Fae! - Art Comms Closed!

Into MDZS atm. Disabled Writer and Artist. Requests Open. Art Comms Closed. Sideblog of the-archangel-of-salt. PFP my own.

[offaeandcreation]

Intro:

Hi! I’m Fae. I’m an artist and writer. Currently into MDZS. Will be posting art and writing here!

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[offaeandcreation]

Sleep-Deprived College Student Becomes World's Strongest Cultivator By Bullshit Means

Chapter 6 + 7 + 8: The Father Trap Pt 3 + Pt 4 + Pt 5

Summary: There was still one person Ani hasn't comforted yet. Except, Wen Xu is missing.

Chapter 4+5: (Prev)

Chapter 9: (Next)

Content Warning: Emotional outburst, Mild Homophobia

It is truth universally acknowledged that an Ani, in possession of a terrible night’s sleep, is in want of an alarm clock. The darkness outside was no help in determining anything other than the fact that she shouldn’t be awake now. Ani flopped back into bed, staring up at the ceiling. No matter how much she tossed and turned, or how long she tried to meditate in the garden, or how many goldfish she counted in her head, her mind wouldn’t let her rest. 

What am I anxious about? 

Wen Xia is staying. Anyone in her family, especially A-Li, knew that if you cry enough in front of Ani, any semblance of a spine dissipates into the void. How else would Ani allow Wen Ruohan’s twin sister, who’s known him since childhood, to stick around? 

Ani face-palmed herself. 

Why am I LIKE this? 

She was temperamental too. Throwing a fight in front of the children. Wen Chao cried and Wen Xu–

Ani shot up.  

Dammit! I should have checked on him. At least to see if he was okay. 

Ani got to her feet and struggled to open the drawers to get a robe. Like a Tin-man in dire need of oiling, her arms jerked across the folded fabric.

What the hell?  

The robe refused to budge. She pulled harder. With a crack, she pulled out the entire drawer, the wood clanking onto the ground and silk robes scattered like snow. 

Fu- No this is fine. Just...gonna pick one up. The servants can clean it later.

With jagged movements, she pulled out a simple robe from the floor and tried to tie the knot she had seen the servants do. Her fingers refused to cooperate and she yanked at it until she got her finger stuck in a loop. 

Stupid fingers. Stupid long nails! 

 Ani bit her lip not to scream. She tasted iron. Her fingers dug into the fabric, long sharp nail catching on individual threads of expensive silk. Fire and thunder burned in her throat. Heat throbbed in her temples. 

Obeyme. Obeyme. Howdareyoudefyme-

The threads exploded in her hands: the silk robe in tatters on the floor. 

Ani blinked. 

What just happened? 

She merely tore a hole and–

All the drawers had shot out, spraying the entire room in clothing. She wheezed, curling up into a ball. Tears blurred her vision.

I need to get a hold of myself.

Ani wiped her tears with the helm of her sleeve. She picked up a dark brown silk robe and pants that got caught on a pillar. 

I’m just going to check on Wen Xu, before I forget. Then I need to figure out what caused this outburst. 

She groped the dark walls to climb to her feet. The cold lacquer tantalized her fingers until Ani stuck her face into it. The fire beneath her skin cooled. She sighed in relief.

 Ani grabbed one of the lanterns hanging by her door – a sphere of red rice paper covered in golden sun motifs protecting a flame –  and wandered into the hall. She must have miscalculated her movements; she stepped too close to the edge of the doorway and her elbow knocked a nearby vase. Ani froze as the ceramic spun on its wooden table, only stabilizing as the rim peered over the edge. She released a breath, pulling the vase back into its proper place.

Wow, my coordination is off today.

 She turned to walk out before promptly crashing into the wooden pillar. A sharp sting zapped up her nose; it’s a miracle it didn’t bleed. 

I’m walking around like a drunkard. 

Clearly needing it, Ani kept a hand on the wall to maintain balance as she trudged back to Wen Xu’s hall. The lanterns of similar ostentatious quality were still lit, illuminating red paint, and dark wood in a sheen of amber. There was little need for her own personal lantern. But who knows, maybe it will be useful later.

 Her hand brushed against paper, rice paper scrolls that lined the walls. Ani paused, using her lantern to illuminate the page.

Oh, I missed this. 

It was a man sitting on a porch, surrounded by Chrysanthemums, reading a scroll. His figure took center place of the entire piece. The attire, flames embellishing his collar and the headpiece on his head, was the same that Ani wore that day. Wen Ruohan. Ani scanned the calligraphy. Wen Xu signed it. 

He made a portrait of his father? And hung it? 

Ani filed that note for later. It is possible that his work would come up at some point and ‘forgetting’ that he was skilled in art would end in her being outed as an imposter. Or at least being sus. 

More rice scrolls lined the walls. Some of mountainous landscapes, and some portraits of unfamiliar faces. 

All of them undeniably skilled and beautiful.

The hallway turned until finally the door came into view. As Ani approached the door, a scuffle disturbed the silence followed by rapid footsteps and a creak. Ani’s ears twitched. 

Huh? 

Ani considered knocking to ask if Wen Xu was injured...

He’s a teenager, idiot. 

The tips of her ears burned as she rubbed her face.

Right, he probably is fooling around in there. I should leave him be-

A loud thud caught off that thought like a butcher’s knife. 

That doesn’t sound like fooling around. 

Ani’s heart hammered in her chest, thundering in her ears. Her free hand fell to the wooden door handle It creaked under the force of her grip.  

Is Wen Xu hurt? Did someone attack him? 

Ani kicked open the door. 

If it is just something kinky, I’m going to regret this. 

The room was empty, being nothing more than a private sitting room and library. The severe lack of any light sources painted the room in a deep blue hue. 

“Wen Xu?” Ani called out, her voice bouncing off the walls like it would in a cave. She used her lantern to illuminate the dark room. 

No answer. 

Nothing.

What the hell was that noise?  

Footsteps. Like a child running. Above her.

Ani rushed to the nearest window, one hidden behind drawn curtains, and pulled it open. A figure jumped from the roof, landing on the opposite one. They were small, old enough to be an adolescent, but were not fully grown. Ani frowned, narrowing her eyes. 

She pushed open the door to the bedroom. Empty. The bed untouched. Drawers thrown open. Fabric and clothes littered the ground. 

Her lungs were too small. Everything around her spun into dizzying colors.

I shouldn’t have left him alone. 

The walls of the room warped and shrank, as if to crush her. 

I should have insisted on checking on him. 

 The lantern in her hand fell to the floor with a thud. The light within flickered out. 

And now he ran away. 

_____________________

I saw him. It can’t be too late. I have to find him, convince him to come back–

Ani searched the dirt streets for Wen Xu, between plain robes and unfamiliar faces. 

Hanging red lanterns lit the plentiful crowds of Qishan, turning night to day. Restaurants with colorful flowing banners served customers, employees dressed in grey and blue advertising at their entrances.

“Will Young Master try Qishan’s best tea!” A server jumped in Ani’s path, shoving a cup of tea below her nose. Hot leaf juice so potent she could taste it in the back of her throat. 

“No thanks,” Ani backed away, looking over his head for Wen Xu’s bobbing, ribboned bun. 

Wait. Bun. 

Ani paused, scanning the crowd one more time. The youngsters playing with toys a few paces away had their buns in red ribbons. And the passersby eyeing Ani with a range of horrified stares had their hair pulled up by bronze and wooden pins. The old man in the middle of the street singing at the top of his lungs had his hair up. 

Ani had her hair down.

I’M A BARBARIAN! 

“Would you prefer noodles instead, Young Master?” The waiter said, unaware of Ani’s inner cyclone of doom. 

“Not unless I can use them to tie my hair.” 

“Young Master?” 

I said that out loud, didn’t I? 

God, why didn’t I think this throughhhhh. 

“Would you perhaps like some more rice wine instead? We have the best in the city!” The smiling waiter pulled out a brown jar of wine, literally from nowhere. 

“I haven’t had any-” Ani stopped, glancing at her sorry excuse for ‌clothing.

I look like a drunk. 

Dust and mud-caked the front of her robes, but the silk still shimmered under the lanterns.  

A filthy rich drunk. 

“Young Master?” 

I can’t pop in looking for Wen Xu like an undignified drunkard. That’ll surely embarrass him.  

“Mind I ask where you got your clothes? I need the outfit,” She glanced at the simple light grey hemp robes of the waiter. 

The waiter blinked. He bit his lip and shuffled back a step, “why does Young Master want my robe?” 

Over his shoulder, Wen Xu exited a noodle restaurant several blocks down. His clothing a mute black robe with a sash, but no knapsack or even his sword.

Wen Xu!

The memory of the mess in his room, clothing thrown all over the floor resurfaced.

He was just trying to find that outfit for his outing? To blend in– 

Wen Xu wove through the crowd, drifting farther and farther away.

Shit!

“Well,‌” Ani gestured to herself, tapping her foot with impatience, “I’m a researcher and journalist on the…” she gestured at the waiter’s shop, “the treatment of waiters in restaurants and pubs, such as your own. Do you feel underrepresented in your place of work? Does your employer provide dental?” 

The waiter’s brows furrowed, “Dental? I haven’t heard of this.” 

He thinks I’m spouting drunk nonsense. 

Ani clicked her tongue, “Not even dental, would you look at that. How unfair. Healthy teeth are important, you know!”  

The waiter blinked, but at least he stopped leaning away from her, “I don’t understand why dental is important.” 

Fuck, can we do this faster?

“Your teeth will rot and fall out. And then you get cavities in your brain and die. Not really pleasant.” Ani burst out. 

The waiter paled considerably, clutching his mouth, “My aunt had bad teeth and died! They wouldn’t even provide tanghulu for her offerings. She adored tanghulu!”

Ani nodded, “Exactly! Bad teeth kill people!” 

“But what does young master’s research have to do with my clothing?” The waiter asked, scratching his chin. 

Please. I beg you. PLEASE. 

“If you give me an extra set of robes,” Ani gave him her best customer service smile, “I’ll make certain your workplace will provide dental first. Now go! Hurry! And don’t forget a bun ribbon!”

He ran into the restaurant, seconds later bringing out a spare robe and pants. Ani thanked him and threw it over her silk robes, tying her hair up with a ribbon mid-run. 

Wen Xu. Wen Xu. Wen Xu. Where were you last-? 

Ani tripped over a child carrying sweet rice cakes. The cake fell onto the dirt ground, trampled underfoot. The child stared at the ground with wide, watery eyes before bursting into tears. 

“SORRY!” Ani cried out, before knocking into a couple, “I’m so fucking sorry!”

How many people am I going to piss off before I find–

Wen Xu’s bun bobbled into a nearby restaurant. 

THERE. 

She ran inside the building, stepping from the rock pathway to the wooden boards. Just as the tables filled with people came into view, another waiter stepped in front of her. The thick waft of alcohol tsunamied her senses.

“Would Young Master like to try Qishan’s best rice wine?” He gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Wasn’t the last guy’s wine the best in Qishan? 

“I’m actually looking for-” Ani squinted. The room was enough to hold at least fifty people. Customers sat on simple yellow mats around dark worn tables covered in rice wine and snacks. The waiters balanced ceramic cups and bottles that clinked as they shimmied between each other, careful not to trip over the hemp mats. They would pause over a table, offering more to those who seemed to have already had plenty.  No Wen Xu bun in sight. 

I saw him enter. He has to be here.  

“Sect Leader Wen completely lost his mind,” someone slurred. 

Ani tensed, her fingers twitching.

Shit! did I cause something- 

“What do you mean, Liu Shen?” one of the people in the crowd shouted at the speaker. “Isn’t that common knowledge?”

Oh, wait, no, he was nuts before. 

Ani exhaled, wiping her brow. 

Haven’t fucked up yet. 

“Sect Leader Wen requested directions to his very own library! Can you believe such nonsense? Isn’t he hailed as one of the top cultivators and minds in Qishan? And he doesn’t know where the library is?”

Fuck! FUCK! FUCKING FUCKITY FUCK! 

She did that! To herself. If Ani wasn’t in public, she would slam her face into the nearest pillar. 

“Uh, Young Master? Are you well?” The waiter looked worried. 

Sweat dripped by Ani’s temple, “Mm, fine. Fine. I’m just… looking for someone, bye!” Ani pushed past the waiter into the restaurant. 

Her eyes wandered from face to face, looking for familiar features. Most were young men, sitting in groups of three and four, faces barely lined with baby fat.  Her eyes landed on what looked like a couple in the room’s corner: one had their hair in a bun gazing into the eyes of the other who wore blue robes. It was hard to make out his features, but the dark eyes and carefully braided brown hair did not belong to Wen Xu. He opened his mouth, accepting a peanut from his companion in familiar black robes. 

Very adorable.

 Ani shook her head, tearing away to leave the lovebirds in their secluded spot. 

I need to just find Wen Xu and leave before I’m recognized. 

“There is more!” The speaker continued, facing away from Ani, “Sect Leader doesn’t require servants to walk on their knees now! And he hasn’t once shown his face to the public for over a fortnight!” 

Ani stumbled, catching onto the wall, her hand flying to her head. Her vision swam like someone spilled ink all over her face. 

How the fuck does he know that?! 

 Collective gasps from the crowd. Several patrons spoke at once: 

“Has something softened Sect Leader Wen’s heart?” 

“Has his cultivation been crippled?” 

“May it be that the tree will fall soon?”

Ani leaned onto the nearby wall, hand clasping onto the rickety table beside her. The rough wooden splinters dug into her fingers.

May it be that the tree will fall soon? Or may I die soon because I’m an incompetent fool? If my position is questioned, the Wen sect will fall. Wen Xu and Wen Chao will be killed. 

“The Sect Leader has been ill. Perhaps his cultivation was never as high as they said. Useless like the rest of the Sect when the common folk ask for help!” With side bangs flying as he swung his head with emphasis, the speaker basked in the attention like an arrogant movie star. Patrons roared, several comments flew at him at once. Some agreeing, others not. He stood above them, holding a drink in hand, smirking as the patrons begged for more information. He looked about the crowd with his nose in the air.

His face came into view. Ani nearly choked on her own breath. 

My servant! 

“Funny you say that, considering you work directly for Sect Leader Wen.” A familiar, youthful voice interrupted the rally. Heads turned, and the same peanut-chomping lovebirds from before walked from their corner, holding hands. 

“Xiao Dan! Hong Cheng!” A waiter stepped in front of her, shouting, “I missed you two!”

The unfamiliar boy waved with a shy smile. The other held his back with far more strength: he gave a nod towards the waiter with a full-blown out grin. Ani’s breath caught in her throat. It was Wen Xu! 

“It would be a shame if he found out what you spouted drunkenly to a crowd.” Wen Xu cocked his head to the side, giving a little half-smile, “You’re drunk, servant. Go home and then he may just not find out.” 

Ani watched the crowds: all of them familiar with Wen Xu.  

They don’t know his real name?! Nani!   

One of the patrons stood up from his seat, gesturing to Wen Xu, “Xiao Dan is right! You’ll be tossed into the Fire Palace.” 

The crowd murmured in agreement. 

The servant, who Ani placed as the one who dressed her, laughed. Rice wine spilled from his cup, splashing his hand in clear alcohol. 

“And what about you,Young Master Wen?” 

Voices murmured among the patrons. Sweat prickled at the back of Ani’s neck, her fingers digging into the scratched wood. The hemp outfit was suddenly far too thin to keep the chills at bay. 

Wen Xu’s expression darkened. His fists clenched by his side. The boy beside him frowned, saying; “Are you so drunk as to confuse Xiao Dan with the Young Master Wen?”

