough time to boil the base for the medicine they needed, and while he wasn’t at her level, much less the now-absent Wen Ning’s, even Nie Mingjue could follow directions well enough to add the final ingredients right before serving.

(Even Wen Zhuliu, who remained Wen Chao’s bodyguard despite their best efforts, had fallen ill, except his version had been significantly worse – more or less non-stop emissions out both ends, and out of self-preservation Nie Mingjue had insisted that he remain in the servants’ quarters far away from all of them.)

Nie Huaisang finished drinking the medicine, making a face that only went away when Nie Mingjue stuffed something sweet into his mouth to help get rid of the taste. “Will you be all right helping out?”

“Of course I will,” Nie Mingjue said. “I haven’t forgotten how to help host a party.”

“No, I meant…”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. Normally, Wen Ruohan had enough concern for his face to prefer that Nie Mingjue avoid showing his own shortly after he’d been insolent enough to warrant punishment, but due to the food poisoning they were short on young masters to greet all the incoming people – and their guests were too important not to be greeted by someone with status.

“I’ll use some powder, it’ll be fine,” he said. “And anyway, even if someone notices, it’s not like they would be bold enough to comment; they’re here to ask Sect Leader Wen for a favor, after all. Who will even pay attention to me long enough to notice?”

The answer, Nie Mingjue swiftly learned, was Yu Ming, a crotchety old grandmother from Meishan Yu in Sichuan who didn’t like the food (not spicy enough), her chair (the first one was too rickety, the second too soft), her peers (idiots, all of them), her drink (they’d served tea and she wanted wine, and then later on it was the other way around), and, most problematically, was one of the more influential sect leaders on the Jiang sect’s side. Not exactly someone they wanted to offend by providing inferior hospitality.  

Nie Mingjue ended up abandoning his now habitual corner in the back of the room to dash back and forth dancing attendance on her, run ragged and breathless by all of her demands.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise when she approached him in his corner during the banquet’s dessert course, and he straightened up at once, saluting politely. “Sect Leader Yu,” he said, suppressing a desire to moan and maybe beg for mercy; his legs were killing him. How this managed to be worse than serious saber training he had no idea, but it was. “Is the dessert not to your liking? I can get you something cool instead –”

“Sit down, boy,” she growled. “The crystal cakes are fine, and I’m tired of looking up at you. How tall are you? Six chi?”

“…five and a half, maybe five and three-quarters,” he confessed, sitting down obediently. At this point, she could tell him to jump out a window and he probably would – she had a very sharp walking stick and no hesitation about waving everywhere. No sympathy for her miserable victims, either.

“And you’re how old?”

“Seventeen.”

“Slowed down yet?”

“…not yet.”

She huffed. “That’s all we need, another Nie giant. I told your father that he was making a mistake, marrying a woman that needed to duck to get through doors…that how you got that black eye?”

“Huh?” Nie Mingjue said unintelligently, still caught by the mental image – he scarcely remembered his mother, having been very young when she left, but it was nice to think that it wasn’t just the perspective of having been a toddler that had made her appear quite so towering. “Oh, I – uh – training accident.”

Yu Ming squinted at him. “Same training accident that dislocated three of your fingers and a kneecap, did a number on your ribs, and cut your back up so bad that you need bandages and –” She inhaled. “– at least two doses of bai mao gen to replenish the blood lost?”

Nie Mingjue opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. Finally, yielding under her glare, he muttered, “I didn’t dislocate my kneecap.”

He might’ve preferred that, actually. Dislocations could be shoved back into place with relatively little issue; he’d sprained it, instead. A bad fall from when he’d shamefully broken and tried to run from the Fire Palace, futilely seeking safety, a place where he neither had to hurt people nor be hurt himself.

Not that such a place existed in the Nightless City, of course. He’d only been dragged back after, as he ought to have expected, and then things had gotten much worse, but he hadn’t really been thinking his actions through at the time.

“Dislocated, not dislocated, whatever. Has to be something, the way you’re dragging that left leg of yours behind you when you trot,” she said practically. “You’re a rotten liar, did anyone ever tell you that?”

“Many people,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. Most of them currently in bed with food poisoning, except for lucky Wen Ning away at the Lotus Pier and miserable Wen Xu now stuck standing by his father’s side, pretending to smile. “Does it matter?”

“Matter? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Other than going and applying more powder, there’s not much I can do about it even if it does offend your sight,” Nie Mingjue pointed out, reasonably enough in his view. “And no matter how many times or ways you ask it, the answer’s still going to be ‘training accident’, whether or not you believe me.”

Yu Ming poked his forehead with her finger, then his cheek. “And this is with powder,” she said, scowling and rubbing the remnants of it between her fingertips as if she hadn’t believed him that it was there until she’d verified it for herself. “If you won’t tell me anything other than ‘training accident’, will you at least tell me what you did to deserve this type of training?”

