#wei 'orphaned several times over' wuxian anyone?????

[stolligaseptember]

don't make me write an essay on why lwj is anne elliott in persuasion aus

#'lwj is captain wenthworth' what are y'all smoking #LWJ CAVED TO SOCIAL PRESSURES BEFORE REALIZING THE ERRORS OF HIS WAYS AND THROWING CAUTION TO THE WIND ONCE HE GETS A SECOND CHANCE #HE WITHERED AWAY FOR (8) 13 YEARS LONGING FOR A LOVE HE THOUGHT HE'D NEVER GET BACK #HE DOESN'T DARE TO HOPE THAT THE ONE HIS HEART ACHES FOR COULD EVER LOVE HIM BACK #(AND FEARS THAT HE'S JUST CRUELLY TOYING WITH HIS WITH HIS AFFECTIONS BUT CAN NONETHELESS NEVER STAY AWAY) #BUT THEN HE D O E S IN THE MOST HEARTBREAKING WAY IMAGINABLE #HE'S GOOD WITH CHILDREN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 #and wwx is a cocky little shit that needs to get knocked down a few pegs before he can deserve his happily ever after #a cocky little shit that's justified in his cockiness but who needs a reality check nonetheless!!!! #and let's not talk about the intricacies of the elliott family while the wenthworth's are just. frederick his sis and brother-in-law. #wei 'orphaned several times over' wuxian anyone????? #y'all really opened pandora's box with this one #my fastidiousness with austen au's and my favorite austen work at that????? #anyway. persuasion aus. good god i'm going to faint. #the pining. the longing. the angst. the distance. the familiarity. the soulmatedness of it all. #lan wangji #mdzs #mo dao zu shi

[ninjakk]

Hey!!

I recently saw someone claim that Wei Wuxian was starved of conversation on his journey to Yiling with Lan Wangji and Wen Ning and so board he needed to chat to people before they ascend the mountain. I hadn't really noticed this until it was mentioned. What do you think of that scene?

I love your meta and fics btw. You use your understanding of the novel in your writing and it's just *chef's kiss*

Hi anon 👋🏻

Personally, I've not seen any comments regarding the above - but we can certainly look at the text in question 😊

Let's take a look at the scene in question:

Several days later, they arrived in Yiling.

The Burial Mounds were less than five kilometers ahead of this small town. Although they didn’t know exactly what awaited them there, Wei Wuxian had a feeling it wasn’t anything good. But Lan Wangji was right by his side, his gait steady, his gaze cool. Wei Wuxian had never been one with any sense of crisis to begin with, and with the way Lan Wangji looked, he was even less likely to get nervous at all.

Passing through the small town of Yiling, he was awash in the sounds of the local accent. It was invigorating and incomparably endearing. While he wasn’t planning on buying anything, he couldn’t help but strike up conversations in the local dialect with the street vendors. Only after he’d had his fill of socializing did he get down to business.

“Hanguang-jun, you remember this town, right?”

7S translation

So the scene opens with WWX gushing over how safe and happy he feels around LWJ. He's just so thankful to have someone by his side, someone he can fully depend on and is there for him, should he need it. This very much echoes his thoughts from when they began their descent from the Cloud Recesses, at the start of their journey here. For someone nearing the place he met such a gruesome end at previously, he seems incredibly content and calm - all thanks to LWJ. So straight away, we are reminded of how WWX feels around the other man. It's there for a reason, to set the scene. WWX is relaxed and enjoying himself because he's with LWJ.

They have just arrived in a city he is very familiar with. It's the place he both lived as an orphan and frequented as a man while residing at the burial mounds. He is surrounded by the accent of his "home" for the first time in over 13 years and it's making him feel sentimental. I also think it's a great parallel between when WWX finally visits Lotus Pier in the coming chapters and how desolate and subdued the place has become since JC became sect leader.

I think the above reaction is very normal considering the emotional impact it obviously had on him. WWX has already stated on numerous occasions that LWJ makes him happy and he enjoys his company, but he's also very sociable and likes to look around markets and chat with vendors - there's even a scene in the novel which states as such and many other examples. Although WWX is running around chatting and exploring the stalls, LWJ is still by his side. Doing so does not subtract from his obvious enjoyment of having LWJ's unwavering presence.

We see more than enough evidence that WWX happily chats to LWJ and that he, in turn, even responds and asks questions also. There seems to be this mind-boggling misconception that LWJ literally doesn't speak, and if he does he's like some caveman that can't communicate effectively, when it's the exact opposite. LWJ talks when necessary and is very succinct with his words - he's a true gentleman of their time. Of course, in comparison to WWX, he's much less chatty - but when he does talk it's sincere and relevant. WWX loves this about him! He's also an incredible listener and doesn't miss a single thing WWX says, which WWX also appreciates! Hardly anyone listens to all his ramblings and holds them all so dearly!

It's funny, because although WWX chats to anyone and everyone, it's obvious he enjoys conversing with LWJ the most. He treasures the fact they are on the same wavelength and understand each other implicitly 🥰

Aww! Thank you so much anon! I'm glad you are enjoying my meta and fics ❤️

I hope I managed to answer your question! Have a lovely day 😘

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs novel #anon ask #answered ask

[veliseraptor]

Remains Behind

so sometimes all your other projects are going excruciatingly slow and then you read a text post that gives you feelings and go “oh okay I can do something with this that’ll just be short plotless angst” and so that’s what you do instead of the five million other things you should be doing.

anyway, this is more Jiang Cheng: Emotional Disaster fic from me

content warning: uh relatively mild description of a dead body (I initially wrote that as ‘dead boy,’ which is also true).

--

In the aftermath of the battle - with the death and grief and confusion, the stunned incomprehension of what happened, what happened - it took some time before anyone thought of Wei Wuxian’s body.

Someone should go and see, someone said. Make certain he’s dead, and cut apart whatever remains.

I already did, Jiang Wanyin said, voice hard through clenched teeth. There was nothing there. No corpse.

A quiet, unnerved silence fell before Lianfang-zun said perhaps it was destroyed by his own resentful energy. This was not precisely soothing, but at least it was an answer.

Others did go, more out of curiosity than doubt, but it was true. At the base of the cliff where the Yiling Patriarch had fallen, there was nothing but bones, long ago picked clean.

**

A-jie was dead.

That one thing echoed in him, reverberated, circling and circling and circling. Inescapable and unbearable. A-jie was dead, a sword meant for Wei Wuxian driven through her heart. Her son was an orphan.

Wei Wuxian had let go.

A-jie, Jiang Yanli-

She shouldn’t have been there at all. Why-

He knew why.

Go and die, he’d said, and thrust Sandu down, but the killing blow hadn’t been his. Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian had whispered, looking up at him, and smiled, and closed his eyes.

Jiang Cheng could’ve flown down to the base of the cliff. He didn’t. He walked instead, and it was longer and harder and every step felt like there were stones tied to his ankles, but somehow it felt like this was how it needed to be done. A-jie was being prepared for the seven day vigil, and he couldn’t wait seven days to see, to know.

One step at a time, he made his way down.

**

Somehow, Jiang Cheng realized, he had been thinking that Wei Wuxian would survive, as he had somehow, impossibly, survived the Burial Mounds when Wen Chao had thrown him into them. Some part of him had half believed that he would descend and find him gone, vanished, or there wounded but alive. He didn’t know what he would have done in the latter case. Or in the former. Kill him. Hunt him.

Let him go.

But Wei Wuxian hadn’t survived.

There was something lodged in Jiang Cheng’s throat as he stood rooted to the ground and looked at the body in front of him, sprawled gracelessly, a wreckage of shattered bone and spilled blood. It did not look like the dread Yiling Patriarch. It was just a broken corpse with Jiang Cheng’s brother’s face.

It was a mercy, Jiang Cheng thought, that at least his eyes were closed.

Not far from one outflung hand, Chenqing. It, unlike its master, hadn’t broken in the fall. Jiang Cheng stared at it, because that was easier than looking at Wei Wuxian himself.

Others would come to see that it was finished. There would be no decent burial for the Yiling Patriarch, who had caused the deaths of so many. His body would be a trophy, a badge of victory of good over evil. Dismembered, desecrated.

As it should be, Jiang Cheng thought, but he felt sick.

Let’s be brothers again in our next life, Wei Wuxian said. Jiang Cheng let out a slow and shuddering exhale.

He meant to walk away. He walked forward instead, closer, knelt down and picked up Chenqing. In a haze, he tucked it into his belt.

He gathered Wei Wuxian’s ruined body up from the rocks; it felt strangely light, insubstantial. Either rain would come and wash away what remained, or scavengers would come. But Jiang Cheng had most of him, less the blood and what had spilled out of his fractured skull.

**

There was no marker. There would be no memorial tablet. But it was a grave, and Jiang Cheng laid Wei Wuxian in it with a feeling like his chest might explode. He was numb, exhausted, too tired for the anger he kept groping after.

“You’ll be back,” he said to his once-brother’s body. “I know you will. And when I find you again-”

He choked on the words.

“This is the last thing I will do for you,” he said.

Pulling Chenqing from his belt, he started to move to drop it into the grave, but his hand wouldn’t release it. His fingers tightened instead, refusing to let go. For several moments he fought a war with himself.

He closed his eyes, and turned his face away, and tucked the flute into his sleeve. Later, he told himself. Later, he’d destroy it properly.

It took less time to fill in the grave than it had to dig it. And then, at last, it was over.

No. No, it wasn’t.

He turned, and left Wei Wuxian’s remains behind.

**

Yanli’s funeral was magnificent.

Of course it was. It couldn’t be anything else. Jiang Cheng remembered very little of it, but that was what everyone said - the word they used. Magnificent. It was, he thought, the same word they’d used for her wedding.

He did remember several people congratulating him for killing the Yiling Patriarch, as though that was what was important. As though his death weighed more than a-jie’s. As though that was what he cared about, with his sister dead and his nephew orphaned; his nephew, inconsolable, crying himself to exhaustion. Sometimes he settled when Jiang Cheng held him. Sometimes he didn’t.

I will keep you safe, Jiang Cheng thought with desperate, nearly hysterical intensity. I will protect you, Jin Ling. With everything I am-

Let me be enough for this one thing.

Lan Wangji was conspicuously absent.

When he returned to Lotus Pier, he retreated into his bedroom and withdrew Chenqing. He toyed with the red tassel. Ran his fingers over the lacquered wood.

For a weapon that had done so much damage, he could not feel a trace of resentful energy.

He dampened a cloth and ran it over the surface; it came away with rusty red stains. He remembered suddenly sitting like this, holding Suibian, cradling the sword in his hands like he could call Wei Wuxian back with it.

He reached for the hatred he wanted to feel, but it still wouldn’t come.

Mostly he just felt bitterly, horribly alone.

#jiang cheng #the untamed #the sad queer cultivators show #a wild fic appeared #slinks back into the shadows #hey lise whadder you doing

[gusu-emilu]

sometimes I forget (3/3)

chapter three: I only want to be a relief

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Ning

Summary: Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng travel to Dafan Mountain to find the cure to Lan Wangji’s fever. Their animosity results in a very strained partnership, which only becomes more complicated when Jiang Cheng develops the fever too. But along the way, they address the scars that haunt them and find something new in each other.

<< Ch. 1 | < Ch. 2 | Bonus | Art

Post-Canon, Rated T - read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

“You have to take it.” Wondering if he should even give two doses of medicine, Wen Ning placed a hand on Jiang Cheng’s forehead to feel his temperature.

A look of raw pleasure appeared on Jiang Cheng’s face.

Wen Ning jerked his hand away.

Wen Ning stood still for a few moments, unblinking. The memorial in front of him loomed a bit larger, while Jiang Cheng’s hand in his own seemed to shrink.

You’re a good person, too, he wanted to say back. Maybe because he believed it. Maybe because it would simplify his thoughts if he could label this man as good or bad, instead of searching for a name with actual meaning. Or maybe just because it would be cruel to answer with silence.

But in the end, silence was all he returned.

Jiang Cheng’s hand shrank a little more.

He thought of how Jiang Cheng had been furious seeing Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji visit the shrine of Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu in Lotus Pier, had lashed out at them. Jiang Cheng’s anger had been unjustified, built on a lie, but now Wen Ning could understand it.

If Jiang Cheng really was a good person, that was a thought Wen Ning could grapple with on his own.

It meant something else to say it out loud in these burial grounds, in front of the memorial of his family.

And what about himself? How could Wen Ning accept these words from Jiang Cheng after leaving Jin Ling an orphan, and failing to save Wei Wuxian from his own self-destruction? What position were they in to call each other good or bad, or anything at all?

“Doesn’t matter,” Wen Ning found himself saying, after such a long time that they should’ve forgotten what they were talking about. At some point their hands had separated.

“No,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice trailing off. “It doesn’t.”

* * *

They sat in the goddess’s cave, waiting for nightfall. The sun had lowered in the sky, but it would be many hours until they could harvest the Ever-Frozen Flower’s nectar.

Jiang Cheng had been surprisingly quiet. He was leaning against the stone wall and toying with Zidian with weak fingers, struggling to make a spark, curling his lips every time he failed. While he sulked in between attempts, his eyes rested softly on the medicine Wen Ning was preparing.

Too quiet.

He must’ve run out of things to criticize, Wen Ning thought.

But he couldn’t deny that the space between them felt different. Since summoning the goddess, Jiang Cheng’s combativeness had faded, and a solemnity had slipped between his feverish tremors.

Was the flu affecting his emotions, or had his behavior changed for another reason?

“Jiang Wanyin,” Wen Ning said as he handed over the medicine, as well as a small basin of water and a wet cloth for Jiang Cheng to cool himself with.

Water dribbled down from the cloth as Jiang Cheng massaged it into his forehead. “What?”

“Who told you where to find the cure?”

The cloth paused, covering one side of his face. “The goddess.” He rubbed the cloth on his neck, a little harder than before. “Who else?”

“That’s not what it seemed like.”

“Well, it was.” He swallowed the medicine, then shuddered at whatever foulness it must’ve tasted like.

Quiet but stern, Wen Ning said, “We’re working on this together, you know.”

Jiang Cheng met his eyes, then looked away and dunked the cloth in the basin of water. “I know.”

Wen Ning still felt like he was hiding something, but decided to drop it. If it were important, it would come up again. Several miraculous hours had passed since their shouting match, and Wen Ning wasn’t eager to provoke another one.

Besides, Jiang Cheng of all people should’ve known the dangers of keeping secrets.

Now that the last dose of medicine was gone, Wen Ning stood. “I’ll go to the village at the bottom of the mountain and buy some more. It won’t be as good as my clan’s, but it’ll still help.”

“Don’t bother,” Jiang Cheng said. “I’ll last.”

“We’ll be here for a while. There’s no cold spring to stifle the fever like Lan Wangji has at the Cloud Recesses. You need medicine.”

“I said, don’t bother.”

“I won’t be long.” Wen Ning headed toward the mouth of the cave.

“Didn’t you hear me?”

“What’s wrong?” Wen Ning turned around, irritated. “Why don’t you want to feel better?”

Jiang Cheng scowled. He tried to sit up taller, like he needed a better angle to yell at Wen Ning, but he just sank back into a slump. “Maybe I don’t think you should leave!”

Suddenly he looked small. His violet clan leader robes, the silver snake of Zidian, the sweat dripping down his brow, the pink flush in his cheeks. It all seemed to swallow him.

For the first time, Wen Ning realized that Jiang Cheng might have been scared. He was used to wielding power and prowess. Now he could barely hold himself upright. He couldn’t even make Zidian crackle.

If the cure didn’t work, in two sunsets time Lan Wangji—the spouse of another of his siblings—would die. And so would Jiang Cheng. Or, if he was fortunate, he’d lose his cultivation abilities, for the second time in his life.

He wants me to keep him company.

Now that Wen Ning knew, he wasn’t surprised. He just hadn’t expected Jiang Cheng to reveal it.

Something about the knowledge was…ironic.

Invigorating, even, if he ignored the possibility that the cure might fail.

“I’m going to get more medicine,” Wen Ning said.

“Stop doing things for me.”

“Whether I leave or not, isn’t that doing something for you either way?” Wen Ning smiled slightly. He wasn’t sure why, but this whole situation was starting to amuse him. Maybe they had been in this cave for too long.

“After that, I won’t leave Jiang-zongzhu all by himself again.”

“You—” Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened. He looked as embarrassed as Wen Ning had expected, and it sent a rush of satisfaction through him.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng spat. “At least go to a bigger town than that backwater village, and buy better medicine.”

“I’ll go wherever I want.”

“Tch. Good.” Jiang Cheng crossed his arms, but it must’ve taken too much effort to hold them there, because he let them fall limp at his sides again. He flushed redder. “Please, take your time,” he said sarcastically.

“I will.”

Whatever strange exchange was happening right now, Wen Ning was enjoying it. He needed something to distract him from the grief he felt at the memorial, from the growing feeling of uncertainty about whether they’d find the ice-flower once night fell.

Watching Jiang Cheng try to hold together his crumbling dignity was an unexpected solution.

“Well? Are you going or not?”

Wen Ning nodded. “I’m going.” He strolled toward the mouth of the cave, an unusual spring in his step. “I’m just taking my time.”

* * *

On his way back from buying medicine, he searched through the western forest of Dafan Mountain to find the Ever-Frozen Flower. As he expected, there were only common weeds and wildflowers. Perhaps the ice flower was not visible until the coldest point of the night when it bloomed.

He hoped the flower would really be there.

Finally, night blanketed the mountain, and the goddess’s cave grew dark with somber shades of blue. Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng sat next to each other with their backs against the stone wall. Jiang Cheng was about to light a talisman.

“You d-don’t need to,” Wen Ning said. “You should sleep. I’m fine without light.”

The commonplace medicine from the village was not as effective as what Wen Ning had found on the mountain. This medicine was able to alleviate Jiang Cheng’s headache and soreness, but not the heat burning through his body.

Jiang Cheng had removed his outer robe to cool off. It hadn’t helped. At this rate, his hot breath was going to make the cave float into the sky like a paper lantern.

With a drowsy nod, Jiang Cheng fumbled with the talisman and tucked it back in his robes with shaking hands. His eyelids were heavy, but he didn’t look any closer to deciding to go to sleep.

“You really should rest. You were awake all day and the night before.”

After a long silence, Jiang Cheng adjusted his sweat-drenched robes and spoke, his voice weak and dry. “Do you sleep?”

“I’ll k-keep watch.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Can you sleep?”

Wen Ning paused, surprised by the question. Outside of the slightly invasive remarks of the juniors, it had been a long time since anyone showed interest in what his life was like as a fierce corpse. Everyone was too uncomfortable with his existence to be curious about the details.

“I can,” Wen Ning said. “I don’t need to, though.”

Jiang Cheng shifted his posture. “…Is it any different?”

“Y-Yes, a little.” Wen Ning folded his hands in his lab, gently fiddling with his fingers. “I don’t dream anymore, and I don’t feel any different when I wake up.”

Jiang Cheng looked displeased by this answer. Or maybe he always looked like that. Wen Ning tried to smile and said, “You get used to it.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Right. The way one gets used to anything.”

Despite how sharp his tone was, there was something fragile in his voice. Wen Ning wasn’t sure if they were talking about sleep anymore.

There was no reason for Wen Ning to keep talking, but there was also no reason to stop, so he continued. “At least there are other sensations for me to feel. I can eat and breathe, although I can’t taste or smell. But I can still see and hear the same as I used to.”

As he spoke, Jiang Cheng seemed to deflate next to him. He couldn’t tell if Jiang Cheng’s body was just relaxing or collapsing in on itself. He must’ve really needed sleep. Maybe if Wen Ning talked for long enough, he would drift off.

“Really, all I need is to see, hear, and move. Then I can spend time with people. I can see A-Yuan, and Wei Wuxian, and…” He almost said Jin Ling. That would’ve been a mistake.

