This is a very impromptu chapter 2. In fact, I think this might be the first time I've ever written a continuation of a canon divergence fic (though I haven't written that many, mind you). The inspiration struck, so I Had To. Hope you like~
He lived quietly, buried in dusty bookshelves, his nose scanning over crumbling pages, tending to his own wounds after his mother died. It was a miracle he'd been able to achieve this much, he thought, lost in the crowd so as not to get cornered in alleys anymore, where others' hands could force him. He would have been perfectly happy with less.
When a man in arctic robes crossed his path, and the first cold whiffs of winter licked Yao's face, he wondered if he'd walked straight into a dream. The figure was hunched over in an alcove, armfuls of scrolls tumbling out of sleeves that glimmered blue and white. The man was hesitant as his head lifted toward Yao, a few paces away, death on his face, the wind battering against his tall and slender body. The movement of his hanfu created the illusion that his body wiggled with the wind; sharp, refined silver hairpiece tall enough to reach up to the Heavens.
Snatching up a few books himself, Yao rushed to the help of this ethereal stranger. He gathered scrolls from the ground before they became mired with mud and was enchanted by the man's thin but gentle smile, the dark circles under his eyes conveying more than a few words could. Despite the warnings blaring in the back of his mind like thunder in nocturnal clouds, about the intentions or whereabouts of this stranger, Yao offered his home. He fed the stranger what meager rations he possessed. Then the man told Yao what had become of his home.
Overrun by red sunbursts fluttering in the wind, enveloped in flames of insatiable, vain jealousy – Yao sat stalk still, legs curled underneath him, hands on his knees, hardly taking it in. The man was none other than Lan Xichen, heir to Gusu. The same Lan Clan that bred cultivators of divine wisdom and otherworldly grace who had protected the land and the Dao for generations. But Yao soon learned the draconian reputation of that title hardly suited the person before him. More than anything, he was worried Lan Xichen would scrunch his nose at the sight of his small and stingy space – but the heir, soon-to-be clan leader, made no such motion. He was more than thankful for Yao's help.
In the coming days, Lan Xichen rose late and slept early, but he spoke pleasantly with Yao about many things. He never once appeared judgmental, haughty, or unkind. Yao's passion for literature as a bookkeeper and his amazement that Yao brought himself to full Kanji literacy on his own urged the Lan heir to offer the sacred manuscripts he'd salvaged from Gusu for exploration. Yao adamantly refused, knowing the secrecy of those teachings, but Lan Xichen insisted, adding Yao may not understand any of it anyway.
Over those few months, Yao gained much knowledge about cultivators of the Dao who reveled in the arts – they studied music and calligraphy to attune themselves to qi in the world around them, meditated in damp earthen caves in hopes of gaining immortality, as their progenitor Lao Tzu had. Their discussions on the Dao were stimulating, and opened Yao's mind to the world beyond Yunping. He longed for an existence that was more than living everyday in fear, his head buried in books – and Lan Xichen's carefree demeanor occupying his dwelling every night when he returned from his bookkeeping job filled Yao's home with comfort and warmth. The young cultivator was unable to leave often due to the Wen threat hanging over his head, prowling the streets at Clan Leader Jin's sufferance. In that time, Yao's home glowed more than it had in all the months he'd lived there alone, since his mother passed.
This high-born cultivator, to whom he should have been nobody, gave Yao his full attention, discussed sacred texts with him as if he was a peer, smiled at him with ease. Yao felt seen, morethan he ever had while surrounded by his mother's patrons, rejected by his father, at the mercy of others' ridicule and the lewd desires of men.
Unfortunately, the Lan heir was as aloof as mountain mist: As soon as you realized its dazzling glory, veiling the morning sun – it vanished.
There was a twinkle in Lan Xichen's dreamy countenance as he bowed and thanked Yao for his help, standing at the door – as if he were the commoner and Yao the esteemed cultivator. Scrolls gathered once again in his arms, he halted at the lost entrancement and forlornness in Yao's face. Then he stepped closer, too close for Yao to move away. Slender fingers brushed Yao's chin, and he quivered from the reluctant yearning in his heart. Xichen smiled when Yao looked up at him with pleading eyes. His eyelids fluttered closed.
The next time he opened them, Lan Xichen was gone.
Yao remembered standing there in his tiny room. The world spun around him as he slumped to the ground from the sudden onset of vertigo. It was as if he were the center of the universe, but only realized at that very moment how unconsciously the stars spun around him, destabilizing his own momentum. Although Yao's knowledge of the Dao was fragmentary, he couldn't help but think if there was anyone who could live up to Lao Tzu in aura and ability, it must be Lan Xichen. His coal-grey world had transformed into gold so quickly, only to fade into grey again, now that Lan Xichen was gone. Yao ached for more of that brilliant light, refracted like a gem in the morning sun – but as it stood, they were never to cross paths again.
Yao despaired. He would never match the gentle grace of the Lan heir, no matter how enamored he'd become by the carefree fluidity of the Dao since Lan Xichen stayed at his home. And Yao found himself nostalgic, grieving over a destiny that was never meant to be. He wished he could join Lan Xichen in Gusu, stuck in his isolation as a mere bookkeeper in Yunmeng.
Eventually, in his morose, he recalled something Lan Xichen said. The leader of Nie Clan was recruiting members across the land, searching for loyalists to combat Wen domination.
Yao had nowhere else to go – why stay where he would be nothing more than a prostitute's son, a boy with misplaced entitlement to the Jin throne? A quiet bookkeeper, a hapless victim of circumstance? Yao packed his bags and left.
What he couldn't have known was that Clan Leader Nie would further divert his destiny, in more ways than he imagined, setting out from the gentrified and convoluted pathways of Yunping, a hopeful but ignorant devotee.
. . .
The stench of blood permeated the prison walls as Mingjue held Meng Yao in his arms. The other's face was stained with tears as they pulled away, but he seemed otherwise present and physically unharmed. They were alone now, save for a few Nie Clan guards who roamed about, gathering weapons, moving bodies. They paid the Clan Leader and his advisor little heed.
Mingjue asked his original question again, this time in a subdued tone. "What happened?"
A silver gleam beneath Meng Yao's pooling hanfu drew Mingjue's attention: The blade he'd seen Meng Yao procure before stepping into the prison. Mingjue quickly let go of Meng Yao's hands. He stood, helped the other to his feet. They exited the adumbral prison and crossed the grand stone walkway back to the main throughroad. Nie Huaisang lingered at the base of the stairs, leading to the courtyard. He paced with a fan in his hands.
Huaisang's face lifted as soon as he spotted them. "Big Bro, Meng Yao! What happened?! Are you okay?! I saw all the commotion with the guards and I thought the worst and –"
Huaisang took in their cataleptic states. Meng Yao wouldn't look at him, uncharacteristic to his usual air of confident grace. The hollowness of Mingjue's own cheeks pricked Huaisang, so he placed a hand on Huaisang's shoulder. He said, "I want you to thank the other cultivators for joining us in Qinghe and for their help in capturing Xue Yang. I have other matters to attend to while the soldiers tally our losses."
