#and it’s for wwx. the blood comes through and stains him wwx’s colour

[besanii]

Hi! Am rereading your shattered mirrors verse and I love it so much. Are we going to get the scene in which WWX explains everything that’s happened to him (with the poison) etc to LWJ after they meet wen yuan?? I’m dying for the angst but also fluff and comfort 🥺🥺🥺

@lurkingscientist asked:

I can’t wait to hear about all the sad things wwx experienced!!! :D my “stabby stabby stab stab stab” is feeling slightly neglected

Shattered Mirrors #61

“I haven’t told you everything.”

In the thirteen years Wei Wuxian had been gone, Lan Wangji searched desperately for every scrap of information he could get his hands on, from every channel he could access, in hopes of finding him. Or finding out what had happened to him. What he could find was piecemeal at best and unreliable at worst, often conflicting depending on the source. The result was him, driven mad by desperation and grief, chasing ghosts in the shadows until he could no longer tell what was real.

Even now, with Wei Wuxian back at his side these last two years, happy and content and safe, he still does not have a clear picture of what had happened during the war. If he’s being honest, he’s afraid to ask, and even more afraid to know. He tells himself it’s enough just to have Wei Wuxian by his side again. He doesn’t need to know, if Wei Wuxian does not want to share.

So Wei Wuxian’s confession punches the air from his lungs and he feels in its wake, his hands trembling where they’re entwined. Wei Wuxian watches him with the same care one would give to a startled animal ready to flee.

“That is,” he amends hesitantly, “if you wish to know.”

Lan Wangji inhales, and exhales again, with a shudder. Squares his shoulders. Looks him in the eye.

“Yes,” he says. “I do.”

It is Wei Wuxian’s turn to take a deep breath, the tentative little smile on his lips giving way to steely resolve. On his other side, Wen Yuan kneels by the bed, wordlessly offering his unwavering support. Despite all this, it takes Wei Wuxian some time to find the right words to convey the enormity of what he is about to disclose.

“I don’t know where to begin,” he admits with a shaky laugh, looking down at their joined hands. “I suppose you already know how Yunmeng fell.”

Lan Wangji nods. He has heard scattered details, enough to know that there had been a traitor in their midst, someone who had fed false information through their intelligence network while Wei Wuxian had been in Gusu. They had managed to secure Yunping, but sustained heavy losses that severely weakened their defences. The traitor had been found, but by then the Qishan Wen army was already at their doorstep, ten thousand strong, and they had no way out.

“We evacuated as many civilians as we could. Jiang Cheng, Jiang-wang and Yu-wanghou stayed behind to defend the city,” he says. His eyes and voice are distant, lost in his memories. “I took Shijie and we escaped via the lakes, with the rest of the civilians. Our priority was to get to Yunping, and then to Lanling. Shijie was engaged to Jin Zixuan, so they would definitely come to our aid—or at the very least, they would keep her safe while I gathered reinforcements.

“They were there,” he continues, still in that far-off voice. “Wen Chao and his men. They had split their forces to ambush us while we were defenceless. Our boats were burned, our people drowned—we in Yunmeng are strong swimmers, but even the strongest swimmers cannot survive when arrows rain down from the sky.”

He shivers with his next breath, but his voice is steady.

“I entrusted Shijie to my lieutenant, instructed them to use one of the overturned boats to cover their escape, while I distracted Wen Chao.” He smiles, but it’s stark and without humour. “We’ve had…altercations in the past, so I knew I would be an adequate distraction. I held him off for as long as I could, kept his attention on me. But I was only one person, and he had an army.”

The reports that had come out of Yunmeng around that time—the ones Lan Xichen had allowed him to read while recovering from his punishment, at least—had painted a picture so bleak, so devastating that he had wept. The lakes of Yunmeng, once teeming with colour and life, stained red with blood over the course of one night; and Lotus Pier, its seat of power, that had once risen from the depths of the lakes like a mirage, burned to ash. He had been back to the ruins of Lotus Pier in the intervening years as it was slowly rebuilt after the war—Gusu had offered aid wherever possible, in both money and manpower, as well as political support for the Yu family of Meishan, the maiden family of Queen Yu Ziyuan, who had been installed as stewards in the absence of the ruling family—but the shadows of war still haunts its streets and darkens its waters even now.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes fall closed and his fingers tighten around Lan Wangji’s.

