An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Fandom: 琅琊榜 | Nirvana in Fire (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Relationships: Lin Chen & Lin Shu | Mei Changsu | Su Zhe, Lin Chen/Lin Shu | Mei Changsu | Su Zhe, Lin Chen & Lin Shu | Mei Changsu | Su Zhe & Fei Liu, Lin Chen & His Parents, Fei Liu & Lin Chen (Nirvana in Fire), Fei Liu & Lin Shu | Mei Changsu | Su Zhe
Characters: Lin Chen (Nirvana in Fire), Lin Shu | Mei Changsu | Su Zhe, Fei Liu (Nirvana in Fire), Lin Chen’s father (Nirvana in Fire), Lin Chen’s Mother, Xiao Jingyan, Mu Nihuang, Gong Yu (Nirvana in Fire), the Jiangzuo Alliance - Character, Various disciples of Langya Hall
Additional Tags: Don’t copy to another site, Heart Attack 2021, Family, Angst, Fluff, Worldbuilding, Non-Linear Narrative, Introspection, Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, the major character death is MCS, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, or at least not NOT canon compliant
Summary:
Lin Chen is a study in contradictions. A warrior and a healer. Neutral, unless it concerns Mei Changsu. Desperate to save his friend yet equally determined to respect his wishes.
A series of non-linear, interconnected stories starring Lin Chen set pre, during, and post canon.
Lin Chen hears the muffled commotion at the door, whispered orders and the faint protest. He doesn’t bother to turn around, only raising his jar of wine in greeting to the memorial tablet in front of him and taking a good swig of alcohol. There are several more jars scattered around his feet, some empty and some not.
“Bixia,” he greets lazily, hearing the footsteps approach. “I’m sure you’ll forgive me if I don’t bow – I’m not sure that I can at the moment without embarrassing myself horribly, and I’m sure that the consequences for vomiting on your Divine person far outweigh the mere sin of not bowing.”
“Young Master Lin,” Xiao Jingyan, Emperor of Da Liang, says, settling down on the floor beside him, as though he were still some common soldier and not the Son of Heaven himself, appointed by Heavenly Mandate to rule over the mortal realm. Lin Chen deigns to glance over.
Xiao Jingyan looks very much like he did the last time that Lin Chen saw him five years ago, having eschewed the regalia of the Emperor for a simpler set of robes. A little more tired perhaps, especially around the eyes, but otherwise unchanged. Quietly, solemnly, he takes three joss sticks and lights them in the brazier, placing them in front of the memorial tablet.
“I hear that you have another son,” Lin Chen says. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Xiao Jingyan replies with impeccable politeness. “His mother and I are proud of him, though I admit that he does have a talent for mischief – certainly I didn’t realise how much trouble a single child is capable of getting into, especially now that he has begun to walk.”
Xiao Jingyan speaks with the exhausted pride of any father, a smile on his face. He does not use the imperial pronoun ‘zhen’, instead choosing to present himself as Lin Chen’s equal. Lin Chen snorts, turning back to face the memorial tablet. No wonder he has left his guards at the door.
“So why aren’t you back with your sons and wives?” Lin Chen asks, “or, failing that, taking part in that ‘running the country’ business of yours? Can the Emperor be said to have free time?”
Xiao Jingyan shrugs – yet another gesture better suited to a common soldier – and Lin Chen feels a flash of annoyance at the fact that he remains unperturbed. He drowns that flash in more wine. “Free time? Perhaps not. The life of an Emperor is not his own, after all. But for just this one night, I think that I can be simply Xiao Jingyan.”
He reaches past Lin Chen to steal one of the unopened pots of wine, unstoppers it, and – after pouring a little before the memorial tablet as a libation – takes a deep drink. He pauses as soon as the liquid touches his lips, and then laughs.
“Xiao Shu hated this wine,” he says.
“So did Changsu,” Lin Chen his tongue only stumbling slightly at the emotions that his friend’s name evokes. He pours some more of the wine in front of Changsu’s tablet, smirking at the thought of that unamused, pinched look that his friend would give him. “He would go on about it. At length. Have you ever seen a wine merchant cry, bixia? Because I have. Several times. Though to be fair, at least one of those wine merchants was running an illegal gambling ring out of the back of his shop, so it wasn’t surprising that his taste in wine was equally abysmal.”
The wind changes outside, and smoke from the joss sticks blows into their faces, causing Lin Chen to cough uncontrollably.
“Hah,” he says, once he’s got his breath back, “typical Changsu. Can’t deal with a bit of light-hearted teasing.” The smoke has irritated his eyes and there are tears on his cheeks. He turns to the side and wipes at them roughly with his sleeve. He goes to take another gulp of wine only to realise that the pot is empty. No matter. There is plenty more wine.