𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄,

gentle laughter tinkles lightly into the night sky,   the stars laughing along with the pair in their own gleaming manner.   wei wuxian leans his side ‘gainst lan wangji’s with a huffy noise,   a distant look crossing o’er his visage.      “   lan zhan,   oh,   lan zhan.   ”      he starts quietly,   mirth dancing on his tongue whilst his chin tilts upwards to peer at the cultivator beside him.   a soft epilogue,   he rolls the phrase around within his mind   &   finds that he doesn’t mind such a thing.   after everything he has had to go through,   everything that he had been put through,   he does deserve a soft epilogue.   yet,   he stops to wonder how his life would have been if he had not been caught up in his so - called demonic way of life?   wei wuxian ponders on it during sleepless nights   &   desperately searches for answers which his helpless mind refuses to provide.   not an ounce of regret reaches out,   however,   &   if one were to ask if he would change anything about his life,   he would say he would not change a single thing.   another laugh,   though this one is notably quieter than the last   &   he sighs through his nose. 

looking up from his papers,   he furrows his brows before quirking one as a heavy frown curves onto his tanned features-   rumors?   his soldiers have rumors about someone he decided to make his second - in - command?   nie mingjue tuts audibly,   the sound thick with irritation.      “   my soldiers have the time to indulge in petty talk?   ”      right from the get - go,   his tone had been raised high   &   demanding,   almost toeing the line of falling into irrational anger at the thought of the soldiers under his watchful eye whispering amongst themselves about meng yao.   nie mingjue thinks about the boy that he had seen sitting to himself outside of the cave,   in avoidance of the others so as to never hear what they could be gossiping about,   &   it brings red - hot anger to the forefront of his mind.      “   it should not matter to you why or even how meng yao became my right - hand.   if you have the time to ask childish questions,   then it only tells me you must be done with training   &   wish to spar with me!   ”

bàxià trembles where it stays sheathed beside him,   unbeknownst to the sect leader’s eye,   clear as day irritation beginning to carve itself within the lines of his tensed expression.   his fingers curl around the edges of his table,   his form straightening out into a standing position.   at his full height,   nie mingjue stood intimidatingly taller than mostly everyone   &   a simple glare from his olive - tinted hues would have anyone running.   he remembers how meng yao had scrambled to stand   &   greet him with food still in his mouth,   how meng yao had cleaned up well each time,   how his conduct had been so pleasant that nie mingjue decided to prove everyone else wrong about those rumors   &   presented him as his second - in - command in that cave.   even after such a promotion,   it seems that nothing has changed   &   only the whisperings within the qinghe nie sect have grown in size.   nie mingjue’s lips twitch,   frown seemingly beginning to permanently carve itself into his features.      “   which soldiers are you hearing such foolish things from?!   bring them to me at once!   ”

“   love?   ”      his cold features furrow a tad,   pinching together with confusion as his steely gaze slides to the left in brief thought.   his love for xiao xingchen?   he had been asked many a question but this one is entirely new to him-   in what manner did they mean love?   song lan does love daozhang xiao,   that much is obvious to him   &   to others around them,   but he loves him in a way friends would love one another.   had it been unnatural,   his love for xiao xingchen?   is that why this question is being raised before him?   the pinch in his expression smooths out back to his passive,   intimidating self   &   song lan parts his lips to speak:      “   in the manner of how friends would love one another.   ”      his tone wavers a bit,   faltering around the edges of the syllables.   when he thinks on it as he speaks of platonic love,   he feels a bit unsure.   does he love him in such a manner that he would rather die than travel the world without xiao xingchen?   had he grown to be so dependent on his friend that this vision of love has now morphed into something entirely different?   silver,   blizzard - like stare floats to where the cultivator clad in snow   &   the spring breeze admires the view   &   song lan’s features visibly soften,   similar to how the snow melts under the summer sun.   he does love him-   but he cannot be sure which type of love it truly is.   is it romantic love?   surely,   the vision is not so bad   ...   to be romantically involved with xiao xingchen.

he stiffens a bit at the thought.   as kind as his friend is,   song lan is hardly aware of how xiao xingchen feels of such a thought-   of song zichen falling in romantic love with xiao xingchen.   around his fúchén,   his fingers curl a bit tighter.      “   i would make sure no harm ever comes to him,   if that is what you are asking.   i love him as i would love a-   friend.   ”

doe - like hues round even more so when the question is asked,   a sudden flash of nervousness beginning to flicker ‘pon the boy’s features as he thinks about it.   he’s quick to answer however,   not wanting to actually seem as if this question needs any sort of pondering for fear of offending any of his caretakers.   lan sizhui laughs pleasantly,   warmth beginning to overtake the evident fluster at being pinpointed with such an inquiry.      “   i would rather not choose between them all so   ...   all of them.   ”      what he does not say is that he doesn’t see lan wangji as an uncle but more of a father - figure since he’s never really grown up with one in his life at all.   wei wuxian takes on the mother - figure in his life,   what with all of his coddling   &   looking after.   back when he had been but a young child,   wei wuxian had been more of an older brother figure in his life.   perhaps,   he still is.   that leaves wen ning                            the true answer to such a question would be uncle ning.   lan sizhui smiles to himself,   fingers fiddling with one another whilst thinking about all the times wen ning has accompanied him on their night - hunts   &   how he felt less alone as he was beginning to remember more   &   more with wen ning around.

who’s the coolest uncle,   a-yuan?          if lan sizhui were more like lan jingyi   &   had no filter ‘tween his mind to his mouth,   he’d say:   wen ning.

liquid sloshes around in his cup,   the same distance making itself known whenever one asks about his past or even about those tied into the same category as love,   as affection,   as falling head o’er heels for someone.   jiang cheng takes another sip,   feels the alcohol burn his throat   &   go to his head.   dizzy,   he feels a bit dizzy,   &   his tongue is loose as are his lips.   he speaks but not because he wishes to. 