Mingjue's bluntness and the blood on his sleeves further awakened Huaisang. His gaze darted past Mingjue, to Meng Yao, his lips posed in question, but Meng Yao still avoided him. Mingjue sank his hand farther into Huaisang's shoulder before they walked past.
They left the young Nie at the bottom of the stairs to watch them ascend, alone.
When they stood before the throne room doors, Mingjue finally stopped. "You should change clothes and wash yourself," he advised Meng Yao, seeing as the other was grimy, covered in tears and blood. Meng Yao nodded solemnly, his head bowed. He glanced at the soldiers on the periphery of the courtyard again as they rushed back and forth, carrying medical supplies.
Mingjue swallowed. In this moment, he didn't care who saw them. He placed his hands on Meng Yao's delicate shoulders and squeezed slightly in what he hoped was comfort, though the other jolted under his strong grip. "Meng Yao, please. Tell me what happened."
The words made Meng Yao look up at him, remorseful in his hope.
"I was so afraid," he uttered finally.
"I know," Mingjue said. "I saw him raise his sword –"
"I was afraid… you'd agree with him."
Meng Yao never once interrupted him, not in all the years he'd lived in Qinghe. His phrasing perplexed Mingjue. "What do you mean?"
Meng Yao smiled, a tragic contour to his eyebrows.
Mingjue recalled the sword lying at Meng Yao's side. "I saw you enter the prison with a blade."
"Yes."
"What did you see?"
Meng Yao intook a deep breath. Mingjue's hands rose on his shoulders, so he brought his arms back to his sides.
"He… he wanted to frame me for… the escape of Xue Yang."
"The captain of the guard?"
"Yes."
"…Why would he do that?"
"He always hated me. Ever since I arrived in Qinghe, he insulted me, beat me, humiliated me… He always took credit for the things you ordered him to do, but I actually ended up doing." Meng Yao fell silent. His stare had become glassy again, focused on the stones past Mingjue's shoes.
A prickle arose in Mingjue's scalp. "Why did you never tell me?"
At this, Meng Yao was startled. The confusion and conflict in his face further roused the sinking feeling in Mingjue's gut. Wisps of betrayal, anger, and dread swirled in a pond like carnivorous fish. It was a primeval fear he couldn't quite name.
"I knew you wouldn't agree with me," the other said earnestly.
Mingjue's patience ran thin. Mad and fearful, his mind concocted all kinds of reasons why Meng Yao would hide such a thing from him. None of them were good.
"I wouldn't agree with what? Speak clearly."
"I wanted to kill him."
Unable to bear the darkness in those eyes, Mingjue turned away, to the guards on the edge of the courtyard. They were too far away to hear what they were saying, but hovered inconspicuously. Disturbed by how neutral and irenic Meng Yao's tone was at the prospect of murdering another man – something Mingjue would have avoided if given the choice – it took a great deal of effort to control the volume of his voice.
"You're right. I don't think those things are worth killing someone over when there are other ways to bring a man to justice. Did you provoke him?" He spat the words now, causing Meng Yao to flinch beside him.
He shook his head vehemently. "No! I-I only…"
"Only what? Tell me the truth."
"H-he… he insulted my mother."
Meng Yao heaved a shaky breath. He was trying not to burst into tears again; Mingjue saw it in how the other trembled at the thought of Mingjue finding out about his plan. Mingjue sighed – loud and exasperated. It wasn't his intention to scare Meng Yao. He was merely hurt and confused why the other never told him what was going on, that he got so far as to have his life threatened by the captain of the guard, to the point of wanting to kill him. If Meng Yao had consulted Mingjue saying the captain of the guard was bullying him, he wouldn't have hesitated to demote and replace him, to imprison the man if he must. What else could Meng Yao be hiding from him, if he hid the fact that his own military commander was beating him for years?
Mingjue's aura burst like the deadly licks of fire bulging past the outer limits of oven stones. The longer he stood there, the more his betrayal and hurt rang true, igniting his head and chest aflame. Though Meng Yao cowered beneath him, he said roughly, "Meng Yao, you should get some rest."
The other blinked at him in confused abandonment as Mingjue stepped away.
"C-Clan Leader –"
"Get some rest, and I'll find you later."
Mingjue plodded back down the stairs and didn't look back.
Not many nights ago, Meng Yao's steps had been deliberate and precise as he entered Mingjue's room, careful not to awaken anyone in the halls. He'd already been dressed in a thin white nightgown, and Mingjue hadn't been sure whether Meng Yao's boldness was wise, traversing the palace that way. He couldn't bring himself to reprimand the young advisor as he sashayed over to Mingjue's desk, though, gentle contentment on his face. At the very least, he didn't have to hide his joy at seeing him within the confines of his room.
Meng Yao had sat down beside Mingjue, his head on his shoulder, their thighs touching, a sleepy look about him. Mingjue warmed from the casual affection.
Observing the scrolls piled before them, Meng Yao had remarked, "Clan Leader Nie, I would have thought you finished your work long before now."
Mingjue glanced at him with a mild grin. "Apologies, Vice General Meng Yao. I was teaching the new recruits today, so it's taking longer than expected."
Meng Yao tsked in exaggerated disapproval. Unfazed, Mingjue brought a hand to Meng Yao's cheek. He bent his head. Their lips connected in a slow, tender kiss. Meng Yao reached up to take hold of Mingjue's neck, craning his own, sighing happily when they finally pulled away. A smile dimpled Meng Yao's luscious cheeks, scrunching his curvaceous eyes, and Mingjue let go of the brush he held aloft. Lips dragged across cheekbones and hands rummaged through dark hair and folds of clothing, their fingers hungry to slither underneath. When Meng Yao raised himself to his knees, their lips broke apart with a sloppy snap. His hands dove inside the back of Mingjue's hanfu.
The hard lines of Mingjue's face stiffened and relaxed. Meng Yao massaged his shoulders. He breathed deeply at the warm assurance of the other's small, deft hands smoothing rough spots on his scarred skin. The swathing steam of a hot spring fell over his body, chilled by light, powdery mountain snow.
Mingjue had only been a few times in his youth, but a blanket-light heaviness settled over him, transported there again. Chest and back exposed, Meng Yao kneaded out ancient knots of tension as he laid facedown on his bed. Every so often, Meng Yao's loose hair tickled Mingjue's back, and Mingjue's stomach somersaulted at the unexpected sensation. After it happened a few times, he suspected Meng Yao was doing it on purpose.
And then, as if lurching him from the surface of a languid, crystalline pool, a muffled knock sounded at the door. Mingjue was addled by drowsiness and grumpiness as he stirred. Meng Yao looked over at the door, anxiously still. Retrieving his nightwear from the ground with a broad swoop of his arm, Mingjue barely bothered to close the front before he opened the door.
"What is it?"
Huaisang's bewildered voice came through.
"Ah, Big Bro, do you know where Meng Yao is? I can't seem to find him anywhere."
"I don't know where he is."
