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“Can we concentrate on reading? For once?” Jiang Cheng asks, covering his face with his palm. Nie Huaisang exchanges a grin with Wei Wuxian, adding another embellishment to the rather unflattering portrait of Lan Qiren that they’ve been collaborating on instead of studying.
“I think he feels left out,” Nie Huaisang says.
“Aw, you want us to draw you next?” Wei Wuxian asks.
Jiang Cheng is about to smack Wei Wuxian with a book when he suddenly straightens up and focuses on his work, tight-lipped with fear. Nie Huaisang senses danger and, with fluid, near-automatic motion, opens a large text of cultivation principles to cover the drawing. It’s not a moment too soon, as Wei Wuxian speaks up rather loudly. “Zewu-Jun, what a nice surprise to see you here!”
A cold prickle of fear creeps up Nie Huaisang’s spine, while at the same time a burst of fluttering rises in his chest. He turns and looks up to see Lan Xichen smiling down at the three of them. Had he seen…?
But there is no accusation in Lan Xichen’s expression, and his demeanor is mild as he responds. “It’s nice to see the three of you, too. How are your studies coming along today?”
Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian assure Lan Xichen that they are breezing through the assigned readings. When Lan Xichen turns to Nie Huaisang, however, he finds himself tongue-tied.
“I-I’m finding the reading very, um, interesting,” Nie Huaisang attempts to say. It’s been a while since he’s spoken to Lan Xichen, and he can’t remember his eyes ever being this lovely the last time he was this close.
“Oh?” Lan Xichen prompts.
Nie Huaisang goes redder and redder as he tries to remember even a single item from the curriculum.
Wei Wuxian takes “pity” on him. “He was just telling us about how much he enjoyed the lecture on applied qi stimulation.”
Right, that lecture. Nie Huaisang had spent the whole time taking internal notes on how wildly the academic theories differed from all the qi stimulation porn he’d read. “That’s right,” he says, though his blush doesn’t diminish at all. “It’s, um, amazing how many applications there are. I never knew it could be such a versatile technique.”
“I’m pleased to hear you enjoyed the topic,” Lan Xichen says. He really does look genuinely pleased, like Nie Huaisang’s interest in qi stimulation is the best thing he’s heard all day. “If you want, I can compile a list of some books for further reading.”
“Thanks, that would…that would be great,” Nie Huaisang replies, doing his best to look grateful.
Lan Xichen smiles and bids farewell to the three of them, then continues on his way to whatever it was he was doing. They watch his back until he turns a corner out of sight, and the second it’s safe, Wei Wuxian collapses into helpless giggles.
“Nie-xiong, your face,” he gasps.
“Shut up, I thought I was gonna die,” Nie Huaisang complains, pulling a fan out of his sleeve and fluttering it vigorously to try and cool his face.
“Why are you so scared of him? He’s such a pushover,” Jiang Cheng says.
“Yeah, I don’t think he even noticed this,” Wei Wuxian says, tapping a corner of the drawing of Lan Qiren that’s peeking out from under Nie Huaisang’s textbook.
How is Nie Huaisang supposed to say that whenever he looks at Lan Xichen, his head fills with clouds and his insides turn into jelly? That the tilt of his head, the fall of his hair, and the way his eyes crinkle so easily into a smile all leave Nie Huaisang tongue-tied and dispossessed from his faculties?
“He’s friends with my brother,” Nie Huaisang says instead, and he doesn’t have to go into it more. Both Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian have heard enough horror stories about his brother, and all three of them know that Lan Xichen would be an absolute open book about whatever Nie Huaisang is getting up to. They tease him a little more—how can anyone be afraid of Lan Xichen? —and they return to their studies.
Several disciples from the Qinghe Nie Sect all share a dorm room with Nie Huaisang while they study in the Cloud Recesses. Naturally, the conversations can get fairly rowdy, especially late at night when the Gusu Lan Sect is all fast asleep.
“It’s so dumb that they don’t let us see the girls here,” one boy grouses. The others all agree, Nie Huaisang included. His porn collection is getting a bit dog-eared with how often he’s lending it out.
“Yeah, the closest thing we get to seeing a girl these days is Zewu-Jun,” another boy says, triggering a wave of giggles. Nie Huaisang feels the breath leave his body, probably taking a good bit of his soul with it. He busies himself with rearranging his bedsheets as the other disciples continue. No one’s paying attention to him, though. For the sect leader’s brother, he gets very little respect among the Nie juniors.
“Honestly though? I’d hit it,” the first boy says, just on the line between laughing and serious. Before anyone can react, he raises his voice defensively. “Hey, I have eyes, is all I’m saying. Not like there’s anyone better-looking around, so why not?”
“You’re not wrong,” someone agrees, and soon boys are trading illicit whispers about what it would be like to be Lan Xichen’s lover, to be the lucky person who got his first kiss, to push him down and reenact the smutty scenes they’re all so familiar with on paper. Nie Huaisang sits on his bed and buries his face in a random book from his collection. He stares through the page, listening to the other boys whispering, and feels himself burning and burning in shame and jealousy. He’s been foolish enough to think he was the only one looking, the only one bold enough to fall for the untouchable Zewu-Jun, but now it’s apparent that he’s not the only one paying attention. His roommates are nothing to worry about, but there have to be others, people more powerful and attractive than Nie Huaisang will ever be. He’s just as pathetic as any of these other Nie disciples, coveting what will never be his.
It doesn’t stop him from dreaming about it in the quiet hours of the night. It doesn’t stop him from imagining what it would be like to have those perfect lips smiling for him and him alone.
It’s been a few months since Lan Xichen has been in Qinghe, and the occasion is special enough that Nie Mingjue invites him for dinner in the Unclean Realm. Lan Xichen gratefully accepts, looking forward to a relaxing evening dining with his good friend.
They dine in one of Nie Mingjue’s private halls, and Lan Xichen is pleased to find that Nie Huaisang is joining them. He’s a sweet kid, a little lazy and a bit of a headache for his older brother, but Lan Xichen misses hearing his bright laughter ringing out across Cloud Recesses (technically an infringement of the Gusu Lan rules, but in Lan Xichen’s eyes, a little rule-breaking by outsiders can always be forgiven).
“And how are you doing, Huaisang?” Lan Xichen asks as he pours himself another cup of tea.
