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#until Jin Ling says that the lightning will always protect him
amynchan · 2 years
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There was a line in a fanfic that read "Like my nephew would ever be afraid of lightning" and IT SHOOK MY SOUL!!!! >.<
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featherfur · 3 years
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Jiang Secret Sect Rules: 2. In Public Be Perfect, In Private Go Wild (Look To Seniors When Uncertain)
The Jiang Sect has always been a bit crazy and Jiang Cheng didn't mind that, as long as they behaved in public. The problem happens when that line becomes blurred. Is Wei Wuxian a public entity to hold at arms length or is he considered an insider? What about Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui who Jin Ling called friends? Hell if the disciples know, good thing they have Jiang Cheng and a bunch of seniors to translate for him when he panics about that same question.
Read on Ao3
Jiang Cheng had long gotten used to the inane actions of his people whenever they weren’t in the public eye of other sects. They were generally harmless, barring any firework talisman’s existing within 300 feet of them, and if the general population of non-cultivators did run their mouths it only furthered the reputation of the Jiang Sect being the one to not fuck with. (Even if that reason is because they keep blowing themselves up with talismans, cheer, and proceed to do it again.) Besides, most of the more prestigious sects didn’t believe those rumors since they didn’t have any proof and the ones who did didn’t have the balls to say so to Jiang Cheng’s face and risk a lightning storm.
As long as they behaved in polite society, who was Jiang Cheng to police their every action?
(Jiang Cheng was, infact, the only person who could police their every action and get away with it. He had no idea of that and the Jiang kept it that way or else Jiang Cheng would take away Firework Night to keep houses from being burned down. Again.)
One of the ones he really didn’t get though, was their absolute refusal to not crowd him. It didn’t matter if it was over dinner, or after a hunt, they’d be around him like a bunch of chicks following a hen and doing their damndest to impede movement for no other reason than because they could.
It was something that took a lot of getting used to, but the tradition had started in the war so by the time he’d officially been named Sect Leader and returned to Lotus Pier he was used to it. He thought it was simply an effect of going through a war when spies and assassins could be anywhere. So going out on a hunt meant that Jiang Cheng would be hobbled by his senior cultivators trying to take the first hit until he tossed them out of the way out of annoyance (not that that stopped them from doing it ten minutes later). Then the juniors started doing it.
It wasn’t something they’d been doing for years, or else Jiang Cheng never would have noticed it.
Instead it started with a simple hunt to measure his own juniors’ skills and a return to a local inn. Jiang Cheng sat down at one table in the back which was quickly filled up with his senior disciples and rather than the juniors clustering in one table across the place so they could talk shit without being scolded, the juniors spread out in front of him, effectively blocking anyone who would try and sit anywhere near him. It was a smart and intelligent move, if not completely idiotic because they were juniors and the only thing they could protect him from was a toddler.
“What the hell are they doing?” Jiang Cheng grumbled to his left, making Jiang Haoyu look up with noodles half in his mouth.
Haoyu slurped them down before turning around to glance at the juniors, turning back around in time to be blindsided with a handkerchief scrubbing at his face from his very own sect leader. He scrunched up his nose but accepted his fate.
Jiang Cheng honestly couldn’t believe he walked around in public with such idiots, they couldn’t even eat properly. Just because they weren’t surrounded by cultivators of another sect didn’t mean they could have food on their face, honestly. It was like they wanted to annoy him.
“How are you a grown ass man who makes more of a mess than your fucking kid? You’re an embarrassment.” Jiang Cheng snapped as he finished cleaning off the sauce. The rest of the senior disciples did nothing to hide their laughter, two hurriedly wiping their own faces before they could be caught.
“Didn’t you ask me a question? Why are you attacking me?” Haoyu complained, jerking away when Jiang Cheng flicked the dirty cloth at him and it struck him in the face. “Sorry sir… I believe they’re protecting you.”
“...” Jiang Cheng glanced over the violet juniors, blinking slowly. “From what?”
“In their minds?” Head Disciple Biyu said from Jiang Cheng’s right. “Getting stabbed because you forget to bring back-up. Realistically? An enthusiastic goose.”
As much as Jiang Cheng appreciated the sentiment that they wanted to protect him, he was a sect leader and didn’t need anyone protecting him. If he wanted to run off and do his own thing, then he was well within his own right to do so, if he wanted an entourage then he would get one ready.
“Shijie.” More than one junior whined, turning to stare at their head disciple with betrayal clear on their face.
“Sorry… Enthusiastic ghost of a goose.” Biyu corrected, making the juniors slump in defeat.
“Anyone who says Sect Leader’s the mean one hasn’t met shijie.” His newest junior, Li Caihong grumbled, her ears turning pink when she realized everyone had heard her.
“Is that so? Perhaps I haven’t been hard enough on you during training.” Jiang Cheng said with a bite of chicken, watching with amusement as they all shushed Li Caihong immediately and insisted that he was doing a great job of being the scary boss.
“Kiss ups.” Chao Bolin snickered, blinking innocently when Jiang Cheng eyed him next. “You’re very scary sir, very scary.”
“.... Just because you’re a senior doesn’t mean I won’t make you wash the floors of the dining hall.” Jiang Cheng threatened with his signature pissed off glare.
Which effectively did nothing and Chao Bolin simply offered him a piece of fish with his chopsticks.
Honestly, Jiang Cheng thought without heat, why don’t I get any respect?
He rolled his eyes at them, ignoring the offering and turning back to his plate, making his way through it quietly. Around him, the Jiang disciples were only getting louder with occasional reminders to not wake the neighborhood. Despite acting more mature, the senior disciples were almost as loud as the rest and Jiang Cheng had to keep pushing the cups back away from the edge because his idiots weren’t paying attention.
“Shijie, go get us some more food.” Haoyu said as Jiang Cheng took the last piece of chicken from under him. He was pouting at the empty plate and a second later a chopstick smacked his cheek and landed on the plate.
“Do I look like your servant? I grabbed the last one, you go get it, respect those older than you.” Biyu shot back, ducking when Haoyu tossed the utensil back at her.
“You’d get it if Sect Leader Jiang asked you too.”
“Don’t bring me into this.” Jiang Cheng shook his head, leaning back in case someone else threw something.
“Sect Leader Jiang writes my paycheck, I’d dump Hanguang-jun in the lake if he asked me too.” Biyu rolled her eyes at Haoyu’s remark, carefully picking a piece of rice from out of her hair and proceeding to flick it at a laughing Chao Bolin’s cheek.
“Like that means anything, you’d cover Hanguang-Jun in fish guts if you thought you could get away with it.” Chen Xinyi pointed out from the opposite end of the table, the only one who had the sense to lower her voice first. The entire table burst into laughter when Biyu shrugged and nodded.
“You make a good point, but I’m still not listening to you. You go get the food, how dare you ask a lady to do anything?” Biyu shot back at Haoyu, smirking at winning the argument. Completely pinned verbally, Haoyu couldn’t do anything but curse at her or risk pissing off every one of his fellow female cultivators.
“I’ll go get it. You bunch of drunkards would just spill food everywhere.” Jiang Cheng finally said with a purposeful glower that was only effective for a few seconds before the seniors were arguing amongst themselves again.
He shook his head at them, feeling fondly amused even as his face stayed in it’s stone glare. They were all idiots on a good day, but they were his idiots and if they were arguing over such idiotic things then they were safe. At the end of the day, that really was all that mattered.
Jiang Cheng made his way through the juniors, hesitating the first step before he turned to the one closest to him and murmured down to them quietly.
“Li Caihong, your speed is improving, the extra training has paid off, but don’t forget to keep an eye on the rest of your party.” He murmured, turning his head to the next junior, “Zheng Yichen, you noticed the beast’s weakness quickly but next time stick further to the outside instead of shouting in the middle of everything to make sure you’re heard. Jiang Yusen, your sword work has improved work on it until your speed improves as well…”
He made his way through them, watching with a gentle warmth in his chest as they brightened up. They grinned widely at him, nodding and thanking him before turning to talk to each other and congratulating one another on whatever he’d mentioned. They were the pride of the Jiang Sect, the next generation who would know a world without war and yet would be just as fierce. He would keep them from knowing that terror no matter the cost for himself. Even if that cost was a bit of a lost rumor about him being too scary to talk back too.
He leaned over the counter of the innkeeper when he finally made his way through. He passed over the money, then added a little more as a silent apology for the fact that they would probably only get louder. The first thing pushed over was wine and Jiang Cheng picked it up before any of the juniors could notice and bolt over to carry it themselves and undoubtedly ‘lose’ a few bottles on their way back.
Like he wasn’t completely and utterly aware they were smuggling it back to their rooms. They weren’t subtle or quiet.
Then the entire inn went silent and he felt a presence at his back. He turned, blinking at the innocently blank look on Li Caihong’s face.
That wasn’t suspicious at all.
Behind her, two more juniors were smiling at him as if they hadn’t appeared out of nowhere. Jiang Cheng shifted the wine bottles and looked around for what he could only assume was the mysterious ghost of a goose they’d spotted that might try and kill him.
Instead he caught the gaze of Wei Wuxian. Who looked almost as confused as Jiang Cheng felt at the juniors standing between them. Behind them, Wei Wuxian’s usual group of Lan ducklings were peering around them and surveying the scene curiously.
The sound of chairs moving made Jiang Cheng blink back to himself, looking to find Bolin and Xinyi both standing up and watching with an easy hand on their swords. Even Biyu and Haoyu, who had once served with Wei Wuxian, were watching his every move like hawks.
“Take this back to your seniors.” Jiang Cheng finally ordered, passing the tray to Li Caihong who passed it to one of the others. “What did I just say?”
“Sect Leader, shishu says…” she started, head dipping slightly to keep her voice from traveling. Her eyes flickered over to Wei Wuxian, caught between being obedient and clearly wanting to say whatever nonsense Haoyu had been overheard grumbling about.
Jiang Cheng lifted his head, meeting Haoyu’s eyes with a glare promising punishment.
“My shidi should know better than to run his mouth,” He snarled, watching Haoyu wince and look away at the admonishment. Wei Wuxian audibly choked behind him but he ignored it, finally putting his hands on Li Caihong’s shoulders and turning her around. With a gentle nudge she started making her way back to her seat.
The other two juniors followed with the wine, and the ones at the closest tables were half out of their seats, waiting for a signal to scramble to their Sect Leader’s side. He flicked them a glance and then looked at their chairs, waiting for them to settle back down before he turned away again.
He didn’t look at Wei Wuxian, couldn’t without feeling emotionally drained, and just turned back to the innkeeper to ask about the food.
Only half listening to the man, he could hear Wei Wuxian’s hissing voice.
“Maybe we should find a different inn, there’s a lot of people here-”
“Just because you’re scared of Sect Leader Jiang doesn’t mean you can’t stay in the same inn.” The now familiar voice of Lan Jingyi said, far too loud for any Lan disciple.
Annoyance bubbled under Jiang Cheng’s skin but he ignored it, even if his position now meant that he didn’t need to fear the Lan clan; he still respected Lan Xichen too much to start telling off his cultivators.
“Jingyi, watch your mouth. He’s still a sect leader.” Another disciple hissed.
“And?” Lan Jingyi said with the patter of footsteps following his words.
On second thought, Jiang Cheng wasn’t one to take a brat running his mouth.