“How else would he know my employer? They even share the same looks. And you fools fell for a child’s lies?”

Several patrons spoke at once. One of them shouted: 

“You mean this is Sect Leader Wen’s son?”

He revealed him!

She snatched the table up. A low growl escaped her throat.

I have to do something. 

The servant grinned at Wen Xu a mile wide, rivaling Ursula as she rose from the sea and towered over the couple on their tiny rickety boat, “What are you doing holding hands with another boy? Did you cut your sleeves? It would be a shame if Sect Leader Wen found out.” 

 “You’re fired,” Ani snarled, before slamming the servant with a wooden table. He crashed into the adjacent wall. 

Silence. Ani glared at the crowd, holding the wooden table up like a super-sized anime sword, “Anyone else have a problem?”

The entire restaurant dropped in a low, panicked bow.

“Good.” 

She tossed away the table, approaching the couple. As she walked over, he clasped his hands and straightened his back like he swallowed a sharpened rod.

“Fuqin.” Wen Xu stood up in front of her, blocking the other boy from sight, ”please don’t hurt Cheng Hong!” 

Ani met his pleading eyes. 

Why is he panicking–

He thinks I’d hurt—

Wen Ruohan I WILL stuff a PINECONE up where the sun don’t shine, you absolute BASTARD. 

“We’ll discuss this elsewhere.” Ani said, gesturing out of the restaurant, “but first, go tell your boyfriend you’ll see him later. I’ll wait.” 

Ani snickered into her sleeve as Wen Xu saluted. As he turned to address his boyfriend, Ani noticed that every single patron still held their noses to the floor. 

“Uh, you can get up now.” 

Everyone jumped up, the older patrons flinching and clasping their backs.

Whoops. 

A server helped the servant out of the hole in the wall, blood leaking down from his head.

The ghost sensation of wood tingled her fingers. She clenched them until the knuckles of her hands turned white. 

I did that. 

_______________________________

In silence, they walked together out of Qishan, heading towards the Nightless City. Crickets chirped around them, alerted by the lantern Wen Xu carried. Every crunch underfoot emphasized the heavyweight between them, heavier than an elephant. 

“I hope that the reason you are losing sleep isn’t because you’ve been out partying.” Ani teased.

Wen Xu ducked his head, “Rarely, Fuqin.” 

Okay… so he’s responding. That’s good. 

“What was the occasion then?” 

Wen Xu muttered something under his breath, but the words didn’t make much sense. Stilted. He clasped his hands, rubbing them together. 

His reaction from before pleading with me to spare Cheng Hong.  

“I want to be clear, you are welcome to pursue whomever you wish: man, woman, nonbinary, as long as they treat you well. You don’t need to see anyone in secret from me.”

Silence. 

“Respond to how you wish, regardless of the content. You have my permission.” Ani quickly added. 

“What’s nonbinary?” Wen Xu asked. 

Ani choked, “um, a discussion for later. Anything else?” 

Wen Xu’s brows pinched together, his lips quirked to a frown, “I have a duty to the Sect and Clan, how can I continue the family line as a cut-sleeve?” 

“Cut-sleeve refers to preferring the company of the same gender if I recall correctly?” 

Wen Xu stuttered mid-step, staring at Ani, “that’s com-” He stopped himself, mouth forming a thin line, “yes.” 

Ani balled her fists, “That servant outed you. In front of strangers.” 

Wen Xu paused, footsteps coming to an abrupt stop.  His expression dark, scowl emphasized by the lowlights. He didn’t look like a boy at that moment, even the softness around his jaw disappearing. A man fighting a war within himself, or perhaps with her. 

He bowed, head so low Ani feared he would try to kowtow. 

“I was a fool, Fuqin. I should have silenced him another way. Instead, I ignited rumors. I ruined our reputation.”

Oh right, rumors.

As Ani grasped onto Wen Ruohan’s reputation for safety, of course, Wen Xu must do the same. Still, no son of hers should have to beg to exist.

Wen Xu’s shoulders sank, “I broke it off with Cheng Hong. I didn’t want to involve him in my mistakes.” 

Ani’s heart clenched in her chest. Wen Xu’s identity had been exposed right by his partner. It would be a danger to continue the relationship – they would paint Cheng Hong as a gold digger at best. 

“Reputations are stupid.” Ani grumbled, “do people have nothing better to do than gossip?” 

Dark red eyes met her own, his mouth slightly agape. A silent ‘what the fuck?’  

“Nearly dying has a tendency to change opinions,” Ani prayed he’d accept the excuse.

That comment earned her a well-deserved frown. 

Ani sighed. Wen Xu stood there, coiled up in more knots than a cat tangled in a spring. 

“If there’s a solution, I’ll find it, even if it means ‌heads will roll.,” Ani said, pausing before adding; “Especially if it includes heads rolling.”

 Wen Xu snorted. His shoulders slumped, the rigidity in them dissipating. 

___________________________

Sunlight leaked from between the curtains. Ani glared at it from beneath her blanket of hair and covers. Her mind buzzed all night, as if high on acid. One moment the words that damn servant spoke screamed in her mind, next she was thinking about how cats were the villains in Jaws. How in the world she jumped there, she had no idea, she just knew that cat’s don’t go sticking their tails out like sharks when hunting, right? It would be stupid to do so. Granted, her knowledge about cats, unlike potatoes, was near nonexistent. If she were god, she would make sure cats didn’t stick their tails up to hunt––there she went again! 

First tearing up robes, hitting a servant with a table, and now ranting about cats in my head. What the fuck is wrong with me? 

Frantic knocking disturbed her very much terrible worst morning ever. 

“What!” Ani croaked. 

The door slid open. Wen Zhuliu walked in, giving a salute, “my apologies for disturbing you so early.”

“Lucky for you, I wasn’t getting much rest anyway,” she grumbled. Especially since cat-sharks ran around in her head. Like legit, where did that thought come from–

Wen Zhuliu held out a scroll. An unfamiliar insignia of a beast pasted on its front. Ani took it, peeling the seal away with her fingernails.

At least they have some use.

“A messenger arrived a quarter of a sichen ago with a scroll from Sect Leader Nie.”

Wasn’t there a conflict between Wen Ruohan and Sect Leader Nie that led to this? Placing Ani’s very soul in this body? 

“He wasn’t permitted to enter due to what occurred last time,” Wen Zhuliu continued, “but I believed you would want to receive it immediately.” 

Wait, back up. What happened last time!?

“Is the messenger-”

“He is from the Nie-Sect. I didn’t think it was wise for him to take you by surprise.” 

What the fuck HAPPENED last time?! 

The rice paper crinkled as she unrolled it. Calligraphers would grumble in jealousy if they saw this handwriting. She scanned the letter once. Her death grip tore the paper.

Sect Leader Nie requested a meeting. 

[offaeandcreation]

Sleep Deprived College Student Becomes World’s Strongest Cultivator By Bullshit Means

Chapter 4 + 5: The Father Trap Pt 1 and Pt 2

Summary: 

Chapter 4: Confronted by Wen Ruohan's twin, Ani must navigate a deeply emotional landscape without giving away the fact she knows absolutely jack shit about what's going on. 

Chapter 5: Ani meets face to face with Wen Ruohan's twin sister, Wen Xia and There is enough landmines to send anyone flying to the moon. Luckily for Ani, she has no idea what's going on, and the novel literally doesn't help. Clearly, she is soooooooo not screwed or anything.

Chapter 3: (Prev)

Chapter 6: (Next)

Content Warnings: People yelling, Dead person mentioned resulting in people being triggered (I mean the actual psychological definition), Dead child mentioned, Pregnancy death implied.

AO3 Chapter 4

AO3 Chapter 5

Was I supposed to know Wen Ruohan had a twin sister or was I supposed to find out from said twin sister crashing a family reunion party while beating up the Core Melting Hand, and calling me Didi? 

Luckily for Wen Zhuliu, all his injuries were minor, none enough to drip on the dark wood floors or Ani wouldn’t have hesitated to have Wen Ruohan’s twin sister’s sword confiscated. Or something. For safety precautions.

“Sect Leader, can you verify this cultivator’s claims?” His face insisted ‘I’ll yeet her if you tell me too.’

“Pardon?” The supposed sister glared at Wen Zhuliu, “how about instead you take one look at me, and then at A-Han, and you tell me if we’re related or not?!” She pointed at her own square-shaped face and red irises—matching what Ani had seen in the mirror for the past couple days. 

Wen Zhuliu glanced at her, before looking back at Ani with his equivalent of Thor Ragnarok’s ‘is she though?’

Ani paused. How could she truly verify if this cultivator was indeed his sister and not someone who really looked like her or something?  She wasn’t Wen Ruohan.

The supposed sister rubbed her temples, “Didi, please.”

She called me that as she came in too-

“She’s my sister.” Ani waved at Wen Zhuliu.

Everyone turned to look at her: with a narrowed expression, Wen Xu tightened his grasp on his sword, and Wen Zhuliu raised a fucking eyebrow. 

“Do you really think someone who isn’t my sister would call me ‘Didi’ to my face without fearing consequences?” 

Wen Zhuliu saluted, “I’ll return to my station.” The second Wen, who Wen Xia had thrown into the room earlier, limped after Wen Zhuliu, likely to avoid being left alone with the mad family.

“Fuqin,” Wen Xu pointed his sword at his pseudo-aunt, eyes narrowed into slits, “If she is family, why did she hurt Wen Zhuliu?”  

The pseudo-sister froze, her painted lips opening and closing like a fish, “Xu-er? Is that you? I barely recognize you.”

He backed up, pulling Wen Chao behind him, sword raised to her face, “I don’t know you!” 

“You were just a few months old when…” She reached out for Wen Xu, who stepped back again. The wooden floor carpeted in red silk was an ocean between them. She shook her head, “I’m Wen Xia. Your Gū Ma.” 

 Wen Xu lowered his sword with a tight frown.  

“You weren’t there long enough for Xu-er to remember you, so how can he? You’re a stranger to him,” Ani thought out loud. 

Wen Xia’s face fell, “I wouldn’t expect you to.”   

“Gu Ma shouldn’t be sad!” Wen Chao interrupted, little fist still clutching his brother’s robe, “Eat sweets. It’ll fix everything.” 

Wen Xia burst into laughter. “Would you look at this adorable young man!” She said with the vigor of an aunt about to pinch Wen Chao’s cheeks off. “I would happily share some with my cutest Zhizi, of course if your Fuqin and Muqin allow me to stay…” 

As she turned towards Ani, as if to plead, she paused in front of the empty table. Ani opened her mouth to respond, but Wen Xia interrupted.

“Where’s A-Qui?” 

Wen Xu stiffened. Wen Chao gasped, tiny fists clenching as he buried his face in his brother’s robe. 

A-Qui? The name of –

“Where’s Yao LiQui!” Wen Xia demanded, her hands wrapping into white-knuckled fists, “Her seat is right there, why isn’t she here. Where is she?!” 

A cold pit bloomed in Ani’s chest, icicles puncturing her organs. Her vision swam, colors blurring together. Back home, her father’s seat remained at the table. Untouched. Waiting for an owner who never will sit on it again. 

“Muqin is dead.” Wen Xu replied in a flat tone.  

Wen Xia blinked. She stared at Wen Xu, looking him up and down as if checking that he is real. 

Her fists trembled so much the bracelets around her wrists clinked together, “When?” Her voice sounded strained. Weak. As if she couldn’t breathe. 

Wen Xu wavered. A hesitance to his lips as he opened and closed them.  

“Three years.” 

Wen Xia sharply inhaled, shoulders trembled. She raised a hand to cover her face. 

“Why am I finding out only now?” She asked. It was a quiet whisper, barely heard. 

Ani closed her open mouth. 

You’re asking the wrong person. 

 Wen Xia lowered her sleeve. A shiver flew down Ani’s spine. An ugly snarl etched on her face, nose flaring as she flashed her teeth. 

“Why am I finding out about this now?” She growled. Red eyes narrowed into slits. Right at Ani. Sweat prickled at the back of her neck and the palms of her hands. 

“Well, Ruohan? Why am I finding this out three years later?” Wen Xia gestured at Wen Xu. Her face twitched, teeth gnashing. 

Ani opened her mouth, but no words could come out. What could she say? She didn’t know what was going on in Wen Ruohan’s head!

“It’s been three fucking years, and you didn’t even send a note that my sworn sister was DEAD!” 

Sworn sister? Oh no. 

Ani’s silence only made Wen Xia’s brows twitch more.

“Why are you always like this? Why didn’t you tell me of Yao LiQui’s death! She wasn’t just your WIFE.”

 A crash followed: Wen Chao knocked over his bowl of noodles. His brown eyes wide, swimming with tears, looking between Wen Xia and Ani.Wen Xu rushed to him, pulling his tiny body close. 

Wen Xia didn’t seem to notice his distress, opening her mouth for more.

“Enough.” Ani interrupted Wen Xia’s tirade. 

“You think you can get out of this conversation just because you’re Sect Leader-?” 

Wen Xu held Wen Chao close, his face unreadable.Wen Chao’s shoulders trembled in quiet sobs. Wen Xia continued to glare at Ani as if they were the only ones in the room. 

“ENOUGH!” Ani shouted. Her cheeks felt like fire, “Wen Zhuliu!” 

Wen Xia ground her teeth and clenched her fists, opening her mouth to say more... 

“Not in front of the children,” Ani snapped, gesturing at a sobbing Wen Chao, and a stone faced Wen Xu. 

The door swung open as Wen Zhuliu walked in. Under his black sleeves, his hands emitted a red glow.  

Ani pointed at Wen Xia, “Escort her to her rooms, provide her with whatever she needs until my arrival.” 

Wen Xia’s jaw dropped. She moved to say something, but Wen Zhuliu saluted her, motioning her to follow him. 

Just as Wen Xia passed through the doorway, she paused. “You will keep your word, Ruohan?”  

“Yes.” Ani said. Best as I can.

The moment Wen Xia left, Wen Xu pried Wen Chao’s hands off his robes, no expression or emotion visible except for the tightness around his eyes. 

“Xu-ge? Xu-ge!” Wen Chao cried out. Hands grasped for his brother, but Wen Xu didn’t spare him a second glance. 

“Please excuse me, Fuqin, I wish to retire early.” 

Before Ani could even respond, he turned to leave in a billow of white and red robes.

Wen Chao remained standing behind his own table, one foot on the maroon pillow meant to cushion him, hand outstretched. 

“Xu-ge, don’t leave me.” He whispered. Red-rimmed eyes watered with tears that flowed on his blotchy cheeks. Their soup and noodles lay unfinished on their designated tables. 

Ani approached him, crouching down and pulling his small quivering body close. Wen Chao hiccuped into her shoulder. She rubbed circles on his back, heart aching with every shiver he made. 

Everyone just left him. 

No wonder he’s crying. 

“Let’s get you to bed. It was a long day.” Ani whispered, lifting Wen Chao into her arms, tucking his head, which only just was the size of her hand, into her shoulder. He sniffled a few times before glancing back up at her with enormous eyes. 

He’s so young.

“Baba went the wrong way.” He snickered. 

Ani cocked an eyebrow, “You sure Chao-er?” She tried. 

Wen Chao didn’t show a sign of confusion, so this must be the way Wen Ruohan referred to him. Or he didn’t care. Instead, his brows pinched, and he pouted, which was becoming one of his most signature expressions, “Yes Baba!” 

“How about you tell me where to go so I can take you to your room?” 

Wen Chao nodded, pointing at which halls to take, giggling whenever Ani took a wrong turn. Obediently, Ani turned around and walked down a hallway while bouncing Wen Chao in her arms. They passed by two hallways, one going to Ani’s room, the other heading elsewhere. Ani paused and Wen Chao shook his head. 

