#wangxain

The last part of the Valentine series with the worst MXTX pick up lines ;D I asked you all for help here and in the end, I picked the worst proposal line in MDZS ;D

There is a fic I didn’t update in 3 years, I still love it but, yeah… I didn’t really plan to update it right now (I don’t have the time). I just received a comment who is kind of ‘simple’ just someone deducing what could some sentence mean and who the characters are talking about.

And you know what ? If it wasn’t for the fact that it’s 2:30 am (+ hello headache my old friend—) I would be in front of my computer and trying to write the next chapter just because of this comment. I would try to find some time ‘just’ because of a three sentence long comment.

just a little scene from a fic im drafting ~

He could hear the threads cracking beneath his fist as he yanked Wei Wuxian higher off the ground. Two tanned hands tapped at his own where he gripped the collar of those black robes. His brother had always had a talent for provoking him, and he couldn’t even remember how this argument started. Still, rage coiled hot in his gut. Zidian crackled at his wrist. His jaw ached from how tightly his teeth were clenched, barely holding back the vitriol he so desperately wanted to spit out.

The red anger clouding his vision only beginning to clear when he saw the semi glassy look of Wei Wuxian’s eyes. Jiang cheng took in the face of his brother, he had noticed too late the way his cheeks were slightly too pale, and the way redness was starting to tinge his under eyes. Too late, he realized this fight had long since veered from an argument between brothers.

When they were younger, Jiang Cheng was excellent at recognizing this look. Even when he pushed too hard, even when he refused to stop yelling, he knew when his brother was actually hurting. Sad. Never quite able to hide this from his shidi. 

But in this new body, he was slow to pick up on it, Jiang cheng released Wei Wuxian’s robes like he had been burned. 

Watching as he dropped onto the ground awkwardly. A pit growing in his stomach as he looked down at the man he had spent his whole childhood looking up at to yell. 

Suddenly Jiang Cheng felt small again. And all that irritated rage that had been bubbling up boiled over into a new rage. The hurt rage, the painful rage that was attached to blood and family. 

None of this would’ve happened if Wei Wuxian hadn’t invited him to Gusu.

The letter had arrived a week ago, scrawled in that messy handwriting. Jiang Cheng couldn't fault the man for at least attempting the impossible. Wei Wuxian wrote almost weekly since returning from the dead. Usually fickle stories of  night hunts, or rules he broke in Gusu. Occasionally he would include a nostalgic paragraph or two. Or ask after the Jiang clan. 

But this letter had been different. A request to come to Gusu. Not for a day or two like they'd attempted in the past, but for an entire month.

A joint night hunt conference. To be co-hosted by the Lan clan and the Jiang clan. A project designed, apparently, to "strengthen inter-sect bonds" after everything that had happened at Guanyin Temple. (Lan Wangji's words, no doubt.)

It made sense on paper. In the 2 years since the fall of Jin Guangyao the sects had been unstable. Trust was in short supply. Every alliance frayed thin, each one questioning which seemingly docile omega or outspoken alpha was hiding darker intentions.

But logic didn’t account for emotion. And Jiang Cheng had written back immediately: No. That the Lan sect could deal with a conference themselves. 

But in the coming days mail carriers from Gusu rained down on lotus pier, each with more letters then the last. And in a moment of weakness… here they were. 

The deal had been: Gusu this year, Lotus Pier the next. If, of course, they didn’t kill each other first.

“Jiang Cheng, look, why don’t you just—”

His voice grated against him. Of course his idiot brother couldn't shut his mouth even when he was already upset. Trying to smooth things over as if he wasn't the one that started this whole thing. 

Jiang cheng was trying not to completely lose his temper, he had always been quick to anger. But ever since he started raising Jin Ling he had made at least an effort to rein the worst of his outbursts in. Sometimes more successful than others. But in the last few months he was uncalmable, and now he could feel his throat straining as he yelled back 

“Don’t look at me like that!” he snapped, voice sharp enough to cut. “Don’t stand there pretending you're so calm, so fucking reasonable! You don’t know anything about—”

The redness under his brother's eyes only intensified but he stood still, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. 

And that made it worse.

Because somehow, somehow, his impulsive once alpha brother, revived as an omega for fuck’s sake, was still calmer than him. More controlled. More stable. Able to keep a better handle on his emotions and omega instincts then Jiang Cheng ever could and he's been an omega his whole life! 

