#Sometimes Yi can have a positive bone in his body | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

veliseraptor · 3 years

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okay yeah i’m gonna 150 words meme this bitch i think, i need external motivation of some kind so

send me a number and I’ll write you 150 words in that fic, you don’t get to read what I write but sometimes I do finish things out of this and I usually end up making a solid amount of progress at the very least so

nine choices this time, wip descriptions here. and only one of them’s pwp

1. “I’m not worth staining your pretty, pure hands?” Xue Yang said. He meant it to be sweet but something of a snarl got in it, somehow.

Xiao Xingchen’s nostrils flared in obvious displeasure. “No,” he said. Then, “I’m trying to decide what to do with you.”

“You asking me for ideas?”

“No,” Xiao Xingchen said, and then pursed his lips and said, “what would you suggest?”

“Free me and give me back Jiangzai and the rest of my stuff,” Xue Yang said promptly. “Obviously. Might think about not killing you or the little brat, even.”

Xiao Xingchen shook his head. “I meant - in my position.”

“I wouldn’t be in your position.”

“But if you were,” Xiao Xingchen insisted.

“I wouldn’t’ve picked someone up to help to begin with,” Xue Yang said. “If I was feeling nice I might kill them fast. And I don’t take prisoners.”

Xiao Xingchen’s frustration was obvious and Xue Yang laughed, even if it kind of hurt. They’d fucked up his ribs pretty bad; he’d have to watch that. Xiao Xingchen’s frown intensified.

“This isn’t a laughing matter,” he said, clipped.

“I don’t know,” Xue Yang said. “I think it’s pretty funny.” (the backyard is full of bones)

2. “I can’t believe I’m actually starting to wish you could talk,” Xue Yang said. “You’re even more boring this way.”

I’m terribly sorry to bore you, Song Lan thought, still not looking up. Your ease is, of course, my first consideration.

Xue Yang made a disgusted noise. “If you just make me talk to myself you’re not going to like it,” he said.

That was true. There was a limit to how long Xue Yang would tolerate being ignored before the knives came out.

No, Song Lan thought. I am not going to be threatened into conversation I don’t want and can scarcely even have, because you threatened to make my life - even more - difficult. (Walking Far From Home)

3. “What the fuck,” he shouted. “You couldn’t say something? Couldn’t yell up that you weren’t dead? I should break every bone in your body, I thought you’d gotten yourself killed and I’d never hear the end of it–”

“I did!” Wei Wuxian protested.

“Then you could’ve yelled louder,” Jiang Cheng said.

“I didn’t know what was going on with you! I didn’t want to distract you if you were fighting for your life or something and since I’m fine - mostly–”

“Mostly?” Jiang Cheng snarled dangerously, and then remembered what Wei Wuxian had said about breaking something and said, “sit down. I hope you broke your leg so you spare me the effort.”

Wei Wuxian sat down. He was looking at Jiang Cheng with a sort of funny expression on that it felt like he should recognize and didn’t. (Slippage)

4. “Chengmei,” Xiao Xingchen said, his voice different, softer, sort of. That weird shivery feeling was back only worse and his head’d just...gone somewhere else. Without him. “Say something. Please.”

If he opened his mouth something was going to fall out of it that should really stay where it was, inside. His heart, maybe. He pictured that for a second, just - coughing it up into his hands, still shuddering with those last few staggering beats, and telling Xiao Xingchen now look what you did, you fucked me up bad, Daozhang.

That wasn’t a thing that could happen, physically. Not without a lot of effort and rearranging of things. ((already here) in this promised land)

5. The problem wasn’t getting past the barrier. The problem was getting past the barrier in a way that meant no one would notice someone had gone inside. Not that anyone would probably look too close - again, most of the cultivation world seemed to like it better pretending that there was no Burial Mounds anymore - but this was technically Yunmeng territory and Xue Yang had no interest in getting snapped up in Sandu Shengshou’s jaws.

Get in, get out, be back to Yi City and Xiao Xingchen before long.

He did manage to slip in with just a little bit of careful work, without breaking anything, and stepped into the Burial Mounds.

He felt it right away, the hair on his skin rising a little, the aftertaste of resentment almost a taste in his mouth. It wasn’t suffocatingly intense, but it was strong enough that he held still for a moment, waiting. Letting it sweep over him, caress his skin, coil around his wrists. He didn’t try to fight it.

This part’d always been easy. It was like pain. Something that could be bad, if you let it be, but you could take it in and make it part of you, let it become power. (a symphony for the departed)

6. What if you can reach him, reason with him, help him let go?

The people here were in danger. The right thing to do was clear. It would be irresponsible to delay in acting decisively to help them simply for his own selfish reasons. He had already failed them; delaying further would make it worse.

He still knows you.

There was a knot in his chest.

He needed to fix this. (the fair and the brave and the good must die)

7. “You brought me a present?” he said, with such transparent and delighted shock that she almost laughed; she held it back, suspecting he’d take it as mockery.

“I brought you a lunch,” she corrected. “I made some soup. I…” She paused, and then said, honestly, “I used to cook for my family, and I missed it.”

“Huh,” Chengmei said, something slightly quizzical touching his expression for a brief moment before he said, “thanks, jiejie! Let me have some,” and held out his hands expectantly. Again she felt that strange, almost searing fondness, and rode it to take out the pot and bowls, ladling a serving out for him.

“Don’t you get enough to eat at Jinlintai?” she asked, seeing how hungrily he was eyeing the small bowl.

“Yeah,” Chengmei said, “but you never really forget how it feels to be hungry.” (this world is gonna break your heart)

8. He said it as a joke. Well, mostly. And not so much a joke as an annoyed wish, because he was trying to read and Xue Yang was feeling bored and neglected, which meant, like an understimulated husky, he was going to make it everyone’s problem.

At least right now it was just manifesting as trying to drag Song Lan into a conversation he didn’t want to have, and then trying to provoke him into something else, which he wasn’t going to indulge, and finally he lost it a little and said, “cut it out and stop bothering me for ten minutes, I swear someone should put a muzzle on you.” (heel, stay)

9. A-Qing was quiet for a few moments. She shifted on her feet.

“Was he hot?” she asked.

Xiao Xingchen shot her a dirty look. “I thought you didn’t want details.”

“If you’re going to make terrible choices I at least want to know if your terrible choice was hot.”

Xiao Xingchen debated with himself how much judgment he could take this morning, and decided that he might as well finish it out. “It was him,” he said. “Xue Yang.”

“Who?” a-Qing said blankly.

“The guy from the hospital,” Xiao Xingchen said helplessly.

“Dumpster guy?” Xiao Xingchen didn’t bother to confirm. “You fucked dumpster guy?” Xiao Xingchen could feel his face getting even hotter. (Redux)

#just throwing this out there to collect while i'm at work #150 words meme #fic excerpt #confessions of a frustrated writer

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ghafahey · 4 years

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@mdzswomen Appreciation Week 2: Day 5 — Repentance

Rated:

Pairing:

Lan Yi/Baoshan Sanren

for you: repentance.

Lan Yi sits and waits, her knees cold and her mind a thousand leagues away with the one she loves, even after centuries.

It’s so cold all around her that sometimes she forgets who she was, who she is, who she may never be again.

In the darkest nights, when all around her there’s nothing but a deep pit of emptiness, all she remembers is a pair of dark eyes and a mouth set in a determined line and the silent call to please stay, stay stay stay.

ii.

There’s Lan set into every single frame of his bones. Lan Yi can tell from far away before he even enters the cave she’s been stuck in for centuries. There’s a deep sense of duty, a commitment to justice, a grief that seems too old for his young body. The other one, laughter and smiles and teasing stitched into his skin, is so different that she can’t help but chuckle to herself when he falls into ice-cold water, emerging spluttering and soaked to the bone. But then, her great-great-great-great-something takes off his headband – the sacred headband no one is supposed to touch, well unless… - and binds their wrists together so they can approach her guqin. It makes her falter for a moment, her mind recalling, trying to reach out to someone – far away and still breathing and missing from her like a limb. She doesn’t think they realize the full extent of their fate which has been intertwined so irrevocably now.

iii.

“Don’t you think,” Baoshan Sanren says, the comb halting on a particularly stubborn knot in the long dark waves of Lan Yi’s hair. Fingers brush her shoulders, clad in pale blue robes, shuddering from the touch. “It’s a bit ridiculous to need a piece of cloth to practice self-restraint.”