Oddly, Nie Huaisang chokes on his mouthful of broth and splutters when he is addressed. Nie Mingjue slaps his brother on the back a few times as he coughs.
“What the hell, Huaisang? Have some manners,” Nie Mingjue scolds. Before Lan Xichen can speak up in Nie Huaisang’s defense, his coughing subsides and he waves his brother off.
“Sorry,” he gasps, face red.
“Is everything ok?” Lan Xichen asks.
“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine, I was just…surprised, it’s nothing,” Nie Huaisang says, rushing through his words. “Um, everything is fine with me, how about you?”
Lan Xichen smiles at the deflection. “You’re a fan of calligraphy, right?” He knows this because calligraphy had been the only portion of his Gusu Lan exams in which Nie Huaisang had received excellent marks. “Have you been working on anything lately?”
“Ah, it’s nothing worth mentioning,” Nie Huaisang says, not meeting either of their eyes, “but, um, yes, I have been copying some poetry, in my—in my spare time…”
“Your ‘spare time?’” Nie Mingjue interrupts. “You mean when you should be practicing your saber, or when you should be participating in night hunts?” Nie Huaisang deflates before their eyes. “Xichen, don’t waste your time humoring him about his trash hobbies. You’ll just encourage him.”
“My intent was to encourage him,” Lan Xichen says, seeing the way Nie Huaisang seems to be trying to melt through the floor after his brother’s remarks. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh?”
“Let me ask you this,” Nie Mingjue answers, “if Wangji did nothing all day except for skulk in his room reading poetry and painting, would you really sit back and allow it to happen? Hm?”
Lan Xichen inclines his head, conceding the point. “Apologies, Brother. Please forgive me for overstepping my bounds.”
They return to their meal, but Lan Xichen does not like the way that Nie Huaisang stays silent until he is done eating and how he quickly excuses himself when he’s done, slipping out of the room. Lan Xichen has half a mind to follow him and see what poem he’s transcribing, but he’s already imposing enough on Nie Mingjue’s hospitality.
Surprisingly, Nie Mingjue sighs. “He skipped drills three times this week. Three times! I don’t like to be harsh on him, but it’s the only way to make him realize this isn’t a game. I hope you realize how lucky you have it with Wangji.”
“Yes, Wangji’s work ethic is admirable,” Lan Xichen agrees. “But, if I may, I think Huaisang has his own talents. It might just take him a little more time to grow into them.” He feels oddly protective of Nie Huaisang, which is absurd when he knows that deep down Nie Mingjue treasures him and would never truly hurt him.
“Maybe you’re right,” Nie Mingjue says. “And maybe, if you were ever in charge of him, you’d see it my way.”
“Perhaps,” Lan Xichen allows with a smile.
The Sunshot Campaign rages on, but between battles, Lan Xichen has brief periods when he can retreat to the Cloud Recesses. These aren’t periods of rest, however—he’s busy with war meetings, strategic planning, sending and receiving missives, and figuring out how to feed his sect with the Cloud Recesses only half-rebuilt. But at least the killing stops, for a while.
And…well, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy seeing Nie Huaisang, who is sheltering in Cloud Recesses far away from the battlefield. Lan Xichen had seen how torn Nie Mingjue had been about leaving his brother to fend for himself in the Unclean Realm and had offered to house him until the battlefront had moved away from Qinghe, or until the end of the war, if necessary.
It’s pleasant, having Nie Huaisang waiting for him whenever he returns. Lan Xichen likes to think of him almost as a sweet younger brother—nothing at all like Lan Wangji, but inspiring a mostly similar warm and protective feeling.
“Xichen-ge!” Nie Huaisang shouts, waving from across the courtyard as Lan Xichen walks into view. Nearby disciples look startled to hear the raised voice, but Lan Xichen just smiles and waves back. After shouting, Nie Huaisang seems to remember the rules, and he keeps his pace slow as they approach each other.
“Sorry to shout, I was just excited to see you,” Nie Huaisang says as he draws closer to Lan Xichen, dipping into an enthusiastic salute.
So cute, Lan Xichen thinks as he returns the greeting.
He really should meet with the Lan elders right away to finalize their budget for the upcoming month, but he lets Nie Huaisang talk him into taking tea in his guest quarters first. “I want to show you something I’ve been working on,” he tells Lan Xichen with a shy smile, handing over an unbound stack of pages.
It’s a manuscript, selections of Lan poetry that Nie Huaisang has copied in beautiful script and embellished with paintings of Gusu scenery and wildlife.
“It’s not finished yet, but I wanted to show you while you were here,” he tells Lan Xichen.
“It’s lovely,” Lan Xichen says, a little impressed. He knows Nie Mingjue is constantly griping over how little Nie Huaisang works on his cultivation, but he has obviously been working hard at his other talents.
“The paintings are nothing compared to yours,” Nie Huaisang says modestly, “but it’s been good practice. Lan poetry is so calming and evocative. I don’t think most of the Nie disciples would know a good poem if it came up and bit them in the… um, in the face.”
That startles a chuckle out of Lan Xichen, who has been on the front lines for the past year and has heard enough filthy language in that time to turn his ears black. Nie Huaisang doesn’t need to pretend innocence around him, but it’s so endearing to see him try.
He whiles away another half hour chatting with Nie Huaisang about gentle, mindless topics—art, nature, the day-to-day of life in the Cloud Recesses—but just as Lan Xichen is beginning to feel the onus of war falling off his shoulders, a disciple finds him and reminds him that the clan elders are looking for him.
“We’ll talk more when I have time,” Lan Xichen promises as he stands to leave. “Thank you for showing me your paintings.”
“Thank you for looking,” Nie Huaisang says.
After the Sunshot Campaign is over, the world breathes a sigh of relief and cultivators all return to their homes.
Lan Xichen is one of the last to get back to the Cloud Recesses, and he’s sad to realize that he missed saying goodbye to Nie Huaisang before he’d set off to return to the Unclean Realm. There’s plenty to do though, and by the time he returns to his room on the first night back, his head is filled with plans for Gusu Lan’s future.
He’s so distracted that he almost doesn’t notice the book lying on his table until he’s dressed for bed. The binding is elegant but unfamiliar, probably from the library, and Lan Xichen puzzles over why he would have failed to return a book to its proper place the last time he was home. He picks it up and is even more puzzled to see that it doesn’t have a title. When he opens it to take a look, he realizes—it’s Nie Huaisang’s paintings and calligraphy, collected and bound so prettily that it could have been done by a professional.
