it seemed that       once xue yang felt partial towards  tormenting  someone,           he would use every opportunity available to persist with his  pestering   relentlessly      ───        but such behavior wasn’t really surprising of a person who had accomplished so many questionable,     or  downright atrocious,        deeds at such a young age.          what was truly surprising was that jiang cheng simply allowed it,        standing with the same  tolerant exhaustion  as one in the presence of some airborne insect  too elusive  for simple swats to deter.        it’s difficult to say just when this had normalized into  something to be expected  in their crossing of paths,     but the banter was a  welcome shift  from the lonesome,     monotonous,      dread of a daily life consumed by duty and the  haunting guilt  treading rough across his heart. 

        ‘  is that what you think you are,     exciting ?   ’      his deep timbre scoffs as dull as his expression was blank.        if there was any joy to be found in what he could not immediately control,         the fun of it had long since worn off for jiang cheng.         yet an excess in logic did nothing for him,     either.        nothing good had ever come from leaving his  treacherous brain to rationalize on its own accord for extended periods of time.        ‘  logic doesn’t always work but it is always  boring,      so i’ll give you that.        after all,       enjoying my time listening to whatever  nonsense  you spew more than i would any interaction with my actual peers isn’t logical,      but  it works.   ’      

▌ single or taken :       mr_lonely.mp3 in canon   /    verse dependent

▌ abilities or powers :      does being able to display so much ire frequently without giving himself an hernia count ?     otherwise,    jiang sect is known for a particular sword style that jiang cheng is very proficient in,   it’s never mentioned but his official title post-sunshot is sandu shengshou ( sandu [his sword] wielder )  so i assume his sword skills would be notable enough for others to recognize his sword on sight.      he also wields zidian,     a family heirloom passed onto him by his mother on the cusp of jiang sect’s downfall.  it is a spiritual object in the shape of a ring which,   at the beckoning of its owner,    transforms into an ultraviolet lightning whip.

▌ eye color :       grey.

▌ hair color :        black.

▌ family members :         jiang fengmian ( father ),   yu ziyuan ( mother ),   jiang yanli ( sister ),   wei wuxian ( adopted brother )

▌ pets :       had three dogs called jasmine, princess, and love but had to give them up when wei wuxian was brought to live with them due to his fear of dogs.    in modern he probably will get a dog at some point.

▌ something they don’t like :        being made a fool of,   which,   surprise surprise,   happens the whole fucking series lmaoooo

▌ hobbies / activities :         training,   training,   and more training.     if he ever had time between his duties as sect leader and training,   he would probably enjoy reading.   oh and spending time with jin ling,    he loves that.

▌ ever hurt anyone before :       yes.

▌ ever killed anyone before :     yes.

▌ worst habits :         letting his insecurities get the better of him,   lashing out when they’re even remotely grazed,   and being susceptible to manipulation bc of it.

▌ role models :       he would never fucking admit it, he would rather eat his tongue than say it,  but he did look up to wwx....just a lil but thats it he doesn’t really have role models. 

▌ sexual orientation :      bisexual.

▌ thoughts on marriage / kids :         he knows its a duty he has to perform to solidify the jiang sect he has rebuilt but honestly he never thinks he’ll be able to achieve it,   he knows how impossible to get along with he is and after being traumatized by two parents who hated each other he wouldn’t want to get involved with anyone he won’t have feelings or be,  at least,  on good enough terms with to raise children and co-run the sect.   

▌ fears :         never being good enough,    others knowing he isn’t good enough,    being a fraud and a failure to his sect

▌ style preferences :       it’s all about practicality and economizing but he doesn’t compromise look good bc he knows that,    despite what they might think of him personally,    as long as he looks like a competent,   respectable,   prospering leader others will show him the courtesy of one.

▌ someone they love :        jiang yanli,   jin ling

▌ approach to friendships :       not good at all with making friends,    everyone who has even remotely become ‘familiar’ with him was probably wwx’s acquaintance first.

▌ thoughts on pie :         indifferent.

▌ favorite drink :        tea.

▌ favorite place to spend time at :        lotus piers

▌ swim in the lake or in the ocean :        lake

▌ their type :         despite his dumb requirements,    he just needs someone who will show him unconditional love,   and who will never stop choosing him first.   but being nice to jin ling is an obligation.