Lan Yi raises one eyebrow at her friend in the mirror.

(Friend seems, she muses, too little a word. Not nearly enough, not even right in her mind, no less on her tongue. There’s another, one dripping with a meaning that leaves her lungs empty when she thinks of it and so, she hasn’t dared to voice it just yet.)

(One day, she promises herself, she’ll look Baoshan Sanren in the eyes and tell her, drenched in all the heaviness of her heart. She’ll tell her: “You’re the one I was looking for before I even knew. You’re the one my soul recognized upon our first meeting, down in the forest so close to midnight, your mouth smiling around some fruit and my own tipping up involuntarily. You’re the one I know will understand my every word and doing because I would understand yours too.”)

(But not tonight.)

“I mean, simply, that if that is all it takes for you to practice restraint… does that not in itself deem you weak.”

The knot loosens. Lan Yi turns, eyebrows still raised, and mouth curled in amusement. Their shoulders knock and Baoshan grins down at her, her eyes two pools of mystery it could take a lifetime and more to decode. Their breaths mingle in the small space between them; growing smaller each time, Lan Yi notices, they’re together at night before both retiring to their respective beds.

“Maybe I am,” she muses, her voice a teasing whisper through heavy nighttime air.

Baoshan's eyes flicker, just for a moment, and her mouth twists as if there’s something else to say, something else to do. The moment passes. There’s still a handful of distance between them.

“Personally…,” she rises from where she's been sitting behind Lan Yi, stretching until the joints of her bones crack with a loud pop. “I would like to see you unrestrained.”

iv.

It’s still cold. Not unbearably so. Not after centuries. But the ice has never been the problem. The problem is hundreds, thousands of leagues away, on a mountain, hidden by green and secret passageways and shrouded in mystery. Still alive, still breathing, still warm from the blood in her bones while Lan Yi herself is a shred of who she once was. Her power fades each day, drains and leaves her more and more a shell unable to reach out towards the mortal realm.

The problem is: there are so many things left unsaid.

The problem is: she had the chance to make a different choice but was too blinded by ambition to listen.

The problem is: the day Lan Yi went against her soul’s mate she left part of herself with her and never got it back. Until then, how will she find peace? Until then, does she even want to?

The problem is, the problem always has been: Baoshan’s laughter and the crinkles that come out around her eyes and her head thrown back in joy and the image of it branded like fire into Lan Yi’s mind.

He sits and reads and stares, frost between his brows, at the wall.

“We could carve him from stone and put him in a courtyard. He has the face for it.”

Sometimes Baoshan visits her. It’s a hallucination, of course, Lan Yi is a smart woman who doesn’t fall for simple tricks of the mind baked in hope and loneliness. She knows it can only be a hallucination because she hasn’t had the courage to seek her out herself. She makes excuses for preserving energy, for guarding the Yin Iron – yet she knows the familiar feeling of dread and shame pooling in her stomach.

Still, it’s nice to see Baoshan perched on the ice altar next to her guqin, much like the boy one of her disciples gave life to years ago now. In contrast to Wei Ying, no one scolds her for so carelessly sitting down next to the powerful heirloom. In fact, the sight is welcome. She looks exactly like the day Lan Yi last saw her, not a single wrinkle around her eyes or a grey hair in the waterfall of black flowing down her back. Maybe she hasn’t aged after all or maybe Lan Yi’s imagination just doesn’t like to be realistic.

“He is in mourning,” Lan Yi replies gently.

It’s a feeling she knows too intimately herself. But while the boy – a man now, not the young soul who stumbled into this cave years ago and bound himself without thinking, now hardened by war and loss and heartbreak – mourns for the love he lost to death, Lan Yi mourns for the love she lost to life.

“Tell me,” Baoshan says from her place at the altar, not taking her eyes off Lan Wangji and the stiff set of his shoulders while Lan Yi can’t seem to take her eyes off her. “Do those descendants of yours truly think sitting in an ice cave for unbelievable amounts of time will cure one of love?”

Lan Yi had gotten a glimpse of said descendant once, a man set in his principles and beliefs and pride dripping off his mustache. She’s also heard the story that the very same mustache once got shaved off by one of Baoshan Sanren’s disciples, the mother of the man being mourned in these halls. It would not surprise her if that man thinks solitary confinement in the hidden cave of a mountain, blood and scars on your back and your heart in shambles, was the cure to heartache and grief.

"They have not gotten much smarter with the centuries, I fear," she replies after a moment and Baoshan Sanren's lips quirk in a smile she misses more than sunshine on her skin and the smell of flowers. Centuries locked in this place seem suddenly bearable at the sight that once greeted her every day - sometimes mischievous, sometimes gentle and sometimes, dare she hope, loving.

"This one though, I think... he'll be fine." And then the smile dies on the hallucination's lips and suddenly, finally, her eyes meet Lan Yi's across the cave, her gaze so intense that for a few short moments she's fool enough to believe Baoshan is truly here. "He won't have to mourn forever."

vi.

“Lan Yi,” a hand shakes her awake, not too gently. When she blinks her eyes open, morning light greets her first, then Baoshan’s furrowed brows. Her back and neck ache from the position she fell asleep in, her head on the desk between books and scrolls.

“Oh,” she winces when she straightens again, her back making a painful sound. Baoshan’s hand is still on her shoulder, gripping a little too tightly.

“You fell asleep over this again?” She eyes the contents on the table, then huffs out a breath. Her hand falls from Lan Yi’s shoulder and Lan Yi swallows down the sound of disapproval that forms in her throat. “I should have never told you about the Yin Iron.”

It’s not the first time they’re having this argument, not the first time Baoshan has found her in the library at an early hour, not the first time her eyes have clouded with anger and disappointment like that.

Lan Yi rises, shakes out her shoulders as if that could also shake off her friend’s glare and the cold grip around her heart at having disappointed the most important person in her life.

“I am simply researching a bit,” she says but doesn’t meet Baoshan’s eyes. “There has to be a way to neutralize the Yin Iron, to use it for good.”

Her friend is silent, maybe run out of arguments against her because they keep going in an endless cycle of back-and-forth, neither of them ready to budge, to admit they might be wrong. It’s been weighing on them for months now, slowly carving an abyss between them that has never been there before.

When once they would sit together at night, brushing each other’s hair, sharing stories and laughter and wine, now Lan Yi retires to the library instead and avoids Baoshan’s judging eyes and harsh words.

“Even if there is,” Baoshan admits after a moment, her voice lowered and no longer angry. When Lan Yi looks up she finds the other woman moving closer, her eyes pleading even before she reaches out a hand to grip Lan Yi’s elbow. “Have you even spared a thought to what it might cost you?”

She has. Of course, she has though she has pushed it all away to not be distracted from her goal. This has to work, has to go well, and earn her the respect among the other clan leaders she has always deserved. No matter the cost, she is willing to pay it, she thinks. Has to trust in her own abilities and mind to see this through and come out of it victorious and unscathed and a legend for the future generations to marvel at.

So, she raises her chin and stares Baoshan down. “I am willing to pay that price.”

Her friend swallows and as her eyes lower, so does her hand, falling from Lan Yi’s elbow and once again opening up the chasm between them she was trying to bridge with a simple touch. One that had once brought so much comfort.

“I am not.” She turns as if defeated though her words prove the opposite. “So I hope you will forgive me for praying every night that you never find the Yin Iron’s true location.”

vii.

Sometimes, when she curls around herself on the ground and lets the rabbits settle next to her as if she had a need for sleep, her mind flicks through memories like pages of a book. It stays on the good parts often enough, on laughter with wine on her lips, on the comfort of arms wrapped around her, on her name whispered against her neck one night when they had gotten too drunk and lost themselves; on the bright eyes of her disciples when she had instructed them, the girls especially, on the respect some had paid her; on days even longer past when she would be surrounded by her mother and father and brothers for dinner.

Most times it makes her relive the bad parts too, death upon death, insults whispered behind her back but just loud enough for her to hear, the sneer of men thinking themselves above her.

And then, Baoshan’s sword raised against her, the one thing she never thought to live through. It still hurts just as much as that night, no matter her intentions. She’s unable to say anything but her mind screams I thought we were bound for life and death. I thought you would never raise your sword against me. I thought we were destined to stand and fight and live side by side.

It was an illusion perhaps, a dream she had crafted of a reality that could never be true just to console herself that maybe, some version of them had gotten to that part they had always dreamed of.

They didn’t in this life.