Lan Xichen sinks onto his bed, slowly flicking through the pages. He’d only been able to get quick looks at them before, when Nie Huaisang had showed him, but n0w he is free to admire the care that has been poured into every character, every branch and feather. There are techniques that he can see Nie Huaisang hasn’t yet mastered, but as an artist himself, Lan Xichen is impressed at his progress. He reads the poems, too, pleased to see that some of his favorites have made it in, as well as some that he is familiar with but hadn’t properly appreciated until he sees them here in new context.
Lan Xichen doesn’t notice what time it is until he is physically struggling to keep his eyes open. Reluctantly, he places the book back on the table, blows out the candle, and slips into bed. He drifts off, idly imagining Nie Huaisang’s delicate fingers guiding his brushstrokes.
“Why is being a sect leader so hard?” Nie Huaisang asks in his most pitiful voice.
Lan Xichen looks like he’s barely suppressing a sigh, but he smiles as readily as always. “I can’t deny it’s a heavy burden, but you will get better at it with time.” It’s almost heartbreakingly optimistic of him—Nie Huaisang has done his best to keep from getting any better at it for the past nine years.
Nie Huaisang pours tea for Lan Xichen and wine for himself as Lan Xichen pulls a towering stack of field reports closer to him. It really does give Nie Huaisang a headache to look at the stack, and he really is grateful that Lan Xichen still comes to help him after all this time. He settles down next to Lan Xichen under the pretense of getting close enough to see the reports, sipping at his wine as his thigh brushes up against Lan Xichen’s.
They go over the reports together, checking and double-checking costs, locations, collected fees, and all the other mind-numbing minutiae associated with night hunt reports. Normally Nie Huaisang could and would pass this kind of task off onto a high-ranking disciple, but due to a scheduling mistake (his own), all of his qualified disciples are on night hunts or lookout tower duty.
It takes hours, but thanks to Lan Xichen’s careful eye for detail they’re able to finish up before the sky begins to darken.
“I don’t know what I would do without you, I really don’t,” Nie Huaisang half-sobs as he collapses onto Lan Xichen’s shoulder. Lan Xichen’s arms come up automatically to support him, probably afraid that he’ll tip them both over onto the floor. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“I’m always happy to help,” Lan Xichen says serenely, and Nie Huaisang is glad he can’t see Lan Xichen’s expression. He knows just how exasperating his act is getting, but seeing Lan Xichen’s disapproval is always the hardest part.
It has to be this way, Nie Huaisang tells himself.
It’s the plan: play up the useless, innocent little brother angle, make Jin Guangyao think he’s harmless and weak. There are so many times when his reputation as a clueless idiot has gotten Jin Guangyao let down his guard, and so many secrets that Nie Huaisang only got access to because no one thought to guard against him. It’s working so far, though Nie Huaisang is terrified that his cover could be blown any day. Regrettably, to sell the whole thing, he has had to ruin his reputation with Lan Xichen too—those two are so close, so deep within each other’s confidence, that any slip-ups are sure to be rooted out. Nie Huaisang wishes—yearns, deeply, every day—that he could just tell Lan Xichen about Jin Guangyao’s treachery, about all the lies and murders, and that Lan Xichen would believe him. But he knows it’s impossible. He’d listened to his brother argue with Lan Xichen about Jin Guangyao’s moral character before, and knew that if the Red Blade Master hadn’t been able to convince him, there’s no way his weak, good-for-nothing little brother would do any better.
Even so…
Lan Xichen’s hand moves to stroke Nie Huaisang’s hair, and Nie Huaisang has to stifle the sigh that rises in him. Even if he has to act like a foolish little brother, there are certain benefits. Lan Xichen visits him often to advise him in his duties as sect leader, and is free with his idle caresses whenever Nie Huaisang throws himself into his arms, like now. It’s nothing more than familial intimacy, but Nie Huaisang doesn’t stop himself from imagining it to be something more. If Lan Xichen will only ever think about him as a brother—and Nie Huaisang has resigned himself to this, a thousand times over—then this will be the closest he ever gets.
He may as well make the most of it, he thinks, tightening his grip on Lan Xichen’s sleeves.
“You remember Mo Xuanyu, Er-ge?” Jin Guangyao asks.
Lan Xichen looks over at his friend as the two of them stroll down a secluded path in the Golden Carp Tower’s gardens. He has to wrack his brain for a second, but he soon recalls the whole unfortunate incident from years ago and he grimaces. “Yes, I remember,” he answers. “Why, did something happen?”
“No, nothing really. I was just reminiscing,” Jin Guangyao reassures.
“A strange thing to reminisce about,” Lan Xichen says. Jin Guangyao hums in agreement but doesn’t elaborate. They walk in silence for a few moments before Lan Xichen can’t help speaking up again. “But now that you bring it up, I wish you had reached out to me at that time. If I had known sooner, maybe I could have done something to prevent… to prevent such a thing from happening to you.”
Jin Guangyao pats his arm reassuringly and smiles. “Please don’t worry about something like that, Er-ge. I would never want to bother you with such an inelegant problem. Though I very much appreciate the sentiment.”
Lan Xichen smiles in return, and they return to comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the early fall sunshine.
“Actually, Er-ge, to be honest…” Jin Guangyao starts, then hesitates.
“What is it?” Lan Xichen prompts. “Whatever it is, I’ll do anything in my power to aid you.”
“It’s nothing to do with me. In fact, it’s…information that concerns you,” Jin Guangyao says. Lan Xichen waits for him to continue, curious to know what information about him that could have Jin Guangyao so hesitant. “Er-ge, the last thing I want is to hurt you. I’m only telling you this because I don’t feel I can stay silent about it anymore. I think you have a right to know, so that you can choose how to move forward.”
“Please tell me,” Lan Xichen says, bursting with suspense.
Jin Guangyao looks around the garden as if to check for eavesdroppers. “Well… it’s about our young brother Huaisang. He… I found out some time ago that he harbors feelings towards you that are… similar to those that Mo Xuanyu expressed for me.”
Lan Xichen’s eyes go wide, and he stops in his tracks.
“Are you sure of this?” he hears himself ask.