 ▌ camping or indoors :         camping,    nature soothes him.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑮𝑬𝑫.         @fuyao​​

taking criticism well       is a skill  eternally elusive  to jiang cheng     ───     a speckle in the vast,      seemingly interminable sea of things he could  never  seem to  grasp right or at all.        if there’s a grimace clouding his strong features as he listens to xie lian’s corrections,        his gentle hands guiding rugged palms the right way around the flower being shaped in his grasp for an arrangement,       then the  infantile  nature of it must warrant amusement,       laughter brightening the lilt of his instruction.        it beckons the lift of his previously focused sights to see  mirth  flirting with the natural glimmer of those honeyed eyes,        taunting him with some ancient,         unspoken knowledge he knew but wouldn’t share.       (    the fact,       perhaps,     that the essence of jiang cheng,       his childlike petulance when lovingly cajoled into facing his faults,       had not changed in the centuries since their first encounter     )

          ‘   i’m just not good at this.     ’       he states dismissively,       tone rougher than he meant for it to sound.        it’s a   strategic retreat,       a burst of self-reproach to address critiques before running away from the matter altogether    ──    lest he succumb to an anxious fixation that carved upon his consciousness the entirety of his presumed  ineptitude.       xie lian,         as with all other things,      takes this volatile shift with  endless grace;      lips puckered along with the frazzled quiver of his brow for only a second before that merciful smile shines luminous upon his  glorious countenance.       his hands hold jiang cheng’s firmly in place around the petals even as he tries his best to retreat,      tugging him closer from the opposite side of the long work table the more he tries to pull away.

‘    I tell you these things because I love you.    ‘      silken voice asserts once he captures his gaze,      warm smile almost too brilliant for jiang cheng to bear.       it prompts a prickling of something against his skin hot like shame and a sudden realization all at once.      what he failed to prevail at was not merely the art of arranging flowers but the  dutiful patience  intrinsic to the process    ──    what,    if anything,    xie lian had been attempting to get across to him. 

it was an act of  love  to match his own initial willingness to learn and partake in what gave the other joy.        jiang cheng realizes his guidance was but another caring instance used to gently coax him into  self-improvement,       to give as much as he took because  reciprocity  had always been the basis of their love.       there was little else to do in the face of such small epiphanies but let the  saccharine sanctity  of their eternal tryst wash over him,     to let it tug up the corner of his lips as his coarse thumb wrangled under his grip to brush the back of his palm before picking it up to peck at the heel of it;      an acquiescence as much as it was an  apology  for reacting as defensively as he had in the face of xie lian’s  selfless good intent.    

  he presses the hand in his firm grasp against his cheek and leans into the warmth of it,    dark eyes fluttering shut for a moment of  thoughtless indulgence  in the tenderness of his touch,    untroubled by the smudging of soil marking the insides of his palm or the prickle of raised skin afflicted by the thorns and debris that came with his work,      before opening them with an expression perhaps  too intense  for the lighthearted aura xie lian had initially set in this makeshift lesson.       it leaves the desired impact on the other,      sights wide and transfixed upon him with matching vigor twined with confusion;         it’s only then that jiang cheng relents,        the brilliance of his genuine laughter to have provoked such a unsettled expression in the other ephemeral but leaving in its wake the loveliness of his boyish,       open smile just for xie lian to see.         ‘  i fear you  won’t  make me a prodigy at arranging flowers but,    at the very least,      i’ll have the  victory  of knowing you  love me  enough to have the patience try.     ────     and i hope you know,    as well,    that i love you enough to be willing to learn.    ’   

           it  would  be  even  more  curious  for  the  delinquent  himself  to  be  of  the  same  mind  with  an  incorruptible  cultivator  –  a  sect  leader,  of  all  people  –  than  it  may  be  for  the  other.  whether  the  throne  is  theirs  to  claim  as  the  rightful  successor  or  part  of  their  act  as  a  puppeteer  with  no  right  to  even  glance  its  way…  titles  are  titles,  Xue  Yang  concludes  ;  the  rules  do  not  change  overnight.  (  were  that  the  case,  perhaps  he  would  –  for  once  –  be  acknowledged  as  nothing  more  than  a  young  man  with  a  𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝  𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭  𝐢𝐧  𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜  𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧  :  the  hooligan  feared  by  all  of  Kuizhou  or  the  author  behind  every  recent  bloodbath  known  to  man  would  no  longer  exist                 too  preposterous  a  concept  to  even  dare  entertain.  he’s  done  too  much.  )

