An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Characters: Essek Thelyss, Caleb Widogast
Additional Tags: First Kiss, Aeor (Critical Role), Post-Finale, Spoilers, c2ep141 spoilers
Summary:
They stand, silent, for many more moments. Essek finds the only remaining interest he has in time manipulation at this moment is the desire to stop it.
What if they kissed in the ruins of the temporal dock?
Summary: Wen Qing moves to Yunmeng to be closer to her brother. She never expected her ugly suitcase to bring someone like Jiang Yanli to her life. A series in connections, family, and the love that binds them. (Yanqing, Nielan, Wangxian, Sangcheng, maybe others?)
Day 1 , Day 2 , Day 3 , Day 4 , Day 5, Day 6
7. Wen Qing - hazy | morning | dreamy
The only time Wen Qing can find to meet up with Jiang Yanli within her new work schedule is an early Saturday morning. The sky is a dreary gray, clouds passing through quickly, a misty haze hanging low through the streets and clinging in wisps to the surface of water through the canals. The cool sting of the wind is sharp enough that she had opted for her leather jacket and wool scarf heading out the door.
It’s not quite as cold sitting by the heaters on the second floor of the café, even with the open window looking out over the park across the street. Jiang Yanli has even pushed up the arms of her sweater, a dark navy and white striped turtleneck that curls gently around the soft curve of her jaw. Sometimes the fabric slouches to one side and exposes a flash of her bare neck that Wen Qing finds hard to look away from. Every time she laughs, a warm, breathless feeling spreads in Wen Qing’s chest.
Jiang Yanli looks like she should be on the pages of a magazine, not sharing a pot of tea with a sleep-deprived doctor in ratty jeans and scuffed boots.
Yet there she’d been, waiting outside the subway exit in the cold just to make sure Wen Qing wouldn’t get lost. Here she is now, gifting stories and laughter in a cramped little two-story café. It’s not high class, but it is charming, with dim lighting and wide wicker chairs. The walls are covered in writing, scribbles running into and over each other, a chaotic pattern of wishes and memories recorded between old photographs and amateur artwork.
Wen Qing loves it.
“When my father brought me here after hospital appointments, I used to beg to sit outside under it,” Jiang Yanli says, continuing a story about the large tree standing outside the café, pavement crumbling and cracking around its roots. Its lowest branches hang down just enough to obscure the hand-painted sight at the entrance, and it stretches high enough to cover part of the second-floor window. For all that the buildings on the street must block the sun, the lonely tree’s foliage is just as vibrant as that of the trees in the park. “I was convinced it was a magical tree. It’s a stubborn thing, isn’t it? Growing all alone like that surrounded by concrete. I thought touching it might give me a little bit of that strength.”
Wen Qing looks over at the tree and finds herself thinking of Wen Ning. Of finding him collapsed, eyes so far away she couldn’t imagine him ever coming back. Of his happy greeting and gentle teasing as she left the apartment this morning, already up and preparing breakfast, humming along to the radio.
“Maybe it’s a Yunmeng thing,” she says, turning back to Jiang Yanli. “Something in the water. Resilience is a trait you all share.”
Jiang Yanli’s lips part in a pleased expression of surprise, the berry-red shade of her lips drawing Wen Qing’s attention before she can stop herself. Her hand reaches across the tabletop to cover Wen Qing’s wrist. Wen Qing takes in a shaky breath at the soft slide of her fingertips. She’s thought about Jiang Yanli’s hands every night since their fleeting touch at the airport. If she turned her hand over, she could feel those fingers against her palm, maybe curl her own until they were properly holding hands. She doesn’t move, but the possibility lingers. Their eyes meet.
Don’t look away, Wen Qing thinks, even as the loud buzzing of her phone breaks the moment.
It’s the hospital calling her in, of course. Jiang Yanli had suggested this place specifically because she knew Wen Qing was on-call and might need to be in close proximity. The hospital is only a few blocks away, close enough that she can even see the large lake in the middle of the park across the street from the cardiology break room.
She looks up from her phone, apology on her lips, but Jiang Yanli only shakes her head with that gentle smile of hers.
“No, don’t worry about it. Thank you for spending time with me today,” she says, tidying the table. “I’d love to meet again when you have time.”
It’s hard to believe the words, even looking at Jiang Yanli’s sweetly earnest face. Wen Qing has never had an easy time connecting with others, but Jiang Yanli makes everything feel so easy. Natural. As if it’s a given that she would want to see Wen Qing again, that working around Wen Qing’s schedule is just a part of life and not the inconvenience it has always been before. It feels like a dream — something she gets to keep for a while before waking up to a harsh reality. She doesn’t want to know what it’s like to lose this.
Wei Wuxian is always yelling at her to be less cynical. Maybe it’s time she takes his advice.
