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madness-maybe-managed · 2 years

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Deserted Winter Night:

Summary: When SiZhui falls ill, Lan Wangji tells him the story of Sankt Zichen and Sankt XingChen of the Deserted Winter Night, history and legend’s two most tragic Saints.

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Stories were what cemented SiZhui’s faith in Saints. Tales of the noble Sheng, as they were called in Shu. Stories Lan Wangji told him at night to help him sleep when SiZhui, a young child, was plagued by fevers and the nightmares that accompanied them.

“Sheng Zichen,” Lan Wangji would murmur as the snow fell outside SiZhui’s window. “The silent frost. Sheng XingChen,” he would nod to the moon, allowing its light to spill over his features and onto the bed. “The blind moon.”

“Who were they?” SiZhui whispered, his voice feeble but his mind eager. It didn’t matter that Lan Wangji was a man of a few words to others—for his son, he could tell stories as well as he could play the guqin.

Lan Wangji sighed, looking away from the snow to brush his son’s hair from his forehead and lay a cool cloth to burning skin.

“They are the greatest tragedy of the world.” Lan Wangji answered after a moment. “Sheng Hua Cheng and Sheng Xie Lian, the greatest love story, the Saints of overcoming obstacles and eternity. You remember them?”

SiZhui nodded. Lan Wangji folded his hands. “Sheng Zichen and Sheng XingChen are like them, a pair of Saints, but their story does not have a happy ending. They are the Saints of mourning, of that which is lost to winter. Huāng dōng yè de Zǐchén shèngrén hé XīngChén shèngrén; Sankt Zichen and Sankt XingChen of the Deserted Winter Night.”

“What happened to them?” SiZhui asked, entranced by the name.

“They were once two mighty Etherealki.” Lan Wangji raised his hands, and at his command, snow swept into the room and hovered in a swirl, forming a star before flying back out. “Xiao XingChen was a Tidemaker. Song Zichen was a Squaller.”

“Like you and Grand-Uncle!” SiZhui grinned. “Sheng XingChen was like Uncle Xichen, long ago, right?”

Lan Wangji’s lips turned up slightly, and he fixed the covers. “Right. We looked up to them, your uncle and I. I wanted to be a powerful Etherealnik who could control the snow like Song Zichen. Your uncle admired Xiao XingChen greatly, because he was exactly like the moon. The tides bowed to his will the way subjects bow to a king.”

The word ‘king’ made SiZhui curious. “Which king did they serve?” he asked. “Were they part of the Grisha army?”

Lan Wangji shook his head. “They served no king, fought in no army. They were like the elements the commanded, coming and going to help those in need, who wished to establish a sect based on not blood ties or abilities, but ideals. They were wanderers who did not care about who had power, only who needed theirs. Unfortunately,” he sighed, his light eyes looking regretful, “it would later be what caused their end.”

SiZhui attempted to sit up, eager to listen, but Lan Wangji gently pushed him back down.

“Patience, and I will tell you.”

As SiZhui obediently tucked himself into his covers again, eyes shining with curiosity, Lan Wangji straightened, closing his eyes to think, and then opened them.

“Xiao XingChen was the student of the immortal Baoshan Sanren, and people say he descended from her mountain to travel the world and help those in need. Song Zichen came from a temple, a follower of The Path. Song Zichen and Xiao XingChen travelled together, helping those in need. They asked for no payment and did not walk away from those who were suffering.

“One day, a man came to Xiao XingChen for help. His family had been murdered and he wanted to find the criminal. Xiao XingChen was a kind soul, and eventually he tracked down the killer, an Alkemi named Xue Yang. Xiao XingChen turned him over for trial and execution, but the man suddenly recanted his statement, even though Xiao XingChen had found the culprit. The man refused to explain further, leaving behind Xue Yang and Xiao XingChen. Xue Yang warned Xiao XingChen not to forget him and that they would meet again. Xiao XingChen took no heed of the words and left.”

“So what happened?” SiZhui asked.

Lan Wangji looked back at the window, studying the moonlight as it fell on the snow.

“The temple Song Zichen belonged to was attacked, its inhabitants slaughtered and its floors soaked in blood. Xue Yang had massacred Baixue temple, and within it, he poisoned Song Zichen’s eyes. ‘Tell Xiao XingChen this is a gift from me!’ Xue Yang said to Song Zichen, leaving him for dead. When Xiao XingChen discovered him, Song Zichen was almost gone. Despairing with grief, Song Zichen told Xiao XingChen not to meet with him again.”

“Then?” SiZhui breathed, fascinated.

“Xiao XingChen broke his vow to Immortal Baoshan Sanren, taking Song Zichen to her mountain and begging for him to be healed. Xiao XingChen carved out his own eyes for Song Zichen, then left the mountain. Song Zichen recovered and left as well, but they did not reunite.”

SiZhui frowned, dissatisfied. “Why wouldn’t they reunite? Weren’t they close?”

“They were, but wounds are wounds.” Lan Wangji soaked the cloth again and returned it to SiZhui’s forehead. “Later, Xiao XingChen had been found in a small town called Yi City, living with a young otkazat’sya girl named A-Qing and another young man. Xiao XingChen had been hunting fierce corpses, but what he didn’t know was that the young man whom he had saved from death was really Xue Yang, who kept himself hidden from Xiao XingChen even after he was healed. Xue Yang used corpse powder to poison the villagers and cut out their tongue, tricking Xiao XingChen into killing humans instead of fierce corpses.”

SiZhui’s eyes were wide with shock. “What?” he gaped. “He made him kill people?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“What happened to Song Zichen?” SiZhui asked.

“He wandered the world searching for Xiao XingChen to apologise for their falling out. When he arrived at Yi City, he confronted Xue Yang, who revealed to him Xiao XingChen’s sacrifice. Stunned by this, Song Zichen was caught off-guard, and Xue Yang poisoned him with corpse powder and cut out his tongue. Alerted by the corpse powder, Xiao XingChen unknowingly drove his sword through Song Zichen’s heart. When Song Zichen was stabbed, the winds stopped and the weather became colder, as if the sky had stopped breathing.”

SiZhui’s mouth fell open, his eyes twice their size. This was not a children’s tale anymore, but he needed to know what happened. “And then?” He tugged on Lan Wangji’s sleeve.

“Song Zichen became a fierce corpse. A-Qing, having seen the ordeal, tried to convince Xiao XingChen to leave, but before she succeeded, Xue Yang arrived. Xiao XingChen confronted him, stabbing Xue Yang in the gut, but before he could kill him, Xue Yang revealed that Xiao XingChen had killed the villagers and Song Zichen. Distraught, Xiao XingChen took his own life. People say that at that moment, the seas churned as if in agony, and the moonlight seemed to spill as if weeping, while Yi City was covered in shadows.”

“What happened to Xue Yang?” SiZhui asked.

“He remained in Yi City for several years, until finally, he was killed by Song Zichen, who had managed to break free of the control Xue Yang had put him under, and regained control of his summoning powers. Legends say he became a Shadow Summoner after reawakening. Xiao XingChen’s soul was contained in a pouch, so Song Zichen swore to travel the world and exorcise evil with him, hoping that he would return. And if he did, he would tell Xiao XingChen that he was not at fault.”

Lan Wangji looked out the window at the nighttime scenery.

“Song Zichen, the distant snow and bitter frost, silent grief. Xiao XingChen, the bright moon and gentle breeze, blind justice. Sheng Zichen, patron saint of those seeking a reprieve. Sheng XingChen, patron saint of those who wish to help. Together, saints of mourning. Huāng dōng yè de Zǐchén shèngrén hé XīngChén shèngrén; Sankt Zichen and Sankt XingChen of the Deserted Winter Night.”

SiZhui looked out the window at the night sky, admiring the moonlight coating the fresh snow, the way the frost danced in the breeze.

“When you are wandering, pray to Sankt Zichen and Sankt XingChen,” Lan Wangji said gently. “The moon is blind, so we may find what we seek. The frost is silent, so we may hear what lies around us. For those who wish to help others in this world, A-Yuan, there will always be a reprieve. In the shadows of the winter night, A-Yuan, you will never be alone. Do you understand?”

SiZhui nodded, smiling. “I understand, Father.”

Lan Wangji smiled and smoothed over the covers. “Sleep, now. I will see you in the morning.”

SiZhui’s dreams that night were filled with swirling snow and frost, of bright moonlight and breeze, the way oceans and wind danced together. Shadows covered his mind as two swords flew in sync, perfectly complementing one another.

‘Shuang Hua and Fu Xue uphold righteousness

Stay hidden in a melancholic dream

The knocking of the bamboo sounds like crying, my life is in vain

Leaving behind a lonely city with nowhere to go’

#mo dao su zhi #grishaverse #song lan #song zichen #xiao xingchen #songxiao #yi city arc #xue yang #etherealki #lan wangji #lan sizhui #a yuan #a qing #wen yuan #squaller #tidemaker #shadow summoner

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zhancheng-ao3feed · 2 months

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#zhancheng #fan fic ao3

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 2 years

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The Sculptor

Chapter 7 - Strictly Professional

[Masterpost] [AO3]

-/-

“I want to lick him,” Wei Wuxian whines into the protective shield of his hands cupped over his face. He’s met with shockingly little sympathy from his companions, but then again they’ve had to hear about every passing crush he’s gotten for the last ten plus years so he supposes that’s only fair. They don’t know yet that Lan Wangji is different, they don’t understand that he’s a fucking god!

