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stiltonbasket · 3 years

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If you’re still taking prompts, how does our favorite gossip king NHS find out about QS!WWX?

Nie Huaisang has been having a very strange week.

First, he was summoned to the Cloud Recesses and ordered to leave Nie Zonghui in the Unclean Realm, even though his brother was already in Gusu to spend a week with his husband and children. And secondly, when he actually arrived, there was no one waiting for him at the gates: no smiling brother-in-law, no placid, unsmiling Lan Wangji, and certainly no Da-ge, who was apparently busy elsewhere.

And thirdly, when he did see his brother, Nie Mingjue stuffed his two youngest children into Nie Huaisang’s arms and told him to keep them out of trouble.

“Excuse me?” Nie Huaisang gasps, trying to hold the twins still. “Did you make me come here all by myself to babysit?”

“Yes,” his Da-ge says dryly. “No one else can watch them just now. A-Hua, A-Hai, be good for your shushu, all right?”

“Why?” Nie Yunhua wonders. “I don’t want to.”

Nie Huaisang knows he shouldn’t be sympathizing with her, but his niece has a good point. “Why can’t their jiujiu watch them?” he protests. “Or Lan-xiansheng?”

His brother’s mouth twists into a grimace. “Wangji is...occupied,” he says, through gritted teeth. “Lan-xiansheng is handling Xichen’s work, and Xichen--A-Huan is unwell. I am looking after him.”

“Xichen-gege’s ill?” Nie Huaisang gapes. “Why? What’s wrong with him?”

“He keeps crying all the time,” Yunhai pipes up. “And he didn’t make sweet buns yesterday! And jiujiu’s always--”

Nie Mingjue covers his son’s mouth. “Will you do it, A-Sang?” he says, a trifle desperately. “Something’s happened. Please.”

Thoroughly bewildered, Nie Huaisang nods and leads A-Hua and A-Hai away from the hanshi, puzzling over what could possibly have troubled Lan Xichen enough to drive him to tears. His brother-in-law has nerves of iron, both as a consequence of having survived the Sunshot Campaign and becoming father to five children who were single-handedly responsible for another seven hundred and fifty-two rules being carved onto the wall of sect precepts, and the idea of something making Lan Xichen sick is absolutely terrifying, even if Nie Huaisang doesn’t know what it could be.

“Where’s your jiujiu?” he asks, knowing that his older three nieces and nephew will be attending lectures at this hour. “Is he at home? Let’s go find him.”

“He’s in the jingshi,” Nie Yunhua informs him. “And A-Die said we can’t go there!”

“Well, he didn’t tell me that,” Nie Huaisang mutters. “He’d better have a good reason why he can’t take care of you two sprouts, since your baba called me all the way from Qinghe. Now, which one of you wants to ride on my back?”

The answer turns out to be both of them, so Nie Huaisang sets off for Lan Wangji’s cottage with A-Hua and A-Hai perched on his shoulders and frowns when he finds jingshi empty. Lan Wangji usually prefers to work in solitude rather than frequenting the library pavilions when the disciples are there studying, so he should be here during the day, unless--

“Of course!” he realizes. “He must be in the rabbit field. Let’s go check there.”

The twins chatter his ears off all the way to the rabbit field, and Nie Huaisang nearly cries out in relief when he spots a pale-robed cultivator kneeling in the grass with countless white fluffballs piled up around him; but then Yunhua squeals, and Nie Yunhai slaps his hands over his eyes, and Nie Huaisang freezes on the spot as he takes in the bizarre picture in front of him.

The white-robed cultivator is Lan Wangji, as Nie Huaisang thought at first glance; but there’s someone else sitting in the flowery field beside him, someone with warm, soft curves draped over with a pretty blue ruqun, and Lan Wangji’s hands are tangled in the person’s hair, and--

He’s also kissing the woman in his arms for dear life, but Nie Huaisang’s heart will probably give out if he thinks about that for very long.

“Jiujiu!” A-Hai calls, stamping his tiny feet until the young woman breaks away from Lan Wangji with a gasp. “Stop kissing Aunt Su! It’s gross!”

Nie Huaisang stares.

The woman is Qin Su. Slimmer than he remembers, certainly, and more muscled and suntanned, but Nie Huaisang never forgets a face; especially not when it belongs to San-ge’s wife, whom he hasn’t gone more than a month without seeing since before she married Jin Guangyao...

...until about ten weeks ago, when Jin Guangyao said Qin Su would be taking an extended holiday with her father.

So what is Su-jie doing here, kissing Lan Wangji!?