“Of course,” Wen Qing says, and before she can overthink the action, she grabs a marker from the jar on the table and finds an empty space on the wall, writes:
Wen Qing + Jiang Yanli
November, 2020
Embarrassment burns behind her eyes and over her cheeks, but Jiang Yanli’s giggles are worth the butterflies in her stomach. Jiang Yanli takes the marker from her and adds, underneath:
First date!
The smile doesn’t leave her face the entire walk to the hospital.
Summary: Wen Qing moves to Yunmeng to be closer to her brother. She never expected her ugly suitcase to bring someone like Jiang Yanli to her life. A series in connections, family, and the love that binds them. (Yanqing, Nielan, Wangxian, Sangcheng, maybe others?)
Day 1 , Day 2 , Day 3 , Day 4 , Day 5
6. Nie Mingjue - discipline | lie | lost
Every morning, Nie Mingjue runs through his forms with the rise of the sun. Huaisang would never believe it if he told him, but Nie Mingjue does not particularly enjoy waking early. More than one alarm clock has been unfairly damaged in his fight to become an early riser. Over time, however, he’s found that starting the day earlier allows him the time to collect his thoughts and gives him a sense of structure that helps him manage the day.
This morning, he finds his thoughts wandering away from him.
Focus, he reminds himself, concentrating on the stretch of his arms and the bend of his legs. Be one in body and soul.
Before his collapse at the last wushu competition, he would train until the intensity made his heart race and adrenaline pumped through his veins, which left no room in his head for stray thoughts or musings. Although kinder on his body than the Shaolin kung fu, Tai Chi takes more inward focus and awareness than he’s used to. He’s made a lot of progress in a year, but it will be a while yet before it comes naturally to him. Some days are harder than others.
December is an entire month away, but it could be tomorrow for as much as he feels fixated on it right now. He breathes in, tries to let the thoughts flow out of him on the exhale.
It’s just that Lan Xichen remains his biggest distraction. He aches for news of him. He knows he’s in Yunmeng with his little brother. He knows he works in a cardiac unit at one of the connected hospitals. It’s a big reason Nie Mingjue agreed to travel all the way to Yunmeng’s medical center instead of receiving care in Qinghe. But that’s where his knowledge ends.
Once upon a time, the things he knew about Lan Xichen could fill an encyclopedia. Now it feels like he couldn’t even write a page. He hopes it’s not true. There has to be more for them. What’s two years to a lifetime?
Once upon a time, he knew Lan Xichen would say yes. He has to believe they can get back to that.
Love without imposing your own will. He recites the words in his head with each careful step as he moves into another form. Let events take their course. Have without possessing. Lead without trying to control.
At the finish of his last form, he lets his muscles relax and focuses on his breathing, touches his fingers to his neck and checks his heart rate. It’s within his safe zone, so he moves into stretching out the tendons in his wrists and ankles right as Nie Huaisang bursts into their hotel suite with a mighty scowl and bags in both hands.
“The only reason I am up at this hour is because you’re dying. You better be grateful!” he gripes, holding out a bag.
Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes, taking it. “I’m not dying.” He peeks inside and frowns. “Congee? That’s it? Wait, what’s in yours?”
Nie Huaisang stuffs the remaining bags behind his back. “They’re fried, da-ge. You can’t eat them. It’s bad for your heart!”
Ah, it must be youtiao. Nie Mingjue narrows his eyes, assessing. Nie Huaisang stares back. He has his back to the tiny table connected to the wall in the open space next to the kitchenette. Approaching from either side leaves plenty of space for him to weasel away. A frontal assault then.
“Da-ge!” He shouts as Nie Mingjue lunges, backing into the table before he tries to scramble to the left into the room. Too late. Nie Mingjue maneuvers him into a headlock and plucks the bag from his fingers, crowing in victory. “You can’t eat it!” he protests, trying to twist out the hold.
“If I die, I will die over youtiao!” Nie Mingjue retorts. “Besides, my cholesterol is fine. It’s not that kind of problem. Stop trying to kill me off. And stop stealing all my food!” He lets go of his brother to unload their breakfast onto the table. A few of the youtiao have been squashed, but they’ll taste the same anyway.
“If they’re unhappy with your blood work next week, I’m going to say I told you so,” Nie Huaisang says, fixing his hair with a sigh before giving up to sit and eat.
Nie Mingjue ignores him. “Did you talk to Zhonghui?”
“Mm, we facetimed. He says your kids are all doing fine. He’ll call you after their grading today.” He laughs. “He’ll probably have videos for you, so watch out. Don’t spend all night reviewing their forms.”
“Relax. When are you going to stop nagging me? That’s my job.”
Nie Huaisang waves off his question. “Da-ge, there’s something else you should know.”
Nie Mingjue pauses, setting down his spoon. His brother doesn’t usually talk straight. Huaisang jokes around topics or presents them as gossip. Sometimes he drops little breadcrumbs of information into a conversation until the listener draws their own conclusions.