In her dreams, which aren't dreams at all because she cannot sleep, a hand runs through her hair and a familiar voice whispers her name, followed by apologies she is so eager to return but can't because she has no voice.

When Lan Yi opens her eyes, still tired, her face wet from snow and tears, it’s to the same cold walls as the last thousand days.

viii.

There is a wedding happening. Something tells her, maybe a whispered prayer or a flow of energy filled with a particular shade of happiness.

“You were right,” she tells Baoshan Sanren's illusion, who has her head in her lap and her dark hair spread out like a fan. Lan Yi cards her hands through it slowly, gently, savoring the moment that seems so real she feels it pricking behind her eyes. “He did not have to mourn forever.”

Baoshan looks up then and raises a hand to the corner of Lan Yi’s mouth, her thumb gliding over it like a kiss she never dared to press there.

“It was supposed to be us.”

iv.

Her biggest regret, her biggest dream lives thousands of leagues away on a mountain, secluded and centuries-old and Lan Yi hopes selfishly that she has not been forgotten. That maybe Baoshan Sanren too wakes up sometimes and aches for the love they never spoke but knew too well, for the future they could have had if only, if only…

Locked away in an ice cave is as much repentance for playing at power, for not listening, for breaking the seal on an object that once more has caused so many deaths as it is for taking a knife to the thread that connected her to Baoshan and cutting right through it. She's sure she deserves this.

So, Lan Yi sits and waits and fades slowly and thinks that maybe, once she has gone from this world entirely, she’ll be given another chance.

I’ll get it right this time, she promises.

#mdzswomen #lan yi #lan yi x baoshan sanren #the untamed #my writing #oops?

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imaginaryelle · 4 years

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Turnabout and Start Again part 4

(Thanks as always to @miyuki4s and @morphia-writes for beta help!) part one | part two | part three

Lan Wangji reaches the edge of the village at dusk on the third day. Three days of walking, of meditating while a small handful of rice cooks over a smoldering campfire and easing his body through unarmed, sword, and horse-whisk forms when twilight makes continued travel too treacherous. His horse-whisk forms are not as fluid as his sword forms but the flow of it is coming back to him with practice, even if this body is weaker than his own and sometimes stumbles through movements he’s accustomed to performing by instinct. His spiritual energy replenishes slowly; it’s clear that the cultivator who was born to this body had training, and practice, but perhaps in a limited and unfocused direction. Or perhaps the time in the cells had been more grueling and damaging than Lan Wangj first assumed. The curse mark has darkened around the edges, which does not bode well. Without a golden core to draw on he will need assistance soon.

The soul bond does not care about buildings, fences or propriety. He knows Wei Ying is nearby, close, but that is all.

“Wait!” He turns. A man wearing a merchant’s apron is running towards him, one arm raised to gesturing him closer. “Please come inside quickly, it’s not safe—” he startles to a halt and bows. “Ah, forgive me, Daozhang. Perhaps you already know of our problems.”

He frowns. “Problems?” Perhaps he should not be surprised to find trouble. Wei Ying must be here for a reason.

“It’s plagued us for three days now.” The merchant looks over his own shoulder. “The whole of the Wang family—The streets are not safe—”

There is a scream to the east, and the merchant pales.

“It’s started again.”

“Protect yourself and your family,” Lan Wangji instructs, looking beyond the man to the lantern-lit doorway of a pottery shop and the faces peering through it. He turns toward the sound of the scream and runs.

He is not fast enough. He arrives to find an elderly man dead on the ground and a pair of onlookers, both grieving. No. Not elderly. The dead man has been stripped of both life and spirit, his remains sunken and shriveled, making it impossible to tell his original age. He is also missing his left arm, as if it had been severed from the shoulder.

“What did this?” Lan Wangji asks.

“It was the ghost,” the younger woman says, “We were on our way home, and Gege started attacking that man—” she hiccups, “—I told him not to touch the cultivators’ things. He said it would protect us—” she stops, crying harder. The older woman has not looked up at all.

Lan Wangji has never been good at giving comfort. The best he can offer is a quick and just conclusion to this family’s troubles. He bends to search the corpse for the mentioned cultivator’s tool and finds a spirit lure tucked inside the cross of his yi. It seems the man drew trouble upon himself, however good his intentions.

“You should move indoors,” he says, folding the lure into his own sleeve. There are worse-prepared targets at risk. “Where is the other man now?” he asks. The young woman points wordlessly down an alley and he sets off again, more slowly this time, listening hard.

Not a ghost, he thinks. Not if it has killed for multiple nights in a row.

The alley opens onto the main market street; the street stalls are deserted, the lanterns snuffed out. Even the buildings are closed and shuttered, weak light bleeding around the edges of windows and doors. Spirit lures hang at intervals, most of them drafted by the same hand as the one he carries, but there are small differences. The first one he passes might reach twelve li, the second only ten li. By the time he reaches the third he realizes the change is deliberate; this cultivator is trading distance for attraction. The flags are a path, drawing spirits ever inward. The one he bears is stronger than the ones he passes. He picks up his pace.

Something lunges out of the shadows, a hand outstretched toward his face, and he whirls aside, sinking into a ready stance.

There is no life in his attacker’s bulging eyes. No human coordination to his movements. Whatever has possessed him does not restrict itself to the limits of skin and bone and muscle. Lan Wangji whirls again, readying the horsetail whisk in one hand and shaking out the spirit lure with the other.

Three passes with the whisk and a few steps deeper into the lure trap and the body shudders. The skin sucks inward, the legs stumble. It falls.

The left hand still moves, twisting out of the man’s pale sleeve and lunging towards Lan Wangji even faster than before, as if possessing a body had been holding it back.

Turn, strike, step back. Strike, step, turn.

This is no average fierce corpse, born from an average man resentful in death and dismemberment. Each strike takes more effort than the last. The whisk will not survive another.

Lan Wangji can feel his spiritual power fading. His arms are trembling, and his breath comes more quickly. He drops the strikes out of the pattern, whirling and turning, leading the arm back and further back down the path of lure flags in the hopes that whoever set them has more in mind than simply choosing their battlefield.

“Over here!” someone yells, but he cannot take his eyes off the arm. A moment later he is flanked by two cultivators, one in dark colors, one in pale shades, their swords already drawn. The high, piercing notes of a familiar dizi sing through the night air.

Chenqing. Wei Ying.

In the shadows beyond the arm, back up the path Lan Wangji has traveled, the corpse of the formerly possessed man lurches to its feet and rushes forward.

“There’s an array 3 zhang behind you,” the cultivator on his left says. “Throw the lure in the center!”

“We don’t need the lure,” scoffs the other one, but Lan Wangji can see how their swords shake under the arm’s attacks, even with another fierce corpse to act as distraction.

Lan Wangji backs up quickly and spins to find this new target. The array is a shadow, darker and more menacing than the simple absence of light, a peculiarity emphasized by the ring of lanterns placed around it. He throws the lure into its center.

A dismayed shout sounds behind him and something hits his shoulder hard. The arm. Long nails dig through the layers of his clothes, which are only cloth—there are no protective talismans stitched into the seams or collar.

He turns as swiftly as he can, shedding his outer layer and swiping with the whisk to flip the whole bundle—arm and yi together—into the array.

The arm struggles for a moment, then quiets.

Chenqing’s notes fade. A sharp whistle sounds out.

Wei Ying jumps to the edge of the array.

Wei Ying.

He looks … older than Lan Wangji remembers. And calmer, the riot of resentment that had churned within him no longer threatening to slip from his grasp due to a moment’s inattention.

He still does not carry a sword.

A lingering, scrabbling fear that Lan Wangji’s efforts had come to nothing or gone awry is soothed and swept away. Wei Ying lives. Wei Ying is whole.

Wei Ying kneels at the edge of the array and snaps his fingers. The shadowy edges rise like a cage and twist inward, bearing down until the arm is engulfed in it, and then the dark mass is swept neatly into a qiankun pouch. Lan Wangji’s dark outermost yi and the now-broken horsetail whisk sit alone on the cobblestone street.

“That was quick thinking,” Wei Ying says as he retrieves the _yi _and holds it out. “Sorry it came to that. Someone was supposed to be guarding that lure.”

There is no recognition in Wei Ying’s eyes. Lan Wangji is not certain why he thought there would be, when he still does not recognize the face he wears any time he catches a glimpse of it.