“Adultery is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses,” he pants at last, having nothing better to say. “Lan-xiong, you--Jin-furen--”

And then he passes out.

#wangxian #nielan #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #my fic #qin su!wwx

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ibijau · 3 years

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How to woo a Lan pt2 / On AO3

Jin Ling takes a walk with his dog, reminisces on the past, and gets a brilliant idea

It took Jin Ling the better part of two weeks to remember the idea he had nearly had that night, after he’d accidentally insulted Lan Sizhui. He’d just been so busy that entire time, with more problems arising from that haunting they’d dealt with (Jin Ling had to write to Wei Wuxian, who in turn sent word to the person who had initially reached out to them). Then there had been councils, and bills for a change, and some trouble with a disciple who’d tried to take advantage of his position to harass some girls in town, and just about a billion more things that had kept Jin Ling impossibly busy.

Even that particular afternoon when the idea returned to him, Jin Ling was supposed to be working. He was trying to see if there was any way to reorganise the way Lanling Jin was run so certain people who had profited a little too much from Jin Guangyao’s less savoury decisions would be pushed aside, and that meant gathering a lot of proof of their suspected corruption (bills, mostly. It always came back to bills. Jin Ling was in��hell). Jin Ling was trying his best, and he’d been very serious all morning, but by lunch time he had a raging headache and decided he deserved at least a little bit of fun.

The most fun Jin Ling could think of having on a bad day was to spend time with Fairy, so he went to get her. The poor old girl barked happily at him when he came near her pen, and ran around him for a few minutes when he freed her. The man in charge of Lanling Jin’s spiritual dogs wanted to order her to stop and behave, but dared not to so when Jin Ling himself was delighted by his dog’s happiness. So what if Fairy wasn’t always as serious as expected? She was a good girl who had more than proven she knew how to behave when it was really important. Other people might say she was spoiled, but they said the same about Jin Ling anyway, so at least they were well matched.

When Fairy had calmed down, Jin Ling went out into the gardens with her, figuring they could both use the chance to stretch their legs. While walking, he gave her orders in and there, just so he could say he was training her, should anyone bother him. But in all honesty, he just wanted to relax a little and have fun with the one friend he had who didn’t care that he always said the wrong thing.

Although their walk didn’t have any particular aim, Jin Ling soon realised that they seemed to be heading toward the aviary. He hesitated for a moment, fearful Fairy might scare the birds, before deciding it would be excellent training. A good spiritual dog had to know how to ignore distractions… and Jin Ling liked the birds well enough, if only because he’d heard his father used to keep some, back in the days. Jin Zixuan, he’d heard some people whisper when they thought he couldn't hear, had been the sort of person more at ease with animals than people. Nobody would actually say it directly, but Jin Ling strongly suspected that he’d inherited his people’s skill from his father... though at least Jin Zixuan had been universally liked in spite of it, or so he'd been told. Jin Ling wasn't so lucky.

It was nice, in the aviary. A little noisy, sure, and the smell took some getting used to, but it was very quiet and there was rarely anyone there these days. Jin Guangyao hadn’t been very keen on animals, so he had kept only enough birds to show status, and the person in charge of those birds had other tasks to keep them busy, so the aviary was often empty of any humans. It had made it a good hiding place, when Jin Ling had been younger and slightly more temperamental than he currently was.

When Fairy started whining and growling at the birds, Jin Ling ordered her to stay put and continued walking alone among the cages.

He used to hide in that place a lot, back in the days. There were a few good spots, like between those two high cages… Jin Ling remembered getting in that little dark space when he wanted to avoid all adults, and sitting among the birds for a shichen or two until everybody was too worried over his disappearance to think of scolding him anymore. And he wasn’t the only one who had noticed what a good hiding place the aviary was, because one time…

Jin Ling gasped as the memory returned to him.

He’d been… ten, maybe eleven at most. Jin Ling couldn’t remember what trouble he’d caused that time, but Jin Guangyao had been particularly cross because they’d had guests, and Jin Ling had been his usual temperamental self, but in front of a whole bunch of sect leaders. Except Jin Ling hadn’t meant to cause a scene (he rarely did, even then) so he’d been upset at being scolded so harshly when he didn’t understand what the big deal had been… and he’d run away after shouting something awful about hating his uncle.

The aviary had been a good place to hide, as it so often was. Jin Ling had gotten into his nice little dark spot unseen, and prepared himself to wait however long it would take for everyone to calm down about what happened.

