#the other disciples are howling with laughter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tanoraqui · 4 years

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hey, pls tell us about those 'kidnapping sizhui back to the burial mounds' aus? 'grave dirt baby'? 'speaker for the dead'? put me down as Scared! and! Intrigued!

Alright, so, the au I’ve mentally titled Speaker for the Dead is inspired by this fic series, which I think has great concepts but wildly insufficient follow-through on consequences

edit: er, this is gonna be the first of several parts. At least 3.

You know the Cluster in Steven Universe? Think of the Burial Mounds like that. Hundreds, maybe thousands of restless souls; some shredded, some simply lost; all neglected. Forgotten. Stewing in their own resentful energy and their exponential shared resentful energy, trapped in these abandoned lack-of-real-graves and forged over time into a nearly-single mass of rage and loss and unfinished business.

And then someone came along - well, was bodily dropped from a height - who could match them rage for rage and loss for loss, unfinished bloody business for unfinished bloody business. No one living and perhaps no one dead remembers if he said, “serve me, lend me your power, and I will carry your sentiments into the living world”, or if the Burial Mounds said, “serve us, wreak our fury and sorrow upon the living world, and in turn you will live and wield our power.” Or maybe it was an instant mutual recognition and agreement?

Well, we all know what happened next. And then he came back, their deathly messenger, and brought others, and for a brief while there was...life, inexplicably, in the land of the dead. Stubborn, hopeful life.

Then death swept through once more, from the outside this time, and the Burial Mounds took their diplomat into their embrace - but they’d gotten a taste for having their voice heard, now. The living far and wide had buckled under the force of their weeping rage, shared the burning sorrow of their thousand dead hearts. And there was one living thing left on their grounds sympathetic to their power...

But not because he shared their rage, loss, unfinished business - save in that he was young, and all his life was unfinished before him. And he was starting to understand loss, as the rest of his family died out of sight. Mostly he was sympathetic in the other way: kind and accepting, and even as a child disinclined to forget those abandoned by everyone else.

Well. Disinclined to forget intentionally. Because a three-year-old isn’t designed to be swarmed by the thousand and one voice(s) of the Burial Mounds, howling their rage and loss and determination to be heard.

A-Yuan would have died that day, if one ghost in particular hadn’t been too fresh to have sunk into the horde. Barely aware of his own death yet, save that it had hurt, the Burial Mounds’ previous master/messenger stepped in between the boy and the onslaught of the dead - and he was a warrior and defender, he always had been. It had served them well when their unfinished business was little more than the bloody spread of death.

It’s hard to say what exactly happened, then. Suffice to say, once the dest and resentful energy settled - and certainly by the time the cultivator in white arrived - the Burial Mounds had a representative to the living again, their roots sunk deep into his soul, and their representative had a guardian.

Lan Xichen was very carefully not wondering where his brother had gotten this child, not wondering at all - why question; there were far too many orphans, these days, and of course Hanguang-jun was noble enough to save one even while wounded to near death himself.

But the fact remained that the boy - A-Yuan, Lan Yuan now - was laced with incredibly persistent resentful energy. The healers had noticed it first and done their best to cleanse it, and the best of the healers of GusuLan was no small effort. At first, it had seemed to work - the darkness stopped wisping from his lungs when he coughed; the cough and fever themselves disappeared. But still the resentful energy remained, a patina of grime on an otherwise pure soul, and even when Lan Xichen himself played Cleansing, it only seemed to fade, not fully dissipate.

A-Yuan grew sick again, feverish and weeping, complained of hurting in the way of a small child too miserable to give clear answers. Lan Xichen stayed with him, playing Cleansing through the night, and by the wee hours of the morning the boy was positively listless - and still, under close inspection, resentful energy clung to him.

Lan Xichen closed his eyes and sat back to meditate for a moment. He had to collect himself.

His brother was asleep in the next room over. He’d been asleep since he got back from...somewhere, nearly collapsing off his sword with blood pouring from every whip mark and with a feverish child in his arms. His continued unconsciousness was partly at the order of the healers, partly of his own accord.

Multiple rules forbade superstition and the taking of omens, but Lan Xichen could feel in his heart that if the boy died, Lan Wangji wouldn’t wake. Or if he did, he would be...empty, the way he’d been for years after their mother’s passing. The way he’d been, to be quite honest, until Wei Wuxian walked into the Cloud Recesses.

Meditation didn’t help. Lan Xichen picked his [xiao] again and began the first notes of Cleaning, pouring every ounce of power he had into the music. On the bed, Lan Yuan whimpered weakly.

There was a rattling from his waist, where jade keys to all the wards of Cloud Recesses hung as a badge of office. An instant later, something yanked Liebing from his hands and flung it across the room, and with the same force shoved him backward. For an instant, he saw a figure standing above him, dark-robed and terrible.

Then it was gone, a mirage of the flickering lantern - but on the bed, A-Yuan had moved. Instead of lying flat, he was curled up as though leaning against something, clutching the air near his chest like something invisible had been placed there for him to hold. ...Hovering slightly above the mattress as though on a lap, and tired tears spilled from his eyes; he murmured something too quiet to hear.

(Cool hands picked A-Yuan up and held him; a hand brushed through his hair and a gentle voice said, “Shh, shh, A-Yuan, it’s alright. I’ve got you.” He looked up to see a pretty face and soft, sad smile, clad in robes that were dark and smelled of damp and blood.

“Mama?” he said blearily. It wasn’t right, but it was the closest word he had for how safe and loved and somehow refreshed be felt. He clutched the roughspun robes like they might vanish from his grip.

“Is that what we’re working with?” The man’s smile turned teasing, and he held A-Yuan a little closer. “Sure. I did birth you from my own body.”)

Lan Xichen picked himself up carefully, retrieved Liebing from beside the far wall and eyed the boy on the bed. Some presence watched him back - resentful, to be sure, but not like any spirit he’d ever felt. The tokens representing the wards against resentful energy and restless ghosts had both stopped shivering - because it was quiescent, or because it was already inside?

He needed answers, but at the same time, he very much needed to not have answers, because they might force him to a decision that his brother would never forgive.

Lan Yuan has never left the Cloud Recesses since he arrived. This wasn’t entirely abnormal - he’s only just six years old; there are few reasons for a child that young to go beyond the wards. There are excursions for hikes now and than, to introduce the children to nature, but something always interfered - illness, other duties or even punishments. There is the Spring Festival in Caiyi Town for which disciples of all ages are permitted one day free of all responsibility, including the youngest who are taken down with appropriate adult minders. But Lan Yuan always filially elected to use the special dispensation of this holiday to spend all day with Lan Wangji (per Rules 267-270, exceptions to seclusions were allowed for close family, at the Sect Leader’s discretion.)

In his third year of seclusion, Lan Yuan now age six and bubbling enthusiastically about the tales and treats he expected his friends to bring back from the festival, Lan Wangji had asked why he refused this holiday. Wide-eyed and pious, Lan Yuan had replied, “Because I want to spend time with Father!”

Sensitive to too-wide eyes, and too aware of his own shortcomings in the area of festivity and excitement, Lan Wangji had pressed to be sure that this was how he wanted to spend his day: sitting quietly inside, playing music, practicing reading stories of Lan Sect history?

Pressed, Lan Yuan admitted that his Mama said he shouldn’t go outside the boundaries of Cloud Recesses unless his father was with him.

It wasn’t the first time this “Mama” had come up. Lan Yuan’s Mama said it was not just permitted but required that he run shrieking up the path to the jingshi, to greet Lan Wangji by tackling him about the knees with gleeful laughter. Mama said it was okay if he didn’t eat dinner when he was supposed to, Lan Yuan insisted, because the food was “boring anyway.”

“Mama”, Lan Wangji was very, very sure, knew a song that Lan Wangji had composed at the age of sixteen and only ever played for one other person, because somehow Lan Yuan knew it to hum himself to sleep on restless nights. It was possible that he simply remembered it subconsciously from the times he couldn’t otherwise call to mind - music was like that. But when asked, he took on the overly cute look of an untrained liar rather than the dreadful uncertainty that slipped into his voice when questions arose of any time before the Cloud Recesses.

Lan Yuan had never stepped foot outside the Cloud Recesses since the day he’d been carried in, yet it was Lan Wangji who hesitated on the border, marked on this back hill by nothing more than a thin strip of bricks at the edge of the field.

“Rabbits!” Lan Yuan cried, and tugged him forward by the hand. “There are rabbits!”

“Xichen would not have misled you,” Lan Wangji said, amused.

“I know.” Lan Yuan immediately slowed down contritely, and looked up at him with confusion. “But there are no pets allowed in the Cloud Recesses.”

“The rabbits are not pets,” said Lan Wangji, perhaps more automatically defensive than the occassion called for. “They simply find this meadow enjoyable, as it is filled with clover and, coincidentally, sometimes scraps from the kitchens. Also - ” He gestured to the line of brick several feet behind them - “we are no longer in the Cloud Recesses.”

“Huh.” Lan Yuan cocked his head as though this was something he’d never heard before, rather than something he’d been explicitly told they were going to do, this first day of Lan Wangji’s release from seclusion. “It’s colder, in a nice way. And there’s a lot of - ”

He shut his mouth abruptly, as though someone had hurriedly told him to stop talking.

“Rabbits!” he shouted suddenly, for all appearances remembering thei presence with absolute delight. “Can I play with them, Father?” He pulled on Lan Wangji’s hand again. “Can we play with the rabbits?”

“You can and you may,” said Lan Wangji, and let his hand go.

Lan Wangji was itching now, burning, to draw his guqin. But of course this permission meant that he had to spend several minutes carefully coaching Lan Yuan on the way to quietly approach a rabbit without causing it alarm, how to offer some of the lettuce they’d brought and how to pick one up and hold it safely. Mitigating his impatience was the unabashed awe on Lan Yuan’s face when the first rabbit let him pet its ears, and his own gratitude at how several of the older rabbits seemed to remember him. (Or possibly they just recognized “man in white sitting quietly with lettuce”, and found it a more attractive invitation than “quietly bouncing six-year-old with lettuce.”)

But, fascinated though he’d been, Lan Yuan quickly lost interest in the rabbits. He pet them absently, but kept looking around as though more interesting things were happening in the clear air. A sudden wind whipped though the meadow, acrid with resentful energy, and he scooted to Lan Wangji’s side.

(”Everyone shut the fuck up!” Mama’s robes and hair lashed as resentful energy rushed out from him, pushing back the clamoring crowd of ghosts. His fists clenched and his eyes flashed red, and the scent of blood rose about him. “You will line up single-file to talk to A-Yuan, if and when I say you get to talk to him! Right now, he’s playing - oh, look, Hanguang-jun’s getting out his guqin, probably to play Inquiry. Go bother him!”)

Lan Wangji couldn’t stand it anymore. He settled Wangji on his lap and set his fingers for the strong opening chords of a general Inquiry, to announce his presence and summon any spirits within range - and paused, and leaned over to ask Lan Yuan, “Is your Mama here, now?”

“Ye - ” Lan Yuan squeezed his lips shut and shook his head. “I mean, no. Who’s Mama?”

“Lan Yuan,” Lan Wangji said sternly.

Lan Yuan shrunk, but didn’t break.

“Mama’s a secret,” he whispered fiercely. “It’s a rule, like on the wall.”

“I know.” They’d had this conversation before, and Lan Wangji had never pushed beyond this. Even a child was allowed secrets, and Lan Wangji was in forced seclusion, punishment for a crime he didn’t regret but would accept the consequences of nonetheless, in spirit as well as letter (fave for A-Yuan’s near-daily visits - but that was allowed.) Moreover, even from the secluded jingshi, someone might hear his Inquiry and have questions of their own, and- and what if he was wrong? The disappointment would be like death again.

But now he was not just out of his house but beyond the border of the Cloud Recesses for the first time in three years, far from any plausible earshot save the rabbits’ and soaking in sunlight that reminded him of a smile. Now, he thought he’d seen a figure in black for a split second when the cold wind blew. and suddenly the idea of being right and not knowing it was more horrific than any other outcome.

He swallowed a rasping, Please - unseemly, and unjust to burden a child with. He gathered parental authority about himself like a cloak and improvised, “Rabbits do not like secrets. It is rude to keep them in this, their home.”

Lan Yuan bit his lip, and Lan Wangji gentled his voice. “They will still be secrets away from the rabbits’ meadow, and there will be no consequences for any broken rules.”

“Oh!” Lan Yuan sagged against Lan Wangji’s side and let out a sigh like he was coming home at the end of a month-long night hunt. “Thank you, Hanguang-jun.” He bowed formally, from the seating position, in the direction of the greatest cluster of rabbits, which seemed unconcerned by the gathering resentful energy. “And thank you, rabbits, for your hospitality!”

He sat up, posture Lan-perfect, and pointed. “Mama’s there, pushing all the other ghosts into line. He says they have to talk one at a time, like in lessons. Are the ghosts in lessons, now? Is Mama a teacher, like Senior Feng and Great-Uncle?”

Lan Wangji, quite honestly, didn’t hear most of his son’s questions. He was too busy playing, perhaps more hesitant than he had ever played Inquiry in his life, Wei Ying?

He held his breath as the small light of a lost soul alighted upon the strings and plucked out, I am Ying Huang.

The breath seemed lost for good.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Ying,” said Lan Yuan. “Um - ” He glanced at Lan Wangji and back at the space above the guqin. “Yes, I- we- Father can tell your husband that it wasn’t his fault - oh wow, you had a baby? What’s its name?” A pause. “That’s pretty! I bet she’ll be pretty, too - you are, so I bet she’ll be pretty just like her mother!”

The chatter, a six-year-old’s mix of earnestness and polite nothings mimicked from adults, reeled him back from that distant, breathless place. Inquiry was still in effect and the spirit continued to play, far more slowly than Lan Yuan responded, Tell Ying Chao it was not his fault, nor the baby’s.

“A-Yuan,” Lan Wangji managed. “This - Ying Huang. She is not your Mama?”

“No?” Lan Yuan looked utterly baffled. He pointed to somewhere directly ahead of him. “Mama is right there. He’s tall and wears black and has blood all over, sometimes, when he’s angry or sad. Miss Ying is here - ” he pointed at the space on the opposite side of the guqin - “and she’s short and has a greenish dress, and only only has blood on her - oh! Mama’s coming here now...”

Another spirit light solidified as it approached the guqin. This one was brighter and darker at once, strong and resentful - yet not...active in it. It simply was.

It hovered over the strings for a moment, quivering side to side like the eyes of a shamed person, before alighting and gently plucking out, Hello, Hanguang-jun.