The breathing beside him steadied. A sound of slumbering.

Guessing that Jiang Cheng was no longer listening, Wen Ning let his words flow without thinking. “I miss my sense of touch, though. I’d like to feel something softer when I pet Hanguang-Jun’s rabbits.” He sighed. “I used to like so many things. Folding clothes, rolling pebbles in my hands. Feeling the sun at full strength.”

He smiled an empty smile to himself. “I miss the feel of people. Sometimes A-Yuan hugs me. I know what it’s supposed to feel like, and it doesn’t feel like that.” He traced the palm of his hand with a finger. “It doesn’t feel like what it should to A-Yuan, either.”

His mind wandered to Wei Wuxian. Being resurrected in Mo Xuanyu’s body came with its own set of problems for Wei Wuxian, but at least he looked and felt alive to everyone around him. Was alive.

His voice darkened. “I’m sure it’s much better for Wei Wuxian to hug A-Yuan.”

“A-Yuan,” Jiang Cheng echoed.

Wen Ning flinched. Jiang Cheng really was listening.

But if he was honest, that was what he had wanted, wasn’t it?

Jiang Cheng worked his mouth for a few moments. “Lan Sizhui is the only thing left of your clan that you…need.” It sounded like a question.

Where did that come from? With a perplexed tilt of his head, Wen Ning said, “W-W-Well, yes, I think so.”

“Then I…I shouldn’t have said that.” Jiang Cheng’s voice was murky, his eyes downcast.

“Said what?”

There was no reply.

Sifting through his memories of the day, Wen Ning recalled standing the street of the village, the air filled with dust and Jiang Cheng’s scornful words. What kind of descendant doesn’t guard the relics of his own clan?

It had stung. It still stung. Wen Ning could defeat any opponent in battle, but he couldn’t save his clan. Couldn’t even recover their belongings from the village.

He didn’t want to, he realized.

The surname Wen had died with his clan, and he had no intention of restoring it.

That made him feel guiltier.

And what of Wen Qing? What was left of her? No one spoke her name anymore, not even to praise her skills as a doctor. There was no record of her talents and discoveries, for they were all wasted on Wen Ruohan, purposely forgotten by the world. And her breakthrough as the first surgeon to transfer a golden core—well, no one wanted to remember that, either.

They had no legacy. The only people still here to pray that the Dafan Wen found an afterlife were Wen Ning, A-Yuan, and Wei Wuxian. And maybe Lan Wangji.

Although, after visiting the memorial today…

Jiang Cheng would never earn a spot on that list. But the idea of him trying didn’t seem so bad.

Back in the dry yellow streets of Dafan village. A-Yuan is my clan now, Wen Ning had said. It had made Jiang Cheng fall silent, eaten up his disdain, forced him to retreat.

Jiang Cheng also knew what it was like to have nothing left but a child.

It was a pity that he did.

“Go to sleep,” Wen Ning murmured.

Jiang Cheng grunted and closed his eyes. This time he really did fall asleep.

* * *

When Jiang Cheng awakened, he began ripping off his clothes.

“Jiang Wanyin? What’s happening?”

He threw his inner robes to the ground and frantically tugged at his trousers. “I’m burning.” He choked on the words.

Wen Ning jumped up and carried over a basin of water. “Here, you should dri—”

Jiang Cheng dumped the water all over his body, then lost his grip on the basin and poured the rest at Wen Ning’s feet. He finished removing his trousers and sprawled out on the cave floor on his stomach, completely naked, using the wet rock to cool himself.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” Wen Ning said, trying not to look at Jiang Cheng’s bare body. “I prepared the medicine, but I didn’t want to wake you up to give it to you.”

Jiang Cheng flipped onto his back. His eyes were shut tight, and his skin glistened with sweat and the water he had spilled on himself. He spread his limbs farther apart, practically melting into the cave floor.

Wen Ning grabbed a vial of medicine. He knelt down alongside Jiang Cheng, fumbling with the vial’s lid. “Here, I’ll give you another dose now.”

Jiang Cheng opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused. “Tastes bad.” He sounded drunk.

“You have to take it.” Wondering if he should even give two doses of medicine, Wen Ning placed a hand on Jiang Cheng’s forehead to feel his temperature.

A look of raw pleasure appeared on Jiang Cheng’s face.

Wen Ning jerked his hand away.

The expression vanished. Something in Jiang Cheng’s hazy consciousness seemed to recognize that he’d behaved inappropriately, and his eyes darted away.

Wen Ning rested a hand on his forehead again. The look returned. Jiang Cheng’s shoulders relaxed, and his lips parted, a near-silent moan escaping from them.

Warmth.

Without telling himself to do so, Wen Ning slid his hand down to cradle the side of Jiang Cheng’s face. Jiang Cheng closed his eyes and turned into Wen Ning’s palm, until his lips were pressed against the edge of Wen Ning’s hand. He stared at Wen Ning through the corners of narrow eyes rich with pleasure.

Wen Ning almost melted.

No one had welcomed his touch so ardently before. Never like this.

He was a corpse. Even A-Yuan avoided his cold hands.

But Jiang Cheng was hungry for them.

And Jiang Cheng felt hot. So hot that even Wen Ning could enjoy the warmth with his muted senses.

Somehow, the fever did not make Jiang Cheng look sick. It gave him a strange, tortured beauty.

Wen Ning tore his hand away. “Y-You need to take medicine.” He reached for the vial.

“Doesn’t help,” Jiang Cheng groaned. He grabbed at Wen Ning’s hand, but missed.

Wen Ning paused. Slowly, he lowered his arm and let Jiang Cheng take his wrist, heat rushing up his arm all the way to his shoulder. Without breaking eye contact, Jiang Cheng guided Wen Ning’s hand to place it on his collarbone. Jiang Cheng’s chest swelled up and down with deep breaths.

“You’re so cold.” His words were slurred.

“D-Do you…like—”

“It feels good.”

Wen Ning felt dizzy. He pulled his hand away, and Jiang Cheng reached after him with weak arms that he could barely lift. Wen Ning stumbled backward, his head spinning.

“Come back,” Jiang Cheng moaned.

This shouldn’t be happening, this shouldn’t be happening, this shouldn’t be—

“If you drink water and take the medicine,” Wen Ning said, his voice quivering, “I’ll…I’ll…touch you more.”

No! What are you thinking?

Jiang Cheng stretched out an arm limply on the floor toward Wen Ning. He opened his palm. “Okay.”

Wen Ning grabbed the water basin and hurried outside, more to escape Jiang Cheng’s greedy stare than to refill the basin.

When he reached the stream, he dropped onto his hands and knees. Dug his fingers into the mud of the stream’s bank, struggled to steady his swaying body.

After a while, he recovered some composure. He rinsed his hands, then submerged the basin and pulled it up. Looked at his reflection in the sloshing pool.

Empty eyes. Dead grey skin. Black veins.

If he looked hard enough, he could also see the heavy chains that for years had bound his neck and shoulders.

When Jiang Wanyin gets his senses back, he won’t remember you said that. He won’t ask you to touch him again.

Wen Ning should’ve felt relieved.

He didn’t.

At some point he must’ve stood up and then he was back in the cave, helping Jiang Cheng drink water and take the correct dose of medicine. After Jiang Cheng finished the medicine, he lay motionless on his back for a long time. Then he furrowed his brow and stared at the cave ceiling, blinking, as if he were waking up and processing his surroundings for the first time.

Wen Ning waited for a sharp remark. A jab in Jiang Cheng’s tone that would push him and his wayward thoughts back to where they belonged.

Instead:

“Well?”

His voice was clear. Sober.

“Well what?” Wen Ning asked. Had to ask, because it wasn’t possible that Jiang Cheng was waiting for what Wen Ning thought he was.

Jiang Cheng seemed to regret speaking as soon as Wen Ning asked. His gaze darted away. His body tensed.

“…Do you…”

“Nothing,” Jiang Cheng snapped.

Something ravenous surged through Wen Ning’s body. His fists clenched, and he was brimming with agitation, an urge to move, to do anything but kneel here in stillness.

How dare Jiang Cheng dangle this temptation in front of his nose, only to swipe it away and flee with it? He had heard Wen Ning talking before about how he missed the touch of other people.

He knew. He must’ve known what this would to do Wen Ning.

How dare he?

“You still want me to—”

“I don’t!” Jiang Cheng finally looked at Wen Ning, and his face was all angles and panicked fury. He winced, as if shouting had worsened his headache.

Wen Ning pressed his hands onto his knees, gripping them, squeezing them. “Don’t yell at me,” he said quietly.

Jiang Cheng’s lips twinged as if he were about to retort. Then he bit it back and turned to look at the ceiling again.

Everything was silent, except for the roaring in Wen Ning’s ears as he fought to hold himself still.

You’re a corpse. You can’t touch him. You don’t even like him.

Jiang Cheng mumbled something he couldn’t hear.

“What?” There was more urgency in Wen Ning’s voice than he wanted.

Jiang Cheng turned his face away completely. “…Maybe.”

Something leaped in Wen Ning’s chest.

His mind screamed at him not to start, not to go somewhere he was forbidden, but his hand was already pressed firmly into Jiang Cheng’s shoulder.

A heavy exhale escaped Jiang Cheng once Wen Ning touched him. His face tilted a few degrees toward Wen Ning, and now Wen Ning could see the flush across his cheeks, a deep red visible even in the darkness of the cave.

“Is that all?” Jiang Cheng’s voice had all its usual spite, but none if its certainty. “Are—are you scared or something?”

Wen Ning grabbed Jiang Cheng’s jaw and jerked his face toward him. Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened. His breath quivered.

“I think you’re the one who’s scared.”

Jiang Cheng swallowed. “Wen Qionglin.” He almost whimpered the name, his eyes wide and fragile like paper moons.

Suddenly Wen Ning was overcome with an urge to hear his birth name like that.

“Wen Ning.” He slowly released Jiang Cheng’s chin and placed the hand on his shoulder.

“Wen Ning,” Jiang Cheng repeated, like he was tasting the words.

Jiang Cheng’s shoulders were hot. His entire body was hot. Wen Ning rubbed his hands across him in small circles at first, then gradually into long sweeps along his entire torso, down to his hips and out to his biceps, massaging gently, letting the heat trickle into his skin. Jiang Cheng’s eyelids were closed, but Wen Ning could still see the pleasure behind them.

The rest happened in a blur. Fingers at the ties of his robes—were they his hands? Jiang Cheng’s? both?—and then the layers dropped and they didn’t matter anymore, and Wen Ning was lying on top of Jiang Cheng and there were fingers dug in his sides and his face was buried in Jiang Cheng’s neck, and he was so very warm.

Since his death, Wen Ning had started spending a lot of time sitting in the sunshine. He’d bake himself in sunbeams, trying to absorb them like some sleepy cold-blooded monster, imagining that he felt as warm as he did under that same sun during his childhood.

Of course, he never felt that warm.

Sometimes he wished that he could throw a rope around the sun and tug it to the ground so it could sit next to him. So it’s heat would be right beside him and he could touch it. Then the sun would feel the way it used to.

And if the sun felt the way it used to, then, surely, the rest of his life would be back to the way it was. His sense of smell, his heartbeat, Granny, A-Jie—everything. The way it was before the war.

Before the Sunshot Campaign.

Sunshot. How aptly named.

If the war had never happened, could he and Jiang Cheng have been like this in another time?

Wen Ning nuzzled his face deeper into Jiang Cheng’s neck. Jiang Cheng was not as warm as the sun, but he was a person, and that felt even more impossible.

As a fierce corpse, it was just as hard for Wen Ning to touch a person with his bare skin as it was to shoot down the sun.

Especially to touch a person like this.

He lifted his face toward Jiang Cheng’s ear. “Jiang Wanyin?”

“Mn?”

“Do you…like this?”

Jiang Cheng’s body stiffened. He was quiet for a long time.

“…Do you?” he finally said.

Do I?

Wen Ning thought about it. He liked how comfortable he felt.

But this was only happening because Jiang Cheng wanted to cool himself down. If Jiang Cheng hadn’t been burning from the Four-Sunsets Flu, he would’ve had no reason to touch Wen Ning.

He would’ve had no reason to be in the same place as Wen Ning.

Something sank inside him as he realized this was going to end eventually. They would go back to resenting each other, and it would never happen again.

“I think I hate it,” Wen Ning said.

Jiang Cheng shifted his jaw. “I hate it too.”

He buried his face back in Jiang Cheng’s neck. “You don’t hate it enough.”

He pressed his lips into something soft and hot, pulled at it with a kiss, running his teeth over skin. Jiang Cheng sucked in a breath.

He dug this way at Jiang Cheng’s neck, then his shoulders, then his chest, desperately hunting for a spot that would make Jiang Cheng reject him with disgust and shove him to the ground like the carcass he was.

“Wen Ning—” Had he finally done it? “Wen Ning—stop—”

He looked up at Jiang Cheng, who was watching him and frowning.

He waited for the insult.

Jiang Cheng tried to push him to the side. His arms barely had any strength, so Wen Ning just followed the push and rolled himself off Jiang Cheng’s body.

For the first time, the cave floor felt cold.

“We—”

Jiang Cheng pulled his upper body on top of Wen Ning before Wen Ning could say anything. He froze in shock.

Jiang Cheng lowered his lips to Wen Ning’s neck and planted a timid kiss on his skin. He tried to run his hands along Wen Ning’s chest and kiss him again, but he soon fell limp and motionless.

Maybe he was exhausted.

More likely, he hadn’t meant any of this, and regretted starting.

Wen Ning reached up and rested his hands on Jiang Cheng’s arms, gently squeezing him. “You don’t need to do anything.”

“I’m…tired…”

“Then rest.” Wen Ning lifted Jiang Cheng off his body and laid him on the cave floor.

Jiang Cheng struggled feebly. Once his back met the dark rock again, he scoffed. “You didn’t let me finish talking.” The familiar glint of derision was back in his eyes.

“Then what were you going to say?”

He looked away. His voice became wobbly. “I’m tired of…of not…doing anything.” He drew in a breath. “Receiving, and not…” He trailed off.

There was more meaning in those words than could fit in the air between them.

Wen Ning’s gut plummeted.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Jiang Cheng blinked at him.

There were words he had never said, but had thought about saying for a long time, and they all came tumbling out.

“We never asked if you wanted it. It’s just, Wei Wuxian was begging us. He was so determined to do it, and I saw how much he c-c-cared about you. He said it was the most important thing to you, so I—I helped him convince my sister—"

“I don’t want to hear this,” Jiang Cheng snapped. He sat up. “I get it. You’re not like me.”

They glared at each other, hostile static between their eyes.

“You did everything you were supposed to for Wei Wuxian, didn’t you?” He wrinkled his nose and coughed out a scornful laugh. “His perfect, loyal little servant—”

Wen Ning shoved Jiang Cheng down, climbed on top of him and pinned his arms to the ground.

A nerve had snapped inside him. Resentful energy clawed up his throat.

“I am not Wei Wuxian’s servant.”

A wave of catharsis crashed through Wen Ning. Rushed out of his body with those words.

“Is that all you think I am? Wei Wuxian’s Ghost General?”

Jiang Cheng stopped struggling and fell limp, gaping up at him.

Wen Ning didn’t know what he looked like right now, but he might’ve been snarling.

“If all I am is the Ghost General,” he leaned down to Jiang Cheng’s face, “I could treat you very differently right now.”

Fear flashed through Jiang Cheng’s eyes.

Good. Be scared of me. Everyone is scared of me.

He pressed harder into Jiang Cheng’s wrists like he wanted to drive them through the stone floor. Satisfaction swelled inside him at the sight of the Jiang Clan Leader so frightened, so helpless.

Jiang Cheng’s lips quivered. “Then do it.”

Wen Ning kissed him on the mouth. Hard.

Whatever he had expected it to feel like, he hadn’t expected to feel it so fully, and he hadn’t expected to be kissed back.

Soon their bodies were in a tangle, and Wen Ning had wandered elsewhere, his hands tracing lower on Jiang Cheng’s body.

Jiang Cheng flinched, as if he knew what Wen Ning intended to do. “Stop, Wen Ning,” Jiang Cheng moaned. “Stop, I—I can’t—I don’t want that—”

Wen Ning pulled away.

What do you mean, he wanted to ask. But regret and shame had caught up to him as soon as Jiang Cheng spoke.

He had nothing that a living person would want. It was already a miracle that he and Jiang Cheng had even touched each other. What right did he have to ask for more?

“Okay,” Wen Ning said softly, and settled himself on the floor a short distance away.

Jiang Cheng looked uncomfortable.

Suddenly Wen Ning wanted to sink into the ground and hide.

Don’t you know what you are?

All Jiang Cheng had wanted was to cool himself off, and Wen Ning had taken it as an invitation to be…to be with him like a real person.

He’d never get an invitation like that.

He wasn’t a person. He was a weapon. A tool. He had pushed beyond his utility to Jiang Cheng, and now it was over.

“Are you just going to sit there?” Jiang Cheng said.

“S-Sorry.” Wen Ning stood and walked over to his robes to cover himself. And after that, who knows where he’d go. It wouldn’t be somewhere in this cave.

“What’re you doing?” Jiang Cheng spat out the words, but his voice was hoarse and unsure. “I’m not done with you.”

Wen Ning glared at him. “You never started anything to be done with.”

Jiang Cheng’s face fell. His mouth opened and closed a few times. “I…”

This was all a mistake.

“I don’t think that,” Jiang Cheng murmured.

Wen Ning ignored him and began to sling on his robes.

“I don’t think that!”

“Think what?”

Jiang Cheng collapsed his upper body back onto the cave floor and stared at the ceiling. “How the hell am I supposed to just think you’re the Ghost General?” He clenched his fists. “Do you know how hard I try to do that?”

Wen Ning mindlessly crumpled the robes in his hands.

“Both of you are horrible. You. Wei Wuxian.”

The robes were back on the ground, and Wen Ning was standing over Jiang Cheng.

He scowled and looked away. “You should’ve stayed away from me and Jin Ling if you wanted me to hate you.”

Wen Ning was sitting next to him.

“Did you forget I’m sick right now?” Jiang Cheng swallowed. His voice softened. “I didn’t want to…that…I only…”

Wen Ning lay on his side next to Jiang Cheng, and loathed himself for being there, feeling exposed, desperate. Stupid.

“Just start over.”

Wen Ning forgot which of them moved first, but then again it didn’t really matter—none of this would matter once it was over—and they lay on their sides facing each other, arms around each other, chests gently pressed together, legs slightly intertwined. Warmth embraced Wen Ning once more.

After a while, Jiang Cheng dozed off.

He had asked this at least twice before, but Jiang Cheng would not hear him, so Wen Ning asked again, “Do you like this?”

Jiang Cheng made a low sound that could’ve been a yes or a no. Perhaps it was both. “Warmer now,” he said, half-asleep, his words slurred.

Of course.

Wen Ning had hugged Jiang Cheng so long that his body had absorbed the heat, and now he even radiated warmth of his own. His usefulness was truly used up.

“Sorry.” He moved to sit up. “I’ll let you sleep now.”

Jiang Cheng wrapped his arms tighter around him, which didn’t do much given how weak and drowsy he was, but Wen Ning felt it so strongly that if he had breath left, it would’ve been squeezed out of him.

“Where are you going?” It sounded like a plea.

With trembling hands, Wen Ning easily peeled Jiang Cheng’s arms off him and pulled away again. “I can’t cool you off anymore.” He stood and slowly turned to walk toward the pile of his robes.

“Why does everyone keep leaving?”

Wen Ning froze.

Something had broken in Jiang Cheng’s voice.

His eyes were closed, his cheeks pink and damp. His expression had fallen as if dropped off a cliff and cracked open raw on the ground.

Wen Ning weaved himself back in between the spaces of Jiang Cheng’s body. Put one hand on the back of Jiang Cheng’s head and tucked it below his chin. Pressed his face into soft hair.

