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liverbiver9 · 9 months

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Unfridging MDZS Women Bingo Prompt 1

For the awesome Little Apple Support Group Discord channel event. (See @loosingmoreletters for invite)

Word Count: 4,500

Also on AO3

Prompt: Rogue Cultivator

—oOo—

“How dare he?!” Yú Zǐyuān raged, Zǐdiàn crackling as she made yet another burn mark on the right-most corner post of her private pavilion.

Jiāng Fēngmián had allowed Wèi Wúxiàn, not yet fourteen, to go on his first nighthunt—alone. Most disciples were not allowed to solo nighthunt until sixteen at the earliest. There were too many risks that young cultivators weren’t experienced enough to handle, too many things that could go terribly wrong. Jiāng Zōngzhǔ’s reasoning for this unprecedented allowance was that Wèi Wúxiàn’s martial abilities had surpassed even his martial seniors, and therefore was more than capable of nighthunting alone.

“Allowing that bastard son of a servant such an honor before his own son?!”

It took all of Jīnzhū’s lifelong training to not flinch at the venom, the disdain in those words: son of a servant. Yú Zǐyuān had always made it clear that Jīnzhū and Yínzhū were not the average servant, that they were more than that. Yet Jīnzhū couldn’t shake the feeling that some—if not all—of those words were not always true.

They weren’t lies; Yú Zǐyuān was the only person that could ever lay a hand on either of her twin pearls, and they were not expected to perform regular duties of servitude. But they weren’t the truth either; Jīnzhū and Yínzhū were both very aware of their lower status, their place behind and below their mistress, and that if either of them took even the slightest step out of line they would likely end up in Wèi Wúxiàn’s same position.

What does it mean to be loyal? Should a servant’s loyalty be returned—even in part— by the master?

Yú Zǐyuān heaved with anger before taking a deep breath and turning to her quiet maids, standing tall and at attention.

“Wèi Wúxiàn will not return from his nighthunt,” she said, her words heavy with implications. “He will set off an emergency flare, and when you both ‘arrive’ to aid he is already dead. A terrible tragedy and miscalculation of his abilities. He’ll die just like his parents did.”

“Yes, Fūren,” Jīnzhū and Yínzhū both responded, voices purposefully blank just as she’d trained them.

—oOo—

What does it mean to be loyal?

Zhōng Liǔ, gifted the courtesy name Jīnzhū by her Fūren, thought she knew what loyalty meant. Since the moment Zhōng Liǔ entered Yú Zǐyuān’s service as a young child, loyalty has meant unquestionable devotion, complete sacrifice, and unending servitude. Zhōng Liǔ had been set aside so Jīnzhū could serve her mistress with her whole body, mind, and soul. Loyalty for Jīnzhū was a complete absence of self; that is how she was taught by Yú Zǐyuān to be a loyal servant.

When Jīnzhū saw Jiāng Zōngzhǔ bring home a filthy orphan, hair an unkempt rats nest and stomach bloated from starvation, she was unwillingly reminded of herself as a child when the Méishān Yú Shì first took her in and appointed her as Yú Zǐyuān’s maid. Jīnzhū had been a street orphan too, just two years younger than her mistress, and she devoted the rest of her life to paying back the debt of her survival. She watched with unusual pride as Wèi Yīng came to a similar conclusion, falling into a role based on loyalty and servitude with the young Jiāng Chéng that Jīnzhū remembers herself doing, too.

She thought, perhaps foolishly, that Yú Zǐyuān would see the similarities between her own maids and Wèi Yīng and find some sort of satisfaction that the son of a brilliant cultivator would be the shield for her son. She was wrong.

“Ungrateful son of a servant!” Yú Zǐyuān sneered, Zǐdiàn sparking along her hand. “Useless bastard!”

Instead, Jīnzhū watched as her mistress became more and more upset with the child’s existence. Yú Zǐyuān did not see the path Jiāng Fēngmián had laid out for Wèi Yīng, now Wèi Wúxiàn. She did not notice the debt Wèi Wúxiàn had devoted his mind, body, and soul to fulfilling. All she saw was hate, and it distorted the way she viewed the world around her. Wèi Wúxiàn was simultaneously overreaching his station and never doing enough in her mind.

Despite her mistress’ view of Wèi Wúxiàn, Jīnzhū could not shake off the warm feelings that Wèi Wúxiàn was a kindred spirit, that he was like her in ways no one, not even Yínzhū, was. So, Jīnzhū quietly, secretly took Wèi Wúxiàn under her wing whenever her mistress was not looking or ordered her to spy on him, teaching him all the important lessons and expectations of being a right-hand, a shield, and a devoted servant to the Yú gentry—because for all his name was Jiāng, Jiāng Chéng, now Wǎnyín, was a Yú through and through.

