Chapter 1: Meng Yao has made a critical mistake
Summary:
Meng Yao, who is resting after an intense and terrifying encounter with Wen Ruohan, is told by a friend that the war is over.
Notes:
First off: if any of this seems familiar, that's not a coincidence. This fic was inspired by another fic of mine, I'm Asking for a Smaller Heart (specifically chapter two). While you don't have to have read that to understand this, a good portion of this first chapter is taken directly from I'm Asking for a Smaller Heart. Some changes have been made, but the flashback is almost the same. I have opted to include it here because it is important to the story.
I'm also, like, very lowkey nervous about this one so be gentle with me, okay?
Chapter Text
Prologue
Nie Mingjue has just signed his life away to the devil.
He can't bring himself to regret it, though. It means Huaisang is safe. It doesn't matter what happens to him, as long as his little brother is safe.
The sound of the door opening tips him from his thoughts. Fuck, did Wen Ruohan decide he couldn't wait until morning after all? Is he about to have his legs forced open right here in the lowest levels of Qishan’s dungeon, fucked like the whore he’s agreed to be to protect his brother!?
He was told he had time, he had until morning, he’s not ready, but who is he fooling, he’ll never be ready, not for something like this. He curls in on himself, terrified and furious at himself for being so.
"Chifeng-zun," a voice that is distinctly not Wen Ruohan's says.
Rage turns everything red and he lunges at Meng Yao-- at Wen Huoyao, fucking traitor-- but strong arms intercept him. He freezes.
It's Xichen. Lan Xichen is (but, wait, he isn't a Lan anymore, is he?) restraining him from ripping that bastard son of a whore apart, and for what? The way Huoyao had been sitting on his lap during the banquet, spread out over Xichen like he owned him, surely the first jade wants him dead too!
"Xichen," he gasps. "Let me go, I'll tear him apart, I'll--"
"Mingjue-xiong!" Xichen interrupts, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. "Tell me, please, please gods above tell me you did not agree to any of Wen Ruohan's bargains."
Mingjue blinks. "Of course I did!" He grabs Xichen's wrist, trying to tug it off him. It doesn't budge. "He was keeping my little brother as a sex toy, Xichen! I couldn't just leave Huaisang in that situation!"
Xichen's face crumbles. "Oh, you stupid man," he whispers, eyes beginning to water. "You sentimental simpleton, you absolute moron!" He shakes him again, hard enough to make his brains rattle. His voice is rising in volume, till he's shouting. "You idiot! You complete and utter fool!" Without his forehead ribbon and with his face contorted in anger, Xichen looks like someone else. "We had it under control, and then you just had to go and play the hero!" He lets go of Mingjue's shoulder and raises a hand, Mingjue knows he is about to be slapped and braces himself, but a set of small fingers catch Xichen's wrist and stops the strike before it can connect.
It's Wen Huoyao. He sighs. Maybe it's a trick of the light, but it looks like he might be crying. Possibly. As unlikely as that is.
"This will not help anything, A-Huan," he says gently. "What's done is done. I'll-- we'll figure out something, I promise, but this is not the solution. It won't even make you feel better. You are hurt and upset right now, and I will not let you do something I know you'll regret."
Mingjue feels his heart shatter on the cold, hard prison floor. "A-Huan?" He parrots Huoyao in a thin voice. "He calls you-- you're, you are really…" his heart is beating too fast, he can feel it in his wrists and the soles of his feet.
Xichen turns away from him to fall into Huoyao's arms and sob. And then, in that moment, he realizes that Xichen's cultivation isn't sealed, like his is. It probably never was.
A curtain of blind rage falls over his eyes.
"Traitor!"
This time he lunges with full intent to tear his oldest friend limb from limb. Huoyao intercepts him, and it feels like running full speed into a brick wall even though it's just the smaller man's outstretched hands.
"Traitor," he snarls again, panting and stumbling back. He remembered people, his own family, calling Xichen a traitor during the banquet, after his engagement to Wen Ruohan's recently adopted son was announced, but Mingjue was certain he was only going along with it reluctantly, to protect his sect, his family! Hell, Xichen even said as much to his uncle! "Have you been with them, with him , all along!?!"
Xichen doesn't answer, he only sobs hysterically, face in his hands and leaning hard on the bars of the cell.
Huoyao wraps an arm around his waist and draws him to the door. "I'm sorry," he says, making eye contact with Mingjue. "I really am."
Mingjue staggers to his feet, his breath mostly recovered. "You'd both best watch your backs," he snarls. "Someday I'll put a knife in them."
Huoyao makes that little hum he used to do so often when he worked in Qinghe, that he usually gave to Huaisang, the hum that meant he was humoring you. "If thinking that will make you feel better, Chifeng-zun, please go ahead." He shuts the barred door behind him and Xichen. "Try to get some rest. Tomorrow will not be easy."
Then they're gone.
Mingjue falls onto his knees, numb with shock. Xichen has betrayed them. Meng Y-- Wen Huoyao was a traitor from the beginning. In less than a month the two of them will be married.
And tomorrow he becomes Wen Ruohan's concubine.
It's alright. It's for Huaisang. It doesn't matter what happens to him. It doesn't matter what happens to him, as long as his little brother is safe. It’s for Huaisang, It doesn't matter what happens to him, as long as his little brother is safe.
Chapter 1, 27 days previous
Meng Yao has made a critical mistake.
There are, of course, a multitude of excuses he could offer: that he was scared, that he was exhausted, that he was told to rest until he was ready to work again, that he hadn't been sent a message like he should have been, that he'd told Caihong and Daiyu and Qionglin all that if there were any important developments or changes to send for him.
It's not his fault.
Except that it is, entirely, his fault.
It’s silly, and rather narcissistic of him to be so certain that if he'd been there, something would have changed. That he could have single-handedly won the war for their side.
It's still his fault.
The front steps of the Fire Palace are caked in gore. At the top there is a pike, with a familiar head speared onto it, face twisted in fear.
It's Wei Wuxian. What a shame that he managed to drag himself out of the burial mounds, and forge some incredible new spiritual tool, and invent a whole new method of cultivating only to die like this and give everything he created into Wen Ruohan’s hands.
Meng Yao walks past the pike. The brutality doesn't bother him. He's seen worse, to people he cared for more.
He's only been inside for a second before Wen Ruohan sees him.
"Ah, Yao'er!" He says jovially. He stands up from the throne and descends the steps, stopping before Meng Yao. "Didn't I tell you, you chose the right side of this war." He claps him on the shoulder. It's agonizing.
"I saw the corpse on the front steps," Meng Yao says mildly. "What happened while I was resting?"
He already knows, Caihong gave him an account when he came to fetch him not fifteen minutes ago, with news that the war was over.
He wants Wen Ruohan's explanation regardless.
Wen Ruohan explains how he slew Wei Wuxian on the steps of the Fire Palace during Sunshot's futile last stand, yesterday. With the Tiger Seal under his control along with the three shards of Yin Iron, Wen Ruohan is unstoppable. He's much more stable like this, less prone to the terrifying fits of fever like the one that had sent Meng Yao fleeing from the Fire Palace, only to return a day too late.
•°.~ Two days ago
Meng Yao was in the dungeons when he first heard something was wrong. He was interrogating a captured Lan soldier. He didn't torture her, not yet. She won't tell him anything when he is being kind, though.
A messenger pulled him out before he had to make a decision.
"I… I think Sect Leader Wen wants you," she murmured.
He raised an eyebrow, a bit irked. He hated being interrupted, and he thought everyone knew that. "Why do you 'think'? He did not send for me by name?"
She licked her lips, still caught in a low bow that Meng Yao had an implacable desire to draw her up out of. "He… he keeps calling for 'Yao'er', Chief Adviser. I cannot imagine that would be anyone but you."
He was not sure if he should be flattered or humiliated.
When they reached the throne room, Wen Ruohan flew down the stairs, slung Meng Yao over his shoulder, and in the blink of an eye had them both back in the throne. He was burning up, a worryingly high fever.
"What are you staring at?!" He snarled at the guards, hauling Meng Yao off his shoulder and into his lap. The Wen leader ignored his protests, the thumping of his fists. Meng Yao didn't know why he even tried, it certainly did not change anything last time this happened. "Go guard the door!"
They moved away obediently.
Meng Yao was shaking. Too much contact, everything is too hot, he was being held too tight, then Wen Ruohan's hand brushed over his right shoulder blade and he could not keep in a pained whine.
"Does that hurt?" Cultivation prickled at him. "I see. This is no minor injury. Carp Tower's steps?"
It felt like someone else was nodding his head for him. Like foreign hands gripped his skull and turned it up, down, up, without his consent.
Wen Ruohan sighed. "If only you were born my son." He rested his chin in Meng Yao's hair. "I would have treated you as you deserve."
Meng Yao found he could not budge in any direction, the grip on him was too strong. "Sect leader, what happened?"
Something wet fell into Meng Yao's hair. "Your brother is dead."
He startled. "...brother? I don't have a brother." Did he mean Jin Zixuan?
Wen Ruohan lifted his head and cradled both of Meng Yao's cheeks. "Ah. Yao'er. Of course you don't." Another tear fell down his face. "Chao'er is dead. Wen Zhuliu too."
Probably, Meng Yao should have seen this coming. Wen Chao had so little common sense it was a wonder he lived this long.
Wen Ruohan was still touching him. He was trembling with pain and with fear. "I'm sorry for your loss, sect leader."
"I still have you."
Meng Yao shook harder. Sweat dribbled into his eyes. It stung. "Sect leader, if you--" he swallowed. "Forgive this humble one for being presumptuous, but if you see me as a son, why did you invite me into your bed?"
"I do not see you as a son. But I would if you would let me." A hand squeezed his side. He jolted and whimpered at the too-harsh touch. "The problem with you, Yao'er, is that if you had your way nobody would think of you at all. I would have you as a lover, or a cultivation partner, or as a son, but you have turned me down every instance."
"I did not mean to offend you, sect leader." The grip on his side was bruising, he felt like his ribs were going to snap under those fingers. "Please, you are hurting me--"
Finally he let go of his side, but he was holding on so tightly everywhere else. "Oh, little one, it's alright, a-die's here now. A-die has you. A-die loves you."
Nausea cramped Meng Yao's stomach. He pushed at Wen Ruohan's arms. "Sect leader, you're sick with grief. Your core is unstable, you have a fever. It's me, Meng Yao."
"I know, Yao'er, be quiet. A-die will keep you safe, you're home now." He was clearly crying into Meng Yao's hair, but his voice was steady. "I won't let you go. I won't lose you like I lost them."
If this was how Wen Ruohan needed to grieve for his second son, Meng Yao supposed he had no choice but to allow it. It was preferable to him having prisoners of war and the occasional loyal Wen soldier who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time tortured to death in the throne room. That was how he grieved Wen Xu. With Meng Yao cradled in his lap, kept there by brute strength.
"You'll be my filial youngest," Wen Ruohan continued. "After we win the war. Whether you like it or not. My favorite son, the most capable, the most loyal, the most brilliant."
He was burning up, energy roiling. Meng Yao wondered if he was qi deviating.
"When you're ready I'll have Zewu-jun wed to you, my favorite son deserves the number one ranking young master, and I know how much you like him, Yao'er. I’ll give him to you, I’ll give you everything you want. We can be happy…"
He rambled on and on. He called Meng Yao Yao'er, and promised him a grand life as Wen Ruohan's youngest son after the war.
He also called him by both of his sons' names, by the names of people he didn’t know, even called him A-Liu once and tried to kiss him. When Meng Yao panicked and turned his head away, Wen Ruohan sat him on the ground in front of the throne, his back to it, and caged him in place with his legs.
"I'm sorry, A-Liu," he whispered. His fingers carded through Meng Yao's hair, and he spent more than an hour twisting it into some complicated Wen style.
He wondered if A-Liu was Wen Zhuliu, or somebody else.
Once his hair was done up to the sect leader's specifications, he drug Meng Yao back into his lap and kept him there with sheer strength. The grip he had around his middle was almost crushing, and distinctly uncomfortable.
Wen Ruohan didn't come back to himself until it was long past midnight.
Though the shove was gentle, Meng Yao still was not prepared for it and went sprawling on the floor.
"Go," Wen Ruohan said, his voice hoarse from sobbing. "Go rest, and do not come back until you are ready."
Meng Yao fled from the throne room. He tore his hair free of whatever insane style it has been twisted into. He sent a note to Caihong, and two more to his other closest confidants in Qishan, saying that he was taking a break and should only be disturbed for extremely important matters.
He went a whole day without being interrupted, until Caihong showed up to tell him the war was over.
~.°●
"Ah, but I'm sure you must be eager," Wen Ruohan laughs. "I might have been feverish, Yao'er, but I do not make promises lightly. Come, my son."
Meng Yao follows with a growing sense of horror inside him.
Chapter 2: He can do anything, to anyone, but not Zewu-jun
Summary:
Wen Ruohan shows Meng Yao exactly what kind of spoils they've won, and they discuss plans for the future.
Notes:
Like the previous chapter, this one is basically right out of I'm asking for a smaller heart. A lot of changes have been made, but the bare bones of this chapter are very much the same.
Chapter Text
Wen Ruohan leads him down into the dungeon. Unlike in Qinghe, the prisons in Qishan contain cells hemmed in by bars, not solid iron. He can see into them. This, the top floor of the dungeon, is the nicest. The cells are carpeted, with a screened off area for the bathroom and a simple metal bed with a straw mattress.
They're all full, mostly faces Meng Yao just barely recognizes.
They pass Sect Leader Jiang, first. He is pacing like a caged tiger, eyes red-rimmed. His lips curl into what looks like a vicious snarl, but no sound comes out of his mouth. There is a long, thin scar on his throat, running down his windpipe.
"Xue Yang wants some rogue cultivator," Wen Ruohan explained. "Xiao Xing-something. But if we cannot find him, he said he would have that one instead. Isn't he so much more agreeable like this, all quiet? You have the chance to really appreciate his beauty when he can't mar it by spitting venom. Xue Yang wanted him to keep his tongue, so we tried something else instead. Did you know, Yao'er, if you open up the throat and slit the larynx just right, you can render someone completely mute, unable to even squeak?"
Meng Yao knows, it is a theory he came up with. He never used it on anyone, only as a threat, a gruesome little morsel to keep Wen Ruohan happy.
They move on past Sect Leader Jiang. The next cell down that has a familiar face contains Lan Wangji, who sits at the back of the cell perfectly still, eyes closed. Not a hair out of place, not an injury on him. He is either deep in meditation, or in a drugged sleep.
"That one is no fun," Wen Ruohan says. "But he's also essential, safe and unharmed. A gift to you. He's yours."
Meng Yao swallows. This is good, it’s information, and it’s power put in his hands. If he can protect Lan Wangji, he will, on his older brother’s behalf. "Thank you, sect leader."
Wen Ruohan tuts. "So formal, Yao'er. You're not my advisor or my torturer anymore, little one. You should address me properly."
The words feel like they're cutting Meng Yao's throat. "Thank-- thank you, father."
Beaming, Wen Ruohan leads him away from Lan Wangji's cell.
In the neighboring cell is Lan Xichen.
All that remains of his Lan robes is his forehead ribbon. His usual outfit is replaced with a single thin layer of nearly-but-not-quite sheer red fabric, emblazoned with the Wen Crest. He is blindfolded, gagged, and bound into a kneeling position on the bed, wrists to ankles. Lumps of cotton have been stuffed into his ears.
"If you did not want him, I would absolutely keep him for myself," Wen Ruohan says. His voice is dark. "Isn't he exquisite? Surely the most beautiful man to ever walk this earth. But I wouldn't deny my favorite son anything." He strokes a hand gently through Meng Yao's hair. "Let A-die give you what you want, Yao'er. He's yours, the same as Lan Wangji. As long as you treat his little brother well, he'll do anything you say."
His mouth has gone dry. Meng Yao can hurt anyone, if he absolutely must, can commit any atrocity, any crime. But he cannot harm Zewu-jun. He can do anything, to anyone, but not Zewu-jun.
"They are both yours to do with as you please. A matching set of twin jades, for you, my son. Both impossibly beautiful, especially when kneeling side-by-side and begging for your attention." Wen Ruohan gives him a look out of the corner of his eye. "Would you like that, Yao'er? The two most beautiful men in the world on their knees for you, pleading for the chance just to kiss your feet?"
Meng Yao's throat is too dry to speak.
"Or, if you wish, you could marry Lan Xichen. Make him more than just a bedwarmer. You feel very deeply for him, don't you?"
He thinks he might be sick. Even so, he nods, because he loves Lan Xichen so much at every moment that it hurts.
"Nobody has touched him. Of course, I did check to make sure he was untouched, no son of mine will have a marred spouse. If he wasn't pure I would make him your concubine, but he is. So you may marry him, if you wish. I will have Lan Xichen placed in your rooms later today. Not those tiny servant rooms, of course. I've already sent people to move your things to your new rooms in the fire palace."
He gulps. "Thank you, father." It's easier to say this time, when he adds a small bow. He can still salvage this, maybe. He needs all the information. He needs to know who is here, who is not, who is dead, who has surrendered. "What of Chifeng-zun?"
Now Wen Ruohan gives a full, wide grin. "Oh, I am so pleased you asked. He's alive, and not here."
Relief curls in Meng Yao's chest.
"He's further down, of course. Perfectly intact. For now. You needn't concern yourself with him, that man has done enough to you. A-die will take care of it."
His heart drops into the pit of his stomach.
Whatever expression makes its way onto his face, Wen Ruohan interprets it as something good. He smiles. "Let us go back up to the throne room, my son. There is nothing else down here I need to show you."
They go past Sect leader Jiang again, who spits at them between the bars. The talisman that stretches over the openings sizzles and evaporates the saliva before it can pass through.
Wen Ruohan sits him at the right hand of the long table in the throne room. Before he died, Wen Xu sat here. Apparently it’s Meng Yao’s seat now.
"The war may be won, Yao'er, but there are still things to be parsed out before our reign is secure. There is still the matter of the Unclean Realm, and all of Qinghe, really. The Nie are being predictably stubborn. The Jin have surrendered, also predictably."
This is good. It’s information, he can use this. He can make a plan. He can. He nods, hoping Wen Ruohan will go on.
"As the new Emperor I'll be selecting a concubine from each of the major sects. Jin Zixuan is already on his way here from Lanling."
The blood in Meng Yao's veins freezes. "Jin Guangshan just… handed him over?"
Wen Ruohan squeezes his shoulders in both hands, kneading and rubbing. It's probably meant to be comforting. It isn't, it's just painful, he’s either forgotten about Meng Yao’s shoulder injury or doesn’t care. "A vile thing, I agree. Out of all his spawn, you're the only one with worth. Aren't you much better off as my son, Yao'er?"
The mix of terror, relief, and guilt is nauseating, but he can't feel anything over the agony the shoulder massage is causing him. "Yes, father."
"But at least little A-Xuan is pretty, the only thing he has going for him. He'll be even prettier once put in his proper place, squirming on my cock. I'm sure he's just as slutty as his father. He'll be an excellent bedwarmer, a stellar concubine." He stops his massage and releases Meng Yao's shoulders. He sighs in gratitude, he can hear again, he can think again without the all-encompassing agony.
"Yes, father." He's not entirely sure what he just agreed with. Everything is frightfully still, he wonders if his heart is even beating. There is no way he can stop this, not without compromising his own position. He feels a brief pang of sympathy for Jin Zixuan, before it’s crushed under a mess of howsitgoingbeingthelegitamatesonhuhnotsofunnowisitpeacock
"Have you made any selections from the other sects yet?"
"Nie Huaisang from the Nie, obviously, though he is still hiding behind the fortress walls of the Unclean Realm. I've sent men and fierce corpses there to crack it open and drag him out. The first time I fuck him, I think I'll make his brother watch. Nie Mingjue will be made to understand that if he had only been cooperative, like Jin Guangshan, I'd fuck A-Sang gently, like I fuck A-Xuan. But he was not cooperative." He shrugs. There's a manic glint in his eyes. "More is the pity for poor A-Sang."
Meng Yao feels faint. Not Huaisang, anyone but naive, sweet little Huaisang. He braces his palms on the table. He has to find a way to stop this. He can find a way to stop this. He will. "And… the Lan? The Jiang?"
He chuckles. "Wanyin and Yanli are all that's left of the Jiang. If we find Xue Yang's Xiao Xing, I'll take them both, make sure they're cared for, even though they have no sect to surrender to me." He smiles, like he's being undeservedly kind. "Jiang Yanli is sweet and demure, and could probably be persuaded to take over some duties around the palace as a ward. Her health is too fragile to be kept for pleasure, and I'm not so cruel. Her mother was a great woman who had my respect. Perhaps I would allow A-Xuan to help her with her duties, when he is not tending to me. The two of them get along well, don't they?"
"They were betrothed, father, since childhood." That doesn't mean they get along, but Meng Yao wants to give Wen Ruohan as little useful information as possible.
He chuckles. "Well, they can serve together in my palace, and perhaps if my ward and A-Xuan behave I will give them some time alone." He pauses. Then, "If I take Wanyin as well, I'll likely keep him for pleasure. He's too unruly to be trusted with much power in the household, and he may be more agreeable if he thinks he can keep my eye off his sister and on him."
Yes, that sounds very in-character for someone like Sect Leader Jiang.
"As for the Lan, well. Zewu-jun and Hanguang-jun are both yours, Yao'er. I considered Lan Qiren, just to imagine the look on his face!" He guffaws.
Meng Yao laughs too, because he doesn't know what else to do.
"I did desire him when we were young and studying together in Cloud Recess. He was a cold and distant kind of beauty. Now, though, he's too old to truly be my concubine." He sighs. "I chose a robust female cultivator instead, a cousin of the twin jades. I'll give you siblings, Yao'er, to make up for the ones those dogs stole from you."
Meng Yao does his best to look grateful.
Chapter 3: You have no idea how relieved I am to see you
Summary:
Meng Yao examines his new rooms in the Fire Palace. They're huge, luxurious, and contain one scantily clad, tied up Lan Xichen.
Notes:
We are finally diverting from I'm asking for a smaller heart!
Chapter Text
His new rooms are large. His old ones could fit inside them probably four times over. There’s a bedroom with the most luxurious plush bed he’s ever seen, a sitting room, what he suspects is a music room or entertainment room of some kind, a small kitchenette well-stocked with tea, and a mysterious fifth room he can’t puzzle out the purpose of.
He doesn’t have the brain space to think more about it, about any of it, because Lan Xichen is on that huge plush bed, still bound, still gagged, still blindfolded, still with his ears plugged. Still dressed in that nearly-obscene red robe that manages to look sheer without actually revealing anything.
Meng Yao runs out of the room like the thick carpet is burning his feet. It takes a full ten minutes of standing in the sitting room with his hands on his knees, gasping, to pull himself out of the cloying panic, the crushing reminder that they’ve lost, that all is lost.
No, all is not lost. At the least, at the very, very least, he has been given this opportunity to protect Zewu-jun and Hanguang-jun. The man will hate him, of course. He’ll think Meng Yao was never on their side. He’ll never smile at him again, never stop another bow, never ask for a description of his mother so he can draw a portrait of her.
Lan Xichen will never call him A-Yao again.
That’s alright. At the very least, Meng Yao will be able to protect him and his brother. He’ll turn these rooms into Zewu-jun’s sanctuary, make the cage as comfortable and as kind as he possibly can. Even if he turns into a vicious thing that will kill him if he ever turns his back, Meng Yao will protect Lan Xichen.
A plan, he should make a plan. Steps, one after the other, in some kind of order. That will make this easier. If he has a plan, he won't be paralyzed anymore.
- He needs to check the rooms over for talismans: seeing, listening, and otherwise.
- If he finds any talismans or lingering spells, he will need to study them and find out who placed them.
- Once he has learned all he can from the talismans he may or may not find, he needs to destroy them as discreetly as possible.
- He needs to set up his own talismans, ones that will keep eavesdroppers from hearing anything, ones that will alert him if any foreign talismans are placed inside the rooms, ones that will prevent all spells from seeing and hearing inside.
- He needs to release Zewu-jun and explain the situation to him.
- He needs to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness.
With a plan, everything is much less overwhelming. He can do this. He can take it one step at a time.
Meng Yao combs over each inch of the rooms carefully, with his eyes, his hands, his qi. He doesn’t find anything. The rooms truly appear to be empty of outside interference. Searching the bedroom is a task, especially since he can’t bring himself to even look at Lan Xichen. He looks at literally everything else so thoroughly he memorizes every fiber in the carpet. He picks through all his things that were brought from his old rooms. He checks inside the teapots, for heaven’s sake. There’s nowhere else to look.
He freezes. Actually, there is.
It is not impossible for a talisman to have been smuggled in on Zewu-jun himself. Painted on his skin, embroidered on his robe, woven into his hair, imbued into the gag or the blindfold. It's also possible that this man might not be Zewu-jun at all. There are many ways to fake a person, fake an appearance. If the man is an enemy, Meng Yao will be in danger the instant he is untied.
Meng Yao shudders. He has to check. If he doesn’t he could lose all ability to protect Lan Xichen, whether the real one is here in his rooms or not.
The man shudders when he puts a hand on his shoulder. Meng Yao can’t do this to him, not with him so utterly vulnerable.
He plucks the wad of cotton out of Zewu-jun’s left ear. Leaning in close, so close his breath ghosts over his cheek, he whispers. “Do not be afraid. I will not harm you.” They’re the first words he’s spoken out loud since entering these new rooms. Even if it isn't Zewu-jun, that's innocuous enough to be brushed off.
To his complete shock, Lan Xichen relaxes. He must recognize his voice, it’s the only explanation.
Meng Yao checks the obvious places first: inside his sleeves, over the bindings on his wrists and ankles, on all the exposed skin, in his hair. Nothing.
There are still places he has yet to check. He will not be able to continue with his plan until he’s checked everywhere. He steels himself, rallying against the internal thrumming beat of itsnotfairIdontwantthiswhyishesofucking beautifulhewillhatemeIdontwanttodothiswhyitsnotfair
Hensheng slithers out of his sleeve. She slits that red robe cleanly off him without so much as scraping his skin. He’s not wearing anything underneath. Meng Yao forces himself to be clinical, to be detached.
After twenty minutes, he’s confident there are no talismans or spells anywhere on Zewu-jun’s body. He’s also confident this is the real Zewu-jun, the same man he hid in the brothel for weeks, the same man who called him kind and funny and competent.
He drapes a blanket over him and cuts away the blindfold. His beautiful eyes blink in the light, pupils dilated hugely. Yes. It's definitely the real Zewu-jun.
Meng Yao puts a finger to his lips. He cuts the bonds on his wrists and ankles next, and finally removes the gag.
Xichen works his jaw, wraps the blanket more firmly around himself, and sits back, looking at Meng Yao.
Right. There are still more steps to his plan, before he can speak. Before he can beg for forgiveness.
Zewu-jun watches Meng Yao work. He methodically spreads out several dozen sheets of paper, grinds two bowls of ink, and paints talisman after talisman. He thinks the other man probably wants to help, but with his cultivation sealed he can’t. He wonders if Lan Xichen hates him for not unsealing his cultivation right away.
Meng Yao would, if he knew how. He can undo the cultivation lock the Nie are known for, the qi-infused taps on the spine, and he can undo the more common cultivation lock that just suppresses qi for a few hours as well. Whatever was done to Zewu-jun is neither of those things, it feels stickier and more permanent. His golden core is still there, though, strong as ever. There is a way to undo this lock. He won’t let it be otherwise.
Zewu-jun watches Meng Yao place the talismans all around the bedroom, then the rest of the rooms. He doesn’t follow when Meng Yao leaves, and when he comes back he’s still in the same spot.
All the talismans slip into alignment with his breath. He feels them surrounding the new rooms, and finally he lets out the tense breath he’s been holding for hours.
“Alright,” he says, his voice sounding too loud in the quiet. “It’s alright to talk now.”
Zewu-jun leaps up off the bed and lunges for him. Meng Yao is expecting to be hit, or thrown, or tossed on the floor, or maybe just punched in the face. Zewu-jun wrapping his arms around him and drawing him into a tight, fierce hug and burying his face in Meng Yao’s hair was never even an option, so the fact that that’s exactly what he’s doing right now is rather startling.
“A-Yao,” he murmurs, and Meng Yao melts. “You have no idea how relieved I am to see you.”
He lets himself have this brief comfort. He needs it, if he’s going to slog through the rest of his plan.
“Zewu-jun,” he whispers back. “Are you injured?”
Slowly Xichen releases him. “No. Are you?”
“No.”
The taller man pulls him to sit on the edge of the bed. Meng Yao braces himself, and opens his mouth.
He gives the things he knows Xichen will want to know the most first: that, as far as he knows, Lan Qiren, Lan Wangji, and Nie Mingjue are alive. He saw Lan Wangji just a few hours ago, unharmed in the upper level of the dungeon. He knows that Lan Qiren has not been imprisoned, and is probably still in Cloud Recess. The Unclean Realm has not been breached, and Nie Huaisang is hiding inside.
A fluttering sigh of relief escapes from Xichen’s mouth. “Thank you, A-Yao.”
He presses his lips into a hard line. “There’s more.”
He explains that they are in the Fire Palace, in Meng Yao’s new rooms. That the sunshot campaign was officially declared a failure. He tells him that Nie Mingjue is in the lowest levels of the dungeon and he has not seen him. He tells him that Wei Wuxian is dead, Wen Ruohan has his tiger seal, and is planning on declaring himself emperor. The Jin have already surrendered and accepted his rule, and a slew of smaller sects followed that lead. He tells him that the Jiang are completely destroyed, that Jiang Wanyin is also imprisoned here, and that while Jiang Yanli had supposedly been safe in Lanling, after the Jin surrendered, Jin Guangshan handed her over without a fuss. With a shudder, he tells him that Wen Ruohan plans on taking concubines from each of the major sects, but has said he will not take Lan Xichen or Lan Wangji.
“...he said the two of you were for me,” he adds in a tiny voice.
Xichen’s eyebrows only raise a minute increment. “Your station here is so favorable?”
Meng Yao has no idea how he will explain his position in Qishan. He hardly understands it himself. “I think… Wen Ruohan has mentioned wanting to adopt me,” he whispers. “I think he is searching for a replacement for Wen Xu and Wen Chao. He started making me call him ‘father’ this morning, and refers to himself as my ‘a-die’.”
Xichen’s eyes get a little bit brighter. “That may work to our advantage. You should let him adopt you, it will keep you safe.”
He knows that. Meng Yao just wasn’t expecting Xichen to know that.
“So, he wants Wangji and I to be, what, your concubines?” He asks after a long silence.
Meng Yao sputters. “No!” he scrubs at his face. “Well, maybe. He… Wen Ruohan knows that you… well, that I. Um. He knows that I…” he bites on his tongue. How can he possibly tell Lan Xichen that he’s hopelessly enamoured with him, and somehow Wen Ruohan picked up on that?
“That you have feelings for me?” Lan Xichen asks.
He nods, looking down at his lap.
“I do, too. Well, for you, I mean. A-Yao.”
Meng Yao’s head snaps up. “You have feelings for me?”
Xichen blushes a bit, starting from the tips of his ears and creeping down the sides of his face. “I do. Very much so.”
Meng Yao’s heart, starving little thing that it is, is shouting for more. He licks his lips, they’re too dry, he wishes he had a cup of tea or something in his hands to distract him a bit. “He didn’t give either of you to me as concubines, not explicitly. He said I should marry you, if I want. Hanguang-jun was given to me to ensure your good behaviour.”
A wide smile is certainly not a reasonable response to any of that. Why the fuck is Zewu-jun smiling?
“Do you want that, A-Yao?”
His mind comes screeching to an abrupt halt.
What kind of stupid question is that?! Of course he does, what fool wouldn’t drop everything to marry Lan Xichen, Zewu-jun, the Lord of Wild Brilliance, the most beautiful young master of his generation, the first jade of Lan himself?
“I can protect you,” is what he says instead of any of that. “It will be in name only, to keep you safe, to keep Hanguang-jun safe--”
A finger pressed over his lips makes him go quiet. “A-Yao. I do not want to marry you in name. I want to marry you, full stop.”
Meng Yao laughs helplessly. “This is not a very good time to be thinking of romance, Zewu-jun.”
“We can protect one another,” Xichen insists. “Together. We can mitigate the damage, protect others as well.”
Really, at this point he should have gotten to step four by now, which was getting down on his knees and begging for forgiveness. Does Zewu-jun have any idea how badly he is derailing his plan, the plan that is the only thing keeping Meng Yao in one piece?
Obviously not, because he just frowns and cups Meng Yao’s cheek. “You moved my heart like no one and nothing else ever has, from the first moment I saw you.” A flicker passes over his eyes, something dark and sad. “Was it not the same for you?”
“You did not just move my heart,” he says before he can think twice, because really, does Zewu-jun truly have no idea that everything Meng Yao is, everything he has, belongs to him? He seems so earnest, so honest in his confusion. “You moved my entire world, you shifted my body and my mind and my soul so completely and irrevocably that there could never be anyone else.”
Xichen laughs at that, throwing his head back in an expression of utter joy. It’s ridiculous, they’re in enemy territory trying to find a way to survive! Zewu-jun is wearing nothing but his forehead ribbon and a blanket, for heaven’s sake!
Meng Yao laughs with him.
“Marry me,” Lan Xichen says once they’re done laughing. “And together, we will find a way out of this. We will save everyone we can, protect everyone we can. Together.”
He gulps. “You… you really think we can?”
At some point Xichen moved close enough to press their foreheads together. “You are brilliant, A-Yao, and you have survived here for these past two years without getting caught, while working your way so deeply into Wen Ruohan’s heart he wishes you to be his son. You can teach me to do the same, I will learn. I’ve always been a dutiful student. Eventually he will let down his guard, and we will tear his empire apart from the inside.”
An odd feeling settles in Meng Yao’s chest. Something strong, something like surety. He thinks, distantly, that it might be conviction.
He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again to gaze into Xichen’s and soak up the affection in them, his heart and mind have coalesced around a new plan. A new way forward.
He grasps Xichen’s hands. “Yes,” he says.
Xichen smiles, hugely, and leans in. He’s going to kiss him, Lan Xichen is going to kiss Meng Yao, and Meng Yao can’t do anything but lean forward to meet him.
Right before their lips touch, Xichen halts and makes a face.
Meng Yao freezes as well. “Er… Zewu-jun?”
Reaching into his right ear, Xichen pulls out a wad of cotton and tosses it onto the floor. They both look at it. “Ah. So that was what’s been making my ear itch.”
Another unexpected laugh is punched out of Meng Yao, abandoning the brief guilt at forgetting the second piece of cotton to just giggle hysterically at the sheer absurdity of the situation.
Xichen cups the back of his neck, and leans in, and kisses the laughter from Meng Yao’s mouth.
Chapter 4: We cannot save everyone
Summary:
Meng Yao and Lan Xichen play catch, make a plan, and try to come to terms with how little power they actually have.
Chapter Text
To Meng Yao’s continued surprise, the plan falls into place neatly, almost effortlessly. Lan Xichen does not judge him for his more ruthless suggestions, he weighs everything equally and considers if it will work. Within thirty minutes of their negotiation beginning, Meng Yao is holding nothing back, pulling no punches.
“I will tell Wen--” he cuts himself off, he’s trying to get in the habit of calling Wen Ruohan his father even in private, even in the sanctity of their rooms, he’s scared of slipping up somewhere less safe and being overheard. “I will tell my father that I believe I have your devotion almost entirely, but you still need another push. A little bit of kindness. I’ll suggest we allow Hanguang-jun to go free, to return to Cloud Recess to be with Grandmaster Lan and rule over what’s left of the Lan.” He flexes his fingers. “I am not certain he will buy it, but I want your brother out of Qishan as soon as possible.”
Xichen nods thoughtfully. “It is worth trying, if you are certain it will not damage your position.”
“I do not think so,” he answers.
He smiles. “If he does allow it, we must be certain to make it worth Wen Ruohan’s trust in you. I can think of a few ways to do that.”
Meng Yao raises a brow. “Well, let’s hear it.”
“I could approach him as a potential suitor, going to his intended’s father to formally ask for your hand in marriage. If he enjoys being parental to you so much, I’m certain he would enjoy that.” He taps the end of the brush he’s been fiddling with against his lips. “I could also request an audience with him, get on my knees, and beg as best I can for mercy for my sect and family.” His eyes shine sadly for a moment. “Or, I could do both. Do you think both would be too much, A-Yao?”
While it’s a little difficult not to get upset about the prospect of Xichen groveling for his loved ones to be spared, Meng Yao manages to ruthlessly distance himself from the thought. “Not too much, I don’t think.” He spins the leather ball between his fingers. It’s one of his few childhood toys he still has, worn and familiar in his hands. “He likes to lord over people and feel powerful. He likes being begged for mercy, and in my experience the only way to get it from him is groveling. He also likes getting to provide, or at least to feel like he’s providing, for those he has power over and likes. He knows this is what I want, and if he thinks he can... gift me your affection, he'll do it.” He spins the ball again, then brings it to a sharp stop with his palms. “Catch, Zewu-jun.” He tosses the ball at the other man’s chest.
Xichen drops the clean brush into his lap and catches the ball in one hand, easy as anything. He runs his finger over the neat stitching that holds the ball together, then balances it on the tip of his index finger and spins it. Meng Yao never did manage to pull that off. “You’ll have to stop calling me that,” he responds. “Here, back to you.” He tosses the ball under hand, letting it swing in a wide arc above their hands before it falls neatly into Meng Yao’s hands.
“I think I can convince him not to strip you of your title,” he says, tossing the ball back and forth between his hands.
He chuckles. “Well, be that as it may, it is not commonplace for a husband to call his own by his title, is it?”
Meng Yao flushes, feeling utterly stupid that that hadn’t ocurred to him. “Oh.” He spins the ball again, fighting the temptation to hide behind it. “Well, what should I call you, then?”
He holds out his hand, asking for the ball, and Meng Yao throws it to him one-handed. “You could just call me Xichen,” he muses. He spins the ball on his fingertip again. Meng Yao should not find that as absurdly attractive as he does. “Or Huan, which is my birth name.”
Meng Yao once agains feels stupid for being so surprised that the first jade has a birth name, just like everyone else.
Xichen smiles serenely. “Or,” he says, his tone just a hair sweeter than before, “you could call me gege.”
Meng Yao sputters, flustered and taken by surprise, both by the suggestion itself and the little spark of heat it ignites in him. “You are an incorrigible flirt, did you know that?”
“Or da-ge,” he continues thoughtfully, his grin starting to turn smug. “I am older than you, right?”
They compare birthdays, and discover that Xichen is two years and four months older.
“So,” Meng Yao says, determined both to get them back on track and to have some sort of petty revenge. “A-Huan, I think your idea to approach my father to officially ask to wed me and to beg for clemency for the Lan holds water.”
His eyes go wide and his jaw drops for a moment. Meng Yao grins. He chose correctly, then, he managed to hit on a name that nobody else has ever called him.
“You little fox,” he says, grinning ear to ear. Then he makes a valiant attempt to sober himself, which Meng Yao appreciates. “That’s what we will do if Wen Ruohan allows Wangji to return to Cloud Recess. What will we do if he does not?”
They discuss that for a while, throwing ideas on how to get Hanguang-jun out of Qishan back and forth as easily as they toss the leather ball.
“Then there is the matter of the… the concubines,” Meng Yao says. He’s been trying to spin the ball on his finger, but he keeps dropping it. On his fifth failed attempt Xichen snatches it before it can hit the bed to spin it perfectly on his own finger. “Showoff,” Meng Yao grunts. “Anyway. I don’t think there is anything I can do to help Jin Zixuan. He’s going to be here in two days, for heaven's sake. The war’s only been done for two days. Jiang Yanli is coming here with him, but as far as I can tell, W-- father intends to have her as some kind of ward, not a concubine.”
Xichen rolls the ball down into his palm and tosses it to Meng Yao. “We cannot save everyone,” he says, voice going soft and sad. “We’ll keep an eye out for an opportunity though, yes? Eventually Wen Ruohan will slip up, and we will be ready to jump on the chance the instant he does.”
“Of course.” He bounces the ball off the top of his head as he talks, the one trick he mastered as a child. Focusing on that makes it easier to just get the words out of his mouth and not panic over the memory of Wen Ruohan scheming to rape Huaisang in front of his older brother. “I am considering sending Huaisang--" bounce "--to Dongying. That’s the--" bounce "--only way I can think of to--" bounce "--keep him out of my father’s clutches. He’ll--" bounce "--search for him relentlessly, so we--" bounce "--have to get him somewhere far away.” He bounces the ball a final time, this time over to Xichen.
The first jade catches it, and spins it between his hands like Meng Yao likes to. “I have a different idea. If your father thought he had Huaisang, but actually had a very convincing fake instead, he would not be looking for him, now would he? And the actual Huaisang could be hidden somewhere much closer by.”
Meng Yao frowns, crinkling his brow. “It’s a good idea in theory, but where are we going to find someone who can impersonate Huaisang well enough to fool everyone, and is also willing to enter such a dangerous situation?”
“We won’t need anything like that.” Xichen tosses the ball back to Meng Yao, grabs the clean ink brush that was abandoned in his lap, and spreads a sheet of paper out on his blanket-covered knees. “This is an old Lan array that has mostly fallen out of use. It was originally created to help gain extra labor for work in the fields and then enhanced by senior disciple as a personal project, but I think it would suit our purposes nicely.” He dips the brush into ink and begins drawing out the array.
It’s very interesting, and a more-than-plausible solution. The array creates a physical copy of a person, that can express five core personality traits, hold reasonable conversations, and appear more or less human, while having no actual consciousness nor any ties to the person the copy was created from. It could take simple telepathic commands from whoever cast the array over great distances, transmit them information, and most importantly, it could last in the long-term. It would need refills of qi once a month or so, but Meng Yao was confident he could provide that.
“I can send a crow to the Unclean Realm,” Xichen says. “With a copy of the array, and a time for Huaisang to be placed into it. I think you should cast it, A-Yao.”
It makes sense, he is the most likely to benefit from having quick access to whatever information the copy would gather, and the least likely to have suspicion cast on him.
“Alright.” He tosses the ball behind his back and catches it. “This is a natural segway into the problem that is Chifeng-zun.”
Xichen sets the brush in the water and swirls it gently. Ink comes off it in clouds. “We cannot tell him about the fake Huaisang. Mingjue-xiong is an atrocious actor and an even worse liar. If he knows, Wen Ruohan will too.”
Meng Yao nods. “I agree.” He frowns. “It will be torture for him, though.”
Xichen’s eyes darken. “Yes,” he says softly. “I cannot think of another way. Can you? Maybe to break him out of the dungeon?”
He’s bent his considerable mind on that exact thought since he found out Chifeng-zun was imprisoned in Nightless City. “No,” he admits, unhappily. He sighs. “We can’t save everyone.”
“Mingjue is strong, and resilient. He will be alright.” He sounds almost like he’s trying to convince himself as much as Meng Yao.
Chapter 5: he looks like he stepped right out of the brothels from Meng Yao's childhood
Summary:
The Lanling contingent arrives at Nightless City, with Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan. Meng Yao makes a new ally, and isn't worried about his half-brother at all. Nope. Not even a little. He only feels disdain for him.
Meng Yao is a very good liar.
Notes:
Warning: off-screen rape that everyone knows is happening with WRH and JZX. There's also discussions of MY's childhood sexual trauma and mentions of him being raped as an adult.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Meng Yao does not recognize Jin Zixuan when he arrives. He spends more than a few seconds trying to find his half-brother in the crowd of people who came from Lanling.
Jiang Yanli looks mostly the same, and is easy to recognize. She is wearing a purple robe, her Clarity bell at her waist, and standing with a strength and pride that simultaneously makes Meng Yao want to shake her and beg her to keep her head down, and to applaud her bravery.
She seems outwardly calm, but Meng Yao can recognize that cold, steel fire in her. Simmering fury tempered only by the patience that comes with years of helplessness. He knows that feeling, knows it well, the endless mantra of wait, the time isn't right, wait, and they will give you an opening, wait, endure it, and eventually you can put a sword in the chest of your superior officer who fucked you until you bled and ignored your pleading for him to stop. Or, in Jiang Yanli's case, put a sword in the chest of the maniac who burned your home to the ground and killed your parents and your little brother and mutilated their corpses.
If he and A-Huan don't let her in on their plan, she will devise one of her own. She's already lost one beloved little brother to this war. He's certain she will do anything at all to protect the one she has left. If he can bring her in on the plan, and get her support, she will be a powerful ally. If not…
Meng Yao swallows. If not, then he will not be able to protect her or Jiang Wanyin.
He vows to talk to her in private as soon as possible. To tell her what their options are, to warn her about her brother's throat modification as gently as he can. To ask for forgiveness for his failures.
Then he finally figures out where Jin Zixuan is. Jiang Yanli stands just behind him. Meng Yao didn't recognize him because he looks like he stepped right out of the brothels from Meng Yao's childhood.
He wears drapey golden robes (the heavier fabric obscured everything and kept from being indecent but was clingy enough to show prospective clients what they could purchase), bracelets on each wrist (for making gentle little clinking noises with each motion, to draw attention to a whore's hands so the client could always know where they were). His hair is mostly down but for a simple topknot and several face-framing golden chains (loose hair is better for pulling, the chains feel good in a client's hands when they ball up a whore's hair to fuck their face--)
Meng Yao pinches himself on the arm inside his sleeves. He has to focus. He is grown, now, he is not in a brothel and he is not being taught things by the madam and the other prostitutes and occasional clients that no child of nine or ten or eleven should have ever been taught.
He greets them at Wen Ru-- at his father's side, standing at the throne's right hand. He cannot help but notice that their leading escort seems to be some high-ranking guardsmen. Not Jin Guangshan. Maybe he couldn't bear to watch his son sold off like this. Maybe he just didn't care. Maybe he had dressed and done up Jin Zixuan's hair like that himself, whispered in his son's ear to just grit his teeth and take it.
Meng Yao pinches himself again.
His father smiles and spreads his hands. "Welcome to Nightless City."
The guard leading the small procession bows, then bows lower, and then a final time all the way down to his knees. "Your excellency." Everyone follows, even Jin Zixuan. Meng Yao can feel Jiang Yanli's rage, and is a bit surprised that it has not set anyone on fire yet. Nobody seems to even notice her, not even Wen Ruohan.
"The Lanling Jin comes to present gifts to the emperor," the lead guard says into the ground.
"You may rise." Wen Ruohan stands up from his throne, hands in the small of his back, and descends the dais. Meng Yao follows him, because he is nothing if not an expert on proper decorum. "Yes, I see you have brought everything I asked for, and more."
"Of course, your excellency. Sect Leader Jin Guangshan--"
He is cut off. "He is merely Jin Guangshan, now. There is no Lanling Jin sect. Have you already forgotten? Lanling Jin is part of my empire, now, and you will refer to yourselves as such."
The guard gulps. "I apologize, your excellency. Of course. Jin Guangshan regrets that his poor health kept him from travelling here himself."
Meng Yao wants to laugh. Poor health, is that what they call it in Lanling, when you can't be bothered to care?
Wen Ruohan reaches the bottom of the stairs. "Be at ease. It is a new development for all of you, but I trust you will get used to it." He looks to Jin Zixuan. "Ah. You look very fetching, A-Xuan." Taking a step forward, he stands in front of the younger man. "How have you found Nightless City so far?"
Meng Yao can see that Jin Zixuan is trembling. He's not sure if it's fear or rage, but it is faintly rattling the decorative chains in his hair.
"Your city is beautiful, your excellency," Jin Zixuan says in a thin voice. It's fear, definitely fear.
Wen Ruohan's smile widens. He knows that Jin Zixuan is afraid too, and he seems to be relishing it. "I am so pleased. It is to be your new home, after all." He holds out his arm. "Perhaps you would allow me to show you around? I would not have my beloved first concubine getting lost. The Fire Palace is very large."
Jin Zixuan's eyes widen. He looks like a scared deer. "I--"
Wen Ruohan seizes his wrist and tucks the man's hand into the crook of his elbow. "It is no trouble. Come along, my peony. Let us get you settled, and familiarized with your new life here."
Looking dazed and a bit faint, Jin Zixuan goes with him, out of the throne room.
Meng Yao is not thinking about it. He is not thinking about where they are going. He knows, just like every other person here knows that Wen Ruohan is not taking him on a tour of the Fire Palace. At least not right away. Wen Ruohan is taking Jin Zixuan directly to his bedroom, where he will take off all those pretty clothes, and shove him on his back or his front, and fuck his new concubine until there is no question in Jin Zixuan's mind that his father sold him as a whore.
Meng Yao is not thinking about that. He isn't thinking about the little smile Wen Ruohan tossed him as he left, the smile that said he was enjoying the poetic justice of the role reversal between them. The smile that said he expected Meng Yao to take the same joy in it. To revel in being a prince while Jin Zixuan is a whore.
He isn't thinking about it. He isn't. There's nothing he can do. He cannot help Jin Zixuan. He is not worried about him. He is not crossing his fingers with the hope that his father will be gentle.
Meng Yao realizes that he is lying to himself.
He pinches his arm a third time. This is his chance to talk with Jiang Yanli. He needs to take it, grab it with both hands and not let go. He's already spoken with Wen Qing this morning, and she is in agreement, which is one powerful woman on his side, but they will need Jiang Yanli as well.
"Well, then. As his excellency is occupied, allow me to show you to your rooms, Miss Jiang. Shuili, would you see to the rest of the Lanling contingent?"
The guard bows to him. "Of course, my prince."
Meng Yao is not officially Wen Ruohan's heir or son, not yet. There are still papers to sign and announcements to make. That fact has not stopped Wen Ruohan's personal guard from calling him their prince. The twelve people that make up the guard are the emperor's most trusted confidants, and apparently he has told them to treat Meng Yao like he has already been legitimized.
Meng Yao gestures to Jiang Yanli. "Come with me, miss. I would like to discuss a few things with you."
She walks with him, eyes slightly narrowed. "I apologize, your majesty. I was not aware the emperor had any sons left alive." It's clearly meant as a barb, an insult, a reminder that his 'brothers' that he could hardly care less about are dead.
It just makes him snort quietly in amusement. She gives him another hard look, scrutinizing him head to toe. He's unsure if it will make things easier or harder if she recognizes him from the salute ceremony, back in Cloud Recess. Back when things were simpler.
She's clearly not going to take his arm, which he doesn't blame her for. Instead he sweeps it in the direction they'll need to head, and she walks with her head still high. She has nothing else to say to him, which is alright. He has nothing to say to her that can be spoken aloud outside.
Meng Yao opens the door to the rooms that have been set aside for her. He already combed through them for talismans earlier, and put up a single noise cancellation spell of his own.
"I am adopted," he says, breaking the silence that's followed them all the way from the throne room. "Not even officially yet." He bows. "Miss Jiang, you likely do not remember me, but we met at Cloud Recess. During the salute ceremony, I was with the Nie delegation."
Her eyebrows raise. "Meng Yao? I-- I did not recognize you."
Meng Yao hardly recognizes himself these days. He doesn't wear Nie braids anymore, he hasn't since he came to Nightless City. Wen Ruohan has insisted on him wearing the new robes he'd found in his rooms, all sumptuous red fabric that is probably the most comfortable thing he's ever worn in his life. With a small golden guan in his hair to complete the look, he probably seems like someone who's lived in Qishan all his life. Certainly not the guttersnipe son of a whore that he is.
Jiang Yanli, who is still gawking at him, takes a step forward. "Wait. Were you Zewu-jun's informant?"
He is immensely grateful he decided to put up the silencing spell after all. "Yes," he says quietly. "Your rooms are warded against eavesdroppers-- I did it myself, I'll hand you the spell words later-- but we need to be careful where we speak openly. There are ears everywhere, here."
She nods. "I understand."
Slowly he reaches into his sleeve. "I have something that belongs to you," he says softly. "I cannot return it to you permanently at this time, but I wanted you to to know it is in safe hands." He closes his fingers around the ring and removes it, holding it out to her in his palm.
She claps both hands over her mouth. "Zidian," she murmurs.
"The spirit inside the ring has been snarling murderously since she was taken away from young master Jiang. I think if you hold her, it may help."
She picks the ring up gently and cradles it in her palm. Lightning sparks faintly around it.
"It's alright," she murmurs. "It's me, I'm here."
The feeling of heavy static that has surrounded the weapon since he first asked his father if he could keep it as a war prize dissipates.
"I will have to give you back to Meng Yao," she says. The ring sparks angrily, and Jiang Yanli actually laughs. "I know. But it's not safe for me to keep you, they'll take you away. Meng Yao will bring you to visit me, alright?"
He sees no outward response from the metal, but she seems satisfied. She slips it onto her finger. "I'll return it in a bit," she says. She sits down on a cushion in front of the table, and gestures for him to join her. "So. Tell me what the situation is."
"Zewu-jun and I have a plan," he begins.
Meng Yao brings her up to speed as quickly as he can. The plan to protect Huaisang, the multiple different ways they've come up with to get multiple different prisoners out, the weak places they are probing at until eventually they find something they can use to topple this entire empire to the ground. He gives her the very short list of people who are in on the plan: himself, Xichen, Wen Qing, Wen Ning, Wen Caihong, who is the the chief librarian and Meng Yao's ally and confidant since the beginning, and Shi Daiyu, the only woman on Wen Ruohan's personal guard, who had also known Meng Yao was a spy before the war ended and chose to aide him rather than turn him in.
When he's done, there is less fury and more focus in her eyes. "Good. Thank you for letting me in on this."
Meng Yao swallows. "He killed your brother. It would be foolish of me to leave you to come up with your own plan when there was already another in motion."
Her eyes fill with tears at the memory of her dead brother. "A-Xian…" she grits her teeth. She does not cry, and after a moment the unshed tears sink back into her. Her face is turning frightfully blank. "Is A-Cheng dead as well?"
Meng Yao shakes his head. "No, no, he's alive. He was captured during the final battle." He takes a deep breath.
"I suppose Wen Ruohan plans a similar future for him as he does for young master Jin, then," she says, her voice dangerously even. "That is the only reason I can imagine that he would be kept alive."
Relieved he won't have to say it himself, Meng Yao nods. "And… that isn't all. First, there is a… possibility that Jiang Wanyin will still be a concubine, but not my father's concubine." He explains about Xue Yang, and the rogue cultivator he is apparently obsessed with, but how he's said he will take Jiang Wanyin as second-best.
Her eyes go dark. "You will do all you can to find this rogue cultivator and make sure Xue Yang keeps his eyes on him, rather than A-Cheng."
The fury in her voice takes him by surprise. He'd always thought of Jiang Yanli as being heart-stoppingly kind, much like Xichen, and her sudden vehement insistence that they throw a stranger to the mercy of someone like Xue Yang to protect her brother catches him off guard.
We can't save everyone, he reminds himself.
"Do you understand me, Meng Yao?" She says, firm as iron, eyes flashing dangerously. Zidian sparkles on her finger.
He remembers who her mother is, then, and he nods. "Yes. I will do everything in my power to keep your brother out of Xue Yang's hands."
She nods. "Good. You said there was something else, as well?"
He gathers himself. "Yes. On the day of the final battle I was… well, it doesn't matter, but I was not doing well and was sequestered in my rooms. I was not told anyone had been captured or that the Fire Palace had even been attacked until the day after the war ended. Therefore I was too late to intervene when Xue Yang and my father decided to try an experimental procedure on Jiang Wanyin, that completely destroyed his voice."
She goes pale. "...completely?"
A harsh pang of guilt hits him. He doubts he could have stopped it, but he still wished he had gotten the chance to try. "I am unsure of the degree to which his voice was damaged, but as the procedure was one I invented-- though I never tried it!-- I have a fair idea of what it may result in. I doubt he will ever be able to form words again." He shuts his eyes. If she hits him, he wouldn't blame her. He can find a way to explain or hide any marks she might leave. "I'm sorry."
"It was not your doing."
He opens his eyes. "I will do my best to bring your brother in on this as well. I think I can arrange for you two to see each other soon, if you are cooperative and seen to be fostering a friendship with me, it is likely I will be able to set up meetings between you. I grew up in Yunmeng, it makes a lot of sense I would want to get to know you and your brother."
"And by doing so, you can minimize A-Cheng's time with Wen Ruohan," she muses. Then she bows. "Thank you, your majesty."
He shuffles his feet, feeling awkward. "You, uh. Don't have to call me that. Not when we're alone, anyway."
Jiang Yanli gives him a little smirk. "Well, I will have to in public. And we wouldn't want me to get out of the habit. That's why you keep calling Wen Ruohan your father, right?"
A laugh is startled right out his chest. "You and I are far more alike than I initially imagined," he says.
Notes:
Is anyone curious to know about what happens with WRH and JZX? I've written it, and it's dark and awful, and I could totally post it if there's interest, but if there isn't I'll probably refrain.
Update: here y'all go lmao click at your own risk
Chapter 6: There is nothing here for Xiao Xingchen but absolute ruin
Summary:
Xiao Xingchen is kidnapped from his bed in the Baixue temple and delivered to Xue Yang. Meng Yao and Jiang Yanli launch their plan to get Jiang Wanyin out of Nightless City.
Notes:
Guess who's sick again *raises hand* well, sicker than normal anyway. And apparently I now make myself feel better by posting fanfic chapters early. Which is weird but it seems to work.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Meng Yao greets the group of nine guards in the receiving room of the Fire Palace with a shallow bow. He knows he should maybe try to get out of the habit. But it's routine, it's soothing, it's a script he knows down to his bones and he needs to be soothed right now.
There is nothing here for Xiao Xingchen but absolute ruin, from the moment the daozhang is drug, kicking and screaming, into the Fire Palace. He's wearing only a thin sleeping robe, his hair is down. He's blindfolded and his hands are tied together at the wrist, with a longer rope trailing off like a leash. It's by this leash that the poor rogue cultivator is drug all the way over to Meng Yao. The skin there is raw and bloody, the rope ruined.
"Did you snatch him right out of bed?" Meng Yao asks with a raised eyebrow.
The team who went to retrieve Xiao Xingchen was led by Wen Fuhe, Wen Ruohan's cousin, sworn brother, and the seniormost member of the emperor's personal guard. He bows to Meng Yao and gives an affectionate smile, like he's already his nephew.
"We actually did, my prince. He was curled up, waiting for his cultivation partner to come home to him. Very sweet." It's clear from his tone how little he thinks of this sweetness.
But that is an unforeseen problem. "Xue Yang did not mention he had a cultivation partner."
"What does Xue Yang have to do with this?" Xiao Xingchen demands. "Who are you people, and where am I?"
"He is exceptionally pretty," the guard on his right says. He grabs a handful of Xiao Xingchen's hair. "Do you think that little fucker would mind if we break him in a bit?"
He opens his mouth, to say that for one Xue Yang would absolutely mind, and for another Meng Yao wouldn't stand for it, but then Xue Yang himself strides lazily into the room and the guard who spoke goes sheet-white.
"It's so good to see you again, daozhang," Xue Yang purrs.
Xiao Xingchen yanks on his bindings so hard that the guard holding his leash almost falls. "Xu… Xue Yang?" His voice trembles.
"In the flesh," he giggles. "I told you we were destined to meet again." He holds out his hand. "Give him to me."
The guard passes the rope into Xue Yang's hands.
Xiao Xingchen jerks away again. "Where am I?"
Xue Yang snickers. "At my mercy, daozhang, that's all you need to know." He pulls and Xiao Xingchen stumbles, directly into the other man's arms. "Mine, and mine only." His sharp eyes land on the guard who had pulled Xiao Xingchen's hair. "Mm. Yao-ge, would you hold this for me?" He shoves Xiao Xingchen at Meng Yao, hard enough to nearly knock them both over.
"Be still," he hisses in the rogue cultivator's ear while bracing himself on the wall behind him. "You are in Nightless City, in the Fire Palace of Wen Ruohan. Xue Yang asked for you by name as a concubine in reward for his loyal service to Wen Ruohan. I wish I could help you more." Louder, he snaps, "Xue Yang! Put your sword away. If you have a grievance with one of the guards here, take it up with the emperor. He may well give you permission to do whatever vile thing is running through your head, but remember who is in charge here."
Giggling hysterically, Xue Yang's sword vanishes into his sleeve. "I wasn't gonna cut him too bad, Yao-ge!"
Meng Yao rolls his eyes. He holds out Xiao Xingchen's leash. "Here. Don't be too hard on him, or people will say the hospitality here is lacking."
He takes the leash. "If you say so." Then he's dragging the poor man out of the receiving room.
When Meng Yao watched Jin Zixuan be marched away by Wen Ruohan, he had at least some idea of the fate the man was going to. But he has no idea what awaits Xiao Xingchen behind closed doors. Probably the kind of brutality Meng Yao hasn't seen since he was nine or ten and one particularly bad client was finally banned from the brothel.
He hardens his heart. He can't save everyone. It is either Xiao Xingchen or Jiang Wanyin, he has to pick one. He's made his decision.
Speaking of Jiang Wanyin, now that Xiao Xingchen is in Xue Yang's hands, it will not be long until he is officially made part of the emperor's harem. Meng Yao needs to warn him.
Fortunately, he already has a meeting set up. Ostensibly a reward for Jiang Yanli's cooperation, Meng Yao has been allowed to escort her to visit her brother.
He is accompanied outside of the Fire Palace by Shi Daiyu, one of his few confidants from before the war ended. Daiyu was Wen Xu's closest friend. The two of them were always joined at the hip. Wen Ruohan called them platonic soulmates.
Then Wen Xu died, and Shi Daiyu will never forgive Wen Ruohan for not allowing her to be on the battlefield at his side. She had begged to join him when his forces clashed against Nie Mingjue's. Wen Ruohan refused, and Wen Xu died. Three days later Daiyu visited Meng Yao to ask plainly if he was supplying information to the other side, and demanded that she be allowed to help.
"It really is a lovely day," he observes as they walk the grounds toward the cottage that serves as Jiang Yanli's comfortable prison. Apparently the rooms originally given to her were needed for something else. Setting up new talismans was a pain, but now they had two safe spaces in which to do their planning.
"Certainly, my prince," she agrees. She is about the same height as Meng Yao, with the same delicate bone structure that he has. Unlike most cultivators, Daiyu does not wield a sword. She does not wield a saber, either. Her weapon is a five-foot long spiritual spear, with a golden tip that flares into a sunburst shape that has five cutting edges. Meng Yao has never seen a weapon like that before, never even heard of one. He's never seen her wield it.
They knock on the door of her cottage. There are no talismans keeping her locked in, nor any spying on her. She has two guards, who rotate duty every few hours. Her cultivation was deemed too weak to bother with sealing. All that's been done to subdue her is the confiscation of her sword.
Meng Yao thinks that Wen Ruohan is a fool for how deeply he underestimates her.
Jiang Yanli opens the door and bows. "Your majesty. You are punctual as always."
He smiles, and offers his arm. "I strive for timeliness always, Miss Jiang. It is nice to see it appreciated." He gestures to Daiyu. "I would like to introduce you to Shi Daiyu, one of my father's personal guards, who often sees to my safety when I am outside the direct walls of the palace."
He sees the recognition in her eyes, she remembers the name from their conversation. Was that really only two days ago? It feels like a lifetime.
Daiyu bows. "It is lovely to meet you, Miss Jiang."
She smiles. She has a very specific, open smile she gives when she is facing an ally. "Likewise."
"I have news," Meng Yao tells Yanli as they walk. He doesn't call it good news or bad news, because he can't bring himself to say this development is either good or bad. "Xiao Xingchen was captured last night and arrived here not long ago. Your brother is safe from Xue Yang."
She dips her head. "That is good to hear. I assume you had something to do with the expedience?"
Unfortunately, he did. "I briefly encountered Xiao Xingchen before the war. I remembered that his companion was from the Baixue Temple. I merely suggested they look there first."
Nobody bothers them as they stride through the Fire Palace. The upper levels of the dungeon are clean and well-lit, and he is thankful he doesn't have to take Yanli any farther down.
"Leave us," he says to the guards who meander around the upper level. "Miss Jiang has earned some time mostly alone with her brother. Daiyu and I will supervise."
They don't dare disobey him. The feeling of power is unexpected and heady.
The moment they are alone, Yanli rushes to the bars. Meng Yao barely has time to catch her. "Wait. I'll let you in, but there is a talisman of burning over the open spaces between the bars." He turns the key in the lock.
Jiang Wanyin practically leaps into his sister's arms. She pets his hair and hums quietly.
"It's alright, A-Cheng," she says when he tries to speak. "I've been told about what happened to your throat."
He scowls, and points at Meng Yao. Jiang Yanli sighs. "Meng Yao is on our side. He always has been. He was Zewu-jun's informant."
Jiang Wanyin's eyes widen.
Meng Yao rifles in his qiankun sleeve and pulls out a sheet of paper and a writing stick. "Here. This will help." He passes them both to Jiang Yanli.
She brings her brother up to speed. Once that's done, she explains Meng Yao's plan to help get him out of Nightless City and Wen Ruohan's harem.
"We are staging an escape for you," she says. "Meng Yao has Zidian, A-Cheng, so you won't be unarmed. As soon as the Unclean Realm falls and the fake Huaisang is brought here, Wen Ruohan will be hosting a huge victory banquet. He will be very busy, busy enough to make little mistakes. Meng Yao will ask to borrow you. You can escape while in his care, because you will be able to retrieve Zidian from his person and fight."
Jiang Wanyin writes something on his paper.
"It is possible to force your way out of the Wen cultivation lock," she answers whatever his question was. Probably about how he could be expected to wield Zidian without his spiritual energy. "It can cause a moderate amount of damage due to the backlash, but you won't have to. Meng Yao knows how to undo it."
He writes something else. Her face twists.
"I'm staying here, A-Cheng. I'm part of the plan to take down Wen Ruohan and avenge A-Xian." She strokes his head. "It will be alright. But I can't come with you."
Fervently he shakes his head and writes more.
Jiang Yanli looks startled "Oh. Meng Yao, he wants to stay and help. He says he won't leave without me and he wants to avenge A-Xian as well."
Meng Yao raises his eyebrows. One one hand, having eyes and ears that aren't the duplicate Huaisang inside his father's chambers will come in handy. On the other, he could die. Any of them could. Even if he lives… life as Wen Ruohan's concubine isn't something he would wish on anyone.
He steps inside the cell. "You understand that you will be my father's concubine, which will involve a lot of sex? You understand it will be exceptionally dangerous, and quite possibly violent? You understand that it may be a while before I can offer another opportunity to escape?"
He licks his lips and nods. He scribbles atop the paper.
I understand. That fucker killed my brother, destroyed my home and slaughtered my family. Where would I even go if I ran? I want to help take him down.
Well, at least these siblings are consistent. "If you're absolutely sure."
Jiang Wanyin sets his jaw. Trying to convince him to take this opportunity to leave is going to be just as pointless as getting Jiang Yanli to keep her head down, he realizes.
Miss Jiang is combing through her brother's messy hair. "Are you really sure about this, A-Cheng? You won't be safe. You won't be able to… to save yourself for your spouse."
Jiang Wanyin scribbles on the paper. Who would want me as a spouse anyway? And I will be able to get close to him.
Jiang Yanli sighs. She closes her eyes. "If you change your mind. If he hurts you. If you get scared. If anything happens you have to tell us, and we will find a way to get you out."
Meng Yao gives the other man a very brief crash-course in sex between two cisgender men. He explains how best to avoid tearing, how to relax when no or minimal oil is used, how to make his throat go slack. He explains how it isn't shameful to try and make an assault, or unwanted attentions, as tolerable as possible when there is no chance for escape or mercy.
Jiang Wanyin looks at him differently after that.
"That's all the time we have," Daiyu says. "If we stay longer than our allotted time, we will soon be interrupted."
Yanli hugs her brother one last time before they leave.
"He seems… tenacious," Meng Yao says as he escorts her back to her cottage.
"Stubborn," she corrects. She fidgets. "Will you… will you be able to keep an eye on him? He has a bad habit of hiding his pain from me."
"I will do everything I can, Miss Jiang. I swear it."
Meng Yao returns to his rooms with a large tray of food. Inside, Xichen sits on a cushion, meditating. He's been here for several days now, he hasn't left Meng Yao's room once. With his status only a hazy 'war prize, probably', he's unsure if Xichen will be safe anywhere else.
His brilliant brown eyes open, and he smiles. "A-Yao. Welcome back."
Meng Yao is helpless to do anything but smile back, in the face of such joy and such beauty. "Zewu-jun. Thank you."
He arches an eyebrow, smiling still. "We have discussed this. You're not to call me that."
The fact that he'd genuinely forgotten is grating. He only has so much space in his mind, after all, and his mind is very full right now. "Right. A-Huan."
A touch of something intimate creeps into that smile. "I like hearing my name in your mouth."
A wave of confused arousal washes over him. "Oh…" he busies his hands with serving tea and setting out lunch for them. He coughs. "You can't just say things like that," he mutters, feeling flushed up to the top of his head.
Xichen chuckles. "I speak only the truth, A-Yao." He takes the cup of tea Meng Yao pours him, letting their fingers brush. Even though it's just hands, the feeling is electric and it lights up every inch of Meng Yao's body. He actually whimpers when Xichen's touch is gone, and instantly wants to die of mortification.
"Did I hurt you?" Xichen's brow is creased.
"No! No," he says immediately. "I just, ah. It feels good. When. When you touch me." He's going to combust any second now.
Xichen's ears flush, but he looks exceptionally pleased. "I'm glad."
Meng Yao clutches his own cup of tea. "Not a lot of people touch me. Not casually or kindly. I'm too filthy for that."
Xichen's brilliant smile fades into a grimace. "A-Yao is not filthy."
Meng Yao swallows a bite of rice. "I'm the son of a whore. Of course I'm filthy."
He nearly leaps up when Xichen stands. "...Zewu-jun?"
Xichen sits down next to him on the other side of the table, puts both his hands around his waist, and lifts Meng Yao in his lap. He has an even easier time doing so than Wen Ruohan, mostly because Meng Yao isn't fighting the hold. He's stunned, but not afraid, when Xichen coaxes him to lean back against his chest.
"Being the son of a whore doesn't make a person filthy. Being a whore doesn't make a person filthy. It's only a profession, A-Yao. And you're not supposed to call me that." He picks up Meng Yao's chopsticks. "You should eat. I can hear your stomach growling."
Ah. It had been making noises, that was true. He hoped Xichen wouldn't notice. "Well, give me back my chopsticks and I'll eat."
Instead of giving them back, the other man scoops up some rice and offers it to him. "Here, A-Yao. Eat."
Meng Yao feels a bit dizzy. He opens his mouth to say that he can feed himself, but the second he does it's full of rice. He can either chew and swallow, or be extremely rude and spit it out. He chooses to chew instead.
"There we go," Xichen says. He kisses Meng Yao's cheek, which makes him melt. His eyes drift closed, and it's lucky that he already swallowed the rice, otherwise it would have fallen out of his mouth.
"You…" he flounders for words. His hand closes around Xichen's wrist, the one holding the chopsticks. "You don't… have to."
The hand that isn't holding the chopsticks is tucked into his side, the arm strong and comfortingly warm around his waist. "But I want to." He tugs his hand out of Meng Yao's grip. "May I? I worry that you aren't getting enough to eat. I know you skipped breakfast." He scoops another bite of rice. "Please, just let me? I want to, and while I'm stuck in here, all I can contribute to the plan is keeping you healthy and on your feet. Please?"
Was it even possible to say no to such a request? Maybe a stronger person could have managed it.
Meng Yao opens his mouth, and allows Xichen to feed him. He eats most of the rice, and a bit of seaweed, and then finally and thrillingly a few dozen soybeans directly from Xichen's fingers.
"That was good," he hums, leaning back against the firm chest bracketing him. At least he can go to his meeting with Wen-- with his father feeling comfortable and full.
He's meeting with his father today, before dinner, to discuss Xichen, and Hanguang-jun. Lan Qiren is going to be here tonight, the Lan are here to drop off the woman Wen Ruohan picked as his Lan concubine. Meng Yao's plan is to convince his father to allow Lan Wangji to return to Cloud Recess with his uncle.
He knows that he may have to say some cruel and uncharitable things about Zewu-jun to make his father believe Xichen won't betray them, that after they release Hanguang-jun, he'll have him bent to his will. That he will surrender the Gusulan. He may have to say things about his weaknesses and how he is a fool in love. How Meng Yao is confident in his assessment that that Zewu-jun can be manipulated fairly easily.
"You will do wonderfully," Xichen tells him. "No matter what you have to say about me, I'll forgive you. I trust you, A-Yao. You'll do what you must."
Meng Yao is sent off with a kiss that makes the whole world feel sparkling and brilliant and wonderful. His heart is light, his stomach is full. He nearly skips to his father's rooms.
The happy bubble doesn't even burst when Jin Zixuan answers the door. He bows before his mind catches up with his body, before he can remember that he really isn't supposed to bow to a concubine. Luckily he seems to just ignore it.
His half brother is… very scantily clad. He wears a red robe made of completely sheer fabric. Under the robe he wears a clingy, matching set of blood red shorts and shirt. He vanishes into the bedroom instantly after letting Meng Yao in.
"Good evening, Yao'er," Wen Ruohan says. A servant is doing his hair. "Are you certain I cannot convince you to join us for dinner with the Lan delegates?"
Meng Yao shakes his head. "I would prefer to finish sorting the treasure from the Ouyang. I'm very near to being finished with it all."
"You don't have to work so hard," he says. "Your place here is secure and not conditional on your performance."
A little hitch in Meng Yao's chest makes his heart hurt. When has a home ever not been conditional on his performance?
"But I know you enjoy it, my son, the work is soothing. I'm glad. This is a small enough dinner that you do not have to attend, if you do not want to." He waves a hand and the servant who was fussing over his hair stops to pass him a mirror. "Mm, that will do. Thank you."
The servant leaves.
"You mentioned that you are making progress with Lan Xichen?"
Meng Yao nods. He sits on the couch across from his father. "Yes. He is besotted with me."
Ruohan raises an eyebrow. "I am honestly not that surprised. You are easy to love, Yao'er. Has he been cooperative?"
He doesn't believe the bit about him being easy to love, but he brushes it aside. "He has been excellent to me. When I returned to my rooms after seeing to Miss Jiang, I sat on his lap and had him feed me lunch. He was very eager to do so."
The emperor chuckles. "I suppose I should not be surprised you already have him wrapped around your finger."
"I have offered him a deal." Meng Yao folds his hands in his lap. "For his continued cooperation with you and I, I have offered to allow for Lan Wangji to return to Gusu."
Ruohan looks shocked for a moment. "He will be harder to control without his brother here, my son."
"But he will be more trusting," Meng Yao points out. "And, if he does act out, it is not as if we will struggle to recapture Lan Wangji."
"That is true," he muses. "But the Lan have not joined our empire yet, not officially."
Even though he was fairly confident in his plan, and more confident in his ability to manipulate Wen Ruohan, he's still relieved when the conversation goes exactly as he planned.
"His continued cooperation means more than just serving me, father," Meng Yao says. "He wanted me to request an audience with you, to further discuss things."
Ruohan's eyes glimmer. "An audience? I see. Tomorrow, after lunch."
Meng Yao nods. Inside, he is dancing with joy and relief. "What do you think of this idea? Am I being naive to think that allowing Hanguang-jun to return home will actually win me his devotion and obedience?" He allows a bit of uncertainty to trickle onto his face. "Zewu-jun's weakest point is his family, he'll sacrifice himself a thousand times for their sake. I do think that, if he is allowed to relax and know that his good behavior is what keeps his brother and uncle safe, what allows them to live in peace, he will be the picture of obedience."
Wen Ruohan gives him a slow, thoughtful look. For a brief moment Meng Yao is terrified. Does he know? Did he somehow miss a talisman in his rooms, or were they spied on earlier during the discussion with Jiang Wanyin?
Then the emperor nods. "It is not wrong to hope for things to be easy, my son. I will allow Hanguang-jun to return to Gusu with grandmaster Lan. And, if you are wrong, it will be a simple thing to recapture him and bring him back here."
Relief washes through Meng Yao. He allows some of it out, twists it into a grateful smile. "Thank you, father. I have faith in this plan."
Ruohan puts a kiss on the top of his head. It always makes Meng Yao a little light-headed. "We shall see."
Notes:
Anyone curious about how the dinner with Lan Qiren went? Check out ch.2 of Peony Petals.
And, if you're itching for elaboration on the Xuexiao, there's an extra for that too!
Chapter 7: Willing and eager, your excellency.
Summary:
Once granted an audience with the emperor, Lan Xichen begs for two favors. He gets what he asked for, and more. Afterward, Meng Yao puts a member of Wen Ruohan's guard with wandering eyes back in his place, and they touch base with another ally.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
They stop outside the throne room. Meng Yao is on Xichen's arm, like a proper courting couple, even though there is nothing proper about their situation yet.
"Are you ready?" Meng Yao whispers.
"I am ready," Xichen whispers back.
They prepared for this, they practiced. Xichen knows what to expect, Meng Yao has told him exactly how people who successfully received favors from Wen Ruohan in the past have gone about it.
- don't speak unless spoken to
- kneel as soon as he looks at you
- answer questions as quickly and concisely as possible
- do not lie
- do not flatter him
- if he says to do something small and seemingly inconsequential, do it
- do not over-humble yourself
He's still nervous.
They enter the throne room. Wen Ruohan is sitting on his throne, talking to Wen Fuhe, the oldest member of his personal guard. Kneeling on the ground by the throne is a third person, the emperor's hands tangled into their swath of dark hair.
For a brief moment he's terrified that it's Jiang Wanyin. He's being initiated some time today, he isn't sure exactly when.
Thankfully, the person is a bit too short and not quite muscular enough to be Jiang Wanyin. He takes another look, and yes, Meng Yao has an easier time recognizing him now. Jin Zixuan is on his knees by Wen Ruohan's feet, wearing only the clingy red shirt and shorts, having his unstyled hair played with absently. It seems like his arms are tied behind his back-- actually, upon further inspection, his wrists are tied to his thighs, which are tied to his ankles-- and there is something in his mouth. A gag of some kind, made of leather, and it looks like it has a protrusion that goes fairly deep into his mouth. Perhaps Wanyin hasn't been initiated quite yet.
"Yao'er!" Wen Ruohan shouts, and stands up, abandoning Jin Zixuan's hair. It falls loose around his face and shoulders. "I apologize, my son, it seems the time got away from me. Fuhe, we can finish this discussion later."
"Of course, your excellency." He bows and goes down the stairs, bowing to Meng Yao as he passes.
Xichen and Meng Yao stand at the foot of the stairs. At Wen Ruohan's beckoning hand, Meng Yao walks up to join him.
"I will have to have a smaller throne made for you," he muses. "You cannot just stand by my side all the time, you should be able to sit down. It didn't seem so important to have my heir up here when I was only leading a sect, but things are different now." His hand is in Jin Zixuan's hair again. "A-Xuan. I would like you to meet my son, the only one that still lives. You saw him briefly yesterday, but there wasn't time for a proper introduction."
Jin Zixuan looks up at him. Meng Yao looks down.
I'm sorry I couldn't stop this, he thinks. I hate you, but I didn't want this for you.
"He has not officially been given his courtesy name yet. I am waiting for the victory banquet, which cannot happen until after we breach the Unclean Realm." He smiles. "But we will breach it, soon, and hopefully between then and now we will have the rest of the sects yielding as well. Once our empire is complete, we'll have our banquet, and you will be properly shown off."
Meng Yao is so glad that they completed the array to make the duplicate Huaisang last night. When the Unclean Realm is finally breached, the fake Huaisang will be put in the Wen invader's hands. And the real one will stay safe, stay hidden. He will be spared this fate.
And maybe someday he'll be able to get Jin Zixuan out, too.
"You may call him 'your majesty', or 'my prince'," Wen Ruohan concludes with a little scratch on Jin Zixuan's head. Like he's a dog. "Now, greet him properly."
Jin Zixuan bows as best he can in his bonds, which is not very elegant and more of a strange coiling into a ball motion than a bow, but the gesture is deep enough to put his forehead on the floor.
Meng Yao wonders if he knows exactly who he is bowing to. Unlikely.
The sight still soothes one of the many snarling, slavering monsters inside his soul. Even if Jin Zixuan has no idea who he's bowing to, Meng Yao knows. If he asked, he could probably have Jin Zixuan thrown down the steps of the dais right now, still helplessly tied. There aren't nearly as many as there are leading to Carp Tower, but the thought would still count.
He throws the thought into the back of his mind and burns it. "You may rise."
"He's quite good, isn't he?" Wen Ruohan pats his head. "This evening, Wanyin will be initiated as my second concubine, so A-Xuan won't be alone anymore. Are you excited, my peony?"
Jin Zixuan says nothing, gives no reaction. Wen Ruohan, who doesn't seem to care, finally turns his attention down the stairs to Xichen. "Zewu-jun. You wished an audience with me?"
Xichen kneels, gracefully. He puts his head to the floor without being prompted, which Wen Ruohan generally appreciates. "Yes, your excellency. This humble one would beg you for two favors."
"Rise when you speak to me," Wen Ruohan says.
That surprises Meng Yao. Usually Wen Ruohan strongly prefers for people to be in the lowest kowtow they can possibly manage when asking for favors. Meng Yao told Xichen to expect being on the floor for the entire conversation.
Xichen rises to his knees, but no higher. "Your excellency," he begins. "I know I have very little to offer you, as of now. My sect is damaged, my home and family in disarray. We cannot afford to continue resisting." He bows his head. "I requested an audience to beg for your kindness in regards to our surrender, on the behalf of the Gusu Lan sect, as their sect leader." He puts his forehead on the ground again.
"Get up, Lan Huan," Wen Ruohan says sharply. "You are making Yao'er sad."
Meng Yao startles. Of course seeing the man he loves grovelling and begging for his family to be spared would upset him. He thought Wen Ruohan wouldn't notice. The fact that this tyrant has gotten so good at reading him is unnerving.
Xichen gets up, all the way to his feet this time. "Please, your excellency," he says. "Will you accept our surrender?"
His father waves his hand. "Of course. You did well to come to me, Zewu-jun. The sooner Gusu joins my empire, the sooner I can send men and funds there to begin rebuilding."
Xichen bows, just at the waist this time. "Thank you, your excellency."
He leans forward in the throne. "That is only one thing, Zewu-jun. You mentioned two favors."
"Yes, your excellency." He licks his lips, visibly working up courage. "I have been informed that you intended both myself and my brother to be given to your heir."
Jin Zixuan makes an odd little whining noise that's mostly strangled out of existence by the gag, but the sound is still audible. Wen Ruohan ignores it, waving Xichen on.
"I was also informed that you gave your son permission to marry me, if he wished. It seems the assumption was made that I would be unwilling."
Wen Ruohan hums. He's fidgeting with Jin Zixuan's hair with both hands, one knee resting on his shoulder. "Are you willing, Zewu-jun?"
"Willing and eager, your excellency." Xichen gives another little bow. "Before the war, I met Meng Yao, more than once. My heart was captured by his brilliance, his strength. When I knew him he had nothing and still was the most capable man I have ever met." The earnest words make Meng Yao's heart flutter. "He saved my life, your excellency, and moved my heart so completely and truly that I could never love another. This is how Lans are. We love once, deeply and completely."
Wen Ruohan throws his head back and laughs, so loudly it makes both Meng Yao and Jin Zixuan jump.
"Ahaha, heavens, that's why we couldn't find you after raiding Cloud Recess!" He takes one hand out of Jin Zixuan's hair to wipe a tear from his eye. "Yao'er, you clever thing, you must have hidden him well. I did not realize your feelings for him ran so deeply."
Meng Yao shuffles his feet, feeling put on the spot. He knew it was a possibility that Wen Ruohan would figure out that he was the one who hid Xichen while the Wen were mounting a massive manhunt for him. He didn't expect the maniac to find it so amusing, though.
"He was kind to me," Meng Yao says softly. "He was kind to me when there was nothing for him to gain from it. He touched my hand, twice, in front of everyone, like I wasn't filthy. Of course I protected him."
Jin Zixuan stiffens. Meng Yao knows he has finally, finally figured out who he is.
Wen Ruohan gives a curt nod. "Your loyalty is truly a wonderful thing to have," he says. "I am lucky to have it, and it seems that Lan Huan is as well." He pats the side of Jin Zixuan's head. "So, you are telling me that you are in love with my son, Zewu-jun?"
Xichen bows. "That is correct, your excellency. Lan Huan would like to ask permission from his beloved's father to court him, and to marry him. To be a proper spouse to A-Yao. I would leave Cloud Recess in my brother's care, as your excellency and the crown prince have been kind enough to allow Wangji to return, so I may give myself entirely to my husband."
Wen Ruohan grins. He looks at Meng Yao. "What do you say, Yao'er? Would you like that?"
"More than anything," he breathes. What a stupid question.
"Well, then. Do not bow to me, silly boy. You are my son's betrothed, and therefore my family as well." He narrows his eyes a bit as Xichen straightens up. "Lan Huan. Look at me."
Xichen looks up the stairs.
"You are aware that Yao'er has not had an easy life, correct?"
Meng Yao swallows. Is this a shovel talk?
"I am, your excellency."
Wen Ruohan leans forward, hands tightening in Jin Zixuan's hair. "I expect you to be a model husband to him, in every way. Adoring, respectful, loyal, devoted, gentle."
Xichen nods. "I intend to be, your excellency. Lan Huan would be thrilled to spend the rest of his life giving A-Yao everything he wants, and all the love and respect he deserves, but never received before now."
"Good. I think, between the two of us, we can make him happy, yes?" He snaps his fingers. Xichen blinks, then slowly raises his hands.
"Your excellency…" he trails off, looking shocked.
Wen Ruohan shrugs. "How can you be a proper husband to Yao'er without all your strength and power at your disposal? He deserves you in your entirety, Zewu-jun, everything you can give him. And I can think of no one better to protect my heir than his own betrothed, especially when said betrothed is one of the most powerful cultivators in the world."
He unsealed Xichen's cultivation. Meng Yao feels a bit faint. He expected to have to work for weeks more to get to this point.
"Thank you, your excellency," Xichen says, pulling himself together. "You will not regret this."
"After the two of you are officially wed, I will return your sword and xiao to you," his father promises. "I hope you understand, but I cannot trust you quite so far yet."
"I understand, your excellency." He starts to bow, but stops when the emperor raises a hand.
"I said no more bowing. Not when it is just us, family."
Xichen nods. "Alright, your excellency."
Wen Ruohan looks to Meng Yao. "Well, then. I expect you to take the rest of today off, Yao'er, to spend it with your betrothed. He's been sequestered in your rooms for so long, he must be eager to see the sights." He waves his hand. "Show him around the city, my son."
Meng Yao nods. "I will." He pauses, and looks down at Xichen, who has that glimmer around him that all powerful cultivators do again. "Thank you, father."
Wen Ruohan stands up to kiss the top of his head. "You're a good boy, Yao'er. Go relax, now."
He floats down the stairs, he's so unbalanced by the praise, and right into Xichen's arms. "Where shall we go, first, my betrothed?" Xichen murmurs in his ear. One hand is tucked into Meng Yao's side, and with his cultivation unsealed, he can feel the faint prickle now.
Reaching into his sleeve, Meng Yao pulls out a talisman. "We can use this, now," he murmurs.
Xichen's eyebrows raise. "A communication matrix?"
Meng Yao nods. "It is meant to be written into with spiritual energy rather than spoken into. I figured that would be simpler, especially if we need to discuss things where others could overhear."
Xichen cups his face and kisses him. "You are brilliant," he says fervently, and kisses him again.
Meng Yao's world spins. He throws his arms around Xichen's neck and clings to him, allowing the taller man to slip his tongue into his mouth and nibble on his lips.
They're interrupted by a gentle ahem. Meng Yao jumps.
Wen Tieyun, with a dark glint in his eye, leans against the wall with his arms crossed. "Hm. I did not expect Zewu-jun to be so weak to a pretty mouth."
Meng Yao nearly slaps him. It's not truly so much the insult as it is the way Tieyun's eyes are focused on the pair of them. Tieyun looks lustfully at almost everyone, this awful mix of bloodlust and bedroom lust that makes Meng Yao want to put the man's eyes out.
"I put in a request to have you as a concubine, did you know that, Zewu-jun?" He pushes away from the wall. "Sect leader Wen refused to even consider it. I understand why now." He smiles his tiny, flinty smile. "Do you even know how to use a man like that, Meng Yao? You're hardly an adult. Perhaps I could give you some pointers."
Meng Yao moves without thinking, because he exists for one thing, one thing only. To protect Lan Xichen.
It's completely natural, almost instinct at this point to back the man up against the wall, his knife pressing a white line into his throat. His other hand has Tieyun's wrist in a lock, his fingers bent backwards. He cringes in pain.
"If you look at him like that again," Meng Yao says softly, his hands perfectly steady. "I will carve out your eyes, shove them down your throat, and wash them down with nettle juice."
"I--"
Meng Yao slams his knee into the man's stomach, knocking the words and the breath out of him. "If you speak a single word to him again," he murmurs, "I will cut out your tongue, roast it, and let it be your last meal before I have you drawn and quartered."
Tieyun gulps. The working of his throat makes the knife break the skin, just barely. "I… I understand."
Another surge of fury makes Meng Yao dig his knee into the other man's stomach. "You understand, what?"
"I understand that I'm not to speak with him or look at him." His eyes flutter shut, face pale with fear. "My prince."
Meng Yao lets him go. "As you were."
Wen Tieyun vanishes inside the throne room with one hand over the shallow cut on his neck.
Who was that?
Meng Yao jumps when he feels the brush of the communication matrix. Oh, you activated it. Writing in the mental space is easy, it doesn't take much more effort than just thinking the words. Once in the matrix, the words linger for a few hours before fading away.
His name is Wen Tieyun. He's a torturer, and a member of Wen Ruohan's personal guard. He's known for being almost as perverse and cruel as the emperor himself, but he's had a harder life than Wen Ruohan. The only language he speaks is violence.
Xichen takes his arm. Thank you. For protecting me.
Meng Yao swallows. "I will always protect you," he promises. All he is goes into those words, his entire heart, his soul, his body. It's what he exists for.
Xichen shakes his head like he's flinging the encounter off him. "Well, we can't stay here forever. Should we go back to our rooms?"
Meng Yao shakes his head. "No, not yet. There are a few friends of mine I would like you to meet."
They go first to the library. Inside, there's a great commotion as two dozen junior librarians try to sort through a huge box of books.
This man was my closest confidant here during the war, he writes in the matrix. He knows I was a spy, and he aided me.
A feeling of surprise comes from Xichen. I did not know we had more allies in the Wen. Aside from Wen Qing and Wen Qionglin.
Meng Yao squeezes his arm. We have a few. We can also rely on one of my father's personal guardsmen, a woman named Shi Daiyu. I think you will like her.
Meng Yao bows as they approach his friend. "Caihong."
The man jumps. "Ah! Meng Yao!" He bows back. "And… I apologize, young master, but I do not know you."
Xichen bows. "I am Lan Huan, courtesy Xichen."
Caihong's brow creases. "Zewu-jun? I suppose… the Lan have joined the Wen empire, then?"
A flicker of sadness comes through the matrix. "Yes. Pride is not worth the lives of my family and sect."
Caihong waves his hand, stepping away from the bookshelf. "Come with me, so we may speak in my office."
They follow him, winding carefully through the crowd of stressed junior librarians. "You certainly seem to have acquired a lot of new books recently," Meng Yao observes.
Caihong opens the door to his office and waves them inside. "An offering from the Jin treasury." He shuts the door, and waves his hand. "Alright. My silencing talismans should be more than enough for us to speak freely." He sits down at his desk and folds his hands. "I know you. If you've given up, then there is no way out of this… mess. So, tell me. Have you given up? I heard you agreed to the adoption."
"I did." Meng Yao picks his own cushion and sits, with Xichen at his side. "But I am not giving up. There is little we can do at this point behind damage control."
He nods. His nails rap on the table. "So you plan to wait. Do what you can."
"Yes."
Caihong sighs. "Well, tell me if there is anything I can do to help. I may not be a cultivator, but I am the head librarian here. If information is what you need, I'll either have it or be easily able to acquire it."
"Thank you, Caihong," Meng Yao says softly. "Your support has been invaluable, I hope you know that."
He waves a hand. "If you say so." He pauses. "My prince." He bows at the waist. "Surely the only one of Wen Ruohan's sons with any sense. Perhaps you should just kill the old maniac in his sleep and take over as emperor. You would do well."
Meng Yao is almost flattened. "There is no way I could ever get close enough to assassinate him, not with his twelve guardsmen always being there and his own cultivation so high. We will have to wait for an opportunity to present itself."
"Indeed." He stands. "I am terribly sorry, but there is truly a lot of work to be done, and I already have three junior librarians calling for me. Perhaps we could discuss things further at a later date?"
Meng Yao and Xichen stand. "Of course."
Notes:
JC's initiation coming soon, promise!
Update: here it is! What makes a lotus bloom
Chapter 8: In honor of your lady mother
Summary:
Meng Yao is officially adopted, is told about the courtesy name he'll soon receive, and wishes things could be different.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Meng Yao signs his name on the document, and just like that, he is Wen Ruohan's son.
The man rubs his shoulder, thankfully the left one, and kisses the crown of his head. "Welcome home, Yao'er."
While neither Nightless City nor the Fire Palace have felt like a home in the two years he has been here, the fervent tone in his voice makes something in Meng Yao shake. Wen Ruohan legitimately wants him to feel at home here. Wants it badly.
And Meng Yao can't accept it. He's already vowed to take this place apart and he'll be damned if he does anything else.
It's just a shame. A home and a father certainly sounds nice.
"You'll need a courtesy name," Wen Ruohan muses.
Meng Yao is surprised he's bringing this up already. "You think so?"
He frowns. "Of course! You are my heir, Yao'er!"
Yes, he is. He's the only child of the man he knows will be emperor of the entire cultivation world within the month. It's a heady realization.
"I have one picked out for you already," he says. "Though, if you do not like it, we can discuss others."
Meng Yao is fairly sure that no one ever gets a say in their courtesy name, that's part of the tradition. But if he knows anything about Wen Ruohan, it's that he cares very little for tradition.
"What is it, father? I am sure you have chosen a fine name, and I would be honored to receive it."
Wen Ruohan smiles. He lays a piece of paper on the table and picks up a brush, swirling it in ink. "I have chosen Wen Huoyao." He writes the name on the paper, 温火瑶.
His breath catches.
"'Huo' for fire," Wen Ruohan explains. "The 'yao', as in jade, you probably noticed I have kept the same character as your birth name."
Of course Meng Yao noticed. 瑶 was the first character he ever learned how to write, tracing it over and over in the dust that accumulated on the floor. His mother said he was a treasure, a pearl, something rare and precious, and he needed to be named appropriately.
An oddly soft look takes over Wen Ruohan's face. "I made this decision in honor of your lady mother, to commemorate the name she chose for you, as she tragically never had a say in her son's courtesy name."
In honor of your lady mother, he said.
Meng Yao nearly throws himself on the floor. His mother was never a lady, not to anyone but her son.
"You've never told me," he continues, "does she have a plaque anywhere?"
For so long Meng Shi's ashes had just languished in a small ceramic pot, her son's most carefully guarded possession, carried in his sleeve. It wasn't until he was almost twenty years old and she had been dead for four years that he was able to properly put her to rest.
"Yes, father. Using most of the money I made my first year working in the Nie, I purchased a small plot of land in southern Yunmeng, where she has a plaque and her ashes are kept."
Wen Ruohan taps his chin, eyes far away. "Give me better directions on how to get there. I will send a few men to bring her remains home. There is a spot in the Wen ancestral shrine, by my late wife's plaque, where her ashes and plaque can be kept."
A shrine. Meng Shi could be put to rest in a shrine. In the ancestral shrine of a great sect, next to the sect leader's wife. Next to Wen Xu and Wen Chao's mother. People would burn incense and set out flowers and sweep the floor around her plaque every day.
Meng Yao could go see her whenever he wants.
His legs can't hold him up anymore. He collapses. "Thank you," he gasps, because he never imagined in his wildest and most indulgent dreams that something like this would happen. Meng Yao always knew he would be the only one to honor his mother, he would have to do it all on his own.
A gentle hand cards through his hair, drawing him against a warm body. "Shh, it's alright, Yao'er," his father hums, embracing him. "She must have been an amazing woman, to have created and raised you. It was not her fault she was sold into prostitution as a teenager."
How--
Meng Yao never once spoke of that, not to anyone, how did Wen Ruohan know?!
"She was ten years old when her father sold her to pay off a debt," he blurts, the words messy as his undignified sobs. He's angry, he's so angry, he's been murderously angry about this since he was ten himself and suddenly understood how young that is, how small that is, how fragile and breakable a body is at only ten, and unable to to anything but imagine his own tiny, frail body being used the same way his mothers was every night.
Wen Ruohan strokes up and down his spine with gentle fingers. He's avoiding all the injuries neatly, and it's soothing. The repetitive motion, the gentle, deep hums coming from the man's chest, the other hand in his hair stroking in time with the one on his back.
Then, Wen Ruohan speaks. "Jin Guangshan was as much a fool to throw her away as he was to throw you away. If she were still living I would wed her, of course, the mother of my heir. Her death is a tragedy, a loss for all the world. But she'll get the respect she deserves here, I promise, my son."
Wed her.
His mother, a sect leader's wife. Not a whore, not a servant, not even a concubine.
Madam Wen.
Then he is little again, eleven but looking seven or eight due to how stunted and sick and malnourished he is, and sore from being kicked in the ribs, aching from being scrunched up in a cabinet for almost an hour to hide from that awful man who sometimes bought his mother, who always pulled his hair and squeezed his cheeks if he could manage to catch Meng Yao. He's eleven and in pain and his mother is distracting that man, that awful man, keeping his attention on her and not on trying to find her little boy. Right as his mother gives a cry of pain, he hears the door open, and heavy footsteps rush inside.
"Take your hands off her."
(This is a fantasy he has had before, many times. It's familiar, if childish.)
But when little Meng Yao opens the cabinet and unwinds himself out into the room, it isn't Jin Guangshan who came for them. It's Wen Ruohan, more than a head taller than Jin Guangshan. Wen Ruohan, who, unlike Jin Guangshan, does not push the man away, and sweep up Meng Shi and her son and jump out the window into the night.
That is not what Wen Ruohan does. Instead, he grabs the client by his neck and snaps it in a single hand. The corpse flops in a heap, dropped like a sack of laundry. Wen Ruohan takes his outer robe off and drapes it over Meng Shi's bare shoulders. The thick red fabric quickly stops her shivering.
"Come here, little one," Wen Ruohan says, and holds out his arms. He lifts Meng Yao like he weighs nothing, boosting him up onto his hip, tucking the little boy against his side. "You are both coming with me."
They walk downstairs, they don't go out the window, and when the Madam gets in their way and tells him he cannot just come in here and do whatever he wants, Wen Ruohan snaps her neck exactly as he did to the client.
The other prostitutes watch, eyes wide. Meng Shi reaches out her hands, grasping for a single one of them.
"Sisi!"
Wen Ruohan drops the madam's corpse, still cradling Meng Yao in his other arm. "You love this woman." It isn't a question.
(Meng Yao didn't figure out the relationship between his mother and the woman he always called auntie until he was living in Qinghe and Meng Shi was dead. He felt so stupid for not seeing it earlier.)
Meng Shi gulps. "Yes."
Wen Ruohan points to Sisi. "You. Join us."
Sisi runs to them. Meng Shi clings to her, they wrap each other up in their arms and hold on.
"Is there anyone else you would like to bring, my lady?" The Wen sect leader asks. He has his other arm around both Meng Shi and Sisi, the one that isn't keeping Meng Yao up on his hip.
Meng Shi points out two others: the sweet old woman who was probably a whore when she was younger and now cleans the kitchen, and the boy of fifteen who was sold as a whore here last week, the first male whore this brothel ever employed. Meng Shi had railed violently against it, certain they were trying to set a precedent for her son to also be forced into prostitution.
Wen Ruohan guides all of them out of the brothel, and closes the door behind them. Over his shoulder he tosses a single talisman, without even looking, and the building is consumed in flames. Little Meng Yao lifts his head from Wen Ruohan's shoulder to watch it burn. The man's arm clutches a bit tighter.
"Yao'er, you're too thin," he murmurs. Meng Yao blinks, trying to wrench himself back into reality.
"Not enough food as a child," he rasps. He must have been sobbing. He notes, with some surprise, that his own arms are around Wen Ruohan now, that his face is buried in the emperor's shoulder. Hands are twisting his hair into some kind of elaborately braided style.
"You will never go hungry again," Wen Ruohan vows, hands leaving his hair. He finger-combs the braids loose, until his hair is just down in a wavy mess. "I promise you, my son." His hands rub gentle circles on Meng Yao's upper back. The touch wakes something in him, it speaks to the hungry and frightened child in his heart who isn't crying for the first time he can remember.
Safe. Strong. Warm. Father. Home.
A tension that Meng Yao has carried for years eases. He raises his head. "Thank you, a-die," he whispers, because just for a moment he wants to have this.
Wen Ruohan beams. He leans down and kisses Meng Yao's forehead. "Whatever you want, Yao'er," he hums. "Tell a-die, and I will give it to you."
Meng Yao gulps. He cannot give in. He cannot help this evil man, this murderer, this conqueror. Even though in this moment he wants nothing else but to do his bidding, earn that smile, earn his pride.
But it is between Wen Ruohan and A-Huan, and there is only one choice there. It's always A-Huan. He has a plan, and he will stick to it. He can can and will use the position he has now to help people. And now, he can do that and endear himself further to Wen Ruohan in one step.
"A-die," he says, still so little and feeling so breakable. He keeps himself there, in that vulnerable place, even though it's terrifying. Wen Ruohan looks as raw as he feels, as wounded as he is. "I want…"
Wen Ruohan kisses the crown of his head. "A-die is right here. You're safe, little one. You can tell me."
Meng Yao swallows. "There was a woman in the brothel where I grew up, who was very close to my mother. I want to find her. If she's dead I want her interred next to my mother. If she's alive…"
Wen Ruohan tucks Meng Yao's head under his chin. "If she is alive then I will bring her here, as a member of our family, and she will want for nothing."
Notes:
My mandarin is barely conversational and I haven't had an actual conversation partner in years, so if I've missed something and Wen Huoyao is a dumb name, please let me know.
Chapter 9: Mingjue-xiong has already been removed from the dungeons!
Summary:
The Unclean Realm has fallen. Other strong, immovable things fall in its wake.
Chapter Text
He keeps reminding himself that the man is not Huaisang.
He may look like Huaisang, and sound like him, but he's not. He's a fake, a soulless duplicate. Meng Yao can feel it, feel the vague connection he has with the copy. It's reassuring to press on the bond, feel it's existence and know that his plan is working.
It doesn't make it hurt any less when the fake Huaisang is dragged into the Fire Palace, and catches sight of him. "Yao-ge! Help me!"
Meng Yao turns his back. Sob , he instructs the copy. Sob like you're dying.
The copy wails and cries.
Now curse at me. Call me a faithless traitor and a son of a whore.
"You faithless traitor!" The copy is still struggling against the guards. "Worthless bastard, you son of a whore!"
There's a loud crack of skin on skin. "How dare you speak to the crown prince like that?!"
Meng Yao waves his hand and turns to look at the guards. One of them is Wen Songgen, who Meng Yao can tolerate. He isn't particularly smart, but he's devoted and oddly thoughtful for one of Wen Ruohan's inner circle members. Then again, he is the newest member. Perhaps he hasn't had the time to lose his humanity like most of the emperor's personal guardsmen have.
The other three are significantly less tolerable. Luo Xianbian is beyond cruel and reminds Meng Yao far too much of Nie Riyu, the captain Nie Mingjue saw him kill. Cai Shuili is worse, arrogant and mean in a way that puts his hackles up. Maybe because he reminds Meng Yao of himself, or the worst version of himself he's ever played. Cai Shuili, whose father came from the far north and thusly has very light coloring which he is often mocked for, is what Meng Yao fears he could turn into.
Chu Bingwen, unfortunately, makes them both look like children. Meng Yao doesn't know much about him, aside from the fact that he came to Nightless City as a young adult, found favor quickly with Wen Ruohan, and apparently poisoned his own family. He's a very small man, about the same size as Meng Yao himself, which leads him to believe he comes from a similar background of poverty. A poison master by trade, he seldom uses his sword, and Meng Yao is fairly certain it is no true spiritual weapon. Either the spirit that once inhabited it is dead, or it never had a spirit in the first place.
All in all, Chu Bingwen is a mystery, one who likes to play mind games and slip people nasty little pills or powders when they aren't expecting it. He tried to slip Meng Yao something once, he was not sure what it was, at dinner, a grand total of once. Meng Yao, fairly good with drugs and poisons himself, had tasted it, spat it out, and known instantly who had drugged his food. He'd tossed the man on the table, put a knife to his throat, and said he would vivisect him if he ever so much as thought of trying that again. This led to an uneasy truce between them, which blossomed into grudging respect on Chu Bingwen's end after Meng Yao's adoption.
"Go on," he says to the guards. "My father has ordered he go directly to his chambers for initiation."
Luo Xianbian nods, and bows. "Yes, my prince."
Alright, you are on your own. He sends the copy off, reminding himself not to wish it good luck, or anything of the sort. It's not a person. That would be silly.
A-Yao!
He jumps. He was not prepared for Xichen to write in their communication matrix.
What is it?
Mingjue-xiong has already been removed from the dungeons!
Meng Yao's heart sinks. Fuck, that was fast, the fake had only been here for half an hour. They'd gotten word it was captured and on the way to Nightless City less than two hours ago. Damnit. Someone must have sent word ahead before they even arrived in Nightless City with the copy.
Meng Yao has never forgotten Wen Ruohan's words, the day after the war ended. How he wanted to make Nie Mingjue watch his little brother be raped.
While Meng Yao and Xichen knew that telling him about the entire plan was too risky, neither of them felt they could let him go into this blind. They were only going to tell him that they had things under control, and that he needed to trust in Xichen when he said that Huaisang was safe. It wasn't perfect, but it was something.
Xichen had been allowed a visit to the dungeon for good behavior, and asked if he could go see his friend today. That had been an hour ago, once he intercepted a missive intended for Wen Ruohan with hope thay it would slow down the process. Another missive must have been sent to the emperore.
I can try again after he's returned to the dungeon, Xichen wrote. A feeling of terror and misery suffused the matrix. But he will have to suffer through the whole thing, thinking…
Meng Yao tries to soothe him. He is strong. And the copy is convincing, but it might not fool him. If anybody could see through it, it would be Nie Mingjue. Nobody knows Huaisang better than him.
Xichen feels a bit less stressed at that. I'm coming back up. Daiyu seems very relieved.
Shi Daiyu, besides being another of their allies, is the only member of Wen Ruohan's personal guard that Meng Yao actually likes. A willowy, strong, and generally dour woman who wields a spiritual spear rather than a sword, she is very intimidating despite her short height.
All Meng Yao had to say to get Shi Daiyu assigned to him and Xichen whenever possible was to mention that her surname was the same character as his mother's birth name. Wen Ruohan had gone all soft and quiet, and then told him that Shi Daiyu would be guarding him and Xichen for now, whenever they needed it. Today that entailed escorting Xichen down to the dungeon to visit Mingjue.
Xichen is crying when he finally comes back up. Daiyu has a hand on his arm, looking slightly lost.
"Should we go back to our rooms?" Meng Yao asks. "I have a few small things to take care of, but they can wait."
He shakes his head. "I… I can't just sit around. I need to think about something else. Or feel like I'm doing something."
"Well, the next thing on my to-do list is paying a visit to miss Jiang, and her brother. Would you like to come along?"
Xichen nods.
Jiang Wanyin had been initiated into the emperor's harem ten days ago, and today is the first day he's been allowed to leave Wen Ruohan's rooms. Apparently he was on excellent behavior, and could spend today with his sister. Which is why Meng Yao is visiting them, he wants very badly to check on Jiang Wanyin.
Xichen and Daiyu follow him up to the door of Jiang Yanli's cottage. Wanyin's slightly sour face answers.