After a little while, two people had entered the aviary. Jin Ling hadn’t seen their faces right away, but cold sweat had run down his back when he’d recognised their voices.

“I really don’t think Jin Ling will have run here,” he’d heard Lan Xichen say in a very odd tone, quite different from the usual way he spoke.

“Really?” Nie Huaisang had replied, half laughing. “But I think it’s worth checking anyway, gege.”

Lan Xichen had laughed too. A real laugh, not just something polite.

It had been so odd to hear those two laugh, Jin Ling recalled. Back then, Lan Xichen had barely seemed like a real person to his childish mind. He was the mighty Zewu-Jun, practically an immortal already, aloof and always calm, and he didn’t just laugh like that. As for Nie Huaisang, he was always sad and pitiful, nothing at all like this laughing and teasing young man Jin Ling could hear but not quite see at that point.

Jin Ling had hesitated to leave his hiding spot to check if it really was them, or demons having taken their form… but if it was them he would have been punished, and if it was demons they’d have eaten him, so staying hidden had seemed more prudent.

He’d heard movement then, the rustling of fabric, and Lan Xichen gasping.

“Huaisang, not here,” Lan Xichen had said, trying and failing to sound scolding. “If someone were to come…”

“No one ever does,” Nie Huaisang had retorted. “I know, I used to come hide here when da-ge dragged me to conferences. It’s just us, gege, and I haven’t seen you in so long…”

“We’re meant to look for Jin Ling, A-Sang,” Lan Xichen had complained, sounding almost whiny.

Nie Huaisang had laughed again, and now he was coming into view for Jin Ling.

It might have been better to not see that, Jin Ling had thought at the time.

Because what he’d seen, then, was Nie Huaisang smiling widely, walking backward, pulling Lan Xichen by the collar. And Lan Xichen, who surely could have resisted if he hadn’t liked this, was following willingly, eagerly even, his eyes burning until he suddenly grabbed Nie Huaisang by the waist and he…

And they…

Jin Ling remembered crying out in surprise.

He hadn’t been used to adults kissing, or anyone at all really. His uncles had both taught him to be careful about showing affection, because of his status as sect heir, and they’d both made it clear to him that only married people should kiss.

Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang weren’t married, Jin Ling had known that. He hadn’t always paid enough attention to the lives of grown-ups around him, but Lan Xichen had been in Jinlin Tai all the time, and Jin Ling had heard both Jin Guangyao and Qin Su offer to help their friend find himself a suitable bride. They’d also offered the same to Nie Huaisang, and talked sometimes between them of how it might help lift the permanent gloominess of character that had taken over him since his brother’s death.

“Oh, shit,” he’d heard Nie Huaisang say, and somehow that had been the last drop for Jin Ling who had broken into tears.

It had taken Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang great effort to get him to calm down, and more still to convince him to get out of his hiding spot. But by that point they’d been back to their normal selves, Nie Huaisang a pitiful, panicky mess, Lan Xichen radiating calm to the point it became contagious.

“Jin Ling, will you do me a favour?” Lan Xichen had asked when the little boy had been standing in front of him. “What you saw just now… can you keep it a secret?”

Jin Ling had hesitated, still sniffling a little.

“It’s forbidden to do that,” Jin Ling had said, remembering his weird bastard uncle, the one they’d kicked out some years before. “Only married people can, and two boys won’t marry. Are you going to be punished if I tell on you?”

“Cut-sleeves aren’t allowed in Jinlin Tai?” Nie Huaisang had gasped, going from pitiful to angry until Lan Xichen motioned for him to calm down.

“There was an incident a while ago, that Mo Xuanyu boy,” Lan Xichen had explained to his friend, before looking back at Jin Ling. “But Mo Xuanyu wasn’t punished because he liked boys, it was for being forceful about it. You understand the difference, A-Ling, don’t you?” Jin Ling had nodded, more to please that kind man than out of real understanding. “You are a good boy. To answer your question… no, we wouldn’t be punished, not really. But it would make some people unhappy, and we need more time to prepare for that. You understand, right?”

“Like when I break something and I don’t want to admit it right away, but if I calm down then I can tell jiujiu or shushu?”

Lan Xichen had nodded, smiling so gently that Jin Ling had been a little flustered.

Come to think of it, he’d always been a little weak to that kind smile the reallygood Lan had. So weak that he had promised to keep Lan Xichen’s secret, and had done so for years now, never thinking much about it again, never catching any sign of these two being more than friends. Maybe it had just been a fling between them, and that was why they hadn’t wanted to go public about it.

Considering everything that had happened, Jin Ling hoped for them that it had never been serious.