Though he supposed (from what he's been taught) that mated omegas, especially those who were blessed enough to find their fated mate, had a much easier time regulating their instincts. And his brother, his brother whose fate is of the utmost convoluted nature ended up with both. While Jiang Cheng, was struggling with his suppressant regime as the last barrier between himself and the cultivation world. 

It's not that omegas couldn't be cultivators, in fact omegas had potential to be some of the strongest cultivators, much more so then a common beta, whose senses were so much weaker it made most nighthunts, and connections with the spiritual world twice as difficult. But omega’s were rarely allowed the dignity of authority. Omegas were those who bore legacy, those who kept morale high, those whose life cumulated with serving and soothing those more dominant then them. 

So when the Jiang’s had their first son, they’d hoped for an alpha. After their beta daughter, they’d prayed for a leader. But Jiang Cheng had presented early at fourteen, just after his brother, and his father had never looked at him the same again.

His mother, in her attempt at his best interest, had wasted no time. She locked him in his room with a jar of suppressants and strict instructions: Take it with a meal each morning. No exceptions, no missed days, no mistakes. 

And he obeyed. Every day, for well over a decade. Long past when anyone said it was safe. A medication frowned upon by the cultivation world. He obeyed and he pushed down every omegan instinct until everything inside him went silent. 

And it was for this reason that he couldn’t be surprised that after so much medicinal abuse of his instincts, all his hormones were out of sorts. His inner omega clawing out of its cage.

It was rage, it was volatile mood swings, exstream territorial tendencies, it was textbook feral omega. He had grown up with children teasing each other about it, or claiming an omega was so unwanted that they'd go feral, that no one could ever want a feral omega. And here he was actively creating one in the privacy of his own body. 

He never resented this choice, knew it would give him the life his parents wanted. It had allowed him to be an unquestioned sect leader, even if he was underestimated as a beta and not an alpha. So then why, why had he been feeling so damn lonely lately? 

His brother came back, his pack alive again, and all he felt was lonely. 

That first year, he’d ignored every letter out of spite. Lan Wangji hated him, and he hadn’t trusted Wei Wuxian not to leave again. But over time, he responded. Small missives. A visit or two. The beginnings of something like family again.

But no matter how angry he was, or how guilty he felt, Wei Wuxian kept reaching out to him. Trying desperately to make a spot for one and other in their lives. 

And fate might have other plans for them both but he could try, and so he was feeling particularly lonely when that ridiculous night hunt proposal arrived, and he came to Gusu

And all that came of it was this bullshit. 

The dust swirled beneath his boots as Jiang Cheng surged forward, shoving Wei Wuxian hard. He watched his brother stumble back. A frustrating wetness started to gather at the corner of his purple eyes.

And then, a growl. 

The commanding, cold, terrifying growl of an alpha who's been wronged. 

Suddenly a large hand wrapped around Jiang Cheng’s arm and yanked him backward. 

“Sect leader Jiang.” Lan Wangji’s voice was deceptively calm. If it weren't for the way his eyes glowed gold, the way all lan alphas did when their instincts were taking charge, Jiang Cheng might have mistook it for his regular speaking voice. 

Something in the back of his mind wanted to cower, but Jiang Cheng is one of the strongest sect leaders, he is a proud beta, the purple lightning protecting his people, and he will not bow to any Lan. Zidan crackled defensively at his wrist. 

“Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan!”

Wei Wuxian’s light hearted calling broke the static, the way his voice shook on the last word the only thing that gave away their reality. 

“It’s okay! Don’t get so upset, it’s just my little shidi. I teased him too much, that’s all! Just let him go!”

His little act of talking down his husband should have soothed him, and yet it only added more fuel to the fire. Jiang Cheng wanted to scream, and cry and stomp his feet like a petulant child. Because his once dead brother was still doing everything to protect him. Even when he knew that Jiang Cheng was the one to start this fight. 

On top of it all, for anyone, even a betta, to put their hands on a mated omega, that was grounds for a duel. At minimum. 

An apology wasn't on his tongue, but whatever was was beginning to taste like regret. He met Lan Wangji’s gaze, intent to speak, when—

“Enough.”

A new voice. Calm. Commanding. Soothing.

Lan Xichen.