“There’s a stronghold in Yiling,” he says. “Some call it the Burial Mounds, or the Mass Grave. Beneath the fortress, there’s an extensive network of cells that run beneath the mountains. That’s where they keep their highest security prisoners, the ones who get…special treatment.”

There is no need to ask what ‘special’ means, so Lan Wangji stays silent. His blood, however, runs cold—as cold as Wei Wuxian’s voice as he continues his narrative, detached.

“Wen Chao had a special—” that word again, spoken with such venom that it curdles in Lan Wangji’s stomach and burns his throat, “cell prepared. More a cage, really. Every second shichen, it would be submerged in water up to the neck, and stay there for another shichen until it was raised again. In the interim, the prisoner would be left soaking wet in the cold, damp cell.”

The memory of Wei Wuxian at the water’s edge, the frantic terror on his face as he struggles to breathe despite not having come into contact with it, the frailty, the susceptibility to cold and illness—it is all starting to fall into place, one horrifying piece at a time. But Wei Wuxian is not finished.

“There were beatings, of course.” A sudden, fierce anger wraps around Lan Wangji’s heart at the matter-of-fact way in which he says it. “Wen Chao always did have a sadistic streak. He liked to hang people up by the arms and have them whipped, or burned, or flogged. Sometimes he’d leave them there for more than a day, weighed down at the ankles, blindfolded, while they tortured others around them.”

A hand extricates itself from Lan Wangji’s death grip and peels back the edge of a sleeve to reveal the scars along his arms. Dozens of them, some longer and thicker, others as thin and fine as thread, criss-cross along the pale flesh. As he traces quivering fingers along the skin, Lan Wangji feels each cut, each slice, on his heart. Then Wei Wuxian turns his hand over, revealing a large, pale scar on the inside of his wrist, and a matching on on the other, too precise to be self-inflicted. He inhales sharply in realisation.

“Your hands—” he chokes, eyes wide as he stares at the scars. “He didn’t—”

Wei Wuxian lets the sleeves fall back down to cover the scars.

“If you fight back,” he explains woodenly, “they cut the tendons in your wrists and ankles. They’ll send a doctor to look over your injuries, of course. There is no benefit, no value, in a dead prisoner of war. That’s how I met Wen Qing and her brother, Wen Ning.”

“My aunt and uncle,” Wen Yuan, who has been silent until now, explains. Lan Wangji had almost forgotten his presence. He smiles sadly. “They were taken by my great-uncle as hostages to ensure our branch of the family supported the war effort, and served as doctors on the front lines.”

Wei Wuxian’s lips curl into a smile—not the harsh, bitter ones from before, but softer, tinged with grief.

“They took care of me,” he says. “Wen Qing was the best doctor in all of Qishan. There was no illness she could not cure, no injury she could not fix. And Wen Ning…Wen Ning was the kindest person I have ever met. Too kind, too gentle for war. They did their best to help me—slipped me medicines and food whenever they could, diverted Wen Chao’s attentions away from me when it got too much.”

His voice wavers and breaks.

“They died trying to get me out,” he says hoarsely. “First Wen Ning, then Wen Qing. And I couldn’t—I couldn’t do anything to save them—”

Lan Wangji gathers him into his arms, crushes him against his chest as he cries out in anguish, his body wracked with sobs. His own eyes are hot, and he sees Wen Yuan’s are also bright with unshed tears when their gazes meet over Wei Wuxian’s head. They stay like this until he quietens, curled in Lan Wangji’s embrace, eyes hollow and wrung out. Lan Wangji is about to suggest that they continue this another day when Wei Wuxian rouses himself with a shaky breath, and continues.

“They killed Wen Ning in front of me,” he says. “And then they forced Wen Qing to take the same deadly poison they had been using to experiment with on us—”

“Qianji poison,” Lan Wangji says before he can stop himself. Both Wen Yuan and Wei Wuxian turn to him in shock. He lowers his eyes. “You fell ill after your performance at Caiyun Pavilion,” he tells Wei Wuxian. “I had a physician brought in to see you.”

He is careful to leave out Mo Xuanyu and Madam Zhang’s involvement, but Wei Wuxian is not fooled. But rather than get angry, as they had feared, he only shakes his head and laughs.

“I should have guessed,” he says. “They always liked to make a fuss.”