Still, as he walked among birds and reminisced about that incident, Jin Ling finally remembered that idea he’d very nearly had two weeks before: if he wanted to seduce a Lan, he needed the help of someone who had done it before. This meant either Wei Wuxian, who was awful and unbearable and hadn’t realised Lan Wangji liked him until Jin Guangyao told him while holding him captive, or…

Or Nie Huaisang, who hadn’t seemed to be having any trouble figuring out on his own how to get a Lan to like him, judging by what had happened some years before.

With the beginning of a plan forming at last, Jin Ling returned to Fairy's side to give her all the petting she deserved. If his hunch was the right one, then he'd be even busier than before in the weeks to come, so better give his dog a lot of affection while he could.

#xisang #zhuiling #jin ling #nie huaisang #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #operation woo a lan

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curiosity-killed · 4 years

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a bow for the bad decisions: chapter 17

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(on ao3)

“Zewu-jun has invited me to a medical conference in Cloud Recesses,” Wen Qing remarks from across the desk. Frowning, Jiang Cheng looks up from the latest report out of the oldest class of juniors to gauge her reaction. Their dishes have already been neatly stacked on the tray to be returned to the kitchens, and tea has been traded for wine in their cups. Wen Qing studies the invitation as if looking for something hidden between the lines. “Do you want to go?” he asks. She hums, pursing her lips in thought. “It would be a good way to re-enter society, as it were,” she says. “Zewu-jun’s invitation provides a solid backing, and some of the Nie physicians I worked with will likely attend.” She passes the invitation over to him, but even reading it twice, he can’t find any faults in Lan Xichen’s impeccable calligraphy.

“You should take Xingtao,” he says as he returns it. “A few of the upper level juniors are ready for a trip like this, too.”