Lackadaisical as always, after a moment, Huaisang made to peer over Mingjue's shoulder and into the room. Mingjue shifted to make sure his frame filled his entire view.
"Why are you looking for him?" Mingjue asked to distract his brother. Meng Yao moved farther out of sight on the bed behind him, though it was already in an alcove of its own.
Huaisang strained to see around his brother. "I wanted to ask him about – ah, does it matter? Where else would he be if not in your –?"
"I said I don't know where he is. Go to sleep."
Before Huaisang said anything else, Mingjue shut the door in his face and locked it. He rejoined Meng Yao on the bed.
"Aahh, come on, Big Bro. I know you know where he is. Why can't you tell me? Big Bro? Big Bro?!" It wasn't until five minutes of this had passed that Huaisang accepted his attempts were futile and he shuffled back to his room in defeat. When the adjacent door closed, Mingjue exhaled in respite, but Meng Yao watched him wistfully. He sat with his legs folded beside himself.
"You can't hide it from him forever, you know, Clan Leader Nie."
Mingjue breathed out loudly through his nose.
"I'm sure young Huaisang already knows."
There was more Meng Yao wanted to say on the matter. When he didn't, Mingjue said, "Yes, you're right. He's smart. He'll find out sooner or later."
This was as far as the conversation would go. Mingjue was hesitant to tell his brother the truth of their relationship because the young Nie's mouth was looser than his wily bangs, and they both knew it – but now wasn't the time to discuss politics or rumors.
Mingjue took hold of Meng Yao's wrist and pulled him gently downward. The other's arms fell around Mingjue, and soon they were locked in a tight embrace. Tongues pressed into each other, hands roamed each other's bodies – and Mingjue quickly became ravenous from the knots forming in his chest anew.
He caressed Yao's hips as the other gasped beneath him, on hands and knees. At every breath, every plunge, admiration cascaded through his bones. His fingers tangled in Yao's hair, pulled his head back, making him gasp and groan. Yao's body arched farther onto him, and Mingjue shuddered from the sweet sounds emitting from his trembling lips. He wanted to devour him whole. He bent down so his lips were at Meng Yao's neck, taking creamy skin between his teeth, making Yao cry out brokenly, unconscious of the volume of his voice. His insides clenched around Mingjue and Mingjue groaned, hooking an elbow around Meng Yao's neck to hold him in place.
Sweat dripped between his chest and Yao's tenderized backside and Mingjue's heart bloomed, seeing how undone Meng Yao was beneath him, out of breath and pressed against the bed, his face pink. Mingjue adored every expression of disbelieving gratification that crossed Yao's face as he thrust into him, kissed him on the cheek, tongued his mouth, swallowed his cries, never wanting to let him go.
And here, Mingjue's mind stopped.
His head and body tingled from the memory. Thankfully, Huaisang was gone when he reached the bottom of the stairs. At the stables now, Mingjue shook himself. He offered his fingers to Siming, his deep brown mare with white stockings. She sniffed him with her muzzle, and he stroked Siming's shimmering coat as he tried to slow the storming of his mind – that prickle of a whisper at the back of his skull that never truly went away.
Siming was the only one who had been with him that night. The night his father was killed. Everyone else in Mingjue's life, it seemed, was skeptical of him or short-lived. Members who joined Nie Clan's retinue because they had nowhere else to go. The elders who wanted him to be the image of his father. Men and women who shared a bed with him because they were curious what Clan Leader Nie was like during sex. Only Huaisang remained, and he was too young and unprincipled to understand…
Now, it turned out even Meng Yao had his own agenda; and if what he said was true, and the captain of the guard had threatened his second-in-command for so many years, even freed Xue Yang, then he must have cared little about Nie Mingjue's personage at all.
Echoes of pain welled up from deep within – a dark wailing pit of voices that called out in the stable gloom, ready to consume what little sense of himself Mingjue had jealously protected. He'd been so thankful to have Meng Yao by his side these past few years that he'd nearly forgotten what life was like without him, and his head pounded from the blood coursing through his body like a river in rain. Though Mingjue had trained for many years to control the demonic forces inside him, he couldn't stop Baxia from getting the better of him at times –
He quashed the voices bubbling within him best he could, but being betrayed by Meng Yao had had more than the small effect on him –
Mingjue couldn't stop Meng Yao from following his own path. He knew it all along, ever since he appointed Meng Yao as vice general, hearing his true heritage, knowing how others ridiculed him for it. But to have been blindsided by him so thoroughly… Mingjue cursed under his breath.
He'd figure out what to do with Meng Yao soon enough. But now… now…
Mingjue ordered a stable boy to prepare Siming. The boy blaunched at the Clan Leader's booming, vicious aura. His breath was hot, like a demon filled with vengeful energy, fiery and out of control. The boy probably thought Mingjue meant to ride after the Wen invaders for murdering so many of his men – but no.
For now, he had to clear his mind and focus on what he needed to do to protect his people. Then he would figure out what to do with Meng Yao, his lover and closest confidante.
. . .
When Nie Mingjue left him standing before the throne room, Yao clenched his fists in frustration and hurt. Of course Clan Leader Nie wouldn't understand. He was a high born noble, after all, trained in cultivation techniques, comfortable fussing over the ethics of self-defense as someone who'd never had his mind and body ruined so thoroughly by other men. As soon as he was gone, the soldiers on the outskirts of the courtyard became bolder with their stares and their faces turned toward Yao in the broad daylight. Yao immediately corrected his expression and turned away. He walked into the interior of the palace, away from the light, trichromatic and blinding to him now – gleaming only brown, white, and grey. His chest was heavy, as if his heart pumped lead through his veins instead of blood.
The Clan Leader's harsh words and menacing demeanor, contrasted with his earlier heartfelt proclamation of "I love you very much," muddled in Yao's mind. Which was the truth?
If it had been Lan Xichen who found him cowering there below the pig-faced captain of the guard on the brink of death and insanity, would he have berated Yao like a child and then retracted his affection? Would he have spat morality at Yao for wanting to rid himself of the man who made his life a misery and intimidated him, reminding him of so many from his past?
Yao wanted to curse Clan Leader Nie for his actions, but, he didn't. If not for all he'd already provided Yao, where would he be right now?
A bookkeeper in Yunping?
A member of Nie Clan whose small body and feminine charm made him barely defensible to other soldiers?
…If Yao really was just Clan Leader Nie's concubine, he certainly hadn't been treated poorly. He'd been provided a life of luxury, Clan Leader Nie's affection – though scant that affection may be – the Clan Leader's ear in court, the power and ability to preside over the Nie household, the best food and clothing he could ever hope for, even his own permanent quarters – though he wondered how long Clan Leader Nie's blessings could last. The thrilling affair they'd had these past few years was not conventional nor proper, given Yao's position as second-in-command in Qinghe. Yao wasn't supposed to be appointed as Clan Leader Nie's lover, initially, but as his vice general. Originally, he was just one of many who joined Nie Clan in search of a home and a purpose, someone who had nowhere else to go, and now he belonged here more than anywhere else. But given the nature of Nie Clan's recruitment, degenerates within their ranks were as common as snakes in grass.
