hold the bright moon in my arms
by Rose Thorne
Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with The Untamed, and make no money writing fanfiction.
Chapter One
Pretty much the only time Wei Wuxian spent in the Unclean Realm was during the Sunshot campaign, which wasn't the best time for him or for the place. He was honestly glad his memory of the time was fairly spotty, owing in part to spending it as drunk as possible—it gave him the ability to make better memories instead of being immersed in those of war and death and grave dirt.
Nie Huaisang calling over the wall when they moved out for him, no one else, to take care, was one of a few that weren't a blur of blood and pain. His friend, he knew now, was aware something was wrong, even if he didn't know what, and apparently aside from wanting his brother safe, Wei Wuxian was one of the few others in the jianghu who held that perhaps dubious honor.
While his old friend had gained a reputation over the years as a know-nothing pitiful fop of a leader, he knew full well how carefully curated that image was after the fall of Jin Guangyao, knew better than anyone not to trust the assumptions of the cultivation world and gentry—who had, after all, painted him as a grave-robbing cannibal who stole children in the night, when in fact he'd been farming and trying to help a group of elderly refugees (and one child) survive at barely-subsistence level.
It was actually somewhat impressive that they managed to get one out of three right, though just thinking that put him off meat several days, made him don the warmest robes Nie Huaisang had supplied for him. For many reasons, he preferred to keep the memories associated with his first time in the Burial Mounds firmly locked away.
He was grateful Nie Huaisang didn't pry, just had the kitchens make more dishes with tofu and, when he requested, multiple potato-based dishes. If he knew what put Wei Wuxian off meat, he never said, never even looked at him with pity—just accepted it and accommodated. It was possible he had guessed the reason, but Wei Wuxian appreciated his discretion.
Contrary to what outsiders might assume, Nie Huaisang was a formidable and capable leader, knowing when to delegate tasks not in his wheelhouse to his many able disciples, who all seemed to adore him as more of a didi than a zongzhu. It was a fascinating relationship, one borne out of love in a way Wei Wuxian wasn't sure was even possible for other sects, making it more of a found family.
Unfortunately, he was also busy in the aftermath of his arrival, his spies reporting in constantly for things that he insisted needed to be handled in private. He could understand Nie Huaisang's desire to work without him interrupting, and was happy not to get involved—he'd rather not be too involved with the jianghu, anyway. However, it meant Wei Wuxian was left somewhat aimless, and trying not to let himself get bored. Even Wei Wuxian knew that a bored Wei Wuxian was a troublemaking Wei Wuxian.
He only found himself at loose ends the first couple of days, doted on with the best available, whether it was food, as much talisman paper and art supplies as he could ever need, a pouch of tael and an open invitation to have a bevy of eager disciples accompany him to the market, a bed more comfortable than any he had ever slept in (save perhaps the jingshi), and soft, warm robes cut and dyed with Qinghe colors but for red accents the color of his ribbon…
He wasn't stupid; he knew these details meant Nie Huaisang had been planning and preparing for his visit for some time, perhaps as long as he'd been alive again. If not longer.
Then when he was wandering the halls, the stony dank dimness of the Unclean Realm too much like that of the Demon Slaughtering Cave, feeling lost, a popo took his arm and led him to a crèche, multiple colorful rooms filled with children of all ages, some, he learned, orphans from the street.
"There are no street children in Qinghe," the popo told him when he expressed surprise. "Zongzhu won't permit it. If they can cultivate and wish to, they can become disciples. Otherwise they learn a trade."
Another aspect, it seemed, of the Nie clan found family.
The operation was impressive, with educational areas for all ages, stations for play, stimulation, and learning, all designed to help the children find an interest that could become a career while playing.
"Zongzhu seeks street kids wherever he is, and brings them here," a girl about A-Yuan's age with a scar across most of one cheek told him. "I'm from Lanling. Mama was a prostitute."
When her mother was dying and she was just a toddler, she said, she scarred her daughter's face so she couldn't become one herself, hoping she would have a better life as a servant. Instead the brothel owner threw her out once her mother was dead, just shy of four years old and still injured.
"I would've died in the gutter if Zongzhu hadn't found me and brought me here."
The girl had silver eyes and features that indicated who her father may have been, but she had taken the Nie name. She only helped at the crèche when her disciple duties permitted.
She seemed keen to talk to him about the crèche, unafraid despite knowing who he was and his reputation, which was refreshing among the sects.
Nie Huaisang, as it turned out, ran a network of people who brought him street kids from all over the jianghu, too. He paid them for each child they brought to the Unclean Realm, so it was a little like bounty hunting but meant to make lives better. Sometimes parents sold their own children to the Nie, and he permitted this, reasoning it was better for the child and the parents, who potentially had too many mouths to feed and would otherwise sell their children into prostitution or servitude. Sometimes an older child who was recently orphaned in nearby towns and villages would make their own way to the Unclean Realm, at times with younger siblings, word having spread that there was a good place to go. Wei Wuxian was certain some were likely runaways, escaping terrible pasts and families, but Nie Huaisang wouldn't mind that either.
The crèche was wonderful for reasons that layered on themselves but amounted to his own orphanhood, and how much different life could have been had such a place existed when his parents died—all wrapped up in things he didn't want to think about. Bittersweet, in a way, not that he would ever begrudge these children this happiness and stability.
A toddler wandered past him, waving a grass butterfly, and it was all the world like watching tiny Wen Yuan putter around with his own in the Burial Mounds, and all at once it was too much.
A-Yuan, who Lan Zhan rescued and made Lan Yuan. Lan Sizhui, whose name was like a declaration of something Wei Ying couldn't figure out.