He hates the idea of sending her off on her own, but he’s already expected in Lanling at the same time. Besides, he doesn’t think he ever wants to step in Cloud Recesses again. He doesn’t know whether he or Lan Wangji would be the first to throw a punch, but either way, he’s not particularly interested in providing an opening. “Mm,” Wen Qing hums. “Yuanxing and Suichun would benefit from attending, as well. They’ve both shown an interest in working in the remote reaches; building some relationships outside the sect would serve them well.” Privately, Jiang Cheng thinks the two junior assistants would show an interest in anything as long as Wen Qing was the one to suggest it, but he keeps that to himself. It’s not like he can really blame them. The two weeks pass quietly, and on the morning he is to depart for Lanling, he gives Wen Qing a light kiss and asks her to be careful. She rolls her eyes but smiles, pulling him back for a second. She’s radiant today in a deep Yunmeng teal and a red underlayer. He doesn’t think he’ll every stop feeling a little breathless looking at her, but he’s grown to enjoy the feeling. Ostensibly, his trip to Lanling is to speak with Jin Guangyao and Jin Zixuan about the upcoming night hunt hosted jointly by Lanling Jin and Yunmeng Jiang. In reality, they wind up spending as much time cradling their niece and nephews as discussing business. Baby a-Zhu is just old enough to be held by others, and Jin Guangyao hovers the entire time he’s in someone else’s arms. “Relax, a-Yao,” Jin Zixuan laughs. “Remember how Wanyin was the only one who could calm a-Ling when he was this age? Rusong will be fine.” ‘Rusong,’ Jiang Cheng mouths at the infant dozing in his arms. He’s never going to be used to the Jins’ tradition of saddling babes with courtesy names and then actually using them. Even the Gusu Lan wait till they’re at an age to start training. “He’s just so delicate,” Jin Guangyao admits, sounding a little helpless. It’s out of respect to his office as Chief Cultivator that Jiang Cheng doesn’t actually laugh at Jin Guangyao’s concern. There’s a tug on his skirts, and Jiang Cheng looks down to see a-Ling clinging to the fabric by his hip. “Jiujiu, can I hold baby a-Zhu?” he asks. Jiang Cheng hesitates before nodding toward the windowseat on which Jin Zixuan and a-Mu are sitting. “Sit up by your father, first,” he says. Jin Ling hurries to obey, scrambling up to sit nestled into Jin Zixuan’s side. His father’s eyes go soft and warm, one hand lifting to stroke his hair. Jin Ling hardly notices, fixed on Jiang Cheng as he walks over and carefully deposits Jin Rusong into his cousin’s lap. Jin Ling’s small enough that Jiang Cheng keeps his hand under the baby’s head, and Jin Zixuan reaches out to help support the little one. “Hello a-Zhu,” a-Ling says solemnly. “I’m your big cousin a-Ling.” Jiang Cheng does snort at that, but it’s quiet enough that Jin Ling doesn’t seem to notice. “When you’re big,” a-Ling says, “you can practice swords with me and jiujiu and we’ll be the two prides of Lanling.” Something squeezes in Jiang Cheng’s chest, an old ache. Jin Ling’s grown up on stories of the Twin Prides of Yunmeng, mostly told by his mother but every now and then by Jiang Cheng himself. He’ll never meet Wei Wuxian, but he’s grown up hearing about his bravery and cleverness. He doesn’t know to connect that storied hero with the Yiling laozu, isn’t old enough yet to understand why Yanli and Jiang Cheng can’t hide the bittersweetness of the stories no matter how they spin them into fairytales. “No fair!” a-Mu protests. “We’re two prides!” Her eyes scrunch up like she’s about to start screaming, but before she can, Jin Guangyao steps in to kneel just before her and catch her chubby fists in delicate hands. “Xiao-Mu,” he soothes, “it’s alright now. You can all be the prides of Lanling together, mm?” Something twinges in Jiang Cheng’s chest at that, a strange jealousy. It’s not as if Jin Guangyao knows what the words mean, really. They’d never meant anything to anyone beside him and Wei Wuxian — and after everything, maybe they’d only ever meant anything to Jiang Cheng. A-Mu sniffs, her lips still trembling, but she turns her big wet eyes on Jin Guangyao and doesn’t scream. “Xiao-shushu,” she whines and sticks her arms out. He breathes out a sigh-like laugh and shifts to scoop her up onto his hip. No matter how many times Jiang Cheng’s seen him hold a-Ling and a-Mu, he still always seems a little nervous, like he’s afraid he’ll break them. A-Mu holds no such concerns and latches on with her arms and legs, burying her face in Jin Guangyao’s shoulder. Watching, Jin Zixuan shakes his head. “If he weren’t so busy being Chief Cultivator, a-Yao could run a thriving business taming little demons,” he snorts. Jin Guangyao’s lips quirk up at the corners though he doesn’t look up from where he’s soothing a-Mu, and Jiang Cheng bites back a laugh, a sudden sorrow pinching his heart. It still always feels strange, feels like a betrayal, to sit in such close company with them. How many times over the years had he and Wei Wuxian griped about Jin Zixuan’s terrible arrogance and absurd pretentions? In the years before the Gusu lecture, they’d plotted pranks and mischief for every Jin visit to Lotus Pier: one of Wei Wuxian’s talismans conveniently located to trip Jin Zixuan and knock him into a shallow, stagnant pond; a few extra spoonfuls of chili oil in his food till sweat beaded at his hairline and his eyes watered; climbing onto the roof above his guest quarters in the middle of the night and scraping thin branches against his windows until he was convinced