“Don’t leave,” Jiang Cheng murmured into Wen Ning’s neck. Maybe he was talking to someone in a dream. Maybe to Wen Ning. Maybe to everyone at once.

“I won’t.”

This time, they both fell asleep.

* * *

In the earliest, coldest hours of dawn, Wen Ning went alone to the west side of Dafan Mountain and found the Ever-Frozen Flower at the center of the forest, glowing like enchanted ice in a patch of blue-tinted weeds. He dripped its nectar into a tiny glass vial and left, not bothering to stay and watch the bloom shrivel up once the air grew warmer.

He wondered when was the last time someone touched that flower.

It would’ve been one of his ancestors. Even with all the knowledge that had been lost, small fragments of his family’s work remained to help Wen Ning.

Perhaps the Dafan Wen weren’t quite dead yet.

He gave a drop of nectar to Jiang Cheng. Once he was strong enough to fly on his sword, they journeyed back to the Cloud Recesses.

They said not one word to each other.

The juniors celebrated their return, welcoming them with cheers and waves, ushering them to the cold springs where Wen Ning let Wei Wuxian feed the drop of nectar to Lan Wangji, and soon Lan Wangji was cured.

No one knew that Jiang Cheng had caught the Four-Sunsets Flu. They didn’t need to.

Next they stood at the gate of the Cloud Recesses, Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian on one side, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling on the other.

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian said. He was beaming. “I really can’t thank you enough.”

Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng only nodded. They still didn’t speak, because if they said something to Wei Wuxian, it might have been mistaken as saying something to each other.

Jiang Cheng turned to Jin Ling. “Let’s go,” he said in a low voice.

“Bye, Wei-shishu. Wen-qianbei,” Jin Ling said with a shy wave before following his uncle.

Wei Wuxian smiled, patted Wen Ning on the shoulder, and headed up the stone path back to the Cloud Recesses.

Wen Ning stood motionless, watching Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling walk away.

After a while, his mind wandered. He wasn’t sure what he had been thinking about, but when he came back to the present, Jiang Cheng was standing in front of him.

“J-Jiang Wanyin—”

He scowled. “I hope I don’t see you again.” Then the lines in his face softened, and he looked down. A tint of redness colored his cheeks. “But next time I do…call me Jiang Cheng.”

He turned around abruptly and marched away, his figure all flowing violet robes and angry movements. He pointed down the path and barked something at Jin Ling, then walked even faster.

Wen Ning laughed quietly to himself. “See you next time, Jiang Cheng.”

* * *

Two weeks later, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and A-Yuan received invitations for a visit to Lotus Pier.

And so did Wen Ning.

That was a surprise.

“The mighty Sandu Shengshou must be feeling especially generous,” Wei Wuxian said with a chuckle as he examined Wen Ning’s invitation.

“I guess so,” Wen Ning said.

Wei Wuxian’s expression turned more serious. “Do you want to go?”

Wen Ning smiled. “I do.”

And so he went to Lotus Pier, by invitation.

The Jiang Clan was holding a martial ceremony and a small festival. It was nothing that outsiders would normally attend, but then again, Wei Wuxian wasn’t exactly an outsider, so maybe the rest of them weren’t either.

After a round of greetings, Wen Ning slinked away for somewhere to be alone.

When he had traveled with A-Yuan to Dafan Mountain to construct the memorial, they had taken plenty of detours, and stumbled into enough festivals for Wen Ning to learn that it was best to keep his distance from crowds.

He found a small pond with cattails, lotus flowers, and a short bridge passing over it. He stood on the bridge and leaned on the railing, watching the dragonflies flittering over the pond, admiring the bustling activities and vibrant colors of the festival a short distance away, listening to music and joyful voices.

Once in a while, A-Yuan would run over to him and show him something. A drum-rattle with a butterfly painted on its small canvas, a spicy kebab that he described the taste of, a red tassel that looked like the one Granny had made so long ago. Wen Ning let A-Yuan buy the tassel for him.

Dusk fell over Lotus Pier, and soon warm lanterns glowed everywhere.

A set of footsteps beside him. He turned. “Jiang Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng nodded. He stood at the edge of the bridge, studying Wen Ning and then scanning the festival. He seemed to have something to say, but his mouth didn’t open.

“Thank you for the invitation.”

“Don’t think too much of it,” Jiang Cheng said irritably. He turned away. “I…have something to give you.”

Surprised, Wen Ning raised his eyebrows and followed Jiang Cheng through a carved panel door into one of the palaces of Lotus Pier, through winding hallways, around corners, until they arrived at another set of doors.

Jiang Cheng opened them. They stepped into a velvety, dimly lit room. It was Jiang Cheng’s living quarters.

Wen Ning waited in the center of the room, unsure of what to do with himself, while Jiang Cheng stepped over to a shelf and pulled something out.

He lifted Wen Ning’s arm and dropped a small tan pouch into his palm.

It was a spirit-trapping pouch. Wen Ning stared at it for a few moments. “What’s this?”

Jiang Cheng kneaded his lips together and looked away. “From Dafan Mountain.”

“Th-The goddess?” In the cave on Dafan Mountain, Jiang Cheng had ordered Wen Ning to leave after he summoned the goddess, and pulled out this pouch. Had he captured the goddess’s spirit to take back to Lotus Pier? Why would he do something like that?

“No, not her.” Jiang Cheng said slowly. He looked guiltier with each word. “I let her go after she talked to me.”

“Then who is it?”

“…You.”

Wen Ning froze.

He let his mouth fall open.

“Wh-What do you mean, me, how is it—”

“It’s a soul fragment.”

The piece of his soul the Goddess Statue had stolen when he was a child.

How can this be?

Suddenly he wanted to throw the pouch across the room, to get it as far away from it as possible.

“How?”

“I didn’t believe it when it happened,” Jiang Cheng said. “I didn’t want to tell you if it wasn’t true, so I…” His shoulders tightened. “So I took it back to Lotus Pier to confirm, and, well, it’s definitely you.”

Wen Ning didn’t know what to say.

“If you want,” Jiang Cheng paused, clenching and unclenching his fists like he was fighting with himself. “If you want, Wei Wuxian can probably do something with it. Put it back in you or something. Make things feel a little better for you.”

“I don’t want it,” Wen Ning said darkly.

He should’ve felt grateful. He had always wished that his soul was complete, that his cultivation abilities were what they should’ve been. Recovering his missing soul fragment would help his spirit be whole. It would help him fight the resentful energy inside him, grant him peace.

But Wen Ning did not feel grateful.

Does he think I need this? That I need to be fixed?

If he was supposed to put this soul fragment back in himself—to make himself more human, he guessed—then what was he supposed to do about his body? What was the point when there was no fixing the rest of him?

This soul fragment didn’t belong to him anymore, just like his living body didn’t belong to him anymore.

He had hoped that Jiang Cheng meant what he said that night, that he didn’t just think of Wen Ning as the Ghost General, didn’t just think of him as a corpse.

That sometimes he forgot, and then Wen Ning could’ve forgotten too.

He’d been wrong.

He handed the pouch back.

“That’s fine, then,” Jiang Cheng said calmly as he took the pouch. “Didn’t think you’d want it anyway.”

“Huh?”

“You seem fine without it.” He shrugged. “But it would be better to ask.”

Whatever had dragged Wen Ning down before, its pressure lifted, and Wen Ning’s spirits rose.

He doesn’t think I need it.

Their eyes met, and a bridge passed through the space between them.

It made sense that he’d say this. Jiang Cheng had something inside him that no one had asked if he wanted.

That was partly Wen Ning’s fault.

His insides churned with a question. “Jiang Cheng?”

“What?”

“On Dafan Mountain, if you hadn’t been so tired, would we have…” He took a step back. He folded his hands and stared at the floor. “Would we have done more?”

The silence gnawed at Wen Ning’s ears. He felt his heart sink lower and lower as he waited.

“No.”

“…Oh.”

Wen Ning turned for the door. “I’ll take my leave, Jiang-zongzhu.”

“It’s not because of that.”

Wen Ning stood in the doorway, resting a hand on the door frame and gazing down the hall, trying not to let himself quiver.

“It’s not because of you.” He heard Jiang Cheng step closer. “I’m just…I’m…” Anger barbed his voice. “I’m not the right man. Barely even a man. I can’t give you anything.”

“What do you mean?” Wen Ning said quietly.

Jiang Cheng’s voice became even quieter than Wen Ning’s. “Why do you think the Jiang Clan doesn’t have an heir?”

“Because every woman has blacklisted you.”

“You!—” He took a moment to steady his breath and lower his voice. “And what do you think is the reason for that? Bad-tempered, loud, hostile—I know what they all say—and on top of that, I…I don’t…desire. Not like that. Not for everything I should.” He sounded like he wanted to hit himself. “A pathetic husband I’d make.”

Wen Ning finally turned back to the room. Jiang Cheng looked away immediately, his jaw and fists clenched, his face red.

“That’s not pathetic.”

Then Wen Ning’s chest knotted with guilt. He felt like he had dirtied a home that wasn’t his. “Did you…desire any of it? That night?”

Jiang Cheng swallowed. His voice cracked. “I did like some of it.”

Maybe it was different for Wen Ning, banished from human touch for years, but he couldn’t imagine how someone would find this a problem. If that was the farthest Wen Ning went for the rest of eternity, he still would’ve been beyond happy.

“Then only doing those things is enough.”

“Enough for whom?”

Wen Ning stood still for a few moments, feeling like he was balancing on a tightrope.

Enough for me.

Except.

The ghosts of the past had built a wall between them, shattering the bridge to nowhere.

They had spent a long time without acknowledging it, but they still hadn’t fully forgiven each other, and it might've been a while until they did. The existence of the other was as much a source of pain as it had the potential to be a source of joy.

Maybe they could be friends one day. But to become something more, to do that again…

It just wasn’t time.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes darkened, as if he knew it too.

“It’ll be enough for whomever you choose,” Wen Ning said. “Maybe…” He didn’t finish.

He left. Tried not to feel anything, wished that his emotions were as dulled as his sense of taste and touch.

“Wen Ning.” Jiang Cheng had followed him into the hallway.

He stopped and turned halfway around.

“…Thank you.”

Wen Ning gave a half-hearted smile. “Please don’t thank me, and don’t tell me you’re sorry, either.”

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth. Closed it.

He nodded and disappeared back into his room.

* * *

That night, Wen Ning left Lotus Pier by himself. He’d meet the others back at the Cloud Recesses.

Sometime.

For now, he just wanted to wander underneath the moon.

Hours later, he found himself back on Dafan Mountain, in front of his family’s memorial. He bowed, then knelt on the ground, stroking the dirt, wondering if he could write a message in it and have it reach his family.

He thought of how he stood here in the sun with Jiang Cheng, holding his hand.

Squeezing Jiang Cheng’s hand like Wen Qing used to squeeze his.

His throat caught.

Why does it have to be him?

He scraped the ground and let dirt wedge under his fingernails. Then he placed his hands on the memorial stone, pressed his face on it. It still didn’t feel like anything.

He tried humming a song from his childhood, but it didn’t vibrate in his chest like it used to.

A gentle pat on his head.

He put his face in his dirt-stained hands and sobbed waterless tears.

If only one person were alive to forget Wen Ning was dead, he wished it could’ve been his sister instead.

* * *

Two days later, Wen Ning received another letter.

The soul fragment has been put to rest.

You are always welcome in Lotus Pier.

Jiang Cheng.

It made him smile.

He carried the note in his robes from then on. Some days it felt like nothing, some days it felt like a deadweight, and some days it felt like a good luck charm he could use when he was ready.

But it always made him feel a little more alive.

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by liking, reblogging, and visiting me on AO3.

Happy ending bonus scene >

#chengning #ningcheng #mdzs fanfiction #the untamed fanfiction #mdzs fanfic #the untamed fanfic #powered by sufjan stevens #mdzs #the untamed #cql #jiang cheng #ifdchallenge2021 #jiang wanyin #wen ning #wen qionglin #emilu fics #emilu creations

[obaewankenope]

The Second Life of Sandu Shengshou

Thanks to a dream I had several nights ago, I ended up writing this. It’s the beginning of a Multi-chaptered fic that can be read on AO3 here. I’m not even remotely sorry for this.

Not in the slightest. 

One

The day Sect Leader Jiang dies is a day that the entire cultivation world remembers. For them, the passing of the Jiang Sect Leader is an event not to be ignored or celebrated. It is a day to remember his amazing deeds; losing his entire Sect to the Wen and then rebuilding it from the ground up; becoming a living legend during the Sunshot Campaign; fighting and killing the Yiling Laozu; raising the son of his beloved A-Jie into a fine young man who took the mantle of Jin Sect Leader well; being part of revealing the truth of Jin Guangyao’s deceit to the entire cultivation world; fighting fierce corpses and holding demonic cultivators to account for their crimes.

The day Sect Leader Jiang dies is one to remember his deeds and those of his brother, the last of his family beside the Sect Leader Jin.

For Sect Leader Jiang, it’s just another day of enduring a tired soul and a damaged heart, pasted back together with anger and grief. He expects the day to end with his finally seeing his family and those of his Sect who died in the Wen attack, again.

He closes his eyes, takes his last breath, and lets go. The heavens greet him and Jiang Cheng sees his family once more.

He doesn’t expect to take another breath until his next reincarnation which will hopefully be happier than his current one has been.

Jiang Cheng does not expect to cough dusty air from his lungs and open his eyes to the sight of a fierce corpse intent on killing him.

Instinct honed by battle and years of training serve him well as Jiang Cheng kicks out at the corpse, sending it careening back with an application of spiritual energy. His hand scrambles for his sword, for Zidian but finds only dirt. He has no weapon but his body and his core.

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. So be it.

He jumps to his feet, stumbling when the strength of his core seems greater than his body can handle, but recovers well enough to drop into a open-handed stance. The corpse moves toward him at speed and, just as it is close enough for Jiang Cheng to strike, somebody slams into it and away from him.

In the moment it takes Jiang Cheng to register the identity of the person who just barrelled into a fierce corpse, a half-dozen purple-robed cultivators appear from the darkness of what he realises are trees. He’s in a forest. The humidity in the air tells him its a Yunmeng forest, but figuring out where he is suddenly isn’t important anymore when he gets a glimpse of some of the faces of the cultivators.

_He recognises them. _

Shidi’s he’d seen slaughtered by Wen-dogs. His disciples, his responsibility and here they are; coming to his rescue like he was a child again.

Is this his heaven?

Jiang Cheng looks around. He’s in a small clearing, ground recently disturbed by what he assumed had been the fierce corpse rising. A glimmer of silver on the ground reveals Sandu’s location and he immediately picks it up, relieved to have it in his grip again.

Everything is easier with Sandu.

“Drop it Corpse!”

Jiang Cheng looks in the direction of the fierce corpse that had attacked him, expecting it to be holding something, but it was down on the ground, pinned by a very, very familiar blade.

His father’s.

That was his father’s sword. That meant-

“I said, drop it!” Someone shouts. Fifth shidi, Jiang Cheng guesses, judging by the tone.

He looks at the children he’d seen die once, and realises, with a jolt, that fifth shidi is talking to him!

“What? I’m not a corpse!” Jiang Cheng exclaims and then almost let’s out a surprised shout because his voice—his voice.

He sounds like a child! 

Jiang Cheng looks down at his hands gripping Sandu. Those are not the hands of a Sect Leader of one-hundred-and-three years. Those are- those-

“A fierce corpse cannot speak.” His father’s voice, the voice of Jiang Fengmian. “My son is dead, who are you to use his body so?”

Pingheng glows a pale violet in his father’s grip and Jiang stares at his father, open mouthed.

“What?”

Jiang Fengmian’s face looks like it’s carved from ice with no emotion to speak of. He looks more like Hanguang-Jun than the father Jiang Cheng remembers.

It’s incredibly disconcerting.

“I’m not- but- what!”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand what is happening. If this is heaven for him until he reincarnates then it sucks.

“Who are you?” Jiang Fengmian’s voice grows as cold as his expression and Jiang Cheng realises that it wasn’t just his mother that he got his temper from. His father’s is colder, but no less intense.

“I’m Jiang Cheng!” He is and he doesn’t understand what is happening but he’s not going to be anyone but himself. But that doesn’t mean he can’t improvise.

A childhood spent growing up with Wei Wuxian and then being the youngest Sect Leader during a war taught Jiang Cheng a lot. Mainly that he can bullshit just as good as his brother is he really, really needs to.

“I have- I’ve been sent back!” He exclaims, holding Sandu and pushing his spiritual energy into it to make the blade glow a deeper purple than his father’s blade. “I have come back from the heavens to protect the Sect! I swear on my sword and my core!”

Wei Wuxian would be proud of his attempt to not get attacked by his own father and shidi’s. Speaking of Wei Wuxian…

“Why should I believe you?”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t splutter in shock but it’s a near thing. He has no idea why his father should believe him be abuse Jiang Cheng doesn’t actually know what’s going on but he doesn’t want to die in the afterlife. That would just be embarrassing.

“I don’t know!” Jiang Cheng exclaims in frustration. “You never paid me any attention when Wei Wuxian was all you ever cared about!” There’s a ripple of surprise in the group of disciples and even his father’s face shows a crack in the stone facade at the jab at his father’s favouritism. “Honestly, I’m over it! But it’s not like you know enough about me for me to give you a reason to believe me in the first place!”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “Whatever,” he mutters. “Believe what you want, I don’t care.”

He has spent literal decades coming to terms with his father’s lack of favour for him and his mother’s general disappointment in him. He’s over it.

“A-Cheng.”

Pingheng drops to the ground and Jiang Cheng finds himself wrapped in an embrace he barely remembers. His father is real and solid and clinging to him with the same kind of desperate relief that Jiang Cheng clung to Wei Wuxian all those months after Lotus Pier was destroyed.

It’s the kind of embrace that is full of emotions that can’t be said aloud.

He doesn’t drop Sandu—he’s not his father and he fought in a war, he won’t drop his weapon—when he wraps his much smaller arms around his father’s chest and clings right back.

Jiang Cheng has no idea what’s going on but his father is weeping silently as he holds him and Jiang Cheng can’t remain emotionally distant from that. He just can’t.

Apparently, this afterlife has him dead as a child and his family and Sect have mourned him. What this means, Jiang Cheng doesn’t know, doesn’t really care, because right now he’s in his father’s arms for the first time since he was a small child and that’s more important than figuring out what the hell is going on.

One thing Jiang Cheng knows is a priority however is to find out where his shixiong is. Wei Wuxian will have some idea of what is happening; he always does.

Although he’s expecting it, the sight of Lotus Pier as he remembers it from his childhood is disorienting enough that Jiang Cheng wobbles on Sandu as they come in to land. His father reaches out to steady him, close enough to do so with ease and he’s been hovering around Jiang Cheng since he accepted his son is somehow alive again.

Jiang Cheng steadies himself and dismounts Sandu smoothly, and looks around his home with a more open expression than he intends to have judging by the look his father is giving him. He would hide it, the emotions he feels looking at Lotus Pier as it was before the Wen attack, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to. He’s spent one lifetime hiding his feelings, he refuses to spend another doing the same.

Not when he understands how precious this time is.

Of course, his emotional journey at seeing his home unharmed is ruined by the sound of his mother’s voice, loud and very angry-sounding, rapidly approaching.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t sigh because he loves his mother, he does, but she was such a bitter, angry woman who had taught Jiang Cheng to fear showing his soft-side to those who mattered most to him. The Madam Yu, Jiang Cheng remembers was one consumed by resentment toward her husband for bringing home an orphan that was the son of two people her husband loved. After raising his nephew, Jiang Cheng can’t accept his mother’s behaviour as anything but motivated by spite and hate. Perhaps pain.

