The day Li Cu met Zhang Qiling, he'd been four beers and an indeterminate number of shots into his graduation celebrations by the time they'd stumbled through the gates of Wushanju.
Bolstered by liquid courage and propped up between his two best friends when it became apparent he could barely stand on his own, Li Cu's first order of business had been to openly air his grievances with the man, once he was done gaping at the absurdly appealing reality of him of course—and demand, in what devolved into broken sobs from the vicinity of the Zhang Patriarch's ridiculously adorable chicken slippered feet—that he take immediate responsibility for his beloved Daoshi and his poor broken heart.
He'd later deny that an overwhelming sense of filial piety had driven the litany of not so idle threats of bodily violence against the older man—and his unmentionable appendages—should he ever again consider leaving his stupidly pretty idiot—because apparently that's what Wu Xiè has blossomed into once again in his presence—unsupervised ever again.
Pangzi had just about fallen off his lawn chair in fits of laughter at Wu Xie's spluttering indignance. Xiao-ge himself quirking a lip as he'd pulled Li Cu's pitifully weeping form from the floor and settled him in the warmth between himself and Wu Xiè, a beer held out in silent offering.
"Congratulations, Li Cu."
"You know me?"
He'd smiled at him then, the expression softening to something Li Cu could hardly find words for as his eyes drifted to Wu Xiè who scoffed but otherwise remains silent.
"Your Baba Zhang keeps a careful eye on all his chicks." Pangzi chuckles, his voice a gentle rumble in the otherwise quiet night air. His own penchant for 'Mother Henning' second only to Wu Xiè himself who'd become almost unbearable in the months leading up to what Li Cu had come to discover—by way of Hei-ye and Xiao Hua—to be the release of the Iron Triangle's third side from behind the fabled Bronze Gate.
He'd been pissed of course they'd neglected to invite him along to help retrieve the legend himself from Changbai Shan, but between his pending graduation, Wu nǎi nai's insistence in spoiling him rotten at every opportunity and Wu Er Bai's penchant for dragging him and his friend's off to parts unknown every other weekend—well, he'd hardly had time to address the issue with the men directly.
His retribution of course, had been swift and brutal and at the least opportune moment for Wu Xiè because ultimately, that's what Li Cu does and it's what the older man deserves for being a bastard.
It's his duty after all as the man's heir-apparent, legitimate or not, and Li Cu is serious about his filial duties just as long as it's to annoy his Daoshi in any and all capacity as the pampered and spoilt child that this family has made him.
"We aren't the ones that need a keeper." Li Cu grouses, tossing a scowl over his shoulder. Zhang Qiling's laugh quiet but genuine as Wu Xiè squawks an objection and begins listing off his own petty grievances, all of which fall on apparently deaf ears, though Li Cu is fucking certain Zhang Qiling wouldn't ever dream of ignoring the man even if he could—he's so clearly whipped already.
That the old relic that is Zhang Qiling is just as smitten by his Daoshi as Wu Xiè himself is taken in return warms Li Cu to the point he must admit to being just a little taken by the man himself.
Just to be clear though, Li Cu is not taken by the older man in the same way Wu Xiè rather obviously wishes to be. And by taken its clear, at least to Li Cu, he means violently and against the nearest wall at every opportunity that presents itself ever. He would never have thought the man capable of it but dear gods Wu Xiè thirsts so hard even Li Cu himself finds himself parched at times.
It certainly doesn't help when the walking wet dream himself that is Zhang Qiling parades around Wushanju's courtyard shirtless and sweating through his sword forms. Every damned line of his Qilin standing out in stark contrast against his long lithe musculature and pale skin.
Li Cu considers taking up drinking on a semi-professional level when the degree of open pining and unresolved sexual tension that permeates the old manor only worsens to the consistency of soup. Lao Zhang taking his leave to follow up on the information Wu Xiè has compiled of his missing memories over the last decade and Li Cu really wishes he'd thought of smashing their skulls together that very first day they'd met or locking them in a room—if he'd thought it could contain either man for any length of time—and demand they sort their shit out and just fuck already.
Then Wu Xiè got sick.
He can still recall the look of utter devastation on Lao Zhang's usually impassive face when he'd received Wu Xiè's message. The expedition he'd joined them on at the behest of Wu Er Bai—and no small amount of wheedling from Li Cu himself—to a remote system of caves in Yunnan Province, a notorious black spot for all things technological, meaning that by the time he'd checked his messages, he'd lost almost two weeks towards the pittance of Wu Xie's rapidly approaching deadline.