there were ghosts clawing at the walls. And now he sits beside him, sharing near-jokes and commiserating about his toddlers’ mood swings. Jiang Cheng had Wei Wuxian at his side for twelve years — less than that, if he took into account his missing months and that year and a half in Yiling. What will happen when Jin Zixuan has been his brother-in-law for the same time? Will there come a day when Jin Zixuan is more his brother than Wei Wuxian? Guilt tightens in his throat at the thought of replacing his brother, no matter how accidental or out of his control. Whether he wants it or not, there will come a day when he knows Jin Zixuan better than he ever had a chance to know Wei Wuxian, when Wei Wuxian is a time-faded memory with only the brightest pigments still sticking out while Jiang Cheng continues to live on. On his return to Lotus Pier, he goes to the ancestral shrine. Lighting the incense, he bows amidst the first thin tendrils of smoke and settles back with his hands over his thighs to gaze up at the three tablets. Mother would have suffered qi deviation to know Wei Wuxian’s tablet stood among their family, but he and jie hadn’t needed to talk to know it would be this way. He was their brother after all, after everything. “Mother, Father,” he greets, “a-jie is doing well. Little a-Ling has started his initiate training and a-Mu is in a hurry to catch up with him. We just finished construction of new quarters for junior disciples here, to handle the larger class sizes. This year will be our largest since — since the war.” He falls quiet, gaze dropping down to the thin yellow incense smoldering. The scent of smoke is gentle as it drifts on the evening breeze. “I hope you are pleased by how we have grown,” he says quietly. Releasing his fingers from where they’ve knotted into his skirts, he breathes out a quiet sigh. He never talks to Wei Wuxian when he visits. It still feels too strange, too wrong. Ever since the failed summoning, he’s carried some lingering superstition that if he speaks to him as he does his parents, it will condemn Wei Wuxian’s spirit to some limbo, trapped for all eternity. Instead, he kneels in silence and closes his eyes against the memory of a shoulder rocked into his, of a cajoling voice in his ear. In another life— He’s out on the pavilion behind his study when Wen Qing arrives. He hears her first, her sure strides across the wooden planks, and then feels the warmth of her press close to his side. Lifting his arm to admit her, he hums a little in pleasure at the feeling of her tucked up beside him. She smiles up at him, a small, soft thing he sees only rarely and almost exclusively in private. “How was the conference?” he asks. “Good,” she says, leaning her head against his shoulder. Her arms slip around his waist loosely. “I have a good deal to consider.” That is, in its own way, her highest compliment. He snugs his arm around her, pleased, and they settle into a comfortable quiet. Stars glitter on the water before them, a speckling of pearls in the night. “What do you think of children?” His eyebrows shoot toward his hairline at the question. It’s not that he hasn’t thought of it, of course, it’s just — well. He’s never let himself think of it outside of daydreams or brief fantasies. “I thought this was a medical conference,” he replies before swallowing, a little unsteady. “What do you think of marriage?” Wen Qing pulls back, and he glances down even as his hand tightens in reflexive fear. There’s a smile curving up the corners of her lips and amusement in her eyes, though, and he relaxes an inch. “Is that your idea of a proposal, Jiang Wanyin?” she teases. He huffs, but she laughs. She doesn’t say no. In the morning, Jiang Cheng rises early and visits the smith who replaced the one who forged Sandu and Suibian. She took over the forge after her uncle and his entire family was killed in the massacre, and she’s forged every pejian in Lotus Pier since then. He picks up a jade hairpin, too, for good measure. Wen Qing is a pragmatic woman, but he thrills a little at the thought of lotuses in her hair. Time rolls on, unfathomably steady, and the years accumulate like droplets in a river. Chifeng-zun dies a month before their wedding and Wen Qing takes the news with thinned lips and her hands laced together. He’s not sure if she liked the man, but she respected him, had still visited when she could to help him. Jiang Cheng sees Lan Wangji on night hunts sometimes, always too frequent for his liking no matter how many months slip between them. He’s always there for the ugliest hunts, the ones reeking of resentment and demonic cultivation. The way his gaze falls on Jiang Cheng is sharper than any sword’s bite, and Jiang Cheng riles under the absurdity. What are you looking for, Lan Wangji? He wants to spit. Do you really think he’d come back to you? He doesn’t say it. He doesn’t want to hear any answer that might come. His brother’s dead. He saw it. He did it. Still, deep in the darkness of his belly, a stubborn hope holds roots. Their wedding is a quiet affair, small. Jie cries even as she smiles through the whole event, and the hug she gives Jiang Cheng beforehand is tighter and fiercer than any since the war. “A-Cheng, I’m so happy for you,” she says, and then they’re both crying. They have so little family left, and neither care much for ostentation. If any of the other sects have objections to his choice of wife, they’re welcome to raise them at the next conference, when he has Zidian in hand. He’s not about to have a Lan at his wedding banquet, and Nie Huaisang’s still in mourning. They bow together and he lifts the red veil