Two nannies lingered in the hall, most probably awaiting orders to take back Wen Chao after his dinner. Unlike Ani, who stood on the red carpeting in the center of the hall, the nannies stood along the sides, delicately balancing between stepping on the carpet and touching the walls. Both of the nannies stopped and saluted them.

“Does Sect Leader wish for us to take Young Master to his rooms?” 

Wen Chao tightened his hold around Ani’s neck. His face paled by a couple shades. 

“No need. I’ll take him to bed.” Ani dismissed. 

The nannies stared at her for a moment, both their mouths falling open before falling into deep bows, “As Sect Leader prefers.” 

Wen Chao’s grip relaxed. He laid his head against her shoulder, fingers tightening on the front of her robe. 

Further along the hall, they came to a fork of hallways going three different directions. Wen Chao pointed to the left. 

“My room.” 

Instead of heading left, Ani turned to the right hall. She prepared for Wen Chao to giggle and say she was going the wrong way. He didn’t. Instead, he looked about the hall with wide eyes and open mouth. 

“Baba.” He said, voice quiet and edged with hesitation, “you said never to come here.” 

Ani froze in her track, one foot still in the air. She eyed the hall. Unlike the rest of the Wen estate she had been in, dust lined the corners, and there was no carpeting. All that was missing were cobwebs to finish the ‘definitely haunted hallway of doom.’ There was even a creepy door towards the back of the hall, not even lanterns to illuminate it. Abandoned. Wen Chao clutched at her robes, eyes shooting to every corner of the hall like it too sent shivers down his spine. 

“Whoops, I wasn’t paying attention.” Ani whirled on her heels, walking back towards the fork. She bit her lip, holding Wen Chao closer, “let’s go.” 

As soon as they entered the correct room, Wen Chao’s knuckles turned white around her collar. He gave Ani big doe eyes. 

“I’ll stay and tuck you in. I won’t leave.” Ani rubbed circles on his back. His grip relaxed. 

When he lay in his bed, Ani kneeled by him. 

His hand shot up from his blanket, grabbing Ani’s sleeve, “Baba, stay. Don’t leave me. Don’t go away again.” 

A knot formed in Ani’s throat. 

She brushed his brown hair with her fingers, careful to not pull or scratch him with her nails, “I’ll wait until you fall asleep.” 

Dark eyes watched her. His hand, barely the size of her palm, held onto her sleeve. His breaths slowed, and he closed his eyes. 

He lost his mother three years ago. He lost his father two weeks ago. 

She took a sharp breath, her throat squeezing as if she wore a too tight scarf. 

Wen Xu and Wen Chao are orphans and they don’t know it. 

_________________________________________

After Wen Chao fell asleep, Ani took the center hallway to Wen Xu’s quarters to check on him.She stood before his chrysanthemum-motif door, her hand hesitating. 

Maybe he’s asleep? 

She paused, placing her ear on the door. It was quiet. Or at least even Wen Ruohan’s senses weren’t enough to discern any sound.

I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Give him some time to sleep and recover.

The same could not be said for Wen Xia – Ani had promised to meet her. 

As Ani walked back to the fork of hallways, Wen Zhuliu waited for her with a bandage plastered on his cheek. 

“Lady Wen requests that Sect leader meets with her before midnight.” 

I made a promise. 

Ani nodded and allowed Wen Zhuliu to escort her to Wen Ruohan’s long-lost sister. 

Every step echoed through the empty hall. The banners and paintings lining the walls sway with movement, and the pottery sitting on low tables merely winked in the low torch light illuminating their path. Somehow between the dinner, tucking Wen Chao to bed, and that hall, the ceiling shrunk, walls pressing in, as if stuck in an oversized trash compressor, like in Star Wars. 

What am I to say to Wen Xia? A few hours ago, I didn’t even know she existed. Much less why Wen Ruohan kept Madame Wen’s death a secret. There was no way Wen Xia wouldn’t ask. Here I am walking into something that could reveal me without a plan. 

She took a shaky breath, lungs rattling in her chest. 

I could be walking to my death. 

Ani rubbed her temples. Wen Zhuliu sent her a glance, eyebrow quirked “Does Sect Leader wish to delay your meeting?”   

She shook her head, signaling to him to not bother. Ani wiped her sweating palms on her robes. The lighting was too low to make out if she left streaks without alerting her companion. 

“Lady Wen’s rooms, Sect Leader.” 

Ani raised her hand to knock, right beside one of the carved butterflies that decorated the door. 

A symbol for good news, how ironic. 

She knocked twice for good luck. The door opened immediately. A pair of red eyes met her own, the edges wet as if recently in tears. They widened, and the door opened fully, revealing Wen Xia still in her simple dark robes. “You came, Ruohan.” 

She sounds surprised. 

“I said I would, so I did,” Ani replied.  Wen Xia gave her a tight half smile. 

“It’s good for one’s reputation to keep one’s promises.” She bowed with a fist to her chest.

There was definitely a private joke or jab that Ani was missing. 

This is going so well, right? 

Ani stepped into the massive, barren room.

Strange.

 The door closed behind her. With a silent gesture, Wen Xia signaled Ani to follow. They walked into an adjacent sitting room, a dark wood table sat between two multicolored woven mats. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting a rich orange hue on the prepared tea set.

Okay, Ani. We’re here to give Wen Ruohan’s long-lost sister the best explanation we can give and send her off.  

“How is your injury?” Wen Xia began. She held her chin as if paths of tears did not mark her cheeks, sitting straight with perfectly clasped hands on her lap. Ani’s mother would remark how she held herself with appropriate dignity and pride. 

“Recovering.” Ani replied. 

Wen Xia looked Ani up and down, a slight quirk in her brow, “You hide it well.” 

Does she know about Wen Ruohan’s Qi deviation? Is this a well-known fact, even? 

“They say you entered seclusion after recovering.” Wen Xia continued, lifting her own ceramic cup of tea. Like the door, blue butterflies decorated the cup, “but that’s a load of shit. I know you. You don’t do seclusion.” 

A snicker escaped Ani. She took a sip of her tea to avoid remarking. Wen Xia paused, looking down before back at Ani. Her expression, one of pride, fell away. She looked... worried.  

“What happened?” 

Good question. I woke up in the body of your brother to find out he somehow KOed himself a good decade before his fated demise. 

Ani took another sip of her tea, not answering how she wanted to, “Just Qi deviation. According to Physician Wen.” 

Wen Xia’s jaw dropped. 

… did I just say the wrong thing? Did I just fuck up?

“Just. Qi. Deviation?” Wen Xia shouted, slamming her cup, causing Ani to flinch. Her ceramic cup cracked, tea oozing onto the table,“Why are you always like this- it isn’t ‘Just a Qi Deviation!’ Didi!” 

Was this not the first time? Did Wen Ruohan have the tendency to not take his own injuries seriously? 

“Do you know how I found out?” Wen Xia asked, her voice a deep timbre. 

Ani sipped her tea, biting the edge of the cup because HOLY FUCK. 

“I found out from RUMORS!” She slammed her fist on the table, making the teapot and cups jump. “Not a word from you!”

I need to finish this quickly, before I’m castrated.   

“I couldn’t write you a letter: I was off conscious for two weeks. ” Ani said. 

Wen Xia’s eyes widened, “You were unconscious for two weeks?!” 

Fuck.

Wen Xia rubbed her face with her hands, groaning. 

“Rumors Ruohan. Fucking rumors. Nothing from you or anyone from the clan?!” 

Ani kept her silence. Wen Xia dropped her hands to her lap, her brows scrunching together, “The only letters I received were from A-Qui. Occasionally,” she paused, blinking several times, “then she stopped. I thought she gave up on me.” 

I’m sorry. I’m sure she had a good reason. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about A-Qui? If A-Qui could send me letters, why didn’t you?” She choked on the last words, her hands gripped the wood until it creaked. 

Holy fuck what do I say?

Sorry? Aliens kidnapped my brain and I forgot to write? 

Wen Xu ate a giant beetle and we had his stomach pumped?

 I’m not your brother? – anything but that one. 

“I couldn’t find you,” Ani lied. 

Wen Xia snorted; she bared her teeth, “Bullshit. Didn’t you hear what I just said? A-Qui sent me letters.” 

“I didn’t know about the letters.” 

A quiet gasp escaping her, “oh.” 

Tears welled up in Wen Xia’s eyes as she stared at the white fabric in her hands, “What happened? How did she die?” Her gaze met Ani’s, big and watery. Ani took in a sharp breath, pressure pushing behind her own eyes, “The last she wrote was about expecting. Please, A-Han, I beg. Kick me out tonight. I’ll leave. But please tell me what happened to you and Yao LiQui!” 

Expecting? As in pregnant? Then where was the–

Wen Xia continued, “It must be so hard raising a baby without its mother! Nannies can never replace a mother. Where is the child?” 

“There isn’t one.” Ani whispered. 

“There isn’t… A-Han!” She grasped Ani’s face in her hands. Her tears glittered under the lantern light, “oh Guanyin.” 

Ani didn’t realize how badly she was shaking until Wen Xia pulled her into an embrace. Wen Xia wasn’t still either. 

“I should have been there.” Wen Xia wept into Ani’s shoulder, “I should have been there. And I wasn’t. I’m so sorry, Didi.” 

More tears flooded down Ani’s cheeks. 

This is Wen Ruohan’s apology. And he will never get to hear it. 

Her grip around her not-sister tightened.  She should tell her to go. Go so Ani didn’t have one more person to worry about. 

I can’t. 

I shouldn’t.

“Where’s your robe?” Ani barely croaked out. 

Wen Xia lifted her head to look at her, brows pulled together, puzzlement illustrated. 

I cannot give you your resolution with your brother, but I can give you this.

“You expect to walk around in the Wen Sect in a black robe while being Wen Xia?”

Her lip trembled. She opened her mouth and closed it. Fresh tears poured from her eyes. 

“You want me to stay?” Wen Xia asked. 

Ani snorted, “Of course. The children need their Guma.” 

Before heading to bed, Ani paused before the third hallway. Torches still illuminated the barren hall with minimum paintings and other decorations. The missing third child.

[offaeandcreation]

Sleep-Deprived College Student Becomes World's Strongest Cultivator By Bullshit Means

Chapter 3: Meet the Wens

Summary: Ani comes face to face with her duties as Sect Leader. She finds herself horribly underprepared. But there is a solution. Will she take her destiny into her hands? Or will two bratty children and a surprise guest throw a wrench in her plans?

Chapter 2 (Prev)

Chapter 4 (Next)

Author’s Notes: a lot of 'real life references' Ani makes is a mixture of my research as well as my own life as an immigrant. However, and culturally Chinese peeps will notice, I am not Asian in any capacity. I will do my best to be respectful to Asian culture (Chinese in this case, since there are like 54? countries in Asia). I completely understand how much it means to see one's culture represented as I often find myself crying over books that depict my culture. I will do my very best. If you have any good sources, please don't hesitate to send them!

AO3

The rope on her wrists tightened, threatening her circulation.  

People in the familiar white and red robes licked with flames surrounded her. The entire sect had her tied to a pole in the center of a dark space. They encompassed her so entirely that they blocked her view of the walls. Ani’s voice caught in her throat. None of them had faces. 

“Imposter!”

“Imposter!” 

“Imposter!” 

The chant echoed in Ani’s ears. The wide berth between herself and her jailers thinned. Their empty faces peering into her own. 

“Incompetent fool.” One said. 

Someone pulled Ani’s short hair.

 Since when did Wen Ruohan have short hair- 

Her gaze fell to her lap. She wore the familiar white and red robes except the distance between her head and her legs was gone. Instead, the familiar swell on her chest was visible, and when she gazed up, her hands were small. 

Ani was in her original body. 

A boney hand grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at a faceless Wen. The only features they had were the burns instead of a face, and the noose of fire wrapped around their neck, “Look at what you done. You sentenced us all to ruin!” 

“What are you talking about? What’s happening?” Ani cried out. 

The figures loomed over her, white tainted in splotches of red. 

“Liar.” 

A single word, like a sword, cut through the noise with expert aim. The curtain of red and white pulled away to reveal her little brother. A-Li watched her with cold, dark eyes. Not an ounce of mischief within them.

“A-Li?” Ani said. Wanted to say. No sound came out, as if something had stolen her voice away.

The robes he wore fluttered. White and red, like the Wens,  “You’re a liar. And not a very good one. You couldn’t even graduate without shaming us.” 

Ani stared at him. She wanted to argue, tell him it wasn’t true. It was a mistake. She was about to fix it-

“You didn’t. Instead, you fell out of a window. Like a pathetic fool.” 

Tears welled up in Ani’s eyes, streaming down her cheeks. No words could come out, nothing.

There was light. A shift in the room, as if the floor itself was opening. Ani looked down. The floor gone. All she could see was blue sky… and concrete. 

“No! Wait! Are you going to-”  

The tightness of the ropes vanished, only the familiar tug of gravity pulled at her as she screamed. She reached for A-Li, for anyone- 

They turned away, floating like gods. 

Ani plunged into the ground below. 

________________

Ani woke up with a gasp. Blood pounded in her ears, and her heart beat stampeded like a horse. She was on the bed in plain red robes meant for sleeping. Except her covers were missing. 

The memories of the dream resurfaced. Chills ran up her arms and legs to where hairs stood on their ends. 

What are the consequences of discovery? Death? Imprisonment? Will they try to exorcize me since I’m ‘possessing Wen Ruohan?’ Would it mean I would die again? 

Ani shoved the thoughts aside before she panicked. She shouldn’t dwell on what ifs. She had to concentrate on what she needed to do to survive. 

She turned towards the room. Her jaw dropped. As if a claustrophobic bull got trapped, the tables nearest to her bed lay overturned, whatever contents they held spilled all over the floor. Fallen pottery made up a maze of broken ceramic. Drawers toppled on their sides. And on the far end of the room, her blankets wrapped around a random wooden pole, as if they ran from terror. 

Did I do this? 

The door flew open, and Ani was greeted by Physician Wen and Wen Zhuliu. They gazed about the room with wide eyes, before setting on Ani. 

The normal human reaction would be to tell them she was alright, or that a nightmare probably caused the mess, or remain silent as she tried to calm down. 

“Good morning,” she said. 

I'm glad my psych professor didn't just witness that. God knows what he'd have diagnosed me with.

The physician maneuvered through the rubble to approach Ani, occasionally pausing as if calculating the damage. Wen Zhuliu poked his head outside, voice quiet enough that she had trouble making out what he was saying. Meanwhile, the physician held out his hand, signaling Ani to give him her arm. He held her wrist. His frown deepened. 

Wen Zhuliu approached, followed by servants who began to clean the mess Ani made. His face was stormy, almost enraged. 

A sharp chill raced down Ani’s spine. 

He politely saluted Ani before turning to the physician, “Physician Wen.” 

Before he could continue speaking, the physician stopped him, “Later. Instead, take out the orange and brown bottle from the Medical kit.” 

Ani’s eyes narrowed. They were keeping something from her. This wasn’t the first time they were at odds in front of her. Technically, as their Sect Leader, she could order them to reveal it. 

Before she could comment, the physician stuffed a bottle into Ani’s hands. 

“Drink this. Qi stabilizing medication.” 

Ani popped open the cork and took a swig. The bitterness erupted in her throat. 

Yup, that’s medicine. 

“Physician Wen.” 

The physician glared at him. 

I swear this is worse than watching two rivals snipe at each other. 

“I had enough. Spit it out,” Ani interrupted their glaring contest. 