“They care about you,” Lan Wangji chides him gently. “And I am glad they told me, so I was better prepared to take care of you like I promised.”

This time when Wei Wuxian turns into the cradle of his arms, it is out of exhaustion, as if a great weight has been lifted from his chest, and his eyes drift closed as Lan Wangji strokes his hair with gentle motions. There is still more to the story, Lan Wangji knows—and there are questions burning in his mind. But he feels the sag of Wei Wuxian’s body against his, the heaviness of his breath, and cannot bring himself to press him further. They have time. After a moment of silence, when Lan Wangji thinks him asleep, he stirs.

“I’m tired,” he murmurs. “So tired.”

“You’ve done well, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji reminds him. “Get some rest.”

Wen Yuan excuses himself as Wei Wuxian hums and nestles deeper into his arms. Lan Wangji nods at him gratefully and watches him leave, keeping his movements quiet so as to not disturb Wei Wuxian’s rest.

“I think I’ll close my eyes for a while,” Wei Wuxian agrees, his words already starting to slur. “I just need…a little break.”

Lan Wangji presses a light kiss on his forehead.

“Take all the time you need,” he says. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

--

master post in sidebar!

--

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#dreamaholicsanonymous #lurkingscientist #asks #shattered mirrors fic #shattered mirrors au #lan wangji #wei wuxian #mdzs #wangxian #王爷机 X 花魁羡 #prince!lwj #courtesan!wwx #🥢 #🔪🔪🔪🔪 #torture mention cw #my writing

[grapefruitsketches]

Untamed Spring Fest 2020 - Day 5: Fresh

1469 Words

Yunmeng Siblings, mostly WWX & JYL; very minor injury

Wei Wuxian had always struggled to keep his clothes fresh and clean, but had understood from a young age to hide any blemish as best he could. A child alone on the streets could be taken for a kid exploring while his parents shopped. But a child who had clearly not been washed or bathed in weeks would not even be allowed near the scrap piles, never mind close enough to the lotus seed booths to sneak a handful every once in a while.

Once he was taken to Lotus Pier, though, he had needed to learn a whole new kind of camouflage.

His first discovery was pure luck. He had been so taken by the beautiful colours and robes of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect that he had somehow forgotten that even these seemingly magical robes could fall victim to the most ordinary of mistakes.

After he had spent hours struggling through his first attempts at writing, Jiang Yanli had laughed when Wei Wuxian had emerged from his and Jiang Cheng’s room. There were fresh black marks of ink on Wei Wuxian’s arms, hands, and, mysteriously, nose.

She tutted as she wheeled her new brother back into his room and took his brand new outer robes off of him. She inspected the sleeves. “You’re lucky you were wearing dark colours today, or else I don’t think there would have been any hope of getting it out.”

Wei Wuxian, meanwhile, had begun scrubbing dutifully at his arms and face, “Jiejie, how do you do it? I’ve seen you copy pages and pages of texts wearing all kinds of light colours, and I’ve never seen any ink on you.”

Jiang Yanli booped Wei Wuxian right on the black spot on his nose, “I am very careful and patient. And,” She picked up Wei Wuxian’s last page of sloppy characters, the thick globs of ink still shining even in the fading evening light, “I do this.” She blew gently over the ink. It was still far too thick for it to dry with only a breath, but a couple of spots faded to a more promising almost-matte. She smiled, handing the page to Wei Ying now that he had dried his cleaner, though not completely unmarked, hands. “You try.” She said.

Wei Wuxian took the page and blew over it, persistent, as his sister scrubbed at his robes. He was nearly out of breath by the time he was satisfied that the page was dry, but Jiang Yanli was still working out some stains on the lighter grey detailing of his sleeves. He heard her huff with the effort and saw her hands redden with their prolonged submersion in water as she scrubbed.

He silently vowed to be more careful, to make sure his new jiejie would never have to work this hard on his behalf again.

He asked for darker outer robes the very next day. Jiang Fengmian was excited to finally hear an earnest request from his best friends’ - now, his - son. He eagerly obliged, without pausing to wonder what motivated the sudden wardrobe change.

--

“Oh, A-Xian!” Jiang Yanli exclaimed at the sight of Wei Wuxian, holding his side as he limped away from the drill ground one night.