He reaches for the yi. Perhaps if they touch—perhaps the soul bond—

“Wei-zongzhu,” one of the cultivators says, the one who had stood on his left, who wears the same black and red as Wei Ying. Because, Lan Wangji realizes, Wei Ying is a sect leader now, with disciples, and not only refugees in his care. Zongzhu. He hadn’t thought Wei Ying was interested in the position.

Two more cultivators have joined the group, also in black and red. The fourth wears pale gold that glimmers in the lantern light. Lan Wangji takes the yi from a lower part, far from Wei Ying’s hand. This is not a revelation he feels like sharing indiscriminately.

Wei Ying follows his disciple’s gaze and looks over his shoulder. “Oh.” He sounds resigned. Lan Wangji turns to see what has caught his attention.

A party of cultivators is alighting in the street. A very familiar party of cultivators, wearing Gusu-Lan white and blue, pale ribbons drawing bright lines across their foreheads. Most of them are young, the cut and embroidery of their hanfu marking them as junior disciples. Lan Wangji doesn’t recognize any of them. None but the leader, who is so familiar Lan Wangji knows him by the glare of his sword before he lands, by the xiao at his side, by the line of his shoulders and the way he scans over his companions to make sure they’ve all arrived safely.

His brother’s face was more familiar than his own even before the past three days.

“Wei-zongzhu,” says Lan Xichen. He sheathes Shuoyue, then bows with cold grace. There is no smile for Wei Ying. Instead of a curious glance to ascertain the health of his companions, his gaze is wary.

“Lan-zongzhu.” Wei Ying’s smile as he bows is bitter. “I didn’t realize the Lan Clan had extended their territory. We were investigating reports of a beast in the next valley when news of this threat reached us.”

“Of course.” Lan Wangji has never seen his brother so stern. “And do you have conclusions to share?”

“A particularly angry victim of lingchi.” Wei Ying holds up his qiankun pouch. “Or rather, his left arm. The rest of him seems to be beyond my lures’ reach.”

Lan Xichen nods. “And is the Yiling-Wei Sect taking on the responsibility of reuniting the pieces?”

Wei Ying shrugs, then turns to Lan Wangji. “Unless you wish to claim it?” he asks.

Lan Wangji shakes his head. Speech is impossible, words locked in this throat.

“Liang Feihong-gongzi?”

The name is familiar, but still it takes him a moment to realize Lan Xichen is not looking among his own disciples, but at Lan Wangji. Recognizing the body, but not the soul occupying it. That too is a blow, different from Wei Ying’s ignorance. His brother has always known him best, but does not see him now.

Liang Feihong. That’s who this body belongs to. Born in Caiyi, Lan Wangji remembers. Son of a fisherman. Trained for several years but returned to his family after news of his father's death during the war. Lan Wangji is abruptly grateful he’d thought to wear the forehead ribbon only to tie up his hair before encountering another cultivator. He has no explanation for why Liang Feihong would still be wearing it as intended.

“I was sorry to hear about your circumstances,” Lan Xichen is saying, concern and warmth returning to his voice. “I hope you remember that you can always return to us, if you have need.”

Lan Wangji does not reveal himself, or ask why Liang Feihong might have a publicly known need for aid. The tension between his brother and Wei Ying is too alarming to risk further confusion.

“Thank you Lan-zongzhu.” He bows in acknowledgment, the familiar necessities of polite niceties loosening his tongue. “I am grateful for your offer. I will keep it in mind.”

His brother smiles. “Please,” he says, “allow us to at least escort you back to Gusu, and see to your injuries.”

Gusu. Homesickness crashes over Lan Wangji like a wave. He could return to Cloud Recesses. In Cloud Recesses, the world will make sense, the last three days shrunken down to something more manageable. Cloud Recesses holds familiar clothes, familiar food, familiar patterns and quiet. His brother's familiar smile and steadiness and supportive, listening ear.

Or at least. Cloud Recesses had held those things. A lifetime ago, before he stood with his blade between his clan and Wei Ying, and before he was pinned to the stone of the central courtyard and whipped until he could do nothing but lie on his stomach and ache. Before he was banished to seclusion for three years and a war party marched for the Mass Graves.

He has not served that sentence. He has no reason to think the clan’s stance has improved; if anything, his brother’s icy politeness could indicate a change for the worse. If he goes to Gusu, if he reveals himself to his brother, he may never find Wei Ying again.

“Thank you, Lan-zongzhu,” he says, bowing again, “but I would prefer to remain with Wei-zongzhu. I have some questions for him.”

Lan Xichen’s gaze returns to Wei Ying. To the young cultivators at his sides.

“I see you are making a collection,” he says.

The Jin boy rolls his eyes. One of the Wei cultivators stiffens, her hand moving to her sword. The tallest sneers. The third looks to Wei Ying, who only shrugs, twirling Chenqing between his fingers.

“I only met your Liang-gongzi a few moments ago. Am I expected to turn away guests now?”

Even the young Lan disciples look uncomfortable. Whatever is happening between Wei Ying and Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji has just somehow made it worse.

“I mean no disrespect,” he tries, but his brother shakes his head, dismissing the words.

“There is no need,” he says. “I am long familiar with Wei-zongzhu’s … popularity.”

And then he leaves, moving back up the main street with long, deliberate steps. Moments later the Lan party rises above the rooftops, flying south.

“Self-righteous jerks,” one of the Wei cultivators mutters. When Lan Wangji looks at them the tallest one is being prodded with the young woman’s sword pommel and soundly shushed. The third one is still watching Wei Ying.

“Zongzhu…”

“Later.” Wei Ying’s expression as he faces Lan Wangji is unreadable. “I will be happy to consider your questions later this evening, Liang-gongzi, but I have some errands to see to. For now, please accept the hospitality of the Yiling-Wei Sect.” he bows, and Lan Wangji hurries to bow back, somehow still surprised at being addressed with someone else’s name.

“Thank you, Wei-zongzhu,” he says, forcing the title over his teeth. Wei Ying doesn’t know him. A personal name is inappropriate in the circumstances. Still, his throat aches with unsaid words.

“A-Yuan, see to it that our guest gets a meal and a bed for the night,” Wei Ying instructs. “We’ll return in the morning.”

“Of course,” the young man says. “Just remember—”

But Wei Ying is gone, already returned to the rooftops and making his way toward the town’s main square.

The young man sighs.

“My apologies, Liang-gongzi. Wei-zongzhu has a lot on his mind at the moment. I am Wen Sizhui, and these are my sect siblings, Liu Weixin-shidi and Zhou Xiuying-shimei.”

“And I’m Jin Ling,” says the Jin cultivator, also bowing. “Jin Rulan, but no one calls me that except Dajiu when he’s annoyed.”

Lan Wangji stares; a fathomless abyss of things he doesn’t know is opening under his ribs. Wen Sizhui, and Jin Rulan. The two of them, mostly grown and standing before him with swords at their sides, when last he’d known Wen Yuan had still been young enough to be carried and the infant Jin Ling had barely passed 100 days.

How much time has he lost?

How long has Wei Ying been walking the world without him?

on to part 5

#wangxian #wangxian fic #mo dao zu shi #mo dao zu shi fic #mdzs #lan wangji #wei wuxian #role reversal au #soulmate au #turnabout verse #alex writes

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sifu-kisu · 5 years

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Интро.

Полное название Люхэбафа (ЛХБФ) звучит как "Син И Лю Хэ Ба Фа Сань Пань Ши Эр Ши".

Что можно перевести как Разум-воля, Шесть сочетаний, Восемь методов, Три Уровня, Двенадцать Позиций. Важнейшей особенностью этой системы является целостность разума и воли.

Другими словами, сфокусированное внимание сопровождает каждое движение, движения следуют за изменениями намерения воли. Внимание используется также интенсивно как и физическая сила. В результате этого, при движении в мо...

Intros.

The full name of lûhébafa (Lhbf) sounds like "son and liu hae ba fa ding stump shi eure shi".

What can be translated as mind-will, six combinations, eight methods, three levels, twelve positions. The most important feature of this system is the integrity of mind and will.

In other words, focused attention accompanies every movement, moves follow the changes of the intention of the will. Attention is also used intensively as well as physical strength. As a result, when moving at the moment of change of positions, despite the emergence and disappearing of the power inherent to them, the intention-will retains the general power of the movements of the holistic.

The Inner Theory of lhbf.

Liuhebafa is usually described as containing the "fluidity" of Taiji-Kungfu, the generation of the strength of the sinʺi, and the work of the feet like in bagua. And for this reason, sometimes they think it's a mixture of the 3 aforementioned styles.