The physician rubbed his temples, “Sect Leader Wen, to be blunt, your Golden Core hasn’t completely stabilized. Every time you have an outburst, the spiritual energy tears it apart before it can fully mend. If you have another major Qi outburst, I fear you may not wake up for a time.” 

The ‘or at all’ was loud and unspoken. 

  So either Ani got herself killed by the dictates of the story she lived in, by being an incompetent idiot, or by being stressed out by her situation. 

The house was on fire and she was in it with only a cup of Joe, while pretending everything was fine. 

“It is by my recommendation that you avoid any strenuous activity for the time being.” The physician continued, completely unaware that Ani was mentally screaming, “I know that yesterday I stated to abstain from cultivation outside of meditation, but I very much recommend, Sect Leader, that you refrain from touching the accounting documents, teaching disciples, political dealings, night hunt management-”

Ani’s eyebrows slowly climbed to the top of her forehead as the physician continued listing everything under the sun. That was what Wen Ruohan was in charge of? She had to deal with administrative management? Teaching cultivation? Managing accounts? What? Weren’t there staff members that did that or was she there to keep them from committing fraud? All of that?  

“At least for a week or so. Do you wish to see your sons? Second Young Master was very adamant to see you-”

Without a thought, Ani shook her head, her mind spinning. 

How can I do any of this? How can I keep this sect functioning if this is all the duties expected of me? 

With a numbness, Ani sipped her medicine, nodding when spoken to, words going from one ear and out the other.

Content with Ani’s reaction, the physician saluted before pushing more medicine closer to her. 

“Three times a day, 3 spoonfuls,” he said before making his way towards the door, occasionally jumping aside between servants cleaning. 

Wen Zhuliu watched the physician for a moment, his brows furrowed and mouth formed in a thin line. He gave Ani a salute, “I will return, Sect Leader.”  

With a sharp turn, he left, following the physician. Two servants walked into Ani’s field of vision, saluting her. They were the same ones from the day before, familiar buns and facial expressions. 

This time they aren’t groveling on their knees. So everyone got the message? Good. 

“Would Sect Leader wish to be dressed?” They said in a chorus. 

This doesn’t get any less creepy. Is there an off button? 

Because of the mess, they took Ani to another room to be dressed. A temporary divider set up, this time the design was of a bamboo forest. As Ani kept her arms up so the servants could slip on robes on her, the noise of a conversation drifted through the wall. Luckily, the servants made no attempt to talk to her, so Ani needed only to strain to listen in. 

“-and if it doesn’t?” 

Wen Zhuliu? 

He only spoke a few times, but Ani could still recognize the low timbre of his voice, steel implied through the straightness of his back and the severity of his frown. 

“Give… if we spook-”

The physician must have lowered his voice because all Ani could make out is muffling. 

What are they talking about? What’s going on with me? Why right outside my room? 

“Do you hear something?” Ani asked the servants. 

The confused expressions on their faces illustrated that no, they couldn’t hear what was going on. 

Thank god. I don’t think I can afford rumors right now. 

Ani shook her head, muttering a nevermind under her breath. She leaned her head to the side, trying to catch more conversation. 

“- not acting himself… almost different-.” 

Ani froze, her limbs turning to stone. Cold sweat trickled down her neck. 

They noticed? 

There wasn’t a hesitance in the swish of fabric as the servants tied on her outer robes, the ones with red flames licking the edges of the collar and shoulders. The same flames that burst into life in her dream, melting the features of those who wore them into nothingness. 

If they noticed that my behavior is already divergent from the Wen Ruohan they know, it would become plain as day when they toss the paperwork at me. And cultivation. How do I cultivate? Do I order the sword up? Do I-

Ani bit her lip, ending the spiral before it ended with her breaking something else, and- 

“If you have another major Qi outburst, I fear you may not wake up for a time.” 

She needed to stay calm. When everyone left, she would sit down and figure out how to handle the situation. Just some time on her own to gather her bearings and use her head. 

“We’ve finished, Sect Leader.” 

Ani nodded in acknowledgement, dismissing them. By the time she left the side room, the servants have completely cleared up the bedroom, and they had removed most of the broken objects. Most probably replacements on the way. 

When something got broken back home, it would take at least half an hour to clean. How are they so efficient? 

The door opened, and Wen Zhuliu stepped in. He was as expressionless as before, but if this was a cartoon, there would be a dark cloud floating over his head. Clearly the conversation he had with the physician did not end the way he wanted it to. He saluted Ani before standing by the door with his arms behind his back. 

Uh? 

Do you need somethin’?

He didn’t say anything. Just stood there. Like a statue. 

If they were in the same room for long, would he be able to confirm that she wasn’t Wen Ruohan simply by the way she moved around, held herself? He already knew something was different.  

Ani turned around and walked out of the room. Footsteps echoed behind her. 

He is… following me! 

Ani stopped in a room, picked a random scroll from the shelf and stared at it. Wen Zhuliu stood by the doorway, occasionally glancing at her, expression unreadable. Ani bristled, glaring into the scroll. Will he take the hint to leave?

He did not. 

And he was watching her. 

Ani needed out. Now. 

She grumbled an ‘excuse me,’ before shutting the bathroom (technically not a bathroom considering the real bathing room was elsewhere) in Wen Zhuliu’s face. 

Simplistic swirl designs and a squat toilet greeted her. 

This is fine. I just have to get through this. Everything will be fine. 

The physician’s words echoed in her head, listing off all the duties expected of Sect Leader Wen. 

Accounting…

Cultivation…

Politics…

They noticed I’m different. That’s why Wen Zhuliu is monitoring me. 

This wasn’t fine. This wasn’t fine at all. How could Ani be expected to fill in shoes that were ten times the size of her feet? She barely managed to scramble together a graduation degree, much less manage an entire sect. 

She was completely over her own head and would cause the Sect to fall just by sheer incompetence. 

Her vision swam and Ani stuffed her hand into her mouth to keep any sobs from escaping. She stumbled forward, foot knocking on a nearby table. 

A crash sent a jolt through her. Pieces of the ceramic incense pot scattered all over the wooden floors. She couldn’t go two steps without making a mess- 

“Sect Leader? Is everything alright?” 

No! Leave me alone! 

Ani did not say that. She lied again, as usual, even when her throat wanted to strangle her. 

Why am I bothering? If I just leave, then- 

Ani paused. She slowly lifted her hands, staring at the pale palms before clenching them into fists. 

If Wen Ruohan isn’t in the Wen sect, there would be no war. In fact, someone would just replace him. Someone who knows how to handle the duties and keep the sect from going under. If I leave, no war, no chance in revealing myself, and no chance in it all falling apart, anyway.

The answer was right there. Right in front of her. 

She needed to leave, now. Shake off Wen Zhuliu, grab some things, and escape. 

Ani gazed about the tiny room. If she left through the door, then Wen Zhuliu would be sure to follow her and she wouldn’t be able to shake him off. Then leaving is impossible. So, she needed to find a way out of this room without using the door, and quietly. 

Her eyes fell to the floor, landing on the streaks of sunlight peeking through. The lower walls were covered in orientational grates, meant to let in light and air out the room. The designs were close enough to not be effective peeping holes, but to place these in, wouldn’t the structure be weaker? 

Ani got to her knees, long fingernails outlining the borders of the grates. 

Let’s see how strong these hands are. 

She slipped her fingers underneath one corner of the grates, the edges of the wood rough against callous fingertips. She pulled. The joints in her fingers turned white. 

Come on. Aren’t I in the body of the biggest dickus in the cultivation world? Would Wen Ruohan lose to a stupid piece of wood?!

The wood popped away from the wall, and she grinned. She inspected her fingers, rubbing the joints. The nails weren’t even damaged. A strength that would make any nail-enthusiast jealous. 

If Ani was in her old body, she would easily have fit through the hole. But with one look at the expanse of Wen Ruohan’s shoulders, it was clear she would get stuck. Like an oversized dog stuck in a cat door. Funny for cat videos. Not funny for a sect leader trying to escape incognito. 

The next grate was easier to remove. She peeked underneath. There were no windows or open walkways, except for her own. If she moved with care, she may be able to maneuver out of sight without raising Wen Zhuliu’s alarm. 

With trembling limbs, she slipped out. 

––––––––––––––

The first opening Ani saw was a window several feet from her. She may merely have minutes before Wen Zhuliu realized she was gone. 

Okay plan, get inside, grab useful stuff and make my way out. 

Ani peered into the room through the opening. The room was about the size of her bedroom. Shelves filled with scrolls lined the walls with weapons, such as swords and bows mounted between them. 

An office? 

Ani glanced over her shoulder before slipping inside. She stood face to face with a desk swamped in stacks of scrolls and paper. She sighed heavily. 

“Of course, who else’s.” 

Now, she just needed to find-

“Sect Leader.” 

Ani nearly jumped. She turned towards the door to find Wen Zhuliu. 

He found me. How did he find me so fast?!

Her hands began to tremble. 

Is my every attempt to live going to be thwarted? 

Images from the dream flashed through her mind. 

‘Incompetent fool.’

‘You sentenced us all to ruin!’

It was like she was floating. There should have been a pressure in her legs as she sat on the floor. Except, her entire vision swam, and skin tingled, as if uncertain of what sensation she should be feeling. There was noise, but her mind refused to process. 

I’ll ruin you all if I don’t escape. Please let me leave. Before it’s too late…

Suddenly, a sharp zap snapped Ani back into reality. Wen ZhuLiu held her shoulder, brows furrowed in concern. Upon their eyes meeting, he immediately let go and took a step back, bowing. 

“Apologies for touching without permission, Sect Leader. Your spiritual energy was fluctuating.”There was a sharp downturn to his brow, “you may punish me as you see fit.” 

Ani stared at him before glancing around the room. Previously, the office was neat. Now, bookshelves were moved from their spots. Papers and scrolls thrown about. Not much different from the mess in Wen Ruohan’s bedroom. If it wasn’t for him, an ox named WanLi An would have stampeded through the tea shop. 

“I nearly destroyed the office. What do you mean punish you?”  

Wen Zhuliu bowed.

“May I inspect your core Sect Leader, or should I send for the physician.” 

And possibly be stabbed with needles? No. Ew. 

Instead, she held out her arm. 

Wen Zhuliu’s hands glowed as he prodded, unlike the physician’s. It was something that made her mind itch. 

… wait…

“Your core stabilized. Sect Leader should consider calling Physician Wen. I fear I may harm your core instead if something happens.”

… wait…

Wen Zhuliu brushes his sleeves, revealing strange wrist and arm wrappings, covered in calligraphy. 

Most cultivators used talisman and swords. But this man had spells tied to his hands. Ani stared at his arms before looking back at the man in black. The man that stood before her. It was no ordinary cultivator. 

She facepalmed herself. 

Wen Zhuliu! The Core melting hand! How the fuck did I not realize this! 

The Core Melting Hand looked visibly concerned, more than just an eyebrow twitching. Meaning that Ani acted so out of character he fucking emoted. 

I’m so fucked. 

Not only can’t I escape him, he is probably one of the most op character in the book! 

She needed to think of something. Anything. A bone to throw. A stick. Yell fetch and take off in the other direction. Ani brushed off her robes. She had one more card to play. 

“Since clearly I cannot do my work,”

Because that’s why she totally was in the office. No lie. 

“Then someone must pick up the slack. The disciples most probably have been lazing around.” 

She gives Wen Zhuliu a pointed look. There is a slight pinch between his brows. He was catching on. 

“Do me the favor and make sure they are training. Why should this sect be ridiculed because of lack of training?” 

“They have instructors, Sect Leader.” 

Ani frowned at the bookshelf. So stubborn. No, she won’t back down. For this escape to go properly, then he needed to go. Now. 

“And what of it?” 

There was a pause, Wen Zhuliu seemed to consider her words. 

“Sect Leader, I fear that if I take my leave, and you experience another Qi outburst, I won’t be able to stabilize you.” 

True that. Why were his arguments so sound? How could Ani logically reply to this? 

I’m supposed to be Wen Ruohan. Since when did he function on logic? 

“Do I look like I need a babysitter? Am I that weak?” Ani sent her best glare at Wen Zhuliu. 

His back straightened, eyes widening slightly. There was a sliver of fear in his eyes. 

Bile rose up her throat. She wanted to vomit. 

“I order you to keep an eye on the disciples. No discussions.” 

There was a twitch to his mouth. 

“I’ll avoid working to keep your peace of mind.” 

Wen Zhuliu nodded before saluting. “I will return by the evening meal, Sect Leader.” And he left. 

THANK FUCK! 

Granted, she still wanted to throw up from speaking in such a manner. 

Never doing that again. 

__________________

In a world where zombies and monsters are as common as gnats, first and foremost, Ani needed to know how to defend herself. The best place to find information on cultivation-the library. 

There was little need for much discretion, so Ani didn’t hesitate to drag a servant aside for directions to the library. May it leave rumors? Yes. Did it matter? Nope. She was leaving. Why would it matter? 

Finally, she made it to a set of wooden doors decorated in gold sun motifs. She slipped inside. 

The biggest library Ani laid her eyes on was her university’s. Two floors dedicated to hundreds of books. The Wen sect library was equal in size, two floors filled with shelves. Though, unlike her school whose quality of shelves were simple, more just blocks of brown wood meant to hold books, the Wen Sect’s library clearly decided that it also wanted to somehow enter and win a fashion competition in upstate New York. She spotted the lacquered shelves covered in gold engravings and red paint lining the walls, holding up to six rows of books, with the occasional standalone shelf jutting out.

Now where were the cultivation manuals?

Ani perused the shelves, pulling out books and scrolls occasionally to look at their titles. 

“The Poetry of Wen ZhaoLi and Lai Yimo”

Not a cultivation manual. 

“Philosophy of Wen Mao.” 

Cool, but most definitely not a cultivation manual. 

Ani skipped a few shelves. 

Is there no marking system for which book goes where? 

The pretty shelves held no familiar symbols, nor did the bookshelves themselves did either. How was anything organized?

I’ll be in here all day if this continues! And then Wen Zhuliu will catch me!

Ani rubbed her temples, “Okay, think. There has got to be a master list.” 

Or someone willing to show me where they are? Not that rumors matter right now since I’m leaving. 

Ani began searching among the shelves for a librarian.  Or whoever was in charge of the books. There had to be someone…

Towards the side of the library, there was a dark table covered with books. If Ani leaned her head to the side, she could see a pair of legs sticking out from beneath the table. 

Someone studying? Maybe they know. 

Behind the wall of books laid a sleeping youth. Their face buried under the crook of their elbow, books completely surrounding them. One of them was open on the page called “Spiritual Weapon Types.” 

A student perhaps, overwhelmed by their studies?

 Ani walked over to take a closer look. 

The young student wore sun-crested robes, but their markings were different. Flame motifs wrapped around his collar and shoulders, unlike the uniforms donned by the servants and even Physician Wen. Someone of higher status? There was a grunt and the young student turned their head. Their bangs covered part of their face, but Ani could see the heavy dark bags under their eyes. 

Many times during her high school and college years, Ani would fall asleep surrounded by books. Her brain refused to absorb information, so she had little choice but to study until sunrise.

Solidarity kid, solidarity. 

Perhaps she should request their tutors be easier on the workload. The kid clearly needed a good night’s rest. As soon as she figured out their name, that was. 

Ani reached out to shake his shoulder when the youth jerked straight as a wire, smacking her in the face with his loose bun. 

“I’m awake!” They cried out.

Ani stumbled back a few steps, face stinging from receiving a good smack. She rubbed her nose.

 How the hell does getting slapped by a bun hurt so much? 