He looks fine, to Meng Yao's relief. No visible marks, no torn hair, and he walks without a limp. There aren't even the same bruises around his wrists from having his hands cuffed, like Jin Zixuan frequently sports.
"You look well, Wanyin," he says as they're all beckoned inside.
He nods.
Jiang Yanli is seated at the table, which is covered in papers. Meng Yao sees several words like resentful energy and tiger seal and limiting damage to the body, and he's so taken aback by all this that he only notices Wen Qing and Wen Qionglin when the latter clears his throat.
"My prince," he says softly, standing up to bow.
Meng Yao waves a hand. "Sit down, Qionglin. None of that."
Wen Qing tugs her brother back down. "You look stricken, your majesty," she says. "Is everything alright?"
Meng Yao quickly explains how the fake Huaisang is here, and how they weren't fast enough to warn Nie Mingjue.
Jiang Wanyin pushes his little pad of paper at Meng Yao. He really isn't here, you swear?
"I swear," Meng Yao says. "You and he were friends, weren't you? Back in Cloud Recess? You may well be able to tell the difference. The copy is a bit… simpler, than the real thing. For his five traits I chose artisticly talented, cowardly, devoted to his da-ge, creative, and weak."
Jiang Wanyin smiles a bit. That seems like an accurate assessment.
Xichen looks him up and down. "You look well. He… he hasn't been too rough on you?" His ears turn purple. "Er. Perhaps it is not something I should ask in a lady's presence."
Jiang Yanli scoffs. "A-Cheng has already recounted everything that happened between him and the emperor to me. Do you think I would be able to rest without knowing if my little brother is being horrifically mistreated?"
Wanyin scribbles on his paper. He was so gentle with me. Nothing hurt. He called me good and gave me a massage and then fucked me so horribly gently and it felt amazing. I almost wish he'd hurt me. I would feel less disgusting.
Meng Yao holds in a sad sigh. He had thought this might happen. "He's trying to make you like him. It's a manipulation."
Jiang Wanyin's cheeks turn red. I know.
Meng Yao clasps him on the shoulder. "Look at me. There's no shame if you found pleasure in it. You need to protect yourself and save your energy. If he's going to be gentle with you, there's no reason not to go along with it. So long as you remember in your mind and heart that it's a manipulation."
I understand, Wanyin writes. Thank you, your majesty.
"How is he to young Master Jin?" Xichen asks.
Worse. He's rough with him, and he seems to enjoy it when Jin Zixuan is afraid of him. I think he gets off on it.
Wen Qing shivers. "Yes, that sounds in character for my uncle." She brushes off her arms, as if she can get rid of the thought, and straightens her back. "I am going to be allowed to check the health of the emperor's harem every month. I hope that this will give us a chance to create a copy of young master Jin, and get the real version out of Qishan."
Meng Yao shakes his head. "It takes four hours to create the double and complete the array. I doubt you will be allowed to have him for that long."
She pressed her lips together. "Shit. Well, alright, there goes that plan."
Xichen's eyes brighten. "That is something I can work on. Shortening and streamlining the process of making the duplicates."
"Not a bad idea. It's a good array to have on hand for if we get the chance to isolate someone long enough to sneak them out." Miss Jiang taps her chin. "Chifeng-zun is well guarded, isn't he?"
Meng Yao shakes his head. "His cell is not. He is mostly in isolation, from what I can tell. It would not be hard to make a duplicate of him, but nearly impossible to smuggle the real one out."
Wen Qing frowns. "The time will come. And when it does, we will be ready."
Chapter 10: He'd rather an apology, though
Summary:
The day after the fake Huaisang arrives, Meng Yao and Lan Xichen make another effort to inform Nie Mingjue. Plans are also made for the upcoming victory banquet.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next day, Xichen manages to speak face-to-face with Chifeng-zun.
Or to try, at least.
A-Yao, he isn't responding! Xichen writes. Panic suffuses the words. He has his fingers in his ears, he's just staring into space! He's... catatonic!
Meng Yao, who had been in the middle of finishing the account of the Ouyang treasure, pinches his nose and breathes deep. Have you tried just pulling them out? His cultivation is sealed and yours is not.
Nothing is written in response. There's not even the trickle-tingle of magic that tells him Xichen is about to write something.
Did someone overhear? Daiyu is escorting him again and she is very good at getting privacy when she wants, most of the guards are scared of her. But sometimes there are stubborn clingers even she can't get to go away.
Xichen?
He jumps up from the low desk, abandoning the accounts. He forces himself not to run. He doesn't need to run, running will only draw attention to him. He doesn't need attention right now, he needs space to work.
If someone overheard, he can still protect Xichen. His position here is still secure, and it would not be unusual for him to be overheard trying to comfort an old friend. Meng Yao can protect him. He will protect him. It's all he exists to do right now, to protect Lan Xichen and his interests.
He jumps higher than he thought he could in the air when words appear in the matrix.
A-Yao?
You scared the absolute life out of me! What happened? Did you get him to listen?
A pause. Then:
He hit me.
Meng Yao freezes in his tracks. He hit you?
Another long pause.
He is unwell, I think. He did not recognize me, he must have thought he was in danger and lashed out. Daiyu drug me out. She said he was too dangerous for me to be in there with him. He seems to be in a rage right now, it's almost like he's qi deviating. But he isn't, his cultivation is still sealed. I don't know what's going on.
Meng Yao frowns, and accesses one of his other communication arrays.
Daiyu? Is Xichen alright?
Her response is almost instant. I believe Chifeng-zun broke his nose and possibly a few fingers, my prince. I am currently escorting him to the healers.
That seems much more in character for a man like Nie Mingjue. He isn't the kind to just hit someone once and leave it at that.
He sighs and switches back to the array he shares with Xichen. Let Daiyu take you to the healers, A-Huan, and look at your nose.
I'm sorry, A-Yao. I just didn't want to worry you. I'm fine, really.
Meng Yao stops to brace his head against the wall and take deep breaths.
So Chifeng-zun is too furious and too traumatized to hear them out right now. It was only yesterday that he had to watch... whatever awful thing happened to the fake Huaisang at Wen Ruohan's hands. At least this means the fake is convincing enough to fool even his brother. A small mercy.
Maybe now that Wen Ruohan's had his fun with the Nie brothers, he'll leave Chifeng-zun in the dungeon. Maybe he can get a bit of time alone and unmolested.
He meets them in Wen Qing's clinic, and skewers Xichen with his eyes.
The first jade sighs. "He broke my nose and my pinky finger. Nothing serious. It wasn't his fault." He holds up both hands. "See? All better now. Healer Wen is very good at what she does."
"You have an impressive golden core, Zewu-jun. Much of the healing was done by you, I was merely a guide." Wen Qing was tidying up. "Good afternoon, my prince."
"Good afternoon." He sits down on one of the many low chairs. "Tell me what happened with Chifeng-zun."
"He didn't know me," Xichen says. "Whatever Wen Ruohan did... whatever it was, It must have been awful." He fidgets. "He didn't move or twitch or react at all, and he had his fingers in his ears so he couldn't even hear me, and then I grabbed his wrists to try and make him listen and... he went completely berserk." He flexes his fingers, his eyes cast down. "He didn't say anything, he just screamed and shouted and twisted my fingers, and then smashed my face into the wall."
"You heal quickly," Wen Qing says again. "A-Ning is going to check on Chifeng-zun right now, he's better with the mental health aspect of things. He will be able to help him." She finishes wiping the surface of her exam table and tosses the cloth into a basket to be washed. "A-Ning is very good at helping people process trauma."
"We should tell him that his brother is a fake," Xichen frets. "Now that Wen Ruohan's had his fun, he'll leave him alone, right? That should fix the problem, shouldn't it? Knowing his brother is actually safe?"
Wen Qing frowns thoughtfully. "It will help, certainly. But it will not erase the trauma of seeing a being with his brother's face raped before his eyes." She sighs. "It may be a while before he is even cognizant enough to understand. Once A-Ning comes back, I'll get a clearer picture of how bad the situation is."
"Do you think my father will allow you to treat him?" Meng Yao asks.
She nods. "He has already asked me to, actually. He doesn't like broken toys."
Both Meng Yao and Xichen shudder.
"So," Wen Qing says to break the silence, "has a date for the victory banquet been set?"
"Ten days," Meng Yao says. "I had dinner with my father last night, and apparently he is pulling out all the stops. It's going to be the most lavish banquet Qishan has ever seen."
Daiyu sighs. "I hate banquets. I always end up being the announcer, and then my throat hurts for days after all that shouting."
"I have teas for that," Wen Qing offers. "And lozenges that coat the throat and prevent damage to the vocal chords."
Meng Yao frowns. "Speaking of vocal chords, have you examined Jiang Wanyin?"
"Not yet. I have only heard about what was done to him."
They are cut off by Wen Qionglin coming into the room. He bows to Meng Yao. "G-greetings, my prince."
Meng Yao shakes his head. "Don't you bow to me, Qionglin, I can handle it from everyone but you."
His cheeks flush. "But you are o-one of the only p-p-p-people here with power that I want to show re-r-respect."
Heat rises to his face, and the world sways a little bit, one side and then the other. "That's very kind of you," he mutters. "But you don't have to."
Wen Qing stood up. "Well, I need A-Ning to brief me on Chifeng-zun's condition. If you would allow me to get back to my work..."
Xichen hesitates. "Would... I suppose it would be a breach of patient confidentiality for me to stay," he murmurs.
Both healers nod. "I'm sorry, Z-z-zewu-jun," Wen Ning says.
~*~
The next day, Meng Yao is called to his father's rooms. Jiang Wanyin opens the door for him this time, and flushes darkly. He's wearing no shirt, and a long black skirt with slits that go up to his thighs. He looks... surprisingly sensual. His hair is undone, and there is a single dark bruise on the left side of his neck. Other than that, he looks fine.
"It's good to see you, Wanyin," he says. He makes sure his father overhears that, sweeping past him and into the room.
"Yao'er," Ruohan says, smiling and sweeping his hand at the seat across the table from him. Jin Zixuan has his head in the emperor's lap, but at a tap he pulls away with a soft pop. "Go with A-Cheng into the bedroom, my peony. I'm sure A-Sang could use some company."
Meng Yao sits down as Ruohan closes his robes. "If you ever change your mind about wanting concubines, you must let me know. Working through tedious paperwork is so much easier with a warm mouth to keep you comfortable."
He shakes his head. "No, father." He squirms a bit. "There is no one I want touching me but Xichen."
Ruohan's eyes soften. "Considering all you have been through, that is reasonable. Is he good to you? Pleasing in bed?"
They haven't had sex yet. They sleep in the same bed, and snuggle every night. One or both of them wakes up hard each morning, but there hasn't been time.
"I..." he swallows. "You may think less of me for this, a-die--"
"You want to wait until the wedding night," Ruohan finishes. "I suspected you might. There is no shame in that. I saved my virginity for my wife." His eyes grow sad, and a bit far away. "However long or short you prefer to wait, there is no shame. As your betrothed is also untouched, I would be happy to have him informed in methods of lovemaking, to make your wedding night better."
Meng Yao shakes his head again. "I... I would prefer to do my own research. For both of us to."
"Alright." He spreads his hands out on the table. "Then I will return to my original topic of discussion, and why I called you here on such short notice." All the fingers tap on the wood. "I want to punish Nie Mingjue."
Punish Nie Mingjue? Probably for killing Wen Xu, but why would Wen Ruohan want to talk with Meng Yao about that?
He frowns. "How so? And what for?"
Ruohan huffs. He sounds suddenly exasperated. "For being such a terrible host to you, Yao'er! For throwing you out of Qinghe with a gaping wound in your chest! For allowing the men who raped you to get away with no punishments!"
Meng Yao swallows. "I..."
It isn't that he doesn't want Nie Mingjue to suffer. Or that he is not upset and hurt still about... well, about everything. He does, he is. His heart hurts just thinking about the man, and not only because of the stab wound.
He'd rather an apology, though.
"Let me tell you what I would like to do, and you can give me your thoughts," his father says. He leans forward. "You recall what I did to Chen Liumin, yes?" Those dark eyes glimmer, a hint of leftover madness that Meng Yao thought was entirely gone. "You were not there when I had him punished for assaulting you, but I know you know what happened."
Meng Yao is fairly certain that Wen Ruohan had the captured Nie soldier who participated in gang raping him given the same treatment by eight of his guardsmen.
He swallows. "Did you cut his throat after, like I asked?"
"Yes. It was what you asked for, Yao'er. I'll give you whatever you ask for." His father smiles. "Now, about Nie Mingjue. You say he never laid hands on you?"
Meng Yao shakes his head. "Never. Not once."
Looking satisfied, Wen Ruohan nods. "In that case, I will not have him executed. My current plan is to attempt a public demonstration of the furnace experiment."
Meng Yao must have heard him wrong. All those years of having people screaming at him must be finally taking their toll on his hearing. Or he's going soft in the head. Surely Wen Ruohan doesn't intend to use Nie Mingjue as a human furnace? As far as he knows, that's only ever been successfully done once, and the practitioners didn't leave particularly thorough notes, nor did they explain what happened to the furnace after, or if it was even beneficial to the participants...
"A-die... I'm afraid I don't follow."
Wen Ruohan's eyebrows draw together. "Ah. You've been busier than usual, my son. Normally you go through all the new and incoming manuscripts on torture, so I had assumed you already read this..." he stands up, rifles around in one of the many large boxes that sit in the far corner of the room, and pulls out a bound sheaf of paper. He tosses it down on the table in front of Meng Yao. "Here. This was part of the offering from the Jin."
The obviously amateur-made book is titled Use of Human Cauldrons and Furnaces as Punishment with Effective Positive Impacts on Participants Golden Cores.
"Apparently the Jin use it as a fairly common punishment for high-level crimes," Wen Ruohan says casually. "They've only now deigned to share their knowledge with the world."
Meng Yao opens the book. Despite being bound as if the maker did not fully understand the concept of string, inside it is cleanly organized and professional. It even has a table of contents!
Preface, Summary, Difference between Cauldron and Furnace, Overall benefits to participants, Useage of yang-aligned furnaces, Usage of yin-aligned furnaces, Yin-aligned cultivators as participants, Creating a cauldron step-by-step, Effective restraint for the cauldron or furnace, Methods of prolonging your cauldron's usefulness, Care and usage of the cauldron or furnace after core depletion, Reverse Cauldron: not a myth after all ...
Everything tastes a bit like acid. Meng Yao swallows the nausea. He flips to Difference between Cauldron and Furnace, and speed-reads the first page of the chapter and the last, which is where he has found the most useful information usually is.
A furnace is generally a one-use tool and is depleted after the first use. Some particularly powerful furnaces, if well cared for, may last for up to three uses before reaching full core depletion. Though not as useful in the long-term, furnaces are easier to create and give immediate results...
...a true human cauldron is very difficult to accomplish, and most accounts that claim to have created one are in reality just particularly strong furnaces that lasted for more than one use. True human cauldrons can survive without core depletion for several decades while being used three times weekly, as long as they are well cared for.
Meng Yao almost falls over backward. He wants to use Nie Mingjue as a furnace. Wen Ruohan wants to have Nie Mingjue's golden core fucked out of him.
"Something interesting that I found out while reading that book and conversing with my peony," Wen Ruohan says, dragging Meng Yao's eyes up off the page. "Did you know that Madame Jin, Jin Guangshan's wife, is a cauldron?"
Meng Yao blinks. The world spins around him, too much new information and not enough time to categorize it neatly.
"I thought you might like to know. That vile man couldn't even treat his own wife properly." He scoffs.
Alright. He can walk himself through this. He can. He can get each piece of information put away neatly and then he will be able to move again.
- Human furnaces and cauldrons are apparently much more possible and common than he initially thought. That can go with all his other torture knowledge.
- They have a manuscript on how to do it. That can go in the same place.
- That manuscript came from the Jin, where being turned into a cauldron or furnace is a common punishment. He can add this information to the growing list titled reasons why the Jin are evil and I should never try to become one.
- Jin Zixuan's mother had probably been no better off than Meng Yao's mother. This will go in the box at the back of his mind labeled simply sibling thoughts.
- Wen Ruohan wants to use Nie Mingjue as a furnace.
That last point keeps tripping him up when he tries to find a place to put it.
Wen Ruohan wants to use Nie Mingjue as a furnace. Furnaces have their golden cores fucked to pieces through endless dual cultivation with dozens or hundreds of cultivators until they have nothing more left to give and their power winks out of existence. And Wen Ruohan wants to do that to Nie Mingjue. In Meng Yao's name.
He can't let that happen. It will break Xichen's heart, and furthermore, he doesn't want it. The mere thought makes his gut churn as if he's swallowed an angry fish alive. It won't give him his home in Qinghe back, it won't heal the scars that litter him from the assault, it won't make Nie Mingjue hate him less. He doesn't want anyone raped on his behalf. He doesn't want anyone raped in retribution. He didn't even want his rapist raped in retribution, much less Nie Mingjue, who never touched him even when Meng Yao wanted him to.
And to lose his cultivation would kill Nie Mingjue. He would die. He would withdraw and wither into himself.
Meng Yao is stuck now because he has no place to put this information. He's stuck like he hasn't been in more than a decade, because he could maybe slice this information up into just information about Wen Ruohan, and just information about Nie Mingjue, except that there's a whole host of feelings clumped around this simple statement and he can't unwind it because it hurts and he's stuck staring into space and something wet is dripping onto his hands in his lap.
"Oh, Yao'er," Wen Ruohan sighs, and sweeps around the table to wrap him up in a hug. His body is warm, like always, and the embrace is gentle. Being held by Wen Ruohan when he isn't feverish is a million times more comfortable than when he is feverish, hands soft on his back, always conscious of the places where Meng Yao is broken. "You poor thing. Alright, if the thought is so abhorrent to you, I won't." He tucks Meng Yao's head under his chin, stroking his hair.
Warm. Safe. Home. Father.
Meng Yao sobs for what he cannot have. He sobs for his eternal lack of a father, he sobs for whatever Nie Mingjue's fate will be, he sobs for his own innocence, which was ripped from him long before he came to Qinghe. The angry twisting in his stomach returns ten-fold.
"Shhh, shhh," Wen Ruohan hums. He nuzzles Meng Yao's hair. "The choice is yours, Yao'er, if you don't want that, it will not happen."
"Please don't," he whimpers, and he hates himself for the way his voice catches. "Please no more. Not on my behalf. Please, please..."
Wen Ruohan gathers him against his chest and rocks him like an infant. "Shhh," he hums, voice a deep thrum in his chest. "Hush, darling, it's alright. A-die has you."
"I don't want him hurt," he whispers between sobs. "I don't... please don't hurt him, not Chifeng-zun, please..."
His father hushes him. "Alright, okay. It's okay, Yao'er. I won't do it."
With this new information, a clarification on the earlier statement that froze him, Meng Yao's body starts to thaw. Wen Ruohan wants to use Nie Mingjue as a human furnace, but he won't, because Meng Yao asked him not to. At least, he says he won't. Can he trust him to keep to his word? Can he?
He doesn't know. He should be able to take this and compare it to similar circumstances in the past, but he can't because there are no similar circumstances in the past. This is new territory, untrod ground. Uncertain and unfamiliar.
He tosses all this information into one of the baskets labelled for later and keeps crying.
Wen Ruohan sighs, the fluttery sound running all through Meng Yao. "You were wasted on that man. Was he the first person you ever loved?"
"Yes," he sobs, the words flying out of him, rejected by his body after so long being kept inside. To have it put to words, audible words, tangible words, is horrible. It makes it real at last. It forces him to feel every centimeter of his broken heart. "I loved him so much, a-die, I would have done anything for him..." he's crying all over Wen Ruohan's fancy robes.
"And he threw you out like an unwanted dog," he finishes for him in a low growl. "You put himself in front of a sword that would have stabbed him in the chest and he threw you away and acted like it was a kindness."
"I wanted to live," he whimpers. He values his own life, and since his mother's death, he was the only one who ever did. "Not killing me was a kindness, I wanted to live, I want to live..."
"You could have died on Wen Zhuliu's sword," Wen Ruohan reminds him. "You could have died of infection of the wound after, because he sent you away without treatment." Those dark, dark, dark eyes glitter and latch onto his. He feels like he's touching a bolt of spun wool with too-dry hands, the rough fibers catching on his skin. But it's happening to every inch of his body, to his eyes and his brain and the inside of his guts. "He didn't spare your life. He just didn't want to feel like he had personally killed you."
Things break. Inside Meng Yao something tears and snaps and he can't hold himself together, he's falling, away, he's screaming, he's dying of sheer misery
Notes:
I'm sorry for the cliffhanger, my darlings >.<
If anyone is curious and in the mood for something unrepentently dark and awful, you can read about what happened with the fake NHS here. I would like to make it clear that you do not have to read it by any stretch to understand the overall story. It will add to the narrative, but you will not miss anything crucial. Stay safe my friends.
Chapter 11: If you did hate him no one could fault you for that
Summary:
Post-panic attack Meng Yao wakes up in Xichen's arms. They discuss Meng Yao's life in Qinghe, and his relationship with Nie Mingjue.
Notes:
Warning: discussion of past rape and sexual assault, and a panic attack
Chapter Text
Meng Yao wakes up in warm arms, surrounded by the smell of mint. He coughs, and stretches. His head feels fuzzy and sore.
"A-Yao!" He's rolled over and then Lan Xichen is cradling his face. "You're alright, you're fine. You're back in our rooms, it's just you and me."
"Zewu--" he stops himself. A-Huan?
The written response in the matrix lines up perfectly with Xichen's concerned expression. A-Yao? Do you think someone is listening in?
"No," he says out loud. "I just wanted to make sure it was really you."
Xichen kisses his forehead. "Your father brought you here unconscious. He said you were having a panic attack."
"I was."
Yes. He'd been having a panic attack over Nie fucking Mingjue being turned into a human furnace, hadn't he? That's what happened. And then his father apparently knocked him out and carried him back to his rooms, back to Xichen's arms.
"You don't have to tell me," Xichen offers gently. "If it isn't... if talking about it won't help."
Meng Yao shakes his head, burrowing his face into Xichen's unfairly sculpted chest. "It's... I think I managed to convince my father not to do it. I'll. I suppose I'll need to talk him again to make sure." He's started shaking again. He's going to have another panic attack. He doesn't want to have another panic attack. Not over this. He's in an extremely tenuous situation where he's committing treason against the most powerful man in the world with every breath and this is what he's panicking about!? Nie fucking Mingjue!?
"Slow your breathing down." Xichen's voice is a soft rumble from his chest. "In for four counts, one, two, three, four, then out the same, one, two, three, four." Big hands run their palms down his back, fingertips pressing into him.
He can do this. He's safe. He is in his own heavily warded rooms, alone with Zewu-jun. He can breathe in time with Xichen's syncopated musician's counting. In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four, in, two, three, four...
"Yes, good. Like that, A-Yao, you're alright."
Meng Yao raises his head. "Why can't I hate him, A-Huan?"
One perfect eyebrow arches. "Wen Ruohan has been very kind to--"
"No, not him." Hating or not hating Wen Ruohan is a different issue altogether, one that Meng Yao is unsure if he'll ever be able to address. "Chifeng-zun."
Now both eyebrows go up. "You feel you should hate him?" The words aren't an accusation, just gently curious.
Meng Yao draws in a long, deep breath. The kind that makes the scar in his chest from where Wen Zhuliu stabbed him pull and hurt.
"Did he ever tell you why I was banished from Qinghe?"
Xichen smooths Meng Yao's hair down. "He... said a lot of things, most of which made no sense." Perfect lips curve into a frown.
"What kind of things?"
"That you were a Wen traitor and plant from the start. That you mercilessly killed your commanding officer in cold blood and released Xue Yang from the Unclean Realm."
The laugh bubbles out, impossible to stop. "How generous of him! I expected him to be telling actual lies."
Xichen's frown deepens. "A-Yao. Explain."
He bites down on his tongue to stop the laughing and tastes blood. He should start at the beginning, right? That's usually the best place to start.
"I never worked as a whore. When I was a child in the brothel my mother did everything she could to protect me, but she wasn't there all the time, and sometimes there was nothing she could do but avenge me after the fact. Those who had me back then never had to pay for the priviledge. Apparently there is just something about me that screams 'free whore', and it followed me all the way to Qinghe, and my commanding officer and several of his friends decided to partake. They fucked me bloody after ripping my favorite set of robes to shreds, they hit me and cut me with their swords and when they were all finished they dumped me in the hallway outside my rooms and said no one would ever believe me."
Hands tighten in his hair, tugging him closer to Xichen's chest. He ought to be pushing Meng Yao away, after being made aware of the depth of his filth, but he isn't. The embrace makes talking easier. He's speaking fast, something in him has come unstoppered and he wonders if he'll ever be able to be quiet again.
"The next day the Wen breached the Unclean Realm, the next day I was stationed as Xue Yang's guard, and three of my rapists from the previous day came by and said they'd be visiting later to do the same thing to Xue Yang!" He's crying. He's hysterical, he's out of control. "He was sixteen years old, Zewu-jun, did you know!? He was a child and they were going to trap him in his cell and rape him and I could not stop it and if I tried they'd just throw me down next to him, I knew they would, and then the Wen attacked and everything was chaos. So I-- let him out and told him to run far away and never ever come back. And I had a sword I picked up. It was a Wen sword and then Nie Riyu was in my face calling me a traitor and a whore and I--" he breaks off because he can't breathe, or he's breathing too much. "I. I." He gasps for air. "I. I. Was scared. So I-- killed him. I stabbed him and he looked so shocked and so scared, just like I was scared and it felt good to make him feel like I felt even if it was just for a moment, I felt helpless and worthless and I wanted to die and I saw that on his face and I think I smiled, and then Chifeng-zun came around the corner--"
Xichen is crying. Tears fall into Meng Yao's hair, hands clutch at him tightly.
"Z-zewu-jun?"
"A-Yao," he sniffles, nose rubbing against his scalp. "A-Yao, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. Mingjue-xiong didn't understand, did he? You said he wouldn't hear you out, he just exiled you..." Xichen makes a little snarling sound. "Sometimes I just want to shake him, that insensitive fool."
The vicious words make something in Meng Yao click. "He almost executed me," he spits. His anger is valid, Zewu-jun seems to agree. "He didn't because I jumped in front of Wen Zhuliu's sword and took a blow that probably could have killed him." He pulls his robes open, revealing the scar that is throbbing like a new wound. "He put Baxia to my neck and changed his mind at the last minute. He told me to get out. I was still bleeding from this." He digs his nails into the scar. "I had a little money, but not enough to pay a healer. I treated it myself. I probably should have died."
Xichen breathes, a long, slow, trembling breath. His hands go still, so still, on Meng Yao's back.
"That's horrific," he says after a moment, voice artificially composed. "He did not decide not to execute you, he only changed the method."
Ah. That's almost exactly the same thing Wen Ruohan said. If two extremely different men both agree on this, then maybe Meng Yao isn't wrong to be so deeply hurt.
Xichen's hands close into fists on his back. "He failed you as your sect leader. He failed you as your friend. If you did hate him no one could fault you for that."
Feelings of vindication wash over him. If Zewu-jun himself agrees that Nie Mingjue was out of line, then Meng Yao can finally admit that he's been wronged. "He was neither of those things to me."
This time Xichen pulls away, but he doesn't go far. He holds firmly to Meng Yao's upper arms and looks into his eyes. His own are still dripping tears, wide with shock. "What?"
He swallows, his throat is dry. "I told you I wasn't a sect member when I left Cloud Recess. That was why I couldn't stay."
He's crushed into another hug, tucking Meng Yao's head under his chin while Xichen sobs into his hair.
No one has cried so hard on his behalf since his mother, when Meng Yao was seven and she found him with two black eyes and the spend of an unfamiliar man smeared on his cheeks.
"A-Yao," he whispers through his tears. "A-Yao."
"So you agree that I have my reasons to hate him," he says. Zewu-jun's tears make it easier for his own to stop. "So why can't I?! Why did I beg my father not to have him gang raped the same way I was? Why does the thought make my chest hurt and make me cry when I have every reason to want revenge!?" His nails are digging into Xichen's shoulders. "Can you tell me why? It doesn't make sense, I should want him hurt, I should want him punished..."
"You're a good man, A-Yao," Xichen says, grasping tight to his arms. "That is why, don't you know that? Because you're good, and you want to help people, protect people..."
Then he's laughing again. How can he possibly think that? "I caught Wen Ruohan's attention by torturing people, Zewu-jun! I'm not good, obvio--"
He's cut off by Xichen's mouth crashing into his, a viciously sweet kiss with teeth digging into his lip and hands cradling his skull. "A-Yao is good," he says with such intense fire and fervor it shakes Meng Yao's bones. "You did not torture anyone without reason, you did everything you could at great risk to yourself to help us win this war, you helped whenever you were able, you're good, A-Yao." He kisses him again, pulling him close, kisses his hair and forehead and nose and temples and mouth. "You're good," kiss, "brave," kiss, "valiant," two kisses, "brilliant," he raises Meng Yao's left hand and kisses his knuckles, knuckles attached to fingers that have taken lives. "You are good and I will hear no other opinions," Xichen finished firmly.
The room is spinning. "Zewu-jun..."
Xichen's hands guide him down to lay with his head on the other man's shoulder. "A-Huan," he corrects. "Your A-Huan, my A-Yao." Meng Yao's hair is played with. "You are so good A-Yao, so pure."
Helplessly, he snorts. "I am not pure. Do you know how many men have fucked me?"
Xichen's face darkens. "I'll kill them all."
Something in Meng Yao's chest jumps and rolls over. Lan Xichen wants to kill people who have hurt him. This makes him giddy and nauseous, he shouldn't be so pleased by tainting Zewu-jun, by bringing him to violent thoughts.
"Most of them are already dead," is what he finally says. "My mother poisoned the first man who ever molested me, and the first man who ever tried and failed to rape me, and the first man who ever succeeded. I killed Nie Riyu and Wen Ruohan killed Chen Liumin. That leaves six men from Qinghe, all of whom could be dead anyway."
Xichen sets his jaw. "In Gusu, rapists are punished by death. After we are married, I'll see it done. If you will allow me."
Heart beating too fast, hands gripping too tight, Meng Yao nods. "I will allow you. I'll always allow you, A-Huan."
Chapter 12: Lan Huan is surprisingly skilled at styling hair
Summary:
Xichen and Meng Yao have slow, lazy morning sex the day of the victory banquet, and then get dressed up for the big event. Clothes do make the character, after all.
Notes:
If you'd like to skip the sex (it's totally skippable) ctrl+f your way down to Xichen is helping Meng Yao with his hair and proceed from there.
Chapter Text
It is the day of the victory banquet.
Meng Yao wakes up curled against Xichen's chest. A quick glance at the water clock tells him that it's half past eight o'clock, and with that realization he rolls over to look into Xichen's eyes.
"Good morning," he murmurs, stretching.
His betrothed gives him a gentle kiss. "Good morning, A-Yao." His big, gentle hands trace down his back.
Meng Yao's entire body twitches. He woke up hard, which isn't unusual. What is unusual is the hesitant touch to his chest, palm scraping down his stomach over his sleeping robes.
"Can I, A-Yao?" He asks softly. "Can I take care of this?"
Meng Yao almost screams when Xichen's hand closes around him, his palm so big he can enfold his cock and balls easily.
"If you want to," he gasps.
Xichen rolls him out onto his back. Crouched over him in the warm morning light, unbound hair spilling everywhere, he looks like a god.
Meng Yao reaches up and tugs him down into a kiss. "A-Huan," he murmurs. "You really want this?"
"I do," he responds, barely stopping kissing Meng Yao long enough to talk. "I want this. I want you."
Slowly Meng Yao spreads his legs. His sleeping robe feels unbearable on his skin all of a sudden.
"Need this off," he mutters, jerking at the ties. "Please, gege?"
Xichen shudders. "Yes, A-Yao." He frees himself from his sleeping robe first, the blankets falling down his back as he sits up.
Meng Yao's mouth goes dry. "Fuck," he murmurs emphatically, squirming in place when the dryness is abruptly replaced by a rush of saliva. "A-Huan…"
Xichen's cock is magnificent. Long, thick, flushed a charming pink. Meng Yao has seen a great deal of penises in his life, and never before has he wanted to suck one until now. Never before now has he wanted to spend hours between another man's thighs, kissing and licking every inch, rubbing it against his face, finding all the places that make it jerk and twitch.
"A-Yao…" Xichen's hands on his sleeping robe pull his mind back to the bedroom.
"You are so beautiful," he whispers, awed. "Fuck, Lan Huan."
Flushing, he continues tugging on Meng Yao's robe. "Please, love? May I see you as well?"
Meng Yao squirms. "I am not like you," he murmurs. "You will be disappointed."
Xichen keeps him from saying anything more with a devouring kiss. It makes his head spin, lack of oxygen combined with the hot wet slickness of Xichen's tongue.
"A-Yao will not disappoint me," he says certainly. A thin strand of saliva connects their lips. "Please?" The begging glimmer in his eyes goes directly to Meng Yao's cock, and he suddenly can't remember what he was so worried about.
He sits up and slides the robe down his shoulders. Xichen's eyes are bright and hungry, clinging to every inch of bared skin.
"A-Yao is perfect," he husks.
Meng Yao tosses the robe on the floor, abruptly bored with his striptease. Much harder to give one when sitting down, he muses.
"A-Huan-- oh, FUCK!"
Xichen swoops down like a bird of prey and swallows Meng Yao's cock right down to the base. He's not very long, Meng Yao had been told a few times back in Qinghe that he had a 'very suckable-looking cock', but the men who said that usually meant it as an insult. And nobody has ever sucked him before, his sexual partners didn't even care to have his consent, much less to give him pleasure.
Lan Huan is different. He holds Meng Yao's hips in gentle, big hands and encourages him to roll up, to grind into the warm wet heat of the very top of his throat.
"A-Huan," he gasps, helplessly grabbing at Xichen's hair. "Fuck, I'm--"
He comes so hard he sees stars, clustering around Xichen's face. His shining eyes look up at Meng Yao through his lashes, and he doesn't let himself be tugged away. His warm tongue keeps gently lapping at the underside of his cock, and he swallows with a smile.
"Was that good?" Xichen asks earnestly after a few moments of panting breaths.
It takes a moment for him to gather enough conscious thought to form a reply. When he does, Meng Yao strokes his hair, drawing him up for a kiss. "It was fantastic," he murmurs. "Roll over, let me do the same."
Xichen blushes bright pink. "Ah. About that." He shifts awkwardly a bit.
Meng Yao isn't sure if he feels like laughing or crying. "You… you got off just like that?"
He turns an even darker shade of red-purple. "I may have… rubbed against the mattress a bit," he admits. "You were just making such gorgeous noises, A-Yao, and I wanted you so badly…"
Meng Yao chuckles, and pulls him up for another kiss. "Lan Huan," he huffs through his laughter, "you are a treasure." He flips him over onto his back, so that Meng Yao can spread out over his broad chest. "Do you feel like you could go again?"
The jump of Xichen's hips under his hands makes his confirmation redundant.
They drag themselves out of bed, and out of one another's arms, almost two hours later. Meng Yao feels light and full of magic, full of joy. He's never felt like this after sex before, never, he always walked away from it feeling grimy and empty and filthy and often merely grateful to be walking at all.
Maybe he's just never actually had sex before now. They hadn't even gone any further than hands and mouths, Meng Yao suckling the tip of that glorious cock and playing his fingers over it until Xichen came with a long groan.
He feels alive. He feels more ready to face today than he's ever felt for anything, ever.
Xichen is helping Meng Yao with his hair. The styles favored in Qishan are a few complex, layered braids that decorate a topknot, with most of the hair left unbound. He's been struggling to do it himself, and eventually Xichen offers to help.
"You will get to see your brother and uncle," Meng Yao points out as he passes Xichen another hairpin.
"Do you think I will get a chance to talk to them?" Xichen asks, opening the pin between his teeth. "And if I do, should I bring them up to speed on the plan?"
Meng Yao hums and looks over their reflections in the mirror. "You know them both better than I, but I think we should bring them in. If we don't, all they will know is that you surrendered for all of Gusu, and then stepped down as sect leader to marry into the new royal family."
Xichen sighs at the reminder. He's already done these things, yesterday he signed the papers indicating the surrender of the Gusulan, and then his intentions to abdicate the position of sect leader. It was his own idea, he can't lead his people from Qishan, and he can't help Meng Yao from Gusu.
"Even if I don't get the chance to talk to either of them in private, I don't think it would be wrong of me to inform them that I am doing this to ensure the survival of the sect." He ties off another braid with a small ribbon. "I think that's plainly obvious to everyone. Uncle and Wangji will understand."
There's a loud knock, followed instantly by four servants sweeping in with Wen Ruohan on their heels.
"Ah, you've gotten started without us, Yao'er," he chuckles. "Lan Huan is surprisingly skilled at styling hair."
Xichen puts another pin in Meng Yao's hair, another braid securely in place. "Thank you, your excellency."
The emperor gestures to the servants, who start laying out a very complicated looking series of robes and sashes.
Meng Yao eyes the silk and damask warily. "I thought I would just wear my usual robes." He sweeps a hand over the soft, red silk and white over robe. "These seem sufficient to me."
Wen-- his father sets a golden guan the size of his fist on the table in front of him. It's shaped like a sun. "Sufficient?" He snorts. "Those are casual robes, my son. Today I am introducing you to the world. You must look as flawless outside as you are inside. I will accept nothing less. For you and for your betrothed."
One of the servants waves Xichen away. "Let me have a look," she says. Her fingers are gentle in his hair. She humphs and hums, moves a few braids around, then unwinds one and leaves the others in place. Meeting his eyes in the mirror, she cocks her head. "Lift your chin for me, my prince."
Meng Yao does.
She nods. "A bit modern, but you are young, it suits well enough." She picks up the large golden guan that Wen Ruohan brought with him, and slips it over his topknot, pinning it in place. It's the heaviest headpiece he's ever worn.
"You look radiant," Wen Ruohan hums.
"You're very kind, but I prefer to do my own hair," Xichen says from somewhere behind him. Meng Yao turns around to see him neatly fending off three servants, all reaching for his lustrous hair.
Wen Ruohan nods. "I will permit it. The Lan have their customs, and will be allowed to keep them. The forehead ribbon is sacred, I thought that was common knowledge?"
"Not often to those who have not studied in Gusu," Xichen answers, with obvious relief, as his assailants stand down. "Shall I try to replicate A-Yao's hairstyle?"
The emperor shrugs. "If you like. You may do your hair how you please, so long as you look presentable." He gestures to half of the mess of robes and sashes. "Are the blue ones to your liking, Lan Huan?"
Xichen looks over them. They're as much red as they are blue, the cerulean flames licking the edges make it exceptionally clear that these are Wen robes as much as Lan.
"They're very impressive," Xichen says after a moment. "Well-designed."
"Lin Xiuxin, my personal tailor, is always outdoing herself," Wen Ruohan laughs. "Alright. You ought to return to the bedroom to dress. Call if you require any help."
Xichen looks very different in red.
The blue and red robes are gorgeous, and fit perfectly. The cut of them is unusual, as is the silhouette. The sleeves are tight, rather than long, clasping around his wrists. The shoulders are padded just enough that, in combination with the minimalist sleeves, they make a screaming statement that they encase significant muscle without looking like an overcompensation. The sash hugs his waist, and is a deep navy blue. It's another modern touch, something Meng Yao has seen frequently in the youth of Qishan. It's a bit odd to think of them as the youth, when they're about the same age as him.
He's never really had age-mates, though. His body is always too young and his mind too old.
His own robes are a clever parallel to Xichen's, though they are all red and white. The waist is narrow as well, but the sleeves are a bit fuller. It has the effect of making him look slightly larger, he notices while examining himself in the mirror.
Xichen comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist. "We match," he murmurs in Meng Yao's ear, eyes catching on the nearly identical cut and similar silhouettes of their robes.
They do match. It's startling, shocking how good they look together. The black of Xichen's hair is a colder, deeper black than the umber tones in Meng Yao's, and where Xichen's hair spills into his, it's still possible to tell the two apart. Their difference in size isn't comical, like Meng Yao assumed it would be. Xichen looks big, and he looks small, it's true, but the differences enhance one another. Meng Yao looks lean, lithe, graceful, contrasted against Xichen's height and obvious strength. Complimentary, that's the word he's looking for when he sees their reflections.
They slot together like a boat and a pier. Like the too-sharp baby teeth of a kitten. Like a pair of hands entwined. Two separate wholes, powerful alone but unstoppable together.
"Maybe we really can do this," he murmurs, unable to tear his gaze off their reflections. Like this, they look like more than just two men trying to keep shifting sands from pouring between their fingers. They look powerful, they look beautiful. They look like they could take on the entire world, and win, so long as they have one another.
Xichen chuckles, and it buzzes through Meng Yao's whole being. He kisses his cheek, never looking away from Meng Yao's eyes in the mirror. "I know we can."
Chapter 13: Between Meng Yao and Wen Huoyao, two parts of him, he thinks he can do this
Summary:
The victory banquet begins.
Notes:
Warning: Jin Guangshan and Wen Ruohan are both in top form for this chapter and the next one, so be prepared for that. Particularly for Wen Ruohan's penchant for nonconsensual exhibitionism and nonconsensual kink.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Seeing two thrones up on the dais is odd, after two years of the throne room looking exactly the same. The metal throne that's been crafted for Meng Yao is smaller and shorter than the one that was already there, but it's quite roomy. He also can't help but notice that both the seat and backrest are cushioned.
Interesting. The emperor's throne isn't cushioned.
Wen Ruohan apologizes for not being able to provide a place for Xichen to sit with them on the dais. He's about to send a servant for a stool when Meng Yao raises his hand.
"I think we can manage just fine, father."
Like we discussed? Meng Yao writes in their array.
Like we discussed, Xichen agrees.
Meng Yao takes Xichen's hand, pulls him up the stairs to the smaller throne, and pushes him into it. The first jade goes happily under Meng Yao's hands. Then he climbs delicately into his betrothed's lap, sitting sideways. Xichen supports his back with one hand, the other resting on his knees.
Wen Ruohan gives a full, loud laugh, actually bending at the waist and bracing his hands on his knees.
Meng Yao arches an eyebrow at him. "He's quite comfortable, a-die," he says.
His father wipes his eyes. "Oh, Yao'er," he chuckles. "You have no idea how it thrills me to see you making yourself at home."
Not long after that, three guards come in with Jiang Wanyin, Jin Zixuan, and Wen Ruohan's Lan concubine Lan Yin, courtesy Guangjuan, all dressed beautifully in full robes. Jin Zixuan is in gold and deep crimson, his hair elaborately done up. Lan Guangjuan is in vibrant bloody red and stark white, while Jiang Wanyin is in purple and vermillion and has his hair in a simple high tail. Meng Yao is pleasantly surprised to see the Clarity bell that dangles from his waist sash.
They bow to the emperor, slow and deep. Jin Zixuan is practically trembling, while Lan Guangjuan is an icy spot of anger, and Jiang Wanyin is nothing but pure professionalism.
"The three of you look lovely," he says, smiling.
Nie Huaisang, or rather the fake Nie Huaisang, is carted in by a guard, since he can't walk in his current bound state. He's never seen Huaisang naked before, and he can get a very good look, considering the copy is wearing only a completely sheer robe, and his hair is pulled back into a single braid.
Meng Yao feels a pang of panicked sympathy before he remembers. This isn't Huaisang.
The copy still looks pitiful. He's been put in a humbler, a device Meng Yao has only had vague knowledge of until now. It seems to be two metal slats that screw together, trapping the skin of his scrotum and pulling his balls between his legs and out behind him. From the front he looks castrated. The slats are too long to fit between his legs, and each end has a ring dangling, which allows for clips to attach to both his ankle cuffs. There are mean metal clamps with little pointy teeth on both nipples, tightly wound enough that he's bleeding. There's a ring on the base of his erection. In his mouth is a heavy-looking leather gag, and the protrusion can be clearly seen inside his throat. It looks thick, and long, and much too cruel to have on for an extended period of time.
Meng Yao makes himself not look away, though he wants to. He saved Huaisang from this. This is not the real Huaisang.
Jiang Wanyin's acting skills impress Meng Yao at every turn. In private, his hatred of Wen Ruohan is effusive and tangible. But here, he's the picture of quiet obedience.
"A-Xuan, you'll be decorating my lap this evening," Ruohan declares as he sits down, tugging the younger man with him. "A-Cheng will be sitting with his sister, representing the Jiang. A-Yin, have a seat on the floor by my feet."
Jiang Wanyin bows, looking surprised. He shoots Meng Yao a look.
Was this your doing? Xichen writes.
I may have mentioned to my father that it would make him look even more benevolent a ruler to the citizens of Yunmeng to still recognize the Jiang as a sect.
Xichen chuckles and kisses him.
"You may start letting the guests in now," the emperor calls.
The delegation from the Jin comes in first. Lo and behold, Jin Guangshan himself is here in the flesh. Finally. With him are probably two dozen cultivators, none of whom Meng Yao knows.
"We greet the emperor. May his majesty live forever!" He bows.
Wen Ruohan grins, and settles his hands on Jin Zixuan's hips. "Good to see you, Guangshan. I'm sure your son is glad to see you as well."
Jin Zixuan squirms. He does not look very glad to see him. He's sitting in the emperor's lap, true, but he's wearing a full set of robes today, nothing scandalous at all. Especially compared to the essentially naked fake Huaisang on the floor by them. Meng Yao can't fathom what he's so embarrassed over.
Jin Guangshan doesn't look at his son. "Has he pleased you, your excellency?"
Wen Ruohan strokes the back of Jin Zixuan's neck. "Very much so. I find him so pleasing I can hardly believe you when you say he was never trained for this."
The tiny flash of humiliated anger in Jin Guangshan's eyes soothes a bit of Meng Yao's snarling anger at seeing the man. He's the one at the top of the stairs, now, he's the one looking down.
"I am surprised to see Zewu-jun here," Jin Guangshan says. "I would have imagined him to also be a... very pleasing concubine."
Underneath him, Xichen stiffens.
What's wrong?
A feeling of fluttery insecurity suffuses the communication matrix. He's always leered at me. Since I was a child. I do not like him looking at me.
Anger washes through Meng Yao again, once again directed at the leader of the former Jin sect. Perhaps he should jump down the stairs and rip out those awful, glittering eyes. He sees the faintest hints of desire in Jin Guangshan now. Desire for what doesn't belong to him.
Did he ever… touch you, or try anything?
No. He only ever stared, and occasionally remarked to my uncle that I was truly beautiful.
What an awful man.
Should I make it clear to him that you're taken?
Xichen shuddered a bit. Please.
He adjusts a bit in the throne, sitting up straighter. Meng Yao twists his head, cups the back of Zewu-jun's skull to capture his mouth in a deep kiss. His lips eagerly part, allowing Meng Yao's tongue inside to taste his teeth.
Wen Ruohan laughs. "Zewu-jun has a much more important role here in Nightless City than a mere bedwarmer, Guangshan." He flicks his fingers, an obvious dismissal. "You will hear more about it later. I have other guests to greet."
The Jin delegates take their seats. Meng Yao can still feel Jin Guangshan's eyes on them, and when they finally end the kiss and Meng Yao looks his way, his cheeks are a bit flush with what looks like anger.
"Be at peace, my son," his father says quietly. "I will make certain everyone here understands that he is yours, and yours alone."
Meng Yao nods, and leans his head against Xichen's chest. "Thank you, a-die. I didn't like the way that... rat looked at my betrothed." Getting to speak disparagingly about Jin Guangshan in public is oddly thrilling.
The emperor huffs. "No, neither did I. I may have to remind him of his place."
The delegates from the Lan are next. Lan Wangji and Lan Qiren lead twelve other Lan cultivators, and they bow in perfect unison. Lan Wangji's eyes are glued on them. The entire delegation is staring, though they aren't whispering, because they're Lan and they don't gossip. Much like the Jin, they completely ignore the fake Huaisang. Maybe the sight of him is just too awful to look at.
"The Lan greets you," Lan Qiren says. They all bow once again.
"Welcome back to Nightless City, Grandmaster Lan, Hanguang-jun." Wen Ruohan has one hand on Jin Zixuan's ass. "How is Gusu fairing?"
Darkness flickers over Lan Qiren's eyes. Meng Yao knows it was a barbed question, because everyone is aware that the Lan are struggling. They have no allies anymore, with the Jiang destroyed, the Nie forcefully subjugated, and the Jin now part of the Wen empire as well, there is no one for them to turn to besides the emperor. Much of Gusu was burned during the war, Cloud Recess itself mostly destroyed.
"We are well, Chief Cultivator," Lan Qiren says, and looks to his nephew.
Lan Wangji bows. "I would like to request that our sect leader be allowed to sit with us during the banquet."
Wen Ruohan hums. Jin Zixuan squeaks, and Meng Yao can just barely see that the emperor is roughly squeezing his ass. "I am afraid I will have to deny your request. Zewu-jun is currently occupied."
Well, there goes that part of the plan, Xichen writes in the matrix.
"May I ask exactly what he is occupied with, Chief Cultivator?" A woman standing directly behind Lan Wangji asks, her eyes cast to the floor.
Now Wen Ruohan chuckles. "He is occupied with making my heir comfortable, is it not obvious?" He gives Jin Zixuan's rear a firm smack that makes him jump in place.
Lan Qiren almost has steam coming out of his ears. "Chief Cultivator, I would ask you to explain to the Lan exactly what our sect leader's position here is," he asks. His voice trembles just the faintest amount.
He's afraid I'm a concubine, Xichen writes. I do not think he's figured out who you are yet.
Should I say something? Meng Yao asks.
Before Xichen can respond, the emperor waves them away. "Take your seats, all your questions will be answered shortly."
A few guards have to escort them to their spots. Lan Wangji never once looks away from his brother.
Maybe we will get a chance to talk to them after the banquet, Meng Yao writes.
I hope so.
The Nie delegation is next. They are led by Nie Zonghui, who Meng Yao remembers somewhat fondly from his time in Qinghe. He only has three cultivators with him, and he looks haggard and exhausted. Meng Yao is a bit surprised he is here at all, since Qinghe has been forcefully conquered.
Zonghui stares with open alarm at the fake Huaisang. Even though he knows this isn't actually him, the sight is still unpleasant. He opens his mouth to say something, but a loud shout cuts him off before he can even take a breath.
"Take your hands off of me!"
The aggressive call from out in the hallway is followed by a crash, then a loud thump, then a shout of pain. Meng Yao jolts in alarm.
And then Nie Mingjue is carted in, escorted by eight guards. He's well-dressed and clean looking, his hair is done up, he's in Nie colors. He looks… startlingly normal. Except for the fact that he's being bodily dragged into every step he takes.
The guards force him onto a cushion. He slams his head backwards and the man who had both hands on his shoulders barely dodges in time.
"You are a guest for now, Chifeng-zun," Wen Ruohan scolds. "And I have even allowed for the man leading the rest of your people in your stead to come visit you. Aren't I generous?"
Zonghui abandons the other Nie cultivators to rush over to Chifeng-zun's side.
"Ah," the emperor says, and two of Chifeng-zun's guards step into his path. "Are you not going to greet your emperor?"
Zonghui clenches his fists, turns around, and walks back to the foot of the stairs. "We greet--"
"HUAISANG!!" Chifeng-zun shouts. One of his guards grabs his hair and slams his face into the table.
"No shouting," she scolds.
Zonghui has a tear on his cheek. He bows, low and deferent, hiding his face. "We greet the emperor, may his rule be long and just."
"I'm so pleased to see Qinghe in more agreeable hands," Wen Ruohan chuckles. "Escort them to their seats."
To Meng Yao's surprise and sadness, the Nie delegates are not seated anywhere near Chifeng-zun. They're put between the Lan and the wall, as far from him as they can be while still in the room.
So Zonghui won't be able to drop hints about the fake Huaisang either. Shit.
The rest of the guests are seated quickly, and food is brought out.
May I feed you? Xichen asks.
Kicking his leg over the arm of his throne, Meng Yao leans against his chest and nuzzles his neck. Go ahead. I think my father would like to see that.
Meng Yao never moves his hands from Xichen's shoulders. His betrothed feeds him carefully, bites of rice and slivers of fruit and pieces of smoked fish and steamed buns.
Then, Wen Ruohan shifts and stands up. He raises both his hands and the entire room goes silent. "Before we can officially begin, I have several joyous announcements I would like to make, my friends." He smiles broadly and gestures around him. "I am sure you all have noticed I am not alone up here, on the dais."
"Huaisang!!" Nie Mingjue shouts. He tries to stand, but one of his guards punches him. He staggers back down.
Wen Ruohan gives him a derisive glare. "No, I was not referring to my concubines, but I may as well take this opportunity to introduce them, since someone else appears to be trying to. Thank you, Chifeng-zun." He grabs hold of Jin Zixuan's arm, pulling him up to stand by his side. "The Lanling Jin were the first to surrender to me and accept me as their emperor, wisely so. As such I have taken Jin Zixuan, the former heir of the Lanling Jin sect, as my beloved first concubine, and given him much favor here." The emperor traces his hand over Jin Zixuan's neck, then hooks his fingers into the fine golden chain encircling his throat.
Somehow, though he's flushed with shame and seems overwhelmed, Jin Zixuan also preens under the attention. Several members of their audience hum and huff and murmur about how lovely he looks tonight, how well his clothing suits him, and whether or not the emperor will allow his loyal subjects to see or perhaps even partake in his body.
Meng Yao shudders. He prays that they'll be spared that particular torment.
"However, you all probably know that the Qinghe Nie refused to surrender and keep their dignity," Wen Ruohan continues, "despite the many chances I so kindly gave them, which led to me having no choice but to conquer them by force."
Ah, the many chances to surrender while their fortress was surrounded. The many chances to surrender when there was no other option besides death, and the Nie would always choose death. Anything over surrender.
He thinks that Wen Ruohan is taking special pleasure in forcing them to surrender.
The fake Huaisang squeaks in pain. Meng Yao turns his face into Xichen's neck, both to place a few gentle bites and to hide his expression.
I wish I could have just two minutes alone with Mingjue-xiong, Xichen writes.
So do I.
"Since I am a kind ruler, I did not have them slaughtered. I have merely taken their leader Nie Mingjue as my prisoner, and his younger brother Nie Huaisang as my third concubine."
Meng Yao almost scoffs at this. The Nie wouldn't find them being left alive to be a mercy. They are a proud people, all of Qinghe are like that. They'd probably all have preferred death. Even the real Huaisang.
"Very kind!" A man from the recently surrendered Baling Ouyang calls.
"The Nie have always been full of themselves," a woman in Jin robes with a long fan tied at her hip agrees. "It's refreshing to see them so humbled."
I have never been so glad to know my friend's cultivation is sealed, Xichen writes. I think he would be qi deviating right this moment if it wasn't.
Meng Yao chews and swallows the delicious slice of buttery fish that Xichen offers him before looking. He's meant to be relaxed and in control, flaunting his power. He can't rush anything.
Nie Mingjue is staring at Wen Ruohan with a glare that could rival the heat of the sun. Maybe the sun couldn't be shot down, but could it be consumed by another, larger sun? He hides his small smile at the thought in his sleeve, playing at covering his mouth while chewing.
"Give me another of that delicious fish, A-Huan," he murmurs.
Xichen obediently picks up another piece, but he brings it to his own mouth instead and clamps it between his teeth. Then he leans down, a clear offering, which Meng Yao has no desire to refuse. He eats the fish from Xichen's mouth, and it's hard to tell when it changes into a kiss, but it does. His betrothed cups the back of his head, supporting him. Meng Yao caresses his cheek. It feels wanton and shameless, but that is entirely in character for the person he must play tonight. And, if Meng Yao and Xichen are providing the lewd entertainment, hopefully the emperor will not feel like he needs to show off his concubines.
Wen Ruohan is explaining how he took in Jiang Yanli and Jiang Wanyin, the last of their sect. Everyone lauds him once again for his kindness. Those who had been looking at Jiang Wanyin with respect now look at him with pity, or scorn, or both, once the emperor announces that he is his second concubine.
"However," his father says, face turning more serious, "when I mentioned that I was not alone on the dais, I was referring to my son." He gestures at them, a short and curt beckon. Meng Yao stands up, sad to leave Xichen's exceptionally comfortable lap, but he knew this was coming. He goes to stand at his father's side.
Wen Ruohan smiles briefly, the expression sharp but also deeply indulgent. And fond. "You all remember how that unnecessary war stole my oldest sons, Wen Xu and Wen Chao, from me." He pauses here, just for a moment, a stretch of quiet for his two dead biological children. "Before their deaths, I took in a ward, who impressed me with his competency and brilliance. His biological father made it clear he did not want him, so I adopted him as my own son."
Meng Yao is frightfully close to losing all control of his expression when he sees the look of thunderous anger mixed with utter revulsion on Jin Guangshan's face. He wants to laugh himself sick, honestly. Now that man gives a shit about him?
"Others had kicked him out, beaten him down, and treated him poorly, but I could see him for what he truly is: a genius mind and a capable cultivator."
Tingles of shocked joy run down his back. He wasn't warned of this, that he'd be praised so intensely in front of everyone!
Judging by the emperor's grin, Meng Yao surmises he isn't done with him yet. "With him at my side, we won this war. I would like to introduce Wen Huoyao to you all."
Even though the name isn't a surprise, he still reels a bit inside.
He has a courtesy name, and the surname of a great sect. Given to him in recognition of his efforts, his contributions, despite those efforts all actually being for the benefit of the enemy, but still. It's the thought that counts.
He can be Wen Huoyao, now, when he needs to be. Wen Huoyao is the crown prince, the emperor's favorite son. Wen Huoyao is secure in his station, his power, his place. It's a better alias to take on than the paltry 'torturer' that had gotten him through the war and apparently into Wen Ruohan's heart.
Wen Huoyao has little gentleness, little mercy. Wen Huoyao has Wen Ruohan's favor and love, and trust. Between Meng Yao and Wen Huoyao, two parts of him, he thinks he can do this, can truly and honestly do this. Wen Huoyao will keep them safe, bend and manipulate Wen Ruohan to always overlook him and his allies, while Meng Yao will work behind closed doors to find the weak point this maniac is sure to have, and to poke and prod at the castle of sticks until it collapses.
"Huoyao was instrumental to the Wen during this war," Wen Ruohan continues. He sounds a trace smug, glancing to him expectantly, and Meng Yao sets himself aside. Tonight, he will be Wen Huoyao. His father wants to see him revel in this newfound power, hm? He can do that.
He writes a brief explanation to Xichen, who smiles.
Do what you have to, my love. Make that evil man adore you.
Huoyao allows the grin that he'd kept inside to leak out, one muscle at a time, until he's smiling, standing straight at his father's side.
Wen Ruohan seems very pleased by this development. "Just think," he says in a darker tone, "if his biological father or his first employer hadn't thrown him out like trash, how much more fortunate the losing side could have been."
He allows the thought for a few, brief moments.
Him as a Jin cultivator, carefully navigating forces around traps and straight into the weakest part of the underbelly of Nightless City. Him as a Nie cultivator, cooling Chifeng-zun's temper and helping him focus.
That would have been rather fortunate for them, wouldn't it?
Though no one really seems to know exactly who the emperor is referring to, besides Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangshan themselves, everyone laughs or mutters.
The emperor laughs too, mean and loud and sharp enough to cut. "And, as Huoyao is my only remaining child, he is also my heir."
Daiyu, always vigilantly listening for her cues, takes this one with enthusiasm. She slams her spear into the ground and demands that everyone bow.
I am coming to support you, A-Yao, Xichen writes.
Then Zewu-jun, Lan Xichen, the Lord of Wild Brilliance, is standing in front of him and then kneeling in front of him. He looks up at Huoyao with an awed glint.
You're stunning like this, stunning in power, he writes. You wear it beautifully. Huoyao. My love.
He looks down at his betrothed. Huoyao is not as kind as Meng Yao, Zewu-jun. If you didn't care for him, I would understand.
Xichen lowers himself even further, stretching the long muscled arc of his back and slipping easily into a kowtow. Meng Yao and Wen Huoyao are both my A-Yao. They are both you, and I love you.
Huoyao is abruptly aware of blood rushing in his veins, his heart soaring. Both Meng Yao and Wen Huoyao have the love of Lan Xichen, the only title they have in common is A-Yao, Zewu-jun's A-Yao. That love makes them strong.
It makes him so much stronger than Wen Ruohan.
Almost everyone in the room follows Xichen's example. Every single one of the Lan and the Jin and even the Nie bow. Nie Zonghui knows of Huoyao's treachery against his father, of course, and seems to have no reservations about bowing all the way to the floor.
The only person who refuses to budge is Nie Mingjue. He's kicked by the guards until finally, they wrench his arms behind his back and make him bow.
"Very good," the emperor says after a moment. "You may rise."
Xichen flows like water back to his feet. His eyes are soft, sweet, gazing into Huoyao's.
I want to make love to you tonight, he writes in the matrix, and Huoyao swears his heart stops for a moment. I want to carry you back to our rooms and spread you on the bed. I want to taste every inch of your skin. I want to wrap your legs around my waist and bury myself so deeply inside your body you can taste it. I want to give you everything.
Huoyao is very proud that he somehow keeps his expression neutral, after reading that.
"This brings me to my final, and most joyous, announcement," Wen Ruohan continues. "The Gusu Lan have also surrendered, and accepted my rule. To solidify our friendship, when Zewu-jun asked for Huoyao's hand in marriage, I accepted."
The peace that came while everyone was bowing is shattered into a million pieces.
Notes:
The next chapter will be coming soon, in a day or two! I don't want to leave you waiting for too long.
Chapter 14: How can he not see this is the only way we will survive?
Summary:
The victory banquet continues, and Lan Qiren is displeased.
Notes:
Warning: disownment. Also the fake NHS gets tortured a tiny bit.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"Lan Huan!" Lan Qiren barks. "What is the meaning of this?! We never discussed surrendering!"
Huoyao wonders how the grandmaster expected Xichen to discuss this with him. The one and only messenger crow Xichen has been able to coax to obey him had been sent to the Unclean Realm, with the array and instructions for creating the duplicate Huaisang. He is not allowed to send letters, the distance between Gusu and Qishan is much too far for a communication matrix like he and Xichen use, and neither of them know the Jin messenger butterfly spell.
His betrothed takes this, like everything else, with such grace it looks easy. "We did not," he admits. "But it is in the best interest of the clan. And it is my last act as sect leader." He breathes deeply, like he's bracing himself. He probably is. Huoyao puts a steadying hand on his arm, which most of the room will easily misinterpret as a possessive gesture instead. "In order to keep the Lan safe, to make the friendship between the emperor and my sect strong, I have decided to marry Wen Huoyao, and leave the Lan in the care of my brother and uncle. I am stepping down."
Lan Qiren looks as close to a qi deviation as Nie Mingjue, now.
How can he not see this is the only way we will survive? Xichen writes in the matrix.
"Lan Huan! You cannot do this, you cannot surrender us all!"
A flash of annoyance leaks into the matrix. He's never respected my authority as sect leader, he writes bitterly.
"I can do this, uncle, and I will. It is better than being burned to death by the sun that cannot be shot down." He looks meaningfully at the fake Huaisang.
"Fine," Lan Qiren spits. He doesn't just spit the words, he actually spits on the ground too. "Then you are no nephew nor disciple of mine."
Huoyao's heart absolutely stops beating for a few moments.
What the hell is that old bastard thinking?!?!
From his perspective, Xichen has sold himself to an enemy in order to protect his family, and this is how his uncle responds? He wants to leap down the stairs and punch the Lan grandmaster in the face until he begs to be allowed to recall his words.
"As the head of the Lan elders, speaking to a senior Lan disciple, I hereby strip you of the Lan surname, and eject you from my family. You are no longer welcome in Cloud Recess." He raises a hand, palm up, like he's asking for something.
Xichen's shoulders jerk and he sobs, just once.
Huoyao's heart wrenches and aches like he never imagined was possible. He'll burn down Cloud Recess, again. He'll strip every inch of skin off Lan Qiren's body, roll him in salt, and then toss him in the river for making Xichen cry, even if it's only for a brief moment. And Wen Ruohan will let him, since the Lan will no longer be tied to the royal family by marriage.
Gods, how is Lan Qiren so stupid!?
But Xichen is clearly not entirely surprised by this development. He wipes his cheek. "That is alright. If it is what I must bear for the sect, then I shall."
To Huoyao's absolute horror, Xichen's hands reach up behind his head and he unties his forehead ribbon.
No. No. Nonononononononono--
It slips easily into his hand. He holds the charm delicately between two fingers, and tosses it. It makes it about halfway down the stairs, hits one and bounces shockingly high back up from the impact, then falls to the floor, grazing Lan Qiren's fingers. The Lan Grandmaster bends to pick it up and tuck it into his sleeve.
No. What the hell is this? What kind of authority does this old man have to kick Zewu-jun out of his own sect?!?
He has the authority, he did the instant I announced I am stepping down, Xichen writes calmly, and Huoyao almost screams out loud, realizing he's been writing in the communication matrix this whole time. There was a tiny corner of me that knew this was a possibility. However slight.
"Traitor," one of the Lan cultivators behind Lan Qiren snarls.
Huoyao wants to shred him, and then string up whatever is left of him at the gates to Cloud Recess to be food for the flies. How dare he. How dare he spit on Xichen's sacrifice, his saving of his life and home and family?!? He doesn't realize he's taken a step forward until Xichen's hand on his arm prevents him from taking another.
"Our lives are not worth whoring yourself to the Wen, Zewu-jun," another whispers, horrified.
"At least he's not a concubine," someone mutters gratefully.
Those are better reactions, showing loyalty to their sect lead-- to the man who saved them. Most of the Lan delegation is staring at Lan Qiren with the open horror that Huoyao himself is feeling.
"He was unusually close to that son of a whore when he came to Cloud Recess with the Nie," a woman beside Lan Qiren says thoughtfully.
A murderous look takes over Wen Ruohan's face. He takes one step down, eyes blazing. He's going to kill this woman for speaking ill of Huoyao and his mother, and he sees to no reason to stop his father. Wen Ruohan did say he would, but seeing it in action is different from hearing it.
Lan Wangji still acts quicker. He grabs the woman who spoke by both shoulders. "Do not insult the crown prince. Apologize."
After she gets a nod from Lan Qiren, she steps forward and bows. "I apologize, your excellency," she says.
Wen Ruohan glances at Huoyao. Waiting to see what he does, if he decides to accept the apology. He doesn't want to, he wants the entire Lan delegation whipped for this.
Please do not hate them so viciously, Xichen writes, and it drains his anger like lancing an infected wound.
Huoyao will never deny Xichen. Never.
"You are forgiven," he grates out. He takes Xichen's hand, laces their fingers together, and tugs him to sit back down.
May I hold you, A-Huan?
Xichen shudders faintly. Please.
Huoyao settles in his lap, wrapping both arms around his broad shoulders.
I've got you, he writes. I'm sorry, I didn't see this coming.
Xichen hides his face in Huoyao's neck. Like he's ashamed of his bare forehead, or maybe his tears. Huoyao lets him hide, strokes his hair, and wonders if there is a way he can fix this.
Even if the Lan grandmaster is allowed in on their plan now, he can't walk this back. He's disowned Xichen in front of the entire world. Anyone who is anyone saw. If Xichen is suddenly taken back with no explanation, people will get suspicious.
He clenches his teeth. He can't fix this. He can't give Xichen back what's rightfully his. The knowledge grinds hot and dry on his heart, especially as Xichen starts to sniffle again.
Lan Qiren is a fool and neither Wen Huoyao nor Meng Yao will ever forgive him for this.
"Now that that is out of the way," Wen Ruohan says, "I have one more order of business to take care of." The emperor steps back up to his throne and kisses Jin Zixuan on the cheek, surprisingly gentle and affectionate.
Then he picks up the fake Huaisang, bonds and all.
Keep your head down, Huoyao writes. You probably don't want to watch this.
"I would like everyone to pay close attention, and take note of what happens to those who disobey me."
Huoyao shivers. Xichen tries to lift his head, but Huoyao grabs his hair and holds him. You don't want to watch this, love. You certainly don't have to.
Xichen relaxes. If… you will tell me if anything important happens?
Of course.
Wen Ruohan puts the fake Huaisang's knees on the topmost stair and bends him over, exposing his ass and tortured balls. There's a heavy metal plug between his cheeks.
Nie Mingjue screams wordlessly with rage. His guards are all over him, and it takes three of them to subdue him.
I wish we had gotten the chance to tell him, Xichen writes. He's still crying quietly into Huoyao's neck. Even if it's risky I wish we had just told him the whole truth...
He was catatonic until yesterday, A-Huan, and wasn't allowed any visitors, Huoyao reminds him. He remembers, he made one final last-ditch effort to tell Chifeng-zun yesterday evening that all was not as it seemed, but he'd been thrown out by the healer before even getting to lay eyes on the man.
Huoyao looks back at his father. He's seated at the top of the stairs, one leg slung over the fake Huaisang's back to keep him in place.
"Poor little A-Sang," he chuckles. The emperor ruthlessly pinches that already stretched scrotum. The fake Huaisang screams, or tries to, at least. The gag that goes at least a few inches down his throat makes the sound an incomprehensible, miserable gurgle. "Your brother just couldn't yield, could he?" He unhooks the riding crop he's been carrying lately from his belt.
Huoyao is torn in several ways. On the one hand, Huoyao is well-versed in dealing out punishments, pains, tortures. It's how he made his way in Qishan. He could easily be called a master of torture if it wasn't for his staunch refusal to take this route personally, this exact method that's being demonstrated right now. He does not have many limits, this is the only one he knows about: he will not put a sexual slant on his torture. Ever.
But it's not so bad, like this, when he knows the subject isn't a real living being, and nobody is being hurt. He can even take a tiny bit of malicious glee in seeing Nie Mingjue look so miserable.
But Xichen is miserable in his arms, miserable over being disowned, miserable over Nie Mingjue's misery. That puts a damper on things. Wen Huoyao cares about far fewer things than Meng Yao does, but they both feel the same about Lan--
He clenches his fists. They both feel the same way about Xichen, no surname, because he's been disowned.
Wen Ruohan hits the fake Huaisang's balls a few times, while their audience watches, some laughing or jeering, some staring in horror, others hiding their faces or closing their eyes.
"STOP!" Nie Mingjue roars. He's still grappling with his guards, four of them now. One for each limb.
His father arches a brow at him. "Why should I?"
A long moment of silence passes, broken only by the whimpering of the fake Huaisang and a single choked yelp as the emperor gives him another strike with the crop.
Chifeng-zun looks broken. His robes are askew, his hair half undone from wrestling with four much stronger people who had their cultivation unsealed and still somehow giving them a run for their money. His eyes are wet with unshed tears.
"What do you want?" He growls.
His father hums and starts playing with the plug, drawing it out a bit. "Are you making me an offer, Chifeng-zun?" The plug is slammed back in. "You are willing to negotiate now, when it is already too late?"
Meng Yao wants to cry at the sight of Chifeng-zun humbled at last. Huoyao would rather laugh.
Instead he holds tighter to Xichen. Are you alright?
Barely, he writes back. I wish I could help him. He sounds… I've never heard him sound like that before.
Nie Mingjue grits his teeth. "What. Do. You. Want?" He gulps. "Please," he says in a much softer voice.
Huoyao's jaw drops. Chifeng-zun, begging. Pleading.
He looks back to his father and his stomach drops. Wen Ruohan has a glint in his eye, the kind he had when Jin Zixuan first arrived at the Fire Palace.
No. Fuck, no. This can't be happening. A tiny, terrified moan falls past his lips and he can't catch it in time, to his utter humiliation. It was so quiet, too quiet for anyone but him and Xichen to hear.
Shit. Wen Ruohan cannot be thinking of adding Nie Mingjue to his harem? Nie Mingjue is a sect leader, but then again, technically so is Jiang Wanyin.
What can he do? He obviously can't defuse Chifeng-zun. He can't reveal the truth about the fake Huaisang here with so many witnesses. Could he maybe ask to keep Nie Mingjue as his own concubine? No, he's already said he doesn't want concubines, already told his father that. Vehemently. A personal prisoner, then? No, then his father will expect him to torture Chifeng-zun, and Huoyao is discovering that though he can look on while others harm him, he has no desire to do it himself.
Then his father speaks. "If you crawl up these stairs and kiss my shoes, I will give A-Sang a break for the remainder of the banquet," he offers.
Huoyao releases a breath he feels like he's been holding for years. He wants to shake Chifeng-zun by his hair and scream take it, take it, do you really think I would have ever allowed this to happen to Huaisang?! Huaisang never betrayed me, he wasn't the one who kicked me out like a mongrel.
Nie Mingjue takes the offer. He crawls on his hands and knees all the way up the stairs and kisses both of Wen Ruohan's shoes without complaint, even the one still slung over the fake Huaisang's back.
He did it, Huoyao writes to Xichen with no small amount of sheer relief.
Thank the gods, he responds. He's not crying anymore, but he still has his face buried. I wish Mingjue-xiong was a little less stubborn.
After a moment the emperor releases the fake, removing his leg and the humbler. Then he unlocks the wrist cuffs. "A-Xuan," he calls, "Come take A-Sang to sit with you."
Jin Zixuan puts a surprisingly caring arm around the copy and guides him back to the throne. He releases the buckle on the gag, and withdraws it. Huoyao is slightly impressed, and in awe that the copy didn't choke to death. The phallic shaped protrusion on the gag is several inches longer than he initially thought. Jin Zixuan gently rubs the marks on the fake's wrists.
Jin Zixuan is being very gentle and kind with the fake Huaisang, he tells Xichen. Maybe they've come to be friends.
It is good young master Jin has someone to support him.
"What are you still doing up here? Go back to your seat." Wen Ruohan flaps his hand.
Chifeng-zun walks back down the stairs with shocking dignity, a violent contrast to his hopeless submission from earlier.
He'll find this reassuring when he's next Meng Yao, he knows. Chifeng-zun is not broken yet, there is still time for him and for Xichen to smuggle him to freedom.
For now, he just holds tightly to his betrothed, and allows himself to relax as much as he can. They have a plan. They know what they are doing. They have strong allies, but even if they didn't, he and Xichen will be unstoppable. He won't allow it to be any other way.
Notes:
Curious about the banquet from Wen Ruohan's perspective? You can check that out here!
Chapter 15: I failed my best friend
Summary:
Everything happens at once. Lan Qiren has nothing to say, Meng Yao does a dangerous amount of compartmentalization, and we finally catch up to the prologue.
Notes:
This is the immediate aftermath of the victory banquet as it pertains to Xiyao. You can read this chapter first, or you can go read this, the immediate aftermath as it pertains to Wen Ruohan, first. They can be read in any order, depending on the reader's preference. The one from Wen Ruohan's POV, like all the extras that are not posted as chapters in Jade and Fire, is not essential to the main plot, and does not have to be read by any stretch. Reading it will enhance the storyline, though, as well as illuminate some things that Xiyao doesn't know about.
Chapter Text
Things calm down after that. Chifeng-zun is taken back to the dungeon about halfway through, because he looks like he's falling asleep. Huoyao continues to eat, feeding himself and occasionally Xichen, keeping a firm embrace around him and whispering reassurances in his ears as well as writing them in the matrix. It works, enough to hold Xichen together.
As the banquet ends, Huoyao sheds himself. Xichen needs Meng Yao, right now.
"What can I do to help you?" He whispers, guiding his betrothed to his feet.
Xichen stopped crying quite a while ago, but he's still a bit hazy and unsteady. "I want to try to talk with them," he whispers back.
Meng Yao takes his arm, and they walk down the stairs and into the crowd. Several people comment on how good they look together, and he ignores them. He even ignores the person who chuckles and says that Xichen is much prettier without his ribbon.
They reach the Lan delegates, who are preparing to leave. Lan Qiren stands up and puts himself between them and the rest of the group.
"Can I help you?" He asks icily.
Xichen steps toward him. "Uncle, if you would just let me explain--"
Lan Qiren slaps him.
He slaps him. He slaps Xichen on the face.
"You forget your place. Do not presume such familiarity," he says stiffly.
Meng Yao sees red, and inside him there's something clawing out, a darkness with a hundred spidery legs. A mask rising from the grave. It's not Wen Huoyao, it's the torturer, it's the worst of him and it spills right out because his anger is slick and it eases the way.
He wrenches one of Lan Qiren's arms up and around, flips him and throws him face-down on the table the Lan had been eating at. He's a very strong cultivator, but this torturer is angry and he's being watched and he won't play fair. He never does. He shoves his booted foot between the man's legs and presses down, applying harsh pressure. Lan Qiren gives a shocked whine.
All men are the same. Get one foot on their balls and they'll crumble. He's never tortured like this before, but he got a surprise demonstration not long ago. He's a quick study.
A-Yao, wait!
He snaps and falls back to himself. Someone who matters is asking something of him.
Please go easy on him, Xichen writes. If he must be punished, be gentle.
It takes a moment to banish the torturer from his body, but he does. He drags and crawls his way back to Wen Huoyao, who can never deny his love anything.
"Apologize," he says in an even tone, grinding his foot down. "He may not be a Lan, not to you, but he is my betrothed. And you will treat him with respect."
It's Lan Wangji who moves first. He bows, to Xichen first, which Huoyao appreciates. "I extend my deepest apologies on the behalf of my sect, and my personal apologies..." he pauses, visibly gulps. His eyebrows twitch. He reaches out, just a little bit, with the tips of his fingers, but retreats a second later and bows to Huoyao. "I apologize to you as well, your majesty."
Lan Qiren grunts. It could maybe be passed off as a sound of agreement. It's enough.
Huoyao looks up at the dais only to find it completely empty. The emperor is gone, so is Jin Zixuan and the fake Huaisang. When did they leave?
He removes his foot. "I ask only that you remember your manners," he says, biting and acidic. He turns to Xichen. "Shall we--"
A frantic writing in the matrix he shares with Daiyu cuts him off. My prince, Wen Ruohan is going down to the dungeon to meet with Chifeng-zun!
Huoyao's insides go cold. "I am tired," he says to Xichen. We need to get out of here now. The emperor is going to speak with Chifeng-zun.
Xichen's face turns white.
Huoyao takes his arm and half-guides, half-drags him away. Once out of the throne room Xichen starts breathing normally again. Huoyao squeezes his hand.
We will figure it out, he promises. All will be well.
Wen Ruohan's voice can be clearly heard once they reach the lowest level of the dungeon, coming toward them. They hide in the shadows of an alcove as he passes them. Daiyu, do you know why he went to visit Chifeng-zun?
No. I heard it from Tieyun and Ziran, who were asked to escort him.
He collects himself. It's entirely possible his father only went to continue rubbing the humiliation in his face. Nothing more.
Alright. Thank you.
"I can't believe he agreed so easily," Ziran chuckles as they walk past. "You truly can bend anyone, Wen-xiong."
"A wonderful thing to be privy to," Tieyun agrees. "Do you think you would perhaps share him?"
Terror turns him rigid in Xichen's arms. He can't hear Wen Ruohan's reply, because they're too far away.
They dart out of the corridor and run down the stairs, past cell after cell after cell until they are in the lowest level and Huoyao is fumbling for his dungeon master key.
When he opens the door, Chifeng-zun is cringing away, arms curled around his head. Fuck. What the fuck did Wen Ruohan do to scare him this bad?
"Chifeng-zun," he calls.
The man's head snaps up and he lunges, arms out and fingers curled viciously like he's some kind of beast. Huoyao takes a step back, hand drifting to his sword but that isn't necessary. Xichen leaps between them and catches Nie Mingjue in place, as if he weighs nothing and is an unruly kitten.
There's blatant relief and recognition in his eyes, but it vanishes under fury so intense Huoyao is vaguely surprised nothing has been scorched to ash by it yet. "Xichen," he gasps. "Let me go, I'll tear him apart, I'll--"
"Mingjue-xiong!" He shakes Chifeng-zun by the shoulders. Xichen looks wild. He's furious, he's terrified, he feels alone and afraid and he's babbling into the matrix about how they've failed, how he's a terrible friend. "Tell me, please, please gods above tell me you did not agree to any of Wen Ruohan's bargains."
Chifeng-zun's face contorts into a whirlwind of rage and misery. "Of course I did! He was keeping my little brother as a sex toy, Xichen! I couldn't just leave Huaisang in that situation!"
It's over, Xichen writes. He's either going to be added to the harem or executed. I failed my best friend.
He sounds heartbroken. He doesn't look heartbroken. Xichen is shaking violently, fists clenched.
Why does he have to be so fucking noble? Why so self-sacrificing!? Did he really have no faith in me!?!? The words are written hugely, filling up most of the matrix.
There is nothing we can do, A-Huan, Huoyao reminds him. Not right now or like this. But we will find a way.
Finally it seems that Xichen's rage has boiled over. "Oh, you stupid man," he whispers, eyes beginning to water. "You sentimental simpleton, you absolute moron!" He shakes him again, making his neck flop a bit. He's raising his voice. Huoyao quickly throws a box of silence around the three of them, because there aren't many guards here on the lowest level, but there are a few.
"You idiot! You complete and utter fool!" Xichen is almost screaming in Chifeng-zun's face, energy roiling, shaking him as if that would help. "We had it under control, and then you just had to go and play the hero!"
He didn't know we had it under control, he writes. Xichen either misses it or ignores it. Most of the matrix is still full of Why does he have to be so fucking noble?
Then Xichen raises his hand. Huoyao is watching in slow motion, watching Xichen about to slap someone he loves. He's not certain in what way his betrothed loves Nie Mingjue, but there is obvious affection.
Xichen is hurt right now. He's lashing out. He'll regret this, he'll think his relationship with Chifeng-zun broken irreparably.
Huoyao catches Xichen's wrist before the strike can land.
"This will not help anything, A-Huan," he says in his best gentle, soothing voice. Meng Yao is trying to get out, but Huoyao holds him in. Meng Yao will sob and beg Nie Mingjue to forgive him, because Meng Yao, much like Xichen, holds this implacable love for Chifeng-zun. Huoyao does not. Huoyao's heart only has room for his mother, and Xichen. "What's done is done. I'll-- we'll figure out something, I promise, but this is not the solution. It won't even make you feel better. You are hurt and upset right now, and I will not let you do something I know you'll regret."
The look on Nie Mingjue's face would be more at home on a child who had broken their favorite toy. Not on the Scarlet Blade Master of Qinghe Nie.
"A-Huan?" He repeats, voice thin.
Huoyao wants to scoff and slap him. Wasn't there a time, years ago, when Meng Yao had been eating dinner with Chifeng-zun and Huaisang, that the Nie leader had thought Meng Yao a good match for Zewu-jun? Hadn't Huaisang asked da-ge, who in the cultivation world do you think would be the best match for Yao-ge? Hadn't Chifeng-zun tossed his head back and said Xichen, absolutely Xichen, he likes smart and pretty.
Then again, he'd been talking about Meng Yao. He doesn't know that Meng Yao still exists, he doesn't know he hasn't completely changed into Wen Huoyao. He doesn't know they are one and the same, he doesn't know about the symbiosis that keeps him and Xichen safe in Nightless City.
"He calls you-- you're, you are really…" he's trembling, hand to foot.
Xichen shatters into a million pieces. He almost falls, but Huoyao catches him. They both have to hold onto the bars.
Chifeng-zun's eyes go small and cold and furious. "Traitor!"
For a brief moment in time, everything crystallizes into stillness. Chifeng-zun is lunging for Xichen with his hands outstretched, murder on his face plain as day. He's going to hurt Xichen. He, like everyone else, is handed Xichen's sacrifice and is choosing to throw it in the dirt and stomp on it.
Sure, people are hurting and upset right now, but that is no excuse to take it out on Xichen, who is the most innocent person in all of Qishan.
Huoyao zips between them, both hands out, and shoves a wall of power at the charging man. Chifeng-zun stumbles and then falls right on his ass. He wants to laugh, ask if the mighty Sect Leader Nie ever thought there was a day this bastard son of a whore would toss him on his back so easily.
"Have you been with them, with him, all along!?!"
Yes, Xichen has been with him from the beginning. Accepting letters, maps, plans and formations that guided the Sunshot campaign since its conception. He wants to take the knowledge, roll it into a tube, and beat Chifeng-zun bloody with it.
But behind him, Xichen is crying his soul out onto the floor.
Huoyao turns to him and wraps his arm around his waist. "I'm sorry," he says. Huoyao isn't sorry, but Meng Yao is, and he asked him to pass on the message. "I really am."
Chifeng-zun is staggering to his feet. "You'd both best watch your backs," he snarls viciously. "Someday I'll put a knife in them."
Huoyao tuts. Since when did this man think knives were appropriate weapons? Or that stabbing in the back is acceptable? He seems to recall him saying the only proper way to kill someone and get revenge was face-to-face combat with swords or sabers. Knives were for weak people, like Meng Yao.
"If thinking that will make you feel better, Chifeng-zun, please go ahead." Huoyao guides Xichen out of the cell, and shuts the barred door behind him. "Try to get some rest. Tomorrow will not be easy."
Tomorrow he will be fucked within an inch of his life. Obviously he's struck some kind of deal to protect the fake Huaisang, so at least he won't have to worry about Nie Mingjue being forced to have sex with his brother for the emperor's amusement, or something like that. Probably not. Hopefully not.
Daiyu, do you know anything about what exactly the deal Nie Mingjue struck with Wen Ruohan is?
No, she responds. I will see Tieyun and Ziran later tonight when our posts change and I will ask.
Huoyao takes his betrothed back to their room, half carrying him, and helps him out of his heavy outer robes. He unties Xichen's already messy hair, several strands pulled from the formerly neat topknot by the rapid removal of his ribbon earlier. He asks a servant to bring them a warm bath, and he washes Xichen's hair and cleans his skin.
"They've left me," he murmurs, eyes glazed while Huoyao combs his hair out. "I don't know what I could have done differently. I had no way to communicate with Unc--" he cuts himself off with a hitching, hiccuping sob. "I had no way to communicate with anyone in Cloud Recess… should I have just let Wen Ruohan finish destroying Gusu? Would that have been right?"
Finally, he lets Meng Yao spill out. He nuzzles his face into Xichen's wet hair. "You did what was right, A-Huan. If it was good and just of me to come to Qishan as I did, and sacrifice what I did, then it was every bit as good and just of you to sacrifice your own pride and position as sect leader to protect all of Gusu." His hands are shaking, but he helps Xichen redress in his sleeping robe. "You said it yourself, if this is what you must bear for the sect…"
Slowly he nods. His eyes are clouded and tired. "Is this what it's always been like for you, A-Yao?" He whispers as they sit down on the bed. "Thrown away by your family, with no one to stand up for you?" His hands are cold on Meng Yao's jaw. "I used to have something… I used to be something, and now…"
Meng Yao wraps both his hands around Xichen's wrists. "You do not have nothing," he says, and the fierceness in his own voice surprises him. "So long as I am alive you have everything I do, and everything I can give you."
Another tear rolls down Xichen's cheek, and Meng Yao kisses it away.
"There is no reason for your father to let me marry you now," he says hoarsely. "I have nothing to offer. No ties to the Lan sect. No riches. No land. No sect leader title."
Meng Yao shushes him. He presses their foreheads together. "You are still Zewu-jun. You are still a war hero. You are still the number-one ranking young master of our generation, both in beauty and in cultivational power. You are still a powerful warrior, still a renowned musician. And you are still the man I love." He squeezes Xichen's wrists again. "All of that without the Lan. You don't need them to be everything to me. You will be my husband. I will protect you, always. Do you understand me, A-Huan?"
Xichen's soft teary eyes meet his. "I understand," he whispers. He leans forward and kisses him. "Thank you, A-Yao."
Chapter 16: I know it won't be possible without the tiger seal
Summary:
The day after the victory banquet, everything is dragging by in a slow haze. Meng Yao manages to move things forward, especially in regards to the plan to destroy Wen Ruohan. Until his most major weakness rears its head.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Xichen sleeps poorly and fitfully that night. Meng Yao offers to go to the healers for a sleeping draught, but his betrothed tells him not to bother them so late. When the sun finally comes up, Xichen has slept perhaps two hours in fits and bursts, while Meng Yao has not slept at all.
Meng Yao, however, is used to functioning with little to no sleep. Xichen is not.
"Shhhh, it's alright," he says, pushing Xichen to lay back down as sunlight begins to leak around the curtains. "Do you think you could maybe sleep another hour or two?"
"'S morning," Xichen slurs, eyes stubbornly open despite how foggy they are. "I need. I need to get up. The rules… I cannot stay in bed past five. I need the rules."
Meng Yao swallows a quip about how he has no reason to follow the Lan rules anymore. After being abandoned by his family, Xichen has even more need to stick to them, now.
"Alright," he concedes. "Alright. But I will stay with you all day."
"You… have things to do," Xichen protests halfheartedly.
"None of them are urgent." He pets at his beautiful hair, tangled and messy from his disturbed night. Meng Yao stands up, and offers Xichen his hand. As much as he would prefer to just push him back into the bed and lay over him like a blanket, which was the one thing that seemed to help him calm down last night, going back to sleep now will only hurt Xichen more in the long run. Right now he needs routine, he needs a semblance of normalcy.
Slowly, Xichen takes his hand and allows Meng Yao to tug him to his feet. "Here is what we will do today," Meng Yao says, firm and certain even though he really isn't. "First, I am going to call for a bath, and we are going to get cleaned up. I am going to do your hair, and you are welcome to do mine if you would like. We will both get dressed and we will take breakfast here in our rooms. After we are finished, I will send a message to my father asking to have Wanyin attend to us today. I doubt he will deny me. Then the three of us, and Daiyu, will go to visit miss Jiang, and perhaps we will summon Wen Qing and her brother if they have the time. And we will make a new plan."
Xichen is more like Meng Yao than he realized. Having a clear path forward, one with steps that are neatly in order, settles him.
"We will stay with miss Jiang until after lunch. Then we will return to our rooms. If you feel you can nap, then we will nap. If not, I have my old weiqi board, and I'm sure Wanyin can play, or we could sit in the garden or take a walk. When dinner time comes, if my father asks us to join him, we will, whereupon I will demand reassurances from my father that our betrothal is still going forward as planned. If we are not invited to dine with him, I will invite Caihong to join us here and make my demands pertaining to our betrothal via messenger." He spreads his hands out. "Does that sound good to you, A-Huan?"
Slowly he nods. There's no more panic or borderline mania in his eyes anymore, which is good. Xichen can get through this. He will. Meng Yao won't allow it to be otherwise.
The servants bring the bath, and Meng Yao thanks them for doing so at such an odd hour and slips them each a piece of silver. He makes sure Xichen sees that, especially the happy glint in their eyes that makes being roused for menial labor first thing in the morning worth it.
"Would you prefer to bathe together, or separately?"
He seems to deflate with his slow exhale. "Together," he says after a beat of thought. "I do not want to be alone."
They undress each other with slow, careful reverence. Xichen steps into the warm water first, sighing as he sits. Meng Yao settles in his lap, curling against his chest. The basin is plenty large enough for the two of them, but they both want to be close.
"A-Yao," Xichen murmurs, nose buried in Meng Yao's damp hair and arms around his waist. "Thank you."
Meng Yao kisses his shoulder. The warmth of the water has them both more relaxed. "You never need thank me for taking care of you, or for protecting you. Regardless, though, you are welcome, my love."
The kiss they share is soft and chaste, but no less intimate.
"May I wash your hair?" Xichen whispers against his mouth.
"Of course."
Xichen combs the soap through his hair with a lacquered wooden comb, and then pours water over his head with cupped hands.
Meng Yao hums happily, closing his eyes. "That feels nice."
Fingers massage his scalp, soft and warm. "You have beautiful hair, my love." He kisses the back of his head.
"Mmm. Turn around and let me wash yours."
Xichen's hair is long and thick. It takes Meng Yao much longer than he expected to card through it all and make sure each section is thoroughly washed. It's very soothing, though, the soap, massage, rinse, repeat. By the time he's finished, Xichen's eyes are closed and the stress crumpling his forehead is smoothed out.
They dispel the heating talisman on the side of the tub, and get out. He helps Xichen get dried and dressed, and carefully pulls his hair into a simple topknot with no guan. His betrothed does his hair with surprisingly steady hands, putting Meng Yao's small gold guan in with a few pins.
When a servant brings them breakfast, Meng Yao hands her a letter for the emperor and asks that it be delivered as soon as possible. She bows and promises it will happen within the hour.
Thirty minutes later, Wanyin arrives, escorted to their rooms by Xing Longwei, the Wen head disciple and second ranked member of Wen Ruohan's guard after Wen Fuhe.
"My prince," he says, bowing. "Your father wanted very much to deliver him himself, but unfortunately he has much business to attend to today. If there is anything you need, please send for me at once."
Meng Yao nods. "Thank you, Longwei. You're dismissed."
As soon as they're alone, Meng Yao hands Wanyin his paper, woodblock, and writing stick, so he can confirm what they both already know.
Nie Mingjue has been added to the harem. The fake Huaisang is already on the way back to Qinghe.
Xichen closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and nods. "That is better than I expected. If Wen Ruohan is not keeping the fake Huaisang, it cannot be used to torment Mingjue-xiong anymore."
They eat quickly and in silence, and leave for Miss Jiang's cottage within fifteen minutes.
I saw him-- Nie Mingjue-- briefly this morning, Wanyin writes as they stroll outside the palace walls. He looked very upset, but uninjured.
Xichen closes his eyes. "Do you think the emperor will be harsh with him?"
Wanyin makes a face. He looks to Meng Yao, then to Xichen, then back.
I don't know.
Judging by his expression, Meng Yao is fairly sure Wanyin does know. He just doesn't want to confirm A-Huan's suspicions that Wen Ruohan will be hurting his oldest and dearest friend, may well be doing it right now.
I'll get to spend time with him, Wanyin adds. I had plenty of time alone with the fake Huaisang, and Jin Zixuan. Sometimes the emperor prefers to just watch us play with each other, if he's tired.
Xichen looks shocked. "Wait, you've been with Jin Zixuan and the… well, Huaisang, sexually?"
He nods. Is that really so surprising, Zewu-jun?
Blinking like the sun is suddenly too bright, Xichen sighs. "I suppose not. But I had hoped you… would be spared at least some things."
To his surprise, Wanyin makes a little snort. There are a lot of things I am spared. He doesn't hit me. He doesn't choke me or cut me or whip me or beat me. He always uses oil and prepares me. He only tied me up once, the very first time. He doesn't even speak cruelly to me. Out of all his concubines I am certainly the best treated.
"It's because you cooperate," Xichen theorizes.
Meng Yao shakes his head. "My father has a soft spot for you, Wanyin."
That he does, it's plain to see. Meng Yao should probably look into that more. He will. Jiang Wanyin is one of his, Meng Yao will keep him safe.
They've arrived at Miss Jiang's cottage. Meng Yao knocks on the door.
"Ah, good morning," she says, ushering them inside. "A-Qing is here, I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all." Meng Yao bows to the healer when he sees her, sitting at the table. She's writing something, and Meng Yao manages to spot the words experiment successful before she sweeps the papers to the side.
"My prince. Zewu-jun. Guardsman Shi. Young master Jiang. It's good to see you."
"Likewise," Xichen says. "What are you working on?"
"A-Qing is helping me get better at channelling resentful energy," Miss Jiang says. "I can hear Wen Ruohan's corpse army better and better every day. With her help, I'm not even doing any damage to my meridians or my core."
Xichen raises an eyebrow. "You hope to be able to take control of the fierce corpses, is that it?"
"I know it won't be possible without the tiger seal." Miss Jiang taps her fingers on the table. "Your majesty, do you think there is a way for us to get our hands on it?"
Slowly, he sits down next to Wen Qing. "Wen Ruohan will absolutely notice that it's gone, and someone will have to take the blame."
Xichen plops down next to him. His eyes are brighter. This is good, making plans and moving forward will help keep him from hyper focusing on what happened to him yesterday. Or on whatever is happening to Nie Mingjue right now.
"A scapegoat, you mean?" He steeples his fingers. "Hm. We can't have it be someone from Qinghe or Gusu, or Yunmeng. The risk to innocent people is too high."
Meng Yao turns the thought over in his mind. This is worth pursuing. If Jiang Yanli can take control of even just a small portion of Wen Ruohan's corpse army, they'll stand a chance if they have to do an all-out frontal assault. Even better, with a corpse army of their own, once Wen Ruohan is taken care of, it will be easier to root out any old loyalists.
"We can pin it on Xue Yang," Meng Yao says.
Everyone turns to look at him. "I often forget he's even here," Xichen admits softly.
"My father mostly lets him do whatever he wants, which is screw around with the fierce corpses and the yin iron, and do unspeakable things to poor Daozhang Xiao behind closed doors." Meng Yao sighs. "If we do successfully manage to frame Xue Yang, either we will need to deal with him, or my father will."
"We will be infinitely kinder than Wen Ruohan," Wen Qing says. "And it would make more sense for Xue Yang to flee with the seal and his concubine, no? For them to both disappear?"
"I agree," Miss Jiang says. "Should we kill him? Xue Yang, I mean, not Daozhang Xiao. I think that he'll be able to take care of himself once freed, and avoid being recaptured."
Xichen, Wen Qing, and Jiang Yanli discuss this, but Meng Yao already knows what they'll need to do. Their line of reasoning will end with someone, most likely Meng Yao, killing Xue Yang and bringing his corpse to Wen Ruohan, with a story about how he was attempting to flee with the tiger seal. But, then there will be no reason for Meng Yao to not return the seal to his father after slaying Xue Yang. The line of reasoning his allies are pursuing will get them nowhere.
He has a different plan. Xue Yang isn't stupid, but he does have two weaknesses. Power, and Daozhang Xiao Xingchen. If he smuggled the tiger seal out to a safe location, then returned to get Xiao Xingchen and flee, Meng Yao could catch him then. Plausibly, the tiger seal wouldn't be on him, so they could keep it and use it for their own purposes. And Meng Yao could kill Xue Yang on the spot, but Wen Ruohan wouldn't like that. And it wouldn't fit with the persona that Meng Yao has crafted to show to the emperor. Wen Huoyao would do everything he could to hand Xue Yang over to his father alive.
But he can set this up. He can already feel it slotting into place, one step after another.
- Stir up Xue Yang's interest in the tiger seal, specifically and distinctly from the three pieces of yin iron.
- Make him mention it in public, in front of Wen Ruohan and in front of his personal guardsmen.
- Plant a few different manuscripts and experiments in the delinquent's personal rooms, Xue Yang's abysmal handwriting is easy to replicate. If Meng Yao can get him interested enough, perhaps he'll even make a few himself.
- Sneak out the tiger seal and find a place to hide it, until Wen Ruohan notices that it's missing. Once he does, all of Nightless City will be on high alert. They'll have to be careful to act completely above suspicion during this time.
- Find a reason for Xue Yang to attempt, or be perceived as attempting, to leave the city with Xiao Xingchen.
- Bring a few of the people the emperor trusts and catch him. Xue Yang is a known liar and thief, and if the evidence he plants is convincing enough, it should override all of Xue Yang's protests. Once the culprit is caught, there will be no suspicion cast on Meng Yao and his allies. Especially if Meng Yao delivers Xue Yang personally.
The only problem is that they will not be able to get Daozhang Xiao out of Nightless City. And he doubts that there will be time to switch him with a duplicate, since he is always either locked in in Xue Yang's rooms or directly at the delinquent's side.
Meng Yao fills his allies in on this idea. None of them like the thought of not being able to free Xiao Xingchen, but they agree with all his other points.
"We can't save everyone," Meng Yao finishes.
"After Xue Yang is… imprisoned, since I assume he will have no quick death, what do you think the emperor will do with Xiao Xingchen?" Miss Jiang asks.
Meng Yao shrugs. "I honestly do not know. I doubt my father would be willing to just let him go, though I could certainly try that angle. If that fails I could perhaps prod him into making him a ward, much like you, Miss Jiang."
Wanyin nudges him. Is there a chance he would want to add Xiao Xingchen to the harem?
"I'm not sure. You would probably know better than I if he's interested in expanding."
He mulls over this thought for a few minutes, spinning his writing stick. He has said that he does not want a large harem. But I am unsure what his definition of 'large' is.
"I think we can table this discussion until the plan has progressed further," Wen Qing proposes.
Nodding, Meng Yao agrees. "Given time, we can find the answers to these questions."
~*~
Wen Ruohan does, in fact, invite Meng Yao and Xichen to join him for dinner. They are eating on the balcony outside of the emperor's private rooms, in the fresh air. Meng Yao has never been here before, but he has seen this balcony from the outside. He had no idea that it was attached to a set of private chambers. It is a beautiful balcony, penned by warding talismans and a beautifully carved railing, with a very fine view. Scented candles burn to ward away insects. A curtain hangs over the door to the sitting room, and is open.
There is no sign of any of the concubines. Wanyin returned to Wen Ruohan not long after they left miss Jiang's cottage. He said they spent most of their time in the four loosely connected rooms that made up the emperor's bedroom. He also said he would try to reassure Nie Mingjue, try to comfort him and make sure he is alright, so he can give a report the next time Meng Yao and Xichen get to see him. Meng Yao doubts Nie Mingjue himself will be allowed out of the rooms, and unlike Wanyin, Meng Yao has no reason to request time with him.
Joining them for dinner are Wen Fuhe and Xing Longwei, who, as long-time friends and trusted confidants of the emperor, often eat with him. Wang Ziran, the third ranked member of his personal guard and another long-time friend, was apparently also invited, but is busy this evening. Chu Bingwen and Wen Qisen are on guard duty tonight, but they stay inside the sitting room, talking quietly. It seems they have plenty of faith in the wards around the balcony. Then again, Wen Fuhe and Xing Longwei are both with him, and even on his own, Wen Ruohan is hardly defenseless.
Xichen and Meng Yao are the last to arrive, but there is no food set out on the table yet, so at least they aren't late. Wen Ruohan waves for them to sit down, smiling. Meng Yao is ushered into the seat at the emperor's right, with Xichen beside him. The cushions are soft, and comfortable. As he sits, he prods one of the wards gently, and understands why the two guards are protecting the sitting room. It truly is the weaker spot, these wards feel like they'd stand against a heavenly army.
"Every day I see you dressed in Wen garb, I become overcome with joy all over again," Wen Ruohan says in lieu of a greeting. "Red suits you, my son." His smile is bright, and genuine enough to disarm him. He really is happy to have Meng Yao as his own. Truly, completely happy.
"Th-thank you, a-die," he says, unable to keep his surprise out of his voice. "I... I still sometimes think I might be dreaming." He looks down at his hands. They're shaking. Why are they shaking? He plants them on the table and forces them still.
"It will feel more real as time goes on," the emperor says.
"We will just have to keep reminding you that this is where you belong, which is no hardship," Xing Longwei adds. "You are a capable young man who is a major help to the Wen, a valuable asset and a joy to know."
Meng Yao bites his cheek, because he can't pinch himself without the action being seen. People don't praise him, not like that, not if they aren't Xichen, at least. The first few points he can perhaps believe, he knows that he is capable and an asset, but that last one... Him, a joy to know? Really?
Longwei sighs. "I see it will take some time, still. That is alright. You've had many reasons in the past to be suspicious of kindness."
Meng Yao's head snaps up. His face must be slipping. How else could the man see his distrust? He barely stops himself from reaching up to poke at his own face.
"It is as Longwei said. Given time, you'll understand, Huoyao," Fuhe chimes in. "We are all willing to wait."
Willing to wait.
Nie Mingjue was not willing to wait for Meng Yao's trust. Chifeng-zun criticized his suspicious nature, was deeply offended by how long it took Meng Yao to thaw to him.
Perhaps he's a fool. He's still plotting to kill these people, people who may well mean what they say. People who might actually want to be his family.
What does that say about him, that the only people who genuinely want him are such horrendous criminals? Wen Fuhe slaughtered villages without batting an eye during the war, villages who had done nothing but side against the Wen, even though they had no warriors or cultivators. He's not sure about Xing Longwei beyond that he remained in Nightless City as defense for the Fire Palace during the war and fought only in the final battle on the steps, but being so close with the emperor, he can't be much better. And Wen Ruohan himself-- well, he's Wen Ruohan. An egotistical maniac bent on world domination, known across the land for his violence and greed and volatility.
But not with Meng Yao. With Meng Yao he's... almost a perfect father, directly out of the dreams he's been having since he was old enough to know what a father was, and that he would have to fight tooth and nail for one while others were simply given a father by virtue of being born.
The conversation has moved on while he was lost in thought, and now Wen Ruohan is looking at Xichen.
"Zewu-jun," he says. "How have you been since yesterday?"
Xichen looks down into his lap. "I have been alright, your excellency."
Wen Ruohan snorts. "I think not. You do not need to lie to me. You were mistreated heinously yesterday. I cannot believe you are not still feeling the effects."
Meng Yao covers Xichen's hand with his own. I'll handle this.
Thank you.
"We were both very shaken by Grandmaster Lan's actions," Meng Yao admits. "A-Huan became a bit frightened that you would no longer allow him to marry me, after being disowned by the Lan."
Xichen's hand is trembling.
The emperor raises his eyebrows. Meng Yao did not expect him to be so surprised Xichen would come to this conclusion, nor so blatantly offended.
"Perish the thought!" He blinks a few times at Xichen. "You truly were concerned about something so ridiculous?"
Looking down at his hands, Xichen nods.
"Oh dear. Perhaps Huoyao is not the only one who will need time to feel secure again," Fuhe says, voice unusually gentle.
Xichem swallows, and Meng Yao takes his hand and laces their fingers together. It's okay. I'm here. All will be well.
"I have lost everything," he whispers.
"Lan Qiren is a fool," Longwei spits. "Forgive me for speaking so plainly, Zewu-jun, but I always did think he saw himself as the Lan sect leader rather than you. He was so prone to talking over you, or publicly contradicting you, that it was obvious he did not respect your position."
Xichen lets out a bark of sardonic laughter that even startles Meng Yao. "I knew he would not be pleased to hear me step down, since Wangji was always much less inclined to listen to his suggestions than I was, and Wangji is next in line. I knew he might try to punish me for it. I knew what I was doing, there is no reason for me to be surprised."
Meng Yao puts his other hand over Xichen's. "It was still out of line. You did not betray the Lan, you protected them."
Wen Ruohan shrugs. "Who can guess as to what goes on in the Grandmaster's mind?" He waves in the servants, and they come to pour tea and wine. The food likely is not quite ready yet, he surmises. Either that, or the emperor has something important he wants to say before they eat. "But I am not so short-sighted, nor foolish enough to throw you away. Yao'er still wishes to wed you, yes?"
Meng Yao nods hard enough to make his neck ache for a moment. "I do. I want that more than anything else in the world." He places a kiss on Xichen's knuckles, which bleeds some of the tension out of him.
His father smiles, warm and indulgent and open. "Well then, you see? I would approve the marriage even if you were a farmer with no golden core, so long as he loves you and you him." He closes his eyes briefly. "I learned my lesson with making my children wed anyone but those they love with Chao'er."
Meng Yao hasn't heard this story before, not from Wen Ruohan, but he's heard the rumors and the assumptions. Wen Chao was miserable in his forced marriage to the daughter of a minor sect that Wen Ruohan favored, so miserable that he would cheat at any and every given opportunity.
"It is reassuring to hear your thoughts on this," Xichen says, eyes flickering from the emperor to Meng Yao to his lap. "I have very little to offer, now, I am aware of that."
Wen Ruohan puts down his cup of tea delicately. "Ah. I see. The number-one ranked cultivator of his generation thinks he is nothing without his family." He smiles wryly. "You are not without family. When one door closes, another opens. You will be wed, I have already set the date for the ceremony and begun putting things in order. It will happen in two weeks, if that is agreeable to you, my son."
Warmth rushes up from his stomach, happy tingling butterflies are going to spill out of his mouth any second. There's a marriage date. It's set. He's going to marry the man he loves.
"That sounds very good to me, a-die. Thank you." His voice comes out little and soft, softer than he intended.
Wen Ruohan smiles and pats his head, and Meng Yao melts. His whole body tingles, his muscles turn slow and warm and gelatinous.