A blubbering Jiang Cheng hovered close behind, “I-I didn’t mean to,” he wailed, “I just…”

Wei Wuxian had gotten distracted when an older disciple had used some sort of talisman to swipe his opponent’s legs out from under him. He had wondered whether it might be possible to achieve something like that without a talisman on hand. Jiang Cheng hadn’t noticed that his brother’s attention had been drawn elsewhere until it was too late to stop his swing. 

Wei Wuxian gave his brother a weak punch, “Don’t be modest. You should have seen him, Jiejie, I tried to dodge left, I tried to dodge right,” he mimed a dodge and lost his grin for only a split second as a sharp pain shot up his side, “but Jiang Cheng was everywhere I turned!” Even though he and Jiang Cheng had only just started sword training, Wei Wuxian had already earned an impressive reputation. He wasn’t going to take this victory away from his brother. A win was a win. It was Wei Wuxian’s own fault that he had let himself get distracted.

“Hmmpf. That’s not exactly how I would describe it.” Madam Yu interjected, appearing seemingly from nowhere behind them. She was trailed, as always, by her two maids, “You should be working harder, Jiang Cheng, if you hope to uphold the honour of our family’s name. You can’t cry every time your sword hits something. Though at this rate, we won’t have to worry about that happening too often.” With a whoosh of elegant silks, she passed the three siblings by, but not before looking Wei Wuxian up and down. Her gaze lingered on the bright red staining Wei Wuxian’s pale purple, almost white underclothes, just visible through the cut in his outer robes. She sneered and added, “Clean up this mess if you hope to join us for dinner. And do it yourself. Yanli is your superior, not your servant.”

Wei Wuxian bowed as Madam Yu left, not daring to wince as the movement stretched his side uncomfortably.

Once she was out of sight, Wei Wuxian stumbled and Jiang Cheng’s wails intensified. Jiang Yanli came around behind them, sandwiching herself in between and looping her arms in theirs, easily supporting them both. “Come on,” she said, leading them to Wei Wuxian’s room, “Let’s get you two ready.”

Their sister’s kind words eased the pain and helped clear the tears away, but she frowned at the stained underclothes Wei Wuxian had thrown on his bed after he had changed. “I don’t know if I can get this out…” she sighed. Wei Wuxian sat up straight in concern - Jiang Cheng hissed as the movement ruined his attempt to wrap the large, but shallow, wound. Wei Wuxian couldn’t help it though. Jiang Fengmian had given him these clothes just this Spring.

“Maybe…” Jiang Yanli muttered to herself as she flipped the garment inside out to inspect it. She gasped, “A-Xian! What is this?” she held up the underclothes to show faint brown-red lines crossing the inside of its back.

Wei Wuxian peered at it before realization dawned, “Ah! That’s nothing to worry about. Jiang Cheng and I went swimming a few days ago and I scraped my back against a dock on our way out. They’re just some scratches though - I must have gotten dressed too quickly after that.” It really hadn’t hurt, he’d barely noticed when it had happened. But still. He should have listened to Madam Yu. He didn’t like seeing Yanli’s frown of concern as she traced the rust coloured lines. He looked regretfully at the material. Between the lines criss crossing the back, and the mess today’s sparring had left on the side, the clothes were almost unrecognizable as part of the Yunmeng Jiang-purple outfit Jiang Fengmian had proudly gifted him.

“Hmm,” was the only answer his sister gave.

He sighed, slumping, “Is there no saving them?”

“Stay still!” Jiang Cheng tried to hold Wei Wuxian in place, still trying to get the bandages on, “You sound more concerned about the stupid clothes than about your injury!”

“A-Cheng’s right, you should take care of yourself first, A-Xian,” but Jiang Yanli didn’t fail to see the look of dismay on Wei Wuxian’s face. She smiled sadly as she spread the ruined clothes out on the table, taking a closer look, “the hole isn’t too bad, all things considered. It could easily be mended,” she mused, “but I don’t think the blood will come out. Unless…” She looked at Wei Wuxian doubtfully, “We could try getting it dyed?”

Wei Wuxian looked up, hopeful, “Do you think red would work?” Even if the colours of this sect were above him, he could at least preserve the gifts he’d been given. And if my clothes are red, Jiejie won’t be able to see the scrapes she doesn’t have to know about.