“Yes,” Jin Guangyao says solemnly. “I never told you in order to preserve the peace between the three of us, but I have known for several years. He’s never shown signs of acting on his…desires, but…I felt you should know. Just in case.”
Lan Xichen almost can’t believe it, but why would Jin Guangyao lie to him? That Nie Huaisang—his helpless, gentle young friend—has been hiding something like this… If it wasn’t Jin Guangyao telling him, he wouldn’t believe it at all.
“…Thank you for telling me,” Lan Xichen manages to say.
“You understand why I kept this from you, right, Er-ge?” Jin Guangyao asks, concerned.
“Of course. It’s a sensitive topic,” Lan Xichen reassures him. He smiles faintly, but his mind feels like it’s a million miles away. Jin Guangyao had drawn the distasteful comparison to Mo Xuanyu, but Lan Xichen can’t help when instead his thoughts flash to Lan Wangji, and all those years he’d borne his feelings in silence. Distaste is the last thing on Lan Xichen’s mind.
“Will you be all right?” Jin Guangyao asks. “If you want, we can—"
“Your concern is valuable, but if you don’t mind, let’s not speak of this anymore,” Lan Xichen pleads.
“As you wish,” Jin Guangyao says, and they return to their walk, discussing nothing more serious than the weather.
Lan Xichen returns to the Cloud Recesses the next day, and once he is ensconced in the familiar walls of the Hanshi, he finally allows himself to turn over his thoughts.
This isn’t the first time that he’s found out that he is the object of someone else’s affections, but he has never felt quite so caught off guard. He’s known Nie Huaisang for years. They’re close—they’ve grieved together, laughed together, spent hours working to solve Nie Huaisang’s problems together. If Lan Xichen has to be honest, he does wish Nie Huaisang could gain enough confidence to stand on his own as a sect leader, but he’s never hesitated to lend a hand when he can. How can he blame Nie Huaisang for needing some help? The Qinghe Nie Sect is particularly difficult to manage due to their tempers, and Nie Huaisang has no one else he can turn to other than Nie Mingjue’s sworn brothers. Even beyond that, Lan Xichen has always thought of Nie Huaisang as important to him. Someone worth his time and energy.
Lan Xichen walks to his bookshelf and runs his hand over the spines of the books he keeps in the Hanshi. There aren’t a lot of books in his personal collection, as the Gusu Lan library is famously well-curated, but he keeps copies of a few of his favorite volumes close at hand. And of course, that includes…his fingers stop on the spine of a plain but elegant book, and he pulls it out.
It’s been over 15 years since the Sunshot Campaign. Nie Huaisang’s talent in art and calligraphy has only grown in the years since—Lan Xichen knows this because he’s seen the improvements himself. But this book is special. It’s nostalgic, bringing back memories of a time before Nie Mingjue had passed away, when Nie Huaisang had played in the Cloud Recesses with nothing of sect politics on his mind. Back then, he’d been…calmer, less prone to breakdowns. The burden of sect leadership has never gotten easier for him, despite that Lan Xichen has done his best to lighten that burden. He knows Nie Huaisang is smart and capable in his own way, and that he just needs some support until he figures it out for himself. He’s prepared to be that support no matter how long it takes.
But the idea that Nie Huaisang would feel romantically about him…it leaves Lan Xichen unsteady and breathless.
He flips open the book of poetry to look at the brushwork, softly touching the wings of a bird in flight. He’s never asked for another one of Nie Huaisang’s works, and Nie Huaisang hasn’t offered. This is the only piece of him that Lan Xichen has here in the Cloud Recesses.
Without thinking, he brings the page up to his face, inhaling the scent of paper and ink. If Lan Xichen closes his eyes, he can remember the most recent time he saw Nie Huaisang work on his calligraphy—posed carefully over the page, holding back his sleeve as he made his strokes, glancing over at Lan Xichen with a warm smile playing about his lips.
A rush of heat passes through Lan Xichen as he realizes he can recall the shape of those lips with perfect clarity.
He tries to steady himself, tries to shake it off and tell himself that Nie Huaisang has always just been like a brother to him, but he can’t lie to himself. Nie Mingjue had been right, all those years ago—Lan Xichen would never indulge Lan Wangji the way he indulges Nie Huaisang. It’s never been the same.
Images come to him unbidden, but not unwanted. He thinks of how it feels to hold Nie Huaisang, how good it is to have his uninhibited trust when he lets himself fall apart in Lan Xichen’s arms. He imagines what it would be like to steal him away from the Unclean Realm and all his duties, to bring him back to the Cloud Recesses and dote on him like he’s a treasured pet. He likes the idea of pulling Nie Huaisang into his lap, of scenting the cologne he wears, of pressing his mouth to Nie Huaisang’s throat and hearing the shaky little exhales he would make. The same ones he makes sometimes when he is very drunk and Lan Xichen strokes his hair. Lan Xichen feels a fresh pulse of heat as he realizes that if Jin Guangyao is right, maybe those sounds aren’t completely innocent.
He realizes he is trembling and he tries to take deep, calming breaths. What he needs is a long soak in the cold spring. After that…well, he can think about that later.
“It’s so nice of you to visit,” Nie Huaisang says, ushering Lan Xichen into his informal receiving room. “Such a nice surprise! I don’t remember the last time you came calling for me, instead of the other way around.” He laughs a little too loudly, and Lan Xichen feels ashamed. It’s true that he has lapsed in his efforts to stay in touch the past few years, letting Nie Huaisang come to him instead of extending his own hand.
“Did you need my help with something? I don’t know what use I can be, though,” Nie Huaisang says, laughing again, though this time Lan Xichen notices that he sounds tense, almost like the laughter is faked.
“I just wanted to talk, to catch up with an old friend,” Lan Xichen tells him. “It’s been too long since we had time to talk, just the two of us.” He’s not ready to reveal his true intentions yet. Though deception does not come naturally to him, he wants to test the waters without being forthright, just in case Jin Guangyao had been mistaken or misinformed. The last thing Lan Xichen wants is a misunderstanding to cause a rift between them, but he needs to know the truth about Nie Huaisang’s feelings.
“Ahaha, that’s very thoughtful of you,” Nie Huaisang responds. He’s fiddling with one of his fans, flicking it open and closed absentmindedly.
“Is that a new fan?” Lan Xichen prompts. Talking about his collections is one of Nie Huaisang’s favorite pastimes. Maybe the topic will calm him down.