“A-Ying,” Xiao Xingchen tuts softly, amused at his expense though he’d never say so, and Wei Wuxian parts his fingers enough to glare at the man who’s basically become his Uncle over the years. Everyone in their social circle’s Uncle, really.

“Haven’t you or Uncle Zichen seen him coming into the studio?? You should know what I mean!”

“He’s very handsome, yes,” Xiao Xingchen comforts and pats him on the head. “He is also, as you’ve told us, married and seemingly happy enough about that fact. You’re not a homewrecker, A-Ying.”

“I know,” he wails, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t still want to see what he’s capable of!”

“Hey, you never know - they might be swingers,” Nie Huaisang pipes up from the kitchen where he’s making some sort of alcoholic concoction that’ll probably knock even Wei Wuxian flat on his ass. “Apparently plenty of people are trying it now, not just the usual crew.” The ‘usual crew’ being roughly a quarter of the queer community between their town and the neighboring one, from what Wei Wuxian has heard. He’s never gotten a straight answer on whether or not Nie Huaisang is included in that group, but he certainly knows a lot about them either way.

“I think for swinging to work two sets of partners must be willing to trade for the evening, A-Sang,” Xiao Xingchen reminds him kindly. “And poor A-Ying is all alone-”

“Okay enough, give me a drink,” Wei Wuxian says around an aggrieved laugh, launching himself off the sofa between his ‘uncles’ to join Nie Huaisang in the kitchen and slam back whatever’s in the glass his friend holds out to him. He doesn’t want to think about Lan Wangji swinging, he doesn’t want to think of him being married, he doesn’t want to think about his own tragically small dating pool or trying to fly under the radar in a town that’s still mostly ‘normal’ couples who, for all their claimed open-mindedness, still apparently struggle with having a queer network fucking around somewhat visibly right under their noses.

He’s spent the week watching Lan Wangji gradually become more and more comfortable with getting half-naked for him as he works on a mixture of compositions for the commission and portraits of Lan Wangji in various useful poses when he just can’t bear not to draw him, and it’s been driving him up the wall.

He’s seen plenty of nude models - men, women, it doesn’t matter. It’s always business, it’s always professional. It’s hard to get turned on by a naked body when in a room full of other students all drawing the same figure, or when the model is someone who’s barely dragged themself out of an alcohol- or drug-induced coma to come pose for him for whatever bit of cash he can spare.

But Lan Wangji is different. Wei Wuxian likes him, genuinely, truly, as a person first and a business partner (of sorts) second. It’s charming to watch him face his own deeply-held modesty and reticence and slowly, carefully shed it for Wei Wuxian’s sake. Of course it’s for his own sake as well - he’d said on day one that he needs the money - but if it wasn’t something he wanted to do then Wei Wuxian knows that he’s more than qualified to go into town and find something else to do for some spare cash. Lan Wangji doesn’t have to pose for him, and yet he does. He does, and Wei Wuxian is going to die before the end of this commission.

“Hmm I don’t know about that, love,” Xiao Xingchen hums and Wei Wuxian glances over his shoulder to watch Song Zichen signing to his partner.

“Absolutely not!” Wei Wuxian yelps when he sees the direction this is going. “No way, I’m not inviting him over! He’s a really nice man and all but I don’t know if he’s okay with..”

“Us,” Nie Huaisang mutters in a way that encompasses far more people than just the four of them in Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen’s tiny apartment.

“Yeah. That,” Wei Wuxian sighs, deflating a little.

“Do what you feel is best, A-Ying,” Song Zichen tells him, his expression as grave as it typically is, hands moving steadily - he’s always good like that, calm and matter-of-fact. The perfect balance to Xiao Xingchen’s teasing nature. “I think we’re all curious to meet him and help you figure this out, but keep yourself safe above anything else.”

“Thanks Uncle Zichen,” Wei Ying sighs. They move on to lighter topics then, but Wei Wuxian’s heart isn’t really in it tonight. He’s too distracted with thoughts of his extremely unavailable, completely wonderful Lan Zhan, and he heads home early instead of staying the night like he usually would.

Wei Wuxian isn’t a man of many vices. He likes sweets more than is strictly healthy, and alcohol is always a ‘yes’. He smokes weed with Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen in their side of the studio every so often when he really needs to relax. He likes attractive men and he’s picked up a decent few of them from the gay bar on the edge of town over the years with ah..mixed results.

The next morning, he picks up smoking again - his most accessible vice by far. It’s something he’s done off and on since he was still a young teenager bumming off the Jiangs, though the habits became a much more casual flirtation after his disowning. The casual flirtations when he has the money for it - and annoying withdrawals for a while when the money runs out, though he’s always fine again eventually. He doesn’t really bother worrying about the whys and wherefores of it, most of the time. If he finds his fingers itching for a cigarette and he’s got the cash he’ll buy as many packs as he feels like and work his way through them at whatever pace is comfortable, no emotional reflection necessary.

The point being - something about all this Lan Wangji business makes him want something more to do with his hands than fiddle around in the studio, so he picks up a few packs on Saturday morning and he’s got one of them sticking out of the chest pocket of his overalls when Lan Wangji gets to the studio on Monday morning. Wei Wuxian is half wondering if he’ll say something about it when he spots it, but if he notices he doesn’t say anything at all. Instead he just greets Wei Wuxian the same as ever and, as has now become routine over the past week, starts stripping.

Wei Wuxian can’t help but watch. It’s torture - it’s unprofessional, probably slightly creepy torture - but Lan Wangji practically turns it into a striptease without even seeming to realize it. He follows the same procedure he had that first day: Shoes off. Socks, neatly folded. Belt open. Trousers open. Shirt. Undershirt. Friday had been the first day Lan Wangji had left his trousers open even after hanging everything up, and apparently that’s the next step of this process because he does it again now, the button and the placket for it on the other side hanging open just a bit as Lan Wangji turns back to face him. He doesn’t unzip, but he doesn’t have to. Wei Wuxian is still fantasizing about doing it for him with his teeth.

“Progress,” Wei Wuxian grins when he can say something that isn’t some form of ‘dear god please bite me on the ass’. Lan Wangji seems shyly pleased by that, ducking his head a bit in a nod with his trusty, “Mn.” Wei Wuxian wonders if he’s going to survive the day Lan Wangji works up to getting naked, but that’s a worry for future Wei Wuxian. For now, he has work to do.

He’s settled on a composition over the weekend, finally, and he heads over to sit next to Lan Wangji on the couch to show it to him and explain what he thinks they’ll need for the pose. He’s sketched it out a few times from a couple of different angles with notes scribbled around the margins of the pages, and he can’t help but laugh when Lan Wangji does his best not to frown at it as he attempts to decode it.

“It’s a jumbled disaster, I know,” he soothes. “You don’t have to say it, I can see it on your face. Don’t worry, I’ll help you get into position and I’ll tell you if I need you to do something different. Are your trousers going to have enough give for this?”

“Likely not,” Lan Wangji says with genuine regret in his voice and a definite frown on his face now - frustration at himself? That won’t do.

“Ah that’s fine! We’ll just see how far we can get like this for now. You’ll have to work up to holding this anyway, I don’t expect perfection now. Or ever, really, no one can be perfect.”

“Mn.” Wei Wuxian glances at his friend again to find him looking mollified, and that’s better than nothing. Of course now comes Wei Wuxian’s second major test of self-control of the day - and it’s not even 10am yet, for god’s sake! He stands up off the couch again to return the sketches to the easel. He snags the bucket he’d sat on that first day and turns it over again, the bottom of it a few inches lower than the cushions on the divan, and he sets it down in front of one side of the sofa. A pillow from his stash is tossed on top, and then Wei Wuxian makes a little ‘ta-da’ gesture at it that Lan Wangji looks thoroughly unimpressed by.

“For your shoulders,” Wei Wuxian explains. “Did you think I was going to make you hang your whole torso off the couch and hold yourself up by your abs alone?”

“It crossed my mind,” Lan Wangji says, because Wei Wuxian knows that he doesn’t ever lie. He snorts at that and very pointedly doesn’t think about how nicely that would make Lan Wangji’s already well-defined abs stand out even further.

“Nah, that’s never going to be sustainable, and I’d prefer to do this with as little damage to you as possible. Wen Qing probably won’t thank me if you go home with a sore back every day for the rest of the summer.”

“Mn.” As always, Wei Wuxian can’t get a solid read on Lan Wangji’s thoughts when he mentions his wife, but on the bright side they’ve both mentioned her in passing so much that casual conversation about her doesn’t make him despair for his sanity. Just his heart, which, honestly, has been broken so many times in his life that he hardly feels it anymore no matter how much he whines to his very understanding little found family.

“Mhm. Ready to use a sofa in a way that would give your uncle a heart attack?” Wei Wuxian snickers and pointedly ignores the intensity of Lan Wangji’s glare at the side of his head in favor of crossing behind the sofa to tap the top of with both palms. “Come on, give me your feet. Time to get started!”

