This fic is based loosely off canon events, so it's basically just me taking liberties with everything that happened. You will find familiar events and a roughly similar timeline to canon, but a change in anyone's behavior will set off the butterfly effect- maybe greatly, maybe barely. So don't be thrown if things unfold differently.
I find I'm unable to move on from the tragic XiYao ending, and I am an unabashed JGY apologist. I've thought a lot about how things might have been "if only." And what catches me most is: What if Meng Yao had trusted Lan Xichen enough to open up to him about his dark thoughts? His personal torments? The chains of society he can't break legally? In turn, what if Lan Xichen hadn't waited for Meng Yao to open up to him, therefore intervening before it's too late for his redemption?
A few things to note:
1- I am no fan of Nie Mingjue. I have no intentions of butchering his character, but I have delved deeper into the clues I picked up on in canon and I didn't sugar coat it. No, hes not a monstrous, raping, killing machine; however, he definitely has... issues. Such as anger problems, inability to see from others pov's, indifference to Meng Yao's unfair treatment and Nie Huaisang's delicate nature, unhealthy obsession with Meng Yao - both emotionally and sexually, to name a few.
2- I believe strongly that Meng Yao cared for and respected Nie Mingjue. Until. And you will see this unfold here.
3- The Lan Clan Love Curse is a real thing in this fic. The details of it will be revealed, but rest assured his feelings for Meng Yao are entirely his own. They aren't falsified by an enchantment.
4- Nie Huaisang has a huge one-sided crush on Wei Wuxian.
5- I also believe that Nie Huaisang really loved and cared about Meng Yao- I wanted to portray their relationship in this way and sustain it.
Last note: I don't know a lick of Chinese. I went back and forth on how to use names in this, and decided to use them according to how I normally see them used in fic. So I will be using titles, nicknames, proper names, common names as fit. IF I GET ANY OF THEM WRONG, PLEASE LET ME KNOW AND I WILL FIX IT! ^_^
Chapter 1: Peonies
It doesn't come as a surprise to him, this first kiss. Although later, when he looks back, he may start to wonder why it hadn't. This single moment changes so many things: it's the beginning of his undoing, the first thread unraveling the tight ball of self-preservation knotted up around his heart. So precious is that thread, both strong and flexible, begun by his loving mother and continued on in his own hands. It's a masterpiece of protection, and the only compass he knows how to follow.
His path, his direction, his loyalty, his very mind will become muddled where it had once been clear. His confidence will be shaken where it had once been a strong and sturdy shield. But he doesn't stop it, this kiss of many firsts. No, he encourages it, gentle hands coming up to rest on the strong forearms bracketing his waist.
Lan Xichen makes him feel small in all the right ways. Not like his father had, when Meng Yao had been crumpled like a piece of soiled parchment and tossed to the bottom of a magnificent staircase. Not like Nie Mingjue does, when his jealous temper blooms sweet violet and sour yellow on Meng Yao's porcelain skin.
Lan Xichen makes him feel warm and vulnerable, dangerously breakable. And safe. This alluring feeling that's somehow both ancient and alien is too tempting to resist. He parts his lips under gentle pressure and allows the sweetly imploring brush of tongue against his. Meng Yao has done far more scandalous things with his mouth than this, but nothing so intimate. Never so intimate.
He catches himself before he can slide his hands up the muscular arms to the broad shoulders and pin them around Lan Xichen's neck, a compulsion so foreign to his instincts that he wonders vaguely if the urge is an echo of something he'd read somewhere. But as quickly as the thought gathers, it disappears like the colored burst of a festival fire flower.
And that fire, it seems, must have sparked to life without forewarning some time ago.
Meng Yao pulls out of the kiss like it burns, and oh does it ever—but the licks of flame are pleasurable, delicious. And isn't that the surprising part of this tryst? Not that Lan Xichen has dared to sully himself by kissing a whore's son, but that the whore's son feels something fragile stir deep in the dregs of his soul. That, and the fact that Lan Xichen is no novice when it comes to the art of kissing.
It's the latter revelation that Meng Yao holds to as he faces the concerned eyes before him. He has never faked a smile for Lan Xichen before, but he finds now that he must in order to cover the quickly rising heat in his cheeks and the panicked confusion in his mind.
"Forgive my impertinence," he says without a hitch. "I'm a bit thrown that Young Master Lan has had the opportunity to become so refined in such a skill."
Lan Xichen looks down with a small laugh, then raises his smiling eyes back to Meng Yao's.
"Come," he says, holding out his bent arm. "Walk with me a while."
