A/N: This story was inspired by a fanfic/ficlet written by mondengel on tumblr, which was prompted by an ask written by poor-wifi-uwu, which can be found here: mondengel. tumblr post/189889230968/12-eldritch-ypwwx-going-into-labor-in
It is a very well written and an intriguing concept, I suggest checking out their written works! However, A Mother's Love does diverge from this in multiple points. (Even so, heads up for possible spoilers if you read their work!)
This is my first fanfic, nor do I currently have a beta, but I hope you like it! As a heads up, I am not an expert in Chinese language, history, culture, etc., so any constructive criticism or interesting tidbits would be greatly appreciated! See the end of the work for additional notes. :)
Please don't repost without permission. I don't own "The Untamed" or "Mo Dao Zu Shi", this is a fanfic.
Thank you for reading!
...
Chapter 1:Well That Went Well
Lan Zhan felt total bliss.
It wasn't that he had lusted after this moment. Not that he was upset that it was happening, he just couldn't believe that it was happening to him. He felt so happy, so loved that it almost hurt, deep within his chest. A forgotten ache that he forced himself to forget, finally balmed.
To finally be allowed to choose, and be accepted for his choice, was a wonder. This overwhelming feeling of acceptance and trust felt more beautiful than the golden core inside him, spinning in time to his heartbeat. To be here, with this person.
To have been chosen in return.
The blissful dream ended as he woke to the fifth toll of a distant bell. Lan Zhan opened his eyes to the grey light of dawn filling an unfamiliar room. He rolled over, taking in his location. Then he froze, his breath hitching, and he stared. Stared in horror at what he had done.
The Gusu sleep schedule, driven into him since birth, had caused him to wake before his sleeping bedmate, who laid bare and graceful under the light sheet that covered them both. Their vibrant joyous face was slack with sleep, hiding those beautiful silver eyes which always seemed to reflect the beauty of the world back onto whatever they gazed upon. That made him feel worthwhile with every look, like he was more than just a family name or model student, but a person.
Lan Zhan slid from the bed and reached for his clothes, feeling chilled to the bone by more than just the soft morning air. He felt like an evil phantom as he moved about in the early morning quiet of the inn, like a trespasser, a dishonorable thief that had stolen a precious treasure in the dark of night.
Which is exactly what he had done.
He knew Wei Ying had a drinking problem, an unfaced one that had grown steadily worse through every additional hardship through which he'd been placed. He knew that his friend was suffering, had observed him drinking too much and too often, starkly noticeable even with the few times they'd crossed paths of late. Yet still Lan Zhan had taken the proffered drink when Wei Ying had said he didn't want to drink alone. Had failed to comment on the already empty bottles when they'd crossed paths in the restaurant downstairs, too focused on his own happiness and surprise at seeing Wei Ying there.
The GusuLan forehead ribbon symbolized restraint, a righteous self-discipline and higher standard of behavior, that marked the trustworthy and virtuous, recognized by all the cultivation world and beyond. He'd been neither when he saw it wrapped around his friend's wrist, a mockery of love and devotion, a friend he no longer deserved to have, knotted so tightly that he was forced to desperately slice off the end using spiritual energy, in order to slip away.
He heard Wei Ying shift on the bed behind him, and he turned to look, before quickly glancing away. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing those eyes turned upon him in hatred or fear, to see their bright light grow cold and disdaining. The disgust he felt for himself was so strong, he figured it must be rippling off him in waves, a horrible emotion too strong for him to contain. Chocking in it, drowning him.
"Lan…Zhan?"
That normally cheerful voice sounded low and confused, still thick with sleep. Not yet filled with horror or betrayal. But that would soon come.
Lan Zhan picked up his sword and walked to the door without looking back. He couldn't look.
He was a coward.
Lan Zhan stepped out into the hall and let the door fall softly shut behind him. The noise didn't prevent him from hearing the strangled whimper that came from the bed.
It felt like a shard of ice, stabbed straight through his heart.
...
Wei Ying felt content. No, that wasn't right, he felt at peace. Not peaceful, but at peace.
He couldn't remember the last time that he felt so calm, so safe and warm. Ever since the Burial Mounds he had felt resentful energy whirring through him, inside him, the screams of the disquiet dead at the edge of his consciousness. Sometimes ignorable, but never truly gone. They plagued his waking moments and his every nightmare. It exacerbated the empty hollow that once held his golden core, filling his chest with an icy feeling, numbing him to the world. Making him feel alone.