He turned his head slightly, narrowing his eyes until he was given Jingyi the same glare that even made Biyu stop whatever she was doing. Expectedly, Jingyi flushed and looked away but he still had the confidence to keep walking closer. Jiang Cheng raised a single eyebrow, watching the Lan disciple start to wither under his look.
“We… We need some rooms.” Lan Jingyi said to the innkeeper, glancing over at Jiang Cheng like he was waiting to be yelled at or tossed out, and dipping into a proper bow. “Sect Leader Jiang.”
Took him long enough to get some common sense, Jiang Cheng thought to himself and turned to the innkeeper.
“Sorry young master, but we’re all booked-”
“We don’t need all the rooms,” Jiang Cheng could hear the whines of his juniors starting before they seemed to remember themselves and quieted down. “They can double up.”
The innkeeper looked annoyed until Jiang Cheng scowled at him.
“You’re getting paid the same amount aren’t you? You’ll still be booked out.” He growled pointedly. He knew exactly why the innkeeper didn’t look happy, knew it had something to do with an idiot in black but Jiang Cheng was the only one allowed to be an asshole to him. Even if he’d never say that aloud or even to himself.
“Yes sir, of course. How else can I help you?” The innkeeper said to Lan Jingyi, who was staring open-mouthed at Jiang Cheng.
So were the rest of the Lan disciples and their leader, but Jiang Cheng ignored them and spun with a flourish of robes.
He slid his gaze over his juniors, and raised an eyebrow. They immediately stood up and bowed politely as if they hadn’t spent the last half hour shoving food in each other’s faces.
“We’ll move rooms immediately, Sect Leader Jiang, we’ll take care of everything.” A few called and they started making their way up the stairs, more than one needing to be dragged because they were just staring down the Lan clan like two dogs posturing at each other.
Another presence made his back prickle and he sucked in a breath to keep from barking angrily at everyone in the room. He was more than capable of defending himself from Wei Wuxian and a bunch of sixteen year olds, after all. He did not need a bodyguard no matter what they thought.
He turned, ready to chew out the cultivator, only to find his head disciple instead of a junior like he expected. Biyu was holding their new order of food but her eyes were watching over Jiang Cheng’s shoulder.
Her gaze was completely blank, giving away absolutely nothing other than a loyal disciple carrying things for her sect leader. However, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian had both grown up with her, they knew what that look meant. Jiang Cheng was not about to have a second family argument in front of the innkeeper, even if this time it didn’t involve crying it would probably involve someone breaking a nose.
“Biyu.” Jiang Cheng said quietly, only getting a blink in response. “Enough.”
He didn’t raise his voice enough to be heard by anyone else and Biyu’s eyes flashed over to him. Her jaw set with annoyance and she turned on her heel, keeping her posture and speed perfectly under control and laid the food down at the seniors table. Xinyi and Bolin were still standing, watching the newcomers but when they felt their Sect Leader’s gaze they sat again, only glancing over.
Jiang Cheng swallowed, gathering up his patience to turn around and nod at Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian atleast had the sense to look awkward as the Lan disciples slowly started to move around him to join the tables.
Feeling simultaneously gutted at seeing his brother so at ease with another sect and elated he hadn’t started a screaming match, Jiang Cheng made his way back to his table and took his spot.
Instantly his senior disciples relaxed like they’d been waiting to throw themselves forward onto a sword. Jiang Cheng could only roll his eyes at them, waiting for them to start eating so he could ignore the other half of the room in peace. He grabbed his own cup, closing his eyes to let the building headache ease.
It was almost impressive how much he could want to break someone's neck and swaddle them in blankets while feeding them soup at the same time.
Or it would be if Jiang Cheng wasn’t used to feeling that way every other report he got from his disciples after a night hunt.
He cracked open an eye to find that none of his disciples had even moved, heads tilted down and to the side to keep an eye on the other group.
What on earth were they even going to do? Start a fight?
Damn overprotective morons.
Jiang Cheng grabbed his chopsticks and started to dish out from the large plate, grabbing their bowls and filling them up. As expected, they immediately jumped back to themselves to try and grab their food and insist their sect leader not do that. He ignored them, grabbing an oversized plate and filling it up to pass it over to the senior disciple at the next table who squawked and snatched it before looking guilty.
“Idiots.” Jiang Cheng growled but they lightened up, looking rather like puppies watching him with hope of a treat.
“Don’t grin at me, you’re in charge of the Night Hunt reports for the next two weeks.” Jiang Cheng said to Haoyu, watching him wilt. “What are you telling the juniors to make them like that?”
Haoyu didn’t answer and just scrunched his shoulders, trying to make himself look smaller.
“Is this about your damn secret rules?” Jiang Cheng said testily and suddenly none of his senior disciples were looking at him. “Everyday retirement looks like a better option.”
“Sect Leader Jiang.” Biyu’s voice was soft and barely carried, a half warning and a question. He looked over to meet her gaze and it flickered over to the tables of Wei Wuxian’s group before returning.
We’re in public, sir. The look said. No one’s going to say anything.
He scowled down at his plate, emotions warring in him.
On one hand the last thing he wanted was a bunch of Lan disciples running around saying he was soft or that he let his disciples do whatever he wanted, on the other hand the idea that Wei Wuxian was considered public rather than a part of them still burned sixteen years later. Wei Wuxian wasn’t Jiang after all, he’d made that decision almost two decades ago. Yet he still was on instinct, a part of them.
Jiang Cheng, without even thinking about it, had seen Wei Wuxian and his group and decided they weren’t public enough to care about their usual manners. But he should have, he should have noticed immediately and returned to the cold in control leader of a sect of loyal cultivators who wouldn’t dare to do half the things they did in private.
He turned when his juniors returned, backs perfectly straight and their eyes forward. They grabbed their food and scrunched themselves around the tables, purposely squishing each other to fit more to one table and cluster even closer around their senior disciples. They barely even looked at their food, watching the other group with guarded looks.
The atmosphere immediately turned frosty and that Lan Sizhui that Jin Ling kept telling Jiang Cheng about was the only thing keeping Lan Jingyi from bolting over to start throwing hands apparently.
Jiang Cheng looked back at the food in front of him before he shook himself mentally. He moved to his feet, ignoring the way the stares turned to him. Instead he just moved to the closest table, giving Li Caihong a flat look.
“I don’t remember picking you off the street to let you go hungry.” He snipped but she didn’t react to the harsh tone and just gave him a guilty look. “If I find that book I’m burning it and whoever’s handwriting is in it will be whipped until they can't move.”
Every junior in the room lit up and he slid his eyes over them purposely, meeting each gaze atleast once. The Book in question was something that was only brought up in private, if Sect Leader Jiang was bringing it up that meant…
Whispers started up almost immediately, just bringing Jiang Cheng another wave of false grief. He never imagined there’d come a day when he was the one playing mediator with Wei Wuxian, normally it was Bolin’s job to keep a fight from breaking out while Jiang Cheng walked in the other direction.
“Sect Leader Jiang has gotten so sweet these past few years.” Biyu’s dry voice traveled over the room and he scowled back at her as she down a bowl of wine. “He hasn’t even smacked Haoyu yet. Who thinks Haoyu’s earned one tonight? Say aye?”
And with a round of ‘Aye’s from the senior disciples, the cold and guarded atmosphere dissipated instantly as the juniors took the cue from their seniors.
“Remind me why I haven’t kicked you out yet?” Jiang Cheng said flatly at Biyu, raising an eyebrow at her. She smiled serenely at him, and nodded her head in acknowledgement.
He really was grateful every day that he could rely on his senior members to back him, no matter their personal feelings. It had taken years for him to accept it, years to even realize how much they had his back. Sometimes he still forgot, too used to the idea of taking on everything himself and not being able to trust anyone to help him.
They weren’t Wei Wuxi- Weren’t what he used to be, but they were at Jiang Cheng’s side no matter what. Helping him watch over his family of dramatic fools and stab-happy idiots.
He straightened his head again, meeting Wei Wuxian’s confused yet hopeful look.
A flurry of conflicting emotions wrestled within him and he wanted to retreat back to the safety of his sect. Where, yes, he was irritated about his people being buffoons but he was certain of his feelings for them. Where his anger flared but only out of concern and protection, where he could flutter around them and they wouldn’t push him away, where they’d nod along with anything he said and offer their own opinions but he’d never fear they’d run off and leave him behind wondering if they were dead, where he could watch them and feel at home.
Rather than looking at a man he hated and loved, feared and feared for, cared for and despised.
Sixteen years of refusing to even look at Chengqing in his secret room, and insisting he hated him even when he spent nights crying for him to come back already.
Wei Wuxian didn’t want him, his disciples did. It was an easy answer and the hardest choice Jiang Cheng had ever faced on this side of Wei Wuxian’s death.
Jiang Cheng swallowed and with a nod, started to turn away when he heard a shout.
“It’s you! The Hanguang-Jun fanboy!” Li Caihong shouted and why was she in the middle of everything?
Lan Jingyi gaped at her and stood up, eyes bright as he pointed back at her.
“You’re the one who said Sect Leader Jiang could beat Hanguang-Jun!”
“Yeah! Because he could.”
“Take that back, no one could beat Hanguang-Jun, he’s the best.” Lan Jingyi said with a proud nod of his head, Wei Wuxian’s head was in his hands and Jiang Cheng couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying. Possibly both.
“As if, the only one who could beat Sandu Sengshou is… Shijie, she could even beat up Wei Wuxian.”
The tables of seniors wheezed with laughter.
“Don’t say shit I can’t back up. I’m not that good.” Biyu called, looking embarrassed, but neither of the two juniors seemed to care.
“Senior Wei could totally beat up your shijie.” Lan Jingyi said fiercely, standing up before Wei Wuxian tugged him back down.
“Actually I think she might win, I don’t have a sword and this body is pretty weak-”
“Senior Wei, don’t put yourself down I believe in you.” Lan Jingyi admonished, turning back to continue his yelling with Li Caihong who was now standing herself.
Well, Jiang Cheng sighed to himself, I did sign up for this by saying to act like we were at home. I can never get a break
He pinched the bridge of his nose as another of his juniors joined in and in moments it was a full blown argument between the two groups. He opened his mouth to tell them all to shut up when Li Caihong bounded over to the other group, yanked a chair out and promptly took a place between Lan Jingyi and Wei Wuxian.
“I bet I could even beat you, I’ve heard so much about the Lan arm strength but there’s no way a little brat could beat me.” She grinned brightly, arm already on the table despite Zheng Yusen fluttering worriedly behind her.
“Shimei, I’m pretty sure he’s older than you. And a disciple personally approved of by Hanguang-Jun.” He hissed, gently tugging on her robes to try and get her attention away from the challenge.
“You think too much.”
“You don’t think enough.” Zheng Yusen cried but it was too late, Lan Jingyi had already accepted and grabbed her hand.
Jiang Cheng did not want to know how that ended up and promptly turned away, feeling a little better at Biyu’s head in hand posture and Haoyu’s decision to just stand up and leave for bed. Atleast he wasn’t the only one suffering.
He glanced over his shoulder at Wei Wuxian as he sat, meeting his gaze for a second. A flurry of emotions rushed through him and he scowled, before raising a wine bottle and left it in front of the empty chair.