A few nights ago, when Clan Leader Nie had sunk his teeth into his skin, Yao had jerked from the passion, possession, and fright that swept through him. He was twisted so far back already, unsure if he could keep going, but his body moved on its own. He needed more – Clan Leader Nie's chest against his skin, unable to do anything but lose himself in the hot pleasure thrusting into him, his fingers curling in bedsheets as animalistic whimpers escaped him. When Nie Mingjue hooked an elbow around his neck, the world grew fuzzier, lacking oxygen – but Yao hardly cared. At the mercy of the Clan Leader's impressive length, the sensations flooding his body were enough to make Yao forget the whispers that trailed behind him in the palace halls, the eyes that beat down on him from pillars and walls like knots of slithering snakes. The porosity of the bedroom was embedded in the furniture and decor, in the patterns seeping over gaps and openings, the faces of demons and other perverted beasts that glinted at him from above. There were guards and servants who watched him, not always out of reproachful adjudication, but out of stark curiosity, unable to wrap their heads around how someone so small and young had risen in rank so quickly – was he merely being manipulated by the weight of social expectation, a doll for Clan Leader Nie to dress up to fulfill some new desired image for the clan? Or perhaps it was something far more sinister, something someone as young as Meng Yao couldn't possibly understand…?
The coil inside Meng Yao came undone as Mingjue kissed him, tongued inside him, and Yao smiled bitterly, chuckling inwardly at the memory of their pitying faces. As if he didn't understand more than these men and women, who spoke behind his back like they knew his life, would ever have to endure in all their years on this earth. Yao moaned at the intrusive presence of Mingjue's tongue between his lips. He trembled at the possessive heat enveloping his entire body, the pleasurable tenancy within it.
Those people hadn't grown up in a place that reeked of sweat and pheromones, a place where, if you looked at someone the wrong way, you could become the next target of pent-up frustrations. Clan Leader Nie held Yao down by his wrists, pushing into him harder than before, and Yao lurched at the weight thrusting into his hips and lower back, achingly powerful.
The wrinkled eyes that sometimes watched him in the throne room or Qinghe's palace halls – Yao verged on a sob. They made his stomach churn with anxiety and a sense of imperious irritation, sizing him up with only the barest of reservations, filled with apathetic disdain – his skin stung from the saltiness of oncoming tears, and though he could hardly hear over his hysteria, Mingjue lost his grip on himself too – the elders would address Clan Leader Nie about matters while Meng Yao stood placidly against a wall a short distance away, hands folded, head bowed, avoiding eye contact except to steal a quick glance, as anything more would be disrespectful – Mingjue grabbed his hair again and his thrusts slowed, only to become more forceful, pushing Yao over the edge – he cried loudly now – he always found them looking down on him – he trembled as Mingjue finished inside him, filling him up – hidden under sleeves, under bedsheets – his fingers knotted, knowing the hindrance they supposed him to be.
Yao collapsed beneath Clan Leader Nie in a mess of cum and tears, wiping away the pin-needles of water. The Clan Leader let go of him and rolled onto his back in fatigue while Yao reeled from the intense sensations wracking his body. The shapes on the walls of the room wavered, dark and indistinguishable. After a moment, Nie Mingjue's hand lightly touched his back, both still panting. Yao rolled over to wrap his arms around his chest. A muscular arm draped around his shoulders.
As they laid there, heartbeats slowing, Yao's thoughts returned to that vicious cycle, like buzzards circling around forgotten meat. Within the palace walls, the rumors were now normal-level conversations to be overheard as he turned the corner. Their supposing remarks were superficial – little cuts he'd endured his whole life, insignificant on the case level – but when added up, his entire body bled out in the open under the scrutiny of them all.
He shut the door on such matters whenever he met Clan Leader Nie in his room, but…
The lasting effects of the Wen invasion showed the Clan Leader's hesitance more than that bloody afternoon.
Qinghe's losses were tallied over the coming weeks, and young Huaisang was sent away to indoctrination camp. The halls of the palace became very quiet indeed with everyone in fear of a full-on war. The Clan Leader hardly assigned to Yao any duties during this time, and anything he wanted was relayed by other personnel. Servants and guards were awkward with Yao as they told him what the Clan Leader asked, knowing Yao's position was affected by something ulterior, and Yao was humiliated, unable to discern just how much of the rumors they'd heard or believed.
Clan Leader Nie didn't call Yao to his room at all during this time, and Yao found himself wandering the halls aimlessly, no longer with the power or purpose to direct Nie's other subjects as he had. Since the Clan Leader treated him like any other advisor as much as he could in public – even in front of Huaisang – how much power did Yao have, really, without Nie Mingjue's presence? When he ran himself ragged to deter the motives of the captain of the guard, to protect the Clan Leader's reputation, had it really all been for naught?
Yao thrashed in his bed, missing Clan Leader Nie's touch. At least he never had to worry about being grabbed by anyone as long as Nie Mingjue was near, but Yao started to question whether it had been worth it all along, if the Clan Leader's reserved affections these past years meant Yao was just caught in the unfortunate circumstances of being both a concubine and an advisor, and Nie Mingjue actually no longer wanted him around, but didn't know how to say it. Perhaps now was the time to call it off before everything became worse for them – and Yao's mind turned to the months he'd spent in Yunmeng between his mother's death and arriving in Qinghe, in the presence of a cultivator so graceful and kind that he often wondered whether his memories were real.
Lan Xichen wouldn't leave him alone like this for this long, would he? Yao understood the desires of the Gusu heir even less than Clan Leader Nie now, given the time and space between them.
His fingers trailed up the inside of his nightgown, across his sensitive skin.
Years ago, when he seduced Nie Mingjue, he'd been unsure whether anything would come of it. Perhaps Clan Leader Nie was only attracted to him for a few rounds of curiosity, and he'd grow bored of Yao quickly. And honestly, Yao wasn't sure whether he'd be interested for more than that either; and afterward, what would become of his vice general position? Yao's pursuit of him was a spur-of-the-moment decision, an infatuation born from amusement and loneliness. He never expected they would get this far. Now, they'd become such a big part of each other's lives that it was impossible to hide the truth forever.
Motionless in bed, Yao's nightgown lay open. The cold air brushed against his heaving chest, and Yao stared at the ceiling. The light was out, and one hand was still on his stomach, stroking absently.
A few nights ago, once steady enough, Yao got up from the bed and replaced his thin white nightgown around his shoulders. Clan Leader Nie continued laying on the bed, a hand to his forehead. Yao sat beside him, his fingers swirling in sweaty chest hair. When his hand moved to stroke Nie Mingjue's head, the older man sighed. Yao scooted closer, laying his head on his stomach. In the low candlelight, Nie Mingjue stroked Meng Yao's hair, his abdomen rising and falling slowly beneath Yao's ear. His large fingers carefully ran through knots in Yao's hair as Yao gazed into his face.
It flickered with emotion.
What emotion, Yao couldn't name it – the flashes were so slight he was unsure if it was the candlelight playing tricks on him. Then, surprisingly, Nie Mingjue cleared his throat. He broke the silence first.