It had been useful during the war. Allowing him to get revenge. With it he could protect his family:
a-Cheng, Shijie.
Family. The most precious thing.
Resentful energy was turmoil liquefied. It begs for destruction. An echo that reflects back all of the abuse and hatred in the world. A black fog that contains every danger and misdeed. A salivating dog that infects all it touches. A dangerous vitriolic force that must be heavily restrained, coerced into behaving, as it claws and snarls at the world.
And it was inside him.
He could still feel it now. How Chenqing hummed in response to its passive touch, a feeling audible only in his own mind, the flute sitting on a nearby table instead of clutched in his fist like how he normally slept.
But this morning, the burden didn't feel so heavy. Wei Ying smiled into his pillow. He could still feel the phantom sensation of fingers gently running through his hair, as they had done the night before. He blushed slightly, they had both been passionate, engulfed in what seemed like many years' worth of feelings. But what really lingered was the feeling of being cherished, of being held tenderly. Of being seen in completion, faults and all, and still being accepted, wanted, by another person.
By the person he most respected, most admired.
And Lan Zhan had wanted him too. Him. The demonic cultivator, Yiling Lazou. He couldn't believe it, it almost felt too good to be true.
He reached his hand out to the other side of the bed, searching for that precious someone, who had chosen him. But the bed was empty, the sheets cold to the touch. Wei Ying opened bleary eyes, lifting his head slightly, mussed dark hair falling to frame his face.
Wei Ying smiled fondly. His missing bedmate stood a few steps away from the edge of the bed. They were in the small room Wei Ying had rented a few days before, as part of an extended night hunt away from Lotus Pier. Lan Zhan was dressed in his usual white robes, finishing the last tie on his belt. The early morning light made him look pearlescent, like a divine immortal descended from heaven to bless the land. Straight backed, elegant, immaculate perfection, just as he'd always been.
The man turned slightly, before looking away, without meeting Wei Ying's eye. Wei Ying froze, his heart stuttering in his chest. His stomach dropped to his toes, the tips of his fingers going numb.
Lan Zhan's face was smooth, pale, and stoic like jade, as it always was. But there were no adorable micro-expressions flickering across his face like usual. Instead he seemed closed off, guarded. But what was worse were his eyes.
Those golden eyes had been brimming with disgust.
The air suddenly felt too thick, as fear began crawling up Wei Ying's spine.
"Lan…Zhan?"
The man didn't even look at him.
There were no angry words, no slamming of doors. Nothing but disgust in those golden eyes. Lan Zhan picked up his sword, its scabbard shimmering pearlescent like his robes, and clutching Bichen in a white-knuckle grip, walked out the door. With that action, one of the last unbroken pieces of Wei Ying's heart seemed to shatter, and he whimpered from the pain of it.
Of course, Hanguang-jun wouldn't want him. Lan Zhan was a gentleman of the highest caliber. Surely it had been kindness on his part that kept him from running the Yiling Lazou through with his sword, upon waking to see the monster that he had bed. It was unlikely that any of the reserved disciples of GusuLan would be attracted to any of the boisterous characters found in the YunmengJaing sect. In Gusu physical love was a marital matter, the highest honor and form of devotion. And no member of the main clan would be interested in a person rumoured to be as flirtatiously promiscuous as the heretical Wei Wuxian. It was laughable, really.
A hysterical sob seemed to escape Wei Ying's lips, as he fell limp and lifeless on the bed. He felt devoid from his body, the world dark and unstable. Nowadays, outside of shije and Jiang Cheng, only the scrupulously polite Lan Zhan refused to run from his presence or insult him on sight at public functions. He was one of the few who still treated Wei Ying with common courtesy, without backhanded machinations and increasingly disdaining eyes. Who was willing to judge him by his person, instead of by the numerous cruel rumours, that seemed to follow him in a haze, blacker than the worst resentful energy.
That was why he had been so happy to see Lan Zhan the night before, to discover that they were staying in the same inn. An old friend who didn't despise him, a stalwart figure that always seemed to be where the chaos was, who would never deny a helping hand, if only Wei Ying should ask. An infallibly good presence.
Unlike himself.