The youth whimpered, grabbing his head before turning around. His red eyes widened almost comically in horror.

“Fuqin!” He cried out, leaping out of his seat. 

Father?!

His foot caught on the floor, and he stumbled. Ani grabbed him before he fell. He stiffened in her grip, almost trembling. 

Was he just so tired he barely could stay still…

Or was he scared? 

Ani touched her upper lip. Her finger dotted in blood. The youth was looking at her with wide guild-ridden eyes. 

“Tis but a scratch. It’ll heal,” she said. 

She meant to deescalate the child’s stress, except it did the opposite. 

The boy shook like a leaf, saluting her. 

“My apologies, Fuqin. I did not mean-”

Fear? Was he afraid? Afraid of the basic human decency given towards him. It made Ani stew in anger. His own child. It may be too late to undo the damage that has been left behind by the no-good Wen Ruohan, but perhaps helping the boy would do some good? 

Ani shook her head, signaling Wen Ruohan’s son to stand. Was he perhaps Wen Chao? She took a good look at him. A youthful, handsome face, clean and well kept. There was even a presence about him, some sort of pressure - perhaps a sign of a cultivator. In the novel, Wen Chao was a greasy, disrespectful, immature child.  Hardly the vibe she was getting from this one. 

“It’s fine. You clearly were caught by surprise.” She said, contemplating her words. She wanted to make certain that the child did not feel he was in trouble. The dark circles under his eyes seemed more emphasized as his shoulders slumped.

 “When was the last time you went to bed?” 

The youth froze again, body stiffening like a wire. The same look A-Li made when she caught him sticking his hand into a cookie jar. 

“… last night, Fuqin.”

“Right, and I’m the queen of England,” Ani grumbled. 

The look of confusion on the youth’s face made Ani want to slap herself. 

Idiot. Why did I say THAT out loud? 

But the youth got the message, “I was up studying, Fuqin.” 

Ani crossed her arms, “so you weren’t sleeping last night then.”

The youth bowed his head. 

“You realize that if you do not sleep, you cannot process nor absorb information properly. Sleep is very important when you study, or else it will go from one ear and out the other.”

The youth frowned. Red eyes narrowed with a hint of steel. 

“It related to a subject that came up as a surprise. I did not expect it to take this long, Fuqin.”

So he has some bite. Oh, thank fuck. At least Wen Ruohan didn’t crush you like a bug. Maybe it isn’t too late for you. 

Ani sighed, breathing in and out, “Very well. At least get some rest. And I bet you skipped meals as well.”  

The youth paused, fiddling with his sleeves for a moment before straightening. 

“I’m happy to see Fuqin is awake. A-Chao and I were very worried.”  

There was a slight shimmer in his eye, almost vulnerable.

I should comfort him. 

“It was merely an extended nap.” 

The youth stared at her. His brows scrunching up, eyelids squeezing as if she was some unknown specimen. 

Don’t worry kid, I hate everything that comes out of my mouth too.  

The youth nodded, as if he understood everything. Or he just was trying to back out of the awkward moment. Ani gave him a moment of leeway. 

“Go get some rest. Then you can continue studying. I’ll have the servants keep the books waiting for you.” 

The youth saluted, “I’ll take my books to my rooms to not bother the staff, Fuqin. Thank you for your offer.” 

Before Ani could stop him, he grabbed his books and ran out of the library. 

Wait, I forgot to ask where the cultivation manuals are! 

__________________

Ani held the books closer to her body as she walked down the hall towards the main family’s wing.

She needed to get supplies like inconspicuous clothing and money. And a map. A map would be necessary so she wouldn’t get lost. 

“I’m happy to see Fuqin is awake.”

Ani bit her lip. She would be leaving children behind. But if the ruse didn’t last, then it wouldn’t matter. Wasn’t there a mother? Last time Ani checked, Wen Ruohan didn’t have a uterus, so there had to be a wife. She could take care of the kids.

Speaking of the wife where is she? If her husband just woke up, wouldn’t she be the first to see him? 

Rapid footfalls, fast and light, echoed in the hall, followed by several others. Ani sent a glance over her shoulder. 

“NOOOOOOOO!” The voice of a child screamed. 

Ani dashed towards the sound. She turned the corner nearly crashing into a tiny ball of white and red. The child bounced right off Ani’s leg and fell right onto their butt. Big brown eyes wide with confusion as they tried to make sense what just happened. 

“Second young master!” Several women ran into the hallway, their robes white marked with red trimmings. Servants? Nannies? Spotting Ani, they paled, a variety of shock illustrated in their features. They got onto their knees and bowed. 

“Greetings to Sect Leader,” they chorused.

Doesn’t get less creepy. Except I can’t say shit about it. 

The child who sat on the floor caught her attention. His hair was undone, clumps covered in what looked like grease. There was dirt all over his cheeks. Ani’s eyes landed on his uniform - red flame motifs surrounded his collar and shoulders, caked in dirt. 

Their eyes met. 

“Baba!!” The boy cried out with enough enthusiasm that Ani nearly dropped her books. He got to his feet, grabbing her leg. 

“BABA! BABA IS AWAKE!” 

Ani stared wide-eyed at the boy who hugged her leg. 

Was this… Wen Chao? 

In the novel, Wen Chao was an absolutely detestable son of a bitch who she wanted to strangle on many occasions. This tiny, hyper, ball of enthusiasm was Wen Chao?! 

Wen Chao had her robes in an iron grip, talking so fast he could compete in a talkathon, “Xu-ge went to the library. He didn’t come out in days! Days! Why didn’t you wake up earlier? The mean doctor didn’t let me see you. Screaming wakes up Xu-ge. Why not Baba?-“

“We apologize, Sect Leader.” One of the nannies saluted again before approaching, “Second Young Master is avoiding his bath.”

Wen Chao’s brown eyes widened, filling with rage. He hid behind Ani, glaring over the fold of her robes, “No baths!” 

… Dawwwwwwwww 

Poor nannies though. They have to deal with an unruly child who made it his life’s mission to avoid any form of washing and hygiene. Ani wrinkled her nose. He definitely needed a good scrubbing. She could smell him even though she was sure she was a good four times his height. 

 If Wen Chao didn’t listen to his nannies, perhaps he would listen to his father. Or in this case, Ani wearing his father’s body. 

“You should take a bath. It isn’t proper for you to be stinky.” 

Wen Chao stared at her, his adorable pout melting into a jaw drop. The look of utter betrayal in his expression. 

If I wasn’t supposed to be the evil-Wen Ruohan, I would be cooing and pinching his cheeks. 

“No!” He shook his head, glaring at her. 

Ani frowned. The nannies awkwardly stood back, watching with wide eyes. 

Forcing Wen Chao to take a bath will end in disaster. Maybe if she managed to bait him? Sometimes A-Li would willingly bathe for meringues…

“If you take a bath, we all will have dinner together,” Ani offered. 

Wen Chao paused, as if seriously considering. He even pouted and poked his cheek in concentration. The nannies looked hopeful. Ani spotted one of them praying. 

So cuteeeee. 

“BATH NOW!” Wen Chao ordered. 

There was a chorus of relieved sighs. The nannies flocked Wen Chao, before he changed his mind, probably. 

Ani wrinkled her nose and signaled them to stop. They stopped. 

Did anyone teach Wen Chao manners? No wonder he acted like a brat. 

“That’s not the proper way to ask for a bath. What are you missing?” 

Wen Chao frowned, thin eyebrows quirking to show a confused expression.  

DAMN YOU WEN RUOHAN. TEACH YOUR KID MANNERS!

“You shouldn’t yell for no reason, and you forgot to say please.”

The nannies stared at her. 

Excuse you, I’m doing you a favor here. 

“Why?” Wen Chao watched her with his big doe eyes, “They’re servants.” 

 Wait. Do we not say please to servants? Is that why I keep getting looks? Not because Wen Ruohan is suddenly less dickish? Did I just majorly fuck up? 

Wen Chao watched her as Ani considered her options. 

Might as well ride and die. 

“Because no one likes taking orders given in a grating manner.” Ani found herself saying, “think about it, if I asked you harshly to go clean up, you would most probably resent having to do so as opposed to being asked nicely. Less resentment, more likely to do it wholeheartedly.” 

Now that she stated it out loud, it did sound a bit manipulative…

Taking her word as gospel, Wen Chao cheerfully said “Mn,” before running back to his nannies and asking in a much more mild manner with a ‘please.’ 

Ani watched them salute her and leave. 

_______________________ 

It was the afternoon judging by the placement of the sun in the sky. Ani hurried back into the main rooms, clutching the manuals close. She tossed them onto the bed. 

One thing down.

She scrambled to the wooden closet, throwing a drawer open and inspecting its contents. If she rushed, she may be able to make it before Wen Zhuliu returned. 

 What were her next steps? Weapon. Clothes. Money- 

“If you take a bath, we all will have dinner together,”

Ani’s fingers froze in the tangle of colorful cloth. She stared at the white and red, colors matching the robes of the tired youth who worked far too hard, the flap of sleeves in little Wen Chao as he demanded for a bath. She promised to be there for dinner. 

Ani shook her head. Why did she say that? Making an empty promise she had no intention of keeping. Bile rose in her throat. 

It’s no matter. It’s safer for everyone if I wasn’t here. 

This particular drawer held nothing of use. She moved to the next one. This one looked promising. 

“I’m happy to see Fuqin is awake. A-Chao and I were very worried.”

Two children haven’t seen their father in weeks. The eldest working so much he hasn’t seen his brother, most probably trying to drown out his sorrow with books. So much like Ani herself spending hours studying. He looked so young. How old was he? A few years older than A-Li perhaps? There was still baby fat about his cheeks, but already in the process of fading. And little Wen Chao. Like A-Li, running away from baths, rather play an elongated game of hide and seek than so much as touch water. And he clutched at her robes, a single word portraying all the affection he held towards his father. 

And I’m planning to abandon them. What would they think? Think themselves unwanted because I was too afraid to try? 

Ani bonked her head against the wardrobe, groaning. 

And I promised one of them dinner, the other one most probably will come as well. They will sit there, waiting for a father who never comes. 

An empty chair, plate and chopsticks prepared. All three of them: mother, A-Li, and Ani, waiting for father to return home. Food as cold as the blizzard outside. Then the phone rang. 

A loud crack reverberated throughout the room. Ani slammed her fist into the wall. The wood splintered, giving way easily, more akin to clay. Tears welled in her eyes, the browns, whites, and reds of the room spun around and around. Dizzy, Ani lowered herself to the floor. 

I can’t do this to them. How could I? As their father. As now in the body of their father. 

But if I cannot complete my duties as their sect leader, then it won’t matter to them because I’d be dead. 

What am I to do? What do I choose?  

–––––––––––——————————-

“Xu-ge, I want to sit near Baba!” Wen Chao crossed his arms glaring at his elder brother.  

The youth, Wen Xu, going by what Wen Chao said, rolled his eyes, “You can’t. You are the youngest so you sit to my left.” 

Wen Chao crossed his arms with a pout. 

 Funny enough, she half expected Wen Zhuliu to be waiting outside her door. But alas, he was not, and she had to find the dining room herself. He didn’t seem the tardy type. 

No matter, I get to spend time with the children without him staring into my soul.

Ani finally made her presence known as she walked into the private dining room that doubled as a terrace. It was still located in the main family wing, clearly meant for more secluded meal times compared to the ones where the entire sect and clan attended.

“BABA!”

“Fuqin.”

Wen Chao cried out, while his brother saluted. 

The eldest frowned at his younger brother, before nudging him. Wen Chao made a face, looking about two seconds from sticking his tongue out before being nudged again by his brother with a pointed look. Wen Chao finally saluted, but not before stepping on his brother’s foot making the eldest hiss in pain. Ani snickered behind a sleeve. Wen Chao pointed his nose to the air as if he won while Wen Xu sighed.  

Sibling drama is universal. 

It was signaled time to eat. Towards the back of the room, there was an elevated stand with two tables, only one of which the servants were filling with food and platter. Ani took the elevated seat. Wen Xu and Wen Chao, the latter with a reminder of manners, sat in at their tables beside the elevated stand. 

The table beside Ani, meant for Wen Ruohan’s wife, was empty. 

Where is their mother? 

Her thoughts were interrupted when Wen Xu scolded Wen Chao about waiting for, “Fuqin to eat first, where are your manners!” 

Oh right, I’m the Wen Patriarch. 

Ani picked up the chopsticks that were placed by her bowl of noodles. Was there an etiquette? She knew how to use them since that was what she used at home but... 

She took a bite from the noodles, a familiar spice filling her mouth. 

One of the last meals she had with her father consisted of food redder than New Year’s decorations. A-Li and father laughed as she chugged milk down her throat, calling them traitors. Mother smiled, before taking out blessingly milder foods so Ani didn’t have to suffer because she wasn’t the inheritor of their ironclad genes. They all sat together, talking of the past week, plans for a possible vacation–a visit back to Beijing, back to the home Ani only recalled in her memories. She recalled smiling, saying how on the first day she wanted to visit Grandma’s grave. It has been too long. 

This was their last upbeat supper before- 

Ani had to pause, her chopsticks still holding noodles stained with the same red as her father’s cooking. Her heart raced, pounding in her ears.

I nearly left them too. Like father.  

“Fuqin.” 

Ani straightened at the title. The title of father. She looked up, acknowledging Wen Xu who watched her with scarlet eyes. Like the spice used to flavor their dishes. 

Wen Xu bit his lip, as if considering something. 

Nervous out of fear of my reaction? 

“May I look through some letters in your office? It is related to my research.” 

Ani blinked. On the list of possible ‘things that would piss off Wen Ruohan,’ looking over letters didn’t seem to be something to be nervous about. Now she was curious what Wen Xu spent countless nights on. 

“Very well. But don’t stay up holed in the library for days in a row.” 

Wen Xu pouted. He actually pouted. He lifted his sleeve, as if trying to cover his face, but Ani saw. And it was adorable. 

So he is capable of being bratty - HA! 

It appears that Wen Chao vehemently agreed as he crossed his arms and glared at Wen Xu, or at least the equivalent of one for a child that looked more akin to an angry marshmallow. Did Ani mention he was adorable? 

“Don’t stay in the library! It’s bad. The bookshelves are ghosts!” 

Wen Xu rolled his eyes, “bookshelves can’t be ghosts. Ghosts are dead humans. You are essentially saying bookshelves are human!” 

Wen Chao narrowed his eyes, stuffing a noodle into his mouth, dribbling sauce all over his chin, “that’s what they want you to think.”

Ani snorted. 

Wen Xu looked less amused, he jabbed his chopsticks at Wen Chao. “That is the definition of a ghost. If you studied, then you would know. A trip to the library would certainly fix that!”

“Don’t brandish your chopsticks, it’s impolite,” Ani said. Something she had to remind A-Li countless times. She froze when she processed the words that just came out of her mouth.

Wait, did I just… father him-? 

 The door opened, a loud slide that sent everyone’s gaze from one another. It was a Wen cultivator. His robes were more ornate with flame motifs along the lapel but none on the collar or shoulders. Higher status than the servants, but lower than the main family line.

He kowtowed, the tremor in his hands visible. 

Nervous?

Ani quirked a brow. 

What’s going on?

“My apologies for disturbing your meal Sect Leader Wen, but a person has been insistent on seeing you all afternoon and-“

There was a loud crash. A voice rang out, loud and clear: “What do you MEAN he is awake? WHY WASN’T I TOLD?!” 

Wen Chao startled, dropping his noodle bowl. Wen Xu looked at the door with alarm. 

Rapid footsteps echoed in the hall. 