“Yesterday, while you were getting the ultrasound, I ran into Meng Yao.”
Nie Mingjue doesn’t have a blood pressure problem, but that name might give him one. “What’s he doing in Yunmeng?”
Nie Huaisang just looks at him. “What are we doing in Yunmeng?”
“Getting heart surgery, that’s what. I’m not sure that one even has a heart to operate on.” He stops. Sighs. “That was mean.”
Nie Huaisang shrugs. The battle lines were drawn two years ago and he’s never wavered in his support of Nie Mingjue. He’d been hurt by the lies as well. “I don’t care. Say worse. The only thing I got from him was that he’s working for his father now. He’s technically here on business. It’s not important. You and I both know he’s really here for Xichen-ge.”
“Huaisang, what’s the point of this? I don’t care what he does anymore.”
“Well, you probably should if you plan to talk to Xichen-ge again. Have you even called him to let him know we’re here? That you’re getting surgery?”
He hasn’t. For all that he believes they can fix things, picking up the phone seems an insurmountable task. He’s thought about it a million times, fingers hovering over numbers he knows by heart. He’d thought about it the night before his final competition. He’d thought about it every day in the hospital after. He’d thought about it before he went to bed last night and again this morning.
He could sooner count all the stars in the sky than stop loving Xichen. He’s just not sure anymore that it’s enough. That he’s enough.
“You don’t have to pour your heart out over one phone call, though I know that’s your style,” Huaisang continues. Nie Mingjue flicks a piece of napkin at him. “Start small. Even a text would work.”
“Small?” He could do small. Probably.
“Yeah, like — Hi. I have something to tell you.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Why am I having to teach you this? You’re not that old.”
“Brat.”
It really does sound simple coming from Huaisang. He picks up his phone from the table.
Summary: Wen Qing moves to Yunmeng to be closer to her brother. She never expected her ugly suitcase to bring someone like Jiang Yanli to her life. A series in connections, family, and the love that binds them. (Yanqing, Wangxian, Nielan, Sangcheng, maybe others?)
Day 1 , Day 2 , Day 3 , Day 4
5. Jiang Cheng - nest | frequent | nudge
“Get up and get out,” Jiang Cheng grumbles at the nest of blankets his bed has become in the twenty minutes of his shower. He nudges it with his foot. The nest whines back at him but doesn’t move. He kicks it a little harder. “Nie Huaisang!”
“Ugh, A-Cheng, you beast!!” Nie Huaisang shouts back at him, head popping out as he swats at the blankets. His hair puffs around his face in a staticky halo. Jiang Cheng could reach out a hand and brush it smooth, cup those pouting cheeks in his hands. He doesn’t.
“Don’t call me that,” he snaps.
Nie Huaisang rolls his eyes and falls back onto the pillows, hand dramatically laid over his chest. “So cruel! Fine, fine, Jiang-xiong. Is that better? What’s with you anyway?”
The blankets have fallen around his waist. Jiang Cheng glares. The purple marks dotting Nie Huaisang’s collar bones mock him, especially as Nie Huaisang’s fingers idly stroke at the skin just beneath them.
“I told you. Get out! I let you sleep long enough.” Jiang Cheng grabs the jeans near his ankle and throws them at Nie Huaisang, who barely catches them with exaggerated outrage. He makes a show of it, huffing and muttering, but he still pulls on the jeans and reaches over the bed for the rest of his clothing.
“You know,” Nie Huaisang says, shaking out the blankets for his socks, “We do this twice a month in Qinghe, and I’ve never kicked you out of bed before. Where’s the famed Yunmeng hospitality? Also, you’re the one who dragged me here!”
Jiang Cheng doesn’t reply, only watches him gather his things and try to tame his hair in the mirror. He keeps up a stream of complaints, all of which ring false, and finally makes for the door, where his expression drops into something more truthful that Jiang Cheng will not think about later.
“Jiang Cheng,” Nie Huaisang says softly, “I know you know I’m here for my brother’s sake, but you have to know that’s not all of it.”
Jiang Cheng’s jaw aches with how tightly he’s clenching it. “It’s none of my business. This isn’t going to happen again.”
Nie Huaisang laughs, sharp and disbelieving, sliding a hand up from Jiang Cheng’s navel to the back of his neck. The trailing touch raises the hair on Jiang Cheng’s arms. He should be pushing Nie Huaisang out the door, but his traitorous hands have already reached to clutch at Nie Huaisang’s hips instead, pulling him in close enough to kiss. They don’t. The next move of this game belongs to Nie Husaisang.
The smell of yesterday’s cologne still lingers faintly on his skin, and it makes Jiang Cheng’s head spin. It’s probably all over his sheets. There’s a shirt stuffed somewhere in his closet that had made its way back with him from one of his frequent business trips to Qinghe. The scent had faded after a few days, but the shame of pressing the garment to his face still burns in his chest.