There was no way to know that it was him, and yet... Lan Wangji was breathless again, but this time it felt as though he simply had too much inside him to have room for air.

His fingers moved over the strings without conscious direction. He thought he might be mouthing the name. Wei Ying.

The guqin language of Inquiry was necessarily limited; there were only so many combinations one could make of seven strings. There was only one clear affirmative, yes, and no formal or informal intonations.

Nevertheless, Wei Wuxian managed to express, Yeah. Lan Wangji could imagine him shrugging, giving a rueful smile. Sorry about the whole ‘Mother’ lie. It was his idea.

Understandable. The rhythms of Inquiry called for question and answer. Did you not birth him yourself?

“Mama is laughing,” Lan Yuan announced, as pleased as though he’d organized every part of this himself. He sat up straight, hands in his lap, every inch the proper Lan disciple. “Father, can- may we just talk, now, instead of using Inquiry? It’s much faster, and I can understand it.”

“I’m afraid I cannot understand Wei Ying any other way,” said Lan Wangji, feeling real regret, On the guqin, Wei Wuxian played, We really do need a better way - this is boring. But a way with less soul-binding resentful ghost fuckery.

(Another word that was absolutely not in the vocabulary of Inquiry. Wei Wuxian, as always, managed anyway.)

Three years of parenting practice had one of Lan Wangji’s hands protectively on Lan Yuan’s shoulder, the other darting across Wangji’s strings. What do you mean, soul-binding resentful ghost trouble?

Wei Wuxian’s soul moved back from the strings, fading until it was barely visible. Lan Yuan nodded and shifted until he was sitting beside the guqin, between them.

“Mama says don’t worry, A-Yuan is fine,” he told Lan Wangji seriously. “He says it’s a...” He narrowed his eyes in focus. “‘Severe but non-ma-lig-nant case of resentful energy inculcation and imprinting, with a side order of a little bit of passive possession. By the conjoined spirits of the Burial Mounds.”

Lan Wangji must been visibly horrified, because Lan Yuan looked worried as he leaned forward and patted his knee.

“It means I can talk to Mama and other ghosts,” he explained in his own words, “and they can understand living people better when I’m there.” His face twisted skeptically. “Because that’s special?”

“It is very special,” Lan Wangji confirmed, still reeling a little from “passive possession by the conjoined spirits of the Burial Mounds.” But if Wei Wuxian said it was fine, then it must be fine - he would, Lan Wangji was exquisitely sure, mask any danger to himself, but never to A-Yuan.

Still, his gaze flicked to beyond Wei Wuxian, where there was nothing but silence, sunlight, and idle rabbits sleeping, or gnawing down the grass - and, he was sure, still a line of ghosts apparently determined to speak to his son.

Wei Wuxian must have noticed the movement of his eyes, because Lan Yuan began reciting dutifully again: “Mama says that there’s fourteen more spirits here, not counting Ying Huang - who went back to everyone else, now. There’s a draw, he thinks, to A-Yuan, even if they don’t know con-scious-ly that he can talk to them. And, of course, the handsome - oh, the great Hanguang-jun, known master of Inquiry.”

"Will they accept Inquiry with myself,” Lan Wangji asked, “while Lan Yuan continues to play with the rabbits?”

Lan Yuan watched the space where Wei Wuxian was.

“’Lan Zhaaan,’” he repeated, less certainly. “’You’re too - sorry, Mama. ...Yes, Mama.” He turned back to Lan Wangji. “He says you’re a very good dad and he’s so glad you’ve learned so much since the street in Yiling.”

Lan Wangji felt his ears turn red, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t exactly a high bar, to have learned how to treat a child better than to stand in silent bewilderment while the child wailed at one’s feet.

Oh.

“A-Yuan. Do you remember...”

Lan Yuan shook his head, looking down in shame.

“That is fine,” Lan Wangji said firmly. “Do you wish to resume playing with the rabbits?”

Lan Yuan’s entire being seemed to brighten; if he’d been a rabbit himself, his ears would have stood straight in excitement. But he looked guiltily at the line of waiting ghosts.

(They were mostly common people of Gusu, ghostly echoes of clothing in rough cloth and dull colors. Many were bloody, from missing limbs or cut chests or more, others were simply pale and thin. One had the ghost of a cat draped stubbornly around her shoulders. The farther they got from him, the less clear they were to see, but sadness and yearning radiated from all of them, even the ones who scowled or glared, dark energy flicking around their forms like a shadow of the aura Mama could summon.

“Go on, A-Yuan,” said Mama, with one of his warm smiles that felt like home. “Your dad and I will handle the deathly supplicants, but we can’t play with the bunnies nearly as well as you will - but be careful! They might recognize that you’re part radish, and try to eat you!”)

Lan Yuan leapt to his feet with a grin, and bowed quickly to both of them. “I’ll be careful! Thank you, Mama; thank you, Father!”

“Go slowly,” Lan Wangji called as he darted off. “The rabbits - ”

The rabbits had already scattered in the face of Lan Yuan’s run, save for one particularly lazy old one with a whole leaf of lettuce to itself.

He will learn, Wei Wuxian said on the guqin, with a meaningless trill that Lan Wangji had no trouble translating as a smile.

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sheadre · 3 years

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Aurora Borealis (Jiang Cheng x Reader) Part Four

Summary: Zhu Ran'En (Reader) the imperial princess, was sent into exile for a crime she did not commit. Meeting Jiang Wanyin, the Yunmeng Jiang sect’s leader was not just a chance meeting. Their fates were written in the stars however, her relations to the royal family will never let her live in peace. How will she manage to save the kingdom while trying to keep Jiang Wanyin away from the snakes of the royal family?

Word count: 2502

Warnings: fluff, romance, idiots in love, awkward flirting, blood and violence later

Previous Chapter - Series Masterlist

The morning breeze felt nice against your skin as you stood in the doorway of your room. It was surprising how easily you were buttering up to Jiang Wanyin. You haven’t noticed when you started smiling at him when you crossed paths. He still seemed annoyed most of the time but the slight blush on his cheeks occasionally made your heart flutter in your chest. He was definitely one of a kind. Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun both stayed in Yunmeng helping with planning the defense when the rebellious army would arrive.

They were all experienced in battle so most of the work was theirs while you gave them information about the three generals. You were skilled in getting information from anyone. It was fascinating how easily a man’s tongue would spill the secrets once a pretty lady shows interest in them. Sending Lili to coax those information out of men was always a good decision. You were already grateful for Lili’s help, she was an enigma. It always shocked you how she changed into a completely different person once she needed to. Usually, she was a quiet, dutiful young lady but when it came to missions you sent her on, she changed into a boisterous courtesan in seconds on the spot or any character she needed to. Sending her out to gather information all alone always made you worried though. She only had her knife with her but somehow, she always got out of every situation. You looked to your right seeing her form approaching you quietly.

“Your highness, I am ready to go” she spoke up from your side as she lowered into a bow. She was dressed to take off for the journey you tasked her with. Her small face and delicate figure deceived anyone especially with how you made her dress like a noble lady. You stretched your arm out and grabbed her wrist gently. Looking deeply into her eyes, you wished her a safe journey. At the thought of harm coming to her, your heart clenched in worry and pain. You promised yourself you would keep her safe once you brought her down with yourself. She was out of control of her fate, she depended on you completely back in the palace and now outside of it. Your eyes looked at her trying to make sure she will do as you told her.

“You know what you have to do once you encounter any danger” you whispered. “Don’t hesitate, Lili.”

“But-“

“No, Lili… promise your mistress that you will do as told” you insisted. She was too important for you to let her get into trouble. She almost lost her father for a simple little mistake, you won’t let her family lose her because she helped the fallen princess. You won’t drag down anyone else with you.

Lili nodded solemnly with her eyebrows furrowed but her lips were sealed. You watched her leave Yunmeng with a heavy heart, worry etched onto your face. You decided to let her go once she was safe and everything was settled. She deserved a happy life, a loving husband and children. Serving the fallen princess wouldn’t give her that but you had a hunch that she would try and protest. You sighed heavily and closed the doors of your room.

Days passed quickly, you spent most of your time with Jiang Wanyin to the elders’ delight. It was funny how they were hoping for a blossoming romance and the promise of heirs. You knew they were concerned about the future of the sect and you couldn’t really blame them. In the Imperial Court, the Emperor had a bunch of ministers to prepare that part of his life. You didn’t believe that counting mathematically these things would ensure a good future. Especially with how Zhu HuaJin and the second prince ended up.

Back in the palace you always thought you would be married off to some other prince or noble man. No one really picked your interest back then but honestly, you never really looked for romance. Your days were filled with trying to avoid getting killed. You never really admitted after you left the palace but… you were living a much more tranquil and balanced life out here. Maybe going back would be a mistake. You were no longer a part of it, you could simply disappear and never look back, turn your back on them. Could you?

“Are you even listening, your highness?” suddenly Jiang Wanyin’s angry voice brought you back from the ocean of your thoughts. Your head quickly turned to him as you blinked and smiled sheepishly at him.

“Nope”

You saw the vein on his forehead visibly throb especially after Wei Wuxian’s howling laughter at your reply. Your eyes flitted to Hanguang-Jun who sported a small, almost invisible smile. It was fascinating to see how his features changed from such a small thing.

“Why are you even here if you’re not listening to a word I-“

“I didn’t mean to be rude, Jiang sect leader” you sighed interrupting him. You knew pulling on a mock-concerned expression on your face would only fuel his anger but you had to do it to emphasize the fact you were jesting. “I am simply troubled by the thought of my cousin and the second prince’s reign over the court.”

“The quicker we defeat the rebellion, the sooner you can get back to court, your highness” Wanyin replied crossing his arms in front of his chest. “And we do that if you listen carefully to the plans otherwise you will run around the battlefield without a clue what you’re supposed to do, your highness.” You narrowed your eyes at him pointing a finger at him as you walked up to him. He kept looking down at you with his chin tilted up as you stepped so close to him. Then you grinned at him playfully.

“Jiang Wanyin, you just want me out of your hair, right?” you poked him in the shoulder playfully and distinctly heard Wei Wuxian whisper: “Get married already…”

“Ha, finally we understand each other, your highness! I want nothing more than for you to leave Yunmeng and let us simple people live our lives!” the sect leader huffed making you chuckle.

“Oh, I would return to you after I got rid of those bastards, don’t you worry” you grinned at him making him blush furiously. Your finger drawing a line across his jawline as you smirked at him while purring: “After all, the elders are already planning our wedding.”

“Who- Who would-“ the sect leader wasn’t even able to finish his sentence in his anger and embarrassment. While he sputtered trying to find his words, you leaned up on the tip of your toes and pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“You would definitely like that” you winked at him and left the room quickly. The blush on your cheeks betrayed you as you tried to pretend to be calm. His skin was so soft against your lips. You smiled with your heart trembling in your chest. Maybe in another life… you could be someone he could marry.

Training became a normality to you besides you were relishing in the way Jiang Wanyin was staring at you from somewhere he thought you couldn’t see him. Everyone was surprised by your skills in swordsmanship and you couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t usual that an imperial princess could use a sword properly. You picked it up while no one paid attention to you back in the palace otherwise the eunuchs along with the princess dowager would’ve been so pissed off you wouldn’t have gotten out of your room for the rest of your life.

You stopped hitting the dummy with your sword and lowered it to your side. You panted softly as memories were haunting you. Every time you thought about Zhu HuaJin or the second prince, you were moments from going on a rampage in your fury. Then your ears perked up at the soft rustling of dry leaves.

“Jiang sect leader, if you want to play, you should just come out and ask” you spoke up your lips pulling into a mischievous smirk. As you turned to him, you noticed the slightly taken aback, cautious expression the angry grape had. You knew you had to calm yourself so you sighed exaggeratedly before pouting. “Please, please, come play with me, Jiang sect leader!”

“What was that?” he asked hesitant to take a step closer to you. His face showed how serious he was being. Your heart jumped into your throat and you felt a thin layer of sweat forming on your forehead. Did he see anything? Did he see any of your true power? “What were you doing just now?”

“What do you mean?” you asked back feigning confusion. He saw it… or at least a glimpse of it and if he did… he must be terrified of you now. Then his expression changed, anger turning his handsome face into a terrifying mask. You felt like his anger alone could make the world turn dark and stormy. His hand grabbed your wrist and pulled on it roughly so you lost your balance almost falling into his chest. You looked up at him startled, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about! Show me!” Jiang Wanyin shook you violently and let you go, almost tossing you back. Wobbling on your feet you barely managed to steady yourself.

“Wanyin… it is not what you think it is” you tried to explain but you knew he wouldn’t listen to you. “I-“

“Show it to me!” he cried out startling you again and you knew servants and disciples must’ve heard him too. You exhaled defeatedly, closing your eyes you let the power course through your body. You feared to reveal your true self for a reason. You could only hope that he will understand.

Jiang Cheng’s PoV.

The sect leader watched her many times, training with the dummies and her skills were surprisingly good. He would’ve never thought a princess from the imperial court would be able to wield a sword. Her beauty sometimes caught him off guard making him stare at her for too long. Today was another occasion to keep an eye on the princess but Jiang Wanyin didn’t expect to see what he saw.

The dark glow around her body as she practiced grew darker and stronger the angrier she got. He watched her with bated breath waiting for something but she stopped right when something could’ve happened lifting her head. His eyes widened when he saw her (e/c) eyes glow with an eerie emerald green. Her features though looked solemn, devastated, pained. His feet moved on his own, drawing her attention and her eyes quickly turned back to the way they were, the darkness around her receded back to her body.

“Jiang sect leader, if you want to play, you should just come out and ask” she greeted him with her signature mischievous smirk but it seemed off. It was so different even if it looked the same. His heart was pounding in his ribcage as he watched her. “Please, please, come play with me, Jiang sect leader!”

“What was that?” he asked hesitant to take a step closer to her. He needed answers, his mind was flooded with questions as he looked at her. “What were you doing just now?”

“What do you mean?” Zhu Ran’En asked back, her beautiful face a mask of confusion but Jiang Cheng knew she was aware of what he wanted from her. That mask of hers she always pulled on when she was in a tight situation, it wasn’t as perfect as she thought. Maybe it worked on the residents of the palace but he has seen a Jin Guangyao level schemer. Jiang Wanyin could see her face change as she saw his rage showing on his features. He gritted his teeth angrily because even now, even in such a situation she tried to hide something from him. They were partners in this, he trusted her enough to let her pull him into her plans. His hand grabbed her wrist and pulled on it roughly so she lost her balance almost falling into his chest. Zhu Ran’En looked up at him startled, her eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “You know exactly what I’m talking about! Show me!” Jiang Wanyin shook her violently and let her go, almost tossing her back.