Such a judgment comes from the inability to see and understand that there is liuhebafa and what lhbf is not. When ihuéâ asked about it, he laughed and replied: " the mixture of these arts cannot create liuhebafa ". perhaps he believed that many specialists in history tried to mix these 3 Styles, but the result was always a " Mix of 3 - x styles ", not a unique style. Many of his students and colleagues of that era had a lot of strength to explain that liuhebafa was not a mix of 3 internal styles and could not come from the taiji. Liuhebafa was conceived and developed according to the idea of " 5 HEARTS AND 9 compounds of power " and subordinate to " 6 HARMONY AND 8 Methods ", the style has grown and acquired form regardless of other styles.

At first glance liuhebafa is external movements and forms. Studying only external movements and techniques does not give an understanding of the essence of the disciple of liuhebafa. What is necessary for each practicing lhbf is to study and use the internal work of the system, which was developed before the appearance of any combat forms or methods.

Six Harmony and eight methods are much more than just a theory, they are the basic principles, they are in a high degree concentrated understanding of internal martial arts. Originally, they were designed and designed by the founder of chen xi yi, along with the applications and methods of training. Later these principles were disclosed in the form created by li dong feng. This form is called zhu ji chuan, which literally means " finding the foundation ". it is a simple way for understanding and training " 6 MATCHES AND 8 methods ".

Inner work of liuhebafa.

Level 3 (San Pan).

The concept of "3 level" can relate to different things, for example 3 body levels. But in liuhebafa " 3 level " describes the idea of " Boxing of water ", which is the way of liuhebafa conducting a match!

1. Solid condition (ice)

2. Liquid condition (water)

3. Gaseous condition (Steam)

5 Hearts (Wu Zong).

" 5 hearts " or more functional for sure - " 5 endings ", this is the essence, the heart of liuhebafa and reflects the work of the " internal mechanism ". it is not a qigong, but is related to qi, and is a defining element of liuhebafa that distinguishes Lhbf from other martial arts.

1. Point Left Palm (Lao Gong, "Palace of labor")

2. Point of the right palm (Lao Gong, "Palace of labor")

3. Point left leg (yong chuen,"babbling spring")

4. Point of the right foot (yong chuen,"babbling spring")

5. Point of head (bae hua,"a hundred meetings")

9 connections (Jiu Jie).

9 joints have a feature in the static, which is associated with the properties of the bones (Receiver / conduit of strength) and the function of the movement that is connected to the dry (Delivery / return of force). This creates the basis and is the structure of the internal work " 5 hearts ", which is known as the " internal mechanism " of liuhebafa. "9 joints" is the infrastructure of lhbf!

1. Wrist

2. Elbow

3. Shoulder (including collarbone)

4. Ankle

5. Knee

6. Thigh (including pelvic bones)

7. Cervical Spine (including back neck)

8. Thoracic Spine (including scapula)

9. Lumbar Spine Department (including sacrum)

6 MATCHES AND 8 methods are internal and external.

Internal 6 Matches (Harmony)

Internal conformity is 6 consecutive steps or levels of fasting. They are always present in any practice and premature focus on one conformity inevitably leads to the loss of the other.

1. Body and mind.

The body moves when it commands the mind. He gives a team to create a body movement, but does not fully control what the body does. As one movement moves into another, the mind learns to realize and control all the movements and micro movements of the body.

2. Mind and intention.

The mind tells the body to move, but does not indicate what purpose. It is necessary to realize that the movements should be united with intent. After that, the movement will be subordinated to the intention.

3. Intention and qi.

The intention strengthens the mind, the body begins to relax and become current. Qi follows the intention, the intention is managed by mind, it ensures the relaxation of the mind and the body, while the tension (mental and physical) Suppresses Qi.

4. Qi and spirit.

As the qi is cleaned (the flow and intensity of qi are increasing) the spirit begins to intensify. This can be described as an increase in emotional filling, which can be more destructive than creative in its development, if the spirit begins to manifest too early.

5. Spirit and movement.

When The Spirit (emotions) is manifested, it starts to manage what and how the movement will happen. Technique changes depending on the spirit, can prevail cruelty or mercy -- so emotions define movements.

6. Movement and pustotnostʹ.

The achievement of the heard means "becoming omnipotent" or in other words means to go beyond the physical, mental and spiritual way of combining them. It is necessary to make great efforts to achieve the state of "without effort". it is a humble goal, not a path of arrogance, and it becomes possible only if you follow the right way.

External (physical) six matches (Harmony).

External conformity explains the "power of 9 compounds" (Jiu ji li).

1. Torso compounds.

Three compounds of the torso are: Cervical Spine, thoracic spine and lumbar spine. These 3 compounds must move together in harmony with each other.

2. Bonding hands.

Three connections of hands are shoulder, elbow and wrist. These 3 compounds must move together by following the center to the periphery.

3. Connecting legs.

Three connections legs are thigh, knee and ankle. These 3 compounds must move together by following the center to the periphery.

4. Align hands and legs.

The movement of hands follows the movement of legs. Focused Focus!

5. Conformity of elbows and wheels.

The elbow movement follows the movement of the wheels. Power Transfer!

6. Shoulder and thigh alignment.

Shoulder movement follows the hip movement. The spine is stabilized!

When something moves, everything moves; when one stops, everything stops. All connections should start moving together and stop together, moving in harmony.

Internal eight methods.

Internal eight ways of ways lead to the transformation of the body, following the external to the inner.

1. Qi

Using intention to move qi.

2. Bones

Use skeletal structure as resistance.

3. Form

Use a pose to focus your intention.

4. Following

React and adapt according to the situation

5. Rise

Break your head to reveal your spine.

6. Recoil

Create balance in every body movement.

7. Preservation

Calm and clear natural movements.

8. Hide

The exact technique hides intentions during the fight.

External (physical) eight methods.

External eight methods relate to the directions of force. Although there are methods within the system that isolate and specify directions, they are all always present in movements to some extent and they train simultaneously as multiple forces. If one of the directions is weak or underdeveloped, it will weaken the common force.

The External eight methods are:

1. Forward

2. Back

3. Bottom up

4. Top down

5. Left

6. to the right

7. Straight

8. in circles

These 8 external methods are additionally grouped by yin-yang couples and each group is represented by one of the 5 elements of the u-ins:

1. Element Tree: forward / back

2. Element Water: up / down

3. Earth Element: left / right

4. Element of fire: Direct (containing all directions of one circle)

5. Element Metal: Circular (containing all directions in several circles)

Translation performed by yaroslav aka mao duy

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shenglingyuan · 5 years

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title: the shadows we’ll bear together (ao3) pairing: chang geng/gu yun summary: The war is not the only battlefield for a veteran like Gu Yun. modern day AU, chang geng is a physical therapist, gu yun is a military general (:3

“Big brother—”

Cao Chun Hua appears from the doorway of Chang Geng’s office, seemingly having ran as fast as he could.

His heart inexplicably jumped, having a foreboding feeling even before words left Chun Hua’s lips: “He’s here.”

___

Having left the Gu estate since ten years ago, Chang Geng has put away the thought of seeing Gu Yun anytime soon. The past decade, he has devoted himself in mastering his profession in physical therapy and making a name for himself. Several clinics have reached out to him, but he specifically went to the Capital Rehabilitation Center, where soldiers from war are sent.

It wasn’t a random choice.

Gu Yun is an army general, and at the time, the state of politics and global relations were on a tipping scale. Chang Geng had assumed that considering the flow of things, at a certain point, the country would be at war.

And it did.

In the first year of Chang Geng’s job as a licensed physical therapist, the borders were engaged in endless battles with the neighboring country. Gu Yun was assigned there, and there was no day Chang Geng worried that he might find him sent to the center injured, bloodied...or even worse, dead.

This day, it eventually happened, just as he feared. Thankfully, it was not a dead Gu Yun that came back. A decisive move where he had to put himself in the middle of the battle has ended the war, killing off dozens from their side but over thousands from the enemy. The government has praised the move, announcing the dead and the living soldiers as heroes.

For some reason, Chang Geng heard the news when Gu Yun was successfully operated on at the Capital Medical Center. It took all of him not to leave his post and run to the next building that time. When Gu Yun’s condition stabilized, only then he was able to breathe, waiting for the moment Gu Yun was transferred for rehabilitation.