For a second there was nothing but the chatter of juniors and the smack talk coming from the arm wrestling competition.
Then the chair was pulled back and a familiar, yet so different, face joined the group.
“Your kids are lively.” Wei Wuxian said awkwardly, taking the wine bottle into his hand.
“Your kids need to learn respect.” Jiang Cheng said on instinct, fury burning in his gut at his own action and Chao Bolin smacked himself in the forehead. “But they’re not weak.”
Wei Wuxian’s wince settled at that, another hopeful light building in his eyes.
Biyu swiped Jiang Cheng’s wine and passed it down and he only gave her a half glare. She was right though, drunk Jiang Cheng did not need to be here.
“We actually came from a hunt too, they did pretty well even though Lan Chuanli fell out of a tree, twice.” Wei Wuxian hummed, lifting the bottle to take a drink. Jiang Cheng could see the olive branch being offered and took it, feeling rather light despite the pain that simmered in his chest.
“Jiang Zihan dropped his sword three separate times and still managed to be the only one to get in a stab under the beast’s scales.”
Being brotherly was out of the question, but maybe they could start with being fellow cultivation teachers.
“Don’t tell my shidi’s faults to everyone, he’s never done anything wrong in his life.” Chao Bolin insisted, interjecting himself into the conversation the moment he saw that Jiang Cheng was alright with it. Wei Wuxian laughed bright and clear, already turning to talk with the disciples he’d never met.
Jiang Cheng could see the other seniors slowly making their way over, the ones who had served with Wei Wuxian once upon a time. He waved his hand flippantly and they grinned at him, crowding the table to greet their old shixiong.
If nothing else, Jiang Cheng hummed to himself as he leaned back into a more comfortable position, these idiots won’t let him run off to the Lan Sect for too long.
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gusu-emilu · 3 years
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raven sun: Ch 1/3, 4.6k
for @mdzsbingo prompts “rarepair, mission, hostile, paranoia”
Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Ning
Summary: Wen Ning becomes possessed by a vengeful spirit. Unfortunately, Jiang Cheng is the closest target.
Rated M, contains nonsexual but dubconny dom/sub elements in later chapters
Post-Canon
Angst and Eventual Hurt/Comfort
Antagonistic Uncles to Less Antagonistic Uncles
Dom Wen Ning
for those who saw the golden core reveal and said “needs more degradation”
Swordplay with Suibian (and all its implications)
Jiang Cheng’s plans for this night hunt did not include this much physical contact with the Ghost General.
His plans hadn't involved any physical contact with the Ghost General. Nor did they involve his right leg being immobilized by a blast of resentful energy from a tiny figurine, or limping out of a crumbling farmhouse with Wen Ning supporting him, arm around his waist. But most things don’t go the way Jiang Cheng wants them to.
As he and Wen Ning hobble out of the farmhouse, each step sending a jolt of pain up Jiang Cheng’s leg, the figurine releases a fiercer storm of resentful energy. As if angered by their attempt to escape, it kicks up dust and shards of wood that fly around them as the house collapses.
A beam crashes to the floor.
Wen Ning grabs Jiang Cheng by the shoulders and leaps forward. His jump is so powerful that it propels them through the doorway and into the forest a few dozen paces away. Jiang Cheng lands on his stomach, the wind knocked out of him, Wen Ning on top of him. They slide across the forest floor, turning up earth, until they crash sideways into a tree trunk.
Ears ringing, Jiang Cheng draws on his spiritual energy to restore his breath. He tries to stand, impatient to check how the juniors fared the attack, but he can only push up against Wen Ning without going anywhere.
Wen Ning seems to be shielding him with his body, a gesture which is thoroughly insulting.
“Get off me!” Jiang Cheng growls.
He lets his anger grow, feeds on the frustration of being trapped. He ignores the disturbing sliver of comfort that the weight of Wen Ning's body brings.
“Get off!”
The weight lifts.
Jiang Cheng sits up. “Where’s Jin Ling?”
“I’m not sure. Jin-zongzhu and the others escaped the house before us.”
“At least they got out,” Jiang Cheng says tersely.
At least one part of this night hunt is going according to plan: Jin Ling is safe.
And, he must admit, he’s been almost as concerned with keeping the other juniors safe, too. He’d taken the blow of resentful energy for Lan Sizhui, managed to shield him just in time. He’d be injured for nothing if the Lan boy doesn’t make it out of the night hunt alive.
He would’ve thought that perfect Hanguang-Jun’s perfect little child—the “most promising disciple of his generation”—would’ve been able to hold his own on a night hunt. But if Jiang Cheng must run around saving the boy…fine. He’ll do just that.
Jiang Cheng’s right leg is still locked, completely immobile. He makes it to his feet with difficulty, but quickly enough that Wen Ning doesn’t have the chance to help him. Thankfully. A few more overly attentive, patronizing gestures from the Ghost General, and Jiang Cheng might let Zidian demonstrate why Wen Ning ought to keep an appropriate distance.
Calling for his nephew, Jiang Cheng starts to make his way back toward the farmhouse, which is likely little more than ruins by now. He wonders if he’ll ever make it there to find out. He can barely manage to limp, dragging his leg behind him.
“Jiang-zongzhu, let me help—”
“Forget it. Just go ahead of me. See how the juniors are doing.”
Wen Ning just stares at him. When he isn’t ducking his head and looking at his feet, his black eyes have a soul-searching steadiness that is both chilling and disarmingly gentle. It makes Jiang Cheng want to crawl inside of himself.
“…Thank you,” Wen Ning says. “For…A-Yuan—”
“I didn’t do anything for ‘A-Yuan,’” Jiang Cheng snaps, refusing to look at Wen Ning any longer.
Wen Ning remains in place for a few moments. Then he turns and runs away, chains clinking behind him.
Last month, Jiang Cheng had to help him put those chains back on after they got knocked out of place by a demonic boar. A lovely experience for everyone.
By now, Jiang Cheng has figured out that Wen Ning keeps those chains on not just to use a weapon, but also as some strange form of comfort. Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand it. But for some reason, he just knows it’s true.
After so many night hunts, he’s developed a disturbing level of familiarity with Wen Ning’s habits and expressions. It crept up on him slowly, a few threads woven in at a time. Yet another thing that was not part of his plans.
Unfortunately, spending time in each other’s company seems unavoidable. They are both committed to protecting their nephews. If A-Ling must be friends with the Ghost General’s only living relative, Jiang Cheng will just have to grit his teeth and endure it.
At least it’s somewhat useful to know how Wen Ning fights, as it allows them to coordinate their protection of the juniors more easily. But it’s still unnerving to know the finer details, like the exact way Wen Ning likes his chains arranged, as if Jiang Cheng ever wanted to have so much knowledge about the man.
He doesn’t even care about Wen Ning.
And if he owes a debt to Wen Ning—owes a debt to protect what remains of Wen Ning’s family, too—that doesn’t affect his feelings at all.
Doesn’t even enter his thoughts…
* *  *
As willing as Wen Ning usually is to defer to others’ judgment, admitting when Jiang Wanyin is right pricks a nerve. Still, they do need to look after the juniors first, and Wen Ning can do that fastest on his own.
Wen Ning also feels a bit guilty leaving Jiang Wanyin behind while he’s wounded—especially when he’d taken that injury for A-Yuan. But there will be time to heal him later.
Maybe it's because he doesn’t have Jiejie anymore, maybe it's because he has A-Yuan to look after, but Wen Ning has become preoccupied with caretaking. Perhaps it’s for good reason. He has the ability to protect others, and he knows the lost medical techniques of the Dafan Wen. What better use for his unnatural existence than to help others? What better way to atone for the past?
He arrives back at the wreckage of the farmhouse, but it’s deserted. He returns to the forest to continue searching for the juniors.
“Wen-qianbei!” he hears from bushes in the forest near the wreckage.
“A-Yuan?”
The juniors nearly leap out of the forest.
“Wen-qianbei!” Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi excitedly call at the same time. They shoot somewhat surprised glares at each other, then hurry over along with A-Yuan and Ouyang Zizhen.
“We’ve been looking for you!” Lan Jingyi says.
“Yeah, we were really worried!” says Ouyang Zizhen.
A-Yuan puts a hand on Wen Ning’s shoulder. Fondness warms him as soon he meets A-Yuan’s gaze.
“Are you alright?” A-Yuan asks.
“Of course,” Wen Ning says, almost wanting to laugh with the relief that washes over him at seeing that everyone seems unharmed. “I’m always alright. I should be asking you.” 
The juniors all seem so happy to see him. Even Jin Ling is smiling. He still isn’t quite used to affection from them, especially not from Jin Ling.
“Is everyone okay? Any injuries?” Wen Ning asks.
He’s met with a cheerful chorus of various variations of “We’re fine.”
Except from Jin Ling, whose smile is fading. “Where’s my jiujiu?”
Wen Ning nods over his shoulder. “Close behind. But he needs help getting here.”
Jin Ling flies off to find him.
After Wen Ning has checked the other three juniors for injuries, they start inspecting the ruins of the farmhouse to search for the figurine. But Wen Ning hangs back, a feeling of dread churning inside his chest, clawing at him.
He’d already felt unusually anxious for this night hunt before embarking on it. Still, he’d been able to face it.
But he hadn’t expected the figurine’s spirit to be this powerful.
The rumors about the figurine had all been similar, and had seemed typical for a mid-level vengeful spirit. Recently, a new footpath was created to connect two villages that lay a two-day traveling distance apart, with the abandoned farmhouse as the midpoint. If a lone traveler spent the night in the farmhouse, nothing happened.
But if a group of travelers slept inside, one of them would become possessed. The possessed traveler would accuse their companions of horrible deeds and attempt to murder them all in the name of retribution.
After some research, it was discovered that the family that used to live in the farmhouse had always gotten into fierce arguments—and one day, they all killed each other inside the house. The sole witness was a small figurine of an immortal. The figurine soaked up all the family’s hatred and bloodlust until it developed its own spirit.
And developed an aptitude for possession.
It’s possible that the figurine had destroyed itself when the house collapsed, but unlikely. The juniors will have to dig it up and figure out how to pacify it.
Wen Ning watches from a distance while the juniors search through the ruins. Anxiety continues to churn inside him. It’s different from the nervous excitement he usually feels about night hunts, having never gone on a proper night hunt before his death. And it’s different from his typical parentlike worry for the juniors.
The juniors should be relatively safe confronting the spirit. They have high cultivation levels for their age, and they underwent spirit-calming rituals as infants. Their risk of possession is low.
But Wen Ning is the perfect conduit for possession. To approach a spirit this strong would be like holding a metal rod in a lightning storm.
The memory of fighting against Baxia’s saber spirit still hangs heavy over him. Almost as heavy as what happened in Qiongqi Path. Despite Wei Wuxian having taught him how to maintain some autonomy while in the clutches of resentful energy and spirits, he still has so little control over himself.
He can’t get near this spirit. He could put everyone at danger if he does.
“They’re back!” Ouyang Zizhen calls. The juniors run over to the edge of the forest.
Jiang Wanyin and Jin Ling emerge from the forest. Jiang Wanyin’s leg doesn’t look any better. He’s still dragging it along behind him, with Jin Ling supporting him the way Wen Ning had a few minutes ago.
