#so I’m releasing my cruelty on ranwan

[evehere]

eve, hi! your 2ha-qws au is so so good! mo ran's regret and his thoughts of the underworld ("Maybe then he’d reach the underworld mostly intact, and he wouldn’t scare Chu Wanning too much when he saw him." my heart) are amazing. cwn's not even there and you can really feel based on mr's thoughts how much he sacrificed for mr. it's heartbreaking. i'm really happy you did a little fic with your idea. if you ever do more, i'll just have to sit and wait excitedly!

Hi, Lu! I’m glad you liked my qws-au! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟI’m testing it out, since I’m writing something larger, but I couldn’t resist to writing it. Like, the busier I am in rl, the more inspiration I get OvO It has come to the point it has a more complete outline and a title (which means, unfortunately for my schedule, that I’m going to write this, albeit slower and in shorter segments).

I have named it “Yearning unwittingly breaks the willow branch” (无令长相思，折断杨柳枝), the phrase the fox demon tells Mo Ran when he hands him the box with Jiangui. Let’s leave it at yearning willow for short 😂

Willow branches in Chinese poetry, particularly broken ones, means “regretful parting”. It basically comes to “to yearn for the wrong person will lead to bitter partings”, which is 2ha and this fic summed up in 10 neat characters XD

I have a second chapter written, which I’ll probably post here this weekend, and it has enough length now (for my own standards) to be posted to ao3, which I’ll do this weekend as well.

I can’t stress enough how thankful I am for the interest you and other readers have taken into this fic! It’s really encouraging to find people that like what you write, so you have my eternal gratitude °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

As thanks, I offer you a ficlet. I hope you like it!

Yearning willow masterpost here 🍃

Mo Ran 2.0 (1)

“Who are you?”

“What do you mean, Wanning?” Mo Ran laughed, though his voice was constricted under the weight of his husband.

If anyone entered Honglian House now, they’d be taken aback by the sight. Or rather, they’d start preparing for the funeral of the marquis’ husband.

Mo Ran was lying on his back on the bed, his arms pinned tightly at his sides by Chu Wanning’s legs. Said man was striding his abdomen, a hand clutching a handful of Mo Ran’s hair, and the other one pressing a sharp dagger in his neck.

But Chu Wanning didn’t care, because this man wasn’t his husband.

“You’re not Mo Ran,” he said in a cold, sharp voice. “Who are you? A Northern spy? Or an Eastern assassin? What have you done with him?”

The man was wearing his husband’s face alright. He pulled tentatively at his hair, but it was rooted firmly in the scalp—the hair was real then. He examined his neck meticulously, but found no marks of a mask, nor trace of make-up.

However, Chu Wanning had read about the magic some Northern tribes practiced, of the many tricks Eastern kingdoms knew of espionage. He didn’t need to know what had been used exactly, because something was terribly amiss.

Instead of an answer, he stared at him with those dark eyes, with an almost purplish quality to them. So similar to Mo Ran’s, and yet, not his.

Mo Ran never looked at him with such tenderness.

He’d have never stood still under Chu Wanning like he was now. The real him would have thrown him down by now—gods knew Mo Ran had that strength—maybe even slapping or punching him, and he’d order Chu Wanning to kneel in the shrine to repent for his disrespect towards his husband. All of those would have been more agreeable behaviour, because it would be ordinary.

“Why do you think I’m not him?”

Chu Wanning sneered.

“You didn’t do your investigation very well,” he said, pressing the dagger more firmly against his neck and extracting a drop of blood. “Mo Ran doesn’t come to Honglian House on his own accord.”

The rest of it was too embarrassing to tell to an outsider, and much more to one that didn’t know the actual state of the relationship between them. He cooks sometimes, Chu Wanning thought, but never makes a portion for me. He would have never called a doctor to attend to me, nor would have him come to my bedside to see me.

If it was in his fancy, he’d have just taken Chu Wanning, doctor’s orders and his own agreement be damned.

Quick as lightning, Chu Wanning pressed down with his thighs when he felt him trying to extract a hand.

“Don’t move!” He snarled.

His legs trembled with the effort, and his knees protested under him, despite being supported by the soft mattress.

“Okay, okay,” the impostor acquiesced, relaxing under him. “See? I’m not moving. Don’t overexert yourself, you’re still recovering, okay?”

There was worry in his voice, Chu Wanning realised, his hand twitching where he was grasping his hair.

“What have you done with Mo Ran?” He asked again after a moment, trying to recover his senses.

If he spent a moment longer with this impostor that had Mo Ran’s face and voice, he’d go mad.

The impostor merely looked at him with a helpless gaze.

“I’m really not some impostor,” he said. Before Chu Wanning could say anything, he continued, “let’s see, what can I tell you to make you believe me?” He was deep in thought for a second. “Ah! You have a blade scar in your chest, just above your heart!”

Chu Wanning pondered on that, but shook his head almost immediately.

“You could have seen that when I was unconscious.”

Unnerving as it was, it seemed the impostor wasn’t in the slightest bit nervous, even though Chu Wanning hadn’t relaxed his hand on the dagger on his neck all this time. He merely looked at the canopy over them, as if he was being asked a question over tea.

“I remember…” he said, his voice much lower than before. “I remember that in our wedding night, we were like this, with Wanning on top of me.”

…

Like a cat bristled with water, Chu Wanning jumped backwards, jolting to the corner of the bed. The dagger fell on the floor resoundingly, and Mo Ran sat on the bed, smoothing out his rumpled clothes, with a boyish smile with dimples. The smile felt apologetic, and somewhat guilty, but Chu Wanning was too flustered to process that.

He…

He had to be Mo Ran. Only Mo Ran knew.

For all he had been a scoundrel since they married, he didn’t talk about the matters of the bedroom. Not to him, not to anyone.

Besides, in the months after their marriage, he had let many people believe he had gone directly to Mu Yanli’s room straight after the banquet, instead of coming to Chu Wanning’s first and then leaving for hers.

The night of his wedding. It was an unpleasant memory, and he pushed it far to the back of his mind.

He smoothed his own clothes as well, but kept himself in the far corner of the bed. For now, he should focus on what he could manage.

“You let me put a knife to your neck,” he said, incredulity swarming his features and his voice.

For much less he had been ordered to kneel in the shrine. However, the present Mo Ran didn’t show any indications of wanting to punish him. The young man picked up the dagger from the floor and put it on the low table in front of them.

The tray with food Mo Ran had brought was on top of the table. The food was still warm, still steaming—Chu Wanning’s attack had taken a short time. Mo Ran picked up the bowl of congee with minced sea bass and green onions and a spoon, and sat back on the edge of the bed, offering a spoonful to him with a bright smile.  

“I know my Wanning would never hurt me.”

***

Honglian (红莲) means “red lotus”. It was the name of Chu Wanning’s pavillion in the novel.

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#qws au #yearning willow #ranwan #2ha #2ha ficlet #二哈和他的白猫师尊 #dumb husky and his white cat shizun #I have a new tag! yearning willow to find the others parts as well #I’m writing another plot heavy fic #so sometimes being able to just write heartbreak and angst is... a release? #like I have huge knives for my other fic #but I can’t show them yet #so I’m releasing my cruelty on ranwan