The moment stretches between them. When Nie Huaisang finally leans in, he tilts his head just far enough to press his lips gently to Jiang Cheng’s cheek. He pulls away, hair falling like a shroud over his eyes.
“I won’t come here again, don’t worry. But you know you’re always welcome in Qinghe,” he says. “I can see myself out.”
He leaves.
The feeling gnawing at Jiang Cheng’s stomach since he woke up doesn’t abate. It eats at him a little more as he goes to strip the sheets, more as he loads the washing machine, and more as he picks up his phone to see two missed calls from A-Jie.
He wants to talk to her more than anything. He won’t. For the first time in his life, he finds he’s angry at her. He’s angry that she spoke up for Wei Wuxian to their mother four years ago. He’s angry that their mother forced the engagement to Jin Zixuan because of it, and she never protested. He’s angry that she suffered in silence in Lanling for so long and never reached out to him. He’s angry that he had to find out from their mother that she had broken the engagement last month and was no longer welcome in their home. He’s angry at her, he’s angry for her, and he knows he’s probably taking his anger at Wei Wuxian out on her as well.
He’s the only one left now. Wei Wuxian has always been free with himself, with whom he loves, with whom he leaves behind. Jiang Yanli had done her best to keep them together, but now she’s gone too.
She calls him every morning. Two calls. One, in case he answers. One, probably to let him know she won’t stop. No more, because she doesn’t want to be pushy.
He wishes she would push.
Who does he have now? Nie Huaisang? They fuck, they bicker, and they leave each other. That’s how it is. That’s how it has to be. Nothing more than the fading scent of cologne on a cold pillow case.
Summary: Wen Qing moves to Yunmeng to be closer to her brother. She never expected her ugly suitcase to bring someone like Jiang Yanli to her life. A series in connections, family, and the love that binds them.
Day 1 , Day 2 , Day 3
4. Lan Xichen - silk | gentle | insight
Lan Xichen can’t help but caress the blue silk of his scarf as he makes his way out of the hospital into the frigid night air. He really ought to replace it soon. It’s still in great condition — the pink and violet pansies bordering its edges stand out even in the dim light, and no strings fray from the ends. Even so, it doesn’t feel right to keep wearing a gift that only served as a reminder of the absence of its giver.
It’s been two years since he left Qinghe. Two years since he’s seen Mingjue. Two years since the fantasy of the life he’d thought he’d been building dissipated into thin air as if waking from a dream. By now they’ve been apart as long as they were together. It hits him every morning the closer it gets to the first of December. And so every morning he finds himself reaching for the scarf in its place next to a little black box, the only other memento he allows himself to keep.
Next week, he thinks, savoring the bite of the air as he breathes in, the same thing he told himself last week and the week before that. I’ll look for a new scarf next week.
In his pocket, his phone buzzes. Meng Yao, exactly on time as usual, at least for the days where his surgery shifts end as planned. He doesn’t need to look at it to know it contains an invitation to meet up that he won’t answer. In a few weeks, Meng Yao will be back in Lanling, and hopefully the job offers and suggestions of relocating there will go with him.
Still, a small part of him aches to reply. He takes another deep breath and lets the desire go on exhale. Wangji will remind him when he gets home why this is the right decision. Besides, Yunmeng has been kind to them. There’s no reason to leave just yet.
“Dr. Lan, thank you for waiting!”
He blinks away the musings and turns to his guest with a smile he actually feels. He’s only known Wen Qing for a day, but she has proven to be competent and level-headed, two qualities he appreciates in his cardiac team members. She has sharp instincts and a gentle touch with patients. Her shadowing period will likely be a short one.
“No worries, Dr. Wen. The cold air is quite refreshing after such a long day in theatre. What is your impression of our team so far?” He says, waiting for Wen Qing to adjust her coat before turning to walk down the street.
“I was very impressed with everyone. The hand-off to Dr. Wang’s shift was very smooth,” she says. He nods, glad. It’s something they’ve been working on improving. “You’re not working tomorrow, are you? I heard this was your third day in the OR.”
“Yes, I switched shifts with Dr. Lin — you will meet him tomorrow most likely — so I will take a rest day tomorrow. Then I will be at the heart center on Friday, and on-call this weekend. Are you shadowing the OR all week?”
There’s a moment of silence. He glances over to see her staring at her phone. “Dr. Wen?”
Her head snaps up. “Oh! My apologies. Yes, I will be shadowing and assisting this week. Then they will have me in the office next week. After that, I think Dr. Wang wanted to pair me with a team member for a short time.” She slides her phone into her pocket, and he doesn’t comment on the dusting of pink on her cheeks. It’s quite a different look from the intensity she showed in the operating room earlier.