Is the top of his head just kind of… bizarre non-sexual erogenous zone, that any and all gentle touches to it make him feel like he's made entirely of mist and light? He can't pull himself out of the feeling enough to be angry about it, though, because fuck it feels good. Is this parental love? He hasn't felt like this since Meng Shi died.
"One more thing, Zewu-jun." It's Wen Fuhe who speaks up, this time. "Han-ge and I have been discussing this at length-- it is why we convened a bit early this evening, before you and Huoyao arrived-- and we have decided that, since you are to be my nephew's husband, and therefore the husband of the next emperor, it is prudent of us to rectify the fact that you've been stripped of a surname."
Meng Yao instantly snaps out of the happy haze that he apparently can be drawn into with head pats. Are they going to try and force Lan Qiren into overturning his decision? No, if they were, they would have led with that.
"You will soon be a Wen by marriage, I see no reason not to officially give you the name now," Ruohan says. He gestures to someone behind Meng Yao, which turns out to be Bingwen. He walks up to the table and hands the emperor a bound cloth bundle. He opens it, and sets down a shining sword and a jade white xiao on the table in front of Xichen. "Welcome to the family, Wen Huan."
Notes:
Dun dun dun!
Also I'm thinking I maybe should have named this Daddy Issues: the fic instead of Jade and Fire.
What's happening with WRH and NMJ? Click here to find out, assuming you're in the mood for bad things. And, if you want more of the daily lives of the harem, click here for another extra which spans a bit of the time between this chapter and the next.
Chapter 17: Swearing to him is easy, bowing to him is easy. It almost feels redundant, at this point
Summary:
The wedding of crown prince Wen Huoyao and Wen Xichen, a day written about in every decent collection of romance stories.
Notes:
Long chapter is long. But we are celebrating Xiyao's wedding AND pride month so enjoy 💜🌈
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
On the morning of their wedding day, Xichen and Meng Yao are separated right after breakfast by a horde of attendants and servants. The short list of people Meng Yao considers friends and was willing to tell his father about are brought along. To his relief, Daiyu goes with Xichen, as does Wen Qing. He won't be all by himself with Wen Fuhe, who seems to have put himself in charge of Xichen's side of the marriage, since he has no family to help him get ready.
Wen Ruohan leads six servants and Wen Caihong in helping Meng Yao prepare.
"I had hoped we would have found Madam Sisi by now," Wen Ruohan muses as he hands a hairbrush with ruby inlays to the woman about to begin brushing his hair. It won't be styled until later, not until after his wedding robes are on, but it needs to be brushed nonetheless. "To have someone from your mother's side present for your wedding. But we will keep searching, I promise."
There's been no sign of Sisi anywhere in Yunping, or the surrounding area. She left the services of the brothel Meng Yao grew up in sometime during the war, for unclear reasons, and no one has been able to find out where she went after that.
"Thank you, a-die," he murmurs. "I just pray she's still alive."
Wen Ruohan promises again that they will not stop searching until they have an answer, and then passes Meng Yao the folded red stack of fabric he knows are his wedding robes.
"Call if you require aid," one of the younger servant girls says brightly as he vanishes behind the privacy screen.
Meng Yao's wedding robes are heavy, but comfortable. His inner robe is pure white, which surprises him. The silk is thin, and comfortable, very finely made. It's nearly sheer, actually, and he briefly wonders if this is supposed to be a present for after the ceremony. A much less scandalous robe goes over that one, slightly thicker and a rich maroon in color.
The outer robe might be the most elaborate garment he's ever laid eyes on. The chest is embroidered with two golden phoenixes. Their feathers twine around his waist, around his shoulders, and all the way down his arms.
Once the inner robes are in place and closed over his pants, and the outer robe draped over his shoulders, he steps out from behind the screen. Instantly, he's swarmed by servants, straightening out his sleeves and collars, wrapping belt after belt around his waist.
Are they putting a veil on you, A-Yao? Xichen writes in the matrix. This is the first time they've spoken to each other since breakfast.
I don't see one. He's wearing a guan, he knows that much, but that alone doesn't rule out a veil. He still doesn't see anything resembling such an article of clothing, but there is so much red fabric in here he cannot be sure. Are you wearing one?
No. Wen Fuhe has said to me many times that I am not to play a bride.
Meng Yao smiles to himself, obediently lifting his arms. Neither of us are brides. And not all brides even wear veils.
I think he is trying to make me feel more at home. One of my attendants referred to me as a war bride, and Wen Fuhe didn't execute her on the spot only because I asked him not to. It is… disconcertingly sweet.
Meng Yao swallows a lump in his throat. You don't feel like a war bride, do you?
No. A feeling of affection suffuses the matrix. I feel like a very fortunate groom.
Good. Meng Yao smiles.
"You seem lost in thought," Wen Ruohan says, coming to stand in front of him. His face is soft and indulgent, though. "Thinking about your soon-to-be husband?"
Meng Yao blushes and ducks his head, which causes the servant fiddling with making sure his three collars are layered appropriately to hiss in quiet annoyance. "He is always on my mind."
"So wonderful to see young love," the old woman who sets herself to straightening out Meng Yao's many-layered belt says. "I have not attended such a happy wedding since our exalted emperor's, so long ago."
Meng Yao blinks at her. "You… must have served in Nightless City for a very long time."
She nods. "I was sixteen when the emperor married his wife, and very new to this place."
It occurs to Meng Yao that he doesn't really know how old Wen Ruohan is. This woman obviously is not a cultivator, and judging by her appearance, she is probably in her sixties. If she was sixteen when Wen Ruohan was married…
He has to let the train of thought go. Meng Yao can find out how old Wen Ruohan is if he really needs to. Right now, though, he has other things to focus on.
At last, his robes are apparently to the servant's satisfaction, and Wen Ruohan's as well. He's guided to take a seat in a tall chair so that another servant can start on his hair. The guan that his father has asked him to wear is in the shape of a dragon, coiled around a flame set with rubies. It's not particularly large, which he appreciates, and doesn't look heavy either. The hairstyle is elaborate, and takes nearly an hour to complete. Meng Yao spends this time meditating, like he is expected to, but not only on his soon-to-be husband.
This is a step in the right direction, for the most part. The upcoming ceremony, however, won't be easy. For a celebration of such magnitude as the wedding of the emperor's son, nearly half the cultivation world will be present. Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji are the most nerve-wracking guests, at least for A-Huan. Meng Yao is incredibly curious as to how the Grandmaster and Hanguang-jun will react when they learn that Xichen has been given the Wen surname.
The emperor's entire harem will also be there. Wanyin, at Meng Yao's request, attends as a friend of the grooms rather than a concubine, something they both are extremely grateful for. But there is nothing he and Xichen can do to help Jin Zixuan, or Lan Guangjuan, the woman sent by the Lan to be the emperor's only female concubine, or Nie Mingjue.
Nie Mingjue. Concubine of the emperor.
Meng Yao hasn't seen him since the night of that fateful victory banquet. It's been two weeks, and Nie Mingjue has been under careful lock and key in his father's rooms this entire time. Every time Meng Yao asked after Chifeng-zun, Wen Ruohan brushed him off. He is deliberately hiding Nie Mingjue, possibly from the world but more likely from Meng Yao alone.
That man has done enough to you, Wen Ruohan had said to him. He expects Meng Yao to forget about Chifeng-zun. To stop caring for him. If it weren't for A-Huan's fretting over his friend, he may well have done just that. But Xichen loves Nie Mingjue. So Meng Yao cannot forget about him, or be indifferent to him.
Half an eternity later, he is deemed ready to be wed. His face has been painted, he's decked out in the most beautiful outfit he's ever imagined, and his father leads him out of the room and into the banquet hall.
It feels like a dream come true, when he puts it like that. He's being escorted to the altar by his father, who loves him and appreciates him, to soon marry the man he loves, the man who happens to also be the number-one most beautiful and powerful cultivator of their generation, who happens to love him in return.
At least not everything is a lie. His affection for A-Huan is real. Only in the thick of his worst nightmares does Meng Yao believe A-Huan's love for him is fake. They have that, if nothing else.
Lan Qiren is glowering at Meng Yao when he walks past. His fiery fury is offset by the incandescent and icy rage radiating off of Lan Wangji.
"Now presenting his majesty, crown Prince Wen Huoyao!" Daiyu announces.
Everyone bows. Even Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji.
Meng Yao goes to wait at the dais where they will take their bows. His father sits in a large, ornate chair not quite like his throne, but still not an ordinary seat by any measure, to the side of the dais. Wen Fuhe will soon sit beside him on a slightly less imposing chair. Meng Shi's plaque is by his side, elevated on a dark wooden table. His heart flutters when he looks at it, knowing his mother is here to see him be wed.
Jin Zixuan, Nie Mingjue, and Lan Guangjuan all sit on the floor by the emperor's feet, which is significantly less exciting. Jin Zixuan is not bound, but the other two are, wrists to ankles as usual. Meng Yao sends a brief thanks to whatever gods or other beings that look down on him that all three of them are clothed.
Nie Mingjue is staring at him. That's not unusual, nearly everyone in the large room is staring at him. But he doesn't look nearly as furious as Meng Yao expected him to. He looks half angry and half… curious, perhaps.
At the far end of the hall, Xichen appears, escorted by Wen Fuhe. Meng Yao's uncle has taken to fulfilling the role of Xichen's absent family with surprising eagerness.
Meng Yao fixates his gaze on the Lan. There is no chance in hell he would miss this.
"Now introducing the betrothed of our beloved crown prince, Wen Xichen!"
A movement like a ripple courses through the group of the fourteen Lan who are attending. It starts with Lan Wangji, actually, as some kind of physical recoil. His usually blank face contorts, lips curling, eyes going huge with sheer horror. It passes out of him and into Lan Qiren, who shudders visibly and turns slightly green, and then into the rest of their group.
Wen Fuhe puts himself between Xichen and the Lan as he escorts him to the dais. "Don't look at them," he reads off his uncle's lips as they pass.
Xichen looks for just a brief second, and then tears his eyes away.
Are you alright?
They reach the dais, and Xichen smiles. I'm alright. Mostly trying not to think about it.
Meng Yao looks him over, finally, and feels slightly faint. His betrothed is gorgeous. The sleeves are those tighter style ones, the ones that emphasize the breadth of his shoulders and strength of his arms. Two face framing tendrils of hair escape to hang by his cheeks, the rest swept cleanly back into a topknot decorated by braids. His guan depicts two entwined phoenix, wrought in brilliant gold.
Meng Yao licks his dry lips. "You are so beautiful," he murmurs, taking Xichen's hands. His betrothed squeezes them gently.
"The bows will now commence!" Daiyu barks.
Xichen and Meng Yao sink to their knees.
"To heaven and earth!"
They bow. This one is easy.
"To the family!"
The two of them turn to face Wen Ruohan, who smiles. Behind them, he hears Lan Qiren sputter quietly. He's not sure if the vicious stab he feels in his gut is vindication or misery.
Regardless, Lan Qiren gave up the right to participate in this ceremony. They bow, and the smug feeling of victorious glee around Wen Ruohan is palpable.
The hard part is over, A-Huan writes. He gives Meng Yao a small smile as they straighten out of their bows.
"To one another!"
He's right, this bow is the easiest. Meng Yao may not care much for heaven and earth, and only slightly more for his supposed family, but the entirety of his existence is bent on Xichen, and his safety and happiness. Swearing to him is easy, bowing to him is easy. It almost feels redundant, at this point.
But he bows nonetheless, and as they come back up, he catches A-Huan's eyes and his heart flutters.
"The union is official," Daiyu calls, her clear and powerful voice ringing out. "Wen Huoyao and Wen Xichen are wed in the eyes of all the world!"
Meng Yao gathers Xichen into a kiss, which is eagerly reciprocated.
How long do we need to stay?
Wen tradition dictates we retire earlier than everyone else, actually. We are to stay only long enough to accept gifts from our most major allies-- though they're subjects, I suppose, and to share a cup of wine, which my father agreed to replace with a cup of sacred cinnamon tea instead.
Xichen's eyes soften. Thank you for that, A-Yao. I truly appreciate it.
They take their seats at a table spread out in front of the dais by servants. Wen Ruohan sits at the head, with Fuhe on his right and Meng Yao his left. Xichen sits at Meng Yao's side. The harem is left to languish by the chairs they'd sat by for the ceremony, but Meng Shi's plaque is moved to the spot of honor at Wen Ruohan's left, between him and Meng Yao.
"Here," Wen Ruohan says, taking a large ceramic cup from a servant and passing it to Meng Yao. "It is the tea we discussed."
Meng Yao sniffs it. The scent is sharp and heady, with rich undertones. "It smells very good," he observes. He offers the cup to Xichen, who takes a small drink without taking the cup from Meng Yao's hands.
"A bit spicier than I am used to," he says thoughtfully. "But it is also quite good." Covering Meng Yao's hands with his own, he brings the cup to his mouth. Meng Yao takes a drink.
The tea is phenomenal. Rich, hearty, with a faint undercurrent of cinnamon.
"Let me give you your gift, my son," Wen Ruohan says after they've both taken a long drink.
Meng Yao nods.
The emperor produces a small box. "It is Wen custom to gift a son with a new weapon on his wedding day," he explains, more for the benefit of their audience than Meng Yao. "The purpose is to supplement his primary spiritual weapon, to serve as a backup in the course of defending his family." He offers the box to Meng Yao.
It's much too small to be a sword, he notices that right away. Carefully Meng Yao places the box on the table and lifts the lid. Inside is a short, curved dagger about the length of his palm. It weighs very little in his hands, and when he slips the sheath down a few inches to see the blade, he feels spiritual energy pouring off it. In the flat of the metal, he sees his reflection-- but not. The him in the blade is different. A bright dot of vermillion rests between his eyebrows, and on his head is a black officer's cap.
"It is one of a set of two enchanted daggers," Wen Ruohan explains, but Meng Yao hardly hears him. He's too busy locking eyes with his reflection, dressed in Jin garb. "The Assassin's Dagger and the Seer's Dagger. The Assassin's Dagger is much too cursed to make a good everyday weapon, but this one, the Seer's Dagger, is more useful. Aside from being an enchanted blade with exceptional sharpness that bolsters the strength of the wielder's arm, it's said that looking into the flat of the blade can show a soul alternate paths they may have taken."
The golden, huadian-bearing Meng Yao in the blade blinks at him, out of sync with his own blinking.
A-Yao?
He sheathes the dagger, hiding his not-reflection. "Thank you, father," he says. "This is a far better option than my normal knife."
Wen Ruohan smiles. Meng Yao knows that he knows he saw something, but the emperor doesn't look unsettled or angry, just vaguely curious and slightly proud.
Meng Yao replaces it in the box, since there isn't really room for weapons anywhere on or in his wedding robes.
What did you see, A-Yao? Xichen asks in the matrix.
Meng Yao holds in a sigh. Myself in Jin robes, with a huadian.
Xichen looks vaguely startled.
I know. What an unlikely scenario that would be.
Before Xichen can reply, everyone's attention is drawn to the emperor again. "Now, everyone else may proceed with their wedding gifts for the couple," Wen Ruohan announces. "The Jin family of Lanling may be the first."
It isn't Jin Guangshan who bows and holds out the pretty lacquered box. Jin Guangshan isn't here, thankfully.
Wen Fuhe takes the box and opens it. Inside is an elaborate tea set, which looks to be carved out of red jade.
"How beautiful," his uncle muses. He places it on the table in front of Meng Yao and Xichen. "Is it to your liking?"
Meng Yao makes a bit of a show of examining the cups. They're all carved with scenes of dragons and phoenixes flying over raging forest fires. "Yes," he says after a moment. The matching tea pot is a bit gaudy, the design slightly too busy for Meng Yao's taste, but that doesn't really matter. He's more interested in the extremely faint, extremely odd energy signature the tea pot gives off. He would bet a significant amount of money that if he opened it, he would find evidence of an eavesdropping charm inside, probably painted on the inner walls. He only notices it because he's particularly attuned to spells of this exact variety.
There's some kind of listening charm on the teapot, he writes to Xichen.
Blinking, Xichen reaches out to touch the head of the carved dragon that wraps around the item, the tail making the handle by which the tea can be served. His brow twitches almost imperceptibly.
Oh, you're right. It's very subtle. He smiles at Meng Yao, looking every inch a besotted groom. You're amazing to have noticed it without touching.
A little bit of pride rears its head inside Meng Yao. I have a lot of experience with these kinds of talismans and charms.
The Jin official who brought the gift is dismissed, and scampers back to his seat.
What are we going to do about it? Xichen writes.
Well, I'm certainly not taking it into our rooms, Meng Yao writes.
Xichen hides his laugh in a cough.
Wen Ruohan, to Meng Yao's surprise, calls forth the Jiang next. Wanyin and Yanli approach side-by-side, heads held high.
"We have little to offer," Yanli says, "but I do hope his majesty will accept what humble gift my brother and I were able to procure." She bypasses Fuhe entirely, and he lets her, because his uncle is as stupid as every other person who thinks Jiang Yanli is a harmless girl with an empty head. Meng Yao is lucky to have her on his side.
He takes the cloth-wrapped package that she offers, and opens it. His breath catches.
"I learned to make clarity bells in my childhood," she says, smiling. "A-Cheng is also skilled in it, and his excellency was kind enough to allow my brother time and spiritual energy to work on these gifts for you and your husband, my prince."
Meng Yao carefully lifts one of the two clarity bells. It tinkles gently, the sound soothing and sweet. Both tassels are pure white, but the carvings differ. One has filigrees that resemble flames, their edges sharp and angular. The other is more rounded, like drifting clouds. He can guess which is intended for him and which is for Xichen.
"Miss Jiang, this is an incredibly thoughtful gift," he says, finally tearing his eyes away. "From you and from Wanyin. I am lucky to have you both as my friends, and allies." He means every word. It feels odd to speak something so blatantly true out loud, with a massive audience that includes Wen Ruohan. But this is a truth that he should know.
The siblings bow.
"Yes, we are fortunate to have such clever artisans in our empire," Wen Ruohan says. "I call next on the Nie."
Meng Yao is shocked when he sees Huaisang unfold himself from behind Zonghui. Has he been here the entire time? Meng Yao didn't see him, didn't see his name on the guest list…
This is the real Huaisang, the fake was destroyed upon returning to Qinghe. Keeping it around ran too much risk for it to be found.
The real Huaisang is here, in the flesh, to see Meng Yao's failure. His inability to protect Nie Mingjue despite all his efforts. Here to see his brother tied on his knees.
Huaisang also bypasses Fuhe to put his gift directly into Meng Yao's hands. His uncle allows this, but not without leering at Huaisang. "I almost forgot what you look like with robes on."
He resolutely ignores the man. Meng Yao is extremely proud.
"Some light reading, and potential research that may help the crown prince and his husband keep their marriage happy," Huaisang chirps. He doesn't look at his brother, or back at Zonghui and the rest of the Nie, or at Fuhe. He just looks at Meng Yao.
Of course Huaisang would give the couple porn on their wedding day.
But it's more than just porn. Meng Yao feels the communication matrix the instant his hand touches the bundle. The charm is in the cloth, not in the contents. That's… brilliant. If Fuhe had insisted on an inspection, it's highly unlikely that he'd check the wrapping at all.
Huaisang has given us a way to communicate with him while he's here, Meng Yao informs Xichen.
I hope he isn't doing too badly, Xichen fusses. He takes the bundle from Meng Yao and opens it, examining the covers of the books inside. His earlobes turn red, and Meng Yao bites off a laugh.
"Thank you, young master Nie," Meng Yao says respectfully.
The gift-giving goes on for quite a while. Xichen and Meng Yao share the cup of tea until it's empty. The Ouyang gift them with an ancient book of romantic poetry that Meng Yao is actually eager to read. The Yao bring a shining silver guan in the shape of several interlocking spirals, which Meng Yao would never wear in his life, but he imagines would look lovely on Xichen.
The Qin give a bag of seeds that apparently are from a kind of apple tree that grows in Laoling, which produces unusual and delicious golden apples. There is also a sapling of such a tree, about as tall as Meng Yao's hip, which he plans to have planted in the courtyard just outside his and Xichen's rooms, and another sack with a fresh harvest of the apples they can expect to see grow on the trees. Fuhe inspects everything, and is apparently satisfied, but he did seem to miss the eavesdropping spell on the teapot, so Meng Yao conducts his own investigation on each item he is expected to take back into his rooms.
Finally, the Lan are called. Lan Wangji stands up stiffly, and walks like he can't bend any of his joints. As he gets closer, the light catches oddly on his face.
Oh. He's crying. Hanguang-jun is crying and making no effort to hide it.
He bows once, as stiffly and inelegantly as he did everything else, and presents a small box. Fuhe snatches it out of his hands without giving him a moment to speak. "I see that Hanguang-jun is moved to tears by the happy couple," he says sharply. Without giving a chance for reply, he opens the box. "Ah, this is an unusual incense burner."
Lan Wangji says nothing.
It is extremely unusual. A creature with the head of an elephant, a bear's torso, the legs of a tiger, and an ox tail holds the incense burner in its stomach. Meng Yao has never seen anything remotely like it before.
"It is an old heirloom of the Lan sect," Lan Qiren says after several awkward beats of silence. "It is unique and strange, much like the crown prince himself."
The backhanded compliment is so unexpected that it takes a moment to register in Meng Yao's mind.
Wen Ruohan frowns, but doesn't say anything. That is strange. Meng Yao welcomes it, though. One less thing to worry about.
There are a few more gifts for them to receive. Wen Ning gives them a stunningly beautiful landscape painting, which he shyly admits he painted himself. Wen Qing hands over a stack of silencing talismans, saying dryly that she is not interested in overhearing the two of them in marital bliss. This confuses Meng Yao for a heartbeat, and then he is in awe of her brilliance. There is much less reason for anyone to question why Xichen and Meng Yao's rooms are so thoroughly papered in such talismans now, if they should be discovered.
So Meng Yao laughs and promises to put them to good use, shooting Xichen a heated look that his husband returns in equal fervor.
Gods, Xichen writes, A-Yao. I crave you. How much longer do we need to stay, again?
A quiet cough from Wen Fuhe distracts Meng Yao and Xichen from any further eye-fucking.
"This is my gift to you," he says, holding out a large package wrapped in beautifully embroidered linen. Inside is a qin, polished black body inlaid with small bits of gold and white jade. Even Meng Yao, a musical novice, can tell that this is a very fine quality instrument just from the look on Xichen's face.
"Thank you, uncle," Meng Yao says.
Fuhe smiles. "Wen Huan's playing is known throughout the world, and when I learned the only instrument he had in Nightless City was his xiao, I simply had to rectify that."
Xichen lays his hands on the strings, slowly testing the tension, or something like that. Meng Yao watched his mother play the qin, but the instrument belonged to the brothel and was too expensive and fragile for a clumsy child like him to be allowed to touch. The only instrument he ever learned to play was the pipa, and he gave it up long ago.
Is it any good? Meng Yao writes in the matrix.
It is on par with Wangji's qin, Xichen writes with awe in his eyes. It is new, unused, but this has the potential to be an extremely dangerous spiritual weapon.
Meng Yao's eyebrows twitch. Fuhe has been kind and indulgent toward Xichen since the Lan disowned him, but this... this must have been extremely expensive and difficult to acquire. None of that explains why Xichen looks flayed open right now. He's staring at the qin looking as if he's about to cry.
It is customary, when a son of the Lan marries with all blessings, to gift him a new musical instrument to him. Just not a spiritual one... He plucks a few notes.
It's a fusion, Meng Yao understands in a rush. A weapon and a musical instrument. No wonder Lan Qiren is glaring at Wen Fuhe with what looks like pure murderous intent. Judging by Fuhe's smug smirk back at him, he knew exactly the message he was sending with this gift. Meng Yao isn't sure if he wants to punch him or hug him.
"Is it to your liking, Zewu-jun?" Fuhe asks.
A single tear escapes Xichen's left eye. Meng Yao thumbs it away for him.
"Yes," he manages. "It is a beautiful instrument." He visibly pulls himself together. "Thank you. I will treat it well."
The qin vanishes into the qiankun bag that all their gifts have gone into. Meng Yao laces their hands together under the table, and squeezes. Xichen squeezes back.
Chu Bingwen gifts them a vial of thick black liquid, which he insists with a sugary smile is a spice and oil blend that pairs best with steamed fish. Meng Yao is positive it's actually refined nightshade, a substance that would kill him dead if he ingested it. Why does Wen Ruohan put up with this man? He is insufferable.
Seeing Meng Yao's hesitation, Xichen accepts the vial from him. Meng Yao's world narrows viciously, and he plucks the vial out of Xichen's hands to fling it at Chu Bingwen's feet. It shatters into a pile of oozing black liquid and broken glass.
"Your attempt on my husband's life has been noted," he snarls. He's certain that the guard never intended Xichen to be the one to take the vial, but the fact remains that someone handed his A-Huan a deadly poison and told him it was intended for consumption.
Chu Bingwen goes pale. "Ah… It was intended as a jest, my prince," he says thinly. "But I see it was in poor taste. I apologize." Quickly he produces the jade belt tassel that was apparently the real gift the whole time. Meng Yao has half a mind to shatter the damned thing on the floor right where he tossed the vial of poison, but mostly he just wants Chu Bingwen's turn to be over.
It was concentrated nightshade, he writes as he puts the tassel away, only after checking it over thoroughly. Not dangerous to touch, but deadly if ingested.
Xichen's already big eyes go wider. Was this an assassination attempt?
No. It probably was an actual attempt at a joke, on his part. He knows that I know poison. The hard look Wen Ruohan gives Chu Bingwen soothes Meng Yao's anger just the tiniest bit.
They are given many other things throughout the course of the banquet. Several new hair accessories, a beautiful wall hanging embroidered with the story of Emperor Ai and Dong Xian that Meng Yao thinks a tacky and too obvious gift for a wedding of two men but makes Xichen light up with joy, three more tea sets (honestly, how much tea do these people think they drink?), a carved statue of a dragon wrapped around a pearl and holding another in its mouth, a statue of Guanyin. And, in an unexpected second gift from Wen Ruohan himself, a thick red quilt to cover their bed. Meng Yao finds no faults nor attempts at harm or spying in any of them.
Finally, they are allowed to leave. Meng Yao bows to his father, wishes the rest of the room a happy continued banquet, and all but runs with his husband back to their rooms. On the way, he tosses the spelled teapot into a bush.
Xichen laughs. "Not going to deal with that right now?"
"Absolutely not. All it will hear until morning is bugs crawling on it." He snorts. "I'm insulted that the Jin even tried. Especially with something so tacky. I would've thrown it out even if it wasn't rigged." He's fairly sure that he spoke loudly enough for the teapot to be able to relay his words appropriately. "I'll tell my father about it tomorrow."
Xichen opens the bag once they are in the sitting room and removes the cloth covering Huaisang's gifts. He splays his hand out over it, and Meng Yao does the same. He expects it to form two separate communication arrays, and is briefly impressed with Huaisang's spell work when it instead draws all three of them into a single array. It's a writing array like the ones he has with Daiyu and Xichen, but this one is a bit different. It doesn't feel any sort of permanent, it feels like it would only last a week at most with the strain of three people using it. Meng Yao has yet to figure out how having more than two people in a communication matrix works, but at least the two-person ones he has made will last until the talisman is destroyed.
Huaisang? He writes, and feels a jolt of familiar energy.
Zewu-jun? Yao-ge?
Yes, Meng Yao writes.
We are both here, Xichen adds. How are you?
Angry. Very angry. But not with the two of you. A fluttery feeling, like a sigh, comes through. What are you talking with me for? It's your wedding night. I even gave you reference material!
Meng Yao chokes out a laugh. I wanted to check on you. It seemed urgent.
I'm sure your hands are as tied as mine. There's a long pause. Go enjoy a little bit of time where everything is good, Yao-ge. You did your best. We can talk more in the morning. I'll be here for three days.
Meng Yao suddenly realizes he's biting back tears. What right does he have to relax, now, when Huaisang is still in attendance at a banquet where he has no choice but to watch his brother be hurt and humiliated?
I'm not at the banquet anymore, Yao-ge. I faked fainting and Zonghui was allowed to take me back to my room. I think me seeing him like that was making da-ge even more stressed. Zonghui says he seems a lot calmer when I'm not there.
Well, that was certainly true.
I'm glad you got out of there , Xichen writes.
Now go have your wedding night, you ridiculous love birds. Unless you want me to start infodumping about the nature of actual love birds and how the pair of you truly are comparable to them.
Alright, A-Sang, we're going, Xichen writes. Don't hesitate to contact us if you need anything.
There's no response. Xichen sighs, and gathers Meng Yao into his arms. "Come, my love," he says softly. "Tonight is for us. You work so hard. One night of respite isn't going to do any harm. On the contrary, it will help." He tugs. "Come to bed, A-Yao. I need you."
Apparently, that is all it takes. The hard clench of Meng Yao's jaw relaxes. "You need me, A-Huan?"
"Yes."
They tumble together into the bedroom, leaving the qiankun bag of gifts behind in the sitting room.
"How are you, my love?" Meng Yao asks as he starts on helping Xichen out of his many layers.
"I am well," he says, letting Meng Yao ease his arms out of the sleeves. "It was not as bad as I expected. Seeing Wangji cry… was difficult." He sighs, and folds his outer robe to set aside. "But I am happy to be back in our rooms. With you."
It takes them almost an hour to get Xichen out of his robes, and both their hair taken down, and by the time Xichen is stripping Meng Yao down to his innermost robe, he's completely forgotten about the scandalously thin silk.
Xichen's jaw drops. "A-Yao…"
A sudden burst of confidence has Meng Yao stepping back, allowing the maroon robe to slip fully to the floor. He spreads his arms. "Is there something you like, my husband?"
Xichen is still staring at him. "You are so beautiful," he murmurs. "You're really mine?"
"Yes, A-Huan. All yours." Meng Yao cradles his jaw, the loose sleeves of the thin silk robe pooling over his shoulders. "And you're all mine."
Notes:
Not naming this chapter 'the bows will now commence' is the most self control I have ever displayed in my life
Emperor Ai and Dong Xian are the couple from the story where the term 'cutsleeve' comes from, in case anyone was wondering.
Also. There is a secret in the comments~
Chapter 18: Interlude 1: Does it feel good when I touch you, right there?
Summary:
Xichen and his A-Yao, alone in their rooms at last, married at last, at long last.
Notes:
Welcome to the first interlude, where the POV shifts to someone besides Meng Yao for a chapter. There will be two other interludes besides this one, one from Wen Ruohan's POV and one with a super-duper secret mystery character.
This chapter is 100% enthusiastically consensual, loving wedding night sex between Xichen and Meng Yao You can totally skip it if you're not interested, no plot shall be missed.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Soft, small, strong hands push him down onto the bed. Xichen goes willingly, eagerly. Part of him wants to grab A-Yao with all four limbs and drag his beloved down on top of him. He's too curious to see what he has in mind, though, and more than a bit concerned that that may be too much.
"You have the body of a divine being," A-Yao murmurs.
He's certainly one to talk. A-Yao is achingly beautiful, and he isn't even naked yet. The thin, translucent white silk lays over his skin, blurring the details of his body but showing enough that Xichen's mouth waters. He can see A-Yao's elegant neck, the expanse of unblemished skin broken only by two beautiful little buds. They're peaked, they look like they're calling to Xichen's mouth. Like they're begging to be sucked and licked. He's wearing pants, but they're thin enough to show the smallness of his waist, the gentle curve of his hips.
"A-Yao, please…" Xichen puts a hand on each of his hips, unsure of where he wants to be, what he wants to do first. He wants everything.
"What is it, my love?" A-Yao asks. He sits more firmly onto Xichen's lap, pressing his gorgeous ass against his erection. "What do you want?"
Everything, he wants everything, he wants to taste every inch of his A-Yao, he wants to use his mouth, he wants, he wants…
"Touch me," Xichen gasps. "Please, touch me, let me touch you. Tell me I can, please..." Yes, that's what he wants. More than anything.
"Yes," he says. "You can touch me, please touch me." A-Yao kisses him. Xichen cradles his face, pushing up into the kiss with his other hand and trying to give as good as he gets. He licks the inside of A-Yao's mouth, sucks on his lip, wants to crawl inside him and never come out.
"Whatever you want," A-Yao murmurs as they kiss. "Anything, just tell me."
Anything, he can have anything. He only needs to ask. He is not good at asking, but he has already learned so many new skills in Nightless City, he can work on this one for his beloved.
Xichen allows himself to fall back down on the bed. He wants to make love to his husband, that's what he wants. He wants A-Yao's perfect, pristine calm to melt away in the face of their love, he wants to make that brilliant mind empty of stress and full of joy.
"I want to make you feel good," he says, which he feels is the best way to articulate this desire. "I want to be close to you."
He doesn't care in what way they're close, he only wants to be close. A-Yao seemed interested in the idea of being penetrated, when Xichen brought it up during the victory banquet, before the utter disaster happened. He wants that so badly he feels it in the narrow of his bones. He wants the hot clench of his A-Yao around him, he wants his love's legs wrapped so tight around his waist he can hardly move. He wants A-Yao's nails clawing at his back as he presses deeper. He wants to wring every bit of tension out of his husband's tiny, precious body, and replace it with overwhelming pleasure.
Perhaps the illustrations on the cover of the… reference material… that Huaisang gave them had awoken something in Xichen after all. The picture, cut into two pieces to show the progression of time, depicted two men entwined, one small and lithe and the other large and muscled. In the first illustration, the larger one crouched over his smaller partner, stooping down and about to kiss him while his hands lifted his hips into position to accept the thick, heavy erection into his rear hole. In the second, neither had moved much, but the larger man's length had vanished completely inside his partner's body, the only sign of it being a tiny bump in the lean stomach of the smaller man. They were kissing, and, judging by the amount of fluid on the smaller man's stomach, it seemed he had orgasmed from the sensation of his partner's length sliding inside him.
"I love you," A-Yao says, dragging Xichen's mind away from the lewd book cover. He kisses Xichen's face, chin, neck, and that is so wonderful… A-Yao's mouth is soft and sweet, and he can't help but shiver as he remembers it wrapped around the head of his length, so warm, so wet, so much nicer than Xichen's own hand.
"I love you too," Xichen says. A-Yao finds a sensitive spot under his jaw even Xichen didn't know about, and attacks it with soft licks and gentle nips.
"Do you want to be inside me, my love?" A-Yao asks, and punctuates his question with a gentle roll of his clothed hips over Xichen's naked erection.
He sinks his nails into his palms and bites his lip with the effort of not coming on the spot. "Yes!" He squeezes A-Yao's hips, holding him, if he grinds down again Xichen will be lost. "But only if you want that, too."
A-Yao laughs, the sound pure joy.
"I want that so badly," he murmurs, eyes glowing happily. "You have the most beautiful cock I've ever seen, gods, I want it."
Something inside Xichen puffs up a bit at the praise, so earnest, from his beloved. He pleases the man he loves, his A-Yao finds him pleasing to look at. Objectively, Xichen knew he was attractive, but having such a blatant confirmation of that by the only person he's ever desired lights his nerves on fire.
A-Yao likes to look at him, but there is more to this than merely looking. Will he be able to please the man he loves? Xichen has never done this before, everything he knows of lovemaking comes from the single spring book he read as a teenager, his and A-Yao's previous liaisons that went no further than hands and mouths, and his glimpse of the cover of Huaisang's gift.
"I don't know what to do," he admits. He suspects A-Yao will know, he has such a good grasp on anatomy. But he doesn't want to make him think of… bad or unpleasant things. Especially not now.
The sash of A-Yao's robe goes flying, closely followed by the robe itself, and then he's straddling Xichen in nothing but his trousers, which are thin and clingy. He can see the shape of A-Yao's arousal through the fabric, he can see how much the leaking head has soaked through. He wants to clean A-Yao's trousers with his mouth. He wants to tear them off with his teeth for daring to trap his need so uncomfortably. He wants a lot of things.
"That's alright. I can teach you, it's not difficult."
A-Yao is too far away, he decides. Sure, he is straddling his hips, but Xichen needs to hold him, needs to taste him. He sits up a bit on one elbow, laying gentle kisses down A-Yao's neck. His husband's neck. Moving down to his beautiful collarbone, nosing at the hollow space there, barely resisting the siren call of A-Yao's nipples, begging to be sucked.
"I am very eager to learn," Xichen murmurs between kisses.
A-Yao teaches him, and Xichen is a dutiful student, even more so here than he has ever been before. He rolls his beloved beneath him, keeping him warm and sheltered. Xichen slicks his fingers with the soft oil from the nightstand, parts A-Yao's ass cheeks, and strokes over his opening.
"How is that?" He murmurs into A-Yao's chest, licking down his sternum.
"Good." For all that he does know what to do, A-Yao is certainly not confident in his ability to teach. That's alright, at this point Xichen thinks he understands.
He gently nuzzles a nipple as the first finger eases inside. Xichen hums to himself to push through the powerful image of this hot, warm embrace around him, the vibrations from his mouth traveling to A-Yao's nipple.
"You're perfect," he whispers reverently. He pours more oil onto his finger before pressing it inside again, this time going deeper, down to the base knuckle. A-Yao gasps, tosses his head and pushes down into him, hips stuttering minutely. "How is that?"
More, A-Yao writes in the matrix, and the implication that he is too breathless and too well-loved to speak aloud makes Xichen's heart soar with pride.
"More?" He asks out loud. I can give you more, he writes, rubbing his cheek affectionately on A-Yao's chest to hear his beating heart. I can give you everything. Is that what you want?
"Yes!" A-Yao sounds as desperate as he feels, dragging Xichen down into a deep kiss.
"It's yours, I'm yours," Xichen promises, and he means it like he has never before meant a promise. He is A-Yao's, body and soul. Xichen rotates his finger, remembering something from the spring book of his teenage years. The pad of his finger finds a little bump inside A-Yao's tight channel, that makes his spine arch and his eyes fly open.
"There!" A-Yao's beautiful length jerks and drips when that bump inside him is caressed. The sight makes something in Xichen purr happily, shouting yes, I am bringing my beloved pleasure.
"Right there, my love?" He hardly recognizes his own voice, roughened with desire and coming from somewhere deeper in his chest than his words usually do. A-Yao seems to like it, judging from the way his already blown pupils dilate further and he presses a bit more against Xichen's chest. "Does it feel good when I touch you, right there?"
Again with that sinfully gorgeous arch of A-Yao's back. For a brief moment, Xichen imagines them staying like this forever. Xichen could always have a finger on that little spot inside A-Yao that makes him feel so good. They could always be pressed up against each other, chest to chest, breathing as one. Xichen pushes down on the spot again, this time rubbing it in a small circular motion, and A-Yao's eyes roll back.
"Shitting hell!"
Xichen would be concerned by the swearing if it wasn't accompanied by a smile and desperately bucking hips.
A-Yao's body takes his fingers so well. Once the first is sliding in and out with no problems, he adds a second, entranced with watching the flushed rim of his hole stretching, pulling away from A-Yao just enough to see. His A-Yao is pretty everywhere, from his silken black-brown hair to his peach-colored mouth to his pebbled nipples and trim waist, but especially so between his flawless thighs. His gorgeous, charmingly pink erection that's just the right size to rest on Xichen's tongue, dripping on his stomach, his soft balls that also feel so good in his mouth, and lower down, the tight little hole he never wants to leave alone again. The grasping heat around his fingers is divine, the little whines and pleas for more that the gentle fingering brings out of his beloved A-Yao even better.
Xichen adds a third finger, avoiding that sweet spot if only to also avoid overwhelming his husband. For now. He carefully reminds himself where it is, so he can find it with the head of his erection later. Once he's buried inside his A-Yao, he wants him to experience nothing but mind-numbing pleasure.
"A-Huan... fuck..."
The soft spot just under A-Yao's jaw tastes so good, he can't help but nibble it a little while he smiles. "That's the good kind of swearing, yes?"
"Fu-uck," A-Yao gasps, his eyes rolling briefly again as Xichen flirts ever-so-gently with that little nub again. "You-- oh gods-- you know ex-ACTLY what I mean."
The unshakeable joy that is screaming its happiness about being able to pleasure A-Yao so well must be showing on his face, it must be shining like light from his pores. The ever-present tension in A-Yao's back, his lips, his hands, is gone.
He kisses A-Yao, if only to enjoy the softness of his mouth in such relaxation. "This humble husband wishes only to bring his A-Yao pleasure," he says, earnestly and perhaps with a trace of smugness. Just a little.
A-Yao groans, teeth sinking into Xichen's lip while they kiss. "Fuck, A-Huan, you can't just say things like that."
"Why not?"
He thinks A-Yao might be trying to glare at him, but he's smiling too widely and gasping for breath in such an adorable way that it has no hope of holding any heat or anger.
"I swear, if I come before you're inside me…" A-Yao tugs his hair. For a brief moment Xichen's entire world turns into he wants to come with me inside him, he wants to come clenching down around me!
"Are you asking me to hurry up?" Xichen asks when he can think again.
"Yes, dammit," A-Yao whines, his lower lip sticking out just a bit. Gods, that does things to Xichen.
"If that is what my A-Yao wants, I could never deny him," Xichen says, still a bit hung up on he wants to come on my cock.
But if he has to see A-Yao's adorable pouting face again, Xichen will probably come untouched, so he carefully presses a fourth finger inside A-Yao. His length is thicker than average, he knows that much, and he would rather die than hurt A-Yao, even for a second. He will be well-stretched and oiled before Xichen gets inside him.
"A-Huan!" A-Yao looks up at him through his long eyelashes. There are tears in his eyes, though he still doesn't look to be in pain.
"Does it hurt?" Xichen can't help but worry.
"Fuck no, I just need you to touch me…" A-Yao pushes down onto his fingers.
Is he not touching him enough? "I am touching you." They are still pressed together, as close as they can be while leaving space for Xichen's hand to finger him open.
A-Yao's pretty eyes are burning, peach colored mouth slack. He looks debauched and desperate and so, so happy that Xichen could burst.
"I want your cock, A-Huan, inside me," A-Yao says, and now it takes a monumental effort not to burst. "Would you like me to beg?"
"You don't need to beg, not for what's already yours." The idea, while slightly sexy, is mostly ludicrous-- Xichen is incapable of refusing his beloved, he needs no cajoling or convincing. "My body is yours, whatever you want, you need only ask."
A-Yao spreads himself out on his back, legs opening up invitingly as Xichen's fingers slip out. As he gathers his husband to his chest, those gorgeous legs wrap around his waist.
"In me," he whispers hotly into Xichen's ear.
Despite the extensive preparation, his husband is still so tight … Xichen lifts his lower back, pressing their chests together. That precious opening yields to him with a bit of a push, the inside blisteringly hot around and tight around him, squeezing him where he aches. They fit, they fit so perfectly together that this must have been arranged by some deity.
A-Yao holds tightly to Xichen's hair. "A-Huan," he whimpers. "Please, I need you, you can go faster, you can go deeper, please…"
One of the short stories in the spring book Xichen read as a teenager had been between two men, from the perspective of the receiving partner. He'd felt so good, narrating the feeling of his lover's hot flesh opening him up, and begged for him to go deeper, that he wanted to feel so close that they could never be separated. The first time he read it, he'd been so hard he worried he would pass out.
Xichen kisses his neck, trying to soothe him. A-Yao is tight, tight , too tight and too precious to be taken roughly or without care. "I don't want to hurt you." He gasps in a quick breath, keeping the slow slide. "You feel so good, so hot and tight… A-Yao… I feel like this is where I belong."
Yes, this is right. This is how they are meant to be, together, skin-to-skin from head to toe. Connected as intimately as they can, the whole length of Xichen's arousal inside his A-Yao.
A-Yao gently kicks at his back, the tight embrace of his legs around Xichen's waist loosening just a bit. "Move, please, please!"
He could never deny the man he loves, not when he asks like that especially. Xichen draws out slowly, measuring his breaths, and once he is sure he can hold off on his own pleasure, pushes back in faster. Not rough, never rough, but with enough force to make A-Yao squeak with delight.
"Yes," he gasps, using the grip of his hands on the curve of A-Yao's back to help him meet every thrust. "Fuck, A-Yao…" the curse word tastes sweet on his lips, almost as sweet as a kiss. A blissful tingling erupts all over his body, tugging at him and reminding him that they can still be even closer. He tips headfirst into the sensation, A-Yao's golden core reaching out to receive him.
The joy is immediate and engulfing, omniscient. Everything is A-Yao my A-Yao my precious one my delight my love
Mine an explosion in A-Yao's voice
And it feels like A-Yao is inside him because he is, A-Yao's magic is in him, in his own golden core
Love so much always Xichen is hardly aware of his body
I will keep you safe I swear it my love my husband my A-Huan
I will do the same you are a bigger target I will not let anyone with ill intent within ten meters of you my husband
So strong so perfect so good
Only for you
Oh, but Xichen has a body too, a body connected intimately to A-Yao's body.
"Dual cultivation," he gasps, rubbing his cheek against A-Yao's neck, nuzzling and licking him. "More-- than I-- expected."
There are tears of joy in A-Yao's eyes, his entire grip on Xichen is crushing and warm and possessive and so good. Nails bite into Xichen's back, the harsh sting a bright pleasure point within a sea of more pleasure.
Not hurting you am I
A-Yao will never hurt him, there is nothing he knows more than this one simple fact.
No I want more harder
The skin on his back breaks, he arches into it as much as he arches into A-Yao's beloved body, he's making A-Yao feel so good, he is, Xichen is the one doing this--
Orgasm knocks the breath from his lungs. He pushes down harder into him, aware of his golden core spinning, pumping power and brilliant light into his husband just as surely as he fills him with his seed.
A-Yao A-Yao A-Yao feel so good fill you up love you keep you warm get rid of any trace of anyone else mine mine
He finds his own release just a second later against Xichen's stomach, gasping and holding on to Xichen's shoulders. His body wrings down so tight around him, and Xichen groans and comes even harder with the knowledge, thrust into him from A-Yao's own mind, that his cock is thick and perfect for A-Yao to clench around as he comes.
yes yes yours mine yes A-Huan feels good yes
He feels simultaneously boneless and invigorated, like he could curl up and sleep peacefully or go another round, another two, maybe even three or four, if that is what his husband wants. Xichen murmurs this to A-Yao, who laughs breathlessly, and then the world spins and tumbles. When it is set right again, Xichen is on his back, with A-Yao seated on his hips, teasing his need against those perfect round cheeks.
"A-Huan," he whispers, leaning down to kiss him. "More."
Notes:
The next chapter is another double, with the chapter and a corresponding extra posted at the same time, and can be read in any order depending on whose POV you want first. So be ready for that, sometime in the next two weeks.
Chapter 19: I have it on good authority that something terrible has befallen the Lan Grandmaster
Summary:
Xiyao's wedding night bliss is interrupted. Very interrupted.
Notes:
Here I have for you, dear reader, another branching path. The choice is simple, you can read this chapter, the events the night after the ceremony from Meng Yao's perspective, first, or you can click here and read about it from Lan Wangji's perspective first.
Warning: offscreen suicide of a minor named character (if you read Done For, the recent 5-chapter extra showcasing a day in the lives of WRH's harem, you probably saw this coming) and hand trauma/hand mutilation. Also a smidgen of probably unavoidable sex in the beginning.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
They are in the middle of round three when someone starts pounding on the door.
Meng Yao, sitting astride his husband's hips and enjoying the slow drag of his thick cock over his sensitive insides, snaps his head to the sitting room with raging annoyance. If looks could kill the bedroom door would be immolated.
Xichen smooths his hands over his hips. "Who would be bothering us, at this hour?"
Meng Yao snarls as the knocking not only doesn't go away, but increases in volume. It isn't Daiyu, she would have warned him in their matrix. Perhaps Wen Qing or her brother? Or Caihong?
Daiyu, is everything alright?
She's obviously startled. Yes, my prince, as far as I know.
He jumps off the bed, ignoring the oil and come that runs down his thighs, and grabs a heavy black under robe to wrap carelessly around himself. It belongs to Xichen and it dwarfs him. Stalking out of the bedroom, he throws the door open. "What?"
The man drops into an even lower bow than he already was in, face white. "Your majesty. I have news from the Lan guest quarters."
Meng Yao's heart jolts. "Shu Kaiyi," he says, recognizing the man. He's one of the guards that works in the guest quarters full-time, seeing to those who are being hosted in Nightless City. Meng Yao has been paying him monthly for years to bring him news and gossip. He's reliable, and what's worse, he wouldn't rouse Meng Yao over something small. "What is it?"
"Something has happened to Lan Qiren. I don't know what. I escorted Hanguang-jun to visit his uncle, and when the Grandmaster answered the door he was… bedraggled."
"Bedraggled how?" Meng Yao demands.
"His clothing was torn, and he had bruises on his face. His forehead band was also missing. One of the guards on shift with me implied that he had been attacked with the emperor's sanction, for insulting you during the ceremony."
The 'unique and strange' comment, no doubt. Easily the kindest insult he's ever been given, and Wen Ruohan still had Lan Qiren… assaulted, somehow, over it?
"I don't have any names," Shu Kaiyi says. "All I know is what I saw on Lan Qiren. Lan Wangji seemed fine, as cold and distant as ever."
Meng Yao nods. "Thank you for coming to me so quickly." He's annoyed, very annoyed, but it pays to keep your informants happy, and most of his anger isn't with the messenger anyway. "Wait a moment, I didn't bring any silver with me to the door." He's wearing only his husband's under robe, after all. He darts back into the sitting room, where Xichen is sitting wrapped in the under robe from his wedding attire. His eyes are huge.
You heard? Meng Yao writes in their shared matrix.
Yes. He passes Meng Yao one of the many money pouches he has stashed around the rooms. I wish. I wish Grandmaster Lan would let me speak to him.
Meng Yao sets his jaw. The agreement about the Lan that you struck with my father still stands. If anyone has hurt Lan Qiren, I will make them pay dearly.
Xichen squeezes his hands. Are you going now?
He doesn't want to. He wants to have one damn night where he doesn't have to be on high-alert every second. He was almost there, laying in bed with Xichen, making love with his husband. He was so fucking close.
Yes. The sooner the better. If it wasn't destroyed, I'll try to get his ribbon back to him. Is it a huge breach of etiquette if I have to touch it to return it to him?
No more a breach than it was to take it from him in the first place. Xichen sighs sadly. It would be considered polite if you didn't touch it with your bare hands, if you wrapped it up in a handkerchief or some other cloth.
Meng Yao kisses him. Alright, I can do that.
He gives Shu Kaiyi two coins, and sends the guard on his way. Meng Yao is fairly sure his wife recently had either twins or triplets very unexpectedly, and they need every coin they can get.
Meng Yao brings Daiyu up to speed as quickly as he can. He changes into a more put-together outfit, an inner robe that actually fits him and an outer robe and trousers and shoes, cleans up between his legs, and Xichen puts his hair up quickly.
"Thank you," he murmurs, kissing Meng Yao's neck. "Be safe."
For a brief moment, Meng Yao holds his husband and pretends he doesn't have to go. He pretends this is a normal wedding night. He pretends they've dressed him up in all his princely garb so Xichen can have the pleasure of taking it off him again. In a moment he'll be able to put down Hensheng, put down the Seer's Dagger, and go back to bed.
He kisses him, hard and quick, and lets go of the fantasy.
"I will."
And then he stalks off to the guard quarters, pulling Wen Huoyao around him like corpse miasma. He is angry, about a lot of things. Angry about being pulled away from his husband on their wedding night. Angry about having his orders disobeyed, he told everyone that the Lan were off-limits. If Wen Ruohan really did give a contradictory order…
He shakes off the thought. If that's the case, the problem is much too big to be dealt with tonight. For now, he needs to find out the names and faces of the people involved.
The door to the guard's common room slams open. The look on his face must be thunderous, because the two dozen or so guards milling around instantly leap to attention, bowing deeply.
"M-my prince," one of the captains stammers out. Wen Jiefu, he's fairly certain, Wen Fuhe's younger brother. "What can we do for you?"
Wen Huoyao draws out his new dagger, slowly. It feels good in his hands, stronger than the knife he preferred to have everyone think was his primary spiritual weapon, back when he was nobody in Nightless City. Even now, not many people know about Hensheng's existence. Better for surprise attacks.
"I have it on good authority," he says, seething, "that something terrible has befallen the Lan Grandmaster."
One of the guards on the captain's left makes a little distressed noise, and Wen Huoyao spots a glimpse of blueish-white on his arm, broken by a golden charm.
Ah. This is going to be easier than he thought.
"You," he says, pointing. "What's that on your arm?" He's calmer, now that he knows he won't need to go interrogating half the guardsmen to find someone who can inform on the culprits.
The man drops down to his knees. "The-- the emperor s-said it was alright!"
Huoyao gestures with his dagger. "Stand up."
The guard shakily gets to his feet. Huoyao steps forward, pressing the tip of his dagger into the man's chest. The flat of the blade shines red, reflecting off his robes. The reflection drips in a way that fabric doesn't. "What's your name?"
"F-fu Tongxin, your majesty," he stammers. He takes a step back, avoiding the point of the dagger.
"And how did you come to have such an armband as this, young master Fu?" Huoyao walks him right back into the wall, where he stops retreating with a thunk. "Start at the beginning."
"His excellency s-said, he said that the Lan had forfeited all p-protections when they disowned Zewu-jun," he whispers, eyes fixed on the point of Huoyao's dagger pressing into his sternum.
Huoyao grabs his wrist and slams it into the wall, holding up the ribbon tied on his arm. "Do you know what it means to wear a Lan ribbon openly, Fu Tongxin?"
"N-no, my prince."
Huoyao examines the ribbon. It doesn't look damaged. Just kept as some kind of trophy. "Only family may touch the sacred ribbon," he says, slowly, as if he's educating a very young child. "Are you a long-lost brother of Lan Qiren?"
"No, my prince."
He hums thoughtfully. "His secret son?"
"No." Huoyao's grip tightens on his wrist. "M-my prince."
"You must intend to marry him, then." The dagger drifts up to Fu Tongxin's throat. "You have his ribbon, you're wearing it openly on your arm. Am I invited to the ceremony?"
His face goes white. "I-- I didn't know, I--"
Huoyao's dagger presses just a bit harder into his neck. "You've clearly already fucked him. Aren't you going to take responsibility?"
The guard is trembling violently. "No! No, nobody fucked him, your majesty, I swear!" Huoyao arches an eyebrow at him, and he babbles on. "We just tossed him around a bit, scared him, said we would but we didn't! I swear on my mother's name!"
"I see. So you don't want to marry Grandmaster Lan, then?" He looks pointedly at the ribbon again.
"No, your majesty." He gulps. "I am engaged, I can't, I didn't know…"
"How unfortunate for them, being engaged to such a man," Huoyao drawls. "Not even wed yet and you're already unfaithful."
He closes his eyes, fists clenched by his sides. "I didn't know," he whispers. The dagger breaks skin, just the barest amount.
A-Huan, Huoyao writes. I've found the man who has Lan Qiren's ribbon. He claims not to have raped him or badly hurt him, just threatened to and thrown him around and taken the ribbon. Should I kill him?
A moment, and then, no. Not unless you have to, or have proof that he did… sexually assault the Grandmaster.
Huoyao pulls away the dagger. "You are very lucky that my husband is a more merciful man than I am. He asked me before I was so rudely torn from my marriage bed not to draw blood." He smirks at the cut, bleeding sluggishly on Fu Tongxin's neck. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."
Stepping back, he gestures to the ribbon. "Untie that. Now." He pulls a handkerchief from his sleeve, unfolds it, and as the guard unties the ribbon, he holds it out. "Now, put it here." He nods as the ribbon is carefully deposited into the handkerchief. "Watch and learn. If you're taking a sacred object by force from someone, it's good practice not to touch it with your bare hands." He gives a sugary smile. "Now you know."
"Thank you, your majesty," the guard whispers. He's starting to relax. He's getting complacent. He thinks Huoyao is finished with him.
The lack of backtalk is still utterly astonishing. Huoyao is used to being feared, but being respected is new.
(No, wait, it's not, Meng Yao is the one who isn't used to being respected. And he can't be Meng Yao right now. He has to be Wen Huoyao, in order to be cruel. And he has to be cruel if he wants to have any hope of this never happening again.)
Huoyao grabs the wrist of his left hand, the one that the ribbon had been tied to, and slams it into the wall again. He plunges the dagger into the palm, pinning it to the wall, and then shoves the dagger up through bone and flesh and wood, and cuts the guard's middle finger cleanly in half from the center of the palm to the tip. It's an old, old technique of his, from his early days torturing under Wen Ruohan. A little bit of heat added to the blade of the dagger to stop blood from getting everywhere and cauterize the wound, a little extra cultivation to make the edge keener, a burst of power to bolster the muscles in his arms. After so much time tonight dual cultivating with A-Huan, he has power to spare. And the Seer's Dagger is powerful, it already enhances his strength even without the added enchantments, it already has a shockingly keen edge.
Fu Tongxin screams and tries to kick him away, but Huoyao is an iron wall. He will not be moved. He plucks his dagger from the wall, observes the gash in the wood, and takes a few steps back to give the screaming man space to collapse to the ground.
Huoyao folds the ribbon into the handkerchief and tucks it into his sleeve. He turns his back on the quivering guard cradling his mutilated hand, and addresses the room. "I expect every single one of you to remember this. One, the Lan are still under my protection. Two, there is plenty I can do without drawing blood." He looks down on Fu Tongxin's crumpled form over his shoulder. "I certainly hope you can still please your fiance with only one hand."
He sweeps out of the room, considering grabbing another of the guards and making them escort him to Lan Qiren's guest room, but that would disrupt the dramatic exit. He knows where the Lan are being housed, and besides, he doesn't trust these guards.
I hurt him, but he'll survive. I have the ribbon, I didn't touch it, and I'm going to return it to Lan Qiren.
A feeling of relief sweeps over the matrix. Will you check on him? Will you make sure he's alright?
Of course.
The guards currently on rotation in the guest wing bow to him.
"Take me to Lan Qiren's room."
They do, they ask no questions. Good. He knocks twice on the door, and to his surprise, Lan Wangji opens it. And he has an actual expression on his face, one of open shock.
Huoyao's eyebrows shoot up. He didn't know Lan Wangji and his uncle were sharing a room. "Hanguang-jun. Is the Grandmaster in?"
"What is it?" A tired voice says from behind Lan Wangji.
Lan Qiren looks like he's been the favored plaything of a particularly sadistic huli jing. His hair is a mess, his clothes are tattered and dirty, and his face is bruised. If he looks this bad now, an hour at least after the attack, it must have been brutal. Lan Qiren is no weak cultivator, and probably heals fast, even if he is more a scholar than a warrior.
Huoyao removes the handkerchief from his sleeve and offers it. "I have something that belongs to you. Returned as a gift from my husband." Maybe he can win Xichen back a bit of favor with his family.
Lan Wangji snatches the handkerchief from his hand and unfolds it. The shocked expression from when he answered the door returns when he sees the ribbon.
"How very magnanimous of you," Lan Qiren says dryly. "To send your men to take it from me, and then return it as if you are doing a kindness."
He briefly considers repeating the finger-splitting maneuver from earlier. Lan Qiren doesn't really need both hands, does he?
Instead he shrugs, as if he doesn't care. "I made no order to have you attacked, Grandmaster, nor to have your personal effects stolen from you. I gave orders to the exact opposite, actually, and just before I came here I caused severe bodily harm to the man who had your ribbon for disobeying me. But I do not expect you to believe that. You have spat on every gift I've offered you thus far, I know better than to think you will stop and accept my kindness now." He folds his hands back into his sleeves. "Now, as everyone seems to be consistently forgetting, I was married today, and thought I was entitled to the night alone with my husband."
Lan Wangji shivers. Huoyao probably shouldn't enjoy seeing him uncomfortable as much as he is.
Then Lan Wangji slams the door shut in his face, and he's left blinking at the wood dumbly.
Lan Qiren seems alright. Bruised and tired but not majorly injured. He accused me of sending the guards to beat him and take the ribbon in the first place, and I don't think he believed me when I told him I didn't, but he has his ribbon back now.
Xichen's relief is palpable. Good. Are you coming back now?
What he really should do is go talk with his father. He should tell Wen Ruohan about what happened and make sure the man understands that Huoyao still fully intends to protect the Lan.
He doesn't want to. He wants to go to bed. He wants to sleep until this whole ordeal is over. But that isn't an option.
I can't, not yet. I need to speak with my father first.
Sadness tinges the matrix. Alright. I love you.
Trying to avoid tearing at his hair, or crying in frustration, is a battle. He wins, like he always does. It's exhausting.
The emperor's chambers are being guarded by Wang Ziran and Zhan Xingxi, both members of Wen Ruohan's personal guard. They both bow, though they look shocked to see him.
"My prince. What brings you away from your rooms on your wedding night?" Zhan Xingxi asks.
Huoyao grimaces. "I need to speak with my father."
Wang Ziran vanishes inside the emperor's rooms.
"You seem upset, my prince," Xingxi observes.
"Oh, am I? I hadn't noticed," Huoyao snaps.
Before either of them can say anything more, the door opens and Ziran beckons him inside. Wen Ruohan is standing in the sitting room, wearing a gray sleeping robe.
"Yao'er. I did not expect to see you again tonight. Is everything alright?"
"No," Huoyao snaps, with more fire than he intended. "The Lan are still under my protection."
His father blinks. Then he chuckles, faint and under his breath. "Oh dear, I forget sometimes how much you know and how quickly things find their way to you. I'm sorry for my callous words."
Huoyao opens his mouth with a truly terrific rant on his tongue, but Wen Ruohan crosses the space between them and puts a finger over his lips.
"The Lan gave up your husband," he says. "And with that they also surrendered the protection of being tied to my family. I know it's hard, my son. You love your husband so very much, and he still adores the family who deserted him."
Huoyao feels like the rug was ripped out from under him, and he's falling in slow motion.
"There is no special protection for the Lan. I cannot treat them any differently, then everyone will be wanting preferential treatment from me."
No. Not after everything Xichen sacrificed to keep them safe.
"A-die," he whispers.
Wen Ruohan sighs. "Goodness, it's hard to say no to those eyes. You must have been absolutely lethal as a pouting toddler, my son. I wish I had gotten to see it." He cups Huoyao's cheek. "I will make it known that the Lan are not to be treated any better or worse than our other guests. This includes basic hospitality, and if someone has breached that, I see no reason for you not to discipline them as you see fit. And if you wish to be… particularly harsh to those who mistreat the Lan, that is your choice. I will not impede that."
Huoyao swallows the lump in his throat. "I already have."
He's pulled into a hug, with kisses to the top of his head, and it wrecks him. "So efficient," Wen Ruohan laughs. "Do I need to send someone to deal with the body?"
It takes a few moments for the question to register in Huoyao's hazy mind.
"They have already dealt with one body tonight, one more is no trouble," his father continues.
Huoyao blinks. He might have fallen asleep for a moment. "Did you say there was another body?"
His father nods. He gives a short sigh. "Lan Guangjuan hung herself with her bedsheet about an hour after we left the banquet."
He doesn't blame her. She'd been brought here for the express purpose of getting pregnant over and over. Who wouldn't take the first possible escape route? Honestly, Wen Ruohan should have expected this.
"Are you going to take another Lan concubine, father?"
He tugs Huoyao back into a hug. "Not yet. Probably not for a while. I wouldn't want to risk incurring your wrath, my son. I've heard the Lan are under your protection, after all."
It takes a moment for him to realize that that was a joke. That his father is joking with him. Huoyao laughs, thinly, except it sounds like a sob.
"I will leave the position empty," Wen Ruohan says, serious again. He strokes Huoyao's hair. "So, do I need to send someone to deal with the body, Yao'er? I prefer not to invite rot or hauntings into the Fire Palace."
After the stress of the past hour, suddenly being held and allowed to rest and perhaps cry a bit (he isn't crying, he's just very quietly laughing) is distracting.
"...there isn't one," he finally says. "I left him alive, just with a mutilated hand. If he gets medical treatment quickly, Wen Qing might even be able to save it."
"Your Xichen asked for mercy, I see," he says, and Huoyao internally cringes. How does this man know him so well?
"It's his wedding day. If he wants something, I'll give it to him if I can."
Wen Ruohan kisses his head again and everything goes a little soft around the edges. Damn, he's tired.
"It's your wedding day as well, Yao'er, and I suspect that Wen Huan wants little more than for you to return to his arms." He's released from the embrace. "Go back to your rooms, and enjoy the rest of the night. I'm sorry you were pulled from your bed."
Huoyao tries to steady himself. Should he press for more? He doesn't think he'll get more, no matter how sweetly he asks.
"Is there something else?" Wen Ruohan looks deeply concerned now, putting a hand on his good shoulder.
"...the teapot given to me by the Jin," he blurts. "It's spelled. Some kind of talisman of listening. I threw it in a bush outside my rooms."
Wen Ruohan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Ah, Jin Guangshan never changes, does he? I'll send someone to fetch it." This time, his father kisses his forehead. "Now, back to bed with you. Your husband is waiting."
Tired and fuzzy all over, Huoyao staggers back to his rooms. It's probably around twelve o'clock, poor A-Huan is probably as tired as he is.
His husband catches him the instant he's through the door, eyes wide. "A-Yao, you look exhausted."
He shuts his eyes. "I am exhausted. I couldn't convince my father to give any more protection to the Lan than the other major families. He says they forfeited it with you."
Xichen's cheeks pale slightly. "I was worried he would take that stance."
"But. He said I could be as mean as I want to anybody who hurts the Lan. If I can spread the word enough, it should mostly protect them." Hopefully. He probably was too lenient with Fu Tongxin.
Xichen's eyes are worried. "Will you have to go back and kill the guard?"
"I don't know. I can't think about that right now."
"Of course," he murmurs, and takes Huoyao over to the mirrored vanity and undoes all his beautiful intricate clothes and hair for the second time tonight. He lays both hands on Huoyao's shoulders, kneading. Pain blinds him, blossoming across his back and shrouding the world in red-white flashes.
"A-Yao!? What's wrong?!"
Huoyao grabs Xichen's right wrist and pulls it off his shoulder. "It hurts," he gasps. "My shoulder. Old injury. From Carp Tower. Don't massage it."
"I… I didn't know," Xichen mutters, sounding guilty.
Huoyao sighs. "I never told you. It's alright, the pain is mostly gone."
"Is it okay if I touch it? Just gently, so I can see if my cultivation could help?"
That thought never occurred to Huoyao. "As long as you're gentle."
A big, warm palm settles over his shoulder blade. "Gods," Xichen says after a moment. "This is a serious injury."
"I know. It's all healed, though. It was years ago."
Xichen shakes his head. "It… I can hardly even tell what's going on, though the mess of inflammation. Have you had Wen Qing take a look?"
"No. She has more important things to worry about."
Behind him, Xichen feels tense, and on the brink of pushing him. But after a moment the tension breaks when a heavy wash of something phenomenal seeps out of Xichen's hand and into the meat of his shoulder. Huoyao moans at the sensation of cooling, of soothing.
"Fuck, what is that?" He gasps.
"Does it help?" Xichen asks.
There are actual tears running down Huoyao's cheeks. He had no idea his shoulder hurt so much until it didn't anymore. "Does it… yes, it feels so good… what is it?"
His husband kisses his hair. "It's an anti-inflammatory cultivation technique meant to ease pain. I learned it in the early days of the war." He pauses. "I… I have never used it on someone who wasn't actively dying. I wasn't sure if it could work on non-mortal wounds."
Huoyao swipes at his teary face. He doesn't cry, usually. That something as pedestrian as pain relief can make his dry eyes drip like faucets is both unsurprising and embarrassing.
"What happens if you stop?" He asks, hating himself for asking but already afraid of the answer. Best to just push through it now.
"It will slowly return, I imagine. The effects should last for a little while even after I stop. Should I? Is it getting uncomfortable?"
"Mostly, I just want to go to bed," he says, glad that the pain probably won't come roaring back instantly or be significantly worsened.
Xichen removes his hand, and it is unpleasant. The pain is still mostly gone, which is amazing, but that odd glow and the viscerally wonderful feeling of being connected to his husband leaves with the contact.
"Then let's go to bed," Xichen says firmly. "Come to bed with me, and let me hold you and love you."
He lays himself down and tugs Huoyao on top of him, tangling their legs together. A big hand comes to rest on his shoulder again, bringing back the wonderful buzziness and the exhilarating thrill of knowing Xichen's cultivation is pushing inside him.
"A-Huan," he mutters, eyelids fluttering. "You don't have to."
"Shhhhh. I want to, I want to take care of you." He kisses him, and that bleeds the rest of the tension out of Huoyao's body. "You're exhausted, my love. You've done so much today. You can sleep now."
He sleeps.
Notes:
When it comes to these branching paths, I'm always really curious about what order people read them in. If you have the time and energy I'd love to hear from you 💜
Chapter 20: He's going to pluck him right out of A-Huan's arms and throw him down the stairs of the dais, he just knows it
Summary:
A few weeks after the wedding, the first cultivation conference since the Wen empire's formation is called. Nie Mingjue suffers a bit. Wen Ruohan discovers something Meng Yao has been trying to hide.
Chapter Text
Meng Yao has, of course, been to a cultivation conference before. He's even helped organize one, back when he lived in Qinghe. There is no reason to be nervous.
He's nervous. Today is the day of the first cultivation conference since Wen Ruohan's ascension to emperor. And his first as a member of the gentry. It will last three days, is held right here in the Fire Palace, and is yet another of those gentry things that have a thousand unspoken rules everyone is supposed to be born knowing.
"Cultivation conferences really are easy, A-Yao," A-Huan says as he straightens out Meng Yao's guan. He offers his arm. "You'll do better than most, I'm sure of it. Shall we?"
Meng Yao accepts his arm. Their wedding was more than two weeks ago, but the knowledge that Xichen is his husband is still thrilling beyond belief. Just thinking that phrase (my husband) in his mind is enough to make everything else fade out for a moment, silencing all his stresses and his fears.
But being romantic is not the only reason that A-Huan offered his arm. All last night, it had rained, and it is still raining. Before they went to bed, he and Xichen had sat under the covering in the courtyard outside their rooms, and watched the rain and listened to the thunder. It was wonderful, until Meng Yao stood up from his husband's lap too fast and slipped on the wet stones.
A-Huan wanted to rouse Wen Qing to have her check on him, but Meng Yao staunchly refused. "I always ache when it rains," he explained to his husband while they prepared for bed. "The bruise is making it a bit worse. It's nothing to worry about."
He was still very sore when he got up in the morning. His shoulder, being a machine of perpetual agony, was the worst, but his hip hurt too. Unfortunate that he'd slipped and landed on his already injured right side. Xichen offered to use that wonderful cultivation technique that eased pain, but Meng Yao is wary of building a tolerance to the treatment. He wants to save it for when the pain is truly unbearable.
This, however, does have the effect of causing A-Huan to fuss even more than normal. Really, Meng Yao's only limping a little bit, and that's just so he can save up his ability to not limp in order to get through the throne room and up the stairs to his throne in front of his father.
"Lean on me," Xichen says firmly, and Meng Yao listens. It does help, actually. It's good to know that he has a way to save face in front of the massive crowd of people they'll soon be in front of if he ends up needing to walk.
The guest roster, which Meng Yao spent a good portion of last night reading over while Xichen briefed him on what was expected of a young master during a cultivation conference, is extensive. Jin Guangshan will be here, accompanied by an impressive assortment of his cultivators. Lan Qiren leads his clan to the conference, while Lan Wangji is staying behind to manage Cloud Recess. Apparently a few remnants of the Jiang have gotten back together and rallied to create a very small band of existing Jiang disciples, news that made Wanyin glow with joy and Yanli smile so widely Meng Yao was worried her jaw would fall off. Four of them will be here, and while it's unlikely that they will get to speak to their sect leader, Yanli will have plenty of time to socialize with them. Nie Huaisang will also be in attendance, with eight cultivators escorting him. Nie Zonghui is staying behind in the Unclean Realm.
On top of that, every minor sect within two hundred miles seems to be coming as well. All the groups that joined the Wen empire will be, obviously, the Yao and Ouyang and Qin, the Tu and Mo, the Su. Even the meager handful of sects that avoided joining the empire somehow, like the Yu and Shao, are still part of the cultivation world and therefore invited.
The total number of people in attendance is over two hundred, and though Meng Yao has never really been afraid of crowds or public speaking, up until now he's always attended these things as a servant. He's always been… lesser. Much, much lesser than nearly everyone else. And now, somehow he's greater. He's a prince. The prince to most of the people he will shortly be seeing.
That's the bit where he trips up. He is a prince. He is.
Occasionally he realizes that he's done perhaps too good a job compartmentalizing. Wen Huoyao is the prince, not Meng Yao. Except that Meng Yao is Wen Huoyao, no matter how many times he tells himself differently. By this logic, Meng Yao is a prince as well. If he dons different masks to do what he must, there must be some core creature, some base, to wear the masks, to change them. Some basic truth to the being that he is.
And that is all very complicated and hard to think about, so he's simplified it today into this: he is a prince. He is a husband. He is a son, though to who, exactly, he isn't quite sure. To Meng Shi, for certain. Everything else is… tangled up with his masks and woven like vines in a trellis across his mind.
They've reached the throne room. Two members of Wen Ruohan's guard, Zhan Xingxi and Wen Qisen, supervise the rest of the guardsmen around the doors.
"My prince. Lord Consort." They all bow, and Xingxi gestures them inside.
They walk to the bottom of the stairs. The attendees have not been allowed in yet, will not for another fifteen minutes, but Wen Ruohan and his guard are already set up. Daiyu is at her usual place by the foot of the stairs, a small table and cushion having been provided for her to sit and drink Wen Qing's throat soothing tea when her strong voice isn't needed. She has been officially promoted to the captain of Meng Yao's personal guard, no longer on Wen Ruohan's. He's glad for that. Shi Mingxia, her younger sister, has replaced her in the emperor's guard. Meng Yao doesn't know Mingxia very well, but Daiyu trusts her sister with her life, and Mingxia has apparently known about Meng Yao being a spy as long as Daiyu has.
She and the remaining nine members of Wen Ruohan's guard are scattered around the dais, prepared to defend the emperor. And, he supposes, Meng Yao himself as well. Xing Longwei is standing right beside his throne.
The emperor has Wanyin on one side, and Jin Zixuan on the other, both clad in silky red robes. He looks quite comfortable. On the ground by his feet, tied into a kneeling position, is a person Meng Yao doesn't recognize.
The man looks more like a statue than a person, especially given how still he is. His long, thick hair is done up in beautiful Qishan-style braids, with a guan shaped like the sun. There's a ring gag in his mouth, forcing it open. He's blindfolded, and that's the only fabric on him. He's covered in piercings. There are gold rings in both nipples, a sizable ruby in his navel, another ring in the stretch of skin between his navel and genitals. A web of glittering gold chains clips to the nipple rings and spreads down his chest. Another golden ring pierces his cockhead, exposed with the foreskin rolled down-- no, the foreskin is gone, removed completely. Several barbells decorate the underside of his shaft.
Xichen stops short at the foot of the stairs. He looks up, and his eyes widen. "Is that…"
The unfamiliar man stiffens, then wriggles a bit when Xichen speaks.
Meng Yao stares. There's something he's missing, something right in front of him. Something so painfully obvious he should be smacking himself for not noticing.
Wen Ruohan shifts in his throne and picks up a lock of the man's hair, twirling it around his fingers. "Doesn't A-Jue look phenomenal like this?"
Meng Yao barely keeps himself from gasping.
A-Jue. Nie Mingjue. Chifeng-zun.
The unfamiliar man sitting at the foot of the throne, looking like an erotic life-sized statue, is Chifeng-zun.
"I did not recognize him," he says, because he didn't and that is horrifying.
Wen Ruohan releases the captured lock of hair and gestures to Meng Yao's throne. "Come, have a seat, my son. We do not have much time before the attendants will begin to arrive."
May I carry you up the stairs? A-Huan writes.
Meng Yao, still reeling from the sight of Chifeng-zun reduced to… this… almost nods in response before remembering himself.
Yes.
A-Huan scoops him up easily and carries him, settling them into the usual formation with Meng Yao comfortably in his husband's lap.
At the surprised look from the emperor and the guards, Meng Yao sighs as if he's being indulgent. "A-Huan, it's alright, truly. I am only a bit sore."
His father raises his eyebrows. "A good night last night, my son?"
Heat rushes to Meng Yao's cheeks. "No, a-die. To be honest, last night I slipped on the wet grass out in the courtyard and hit my hip. It's only a bruise. That combined with the weather has me sore and stiff, that's all."
His father frowns, and something inside Meng Yao panics. He's being entirely truthful, but this is where Wen Ruohan chooses to disbelieve him?
Then, he shakes off Wanyin and Jin Zixuan, steps over Nie Mingjue, and walks to them. Meng Yao's heart stutters only to beat double-time. He hasn't let anything slip. Wen Ruohan doesn't know anything. There's no reason for him to be coming over to them looking so displeased. He reaches out for Meng Yao, and though he tries to hold his ground he finds himself cringing away.
Big hands settle on his shoulders. He's going to pluck him right out of A-Huan's arms and throw him down the stairs of the dais, he just knows it. He's weak. He's reflecting badly on his father. He shouldn't have let Xichen carry him, he could've walked without limping.
Wen Ruohan doesn't clamp down, though. He just holds. There's a feeling of qi prickling around him, gently poking. What is this? Some kind of test? Mind reading? Can he read minds?
Wen Ruohan sighs. "Yao'er, my son, what am I going to do with you?"
Meng Yao blinks. He doesn't seem angry, just… annoyed, perhaps? Not the face of someone who has found out they were betrayed. "I do not understand what you mean," he says, voice thin with anxiety.
"Your shoulder. Your arm. Your feet, Yao'er, there's something wrong with all of them, and I have the best doctors in the world here, and you've never thought to have one of them look at you?" He puts his hands on his hips.
The prickling of qi he'd felt was Wen Ruohan checking him for injuries!?
"Er," he says, completely unsure of how to respond.
Now, Wen Ruohan looks truly aggravated. "Huan'er," he says, and Xichen jumps a bit. Wen Ruohan has never called him that before.
"Yes, your excellency?" His arms tighten a bit around Meng Yao's waist. A-Yao, relax, he writes in the matrix. He doesn't seem angry or suspicious. I think he's just worried.
Wen Ruohan crosses his arms. "Tomorrow, after breakfast and during the two social hours of the conference, I will be sending Wen Qing and her brother to your rooms, to perform a full examination of my son. Make sure he is there, make sure he stays there, do not let him brush them off, and make sure he agrees to do whatever they say."
Xichen nods, and a feeling of brief satisfaction comes through the matrix. "Of course, your excellency. It would be my pleasure."
Feeling faintly ganged up on, Meng Yao sits up against his husband's chest. "A-Huan, my love, I already told you I don't need--"
Xichen cuts him off with a finger over his lips. "You do, A-Yao." In the matrix, he writes it would ease my worries. "Please. For me." If you don't take care of yourself, I might cry. His eyes are watering a bit.
Meng Yao gulps. "Don't cry. I'll cooperate." It will be a waste of Wen Qing's time, but if you insist.
Xichen smiles, and some of the weight on Meng Yao's heart lifts. Thank you, A-Yao.
The sound of the heavy doors opening jolt all three of them back to attention. Wen Ruohan goes back to his seat after patting Meng Yao on the head, once again melting him into a puddle of happy goo.
For all his evils, all his faults, he truly does care deeply for you, A-Huan writes. As a father should.
It takes almost an hour to get everyone settled into their spots. When the Nie come to greet the emperor, with Huaisang leading, they bow cleanly and evenly. At first Meng Yao thinks Huaisang didn't recognize his brother either. But as he reaches the deepest point of his bow, he glances up for just a moment, and oh. The fire in Nie Huaisang's eyes is blisteringly hot. He takes a moment to be extremely glad they're on the same side, because the Nie heir-- the Nie leader, now, for all intents and purposes, fuck-- doesn't just have murder on his mind.
No, the look in his eyes says he will stop at nothing less than Wen Ruohan's complete and absolute destruction. Him and his entire empire.
Meng Yao is extremely proud of how he conducts himself, back straight, eyes soft, after that one moment of scorching fury. Wen Ruohan already thinks Nie Huaisang a weak, bumbling fool from his interactions with the copy. And, certainly, he was a spoiled brat until a few months ago.
Hopefully Meng Yao will get the chance to talk to him soon, tell him he's doing well. If he can keep Wen Ruohan thinking that he's a harmless know-nothing, there are all sorts of things Huaisang can get away with right under his nose. They make eye contact for a moment, as the Nie walk to their designated table, and Huaisang gives him a tiny nod. Meng Yao returns it.
The Lan, who are greeting next, have their icy courtesy broken by the sheer horror of the picture Nie Mingjue makes. Lan Qiren demands an explanation, face redder than a sunset, and is laughed off by Wen Ruohan.
There is a little bit of socializing before the conference truly begins. The Qin report a few unusually strong ghouls roaming their border with Lanling. Jin Guangshan brushes them off, saying he's seen nothing of the sort on his side of the border with Laoling. The Lan report that their farmlands are slowly recovering, after a significant amount of Gusu was burned during the war, but they are still struggling to provide food for everyone, and they predict that the winter will be harsh. The report is given by a woman Meng Yao doesn't know in flat tones.
"Do you think you will require aid?" Huaisang asks, fluttering his fan.
"If you have any to spare, we would not say no," Lan Qiren says softly, like it greatly pains him to admit.
"Grandmaster Lan, I regret to say that Qinghe can't offer any aid," a woman who sits at Huaisang's right says. "We are struggling to feed our own as well. If we give up anything, we ourselves may not make it through the winter."
Huaisang waves his hands. "I'm sorry, I don't know, I really don't!"
Another little jolt of pride hits Meng Yao. He's doing so well. Wen Ruohan will never suspect a thing, not from Huaisang.
Xichen strokes his hair. You really think he can rally the smaller sects to our cause?
I do.
"Perhaps the emperor could help you," Jin Guangshan suggests silkily. "He is known to be generous at times."
Leaning forward, Wen Ruohan folds his hands. Jin Zixuan is nuzzling into his shoulder, while Wanyin is sprawled half over his lap and scrunches up a bit as the emperor leans over him.
"Will you ask me for aid, Grandmaster?"
Lan Qiren grits his teeth. Meng Yao can see it all the way across the room. He says nothing, even as the entire room stares at him.
"It truly is a shame that Gusu is so proud," Wen Ruohan says after the silence continues to drag on. "Once, I had quite looked forward to having ties of family to the noble Lan sect. But if their leaders are too prideful to ask for aid when it is needed, perhaps it is for the best I owe you nothing."
A jolt of pain comes through the matrix.
A-Huan, are you alright?
I hate agreeing with him, Xichen writes. The Grandmaster is too proud, he won't ask for anything. Not from Wen Ruohan. He will sooner let innocent people starve than bow. He probably sees your father as having stolen me, or corrupted me, and that only makes it worse. He clenches his fists. I can't say anything that will help my clan or my people.
Meng Yao squeezes his husband's hand, tracing patterns on his knuckles. Well, perhaps I can.
"We have had a bountiful harvest here in Qishan," Meng Yao says carefully. "I have been looking over the food stores as of late, and we have some to spare. I am sure something can be arranged." He gives Lan Qiren a heavy, meaningful look, internally pleading with him to be a reasonable person for the span of the fifteen seconds it would take to ask for aid. "With the proper motivation."
Wen Ruohan smiles at him, and Meng Yao is gratified that he made the right choice. Hopefully, this will nudge Lan Qiren in the right direction.
"I cannot help if you do not ask for it," Wen Ruohan coaxes, a bit mockingly.
Lan Qiren grits his teeth, jaw clenching. He keeps his mouth shut, and finally the woman who gave the Lan's report earlier sighs and stands up.
"Gusu would ask for the emperor's support in feeding our people. We will gratefully accept any aid that the emperor is willing to give," she says, putting one hand on the Grandmaster's arm.
Wen Ruohan chuckles. "And who are you? Are you authorized to make such statements?"
She raises her chin. "I am Lan Tianlü, head disciple of Cloud Recess. I am third in command."
The emperor tilts his head, visibly considering. His eyes are thoughtful, but dark, and slowly he smiles. It's a heavy, mean kind of smile. Meng Yao has seen him smile like that only twice before, once at Chen Liumin, once at Nie Mingjue.
"You are a lucky man, Lan Qiren," he says finally. "So surrounded by people willing to give you their everything, willing to do anything to protect that fragile pride of yours." His smile sharpens, and a rock of anxiety settles in Meng Yao's stomach. Is he going to have Lan Qiren executed, or worse, right here? That smile… nothing good ever comes out of that smile.
To Meng Yao's absolute shock, his father abruptly leans back in his throne, cruel smile softening. "Alright, then, Lan Tianlü. Gusu will have aid, food and seedlings enough to last the winter, with nothing asked in return. No thanks to Grandmaster Lan."
Tension bleeds out of Xichen, sitting under him. Thank the heavens for Tianlü.
She seems like a good head disciple. Capable of keeping her wits under stress, at least.
Wen Ruohan calls the Ouyang to report next, apparently done with the Lan whether they like it or not.
After that, the conference is every bit as droll and boring as A-Huan predicted it would be. He stays focused, because it would be rude and probably a huge breach of etiquette not to, but no one presents any problems that require his immediate attention.
They adjourn at four o'clock, thankfully. Wen Ruohan walks them back to their rooms.
"Do not forget about seeing the healers tomorrow," his father reminds him. "If you wish, you can join the conference again after lunch. However, the middle day is rarely very important, and if you would rather take the day off, there is no reason not to."
Meng Yao nods. "Yes, A-Huan did mention that the second day is usually for settling petty grievances and socializing."
Wen Ruohan laughs. "Speaking of petty grievances, I will be mentioning the spelled teapot to the Jin. Jin Guangshan will pay for it, I promise you."
A curl of satisfaction makes itself known in Meng Yao's stomach. "Thank you, a-die. It was rather distressing." They reach the rooms Meng Yao and his husband share. "Do you know what kind of punishment you'll give?"
"I have not quite decided yet. It is a shame that you will miss it."
A shame indeed. Meng Yao shrugs. "Well, as long as Jin Guangshan suffers, I will be content."
Wen Ruohan smiles. "You're a good boy, Yao'er. Enjoy your peaceful, quiet evening, the both of you." He kisses Meng Yao's head, gives A-Huan a short nod, and departs for his own rooms.
"It wasn't as bad as I expected," Meng Yao admits as they settle down to wait for dinner.
Their food is brought by the usual servant, a girl barely an adult who is still too frightened of Meng Yao to tell him her name, and Nie Huaisang. Surprisingly enough.
The instant the servant is gone, Huaisang throws himself down on their couch, arms and legs stretched out. "Hi," he says, fanning himself. "I'm going to kill Wen Ruohan with my bare hands."
"There's a line for that," Meng Yao says, swatting him playfully. He isn't sure where he himself falls in that line. Not anymore.
"Apparently the fake me was very popular with the guards."
Meng Yao sighs, pushing down the cloying panic. "You're not to be touched. Not by anyone under any circumstances. Both Wen Ruohan and myself have made that very clear."
Huaisang nods. "Your scary guard lady with the spear made that exceptionally clear to the man who wouldn't stop following me. I've been quite safe." He sits up, snapping his fan closed. "What about you two? How have you been?"
It's nice to catch up with him over dinner. Something about Huaisang has changed, but Meng Yao expected that. He's sharper, angrier. He always knew the second master of Qinghe Nie was much smarter than he let on, but this level of anger is reminiscent of his older brother. He hides it better, though. If he wasn't willing to show Meng Yao how angry he is, he doubts even he would know.
"The Yu and the Shao are both entirely willing to join against Wen Ruohan," Huaisang reports. "The Yu especially are furious about the way Jiang-xiong has been treated."
"He's doing better than I anticipated," Meng Yao tells him. "He and I are known to be friends. Wen Ruohan allows him to visit and tend to me frequently. He gets to visit his sister once a week." Meng Yao taked a sip of tea, mostly cold by this point. "It's a more comfortable position than I thought I could get for him."
"You're certain there's no way for you to swing something similar for da-ge?" He snaps his fan open again. It's a very pretty one, painted with plum blossoms.
Meng Yao sighs. "I've tried. Wen Ruohan is dead-set on keeping him out of my sight as much as possible. It means he doesn't get... passed around, like the fake version of you did, or publicly humiliated as much, but I know only what Wanyin tells me about what goes on with him."
Huaisang leaves not long after they finish eating. He uses a few creams he's been carrying in his sleeves to artfully form a fake bruise on his temple.
"If anybody spots me leaving your quarters, they'll know why," he says cheerfully.
"At least he seems alright," Xichen murmurs as they settle down for bed.
Meng Yao makes a 'mmm' sound, but he isn't sure if Nie Huaisang is alright at all.
Chapter 21: If I showed any weakness, I would've been eaten alive
Summary:
Meng Yao gets medical care. Sorely needed medical care. Xichen uses his adorable teary face for good.
Notes:
This chapter contains in depth discussion of past serious injuries, the inability to get medical treatment due to cost and medical trauma, as well as past child abuse
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The next morning, at precisely ten, Wen Qing and Qionglin arrive to knock on their door. Xichen lets them in, smiling.
"What's this I hear about an old shoulder injury?" Wen Qing demands, skipping the pleasantries to storm over to Meng Yao and plant her hands on her hips. "Why did you never tell me about this before?"
Meng Yao, who was still eating the tail end of his breakfast after sleeping in, blinks. "It never came up," he says, putting down his chopsticks. "And, well, you've always been busy with more important things."
She sniffs derisively. "Well. It's come up now, and I absolutely do not have something more important than keeping the man who is both my prince and long time co-conspirator in good working order."
Qionglin gives an apologetic smile. "Besides your s-shoulder, is there anything else we should know ab-b-bout?"
"Well. My father said he noticed something wrong with my shoulder, my arm, and my feet."
Qionglin nods, scribbling something on a pad of paper. "Do you tend to hurt particularly b-badly anywhere?"
He shrugs. "My whole right side hurts, usually." Meng Yao swallows. These are his friends, his allies. He can tell them things, and not be afraid of judgement or repercussions. "I. I hit the ground on my right side. After… the stairs of Carp Tower."
"I see," Wen Qing says, tapping her chin. "Those stairs are marble, after all. What kind of medical care did you get after that… incident?"
"I broke a few ribs, which I straightened and set myself. They ache sometimes but have never given me much trouble. I also set my right wrist." He raises the hand and rotates it. "It's always been a little stiff since then, but nothing terrible."
Qionglin is still scribbling away on his paper, nodding frantically.
"Alright. What healer did you see?"
"I didn't see a healer," Meng Yao says. Didn't he just tell her that?
Xichen stares at him. Qionglin drops his paper. Wen Qing pinches the bridge of her nose, looking deeply aggrieved.
"And why not?"
Looking down with a sudden sense of shame, Meng Yao shuffles his feet. "I tried," he whispers. "But I didn't have much money. I spent most of it travelling from Yunping to Lanling. There were healers who had signs saying they would treat those who couldn't pay, but they kicked me out on order of the sect leader. None of them were willing to risk treating me when Jin Guangshan put out an order saying anyone who did would lose their practice."
All three are still staring at him. His ears ring. He tried his best to be responsible, he really did. "I traveled to Qinghe after that because I thought I could find steady work there, and by the time I was employed, well. Everything was mostly healed by then."
Xichen swallows, throat bobbing. "So… Mingjue-xiong must've had one of the Nie healers look at you."
Meng Yao bites down on a scoff. "Why would he? I never gave the slightest indication I had injuries at all. If I showed any weakness, I would've been eaten alive." He sighs. "Well. Even more than I was."
Wen Qing sighs. "Alright, I get the picture." She gestures at him. "Stand up and let me have a look."
Her hands are gentle on his forearms, and her cultivation is softer and less obvious than Wen Ruohan's. Her brow furrows, and she steps a tiny bit closer.
"Gods have mercy," she mutters. "How are you still walking?"
"I beg your pardon?" Meng Yao asks.
"A-Ning," she says, apparently ignoring him, "I need six medium needles, two small needles, five numbing talismans, and two scar-dissolving talismans." Wen Qing herself releases his arms to gesture at the couch, which is more of a daybed, really. "Have a seat. I need to take a closer look at your feet."
Meng Yao sits, and kicks off his shoes when she gestures for him to. "The damage is bad, I understand."
Wen Qing drops to her knees. "You did a surprisingly good job with your ribs and wrist. It's everything else that's the problem." Her hands close around his left ankle and lift his foot up a bit. "For one, you've got cracks in the bones of both feet and ankles that are almost as old as you are. I would venture a guess that you probably tried to kick down a door, at age, hmmm," her eyes narrow, and the prickle of cultivation around his ankles intensifies. "...at around age six."
Meng Yao swallows. "When I was five, the Madam of the brothel locked me in a cupboard to try and keep me out of the way. She forgot about me, and she didn't tell anyone where I was, so I kicked the locked door off its hinges after six hours of waiting. The wood was sturdy, but I got out. Could that have done it?"
Xichen makes a little horrified noise.
"Yes," Wen Qing says. "That absolutely could have done it. And then you never stopped walking, which meant the cracks never got a chance to heal. So they're still there."
"What… what can be done about it?" Xichen asks, voice hoarse. He sits down on the couch next to Meng Yao, looking like he might cry.
"I can stimulate healing in this area. It will probably take eight or nine treatments for them to fully heal, and in between you would need to walk as little as possible."
Meng Yao sighs. "I can't just not walk. I have things to do." Like stealing the tiger seal, framing Xue Yang, and figuring out a way to kill his father. Fuck.
Wen Qing shoots him a look. "There are things that are much more pressing than your feet. Things that will also require treatment and rest to heal."
He suppresses the powerful urge to tell her to leave and give up on him. He can't rest. He can't just… take a break. They have a plan. They need to steal the stygian tiger seal and get it to Yanli. They need to find a way to rescue Nie Mingjue and Jin Zixuan. They need to make this whole corrupt system crumble, and Meng Yao isn't sure if he can do it without walking.
"Your right hip has a major crack in it, likely also from Carp Tower. Another injury that has been repeatedly re-traumatized for years. And then, there's the matter of the fracture in your lower spinal cord."
A fracture in his spine? Really? "I… did the spine injury also come from Carp Tower, do you think?"
She shakes her head, and stands up to sit on his other side. "Here, I'm going to touch your lower back." One hand settles in the curve of his back, and cultivation sweeps over him. Her hand is just barely above his ass. "No, this injury is much older than your ribs, and wrist. It is an incomplete fracture, with minimal damage to the surrounding nerves. I would venture it happened in your early teens. It is likely the cause of most of your leg and lower back pain."
Xichen frowns. "What kind of trauma could cause a fracture so low in the spine?"
She frowns thoughtfully. "Falling and landing in a sitting position. Something heavy falling from a decent height and striking him in the area, or a blow from a strong person."
Meng Yao wracks his head, but there are dozens of instances where he fell on his ass or was swatted so hard he went away bruised and limping in his early teens. He shrugs. "I don't know when it happened."
"Between the injuries to your feet, hip, and spine, I would want you on a strict no-walking policy for one week while I treat you," she says. "Something tells me you won't even consider that."
Xichen fixes him with wide, teary eyes. "A-Yao, you need to. You have to heal."
He can't deal with this, he really can't. "Three days," he bargains, stuck staring into Xichen's hopeful eyes.
"Six," Wen Qing shoots back.
"Four."
"Five."
He crosses his arms. "What will the world think, if I suddenly shut myself up for five days? What will my father think?" It's a weak argument, and he knows it. This was Wen Ruohan's idea in the first place.
"He'll be glad you're taking the time to get the care you need, you idiot," Wen Qing snaps. "You don't have to just sit in your room the whole time, either. So long as you don't put weight on your feet, you can sit in chairs or on cushions. And Zewu-jun seems to have no problem carrying you."
Xichen's eyes light up. Meng Yao fails to swallow a groan. "So, the solution is just to have my husband carry me everywhere? I fail to see how that helps preserve my dignity."
"I'm sure A-Ning or your father could take turns carrying you. You are quite small, my prince." Her eyes glimmer sharply. "So, five days of no walking, during which I will treat you with talismans and cultivation twice daily. After those five days you will require treatments once every other day for another week, and by then everything will hopefully be dealt with." She frowns. "However, the crack in your hip is very deep. I strongly doubt that it will ever be fully healed. I predict your spinal cord injury and feet injuries will heal completely, though."
Xichen nods, eyes wide. "Truly? Not even after many years?"
She shakes her head. "The amount of bone scarring is too severe."
Meng Yao shrugs. "That's alright. I've managed so far."
"There are three more injuries that I think will require attention, and soon," Wen Qing says. "One is your left lung. There is scar tissue on the outside of it, which is preventing you from taking a full breath because it limits the amount your lung can stretch."
Ah. Wen Zhuliu's sword, no doubt. "That was another injury I treated myself. A stab wound to the chest when I was nineteen."
"You could have died," she says simply. "Why didn't you go to a healer?"
He sighs, aggravated. "Well, I had just been banished from the Unclean Realm, and given what happened the last time I sought out a healer after being kicked out of a potential home while badly injured, forgive me if it wasn't the first thing on my mind."
Xichen squeezes his hand. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath.
Meng Yao has never heard him swear outside of sex. It startles a laugh out of him. "I lived. Apparently I'm rather hard to kill."
"Stubborn," Qionglin adds. He holds out a tray to his sister, which is covered in acupuncture needles and a few small, cleanly written talismans.
Wen Qing picks up one of the talismans. "These are for the scarring on your lung. If I can dissolve enough of the scar tissue to get you more lung capacity without surgery, that would be ideal."
"What are the needles for?" He asks, looking at them. He's never seen acupuncture needles this close before.
"Mostly for your shoulder, which is the worst injury by far." Her hand moves up his back to his right shoulder. "There is so much inflammation here, I can hardly tell what needs to be done. The needles will help bring that down, so I can take a better look." She looks to her brother. "A-Ning, hand me those needles."
Meng Yao nods as Qionglin hands over the needles in question. "That shoulder is where I feel the most pain. I also cannot raise it all the way, and it hurts to try."
"I see. That's to be expected, with such a bad injury. I suspect it has also healed quite poorly, which may be compounding the issue."
Each needle goes in with an odd crunching sensation that actually doesn't hurt. She places one a few inches under his shoulder blade, then one in his upper arm, one on his spine between his shoulders (and that one feels fucking bizarre but also doesn't hurt), one to the left side of his collarbone, and then the final two directly into the meat of his shoulder. He winces.
"A-Yao?"
"I'm alright," he assures his husband. "Just a little tender."
Wen Qing double checks her work. "Alright, this should help bring the inflammation down, but it will take a while to work. May I continue in my exam while we wait?"
Meng Yao nods. "Go ahead."
She sweeps her hand up to the back of his head. "The final concerning injury is a small dent in your skull. It is putting pressure on your brain. If you would allow me, I can rectify that now."
He blinks. "Right now?"
"Yes. It is a very small depression fracture, a bit older than the injuries from Carp Tower. There are no bone fragments in your brain, just the small dent. I can easily invert it with cultivation right now, and that should cause immediate improvement. It likely gives you headaches and, if left like this, can cause serious problems. It will also make wearing a guan much more comfortable."
He squeezes Xichen's hand. "Alright. Go ahead. Will it hurt?"
The healer takes two of the talismans from the larger stack. "These will numb the area. You will not feel any pain. But I do need you to take your hair down."
Xichen undoes his hair, slipping the guan free and tugging loose pins until his hair lays long and soft over his shoulders. "Is there anything else I can do to help?"
"Hold his hair," the healer commands. "A-Ning, watch closely. I don't think you've ever seen this procedure before."
Obediently, Qionglin comes to sit by his sister. She sorts carefully through his hair until she finds the dent, and carefully bares it. Meng Yao knows he has a sore spot and an impression about the size of his littlest finger on the back of his head, slightly to the left side, but he's so used to avoiding it while combing or washing his hair he often forgets about it completely.
Wen Qing methodically places the two talismans on the back of his skull and activates them. After a moment, she asks, "Can you feel that?"
"Feel what?"
"Good, you're numb. Alright, I'm going to fix it now. I need you to take a deep breath and hold it, my prince."
Meng Yao inhales deeply, and holds his breath, lungs full to bursting. He hears a very quiet pop and then a pressure he wasn't aware of is suddenly gone.
"All done, you can breathe."
His breath rushes out in a gust that sounds like an oh. "I didn't realize there was pressure on the back of my head."
She has him turn his head all the way to both sides, then up and down, before she removes the numbing talismans and allows Xichen to release his hair.
"Would it be alright if I braid his hair?" A-Huan asks.
Meng Yao is infinitely grateful Xichen brought up the subject. He doesn't like having his hair loose, it gets in the way and makes him self-conscious if anyone besides his husband sees him like this. All untidy and looking like he just woke up.
Wen Qing nods. "That's fine, I'm done with the head, give me one moment. Just braid it to one side, if you would. A-Ning, pass me one of the small needles."
Qionglin hands his sister a very fine needle, which she inserts into the nape of his neck carefully. "I'm going to leave that in until I leave, it will help prevent damage or pain from the blood rushing back to that area."
It doesn't feel like much of anything, which he didn't expect from having a needle inserted into his actual neck, but she's the expert. A-Huan carefully braids all his hair over his left shoulder and fastens it with a ribbon, and Meng Yao already feels better.
Wen Qing has him remove his robe so she can place the scar dissolving talismans on his chest. When she activates them, he can feel it. It's an odd melting sensation dripping down beneath his ribs, and it makes him cough.
Wen Qionglin puts his palm between the talismans. "Can you t-t-t-take a deep breath?"
He fills his lungs all the way, and then more, because something feels looser inside him.
"The talismans took c-care of three qu-qua-quarters of the scarring," he reports to his sister, who nods. She listens to his breathing both in his chest and his throat, then steps back looking satisfied.
"Well, I don't think you will need lung surgery, my prince."
Thank the gods.
Qionglin goes to check on his shoulder. His face blanches. "Ah…"
His shoulder is in bad shape, then. That's fine, he's dealt with it since he was fifteen.
"Mmhmm," Wen Qing says. She puts her hand next to her brothers. "Ah. Well."
"What is it?" Meng Yao snaps. He doesn't like that they won't say plainly what they're observing in him.
"Your sh-sh-shoulder blade is very badly damaged," Qionglin says.
"It seems the fall completely shattered it," Wen Qing says, more clinically than normal. "Did you perhaps catch most of your weight on your shoulder?"
Honestly, Meng Yao can't remember where most of his weight was. This is unusual for him. "I don't know. The memory is kind of blurry up until I was about halfway down the stairs." It pains him to admit it, that there is something he doesn't remember.
"You were p-p-probably in s-shock," Qionglin puts in. "It is to be expected."
Wen Qing's hand slowly moves down, her touch just gentle enough not to hurt. "It is a mess of scar tissue. There is little I can do. Due to the poor healing, most of the damage is permanent."
Xichen looks furious. "Nothing?" He demands in a soft, furious voice.
To her credit, Wen Qing just stares him down. "I said little, not none. There is much that can be done in regards to pain management. You mentioned that Zewu-jun used a healing technique that lessened the pain?"
Meng Yao nods. "Yes. It was very nice."
"I learned it to help ease the suffering of dying soldiers," A-Huan admits. "It is called Drawing and Draining."
"It can and should be used once every four days," she says. "Every other or perhaps a few days in a row if the weather is bad is permissible on rare occasion, but no more than that. I will also prescribe you a pain medication that you can take, so you may alternate treatments to avoid developing a tolerance for either one."
Meng Yao is glad to learn he wasn't being ridiculous, and there is a risk of the treatment becoming less effective.
"There is also nothing I can do to restore your range of motion," Wen Qing says. "The best advice I can offer is to avoid moving it in ways that hurt, and avoid re-injuring it or aggravating the old injury at all costs." The healer rests her hand on his uninjured shoulder. "Good, it seems like you don't compensate with your left arm much, if at all. Impressive."
"Thank you." Meng Yao knew it would be a mistake to just stop using his right arm because it hurt, back in the early days of the injury. He's glad for it now.
Qionglin writes out everything for him in his small and precise characters, everything from Wen Qing's assorted diagnoses to the treatments she gave today to those she recommends in the future.
"The pharmacist will be dropping off the medication sometime next week. For now, if you require pain relief, have Zewu-jun use his healing technique or come to me, and I will find you something."
Meng Yao opens his mouth, but is cut off by the odd sensation of the needle in the back of his neck being removed. "I--" he breaks off to hiss. "Hell that feels strange. I doubt I will need much pain relief, I am very good at distancing myself from my body."
"Well, don't deny yourself completely," Wen Qing remarks dryly. "I think you would benefit greatly from not being in pain every waking moment. But that is up to you."
She removes her needles from Meng Yao's shoulder as well, and tucks them away. "Now, I'd like to discuss the plan going forward in regards to healing your feet and spinal cord injury a bit more." She gives him a withering look. "Am I correct in assuming you refuse to begin the five days of no walking until after the conference is over?"
Meng Yao nods. If he has to be carried by his husband in front of Jin Guangshan, he will probably drop dead of sheer humiliation.
"Right, then, the day after the conference. I will come to your rooms again then, so we can begin the treatment."
"Would it be helpful if I try my best to keep him off his feet until then?" Xichen asks as stands to see them out. Meng Yao follows, feeling a bit shaky.
"As much as possible, both before and after the five days of treatment. I wish you the best of luck in that endeavor, Zewu-jun." She bows. "Have a good day, my prince."
Meng Yao turns to his husband with a sigh. "Not in front of people. Especially my father or anyone else in a major position of power."
"Alright," he agrees, much easier than Meng Yao expected. "I can carry you around our rooms, then?"
Gods above, this man. He sounds like a child begging for an extra serving of sweets, rather than an adult who was just told he would have to spend a good amount of time carrying his husband around.
"You… you really want to do this, don't you?" He says, baffled. What person would be so incredibly eager for a job like this? On the other hand, someone like Xichen would derive great pleasure from being able to help those close to him.
"I do," he says steadily. The look in his eyes is both gleeful and concerned.
"Why?"
He frowns thoughtfully. "I enjoy taking care of you, A-Yao. I like it when you let me help you."
Meng Yao folds his arms. "Yes, but why? Why do you enjoy taking care of me?"
"Because I love you," he responds in such an earnest tone it can be nothing but the truth. "I want to ease your pain. I want to make you feel good. And I want these things because I love you, like no other."
Ridiculous. This man is beyond ridiculous.
"I love you too, A-Huan," he says instead of the more obvious fact that no human being could possibly love Meng Yao that much.
Notes:
Is it obvious I know literally nothing about acupuncture besides that it makes weird crunchy noises when the needles go in? It probably is.
Chapter 22: Someone has lured the emperor's defense away purposefully, to get a clear shot at him
Summary:
The conference wraps up on a very dramatic note.
Notes:
Warning:This chapter contains a brief mention of a trans man who committed suicide after discovering he was pregnant and a whole lot of speculation on whether a major character is trans or not.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
On the third and final day of the conference, everything seems a bit. Well, tense.
The guests for this final day are just now starting to file in to the throne room. Wen Ruohan does not have any of his concubines with him today, he sits alone in his throne. Apparently even concubines get days off, which Meng Yao was not aware of. Meng Yao is the only one with a human cushion today, which somehow doesn't make him feel out of place. His husband always takes eagerly to the role anyway. But Xichen is certainly the most comfortable seeming person in the room, everyone else is jumpy and on-edge.
Meng Yao can deduce that something happened on the second day, when neither he nor A-Huan were present. Wen Qing doesn't attend these types of things, nor does Caihong, and Daiyu has expressed discomfort at the idea of trying to recount whatever happened. That itself is enough to make Meng Yao worry. That, and the fact that the gossip going around is frankly bizarre. Most of it seems to revolve around Jin Zixuan being pregnant, which has Meng Yao baffled.
If he hadn't seen Jin Zixuan's naked body with his own eyes, Meng Yao would have assumed that he was a misaligned reincarnation, a man born with a womb and without a penis, much like one expects a woman to be. Except that Meng Yao has (quite unfortunately) seen Jin Zixuan completely bare several times before, and knows without a shadow of a doubt that he has a functioning cock.