           in  spite  of  the  unconventional  character  of  this  interaction,  he  finds  it…  likable  enough,  for  the  lack  of  a  better  word  inside  the  mind  that’s  always  scheming,  almost  welcome  an  exchange.  more  so  when  that  childish  artlessness  he  knows  well  seems  to  be  mirrored  in  how  Jiang  Cheng  speaks  of  an  event  oh-so-carefully  planned  by  the  higher-ups.  he  can’t  help  but  reveal  that  pair  of  prominent  canines  ;  a  grin  first  and  a  tame  display  of  delight  second,  a  snicker                 as  his  automatic,  spontaneous  response.  if  this  banquet  meant  anything  to  him,  he  wouldn’t  be  here,  far  from  the  rehearsed  speeches  and  false  smiles.  the  grasp?  awfully  abrupt  on  Xue  Yang’s  part  :  that  sometimes  that’s  all  it  takes  for  momentary  truces  to  happen…  the  obvious,  unmasked  distaste  toward  the  same  thing.  ‘I  don’t  give  a  shit  about  it  either,’  he  could  declare.  it  rings  clear,  though,  from  the  roll  of  his  eyes  to  the  chuckle  just  now.

           ❝ believe  me?  they  eat  right  out  of  my  hand. ❞

           right  out  of  the  same  hand  that  squeezed  throats  breathless  and  pulled  eyes  out  of  their  sockets,  for  𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫  𝐢𝐬  𝐚  𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥  𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐥  and  it  grows  twice  in  size  when  unorthodox  methods  of  cultivation  are  involved.  Xue  Yang  doesn’t  recall  having  even  put  his  most  trusted  weapon  to  use  within  the  Lanling  Jin  sect  ;  it’s  reputation  that  does  all  the  work  for  him,  so  neatly,  so  aptly.  ❝ you’re  disagreeable  because  you’re  younger  than  them                 it’s  not  that  hard  to  understand.  catch. ❞

           from  his  vest  pocket,  a  daintily  wrapped  piece  of  candy  comes  flying  at  the  youth  who  sees  himself  a  grown  man.  he  expects  rightful  retaliation,  another  of  zidian’s  menacing  crackles  due  to  the  unforeseen  gesture  ;  there’s  tidiness  in  his  own  chaos,  something  akin  to  a  chance  given,  a  once-in-a-lifetime  situation  he  pulls  Jiang  Cheng  into  without  the  latter’s  expressed  willingness.  popping  a  sweet  treat  into  his  own  mouth  seconds  after,  he  leans  on  his  side  against  the  balcony  to  face  the  other.  ❝ candy, ❞  he  instructs.  ❝ you’re  older  than  me                 don’t  worry  about  what  I  may  think. ❞

a moment of tension       punctures the peculiar fluidity of their exchange,      jiang cheng eyeing cautiously the other’s hand as it dips into his garments to rustle for some unknown item hidden therein.       suspicion was to be expected from someone quick to distrust in light of past betrayals,     particularly when in the company of someone with as much of a  dubious reputation  as xue yang,      and yet what strikes as odd is how he hesitates to prepare a defense.      he watches him procure the candy with only an  acute fixation  on his movements apart from the obvious tightening of muscles denoting  apprehension,        fisted palm rigid yet  devoid of violet threat  as it lifts to catch the sweet.         prudence must fail him with all this  accumulated exhaustion,       he thinks,         tireless work catching up to him and the hour not yet late enough to take his leave without looking   uncouth.       (    not,     he reassures himself,    because xue yang has given him something intriguing to muse over,    and   definitely not   because he’s come to enjoy the reprieve this straightforward conversation has given him in a night of  fully forced interactions  and  false niceties   )

a questioning brow is lifted as he unwraps the candy,       a side glance as amused as it was curious granted towards the other before he presses the confection through his lips.           ‘   apparently i’m missing something thats obvious to you so  enlighten me    ──     how is my youth the reason i’m disagreeable to them and not the   ...    the fact i’m not exactly as  sociable  as a sect leader should be.     ’        the final fragment of his words,     spoken at a lower volume than the rest of the sentence and with a hint of a grimace,       hint as his  constant self-reproach.     