Lan Wangji sighs but does as he asks, turning around as primly as he can while bare-chested with his trousers unbuttoned, and then he’s slinging his legs up over the back of the couch into Wei Wuxian’s waiting hands.

It’s the first time he’s touched Lan Wangji directly, he realizes the moment his hands wrap firmly around the knobby bones of his ankles. It almost makes him jump, the warmth of skin on skin and the soft rasp of Lan Wangji’s sparse leg hair against his fingertips, but if Lan Wangji is similarly startled it’s hidden by the way he’s shifting to try to redistribute his weight evenly while unable to fully relax his legs. Wei Wuxian holds him steady and waits for him to find the makeshift prop with his shoulders, and then it’s just waiting through the slow process of him readjusting in small increments until he’s settled.

Wei Wuxian waits again for his hum before he lets go, and then he crosses back around to the front of the sofa to lean down at the waist and tip his head a bit to the side, mischievous smile already pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Comfy?” he teases a semi-upside-down Lan Wangji, who still somehow manages to give him a decent glare with no real heat behind it.

“Not particularly. I will manage.”

“You’ll get there, don’t worry. We’ll work on the legs some other day, but for now can I reposition your arms where I need them?”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian is suddenly distinctly glad that he’d touched Lan Wangji’s ankles first and got that initial shock out of the way, since he’s pretty sure if he’d gotten to touch his hands first he might have actually died. As it is, he settles on his knees behind Lan Wangji’s head - careful not to kneel on his hair - and reaches down the length of him to take his wrists in his hands, coaxing them carefully away from where he’s holding them loosely crossed over his stomach.

“Relax your shoulders,” he encourages, his voice quieter than usual as he gently, reverently manipulates Lan Wangji’s arms where he wants. Lan Wangji takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly, his entire body shifting with it the way he’s spread out like this, stomach and chest rising smoothly and then back down again when he exhales. “Good,” Wei Wuxian praises without thinking, and he feels it under his fingertips on the inside of his wrist when Lan Wangji’s heartbeat skitters, sees his fingers twitch before he relaxes again.

Lan Wangji stays relaxed for him though, and so Wei Wuxian makes relatively short work of getting him where he needs him, his right arm straight up and then bent at the elbow to frame the top of his head, left arm flung out to the side helplessly. By the time he’s finished Lan Wangji looks utterly debauched, his hair splayed out on the floor beneath him and arms akimbo, as if he’d fallen over the sofa and simply stayed where he landed, boneless and exhausted. Wei Wuxian can’t quite resist pressing his palm against Lan Wangji’s stomach when he’s finished, his fingers splayed over the soft give of his diaphragm just beneath his sternum. Lan Wangji doesn’t even twitch.

“How do you feel?”

Lan Wangji is quiet for long enough that Wei Wuxian takes his hand off him and leans back, putting more weight on where he’s sitting on his heels to better meet Lan Wangji’s eyes despite the fact that he’s upside down.

“Lan Zhan?”

“I feel fine,” he says, quite a few beats too late for Wei Wuxian’s peace of mind. “You are correct that I will not be able to hold it for too long, but it is not offensively uncomfortable.”

“That’s alright, just so long as you can hold it for long enough today for me to block out where you are,” Wei Wuxian soothes, and then he forces himself to stand up and take a few steps back to double check his positioning. He walks a slow circle around the set-up to make sure he likes it from every angle (unfortunately it’s much harder to be unbiased when he’s looking at Lan Wangji from every angle, but he perseveres, he’s very brave), and when he’s satisfied he crosses over to his cabinet of supplies to rummage around for a large stick of white chalk.

When he finds it and returns to Lan Wangji it’s to find the man’s eyes shut and his breathing deep as if in meditation, or maybe just sleeping. Wei Wuxian moves carefully around him, quietly tracing out the artificially clumsy fall of his arms and drawing a circle around the rim of the bucket beneath him so he’ll know precisely where to place it again should he need to move it. He carefully gathers up Lan Wangji’s hair in his free hand and holds it up out of the way so he can finish lining his shoulders, and when he glances at his face his eyes are open again, silently watching.

Wei Wuxian blushes a little and goes back to what he’s doing, but now that he knows Lan Wangji is watching, his gaze is like a physical weight on his shoulders, the warm heavy press of hands, thumbs massaging circles into the perpetually-tight muscles at the back of his neck. He wonders if Lan Wangji does that for Wen Qing after hours spent at her desk - she’s a professor too, after all, he has to imagine they both get all knotted up from sitting all day long. He knows he does if he spends too long at the easel, and he’s frequently wished over the years that he had someone around just to rub his shoulders if absolutely nothing else.

Lan Wangji seems like the kind of husband who would do that.

“All done,” Wei Wuxian announces when he’s released Lan Wangji’s hair and finished carefully outlining the knuckles of his outstretched hand, his fingers curled loosely towards his palm. “Do you need to get up and stretch for a moment before I get to work?”

“No, I am fine.”

“Alright. Just speak up the moment you want to take a break, okay?”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian stands and takes a deep breath in. He gives himself one more moment to ‘check’ Lan Wangji’s positioning (read: blatantly ogle) and then he retreats safely behind his easel to get to work.

#the untamed fanfic #wangxian #Lan Wangji #Wei Wuxian #I wanted to pay homage to the original painting as much as Ceru's fanart of it #hence the fic being set in the 70's and now LWJ's pose #(Yes I know the original painting is from 1964 but I do what I want)#but anyway so wangxian together are making the statue from the original and the next major reference is of course #going to be ceru's painting #soon!

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onlyonewoman · 4 years

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Wei Ying: A-Yuan, you look sad? Did something happen at lessons today? Lan Sizhui: Just... Someone was mean to me, mom... Lan Wangji *starting to look for his sword because how dare* Wei Ying: Uhm, how about we let him tell us what happened before you murder someone, Lan Zhan? Lan Wangji *reluctantly calming down, still murderuous* Wei Ying: Just tell mom and dad what happened, hm? Lan Sizhui: They said that uhm... you can’t be my mom since you’re a man. Jiang Cheng, from the other room: They have a point, kid! Wei Ying & Lan Wangji collectively: NO ONE ASKED YOU! Wei Ying, looking at his son again: What did you do when they said such rude things to you, A-Yuan? Lan Sizhui: Uhm, well... *looking rather nervously at dad* Lan Wangji: Sizhui? What did you do? Lan Sizhui: I... I... Please, promise you wont hate me!!! Wei Ying: Silly boy, mom and dad could never hate you. Lan Wangji: Hate is what we preserve for those outside family. Or not so close family... *glaring in Jiang Cheng’s direction* Wei Ying: Lan Zhan, we’re trying to be supportive parents here, please, stop looking for an excuse to kill my brother. You already have plenty of them. Lan Sizhui: Is it true that you aren’t really my mom because you’re a man? Wei Ying: Of course not. We’re cultivators, A-Yuan. You’re trying to say that a man who rose from the dead, forged a magical weapon deadly enough to threaten the very existance of mankind and is still looking this handsome after all that, can’t be a mother just because he has no womb? Lan Wangji *just nodding like this is perfectly reasonable which, of course, it is* Lan Sizhui: But... If you don’t have a womb...? How did you birth me? Wei Ying *rolling his eyes fondly*: Well, I just picked you up, planted you in the soil and then you started to grow. And then, dad picked you up once you were done growing with me. Jiang Cheng, from the other room: It’s still not the same! Wei Ying *nodding at his fuming husband*: I can take it from here, love, you let Bichen loose on my brother and I’ll explain the birds and the bees to our son, okay? Lan Wangji *raises to defend husband’s honor* Jiang Cheng *starting to run* Wei Ying *kissing his son’s cheek*: Now, tell mom what you said. Lan Sizhui *nervously looking at mom while hearing dad running after a yelling Jiang Cheng*: I... I told them to... go fuck themselves... Lan Wangji *still chasing after rude brother-in-law*: Lan Sizhui! Wei Ying: THAT’S my boy! Mom is proud of you, A-Yuan! Jiang Cheng, now running on the roof top: I was wrong, I was wrong! You’re clearly your momma’s boy, Sizhui! Stop chasing me, Wangji, I admit I was wrong! Wei Ying: See? All you need to be a mother, is someone chasing after people who say you aren’t a mother with a sword. Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng collectively: HE’S NOT TAKING A SWORD TO CLASSES! Wei Ying, pleased with himself: And that, my son, is how you make your father and uncle forget about killing each other and remember their sacred bond. Lan Sizhui: You mean the bond of family? Wei Ying: No, no! The sacred bond of being two of the closest living relatives to the world’s most annoying man and still not loosing their minds. Lan Zichen *coming in to look at the disaster*: Wangji, please stop running after your brother in law for whatever your husband and mother of your child did this time. Jiang Cheng: Why are you encouraging this, Zichen?! Lan Sizhui: Because you’re being a stupid, mean... Lan Wangji: Don’t disrespect your uncle! Wei Ying: You’re the one chasing him, stupid! Lan Zichen: Stop being rude to your brother, Wei Ying! Lan Sizhui *having had so enough of this*: Like that’s gonna happen... Jiang Cheng: IS THAT HOW YOU TALK TO YOUR MOTHER, YOUNG MAN?! YOU COME BACK RIGHT NOW AND ASK HER FOR FORGIVENESS! Wei Ying: Uhm, I’m still a man, but thanks... I guess? Lan Sizhui: I’m going to live with Uncle Ning for a few days... At least he’s normal! Jiang Cheng: He’s a walking dead... Wei Ying *honestly confused*: So? Lan Zichen, also confused: That’s... pretty well-known... Lan Wangji *still murderous*: You have a problem with zombie uncles now too? Lan Sizhui *being so fucking DONE*: I DIDN’T ASK TO BE BORN IN THIS FUCKING FAMILY!!! *running off to his room to pack a bag* Wei Ying: Well... Jiang Cheng: I guess we can agree on that, at least. Lan Zichen, ever the one to avoid a conflict if possible: Good! Now that we’re all agreeing, how about we have tea? Jing Cheng: Still no womb... Lan Wangji *muttering while putting his sword away*: That’s it, we’re going off birth control tonight... Jiang Cheng: What? Lan Zichen: What? Wei Ying: What?! Lan Wangji: I have spoken. *dead silence for a whole thirty, awkward seconds* Lan Zichen: Tea? Wei Ying, to Wangji: Not tonight, love, my period just... Jiang Cheng: Someone, please, just fucking stab me...