Wei Ying shook his head. He knew that GusuLan forbid the consumption of alcohol amongst its disciples. He knew that Lan Zhan had zero tolerance for the stuff, from that time he had tricked Lan Zhan into taking a sip after the man had caught him, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Hausang drinking in Wei Ying's room when they'd attended school there. He knew that the man easily became drunk, that he'd pass out, or lose control of his senses after drinking some, even one glass was enough. That Lan Zhan had no experience mediating those types of effects. Wei Ying knew this. But in his excitement to see Lan Zhan, he'd offered some anyway. To a socially awkward person who inconceivably trusted him and was too polite to refuse. And this was what happened.
Lan Zhan had every right to hate him. He hated himself.
He had killed hundreds during the Sunshot Campaign. Out of necessity. Out of righteous fury, that might be better termed revenge. He hadn't been the only one. But those sins weighed heavy on his heart (the one so many claimed he did not have). But now, this was worse than any previous burden. The blackest sin on his long list of failures. He had no right to be crying.
He really was a monster.
...
Lan Zhan unsteadily made his way down the inn's worn wooden staircase, stopping on the ground floor to stare at the front counter and the many dining tables of the restaurant. To anyone who knew him well, he had a lost look on his face. But to the casual observer, he looked as composed as ever. The perfect example of righteous strength.
At first, he had gone back to his own room, only a few doors down from where Wei Ying's had been. But there was nothing there for him to collect, it was just another place to hide. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Unlike himself, Wei Ying wasn't known to be a quiet person. He had always been vocal, teasingly calling out petty slights in relation to himself, and refusing to backdown when it came to the well-being and protection of others.
This was why conditions in the Wen prison camps had come to light, and had been recently improved, after Wei Ying had indirectly alerted his brother-in-law to their plight. This had resulted in the release of many wrongly imprisoned civilians, and the return of mass amounts of property. But it had also made many people suspicious of Wei Ying's intentions.
Wei Ying had discovered the abuse while tracking a deep-seated source of resentful energy, which had been revealed to be a mass grave behind one of the camps. These revelations had angered a lot of powerful people. Many had lost face from the accusations of foul play or neglect, some forced to pay large reparations. Many others believed that the hated Wen-dogs were getting their just desserts and didn't understand a need for change or why Wei Ying had been there in the first place. Why he had been nosing about in another's territory. Why he had been searching for dark objects. This had added to the sinister speculations surrounding Wei Ying, with many both fearing and coveting his power.
Though eavesdropping was prohibited, Lan Zhan couldn't help the time he overheard Sect Leader Jiang exclaim to Jin Zixuan, from across an open air courtyard in Lanling, that 'it was a good thing Wei Ying hadn't specifically known anyone in that prison camp, or who knows what Wei Ying might have done? What others might have done to him.' The thought had been chilling.
But that had been an external, impersonal matter.
How Wei Ying would respond to something so seriously personal to himself, how he might view this situation, Lan Zhan wasn't sure. Would he want it made known? Lan Zhan knew in his heart that he had taken advantage, though it hadn't been his intent at the time. He knew that he should turn himself over to punishment immediately. It was unconscionable to hide behind the decisions of the injured party. Even if Wei Ying saw it as a casual fling, a best-case scenario that made Lan Zhan's gut clench in a new sort of pain, Lan Zhan had still broken the GusuLan sect rules against alcohol and promiscuity. Crimes, even unwitnessed, should still be punished. Especially in this case, where he had wronged somebody so dearly, and dear to himself. And Lan Zhan was willing to take any punishment, make any reparation, that Wei Ying might ask. And even if he didn't ask, he would punish himself.
But despite hearing movement in the hall, no ghouls came to break down Lan Zhan's door. Neither did Zidian or its angry master. Nor was he confronted with his elder brother's disappointed and horrified face. No one came.
That was how Lan Zhan came to find himself at the bottom of the stairs, looking for his elder brother. It was well past nine, and many hours since he'd first rose. Based off his usual schedule, anyone who knew Wei Ying, knew that he'd be long up by now. But Lan Zhan couldn't stay upstairs forever. His brother had informed him the previous morning, when they'd first set off from Gusu, that they'd be leaving at noon today. The two of them had come to the area to inspect a new sword maker in preparation for a future transaction, who had claimed expertise in the forging of spiritual weapons. Afterwards they had run into sect leader Jiang leading a group of disciples on a night hunt, which they had been begrudgingly invited to join, to the excitement of the students, many of whom were more recent additions to the sect and had yet to see the fighting style of a foreign disciple up close. Especially that of two masters. So, the Twin Jades of Lan had delayed their departure to accommodate this.