“I don’t remember,” Nie Mingjue said, and he really didn’t. All the thrashings more or less flowed together pretty well after a while, and in the end it didn’t really matter if he’d intervened on Nie Huaisang’s behalf or Wen Chao’s, whether he’d played whipping boy for Wen Xu or distracted attention away from Wen Qing – they were all close enough to be proper family now. What he did was nothing more than what you ought to do for those you loved, and he’d die before he forgot how to do that.

“Rotten liar,” Yu Ming said, maybe because she could tell he wasn’t lying, and spat on the ground. “It’s a filthy business.”

“I’m hardly going to disagree with you,” he said dryly.

“You might look a little less ragged if you did.”

He shrugged. “They say people can’t change their essential nature.”

“And what’s yours?”

“Blunt to the point of stupidity.”

“Say rather that you cut straight to the point,” she said.

“Well, you know, sabers have one blunt edge, one sharp,” he said, unable to resist a smile even if it pulled at the bruises around his eye. “I can be both.”

She was staring at him.

“…what?”

“You have dimples.”

“I’m…aware?”

He didn’t quite understand the calculating look Yu Ming had in her eyes – or, perhaps better said, he didn’t want to understand that look, and he was willing to put in a great deal of effort behind not understanding it if he had to.

“Do you want another crystal cake?” he asked her abruptly before she could say anything else. When she arched her eyebrows, he elaborated: “Sect Leader Wen will undoubtedly ask me whether I was taking good care of you, being as you are after all one of our honored guests.”

Don’t tell me anything, he meant. Even if you pity me – especially if you pity me. He has ways to make me talk. He likes making me talk.

“…fine, then,” Yu Ming said. “You said something about there being something cool?”

Nie Mingjue suppressed a groan as he dragged himself out of his seat and headed to the kitchen to see if they still had any sorbet left over.

-

“– going to be tricky,” Nie Huaisang was saying to a nodding Wen Xu as Nie Mingjue walked by. “Lanling Jin isn’t fond of making decisions.”

“But they are fond of profit,” Wen Xu pointed out.

“The question will be if there’s a way to strike the right balance without giving too much away –”

Nie Mingjue decided to believe that they were talking about pornography. People said Jin Guangshan was into that sort of thing, didn’t they?

-

Nie Mingjue trained with Baxia at least once every day, and usually more. He found the repetitive actions calming, like an active form of meditation, and he was happy to sink into the mindlessness of physical exertion and forget his worries.

Baxia was warm under his hand, as always – he thought sometimes that she’d never quite adjusted to the warmer temperatures of the Nightless City, preferring as he did the cooler weather of Qinghe.

Perhaps, in time, she would forget it.

Perhaps, in time, so would he.

Forget the cool air filling his lungs, the crisp snap of an autumn day just about to begin; forget the smell of the forests and the feeling of gravel under his shoes. Forget the strain on his muscles from climbing up a steep cliff, the taste of an early snowfall on his tongue – the metallic tang to the water, the lingering smell of smoke in the air even when there wasn’t anyone around for miles.

It felt unforgettable.

But he knew that it wasn’t. In the face of time, all things were ground down into the dust.

He would be eighteen years old this year. Still a little shy of proper adulthood, an unlucky year, if luck had anything to do with his life any longer. He’d been here for four years, just shy of a quarter of all the years he’d ever lived.

Perhaps that was what made him melancholy.

Or perhaps it was only that he had been unable to light incense on the anniversary of his father’s death yet again this year. Wen Ruohan took particular pleasure in ensuring that he couldn’t – he had spent the first year unconscious, the second year immobilized, the third…he tried not to remember.

It didn’t really matter, he supposed, since he’d always agreed in advance that Nie Huaisang would light the incense on behalf of them both, both on the anniversary and on Qingming – they hadn’t ever been given leave to return to Qinghe to sweep their ancestral graves, not once, not even when some of the other sects had complained about the impropriety of it. No one ever paid attention to Nie Huaisang, underestimating how sneaky he could be, and so he’d managed it just fine. Still, the failure to do it himself tugged at Nie Mingjue’s heart, disappointed him in himself - in his failure to be a good son, just as he so often failed to be a good brother.

He sank back into his training by force of willpower.

His cultivation was increasing at an acceptable rate, he thought – shockingly fast by all metrics, but all of his teachers said that his foundations were good, steady as mountains, and his progression through each stage was smooth and unhindered by bottlenecks. The consequences of genius, they said with a shrug.

It was about the only thing that was going in an acceptable manner.

Ma Liyuan had fallen out of favor, as Wen Xu had predicted – she’d failed to remain pregnant despite repeated efforts, and Wen Ruohan took such pleasure in criticizing her for it that Nie Mingjue suspected he’d dosed her tea with contraceptives specifically to set her up for the failure, since he didn’t actually need more sons – but her usefulness remained, so she was married in with all pomp to Wen Chao’s household as a secondary wife.