#wangxian family #incorrect wangxian #mother wei ying #father lan zhan #uncle cheng #uncle zichen #a-yuan #lan sizhui #crack #but this conversation absolutely took place #the untamed #incorrect untamed quotes #jiang cheng

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silenteyes · 3 years

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If Wei Wuxian Grew Up In Different Sects (or with our lovely Rogue Cultivators)

ft. fanfictions I’ve read for each of them - excluding Yunmeng Jiang Sect

Warnings: Spoilers for MDZS, Canon-typical Yu Ziyuan and her treatment to WWX, a few uncensored cursing

Yunmeng Jiang Sect

Clearly, we know that he and the Jiangs have a- complicated relationship. With Jiang FengMian it’s on a thin line, and though it’s clear he cares for WWX - JFM still sees WWX as just a disciple, not a son because the last words he says to WWX are “A-Ying, A-Cheng... you must look after him.”

With Madam Yu it’s clear that their relationship is unhealthy, she basically abuses him. With Jiang Cheng it’s also unhealthy - as much as I loathe to say it, they will NEVER get the reconciliation we want because WWX has done too much for JC to forgive and JC and his anger issues are not safe for WWX. The only ACTUAL healthy relationship he’s got in the Jiang Sect is with Jiang Yanli. She forgives a lot and it’s clear she loves WWX.

Gusu Lan Sect

Ah - yes, this one. In all honesty, if he WERE to be found by the Lans he would’ve probably be well-behaved since he was just a child and easy to, how do I say it - teach.

He might still have his playfulness but it would be toned down quite a lot. I also like to think that he would get along with Madam Lan and most probably prevent her death. This may be an unpopular opinion, but he and Lan Xichen would get along well, and LXC would be the one to make him comfortable first. WWX would still grow close with Lan Wangji of course, but if anything happens he would not go to LWJ first.

If they grew up together, I’m sorry - but I can’t imagine that he would date LWJ then. But, you can think the other way around! I don’t boss you and tell you who to ship and who not to ship!

Fanfiction: ‘Some call it kidnapping. The Lan Clan call it adoption.’ by IceBreeze

Summary: “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, look!” Wei Ying did a twirl. “I’m the same as you now! Am I pretty? Say Lan Zhan, am I pretty?”

Huan muffled a laugh behind his sleeve as A-Zhan said “Mn,” eyes never once leaving Wei Ying. There was something a little like awe in his stare, like Wei Ying was the only one in the world to him at that moment, and if Huan hadn’t already known that his little brother cared deeply for Wei Ying then that look would have been all the confirmation he needed.

(If A-Zhan knew what marriage and romance was beyond the vague explanations he’d heard then he’d probably already be courting Wei Ying, with all the dogged determination he shows everything he puts his mind to. It’s adorable, and Huan supports it wholeheartedly, no matter what direction it heads in the end).

Or: an AU Wei Wuxian is taken in by the Lan clan instead of the Jiangs.

Qishan Wen Sect

Hm, this one is quite complicated. To be honest, WWX would probably fit in well in the sect, and Wen Ruohan most possibly cares about power, and WWX is powerful so he’d care for him AND Wen Xu. Wen Chao is just there in the background being bullied, I like to think.

WWX would make Wen Qing their head doctor and give her more power, while he would also help Wen Ning with archery. All and all he would be alright in the Wen Sect, but there would still be a couple casualties here and there, because of Wen Chao’s jealousy.

Fanfiction: ‘ He was brighter than the Sun’ by AncientOceanmelody

Summary: Wei Wuxian was the head disciple of Yunmengjiang Sect, he was the pride of Yunmeng. Jiang Fengmian see him like a son, everyone (except Madam Yu) love him.

He would do everything for those who were dear to him.

So why do is feel horrible when Uncle Jiang didn't hesitate when he offer himself to the Wens instead of Jiang Cheng?

Why is he crying?

After all, he was just the son of a friend, the son of a servant, is was obvious his Uncle would prefer his Sect over him.

Qinghe Nie Sect

Again, I’m gonna be honest, but this sect would be the BEST one for WWX to grow up in. Nie Mingjue would get along great with WWX (we’re ignoring canon GROWN WWX) and Nie Huaisang has another brother :D

NHS and WWX would use their time to cause mischief and plot stuff while NMJ is like “These are my brothers. They’re annoying. Don’t you fucking dare lay a finger on them.”

Just - THEY WOULD BE THE HEALTHIEST RELATIONSHIP EVER IN ALL THE SECTS! NMJ taking care of WWX and NHS, NHS constantly worrying over WWX and NMJ because they fight (you know- war I mean) and WWX just being the self-sacrificing moron he is and protecting NMJ and NHS

Fanfiction: ‘shades of grey’ by cl410

Summary: This was why he didn’t like to leave the Unclean Realm, Nie Mingjue thought with dismay. Guileless dark eyes blinked up at him, tiny hands clutching at his robes.

Or: Nie Mingjue comes across Wei Wuxian before Jiang Fengmian, and decides Nie Huaisang could use a friend.

Lanling Jin Sect

OH BOY! I just love Jin Zixuan getting along with WWX and being an older brother to him. I would think that if JZX (Not Zixun, I despise him) grew up with WWX they would definitely get along and have a healthier relationship than the Yunmeng Bros. Jin Guangshan would definitely not see the point in having WWX in there, and Madam Jin is much more empathetic and she would be the on to take care of WWX.

You may be wondering - Jin Zixuan is Jin Zixuan. Wouldn’t his pride get in the way of things? He’s not called a peacock for no reason, and yes! I can see why you think that! But look at MianMian! She’s JZX best friend BECAUSE she probably grew up with him, and it’s clear in terms of temperament she’s better than JZX and she might even rival him in swordsmanship. If given the choice to grow up with him, WWX would have an amazing brotherly relationship with JZX, and would most likely accept the fact that WWX is amazing and would be PROUD of him.

Also JZX’s relationship with Jiang Yanli may improve JUST BECAUSE WWX is there

(I might just be biased, idk)

Fanfiction: ‘Twin Treasures’ by crossdressingdeath

Summary: When Madame Jin happens to come across Cangse Sanren's orphaned son on a trip to Yiling, she can't bring herself to leave him there. Wei Wuxian finds a somewhat different family. Jin Zixuan finds a little brother. The course of history changes accordingly.

(Some things are written in fate, but even fate itself changes.)

Rogue Cultivators - Song Zichen and Xiao Xingchen

Let me point out first that Xingchen is ETHEREAL! HE’S THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PERSON ON THE PLANET! (Song Jiyang is amazing istg I’ve never watched The Untamed but I’ve SEEN clips of them like 哥你怎样那么美).

ANYWAYS, BACK TO THE POINT! Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen would be amazing parents, don’t deny it. SZC would be rocky at taking care of WWX at first but he would get the hang of it and be the most over-protective person on the planet and would KILL ANYONE who hurts his family. Xiao Xingchen on the other hand would be the doting and loving parent. He spoils WWX but not as much as SZC (though he would never admit it). SZC and XXC would be the best if you want WWX to have parental figures.

Fanfiction: ‘Frost moon's sun’ by RenaFair

Summary: Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan had dreamed of founding a sect together, that is until Xingchen heard what happened to his shijie. The two then decides to put their little dream on hold as they care for a pair of tiny hands between them, protecting the little boy with a sunshine smile as best as they can.

Alternately; Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan adopted Wei Ying after his parents' death.