“Dr. Wang was quite pleased to snatch you up from Qishan. A lot of good things were said about you during your residency there. I’m sure you’ll be up to speed in no time,” he adds, and because he can’t help himself, he continues, “Did you move here alone? With a partner?”
Her eyes narrow at him. “No. I don’t have — a partner. I’m single. Well. I’m not alone either. I’m living with my brother and his roommate, a family friend.”
They pause at a stoplight. “It’s good to have family in a new place. I also live with my brother. He’s a music teacher at the high school.”
“Not Lan Wangji?” she asks, startled.
“You know him!”
She laughs. “I met him yesterday. He’s—” she glances at him. He wonders what she’s trying not to say. “—a friend of my friend, Wei Wuxian.”
He can’t help but laugh. “Ah, yes, the boyfriend! Don’t worry, he’s told me,” he reassures her. “Though I suspected a long time before that, ever since Wei Wuxian joined their school.”
She shakes her head. “Yunmeng must be a lot smaller than I thought.”
“Yes,” he says as the light changes and they cross the street. “I think you will find that to be true. I’m originally from Gusu, but Yunmeng has been quite kind to me. I hope good things find you here.”
“I hope so, too.” She’s fiddling with her phone in her pocket again. He wonders if she’s waiting on a call or hoping to make one herself. What kind of person would be on the other line for a woman like Wen Qing? He really needs to stop speculating about other people’s lives, but curiosity makes a great distraction from dwelling on his own affairs.
They reach the station entrance. It’s late enough that there are barely any people, but they still have a while until the last train runs.
“Well, I’ll leave you here. My entrance is on the other side,” he says. “I will see you next week. Feel free to use the number I gave you earlier if you have any questions about work.”
“Thank you again, Dr. Lan. Have a safe trip home!” She waves and descends into the station.
He hadn’t lied. His entrance is on the other side of the street. He just doesn’t intend to take the subway tonight. He has a head full of thoughts that won’t settle and Mingjue’s scarf around his neck. The stars are bright. It’s a perfect night for walking home.
Summary: Wen Qing moves to Yunmeng to be closer to her brother. She never expected her ugly suitcase to bring someone like Jiang Yanli to her life. A series in connections, family, and the love that binds them.
Day 1 , Day 2
3. Jiang Yanli - charmed | shudder | sheets
The phone screen remains black, just as it has the last three times Jiang Yanli glanced over. She tries not to grab for it. Her suitcase is nearly unpacked, only a few more shirts to put away. She carefully smooths the wrinkles out of the shirt under her hands, tucks in the sides and the sleeves, and folds it up neatly into thirds. Her fingers brush over the cotton again.
She’s always liked folding clothes. She’d often fold her brothers’ laundry when they all lived together. She had been scolded for it many times. “My daughter is not a maid,” her mother would say, on a good day. On a bad day, well—Jiang Yanli had been glad the words were only heard by herself and not A-Xian. Still, she kept up the folding. There was something meditative about it. Smooth. Crease. Fold. Smooth. Crease. Fold. She could lose herself in the motions, focus on the material under her fingertips, and usually the day’s worries would fade away, leaving her feeling still at last.
Today, she can’t quite get there. Abandoning her last three shirts on the dresser, she reaches for her phone and walks backwards to fall back onto her bed. There are no new notifications.
“Jiang Yanli, you silly thing,” she mutters to herself, rolling to plant her face in a pillow. She kicks her feet a little for good measure.
It’s only been two days since she got off the plane from Lanling, riding high on the feeling of freedom, and gave her number to the cute girl in the airport. She had been so proud of herself. When she’d jumped into the car, flushed and jittery from adrenaline, Luo Qingyang had laughed and cheered from the driver’s seat. It had felt like a victory.
But it’s been two days with no messages, and now she just feels foolish, like a little girl playing at being a grown-up. She hadn’t even asked for the girl’s name. How impolite! Of course she wouldn’t message.
She groans into the pillow again. At least the sheets are freshly washed. The smell is a small comfort.
“Hey now! What’s this?” calls Luo Qingyang from the doorway. “What’s got you so down?”
Jiang Yanli turns her head to peer at her as she comes over to sit next to her on the bed. “No messages,” she replies, brandishing her phone in Luo Qingyang’s direction. Luo Qingyang takes it from her and pats at her back a little.
“She might be busy! She could be working. You moved in with me straight from the airport. Maybe she’s in a similar situation. Don’t lose hope.” She grins a little. “And if she doesn’t call or message, that’s her loss. We’ll find you a hundred better ladies to make out with.”
“MianMian!” Jiang Yanli laughs, sitting up to shove lightly at her shoulder.
“I admit, she was pretty cute from what I saw of her from the car. But that can’t be why you’re so tied up in knots about this. You didn’t talk for very long. What did you talk about that got you so interested?”