“Jiang-zongzhu,” A-Yuan says with a small bow. “Thank you for—”
“What are you talking about? I did nothing. Get back to work,” Jiang Wanyin says before he can finish. “The spirit is in that wreckage somewhere. We should deal with it fast before something else happens.”
A-Yuan glances back at Wen Ning, looking a bit disappointed. Wen Ning just shakes his head.
“That means all of you,” Jiang Wanyin says to Jin Ling when his nephew doesn’t move from his side.
With a mix of concern and displeasure, Jin Ling helps Jiang Wanyin over to a tree he can hold for support, then joins the others. The four juniors make to leave, then stop and look over expectantly at Wen Ning when he doesn’t follow.
Wen Ning should help them search for the figurine. Should help them pacify such a dangerous spirit. But anxiety freezes him in place.
A-Yuan seems to notice his discomfort. He smiles and gives Wen Ning a tiny nod, making gratitude swell inside Wen Ning for how perceptive his nephew is.
A-Yuan steps forward. “Wen-qianbei, Jiang-zongzhu, we can complete the rest of the night hunt. Facing the spirit on our own would be valuable experience.”
“We are an ideal team,” Ouyang Zizhen adds.
“Yeah, we can hold our own!” Lan Jingyi chimes in. “The four of us even escaped the spirit’s attack way faster than you guys.”
Jiang Wanyin frowns. A-Yuan shoots a chastising glance at Jingyi.
“You’re right,” Wen Ning says, feeling a bit more relaxed. “You’re all capable enough to handle this. I’ll stay behind to heal Jiang-zongzhu. The two of us will be close by if you need help.”
The juniors head back toward the wreckage.
Jiang Wanyin side-eyes Wen Ning. “Why so eager to let them run off without you? Is the Ghost General scared of a doll?”
His words wouldn’t bother Wen Ning so much if they weren’t absolutely true. “They’re all capable cultivators, and Jin Ling is a sect leader. They’ll be fine without us. But you need to be healed.”
“Worry about them first. I’ll last until the spirit is dealt with—and that’ll happen a lot faster if you put yourself to work.”
“They’ll be safer if both of us are on our feet and ready to help if they call.”
Jiang Wanyin sighs. “Fine.”
He winces as Wen Ning helps him to the ground, his back propped against the tree. Wen Ning kneels beside his injured leg. He lifts Jiang Wanyin’s violet robes and trousers up to his mid-thigh, revealing a black wound traveling from his ankle up to just below his knee.
“It’s a curse mark,” Wen Ning says in disbelief.
The skin hit by the curse is blackened and swollen, the muscle tissue immobilized. Currents of resentful energy snake along the wound’s surface like a second set of veins outside the skin.
It looks just like the curse mark Wei Wuxian transferred to himself from Jin Ling, but worse. Now both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin have received curse marks to protect a boy that the other cares about.
Wen Ning can’t decide whether he finds that surprising or not. He knows that Jiang Wanyin cares fiercely about his family, but he also knows that he isn’t the best at following through on it. And he definitely didn’t know that Jiang Wanyin might care about any member of the Dafan Wen.
He looks up at Jiang Wanyin. “This curse mark won’t disappear until—"
“I know how curse marks work,” Jiang Wanyin snaps.
Wen Ning takes a deep breath and reminds himself that Jiang Wanyin received this wound while protecting A-Yuan. “The curse won’t disappear until the spirit’s grievances are resolved, but I can apply a charmed tourniquet to keep it from spreading up your leg.
“…Alright.”
Reaching into his qiankun sleeve of medical supplies, Wen Ning pulls out the tourniquet and begins tying it around Jiang Wanyin’s leg, just below his knee.
Jiang Wanyin tenses as he continues tying. He isn’t sure if it’s because Jiang Wanyin is in pain, or if he just feels uncomfortable with Wen Ning touching him. Probably both.
“Don’t you need a windlass to tie a tourniquet?” Jiang Wanyin asks. Remarkably, it sounds like a genuine question, not criticism.
“The purpose of this tourniquet isn’t to stop blood flow, and the charm is very effective, so it doesn’t need to be so tight. It actually needs to be a little loose so your qi can flow to the wound and suppress the curse mark.”
“Hm.”
Wen Ning could explain more. Could explain how the charm was cast, how the material of the tourniquet was chosen, how it’s designed to last for hours. He enjoyed learning details like this from Jiejie when he was young, and now he enjoys teaching them to A-Yuan. He rarely has the opportunity to share his knowledge with anyone else.
But the topic of medical operations hangs between him and Jiang Wanyin with an uncomfortable weight.
He tries to fill the silence anyway. “Even if the tourniquet did need to be tight, my arm strength is probably good enough to tie it without a windlass. Not that…not that that’s good medical practice—it’s really bad medical practice, actually—so I wouldn’t do that anyway—”
Jiang Wanyin scoffs and turns away. “Just hurry up.”
Wen Ning finishes tying the tourniquet. “Done. Wait—”
Jiang Wanyin tries to stand up. Wen Ning presses down on his shoulder to keep him in place, which earns him a perplexed glare.
Wen Ning doesn’t want to return to the wreckage just yet. Not when he doesn’t know what to do about his dangerous susceptibility to possession. And Jiang Wanyin is the last person he wants to explain that to.
Thankfully, he has a good reason to stall: Jiang Wanyin still needs more treatment.
“I have some herbs that might be able to weaken the curse,” Wen Ning suggests.
“Fine. After that, you’re coming with me to go solve whatever that doll’s grievances are.”
Wen Ning pulls out a satchel of herbs that, at one time, would've smelled sweet to him. He begins rubbing them on the curse mark as delicately as his clumsy hands can manage, while Jiang Wanyin quite obviously tries not to flinch from pain.
“You aren’t here to heal me,” Jiang Wanyin says suddenly.
Wen Ning looks up, expecting to see Jiang Wanyin scowling. What he sees instead is a surprisingly calm gaze of careful scrutiny.
“You’re scared of something.” Jiang Wanyin continues. He speaks slowly, like it’s a question he isn’t sure he should ask.
Somehow, over the course of these night hunts, Jiang Wanyin has learned to read him a bit too well.
* * *
“Well?” Jiang Cheng says. “Is there some other factor in this night hunt that I don’t know about?”
Wen Ning looks unnerved by the question, but he just continues applying the herbs, swirling them in small, gentle circles—almost caresses—with his fingers. It creates a steady stream of pain that makes Jiang Cheng grind his teeth, but Wen Ning’s touch is light enough that it doesn’t hurt more than necessary.
That alone is enough to eat at Jiang Cheng. That Wen Ning is this careful not to inflict undue pain on him—that Wen Ning is helping him at all—when the man has no reason to care about him. Has no reason to be gentle with him other than out of condescension.
But Wen Ning has let down the mask before. Let his thoughts flow freely. Although Jiang Cheng hates to admit it, Wen Ning has hurt him before.
Since then, Jiang Cheng has tried to drop the mask a second time, to get Wen Ning to reveal the spite he knows lies beneath it, but he can only catch mere glimpses.
He knows he’s hurt Wen Ning, too. Knows he deserves nothing.
Knows Wen Ning despises him.
It would just be nice if Wen Ning acted like it.
“If there’s a reason for you to be scared of something,” Jiang Cheng says, “I think I should be informed of it. Unless you’re implying that I’d be of no use even if I did know.”
Wen Ning's jaw tightens. “I’m scared of being possessed,” he says coldly, without looking up. “I’ve lost control in the past, and I don’t want to lose it again.”
The honest answer catches Jiang Cheng off guard.
Visions of how the Ghost General might have looked like at Qiongqi Path flash through his mind—visions of how he might have looked as he slaughtered dozens of cultivators, as he drenched his hands in Jin Zixuan's blood.
Anger seethes through his veins. But something else rises in him, too.
Something almost like…pity.
Wen Ning lifts Jiang Cheng’s leg slightly to rub the herbs on the underside of his calf. His touch is still agonizingly gentle.
“You seemed fine on every other night hunt,” Jiang Cheng says, unsure how to respond.
“This spirit is especially skilled at possession.”
“If you’re so worried about it, what would you do if the juniors called for us right now? Ignore them and keep hiding?”
Wen Ning pauses, resting his hand on Jiang Cheng’s knee. He stares at the ground, his shoulders hunched. “…I’d go help them.”
“And if you get possessed?”
“A-Yuan knows what to do if that happens.”
“And if ‘A-Yuan’ can’t do anything?”
Wen Ning looks up at him.
“Then you can strike me with Zidian.”
A chill runs down his spine.
He’s struck Wen Ning with Zidian three times before—all in the same night, the night Wen Ning struck him with truth in the form of a sword’s blade.
He would strike Wen Ning with Zidian again if he had to. He wouldn’t hesitate. He knows he wouldn’t.
The only problem is that—
“Zidian can only exorcise spirits from the living,” he says.
The spiritual weapon can’t easily incapacitate Wen Ning either. Normal fierce corpses can be taken out in one blow, but Wei Wuxian, in his infinite brilliance, made Wen Ning several times stronger. Zidian would have to nearly destroy Wen Ning to incapacitate him.
Not that Jiang Cheng would have…hesitations about that. Not if it came to protecting A-Ling.
At least, he tells himself he wouldn’t.
Wen Ning is silent for an uncomfortably long time.
“You’re skilled enough of a cultivator to stop me,” he finally replies.
Jiang Cheng ignores how that makes the tiniest bit of heat rise to his cheeks. Silence envelops them again, and Wen Ning resumes rubbing the herbs into the curse mark.
Jiang Cheng has seen Wen Ning heal the juniors on night hunts before, but he’s never needed to be treated by Wen Ning. It feels strange to depend on him.
The thought gives him an inexplicable urge to kick something. Maybe Wen Ning. Maybe himself. He holds himself back for the sake of sparing himself another leg injury.
“What’s Lan Sizhui’s method to stop you?”
“…It’s not necessary for you to know.”
“If there’s a risk of you losing control and harming my family again, I deserve to know how to prevent it.”
Wen Ning’s expression hardens.
That came out more accusatory than he intended.
As if he cares. As if he was ever able to meet gentleness with anything but a daggered tongue.
“Unless you don’t truly believe I’m capable enough to manage it? Unless that was a lie?” Jiang Cheng continues, his tone biting.
He’s already dug himself a ditch. Might as well look like he intended it. At least dealing with an angry Ghost General is less sickening than receiving his kindness.
Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes. “Or maybe you don’t believe I’m reliable enough?”
“I do believe in your capability,” Wen Ning says sharply. It sounds like an insult. “But this has nothing to do with you, Jiang Wanyin.”
Jiang Wanyin, not Jiang-zongzhu. He’s losing Wen Ning’s respect. Good to know. As if he ever had it.
“Nothing to do with me?”
“No. This is personal, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Personal?” Jiang Cheng leans forward, already regretting the words he’s about to say. “Do you think the death of my sister’s husband isn’t personal for me, too?”
Wen Ning rises to his feet. At this angle, he towers over Jiang Cheng. The smallest bit of fear flares up inside Jiang Cheng’s chest, making him angry at himself for feeling any fear at all.
“I’m sorry,” Wen Ning says, raising his voice. “I’ve been sorry for sixteen years.” He gestures down at Jiang Cheng’s leg. “I’ve done all I can for your wound.”