Maybe it's another of the strange magics the Jin have apparently been hiding from the rest of the world, along with the knowledge of creating cauldrons and furnaces. Maybe they know of a way to bring body and soul into closer alignment, whether through surgical or cultivational means.
But then-- wouldn't they have removed his womb, or at least rendered it infertile, during that process? Would there even still be an opening, assuming the organ remained there and functional?
He drags himself out of his thoughts with a pinch to the arm. He's just running himself in circles. Even if Jin Zixuan is misaligned and capable of getting pregnant, what would that change? Nothing, it would change absolutely nothing.
Meng Yao isn't thinking about Peng Kai, back at the brothel, body dangling from the rafters of his room because he found out he was pregnant. Peng Kai isn't the standard for all misaligned men. Just because he ran into the arms of death upon discovering a pregnancy doesn't mean Jin Zixuan will. So what if he'd lit up when tiny Meng Yao at age six had called him 'Kai-gege'? He died years ago. Meng Yao is over it.
A-Huan puts his hand over Meng Yao's. I can feel you thinking. You are worried about Jin Zixuan.
Do you think it's possible that Jin Zixuan is misaligned?
A-Huan blinks at him. As in, a man in the body of a woman?
Meng Yao resolutely flicks away the many explanations he remembers from Peng Kai, so long ago. Essentially.
I don't think so. Is it because of the rumours?
Yes.
Xichen taps his chin. There's someone talking, but not to them, so Meng Yao tunes it out. Wen Qing may know. You don't have an array with her though, do you?
He doesn't. The communication arrays have to be written on a specific and rare kind of rice paper, and Meng Yao only has been able to acquire enough for two, the one he shares with Xichen and the one he shares with Daiyu. The only person in all of Qishan who has the paper is Wen Qisen, yet another member of Wen Ruohan's guard. The cultivator apparently takes a talismanic focus to his work, and that is literally all Meng Yao knows about him. He's seen the man several times, guarding Wen Ruohan, but he's never once spoken to Meng Yao. He's fairly certain he won't be able to get the paper from him, nor find out where he purchases it. And if he asks his father for it, then surely he'll want to know what Meng Yao needs it for.
It's exhausting, predicting the future constantly.
A messenger approaches the dais quietly and darts up the stairs. She whispers something into the emperor's ear, and his face stiffens.
"Fuhe, Tieyun, you're needed in the dungeon," he says. The two guards bow and rush out of the room, and their hasty departure draws much more attention than the quiet messengers did.
"Is everything well?" Jin Guangshan asks.
Wen Ruohan waves his hand. "Yes. Continue."
Meng Yao wants to squirm. He has an odd feeling in his chest. It isn't that strange for Wen Ruohan to dispatch members of his personal guard to see to things around the palace, but to send two of them to the same problem? That is unheard of.
Xichen warned him that the third day would be mostly politicking and kissing up, and rather boring. Thus far it's been anything but, watching all the gentry pile on mask after mask and hide their cruelty under pretty clothes has him too riled up to be bored. And now, something has happened that needs the attention of two of the emperor's personal guards.
Another messenger approaches not a half hour later, a different one this time. The boy isn't as good at whispering his message, so Meng Yao overhears some of it.
"Quarters… breached…"
Wen Ruohan clenches his fists, and sends Chu Bingwen, Zhan Xingxi, and Ru Minyu to take care of whatever the problem is.
Meng Yao makes eye contact with his father, who shrugs minutely. Later, he'll have to wait to hear about it later.
A-Yao? Did you see that? Xichen writes in the matrix.
See what?
At the head of the Jin table, left of Jin Guangshan. Xichen jerks his chin slightly.
Meng Yao looks, and sees… something. A flicker, like a heat mirage almost.
What is that? He writes, confused. He's never seen anything like it before.
I think it's a masking talisman of some kind. I think there's a hidden person standing or sitting right next to him.
The flickering is very odd, though subtle. Meng Yao has no idea how his husband spotted it in the first place. As he watches, it moves. Toward the dais. To stand at the bottom of the stairs.
A wave of anxiety washes over him. Taking stock, he realizes that the dais is sorely lacking in defense. Only Longwei remains on the platform with them, the other guards all having been sent elsewhere. Daiyu sits in her customary spot at the side of the stairs, but the flickering shape is approaching from the other side. Songgen and Qisen are both much too far away to reach quickly. Shuili and Xianbian are closer, but more in position to defend the room from outside attacks than the dais itself from something internal. And Ziran is by the doors, quite far away.
This was planned. It has to have been. Someone has lured the emperor's defense away purposefully, to get a clear shot at him.
He doesn't think, he only moves, when he sees the flickering shape stretch out and something small and shiny goes whistling through the air. Meng Yao springboards off Xichen, who apparently was thinking along the same lines enough to boost him with a light palm strike to the sole of his foot. It's the only reason he gets there in time to catch the gleaming throwing dagger, the blade dripping with something clear and foul-smelling. Whether it is luck or skill, he catches it by the handle less than a foot from Wen Ruohan's chest, half-stretched out over his father's lap. His knees impact the side of the throne, hard, but he barely feels the pain.
Xichen dives headfirst down the stairs and tackles the shimmering shape in a whirl of blue qi. For a startling moment his husband appears to be wrestling with empty air, and then there is a sizzling sound and a man appears. Once he can see his opponent, Xichen has an easier time pinning down his arms and pressing Shuoyue to his throat.
The room erupts into chaos.
"QUIET!!" Daiyu bellows, but it does nothing.
Meng Yao's gaze travels from A-Huan to the dagger in his hand to his father, pushing himself off the armrest of the throne to stand up straight. Wen Ruohan is wide-eyed and a bit paler than normal.
"A-die," Meng Yao says, lowering the dagger to his side. "I think someone just tried to kill you."
And Meng Yao stopped them. He and Xichen stopped them. They protected the life of the man they've been plotting to kill for weeks.
Fuck.
Wen Ruohan looks at the dagger. He raises a hand to touch Meng Yao's wrist and lift his arm up. "It... you did not get cut, did you?" He asks quietly.
"No."
The emperor exhales, long and slow. He stands up, and Meng Yao notices the tremor in him just a moment before it's banished. He puts one hand on his shoulder, his good shoulder because Wen Ruohan always seems to be aware of his bad one, and gives him a brief one-armed hug that leaves Meng Yao staggering.
"QUIET!" Daiyu shouts again, and this has a slightly stronger effect.
It takes a bit more shouting to get everyone calm again. Once they do settle, Wen Ruohan releases Meng Yao and descends the stairs to stand beside A-Huan, still pinning the assassin to the ground.
"Well done, Huan'er," he praises, and Xichen looks up with a stricken expression.
Qisen slaps a body-binding talisman on the man, which allows A-Huan to get up. He sheathes Shuoyue, and looks up at Meng Yao.
Are you alright, A-Yao?
I'm fine.
Daiyu, Shuili, and Longwei are all directly at the emperor's side. Meng Yao descends the stairs to join them, still holding the dripping dagger, and takes his place between Xichen and his father.
He kneels down. "This is the first attempt on my life since I became the emperor. What do you have to say for yourself?"
The assassin's eyes dart nervously. His clothes are very fine, but something about them makes Meng Yao pause and cringe away. It isn't the color or the symbolism that marks them as Jin clothes to him, the robes are a plain gray and have no motif. It's a line of clean, X-shaped stitching along the side seams of the robe.
"Mama, what are you doing?" Five-year-old Meng Yao asked his mother. She had a large swath of fabric over her lap, and was doing something to reinforce the side seams.
"This is a sewing technique used by your father's family," she said, beckoning him to her. "It helps make the seams stronger, so their clothes do not rip in battle." Meng Shi grabbed the two sides of the seam and tugged, and the little cross-shaped stitches distributed the tension more than enough to prevent a rip.
Meng Yao, who was nothing if not observant and precocious and eager to learn at age five, reached out for his mother's sewing. "Teach me."
There was a moment that Meng Shi hesitated, thinking to say that sewing was not a gentlemanly skill his father would expect him to have. But her son's eyes were big and pleading and curious. He had his mother's memory, and his mother's desire to know how everything and everyone worked.
"Alright, A-Yao. First you have to thread the needle…"
"This man is a Jin," twenty-one-year-old Meng Yao says, eyes on those neat lines of X-shaped stitches.
Wen Ruohan raises an eyebrow. "Yes. Do you not know his face?"
"Jin Zixun," A-Huan says. "Jin Guangshan's nephew."
Oh. Meng Yao knew of his existence, but he has never seen his face until now.
"I have never met him before," Meng Yao says. "I recognized the stitching on the seams of his robes as one the Jin often use."
Wen Ruohan blinks at him. "Fascinating. If his clothing is of Jin make but without the markings of the clan…" he trails off, then looks to the Jin table. "Guangshan, what is the meaning of this?"
Jin Guangshan, who is white as milk, stares at them. "I have no idea," he says, trembling and red-faced.
Jin Zixun's face falls. "Uncle, don't just abandon me!"
Meng Yao looks down at him. "So, your uncle put you up to this?" He narrows his eyes. "I would suggest you think carefully before lying."
Jin Zixun's eyes dart wildly back and forth. "He said-- uncle said that if I could-- he would make me his heir if I could--"
"Lies!" Jin Guangshan jumps to his feet. "Clearly the boy acted on his own. I made no such promise!"
Wen Ruohan takes a few steps toward him, a measuring look in his eyes. "Detain him," he says with a gesture to Wen Qisen.
The guard throws another body-locking talisman, and it flies across the table to attach to Jin Guangshan's chest.
"Your excellency--"
Wen Ruohan shoves the single cultivator who seems willing to defend Jin Guangshan down to the floor. "Guangshan," he says, voice low and angry, "after everything I've given you, everything I've done, this is how you repay me?"
The other man's eyes flash. "You made a mockery of me!" He cries, and then his eyes fill with tears. "I-- I didn't--"
The emperor slaps him, and the force of it sends him flying into the wall.
"This conference is over," he announces. "Shuili, Qisen, take Jin Guangshan. The rest of you, and Yao'er and Huan'er, with me."
Longwei holds out a hand to Meng Yao. "I'll take the dagger. Bingwen will be wanting to take a look at it, I'm sure."
More than glad to get rid of it, he hands the dagger over. Longwei holds it up to the light, hums thoughtfully, and then wraps it in a long strip of cloth he produces from his sleeve.
Xichen sheaths his sword, and offers Meng Yao his arm. He looks slightly shell-shocked. If you hadn't caught that dagger, Wen Ruohan would be dead.
He knows. He saved this tyrant's life. It was possibly the stupidest thing he's ever done.
I'm sorry, he writes, because he doesn't know what else to say. It was-- I don't know, instinct, I don't know.
Xichen takes Meng Yao's hand and wraps it around his elbow, when Meng Yao shows no sign of doing it himself. I'm not angry. I think this was an attempted coup by the Jin. To be frank, Jin Guangshan would be an even worse emperor than Wen Ruohan.
The heavy weight that Meng Yao has been carrying since he caught the dagger shifts off his shoulders. A-Huan isn't angry with him. He hasn't betrayed their plan, not by stopping an attempted coup. He can do this. This is good, actually. He and his husband saved the emperor's life today, this will put them even closer to him in terms of trust. And it's a harsh lesson in why they can't be hasty with their own plan.
They leave the throne room, ensconced by Wen Ruohan's guards. Qisen and Shuili drag Jin Guangshan, while Xianbian has Jin Zixun slung over one shoulder. Fuhe and Tieyun are the first to meet up with them, in the hallway outside the throne room.
"The uprising has been quelled with no losses or damages," Fuhe reports, and then he spots Jin Guangshan and his face goes white.
"It seems that the prison break was orchestrated specifically to lure away as many of my guards as possible," the emperor says. "I would bet the escape of my concubines was also engineered for such a purpose."
Meng Yao blinks. The concubines escaped? All of them?
"Bingwen sent me a talisman message informing me that they recaptured A-Xuan about five minutes ago," Tieyun replies, and Meng Yao's heart sinks. "A-Cheng was caught just before him. Minyu is still hunting A-Jue, but he won't get far." He runs his cheek. "The talisman said that there were four men aiding them in their escape. The culprits were all wearing Jin garb. Xingxi shot two of them dead from your balcony. Minyu killed another. As far as I know, the fourth is still on the run with A-Jue, but I doubt they will outrun Minyu."
A terrifying smile spreads over Wen Ruohan's face, and he looks to Jin Guangshan. "Well. This was very clever, wasn't it?" He taps the former sect leader on the nose. "How lucky I am to have a son with such quick reflexes."
Something in Meng Yao twists. The praise feels good, infinitely good, but guilt stops him from fully enjoying it.
Should he have caught the dagger? He could have just let it go, he could have, and then… assuming that the Jin were half decent with poison, the emperor would be dead. The plan that Meng Yao has been working on for so long would be fulfilled. But maybe not, because if the Jin could claim to have liberated them from Wen rule, nothing would be able to stop them from becoming the new royal family. Meng Yao would be next on the chopping block, and A-Huan… with the way Jin Guangshan looked at his husband, Meng Yao knows exactly what would happen to his beloved.
He did the right thing. If he hadn't caught that dagger, A-Huan would be catapulted into a life of misery.
So he turns to his father and bows. "It was mostly reflex," he says, aiming for modesty. "A-Huan noticed an odd sense of movement by the Jin table and nudged me to look in that direction. He also assisted me in being able to jump so far. Without his help I doubt I would have reached you in time."
Wen Ruohan smiles, wide and genuine, and abandons Jin Guangshan to put both hands on Meng Yao's shoulders.
"Well done. Thank you, Yao'er. This father is very fortunate to have you."
His knees turn to water and he almost collapses, everything is bright and shining and beautiful.
His father pats his head, as if dealing some kind of final blow. "Shhh, you're alright," he whispers. Then he turns to Xichen. "And you, I appreciate how quickly you caught and subdued Jin Zixun. Truly, my son and his husband are an exceptional couple."
"Exceptional beyond compare," Wen Fuhe puts in. "You have made me very proud, my nephew."
Jin Guangshan snorts, and starts to say something, but Shuili's sword presses a white line under his chin.
"Hmm? Do you have something to say?" Shuili asks, voice dripping with false sincerity.
"If you speak one vile word about my son I will cut your tongue out," Wen Ruohan says evenly.
Meng Yao is still feeling slightly faint.
"Daiyu, Ziran, I want the two of you with Huoyao and Xichen until we can be sure there will be no further attempts," the emperor continues. "Escort them back to their rooms, and pick a few others you trust to keep an eye on the area. I will keep you posted."
"Yes, your excellency," Ziran says.
"I will get in contact with my sister to pick the most trustworthy of our guards," Daiyu promises. Meng Yao had quite forgotten that Daiyu's younger sister Shi Mingxia is one of the five captains in Nightless City.
Chu Bingwen rounds the corner and joins them, eyebrows raised. "Your excellency, we have recaptured A-Jue. Minyu and Xingxi are taking him back to your quarters as we speak. The final Jin agent who assisted in the escape was also captured alive." He looks at Jin Guangshan and Jin Zixun. "What happened?"
The emperor explains once again, and Chu Bingwen's eyes widen. "Show me the dagger."
Longwei produces it from his sleeve, still wrapped in cloth. "Here, didi. I tried not to let the poison on it drip everywhere."
The poison master unwraps it, sniffs the blade, and grimaces. "Some kind of snake venom." His frown deepens, and Meng Yao is faintly aware he's examining the drippy substance with some strange cultivation technique. "No. Stonefish venom. Extremely concentrated. Enough to cause death within a few hours, with little a healer could do, especially if the dagger pierced the chest or neck." He wraps the dagger up again. "I'll dispose of it. No one was pricked?"
Longwei shakes his head. "The only people who handled the dagger were myself and the prince, who caught it." Longwei holds out his hands, and the younger guard inspects them, then nods.
"No wounds." He turns to face Meng Yao. "For the love of all that's good in the world, tell me you caught it by the handle, or I'll have to cut your hand off."
Next to him, Xichen makes a low growling noise.
"I caught it by the handle," Meng Yao says, uncertain if he's being threatened.
Apparently unsatisfied, Bingwen crosses his arms, the well-wrapped dagger vanishing into a qiankun bag he pulls from his sleeve. "Show me your hands. Both of them."
When Meng Yao hesitates, Wen Ruohan speaks up. "Do as he says. I will not risk your safety."
Reluctantly, Meng Yao withdraws his hand from A-Huan's elbow and holds them both out to Bingwen. He examines both palms, then pushes his sleeves up to check his wrists and forearms.
"No cuts or punctures," he finally says, releasing Meng Yao.
There is a visible lessening of tension in everyone, which surprises him. Had the emperor's entire guard really been so worried?
"Right," Wen Ruohan says. "Good."
Longwei looks at Jin Guangshan. "What is the plan with the prisoners?"
"This wasn't done alone, obviously someone inside the palace gave these traitors information," Wen Ruohan says. "I'll see to Jin Guangshan's interrogation myself. Are any of you interested in his nephew?"
Jin Zixun shudders.
"Well, he isn't nearly as fair as his cousin," Tieyun observes, "but my bed has been lonely as of late. I'll take him, and he'll tell me everything I need to know."
"Good. He's heavy," Xianbian grouses, and passes the limp assassin to the other guard.
"Once you've all finished with your work, come to my quarters, if you can," the emperor says. "Longwei, Fuhe, Xianbian, and Xingxi will guard my rooms tonight."
"I must insist that my husband and I join in," Shuili interjects. "I am concerned that there will be another attempt."
His personal guards are so loyal. Meng Yao is continually surprised by their fierce devotion, and the genuine friendship Wen Ruohan seems to have with each and every one of them. And the nearly familial bond they have with each other. Longwei called Bingwen 'didi'. Fuhe calls the emperor 'Han-ge'.
"Alright," he relents. "If anyone else finds themselves concerned, go guard Huoyao's quarters instead. I will have more than enough protection."
Everyone nods, seeming satisfied.
"Dismissed."
They separate. Tieyun hauls a loudly protesting and still immobilized Jin Zixun in one direction. Chu Bingwen follows him, muttering about dilution and how long stonefish venom takes to denature. Daiyu and Ziran come to stand on either side of him and Xichen, while the rest of the guard follows Wen Ruohan, carting Jin Guangshan with them.
"They're going to the dungeon, I expect," Ziran says. "Come, my prince, let's get you and your husband back to your rooms. Daiyu, have you sent a talisman to your sister?"
She nods. "Mingxia will be coming by within the hour, with four extra guards she trusts to station around Huoyao's rooms."
Ziran nods. "Good."
It's a bit awkward to have Ziran there, Meng Yao doesn't know him very well. He's the third ranked in his father's guard, after Fuhe and Longwei. He was a battlefield medic during Sunshot. He doesn't openly carry a sword, but Meng Yao himself rarely carries his sword openly either. That's all he knows.
"You are very observant," he says as they walk. "You could tell Jin Zixun was a Jin merely by looking at the stitch work on his robes?"
Meng Yao holds a bit tighter to Xichen's arm. "Yes."
"If I may be so bold, how did you come to be familiar with Jin methods of garment construction?" He's obviously trying to make conversation, but Meng Yao doesn't particularly want to talk about this.
"My mother made clothes in her spare time. She was very well-versed in a diverse array of stitches and methods, and taught me many of them."
Ziran hums. "I see. Your mother sounds like she had many talents." It doesn't come across like an insult, he sounds genuinely impressed. "She also was a musician of some renown, am I correct?"
He almost stops walking, he's so startled. "Yes. How did you know that?"
"I went with the last group to Yunping, before your wedding, to search for Madam Sisi. As you know, we found no trace of her, but I did get to hear a great deal of Meng Shi."
Meng Yao swallows a laugh. "The people of Yunping remember my mother's music?"
He nods. "Several did, actually."
That is surprising information. He imagined his mother would be remembered more for the sexual services she provided than the entertainment or hosting ones.
"There was also a man who had some rather lewd things to say about her flute skills, so I blinded him. I doubt anyone will be speaking ill of her after that."
This time Meng Yao does stop walking.
A-Yao? Are you alright?
He takes a deep breath. Slowly, he turns to Wang Ziran. "...thank you."
He smiles. "It was an honor, my prince." Ziran folds his hands in his robe, probably to hold onto his weapon as they pass into the open area between the Fire Palace proper and Meng Yao's rooms. All of Wen Ruohan's personal guard are exceptional or bizarrely skilled in some way, and since Ziran doesn't openly carry a weapon, Meng Yao can only assume it's something more easily concealed. Maybe he uses only talismans, like Qisen. He's not sure. He should probably look into that more.
Daiyu holds the door for them. If it were just her, Meng Yao would invite her inside for tea, but he doesn't want Ziran in his rooms. He isn't one of their allies. It doesn't matter that he defended his mother's memory. Ziran is his enemy, and he cannot forget about that.
Notes:
It's here, the day you've probably all been waiting for! Today we learned what the heck the Jin have been up to.
Curious about what happened on the mysterious second day of the conference? You and Meng Yao have something in common. However, unlike Meng Yao you can click this link and find out, if you want. As always, this extra is certainly not essential, and not for the faint of heart. Take care of yourselves my friends.
But wait! There's more! Coming soon will be what, exactly, happens with Wen Ruohan, Jin Guangshan, and crew behind closed doors.
Also, there is a (small) secret in the comments
Chapter 23: If Xue Yang is already taking special interest in the tiger seal…
Summary:
Meng Yao's treatments for his injuries begin. Xue Yang has questions, and Xichen experiences a new emotion.
Notes:
There is a sex scene between Xiyao at the end of this chapter. It contains like half a second of blood kink, but it's super soft, very loving, and enthusiasticly consensual. If you aren't interested in reading the sex scene, you should stop reading at He's carried to the bedroom.
Chapter Text
The next morning dawns cold, and finds Meng Yao tired in spite of having slept.
"You were not resting peacefully," Xichen explains. "You whimpered and tossed your head back and forth, and murmured. I was eventually able to calm you by holding you, but I imagine you got very little actual sleep."
Meng Yao squeezes his husband's arm. He doesn't remember having nightmares, but it makes sense that he did. He usually does. "Thank you, A-Huan. In the future it might just be easier to wake me up, so you can get to sleep yourself."
"I would rather let you get back to sleep. I rest very well when holding you, anyway," Xichen retorts with a little grin.
He's been put on couch arrest, after his husband carried him from the bedroom and out to the sitting room for breakfast. He got dressed sitting down. Meng Yao has only been awake an hour and he is already fed up with this not-walking thing.
One of Meng Yao's informants comes to bring him news and letters as they're finishing breakfast. The young woman passes Xichen a few papers and scurries away without even waiting for Meng Yao to pay her. Apparently, one is a note from his father, one is a quick summary of some recent happenings within the cultivators of Nightless City, and the third is a toxicology report from Chu Bingwen, who seems to be trying genuinely to make friends with Meng Yao.
It won't work. Chu Bingwen sets his teeth on edge and that will never change.
"'Mu Fenyan has been dispatched with her army to Lanling'," Xichen reads off the note from Wen Ruohan. "Who is Mu Fenyan?"
"The head general. If Wen Ruohan sent her, he must mean to completely destroy Lanling." Mu Fenyan is one of the few warriors in Qishan Meng Yao can stand to spend time around, as she seems to lack the inherent joy her comrades show in destroying and conquering.
"I see. So when Wen Ruohan sends her in particular, he means business, then?'
"Yes. General Mu has a reputation for being ruthless and extremely thorough, though she seems to take no joy in it." Meng Yao sighs. "I'm surprised my father keeps someone around who doesn't love to torture as much as he does. It's probably due to her competency."
Xichen reads a bit further on the paper. "'Jin Guangshan and his son are being punished appropriately,'" he says. "I had no idea Jin Zixuan was involved in the coup attempt."
Frowning, Meng Yao considers it. "Hm, neither did I. Perhaps my father meant Jin Zixun, and accidentally wrote son instead of nephew?"
"Ah. That makes more sense." Xichen sets down the letter. "Are the common people of Lanling in much danger?"
Meng Yao swallows. He hates giving A-Huan bad news. "I… suspect there will be mass slaughter. While Fenyan isn't outright cruel, Wen Ruohan is, and she is very loyal. If he told her to lay waste to Lanling, she absolutely will lay waste to Lanling. Completely."
Xichen sighs, rubbing his temples. "Well. We can't save everyone."
Their next visitor is Wen Qing, right around lunch time. She breezes in to give Meng Yao his first treatment, which she warns him will involve far too many needles in the soles of his feet, several talismans clustered around his ankles, and almost an hour of the healer running her hands over his feet, legs, and back.
Surprisingly, Wen Qing brings Jiang Yanli with her.
"Here," she says, joining Xichen at the table while Wen Qing tends to Meng Yao on the couch. She sets down a large pot on the table. "I was able to obtain some lotus root, therefore I felt obligated to make my pork and lotus soup." She sets out several bowls, and Xichen trips over himself, as much as a person who is sitting down can, to help her. Meng Yao fails to subdue his snort, but is distracted by that odd crunch of the first needle sliding into his foot.
"Hold still, my prince," Wen Qing says dryly.
Meng Yao holds still, and allows Jiang Yanli to bring him a bowl of soup, and allows the healer to prod and poke him and move him around.
"You look tired, miss Jiang," Xichen points out.
She does look tired. There are faint dark spots under her eyes. She moves with the slow delicacy of a person who is aware their fine motor skills are not currently at their best.
Her smile is still warm and radiantly calming though. "Channeling the resentful energy gets easier the more I practice, so I keep needing to push myself harder. I don't want to be overwhelmed when I have the seal in hand."
"It's my idea," Wen Qing puts in. "We will be hiding it right under Wen Ruohan's nose, we will need to be able to contain it."
Meng Yao nods. "Reasonable."
"Do not push yourself too hard," Xichen says. "If you become ill, things will only get worse."
"I know. I am being careful." Jiang Yanli takes the bowl from Meng Yao's hand. He's not sure when he finished his soup. "Are you nearly done, A-Qing?"
"Nearly," she says. Fifteen minutes later she declares this first round of treatment done, removes her needles, and stands up.
"A-Cheng gets to visit me today for dinner," Yanli says. "Hopefully he will be able to give us a better picture of what happened last night."
"Or not," Xichen puts in. "Perhaps he was spared having to participate."
Jiang Yanli gives him a hard look. "You know as well as I do that that is not very likely, Zewu-jun."
He looks down at his hands. "We can only hope," he mutters quietly.
"Make sure you get plenty of rest," Wen Qing says as she and Yanli prepare to leave. "Nap now, if you can. The healing process will take up a lot of your energy, and you will feel tired. That's normal; sleep when you feel like sleeping."
Meng Yao curls into his husband's side, glad to know there is a reason he feels so worn out. When Xichen tells him to sleep, he does, propped up right there against him on the floor.
Meng Yao wakes an uncertain amount of time later spread out on the soft reclining sofa, to the sound of someone knocking. Xichen gently lifts his head out of his lap and goes to answer it. A woven throw blanket is spread over him.
"Yes, thank you," Xichen says in response to whatever the person at the door is muttering to him. "I will. You are dismissed."
"What is it?" Meng Yao asks, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"The pharmacist, dropping off your new medication," he explains, setting down a thick linen bag on the table. "She said there were--"
He's cut off by another knock. Xichen has no time to go and answer it, because the door opens a moment later and Xue Yang strides in.
Xichen is on his feet in an instant, sword half unsheathed. Meng Yao, slowed by sleep and weariness, sheds the blanket onto the floor and sits up. He reaches out for Hensheng, on her stand by the wall rather than in his sleeve. She comes sluggishly, as if she's as tired as he is.
Xue Yang laughs. He doesn't take out his bizarre sword or reach for a talisman. "Oh, relax, lovebirds. Did I interrupt something?"
Xichen's eyes narrow. He's placed himself bodily between Meng Yao and their unexpected guest. "It is usually considered polite to at least wait for the door to be answered before barging in." He lowers Shuoyue. "What can we do for you?"
Xue Yang sits down on one of the cushions around their table. "I'm not allowed to visit my Yao-ge?" He pouts. "You can't just take him away from the rest of us, Zewu-jun!"
Meng Yao withdraws a sugar stick from the secret stash he has behind the couch and waves it at him. "Let me guess. You wanted one of these."
Eyes glittering, Xue Yang makes to dodge around Xichen to snatch it from his hand, but his husband is quicker. He catches Xue Yang and shoves him back, making him stumble an impressive distance.
"A-Yao is resting," he says firmly. He takes the sugar stick from Meng Yao and passes it to Xue Yang.
He snatches it, then takes a few steps back with offended wariness in his eyes. "Thanks, you possessive freak. But I actually do have a real reason to be here." He chomps off a piece of the stick and swirls it around in his mouth. "I need your brain, Yao-ge. I have this idea to enhance the emperor's control over his corpses and I want a second pair of eyes." He spreads out a few papers, covered completely in messy scrawl, on the table. He beckons Meng Yao.
I'd rather not be carried in front of him, he writes to Xichen, feeling oddly small.
After a moment, his husband relents. Alright. It isn't far from the couch to the table.
Sighing, Meng Yao sits next to him. Xue Yang, much like a student wanting an assignment checked before handing it to the teacher, has a long-standing habit of making Meng Yao check his theories and ideas before giving them to the emperor. Since the end of the war, he thought Xue Yang was no longer experimenting with the Yin Iron to the quite the same degree, of the same ends.
He looks the papers over. Xue Yang's focus does seem to have shifted a bit since the war ended. His experiments now are going in every possible direction and two Meng Yao was (and still is) sure were impossible. To his surprise, most of the blueprints aren't focused on the Yin iron. Instead they heavily feature the stygian tiger seal.
What an opportunity. He can use this. If Xue Yang is already taking special interest in the tiger seal…
"I was thinking about the ways that Wei Wuxian used it," he says, twirling the sugar stick that is less than half its original length now. "Without being in direct contact with it, even being yards away from it while fighting."
Xue Yang goes on and on about how the tiger seal works best when the two halves are separated, what does Meng Yao think about storing them differently than they are now, and so on. He isn't really listening. Occasionally he gives a grunt that the delinquent will interpret however he wants to, but mostly his mind is racing.
He's already interested in the tiger seal, he writes to Xichen. This simplifies things.
Xichen doesn't write back. He comes to sit at Meng Yao's side and stare into Xue Yang's soul, one hand on Meng Yao's thigh.
Two hours of going over and over and over the little delinquent's bizarre ideas later, Xue Yang is apparently satisfied and tucks his papers back inside his sleeve. He then extends a hand. "Another sugar stick."
Meng Yao rolls his eyes, but stands up. Xichen doesn't protest, but Meng Yao's feet do. They're sore from the treatment and the pressure is painful. He sits back down on the couch and grabs a second sugar stick, enjoying the reprieve for a brief moment, before standing and going back to the table.
"I am the prince. You don't get to order me around."
Xue Yang makes grabby hands at the sugar stick. "Hand it over, gege."
"If I do, will you leave me and my husband in peace, you absolute monster?" Meng Yao dangles the sugar stick over his head. It's a ridiculous taunt, since Xue Yang is a full head taller than Meng Yao when standing, which he demonstrates by jumping up and snatching the candy right out of his hand.
"Heh. You're so cute." He pats Meng Yao on the head, which at least tells him that the odd result of melting into a happy puddle by having his head touched seems to be limited to Wen Ruohan. "If you wanted to be alone so bad, you could've just asked."
Xichen gives an exasperated sigh. He's still hovering behind Meng Yao like a particularly beautiful shadow. "Normally a guest makes sure they are welcome before entering someone's private quarters and demanding time and attention."
Xue Yang snickers, looking delighted. "You are jealous! Zewu-jun! I didn't know you had it in you!" He shoves the sugar stick in his mouth. "Guess you can't have the world knowing you're human after all," he mutters around the mouthful.
Xue Yang is treading on dangerous ground, deliberately trying to upset his husband while he is already unbalanced. Xichen doesn't like getting angry, so he will have to head this off. Meng Yao plasters the most sugary, gooey, fake smile he has in his arsenal on his face, folds his hands in his sleeves politely, and turns to Xue Yang. "How is Daozhang Xiao Xingchen?"
Xue Yang stops needling Xichen to glower at him.
Meng Yao shrugs, keeping the smile on his face. He knows Xue Yang knows it's the fakest shit he's ever done. That's half the point. "You've taken an interest in my husband, the rules of conversation and propriety dictate I take interest in yours--" he cuts himself off, tutting softly. "Well, the closest thing you'll ever have to a husband."
Scowling, Xue Yang rounds on him.
Meng Yao widens his eyes innocently, plastering his most helpful and earnest expression all over his face. "Oh, you seem upset. Are the rumors true then?"
"What rumours?" Xue Yang snaps.
"That he's dead," Meng Yao stage whispers. "That you killed him the first day he was here."
Xue Yang looks blatantly shocked for a moment.
"What are people supposed to think? No one has seen or heard him in weeks." Meng Yao shrugs. "And, well. Everyone knows how you can… lose control sometimes."
"He's alive," the delinquent snaps. "And I'm going to marry him."
Meng Yao is so startled he laughs. "Daozhang Xiao Xingchen doesn't want to marry you." He's positive the rogue cultivator would rather die a thousand deaths. Would rather be torn apart by wolves. Would rather his soul be destroyed to never reincarnate.
"I'm working on that," Xue Yang snaps. "You can't possibly expect me to believe that the most eligible bachelor in the world just dropped everything and fell head-over-heels for your ass, pretty as it is, without you doing something shifty. Especially after servicing half of Qinghe, you're hardly the virgin bride he--"
The rest of whatever he's about to say is lost in a choking sound, when Xichen almost flies across the space between them to close his hand around Xue Yang's throat. Jiangzai appears in his hand, but Xichen swats it across the room like a fly.
"I don't care how useful you are," he snarls in a furious tone Meng Yao has never heard before, "you do not speak to my husband like that." He lets go, and around Xue Yang's neck is a darkening purple bruise. "If you say anything to him again of that effect, anything cruel or demeaning at all, I will kill you with my bare hands and deal with the consequences."
Xue Yang looks at him for a long moment and then bursts out laughing. It's a dry, rickety laugh. "Look at you!" He croaks. "Took getting kicked out to make you grow a spine." He prods the bruise on his neck. "That's hot. Nobody's left a mark on me like that before even when I begged for it. Better hold on tight to your man, Yao-ge, or I might sweep him right out from under your nose."
Xichen bares his teeth. He points to the door. "Out." Taking a step forward, blue qi swirls and crackles around him. The temperature in the room drops. "Now."
For the first time, a flicker of fear darts across Xue Yang's face. He vanishes out the door, and Xichen shuts it behind him and thumbs the lock.
Meng Yao realizes his mouth is open. He closes it with an audible click. "A-Huan…"
His husband sighs, and the crackling power in the air lessens. "He doesn't want me. He wants you. He wants to rile you up and get your attention."
"Me?" Meng Yao frowns, and takes a tentative step across the room. "Xue Yang doesn't want me."
"Jiang Wanyin was actually his third choice for a prize. Xiao Xingchen was the first, and you were the second." Xichen's anger is still sparking in the air around him. "Obviously your father refused to even entertain the idea. Wen Fuhe told me about it the day we were married."
It takes another moment to realize his mouth has once again fallen open. "I didn't know." He wraps his arms around himself, briefly stunned. He and Xue Yang have never been friends, but Meng Yao sacrificed his position in Qinghe to protect him. He threw away what was slowly becoming a home for him, threw away his relationship with Nie Mingjue, just to keep Xue Yang safe. And this is how he repays him?
Xichen sweeps him up in his arms, holding him sideways against his chest, and the harsh prickle of his cultivation swirling in the air has completely gentled by the time it reaches Meng Yao's skin. Dots of light land on him, soft as butterflies.
"... you really got upset with him," Meng Yao says after a while.
His husband sighs, and goes to sit on the couch, carrying Meng Yao and plopping him in his lap. "There is nothing I can abide less than someone wanting to hurt you." He cups Meng Yao's cheek. "Besides, he's a bad man. A dangerous man."
"We still need to use him, A-Huan," Meng Yao points out. "If he wants to sleep with me, that might even make framing him for the theft of the seal easier." A single strand of hair has fallen from Xichen's topknot, and Meng Yao carefully tucks it behind his ear. "And once he's out of the way, you won't need to worry about him wanting me any more."
Xichen buries his nose in Meng Yao's hair. "I know. And you are far from defenseless." He huffs. "It just. I felt so…"
Meng Yao's hand slips under his hair to stroke the nape of his neck. "You felt so…?"
"...disrespected," Xichen finishes at long last. "He was acting like he was flirting with me while staring at you, and he knows we are married, he knows…"
Does Xichen not know that he's feeling possessive? Maybe this has never happened to him before, it makes sense that he wouldn't experience something like a threat to something beloved to him until the war. "A-Huan, I'm not at all interested in Xue Yang. I'm not interested in anybody who isn't you." He gently tugs his husband's head up with his hand.
"I know," he says, sounding vaguely annoyed. "I don't doubt your fidelity. I'm sorry, I never meant to imply…"
Unable to resist the urge to laugh completely, Meng Yao smiles. "I understand. You're feeling possessive, gege, it's normal."
"But it isn't logical," he grouses.
"Emotions aren't always logical." Meng Yao rests his head on his chest. "Besides, I don't really mind. You're very attractive like this, my husband."
The hand under the bend of his knees is cupping his thigh. "Really?"
"You always make me feel safe and wanted," Meng Yao admits quietly. "And... when you express that with more intensity. Well."
Xichen bends his back to kiss him, firm and almost forceful. He's happy to open his mouth to the welcome invasion, to let himself be conquered.
He runs his thumb over Xichen's jawline when they part. "I'm yours, always. Your A-Yao."
Gentle kisses rain over his cheekbones. "Mine," he agrees in a reverent whisper. His soft kisses trace the shape of Meng Yao's lips. Meng Yao takes the first opportunity he gets to squirm out of the princess carry and straddle A-Huan's lap properly.
"Yours," he murmurs between kisses. "Yours, all yours."
He's carried to the bedroom. Meng Yao was more than content to just dry hump on the couch, but his husband insists he needs to lay down. Which he does, opening his arms in invitation.
"I didn't know this would make me so..." Xichen bends his head to nose at Meng Yao's neck.
"Horny?" Meng Yao finishes for him.
"I was going to say desirous, but yes," he chuckles. He kisses the soft spot under Meng Yao's ear, and he feels the faintest whisper of teeth.
"You can bite me, gege," he whispers.
Xichen nuzzles up to his cheek. "Bite you?"
Meng Yao nods, and leans his head back. "Leave a mark. Right here, maybe." He touches the side of his neck, just above his collarbone. "That way, anyone who looks at me will know how well my husband satisfies me, and how little I desire anyone else."
Something dark and wanting flashes in Xichen's eyes, and he dives down to put his lips against the spot Meng Yao indicated. He kisses gently, before he bites.
"Ah!" He digs his nails into Xichen's back as he feels teeth break skin.
"Was that too much?"
"No," he says, keeping his head in place with a hand in obsidian silk hair. It was significantly harder than he expected his gentle giant of a husband to bite, but not too much. A hot tongue flicks out to lap over the wound, and he realizes with a wave of almost unbearable arousal that Xichen is licking up his blood. A gentle tingle of cultivation stops the bleeding, but the bruise and scab remain.
"Oh," Xichen murmurs, moving back to look at his handiwork. "I like that."
Meng Yao presses on the sore spot with his fingertips, leaning into the ache. "So do I."
Thus begins another sensual lesson for his beautiful but innocent husband. Meng Yao teaches him how to leave a mark without teeth, the right amount of pressure with his nails to make red lines without breaking skin. Xichen quickly discovers all Meng Yao's weak points, and he doesn't suppress his reactions. Xichen pinches his nipples, digging in his nails, then gentles away the sting with his tongue.
"Is that good?" He asks, voice heavy with arousal even though he hasn't taken off a stitch of clothing. Meng Yao is still in his pants.
"It's good," he responds. "It's like...when I dig my nails into your back. It hurts but it feels good."
Together they tug down Meng Yao's pants. Xichen drinks in every inch of bared skin with greedy eyes.
"Mine," he murmurs, bending down to kiss him. Meng Yao meets him halfway.
"Yours," he says, and sucks strongly on his husband's tongue. When he reaches down to hold Meng Yao's cock, he catches his wrist. "I have another thing I want to try, gege."
Xichen raises his eyebrows. "I am always open to suggestions." His dark eyes twinkle. He has to be very uncomfortable under his robes, and Meng Yao reaches to divest him of them.
"I want you to fuck my face," he says as he tosses his husband's pants off the bed and onto the floor. "Take your pleasure in my mouth."
Xichen's pupils go wide, his mouth just a little bit slack.
They have done this before, both of them, but Meng Yao wants this time to be different. He wants to see his A-Huan in control, and he wants to soothe the flashes of pain he sees in his husband's eyes.
It takes a bit more positioning, and discussion, but they both are eager. Xichen doesn't want Meng Yao on his knees, which he doesn't mind, his knees would probably get sore quickly anyway.
"I could lay on on my back and hang my head off the edge of the bed," Meng Yao murmurs. He's seen that position in graphic books before, and it claimed to be an easy position for oral sex. Something about straightening out the throat.
"I want to see your eyes," is Xichen's respose, thumbing his lower lip.
They end up with Xichen on his back, Meng Yao comfortable between his spread thighs, mouth full. Xichen's hands tug him down, one on the back of his head and the other on the nape of his neck. Meng Yao chokes a bit and Xichen tries to pull him away, but he resists. He can do this.
It's fine, it's good. Fuck me. He looks up the expanse of Xichen's muscled stomach to gaze through his eyelashes. He can imagine the way he looks, and his hands curl on Xichen's thighs.
Xichen crunches two handfuls of Meng Yao's hair in his hands, and does as he's told. "You'll tell me if you need me to stop?"
Yes. I promise, love.
"Stars and sky you're beautiful," he gasps, pulling him down and pushing past Meng Yao's gag reflex. His cock is so big, it fills Meng Yao's mouth and throat perfectly. He revels in it, in this one thing that was never taken from him by force, that he can give his husband.
Does my mouth feel good, gege? Meng Yao sucks on the tip the next time it passes back up into his mouth, moving the loose skin there and tasting salt. Xichen lets him stay there for a moment, hollowing his cheeks and batting his eyelashes. What about my throat? Is it nice and tight and warm around your big cock?
"Y-yes," he gasps, face flushed brilliantly. "My A-Yao always feels so good, looks so beautiful."
Only you get to do this. Meng Yao closes his eyes, holding tightly to A-Huan's hips. Only you, my husband. I give you everything I can, freely and eagerly. I'm yours.
He gasps, hips stuttering. "A-Yao-- I'm--" he pulls out about halfway before he comes. What Meng Yao can't swallow trickles out of his mouth, down his chin, and then he shifts back just enough to let a bit smear over his cheeks and forehead. It's filthy and probably beneath his station, but absolutely perfect.
Good, A-Huan, so good for me, he praises, licking his lips. Your A-Yao likes making you come.
Most of Xichen's possessive nerves seem to have been eased by Meng Yao's mouth. He looks relaxed again, a very horny kind of relaxed, but an improvement over his confused jealousy from earlier. The sight of his come dripping from his lips and down his neck soothes him, such a visceral claim.
Meng Yao wipes his face and licks his fingers, smiling up at his husband. "Yours," he says out loud. "I love the way you taste, A-Huan," he murmurs, and then goes limp and breathless with laughter as Xichen scoops him up to place carefully beneath him to return the favor.
"A-Yao," he breathes, sucking dark marks all over his hip bones. "My A-Yao. My husband. Mine."
"Yours," he confirms, and spreads his legs wider.
Chapter 24: sometimes that boy simply cannot be contained
Summary:
Meng Yao hears from Lanling, and from Xue Yang.
Notes:
I'm sure some of you have noticed that updates have been spottier than usual lately. There's some stuff going on in my life right now that's been gobbling up a lot of my attention, but that's all nearly resolved! You can expect updates to start coming with more reliability every week or so in september.
Chapter Text
Word comes from General Mu two long days of not walking later. Meng Yao and Xichen are in the throne room with Wen Ruohan, listening to a line of petitioners who wish to join the empire. A very small cultivational sect they've never heard of before, a farming family that goes back generations and owns a significant amount of land, and eight rogue cultivators are accepted. The emperor only turns down two petitioners, one because he accidentally revealed he was lying about the number of blacksmiths under his employ and another because he insulted Xing Longwei. It seems like a petty reason to bar the man, who is not a cultivator but apparently a fair gardener who has a wife and children, from joining the empire.
After the gardener is half-drug out of the throne room, a courier scurries in and dodges around the next petitioner. He dips his head to her before bowing fully to the emperor.
"Excellency, a letter from General Mu in Lanling."
Wen Ruohan, who is holding Jiang Wanyin on his lap with an arm around his waist, perks up. He apologizes to the petitioner for having to wait, then waves the courier forward. "Read the letter."
"'My lord, Carp Tower has been fully sacked, and the demolition is going well,'" he reads off the scroll. "'We have retrieved many treasures and will be returning triumphantly home within the next five days. As you ordered, no fertile lands have been razed, and only one village was unwilling to pledge their loyalty to the emperor. The unwilling village was burnt to the ground.'"
Wen Ruohan smiles. "Excellent, excellent." He fidgets with Wanyin's hair, making a tiny braid. "Continue."
"Yes, your excellency." The courier licks his lips. "'Out of the treasures we will be bringing home, I have enclosed a full list for ease of recording. However, I will give a few of the highlights here. Hundreds of pounds of gold. Many ancient and powerful artifacts, such as a jade pendant blessed by Chang'e, a horsetail whisk that belonged to Daozhang He, and the sword of Jin Kang. Between those in Carp Tower and the village we destroyed, twenty-five children under the age of five have been collected to be raised as future Wen disciples, as well as eight human cauldrons, all of whom were in use by the Jin gentry.'" The courier lowers the scroll. "That is the end, your excellency, after the list is a brief goodbye."
Ruohan smiles at Meng Yao. "I'm pleased she has already compiled a full list of the treasures we have acquired. It will make your job easier, certainly."
Meng Yao nods. "One less list to make myself."
Under any other circumstances, Meng Yao still would've made his own list, because he doesn't trust anyone but himself to do it right. Well, A-Huan probably could without trouble, his patience and serenity would allow him to take the time needed, as could Jiang Yanli, with her impeccable attention to detail. Sadly, neither of them are in a position to do so.
And these are not ordinary circumstances. Meng Yao is working two major jobs, managing accounts and books around the Fire Palace and plotting to steal the tiger seal. He hates cutting corners, absolutely hates it, but he doubts he will have time to poke through whatever is brought back from Carp Tower half as carefully as he wants.
He's most interested in the children, and the eight human cauldrons the letter mentioned. He wants to save his time and energy for them. Those are people, actual people. He's always been peripherally aware of how highly the Wen view adoption, especially after he was adopted himself, but this sounds more like kidnapping than adoption. Even if the children in question are orphans, Mu Fenyan and her armies are the ones that made them so. Has this happened before? The Wen are a very diverse group, probably due to their willingness to take in just about anyone regardless of blood or origin, but how many adults in Nightless City were brought here young under similar circumstances?
Meng Yao pinches himself. This is not the time.
The last two petitioners are both allowed to join the Wen empire, another rogue cultivator and woman from the south whose family was known as excellent weavers. As Meng Yao straightens up in A-Huan's lap and stretches, the doors bang open and Xue Yang strides in.
"Excellency, I'd like to show you something," he calls without even bowing.
"You cannot just… barge in and demand the emperor's time," Luo Xianbian sputters indignantly.
With an aggrieved sigh, Wen Ruohan waves the guard away. "What is it, Xue Yang?" He sounds tired, and not very interested.
Undeterred, Xue Yang bounces up the steps and spreads out those same papers that he'd shown to Meng Yao two days ago. "I wanna try something."
Wen Ruohan looks down at the papers, frowns, and then stands up, stepping on one of the sheets. "No. I will not be separating the two pieces of the tiger seal."
Xue Yang bares his teeth. "And why the fuck not? I have all the evidence right here, it'll be so much stronger if you do!"
An odd chill runs over Meng Yao. It feels like fear, except he has no reason to be afraid. Is this sympathy? Is he worried for Xue Yang, who is apparently stupid enough to curse at the emperor?
Once again giving that tired sigh, Wen Ruohan steps off the paper, bends at the waist, and neatly sweeps up all the pages Xue Yang had presented him with. He rolls them into a tube. "I will only say this once, so listen." He bonks the tube of paper on Xue Yang's head, in an oddly affectionate gesture. "I do not need more power from the tiger seal at this time. Nor do I want to risk unbalancing the other pieces of yin iron by splitting the seal."
Jumping to his feet, Xue Yang snarls. "Then what's the point? Why keep it around if not to try and become more powerful?"
Longwei, who had been standing behind the throne, comes to stand next to the emperor with his eyes narrowed. "You are pushing your luck," he says lowly. "Who do you think you are?"
Xue Yang grabs the tube of paper out of Wen Ruohan's hands. "Obviously smarter than either of you!"
Then he spins around and runs from the dais. Meng Yao barely keeps down a laugh, this behavior is so childish. Throwing a temper tantrum because he didn't get his way. How juvenile.
Wen Ruohan extends a hand, palm out, and Xue Yang freezes in place at the foot of the stairs, his back to them. Meng Yao's hair stands on end at the change in the air, the heavy weight of Ruohan's magic. He hasn't seen the emperor do this in… a very long time. All his mirth evaporates, and that borderline panicked sympathy comes back.
"Xue Yang," he says, and his tone has none of the tired but vaguely fond tilt to it now. He doesn't lower his hand, and Xue Yang doesn't budge. He can't, not when the emperor has control of every single muscle in his body. The only reason the delinquent's heart is still beating is because Ruohan wishes it to. Because he is orchestrating every single contraction of the muscle, every gulp of his lungs, now. "Where do you think you are going?"
Meng Yao has a vague sense that he ought to do something. If Wen Ruohan kills Xue Yang here and now they will lose their scapegoat. But he can't move, and only when he realizes that he's hyperventilating does he also realize he isn't under the same spell Xue Yang is.
"You were out of line," the emperor says, stepping down the stairs until he's only a few steps above Xue Yang. A lazy wave of Ruohan's hand has the young man turning around to face him. "You know what happens when you're out of line."
Xue Yang's eyes are huge. Meng Yao is sure if he could, he would be trembling.
Wen Ruohan snaps his fingers, and Xue Yang immediately starts trembling. He sinks slowly down to his knees.
"I'm sorry, your excellency," he mutters, kowtowing.
Ruohan raises an eyebrow. "Why are you sorry?"
He doesn't lift his head, or so much as twitch. "I was rude. That was wrong of me."
"There now," Ruohan says, voice just a shade away from mocking. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" He flicks his hand again and some unseen force puts Xue Yang back on his feet. He looks down intently at his shoes, and doesn't answer for several beats. When he does open his mouth, what he says is "may I be dismissed?"
"Yes, because you remember to ask. Run along now."
He bolts as if from an erupting volcano. Wen Ruohan sighs and allows himself to fall back into his throne, patting his thigh. "A-Cheng, here please."
Wanyin gets up off the ground and crawls into the emperor's lap. Ruohan thumbs his jaw, raising an eyebrow at his questioning look.
"Ruohan, I really don't think he's worth the trouble," Xianbian sighs.
"Who is not worth the trouble?" Xichen asks, arm winding around Meng Yao's waist. It's grounding, the sensation. "Xue Yang?"
"That boy was never civilized," Xianbian says curtly.
"He can be taught," his father says. "He only needs direction and a firm hand. He knows his place, he's just struggling to settle into it."
Longwei, frowning, goes to stand on Ruohan's other side. "Wen-xiong, I agree with Xianbian. You give him a long leash, and I think it is only a matter of time before he bites you." His eyes shift from the emperor to Meng Yao, still petrified in Xichen's lap.
Xichen tugs Meng Yao more firmly against him. Are you alright, my love?
I am. It's alright. He's lying, but it just slips right out of him. I'm. I'm sorry, I can't, I don't know.
He slows down his breathing, and it helps. Wen Ruohan has never once used that terrifying technique on him, but seeing it in use still petrifies Meng Yao. He can stop someone's heart with a twitch of his hand.
"And he frightens Huoyao," Longwei says.
Ruohan turns to him with wide eyes, blinking like he momentarily forgot he was there. "Yao'er," he mutters, and jumps to his feet, leaving Wanyin alone on the throne. "He's no threat to your position."
Meng Yao blinks. The confusion, at least, knocks him the rest of the way out of his panic. "I didn't think he was."
"Good. You are my son, I have no interest in adopting Xue Yang."
Is that what the man thought was going through Meng Yao's mind? That his kindness towards Xue Yang was indicative of the emperor wanting to adopt another son?
His husband squeezes him tighter. "A-Yao has had a tiring few days," Xichen explains.
Nodding sagely, the emperor puts an arm on the side of Meng Yao's throne. "The treatments, I imagine, since they rely on his golden core so strongly." One big hand softly pets his head, right behind his guan. "I'm sorry, Yao'er, I shouldn't have called you here today. You're still recovering, it would have been better to allow you to stay in your rooms."
Meng Yao shakes his head. "If I spent another day just lounging around my rooms doing nothing I would go insane."
Wen Ruohan smiles, a little and gentle thing. "Something less strenuous, then. I could call on the dance troupe for a private performance tonight, during dinner, or your husband could take you for a walk around the gardens?"
The Qishan dance troupe had very nearly been destroyed by the war, but survived due to Wen Ruohan's patronage. "I have never seen the dance troupe perform before," he says, fairly sure that's the right answer.
"Well, then. I'll send a missive at once. Longwei, see if anyone else would like to join us for dinner here this evening, if you would."
The guard nods. "Of course." He takes a step toward the stairs, then pauses to look at Meng Yao. "We try to keep Xue Yang away from you," he says quietly. "But sometimes that boy simply cannot be contained."
Meng Yao blinks after him, trying to categorize this new knowledge. Try to keep Xue Yang away from him? Is that why he's seen so little of the delinquent?
Xichen scoops him up. "A-Yao," he mutters, standing. "Let's go back to our rooms and get changed for dinner."
Chapter 25: He is rapidly learning that feeling protected is not the same thing as feeling safe
Summary:
Meng Yao undergoes his first treatment without Xichen by his side. It doesn't go well.
Notes:
Long chapter is long, and also contains some things like violation of bodily autonomy. You know, standard for this fic.
On top of that, this chapter also has an accompanying extra! You can read these events from Meng Yao's perspective here, and from Wen Ruohan's perspective by clicking here.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Meng Yao hisses and twitches away. Wen Qing huffs.
"You've got to try and stay still."
He's laid out on his stomach on the exam table of Wen Qing's back room. All that he's wearing is a pair of pants that stop at mid-thigh, absolutely the most scandalous item of clothing he's ever worn, in order to give her access to the spots she needs. The healer is standing at the side, carefully inserting needles into his low back, hips, and legs.
"You weren't this j-j-jumpy back in your room," Wen Ning observes quietly. He's sitting on the other side of the table, monitoring Meng Yao's spiritual veins with a hand on his wrist. On either side of him are two healers Meng Yao doesn't know, and he also doesn't know what they're doing. Supplying Qionglin with spiritual power, maybe? "Is something wrong?"
Annoyance wells up. There is a lot wrong. This is the first time he's been given a treatment outside of his and Xichen's rooms. This is the first time he's had to have both his shirt and pants off at the same time. This is also the first time Xichen hasn't been by his side while he's repeatedly stuck with needles and talismans that make him sleepy, make him feel like he's run from one end of Nightless City to the other carrying a bag of sand.
No, Xichen finally has an official job in Nightless City, one given to him by the emperor. Well, one that isn't the nebulous assignment he's always had to protect Meng Yao. Xichen has been asked to spend a few hours once a week instructing the young Wen disciples in musical cultivation. His husband would've balked if it wasn't for the children, wide eyed and eager to learn, none over the age of eleven. This morning Xichen acquiesced, gathering up Liebing and Xisheng, the qin gifted to them at their wedding by Fuhe, and went to teach them only after Meng Yao spent nearly an hour telling his husband he would be alright.
Meng Yao isn't going to let his bizarre, faceless hangups about being touched ruin this for him. Wen Qing and her brother are his friends. He trusts them. He knows that this is just a treatment to help him heal.
"You're tactically defensive," Wen Qing says. "Much, more more so than usual. Which means you're nervous. Is it because Xichen isn't here?"
The healer sitting on Qionglin's left jumps to his feet. "Your father is just outside, my prince, there's no reason not to bring him in."
Wen Ruohan is, in fact, just outside the treatment room. While Xichen is busy, the emperor himself has taken on the task of making sure Meng Yao never takes a single step on his own feet.
Meng Yao opens his mouth, but the healer is already stepping outside. Wen Qing gives his retreating back a sharp look, but she's holding a needle in place right in his lower spine and he's pretty sure she can't let go of it just yet.
And then Wen Ruohan steps into the room. He hardly acknowledges any of the healers. He only seems to have eyes for Meng Yao.
"Are you alright?"
Meng Yao is not alright, there are too many hands touching him, and he isn't wearing nearly enough clothes. Each point of contact is like an electric shock, especially on his back and legs.
"Is it okay that he's here, my prince?" Wen Qing asks, bravely ignoring the emperor. "Since Li Donglin didn't actually ask our patient before rushing out to fetch his excellency."
Wen Ruohan's brows draw together. He briefly glances at the man who brought him into the room, who squeaks faintly and cringes away.
Thankfully the emperor doesn't do more than that. He looks back to Meng Yao. "You look terrified," he says softly. He comes to the head of the exam table. He's much taller than any of the healers, so instead of Meng Yao's prone body being about the height of mid-chest, he is closer to Wen Ruohan's abdomen. "Is it the touching, the state of undress, or the lack of familiar people close by?"
Does this man know everything? Maybe he can read minds. But he obviously can't, because if he could, Meng Yao would be dead a hundred times over. How else can he nail down so accurately everything that has him on the border of panic, though?
"...all of them," he admits quietly, not making eye contact.
His father hums softly. It's an oddly gentle noise, for how powerful it is. A hand gently lands on the side of Meng Yao's head, and he gasps. The touch isn't as body-jolting as the ones from the healers, but it still takes him by surprise.
"Be still," he hums, and Meng Yao realizes that he's doing… something, something with cultivation, either with his voice or his hand or maybe both. He goes a bit fuzzy around the edges, a bit soft and distant. Fingertips pet the top of his ear, then move up to his scalp.
"That's it. This will help you relax." Wen Ruohan's voice is louder, but he isn't yelling, he hasn't raised his volume or anything at all. He can feel his braid being undone, and for a brief moment he panics at the thought of everyone in the room seeing him with his hair messy. "Just focus on me," his father says, and everything in Meng Yao swirls a bit.
The palm on his head isn't holding him down. The pressure is minimal, just enough to be a scalp massage. He knows the emperor's nails are sharp, but when they do scratch over his skin, it's with such tenderness he hardly feels the vicious points for what they are. Now that his hair is down, his father can card through his hair easily.
"Yes, you're doing so well, Yao'er." His tone is like a whisper but it's loud, not too loud, but too loud for a whisper. "Just focus on my voice, and my hand in your hair. You can feel it, can't you?"
Meng Yao's lips and eyes feel heavy, even though his eyes are closed-- when did that happen?
"Y...yes," he manages. He feels buried under a mound of blankets, or separated from most of existence by a pane of thick, smoky glass.
"Good boy." Those fingers in his hair rustle, petting him so gently, and it feels--
Feels--
"You can cry, if you need to," he says. Which is stupid because Meng Yao is already crying-- since when?
But the permission unlocks something in him. Something he would've preferred stay locked. And he cries.
"Oh, Yao'er," his father hums. It sounds like he's speaking inside Meng Yao's head. "It's alright, you're alright. Let it out."
He dissolves from quiet tears into messy, undignified sobs. Laying face down on an exam table-- that is where he is, right? If he focuses he can feel, distantly, the hands of the healers on him, inserting and removing needles, touching him, but that all pales in comparison to the sensation of Wen Ruohan's hand in his hair, still gently stroking.
"Good, baobei. You have to let it out. All this will kill you if you keep it inside."
Even his sobbing seems far away. Is Wen Ruohan in his head? Why is he still alive? Is he playing with him, making him think he's safe right before cutting his head off?
Meng Yao refuses to die like this, mostly naked and laying on his stomach. He tries to get up, to get his weight under him, but he succeeds only in twitching.
"Be still," Wen Ruohan says again, and a ripple runs through Meng Yao that saps all the resistance out of his muscles. "You poor thing. Later, you'll have to tell me who hurt you using this technique."
Technique? So he is doing something to Meng Yao… but what? The way he talks about it, it must be a common method. Why can't he figure out what it is?
"My sweet boy. So tense and so scared." He feels just the faintest prickle of a nail against his scalp, and if he had the control to, Meng Yao would have sobbed in terror. How badly will it hurt, when those nails finally sink into his skin? They're sharp enough to shred him, flay off his skin right down to the bone. The skin of the scalp isn't very thick, with the right amount of strength and a decent grip it would be easy to--
"Goodness, it's even worse than I thought." The nails stop scraping. The gentle, barely-there pressure of the palm on his head loses all its bite, all it's danger.
Meng Yao doesn't understand, Wen Ruohan knows now, doesn't he? Somehow, some way he's gotten inside Meng Yao's head and knows everything.
"No one is going to hurt you ever again, Yao'er, I promise. And certainly nobody in this room. Your a-die is right here, I won't allow it. You are perfectly safe."
He's not, he's not, he's not… but he shouldn't be surprised, he always knew he would be tortured if he was discovered, tortured terribly, but he didn't think it would be like this.
"Hm. Perhaps this was not such a good idea after all. Stop."
Meng Yao goes crashing back into his body. Nobody is touching him except for Wen Ruohan, with the hand in his hair. Wen Qing and Qionglin are the only two healers left, the others all seem to have been dismissed. They've removed the needles and talismans from him. And something is draped over his mostly bare body-- a blanket?
"Yao'er," Wen Ruohan says, and his voice sounds normal, it isn't coming from inside Meng Yao's head anymore. "I'm going to remove my hand, alright? But I will be right here if you need it back."
He does, the hand is gone and so is everything else. Meng Yao is tumbling through space, untethered and alone, suffocating in the darkness.
"Put it back," he hiccups, and his voice sounds like that of a child.
The hand comes back, and with it, existence. He's still laying on the exam table in Wen Qing's clinic, still in nothing but those tiny pants, with something draped over him. Not a blanket.
He opens his eyes. Wen Ruohan is standing at the head of the exam table. Wen Qing is beside him, Qionglin seems to have gone somewhere else. There's some kind of deep emotion in the emperor's wine colored eyes.
"You're back with us," Wen Ruohan says. "Good." He closes his eyes a moment, and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Yao'er. I did not know someone had used Compassion to hurt you in the past, though I should have guessed."
Meng Yao blinks dumbly. It takes a moment for him to even register each word spoken.
Compassion is a technique in the same vein as Empathy and Sympathy. The caster can feel the emotions of their target, and manipulate them to an extent. It isn't mind reading, Compassion isn't mind reading, he knows that from the book he read on the three related techniques when he was thirteen. But it shouldn't have been able to make everything but Wen Ruohan just… fall away like that.
"What… did you do to me?" He croaks, his voice raw with crying.
"A combination of Compassion and Focus," he says. "Focus so that you would feel nothing but my hand; Compassion so I could better understand your fear." With his free hand, Wen Ruohan pinches his nose. He looks… almost ashamed. "I thought I could soothe you, gentle you through it. But you only became more and more distressed."
Wen Ruohan didn't read his mind. He only felt Meng Yao's mind-numbing terror.
Meng Yao pushes himself up into a sitting position, and his father's hand slides away. He feels a brief jolt of terror, but the sensation of falling through nothing doesn't return. The thing draped over him is a robe. The emperor's outer robe, richly embroidered and embellished, heavy but soft and warm. It smells like sweet wood smoke, the scent that permeates all of Qishan but concentrates the most strongly around Wen Ruohan.
"You're not going to kill me," he murmurs, and then cringes when he realizes he spoke aloud.
Wen Ruohan's eyes widen. "I would never harm you," he says, and then wraps his arms around Meng Yao. He is slid easily to the edge of the exam table, and pressed firmly into a gentle embrace. "You are my son. My family." He sighs, chest rising and falling. "I hoped to never join the ranks of those who were not as careful with you as you deserve. My poor, fragile little one." A gentle kiss to the top of Meng Yao's head, the kind that turns him into an insensate puddle of goo. "I hope you can forgive me."
Curled up against his chest like this, Meng Yao does feel small. He also feels viciously protected, and is rapidly learning that feeling protected is not the same thing as feeling safe.
Wen Ruohan's robe is massive on him, but it covers everything a robe should, thankfully. The fabric is fine, and it's sticking to his skin with sweat.
"Your… your robe is going to get dirty."
"What, by being in contact with your skin?" The strong arms around him clamp down a little bit more firmly. Meng Yao can't figure out what he's feeling, he either wants to flee or burrow further into Wen Ruohan's chest. "I don't think so."
No, Meng Yao isn't trying to push the agenda that he's inherently filthy, he's just covered in sweat, and there may well be a bit of blood coming from the spots on his back where the needles were. Perhaps. Or it could just be sweat, too, that he's feeling. "But I'm all sweaty…"
"Fear will do that," the emperor says, as if it's some big secret. He cups the nape of Meng Yao's neck, stroking the short, soft hair there. "I'll have a bath sent to your room."
A bath sounds nice, in his room, where it is quiet. With A-Huan.
A-Huan! Meng Yao looks into their matrix and finds several messages that were not there before.
Wen Xiao is a natural qin player.
Kang Hui, one of the daughters of General Kang, has perfect pitch. She's only seven years old!
A-Yao?
Wen Ning says something happened. I'm coming to the clinic, I'll be there soon.
Are you okay?
Meng Yao sighs. I'm alright, A-Huan.
Oh thank heaven. I was very worried!
Meng Yao hides his face in Wen Ruohan's neck. Are you almost here?
Instead of a reply, the door bursts open and Wen Ning comes in with Xichen hot on his heels. It takes a monumental effort not to spring off Wen Ruohan's chest to get to his husband as quickly as possible. Luckily the emperor seems to understand, and almost hands him to Xichen.
"A-Huan!" He's almost embarrassed with how whiny he sounds, but it's hard to care when his beloved is right there and he is still scared.
"A-Yao, what happened?"
He shoves his face into Xichen's neck, inhaling the smell of mint. The smell of safety. There's still the earthy wood smoke smell coming off Wen Ruohan's robe, but with the added scent of his husband he feels much better.
I thought he was reading my mind, but he wasn't. I panicked.
"In an attempt to help Yao'er relax during the treatment I used Compassion and Focus to gauge his emotional state and prevent him from feeling the treatment," Wen Ruohan says at the same time as Meng Yao starts writing. He drops off in the matrix, deciding to let the emperor explain. "But it seems I only frightened him more."
Xichen holds him firmly against his chest. Is that what happened?
Yes, for the most part. I think he thinks someone hurt me using Compassion, and that's why I got so scared.
"I shouldn't have left you all by yourself for this," Xichen frets.
Meng Yao hushes him with a finger over his lips. "I wasn't all alone." It was just a lot, and I wasn't really wearing clothes, and. Well, it sounds silly now. "I'm okay. We're okay."
He glances to Wen Ruohan. He still looks a bit concerned. He obviously feels bad for frightening Meng Yao, for using spells on him without asking. As he should. But he won't endear himself to the man by being angry with him.
And. And he really was trying to help, wasn't he? Even though it backfired so badly.
"I forgive you, a-die," he whispers.
Wen Ruohan smiles, wide and warm. He rounds the table to stand next to Xichen, and leans over to kiss Meng Yao's head. The world spins dizzyingly for a moment. The touch is still so affectionate, there is no way Wen Ruohan was in Meng Yao's mind. Maybe this is for the better.
"Thank you," his father murmurs. "I will be more gentle with you in the future."
That brings up warring emotions. Wen Ruohan is the enemy and he doesn't want him to be gentle with him. Meng Yao has to kill him. But he wants more of those head kisses and indulgent smiles and praise--
He bites the inside of his cheek. Wen Ruohan is an evil man, the fact that he is so kind to Meng Yao makes his evil even worse. He is an unrepentant torturer, rapist, conqueror. Even if he does love Meng Yao, he still has a duty to stop him.
"I'm not so fragile," is what he finally says, trying to satisfy both sides of his warring heart.
"No, you are not," he says, and Meng Yao gets the feeling he is being humored. Well, if he wants to believe Meng Yao to be some delicate flower, that won't hurt. It's just surprising, considering that he's seen Meng Yao torture people to death before without batting an eye. "Allow this father to indulge himself in being gentle with you, Yao'er. So few others have."
That one hits him square in the chest. No one is gentle with him, except for Xichen, and Wen Ruohan. He hates putting the two of them in the same category.
Well, he has told Wanyin over and over that it is not wrong or shameful to try to make their time in Nightless City as easy as possible. Meng Yao is a hypocrite, but he doesn't want to be one here. If Wanyin finds out, he could implode. And since he and miss Jiang are the closest thing he's had to a friend his age in his entire life, he refuses to risk that.
"You are welcome to keep the robe," his father says, gesturing to the robe still wrapped around Meng Yao. It's one of the fanciest ones, the kind that the emperor wears during official events. He doesn't trust it, he doesn't like the idea of having something of Wen Ruohan's in his quarters. Too easy to get attached to it. And it could have a spying talisman on it, unlikely as that is.
"No. I'll have it laundered and returned to you, it's much too fine a robe not to be worn."
Wen Ruohan dips his head. "Alright, if you insist."
Meng Yao was not expecting him to give in so quickly.
Xichen tucks Meng Yao's head under his chin. "Do you want to go back to our rooms?"
Meng Yao nods. "I want to take a bath." His eyelids are fluttering. Now that he's surrounded by the smell of mint, he is having a hard time staying awake.
Close your eyes, A-Yao. I'm here. Everything will be alright.
Wen Ruohan walks with them back to their rooms. Or, at least he thinks he does. Meng Yao falls asleep not two minutes after leaving the clinic.
~*~
Meng Yao wakes up slowly, to voices speaking softly. Someone is stroking his hair, his head feels like it's pillowed in their lap. Everything feels fuzzy and distant. Only half real.
"...like I have never hated before," A-Huan's voice is saying from above him. "It frightens me, how much I hate him."
"I'm sure the Lan always taught you to fear your own intensity," a sympathetic male voice says. It sounds like Wen Fuhe.
"It would be far more concerning if you did not hate him, Zewu-jun." That's definitely Wen Ruohan. "He is a vile creature. He caused great harm to the man you love."
A-Huan's hands keep carding steadily through his hair. "I still want to live righteously," he whispers. "Even if I am not a Lan anymore."
"Think about it this way. When a crime is committed, the criminal must be punished. This is righteous, yes?" Fuhe proposes.
"Yes," Xichen responds. "It is not… not wanting to punish him that I feel is unrighteous. It is how much I fear I would enjoy it."
Wen Ruohan laughs softly. "I see. You poor thing." There is a rustle of sleeves and a clink of teacups. "Consider this. Huoyao is your husband, you have vowed to be by his side and to defend his life, yes?"
"Yes."
"Half the purpose of punishment is to serve as a deterrent for future offenders. The worse the punishment, the less likely it is that someone will do it again." He hears tea pouring. "Therefore, punishing those who hurt him in the past has the effect of protecting him in the future. Does that make sense to you?"
Xichen squirms a bit, elegantly as always, but still a bit awkward. "I understand the concept. However, I do not think that A-Yao is in danger of being thrown down a flight of steps again."
"Certainly not," Fuhe says sharply. "Deterrent is only half the purpose of punishment, though."
"Indeed," his father picks up. "The other half is to provide reassurance to the victim. For those who were abused over a long period of time, it can be difficult for them to understand the depth of what was done. You and I both know that Yao'er downplays his suffering a great deal."
Xichen lets out a long huff of breath. "He does. It often worries me." The hand stroking his hair stops to run gentle circles over his cheekbone.
"What Jin Guangshan did to him was inexcusable," Wen Ruohan says firmly. "We all know that as well. But I don't think Yao'er does. Part of him still views himself as having deserved it. That's probably the root cause of why you want to punish him so badly, Xichen."
"Huoyao is your husband," Fuhe says. "Your spouse. It is a man's right, priviledge, and joy to protect his partner. A woman's too, any warrior, really." He laughs lightly. "This is the modern age, after all, and General Mu and the Shi sisters would be very displeased if I left them out." More clinking, the sound of someone swallowing. "Huoyao is very capable, but there are things even he cannot protect himself from."
"It is normal to feel this way," his father says. "There is nothing wrong with you or these desires you are having." He pauses. "I would like to formally ask you to accompany me tomorrow, when I go to see Jin Guangshan in the dungeon. Perhaps personally observing his punishments will settle you."
Both of A-Huan's hands are in his hair now, gently finger combing it. "I think I would like that," he murmurs.
That is enough to startle Meng Yao into further wakefulness. Xichen wants to see Jin Guangshan be tortured?
"Oh, I think he's waking up," Fuhe says.
A finger traces the curve of his eyebrow. "A-Yao? It's okay, you don't have to wake up. You're safe. I'm right here."
Remembering that he has eyes, Meng Yao opens them. He's looking up into Xichen's face. "Hello," he mumbles sleepily.
Xichen gives a crooked smile. "Hello, my love. Did you have a good nap?"
Meng Yao sits up and stretches. He's on the couch in their sitting room, and had been using his husband as a pillow until now. He's still wearing those short pants and nothing else, but the throw blanket is over him and Wen Ruohan's robe is tucked around his shoulders. His father is sitting with Wen Fuhe at the table, sharing a pot of tea and a plate of peanuts.
"I did," Meng Yao says, finding that he feels much better. He's still tired, and a bit groggy, but nothing terrible. "How long was I asleep?"
"We left the clinic about two hours ago," Fuhe answers.
A sizable nap, then.
"I have made a few changes to your treatment plan, Yao'er," his father informs him. "The remaining treatments will all be carried out here, with your husband and myself both present. No arguments. The healers can haul whatever items they need here and then back, I'll assign them guards to help if I must."
Meng Yao slumps against the back of the couch. He'll have to apologize later to Wen Qing for making her life so much more difficult.
Notes:
Xichen's qin's name is 欷声 Xisheng, which is a much more poetic name than I've ever come up with before that translates roughly to 'the sound of a sob'.
Chapter 26: Meng Yao is through with overanalyzing his desires
Summary:
Xichen returns to his husband after visiting Jin Guangshan in the dungeon. He's in an unusual mood.
Notes:
Holy moly I haven't updated in an entire month???? How did that happen... idk. Sorry guys T - T
Hopefully this update makes up for it! Another branching path, right here. If you want to see what happened while Xichen and Wen Ruohan were visiting Jin Guangshan in the dungeon before you read the aftermath, click here. If not, truck on through this ridiculously long beginning note.
Really, another smut chapter? Really?
*sigh* yes, this chapter is mostly smut. Besotted, enthusiastic xiyao who cannot get enough of each other is my thing, okay? Pop down to the end notes if you decide to skip and want the important points.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Carefully planning out his own project to show to his father makes Meng Yao feel far too similar to Xue Yang. This isn't like the delinquent's plan to gain more power, though. The watchtowers are different.
He's not sure if his father will even give this proposal the time of day. He certainly didn't care about Xue Yang's.
"It's different," he mutters stubbornly to himself. The watchtowers will protect the common people. They aren't to increase his own power or glory. He just has no idea if his father cares about the common people. At least this will gauge his opinions in that area.
He sighs. He's starting to get lonely, and he feels silly and childish. His husband has been gone for less than an hour, and suddenly he turns into a needy mess. Xichen is visiting the dungeon to see what is going on with Jin Guangshan. He is fine. He will be back soon. Meng Yao leans into the communication matrix, and feels Xichen gently push back. It's almost a subconscious thing at this point, pressing on the matrix when he's stressed or when he feels his husband poking at it. Has he developed separation anxiety? No, that's ridiculous. Meng Yao is an adult who does not have anxiety.
There are only two more paragraphs left until he finishes the written portion of his watchtower proposal. There is still the matter of the map, where he will mark out the recommended positions of each tower, and the budget he will need to make, and the request for manpower… but the written proposal is the hardest.
He'll do this. He'll put forth a suggestion a hundred times better than Xue Yang's, and his father will look at it and appreciate it. His father will be proud.
Meng Yao puts down his brush and cradles his head in his hands. He feels threatened by Xue Yang. He can't deny it anymore. Usually he comes up with a plot to completely destroy someone after he realizes that they frighten them, but in this case the conspiracy to ruin Xue Yang was finished long before Meng Yao put together how scared he is of the young man.
The door rattles and opens. Meng Yao fights the instinct to jump to his feet, since he is still banned from walking, to greet A-Huan. His husband's face is tense.
"Hello," Meng Yao says after a moment of Xichen just standing in the doorway staring. "Are you alright?" Then he pauses, frowning. Something is missing from his husband's usual sapphire and navy attire. "A-Huan, what happened to your shoes?"
"They got dirty." He looks down at his bare feet. "I wasn't going to bring the kind of filth that got on them into our rooms."
The dungeons are usually quite clean, even at the lowest levels. There are plenty of servants to clean up torture remnants. "So you walked all the way back here barefoot?" He arches a brow. Are you really my husband?
It's me, A-Yao, he writes back. He shuffles in place a bit, then finally closes the door behind him. "I'm sorry. I just." He huffs. "It was not what I expected."
If whatever torture was being inflicted on Jin Guangshan frightened or disquieted him, why doesn't he just say so?
"A-Huan." Meng Yao shifts up to his knees. He's about to stand up when Xichen comes to his senses.
"No, wait. You aren't supposed to walk, I'll come over there."
"Good. Let me hold you."
It looks like he needs exactly that. Xichen rushes over to the table, drops to his knees, and scoops Meng Yao into his arms.
Something can't have gone horribly wrong, because there was nothing but companionable silence in the communication matrix. On the other hand, Xichen is shaking in his arms. Maybe he's just overwhelmed.
"Well. Hello," Meng Yao chuckles, his nerves eased as they always are by his husband's embrace. Hopefully his own easiness can relax Xichen. "How did it go?"
Xichen is practically vibrating with energy. "He's an evil man," he murmurs into Meng Yao's neck. "Evil. I only did what was right."
Meng Yao tugs gently on Xichen's hair. So he did something to Jin Guangshan. He warned him that Wen Ruohan might try to pressure him into participating in the torture, but Meng Yao never imagined he would succeed.
"Did you kill him?" Though he doubts his gentle, sweet husband ever would take the life of a prisoner, if anyone could provoke Xichen to violence, it would be Jin Guangshan. Meng Yao can persuade his father to forgive him for denying the torturers their fun. It isn't a problem, Jin Guangshan was not long for this world anyway. Perhaps it was a mercy killing. That suits Xichen.
Xichen's head flies up. "No!" The vaguely offended expression melts like snow, and A-Huan looks down. "Killing him probably would have been kinder."
That is… concerning. Certainly not a mercy killing then. Meng Yao cups his husband's cheek. "What did you do to him?"
"He said. He said he wished…" Xichen gulps. Rage and fear and shame buzz around him, behind his eyes. "I can't believe anyone would consider such a vile thing!" Fingernails scrabble clumsily in the small of Meng Yao's back, so unlike the usual careful tenderness his husband prefers. "Jin Guangshan said that he wished…." He is struggling to get whatever this is out of his mouth, but he also look like he desperately needs to speak. Meng Yao squeezes his husband tight, nuzzling his shoulder.
"It's okay. Take all the time you need."
Finally he scrunches his eyes shut and whispers, "He wanted to rape you, A-Yao, he said he wished he had. And it made me so angry and so I-- crushed him."
Meng Yao has suspected that for a long time. He knows Jin Guangshan is lecherous and amoral. He would try to fuck anything he thought was pretty. And Meng Yao knows he is pretty.
But--
"What do you mean, you crushed him?"
Xichen's face is buried in Meng Yao's neck. He trembles like a kitten. "I was so angry. I was so angry I couldn't see, I couldn't think…"
He pulls the pins out of his husband's hair and removes his headpiece. "Whatever it is, are you ashamed?"
Xichen's throat visibly works with his swallow. "No." The trembling subsides a bit. "That's what worries me."
"Are you scared I'll be angry?" Meng Yao tries. "Whatever you did to him, I can guarantee you I've done worse to someone who deserved it less."
The reminder of his past experiences with torture makes Xichen's head snap up. "He was gleefully informing me of his past rapes, of how little he regrets them, and how he would happily continue to rape if given the chance. So I made certain that, should he ever escape Nightless City, he will remain unable to enjoy sex with anyone ever again. With or without their consent." Xichen's eyes burn, hot and angry. His fists are clenched. He really doesn't feel bad about what he did, his shame is because he enjoyed it.
Meng Yao's mouth closes with an audible click. Damn it all, this kind of violent dispensing of justice should not get him going, not like this, but it does. This perfect, radiant, righteous man in front of him is his, and Meng Yao is through with overanalyzing his desires. They are wed. A-Huan is his.
He throws his arms around Xichen's neck and drags him into a kiss, hot and full of tongue and teeth. Xichen responds in kind, briefly surprised, but makes room for Meng Yao to shuffle onto his lap, to seize fistfuls of hair to make the angle better for them both.
"If we weren't already married I would propose to you right now," Meng Yao gasps when they pause for breath. "Fuck I love you."
"I love you too," he replies, nuzzling Meng Yao's cheek. "I would marry you a thousand times."
Strong, confident hands wrap around his thighs, helping Meng Yao situate himself as Xichen stands. His husband cups his ass, keeping their bodies glued together, and carries Meng Yao to the bedroom.
"Roll onto your stomach," Meng Yao says as they settle down onto the bed, stripping off the last of their clothes. Xichen is radiant like this, his entire strong back and round ass and long legs lain out for Meng Yao. He takes one finger easily, then two, and Meng Yao realizes how small his hands are. His husband is a large man, strong and capable.
"I want," he gasps, and Xichen cranes his head to the side and kisses him despite the awkward angle.
"Yes," he husks. "Yes."
They lay a towel out over the bed to keep the sheets dry. Two fingers turn into four, oil dripping, and then his thumb slides in.
"A-Yao," Xichen gasps, muscled back arching, rim spasming. "Your hand…"
Meng Yao kisses the curve of his spine. "My hand. It's inside you. How does it feel?"
"Good-- want it-- you…" he manages, rolling his hips back, lifting them just enough for Meng Yao to get his free hand around his husband's cock.
"You're so hard," he chuckles against Xichen's shoulder. "Is this for me?" He shifts his hand a bit deeper, and Xichen comes, his body shuddering. The hot sheath around Meng Yao's hand goes tighter and tighter.
"For you," he half-sobs. "Always for you. Everything for you."
He gentles him through it with little kisses to his spine, until he stops shaking.
"Inside," he whispers. "Please, please, A-Yao…"
Meng Yao licks his lips, gently drawing his hand free. It's drenched in sweet-smelling oil. "You want me to fuck you?"
"Yes," Xichen gasps.
He catches the tip of his husband's ear between his teeth. Xichen is still mostly hard in his hand. "Ask me," he husks. "Tell me what you want."
That jade-pale back arches. "Want… want my A-Yao to spill inside me," he pants. "I want to taste you. I want you on my tongue, in my mouth, all around me. I need you."
He licks away a line of sweat on Xichen's neck. "Alright, love. You can have me, I'll fuck you. And then you can roll us over and taste me all you like."
His husband is insatiable. Meng Yao fucks him like that, face down on the bed, till they both come. He obeys his every demand of A-Yao harder faster more with his own yes deeper better A-Huan until they both explode, perfectly in sync, and Meng Yao spills inside his lover just as he asked. Xichen doesn't wait a moment before he flips their positions, turns him on his stomach, spreads his ass, and eats Meng Yao out until he cries and begs to be fucked. He doesn't have to beg very much.
"All for you," Xichen growls in his ear as he fucks Meng Yao on all fours, crouched over him, back to chest. Breathing together, moving together.
"I love you," Meng Yao gasps through his tears and breathless bliss, back arching. "Never let me go."
"Never," Xichen agrees. His big hands cover both of Meng Yao's where they're fisted into the sheets, and they tumble together through another mutual orgasm.
"It isn't about the violence," Xichen murmurs into his hair as they lounge together in the afterglow.
"I'm sorry?"
Those strong arms squeeze him a bit tighter. "I like protecting you. I like making you feel good. And apparently I like avenging you as well."
Oh.
Meng Yao really should have been able to figure that out for himself. Considering that making Meng Yao come also gives Xichen what he describes as soul-shattering orgasms, it's not surprising that he would take great pleasure in making the man who kicked him down two flights of steps and permanently injured him suffer.
He kisses the soft spot under Xichen's ear. "I appreciate it," he murmurs.
Maybe for their first anniversary, if they're both still alive and on the continent by then, they can track down the five men from Qinghe who remain. Together.
He whispers this to Xichen, who shivers faintly. "I would want to do it the right way," he muses. "With a trial and a proper execution. It's the least they deserve."
Apparently neither of them are too tired for yet another round, as the air between them goes heavy and electric.
Pushing his husband underneath him, Meng Yao straddles Xichen's hips and lazily rides him, their favorite way to gentle the intense sexual tension between them that only ratchets higher and higher with every second of eye contact. If they didn't find a way to ease it, they would be stuck in a permanent loop, unable to escape the other's gravity or the mutual need to be closer, deeper, now. It makes Meng Yao dizzy with desire just to think about how compatible they are.
Xichen leans half-propped against the headboard and sits up enough to suck a dark mark into Meng Yao's neck, rubbing his nipples with his thumbs and whispering sweet praises. One hand comes to his hip, helping him keep the pace, making sure he takes Xichen's cock all the way inside before sliding up to sit on just the tip. He feels his insides tense and relax, heavy with satisfaction. His thighs are sore, his ass more so, but the languid pace feels like a massage on the well-used muscles of his rim.
"I can't get enough of you," Xichen murmurs between kisses to Meng Yao's neck, sucking gently on one earlobe. "I want to crawl inside you and never come out."
"I would let you," Meng Yao husks in response. A-Huan already has a permanent place in his heart. It isn't a far-fetched idea that he could stay. "I would hold you deep inside me and I wouldn't let you out, ever."
"I'd be happy to be kept." Xichen's teeth scrape up his windpipe. "You'd never be empty, never be cold, so full and warm with me."
That does it for them both. Meng Yao wraps his fingers with silky hair and comes, shuddering and losing his vision. His husband makes good on his promise, filling Meng Yao's belly with warmth and cradling him close.
"Fuck," Meng Yao gasps. The orgasm is slow but no less intense for it, drawn out by sensitivity and their entwined golden cores.
It's unclear how much time passes with them like that, clinging hard to each other and unable to take a full breath.
Notes:
1. Meng Yao is preparing to propose the watch towers to WRH while he and Xichen are visiting JGS in the dungeon
2. XC comes back kinda weird. Turns out the meeting with JGS was awful and XC smushed his dick with his foot
3. MY thinks that's hot
4. They fuck a lot about it
Chapter 27: Let my son be free
Summary:
Lanling has been raized. General Mu returns victorious, with something for everyone. Even Meng Yao.
Notes:
This chapter is very intense. It contains a bit of spectacle suffering (JZX and NMJ), discussions of murder, and discussions of sexual slavery, assault, and some ableist and misogynistic language.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The parade welcoming back General Mu is beautiful and lavish. Meng Yao, on his final day of this damn walking ban, watches from the comfort of Xichen's lap at the end of the parade route, on the top of the stairs to the Fire Palace. Wanyin is on the emperor's lap, while Jin Zixuan and Nie Mingjue sit on the ground by his feet. Nie Mingjue looks exhausted. He's naked again, except for the glittering chains and piercings that cover him. One of the chains clips to the barbell on his tongue, and it's pulled taught, forcing him to extend the wet muscle and display the piercing. Every so often Wen Ruohan strokes it with the pads of his fingers, drenched in wine.
Heaps of treasure are carried in on litters, and there is even more stuffed into carriages. There is so much gold. Among the glittering piles of what's left of Carp Tower, there are spices and silk and medicine, weapons, blankets, fine clothes… and people. More than he expected.
The children are bundled into a carriage. Some look out the window with big, anxious eyes, while others seem to be huddled in the corners. The adults are separated into two groups, according to the general's final letter before returning home. One group is the human cauldrons, while the other is people General Mu and her soldiers deemed too useful or too interesting to kill.
General Mu herself rides a stunningly beautiful horse at the head of the parade. Several members of the crowd toss her flowers, which she accepts with warm smiles and waves. She seems to be a major heartthrob among the young adults and youths of Qishan.
"Your excellency," she says when she reaches the end of the route, which deposits her in front of the large dais where Meng Yao, Xichen, and the emperor and his harem sit. Mu Fenyan dismounts her horse and kneels. "Your excellency. My prince. I have returned victorious."
His father gestures for her to stand. "Well done, general. Though I know you will never disappoint me."
The parade moves inside the Fire Palace. Meng Yao hates being carried in front of this many people, but the only bits of gossip he hears are a woman saying it is only right to take advantage of Xichen's musculature, and an older man who mumbled about never walking again if he had a strapping young thing to carry him. They read it as indulgence, not weakness. Good.
Nie Mingjue is carried too, because he cannot walk in his bound state. Wanyin and Jin Zixuan walk of their own accord. After his father sits down in his throne, Wanyin crawls into his lap and Jin Zixuan sits on the floor without fussing.
The parade streams into the throne room. The spoils are all shown off, to the royalty and to everyone else. None of the gold is from the actual building that was melted down. Apparently the tower, after being set alight by powerfully hot flame talismans, disintegrated into a fine golden dust instead of melting, as did every person inside who was not removed.
"Much of it blew away on the wind," Mu Fenyan finishes. "It's coated the landscape. You should visit sometime, your excellency, it seems as if the very land is made of gold."
Jin Zixuan looks very much like he wants to curl up into a little ball and die. After finding out about his involvement in the coup attempt, Meng Yao half expected him to be executed. He never thought Jin Zixuan could be smart enough to smuggle out information on the layout of Wen Ruohan's personal quarters. Since the coup's failure, the former first concubine has been severely demoted. But Wen Ruohan isn't a wasteful man, and he gets off on hurting and subjugating people. The last few days have probably been waking nightmares for him.
He is staring with a look of shocked horror at the people. Meng Yao wonders how many of them he knows. He assumes several, since up until now, Jin Zixuan's eyes had seemed permanently glazed over. Maybe there is still something in him for Meng Yao to try and save. Maybe his mind isn't completely broken.
"Let us deal with the children first," the emperor declares. "I imagine the little ones are quite frightened, and overwhelmed."
The children are herded to the center of the room, most clinging fearfully to one another. Meng Yao counts twenty-seven in total, two more than General Mu reported on in her letter. The last two must have been found sometime after. They cluster together, frightened.
"My son and his husband have first pick." Wen Ruohan leans on his arm to look at them. "What do you think, Yao'er? Huan'er?"
They briefly discussed this last night, though Meng Yao didn't expect to be given first pick. Neither of them felt like they were in a position to care properly for a child. Not while they're plotting.
"I don't think we are quite ready for that yet, a-die," Meng Yao says. "Let the others go ahead."
Couples step forward to claim one or two, those who are childless first. Ru Minyu and Cai Shuili claim the youngest, a little girl who is quietly sucking on her thumb and watching the proceedings. She doesn't speak, and one of the other children informs them she hasn't learned yet. She seems maybe three years old.
Then the eight human cauldrons are brought forward. They stand shoulder to shoulder, with a powerful looking woman at their center. She is ethereally beautiful, young-looking and fair. Meng Yao has never seen her before, but he has a decent guess as to her identity.
"Madam Jin," Wen Ruohan greets, confirming Meng Yao's suspicions. "Discovering that you are a cauldron was very surprising to me."
She raises her chin. "The Lanling Jin will not bow to you. Tyrant."
Wen Ruohan laughs, full and loud enough to echo. "Oh, Madam, you already have. The Lanling Jin was the first to surrender."
"Under my husband." She sets her jaw. "I am not a coward like him. Is he dead yet?"
"Not yet." Ruohan smiles. "I am still having my fun with him." He shifts forward in his throne. "Now, what am I to do with you?"
Madam Jin glowers fiercely. "I would sooner die than be one of your whores."
His father laughs again. "I have no need of more concubines, the ones I have now are enough for me. It would be a shame to execute you, but if you will not swear an oath of fealty to the Wen..." he glances down at Jin Zixuan. "Would you do it for the sake of your son?"
Madam Jin's eyes narrow. "A-Xuan," she murmurs. "Are you hurt?"
He says nothing, looking down at the ground. He trembles.
"Answer your mother, my peony," Wen Ruohan says firmly.
"Yes," Jin Zixuan murmurs.
"Swear an oath of fealty to me and I will allow you to see your son a few times a week," Wen Ruohan offers. "Refuse and he will watch you die."
Jin Zixuan's head snaps up. He looks at his mother with desperate, pleading eyes. "Mom..."
Meng Yao's heart wrenches.
A long and tense silence falls on the throne room. Madam Jin steps forward, then back. "I would make you a counter offer," she finally says, voice ringing loud and clear.
Wen Ruohan raises an eyebrow.
"Take me instead. Let my son be free."
Something in Meng Yao's chest shrieks. Something that remembers the dozens of times Meng Shi put herself between Meng Yao and a client, the dozens of times she threw herself on the mercy of the merciless to protect him.
The emperor bursts out laughing. "You honestly think I would trade away my lovely peony for a half-used cauldron?" He raises a hand.
He's going to have her killed. Right here. Jin Zixuan is going to have to watch.
"A-die," Meng Yao says quietly. "Wait."
Wen Ruohan drops his hand. "What is it, my son?"
His mind whirls. "It doesn't seem fitting for her to die before Jin Guangshan. I want every person he ever subjugated to outlive him." It's flimsy reasoning, but maybe Wen Ruohan will chalk it up to Meng Yao being sentimental.
Her eyes snap to him, sharp as a dagger. "I thought you looked familiar." She takes a small step toward the dais. "How you wormed your way into such a position baffles me, but no matter how fancily you are dressed, how many good men you make into your toys, you will never be more than trash rightfully thrown down the stairs." She spits on the floor.
Meng Yao feels like he's been sucker punched, all the goodwill that had bloomed in his heart for her dying with the blow. She remembers him. She recognizes him. She was there when he was thrown down the stairs and did nothing.
And she just signed her own death warrant.
Jin Zixuan knows it too. He jumps to his feet to bow in front of Meng Yao.
"Please forgive her, your majesty," he says, forehead on the floor. "Please, please, I beg you." He shifts to Wen Ruohan. "Master, spare my mother's life, please! She is hot-headed and--"
The emperor's foot catches Jin Zixuan in the jaw. He falls backwards with the force, right off the top step of the dais. Meng Yao's stomach clenches as he rolls. The dais only has eight stairs, and they're lightly padded.
His mother catches him at the bottom, and helps him stand up.
"Mother please," Jin Zixuan begs. He has a new bruise on his temple. "Don't be a fool."
In a blast of heat, Wen Ruohan casts an array. The magic zips down the stairs and hits Madam Jin forcefully. She goes rigid.
"A-Xuan," his father says darkly, "this is your only chance. Turn around and come back to your rightful place or suffer the consequences along with your mother the same way you suffered them with your father."
Jin Zixuan turns an inhuman shade of white. He spins and runs up the stairs to throw himself back down by Wen Ruohan's feet.
"Good," he says coolly. "Captain Jiefu, get this whore out of my sight. She is to kept in the guard's common room, for free use, until death or core depletion."
Meng Yao buries his nose in Xichen's neck. He doesn't watch as she's dragged away. He closes his ears to Jin Zixuan's begging. There was nothing he could have done. He isn't even sure if he wants to try and help her anymore.
You tried, A-Yao, Xichen writes. She insulted you knowing that your father would not let it stand. This is not your fault.
Meng Yao still aches in places he hasn't ached in for a long time.
"Now that that is taken care of," Wen Ruohan says. "Let us proceed."
Meng Yao drags his head back up. He isn't crying, he refuses to cry. He needs to move on, there are more people to try and save. The other cauldrons look lost without Madam Jin leading them. They hold onto each other and look around with wide eyes. They seem even more afraid than the children, which is reasonable. Unlike the children, they have a better understanding of what is going on.
Leaning forward in his throne, Wen Ruohan looks over them. "To my understanding, all of you were made like this as punishment for a crime."
Slow nods from the seven men and women. One man, who looks barely an adult, raises his chin defiantly.
"I have no regrets."
The emperor chuckles. "Oh? What was your crime, spitfire?"
"I attacked Jin Guangshan because he raped my sister." He crosses his arms.
Wen Ruohan raises an eyebrow, looking intrigued. "You did, hm? That was very brave." He glances around the room. "Did your sister survive the attack on Lanling? Is she here?"
"Yes." The boy folds his arms. "If anyone harms her I will break my own neck. A broken cauldron is no use to anyone."
Now Wen Ruohan openly laughs. It's not a cruel laugh, though. It's genuine delight. "And what is your name, vicious little one?"
"Yan Yunong." The boy squares his shoulders and looks up the dais. He looks like he expects to die, and plans to face it without fear.
"Well, Young Master Yan, would you like to pay a visit to Jin Guangshan in my dungeons?" Wen Ruohan smiles, both hands resting on Wanyin's waist. "As my guest, of course, not a prisoner. Afterwards I'm sure we can find a place for you and your sister to live, and to resume your training as a Wen disciple."
"You would take a cauldron as a disciple?" Someone gasps from the crowd.
Wen Ruohan narrows his eyes. "Are you questioning my decisions?"
Whoever spoke wisely stays silent, and melts into the crowd.
"I thought not. Cauldrons can still cultivate." Wen Ruohan glances to one of his guards. "Xingxi, escort Young Master Yan and his sister to a seat, and make sure they are comfortable."
The archer bows. "Yes, excellency."
Anyone who hates Jin Guangshan is a friend of mine, Meng Yao writes as Zhan Xingxi leads Yan Yunong and a young woman from the other group of adults to a seat along the sides of the throne room. Yan Yunong puts one protective arm around his little sister.
The next cauldron is a slim man who looks tired. His eyes are nervously cast to his feet, but besides that he seems alright. A girl around Meng Yao's age guides him with a hand on his arm. She's a cauldron too.
"Names," Wen Ruohan says firmly.
The girl tugs the man forward, and they both bow. "My name is Qin Cangye, your excellency, and this is my daughter Qin Su."
"The leader of the Qin sect?" Wen Ruohan is visibly startled. "What did you and your daughter do to be turned into cauldrons? I was under the impression you and Jin Guangshan were friends."
Qin Cangye's eyes stare down at the floor. "He raped my wife, your excellency, and the child… my daughter…" he trails off briefly. "My wife never told me until it came to light. She killed herself out of shame. I tried to poison Jin Guangshan. I was made into a cauldron as punishment."
Wen Ruohan shifts Wanyin off his lap to stand up. He looks darkly amused. "I see the resemblance. You and my son are much the same." He looks at Meng Yao for a long, inquisitive moment, then back down the stairs at the two cauldrons.
"Excellency, do what you will with me, I will submit," Qin Su says, "but I beg you to spare my father. He is a good and just man who raised me well, even if we share no blood."
"Maiden Qin, do not fear," his father says. "I know well that family ties can transcend blood." He looks at Meng Yao again. "How old are you, Miss Qin?"
"I will be twenty next month, your excellency." She bows again. She is almost two years younger than Meng Yao. Two years after visiting Meng Shi, Jin Guangshan raped the wife of his friend and subordinate.
"Yao'er," his father says. "Would you like a little sister?"
Meng Yao's world briefly rocks. A sister. A little sister. He meets Qin Su's eyes, and he sees himself in them. He sees Jin Guangshan in the shape of her jaw and brow. He sees the terror he knows all too well for a beloved parent, the terror he could not banish from Jin Zixuan.
"Yes," he says. "I would like that very much." He pauses, letting his eyes widen a touch. "You will take care of Qin Cangye as well?"
"Of course." He shifts Wanyin to sit beside him in the throne. "Qin Cangye, would you accept my proposal to become an Imperial Consort?"
Qin Cangye blinks. He visibly pinches his arm. "I... am a man, your excellency."
"Yes," his father says. "That is not an issue."
"I am a cauldron."
"I can see that."
Meng Yao swallows frustration. Why can't Qin Cangye just accept? Getting hung up on semantics is just going to get him and his daughter killed!
"I am still mourning my wife."
"I have my concubines to satisfy me," Wen Ruohan counters. "Do not be foolish. If you wed me I shall treat you with the same respect I did my first wife, and call your daughter my own. You may keep your surname. You will want for nothing."
He turns to his daughter. He's whispering, but Meng Yao reads his lips. "A-Su, how do you feel about this?"
"I think it's the best offer we are going to get," she whispers back. "I understand you don't want to disrespect mother's memory..."
"...but she would want us to be safe," he finishes. He turns back to the dais. "Well... I suppose I accept, your excellency."
Wen Ruohan smiles. "Fuhe, escort Cangye and his daughter to a comfortable seat. We shall discuss business in my quarters later."
Meng Yao catches Qin Su's eye as she and her father take a seat by Yan Yunong and his sister. He tries, with every fiber of his being, to project to her that everything will be alright, that he has this under control.
Do you know her? Xichen asks.
No, Meng Yao admits. But she is my sister. I need to protect her.
None of the other cauldrons turn out to be so sympathetic. Out of the five remaining, two were involved in some kind of human trafficking ring, one was a serial child molester, and the final two had infuriated Jin Guangshan by stalking and harassing Madam Jin.
I don't understand the criteria to warrant this kind of punishment, Xichen writes.
I assume the only criteria was to make Jin Guangshan angry enough, Meng Yao responds.
I wonder what Madam Jin's crime was.
Meng Yao snorts quietly. Probably asking him to be faithful.
The remaining cauldrons are handed out by Wen Ruohan. One goes to General Mu's second-in-command, a man who seems quite keen on getting the child molester alone. Two are made general property of the guard along with Madam Jin, one is to be used by the soldiers who conquered Lanling, and the final one as communal property for Wen Ruohan's personal guardsmen.
We will probably have to claim at least a little bit of the treasure, Xichen writes. It doesn't make sense for us not to.
Meng Yao claims a manuscript on cauldron formation that seems to have been a supplemental work for the first one he read so long ago, a book on the language of Dongying, and a beautiful zheng that catches Xichen's eye.
"Can you play the zheng, A-Huan?" he asks quietly. The point is moot since they already claimed it, but he's curious.
"Yes," he responds. "It has been a few years, but I was trained in it at the same time as the qin."
Daiyu and three servants escort them back to their rooms afterwards, but they hardly spend any time there. They rush to the emperor's quarters, running into Wen Fuhe on the way.
"Huoyao," he says. "I was just going to send someone to fetch you."
In his father's receiving room, they all take a seat. None of the concubines are anywhere to be seen. Qin Su and her father sit across from Wen Ruohan, who has Xing Longwei on one side and a scribe on the other.
"Yao'er, I'm glad you came so quickly." His father stands up to embrace him. "We were just about to start discussing things."
On the table is a copy of the same adoption request that Meng Yao himself signed, such a long time ago. It has a few minor alterations, but looks largely identical.
Qin Su also stands to greet them. "Wen Huoyao," she says, bowing. "You may not remember me, but I remember you."
He blinks. "Have we met?"
"Yes. At the very beginning of the war, you helped me and by retinue escape an active battle zone. You saved my life." She bows again.
Oh. That was before he came to Nightless City, just after he parted ways with Xichen. "I only did what anyone would have done." He takes her wrist and tugs her upright. "You are my sister, there's no need for such formality."
"Indeed." Wen Ruohan gestures for them to sit. "I realize I may have put you in an awkward position with so many onlookers. If you wish not to marry, Qin Cangye, I will not hold it against you. However, it is the only way I can claim Qin Su as my child without fully replacing you as her father."
Qin Cangye blinks. "I only wish for my daughter to be safe," he says firmly. "Everything else is incidental."
"Then you shall be my consort," Wen Ruohan declares. "There is a wing in the west end of the Fire Palace that you may have. I do not require your services in bed. I do not even require that you take three bows with me, so long as you sign the paperwork." He pushes another paper at him. A marriage contract.
"This is all happening very fast," he mutters. But he signs the paper without an ounce of regret on his face. After a moment, Qin Su takes the offered brush and signs her own name.
Meng Yao has a sister. A sister.
Notes:
If you're itching for poor Nie Mingjue and Jin Zixuan to have a seconds reprieve, check out this extra!
Me, inventing the rarest pair ever: anybody want some WRH/QCY smut? He will mostly fade into the background for the main story. Idk I like him and think he deserved better.
The zheng/guzheng is a lot like a guqin in that it's a flat bodied string instrument, but where a qin has seven strings the zheng has twenty-one. I almost chose an erhu instead of a zheng, but I have a hard time picturing Xichen playing an erhu.
Chapter 28: Meng Yao has to use a genuine weakness, otherwise Wen Ruohan may well notice he's being played
Summary:
Qin Su is settled in. Wanyin has a problem. These two things are not connected.
Notes:
If you haven't already read it and you want to, there is an extra that comes chronologically before this chapter! Click here if you want to read it, but remember that the extras are all supplemental and you will not miss anything major by skipping them. Please pay close attention to the tags and take care of yourselves!
This chapter contains onscreen minor character death, rape aftermath of the same minor characters, and the aftermath of brainwashing.
Chapter Text
While he would have liked to show Qin Su (his sister!) around the Fire Palace, she seems to want nothing more than to sleep for a week. He doesn't blame her. He and Xichen are allowed to walk her to her room, though, since she seems half dead on her feet. He can relate, his chest feels tight and he's beyond tired. Between all the anxiety of the last few days and the cooling weather, Meng Yao does not feel well.
"How long have you been a cauldron?" Meng Yao asks softly as they walk.
"Not long. The… surgery only took place two weeks ago."
She explains how the truth of her parentage came to light in the flat tone of someone who was forced to tell a painful story too many times in front of unsympathetic strangers. How her mother hung herself, her father attacked Jin Guangshan in revenge, and they were both taken into custody.
Meng Yao wraps his hand around the hilt of his dagger. It quiets his anger enough to stay out of his voice. "Are any of the cultivators who used you or your father still alive?"
She shakes her head. "No one ever used me. My father protected me as long as he could, and by the time he couldn't the cultivation conference was going on. Everything was in chaos after that, as you know."
Meng Yao makes himself release the Seer's Dagger. "Your father will be fine," he says, surprised that he believes it himself. His father looked at Qin Cangye with respect from the moment the man admitted to attacking Jin Guangshan. He suspects Wen Ruohan does have some sexual desire towards him as well, surely he wouldn't have made the offer of marriage so quickly if he didn't, but the respect will keep him safe. "He will never be used as a cauldron again."
Meng Yao arranges for someone, either Jiang Yanli or Wen Qing, to come visit her, whichever has the time first. He does eventually want to bring her in on their plan, if only to prevent her from becoming too comfortable here, but now is not the time. Her rooms have not been warded against eavesdropping, and the poor girl is likely still in shock. Her whole world has been upended in the course of two weeks.
But she is safe now. That's what matters.
He makes sure she knows she can call on him, informs her of the impending visitation tomorrow, and then leaves her be. A servant will bring her a snack in a few hours. He does not go back to his rooms, however, until after slipping the guard in the hallway a few coins, with the promise of more should he be a reliable informant.
"She seems very kind," Xichen says as he carries Meng Yao back to their rooms. "Kind, but with a sturdy heart."
"Agreed."
When they reach their rooms, Xichen stops short. Outside their door, Jiang Wanyin is pacing back and forth.
"Wanyin? What are you doing here?"
He jerks his chin at the door.
"Alright, we can go inside," Meng Yao says.
His husband carefully deposits him on the couch. Wanyin snatches his writing block and stick from Meng Yao's hand the second he removes it.
Something is wrong with me, he writes in an almost incomprehensible scribble.
"What's wrong?" Meng Yao asks.
It's hard to explain. I. He stops and looks at Meng Yao, his eyes huge, pupils shrunk to tiny pinpricks. You're my dearest friend and I will never betray you.