Whatever this afterlife is for him, it’s giving Jiang Cheng the chance to right wrongs to his family and his brother then, by the heavens, he’s going to take it!

“What do you think you’re doing, Jiang Fengmian: leaving me with that child! He’s useless!”

Jiang Cheng has no clue what his mother is angry about precisely but he knows exactly who she’s talking about. Wei Wuxian. And where his shixiong is, his A-jie isn’t far behind.

It’s unbecoming of him to break into a run, leaving his father and shidi’s where they landed, but Jiang Cheng’s priorities are his siblings. Seeing his mother would be nice in that distant way seeing someone he once valued the opinion of, but he’s lived so long now without her that Madam Yu is less a priority than his siblings.

That’s probably an uncharitable thing to think about his mother but, well, Jiang Cheng won’t lie about the fact that A-jie definitely did more mothering of him and Wei Wuxian than Madam Yu ever did.

Resenting your children because you resent your husband is definitely not a sound basis upon which to build a family, let alone a Sect. Jiang Cheng can admit that, even if it’s only to himself.

The sight of his mother heading straight toward the landing point is a nice sight nonetheless. The last he saw of his mother, she had been fighting Wen Zhuliu with the fierceness she had shown all Jiang Cheng’s life. Seeing her in her prime is something he wishes he’d treasured when he’d had the chance. He has the chance again.

“Mother!” He exclaims, smiling in a way he hasn’t ever smiled at her before. He loves her still; she’s his mother.

His smile is ripped away when Madam Yu let’s out a cry of what sounds like horror and Zidian arcs out in a crackling purple chord that smashes into Jiang Cheng and sends him crashing into boxes of lotus seeds.

Shaking the dizziness from his head, Jiang Cheng realises that if his father thought him dead then it would stand to reason that his mother would have too. His mother of the Meishan Yu. He’s lucky he still has his head_ attached to his body_.

“Ziyuan! Stop!” His father shouts and Jiang Cheng looks up to see his mother with her blade drawn moving toward him with deadly intent.

Right. The whole ‘dead thing’.

“He’s alive! A-Cheng is alive!”

Madam Yu’s approach falters at those words but there are tears in her eyes and a determined, grief-stricken expression on her face that tells Jiang Cheng that his mother is not going to stop.

She must think he’s a conscious corpse like Wen Ning!

Talking to his mother when she’s like this is about as useful as talking to Wei Wuxian into not abandoning him for the Wen remnants had been. So Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother.

He vaults up from where he’s still sort of kneeling among broken boxes of lotus seeds, drawing Sandu and parrying Zidian as it tries to throw him off his feet again.

Jiang Cheng focuses on his mother to the exclusion of all else, though he doesn’t lose the awareness battle dried into him of his surroundings. He needs to fend his mother off and falling into the lake would not help with that.

Fighting his mother is a little bit like the one time Jiang Cheng spared with Nie Mingjue but without the pressure of not making an utter fool of himself. No, the pressure here is not having his head separated from his body by his mother.

Jilie, his mother’s sword, is as fierce as its master, but Jiang Cheng has more years of battle under his belt than his mother and father both. Sandu was more than a match for Jilie but Zidian was still a problem.

Parrying her attacks, Jiang Cheng focused on defending himself rather than attacking his mother; distantly registering the sound of his father calling for his mother to stop, for Jiang Cheng to stop.

Jiang Cheng will stop when his mother stops.

The problem with fighting his mother is that Jiang Cheng has grown used to fighting with Zidian, not against it, and it makes it difficult to handle both Jilie and Zidian at the same time. Eventually his luck at dodging Zidian will run out, he knows that.

When it does, he’s not surprised. Jilie and Sandu are locked and Jiang Cheng can’t disengage fast enough to avoid Zidian arcing around to slice into his neck. The only thing he can do is let it injure his arm instead.

The spark of pain from Zidian wrapping around his forearm is enough to have Jiang Cheng curse and snap at the spiritual weapon with his own spiritual energy.

He doesn’t expect Zidian to unfurl from his arm and instead settle around his wrist, violet sparking disappearing as the weapon goes inert.

That, more than anything, has both his mother and him stop dead.

Jiang Cheng stares at Zidian wrapped around his wrist. “What the fuck?”

In hindsight, saying anything was probably a bad idea but swearing was the worst idea ever.

Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian both state at him with near identical looks of disapproval at his profanity which is just hilarious, really. Jiang Cheng’s entire political history is cursing, shouting, threats of violence, and profanity.

Still, he is somewhere around twelve and twelve-year-olds do not battle their mothers to a stand still and curse. But, this is Jiang Cheng’s afterlife so he can do what he wants, parental disapproval be damned.

Whether it’s his swearing, his father’s words finally penetrating his mother’s battle focus, or the fact that Zidian has in fact decided Jiang Cheng is fine, Yu Ziyuan pulls away from Jiang Cheng and studies him with a more open expression than he’s ever seen on his mother.

“Jiang Cheng?” Hearing his mother say his name so tentatively, sounding so uncertain, is just another surprise on top of more surprises.

He nods warily, unsure if his mother will start shouting at him for swearing, fighting her, or whatever other reason madam Yu can no doubt think of. Jiang Cheng certainly doesn’t expect his mother to drop her sword and drag him into a hug.

He can literally count on one hand how many times he’s been hugged by his mother. This makes hug number three; and he’s including the hugs from his previous life too.

Madam Yu doesn’t cry like Jiang Fengmian did but there’s a slight shaking to her shoulders that tells Jiang Cheng that she probably would if she ever allowed herself to be that emotionally vulnerable. His father approaches carefully, as mindful of his wife’s temper as ever, and gently joins the embrace; an arm around his wife and Jiang Cheng each.

This, this Jiang Cheng has never experienced. Both of his parents embracing him at the same time. The dashed wishes of the child that Jiang Cheng was long ago rise up and have him clinging to his parents with a desperation he doesn’t expect of himself. He’d reconciled his parents memory with his own failings long ago; he doesn’t need this from them but… It’s nice.

Jiang Cheng deserves nice things after all the crap he’s lived through.

The reunion with A-Jie and Wei Wuxian is either going to be wonderful or possibly worse than his mother realising he’s not dead. Jiang Cheng honestly doesn’t know which it’s going to he but he strongly suspects it’s going to involve a lot of shouting and crying at the least.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t pride himself on being right about things like Wei Wuxian always had, but he’s a little proud of himself for guessing rightly about the shouting and tears. He’s less proud when the source of shouting is his sister and tears is his brother.

Mostly because he doesn’t know how to handle either of those things separately, let alone at the same time.

Jiang Cheng feels perfectly justified in mumbling the same excuse he gave his father to A-Jie as she gives him the same look Madam Yu always gave him; expectant. At least, Jiang Yanli expects an explanation whereas his mother expected perfection.

Wei Wuxian is, in comparison to A-Jie near catatonic, clinging to Jiang Cheng the way he used to whenever someone mentioned dogs or he saw one. It’s terror and fear and a desperate, desperate need for comfort. Jiang Cheng, after literal decades spent trying to be less emotionally constipated, complies readily and pulls his shixiong into a hug that buries Wei Wuxian’s head against his chest.

Jiang Cheng used to do that with A-Ling all the time when his nephew was young and needed comfort after a nightmare. The experience comes in handy with his brother.

“I’m sorry, A-Jie, I didn’t plan on dying in the first place, let alone being thrown back by the heavens to protect the Sect,” Jiang Cheng says and there’s more sarcasm to his words than there should be considering the way his sister actually glares at him. “I’m sorry for hurting you all.”

A-Jie’s glare softens at those words. Jiang Cheng means them for a lot more than just being dead in his afterlife here. He means them for failing his sister and her husband, for not being a better uncle, for pushing Wei Wuxian away, for being so ignorant that he didn’t even realise his core was actually his brothers…

Jiang Cheng is sorry for a lot of things.

“You are forgiven A-Cheng,” A-Jie tells him, smiling at last as she joins Wei Wuxian in hugging Jiang Cheng. “Do not do it again.”

“I definitely don’t plan to, no,” Jiang Cheng promises, smiling despite himself because he has his siblings again. They’re alive and safe and though they’ve been grieving him, he knows they’ll be happy again soon enough.

And he’s going to keep them that way. Even if he has to go and kill Wen Ruohan himself at the tender age of twelve. Possibly Jin Guangyao- wait, it’d be Meng Yao still. Su She too, maybe.

Jiang Cheng sighs into his siblings embrace. He’s going to have to write a list.

The years of being a Sect Leader with no family and a newly rebuilt Sect will come in handy now that Jiang Cheng is going to have to single-handedly organise protection of Lotus Pier and possibly kill several cultivators without getting caught. He can do it, he’s of Yunmeng Jiang, but it’s going to be annoying with Sect Heir duties.

Judging by the hair pierce and robes Wei Wuxian wears, Jiang Cheng figures his father made him the Sect Heir after Jiang Cheng’s… Demise. Of course, Wei Wuxian would be a wonderful Sect Heir and Leader for Yunmeng Jiang, Jiang Cheng has come to accept this about his shixiong and not resent him for it. But Jiang Cheng gets the feeling that Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to be Sect Heir instead of Jiang Cheng.

Considering that Wei Wuxian had become Sect Heir thanks to the Wen attack, Jiang Cheng trusts that his brother has been carrying out Sect Heir duties just fine. The admission by Wei Wuxian that he has in fact been completely useless in the week since Jiang Cheng’s death is… Surprising.

But it’s not, not really, when Jiang Cheng thinks about it. Wei Wuxian loves him—he hasn’t shied away from this fact for three decades, he’s not about to start shying away from it now—and Jiang Cheng himself had been pretty useless those first few days after the Wen attack and then Wei Wuxian’s disappearance. He understands.

“You’re meant to be the next Sect Leader, anyway,” Wei Wuxian mumbles into Jiang Cheng’s robes.

“Maybe, but you’ll be my Sect Heir when I do,” Jiang Cheng replies, calmly staring at Wei Wuxian’s shocked expression. “I’m serious. A-Jie will marry and leave Lotus Pier, but you’re Head Disciple and will become Sect Heir when I take over from father.”

Wei Wuxian stares at him. He looks a bit like a koi fish.

Jiang Cheng kindly does not tell him that.

“But- Madam Yu-“ Wei Wuxian splitters and Jiang Cheng cuts him off.

“Mother is not Sect Leader or Sect Heir,” Jiang Cheng says firmly. “It is not her decision who I have as my heir. I love her but you are my brother and I will not allow anyone to treat you like you are unworthy of being treated as my brother. Not even mother.”

It seems that Jiang Cheng can reduce Wei Wuxian to speechless by a) dying and reviving, and b) declaring him his brother and being willing to fight Madam Yu about it.

Considering Jiang Cheng has already fought his mother today, he’s relatively confident he could beat her if it came to that; even if he’s twelve. He’d rather it didn’t but Jiang Cheng has learnt to plan for contingencies as a Sect Leader.

You never knew if you were going to reveal a major plot to undermine the Great Sects and frame your brother for crimes he didn’t commit, after all.

Speaking of contingencies, Jiang Cheng wonders if it would be wise to reach out to Gusu Lan earlier than the Disciple Exchange in three years. The Lan would be able to offer assurances to the other Sects that Jiang Cheng really isn’t dead, and it would afford him the chance to introduce Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian sooner. Whilst he’d much rather gouge his eyes out than witness his brother being so shameless with the Second Jade of Lan, Jiang Cheng remembers how happy his shixiong had been with Hanguang-Jun and Jiang Cheng will do whatever he has to, to make sure his siblings are happy.

Even if he has to endure shameless flirting and truly obnoxious displays of affection.  

He’ll have to figure something out regarding the peacock for A-Jie too. Jiang Cheng sighs. The things he does for those he loves. 

#The Untamed #Jiang Cheng #Wei Wuxian #Jiang Yanli #Jiang Fengmian #Yu Ziyuan #Kat writes

[porcupine-girl]

Untamed Fic Rec List

Look, most of these are reasonably popular fics already, so if you’ve been in this fandom for a couple months you’ve likely read them. Which is not how I normally do rec lists, but I’m new enough to Untamed that I’m still reading through all the fics by authors I know from other fandoms plus ones that have been personally recced to me, so I haven’t made it into the deep dive of underappreciated fics that I normally like to rec.

It doesn’t help that one of these recs is 445K, so for like two weeks straight it was basically all I was reading.

BUT if, like me, you are rather new to this fandom and its fics, here are some good ones:

The Same Moon Shines Series by sami

This is the 445K behemoth, made up of 23 works, and is technically made up of three interrelated series. The first fic, which establishes the whole universe/multiverse, is 139K on its own. Basically, decades into the canon future, WWX invents time travel.

He goes back to being born, but is reborn with all his memories intact. And he fixes, like, fucking everything and it’s so, so fucking satisfying. Everything’s not perfect though - for example, he like lowkey (highkey?) traumatizes LXC by showing him his previous life via empathy and that has some consequences eventually. Featuring ace poly JC/LXC/WQ triad.

Then in a cracky subseries, appropriately called “ridiculous future bullshit”, we assume that the main six from this universe (WWX, LWJ, JC, WQ, LXC, JYL, & Lan Sizhui) all achieve immortality and find out what they’re up to in the modern day, where they’re revered in the Five Nations (this does a great job of staying in the canon world instead of ours) but of course white Western assholes do things like try and make a disney movie called Hanguang-Jun and the Yiling Patriarch where they marry LWJ off to a girl.

And then in a third subseries, which so far has only one WIP fic, we go back to the canon universe, find out that JC and LWJ were stuck there watching WWX disappear in his time machine array (so WWX actually split off into another universe, he didn’t rewind his own), and so they get into the array having no idea what it will do but wanting to chase down the asshole they love. And so a third universe is born, where they are both born with their memories but WWX is not. I absolutely love seeing how different their priorities are from WWX’s in terms of what they want to change in their new life.

(Also: This is technically a MDZS fic that usually goes with novel canon over show canon if there’s a discrepancy, so if like me you haven’t read the whole novel you might need to look up some plot points now and then.)

The Vermillion Ribbon by @unforth

AU where Wei WuXian was taken in by Wen Qing and Wen Ning’s parents instead of the Jiangs. LWJ (who is the POV character) is a super DUPER dick to him at first, like even moreso than in canon, but the speed with which he regrets his choices is breathtaking and extremely satisfying.

LWJ is a VERY unreliable narrator. He has absolutely no idea what is going on with himself or anyone else at any point in time. Eventually he at least becomes self-aware of this fact, and can at least go wait am I missing something? I think I’m missing several somethings but fuck if I know what. Wei WuXian not understanding this about him leads to some miscommunication, because WWX doesn’t get that LWJ needs absolutely everything spelled out to him in single-syllable words with crayon drawings and y’know, WWX isn’t going to be straightforward anytime he can pretend he’s TOTALLY FINE :D :D :D instead.

LWJ’s friendship with NHS is magical, and NHS in general gets 810% more opportunity to scheme and plot pre-time-of-NMJ’s-canonical-death than in canon and is honestly living his best life. It’s also valuable for LWJ to have a scheming friend because, aside from realizing he misjudged WWX, this is how he starts to figure out that he’s a dumbass who has no idea what is going on ever. But he can count on NHS to always be ten steps ahead, so it’s okay.

(ETA: I’m sorry, I made unforth feel like maybe LWJ was too dense, and no, he’s very much not stupid in general. Like, honestly the fact that he becomes so self-aware of the things he’s bad at, and does things like trust NHS to always understand the stuff he’s missing, makes him come off as very intelligent. It’s just in the specific realm of understanding anything that people say or do that isn’t 100% honest and straightforward that he is just entirely hopeless in a rather relatable way, and like I said, WWX’s go-to is hiding any and all pain so that is a bad combo.)

The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by notevenyou

This diverges from canon when WWX is on his way to Jin Ling’s one month celebration, but doesn’t bring Wen Ning along. So when Jin Zixun attacks it goes very poorly for him, poorly enough that Jin Zixuan thinks he’s dead and it’s reported back at Carp Tower as such. Sending LWJ into a dissociative state. He manages to break through to reality just long enough to find out that Jin Zixuan took WWX’s body back to the burial mounds and left it with Wen Qing, and to get on his sword and go directly there. Thankfully, it turns out that WWX is not dead, but only just barely so.

So LWJ stays there, because now that he spent some amount of time (he isn’t really sure if it was like five minutes or two hours, because dissociation) thinking WWX was dead he now knows that he should never, ever be anywhere but with WWX.

Honestly, it almost feels like a spoiler to say WWX doesn’t die, but there’s no major character death warning while there IS one for graphic violence so it’s not a chose not to warn either, so that’s technically not a spoiler. But things are touch-and-go for him for a very, very long time. And the romance is a slow burn with pining galore. And you get to see LWJ teaching A-Yuan to play the guqin, so like imagine being WWX and you wake up from almost dying to see that going on in your cave.

Velle: to will, to wish by @aerlalaith

This one is actually canon-compliant, and as it’s both quite a bit shorter and more straightforward, plot-wise, than the others, my writeup will be short but that doesn’t mean I loved it any less. Basically, it’s the process of LWJ deciding to adopt A-Yuan in the aftermath of WWX’s death. It starts just after he’s been beaten for turning against the other cultivators, and at first it’s mostly his grief and both physical and emotional pain. A-Yuan starts slipping in to visit him. and LWJ isn’t sure if he’s really okay with that at first.

Of course he becomes very okay with it, but the Lan elders and Lan Qiren and all aren’t just going to be like “ok sure you can barely walk you should def adopt a four-year-old of unclear origins who may or may not have something to do with your demonic dead boyfriend and the evil people he helped, that’s cool,” so it’s not that simple.

There’s a followup fic where, years later, LWJ chooses the courtesy name Sizhui and Xichen gives him shit for it.

save a sword, ride a socialist by sysrae / @fozmeadows

Continuing on my grand tour of Untamed fics by my fave writers from other fandoms, I get to enjoy having overlapped with foz on a third straight fandom which is just fabulous. I totally thought I wasn’t gonna read AUs and then this asshole comes along and writes AUs, which is not playing fair.

I especially love this because it’s modern day but much like ridiculous future bullshit it’s modern day in (more or less) a canonish world, not our world. So like, they fly on swords, but not long distances because it’s easier to take a train or drive rather than use up all that spiritual energy.

Lan Qiren and Jin Guangshan miss the old ways, though, and they think the best ancient tradition to bring back is arranged marriage! Because that will go over well with today’s youth. They try to make LWJ marry Mianmian but he’s like “um I’m gay” and LQ throws a hissy fit about that so Jin Zixuan (who is LWJ’s bestie and is fucking hilarious) hatches a plot for LWJ to cause LQ to stroke out by bringing WWX to Lan Xichen’s birthday party as his fake date.

But when LWJ and WWX meet up to talk this over, LWJ is instantly fucked because WWX has a small child with him and it turns out that this small child is the orphan he adopted. He doesn’t notice he’s fucked until a few days later, though, when WWX comes over for “kissing practice” and they fuck and he calls Jin Zixuan all “I think I caught a feel, what do?” and JZX is like idk, you’re a moron, don’t ask me to clean up your moron messes. And the next day LWJ buys a car seat.

Lan Wangji heard about Jack 110% Zimmermann and said “challenge accepted,” is what I’m saying here. And now I’ve written as much about this 33k fic as I did about the 445k, so I’ll shut up before I just recount the entire plot.

#the untamed #fic recs #wangxian #if I haven't recced your fic I probably haven't read it yet #literally this is most of the fics I've managed to read so far #when I say the same moon shines took up all of my reading time for 2-3 weeks I am being entirely serious #and then vermillion ribbon is 220+k so it took a week or two too #so like i've got ao3 emails waiting in my inbox for fics by tippy and moosefeels and through_shadows_falling and a few others #I promise I will get to them!

[tanoraqui]

[Part 1] [Part 2]

[now all on AO3!]