--

A few weeks later, Madam Yu was horrified to see, standing out starkly against a see of purples and blues, a dark navy and red shape that was Wei Wuxian, parading confidently amongst his peers. Later that day, she would wonder loudly to her maids why this child insisted on being such an embarrassment to the sect. She watched as he strutted about, showing off his new clothes to the small but growing fanbase he and Jiang Cheng had among the younger disciples. She couldn’t wait until it was time to send him off to Cloud Recesses. Maybe after some time in white he wouldn’t be so ungrateful as to find purples so below him.

#untamed spring fest #the untamed #mdzs #yunmeng siblings #wei wuxian #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #partially inspired by a post I now can't find that suggested that wwx wears dark colours bc it hides blood well #my writing

[satonthelotuspier]

ooooh could we get 2 or 5 maybe for sangyu pretty pls?

Thank you so much for the prompt, Anon. I think I picked out the right prompt list for this, if not get back in touch and I’ll try again. Either way I hope you enjoy :)

I was a little worried about this; because we don’t get any MXY in canon I’m never really sure how to characterise him. I have put him in the Dreams AU but he has a very specific purpose there which dictates his character. For this AU I’ve decided to go with a more scholarly MXY - logic being he did work out how to use WWX’s demonic sacrificing curse from his papers, this also meant the no 5 prompt worked well with his personality.

In this verse canon events didn’t happen as you’ll see from most people being alive. JGS died early and JZX took his place as Sect Leader and was much better to his half brother, probably with JYL’s influence. MXY (now JXY) is very happy with his life at Koi tower, but of course there’s just that one thing missing...

He woke up to the beam of sunlight shining in through the library window and onto his face.

Jin Xuanyu blinked several times and rubbed at his face; then glanced down at his ink stained hands. He hoped he hadn’t fallen asleep on wet ink too; it would take so long to scrub off and he really needed to look his best today.

Wait. Today. It was today.

He had to go and get cleaned up quickly, what if he arrived and he still looked like he’d fallen asleep at his desk in the library? Despite the fact that was what had actually happened.

He rushed towards the door, but halfway he remembered something and had to return to pick up the paper he had been working on last night.

He folded in carefully and tucked it safely into his robes then ran to his rooms. He encountered his sister-in-law and Sect Leader’s wife Jiang Yanli on the way, with his nephew Jin Ling. He skidded to a halt and offered her his respects.

She chatted briefly but she could also see he was in a great rush and as she was ever considerate she didn’t keep him long; Jin Ling offered the barest respects required, purely because his mother was there.

His nephew held him in low regard due to the fact he pursued a mainly scholarly path of cultivation; never having a strong aptitude for a more martial route, which Jin Ling did respect. He was boring in his nephew’s eyes; something he could live with. Probably it wasn’t helped that he was an awkward age; neither the same age as Jin Ling’s parents, therefore due more respect, nor the same age as Jin Ling and his peers, therefore a potential playmate.

He excused himself once they’d finished and rushed on.

Once back in his own house he arranged to have a bath drawn and paid careful attention to scrubbing. He had smeared ink on his cheek while he slept which took some cleaning up, the same went for that covering his fingers. The ink in his nail beds was just something he’d have to live with; it was all the result of scholarly pursuits, like a sword wielder would develop callouses on their hands.

Once clean, unusually for him, he paid careful attention to his appearance. He could normally be found haunting the library and music rooms of Koi Tower in his unremarkable black robes, hair caught up in a careless ponytail. Today he chose golden robes embroidered with ivory coloured peonies to match his clan’s colours and emblems.

He had a servant help him braid some golden beads through his hair too; the braids a bow to the styles the Nie clan were frequently seen to wear in their hair.

He checked the final effect and barely recognised himself. He’d never been strikingly handsome like his brother; he had many of his mother’s features which softened what he had inherited from his Jin blood into a more gentle attractiveness. Secretly he was glad that he didn’t look much like his “father”.

While people assumed he should be thankful to Jin Guangshan, because he’d done the bare minimum as a father figure and brought a young Mo Xuanyu to Koi Tower to study cultivation before he died, Jin Xuanyu was much more thankful to his brother Jin Zixuan and his brother’s wife Jiang Yanli, who had done much more to make him welcome, find the correct path to cultivation for a young man who had shown no talent for marital pursuits and utilized his natural intelligence and tendency to studiousness to both progress and contribute to his clan as one of Jin Zixuan’s advisors.