Meng Yao feels his brow furrow. "Ah, thank you, I think." He reaches out with his qi, checking to make sure this really is his friend Jiang Wanyin and not some fake. After a moment he concludes that, if it is a fake, it's a superb one.
He did something to me. Wanyin's hands are shaking. He looks like he might be sick.
"Who did something to you?" Xichen asks gently, resting a hand on his back.
Master.
"Master?" Meng Yao repeats, fearing his eyebrows might vanish into his hairline at any moment. Wanyin has never called anyone master before. "Do you mean Wen Ruohan?"
Yes. He's my master and I love him. His grip on the writing stick is so tight his knuckles are pale. He did something. I drank it. In my tea. I love him but I can't betray you.
Xichen enfolds both of Wanyin's hands in his. "Were you drugged?"
He nods.
Meng Yao's heart skips a beat. Is Wanyin compromised? If he is, they need to get him out of Nightless City now.
I can't explain. Too hard. He's trembling so hard, face pale.
"Perhaps I could try empathy," Xichen suggests. "If that would be alright with you."
Wanyin nods. I'm sorry. I can't. I don't know. Just do it.
Meng Yao has never seen anyone performing empathy before. It looks quite simple, Xichen holds his hands and closes his eyes.
"If I do not wake in one hour," he says, "ring one of the Clarity bells by my ear. It should bring me out of empathy."
The two clarity bells that Wanyin and Yanli gave then at their wedding hang on the wall next to the tapestry of Emperor Ai and Dong Xian. Meng Yao quickly gets one down and rushes back to kneel at Xichen's side.
Xichen is only out for twenty minutes. When he wakes, he gasps and falls back on his elbows.
"A-Huan!" Meng Yao touches a hand to his cheek.
"It is alright," he says, slightly winded. He scrunches his eyes shut. "There is a linguistic loophole. We are alright."
"What?"
Wanyin fidgets with his writing stick as Meng Yao helps Xichen sit back up. I can't betray you.
"Wen Ruohan used some kind of drug on him," Xichen explains. "On him and on Xiao Xingchen. Whatever it is, it puts a person in a vulnerable state where anything that is said to them becomes true." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Wen Ruohan used it to make Wanyin love him, but he also said that Wanyin is your dearest friend and he will never betray or hurt you. He said no such thing about himself."
Some kind of brainwashing drug. He'll need to look into that. If Wanyin is now incapable of betraying Meng Yao, that is objectively good for their plan, but it sounds like he's probably being torn in two. If he loves Wen Ruohan but can't betray Meng Yao, while Meng Yao is plotting to kill Wen Ruohan…
He reaches out to brush his knuckles against Wanyin's cheek. "Are you alright?"
No. Everything feels wrong. He shudders. I can still feel it in me. It hurts.
Xichen frowns. "If you can feel it…" trailing off, he looks Wanyin up and down. "May I try something? It might help."
Yes. Please. Anything.
Xichen holds Wanyin's head in both hands. A trickle of blue cultivation glows in his palms.
"I can feel it, too." He looks at Meng Yao. "A-Yao, I think we can draw out what remains of the drug in his system. It won't undo everything, but it should help."
"Like drawing out venom?" Meng Yao touches the nape of Wanyin's neck. He can feel it too, if he concentrates. Learning to draw out poison and venom is an important part of studying it, and it served him well while he was Wen Ruohan's head torturer. He's better at drawing venoms and poisons out of his own body, but applying the knowledge to someone else isn't difficult.
"Exactly like that."
Wanyin nods as best he can with four hands on his head and neck. Do it.
Meng Yao latches his qi onto the foreign substance he senses inside Wanyin. There's a lot of it. It's more insidious than any venom he's ever seen, and it lingers without dispersing. How long has Wanyin been like this? He makes little strained, pained noises between them.
It's so sticky, Xichen writes in the matrix. I worry I will hurt him if I pull too hard.
Meng Yao sets his jaw. Don't pull. It's easier to remove a particularly stubborn venom if you think of it as scraping.
Xichen's energy mellows out after that, and Wanyin stops whimpering.
Thank you, A-Yao.
It takes them about an hour to purge everything from Wanyin's body. By the time they are done he's covered in a sheen of sweat.
I feel so much better. I can think again.
Meng Yao wets a cloth with cool water and helps his friend clean up. "How long ago did this happen?"
Two days ago. He dosed Xiao Xingchen just before me.
Xichen's eyes widen. That would be the same day that he went to see Jin Guangshan in the dungeon. Fascinating. He did say that Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen were present at the time.
"How did you get here? What did you tell the emperor you were doing?"
Wanyin looks down at his hands. I jumped out the window. He isn't in his rooms. I should probably get back before I'm missed.
"We are all going to walk back together," Meng Yao says firmly. "And if anyone noticed that you were missing, I will tell them that I was overwhelmingly lonely and needed to see my dearest friend right away."
They run into Wen Ruohan just outside his rooms. Wanyin trembles a bit.
"A-die!" Meng Yao takes the initiative. If he is playing slightly vulnerable and in need of affection today, he'll have to sell it well. He bows, and stays in his bow. "I apologize for taking A-Cheng from your quarters without permission." He allows his lip to tremble a bit. "I needed to know he was well."
Wen Ruohan tugs him upright. "Is something wrong?"
"I did not sleep well last night," he says softly, like he's admitting a terrible secret. It is, in a sense. Meng Yao has to use a genuine weakness, otherwise Wen Ruohan may well notice he's being played. Meng Yao hates exposing his weaknesses, but he can do so tactfully and with purpose. "I dreamt… well, it does not really matter. I needed to know you, and A-Su, and A-Cheng were alright. I could not find you in your chambers, so A-Cheng and A-Huan comforted me."
As he expected, Wen Ruohan is completely taken aback by seeing him in distress. "I'm so sorry I was not here, Yao'er," he says gently and with a mild trace of guilt. "I was in the west wing, helping Cangye settle in." He draws Meng Yao into a hug, then frowns and draws back. He pressed one hand to Meng Yao's forehead. "Yao'er, you have a fever. Come in, sit down and let me take care of you."
Well, a fever would explain why he has been feeling so poorly.
Meng Yao ends up on the long couch in Wen Ruohan's entertainment room, stripped of his shoes and outer robe, curled into A-Huan's lap with a fluffy throw blanket over his shoulders and back. It smells like sweet smoke, like Wen Ruohan. He hates how the scent is comforting, especially mixed with A-Huan's usual minty smell. He has a cup of tea, something rich and deep in flavor, in his hand. He sips it slowly, not wanting to overwhelm his palate.
"Is this better?" His father asks. He is finger combing Meng Yao's hair. "You need to rest. I believe this is just a run-of-the-mill cold, but I refuse to risk it becoming worse."
"Alright," he says, trying to resist sleep. "Maybe I should… see Wen Qing or someone."
Wen Ruohan nods and sends a servant to fetch someone from Wen Qing's clinic to look at him. "I could summon Qin Su, if you wish to see her as well," he offers.
Meng Yao shakes his head. "No, a-die, don't bother her… she's--" he breaks off to yawn. He wasn't lying when he said he didn't sleep well last night.
"Close your eyes," Wen Ruohan prompts. "Huan'er and I will be right here."
Get some rest, A-Yao, Xichen writes. He starts humming, a soft tune that Meng Yao recognizes as the song of Sleep. Xichen often hums it at night when Meng Yao is struggling.
That's a dirty trick, A-Huan, he writes, the words suffused with love. He falls asleep with his nose tucked into A-Huan's collar, the soft throw blanket warm over his shoulders and back.
~*~
The next night, he doesn't feel any better, but his work is never done. Huoyao opens the door to the guard's common room. It's dark, and he doesn't want to risk lighting a lantern, so he's stuck with the tiny fingerlight generated by a talisman. At his side, Xichen squeezes his hand.
Huoyao didn't want him to come on this particular expedition, but his husband insisted. And so, here they are.
The three human cauldrons belonging to the guard are each chained in separate corners. They have no beds, no blankets. But they sleep, exhausted and in puddles of blood and congealed bodily fluids. It's disgusting. They make the whole room stink. Obviously they're taken somewhere else to relieve themselves, but nobody has bothered to clean them of the aftermath of their endless sexual servitude.
The two men, the ones who were turned into cauldrons for harassing Madam Jin, are closer to the door. Huoyao approaches the first one. He pinches his nose shut and slits his throat in one quick, easy motion. It's quiet, painless. At least according to what he's read. The Seer's dagger is so sharp, and his aim so steady he probably hardly feels the cut, until he feels nothing at all.
The second man dies the same way under Shuoyue's blade, neither having woken. Xichen was insistent about this, too. About sharing burdens.
Be careful to not get any blood on you, he reminds his husband in the matrix. He can do damage control if they are uncovered as the killers, but he would prefer not to.
When he reaches the corner with Madam Jin, her open eyes gleam in the meager light from his talisman. Xichen puts his hand against Huoyao's back.
"Why?" She whispers flatly, looking up at him. Her face is a mess of bruises, but she's clean. Unlike the other two, it's apparent she's fingercombed out her hair and wiped her face and body with the tattered remnants of her clothing.
"It's what my mother would have wanted," he says.
"Mine as well," Xichen says solemnly. A tiny drop of blood falls off the end of shuoyue, joining the mess the soldiers already made of this corner. "If she were in your place."
Madam Jin's eyes shine. She looks Xichen up and down, gives a little nod, and then turns to look at Huoyao. "Perhaps you are worth more than I thought," she says. "If only you showed this kind of spine when you came to Carp Tower, instead of crawling away like a kicked dog."
Huoyao smiles, little and mean. That's how he feels, even with Xichen's hand holding him. "I was a child, back then. I was very weak."
She laughs, hoarse and quiet. "And now you are anything but. I see." She raises her chin. "Well? Do it, boy. Let me out of this hell."
She doesn't flinch when Huoyao cuts her throat. She maintains his eyes the entire time, and, somehow that makes it easier. Xichen leans into him a bit, the sensation grounding.
He leaves her there, eyes still open, and cleans his dagger on the remnants of her robes. She only suffered this humiliation for a few hours. Her corpse will probably be abused, but he doubts she will care about that. Her body was never hers to begin with, and she isn't tied to it anymore. She's free.
Let's go back to our rooms, A-Yao, Xichen writes. You did the right thing.
Chapter 29: Why is there always someone pounding on the door?
Summary:
Meng Yao, ill with a cold and tired, is pulled from bed to help someone escape Nightless City.
Notes:
Well, my friends, the time has finally come. If you would like to know about the events that led to this chapter, as well as see it from Jin Zixuan's point of view, click here .
This chapter contains rape aftermath and injury treatment.
Chapter Text
Meng Yao is still tired and sick the following day, despite all the resting he's been doing, and all the energy Xichen has shared with him. Whatever medication Wen Qing gave him to break his fever is making him sleepy. He's so fuzzy and out of it he doesn't even protest being carried by Xichen. The walking ban is long over, but the idea of making his aching legs support his weight is nearly heartbreaking. His head feels stuffed with cotton. He just wants to sleep more, reclining against his husband's chest. His muscles are firm but pillowy. He feels designed for Meng Yao to rest on, strong arms bracketing him in place and keeping him safe.
More time passes in a sleepy haze. It feels good to rest, without any expectations or fears.
Of course it can't last.
Someone is pounding on the door.
Why is there always someone pounding on the door?
Meng Yao sits up. He's in bed, unsure of when that happened. The last thing he remembers, they were out in the sitting room. Xichen stops playing his qin, which he also started doing at some indeterminate point in time, stilling the strings.
"I'll take care of it, A-Yao," he says, crossing the room to kiss Meng Yao's cheek. "Lay back down, it's alright."
Meng Yao lays back down. He pulls the heavy quilt back up to his chin, the one Wen Ruohan gave them as a wedding gift. It's so soft, the softest and warmest blanket he's ever owned. It would have been a godsend back in the brothel, where cold seeped through every wall in the winter. His room in Qinghe, while still the best he had ever had at the time, was on the outskirts, and the harsher winters made Meng Yao feel like he would freeze to death no matter how many blankets he huddled under. The small rooms he had as a servant here in Qishan were better, not nearly as lavish as the ones he has now, but they were warm enough in the winter and cool enough in the summer that he hardly noticed.
Perhaps Wen Ruohan had been favoring him even back then.
"A-Yao, are you awake?"
Meng Yao blinks. He is awake. He's not sure when that changed.
"Yes." He sits up on his elbows. "What is it, A-Huan?"
"We can get Jin Zixuan out."
He rubs his eyes. "We can… what?"
"I have him overnight," Wen Qing's voice says from behind Xichen. Meng Yao jumps, he didn't know she was there. "He's injured, and I said I would need to observe him for the night. Wen Ruohan agreed. It should be enough time to cast the array and make a copy."
Meng Yao jumps out of bed. He still feels a little bit hazy, but less than before, and the adrenaline helps. "Alright. We are going to your clinic because I need another treatment for my cold, if anyone asks."
"Stay in your sleeping robe and let Zewu-jun carry you," she says. "If it seems urgent we are less likely to be disturbed."
He hates being seen so untidy, but he agrees with her. He doesn't even put on shoes.
I'm sorry you didn't get more sleep, Xichen writes.
Meng Yao tucks himself in tightly against his husband's chest. It is alright. I hope Jin Zixuan is not badly hurt.
Wen Qing said it was a humiliating and painful but not life threatening injury. Apparently he did something worthy of punishment, and was sent to spend today with Ru Minyu and Cai Shuili. She said they were very rough with him.
Probably something related to sex, then. Meng Yao knows all too well that unwanted intercourse can cause terrible injuries. Tearing. Internal perforations. Illness or infection. Even parasites.
Wen Qing holds the door for them into the back room. Inside, Jin Zixuan lays face down on the exam table, with a thin blanket and an unfamiliar robe covering him. It's pushed up to the small of his back. Qionglin is sitting at the foot of the table, doing something between Jin Zixuan's legs. Meng Yao averts his eyes. He would rather die than let anyone see him in such a state. He can at least do Jin Zixuan the basic courtesy of not gawking at his injuries.
Even so, he scrambles to pull the robes down. Wen Qing rushes to stop him.
"Stop that. Thrashing is only going to make it worse." She looks at whatever it is her brother is doing. "Well done, A-Ning. You've brought the swelling down significantly. One moment, young master Jin. I'm just going to put it back. If anything hurts, you must tell me."
He will relax if he knows we aren't staring, Meng Yao writes. Let's start setting up the array.
Xichen cuts a notch in his finger, and uses the blood to start on the array. Meng Yao rolls his hair into a knot at the back of his neck and secures it with a few pins he swipes from Wen Qing's apprentice's desk. If he leaves it down, it's going to drive him insane. He grinds a bowl of ink, spreads out a few blank talismans, and gets to work.
What personality traits should we give the copy? He writes.
Xichen pauses to reopen the wound on his finger. In this, his rapid healing is a detriment. Fearful and servile, he writes. That is how he tends to act from what I've seen, and also what Wen Ruohan seems to want him to be.
Meng Yao nods. He labels one talisman with 'fearful, especially of pain and loss of station' and another 'servile to the emperor's wishes'. He learned with the fake Huaisang that specificity was key with this array.
What else? Meng Yao chews on the end of his brush. Loyal?
Maybe. He certainly seems loyal to his family. Maybe 'loyal within reason'?
Meng Yao adds 'loyal to those who show him kindness', 'seeks for favors', and 'avoids confrontation'. Not putting 'proud' feels wrong, but if they are going to present this fake Jin Zixuan as being mind broken, it can't have any pride. And from what Meng Yao has seen of Jin Zixuan since the failed coup, he has no idea how far off the mark that may be.
It doesn't matter. They are getting him out. He will be able to heal, over time.
Behind them, the door opens. Meng Yao leaps into the air, spinning around, only to relax when he sees Jiang Yanli.
"A-Qing summoned me," she says. Then her eyes land on Jin Zixuan, and her face falls. "Young master Jin. Are you alright?"
Jin Zixuan hides his face in his arms. "Please don't look," he whispers faintly.
"Help us with the array," Meng Yao suggests. "Would you grind the root powder? I haven't even gotten started on that."
Seemingly glad of something to do, Yanli collects the dried roots and herbs needed to line the border of the array and tosses them into a pestle.
"We will get him out," Meng Yao whispers to her. "He's going to be fine."
She sets her lips in a thin line. "He is strong," she whispers back. "Where will he go?"
"Qinghe," Xichen whispers. "At least at first. Huaisang can hide him."
Meng Yao nods thoughtfully. "He will need someone to escort him. My father is hardly aware that Wen Qionglin exists, he's probably the best bet."
"Agreed," Yanli murmurs, turning her most intense disapproving elder sister face on the chunk of root that is refusing to grind properly.
Xichen nicks his finger on Shuoyue a third time. We will need some way to tell Huaisang that Qionglin and Zixuan are who they say, and that we sent them there, he writes.
The five attribute talismans are finally finished, after adding a pinch of the root powder to the center of each one. Meng Yao sets them out around the array, thinking on how they could manage this. Reference the porn he gave us for our wedding. On page seventeen, there's a note in his handwriting that says we would probably enjoy the featured position.
Xichen flushes a charming shade of pink. I haven't worked up the courage to look at more than the cover.
While that doesn't surprise him in the slightest, this isn't the time to get hung up on imagining introducing his husband to pornography. Maybe tomorrow night. Assuming he feels better. The position did look like something they would enjoy.
"There we are," Wen Qing says. "I'm going to check your internal muscles now, alright?" After a bit of thoughtful humming, she nods. "There. Good as new. You'll be a bit sore when the numbing wears off." She carefully places the robe back over Jin Zixuan's backside.
"Thank you," he says flatly. It sounds like he's somewhere very far away inside his head.
Qionglin strokes his cheek, works out a tangle in his hair with his always gentle fingers. "You did great. No blood. No lasting d-damage."
The distant misery on Jin Zixuan's face breaks a little. "Thanks."
Qionglin gives him that brilliant, soft smile that makes Meng Yao want to find some quiet corner where none of the world's hardships can touch the boy. "Of course. It's our j-job, our heritage, and our p-p-passion."
"Your passion is putting people's asses back together after they've been fucked inside out?" Jin Zixuan blurts.
Meng Yao cringes. A dark look flashes over Yanli's face, something more reminiscent of her brothers, not the gentle woman he knows her to be.
Qionglin laughs, though, light and airy. "I meant healing. B-but yes. I suppose that t-too."
Meng Yao clears his throat. "We are ready."
Jin Zixuan rolls over to face him, and Meng Yao takes in his expression. He looks stricken, and tired, but not brain dead. That's something. It seems he can walk away from this, physically and emotionally.
"Ready for what?" He says, in a dry and tired tone.
He still doesn't know. Neither Wen Qing nor her brother have told Jin Zixuan that he is going to be free. Or maybe they did, but he didn't believe them. Jin Zixuan truly and honestly believes that this is going to be the rest of his life. He doesn't see a way out. He isn't fighting anymore.
A little bit of his composure slips through his fingers. It shows in the roughness of his voice. "Jin Zixuan. I'm so sorry."
He blinks, wide and confused, like he doesn't understand. "Sorry for what?"
What isn't Meng Yao sorry for? He's sorry for the horrors this man endured, he's sorry for the pain and humiliation, he's sorry he couldn't save Madam Jin, he's… he's just sorry.
"For everything." He folds his shaking hands behind his back. "This is the first opportunity I've had to get you out, but I wish I could have done it sooner."
"I don't understand." He looks up at Meng Yao with wide, confused eyes. He realizes that he himself probably looked a lot like this seconds before he was tossed down the stairs of Carp Tower. Seeing this kind of expression on Jin Zixuan is unnerving. He flinches like Meng Yao just braced to slap him. "I'm-- I'm very sorry, your majesty, I don't--"
"Don't call me that," Meng Yao says, more harshly than he intended. He is not going to treat Jin Zixuan the way Wen Ruohan does. He is not his father. He is not either of the men who could be called his father, he refuses to be. "No one is going to punish you here. Not anymore. You're safe." He makes himself relax his hands and release the tension.
Jin Zixuan is still staring at him in blatant confusion. "I don't understand."
Meng Yao is so tired. But there is no rest, not for him. He throws himself down in Wen Qing's chair, and the weight being taken off his feet is divine. He's going to need this small comfort, to get through the long explanation.
"Do you remember how Xichen was getting notes from a spy during the war?" He begins.
By the time he's done, Jin Zixuan is staring at him like he's just announced his intention to overthrow the heavens. Perhaps that is what he's doing.
"Wait," Jin Zixuan interrupts right as Xichen starts to vouch for the authenticity of every point Meng Yao made. "You are telling me Huaisang was never actually here?"
Meng Yao sighs. "That is correct." He's shaking, and he can't seem to stop it. He's vaguely nauseated too, and a bit chilly. Maybe he has a fever again.
"So A-J--" Jin Zixuan cuts himself off. "Nie Mingjue gave himself up for nothing?"
He knew this was the next question. He saw it coming from leagues away, but it still cuts. He closes his eyes, he doesn't want to see what Jin Zixuan thinks about his failing. "That is also correct." An errant tear escapes one tightly closed eye. Maybe if he doesn't acknowledge it, nobody will notice.
Xichen gives his good shoulder a reassuring squeeze. It helps, especially when he knows what the third question will be.
"Why didn't you just tell him?"
"If we did, Wen Ruohan would have found out," Xichen answers. In the matrix, he writes It's okay, I've got you. His hand gently cleans the tear off his cheek before it can drip into his lap. "Mingjue-xiong is an atrocious liar and a worse actor. We tried to warn him that things were better than they seemed, but the fake Huaisang was brought here so quickly and with too little warning."
Thank you, he writes. He's tired. And he still has to cast the array. A-Huan can support him, but he has to be the one casting it in order to be connected to the duplicate.
"There are some… modifications to my body that the emperor will notice being gone," Jin Zixuan says.
Wen Qing nods. "You're talking about the modifications to your eccrine glands and lacrimal glands, I assume."
Tear ducts and sweat glands. He knows his father often said his peony tasted even sweeter than the actual flower. Is this what he meant? Yanli nods, shooting Meng Yao a glance.
Both Jin Zixuan and Xichen are staring at her blankly, so she clarifies. "The changes to your tears and sweat."
"Yes." Jin Zixuan nods. "I. You can see… what did he do to me?"
"I'm honestly not sure," Wen Qing admits, and that is frightening. "You lose more sugar than salt through tears and sweat, which is highly unusual. You should likely shift your diet to compensate. I have no idea how my uncle did it."
"Why would he do such a thing?" Xichen asks, one hand still on Meng Yao's shoulder.
"To make them taste sweet," Meng Yao responds before he can stop himself. "He's spoken of it to me."
He reaches out a hand, hesitating when Jin Zixuan flinches. After a moment he nods, and Meng Yao puts one finger between his eyebrows. There's little hope of him finding something when Wen Qing did not, but he wants to check. All he can tell is that something is wrong, something inside him is stickier and more sugary than it should be. It acts like his body has always been like this when Meng Yao gently tugs. There's nothing foreign to try and scrape away.
He drops his hand. "It is probably irreversible. I'm sorry."
Wen Qing breaks the awkward silence. "The array should duplicate the modifications just fine. Don't worry about that."
Jin Zixuan hesitantly spreads his legs. "Can the array replicate piercings?"
With how much Wen Ruohan obviously enjoyed all the metal he'd put in Nie Mingjue, he should have expected that the other concubines would be pierced too. Wanyin's ears were pierced last week, and he wears amethyst droplets that brush his jawline. He told Meng Yao that those were the only piercings he had.
Whatever was done to Jin Zixuan is obviously in a more sensitive place.
"You probably saw it, Healer Wen," he continues, eyes clouded with shame, "but if the copy of me doesn't have it he'll know it isn't me. And you said it can't replicate clothes…"
Meng Yao sighs. Well, if he is able to feel shame, maybe his mind is in better shape than he thought.
"I strongly doubt it will replicate the piercing," he says. "Did he put a charm on it so that only he can remove it?" He knows only the emperor can remove Chifeng-zun's piercings.
Jin Zixuan confirms with a nod.
"We will have to cut it out, then," Meng Yao says, already dreading it. Hasn't Jin Zixuan been through enough? "We can blame it on Minyu and Shuili being too rough with him. Healer Wen, will you back this up?"
She scoffs, probably offended by the idea that she wouldn't. "Of course. I can say that he tore due to improper preparation and the piercing was already partially compromised, and I had to remove it completely in order to fix the injury. But it will have to be ripped and not cut out, because the injuries on the copy need to match up."
Meng Yao nods. She's right.
"Wait," Jin Zixuan says. "That won't work. It has another charm on it, it can't be ripped or cut out."
A charm that keeps a piercing from being ripped out? That sounds unlikely, how would it even work? Skin thickening? No, that doesn't make any sense, there would be a visible difference in the surrounding tissue and it could still be cut out or ripped with enough force. Melding it to the skin? Again, that would be visually obvious.
Wen Qing raises an eyebrow. "There is no such thing as a charm like that. I would bet a week of dishes that he made it up to frighten you."
He's inclined to agree. Wen Ruohan loves his mind games.
"Really?"
"Here, I'll check. If that's alright?" Wen Qing lifts his robes again, and Meng Yao stares at the floor. It's silly, really, he's seen Jin Zixuan completely naked and hogtied before. This feels different.
"There are two charms on it. One is the unlocking charm. The other is a tethering charm, anchoring the piercing to your golden core."
Jin Zixuan visibly starts shaking. "So it can't be torn out." His face screams terror and lost hope.
"It can," Wen Qing says, thankfully nipping what looks like a probable panic attack in the bud. "It will just hurt. A lot. And there is no way to numb those nerves, the ones in your spiritual veins."
His body settles, after that, like she's given him the key to the universe. He looks human again, for the first time in--
Well. Perhaps it has been a very, very long time since Jin Zixuan last looked like a living being and not a sex toy.
When he speaks, his words are firm. "If you think you can get it out, do it. I want it out. I want it gone. If I've learned anything these past few months it's that I can handle pain. Rip it out."
He sounds better, Xichen observes. More alive.
It's hope, Meng Yao tells him. He has hope again.
Wen Qing nods. "Okay. We will get it out." She looks down between Jin Zixuan's legs, then back up to his face. "We will need someone strong to be able to rip it out with as little damage as possible. Would you prefer it be Zewu-jun or Wen Ning?"
Xichen blinks. He is probably the strongest person in the room, but both he and Meng Yao are surprised at his strength being volunteered.
I'll do it, if he needs me to, Xichen writes after a moment.
Jin Zixuan looks at Qionglin, though. He's shuddering like the idea of Xichen touching him between his legs is abhorrent. "Wen Ning."
That does figure, though. Qionglin is a healer, and Xichen is not. Jin Zixuan also seemed far more comfortable with Qionglin than even Wen Qing.
He gets to his feet. He won't just sit like a useless lump. "Is there anything I can do?"
Before Wen Qing can say anything, Jin Zixuan speaks up. "Hold my hand?"
He sounds terrified. He cringes into himself like Meng Yao will hit him for daring to open his mouth.
This is his fault. At least a bit. He should have paid more attention to the concubines. Just because Wanyin is treated well doesn't mean the others are safe. Obviously they aren't. And Meng Yao has been resolutely ignoring it.
"Of course," he says, and gives him his hand. "Squeeze as hard as you need. You can be loud, there are enough silencing talismans on this place to keep in the sound of an explosion."
Jin Zixuan gives a tiny, grateful smile. Like Meng Yao's done something more helpful than just agree to hold his hand while he has some kind of fucking genital piercing ripped out.
Meng Yao recognizes the piece of wood that Wen Qing gives him. It's littered with teeth marks. This way, he won't accidentally bite his own tongue.
"It's clean," she assures him when he hesitates.
Meng Yao gives what he hopes is a comforting squeeze as Qionglin starts counting down. On zero, his arm flexes and Jin Zixuan screams. His hand clamps down so hard that, if it wasn't for his cultivation, Meng Yao would probably have broken fingers. Qionglin raises his palm triumphantly, while Wen Qing dives in with gauze and bandages.
"Well done, A-Ning," she praises breathlessly, hands a blur.
Jin Zixuan opens red-rimmed eyes. "Is it out?"
"It is." Qionglin walks up to his head. "Would you l-l-like to see it?"
He nods.
The piercing is a golden ring with a little jasper bead on it. The bead is carved with the Wen sun symbol. Both the piercing and Qionglin's fingers are slick with blood.
"Let's get him into the array. I need to sew that injury up as soon as possible," Wen Qing says.
Right, if she sews it up, that will reflect on the copy. She seems to have it packed with gauze, but that is only a temporary solution.
"Can he walk, or would that make the injury worse?" He asks. If he were in that position, he would want to walk if it was even slightly possible.
"No walking. Not until I can sew it up," she says firmly. "This will keep the bleeding under control as long as he moves as minimally as possible. He is bleeding both blood and power from the torn spiritual veins, so it is critical that pressure stays on the wound."
"If someone has to carry me, I want him to do it." Jin Zixuan points to Qionglin, who nods.
"Alright."
The piercing is passed to Wen Qing, who sets it aside. Qionglin picks up Jin Zixuan without much effort, and walks to the array.
"Is this about where you n-n-need him?" He carefully places Jin Zixuan in the center of the array.
"Yes, that's perfect. Thank you."
Qionglin gently strokes Jin Zixuan's sweaty, messy hair. "It's going to be f-fine. You're safe."
Meng Yao takes his spot at the head of the array. His throat aches.
"I'm. I'm sorry you had to see all this," Jin Zixuan says quietly. His eyes flutter from Xichen, to Meng Yao, to Yanli, where they hover for a while.
Meng Yao jerks. He is sorry? There is nothing for Jin Zixuan to be sorry for.
Yanli huffs. "I've seen worse since I came here." She drops to her knees to sweep sticky hair off his forehead and cheeks again. He's a mess, poor thing. Xichen kneels to join her. He wraps the blanket and robe more securely around him, and folds up a third blanket Qionglin provides to support his head.
"You're going to be fine," Xichen says firmly. He steps back to stand at the supplemental position by the foot of the array, with Yanli at his side. "Alright. Let's get this over with."
Meng Yao's golden core thrums. "You can sleep," he says to Jin Zixuan. "It's safe."
He closes his eyes, body going slack.
He's been through a lot, Xichen writes sympathetically.
Meng Yao channels all his focus into the array. It's complex, building something like this. The groundwork he, Yanli, and Xichen did helps, but it is still a two and a half hour process. By the time they are done and two identical men lay in the array, Meng Yao's legs feel like overboiled carrots.
Jin Zixuan, after waking from his nap, stares at his clone with open curiosity. Wen Qing has her brother yank him from the array and bring him back to the exam table before long, though, so she can sew him up.
"Not too much blood loss," she says with an air of relief. "Okay, he can travel, as long as he walks carefully." She looks at Meng Yao expectantly. "Can you unseal his cultivation now? I don't think he's going to try to rip you apart."
Oh, that. Of course. Meng Yao is the only one here who can unseal his cultivation, and with it unsealed he will heal much faster.
"Right." He snaps his fingers, flicking the little switch inside Jin Zixuan that allows him to access his core again. It's been months since he last felt it, he's fairly sure. A shimmering gold makes the air around him waver for a moment. Jin Zixuan is a powerful cultivator, that can't be denied. Now he has himself back again.
He doesn't look entirely happy about it. Maybe he's finally stopped disassociating. Meng Yao can say from his own experiences that it's a difficult and uncomfortable shift to make.
"Wen Ning will take you to Qinghe, and Huaisang can decide where best to hide you," he says, deciding it's best to try and get him as far away from Qishan as possible before he has his inevitable emotional breakdown. Probably it will be healthier that way. "Tonight. He's the only one who won't be missed if he just takes off."
Meng Yao fishes out one of his emergency money pouches, and another pouch that he put together back at the beginning of his time as a spy. It's something like an escape kit. It contains some dried rations, water, a travelling cot, more money, a handful of maps, and a number of talismans. They range from light to water purification to message to concealment.
He can't help but feel a bit bereft as he passes it to Qionglin. This is the only one of these pouches he has. If he and A-Huan have to flee, they'll do it without the benefit of this escape kit.
It doesn't matter. He can put together another one, a better one. Qionglin and Jin Zixuan need all the help they can get in order to reach Qinghe. Accessing the matrix he has with Daiyu, he's relieved to find her still awake.
My prince?
Daiyu, could you or Mingxia get a horse to the edge of the city? We've got a copy made of Jin Zixuan, and Qionglin is taking him to Qinghe.
Yes, I think we can manage that.
Meng Yao claps Qionglin on the shoulder. "I have faith in you."
Qionglin smiles. "Thank you, my prince."
Then Meng Yao sways on his feet, and Xichen catches him.
"A-Yao, you're beyond exhausted." He tucks a strand of hair that fell out of his bun behind his ear. "Let's go back to our rooms. You need sleep, my love."
He does. Heavens above, he wants to sleep for an entire fucking year.
But there is always something to do. He looks at Wen Qing, then Jin Zixuan, then Yanli. "Is there anything else I can do for any of you?"
Wen Qing shakes her head, hands planted on her hips. "Go get some rest, my prince. I'll see you tomorrow." For another checkup, he reads between the lines.
"You can get some rest," Yanli agrees. "Please."
Xichen scoops him up. He's much too tired to protest, for the first time in his life he realizes that he would have asked to be carried if his husband hadn't just done it.
I feel awful, he writes, burying his head in Xichen's chest.
You've overworked yourself. Those strong arms squeeze him.
"Zewu-jun?"
Meng Yao internally screams at the familiar voice. Xichen stops and turns to face Wen Tieyun and Cai Shuili.
"Oh, my prince," Shuili says, bowing. Tieyun does the same, but with much less enthusiasm. "I did not see you."
"Why are you out of your rooms so late at night?" Tieyun demands.
Meng Yao clenches his teeth. He just wants to go to bed, dammit.
"Don't be rude, Tieyun," Shuili says sharply.
"A-Yao has been a bit under the weather," Xichen says frostily. "I was under strict instructions from Wen Qing to take him to see her if he developed a cough, which he did earlier this evening. Now I am under strict instruction to take him back to bed and keep him warm, to prevent him from getting any sicker."
"What kind of cultivator gets sick?" Tieyun asks.
Shuili smacks the back of his head. "Mind your words," he snaps. "Our prince has not always lived a fair or comfortable life." He bows. "Let me escort you back to your rooms. Tieyun can finish our rotation." He gives the younger guard a sharp look. "After he apologizes for his misconduct."
"I apologize, my prince," he says sulkily.
Shuili is a few inches taller than Xichen, the second tallest person Meng Yao has ever seen. He holds the door that leads back inside the palace for them, and keeps pace with Xichen easily.
"You're the one who's married to another guard," Xichen says after the awkward silence apparently becomes too awkward. They are both hyper-aware of the fact that Shuili is half the reason Jin Zixuan had to be kept overnight by the healers.
"Yes. Minyu is my husband, the light of my life." There's blatant affection in the way he speaks, and Meng Yao has a hard time imagining someone who spoke so tenderly of his husband raping and abusing someone so badly that they needed a healer to put their insides back where they belong.
"Did you meet while working under Wen Ruohan?" Xichen asks.
Shuili smiles, an angry little thing with rough edges. He doesn't seem upset with Xichen, just upset in general. That's normal, for him. "No. We met many years before we came here. Minyu and I were chased out of the village we lived in after we declared our intent to marry. The commoners didn't want to be protected by cutsleeves, even if they were also powerful cultivators. We wandered for some time until we came to Nightless City. His excellency was very accepting of us. He was the first to recognize our marriage as legitimate." He twists the little charm he wears around his neck. "It was heartwarming to have been present at your wedding, my prince. Seeing the marriage of two men treated so normally was…" he exhales in a long whoosh. "...I was jealous, but also pleased. It is wonderful to live here, where I know no one shall be mistreated for who they love."
Meng Yao unburies his head from Xichen's collar. Perhaps this is why the two of them are so loyal to Wen Ruohan. Meng Yao has never lived in a place where cutsleeves are condemned, but he can imagine it.
Shuili bids them goodbye at the door to their rooms. Xichen closes it firmly, and carries him straight to the bedroom.
"I should probably tell my father that I went to see Wen Qing for a cough in the middle of the night before he hears it second-hand," Meng Yao murmurs. He's glad he's already dressed for bed. He's too fucking tired to change.
"Probably that is wise," Xichen says. His husband changes his own clothes quickly and joins Meng Yao under the blankets, wrapping his long arms and legs around and around until Meng Yao is fully enveloped.
Chapter 30: I would prefer to never have to look at you again
Summary:
The plan to steal the Stygian Tiger Seal gets underway. Jiang Yanli and Wen Ning are angels, Xue Yang is his usual terrible self, and Xiao Xingchen is... unwell.
Notes:
CW: thinly veiled rape threat that doesn't happen and noncon touching. Please see the end notes for an elaboration on this and for further cw if you don't mind spoilers and/or would prefer prior warning
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"I just wish he would listen to me," Xue Yang grumbles. With one arm thrown around Meng Yao's shoulders, he feels quite thoroughly trapped, and is very glad Xichen isn't here to see. Xue Yang would no longer be breathing, which would really throw a stick in the spokes of Meng Yao's plan.
"You are awfully hung up on splitting the halves of the seal," he says. It takes considerable effort not to act like every inch of skin touching Xue Yang is wishing desperately to shrivel up and die.
"That's how Wei Wuxian used it!" Xue Yang tugs him closer. Too close. But Meng Yao has him at ease right now, and he can't disturb that. They're about halfway down the hallway outside one of the meeting rooms, specifically the one that Meng Yao knows contains Wen Fuhe, Wen Jiefu, and a handful of other ranking Wen officers. Hopefully they're paying attention. If they aren't, he's going to be rather put out.
"My father has already told you that he doesn't want to split the seal and risk destabilizing it," Meng Yao says in a deliberately confused voice. "Why do you keep pushing this?"
"Well, your father's an idiot," Xue Yang snaps loudly, which is a lot more aggressive and borderline treasonous than anything Meng Yao imagined getting out of the delinquent today. "Wei Wuxian made the seal, obviously he would know the best way to use it. We should follow his example!"
Meng Yao is of the opinion that yes, Wei Wuxian would know the best way to wield the seal, if the wielder is a vaguely suicidal prodigy driven half-mad with grief and willing to completely disregard personal safety in the name of protecting what they love and destroying their enemies. Xue Yang probably knows a thing or two about that. Meng Yao certainly does. Wen Ruohan, however, is not in the same category. For the sake of their audience, it's best if Meng Yao presents himself as having little information and absolutely no opinion on the tiger seal, so he mostly makes vague noises that could be interpreted as just about anything.
"The tiger seal shouldn't be kept with the Yin iron like it's somehow the same," Xue Yang goes on, apparently completely unaware of the fact that they're being listened to. He doesn't even seem to notice that Meng Yao is gradually slowing down just outside the door. "The tiger seal is Yin Iron refined. Treating it like just another chunk of it is a fucking waste."
They turn the corner, probably falling mostly out of earshot of the people who Meng Yao needs to overhear them. As a result he largely stops caring. Xue Yang is still talking about Wei Wuxian and how his methods of forging and using the tiger seal are vastly superior.
"Wei Wuxian made the tiger seal while under extreme conditions," Meng Yao interrupts his tirade. "He wielded it alone, and mitigated the power it generates with just his body. If there are better ways to do it, why are they so terrible?"
Xue Yang stops walking and gives him a shrewd look. "You mean you were actually listening?"
Annoyance flashes bright. "Yes, of course I was listening."
He cackles and, finally, removes his arm from around Meng Yao. "I thought I finally managed to short circuit your brain. Damn. Maybe I need to get more touchy-feely."
Meng Yao sidesteps a hug attempt and aims to step on Xue Yang's foot with all his might. The delinquent dodges the stomp, hooks a leg around Meng Yao's knee, and then he goes crashing to the ground.
"There's gotta be some way to make you white out," Xue Yang muses. "Everybody has one."
Meng Yao rolls out of the way as he attempts to throw himself down on top of him.
"Playing hard to get? Is that how you netted Zewu-jun?" He grins a snaggle-toothed grin.
He's just trying to scare Meng Yao, that much is obvious. Xue Yang isn't a rapist. He won't let himself be scared.
Xue Yang grabs one of his ankles and prevents him from escaping. His rapid heartbeat jolts at the contact, but is soothed when his fingers close around the handle of the Seer's Dagger. Just as Xue Yang pounces, Meng Yao whips the knife up and presses it to Xue Yang's throat.
"Get off," he says. He's propped up on one arm, with Xue Yang straddling him and smirking.
"So cold." He grins, like having Meng Yao's knife to his neck is a dream come true. "So pretty. I could paint you head to toe in blood and then drill you raw on the slippery floor."
Meng Yao allows himself two seconds to look afraid. He's had worse threats leveled at him, worse threats carried out. He's been fucked raw on slippery, cold ground before. There is nothing Xue Yang can say that will actually scare him. Nothing.
During those two seconds, Xue Yang relaxes just enough for Meng Yao to hook a leg around his waist and flip them over, pinning Xue Yang to the ground with the knife against his neck. He digs his knee threateningly into his crotch.
"You're so easy," Meng Yao sneers. He jams his knee into Xue Yang's erection as hard as he can, tearing a pained whine out of him. He doesn't go soft even when Meng Yao puts weight on his testicles. "Pathetic."
Xue Yang laughs. "Did I misread you, Yao-ge? You'd prefer to be doing the drilling? Maybe smack me around, like you can't with your husband? Is he too big, or does he just not let you?"
Meng Yao leans down, letting the thin edge of the knife break skin. "I would prefer to never have to look at you again."
Xue Yang's hips buck, tossing Meng Yao a few inches into the air. "It's too bad," he says. "We could have so much fun together if you weren't married. Or if you weren't so hung up about it."
"There is no universe in which my standards fall that low," he hisses. He stands up and sheathes his dagger. "I will gut you if you put your hands on me again."
He cackles again. "Fuck, you're hot. I'll look forward to it."
Meng Yao doesn't run. He isn't afraid of Xue Yang. He's more afraid of slipping up and gutting him right now, and then having to come up with a whole new plan. Which would be a huge waste after everything he went through today just to make sure Fuhe and company overheard Xue Yang talking about the seal. But the only reason his speed keeps increasing is because he's worried about losing his composure. Nothing more.
Maybe Xichen will be slightly mollified after having his suspicions about Xue Yang's intentions towards Meng Yao confirmed.
On his way back to his rooms, he stops at Jiang Yanli's cottage. There are no more guards now, ever, outside it, which is convenient. The exterior of the cottage is so demure and peaceful that nobody could ever guess the sheer amount of resentful energy being channeled down in the basement.
"Here," Yanli says as she passes him a small stack of papers. "These should do the trick."
Normally Yanli's notes are cleanly organized and labeled, but she's done a phenomenal job imitating Xue Yang's near illegible chicken scratch. The six experiments she's come up with for him to plant around Xue Yang's room all heavily feature the stygian tiger seal with the two halves separated. Just a little bit more evidence to incriminate him.
"You look shaken," she says, putting a hand on his arm. "Is everything alright?"
He takes a brief moment to curse her impeccable big-sister instincts. With Wei Wuxian dead and Jiang Wanyin only an occasional guest in her comfortable prison, Meng Yao knew there was the possibility of him becoming her surrogate little brother. He thought he was prepared to deal with that.
"Xue Yang is just unpleasant to be around," he says dismissively.
Yanli presses her lips together in what he interprets as minor disapproval. "A-Yao," she says, in that forsaken tone of voice that means she's about to finish transforming into a mother hen. "Did he hurt you?"
"I can protect myself," he says, too fast and too certain. Damn.
Channelling resentful energy hasn't slowed her mind or loosened her sanity at all. She's far too shrewd to have missed the crack in his facade, and now she's digging her fingers in.
"I didn't ask if you could protect yourself. I asked if he hurt you." She tugs on his arm. Meng Yao could brush her off, except for that he actually can't. Not if he wants to escape this encounter in one piece emotionally.
"I was prepared for him to try and escalate things physically," Meng Yao admits, "but he did go a bit farther than I anticipated."
Jiang Yanli's eyes narrow to slits, and Meng Yao realizes that the truth, in this case, was the wrong answer.
"Sit," she says firmly, and because Meng Yao isn't an idiot, he sits.
She spends about fifteen minutes bustling around in her kitchen, and comes back with a teapot and a plate of red bean cakes.
"How far did he get?" She asks evenly as she sets out the cakes and teacups.
"Not far. He pinned me on my back even though I had my dagger at his neck, he made some mediocre threats, and then I flipped us over, insulted him a bit, said I'd gut him if he touched me again, and left." He hopes she won't ask for clarification. He isn't sure he can handle being force fed soup today. "It was worth it for the things Fuhe and the others overheard him saying."
She knows he's deflecting. Jiang Yanli is terrifyingly good at reading Meng Yao. Better than Wen Ruohan, better than A-Huan. He is very lucky that she uses this power to identify when Meng Yao is vulnerable to being coddled and fed, rather than to absolutely ruin him like a normal person would.
She looks at him, and her expression says she wants him to know that she knows. Jiang Yanli is still somehow impeccably kind, despite the world doing it's best to beat the last drop of it out of her. Her being so kind is the only reason she doesn't press him. He knows that. She wants him to know that.
"You're confident about going forward as planned, then?" She asks.
"Yes."
Two cups of tea and three red bean cakes later, Meng Yao is finally allowed to leave. Yanli walks him to the door, and as he's about to open it, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and hugs him.
"Oh," Meng Yao says. "You're hugging me."
"Yes. You can hug me back, you know. Raise your arms and put them around me."
Vaguely offended by the implication that he doesn't know how to hug, he embraces her in return.
"That's better."
The hug is… nice. Xichen holds him, obviously, but Xichen is his husband. His extremely tactile, extremely sensual husband who needs to physically express affection or else he will combust. He's used to Xichen's hugs by now, probably takes them for granted. Wen Ruohan hugs him too, which is neither here nor there.
Hugging Jiang Yanli is different. She's smaller than him, for one, though not by much. She's ridiculously gentle, for another.
"Alright. Take care of yourself, my prince." She sends him off with a kiss to the cheek he was not prepared for, out into the sunlight of the late afternoon.
He feels… good. He'd gone to Yanli's cottage on the verge of a panic attack and he's leaving like this.
Her intuition scares him, sometimes.
Back in his rooms, Xichen instantly jumps on him, nose burrowing into Meng Yao's hair.
"Hello love," Meng Yao says as he relaxes into Xichen's hold. He won't take Xichen's hugs for granted. He'll enjoy every single one for everything it's worth, damn it.
"Hello." He gets a wonderfully sweet, toe-curling kiss. "I finished the letter."
That's good. Meng Yao will still need to look it over, but he imagines Xichen did a fine job on his own. He is an excellent writer.
"Show me."
They sit down at the table, where they'll take dinner in an hour or two, and Xichen pushes a neatly written letter across to him.
To his highness Wen Huoyao,
I was absolutely ecstatic to receive your letter. My relief and joy cannot be expressed in these mere words. It has been months since Xingchen was taken from me, and in this time I have been searching endlessly. To think he was taken by that scoundrel Xue Yang! I shudder to think of the things my love has been enduring.
I understand your concerns, your majesty. Both in gratitude to you for making me aware of Xingchen's location and in vengeance for his treatment of my beloved, I will make sure he suffers and never returns to Nightless City. We can further discuss things when we meet in person, at the Chang'e temple on the border of Nightless City.
With regards,
Song Lan
"Well? Does it sound like something a heartbroken and desperate semi-gentryman would write?" Xichen asks.
"It's very good," Meng Yao admits. It is, it's better than he thought it would be.
"You're really sure that Xiao Xingchen's lover uses his birth name for official matters?"
"Yes. It's very odd, but all the documents I found have him using 'Song Lan'." Meng Yao wonders if the man has a courtesy name at all. It would explain never using it. Neither of them know Song Lan, have ever even met him, but they're certain he is the cultivation partner that Xiao Xingchen was swiped from. A well-paid informant and a quick visit to the Baixue temple by one of Shi Daiyu's friends confirmed that.
Daiyu is guarding the Yin Iron chamber tomorrow night. Yanli, who can move through Nightless City like an unseen phantom, will conceal the seal inside a qiankun pouch and take it back to the basement of her cottage, where most of her experiments with resentful energy take place. Daiyu will drink one of the powerful sedatives that Xue Yang invented, reverse engineered by Wen Qing and Qionglin, and be out for no less than twelve hours. That should remove her from suspicion. Apparently Xue Yang frequently gives sweets to the guards who are on duty when he goes to access the Yin Iron, which is odd but convenient.
Meanwhile, they've arranged for Xue Yang to faux intercept the letter from Song Lan, as if it were intended for Meng Yao. Xue Yang won't be able to resist both catching Meng Yao in a plot and getting his hands on Xiao Xingchen's lover. Meng Yao will take a few of the emperor's guards, hopefully Fuhe among them, and follow him. The paper will dissolve into dust ten minutes after Xue Yang departs his quarters with it, a clever charm that Caihong found in the back of a book while doing other research. The 'other research' being on whatever brainwashing drug Wen Ruohan used on Jiang Wanyin, but that is a problem for another day.
Before all this, though, Meng Yao will be sneaking into Xue Yang's quarters while the delinquent is out to plant the extra experiments. Xue Yang is usually out in the mornings, according to the guards who watch his quarters. Neither of them like Xue Yang very much, and were entirely willing to tell Meng Yao whatever he wanted to know just because he remembered their names and spoke kindly to them. He gave them money, just as an extra incentive, but he probably could have gotten away without it. They both have a lot to say about Xiao Xingchen's unholy screaming, and how over the past few days it seems to have quieted down.
He rounds the table, and Xichen opens his arms, shifting to sit with his legs crossed to make a space for Meng Yao. They do this, sometimes, when one or both of them is stressed. Their dinner arrives with only one pair of chopsticks, just as they asked, and they take turns feeding each other.
~*~
Xue Yang's rooms are cold, but otherwise very nice, in their own building off the far east end of the Fire Palace. They make a ring around a small courtyard.
Qionglin wraps his arms around himself, nose wrinkling both at the chill and at the mess.
"Does he n-never light a fire?"
Qionglin returned from Qinghe just last night. After successfully delivering Jin Zixuan to safety and bringing Huaisang up to date on the situation, he rushed back to Qishan and brought four messenger doves with him. They're black, like the ravens so common in Qishan, some kind of melanistic mutation that Huaisang specifically bred for. When he started breeding messenger pigeons, Meng Yao doesn't know, but these are better trained than the ravens and won't stick out like the white pigeons do. It's the most secure and realistic way to communicate with Huaisang that he could reasonably ask for.
Meng Yao didn't want Qionglin to have to get up early and come with him to Xue Yang's rooms after all that time on horseback, but he insisted. He didn't want Meng Yao to be alone.
They leave one of the experiment pages in a huge pile of other notes, a few of which do contain mentions of the tiger seal, to Meng Yao's delight. Another they tuck behind the mattress in the bedroom.
"Let's look in the courtyard," Meng Yao whispers. It's highly likely that's where Xue Yang does most of his experimenting. They've yet to discover what bizarre nook the delinquent keeps Xiao Xingchen in when he isn't around. He found a dead body in one closet that he hopes isn't him. It was too deteriorated to really tell.
The courtyard is a mess, the grass all overgrown and the boughs of the trees hanging low with unseasonal fruit. That's more than enough evidence of his tampering.
Under one of the peach trees, on a long settee, is Xiao Xingchen. Meng Yao freezes, grabbing Qionglin's arm and jerking his chin at the daozhang.
He isn't tied up. He's wearing a simple black robe, his hair is loose, his feet are bare, and his eyes are hidden behind a white blindfold. There's nothing to keep him in place, nothing to keep him from removing the blindfold and walking right out of here. No charms or spells that Meng Yao noticed, and he searched carefully.
Xiao Xingchen looks completely at ease, napping in the morning sun under the peach tree. Or not napping. It's hard to tell when his eyes are covered.
They plant the last two fake experiments in a pile of books and papers, which is beside a small pile of corpses. Meng Yao recognizes the freshest one. Li Donglin, the assistant of Wen Qing's who brought Wen Ruohan into the treatment room. Strange that he would be given to Xue Yang for his experiments so soon after going against Meng Yao's wishes.
It has to be a coincidence. Judging by the number of bodies, the smell barely kept in check by several suppressing talismans, Wen Ruohan gives people to Xue Yang all the time.
Then Qionglin steps on a stick, and Meng Yao winces.
Xiao Xingchen sits up. "Hello?" He doesn't reach for the blindfold. "A-Yang?"
A-Yang?
He takes a few steps toward them. "Oh, your majesty. Hello." He bows. "Are you here to fuck me?"
Meng Yao closes his mouth with a loud clack. How does Xiao Xingchen know who he is? If he's been so brainwashed that he calls Xue Yang fucking A-Yang, why hasn't he raised the alarm yet? And why, in the name of all that's good, would he think Meng Yao is here to fuck him!?
"No," he says, because he has to say something.
"Oh." Xiao Xingchen perks up. "I knew he was just teasing me. A-Yang wouldn't do that to me." He smiles. "He asked you to visit me, then? He listened?"
"Y-yes," Qionglin says. Meng Yao sends him a murderous glare, he's supposed to do the talking here.
Xiao Xingchen grabs both of Qionglin's hands with unnerving accuracy for someone thoroughly blindfolded. "I'm so glad! He finally is giving me a friend!"
Qionglin coughs. He shoots Meng Yao a hesitant look, and after a moment Meng Yao nods. If Qionglin has an idea, it probably can't make the situation any worse than it currently is.
"Our v-v-visit is a secret," he says solemnly. "By order of the emperor himself."
"Oh!" He laces his fingers into Qionglin's. "Is it a surprise for A-Yang?"
"That's r-right," Qionglin says. "You c-cant tell him about it unt-t-til the day after tomorrow. Do you understand?"
Holding tight to his hands, Xiao Xingchen nods seriously. "I understand. If it comes from the emperor and is important enough that he sent his son to take care of it, it must be important. Oh, A-Yang is going to be so happy the emperor is recognizing his work!" He yanks Qionglin into a hug. The healer awkwardly pats his back.
"Y-yes, but you have to keep it a secret that we were here until the d-day after tomorrow."
"I will!" He chirps. Then he drops to his knees and starts rifling through Qionglin's robes. The healer squawks and jumps backwards.
"What are you d-d-d-doing!?"
Xiao Xingchen frowns. "You came all this way to do something nice. A-Yang says I should always thank people who are nice with my mouth. If you have a cock or a cunt, it doesn't matter, I can do either. I've gotten a lot of practice. A-Yang and Bingwen say I'm very good with my tongue." He shuffles forward, reaching out.
Meng Yao puts a hand on the top of Xiao Xingchen's head and he stops short.
"There will be no need for that," he says in his best prince voice. "We need to be going now."
Xiao Xingchen nuzzles into his hand like a cat. "I can't suck your cock either, your majesty?"
"Absolutely not," Meng Yao says, much quicker than he intended. "I'm married."
"Oh." Xiao Xingchen frowns. "I forgot. A-Yang doesn't like your husband very much. He might be trying to think of a way to kill him, I'm not sure."
Meng Yao blinks.
"We, uh, h-have to g-go," Qionglin says. "We'll k-keep that in mind. Just remember you can't t-tell A-Yang we were here."
He nods, smiling brightly. "Okay! I am so excited for him to finally get the recognition he deserves!" He picks his way carefully back across the courtyard and lays back down on the settee.
Meng Yao grabs Qionglin's arm, and they rush out like the place is on fire.
"Ah, it's good you're through, I was about to come get you," the guard on duty says. "He usually comes back in about fifteen minutes. You should probably hurry, my prince."
Meng Yao nods. This particular guard, one Li Quanzhen, came to Nightless City for employment only to find it the worst place he's ever worked. Of course, he has only ever been on duty outside Xue Yang's rooms, and apparently the delinquent likes to sit on the roof and throw rocks at him. Of course he does.
Meng Yao offered the guard a transfer to a different position for his cooperation, but apparently all he wants is the funds to be able to travel back to his hometown. Li Quanzhen hasn't asked any questions about why Meng Yao needed access to Xue Yang's rooms while he wasn't there, and the man has sworn on his dead sister's name to be silent, which is the only reason Meng Yao is allowing him to leave Nightless City alive. The thought of a loose end scares him, but he doesn't want to kill Li Quanzhen either. Thankfully he's going far, far away soon.
"How did you know what to say to him?" Meng Yao hisses in Qionglin's ear as they walk into the clinic. No patients are here yet, it's too early.
"I worked b-backwards from some of the ch-changes in Jiang Wanyin," Qionglin explains. "The d-d-drug modifies neural pathways in the brain. At l-least that is my best guess." He wrings his hands. "It f-forces use of n-n-n-new pathw-ways, and makes the old ones atrophy from d-disuse."
That is terrifying. Who could have possibly invented such a thing?
"Also," Qionglin continues, "Wanyin told me that my uncle established himself as the a-absolute authority in Xiao Xingchen's mind b-b-before he let Xue Yang do anything. Xiao Xingchen will listen to you and the emperor over Xue Y-yang."
Tension leaves Meng Yao's muscles. He will, of course, keep in mind his plan for how to proceed if Xiao Xingchen does tell Xue Yang that Meng Yao was poking around his rooms, because he needs contingency plans for his back-up plans and then a follow-up for those in case they fail as well. But Qionglin seems convinced that Xiao Xingchen will keep quiet. Qionglin may be timid and anxious, but he's also reliable and a good judge of people's psyche and character.
"The mind warping drug must be powerful, if it's turned Xiao Xingchen into… that," he mutters. He needs to go visit Caihong in the library, to see if he's discovered anything.
"He was probably g-given multiple d-d-doses," Qionglin theorizes. "I l-looked at his brain. I didn't have the t-t-time to be very thorough. But he has m-many dead pathways in his b-brain."
Meng Yao shuts his eyes. They can't save everyone. He's known that from the beginning. Maybe he should mercy kill Xiao Xingchen, like he did Madam Jin.
He's obviously too mindbroken to really consent to anything, though. And, even if he is… he probably still wants to live. Doesn't he deserve to live?
Killing Madam Jin was easy, because she looked him in the eyes and told him to do it. Without that little bit of help, Meng Yao will not be able to kill Xiao Xingchen and tell himself it's for mercy.
Fuck it. He can't do everything.
"I'm going back to my rooms to try and nap a little," he says. "I'll see you later, Qionglin."
Notes:
Xue Yang makes a very sexually violent threat towards Meng Yao while the two are fighting. Meng Yao is armed, capable of defending himself, and doesn't believe Xue Yang actually intends to go through with it, which he does not.
This chapter also contains drug-induced mindbreak aftermath with XXC, as well as some pretty awful implications of abuse.
Chapter 31: You really are enjoying yourself, aren't you?
Summary:
The plan continues to unfold exactly as Huoyao predicted. Mostly.
Notes:
This chapter continues to elaborate on XXC's mind break.
Chapter Text
Tailing Xue Yang as he crashes his way clumsily to the Chang'e temple is easy. Laughably easy. The fact that Xiao Xingchen apparently needs to stop and smell almost every flower helpfully slows him down a lot. Their little group, consisting of Huoyao, Xichen, Fuhe, Zhan Xingxi, and Chu Bingwen hasn't had any trouble keeping up. They've even had to just walk the horses, their quarry is moving so slowly.
"Do you think he has the seal on him?" Xingxi whispers. His hands are sure and steady as he nocks an arrow.
"Probably," Wen Fuhe answers. "Do you have a clear shot?"
Xingxi looks along the length of his arrow. Slowly he lowers it, easing the tension. "No. I don't think I can get in a non-fatal shot like this. Too close."
Huoyao draws Hensheng. "We will have to go in ourselves."
Privately, Huoyao is deeply amused by how shocked Xue Yang looks when he is descended upon. Instinct kicks in, and he shoves Xiao Xingchen behind him and draws Jiangzai.
"I see you brought guards this time, Yao-ge. That was smart of you," he sneers. "Maybe all those years in a whorehouse taught you something after all."
Fuhe ignores the taunt, and so does Huoyao. "Hand over the tiger seal and the emperor will be merciful." He extends a hand.
"What makes you think I have the tiger seal?" Xue Yang laughs. "If you fools lost track of it, don't blame me."
"He's probably already hid it somewhere, uncle," Huoyao points out. "I don't feel or see any resentful energy."
Fuhe nods. He whips out a pair of binding talismans and steps toward him. "Come quietly and you won't be hurt."
Xue Yang makes the first move, lunging at Fuhe with full intent to disembowel him. His uncle bats away the strike, ducks another attempt at chopping off his head, and throws one of the binding talismans. Fuhe isn't the captain of Wen Ruohan's personal guard for nothing. He can handle himself. Xue Yang does slice the talisman in half before it can touch him, though.
Huoyao takes Xiao Xingchen's arm. "I'm afraid I'm taking you into custody," he says, trying to sound gentle and sympathetic.
"Why is that, your majesty?" He asks, cocking his head.
"For your own safety," he says.
"Oh." He nods. "Alright."
He is so… cooperative. Unlike Xue Yang, who is still crossing blades with Fuhe. Xue Yang is no slouch, but when he hears Xiao Xingchen acquiesce so easily, his head spins to face them. That's all the opening Fuhe needs to swat his sword into the underbrush and slap the binding talisman against his chest.
"I don't fucking have it!" Xue Yang shouts as he crashes to the ground.
Fuhe jerks his chin at Bingwen. "Search him."
Xue Yang spits. "You really believe this shit, Bingwen?"
He shifts uncomfortably for a moment, then kneels down next to him. "Just tell us where it is, A-Yang," he says softly. "I don't want to have to hurt you."
A-Yang? Well, that's bizarre. Then again, apparently Xue Yang was close enough to Chu Bingwen to share his concubine with him multiple times.
"Just give me one of your goddamn truth serums," Xue Yang hisses. "I'm sure you have one I'm not immune to."
"I don't think I do," he said. "Don't make this difficult."
"Always knew you'd turn out to be a lousy friend," he spits. Chu Bingwen flinches a bit, but doesn't say anything as he starts patting Xue Yang down.
Well, if even someone who is both in their right mind and close enough to Xue Yang to call him A-Yang believes that he stole the seal, he must have been showing a lot of interest in it behind closed doors. Huoyao briefly entertains the thought of trying to implicate Chu Bingwen just to be rid of the intolerable man, before he decides to just let it be. If he decides to implicate himself, so be it.
Fuhe slings Xue Yang over one shoulder. "Alright, let's get back to the Fire Palace."
They are about two hours on horseback from Nightless City. Fuhe tosses Xue Yang's limp body in front of him on his horse. Huoyao rides in front of Xichen, a concession he'd had to make to his father in order to be allowed to come. Apparently the mere thought of the Fire Palace being breached was enough to send him into a protective fervor that nearly had Huoyao locked in his rooms to reassure the emperor of his safety. Only when both Xichen and Fuhe pledged to defend him with their lives every step of the way and Huoyao practically begged on his knees to be able to help was he allowed to go with them. Perhaps incapacitating his personal (and only) guard was not his finest moment, but they had no choice.
He's acting very concerned for Daiyu, because nobody knows yet what kind of drug she was supposedly slipped by Xue Yang, and she's been unconscious and unrousable for about two hours now. Of course, Huoyao knows exactly what she willingly drank, and that she'll wake in twelve to sixteen hours a bit dehydrated but unharmed.
This seems to be going completely according to plan, Xichen writes as he hops up behind Huoyao.
Better than I anticipated, Huoyao admits. He didn't foresee Chu Bingwen's loss of faith in Xue Yang. Perhaps he really is a lousy friend. That would track with everything else he knows about him.
Huoyao is not bad at horseback riding, though he's no master either. However, he's very seriously considering pretending to be incapable just so he never has to ride a horse alone ever again. His husband is a comfortably solid weight at his back, especially when he reaches around Huoyao to take the reins. He doesn't have to do anything besides enjoy being held.
"You really are enjoying yourself, aren't you?" Xichen murmurs in his ear.
"I really am," he responds, unable to stop himself from feeling a tiny bit smug. His plan is working out perfectly so far, the scenery is gorgeous, and he's seated in his absolute favorite place, which is in or very near to his husband's lap.
You're so pretty when you're happy, Xichen writes. He sighs against Huoyao's back, the deeply satisfied kind. And smug. Smug is a good look on you.
Of course, Xue Yang yelling and cursing the entire ride back does put a damper on things. Xiao Xingchen rides in front of Chu Bingwen, as emptily happy and at ease with everything as ever. Is this what awaits Jiang Wanyin? Huoyao is keeping a very close eye on his friend, so that if he's given a second dose, he'll be able to draw it out as soon as possible. He never knew Xiao Xingchen before, but Huoyao is positive he wasn't like this.
He won't let that happen. Wanyin is his friend, Yanli is his friend. And Wen Ruohan is already feeling particularly protective, perhaps he can leverage that to his advantage and get more time with Wanyin. He might have to submit to being confined within the Fire Palace if he plays up any vulnerability, but that is a small price to pay for Wanyin's continued sanity.
There is the very real possibility that, without the tiger seal, the Yin iron will become unbalanced again, and with it, Wen Ruohan. What that will entail-- for Huoyao and Xichen, for the harem, for everyone else in the empire-- he doesn't know. But it is a risk they have to take. An unstable Wen Ruohan will be easier to kill, that's for certain.
It's also entirely possible that these few months have stabilized the Yin iron for good. In that case, not much will change. Wen Ruohan will continue to be a doting, if overprotective, father, and Huoyao will still have to kill him.
He's not feeling particularly smug anymore.
The rest of the ride back is spent in silence, except for Xue Yang's yelling. Several servants, Shi Mingxia, and Xing Longwei greet them. Shi Mingxia's height makes her an ideal handler for the larger steeds, though she's never seemed to like horses all that much.
"I'm glad you're back, my prince," Longwei says as the servants take the horses. "Your father has been on edge."
"I'm fine," he says. "Uncle and A-Huan took very good care of me."
"We ran into no problems," Fuhe assures him.
"Has Daiyu woken up yet?" Xichen asks Mingxia.
She shakes her head. She's doing a good job of acting like she thinks her sister is in mortal peril and dealing with it by throwing herself into her job. Maybe, in a way, she is, just not the way she's presenting it to the world.
Longwei puts a hand on her shoulder. He's very kind to the younger members of the guard, treating them like his own children. Maybe he gets that from Wen Ruohan.
"I'll escort Huoyao to his father," he says quietly. "You go with Fuhe and Bingwen."
She nods. Huoyao has no illusions about who she's going to take out her anxiety on. He almost feels bad for Xue Yang. Almost. But Xue Yang has lost every scrap of Huoyao's sympathy by this point. And, being a misaligned woman, he's sure that Mingxia has plenty of very valid grievances with men like Xue Yang.
Wen Ruohan half tackles Huoyao the instant he sees him.
"Yao'er," he mutters. "Knowing you were in danger was much harder to deal with than I anticipated."
"I wasn't in any danger, a-die," he says. "I was with A-Huan and uncle the whole time." He tries to tug away, but his father refuses to let him go.
"I still worry," he murmurs into Huoyao's hair.
Wen Ruohan is shaking.
"A-die," Huoyao asks, pushing away with more of his strength until he can see Wen Ruohan's face. "Are you alright?"
There are tears on his face.
"I can't lose you," he whispered. "It would destroy me."
It's a punch to the gut, to see Wen Ruohan brought low by something like this. And to admit it so easily. Like he truly believes Huoyao isn't his enemy.
Huoyao brushes a tear off his cheek. "You won't lose me," he says, and the stab of pain at the realization that it's a lie hurts. Maybe it isn't a lie. If Huoyao kills him with his own hands, he won't lose him. "I'll stay in the Fire Palace," he whispers. "I'll be careful. I promise."
It's easy to forget that Wen Ruohan, for all his power and evil, is still a man. A man who lost two of his children not that long ago.
He's held tightly again, until his father stops shaking. No wonder Xing Longwei was so happy when Huoyao returned, if he's been like this the entire time.
It will be alright. Wen Ruohan will destabilize alongside the Yin iron, and he'll stop being… this. He'll stop being everything Huoyao has ever wanted in a father, go back to the terrifying entity he was when they first met, and Huoyao will be able to kill him and walk away from it. He will.
His father wipes his eyes and releases him. "I would appreciate it if you remained in the Fire Palace," he says. "I am currently searching for a trustworthy replacement for Shi Daiyu, in case she doesn't pull through. Wen Qing says the prognosis is good, but I want to be prepared for the worst." He tugs the side of Huoyao's guan as if it's crooked, maybe from the cuddling. "Until she is able to return to work or I find a suitable replacement, Longwei will be standing in as your personal guard."
As long as he isn't assigned Bingwen or Tieyun, he'll be fine. Privately he was hoping for Mingxia or possibly Zhan Xingxi, the young man is surprisingly good company, but Longwei is fine.
"Alright." On some bizarre instinct, he stretches up on his toes to kiss his father's cheek. "I'm sorry I scared you so badly, a-die."
Wen Ruohan smiles. "I can't fault you for feeling cooped up." He rubs his good shoulder. "But would you have dinner here? I would like to keep you in my sight for a little while longer."
"Of course." Usually Huoyao would usually prefer to retreat from this intimacy, but he can't figure out a way.
I'm here with you, A-Yao, Xichen writes. He slips his hand into his, and Wen Ruohan relinquishes him into his husband's arms.
They sit at the table, and Wanyin comes in carrying a zheng. He's dressed in a heavy red robe that looks suspiciously like one of the emperor's. Huoyao raises his eyebrows as he stands to greet his friend.
Wanyin sets the instrument down on the table and accepts his embrace. Huoyao holds him close for a moment, aware that every moment he demonstrates their closeness is another layer of armor for him.
"A-Cheng was worried about you as well," his father says.
Huoyao claps him on the arm. "I'm fine," he soothes. He sits back down, tugging Wanyin with him and looking at the zheng. "I didn't know you played."
Wen Ruohan flexes his fingers. "It has been some time. I am sure Zewu-jun shall find my playing lacking."
Xichen shakes his head, quietly amused. "I am far from a master of the zheng myself, your excellency. I am sure you have far more experience than I."
They pass the time until dinner with Xichen and Wen Ruohan taking turns playing on the zheng, which eventually becomes a duet with Xichen playing Liebing. Huoyao would be content to just sit and listen to his husband to play for an age, and for all his modesty, Wen Ruohan is an excellent zheng player.
"I haven't seen that old thing in decades," Fuhe says as he sweeps into the room between songs. "I promise I kept a very close eye on him, Han-ge."
"I was there too," Bingwen grumbles from behind him.
"I'm sure you were very helpful, didi," Longwei says indulgently.
Huoyao again considers implicating Bingwen in the crime Xue Yang didn't commit, and discards the thought a second time.
Fuhe and Bingwen give their initial reports, namely that Xue Yang hasn't said anything, they found a great deal of incriminating evidence in his rooms, and that Xiao Xingchen continues to be cooperative.
"What are you going to do with him, a-die?" Huoyao asks.
"Xiao Xingchen? Well, the poor thing's been shaped into quite a state after all the drugs and torture Xue Yang put him through. He needs very specific care."
"Do you think that is something A-Yao and I could provide, your excellency?" Xichen asks.
"I doubt it," he says in a dubious tone. "I know you have not gotten much chance to see him, and you should be glad for it. His sense of self-worth is intrinsically tied to his ability to sexual please and service others."
Huoyao knows this already, unfortunately, since he and Qionglin were propositioned by Xiao Xingchen in Xue Yang's courtyard. He did tell Xichen about it, but his husband wanted to ask anyway.
"There is no way to restore him to his former self?" Xichen presses.
"Unfortunately, I think not. The damage done to his mind strikes me as rather permanent." Wen Ruohan looks almost genuinely regretful for a moment. Almost. "I know neither of you would comfortable with a such a thing, and I won't ask it of you. I will be personally seeing to Xiao Xingchen's care."
Huoyao knew this was the only possible outcome ever since he saw Xiao Xingchen trying desperately to get Qionglin's robes out of the way. He couldn't have done anything to stop it.
Xichen and Wanyin both look deeply disturbed.
"Think of it as an act of kindness," Wen Ruohan says. "Without someone else to fill the role Xue Yang made, he'll be miserable. I will be good to him." He sighs. "It is, after all, partially my fault he is like this."
Huoyao is abrruptly slapped in the chest by the realization that Wen Ruohan truly believes this to be the merciful course of action. He has no regrets about his involvement in turning Xiao Xingchen into a shattered creature, but he doesn't intend to let him suffer. So long as alleviating his suffering means that the emperor gets something out of it as well, anyway. He suppresses a shudder.
We can't save everyone, he reminds Xichen, and his husband squeezes his hand under the table.
"We will either get the location of the seal out of Xue Yang, or we won't," Fuhe says. "Angsting over it now will do us no good. Either way, we'll find the seal." He sounds very confident. "I, for one, am quite hungry."
Chapter 32: Meng Yao, you fucking worthless son of a whore!
Summary:
The interrogation of Xue Yang. Limbs are lost. Meng Yao reunites with someone he thought he would never see again
Notes:
CW: torture, multilation, loss of limbs, mind break.
I'd also just like to give a big huge hug to all my regular readers, and regular commenters. Updates have been sporadic and responses to comments are basically null, which is largely due to a recent decline in my health. You don't need to worry about me, I'm getting things figured out and I will be fine, but I need to conserve my extremely limited energy for other things. This series will continue to update at least once a month(ish) in either the main story or extras, and I will try to respond to comments when I can, but I can't guarantee anything in that regard. Just please know that I read every single comment, and cherish them immensely, along with every single kudo.
Chapter Text
The inside of the isolation room in the dungeon is saturated in blood. Meng Yao's nose wrinkles at the smell.
Surprisingly enough, all of the blood seems to be coming from Xiao Xingchen. Xue Yang, shackled to the wall by each limb, doesn't have a scratch on him. Unlike the daozhang, who has his head and hands in a pillory so his back, rear end, and thighs can be whipped into a gory mess.
He's whipped people before. He's whipped them bloody, even worse than this. But what is being done to Xiao Xingchen is done with no skill. Just brutality and anger.
"Stop," Meng Yao commands the man wielding the whip.
"Yes, my prince," he says.
"Out." He points. The two tortures leave, scurrying away like rats. That leaves Meng Yao, Xing Longwei, and two scribes, along with the prisoners.
"Thank you for making him stop, your majesty," Xiao Xingchen says. "It hurts." His voice is raw and raspy from screaming.
Meng Yao reaches out with his core, feels the little switch inside Xiao Xingchen, and flips it. The poor man gasps as his cultivation floods back into his body.
"Is that a good idea, my prince?" Longwei asks, though he looks relieved.
"This was not done well. Some of the wounds go down to the bone. He needs to heal," Meng Yao says. He rummages through the cabinet on the far wall to find an antiseptic.
"I could have told you that," Xue Yang snaps, the first words he's spoken since Meng Yao and Longwei came inside. "He's going to fucking die if you let them keep going at him!"
"Then tell us what we need to know," Meng Yao says without turning around. "Tell us where the seal is."
"I. Don't. Know," he says emphatically. "Come on, Yao-ge, you know me better than this! I wouldn't keep holding out on information if I had it!"
Finally finding the antiseptic he was looking for, Meng Yao turns around. "You never told Wen Ruohan where the piece of Yin iron you supposedly had was." He unstops the lid on the antiseptic, pausing to sink in the look of horror on Xue Yang's face. Because that's the truth, he never did spill that information. He still hasn't.
"I didn't take the seal!" He pulls at his bindings, but they're iron and bolted into the wall. "I didn't, I swear!"
Meng Yao gently touches a patch of uninjured skin on Xiao Xingchen's shoulder. "I'm cleaning your wounds. This will sting."
He sobs and wails like he's being killed, but he remains perfectly still. By the time Meng Yao is finished, the wounds are all more than half-closed. Xiao Xingchen has powerful cultivation, even though he seems at a loss as to how to use it in his current state. Meng Yao had been certain of that. He could easily break out of the pillory now, but he doesn't know he can. His mind is absolutely ruined.
Behind him, the door opens. "Ah, I heard I would find you here," Wen Ruohan says. Meng Yao stiffens. "So dutiful. You work so hard, my son."
Meng Yao turns around. "Whatever torturer was whipping him before needs remedial classes. I've never seen such a sloppy job." He gestures to Xiao Xingchen's back. "If I hadn't seen to him, there would have been severe muscle detaching."
Wen Ruohan sweeps to his side, nodding sagely. "I see what you mean. No finesse at all." He turns on his heel to look at Xue Yang. "Well? Are you ready to talk yet?"
"There's nothing to say!" Xue Yang thrashes. "I didn't steal it!"
"Then why were you and your little plaything fleeing Nightless City?" Wen Tieyun snaps. Apparently he arrived with Wen Ruohan.
Xue Yang's eyes dart back and forth, only to land on Meng Yao. They go big, bright, wild. "It-- it's him!"
Meng Yao's heart skips a beat.
Wen Ruohan's eyes narrow dangerously. "I will give you the chance to explain yourself," he says. "Surely you aren't accusing Huoyao of anything."
Xue Yang rapidly backpedals. "I already told your men, I-I found a letter, your excellency, addressed to the prince and from my Xingxing's former cultivation partner! They were plotting to kill me!"
Wen Ruohan turns to Meng Yao. "Is this true?"
"No, a-die. I have not been in correspondence with anyone outside of Nightless City, much less with intention to kill anyone." It's the truth, and he delivers it with all the force of his wide-eyed, confused face. "Does he have the letter? Perhaps it was a forgery."
"He has no letter, your excellency," one of the scribes puts in. "He claims it disintegrated into dust in his pocket."
Wen Ruohan sneers. "How convenient."
"But it did!" Xue Yang looks wildly around the room. "I'm telling the truth! I didn't steal the fucking amulet, I didn't hide it anywhere, and I wasn't fleeing Nightless City!"
Meng Yao moves to stand at his father's side. "Perhaps we could try speaking in hypotheticals, since the truth frightens you so much. If you were to rob the emperor of the stygian tiger seal, where would you hide it?"
Xue Yang's mouth falls open in an instant of pure shock. Then his face contorts into a gruesome, furious snarl. "You!" The chains clank as he fights against their hold. "You're doing this! You framed me!"
Well, he figured it out much more quickly than Meng Yao expected. But he's already accused him once, and Wen Ruohan didn't believe him for a second, which still doesn't make him any less anxious.
He turns his big, frightened eyes on his father. But he's only looking at Xue Yang with an expression of disgust, and rage. Complete, open rage.
"How dare you," Wen Ruohan spits. "Treasonous rat!" He slaps him hard enough to slam his head into the wall. "Gag him. I don't want to hear his voice anymore, and he obviously needs much more motivation to give us the location of the seal."
He turns to Meng Yao, sees the look of carefully crafted but genuine fear-- he absolutely cannot be allowed to suspect the truth-- and gathers him up into his arms.
"I am not Nie Mingjue," he murmurs into Meng Yao's hair. "I will not throw you to the vultures at the slightest accusation, Yao'er."
"Thank you, a-die," he whispers. "I didn't… you know I didn't take the seal."
"I know." He kisses Meng Yao's head. "You're such a dutiful son. So loyal. This father is lucky to have you."
Meng Yao allows himself to tremble. Just a bit. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't let him upset me."
"You are only human, Yao'er," Wen Ruohan protests. "He will be punished for his traitorous accusations, I promise you. You do not have to stay, if you do not want."
When they part, Meng Yao makes a show of wiping his eyes. He's only crying a little. "I'll stay, at least for a while."
Back on the wall, Tieyun has managed to force a leather gag into Xue Yang's mouth.
"If you are ready to tell us where the seal is, snap the fingers of your hand," Wen Ruohan says darkly.
Immediately he snaps his fingers. Tieyun removes the gag.
"Meng Yao, you fucking worthless son of a whore! I don't know why--"
Time seems to slow down. Meng Yao sees Wen Ruohan draw his sword, and it seems very far away. He's watching through mottled glass. Wen Ruohan's sword is a very long jian with a faint hook on the end. It's called Baoxin, Fell Heart. Wen Ruohan doesn't always even carry it, much less use it, but he has it here now in his hands, out of the sheath.
With a single, easy downward swipe, Baoxin chops off Xue Yang's right arm at the shoulder. He screams. Xiao Xingchen screams even though he can't see what is going on. Xing Longwei gasps and even Wen Tieyun jumps. Meng Yao is too well practiced to react.
Wen Ruohan slams his palm against the bleeding, gaping wound in Xue Yang's side where his arm used to be, and the bleeding stops. "You lose a limb for each slight against my son."
Meng Yao feels faint.
Xing Longwei catches him when his knees wobble. "My prince!"
"I'm alright," he says, aware that it's a lie. He stares at the severed limb, the wrist still in the shackle and dangling uselessly. Wen Ruohan did that. For him. Just because Xue Yang called him a son of a whore.
"Take Yao'er back to his room, Longwei," Wen Ruohan commands. "You deserve better than this, my son. You don't have to torture anymore, if you don't want to. A-die will take care of this treasonous wretch." He sheaths his sword, and plants a gentle kiss on Meng Yao's head. "Shh. It's alright. I know you're stressed about Daiyu, and the loss of the seal. Don't fret. I won't be like I was before." He squeezes him, gently. Tenderly. "The yin iron is balanced now, even without the seal."
He sounds so confident. He speaks like this is reassuring to Meng Yao, like knowing he has to kill the man who truly is everything he's ever hoped for in a father is going to make him feel better.
Longwei lifts Meng Yao off his feet entirely, and carries him like he weighs nothing.
"I'm glad to be out of there too," he says quietly as the door closes behind them. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, my prince. You've moved beyond that stage in your life. Being a torturer is behind you. It's always repulsed you, hasn't it?"
Meng Yao is still so dazed he actually answers the question. "Yes…" he feels like something inside he usually has tied down was ripped up by the whirlwind of emotion, and now it's flapping around loose. Untethered.
"Your strength of will is astounding." They reach the upper levels of the dungeon, and Longwei puts him down. "He's wrong, you know. About your mother. She was no whore. She was the Second Madam Wen. Her profession before that is inconsequential."
That's what the spot in the shrine where her plaque and ashes rest says. Second Madam Wen. He isn't sure if you can posthumously marry someone, but Wen Ruohan certainly treats any slight against Meng Shi like a slight against his deceased wife.
Would his mother be happy, if she had gotten to actually be Second Madam Wen? Probably. She only ever wanted safety and security, for herself, for Meng Yao. And he knows Wen Ruohan would have treated her well. Maybe, if First Madam Wen was alive at the same time, they could have been friends. Wen Ruohan's treatment of his first wife was legendarily kind.
A-Yao!
Meng Yao hides his startled jump. A-Huan?
There's a messenger here for you! They've found Madam Sisi, and she is alive!
Inside his ribcage, Meng Yao's heart leaps. Sisi, alive! And found!
"Are you happy to see your husband, my prince?" Longwei asks.
Meng Yao doesn't get the chance to respond, because they round a corner and come face-to-face with a group of four guards, including Fuhe and Shuili. Between them is a slim, slight woman with a veil covering half her face.
Even so, Meng Yao recognizes her.
"Auntie Sisi!"
She catches him as he all but leaps into her arms.
"A-Yao," she whispers, drawing back to cup his face and take a look at him. "It really is you! They said, but I didn't believe them…" she buries her face in his shoulder, and sobs wrack her lithe frame.
Meng Yao holds on tight. She's thinner than when he last saw her, and older, but still beautiful. Sisi was one year younger than Meng Shi, so she's probably thirty-seven or thirty-eight, now. It seems that life has not been kind to her, with how thin she is, how raggedy her clothes are. And her covered face...
"Auntie, why are you wearing a veil?" Meng Yao asks. It makes him slightly suspicious, even though all his very unsubtle qi checks say she is who she claims to be.
Sisi sighs. "A jealous wife caught up with me." Drawing back from Meng Yao's embrace, she tugs on the end of it. "The bitch hired some thugs to scar me up. They did a good job."
Meng Yao's world spins and turns black. What kind of petty woman would take out her husband's infidelity on the whore he purchased? He stamps down his anger, he doesn't want Sisi to think he's mad at her.
"They tell me you're a prince," Sisi goes on like Meng Yao isn't still considering the fastest way to find out who this jealous wife is so he can have her and her worthless husband spitted on pikes and maybe roasted over a fire. "That you've been legitimized by your father the emperor. Is that right?"
Meng Yao doesn't feel like going into the whole deal of who his father is, not here. Not now. He's too tired for that. So he just nods, and hugs Sisi again.
"They also told me you're married, and to the finest young man available! Who is this mystery husband of yours, A-Yao?" Her voice is light, and sparkling. Gods, stars, any power that looks down on them, he missed her.
"His name is Wen Xichen," he says. "He is a dream come true."
"When do I get to meet him?"
"As soon as you would like," Longwei says. "We ought to return to the prince's quarters, I was just escorting him there."
Sisi looks him up and down. "Who are you?"
He bows. "Xing Dai, courtesy Longwei. I am the second member of the emperor's personal guard, and I am currently acting as temporary personal guard to Prince Huoyao until we are able to resolve the current issue with his usual one."
Sisi raises her eyebrows at Meng Yao. "That's such a lovely name! It was chosen well."
Meng Yao visibly preens, he can feel it. He does like Huoyao, that's one of the many problems.
"My father gave it to me," he explains. As he tells her about the new character, he also takes this chance to tell Xichen that Sisi is here, right next to Meng Yao, and they will probably be joining him shortly in their rooms. He allows Longwei and Fuhe to begin herding them towards Meng Yao's quarters while they talk.
"What's happened with your usual guard?" Sisi asks, tucking her hand into Meng Yao's elbow.
People are watching, important people, so Meng Yao allows the tears he's been repressing for a very long time to well up. "Oh, auntie, it's truly awful. Shi Daiyu is my usual guard, she's also a friend, but she was poisoned by a traitor in the course of him also stealing a valuable artifact from my father."
"The healers believe she will be fine," Fuhe says. "She has been comatose for about eight hours now, but she is stable. In all likelihood she will wake and be fully capable of returning to her duties. You needn't worry about her, Yao'er. I am confident she will be aware and awake soon."
"Thank you uncle," Meng Yao says. "I shudder to imagine what Xue Yang's vile concoction might have done to her without the timely intervention of healer Wen Qing." He glances at Sisi. "She could perhaps do something for your scars, auntie. She is a very skilled doctor."
Sisi sighs, making the veil flutter. "They are deep, and surely permanent. Don't fret over this old auntie, A-Yao."
Meng Yao grabs her arm. "I can help you," he says, abruptly feeling frantic, like he has to drill this into her head or else something awful will happen. "I can, I have resources and a station and power now! Please let me use them to help you."
"His majesty is correct," Fuhe says. "You are counted among the members of Huoyao's family, the sole surviving member from his mother's side. You will be treated as such."
It's a lot to take in, Meng Yao knows. He puts his hand over hers, in the crook of his elbow. "Everything is going to be fine from now on. You'll never want for anything. I promise." Pure, genuine emotion wells up in him. "Let me give you what I couldn't give a-niang."
Sisi sniffs, just once, but she sounds choked with emotion when she speaks. "A-Shi would be proud of you," she manages past what is probably a sizable lump in her throat. "Look you, dressed so well and a member of the gentry."
He prays that that is the truth. His mother's spirit would, hopefully, be satisfied and proud of his best attempts to be righteous.
"Another thing. A-niang's plaque is here," he whispers. "In the Wen family shrine." He thinks about the label that calls her Second Madam Wen. Would Sisi be jealous? He hopes not. Meng Shi loved her until her last breath. She never even met Wen Ruohan.
They've reached Meng Yao's rooms. He opens the door, and Xichen is there in an instant. It won't do to be a poor host, so he invites Fuhe and Longwei inside.
"I ought to stay outside," Longwei says. "In order to better protect you."
"I shall come in for a little while, Fuhe says. "I have to go report to Han-ge, but I would not mind a cup of tea and some time off my feet."
The door closes behind the three of them, and Meng Yao turns to face his husband. He's grinning, he's just so happy to have her here. At last.
"Auntie, this is my husband," he says. "Wen Huan, courtesy Xichen." He doesn't want Xichen to have to introduce himself. Not with the Wen surname. "A-Huan, this is Sisi, my mother's dearest friend and confidant."
Xichen bows. "It is lovely to meet you at last, Madam Sisi. A-Yao has told me much about you. All good things, I assure you."
His husband busies himself with preparing and serving tea while they take a seat. Meng Yao regales Sisi with the tales of how he helped win the war, and describing his and A-Huan's wedding. Fuhe drains his cup of tea and bids them farewell.
Should we tell her? A-Huan writes in the matrix.
Meng Yao has thought too hard about this. I don't think so. She isn't in a position to be able to help, it will make her a smaller target, and she will be less stressed. They haven't told Qin Su for the same reason. Meng Yao feels in his gut that he can trust both of them, Sisi and this unexpected sister of his, but they both deserve to be happy and comfortable. They shouldn't feel like Meng Yao feels every second, constantly on high alert and ready to manipulate a situation at a moment's notice.
They'll tell Qin Su, soon. Maybe Yanli will tell her, that would make things easier for Meng Yao. And he'll tell Sisi. Keeping them in the dark is cruel. Meng Yao doesn't want to be cruel.
For now, though, he allows Sisi and A-Huan to talk over tea, as if everything is well. He can have this, just for a little while. Just for a little while.
Chapter 33: How long have you known about A-Xuan being a fake?
Summary:
Meng Yao is abruptly awoken.
Notes:
We've got some extras, folks!
First off, this is a soft and hopeful h/c wherein Qin Su and Jiang Cheng are each given medical treatment and hope for improvement by the Wen siblings. Chronologically it takes place somewhere between when Qin Su first arrives at Nightless City and this chapter.Next up is this, a very dead dovey mini-arc that comes directly after last chapter and that, due to my own error of posting order, wasn't posted at the same time as the chapter.
And, finally, a proper branching path for this chapter. You can read the events leading up to and during this chapter from Meng Yao's POV here, or from Wen Ruohan and Jiang Cheng's by clicking here.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Meng Yao wakes abruptly to noise ricocheting inside his head, loud enough to be painful.
SELF DESTRUCT REQUEST.
SELF DESTRUCT REQUEST.
SELF DESTRUCT REQUEST.
It's coming from the fake Jin Zixuan. He claws at his head, because why the hell is it so loud?! Did he make it this loud? Usually the copies communicate very quietly and sedately!
SELF DESTRUCT REQUEST.
Why are you requesting to self-destruct? Meng Yao shoves at the copy.
COMPROMISED. BEING EXAMINED
Fuck.
Yes, self destruct, he responds. Now!
The thin filament of a bond between them vanishes, and the noise drones into a whine, then a dry and crumbly sound. Finally he's alone in his head again.
"A-Yao!?"
At some point during the splitting headache that came from having the copy shrieking into his head, Meng Yao had rolled onto the floor. And then, of course his thrashing woke his husband, who instantly followed him right out of bed and onto the floor. A-Huan strokes his sweaty, tangled hair and helps him sit up.
"The fake Jin Zixuan was discovered," he gasps. He's just barely not hyperventilating. "I had it self-destruct. It was being examined."
Xichen's eyes go wide, and he tugs Meng Yao urgently up off the floor and onto the bed. "Do we need to run?" He makes a quick sword seal, and Shuoyue lifts herself easily out of the stand on the wall, zipping into his hands. "I can fly us out of Nightless City."
Meng Yao shakes his head. He's calming down, after being so abruptly awakened. "I don't think so. The spell cannot be traced back to me now, I made sure of that. The self-destruction was complete. We--"
That is all he gets out before the door in the sitting room bursts open and several sets of pounding feet rush inside. The bedroom door is closed, hiding them from sight.
"My prince!"
The voice belongs to Shi Daiyu, but there are at least two other sets of feet with her.
Xichen unsheathes Shuoyue and puts himself in front of Meng Yao just as the bedroom door flies open. Daiyu leads Fuhe and Longwei, all with weapons drawn.
"You're alright," Fuhe breathes, and then sidesteps neatly around Xichen to gather Meng Yao into a hug. He doesn't seem to notice or care that Meng Yao is above the blankets. "I was so worried."
Meng Yao squirms free, standing up. "Uncle, what's going on?"
"We don't know," Longwei says. "Just that the Fire Palace is compromised and we need to get you and your husband to a secure location. Come with us."
I didn't have time to warn you, Daiyu writes in her matrix. The copy of Jin Zixuan was compromised sometime last night, at around midnight, but they only just started examining it. The problem is that Wen Ruohan has decided it was Wen Qing.
Meng Yao would have stopped walking if Longwei wasn't half dragging him. He knows that Wen Qing was involved in making a copy? He did worry that would happen, the fact that a medical exam could easily tell the fake is not human implicates her. Since she did not report it.
Yes. I did not have time to send her a message talisman either. I asked Mingxia to keep her eye out for a chance to do so.
Meng Yao's blood turns cold. If only he could communicate with everyone like he does Xichen and Daiyu… but he can't. There were only enough supplies to make two communication arrays, and he doesn't regret choosing to have them with Xichen and Daiyu.
If Wen Ruohan has decided Wen Qing was the culprit, he and Xichen aren't in immediate danger, but they do need to be on high alert. Especially if Wen Qing and company are captured before they can flee.
Fuck. If they're captured, Meng Yao will not be able to do anything at all to help them. Not without implicating himself. Qionglin may be able to play stupid and get himself out of it, which Wen Qing would certainly prefer over him being accused along with her. But that would mean Wen Qing taking all the blame on herself. If she is caught, she will be executed and there will be nothing Meng Yao can do to stop it.
And she absolutely knows that. She's too smart not to.
Fuhe ushers Meng Yao and Xichen away from their rooms, through the hall, into the throne room, and down a long, winding corridor that Meng Yao thinks runs parallel to the dungeon. A secret passage he's actually never seen before, and he has found a fair number of secret passages in the Fire Palace. Maybe this one is specifically for the more vulnerable members of the ruling family to be able to escape the palace without going through any major doors. The walls are made of densely packed earth, with the occasional lighting talisman that Fuhe waves into ignition as they pass.
"We are going to the safe room," he explains. "It is the best protected room in the palace, should there be an active threat."
I had no idea there was one here, Xichen writes.
Honestly? Neither did I, Meng Yao admits.
Halfway down they bump into Jiefu, holding a wailing child in his arms. He is accompanied by Cai Shuili, who has Nie Mingjue slung over his shoulder. Chifeng-zun seems to be unconscious. Maybe drugged. Beside them, Zhan Xingxi leads a drowsy-looking Xiao Xingchen by the arm. Chu Bingwen and Luo Xianbian are also with them.
"Shhh, A-Yuan," Jiefu murmurs, gently rocking the little bundle. "It's okay. You're okay."
The group is one person smaller than it should be. "Where is Wanyin?" Meng Yao asks. His friend is nowhere to be seen.
"We are not sure," Zhan Xingxi tells him.
"He fled the emperor's chambers," Bingwen growls. "For unknown reasons."
Was Wanyin taking this chance to escape? That doesn't seem like something he would do...
"Come on," Fuhe gestures at his brother. "We need to keep moving."
"I can take the little one," Meng Yao says. Jiefu looks miserable, unable to draw his sword, and since Meng Yao is unarmed, he may as well make himself useful.
"Thank you," he whispers, and hands over his child without a second thought. The second heir to the empire, after Meng Yao. This tiny, screaming thing.
The baby is a little bundle of warmth in his arms. He abruptly stops crying to look up at Meng Yao with huge eyes, and grabs a handful of his loose hair to shove it in his mouth, fist and hair in one go. Like this he can't actually swallow any hair, which is good. Hair can be a major choking hazard.
"Well, if it keeps him quiet," Fuhe mutters, continuing to shove them down the passageway. Jiefu and Fuhe defend their rear, while Daiyu and Longwei take the front. The two guards with Chifeng-zun and Xiao Xingchen keep pace with them.
Meng Yao didn't have time to grab Hensheng, which makes his fingers itch. He could call his sword to him even over this distance, but he still prefers to keep her existence a secret. He doesn't have his dagger either. This little infant human is the closest thing to a weapon he has, and even the idea of using him as a human shield makes Meng Yao's stomach turn. Perhaps the child could inflict some kind of chewing damage with his toothless gums? Doubtful. The baby is as defenseless as he is, poor thing. At least they can be defenseless together.
He squashes annoyance at Fuhe for not giving him time to grab a weapon. Xichen has Shuoyue, and it looks like he grabbed Liebing on the way out of the room as well. His husband is armed. And though Meng Yao hates knowing he will have to depend solely on A-Huan, he doesn't delude himself into thinking that he could contribute more than just a vague sense of camaraderie if they end up in a fight. Meng Yao can't stand feeling useless, but it's hard not to when you are surrounded by some of the best swordsmen in the world.
He and A-Yuan are well-guarded, but he chides himself for getting so worked up when he knows there probably is no real emergency. No one new has infiltrated the Fire Palace. Wen Ruohan is overreacting.
The room they end up in is small but comfortable. Qin Su and her father are already inside, along with Qisen, Songgen, and a few guards Meng Yao doesn't know. They're all seated on a soft couch. Several more couches line the exterior, and a stasis box that probably contains food sits by the west wall. A few simple lanterns illuminate the space. A small shelf contains a few books, and a painting easel is set up in one of the far corners. Three large beds are lined up against the east wall, with gauzy curtains that can be closed around them for privacy.
How did Meng Yao not know about this place before? Several people could stay comfortably down here for days, assuming the food rations are enough. It would have been a nice thing to know about.
The only door into the room is made of hefty iron, and it takes the combined work of Fuhe, Jiefu, Shuili, and an unknown guard to haul it shut.
"Let's sit," Xichen says softly, and ushers Meng Yao to a cushion near to Qin Su and her father. He still does his best to keep Meng Yao off his feet, even now. He allows himself to be gently herded to a stack of cushions, where he sits down.
"Good... er, I suppose it is morning, A-Yao," Qin Su says sleepily. Her hair is mussed and she doesn't seem to be wearing shoes.
"Good morning," he and Xichen say in perfect sync and entirely on reflex. It breaks some of the tension, and Qin Cangye laughs aloud.
"Alright," Meng Yao says, hefting A-Yuan up onto his shoulder and crossing his legs a bit self-consciously, too aware of the fact that he's in just his sleeping robes. Why does this keep happening to him? "Now that we are here, can someone please explain to me why we are here?"
Longwei nods, sitting on a cushion across from him and Xichen. "It seems that Wen Qing has betrayed us, my prince."
Meng Yao is proud of the face he makes, because Longwei sweeps over to his side and pats his shoulder like he needs to be comforted.
"How did she betray us?" Xichen asks, and Meng Yao abruptly realizes that he knows absolutely nothing of the conversation he and Daiyu were having. He passed on none of it. Clearly an unacceptable amount of his brain is still asleep.
"At some point, A-Xuan seems to have escaped Nightless City, and been replaced with a fake. A very clever, very convincing fake." He sighs, shaking his head. "As his physician, she was the only one with enough access to him unsupervised to have cast such a spell."
"How did she even make a convincing enough fake?" Meng Yao asks, widening his eyes a bit.
"We aren't certain of the spell's origin quite yet," Longwei says. "But we reverse-engineered enough to be certain the process takes more than an hour. Wen Qing is the only person outside of the emperor's guard who has him unsupervised for that long. Not only that, but this was easily uncovered with a simple medical exam. She could not possibly have missed it, and failed to report it."
"But that does really mean it's her?" Meng Yao asks. He isn't willing to give up on her, not yet. Maybe he's still too tired to be thinking properly. "Is that all the proof we have?"
Right as Meng Yao speaks, a small message talisman flits over to Fuhe. Everyone stares and holds their breath.
"She fled," Fuhe spits. "Apparently she was in league with A-Cheng as well, because he snuck away to warn her!" His eyes go wide. "Her other accomplice shot Ziran in the throat and... and killed him. Han-ge and Mingxia are on their way here, while Tieyun and Minyu are pursuing the fugutives."
The 'other accomplice' has to be Wen Qionglin. Well, that's one fewer guard to worry about. Apparently an active threat is enough to calm his nerves and bring out the master archer in him that usually hides under layers of anxiety.
"If she is already out of Nighless City," Jiefu says, sounding very annoyed, "why are we still down here?"
"Han-ge wanted to make a thorough sweep for any more fakes," Fuhe says placatingly. "I know you want to get your son back home, didi. Once we hear from Han-ge and the rest of the guard, we will be able to leave. But he didn't want to risk anyone going after the most vulnerable, and that includes A-Yuan."
Meng Yao looks down at the baby in his arms. A-Yuan is still chewing on a handful of his hair, which is loose and unstyled. Because he was asleep twenty minutes ago.
I think Wen Qing and Qionglin got away, he writes to Xichen. It sounds like Wanyin went with them.
I'm surprised he was able to, Xichen responds. I thought the brainwashing might have made running from Wen Ruohan too painful.
Well, if he was found aiding Wen Qing, that will probably be just as painful. He leans into Xichen's side as his husband comes up beside him. Him getting out is preferable.
"He is a beautiful child," Xichen says to Jiefu, who sits down by Longwei. Fuhe takes a seat on Meng Yao's other side. "Is your wife on the way?"
Jiefu cringes. "My wife died giving birth to him," he murmurs.
Xichen's face pales. "Oh…" he coughs into his hand, then looks back down at A-Yuan. "I'm sorry for your loss." He gently tugs at the baby's fist, and surprisingly easily he relinquishes his handful of hair. Only to seize Xichen's finger and replace it with that. He winces. "Ah. No teeth yet, but his jaw is strong."
"A-Yuan is very strong," Fuhe agrees. "He'll grow up to be the pride of the Wen, I know it." He strokes his nephew's hair.
The idea of this tiny baby growing up into a fearsome warrior is laughable. But then again, even Wen Ruohan was a tiny and adorable lump of human once upon a time. He can't imagine his father being anything other than powerful and lethal with a sword, but nobody is born perfect.
Well, A-Huan was probably born perfect.
The door swings open, and everyone in the room spins toward it, Xichen's finger vacating A-Yuan's mouth.
"Stand down," Wen Ruohan says. "All is well. The fake A-Xuan was the only one, and I've confirmed that none of our allies are otherwise compromised." He looks around. "Everyone arrived here alright?"
"Yes, a-die," Meng Yao says. A-Yuan has reclaimed his handful of hair and is once again diligently attempting to consume it, this time with more fervor. He carefully extracts it. "A-Yuan, you can't eat hair, sweetheart. It's a choking risk."
Wen Ruohan chuckles. He strides across the room to them and helps Meng Yao free his hair. "You are very good with children, Yao'er."
Meng Yao passes A-Yuan back to his father, and finger-combs out his hair. It's an absolute mess. "Thank you." He glances down at his bare feet. "I still don't entirely understand what happened."
Wen Ruohan nods, and sweeps him and Xichen toward the door. "I was concerned by A-Xuan's behaviour last night. I checked him, and discovered there was something very wrong with his body. When I looked further, I found that what I believed was A-Xuan was actually a very clever fake." He shuts the door to the safe room as the last people file out. "I assume the real A-Xuan has been out of Qishan for quite a while. I observed the fake from a distance for a time before calling in Xianbian to take a look. But once we started properly examining the copy, it crumbled into dust. Likely some kind of defense mechanism."
Meng Yao makes his eyes go wide. "Do you think someone was spying into your quarters like that?" Perhaps he can misdirect him, put him on the wrong idea entirely and make him think this about spying, not rescue.
"It's possible." Wen Ruohan shrugs. "I have Xianbian still investigating the remnants as we speak, but I already know the culprit."
"Uncle told me it was Wen Qing," Meng Yao says softly. "Is it really?"
Wen Ruohan nods. "Why else would she flee?" His gaze darkens. "But I am not pleased about A-Cheng's involvement. I doubt he was heavily involved, or else I would have found out about this sooner. But he did warn Wen Qing, which allowed her to escape my grasp."
They escaped, Xichen writes with no small sense of relief.
They pass into the light of another talisman, this one brighter than the others. Meng Yao abruptly realizes that the robe Wen Ruohan is wearing isn't some strange pattern. It's splattered with blood, and there are larger splotches of it on each shoulder.
"A-die, are you hurt?"
Wen Ruohan pauses, touching his bloodied left shoulder as if he'd forgotten about it. "The boy Wen Qing fled with shot me. Twice. The only arrow that could have been a danger to me was taken by Ziran instead." His eyes go distant. "He saved my life, at the cost of his own. He was on my guard for so long..."
It seems like genuine mourning to Meng Yao. True sadness over the loss of a friend. He didn't know Wang Ziran well at all, but one less member of the emperor's inner circle to have to deal with is helpful regardless.
Meng Yao casts his eyes down. "His loss will be felt keenly."
"Indeed." His father shuts his eyes and takes a moment to compose himself."I had the injuries patched up by Ting Guozhen before coming here, don't worry, my son. Your concern is touching, but I heal very quickly. They will be scars in one week, and gone in three."
That is terrifyingly fast healing. Meng Yao licks his lips, and opens his mouth to say something, but he's cut off by another communication talisman flitting up to the emperor. He raises a finger, instructing Meng Yao to wait while he reads it. Slowly, his face pales, and then darkens with anger. Meng Yao's stomach twists, and he holds tighter onto Xichen's arm.
"Han-ge, what is it?" Fuhe askes, slowing down, and bringing the entire group with him.
"Wen Qing and her archer accomplice escaped," he says slowly. "A-Cheng stayed behind to slow them down. And..." he trails off, looking around at the group with something intense in his eyes. "The archer shot and killed Minyu."
The loud sound of Nie Mingjue's paralyzed body hitting the floor makes Meng Yao jump.
"He... he what?" Shuili whispers.
"Tieyun is on his way back here, with A-Cheng, and the body." Ruohan picks up Chifeng-zun. "We can't stay down here. Come on."
Shuili drifts toward the back of the group, his eyes misty and distant. Longwei and Xingxi go back to walk with him.
That's two fewer guards to worry about, then. Bless Wen Qionglin.
"I know A-Cheng is your friend," Wen Ruohan says softly, "but he still must be punished for this."
Wen Qing and her brother may have gotten away, but Wanyin was captured. Or remained here voluntarily. Fuck.
"I will not execute him," his father assures him. "I am too fond of him for that, and I have already lost my peony. I do not want to get rid of another harem member. But I cannot be lax, either. You know this."
They reach the entrance to the tunnel again, and the tunnel spits them out into the throne room. Jiefu instantly makes a beeline for the exit, as his son starts wailing again. He has to walk past the throne room, and the four people within.
Wanyin is on his knees with his arms bound behind his back. Shi Mingxia and Wen Tieyun have him flanked on both sides.
Meng Yao's heart skips a beat. Wanyin looks miserable. There's dirt smeared on his face, and both his eyes are swollen, as if he got into a tussle. He is wearing a half torn robe and a pair of black pants, which have holes torn in the knees, and Tieyun's sword is under his chin.
Wen Ruohan stands in front of him, crossing his arms. "A-Cheng," he says, in a low and furious tone. "How long have you known about A-Xuan being a fake?" He jerks his chin at Tieyun as he removes a block and stick from his sleeve. "Let him answer me."
There are a tense few moments of silence. Will Wanyin be compelled, either through the usual truth serum the concubines are dosed with or the brainwashing, to reveal their conspiracy? He writes for several heartbeats, then passes the paper to Tieyun. His hands are trembling and tears drip off his jaw.
"'I only found out after I overheard your discussion with Xianbian in the study," Tieyun reads, and Meng Yao relaxes faintly. Wanyin is still capable of lying to the emperor, since he has known about the fake Jin Zixuan since it was created. Clearly, the truth serum and brainwashing didn't account for mutism. "'I owed Wen Qing a debt for aid she gave to my family before the war. I had to repay her'."
Wen Ruohan shakes his head, sighing. "It must be difficult being so noble," he muses. Then he raises his hand and slaps him, hard enough that he goes flying into the wall with a sickening crunch.
We have to stand back, Meng Yao writes to A-Huan when his husband twitches as if he's going to run to their friend.
I know, he responds miserably. There's nothing we can do.
Wanyin picks himself up from the heap he landed in. Nothing looks majorly broken, thank heaven.