As Nie Huaisang pulls his horse to a halt, as he clumsily dismounts and begs his san-ge to speak with him in private and they walk off to the side of the road together, Nie Huaisang’s eyes down and his fan covering most his face in embarrassment, he thinks very quickly, and decides faster. He’d promised himself he would do that, next time something like this happened

Here is some of what he thinks:

if the lifeblood of Qishan was power and the heart of Qinghe is strength, then the vital spark of Lanling is appearance. Nie Huaisang has always admired this, even yearned for it - imagine being born to a sect in which it was okay to just sit around and look pretty! Sure, they go a bit overboard with gilt, but who wouldn’t, if they had the money? QingheNie has a fortress in the mountains; LanlingJin has a golden tower overlooking one of the biggest ports in the empire, trade and art and culture all within reach

Conversely, they also thrive on secrets - the dark side of golden, glittering appearance. They’re not so different from QishanWen like that, because information is power. That’s why gossip is a thing 

Nie Huaisang has no particular reason to distrust Jin Guangyao, personally. He’s always been very kind to Nie Huaisang, bringing him lovely new fans and paints and a beautiful finch one time. Da-ge doesn’t trust him, for reason of some things JGY did in the war, but da-ge has such high standards for conduct that it’s a miracle he trusts anyone after the Sunshot Campaign. (And it’d help if he told NHS anything about those alleged untrustworthy “things”...) Wen Qing doesn’t trust him, but in fairness, it was her side that he betrayed. That could sour anyone. Even putting aside the possibility that she’s deliberately sowing discord for some devilish Wen reason. 

Admittedly, anything that Nie Huaisang says to him will almost certainly get back to Jin Guangshan, unless it’s of a truly personal nature - and perhaps even then. Secrets and gossip and power, after all, and it doesn’t take a genius to see that Jin Guangyao is desperate to please his father

even if the old bastard doesn’t deserve it an inch

So the question is, what is Nie Huaisang comfortable having known, and to whom? What does he want to appear as, to whom? And what is he willing to risk coming to light?

He thinks very fast, and soon as they’re well-out of earshot of his disciple-assistants and newly acquired Wen grandmother, he flings himself into Jin Guangyao’s arms, wailing. 

(it’s a little difficult, because Jin Guangyao is one of the few men Nie Huaisang knows who’s shorter than he is.) 

“San-ge, it’s not my fault! It’s all gone wrong! I just wanted to get out of saber practice, but then Wen Qing told da-ge something completely different, and then she made be get a baby, and - ”

The whole story comes out, in stops and starts mixed with helpless, hapless sobs. Nie Huaisang downplays Wen Qing’s successes with his brother, or at least mostly ignores them. He mentions A-Yuan’s nightmares only so far as they inconvenience himself, doesn’t comment on the Wens’ state of life at all, and generally exaggerates every terrible and bewildering situation he’s found himself in since he first happened to glance at Jiang Yanli at Phoenix Mountain

He figures Jin Guangyao probably sees through at least 20% of it, but that’s okay - that’s only deep enough to pierce the outer layer of overdramatics, which are mostly embellishments of the truth anyway, and maybe judge that Nie Huaisang has a soft heart for a cute kid

it’s a very cute kid, okay. NHS saw Nie Mingjue sneaking A-Yuan a piece of candy once. No one is safe

he doesn’t tell Jin Guangyao that

Nearly an hour later, Jin Guangyao peels Nie Huaisang gently off of his (now quite tear-damp) shoulder and smiles at him. It’s gentle, sympathetic, and the only thing it seems to be hiding is a laugh

Nie Huaisang is 99% sure of this assessment. Fortunately, he’s free to let his relief show, along with some healthy trepidation

“I won’t tell da-ge,” Jin Guangyao says, and there’s barely any humor to be seen dancing in his eyes. It’s really impressive, now that Nie Huaisang is learning what to look for.

“Really?” Nie Huaisang sniffles. “I just- He tries so hard, you know. I don’t want to disappoint him, not really.”

it really is all about using the truth. if it wasn’t so stressful, it’d be an incredible high

“Of course not.” Jin Guangyao squeezes him gently by the shoulders. “What is a san-ge for, if not to look out for his littlest brother?”

Nie Huaisang could definitely make a crack about his height smiles shakily and flings his arms around JGY’s shoulders again. “Oh, thank you! Thank you for your help!”

Jin Guangyao hugs him back gently and efficiently, then starts to tug him back to the waiting horses and by-now-dismounted companions. “Go on, get your A-Yuan’s granny back to Nie Sect and get yourself a good night’s sleep. I’ll make sure they’re both marked correctly as requisitioned for labor in Qinghe”

Nie Huaisang thanks him several more times, wiping away his tears like someone who just remembered that he’s not supposed to appear so weak in public. Jin Guangyao waves goodbye as he mounts his sword and flies away, and Nie Huaisang waves back, and then he and his assistants and his newly acquired A-Yuan’s Granny ride home

[they’re never going to be relevant again but I want you all to know that in my mind, these two dumb bastards are brothers with rhyming names, like, Xi Ping and Xi Ying or something. RIP Xi Ping and Xi Ying and their eardrums after NMJ reams them out for helping NHS do something stupid again]

And then...

they actually have peace for several months. 

Oh, the cold war between Jing and Jiang - or more accurately, between Jin and Wei Wuxian - is still brewing like fine tea, and Nie Huaisang finds himself paying more attention than usual to the gossip about it, because Wens come up as often as not. They're the prime example of the destructive power of the Stygian Tiger Seal, after all. And NHS has four of them living in his house, now

the gossip spikes deliciously when Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan get engaged, though it somehow neither eases nor increases the tension in either side

{the timeline is rubbish anyway, so it’s whatever’s convenient for this fic, thank you very much}

Nie Sect’s physicians are too proud to let Wen Qing take over their infirmary wholesale, but they don’t hesitate to consult with her on pretty much everything. Wen Ning turns out to be pretty fun to play checkers with, whether he lets Nie Huaisang win or gets invested enough to actually put up a good fight. Despite Granny’s addition to the orphan-caring staff, A-Yuan still slips away most days and follows Nie Huaisang around like a particularly persistent curse-construct. On the plus side, he’s learning how to be patient enough that the bolder birds will sit on him as readily as on Nie Huaisang himself, and he painted an entirely acceptable butterfly the other day.

Oh, and the veins in Nie Mingjue’s neck are only visible when he shouts, now, and enough time has passed that he’s forgotten about Nie Huaisang’s earlier, rash promise to practice saber for an extra half hour each day. Or maybe he’s just resigned to the fact that such promises never last. This is truly the best timeline!

And then the worst happens, out of the blue yet in retrospect inevitable: Nie Mingjue has a severe qi deviation

He’s coming back from a meeting in Lanling, which wasn’t so much a discussion conference as Jin Guangshan calling a handful of sect leaders together to bitch about the Wei Wuxian and the Tiger Seal again. Wen Qing is in the infirmary, setting a young disciple’s broken leg. Nie Huaisang is in his bedroom, trying to write an ode to snowflakes that, read aloud, is a single tone off from a recitation of curse words for the entire poem. They both hear the shouting from the main courtyard

Wen Qing has a doctor’s reflexes; she leaves the leg to an assistant and arrives in the courtyard in time to watch Nie Mingjue collapse out of the air. The disciples who accompanied him to Lanling are there to catch him, ease him down gently, but Baxia clatters to the ground

Nie Huaisang sees it from his window. By the time he gets there, his brother is laid out flat and Wen Qing and the Chief Physician are snapping clipped phrases at each other as they assess his status, in the mode of emergency responders everywhere

the Chief Physician doesn’t like Wen Qing, doesn’t like Wens, but he can respect her medical talents. Both sentiments are mutual - Wen Qing has a much more comprehensive skillset, but if there’s anything Nie healers know, it’s how to handle qi deviation

qi deviations are difficult and dangerous to treat - the spiritual energy starts cascading through a cultivator’s body, untamed and harmful, and adding soothing energy may help but it may make it worse, or even cause the chaos to spread to the would-be healer

{I actually have no idea how any of this works, and will henceforth be making up my own worldbuilding}

Nie Mingjue’s eyes have rolled back in his head, bleeding, and he shakes like a leaf in the wind, incongruous to the warrior who led attacks on the Nightless City itself. Who held his brother like a guarding stone wall at their father’s funeral. Nie Huaisang cannot breathe

they get him stabilized enough to move up to the infirmary. Someone eases up their grip on Nie Huaisang’s body so he could follow (he won’t remember until later that he was being held back)

It takes four hours to stabilize him fully (unlucky). His golden core tries to collapse three times, his heart stops twice, and his fucking saber tries to attack them once, seemingly of its own initiative. Several other healers join in as needed, even Wen Ning - he’s always been good at getting seizing patients to still. Wen Qing rates it below the 39-hour golden core transfer with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, in terms of worst surgeries of her life, but above nearly everything else, including the emergency liver transfer where the girl turned out to have all her organs on the opposite side and a side order of demon-induced pneumonia

Nie Huaisang has been sitting in the corridor outside, on the floor. Someone's put a cloak on him. He looks up when they exit, forgetting how to breath again.

“He’s unconscious,” says the Chief Physician, who is probably some sort of distant uncle/cousin. “But he should wake. He will wake,” he corrects. 

Wen Qing takes a deep breath. “We need to talk somewhere private.”

By the time Nie Huaisang has at least gotten to see his brother, get proof that he’s still breathing, the First Disciple has joined them as well (I mean, that position is sure as hell not held by NHS). Her name is Han Xiaoshi and she’s built in the same mold as the sect leader: tall, broad, wields her saber like a third hand. She leans against the closed door of the Chief Physician’s office while the Chief Physician - let’s say Nie Fengji - gives a slightly less brief explanation of the sect leader’s current state. 

(it’s not good. he’s in a semi-medically induced coma. he is bleeding neither blood nor spiritual energy. he...should wake, in his own time, if they continue to carefully feed his healing energy)

(if he wakes within three days, he will be fine. for now)

Nie Huaisang’s blood pounds hot and panicked in his ears; an unthinking fan covers his face. 

they all turn to Wen Qing, who wanted privacy. 

Wen Qing soothes hands over her skirt, still blood-flecked, and lifts her chin calmly. Addresses the First Disciple more than anyone. “Before I begin, would you please put a guard each on my bedroom and the apothecary, and my brother’s room as well?”

“What? Why?” asks Nie Huaisang, bewildered. Han Xiaoshi echoes more sternly

She smiles thinly. “I’d rather not be accused of trying to assassinate Chifeng-zun.”

Nie Huaisang’s blood turns cold

“Keep talking,” says Han Xiaoshi

Here’s what Wen Qing explains: there’s an herb grown on the same volcanic slopes into which the Nightless City is set, a grass that absorbs so much yin energy from the volcano that it carries it over into anyone who consumes the stalks, offsetting the natural balance of their spiritual energy. A closely guarded inner clan secret. It can allow for rare, advanced cultivation techniques (including demonic ones)...or it can spark a fatal qi deviation the next time the user tries to do anything spiritually strenuous. Like flying from Carp Tower to the Unclean Realm

“It’s almost impossible to detect in the blood,” she finishes. “But I recognize the pattern of its effects.” Her hands are clasped loosely in front of her. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find some planted in a place that draws suspicion to A-Ning or myself.”

“Who else would know about it?” Nie Huaisang demands, trembling even as the ice is settles into his veins 

“Someone who was close to Wen Ruohan,” she says calmly

they all know who she means

(oh, how she wants to tremble, too, too aware of every sword in the room that could be turned against her. Aware of A-Yuan and Granny and Wen Ning, her brother in the corridor just outside, and how it still hasn’t been a year since Wen blood ran in the flagstones of this castle. But Wen Qing has never been one to shake)

“There’s something else I should say,” she admits, to Nie Huaisang more than anyone. “I don’t actually know much about qi deviation - I’ve had a crash course, obviously, and I’m not a fool, but I’m mostly been treating it as a blood pressure problem - ”

“Obviously,” the Chief Physician scoffs

“ - but my Uncle Six is a true expert. Wen Zhichen - he was friends with your aunt, Huaisang-gongzi; your older sister, Fengji-shifu [the previous Chief Physician, killed in battle in the fifth month of the Sunshot Campaign]. If anyone can wake Nie-zongzhi, it’s him - ”

she could have said this earlier, could have said it weeks ago, or even from the start - but she had Wen Ning to think of before anyone else, and then A-Yuan who was too young to have accumulated crimes even as a Wen...

Wen Qing had once noted that the second son of Nie had likely never felt fear, true fear, in his life. That’s not true anymore. His brother is unconscious in the next room over and it’s not sure if he’ll ever wake. And it’s consequences catching up with him again, for real this time, this maybe-first time - was it the Wens, villainous duplicitous Wens that he brought into their home himself? Was it someone else, equally traitorous, suspicion roused to a killing intent by something Huaisang did himself?

People do a lot things when they’re feel fear deep down to their souls. They scrape and bow; they make bargains they shouldn’t, accept costs they can’t. They bend or they break

Nie Huaisang is a fop by preference, but it turns out that he breaks like a Nie

He shoves Wen Qing against the wall, hand on her throat. “Tell me this isn’t a trick. Tell me this isn’t some fucking ploy to get more Wen-dogs into my home, so you can finish killing my brother.” He shakes her, drops the fan to put his hand on the saber he's terrible with (it still hums eagerly for blood.) “Tell me.”

“I am,” she gasps

There is a tableau. Then Nie Huaisang drops her and strides for the door. “Shijie, put guards on her rooms, her brother’s, and Granny’s,” he snaps to Han Xiaoshi. “Don’t let anyone enter. Gather the Wens all in the third guest bedroom and keep them there - make sure A-Yuan has some paints to keep him quiet. And I’ll need your two fastest - no, those with the best strength and endurance in flight - ”

“Nephew - ” says the Chief Physician, and “Young Master,” says the First Disciple, a little impressed and a medium dubious

the closest Nie Huaisang has ever gotten to this commanding before was the early days of the Sunshot Campaign when there were no battle lines to hide behind yet, when he sometimes followed Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji as they tore across the country and directed the clean-up of their wake

“The best strength and endurance,” he repeats over them. The fan stays on the floor. “We’re flying to Qishan - we’ll be back with an extra expert for you in a couple days, Uncle. In the meantime, you can have Wen Qing if you need her, but otherwise they all stay in the third guest room.”

It takes a full day to fly to the Wen settlement in Qishan, at Nie Huaisang’s best pace. Starting already late in the afternoon, full of anger and terrified panic in equal measure, it’s beyond late by the time they near - and all but the anger has simmered away. Nie Huaisang lets them settle near the nearest halfway decent city instead, forces himself to lay on the ground and try to sleep, and sends one of his disciples out to buy the nicest fan they can find. He left so fast, he forgot to pick one up again

When they land in the filthy little town just after dawn, he stumbles off his sword more than lands (he is genuinely tired, at least) and runs to hammer on the door of the supervisory office, all terror and panic. “Jin-guniang! Jin-guniang! Help, help! It’s me, Nie Huaisang! I need - ”

“What?!” The captain yanks the door open (she sleeps above the office) and he very much does fall into her arms

“Ah, you have to help me!” He’s disheveled with flight and weepy with tears. “Wen Qing poisoned my brother and now he won’t wake up, so I have to find her sixth uncle - ”

“What - Nie Huaisang, what? Is she threatening - that Wen-bitch - ”

“No, no, we beat up her brother until she said - please! He’s the best at qi deviation, even Uncle Physician admitted it - ”

make sure to have Wen Ning beaten up just enough to look good, he notes in a small, back corner of his mind. in case there are spies in the castle. I’d have spies, if I could

“Okay, okay!” Jin Qixian ushers him into the office, half-holding him up. “Let me check the list of residences - sit down, Huaisang-gongxi, someone will brew tea...”

[five minutes later...]

“A different camp?” Nie Huaisang cries, fluttering his new fan in dismay

“They needed a healer...” Jin Qixian says apologetically. “But you just wait here, I’ll send someone - ”

“No, no,” Nie Huaisang gets to his feet, shaking his head. Happy to let the exhaustion of a 10-hour flight and 4 hours fitful sleep in the woods show, and the desperate helplessness that’s really not hard to fake. “I have to- Da-ge is counting on me - ”

He waves off all her attempted reassurances, bullheaded with anxiety, and accepts an officially sealed note of authority with babbling gratitude, and...

[about an hour and a half later...]

the other town the remnants of the Wen sect and soldiers have been relegated to is more of a city, really - cramped and filthy, where the other one was merely destitute and filthy. Families living all in one room or worse, and it’s okay because they’re only home to sleep; the fields are already filled with everyone old enough to work. They probably do need healers, because there’s not enough attention being paid to waste management. But - 

“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Nie Huaisang demands more sharply than he’d intended

Focus, A-Sang. It’s Nie Mingjue’s voice in his head, always, as though this was just another hated saber practice

“I’m sorry, Young Master Nie,” says the disciple in charge of this place - Jin Guangchao, another stray cousin. does everyone in that family spread seed like a watering can? “There was an incident a few days ago - ”

“He’s dead?” Nie Huaisang wails, sinking to ground

“No!” Jin Guangchao looks a little disgusted at his helplessness, but bends down to pull him up anyway. “Jin Zixun came around on an inspection and that one you wanted, he was impudent. Jin Zixun ordered him sent to the work camp at Qiongqi Pass.”

mother of fucking fucker [meaning Jin Zixun; meaning the whole situation]. the man probably made eye contact and that overbearing asshole - 

“That’s so far away!” Nie Huaisang whined, staying limp, crying into his fan

“Nie-shixiong, it is on the way - ” one of his disciples offers uncertainly (poor bastards - he’s really yanking them around. They’re not sure if they’re helping a con or offering real support)

“We’ll get him back to Chifeng-zun, and get Chifeng-zun back on his feet,” says the other, slipping her arm under his and pulling him to his own feet. “Come on, you’ll see”

(whether it’s for the con or not, Nie Huaisang appreciates it. They’ve never been this genuinely nice to him before)

there’s a conversation in the air halfway to Qiongqi Pass. It goes like this:

“Nie-shixiong, we have to rest. You have to rest.”

[gritted teeth] “I’m fine.”

“You’re going to fall off your sword.” (Liu Lifang, the older woman)

“Then you’ll carry me, won’t you? We’ll already have Wen Zhichen - we’ll double up.”

“Your, uh, dramatics - ” (Zhao Huandi, younger, male - there aren’t a lot of Nies, in Nie. There’s a lot of guest cultivators. There’s a lot of turnover.)

“Will be just as good, if not better, when I’m fainting from spiritual exhaustion.” [slightly bitter, mostly factual] “Don’t worry, I won’t deviate - I don’t use my saber enough for that.” [definitely exhausted] “We don’t stop.”

The work camp at Qiongqi Pass has all the bully-filled charm of Jin Qixian’s town and all the overworked labor je-ne-sais-quoi of the other one, and it’s started raining so there’s a really nice note of despair. If Nie Huaisang had any room left in his brain, he would mourn the beauty of the frescos being destroyed, grand and glorious works of art even if their glory was that of the Wens

he slides off Liu Lifang’s sword in the middle of the densest group of workers, cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Hey! Wen Qing’s Sixth Uncle, Wen Zhichen of DafanWen! Nie Sect requisitions you!”

the prisoner-workers all shrink away; an inspector hurries over. “Hey, who are you - ”

“You will respect Second Master Nie Huaisang,” snaps Zhao Huandi, hand on his saber while Nie Huaisang starts to cry on cue for the third time that day, and god, either they’re really getting it or he’s just blessed with a sect full of perfect straight men.