“Wanyin… it is not what you think it is” she tried to explain her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She looked miserable compared to the way she looked when all that power was unleashed from her body. She looked deathly, now? Now she looked weak and pathetic. Jiang Cheng felt sorry for her in a way but he couldn’t stand anymore secrets and lies. “I-“

“Show it to me!” he cried out startling her again. Zhu Ran’En raised to her full height while sighing defeatedly and closed her eyes. He was ready to see it and fight. If she was a threat, she wouldn’t stand a chance against three powerful cultivators along with the many disciples.

Black and green mist engulfed her body completely before she opened her eyes which were glowing with the same green light. He watched her transform with wide eyes before the mist lifted from her form revealing a dark green scaled dragon. Its scales were so deep green that they almost looked black, like the midnight sky. He only noticed her body curling around him in the small courtyard when the mist completely dissolved.

“Wanyin… let me explain… please” her voice startled him as the large dragon lowered its head and averted its gaze from him like it was… embarrassed? “I was cursed before I was sent into exile. I was begging for power to the Heavens, I was begging for them to give me power in exchange of anything they could want. I begged them because I wanted to protect my little sister… she’s in danger living in the palace all alone.”

“What curse?” Jiang Cheng whispered as he stared at the magnificent creature in front of him.

“I am to roam the world until eternity for the protection of the innocent” she answered truthfully. “And I need your help with that, Wanyin…”

Then the dragon lit up with blinding green light and disappeared. He had to close his eyes so he wouldn’t be blinded and when he opened them again, he saw Zhu Ran’En standing in front of him. For the first time he spotted her, she looked small and weak, like a porcelain doll that could break by a simple touch to it. He could tell she was frightened and when he reached out, she took a step back startled.

“You need my help” he said with a firm tone. His palm facing the heavens as he beckoned her towards him. “Then I will help.”

To be continued…

#romance #fluff #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #jiang cheng x reader #wangxian #lan wangji #lan wangji x wei wuxian

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

Tell me about that time the Yiling Patriarch accidentally acquired a harem?

Untamed verse

It was Nie Huaisang’s fault.

He would argue it was the fault of the extremely stupid fierce corpse that violently lunged right at him when he was trailing behind his older brother and the others on a night hunt he didn’t want to go on, causing him to hide behind his saber and therefore accidentally taking the first kill of the night; his brother had been so pleased (and trying very hard not to laugh at him) that he’d agreed to Nie Huaisang’s request for a vacation.

He’d even allowed him to go visit Yiling, with one of their cousins saying in passing that Nie Huaisang should probably not let anyone know who he was or why he was there given the political scandal it would cause. Nie Huaisang had left while his brother was still arguing with their cousin about whether or not the Nie sect gave a single fuck about political scandal; he was pretty sure the actual argument they were having by proxy was his brother yet again defending Nie Huaisang’s right to be the heir, and those arguments went better if he wasn’t around.

So he went to Yiling to visit Wei Wuxian. He liked Wei Wuxian, they’d been good friends at the Cloud Recesses no matter how short a time, and he’d liked him every time they’d met afterwards, and really it seemed rude not to come with house-warming presents even if he hadn’t been invited the house-warming party itself.

“I fled here in the middle of the night, in the rain, illegally,” Wei Wuxian said. “There was no party.”

Nie Huaisang patted him on the shoulder. “It’s fine, really. I promise I’m not insulted. I’m very forgettable; you wouldn’t have considered involving me at all.”

“I’m tell you, I didn’t have a party.” Wei Wuxian frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe I should have a party?”

“We are not having a party,” Wen Qing said, sounding a little testy, but Wei Wuxian handed her a plate of meat – it was a traditional house-warming gift, and it wasn’t as if the Unclean Realm wasn’t chock full of people who would be more than happy to go practice their sabers against wild boars so that Nie Huaisang could drag along a preservation chest full of pork – and she stopped complaining.

“We could invite Jiang Cheng,” Nie Huaisang said. “You know he can’t resist an invitation to a party.”

“Did you not hear about the fight -”

“Party invitation.”

“…it might make him less angry, actually.”

“I’ll go get decorations!”

That was how Nie Huaisang found himself in the town at the bottom of the Burial Mounds, shopping; that part was probably still fine, but then he’d made some sort of slip-up in casual chitchat and everyone in the town figured out that he was visiting the Yiling Patriarch.

“Are you one of his disciples?” someone asks.

“No, of course not,” Nie Huaisang said at once, because forget his brother, he had some very scary great-uncles that would find him and rip him to pieces if he ever denied being a Nie.

“Then why are you here? I thought he’d been rejected by the whole cultivation world.”

“Uh,” Nie Huaisang said.

“Is there going to be trouble?”

“I don’t –”

“They’re celebrating something,” another person chimed in, looking at the bags Nie Huaisang was carrying. “What could they possibly be celebrating? A marriage?”

“Definitely not,” Nie Huaisang said.

“You couldn’t possibly be here willingly, could you?”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said, finally annoyed. “I was sent as a sacrifice by the cultivation world to join the dreadful Yiling Patriarch’s harem as a panacea against his threats to conquer the entire world through a little bit of unorthodox cultivation that involves a great deal of complicated flute playing and exactly zero practice because he’s obnoxiously talentedly like that. It’s all very tragic at first, but eventually we will overcome all obstacles and he’ll make me his empress of an empire composed of ghost puppets. Happy now?”

Maybe he should become a writer or something, because apparently they were very happy about it, and the story spread like lightning.

“I cannot believe you,” Wen Qing said, since Wei Wuxian hadn’t yet caught his breath once from all the howling laughter he was doing. “Of all the irresponsible, ridiculous –”

Nie Huaisang wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do about it, and it only got worse when Lan Wangji showed up to visit and just – refused to leave.

That surely wasn’t related to the harem rumors, though of course the presence of an unbearably pretty man like Lan Wangji just made the rumors worse, especially since he was very obviously from a different sect than Nie Huaisang.

According to the rumors, there was intrigue now: a more beautiful concubine had appeared, challenging Nie Huaisang’s efforts to get the redeem the vile Yiling Patriarch through the power of love and a great deal of sex, and of course there would be all sorts of jockeying for position happening.

Jiang Cheng’s furious arrival to yell at Wei Wuxian (and to attend the party, because he really couldn’t resist a party invitation – he hated being left out) only convinced them all that there were at least three separate sects fighting for attention, as if Wei Wuxian were an emperor.

“I can’t – I’m dying –” Wei Wuxian sobbed with laughter, burying his face into Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “Lan Zhan, help. It’s too funny. I’m an emperor now. And I can’t even grow potatoes!”

“Radishes are more efficient,” Wen Qing hissed.

“The common people are really very strange,” Nie Huaisang opined from where he was drawing over in his corner. Wen Qing believed everything to be his fault, so he’d promised that he’d do something nice and calming and not disruptive like drawing; he’d bought himself some ink and a great deal of paper as proof of his good intentions. “They’ll believe anything.”

“Don’t you start,” she snapped. “You’re drawing porn. Of this!”

Wei Wuxian’s head snapped up. “You are? Is it any good? Wait – who is it of?”

“It’d better not be of me with him,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, serving himself some of the pork with radishes. “I’ll kill you.”

“Mostly Second Master Lan,” Nie Huaisang admitted. “He’s the only one staying still long enough for me to get a good view.”

That made Lan Wangji frown and come over – which, joke’s on him, Nie Huaisang has no shame about his excellent artistic skills.

“Oh, well done,” Wei Wuxian said, peeping over Lan Wangji’s shoulder at the artwork. “Is that me with the legs in the air?”

“Yes. Can you pose later so I can get the face right?”

“Obviously yes!”

Lan Wangji’s ears were very red for some reason.

“Shouldn’t Wei Wuxian be the attacker?” Jiang Cheng asked, coming over as well. “Not that I care about any of this. But if the story is that he’s the emperor –”

“I can’t disappoint my readers by breaking up my romance with him,” Nie Huaisang explained. “And between me and Wei-xiong, I’m obviously more fit for the role of the pure maiden in distress – there’s a great deal of convention in erotic art circles, you wouldn’t expect it – and so I’m having Second Master Lan be the seducer instead, see? That way there is even more conflict.”

“I’m still going to kill you for including my brother,” Wen Qing said.

“I didn’t give him any sex scenes! He’s a wallflower! And you’re the Yiling Patriarch’s right hand man; what more do you want?”

“For my brother not to have fans that want to see him naked!”

“How do you even know about that?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“I read the mail,” Wen Qing said. “We’ve gotten an awful lot of it in the last week.”

“…is there any about me?” Jiang Cheng, who’d never met a competition he didn’t have to win, asked.

“Oh, yes, you’re very popular, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “I included some falsified backstory about the two of you being childhood friends torn apart by Wei-xiong’s turn to evil and unorthodoxy –”

Both of them looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“– and now everyone wants to see you have a sandwich with the Wen sibilings.”

“Have a sandwich?” Jiang Cheng asked, distracted. “Are they hungry or something?”

“They certainly want to lick –”

“A sandwich means what,” Jiang Cheng yelled after Wei Wuxian finished whispering in his ear.

#mdzs #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #lan wangji #jiang cheng #my fic #my fics #oneiriad #wwx harem

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applejuizz · 4 years

Text

irrational goals x and x mindless illusions

after years of relentless searching, kaito has finally managed to find ging. as the two hunters pass the evening in the mountains, ging tells a story of his past. characters: ging freecss, kaito (kite) pairing(s): ging x gon’s momma (in the past!) no warnings word count: 1.880

pretty much my headcanons on what happened to gon’s mother.

“For all those years that I’ve known you, Ging-san, and I would’ve never guessed you have a kid.” Ging’s laughter, loud and brash bounced off the cave walls and scattered along with the howling winds. “And I thought you knew better than to make assumptions,” the hunter replied wittily, his large, amber stare glinting with amusement.

Kaito huffed out a short-lived smile and took a generous bite out of his freshly-roasted fish. He chose to let the crackling fire fill the silence as he masticated, carefully pondering over his next words.

“You’ve left one hell of a legacy behind, you know. He’s got your willpower and plenty of potential.” In response, Ging grunted through a mouthful of fish. “He’s good with animals as well. He’d make an excellent hunter.”

Kaito raised his gaze slightly to catch a reaction from across the vivid flames of the campfire. Maybe it had been just a product of the lights and shadows constantly dancing on Ging’s features, but he could’ve sworn that for a brief, insignificant moment, his master’s petrified expression had twitched. Now, whether it had been the ghost of a smile or a grimace, he couldn’t tell.

“Looks like my son did quite the impression on you,” remarked Ging, swallowing the last of his bite. “He is definitely something. I’m surprised how you were never curious enough to visit. Poor boy grew up thinking his parents were dead.” “Good.”

The sheer finality in the hunter’s tone made Kaito’s head instantly shoot up to stare incredulously. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy, Kaito,” said Ging before his disciple could conceal his surprise, “hunters are greedy people. They seek adventure, despise routine and never settle. Bringing a kid into this world is a big and dangerous deal that we couldn’t bear.”

Then why did you do it in the first place? The question was entirely plausible, yet it died on Kaito’s tongue before he could voice it. It wasn’t his place to ask. Perhaps the boy was the result of an ordinary one night stand - that was quite often the case. Besides, he couldn’t imagine Ging lingering in one place long enough to fall in love and willingly father a child. Then again, he hadn’t thought it possible for the carefree adventurer to even be a parent at all, and he’d been proven wrong. In all truth, predicting Ging Freecss’s actions was a game of chance, similar to Kaito’s Crazy Slot, and the white-haired hunter wasn’t sure he liked that resemblance.

“Was his mother a hunter as well?” As he spoke, Kaito watched Ging’s posture stiffen, his usual relaxed attitude forgone. On second thought, it might’ve been more suitable to ask about his reasoning. “Who said anything about her? What did I tell you about assumptions?!” “You said ‘we’.” “What?!” “When you talked about bringing a kid into this world, you said ‘we couldn’t bear it’.” “As in you and me and every other fucking hunter in the world. Now stop nagging me.”

From the years he’d spent as his disciple, Kaito had learnt a lot about Ging as a hunter - extremely gifted, strategic, adventurous -, as well as a person - stubborn, unpredictable, carefree and at times, awkward. However, he had rarely, if ever got the chance to see a truly flustered, caught off-guard Ging. It took a lot to surprise him. Yet it seemed that the question Kaito had deemed innocuous had managed to utterly baffle the rogue hunter. He watched in awe as Ging’s features shifted through various phases of surprise, outrage and awkwardness, his foot nervously tapping the ground and his voice cracking with indignance. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” The only response Ging gave was a graceful, yet expressive burp. He deliberately avoided meeting Kaito’s eyes, busying himself with wiping clean of meat every little fishbone.

By the time he spoke again, the fire had considerably dimmed. “She is a hunter. Part of the association that helped me create Greed Island.” Kaito was leaning against a smoother portion of the wall, hands behind his head, eyes closed in contemplation. When his master spoke, he immediately turned to look at him. The black-haired man was staring pointedly at the dying fire, scattering the ashes with a stick in a halfhearted attempt of keeping it aflame. “Ging-san, you don’t have to talk about this if-“ “Just shut up and listen, ‘cause I’m not telling this story twice.”

Kaito settled back against the stone wall and listened.

“As I said, she was one of the creators of Greed Island, so we were both pretty young when we met- 18, I think. She was the friend of a friend, she heard of our project and she wanted in. We were fine with it, since she was a strong Nen user and her contribution has made the game what it is today.”

The cave entrance was growing darker by the minute as nightfall crept in. They would have to get some more firewood.

“While we were busting our asses off scouting the island and thinking up cards, we got to talkin’ and you could say we grew... close. She was pretty and as charming as they come, simple-minded, and always up for an adventure. And I was a bit of an impressionable kid.”

“We wanted to travel together. She was passionate about myths and languages, I liked ruins. A match made in heaven,” Ging chuckled bitterly. “Now, don’t get me wrong, ‘twas nothing official. We couldn’t be bothered to label anything. But one thing led to another, and all of a sudden we were a couple of dumb nineteen year-olds with a baby on the way.”

So, Gon was a mistake. Kaito had figured that much.