She twists her hair around her fingers and smiles sheepishly at Luo Qingyang. “To be honest,” she answers, “I’m not sure.”
What had they talked about? She couldn’t remember. She’d been so preoccupied with the cute little line between the girl’s brows. At first it really had just been sharing in the delight of the twin suitcases, but as they’d talked she’d found herself charmed, wanting to see the girl smile more. She had taken one look and decided that this girl would fit into her life somehow.
So Jiang Yanli had taken a chance and given out her number. A-Cheng would shout at her if he knew, but A-Xian would be proud.
Luo Qingyang swats at her. “You don’t remember! Wow, I’ve never seen you like this. Blinded by someone’s beauty, our Jiang Yanli!”
Jiang Yanli laughs again, feeling a bit more tension seep out of her shoulders as she does. It’s always nice to banter with Luo Qingyang. Fewer childish antics than A-Xian, and less bite than A-Cheng. She really lucked out in gaining Luo Qingyang as a roommate and friend. She had been afraid that ending things with Jin Zixuan would also end her friendship with his childhood friend, but Luo Qingyang was adamant about sticking with her.
“It’s not like that!” she protests. “When I left Lanling...” she falters, a shudder stealing her breath for a moment. Luo Qingyang lays a hand on her knee, encouraging. She continues. “When I left Lanling, I felt nothing. Empty. You know I don’t dislike Jin Zixuan, but I thought that after breaking off the engagement, I would feel happier. It wasn’t until I stepped off the plane that I really started to feel like it was all over. Like I was free. Suddenly I had choices! And when I saw her, I thought—this is a choice I want to make.”
Luo Qingyang looks at her with an expression that makes Jiang Yanli hide her face in her hands. “A-Li, that’s so cute! I guess I should give this back to you then.” She tosses the phone onto the bed sheets. “It buzzed a few times.”
3 new notifications.
“Oh!” She scrambles to grab it and click on the message.
Luo Qingyang giggles and stands to leave. “I’ll make dinner. Have fun with your new beau!”
Jiang Yanli ignores her.
Hi. This is Wen Qing.
You gave me your number at the airport the other day.
We had the same suitcase.
Wen Qing? It’s a pretty name. She can’t help but smile. She feels it again, the sense of possibility and new beginnings, of making decisions and following where they lead. She replies.
Summary: Wen Qing moves to Yunmeng to be closer to her brother. She never expected her ugly suitcase to bring someone like Jiang Yanli to her life. A series in connections, family, and the love that binds them.
Day 1
2. Wei Wuxian - buttons | feelings | rest
“Oh ho! Did our Qing-jie catch feelings for someone?” Wei Wuxian crows, leaning over the table as if to poke at Wen Qing’s cheek. “Look at this expression!” She grabs his finger before he can actually touch her. Her eyes promise murder. They can’t do anything to disguise the redness spreading over her features.
“You should have seen her yesterday!” Wen Ning adds, and Wen Qing gapes at him in betrayal. “I’ve never seen that color on her face.”
“A-ning!” she snaps at him. He ducks his head as if in apology, but there’s nothing subtle about the grin he aims at Wei Wuxian. They snicker at each other.
“Now you can bet I’m not going to tell you any details,” she grumbles.
Wei Wuxian sits back, exaggerating his pout, but there’s a lightness inside of him that threatens to spill out. He’s glad she’s here. Not just here with them in this hole-in-the-wall cafe in Yunmeng, but present in the little smiles, in the sighs of exasperation, in the fond eye-rolls. Two years ago he’d parted from a Wen Qing filled with steel who had wrapped the frenetic haze of work so tightly around herself that worry and grief could not touch her. Neither could joy, hope, or contentment. Her world had been surviving and taking care of her brother.
To see her fretting over a phone number, scolding him with the hint of dimples that gave away her amusement, enjoying milk tea with no sense of urgency — he can hardly keep from grinning.
Wei Wuxian can’t deny that he’s selfish sometimes. He wants all the people he loves in the same place. He’d brought Wen Ning to Yunmeng to help him, but he’s always hoped Wen Qing would follow. He’s glad that this might end up helping her as well.
“Come on,” he whines, “at least tell us more than ‘we met at the airport.’ Was it love at first sight? Did you sit next to her on the plane? Did you make eye contact over overpriced airport food? Did you sweep her off her feet? Wait, did she sweep you off your feet?”
Wen Ning nods enthusiastically in agreement, turning wide, pleading eyes on his sister. Good boy, Wen Ning, he thinks.
She huffs a laugh and shakes her head. “You’re both ridiculous. We met at the baggage claim, actually—”
“Wei Ying,” interrupts a voice. Not just any voice. A voice Wei Wuxian prefers over any other. His name in that voice sounds like a song he never wants to end.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian answers, letting the happiness he feels escape onto his face, turning to beam at the tall figure by their table. He’s been practically vibrating out of his skin wondering if Lan Wangji would take the invitation to join them. From the corner of his eye, he sees Wen Qing and Wen Ning whispering to each other.