Wei Ying had been leading a different group of disciples at the time, on the other side of the forest, and had returned to the inn before them. He had still been downstairs when the rest of them had returned. The disciples had been sent to bed early by the frustrated Sect Leader Jiang Wanyin, who had gone to nurse those frustrations in his room with his own bottle of wine. Lan Xichen had then given Lan Zhan and Wei Ying a knowing smile before retiring as well. If only he had stayed.
Now, his elder brother, Lan Xichen, the sect leader of GusuLan, stood by the door, looking regal in a set of blue and white Lan sect robes. With his jade-like features, the two brothers could be mistaken for twins. Except that Lan Xichen had darker eyes. And unlike Lan Zhan's usually stoic expression, Lan Xichen often sported a soft smile, as he did now.
"Did you and young Master Wei have a nice time last night? You seemed to be getting along quite well."
Lan Zhan did not meet his brother's gaze. So, no conversations had occurred then. He didn't know how to feel about that. How to respond.
Lan Xichen's brows furrowed in concern. "a-Zan, are you well?"
No, I am not, and if those eyes now despise me, I may never be again.
But Lan Zhan didn't answer. Instead, giving a brief nod to indicate that he was, yes, physically well, before walking out the door.
Lan Xichen followed him out the inn. Though his little brother's forehead-ribbon had been perfectly centered in the front, he noted that in the back one of its two tails had become significantly shorter than the other. It must have gotten cut by a stray sword during the previous night's nighthunt. The sect leader decided to remind Lan Zhan later, not wanting to embarrass him about it. Afterall, they were still a day's sword flight away from home and a replacement.
...
It was mid-afternoon and time to go, and all his damned disciples had finally deigned to congregate in the restaurant downstairs. He had let the brats sleep in as an undeserved treat, and NOT because he'd been nursing a hangover. Now there was only one person missing, his stupid brother.
"WHERE THE HELL, IS WEI WUXIAN?!" shouted Jiang Cheng.
None of the nervous disciples could answer their sect leader.
Jiang Cheng had assumed that his brother was off doing who knows what, playing around with that Lan Wangji when he didn't see him for most of the morning. But when asking later, Zewu-jun had been unhelpfully ignorant as to either's location. Jiang Cheng had aborted that discussion when he heard the tell-tale measured footsteps of another GusuLan coming down the stairs, nobody else walked like those people, probably because of their 3000 sect rules. (Though Wei Wuxian was a born troublemaker, and thus biased against such things, Jiang Cheng wholeheartedly agreed with him when he said the volume was ridiculously extreme). Not wanting to talk to the unnervingly quiet Lan Wangji, he'd made a vague excuse and bolted. The Jades had left then, without fanfare or Wei Wuxian anywhere in sight. Normally the fool would be hanging off Lan Wangji to the last possible second, spouting nonsense.
Pounding up the stairs with little thought to the other guests, Jiang Cheng rounded on his brother's door, his spiritual tool Zidian throwing purple sparks around his hand. He banged once on the door before slamming it open and storming inside. The guy didn't deserve any more courtesy than that right now, making them all wait on him.
Wei Wuxian was lying on the bed, apparently still asleep, the lazy-ass.
Jiang Cheng took in the wine bottles scattered across the table and his brother's bloodshot, glassy looking eyes. If Jiang Cheng had to be productive right now while hung-over, well then dam-straight Wei Ying had to be too.
That's when he noticed his brother's bare shoulders and the clothes strewn about the room.
"SINCE WHEN HAVE YOU SLEPT IN THE NUDE?‼!" he asked incredulously.
"ACTUALLY, HANG ON. I DON'T WANT TO KNOW. JUST GET YOUR ASS DRESSED AND DOWNSTAIRS OR WE'RE LEAVING WITHOUT YOU. AND MAYBE THIS TIME I'LL CHANGE THE WARDS SO THEY WON'T LET YOU BACK IN!"
Turning around he went back into the hallway, slamming the door on his way out.
Wei Ying hadn't moved since Lan Zhan had left hours earlier. He felt dirty, unclean, and ached in so many ways he hadn't felt before, that he didn't think was possible. He supposed it was a good thing that Jiang Cheng didn't know what he'd done.