He'd known they'd be together, of course he did. Wu Xiè knew them both to disturbing degrees, personally or geographically, it made no difference to the man whose abilities far surpassed mere mortal deduction and reasoning to the point of precognition.
However he managed it though, Li Cu had still been pissed at Wu Xiè for being a bastard and doing this to them both. For only telling him part of the plan and using Wu nǎi nai's safety as an excuse to keep him away. For not telling Lao Zhang, first of all, that he was absolutely and stupidly in love with him and for making him desperate with worry. For getting sick in the first place after all the shit they'd been through and not realizing that it would never just be his death Pang-ge will bear because everyone knows now, that where Wu Xiè goes, Zhang Qiling will follow—no questions asked—yet even at the end he'd still not said a fucking word to the man about how he felt.
For all that Wu Xiè talks he says nothing and there's only so much information that can be gleaned from a good eye fuck. Jesus Christ, his poor Lao Zhang was probably confused as fuck right about now—on top of the hurt—as to just what it is his very pretty but emotionally constipated Qīzi actually wants.
Fuck! What is wrong with these people?!
He bites back the urge to outright yell at the man when he finally returns to Wushanju—whole and all but cured with Lao Zhang and Pang-ge in tow. A handful of strays clinging to their apron strings he and Kan Jian are quick to take bets on who'll be first to nurse a broken heart when they inevitably try and fail to pick up either of the two men who are still so fucking oblivious to each other's feelings there's no fucking room for anyone else.
Xiao Bai is cute, smart, and openly vocal in her appreciation of and devotion to her San-ge, though he barely pays her any mind otherwise. Lao Zhang likewise appears oblivious to the longing gazes Liu Sang shoots in his direction unless it lingers, surprisingly enough, on Wu Xiè himself—in which case his gaze turns decidedly interested and Li Cu would really rather not think about what that means for the two stupidly stubborn old bastards who've clearly yet to just fucking devour each other against the closest wall and be done with it.
So, he gets drunk. Very, very drunk and gives them both a piece of his mind.
He later comes to regret that the snake venom he'd spent months snorting didn't so much as destroy his sense of smell but heighten it to the point he almost gags the next morning when they emerge smelling of each other and something more he can't quite put his finger on. Almost like the stench of death that had come to permeate Wu Xiè had dissipated in the wake of the cold biting edge of whatever it is that prolongs Zhang Qiling's life to bury itself deep into the very fabric of Wu Xie's being.
He suddenly wretches at the turn of phrase and makes a point to ask about just what happened in Thunder City once he's done throwing up and can finally look either of them in the eyes again. Not that he isn't happy for them, of course, because he is. He loves them both like the very breath that sustains him after all. He'd just really rather not, and much like Pangzi, ever hear, see, smell or even think about what goes on behind Wu Xie's closed door.
He'd been grateful for the blessing that was Wushanju's solid walls and sprawling grounds which went a long way in sparing the old mansions current residents the misfortune of overhearing the pair at it like rabid dogs. Until of course, it isn't.
Though to be fair who would have guessed the man dubbed Tianzhen Wu Xiè would be quite so capable of tearing such wanton sounds from Zhang Qiling's mute lips.
Wang Meng had looked beyond traumatized, though not entirely surprised, while Kan Jian's shit-eating grin remained firmly in place for most of the day. Pangzi of course had been less than forgiving as he'd covered Xiao Mai's ears, scowling at the pair over her head when they'd finally emerged and immediately announced they'd be moving across the compound beside Wu nǎi nai if they were going to insist on making a production of it.
Xiao Bai—who'd slept like the dead and therefore missed the spectacle entirely—blushed profusely at the welts shamelessly adorning both men's skin, though Li Cu could tell she was secretly pleased at the development which only solidified her place amongst them in his mind.
Liu Sang, on the other hand, had remained resolutely silent on the matter—once he'd finally dragged himself out of bed that is. The man shuffling past him like a zombie into the kitchen sometime after lunch—sans earplugs and sporting some of the darkest bags beneath his bespectacled eyes Li Cu has ever seen.
The entire coffee pot carefully cradled against his chest and a mug in his other hand when he returns to take a seat at the dinner table.
In hindsight it probably wasn't the greatest idea to have him share a wall with the two love birds. Pangzi taking pity on the man whose batteries more than likely failed trying to keep the white noise at a level that afforded his friends at least some semblance of privacy by waiting until he'd at least finished his first mug and half a youtiao—courtesy of Lao Zhang—before he started his usual good natured ribbing.