He walks off, sinking into the forest. Rage and guilt erupt inside Jiang Cheng, biting at him like wolves.
“Wen Ning!”
Feeling every last bit of dignity leave his body, he manages to stand up and limp after him, using his sword like a cane and dragging his cursed leg behind himself. A pit grows in his stomach as he continues calling for Wen Ning.
Wen Ning—the one to apologize and walk away from an argument, something Jiang Cheng could never do. Just like how Wen Ning was the one to save Jin Ling in Guanyin Temple, the one to protect Wei Wuxian until the end. Of course Wen Ning is everything Jiang Cheng couldn’t be. Can’t be.
“The juniors are still at the wreckage!” he yells once he’s deeper in the forest. “Are you such a coward that you’re just going to abandon them?
“They’d be in more danger if I’m nearby,” says a quiet voice overhead.
Wen Ning is sitting in a tree, not bothering to look down.
Jiang Cheng sighs. He’s found Wen Ning, and now what is he going to do? Say he was wrong? Grovel at the base of the tree?
Having spent most of his life picking up broken pieces, always cleaning up Wei Wuxian’s messes, he should be better at putting back together the things he breaks himself. Instead he always cuts himself on the shards.
He thinks of how Wen Ning saved his life once. Thinks of how much A-Jie liked Wen Ning. The pit in his stomach deepens.
“Back then, maybe you weren't able to stop it from happening. I don't know,” he says, painfully aware of how much he’s stumbling through this already.
No response.
“But you need to snap out of it. You fought against Baxia’s possession in Guanyin Temple."
Still no answer. He'd rather just shake Wen Ning out of the tree at this rate. He grits his teeth, shoves down his impatience, and forces himself to keep talking.
"Look, you could’ve killed Jin Ling. But you didn’t. This figurine spirit can’t be any stronger than Baxia. You can fight it.”
Wen Ning shifts slightly.
“If you give up on this night hunt and the juniors…if you give up on Lan Sizhui—”
That gets Wen Ning to look down at him. He resists the way his body wants to shrivel up under that critical gaze.
“You’ve gotten control back before.” Jiang Cheng swallows and turns his face away. “You could do it again.”
You’ve saved A-Ling plenty of times. I trust you with him, gets stuck in his throat.
Wen Ning still doesn’t speak. The restless silence of the forest is too uncomfortable for Jiang Cheng to keep his mouth shut.
“What you can’t be doing is giving up on protecting the juniors! If you’re not an ally on these night hunts, then I’ll have to consider you a—”
“If it came to it, I would still face the spirit.” Wen Ning’s voice is quiet. Tranquil.
Jiang Cheng scoffs. "Good."
Wen Ning leaps down from the tree, landing with a loud thud. It’s a wonder his legs don’t break with the way he always throws himself around, as if he doesn’t care about looking after his body. Jiang Cheng finds himself startled that he wants to tell Wen Ning to stop doing that.
“I should still keep my distance from the wreckage if I can,” Wen Ning says. “Thank you for…I’m…I’m surprised that you—"
“Well, then don’t be so damn surprised,” Jiang Cheng hurries to interrupt before he has to hear more of Wen Ning’s deadly honesty. “We’re going back to the edge of the forest now.”
Wen Ning doesn’t try to support Jiang Cheng while they walk back. He isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but he’s grateful for the space either way.
Just before they reach the last line of trees, a loud boom comes from the direction of the wreckage, followed by shouts from the juniors.
Jiang Cheng tries not to panic.
Even if things get messy, the juniors can handle themselves.
He forces himself to limp faster—
“Wen-qianbei!”
“Jiujiu!”
Fuck!
“Jin Ling!” Jiang Cheng calls.
He tries to run toward them, but he can only limp so fast. He unsheathes Sandu to fly instead.
Can’t fly.
The damn curse wound must be distorting his spiritual power—
He turns to Wen Ning. “Come on!—”
His stomach sinks.
Wen Ning is frozen in place, staring blankly ahead.
Jiang Cheng grabs him by the arm. It trembles beneath his hand. “Wen Ning! We need to move!”
“I...I…”
“Now!”
Wen Ning sinks to his knees.
The juniors' cries grow louder.
Fuck.
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elliethefroggy · 3 years
Text
Zidian's New Friend
Sangchengmonth2020 (on ao3)
Day 16: Zidian
The first time it happened, he hadn’t noticed. He’d grown so used to Zidian’s weight and yet he hadn’t realised when she’d sneaked off his hand and onto another’s. It turned out Zidian could be discreet when she wanted to be.
He and Nie Huaisang had been walking along the lake, Huaisang’s constant chatter mixing with the sounds of the wind and the frogs and the distant noises of Yunmeng. It had been peaceful. The weight on Jiang Cheng’s shoulders always seemed lighter around Nie Huaisang.
Jiang Cheng had only realised Zidian had gone when Nie Huaisang took his hand, and he felt her familiar, comforting spark on his skin. Nie Huaisang felt it too and jumped so high he almost dropped his fan.
They looked down at their joint hands to see Zidian on Nie Huaisang’s hand and definitely not where she should have been on Jiang Cheng’s.
Jiang Cheng glared Zidian down until she was cowed enough to slither back onto him. He muttered something about needing to do paperwork and fled before Nie Huaisang could see his blush. Nie Huaisang ran after him, asking him what had happened. He refused to answer.
Hopefully, Nie Huaisang would leave it alone.
Nie Huaisang didn’t leave it alone, unsurprisingly. He spent the rest of his stay at Lotus Pier badgering Jiang Cheng day and night about Zidian’s strange behaviour. Jiang Cheng did his best to ignore him.
Zidian had never done that before, but it wasn’t hard to guess why she’d chosen Nie Huaisang.
Huaisang would figure it out eventually; he was smart like that. But Jiang Cheng wanted to delay that moment of realisation and the embarrassment he would have to endure following that moment for as long as possible. It was stupid. Nie Huaisang loved him and wouldn’t judge him for this; he knew that.
Jiang Cheng still wasn’t going to be the one to tell Huaisang, though.
That conversation would require talking and feelings, both of which Jiang Cheng was terrible at. He didn’t want to tell Nie Huisang that Zidian willingly went on him because he was one of the most important people in Jiang Cheng’s life, and that Jiang Cheng felt comfortable and warm and safe and so so loved around him. He refused to say any of that.
So he ignored the problem and hoped it would go away.
The problem did not go away.
Despite his best hopes, there was a second time. He’d tried to keep a close eye on Zidian to make sure she behaved, but at that moment, Nie Huaisang had been excitedly talking about one of his most recent paintings, and he always looked so beautiful when he was animated like that, and the sun was catching his hair just right, and his eyes were shining.
Zidian took advantage of Jiang Cheng’s distraction and snuck onto Nie Huaisang.
The third and the fourth times happened in much the same way, and no matter how often Jiang Cheng berated Zidian, she didn’t show signs of stopping.
The fifth time was the first time Jiang Cheng actually noticed before it happened. He was at a discussion conference, and the meeting had been adjourned for the day. Jiang Cheng hadn’t been fast enough and had been cornered by Sect Leader Yao who wanted to talk to him about what might have been grain import but he couldn’t be sure because Sect Leader Yao liked to blather on.
Nie Huaisang was across the room, talking to Jin Ling. Jiang Cheng could tell he was smiling behind the fan. Nie Huaisang always looked so pretty whenever he smiled. It was at that moment he felt Zidian move.
He glanced down and saw Zidian slowly, discreetly start to slither up his arm.
“Don’t,” he firmly whispered.
Jiang Cheng grabbed onto his wrist, squashing Zidian under his hand. It didn’t help; Zidian just got more and more agitated. Jiang Cheng made his excuses and left, finding a quiet place where he could give Zidian another futile lecture about propriety that she would completely ignore.
The eleventh time it happened, Jiang Cheng was truly grateful. Nie Huaisang had dragged him off birdwatching. It had been going fine at first, but then the fierce corpses found them.
There were many of them, far too many. And Nie Huaisang had forgotten his saber, as per usual.
Jiang Cheng tried to keep up with the deluge of corpses, but his mind was split between defending Nie Huaisang and cutting down as many creatures as he could.
He heard a scream and spun around. A fierce corpse had got past him and was moments away from slashing Nie Huaisang. Jiang Cheng lifted his arm to throw Sandu, but faster than he thought possible, Zidian leaped off him, and, in a streak of purple lightning, pounced onto the corpse, and wrapped herself around it so tightly the body split in half under the pressure.
Zidian slithered onto Nie Huaisang. None of her sparks harmed him.
Jiang Cheng turned his back on them, knowing Zidian would protect Huaisang, and put all of his concentration on destroying every last corpse.
Afterwards, when they were safe and back home, Nie Huaisang came to find him, and by the look on his face, Jiang Cheng knew he had figured it out.
Jiang Cheng could feel the heat rising to his cheeks before Nie Huaisang even opened his mouth.
“So, do you want to talk about it?” Nie Huaisang asked, trying to contain his smile.
“No.” He wanted to do anything but talk about it.
Instead, he brought Nie Huaisang into his arms, hoping to distract him from the conversation. Nie Huaisang burrowed into his chest, hugging him back, and Jiang Cheng thought he was safe.
“I’m glad Zidian loves me, too,” Nie Huaisang said, after a few moments. Jiang Cheng groaned and hid his face in Huaisang’s shoulder. Nie Huaisang laughed and held him tighter.
He lost count of how many times it happened after that.
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Text
Final graduation ficlet (which got quite long). A-Qing lives (sort of) and channels ghosts while living out her fashionista dreams. Jiang Cheng is identifiable due to his clothing choices. Light violence and zombies. 
The best thing about living in Koi Tower is the clothing. Silk that runs like water between her hands, brocade heavy with embroidery, jewelry that chimes and sings as she moves. She doesn’t feel heat or cold, can’t sense gentle changes in pressure or even most pain. There’s still enough perception in her fingers to map out the bamboo grove and song birds stitched on her favorite dress and feel the whorls of gold and inset jade on her new bracelet. 
After the first impolite insinuation about their friendship Jin Ling stopped buying her gifts more excessive than those he gave to the rest of his friends. Ouyang Zizhen, who can describe the grandeur of Lanling’s markets so clearly she can see the hawkers and jewel-bright fancies in her mind’s eye, has been thoroughly scolded by his father on her behalf so many times that they’ve regretfully halted their shopping trips. 
Wei Wuxian makes up for it. He doesn’t have money of his own, but his husband is rich and lets him do whatever he wants, and what he wants is to spoil A-Qing whenever he’s in town.
He calls her cousin (biao zhi mei, an affection which makes several martial relationships familial and she thinks retroactively enforces at least two adoptions) and takes her places the boys are too scared to go. Good company though they usually are, they’re rich kids to the core. The streets A-Qing grew up on, back alleys and muddy side streets, are too lowly for little princes. They aren’t like Wei-qianbei, who can banter with street walkers and haggle with counterfeiters. His company is a welcome escape from the pompous brats in Koi Tower. Together with Wen Ning they walk the streets, wearing high collars and low hats for disguise. They sniff about the food vendors until oil and salt fill A-Qing’s throat and coat the remnants of her tongue. Wei Wuxian buys her trinkets, little squares of silk and jangling bracelets of gilt and enamel, louder and more delightful than the demure ostentation of the Jin. When she was young and dreamed of being rich she wanted bracelets up to her elbows, not “restraint” or “taste”.
