xicheng marriage wip (i)
I hear JC antis are complaining that “JC stans from twitter” are posting canon-verse xicheng in the canon JC tag. I find this extremely puzzling because they seem to like their JC deranged, unhinged, and dealing badly with WWX’s death. I don’t understand why I should be excluded from this tag when I TOO like my JC deranged, unhinged, and dealing badly with WWX’s death.
So have the opening snippet of my ✨xicheng marriage of convenience✨ WIP, where the Lan elders try to void the wangxian marriage on basis of an old Confucian rule, stating that younger brothers cannot marry before older brothers — so JC offers himself up for a loveless marriage with LXC, and LXC (who is depressed and disillusioned after Guanyin Temple) agrees. They do not initially get along. DRAMA ensues.
---
After two wars, Lan Xichen thinks he can speak authoritatively on the matter — the bulk of the work always comes after the war.
This argument between Lanling Jin and a coalition of smaller sects has raged on for hours now, late into the night. It is far past Gusu Lan's traditional bedtime, and Lan Xichen can feel tiredness slowly beginning to chip away at his patience.
"I would like to advocate again for the open dissemination of the Yiling Patriarch's research notes," he says tiredly, for what feels like the fourth or fifth time that night. "Parts of his research have the potential to be used for good. Everyone should be able to benefit from his inventions."
A minor sect leader shoots to his feet. Sect Leader Yao is his name, Lan Xichen remembers suddenly. He does not remember the name with much fondness.
“But what of the parts that could be used for harm?!” Sect Leader Yao cries, appalled. “The common people cannot be trusted with such evil techniques! Not to mention that there’s a high risk of things going wrong if they are practiced incorrectly. How can these notes just be distributed so carelessly?!”
“And that’s why Lanling Jin is best suited to safeguard these techniques,” Jin Guangyao interjects, smiling. “We have a guest disciple who has the knowledge to interpret these notes, safely testing out the techniques until we can figure out which ones are safe enough for public use.”
Nie Mingjue, a hitherto quiet figure, finally lets out a cold laugh.
“You’re talking about Xue Yang,” he says.
Lan Xichen winces, sensing an oncoming argument
“Da-ge—” he begins placatingly.
“Your entire Jin Sect is a pit of vipers,” Nie Mingjue spits, “and I wouldn’t trust you with a dagger, let alone an entire manual of dangerous cultivation techniques.” He chuckles humorlessly. “When are you going to hand Xue Yang over for trial?”
Even though he does not address the question to anyone specifically, his eyes are pinned on Jin Guangyao. The other man drops his eyes, avoiding his gaze.
“My, my, Sect Leader Nie,” Jin Guangshan begins silkily. “Such venomous accusations. Won’t you give your sworn brother some face?”
Jin Guangyao stiffens at those words. After a moment, however, Nie Mingjue just scoffs, turning to the man sitting silently at his side.
“And you, Jiang Wanyin?” he questions sharply. “Do you have nothing to say?”
Everyone startles at that, turning to the young sect leader, having all but forgotten about his presence. He had been so quiet, so still, just staring vacantly at the table for the whole discussion. Even now, he does not even twitch, sitting still as stone.
“No,” he replies, monotone.
Nie Mingjue lets out a frustrated, disbelieving noise.
“You alone have veered the furthest from the demonic path,” he presses. “You alone have condemned it whole-heartedly, eliminated all that would misuse it. And now, you will not fight to safeguard these manuals from falling into the hands of unscrupulous others?”
When Jiang Wanyin still says nothing, Nie Mingjue leans in.
“Jiang Wanyin,” he hisses. “You have the strongest claim to his possessions. You will not fight?! He was your Da-shixiong! He was your brother! You have the right!”
There’s a crackle.
The flickering purple of Jiang Cheng’s ring casts a conspicuous glow in the dim room, painting his still features in eerie shadow.
“He was no brother of mine,” Jiang Wanyin says without inflection. “I lay no claim.”
Nie Mingjue sits back in his chair, seemingly backing down.
“Calm yourself, Jiang Wanyin,” he mutters. “You want no part in this? Fine. I’m not going to argue with you.”
At those words, the crackle dies, and the room eases a little. This, however, is apparently enough for Jin Guangshan to resume his machinations without fear.