Unlike his younger brother who moved with near deadly silence, most of the time one knew when Lan Xichen was coming. His clothes rustled like the wind stirring grass. And the jade token tied at his waist chiming softly with the few beads strung below it, so delicate it was almost as soothing as Jiang Cheng’s own clarity bell. 

Still Jiang cheng startled, blinking in disbelief at the looming ethereal presence before him. Of course, this was the Lan compound. And Lan Xichen was still their sect leader, technically. But as far as Jiang Cheng knew the older Lan had been in seclusion. For years. And yet here he was luminous, and composed,  and incharge. 

The iron grip on Jiang Cheng’s arm finally loosened, and he yanked it free, clenching his fists.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan Wangji said, voice sharp as a blade, “It would be best if you joined Xiongzhang in the library.”

“Fine.” Jiang Cheng grit out, before storming past him, barely missing knocking shoulders with the taller man. And he didn't stop to look at Lan Xichen as he passed him either. He didn't have any patience left for niceties. 

His boots struck the ground hard, each step disturbing the tranquil Gusu afternoon. But he wasn’t walking alone. Every one of his steps was being punctuated with that quiet chime of Lan Xichen in the distance. 

Slowly allowing the noise to settle his riled omega instincts until he finally reached the library pavilion.

“Allow me, Jiang Zongzhu,” came that voice again, deep and calm like heavy snowfall. Refreshing in the afternoon heat.  

And he finds himself stepping aside without protest. The larger man opened the door, welcoming him into the cool quiet library. It had been a long time since he was here, and it had changed so much since he was a child, both the building and what it contained. But it still smelled like sandalwood, and it still dwarfed any library Lotus Pier had ever built. 

Lan Xichen led them to a low table at the center of the room and gestured for Jiang Cheng to sit across from him. Watching carefully as those large hands began to pour him a cup of tea. 

He hadn't seen the older man in nearly two years and yet he looked much the same. His robes hung in soft layers over his broad shoulders. Carefully continuing their slope into muscular forearms. He kept his posture perfectly straight emphasising how tall he was even among the Lan’s.  His silky black hair had been brushed into a simpler hairstyle then Jiang Cheng remembered of him, but it still cascaded carefully around him, framing his form in all its Lan perfection.

And yet something was different.

His beautiful face graced by his sharp jaw, soft lips and surprisingly gentle eyes, was drawn thinner than Jiang Cheng remembered. Lan Xichen looked so much more tired than the man he had grown familiar with over the years. It aged him slightly, and yet reminded Jiang Cheng too much of his face during the reign of the Wen. Slightly too hollow. Slightly… unsettling. 

Jiang Cheng chewed the inside of his cheek to keep his opinions on this to himself. He didn't like it. But after everything that had happened, what else could he have expected? He hadn’t even expected to lay eyes on the man.

“I was surprised,” Lan Xichen finally spoke, “to hear you agreed to co-plan this night hunt with us.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes snapped back to the soft gold ones, embarrassed to realize he’d definitely been caught letting his gaze roam over every inch of the older man.

“Obviously I didn’t easily agree so much as get pestered into it,” he said sharply, chin lifting. 

Lan Xichen chuckled softly. “Don’t take it the wrong way,” he said, an unreadable glint in his eye. “It’s good to see a familiar face. Especially after so long in seclusion.”

“I hadn’t known you left it.”

“I haven’t left it entirely,” Lan Xichen replied, with the ghost of a smile. “Partial seclusion. I can still manage writing invitations, at least. Especially if Jiang-zongzhu is willing to assist me.”

Jiang Cheng’s mouth felt inexplicably dry. “Well. Let’s get it over with, then.”

He stretched a scroll of parchment out in front of himself, dipping his brush into the inkstone while Lan Xichen murmured the phrasing for each letter. They worked in companionable silence, copying names and titles with practiced strokes. Though if it were a competition, Jiang Cheng would have lost because just like all other pristine elements of the lan clan, their writing was obnoxiously perfect. 

They scripted out invitation after invitation. And Jiang Cheng couldn't help but let his mind wander, every few words his thoughts turned back to the man across from him, the shock of his presence yet to wear off. 

Sometimes when he had nightmares of his past, the face Lan Xichen made that night would linger in his mind too. The pain, the blood on his sword, the way he crumpled into a broken mess when all was said and through. The love of his life murdered at his own hand. 