"Take him to the dungeon," Wen Ruohan says with a wave of his hand. "I don't want to see his face for a while, until my temper has cooled."
He sobs, openly and miserably. Wanyin reaches out for Wen Ruohan, making a little croaking noise, tears pouring off his face. He trembles violently.
Wen Ruohan turns his back, and the guards seize him and drag him away.
Notes:
I hope you're all ready for the next little arc, because things are just going to keep on this track for a while.
Thank you to all my readers! I deeply appreciate each and every one of you, and I apologize for my continued absence in comment replies. I am still wrestling with my health, and will have to ask that everyone be patient with me 🙏
Chapter 34: Just knowing that the spell is Lan in origin doesn't mean it will implicate anyone
Summary:
The backlash from Wen Qing and Wen Ning's escape continues to spread.
Notes:
Wow, so uh. June sure happened, right? Honestly the whole month was kinda a blur for me.
To make up for it, you'll be getting the next chapter in a couple days! Because I'll say right here this one ends in a cliffie and while I do have my fair share of evil author cackling I truly don't want to leave you in suspense for *too* long.Well. Not much longer than I already have.
Anyway buckle up because things are about to get real.
Chapter Text
Once they are gone, though, Wen Ruohan deflates. "It is a lucky thing I have Xingxing," he muses under his breath.
Meng Yao tugs his father's sleeve. "A-die, may I ask what your plan is?"
"Of course." He swipes a hand over his eyes. "To be frank, I do not have one right now. At present I do not trust myself not to sentence him to something too harsh, in my anger. I will decide later, though I suspect he will need another dose of the mindshaper."
Is that what the awful drug that destroyed Xiao Xingchen is called?
"He's had two," Wen Ruohan explains, oblivious to Meng Yao's inner turmoil, "and I hoped that would be enough to properly mold him, but I see he will require more. That is alright."
"What is a mindshaper, a-die?"
Wen Ruohan explains with an indulgent smile. "A two-part method of brain shaping, my son. One half is a chemical cocktail for the subject to ingest, while the other half is a talisman. They scrape a person down to their bare vulnerabilities, and put them in a highly suggestible state."
Meng Yao nods. He's guessed at all that, and gotten some vague confirmations from what little he's seen of it, but first hand information is always best. "Have you been using it on your entire harem?" He needs to know, he learned his lesson from not paying enough attention to Jin Zixuan. If the others are being brainwashed, he needs to know.
"No, only A-Cheng. Xingxing was given several doses-- seven, I believe-- by Xue Yang, but I only plan to use it on my lotus, and in small doses. I've forgone the use of the talisman both times with A-Cheng, because I do not desire him broken."
Meng Yao swallows. His discomfort is hard to mask, but he must be doing a good job, because Wen Ruohan looks like a pleased teacher whose students are paying close attention. "If you don't want him broken, what do you plan to achieve by doing this?"
Wen Ruohan gives a thoughtful look, as if he's not even really thought about it much himself. "Partially it is about my own curiosity," he admits. "But I also want A-Cheng to be comfortable here. A-Jue, I do not care one way or another, and Xingxing seems quite comfortable already. A-Xuan..." He pauses. "He is another matter, which I will settle later. But you know I am quite soft on A-Cheng."
The fact that, for Wen Ruohan, being 'quite soft' on someone means he is still entirely capable of throwing them bodily into a wall and confining them in a dungeon to tortures unknown is not lost on Meng Yao.
"I know, a-die."
"You are fond of him as well, correct?"
Meng Yao nods vigorously. The more it is obvious he and Wanyin are friends, the more likely he is to survive. "Yes! He's... the closest thing I've had to a friend."
His father draws him in, this time squeezing his upper arms instead of a hug or kiss. "He is in the dungeon for his own protection," he says. "He will not be punished too harshly. I will allow Tieyun to do what he thinks is right, with the limitations of no permanent harm or death."
Meng Yao bites hard on his tongue to surprises a shudder. He wants to protest, because he does not trust Tieyun, not with the life of the lowest plague-infested mouse, much less his friend. But Wen Ruohan cuts him off.
"I know, Yao'er. I know. I will not let Shuili anywhere near A-Cheng until his temper is cooled."
Meng Yao reels. What? Cai Shuili is not a torturer, and Wanyin is not the one who killed his husband. But when he thinks about it, he can absolutely imagine the man taking it out on whoever he can catch.
The idea of a Cai Shuili unhinged and insane with grief is more than a little frightening. With his equally cruel husband at his side, he was already bad enough. What will he turn into without him?
"Would it be helpful if A-Yao and I went to the library to help master Xianbian research?" Xichen asks. If we are there, maybe we will be able to feed him some kind of misinformation.
Meng Yao accepts the hand his husband offers. Yes, that's a good idea. They can do something to throw him off their trail, to keep anyone from drawing any lines between the fake Jin Zixuan and Meng Yao or his husband. Wen Qing has already taken the fall and escaped with her life, somehow. That's two allies lost, her and Qionglin.
But they got away. They got away. Hopefully they'll make their way to Qinghe and Huaisang will take them in. They'll be alright. They have to be, Meng Yao can't take care of them anymore. His purview is limited to Nightless City.
Xichen nods with visible tension in his jaw. Meng Yao squeezes his hand, trying to think of a reassurance to give that won't sound insincere.
"I don't see why not," Wen Ruohan finally says. "If you feel too keyed up to go back to bed. You look quite stressed, Huan'er, are you sure you would not prefer to take a rest?"
"I am sure, your excellency."
Daiyu accompanies Meng Yao and Xichen to the library. Inside, Caihong is sitting by a low desk with Xianbian across from him, both pouring over books. They jump as they come in.
"My prince!"
Gesturing for them to sit down, Meng Yao and his husband join them. "Have you found anything?"
Xianbian shakes his head. "No, my prince."
"Not on this topic," Caihong agrees. "On the other topic you asked me to research, though, I have a manuscript you may be interested in."
Caihong stands and fetches a heavy tome that is titled Edible Plants and How to Use Them, and hands it to Meng Yao, who is briefly confused. He never asked Caihong to research edible plants for him, the only information he's been waiting on is on the brainwashing drug that Wen Ruohan used on Wanyin. The one he just got information on from the emperor himself.
Caihong casts a sidelong glance at Xianbian, still engrossed in whatever it is he's reading. Maybe there is information on the drug in this book? Or perhaps another manuscript is hidden inside.
"Thank you, Caihong," Meng Yao finally says as he accepts the hefty book. It's actually… much lighter than he thought it would be. Is it hollow? A box of some kind?
Caihong gives him a beatific smile, and sweeps back to the table to return to whatever it was he was doing.
Retreating to a secluded corner of the library with Xichen in tow and Daiyu a few steps behind, Meng Yao opens the book. It is a box, actually, very cleverly fashioned to look like a book. Inside is a scroll, written in familiar handwriting. Meng Yao can replicate Wen Ruohan's penmanship just as easily as anyone else's, he picked it up during the early days of his time in the Fire Palace.
Wen Ruohan wrote this, he tells his husband.
Xichen lifts the scroll with careful fingers and unrolls it.
The contents are a brief synopsis of the effects of an experimental drug. It restates everything Wen Ruohan said to him about the drug earlier, but elaborates on a few points.
The subject is only in the highly suggestible state for ten minutes, Meng Yao observes. That matches up with what Wanyin said.
It needs four to ten days in the body to be fully effective, Xichen adds. So the fact that we purged it from Wanyin so quickly is good.
The effects are less intense but still existent without use of the talisman, Meng Yao continues.
Outside of their secluded alcove, there's a loud smacking sound, like a hand on a table.
"Ah ha!" Luo Xianbian crows.
"What did you find, Bian-ge?" Caihong asks.
"It's a Lan spell!" There's a great rustling of paper.
"Oh no," Xichen whispers under his breath.
"A Lan spell?" Caihong repeats. "Wait, show me what you've found."
He's trying to buy them time. Caihong may only vaguely know that this was Meng Yao's doing, but he's still helping. Of course he is. Meng Yao sends a brief prayer of thanks to the heavens for his friend's quick mind.
Could he kill Luo Xianbian before he can bring this information to the emperor? Physically yes, the loremaster has his back to them and is engrossed in explaining his findings to Caihong. Luo Xianbian's sword is at his hip, but Meng Yao is confident he could have Hensheng wrapped around his neck before his fingers even twitched. The only witnesses would be Caihong, Xichen, and Daiyu, all people he can trust.
And then what? Someone would have to take the fall for the loremaster's death. And the convenient scapegoat of Xue Yang has already been used. Meng Yao refuses to throw any of his allies to the wolves. Anyone he would be willing to blame, like Chu Bingwen or Wen Tieyun, are also out of the question because he cannot account for their whereabouts right now. They could be with Wen Ruohan himself. If he accuses someone with too strong an alibi, that's probably the end.
"I must go report this," Luo Xianbian says, and Meng Yao's heart jumps into his mouth.
Just knowing that the spell is Lan in origin doesn't mean it will implicate anyone. He has no idea how common the spell is, but Wen Qing is known to be studious and with plenty of access to the Wen library. He can work the angle that she both acted and discovered it on her own. It will be fine.
Luo Xianbian sweeps past them out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Caihong, the only other person in the library, drifts over to them.
"Was this something you had a hand in, my prince?" Caihong whispers, hands folded placidly into his sleeves.
Meng Yao nods, trying to shake the feeling of dread. He has a plan, a good and solid plan.
"I tried to stall him for as long as I could," Caihong adds.
"Your efforts are appreciated," Xichen says, his smile slightly strained.
It will be alright, Meng Yao writes. He'll just think Wen Qing found it in one of her books.
Xichen grasps his arm. It is not in any published works as far as I know, he responds.
Trying his best to be soothing, Meng Yao strokes the back of his hand. Xianbian found it in a book here, didn't he? And if that doesn't fly with the emperor, then, well, she learned the array during her time at the Gusu lectures. It will be fine.
He still doesn't look convinced.
"Thank you for your time, Caihong," Meng Yao says to his friend. "And for finding the book I needed."
Caihong bows. "It was no trouble, my prince. It was helpful, I hope?"
"Very." Meng Yao passes the book box back to him, the scroll still hidden safely inside. It's unlikely that they are being watched or spied on, not here or now. But Meng Yao is still loath to take any risks. One slip up is all it will take to see them all dead, or worse.
He sighs. "Well, I think we ought to head back to our rooms, A-Huan. There is little else we can do now."
Xichen squeezes his arm again. He still feels unsettled, and a bit buzzy.
"Some sleep may do you good, lord consort," Caihong puts in. Xichen's distress is so obvious even the librarian is picking up on it.
They were woken by the fake Jin Zixuan's request to self-destruct at just after four in the morning, and it's been three hours since then. Meng Yao could certainly go for a few hours of rest, but Xichen is still holding to the Lan sleeping schedule as best he can.
His husband runs a hand through his own unbound hair, an obvious indicator of stress that seems so out of place on A-Huan's perpetually calm face. "Yes," he huffs in a loud breath. "I think some sleep would be helpful."
Meng Yao walks him back to their rooms, as they quietly murmur to each other.
"If you would prefer to stay awake, I'll stay up with you," Meng Yao promises. "I don't want you to feel like you have to discard your sleep schedule."
Xichen shakes his head. "There is no reason for me to keep to it. It has done nothing but make me lose rest since…" another sigh, this one softer and more forlorn. "Since always."
"Alright," he agrees. There's no need to change, since they've both been in their sleeping clothes for hours.
They tuck into bed together, and Meng Yao wraps his arms and legs around his husband, crawling right up onto his chest to lay on top of him. That always seems to settle Xichen, being pressed into the mattress by Meng Yao's weight.
"I love you," Xichen murmurs sleepily into his hair. His hands are tracing up and down Meng Yao's ribcage.
"I love you too," Meng Yao breathes into the quiet space he's made for himself underneath Xichen's jaw.
Sleep is quick in coming, in the comfortable warmth and safety, the background noise of A-Huan's breathing and his chest rising and falling. It makes Meng Yao think of being on a boat, the soft, easy rocking.
He wakes to the frantic shouting of Daiyu in their matrix.
My prince, the emperor is assembling the army!
"The army?" He says, and then remembers that Daiyu can't hear him. That isn't how the matrix works. The army?
Under him, Xichen stirs. "A-Yao," he murmurs, soft eyes fluttering open. "Army?"
Why is he assembling the army? Meng Yao wakes up enough to ask.
He is sending them to Gusu! To search for whoever taught Wen Qing the array for the fake!
Hot-cold dread shoots up his spine and settles in his teeth, making his breath catch. Sending the whole army to Gusu, really? That seems like an overreaction, one Meng Yao didn't see coming.
"A-Yao?" Xichen asks again, more awake. He's partially propped up under him, rubbing at his eyes with the back of one hand. Xichen is always adorable when he first wakes up, and Meng Yao gets to see that so rarely he's briefly stunned by the image.
He has to tell Xichen. He doesn't have another choice, he doesn't hide things from him. Not from his husband. Even though knowing that Gusu is in danger will break his heart and stress him beyond belief. He'll think of a way to get Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji and anyone else Xichen cares about spared. He can take Lan Wangji as a concubine, tell his father he changed his mind. Maybe convince him to let him have Lan Qiren as a servant as well. He can say he likes the idea of making the Lan grandmaster serve him and his husband.
Thank you, he tells Daiyu. Then he turns to Xichen. "Wen Ruohan is sending the army to Gusu."
Xichen goes completely rigid.
"I have a plan to save the grandmaster and your brother," Meng Yao says quickly.
His husband throws the blankets off and stands up, grabbing a ribbon from the nightstand and pulling up his hair into a tail.
Meng Yao grabs his arm. "A-Huan? What are you doing?"
"I can't let him do this," he says, and pulls a robe on over his sleeping garb. "I'm sorry, A-Yao."
Taking two fistfuls of his robe, Meng Yao tugs. "I told you I have a plan! I'll take your brother as a concubine, and the grandmaster as a servant. They'll be okay, we'll make it work."
"And the rest of Gusu will burn," Xichen says with conviction. He grabs his shoes, slipping them on.
"We can't save everyone," Meng Yao reminds him. What the hell is he going to do? "If you have another plan, tell me!" He tugs. "We are a team, A-Huan, please let me help you."
Sighing, Xichen turns and presses a kiss to Meng Yao's cheek. "You can help me by keeping me alive," he says. "I love you. And I trust you. I can't let him destroy Gusu."
He walks through the sitting room with Meng Yao trailing him like an anxious shadow, pulling on his sleeves. "A-Huan, talk to me!" His heart thuds. What on earth is he planning? Why won't he speak plainly?!
Chapter 35: A-Huan, he'll kill you!
Notes:
CW: emetophobia (one single offhanded mention), discussion of torture and mutilation (not unusual for this series but I would say this particular instance is more intense than any others), panic attack and WRH's usual crappy method of dealing with it, noncon non sexual touching/manhandling
Chapter Text
Xichen can be extremely fast when he wants to be.
"A-Huan, wait!" Meng Yao tugs at his husband's sleeve. Where are you going?
He has an awful, sinking feeling that he knows. He wants to be wrong. He prays he is wrong.
He is sending people to Cloud Recess, to look for a culprit who is here in Nightless City.
His heart drops. A-Huan, he'll kill you!
He won't. Not if you ask him not to.
Xichen throws open the door to the throne room. Up on the dais, Wen Ruohan is sitting with Xiao Xingchen on his lap. The blindfolded concubine is kissing the emperor's neck.
"Your excellency," A-Huan says, speaking over the man, probably a farmer, who was in the middle of explaining something to the emperor.
A-Huan, what the hell are you doing!?
Go along with me, A-Yao. Please. I can't let him attack my home. I have to protect my family.
Meng Yao nearly falls over. They disowned you, A-Huan! They abandoned you!
He bows. He goes all the way down to his knees and then into a full kowtow.
They did. But I have neither disowned nor abandoned them.
"Your excellency does not need to send people to Cloud Recess. It was me."
Meng Yao can't keep the shock and horror off his face.
Wen Ruohan slowly stands up, half-dropping Xiao Xingchen on the floor. "I'm not entirely convinced I believe you, Huan'er. I know you would say anything to protect the Lan, even now."
Still on the ground, A-Huan reaches into his sleeve. He pulls out several sheafs of paper. Meng Yao's jaw drops when he recognizes the papers that Xichen wrote on so long ago, when he first taught him the duplication array.
"I taught Wen Qing and her brother the array," he says calmly. "There is no one in Cloud Recess who needs to be punished. No one in Cloud Recess was even around Wen Qing long enough to teach her something so complex."
Meng Yao's heart rate is through the roof. "A-Huan," he whispers, the words falling out of his mouth and shattering on the floor.
Wen Ruohan kneels down next to him and grabs a handful of Xichen's hair. "Look at your husband," he snaps, and spins him around to face Meng Yao. "You've made him cry."
Meng Yao touches his cheek. He is crying. When did that start?
"He didn't know anything about this, your excellency," Xichen says. "He gives me a lot of leeway, he--"
Wen Ruohan slaps him.
Fury roars in Meng Yao's ears, almost drowning out the realization that he's used less than half of the strength of his arm. Meng Yao has seen him slap Chifeng-zun. Saw him slap Wanyin not that long ago. The blows send people reeling, moves them several feet, causes potentially bone breaking collisions with walls or furniture or people, and this slap only turns Xichen's head harshly to the side.
It doesn't ease the mindless anger.
He hit A-Huan.
He hit A-Huan's face.
It doesn't matter how gently.
"That much is obvious," Wen Ruohan snaps. "I am far more upset about your betrayal of my son than I am about your betrayal of me. You have a gentle heart and you want to help others, even the family who disowned you. It is part of your noble charm, certainly, but can't you see that whatever you do reflects on Yao'er?"
"I'm sorry--"
Another slap, with the back of his hand this time.
Meng Yao is muzzily grateful somewhere down inside, where he's still nine and knows well to fear the brothel madam's rings, that Wen Ruohan scarcely wears any jewelry, but that's all crushed under paralyzing heatcoldheatfury surging through his spine up into his gums, spilling from his teeth like venom. He even tastes it as the sight of a bruise blooming on his husband's cheek turns his heart into a flaming stone and his lungs into shrieking birds.
"Apologize to my son."
Xichen is quivering. "I'm sorry, A-Yao," he whimpers. In the array, he writes I am sorry. I'm sorry I moved so fast, I'm sorry I didn't talk to you, I'm sorry... I have to protect my family, even if they no longer recognize me.
Meng Yao bites his lip. He physically can't stop his tears or his shaking and that only compounds the problem, trying to think, to move, to do any of the things that usually come so easy to him. Speaking. Lying. Manipulating.
Maybe he doesn't need any of that. Maybe he should just decapitate Wen Ruohan where he stands for laying a single finger on Xichen. If only he could move.
A-Yao?
His beloved told him that Meng Yao could help by keeping him alive. It's not a plan, it isn't steps lain out in a way he can follow without a second thought. But it's something. A direction. A colorful stone on the path instead of a signpost. It's all he has to lead him now.
Meng Yao wets his lips. When his voice comes out rusty and shaking, he makes no effort to steady it. He's been flayed open and he can't hide it, and when he can't hide a weakness he has no choice but to fold it and hammer it and refine it into another strength.
"Apologize properly." Call me by my courtesy name and my title. That will appease him a bit. And if he hits you again, I can't promise to contain myself.
"I am so sorry, Your Majesty," Xichen goes on. "Huoyao, my love, my husband. I abused your trust and I hurt you."
Wen Ruohan softens just a fraction. He still looks furious, but less like he will eviscerate Xichen on the spot. Less like he will hit him again and finish Meng Yao's transformation into a dying star that has every intention of taking the entire Fire Palace straight to hell along with him.
"Father, I…" Meng Yao allows his voice to break and wipes at his tears. His whole body is shaking, and next to Wen Ruohan he feels small for the first time in so long. "Are you going to punish him harshly?"
Standing up, Wen Ruohan gives a long, angry sigh. He flexes his fingers, working out some kind of tension left over from hitting Xichen. "I would like to. He stole from me, and worse, he hurt you, and that is unforgivable. But how can I be strict enough with him, when I know whatever I do to him will hurt you even worse?" He crosses to stand next to him, and helps in wiping away tears. "He must be punished, Yao'er," he says gently. "But for your sake, I will go easy on him. He is still yours, will always be yours."
Meng Yao gulps. He presses into Wen Ruohan's hand, even though he'd rather strike like a snake and see how many finger bones he can break in a single bite. "Would you allow me to do it, a-die?" He asks in a brittle, dry voice.
A thoughtful look clouds his eyes. "Most of it, yes. I do not see why not. But I have a few stipulations."
This is good, Xichen writes. If it's you, I can get through anything.
Meng Yao tries to wrestle himself under control, and fails. He's crying freely again. "What-- what stipulations, a-die?"
Wen Ruohan uses his sleeve to clean Huoyao's cheek. "One, he will stay in the dungeon with his cultivation sealed until his punishment, and you will not visit him. I know that will be hard on you, my son, so we will make it soon. Two, he will be punished at a public banquet. Three, though I know you adore him, you will not be gentle, you will reaffirm your control and your ownership. And four, you will allow me a few personal touches."
Agree, Xichen writes. We are not going to get a better offer.
Meng Yao needs to blow his nose. Or sob. Both, actually. But his pride can't suffer a blow like that, not now. "What kind of personal touches?" He whispers.
Wen Ruohan rubs both his shoulders gently. "No one else will fuck him, or have him in a sexual way. He is yours. I merely have something small planned that will enhance his punishment."
"I accept, your excellency," Xichen says from behind them.
"This isn't yours to accept," Huoyao snaps.
Wen Ruohan strokes his hair, an obvious attempt to calm him. It just reminds him how that hand slapped A-Huan's face. "The quickest I can get a banquet together is three days. I would like the Lan to be there, and I will insist on their attendance."
Xichen shudders. For the first time he looks slightly afraid.
"Is that really necessary?" Meng Yao whispers.
"Yes." He wipes another tear. "I could lend you A-Cheng to keep you company while he is in the dungeon, so you won't be alone. Would you like that?"
Agree, Xichen writes. That will get him out of the dungeon. And it is three days of freedom for him.
Meng Yao cannot stop crying and it's really starting to bother him. "Yes," he croaks. "I-- please go easy on him in the dungeon, a-die, please--"
Wen Ruohan kisses his head. "I will, my son. I promise. No lasting damage. Nothing a cultivator of his strength can't handle."
Meng Yao's knees go weak. Xichen will be beaten. There's nothing he can do, no way around it. And with his cultivation sealed, he won't be able to access the communication array. They will be completely cut off from one another.
He swallows. It does nothing to help his sore and dry throat.
"Alright, father," he says hoarsely. The words feel like fire but taste like ash.
It's like a loss of a limb when Xichen's cultivation is sealed and his spiritual energy withdraws from the communication array. It's even worse watching Xianbian and another guard march him away.
Wen Ruohan embraces him. Meng Yao is limp. The emperor lifts him in his arms and carries him up to the throne, and sits him in his lap. Meng Yao has a powerful feeling of deja-vu. Wen Ruohan used to do this, back during the war.
"Betrayal hurts," he murmurs. He's finger-combing Meng Yao's hair. "But his love and devotion to you is genuine. He will learn his lesson and never do something like this to you again, I swear to you. Zewu-jun is not a fool. And I will not let him be damaged." Meng Yao's hair is being twined in several small braids. All his joints are stiff, like a wooden puppet with it's the hinges put in too tight. "He will be whipped, but with an ordinary whip. It will heal without scarring once his cultivation is unsealed. The Wen brand I will have put over his heart will heal as well, to a faint scar."
Meng Yao freezes.
A brand?
"Father, I don't want any marks--"
"This one is not negotiable. I'm sorry, Yao'er, but he needs reminding as to who he belongs to. Who his heart belongs to. He is not a Lan, not anymore, they threw away his loyalty like trash, and though I know it pains you, he must be reminded of that. A permanent mark will work. To help him remember in the future."
Meng Yao nearly throws up, and the only reason he doesn't is because he hasn't eaten at all recently and his stomach is empty.
"Shh, my son, I know. I know. It hurts." The braids his hair had been wound into are now being finger-combed out one by one. "A-die will do the hard part for you. It's what fathers are for."
And then, he's sobbing. Hysterically. He can't stop it, it's all too much and there's nothing he can do, he's a failure, as a husband, as a friend, he's good for nothing. He's helpless and hopeless.
He's distantly aware that he's babbling something out loud, until a finger taps the center of his forehead and then
~*~
Meng Yao wakes up nearly screaming.
He's in his room, under the blankets. He's wearing his favorite sleeping robe and his hair is down.
Xichen isn't with him. He's alone. He can't stop screaming.
A few seconds later Wanyin comes bursting into the bedroom, eyes wide with fear.
"I'm alright," Meng Yao gasps, clutching his chest. "I'm okay." He hasn't been awake long enough to make the lie sound convincing.
Wanyin sits down on the edge of the bed, gingerly. Like he's hurt. He has his woodblock and paper and writing stick in his hand. Are you really alright?
Meng Yao shudders, eyes wide and fixed on his friend. He should be looking for...for something, he should be checking Wanyin. For something. For what? He's looking but he's not seeing.
Wanyin grabs his shoulder and gently shakes him.
His mouth opens and everything pours out. How Xichen heard about the men being sent to Cloud Recess to find out who taught Wen Qing the array, how he stormed into the throne room and insisted it was him, how he's going to spend the next three days in the dungeon and Meng Yao will have to punish him in front of all of Qishan, in front of his family, and Xichen is going to be branded and--
Wanyin puts a hand on his shoulder and thrusts out his paper. Zewu-jun is strong. And so are you. You both will get through this.
Meng Yao traces the characters. He's not wrong. Xichen wasn't ranked the number one young master of their generation for no reason. And Meng Yao has lived through worse. He's seen far worse done to people he loves. It hasn't broken him yet.
"Thank you, Wanyin," he says quietly. He takes a full breath and it feels good how it burns. If he's able to hurt, he's alive, and as long as he's alive he can do something to help the people who matter. "What about you? Are you hurt?"
Wanyin scratches his cheek. I was given treatment before I was allowed to come here. I have some bruises and cuts and I'm sore but everything serious is taken care of.
Meng Yao can't stop himself from looking over his friend, even though he's wrapped in a comfortably modest robe. There are no visible marks on his face or hands or feet. Besides moving a bit gingerly, he seems alright.
"Wen Ruohan said you would need to be drugged again, so I assume you were given another dose. Should I draw it out?"
Wanyin nods. His eyes look misty and far away. I was. It was mostly 'you miss your master when he's gone' and 'you're a good boy but you know you've been bad and you hate yourself when you're bad'. And more of the 'yao'er is your best friend'. He takes his writing hand to massage a cramp out with his fingers. It was very confusing at the time. I think I was also drugged with something else.
Meng Yao rubs the back of Wanyin's neck. The drug is still cycling under his fingers, and he grabs hold of it and draws it out, slowly, through Wanyin's pores. "Was your time in the dungeon painful?"
Wanyin's eyes flutter shut. Meng Yao realizes he isn't going to be writing for a while, not while the drug is being extracted. He can't completely reverse what has already been done, but keeping the drug out of his system makes it easier for him to fight it.
To be honest I don't remember most of it, he admits finally, after Meng Yao has drawn it all out of him and wiped it away with a damp cloth. Probably him not remembering is a mercy. Meng Yao will take it gratefully. Wanyin doesn't need any more trauma.
I miss the emperor when he isn't here, he writes in small characters in the corner of the overfull page. I hate missing him. I hate that I hurt when I'm not with him because I hurt when I'm with him too.
Meng Yao gently cleans off the sweat and the tiny beads of perspiration on Wanyin's forehead. "It isn't you. It's the drug. But it's not wrong of you to give in, when you have to. Minimizing your pain is something we all have to do. Conserve our strength." He grabs his hairbrush. "Mind if I brush your hair?"
Go ahead.
He brushes out Wanyin's sweaty hair until it's clean and gleaming again. Wanyin was obviously allowed to bathe before he came to Meng Yao's room, but the extraction of the drug is always uncomfortable.
I was told I would be keeping you company until Zewu-jun is released from the dungeon.
"I mostly wanted to get you out of there," he says. "But… I also don't want to be alone."
Wanyin turns around and squeezes his good shoulder. I'm here, he writes. Let me know what you need. He pauses, then writes more. Being here with you helps, for me. When ma here he stops and viciously scribbles for a moment. When Wen Ruohan isn't with me, it hurts so much, but you being here helps. It almost doesn't hurt if I don't think about it.
Meng Yao falls asleep that night curled into Wanyin's arms. He's not as tall as Xichen, or as broad as Xichen, and he doesn't smell like Xichen, and he cries because he's been mindfucked into missing Wen Ruohan, but it's enough.
Chapter 36: He'll burn them alive
Summary:
Meng Yao tries to make a plan for the upcoming punishment, and keep himself in one piece. It's harder, without Xichen next to him. But he manages it, just in time.
Notes:
Hi friends! My nonfunctional body is continuing to kick my ass, but I'm hanging in there. I am finally starting to move out of the writing slump I've been in for several months, and getting my cognitive function back after a bad reaction to a new medication threw me for one hell of a loop. Which means I am tentatively planning to speed up posting again, since I'm getting close to being completely finished with the first draft of this story. So, be ready for that! Things are going places.
Next things next, extra! Click this for a continuation of last chapter as seen by Wen Ruohan, followed by a snippet of Xichen's time in the dungeon. If you read the chapter first, you will suffer along with Meng Yao in not knowing what is happening to him until Meng Yao himself does. If you read the extra first, it will give you a bit of a spoiler on that, the choice is yours.
We've got some pretty major CWs for this chapter, some of the most intense for the main story. There's noncon body modification, Meng Yao being furious and stressed, discussion of torture, and forced exhibitionism (all the concubines as well as xichen). To skip the descriptions of the concubines, stop at "He nuzzles Wen Ruohan's neck, arms clinging to his shoulders" and start again at "The guards are going to bring you your husband now". Xichen's punishment is not particularly skippable but is also somewhat pre-negotiated and doesn't really have the same noncon themes or undertones, but is still very dark.
Chapter Text
The first day without his husband at his side is long and dull and agonizing. He mostly stays in his room, playing weiqi with Wanyin, losing due to his lack of focus, and trying to come up with a plan for the upcoming punishment.
He will have to fuck Xichen, or dominate him in some way sexually. That is what punishment means to Wen Ruohan. This would be so much easier if he could only communicate with Xichen, but his cultivation is still sealed. Meng Yao can write in the array, but A-Huan can't access it, neither to read what he writes nor to write back.
He knows what Xichen likes to do. Xichen likes to fuck him, likes Meng Yao to ride him. Meng Yao likes that too. But this is a performance, not proper sex. It's about showing off his power over his husband. He doubts either of them will get off on it at all.
He'll have to fuck Xichen's mouth. That will be showy. And Xichen likes doing that too. He even likes it when Meng Yao is a bit rough, pulling his hair and shoving his cock as deep as it can go. So, he'll sit in his throne and fuck his husband's face, but he doubts that will be enough.
He looks back into the array. I can get through anything, as long as it's you, Xichen had written. The words are mostly faded, but he thinks the outline is still there. Maybe it's just projection or wishful thinking.
Both Xichen and Meng Yao like switching. But he knows his cock isn't very impressive, and Wen Ruohan specifically mentioned that he wanted Xichen humiliated and dominated.
They've never used sex toys before, though they've talked about it. Xichen was intrigued by the idea, and said he wanted to try it sometime.
I can get through anything, as long as it's you.
At least now he knows what he's going to do. It's a plan, which is reassuring as always.
Zewu-jun loves you more than life, Wanyin tells him when Meng Yao runs the plan by him, since there is no one else he can talk to about it, and keeping silent is turning his stomach to stone. And he trusts you, and his trust is not misplaced.
They go to bed having left the room exactly once, Meng Yao curled up on Wanyin's chest.
"Thank you for staying with me," Meng Yao whispers. He doubts he could sleep alone anymore, perhaps on a good day. But this is not a good day, and having a warm, breathing body that he trusts next to him is all that keeps him from truly panicking in the middle of the night.
It's dark, and Wanyin's writing block is on the bedside table, but he hums in his chest and the resonance of it settles them both. Meng Yao falls asleep with his head under Wanyin's chin, and his hands in his hair.
When Meng Yao wakes up on the second day, there's something written in the array. It's messy, but it's word from Xichen and that's enough to make his heart hammer. He jumps onto the floor of the bedroom in his shock, making Wanyin grunt into surprised wakefulness.
I think I am drugged not the mind one but something to make me sleepy very sleepy
Am okay a bit hurt mostly confused hard to tell what's going on
They unsealed cultivation I think I am healing from something but not sure what not sure of much
You are probably asleep but don't know how long I'll be unsealed so I want to remind you I love you and I will always love you and forgive you no matter what you have to do to me because I love you A-Yao so so much and I trust you
Your A-Huan
Meng Yao's heart stutters. Why would they unseal his cultivation to let him heal? The only reason he can think of is that they hurt him much worse than intended and don't want Meng Yao to find out.
He will find out. After this is over and A-Huan is bundled up safely in his room again, he'll go right down and interrogate every single guard and discipline officer and torturer and anyone else who may have even looked at his husband, and make them tell him the truth. He'll drag it out of them by whatever means necessary and whoever hurt him will die under his hands. He doesn't care who it is. He doesn't care how many there are.
He'll burn them alive.
It takes Wanyin a full hour to get Meng Yao to calm down enough to eat breakfast, and he still goes through the entire day with a painful itch of fury under his skin. He's too nauseous to eat again that day, and too wound up to sleep. He gets up in the small hours to pace, and to let Wanyin get some actual sleep away from Meng Yao's tossing and turning.
The day of the impromptu banquet, Meng Yao spends some extra time on his appearance, like he knows his father will want. Wanyin helps him with his hair, but halfway through that Wen Ruohan himself comes in. Meng Yao knows it's him solely from Wanyin's reaction. He almost drops Meng Yao's sun guan.
"A-die," he says, rising to bow.
Wanyin throws himself on the ground by Wen Ruohan's feet, sobbing.
"Yao'er," he says, ignoring Wanyin, and greets him with that kiss on the head that Meng Yao is still so weak to, even though it's less effective than usual today. "I'm so sorry that I've had no time to visit you these past three days. Did A-Cheng take good care of you?"
"He did." Meng Yao removes a few sheets of paper from his sleeve. All the sensitive ones he burns immediately after reading, of course, but there were a few he wanted to save to show the emperor, after asking for Wanyin's permission. A way to get him back a little bit of favor. "He feels so badly for what he's done."
Wen Ruohan's eyebrows shoot up when he reads the paragraph from when they discussed how Wanyin cried himself to sleep every night, even when he was holding Meng Yao, because he missed his master so much it was agony.
"My poor lotus," he hums, finally deigning to look at him. "Have you learned your lesson?"
Wanyin nods vigorously.
Wen Ruohan kneels down and kisses him, long and deep and full on the mouth. Wanyin melts into it, the last lines of tension finally leaving him.
"I know you felt you owed Wen Qing a debt," he says, stroking through Wanyin's hair. "And your poor little heart is just so driven to righteousness. But it's alright. You're forgiven, my lotus."
His father finishes doing his hair, and gives him advice on which over robe to wear. "The bright red one," he suggests. "You look very powerful in it, my son."
Meng Yao takes his suggestion.
And then they're in the throne room. No guests have been allowed in yet, and won't be for another fifteen minutes. Wanyin is allowed to sit in the emperor's lap, which clearly has him over the moon. He nuzzles Wen Ruohan's neck, arms clinging to his shoulders.
"My lotus is feeling very cuddly today," he says, amused. He unties Wanyin's robes and puts his hands around the young man's waist. Underneath it, Meng Yao is fairly sure his friend is naked.
"Did my A-Cheng miss his master's cock?"
Wanyin nods. He's peppering the emperor's cheeks and neck with kisses.
"Here, you can have it. Not inside you yet, I didn't bring any oil. But you can warm me between your pretty thighs, boy, and maybe later I'll let you use your mouth."
Wanyin lights up. Meng Yao averts his eyes, even though there isn't much to see, Wanyin's robe covers most of it.
Nie Mingjue is carried in not long after that. He is tied very artfully into a kneeling position, and placed at the foot of the emperor's throne. A rope harness covers his chest, framing his pierced nipples and navel. The harness has his arms tied behind his back, his thighs tied to his calves. His big cock is hard, and his balls are as bound as the rest of him, but significantly tighter. A rope separates them, spreads them, and it looks painful. He isn't gagged, which is unusual. Meng Yao can count the number of times he's seen Chifeng-zun at a public event since becoming Wen Ruohan's concubine with his mouth free on one hand. One finger, actually.
Xiao Xingchen accompanies the guards who bring Nie Mingjue, walking on his own two feet. The former daozhang looks gorgeously sensual as always, in a sheer black robe with little gemstones sewn into it, a matching blindfold of white silk, and nothing else. Zhan Xingxi, one of the members of Wen Ruohan's guard, guides him with a hand on his arm.
"Hello, my star," Ruohan purrs. "You will have to sit on the ground and play with A-Jue. A-Cheng gets my lap today."
Xiao Xingchen lights up in a way that someone who was just told they would have to sit on the floor never should. "A-Cheng? He's back?"
Ruohan chuckles, deep and throaty and very pleased. "Yes, he is. Reach out and touch him, A-Cheng, let Xingxing know you're here."
Wanyin twists around and lays a hand on Xiao Xingchen's cheek. The blindfolded man turns into it, nuzzling his palm and then kissing it. "I missed you," he murmurs. Then he sits down at the foot of the throne, leaning against Wen Ruohan's legs. He touches Nie Mingjue, running his hands over that bound chest. "Jue-ge?"
He grunts. "It's me." Then he grits his teeth when Xiao Xingchen's hand goes to his bound cock. He hisses.
Xiao Xingchen strokes him, playing with the bead on the piercing. "Does it hurt, gege?"
"It is not very comfortable," he admits through clenched teeth. "Stop touching me."
Xiao Xingchen pouts. "But master told me to play with you."
Nie Mingjue sneers. "Play with something other than my cock."
"Okay, gege," he says agreeably. He reaches around Nie Mingjue's back, and judging from his yelp, Meng Yao is pretty sure Xiao Xingchen is fingering him.
Wen Ruohan tosses the Lan silencing spell at him. When did he learn that, and from where?! "That's good, my star. Keep the two of you occupied." He looks to Meng Yao. "The guards are going to bring you your husband now."
His throat goes tight. He braces himself, ready for Xichen to be marched up to him in chains, for his every step to leave a bloody footprint, for him to come in naked and broken and maybe on his hands and knees. He expects tears and trembling. He's already biting down his simmering rage, trying to keep it from absolutely immolating everything within reach.
He's infinitely relieved when Xichen walks in on his own, with Chu Bingwen on one side (Meng Yao hisses internally at that) and Shi Mingxia on the other, which soothes him. He's wearing a clean black and blue robe that Meng Yao's absolutely certain is new, because Xichen looks gorgeous in it and he would have remembered seeing it before. There are no visible injuries on him. He walks without a limp, with his hands tucked neatly behind his back as if he's just going for a stroll. His face is serene, in that way that says he is doing everything in his power to appear exactly that way. Not an excellent sign, but it is better than the tears and naked terror he feared he would see.
Meng Yao sits up straight and sheds himself like a skin. He has to be Wen Huoyao, now. The only good thing Meng Yao and Wen Huoyao have in common is their all-consuming love, need, adoration for Xichen.
"Come here, A-Huan," he says, extending a hand.
Xichen walks up the stairs. He doesn't move like a man who's recently been raped, or beaten severely. That is heartening, but he still can't be certain.
"Take off your robe," he says. "I would like to see the damage done to what's mine."
Xichen goes whiter than a sheet, his serene mask crumbling. Ah, it must be bad, then. An obvious communication, saying that Huoyao will not like what he sees. Huoyao knows the only reason Xichen would feel this uncomfortable taking his clothes off is if he is afraid of upsetting him. He wouldn't want to disrobe in public, obviously, but it wouldn't freeze his every muscle in terror unless something was very wrong.
But he has to know. He will never be anything but a searing phoenix of fury until he knows, and until those who hurt his husband have been made to suffer a thousand deaths.
"Wen Huan, you are in no position to deny your husband," Wen Ruohan barks. "Do as he says."
Xichen's hands are trembling as they go to his waist sash.
"What are you afraid of, my love?" Huoyao asks. Even standing he's much shorter than his husband, and since he is sitting down and Xichen is standing, the height difference is massive. He hopes it helps, even just a little bit.
"I… I am afraid that my husband will be angry," he says softly, never once taking his eyes from Huoyao's. "And that he will no longer think me beautiful."
A red wash of anger flows over him head to toe, wearing away everything else.
They have hurt him, then. Scarred him badly, badly enough for it to take with sealed cultivation.
He clenches his fists. Wen Ruohan promised he wouldn't let him be hurt badly. Wen Ruohan lied to him.
The emperor scoffs. "Wen Huan is being dramatic. Yao'er would think you the most beautiful human in all of heaven and earth if all your skin had been flayed off and you were shaved bald. Your beauty has not been damaged, not by what was done."
Huoyao clenches his teeth, jawbone creaking. He stands up, puts his hands over his husband's on the waist sash. "Let me see," he says, letting a bit of Meng Yao leak out.
Together they untie the sash. Xichen shrugs his shoulders and the robe falls to the floor, along with Huoyao's jaw.
His nipples are pierced. The head of his cock is pierced.
Just like Nie Mingjue, except not, because the rings in his nipples are bronze instead of gold, and aren't carved with flames. Each ring has a single bead of carved jade in the shape of the Wen sun symbol. The ring that enters through his urethra and exits through the top of his shaft above the cockhead doesn't have a bead. Compared to Nie Mingjue's, A-Huan's is facing up, instead of down.
"Stick out your tongue, Wen Huan," Wen Ruohan orders.
Xichen sticks out his tongue and Huoyao sees nothing but red for a few seconds.
There's a bronze barbell in the center of his tongue. There is a bronze barbell in the center of his tongue.
"After the banquet, you may remove the tongue and cock piercings if you don't like the way they feel, Yao'er," Wen Ruohan says. "But the nipple piercings stay. I thought you would like this more than a brand."
He does, he does, he fucking does he does he does
He's still half-blind with the need to track down the people who did this and send Hensheng slithering down their throat. Someone touched his husband. Someone put a needle through both his husband's nipples and through his tongue and through his cock and he didn't want it. Someone touched him and he didn't want it.
"They're fully healed, and ready for use. His cultivation was unsealed for a while, and he certainly heals quickly. Even quicker than A-Jue."
Huoyao knows that Xichen's cultivation was unsealed for a while. This is not even close to any of the reasons he thought it was unsealed. Better, worse, he doesn't know, maybe both.
Xichen puts his tongue back in his mouth. "My husband can hardly stand to look at me," he says softly, in a voice that breaks Huoyao's heart, eyes gone shimmery and damp.
Huoyao stands on his toes and twines his fingers into his husband's hair, and kisses him. "My husband is the most beautiful man in the world," he whispers against Xichen's mouth. "And the only one I love. Nothing could ever change that." He tucks a strand of loose hair away, behind his ear. "Kneel, and I will show you just how attracted to you I am."
His eyes sparkle again, looking enormously relieved. Xichen drops elegantly to his knees. He folds his hands in his lap and looks up at Huoyao. "This husband has hurt and betrayed his own," he says. "This husband would do anything to make up for it."
"Put your head in my lap," Huoyao says. "That's it, relax. The time will come. Until the banquet is over, you will do as I say, without hesitation or complaint. You may refer to me as 'my prince' or 'your majesty'. You may only look at me. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my prince." Obediently, Xichen settles his head into Huoyao's lap.
He gathers up his silken hair, loose and unbound, and lifts it out of the way to get a look at his back. It pools over Huoyao's lap in a spill of jet. There are no whip marks, no bruises, no signs of injury on Xichen's back. But if he was beaten before his cultivation was unsealed, obviously any marks would have healed along with the piercings.
Huoyao allows most of his hair to spill down his back again, giving him some vague sense of modesty. It's all he can give him in that regard.
Shi Daiyu slams her spear against the ground, and the first guests start to file in. Several high-ranking Wen officials, followed closely by Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji. They both freeze when they see Xichen, naked and kneeling with his head in the crown prince's lap, his body intimately adorned with bronze piercings.
They have no right to look so shocked and hurt. The Lan disowned his husband for the crime of saving their lives. Why do they care now?
Huoyao makes burning, harsh eye contact with Lan Wangji. Does the second jade know how narrowly Huoyao was able to save him from meeting the same fate as Wanyin and Nie Mingjue? Does he have any idea that if one little thing were changed, even Lan Qiren himself could be up here on the dais, well-used body on display? That all of Cloud Recess could have been slaughtered, and the prettiest ones kept alive as sex slaves?
He knows they don't. He wants to tear the heavy sun guan out of his hair and hurl it at them, as if it could bash the knowledge into their heads.
Lan Wangji breaks before he does, and looks away, the tips of his ears burning.
He's not your brother, you fucker, Huoyao thinks viciously. You abandoned the right to be so protective when you were silent while your uncle disowned him. Where's your righteousness now, Sect Leader Lan?
He's not sure if he'll be able to refrain from calling him that if the second jade addresses him directly. Though the Lan sect technically no longer exists, everyone knows that Lan Wangji has taken his brother's old position.
Chapter 37: No use wishing
Summary:
Xichen's punishment continues. It goes in directions Huoyao did not anticipate.
Notes:
Hi friends. This is the "xichen gets punished by huoyao" chapter. We've got even more of yaoyao being violently furious with the world for hurting his husband. The consent is dubious at best, but xiyao do manage a fair amount of communication. There is no torture/sadism toward Xichen, only sexual content.
As an unintended bonus that was distinctly not in my original plan for this series, I've also written an extra of this chapter from Xichen's perspective, which you can read by clicking here and get a better insight into Xichen's mind. As always, you pick the order for yourself.
There is some unavoidable plot here that makes the chapter very much unskippable. However, in the interest of protecting my readers, if you want the bare bones of this chapter and prefer to skip as much of the xiyao whump as possible, stop at "And he will have to make it clear that Xichen is his. Not Wen Ruohan's" and Ctrl+F down to "There's a loud crash and the sound of something breaking”, which will give you the tail end of the punishment and the majority of the plot related important things. Stay safe my friends. Alternatively, reading the chapter from Xichen's point of view will also soothe the hurt a bit.
Chapter Text
Once everyone is seated, Wen Ruohan claps his hands.
"All kneel to the emperor!" Mingxia shouts.
No one has to be kicked this time, not even Lan Wangji. Huoyao does a quick headcount. Besides the two Lan he knows, there are three other Lan cultivators. A small delegation from the Baling Ouyang sect is here, though their leader is not. Sect leader Yao is here, however, with several of his men. Everyone else is a member of the Wen. All in all he counts two dozen people. Not as many as he feared.
"I am certain everyone is wondering why this banquet was called, and on such short notice," Wen Ruohan says once everyone is out of their bows. "I am sure you also have noticed that my beautiful peony, Jin Zixuan, is not here with me."
Everyone's eyes are fixed on them.
"And that, as well, the impossibly lovely Wen Huan is on display for the first time." He savors the use of the Wen surname, just to remind everyone. It leaves a bad taste in Huoyao's mouth. When someone is his, he takes care of them. But it seems that his father doesn't quite share that sentiment.
Lan Qiren balls his fists and casts a challenging gaze up at the dais, but it's a poor mask for his sheer horror. Lan Wangji is glaring like he wants his eyes to pierce through Wen Ruohan's head at any moment.
"These two things are connected. You see, I was betrayed." He explains how Wen Qing and her brother helped Jin Zixuan escape and replaced him with a fake. He tells everyone about the reward for any of their capture: Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and Jin Zixuan.
"But someone else taught Wen Qing the method to create such a flawless body double. The spell is Lan in origin. Fortunately, Wen Huan confessed to teaching her the array, and thus netted himself a lighter punishment. In doing so, he also spared all of Cloud Recess from being razed to the ground as I searched for the cultivator who helped a traitor steal from the emperor. It was very kind of him, wasn't it? To protect the sect that disowned and exiled him?"
Lan Qiren is fuming. Around Lan Wangji, the air looks almost frozen.
"That is why you all are here. I must thank you for coming, and I do hope you enjoy yourselves." He gestures to Huoyao, who gathers himself.
It's time. The look his father gives him is expectant, firm. He will have to put on a good show. And he will have to make it clear that Xichen is his. Not Wen Ruohan's.
Huoyao reaches into his sleeve. He withdraws the two items he brought with him, a vial of oil and a large, heavy phallus carved out of jade. Scooting A-Huan to the side with his knees, he sets the phallus on its flat base, and the talisman there sticks it fast.
"Open yourself up," he commands, and passes the oil to Xichen.
His husband looks up at him with wide eyes. To Huoyao's simultaneous shock and relief, Xichen's cock is starting to flush. He's actually enjoying this, at least a little. He feels his own pulse point kick up.
"Good," he praises when Xichen slicks up his fingers and reaches down between his legs. "Start with two. You can handle it."
Xichen nods. "Yes, my prince."
He hates the almost imperceptible tremble of his husband's mouth and hands, the tremble he valiantly kept out of his voice. He hates how many people are looking, how many people can see A-Huan's flawless skin, his beautifully round rear end, the stretch of his hole around his own fingers.
But none of them can have him. If anyone tries, Huoyao will throw them down the stairs of the dais and cut off whatever appendages they tried to touch his husband with and make them eat it. And Wen Ruohan will applaud.
"That's it. You're so hungry for something inside you, aren't you, A-Huan?" He tilts his chin up. He doesn't want his husband to have to look. The crowd is behind him, all he can see is Huoyao's face.
"Only for you," he says breathlessly, flushed from cheeks to navel. "Only you." It's almost a whine, definitely a plea, though he can't quite sort out what for. Is he afraid he will be passed around? As if Huoyao would ever allow that to happen.
"Only me," he agrees, and hopes that's enough of an answer.
"Just you, my prince," he says again. His voice wobbles, his eyes going a bit wet. The glass-thin walls around Huoyao's restraint start to buckle under pressure, because it doesn't matter if Xichen is flushed and hard when he looks utterly terrified.
"So devoted," Huoyao muses even as Meng Yao sobs inside him. "My beautiful, devoted husband. Mine, and mine alone." He slips his thumb into Xichen's mouth. I'm here, I've got you, you don't need to talk anymore. I will take care of you.
It's enough, even if he did write in the matrix where Xichen cannot see. His husband relaxes, lips closed around his thumb. He shuts his eyes, for just a moment. When he opens them all traces of tears are gone, and he looks like himself again.
"It's a shame you have such a gentle heart, sharing your knowledge with a traitor and allowing her to steal from my father. But it's one of the things I love about you as well," Huoyao continues, hating every single word except 'love'. Because he loves everything about Xichen, including his gentle heart, including his damned willingness to throw himself on the chopping block for other's sake. "That's enough, you're ready. Put some oil on the toy, and then get in position."
Xichen's cock is hard, now. Huoyao isn't far behind him. He had worried he might not be able to get hard, seeing his husband scared and in pain. But he doesn't seem to be in pain, and his fear he seems to have mastered. Huoyao knows that having his back to their audience helps. If asked, he would say it was to give a better show, so the banquet guests could watch Xichen finger himself open to ride a thick jade toy. But it was mostly so that Huoyao could see his face, so Xichen could see Huoyao's face, and so he wouldn't have to look at all the people who were watching him debase himself. He left his hair loose around his face for the same reason, to try and block out the rest of the world, to keep him safe from it. Maybe, with his cultivation sealed, it will even muffle his hearing some.
Xichen slicks the jade toy, then positions himself with the head of it against his asshole. He looks up at Huoyao with wide eyes, pupils blown with stress and arousal. He wishes that they could both access the communication matrix, but in Xichen's current state that's impossible. And if he unseals him here, there will be questions he cannot answer.
No use wishing.
He puts a hand on his shoulder. Squeezes, gently, for a last tacit show of support. "Sit."
Xichen sits down, throwing his head back and sighing through his nose as the wide toy sinks deep inside him.
"What a pretty sight," a woman from the Ouyang titters. She flutters a silk fan. "I would expect nothing less from our crown prince."
"Fuck, he takes it so well," a Wen soldier grunts. "The first jade, with his ass full of jade. How perfect."
Huoyao grabs two handfuls of Xichen's hair, firm but gentle. He keeps the thoughts of vivisecting that Wen soldier and Ouyang woman out of his touch, bottles up how he wants to garrote them with each other's intestines and shoves it down so none of it bleeds into how he handles Xichen. "Open my robes, and take my cock out," he commands. "You'll suck me while riding as hard and fast as I say, and if you are very good, very enthusiastic with that pretty mouth and your sweet ass while I fuck them both, perhaps I'll let you come." He'll have to play it by ear. He doesn't know if Xichen even wants to come, in front of an audience like this. But he does know Xichen can come easily if he wants to, and like this he can have a bit of control. A bit of choice.
"Our crown prince is a force to be reckoned with," a young woman in Wen colors says. Her cheeks are pink.
"Of course he is," Luo Xianbian chuckles. "He can bend anybody to his whims."
"Huoyao is very capable," Tieyun agrees, sounding hardly sincere and entirely greedy. He is definitely hard in his robes. Huoyao is going to castrate him and then cut out his tongue and pour chili oil on both injuries. And then impale him on a fence post and leave him to die.
Xichen obediently opens up Huoyao's robe, extracting his cock. It's still not even close to fully hard, but the warmth of Xichen's hand is getting him there.
"Suck," he orders.
His husband swallows him down without a second wasted. Huoyao groans, burying his hands in Xichen's hair. "Now ride. I expect you to worship that cock like it's mine, squeeze it and take it deep."
Obediently he raises himself up, and Huoyao can see his thighs tensing.
"Good boy," he purrs. It feels forced and sounds fake to his own ears, but no one here except Xichen has the real thing to compare it to. They won't know. "Suckle my cockhead and grind it against your sweet spot."
Xichen's eyes roll back in his head. His cock jumps.
"Are you seeing stars yet?" He asks.
"Yes, my prince," he gasps, lips barely leaving Huoyao's cockhead long enough to speak. He hadn't meant to make him feel like he needed to talk, not when it clearly takes so much out of him.
"Do you think you could come like this, A-Huan? Just from my cock in your ass and mouth? No need to pull off, just nod for me."
Xichen shivers, but it isn't a wholly unpleasant seeming one. He nods faintly, staring up at Huoyao with hugely dilated eyes. When he looks like this, it's almost believable that he could come untouched. Whether he does or not, it doesn't truly matter. It's his decision.
"Good, because that's all you're getting. Ride it harder."
Xichen picks up the pace, rolling and grinding. His eyes fall shut, and he's only just holding Huoyao's cockhead to his lips.
"Stop."
Xichen whines, but stops.
"Ride the full length, now, while you suck me properly. Let me see what that tongue piercing feels like, hm? You're not allowed to come until I say so." He tugs Xichen's hair gently.
Then it's Huoyao's turn to have his eyes roll back. The tongue piercing feels so different, the firm ball that caps the barbell an extra point of bright pleasure in the bliss of Xichen's mouth. It's hard to think about it, though. It's hard to think much about anything.
"Clearly Wen Huan is skilled at playing more than one kind of flute," someone chuckles, someone he's fairly sure is from the Moling Su sect. It takes a long moment of deep breathing and fucking into Xichen's throat before Huoyao can think of something other than dragging the speaker to the nearest mountain and throwing them from the summit. He commits their face to memory; their tongue is next after Wen Tieyun's.
"Our crown prince has a good eye," another person adds. "Certainly for multi-talented beauties. Much like his father."
The list of people he's mutilating after this is over keeps growing.
Huoyao guides Xichen up and down his cock. "Swallow," he instructs when Xichen's nose is pressed into his stomach. "Good."
"I wish we got to see this more often," an officer in red says mournfully to his partner. "If only our crown prince had taken both twin jades as concubines, then we could have really gotten a show."
The officer's partner chuckles. "Oh, that's a nice image. Have them side-by-side riding identical jade toys, making one suck you, then the other."
Huoyao closes his eyes. It's difficult enough maintaining an erection while so furious, hopefully not looking at all those faces will make it just a bit easier. He thinks of their wedding night instead, behind his closed lids.
"I want to be close to you," Xichen had said, freshly stripped out of his wedding robes.
"I love you," Meng Yao had told him, and kissed his nose, then his chin, then his neck. "Do you want to be inside me, my love?" Meng Yao rolled his hips, pressing down against him.
His husband gasped, biting his own lip, beautiful and happy with his pleasure. "Yes!" He held tightly to Meng Yao's hips, but he knew it was hardly a fraction of the strength of his arms, the arms that so willingly held him and loved him. "But only if you want that, too."
Meng Yao had laughed a bit, because the idea that he wouldn't want Xichen's cock inside him was ridiculous, but also he had been so happy. "I want that so badly," he murmured. "You have the most beautiful cock I've ever seen, gods, I want it."
There's a loud crash and the sound of something breaking, and it yanks him violently out of his fantasy. His eyes fly open, and Huoyao sees Lan Wangji about halfway up the stairs, eyes on Huoyao, sword out and pointed at him. Right as he opens his eyes, he watches Shi Daiyu and Wen Songgen both leap to stop him.
There is a screech and a crunch, and then Lan Wangji pulls Bichen out of Songgen's chest. He gurgles and falls, tumbling down the stairs in a mess of blood. Daiyu, in a moment of clear panic, tackles Lan Wangji around the waist and they both roll after him.
"Wangji!" Xichen cries, looking over his shoulder.
Xianbian, Daiyu, Shuili, and Longwei are all wrestling with Lan Wangji. The butt of Daiyu's spear smashes into his side, and he gasps and drops Bichen. Longwei puts his foot over the blade of the sword.
"Give it up," he says. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be." His finger taps the center of his forehead, and the glimmer of cultivation around him vanishes. It's sealed.
Ting Guozhen, the healer who replaced Wen Qing, stands up from where she was kneeling by Songgen. "He is dead, your excellency." She puts her hands on Lan Wangji next, who gives her a glare that could freeze fire.
"Do not touch me."
Ting Guozhen ignores him. "Minor bruising and a broken rib. Should heal just fine."
Wen Ruohan stands up, shifting Wanyin to the side and closing his robes. "Even Hanguang-jun has his limits, I suppose," he muses. Then he glances sharply in their direction. "No one told you to stop, Wen Huan."
Huoyao gasps as he's suddenly plunged back into his husband's warm mouth. He's sucking frantically, hands trembling.
"Slow down," Huoyao murmurs, hands genting his pace. "I don't want to come just yet." He's starting to go soft, and when he looks down Xichen is already there as well.
"Such a brazen attempt on my son's life," Wen Ruohan sneers. "Does Huan'er not seem willing enough, Lan Zhan?"
A rock drops into the pit of Meng Yao's stomach. Fuck.
"Your excellency," Lan Qiren says, rushing up to stand next to where Lan Wangji finally has been wrestled to the floor. "My nephew is young and easily excitable, and cares deeply for his brother." He drops to his knees. "I beg you for leniency."
Wen Ruohan raises an eyebrow. "Brother? Wen Huan was disowned, grandmaster Lan. He is a stranger to you and to your nephew. Why all this fuss for someone you personally exiled and stripped of the Lan name?"
Huoyao decides he's going to fake an orgasm. He's mostly soft in Xichen's mouth, and he needs to get this under control.
He laces both his fingers behind his husband's head. "Swallow, swallow it all," he husks, shoving in as deep as he can manage. Obviously there's nothing for Xichen to swallow, but he must have picked up on his plans, because he closes his eyes and starts working his throat, loud and wet, as if there's come pouring into his mouth.
"Good boy," he gasps, maybe a bit theatrically, but it seems to work. "Sit still for me now, A-Huan, and wait. I'll be back." He tucks his soft cock away and closes his robes. As an afterthought, he picks up the outer robe that Xichen discarded earlier and drapes it over his husband's back, hiding him from view.
Wen Ruohan is standing halfway down the stairs, looking over Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji.
"I regret casting him out," Lan Qiren is saying. "I was a willfully ignorant fool, and I acted in direct opposition to what I know and believe. Lan Huan will always be my nephew, and I will always love him. He will always be welcome in Cloud Recess."
Huoyao scoffs. Something dark and mean is crawling up his throat, even as another part of him rejoices at the words. "Grandmaster Lan," he says silkily, coming to stand at his father's side. "It's a bit late for that, don't you think? Several months too late. Everything my husband did was to protect you, to protect Cloud Recess, and you spat on his sacrifices and threw him out like a sack of filth. When we married, he had no ancestors to bow to. He didn't even have a surname. So I gave him my own." He sinks down to a crouch, still several feet higher up than Lan Qiren, but close enough that they're nearly face-to-face. "And now, you wish to reclaim him? I'm terribly sorry, Grandmaster, but that is not possible." He stands back up and bows to his father. "But I would ask for Lan Wangji to be pardoned, on the behalf of my husband. Despite the terrible mistreatment he has suffered from the Lan, A-Huan still cares very deeply for them. He has been punished enough."
Wen Ruohan frowns thoughtfully. "I think this is the first time I will have to say no to you, my son."
Huoyao's blood freezes.
"For one, he has killed a member of my personal guard. He will have to answer for that, of course. And, more importantly, he tried to kill you, Yao'er. If Lan Wangji had come for my head with his sword, and you asked for me to pardon him, I would grant it. But you have never learned to value your own life, my son. Someone could successfully assassinate you and you would rise from the dead to ask for them to be spared if you thought it was what your beloved would want." He gives a wry smile. "But Wen Huan's punishment is nearly over. Just one more thing."
He turns around and walks back up to the dais. He stands in front of Xichen, still kneeling with the jade toy inside him to the hilt, his over robe wrapped haphazardly over his shoulders. He's drawn it shut in the front, enough to mostly cover himself.
The next few movements are so fast he has trouble following them. Wen Ruohan pinches Xichen's nose shut, uses it to wrench his head up, thumbs his lips apart, and pours something over his teeth. Xichen's jaw unclenches as he coughs, but the emperor clamps a hand over his mouth.
"Swallow," he says darkly.
Huoyao is frozen. His knees are trembling. Wen Ruohan just poured some of the mindshaping drug into Xichen's mouth.
Xichen just swallowed some of it.
He's going to lose him.
Wen Ruohan grabs Xichen's chin with two fingers and tips it up to look into his eyes. "Wen Huan. You love your husband so very much, and you will never, ever do anything like this again, nothing that will hurt him."
Xichen nods. "I love my husband so very much, and I will never, ever do anything like this again, I will never do anything to hurt him."
Then Wen Ruohan produces two lumps of cotton and shoves them both into Xichen's ears.
"Take him back to your room, Yao'er," he says. "The drug will wear off in about ten minutes."
Chapter 38: He finds every little parasitic, invasive molecule in his husband's body and he forces it out with whips and knives and bloody teeth
Summary:
Part three of Xichen's punishment. Xichen and Huoyao flee the throne room.
Notes:
I've got a big update for everyone, to make up for totally vanishing all October. Whoops.
You wanna know what's happening in the throne room after xiyao left? Check out chapter one of Forget, and brace yourself. Unfortunately Lan Wangji can't avoid Wen Ruohan forever. As usual, this extra is not essential to the main story, and is only supplemental. Take care of yourself first, dear reader.
Big thank you to Sappho for helping me iron out the wrinkles in this chapter. I couldn't have done it without you 💜
Chapter Text
Huoyao grabs his husband by the hand, and takes off. He doesn't go back for Xichen's clothes, or the jade toy, or anything. The over robe is all that comes with them, and as they run down the hall it slips off and falls to the ground. Neither of them have any intention of stopping or going back for it.
He slams the door to their rooms shut behind them. He runs to the wardrobe and grabs one of Xichen's over robes, and hurls it at his husband.
Xichen catches it, and puts it on. He sits down on the couch, and folds his hands in his lap. He doesn't touch the cotton in his ears.
"Come here, A-Yao," he says softly.
Huoyao feels like he was yanked across the room by a string tied around his soul. He stands in front of Xichen, who reaches out to put his hands on his waist. He's tugged down, down, to straddle Xichen's lap.
"Put your hands on my shoulders."
Huoyao doesn't move. He can't, something is broken inside him and his body no longer obeys.
And somehow Xichen seems to understand that. He takes both of Huoyao's wrists in his hands and raises them, slips them under his robe to put his palms against Xichen's bare shoulders.
"Breathe," he says. "Feel the cycling of blood and life under your hands. Can you feel it?"
He nods. He can. He can feel it, it's tainted, marred by the drug. He can feel it and it makes him see red, to feel how Xichen's been violated.
"Feel where I end, feel where anything that is foreign begins. Can you feel it?"
He nods.
"Peel them apart, A-Yao. You can do it." His hands give Huoyao's wrists a comforting squeeze. "Just like you do with Wanyin."
It takes so little effort. He finds every little parasitic, invasive molecule in his husband's body and he forces it out with whips and knives and bloody teeth.
"Very good," Xichen hums. "You're doing so well, A-Yao."
Beads of sweat make Huoyao's hands slick, but he keeps them in place. He chases it all out, he closes his eyes, there is nothing he has that isn't bent entirely on his task. Every drop, every atom, every scrap of whatever he finds that isn't Xichen he snarls at and slices to pieces.
"Almost done," Xichen hums, and his thumbs stroke gently over the underside of Huoyao's wrists.
The cycling of Xichen's body around him is clearing up. It's almost entirely Xichen now, only Xichen, nothing and no one but Xichen.
"It's gone," his husband whispers into his hair. "It's all gone, my love. Come back to me."
Meng Yao's entire body collapses. He falls against Xichen limply, shaking hard enough to rattle the couch and both their skeletons.
"I'm alright," Xichen says, and kisses his hair, his forehead, his cheeks. "The drug was in me for less than five minutes, and I was only given one command. A command that was already written into my soul with no outside influence. We both know that isn't enough to hurt me. I'm going to take the cotton out of my ears, alright? It's itchy."
Meng Yao laughs hoarsely. "You've had enough cotton in your ears to last a lifetime, A-Huan."
Xichen's answering laugh settles his trembling, the buzz of it matching the frequency and then drawing it down until it no longer exists.
At last he raises his head. Meng Yao clings to Xichen's neck, clings to the pulses of life and strength he feels there.
"How badly were you beaten?"
To his utter shock, Xichen gives a derisive snort. "Thirty lashes. With a child's whip, and by the hand of an apprentice discipline officer barely old enough to call himself a man. I hardly felt it. I've had bug bites that hurt worse." He kisses Meng Yao's cheek. "Then I was given something that had me half asleep and blurred my focus. It was hard to tell what exactly was going on at the time, and I believe I might've slept through some of it, but I think I have put the major pieces together now." He wets his lips, and Huoyao abruptly wonders if he was well fed and given clean water while down there. If he had a place to sleep that was at least tolerable.
"Three people performed the piercings," his husband picks up, unaware of the questions Meng Yao can't figure out how to voice. "Then my cultivation was unsealed, and I was left alone until this morning. The drug kept me mostly incoherent while my cultivation was unsealed, but I was not touched or beaten or even spoken to during that time. I think it was left that way for around a quarter of the day, before it was sealed again. After that I was left alone until shortly before the banquet. I was brought new clothes and told I would be returned to you soon."
A shaky breath of relief runs from Meng Yao's head to his toes. "Thank the gods," he murmurs. He nuzzles the pulse point in Xichen's neck and listens to his heart, still alive and beating. "I'll unseal you. One moment." He sits up enough to drop a kiss on his husband's forehead, between his eyebrows, and strip away the lock that keeps him weakened. The surge of homestrengthsafetyA-Huanhusbandlove that envelops him when Xichen's cultivation returns with force jolts tears of joyful relief from his eyes.
"It's alright," he hums. His arms wrap tightly around Meng Yao's waist. "We are both alright."
Meng Yao brushes a thumb over his cheek. "Were you given food and water? And blankets?"
"I was given food and water twice a day," he says quickly. Meng Yao doesn't miss the little evasion about blankets and he feels his chest start to burn as images of Xichen sleeping on the stone floor of the dungeon run through his mind. His cultivation sealed, drugged into unconsciousness, and just left there to freeze.
"I am alright," he says softly, tightening his grip on Meng Yao's waist. "We are both alright, we are both here. You don't have to get so furious, my love. I'm safe. It was nothing I couldn't handle. I slept in worse places during the war, believe me. Breathe with me."
He obeys, at first because it's just the path of least resistance and then quickly because the long, slow breaths are soothing him. Of course they are, Xichen knows exactly how to calm him. He both needs and wants to be calm. Meng Yao tucks his head under Xichen's chin and breathes in time with him. Five counts in, five counts out. Five counts in, five counts out. Five times, eight times, eleven, twenty two...
"Better," Meng Yao says once he loses track of the exhalations and realizes he's too tired to try and figure out the correct number based on the amount of times they've inhaled. "Thank you."
Xichen kisses him, soft and light. "Thank you," he murmurs in return. "And, I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For everything I just put you through." He shifts a bit. "It was...it was not so difficult for me, I think, at least in concept. If it weren't for..." He trails off, ears going a bit red, but his cheeks turning white.
Meng Yao squeezes his shoulders. "If not for what?"
Xichen closes his eyes. "If not for the Lan, and if not for our inability to communicate, and if not for how upset I knew you were, I think I could have enjoyed such a thing very much."
Meng Yao nods, filing this information away, out of the category of things he suspects and into the category of things he's had confirmed. "I guessed."
Xichen looks down. "I'm sorry," he says again.
"Don't apologize," Meng Yao says a bit sharply. "I could only get through it, knowing, seeing that you enjoyed it. At least a little. Knowing that I wasn't hurting you made it easier for me to do what I had to."
Xichen squeezes his hand and finally looks up. "I don't want to do it again," he murmurs. "I might enjoy the theory, but that you don't like it takes all the enjoyment away. I want you and your comfort a thousand times more."
Meng Yao's heart flutters. He isn't sure what to say, how to convey how deeply touched he is. He's always known that Xichen cares about his comfort and happiness, during sex and at all other times, incredibly deeply. Every time his husband demonstrates that, it leaves him feeling wobbly and light and at least a dozen other things he can't figure out how to explain. He still doesn't know what to say, so he kisses him instead.
"Should we take the piercings out?" Meng Yao asks a moment later, into the quiet space between them.
Xichen sighs. "Do you hate them?"
"I hate that they were done to you without your permission." Heat sears inside him again.
Xichen's hands smooth down his back. "It was not…" he pauses, briefly biting his lip and searching for words. "It was my idea. They wanted to carve your courtesy name into my chest with an enchanted knife, to make sure it scarred, instead of branding me. Tieyun was going to do it."
Meng Yao's empty stomach gives a violent lurch. Tieyun, with a weapon, laying hands on Xichen, laying that weapon on Xichen--
"I would not have minded that so much." Xichen smoothly cuts his mental tirade off, squeezing him gently again. A soft reminder to stay here, and not get lost in the furious wildfires going in his head. "It was better than a Wen sect brand by all measures. But I knew you would hate it, and hate knowing that he was the one who did it just as much. So I suggested the piercings." He smiles ruefully. "It was very much a last-ditch attempt to divert them. I implied that you were intrigued by Nie Mingjue's piercings, and apparently Wen Ruohan liked the idea. I was drugged while still under the impression I would have your courtesy name carved into me, and I didn't figure out what they had done instead until the drug wore off. But to me, this was the least offensive option."
Meng Yao swallows. The knowledge that Xichen had preferred this outcome over the other options is reassuring. And it is less invasive, less permanent. Even if Wen Ruohan has forbidden the removal of the nipple piercings, he'll have no ability to forbid anything from the grave. And this, this is something he can absolutely kill over.
"The tongue piercing did feel amazing while you were sucking me," he admits quietly.
Xichen wraps both his hands around Meng Yao's head and pulls him down into a kiss. The tongue piercing feels strange, but not unpleasant, the tang of metal enhancing the taste of his mouth. It clacks gently against his teeth.
"Please," Meng Yao whispers against his mouth. "Remind me you're still here, you're still you…" he gulps. Usually he's so good at words, why are they failing him now? They're rushing by too fast and it takes so long to catch the right ones.
Xichen kisses his forehead, then his cheek, then the tip of his nose and then the other cheek. "I'm unhurt," he says firmly, "both in mind and in body. You did so well, A-Yao, getting us through that. Tell me what you need from me now, love."
Meng Yao's throat feels dry as sand. He swallows past the lump. "I felt so alone while you were gone," he admits. "Wanyin was with me and I was grateful, truly, and he kept me from completely falling apart, but..." Hot tears sting Meng Yao's eyes. "You're my only constant, A-Huan. I wouldn't survive losing you."
"I'm not lost," Xichen says. Something's happened in his eyes that Meng Yao recognizes with a part of him that's never been reflected in Xichen before. He looks intense and intent on making his words the only reality there is. It's never occurred to Meng Yao until now that the same burning ferocity that lived in him to make this world what he and husband needed could exist in Xichen as well. "And I will do everything in my power to never be lost to you. I couldn't go on alone either."
Meng Yao clings to him desperately. He's always known it was mutual, that Xichen loved him in return just as much, but to see that familiar depth of fire and determination in him casts a new light on everything. "I won't leave you." His jaw creaks. "Ever."
Xichen picks him up, hands cupping his ass. "I know," he murmurs as he stands. "You'll protect me, always. And I will protect you."
Meng Yao wraps his legs around his husband's waist, fingers twining into his hair. They kiss all the way to the bedroom, and Xichen lays him down on his back and tugs the sun guan out of his hair.
"A-Huan," he gasps as Xichen kisses down his neck. "Fuck…"
A quiet chime runs through his head, and he freezes. The noise is unfamiliar. He can't place it, but he knows he didn't imagine it, didn't make it up, so what the hell--
Someone is watching us, Xichen writes in the array. He does so without pausing in kissing Meng Yao's neck. It's a spell of seeing. Strong. It just popped right through the wards.
Now Meng Yao remembers. That's the alarm he set up to indicate that someone is spying into his private chambers, that something has either found a way around or punched directly through the many wards protecting these rooms.
Almost certainly my father, Meng Yao responds after a dazed moment. He's never tried to spy on us before.
Xichen drops a gentle kiss on his lips. His eyes are dark and serious. We both knew he probably would eventually.
Meng Yao raises his leg up to hitch it around Xichen's waist. Should we give him a show, like we planned? Are you alright with that, after everything that just happened?
His husband sighs against his mouth. I am very, very alright with that. Are you?
Meng Yao pulls his hips down. Now that we can talk, absolutely. All I want is to be able to know what you're thinking, and if you're alright, and if we need to stop.
Now Xichen grins, and Meng Yao can feel it. Wen Ruohan should never have doubted my devotion to you.
Xichen shucks off his robe and tosses it on the floor. They both start on Meng Yao's many layers, his outer robe and then his middle layer and then his shirt. The bright Wen colors are tossed as carelessly away as Xichen's black robe and left to languish on the floor.
"I've got you, my love," Xichen hums between kisses to his collarbone. "What do you want from me, A-Yao? How shall I love you tonight?" I just want to be inside you, he adds in the matrix. I missed you, I love you so much.
"Fuck me," he purrs, pressing his heel into the small of Xichen's back. I missed you too, I love you so much. Would you like to use your mouth, or your fingers first?
Xichen shivers a bit, the kind Meng Yao knows is entirely from pleasure. Mouth.
"You are so good for me, A-Huan," Meng Yao says out loud, both for the benefit of their distant audience and for the way it always makes Xichen's eyes sparkle. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "I'll even let you open me up with your tongue."
Xichen groans, thrilled and pleased even though he knew it was coming. "Thank you, A-Yao." Would you be on top? I would like that.
Meng Yao flips them over. He straddles Xichen's waist, and loosens the ties of his trousers. "My husband has such a hungry mouth. And it's all mine, isn't it?"
Xichen nods. His jaw is slightly slack. "All for you."
Meng Yao slides his trousers off one leg, then the other, and they finally join the rest of the clothes on the floor.
Meng Yao trails his fingertips over the piercing on his left nipple, gently. He hasn't touched them until now. The metal is warm, and the skin feels healthy and healed. Xichen arches up into the touch.
Do they hurt? He asks in their matrix. Should I avoid touching them?
They don't hurt, Xichen tells him immediately. I am not sure if I like them being touched or not, yet. Keep doing it and I will tell you when I figure it out?
Meng Yao smiles, nodding. They're a new development, it is fair that Xichen will need some time to decide how he feels about them. "Mine," he husks, and bends down to kiss him again.
"Yours," Xichen promises. "All of me, every inch." His hands curl on Meng Yao's hips. "My hair is yours to pull. My eyes want only to look on you, my love."
"Is that right?" He hums, thumbing his husband's jaw. You like being mine, A-Huan?
Xichen nods, pupils dilated hugely. "My mouth is yours to kiss, to fuck or ride, my lips and tongue exist to bring you pleasure. A-Yao." His cheeks are flushed pink, but he's smiling. "This husband yearns for his own every second."
You can't possibly yearn for me more than I yearn for you, Meng Yao tosses into the matrix. I'm yours as deeply as you're mine, love.
Mine, Xichen agrees. My husband, who loves me and defends me so well.
Meng Yao kisses his chest, tongue prodding a nipple. His hands trace up and down Xichen's muscular arms. "You're so strong," he murmurs. And he doesn't just mean in body. "So powerful."
Whatever strength I have is nothing next to your brilliance, Xichen writes. You always find us a way forward, you're so clever.
Meng Yao kisses him. Not just in body, I mean. The strength of your heart, the powerful way you love...it reminds me that there must be good in this world, for you to love it so much.
Blue cultivation shimmers around Xichen's hands, warming them to knead the tension in Meng Yao's back. He's smiling, crooked and a little devious. "The strength of my arms exists to hold you, to carry you. The strength of my legs exists to please you, to fuck you deeper, longer, better. All my cultivation and my magic and power is yours to command, to protect your life and safety and happiness, to slaughter your enemies."
Lightheaded in the best way possible, Meng Yao presses his forehead into Xichen's neck. If I'm brilliant, he begins, it's to protect you and your interests. If I'm clever, it's to keep your enemies off balance and far away, never knowing they've been beaten.
You are clever and brilliant, Xichen writes as his hands pull their hips together. And anyone who has that brilliance on their side is the luckiest one can be in this world. I know I am.
Meng Yao moans, and grinds his hips down. "I love you."
Xichen is smiling, hands massaging his back. Can I keep going? There's still more I want to say.
More, really? Is he planning to write an entire treatise on how he loves him? Go ahead.
"My sword exists to defend you, and my music exists to soothe you. My fingers exist to worship every inch of you, to massage your hands and brush your hair and pleasure your body. My cock exists only to fill you and warm you. My core exists to dual cultivate with yours. And my heart exists to love you."
It's almost too much to parse through. More than Meng Yao deserves, certainly. But could anyone ever be good enough to deserve Xichen in his entirety? Not even a heavenly spirit could match up to this. Maybe it isn't a matter of deserving, then. And if it isn't, that must make it a matter of choice.
And Xichen has chosen him. Meng Yao.
I love you, he writes, the words tiny and inadequate and still the sum of everything he is.
I love you too. Xichen's smile takes on a slightly wicked curve. Come touch me, A-Yao. I need you. Let me taste you.
Meng Yao shifts up a bit, moving to straddle Xichen's chest, then his neck, then his head. "So good for me. You may take your reward, A-Huan."
Xichen's big hands, still warm and tingly with magic, spread his ass and pull him down. His tongue is hot, the piercing hotter, and the little growl he lets out before he plunges into Meng Yao's body is borderline feral.
"Oh fuck," he groans. They've done this before, several times, but Xichen has never started out with this much fervor. "You must have been starving down there in the dungeon, my love, you're so hungry for me…"
"Always," he says in a voice that could almost be a snarl if it wasn't suffused with adoration. He tugs Meng Yao down again, back to his lips and tongue. Sit, my love. Let me worship you, he writes in the array.
Meng Yao's eyes pop open and his knees tremble, and he allows his husband to pull him down, to take almost all of his weight.
"A-Hu… fuck, A-Huan, that's good," he pants. "Give me a finger."
One long finger slips in beside Xichen's tongue. It's slick and warm, and Meng Yao is so relaxed and aroused it easily presses in.
Is this good? He writes.
Yes, so good, Xichen writes back. I'll tell you if I have to breathe or need a moment. Fuck me.
"Good," he gasps. "That's it, you're so good, let me feel that piercing…"
It's not a show, not like it was back in the throne room. He's aware they're being watched, but it's distantly enough he can ignore it. He can even get off on it a bit now, now that he can talk with Xichen in the communication matrix. Or at least get off on knowing that Xichen gets off on it.
"Mine," he growls, grinding his hips down. He lifts up a bit a moment after, just long enough to let Xichen take a breath.
"Your--" his earnest response is cut off by Meng Yao dropping back down onto his face.
Yes! Xichen writes in the array.
Can I be a bit mean?
Please.
Meng Yao wriggles his hips a bit. "No talking, your tongue is occupied right now."
You can be meaner than that, A-Yao, Xichen writes, and punctuates it with a sharp stab of his tongue and his fingers into his sweet spot.
"Gods, you were made for this," he growls. "I should just do away with my throne, hm? Your gorgeous mouth is all I need."
Xichen moans so loudly it shakes through Meng Yao's body. He has three fingers inside him now, he's not entirely sure when that happened, but he's glad for it.
Meng Yao lifts his hips up and away. Xichen gives a bereft little whine. His face is flushed, lips wet and red.
Meng Yao hushes him. "I want your cock, love." He kisses his husband's shiny lips, licking away the taste of sweat and flower oil. "You've been good, and you'll keep being good for me, hm?"
Xichen nods. "Yes," he gasps.
"Then flip me over on my back and fuck me," he commands. "Let me feel your strength bent on my pleasure. Give me everything."
The room spins for a brief moment, and then Meng Yao is looking up at the ceiling, then his husband's gorgeous face. He tosses both of Meng Yao's legs over his shoulders, and shoves inside him in a long, hot, glorious slide of skin on skin. He drags him down into a kiss with his legs, ankles crossed behind Xichen's head.
They kiss like they've lost their minds, and maybe they have. But Meng Yao doesn't care, and Xichen clearly doesn't either, nibbling on his lower lip and then plunging his tongue nearly down Meng Yao's throat in time with a viciously deep thrust of his cock.
"Yes," he manages. "Yes, yes, yes, A-Huan, love you, yes…."
"A-Yao," Xichen growls, and kisses his ankle. "Fuck, love you, love you so much, make you feel good…"
Meng Yao comes with a particularly good thrust that hits his sweet spot dead on, shouting and clinging to Xichen's hair.
"A-Yao," he gasps, face pressed into Meng Yao's ankle. "Please, please, A-Yao please, can I?"
Meng Yao snatches a handful of his hair. "Come for me," he pants, "I told you to give me everything."
Xichen nearly screams as he obeys, eyes closed, clinging to his husband like a lifeline. The wash of warmth inside him is heavenly, sweet, all he's ever wanted.
"Mine," Meng Yao sighs happily.
"Yours, yours, all yours," Xichen babbles, face pressed into his neck, as he keeps coming, and coming, and coming. "Yours, A-Yao, this one is for you, for you…"
As they both catch their breath, Meng Yao realizes that the spying spell is gone.
"When did it leave?" He asks, stroking Xichen's hair idly.
His husband lets his legs down from his shoulders, big hands massaging the tension out of them. "I'm not sure," he admits, voice a bit hoarse.
Meng Yao nuzzles Xichen's neck. "I guess it was a good enough show. It certainly was for me."
"It was for me, too," A-Huan murmurs. "I think I'm going to sleep well tonight."
They lay together for a while and bask in the afterglow.
"I need to go back," Meng Yao says. He hates to shatter the afterglow but he has to, they can't hide in this blissful bubble forever. "Either tonight or tomorrow. I need to save your brother."
His eyes go sad and big. "Can he..." He trails off, then shakes his head firmly. "I know better than to doubt you, A-Yao. If it's possible to save him then you will do it."
Meng Yao squeezes his hands, feeling that hot blaze in his stomach start to spark again. "And if it isn't possible I will make it possible," he nearly hisses. Even if Lan Wangji no longers claims Xichen, Xichen still claims Lan Wangji. And that means Lan Wangji will be safe. Meng Yao will make sure of it.
Chapter 39: Lan Wangji will likely never forgive him for what he is about to do
Summary:
When his husband asks for a dance, Wen Huoyao will always oblige.
Notes:
Big October update part two! I decided not to leave you guys hanging for too long about how things go with poor Wangji.
This chapter has a lot of discussion of dark and awful things, ranging from rape and sexual assault, forced incest, torture, basically all the things that Wen Ruohan likes. However, none of that will actually happen. There is also an extra of this from Wen Ruohan's point of view, which can be read here as chapter three of Forget.
Also, yes, I know that posture collars and corsets were not a thing in this area or time, but work with me a little, mmkay?
Chapter Text
Wen Huoyao walks with a purpose. He has a plan, a smaller plan within his large plan.
You can do this, A-Huan writes in the matrix. I know you can. My Huoyao can do anything.
Yes, he can do anything, especially if his husband asks for it. Even something like this. But he can't do it as Meng Yao. Meng Yao would sob at the knowledge of what he is about to do, so Huoyao folds him up neatly and sits him in one of the quiet corners of his mind to perseverate on happier things.
It's what A-Huan wants. It's what A-Huan needs. He needs to speak with Lan Wangji, somewhere safe where they can talk freely, desperately.
So Huoyao will get that for him. It's as simple as that.
He walks calmly, head tilted up. This is his palace. This is his home. He is a prince.
Lan Wangji will likely never forgive him for what he is about to do. That's alright. He's never much cared for the stoic young man anyway. He walks into this with A-Huan's full blessing, and that is all he needs to let himself be monstrous.
Whatever you need to say, A-Yao. Tell your father you like how much he looks like me. Tell him that I want to see the brother who was silent while I was disowned be raped by my husband. Tell him I want him lashed by you for trying to take your life before my eyes. Tell him I want to rape Wangji myself. I do not care what you have to say or do to get me time alone with my brother.
He knows that Wen Ruohan is parading Lan Wangji around the Fire Palace today, because Caihong told him. His friend saw them go past the library and rushed to tell Meng Yao himself, which was what sparked this entire thing. Caihong also brought a rarity in Nightless City: truly good news. While Lan Wangji was being added officially to the harem, he will be sent back late tomorrow with the rest of the Lan to Gusu as the live-in concubine there for when the emperor visits. Wen Ruohan does not have much interest in travelling, and especially not to Gusu. Caihong also mentioned something about Lan Qiren and a qi deviation, which is both unsurprising and unimportant right now. The Lan grandmaster is still alive, and will be sent home with his nephew. Right now, all Huoyao's focus is on finding a way to send that nephew home in a better state than he was when he came here.
Huoyao isn't a fool. He knows that last night, while he and Xichen were basking in their reunion, the emperor was almost certainly putting Lan Wangji through hell. They can't turn time back and make it not have happened. But now he and his husband are back together, and they will be damned if they can't keep what happened last night from happening again. Ever.
I need him in on the plan. I need him to know. And if we can keep him in our rooms for a while, that will minimize his time with Wen Ruohan before he leaves. Tomorrow is booked full of meetings, he won't have time to torment Wangji.
Huoyao has a surprisingly easy time finding them. They practically throw themselves at him, actually, in the front hall of the palace, nearly a full collision. Huoyao steps back and rights himself, cataloging his audience. Wen Ruohan, of course. Four guards made up of Wen Fuhe, Cai Shuili, Chu Bingwen, and Wen Tieyun, what a perfectly awful combination. And Lan Wangji.
Lan Wangji looks like a seasoned pleasure slave. His mouth is forced open by one of those cruel ring gags that the emperor so adores, but this one is different. This one has four long prongs that extend from his mouth. The end result looks almost like there's a metal spider crawling out of his mouth, with only half its legs emerged. He's naked, except for an odd purple corset done around his neck. It's laced up the back and lays flat against his skin. The boning in the corset--collar?-- keeps him from looking down, or even turning his head much. It keeps his chin tipped up, face forward. There's a ring attached to the leather, and both his hands are cuffed to it with only a few centimeters of slack. Wen Ruohan holds the other end of the golden chain that also attaches to the odd collar-corset. Huoyao thinks he may know what it is, he's read about it, but he's never seen one before.
Wen Ruohan smiles in greeting. "Good afternoon, my son."
Huoyao bows. He allows a small smile, a sharp and angry thing, to show itself. The first bit of groundwork. "Father. Good afternoon."
Slowly he draws his eyes up as he straightens, from Lan Wangji's feet to his face. He files away every detail carefully, finding that there truly are more similarities than differences between A-Huan and this man.
"Pretty," he allows himself to drawl.
He can only manage this because of Lan Wangji's striking similarity to his husband. He doubts he could feign genuine attraction to anyone else. He has no idea exactly how much attraction he will have to feign before he is allowed to take Lan Wangji back to his rooms unsupervised, but he will do it. He'll go as far as he has to. He's an excellent performer, and his husband has requested a dance. One with no holds barred.
"Much more similar to my A-Huan than I thought," he continues. "The neck corset is beautiful, father."
Predictably, Wen Ruohan smiles and takes this chance to teach with open arms. "It's called a posture collar, my son. It has the lovely effect of keeping this proud head held high." He yanks on the chain leash, and Lan Wangji chokes. "It doesn't choke unless you tug on it, or if he tries to look down or turn his head."
"Fascinating," he murmurs, stepping closer. He folds his hands behind his back.
"I'm glad you think so, my son."
Huoyao turns to face him fully. He breathes in, just once, enough to fortify himself without seeming like he's fortifying himself, but obviously enough that Wen Ruohan will pick up on slight nerves. "I was wondering if I could perhaps borrow A-Zhan for a little while. Perhaps the rest of the day." He dips his head, letting himself blush. He knows how to act ashamed of attraction. "Truth be told… after seeing him like this, I want to try him for myself."
There is a short beat of silence, during which Huoyao quietly chastises his past self for being so faithful to A-Huan, and his body for apparently wanting no one else.
Ruohan rocks on his toes. "You've never shown interest in anyone beyond your husband before, Yao'er," he finally says.
Huoyao looks up. Ruohan doesn't look suspicious, or upset, just mildly curious.
He'll have to prove himself, then. Prove his desire and demonstrate his cruelty. Sate Wen Ruohan's curiosity.
His hand doesn't shake as he reaches out.
Lan Wangji's chest rises and falls slightly faster as Huoyao traces a finger up and down his sternum.
"He's nearly identical," he says, and he's surprised that somehow, honest desire spills out of his mouth. He can do this. He can pretend, just for a little bit, that this is A-Huan, and that they're playing some kind of bizarre bedroom game, one they've discussed and negotiated prior to now at length, and draw lust into his voice. He can do this. "Perhaps I should have just taken him as a concubine in the beginning after all."
Huoyao has no idea if that would have changed anything. He doubts it, it probably would have been worse. Lan Wangji would not have trusted him as A-Huan did, back in the beginning, and wouldn't have worked with him so easily. And Lan Wangji would have never been able to return to Gusu.
Exactly as Huoyao predicted, the emperor offers Lan Wangji to him again. "You may still have him, if you like."
No. Lan Wangji will be allowed to return to Gusu tomorrow as long as things continue on their current course. Huoyao shakes his head. "I am happy the way things are, A-die. I heard that you are allowing him to go back to Gusu tomorrow evening, and for my husband's sake I am deeply grateful for your mercy." He bows again, this time reaching for the small spark of true gratitude and relief he feels.
Wen Ruohan smiles, unbalanced and softened as ever by the use of the familiar, affectionate term. There's a very brief moment where Huoyao thinks he probably could have cut the emperor's throat, and his head would fall to the ground with that same indulgent smile on it.
Not with four of the most cruel and loyal of his guardsmen here. They'll either catch Huoyao before he can strike or kill him seconds after the emperor falls. He softly clears his throat, refocusing.
"But I have talked it over with my husband, and we would like to borrow Hanguang-jun for a day. If that is permissible to you, father," he continues. He reaches for his anger, now, allows it to trickle out of him. He has a lot of reasons to be angry with Lan Wangji. It isn't difficult. "A-Huan has a few words he would like to say to Lan Wangji while I fuck him raw." A flash of pure horror runs across Lan Wangji's eyes, and Huoyao barely stifles a surprised laugh. "About what a filial little brother he was."
Lan Wangji's entire body trembles. He whines, and with the gag in his mouth, there's nothing to stop everyone from hearing. His bright golden eyes, the only visible difference between him and A-Huan that Huoyao has been able to find so far, fill with tears.
Oh, he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand anything.
Now he reaches for his disdain, using it to cover up his anger, though not entirely. He leans into Lan Wangji's space, knowing that the tension in the leash is too taut to allow him to escape. "Oh, poor Hanguang-jun, you thought he still cared for you?" Honestly, Huoyao isn't completely certain of what is going through Hanguang-jun's head, but as he can't speak right now, whatever Huoyao says is for the benefit of Wen Ruohan only. He isn't trying to hurt Lan Wangji, whatever harm is done will be collateral damage.
That may be a lie. Perhaps he is trying to hurt him, just a bit. For a good cause, though.
He touches the posture collar, walking two fingers slowly up the smooth leather. It's tight around his throat, and the boning feels like hard steel. It's probably very uncomfortable. Once they're back in his rooms, he'll have to figure out a way to get it off him.
"You threw him out," Huoyao hisses. Every minute of lost sleep seeps into those words, every second he spent cradling A-Huan and assuring him of his worth, every single time he's seen his husband make an abortive gesture to straighten or check a headband that isn't there.
He sounds like he has murder on his mind, at least to his own ears. Huoyao abandons the notion that hurting Lan Wangji is just collateral. It's necessary, and he wouldn't do it without a reason, but he isn't being kind. He can't be kind. He doesn't want to be kind. He doesn't know what he's doing.
He leans in even more, till he can smell the difference between Lan Wangji and his husband. A-Huan smells like mint, and more recently like wood smoke as well. Lan Wangji smells like sandalwood and fear.
"You were silent while that foolish waste of air Lan Qiren ripped his heart out and stomped on it," he snarls, and he hears someone take a harsh intake of breath. Probably either Tieyun or the emperor, they are the only two here who have ever watched him torture before. The only two who have ever heard him speak in this tone of voice, and know what it means.
"And then, you had the absolute gall to come for my head with a sword over someone you voluntarily relinquished all claim on."
His hand moves almost unbidden, but not, because Huoyao knew he would have to slap Lan Wangji at least once. He prepared for this. So he does, and it makes his head turn and he chokes as the collar digs into his throat.
"My A-Huan was so loyal to you and your scum excuse for an uncle, even after you disowned him for saving your lives," he says, putting special emphasis on my, and knowing his original intuition was correct when he sees the pure agony flash like lightning across Lan Wangji's golden eyes. He knows Wen Ruohan sees it too, and he can feel how the man relishes this. He, apparently, still likes to watch him at work.
"He was so loyal," he spits, "he was the first to throw himself at the emperor's feet to beg for punishment for a crime he did not commit, in order to spare Gusu." Wen Ruohan already knows that it really wasn't Xichen who taught Wen Qing the array, there's nothing to lose by confirming it now.
Huoyao slaps him again, on the opposite cheek. This one is harder, and he chokes as the steel boning of the collar digs into him.
"And once again you rewarded his loyalty with treachery." Huoyao rubs his stinging palm against Lan Wangji's soft hair, gentling the pain away. "By trying to make him a widower. By trying to take the one person who has stood by him and loved him, unconditionally, this entire time." He pauses, letting him sit on the implications for a moment, before continuing. "By interrupting the punishment that he asked for. You thought his loyalty had no bounds?"
His palm isn't stinging anymore, so he slaps him a third time, now a backhanded slap. This time it leaves a print on his cheek.
"You were wrong."
His father puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, recapturing his attention. Internally, Huoyao dances with relief as he makes eye contact. Wen Ruohan is pleased, and intrigued. "You may have him for the rest of the day," he says, voice indulgent. "So long as you return him to me alive, you may do as you please."
I did it, he writes to A-Huan. The cost was high, but not as high as I thought.
The entire matrix is flooded by gratituderelieflovejoy
I knew you could, A-Huan writes back.
That's one of Huoyao's errands for the day taken care of. There's still plenty for him to do today, even with this behind him.
"One more thing."
Wen Ruohan cocks an eyebrow. "What is it?"
He calls up a touch of exasperation. "The next time you are going to spy into my private chambers, please give me at least an hour's advance notice. I can put on a better show that way."
The emperor looks genuinely shocked for a moment. Huoyao lets the brief frustration that his father apparently thought he wouldn't notice his private chambers being spied into go. There are much more reasonable reasons to hate Wen Ruohan.
"Though I would strongly prefer you never do it again," he finishes. He'll allow himself to try and set boundaries, just this once, and see if his father respects them or not.
Looking slightly chagrined, he leans over and kisses the top of his head, which has the usual effect of dousing Huoyao's anger almost completely. It's aggravating. "I meant to tell you, Yao'er. It was part of the Lan punishment. A-Zhan is allowed to go back to Gusu tomorrow evening with the rest of the Lan because of what he saw."
Oh.
So that was why he'd watched them. He'd put them on display to punish Lan Wangji, and presumably Lan Qiren, and whoever else had been there. Hopefully, it was just the Lan who were made to watch.
What do they think about Huoyao now? They probably think he's the worst kind of man, that he bent and twisted A-Huan with drugs and force and pain into loving him. That would explain the look of complete rage on Lan Wangji's face.
He relays this information back to A-Huan through the matrix. He's too tired to parse out how he himself feels about it. He doesn't have time for emotions right now.
I did fear that was the case. When I talk to him, though, he'll believe me.
Huoyao pulls himself back to attention. He gives Wen Ruohan a hard look, he wants the man to know this is a test.
"If there ever is a next time, I promise to warn you in advance," he finally says. He seems sincere, and he is not nearly as good an actor or liar as Huoyao.
Huoyao nods. "Thank you, a-die." He wants Wen Ruohan to feel like he's passed. For now.
He accepts the golden chain leash that his father offers to him.
"Alright. He is all yours for today. I'll come get him after dinner, if that sounds good to you."
Getting Lan Wangji back to his room is a chore. He fights, hard, making awful snarling noises through the gag and happily choking himself on the tight collar. Once they reach the third level of the palace, still a fair distance away from Huoyao's rooms, he can't take it anymore.
As much as he wants to just slam the man into the wall and give him a thorough talking-to, that will only escalate the situation.
Slowly, Huoyao removes his outer robe and places it over Lan Wangji's shoulders. He ties it around him, cocooning his bound arms.
"Please stop fighting me," he says crisply, straightening the haphazard knot that holds the robe shut, affording him a measure of dignity. Maybe he should tie the dangling sleeves together too? No, that might feel too restricting, and it probably wouldn't add much more cover than the waist tie already does anyway. "I'm taking you to your brother."
Maybe it's because he refers to Xichen as his brother, or maybe it's the robe, or maybe something else, but Lan Wangji stops giving him so much trouble after that.
Once they are inside the warded rooms, Huoyao reaches to undo the cruel gag, but he's interrupted by A-Huan launching himself at them and wrapping up Lan Wangji in a hug.
"Didi," he whimpers, trembling all over. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry for everything…"
Huoyao pops the latch on the gag and tugs it away.
"Xiongzhang," Lan Wangji says instantly in a hoarse voice.
"I didn't bring you here to hurt you, Hanguang-jun." Huoyao checks the wards. Nothing is pushing on them and none of his alerts are going off. He double checks them. Still nothing. "I couldn't speak openly until we were behind my wards and spells against eavesdropping. I hope you understand that." He gestures at his bound wrists. "If I untie your hands, will you behave?"
Lan Wangji is ignoring him. "Xiongzhang, are you hurt?"
"No, Wangji. A-Yao has protected me very well."
His eyes harden, and finally fix on Huoyao. "I will never forgive you for what you've done to my brother."
Huoyao swallows a thousand sneers of not your brother, disowned, disowned, you have no right before he calms himself with the reminder that Huoyao himself started it.
"He's done nothing to me that I didn't consent to," Xichen says, turning Lan Wangji's face back toward him.
"I know about the drug," he says sharply. His voice is winter cold, and dead as a frozen branch.
So Lan Wangji thinks that the mind altering drug was used to get him A-Huan's affection. Of course he does.
"A-Yao purged it out of me the second we were gone from Wen Ruohan's sight," Xichen says urgently. His big hands curl on Lan Wangji's shoulders. "Before last night, it was never used on me. Wangji. You remember I had an informant in Nightless City who was passing me maps and plans. You knew I had deep feelings for this person."
Slowly, glacially, Lan Wangji turns to look at Huoyao again. Despite how cold his anger is, there's a hint of something molten in his dark gold eyes. "And… it was him?"
"His birth name is Meng Yao," his husband continues, holding too tightly. "Wangji, he was the one who saved me after Cloud Recess was burnt. He was the one who wrote and sent me all those letters and maps during the war. He was with the Nie during the salute ceremony at the lectures."
Calculating golden eyes drag over him. There's a slow light of recognition. Good, he remembers seeing Huoyao at the ceremony, before the war. Thank the gods.
"He's on our side, he always has been. He struck a deal with Wen Ruohan to protect me, to protect you. I taught him the array, but it was him who cast it, it was him who smuggled Jin Zixuan out to safety. It's all him, Wangji, he's good…" Xichen sniffles and hugs him again. "I asked him to bring you to me, to do whatever it took to let me see you and speak to you here, where we're safe. And he did."
Lan Wangji blinks, slowly. "Untie my hands."
The little clips have no locks on them, so it takes Xichen only a moment to free both his hands.
Huoyao still partially expects Lan Wangji to lunge and try to kill him with his bare hands. It's reassuring that he only maneuvers his arms into the robe, which is comically small on him but covers everything particularly sensitive, and steps forward to hug Xichen properly.
"A-Yao," he says after a moment, not budging out of the embrace. "Could you unseal Wangji's cultivation?"
Huoyao startles. What does he want Lan Wangji's cultivation unsealed for? "...if he promises not to attack me. Or you."
Xichen pulls away just enough to press his forehead against his brother's. "We can see into each other's hearts easier that way. Wangji, will you believe what I tell you if A-Yao allows this?"
One tense beat of silence. Two. Three.
"Yes."
He allows himself one hand on Hensheng, just because it eases his anxiety, before he snaps his fingers and removes the cultivation lock.
The only movement Lan Wangji takes is to raise his hands to cradle his brother's jaw.
They stand like that for quite a while, the similarities between them striking. Finally, Lan Wangji makes a little hitching gasp in his throat, and throws his arms around Xichen.
Both of them sink slowly down to the floor. Xichen is stroking Lan Wangji's hair. "Shhh, I know. I know. It's alright."
"Xiongzhang," Lan Wangji says in a strangled, miserable voice.
"I know. I forgive you."
Lan Wangji doesn't cry, but he trembles faintly, and clings to Xichen, occasionally murmuring xiongzhang. Every time he does, Xichen hushes him and says he knows, and that he forgives him, and that it's alright. Huoyao suspects that he is trying to find some way to apologize about the disownment.
Finally, Lan Wangji raises his head. His eyes are slightly puffy, but it still doesn't look like he's cried.
"Your marriage is legitimate and mutually desired, then?"
Xichen nods. "Yes. This was not the ideal circumstance for it to happen, but I would have wanted to marry A-Yao no matter what happened after the war." His cheeks pink slightly.
Lan Wangji stands up. He approaches Huoyao, who cautiously widens his stance just a bit.
All he does is bow. "Thank you for looking after my brother. Through everything."
"I will always protect him," Huoyao says, fierce and honest, trying to convey how that is the point of his existence. To protect A-Huan, his husband. "I will protect him and the things he loves. Even if that which he loves throws him out the door."
Lan Wangji spins around, back to facing Xichen. "I fought with uncle. I shouted at him until my throat bled. When we got back to our rooms that night I told him he was a fool and horrible man."
Xichen blinks. "You… you fought with uncle over me?"
Lan Wangji nods. "Mm."
He smiles, small and fond. And sad. "Oh, Wangji… you shouldn't have. Were you beaten badly?"
"I have since recovered."
Well, that's concerning.
Xichen's brow furrows, he clearly thinks so too. "Wangji, what did he do to you?"
"I attacked him."
Everything briefly freezes.
Lan Wangji attacked Lan Qiren? Physically?
"Wangji," Xichen gasps, tears in his eyes again. He's kneeling still, tugging on the hem of the borrowed robe.
"He did not act justly. I was angry. I injured him, and my punishment was two strikes of the discipline whip." He clenches his fists. "You should not worry. They healed well."
Xichen throws himself at his little brother and cries into his hair again.
It takes a full two hours of crying and hugging and quiet confessions on everyone's part (ranging from how lonely Lan Wangji has been ever since returning to gusu to their complete failure to protect Nie Mingjue to the success-turned-disaster with the fake Jin Zixuan) before they can manage to even tell Lan Wangji about the plan to take down Wen Ruohan. He seems to think it's feasible, though, which is reassuring.
"Miss Jiang has the tiger seal?"
"Yes," Huoyao says. "And she can use it fairly well. Huaisang and Zixuan and Wen Qing and Qionglin are out gathering support from elsewhere. Wen Ruohan is already getting complacent in his power. And our number of allies is only increasing."
"You are going to assassinate him." It isn't a question, Lan Wangji says it like a statement.
"A-Yao has been looking for an opening for months," A-Huan puts in. "Wen Ruohan never goes anywhere without at least two of his personal guards, and his own cultivation is so powerful. He has to be struck down with one blow, there won't be time for a second."
Lan Wangji agrees with that statement, which makes Huoyao feel a bit better.
~*~
When a servant comes to bring them dinner, Meng Yao is snapped violently back into reality. Seeing A-Huan and his brother, who still claims him as a Lan so fiercely, enjoying one another's company and lounging around their rooms and talking, was enough to make him forget. His father thinks he's violently raping Wangji right now.
Meng Yao fetches the food from the servant in the hall to keep everything inside hidden. When he comes back, both Xichen and Wangji are looking at him.
"Wen Ruohan said he would want me back after dinner," Wangji says. Meng Yao took the posture collar off him after learning that he'd been wearing it since last night, to give him a break. He's spoken in soft, clipped sentences about what else happened last night, too.
Meng Yao nods, setting down the food.
"If I go back uninjured, there will be questions."
"Absolutely not," Meng Yao says. "I won't hurt you."
The brothers look at each other for a long moment, and then back to Meng Yao.
"Wangji is right," Xichen says. "And you know it. I hate it too."
He knows that. His original plan was to admit to his father that he failed, he couldn't harm a body so similar to that of his beloved. He was prepared to cry and grovel as much as he had to, to do whatever it took. But both Xichen and Wangji reject this idea.
"Please, A-Yao," Xichen murmurs, taking his hand.
"I am not weak." Lan Wangji nods at him. "Do you have any…" his ears flush. "Anything I could use to penetrate myself, to simulate being forcefully taken?"
All they have is the jade toy that's been used a grand total of once. Lan Wangji takes it without hesitation.
"You will need to reseal my cultivation."
Meng Yao does, feeling numb. He cannot do this. Meng Yao cannot do this. He doesn't want to be Huoyao again so soon, but he'll be able to do this.
He folds up Meng Yao for the second time today and places him somewhere quiet, and is Wen Huoyao. By the time Lan Wangji comes out of the bedroom, pain on his face and blood running down his legs and smeared on the jade toy, he knows he can do this. He won't enjoy it, not in the slightest, but he can do it.
"We will explain the lack of spend by saying I am only interested in coming inside my husband, and letting him come inside me," Huoyao says.
Lan Wangji nods. Stares at him, like he's noticed that something has changed. "I will also need bruises. Possibly other marks."
Huoyao rakes his nails down Wangji's chest, hard and deep enough to make the resulting gouges bleed. He tears and scrapes at the scars from the discipline whip, low on his back, till they turn red and look fresh. He stands behind him and sinks his teeth into his shoulder, shuddering at the taste of flesh in his mouth.
"I'm sorry," he says as he steps back. He's surprised to find how sincerely he means it.
Lan Wangji shrugs. The motion forces blood to trickle out of the bite on his shoulder. "We do what we must. Continue."