The Wen cultivator rapidly, “All afternoon Master Wen Zhuliu has been trying to keep her-”

“Out of my WAY! I’m SEEING him NOW!” 

The voice was just outside the doorway. Ani jumped to her feet. She paused, realizing her hand was at her side, as if trying to grab something. A motion she saw in movies where someone tried to unsheathe their sword–a motion she didn’t consciously make. 

My sword is in my room! 

She had no weapon. And someone was coming. 

Several Wens flew into the room. One of them tripped on the carpet and fell. Wen Zhuliu, discernible in his black robes, skidded to a stop right before his fallen comrades. His robes were torn in several places and there was a minor gash on his arm.  

Oh no.

Ani grabbed Wen Chao who was the closest to the door and shoved him behind her. Better her than them. She didn’t belong here anyway.

“Oh please, just let me see that he is alive and not some stuffed skin bag,”  the voice replied. 

From the dark doorway, an outline of a figure stood in front of them. They took a step. In the light of the evening sun, a brown boot stepped into the room. Then they took another step. The light removed their veil, revealing a youthful face with strong, sharp, features. Black brows pinched together around crimson eyes. Raven locks pulled back into a bun with loose hair that billowed behind her, like a cape. She glared at the two Wens. 

“Stop.” Ani shouted, “If you are going to fight. Do it away from the children!” 

Whatever fight that was brewing between them fell away as the cultivator finally met her eyes. 

All antagonism fell away from her rock hardened expression, 

“DIDI!” She cried out in childish excitement. 

… Little brother?!  

The woman burst into laughter, pointing at Ani with a big grin, “Your scandalized expressions never get old.  Miss me?” She winked at Ani, giving a mischievous smirk.

WHo… who are YOU? Hello? Someone? Answer??? 

The cultivator, Wen Ruohan’s sister, got on her toes, as if trying to view what’s behind. 

“Oh! Look what we have here! My little nephews!” 

Wen Xu’s hand grip tightened on his sword, he watched her with wariness, “I’m sorry we never met. I don’t know-” 

Wen Chao interrupted his brother, “who are you?” He glared from behind Ani, but his nervousness was given away by how tightly his small fists clenched onto her robes. 

The cultivator blinked. 

“That’s because you never met me.” She paused. All the bravado which she basked herself in dissipated. As quickly as it had though, it was replaced with a smile, any sense of vulnerability stuffed away. 

“Your father and I are twins. I returned after hearing news of his… injury.”

TWINS? I’m sorry WHAT? What sort of FANFICTION BULLSHIT IS THIS? 

[offaeandcreation]

Young Maiden

Gift: @robininthelabyrinth  Based off the queer fusion of Feminine Mystique + Strange Definitions of Success 

TMW you art-student/theatre kid yourself to queerness

Summary: Wen Ruohan should have burnt it to ash, grounded these memories to dust, yet they come again and again. His teacher had told him all those decades ago, that only a true artist can never let go of their craft. He put the brush down and pulled out the wine.

CW: Not exactly a happy end, for now. Mentions of leering. He/Him Pronouns

Author’s Notes: Art is one of the six scholarly arts a young master learns. It is as masculine as carrying around a sword. It is the same here. Though I am not heavily editing this, this short fic holds a personal touch due to my own queerness/genderfluidity and love for art. 

AO3

Wen Ruohan hadn’t lifted a brush to paint in decades.

The urge remained, however. Every time he signed a document or noted a budget sheet, his fingers would slide against the smooth wood of the brush into position. Characters would mold into mountains of pitch-black ink, with the echoes of indigo and malachite speckled down the peaks until they became vibrant rivers.

The image of the last painting he ever made. Unfinished, half-burnt, and hidden away, deep in his private chambers. He should have kept it in the bonfire; stomped those memories to dust. Yet they come again and again, like ugly ink stains under his eyelids.

His teacher had told him forever ago that only a true artist can never let go of their craft.

He placed the brush down and pulled out the wine.

Wen Ruohan always had a taste for beauty. A true artist, and a true wealthy man. Why else would he fill his room with carefully selected pottery, inlaid colored glass, and paintings? Why else do the ornaments that hung from his belt and his guans be inlaid with gold and precious stones twisted with only the skill of a true master smith. Only the beautiful things, the good things, in the world he deserved.

He reached for them since when he was young, with whatever memories that remained from over a century ago. Buried his hands into his mother’s jewelry box, stuffed his hair with as many pins as he could, because they all glittered in a way that appealed to a child. Servants would chide, snatching the pins from his hair. He, then, could not understand why it was so bad to wear something pretty.

Even today, when only the immortals that hid away were older than he, Wen Ruohan felt that the jewelry allowed for a man of his station…lacked. That little itch reared its head when he prepared for banquets and conferences or dressed for a forgetful day of paperwork and cultivation.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was during one of those latter days when he happened upon his principal wife painting her face in the garden. Her hand still with every stroke, with a precise grace that architects would envy. Her colorful palette meant to only subtly underscore her features.

Wen Ruohan painted people before. Their complex forms and finicky features are as difficult as inking around cracks in rock and depicting gaping ravines surrounded by waterfalls. But instead of painting on rice paper, Madame Wen painted on her face. Like an artist.