“Lan Wangji, it’s nice to see you again,” says Wen Ning. Lan Wangji nods at him. He turns to Wen Qing and bows a little in apology.
“Please excuse me. I believe I interrupted you.”
“Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan! Come on, sit, this is Wen Qing. I was telling you about her. You’re just in time for her story.” Wei Wuxian scoots further into their booth and holds out a hand. Lan Wangji hesitates, golden eyes taking measure of the room. The cafe isn’t particularly crowded, but it’s far from empty. Wei Wuxian waits, hand up, unwavering. This is safe, he wants to say.
Lan Wangji reaches for him. Wei Wuxian’s heart pounds. He’s met Wen Ning before, but he’d been friend then. Wei Wuxian wants him to be boyfriend this time. This thing between them isn’t fragile, but it’s only ever belonged to them. Wei Wuxian is selfish though. He wants all the people he loves in the same place. He wants them to love each other as he loves them.
Lan Wangji doesn’t grab his hand. Instead, he leans in further until he’s grasping the unbuttoned plackets of Wei Wuxian’s red henley. With what feels like agonizing slowness, he does up the buttons until only one is left open. “Dress appropriately,” Lan Wangji says and finally grasps Wei Wuxian’s hand in his own, sliding into the booth.
Wei Wuxian blinks. Wen Ning and Wen Qing are fighting down identical expressions of delight. They don’t share many features, but in this moment they truly appear to be siblings.
Wen Qing leans over and pokes at his cheek. “Oh! Has Wei Wuxian caught feelings for someone? Look at this expression!”
For November, I’ll be writing (or trying to) a ficlet a day of interconnected stories for various parings in mdzs/the untamed. They’re all set in the same modern au, but it will primarily be a Jiang Yanli/Wen Qing story. Prompts once again provided by the wonderful @marsastronomica!
1. Yanqing - golden | travel | pattern
Wen Qing meets Jiang Yanli on a sunny autumn afternoon in the Yunmeng airport. She’s frazzled, tired from the flight and stressed from two weeks of moving preparations, and the last thing she wants is to spend forever at baggage claim. Luckily, her suitcase is one of the first out. She’s reaching for it, a gaudy pink thing with owls patterned all over it, when another hand grabs the handle beside hers. Irritation prickles at her. She turns sharply to the stranger, reprimand on her tongue, but it dies quickly.
Wen Qing knows she should say something, figure out what kind of misunderstanding is clearly happening, but breath is necessary for speaking and hers has just been stolen away. The woman in front of her is luminous in the golden afternoon sun. Wen Qing is captured by her bright eyes and kind smile, the long curve of her neck, the little wispy hairs escaping loosely-braided hair and framing her face.
The woman blinks at her and laughs a little, light and sweet like chimes in the wind. “It’s getting away!”
They scramble for it. When they get it off the conveyor, Wen Qing sees the tag on it that reads Jiang Yanli.
“I’m so sorry. I never thought someone else could have the same hideous bag as mine,” she says, helping Jiang Yanli get the bag upright.
“It was a present from my brother,” she explains, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. Wen Qing follows the movement distractedly. Her skin is pale, like she doesn’t see a lot of light, and there are small bruises under her eyes as if she hasn’t slept well. Even so, she’s beautiful. “He bought it for me after someone mistakenly took my last suitcase.”
“Mine was a gift as well. Mostly to embarrass me, but it’s quite practical for traveling. Joke’s on him,” Wen Qing replies.
“Well, I’m glad for it. The bag is quite heavy. I appreciate the help catching it!” Jiang Yanli says, smiling so sweetly that Wen Qing can’t help but smile back. “Oh! There’s yours! Let’s get it.”
They wrangle the second bag out, and Wen Qing feels herself laughing for the first time in weeks. They walk together to the pick-up area, matching eye-sores rolling behind. Conversation flows between them easily.
Jiang Yanli’s ride pulls up first, and Wen Qing fights to conceal her disappointment. Before she gets in the car, Jiang Yanli turns and grabs Wen Qing’s hands. Her hands are so soft. All the lotion in the world wouldn’t make Wen Qing’s hands as soft as Jiang Yanli’s. Her fingers gently open Wen Qing’s left palm, and in a moment she’s pulled out a pen and written a series of numbers on the skin.
In Wen Qing’s five years of medical school and two years of residency, she’s never lost her head in a crisis, but a phone number from a pretty girl has her blinking at her own hand in stupor.
“I hope to see you again,” Jiang Yanli says, pulling away with a brush of her thumb. She leaves.
By the time Wen Ning pulls up, Wen Qing’s heartbeat has returned to a healthy rhythm. She could still use a good night’s sleep, but much of her earlier irritation has settled. Her brother is by her side once more, and she has a new number to put into her phone. Tomorrow, she’ll meet up with an old friend. Something a little like hope sparks in her chest. Moving to Yunmeng feels more and more like the correct decision.