“   one-   no,   two.   ”      he hums             a low,   gruff tune that holds no melody at all but it sounds pleasant to the drunken ear as it echoes   &   bounces around in his cup.      “   perhaps a third too.   i can’t recall.   it’s been too long.   ”      too long,   indeed.   it had felt as if it had been a millennia ago but he had been a young adolescent chasing after the coattails of his shixiong,   a furrow to his brow   &   a maturity that did not belong there at the pure age of fifteen.   another sip of the wine,   his head tips back as he downs it haphazardly   &  clumsily does he pour himself a new cup.      “   lan xichen,   ”      loose tongue whispers out,   intoxicated blush rising to his cheeks   &   tainting the tips of his ears.   honorific   &   all be damned,   his drunken mind muses.      “   the cloud recesses are known for their beauty   &   otherworldly disciples.   i didn’t believe it,   wei wuxian was looking forward to it because he’s a shameless bastard.   ”      a chuckle,   then his fingers push back his bangs,   burying his visage in his calloused palm.      “   but have you seen zewu-jun?   he is-   was like a god,   almost.   if i did not know any better,   i would have thought he was an immortal.   ”      lan xichen   &   his kindness;   lan xichen   &   his gentle stare;   lan xichen who had made a fifteen - year - old boy feel at home whenever he felt homesick for the lotus ponds   &   the mud   &   the freedom.   it was hard not to immediately feel something for the elder man.   jiang cheng just happened to fall faster than most                     curse his hopeless romantic of a heart.

the second he remembers too clearly   &   no matter how many cups or jars of wine drowning him inside - out,   it will never remove her from his mind or his heart.   it’s not so strong now as it had been back then   &   the sect leader prides himself for such an odd thing.   he’s proud of himself for not stumbling o’er his feet when she is mentioned or when he glances ‘pon the comb he had put away tenderly in his private quarters.   jiang cheng’s eyes haze o’er for a bit,   silently taking another sip of his wine as he ponder.      “   wen gūniang    ...   ”      he whispers again,   swallowing thickly because suddenly the liquid in his mouth has begun to weigh a ton   &   he is unable to smoothly swallow it down.   his chest feels as if pure gold has been pinning him down to the ground   &   he can hardly breathe now.   his eyes close slowly.   regret pools in the pit of his stomach whenever he thinks about her in this vulnerable state of his;   the intoxicant makes it that much worse.      “   she had healed a-jie when i first talked to her.   ”      she stood out,   with her red robes dancing like flames amongst the cloud   &   snow,   but her beauty had been as if she fit perfectly within the cloud recesses.   jiang cheng takes another hasty sip,   drowning in the liquid to forgo these memories.   he had forgotten so why did they surface again?      “   i had given her a comb,   ”   loose laughter slips out now but it sounds bitter   &   he cannot help the tears that slide down his flushed cheeks,   cup thumping onto the table as palm begin to press ‘gainst his cheeks roughly.

“   ...   is it raining?   ”      he asks belatedly,   not even realizing in his intoxicated state that it is himself who is crying.      “   did they give us a room with a hole in the ceiling?!   i’m going to-   going to file a complaint right now,   damn it!   ”      jiang cheng stands but he stumbles o’er his footing,   then again o’er sandu   &   he looks pathetic                                    flushed from head - to - toe,   on his hands   &   knees,   tears bubbling from his eyes.      “   ah-   fuck.   forget it.   fucking forget it.   you-   i’m tired so run a bath for me and get out.   ”

“   love?   ”      he spits the word out,   features contorting into disbelief   &   slight disgust;   as if someone like him has any time for such luxuries as falling in love.   the sect leader’s lips curl into a frown,   heavy - set   &   fiercer than usual                                in response,    zǐdiàn begins to flicker,   crackle,   to the anger he begins to feel rise within his stomach.      “   do i seem the type to be frolicking about   &   falling in love with just about anyone i look at?   i am a sect leader.   i have more important issues to be worrying about than falling in love or even blushing.   ”      jiang cheng furrows his brows as his features shadow o’er in annoyance,   mingled with anger.   he has no time for love.   he has never had time for love.   being born a male in the yunmeng jiang sect,   with the burdens of the future of the sect being thrusted onto his shoulders,   gave him hardly any freedom to choose for himself.   he would be wedded to someone he possibly does not love,   for the sake of the sect   &   nothing else. 

love?   the man wants to laugh in the face of such gentleness.   love is not made for someone like him-   someone who thrashes out   &   raises electricity - laced hands towards the slightest mishap.   he’s too rough for a feeling so soft as love-   he would snap it cleanly in half with his bare hands if he even tried to grasp for it.   really,   who would even dare to love him,   the feared sāndú shèngshǒu of yunmeng?

the thought has a single droplet of sadness seeping into his soul but he knows it to be true.   he’s much too difficult to deal with,   he’s drowning under his stress   &   the immense amount of baggage he has collected o’er the years.   he’s not husband material   &   he had made his peace with that but the question   ...   a flicker of irritation wipes away any sense of sadness he had felt prior   &   jiang cheng scowls,    zǐdiàn crackling louder now.      “   are you done with your useless questions?   ”