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goldencorecrunches · 3 years

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LanLan Rural Vet/Animal Sanctuary AU ~ from the LanLan discord --

It was the rain that made Lan Xichen start laughing. "Oh, I'm sorry. Oh dear," he said, one hand pressed to his chest in the passenger seat, the corners of his mouth helplessly turned upward. Thunder boomed, heaven's drums arguing from far away: Lan Xichen bent forward and laughed harder, cupping the back of his head. Song Lan didn't feel the urge to laugh himself, but he could appreciate the sheer ridiculousness of the bad luck that kept finding them today. First Wen Qing, his tech, had come in sneezing like an elephant with a head cold and so he'd sent her home with stern instructions not to return until she was better. Then he'd gotten a call from the farmer who'd dug the ancestral plow farthest up the farthest mountain to come quick because his best cow was in labor, and having trouble with it-- the cow Song Lan had not been told was pregnant.

Then his car had refused to start, and he'd had to bargain with the grumpy auntie who delivered the post for the use of her shuddering pickup truck, a behemoth half rusted through that definitely hadn't seen the wet side of a sponge for many a long-toothed year. Then Lan Xichen, the director of the backcountry vet-and-sanctuary, had come rushing out as he'd pulled onto the gravel road, begging to come with so he could escape for a few hours his visiting uncle. (That part hadn't been so bad-- driving with Lan Xichen up the winding country road, the valley unfolding out beneath them, summer trees vibrant and lush on either side. Auntie's truck had no air conditioning, of course, so they'd rolled down the windows with the grating hand cranks and the short pieces of hair that had come loose from Lan Xichen's ponytail had blown around his face, his smiling eyes.)

(When Song Lan had taken this job, a year ago come June, he had not expected the pre-existing half of the administration to be the most beautiful man he had ever seen. "Zichen," Xingchen had said to him over video call that night, teasing, "you're such a hopeless romantic. Talk to him! Get to know each other! What could go so terribly wrong?" "He could drag me halfway across the world with only a backpack and a single change of clothes," Song Lan had signed back, biting the mirth into the side of his cheek, and Xingchen had blushed, pretty pink up to their hairline. Song Lan missed them. Of course. They were coming in fall, a hard-wrestled break in their schedule that they guarded against teenage fervency and staid official alike, and Song Lan couldn't tally the days until then without breaking his own heart.)

Up the mountain, the cow had not been giving birth to anything but her own insides. The farmer was not pleased when Song Lan through Lan Xichen told him this, elbow-deep, as if Song Lan had come all the way out there from some cattle-themed plot of revenge. He likely wouldn't call Song Lan again even if the situation was dire, which meant his animals would go untreated; the knowledge of it itched under Song Lan's skin, making him have to grimace apologetically at Lan Xichen when on the drive back he realized his own company was less than engaging. And then Auntie's truck had made a noise like a steel chain through a meat grinder and stopped in the middle of the road. And then it had started raining. Lan Xichen's laughter was running up the wrong side of hysteria. Seeing the rain start to darken the shirt over his shoulder, feeling the damp on his own, Song Lan reached around Lan Xichen's back and dragged at the handle until the window began to close. One perk of old trucks-- when they broke down on you, you could still work the windows. He repeated the process on his own side, focusing furiously on not being weird about the heat of Lan Xichen's body he'd felt press against his own arm and chest leaning over. The air inside the cab immediately became sticky and stale. "It's just-- I was supposed to take my uncle out for dinner tonight-- he's going to be so annoyed--" Gently, feeling a nervous spark in his belly at the presumption, Song Lan laid a hand on the sleeve of Lan Xichen's collared shirt. To his great relief Lan Xichen leaned into the pressure. It seemed to give him the wherewithal to swallow his frantic giggling, his shoulders shaking as he hiccuped; Song Lan tapped his thumb in the crook of Lan Xichen's elbow in a manner he hoped was comforting. (People were always surprised, either when they found out he was a veterinarian, or when they found out he was, as one receptionist had put it, a "clean freak;" they didn't go together in public consciousness. Usually Song Lan lacked the energy to explain that it was about where dirtiness belonged. An exam table should be sterile. The animal upon it should not be: if it was, it would be dead. Humans were the difficult ones, because they ought to wash their hands more than they usually did.) (Besides, it wasn't like he didn't wear gloves.) Finally taking a deep, shaky breath, Lan Xichen sat upright and let his hands fall into his lap. He peeked at Song Lan from the corner of his eye. "I'm...well. In control again, I suppose. Oh, that was embarrassing." His arm jumped under Song Lan's palm, but he did not pull away.

"This is certainly...an adventure," Song Lan signed with his free hand. Lan Xichen's smile went wide for a moment, lopsided, and Song Lan felt the victory like a hot drink on a cold day. "It has been," Lan Xichen agreed. He fidgeted with the denim over his knees. Well: tried to. It was tight denim. There wasn't a lot to fidget with. "I should call the clinic and tell them we're stranded. If we'll get any reception up here, and with the rain." He sounded reluctant. Song Lan, personally, wanted to get back to his own house and get under Xingchen's knitted blanket and tell the world to go fuck itself dry, but he didn't have an...uncle, waiting for him. Creeping over him was the unshakeable sense that he had been gifted something precious, in Lan Xichen's vulnerability. Despite his easy manner and his compassion, Lan Xichen was, Song Lan had decided during several months of study, terribly lonely, and unsure how to stop. He held himself apart without seeming to, diverting questions back to shared interests, breezily finding an excuse every time their little mob of vet-techs and animal-enthusiasts invited him to join them after hours; and it did not help that to an individual they all viewed him with something of awe. When you were that good-looking, and that kind, it came with the territory. So Song Lan pushed down the irritation at being stuck in the oxidizing shell of what had once been a functional vehicle and unbuckled his seatbelt. Struggling a little in the confined space, he shucked his sturdy flannel and held it out. Lan Xichen stared at him, mouth open ever so slightly. His eyes were shining; Song Lan could feel the back of his neck heat up. "You take a nap under this," he signed, awkward. "Let me call. My phone's got better range anyway." "Because it's not a fancy bit of overpriced nonsense?" Despite himself Song Lan snorted; he and Lan Xichen had antagonistic views towards personal technology. "Exactly." "It's soft," Lan Xichen murmured, as his fingers closed over the dark green plaid. Song Lan tried to pretend he wasn't flushing thoroughly. (When they were rescued, three hours later, by Wen Qing's younger brother in his mountain-tire-fitted jeep, Song Lan had to touch Lan Xichen's shoulder to shake him awake. In the grey light from the overcast sky he seemed to blur, at the edges, soft and precious as a rabbit's underbelly. Song Lan swallowed thickly and looked away. "Keep it," he signed, when Lan Xichen tried to hand back the flannel. It was chilly in just his t-shirt, but that was all right. He'd survive. "It suits you better than it does me." "I don't think I agree with that," Lan Xichen said, and by the time Song Lan had recovered from his subsequent heart attack Lan Xichen was meters away, climbing up his own porch with Song Lan's shirt wrapped around him, pulled tight against the cool post-storm crispness.)

#mdzs #cql #the untamed #song lan #lan xichen #lanlan #they get trapped in a truck in the rain on a mountain together and song lan has Feelings #my fics #oh i didnt specify but xingchen is an international environmental activist and worker #lanlan rural vet au #fic: lanlan rural vet au

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redafar · 2 years

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Character name reference for if you’re just starting to watch The Untamed

So many characters with so many names to keep track of—courtesy names, given names, titles, familial/r terms. This might help if you're starting out and need a reference point.

Jiang Clan of Yunmeng (purple and deep blue.) Manor: Lotus Pier

Our protagonist: courtesy name Wei Wuxian, birth name Wei Ying. Later given the title of the Yiling Patriarch. In the present timeline, he’s been summoned to take the place of Mo Xuanyu.

The (martial) brother: Jiang Cheng, courtesy name Jiang Wanyin.

The (martial) sister: Jiang Yanli. Wei Wuxian calls her "Shijie," Martial Elder Sister.

Adoptive Dad, the adult clan leader: Jiang Fengmian.

Adoptive Mom, the Madam of the Jiang Clan: Yu Ziyuan.

Lan Clan of Gusu (white and light blue, headbands.) Manor: Cloud Recesses

Our love interest: courtesy name Lan Wangji, birth name Lan Zhan, title Hanguang-jun, often referred to as Second Young Master Lan.

His older brother in the fancy drapes, de jure Clan Leader: courtesy name Lan Xichen, title Zewu-jun, referred to as Second Brother in the sworn brotherhood.

The disciplinarian uncle who’s de facto Clan Leader: Lan Qiren, usually referred to as Grand Master Lan.

The only woman Lan Clan Leader in history: Lan Yi.

The outer disciple who comes hunting with them on the boat: Su She.

Wen Clan of Qishan (red and black.) Manor: Nevernight

The mysterious lady doctor: Wen Qing.

The mysterious doctor’s anxious little brother: Wen Ning, courtesy name Wen Qionglin.

The dickhead prince: Wen Chao. Also Second Young Master Wen.

The dickhead prince’s mistress: Wang Lingjiao. Affectionately, Jiao-Jiao.

The dickhead prince’s bodyguard: Wen Zhuliu. Also known as Core-Melting Hand.

The adult clan leader, and Chief Cultivator: Wen Ruohan, or His Excellency.

The eldest prince: Wen Xu.

Jin Clan of Lanling (light gold, cream, and orange. vermillion bindi for boys and men.) Manor: Golden Carp Tower

The little rich boy heir to the throne: Jin Zixuan.