“Please,” Nie Huaisang begs, leaning on his disciple and waving the letter from Jin Qixian. “I need a healer - that healer, it’s my brother, he’s been poisoned - ”

they’re real tears of exhaustion. maybe he should have let them talk him into a rest

(Da-ge will be fine, he knows, he insists to himself and the world. He was stable 24 hours ago and Nie Huaisang left him with the most competent people he knows)

the inspector has no idea what to do with him and neither does the Chief Inspector, really, when he rides up. That’s perfect - it means their half-hearted objections are easy to push past

they’re still shit at actually helping, because they don’t know a single person in this goddamned work-prison, and all the Wens just shy away, or pick up a pickaxe and try to keep working if anyone comes too near. The inspectors seem to regard this as ideal

Nie Huaisang honestly doesn’t care right now, but he does notice

Finally Nie Huaisang has wailed loudly enough up and down the valley that one prisoner hesitantly steps forward and admits to being the Dafan Wens’ Sixth Uncle. He has Wen Ning’s ears and Granny’s eyes and the same needle callouses as Wen Qing, so Nie Huaisang calls it a day

except they still have to fly back to the Unclean Realm, a flight of six hours unburdened

Nie Huaisang’s groan is entirely genuine

Wen Qing has taken to pacing by the time the Chief Physician comes to fetch her, personally, from the third guest bedroom. Night has come and gone and come again; A-Yuan and Granny are both asleep in the bed and Wen Ning is lying beside them, though she can tell he’s only pretending to sleep to make her feel better. What a good boy. 

Sixth Uncle is sitting by Nie Mingjue’s bed in the infirmary, eating soup. There’s a couple Nie disciples in the room as well, one sending a slight stream of energy into Nie Mingjue and one simply watching the Wen, a hand on his saber hilt 

(no one’s told her if they’ve searched her or anyone else’s rooms, yet; if they found anything)

“Keep sitting and eating!” snaps Nie Fengji, the Chief Physician, before Sixth Uncle can leap up at the sight of Wen Qing. “I need you talking qi balance, not falling over again.” He mutters under his breath, “People can’t even work if you let them get so weak - can’t trust a Jin to do anything with care.”

She sinks to her knees to hug her uncle instead - and notices a cot that’s been brought in to sit beside Nie Mingjue’s, its occupant also as still and wan as the grave.

“Huaisang!” She springs to her feet. “He didn’t - ”

“Exhaustion. The boy overworked his golden core and passed out.” Nie Fengji pushes her back with a roll of his eyes. “Bullheaded as their father, the both of them.”

He rolls up his sleeves and nudges the attending physician out of the way, to take over easing calming energy into Nie Mingjue without a single quiver in the stream. “Now, you two prove to me why I should trust any sort of Wen.”

To be continued...but Part 4 really will be the last, so, that’s p good actually. By my standards of mis-estimation of how long a piece of writing will be. And it’ll definitely be a short one! Unlike this Part 3, which is...*checks* 4.5k WTF.

#mdzs #the untamed #nie huaisang #wen qing #jin guangyao #a bunch of OCs who i named by mashing together random syllables and i'm not checking if any of them are real names bc it's 3am #ALSO wildly made up as i went: how to address anyone with any sort of title #just went with my gut #so like...apologies if i wildly messed up

[words-writ-in-starlight]

I never stop being suprised at how well adjusted Jin Ling is, given his situation- being orphan and heir to one, potentially two great sects aside, he is incredibly normal given ones who raised him were Jiang '' I express concern by threatening to break your legs and its step up from how I was raised'' and Jin '' I will put up with all of your tantrums because i have 12342 different ways to orchestrate your death on backburner'' Guangyao. Like, how is this kid relatively normal given his 1/2

parental figures were walking mess of decades long traumas who trained him to be as deadly at night hunting as possible and schemer who sweetly smiled while being insulted for everything aand planning numerous atrocities who kept spoiling him with 400 nets and best pet in world? I blame it on Qin Su,.( 2/2)

HERE’S MY THING, Jin Ling is a wreck as a person.  I can think of several “well-adjusted” kids, some of them more shocking than others, but quite frankly Jin Ling is five traumas in a Jin crest, with a sword for a comfort item and a brand new expectation that he get his act together to run a sect.  I love him so much, but the vast majority of his influences have taught him to interact with the world on two axes labeled “Anger” and “Orders,” both of which are normally directed at him.  His only two responses to a crisis are to lash out at the person in charge or to break down into these agonized tears that he feels horrendously ashamed of.  Both of those reactionary schema can be traced pretty directly to the way Jin Guangyao and Jiang Cheng have raised this kid.

Anger: this is Jiang Cheng’s Brand.  It just is.  In fact, I’d put money that Jiang Cheng had a lot of the raising of Jin Ling, because they both handle emotion in exactly the same way--they don’t.  When Jin Ling doesn’t know what’s going on, or feels out of control, or isn’t entirely sure how to process his emotions, he picks a target and gets mean fast, because his uncle is an adult that he trusts to have his act together and that’s how his uncle behaves.  Unfortunately for both of them, it’s actually not that productive to just.  Yell at people and lash out.  It leads to things like brothers who don’t tell you about golden core transfers and potentially powerful allies who don’t trust you.

@ Jiang Cheng, bud, I understand that you have capital-T Trauma and that you’ve withstood years of people applauding you for the murder of the brother who you loved and felt massively betrayed by and kind of didn’t mean to kill but also kind of intended to kill but also kind of chickened out on killing and blamed for everything bad in your life, because that’s what your parents taught you to do.  I understand that.  Please give your nephew one (1) hug.  He would do anything for a hug from you.  I hope the whole Nie Mingjue debacle was informative to you both on this front.

Incidentally!  Jin Ling is especially unstable and prone to rash anger when this phenomenon intersects with feeling that he’s being manipulated or talked down to.  Hm.  Wonder where that could have come from.  Which brings me to...

Tears: Jin Guangyao hasn’t killed Jin Ling yet by the time of the main plot, which means two things.  First, he is sincerely emotionally attached to the kid.  On the upside, Jin Ling got a dog out of the deal.  On the downside, Jin Ling has probably been on the receiving end of a lot of Jin Guangyao’s “protective” instincts, which I think Qin Su can confirm are not necessarily the most fun instincts in the world.  They’re heavily predicated on Jin Guangyao being in control of things, which means that he relies incredibly heavily on emotional manipulation and enforcing the hierarchy he’s working within.  Examples include: Nie Mingjue, Qin Su, Jin Zixun.  Because Jin Guangyao is sect leader for most of Jin Ling’s life, that means that no matter how hard he pushes, his uncle will always have the strength of the hierarchy to back up his manipulation, which means that all the anger in the world is useless, which means that Jin Ling grew up desperately lacking in control.  And Jin Guangyao is doing it for his own good, so Jin Ling can’t be angry, of course, how could he be angry with his uncle for protecting him?  

Second, Jin Guangyao was...never planning to let Jin Ling inherit properly, right?  We’re all on the same page here?  He was anticipating, A, becoming immortal (the whole goal of cultivation) or, B, stepping down gracefully and puppeteering Jin Ling from behind the scenes, or very possibly C, both.  That means that Jin Ling needs to be manipulable, which--listen, you can say a lot of things about Jiang Cheng, but manipulable isn’t really one of them.  That suggests to me that Jin Guangyao probably went with a very basic method of trying to make Jin Ling into the heir he needed: guilt trip, reserve compliments unless certain conditions are met, make gifts and compliments backhanded when possible, reward “weak” behavior while also reprimanding it.  Basically?  If Jin Ling was being reprimanded by Jin Guangyao and started crying, he probably got called out for being weak but the reprimand stopped and any punishment was less intense than it might have been otherwise.  Hey presto, you have a kid who can’t really handle confrontation but doesn’t know how else to deal with a problem, and who understands that crying will get him out of trouble but also associates it with a complete lack of control over the situation.

Not really ideal for a sect leader, right?

Now, this is where it took kind of a turn for Jin Guangyao, because that plan would have been immaculate if not for the fact that Jiang Cheng is as direct a dealer as anyone in the cultivation world.  Yes, he’s angry all the time, can’t handle his own emotions (except by rage and tears! JGY and Madam Yu should get tea and chat about parenting), and hasn’t decided if he’s guilt-stricken or gleeful over the death of his brother.  But.  Jin Ling knows exactly what to expect from him at all times.  Pretty much the only time we see him actually confused is when Jiang Cheng says that, if Jin Ling doesn’t catch something on their night hunt, he can’t come back--and Jiang Cheng is outraged that Jin Ling took him seriously.  (I also kind of think Jin Ling is being a shit about that on purpose.  But that’s me.)

The rest of the time?  Jin Ling is offended that people take Jiang Cheng’s threats toward him seriously.  He’s pretty much completely prepared to throw himself on Jiang Cheng’s mercy when he needs help.  He postures and poses to mimic him, and breaks Wei Wuxian out against Jiang Cheng’s direct orders without fear of reprisal.  That’s not a kid who’s afraid of his uncle, except, of course, that he wants Jiang Cheng to be proud of him, and he knows that crying is a disappointment.

I’m not saying Jiang Cheng is uncle of the year, see above re: PLEASE hug your nephew, but the mere fact that he can be relied upon to react predictably, in Jin Ling’s experience, does a lot to counteract Jin Guangyao’s attempts to control him.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but Jiang Cheng is the product of a toxic childhood doing his best with the tools he has, and Jin Guangyao is the product of a toxic childhood experimenting with a fun kicky new kind of toxicity in the next generation.

And honestly?  I think that Jiang Cheng having gotten some of the weight off his chest about everything, Jin Guangyao’s manipulations being exposed, and having actual friends will do a lot to help Jin Ling get his feet under him.  Not to mention his brand new uncle who is even more forthright than Jiang Cheng and is more than prepared to tell Jin Ling outright when he’s being a spoiled brat without concern for rank, plus also being willing to Give That Boy A Hug And A Sincere Compliment.

I’m not saying that the Jin Ling fic I’m planning to write is going to heavily feature Wei Wuxian going “okay!!!!  You need to learn that positive reinforcement doesn’t always come laced with poison!!!!!”  But I’m not not saying that.

#jin ling #jin rulan #the untamed #mdzs #modao zushi #jin ling needs a hug #starlight writes stuff #this kind of turned into an essay about how jin ling's two primary caregivers messed up #i got distracted from qin su but like. qin su is one of the tragedies of the jin sect and i'm very serious about that statement. #i think she probably tried to regain jgy's affection by getting close to jl but i think they drifted after her son's death #partly because jin ling doesn't know how to handle her grief and pulls back #and partly because qin su kind of throws herself into trying to sway jgy back to her because she doesn't understand why he's avoiding her #and so...yeah idk i think their relationship would be kind of a mess tbqh #they're working through some things. or would be if qin su was alive to work through things. #IDK I BARELY REMEMBER WHAT THE ASK WAS #I JUST LIVE TO DISSECT WHY CHARACTERS ARE MESSED UP AND JIN LING IS A MESS AND I LOVE HIM #i genuinely think he's going to be a good sect leader for the record--there's a good heart buried under that bluster #he just needs to learn how to take a breath and handle issues without defaulting to what he's used to #ANYWAY!!!!! ANYWAY #jin ling needs to cope with some stuff but i think he's gonna be okay #someone needs to give him a HUG and let him CRY and then he's gonna get somewhere #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge #irleughlivelyatalanteangodfan #asked and answered

[kurowrites]

Prompt Nr. 1 for @onemuseleft: You had an assigned seat next to them at a wedding for a mutual friend. I altered it a tiny bit. Also one day I will write a Guardian fic, but today is not that day (sorry!).

---

Truth to be told, Wei Ying didn’t exactly know what he was doing here. He would have been invested in the proceedings if this was his sister’s wedding, or his brother’s (if it was ever going to happen). But this was the wedding of the daughter of one of Jiang Fengmian’s business partners, and Wei Ying had no idea why her family had thought it necessary to invite so many people. Including Wei Ying, who had absolutely nothing to do with his stepfather’s company.

To make matters worse, his entire family had been divided when they were seated. Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan sat with other important business partners, while Jiang Yanli was sitting with her peacock husband (UGH). At a third table, Jiang Cheng was seated together with what Wei Wuxian assumed were eligible young daughters of the aforementioned business partners. How either A-Cheng or the daughters escaped, Wei Ying couldn’t tell, but he was internally preparing for a whole lot of complaints once this was over.

And then, there was Wei Ying. He had been seated at a table of mostly men around his age, which he was grateful for. No eligible young misses for him. What he was less grateful for was the fact that most of his seatmates barely opened their lips, and obediently listened to all the speeches and the entertainment without even cringing at the terrible allusions to the newly wed couple’s sex life. Wei Ying had to tune out after a while and studied the faces at his table, instead. There was a group of four to his right that was very average, and mostly stuck out by the fact that they only conversed among each other, giving Wei Ying no opportunity to strike up a conversation. On his left were three men, all dressed in light blue and accents of white, which Wei Ying thought was a rather odd choice, but Jiang Cheng just had had enough time to whisper to him that these were from the extremely wealthy Lan family, and apparently, the colour scheme was a whole thing.

It wasn’t just the clothing that set them apart from the rest of the crowd, however. All three of them were exceedingly handsome, and two of them looked so alike they might have been twins. There was one major difference between the two maybe-twins, however; while one of them had smiled at Wei Ying in a friendly way and introduced himself as Lan Huan as he sat down; the other one looked grave and severe, and had only just said his name (Lan Zhan) before he sat down and kept his silence. And, with Wei Ying’s luck, it had been Lan Zhan whose seat had been directly next to Wei Ying’s. Which meant that he would be without a conversational partner for the entire duration of this banquet.

Finally, finally, they were spared another round of speeches and were served the appetizers. At least he had something to do now, so Wei Ying enthusiastically went for the food. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the little group of Lan family members to his left. They all ate with elegance and restraint. Every movement looked carefully studied. Was this a model shoot or what? Wei Ying couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t ever seen anyone eat so prettily.

And they just had to put Wei Ying next to these people, he thought uncharitably, so that it would be perfectly evident that he was a boor.

Once the food was finished, Lan Huan carefully wiped his lips with his napkin (there was nothing to wipe off) and smiled at Wei Ying, leaning slightly forward to get a good look around Lan Zhan’s tall figure.

“I understand,” he said in a friendly, conversational tone to Wei Ying, “that you are the adopted son of Jiang Fengmian?”

“Yes,” Wei Ying replied, a little embarrassed that this was still the way in which he was known in these circles: Wei Ying, the unfortunate orphan who was lucky enough to get adopted by an affluent business magnate. “But I have nothing to do with the company.”

“Ah,” Lan Huan said, making an agreeing sound. “What are you doing then?”

“I’m still at university, working on my PhD in Bioinformatics.”

Lan Huan looked slightly impressed at that, and started asking him questions about his research. Wei Ying was relieved. He could talk about his research endlessly, and if there was anyone who was willing to actually listen (no thanks to A-Cheng), he was even happier.

“Oh, you study at Gusu University?” Lan Huan asked when Wei Ying mentioned his lab. “You should have lunch with Lan Zhan sometimes, then. He’s also at Gusu, though he’s in humanities. He’s also doing a PhD.”

“Wow,” Wei Ying said, turning to Lan Zhan and trying not to get discouraged by the forbidding expression on Lan Zhan’s face. “Humanities, huh? I was too stupid for humanities. Too many possibilities. Give me some numbers, I can handle that much better.”

“I am sure Wei Ying is very smart.”

It was the first time since his taciturn introduction that Lan Zhan had spoken at all. Wei Ying blushed at the compliment. He had been called smart before, but all too often, it felt like empty flattery or even a dismissal of who he was as a person, but this… this felt entirely genuine. To say such a thing after holding his silence for almost an hour, Wei Ying couldn’t help but react.

“Thank you. I’m sure Lan Zhan is smarter than me.”

Lan Huan laughed quietly in the background. He turned towards the other member of the Lan family, apparently the cousin of Lan Huan and Lan Zhan, and started speaking to him.

Wei Ying stared at Lan Zhan, trying to figure out what to say next, but now that Lan Zhan had turned to him, he couldn’t help but notice what beautiful eyes Lan Zhan had; strangely expressive eyes that were complimented by a handsome (though invariably serious) face. To have the attention of such an attractive man all focused on himself made him feel slightly embarrassed.

Then he remembered that he was shameless, and he leaned forward with a smile.

“But Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, if you’re really at the same university as me, we should definitely have lunch! My lab mates are such bores, I tell you. They always eat lunch in the lab! They never go out! So antisocial! I’m lonely!”

At first, he was almost sure that Lan Zhan was going to retreat, going to reject him out of hand, but then, to Wei Ying’s surprise, Lan Zhan hummed in what must be agreement.

“There is a vegetarian takeaway just next to my office,” Lan Zhan said quietly. “It is very good.”

Wei Ying felt his smile get bigger. “Oh, really? You have to introduce me, and tell me all the best orders!”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agreed.

“Hehe, it will be fun,” Wei Ying enthused, pulling out his phone. “You should give me your number, so I can ask when you’re free!”

Lan Zhan carefully took his phone and entered his number and even his email. When he gave it back to Wei Ying, their fingers brushed. It was an innocent enough touch, but somehow, it felt like Wei Ying had just stuck his fingers into an electrical outlet.

Nervously wriggling in his seat, he looked down at the information Lan Huan had entered.

“蓝湛, huh,” he said once his brain had gone online again. “A very fitting name.”

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan said. Then he kept staring at Wei Ying silently.

“Oh!” Wei Ying suddenly realised. “You want my name? It’s–”

 The wedding banquet was over far, far too soon. Suddenly, the last dishes were cleared, the last entertainments were had, and the night was coming to an end. Everyone was getting ready to leave.

But, Wei Ying thought as he took his leave from the Lan family and returned to his own, waiting for him, it had been time entirely well spent.

He kept clutching his phone in the car on his way home, staring at the last message he had received despite Jiang Cheng’s strange looks.

I’ll see you soon, Wei Ying.

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #prompt

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: ripples spread out when a single pebble is dropped into water

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Yànlí/Jīn Zǐxuān, Jiāng Yànlí & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn & Wēn Qíng, Lán Qǐrén & Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Qǐrén & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Lán Qǐrén, Jiāng Yànlí, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Sū Shè | Sū Mǐnshàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Jīn Zǐxuān, Niè Huáisāng, Jīn Zǐxūn, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín

Additional Tags: Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Past Character Death, Future Character Death, Timey-Wimey, Truth, Honesty, Guilt

Summary: Being in the Cloud Recesses facing his fifteen-year-old self, surrounded by other fifteen year olds, many of them long dead in his time, is… sadly not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to him.

Notes: Partially inspired by For_Bantan_Things’ “Wangxian and Co. Do Time-Travel.” Also I wrote this instead of grading and on no sleep, and it’s not beta’d. So hopefully it reads decently. This is a one-shot. Also, the title is from a quote by the Dalai Lama.

AO3 link

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Being in the Cloud Recesses facing his fifteen-year-old self, surrounded by other fifteen year olds, many of them long dead in his time, is… sadly not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to him. Though it’s definitely strange to be looking at a young himself, who seems absolutely amazed and would likely be asking all the questions in the world if Lan Zhan wasn’t arguing with Lan QiRen currently. Young Lan WangJi looks vaguely constipated, but he knows that’s largely confusion.

Fortunately, Lan Zhan has explained enough to prevent QiRen from having a qi deviation, largely that they did not intentionally time travel, that this was an accident. But the old man is currently arguing over the immorality of changing the timeline, of them telling any of them anything, that they should be locked into seclusion until they can be sent back to where—or rather, when—they belong. XiChen is looking on with a vaguely bemused look.

“If I may?” Wei WuXian breaks in when QiRen pauses to take a breath.

Lan Zhan gives him a long-suffering look of resignation, and Wei WuXian takes that as acceptance. He knows his husband—it’s absolutely acceptance. He knows well enough that QiRen is unreasonable and needs a good shock to knock sense into him.

“Most of the people in this room are dead in the time we come from,” he announces.