At the end of every outing Wei Wuxian hands her a little parcel. “From your shushu by the water” he says, as if she has any idea who that is. They’re nice gifts through. Scarves and robes in fine cotton and brocade. There’s stitched florals and ribbons. She makes Jin Ling describe them to her and he reluctantly tells her about violet and turquoise geometric patterns, waxed pale into fabric. There’s one overrobe she especially likes— dark blue, Jin Ling says, with a cracking pattern like mud under the sun, like lightning, like the death lines on her own skin. She can feel the stares on her when she wears it.
The old men certainly stare when she slams open the door and begins tapping her way into the conference room, though she can’t tell whether it’s the crackling midnight robe, the green jade pins in her hair, or the fact that she’s here at all that has them so startled. That’ll teach them to try to distract her with poetry and fancies. As soon as the fine cultivator ladies, who normally scorn Koi Tower’s corpse, swept her away, she knew something was wrong. 
It’s bold of them to try to ambush Jin Ling in his own home. They’re going to regret it. 
“Xiao-guniang,” Jin Ling says, sounding relieved. A servant takes her arm and guides her over to the table, and A-Qing doesn’t snap at them. She’s learned to pick her battles. “I was just about to send for you. These kind elders have quite the suggestion for me and I wanted your input on it.”
“Is this really the place for a young... lady?” come the protestation. 
“My shibo thinks highly of her judgement.” Jin Ling says, leaving everyone to put together in their own heads who his shibo is.
That stirs up whispers. It always does. A Sect Leader, almost grown, consulting her? A corpse under the Yiling Patriarch’s protection, a barely civilized street rat. They might have given her Xiao Xingchen’s name (it still hurts to hear it spoken, still scrapes every time someone calls her Xiao Qing, though even Song-daozhang insists he would have wanted her to have it) and a backstory worthy of tears (’she survived Xue Yang!’ Ouyang Zizhen would cry, passionate and sweet, and Jingyi would add a story of her bravery so embroidered it was unrecognizable) but she’s still a parentless urchin. A girl. A dead thing. There are a dozen reasons she shouldn’t be here. 
Jin Ling has the full support of the Jiang and the Lan behind him though, and Nie-zongzhu always compliments her accessories. None of the other, weaker sects can do a thing about it. Politics is a lot like living on the street; the big people make the rules and everyone else puts up with it. The old coots make some noises about propriety, forcing chaperones and moderating the affection A-Qing and her friends can show each other in public, but they can’t get rid of her or mitigate her influence on their young ruler.
At best they can insinuate, and since Jin Ling started making eyes at the visiting cultivator from Dali those insinuations have had increasingly little weight.
What are their words? A-Qing signs, even though she knows perfectly well why they’re ganging up on Jin Ling in a side room. She won it out of Duanmu-zongzhu’s wife, who was sent to distract her. It’s amazing what people will say in the presence of a mute girl-- they think she’s deaf too and talk quite freely. You would think they’d be more careful, since she is, by their own accusation, a conniving abomination, but for all their fear they never quite take her seriously. 
“They had some suggestions about the salt trade.” Jin Ling is doing an admirable job of playing the mature diplomat. “Surely they can explain it better themselves.”
“We merely wished--” one of them starts stammering, and another one takes over. “We thought to inform Jin-zongzhu of the opportunity to centralize control of the salt market. The Jin, Qin, and Lan together hold most of the salt marshes, and Jin-zongzhu’s great-aunt ruling in Meishan mean he would be able to get the western brine wells to cooperate with a taxation pact. It would be very beneficial to both the sects and the merchants!”
“They want to put limits on who can buy and sell salt, and they’re willing to levy a tax to make it worth our while.” She can practically hear Jin Ling’s posture, arms crossed, defensive. “Xiao-guniang, I don’t suppose you have any thoughts on that?”
I’ve walked in salt villages, A-Qing replied, leaning her cane against the table so her hands can move furiously fast. It’s not a good life. Brine and heat. If they could only sell to a few merchants they would be underpaid. No choices.
(A maid helpfully murmurs a translation of her words to the rest of the room. Few people have bothered to learn the language she now uses, the one she pieced together with the help of her friends.)
Jin Ling hums. “That makes sense.”
“There’s no reason to hesitate on the behalf of some peasants,” a very bold voice complains. “Their state won’t be improved by empty sympathy.”
“They’re just boilers, of no concern to you Jin-zongzhu. We treat them well.”
Oh. Oh. 
She was going to hold back, for Jin Ling’s sake, but now she’s angry. Who of you is Hu Anshi? she demands, mouthing out the sounds of the name and punctuating it with the bracketed meaning (beard, safe, stone) over and over until it’s duly translated. 
Reluctantly, one of the many voices in front of her says, “I am, xiaojie.”
Even with her ever sharpening sense (honed by cultivation that she came into late and kicking) it’s hard to differentiate him from the rest of the horde of weakly pulsing qi before her. They all have ghosts attached to them, hovering resentment like a cloud about their heads. Rich men attract desperate hatred better than anyone else. But she thinks she can single out one fuzzy figure with a particularly heavy load of sins and a familiar tinged energy over his shoulder,
A-Qing takes up her bamboo cane and strikes it once on the ground. I talked to your ghosts, she signs with her free hand. They had a lot to say. 
That silences them. 
Jin Ling inhales sharply and moves closer to her side, hand grazing her sleeve in support. When she shakes her head he withdraws, leaving her alone on in the cool air of the Koi Tower, shivering in her fine cotton and silk. Shivering because she’s letting the change come over her, letting the whispering, angry ghosts attached to Hu Anshi’s back have their say. 
It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when she took up this route of cultivation. Mediumship is... frowned upon by the sort of people who bear swords and seek immortality. The common people like it though and before she knew Xiao Xingchen, A-Qing made the acquaintance of a number of temple diviners and spirit writers. Some of them even offered her apprenticeships-- blind girls made for good optics. Spirit specialists willing to take on a pickpocket without the slightest inclination towards ghosts were unfortunately untrustworthy by definition. She never took them up on the offers. 
Then she died and, like many of the restless dead, needed a way to communicate. Lan Sizhui played her Inquiry a thousand times in those first weeks, to ask her if she was comfortable, to field questions from the other giggling Lans. Eventually A-Qing memorized the song and began to play it on her own, tapping it out with bamboo against earth and fingers against wood. The spirit language, limited in form and structure, was easy to pick up and didn’t need a tongue or eyes. 
When you played Inquiry, ghosts answered. A-Qing didn’t mention the questions at first, just did her clumsy best to give offerings to those whose names she learned, to give justice to those small inequalities her late night listening uncovered. 
Wei-qianbei, who had what he called a “vested interest” in her wellbeing, learned about it eventually. He was the one who found her in Caiyi town (hidden from Lan and Jin elders alike while some ridiculous politics happened) fighting off possession by the little girl who’d been murdered two doors down a year ago. He was the one who helped her curse the wrongdoer, soothe the restless soul, and settle back into her own cold skin. After that he taught her Inquiry, and how to use the meditations Xiao Xingchen had happily guided her through to solidify her presence and strengthen her energy output. If she was going to get possessed, he suggested, she should be purposeful about it.
He didn’t teach her how to use her corpse strength to drag evildoers into the light. It came naturally enough and only needed a few suggestions from Wen-qianbei and Song-daozhang. 
After that things had sort of... spiralled. By the time she went to join Jin Ling, then Jin-zongzhu, in Lanling a few months later, A-Qing had found herself an avatar of vengeance for any number of unquiet spirits. The living consulted her too, when there was bad luck or poltergeists, hauntings or incomplete burials. 
As it happened, the highest halls of cultivation have hungry ghosts in need of justice too. 
She lived in the north, in a village with no name. A-Qing says as icy incorporeal fingers close around her neck. They were poor and made money by selling salt, because one woman could bring up enough brine in a day to provide a whole family with salt for a year. And it paid. Until one day the merchants came to town with you at their head. 
You have to give Zu’er, the maid who’s translating, credit. Even though the hand language drops lots of in-between words by necessity and requires creative substitutions-- earth for salt, sky for day-- she always picks up on A-Qing’s meaning. And she doesn’t flinch as smoke, hot and roiling, begins to peel off A-Qing, which speaks to her nerve if nothing else.
A-Qing taps her staff again and begins drumming out the song of opening, of offering. 
Under your guidance they wouldn’t pay them enough to buy firewood from the inland where trees grew, or rice from the flood plains that weren’t salted beyond survival. Salt worth a fortune sold for scraps.
So they starved. Working, salt crusted, they hungered and hated you.
Footsteps echo on the cold marble floor.
“Bar the door,” Jin Ling says next to her, mild and spiteful. Whatever spirit he channels in clan politics, it’s a vicious one. “I think everyone should hear this.”
So a woman took salt on her back and went to sell it someplace else. And who did she meet on the road but the merchants? Do you remember what you did?
“She’s a witch and a liar,” someone, maybe even Hu Anshi claims. A-Qing is too deep in to care. The ghost, who came to her instantly when she played Inquiry this afternoon, looking for answers about this purported plot to head a monopoly, is particularly insistent and clever. She’s been following Hu Anshi for a long time, too weak to strike, too smart to get caught by protective charms and spirit dispelling talismans. 
Now she finally has a chance to speak, in a sense of the word.
There is a complication to channeling without a tongue or eyes. She can get around just fine in this body of hers but spirits are rather less experienced. Without Sizhui or another Lan expert most can’t make their wishes known. So A-Qing has to get creative. 
As much as she hates to admit it, she knows who she learned this mean showsmanship from. Three years with Xue Yang teaches you a lot about drama. 
Cane held out like a divining sword, she advances, letting the spirit half sunk in her flesh and a faint memory of the room’s layout guide her around the table towards the bundle of quaking men. Like cowards, they scatter before her, not even trying to fight back (just as well; she can’t be killed but a sword in the stomach doesn’t make anyone happy). The ghost over her shoulder knows which target she wants to pick and swings about as frightened bodies swirl around her. Hu Anshi might be able to dodge but he can’t hide, soon she has him cornered. 
His friends abandon him quickly, fleeing to the edges of the room as she advances. When her bamboo strikes his shaking legs, she gives in and lets the ghost have its way. 
The problem with possession is that you have very little control. Locked away in the cool dark of her own flesh, A-Qing can’t even see what’s happening. Jin Ling is there, though, with his Clarity Bell, so she’s comfortable sitting back. 
She gave the ghost pretty clear directions; no permanent damage, show how you died. At worst she’ll choke him for a bit before Jin Ling snaps her out of it. 
For the sake of her friend, A-Qing tries to be subtle about her skills. Jin Ling helped her form her sign language, stuck with her even in the earliest days when the other frightened juniors were suggesting they report her to the Chief Cultivator, sent her long letters that Lan Jingyi would sprint down from Gusu to read out loud to her. He brought her here, gave her pretty dresses, listened when she talked about hungry children and towns that cultivators never visit. Listened when she talked about frightened female ghosts, begging for their lives, and murdered servants who have never gotten justice. Even his dog has been kind to her, has guided her through gardens and chased away bullies while Jin Ling sat in stuffy rooms doing grownup work. In deference to his family and responsibilities she doesn’t swear even when people act like bastards, she doesn’t run, she doesn’t summon evil spirits indoors without cause. 