Despite every instinct in her saying not to get too attached, Jīnzhū began to care for Wèi Wúxiàn. If I had a child, Jīnzhū thought, perhaps it would feel like this.

—oOo—

Despite not being biologically related, Gāo Bā viewed Zhōng Liǔ as her sister. She had been bought by the Méishān Yú Shì just two months shy of her seventh birthday, saved by their magnanimous mercy from becoming yet another underage prostitute in one of Lánlíng’s many brothels after her parents sold her to slave traders for a few bags of rice and a goat. Once she was of age, Yú Zǐyuān gifted her the courtesy name Yínzhū, the younger, quieter, yet taller of her mistress’ two shadows.

Yínzhū was not a stranger to corporal punishment. Yú Zǐyuān was a strict master that did not tolerate mistakes, but her punishments were always rightfully earned and indiscriminately given. At least, they used to be. As Yínzhū watched her mistress strike Wèi Wúxiàn yet again with Zǐdiàn, a first-class spiritual weapon, for an act everyone, including Yú Fūren, knew he hadn’t committed, Yínzhū couldn’t help but wonder when and why her once righteous and fair mistress had become so volatile. Was it truly because of Wèi Wúxiàn’s presence in Liánhuā Wù? Or had this change happened earlier, and Yínzhū simply hadn’t noticed until now?

She was grateful Jīnzhū was not here for this. Her sister had connected with Wèi Wúxiàn since his arrival almost two years ago, and despite Yínzhū’s warnings she’d developed a soft spot for the orphan boy. She would never admit it, but Yínzhū could see why. While she had struggled to adapt to life as a servant after being a poor but forgotten farm girl, Wèi Wúxiàn had fallen into his role seamlessly. She watched with awe and some jealousy as he molded himself to be the perfect servant and right hand for Jiāng Wǎnyín.

While the Jiāng heir was volatile and rude, Wèi Wúxiàn was level-headed and charming. He filled in all the cracks in Jiāng Wǎnyín’s personality, pushing him to become a better heir, a better cultivator, a better leader, all while keeping himself in his orbit but in the background. Yínzhū envied his adaptability, much like she’d envied Jīnzhū’s when they were still young and learning how to be Yú Zǐyuān’s perfect twin pearls.

Yínzhū wasn’t as attached to the boy as Jīnzhū was, but she couldn’t ignore the cold feeling in her stomach as the boy, not even ten yet, took lashes from Zǐdiàn that he did not deserve without even a grunt of pain. Yú Zǐyuān had never treated them this way, despite occupying the same role as the boy in front of her. Yínzhū didn’t know what she would do if she was in Wèi Wúxiàn’s place. Would she silently bear it as he was? Could she walk away and still smile for her sect siblings, loyalty unwavering? She wasn’t sure.

Later that evening, Yínzhū quietly delivered bandages and a healing poultice to Wèi Wúxiàn’s rooms, knowing her mistress had forbidden the healers from attending to his wounds. The lashes wouldn’t scar, not with his golden core burning abnormally bright in his lower dāntián, but they still must hurt. The cold in her stomach did not ease.

—oOo—

Wèi Wúxiàn left Liánhuā Wù with a wide grin and a cocky farewell. An hour later, Yú Zǐyuān claimed to have a migraine from all the ruckus of Wèi Wúxiàn’s departure and retired for the day much earlier than usual, sending Yínzhū and Jīnzhū into the city to procure some medicine for her that the healer’s pavilion did not have at hand.

The two maids walked through the bustling streets of the city, making sure to be seen walking into and out of an apothecary before slipping unnoticed into the wetlands that surrounded the riverbanks. The nighthunt request was for a small village not far from Liánhuā Wù, less than a quarter shíchén sword flight away.

They found Wèi Wúxiàn battling a rather fearsome and malformed guài of a wáwayú. The giant salamander looked to have been killed by a horse, its body, swollen nearly thrice its original size, trampled and smashed in many places. Despite Wèi Wúxiàn’s skills, it became immediately obvious to Yínzhū and Jīnzhū that this nighthunt was not one for a junior disciple, much less one as young as Wèi Wúxiàn. He was doing better than expected, Suíbiàn’s red glare bright against the black, slimy skin of the salamander. The wáwayú cried out at a particularly well-aimed strike, the sound eerily similar to that of a baby’s cry.

Despite his skill, it was clear that he was tiring quickly while the guài grew more and more agitated. It would be rather easy, Yínzhū reasoned. They wouldn’t even have to get too involved, simply watch and ensure the guài defeated Wèi Wúxiàn before setting off an emergency flare and finishing off both the guài and Wèi Wúxiàn, should he still survive somehow. Yínzhū looked to Jīnzhū, both still hidden behind a gnarled tree, and saw the tears streaming down her sister’s face. The cold pit in her stomach that had emerged ever since Yú Zǐyuān’s orders grew so big and heavy she feared it would consume her jīndān. She took a deep, steadying breath before turning to her sister.