“Obviously, we had to push back our plans - we wanted to try and explore the Dark Continent eventually - and we had no idea how we were going to raise a kid together when we didn’t even know how to define our relationship, but we never thought about giving up Gon. Not once. Soon after we finished up the game, Daina gave birth. May 5th, 1987. Five months later, I was urging her to come with me on an unofficial, undocumented expedition near lake Mosubi.”

The sheer name of that place gave Kaito the shivers as he listened attentively to the other hunter’s story.

“She didn’t really want to go. Childbirth had changed her. She began to realize the risks we’d have to take, the high stakes, the danger that was awaiting and how inexperienced we really were. But I was having none of it. I thought I was invincible, and I thought I’d always get what I wanted.” There was a pause, and Ging cleared his throat almost awkwardly.

“So, I threatened to leave by myself. Woke up that morning and started packing. She got scared, like I knew she would; there was no way to stop me, so she eventually gave in.”

“You pretty much manipulated her into following you,” Kaito concluded. Ging continued to stare into the fire for a while before answering, and his disciple was almost sure he’d managed to piss him off again.

“Yeah. I guess you could say that,” he answered calmly. “Anyway, we left the baby in-game, summoned a Panda Maid to care for him and left. Long story short, something... beyond my understanding happened on that godforsaken shore and...”

“Did Daina...?”

“No! I mean... she disappeared. I have no idea what happened to her. I couldn’t look for her. It’s a miracle I even got away.”

Kaito let out a breath he hadn’t even known he were holding.

“And before you start to think I’m some delusional dumbass, the moment I got back, I went to Greed Island and summoned Double Postcard to the Dead. I’ve been doing it annually since then. No response so far.”

Ging needn’t explain more. Kaito knew Greed Island fairly well from the time he had attempted to clear the game, and therefore he had plenty of knowledge on the card system. Double Postcard to the Dead is a card which, if summoned, allows you to send a message to a deceased person of your choosing. If the person is truly dead, you’ll get a response within the next day.

“Anyway, after all that, I’d realized a couple of things.” Ging raised his pointer in the air. “First. I was going to need at least a decade of training, experience and qualifications to even pass lake Mosubi’s shoreline, and second,” he raised another finger, “I couldn’t raise Gon on my own. It was too dangerous to pursue my goals with him around, and he would’ve been better off living a normal life.”

“So you sent him off home.”

“And lost custody in court when Mito decided to sue me. The rest is history.”

There was silence as Kaito pondered over what he’d just heard. He supposed he could understand the reasoning behind Ging’s decision to leave Gon in someone else’s care, but he could’ve at least visited. Kaito was no king of morality, yet he couldn’t have lived with himself knowing he had a kid out there that knew nothing of him.

“I’m sorry.”

Ging’s eyes switched back to Kaito. He no longer looked lost in space as he made a dismissive hand gesture, very much characteristic of him.

“Don’t be. It was for the best. I would’ve been a crappy father either way.” There was humor in his tone and the white-haired hunter laughed cordially, but he could tell his companion’s words were more than just a joke.

The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became. Ging had decided to utterly avoid his son not only for his safety, but also out of a selfish, yet understandable reason. He couldn’t have possibly bore the embarrassment of looking Gon in the eye and telling him his mother had gone missing simply because he had dragged her into his irrational goals and mindless illusions.

But you won’t be able to avoid him forever, Kaito thought to himself. If that boy is anything like you, he won’t drop dead until he finds you. I’ve seen the look in his eyes. You’re in for one hell of a ride, Ging.

“Yo.” He was awoken from his reverie by the hunter’s deep voice. “I’m gonna go get some more firewood. You coming or what?”

Kaito had barely noticed that the sky had gone completely dark and the cave was only lit by what little was left of the campfire. He could barely distinguish Ging’s features anymore as he stood at the entrance.

“Sure. I wasn’t expecting you to spend the night here though, Ging-san.”

As they walked along the abrupt forest path, wind howling at their ears, Ging scoffed. “You and your damn assumptions.” He grumbled and pointed at the sky. “No stars. Can’t you smell the thunder? It’s gonna rain tonight.” Kaito doubted a little storm would stop Ging from leaving if he really wished to do so, but he said nothing. “Oh, and drop the honorific.”

Kaito must’ve looked extremely surprised because Ging spoke again, a smirk creeping on his face.

“Don’t look at me like that. You found me, so you passed your test. We’re equals.”

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh fanfic #hunter x hunter fanfic #ging freecss #ging freecss fanfic #kite #kite hunter x hunter #gon freecss #hxh headcanons

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ironharvests · 3 years

Text

creature of desire, you’ve a fever for the fire.

@bredfaith yajuu snickered, “the first step to any murder is to have fun & be yourself. "

mini-ficlet: in which godhood is a thing with teeth, sainthood was made to block the light, and kimimaro is just a man looking for divinity in the flesh.

“God is terror,” the old man used to say. his pupils blue skies were cloudy with cataracts and jaundice, but he always knew precisely where to bury his knucklebone blade in kimimaro’s flesh, subtle as a camellia, to really hurt. “She is thunder and lightning and boiling seas.” a petal blooming from his ribcage. “She is phantasm, she is black rot and sour things, she is pain and suffering and the ecstasy hidden in their blood-soaked dirt.” a bouquet, furious and glittering with rubies. “She is beautiful and sublime, glory and gore, and you are our offering to her: bone of her bone, made in her image.”

“’I am the bone of her bone,’” kimimaro whispered the clan prayers as the elders folded his spirit into his body and broke them in both in unending strokes. “In bleeding me, I am filled with her pain. In my brokeness, I am beautiful. In shattering me, you bring me closer to the Moon-eyed One.’”

beautifully broken. the child squirms under the lash, but does not whimper. beautiful. oh, how he wants to be something so simple as beautiful.

ii.

on the outskirts of water country, the boy meets a creature with a face like heaven and eyes deeper than any hell.

“God is a dream spun by the desperate,” lord orochimaru had laughed when kimimaro asked if they believe in heaven. their hand was long and smooth and cool to the touch when kimimaro fised his tiny hand around two of their fingers, and he had known in an instant that his hands were made to cling to theirs like a river-worn rock, like a knife handle, like prayer beads.

they were still in water country’s backwater wasteland where war was a cicada in summer, constantly shrieking its background song, and dead bodies were as common to see on the side of the road as toadstools. lord orochimaru thought nothing of making more of the dead. a band of bandits and the caravan they’d been attacking were cut down in a single stroke of blood and steel. kimimaro clung to the back of lord orochimaru’s robes as they led him through the carnage, stepping over the dead and onto the dying.

“Any man dreaming of god deserves to be sent to him, hm?” lord orochimaru pressed their delicate sandal against a dead girl’s cheek, running their eyes over her long black hair, her full cheeks, the maggots creeping from her fever-stretched mouth. “With all the other delusions. If the gods exist, I will kill them.”

kimimaro chewed his bottom lip, wrinkling his nose against the labored droning of horseflies. “I think. . .” lord orochimaru had looked sharply at him then, and it had taken kimimaro a moment to realize he had squeezed their hand hard enough for his wrist bones to break skin brush against their palm. still, he could not look away from their burning eyes — so like gold coins, or scorched suns, or divinity. “. . . I think that is what a god would say.” orochimaru had stared at him for a long unblinking moment before a smile eclipsed across their lips.

“Come along, Kimimaro-kun. Night will not wait for us.”

kimimaro knew in that moment that he was right: here before him stood god sheathed in snake’s skin, and it was his duty to love them in beauty and in horror.

iii.

for nine years, his was the path of the righteous man. where he walked, no doubtful weed could take root. where he lay his head, no dark dreams troubled dared trouble him. he basked unflinching in the violent brilliance of divine radiance, and he learned that a god hungers only for knowledge. the oldest fruit still proved ripest.

for nine years, kimimaro believed he knew the true face of god.

their hair was a river of his black blood. their eyes, midnight suns. their beauty was as elegant as the finest blade, and they knew him by his name. he questioned nothing. it was not the role of the devout to spit in god’s face.

it was only after his near-death that the truth had been revealed to him.

orochimaru was no god. they were terribly mortal, and their destruction was neither wanton nor ecstatic like the elders had foretold; they were cold-blooded and conniving where god was supposed to be hot-blooded and manic. the righteousness in him fermented over night. a false god. his purpose was a lie. his world folded like cards.

he dragged himself into the woods to die.

but of course he couldn’t get that right, either.

iv.

this is the part of his life he remembers little of: the wandering. the world is a smear of water colors. he weeps exactly three times over three years, and the weight of it nearly kills him. he’s dying, slowly. another thing he can’t do right.

and then, at his loneliest, he meets jūgo again; and it’s funny, really, because arguably jūgo is kimimaro’s greatest failure.

of course it is jūgo who saves him. he falls in love with him. of course: it’s the fairytale formula.

except there is a monster living inside jūgo with eyes like violence and a mouth dripping with blood, and when jūgo takes his hand kimimaro swells with pride, but when yajuu surfaces to wear jūgo like sheep’s skin, kimimaro’s skin waxes hot, wanes cold, and every nerve ending roils and sparks like a festival night sky.

kimimaro falls in love with the monster.

of course. of course. of course.

tonight kimimaro wanders through the woods, indifferent to the bite of mountain air. he moves through the trees like a breeze, following the spattering of innards and sweetmeats left in yajuu’s wake. he keeps his distance today, allowing yajuu to have their fun hunting. the cold cramps his right hand, and his knuckles split the skin just for the comfort of a familiar ache. for all the havoc it’s wrought on him, he doesn’t pay much attention to the pains of the body when there is so much to wonder about. he thinks about god and if she can hear him and if so, what does she want? he thinks about the moon and how if he raises his hand at just the right angle he can grasp it, and he thinks about how he does not know if that means anything, but it feels like it should. he thinks about insects and meat and rot and bile and—

a roar reverberates through the trees. kimimaro steps out of the copse and into a clearing, and there is yajuu.

yajuu’s hulking mass crowds a bear’s carcass, large hands that can crush boulders reaching into the sneer torn into the bear’s belly and wrenching out fistfuls of offal, viscera, sweetwet. the bear is still dying: its eyes roll sluggishly in its massive head, the droop of its eyelids matching the outpouring of its blood ( ecstasy; this is what it must look like, yes? ) and as kimimaro approaches he makes eye contact with it and holds its gaze as the lights go out. he lays a hand on its head and runs his hands through its thick brown fur, sinking his fingers into the warmth as he watches yajuu give worship to something much bigger than anything kimimaro has prayed to. yajuu notices him, and leers.

“Y’know, the first step of any murder is to have fun and be yourself,” yajuu snickers. kimimaro can feel the electricity spiking down his spine, can taste his heartbeat in his own throat.

covered in sweat and blood, their laughter wicked and dark as they spread the bear’s remains across the grass — it dredges up forgotten memories of his time imprisoned by his clan. little flashes of dancing and howling and screams around fire pits and human prisoners begging for release, and the crazed smiles on the kaguya’s faces as they nodded sympathetically and promised to release them with the edge of a knife as soon as their god had heard them.

but yajuu — yajuu is different. yajuu worships chaos without knowing they are its greatest disciple. they are not god, but they are something that would brush against her ankles; kimimaro’s sure of it.

and yajuu chooses to follow him. him. he does not follow the thought to its logical conclusion. he can’t.

instead, he touches his throat. brushes the warm skin there and thinks about the hot press of large fingers crushing down around it as he prays. kimimaro loves jūgo, but what he feels for yajuu is something a hundred times darker.

This furious love will choke me, he thinks, and the hopeless excitement of it all echoes through every inch of him. It will break me. And in breaking, I shall be made whole.

“Come, Yajuu, flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone,” he says instead, seafoam green eyes whipping themselves into summer storms as they fix on the ring of blood around yajuu’s mouth burning with cold heat. “Let us play a different game.”

#drabble.#drabble: kimimaro.#HEAVY TRIGGER WARNINGS !#tw animal death /#tw religious delusion /#tw child abuse /#tw cults /#tw cult think /#lmk if this needs more tags #i was really proud of this and i decided to give it a quick polish #headcanon.#headcanon: kimimaro.#bredfaith

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isabilightwood · 3 years

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THE PROBLEM WITH AUTHORITY - CHAPTER 9

Or, Sacrifice Summon! Jiang Yanli is here to make things right, be the ultimate big sister (step 1: bring back her dead brother), and maybe steal the Peacock throne in the process

[AO3][1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8]

The trees shivered under an unnatural fog. Yet the sky above was clear, save for the eerie crimson light of the stars. Every gust of wind against the leaves was a howling moan, every rustle of the undergrowth a giant spider yao gathering itself to lunge. Jin Tianyu wanted to go home. He was going to be an accountant under the Chief Cultivator and help him change the world. Important things. Not like stupid night hunting.

He didn’t need night hunting experience to do math.

But his instructors disagreed. Even Madam Jin had shaken her head when he asked for an exemption, and explained that he needed to be able to defend himself. He’d already delayed too much by avoiding night hunting until he was eighteen, two years away from his coming of age. But what could he ever need to defend himself from in Koi Tower, save the cheek-pinching fingers of elderly relatives?

And if he had to go night hunting, why did it have to be with Fan Caining? If only their regular blademaster or even Madam Jin herself ran these things. Then he would feel safe and protected, and not like his class’ ostensible teacher, appointed to ensure the group made it back in one piece, would turn tail and flee should they run into anything more dangerous than a single ghost.

Which they would. Besides their target, a guai formed from a carpenter’s worktable that had become animated, killed its owner, and run off into the woods, there had been reports of multiple yao formed from clouded leopards in these woods.

Not to mention the giant spiders. Jin Tianyu had had one on the ceiling of his room last night, and his roommate had refused to take care of it for him, right before rolling over and going right to sleep! He’d been forced to suffer through chasing it away with a broom by himself, whimpering all the while. And that was without the massive growth spurt resentful energy gave them.

Fan Caining suddenly swept his sword through the undergrowth, clearing out an ordinary pack of rodents. As he did so, something growled in the woods up ahead.

“That should draw something out.” He informed the group, though they’d been taught in class that the best way to draw out a dangerous guai or yao was to choose a battleground by scouting during the day, and using a lure flag with a limited distance to reduce the risk of attracting anything else.

How a bunch of rodents would draw out a murderous worktable, Jin Tianyu did not know. But it might bring out those leopards!

The senior disciple had a build that seemed to be made of squares, which also described his personality. Flat and boring, with a few pointy spots that made him dangerous to cross. Jin Tianyu had learned that the hard way when he suggested they might, possibly want to scout beforehand, and Fan Caining hit him hard across the back with the flat of his sword. The bruise had yet to fade.