Late one night, he pulled out a brush and paint and applied it to his face.

~~~~~~~~~~

Since then, Wen Ruohan played around with face-painting until dawn. Except now with proper make-up instead of the toxic paint that stained the skin. He thumbed the edge of his jaw, the line softened by powdering right to its outer edges. An illusion of soft facial features created by masking the shadows with a powder that absorbed light rather than reflected.

He pulled back his collar to brush off some particles, his pinkie catching on the padding slipped under his outer robes. Wen Ruohan snorted through his nose.

It wasn’t much different than the sleight-of-hand Clan Leaders played with their appearances really. Wen Ruohan’s true body type leaned more into skinny, even with cultivation lining his bones with muscle. With some shoulder padding and hidden heels, however, he could construct a striking silhouette that unnerved even men twice his size.

Wen Ruohan held out his brush, watching the powder glitter in the candlelight.

Suddenly, he remembered one of his mother’s pins. Since she rarely wore it, it made its way to the very bottom of her jewelry box. The deep blue stone glittered in the latent sun rays when he held it up for inspection, pale gold chain tassels clicking against his fingernails. Until it was snatched away and the box finally hidden from him for good.

Wen Ruohan thumbed the polished wood. Why not? He could easily disguise the purchases with gifts to his wife and concubine.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A few months passed with his late-night artistic experiments. Something…shifted. Some days, Wen Ruohan reached for his kit hidden in a locked drawer in his bedroom, only to remember it was morning. He would find himself avoiding reflective surfaces, a stubborn knot in his chest that refused to budge.

Some days, he wore his robes with pride and mirrors posed no thread. The makeup kit as if forgotten.

It was one of those busier evenings. The conference was right on the horizon by the month’s end, even if QishanWen wasn’t hosting this year. A whirlwind of documents and paperwork –  updated intelligence from his spies, the state of his Sect, which disciples were to accompany him, and the likes.

He hadn’t remembered whether it was one of those days where he couldn’t stand the mirror. With the sudden ache to leave his rooms, an impulsive indulged, he left Nightless City to the evening market within Qishan.

A store clerk, a young woman, waved at him.

“Is this Maiden in the search for jewelry?”

Maiden? Wen Ruohan brushed his cheek with a finger. Powder.

The reflection in the miniature bronze mirror on the stand revealed the very tips of the pins in his hair.

Oh. It must have been one of those days.

He muffled his “no thank you” with a sleeve to his mouth.  

The knot fluttered in his chest, like it grew wings. In a haze, Wen Ruohan continued wandering the market.

“Your servant wields such skill! Your huadian is beautiful.” A young maiden said to him.

He could not remember what he did, but the plum blossoms bloomed and Chao-er stuck branches into the grate on his window that morning.

 An older madam, hair long since grey, paused from her stand to scold, “Why are you alone! Where is your escort?”

He gestured at his sword, name hidden in a silk scarf, by his side. She frowned and shook her head, gesturing behind him.

Wen Ruohan was used to being gawked at. Fear and envy flashed in the eyes of fellow cultivators. With the occasional interested party – a certain saber-wielding sect leader came to mind.

The gazes sent his way now were far different. No longer nervousness in their eyes. He looked like a rich young maiden, perhaps unmarried and foolishly walking by her lonesome. Glances of indifference, like he was no different than the stranger beside him. Some gazes however made him tighten his grip on his sword. Like how some leered like they were undressing him with their eyes. Slipping his sword in their direction and meeting their eyes with a glare seemed to bat them away.

Some took his softer appearance as approachable, with offers of a sample of this snack, or this tea, always with ‘will this Maiden indulge-“, especially from clerks who barely could hide their blush.

Sleep potions and poisons didn’t work on him anyway, so what’s the harm in an indulgence.  

In the later hours, Wen Ruohan stepped into a restaurant rich enough to have a full-length reflective glass. Xu-er mentioned this particular place had excellent wine. When he peered his head in to see if he could spot a clerk, he glimpsed his own reflection. Make-up, hair pins, and light robes all in a glance. Something inside clicked into place.

Sometimes, he didn’t want to be a man.

Wen Ruohan’s lowlight trance, warmth, and elation plunged into a bone-deep freeze. He stared wide-eyed into the reflection, into an artificially softened face. Sharp-edged body hidden under rolling fabric and the cover of darkness.

The server was talking to him, calling him Young Maiden.

He turned on his heels and walked off. Of course, he didn’t run away. (He ran).

He burned the robes, presented the pins as late presents to his wife and concubine, and threw the makeup deep into a drawer far away from his bedroom.

What nonsense.

[offaeandcreation]

To Live Without Regrets

Summary: 

“If you regret killing me…” 

 Jin Guangyao could almost see Wen Ruohan leaning over him, his hair pouring down his shoulders like an ebony waterfall, a wide grin full of teeth, and scarlet eyes twinkling in false crinkles. 

The invisible grip tightened on his neck. 

“I’ll make you regret betraying me.” 

Five times Jin Guangyao refused to regret his choices and the one time he did.

Pairing: Wen Ruohan/Meng Yao | Jin Guangyao

WC: 4,100

Warnings: Gore, Mild Horror, Physical Abuse shown/mentioned/implied, Non-con on screen but not too detailed, Bullying, Dysfunctional Relationships, Daddy issues (non-sexual), Sexual Content Implied, 

AO3

1. 

Meng Yao saluted at his father’s feet. 

The way his mother taught him, correcting his posture by tapping his back or knees with the gentleness of a butterfly, whispering to relax here, bend more, bow his head, and look at the floor.

 He stared at his father’s dark boots, shiny leather with gold peony embroidery that glinted in the sun. The type that by stepping into too wet dirt would ruin them for good. An interesting choice considering they were at war.

“He’s too much a coward to walk on anything not laid in silk or gold.” A familiar voice sneered into his ear, “Did he even step into the battlefield?”

Meng Yao’s gaze flickered to the corpse laying beside him. Dirk caked silk white robes and the bloody stump where the head used to be no longer glistened with fresh blood. 

“I have brought Clan Leader Wen to you, Fu- “Meng Yao’s breath caught in his throat, “-Clan Leader Jin.” 

He received no response, and the rains did not grace the patch of dirt he stuck his nose into with any puddles to see his father’s reflection. 

“Where’s the head?” Jin Guangshan finally asked, “I recall asking specifically for it.” 

Only years of practice kept Meng Yao from brushing the Qiankun pouch attached to his hip, “… Lost in the chaos. My greatest apologies.” 

Wen Ruohan burst into laughter, “If he doesn’t accept you, will you suddenly find my head?”

Meng Yao’s lips thinned. The pouch tugged at his belt, as if someone suddenly dumped a case full of logs into it. The silence stretched for several beats.

“It’ll do.” Blessedly, Jin Guangshan said, “Stand up, Jin Guangyao.”

Meng Yao stared at the dirt caking his dull boots. Did he hear that right?

Jin Guangyao?  

Jin.

Jin Guangyao lifted his head. His father towered above him wearing gold silks and peonies, with only the vermillion mark between his brows glinting like a jewel. He flicked open his expensive fan, dripping in gold paint and priceless landscapes, and hid his unsmiling lips. 

Finally.

 Finally he could go to his mother’s grave and share the good news. Even with his cultivation lagging behind, even amid a deadly cultivators’ war, only with the gifts of wits and character his mother had granted him made her dream finally come true. 

For the first time in his life, Jin Guangyao’s eyes watered along as a genuine smile tugged at his lips. He gave into it with a salute, “This lowly son thanks Fuqin for his acknowledgement.” 

Jin Guangshan flinched.

“You’re dismissed.” He said as he waved his free hand in a half-hearted dismissal. And turned his back to him, “Someone, get rid of the corpse.”

“Was that really what you wanted all this time?” Wen Ruohan’s voice whispered. 

Jin Guangyao’s eyes glanced to the side, half expecting to see the former Clan Leader Wen standing beside him. Only to be greeted by the Jin disciples crowding around Wen Ruohan’s headless body, some sending the occasional glare at him while others muttered to themselves about burning the body, that he won’t be reincarnating anyway without his head. 

“Nothing I ever did could have replaced your desire to be acknowledged?”

Jin Guangyao bowed his head slightly to hide the movement of his lips, “It was my mother’s dream.” 

Wen Ruohan cackled, his ringing in both of Jin Guangyao’s ears even when he turned his head, “You really fooled me then into thinking I meant something to you. Why bother with the pretense now?”

 The Qiankun pouch pulsed with barely concealed resentment. 

Jin Guangyao clapped the pouch, “Stop throwing a tantrum.” 

Ice surrounded Jin Guangyao’s throat, like a pair of cold, clawed hands around like a scarf. He could barely swallow…

“Let’s make a wager.” Wen Ruohan crooned, “If you regret killing me…” 

 It was too easy to imagine Wen Ruohan leaning over him, his hair pouring down his shoulders like an ebony waterfall, scarlet eyes twinkling in false crinkles, and a wide grin full of pearl-white teeth. 

The invisible grip tightened on his neck. 

“I’ll make you regret betraying me.” 

 _____________________

2. 

Jin Guangyao barely suppressed a hiss as he sewed the gash on his forehead closed. Dark blood oozed in droplets, streaming down his face and occasionally into his right eye. Violet bruises bloomed around the gash. Did Madame Jin really need to throw an iron teapot at him? 

“If you haven’t used up all your spiritual energy to stay up in the past fortnight, you would have enough to prevent those ugly bruises.” 

Jin Guangyao’s gaze flickered to the far side of his bronze mirror. A soft outline of Wen Ruohan’s head bobbled where his unused pillow on his bed was. The rest of his body would never appear, probably because Jin Guangyao only kept his head. 

“You made a promise not to play with my vision.” Jin Guangyao snarled, wiping away the wayward blood that once again seemed utterly determined to blind him in one eye. 

“Oho~ Did you just snap at me?” Wen Ruohan taunted. The faint outline shimmered and grew as if he moved from a lying to a sitting position. If he had his body, that was, “You must be exhausted.” 

Jin Guangyao ignored him. Having finished the last of the stitching, he considered his makeup kit. Makeup could risk infecting the wound, and the benefits didn’t seem to outweigh the negatives. Even applying several layers only hid the worst of the purple underneath his eyes. 

Would his cap be enough? Or the way it sat on his head also aggravate the wound? 

The bronze mirror reflected the hazy outline of Wen Ruohan’s head, appearing just several cun away from Jin Guangyao’s ear. His hands, if he had any, would sit on his shoulders, pale fingers settled like butterflies. 

“When was the last time you walked around so exhausted you could fall over? When was the last time you walked without malice-born bruises?” 

The answer danced on Jin Guangyao’s tongue. Like sweet Tanghulu given to a starving child.

The body-less head smiled at him in the mirror, “Was this all worth it?”

“Madame Jin is mourning.” Jin Guangyao interrupted. “She lost her son, and she is lashing out.” 

The outlines around Wen Ruohan’s mouth pinched. A full-lipped pout that only a toddler could compete with, “By such logic, aren’t you implying he was dead since you entered Jinlin Tai? Wouldn’t his death mean she will throw heavier objects at you? By the end of the year, people would mistake you for a man-shaped bruise.”

Jin Guangyao closes the mirror with a loud clunk, “Fuqin wishes to have Xue Yang experiment with your body. See it turn into a fierce corpse.” 

Wen Ruohan went quiet. 

“You were once a powerful cultivator. It would be a shame to let that go to waste,” He continues as if reciting a textbook. “The resentment you must have from being backstabbed should be enough to compete with Wen Qionglin.” 

The candle on his desk flickered as resentment poured from the ghost. It flicked some of Jin Guangyao’s loose hair, but the piles of papers on his desk remained undisturbed. 

If Wen Ruohan had his material body, he would be growling. 

“I talked him out of it,” Jin Guangyao said, replacing the medical kit into its proper place, “Your head is missing and Xue Yang’s pins work through the temples, for now.” 

“Is that a threat?” Wen Ruohan hisses. 

Jin Guangyao gave a one-sided shrug. Dropping the conversation. He reached for the towering pile of paperwork sitting since dawn- no, now several piles. Someone had divided up the pile, if haphazardly, into several. 

A ghost of a smile flickered on Jin Guangyao’s lips, “You managed not to knock them off the desk this time.”

“See if I do you such a favor again.” 

He snorted, “Then don’t come to me complaining about being bored.” 

Wen Ruohan huffed and floated back towards the bed. 

 If Wen Ruohan was in his living body, he’d carry his chin up high with the most over-the-top grouch that only a spoiled mistress could make. 

Many times, Jin Guangyao made the mistake of turning his head to look for something that wasn’t there. 

Such a shame fierce corpses couldn’t smile. 

“You know, it suddenly occurred to me… do you watch over that brat because you miss the Fire Palace so-” 

“Enough or I will change my mind about Wen Qionglin.” 

______________________

3. 

“Son of a whore!” 

Jin Guangyao’s hands tremble beneath his weight. A weight he could barely feel. It was as if Nie Mingjue had indeed unleashed Baxia and carved out all his innards, leaving nothing but a gaping emptiness with only the barest layer of his skin left. 

“Jin Guangyao!” 

Colors flood around him. A flash of a blade. Whisks of white. 

“Guangyao!” 

Sudden darkness, copper in his mouth.

“A-Yao!” 

Jin Guangyao flinched at Wen Ruohan’s voice. The warm glow of torches outlined the empty sitting room. He stumbled forward, falling to his knees. The gold pillow sank underneath his weight, not enough to cushion the dull vibrating pain that clawed up and down his legs. 

“A-Yao.” Wen Ruohan’s voice said. Quiet. Soft. 

Jin Guangyao felt his mouth move, words that used to come easily, like blinking. 

He kicked him down the stairs. 

He called him a son of a whore. 

He tried to kill him.

Again.

“A-Yao. Breathe.” 

Air flooded down his throat. Jin Guangyao gasped and choked. Bile licked the back of his throat. 

“A-Yao. No one is here. That ungrateful brat can’t hurt you because he isn’t here.” 

Soft outlines materialized in the air in front of him. Like wisps of light blue smoke. This time, instead of the smoke-like patches, Wen Ruohan fully formed his features. A solemn expression painted with the finesse of an artist. 

Jin Guangyao’s shoulders sank, and he collapsed against the table. His breath came out sharp and ragged.

“Like them,” He wheezed, “he was like them all along.” 

Wen Ruohan watched him, his mouth too unstable to make out its position, expression twitching between curiosity, concern, and even a flash of vindication, “Oho, what do you mean?” 

Laughter bubbled out of Jin Guangyao. It came out soundless, but he still doubled over, unable to take a breath, “Won’t you just ask the question, Ruohan? Ask if I regret it all? Regret killing you to save him?” 

He expected a smile to bloom on Wen Ruohan’s face. Now was the opportune time to ask about the wager. And maybe Jin Guangyao would say- 

“No.” The words formed on his lips with ease. Along with the placid smile he long learned to wear. 

Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes, “And you went and answered it yourself. Why bother asking?”

“Nie Mingjue acted kindly towards me once before. Defended my mother by shutting down the insults.” 

When they called him a bastard. A son of a whore. 

“And then he went and did it himself,” Wen Ruohan bared his teeth, “you did so much for him and he repays you like this? Ungrateful little brat. Hooting his own faux morality until he is no less than a rabid dog that needs to be put down.” 

Jin Guangyao bowed his head. The table he leaned on rattled. 

Wen Ruohan hovered by him. 

He didn’t ask him why he didn’t regret it.  

-

Weeks later, Wen Ruohan kept a lookout as Jin Guangyao snuck into the secret underground library at the Cloud Recesses. 

“Are you going through with this?” Wen Ruohan asked him once Jin Guangyao burned the sheet music in the fireplace. 

Jin Guangyao looked up from the flames. His face was lax of all emotion. Only the staccato of his heartbeat in his ribcage hinted at the swirl of unease he hid deep in his chest, “I was under the impression this would entertain you.” 

“Try again.” 

Jin Guangyao breathed in, then out. His fingers threaded through his hair. A tick that he thought he long had gotten rid of, “It’s for his own good. Imagine how much he could hurt Huaisang with the way he is going. Hurt himself. It’s best to put an end to his suffering.” 

Wen Ruohan hovered in front of him, an artful brow shooting upwards, “And here I was thinking you were getting payback.” 

“It’s for his own good,” Jin Guangyao repeated.

“Just say you regret saving him and want his life as payment for his abuse, A-Yao.” 

________________________________________________________

4.  

His mother thought of every excuse for his father for why he had never returned. 

“He must be busy,” she whispered one night after entertaining ten men, the bruises still fresh on her throat, “that’s why he hasn’t come for you.” 

“He’ll come soon.” She said, fingering the pearl button as the illness stole the meat from her every limb, not even sparing the soft curves of her cheeks.

 “A matter must have taken his attention.” 

She waited.

She died waiting.

In the end, when he replaced his family name with Jin, Jin Guangyao watched the man he called father shirk his duties onto his lap so he could run off to the next brothel. 

He watched his father from the corner of his eye, waiting for the warmth that his mother promised. The same softness that crinkled around his eyes back when Zixuan was in the room. But when Jin Guangyao spoke to him, Jin Guangshan looked more interested in the ‘antique’ vase in the corner of his office.

Wen Ruohan raised his eyebrow at him after one such meeting.  

Jin Guangyao waved him off, “I got all I wanted from him: acknowledgement. What else do I need from him?” 

“Whatever helps you sleep better,” He grinned at him. 

 “You may comfort yourself with that thought.” Jin Guangyao replied.

-

“Meng Shi was a famous entertainer,” Jin Guangshan said to a prostitute near an open window of the brothel, “but as a literate woman, she would be too much trouble.”

Jin Guangyao’s smile froze.  

“What of her son?” The prostitute asked. Perhaps the one warming his lap. 

“Forget it.” He hand-waved. 

Xue Yang roared with laughter beside him, cursing out words that blended perfectly with the stampede of the crowds in the bustling red district of Lanling city. 

Jin Guangyao’s smile remained pasted as he entered the brothel to retrieve Jin Guangshan. It remained on his face all the way back to Jinlin Tai, even with Xue Yang’s prods and Clan Leader Jin’s drunken rants.

He started trembling the moment he stepped into his room. His favorite clay pot rattled when he tried to lift it over the hot coals. 

“Why are you acting so surprised?” Wen Ruohan materialized across from him. The ghostly sway of his hair blended with the curl of smoke from the coals. He wore a thin smile, as fake as the trinket Jin Guangyao’s “father” gave his mother.

“I’m not in the mood for your antics,” Jin Guangyao said, replacing the pot on the coals again. The top nearly popped off with how hard it rattled. 

Wen Ruohan ignored him, “You knew he would crush you beneath his heel the first chance he got.” 

Jin Guangyao’s hand tightened around the handle. 

“I thought you sought acknowledgement for your mother’s dream?” Wen Ruohan’s head tilted to the side, as if to consider.

“Wen Ruohan,” he warned. The edges of his vision blurred in the deep ochres of the waning sun and a tint of light blue of Wen Ruohan’s ghostly form. 

Blue pupils, long since unblinking, met his. “You wanted him to love you.” 

“This is your last warning,” Jin Guangyao hissed through his teeth.

“You know what confuses me?” Wen Ruohan ignored him, “You weeped how your father kicked you down all of Jinlin Tai’s stairs when you first came groveling for acknowledgement. And now you are upset that he doesn’t love you when you forced him to give you the Jin name. 

Why would you assume he would start loving you when all he saw was a waste of space?” 

Jin Guangyao slammed his fist on the table. A sharp spike of pain flew up his arm. The teapot barely budged; it shook more when he held it, “My mother died waiting for him!” 

And he never weeped.  

Wen Ruohan watched him with a blank expression, “He never was going to come back.” 

Jin Guangyao swung his head towards the ceiling. The solid wood of the dark table anchored him from to the tempest of fire brewing deep in his chest. A tear dripped down his cheek.

 “You want me to admit I regret killing you? That I should have known from the start that the acknowledgment from my sorry excuse of a father was a mistake.” 

Jin Guangyao smiled at Wen Ruohan. His cheeks aching from tension, “You know, I have a theory, Clan Leader.” 

Wen Ruohan’s eyes narrowed, searching him. It only made Jin Guangyao smile wider. “What you really want is me to acknowledge I loved you. That it all wasn’t an act. That you were more than a stepping stone.”   

Wen Ruohan’s nose flared. The ghostly smoke swirled, like ink dropped into water and then stirred, to the point only a cloud of blue floated in the place of his head.

Jin Guangyao waited patiently, pouring hot water from the clay teapot into the tea leaves he prepared. The handle a pleasant burn in his palm. 

Only after he replaced the tea leaves did he continue, “I planned to kill you from the start. Not once did I reconsider.” He glanced at the ghost. 