“Oh this? I don’t recall, I really can’t recall when I got this one,” Nie Huaisang says. “You want to see it?” He holds out the folded fan, and Lan Xichen makes what he considers to be a bold move—he purposefully lets his fingers brush over Nie Huaisang’s wrist as he takes the fan. Nie Huaisang pulls his hand back without comment, or any indication that he’d noticed.
“It’s very pretty,” Lan Xichen says, opening and half-examining the fan. “Your taste is quite refined. This shade complements your coloration particularly nicely.”
This gets Nie Huaisang’s attention, and he really focuses on Lan Xichen for the first time since he had walked in. “I… well, thank you,” he stutters. “I didn’t think you had much of an interest in fans.”
“When you take such care to pick out such lovely pieces, I’d be a fool not to notice,” Lan Xichen says. “You always make such a pretty picture. I’ve always admired your style, and I feel like I’ve been remiss in not letting you know.” He’s dizzy with how bold he’s being. These kinds of sweet words sound so natural coming from Jin Guangyao, but from him, it feels like he’s baring his heart.
Nie Huaisang looks at him in astonishment. “Thank you, but it’s just a hobby. Be careful not to praise me too much, or I might get used to it.” He seems perhaps a little flustered.
Satisfied with the impact, Lan Xichen hands back the fan. Nie Huaisang accepts it, fluttering it slowly.
“If you have time, we could go for a walk around the mountains,” Lan Xichen suggests. “The birds aren’t done migrating. I’m sure we can see something rare.” When they get out of the Unclean Realm, when they’re strolling together on the trail with no one else around, that’s when he’ll ask about Nie Huaisang’s feelings.
“Oh! I…” Nie Huaisang starts, looking distressed. “I’m really sorry, that sounds wonderful, but I’m… I’m a little busy, I really should work on the budget for the next month….”
Lan Xichen doesn’t know what to say to that. Not once has he ever known Nie Huaisang to choose to do work instead of taking a chance to slip out to play. “I see,” he says. “I’m…I’m very proud of you for being so responsible. Would you like any help?”
“No, no, that’s OK,” Nie Huaisang says. “You showed me how to do it properly last time, I can do it myself now.”
Lan Xichen is shocked again. He’s helped Nie Huaisang with his budgets a dozen times over the years, and the last time they worked together, Nie Huaisang had been nearly crying in relief when it was over. Is Nie Huaisang…trying to get rid of him? Had Lan Xichen been coming on too strong? He can’t think of another explanation. Jin Guangyao must have been misinformed, after all. Disappointment washes through his newly minted feelings.
“I’m really sorry that you caught me at a bad time. Maybe next time we’re both free. I will see you at the cultivation conference in Lanling soon?” Nie Huaisang asks. It’s the exact kind of polite platitude that a sect leader should use when they want to let someone down easy. Lan Xichen should be proud of Nie Huaisang for using proper etiquette, but it feels like a blow instead.
“Of course.” Lan Xichen inclines his head and rises to his feet. “In the meantime, please reach out if you need my help for anything.”
Nie Huaisang gives him a small smile. “You know I always do.”
It’s months before Lan Xichen can even look at the envelope that Nie Huaisang had sent him. It’s almost a year before he feels steady enough to think of opening it.
He has been in and out of secluded meditation, selfishly forcing the Gusu Lan Sect to fend for itself again with no active sect leader as it had for years under his father. He knows the sect is in good hands with his uncle, but Lan Qiren’s age is beginning to catch up with him. The weight of Lan Xichen’s responsibility finally starts to outweigh his grief, and he decides it’s time to return to his position.
The last thing he has to confront is this: the letter from Nie Huaisang that he had received only days after Jin Guangyao’s death. He thinks he is ready now.
The anger has faded. At first, Lan Xichen had thought only of how he had been used, how Nie Huaisang had taken his trust and twisted it for his own purposes, and how his thirst for revenge had resulted in the death of the man Lan Xichen had been closest to in the world—a man who had already confessed his sins and was willing to spend the rest of his life repenting in exile. But that anger has not lasted. Nie Huaisang is not the only one who lied to him, who used him. And—though Lan Xichen has fought against this realization as long as he could—he knows that he shares some of the blame, because he failed Nie Huaisang after Nie Mingjue’s death. He had not been worthy of Nie Huaisang’s trust, and had not been there to help him bring Jin Guangyao to justice. How alone must Nie Huaisang have felt, Lan Xichen wonders, in those years as he uncovered Jin Guangyao’s crimes one by one? If Lan Xichen had been less blind, less naïve, if Nie Huaisang had felt safe enough to reach out to him in his time of need….
Lan Xichen had been so close to both men, yet had known nothing of them. And now he finally feels that he’s ready to know Nie Huaisang, ready for his words. He doesn’t know if his letter will be a confession or a condemnation or a plea of innocence, but Lan Xichen is ready find out and to forgive. Despite everything, it’s all Lan Xichen knows how to do.
He opens the envelope carefully, unfolding it to reveal a few rows of script in Nie Huaisang’s beautiful hand.
To Sect Leader Zewu-Jun,
I don’t want to trouble you; I have troubled you enough already. Whatever you choose moving forward, I will respect it. If you want to speak with me, I will be there to speak. If you wish to never see or hear from me again, simply stay silent, and I will follow your lead and leave you in peace.
I sincerely wish for your happiness and good fortune.
Respectfully,
Nie Huaisang
Lan Xichen flips the paper over, looking for more, but that’s the message in its entirety. He sits back, clutching the letter with all his leftover tension from such an anticlimax. None of the answers he had been looking for had been answered. Well, that’s not entirely true— he’s gained one simple, inevitable piece of knowledge.
He has to see Nie Huaisang again.
When Lan Xichen sends a letter to the Unclean Realm requesting Sect Leader Nie Huaisang’s presence in the Cloud Recesses at his earliest convenience, he doesn’t even get a return letter before Nie Huaisang arrives.
Lan Xichen waits for him in the Hanshi. He thinks he is emotionally prepared for this, but when Nie Huaisang appears in his doorway, just as delicate and vulnerable-looking as he’s always been, Lan Xichen has to steady himself. He has thought of Nie Huaisang almost every day for the past year, but it’s nothing compared to seeing him again in person. Now that his anger has passed, he realizes how deeply he missed him.