Sure enough, a leopard yao with glowing red eyes pounced on his slightly older cousin as they entered the next clearing. She shrieked and whacked at it with her sheathed sword while Jin Tianyu and everyone else gaped. Even Fan Caining.

As his tangjie managed to get her sword between herself and the leopard, Jin Tianyu shook off his shock and drew his sword. He held it in front of himself like a spear and charged, yelling. Sword pierced flesh with sickening squelch.

He’d screwed his eyes shut to avoid looking, he realized, and opened them. The leopard was dead alright, and his tangjie alive if covered in the leopard’s blood. But it seemed Fan Caining had recovered at the same time he did. Either Jin Tianyu stabbing its gut or it’s beheading could have done it in.

“Thanks.” Tangjie said, as she used his limp arm to pull herself up. “I was starting to think no one would step in.”

The dozen other junior disciples looked sheepish.

“Of course,” Fan Caining drew himself up prouder than any peacock in the Koi Tower gardens, though she hadn’t addressed him.

The groaning noise sounded again, this time cut off with a wail.

Fan Caining waved him and the other junior disciples ahead as though nothing was wrong. Jin Tianyu cursed his luck for the thousandth time.

It was one of the outer disciples who first stepped in a trap. They tried to take another step, and found themselves immobilized at the edge of the clearing. Tangjie took a step forward and found herself shot up into the branches of the tree above. “I can’t — my hands are stuck to the branch!” She called down, in a panic.

Several other disciples moved to help, but found themselves in the same situation. Jin Tianyu’s limbs felt heavy, and he stood there dumb and immobile.

The groaning noise came again, but cut off in a laugh that could only come from a person.

Lilting laughter that sounded like his worst nightmare echoed through the clearing. Looking around, Jin Tianyu spotted a man dressed in black and silver reclining casually on a tree branch. Beautiful, in the way of jagged glass, only sharper. Like he would not only cut anything that got too close, but shred it into thin, unidentifiable slivers.

If I was better at verse, I could be a poet, and leave cultivation behind forever. Jin Tianyu thought absently.

The man looked familiar somehow, like he might have crossed paths with Jin Tianyu in passing. Except that Jin Tianyu had never left Lanling City before.

Fog rolled into the clearing, but only below the tree line, leaving the man clear and untouched above.

Jin Tianyu coughed. No, not fog. Powder.

Fan Caining stood in the center of the clearing, his sword shaking as he pointed it up towards the man. “Xue Yang? But you’re supposed to be —”

“Dead?” Xue Yang’s teeth shone white, bared in a threat, not a smile. “Yes, you did try very hard to make that happen. Too bad for you, I’m too crazy to die. Lucky for me, none of your friends are here this time to save you. Only a few tasty little children.”

To his surprise, Fan Caining did not try to run. Instead, he jumped up into the trees. “I can take you on my own, you weak little maniac.”

Xue Yang only laughed as he attacked.

Xue Yang. Jin Tianyu knew why he recognized him now. That was the former disciple brought in by the former sect leader, cast out by the current Chief Cultivator. The murderer of the Chang Clan.

He’d called them tasty.

Screw Fan Caining. They needed to get out of there.

Jin Tianyu tried to give himself leverage to get to his cousin by pushing against a tree, and found himself entirely turned around, no longer in the clearing.

He turned, and the trees seemed to spin around him. They continued to spin no matter how long he tried to stand still, stumbling, until finally he hit something solid and rough. A tree. He slid down it. Seated, his vision felt a little clearer.

He soon wished it wasn’t.

Something dropped from the tree to dangle in above Jin Tianyu. He dared to peak, and immediately regretted it.

The slack, inverted features of Fan Caining stared back, his eyes bulging from his head, tongue swollen and hanging from blue-tinged lips.

Jin Tianyu screamed.

He woke to Tangjie slapping his cheeks. “Tianyu! Tianyu, wake up!”

“What… what happened?” Jin Tianyu said groggily, as his memory began to return. He sat up straight. “Xue Yang!”

“He left, but I think there was something in that fog. You inhale the most of it, but all of us breathed in a little.” She explained. “We need to hurry back to the inn. The rest of the group has Cai-qianbei’s body. Come on, we need to go.”

She slung his arm around her neck, but as he stood, the vertigo returned in full force.

Somehow, they made it back to the inn, but he didn’t remember it.

A young man rose from a table, then he was doubled and tripled and on again. He wore gray, with a boar on his shoulder. That meant Nie. Jin Tianyu remembered that.

“Did the lot of you run all the way back here like that?”

“What?” Jin Tianyu asked, and the next thing he knew, the Nie disciple was keeping him upright by the elbow, taking his weight from Tangjie so she could collapse in a chair.

Jin Tianyu stared up into the Nie disciple’s face, at the angles of his defined cheekbones and jaw, with just the right amount of softness. Very symmetrical. He could do math with that face.

Pretty. He thought.

“Thank you.” The Nie disciple flashed him a smile that made him want to faint all over again. “You’ve got corpse poisoning. Let’s get some congee in you, now.”

He was seated and a bowl of congee appeared in front of him out of nowhere, as though it had already been prepared. Even though it was evening, and he didn’t think enough time had passed to make it.

Jin Tianyu couldn’t be sure, though. He was too busy floating, the only thing anchoring him to his body the burning pain on his tongue.

That faded as he forced down more of the bowl, and he realized it was chili. He could see the flakes reddening his bowl. Tangjie, who loved chili, had scarfed it down with no problem. Jin Tianyu tried to put down the bowl.

“No, no, you have to eat the whole thing for it to work.” The Nie disciple —who was even prettier now that his head was clearer — shoved the bowl back into his hands. “That was corpse powder you were poisoned with. You’ll die.”

Jin Tianyu shoveled the rest into his mouth.

The Nie disciple was tall. Very tall, as was the case for every Nie he’d seen with the sole exception of their current sect leader, but surprisingly thin, like he didn’t spend all his spare time building up the muscles the Nie were well known for. The hair braided up into his guan was lopsided, like he’d done it up without looking in a mirror. But even under the influence of the corpse powder, Jin Tianyu had been correct. His face was perfectly symmetrical, without a single blemish or pore to be found. It would have looked unnatural, were his perfect face not so expressive. His brows arched and lips pursed sternly, but giving the impression that he was laughing.

“Now, would you mind telling me what happened?” His beautiful savior asked.

Speaking over each other, Jin Tianyu and the other disciples hurried to do so. But by the next morning, when they gathered to leave for Koi Tower, their savior was gone.

In Nie robes and a face that did not belong to him, Wei Wuxian did not receive a second glance until he first set foot in the Unclean realm. Once there, he constantly felt eyes boring into his back, but when he glanced over, he’d find disciples hard at work on their forms or their noses buried deep in texts. Which only went to prove their curiosity.

Even with Nie Huaisang for a sect leader, it wasn’t every day that a stranger was brought into the sect and handed a high-ranking position. But the Nie Sect had few elders, and those they had were aged and gray because with saber cultivation, it was the weak who survived the longest. It seemed the Nie elders were retired in truth, pursuing hobbies like needlework and whittling and nagging their grandchildren to eat more.

By the time Wei Wuxian arrived in the Unclean Realm, Nie Mingjue’s body had been hidden away, though not yet buried, for reasons known only to Nie Huaisang. No one said anything about that, either.

“And since I’m the weakest of the lot, I’ll live to be a hundred,” Nie Huaisang completed explaining his free reign to lead his sect however he chose, unparalleled by any other sect even a single generation past its founding as they approached the gates to the Unclean Realm.

Right before dropping a bomb on his head in the form of unwarranted and unwanted respectability. “My closest sect siblings know my motives if not my plans, so no one will oppose appointing you to the vacant position of fourth disciple.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian sputtered, tempted to check if Nie Huaisang was running a fever. “What happened to the last fourth disciple?”

Nie Huaisang snapped his fan closed, and opened it again, staring off into the distance.

Touchy subject. Understood. “Forget I asked.”

“Let’s just say Jin Guangyao owes the Nie Clan more than one life.” Nie Huaisang said, before dragging him through the gates and launching into a series of dramatic introductions that left his head spinning.

Apparently he was going by Nie Wang, courtesy Xiaomeng now.

Wei Wuxian had not been consulted on this. Walking around with everyone thinking his name was hope felt precisely in line with Nie Huaisang’s sense of humor.

True to form, Nie Huaisang did not deign to explain until he wanted something. Despite copious amounts of pleading, Wei Wuxian was forced to wait through a restless night of nightmares and a morning while his apparent new sect leader caught up on work to get his answers.

Finally, Nie Huaisang summoned him around lunch time. He was set up in a pavilion in the garden, with a mountain of paperwork. The garden had been designed by someone with an eye for showcasing Qinghe’s foliage. A lotus pond surrounded the pavilion, and though its cultivated beauty was no match for the wildness of Yunmeng’s lakes, the carefully selected flowers staggered through the surrounding paths were like hidden gems, each intended to stand on its own.

There were birds as well, goldfinches and many others kept there not by cages, but by the feeders full of seeds spread throughout.

“So,” Wei Wuxian said as he sprawled on a bench across the table from Nie Huaisang, who did not look up from his work to greet him. “I thought I was going to be a rogue cultivator. But apparently you had other ideas.”

“If you’re going to pull this off, the easiest way to wander around without notice is as one of my disciples. As a rogue cultivator, you might gather some recognition, get invited along to visit sects and so on. As one of mine, well, there are Nie disciples everywhere.” It was deeply disconcerting to watch Nie Huaisang take something seriously. And he was serious about that paperwork, not even looking up to speak. “They get bored of me, and travel.”

“They’re spies, aren’t they?”

He lifted his brush from a page with a flourish, and pinned it off to the side under a weight to dry, immediately moving onto the next one. “Are you saying I’m not irritating enough to make people need a break? I must have an ulterior motive? I’ll have to try harder.”

“Oh, you’re very irritating. They’re just extremely loyal.”

“After the Sunshot campaign and the losses we had during Dage’s decline, both to desertion and other causes. And then the prospect of me. Well, anyone who’s left is basically family.”

He gestured at Nie Xiaodan, at that moment crossing the bridge towards the pavilion.

Nie Xiaodan patted him on the head as she passed by. “Don’t forget to order lunch, Zongzhu.” She said, and returned to discussing a night hunt with her companion. It seemed she had come for that reminder only.

Nie Huaisang beamed.

“Fine, I’ll pretend to be your disciple.” Wei Wuxian wanted to pretend he’d been given a choice.

“Excellent! We can get you a saber easily enough.”

Uh. He had told him what Wen Qing said about his core, right? Wei Wuxian was often terrible at remembering tasks, but he distinctly recalled completing that one. “I’m banned from resentful energy, doctor’s orders.”

“Our smiths can make sabers without binding an animal spirit, you know. They do make other things.”

Wei Wuxian was summarily introduced to the blacksmiths, a married couple who looked him up and down intently and promptly got into an argument over the saber’s design. When he looked around for Nie Huaisang, the sneaky little spymaster was missing, because of course he was.

Attempts at interrupting failed to distract the couple from their debate over the pattern to be inscribed on the hilt, so Wei Wuxian settled against the wall to wait, and inadvertently took a nap.

He was prodded awake with the end of a (thankfully) unheated poker. “Infuse this with your energy,” The smith holding the poker growled, pointing towards a red-hot block of iron. Wei Wuxian did as requested, feeling only a slight protest from Xue Yang’s — his core.

Then, all he had to do was wait.

During the week it took for his new saber to be prepared, Wei Wuxian was not idle.

If he was going to imitate Xue Yang with no demonic cultivation and an extremely temperamental sword, Wei Wuxian needed tricks. Wen Qing had told him to invent something. But, Wei Wuxian thought, how better to create the illusion of evil tricks than to use something that actually existed.

He had drawn one idea from the stage. Why not the methods for a few more?

Within a day of verbalizing his plan, Wei Wuxian drowned under a sea of texts pulled from the shelves of the Nie library and from the private records of Qinghe’s theater and dance troops. Thanks to Nie Huaisang’s generous patronage, Wei Wuxian had been able to request manuals on the techniques in common between troops, rather than their family secrets. The tricks to raising and lowering a curtain on an improvised stage and to building a smoke bomb in a desired hue for a start.

The combination of practical optical illusions and talismans seemed particularly promising.

The smoke bombs were the easiest, simply a matter of mixing powders together in a casing and setting them on fire. Fun for him, but since he managed to irritate someone no matter where he set them off, Wei Wuxian moved on.

Combining his binding talisman and a sticking talisman, he stuck a disciple to the roof of the library.

(A volunteer, since it wasn’t as though Jiang Cheng was there. Or speaking to him.)

The force holding him in place was a standard talisman, nothing Wei Wuxian had invented, but the disciple struggled against it like he’d never learned how to counter it. Which he probably hadn’t, given how little thought most cultivators gave them beyond wards and the ubiquitous ones for keeping tea warm or sending brief messages.

Which was precisely why Wei Wuxian might just pull this off.

He thought about pulleys and spirit nets, and the next day, he inscribed the talismans within a pressure-triggered array, and sent himself flying upwards. Followed by a plethora of curious volunteers.

What had he expected, though? The Nie were a sect full of adrenaline junkies. Even the first disciple came around for a turn. After that, Wei Wuxian found himself with company and conversation at every meal.

Even so, he never forgot he was wearing a mask. Every night after a long day of study, the mask weighed heavy on his face, leaving him with a headache. He found it easier to ward his door, than keep it on while he slept. Then, and only then, was it safe to be himself.

Many of the most useful tricks required more practice, such as projecting sounds so they seemed to come from a different source. Wei Wuxian practiced each, over and over again, until he felt he had it. And then put on a demonstration.

When he could pull off a trick successfully in front of the little Nie Disciples, he knew he had managed it. If he still couldn’t fool Nie Huaisang, well, Huaisang was Huaisang.

He couldn’t be held to mortal standards.

That left one more problem, perhaps the most challenging.

Along with the skin mask, Xue Yang’s bag had contained: two changes of clothes, a small pouch of silver, a large coil of rope, and several heavy bags full of corpse powder.

Obviously, Wei Wuxian wasn’t actually going to use corpse powder on anyone. That could get messy fast, if anyone else was around, with no guarantee he’d be able to serve the antidote in time. Yet it seemed like corpse powder was a common part of Xue Yang’s modus operandi.

If he didn’t use it, would Jin Guangyao suspect something was off? There was no way of telling.