to find a smile, radiant and small and just for him. He didn’t know how much happiness could hurt before. He hadn’t realized how it could burn like a star behind his chest, all overwhelming glow. Jin Xue is born three months after the wedding, and Jiang Cheng can’t stop himself from melting at the sight of his littlest nephew cradled in his wife’s arms. She glances up, catches his eye, and hides her smile by turning back to the baby. Soon, he thinks, and his heart kicks a rabbit beat into the back of his ribs. Four and a half months into the first pregnancy, something goes wrong. Jiang Cheng is left outside the infirmary as Xiong Chunfeng tends to Wen Qing, and when he’s finally permitted to enter, both women are pale and drawn. The scent of blood lingers in the air though the sheets have been changed and Wen Qing bathed. Xiong Chunfeng bows to him and leaves them. “It happens,” Wen Qing says evenly. “Usually not so late but.” She swallows and looks to the side, carefully composed. A crack splits through Jiang Cheng’s chest at that, at how tightly she holds himself. He takes an involuntary step forward. “A-Qing,” he says. Clenching her jaw, she closes her eyes and a furrow of pain creases her brow. He steps forward, wraps his arms around her like he can protect her from any of this. Shuddering, she collapses into his arms and the tears start in quiet, aching sobs. He holds her close, presses a kiss to the top of her damp hair. After that, they turn their focus to the matters of the sect, allow themselves some time for healing. Yunmeng Jiang grows under their watch, excelling in cultivation and medicine alike. Disciples from the outer villages come in flocks, and some of the other sects have started sending their pupils for brief exchanges. Each summer, jie and Jin Zixuan bring their children to visit for a month at a time, and the halls and docks of Lotus Pier ring with children’s laughter. Jiang Cheng pushes himself into training both with his senior disciples and on his own. He sets bars higher and higher, throwing himself into the challenge of making this borrowed core his own. He meditates and spars and practices until Zidian sings like an extension of his soul, till Sandu answers his commands before he’s had time to fully think them. He spars with Bujue until they’re both winded, and Bujue collapses on his back in the dust. “Zongzhu,” he pants, “the disciples are never going to get a night hunt in if the beasts see you. Even demons would run.” He scoffs and kicks at his cousin’s ankle, bullying him back onto his feet for one more round. Smaller sects start protesting when Jin Guangyao pushes to expand his watchtowers, and little Jin Rusong pays for their aggression, poisoned by the same sweet cakes that leave his father bedridden for two weeks. Gifts from the Cai sect of Haodangchuan, to celebrate the child’s fourth birthday. Jiang Cheng cannot speak against the ruthlessness the Jin sect shows in dealing with the offending sects. He can’t know what it’s like, not really, but he sees the way Jin Zixuan holds a-Ling a little closer and he can understand. Five years after they marry, Jiang Lu comes screaming into the world. She’s small and red-faced and has approximately five strands of hair on all her head. She is so beautiful Jiang Cheng breaks down into tears. He carries her everywhere Wen Qing will let him, and for the first time since his father died, Jiang Cheng passes work off to Bujue instead of doing it himself so that he can spend more time doting on his daughter. “She is going to be the most spoiled daughter to ever come from Yunmeng,” Wen Qing sighs in dismay. “You are a perfect little pearl, aren’t you?” he coos as a-Lu wraps a tiny hand around his finger. “And you’ll grow up strong and safe and so good! Yes, you will.” “You are ridiculous,” Wen Qing says. She leans against him, one hand settling at his back while the other reaches over to adjust the blanket wrapped around their daughter. “The little pearl who defeated the great Sandu Shengshou,” Wen Qing singsongs. “You could be a legend at less than a year.” Jiang Cheng snorts and turns to Wen Qing. “Her mother already lays claim to that title,” he points out. She smiles and leans up to kiss him. And then, all at once, it is thirteen years since his brother died, and Jin Ling is ready for his first big night hunt. His nightmares have grown rare, and when he has them, they’re more often bizarre than familiar: that a-Lu has found a chicken the size of the moon and refuses to come home unless they let the chicken come, too, or that jie has run off to be a rogue cultivator on Baoshan Sanren’s mountain. Once, he has a dream where Jin Zixuan takes up musical cultivation using the pipa and no one has the heart to tell him he’s terrible. He can’t meet the man’s eyes for three days after that. Yunmeng Jiang has prospered, and when Jiang Cheng looks out over his home, he breathes in peace. More days than not, the warm loop around his wrist brings comfort instead of pain. “If you wished, you could visit their graves,” he says now. “We’ll be right there.” Wen Qing hums and seals the jar of herbs she was checking before making a note in her inventory. Her hand lifts absently to rest on her belly, and he resists the urge to ask if the baby’s kicking again. “The hunt will be disruptive,” she says. She looks up and gives him a softer look, adding, “Qingming, perhaps. A-Lu’s old enough to visit.” He relents and drops his arms as he finally gives in to his desire to step around and wrap his arms around her waist from behind. He’s out of her way, this way, and she gives his hand a gentle squeeze before