“Ugh, please, let’s go somewhere else,” Jiang Cheng begs as Lan Wangji whisks his brother away from his own party. Nie Huaisang is trying to hide his laughter behind his cup, but it’s not big enough to conceal his wide smile or the crinkle of his eyes.
“They’re disgusting,” Jiang Cheng grouses, trying to look away. Nie Huaisang’s fingers at his brow startle him. Their eyes meet.
“Your face is going to stay this way one day,” Nie Huaisang says. His face is soft, and it makes something inside Jiang Cheng go soft to match. This might be a problem.
Lan Zhan is always calling him shameless. It’s something he’s been called by many, and maybe it’s true. He’s certainly begging shamelessly, pressed against the door of his bathroom at his own birthday party.
Please, Lan Zhan, let me —
But it’s Lan Zhan on his knees, looking up through long lashes, lips red and swollen. It was Lan Zhan who dragged him in here, pulling him away from Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang. Anyone nearby can probably hear his cries through the door.
It doesn’t matter. They can be shameless in their love together.
Nie Mingjue hadn’t planned on attending Wei Wuxian’s party, but Huaisang had begged him to stay and socialize. It’s not just a birthday party. It’s a Halloween party! he’d said. As if Nie Mingjue ever celebrated Halloween.
Still, there are perks, such as Lan Xichen’s gently amused smile as he offers a drink.
“This one isn’t spiked,” he says. Their fingers brush, another gift. Nie Mingjue hopes he isn’t blushing. Every scrap of attention from this man leaves him aching for another.
He fumbles his way through a conversation that lasts for hours. Lan Xichen’s laughter feels like a victory.
Zhao Yunlan wakes, gasping into consciousness. He pats frantically beside him, searching. Shen Wei’s hand is warm. He grasps it. Centers himself in the present.
Zhao Yunlan is in their bed, in their apartment, where they’ve built a life together, a year since Shen Wei reached into the burning prison of the Guardian Lantern and pulled him free.
Shen Wei stirs. When his eyes blink open, he looks to Zhao Yunlan, and a smile stretches sweetly over his face.
“Yunlan,” he murmurs. The last dregs of Zhao Yunlan’s nightmare fade away. He leans over to capture that smile for himself.
Jiang Cheng is going to strangle Nie Huaisang. Four missed calls was unusual, especially so close to midnight, and a spike of anxiety had prompted him to call back. He hadn’t expected—this.
“Jiang Cheng,” Huaisang breathes. His voice is low, husky. Jiang Cheng can hear the rustling of sheets. A sigh. Is he—is he moaning? Jiang Cheng’s heartbeat picks up.
“A-cheng is so good,” Huaisang keens, “he makes me feel so good. Such strong hands.” The words go straight to his cock.
“I can’t believe you are doing this,” Jiang Cheng sputters. Still, his own hand slips beneath his sheets.
Jiang Yanli’s tongue is still cold from the ice cream they had shared earlier. The skin around her nipple puckers, and Wen Qing feels the shock all the way down to her toes. She slides her fingers into silky hair, pushes a little.
Jiang Yanli’s fingers trace the edges of her breasts. She hovers over Wen Qing, thighs barely touching, breasts brushing lightly across Wen Qing’s stomach. These whispers of intimacy make her shiver. She needs more. She burns inside, wants to press their bodies together and never part.
Jiang Yanli’s pulls away to smile at her—sweetly, knowingly—and moves closer.
Nie Mingjue watches Huaisang and Xichen from the kitchen. They’re chatting on the couch as Huaisang carefully paints color onto Xichen’s nails. The bottle of polish balances on Huaisang’s knee, and Nie Mingjue eyes it for a moment. It’s got glitter, and he refuses to clean that out of the cushions again.
But Xichen is smiling softly at whatever tale Huaisang is spinning, and the happy scrunch of Huaisang’s nose is worth any sparkling blue stains that might mark his furniture. It’s a nice color, complementing the silver band on Xichen’s finger.
26. wangxian - modern au - pumpkins | interruption
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian giggles, squirming between the arms caging him against their refrigerator. Lan Zhan mouths wetly at his neck, teeth scraping but not biting, not yet. Wei Wuxian knows that restraint won’t last. “We don’t -- haha -- have time -- hah,” he tries.
“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees and takes Wei Wuxian’s earlobe in his teeth.
They almost don’t hear A-yuan over Wei Wuxian’s squeal.
“Baba? A-die?” He calls, pushing a pumpkin almost as tall as his waist. “Carving time?”
Lan Zhan steps back, slowly, and his disgruntled look matches A-yuan’s so well that Wei Wuxian can’t help but laugh joyfully.
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