The problem niggled at the back of his mind all week long, whether he was becoming one with the library or getting caught in his own rope trap. But he got no closer to finding a solution.

Until finally, during breakfast on the day Wei Wuxian was to receive his saber, he sat staring into his congee, stirring it absently.

And had a brilliant idea.

Somehow, having a potential solution took the edge off his nerves, and he was able to hold Yuanzheng for the first time while only making a bit of a fool of himself. To his relief, it didn’t feel like Suibian, though the long, thin saber was also designed for agility rather than power.

Yuanzheng

did feel like a weapon he could use, not the dead, draining weight Suibian had become or the repulsion of Jiangzai. Like it might become an extension of his arm in time, with Suibian and Chenqing out of reach. Wei Wuxian teared up a little, as he went through a series of exercises for the first time in years, and did not pass out.

For the first time, his resurrection really felt like a second chance. The beginning of the long journey he’d named his saber for, with a slim chance that light in the distance was the end of the tunnel. With family and zhiji waiting on the other end.

He had better make it count.

From the privacy of his own room that night, he pulled out his Distance Speaking Stone, and called up Wen Qing. “Hey, disorienting powder can be cleared from the system with congee like corpse powder, right?”

With construction on watchtowers set to begin in several sects, there was little for Jiang Yanli to do on the project but wait. Yet she couldn’t remain idle with only her sect responsibilities and A-Ling to occupy her time. Not if she intended to make herself — or rather, Qin Su — a credible power in her own right, someone who had a chance of being believed when it came time to reveal Jin Guangyao’s crimes.

She needed a new project. Something Jin Guangyao had yet to present a plan for, something Qin Su would get all the credit for.

Word arrived that a Jin disciple had been murdered by Xue Yang, the juniors he had been escorting barely escaping with their lives. The pair of Jin cousins with the rare tea feud (under a temporary ceasefire in favor of vengeance against the Chief Cultivator for the allowance cut, so far consisting of attempts to convince the servants to put laxatives in his tea, which the servants would not do, out of a desire to remain among the living) fainted dead away at the news.

Jiang Yanli, already aware of this through her brother, attempted to look appropriately horrified.

Jin Guangyao paled, and for a moment, lost his composure. Ice in his eyes and steel in the set of his jaw, there and gone again in a blink. Mask back into place but still off balance, he cut off the junior disciples’ explanation of their rescue from corpse powder mid sentence. He immediately sent off three teams of disciples to track down Xue Yang and bring back his body.

“I thought Xiandu always heard all explanations to the end.” A messenger from Fengyang Hua whispered to a group consisting of the wards from Lieshan Du, Zhai Xia, and Mo Xuanyu’s ever-present suitors.

Not always, rumor would now say. Even Xiandu is afraid of something.

Even with fear in the air over the return of Xue Yang — for everyone had a horror story to tell of his time in Koi Tower, mostly to do with dismembered animals in places that were decidedly not the kitchen — Jiang Yanli found she had finally settled into her role.

One day, the paperwork ran out, and Jiang Yanli found herself with an afternoon free. A novel experience, since her return. It was a perfect opportunity to brainstorm her next step.

If only she could dredge up the barest hint of an idea. But her mind felt like a dried-up creek in a drought.

“I was thinking of going to the tailor in the city, Xiao-Heng is growing like a demon and needs more new clothes. Would you like to come with me?”

I bet we’re not thinking of anything because we’re trying too hard. Qin Su said.

As much as Jiang Yanli hated to admit it, she had a point. A-Xian always said that he had his best ideas the moment he stopped trying to force a solution. The difficulty lay in not thinking about it.

I have a solution for that. My beloved nephew is quite the attention hog.

“A-Ling’s robes have been looking rather short.” She said aloud.

Qi Juan beamed, and began tucking her son in his sling. He was soon to outgrow it, and had just reached the troublesome learning to crawl stage.

Kidnapping her son from his lessons was a thrill, though it was the work of a moment. The sour-faced calligraphy instructor dismissed A-Ling with visible relief, and the reminder that A-Ling was still expected to produce ten copies of poems at the next class. Without blotches of ink covering half the page, or brush strokes of uneven width.

A-Ling stuck out his tongue behind the instructor’s back, and ran to grab her hand, already chattering about how he wanted to bring back sticks of tanghulu for the entire class.

“My sweet, grumpy boy,” She ruffled his hair, and he scowled, attempting to push it back into place, but only displacing his top knot further. Just like his jiujiu.

The main streets of Lanling were cleaner than she remembered from six years ago. The shops lining the main street had all recently been given a fresh coat of paint, proprietors and customers alike looking healthier and more prosperous. Jin Guangyao had reformed the city’s taxes, on the basis that letting the common people keep more of their earnings now would bring the sect more profit in the long term. More than one person recognized her as Madam Jin, and called out a respectful greeting with a smile. At least on a surface level, his plan had begun to work.

There were fewer brothels now as well, reduced by half. The madams who had refused to start allowing their workers to pay off their contracts had been driven out of business or died in mysterious fires. (In some cases, but not all, the workers mysteriously escaped unscathed.) As A-Ling towed her along to a hawker with a tower of tanghulu, she passed an empty lot with the blackened foundations still visible. The buildings next to it were under repair, one of which seemed to have sustained considerable damage to the living quarters on the second floor.

As she looked around more closely, she saw an emaciated old man begging from the entrance of an alley, a woman in what had once been a set of fine performance robes soliciting passerby, and scruffy children lurking in dark corners.

Despite Jin Guangyao’s claims of working towards progress, there were still street children in Lanling.

Making a home for the orphans of Lanling had been a project dear to A-Xuan’s heart, in the last months of his life. Impending fatherhood had made him more perceptive in many ways, more so even than the changes he underwent during the Sunshot campaign. But when she was preganant, her husband had taken her by the arms and informed her with great distress that there are children in the streets, Yanli! Children!

Jiang Yanli had thought better late than never and helped him come up with a plan. She had her own reasons to take an interest in the care of orphans and poor children, after all.

Jin Guangshan had probably signed the funding out of the budget on an advisor’s word, not having been informed how his son and daughter-in-law were spending the clan’s funds in the first place.

Jin Guangyao would not have gotten rid of such a program, she thought, as she fished a coin so her son could get as sticky with sugar as his little heart desired.

Qin Su did not quite agree. No, he would have replaced it with something similar, that he could claim the credit for.

True. But he hadn’t — which meant there was room for Jiang Yanli to fill the gap.

After a moment of thought, she purchased a second stick, and handed it to Qi Juan.

“You looked like you could use it.” She told her.

Qi Juan bit down delicately on the candy-coated hawthorn, but couldn’t avoid the satisfying crunch. And laughed, as parts of the coating cracked, and fell from her lips. “All right. I haven’t had something like this since… before the Sunshot Campaign, probably. Certainly not since my family came up in the world and married me off. You look like you could use one too.”

“Do I?” Jiang Yanli had often thought that helping others feel better was its own reward.

It would make me feel better to taste something sweet. Qin Su said in a blatant attempt to get Jiang Yanli to treat herself. Sweet-sweet though, not hawthorn berries.

I think that stall might be selling lotus mooncakes.” Though the mid-autumn festival had already past, there was never a wrong time for a mooncake.

It was a mistake to mention heaven’s favorite root in front of Jin Ling. “Lotus!” He shouted. “Pleasepleaseplease mooncake mooncake!” And would not let up until she bought him one, in addition to three for herself.

“That’s more than enough sugar for one day, young man.” She informed him as she took a bite of her own mooncake, wrapping the others in a cloth for later.

A-Ling grinned toothily up at her, mooncake leaking lotus paste in one hand, half eaten tanghulu in the other, and the glint of sugar all over his cheeks.

Perhaps she should have insisted he wait until after their errand for his treats, but Jiang Yanli did not possess the earned resistance to his adorable whims of a mother who had gotten to see her child grow. Who could blame her, if she spoiled him a little? “Do you think the tailor will still let us in the shop?”

“It’s not so bad,” Qi Juan said, just as A-Ling smushed the rest of the mooncake in his hand, and shoved it in his face. She grimaced. “I’m certain Tailor Ke has seen worse.”

Indeed, Tailor Ke, a woman who knew her way around hanfu, if the way the one she was wearing flattered her extensive curves meant anything, did not blink an eye. “If you could wipe off the young master’s hands, please, Jin-furen?”

Jiang Yanli took the offered wet handkerchief, and wiped the stickiness off of a protesting A-Ling. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to damage any of your lovely merchandise.”

Sadly, the more vibrant fabrics could not be chosen for A-Ling, who would be consigned to golden peacocks and peonies on off-white for as long as he lived. As a married-in spouse, however, Jiang Yanli had more leeway with under robes. The pale pink of Laoling Qin tempered the gold, making it almost palatable.

Qi Juan freely admired a swatch of vivid green fabric, in precisely the right shade for her natal sect. A daring choice, if it was for her son. Perhaps a sign that Qi Juan would be receptive to opposing her husband.

Tailor Ke bustled around, assembling the appropriate silks in Jin colors for Jiang Yanli’s inspection herself.

“Have you been short handed lately?” She asked as ideas for how, exactly, she would go about outdoing Jin Guangyao in reform measures began to coalesce in her mind.

“Have I ever! There’s all this new demand for clothing and not enough suitable apprentices to go around! Everyone’s looking, not just me.” She dropped a stack of fabrics on the table with a grunt. “Jin-gongzi’s order will take priority, of course.”

She shook her head. Naturally an order from the sect leader’s wife would be prioritized, but there was no need. “Please put Bei-gongzi’s order ahead of mine. A-Ling can get a bit more use out of his robes, but Bei-gongzi won’t fit into his if he grows anymore. And only the peony for embroidery. If it’s any more elaborate, A-Ling will inevitably ruin the robes the first time he wears them.”

“Yes, Jin-furen.” Tailor Ke agreed. “It won’t take more than a week, all told. Kid’s clothes work up fast.”

“And wear out faster.” She sighed as A-Ling chose that moment to snag his sleeve on a nail. “What are you looking for, in an apprentice?”

Many craftspeople would have been hesitant to answer, but Tailor Ke was happy to babble on as she began to drape fabrics over A-Ling’s shoulders, critiquing and sorting them to find the least aesthetically terrible combinations. “Oh, someone who’s quick with their hands, with some basic sewing and embroidery skills. I don’t have time to teach basics, but the rest can come along in time. Someone to do the books for me would also be a dream. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, though fortunately I can still stitch a straight seam without looking.”

That seemed like simple enough requirements, easily fulfilled with a little education. Though orphans were pulled of the street from time to time, it was usually for menial positions they would lose the moment something went wrong. Or if they were very lucky, to take care of an old, childless widow. Re-instituting A-Xuan’s program and improving upon it — that could be a very real way to distinguish Qin Su in the eyes of not only the Jin Sect, but the cultivation world.

The children could not only learn skills to help find employment, but be tested for cultivation potential.

The sects were always complaining about how difficult it was to recruit new talent. Executed properly, Jiang Yanli could make Qin Su look not only kind-hearted, but clever, reputable, and forward thinking, with the best interests of the sect she had married into at heart.

Even if the actual Qin Su fantasized about burning down Koi Tower on a regular basis.

Hey.

What? It was true.

Qin Su huffed. A semi-regular basis, maybe. And I would never actually. I wouldn’t actually ruin the whole of Lanling’s economy or put the servants and juniors out of house and home.

My apologies then. She suppressed a laugh.

Would there really be enough apprenticeships to go around, though? Qin Su sent numbers bouncing around her mind as she attempted the mental math, but got lost without paper.

Perhaps not. But larger farms could use workers, manors could use servants, and affordable bookkeepers were always in short supply. It could, at least, give them a better start.

“Shenshen look! I’m all twirly!” A-Ling giggled as he spun, the silk draped over him spinning out and threatening to knock over the tailor’s basket of supplies. Jiang Yanli tried not to smile, knowing she would need to scold him later, and prepared to pay for the entire bolt.

“We should discuss the problem with your sword.” Wen Qing said one night through the softly glowing Distance Speaking Stone. A-Xian had popped in earlier, briefly, but he was busy following the second of the Jin disciples on Xue Yang’s list, learning the habits of the group they were part of before he could lead them into a trap.

Jiang Yanli stared into her evening tea. “Must we?”

“Wei Wuxian isn’t having trouble with his new saber. The problem must be that Chunsheng doesn’t fully recognize you as Qin Su.”

“I can’t just get rid of her sword.” That wasn’t done.

<We are not getting rid of Chunsheng.> Qin Su said from inside her paperman. She’d been bent over a copy of some of A-Xian’s notes, researching something she had yet to explain.

“You’re basically unprotected. What if something —” Wen Qing cut herself off, surprisingly panicked.

Replacing a sword would garner more attention than A-Xian had in refusing to carry Suibian around. Whether they would somehow determine the truth or spread rumors about a disastrous fallout with the Qin clan, everyone would know something was off.

Still, it was sweet of her to worry. “Any sword is more protection than I had in my last life, Wen Qing.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” She sounded so forlorn that Jiang Yanli ached with the desire to fall into her arms and rub circles into her back until she slept, and even after. “But I worry.”

So did she, far too often. There was no end to worrying, it seemed. Not even after death. “Does A-Xian have any ideas about the talisman keeping you trapped?”

Wen Qing hesitated. “I haven’t let him look at it yet.”

“A-Qing!” A slip of the tongue, in her shock.

Wen Qing’s breath caught. “I’m not letting him put my life before his again. When we’re closer —”

“Last time you put his life before yours, he died anyways.” Jiang Yanli snapped. And sighed. “I’m sorry, that was unfair. It’s just — if you’re allowed to worry for me, I get to worry for you.”

“A little longer. Then I’ll speak to him.”

She could tell that was the best she was going to get. “If you don’t, I’ll tell him myself.”

Jiang Yanli was tired of watching the people she cared about tear themselves apart. She wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

Wen Qing let out a shaky, hiccupping laugh. “That seems fair.”

#the untamed #cq #wangxian #yanqing #qin su #the sacrifice summon! JYL fic #where the summoner (qin su) sticks around #this time featuring wwx traumatizing some teenagers #being subject to the whims of nhs #and jyl spending an afternoon with jin ling

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featherfur · 3 years

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Wei Wuxian walking into a Jiang Advisor meeting because he’s supposed to the liaison since someone pushed Lan Zhan in the water last time. And it’s absolute chaos.

There’s three people on tables shouting at four people huddled around a table clearly playing cards, someone’s nabbing ink brushes to throw at the three on the table. There’s food in the corner for snacks but so far it’s only been used for the occasional servant to bring Jiang Cheng a snack.