“Trust me, and follow my lead,” she whispered before setting off the Jiāng emergency flare and running into the battle with Jīnzhū close behind.

They made quick work of the salamander; the guài was strong but no match to three cultivators, two highly trained and one a budding genius. Wèi Wúxiàn, to his credit, didn’t flinch at their sudden appearance. Staring at the twice-dead corpse, Yínzhū closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment of deep regret and grief before slicing open the wáwayú’s stomach. Several corpses spilled out, most of them deteriorated beyond recognition but two of them relatively fresh.

Yínzhū tore the silver hairpin holding her hair in place and stuck it into the hair of a fresher corpse. Her hands lingered on the clarity bell at her waist before tearing the whole belt off and wrapping it haphazardly around the corpse’s waist as well. She turned to Wèi Wúxiàn, who was watching her with thinly-veiled confusement.

“Yú Fūren ordered us to kill you and make it look like a nighthunting accident,” she said bluntly. “Unfortunately, the guài proved to be too strong for all of us. I was able to cut open the wáwayú’s stomach, delivering a killing blow, but I perished soon after.”

At her words, Jīnzhū seemed to startle from the haze she’d fallen in and began taking off her hairpin and belt before attaching them to the other fresh corpse. She stared at her sword, sizzling spiritual whip in her other hand. Jīnzhū tossed the whip so it landed somewhere near the guài. With one quick movement, she grabbed her loose hair into a tail and cut it off at the shoulders with her sword. Still holding her shorn hair, she abandoned her weapon near “her” corpse.

“She will not rest until you are dead or gone,” Zhōng Liǔ said to Wèi Wúxiàn. “We were ordered to kill you. My head says to stay loyal to my mistress, but my heart says the woman who ordered your death is no longer the mistress I swore loyalty to.” She looked at the bundle of hair in her hand. “The only way to satisfy both is to disappear from this world.”

Yínzhū followed Zhōng Liǔ’s lead, shearing off her hair and abandoning her weapons. Zhōng Liǔ and Gāo Bā tied their bundles of hair off with strips of fabric from their torn robes and stuffed them into a shared qiánkūn bag. With the amount of partially digested material from the guài they decided on only abandoning one qiánkūn bag, but only after taking half of the supplies inside it.

Wèi Wúxiàn watched them both with wide eyes. The shock was soon overcome by grim determination, and once again Gāo Bā found herself envying his ability to adapt so quickly. Wèi Wúxiàn took off his belt, caressing his clarity bell with immense grief, before tying it around one of the less deteriorated corpses and abandoning his red ribbon near its head.

He looked at his sword for a long moment, tears of grief and anguish, of anger and helplessness falling down his young cheeks. His unruly hair stuck to the damp skin, still long and uncut. Wèi Wúxiàn was not shaming his shìjiā or breaking promises by choosing survival over death. He was not officially anything but a junior disciple in the Jiāng Shì—not an adopted son, not a servant, not a martial disciple of any important rank, not even an official ward. The Fūren of his shìjiā ordered his death, nulling any debts he may have had.

“Come,” Zhōng Liǔ said softly, taking Suíbiàn from his weak grip, discarding the sheath further in the clearing, and gently placing the blade near the dead wáwayú’s head. “It will not take long for them to arrive, and we must cover our tracks.”

Three shadows slipped from the gruesome scene and traveled further into the wetlands until they were some ten lǐ away. From their place on the riverbank of the Cháng river, Gāo Bā estimated they were at least two-hundred lǐ from Liánhuā Wù. The distance was simultaneously too far and too close. They continued following the river eastward until they reached where the Gàn tributary river joins the Cháng.

“Póyáng Lake is several days southeast,” Gāo Bā said.

“So is the Tángxī Yáng Shì,” Zhōng Liǔ replied.

Gāo Bā grimaced. The Tángxī Yáng Shì were a Jiāng subsidiary minor shìjiā that resided on the eastern side of Póyáng Lake. Yáng Zǎihàn was a fair zōngzhǔ, talented cultivator, and very loyal to Jiāng Zōngzhǔ. She had no doubt Yáng Zōngzhǔ would send word to Liánhuā Wù as soon as reports of their survival reached his ears. No, to stay safe they must completely avoid all major and minor shìjiā, popular cultivation hunting grounds, and major cities.

“Let’s follow the Gàn River south until its end, then travel east to Hóuguān,” Zhōng Liǔ said.

“Ah, Róng City,” Gāo Bā replied. “I’ve heard from some servants that the city has become busy with new shipyards for Sūn Wú’s Cháng River and coastal fleets.”