Meng Yao slips a small hand into the offered elbow, not unused to this sort of attention from Lan Xichen. He has been spoiled with chivalry and peppered with tender gestures since their first meeting, months behind them now.
They begin an unhurried promenade along the garden path, taking in the night air, heavy and sweet with the scent of blooming peonies and wisteria trees. In the distance, the sounds of the banquet can be heard—nothing but a faint glimmering, but a good reminder of the occasion: Jin Zixuan's birthday.
And Meng Yao's. Not that it matters anymore. What matters is that this day has now become an occasion in which to spend more time with Lan Xichen without either of them-or even their clans-being at the forefront of the gathering. He could imagine few other ways to spend his evening that would bring him as much peace of heart.
"You are not wrong," Lan Xichen says. "I have had two lovers in the past. Both male. In between, I was propositioned by the Yingchuan Wang Clan to take their first daughter in marriage. I met with her briefly to satisfy courtesies, but nothing came of it."
Meng Yao listens carefully, sharply attuned to detect vulnerabilities in his speech. But Lan Xichen seems not at all plagued with heartache. On the contrary, he is still smiling, albeit a bit mischievously. Usually, it is not prudent to pry, especially into one's relationships; however, Lan Xichen has offered up this topic, very possibly an exchange for Meng Yao having offered the story of his parentage during their last meeting. They had started out with simple topics, and it seems each encounter naturally brings them to new heights of shared intimacy.
So Meng Yao hedges for only a moment before asking, "In what areas did your expectations for a wife fall short with Lady Yingchuan?"
The typical answer for someone of Lan Xichen's rank would be that her pedigree is unimpressive; that her family is not wealthy or powerful enough to bring honor to their clan; that she has a feeble disposition that could cause his children to be weak; or simply that she was not beautiful or full enough in the breasts. Another man would not be worth asking, but Lan Xichen…
"First, she's a woman," he says, and they both laugh. Not because it's a joke, but because it's the truth.
The first deep secret Lan Xichen had told him was that he is a Cut Sleeve. While this seems to be quite the momentous confession, it didn't arise from nothing. Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian had apparently been sharing books with content not altogether savory during their studies in the Cloud Recesses, and the pair of them had been too careless in hiding it well enough. Meng Yao had been the first to come upon the boys while they giggled over the graphic illustrations near the stream, but as he was delicately reminding them of the shame it could cause-had someone less forgiving found them-Lan Xichen appeared behind him. Nie Huaisang had been so terrified that he couldn't speak, and Wei Wuxian was impressively unapologetic.
Lan Xichen did confiscate the book but gave it to Meng Yao to take back to the Unclean Realm.
"I didn't give this to him, and he certainly didn't get it from there," Meng Yao had said, as the two of them went on their way from the boys. "I apologize sincerely on behalf of his behavior. If there is anything I can-"
"It's okay," Lan Xichen had said, mildly. "It wasn't so long ago that I was a teenager. I understand about these things. This time, we'll keep it between us."
Meng Yao had been struck all over again by his easygoing nature. Nothing was ever okay when someone lowborn had any connections with it, directly or indirectly. His worry still wasn't quieted.
"It's generous of you." Meng Yao comes to a stop just before a bridge. When Lan Xichen is facing him, he continues. "But I must express my concerns about the taboo content, considering it could lead to punishments undeserved and attempts at conversion which are inappropriate and unnecessary. I understand that many clans take issue with-"
Lan Xichen takes hold of his balled hands to silence him. "A-Yao," he says, the first time calling him that. "I understand your concern. I am a Cut Sleeve myself. I have faced my share of difficulties, and I assure you the Lan Clan does not discriminate against such natural developments."
Meng Yao had been impressed with both Lan Xichen and the Lan clan. He had folded his arms then and bowed his thanks, allowing the matter to come to an end.
They had not discussed it since; there had been no reason to. Now, as the subject of lovers comes around, it is an easy transition into the topic.
"My uncle asked me to consider the match regardless," Lan Xichen continues on about Lady Yingchuan. "He assured me that a marriage need not involve love. I disagree."
Meng Yao considers this, barely seeing the beautiful night as they continue their stroll back up the garden's length. "And did you not hold this necessary affection for either of your male lovers?"
"No." The answer is immediate. "Affection, yes. But not the love that I seek."
Beneath the stars, they cross over a koi pond, crickets and frogs serenading their passage.
When Meng Yao speaks again, it's thoughtfully. "Although I do understand that sometimes a beneficial match mustn't be overlooked if it's for the good of the clan, I can't say with honesty that I am unhappy with your decision."
Lan Xichen stops short, halting Meng Yao with him. Slowly, Meng Yao turns to face him. He has to look up for their eyes to meet.