___

As Chang Geng has expected the worst, he is almost not surprised to see a gauze surrounding Gu Yun’s eyes, bandages all over his body. Severe physical and possibly mental trauma, temporary deafness, semi-permanent blindness, the notes on Gu Yun’s medical record seemed to have written him a death sentence. Deafness could be fixed with hearing aids, but his blindness...it might be difficult.

Chang Geng enters the room quietly despite knowing that Gu Yun will not hear him anyway. Gu Yun sits still, only his fingers are moving, playing with his wooden bracelet that has miraculously survived the war. He seems to pause for a moment, as if sensing another presence. Chang Geng did not stare for too long, crossing the space between him and the bed, lightly lifting Gu Yun’s free arm, then writing on his palm with his fingers: “Shiliu.”

Gu Yun’s lips part in surprise. He takes a deep breath, then a soft smile paints them afterwards, “Kid, Chang Geng, it’s you?”

Chang Geng lets out a sigh of relief, his warm breath touching Gu Yun’s skin: “Yes, I’ll take care of you now.”

“Why did I send you to medical school all these years for? Of course, it’s to take care of me,” a laugh comes out from his throat, yet somehow, it doesn’t sound so humorous at all. It wasn’t the laughter Chang Geng was used to hearing in the walls of the Gu estate. It is a painful sound. “You’ve been well?”

Still has the guts to worry about somebody else.

Chang Geng shakes his head. “You’re the one who’s not well.”

“I’ll live, I’ll live,” he overturns their arms, patting the back of Chang Geng’s hand with his palm, “Death has evaded me another time.”

The way Gu Yun lets go of his arm then tells Chang Geng that he doesn’t really want to talk about it. Chang Geng doesn’t press the issue further. Though he does not show it, Chang Geng is aware how deep the wound in Gu Yun’s soul runs. It will take time to heal, but it’s alright. He’ll be there to see through it.

____

Chen Qing Xu arrives early the next morning, exactly on time for Gu Yun’s 9:45 AM check-up. Much earlier than her is Chang Geng, whom she sees to be keeping Gu Yun entertained with a routine massage for his legs.

“Chang Geng.”

“Doctor,” Chang Geng looks up, but his hands do not stop moving. A satisfied smile is on Gu Yun’s face, still unaware of the doctor’s arrival. “Is it time?”

“It is,” then after a pause, she adds, “Would you like to stay?”

“Thank you.” Chang Geng then finishes his task, letting Gu Yun know of his next schedule by signing on his palm.

“Oh? Doctor Chen is here?” Gu Yun turns his body to acknowledge her presence, “Thank you for your care so far, doctor. It’s not an understatement to say that I owe you my life.”

As he has just came from two major surgeries, the immediate focus at the moment is to recover his physical strength. Chen Qing Xu gives Chang Geng the specialized regimen for Gu Yun’s physiotherapy and exercise. Chang Geng listens diligently, his eyes focused on the notes he’s taking down while she talked. After her instructions, Chang Geng repeats a summary of everything he has been told to ensure he didn’t miss anything important.

“The hearing aid specialist should be arriving later today with Gu Yun’s device,” Chen Qing Xu adds, “That’s one less burden for you.”

“It’s good to hear,” Chang Geng smiles, throwing Gu Yun a glance, “I bet he’ll be ecstatic about this as well.”

True to Doctor Chen’s word, the hearing aid is implanted on Gu Yun that afternoon. Gu Yun seems particularly spirited, having been able to retrieve one of his senses. He immediately asks Chang Geng to update him with the news, so Chang Geng leaves him his phone with its radio tuned in to a news station.

The day goes by smoothly, Chang Geng drops by whenever he could. Seeing Gu Yun around, Chang Geng can't help but feel optimistic about his recovery.

____

The night is filled with unseen terrors, much more frightening than the uncertain battlefield. Gu Yun is now blind, but underneath his eyelids, in the supposedly serene realm of sleep, countless explosions and death haunt him. Blood is the river that flows from the hills of corpses he had killed, ash is the rain that falls from the sky they had burned. Then, a scent so familiar pulls him out from the mire of his nightmares ——

Gu Yun wakes up, breathing hard, sweat plastered all over his body. A strong hold encircles his wrist. Another hand is shaking his shoulders gently.

Out of instinct, he grabs the hands that held him, closing his fists tightly, and if his strength is in its fullest, he might have broken someone’s bone.

Thankfully, he is still weak. Only a faint sound of surprise comes from the other party.

“Chang Geng?” Gu Yun loosens his hold, but his hand remains.

“Are you alright?”

“Just a nightmare, don’t worry.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

“What am I, a kid?” he laughs it off. He can’t help but remember when it was Chang Geng who was plagued by nightmares when he was a child, and it was him who asked about them. He tries to string words together in his mind to describe his dream, however, Gu Yun finds it impossible still.

“Don’t force yourself”, Chang Geng immediately says, “I understand.”

A blanket comes up over his chest, but the hand holding his own remains. Gu Yun breathes in deeply and catches scent of that familiar odor once again. It’s a scent very unique to Chang Geng, after all.

“You are still using Dr. Chen’s calming herbs.”

“It helps me.”

“Do...you still have it?”

What it is, both of them immediately know without further explanation. If there’s anyone more versed in dealing with daily nightmares and mental warfares, it is Chang Geng. Funnily, over a decade ago, their positions were reversed. It was Gu Yun who was holding onto Chang Geng as Chang Geng would calm himself after waking up from a nightmare.

“Sometimes.”

Chang Geng only had to look in his eyes back then to tether himself to reality. It’s a pity they cannot do the same now. Gu Yun wonders if Chang Geng’s eyes could have served as his anchor, too.

He squeezes Chang Geng's hand gently. For now, his hand has got to suffice.

____

“The nightmares would be difficult to get rid of,” Chen Qing Xu says after listening to Chang Geng's report of last night's incident, “He's fresh from war. There are certain traces that no medicine or therapy can erase. You would know it best.”

Chang Geng nods solemnly. He's aware of it, but hearing it confirmed by another person makes him realize how hard he must work to ensure Gu Yun's recovery. If it isn't for Gu Yun, he himself would not have been able to resurface from the daily nightmares that drowned him in his sleep. If it isn't for Gu Yun, who knows how much shorter this life of his must have been?

They are on their way to Gu Yun's room for his physical check-up before his one-on-one counseling. Just then, a loud voice greets them several meters away from the room. They exchange a look of wonder. What on earth is happening inside?

Chang Geng hastens his steps, and upon opening the door, he finds Shen Yi sitting by Gu Yun's bedside, holding up a newspaper, and shouting out the news out loud that even the people outside can hear. A small, satisfied smile is on Gu Yun's face. In a moment, Chang Geng understands what is happening.

Dr. Chen catches up to him and arrives at an unsightly scene.

“Sir,” her cool and calm voice cuts through the small amount of pause that Shen Yi just took to catch his breath. Upon hearing her voice, he freezes mid air, his ears turning red. “You might be disturbing other rooms. Please keep your voice down.”

Shen Yi quickly stands up to apologize, “I'm really sorry, they told me Zi Xi is deaf and blind at the moment, but he insisted on getting updates on current events. I did not think this through.”

“But Teacher Shen,” Chang Geng speaks this time, “Shiliu just got installed with hearing aids the other day.”

“He what?!”

The sly Gu Yun reveals himself then, letting out a small snort, then fully laughing in the end.

“You!” Shen Yi points a finger at him, then realizing that it's pointless to reprimand or to reason with this man, he put his hand down defeatedly. He faces Dr. Chen once again, his face a mixture of regret and embarrassment and wanting-to-dissipate, “I'm really sorry.”

Gu Yun reaches for the hearing aid attached to his ear and turning up the volume. “My fault, my fault. Anyway, what's my schedule now?”

“I'll do a physical check-up first, then Chang Geng will bring you to the psychologist for your counseling session,” Chen Qing Xu answers. “Visitors aren't allowed there anymore so-”

“I'll make myself scarce now,” Shen Yi hastily adds, “Sorry for the trouble again, Doctor. See you around, Chang Geng.”

“Buy me something when you get back, okay?” Gu Yun reminds him.

“Alright, alright. Make sure you focus on your recovery.”

With that, Shen Yi makes his exit, only bringing his phone and wallet with him. Dr. Chen proceeds with Gu Yun’s physical checkup, noting nothing of particular importance.

“He can proceed to the psychologist now.”