it had always seemed to jiang cheng,        via the cruel conditioning of his mother’s cold and aggressive  love and his father’s  disdain,        that the bulk of his inability to appeal to anyone in life was a result of a  foul temperament  coupled with an  ineptitude  that,       despite his  ample attempts  at self-betterment and pouring himself into the disciplines needed to follow the path of cultivation,     seemed unable to be learned out of him.       he never considers how his  quick ascent  to the pinnacle of leadership and how he seemed to have rebuilt his sect in the span of a breath could have  threatened  the  ancient,   fiercely-guarded structure of the older,         more established sect leaders;       how they might have felt intimidated,       for once,         not by his  ruinous demeanor  but his capacity to  change things overnight.      

it still didn’t seem a plausible theory to him,     incapable  of thinking or believing    (   not for very long,   at least    )    any  good  about himself.        he manages another amused huff of breath leaning towards an incredulous snort as he processes the latter statement.      it nearly seemed  surreal  to think xue yang could be younger than him with all the  infamy  he’s already accrued,     and all the  mock prestige  he receives out of fear and his usefulness to whatever it was the jins were doing.     (   something shady,    jiang cheng knew without a doubt,    but as long as it didn’t threaten lotus pier or the integrity,    stability,    or safety  of jiang sect,    he didn’t really care    )      perhaps this odd truce they seemed to have established between them was a respite granted by the universe,      a single night where they could act more their age than the roles either was  expected  to take on daily.   

He  was  starting  to  understand  now,  that  more  often  than  not,  Jiang  Cheng  words  or  expression  did  not  exactly  aligned  with  his  actions.  And  yet,  it  didn’t  meant  either  of  those  were  untrue.  The  younger  son  of  Jiang  Fengmian  was  a  complicated  person  like  that,  but  once  Huaisang  had  put  his  mind  into  something,  there  was  no  mystery  that  could  elude  him  for  long.

He  took  another  bite  of  the  mooncake,  as  he  heard  they  were  about  to  have  a  free  of  Lan  Qiren  week  ❝ Ugh,  that  would  be  great.  I  mean,  why  can’t  Zewu-jun  give  the  lectures,  anyway? ❞  he  asked  as  he  cleaned  his  mouth  of  any  crumbs  ❝ My  brother  always  tells  me  he’s  not  only  a  great  cultivator,  but  he’s  well  versed  in  everything  a  gentleman  must  know. ❞

A  shush  came  from  another  disciple  nearby,  and  Huaisang  apologized  promptly,  but  not  before  giggling  a  little  towards  his  friend.

his brow lifts     in faint amusement at the other’s giggling despite being chastised,     hands smoothing the page of the manuscript opened up before him in  performative guise  to feed the  illusion  that they were  actually studying  instead of conversing aimlessly.       musing over the enticing idea of zewu-jun taking the place of his  uninspiring   (   decidedly  less agreeable   )      uncle,     jiang cheng could see the immediate merits to such a fantasy.      he might actually be inspired to  want  to learn all that the lan would teach,     as opposed to the reality of being  expected to  in a winding tradition of young masters forced to be  bent into shape  by lan qiren’s  tedious and severe  teachings.    

        “  i was sent here for a job and got lost trying to find my way back;  i’m not often sent out of the country,  so i  really am  lost without your help.  i,  if we get back to somewhere i do know,  i’ll happily treat you to a meal or compensate monetarily!  ”

there’s something  particularly resplendent  about haku that morning,           something more  ravishing  about their warm beauty that goads at jiang cheng's covetous impulse.        he finds himself  reluctantly  attuned to the hungry stares of strangers in every flick of their perfumed waves over the shoulder of a fitted pistachio cardigan,       traveling down the limits of the cropped knitwear and over the satin sliver of bared midriff leading to the cinch of denim accentuating their waist.       how,      when they've walked past these anonymous admirers,          he would tilt his chin up to glimpse over his shoulder and find them staring at the fit of their jeans hugging just right where their slim build was most plush.      it makes jiang cheng sneer something  vicious,         a brief glimpse of his brutish former self caught in the   transience of refinement      ──       instead of the brusque remark or petulant,       cold distance his immature younger self might have employed in such a situation,       he stakes an indelible claim.

ruined  by  trauma      ───       you cannot get over the past.    you are constantly remembering,    never forgetting.     you cant live in the moment because the moment is not what brought you here.       you are birthed,    raised,    and killed in the past.     you will never get over what was done to you,      be it big or be it small.      you cannot escape what you refuse to confront.

𝑇𝐴𝐺𝐺𝐸𝐷 .    @mangtoi​​