"A'Yao," Lan Xichen says, one warm hand encircling Meng Yao's bicep like an armlet. "Have you taken a lover?"
Meng Yao smiles. It's a question he never expected to be asked. But Lan Xichen never assumes, and Meng Yao adores that.
"No. Never. Not female, not male."
Lan Xichen's grip loosens, and Meng Yao considers leaving it at that, but it bears further explanation. He cannot allow Lan Xichen to believe he is pure when he is far from it.
"Please don't misunderstand," He goes on. "Though I have never had a proper lover, I am no stranger to performing special services."
"With Nie Mingjue?" Lan Xichen's words sound tight, like he can't catch a breath.
Meng Yao nods. "During my time in the Unclean Realm, the duties that would normally be reserved for a wife have been dispatched to me. This includes being Nie Huaisang's charge, as well as performing Bedchamber Company for Master Nie. Not for pay, not for favors. Not for anything besides my wish to display my gratitude."
"Was it you who offered this service?" Lan Xichen asks. "Have you been forced?"
Meng Yao shakes his head. "I became aware of his need when he began attempting to seduce me. I wasn't receptive to this, so I came to a compromise: as long as my own body is not being touched, I do not mind providing until Nie Mingjue takes a wife. Not when I owe my life and my training to him."
It's unclear what Lan Xichen is thinking from his expression alone, but it's not too difficult to see he is in some way displeased with this news.
Carefully, in a voice like walking on eggshells, Meng Yao asks, "Have I lost so much merit? Can you no longer respect me?"
Lan Xichen shakes his head, both answering in the negative as well as seeming to snap himself back to the present. He cups Meng Yao's cheek and skims a gentle thumb beneath his eye.
"Such a fragile heart," he whispers. "I can see it in your eyes, and I can taste your soul on your breath. I don't believe anything you do could lessen my regard for you. And I don't believe that pleasure is an evil, but a gift. It should be given carefully, and it should be taken carefully."
Meng Yao wants to both break away from the intensity of this stare and never look to anyone or anything else again. He feels the magnetism between them growing stronger, pulling him in without consent. But if Lan Xichen wants to kiss him again, he will not stop him.
As the mesmerizing warmth of breath ghosts over his mouth, an onslaught of voices reaches them, invasive and jarring to their peaceful privacy. They both pull back before lips can touch lips. Meng Yao takes a step back, disconnecting their entwined hands.
"It may be best to go back to the banquet before we're missed," he suggests, although he suspects they already have been. Among the group he can clearly hear Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Cheng. The Trio of Trouble.
"Wait," Lan Xichen says. "Before you go…" He reaches into the folds of his robes and removes a small, leather book. "It's also your birthday, isn't it?"
Meng Yao blinks hard. "How …?"
Lan Xichen saves him from his floundering mind by saying simply, "I take that as an affirmative." And presses the book into Meng Yao's hands.
Meng Yao looks down at it, moved by the gesture and the very feel of new leather in his hands.
"A Collection of Yunping Poetry," he reads, running wondering fingers across the embossed title. He looks up into warm, smiling eyes. "How can I accept this? I don't deserve gifts from someone of your rank."
"I beg of you," Lan Xichen says. "Please don't look at my rank. See me as I see you: as a person with intrinsic value and equal worth."
"Er-ge!" Nie Huaisang's voice cuts clear through the night. "Er-ge!"
The two of them turn toward the commotion. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are still in the distance, but Nie Huaisang is running toward them full speed, clearly distressed. When he reaches them, he clings to Meng Yao's robes.
"Er-ge, Wei Wuxian ruined my fan! It can't be saved. It was doused with Emperor's Smile!"
He's near tears over this, and his desperation can't be ignored. Meng Yao slips his gift into the inner pocket of his robes and uncurls Nie Huaisang's fists to release the bunched material.
Sympathetically, Meng Yao begins herding Nie Huaisang back toward the banquet. "Why would Wei Wuxian do such a thing?"
"Well…" Nie Huaisang says, a little less dramatically. "I guess he didn't ruin it on purpose."
As he chatters on about what happened to his precious trinket, Meng Yao looks over his shoulder to Lan Xichen, gracing him with a bright, honest smile.
There is more to the gift than Meng Yao had initially realized.
He waits until he's alone in his bedchambers, washed and ready for bed, before taking it up from his dressing table and moving to sit in the lotus position by the open window, where the cool night air filters in. A single incense stick burns beside him, with the hopes that the lavender will ease his headache.