“You came,” he says.
Nie Huaisang falters, and doesn’t quite meet Lan Xichen’s eyes. “Of course, Sect Leader.” He’s quiet and subdued, reminding Lan Xichen of how he had acted in the months following Nie Mingjue’s death. He sits across from Lan Xichen. He’s holding neither saber nor fan, and his hands are still. Now that he is closer, Lan Xichen can see that he is not totally unchanged from a year ago—he still looks youthful, but his eyes are more tired and drawn, with dark circles gathering beneath them. “What can I do for you?” Nie Huaisang asks, summoning the ghost of a smile.
That’s a good question, Lan Xichen realizes. Now that Nie Huaisang is here, he’s not sure what he wants to say, just that he wants to bridge this gap between them and close this painful chapter. “I’m not sure,” he admits.
“Then…if you will listen, there’s something I’d like to say to you,” Nie Huaisang says.
“Please, go ahead.”
“I just wanted to clear one thing up… about what happened that night,” Nie Huaisang begins, and when Lan Xichen doesn’t stop him, he continues. “I don’t have any proof, and I wouldn’t blame you for not being able to believe me, but I…I’m done lying to you. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. And if— if you’re not satisfied, if you change your mind about letting me back into your life, I’ll leave. But I need you to know….” He looks Lan Xichen in the eye. “I never planned for you to be involved. Especially not like that. I know the gap between intent and action is wide, but…” he falters, takes a deep breath, and continues. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but you deserve my apology. So… I’m sorry.” He bends at the waist, bowing as deeply as he can while seated.
“I owe you an apology as well,” Lan Xichen tells him, and Nie Huaisang’s eyes go wide. “I was blind to the truth, and unworthy of your trust. I made you go through it all alone. For that, I’m deeply sorry.” He bows back.
“Please don’t,” Nie Huaisang says. When Lan Xichen raises his head, Nie Huaisang has closed his eyes and turned away, as if he can’t bear to witness Lan Xichen’s apology. Lan Xichen’s breath catches at how Nie Huaisang looks—beautiful and fragile, his long, inky lashes resting against skin as pale and delicate as paper. “I never blamed you for your faith in him. For your kindness. It’s something I always admired about you.”
“Can we set aside the past?” Lan Xichen asks. His voice is strange, and he swallows to try and clear it.
Nie Huaisang opens his eyes and turns back to Lan Xichen. All Lan Xichen can see is the elegance of his eyes, the shape of his jaw, the smooth slope of his nose. He has a hint of Nie Mingjue’s features, but they’re softened, pretty rather than handsome.
“I don’t know,” Nie Huaisang replies. “I don’t think that’s up to me.”
“Then if it’s up to me, I would like to leave it behind,” Lan Xichen tells him. “Let’s move forward with clean slates.”
When Nie Huaisang hesitates, Lan Xichen reaches out both of his hands across the narrow table. Nie Huaisang takes them, and Lan Xichen squeezes his fingers softly. He feels Nie Huaisang tremble, but he doesn’t pull away—he sighs, deeply, like an immeasurable burden has been lifted from him.
Lan Xichen feels like he’s getting a glimpse of the real Nie Huaisang, someone mature and capable. He should be more surprised, after witnessing all those years of his fumbling attempts at sect leadership, but Lan Xichen feels like everything is slotting into place. He’s always believed that Nie Huaisang had hidden potential, and that one day he’d blossom. He wishes it could have been under different circumstances, but one was never able to choose the course of one’s life, let alone another’s. “If you want, we can go back to the way it was before,” Lan Xichen offers. “Though… I get the feeling that you won’t need to rely on me as much anymore. You managed without me for a year, after all.”
Nie Huaisang huffs out a laugh. “I wish I could say I was sorry for relying on you like that, but more often than not I really did need your help. And it was the only way this good-for-nothing could get you to visit. Except that time last fall, before… everything.”
“You remember that?” Lan Xichen asks, embarrassed. He recalls the visit with perfect clarity, how none of it had gone to plan and his fledgling hopes had been dashed. Just another way Jin Guangyao had hurt him, he supposes, though perhaps not intentionally. He’s wondered about that more than once in the past year. Had Jin Guangyao just been misinformed, or had he been lying like he had about so many other things?
“Of course I remember,” Nie Huaisang says. He looks surprised that Lan Xichen would think otherwise. “I was so happy that you would come to visit me, and you were…you were being so nice. But it was right before I started putting everything in motion, and I couldn’t let you know.” He pauses, searching Lan Xichen’s face as if waiting for him to get angry. But Lan Xichen knows what he has done, and has decided to forgive, and Nie Huaisang is saying something far more important than another acknowledgement of his hand in Jin Guangyao’s fate. He feels dizzy from the implication that Nie Huaisang hadn’t been trying to get rid of him because Lan Xichen had made him uncomfortable, and that he had instead been occupied with something completely different. Nie Huaisang continues. “I’m sorry for being so rude to you that day. If you want, maybe we can still reschedule…?”
Lan Xichen breaks into a smile. “Yes, of course. As soon as we’re both free, of course I’ll come visit you.”
Nie Huaisang’s return smile is sweet and slow. Their hands are still clasped together, and Lan Xichen allows him to gently maneuver them so that their fingers are laced together. It’s achingly, unbearably intimate, and Lan Xichen is so distracted that he almost misses Nie Huaisang’s fond little smile, and his barely-audible whisper.
“Thank you.”
For completely selfish reasons, Lan Xichen wishes and wishes that Jin Guangyao had been telling the truth about this one last thing.
Nie Huaisang expects that it will be a long time until Lan Xichen has time to spare for a personal trip to the Unclean Realm. After all, he has only just left seclusion officially, and the cultivation world has gone through significant changes in the last year, so he will have plenty of work to keep him busy. To be honest, Nie Huaisang really expects that Lan Xichen will either forget about their plan, or that he will reconsider the invitation and quietly conserve his own free time for himself instead of wasting it on Nie Huaisang. Their emotions had been running high when they had reconciled, and Lan Xichen would be perfectly within his rights to reconsider any of his statements from that day. Though the idea makes Nie Huaisang bitter, he comforts himself with the knowledge that they will at least see each other at discussion conferences and other official events throughout the year. He won’t be able to throw himself into Lan Xichen’s arms the way he used to, now that Lan Xichen knows his indiscretion had been an act, but it’s still better to see him from a distance than not at all.