He was pretty, for a man, Li Cu had to admit. Not in the same way that Lao Zhang was of course, or even Wu Xiè for that matter. Liu Sang was soft and delicate—prickly when provoked but oh so very competent and ultimately—just their fucking type.
He tries not to think about what that or the fact neither Wu Xiè nor Zhang Qiling have broached the subject of Liu Sang switching rooms means, though from what he knows of the man he can certainly hold his own and isn't backward about coming forward about anything.
The scowl he turns on Wu Xiè too as he sidles closer satisfying in the way it makes the already far too smug man visibly deflate and turn a pout at Lao Zhang like a kicked puppy.
Li Cu realizes in that moment that—given time and enough wheedling on Wu Xie's part— something will most definitely come of this and promptly stuffs it into the recesses of his mind to repress later.
He doesn't want to know any more about their private lives than he already does now, thank you very much.
He spares a thought then for his Wan Jie and her potential disappointment at no longer being the only Zhang Matriarch in existence now Lao Zhang's finally got his shit together. Li Cu snickering at the thought of Wu Xie's face when he finally tells him as much.
Truth be told though there's really no one else in Li Cu's mind more worthy than Wu Xiè to bear the title. This ridiculously flawed man who'd delt the final blow against the Wangs and unraveled a conspiracy spanning three generations to deliver , not just the Zhangs, but the world at large from the hands of ultimate destruction.
A man who'd spent what was to be his final hours with those he cherished most seeking answers so he could face death without regret only to return to life and save his beloved family once again from itself.
Li Cu reminds Ershu to this fact the next time he drags him off to the back end of beyond and tries to recruit him to the Wu cause. Unfortunately, he's not quite drunk enough at the time not to physically gag at the thought of Wu Xiè pumping out brats with anyone else but Lao Zhang—or maybe Sang-ge— and proceeds to further educate Wu Er Bai on the apparently confronting and utterly unrepentant reality that is his nephew's choice in how he lives his life.
That both himself and Liu Sang are added to the Wu Family Registry alongside Zhang Qiling as Wu Xie's official line of succession by the time he gets back to Wushanju comes as no surprise to anyone except perhaps Wu Xiè himself. He's no time sulk over it though once Wu nǎi nai arrives to scold him—not for being who he is or loving who he does, of course, never that—but for withholding his household from her for so very long that she'll likely die before she's a chance to spoil them all like they deserve for all the shit they've had to put up with from him all these years.
The image of all three members of the Iron Triangle on their knees before her is a priceless memory Li Cu will forever cherish—and unfortunately for them, an inescapable one once Xiao Hua shares the photo via WeChat.
It doesn't spare Li Cu a lecture from Wu Xiè later that night once she's left however over his inability to engage a filter during his drunken escapades so he might at least be saved some face.
"Too late." Pangzi quips as Lao Zhang smirks from Wu Xie's other side.
Indignant as he might be, Li Cu doesn't have the heart to remind him that if it hadn't been for his drunken escapades and a distinct lack of filter, the pretty idiot wouldn't be sandwiched between his two lovers at all. But he doesn't because he isn't crass like that anymore.
There's also the very likely chance Lao Zhang might decide to put him through his paces again for any sass after a stunt like that regardless of just how fucking entertained the man looks, so he bites his tongue, bides his time and most definitely accepts the beer Kan Jian sets down in front of him during dinner.
That the expression that crosses Wu Xie's face as he raises his own beer in a toast is softer than Li Cu has ever known hits him like a knife to the chest and he almost buckles beneath the weight of the other man's gaze. Unfathomably dark eyes that speak volumes to the gratitude he feels but will never ever voice aloud for fear he'll lose it all by simply acknowledging it and he scoffs.
"You're an idiot."
"Mn," Wu Xiè chuckles, sharing a glance with Lao Zhang as he nods, "So I've been told."
Li Cu sighs and thinks it's probably a good thing there's not a chance in hell this man will ever breed—outside of divine intervention that is, which unfortunately for him, might prove a legitimate concern considering his Daoshi's penchant for pulling miracles out his ass.
He groans at the sudden vision of ridiculously cute but ultimately devastating spawn that would likely result from that three-way trainwreck of miscommunication and stupidity and promptly longs for a sudden and spontaneous case of retrograde amnesia.
Lao Zhang's smirk is far too knowing as their eyes meet and Li Cu sighs in defeat. They'll be the death of him again, he's sure.
But he'd be lying if he said he'd have it any other way.