“I’ll accompany him,” Chang Geng excuses himself, then goes to Gu Yun to assist him out of the room. He supports the small of Gu Yun’s back with his hand, and the other holds his right arm. The gesture seems almost intimate, more than that of a child and his guardian.

Without one of his senses, it is natural for some of the others to be hyperaware. At this very moment, the slight touch on his waist seems a solid hold. Gu Yun's heart stirs, genuinely touched at the concern this kid is showing him.

During the war, the two of them weren't able to maintain contact.The last message they had exchanged, Chang Geng has told him he got accepted as a physical therapist. That was five years ago. It feels like he has missed on a lot in Chang Geng's life. Gu Yun purposely did not try to reach out as often especially when the war worsened, fearing that if he dies, the sudden loss could be detrimental to the other. But now that this second life has been granted to him, he really has a lot of catching up to do.

“On your last letter,” Gu Yun starts, recalling the words he last read from Chang Geng, “You told me you were going to say something important.”

The hand on his waist slightly tenses up, “That was years ago, how come you still haven't forgotten that?”

“Why? Has it become any less important?”

Chang Geng falls into a thoughtful silence, as if weighing a ton of words in his mind. In the end, he only breathes out, “There are other things worthy of your attention. Focus on your rehabilitation first.”

“Oh? Why does it sound like you’re already blushing? Let me guess...hmm, you got yourself a girlfriend?”

“...No.”

“You did but you broke up before I returned?”

“...Not at all.”

“Chang Geng,” Gu Yun’s voice turns serious for a moment, “How long has it been? You can’t remain alone throughout your whole life. Do you really want to end up a forever bachelor like me?”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know. You’re not undesirable at all. I’m sure if you give time to date people, you’ll find yourself someone sooner or later.”

Chang Geng was actually referring to Gu Yun’s statement of him being a forever bachelor. Before he left for the war, Gu Yun has had no shortage of admirers. He did not hesitate to entertain these either way, but he never really gotten serious with anybody. Who knows, even if he’s now blind and partially-deaf, someone out there could still be charmed by his person. Nevertheless, when he was about to correct him, Gu Yun had said he was not undesirable, and a small satisfied feeling flutters in his chest.

“Well,” Gu Yun continues, “What do you think?”

“I...I don’t think you’re undesirable either.”

This time, Gu Yun is rendered speechless. He did not expect such sweet words to come out of this kid’s mouth at all. Unfortunately, he has already thrown all notions of romance out the window when he fought for the war. He only smiles haplessly.

“Of course.”

They finally arrive before the psychologist’s office. Chang Geng opens the door and leads Gu Yun inside, greeting the doctor on the table, then helping Gu Yun settle on a chair.

“Will you be alright?” he asks.

“This is not a battlefield,” Gu Yun lets out a small laugh.

Chang Geng doesn’t reply anymore, just assuringly patted his hands. They are both aware that war is not the only battlefield out there. Some battlefields are within.

____

On Gu Yun’s fifth session, while the therapist tried to guide Gu Yun through his traumatic memories, Gu Yun lost his sense of being grounded and was consumed by that darkness. The session was cut off earlier once the therapist was finally able to pull Gu Yun back to his senses. It took all of Chang Geng to not barge into the room and help him himself. Only then did Chang Geng came to realize how deep the scars in Gu Yun's soul ran.

By afternoon, Chen Qing Xu has announced Gu Yun’s vital statistics to be stable. Chang Geng, however, only had time to check on him at night. He arrives to Gu Yun already sleeping. He dares not make the slightest of noise, afraid to even disturb the air as he moves closer to his bed.

Chang Geng pulls the blanket over Gu Yun's body, covering him up until his chest. These days, Gu Yun has been living with an invisible shadow looming overhead, dimming him of the brightness he once carried. Only in his sleep does Gu Yun resemble the man Chang Geng parted ways with a decade ago — peaceful, carefree, beautiful.

His chest aches, his breathing becomes harder. A few days ago, Gu Yun asked about the letter from five years ago. Chang Geng had actually sent the follow-up letter containing the important matter he wanted to tell him the same time Gu Yun's troop had to move to the borders. Though Chang Geng tried to retrace it, it seems to have been lost in transit, never to be seen again.

“You are the most important person in my life,” he had written it in the letter from years ago. It would have been his last letter if Gu Yun had died. He is reciting it again now in a solemn whisper, words unforgotten as they came from the deepest recesses of his heart, “Your happiness is my happiness, your pain is my pain. I will live on as long as you do, Zi Xi. If I promise to hold on, can you promise to return in one piece?”

Chang Geng brings his face closer to Gu Yun’s, but not close enough to let his warm breath land on his skin. It’s a distance too close for the moment, but too far for the ten years that they’ve spent apart. Unable to control himself any longer, but still not wishing to show any form of any disrespect, Chang Geng plants a light kiss on Gu Yun’s forehead. His lips barely touched the skin, but it already felt like his heart is about to explode inside his chest.

Without another word, he leaves the room, his heart still thundering.

As Chang Geng closes the door, Gu Yun's lashes flutter, the breath he’s struggling to control finally going out of his strained lungs.

___

His predicament over Chang Geng robs Gu Yun precious hours of sleep. It seems to press on his heart, making it hard to breathe. The psychologist has told him in one of their group sessions that talking to a person one trusts the most is really important to be able to move forward from a certain issue.

That is why, when Shen Yi visits the next day, he immediately tells him to lock the door and keep his voice down.

“I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” Shen Yi sees the serious expression on his face, hurriedly pulling a chair and dragging it next to Gu Yun's bed.

“Chang Geng...he…,” he finds it hard to form his words for a while. “I think he likes me.”

“Why wouldn't he? You took care of him.”

“No, not that kind of like. It's...like like.”

It takes a while for Shen Yi to understand. “Like romantically? Are you sure you're not just overthinking about this?”

And so Gu Yun spills all his thoughts about the matter and what transpired the other night. Shen Yi's eyes became as big as a pigeon's egg at the end of his revelations.

“Now that you mention it,” Shen Yi says after he recovers from his initial surprise, “He does seem to go the extra mile for you everytime. And he never did got involved with anyone while you were on duty. I once asked him about that you know, he just said he's waiting for someone. Well...what do you think about this? Surely you should already be thinking of rejecting him?”

“... It's not like he confessed yet.”

“You didn't answer immediately. You are definitely considering his feelings, aren't you?”

“Look here, this is the first time that boy actually had affections for someone. Maybe if I talk to him, I can advise him.”

“Will you talk to him though?”

“As a responsible adult, I ought to.” Despite not being able to see, Gu Yun can feel the cold stare coming from Shen Yi's eyes. “What?”

“You're not exactly model 'responsible adult’,” Shen Yi then pats him on the back thrice, “But I believe you'll make the right choice in the end.”

___

It is quite a challenge to pretend that Gu Yun is not aware of Chang Geng's action the night before. Thankfully, he is a master of deception and so he skillfully interacts with Chang Geng just as always even though his heart is abuzz with questions.

Perhaps, this kid really had been too attached to him. This has been his running theory since last night. When he was just twenty-one and Chang Geng was fifteen, he had been Chang Geng's informal guardian of sorts. He made him live under his own roof, took care of him as much as he can. The estate is big enough for two people, and a boy with such sufferings from childhood only deserved the best treatment. When Chang Geng reached eighteen years old, he asked to move out and pursue his studies in physical therapy. It was also a great timing, as Gu Yun was promoted around this time as well. He wouldn't have time to look after him like before, and besides, they were both adults then.

Three years were all they spent together, but Gu Yun can wholeheartedly say that those were the most meaningful three years of his life. He has never cared for anyone before, and suddenly having Chang Geng in the estate was an experience.

From the age of fifteen to eighteen, teenagers would usually have an established personality already, almost growing out of their adolescent tendencies. Chang Geng has always been more mature than his age, which made Gu Yun's job a lot easier. Though acting spoiled at certain times, Chang Geng was very reliable and responsible. Gu Yun could say that he has grown to be a fine, young man, whom with his jade-like features, would probably be a hit to the waiting market.

But never in those three years did he notice anything about what Chang Geng spoke of last night. When he was acting spoiled, was that his way of asking for affection? Everytime he tried to cook food for him, assisting him when he came home, was that a way to make Gu Yun know that he cares?

Chang Geng is currently massaging his hands, loosening out the strained joints and muscles, explaining to Gu Yun his schedule for the day. But words seem to fly over Gu Yun's head, completely distracted by his own thoughts.