What Nie Huaisang does not expect is to receive a letter from Lan Xichen within the month, asking permission to visit.
He’s so shocked that he sends his reply immediately, and only after the message has left on its way to Gusu does Nie Huaisang think to second-guess the situation. Isn’t this too fast? Even if Lan Xichen had claimed that everything was in the past, was he really so forgiving that he would indulge in time spent idling with Qinghe Nie Sect’s good-for-nothing leader? But Nie Huaisang knows the answer to that—of course he’s that forgiving. It’s Lan Xichen. He’s remarkable for many things, and his big heart has always been one of them. Just one of the many reasons that people flock to him— people like Nie Huaisang, who do nothing but abuse that kindness.
It’s late in the season when Lan Xichen arrives, but the weather is unseasonably warm and the sky is a deep, clear blue. Lan Xichen, in his pristine white robes, looks like a fragment of cloud that has descended from the heavens to grace the rugged ground of the Unclean Realm.
Nie Huaisang’s heart aches just to look at him.
They exchange greetings and take some light refreshment before Lan Xichen suggests that they take advantage of the fine weather.
“Aren’t you tired from your journey?” Nie Huaisang asks, unsure if Lan Xichen is pushing himself after spending so long in seclusion.
“We don’t have to go for a long walk,” Lan Xichen reassures him. “The clear air in Qinghe is a welcome change from Gusu’s humidity, and I seem to recall that I suggested we could look for birds the last time I came. It would be a shame to miss the opportunity while the weather is so nice.”
Nie Huaisang relents, despite it being the wrong time of day for birdwatching, and the two of them set off on an easy trail not too far from the Unclean Realm. Truth be told, he hasn’t made time to go looking for birds much this year. All of his usual hobbies just haven’t been appealing lately. But now that Lan Xichen is here just to spend time with him, the world feels like it’s been thrown into sharper focus. Nie Huaisang even feels the itch to pick up his paintbrush again when he notices a particularly stunning cliffside. His eyes don’t linger on the scenery, however. He tries not to stare at Lan Xichen, but it’s been so long since they have spent time together, and now that Nie Huaisang doesn’t have to focus on his plans for revenge, there are much nicer things he can think about in his idle moments. Like the gleam of sunlight in Lan Xichen’s dark hair, or the beauty of his face in profile, or the way he smiles at Nie Huaisang whenever he looks over and they make eye contact.
Nie Huaisang returns the smiles as naturally as possible, forcing himself not to look guilty at having been caught staring, but inside he is screaming at himself to stop making his infatuation so obvious. If Nie Huaisang ends up scaring him off now, after everything…he doesn’t know if he will be able to handle it.
They reach an overlook above a rocky gorge. Nie Huaisang is familiar with the spot—there’s a wide, flat boulder resting in the shade of a tree near the path, and the view is stunning, so he’s spent many summer afternoons painting here.
“Should we take a rest?” Nie Huaisang asks. They haven’t gone all that far, and Lan Xichen doesn’t seem too tired, but he’d rather play it safe.
“I was just about to ask the same thing,” Lan Xichen says, and they sit on the boulder together. The day is warm enough that the shade from the tree is welcome, and they spend a few minutes listening to the calls of nearby birds. It’s full daylight and fall migration is almost over, so they don’t hear anything particularly rare or interesting, but it’s pleasant to listen together and to share what they hear.
There’s a lull where they fall into a comfortable silence, and Lan Xichen speaks.
“I want to ask you something,” he says.
“Yes?”
“About something Jin Guangyao said once.”
Oh.
“Of course,” Nie Huaisang replies. He owes Lan Xichen every conversation he ever wants to have about Jin Guangyao.
“He lied to everyone; I know that. But he also said… he never tried to hurt me,” Lan Xichen says.
“Yes, I remember,” Nie Huaisang says solemnly.
“He told me something once, and I never found out if it was truth or a lie. You’re the only one who would know,” Lan Xichen explains, “but it’s a bit of a delicate topic.”
“Ask me anything you want,” Nie Huaisang says, turning to face Lan Xichen fully, and summoning up enough courage to take his hand. “Xichen-ge, I swear on my brother’s memory. If I know the answer, I will tell you the truth.”
Lan Xichen squeezes his hand and rubs a thumb over his knuckles. “Thank you.” He takes a moment, appearing to ground himself. “Jin Guangyao told me—and please don’t take offense to this, if it’s not true—he told me that you might be interested in romantic relationships with male partners.”
It’s the very last thing Nie Huaisang ever expects to hear come out of Lan Xichen’s mouth.
He’s stunned into silence as his mind works overtime, trying to calculate exactly what Jin Guangyao had told Lan Xichen and how he should answer. He knows Jin Guangyao had guessed about his feelings for Lan Xichen forever ago, even before Nie Mingjue’s death, and even though Nie Huaisang had never directly confirmed those suspicions, he hadn’t tried to change Jin Guangyao’s mind either. Before, Nie Huaisang had trusted him with the secret, and after, he’d thought that it would just add to his image as a silly, frivolous boy—Jin Guangyao’s opinion of cutsleeves had never been high. Apparently somewhere along the way, he must have told Lan Xichen. But how much?
May da-ge’s blade torment you forever, you piece of dog shit, Nie Huaisang curses internally.
He realizes he’s been gaping like a fish at Lan Xichen and snaps his mouth shut. “Oh, that?” he says with a laugh, though it’s far too late to be as casual-sounding as he wants. “I mean, I’ve considered it. One could say I’ve found myself interested, once or twice. But you should know that I have an eye for women as well, of course.” It’s not really a lie. He used to look at women, and other men, but it’s been years since he’d really desired a partner other than Lan Xichen. He wonders if Lan Xichen can feel his heart racing through the touch of his hand. Why had Nie Huaisang been so keen to take his hand like that? He can’t let go for fear of making it even more awkward, but the contact is almost unbearable now. To top it off, he can feel the bright heat of blush rising in his face.
At least Lan Xichen doesn’t look upset, even if Nie Huaisang can’t really figure out what expression he’s making.
“Thank you for your honesty,” Lan Xichen says gently. “I have one more question, if you’ll answer it.”
Nie Huaisang knows what’s coming. His lungs don’t seem to be working right. “Of course,” he answers, his voice weak and gasping.