"Huaisang… hasn't been the same, since our father was killed."
Yao lifted himself from Nie Mingjue's stomach to better look at his face. Creases formed around the Clan Leader's closed eyes. He opened them slightly, but he couldn't see Yao – his gaze was lost to the darkness, to a place Yao couldn't grasp except in the specters of the dead flickering within.
"After his blade destroyed him, I… I couldn't be there for him."
Nie Mingjue's lips trembled as he spoke. After a moment, his hand flew to his face. Yao blinked in surprise, feeling the larger man quiver beneath him. It took him another moment to realize Clan Leader Nie was crying.
He sat up beside Yao, silent tears trickling down his face beneath his hand, fingers pressed into eyelids. Shocked, for a moment, Yao only watched him. He ached immensely from the ferocity of their passion only moments before, but when the man before him intook a sharp, shaky breath, Yao moved without thinking. At Nie Mingjue's back, Yao dropped his arms over the man's wide shoulders. At first, Nie Mingjue didn't react. He fell apart when Yao pulled him close to his chest.
The man's sobs came out as abrupt breaths, tears trickling down his face and onto Yao's light, fluttery sleeves. Pressing Mingjue close to him, nose in his hair, Mingjue gripped his slender arms with large hands.
Yao couldn't understand the man's pain, but he knew this was the first time Nie Mingjue had shown this emotion to anyone. He'd never seen him cry before, and wondered how many people had. He'd believed Nie Mingjue was just another enigmatic clan leader, a man known for his brutal way in battle and his harsh, short words. His defense of Yao against the Nie cultivators in the cave surprised him, but Yao knew not what to make of Clan Leader Nie's sympathy nor his generosity. The Clan Leader's façade of power and strength as the Red Blade Master in the north, the protector of forthright justice in the land… was flawed; yet, even as he grieved with the man in the warmth of his own bed, Yao couldn't comprehend Nie Mingjue's intention in sharing this emotion with him. No matter how much Clan Leader Nie trusted him, Yao was afraid of becoming too comfortable with this scene.
He wanted to eliminate the men who saw him as less than worthy of his position. Something Nie Mingjue, a cultivator of noble birth, could never understand. Yao feared he would never be able to escape Clan Leader Nie's wrath, not as long as he lived, should he find out about his murderous intentions. The demon that encased Clan Leader Nie's soul would follow him everywhere, even if Heaven deemed their relationship to be false and a bad omen. So maybe, just maybe, if he could eliminate the main perpetrator of his fears, a certain captain of the guard, then Yao would feel whole enough to trust the man before him. Then the snakes who whispered insults and lies would be silenced forevermore.
But it wasn't a certainty.
Eventually, coming to in his bed, Yao understood why the Clan Leader needed distance from him. If he was willing to hide a murder plot for so long, then what else could he be hiding? But that didn't stop Yao's own insecurities from brimming to the surface. He just wanted to be told it was okay, that he'd made a mistake, but he could still be loved. That he was safe in Qinghe beneath Clan Leader Nie's strong arms, like always. To be given the love and affection he desperately needed.
Nie Mingjue's sorrow and his anger, the fact that he'd saved him twice now – Yao seethed, knowing the life debt he owed. Every inch of his being told him to be ashamed for wanting more, but he wouldn't hide it anymore. The fact they were together. If he was to be concubine and advisor, then that's what he would be – lest he leave Nie Mingjue in the dust. Fuck everyone who thought he had no idea what he deserved.
. . .
He'd left Meng Yao alone for too long. Embroiled in administration duties, trying to calm the rage inside him for weeks at the destruction wrought by Wen, his mood had been even less stable. More than once, he wished to go to Meng Yao for advice. The other was, of course, the best to hold down the fort while Mingjue was away, being the most knowledgeable about Nie Clan's dealings and the best political strategist he had ever known – but when it came to the weight of leadership, Meng Yao could only speak in hypotheticals. For this reason, Mingjue also wished to call upon Lan Xichen. With less anxiety over whether he was providing amply for his people, it would be easier to resolve things with Meng Yao, but he soon waved the thoughts away. Lan Xichen was far away and had his own clan to worry about. For now, he would do things alone.
By the time Mingjue was stable enough to speak with Meng Yao, two and a half weeks had passed.
Meng Yao slammed the door when he entered the throne room, called in by another servant, his steps rapid and forceful against the floor. Mingjue sat at the head table as usual, one elbow across its glimmering metal surface. His head leaned in one palm as he wracked his mind for what to say. The other stood directly before him, his lips fixed in a tight line, his hands at his sides rather than folded in front of him. It was unbefitting of a royal advisor.
Running his hand over his hairy mouth, Mingjue spoke. "Meng Yao, I didn't mean to make you wait this long. I had other things I was dealing wi –"
"Clan Leader Nie, I'm tired of playing this game." Meng Yao's fists were clenched, and Mingjue furrowed his brow.
"What game?"
"'What game'?!" Meng Yao shook his head in disbelief. An ironic chuckle escaped his lips. "I'm sure you're well-aware of the things people are saying about me in the halls. Everyone knows why you've been avoiding me these past few weeks. It's no big secret anymore."
"You don't know that for sure."
"How can you say that?! I would have thought you understood how others see me after hearing how your disciples spoke about me when we first met. If you weren't there, they would've stopped at nothing. Nothing! Not them or the captain of the guard or any of the servants who whisper behind my back, supposing all sorts of things! Anything I do or say hardly matters because I'm just a joke to them, and maybe I am to you too – a prettied-up doll who only became vice general because you took a liking to me! Maybe they're right! Maybe they're all right!"
Mingjue burst from his seat. "What do you want me to do?! I can't just parade our relationship in public, not after you've been an advisor for so many years! Do you know how that would make me look?!"
"Well maybe we should just call it off, then!"
Their voices echoed in the throne room, and Mingjue paled, realizing how loud they were shouting. He gritted his teeth, moved around the table to point at Meng Yao in ire, his voice a growl. "If that's how you truly feel."
Meng Yao nodded inimically. His tongue lashed with a knowing scorn. "Oh yes, it is! If I can't know when you're going to kick me to the road once you're done with me, then I'd rather leave right now!"
"Really, you think I'd kick you out after all we've been through?!"
Meng Yao hesitated this time. He heard not just Mingjue's anger, but his hurt and confusion too.
"If I wanted to tell you to get out, I would have done it long before now."
Appalled and taken aback, the other's voice pitched. "So – what?! What do you want with me, then?!"
Meng Yao was once again on the verge of tears, so Mingjue descended the dais and lightly gripped his arms. Meng Yao's torso rose and fell under his steady grip.
"I want your happiness. But I don't know how to ensure that as well as our safety."
Meng Yao burst into tears again, burying his face in the larger man's chest. So thankful to have him near, Mingjue hugged him, rubbed his head, neck, and back slowly.
After a moment, Meng Yao reached his face up, so Mingjue leaned down and kissed him. The kiss grew long and passionate, and Yao's saliva mingled with his tears. When Mingjue pulled away, he beheld his lover's flushed and wanting face.