His older cousin with no redeeming qualities: Jin Zixun. Their names look and sound extremely similar. The heir is Jin Zixuan.

The cool girl attendant to the heir: Mianmian.

The anxious guy with the hat: Jin Guangyao, title Lianfang-zun, referred to as Third Brother or Youngest Brother in the sworn brotherhood.

The adult clan leader: Jin Guangshan.

Nie Clan of Qinghe (silver and grey, braids.) Manor: The Unclean Realm

The hapless boy who brought a bird to class: Nie Huaisang.

His older moustachioed brother who’s a young clan leader: Nie Mingjue, title Chifeng-zun, referred to as Eldest Brother in the sworn brotherhood.

The nervous advisor with the lowly family background: Meng Yao.

Others

The other smirking, very queer-coded guy in black: Xue Yang.

The pair of world-renowned Daoist cultivators: Song Lan (in black), courtesy name Song Zichen; and Xiao Xingchen (in white.)

The mysterious cultivator in seclusion who’s technically our protagonist’s Master: Baoshan-sanren.

Our protagonist’s dead birth parents: Cangse-sanren and Wei Changze.

A mustached, gossip-mongering minor clan leader: Yao Clan Leader.

Another mustached, gossip-mongering minor clan leader, but older and thinner: Ouyang Clan Leader.

The person who sacrificed his life to resurrect Wei Wuxian after the timeskip: Mo Xuanyu.

The very polite teenage cultivator from after the timeskip: Lan Sizhui.

The very sassy teenage cultivator from after the timeskip: Lan Jingyi.

The bratty, rich, and parentless teenager from after the timeskip: Jin Ling, courtesy name Rulan.

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disastermages · 4 years

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y’all asked for part two of the au where xiao xingchen raises wei wuxian

“Take it easy, A-Ying, Shuanghua won’t let you fall off.” Xiao Xingchen says, even as he keeps both of his hands on his nephew. “Just focus on going in circles.” The sword only hangs a few feet off the ground to begin with, just low enough to nix any possible injury as Xiao Xingchen starts moving the three of them slowly.

Shuanghua hums in the back of his head in answer, working to steady the wobblings of Wei Ying’s feet, refusing to even dip underneath his weight. “One must trust their sword before they can begin to fly.” Xiao Xingchen says, navigating a turn as they circle back around to their tent. Wei Ying already understood the basics of talismans and temperature regulation, sword riding had to be next, right?

He’d learned on Cangse’s sword, and if it hadn’t matched his sister’s energy, Xiao Xingchen wasn’t sure what would have, he’d fallen off of it more times than he cared to remember only to be put right back on it. At the time she’d told him she was making sure he could hold on through anything.

They make a few more passes around their little camp before Xiao Xingchen brings them to a stop again. “I’m going to let go now,” Wei Ying looks up at him now, his eyes big in the face of Xiao Xingchen’s smile, “Shuanghua is going to take you around a few more times, let him lead and concentrate on keeping your balance.”

“Uncle Xiao,” Wei Ying starts, but Xiao Xingchen only puts his hand on top of Wei Ying’s head.

“Shuanghua hasn’t ever let me fall off, A-Ying, it won’t let you fall either.” Wei Ying looks scolded for a moment, and Xiao Xingchen still doesn’t take away his hands. If Wei Ying really didn’t want to, he wouldn’t force him, but he hadn’t made any moves to get off either.

“Okay.” Wei Ying says finally, his eyes focused on Shuanghua’s blade while he readjusts the position of his feet, one right behind the other, just like Xiao Xingchen had taught him.

“Okay.” Xiao Xingchen says, taking both of his hands away completely, and stepping back before he directs a jolt of spiritual energy into Shuanghua’s pommel.

He doesn’t need words to tell Shuanghua to take Wei Ying to the treeline, but no further before circling back around, though he still watches them until they disappear around an evergreen only to reemerge from behind a different one a few moments later. There’s an even bigger smile on his face as he turns to start packing up their things, Shuanghua was having fun, and after the first few passes, so was Wei Ying.

His own sword had surprised him. It wasn’t that Shuanghua disliked children, it just simply hadn’t vibrated with interest at the suggestion of playing with them the way Cangse’s had, but it already taken to Wei Ying without a second thought. Xiao Xingchen was grateful for it.

Wei Ying and Shuanghua are already on their way back to the treeline when Xiao Xingchen calls his sword back, beckoning it with his hand and chuckling to himself when he hears Wei Ying’s delighted surprise when the sword begins moving backwards.

“Did you have fun?” Xiao Xingchen asks as he lifts Wei Ying off the sword and holds him up to eye level for a moment. He was heavier than he’d been six months ago, his eyes were brighter, and he was somehow even more energetic than he’d been that night. Good, that was a good thing, even if Xiao Xingchen was exhausted by the end of most days now.

“I didn’t fall off!” Wei Ying says, grinning and watching with rapt attention as Shuanghua sheathes itself across Xiao Xingchen’s back, the humming in his mind fading back into peacefulness. Shuanghua would be a good sword for Wei Ying to learn with, it was steady and firm in it’s position, even when it wasn’t in his hand, but Wei Ying would have to build that kind of relationship with his own sword one day.

This won’t be the first or last time Xiao Xingchen wished he knew what had happened to his sister and brother in law’s bodies and their swords, maybe Wei Ying could have carried one of them, maybe even Cangse’s if Xiao Xingchen commissioned a new grip for it, one that would fit Wei Ying’s hand when he was old enough.

Those thoughts wouldn’t reveal the locations of neither the bodies nor the swords, and Xiao Xingchen knows that. It could even be better that way, he thinks, for Wei Ying to have his own sword to name and bond with, rather than chasing after the bond the sword had had with the parent it belonged to.

Suddenly there are hands on his face and Xiao Xingchen is pulled out of his head. “Uncle Xiao looks sad.” Wei Ying’s eyebrows are knit together when he speaks and Xiao Xingchen shifts him onto one hip to run his thumb between them and smooth out the crease.

“Uncle Xiao isn’t sad, A-Ying,” Xiao Xingchen says, pinching Wei Ying’s cheek just a little, “I’m only thinking about how you won’t want to ride on Shuanghua anymore when you have your own sword in a few years.” It was true enough, there had been a few times where Xiao Xingchen had felt selfish enough to want his nephew to stay as small and sweet as he was now.

Wei Ying was only going to get bigger and older, soon enough Xiao Xingchen wouldn’t even be able to carry him like this anymore. Would he let him call him A-Ying still? Or would he want Xiao Xingchen to call him by his courtesy name?

Before those thoughts can truly take root, Wei Ying speaks again, squirming in Xiao Xingchen’s arms to try and get him to look at him again. “My sword will be friends with Shuanghua!” Wei Ying declares, holding onto the lapel of his uncle’s robes now, tugging just a little bit.

A flood of relief hits Xiao Xingchen then. Of course it would be that easy, Wei Ying made friends everywhere they went, his sword, though currently nonexistent, should be the same, shouldn’t it? “My nephew is smarter than his uncle sometimes.” Xiao Xingchen says, pressing his forehead against Wei Ying’s as he starts walking back towards their tent.

“Can my very wise nephew help me finish packing so we can make it to the next town before sunset?” Xiao Xingchen asks, setting Wei Ying down on the ground and kneeling before him, smiling when Wei Ying nods his head and sets about packing what he can manage. They should have left an hour ago, but he’d needed to teach Wei Ying what he could during their down time.

And perhaps, Xiao Xingchen thinks, it had only been a little selfish of him to let the ride go on longer than truly necessary.

They meet Song Zichen when Wei Ying is six and Xiao Xingchen has been asked to assist on a nighthunt under Baixue Temple’s jurisdiction.

“You don’t leave your nephew somewhere safe while you’re nighthunting?” Song Zichen asks, eyes cast down to the boy walking between the two of them. His temple had offered to watch the child, but Xiao Xingchen had refused and taken Wei Ying’s hand in his.

“The safest place for Wei Ying is with me.” Xiao Xingchen says, squeezing Wei Ying’s hand in his and glancing down at him. Back when Xiao Xingchen had first taken him, he’d tried leaving Wei Ying behind under the care of innkeepers and village aunties, but it never went over well. Either Wei Ying would wait by the door the whole night for his uncle to come back, or he would have nightmares that the same monsters that had taken his parents had come back for Xiao Xingchen too.

Xiao Xingchen couldn’t and wouldn’t fault his nephew for his fears, even if he did promise that he would come back each and every time he’d left him before.

“I hide behind rocks and in caves when the monsters come out.” Wei Ying says, sounding just the smallest bit insulted that it was implied he shouldn’t be here. “I can climb trees too.”

“And then Uncle Xiao has to come get you down when you climb too high.” Xiao Xingchen says fondly, looking over when he hears Song Zichen snort, his own hand covering the smile on his face.

“He’s laughing at me!” Wei Ying says, tugging on his uncle’s hand, though he doesn’t look the slightest bit mad, especially since he’d been trying to get a reaction out of the man since they’d met him. “Song-gege is laughing!”

And what a wonderful laugh it is, Xiao Xingchen finds himself thinking. He should probably scold Wei Ying for the over familiarity, but before the words can even come out, Song Zichen is already turning his attention back to Wei Ying, the smile still on his face.