Zhōng Liǔ hummed. “That will make it easier to hide from cultivators. Jiāng Zōngzhǔ was always complaining about all the conflicts between Cáo Wèi and Sūn Wú clogging up the river traffic and making it difficult to nighthunt properly.”

“Yáng Zōngzhǔ sent word that he was pulling his cultivators back into his borders to avoid interfering with the non-cultivator wars.”

Wèi Wúxiàn watched them discuss in silence, his face blank. He hadn’t said a single word since they left Yúnmèng. Zhōng Liǔ cast a worried glance at the teenager, but Gāo Bā discreetly shook her head.

“Let’s stop in Nánchāng to restock.”

Gāo Bā and Zhōng Liǔ continued to plan as they walked along the river, Wèi Wúxiàn their silent shadow. As night began to fall, they trekked a few lǐ away from the river before setting up camp. After a simple dinner of roasted fish and some pickled vegetables, Gāo Bā put out the fire while Zhōng Liǔ and Wèi Wúxiàn smoothed out their bedrolls.

“I’m sorry,” Zhōng Liǔ whispered.

Wèi Wúxiàn startled and looked at her. “What for?” he rasped.

“Losing a home once is already hard,” she said. “And losing the one you finally found after years of being alone is amongst the worst pains imaginable.”

Despite the simple words, Wèi Wúxiàn looked like he’d been punched. Looking at him now, in the soft glow of the waning moon, she was reminded of just how young he was. Only a boy, years away from being a man, and already going through more hardship and turmoil than most of the men running the Jiānghú.

Zhōng Liǔ leaned forward and brushed stray hairs away from his face. She huffed a silent laugh when they moved right back. The way he was looking at her, so scared and vulnerable and grieving, made guilt rise like bile in her throat.

“Come,” she said, gesturing to the middle bedroll in the row of three. “Get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow.”

Wèi Wúxiàn nodded wordlessly and curled up on his side beneath the thin blanket he’d packed with the assumption he’d be camping in Yúnmèng humidity, not the cool breeze drifting off the Cháng River to the field of high grasses and sparse gathering of trees.

Gāo Bā and Zhōng Liǔ stayed up for a while longer, discussing the more troublesome details outside of Wèi Wúxiàn’s hearing. Deciding to take second watch, Zhōng Liǔ laid in the bedroll on Wèi Wúxiàn’s left, draping her thicker blanket over the shivering teen and settling down for a restless sleep.

—oOo—

When they first heard about the Massacre of Liánhuā Wù, Gāo Bā had wanted to immediately return and take revenge for their now-dead mistress, but Zhōng Liǔ had held her back, reminding her that revealing their existence—and therefore their betrayal of Yú Zǐyuān—would only bring bad luck to the already crippled Yúnmèng Jiāng.

It had been Wèi Yīng who suggested they return to Yúnmèng and help support the area in Yúnmèng Jiāng’s absence. Without cultivators nearby, the region would undoubtedly fall into disarray, not to mention the significant impact cultivator wars had on resentment levels. So, the three of them returned to the place they’d left nearly five years earlier and began to stabilize the region, making sure to credit their efforts to Yúnmèng Jiāng.

“We have been hired by Yúnmèng Jiāng to watch over this area as they pursue vengeance for all the horrors Qíshān Wēn as wrought in our lands,” they said to grateful townsfolk, accepting only the bare minimum repayments for their services.

It was all they could do to honor their forsaken debt.

With only three of them, they were stretched rather thin. Wèi Yīng was an excellent cultivator and did well on his own, but both Gāo Bā and Zhōng Liǔ worried about him when he went on solo nighthunts, unable to forget the wáwayú guài and what would’ve happened had they not arrived when they did. So, the two of them agreed that one of them would always accompany Wèi Yīng on nighthunts while the other went solo.

Which is how Gāo Bā found herself crouched in the underbrush in the wetlands of Yúnmèng, alone and struggling to moderate her breathing.

What should have been a simple haunting had turned out to be a swarm of fierce corpses from fallen cultivators of the Sunshot Campaign. Their resentment was so thick she could almost taste it on their tongue. The presence of so many fierce corpses, numbering nearly fifteen, and no nearby cultivators, as the remaining scraps of Yúnmèng Jiāng had gone to Lánlíng where Jīn Guāngshàn was struggling to hold the Lángyá front, was a dangerous problem for the nearby townsfolk.

Gāo Bā wasn’t a bad cultivator; she’d even say she was a rather good one. But fifteen fierce corpses of fallen soldiers, both Wēn and Sunshot allies, was too much for one person to handle alone. Just as she was planning out a tactical retreat that didn’t endanger the nearby village, a green sword glare cut through two of the fierce corpses, turning their attention away from her.

Taking one last steadying breath, Gāo Bā jumped from the brush and joined the other cultivator, her purple sword glare joining the green. The new cultivator was a young man, perhaps a few years younger than her, and wore no affiliated robes, marking him as a fellow rogue.