He dismissed the unusually elegant looking figure in the glass and made his way to Jin Zixuan’s side so they could prepare to welcome the arrival of the other clans to the discussion conference Koi Tower was hosting.

It was a tiring day, especially for someone who was more comfortable surrounded by book and scrolls, musical instruments and painting materials than actual people.

He was pleased to see Jiang Yanli’s adopted brother Wei Wuxian here with his husband Lan Wangji; Wei Wuxian had always had a lot of time for Jin Xuanyu, they had often talked and philosophised together long into the night in the past. They both had a skill for the dizi too and he hoped he might find time to convince Wei Wuxian to share more of his expertise.

But there was really only one person he was desperate to see today. And then the Nies arrived and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

Nie Huaisang was with his brother, Sect Leader Nie Mingjue, and really Jin Xuanyu hadn’t considered what he’d do if the former had decided not to attend; that thought had never occurred to him, but he was extremely thankful it hadn’t turned out like that, otherwise all the effort he’d spent convincing himself and working himself up to making his confession would have been wasted.

Nie Huaisang had also been one of the few people to spend time and talk with Jin Xuanyu over the years, and while he would always be thankful to the others, it was Nie Huaisang he had given his heart to. Not that the other man was aware. Yet.

Nie Huaisang stood at his brother’s shoulder, his delicately painted fan open and fluttering rhythmically. As ever he was sumptuously dressed with his hair caught up in an intricate design full of braids, his delicate features only just avoiding being set into a look of pure boredom.

The Jins moved forward to greet the Nies and Jin Xuanyu had to work hard to not drift off and just spend the time staring at Nie Huaisang instead of assisting his brother in his duties as host.

***

It was after the feast that evening had ended and before Jin Xuanyu had intended to find Nie Huaisang when he came across him talking with Wei Wuxian. He was loathe to insert himself into the conversation but Nie Huaisang noticed him walking past and waved him over.

“A-Yu will know if there’s any shenanigans to be gotten into while the dull people attend the discussion conference tomorrow” Wei Wuxian patted him on the shoulder. They had both called him A-Yu from being a young boy when he had first been brought to Koi Tower, and, except in formal situations, neither of them had ever stopped.

“Well, there is a festival in a nearby town. I hear they’re showcasing several brewers from the countryside as well as local taverns wares. You may enjoy that” he said and Wei Wuxian’s eyes did indeed flash in interest, “Or the fishing is particularly good this time of year in the local rivers”

“Well I think a little visit to the festival might be just what we need to distract us from the tedium”

“Wei-xiong, I think you might be right” there was a happy grin on Nie Huaisang’s face, “A-Yu, you’ll come with us too?”

Whilst Wei Wuxian referring to him as A-Yu was a slight annoyance, it was a blow to hear it from the object of his feelings. Was it just habit or did the other really still see him as a child? He was twenty-five now; he hadn’t been a child for a long time.

“Zixuan-ge may have need of me, I wouldn’t dare put him to such inconvenience” although he really would like to attend the festival with these two troublemakers he was aware of his responsibilities.

“Rubbish, the Peacock can do without you for a day, I’ll go agree it with him now. I need to find my husband anyway, lets meet tomorrow just before midday. You’re coming too, don’t forget, A-Yu” and Wei Wuxian left with a wave.

Jin Xuanyu could feel his breath stick in his chest again; he had been handed the perfect opportunity now he had been left alone with Nie Huaisang, dared he actually take it?

“It would be nice to have someone care for you like Wei-xiong and Lan er-gongzi do” there was soft trace of longing in Nie Huaisang’s voice, and being handed an opening like that how could he justify not making his confession?

“Nie Huaisang, I can give you a list of how you make me feel...” he reached into his robes and pulled out the folded paper he had worked on yesterday, holding it out.

Nie Huaisang stared at him in complete confusion, then disbelief. He reached out to take the paper from Jin Xuanyu’s shaking hands, a look of amusement finally settling on his delicate face.

If Nie Huaisang laughed at him he might actually just die here and now.

“Why don’t you try using your words, instead?” Nie Huaisang told him instead and he was about to point out the words he wanted to use were on the paper the other now held in his hand, but he realised at the last moment what he meant.

“Oh. I see. I like you, Nie Huaisang, I’m in love with you”

#Sangyu #nie huaisang #mo xuanyu #confession #mdzs #mdzs fic #mdzs fanfic #shay's stuff #prompts