Sometimes she wonders how long their friendship (bound by oaths though it is) will last. In the three years they’ve known each other he’s gotten tall and deep-voiced, while she’s stayed the same. By the calendar she’s a decade older than him but she’ll never be fully grown. A-Qing is a creature of boundaries, not a girl and not a woman, not living and not dead. Not a destitute orphan anymore but not made for places like this. 
More accurately, places like this aren’t made for her. It’s a shame because they clearly need her badly. Who else will give the ghosts and forgotten people a voice? 
When the Clarity Bell finally shakes the ghost out of her body, she’s throttling a man with exquisite delicacy, holding his warm and moving throat like it’s the finest china ware. This is how she died, A-Qing thinks. You strangled her and left her body by the roadside. You took her salt and sold it and her family starved. 
There’s a heavy hand on her shoulder. “That’s quite enough, I think.” says Jiang-zongzhu, whose voice she bothers to remember.
A-Qing lets the man fall to the floor, gasping even though she barely choked him. 
“I told you all to stop talking about your salt plot,” Jiang-zongzhu is shouting above her. “Now you’ve tried to convince Jin-zongzhu alone to go along with your little price fixing scheme? Pathetic. I’ve heard enough of it. Get out. Don’t ever bring it up again.”
There’s a desperate skittering that A-Qing barely notices in the post-possession fog. She assumes the room clears. 
“We’ll send the accusations of foul play to the local authorities?” When faced with his uncle Jin Ling always phrases orders as questions. 
“A good idea,” Jiang-zongzhu agrees. “Send some cultivators too-- it’s outside of our wheelhouse but there’s bound to be some resentment built up if a merchant syndicate has been running wild through the marshes. Where did you say they were active, Xiao-guniang?”
He’s always polite to her. At first it was a disgusted sort of politeness, a politeness that suggested that she didn’t belong anywhere near his precious nephew. Over time it’s mellowed into frosty gentility and the occasional hand on her arm when she’s lost. 
Qing province? she shrugs. South Bo Sea coast.
Signing proper nouns is like playing charades. For qing she points to herself (the words are close enough in pronounciation) for bo she taps her staff. It must make sense though because Jiang-zongzhu doesn’t even wait for Jin Ling’s swift interpretation. “That’s closest to Laoling. Qin Cangye has had a lot on his plate lately. Best to send a letter and some of your men.”
“I guess I should go do that. And I have to reassure the sect leaders I’m not doing demonic cultivation again.” A-Qing frowns and Jin Ling hastily amends, “You did great though.”
“Great is pushing it,” Jiang-zongzhu snaps. “You’re getting a reputation.” 
Jin Ling, whose voice is already by the door, isn’t impressed. “They can get over themselves.”
Then it’s just her and Jiang-zongzhu in the room. One heartbeat, one steady warm core. A-Qing turns to go, only to be caught by the arm. 
“Thank you.” Jiang-zongzhu says slowly. “You’ve been a good friend to him.”
A-Qing remembers the courtyard with the lotus pond, where she and Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi swore to be siblings in the eyes of the gods. (Though they love their other friends, they were excluded for practical reasons. Sizhui is already related to all of them and needed no further binding. Zizhen is a little in love with everyone and Jin Ling claims it’s bad form to sleep with sworn siblings, so for them to keep their options open he had to be excepted.) It’s a secret oath; Jin Ling doesn’t need the political complication of open sworn brotherhood. It’s still binding. 
I try.
Jiang-zongzhu always smells like thunderstorms when he’s stressed. Right now all she can smell is the cloying Jin incense and a sweetness of lotuses. “Keep trying. And don’t be afraid to send for me again if you hear they’re ganging up on him.”
As he lets go of her her hand brushes his trailing sleeve. In an instant her fingers graze over silk brocade and fine patterned cotton. The texture is familiar and she instinctively grabs the fabric to feel the delicate embroidery and the stiff, thick woven cotton that still smells ever so slightly of wax. She can imagine the patterns inked on, maybe lotuses? Greenery? The colors are definitely shades of purple, blue and green. 
A-Qing smiles as Jiang-zongzhu pulls away and stalks out. 
The best thing about Koi Tower is the clothing, which sits against her skin and reminds her of the people who have taken her in. 
The second best thing is getting to terrorize entitled rich people.
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restingdomface · 4 years
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MDZS lightsaber colours for my crossover AU
Lan Wangji: pure white handle and clear crystal for a blindingly bright fire stick. Light holder indeed. We. Do. Not. Ask. Where. The. Handle. Has. Been.
Lan Xichen: They shade a twin crystal in this AU so his is the same blade, but his handle is baby blue with pretty silver inlay. The last time he actually used the thing for anything other that sparing (before the clone wars starts cause he got sent to Coruscant to help protect the kiddos, so that thing did get used on a few clankers) was for cutting down a tree that was gonna fall over and into Jingyi’s window when lightning hit it in the middle of the night. The fact that he didn’t grow up in the Jedi temple makes all the Jedi masters wonder why he has the twin to LWJ’s saber...
Wei Wuxian: Black handle, red blade. He got a wild side eye from the Jedi masters from that back when him and LWJ were in the temple, and he still thinks it had something to do with why they refused to knight him, but he knew they never would anyways, so he shrugged and moved onto his own path anyways. The crystal is shockingly well maintained for something that’s over a thousand years old. Through most of the clone wars he’s actually not on the front lines. He’s tending to the zombie clones and creating new weapons at their encampment. He uses LSZ to heat metals instead of a furnace cause fire magic is more useful than a stupidly hot tent that he’s probably just gonna blow up anyways. He misses his hubby and plays really bad trap music through the camp loudspeakers that both annoys Dooku and also blows up clankers if they get too close. He tried to rehabilitate him and Ventress once. It worked for Ventress but Dooku tried to get in his head and WWX got annoyed and punched him before leaving him to General Kenobi to deal with. He won’t stop arguing with Qui-Gon’s force ghost about how to cook soup (can you hear Kenobi crying in the background cauee both their cooking is poison and everyones shitting to death instead of dying in the war lol) and helps Obi-Wan see him earlier than in canon.
Lan Jingyi: baby blue blade, shares a twin crystal with A-Yuan. They found it on a camping trip with WWX when they were like five. Handle is white with a baby blue band around the top. His main weapon tho, is just crying at the enemy until they get uncomfortable. One time Hondo Okana kidnapped him and he wouldn’t stop pestering him so he actually tried to sell him back to WWX who was all ‘no thanks, youre his father now, take responsibility’ and now Hondo is actually on their side cause he’s finally met someone more annoying than him.
Lan Sizhui: same as Jingyi, but his handle is white and red, since he was nostalgic when he chose it and he misses uncle Ning, but A-Die says he’s still mentally connected to WN and they’re on their way from Earth but Earth has shitty intergalactic travel rn so it takes like 150 years to get to them. WN’s probably gonna do that nearly-crying thing that zombies do when they get emotional when he sees the saber. Except, he doesn’t use it very much since he found that flame thrower... when the clones first saw him with the flame thrower they nearly shit themselves. Someone gave him a jet pack and now they’re trying to steal him from the weird cultivator clan. I mean. Wens are sorta fireproof imo so it’s okay.
Jin Ling: gold on gold babey, but with a red band around the top. But he doesn’t really use it much cause JiuJiu gave him a bowcaster and so he’s. Like. Scary. Armed child. Did you know he’s like 153 in this AU???? But he looks like a 15 year old???? When the clones saw him with a bowcaster they nearly had heart attacks wtf. Plz child youll shoot your eye out.
Ouyang Zizhen: Red and blue!!! The handle is red lol. The clones are thankful some of these babies have normal weapons but that sentiment is short lived after they watched him yeet his weapon (unlit too) at the enemy and then cry for twenty minutes. One of the medics has adopted him and is teaching him how to do field work so they don’t have to Deal With That Again.
Jiang Cheng: Listen. He showed up after WWX and the kids got kidnapped. And he’s got. An electric whip. And just fucking whipped through pure durasteel to get them out of their cages. And then stopped to throw a bitch fit that WWX actually brought the kids to this (‘They’re over 150 years old JC!’ ‘Do they look like adults to you? How many times a week does one of them ask you for a bedtime story?’ ‘...listen I didn’t LET them come here, they’re stowaways, no one’s letting them stay they’re just. There.’) and the clones that got kidnapped with them are all ‘omfg do we have to listen to their family bullshit...’ and it’s beautiful. Hot uncle with a whip and one of these clones is all ‘I would climb that but he’s shorter than me’
Lan Qiren: He IS a weapon and his effect is to make children behave. They sent him to the main Jedi temple to teach their kids some manners. The kids love him to death till they encounter punishment in the form of doing handstands while copying the Jedi code over and over. Those lucky little shits don’t even have to suffer through using a traditional calligraphy brush to copy 5000 Lan sect rules why they complaining omfg. They gonna get strong.
Jiang Yanli: poison soup. She’s really good at fucking up cargo shipments to send the sith contaminated ingredients and making them too sick to do anything. Also her saber is pink and purple. The blade is pink, the handle is purple.
Jin Zixuan: goooooooold but the blade is actually green. He also has a bowcaster but it’s an antique and he doesn’t really use it in battle.
Meng Yao: they’ve all unanimously agreed that he isn’t allowed weapons anymore. He just whines really loud for DaGe and a giant man comes out of the shadows to either scare you into running away or beat your ass. It took them like four lifetimes to get back to being their dumb gay married selves, but now they’re clingy as WangXian and MY just has to pout to get what he wants. It’s really horrible. TBH no one knows what they’re doing during the clone wars, they just show up sometimes and help out/cause trouble and everyone is all ‘oh. Okay.’ But they Always have Huaisang with them and he always stands there looking pretty and untouchable and glaring at anyone who looks at his DaGe wrong. If someone tries to hurt MY tho he’s unlikely to help lol.
Nie Huaisang: Fan and gossip and also looking at you like you’re the scum he stepped in on the way here and also you’d beg him to step on you and spank you with that fan and Jesus Christ there is a line of clones willing to ask him to do exactly that-
Nie Mingjue: THAT IS THE BIGGEST LIGHTSABER ANYONE HAS EVER SEEN IN THEIR LIVES HOW THE FUCK DID-
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supernova2395 · 3 years
Text
Take My Soul and Use It
Chapter One - A Twist of Fate
Pairing: Wangxian
Characters: Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, Jiang Yanli, Lan Wangji
Summary: Wei Wuxian gives his soul to save Jiang Yanli and changes everything. Eventual fix-it.
AO3
The idea had come to him one sleepless night in the burial mounds; spiritual energy can speed up the healing of wounds, could that be taken to the extreme? Would the spiritual power of a golden core be enough to bring back someone who had recently died?
It was all just conjecture; after all, even if he had a golden core, he would only have been able to test it once. There had never been any need to think on it further, out of his reach as it was, but as the breath left his shijie’s lungs he was consumed by the possibilities.
He had no golden core, nor did he have time to coach someone willing Jiang Cheng through it. All he had was himself and the resentful energy of the stygian tiger seal. That would not help, he could not heal others with resentful energy like he could mostly heal himself, as no-one else had spent time absorbing it as he had. So really all he had was himself and the heavens knew he would give himself in a heartbeat if it meant his shijie could live.