The murmurs that had been passing between students die immediately, and QiRen takes his seat abruptly, looking like he’s been sucker-punched. Even young Lan WangJi looks distressed.

Wei WuXian starts pointing at people. “Jin ZiXuan. Dead.”

The peacock looks absolutely shocked, as though the idea that he could die has never occurred to him, it’s so beneath him.

There’s more to say. That his dad is awful in ways barely comprehensible and will try to become the next Wen RuoHan. That he has many half-siblings, some the product of rape. That one of those half-siblings plotted his death. But all of that can wait for now.

“Jiang YanLi.”

He has to pause to swallow hard here. He doesn’t dare look at her or young Jiang Cheng. Lan Zhan puts a hand on his arm, and it steadies him, but his voice still cracks at the next word.

“Dead. Your son orphaned. My fault. You sacrificed yourself to save me. I didn’t deserve it.”

“A-Xian!”

So much is wrapped up in her voice, so many emotions, but he knows she’s speaking in protest. He can’t bear to look at her, can’t handle her conviction that he would deserve her sacrifice, so he moves on.

“Jin ZiXun. Dead, but to be fair you grow up to like killing innocent women and children, so maybe deal with that.”

“Wei Ying.”

There’s a warning note in Lan Zhan’s voice, and he glances toward Jin ZiXun to see that the boy has started crying, and relents. He’s not yet a monster, maybe.

“To be fair, there was a war that happened, but you let your anger and arrogance take over after and killed refugees. Let’s try to be better, okay?”

The kid nods, and Wei WuXian moves on.

“Nie HuaiSang, your brother’s dead. Artificially provoked qi deviation.”

He glances at the boy and isn’t surprised to see that though he’s wide-eyed, there’s some calculation going on in those eyes. Good.

“Su She. Dead. But like with Jin ZiXun, you’re kind of awful when you die. Sorry.”

Su She is scowling at him, and Wei WuXian fixes him with a hard look.

“You feel disrespected and looked down upon. I get that. But you’ll die unmourned if you keep on your path of resentment.”

The kid looks down, and he can see him biting his cheek, clearly at least thinking. That’ll do for now.

“Jiang Cheng.” He lets his voice gentle. “In the coming war, Lotus Pier burns. The only three who make it out are you, Wei Ying, and YanLi. Your parents, dead. All the disciples, dead. Your core gets melted by Wen ZhuLiu.”

He’s not surprised by the gutted look on Jiang Cheng’s face.

“War?” XiChen asks. He looks vaguely sick.

“I’m getting to that. But Cloud Recesses burns at the start of it. Many of the disciples, massacred. Your father dies. Master QiRen, you’re injured and I don’t know if you ever truly recovered.”

He glances at Lan Zhan for confirmation, and he nods. He doesn’t dare look at the Lans.

“Wen Qing. Dead. Your brother also died, but I brought him back as a conscious fierce corpse and so he’s still undead-living. You died later. Oh, and basically all the Wens are dead. Wen RuoHan starts a war, and it ends in the annihilation of QishanWen and basically a genocide of anyone with the name Wen. That’s where his lust for yin iron leads.”

Wei WuXian has noticed her looking at him in a calculated way, but this leaves her open-mouthed and clearly horrified. She values her brother above everything, and he knows learning Wen Ning died has shaken her.

“I did try to save your family, but only one child survived,” he tells her softly.

She needs to know, and he hates to have to tell her that her sacrifices to keep them safe will come to naught.

“Ah, and by the way. That theory you have about core transplants is absolutely possible.”

She looks away, as though she knows there’s only one way he could know that.

“Core transplants?” Jiang Cheng interrupts. “How would you know about that?”

Wei WuXian smiles at him. From the tone of his little brother’s voice, he suspects.

“Your core was melted. How do you think?”

“You! Wei WuXian!”

It’s almost hilarious to see Jiang Cheng trying to decide whether to be mad at young Wei Ying or him—the one who would do it or the one who did. YanLi’s hand on his arm stops him, seems to calm his natural impulse to punch one of them.

More uncomfortable, though, is dawning realization and horror he sees on several faces, including the young Lan WangJi, who looks at young Wei Ying in what is almost a possessive way.

Ah, how had he missed all the obvious clues for so many years?

Weirdly, QiRen is looking between himself and Wei Ying oddly… Is that respect? 

To avoid dealing with that, because he absolutely cannot handle QiRen looking at him with anything but disdain, he looks at Wei Ying. His younger self has already clearly understood how much he’s going to lose, what he’s sacrificed, and goes rigid at his attention, fearing the worst is yet to come.

He’s right.

“Wei Ying. Thrown into the Burial Mounds without a core. To survive, resorted to demonic cultivation. War hero, but feared, and so things went pretty badly after. Dead for sixteen years. Brought back by a soul sacrifice summoning spell.”

There’s open horror on Lan WangJi’s face now, and Wei Ying looks shattered, slipping from his relatively proper sitting position to lean heavily against his desk. Jiang YanLi scrambles to him, and Jiang Cheng… He’s seen him cry before, but never in public until now.

Wei WuXian leans against Lan Zhan, abruptly exhausted. He manages a smile when his husband puts a comforting arm around him, but it’s mostly because young Lan WangJi’s ears go bright red, his lips parting with realization. He hopes it softens the horror of what he’s revealed of the future so far.

He wants so badly to tell them it will eventually be okay, that they’ll be happily married and having a lot of really amazing sex, but now is absolutely not the time, and he suspects QiRen would actually have a qi deviation if he said that. Maybe later, to Wei Ying and Lan WangJi alone, with Lan Zhan.

“I’ve only scratched the surface. More of you are probably dead, but my memory’s shit and I was dead for sixteen years, so…”

He finally turns back to QiRen.

“Still think it’s unacceptable to change the timeline, or can we get on with it?”

The look of absolute contempt he gets from QiRen is so normal he almost wants to laugh. He’s challenged the old man’s rigidity in a way that can’t be fought, and of course he’s pissed about it.

Wei WuXian lets himself relax, just a little. The time travel was accidental, but maybe, just maybe… they can make things right.

#the untamed #untamed fanfiction #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #chen qing ling #cql #lan zhan #lan wangji #lan xichen #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan qiren #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #jiang wanyin #jin zixuan #jin zixun #su she #su minshan #wen qing #wen ning #wen qionglin #nie huaisang #my fanfiction

[boat-full-of-lotus-pods]

MDZS Chapter 98. “A Hatred for Life[1]” Part 1

The fight against Jin GuangYao commences

With Wen Ning sprinting along, Wei WuXian led them straight to the Guanyin Temple in the middle of the city. When he and Lan WangJi had scouted out the layout of the temple during the day, they had planned to come investigate it further at nighttime, breach the array in the temple, find out exactly what was sealed within it, and see if it could be used against Jin GuangYao. However, not only had Wei WuXian slept all the way till five in the afternoon, but ‘that’ had also happened soon afterwards. Thus, their original plan was completely ruined. Right now, with all the pent up frustration within him looking for outlet, Wei WuXian was itching to stir up some trouble for Jin GuangYao.

It was deep into the night and the city was quiet. It was already past curfew for most households, and the gate of the Guanyin Temple was shut. Looking from outside the temple’s walls, the inner courtyard appeared pitch black. Wei WuXian leaped up the wall in two strides. Right before he reached the top of the wall, however, he suddenly paused and thought, ‘Something’s not right.’

Wen Ning paused as well, and said quietly, “There’s a barrier here.”

Wei WuXian made a hand gesture to Wen Ning and the two of them landed soundlessly back down on the ground. Leaving the gate, they circled to the Guanyin Temple’s back. Finding an inconspicuous corner, they carefully scaled the wall. Hiding behind a roof beast[2], they peeked at the courtyard below.

Just one glance and they were both stunned.

With all the lights and fires burning bright within, the Guanyin Temple was filled with people. Half of the people were monks. The other half were cultivators dressed in robes of Sparks Amidst Snow. The two groups were standing mixed and mingled. Some were holding bows, others had swords in their hands. Alert and vigilant, they seemed to be guarding something, and periodically exchanged words with one another. However, since the entire perimeter of the Guanyin Temple had been bound by a special barrier, the temple within appeared pitch black and dead quiet from outside the temple’s walls. None of the light or noises carried beyond the barrier.

But what had stunned Wei WuXian wasn’t the barrier, the cultivators or those fake monks. What had stunned him was the man dressed in white standing in the middle of the courtyard.

Lan XiChen.

Lan XiChen was not restrained in any way. Even his sword and his xiao[3], Liebing[4], were still  strapped by his waist. Standing amongst the group of people calmly, the other cultivators and monks all seemed to be treating Lan XiChen with dignity and respect, even answering to his every word.

After observing for a while, Wei WuXian said to Wen Ning quietly, “Go back to the inn right now and bring HanGuang-Jun here immediately!”

Nodding, Wen Ning disappeared at once. Jin GuangYao was nowhere in sight, and Wei WuXian had no idea if he was here or not, and whether if the Stygian Tiger Seal was in his hands. Thinking, Wei WuXian bit his own finger, breaking the skin, and held his bleeding finger to the mouth of the Spirit-Trapping Pouch by his waist. He was planning to lure out a few small ghosts to help him summon over some evil beings in secret. Little had he expected to suddenly hear a series of dog barks coming from the end of the street beyond the Guanyin Temple’s walls.

Wei WuXian was immediately scared witless.

Blinding terror ripped at him from within as he fought the urge to flee for his life. Trembling, Wei WuXian hugged onto the roof beast tightly. As the dog’s barking drew closer and closer, terror engulfed Wei WuXian’s heart. ‘Save me, Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, save me!’ He couldn’t help but repeat this in his heart like a mantra.

As if drawing courage from the thought and the name in his head, Wei WuXian forced his shuddering self to remain calm. He prayed to the Heaven and the earth for the dog to be a masterless, orphaned dog that would quickly wander away, but fate was less kind than he had hoped. Along with the dog’s barks came the voice of a young man, saying, “Fairy, shut up! Do you want to wake up this entire street in the middle of the night?!”

Jin Ling!

Lan XiChen became startled at once. Those cultivators from the Lanling Jin Sect probably all recognized the voice of Lanling’s Young Master. Exchanging looks among themselves, they drew their bows, arrows ready. Jin Ling’s voice quickly grew closer and closer, and it wasn’t long before he was right outside of the Guanyin Temple’s gate, saying, “Shh! Shh! If you bark again I’ll stew you! ......Where exactly are you bringing me?”

Wei WuXian’s heart leaped through the moon over a thousand terror, ‘Jin Ling, you unlucky child! Hurry up and leave this place!!!’

But Jin Ling stopped right outside the Guanyin Temple’s gate, and Fairy was still howling madly, seemingly roaming in circles and pawing at the ground and the wall. Confused, Jin Ling asked, “It’s here?”

A moment of silence later, he actually knocked on the gate, asking, “Is anyone here?!”

Within the courtyard, all the cultivators were attentive and high-strung. With arrows drawn on their bows, they aimed at the gate, holding the bowstring tight, waiting for an order. Lan XiChen said quietly, “Don’t hurt him!”

His voice wouldn’t carry outside of the barrier, yet no one lowered their guard or their bow. Jin Ling seemed to have sensed the peculiarity of the place as well. Even if there were no night guards by the temple’s gate, someone ought to have been woken up already by those thundering, banging noises he had made against the gate. It made little sense for the temple to still be engulfed in silence. Thus, Jin Ling stopped making noise. Just as Wei WuXian was about to let go of the breath of air he’d been holding, a wave of barks was suddenly heard from outside the walls again. Jin Ling’s voice was filled with irritation, “Hey, why are you heading back all of a sudden?!”

Wei WuXian was delighted, ‘Good Fairy!!!’

Jin Ling yelled, “Fairy! Come back! Fuck!”

Wei WuXian prayed in his heart, ‘My little lord, just hurry up and get out of here with your dog!!! I beg of you!!!’

Yet, a few moments later, the almost unnoticeable rustling sound of rocks and powder could be heard. At first, Wei WuXian couldn’t identify what the sound was. A moment later, he was suddenly drenched in cold sweat, ‘Shit, that little brat’s climbing the wall!’

The moment Jin Ling reached the top of the wall, he was confronted by an entire courtyard of bows drawn and aimed at him. His pupils shrunk instantly. One of the monks had either never seen Jin Ling before or had already prepared to annihilate any and all intruders. The monk released his bowstring and the arrow soared towards Jin Ling!

Hearing the distinct, crisp sound that the bowstring had made in the air, Wei WuXian knew right away that the wielder of the bow possessed exceptional skills. If the arrow were to reach Jin Ling, it’d pierce through his chest and break his bones for sure. Right now, there was only one thing that Wei WuXian could use a projectile to block the arrow for Jin Ling. With no time to hesitate, Wei WuXian leaped onto the wall and cast it into the air, shouting, “Jin Ling, run!”

The thing he had cast out was the bamboo flute he’d been carrying with him ever since he’d returned to life. It collided against the arrow, shattering into pieces upon impact, and knocked the arrow off its course. Jin Ling’s figure disappeared from the wall. He’d probably ran away. Meanwhile, since Wei WuXian had exposed his position, more than a hundred arrow flew his way like a wave of sharp rain, turning the roof beast he was hiding behind into a spiky hedgehog. Wei WuXian silently praised his luck of having something to hide behind. None of these people had poor aim and their cultivation were likely also not bad. Whether Jin Ling could successfully outrun these people still remained a concern. Leaping down the wall, Wei WuXian made a loop with his fingers and was just about to blow a whistle when he heard a laughing voice behind his back, saying, “I would advice Young Master Wei otherwise. A shattered flute is no big deal, but a severed finger or tongue would be a lot more uncomfortable.”

Putting his hand down, Wei WuXian agreed, “Very reasonable advice.”

The person responded, “Shall we?”

Wei WuXian nodded and remarked, “Sect Leader Jin is too kind.”

Jin GuangYao smiled and said, “It’s only proper.”

They circled around the temple’s grounds on foot as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Upon arriving in front of the main temple, Wei WuXian was speechless.

The gate of the temple was already open. As expected, Jin Ling had not succeeded in escaping. Held at sword point by a few monks, he hesitated for a moment before calling, “Youngest Uncle.”

Jin GuangYao simply replied, “Hey there, A-Ling.”

-

Footnotes:

[1]: Hensheng: 恨生, the name of Jin GuangYao’s sword. Broadly means “hate life”. Not sure if this suggests a hatred for his own life, a hatred for living itself, or a hatred for other people who are alive.

[2]: Roof beast: 檐兽 are a type of Chinese roof decoration located on the ridgeline of a building’s roof.

[3]: Xiao: 箫 or 洞箫 is a Chinese instrument shaped like a vertical flute.

[4]: Liebing: 裂冰 is the name of Lan XiChen’s xiao. Broadly means “cracking ice”.

-

Edited: @light-salami thanks for finding the typo!

#魔道祖师 #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #novel translation #my translation

[taotrooper]

In fine feather: chapter 1

On AO3

Title: In Fine Feather Characters: Mainly Wei Wuxian. In this chapter, Jiang Fengmian, Jiang Yanli, and Jiang Cheng Pairings: eventual wangxian down the road Genres: Wingfic, Fantasy AU, Youkai AU (sorta), Modern AU with Magic, Fish out of Water, Family Dynamics, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Adopted Siblings, Changelings, Misunderstandings, Coming of Age, Slice of Life Summary: Wei Ying thought he was a normal orphan boy until one night, while still a child, a pair of black wings burst out from his back. After he discovers he's a member of a race of spirits and is taken by a family of winged beings, he has to adapt to a new culture and species which isn't easy. Always charming and clever, he gets to heal his traumas and be loved by his new relatives, he learns how to fly and cast magic spells, he makes friends with other kids his age, he confuses everyone with his references from the human world. Most importantly, he learns his own worth. And much later as he grows, he finds love in a friend, and eccentric ways to bridge the mystical mountains with the good things he left behind Notes: CW references of children being violent and abusive towards another kid. It's not that graphic, and beyond the first couple of chapters I doubt this will come up again, but still merits a warning

When little Wei Ying came to his senses, he wasn't on the ground anymore.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a clear night sky and stars that flickered like freckles of light in infinity. It was daytime when he had fallen asleep in a forgotten corner, in a lonely alley, yet this wasn't the strangest part. How was he even seeing so much sky, not blocked by a single building or part of a ceiling? Yet no, it was all wide and endless.

The cold wind hit his face immediately; it made his back pain worse, but it refreshed his burning skin. He was moving somehow and his body was slowly swaying up and down like a boat. He then realized there were arms that held him tight, on the crook under his knees and carefully around his shoulders.

He couldn't see the face of the person well. By the size, it had to be an adult. Alarmed, the boy tried to get away —which hurt plenty, in his state—, but when he looked below he changed his mind and froze his brusque movements.

He saw shiny city lights below. Not only that, they looked distant: he was meters and meters above the land. Neither ground to stand on or feet were visible.

Scared and too sore to jerk again, he raised his head to take a look at what he imagined was a kidnapper. The face was obscured by the darkness, but he could perceive two things. First, long hair and broad shoulders. That wasn't much to work with, but the next observation made him forget these features.

Something flapped behind the figure. Wings! Wings like a bird's on his back!

"Relax," a soothing masculine voice came from the face's direction. "Don't stir or you'll fall. You're safe now."

Was this real or a dream? Was this a delirium from his fever? Was this a personification of death coming for him?

Or was this man... someone like him?

The arms still retained his back, still made indirect contact with the fuzzy origin of his pain.

Wei Ying was too weak to ask, too sleepy to worry, too sick to think. He closed his eyes again without noticing, and dozed off for the rest of the flight.

*****

The next time the boy opened his eyes, he was on a soft bed and lying on his stomach. Sunshine filled an unknown room and birds could be heard singing outside. His head, propped upwards by a tall pillow underneath, felt lighter and refreshed. His back still pulsed in a deaf pain, but not remotely as severe as before. There was a pressure that restricted his movements: he felt the bandages across his torso and backside that someone had dressed him with. He also wasn't wearing his dirty ragged clothes or blanket anymore, but some sort of flowing robes with big sleeves.

He tried to turn on his side to get up, but it was uncomfortable. They had bandaged those things too, completely immobilized.

Still partially asleep, and not knowing exactly what had happened to him and what had been a dream, he felt goosebumps across his arms and panic swirling in his stomach. Was he in danger? Should he run away? Could he run away?

He didn't need to make a choice, since the door opened slowly and a girl came inside with a tray in her hands and a smile on her face.

She was probably a couple of years older than Wei Ying. She had long hair braided in two elaborate buns and wore a pretty hanfu dress. But what really drew Wei Ying's attention was the two feathered wings folded behind her back. They were of a beautiful shade of purple, iridescent feathers like a hummingbird's.

"Oh, you're awake!" she beamed, as though Wei Ying was someone precious and him being there was a blessing. That confused him, but his defenses immediately went down against his will with her aura. "Hi, how are you feeling?"

"...Better?" The boy rested his chin on the pillow to see her with more clarity. Then he waited until she grabbed a chair and sat down, resting the tray on her thighs. She put a hand on his forehead, like Miss Shu used to do to measure temperature when someone had a cold. "Uh, who are you? Are you an angel?"

The girl tilted her head. "Oh, sorry, you must be so confused. My name is Jiang Yanli and it's very nice to meet you! What's an angel?" She put down the lid on top of a ceramic bowl. A good, comforting smell reached his nose. "You must be starving, the poor thing. Please don't get up or move from there, I'll feed you."

Jiang Yanli grabbed a spoon and took a spoonful of soup towards Wei Ying's mouth. He lifted his torso as much as he could and opened his jaw wide. It was the most delicious broth he had ever had. She giggled after seeing his satisfied expression.

"Let me explain. My father found you and took you home three days ago."

"So that winged man was real!" he gasped.