“Have you ever had feelings for me?”
Even expecting it, Nie Huaisang isn’t prepared. A wave of sensation washes over him, like he’s been thrown into water that’s both too hot and too cold. He turns away. He can’t look at Lan Xichen anymore.
“Hh-haha, that’s, that’s not a fair question,” Nie Huaisang stammers. “Doesn’t everyone? Wouldn’t—wouldn’t anyone be enchanted by Zewu-Jun? You should know this.”
“A-Sang,” Lan Xichen says, and Nie Huaisang feels a gentle hand on his chin, turning him back to meet his gaze. “A-Sang, I feel the same way.”
…What? No, impossible.
“How is that….” Nie Huaisang shakes his head. No, he can’t accept this, he can’t let Lan Xichen be taken in by a monster again. Even if—especially if the monster is him. “Shouldn’t you resent me? Shouldn’t you hate me, after what I did?”
“We talked about that, I—”
“I’m not good enough for you,” Nie Huaisang blurts out. “I never have been, but especially now, after what I made you do, after I tricked you to into killing your sworn brother.” He can feel Lan Xichen’s fingers tremble.
“Nie Huaisang!” Lan Xichen scolds, and Nie Huaisang falls silent. His thumb brushes over Nie Huaisang’s jaw as if in apology for his tone. “You haven’t been listening,” he says in a steadier voice. “I said we can forget the past, so why won’t you forget it? I said I return your feelings, so why can’t you accept them?”
“I don’t know,” Nie Huaisang whispers automatically, “I don’t know, I—”
Lan Xichen’s thumb presses against his lips, stopping his protests. “Let go,” Lan Xichen says. “We’ve both suffered enough.”
Nie Huaisang is on fire. If he burns any more, he’s sure he will crumble into ash.
He lets Lan Xichen tilt his face up, lets him lean forward until their foreheads touch. He can feel the silky fabric of the Gusu Lan forehead ribbon against his skin. That, more than anything, is what grounds him, and what breaks down his last defense.
“Kiss me,” Nie Huaisang says, and Lan Xichen does.
It starts off chaste. Lan Xichen’s kiss is just as earnest and naive as he is, almost uncoordinated—and Nie Huaisang realizes with a shock of heat that Lan Xichen hasn't done this before. Zewu-Jun, the illustrious First Jade of Gusu Lan and darling of the cultivation world, has saved his first kiss for his whole life, and is now giving it to him.
A whine rises in Nie Huaisang's throat and Lan Xichen starts to pull away, maybe to ask what's wrong, but Nie Huaisang can't stop himself from chasing and recapturing his lips. This time he tilts his head, leading Lan Xichen into a better angle and giving him a non-verbal lesson in kissing form. No one has ever called Lan Xichen a slow learner, and he picks it up like it's breathing, like it’s something he was born to do. Soon, he's kissing like he’s drinking something he never knew he was thirsty for, and Nie Huaisang surrenders to it completely.
When they break apart for air, Nie Huaisang is dizzy, and he instinctively leans against Lan Xichen for support, just like he used to when he’d been pretending at helplessness. This part had never been an act, though. And instead of the fond but proper pats he is used to receiving, this time he finds himself fully wrapped in an embrace, cocooned in Lan Xichen’s long sleeves.
“How long have you wanted to do that?” Lan Xichen asks.
“Don’t tease,” Nie Huaisang answers. He doesn’t think his cheeks will ever cool off, and he presses his face into Lan Xichen’s shoulder.
“I’m not teasing,” Lan Xichen says. “I’m curious, I want to know.” He curls closer, resting his chin on Nie Huaisang’s head and stroking his hair.
Nie Huaisang sighs, half from bliss at being held like this after so long, and half from being asked to confess just how long. “I wasn’t lying earlier, Zewu-Jun. You know how many admirers you’ve collected along the way. I just happened to be one of them.” He’s deflecting and he knows it, but how is he supposed to admit that he’s been in love since they were both teenagers? He’d promised not to lie to Lan Xichen anymore, but he’d never promised to lay his soul bare like this.
In response, Lan Xichen lifts his chin and kisses him again, slow and exploratory like he’s trying to find the answer with his lips.
“You don’t have to tell me if you’re really that uncomfortable,” Lan Xichen whispers when they pull apart again. “But I wish I had known earlier. Maybe then I could have been there for you when….” He trails off, his eyes going distant.
Nie Huaisang grabs his hand and squeezes it. “Hey, hey, didn’t you just say to forget the past?” he says. He brings the hand to his mouth and leaves a soft kiss on his knuckles. Lan Xichen returns to himself, and Nie Huaisang smiles at him. “More importantly, I have my own embarrassing question for you. Just how many people have you kissed before today, Zewu-Jun?”
Lan Xichen looks surprised. “No one, of course,” he says.
Nie Huaisang’s heart skips a beat to have his suspicions confirmed—he’d really gotten Lan Xichen’s first kiss. “What do you mean, ‘of course?’ You’re ranked number one for looks among unmarried cultivators. Surely you’ve had people throwing themselves at you your whole life,” he teases.
“You should know the Gusu Lan Sect rules by now,” Lan Xichen says. “We don’t engage in casual physical relationships.”
“Oh,” Nie Huaisang says in a small voice. He realizes now, fully, that he’s not the first one to make his feelings known to Lan Xichen, but he’s the first and only one to have his feelings reciprocated. The thought lights him up from the inside until he feels like he could laugh, or cry, or float away like a paper lantern.
“You weren’t…expecting something casual, were you?” Lan Xichen asks haltingly, like it’s the first time he’s thinking of the question.
That startles a laugh out of Nie Huaisang before he can think better of it. “No, I wasn’t,” he says. “But I really wasn’t expecting anything at all. I just want everything you’re willing to give me.” It’s too honest, too open, and he falls silent again.
Lan Xichen seems to like his answer, though, because he leans down again for another long kiss.
“Should we get moving?” Nie Huaisang asks when they part. “I think there are more comfortable places we could be doing this.”
“I’m sure there are, but I think this might be my favorite place now,” Lan Xichen says as he stands, helping Nie Huaisang to his feet. “It’s where I had my first kiss, after all.”
“You’ll just have to come back and visit it often, then,” Nie Huaisang says.
“I suppose I will.” Lan Xichen takes his hand, and they set off down the path together.