Jiang Cheng had been quietly watching Lan Xichen his whole life, from the respectful distance of allied sects, from across conference halls, from the desks of Cloud Recess's lecture hall.  So it would have been hard to miss the way the older man looked so fondly upon the Jin disciple. 

Everyone had known, or at least suspected, that Lan Xichen had loved Jin Guangyao. Many whispered that they had been secretly mated, that Jin Guangyao simply hid the mark beneath the high collar of his robes. They always sought each other in a crowd. Leaned close when they spoke. And the great and honorable Zewu-jun would never tolerate a harsh or damning word against his sworn brother.

Jin Guangyao had been an omega. Loyal to his sect. And so, there was never any true way to marry outside his clan and preserve his dignity. Or at least that’s what everyone thought. Still, many expected them to eventually go public. A dominant alpha so clearly enamored with a brilliant, hospitable omega, an ideal mating.

But then everything happened at once. In the blink of an eye, Jin Guangyao was no longer  the son of a prostitute but a sect leader. With power came the need for image, and he took a wife. Untraditionally, it was another omega, raising eyebrows but also preventing any power imbalance. They seemed happy together. And to be honest although uncommon for two omegas to be together formally, it was more acceptable then two alphas, or an unmated omega, and so most did not question him too harshly. 

And in an even more unconventional show he bonded with her, and she had shown off her mark proudly like any sect leader's wife might. No one ever knew if his wife bit him back as was custom with omegas. He still wore his collars too tight, too high.

A gap between Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao seemed to grow and grow. Still Jin Guangyao looked happy in any public appearance, and Lan Xichen never showed interest in another omega or even beta. 

So when Jin Guangyao was exposed as a traitor, a murderer, and, in the end, was killed by the one man he claimed he would never harm… it wasn’t surprising that Lan Xichen retreated into seclusion.

It was said that a broken bond  between mates, especially soulmates, was an empty kind of grief. It left one split open and bleeding for one's whole life. There were ancient tales of fated mates dying in succession. It was always a romantic idea, to live and die with your love. But the reality of it was so much more bitter. 

Many feared Lan Xichen would waste away after the fall of Lianfang-zun. And in some ways, he had. Yet here he was. Very much alive. Sitting at this low table across him.

Jiang Cheng chose to blame his perseverance on his strong golden core and Lan will power. 

Well over an hour passed, and they’d finished the invitations for the major sects. For a while now Lan Xichen had been musing over who else he thought should receive an invite. Weighing pros and cons of different peoples from all over their lands. But to be honest Jiang Cheng hadn't been paying much attention to him since he mentioned the Jin clan maybe half an incessant stick ago. Just nodding and watching the way his lips formed around his words. 

“Zewu-jun. It’s good to see you. It’s been a while.” The words spilled out of him unbidden, and he realized too late that he had cut Lan Xichen off mid-sentence. That little surprised “o” of his mouth confirmed it. 

A red blush crept up Jiang Cheng’s neck at his own rudeness.They stared at each other awkwardly for a long moment before Lan Xichen’s expression warmed again. 

“Thank you. It has been too long, hasn’t it?” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Wangji asked me to help plan this conference. And, ah… I couldn’t say no to my little brother.”

Jiang Cheng huffed and sat back, forcing his eyes onto the half finished scroll in front of him. “Well then it seems we have something in common then. Except my insufferable brother didn’t ask. He sent a dozen damn letters like it was some kind of hostage negotiation.” he slapped his hand down on the table jostling their discarded brushed “And stop smiling like that,” he added, sharper than necessary. “This isn’t some grand reunion. We're working.”

Lan Xichen smiled at him then too, expression out of place with how rude Jiang Cheng knew he came off. But soon they were back to discussing whom to invite, and inking more letters, working together in comfortable quiet as the sun plunged from the sky.  Making way for the cold light of the stars. 

Only interacting when one passed a complete invitation across the table for the other sect leader to stamp on their official clan insignia before folding it neatly into the pile for couriers.

And maybe it was his imagination, but Jiang Cheng was fairly certain that as he worked those gold eyes were burning holes into him, and began glowing when they passed the other a letter and their hands brushed.

Lan Wangji heard Beyoncé sing “If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it” and took it to heart