Mingjue stepped back. "Come to my room later. I'll get the servants to bring us food."
Stunned, Yao ventured, "Clan Leader, are you sure?"
"Yes. I…" Mingjue's throat tightened, not believing what he was about to say. "I missed you."
Meng Yao watched him, incredulous. Then a small smile crept over his lips. He bowed his head, still smiling, and Mingjue touched his hair.
. . .
Yao was caught off-guard by Clan Leader Nie's proposal. He'd never invited Yao to his room for a meal before – not unless they were also going to discuss clan-related matters before their nightly affairs – and Yao was unsure what to wear. Should he be more formal? More casual? Was he making this out to be a bigger deal than it was? After settling for a hanfu that was somewhere in between – one with thin fabric, colored plain light lavender, with a layer of white underneath – Yao knocked on the door.
As promised, there was a meal spread out before them at the square table in the center of Nie Mingjue's chambers, and it was grand. Yao sat beside Nie Mingjue and, flicking his sleeves back, he fidgeted like a child, almost too afraid to look at him. They'd never sat beside each other like equals before – before, there had always been a degree of separation, both of them on opposite sides.
Yao chewed methodically, eyeing the clan leader as he brought food to his mouth. It was best not to break the silence first, he decided. It wasn't until they were almost done, Yao sipping his tea, that the Clan Leader cleared his throat.
"I'm sure you understand why I've kept our relationship a secret."
"Yes. If you were to reveal it, all of Nie Clan, and all the clans we deal with, would believe you were the kind of leader who appoints consorts to positions of power. You'd lose your reputation as the harbinger of frank justice."
"Yes, but that isn't the only reason."
"Then it's also because those in Nie Clan would believe you were spineless. You haven't taken a wife or concubine yet, so…"
"And the only way to avoid such accusations would be to remove you as my advisor. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Clan Leader Nie."
"You sound uneasy."
"…But then why did you appoint me as your vice general years ago, if not also because you found me attractive?"
Clan Leader Nie tilted his head toward the empty dishes on the table. His fingers twitched on his knees.
"You don't think I would believe it's just because of…"
"What I overheard?" Nie Mingjue filled in for him.
Yao nodded.
The man was silent in his thoughtfulness, which further perplexed Yao. Anxious in waiting for his answer, Yao muttered, "You seem to think what happened in the cave was uncommon."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm saying, your disbelief about this thing that happened with the captain of the guard is rather funny to me. He's just one in a long list of soldiers and other highborns who would gladly tear me apart for the sake of it."
"That doesn't mean you're justified in murder."
Oh, this again. Tendrils of wrath emanated from Clan Leader Nie's body, but Yao didn't care.
"I'm sorry not everyone can justify the murders they carry out with dogmatic morality honed by Nie clan leaders for centuries."
A shadow fell over Nie Mingjue's face then. He lifted a hand, reaching through the air with malintent. It stopped midway, hovering to a point. "Be careful, Meng Yao."
Yao leaned toward Nie Mingjue, daring him to close the distance. His nostrils flared. "Be careful of speaking the truth?"
Clan Leader Nie's large hands closed around Yao's upper arms and he shook him, lifting him slightly from his seat. He glared at Yao for saying such a thing. Startled and petrified, Yao soon calmed his nerves enough to smile.
"What will you do, Clan Leader Nie? You can't control me. Even as your subject, it was me who seduced you, or don't you remember?" Yao's hand slid up and down Nie Mingjue's abdomen. His grin widened at his arousal. Nie Mingjue caught Yao's fingers before they closed around his cock and held him up by the arm and wrist. His eyes were full of manic rage, breath heavy, his tongue circling behind his teeth, ready to break free of his mouth.
"As if you didn't want me to –"
Clan Leader Nie's lips were hot and messy on Yao's mouth, cutting him off, and Yao started laughing at his fervency until a thumb pressed against his throat. Exhaling sharply, Yao trembled as the Clan Leader's lips drifted to his cheeks and then his neck. Passion and possession paralyzed his body as the older man palmed his ass. He undid the tie around Yao's waist and spun him around, his hands trailing across Yao's dampening skin, holding Yao against his chest, completely enveloping him, his member hard and intrusive against Yao's back, which curved naturally into Mingjue, drunk with his scent and the familiar thickness in the air. His body screamed in agony at being so close to him and yet not close enough. He moaned in waiting, in wanting.
"Say it," the man growled in Yao's ear as he trembled against him, breathless, wordless, enthralled.
"Please," he whined, no longer in control of his own body or his voice.
"What's that?"
"Please, I want you inside me, Clan Leader Nie. Please fuck me."
Nie Mingjue finally released him and Yao collapsed, hot and shaky onto the floor. Peeling away the layers of lavender and white around him, he then hoisted Yao to a stand, pushed him onto the bed, fondled Yao's erection from behind, pulled his hair. Yao moaned when Nie Mingjue suddenly let go, in a daze from not having the man's overwhelming presence eating at his skin anymore. He squirmed on the bed. He hadn't the wherewithal to look where Mingjue had gone when large hands grabbed his wrists and pushed him down. Rope twined around them. Yao's heart beat loudly in his ears as he beheld Nie Mingjue's naked chest above him, his engorged penis, the passion in his eyes ready to swallow him whole. Yao trembled in anticipation.
Once the bonds were secured around his wrists, Mingjue yanked them over his head. The sudden motion caused his heart to sputter with ecstatic alarm, stoking the fire in his belly, aware that Nie Mingjue was into this as much as he was – faintly aware that if he asked Mingjue to stop he would in a heartbeat – but that would destroy the height of their anger and sorrow, so intoxicating after two and a half weeks of nothing. He'd make Nie Mingjue pay for the lows he caused over the last few weeks, for the discontent that had turned to bitter hatred. He began to devise how to get him back for this.
When Nie Mingjue entered him, his cock glutted Yao to the brim, and Yao's head lolled back, his face hot from the pressure inside him. He knew what the man above him was thinking: that if he could possess Yao this wholly, make him feel this good, then how could Yao possibly say he couldn't control him? The humiliation turned to passionate rage surging through Yao's veins.
And his body gave Nie Mingjue every reaction he desired, like the simpering fool he was.
. . .
By the time Huaisang returned, with a grumbling resentment Yao hid under many layers the bite marks and bruises on his skin. He pulled the neckline of his hanfu as far as it would go in hopes of concealing the marks, but he wasn't sure how effective it was. Whenever he glimpsed the marks himself, he couldn't help but blush, remembering how he got them.