They didn’t talk, instead falling into a rhythm so easy and natural it shocked Gāo Bā. The only other person besides Zhōng Liǔ she’d ever fought so instinctively with had been Yú Zǐyuān, but the rogue cultivator held no similarities to the Yú or Jiāng fighting style to explain this feeling.

Gāo Bā pushed the thoughts from her head and focused her attention to the fight. Fifteen fierce corpses was a lot for one person, but with two it went by much easier. She cut down the last corpse with a satisfied smile and turned around to her new companion.

“You arrived just in time,” she said, admitting her almost-defeat. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” the rogue said with an easy grin before falling into a proper greeting. “Chén Shū, courtesy Hàorán.”

“Gāo Bā,” she returned. “I’m surprised to see a fellow rogue in these parts. Most have either gone further south to avoid the war or joined it themselves.”

“I could say the same about you,” Chén Hàorán said. “I am on my way to offer my services to the Sunshot Campaign. We could travel together, if that’s where you’re heading also.”

“A kind offer,” Gāo Bā replied, “but I am staying here.”

Chén Hàorán looked at her in surprise,

With all the shìjiā at war, the common folk have been left vulnerable,” Gāo Bā explained. “My sister and I have decided to hold back and support them by ensuring there are safe territories for them to return to.”

“There have been more guǐ than usual on my journey from Wúzhōu,” Chén Hàorán said, his pretty brown eyes thoughtful.

“Well,” Gāo Bā nodded awkwardly. “Thank you again, and I wish you luck with the war.”

She turned to leave, but Chén Hàorán called out to her.

“Wait!” He shifted from foot to foot, clearly nervous. “I don’t suppose you have room for one more rogue in these parts?”

Gāo Bā smiled, her pink cheeks hidden in the blue night.

“Come with me. We have an extra cot in our cottage. It’s not much, but we have far better wine than any of the inns nearby.”

Chén Hàorán grinned, boyish but sharp, and caught up to her side.

—oOo—

Zhōng Liǔ stood in her shared boat with Wèi Ying, her new sword, Gēngshēng, in hand and her keen eyes focused on the water.

One of the local fishermen had complained about a sudden influx of unusually fierce water ghouls haunting the eastern mouth of the Mǐn River about a hundred lǐ out of Hóuguān. The ghouls they’d encountered so far were much more intelligent than the average water ghoul and had signs of different deaths than merely drowning. No doubt these ghouls were yet another lingering effect of the Sunshot Campaign, Zhōng Liǔ reasoned grimly.

With Gāo Bā on a nighthunt with her fiance in Bālíng, the two of them had answered the request for help. With rumors that General Niè Míngjué was captured in Yángquán, all of Yúnmèng was tense with anxious anticipation. Would the Sunshot Campaign follow through and truly shoot down the sun? Or would the sun burn them all? With more anxiety came more requests for help, people jumping at shadows.

They had expected this request to be just that, more shadows, and so Zhōng Liǔ and Wèi Yīng had been surprised to find the fisherman’s account rather accurate. They weren’t at a disadvantage per se, but Zhōng Liǔ definitely wished Gāo Bā and Chén Hàorán were here to help.

Just as she was about to turn around and order Wèi Yīng to stay in the boat, she heard a splash behind her.

“That damned foolish boy,” she grumbled, already knowing he’d jumped into the river to wrestle the ghouls by hand like he’d loved to do at Liánhuā Wù.

Zhōng Liǔ heaved a weary sigh before sending Gēngshēng into the water to skewer a ghoul headed for Wèi Yīng’s neck teeth first. She would never admit it, but having one person in the water drawing their attention while another watched from above was a rather effective approach to hunting water ghouls, especially more cunning ones.

Her adopted son was always attempting new and profound (and most often more dangerous) approaches to cultivation, and it gave her both pride and a headache. He’d already far surpassed her and Gāo Bā with his prowess, and Zhōng Liǔ couldn’t help but feel guilty that he hadn’t been properly nurtured by a large shìjiā that could support and feed his growth in ways she and her sister couldn’t.

After the war, she promised herself as she slashed through another ghoul. After the war, I’ll find him a master that will help him grow to his potential.

—oOo—

Qíshān Wēn was defeated, the sun shot down, and Jiāng Wǎnyín returned to a Yúnmèng in glory but expecting to find his shìjiā in shattered remains. He was surprised to find himself returning to the most prosperous region in the jiānghú, exceeding even Lánlíng. The townsfolk celebrated his arrival with immense joy and gratitude, flourishing despite the war.

He eventually learned of four rogue cultivators who he’d allegedly hired to protect and support his territories on his behalf. All efforts to find them were in vain, however, and Jiāng Wǎnyín became Jiāng Zōngzhǔ without knowing the names of the four strangers that had made his shì come out of the war as the most prosperous, and therefore most powerful, of the jiānghú.