"Of course he was." She kept refilling the spoon and giving Wei Ying more food. He licked his lips after each time. "You had a fever and an infection and one of your wings was broken. Well, still is. The doctor said you have to stay in bed until it heals."

"But I'm..." He swallowed his original argument along with the lotus root he was offered since it was moot: they had those things on their back, just like he did. They wouldn't think of him as a monster if they were just the same as him, right? But was he even worth staying in such a pretty house? They even called a doctor. They were spending money on him. Assuming they used money at all.

"No buts. Please be a good kid and rest. Here, drink this medicine."

Softly but firmly she gave him an elixir that was also on the tray. It was bitter and ruined the taste of pork and lotus roots in his mouth.

"Um," he finally said. "I don't have any money or gold or bird seed or whatever you use. I can't repay you. Is it really okay that I stay?"

Without saying a word, Jiang Yanli placed her hand on Wei Ying's head and caressed him, tousling his short dark hair with her fingers. He felt a pang in the chest that was unrelated to the tight bandages, and before he knew it he felt tears running through his cheeks. How embarrassing.

"Don't worry about that. Just focus on getting better, okay? If you need to cry, go ahead. I won't tell anyone!"

She kept comforting him for a while until he let go of all the sadness and loss he had felt in the last week or so.

"Thank you, big sis. You're so kind," he said between sobs, moved. "Are you sure I didn't die and this isn't Heaven?"

"Not at all, you're in Yushan, the Feather Mountains," she said with a serious tone but still with a smile.

These bird people aren't really that good at names, Wei Ying thought. Then again, the same could be said of him, as he remembered how he called his old toys. Maybe that's where he got it from.

"Dad should be back in the evening." She raised the tray and got up. "He knows the whole story and he'll be better at explaining everything. So just rest and sleep until he returns."

"Okay, okay. Got it. I'll be a good boy for big sis. And the soup was the best I've ever had!" He also smiled.

"You're already a good boy, A-Xian. See you later, okay?"

After a pat on the head, Jiang Yanli left him alone in the big room with more questions than answers.

"Wait, why did you call me A-Xian?" he asked out loud.

He felt like the room, so illuminated and warm while the girl barged in, suddenly turned darker with her absence.

*****

Wei Ying didn't notice when he had fallen asleep again. The then almost familiar pain kicked in at full force again and he bit his lip. He realized he was probably given a painkiller and the effect must have passed already. He felt sharpness like knives where the wings met his back's open skin, and even the most infinitesimal move in his body made him wince. It made sense, though. Those were deep cuts after all. Even if these bird people had patched it in, it was still a wound.

The broken wing also throbbed underneath the bandages, but it wasn't as bad as his back.

The boy was bored out of his mind. All he could do was examining the room from his fancy bed. The furniture, the window, the door, it all looked old-fashioned and traditional. There were no electric lamps or appliances, much less a TV set or a radio to entertain himself with. Even hospitals had those sort of things. This patient was going to die from a different condition if he couldn't find a distraction.

All he could do was reliving that night in his head, over and over. The agony and impotence at the pain. The blood he couldn't see but felt dripping down his back. The terrible sensation of those things bursting out of his flesh, his skin and muscles feeling like torn part by the new limbs all of a sudden. The deafening screams got louder as bones he shouldn't have grew and formed, covered in bloodied feathers.

The faces of horror and nausea of his roommates and friends echoing and amplifying the emotions in his chest. Yells, tears, hands dragging him out of the bunk bed. Poor Miss Shu, staring with wide eyes and covering her mouth with her hand before running to call for help, not knowing what was going to happen when she left them alone. Then... the insults, the punches, the kicks coming from the older boys. The pain getting worse, not only on his back but in his heart. Escaping as fast as he could.

Even inside that room, even after he met others like him, he couldn't shake that fear and hatred away yet. Every pang since that night was a reminder he was not human anymore. Had he even been a human being at any point, he wondered?

Oh well, he couldn't do anything about it if he was a monster. At least he wasn't the only one!

Later in the afternoon, the door opened again.

A child around his age charged in, his posture upright as if he owed the place. Or at least Wei Ying though he was a boy because of his outfit and scowl, since his hairstyle —long and tied in a bun— was not something he had seen yet in children of his gender outside of TV. While he also wore hanfu clothing, they looked masculine and he was wearing trousers unlike Yanli and her flowing dress. Everything and everyone in that house seemed like they came out of a period drama.

But that wasn't the most shocking part about the kid: He had no wings.

"Huh? There's a human here?" Wei Ying blurted out and blinked.

The boy in hanfu reacted as though he had been slapped in the face.

"What did you say? Who are you calling a human?!" the boy cried.

"Well, aren't you? I mean, you don't have wings like that guy and that girl."

The boy rushed to stand in front of Wei Ying's face and crossed his arms.

"I see, so you're not only rude and dirty but stupid as well."

"What? Why? Who are you calling stupid?"

It was Wei Ying's turn to pout and get annoyed. Why was he the rude one when the other boy was the one insulting his intelligence? In fact, he had been one of the cleverest kids in the House and prided himself from not having to study much or at all for most tests. He had the multiplication table memorized up to 12 perfectly.

"Don't call me a filthy human or I'll break your other wing!! I'm as much as a dianshen as you are. Even more!"

Wei Ying blinked again. "I'm sorry, a what now?"

"That's the name of our people." The boy rolled his eyes. "You really don't know anything, do you?"

"Ah, I thought we were just bird monsters or demons or something." He hadn't heard the words well, but the first part sounded like heaven, tian, and the second as god or spirit, shen. "Are we... gods?"

"Hmph, do I have to explain even that to you? No, we're not gods, but we're so much more than humans. We're high-leveled spiritual beings."

"Oh, spirits? Like fairies and crap?"

"Yes, but we're much cooler than the other fairy species." The boy grinned and raised his chin.

Wei Ying hummed. Well, it was nice to be told exactly what kind of creature he was. "Okay. But if you're one of those tianshen things..."

"DIANshen!" The kid stomped his foot. "Spirit of the mountain summon!"

"Yeah, whatever. Show me the characters later. If you're one of those, then why don't you have wings?"

The boy hit his forehead with his palm.

"No one is born with them, idiot. You didn't have wings until now, remember? We grow them when we're between 9 and 11."

Suddenly everything made sense. He was nine years old. "...Ah! That's why!" Instinctively, Wei Ying tried to rise up, and he felt a terrible cramp in the wound at the root of his wings.

The boy suppressed a snicker and sat on the chair by the bed. "I should wing any time soon, in any case. And mine will be stronger than yours."

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say." After that boast, even though he didn't like his wings at all and one had been broken, Wei Ying wanted to accept that challenge just to show him. In any case, the guy being all proud at tiny things was cute, and insults aside he was amusing when he was angry. Wei Ying wouldn't mind becoming his friend, considering he had lost all of his previous ones. So he smiled at him as warmly as he could with his backache killing him. "Hey, let's start this again. I'm Wei Ying. What's your name?

"Jiang Cheng, courtesy name Jiang Wanyin."

"Ah, Jiang like Jiang Yanli, the cute sweet sister with the delicious soup."

"Yanli's my big sister." Jiang Cheng seemed pleased by the fact Wei Ying liked her.

"Ah, you're the young lord of the house? Ahahaha! Nice to meet you, Jiang Cheng."

"Can't say the same, you're kind of rude and dumb."

"Pffft. Don't be such a sour bird."

It took Wei Ying a big effort, but still lying down he reached out with one arm, hoping to shake hands with the other boy. Jiang Cheng just stared at the offered hand and didn't take it.

"See, to me that's rude," Wei Ying retorted without losing his good humor.

"What do you want me to do? Stretch my arm too?"

Wei Ying suddenly understood the problem. That was a modern human custom imported from the West. Of course these vintage Chinese fairy bird spirits would not know how to deal with it.

"Ah, right. Grab it and squeeze it," he explained. Jiang Cheng sighed and did as told, and let Wei Ying move his hand up and down a couple of times.

"That's a bit silly," Jiang Cheng said. "Besides, you're the one who should learn how to greet our way."

"Of course, I'll do that. But for that you gotta teach me how, dude," Wei Ying beamed wider.

The boy closed one hand in a fist and touched his other hand's open palm with it. Then he made a bow. It looked incredibly old-fashioned from Wei Ying's point of view, just like the decoration and the clothes.

"Pardon my manners. I want to do it, but I'm in pain and I don't think the bandages would let me bow," Wei Ying said with honesty.

Jiang Cheng glanced at Wei Ying's back even though it was covered by the bedsheets. It looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end he sighed and never did.

"I should get going," he muttered instead. "I have a lesson coming up now and I'll be late."

"Aww, too bad. Can't you skip class? I'm so bored here... And I need help to pee..."

Jiang Cheng shook his head. "I'm not getting in trouble with my mother for someone this dumb. And I doubt I can get you up! I'll send someone to help, pain killers, and a book because you certainly need more culture."

"Thanks, dude. Do you dianshen have comic books?"

"I have never heard of those," Jiang Cheng got up.

"Fine, a normal book will do. I actually like those too, believe it or not. Thank you for everything, young master." Wei Ying tapped his palm with his fist without folding his arms or bowing, the best he could.

"You're learning fast." Jiang Cheng's grin as he opened the door felt less cynical than before.

*****

It wasn't until the sun was setting down that he met the enigmatic winged man again. He arrived with a bright lamp which he set on a table. Wei Ying wondered how it worked, since a candle would be dimmer and he doubted they had any electric batteries.

"Good evening, young master Wei" he said as he sat at the border of the bed to check on the bandages. "I heard you finally woke up."

If his children looked like extras in a wuxia movie, that guy could be one of the main characters. His hair was long with parts tied up in a topknot and two perfect side braids. If the bird men had shampoo commercials, that length would be perfect for one. His outfit was quite fancy, too. His face was good-looking, but most importantly it irradiated serenity. Also, now Wei Ying could see his wings were violet. Not as shiny as Yanli's but the hue was still a cool color.

"Um, hello," Wei Ying stammered.

"Hello to you too, I'm happy to meet you at last." He gave him a tender smile. "My name is Jiang Fengmian and it's a pleasure."

"Same here." Wei Ying did his best to do as much of the greeting as he could.

"Ah, don't overdue it. I'm afraid you'll have to rest and move very little for days to come." Just as he had feared. Since the boy looked sad, Jiang Fengmian continued. "So I heard you already met my children. You seem to have caused an opposite impression on A-Li and A-Cheng."

With that comment, Wei Ying knew that Jiang Cheng had described him to his father as stupid and rude. He was not surprised. He wondered if he should say something to disprove it, like reciting the hardest multiplication tables, but he felt unusually shy around this person. And he had so many questions as well.

"A-Xian, you must be confused. Please tell me what's on your mind, and ask me anything you don't understand, no matter how small."

In that case... "Yeah, well. How did you find me in the middle of a city? Why did you save me? Where is this place? Why are you guys calling me A-Xian? How come the cameras on satellites have not caught dianshen flying on video?"

The man laughed, but not in a mocking manner.

"I cannot answer to the last one unless you give me a translation, but let's start with the others. Do you... Do you remember your parents?"

Wei Ying stirred inside the bedclothes. "Not really. When I was little, they found me with a wound in my head in the middle of nowhere. It was pretty weird. All I could remember was my own name. I was told they notified the cops but there was no report of a missing boy with my name or description, so I was sent to the closest orphanage." As he went through the earliest memories he held, he started to tie things together with the knowledge he was not human. "Did I, um... fall from the sky or something?"

"That was indeed the case," Jiang Fengmian sighed. "I can enlighten you but unfortunately it's not going to be a happy story."

It already wasn't, so Wei Ying shrugged.

"I knew you and your parents. Your father was Wei Changze and he was my best friend since childhood. Your mother was Cangse Sanren. They were good people and they loved you, their only child, very much. Your family liked to travel and meet new places. You were even born during one of those trips. I think your family was likely happy and free."

Wei Changze. Cangse Sanren. Wei Ying repeated the names in his head a few times, hoping he wouldn't forget again.

"But something happened," he said.

"As much as we can predict and sometimes even control the weather, sometimes it's too much even for us." Jiang Fengmian's face showed distress. "A hurricane knocked your traveling carriage over. We managed to track Changze-xiong's whereabouts but it was too late. Madam Cangse was found miles away and passed away before we could move her. But you, Wei Wuxian, were not near either of your parents' bodies. The whirlwind must have tossed you away from them and quite far, considering you ended up in a human city."

He felt chills down his spine. He wasn't expecting it to sound so tragic.

"Oh, there it is again. A-Xian, Wuxian. Why?"

"Our kind uses two names, my boy. Wei Ying was your birth name. Wei Wuxian was the courtesy name that your parents had chosen for you once you had your wings."

Jiang Fengmian took an object from his pocket and gave it to him. It was a silver bell with a red tassle, the three characters of his courtesy name engraved on its round surface. He twirled it between his fingers. Wei Ying's heart started to ache as an echo of his wings', for those parents he couldn't remember anymore.

"We couldn't find you until now. A dianshen's spiritual energy is not strong enough until we are truly complete. The tracking spell started to react as soon as you winged, as soon as you had magic in your body we could locate. I must apologize, though. I wasn't fast enough and had to wait until nighttime to search in town. You were hurt and sick."

Wei Ying opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

"Why do you apologize, sir? Just the fact you arrived is... I don't deserve this kindness."

"You do. And I owe it to my friends as well."

Jiang Fengmian ruffled Wei Ying's hair. Then he examined his broken wing more closely, with a serious expression.

"May I ask how it happened?" he inquired.

Wei Ying stiffened.

"Um, I don't remember well," he lied, "these days were a blur. It was totally my fault, though! I think I fell down on my wing and it twisted with the weight."

He just couldn't tell him the truth. What if this massive fairy bird man went to the House and tried to kick the boys' asses? Or even worse? He just couldn't allow it, no matter how cruel their treatment had been or if they deserved it.

Jiang Fengmian didn't look convinced, but he didn't push it. He just seemed lost in thought for a minute before he shook his head.

"You should be more careful, as newly formed wings are delicate." After covering Wei Ying's body with the bedsheets again, he got up. "Don't worry about anything, A-Xian. Your only concern should be staying put and resting so you can heal faster. Just say so if there's anything you want."

"Um, quick question. Is that lotus root and pork rib soup too expensive? Because that was really good."

"A-Li will be glad to hear!" Jiang Fengmian smiled. "There should still be more so I'll tell her to bring it to you for dinner."

"Okay... Ah! Can Jiang Cheng skip his stupid classes to come and hang out longer?"

"Ah, A-Xian, my wife won't allow it." That mysterious lady of the house was starting to scare him a bit. Every guy seemed determined not to upset her and that couldn't be a good sign. "I'll tell him to come by daily, but not at the expense of his lessons. Is that okay by you?"

"Probably not by him, but alright," Wei Ying laughed. Jiang Fengmian stared at him, stunned. It was probably the first time he had smiled at him. He returned it with a soft chuckle.

"Just be patient, boy. You'll get out of that bed soon."

Before he left the room, Wei Ying called him back: "Uncle Jiang?"

"...Yes?" There was a light in his eyes when he heard the way the boy had called him.

"I... Thank you very much for... dunno, everything. And sorry." His cheeks blushed.

"Don't mention it." The man smiled and closed the door.

Wei Ying stared at the silver bell and then collapsed his face against the pillow, letting out a groan of pain and annoyance. He felt burdened with wings he never asked for, a past he couldn't remember, and parents who hadn't abandoned him. Things were much simpler before he woke up.

Orphans usually have this dream. A dream that someday, a person who was a relative or connected to their parents would swoop in, assure them they had been loved, and take them to a big house with lovely people to live happy forever. So Wei Ying was a monster fairy spirit thing, sure, but that fantasy came true or so it seemed for the time being.

Then why didn't he feel happier? Why was he hollow inside?

And he had more questions than before! What kind of miracle had happened so he had survived a hurricane, and one that killed two adults, with only a head injury? Did he understand Mr. Jiang correctly and these birds had flying carriages? Tracking spells? Were his wings something that showed up in a fairy radar? Where did they get lotus roots and pork for that soup? How did that rectangular, traditional-looking lamp in the corner of the room even work?!

Was the Jiang family going to kick him out after his wings healed?

Putting the bell under his pillow, he just closed his eyes and took a nap until dinner time. His body and his heart were fragile and weaker than his mind. Unable to keep up with his confusing thoughts, he dreamed about old times when he could run and laugh with friends.

*****

Extra

A young man was sitting in front of a mirror and humming a song. Gray stormy eyes looked at his own hair while a comb danced through inky black that continued down to the middle of his back. He grabbed two tresses from each side of his head and joined them together, to then tie the hair between them all up in a half ponytail with a striking red ribbon. He looked at the result but, not satisfied, he undid it and started again. It took him three tries for the hairdo to look symmetrical.

He turned his head to each profile to make sure. Finally pleased, he stared at himself and practiced a wink and a seductive smile. Yet he couldn't stand it for long and ended up laughing at his own silliness.

"Good, now that's a handsome wuxia hero in a shampoo commercial," he teased himself for his vanity. He was wearing his favorite black and red flowing robes, the ones he affectionately called his 'cool leather jacket for bird fairies' —to most people's confusion.

Wei Wuxian went on a gait through the hallway. By then he had lived half of his life in that cozy big mansion in the mountains. Soul and wing had healed long ago even if there was still a tiny crack in both he did his best to ignore. He could still fly better and smile brighter than most people despite the crooked wing tip and sad memory that remained. All he could do was to embrace the past and forgive.

He reached the living room area where his two siblings sat in peace.

"Wei Wuxian, are you finally ready?" Jiang Cheng got up with a sneer. "Why do you either take like an hour to groom or just go outside the same way you got up in the morning, never in between?"

"The duality of man," he chirped. Then he turned around to the young lady. "Sis, do you want to come? We're having dinner with the gang in town. It'll be fun!"

"I'd love to, A-Xian, but I have a date tonight."

"Bring your peacock fiancé, then! The more, the merrier!"

"You always say that, but you end up almost punching Jin Zixuan every time," Jiang Cheng covered his forehead with his palm.

"Hey, there was one time when you almost did, too! Wen Ning is my witness that he had to stop us both from ruffling serious golden feathers."

"It was one time and he wasn't in love with her yet." He grabbed Wei Wuxian's shoulder. "Honestly, let them spend time alone. The less boyfriends my siblings bring, the less it ruins these relaxing nights."

"Bad news then: Lan Zhan is coming."

"The problem isn't him coming, it's you both acting annoying!"

Wei Wuxian wasn't planning to stop saying shameless things or displaying his affection just because his brother was embarrassed or possibly jealous. Besides, Lan Wangji was part of his social circle (or The Flock, as he liked to call his boys) regardless of their current relationship.

He pushed Jiang Cheng towards the front yard, hands on bright purple wings, ignoring protests.

"Let's not dawdle with your protests. Let's go, let's go!! Bye, sis!"

"Have fun, A-Cheng, A-Xian!" the girl smiled and waved goodbye.

"Hey sour bird, do we go downtown or do we go to the Nies' place first?"

"Screw Nie Huaisang, I say. He takes even longer to get ready than you."

"Fine, then let's leave..." A cheeky smile was on his face. "Last one who gets there is a winged monkey!"

Quickly, he spread his black wings and took off to the dusk sky. Behind him he heard Jiang Cheng's loud curse and the sounds of feathery flaps approaching fast. He chuckled and flew faster, not minding that the wind was tousling his hairdo.

Notes:

The dianshen (巔神, forgive me if it makes no sense in actual Chinese) are made up for this fic and don't really exist in Chinese mythology but take inspiration on several legends like mainly the Japanese tengu (which is why I tagged it as youkai even though it's not quite), with some of the Chinese shen, the fae, and even an air to Buddhist immortals. Yushan, obvious name and all, is an actual place in legends, though!

#mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #jiang fengmian #$fanfic #wing au