Without the dreaded fear of the captain to ruin his plans, Yao slowly returned to some of his old duties, but he was reluctant in his administration tasks, pressured to not appear more than he was. He and Clan Leader Nie hadn't resolved things – how Yao could be both advisor and lover. The proper thing to do would have been to resign Meng Yao as vice general and declare him a concubine, or send him away entirely – but even if they disagreed on issues of morality, neither wanted that. As a concubine, Yao would become nothing more than a ghost haunting the halls. He'd be able to advise the Clan Leader in private, but never in public. Nie Mingjue would have to find someone to take Yao's place, as he would lose his political power, forcing the man to tend to matters alone, and Nie Mingjue was doubtful anyone could replace Yao's skills in hospitality and political analysis. Combating the Nie elders would become even harder. Still, the rumors about them had become so widespread that it was almost useless to deny it now. Clan Leader Nie's lack of an official statement only meant there were few who could bring it under inquiry, as there was no concrete law prohibiting a concubine from also being an advisor. It was just something that was considered highly improper, an unspoken rule, disrespectful to the power granted by one's status.
All of this percolated in Yao's mind as Huaisang raved about the barbarity of Wen Chao and his tittering "milk maid" – a phrasing that made Yao tilt his head in confusion, and given Huaisang's passion about the matter, he was too afraid to ask. Apparently, there had been an uprising among the other clan members who were forced to go to the Wen indoctrination camp, but Huaisang hadn't gotten involved with them – out of resourcefulness and fear – so he got out early and unscathed. Yao found it difficult to listen.
"Anyway, how have things been between you and Big Bro lately?"
The change in topic was so sudden Yao wasn't sure he'd heard right, given the loudness of his own thoughts.
"Eh, what?"
"Come on, I know something happened between you and Brother after we were attacked by Wen Clan. Before I left, Brother couldn't sit still no matter what. He was always rushing back and forth between appointments." Huaisang lounged on a curved bench in a pergola over the koi waters, his arms spread out on either side of him, fanning himself lazily. It was the young Nie's favorite place to relax. Yao stood beside him, watching orange and white shapes move in the water below. A servant passed them on the connected walkway, so Huaisang waited before continuing. "I think Baxia was bothering him before I left."
"Baxia…" Oh, the blade that sometimes whispered to him in the throne room halls…
"He has trouble controlling it sometimes, you know. I never got my own saber, thank the gods." Huaisang kissed his fingers and raised them to the heavens. "But that's only because I'm not Nie Clan's firstborn. Our dad, you know, he was a really rowdy guy. I only ever saw him guzzling booze, surrounded by women, not caring to keep up with the other clan leaders much, always boasting about some beast he'd killed in the past week. He always seemed so in-tune with what was expected of him that I never expected his saber to kill him so young… but I guess it shows personality doesn't have much to do with it, huh?"
Yao had read up on the history of Nie Clan before arriving years ago, and after becoming vice general, he was allowed access to the forbidden records concerning demonic cultivation. But as he listened to Huaisang, fish swimming from one shadowed walkway to the next, a cavity formed in his chest.
"Meng Yao? Are you listening?"
Yao spun to look at him. "What? Oh, yes, sorry. I was just remembering something."
Huaisang scrutinized him, closing his fan. "You know, you're different from before I left. I think I'm right. Something definitely happened between you and Brother."
Yao's thin smile waned. He couldn't hide it anymore, not when Huaisang had offered him an insight he never asked for. Yao tipped his head in earnest. "The Clan Leader and I have been talking over things lately, yes."
Huaisang touched his lips to the end of his fan. "Like what things?"
Yao smiled genuinely at his naïveté. It seemed, when it came to love and sex, young Huaisang was still quite ignorant. "We've been talking about my position, and what we should do going forward."
Huaisang's mouth was agape in loss. "What do you mean? You're not leaving, are you?"
Since the young Nie lurched forward in worry, Yao sat beside him. "No. I'm not."
"Then… are you worried other people will find out you're… you two are… close?"
"I'm sure they already have."
"Oh…" Huaisang thought for another moment. "Well, I'm sure everyone will be too distracted during the campaign against Wen Clan to notice. With so many other clan leaders coming to Qinghe, the servants and such should all have something else to worry about. For once." Huaisang rolled his eyes, remembering those buttinskies as he fanned himself. Yao snorted from the irony. "But anyway, how have you been holding up with everything?"
"What do you mean?"
"I heard the captain of the guard…" Huaisang trailed off, not knowing what to say.
"Oh." Instinctually, Yao straightened his spine. He was stunned by the inquiring shame in the younger Nie's face. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it, young master." Yao smiled at him, but Huaisang was unconvinced.
"Brother and I, we had no idea he was bothering you… Why didn't you say anything?"
"I had it under control."
Huaisang half-rolled his eyes. "Sure you did. At least you're okay." He leaned forward to nick Yao on the shoulder, lightly scolding in its playfulness, which surprised Yao again.
Wait, other clan leaders…
Huaisang watched Yao curiously as he stared through the walkway floor.
Xichen.
. . .
Standing with his hands folded in front of him, Mingjue's head was bowed as he listened to the advice being given to him.
"This campaign must be successful in order to rid the land of the scourge of Wen. They've been allowed to run rampant for too long. All of them must be brought to justice!" The elder who spoke slammed his fist on the table. In an area closed off from the main entrance of the palace, nine elders sat in chairs at high tables on either side of Mingjue. The courtyard of stone and metal was a private pavilion, embedded further into the side of the mountain, where they were less likely to be disturbed by commoners or one of the palace's many guests, and they were safer from invasion. None of them had actually seen the Wen invaders during the battle, Mingjue knew. A chilly wind blew through the private courtyard, rousing Mingjue's robes.
With thin, pursed lips and sharp eyes, the next one to speak was a woman, the only woman out of the nine elders. Smaller than the men, she and all others were trained in weaponry and swordsmanship, but none were like Nie Mingjue or his father, tied to a blade that would end their days. As the most vocal of them all, the woman was unrelenting in her tone. "How are you going to ensure our defense in Qinghe while you fight in Qishan? Surely, you're not going to count on them to be honorable while you're away."
Mingjue bowed his head as he addressed her, unable to meet her austere gaze. "I've assembled a group of clan leaders to discuss our strategy in the coming weeks. We'll address Qinghe's and all other clans' defenses in our meeting."
"Might I make a suggestion?"
She phrased it as a question, but Mingjue knew she would go ahead speaking whether he permitted her to or not. He lifted his head in the stark daylight.
"I say you appoint someone to keep watch over us here. With the former captain of the guard gone, there's no one suitable enough to lead our soldiers except you."
The men around her nodded, voicing their assent. She was trying to goad Mingjue into saying Meng Yao would keep watch of everything while he was away. An idea none of them would be crazy about, given Meng Yao's ineptitude with a blade, and more than that, it would reveal Mingjue's partiality for Meng Yao in all clan-related affairs. Mingjue may not have a way with words, but he was savvy enough to understand at least this level of political game. She had been waiting for him to slip up for a while.
"Right. Before I leave, I'll find someone to take the captain of the guard's place."
Clearly peeved that Mingjue failed to bring up Meng Yao, the woman glared at him. Ten paces away, her hawkish presence made it feel as though she were standing before him, above him, her skeletal fingers resting on his throat. She hissed through snarling teeth, "It's a shame the previous captain of the guard had to be disposed of."
An elderly man tipped his head. "He was a fine soldier."