Gāo Bā and Chén Hàorán got married in a quiet ceremony in Hóuguān underneath a beautiful banyan tree with only Zhōng Liǔ and Wèi Yīng in attendance. The two of them went off to continue traveling as rogue cultivators before eventually settling down in a small village in Yúnmèng with their two children.

Zhōng Liǔ traveled with Wèi Yīng for many years, despite her insistence he could go off alone and leave his old adopted mother behind. She died peacefully in her sleep after receiving a lethal injury during a terrifying encounter with a false goddess statue in Dàfàn, nearly twenty-two years after leaving Yúnmèng Jiāng.

Three years after the end of the Sunshot Campaign, Lán Wàngjī met a rogue cultivator while on a nighthunt and fell in love at first sight. They courted for three years before he finally mustered up the courage to ask his terrifying adopted mother and aunt for his hand in marriage. Wèi Yīng was more shocked at the proposal than anyone else.

The end.

Notes:

Names= Liǔ - 柳: willow; 八 - Bā: eight; or, 巴 - bā: to long for / to wish / to cling to / to stick to; 浩然 - Hàorán: vast / expansive / overwhelming.

Information about the Giang Chinese Salamander aka wáwayú.

榕 - Róng: Chinese banyan (Ficus microcarpa), a nickname for [福州 - Fúzhōu] aka [侯官 - Hóuguān], a coastal city in southeastern China.

更生 - Gēngshēng: resurrection / rebirth / reinvigorated / rejuvenated / a new lease of life.

#Unfridging MDZS Women Bingo #mdzs #wei wuxian #mo dao zu shi #my writing #fanfic #Jinzhu and Yinzhu #canon divergence #rogue cultivators

23 notes · View notes

jaimebluesq · 3 months

Note

For the Nie Mingjue prompt: He's not everyone's Da-ge, he's everyone's didi!

And if you're not feeling the age swap situation, then maybe canonverse NMJ loses his memory somehow (curse? qi deviation unusual effects?) and needs everyone's help to remember who he is (but specially Huaisang’s 🥺)

Damn, how did this prompt go over 2k?! *Ahem*.

Thank you so much for this prompt! I very much enjoy reverse Nie bros! I got to write then once before and decided to turn this prompt into a sequel (but you don't need to have read Maybe if the stars align, maybe if our worlds collide to follow the worldbuilding!)

So, on to the prompt fill - I hope you enjoy :D

~ ~ ~

Nie Huaisang bit his lip in thought, and a little frustration. He’d been to the rooms assigned to the Lan sect, and hadn’t found his brother anywhere – normally Lan Qiren would have absconded Nie Mingjue somewhere to discuss night hunts, or Lan Xichen would have dragged him away somewhere for tea, but neither had seen him since the banquet that evening. Nor was Nie Mingjue among the Jin – they were in Koi Tower, after all, and the sects had been invited for a grand celebration on Jin Zixuan’s birthday, and though the boy was vain and snobbish at times, he often came out of his shell to take Nie Mingjue under his wing and show him around the grounds or take him to spar on the training field. Nie Mingjue had certainly not been among the Wen – even after Wen Ruohan’s ‘mysterious’ death two years ago, the Nie and the Wen were far from friendly, even if Wen Xu’s reign was nowhere near as contentious as his father’s (Nie Huaisang was quite thankful that he, rather than Wen Chao, had come out on top when the two brothers fought for dominion over their sect).

He was finishing looking around the smaller sects’ delegations, intending to head for the Jiangs’ quarters next, when he was stopped by a feminine voice nearby. “Oh, Nie-zongzhu? It’s quite fortunate that I found you!”

He lifted his fan to cover his frown and sighed. It was Sect Leader Yao’s sister, of course it was. She was nowhere as unpleasant as her brother, thankfully, but she did have a habit of making a nuisance of herself. Particularly to him.

“Ah, Yao-guniang, I hope you’ve been enjoying the birthday celebrations. How may I assist you?”

She fluttered her eyelashes coquettishly and waved her round fan over her chest – her neckline showing far more cleavage than was proper. Normally he would not mind – he did have a reputation for enjoying the company of women (and men), after all – but he knew she’d had particular designs on him for two years now.

“I heard that the matchmakers have been a great bother to Nie-zongzhu of late,” she offered with an attractive pout. “So disrespectful to hound such a great man, no doubt still grieving the late Madame Nie. I would be more than happy to have a word or two with them, if it would help.”

Yes, the matchmakers had been on his case of late to petition for various women wishing to be the next Madame Nie. He knew he would have to accept one eventually, but he had yet to decide upon what alliance would be most advantageous. Most believed he was still mourning the ‘accidental’ death of his wife during a night hunt – the better that they did not think further upon the timing of her death with that of Wen Ruohan. While they had not been a love match, Yu Jinzhu and he had developed an affection for one another, and he knew she would not want her sacrifice in pursuit of assassinating Wen Ruohan to put his sect in danger.