Wei Wuxian has literally no idea what’s going on because this is wild even for him and how the hell is Jiang Cheng not losing his mind because no one is listening?!?

Then someone shouts “SECT LEADER CALL IT!”

And Jiang Cheng monotonously sighs “Xinyi wins this round, Bolin wins the next” as he flips a paper over and starts writing expense reports again and then they’re all scrambling around the card table to see if their sect leader is right. When he is, all but one cheers and that one is suddenly piled with paperwork.

“You’re a cheat.” The head disciple says from where she’s politely standing beside Jiang Cheng and definitely grabbing from his plate.

Jiang Cheng stares her down but Wei Wuxian can see he’s basically howling with laughter in his eyes. He almost trips in surprise and then Jiang Cheng’s eyes meet his, all of the advisors freeze and turn to Jiang Cheng. Even the Head disciple is watching their leader. Until he puts down his ink brush and glares down at Wei Wuxian.

“Meetings start at seven, if you’re going to show up three hours late you’ll need to deal with the after party. Go on and try to do any business with these idiots, I wish you luck.” It’s almost scathing but the entire room relaxes and laughs at Wei Wuxian who is still trying to figure out what the fuck an after meeting after party is. He decides he doesn’t actually want to know but he’s joining in and Jiang Cheng better have enough chicken for the both of them. He never actually shows up to a meeting on time even after that, he knows that Jiang Cheng and the others are listening to what he’s saying even if they’re being batshit crazy currently and he already has to sit through obnoxious Lan meetings he’s only going to go through Jiang insane meetings

#mdzs #the untamed #wei wuxian #Jiang Cheng #Jiang sect #Jiang Cheng is okay with sharing his food with Wei Wuxian the real question is #can they both convince the head disciple to let him share the food instead of eating it herself #the answer is probably not but they’ll try their damndest!#well Wei Wuxian will #Jiang Cheng still has to live with her and she’ll take a night hunt that takes a month to complete just to make him do extra paperwork #the other Jiang disciples have decided Wei Wuxian is one of them now and he’s not allowed to leave

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i-like-plan-m · 4 years

Text

shades of grey, pt 3

[part 1] [part 2] [Ao3]

Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang crept along the wall in the luminous moonlight, keeping carefully to the shadows. They had yet to see Nie Mingjue, too busy wrestling with whatever the hell they had tucked inside their robes.

Nie Mingjue crossed his arms and wondered what heinous act he’d committed in a past life to deserve this. At his side, Nie Zonghui chuckled as the boys whispered back and forth to each other, Nie Huaisang trotting desperately after Wei Wuxian on his short legs.

“Wait for meee!” Nie Huaisang whined, stumbling over his robes.

“Shh!” Wei Wuxian hissed. He waved Nie Huaisang on, skirting the edges of the training grounds.

“It’s always some scheme or another,” Nie Mingjue said, shaking his head. “If I’d known the havoc Wei Wuxian would bring…”

“You still would have brought him back,” his friend said with amusement and a knowing look. “He has a good heart. His mischief is never cruel or harmful.”

“Except when he flings himself off of things and breaks all his bones.”

“Just the two, so far,” Nie Zonghui said mildly. “Besides, Nie Huaisang enjoys his company.”

Of course he did, Nie Mingjue thought, rolling his eyes. Wei Wuxian enabled all his brother’s half-brained plots to avoid training and paint all day and chase birds all across the mountain. If it sounded like fun and something the adults wouldn’t approve of, Wei Wuxian was bound to be an enthusiastic participant.

But-- he had to admit, Wei Wuxian’s arrival had brought some of the light back into Nie Huaisang’s eyes, light that had faded upon their father’s violent accident and slow, agonizing death. His mother’s death not months later had turned Nie Huaisang into a shell, a feeble little waif who cried constantly and spent entire days curled up in his bed.

Now, Nie Mingjue had to chase them both around at all hours of the day so the little idiots didn’t get themselves killed. But his brother was smiling again, laughing even, so Nie Mingjue could hold no real grudge against either of them.

He watched as the boys darted past a disciple on watch, around the corner, up the stairs- only to skid to a halt, triumphant faces falling at the sight of Nie Mingjue’s unimpressed stare.

“What are you doing?” Nie Mingjue asked suspiciously.

“Nothing, da-ge!” Nie Huaisang chirped, inching sideways like he was planning to make a run for it. Nie Mingjue narrowed his eyes.

“Just playing!” Wei Wuxian agreed. The lump under his robes squirmed, and he clamped his arms over it with an innocent expression that only ever meant trouble.

“Do you want to run laps all night?” Nie Mingjue asked severely.

They wilted. “No,” they chorused.

“Hand it over, then,” Nie Mingjue ordered, holding out a hand. Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian traded looks, hesitant, before Nie Huaisang reluctantly pulled the lump out of his robes and placed it in Nie Mingjue’s palm.

The tiny rabbit blinked up at him. Nie Mingjue blinked back, equally surprised.

The bunny trembled, presumably in shock from being unceremoniously kidnapped and smuggled into the Unclean Realm.

“Not this again,” he sighed. How many times were they going to try this?

“I told you he was still mad about the snake!” Nie Huaisang hissed, elbowing Wei Wuxian. Nie Mingjue took a slow breath, temper rising at the reminder, and felt Nie Zonghui’s shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter beside him, the bastard.

“Give me the rest,” he said once he’d shoved away the memory of walking into his brother’s rooms one night and accidentally picking up a snake that he’d thought was a pile of ribbons thrown haphazardly on the floor. He’d nearly qi deviated on the spot.

“A-all of them?” Nie Huaisang asked, squirming guiltily. Wei Wuxian was looking carefully away from everyone, still clutching his own unknown number of bunnies.

“Yes, all of them, why would I only want-- Wait. Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said with dawning dread. “How many rabbits have you already brought back?”

“Um,” Nie Huaisang hedged. “Maybe… maybe three?”

“Maybe three?”

“Or four!” Nie Huaisang cried. “I don’t know!”

Nie Mingjue closed his eyes and resigned himself to chasing stupid rabbits around for the rest of the night. Heavens only knew the chaos if they were left free to roam and reproduce.

“A hawk ate their mom! We saw!” Wei Wuxian piped up, eyes wide and earnest. “It was so gross! Huaisang cried.”

“So did you!” Nie Huaisang accused. He looked up at Nie Mingjue, lower lip wobbling. “Da-ge, it tried to eat the babies, too.”

“We couldn’t leave the rest, so we brought them here,” Wei Wuxian said. His rabbit was steadily making its way towards his sleeve, seeking escape from the boy’s black robes. He did not appear to notice.

“Do I look like I’m running a menagerie here?” Nie Mingjue demanded, sweeping a hand out at the stark ground of the Unclean Realm. Too late, he realized he’d gestured with the hand holding the baby rabbit, which did not contribute to the severity of his appearance. Nie Zonghui was valiantly choking back laughter.

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang stamped his foot. “We saved them! They were gonna die!”

Nie Huaisang scowled up at him. Nie Mingjue copied it instinctively, though he was quietly relieved to see his brother’s spark return. Even if he was being a brat.

“If you set them loose in the Unclean Realm, the rabbits will outnumber the humans within a month,” Nie Mingjue growled. “Go get the rest.”

He followed them to ensure they obeyed and didn’t try to stuff any stray rabbits somewhere in their rooms, looming over them while they slid open the door to Wei Wuxian’s room and looked around uncertainly.

“Well?” He demanded. Nie Zonghui leaned against the wall and petted the rabbit he’d liberated from Wei Wuxian’s robes, clearly enjoying himself.

Wei Wuxian scratched at his head. “I don’t know where they went, Chifeng-Zun.”

“Uh oh,” Nie Huaisang said before Nie Mingjue could speak. Everyone turned to where Huaisang crouched in the corner of the room. He stuck his little fingers through a hole in the delicate divider between the boys’ rooms and wiggled them. “Da-ge, I think they’re in my room now.”

Nie Zonghui cleared his throat. “Nie Huaisang, did you leave your door open again?”

A beat of silence, and then- “Oops.”

Nie Mingjue briefly fantasized throttling them both. “Tell the servants to look for them. They can hand them off to the kitchen once they’re caught.”

There was an immediate barrage of noise, so loud the bunny in his hand squeaked and cowered behind the cage of his fingers.

“What! Chifeng-Zun, you can’t!”

“But da-ge, we saved them!” Huaisang wailed.

“Huaisang and I will catch them, I promise!” Wei Wuxian said anxiously.

“I can’t believe you,” Huaisang howled, flinging himself bodily into Nie Mingjue’s side.

His family used to be butchers, Nie Mingjue thought despondently, faced with the threat of tears over the fate of a handful of bunnies. They were respected and feared, both then and now. Where did he go wrong?

“Fine, just go catch them!” He snapped, swatting half-heartedly at the hands tugging on his robes. They brightened so fast that he suspected he’d been played, but they were out the door before he could say anything else.

Nie Zonghui continued to stroke his bunny, now tucked in the crook of his arm and dozing peacefully. “So,” he said, positively brimming with laughter.

“Not a word,” Nie Mingjue warned, shoving his own rabbit into his hands and stalking out the door.

Much later that night, closer to dawn than dusk and only two more rabbits captured, Nie Mingjue dropped into his bed with an exhausted sigh.

Seconds later, a soft noise in his room had him jerking up, Baxia rattling in response as he propped himself up on an elbow and squinted warily into the darkness-

And stared in disbelief at the bunny in the center of his room, twitching its nose at him. They watched each other for a long moment, neither moving, and then Nie Mingjue rolled over with a sound of disgust and went to sleep.

#shades of grey #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #nie zonghui #nie brothers #qinghe nie #nie sect #wei ying #fics #ficlets #my fics #ao3 #the untamed #mdzs #nie sect wwx

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mdzsgildedfate · 3 years

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Gilded Fate - Chapter 2

One by one, poppy seeds bloomed across a field of snow. Just a few at first, then a whole field. A field of poppy flowers springing up out of the snow, dotting the pristine blanket red. A hand reached out and plucked one of the flowers, the petals immediately turning to liquid and spilling down the wrist. All at once, the rest of the poppies turned to blood and rushed to snuff out the white snow.

Both hands came into view. Blood spattered both of them. The one on the left was mashed and broken and bruised. The pain screamed and wailed and howled. And then everything went quiet. Black. The pain disappeared. The world fell away. Turning around and round, black in every direction, until finally there stood a figure. Tall and radiant, dressed in white robes, practically blinding against the black background.

Xinyi woke with a start. His eyes flew open and looked around the room wildly, searching for… searching for… he wasn’t sure. His breathing returned to normal and he slumped back against the bed. He glanced over at the clock and let out an annoyed huff seeing that it was minutes before his alarm would go off. Summer had gone by too fast.

Thankfully, Xinyi had been able to get all of his general education credits completed, so this year would be entirely focused on his anthropology classes. The classes his parents were requiring he take just to take over the family collection. He groaned. He couldn’t understand why he had to take college courses for a collection only his family seemed to know anything about. It wasn’t like Professor Lan’s moral philosophy classes were going to teach him how to decipher the cryptic scrolls in the Wang vault.

“One more thing before you guys go-” The Professor’s voice rang out over the sound of students collecting their things to leave. “Don’t forget to put your name on the sign-up sheet for the field trip- remember, this is a very rare opportunity, these priests do not invite outsiders to visit very often, so don’t miss out on your chance by putting it off til the last minute.”

Xinyi was halfway down the stairs of the lecture hall when Chen caught up to him.

“Hey! Xinyi!” Chen threw an arm over the other man, practically toppling them both over. “You’re going, right?”

“What, hiking through the countryside to spend a week in a Taoist temple?” Xinyi asked, laughing. “Hey- you ever think about how two of our anthro teachers are both Professor Lan? Do you think they’re related?”

“Oh come on, it’s a week we don’t have to spend in class.” Chen insisted, already dragging Xinyi over to the clipboard. “And it’s a week of co-ed camping.”

Xinyi rolled his eyes, but signed the paper anyways. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s gonna get so sexy with Professor Lan watching us like a hawk.”

Chen shrugged and dragged him off, talking on as though Xinyi hadn’t just poked a hole in his plans.

~X~

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Sizhui put his hand over Jingyi’s, patting it reassuringly. “We’re almost there.”

“I hate busses. I hate cars. I hate every form of transportation humanity has invented the past two hundred years.” Jingyi moaned, his face squashed against the window.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Sizhui gave Jingyi’s hand a squeeze. “At least we didn’t have to take a plane.”

Jingyi moaned harder, squeezing his eyes shut.

Towards the back of the bus, Xinyi stared out the window, listening to Chen chatter about the area they were in, the history of the rural villages, and so on. If he’d have known both Professor Lans were going on the field trip, he definitely would’ve stayed home. It was bad enough having one breathing down his neck, but the Moral Philosophy Lan always gave him these weird looks, as though he was expecting Xinyi to say something weird.

It was a relief for everyone on board when they finally reached the village at the edge of the mountain. The rest of the journey would be made on foot, beyond where the road ended and into the heart of the forest. Everyone poured out of the bus and the two professors led them into a drab, worn-down inn. Once inside their rooms, the professors dropped the oversized duffel bags they’d been carrying onto the floor in front of the students.

“Four at a time, come up and take out a uniform. We’ll be going down the mountain and staying at the temple in traditional robes.” Sizhui announced as Jingyi unzipped the duffel bags and started piecing the robes together.

Xinyi’s face twisted up. “Seriously? We have to wear this shit while we’re hiking?”

Chen snickered, holding one up to Xinyi. “At least it suits you, with your hair so long. The rest of us are gonna look stupid.”

Xinyi rolled his eyes and shoved the robe away. “Why are they white? We’re gonna look like we’re going to a funeral.”

Getting the robes sorted out to the twenty-odd students under the Lans’ supervision was a chaotic event. While Sizhui had significantly more patience and far better mediation skills, Jingyi was about ready to lose his mind at the utter lack of discipline. Once each of the students had been assigned their new clothes, Sizhui and Jingyi were able to change into their own before leading the convoy out of the inn.

“I can’t believe I’d ever miss Cloud Recesses this much.” Jingyi grumbled, rubbing his temples.

“It’s not all bad. Don’t you remember how excited we were when we first met disciples from other clans and saw how much more freedom they had?” Sizhui asked, stroking the hemwork of his sleeve. “This is what we must have looked like to HanGuang-Jun.”

“Hardly!” Jingyi scoffed. “We were never this bad!”