Even with his agreement, it's still surprisingly difficult to hit his face hard enough to blacken his eyes. Using the flat side of his hairbrush and a stick from the small courtyard outside their room to cover his back and thighs in welts is easier than using his hands, but not by much. Beating him with the jade dragon statue they were gifted at their wedding until his back and chest have enough purple-black bruises is upsetting. Lan Wangji breaks two of his own fingers and splits his lip between his teeth, which he is grateful for not having to do himself.
"Not bad," Huoyao says, looking over him. The sight twists his soul, contorting it with pure rage. It's not A-Huan, his husband is right there, fully clothed and not beaten or bleeding. But they look so similar. And seeing Lan Wangji hurt is also hurting A-Huan.
Xichen, who is barely restraining himself from wiping the blood off his brother's chin, wrings his hands. "Is it enough? I know he expects… brutality. And cruelty."
Lan Wangji tucks the robe back over his shoulders. This is an old and cheap one that used to belong to Huoyao, threadbare and in need of being thrown out anyway. The bloodstains won't be a problem.
"I have another idea."
Huoyao nods, though he wants to cringe and beg for it to be over. "Let's hear it."
Slowly, Lan Wangji raises his uninjured hand to the side of his head. "Cut my hair."
Xichen goes white. "I…"
He holds out his hand. "Give me Shuoyue and I will do it myself."
With trembling hands, Xichen gives over his sword. Wangji has no problem unsheathing her, and gathering his hair in his injured hand. He winces.
"Shall I hold your hair for you?" Huoyao offers.
Lan Wangji nods.
Huoyao gathers his hair in both hands, twisting it over one shoulder to give easier access. Lan Wangji raises the fine blade and slices cleanly through his hair, leaving the ends ragged and choppy around his jaw.
"Wangji," Xichen almost whimpers. He gathers his brother into another hug.
"We have all had to make sacrifices," Lan Wangji says solemnly. He looks so much, and sounds so much like his brother that something comes loose in Huoyao's chest to bang around inside him and leave bruises. "I can bear this one."
Xichen opens his mouth, closes it, and his eyes flick briefly to the bedroom. Huoyao wonders if he's thinking about the piercings they removed this morning, tucked into their bedside drawer. Or maybe the ones still on his chest, the ones they can't remove. Not yet.
"Thank you," Huoyao says, because it feels like the right thing to do. "I'm immeasurably glad to have you as ally, finally."
They carefully replace the collar on him. Xichen ties it very loosely, as loose as possible without making it visibly obvious.
"I spoke with Chifeng-zun last night," Wangji says. "He is concerned about you." His eyes go a bit farther away. "I would like to tell him about what you have told me today, but I fear Wen Ruohan will overhear. And that Chifeng-zun will disbelieve me."
Huoyao nods. "We did try to tell him, about Huaisang...before it happened, even, but it was all too fast. And now my father keeps him so isolated that we may never have the chance to bring him somewhere we can speak openly."
Wangji hums a little and leans back into Xichen's hands where they're massaging tension out of his shoulders. "Once this is over I will help him understand," he says firmly.
Five minutes later, there's a knock at the door, followed by Wen Ruohan's voice from the sitting room. "Yao'er?"
He's infinitely glad they did this in the bedroom. Huoyao lunges for the golden chain leash and clips it back onto the posture collar. You stay in here. I'll tell him you're asleep.
A-Huan's relief is palpable. Thank you. He gives Wangji a kiss on the forehead, and whispers something so quietly Huoyao doesn't catch it.
Lan Wangji drops the robe on the floor, leaving him naked and bloodied, nods at Huoyao, and allows himself to be drug by the neck out into the sitting room.
Wen Ruohan is there with Shuili and Fuhe. He raises an eyebrow when he sees them.
Huoyao grabs a handful of Lan Wangji's butchered hair and tosses him to the floor at the emperor's feet. "Apologies, father. I may have gotten carried away."
The man doesn't look displeased, not in the slightest. He takes in the welts, the still bleeding bite mark, the blood on his thighs, and laughs.
"You held nothing back, did you, Yao'er?"
It is so much harder to find hatred for Lan Wangji now.
But he is a good performer, and his husband asked for this dance, so he'll see it through. He will.
Huoyao kicks him in the side. Not hard enough to break ribs, just to knock the air out of him and leave another bruise. He can curl his toes under Lan Wangji's side to make it look far more vicious than it actually is, make the floor take as much of the impact as possible. "Of course not. He deserves to be treated like a criminal."
Wen Ruohan laughs again and kisses his head, that awful, sweet display of parental affection. "The short hair shows off the posture collar better. I should have thought of it myself." Them he chuckles, practically beaming with pride. "I suppose I'll have to give him tonight off, after how thorough you were."
Huoyao manages to twist the flicker of joyful relief into a pleased chuckle. "I suppose so, you wouldn't want him worn out so quickly. Reaching into his sleeve, he returns the cuffs. "Here, a-die, I assume you want these back as well."
Ruohan thanks him, and asks about A-Huan. "Did he enjoy himself as well?"
"Quite a lot, even more than I did," Huoyao informs him. It's the truth. "I think he's much more at peace with everything, now that things have been… settled, between him and A-Zhan. He's resting now. He's earned it."
"I'm glad to hear that." He gives Huoyao another head kiss. "I'll let you join him now, my son. You look tired."
He is tired. Very tired.
"Goodnight," Wen Ruohan says, ushering everyone towards the door.
Huoyao swallows. "Good night, a-die."
The instant the door closes, the one behind him opens and A-Huan has him wrapped up in his arms.
"A-Yao, come to bed," he murmurs.
He wants to go to bed. He wants to lay down and curl up with his husband. He wants to take Meng Yao out of the quiet corner of his mind, so he can be soft and gentle again. But he can't find Meng Yao. He's been Wen Huoyao for too long.
A-Huan kisses his neck. "You're alright," he murmurs. His arms are strong and warm around his waist. "It's alright."
"I'm stuck," he whispers. "Meng Yao isn't here, I can't find him… I don't know how to go back."
"That's alright," A-Huan hums. "Meng Yao is still in there. Just give it a bit of time, my love. It's been a long day."
Huoyao trembles. "I'm. It's. I'm sorry."
The room rocks, and A-Huan scoops him up into his arms, cradling him. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You're my A-Yao, both Meng Yao and Wen Huoyao are my A-Yao. I love you in all your complexities."
And then he's being thoroughly kissed, as his husband walks them toward the bedroom. A-Huan carefully strips off his clothes, takes down his hair, and lays him out on the bed.
"A-Huan," he whispers, Xichen's clothed body pressing into his bare one. "I love you."
Big, strong hands wave out the lanterns. "I love you too," he responds. "Close your eyes, Huoyao. I'll be right here, I'll hold you, husband. You did so well today. You were amazing." A gentle kiss to his jaw, and even more weight pressing him down into the plush bed. He gasps, head spinning. Warm, safe. There's no part of him that isn't covered by A-Huan's powerful body.
"Thank you, for doing this for me," he goes on, still kissing his jaw and neck and then back up to his face. "You're brilliant, perfect. My beloved A-Yao."
Tingling tremors wracked his body, bouncing back and forth in his head. "I was terribly cruel," he whispers.
"You gave me back my brother," he says firmly. "And you gave Wangji his brother back as well. You had to be cruel to make this happen, A-Yao, but you did so in order to prevent suffering." The very last bit of Xichen's weight pushes into him, down, down, holding him secure.
He can feel Meng Yao again, all of a sudden. Like this other aspect of himself was never gone.
"Sleep, A-Yao," Xichen murmurs. His voice is deep, rumbling in his chest. He sounds half asleep himself. "There will be time to think in the morning."
Chapter 40: Song Zichen, the man who accompanied the master of Baixue, is staring at Xiao Xingchen
Summary:
The emperor and his son catch up on some overdue audiences.
Chapter Text
When Lan Wangji is finally out of Qishan, Meng Yao can breathe again. It's easier to pretend to hate him when he's not here, for both him and Xichen. Not that Xichen has to do much pretending, thankfully. Everyone seems to take his reticence on the matter as a mix of sadness, anger, and a desire to move on.
They're not wrong on those counts, Xichen writes with a wry look on his face. But they are wrong about the reasons behind the emotions. Still, I am grateful no one has pushed me on the topic.
Meng Yao won't let anyone try even if they want to. He sighs and nuzzles into Xichen's neck, briefly shutting his eyes. They've been in the throne room since just after breakfast this morning, only breaking for a very brief lunch. There are so many audiences that have been put off over the chaos of the last few weeks that the emperor is only getting to now. He asked Meng Yao to be there, so he is. Xichen is playing his handsome cushion as usual, and occasionally they flirt or turn over the issues that have been brought to the emperor in the matrix. It's mind-numbingly boring and extremely anxiety inducing in turns.
The current petitioner is asking for a tax break for his farm, citing a poor harvest that is already shaping up to a rough winter.
"...and I will have just enough to feed myself and my family," the farmer continues. "I regret that I have so little to offer you, Excellency."
Wen Ruohan hums thoughtfully. "You said that more than half your fields were razed in skirmishes fueled by the rebels?"
"Yes, Your Excellency."
"Will the coming summer be enough to recover them, so next year's harvest will be more successful?"
The farmer looks startled, like he wasn't expecting to be asked a question on his area of expertise. "I believe so, Excellency. It will be a hard spring and summer, as I lost my two eldest sons to the fighting as well, and they were my best field hands, but I and my remaining family are no strangers to hard work."
Meng Yao's stomach twinges. He knows many civilians were caught in the line of fire, as is known to happen in war. He glances to his father, wondering what he will do.
Wen Ruohan's face softens, which isn't unexpected. He lost his two eldest sons too, after all. Like this, he looks gentle even with Wanyin spread across his lap. "How much of your family is left?"
Swallowing, the farmer sinks even deeper into his bow. "My eldest daughter, Anling, was injured badly trying to save our lands, but she still lives. My wife and her brother, as well as our two youngest sons and my nephew, are also well and able to continue working the fields."
"Your sons were heroes, and they shall not be forgotten," he says solemnly. "Nor shall I leave their family or their land to suffer. Keep what remains of your harvest, the city is not wanting for food. Should it not be enough to see you through the winter, return here and I will have a place made for you and your family to shelter in Nightless City until you can return to your fields."
The farmer blinks, eyes fixed blankly on the ground for a moment. Then he falls into a series of bows, forehead to the ground. "Your Excellency is just and merciful! This humble one thanks you a thousand times."
It seems no side was spared, Xichen muses. I wonder how badly the daughter was injured.
Meng Yao worries his lip. He glances at his father again, this time asking for permission to speak. He probably doesn't need to ask, but it feels essential in a public setting such as this.
Wen Ruohan nods, still smiling a soft and sad little smile.
"Your daughter," Meng Yao asks. "How was she injured?"
"She ran to free the horses from the burning barn, my prince," the farmer explains. His voice is tight. "As they fled the fire, one knocked her to the ground, and another trod on her leg above the knee, breaking it badly. I am told it is healing as well as can be expected. But I cannot afford much in the way of treatment, due to the terrible harvest."
A chill runs down Meng Yao's spine. "Perhaps we could have Healer Ting select someone to travel out to their home and see if a cultivator can do more for her?" Meng Yao asks. The injury is likely still relatively new. And he doesn't want this stranger, this Anling, to heal poorly and have it affect the rest of her life.
Wen Ruohan smiles. "My son is wise. Fuhe, see that a message is sent to Healer Ting immediately. We will, of course, provide this care with no cost. It is the least I can do for such loyal subjects."
The man frantically bows again, and again, sputtering out gratitude through tears. He praises Prince Huoyao's kindness, and thoughtfulness, and calls him a credit to his parents. When the farmer finally leaves, still wiping his eyes, a happy little glow of satisfaction settles into his stomach.
"That was very insightful," Wen Ruohan murmurs to him. "You are already showing good judgement in regards to handling our empire. Not that I expected you to be anything less than brilliant." He gives Meng Yao a blinding smile that doubles the warm glow inside him.
"I just hope there is something to be done for the injury," he responds.
Wen Ruohan reaches across the space between their thrones to pat his hand reassuringly. "The injury cannot be more than a year old, and Healer Ting will choose someone competent. I am sure the girl will make a full recovery."
Xichen kisses his hair. "I love you so much, A-Yao," he murmurs.
Down in the hall, the next group of people with an audience are making their way in. Meng Yao snuggles back into Xichen's warm arms and allows himself to just enjoy feeling good. He gets so few opportunities for it. "I love you too, A-Huan," he whispers.
Wen Ruohan chuckles. "Ah, young love. Worry not, this is the last audience of the day, and then you will be able to retire to your rooms."
Thank goodness, Meng Yao writes, even though he hasn't had too awful a time. Any chance to sit in Xichen's exceedingly comfortable lap is a blessing. And he managed to do some good today.
"Now introducing Master Ling and Song Zichen of the Baixue temple!" Mingxia announces.
Meng Yao stiffens a bit, remembering the last time he mentioned the Baixue temple. The rush of adrenaline doesn't completely wreck the happiness he was basking in, but it's still like a jolt of ice water. It's been some time, and he's had plenty of other things on his mind.
I wonder if these are people Xiao Xingchen knows.
Xichen surreptitiously glances to the larger throne. Wanyin is lounging on the emperor's lap, head tucked against his shoulder, quite possibly asleep. Seated on the floor by his feet in a neat line is Nie Mingjue, and then Xiao Xingchen.
The blindfolded man is sitting stiff and rigid. His hands are on his knees, and clenched into fists. He's shaking.
Nobody but Meng Yao and Xichen seem to notice, though. Wen Ruohan is occupied with whatever empty platitudes the master of Baixue is saying, and Nie Mingjue is still dedicated to his task of staring blankly into space rather than acknowledging anything, which he truly does hope is working for him. Wanyin is definitely asleep. Judging by the bite marks on his neck, he probably didn't get much last night.
This is a new development, one Meng Yao didn't even know to plan for until now. No, he could have known, but he wasn't paying enough attention. That's a worrying realization. And Song Zichen, the man who accompanied the master of Baixue, is staring at Xiao Xingchen. Blatantly, with no attempt to hide it.
He did have a cultivation partner, Meng Yao writes, thinking back to Xue Yang's boasts and his own words to various guards. Who was a disciple at the Baixue Temple.
Xichen's head drops back to the headrest of the throne. He briefly looks beyond exhausted. Do you think Song Zichen was his cultivation partner? Or just somebody he knew? The surnames do match up, but we don't know how Song Zichen's is written.
Meng Yao zeroes in on the man. He's still examining Xiao Xingchen very closely, his expression mostly blank. There's this faint light in his dark eyes, though. Horror and denial. The first stage of grief.
Yes, Meng Yao writes. I'm almost certain he was his partner. Or very possibly a close family member of his partner. Brother, perhaps.
Under him, Xichen heaves a heavy sigh. We should tell him what happened, he writes. At least try to give him some closure.
The fact that this is the last audience of the day, and that it's short, is a huge relief. As they're dismissed, Meng Yao beckons Shi Daiyu.
"I would like to speak with Daozhang Song in private," he says quietly as she leans in. "Pass it on to him, if you would. Thank you." In the matrix he shares with her, he writes I think he was Xiao Xingchen's cultivation partner, or at least someone close to him, and A-Huan and I want to give him some closure.
His guard inclines her head, a brief flash of concern in her eyes. Not for Song Zichen, it's aimed at him.
He raises an eyebrow. What's wrong?
I trust your judgement, she responds. The writing is slower than it normally is with her, as if she's choosing each word very carefully. But I also wonder if this is a risk worth taking for a stranger and a man who's dead in all but body. If it goes badly...
Unfortunately, she isn't wrong.
Meng Yao pauses to weigh his options. Yes, it's a risk, but a relatively small one. Just speaking with Song Zichen is not going to damage his standing with Wen Ruohan, or compromise his ability to protect Xichen and himself. He doesn't think even saying outright in front of his father that Song Zichen is Xiao Xingchen's cultivation partner would hurt his standing. And more importantly, it will make him feel less helpless. Less trapped. After those horrible days and nights away from Xichen, Meng Yao needs every scrap of power and agency he can get. And he is still riding the warmth of getting to help the daughter of the farmer, earlier. It feels like a risk that's safe enough to take. It also feels like something he has to do, to make peace with the knowledge that Meng Yao himself was the one to direct the hunting party for Xiao Xingchen to the Baixue temple in the first place.
Daiyu must see something of this before he even tries to explain, because her eyes soften and she nods. She squeezes his shoulder once, then turns to go fetch Daozhang Song.
Daiyu catches him and speaks quietly, pulling him aside. Meng Yao and Xichen say their farewells to the emperor, and then beckon Song Zichen into a side room. He follows reluctantly, only moving once Daiyu prods him. He's still looking over his shoulder at the dais until the closing door cuts the scene off completely.
"You were Xiao Xingchen's cultivation partner," Meng Yao says bluntly the second the door is closed.
Song Zichen's face contorts. "That… that was him, then. I thought I was seeing things." He looks down at his hands, brows drawn tight together. His face is a mess of deep worry lines. "I thought he was dead. He just vanished one night."
Meng Yao folds his hands and does his best to explain. Xue Yang. The drugs. The damage to his mind. His current position as a member of the emperor's harem.
Is there any chance Wen Ruohan will allow Song Zichen to take him home? Xichen asks, already sounding skeptical.
Unlikely, Meng Yao responds. Wen Ruohan seems very attached to him, and something like releasing a harem member for nothing is very different from asking for a healer to be sent to some farmers. Perhaps if Daozhang Song begs on his knees, offers monetary compensation, and a more physically attractive replacement, and I asked my father very very nicely with my biggest, saddest eyes. But that might damage his faith in me.
"Let me take him," Song Zichen says as if he's seen into their communication matrix. "If he is so badly injured, he will recover best at home."
Meng Yao grits his teeth. What can he even do, at this point? He knows full well there is no way Song Zichen will be diverted or convinced to back down. If he pushes for Xiao Xingchen's freedom, perhaps he could chalk it up to something Xichen wanted...he can't think of another way to alleviate suspicion on him.
But then, that damages his stance to the emperor that Xichen is under control. That his punishment just a week ago was enough, that he won't let himself be swayed by Xichen's soft heart.
What can he do?
"That is not my decision to make," he finally says. The ground feels like it's swaying under his feet.
Song Zichen has spent most of this conversation looking at the floor. When he looks up again, his eyes are burning and murderous.
The next few moments are a quick blur. Song Zichen barely has time to grasp the hilt of his sword before Daiyu swats it out of his hand with her spear, and then Xichen has him pinned against the wall with Shuoyue against his throat.
"Drawing a weapon in the presence of the crown prince is an imperial offense," Daiyu says plainly. She sounds somehow both bored and seethingly furious at once. There's some blood on her spear, where it cut and smashed Song Zichen's hand while she swatted his sword away.
"The last person to do so has been forcefully added to the emperor's harem," he spits fiercely. Xichen's hands on Shuoyue don't shake, and his tone is clipped ice. "The person before that has since been tortured to death. Don't put yourself in this position. There is nothing you can do for Xiao Xingchen."
Song Zichen swallows. His eyes are burning, nails digging into his palms. "That is the man I love."
Meng Yao exhales and gathers his courage, his compassion. "There is nothing left of the man you love. He may as well be dead. His mind is destroyed. He was drugged so many times that I doubt he would even recognize you. And even if you took him home, and he was seen by the best healers in all of time and space, there will be no recovery." He licks his lips and wonders if he should apologize. He probably should. He isn't sorry for choosing to save Wanyin over Xiao Xingchen, though. Song Zichen would have sacrificed anyone to save Xiao Xingchen, he feels certain.
Failing that, he probably wants revenge. Meng Yao can understand that. "Most of the damage was done by Xue Yang, who is dead now."
The daozhang's eyes flash. He lunges away from the wall, but Xichen slams him back against it. Shuoyue draws a drop of blood, and it splashes to the floor along with the blood still dripping from his hand.
"Our prince is trying to do you a kindness by telling you what happened to your cultivation partner, so you can find peace with it," Daiyu snaps. "Which is more than most get. Count yourself lucky."
Meng Yao puts a hand on her shoulder. "Let him go. Xiao Xingchen would want you to be happy and safe."
Xichen slowly withdraws Shuoyue, and Song Zichen steps away from the wall. He briefly cradles his smashed hand in the other, looking down at it. Without a word, he turns around and walks back into the throne room.
"Xingchen!"
Meng Yao pinches the bridge of his nose, caught in a strange place between exasperation and panic. Well, at least he tried.
They rush after him, just in time to watch Song Zichen run up the stairs, eyes fixated on Xiao Xingchen, still sitting on Nie Mingjue's left. Everything slows down for a moment.
The blindfolded man raises his head. "Zichen?"
There's nothing we can do, Xichen writes, hopelessness in every word.
Cai Shuili and Wen Fuhe are the first to react, out of the six guards who stand on or around the dais. Fuhe puts himself between Song Zichen and the emperor, sword partially drawn. Shuili is faster, and closer. His sword is massive, and sharp as a razor. It slices directly through Song Zichen's neck.
Ruohan looks up from Wanyin, who he seemed to have been talking to. "Hm. That was rather unexpected." He looks at Meng Yao, eyebrows raised. "What did you say to him?"
Meng Yao swallows. He can feel his heartbeat in his throbbing temples. "He was Xiao Xingchen's cultivation partner," he explains, hoping that is enough of an answer.
"Ah," he says, and then laughs. "Of course Xue Yang stole away someone already spoken for." He looks down at Song Zichen's slowly bleeding corpse. "Poor man." He waves a hand. "Someone take care of it."
"I will, my lord," Daiyu offers. She leaves Xichen's side to heave the body over her shoulder, and carry it out of the throne room.
"Zichen?" Xiao Xingchen repeats. "Did I hear Zichen's voice?"
Wen Ruohan shuffles Wanyin to the side, and goes over to pat Xiao Xingchen's head. "No, my star. Everything is fine."
He frowns. He looks deeply concerned for a few long moments, but then he relaxes. "Alright."
Are you alright?
Meng Yao takes Xichen's offered arm, mentally kicking himself. Yes. I just wish we could have done something. Or that he hadn't tried at all, now that he thinks about it. He'd let himself get carried away, trying to do too much, and for what?
We cannot save everyone, Xichen gently reminds him.That you tried to help is still admirable.
He doesn't feel admirable. He feels foolish beyond belief. What if he'd just kept his mouth shut? Would Song Zichen be alive? Meng Yao doesn't know. But he finds himself fervently wishing that he could jump backwards in time and stop himself.
And that's not even touching on how this is his fault.
A-Yao, it's not your fault, Xichen protests.
Meng Yao clenches his fists. I told Wen Ruohan's men to look for him at the Baixue temple.
To save Wanyin! Xichen's grip gets tighter. You had no choice.
He's right, it was no choice. He'd do it the same way over again.
Meng Yao takes a deep, long breath. Xichen not judging him, agreeing that saving Wanyin was the only option, lifts the guilt from his chest.
~*~
The next morning, Daiyu takes breakfast with them. She's hiding a smile as she breezes into the room.
"You seem in a good mood today," Xichen observes. It's a stark contrast to yesterday, which neither he nor his husband have truly shaken off. All morning, Meng Yao has been trying to read through a cultivation manuscript that has some interesting theories on treatments for brain damage. It's been on his to-do list since he found out that Wanyin was being drugged, but he cannot make himself absorb the information. He's reread the same page probably five times now, but he keeps getting distracted thinking about if any of the knowledge in this book could help Xiao Xingchen. Even though it feels too little and too late. And then he realizes he doesn't recall a word of what he's just read and starts the page over. Rinse and repeat.
Daiyu, however, seems entirely unphased. She laughs aloud, reminding Meng Yao that she is still a fearsome fighter and a trusted member of Wen Ruohan's inner circle as well as his friend and ally. "It's actually a more solemn occasion, and I have news that you both will want from inside the emperor's harem, but I cannot help but find at least this much a bit funny." She sets her spear down against the wall. "Last night, the emperor lent Xiao Xingchen to Wen Fuhe, as he occasionally does. It seems that hearing the voice of his cultivation partner did somehow stir something like life in Xiao Xingchen." She smirks. "He bit off a chunk of Fuhe's dick."
Meng Yao gives a shocked bark of uncomfortable laughter, while Xichen goes white.
"He'll live, apparently," Daiyu says. "Not even slightly emasculated. But Xiao Xingchen is being punished with three days of solitary confinement while they decide what to do with him."
"That sounds like it will be hard on him," Xichen murmurs. "Does he know his cultivation partner is dead?"
"I have no idea." She sighs. "You want to tell him, don't you?"
"He deserves to know," Meng Yao says. "But… maybe he shouldn't be told. Telling Song Zichen the truth got him killed."
Daiyu perks up. "Oh, about that. I gave the corpse to Miss Jiang."
Meng Yao's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm sorry?"
The guard brushes back her hair. "She and Healer Wen were discussing the merits of trying to resurrect a powerful cultivator as a fierce corpse, back when Wen Qing was still here. This was the first opportunity we've had with such a death, and I wanted to make sure I got the body to her as soon as possible."
Xichen pours them both tea. "Does she think she can restore his consciousness?"
Daiyu shrugs. "I'm not sure. I think she hopes so, at any rate. But without Wen Qing here to help, I'm unsure how far she will get in that regard." She takes a sip of tea. "Thank you, Zewu-jun."
Notes:
CW: character death
Chapter 41: He's looking right at Meng Yao
Summary:
Something strange is going on in the dungeons of Nightless City.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Meng Yao, after a brief time of finagling with his father, is going to fetch Xiao Xingchen from his confinement. Since there was no lasting damage to Fuhe, it's been decided that this punishment was enough. As long as he goes back to behaving, anyway.
That is where the problem is. If Xiao Xingchen acts up again, he will be killed. Meng Yao won't be able to save him. Which means he needs this chance to evaluate him, and see if much of his mind is returned. Beyond that, there are things he has to say to do something about the knot of guilt still in his chest.
It may all be entirely futile, though. Will Xiao Xingchen even understand when Meng Yao tries to tell him what happened four days ago? Or will knowing that Song Zichen died just break him even more?
Meng Yao feels he perhaps should have learned his lesson in regards to telling people difficult truths when it led to Song Zichen's death.
But if he were Song Zichen, he would've wanted to know. If he were Xiao Xingchen, he would want to know. He hates being kept in the dark. Xichen agrees with him, that he would feel the same if he were in either position. His husband almost came with him, but that would require him to cancel his music class today. He loves teaching the children so much, and Meng Yao loves hearing about it. It's a speck of hope and a much needed point of normalcy. Daiyu didn't come with him either, as today is her one day off that she shares with her sister. They don't get to spend nearly enough time together. Meng Yao is beyond loathe to disturb either of them, any of them. They should get to enjoy one easy day out of the dozens and dozens of stressful ones.
So he has a plan. He has not needed to lay his steps out so plainly for himself since the early days after the war ended, but the soothing routine is the only reason he can do this, especially alone.
- He needs to speak with Xiao Xingchen and assess his mental state. If he seems lucid and aware, proceed to step two, if not, proceed to step three.
- If he is lucid and has fought off the effects of his brain shaping, Meng Yao will sit him down for a talk. If they can think of a way to get him free, all the better, but it seems unlikely. Failing this, it would probably be more merciful to just kill him instead of making him return to the harem. He will have to see what Xiao Xingchen wants.
- If he is not lucid and has returned to the way he was before Song Zichen's visit, Meng Yao will have to weigh how much he wants to tell him. Even if he is not lucid he still deserves to know, but he will have to go back to the harem. It won't be as difficult if he's still dazed.
The quiet is still a bit eerie, now that there are no more prisoners of war. Most domestic criminals are simply executed. The barred cells stretch on down the corridors, empty and silent. There are almost no guards either, they've been moved to the next floor up.
Xiao Xingchen's solitary confinement cell is on the very bottom level of the dungeon. He was kept in one of the few cells that have a solid door, cutting it off completely from the rest of the dungeon. Not that long ago, this was Nie Mingjue's cell. It's a cruel punishment for anyone, especially since Xiao Xingchen apparently does not do well alone. Wen Ruohan did it on purpose, certainly.
Meng Yao unlocks the cell door, and pushes it open. He is braced to be jumped at, for Xiao Xingchen to be out of his mind with loneliness. What hits him instead is not what he expected: a sharp slap of iron and acid. He recoils on instinct before horrified curiosity moves him forward again.
Was he sent to the wrong cell? No, he couldn't have been. As far as he knows there is no one down here being tortured, no explanation for the amount of blood he can smell.
Inside, the cell is a mess.
A huge red circle is smeared on the ground, with characters and sentences written clumsily and then partially wiped into illegible nonsense. Most of the blood is completely dry, but the thick smell and taste of it seems to be seeping from the walls.
Did Xiao Xingchen commit suicide? Is this what his broken mind spat out in its death throes?
No, he's standing right there, standing by the wash basin and his blindfold is gone and he's looking right at Meng Yao.
"Who are you?" There's an alertness to his face and his soft dark eyes that feels eerie.
Meng Yao worries at his lip. Judging from the amount of blood, he's fairly certain Xiao Xingchen did attempt suicide. There's blood clumped on his robes, too. He's probably bleeding out as they speak. That would explain his confusion, and even the lack of blindfold.
He's dying. Fuck.
"Who are you?" He asks again, snapping him back to attention.
"It's me, Huoyao," he says, approaching carefully with his hands out. Can he save him? Is it right to even try to save him, if this is what Xiao Xingchen wants? Maybe he remembers what happened in the throne room, and can't find it in him to go on.
"Do you want to die?" He asks, unable to stop himself.
Xiao Xingchen blinks at him, eyes gone flat and uncomprehending and deeply confused. Maybe he's a bit clearer than usual, but definitely still addled. That answers that question, at least. If he isn't in his right mind enough to know if he wants to live or die, Meng Yao will have to try and save him. That's all there is to it. It's what Xichen would do, what he'd want Meng Yao to do.
"You have your blindfold off," he points out gently, still slowly approaching. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Xiao Xingchen says curtly. His posture is defensive, and only gets more so the closer he comes.
Meng Yao almost laughs. He doesn't want to scare him, though, and Xiao Xingchen is so emotionally delicate. Especially right now, but he is so obviously not alright that the denial is funny. "You're injured." He takes another step forward, until he is close enough to reach him with his qi. Snapping his fingers, Meng Yao unseals the man's cultivation. Hopefully that will let whatever life-threatening wounds he's given himself with his nails and teeth, or perhaps a sharp stone, start healing. It's his best chance, and it's not like he knows what to do with his own power in such an addled state. Meng Yao keeps advancing, until he can put his hands on Xiao Xingchen's arms and gently stimulate his golden core.
"There," he says, smoothing down his shoulders with his palms. "I can only leave you like this for a little while, alright?"
Xiao Xingchen frowns, confused and pensive. Another expression that's far too lively, too focused.
Then, Meng Yao feels something rustle in his sleeve.
Zidian flies right out and into Xiao Xingchen's hands, and the long violet whip extends and that's not possible, only Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli can wield Zidian--
He has Hensheng half out of his sleeve by the time the whip wraps around his neck.
Pain, blinding electric pain, and tightness, he can't breathe, his legs won't hold him up. Hensheng falls from his hand and clatters to the floor.
Xiao Xingchen tosses him on the ground and pins down his arms. "Just close your eyes, your majesty," he whispers, eyes sparkling with intensity.
Notes:
Oopsie
Chapter 42: Interlude 2: and he sees nothing
Summary:
It's time to wake up.
Notes:
CW: blood and injury, traumatic removal of piercings, character death, emetophobia, and possibly some light body horror pertaining to being dead
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian!
The void is dark. The void is quiet. He likes the void, because nobody here needs him or has demands or comparisons or insults.
Wei Wuxian!
So why the fuck is some echo-y asshole incessantly calling his name!?
Wei WUXIAN!!
And then, a rush of sensation. Pain-not-pain. Pleasure and agony.
Existence. Life? Is that what life is?
WEI WUXIAN!
Breath fills his lungs. He doesn't have lungs. Do ghosts have lungs? Hmmm, ghost lungs, now that's a concept.
Somewhere in front of him, there's a presence.
Wei Wuxian,
it says, and it sounds relieved.
My name is --
Here the voice cuts off into a garbled mess, layered voices going over and over each other. There is screaming. There is crying. There are other sounds he knows he must be identifying wrong with his ghost ears. He sees words with the ghost eyes that go with his ghost lungs, but the characters are smeared so terribly that he can just barely make out one of them. And he might still be reading it wrong.
晓. Xiao.
I have used a spell of yours that I saw in your old texts,
the presence goes on.
There were a lot of half-cooked spells in Wei Wuxian's old texts. But only one of them pertained to dead spirits. The body offering ritual.
Well. Fuck.
He really should've done something to make this whole experience less echo-y.
I am a concubine of the emperor.
There's an emperor? That's news to him. It must have been a while.
Terrible things have been done to me. My mind is so broken I cannot possibly recount it all. I hardly even know my own name.
Apparently he had enough of a memory to manage this ritual, though.
I heard my beloved's voice, and it woke me from my stupor, just enough. I do not know how long I was near-catatonic as the emperor's sex slave. I do not know very much. I only know what I want you to do for me.
One, find my cultivation partner and make sure he knows what happened to me. His name is Song Zichen. He is a good man, and he would want to know. Tell him I love him.
Two, free the other concubines. None of us are here by choice. I do not remember where they are from, all I know is what the emperor calls them. The first two are A-Jue and A-Cheng. There is another concubine who does not live in the palace, he is stationed elsewhere for when the emperor visits. His name is A-Zhan, and I want him freed as well.
The hairs on the back of a neck and arms that Wei Wuxian doesn't have stand up. A-Cheng. A-Zhan.
It can't possibly be Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan. There's no way. Xiao isn't showing him images anymore, just speaking, so the characters are probably different. Zhan and Cheng are both fairly common names. No, his shidi and his zhiji have obviously both cultivated to immortality and since moved to greener pastures. Hopefully they went south, he's heard the climate is nice.
Three, by whatever means necessary, kill the emperor and see his position taken over by his only son. His name is Wen Huoyao.
Wei Wuxian flinches. Okay. Wen. Well, that doesn't mean the ruling family is the same Wens, right? Not all Wen are Qishan Wen.
The crown prince presents himself as harsh, but truly he is a kind man. He helped me orient myself when I first arrived here and he had no reason to help me. He is the only one who cares about the health and comfort of the emperor's concubines. He has been good to me, and to A-Cheng, who is the closest thing I have to a friend here.
I am sorry that I have pulled you from the grave and into hell on earth.
Wei Wuxian opens his definitely-not ghost eyes, and he sees nothing. There's something tied over his face. He grabs it and tears it away.
The room beyond is very bright, and for a moment he sees just blinding whiteness. It calms down quickly, though.
Upon first inspection, he seems to be in a dungeon. A very proper one with cold rock walls and no furniture. Not ideal, but at least he's alone. On the other hand, the cell is covered in blood, walls, ceiling, and floor. It's not the most blood he's seen outside of a person at once, but it's probably in the top five.
He looks down at his body. Well, the body he's been forced into. He's wearing a comfortable red robe, and no shoes. Until a moment ago there was a white cloth blindfolding him. His arms and wrists burn, and he can feel blood still dripping from messy wounds. The fabric of his robe is heavy with it. His ears feel oddly heavy too, and when he touches them, he finds several rings embedded in both lobes. There are three more rings on the uppermost shell of his ear, and these are connected to the lower rings by a few silver chains.
And those aren't the only places that feel a bit different from how he remembers.
Wei Wuxian runs his hands down his clothed chest, and then, unable to contain his curiosity, pulls the robe open to look. The blood on his hands matches the color of the robe.
Both nipples are pierced with silvery metal.
"I'm a bit scared to check what the fuck is going on between these legs," he mutters to nobody. He can feel it, though. There's piercings down there too. He really has been given the body of a pleasure slave.
Everything feels more than a bit wobbly. He woke slumped on the ground against the wall, and when he tries standing his legs won't hold him. Trying too hard is just going to end with him falling flat and breaking his nose or some bullshit like that. The single talisman light he can see in the cell seems far too bright, it's acutely uncomfortable. He's also more than a bit thirsty.
In the corner of the room is a low wash basin. He goes to it on his shaking hands and knees, first taking a drink to do something about how dry he feels inside. Either washing water or drinking water, and he is too thirsty to care about possibly drinking soap. He gulps down mouthfuls until he nearly chokes on them. Then, he waits for the surface to still so he can look at his reflection.
This… Xiao, whoever he was, is quite fair. Though, again, pleasure slave. His eyes are dark and mild, face pretty and made even more so by the ear piercings. The blood smeared all over everything ruins the look, as does the familiar look of haunted resignation he can see in the reflection's eyes. Exhaustion doesn't become this face. The particular kind Wei Wuxian's carried for so long probably wouldn't become anyone.
As the painful dehydration starts to ebb away, Wei Wuxian notices that the edge of the basin is bloodied and partially broken. That must've been what Xiao used to make the cuts for the ritual. Either it was already broken, or Xiao smashed it with a rock. Which reminds him that he's still bleeding all over the place and should really do something about that.
The cuts are deep. He tugs his sleeves down and wraps them around both wrists, then squeezes tightly. It's awkward to hold both his own wrists at once, that's for sure. But he can't keep bleeding like this. It would be miserably impressive if he managed to bleed out within an hour of being resurrected.
Wei Wuxian settles against the washbasin, closing his eyes. Ugh. Everything hurts. It probably isn't even safe to sleep.
Just a moment later a loud clang of metal screeches through the room. He spins around to face the door in time to watch it swing open. Distantly he realizes that he's lost the grip on his wrists, and they're bleeding again, fuck. The rapid movement makes his head keep spinning after he knows he's gone still and he almost falls into the basin, barely able to catch himself to look at his visitor.
It's a young man in red robes, fine-boned and beautiful. He feels tangentially familiar, but Wei Wuxian can't put his finger on it. He's too busy staring at the Qishan Wen crest on his robes.
"Who are you?" He demands, wobbling on his knees again. He grabs the wall for support. His wrists are bleeding again, more slowly than before, thankfully. But he needs his hands free. There's enough blood at hand to write several talismans if he has to, even though the specifics are incredibly blurry in his memory.
The man just gawks at the blood slathering the cell, and Wei Wuxian has to repeat his question twice before he gets a response.
"It's me, Huoyao," he says, a concerned furrow in his forehead, now looking straight at him.
This is the crown prince? Coming to visit his father's pleasure slave in the dungeon?
Well, Xiao did say that the crown prince was kind to the concubines. And he certainly looks the part of imperial royalty, from his delicately pretty face to the high quality of his robes. He doesn't carry himself quite like the royalty Wei Wuxian is used to, though. He seems more… certain, rather than arrogant. It's been a few generations since Wen Chao, obviously. There's also an odd buzz around him, an aura of something powerful. Wei Wuxian can't manage to parse that out right now.
He takes a small step forward.
"Do you want to die?"
Wei Wuxian's head spins, because, what.
Usually when people ask him if he wants to die it's a threat. It's spat at him in the face of his arrogance or defiance. Wen Huoyao says it bizarrely gently, like he's offering a small child their choice of sweets. What kind of a question even is that, anyway? It's always a trick question, that's for sure.
Something in Wen Huoyao's stance solidifies, and he steps toward him again. "You have your blindfold off. Are you alright?"
Apparently Xiao usually wears a blindfold. That's good to know.
"I'm fine," he says, staunchly ignoring the blood everywhere, the blood that's still dripping from his fingertips. And how he's still gripping the wall to remain in this kneeling position. And how he's shaking visibly. And the tremor in his voice. He needs to get back to putting pressure on his wrists, he doesn't have time for this!
Wen Huoyao takes another step toward him, reaching out until he can almost put his hand on Wei Wuxian's shoulders. He snaps his fingers on the other hand, and there's a heavy wash of ohwowsomething that washes over Wei Wuxian. Power, strength, golden light, the distant call of a sword. A spark of pure terror comes first, which he can't find the reason for through how fast it makes his heart race, and then all his aches and pains fade into background noise and he stops shaking. The wounds in his wrists tingle. Then they stop bleeding entirely.
Oh.
Xiao was a cultivator.
And his golden core, the one in Wei Wuxian's body now, is strong.
Apparently his cultivation was sealed, and Wen Huoyao has unsealed it now. Just like that. Just like that he gave back what Wei Wuxian already gave away willingly, what isn't even his.
"You're injured." Wen Huoyao's hands brush over Wei Wuxian's forearms. The touch is electric, he's not been touched in what feels like eons. Even through his sleeves the contact prickles. It's because he's doing something with cultivation, probably? Lan Zhan used to touch him like this sometimes when Wei Wuxian overworked himself and he didn't know there was no core to receive what he was trying to give--
"There," Wen Huoyao continues. He smooths his hands down Wei Wuxian's shoulders, and he can narrow his senses down enough now to feel the trickle of power coming from him, stimulating his wounds into healing even more. "I can only leave you like this for a little while, alright?"
Wei Wuxian frowns. That weird buzzing he noticed earlier strengthened significantly when his cultivation was unsealed. Now it's screaming at him in a language he never knew existed before, but that he speaks fluently all the same. It's bright, and buzzing, and purple. Reaching out to him like it knows him. He reaches back to it, calls it to him. He asks for its name and purpose and he learns them in a prickly rush.
Then it comes, in a vibrant slash of the sharpest purple fireflies and ozone stench. Zidian slips onto his finger like she was meant to be there, her lash lain out around his feet. Her energy sings to him, crying out home, safe, familiar, one of MINE
Wen Huoyao's mouth forms a perfect, shocked 'o'.
Well. This is as good a chance as any to escape and figure out where (and when) the fuck he is and what's going on.
He lunges forward with Zidian, wrapping the lash around his neck and wringing down tight. One of the wounds on his arm throbs angrily in warning. Yeah, yeah, killing him would be a direct violation of the terms of the curse. He doesn't plan to.
Wen Huoyao has a sword in his sleeve, but he's just a second too slow. Wei Wuxian throws him to the ground and pins both his arms down, still choking him. The sword goes skittering across the ground.
"Just close your eyes, your majesty," he murmurs.
Wen Huoyao gives one final, desperate buck before his eyes roll back in his head and he goes limp.
Wei Wuxian waits a few more seconds, just to be safe, and then unwraps Zidian. The prince is still breathing, to his relief. There's a dark bruise and several burns from being electrocuted by Zidian, and Wei Wuxian winces. The prince looks so young, probably still a teenager. He'll be alright, he has to be. He's a prince, for fuck's sake, he probably has a golden core stronger than Wei Wuxian can dream.
He jumps to his feet, pausing for a moment to grab the sword Wen Huoyao dropped. It's weighted very strangely, and after a second he realizes it's because the blade is flexible. Fucking weird. But it's better than no sword at all. He considers taking his shoes as well, because he doesn't want to do all of whatever he's going to do barefoot, but the prince's feet are tiny. They'll never fit these new feet of his.
Sword and Zidian in hand, he bolts out the open door. There are two guards down at the farthest end of the corridor. It looks like one of them might be the same foot size as Wei Wuxian--er, Xiao Xingchen, which is fantastic.
He snaps one's neck with Zidian before they even notice he's there, and the other has his throat slit by the curved edge of Wen Huoyao's sword. It's clearly a weapon that requires a very specific style to use, one that Wei Wuxian has no idea where to start with. At least the shoes fit.
But between the stolen sword and Zidian, Wei Wuxian fights his way out of the dungeon. He can send a brief pulse of qi down the sword's edge and make it rigid, but only for a moment. Then the spirit starts screaming and shoves the unfamiliar energy out. It still works well enough for him to fight through what seems uncomfortably like the Wen palace, and out into the sunlight on an all-too familiar stairway.
This is where he died. He remembers his neck snapping in Wen Ruohan's hands. He remembers things he shouldn't be able to, like Lan Zhan's wordless scream and the sound of Jiang Cheng's legs giving out under him. The tiger seal clacking to the ground-- no, that's the bizarre bendy sword he stole from Wen Huoyao falling out of his hand.
Behind him, there's shouting and pounding feet. Wei Wuxian ducks his head and runs for more reasons than one. He can't be here. He can't stay here, he'll die or worse and he can't be caught either--
But he's fled through this turf before, and this body is strong, this core stronger, every bit as strong as his original one. And he has the advantage of sheer, panicked adreneline.
It takes about an hour to lose his pursuers among the thick forests and craggy cliffs he remembers from the indoctrination.
Well, he's free, at least. And he has Zidian. He didn't manage to pick up the sword again, which is for the best now that he thinks about it. Most cultivators can track their swords if they're stolen. And if he's supposed to be putting Wen Huoyao on the throne, stealing his spiritual weapon certainly won't endear him to the man.
He sneaks into the first town he finds and steals a pair of robes that were hanging out to dry. He then lingers out behind an inn for a while, listening, and manages to pick up on a few things.
For one, it can't have been that long since Sunshot, because the emperor is the Wen Ruohan he knows. For another, word of the escaped concubine travels fast, and everyone is on the lookout for a man with pierced ears. So, he'll have to do something about that.
The piercings in his ears have some kind of cultivation lock on them that he can't break or undo, so he ends up needing to rip them out. It's surprisingly painful, especially the ones in the uppermost shell of his ear, but it's necessary. The wounds heal quickly, spurred on by his golden core. Strange to have one again, after so long.
To his surprise and unending relief, the piercings between his legs don't have locks on them at all and slip out easily. He throws all of them in the first river he finds. If they have trackers on them, it will lead his pursuers in the wrong direction.
Where can he go? Gusu is his first instinct. He needs to find someone who can tell him how long it's been since the war ended, so he can get his bearings. Surely, Lan Zhan and Zewu-jun will be in Cloud Recess. They will be able to help him, to tell him what the hell happened after he died. How the fuck Wen Ruohan became the emperor.
The fact that he's had another child means it's been some time. Wen Huoyao looked to be in his late teens, between sixteen and nineteen. He's been dead for at least two decades, probably.
Well. No reason to waste time.
So he takes a deep breath in these new lungs, and turns toward Gusu.
~*~
It's not nearly as easy to dissolve the wards around Cloud Recess as he remembers. What once took just a few minutes and hardly any concentration now needs the better part of an hour and his undivided focus. Perhaps it's because he's out of practice, what with being dead for some unknown number of decades and having spent a few years before that without a core. Still, Wei Wuxian manages to get them open with no one the wiser. He strolls his way up the stairs, and at the top, he's met by eight Lan disciples with their swords drawn. More of a welcoming party than he expected. Maybe he didn't manage to open the wards undetected.
"I need to speak with the sect leader," he says, hoping he sounds confident and authoritative. "I've come a long way and I need Zewu-jun's help."
"Are you being cruel on purpose?" One of the disciples snarls through clenched teeth. His hand is white-knuckled on the hilt of his sword. "Or are you just stupid?"
He puts up his hands. "I'm not being cruel," he quickly explains. "I really do need to speak with Zewu-jun, it's of the utmost importance."
A slim Lan woman with a vicious grimace on her face takes a step toward him. Her sword is all the way out of its sheath. "Mention that traitor one more time, I dare you. I'll gut you where you stand."
What? Zewu-jun, a traitor? They can't be talking about the same Zewu-jun, they can't be talking about Lan Xichen.
Wei Wuxian frowns. He doesn't have time for this! "Okay. If Zewu-jun isn't available, Hanguang-jun would be just as good. Or even Grandmaster Lan. Someone with authority."
"Stand down," a familiar voice says. "I know this man."
Wei Wuxian's entire body seizes and shudders.
Lan Zhan!
Then the disciples part to let him through, and Wei Wuxian feels like he's been slapped because Lan Zhan looks different.
The first thing he notices is that his hair is short, and pulled up into what looks very much like a child's hairstyle. No guan, and no inky spill down his back. The next is that he's wearing some kind of bizarre wrap on his neck. Too thick to be a necklace. It looks-- too ornamental to be something medical, and it matches his light blue robes perfectly, but it's also so unlike the Lan Zhan he knows to wear...decorations? Can it even be called jewelry?
"Xiao Xingchen," Lan Zhan says, bending slightly at the waist and not moving his head an inch. Well shit, at least Lan Zhan seems to be on good terms with this body's former inhabitant. "How did you escape Nightless city?"
Anger roils inside Wei Wuxian, and for a moment he tastes the ash-iron power of the Tiger Seal. What happened, how on earth did...
He opens his mouth, but he can't find words. All he manages is a creaky, wooden noise and some wide-eyed staring.
Lan Zhan nods, his face softening so subtly that if Wei Wuxian hadn't made an entire summer project of studying Lan Zhan's micro expressions he would've missed it. "Come with me."
He takes him by the arm and leads him into the jingshi after dismissing the disciples. He seems to understand, at least a little bit, that there are too many eyes and too many variables for him to be able to speak. Only once the doors of the jingshi are closed firmly behind them and Lan Zhan has visibly activated a silencing array does Wei Wuxian get his voice back.
"Lan Zhan," he whispers. His voice breaks. "What did they do to you?" He desperately doesn't want him to be the A-Zhan Xiao Xingchen mentioned, but it keeps making more and more sense. He can't be. But then, is there another explanation? He knew him by name, on sight. They seem on good terms. Friendly, even. "Please, talk to me Lan Zhan. Tell me it's not what I think it is."
Lan Zhan's head snaps up. His eyes narrow. "You are not Xiao Xingchen." He unsheathes Bichen a a bit, but Wei Wuxian is beyond being cowed by the sight of a few inches of steel. "Who are you?"
"Lan Zhan," he whispers again, trembling all over. "It's me. Wei Wuxian."
The next thing he knows he's been tackled flat on his back with Bichen right at his throat. Lan Zhan is snarling like a wild thing.
"Wen Ruohan's cruelty knows no bounds," he spits with anger so hot it can't have come from his Lan Zhan, who always ran so cold. "How dare you speak his name! How dare you come into my home and--"
Wei Wuxian closes his hand over Lan Zhan's on the hilt of Bichen, and that cuts him off.
"I'm sorry," Wei Wuxian whispers. "I don't know-- I don't know what's going on at all, but it's me, Lan Zhan. It's really me." He swallows. The movement makes Bichen draw a red line on his throat. "Remember when we fought over emperor's smile the first day of lectures? I broke the wards and I asked you if you wanted to share the wine with me, and you were furious. I drank one jar and you saw the other one shattered on the ground. You never even compensated me."
Lan Zhan's eyes narrow. "Our fight that night was common knowledge, Wei Ying himself saw to that."
He wracks his brain. What else, what else can he use to convince him--
"In the cave of the tortoise of slaughter," he says quickly. "It was just the two of us. After we killed it. I was injured. You played a song for me, and I wanted to know the name of it but I don't think I managed to ask before I passed out. It was such a lovely song and I'll always remember it."
The muscles in Lan Zhan's jaw twitch. "Sing it for me," he demands. He still looks wild and lost on top of Wei Wuxian, but now it's more like he's the one pinned. "If you are him and you've never forgotten then sing it for me now."
So he does. His memory might be shit and he might've been on the brink of collapse at the time, but he does remember it. He remembers clinging fiercely to consciousness to the sound of those notes.
Bichen goes clattering across the room, tossed aside uncaringly. And Lan Zhan cries. He falls on top of Wei Wuxian and cries his entire heart out. The salt stains will ruin this robe.
Wei Wuxian manages to maneuver them into sitting up, his back against the wall. It's difficult to do with an armful of sobbing Lan Zhan, but he isn't as heavy as Wei Wuxian remembers. He's always been a slimmer sort of strong, but this is edging on worrisome.
"What did they do to you?" He asks again, unable to stop himself from touching Lan Zhan's short hair, petting down his shoulders, his arms. He doesn't know what he's checking for. Piercings, like the ones originally on this body? That would call for a more intimate touch than he'll ever be permitted with Lan Zhan. Injuries, then. Not that he will be able to feel them through the robes. Maybe just a reassurance that this is Lan Zhan, here, alive in his arms. "What is this thing on your neck? What...what happened to your hair?"
Lan Zhan wipes his eyes and leans away. Wei Wuxian realizes all in a rush that before that he was leaning in, leaning toward the touches that he always seemed to despise. "It is... something I can bear," he says solemnly. "I cannot remove it."
Wei Wuxian flaps his hands at him. "Let me look, I'll figure out a way, let me look! How's it kept on?"
Lan Zhan touches the back of his neck, then turns to face away from Wei Wuxian.
The odd contraption is made of white dyed leather, with several long strips of metal keeping it's shape. It's laced up the back with a white ribbon. A Lan hair ribbon. But Lan Zhan has his ribbon on his head, so who...
"The ribbon is mine," he answers the unspoken question in a hoarse voice. "This one..." He raises his fingers to touch the one on his forehead. "This one is my brother's."
A powerful bought of nausea has him turning away, so that he won't barf on Lan Zhan. He doesn't barf at all, but only because it's clearly been a while since he last ate.
Once the nausea eases off, Wuxian grabs the ribbon and tries to untie it, but it won't budge. The lacing feels welded in place.
"The emperor has some kind of lock on it," Lan Zhan explains. He doesn't turn around. "Uncle and I have looked extensively for a way to remove it without harming me. We have had no luck."
Wei Wuxian prods it with his qi, and reels. For all intents and purposes, the ribbon is welded to the material of the wrap. To undo it would take massive amounts of power, and he can't think of a way without risking harm to Lan Zhan. Could he cut the leather? No, the delicate skin of Lan Zhan's neck is right there. The leather's so thick, and after a bit more prodding Wei Wuxian finds spell work inside the material itself. It'll close up any cut or gash that doesn't go all the way through the leather. Cutting through it gradually or trying to wear through it would be impossible.
Burning anger turns everything red. He automatically pushes back against surging resentful energy that doesn't come, nearly over balancing himself physically. Huh, he doesn't recall there needing to be a physical motion to do that. "So, you just have to wear that thing all the time? Even at night?"
"Yes."
He closes his eyes. Clenches his teeth. He imagines punching Jin Zixuan, killing Wen Chao, anything to make the roaring fury in his head stop. "Who did this to you?"
It was Wen Ruohan, he already knows it has to be Wen Ruohan, why is he even asking? But he still needs to hear it directly, hear it from Lan Zhan's own mouth.
"Wen Ruohan. The emperor. Who I am technically a concubine of."
It's very, very fortunate that Wei Wuxian is already curse-bound to kill the man. Because now, seeing what he's done to Lan Zhan, he won't rest until Wen Ruohan is in pieces.
Notes:
Muahaha! The Yiling Patriarch is alive! Hooray!
So there's several points I wanna get to which means this is a long end note, whoops.1. Thank you so much for all your pleased, bewildered, excited screeching in the comments last chapter! Rest assured I have been grinning like a maniac nonstop since then 😁 seriously though, it means so much to me. Thank you.
2. Do you know how hard it was on me to not name this chapter "hmmm, ghost lungs" because it was rather difficult
3. omg keeping this a secret has been a TIME my friends. Did you really think I was gonna just leave wwx dead? Because, if you did, you were absolutely right. He remained dead in the first draft of this story. And the second. And then, well. I changed my mind 🤣 and then proceeded to rewrite a good 30% of things I had written already, and rework my outline. Woo, making more work for myself! Gotta love it.4. I very much forgot that I meant to put a visual reference for LWJ's posture collar back in the relevant chapter and then I just kinda didn't??? Oops. So anyway click here for a (sfw) image of what I'm picturing, just in white.
5. Want more Wangxian in this verse? I gotchu, clickhere for some more time with our favorite necromancing genius gremlin and his Lan Zhan.
Chapter 43: Interlude 3: He will be as protective and paranoid as he damn well pleases
Summary:
Wen Ruohan has lived a long life. In that long life, he has lost many of those he considers most precious.
Notes:
If you haven't read any of the extras before, or only read the least dead-dovey ones, then this will be your first and only exposure to Wen Ruohan's POV. Warnings include some pretty intense paranoia, infantilization, violent and possessive protectiveness, and some bizarre extended metaphors involving dead animals and animal abuse.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Xiao Xingchen is a dead man.
Wen Ruohan sits at Yao'er's bedside, stroking his hair. Ting Guozhen said, more than once, that he is only in a much-needed healing sleep and will wake soon. Besides being strangled into unconsciousness and electrocuted, his son also apparently hit his head when he fell. But the concussion is very minor. He survived being strangled with an electric whip, he can survive the aftermath. He will be fine.
Both the emperor and Xichen are still hovering. Xichen sits on the bed by his husband's side, carefully stimulating his golden core with little circles traced on the hand he's holding. Ruohan isn't doing the same only because the healer told him not to. She said that Xichen alone was less likely to overfill Yao'er's spiritual veins.
The dark, hideous mark ringing Yao'er's neck is so deep it isn't even slightky lightening under Zewu-jun's gentle treatment. It's half a burn and half a bruise, with long pinkish tendrils branching off where the electricity from Zidian coursed through his skin. One goes clear up the side of his face and vanishes into his hair. The edges of the wound are pink and raw.
Yes, Xiao Xingchen is already dead. His end will be violent. Wen Ruohan tore Wei Wuxian to pieces and left his corpse to rot for killing Chao'er, he's currently embroiled in his very long plan to make Nie Mingjue suffer for killing Xu'er. He isn't sure what he will do to Xiao Xingchen and his co-conspirators, but it will be no less brutal for not having actually killed Yao'er.
Because there was a moment that Ruohan was absolutely certain Yao'er was dead, just like his other sons. He was alerted to the prisoner's escape only after the guards lost track of him, and those who failed so spectacularly have all paid dearly for it already. Not his best work, but he needed to at least attempt to slake his anger before moving on. All but one of them were eviscerated on the spot, except for the highest ranking officer. He is down in the dungeons, for when the emperor has more time to deal with him.
By the time anyone realized Yao'er was nowhere to be found, he must have been laying there unconscious for an unacceptable amount of time. Wen Huan was the one to raise the alarm, rushing to him and babbling in utter panic about Yao'er not answering him in the communication matrix they apparently share. He supposes he shouldn't underestimate how close they are, it makes sense they would want to be able to talk even when apart. And, now, its existence may well have saved his son's life.
Healer Ting touches Xichen's shoulder. "Zewu-jun, you're going to make yourself ill, giving all this power at once. And he will have an easier time waking if his golden core is allowed to mellow a bit."
Slowly the blue glow in his fingertips fades out. "What else can I do?" He asks, voice hoarse with crying.
It was Xichen who reached Yao'er's crumpled body first, throwing himself down in the doorway to the filthy and blood-covered cell to check his pulse. That was the moment, hollow and terrifying, that Ruohan was certain his son was dead. The color drained out of the world, and his heart rocked violently against his ribs. Not another dead son. Another little one he failed to protect.
He had been so careful this time, cleverly kept him in Nightless City, gave him a personal guard who was one of the absolute best, allowed Xichen's unsealed cultivation in the name of Yao'er's safety, had all his food vetted carefully, killed or subdued all his major enemies and those who would want to hurt Ruohan through his son, and still, and still his son was--
Only after Zewu-jun choked out that he was breathing did Wen Ruohan feel alive again himself.
"Well, you could play for him," Guozhen suggests, nodding at his xiao. "Something soothing, but not to induce more sleep. Perhaps one of those qi-balancing songs."
Xichen nods, but it takes him a moment to release Yao'er's hand. He raises his flute to his lips, and starts playing.
Ruohan recognizes the tune as the Song of Clarity. The notes sink into his aching heart and tug his energy back into place, even though all of Xichen's focus is on Yao'er. As it should be.
His son's brow furrows, and Ruohan gently smoothes it out with his thumb.
"Yao'er," he murmurs, and his voice comes out so soft he hardly recognizes it. He hasn't spoken to anyone so gently since he held his dying wife in one arm and the newly born Chao'er in the other, as the healers and midwives worked desperately to stop the bleeding. "Can you wake up for me, my son? Can you open your eyes?"
His eyelids flutter, and then pop open. Xichen's flute drops into his lap, the song ending abruptly.
"A-Huan?" Yao'er croaks, voice broken. "A-die?"
"Don't try to talk, my prince," Guozhen says quickly. "Your throat is injured."
Yao'er obediently closes his mouth, eyes half-lidded.
Xichen cups his husband's cheek. "A-Yao," he whispers. "Are you--"
"He should not be nodding or shaking his head either," Guozhen interjects. "No questions. Would one of you mind moving over so I can check him?"
Ruohan moves to stand at the head of the cot, glad it isn't pushed up against the wall, and continues stroking his son's hair. Gods above, Yao'er is so little, still too thin, he has to do something about that. The single layered robe that he'd been changed into for treatment does nothing to hide his tiny waist or sunken collarbone.
Guozhen looks him over quickly. "Your head injury is almost healed entirely thanks to Zewu-jun's assistance," she says. "The injury to your throat will take more time, possibly more than a week or two. I also can't promise it won't scar." She flinches as Ruohan shoots her a murderous glare. "I-- I will do all I can!"
"A-die," Yao'er says in a dry, shattered rasp. "Don't…"
"Hush," Xichen says, putting a finger over his lips.
Ruohan shakes his head. "I won't do anything to distress you," he assures him, burying both hands into his messy hair. "Healer Ting is safe from my wrath. Though I cannot say the same for Xiao Xingchen."
Yao'er flinches, looking up at him, and Ruohan realizes he must be scowling viciously. His heart jolts. He never intended to turn his most murderous expression on his delicate youngest son. Even xiao-Su, the newest addition to his family, isn't this fearful.
"I am not angry with you," he soothes, forcing the rage down.
He was a bit angry with Yao'er, for a brief moment. It was foolish for him to be carrying that infernal lightning whip in his sleeve-- but then again, supposedly the only cultivator alive who could wield it was A-Cheng (he suspects Yao'er has made some kind of deal with A-Cheng to take good care of the weapon, and that was the reason he always carried it with him). Xiao Xingchen should have been more than under control, between the mindshaping and the fact that his cultivation was sealed. His son took no unnecessary risks, but even if he did, Ruohan being angry with him will only make things worse. He makes himself smile, reminding himself that Yao'er is alive, wounded but alive, and delicate. He needs to be handled with the utmost care. Like a priceless statue rescued from bandits who would sell it on the black market, or a spiritual puppy pulled from the river after the cruel breeder decided keeping the runt wasn't worth it.
"Alright," Guozhen says, finishing her examination and stepping back. "I have to go mix up something for him to eat. I will be right back."
She returns hardly any time later, with two small boxes, a glass jar of cream, and a mortar and pestle. One of the boxes Ruohan recognizes as an ice box, papered with freezing talismans. They are usually used to preserve food.
"You will tell me what every ingredient is and what the purpose of it is," Ruohan says lowly.
"Of course." Guozhen opens the ice box and removes several cube chunks of frozen fruit, which she sets in the mortar. "These are persimmon and jackfruit. They add sugar and substance to the mixture as well as taste. The cold will assist in numbing the pain in his throat." She opens the next box, which is full of a light brown powder. "These are ground peanuts, for protein." She ladles a large scoop into the mortar, coating the frozen fruit chunks. Then she takes up the pestle, and grinds it into a paste. Once that is done, she picks up the glass jar. "This is cream, which adds fat and also has the effect of soothing the throat." She pours it over the peanut powder and fruit paste. "I will also add a bit of water for hydration."
Ruohan insists she drinks some herself before allowing Yao'er to even touch the liquid. Maybe he is taking his paranoia to extreme levels, Guozhen clearly thinks so, but he does not care. His son almost died today. He will be as protective and paranoid as he damn well pleases.
Xichen props him up, while Ruohan helps him hold the cup. He drains it quickly, once again making Ruohan think about his similarities to a kitten. A cruelly abused kitten, gulping down his first decent meal in a long time.
"He can return to his rooms, now," Guozhen says after the cup is empty. "No more qi infusions today, but he should have one first thing in the morning. I'm sure you can provide that, Zewu-jun."
Xichen nods. "Absolutely."
"I will have the kitchens bring you the ingredients to make another mixture for him to drink. He must keep his strength up, and the easiest way to do so is to make sure his stomach is full. Tonight he needs rest, but if he is up for it tomorrow night, dual cultivation will also help." Guozhen produces a paper and begins writing, ignoring Xichen's flush at the mention of dual cultivation. "You know the Method of Thirty Petals technique, correct?"
He blinks at her. "Er… I am afraid I do not."
"It's a cultivation technique that reduces inflammation and pain."
Xichen's eyes light up. "Oh, I believe I do. I was taught that it was called Drawing and Draining."
"They are the same technique. Use it on his throat, if it begins to cause him pain. I will have a medicinal tea sent to your rooms as well, which will help numb and soothe the pain. No solid food until at least lunch tomorrow." She blows on the ink to dry it. "I'll come by around then to check on him. Minimal talking only. Be gentle with his head and neck."
"Thank you," Xichen says. He takes the paper when it's offered to him.
They have a brief moment of conflict as to who will be carrying Yao'er back to his room, but after a moment Xichen relents. He did carry Yao'er all the way to the infirmary from the dungeon, and then gave him probably half his spiritual power. He's exhausted.
Yao'er is so small in his arms. He rests his head against Ruohan's shoulder, and closes his eyes, making his heart dance at the display of trust.
Carrying him is a novel experience, even though he's done it before. Both Xu'er and Chao'er were much too big for Ruohan to carry by the time they were ten years old, but tiny Yao'er is twenty-one and still light enough for him to lift and hold with ease. Is he eating enough? Ruohan will have to pay closer attention to his diet. He may well need extra fat and protein. His usual tea could be swapped out for milk tea, that would help, perhaps with added ground taro. Milk isn't good for actual kittens, but it is good for humans. Both Xu'er and Chao'er had grown up on milk tea, it helped bolster bone strength and allowed for healthy weight gain. He suddenly has a violent wish to go back in time, to find Yao'er when he was still young and growing and make sure he has everything he needs. Everything he deserves.
Wen Xichen holds the door to their rooms open, and then the one to the bedroom as well. Ruohan has only been in this room a few brief times, and he is immensely pleased when he recognizes the quilt he gave his son and his husband as a wedding gift atop it. Xichen's qin and his zheng both sit on the table in the corner, ready to be played. It's a safe and homely feeling room, but Ruohan's mind is spinning as to ways he can make it safer. It needs to be a fortress of its own. It needs to be impenetrable.
"Here," Xichen says, pulling the quilt back. It is stuffed with goose down and rabbit fur, it is the softest, warmest, and most luxurious blanket in all of Qishan. "Let's get you under the blanket."
Yao'er seems more than half asleep as Ruohan gently settles him in the bed. He bends down and kisses his forehead. Yao'er twitches.
"Rest," he says. "Whatever fears you have running through that brilliant mind, discard them. You lived, Yao'er, you didn't leave me. Your father loves you and is very, very proud of you."
Those huge eyes go even wider for a moment, as if in disbelief. He's shaking a bit, too, though that could be cold or anxiety. Either way, he pulls the quilt up to his son's chin, and the thick, high-quality fabric quells his shivering.
Ruohan kisses his head again, then gently pets his hair. "I know you fear me rescinding my love over every little thing. I suppose I will just have to keep proving to you that my love is not as conditional as the likes of Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangshan. You believe that Wen Xichen loves you, eventually you'll come to believe me too."
His eyelids flutter, and Ruohan smoothes his fingers over them, forcing them closed. "Sleep, now. Just sleep."
Yao'er is asleep within minutes.
He turns to Xichen. "Huan'er," he says. He fishes around in his sleeve until he finds the talisman he's looking for. "Burn this if you need me. I have a matching one that will burn in tandem with it." He should've given this to his son a long time ago. Maybe, once he's better, he'll ask Yao'er to share the method he used to create the matrix he uses to communicate with his husband. No, he shouldn't trouble him, he needs to focus on recovering. Surely Qisen can come up with something similar.
"Thank you," Xichen says, taking the talisman. "Will you come back to check on him in the morning?" He swallows. "I-- suspect he will still have nightmares about being kicked out."
Ruohan nods. "Of course. I will be here in time for breakfast." He breathes a bit easier now, now that he isn't forcing his anger down with everything he is to avoid frightening Yao'er. "I will also be sending a few of my most trusted guards to be stationed around your rooms. Something bizarre is afoot, and I refuse to risk my son."
Nodding, Xichen calls Shuoyue from her ornate stand in the corner she was only just returned to. Hensheng usually hangs next to her, but the stand is empty. The elegant sword comes quickly, apparently just as eager to defend Yao'er as her wielder. "You are absolutely correct. I will not leave his side. I doubt I will sleep, and if I do it will be with my sword in hand."
Ruohan hums. "Is Hensheng in his sleeve like usual? We should probably return her to her stand."
Xichen's eyes flicker. "Ah, excellent point." He stands and goes to open the qiankun pouch Yao'er's robes are in. They aren't damaged, just in need of a wash. Xichen reaches into one sleeve, frowning, then the other. Then he goes back to the first sleeve.
"She is not in here," he says slowly. "A-Yao always carries her in one of his sleeves. Always."
Ruohan goes over to check the sleeves himself, even though Xichen frets about it.
"Hensheng is always happy to come to me," he whispers. "But I can't sense her anywhere nearby."
Xichen is correct. The sleeves, qiankun and regular, of Yao'er's robes are all empty.
"How far away can you usually sense Yao'er's sword?" Ruohan asks. It's not unusual for married or otherwise closely bonded cultivators to form a connection with one another's spiritual weapons, though it does signify a lot of unconscious trust on Yao'er's part.
"The farthest I have ever managed is from here in our rooms to the throne room." Xichen worries his lip. "She must be farther away than that." In his hands, Shuoyue gives a sharp, unhappy glimmer of icy blue light.
"Xiao Xingchen must have stolen it," Wen Ruohan realizes. "Along with Zidian. The guard captain I interrogated did say he had a strange sword with him."
Xichen's lip curls. "It will do him little good. Hensheng requires a very specific form to wield, and she is fiercely loyal to A-Yao." Shuoyue flickers again, and Ruohan reaches out a hand to place on her hilt.
"This is the most activity I have ever seen out of a regular jian spirit," he observes. "The bond between your swords must be strong." Shuoyue's spirit is pulsing in angry, miserable little waves. Ruohan's hand doesn't seem to be improving things, so he removes it. "Unsheathe your blade and see if she can point us in a direction."
Xichen does, and the sword instantly whips in a circle like the needle of a compass. She's pointing east, and when Xichen takes a step toward the sword, Shuoyue inches away.
"Go," Ruohan says. "If the trail leads you out of Nightless City, then we will have to send a team out, but judging from the strength of your blade's reaction I think Hensheng may be closer than anticipated."
Xichen takes one long, worried look at Yao'er.
"I will not leave his side until you return," Ruohan says firmly. "Go and find your husband's sword."
He darts out the door, following the streak of blue.
Ruohan settles in next to his son, pulling Baoxin from his own sleeve. Her spirit is an old one, and she is often subdued and reticent outside of battle. She was his great-great-grandmother's sword, and while it is more common for young cultivators to have a new sword made for them when they come of age, sometimes a family heirloom takes a liking to a descendant of their original wielder. As was the case with Baoxin. She's as protective as he is, and he can feel the edges of her anger flickering across his mind.
"All will be well." He squeezes her hilt firmly. "Hensheng will be found and Yao'er will be fine. And you'll get to taste the blood of the man who did this, I swear it."
Only a few minutes after that, Xichen returns, a familiar sword in hand. "She was on the front steps of the palace," he says softly. "Just laying there." He toes off his shoes and then, with more careful reverence than he showed even his own sword, puts Yao'er's limp hand over Hensheng's hilt. "She was angry and afraid," he says in explanation. "I think she was afraid A-Yao was...hurt badly."
"Your sword led the way directly, then?" Ruohan asks.
"Yes." Apparently satisfied, he removes Hensheng from Yao'er's sleeping grip and puts her in her stand as delicately and reverently as an infant. "I believe you are correct about Xiao Xingchen stealing her." There's a dark, angry film over his eyes. "As he fled, he must have either realized she was too complex for him to wield, or her spirit was angry enough to get him to drop her. The guards probably overlooked her in favour of chasing him down." He sighs and sits down at Yao'er's side. "Now that that is taken care of, I will not leave his side again."
The soft but unbending challenge in that almost makes him smile. Zewu-jun is certainly not being sparse in his love and devotion. It's a pleasing reminder that keeping him here, at his son's side, was a good idea.
Ruohan squeezes his shoulder. "Good. I know you will keep him safe. Do sleep if you can, I will make sure your rooms are well guarded." He stands, taking one final moment to look at the dark mark around his son's delicate neck. "I am going back down to the dungeon to look over the ritual marks that Xiao Xingchen made. I will figure out how he regained his wits and how he came to be able to wield Zidian. And then I'll figure out whoever helped him, and make them suffer."
"You will keep me updated?" Xichen asks, eyes narrowing a bit.
Oh, he's angry too. His anger is different from Ruohan's, quieter and colder, but no less potent. It's an odd thought to have, even for just moment, that Xichen's anger could be even a fraction of his own. It feels so paltry to think about.
"Neither of us can go hunt him down ourselves," Ruohan says. He hates it as much as Xichen. "We are both needed here, especially if someone is vying for Yao'er's life."
Xichen grits his teeth. "I do not understand. A-Yao was never anything but kind to Xiao Xingchen. This obviously was a planned attack, with him breaking free of the cultivation lock, with the use of Zidian and whatever that unholy array is." His eyes, usually so gentle, flicker with the kind of anger Ruohan hasn't seen since the incident with Jin Guangshan. Again, such a strange thought...but perhaps not that strange, because Yao'er does often bring out strong emotions in others. "He could have incapacitated A-Yao in so many ways, but he chose to strangle him nearly to death. And to try and steal his sword as well..."
He is, truly and genuinely, distressed down to his soul. It's not that he didn't think Xichen capable of that range of emotion-- more that he is surprised at how upsetting he finds his son-in-law's distress. Xichen was never supposed to become one of his, not really. Until now he was only Ruohan's by virtue of being Yao'er's, insofar as anything that matters to his son matters to the emperor.
Now, unbidden, he wants to soothe Xichen's fear even when Yao'er isn't awake to be distressed by it.
These are thoughts for later Ruohan goes back to squeeze his shoulder again. "I know," he murmurs. "He clearly had the capability to write talismans, there are a thousand other ways to subdue someone." He makes eye contact, and he sees himself reflected in Xichen's gaze. "And I know, it is not possible that he acted alone. There is at least one traitor in Nightless City." He clenches his fists. "We will make them pay, Huan'er, I promise. No one hurts our Huoyao and gets away with it."
Xichen gives his wrist a farewell squeeze before he leaves.
Ruohan summons his entire personal guard to the hallway outside Yao'er's rooms, except for Xianbian and Tieyun. He still doesn't trust the torturer to truly look out for Yao'er's safety when the two of them have clashed so many times. In fact, Tieyun is higher on the list of people who may have assisted Xiao Xingchen than he would like. Xianbian is already working on gathering information, pouring through the library. He summons General Mu Fenyan instead of Tieyun.
"How is he?" Fuhe asks, the first one to arrive.
Ruohan sighs, allowing himself to relax a bit in his sworn brother's presence. "The scar around his neck may never heal. But he will be alright."
Fuhe's eyes turn hard. "The poor boy. He already suffers enough, now he may have to contend with a lifelong scar too."
Mingxia arrives not long after Fuhe, frazzled and angry, with her sister in tow. This was meant to be the Shi sisters' day off, yet another reason for him to be certain this was premeditated, and that someone with inside information leaked when the Shi sisters would be elsewhere. Today their defenses were weaker than normal, it can't be a coincidence that this would happen at the same time. He is still loathe to disturb them on the one day they get to spend together, but Ruohan knows Daiyu would be furious if she was not informed about the injury to her charge and dear friend. And he needs Mingxia here, he needs all the guardsmen he trusts here. Now.
"It was really Xiao Xingchen?" She asks, clutching her spear.
Ruohan nods. "Somehow, he was able to completely defy the drug, remove his blindfold without becoming distressed, force his way free of the cultivation lock, steal Zidian off Yao'er, and use it to strangle him into unconsciousness, then evade several dozen guards and escape. Yao'er is resting now, Xichen is with him."
Longwei arrives next with Xingxi. Not long after that comes Bingwen and Shuili. Fenyan is the last to arrive.
He briefs them all on what happened. Longwei, ever protective of anyone of worth who is younger and smaller than himself, bares his teeth, while Bingwen goes reticent in the way Ruohan knows means the man is debating between a slow-acting poison and an instantaneous one. Fenyan looks deeply rattled.
"I want his rooms guarded thoroughly while he's recovering, and while we get to the bottom of this," Ruohan says.
"Daiyu and I can take the first and second shifts in the hallway," Mingxia proposes.
"I will take the third," Fenyan says, hand on the hilt of her sword.
"Let me take the courtyard," Xingxi offers. He clutches at his bow. "If anyone is skulking around the prince's rooms from the outside, I'll see them."
That is absolutely true. The best archer in Qishan, Xingxi has the eyes of an owl.
"I can put talisman alarms on all the windows," Qisen adds. "It might take me an hour or two to get them all written, but it will be worth it to prevent intruders. It seems there's already plenty of wards against spying and eavesdropping on the rooms, but I can also add a few that will make using a transportation talisman to get inside very difficult. The same as I have on your rooms, your excellency. I probably should have done so some time ago."
He truly has compiled a good group of people. Mingxia and her sister are discussing which members of the general guard they trust enough to station around the area or to supplement their efforts if needed. Bingwen is offering Xingxi a paralytic to tip his arrows with, so any potential suspects can be more easily captured. Qisen is muttering about getting the proper kind of rice paper he uses to make the anti-transportation talismans while drawing some other talisman in blood on a strip of linen, and Longwei is discussing with Fenyan and Shuili about who to include on the search party to recapture Xiao Xingchen. Fenyan vouches for three of her soldiers with complete confidence in their loyalty, and Fuhe, who joins the conversation, recommends another two.
He almost wishes Yao'er was awake to see this. Surely seeing so many people bent completely on his safety would help him understand how secure his home in Nightless City is. His personal guard was never this protective of Xu'er or Chao'er. Then again, Xu'er and Chao'er never survived any assassination attempts.
"I will tell Zewu-jun about our plans," Longwei says, and steps back inside Yao'er's rooms.
"The Lord Consort is our prince's last line of defense," Fuhe muses. "How is he taking all this, Han-ge?"
"Quite gracefully," Ruohan says. "He's furious, obviously. But calm and focused enough to defend Yao'er if he needs it."
"Good." Fuhe nods. "I suppose I should expect nothing less from Zewu-jun."
Shuili leaves to inform the people he's picked for the search party, humming softly under his breath. He's been doing that recently, in the wake of his husband's death.
Fuhe and Ruohan wait in the hallway with Daiyu and Mingxia until Qisen returns, laden with strips of linen and rice paper and two bowls of ink. The emperor lends him his qi, and the new wards and alarms go up in half the time.
As they're putting up the final alarm, Longwei steps out of the room. "Zewu-jun is exhausted," he says, voice reflexively quiet from speaking softly enough to not wake Yao'er. "I've sent a talisman to the healers to bring a sleeping draught. He needs rest."
Fuhe nods. "This has been a stressful day." He turns to look at Wen Ruohan. "Will you be needing a sleeping draught as well, Han-ge?"
"I am not planning on going to bed. There is still work to do."
Fuhe crosses his arms, and for a brief moment he looks like the round-faced child Ruohan grew up with. "Neither you nor Zewu-jun will be of any use to Huoyao if you work yourselves to exhaustion. You are going to march yourself back to your rooms-- your well-guarded, very safe rooms, because we can't pretend you aren't a target too-- and enjoy your lovely lotus and get some sleep. Huoyao will be fine."
"Fuhe is right, my lord," Mingxia says quietly. "You look dead on your feet."
Usually her impertinence is something he likes about Shi Mingxia, but right now it's just annoying. Especially because she's right.
"Come," Fuhe says, grabbing him by the arm. "I'll walk with you. When you get up in the morning, you'll be briefed. I promise, Han-ge. For now you need to rest."
Sighing, Ruohan shuts his eyes and allows his younger sworn brother to drag him to his rooms.
Once there, though, he refuses to rest quite yet. Fuhe sighs, aggravated, but Ruohan absolutely has to write these letters before he can rest.
The first is to the kitchens, instructions on the changes he wants made to Yao'er's diet, and to double-down on checking for poison. The second is to his most trusted pharmacist, a request for the best and most effective methods of scar treatment he knows. And the final one is to one of the guard captains, so she will know what he wants written on the posters calling for Xiao Xingchen's capture and offering a hefty reward to anyone who brings him in-- alive.
The door to the bedroom opens, and A-Cheng slowly sticks his face out. Fuhe, still fretting, gestures to him.
"Maybe you can convince this hardhead to sleep."
A-Cheng approaches slowly, brandishing a scrap of paper. Written on it is is Huoyao alright?
Ruohan briefly chastises himself for not realizing that A-Cheng would be worried. Huoyao is his dearest friend, after all.
"He is. He's injured, and rattled, but he'll recover." Ruohan sighs. "Please don't be angry with him, my lotus. I don't think he could bear it."
A-Cheng tilts his head questioningly to the side.
"Zidian was stolen from him," he explains. A-Cheng knows nothing of what happened, beyond that Yao'er had been hurt. Ruohan explains it to him, Xiao Xingchen's betrayal and escape, Yao'er's injuries.
I'm not angry with him, A-Cheng writes on the paper. Can I go see him tomorrow?
"Yes, you may have breakfast with us," he says. Surrounding Yao'er with friends will surely help strengthen him. And it will ease his lotus' worry.
An apprentice healer arrives with a sleeping draught, which Fuhe pushes into his hands. "Please, Han-ge," he mutters. "You're swaying on your feet."
Unfortunately, Fuhe is entirely correct. Ruohan drains the sleeping draught in a few long gulps, and allows his sworn brother to lead him to bed, alongside A-Cheng. His concubine helps him get changed into a sleeping robe, and Fuhe takes down his hair.
"I will make sure every inch of the markings in the cell are documented," Fuhe promises as Ruohan pulls the quilt up.
A-Cheng curls up on his chest, and Ruohan is asleep within minutes.
Notes:
Just in case you missed it (AO3 seems to be hiccuping a lot lately), there are two new extras in this series since the last chapter update! One is about wangxian and the other is a series of one shots that smacked me over the head.
Chapter 44: Nothing and no one is going to be disturbing you
Summary:
Meng Yao is awake.
Notes:
CW: discussions of injury and ritualistic cannibalism.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Meng Yao is floating gently on his back in a pool of warm, warm water. He doesn't want to move. Everything here is soft and slow. If he raises his head, he knows he'll have to leave. What was it that he would be going back to?
"Yao'er."
Back to someone. He thinks he remembers… red? Flames? No, neither of those. Just the smell of smoke, the slightly sweet kind, the kind meant for roasting meat to make it taste good.
There's music. It sounds like a dizi, or a xiao, played expertly. The sounds filter down to him from a distance on lazily drifting petals. Each one lands so softly on the surface of the water, and the little ripples kiss his skin. Gently. Lovingly. An adoring touch.
"A-Yao?"
And mint. He remembers mint, too. The smell of it. The taste of it. The feel of it under his fingers. Skin, not mint. The skin that smelled like mint. Did Xichen rub mint on his wrists daily to smell like that? He must.
Xichen.
Everything goes dull for a few viscerally sharp moments. The music is too loud. The lanterns are too bright. Wen Ruohan's face is too close.
"Yao'er," he says. "Can you wake up for me, my son? Can you open your eyes?"
His eyes are open. Aren't they?
Upon further inspection, they're not. He can see that they're not.
He opens them.
The music stops abruptly. Meng Yao turns his head, and he sees a beloved face shining with tears.
"A-Huan?" His voice is dry. His throat hurts, his neck hurts. Both inside and out. He's in… a room, somewhere. He's in a bed. A bed with blankets. Sitting next to Xichen is his father. "A-die?"
"Don't try to talk, my prince," a woman he should know but doesn't says quickly. "Your throat is injured."
Ah, he remembers her now. Ting Guozhen. One of Wen Qing's top apprentices. He closes his mouth. He was injured, that's right. It's coming back. He was taken off guard. He was-- suffocated? No, strangled. An electric whip. Zidian.
Xiao Xingchen.
He burns inside with the need to know, and so he reaches for the communication matrix.
A-Huan?
I'm so glad you're awake! His husband cups his cheek. "A-Yao, are you--"
"He should not be nodding or shaking his head either," Ting Guozhen interrupts. "No questions. Would one of you mind moving over so I can check him?"
His father moves away and goes to stand against the headboard. There's a few feet of space between the bed and the wall, it seems. He's been stroking Meng Yao's hair, and even as he moves he continues to pet him. He has big, warm hands. It feels nice to have his head touched so gently.
"Your head is almost healed entirely thanks to Zewu-jun's assistance," the healer proclaims after briefly checking him. "The injury to your throat may take a few days. I also can't promise it won't scar."
The furious face his father makes at her is probably warped a bit, since Meng Yao is viewing it upside down. Even so, it makes his heart stutter to think his poor healing might cost this woman her livelihood and life.
"I-- I will do all I can!" She says, raising her hands.
"A-die," Meng Yao grinds out. "Don't…"
"Hush," Xichen says, putting a finger over his lips. In the matrix he adds I do not think he's truly murderous toward anyone but Xiao Xingchen at the moment.
His father shakes his head. "I won't do anything to distress you," he says firmly. Meng Yao believes him, for the split second it takes to remember that Wen Ruohan's continued existence distresses him. He sinks both his hands into Meng Yao's hair to scratch his scalp gently. "Healer Ting is safe from my wrath. Though I cannot say the same for Xiao Xingchen."
You were exactly right, A-Huan, Meng Yao writes to his husband. Xichen smiles at him, and squeezes his hand. Then, he makes the mistake of looking up.
Wen Ruohan's face is twisted in an ugly snarl. He looks insane. He looks furious beyond all measure. He looks like he did back before he had the tiger seal and was so volatile. He looks like he wants to have prisoners of war tortured to death in front of his throne.
Is Meng Yao a prisoner of war? He hasn't been found out. Xichen wouldn't be here if they were. He's not a prisoner. He's safe. Wen Ruohan isn't going to have him tortured to death. It's alright. Everything is fine.
The little voice that says it isn't fine is getting louder and louder and louder and louder and louder and louder and louder and loud--
"I am not angry with you," Wen Ruohan interrupts. He strokes his palm over Meng Yao's hair, soothing and gentle. His face is composed now. He's looking down at him with an open expression of affection. Affection and concern.
"Alright," the healer says. Apparently she's done with her examination. "I have to go mix up something for him to eat. I will be right back." She flits out the door quickly, and all three of them watch her go.
She returns hardly any time later, with a glass jar of something white, a large box, a smaller box, and a mortar and pestle. One of the boxes is covered in ice talismans. Probably it's for storing food over a long period of time.
"You will tell me what every ingredient is and what the purpose of it is," his father growls.
He is being very protective, Meng Yao notes. It's a bit over the top.
Xichen squeezes his hand again. You were almost assassinated by a completely unexpected enemy. You could have died. He stares intensely into Meng Yao's eyes. I do not blame him.
"These are persimmon and jackfruit," Ting Guozhen says. Both he and Xichen turn to look at her. "They add sugar and substance to the mixture as well as taste. The cold will assist in numbing the pain in his throat."
Wen Ruohan nods, seeming satisfied with the explanation so far.
Did Xiao Xingchen get away? Meng Yao askes
He did. Wen Ruohan is sending out many search parties after him. We are also double and triple checking everyone close by. Xichen frowns. Someone is out to hurt you. I can't believe I let them get to you.
Meng Yao starts to shake his head, then stops when pain rips through his neck. In the background, Ting Guozhen is saying something about peanuts. Meng Yao is choosing to ignore her for now.
It is not your fault! Like you said, it was completely unexpected. And I'm fine. See?
"But you still got hurt," Xichen whispers. He's leaning down so he can drop kisses on his cheek
"I will also add a bit of water for hydration," Ting Guozhen finishes.
"Have a drink yourself first," his father says firmly. "Otherwise I will not permit it."
The healer visibly rolls her eyes, but Wen Ruohan just stares drillingly into her until she lifts the cup she poured her mixture into and takes a small drink.
"Here, let me help you sit up," Xichen says.
The next stretch of time is a blur. He drains the cup handed to him. It tastes smooth, and like peanuts. Xichen flushes red, and Ting Guozhen is saying something about dual cultivation. Wen Ruohan also is saying something. It all feels very far away, very foggy, very drift-y. Then someone picks him up.
It's nice to rest his head on their warm shoulder. They're holding on very tightly, but it doesn't hurt. Or, if it does, he can't feel it over how much his neck hurts.
"Here," Xichen says. They're in their room. Their bedroom. His husband is pulling back the blanket. Wen Ruohan is carrying him. "Let's get you under the blanket."
Wen Ruohan situates him carefully on the bed, and tucks him in. Meng Yao hasn't been tucked in since he was a child. Xichen sits on the other side of him, on top of the blankets.
A pair of dry lips press a kiss to his forehead. "Rest," Wen Ruohan says. "Whatever fears you have running through that brilliant mind, discard them. You lived, Yao'er, you didn't leave me. Your father loves you and is very, very proud of you."
He's misinterpreted Meng Yao's fear and confusion again. Has he? He's too exhausted to puzzle out what it is he's scared of, and why. He's just scared.
I'm right here, it's alright, A-Yao, Xichen writes. He puts a hand over his shoulder.
The thick quilt is pulled up even more by Wen Ruohan, until it's right under his chin. He kisses Meng Yao's head a second time and gently strokes his hair. "I know you fear me rescinding my love over every little thing," he says. "I suppose I will just have to keep proving to you that my love is not as conditional as the likes of Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangshan. You believe that Wen Xichen loves you, eventually you'll come to believe me too."
A powerful flood of exhaustion washes over him. He isn't compromised. He's fine. He hurts. He wants to sleep.
You can rest, Xichen writes. I will be right here, watching over you.
Wen Ruohan traces his fingers over Meng Yao's eyelids. They close automatically. "Sleep, now. Just sleep."
Yes, sleep, Xichen encourages.
Meng Yao sleeps.
He wakes when Xichen jumps to his feet, Shuoyue half out of her sheath, because someone is opening the door.
"It's only me," a voice whispers. It takes Meng Yao a moment to place it. Longwei.
Xichen sheathes Shuoyue. "What brings you here?"
"I wanted to tell you about the increased guard around your rooms," he says. "And to tell you that you can get some sleep. Nothing and no one is going to be disturbing you."
Xichen says something in response, but Meng Yao is already mostly asleep again.
The next time he wakes, there's a faint bit of light glowing around the edges of the curtains and Xichen is finger combing his hair. There are little lovely sparks coming out of his fingers and settling into Meng Yao, settling him down. But also waking him up? He ought to know what this is.
"Morning," Meng Yao says fuzzily, raking his eyes over his husband. "It is."
With a light chuckle, Xichen sweeps some hair behind his ear. He's still wearing his night robes, and his hair is swept into a messy braid over one shoulder. "It is. It's just about five. Did you sleep well?"
"I think so. No dreams." His voice is still a little hoarse and raspy. "My neck hurts."
Xichen runs a gentle finger over the raw patch of skin. "I'm just about done giving you the qi transfusion Healer Ting prescribed. Once I am finished, would you like me to use the same technique I use on your shoulder? Healer Ting said it would be effective for the pain in your neck."
That makes sense, yes. The lovely settling-waking-rejuvinating feeling is his husband's qi. "Yes, please. If it isn't too much trouble."
Xichen kisses him, feathery-delicate, and transfers just a bit more qi to him that way. "You are never trouble, A-Yao. But even if you were, you would be more than worth it."
Meng Yao sighs and relaxes into the pillow, too tired and reeling from the way the jittery-sharp agony in his neck quiets down. He loves the feeling of Xichen's cultivation, whether it's inside him when they make love or brushing over his skin to soothe his hurts.
"How is that?" Xichen whispers after a moment or two. "Is it helping?"
"Yes," Meng Yao murmurs. He feels a little loopy again, a little delirious with the lack of pain. "Kiss me."
With a little chuckle, his husband drops a chaste kiss on his lips. "You can sleep, A-Yao. It is still early. I'm here."
"Mmm," Meng Yao agrees, and throws his arms around Xichen's neck. "Hold me. You are the best bed."
Not even the way his chest moves when he laughs changes the fact that Xichen is absolutely the best bed.
The next time he wakes, it's to Xichen gently stroking his face, and whispering to him. "A-Yao? A-Yao, wake up, love. There's breakfast."
His eyelids still feel heavy, but he drags them open. "Is everything alright?"
"Everything is fine," he assures him. His husband is dressed casually, in a simple robe. His hair is up in a plain and unadorned topknot. "Your father, and Wanyin, are out in the sitting room. Do you think you could get up? Healer Ting brought you another of those odd mashed-up fruit drinks, and some medication."
Slowly he pushes himself up, onto his hands, and swings his feet to the floor. He's wearing a loose sleeping robe, one with a wide collar. He's glad for it, the idea of fabric rubbing against his raw skin makes him want to cry.
"Here," Xichen says, draping another robe over his shoulders. It's one of Xichen's thicker sleep robes, and it dwarfs him.
"How did you know I was cold?" Meng Yao askes, drawing it tight around himself. He's fairly sure this is the robe his husband slept in. It smells like him. Meng Yao never wants to put it down or wear anything else.
"You're shivering," Xichen points out.
"Oh. I didn't notice."
His eyes smile, just a bit. He offers his arm. "Shall we?"
Meng Yao worries his lip. "Let me put up my hair first. I don't want to seem untidy."
Xichen looks like he's about to argue, but he doesn't. "Let me do it. You shouldn't be straining your neck."
Meng Yao acquiesces. He's probably right. He also loves it when his husband plays with his hair, though he's not said it out loud. Xichen knows.
Once his hair is wound into a tidy bun on the back of his head, he accepts Xichen's offered arm. He feels steady enough, but he's glad for the closeness all the same.
"Yao'er," Wen Ruohan says, standing up to greet him. On his left, Wanyin leaps to his feet and dashes over to inspect Meng Yao.
"I'm fine," he says, gently batting his hands away. "Although. I'm very sorry, Wanyin. Please forgive me."
He raises an eyebrow, and his mouth opens, but no sounds come out. He yanks his writing block out of his sleeve and writes what in the world are you sorry for?
"I let Zidian be taken from me."
Wanyin probably-- hopefully-- already knew that. Meng Yao hopes Wen Ruohan brought him up to speed. He still feels the need to apologize, right here, to his face. Meng Yao was trusted with a precious artifact, a family heirloom, all Wanyin had left of his mother. And Meng Yao lost it.
But he stubbornly shakes his head and throws his arms around Meng Yao, half embracing Xichen in the process as well.
"He is not angry with you," Wen Ruohan says. "Come, let him sit down, my lotus. Yao'er shouldn't be on his feet."
They all fuss over him. Wanyin fluffs the oddly thick cushion he's meant to kneel on before he's allowed to sit. Xichen stays right at his side, making sure the robe over his shoulders doesn't slip but also doesn't brush his tender neck. Wen Ruohan slides a tall carved cup across the table at him.
"Drink," he says. "You must be hungry."
He is. He's ravenous.
The mixture is good. It's more filling than he expected, and it tastes slightly sweet and creamy. It's gone within a minute.
"There's more," Xichen says, opening up a small box papered in ice talismans and refilling the cup. "Healer Ting said to drink as much as you can stand."
"Thank you."
As he slowly drains his cup for the second time, he listens to Xichen and Wen Ruohan talk about Xiao Xingchen. So far, there's been no progress. Nobody has managed to find him. They still have no idea how he escaped. In short, they've learned absolutely nothing.
"How are you feeling, Yao'er?" Wen Ruohan asks after Meng Yao sets down his empty cup.
"My neck hurts," he admits. "I'm tired and overall, I imagine this is what it feels like to be trampled by a horse. Aside from that I am fine."
Wen Ruohan pushes a sachet across the table to him. "Chew on these, it will help. They are from Healer Ting."
Meng Yao chews and swallows the bitter leaves, and washes them down with the last of his drink. He feels exhausted, too exhausted to really be anxious.
His father stands up and kisses Meng Yao's head. "I have a few things to attend to," he says. "I will leave A-Cheng here to keep you company, and to help Huan'er with taking care of you."
With that, he leaves.
The instant the door is shut behind him, Wanyin takes out his writing block and paper, slamming it down on the table. He starts writing frantically, gesturing for Xichen to come look over his shoulder, and probably to read out loud as he writes.
"He isn't upset with you over Zidian," Xichen reads off the paper.
Wanyin gestures impatiently with his hand, still scribbling.
"I'll just read as you go, then," Xichen says sheepishly. "'I have a theory about Xiao Xingchen'," Xichen reads. "'It might be crazy. Just hear me out'."
Xichen pauses and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Of course we will hear you out, Wanyin."
Meng Yao nods. Then cringes, because the tug on the injured skin of his neck is almost too much to bear without tears. "Any theories are good to have."
Crinkling his brow, Wanyin starts writing again. "'There are only five current masters of Zidian, either still alive or did not have their mastership revoked before they died. These are me, my mother, my father, my sister, and Wei Wuxian'."
Meng Yao winces at a little thrum of pain coming from his neck. "Only you and Miss Jiang still live," he points out.
Wanyin nods. "'It is possible to fool Zidian into thinking that someone with mastership is present when they aren't. It requires--'" Xichen cuts himself off, face paling. "Sorry. 'It requires consuming some piece of someone who has mastership of Zidian'."
Meng Yao frowns, torn between curiosity and the need to reassure his husband. He looks so aghast. "Would blood work, perhaps?"
"'You would need to drink more than a bucketful.'" Wanyin grimaces at his paper like he is trying to find the right words.
"Would other, er, bodily fluids be more potent?" Xichen asks delicately, ears flushing. He seems to find that a much less horrifying prospect than the blood Meng Yao proposed.
"'No, you would need to drink even more of that then you would blood. The most likely way it was done was with flesh.'"
"Flesh?" Meng Yao goes tense. "I assume you're thinking that Xiao Xingchen was able to get enough of a sample to fool Zidian from you. Did Xiao Xingchen bite a piece out of you? Are you injured?"
An awful expression twists Wanyin's face. He looks more like a feral dog that's had one too many meals stolen from it rather than his friend.
"Wanyin?" Xichen asks when he doesn't start writing again. His husband's knuckles are white and he's faintly shaking. "Are you well?"
Jerking back to life, Wanyin slams a new paper down on the table and writes furiously. Before Xichen can read it, he raises it and shows it to Meng Yao.
Not me. I think that fucker found some piece of Wei Wuxian.
Xichen pales and abruptly sits down next to Meng Yao. "I... I had believed his body was cremated."
Wanyin snarls again with all his teeth. Wen Ruohan kept part of him. Hands. Some organs. And his sword. He stops writing to flex his hand. They were preserved under stasis talisman. I don't know where he keeps them but I know he has them. Or had them. I think Xiao Xingchen stole them and ate them at some point, recently or not, it doesn't matter. It would give him spiritual energy that Zidian would recognize as my brother's. It's the only reason I can think of that he would be able to wield Zidian.
Xichen has gone from pale to a sickly green.
"I don't know how I could ask if they've been stolen," Meng Yao muses slowly. He squeezes Xichen's hand. "Since I was never told about this particular...prize that my father kept, he probably never intended me to know. If I mention that you told me, it could land you in hot water again."
Xichen squeezes back. "This might be an enemy we must face as a united front with Wen Ruohan," he says quietly. "If Xiao Xingchen was really willing to go so far as to debase an already badly debased corpse as a means to his ends, that makes him a powerful foe. And it appears his grudge against Wen Ruohan extends to you as well, A-Yao."
I agree with Zewu-jun. Wanyin's jaw is tight. We were taken off guard. We don't know what he is capable of or who he is working with.
"It is possible," Meng Yao ventures, "that he simply wanted to be free. And now that he has accomplished that, we will never see him again."
"It is possible," Xichen concedes. "But consider the death of Daozhang Song. And the months of torment he suffered here. Do you really think he'll decide against revenge?"
Wanyin vigorously shakes his head. Even with his mind in complete disarray, which I think was probably an act or a self-defense mechanism now, he didn't seem like the kind to let things go.
Unfortunately, that matches up with Meng Yao's assessment. And especially with the calm, capable man who confronted him inside that bloodstained cell.
"Perhaps he was able to seal away much of his consciousness somehow until an opportune moment," Xichen theorizes. "That could be the purpose of the bizarre blood array. Or maybe the death of Daozhang Song simply pushed him over the edge and he had to act."
Meng Yao is starting to ache. His head, especially, objects to this much strenuous thinking, which is worrisome. He needs to be able to do strenuous thinking on a regular basis. That, and the pain medication is finally doing it's work. He appreciates the lack of pain, but the fog in his mind, not so much.
"Regardless, the how is not incredibly important anymore," Xichen says in response to something Wanyin wrote. "What matters is what we plan to do next."
Wen Ruohan isn't going to let anyone near either of you for a while, Wanyin writes. For once I think he's doing something good.
"For now, I suppose we have to wait." Meng Yao sighs. He hates waiting when there is so much he doesn't know. "We will have to see what happens next and prepare as best we can."
Notes:
Hey guys. I've got something of a small personal update for you, but since I know trauma dumping in the author's notes is no good and not all readers will be interested in the details, I'll put elaboration in the comments if you don't want to have to deal with it. Long story short, this fic is going on a brief hiatus (this and the update to the wangxian extra are all I can get out right now).
Chapter 45: Meng Yao almost wishes he had the time to feel restless
Notes:
Hello, my lovely lovely readers. Yes, it's been a hot second. I'm still kicking, still working on this series. I have found myself at the bottom of a very deep hole of writer's block with this fic specifically, but I'm fucking determined. I am so determined to finish this series. It's just going to be slow in coming, because 2023 as a year has not been kind to me at all and I'm moving very slowly right now, and struggling to get into my Meng Yao voice/headspace from which I write this fic. I really appreciate everyone's patience with the slow updates. They will keep coming!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It takes two weeks for Meng Yao's neck to heal. The scarring is very faint, and localized only to the places where the lash came into contact with his skin. Just looking at him, it's almost impossible to tell his neck is scarred. He's glad for that.
Wen Ruohan insists on a banquet to celebrate, which Meng Yao manages to talk down to a small dinner between family and close friends. He prefers that. Being in a position where something as lavish as an entire banquet could be thrown just to commemorate the healing of an injury scares him, a little bit. Not only because of how much he liked the idea at first.
"This room is absolutely lovely," Sisi says, clasping her hands. She sits on the other side of A-Huan, and next to her are Qin Su and Qin Cangye.
"It truly is," Xichen agrees. "So full of beautiful art."
They're in Wen Ruohan's entertainment room, where he receives guests and eats. It's bedecked in tapestries and canvases, some ancient and some modern. This is the first time Sisi has been here.
It's been so long since he was last able to sit down and have dinner with Sisi. For the most part, this truly does feel like a family dinner rather than the massive public affair Wen Ruohan originally wanted. Meng Yao isn't sure how he feels about it, even still. Most of Wen Ruohan's guard is here. Tieyun, thankfully, is apparently occupied with something he can't take time away from. Cai Shuili also doesn't join them. No one has seen much of him at social events since his husband's death. Good. Meng Yao hopes he stays far away for a long time. Preferably until the end of his life.
"I've been working on something new," Qisen is telling the emperor. "But I think I have hit a wall."
"How so?" Meng Yao asks. He's half leaning on Xichen, comfortable and glad for his strong presence. Meng Yao knows very little about Qisen, and he'll take this chance to learn more about him.
"I'm trying to develop a talisman for effective long-distance communication," he explains. "But every material I try to write on proves too delicate. Rice paper, silk, bamboo fibers, they all disintegrate before the message reaches the intended destination."
Meng Yao taps his chin. "Have you tried writing it on bleached hemp?"
Qisen's eyebrows shoot uo. "Bleached hemp? I've never used that for talismans before."
Meng Yao has. Many times. All of them were letters for Xichen. "It works," he says, glad that no one asks him to back up this claim. "And it's more likely to last over long distances and through the elements."
"Brilliant and practical as always," Wen Fuhe says. "I never would have even considered such a thing."
Meng Yao and Wen Qisen talk a little bit more about how the talisman works. Meng Yao suggests reinforcing the folds in the talisman with stitches, since it is made of fabric, after all. In the matrix, Xichen tells him that shaping the talisman into a small bug would likely help it move faster and go unnoticed. Meng Yao recommends Qisen try folding and stitching the talisman into a mantis, another suggestion that makes his eyes light up.
"Truly my prince is brilliant," he says again.
The evening is drawing to a close. Servants bring dessert, which is a sweet cream and bean paste wrapped in soft mochi. He feels lazy, and sleepy, especially with Xichen's arm around his waist.
"Are you full, A-Yao?" He asks softly, tugging him close.
"I think so," he says out loud. He's tempted to tease Xichen a bit in the matrix, that he could stand to be just a little bit fuller. But. Wen Ruohan knows about the matrix now.
The emperor seemed to believe Meng Yao when he said the purpose of the matrix is chiefly to soothe his anxiety. He also believes that they've only had it for a few weeks. Meng Yao explained that he developed it in the days after that disastrous appointment with Wen Qing, the one where he panicked so terribly. He's proud of that lie. He came up with it while half-asleep and beyond exhausted. And it worked.
"If you are amenable to the idea, I would very much enjoy continuing to work with you, my prince," Qisen says.
Wen Ruohan nods, and gestures with his chopsticks. "I think that would be a good idea, Yao'er. Something to help keep you from getting restless."
Meng Yao almost wishes he had the time to feel restless. He's tired, and he's run somewhat ragged with all the work he's having to do lately. And all the work on top of the work he's doing, to hide his work from his father.
"Alright," he says to Qisen. "Although I do not think I will be much help to you. My cultivational base is still…" he pauses. "I am sure I know nothing that a master such as yourself does not also know."
Wen Ruohan taps the edge of his plate with his chopsticks. "I have been remiss in not offering you more chances to improve your cultivation, my son. Where would you like to start?"
Xichen's arm around his shoulders tightens, and he leans a bit on the matrix. He probably wants to speak up.
Go ahead, Meng Yao tells him.
"I have been working with A-Yao on this exact subject for quite some time," he says.
"Ah, I see!" Wen Ruohan smiles broadly. "I should have known. You have much teaching experience, Huan'er, and are a cultivator without equal."
They haven't been doing anything of the sort, but Meng Yao feels a flicker of pride in his husband's quick thinking. He knows that Meng Yao is busy, and doesn't want to spend any more energy on keeping up appearances in the fire palace than he has to. If he thinks that Xichen is giving him cultivation lessons behind closed doors, he won't insist on Meng Yao attending any where he can see.
"Well, I want you to always feel comfortable in coming to me if you need any further instruction," Wen Fuhe says. "Though I understand you may be more comfortable with Wen Huan."
Meng Yao looks down into his lap. He is, he's always more comfortable with A-Huan. His uncle correctly interprets his awkward fidgeting, and drops the subject with an indulgent smile.
The conversation shifts back to happenings around the palace. Meng Yao leans into A-Huan and closes his eyes.
Thank you. That was very clever.
He kisses his hair. "Are you tired, A-Yao?"
Meng Yao nods. He feels sleepy and lazy, in the way he sometimes does when he gets a good, full meal in him. It's been a very long time since he was last starving, but his body still remembers what that was like. And he still hoards the sensation of being satiated greedily.
"Ah, Yao'er," Wen Ruohan says. "There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about. I hate to disturb you when you look so peaceful, but I have waited on this long enough."
Meng Yao pushes himself off A-Huan, opening his eyes. "What is it, a-die?" His heart rate picks up a bit, enough to jolt him out of his sleepiness.
"While you were resting, I finally had time to look over the proposal you gave me in detail."
He sits up ramrod straight. The watchtowers? He wasn't expecting to hear about those for another few weeks…
The emperor gestures, and a servant comes to clear away his empty plate. Reaching into his sleeve, Wen Ruohan takes out a few rolled up pieces of paper and spreads them on the table. It is his watchtower proposal!
"These are absolutely brilliant, Yao'er," Wen Ruohan says. Meng Yao briefly whites out.