The hands that held his, kneading gently, seems to contain a certain tenderness and warmth that he has never noticed before — no, that is wrong. Looking back, these have always been in Chang Geng's touch, on how he holds and guides him, it's just that at this moment, Gu Yun starts to regard it under a different light.

He suddenly retracts his hand, startled at his own realizations.

Chang Geng was surprised, “Have I hurt you?”

“Ah…no, no…, I just…” To cover up his sudden action, he reaches at his back instead, “...felt something itchy.”

“Your psychiatrist said the two of you will try a gentler approach when you're feeling well enough for a repeat session, so that you can avoid having the same reaction as before,” Chang Geng then pauses, as if not knowing the right words to say. Then after a while, he continues, “I should have been there immediately.”

Though he cannot see, Gu Yun can imagine Chang Geng's frustration at how his voice tightened. Suddenly worried, he reaches out towards Chang Geng, his hand successfully landing a reassuring squeeze on his arm.

“Hey, don't frown. I know you are frowning right now. Last time isn't as bad as you think, don't think too much about me. I know you said you will take care of me, but do take care of yourself too. You know what happens when you worry too much.”

“There is only you to worry about.”

Though the voice is low, Gu Yun still catches his words. He gets reminded of the task that he still needs to do.

With his hand still on his arm, he says, “When you asked if I can promise to return in one piece, just what exactly did you mean by that?”

He feels Chang Geng's muscles beneath his hand tense up. Chang Geng tries to pull away, but he secures his hold tightly.

“Shiliu…”

“Can't say what you want to say now that I'm awake?”

Chang Geng doesn't speak, but he hears his breath getting heavier.

“Look, I'm not here to scold you,” Gu Yun continues, “I just need to know what you're thinking. What you're feeling. Perhaps I can help you sort them out.”

“Sort it out?” Chang Geng lets out a low laugh, “You think I'm confused?”

“Your heart is big, you still have so much love to give. I'm afraid you're pouring it all out to the wrong person.”

“You'll never be the wrong person to me,” Chang Geng then pulls away, successfully this time, “It's alright if you don't return my feelings, I never expected you to. Just…,” Stop making me think that I'm just hung up on some childhood fantasy, I'm not a kid anymore, Chang Geng almost continues this sentence, but he feels it is too brash, so he says instead, “Let's not talk about this anymore.”

Without waiting for a reply, he stands up and walk towards the door. As his hand is about to reach for the doorknob, he is stopped by Gu Yun's voice.

“Chang Geng,” he says, “I just want you to make the smart choice. You're worth more than a blind war veteran.”

Chang Geng stares at him helplessly. Why won't you understand? You will always be more to me, more than anyone else.

______

Chang Geng did not come the next day, nor the day after that. His substitute, Chun Hua, isn't any less skilled, but Chang Geng's sudden absence made Gu Yun realize how much he has been used to having him around. The massage is another problem though, as only Chang Geng has the mastery of handling Gu Yun when it comes to this. Anyone else would just fail as Gu Yun is incredibly ticklish.

“Did Chang Geng go to work today?” he asks Chun Hua just after they give up on having a proper massage session.

“He did, but he's occupied with other patients.”

“Those are not his patients, though,” Gu Yun mutters with a hint of annoyance. “Aren't they?”

“They are, actually. Big brother is responsible for many of the patients here. You're supposed to be assigned to a different physical therapist, but big brother insisted.”

Gu Yun pauses, thinking about the ropes Chang Geng had to pull to arrange his schedule based on his own preference. It seems that Chang Geng never really holds back when it comes him.

“He did, huh.”

After his individual session with the psychiatrist, it is Shen Yi that awaits for him in his room. Though he hasn't spoken yet, Gu Yun can practically feel the excitement he is emitting. Shen Yi helps him sit down first before getting into the topic.

“So? Did you talk to him already?”

“I did...I think.”

“You think? What happened? What did he say?”

“He said it doesn't matter if I don't return his feelings. Ji Ping, I've never dealt with things like this before.” Gu Yun's sigh seems to carry a heavy rain that just won't fall. “How do you reject someone who's already accepted he's rejected?”

“You know, Zi Xi, rejecting is as easy as saying 'I don't like you.’ Have you said these words to Chang Geng?”

“...No?”

“Ah, I may not be the most experienced person around here when it comes to relationships, but I've known you for more than half your life. I feel like a part of you actually considers entertaining his feelings that's why you can't just outright reject him.”

“What do you know?”

Words suddenly escape the usually tactful Gu Yun. Consider Chang Geng's feelings? Is that really possible? Gu Yun is also human despite being the fearless general they frame him to be. He's a human with a heart that can be moved by care and affection. Growing up mostly alone after the death of his parents, even with the care of his older cousin until he was of legal age, Gu Yun never really had someone to take care of him. Well, there was Shen Yi, but it was more of a brotherly bond between the two of them.

When Chang Geng started living in the estate, instead of being cared for, somehow, it was Chang Geng that actually showed care for him. Even after their ten years of separation, Chang Geng took care of him like they're still living together.

Just how many people in the world are lucky enough to have someone waiting for them for so long? Just how many people are immune to such affection?

“But...maybe you're right,” he says after a long moment of thinking, much to Shen Yi's surprise.

Gu Yun is not one of them.

“Maybe I'm actually considering it.”

_____

Chang Geng's cold war with Gu Yun only lasts for three days. On the fourth day, it is him who wakes Gu Yun up for his daily routine. Even though the tenderness of his touch is still there, there seems to grow a distance between the two of them.

“Chun Hua tells me there's no way he can hold you down while giving you a massage,” he explains, “I was worried you're not getting the proper attention.”

“Only you can be so attentive of me anyway,” Gu Yun says, lying on his stomach, no trace of malice or playfulness woven into his words.

However, Chang Geng has still his guards up. “Shiliu...please, don't play with me.”

At this moment, Chang Geng is working on Gu Yun's lower limbs, kneading his weakened muscles and joints.

“But I'm not,” Gu Yun whispers, but his voice is enough for Chang Geng to hear.

Suddenly, the hands that held his limbs are no more. Gu Yun turns his body at the absence of his touch, afraid that he has ran away again.

“Chang Geng?” A heavy breathing to his side tells him that he's still around.

“Enough. You're always playing tricks on me.”

“You're not a kid anymore, Chang Geng. Why would I play tricks on you like I used to, hm?”

“Just the other day, you said I should think things through,” his voice is low, devoid of all expectations, “That I should sort my feelings out.”

“Perhaps, I did the same thing. Think things through. Sort my feelings out,” Gu Yun smiles, reaching out his hand in the air, “Come here, will you?”

A palpable sense of hesitation hung in the air, but not long after, Chang Geng's footsteps sound on the floor - one, two - he grabs Gu Yun's hand, carefully enveloping it with his own.

Chang Geng's palms have always been warm, the type of warmth Gu Yun has never been able to find elsewhere. It isn't the warmth that his parents used to give him, nor that which he received from his older cousin's family. Somehow, it feels like a warmth that Chang Geng has especially reserved for him alone. For no matter how far, no matter how long, as long as Gu Yun returned, there will always be this pair of hands that he can go back home to.

“You are also the most important person in my life,” Gu Yun says earnestly, mirroring the words Chang Geng has told him that night, “This, I realize now. I may have not returned in one piece, and I don't think I can be whole again, but I'm here. As long as I breathe, I will be right beside you. We both have our own shadows, but it should be easier facing them together, right? Will you still promise to hold on?”

Never in Chang Geng's existence, not even in his dreams, did he ever think that he'll hear these words from Gu Yun's mouth himself. It feels like a hallucination brought upon by his more than a decade's worth of feeling. He tightens his hands around Gu Yun's, making sure that this is all a reality.

This can't be a dream either way, for he only ever had nightmares. But for once, Chang Geng thinks he is living in a sweet dream.

“Do you mean that?” his voice is determined, though it trembles. It feels like his heart is about to burst. Please don't wake me up.

Gu Yun pulls Chang Geng down, aimlessly reaching for his face. His thumb lands right on the edge of his lips, vaguely recognizing that a smile dances on them.

“Every word,” Gu Yun smiles as well, “How about you? You said you'll take care of me. Not going to take that back?”

Whether Gu Yun came back unscathed or missing a few limbs, Chang Geng thinks it would have never mattered. As long as this person returned to him with a beating heart, he will never think of letting go.

Both of Gu Yun, and himself.

“Not ever.”

#changgu #sha po lang #i write sometimes

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