Of course, Lan Zhan hadn't said anything. He was a gentleman, and not the sort to kiss and tell. Besides, even though abundance of pride was forbidden on Cloud Recesses, to claim any association with a demonic cultivator, especially the Yiling Lazou, was too shameful to recount or endure. Especially this kind.
Even though he had only lived in Yiling for a short time in his youth, Wei Ying seemed to be the most famous person associated with the place to emerge in recent years. Though he had no specific hatred for the town and area itself, he held no happy memories there. Indeed, it was the setting of some of his worst life experiences. But by the whims of fate or silly gossips, the name had stuck. It was not a name that he enjoyed.
He felt so tired.
Rising from the bed, he slowly got dressed, collected his belongings, and left. The trip back to Yunmeng's Lotus Pier was uneventful, and despite his brother's blustering threats, no one got locked out.
The next couple of weeks were very hectic. At first, he had wallowed, numbly thinking about Lan Zhan. Then he had decidedly decided to not think about Lan Zhan at all. Though there weren't many cultivator gatherings this time of the year, because now that it was the middle of the summer and the heavy heat was permeating even lofty places like Cloud Recesses, which Wei Ying was decidedly not thinking about, he still made a point not to go anywhere that might cross paths with the Second Young Master Lan. Instead he threw himself into his work, as much as he could without a golden core and still maintain that secret, much to the delight of his brother.
It served as a nice distraction.
All this extra work was leaving Wei Ying feeling more fatigued than normal, even including the "new normal" perpetually weak and tired feeling state of his that had occurred after he had lost his golden core, without the readily available raw power boost that spiritual energy coursing through your veins can provide. This fatigue helped him sleep, though it did little to change his dreams or exhaustion.
The tiredness was also making him more prone to headaches, both of which seemed to worsen when he tried to use demonic cultivation. This got to the point where he began to actively avoid using it at all. He'd also stopped drinking as much. Which was probably a good thing, to be honest. But it hadn't been a conscious choice done for any enlightened reason.
Even after that night at the inn with Lan Zhan, he had kept drinking, albeit guiltily. The alcohol was the only surefire way he had found to deaden his feeling when both awake and asleep, allowing him to perceive negative energy under his terms. He could still reach it if necessary, but it lowered the volume on all the angry souls that seemed to plague every place, every moment. There was no place or time that was truly, 100% quiet. Which was why Wei Ying often showed up trashed, or drank heavily when allowed, at both public and private events. It numbed the pain. He'd even started carrying an emergency bottle in his qiankun bag, just in case. This uncouth, unrepentant behaviour hadn't done much to help his already floundering (deceased) reputation.
But lately he'd been getting nauseous at even a taste of the stuff. Finding even his favorite Emperor's Smile unpalatable. Wei Ying had always been able to stomach his liquor, being very tolerant (which is why he had to drink so vacuously, in such large quantities, in order to render an effect. That was the only reason). But now it was making him violently ill, especially the morning after consumption. Even a single glass could do it. Sometimes with the ill effects lingering to days where he hadn't even drank at all. So, in truth, it's not like he stopped because he had a problem, he didn't, but more because he literally couldn't stomach the stuff any longer.
This lowered alcohol consumption (i.e. none) had pleasantly surprised his sister, Jiang Yanli, who had been secretly worried about him. Jiang Cheng hadn't really noticed though, not caring how much any person drank unless it interfered with their work, or if they were in a drinking contest with each other.
About a week after the Lan Zhan incident, Wei Ying had been surprised to receive a letter in the mail. It had been written with beautiful calligraphy on high quality paper, the handwriting intimately familiar after all the time they'd spent as youths in Gusu's Library Pavilion together.
The address "To Wei Wuxian" instead of the typical "Wei Ying", had made his stomach clench uncomfortably.
The letter had been stiff and formal in tone, cool. Hard to judge without the writer's face there to see. The words had been vague, apologizing for a lapse in proper conduct, that was implied to have been on the part of the sender. Perhaps Lan Zhan had been worried about the letter being intercepted, because those words could have been referring to anything. Even to something so little as forgetting to properly greet a busy host at a banquet or forgetting to return a borrowed handkerchief.
The letter could be easily misinterpreted as a by route nicety. The whole thing had puzzled Wei Ying, since Lan Zhan had nothing to be sorry for.
The man truly was an indescribable gentleman.