reaching for the next jar of medicine. “Will her little sister be ready to travel by then?” he asks. “Or brother,” Wen Qing says. “Brother?” he echoes. It’s been six months now, and he still hasn’t quite gotten over his excitement at a little sibling for a-Lu. Even after years with jie’s children, every addition to their family feels somehow healing, something like the seeds of the future taking root and turning toward the sun. “Just a feeling,” Wen Qing says. Jiang Cheng hums, resting his chin on her shoulder. A little brother, then. From the hallway, he hears a familiar set of steps and even more familiar voice, lilting and cooing. He hides a smile in his wife’s shoulder before straightening. “Ah you are such a cute little rice ball, I’m going to gobble you up!” Bujue calls. “Om om om no more little rice ball.” Pealing laughter rings out, all giddy and delighted, and Bujue steps into the doorway with one of a-Lu’s bare feet alarmingly close to his mouth as he pretends to nibble on her toes. Shaking his head, Jiang Cheng crosses his arms. “You are going to give her the strangest fears, a-Jue,” he complains. Straightening, Bujue turns to push his lip out in an exaggerated pout at a-Lu. “A-Lu,” he says, “is your Yu-gege scary?” She laughs, wriggling in his arms. She’s really too big to be carried around like this, but that hasn’t stopped any of them. “No! Yu-gege is good!” she chirps happily. Bujue turns a triumphant look on Jiang Cheng, who rolls his eyes and extends his arms in a clear order. A-Lu is, as always, delighted as Bujue sets her on her feet so she can run over and tackle Jiang Cheng’s knees. Her little arms barely extend around his thighs, and she turns her head to fix him with a bright grin, her chin pressed into his leg. “Baba!” she greets. “Hello, you little monster,” he says, bending down to pull her up into his arms. “What have you been doing all day?” Looping her arms around his shoulder, she sets into a delighted retelling of every event of significance that has occurred since he saw her at breakfast. For a child that spent an hour sleeping in the afternoon and most the rest of the day in lessons, it is a surprisingly long list. Many of them have to do with the fish in one of the back ponds, which have been claimed by a-Lu, Xingtao’s son, and the daughter of one of the senior disciples who came to Lotus Pier after the war. “And a-Hun’s mother said we can practice with the little swords if we’re really good, and his mama said that we were going to be the best cultivators since Baba and Hanguang-jun!” she says, and Jiang Cheng valiantly resists the urge to wrinkle his nose at Lan Wangji’s title coming out of his daughter’s mouth. He may take some small satisfaction in the way she trips over it a little. He doesn’t want her to get it into her head to show that man too much deference, after all. “Jiang Lu will be the best cultivator since Jiang Chi,” he says, wiggling his nose against her forehead. “A mighty warrior.” She giggles and pulls back, even as her hands tighten in his collars. Setting down her inventory, Wen Qing reaches over to pinch a-Lu’s cheek. “Mighty warriors have to do well in their lessons,” she says. “Did you behave for Zheng-xiansheng?” “Yes, mama!” a-Lu answers, bobbing her head in a vigorous nod. “A-Lu was really good for Teacher. I counted ten sticks and drew shapes for Teacher.” Wen Qing hums in acknowledgment and brushes wisps of hair back from a-Lu’s face. “Very good,” she affirms. “Now give your a-die a big hug before he has to go.” “Why does Baba have to go?” a-Lu asks, brow wrinkling. Jiang Cheng hitches her up on his hip and frees one hand to tickle her side. Immediately, her consternation dissolves into bubbles of laughter, and she wriggles closer as he resituates his hand beneath her. “I have to go help your cousins a-Ling and Ruxia,” he explains. In the last year, a-Mu has started insisting on going by her courtesy name everywhere while Jin Ling stubbornly sticks with his birth name. When he’s feeling sentimental, Jiang Cheng will admit only to himself that it reminds him of when he and Wei Wuxian received their courtesy names: Wei Wuxian had been so delighted with his he’d stopped responded to a-Ying at all, while Jiang Cheng’s courtesy name always left him feeling like he was trying to fit into shoes three sizes too large. That’s mostly where the similarities end. Both jie’s children have grown up with their father’s stubborn pride and Jin Mu with a temper that people often claim comes from their uncle. Neither he nor jie will say it, but that anger’s older than him: the older she gets, the more Jin Ruxia is the spitting image of the grandmother she never met. “I can help!” a-Lu exclaims. “I’m good at helping.” Beside him, Wen Qing lets out a little laugh. “You’re very good at helping, a-Lu,” she affirms, “but I need you to stay and help me, alright?” It takes a moment before a-Lu decides that’s a satisfactory option. She wraps her arms around Jiang Cheng’s neck in a throttling hug before wiggling to be set down. With a last kiss to Wen Qing, he turns and heads to Lanling. He’ll have enough time to have dinner with jie and bounce little a-Xue in his arms, and then he’ll leave with the eldest two in the morning. Only a handful of senior disciples are accompanying them, mostly to help support the kids while they travel. Even with how much the two of them have been practicing lately, it’s a long flight to Dafan Mountain.

#mdzs #cql #the untamed #untamed fic #my writing #chengqing #BABIIIIIIESSSS #and the end of coming up with courtesy names thank god

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