“And yet,” he drawls, leaning back in his seat, “the young Sect Leader Jiang continues to hoard the most valuable piece of the puzzle. Is the ghost flute Chenqing not in your possession? Do you not guard it zealously at your Lotus Pier?”
Jiang Wanyin does not speak, and after a moment, Jin Guangyao reaches out to grip discreetly at Jin Guangshan’s sleeve.
“Father,” he murmurs worriedly.
“Don’t call me that,” Jin Guangshan snarls, flicking Jin Guangyao’s touch off with a wave of his sleeve. He does not even look at Jin Guangyao, eyes fixed single-mindedly on the other sect leader. “Is it even in Lotus Pier, Jiang Wanyin, or have you hidden it elsewhere?"
Jiang Wanyin’s gaze, previously fixed unmovingly on the table, raises slowly to meet Jin Guangshan’s eyes. Lan Xichen can’t help but feel a strange sense of foreboding. The young man in front of him had once been so easy to cow, always wary of offending his elders, always keen not to draw anyone’s ire, but now, he meets Jin Guangshan’s gaze head-on, without any hint of an apology.
"You have evaded all attempts to inquire of its whereabouts, all attempts to hold you to accountability," Jin Guangshan continues. "Do you really think you are above questioning?! Do you really think we will allow you to hold Chenqing indefinitely, without explanation, without justification?!”
Outside, the trees rustle briefly, disturbed by a sudden breeze. The gust flutters at the edges of the papers on the desk, setting the candles on the table violently a-flicker. The dancing candlelight lights Jiang Wanyin's face from beneath, his eyes flashing dangerously in its glow, but still, Jin Guangshan doesn’t seem to notice.
“We will not have another person holding onto dark weapons without any means of accountability,” he concludes. “We will not have another Yiling Patriarch!"
Lan Xichen blinks, and when he next opens his eyes, the long discussion table has tipped over, hitting the floor with a loud, thunderous crash. The candles on the table fall to the ground, lighting the scattered maps and notes on fire. With that, the room is thrown into sudden darkness, shadows flickering and flashing dizzyingly against the walls as several others begin to stamp out the fire, shouting in alarm.
Jin Guangyao’s shrill voice cuts through the din like a knife.
“Jiang Wanyin!” he screams.
Lan Xichen looks up to see Jin Guanyao falling backwards, knocked away by a fierce sweep of Jiang Wanyin’s arm. With the other hand, Jiang Wanyin has reached across the toppled table, and is gripping Jin Guangshan by the collar, all but lifting him off his seat.
“You want accountability?!” he hisses. “You want justification?!”
“Jiang Wanyin, stop this!” Jin Guangyao shrieks. He grabs Jiang Wanyin’s elbow, pulling at him with his whole body, but still, Jiang Wanyin will not be moved.
“Then let me tell you!” Jiang Wanyin thunders. “Chenqing is on my person! It is on my person right now, as it has been since I gained possession of it, and as it will be until Wei Wuxian returns to claim it!”
“You’re mad!” Jin Guangshan shrieks. “Claim it?! How?! He’s dead! Dead!”
“How would you know?!” Jiang Wanyin bellows, shaking Jin Guangshan violently by the neck. “Did you see him die?! Did you find a body?! There was no body! No bones! Nothing to claim— nothing to bury!”
“Let go of him!” Jin Guangyao screams, still pulling desperately at Jiang Wanyin’s arm as Lan Xichen rushes around the smoldering wreck of the table.
“Jiang Wanyin!” Lan Xichen hollers, grabbing Jiang Wanyin’s other arm. “Control yourself!”
Nie Mingjue leaps across the table as well. But in Jiang Wanyin’s mad rage, not even the combined efforts of three prominent cultivators can restrain him.
“He’ll be back!” he spits in Jin Guangshan’s face. “And when he finally comes for me, when he finally comes for his accursed flute— I’ll kill him, and kill him, and kill him dead!”
---
This memory is what plays in Lan Xichen’s mind, over and over, while Jiang Cheng bows his head, presenting a red letter in gold lettering.
“For my brother’s happiness,” he says tonelessly, “please accept my marriage proposal.”
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