Others exchanged glances and murmurs; Mingjue shifted between his feet. He'd informed the elders that the man had conspired against him to free Xue Yang, but of course they had to bring it up in person. "He was untrustworthy, and fraternized with a serial killer to weaken all of us."
"Where did you get this information?" an elder asked.
"Did anyone actually see him free Xue Yang," asked the woman, "or was it based on pure suspicion and a secondhand account?"
"Someone saw him."
"Who?"
Mingjue bit his tongue, knowing she'd talked him into this corner, wishing he was bold enough to talk back to the implication in her voice. "My vice general saw it."
They stared at each other on opposite sides of the courtyard. A deathly wind blew.
"No one else?"
"No one else."
A man spoke up. "What makes you think we can trust this Meng Yao, whose background is more than a little cause for concern?"
"He's just one in a long list of soldiers and other highborns who would gladly tear me apart for the sake of it." Mingjue hoped the tightening of his fingers was hidden beneath his sleeves. He may not agree with Meng Yao, but the young advisor at least deserved to be treated with the same level of decency as any other commoner, regardless of whether they were birthed from royalty or a whorehouse, or both.
"I've told you before, he can handle the duties I give him."
"Whether or not he can handle his duties isn't what we're concerned about," the woman said, divisive and cutting. "He's been given too much power, and I'm sure all of us here know why."
The fact that she didn't say it aloud told Mingjue all he needed to know.
Hands folded respectfully, he stood there, waiting for her to call for (another) discussion of his marital and sexual affairs (without the use of that explicit wording, a fact that made Mingjue's stomach churn from the faux politeness of proper court proceedings). She waited, letting Mingjue brew up all the ways he would have to try and defend Meng Yao from being banished from politics and perhaps from Qinghe, all while on the precipice of one of the largest campaigns in Nie Clan's history.
"You may go."
Mingjue bit his tongue as he bowed to her, to all of them. Most of the others tipped their heads, but the elderly woman stared coldly, straight ahead.
As he stepped over the threshold into the main area of the palace again, his shoulders released tension. His breaths increased. The Nie elder woman, she wanted Mingjue to openly admit his relationship with Meng Yao. If he didn't, would she lead an inquiry to expose Mingjue and banish Meng Yao herself? The other elders shared in her sentiment of disappointment and infuriation at Mingjue's hesitance over childbearing. With her as the driving force, they would all follow proper court procedure to find an acceptable way to debase him.
Mingjue tried to breathe slowly, his hand on a wall to steady himself, hearing it again, the pit wailing in endless rage and despair, avaricious in its desire to overtake him. Intrusive thoughts flashed through his mind, accompanied by scathing flashes of hurt.
He could kill her. He could kill all of them; they had no skills, no pacts with demons trapped in adamantine blades. It would be so easy to kill them, watch their blood slowly unspool across the stones in the ground, spilling into crevices, never having to stare at those cold eyes or pursed, wrinkled lips ever again –
Mingjue beat his fist against the wall, cussing at the demon inside him for making him feel delight at the sadistic thoughts. As always, Baxia was illusive in its mocking grin, too slippery to be grasped, unaffected by Mingjue's words and the pitiable feelings of mortals. It backed off, but only a little. They all crumbled in the end, every last blade master of the north. Soon enough, with or without Meng Yao, Nie Mingjue would belong to him. It was only a matter of time.
Mingjue's sweat ran cold at the thought.
. . .
After his final discussion with the elders, Mingjue found himself on the battlefield again, hacking through flesh and bone, bearing witness to demented hordes of men who had become possessed by the power of Wen charlatans and backwards witchcraft. He hoped, at least, that Meng Yao and Huaisang were safe back in Qinghe, that no one was harassing them while he was gone, and no forces would be sent against them while he was not there to protect them.
His mood had become unstable again for many reasons. Not knowing where exactly he and Meng Yao stood with each other, knowing the perpetual delicacy of their relationship, which only increased now that the captain of the guard was gone – knowing the Wen and domestic threats that hung over their heads. Mingjue had to be concerned over the welfare of his people now more than ever. His days with Meng Yao could be quite numbered, and if Meng Yao were to be banished or if he left, what would he do then? How would he fare?
Would Meng Yao go back to Yunmeng? Try again at Jin Clan? Mingjue doubted the other had any fond memories of the place, based on the little he spoke about it – only the small slivers of being a bookkeeper in Yunping. He never spoke about the brothels or his father in Jinlintai, but it was just one of the many things Yao refused to tell him, and Mingjue wouldn't pry. It wasn't his business, even if he wished to know.
Even if he was afraid of what obtaining that information might do to both of them.
When Mingjue returned to Qinghe, his joints heavy from wielding Baxia's demonic weight, he found they were no longer alone. A few clan leaders had arrived, occupying the guest rooms, and Mingjue was pleased to know Meng Yao had taken care of them all. It seemed the other was comfortable in his duties again, and others were less likely to speak out against him now that the captain of the guard was gone.
By the time Mingjue had changed out of his battle-worn armor and washed the dirt of war from his skin, he was beside himself with his elation to see Meng Yao again – to feel the gentle weight of his hands, ever so precise, to clasp his swaying hips, to see his cryptic smile – ready to abandon Baxia's banging torment for as long as he could. Once he was in comfortable clothes, he made his way to Meng Yao's quarters as discreetly as possible, lifted a knuckle to the door, only to hear two voices inside. He recognized both of them.
When he opened the door, the glee on Meng Yao's face melted into shock. Lan Xichen sat at the table in his room, and Meng Yao had never looked that way before: mesmerized by the man before him. Now, his expression was one of unadulterated shame and trepidation, hinting at the awareness of his betrayal. Meng Yao's arms and shoulders were stiff as he searched for a greeting.
Lan Xichen turned toward the door. "Brother Mingjue, you're finally back."
A faint smile ghosted over Mingjue's lips, in spite of himself. "Xichen. It's good to see you."
Yao's face flickered with conflicting responses at Mingjue addressing Lan Xichen first – and with his first name. Since Meng Yao was speechless and with company, Mingjue asked, "Am I allowed in?"
Meng Yao was clearly still debating what to answer when Xichen looked over at him, picking up an inkling of the atmosphere. He jolted out of his stupor to quickly amend, "A-ah, yes, come in, Clan Leader Nie."
Xichen stood to embrace Mingjue, startling Yao again, looking on in confused inquiry. It comforted Mingjue, knowing not all his secrets were out in the open for the vice general to make use of. "So," Mingjue said, raising his eyebrows at Meng Yao, who remained seated beneath him and Xichen.
The corner of Yao's lips twerked up, without mirth. They knew why Mingjue was here.
Once again, I was not expecting to write more than maybe a "short" 6k-word epilogue to my chapter 1, but alas… Here we fucking are. I spent something like two weeks agonizing over this and my wrists and eyes are now dead, but hey, it was a good pain.
Oooh dramaaa… I hope you like it I ain't got much more to say, haha~ Still sad NieYao isn't that popular of a pairing but we can't win 'em all, I guess. Let's see if this is actually the last chapter of this I end up writing…