He also knew that Yao YuFeng’s offer was far from altruistic – she’d had designs on becoming the next Madame Nie since the day of the funeral.

“That is very kind of Yao-guniang,” he said with a charming smile that prompted her fan to move a little faster, “but this one is not afraid of the matchmakers. When I am ready to marry again, only then will I have need of them. But until that time, I have a sect to run, and a brother to find.”

“Is your Didi lost again?” Her smile and chuckle were now far more genuine. “He’s grown to be such a handsome boy, and a great cultivator even at his age! And I have yet to meet a girl who can resist the temptation to pinch his cheeks when his dimples show.”

“Yes, that’s the very reason why I lose him so often. He’s far too happy to help anyone who asks, and is often led astray.” He gave a long-suffering sigh. “If I allowed him, he would go weeks without seeing his Da-ge and spend all of his time helping people in need. My Didi forgets me so!”

“Such a thing is impossible,” she replied. “Everyone knows Nie Mingjue adores his brother and threatens anyone who even thinks of questioning the way you run your sect. He is a credit to Qinghe Nie, and to his Da-ge.”

He tilted his head in thanks at her kind words. “Your kindness does your sect credit, Yao-guniang. Now if you’ll forgive me, a process of elimination is leading me to the Jiang sect’s quarters – hopefully I’ll find my misplaced Didi there.”

“I wish you the best of luck, Nie-zongzhu,” she offered with a short bow, that he echoed.

Thankfully, she had the grace to leave his side, allowing him to continue on his way.

He took a path through the gardens outside on his way to the Jiang delegation’s rooms, enjoying the cool night air, and he spotted a pair of figures sitting outside in the lantern-light. The two boys seemed to be pouting – well, one looked positively grumpy, while the other one pouted only a little as he bumped his shoulder into the other’s. But the moment Nie Huaisang came close enough to be lit by the lanterns, both boys jumped up onto their feet and made proper bows.

“Nie-zongzhu!” they chorused.

“You’ve been enjoying the celebrations, I hope!” Wei Wuxian crowed with a charming grin.

“Are you here to get Nie-xiong?” Jiang Cheng added, a little too much hope in his voice.

Nie Huaisang did his best not to let a smirk creep upon his face.

“I have been searching for him,” he replied, “and this was my next stop. I do hope my Didi hasn’t been too much of a nuisance.”

“Nie-xiong is never a bother,” Jiang Cheng replied – unsurprising, since he and Nie Mingjue had been close since they were young, and Jiang Cheng had yet to refuse an invitation to come to Qinghe and visit with Jasmine, Princess, and Love.

“Not a bother – but he is a thief,” Wei Wuxian countered unapologetically.

Nie Huaisang lifted his fan to cover his silent chuckle. “Well, would you be so kind as to escort me to my thieving Didi?”

“Of course! Right this way, Nie-zongzhu,” Wei Wuxian offered in a way that was almost flirtatious – ah, to be fifteen again.

As the three of them walked, Nie Huaisang was reminded of how fast these young cultivators grew up. When he’d first taken over as sect leader, he’d been their age, and they had been but children playing at being cultivators. And now they were all grown, and already taller than he was. At times he felt like an ant wandering among trees.

Jiang Cheng knocked on a door and opened it, calling out: “Jiejie! We have a visitor!”

Inside the luxuriously appointed guest rooms, Jiang Yanli had set up a table with tea and many kinds of food – and across from her, shyly accepting an affectionate pat on the head, was Nie Huaisang’s missing Didi. The two looked up at their entrance and Nie Mingjue’s face lit up.

“Da-ge!”

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, A-Jue,” he teased. He knew his brother and that his absences were rarely purposeful – he had simply been ‘adopted’ by so many older disciples that constantly sought him out, wanting to spoil him or teach him or drag him out on night hunts. “I’ve been looking for you for nearly an hour.”

Nie Mingjue looked sheepish; he stood up and bowed to his brother. “This one apologizes to Nie-zongzhu.”

“No apologies necessary, something simply came up at the last minute.” Nie Huaisang turned to Jiang Yanli. “I hope Jiang-guniang does not mind me stealing back my brother.”

“Of course, Nie-zongzhu,” she replied kindly with an elegant bow. “Had I known he was missing, I would have sent him back to your delegation’s rooms.”

“No harm is done – and there are few I trust with my brother’s welfare as much as you and your family.” She tilted her head in thanks, her cheeks flushing brightly. Not for the first time did he think she would make an excellent wife – but not only was she betrothed to Jin Zixuan, but Yu Ziyuan had told him in no uncertain terms that her daughter (and son, for that matter) were off-limits to his wandering eyes.