“Apologies, I was only thinking about the sight of your uncle climbing after you in his nice white robes.” Even in the barely there moonlight, Xiao Xingchen can see Song Zichen’s shoulders shutter just a little and he hopes the color on his face isn’t as obvious as the heat spreading across his cheeks.

“Perhaps Song Zichen will get to see it for himself tonight.” Xiao Xingchen says, though something else entirely burns in his throat as he walks ahead and pulls Wei Ying along with him, only managing to look back once to see if Song Zichen was still following them.

His nephew truly could make friends anywhere they went.

“I didn’t figure you to be the fatherly type, A-Chen.” His grandmaster’s voice says from behind him, and he freezes before he turns slowly towards her. He’d noticed her, of course he’d noticed her, but he’d been ordered not to speak to her if he did when he’d left the mountain.

Baoshan Sanren stands with her arms behind her back, her face strict, but softening when her eyes take in Wei Ying’s face the same way it did when she looked upon her youngest disciples.

“Grandmaster.” Xiao Xingchen greets, bowing at the waist and peeking over to see Wei Ying do the same. Baoshan Sanren inclines her head before she comes closer, her eyes looking between Wei Ying and himself as though she were trying to solve a puzzle. “Wei Ying is Shijie’s son.” Xiao Xingchen explains, resting his hand on the back of Wei Ying’s head.

“Cangse? She’s here as well?” Slowly, Xiao Xingchen shakes his head, hoping that his grandmaster will understand without him having to say it.

There’s a split second where Baoshan Sanren’s eyes widen with understanding and her shoulders fall, but it’s gone as fast as it had come, her gaze entirely focused on Wei Ying now. “She always did so well for herself.” She says finally, blinking something away as she looks at him again.

“Have you found anyone to forge his sword yet, Xingchen?” She asks, coming to kneel down in front of Wei Ying, perhaps to look at him better, but then Xiao Xingchen sees her take something out of her sleeve and offer it to him.

Wei Ying looks back at him to ask permission and Xiao Xingchen nods his head once, his hand dropping down to his nephew’s shoulder.

“Not yet, I’ve just started looking.” He answers honestly, something warm uncurling in his chest when he sees that Wei Ying has only been given a piece of candy.

“You may both visit the mountain in a year’s time, I’ll have something made for him by then.” Baoshan Sanren says, no room for any kind of argument in her words as she rises back to her feet. “My grandchild will have a proper sword.”

Xiao Xingchen’s throat is too tight to speak as he nods, moving to bow again, but when he looks up, Baoshan Sanren is already gone, leaving Wei Ying looking up at him with eyes as big as plates.

“Was that really her? Was that our grandmaster?” At eight years old, Wei Ying should be too old to be pulling at his uncle’s sleeves like he is, but Xiao Xingchen can’t deny him this.

“Yes,” Xiao Xingchen answers finally, when his throat has loosened, “We should tell Uncle Song your sword is taken care of.” He means to ask if Wei Ying has any questions, about the mountain, about Baoshan Sanren, about his sword, but the words stick and Wei Ying is already talking. Xiao Xingchen suspects that if his nephew does have questions, they’ll come in the middle of the night as usual.

#the untamed #mdzs #xiao xingchen #wei wuxian #song zichen #song lan #songxiao #*slaps one of those baby on board stickers onto shuanghua*

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baoshan-sanren · 4 years

Text

Chapter 38

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Fuck the Canon: Happy Endings For Everyone

Information gathering has always been XingChen’s domain.

It is not precisely that ZiChen lacks the necessary skills to gather information on his own. For many years now, they have been partners on equal ground, sharing both pleasant and unpleasant tasks. But some areas are better left to XingChen. There is something about his placid nature and gentle countenance that invites confidence. People simply find themselves telling XingChen the most intimate details of their lives, frequently without any urging on his part.

ZiChen does not posses this particular skill. He is certainly capable of extracting information, but it is always done by a more direct means. XingChen’s way may yield better results, but it also takes a great amount of time and restraint, neither of which ZiChen has in abundance.

Even now, waiting in Nie HuaiSang’s receiving hall, he finds that his patience is growing thin.

XingChen hates it here.

Even as a child, XingChen had disliked the Immortal Mountain, the court rules, the pretense of politeness, and the clandestine tactics. At the age of twelve, he could play the court games with the best of them. The fact that he had survived YanLing DaoRen’s reign speaks volumes of his abilities and his endurance. But ZiChen does not remember ever seeing XingChen truly happy here, even as a child, even during those early, peaceful years, before YanLing DaoRen had fully sank into the grip of madness.

ZiChen had been fourteen years old when YanLing DaoRen himself had tasked him with protecting the little Prince.

At the time, ZiChen had been little better than a servant. The Song family may have begun its service under the Immortal Empress herself, but they had never climbed to any position that matters. ZiChen’s grandfather had been the Lieutenant General for all of three months, before a mercenary arrow ended that advancement. ZiChen’s uncle had died in a cradle. And ZiChen’s father, a mild-mannered, generous man, had always had a better head for numbers than any other skill which may have elevated his family. As a teenager, ZiChen had been a scrappy, permanently angry youth, who took forever to grow into his ears. He had picked fights with anyone who looked at him the wrong way, and took pride in winning each time.

YanLing DaoRen had liked ZiChen, but he had throughly misunderstood his character. ZiChen may have been devoted to the little Prince, but his devotion was impossible to come by, and in the end, he had none left over for the Emperor himself. When YanLing DaoRen had decided that the little Prince had to die, he had found, to his chagrin, that the youth he had tasked with protecting XingChen had become his greatest obstacle.

ZiChen understands why XingChen hates the Immortal Mountain. It is not only the memories of his past life that give him discomfort, but who he is forced to be in the present, taking part in affairs he would rather avoid. They had come searching for a murderer, but XingChen is currently trapped in a pitched battle between the Emperor and the Council, trying to find a middle ground on a matter that should be the least of their concerns.

ZiChen believes that the Emperor should marry whoever he wants. He does not understand why a dozen sect leaders and every Imperial official somehow must have a say on the subject.

Still, when in the Immortal Mountain City, XingChen is the Emperor’s only blood relative. He may be the notorious Rogue Prince who had abandoned his rank and his title, but when XingChen spoke, even the High Councilor did not dare interrupt.

It is not a bad thing, for the Empress’ brother to shake up the existing power structures. Between XingChen and the Emperor, the Council will find themselves reconsidering the scope of their influence. But this left ZiChen having to do everything else, even those tasks which he is utterly unqualified to perform.

Luckily, there is one person in this forsaken City that ZiChen does not abhor, and if allowed to see him, ZiChen is likely to find his task much easier to accomplish.

Finally, a servant appears from a side door, just when ZiChen is about to lose the last of his patience.

“The Royal Companion will see you now.”

ZiChen follows her into the Royal Companion’s study, a room as eccentric as its owner.

Silver-green drapes, a fortune worth of silk, temporarily hide the Royal Companion’s desk. The green carpet is so thick, ZiChen feels his feet sinking with each step. The space is not small, but it is visually overwhelming. Dozens of paintings lay discarded in piles. Shelves filled with books and scrolls and sheafs of loose paper cover an entire wall. A single, intricately carved stand holds a heavy saber, its steel glinting menacingly next to messy piles of silver brocade. Another stand holds a dozen painted fans, each one impossibly delicate, the lines feather-light.

Nie HuaiSang is seated at his desk, another fan spread out on a small stand, a paint brush in his hand. He does not rise from his seat.

ZiChen does not feel himself slighted. He respects this boy, a child really, regardless of his youth and temper. He is the only person ZiChen had ever met whose devotion matches his own. As ZiChen would burn the world for XingChen, Nie HuaiSang would do the same for the Emperor. Their methods may differ, but in essence, he had found they were very much the same where it mattered.

ZiChen bows, “Greeting the Royal Companion to the Emperor.”

“No need for such formality, Daozhang. Come have a seat. Should I ask for tea?”

“No need. I am only here to inquire about the recent events in the Immortal Mountain.”

Nie HuaiSang places his brush aside with care, “I believe that the Emperor has given me a diluted version of your hunt. Not intentionally, you understand, but he has been-- rather preoccupied with other matters.”

ZiChen fights the urge to roll his eyes. The Emperor is eighteen and in love for the first time. If his behavior in YiLing is anything to go by, preoccupied is a fairly mild word. They are lucky that the Emperor is managing to focus on anything else of importance.

“I would appreciate a detailed accounting of this-- murderer, and any other information you may have. In turn,” Nie HuaiSang says, “I am willing to place my considerable influence at your disposal in the pursuit of this creature.”

“The Royal Companion is thoughtful and reasonable,” ZiChen says, “How may I repay this generosity?”

Nie HuaiSang smiles, “As it happens, I am hunting as well. I would very much appreciate your assistance.”