Uncertain what to do, Wei Ying had decided to draw cues from the note he'd received and replied in a similar style. Albeit with calligraphy not nearly as perfect or pretty. His response to Lan Zhan had been equally short, polite, and distant, thanking Lan Zhan for the note and apologizing in turn, claiming that he, Wei Ying, had been the one at fault.
No reply letters came after that. Wei Ying hadn't really expected one, though he wishes there had been. But he pushed that thought aside, he knew the desire was selfish. He had been in the wrong after-all, Lan Zhan didn't owe him anything, the man never had.
During all this drama Wei Ying didn't think much on missing one of his monthlies. He had always been irregular, a stereotype associated with omegas, though it really wasn't that more pervasive a trait than in the other two generic body-types, beta and alpha.
That irregularity had increased after his stay in the Burial Mounds, so missing one now really wasn't all that noteworthy. (He had not seen a doctor since Wen Qing had removed his Golden Core, since any doctor worth their salt would notice if something that vital had been missing). In actuality he appreciated it, not having to deal with the mess or inconvenience that monthlies normally bring. It wasn't important.
With all the other unexpected changes that had occurred, things that had gone wrong in their lives during recent years, like the war, and the massacre of their home, this little change was a small matter. An unremarkable blessing. Not worth looking into. Quickly forgotten and accepted in favour of more important, more pressing concerns.
...
A/N: The ficlet that inspired this story referenced a traditional version of the alpha/beta/omega trope. However, due to some unfavorable connotations associated with this trope, I decided to make some changes/give it a new twist. In this story, instead of alpha/beta/omega being a term for a secondary gender, they are just terms for the three generic body-types that can be found in this world. Additionally, there is no ability/usage of auras/scents to compel another person through intimidation or lust to do things against their will. In this world's story, such influencers hold no more power or ability than they do in our own. (I am considering using a heightened sense of smell that might help with tracking or personal identifiers, perhaps even allowing people to 'smell fear' during extreme situations. But I am as of yet undecided). There are also no "heats" or "ruts".
In this world a "beta" is pretty much your average human in build/height and looks. An "alpha" is typically larger and broader than the average human (i.e. betas), though not quite in the realm of the unnatural. They generally have a larger, jock type build, with typically bulkier musculature, with sharper more defined edges. Chiseled features like chins, cheekbones, etc. Very strong looking (though not necessarily in a bodybuilder kind of way).
"Omegas" in this world are mostly average in height, or a little taller than betas, though still shorter than most alphas. They tend to have a more lithe build, with leaner musculature and softer edges. They tend to be androgynous in appearance, able to easily pass as either male or female depending on how they choose to style themselves, regardless of their sex (literally meaning the style of their clothes, i.e. wearing robes that are cut for men versus women, or sporting a more traditionally male versus female hairstyle as social indicators, without the need for heavy makeup or other special effects).
Intersex individuals are not extremely common in this world, but not so uncommon for their presence to be surprising to occur. For the most part their existence is a known, accepted part of society albeit not a majority percentage. Stereotypically they are associated as occurring more frequently within the omega body-type, though this has never actually been definitively proven. Additionally, being of a certain body-type doesn't necessarily preclude or assure a person of having/developing a certain ability or trait. For instance, an alpha can have heavy musculature and still look elegant, it doesn't necessarily mean bulky. Or an omega can be just as rad a body-builder as an alpha or beta. Nor is one group necessarily prettier or more predisposed to aggression or anything like that. Each human in this world has an equal capacity for kindness, intelligence, morality, beauty/strength by both internal and external measures. How each person in this world judges those things/approaches them/and applies them varies by each unique individual.
As for the characters: Lan Zhan is a male with an alpha body-type (he is sturdy like a mountain. To quote Disney's Mulan "no matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it"). Wei Ying was raised as and identifies as male and is intersex, but does have the capacity to conceive, and has an omega body-type. Jiang Cheng is male with an alpha body-type, though he is a little on the smaller side. Lan Xichen (since the two brothers are suppose to look so much alike) is also a male with an alpha body-type, though a little bit leaner in build when compared to his younger brother (where Lan Zhan is a mountain, Lan Xichen is sturdy like an old oak tree, a little more graceful and flexible).
My apologies if I've misused/misspelled any terminology/conventions like "shijie" in the story. In case it wasn't clear, I'm using the centered "..." to indicate scene changes/time jumps. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I'll see you next chapter! :D