“Hey, how come you guys are wearing different robes?” One student spoke up suddenly, interrupting Jingyi’s complaints.

“Do we get headbands too?”

Jingyi made eye contact with the student for an uncomfortably long second before looking back down the path. “No.”

Sizhui laughed softly. “Our robes, and headbands included, are specific to the school Professor Lan and I studied at together.”

“Oh.” The student pouted for a moment. “What school?”

Sizhui only smiled back before facing forward again.

“Professor Lan just ignored me…”

The children following along behind Sizhui and Jingyi erupted into laughter and broke off into jokes and commentary about the journey as they began their descent down the mountain. Unlike their guides, looking positively regal and elegant in their robes, the students quickly devolved into a sweaty, trudging herd of zombies. The layers of cotton accumulated heat quickly, and the boys who were unused to wearing ‘skirts’ began the choir of complaints.

“I don’t get why we couldn’t change into these once we get to the temple.” Xinyi mumbled, using his sleeve to fan himself.

“It’s more authentic this way.” Chen responded, sounding completely unbothered.

“If you ever try to convince me to do something ‘fun’ with you ever again, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Come on, look-” Chen grabbed Xinyi’s shoulder and pointed to the peak of the mountains. “See how much taller they look now?”

Xinyi glowered at him.

“And see how the ground is starting to level out?” Chen smacked his back, “We’re almost there, I guarantee it.”

Xinyi rolled his eyes, but did feel a quiet relief at Chen’s observations. And just as he said, no more than thirty or forty minutes passed before the tall, wooden gate of the temple came into view. The students shed their exhaustion at once and broke out into cheers, jumping and rushing about in celebration of not having to walk anymore.

Jingyi brought them to a screeching halt and turned on them, mustering up his best impression of Lan Wangji and glared back at them.

“This is a Taoist temple. You are about to meet esteemed priests. Can you please try to show some reverence?” He said impatiently.

Sizhui gave a small nod. “Everyone. Please keep in mind what we told you in class. Our hosts have lived in seclusion for a very long time, please mind your volume and keep your manners while we’re here.”

The group quieted down to excited whispers as they passed through the gate into the temple court. Waiting inside was a ghostly pale man dressed in black robes, another man in cream coloured robes who looked somehow already annoyed at everyone’s presence, and a college-aged girl wearing matching cream robes. Sizhui and Jingyi stepped forward, bowing with hands out in front of them to the two men.

“Song Lan Daozhang, it’s an honour to meet you again after all these years.” Sizhui said, practically beaming at the older man.

“Yes, thank you so much for allowing us to visit your temple.” Jingyi hummed in agreement.

“Ah, and no greeting for your friend, whom you’ve not seen for nearly a decade?” Jin Ling huffed, tapping his foot impatiently.

Song Lan cracked a small smile, memories of the young squabbling disciples coming back to his mind. He cast his gaze away from the three as they caught up with each other and scanned over the group of students, unable to help but feel a small spark of excitement at the idea of overseeing young disciples for the first time over 8,000 years (even if they weren’t really disciples).

Once Jin Ling’s temperament had been quelled, the four cultivators took up an authoritative position at the bottom of the stares, turning to address the students. Everyone’s attention slowly fell on the men in front of them and quieted down, quicker now under the gaze Song Lan and Jin Ling.

“Welcome to the Leng Shuang WeiFeng temple.” Song Lan opened, holding his hands out and giving a small bow.

Sizhui gestured for the group to bow back and, clumsily, they followed.

“Over the next seven days, myself, your two professors, and our young master Jin will be instructing you in our etiquettes, principles, archery, sword-fighting, and other such relevant cultures.” Song Lan continued, a warm smile on his lips. “While you’re here, please treat our temple with respect, as this building is very old. Furthermore, my fellow Daozhang also resides in the eastern section of the temple. If he’s not participating in our activity, please do not disturb him.”

Sizhui gestured again for them to bow. They complied again, this time looking more uniform. Song Lan chuckled softly to himself, looking at the youthful faces with a nostalgic fondness. He cast his gaze back to Sizhui and Jingyi, giving a small nod of approval, before looking back to the group-

And froze.

Xinyi’s eyes met Song Lan’s and a strange chill ran down in his spine. With the sun beating down on the priest’s face, he looked deathly white, and the look he gave Xinyi… He couldn’t decipher it, but it made him feel a strange mix of contempt and guilt. He looked away a few times, trying to break the eye contact, but every time he looked back, Song Lan was still staring at him.

“Why is that guy staring at me like I owe him money.” Xinyi hissed, elbowing Chen in the ribs.

“Do you owe him money?” Chen asked, leaning over to get a better look at the man.

As soon as Chen had caught his gaze, Song Lan looked away, seeming to shake some thought him from his mind. He turned suddenly, pulling Jingyi and Sizhui up the stares into the outer pavilion. Jingyi waved his sleeve at Jin Ling as they were pulled away, leaving a wild, panicked look in Jin Ling’s eyes. After the disappeared, he looked back to the group of college students, feeling the pressure of their expectant gaze.

“Uh… Free time until your professors get back.” Jin Ling said, shrugging at MingYue. “Don’t set anything on fire.”

Xinyi followed Jin Ling’s eyes and felt his heart drop to his stomach as he finally got a clear look at the other figure in the court.

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Hm? What? What happened?” Chen looked around, trying to see what new ghostly figuring was harassing his friend for money.

“Her.” He pointed one finger out at MingYue.

“Oh yeah, what’s with that red dot on her and that guy’s foreheads?” Chen laughed. “It makes them look like dorks.”

“Not that.” Xinyi growled. “That’s my ex-girlfriend.”

Chen paused, mouth slightly agape. “Ahhh….. Rough luck buddy.”

~X~

Whisking the two younger cultivators into the privacy of the pavilion, Song Lan turned on Sizhui and Jingyi. His gaze has darkened and inky black veins had begun creeping up his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut and took in a deep breath. As it let out slowly, the veins also receded, disappearing back beneath the collar of his robe.

“Young Master Lan. Are you aware of the reincarnated soul in your midst?” Song Lan asked after a painfully long silence.

“Well, yes…” Sizhui said, biting his lower lip. “I’ve found a purpose in seeking them out, providing guidance if they’re on the verge of awakening. I’ve not been able to identify him, but he doesn’t seem in danger of recalling anything so far.”

Song Lan studied his face quietly, considering a number of thoughts before speaking. “Do you remember who else you met in Yi City?”

Sizhui exchanged a worried look with Jingyi.

“You don’t mean…” Jingyi started quietly, his voice trailing off.

“Xinyi is…” Sizhui furrowed his brow, recalling his brief encounter with the man. “Xinyi is Xue Yang?”

Song Lan nodded solemnly. “It would be impossible for me to send you all away, even more so to try to send away just him, but this puts me in an extremely difficult position. For myself, and for Xiao Xingchen.”

The two Lans hung their heads. “We understand. If there’s anything we can do to lessen the burden we’ve imposed on you, please tell us directly.”

Song Lan shook his head. “Don’t feel too responsible. It’s an unfortunate fate that keeps crossing our paths, I assume it has very little to do with either of you. Just try to help me keep him away from Xingchen.”

They nodded in agreement.

“This is a very precarious situation. Not just for you and Xiao Xingchen Daozhang, but for everyone present.” Sizhui spoke carefully. “Souls who recall their past lives too suddenly can become unstable, unhinged. I can only imagine how Xin- Xue Yang… could become dangerous if that were to happen.”

“At least he doesn’t have a sword.” Jingyi said, trying to bring some light to the situation. “That’s five immortal cultivators with swords against one unarmed Xue Yang with no spiritual powers.”

“That’s true. I’d very much like to avoid that outcome, if at all possible.” Song Lan took a couple steps over, peering out at the courtyard. “Keep an eye on him. Let me know if he shows any signs of recollection.”

Sizhui and Jingyi stepped out alongside Song Lan, their eyes falling on Xinyi, finding it hard to believe the bright, cheerful boy they’d spent all last year teaching ethics and culture and history to was the same unhinged murderer they’d met in Yi City. There was no rage behind his eyes or forked tongue behind his teeth. Xinyi had unnerved Sizhui in the past, but never to the point of fear Xue Yang had instilled in him.

Exchanging another worried look, the cultivators came out of their hiding spot and rejoined the rest of the group in the courtyard. Sizhui stepped up beside Jin Ling, leaning over and whispering their revelation into his ear. His eyes grew wide, looking back at Sizhui in disbelief. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

Xinyi glanced over at them and they all averted their eyes, looking anywhere but at him. “What the fuck did Professor Lan just whisper to that guy?”

Chen and the two other students that’d broken off to sit with them both craned their necks to see what Xinyi was talking about.

“You guys saw that right?” Xinyi asked, looking at the three expectantly. “Chen, you saw the way that priest guy was looking at me! The professors just disappeared with him, came back, then Lan Sizhui whispered something into that guy’s ear and he looked at me like…”

“Like what?” QianHua looked back at Jin Ling. “Ooh, he’s looking at you again.”

“See! See what I mean!” Xinyi threw himself back, lying flat on the ground.

“Maybe it’s because you’re the one and only heir to the famous Wang Collection.”

Xinyi frowned and sat up. “Jealous?”

MingYue smiled. “Don’t be so mean, we haven’t seen each other in years. Didn’t you miss me?”

“Who’s fault is that?” Xinyi pulled himself to his feet, straightening up until he was a good six inches taller than the girl. “You’re the one that broke up with me by texting me that you’d already moved to the other side of the country. “

Her eyebrows turned up, pushing the vermillion mark out prominently. “I already told you I couldn’t help that, my parents-”

“You could have told me before you left.” Xinyi crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at her. “Could’ve tried to spend time with me instead of my books.”

She frowned, letting her head hang slightly. “You’re right, of course… I thought I had more time…”

Xinyi shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Just stay away from me while we’re stuck here.”

~X~

The breath hitched in his throat, choking and gurgling through the blood spilling out of his mouth. Whole minutes passed, blinking through the dark, before Xinyi realized he was awake and there was no blood in his mouth. He took a deep breath, gulping in the air his mind had deprived him of with another dream about dying. The breath staggered out slowly as he looked at his hands, counting all ten fingers, clean and free of blood.

Xinyi wiped the sweat from his forehead and stood up, turning his phone flashlight on to lead the way out of the room and down the hall of the temple.

“This place creeps me the fuck out.” He whispered to himself, trying to remember the way out to the courtyard.

Just as he was about ready to turn around, movement caught his eye. He aimed the light down the hall, just in time to catch a flash of white disappear around the corner. The tips of his fingers turned numb instantly. After the momentary shock faded from his limbs, he urged himself forward down the hall.

“Ghosts aren’t real…. Ghosts aren’t real…. I’m a grownass man…. Just trying to get outside to take a piss…. I’m not afraid of the dark….” He muttered to himself under his breath, urging himself to move down the hall faster.

At the turn, he stretched his arm out and shined the light down the hall before peeking around the corner. At the sight of the empty hall, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, see? Nothing there.”

His shoulders relaxed and he continued down the hall, walking with a little more confidence. One more turn and one more hallway and he was finally outside, sucking in the cool night air. He hesitated for only a moment before crossing the courtyard and disappearing into a patch of trees. By the time he finished, he’d almost forgotten about whatever it was he’d seen moving in the hallway before. The dream, too, was fading from his mind as he turned around and started to walk back towards the temple.

The heartbeat in Xinyi’s chest had almost returned to normal when he noticed the figure standing in the doorway. This time, the numbness went all the way up to his knees and elbows, dropping him to the ground with a gasp.

“Do you frighten so easily now?” A soft, quiet voice came from the figure.

Xinyi shook slightly. “I-... wasn’t expecting anyone else to be out here.”

The figure descended slowly down the steps. The moonlight poured over him, revealing breathtaking features. Another soft gasp escaped his lips. The feeling returned to his limbs and he pushed himself back up to his feet. With the gap closing between them, Xinyi could tell that the man was a couple inches taller than him.

“It’s late. Shouldn’t you be in bed?” The man asked, looking him over meticulously.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He replied, awestruck by the man.

“I should have guessed.” The faintest hint of a smile flickered across his lips. “Do you know who I am?”

Xinyi blinked, confused by the question. “Uhm… You’re, uh…. Oh! You’re the other priest. I don’t think we were ever told your name though.”

His smile widened slightly, his face practically glowing in the moonlight. “Tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

Xinyi’s heart skipped and fluttered in his chest. “...Wang Xinyi.”

“Wang...Xin...Yi…” He echoed the characters back slowly, contemplating each one. “How interesting.”

“Interesting?” He asked, unsure of how long he’d been holding his breath.

“Nothing.” He smiled sweetly. “My name is Xiao Xingchen.”

The smile broke out across Xinyi’s face against his will. “Xiao. Xing. Chen.”

Xingchen laughed, the sound of starlight and bells.

“Wang Xinyi. Why are you visiting my temple?”

Xinyi cocked his head slightly. “Class field trip.”

Xingchen took a step closer to him. “No. Why are you, specifically you, here? What desire in your heart urged you to come on this class field trip?”

He swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “I guess… I see temples in my family’s paintings all the time, I wanted to see one in person.”

That soft smile returned to the corners of Xingchen’s lips. “Paintings?”

Xinyi opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by someone calling his name, rather angrily, from the temple door. They both turned around to see Song Lan, looking unreasonably annoyed, standing at the top of the stairs. As the man descended towards them, Xinyi felt a strange urge to rush towards him, meet the approach head-on. But fear of the ghostly man held him in place.

“Wang Xinyi.” Song Lan repeated his name, closing the gap between them. “I believe I told each of you not to disturb my fellow Daozhang outside of group activities. It’s the middle of the night, where are you out here harassing him?”

His brow twitched angrily. “Harassing him? All we were doing was talking, and I-”

“Quiet. Return to your room.” Song Lan grabbed Xingchen’s hand, intertwining their fingers, and led him back inside without another word to Xinyi.

Xinyi scoffed indignantly, lost in disbelief at how flippantly Song Lan had just accused him of harassing Xiao Xingchen. Whatever that man had against him, it wasn’t going to dissipate over the next six days. All he could do tonight was head back to his room and try to go back to sleep, but he’d already decided- if Song Lan Daozhang didn’t want him doing something, he definitely wanted to do it, especially if that something was being around Xiao Xingchen.

#mdzs #mdzs fic #xiao xingchen #xue yang #song lan #xiaoxue #junior disciples #jin ling #lan sizhui #lan jingyi

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