Wen Ruohan’s features slowly returned, rough patches where the eyes and mouth should have been, but still placed with an artist’s eye. It betrayed no expression, blank like in one of his meetings, or when the news came of loss after loss after loss. 

“And I loved you. I didn’t fake a thing.” Jin Guangyao took a sip before reaching for the Qiankun pouch at his side.

“Men- Jin Guangyao, what are you doing?” Wen Ruohan shot forward, his head bobbing above the smoking tea. 

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be surprised,” Jin Guangyao said as he untied his belt, “Fuqin is trash who I shouldn’t have expected better from. And do you know what you do with trash, Clan Leader Wen?” 

Wen Ruohan’s eyes bulged as he removed his decapitated head from the pouch. Eyes closed with every lash in place and mouth relaxed. Outside the pallid skin, sunken cheeks, and missing body, it almost looked as if he were asleep. Even his hair barely tangled—the preservation talismans did their job. 

“Throw it out.” 

_

“That was what I told you.” Wen Ruohan muttered later that evening, “I told you to throw trash out.”

Jin Guangyao smiled at the dark ceiling. The only downside of a fierce corpse head companion is the lack of body heat, “To be exact, you said to burn trash so it may be reborn from the ashes.” 

“So I did. Were you planning on trying that with my head?”

 Jin Guangyao huffed, “I considered. But I had a better idea—let the flames cleanse the dirt so a temple could be built instead.” 

Around his mother’s grave. And Guanyin shaped to her likeness so she may reincarnate into a better life. 

Wen Ruohan floated in front of him, a blue wisp of cold fire in the darkness of night, “Do you regret it?”

Jin Guangyao laughed. Deep and loud. 

He didn’t know. 

_______________________________________________________

5.

“Do you like it, Fuqin?” Jin Guangyao taunted from behind the curtain. 

The parade of ugly, old prostitutes sat on Jin Guangshan’s lap, working like they would any client. Rivers of tears poured down his father’s face with his wails muffled by the cloth muzzle tied securely around his mouth. 

“You ask for prostitutes almost every day,” Jin Guangyao continued, “I got you so many. I did as you asked. Aren’t you happy?” 

  A bonfire lit in his veins, pulsing in his ears like war drums.

His mother suffered because of him. 

He suffered because of him. 

Blood, sweat and tears just to get his acknowledgment. 

Was it a sin for a child to want their father’s love? 

Blood. Sweat. And tears. 

For a man who wouldn’t spare them another glance. 

And now, Jin Guangshan, bare-boned and sick, tied to the bed, with his legs splayed out like his mother was forced to do for years. But even if every prostitute in the room sat on his lap one thousand times, it would only be the fraction of the men his mother had to entertain. 

What a pathetic, weak little man. 

Wen Ruohan roared with laughter beside him. Watching the spectacle as he would on a good day at the Fire Palace.  

“I always loved your taste in punishments.” He wheezed, “Claim to only humor me back then or not, but truly, your ideas are something else.”

A smile dripping venom bloomed on Jin Guangyao’s face. A thrill of pure glee, hot like molten metal, bubbled in his chest. 

He gave his “father” so many chances. Who else is he to blame but himself? 

Wen Ruohan’s eyes met Jin Guangyao’s, flashing like rays of a bright star, “No regrets?” 

Jin Guangyao laughed at him. A deep belly laugh that only Wen Ruohan could stir within him. “Regrets? Who in this world has time for regrets? I have a sect to run and a future to strive for. He’s as good as dead.” He grinned so much it hurt, “I can live now!” 

Wen Ruohan paused, his own smile frozen on his face, “What of Nightless City? Weren’t you free then?” 

“Only if I had your fickle regard,” The words spilled out so easily, as if Jin Guangyao was drunk, “What if you changed your mind about me? What if you found out I was a spy? You would kill me.” 

Wen Ruohan’s good humor disappeared. His eyes, now only strokes of blue, bore into his, a seriousness that rarely graced his features.

 “I knew.” 

Jin Guangyao balked, the glee dissipating, leaving behind a gaping hole in his chest. 

“Since when-” 

One prostitute interrupted with a scream, “He’s dead!” 

_____________________________________________________________________

+1 

Wen Ruohan didn’t dare appear during the chaos at Guanyin Temple. Dealing with a demonic cultivator and Nie Mingjue’s reanimated corpse was far too risky. And it wasn’t like he could do much, with not even his entire soul intact.

But then, after, it was too late. 

“You wouldn’t let me live!” Jin Guangyao shouted at Lan Xichen before running towards the coffin, “Fuck you, Nie Mingjue, you think I’m scared of you?”

And in the next instance, Nie Mingjue’s corpse snapped his neck. 

The seal on the coffin holding their corpses would last a hundred years. They wouldn’t be able to reincarnate, souls trapped to fight one another until one such day they could pass.

 With his head still hidden in the Qiankun pouch by Jin Guangyao’s side, neither could Wen Ruohan. 

Perhaps it is due to this that Wen Ruohan passed through the wards unchallenged. He floated over the coffin, yet to be buried. 

“A-Yao?”

No response. 

“The wager is off.” He continued, “I won’t make you regret betraying me. I promise.” 

No response. 

“It shouldn’t have ended this way. Come out so we can complain about it until they deem us ready to reincarnate together. I always keep my promises. You can come out now.”

Silence. 

No, not quite. Just the groans of two fierce corpses buried below. 

A tug pulled his attention, so slight he almost missed it.

Just by the coffin right on the outside, flicks of resentment fluttered around a stain of blood. Wen Ruohan floated closer. 

Two characters scribbled on the side of the coffin. As if in a rush.

Regret. 

Wen Ruohan settled by the coffin, right by the characters. He stared out through the broken door, watching the sky change from pitch black to light blue. 

“You know, A-Yao… I never wanted to win.”

[offaeandcreation]

Surprise Yogurt Reunions

Summary: Su Minshan nearly throws hands with a short-short, lipstick-wearing stranger in the yogurt section, and Meng Yao reunites with someone he least expected.

Pairing: Past Wen Ruohan and Meng Yao (Vague), Meng Yao and Su Minshan, 

Part of a series: Reverse Transmigration

AO3

It really all began in the dairy aisle. Right in front of the yogurt fridge, with Su Minshan timing a grocer hogging the space in short shorts. He looked at the stopwatch app on his ‘mobile device’ while tapping his foot. If cultivation still existed, the shiny white tile would have long cracked.

The number on the timer rolled to: 3:00. 

“Hey!” Su Minshan snapped at the yogurt stonewaller, “If you want to show off your ass, don’t do it in front of the yogurt aisle!” He even crossed his arms. Cultivation or not, the reawakening had oh-so graciously allowed him to keep his strength and form. Though to a more ‘commoner’ extent. 

The hogger turned around, face hidden behind cat-eye sunglasses and red lipstick. They smiled, all blinding wide and vicious, somehow too reminiscent of those rich, well-regarded cultivators Su Minshan often dreamed of punching in the face. The only thing keeping him from giving into temptation in his ‘first’ life and right this very instance were social obligations, and a very upset Meng Yao. 

“Stop staring at my ass, then.” They replied. The way their smirk remained, Su Minshan knew, that they knew, that he knew, that they most definitely will not hurry up because ‘fuck you.’ And his instinct was very much confirmed by the hogger thumbing three different miniature yogurt flavors, all dairy-free and meant for a single serving as if their entire existence depended on it. With long, painted nails on top of that. Bastard.  

Su Minshan bit back a snarl and reached for his phone, already considering that maybe jail and bail on his record, for once, just might be worth it if there was one less yogurt-hogging, short-short-wearing jackass in the grocery store. 

“Minshan?” 

Meng Yao came down the aisle like the blessed Goddess of Mercy, with a shopping cart half-filled with vegetables and on-sale rice and noodles. 

“Jin-zh-“ Su Minshan corrected himself, “Meng Yao-ge!” He reached him, gesturing towards that yogurt hogger, “I couldn’t get the yogurt yet because of this-”

“A-Yao?” A voice rasped from behind.

The short-shorts-wearing hogger materialized in front of their cart with their metal basket hanging on their elbow. They lifted their sunglasses, revealing a youthful face, all soft cheeks, delicate brows, and red eyes.  

Meng Yao froze, skin paling by so many shades he might be as white as snow. Just like when Chifeng-zun broke through the door that fateful night at the Guanyin temple. 

Su Minshan’s hands curled into fists. Nevermind. Jail was absolutely worth it. Especially if it is some pretty-faced bastard—they deserved black eyes the most.

“Ruohan.” Meng Yao breathed. His hands clutched the cart so tightly the knuckles turned white. 

The familiarity of the name clicked.  

“Wait.” Su Minshan squinted back at the hogger, “Ruohan? The Wen Ruohan?!” 

As in the tyrant, the entire cultivation world banded together to just barely dethrone. The man Meng Yao killed with trickery, after years of earning his good graces while being a spy. THIS WEN RUOHAN?!

Wen Ruohan grinned, all teeth and no mirth. His red lipstick like blood. Perhaps he even awoke with it on, like the flesh he tore out with his teeth in that damn Fire Palace,“And who is this puppy, A-Yao?”

Meng Yao caught the edge of Su Minshan’s sleeve, sharply tugging his arm back. 

Why? So he didn’t punch this bastard in the face?  

“He is my friend. Su Minshan. You haven’t met.” 

“Good.” Su Minshan hissed. 

Wen Ruohan’s smile transformed into a pout, deciding that he indeed would give Su Minshan more than a passing glance. “First that Nie Mingjue, then this one. Or am I missing a few skeletons?” 

Meng Yao gave a half-smile, one that crinkled his eyes but was as false as the veneer on the most affordable of furniture these days,“I’m pleased to see you are doing well, Wen Ruohan.”

 Meng Yao bowed his head slightly, his mask of Jin Guangyao firmly in place.  

Su Minshan twitched. Meng Yao’s nails dug into his forearm. 

Wen Ruohan’s pout melted away. The bright red in his eyes dull like dusty, old garnets at the back of a drawer, “so it’s like that then.” 

He turned away, long hair slipping over his shoulder as he replaced his sunglasses. “I hoped then you would choose differently. But perhaps it was I who was the fool, wishing to see what was never there.” 

Wen Ruohan walked away without saying goodbye, disappearing into another aisle with his clicking boots, short-shorts, and no yogurt. 

If Su Minshan was a lesser man, he would have made a rude gesture. 

“Let’s get out of here. If he approaches again, I’ll sock him for you…” Su Minshan trailed off at Meng Yao’s trembling lip. 

“He knew?” Meng Yao whispered, the whites of his eyes turning slowly red, “he knew the entire time?” 

Su Minshan hoped the grocery store stocked up on lemon sorbet, and that they never saw Wen Ruohan ever again. Or not even Meng Yao tying his wrists together would stop him from kicking the bastard.

[offaeandcreation]

Decided to post from my Art account.

Nirejseki’s, @robininthelabyrinth , Relentless spawned a slew of memes that I had to draw. So far, I managed 2/4. More incoming. I hope you find these as funny as I did while drawing them.

Post Chapter 14: Wen Ruohan goes on a cleaning spree. Yes, that’s a maid costume. Debating tacking on a peeping Lao Nie

Post Fic of Lan Qiren introducing Wen Ruohan who is soooooo ready with his cleaning supplies to “assist” in Lan Queen’s spring cleaning. The other Lan elders suddenly see a very “you won’t get away by pulling age” future ahead of them.

I mean come on, he totally would do this if he could be intimidating in it!

[offaeandcreation]

I will soon be updating missing fics onto here

[offaeandcreation]

This bitch…

Illustration in process.

Yes, stylized because vibesss

[offaeandcreation]

Never posted my art for Wen Ruohan week last year.

Megalomania: a candle burns on both ends until nothing, but ash, is left

[offaeandcreation]

Radishes

"Radishes won't grow here either." Her uncle said.

WC: 134

CW: Starvation implied

AO3

"Radishes won't grow here either." Her uncle said, inspecting the ground with long, pale fingers.

He flinched, hand touching his throat where a thin golden line held his very head to his shoulders.

Wen Qing huffed, brushing her coarse sleeves as she stuck a shovel into the ground. The crumbling, dry soil parted with little resistance.

"And what of it. Maybe it will grow. Maybe we will all starve to death. What's the point of waiting around to die?" Her voice came out harsh, like the very soil she dug into.

Wen Ruohan flinched again. And slipped a radish root into the ground, "I heard the dead make excellent fertilizer." His lips quivered in a sorry attempt at a smile.

"Let's hope the fertilizer isn't us." She replied.

Her uncle was rarely wrong.

[offaeandcreation]

I’m thinking of opening 2 slots for commissions after October. You can dm me to reserve a spot!

[the-archangel-of-salt]

The guy on the bottom left can be anyone you want. Originally thinking daddy Nie but like doesn’t matter really. Wen Ruohan is being turned into a pin up and he thinks it’s dumb.

Sorta ns/fw

[offaeandcreation]

Soooooooooon

[offaeandcreation]

For Whom He Kneeled

Summary: It had been nearly ten years since the last time Jin Guangyao been at the Nightless City. Initially, he hadn't planned to return. No point in walking among the rubble to search for what wasn't there.

CW: Canon character deaths implied

AO3

It had been nearly ten years since the last time Jin Guangyao been at the Nightless City. Initially, he hadn't planned to return. No point in walking among the rubble to search for what wasn't there. A storm during his flight to Nie Huaisang. A wrong turn in the typhoon and here he was. At the front gates. Or what was once there. Dilapidated wood, leaning on one side. Its twin gate gone, probably a stack of fallen sticks that crunched beneath his feet. It would be better to head for Qishan. Find an inn. And leave early the next morning.

Instead, the dead silence that clung to the broken beams, ashes of burned wood, and bloodied stone called to him. Forcing his feet through the gaping hole in what once were peerless walls. Once upon a time, people littered the streets for market, even at the very tail-end of the Sun Shot campaign. Children ran in laughter, adults haggled for food and spices, not a single spine tightly held or shoulders stiff. Wen Ruohan understood the importance of feeding his people behind the walls of Nightless City. Now the market street was nothing more than a forest of stone and wood. Not a single home lay untouched by the sweeping hand of the alliance. Burned to the ground. Swept away from existence.

Perhaps if he stood to listen, he would hear the echoes of chatter. Jin Guangyao walked past.

The Sun Palace, somehow, even as it fell apart around him the moments after he had beheaded its leader, still retained some of its upturned roofs, grand pillars painted in dulled red that once competed with the very sunsets that overlooked the city. All weathered by wind, rain, and shine. Jin Guangyao's hand brushed against one of them. Wood rough beneath his calloused fingertips. Paint almost all scrubbed away. What was the point of coming here? There was no Qishan Wen sect. Nightless City was no more than a ghost city. Crumpling and decaying under the weight of time with no people to fight against it. To reapply the paint. To rebuild broken roofs. To rule over it and make certain that food and supplies arrived at her gates, even at the cost of one's own comfort.

His feet had other plans. An invisible string strapped to his feet, pulling him towards the throne room. Towards the moment the war ended.

The grand doors, tall, dark, and imbedded in gold engravings from Wen Mao's time were gone. Not even the hinges left. A hole in the roof let in a spotlight of waning sunlight, lighting to cool stone floors beneath his feet. Dirt caked the floors along with brown weeds.

But his attention drifted to the center of the room, just before the throne. A faint stain, puddle-shaped, stood out against the browns and blacks of the floor and rubble. Blood. Where he made his name, where the war finally ended.

"I'm sorry."

It wasn't Jin Guangyao who spoke. Another. Deep, but youthful. A thin outline of a man flickered in the dark depths of the throne room. Not by the throne, but to the side, as if trying to blend in with the dark.

Familiar white and red robes pooled on the floor. Face hidden in a curtain of black hair. But the flickering gold headpiece, with the familiar insignia of Sect Leader, confirmed the owner of the familiar voice. Wen Ruohan, his echo, his ghost, kowtowed on the floor, towards nothing, repeating "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." To no one who would ever hear it. Jin Guangyao didn't dare raise his voice. He watched as red pooled beneath him. Blood from the injury on his neck. The more it pooled, the weaker his voice got, before...

Before he faded away. Jin Guangyao stared at the nook hidden behind the pillars, waiting for him to reappear. Shadows stretched. A crescent moon appeared overhead. Nothing. Jin Guangyao turned on his heels. His mouth dry with ash as he walked away.

Later on, the moment Nie Mingjue's fierce corpse tightened its grip on his throat, Jin Guangyao swore he saw Wen Ruohan across the room. Red streaming down the cut on his neck.

And it clicked.

[offaeandcreation]

No One Cares For Merit

Summary: Every plan. Every dream had been connected to his future as Sect Leader. Did they intend to tear it away? Did the entire cultivation world suddenly decide he, regardless of his merits, his abilities, his intelligence, his blood, wasn’t enough?

CW: Omegaverse, Sex Determinism

AO3

He was supposed to be an alpha. That’s what his doctors said. His teachers. His mother. Father. Born screaming and kicking. Untamable personality with a temper that stirred the very depths of volcanoes and choked fresh sprouts in a frozen chokehold. Loud, demanding, and prideful. At least that’s what his nannies complained about when Wen Ruohan was a child. Mischievous and intelligent to boot - considering the multiple times he managed to sneak off sweets from the kitchens or steal their shoes for shits and giggles.

The Wen Clan had an alpha for an heir. As needed. As expected by the cultivation world. Who would trust some hormonal omega?! How laughable!

They spoke way too soon. And more embarrassing, the...event, to be polite, happened during a discussion conference. He collapsed during the banquet. Tremors shaking his entire body. Skin tingled from the tightness of his robes. And the fire. Copper flooded his mouth as he bit his hand to keep a single awful noise from so much as threatening to escape. His mother immediately grabbed him by the collar, and threw him at the servants, ordering him to be sent to the infirmary. In a private room. With beta guards until she returned. But it was too late. People had noses. They could SMELL it. Everyone knew that the heir of the Northern Tigress was an omega.

Humiliating. Wen Ruohan huddled in blankets. The fire under his skin refusing to subside even for a MOMENT. No matter what he tried on himself for pleasure - nothing worked. The physician didn’t come in. Even as family, she herself was an alpha and thus a danger.

Only deep in the night, his bedsheets all wet with tears, sweat, and humiliation, his mother walked in. A whirlwind of sun-crest robes and jasmine perfume. She pulled her teenaged son close, cradling his neck so the flickering fire in his gut subsided.

At least enough he could think straight.

“Did you know?” She asked, breaking the silence. It wasn’t silence, filled with his sobs and heavy breathing.

“No.” A sob. Humiliating.

She went quiet, “There is no way to hide this.” She said finally, "Your scent is everywhere. You fell into heat."

You humiliated us, she didn’t say.

“What’s going to happen?” Whimpered. He fucking whimpered.

His mother was silent, “I expect we will receive many marriage offers now. At least from the minor clans.”

Another fire burned in Wen Ruohan’s gut. Fingers curled into the fabric of the bed, “I’m the heir.” He hissed.

“You couldn’t even predict your own heat.” His mother snapped back, though her touch on his back was still gentle, “and you can’t even think straight without me here. Anyone can take advantage, even with suppressants.”

“So who is gonna be heir then? A-Tang? He doesn’t know his foot from his hand!” Wen Ruohan snarled back, “and anyone else wouldn’t have a speck of Wen Mao’s blood within them!”

His mother’s hand paused in stroking his hair.

“I’m the strongest cultivator and smarter than the lot of them! I have the merit. Why should some stupid biological facet that I never chose stop me?”

His mother cackled, clapping him in the back with enough force to make the air run out of his lungs. “You’re my son. There is no doubt about that!” She hit his back a couple more times, “ambitious and unstoppable. Too much I dare say.”

“For an omega?”

“For anyone. Too much and you risk burning yourself out. And now with this revelation, you would only serve to challenge any alpha.” She said.

“If they are weak, that’s on them!”

“You will not be taken seriously. Even if you were to take the cultivation world by its throat will they blame even the slightest stumble on who you are. And whipping the sect to even support an omega sect leader will be a challenge.”

“They will fear me then!”

His mother pulled Wen Ruohan close, “fear is dangerous because if you step too far, you will be condemned as much as if you don’t have enough.”

Even in his mother’s embrace, Wen Ruohan bared his teeth into the crook of her neck. Tears flooding his vision.

Every plan. Every dream had been connected to his future as Sect leader. Did she intend to tear it away? Did the entire cultivation world suddenly decide that he, regardless of his merits, his abilities, his intelligence, his blood, wasn’t enough?

“What am I to do then?!” He was supposed to hiss, instead hiccuped, “marry off and be some horse that others would try to tame? Break? Is that what you want me, your son, to do?”

His mother didn’t say yes. Within the cloak of night, Wen Ruohan watched as the thin outline of his mother’s lips turn downwards.