A-Yuan, who grew into an upright and righteous young man, without Wei Wuxian. He'd missed all those years, and there was no getting them back.
When he left Gusu, A-Yuan had not yet returned from his journey to Dafan with Wen Ning. There was so much to catch up on, but he didn't know if he had the right to impose on Lan Sizhui, whose reputation would be better off if he didn't associate with the Yiling Laozu, whether his name was partially cleared.
He retreated to his quarters, his peace broken by a ghost of memory, and made use of the high-quality paper and paints that had been in his room when he arrived. Wei Wuxian was only half-aware of what he was painting, and when he was able to focus again he found it was a watercolor of A-Yuan, when he was a toddler, and Wen Qing, the latter handing him a grass butterfly with a faint smile, the former grinning off the paper.
When it was dry, he bundled it up to send to the Cloud Recesses for Lan Sizhui. The youth was only just regaining his memories of those precious stolen years of life, and it could help spark memories of his gugu. She deserved to be remembered.
At dinner, he asked Nie Huaisang to send it. His old friend requested to see his work, and Wei Wuxian saw no reason to deny him.
"Skillfully painted, Wei-xiong."
It was, disappointingly, all the feedback he got after a long moment of studied silence, at least until they were in the cups after dinner.
"I tried to talk to Dage. Then I tried to use my spies to smuggle her out, but it was too late. I'm glad the boy survived."
Wei Wuxian hadn't been aware Nie Huaisang knew Lan Sizhui was A-Yuan, but that made it clear.
"I didn't know Hanguang-Jun had saved him, not until later. They were careful, thank the heavens."
Or the jianghu would have called for a toddler's blood, he means, Wei Wuxian knows. If they came to know, they still might, but he knew Lan Zhan would destroy anyone who tried.
If anyone tried, Wei Wuxian would ensure they never reincarnated. He could become the monster they expected, if it meant protecting A-Yuan.
Wei Wuxian eventually asked about the crèche, mentioning the girl he met. Nie Huaisang looked pensive, taking a deep drink of liquor before answering.
"It started right after you, well… She was the first. I came across her in an alley in Lanling at the next discussion conference. They were celebrating and I needed air… and I couldn't just leave her. Dage was just glad I was taking interest in something, so he let me bring her home."
He was quiet for a long time, and Wei Wuxian could imagine much of what he wasn't saying.
"Her mother named her Wei, 维, like her name would safeguard her. I gave her the courtesy name Yingwei, 英维—you know we Nie give them to female cultivators just like male. I told her she could be a hero and save others as a cultivator, and she took the Nie name when she became a disciple."
Wei Wuxian nearly choked on his wine. No wonder the girl had been comfortable talking to him—she'd been named in his honor. He didn't really know how to feel about that; first Sizhui, now Nie Yingwei.
"I just kept bringing them home when I encountered them, got some grandmothers whose kids died in the Sunshot Campaign to move to the Unclean Realm and work with them, hired tutors, and it just kind of took off from there."
He didn't bring up the girl again, just told him about how he expanded it to women and children escaping abuse, even former prostitutes.
"We even ran across some of those awful trafficking rings—those ones that steal kids and women and sell them into slavery—and got rid of them. I'm not good at cultivation or fighting, but this was something I could do to make the world a better place, like you and Hanguang-Jun. The jianghu saw it as a frivolous thing since it didn't involve improving life for the gentry. And Jing Guangshan hated it, but he couldn't do anything about it even as Chief Cultivator."
It was a conversation far more serious than most he'd had with Nie Huaisang, who seemed almost embarrassed by what he perceived as only a minor thing.
Wei Wuxian disagreed entirely, and refreshed both of their cups of wine.
"To making the world a better place, through cultivation or administration," he said, holding his cup up in a toast. "And to giving orphans family."
Nie Huaisang smiled, raising his cup and drinking deeply, and conversation turned to more trivial matters, with his old friend decrying how much amazing poetry and literature he'd missed while he was dead, insisting Wei Wuxian visit the library in the coming days.
Once they were deeper in their cups, Nie Huaisang turned back into the boy he once knew, no trace of the manipulator, complaining at length about the duties he couldn't delegate that prevented him from painting and reading spring books as he wished.
"Ah, I have so many I haven't gotten to read yet! I got my hands on a rare cutsleeve series, even, and it's just gathering dust."
That brought to memory the book of cutsleeve porn he'd pranked Lan Zhan with back before the war in the library.
Nie Huaisang remembered that, too.
"You never did get to read that one," he said, lolling in his seat. "I did replace it, so you should finally get the chance."
Wei Wuxian could only laugh and help his far-too-drunk friend to his quarters, handing him off to a servant who looked at his zongzhu with fond exasperation.
The next day after the midday meal, Wei Wuxian found a stack of cutsleeve spring books on the desk in his room, including the series Nie Huaisang must have been referring to.
It was entitled "Unity: The Lords of Light and Dark."
Yingwei is using the character 英 for hero/brave and 维 for safeguard. Wei has a different pronunciation from the wei in Wei Wuxian's name. Ying has the same intonation.
wangxianling on Twitter has an amazing thread discussing the meaning of Chen Qing Ling, and mentioned that the chen in 陈情 (chenqing) has the same tonal pronunciation as the chen in Bichen (避尘), and bichen(qing) = Bichen; (bi)chenqing = chenqing; you in me and me in you, unity, when you swap the chen characters. Hence the title of the cutsleeve porn. There's more in the thread that's pretty interesting, but I wanted an homage to mxtx there. The Twitter post on their Twitter is 1217570919276638210
Of course, the series was commissioned by a certain someone. He commissioned graphic novel fanfiction of his favorite couple that never was. Because nhs may be a manipulator, but he's also a sap.