(She’d been promised the position of first wife, and threw a fit when she realized the change, but Wen Ruohan had reminded her, sneering, that that had been when she’d been a pure and untouched maiden; she really couldn’t expect them to pay such a high price for secondhand goods, now could she?)

Wen Chao obviously had no interest in her at all – she’d tried, once, to make herself up and smile at him and he’d recoiled as if he’d seen a snake, then stared at her and said, “You’re joking, right?” – so she’d taken the next best option and sent her maid to seduce him in her stead.

Wang Lingjiao was pretty enough, with curves enough to make just about any man stare, and pretty cunning to boot. In a different world, a world where Wen Chao had fallen for his father’s nasty little tricks and become a stupid oversexed princeling, a waste of space that would have been incited into fighting against Wen Xu for the sole purpose of being crushed to prove some imagined point of about the necessity of cruelty, she probably would have been able to crawl into his bed and keep her place there without much difficulty.

Wen Chao was a bit of a romantic, after all, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

As it was, when her first few efforts at flirtation failed – or, well, mostly failed, given that Wen Chao held her hands in his own during a garden stroll in the moonlight and told her, with great earnestness, that she was very beautiful and it was such a pity that he wasn’t allowed to think of women romantically until he was fifteen on pain of utmost humiliation and also was she aware of the dangers of venereal disease – Wang Lingjiao pulled back and recalibrated her approach.

This time, she went for Nie Mingjue.

“You’re joking, right?” he asked her.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Is that a deliberate reference to what Wen Chao said?”

“No, just the same idea. I’m not interested.”

“That much is obvious enough,” she said, tossing her hair. “I want you to tell me what I need to do to get someone to be interested. I don’t want to be a servant any longer.”

Nie Mingjue was at something of a loss for words.

“There must be something I can provide,” Wang Lingjiao demanded. “Some service, some use…I’m a weak cultivator, but that clearly doesn’t bother you lot – your younger brother is weak, too, though I’m still a bit worse. I’m not as dumb as Ma Liyuan; I know there’s more you can sell in life than sex, even if that’s easier. What do you want? What do any of you want?”

Wang Lingjiao was from the Yingchuan Wang cultivation clan, Nie Mingjue abruptly remembered. A smaller sect, with too many children, but a standalone sect nonetheless; their children were born as gentry, not servants. No, they must have sold Wang Lingjiao into servitude, though whether it was to get an in with Qishan Wen or simply to get rid of a budding problem – and extremely beautiful young women with poor cultivation were often a problem, especially when their beauty suggested how their mothers had gotten themselves selected to be wives, or, more likely, concubines – he did not know.

“Do you mix your own makeup?” he asked, and she stared at him. “It’s very well done.”

“…yes,” she said, giving him a strange look. “I do. None that’ll fit you, though.”

He blinked, then laughed. “No, I don’t want any; the only use I have for powder is to cover up bruises when I need to be presentable. I just meant that it seems you have a steady hand at mixing things and judging proportions – A-Qing appreciates those qualities.”

“Wen Qing?” Wang Lingjiao asked, bewildered. “You want to send me to a woman?”

“She’s expressed before that she would like to have more female company,” Nie Mingjue explained, and Wang Lingjiao’s expression only got more fish-like as she gaped at him. “A fair while back, in fairness, but the numbers really are skewed fairly strongly against her. I thought you might get along. Be friends.”

“I’ve never had a female friend in my life,” Wang Lingjiao told him.

“I thought – you’re always chatting with the other serving girls…?”

Wang Lingjiao rolled her eyes as if he were being stupid. He probably was. Forget Qishan ways, the ways of the teenaged girl were utterly beyond his grasp.

“I don’t see what you have to lose by trying,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. “I’m not interested, Xu-ge’s too paranoid to get within touching distance of anyone he thinks has an ulterior motive, A-Chao isn’t allowed to touch women for a few more years –”

“Why is that?”

“He’s gullible, and has both questionable taste and sibling-inflicted trauma relating to brothels,” Nie Mingjue explained, and Wang Lingjiao wrinkled her nose, looking a little amused despite herself. “A-Ning isn’t the type to womanize, and Huaisang is too young. Also a vicious cutthroat when it comes to interpersonal relations, so who even knows what type of person he’d like, if any.”

“I’d noticed that about him.”

“In sum, A-Qing is your best bet,” he concluded. “And all the more so if you approach her in a business-like fashion: make clear to her what benefits you bring and how you’ll compensate for the drawbacks, be practical and reasonable, and you’ll do fine. Do well, and you won’t ever need to fear being sent back to Ma Liyuan – or to Yingchuan.”

Wang Lingjiao stared at him for a moment – she hadn’t expected him to be able to figure that out, he thought, since she was just clever enough to manage to puzzle out that he was the heart and core of their little group but not quite smart enough to realize why – but in the end she seemed to take his advice to heart, nodding and walking away.

He hoped Wen Qing didn’t kill him for sending her a terrible lab assistant.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wen xu #wen chao #wang lingjiao #wen qing #wen ning #my fic #my fics #fire and light