One of the incentives of being a disciple of the Nie Clan is the privacy allotted them in their own chambers. In Yunping City, he and his mother had shared a room with two other women and one other child. Anything unattended was liable to go missing-not necessarily by their roommates-but by their roommates' customers. Here, what was his remained his.
He also didn't need to worry about being disturbed. And even if he were, it would be preceded by a request for entrance rather than some filthy fish-seller bursting into the room, breath rank with alcohol and demanding service. Now Meng Yao is able to fully relax, concentrate, meditate, or in this case, appreciate.
By candlelight, he admires the handiwork of the cover, turning it to run his palm over the smooth backing and slick spine. It has a handsome, intricately stitched binding and pages filled with stunning calligraphy. He brushes a fingertip across the edges, fanning them open-back to front-to admire a swift glimpse inside. When he opens the cover to the first page, he's met with a folded parchment letter and a glint of gold winking at him from the spine.
He takes them both up, noting first the dark ink of his written name on the parchment, and then the shining strand of gold.
It's a braided chain bracelet, thin and delicate, with two jade fu lions facing each other at the clasp. He touches each one, overwhelmed by their beauty, and then opens the parchment. In the same carefully-inked hand as his name, he reads the correspondence:
A -Yao,
As you know, the fu lion is a symbol of fierce protection. Although you are more than capable of defending yourself-as well as others-I find that I often wish to shield you from every danger and every slight that may come your way. I meditate daily on your well-being and burn incense in prayer that we will be reunited again in good health.
Please accept this gift as not only a protective emblem, but also as a reminder of my affections for you, which run deeper than my veins.
-Lan Xichen.
This time, Meng Yao doesn't try to quell the soft stirring in his heart. Safe in his quiet room, he allows it to stretch and flutter to life. The sensation is strange, but not unpleasant. There is a warmth to it that spreads throughout his entire being, full and comforting.
He slinks the bracelet over his wrist and gets the clasp on the first try. It rolls neatly into place, neither falling over his hand nor sliding too far up his forearm. Perfect, no matter his duties. Lan Xichen's energy is still lingering on it, providing Meng Yao a sense of security that relaxes his mind and eases the tension constantly present in his spine.
He should write a letter thanking Lan Xichen for his thoughtfulness. But at the moment his reserves are depleted by too many snubs, whispers, and displays of disrespect. Mingling with other clans is always exhausting. He's placed in the awkward position of often smoothing over ruffled feathers when his own are so haggard he can no longer fly. Post social events, he's left drained and insomnolent with lingering anxiety. Every slight against him is absorbed and retained behind a fake smile fortified with grace.
The letter, he decides, can wait until tomorrow. Better that he collect his thoughts and convey his gratitude when his mind is sharp and his lips aren't still honeyed with Lan Xichen's particular blend of mint and green tea flavored kisses. He doesn't want his bitterness toward others to bleed into his message, and he doesn't want his animalistic instincts to taint the meaning. It's true that a single smile from Lan Xichen can stoke the cold whispers of carnal need into a wildfire deep between Meng Yao's hipbones; however, it was one thing to have that reaction and quite another to act upon it. Lan Xichen is clearly flirting, but Meng Yao would be mad to assume it is courtship. No matter his own desires, he will never cross the line. He will never ask for more.
Meng Yao closes the letter back into the book and hugs it to his chest. He leans his cheek against the cool wall and closes his eyes, breathing deeply of the incense.
It is truly remarkable that Lan Xichen was able to initiate a kiss after the disgusting things some Jin Clan disciples had been saying about him. And they had said them none too quietly when he had first arrived at Lan Xichen's side and they had witnessed the Lan leader stop Meng Yao mid-bow. Speculations about his own sexual appetites, about low-borns and the diseases that they carry, about the lewd things they would do for a piece of silver or a bottle of Emperor's Smile rose like the smoke of a newly burned sacrifice.
At the fresh memory, Meng Yao's temples throb with swelling pain.
He reopens his eyes and forces himself up. The book finds a home between a few of his other volumes, hidden in plain sight so no questions will be asked if someone were to visit him in his chambers. It may be unlikely for someone to steal from him, but it wasn't unlikely they'd paw into his business if they saw something new.
In bed, he pulls the netting closed and sinks to his nose beneath the sheets. He knows it's not logical; a childhood pacification that he's never outgrown, perhaps—but somehow, he feels safer this way, hidden from eyes that aren't even there to watch him.
He puts his braceleted wrist against his heart, drawing warmer comfort from Lan Xichen's spiritual energy vibrating within the jade. Slowly, a calmness steals over him, hushed and gentle. It helps him find sleep easier than he has in a while.
NOTES: ^_^