He likes them. He thinks it's a good idea. He's looked over Meng Yao's plans carefully and he thinks they're brilliant.
"Now that the Wen is an empire, it stands to reason we should spread out our imperial presence." He taps something on the proposal summary. "I am particularly impressed with your criteria to vet potential cultivators to be stationed at each tower. It is very thorough, and an excellent metric with which to tell if a cultivator is loyal or not."
Meng Yao's method of determining whether or not a cultivator is fit for duty at a watchtower is fairly simple, actually. There are a few short tests to see how they treated the common people, and another few to determine how willing they are to defer to authority.
"I looked over it as well," Xing Longwei adds. "It is extremely well thought out. I think it should be implemented immediately."
Meng Yao starts. "Do you have any alterations, a-die?"
Wen Ruohan smooths down the paper. "Nothing major, my son. A few minor clarifications, but you have truly put together something impressive." He smiles, and reaches over to gently pat Meng Yao on the head. It's a struggle not to lean into the touch. He definitely loses the battle this time.
"I agree with Longwei, I think this system will be very effective in speeding up communication, and in monitoring some of the outermost provinces," Wen Fuhe says.
"It could also help with making sure the entire empire has enough food and water year-round, is that correct?" Qin Su speaks up. Meng Yao is surprised, up until now she has done very little beyond sit quietly by her father.
"You are exactly correct, A-Su," Wen Ruohan says warmly. "With a system such as this, if any village needs aid, we will know much sooner."
"And it will also assist in being able to dispatch cultivators faster to any issues with fierce corpses or hauntings that may arise far from here," Xichen puts in. "I am very pleased you all see the value of this proposal."
"Of course, of course," Wen Fuhe says. "Huoyao, your husband is as insightful and kind as always."
Meng Yao squeezes Xichen's hand.
"I do have one small suggestion, but I would like to hear your thoughts on it, Yao'er." Wen Ruohan drums his fingers on the paper, thudding against the table through it. "I believe it would be beneficial in our search for Xiao Xingchen if we get started on this right away. I would like to send one trusted cultivator to each location, and have them oversee the construction of the tower they will be stationed at."
He's a bit shocked that Wen Ruohan is asking his opinion. He could just make the changes, there is no reason for him to be running it by Meng Yao like this. And yet, he is.
"I agree," he says, because he can't think of any reason to oppose it. Catching Xiao Xingchen will, at least, ease some of Xichen's fears and appease his father's paranoia.
"I still don't understand how Xiao Xingchen was able to escape in the first place," Zhan Xingxi says. The young guard's eyes are fixed on his food, which he doesn't appear to have eaten much of at all. "He always seemed…" he pauses, as if searching for the right word. "He always seemed very sedate."
Wen Ruohan nods. "I have spent plenty of time on this thought myself." He rolls up the papers with Meng Yao's watchtower information on them and tucks them carefully into his sleeve. "The most obvious conclusion is that Xue Yang must have done the mindshaper process incorrectly."
Beside him, Xichen shudders a bit. It's tiny enough that he almost thinks he imagined it.
"I have to admit that I still don't entirely understand how the mindshaper works," Longwei speaks up.
Wen Ruohan nods, slow and thoughtful. "To make the effects last long-term, the mindshaper is a two part process. There is the liquid, of course, which must be ingested. And then there is also a talisman that must be used, in order to make the effects truly stick in the long term. I supervised Xue Yang the first time he used the mindshaper on Xiao Xingchen, but after that I did not observe again. I imagine that Xue Yang must have done the talisman portion improperly, and that is why he was able to regain his mind. I do not think it is a coincidence that this happened so soon after the incident with Daozhang Song." Wen Ruohan sighs. "I underestimated the strength of his mind."
"We all did," Wen Fuhe says solemnly.
Meng Yao holds tight to Xichen's hand under the table. "Have you used this method on all your concubines, a-die?" He has to know.
"Only Xingxing and A-Cheng," he answers easily. "Xingxing was more of an experiment, perhaps a trial run for A-Cheng. I believe I have mentioned this before, at least to some of you, but I am hoping within a few years to be able to promote A-Cheng to my second imperial consort."
Meng Yao remembers being told this, and judging by Qin Cangye's lack of reaction, he also was aware. He'd not yet put together that Wen Ruohan was using the drug to try and mold him into some ideal consort, though. Does Wanyin know about Wen Ruohan's intentions? It is unlikely that Wen Ruohan would have told him outright.
"Well, it truly was a fine dinner," Luo Xianbian says. "I think it's about time to turn in, though."
"I agree," Zhan Xingxi says. Out of the corner of his eye, Meng Yao spots Sisi hiding a yawn.
"I think we are all quite tired," Meng Yao says.
Wen Ruohan dismisses them, but not before kissing the top of Meng Yao's head again. "Sleep well," he murmurs into his hair.
As they step out of the room, Xing Longwei follows. "Allow me to escort you back to your rooms," he says, glancing at Daiyu.
This is not that unusual nowadays. The reminder of Meng Yao's mortality has stirred something in his father's guards. Daiyu seldom is the only one shadowing him and Xichen outside their rooms now. Honestly, he's glad it's Xing Longwei, and not Chu Bingwen or Wen Qisen. Chu Bingwen is still endlessly unpleasant to be around, even when he's clearly trying to be nice. Meng Yao is fairly sure the older man doesn't know the meaning of the word. For his part, Wen Qisen hardly speaks, he just stares. Meng Yao cannot read him at all and he does not like it.
Xing Longwei is easier. He takes no delight in causing confusion or pain. He's repulsed by torture. Sure, he's a bit pompous, but in a genuine and paternal way. And he isn't nearly so hard for Meng Yao to read either.
Daiyu says nothing about him accompanying them. She probably appreciates it. Daiyu is as worked up, in her own sedate and plain way, over the issue of Meng Yao's safety as Xichen. Like his husband, she knows all about the dangers they expect. Like both Meng Yao and Xichen, she was utterly blindsided by this. And, also like Xichen, she feels like she is to blame. He knows that Daiyu and Wen Xu were incredibly close, not romantically or sexually, just--close. His death dealt a soul-deep wound to Daiyu that might never heal. She would not survive the loss of another friend, even though Meng Yao knows he is nowhere near a substitute for the person she called a soulmate.
So she accepts Longwei's help without complaint, even though it probably wounds her pride.
Once they reach Xichen and Meng Yao's rooms, he means to bid them both goodnight. But Xing Longwei steps forward and makes an awkward little questioning noise.
"Ah-- I do not wish to intrude on your rest, Huoyao," he says. "However, there is something I would like to discuss with you, if you are willing."
Daiyu's body goes tense. "Shixiong, can it not wait until morning?" She asks. "It is getting late."
"I wouldn't keep you," Longwei says to her. "I'll do the patrol around Huoyao's rooms before I leave. Please go get some rest."
Meng Yao nods at her. "It's alright, Daiyu. I am not so tired that I have no time for my father's closest confidants."
She gives him another firm, slow look, but agrees. She does look tired. Apparently she hasn't been sleeping well lately. Meng Yao is fairly sure that, after the war, nobody who fought on even a single battlefield sleeps well every night.
He ushers Longwei inside. "Have a seat," he says, and then realizes quickly he has no idea how to address Longwei. He isn't Wen Ruohan's sworn brother, despite being his close friend. He cannot default to uncle as he does with Wen Fuhe. He has no idea how old Xing Longwei is-- he doesn't even know how old his own father is, even, so that gives him no frame of reference. Would something too formal put him off?
As Meng Yao ponders, Xichen coaxes them both to sit at the table. And he surprises Meng Yao by forgoing all all titles and niceties. "What is it you wanted to discuss?"
Xing Longwei smiles, but it looks thin and uneasy. Not offended, though. "Cutting directly to the point, Zewu-jun, I see. I will not keep you too long."
By the shifting of his arms, Meng Yao can tell he is fidgeting in his lap, or maybe even outright wringing his hands. This is not a man who has ever had to conceal his emotions. He wears them so openly he may as well be shouting.
"You're a sensible young man, Huoyao," he says. "A credit to your parents. Surely you've already expanded on everything great they have accomplished."
It's as unbalancing as ever, but Xing Longwei didn't come all the way here just to praise him. That would make no sense, even when considering Longwei's odd and gentle character.
"Thank you, Xing-laoshi," he says before he can think better of it.
An open smile spreads briefly over the guard's face. A good choice, then. It doesn't last long before he seems to remember whatever it is he's upset about and goes back to fretting.
"Yes, you're smart and powerful, but above all, you're kind. That's why I'm here."
Meng Yao would like to disagree. Kindness does not come naturally to him. All he knows of it are the distant lessons of it he received from his mother and the more recent demonstrations of it from Xichen, Jiang Yanli, and Qin Su. But he is not inherently kind. Anything kind he's done has been for their sake.
"I have concerns," Xing Longwei goes on. "I hope my prince will hear them?"
Well, Meng Yao did not anticipate becoming an impromptu mindhealer, but he's much too curious to say no.
"Go ahead, Xing-laoshi."
He's openly fidgeting now. "This is something I have discussed, before the war, with Shanyu. At length."
Shanyu. That's Wen Xu's courtesy name, he remembers.
"Ruohan is a good leader," Xing Longwei goes on. "He is fair to his subjects and more than able to keep things under control even in the worst of times. But it cannot be denied that he has his... unrighteous quirks."
Unrighteous quirks? That's certainly not what he would call his father's blatant enjoyment of conquest, rape, torment, torture, and humiliation. Next to him, Xichen tenses. Meng Yao squeezes his hand. He's in agreement, what Wen Ruohan did to Lan Wangji was much more than an unrighteous quirk.
"Please do not misunderstand me," Xing Longwei continues. "I do not mean this as a slight against your father, my sect leader and emperor and friend. It is simply that I believe you would be a better leader than him, Huoyao."
If he were holding anything he would've dropped it. His hand only remains in Xichen's because his husband responds to this statement by tensing, in contrast to Meng Yao abruptly feeling all his muscle control melt away.
What?
"Before the war, everyone knew of these quirks I speak of, but he was less inclined to act on them. Even so, Shanyu and I often discussed ways to convince Ruohan to step down. Now, he's taken an unwilling harem." He tuts. "First the loss of his wife, and then his two eldest. I do think it broke something inside him. Your presence is what kept him sane, what keeps him sane."
Meng Yao is choking on air. He's...what?
"Xing Longwei," he manages to get out even though his lungs feel empty, "are you implying that I ought to overthrow my father?"
He turns white. "Oh, goodness, no, nothing like that. Forgive me if I gave that impression." Xing Longwei leans forward a bit. "Of course I would never suggest such a thing. Truthfully, I'm largely motivated by worry for him." The wide darkness of his eyes tells Meng Yao he believes what he's saying. "After all he has been through, all these years, everyone he has lost, using the Yin iron, and now taking on the mantle of emperor, I think it is too much for him." He sighs. "I am not asking you to take any action, and I would also ask that you keep this conversation between us. But I believe that if Ruohan could be convinced to step down and retire, it would be best for him. You would be a more than worthy replacement. You have all his good qualities and more."
He's pretty sure his mouth is open. "I...have tortured before," he says slowly.
"On your sect leader and father's orders, which filial piety directs you to obey. And still it repulsed you."
He did tell Xing Longwei about that, didn't he? During the whole debacle with Xue Yang, right before Sisi came home. Damn it.
The guard stands, and bows. "Again, I am not asking you to take any action. As a friend and confidant to your father, it is something I merely wanted to bring to your attention.
Notes:
Yes, Shi Daiyu and Wen Xu are both aroace and soulmates and did I make myself irrationally sad thinking about this? Yep.
Chapter 46: I think that is the most humane thing we can possibly do
Summary:
Meng Yao pays Jiang Yanli a visit, and gets to do something he's been wanting to for a long time.
Notes:
CW for attempted assault (unsuccessful) and minor character death
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
While this isn't the first time Meng Yao has been down in the basement of Jiang Yanli's little cottage, the heaviness in the air still startles him. She's done a remarkable job with her barriers. From the outside, no one can possibly feel the sheer amount of resentful energy here. It can only be accessed from the inside.
The resentment itself is congealed around a shape chained to a table. The last time Meng Yao was here, the creature chained there was a snarling, ferocious animal. The time before that, it was a lifeless corpse. But now, there's a light in those eyes. The result of Jiang Yanli's weeks of work, with occasional help from Xichen and Qin Su. A miracle, honestly, that the three of them managed to accomplish this. Her sect may be mostly gone, but clearly the eldest daughter of Jiang has kept their sect motto close to her heart.
"He's still a bit hazy," Jiang Yanli explains. "But he can speak now, and answer questions."
At Meng Yao's side, Qin Su hums. "Daozhang Song? Can you hear me?"
"Where…" he croaks, and Jiang Yanli rushes to hold a ladle of something up to his lips.
"This will ease the pain," she says gently. Whatever it is, Song Zichen drinks it, and coughs a bit. "Good, you're doing wonderfully," she praises.
"Where am I?" He asks once the ladle is empty, his voice sounding less painfully grating now.
"You are in my basement," Jiang Yanli says. "I know it hurts, it hurts a lot, but you're safe. How much do you remember?"
Is keeping him in this un-life really humane? Xichen asks in the matrix, his hand tightening its grip on Meng Yao's.
We will see what it is he wants, now that his consciousness is back, Meng Yao says. I think that is the most humane thing we can possibly do.
Xichen gives a tiny nod.
Yanli spends a little while clarifying things for Song Zichen, until finally he comes to the dreaded question.
"Where is Xingchen?"
An uneasy silence weighs on the room. With the added weight of the resentment already there, it's nearly crushing.
"Is he dead?"
Wanyin shuffles forward, and nods at his sister, who takes his hand and squeezes it.
"We aren't sure," Yanli admits. She explains how he escaped, and how they have no idea where he is. After a brief hesitation that Daozhang Song definitely picks up on, she tells him also about how he nearly killed Meng Yao during his escape.
By the time she's done explaining, the fierce corpse is crying thick black tears. She wipes his cheeks with a cloth, and removes the chains holding him down. Song Zichen sits up, rubbing his wrists.
"Everything feels numb," he mutters. "Numb and far away. But at least Xingchen is free." He glances to Meng Yao for a brief moment, then looks back at Yanli. "May I go search for him?"
Her eyes harden. "I will not keep you here, or anywhere, against your will. However, we could use your help here in Nightless City."
Having a fierce corpse on their side would be invaluable. He could move silently and unseen underground, and even sneak into Wen Ruohan's corpse army to get them information.
Song Zichen glances to each of them as they explain this. Part of Meng Yao wants to insist that he stay here, and help them, but Yanli was firm. He would assist them only if he agreed to it. Which, if he said no, it shouldn't be a massive setback. Meng Yao was just looking forward to getting more concrete numbers on the corpse army, which he's never actually laid eyes on. They are dormant in the catacombs deep under the fire palace, they've been that way since the war ended.
"I will stay, at least for a few days," Song Zichen finally says.
His heart swoops in relief.
"Thank you," Yanli says. "I very much appreciate it."
Song Zichen tries to stand, but his legs wobble. Yanli and Wanyin push him back onto the table before he can topple completely to the ground, though.
"You still need to rest," Yanli says. "Your body has dealt with a lot lately. You will not need much sleep once you're healed, but for now it's a good idea to take it easy." Turning, she flaps her hand at them. "It's best if he has some space, I think."
Meng Yao bows. Qin Su and Xichen follow his lead. "Thank you for all your hard work, Miss Jiang," Meng Yao says.
They leave. Wanyin stays with his sister, since he still has time before someone comes to pick him up and bring him back to the harem.
Xichen and Qin Su, fast friends, walk on either side of him. It's a lovely day outside the cottage, the light fading to a warm gold as the sun begins to set. Daiyu is just a bit behind them, but Qin Su keeps slowing down and glancing at her until the guard matches pace with them.
"I agree," Qin Su says, her eyes sparkling. "I am very eager to visit the watchtowers, but I think I am more likely to see those that go up closer to us. I am willing to wait."
What were they talking about? The watchtowers, yes. Construction has already begun on three, but none are close to Nightless City. Only one is even in Qishan. Still, they're going up faster and with more enthusiasm than Meng Yao thought. More than he even dreamed. There's one in Yunmeng, which is being overseen primarily by a trusted friend of Daiyu and Mingxia. That knowledge seems to have put Yanli and Wanyin much more at ease with the entire concept.
"Greetings," someone says, and Meng Yao stops short.
"Tieyun," Meng Yao says. He bows, but shallowly. The guard has four other people with him, all of them younger guardsmen that Meng Yao doesn't know. "What can I do for you?"
One of the unfamiliar people with him steps forward and bows. "Maiden Su, your father-- er, Consort Qin Cangye, requests your presence. We have come to escort you back."
Qin Su looks back and forth between Meng Yao and Tieyun, her eyes narrow.
I don't want her going anywhere with Tieyun, Meng Yao writes in the matrix with Daiyu. You go with her instead. I'll handle him.
I think that is wise, she responds. Out loud, she says "I will escort Maiden Su to her father's chambers. Tieyun, you take over escorting the prince back."
Tieyun looks enormously put out, which sends a rush of relief through Meng Yao. Clearly he was planning something, and they've thwarted his plan. Good. Nobody will put their filthy hands on his little sister while he's still alive.
While Qin Su has been in on their plans for several weeks now, none of them have had the time or the safe space to tell Qin Cangye. Meng Yao is beginning to wonder if that's even a good idea. He seems close to Wen Ruohan, and they spend a lot of time together. They may even be having regular, consensual sex. Meng Yao doesn't know, and it isn't high on the list of things he needs (or even wants) to figure out.
"Are you going directly back to your rooms, my prince?" Tieyun asks, his tone unmistakably icy. "Or do you have a stop between there and here?"
Meng Yao bristles. He had been planning to go to the library and speak with Caihong, but now he wants nothing more than getting away from this terrible man.
"We are going directly back to our rooms," Xichen speaks up. Clearly he doesn't want to be around Tieyun either.
With his eyes blazing, Tieyun steps forward, right up into Xichen's space. "I didn't ask you, did I? Who do you think you are, speaking out of turn?"
One of the unfamiliar guards snickers. "Our prince shows his youth with the way he handles his concubine. Take a word of advice, your majesty, and remind him that he isn't your equal every so often."
Anger washes over Meng Yao's vision. "He is my husband," he hisses. "He is my equal. And your better."
Tieyun takes another step forward, and he's directly in Xichen's face now. Xichen still hasn't taken a step back, but there's a feeling of fearful uncertainty in their matrix.
"There are plenty of people here who can remind you what your true position here is, the instant Huoyao isn't watching," he says lowly. He reaches out and grabs a handful of Xichen's robe, pulling him closer. "Eventually--"
He doesn't get the chance to say anything else, because Meng Yao has plunged the Seer's Dagger into the back of his neck, straight down to the hilt. He goes rigid for a moment, and then his knees buckle. Xichen steps back when Tieyun's hand goes slack, and when Meng Yao withdraws the dagger, the guard falls with an incoherent cry of rage.
In the flat of the dagger, slick with blood, Meng Yao briefly sees his own face. He sees himself, dressed in white, with tears streaming down his cheeks. As he looks, the vision fades.
Are you alright?
He didn't hurt me, Xichen responds. He didn't even touch my skin, just my robe.
From behind him, Meng Yao hears a furious snarl. Xichen's head turns, just barely, and then he streaks behind Meng Yao. He barely has time to turn around and see one of the unknown guards Tieyun brought with him practically run onto Shuoyue, his own sword unsheathed.
"Drawing a weapon in the presence of the crown prince is an imperial offense," Xichen spits.
Very quickly, the other two guards sheathe their own weapons. "You killed him!" One of them shrieks, jabbing a finger at him. "Traitor!"
Meng Yao's blood freezes for a moment.
A sharp whistling noise goes over his head, and a sword buries itself into the guard's chest. Meng Yao spins around, heart pounding.
Wen Ruohan makes a brief hand seal, and his sword removes itself from the guard's chest to streak easily back into his hand.
"Well," he says. "Efficient as always, my son. His death was long overdue."
Blood roars in Meng Yao's ears.
Wen Ruohan looks at the one remaining guard. He throws himself down on his knees, forehead to the ground, spewing out apologies and begging for mercy.
“Such traitorous action against your prince and his husband,” the emperor says. He raises Baoxin again and easily beheads him. “I’m sorry that you had to take things into your own hands, Yao’er, I should have dealt with Tieyun the moment his intentions turned toward Huan’er.” He glances at the bodies strewn on the ground. Wen Ruohan brought Xing Longwei with him, who is nodding approvingly.
“You both dealt with this very well,” he says.
“Indeed,” Wen Ruohan agrees. “Well done, my son.”
Meng Yao shivers a bit, and his father sheathes Baoxin and sweeps over to him. He’s gathered up into a warm, comfortable hug. “Thank you, a-die,” he whispers. He knows that Wen Ruohan approves of Meng Yao’s more vicious and murderous side. He snuggles into his chest, closing his eyes. After a moment, Xichen joins them.
You’re alright, he writes in the matrix.
I am, Meng Yao agrees. He's furious, still, even with the perpetrators dead. First they set their sights on his sister, and when Meng Yao closed that path off they turned on his husband. Both unacceptable. He was in his rights to kill them, to kill them all.
He quickly checks in with Daiyu, who informs him that she and Qin Su have arrived safely at Qin Cangye's room. Meng Yao finally allows the tension to drain out of him.
Notes:
I am putting a small life update in the comments. Nothing earthshaking, and updates to this fic will continue to be slow but existent, so for those who aren't interested please feel free to skip!
Chapter 47: I'm proud of that boy and I've never even met him
Summary:
News comes in from the Unclean Realm.
Notes:
CW for brief discussion of past child abuse
Chapter Text
"We've lost the Unclean Realm, Excellency," the messenger says.
Wen Ruohan's fingers flutter on the hilt of his sword. Meng Yao hasn't missed that the emperor is carrying it much more frequently now.
"How?" The emperor snarls.
Meng Yao knows, already, but he sits back in Xichen's lap to listen as the messenger recounts the last five days.
"Five weeks ago, Cloud Recess was emptied," the messenger says. "All of the guards both inside and around Cloud Recess were poisoned, and the Lan fled. All the cultivators, non-cultivators, children, everyone." He wrings his hands.
"Five weeks ago?" Wen Ruohan thunders. "Why am I only hearing of this now?!"
The messenger gulps. "B-because it happened the day after check-in, your Excellency. Check-in happens every four weeks. They used this time to travel from Gusu to Qinghe, and they must have found a secret entrance into the Unclean Realm. Between the Lan cultivators, the Nie cultivators, and several others wearing colors of many other sects, it took them only a few days to completely remove all our people from the Unclean Realm."
Meng Yao, of course, already knew all the fine details. Eight days ago he received his first ever mantis talisman from Huaisang. With Meng Yao's new interest in Wen Qisen's long-distance communication efforts, he's had plenty of time to send one of his own to Qinghe, with instructions on how to duplicate it. Huaisang, sharp and clever as always, used it to inform Meng Yao and Xichen in rather vague terms of his impending plan to liberate his home.
We will be assisted by cultivators from various sects and several rogue cultivators. Beyond that, we also have a new and very unexpected ally. Once we are sure this method of communication is secure, I will tell you more about that. But for now, rest assured that we have the situation under control here and do not require any action from you.
This mysterious new ally certainly has Meng Yao's interest. Judging from the secrecy, they're probably someone pledged to the Wen empire. That's fine. They will show themselves eventually.
"We have confirmed," the messenger says, his nose buried in his scroll again, "that, aside from the Qinghe Nie and Gusu Lan, traitorous action against the empire was also taken by cultivators wearing the colors and crests of the Meishan Yu, Baixue temple, and the Lanling Jin." His throat bobs. "There were also many, many rogue cultivators, and some who may belong to sects that are too small for us to be able to identify."
Lanling Jin survivors, Xichen writes in their matrix. That is very promising to hear. I hope Jin Zixuan is among them.
"A few select individuals were spotted on the battlefield," the messenger goes on. There's a bead of sweat on his temple. "The traitors Wen Qing and Wen Ning, as well as concubine Lan Wangji and the escaped concubine Jin Zixuan, were fighting on the side of our enemy."
He can feel Xichen's joy spilling over into the matrix. His husband keeps his face admirably blank, but inside, he's cheering, and Meng Yao can't help but want to join him.
"They'll all burn for this," Wen Ruohan spits.
The messenger's fingers creak. "And... Escaped concubine Xiao Xingchen was also seen on the battlefield," he says in what's almost a terrified whisper. "Without his blindfold, and fighting with no sword, instead wieling both Zidian and resentful energy. He was able to take control of the handful of living corpses that were reinforcing the guards, and turn them against us."
What? Xiao Xingchen?!
That Xiao Xingchen is able to fight at all, after what the emperor put him through, is astonishing. That he can continue to wield Zidian, that the potential cannibalism of Wei Wuxian's body that's long past now is still fooling the weapon, and that Lan Wangji is still allowing it makes even less sense.
But... wielding resentful energy, to the point that he could take control of Wen Ruohan's own fierce corpses?
That doesn't make any sense, Meng Yao writes in the matrix, trying to sort out his thoughts. There are only three practioners of this kind of resentful energy cultivation, Jiang Yanli, Wen Ruohan, and Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian is long dead. Yanli is here, and can't extend her power all the way to Qinghe even with the tiger seal.
Xichen's fingers stroke the back of his hand. There is also Xue Yang, he writes. Who was a diligent student of both Wei Wuxian and Wen Ruohan's darker studies, and who spent no small amount of time with Xiao Xingchen.
That's an excellent point. He measures his breathing before the confusion can spike his heart rate. It's becoming more and more clear that Xiao Xingchen was never as impaired as he pretended to be. He must have learned far more from Xue Yang than Meng Yao could've guessed. He had plenty of time with unsupervised access to Xue Yang's workshop, and all his notes, too.
"Han-ge, I would like your permission to lead a force to retake the Unclean Realm," Wen Fuhe says, dipping his head. He's approached the dais while Meng Yao and Xichen were focused on their conversation in the matrix.
"Granted. I will send a few hundred of my strongest from the corpse army with you, and have General Mu assign you her best soldiers." Wen Ruohan's eyes narrow. "The corpses that were stationed in Qinghe originally were some of the weakest. I doubt a mostly broken amateur necromancer will be able to take over anything stronger."
Meng Yao swallows a bit of apprehension. Whatever is going on, he will have to keep faith in Huaisang, and the others. If Wen Fuhe goes to Qinghe, he'll almost certainly attempt to recapture Jin Zixuan, and likely Wen Qing as well. He can only hope that they will be able to evade him. And, if they also manage to take Wen Ruohan's second out of commission, that would be convenient too. How poetic would it be, if Jin Zixuan managed to be the one to do it? If he's anything like Meng Yao, he'll be eager for the chance to put a sword in one of his rapists.
All our confusion aside, Xichen writes, they really did it. Huaisang, and Zixuan and Wangji, took back the Unclean Realm. I suspect we will get messages of further clarification soon. I wish we could celebrate with them.
Meng Yao does, too.
We can have a cup of our nice cinnamon tea this evening, he suggests. The same we had at our wedding. A small celebration, just for us.
Xichen brushes his cheek against Meng Yao's temple affectionately. I like that idea.
The messenger is dismissed, his life intact, along with the majority of the spectators. General Mu is called to the throne room, along with a few others. She quickly begins rattling off names, and sending out orders, and Wen Fuhe's eyes gleam dangerously.
"Xingxi, I'd like you to come with me," Fuhe says. "Get a bit more experience under your belt, young one."
Zhan Xingxi sits up straight, his fingers white-knuckled on his bow. "Ah-- yes, of course." He looks afraid. Which is reasonable, Meng Yao thinks. A veteran of Sunshot though he may be, Zhan Xingxi is still extremely young. He's older than Meng Yao, he knows that, but not by much. He doesn't want to go back to the battlefield.
Meng Yao can't think of a way or a reason to get him out of it, though, so he remains silent. If he goes, and he dies, then that's the way it is.
"Wen-xiong," Xing Longwei says quietly, almost too quiet for Meng Yao to hear. "I have a theory, pertaining to Xiao Xingchen, and the effectiveness of sending fierce corpses."
Wen Ruohan frowns. "What is it?"
"What if he was playing us, all along? Even back before Xue Yang's theft of the tiger seal?"
The emperor's eyes go wide. "And he framed Xue Yang," he whispers.
Meng Yao smothers a startled laugh, tightly squeezing Xichen's hand in his. It's a near parallel to Xichen's theory, and without the knowledge that the seal is still in Nightless City with Miss Jiang, it makes perfect sense.
"I suspect he has the tiger seal, and has had it the entire time. I did not want to announce it earlier and cause a panic, but it is all too perfect to be a coincidence. To what end, I can't guess, but it's obvious. Xue Yang truly must not have known where the seal was being hidden."
"I agree," Wen Ruohan says. "What do you think, Yao'er?"
Meng Yao nibbles his lower lip, buying for a few moments to think. He needs to phrase this very carefully.
"Xing-laoshi is right, it seems too convenient to be a coincidence," he says, slow and thoughtful. "Perhaps, Xiao Xingchen was manipulating Xue Yang, or perhaps they were working together, and Xiao Xingchen was never as addled as he seemed."
"We will reclaim the tiger seal from him after the Unclean Realm is retaken," Wen Fuhe promises. He squeezes the emperor's arm.
He claps him on the shoulder. "I do not doubt you, didi. Go safely."
Meng Yao watches him bundle Zhan Xingxi in close to him, and they wander off, whispering, to join Mu Fenyan.
"And, before you ask, Yao'er, the answer is no," Wen Ruohan says.
Meng Yao blinks. He wasn't about to ask for anything, so what on earth is going through his father's mind? He gives him a carefully uncertain look. "I don't follow, a-die."
The emperor shifts in his throne to look at them. "You and your husband will be staying here, where it's safe."
"I was not going to ask," Meng Yao says softly. "I… even with all of A-Huan's help in strengthening my cultivation, I do not think that I am strong enough to be effective on a battlefield." He doesn't want to go to Qinghe, that would take away his ability to influence Wen Ruohan, and to protect his friends and allies here in Nightless City.
Wen Ruohan's face softens. "You have so much worth, so much skill in other places," he says gently. "But allow this father to be a bit protective. It would ease my heart to know you are home."
Meng Yao nods. "Of course."
Finally, after that, everyone is dismissed. Wen Ruohan only gives him and Xichen a cursory nod and a smile, before wandering off with Wen Fuhe and a few others. Daiyu joins them in their walk back to their room.
On the way, Sisi also joins them. She takes Meng Yao's arm, smiling.
"How are you doing?"
"I am alright, auntie. I am very shaken up that the rebels were able to run our men out of the Unclean Realm, but I have faith in Uncle Fuhe."
Sisi smiles. She has a particular smile for when they're being conspiratorial, one that Meng Yao has grown to recognize. But she doesn't say anything until they're closed safely in his and A-Huan's rooms.
Once there, though, she puts her hands on her knees and bursts out laughing.
"It sounds like Huaisang and his folks really showed them!" She chuckled. "I'm proud of that boy and I've never even met him."
"I'm proud of him too," Meng Yao says. And he is. He's seen the dramatic change that's come over Huaisang since the end of the war.
No, not since the end of the war. Since Nie Mingjue became a concubine. That was the incident that drew this single-minded, vicious focus out of what Meng Yao knew as a carefree and gentle young man.
"So, the puzzle of Xiao Xingchen continues to mystify," Xichen says thoughtfully. He sits down on the couch and drums his fingers on his knee. The expression on his face is dark. "Obviously he does not have the tiger seal, which means he is practicing demonic cultivation without it. I wonder if he is the new ally Huaisang mentioned in his last letter."
Meng Yao nods. "You're probably right, A-Huan. But we still don't know what his intentions and motivations are."
"I think it's rather clear," Sisi speaks up. "He hates the emperor and his family. It makes sense that he would throw his lot in with anyone who opposes him."
"Which means young master Nie will be able to inform him that he and Huoyao have been on the same side all along," Daiyu says. "Hopefully this means he is no longer a threat."
Meng Yao writes two quick letters, one to his father and one to Jiang Yanli. It is a request for Wanyin to attend to him tomorrow, and for Yanli to come visit at the same time. They deserve to know that Zidian is being used on the battlefield again, and by Xiao Xingchen.
Bending down, Meng Yao stretches. His back and hips are stiff from sitting so long. Even though his husband is a wonderful cushion, there's only so much that can be done to make the whole ordeal comfortable.
They have their lunch with Sisi, which is lovely. She gives him strength, and bolsters his conviction in a way he desperately needs. She's family, family who knows him. Family he is not planning to betray.
"A-Shi would be so proud of you," she says before she leaves. "So incredibly proud."
And if that little remark makes Meng Yao a little teary-eyed, that is between him and his husband. His beautiful, wonderful husband, who gathers him up and lets him hide his tears against his shoulder.
"I did not know your mother," Xichen says, stroking his hair, "but I am inclined to agree with Madam Sisi. You are a good man, and a credit to your mother."
Is he? Meng Yao hasn't quite managed to achieve most of the items on the list of things his mother wished for him. He never was acknowledged by Jin Guangshan, he never became a Jin cultivator. Even though he has arguably done better than that, it isn't the letter of what Meng Shi wished.
But no one knew his mother better than Sisi. If she thinks his actions would make her proud, she is probably right.
It takes Meng Yao a good fifteen minutes to truly stop crying. Xichen wipes his tears and kisses him, and doesn't make an issue out of it. It's something Meng Yao deeply appreciates.
"You're my rock," Meng Yao whispers, catching Xichen's hand when it lifts to cup his cheek and nuzzling into the palm. "You are my light. Without you here, by my side, loving me and knowing me, I would have been lost long ago."
Xichen smiles. "I have faith in your conviction, my love. I know you would have done the right thing, regardless of me."
Meng Yao doesn't think so. Even with Xichen next to him, Meng Yao has still been tempted every so often to simply forget the plan. To stop this plotting and maneuvering, and enjoy what he has earned in life. Because he has earned this, through his own blood and tears, and long, sleepless nights.
But he can't. This almost-paradise is a nightmare for so many others. And it's come down to a simple choice of who he wants to keep, who he wants more as family: Wen Ruohan, or A-Huan. And A-Huan is the only answer.
"Perhaps," he concedes dubiously, and Xichen's thin smile tells him he didn't miss his tone. "Nevertheless, you are here, and I know I would not be able to manage everything so cleanly without you. I hope you understand that, that you're everything to me."
Xichen tilts his chin up and kisses him, soft and sweet. Meng Yao crumples his hands into the shoulders of his robe, pushing eagerly up on his toes.
"Shall we head to the training fields, while the sun is still up?" Xichen suggests after a moment. "Or, we could skip today's training, and stay in."
After mentioning to Wen Ruohan that Xichen was helping Meng Yao improve his cultivation, he decided it would be wise for them to occasionally be seen doing so in public. Just in case. They mostly spar, and Meng Yao has noticed himself becoming a bit more skilled with Hensheng with every session. He will never be a true master, but he will get as close as he possibly can.
"Yes," he says, and takes his husband's hand when it is offered.
Xichen leads them out onto the training grounds, which are deserted in the late afternoon sun. They warm up first, side-by-side, and by this point their sword forms flow easily and match effortlessly. Apparently, their extended proximity to one another and frequent dual cultivation has their cores more or less entirely in sync.
Meng Yao loves it. Part of him wishes this was the only part of their training together they ever did. They move as one, from ducks to lunges to spins, and when their movements are different, it's only because they purposefully mirrored one another. It's like dancing, except he isn't a small child in a brothel, clumsily copying his mother. He's Meng Yao, and his husband loves him.
On their next step Xichen catches his eye, and smiles. We have a bit of an audience. Back and to the left.
As they spin, Meng Yao turns. At the edge of the training field is a gaggle of children, probably eight or nine of them. He doesn't have time to count before he's spinning again.
Are any of them your students?
Xichen ducks down for a swipe as Meng Yao surges upwards to strike at an invisible foe. A few of them, yes. Can you hear them, A-Yao?
He can't, but he isn't surprised that Xichen can, with his unusually strong hearing. No. What are they saying?
That they want to grow up and have what we have. Xichen brings them to a stop, the easy and natural end of their sword forms. When they turn to face each other, his husband surprises him by catching his chin and giving him a quick, chaste kiss.
"Stay where you are, little ones," Xichen calls over Meng Yao's head. He turns to see them, blushing and scuffing their feet, as if embarrassed over being caught watching.
"You may stay, and watch, if you like," Meng Yao says.
"We did not mean to intrude, your majesty," a little girl says.
"The training grounds are open to the public," Meng Yao points out. "You are more than welcome to watch."
With huge, awed eyes, the little ones all look up at him. It occurs to Meng Yao that, to them, he probably seems like some kind of legendary figure. All these children are the children of inner Wen disciples, probably being trained in cultivation themselves, but he can't help but think of himself at that age. He'd never seen or met a cultivator beyond the occasional ones who patronized the brothel, when he was that young. And he's sure that when they did, he looked at them with a similar expression of pure awe.
They always turned away from him, filthy little thing that he was. Meng Yao will not do that.
Can we show off a bit? He asks, shooting Xichen a sidelong look. I want to give them something good to tell their families about.
Xichen's smile grows warm and a little crooked. I would love to.
They instruct the children on where to stand, to stay out of the way. Even so, he's prepared for one or more of them to break the rules. Not every child is as obedient or aware of the depths of consequences as he was, at that age.
It is very difficult to properly spar blade to blade with Hensheng. She's a flexible sword, and she was not intended to be that way. Meng Yao found her out behind the blacksmith when he was eleven, drawn there by the sounds of the blacksmith beating his apprentice.
"Look, look at this blade! It bends!" The blacksmith bellowed. "What kind of nonsense! No cultivator could ever wield this! It's an abomination!"
The apprentice ducked his chin to his chest and weathered the blows, weeping quietly. "I just wanted to experiment," he said thinly, once the beating was over.
"Toss it in the scrap heap," the blacksmith snapped. "And don't come back until tomorrow, or I'll end up hurting you even worse for all the material you wasted."
Meng Yao snuck after the older boy, sticking to the shadows. Once he reached the trash heap out behind the smithy, he sat down to cry a bit more.
"You might as well come out and laugh at me to my face, Ming," he said hoarsely.
At first Meng Yao thought he must've been talking to someone else. But nobody else seemed to be around. So Meng Yao slowly stepped out of the shadow of the building, and the apprentice blinked.
"You're not Ming," he said. "You're just a little boy."
Meng Yao had nodded at him. He was eleven, probably not much younger than the apprentice, but he always did look much younger than he was.
"I saw him hit you," Meng Yao said. He pulled a handkerchief out of his sleeve. It was a bit wrinkled, but it made the apprentice's eyes light up.
"Thank you," he said, and accepted the cloth to clean blood and dirt and tears off his face. "I don't want mama to know he beat me. She'll want me to quit my apprenticeship."
Meng Yao nodded sagely. Even at that age, he knew the importance of work. He knew what kinds of things had to be sacrificed, and would be willingly sacrificed, for one's mother.
"You can keep it," he said, when the boy asked where he could return the cleaned handkerchief tomorrow. "I have others." He didn't have others, but he could get them. There was always fabric being thrown out at the brothel, especially when a certain type of client came to visit, the kind who were fond of ripping clothing.
The boy left the failed blade on the ground by the trash heap, thanked Meng Yao again, and left. Once he was out of sight, he picked up the sword. It was plain, the hilt unadorned, and the blade wobbled oddly and slumped to the side. It still felt good in his hand, tiny as it was.
He named her Hensheng the next day, when he first felt her spirit. She was an angry, screaming little thing. Furious at being declared a failure by the blacksmith. Seething over how the apprentice who made her was forced to throw her out like she was nothing.
Meng Yao didn't think she was nothing. She was a strange blade, but he was a strange boy. And with her in his hand, he grew into a strange man.
Xichen hefted Shuoyue in his own hand. She was a more common jian, with a straight and rigid blade. But she and Hensheng knew one another well by now, their spirits as in sync as their wielders.
Meng Yao took the first move. He darted across the field, striking for Xichen's chest. Hensheng wrapped around Shuoyue's blade, once, twice, and nearly made it a third time before Xichen wrenched his blade away. It was a little maneuver Xichen himself helped Meng Yao develop, in the early days of their training together. If he could achieve three full wraps around an opponent's sword, that was enough of a grip to twist the weapon out of the wielder's hand. Xichen theorized that, with the strength of the metal and the fiery burning of Hensheng's spirit, that maneuver may even be enough to snap lesser swords.
Xichen allowed Meng Yao to move him backwards for a few paces, before going on the offensive. He swings at Meng Yao's side, and he throws all his momentum into a sideways duck, so the blade goes whistling over his head. He spins on his knee, his good knee, in the dirt, aiming for Xichen's ankles. This is another maneuver his husband is very familiar with, and he easily jumps over the blade. If he were a true enemy, he probably could've timed the landing to come down with his foot on Meng Yao's blade, pinning her to the dirt. But he didn't, not this time. He's going easy on Meng Yao, probably for the sake of their audience.
Still, he will have other chances to show off. As Shuoyue arcs through the air to come back for another swipe at him, Meng Yao tugs the string in his sleeve. It attaches to the Seer's Dagger, which slides silently down into his palm. Someone who didn't know him, someone who isn't Xichen, would have no idea that Meng Yao carries two weapons.
But Xichen knows him. They've sparred many times, and he's seen Meng Yao slide a dagger into his hand this same way under much more dire circumstances.
He parries Shuoyue with the Seer's Dagger. The spirit in the dagger is old, older than Shuoyue and Hensheng and probably Xichen and Meng Yao all combined. It hasn't said much to him, but it feels cooperative. Sparks fly as the larger blade slides down to the guard of the dagger's handle, and in that moment the match was decided. Meng Yao whips Hensheng up from the dirt in his other hand, and sends a thrum of cultivation down the blade, making her rigid. This technique is entirely his own, one he came up with while working in Qinghe. He was tired of limp sword jokes from the few who knew he even had a spiritual weapon. And he found that, with enough focus, he could make her blade stiff for a short time. Long enough, if he needed to, to cut someone's throat.
He doesn't need to right now, of course. The razor thin edge of her blade rests a hair's breadth from the hollow of Xichen's throat, Shuoyue still engaged with the Seer's dagger.
Xichen laughs, and steps back. "Very well done, A-Yao," he says. His eyes glow with warmth, with pride, with exertion.
He only won because Xichen let him, but he already knows the answer his husband will give his arguments if he brings it up. That he could counter Meng Yao only because of his prior knowledge of his techniques.
Meng Yao steps back, and bows. His husband will give him a harder fight if he asks for it, but Meng Yao is enjoying this more than he anticipated. The little ones are letting themselves be louder now, and they are vocal in their approval of his victory.
"Again?" Xichen asks, smiling his slightly crooked grin that means he's happy.
Meng Yao grins back. Something in the air, something in being allowed to throw his body around and play at fighting with no risk or danger, makes him bold. He shows all his teeth in his grin, and his husband's gaze deepens a little in response. Warm, dark, loving eyes.
"Again," Meng Yao confirms.
Chapter 48: What will you do when you don't need me anymore?
Summary:
Outside Nightless City, people are making moves. Meng Yao, stuck inside Nightless City, is restless.
Notes:
If you would like a smidge of insight into what's happening outside Nightless City from LWJ's perspective, check out the second one might be profound prior to this chapter
Chapter Text
It only takes four days for the battles in Qinghe to come to a full, frozen stand-off. The Unclean Realm itself is nearly impregnable, and it seems that it's only become more so since the last time it was conquered. Meng Yao is immensely proud of Huaisang, and of the rest of their allies outside of Qishan. They've used their much smaller force so skillfully, and kept their walls shut tight, so the Wen and the corpse armies have no choice but to just stand outside and wait.
"I think that is a wiser course of action, a-die," Meng Yao says, the next day. "Waiting them out. Their food stores cannot last forever." Secretly, Meng Yao knows that there are several farms inside the Unclean Realm itself, and it could probably generate its own food for nearly a year. By then, hopefully, Meng Yao will have come up with another plan.
"A siege? I do think that may be our best course." Wen Ruohan thoughtfully rubs his chin. "You are brilliant as always, my son." He squeezes Meng Yao's shoulder.
A brief flood of apprehension washes over him. He's not doing any of his plotting for Wen Ruohan's benefit. The day that Meng Yao will have no choice but to kill him feels closer with every second, and it makes his hands and heart burn. He will have to destroy his happiness with his own hands.
It's always been this way, this is no surprise. The choice, as always, narrows down between A-Huan and Wen Ruohan. These months of getting to have them both have been… mostly a dream come true, if Meng Yao overlooks all the murder and rape his father has been committing.
Yes, he reminds himself. Wen Ruohan may be good to him, but to others, he is a tyrant and a torturer. He's even tortured Xichen, and that Meng Yao cannot forgive.
He bids his father goodbye and leaves him to return to his own rooms, and his husband. About halfway through the walk back, Xichen starts writing in the matrix.
A-Yao, I just received a mantis talisman from Wangji!
Meng Yao's heart thuds, and he picks up his pace from a stroll to a brisk speed walk. What does it say?
That Wangji has left the Unclean Realm to work on raising his own army, as well as rallying the scattered and surviving Jiang and Lan members. He wants us to know he can be contacted with the mantis talismans now, and also if there is anything he can do.
His mind whirls. Did he say anything about the size of the army?
Around 400 cultivators of decent strength, Xichen responds.
That's far more than he expected. With a force that size… Meng Yao speeds up again. I'll be right there.
When he reaches his rooms, he nearly runs inside, and smacks right into Xichen's chest.
"Easy," Xichen says, stroking down Meng Yao's arms.
"With a force of that size, I think it may be possible to break the blockade," Meng Yao blurts. "Especially if Yanli uses the tiger seal to disable the Wen corpse army."
Xichen's eyebrows raise. "Truly?"
"Yes." Meng Yao licks his lips. "Can you draft a new mantis talisman for me, so we can reply as soon as possible?"
His husband's eyes glitter. "Absolutely." His shoulders rise and fall with a gentle sigh. "It is good to know my brother is aware of our plan, and to be able to rely on him."
In the end, it takes three mantis talismans to carry all the information Meng Yao thinks they may need. A synopsis of what he would like them to do, followed by a very detailed map and description of the Wen blockade. Weak spots are indicated with little cross marks, where Meng Yao suggests attacking.
Xichen reads over his letter with a small smile. "This is very clever," he says. "Attacking the blockade from two sides. If they can retake Qinghe in full, then our allies on the outside will have a much better launching point to reach us here."
Meng Yao breathes, and smiles. He knows that it's coming, that all this is coming to a close.
Xichen scoops up his hand and kisses it. "You've done so much," he whispers. "You work so hard, every second of every day. I am in awe of you, and I always will be."
It's a perfect reassurance, and a clear indicator that Xichen knows him better than anyone else alive.
"What will you do," he asks, and his throat is unexpectedly dry. He licks his lips. "What will you do, if everything goes exactly as planned? After?"
Xichen blinks at him. Meng Yao knows, he knows he isn't making sense, and he's trying but all his words feel jumbled and out of order.
"After. What will you do when you don't need me anymore?"
His husband grabs both his hands, enfolding them in his larger ones. "A-Yao," he says. There's a light of recognition in his eyes now, flickering brightly. "There will never be a time that I do not need you."
He speaks with such solemn and serious belief. Meng Yao flounders, unable to catch enough words out of the stream in order to explain himself. "If we win. If everything is-- if everything is alright, after, after…"
"Shh," Xichen murmurs, releasing one of Meng Yao's hands to press a finger to his lips. "I think I understand. You are concerned that, if our plan is successful in its entirety and we manage to restore order, restore the other sects, and bring down Wen Ruohan, once that is done, you will have no place anymore."
He squeezes his eyes shut. He's right, he's exactly right and still somehow he doesn't understand. Once everything is done and over with, where will he go? He cannot take the mantle of emperor, he refuses, he won't-- even as the whisper of prestige and power tempts him. He won't. He will never be accepted back into the Nie, not after everything. Even if Huaisang would welcome him back, Nie Mingjue would never. There is nothing left of the Jin or of Lanling for him to seek legitimacy from. The Lan, they may possibly take him in, out of a sense of pity, if they reclaim Xichen. If they refuse to reclaim Xichen then Meng Yao would spit on their pity. Maybe, if Wanyin and Yanli manage to rebuild the Jiang, they would be the most likely to give him a place. They are his friends. They--
"A-Yao," Xichen says. "Please don't get lost in your head. Stay with me."
His eyes snap open. They're sore, and the light is too bright.
"Assuming we are successful, do you not wish me to stay by your side?"
A burning hot tear runs down his cheek and splashes into his mouth. It's salty and tastes like iron. "Of course I do," he whispers. "But I would never ask you to shackle yourself or tarnish your reputation more than you already--"
Xichen cuts him off by dragging him into a kiss, hot and messy. Xichen is crying too, Meng Yao can taste it.
"No," he says, with the force of a gale wind. "I do not care about any of that. I do not care about my--" his eyes narrow viciously. "Reputation. It has done me little good. The only thing that truly matters, the only thing I would want in such a world as the one we are aiming to create, is to stay with you." His grip on Meng Yao's hand tightens. "If you no longer want me as your husband, I can live with that, I can be anything, so long as you do not make me leave--"
Then, it is Meng Yao's turn to cut him off with a kiss. "I always want you," he gasps. "I love you. I love you enough to let you go, if you wanted to-- to return, after all this, to being who you deserve to be-- sect leader Lan--"
Xichen shakes his head so vehemently his topknot comes a bit loose. "How could I ever go back?" He catches Meng Yao's face in his free hand and thumbs away a tear. "I have seen and survived and done far too much to ever want to go back to that. All I ask of this new world is that I have you, A-Yao."
Meng Yao squeezes his eyes shut and takes a ragged breath. "You are my husband," he manages. "And I am yours. I want nothing more than that, too. To be with you always."
He burrows face-first into Xichen's chest, and his husband holds him eagerly. They're both crying, and it takes some time for them to stop.
"So we are in agreement then," Xichen says after they've both dried their eyes. "Regardless of how it goes, regardless of what happens, we remain together. We face everything that will come together."
"Yes," Meng Yao says. He kisses Xichen, just once, just softly. "We are in agreement."
They send out the mantis talisman to Lan Wangji, and then fall into each other's arms again. Xichen sheds his outer robe, and Meng Yao scrabbles at the ties of the inner one. They're both so determined to get to each other's skin that they're getting in one another's way, and Meng Yao has to pause to laugh breathlessly.
"I love you," he says, and Xichen smiles like the sun and rolls them both onto the bed.
"I love you too," he says, and that somehow slows both their hands enough to finish wrestling off the last of their clothes. "A-Yao. My A-Yao."
"Yours," Meng Yao promises, and spreads his legs, digging his heels into the mattress. "A-Huan, come on, I need you…" Meng Yao pulls him down, down on top of him, so he can feel every inch of his husband's skin pressed against his. Xichen gives a blissful sigh into the crook of his neck, only rolling his hips back just a fraction, just enough for a tiny bit of grinding.
"How do you need me?" He asks, both his hands tangled hopelessly into Meng Yao's hair.
"Just like this," Meng Yao says, seizing his husband's hips to encourage him to roll and grind like that again. "Just want to feel you against me."
Xichen groans into his neck, leaving hot kisses all up and down the side. Meng Yao strokes his back, his shoulders, with his fingers. With their height difference, they can't quite manage to line up their cocks to rub against each other, but that's alright. The thought of Xichen pulling away long enough to prepare for anything else is abhorrent, he just wants him here, grinding against Meng Yao's stomach.
"Good, just like that," he purrs, digging in a bit with his nails. "Can you come like this, A-Huan? I want you too."
"Yes," Xichen gasps. "I can-- always, for you, A-Yao."
Even though there's no friction on his own aching cock, sparks of pleasure still shoot up and down Meng Yao's spine. "Good, you're so perfect, so good for me, A-Huan." He tugs his head out of the crook of his neck and kisses him, soft. "My husband. My perfect husband. I love you so much."
Xichen's entire body shudders, and he comes hot and sticky on Meng Yao's stomach. "Love-- A-Yao…"
Meng Yao presses kisses to his slack mouth, stroking his back and his hair, until he seems to come back to himself.
"Love you," he murmurs, finally returning the kisses. "Please, this husband wants to make his A-Yao come too." His eyes glimmer. Some kind of gentle plea.
"Yes," Meng Yao says. "Touch me. Love me. Make love to me."
There was something he was supposed to do today, something about organizing the library, but Meng Yao banishes it from his mind. How can he possibly think about books and manuscripts, when the most beautiful man in the world, the man he loves more than life itself, is slowly pushing himself up to straddle Meng Yao? How can he do anything but watch with parted lips and eager eyes as Xichen grabs their oil, pours it over his fingers, and reaches back between his own legs?
"I want my A-Yao inside me," he says, his half-hard cock twitching in interest again. "I want you to come inside me."
"Yes," he husks. Meng Yao reaches for his husband's hips, but Xichen shakes his head.
"Put your hands on the bed, love. Let me."
Obediently, Meng Yao allows his hands to fall to his sides, slack. Xichen groans and grins, arching his back.
"Perfect, just like that, thank you," he whispers, like Meng Yao has done him some great favor. "Just lay still for me, let me love you…"
Meng Yao feels like his soul is going to boil over and bubble out his eyes, there's so much love and adoration inside him for this man. And somehow, this man feels the same. He knows he does, he can feel it, right where their golden cores are linked. It's hard to pin down when that happened. Dual cultivation comes so easily to them.
Xichen sighs happily once he's fully seated on Meng Yao's cock, his smiling eyes fluttering closed for a moment. He leans down to press kisses all over his face, and Meng Yao can't make himself do nothing, so he reaches up one hand to touch his husband's hair. Xichen catches his hand halfway there even though his eyes are still closed, and presses it back down to the bed, lacing their fingers together.
"Love you," he murmurs into Meng Yao's mouth. "A-Yao."
"A-Huan," Meng Yao gasps in return. His hips have started to move, gently rocking back and forth. "Love. Beloved."
They don't end up leaving their room at all that day. Their lovemaking is slow, but as intense as it always is. They're still tangled up in each other when someone knocks, quiet and polite, on the door.
"It's dark outside," Meng Yao observes hazily, eyes cast over his shoulder and fixated on the window. Xichen is plastered against his back, cock hot between Meng Yao's thighs. "I think it must be dinner time."
They pull themselves apart, and they both shiver in the new coldness of not being placed skin-to-skin from head to toe.
Whoever it is knocks again, and then their voice gently filters in, and Meng Yao jumps. "Huoyao? It's me, Jiang Yanli, I have dinner for you."
"Give us a moment," Meng Yao calls back.
They hurriedly dress themselves, both in loose and casual robes. Meng Yao rolls his hair into a low bun, too self-conscious to leave it down. Xichen doesn't have that problem, simply tucking his hair behind his ears. When they open the door, they're faced with both Jiang Yanli and with Wanyin, carrying a large pot of soup. At least, Meng Yao is fairly certain that it's soup.
"Come in," Xichen says, easy and gracious, as if he wasn't fucking his husband facedown on the bed not ten minutes ago. It makes Meng Yao want to tease and poke at him, but he's still too in awe of his exceptional skill in social camouflage to do more than consider it.
Chapter 49: He's heard of the sayings about rocks and hard places, but it couldn't have prepared him for the reality of the situation
Summary:
Still trapped in Nightless City while the action takes place outside, Meng Yao is still restless and hurting. Xichen is still his rock.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It is very hard to just sit in Nightless City and wait. Even though the mantis talismans move very fast, it still takes about six hours for them to reach Lan Wangji, six and a half to get through the blockade and reach the Unclean Realm. And then, the response talisman has to make the same trip all over again.
Meng Yao spends five days doing almost nothing but reading and writing messages, and sending them off with hopes that the instructions will reach their allies in time. Updated maps of the blockade, updated numbers on soldiers dispatched. Everything Meng Yao can think they may possibly need in order to break the blockade, and probably a few dozen things they won't need. Ostensibly, he's doing all this work to strengthen the blockade-- and he does. If he wasn't also sending detailed maps of carefully planned weak points to the other side, he feels sure the blockade would be impenetrable.
It takes them six days. It's a blisteringly fast war, so far away and so remote that Meng Yao barely feels it happen at all. If it wasn't for the mantis talismans always coming and going, nearly invisible to anyone who was not the sender or the recipient, he could easily forget there was a battle happening at all. Especially since he's decided not to have Jiang Yanli use the tiger seal quite yet. Word on the battlefield is that Xiao Xingchen is a force to be reckoned with, so they've opted to conceal this last advantage a little bit longer.
Wen Fuhe's sword is handed to the emperor by a trembling messenger, fear written into every line of his body.
"How did he die?" Wen Ruohan asks evenly, picking up the sword.
"He w-was engaged in battle with Jin Z-zixuan, your excellency, a-and--"
Wen Ruohan gives him a look that could freeze the ocean, and the messenger bows his head even lower and corrects himself.
"W-with A-Xuan, and as he w-was focused on the battle, Nie Huaisang hit him with a p-p-poison dart. He d-d-died instantly. We could not recover his body, there were too many enemy fierce corpses... We did try, but all w-we could retrieve was his sword."
Wen Ruohan nods again, his face blank. Without even looking, he unsheathes Wen Fuhe's sword and buries it in the messenger's chest.
Meng Yao almost flinches, and A-Huan gasps. It's been so long since he's seen Wen Ruohan kill a messenger over so little, but it's also been a while since someone he loved dearly has died.
"Ah, I apologize for frightening you, Huan'er," he says, sheathing the bloodied sword.
A faint chill runs up Meng Yao's spine. This is Wen Ruohan still entirely in control of himself. This is not him unbalanced and half-mad with resentful energy and the yin iron. This is who he is.
"It's alright," Xichen says. He squeezes Meng Yao's hand. "I was only a bit startled."
Meng Yao squeezes back. He's so proud of him. Xichen has grown so much, has learned so much. Things he never should've needed to, in an ideal world. But their world has never been ideal.
"I am still very concerned about the fact that Xiao Xingchen is able to interfere with my use of the corpse army," Wen Ruohan says. "Obviously I gave him too much freedom here, and he spent that time gathering information on how to interfere. He must have been planning this for some time. But it matters not." He pauses, and then laughs. "Of course that Nie Huaisang couldn't participate in the battle with any kind of honor." He slaps his knee, like it's a hilarious joke. "Poison! I'm sure his brother will be dismayed!"
Meng Yao twists his mouth thoughtfully, and refrains from making any corrections about the differences between poison and venom. "Nie Mingjue has always had great disdain for use of poison on the battlefield," he says. It's true, but if Wen Ruohan thinks he can rub salt in Nie Mingjue's wounds maybe he'll finally be given some news of his brother. Even if he is fighting dishonorably, hearing that his brother is still alive and fighting to retake their home would be heartening. Hopefully. "It seems that, despite all of his brother's efforts to make him a proper Nie, Huaisang was simply not cut out for it." He keeps his voice so carefully, steadily neutral that he's certain Wen Ruohan will notice. He'll think Meng Yao is masking equal grief.
He's not grieving, though. Absolutely not. What is there even to grieve of Wen Fuhe? He was a good and kind uncle to Meng Yao, these few months, and he was gentle with Xichen, certainly. But it has not been that long. And his husband is pushing nothing but grim, vaguely grief-tinged satisfaction into the matrix over this news. Knowing it made Xichen at least a bit sad to lose him eases the guilt in Meng Yao's chest.
"Don't either of you worry, though," the emperor continues. He's stopped laughing. Now his voice is just… dry, and distant. "You won't lose any more family to this little rebellion, I swear to you. It ends now."
Xichen nods, and Meng Yao swallows a lump in his throat. "Who are you sending to lead the army to re-secure the border?" It probably won't be Fenyan, she is tasked with the defense of the southern and eastern borders right now, though she is the obvious choice. It isn't often Meng Yao doesn't even have a guess as to Wen Ruohan's next move.
"Cai Shuili," Wen Ruohan says. "He is… restless and hurting, still, after Minyu's death. I have been loathe to send him to the battlefield because I fear he may be reckless with his life, but…" he pinches the bridge of his nose. This is the first time Meng Yao has ever seen him looking like an old man, and it's jarring. "He is still being reckless with his life here, and perhaps being allowed to seek blood for his vengeance will help him find peace again."
With any luck, he'll find his peace on the sharp end of Jin Zixuan's sword. That would finally give him and his biological half brother some common ground, at least. Meng Yao almost laughs at the thought, at the concept of him and Jin Zixuan bonding over getting to kill their respective rapists. And unlike with Fuhe, he doubts either he or Xichen will feel even a bit sad.
After that, Wen Ruohan releases them. He gives Meng Yao a hug and a kiss to the top of his head, the same one that always makes him go weak and fuzzy. He'll never be used to it. It will always feel the same. No matter how insane, how bloodthirsty, how murderous Wen Ruohan is, in control of himself or not, Meng Yao will always be weak to him.
And he still has to kill him.
"A-Yao," Xichen murmurs, wrapping his arms around Meng Yao's waist. He's stopped walking. When? "What's wrong?"
He can't get enough of a handle on it to even guess at where to begin. There aren't words for it, no words are strong enough for the rotted, fungal love he's carrying. It's wrong. It's part of who he is.
"I can't," he murmurs, and he doesn't know what he's talking about. He can't explain it, or he can't do it, or he can't not do it. He's heard of the sayings about rocks and hard places, or what it means to be caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, but it couldn't have prepared him for the reality of the situation. To love and hate someone in perfectly equal measure, adore them for everything they've done for you and revile them for all the ways they did it.
What kind of broken thing is he, to not be able to root it all out and leave only hate? To still love Wen Ruohan as his father even in the face of his murders and rapes and enslavements, what does that say about Meng Yao?
Xichen hums, and squeezes his hand so gently. "A-Yao, please don't say such vicious things about yourself."
He's written in the matrix without thinking, he finally realizes.
How can I still love him and call myself human?
Xichen urges him along, gently but firmly, until they reach the door to their rooms. Only then does his husband gather him up and hold him, burying his nose in his hair. He flops them both down on their couch, the lap blanket tossed to the side.
"To be conflicted is to be human," he murmurs. "If I've learned anything from trying to follow thousands of rules written in stone for most of my life, it's that we try so hard to twist ourselves out of our humanity and into something cleaner. But the harder we try, the more human we become." He tucks his nose against Meng Yao's cheek.
"I shouldn't still love him," Meng Yao whispers miserably. "I should hate him. I do hate him!"
"I hate my father too, sometimes," Xichen says softly. He leans back so he can see his face once again. "I can't say I ever really knew him. I saw him two or three times a month, and he always seemed so distant even when he was right there in front of me. If I asked for his help, his guidance, he would help me how he could. He seemed serene and wise and kind, until he would say things…things about my mother. About her choices and how she forced his hand, though he'd never elaborate. He would say things about my…Grandmaster Lan, too." Xichen's hands curled into fists where they rested on Meng Yao's sides. "Cruel things. Things I don't ever want to repeat."
Meng Yao's breath catches. "Why are you telling me this, A-Huan?" He knows, he thinks he does. He still wants to know for sure.
"I want you to know you aren't alone." His arms tighten. "You wouldn't think me a monster for having conflicting feelings on my father, would you?" His voice is soft, unsure, like he doesn't quite know the answer himself.
"Of course not," Meng Yao snaps. "You don't know– you can't ever really know the full length of everything your father did."
Pulling back a bit, Xichen raises an eyebrow. "Are you certain you know the full length of what Wen Ruohan has done?"
That… is a better point than Meng Yao imagined him raising.
"We are not our parents," Xichen says softly. "We are not the people who raised us. Wasn't that one of the foundations of the sunshot campaign, when it existed? We can learn from mistakes made in the past. We can move forward out of ruin."
Meng Yao's throat burns. He swallows, dry and ashy. "How can we– how can I move into a better future if I'm still carrying this…love for an evil man?"
"But you have never loved his methods, or his actions." Xichen's voice is firm. "That is not part of why you love him."
He hasn't thought about it that way. Why does he love Wen Ruohan? He was kind to Meng Yao, kind to Meng Yao's mother, he awarded him a promotion based on merit and character. In a slow, stilted voice he explains that to Xichen, and his husband's jaw loses a tension Meng Yao didn't even see until it was gone.
"I think that's what it means to move forward," he murmurs. His hands are tight on Meng Yao's waist, not tight enough to hurt. Just enough to be reassuring.
"Can we really just…take the good out from the bad, and leave it at that?" Meng Yao swallows again. His mouth isn't as dry as before, but there's still a bit of terror settled into his gums. "We can't change the horrible things that have happened. We can't make them unhappen. Can good policies still be used, promotion based on merits, marriages of love, adoption law…" he wants to mention Wen Ruohan's favorable view toward sex workers but the words get stuck in him, someplace between his stomach and his tongue. Can they make a future where that is expected, everywhere?
Xichen squeezes him again, gently, his mouth pressed into a thoughtful line. He seems to be deeply contemplating what Meng Yao's been saying, until he speaks. "You are correct in that we cannot change the past. And there may well be equally terrible things to come in the future, before we can reach our goal, that are just as unavoidable." He sucks his teeth. "If we are to simply take the good and bury the bad, pretend it never happened, someday it may well claw itself out of the ground and come back to haunt us. To repeat itself."
"Like a fierce corpse," Meng Yao murmurs. He's starting to feel tired, on a soul deep level that says he's been thinking too hard. "Repression isn't always the best way, is it, A-Huan?"
His husband smiles. He's tired too, it's been a long day. "No, not always. With the most fierce kinds of demons, the best way in my experience is to set them to rest. Find their peace, and then learn to live with it. Or die with it, as it may be."
Giving in to the exhaustion, Meng Yao tucks his head under Xichen's chin. "We have to settle them," he murmurs. "Find a way to live with them, because it will never go away."
"Do you think we can do it?" Xichen's voice trembled, imperceptible except for where Meng Yao is pressed against his neck.
It gives him a little burst of confidence. This, this he knows how to deal with. If his A-Huan is uncertain about the possibility of something he wants, then Meng Yao will find a way to make it possible. Make it certain. And if his husband wants a world where the ashes of war and conquest are laid to rest, respected and never forgotten, he will make it happen. If he wants a world where peace is possible, he will make it happen.
"I want it for selfish reasons," Xichen goes on. "I'm not– I care about the world, about people I do not know, but not as much as I care about you. About Wangji. About Wanyin and Yanli and Daiyu and Mingxia." His voice audibly trembles now. "I want it for them. I want a world where we can heal and I can have my brother, and my friends, and my husband all by my side." He licks his lips. "Everything else…is incidental. Is that wrong?"
Pressing his palms into A-Huan's shoulders, Meng Yao stretches up to kiss his forehead. "No, it isn't wrong," he says. "It's human. Just like you said."
A soft understanding dawn's in Xichen's eyes, and Meng Yao loves him, loves him so much it's going to spill out of his eyes and mouth and ears like a qi deviation. He kisses him instead, wraps his hands into Xichen's hair to hold him tight, the way he likes to be held.
What Xichen wants, he gets. This is an indelible fact of the world. If he wants a future that's safe for their friends, a place where they can heal and learn to live with the past, he will get that.
And if he, bafflingly, wants a world with Meng Yao at his side, he will get that as well. Meng Yao will make sure of it.
Notes:
So, I consider this chapter and the previous one to be not so subtle mirrors of each other. I also wrote them both specifically to try and reflect Meng Yao's current feeling of being disconnected and feeling out of the loop, which is why there is no extra to go along with it. While for the most part I'm invested in telling this story from multiple perspectives, when I first wrote this but I really wanted to convey Meng Yao's feelings of isolation. Rereading and editing it now I'm not sure how well I did that, honestly, but I'm committed at this point.
Chapter 50: can't he just spit it out already and let him get back to his brooding?
Summary:
An unexpected meeting in the library
Notes:
And now back to our irregularly unscheduled long chapters.
Quick warnings for discussions of medical/institutional transphobia, what could be construed as outing a coworker (it's not but MY briefly thinks it might be), discussion of a sick elder sibling who is dancing on the line between chronic and terminal illness, and fears of witholding essential medical care re: the previous warning.
Psssst, if you don't remember/know who Zhan Xingxi is, you can read his extra Thicker than water, either before or after this chapter, but I reccomend before.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Meng Yao stretches until his back pops, then paces yet another circle of this corner of the library. He's losing his mind, he absolutely is. It's this damn waiting. Not knowing. He isn't idle but he's close enough to it to be uncomfortable. Wasn't there a time when he wished to feel idle? Or at least less overwhelmed?
On the desk, there are a few projects he's tried to commit his brain to and utterly failed. One is a blueprint for a watchtower that must be placed on rough, uneven terrain. Another is some haphazard notes and theories on human cauldrons and the modifications that make them that way, some of them his and some of them Wen Qing's.
He misses that woman. He hopes she is doing well. Wen Qionglin has been spotted on the battlefield many times, lending his impressive archery skills to the Unclean Realm's defense. But there has not been a single word of Wen Qing. He can only assume she is in the Unclean Realm because her brother is.
"Excuse me," a soft voice pipes up. Meng Yao blinks and refocuses his eyes, and finds himself face to face with Zhan Xingxi. The archer, one of Wen Ruohan's guardsmen.
"Young Master Zhan, I did not know you had returned from Qinghe." Honestly, Meng Yao expected that the young guard had died alongside his uncle while fighting on the front lines. "What can I do for you?" He asks, instinctively wondering if there is anything he needs to hide on his desk. There isn't. He wouldn't work on something sensitive outside of his rooms. That would be infinitely foolish.
Zhan Xingxi wrings his hands. He opens his mouth and then closes it, opens it again, breathes, and again backs down.
Meng Yao raises an eyebrow. Can't he just spit it out already and let him get back to his brooding?
"My elder brother is unwell," he finally begins. His eyes are stuck nervously on the floor.
"I am sorry to hear that," Meng Yao says. "Has he gotten the chance to see Healer Ting?"
The change that comes over Zhan Xingxi is instant and dramatic. His eyebrows draw together. His jaw and fists both clench.
"She is the problem," he spits, soft but poisonous all the way down.
Meng Yao startles. He's not heard of many complaints about Ting Guozhen's work or conduct, beyond the general and unchangeable fact that she is not Wen Qing. And that mostly just fuels Meng Yao's own complaints, which he has not voiced to anyone but Xichen and Sisi, and Qin Su on one notable occasion.
“She's just so stubborn and uncooperative, A-Su,” he muttered hotly under his breath. “I don't know how far I trust her with your help.”
Qin Su sighed, shoulders slumping. “I don't think she’s dangerous, Yao-ge. Just… inflexible.” She indicated the stack of notes on the table between them, mostly Wen Qing’s work. Her and her brother's effort to undo the cauldron modifications that were forced on her. Of those that aren't Wen Qing’s, all but one are Meng Yao’s. He has spent more time than he probably should on expanding on the healer’s theories.
Only one page of notes is Ting Guozhen’s work. It's a pathetic contribution, and is just a flowery, vaguely scientific way of saying ‘if Wen Qing’s theories do not work out then I suppose we must give up’.
Meng Yao will not be giving up. Not on this and not in this lifetime, not on his sister. He hadn't even known her for very long and yet it felt like they'd grown up together sometimes. He knew her mind and she knew his. It was the kind of innate, easy understanding that came out from two people being very deeply alike. Nurture changed and shaped both him and her into what they became. But he just knew in the weird, cramped part of his soul that her nature was nearly the same as his.
“A-Qing was able to remove about two thirds of the piercings,” Qin Su reminded him.
“And Healer Ting hasn't managed a single one,” Meng Yao growled.
She nodded a bit. “I don't want to push her, though. I am not in pain or distress. There are others, innocent people, who need her time and expertise more.” A small smile quirked the left side of her mouth. “And, it is an indelible fact that Wen Qing is something of an impossible standard to hold anyone to.”
During that conversation, Meng Yao found that he largely agreed. Wen Qing is more than an impossible standard. Now, though, he wonders if he was perhaps a bit too generous in his estimation of her.
But all that aside, does he really have the time or focus or energy for this now? Part of him is so tired that he wants to tell the guard to leave him be. He's busy being stressed about not being busy. His mind is firmly on things happening far, far away from Qishan, can he even drag it back inside the fire palace?
Why did the guard come to him with this, anyway? He hardly knows Zhan Xingxi. Maybe his father is just too busy right now, or Zhan Xingxi thinks he is, at least.
He wrestles the impulse down, and reminds himself he has a station here in Nightless City to fill. Duties to perform. People he is accountable to.
He indicates the table. "Please, have a seat and tell me about your concerns. Whatever the issue, I can tell it weighs heavily on you."
Zhan Xingxi flops inelegantly down onto the cushion beside Meng Yao's. "I would…first ask that my prince be willing to forgive my impertinence."
Both brows raised, Meng Yao sits to join him. "Please, speak plainly, and I will do what I can for you. Any impertinence is forgiven." There are, of course, many things that some would call impertinence that he considers horrendous crimes and will never forgive, but he doesn't foresee Zhan Xingxi bad mouthing A-Huan or Sisi, or A-Su. Or anyone else in his inner circle.
"My elder brother Haozheng was born very small and weak," Zhan Xingxi begins. There's no trace of the bitter-soft rage that surfaced when he mentioned healer Ting. "Even as he grew, his constitution was poor. His lungs always have some amount of liquid in them, which he struggles to clear. Our parents were told he would not live to see fifteen years of age. We moved to Nightless City when I was four, and Haozheng eleven. The ingenuity of Wen healers led us to a treatment plan that has drastically increased his quality of life. My brother is almost thirty now."
Meng Yao can't help but feel completely, utterly baffled. Some of it must show on his face, because Zhan Xingxi shuffles awkwardly.
"You're friends with Shi Mingxia, aren't you?"
It takes a second longer than he'd like for his brain to catch up with the abrupt change in topic. "Yes," he says. "Mingxia is a very capable woman who has my entire trust. Why do you ask?"
Zhan Xingxi leans forward. His volume drops to a whisper, almost conspiratorial. "You know that she is misaligned?"
An angry red spike jabs him in the stomach. So, this is the impertinence he promised to forgive? He already agreed with himself that any slights against his own are unacceptable.
"It is not a secret as far as I know, though if it was, your betrayal of her trust has been noted." He folds his hands on the desk placidly. "If you have come to ask me to put in a word with my father to have her demoted, or otherwise punished, rest assured I'll see you removed from the sect entirely."
Zhan Xingxi goes pale. He waves his hands in front of him in a startlingly good impression of Nie Huaisang. "No, no, no! It's not that, I'd never…" he swallows. "I'm also misaligned, my prince. Mingxia told me to speak with you about this issue I'm having, she said you'd be fine with it but…I needed to know for certain."
Oh.
Meng Yao blinks. He can see it now that he knows what he's looking for, in the softer slope of the guard's arms and how he really isn't that much taller than Meng Yao at all.
"I hold no grudge against anyone on the basis of misalignment alone." He puts his hands back in his lap. He can understand wanting to be sure of a sympathetic ear before going into a fraught conversation. If this man does not intend to be a threat or vexation to Mingxia, that's a relief. "Now please, let's get to the issue at hand."
Zhan Xingxi still fidgets a bit, silent and awkward. Meng Yao considers shaking him, but really, he's not up to it. He's only slightly more up to piecing together whatever this issue is from the scraps he's been given. Something about Ting Guozhen, something about his ill brother, something about him being misaligned.
"Ting Guozhen does not like to give medication or medical assistance to the misaligned," Zhan Xingxi finally spits out. "Before, I was being treated by Wen Qing… she gave me medication to largely stop my monthly cycles, she–"
Meng Yao raises his hand to stop him. "You do not need to tell me your entire medical history. I believe you, and I believe I also can guess at the nature of your problem." He taps his fingers on the outside of his thigh. "Ting Guozhen refuses to continue the treatment plan Wen Qing arranged for you. Ting Guozhen is also one of the few–" Zhan Xingxi twitches, and Meng Yao pauses. "I see, she is the only one left in Nightless City, then, who knows the methods to treat your brother. If you anger her in any way, she'll withhold her treatment of him much like she is withholding treatment from you. Am I correct?"
He has both his hands clasped over his mouth, and his eyes go wet. "Mingxia said you'd understand," he mumbles into his hand. "I– I understand I ought to have taken this to your esteemed father, but–"
This man is not very good at finishing his sentences. Meng Yao will cut him some slack, though, since he's been under such pressure. Meng Yao has no older siblings, but he can substitute the feeling easily enough with his mother. Wouldn't he have suffered anything, pain or loss or humiliation, for her sake?
"I am glad you brought this to me," Meng Yao says, because he needs to say something to assure Zhan Xingxi he will not act rashly. But his mind is absolutely whirling. Mingxia is a schemer, and so unlike her sister. Daiyu is straightforward and outspoken and reminds Meng Yao of every good thing he ever admired in Nie Mingjue. Mingxia is quieter, and entirely willing to maneuver others around to suit her ends. Her ends are never nefarious, she really is quite gentle under her anxiety and reticence.
So he can put together with relative ease what she is asking of him. He knows that she knows that he would figure it out: she sent Zhan Xingxi here to make an ally out of him.
Meng Yao just isn't sure how to do it.
It's a risk. He'll have to calculate it– another member of Wen Ruohan's guard turned to his side would be invaluable, certainly. Out of the guardsmen who remain, Zhan Xingxi's skills are the best known. He's an archer with no peer, except for possibly Wen Qionglin when fear for his sister's safety had his performance anxiety muzzled.
But it absolutely cannot happen here. The library is too open and not warded. It might be him being paranoid. He's gotten this far on his paranoia, though.
"Come with me," he says, and stands up. His own rooms are too far and it might throw too much suspicion to take the guard all that way. He goes to Caihong's office instead.
The librarian opens the door for them, smiling. "My prince, young master Zhan. What can I do for you today?"
Meng Yao smiles back at him and bows. "Caihong, if I could intrude upon your time and your space, I would appreciate using your office as a safe and quiet place to have a private discussion with young master Zhan."
Caihong raises his eyebrows. "Of course, my prince, you needn't even ask. Shall I make myself scarce for a while?"
Meng Yao weighs this. He doesn't truly want to kick Caihong out of his own office, but will Xingxi speak frankly if they have an audience?
“No,” he says. “Stay. There is nothing we will be discussing that you can't be privy to.”
And so Meng Yao sits the young guard down and tells him everything. He knew the story was long, but it takes even more time than he initially expected. By the end, Zhan Xingxi is staring at him with his mouth open.
“You…” he whispers. “You were never on our side to begin with.”
He shakes his head. “No. Wen Qing wasn't originally on my side, but eventually Wen Ruohan went too far even for her. Daiyu has been an ally of mine for a long time, though.”
Zhan Xingxi gnaws on his fingers. “If I help you,” he says quietly, “and if everything you're planning for succeeds, Wen Qing will be able to treat my brother again.”
“I can't imagine she wouldn't,” Meng Yao says. “I won't make promises for her, but I know her to be an ethical physician. That's why she ultimately gave me her support.”
The guardsman grits his teeth. “I've never liked the idea of an unwilling harem,” he mutters, “and I've always been able to get out of participating in tormenting them, though the emperor always offers. But I– there's nothing I can do to help them.”
“There is now,” Meng Yao points out. “Do you have access to Nie Mingjue?”
He blinks a few times. “Er… I probably could get it, if I asked.” He fidgets. “But there's no chance we could break him out, not from the emperor's quarters. They're far too well fortified, and the rare times he's taken out, he's heavily guarded.”
“I know.” Meng Yao pinches his lower lip. “My hope was that we could get him some small message, for Xichen’s sake. Something to let him know there is still hope. I don't even know if he is aware the Unclean Realm has been liberated.”
“I don't think he is.” Zhan Xingxi chews his lip. “The emperor enjoys keeping him in the dark. He’s been quite clear that no news of the rebellion is to be given to Nie Mingjue, and even A-Cheng– er, I suppose he’s… Sect Leader Jiang?” The guard fidgets a bit more. “Even he is forbidden to speak of it. Not that he can speak of it– oh, you know what I mean.”
He's unsure if he finds the man endearing or annoying. Both, he decides.
“You do understand the need for secrecy,” Meng Yao says, “correct? This cannot be leaked. Even if you are only speaking to someone you can trust, we can only speak openly in a handful of places.” He waves his hand at the room around them. “Caihong’s office is very well warded against eavesdropping. My quarters, as well as Daiyu and Mingxia’s rooms, are as well. Miss Jiang’s cottage. A-Su’s rooms. Those are the only places where we can speak freely.”
His head bobs. “I understand that, my prince.” He swallows. “It's my brother's life that's at stake here. I won't forget that.”
“See that you don't,” Meng Yao says. “If you must tell your brother about this, bring him to one of these places. However, I would strongly prefer you didn't tell him. At least, not yet.” The fewer people who know, the better.
Another very slow nod. “I will wait, at least until things have calmed down with the battles in Qinghe. And I will inform you before I tell him.” A slight, steely glimmer rises in his eyes. “Do you want me to try and gain access to Nie Mingjue?”
Meng Yao ponders this. On one hand, anything he can do to soothe Nie Mingjue’s current misery is a boon to Xichen. On the other, it's a risk. A big risk. Zhan Xingxi is obviously no actor, is he even capable of fooling Wen Ruohan enough to get real, actual time alone with him?
“Do you think you can gain access to him, without being observed, and without arousing anyone's suspicions?”
He fidgets with his hands. “I…” a high and dark blush rises to his face. Meng Yao can't quite tell the emotions behind it. Shame? Arousal? Fear? Anger? It has notes of all four. “I have, er, something of a standing offer. From the emperor. To, ah, well. Use him.” The flush darkens. Definitely shame, with other complexities in it. But largely, shame.
Meng Yao raises his eyebrows. “I… see.”
“I've never– I used to be courting someone,” Xingxi says, rapid and urgent and almost panicked. “Lu Jionggan. I had, I, well, I'd been pining after them for some time, and then we started courting, but they broke it off, and uh,” he rubs his nose. “I was very upset for a while afterwards. And Jionggan is, you could say, um, very similar in stature and figure to Nie Mingjue.” Somehow that flush gets even darker. The man’s almost purple, now. “His Excellency thought it would be a comfort to me. I've never taken him up on it but I didn't…” he trails off, and when he speaks again it's in a low whisper. “I didn't outright refuse either.”
Aha. Apparently Zhan Xingxi hasn't been on Wen Ruohan’s guard long enough to completely lose his sense of morality, but he had become at least somewhat used to the violence. And now, having been reminded that keeping a harem you regularly rape and encourage those close to you to rape as well is both wrong and irregular, he is feeling shame.
Meng Yao shrugs it off. He has to, because there is only so much he can do without seeing everyone dead or worse, and because Zhan Xingxi will have to wrestle with his demons himself on his own time.
“It is a good opportunity,” he says thoughtfully. “However, it is not necessary at this time. If you are uncomfortable with it or unsure, we need not go forward with it.” He waves his hand.
“I imagine his discomfort largely outweighs mine,” Zhan Xingxi says quietly.
“Probably,” Meng Yao agrees. “There is not much we can do about it, at this time. There is no need to stack your discomfort on top of his, when it won't bring us closer to our goal.” Of killing Wen Ruohan. He has to remind himself of that more than he did in the early days. He is going to kill Wen Ruohan. He has to. He must.
“Giving him news of his brother and his home will ease his discomfort,” Zhan Xingxi argues. “I can do something to help him.”
Surprised at the ferocity in his voice, Meng Yao blinks at him. The shy young man who fidgeted and stammered is gone. Now he's sitting next to a war veteran, a master archer with the eyes of a bird of prey. Intent and focused.
He forces himself to relax, unsure of when he tensed up. “Alright,” he acquiesces. “I will set up a meeting between you, A-Huan, and I tomorrow, because he will know better what to tell him. However, it can't be everything.” He should feel guilty about this. He does, maybe, but it's a difficult emotion to pin down. He hates being kept in the dark. And Nie Mingjue’s whole existence has been stuck there for months. Maybe he's past feeling guilty for Nie Mingjue’s situation. All he feels is sadness, now, sadness and something thick and unpleasant he can't identify that might be guilt.
“The truth serum,” Zhan Xingxi mutters. “If he knows, even if he tries to keep it to himself, the serum may well draw it out of him.” He wrinkles his nose. “But the particular serum the emperor favors mostly lowers inhibitions and ability to keep from speaking thoughts. So it does not affect Sect Leader Jiang, I understand now, since he writes.”
The transformation in Zhan Xingxi really is incredible. No more fidgeting, a straight back. He has a target now, Meng Yao realizes. He can focus again, because the future and the way forward is no longer shrouded in mist. Maybe that's what makes him such a good archer, the ability to narrow his entire world down to just one single thing.
If Meng Yao doesn't guide him a little, he’ll make a blunder, but he is competent and, under everything Wen Ruohan’s been exposing him to, kind. He makes a mental note to thank Mingxia for sending him here. The archer will be a powerful asset.
~*~
The hours drag by, too slowly. He has dinner with Jiang Yanli, Sisi, A-Su, and A-Huan. Daiyu is on guard, and if anyone comes by his rooms and finds her inside it will seem suspicious, so Meng Yao tries just to send her updates over their matrix.
“Wen Ruohan is sending out two thirds of the corpse army with Cai Shuili tomorrow,” Miss Jiang says. “Daozhang Song has seen them being prepared, brought to the uppermost levels of the catacombs.”
“How many is two thirds?” Sisi asks, frowning down at her cup of tea.
“Over seven hundred,” Miss Jiang says. “He stopped counting them at seven hundred and fifty.”
A-Huan’s face pales. “That many?”
She just nods. Her face is grave.
“We have to warn them,” A-Huan says, already moving to stand up.
“There is one other option,” Jiang Yanli says before he can stand fully. “I could kill them.” Her voice is perfectly calm, and something about it raises the hair on the back of Meng Yao’s neck. “I could do it tonight, before they have the chance to depart. Or tomorrow morning as they are moving out. If they are some distance from Nightless City when an unknown cultivator wrenches control away from Wen Ruohan and destroys them, it is possible it will be blamed on Xiao Xingchen.”
Meng Yao’s head spins for a moment, slightly overwhelmed with the sheer amount of information all at once.
More than seven hundred and fifty. He had no idea Wen Ruohan could control that many over such a distance without aid of the tiger seal. Qinghe is comparatively not that far away, but still, the distance is staggering.
“They'll be overwhelmed,” Xichen is saying, “unless they shut themselves in. That's too many even with both Huaisang’s group inside and Wangji’s outside.”
He's right. They don't have a choice. They've been saving use of the tiger seal as a last resort, and this is it. Jiang Yanli’s plan of waiting until they're as far away from Nightless City as she can reach them is their best bet.
This means it also may well be time to get Miss Jiang herself out of the city. Meng Yao isn't sure how well she can be protected or how well they'll be able to keep hiding the seal under Wen Ruohan’s nose, if he figures out there is a third demonic cultivator inside Nightless City. If he does, he’ll turn the entire city inside out.
Meng Yao can work with this. He has contingencies for every one of his allies, but Miss Jiang will be the hardest to persuade to leave. Unless Jiang Wanyin goes with her. And even then, the two of them are stubborn and they don't want to leave. Will having things to do on the outside be enough to persuade them to walk away from their brother’s killer?
He opens his mouth to say all of this and is interrupted by a faint, tiny scratching-rustling sound. It's coming from the door.
Xichen hears it too, and they both snap their focus to the door. It's a familiar sound now, one Meng Yao knows very well. A mantis talisman.
As he watches, the folded paper insect finally heaves itself through the tiny opening beneath the door. It is followed immediately by two others, indicating whatever the message is, it was too long for one talisman alone. Usually Huaisang does not send more than two, for all his dramatics he can be very succinct when he wants to be.
Meng Yao turns and stretches out his hand, ready to accept the message, but it doesn't go to him. It makes a beeline for Xichen, clambering up his sleeve, followed by the other two in a perfect line.
So, it isn't a message from Huaisang. Huaisang always sends them to Meng Yao.
“That's unusual,” his husband murmurs, and gently plucks it off the fabric. Instantly it unfolds in his hands. Meng Yao leans over.
The calligraphy is also not Nie Huaisang’s. Huaisang writes very well, but there's always a bit of a slightly improper artist flourish to it. This has no such flourish, it's impossible perfect calligraphy that would make an ancient sage weep. It looks, very strangely, almost identical to Xichen’s calligraphy.
“Wangji,” he whispers.
This is the second message Xichen has received from his brother, the first one being about the army he raised outside of the Unclean Realm. This one is substantially longer. About as long as a mantis talisman message can be, and the presence of three of them means this is a very long message.
Xichen spreads it on the table so everyone else can read, keeping his fingertips on the edges of the paper. As it's keyed to him, if he lets go the talisman will snap back into a mantis, and can't be opened again by anyone else.
Xiongzhang,
I am writing this message to tell you about our new ally. As it has been established that this method of communication is secure and I am sure news of him has already reached you, I felt it prudent you be told.
Xiao Xingchen is not who he seems to be. The man known as Xiao Xingchen died in his cell beneath Nightless City, and gave up his body to a different soul. He used a dark ritual to do so, surrendering his body so the soul he summoned would use it to exact revenge on those who harmed him. The soul that he brought back from death is Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian.
That's the end of the first mantis talisman. Meng Yao’s heart pounds as Xichen slowly, shakily, picks up the second.
The terms of Xiao Xingchen’s revenge are as follows:
- Find Song Zichen, his cultivation partner, and make him aware of Xiao Xingchen’s fate
- Free all the concubines of the emperor
- See Wen Huoyao take his father's place
It is a good thing Meng Yao is already sitting down.
If these terms are not met, Wei Ying’s soul will be destroyed. I know he is who he says he is. He knows things that only Wei Ying could possibly know, he can wield Zidian because the weapon recognizes his soul despite the different body, and he cares for me in that singular way Wei Ying always did. I am certain of his veracity, as are Wen Qing and Nie Huaisang. He can counter the fierce corpses even without use of his seal, and with Healer Wen’s assistance he has avoided harming himself.
Miss Jiang’s mouth falls open. She claps a hand to it and sobs.
Xichen takes the third and final talisman, and lays it on the table.
Wei Ying wishes me to pass on the message that he loves Jiang Yanli and Jiang Wanyin dearly and he will not rest until they both are free. Having him here by my side again is indescribable. I love him, xiongzhang, and he loves me in turn, somehow.
I miss you and hope you are safe.
Lan Wangji
“He’s…” Jiang Yanli trails off, and then lets out a small, hiccuping sob. “A-Xian!”
Qin Su wraps her up in her arms, giving her a shoulder to cry on. Xichen lets go of the paper with one hand to offer the same, and she crumples between them, trembling.
It explains so, so much. Everything, actually. Why he can wield Zidian. Why he was simultaneously so clearheaded and so confused when Meng Yao went to get him from the dungeon. Why Lan Wangji had no protest against him using Zidian. Why he can use demonic cultivation well enough to counter Wen Ruohan even without the tiger seal. And, why he didn't just kill Meng Yao when he made his escape.
“Well,” Meng Yao says, staring down at the talisman. “It's a good thing he told us, plainly, because I would have never figured this out on my own.”
“What will we do about Daozhang Song?” Sisi asks softly. She's gently mopping at Miss Jiang’s tears with a handkerchief.
“We will have to tell him the truth,” Miss Jiang murmurs, her voice wet and ragged. “I don't know if he will be furious with A-Xian…”
“It seems this was something Xiao Xingchen did of his own free will,” A-Su points out. “Probably the first in a very long time, if I'm understanding what happened correctly.”
Miss Jiang lifts her head from where she had it wedged between Xichen’s shoulder and Qin Su’s arm. “What do you think happened?”
“Xiao Xingchen must have seen the ritual he used in Xue Yang’s notes,” she said. “But he probably was not cognizant enough to use or understand it until after he saw Daozhang Song die. Once he was isolated in the dungeon, he took the opportunity to use it.”
“Many of A-Xian’s notes and experiments, at least the ones I've gotten to see, were doable even by someone with their cultivation sealed,” Miss Jiang says. “They were powered either by talismans or sheer resentment alone. Which I'm sure Daozhang Xiao had no shortage of.”
Notes:
And as further extra goodness, after this chapter comes only the weak are not lonely where we finally get to see poor NMJ again.
Chapter 51: Resentful energy hits Meng Yao upside the head like a fist, strong enough to choke the life out of him
Summary:
Disaster in the throne room.
Notes:
Hey. It's, uh, been a while, hasn't it? Still kicking over here. Yep 👍
Chapter Text
"My prince!”
Meng Yao sits up so fast he whacks his head against Xichen’s chin. Both of them groan.
Prior to the frantic knocking on the door of their quarters, they had been enjoying a very nice afternoon nap in their sitting room. Now there’s a rapidly healing bruise on Xichen’s jaw in the shape of Meng Yao’s skull, and he's fairly sure he has a matching one in the shape of his husband's jaw high on his forehead leading into his hair.
“My prince!!” More urgent, almost panicked knocking. Meng Yao jumps out of Xichen’s lap, carefully this time, and runs to the door.
“What?” He demands, when he flings it open and finds Xing Longwei on the other side.
The man’s hair is knocked out of its usual neat topknot, and there's a bleeding gash above his left eyebrow.
“Your father–” Xing Longwei grabs at his arm. “You must come quickly!”
They take off down the hall. “Are we being invaded?” Xichen asks, easily keeping pace.
“No,” Xing Longwei says. “No, it's worse.”
Worse than an invasion? “What is it?”
They round the corner and reach the hallway that leads to the throne room. Resentful energy hits Meng Yao upside the head like a fist, strong enough to choke the life out of him, almost, should it choose to. He's felt this before, but it's been such a long time…
“He's taken the yin iron out of storage,” Xing Longwei whispers, gesturing at the door. “And it's made him…” he trails off. “Unstable. Like he was back when he first started using it. Not quite as bad, but… about thirty minutes ago consort Qin Cangye went in and he hasn't come back out.” He scuffs his foot. “Your sister is concerned.”
Several things hit him at once. First, he doesn't see Qin Su anywhere, and if she was concerned she would have just come and gotten him herself, not sent Longwei. Which means that it is actually Longwei himself who is concerned, and A-Su is a convenient excuse, but none of that matters. Not in the face of the yin iron and the amount of resentful energy he can feel even through a closed door, and when just yesterday this room was almost devoid of it entirely.
He pulls Wen Huoyao over himself like a shroud, too fast, raises his chin, grabs hold of the door, and flings it open with Xichen and Longwei flanking him.
He is prepared for a great many things. Qin Cangye’s dead body, mainly. So when he first sees the man up on the dais, on his feet, red in the face and very much alive and entirely uninjured, it sends a wave of relief down his back.
Then, Huoyao sees the four dead servants on the ground at the foot of the stairs. Then he sees Nie Mingjue, who is gagged and cradling an unconscious but thankfully visibly breathing Jiang Wanyin in his bound hands, on the ground just behind Qin Cangye. Qin Cangye was shielding them. He sees his father wreathed in resentful energy, his hand on his sword and his eyes almost bugged out of his head. His other hand is just underneath three pieces of the hovering, swirling yin iron.
Three. Three pieces. What the hell? There are only two pieces of yin iron in Wen Ruohan's arsenal, unless he's gotten his hands on the tiger seal--
He looks closer. There are only two pieces. Only two. It was just his eyes playing tricks on him and he doesn't have time for this, but panic is making everything slower than it should be. Stretchy and thick like molasses.
He remembers this, from his earliest days working for Wen Ruohan, back when he was just a low ranked advisor. When he didn't have as much of a tolerance for the yin iron and it occasionally would overwhelm him with fury. When the residual energy would sometimes make people nearby see things, things that would frighten them down to their very core.
Supposedly Wen Xu was able to calm him down and bring him out of it, once. He doesn't know how, exactly, but he has a guess. That guess is all he has and he has only a split second to decide that he has no choice but to bet on it.
“Father!”
It has to be the right choice. It has to be, or else Qin Su’s father will die, followed quickly by Huaisang's brother and Jiang Wanyin, who is his friend, who has trusted him. And he cannot abide that.
His father is still moving to unsheath Baoxin, like he can't even hear him. Shouting isn't enough.
“A-die!” He’s almost gliding over the stone floor of the throne room like he has wheels for feet, up the stairs of the dais, and somehow he gets there in time to clamp his hand over his father's wrist just before Baoxin’s tip can leave her sheath.
For a moment, Wen Ruohan’s face twists and sneers at him in a furious, unrecognizable, animal snarl. Baoxin’s tip is out of her sheath, the blade shining ferocious light. Resentment tears at the ends of his hair and sleeves, ripping the fabric and sending twinges of pain up his scalp. He tastes blood and bloodied metal. He ignores it, squeezing his father’s wrist. Holding. Clinging. Begging.
The stairs to the dais are behind him, but they aren't as long as others he has survived being kicked down. If he's going to be kicked down them, he won't have too far to fall, and he is strong enough now to land well and get back up, hopefully fast enough to save Qin Cangye’s life.
“A-die,” he repeats, softer this time. Is the small note of terror in his voice there intentionally, or not? Did he put it there, or is he actually feeling terror and showing it for once? Right now he’s so divorced from himself and so entrenched in this web of his own making that, in this crystal confusing moment, he can't even tell which way is up or who he is or what is real.
“Please, a-die, please don't,” he whispers. The words are trembling. "Stop, please. Stop."
Very, very slowly, Wen Ruohan cocks his head to the left. Some of the black blankness drains from his eyes.
“My son?”
A tendril of resentful energy touches his cheek. He forces himself not to flinch, grimace, or recoil at the frigid sensation. Somehow, it's both dry and slimy. It might sting? He isn't sure. It might sting or it might just be grave-chilled.
“It's me, a-die,” he says, squeezing the wrist of his father's sword arm in both hands now. His fingers are trembling. That, or his father’s arm is trembling. “The yin iron is in your head. There is no need for violence.”
It's definitely his own hands that are trembling. He forces stillness into his muscles and they obey, but it takes more effort than it has in almost a decade. He learned how not to tremble as a young teen, and how to tremble on command a few months later. Usually both come easily.
“You can sheath your sword,” he says. “Everyone is safe. There is no danger.”
Very slowly, as if he's underwater, his father turns fully to face him. He blinks. “Yao’er,” he says.
It's a reminder enough of who he is. What he is. What he has forged himself into in a fire hotter than anything a smith would use. Meng Yao, Wen Huoyao, Yao'er. A-Yao. Maybe he's only been fooling himself up till now, thinking he could choose which to be and when or that he could keep them separated. They are all him and there is nothing he can do to change that and in the sudden absence of the resentful energy he was pushing against with all his might, it's so obvious.
All the resentful energy is gone from Wen Ruohan's eyes.
“My son.”
“Yes,” he says. There is more truth to it than he is entirely comfortable with in this moment. “It's me, and Qin Cangye.”
“Cangye…” he blinks rapidly, his eyes focusing. “Oh, stars. Cangye…”
Qin Cangye clears his throat and steps up next to him. “I'm mostly unhurt, Ruohan,” he says.
Mostly? He doesn't like the sound of that, but the idea of looking away from his father right now feels too dangerous. He can't check Qin Cangye for injuries right now. He is only one man. He can't do everything.
“It… it isn't safe for you here,” his father whispers. “Return to your quarters.”
“I'll escort you,” Xing Longwei offers. “And take A-Cheng to the healers.”
He hears the shuffle of feet, the door opening and closing. They've gone. Thank goodness.
“A-die,” he says, “don't you usually wield the yin iron from down in the catacombs?” He finally makes himself release his father’s wrist. “There are safeguards down there to prevent these things from happening.”
Wen Ruohan waves his hand, somewhat dismissively. “Yes, indeed there are. And I do. However, those safeguards don't come without a price. They protect me from being fully taken over by the yin iron, but also limit what I can do with it. Xiao Xingchen is surprisingly adept with the tiger seal.”
He has to fight the urge to take a step back. “You are afraid you cannot fight him without using the full strength of the yin iron?”
“Not without leaving Nightless City. Which would amount to the same thing. If I must go crush this paltry rebellion in person, I will have to take the yin iron with me, and I will be without the safeguards in the catacombs here regardless.”
His mind whirls. If Wen Ruohan goes to the Unclean Realm personally and brings both the yin iron and the majority of the corpse army with him, the rebellion will be crushed. Wei Wuxian in Xiao Xingchen’s body may be able to pose a challenge to Wen Ruohan when he is working over such a distance and apparently with whatever limitations the safeguards impose on him, but if that distance were to close…
They will die. They will all die. Lan Wangji and Lan Qiren and what is left of Xichen’s family. Huaisang, who has kept faith in him all this time. Wen Qing, brave Wen Qing, and kind Qionglin. Jin Zixuan, who he neither loves nor pities but still wants the best for. They'll all die horribly, if they're lucky, and then, everything he has done will be for nothing. All he has been will be for nothing. Wen Huoyao will be for nothing. An empty shell. A mask that serves a hollow, selfish purpose like every other mask he has ever used to cover up the fact that at the core he is barely even a person, just a construct of anger and sand. It will be for nothing and he will be everything Nie Mingjue believed him to be. Unworthy of even life, to say nothing of being worthy of Xichen.
“...not as much of a threat as they believe themselves to be, but they have taken too much from us,” Wen Ruohan is saying. Then he stops talking abruptly, and gives him a strange look. “Yao’er? Are you well?”
“I'm fine,” he says reflexively, like he is so practiced in saying, except, his voice catches.
Wen Ruohan reaches out to touch his cheek, wiping it with his thumb.
He is crying. Hot, boiling tears that drip off his jaw and splatter on the floor, like droplets of blood. Like he's wounded and he hasn't noticed until this moment, but he isn't. He is whole and hale, and breaking to pieces inside.
Why the hell is he crying? This is a terrible moment to cry! He tries to swallow it back into himself, turn it off, but he can't. It just keeps coming out like his face is broken. He's cried in front of Wen Ruohan before, once even without it being planned, but it can't be now, he's supposed to be better, now, settled, proud, comfortable! He has been a prince for months, he should–
Warm arms wrap around him. His father pulls him into a hug, settling his head against his shoulder. “I frightened you,” he says softly. “I made you think I would hurt you, or Cangye, didn't I?”
He tries to speak, to deny it, and his voice dies in his throat. He isn't sobbing, just… bleeding every emotion from his eye sockets. He can't even move for a few moments, not to return the embrace or deny it, and he still can't untangle himself from himself enough to understand what he is feeling among the rock slide.
He is feeling everything. Love, for this evil man, because here he stands, the most broken he's been in years and he touches him gently. Hate for him as well, because he knows exactly what Wen Ruohan is and he has felt pain and worse from the hands of peiole who were just like him. Shame for loving him in spite of it all and for feeling safe, here of all places, even with the tang of the yin iron’s horrible power still sitting on his tongue and the smear of leftover resentful energy on his cheek. Fear of the resentful energy and of his father and of what he knows he has to do, and rage at that, too. Rage at himself. Vile, rending rage. At the world, and all the circumstances that brought him into being and then brought him here, into this throne room and into Wen Ruohan’s arms.
In his sleeve, the Seer’s dagger burns against his skin, like the spirit inside wants to remind him.
He could do it, right here and now.
The only witnesses would be Nie Mingjue, Xichen, and the servant's corpses.
His father is distracted enough that he could probably get a single blow in, right at the back of the neck, between the topmost vertebrae of the spine. He’s thought about it plenty and he’s killed like that before, so he knows it is fast and effective and most certainly the best way to kill Wen Ruohan. He was out of his mind with the yin iron not that long ago. He could say it was self defense. He could more than act like a loyal son torn in two by having to kill his own father when he was driven mad. It would not be difficult.
Huoyao slowly reaches for the string in his sleeve with his fingertips. His joints hurt, and he's aware of the knuckles of his hands in a way he’s never been before. He’s still crying, unable to stop. He doesn't think it has ever been this hard or this painful to move before in his life, even right after his trip down the stairs of Carp Tower.
“Excellency!” The door to the throne room flies open, and several sets of feet run inside.
Damn.
Wen Ruohan releases him. Whatever emotional spell was cast on him that kept him crying seems to have broken, and Huoyao dries his face on the inside of his sleeve before he faces the newcomers. Wen Qisen and Zhan Xingxi, along with a few other guards. They crowd up the stairs, and Qisen sweeps his father away.
“Are you alright, my prince?” Xingxi murmurs quietly, and he realizes that Xichen is standing right next to him. How long has he been there?
“A-Yao,” he murmurs, and wraps him in his arms. “It's alright. It's alright. I've got you. It's alright.”
~*~
The loss of control sets back Wen Ruohan’s intended departure of the corpse army to Qinghe by a day. This is fortuitous, because it takes almost half that time for Meng Yao to recover from… whatever that was. To come down from the adrenaline and think clearly again.
“I almost had him,” he murmurs to Xichen in the middle of the night. “While he was holding me on the stairs. I almost got my dagger through the back of his neck.”
Xichen squeezes him. “I know,” he whispers back through the darkness. “I saw. We will have another chance.”
Meng Yao just hopes the next chance is less emotionally fraught and draining, but a niggling feeling in the back of his mind is laughing at him.
Yanli destroys the corpse army according to plan and refuses to leave, even when Meng Yao has everything arranged for her and Wanyin to leave together. They both independently refuse before the army is destroyed and then refuse again together.
And then the army is almost out of range and Meng Yao is out of bargaining time, and resentful energy sweeps over Nightless City like wings of death.
He's in the throne room when it happens. At his father's right hand. Wen Ruohan howls like a wolf gone rabid and staggers to his feet, blood streaming from his mouth, eyes, and nose.
“A-die!” Meng Yao jumps up after him, steadying him, taking all the fear he is carrying for Yanli and Wanyin’s safety and wearing it on his face.
“Xiao Xingchen,” he snarls, and it is so hard to keep his relief inside. “My army…”
Meng Yao helps his father back to his seat, like a good, dutiful son, Qisen and Longwei fussing on the sidelines. “What happened, father?”
With barely contained fury, he snarls “Longwei, assemble a guard to scout the outer edges of the city and surrounding lands, as well as the area where the corpse army last was. Xiao Xingchen must be close by, to have seized control from me and destroyed all my fierce corpses.”
Qisen goes pale. “...all of them, your Excellency?”
Wen Ruohan passes his hand over his eyes. “All those on the road to Qinghe,” he says gravely.
Meng Yao’s heart does a small flip in his chest. He never doubted Yanli’s ability, if she said she could do it then he believed her, but having it behind them is more reassuring than he anticipated. And Wen Ruohan doesn't seem suspicious at all.
“You are sure that it's Xiao Xingchen?” Longwei asks.
“I felt the touch of the tiger seal,” Wen Ruohan says with another hint of yin iron touched rage. “It is him, and I gave you an order!”
Going stiff, Longwei executes a shaky bow and all but runs from the room.
“Ruohan,” Qisen speaks up, his voice quiet and calm. He reaches out as if to put a hand on the emperor's shoulder.
He snarls again and the blackened energy, which has needed almost no time at all to seep into every crack and crevice of this room once more, lashes the air.
Wen Qisen’s hand never makes it to his old friend's shoulder. Wen Ruohan lashes out first with a palm strike to his chest, Meng Yao hears something sturdy crack and crunch.
It's strange, to be standing at the top of a flight of stairs and watching someone else fall, down, away from him. Strange to watch the shock and betrayal and pain wash over their face. Meng Yao has to wonder if he looked like that when he was thrown out, just a child who pinned his hopes on the wrong man.
Unlike teenage Meng Yao, Wen Qisen is an adult and a cultivator and he does not fall far or hit the ground, because Xichen is there. Meng Yao has not wanted him on the dais, not so close to the emperor when he is this unstable, and so he has been ostensibly standing guard at the foot of the dais with Daiyu. And he catches Wen Qisen easily, before he can hit the ground, and sets him on his feet.
Thank you, Meng Yao writes to his husband before he realizes that he's even thankful.
Xichen looks up at him with heavy, worried eyes. He doesn't say anything, out loud or over the matrix. He doesn't have to. Meng Yao can read the message in his eyes clear as sun on still water.
This is unsustainable. This has to end. This could have been over already, if he wasn't such a failure.
That last part comes not from Xichen's eyes but Meng Yao's own soul. He has to end it. It has to end.
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