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #ficlet #m #wwx emperor au #short chapter #moving along #the next two chapter are written but pretty rough #i'll try and edit in the next couple of days #we're nearing the end hallelujah #ily chickens

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bitterfrosts · 3 years

Text

This is @goldencorecrunches fault btw~

Lan Xichen isn’t sure how it started. His husband’s courtesy name doesn’t share any characters with his. They use different tones to pronounce. Yet somehow, being called “Lan Zichen” has become a near daily occurrence. It’s only partially his fault, he muses, since he’s encouraged use of his name among disciples after he left seclusion. It feels nice to hear “Lan Xichen” after years of being alone. It makes him feel like he truly belongs in the world.

So too, does his husband make him feel like he belongs in the world. He’d tried to close himself off from it, to rest and meditate and live alone after having spent years being played the fool by Jin Guangyao. He’d made the decision almost immediately after leaving the guanyin temple where he’d killed him himself.

And yet the world conspired to have him back. Song Lan visited Cloud Recesses, often at the invitation of his didi’s husband. And so, proper thanks and salutations must be offered to the sect leader. The man does not deign to speak, if only because he can’t, and papers bearing polite greetings are slipped under his door, bearing some of the most beautiful calligraphy Lan Xichen has ever seen.

When he opened the door one day, he comes face-to-face with the distant snow and bitter frost himself. There’s a spark there, he knows, of someone who shares his pain. Paper greetings become in-person ones, become slow smiles and lingering glances, become cold and dead hands warmed under his own and lips on his.

His uncle, surprisingly, does not complain or grumble at his nephew’s choice of a spouse when he left seclusion and informed him of his decision. He suspects that it’s because Song Zichen has more honor and manners than his other nephew’s husband does. There are no grumbles that Song Zichen is a corpse. That he is smart and capable and memorized the Lan sect’s many rules as easily as a flower blossom turns towards the sun probably helped.

When Song Zichen comes back to the hanshi for the night and sits down at the writing desk Lan Xichen has ordered specifically for him, he can’t help a slow smile from gracing his lips as he walks behind his husband and rubs his shoulders as he sighs and sits down.

“How many times were you called Song Xichen today, my love?” He asks, thumbs rubbing circles into his husband’s shoulder blades.

“How many times were you called Lan Zichen?” He writes back. Lan Xichen can almost imagine the smirk gracing his husband’s face.

“A few,” he admits. “And LanLan too, once.”

“So I win our bet then?” Song Lan writes.

“You may have had your name mixed with mine more today, but actually, I believe I win,” Lan Xichen says with a laugh in his breath. “My uncle slipped today. Called me Zichen with a look of utmost sincerity before he realized the mistake. Quality over quantity, love.”

“Claim your prize then,” Song Lan writes, slowly standing and turning to face him, a glimmer in his eyes.

“No, those aren’t the terms of our bet,” Lan Xichen laughs. “I won. YOU must kiss ME first.”

And, laughing softly, he does.

#song lan #lan xichen #lanlan #whoopsie doopsie~#I’m at work and bored so this happened #based off a text post #'my fics'#no read more bc I’m on mobile but I tried to keep it short and sweet

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besanii · 4 years

Text

double happiness at your door

part 14 | previous parts here

Wei Wuxian shifts in his seat as he listens to his parents haggle and bargain with Lan Qiren over the terms of the engagement. He’d underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be to be in the same room as your elders while they debated on how much you were both worth in material value. This was definitely not what he had signed up for when he had decided he wanted to marry Lan Wangji after all.

Across the aisle, Lan Wangji looks as placid and unruffled as ever, nodding along occasionally to what was being said, taking the occasional sip of tea and smiling at Wei Wuxian when their eyes meet. The happiness radiating from Lan Wangji’s person is the only thing that keeps Wei Wuxian from bolting from his seat in search of freedom, though he supposes the knowledge that these negotiations were happening at all was enough to please him.

“—will live in the Nine Heavens after the wedding, of course—”

“Wait, what?” Wei Wuxian’s mother interjects suddenly, leaning forward in her seat with a frown. “No, they’re going to be living in Qing Qiu.”

Lan Qiren doesn’t quite slam his teacup on the table, but it definitely rattles more than necessary when he sets it down.

“All spouses who marry into the Nine Heavens live here,” he says imperiously. “Wei Wuxian will be no different when he marries Wangji.”

“Who said my son is marrying into the Nine Heavens?” Cangse does slap her hands against the arms of her seat, indignation written across her face. “If anything, your nephew is the one marrying into Qing Qiu!”

“Preposterous!” Lan Qiren splutters. “You have already accepted our pingli, so Wei Wuxian will be the one to marry here!”

Oh yeah. Wei Wuxian is suddenly reminded of the betrothal gifts stacked up in the sitting room of his chambers here in the Nine Heavens. He hasn’t touched a single one—had almost forgotten about it altogether, actually—so does that still technically count as having accepted them? Or does he need to return them?

His mother seems to be thinking along the same lines.

“Then you can take them back,” she says. “They’re just sitting there gathering dust anyway, we haven’t touched a single bit of it, you can even count them if you don’t believe me. In any case, A-Ying is Qing Qiu’s future emperor and he must stay in Qing Qiu.”

She has a point. Wei Wuxian is next in line to the throne in Qing Qiu after his parents, he has no siblings who can step up if he chooses to renounce his claim unless his parents decide to have another child—he shudders at the thought—and Lan Wangji...well, Lan Wangji is neither next in line to the throne of the Nine Heavens nor an only child. It does make sense for him to be the one to marry. But Lan Qiren’s face is turning a truly horrifying shade of puce and is looking like he might actually burst a blood vessel, so he doesn’t say anything.

The idea of paying a bride price for Lan Wangji is definitely amusing though, and he smiles into his tea.

“You want Wangji to ruzhui?” Lan Qiren near-shouts.

Cangse sits back in her seat and raises her eyebrows.

“Well, he could always jia,” she says lightly.

All the men in the room break out into a collective coughing fit at the suggestion. Even the tips of Lan Wangji’s ears have taken on a pink flush as he picks up his teacup with slightly trembling fingers. Although the idea of Lan Wangji marrying him stirs some very pleasant and smug feelings, Wei Wuxian actually doesn’t mind who is marrying who, as long as someone is getting married at some point and this whole conversation ends without anyone losing a limb. And from the look on Lan Wangji’s face as their eyes meet, he knows he feels the same.

“A-Niang,” he says, “I don’t mind—”

Cangse rounds on him with a furious finger waggle.

“Do not say a word,” she hisses under her breath. He swears he catches a glimpse of her fangs under her curled upper lip; he shrinks back into his seat with a meek nod. “Lan-laotouzi, either your nephew marries into Qing Qiu, or this engagement is called off.”

Wait, what? No!

Wei Wuxian looks at Lan Wangji, who is looking back with widened, slightly panicked eyes. Call off the engagement entirely?

Lan Qiren grunts.

“That’s fine with me,” he says. “I don’t know why we even bothered in the first place. Absolutely outrageous—”

“Shufu,” Lan Xichen interjects, glancing worriedly between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, who looks about ready to burst. “Surely we can reach a peaceful solution to this matter. There have been precedents—Xiao Xingchen-shangshen and Song Zichen-shangshen, for example—”

“Absolutely not,” Cangse says, folding her arms over her chest with a huff. “It’s the principle of the matter. Either Lan Wangji be the one to jia, or this engagement will be dissolved right now.”

Lan Qiren surges to his feet, spluttering and jabbing at finger in her direction, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly in anger. Lan Xichen grabs his elbow before he can lunge across the aisle at her.

“How dare you—!”

“Take your pick, laotouzi,” she taunts.

“You—outrageous—!”

“I’m waiting.”

“—absolutely ludicrous—”

“I will marry.”

They all stop and look at Lan Wangji, who is still sitting calmly in his seat. His ears are now bright red, but his expression is determined as he looks around at everyone in the room.

“I will marry,” he repeats in a clear voice. “It is the logical choice, and I do not mind, as long as it is Wei Ying.”

Lan Qiren’s eyes roll to the back of his head and collapses where he stands; Cangse lets out a victorious “Hah!” and throws her hands in the air with a smug, satisfied smile. Lan Xichen is torn between making sure his uncle is still alive and looking at his brother with concern. And Lan Wangji—

Wei Wuxian blushes under Lan Wangji’s soft, tender gaze, his heart swelling to three times its size in a rush of affection. He squeezes his eyes shut and reverts to his original form so he can launch himself at Lan Wangji, peppering him with kisses and nuzzles.

“Aw,” his mother coos. “I knew this was a good idea.”

Notes:

pingli (聘礼) - bride price, paid to the woman’s family in the event of an engagement or marriage; the opposite of this is jiazhuang (嫁妆), or the dowry the woman brings to her husband’s family upon marriage

ruzhui (入赘) - a man joining the woman’s family after marriage, not very common and usually because the woman’s family is richer and/or more influential/powerful

jia (嫁) - a woman marrying into her husband’s family; the opposite of this is qu (娶), where the man takes the woman into his family after marriage

laotouzi (老头子) - Old Man

// buy me a ko-fi //

#mdzs #wangxian #double happiness verse #雙喜臨門 #my writing #fox prince!wwx #dragon!lwj #obligatory debate on 嫁 and 娶 #it's a very gendered language okay #it's not as easy as english where you have one word for marriage #so yeah #here's a really basic attempt at discussing it #anyway LQR can go burst a blood vessel i don't care haha

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