That was it!
“Jiang Cheng!” he cried to his brother, who sat cradling their sister in his arms. He could make this right, his shijie will not be the one to die this evening. He wouldn’t be the cause of any more of their pain.
“Jiang Cheng! Please I—” he began to beg, reaching a hand out to implore his brother, but his brother snatched it away before he could get near.
“Wei Wuxian! Haven’t you done enough?” Jiang Cheng snarled. We Wuxian tried to keep calm, but he needed his brother to listen to him, they didn’t have much time if this was going to work.
“Please, I can fix this, I can save her, please let me try.”
“What, so that you can bring her back like you brought back Wen Ning? No, I won’t let you do that to A-jie!”
“A-Ning wasn’t dead! That was restoring his spiritual cognition. This is different. I can bring her back, all of her, so she is herself.”
He didn’t know if it was his words, his begging or the white tear tracks down his dirt covered and bloody face; but Jiang Cheng relented, his grip loosening ever so slightly on their sister.
He grabbed the sword of the cultivator who had killed their sister and made a but on his fingers just big enough so he could draw out the arrays he needed.
One array would go on his chest, the other on his shijie’s forehead. He worked quickly, talisman and arrays had always been one of his strong points, and even now, half dead, he managed draw them in less than a minute. He would brag if he wasn’t so devastated.
He paused just before finishing the final array. It was a mixture of a soul transference array and the energy transference array he had designed in the burial hunts that night; if it worked it should use the energy of his very soul instead of that of a golden core and Jiang Yanli should live. If it didn’t then they will both be dead and, although he would have failed, it would it would be over with.
“I know I am in no position to make any demands,” he said to Jiang Cheng, a bloodied finger poked above the forehead of his shijie. Just one more line will do it, one more line and shijie will be alive again; but he will not. So he needs to tell Jiang Cheng now, needs to warn him because he will not get another chance, “so I will beg you; take shijie and A-ling back to Lotus Pier. Don’t trust the Jins.”
“What? Wei Wuxian what are you talking about?”
“There was a second flute at the Qiongqi path, I’m sure of it. I know I hear one here too. I lost control, but something— someone else helped. No sect has been so infatuated by the seal than the Jins, please Jiang Cheng, don’t trust them.”
He waited for a response, Jiang Cheng giving him but the tiniest of nods, before completing the last line of the array and letting it work its magic.
Wei Wuxian didn’t remember much of the pain that came with giving Jiang Cheng his golden core; Wen Qing had said it was the body’s way of protecting itself. He knows it was excruciating, more painful than all the times he’s been whipped with Zidian put together, but all he remembers is that he was in pain, not what the pain actually felt like; dimly he’s glad he would not be alive for the possibility of remembering this one.
The pain tore through him like a storm, lightning ripping through his very being, tearing him down piece by piece until there was nothing left but the warm glow of what was left of his soul. The painless calm that came next was almost worse.
He could hear his screams ringing in his ears, the battlefield had stopped entirely, each and every one turning to look at them. Even the puppets had stopped mid swing, as though frozen in time; or perhaps they were. Ripping your own soul apart apparently takes an eternity wrapped up in a moment.
He knew he was glowing, the same gold as his core was when Wen Qing removed it, he relaxed into where he was gripping his shijie’s hands; that meant it was working. Transferring the energy of your soul was a similar sensation to having your core pulled out; it wasn’t pleasant, but once the pain has stopped it wasn’t a complete discomfort.
It was all worth it, however, for the wet gasp, for the flutter of eyelids, for the small smile and whispered ‘A-Xian’.
For Jiang Yanli everything was worth it.
He saw the wound to her throat slowly but surely close up, he could feel the energy mending the gash on her back, just as he could feel it fading by the time her breathing became stronger and more stable.
It was all he could do to whisper out one final apology before letting the darkness encroaching at the corners of his vision take him completely. It was probably his failing mind playing tricks on him, but for a moment he could swear he heard Lan Zhan calling his name.
-
Jiang Cheng watched his brother scream in pain in horror. He had no idea what he was going to do to bring back their sister; but after loosing so much all he needed was the assurance that he wasn’t going to turn her into a fierce corpse before letting him try.
The moment he heard her shaky breaths he kew it was worth it; that was until Wei Wuxian fell lifeless into Hanguang-Jun’s arms.
He hadn’t even seen the cultivator approach, too focused on his sister, but hearing the devastation in his voice as the usually stoic Lan Wangji screamed his brother’s name will haunt him for years.
He had been sure the other man had hated his brother, what with how Wei Wuxian had spent most of the time they’d been together either incessantly pestering Lan Wangji or, more recently, arguing with him. But the look on his face now told an entirely different story.
“A-Cheng?”
His sister’s voice blew through his thoughts like a cool breeze on a warm summer’s day. Her laboured breaths were small and shaky, but they were proof that she was alive. Actually alive; not a puppet to fierce corpse or whatever it was that Wei Wuxian had turned Wen Qionglin into. He’d done it.
“A-Jie!”
“A-Xian?”
What does he say to that? What can he possibly tell his sister that wouldn’t have her breaking down once more.
“He brought you back, I don’t know how, but he did it.”
“Is he—?”
They both looked to Hanguang-Jun, who was smoothing Wei Wuxian’s hair out of his face, tears running down his cheeks.
“He’s breathing,” the man says, his voice cracked and dry, “but he isn't waking up.”
The battle had resumed around them and it occurs to him that Wei Wuxian was right: he wasn’t the one controlling these puppets. Which unfortunately raised far more questions and gave far too little answers. What he does find odd is that the puppets will still not come near them, if Wei Wuxian wasn’t controlling them why would their new master care if Yunmeng Jiang was attacked or not?
They needed to leave, if Wei Wuxian was right about the puppets, then he’s probably right about everything else too.
“Can you ride your sword and carry him?” he asks Lan Wangji. The man sets his jaw before giving him a definitive nod, and is already scooping his brother up before either he or his sister could register him moving. “Good,” he turns to their disciples, to find each looking at Wei Wuxian with the same horror and pain as he had, “escort Hanguang-Jun to Lotus Pier, do not let anyone else in until we get there. Do I make myself clear?”
He waits for the chorus of ‘yes Sect Leader��� before getting his sister onto Sandu and starting off for Koi Tower; something was not right and he was damned if he was going to let any of his family out of his sight before they got to the bottom of it.
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mihanada · 6 years
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Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation Liveblog(back to masterpost)
I’m working on a timeline for this novel! It’s going to be a work in progress as things are revealed in the English translation. I’ll probably get it out in a few hours after fixing the presentation up a bit.
Chapter 10: Arrogance (Part 5)
I missed this the first time around, but Wei Wuxian’s hands tremble when he lifts the flute to order Wen Ning to help Jin Ling, who is thiiiis close to losing his soul to the soul-consuming goddess. The actions are small each time, but he really does worry about Jin Ling, doesn’t he.
I can’t wait to see Wen Ning’s fight with the goddess statue animated~ It’ll probably be a short fight, seeing as it only lasts a few paragraphs in the novell, but the brief preview in the latest trailer looked quite good.
I remember that this whole ‘conscious/unconscious’ corpse and fierce corpses and low-level corpses just flew over my head on the first read-through. lol. But I get it now. I didn’t think Wen Ning could actually...well, act like a real person and not an undead corpse (albeit, he is a bit extreme in taking what Wei Wuxian says literally lol).
lol I love how the other cultivators rally everyone into attacking the “Ghost General” because, hello, even if the Yiling Patriarch is dead, if there is someone of equal skill or power to summon that Ghost General, it should be quite a cause for concern, shouldn’t it...
So about that guessing game of ‘how/when did Lan Wangji recognize Wei Wuxian’- when I went back and read, I really couldn’t figure it out for the life of me. My best guess was that him summoning and controlling Wen Ning was the give-away, however, I felt that explanation is too obvious for it to be correct. Seeing as the novel keeps dragging the mini mystery out, by the laws of fiction it probably isn’t something so glaringly obvious (as much as Wei Wuxian thinks it isn’t- seriously, he thinks just any cultivator who cultivated the demonic path would be able to control Wen Ning- it’s sort of true, sort of not. we saw that even Xue Yang had some issues, thus the pins in his head)
My other guess had to do with Wei Wuxian’s behavior, but that’s also something difficult to tell (until he gets to the GusuLan sect then there’s literally no mistaking his antics lol
I did learn what made Lan Wangji realize it was Wei Wuxian, but I’ll leave it unsaid just in case there are readers who want to find out when the time comes.
omg Jiang Cheng you are so dramatic. I can’t believe you made your disciples dress up in order to stalk Jin Ling and help him.
It’s Zidian! I love how Jiang Cheng is the guy who gets the whip that emits purple lightning. like, it’s so flashy. it suits him. somehow. because then he just gets into it with Lan Wangji and they have this huge clash in the mountains and geez you are an adult can you not calm down for two seconds-
lol then Zidian fails to expel Wei Wuxian’s soul and everyone is shocked.
the true mark of Jiang Cheng’s extreme reactions and that mountain-sized grudge he holds is that he continues to believe it’s Wei Wuxian despite the fact that Zidian failed. like. he really wasn’t this bad as a kid, he definitely didn’t seem to lose his temper so often. But, well, life (and the messed up events of the last one and a half decades or so) and Wei Wuxian have a way of changing a person.
BUT STILL. why do you have to bring him back to interrogate and torture him. It’s happened multiple times that he dragged people back, and obviously they can’t all be Wei Wuxian you would think he would just chill after 13 years, but nope.
lol then even Lan Jingyi calls him out on “hey that’s enough isn’t it, it’s Zidian after all!” at least it did get him to stop. Well, Jiang Cheng was always concerned about saving face (and Wei Wuxian ruined that every time as kids lol), so that’s an aspect of him that hasn’t changed.
“Wei Ying was a frivolous and wanton person who loved to have tangled ties with pretty girls.”
And yet, it is Lan Wangji he devotes entire paragraphs of thoughts to describing as beautiful like jade and all sorts of other descriptors haha.
lol it’s hilarious how Wei Wuxian was slightly offended by people saying “nah he can’t be the Yiling Patriarch, his flute playing was horrible”. Considering his flute was a piece of bamboo he literally just prepared with a sword... When I play an instrument, it sounds like a dying chicken or something.
“Then, why is Second Young Master Lan going to such great lengths to protect an unimportant person such as him?” -Jiang Cheng
maybe because he’s not a terrible person and doesn’t want to let you go torture this random guy?? sure he acts a little out there (or as a “lunatic” as they put it), but that doesn’t mean he deserves to get tortured even after it being clear he’s not Wei Wuxian (lol not true, but the others don’t know that). It’s really not hard to understand, Jiang Cheng??
...if anything, though, the more Wei Wuxian talks, the worse he makes it for himself. His responses are, well, very much him. He grew up alongside Jiang Cheng for years as his brother, he’d be able to tell Wei Wuxian’s mannerisms even after so long.
hahaha Lan Wangji’s “Mark your words.” I...didn’t entirely get this, the first time around, even after reading the lines a few times.
You tell he already knows this is Wei Wuxian because of this response, especially on the second read-through.
hehe then Lan Wangji resolves to drag Wei Wuxian back to the Cloud Recesses!
(quotes from ExR’s translations)
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