But a man could still look and appreciate.

Everyone wished each other farewell for the night, and Nie Huaisang and his brother were finally en route to their rooms.

“Is something the matter, Da-ge?” Nie Mingjue asked quietly when they were finally alone.

“Nothing is wrong,” he replied, keeping his eyes ahead of him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look at his brother, but with how he had to crane his head up to look at him since his last growth spurt, it hurt his neck a lot less to keep his eyes on the path ahead. “But there is someone I want you to meet. Someone I believe has some potential in our sect, but who will require some time to adjust to our ways.” He paused as they passed a servant, and only continued once they were long past them. “Furthermore, I want to get your impression of them.”

“Of course,” Nie Mingjue replied. “Whatever I can do to help.”

He smiled to himself – this was why everyone wished Nie Mingjue were their little brother.

When they reached the Nie delegation’s quarters, one of their disciples held the door open for them as they entered. The healer within stood up and bowed in greeting.

“How is he?” Nie Huaisang asked her, glancing over to where a young man sat by the window. When he saw Nie Huaisang had returned, he stood up and lowered into a gracious bow of his own.

“Nothing that cannot be healed,” she replied reassuringly. “I’m more concerned at his malnourishment than I am the few scrapes and bruises he acquired today.”

He nodded and dismissed her with a wave of his fan. He stepped further into the room once the door clicked shut behind him. “Didi, I would like to introduce you to a young man I met earlier today. This is Meng Yao, and I have invited him to come back to Qinghe with us. He wishes to become a cultivator, and I believe we may have a place for him in the Unclean Realm.”

“It is an honour to meet you,” Meng Yao said in a practised tone of voice, the same one that had impressed Nie Huaisang upon their first meeting outside when the young man had stood up from the bottom of Koi Tower’s steps. He’d seen something in him immediately that he recognized – someone who did not have the same strength and skill with weapons that were the basis of many cultivators’ training, but instead he saw someone adept at the more subtle arts that Nie Huaisang called his own, that his father had brought in teachers from Meishan Yu to teach him many years ago.

In Meng Yao, he had seen himself.

“What happened to you?” Nie Mingjue asked bluntly, as was his way.

Meng Yao lifted a hand to self-sonsciously touch the darkened bruise on his cheek, and when he smiled, his lower lip showed red from where it had been split. “It is nothing, Nie-gongzi.”

“Was it a night hunt?” Nie Mingjue asked – Nie Huaisang said nothing, merely standing back and watching his brother. “Or bandits?”

The response was a wince, and Meng Yao shook his head. “It is nothing-”

Nie Mingjue's eyes narrowed. “Who hurt you? Only a coward hurts someone who can’t or won’t fight back.” He reached for his saber, strapped securely to his back, but he stopped when Meng Yao reached out a hand to stop him. “Point me their way and I’ll-”

“It’s all right, young master. I will be fine.” Meng Yao’s eyes softened noticeably the way so many others did when they thought Nie Mingjue’s righteousness adorable, and Nie Huaisang found nothing to indicate it was an act. “You need not worry about this one. I merely wish to do what I can to thank Nie-zongzhu for his kindness.”

“It’s almost time for bed,” Nie Huaisang announced. “Meng Yao, why don’t you escort my brother to his room and help him take his hair down for the night? It will give you a chance to better see some of his braids – they’re typical for our sect, and you may wish to wear some of your own one day.”

“It would be an honour, Nie-zongzhu,” Meng Yao replied.

Nie Mingjue snorted. “Right this way,” he mumbled, “and you can tell me how you got hurt.”

“As I told your brother, Nie-gongzi, it was but a simple tumble down the stairs...”

Nie Huaisang watched his brother and Meng Yao walk away. It was going to be interesting having one of Jin Guangshan’s bastards around – not that he’d revealed to the young man that he’d overheard that part of the encounter on the stairs – particularly one that, like everyone else, fell under the sway of Nie Huaisang’s Didi’s charm.

That night, when Nie Huaisang slipped into his empty bed, he allowed himself a moment of true weakness. Wen Ruohan was dead, but there would always be sect politics, and people needing his attention, and yao and ghosts to fight. At times he was overwhelmed by it all, truly overwhelmed in a way the Headshaker never was. But he had a duty to fulfill, a sect to lead, and a brother to protect – and if he could do what he could to make certain Nie Mingjue never had to worry about anything in life, then it would all be worth it – just like what it had secretly cost them all to take down Wen Ruohan.

He sent a silent prayer to Jinzhu – he really did miss her at times, political though their marriage had been – and one to his and Nie Mingjue’s parents as well. Then, pushing his anxiety aside, he rolled over and allowed sleep to claim him.

The End

#nie mingjue #nie huaisang #nie bros #reverse nie bros #prompt fill

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