#lin xie

[circumference-pie]

NiF + "One Art" [x]

[trisshawkeye]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

There are many sources of warmth in Xiao Jingyu's life, and three of particular significance when he is with the Chiyan Army: his uncle, the army's Marshal Lin Xie, with whom he carefully navigates the dynamics of loyal subject and honoured family; his cousin, the fiery Lin Shu, who is growing up to be his right hand faster than he is quite prepared for; and the talented man he picks from Chiyan's ranks, who becomes more to him than he ever could have imagined.

Meng Zhi/Xiao Jingyu, Xiao Jingyu & the Lin family, Nirvana in Fire, G, 18.7k words

--

My Fandom5K assignment written for @thebansacredbanned, who got me absolutely sold on this rarepair and gave me a great opportunity to go playing around in the backstory!

[kdram-chjh]

Cdrama: Decreed by Fate (2022)

Her dream 🤣😅🤭 #decreedbyfate

Watch this video on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/FqHHR8pca5s

[acesgroupchat]

Distance Drabbles 279:

93: Thanksgiving | “You call that a joke” 04: Yan Que

Lin-dage is still laughing, his head thrown back and his hand pressed to his ribs like they hurt. Perhaps they do. Xiao Xuan had gotten a good kick in on the way down. Yan Que rights himself slowly, and extends a hand down to help Xiao Xuan up.

“You call that a joke?” snaps Xiao Xuan, grumpily knocking the dust out of his robes.

“I do! And a fine one at that.” Lin-dage’s mirth is beginning to subside into giggles. He’s distracted, so he does not see the flash of temper in Xiao Xuan’s eyes. Yan Que, ever watching, does.

[presumenothing]

mandatory note: Jingmum’s name is given as Lin Jingyi/林静怡 in timelines floating around the interwebs.

or, galeaya on ao3 asked for Jingmum and Mei Shinan – and well, why not?

“Please don’t come any closer,” says Jingyi for the umpteenth time, hands pale as the white straps clenched tight in them, the basket full of freshly-cut herbs a familiar weight against her back.

“Now don’t be like that, little girl,” leers one of the young men, sauntering closer to her in a loose circle. Their footsteps crush dry grass underfoot, echo loud in the empty quiet of the hillside. 

(None of them can be more than five years older than her, really, but Jingyi has always been petite for her age.

“Yi-er,” her teacher had said more than once, when the topic came up, “most women would be glad to look younger than they are, no?”

Jingyi had kept measuring out herbs or pounding them to powder, with only a murmur in response, because to say that she feels differently from most would be a terrible conceit. Much as it feels true, sometimes.

Perhaps they have been physician-and-apprentice for long enough, anyway, because he’d shaken his head with a sigh. “Any patient who fails to take you seriously for it is a fool,” he’d said – and she remembers looking up in surprise, to find him smiling gently at her. “No less deserving of treatment, of course, but still a fool nonetheless.”

Jingyi would’ve wished that he was with her now, except that the weather had gotten too cold for an old man to be gathering herbs up here in the mountain damp, especially when she’s perfectly capable of doing it herself.)

“Are doctors supposed to order patients off, anyway?” adds the ringleader with a snigger, and Jingyi catches the acrid tang of sulphur under the overwhelming smell of alcohol that permeated his fine clothes. 

The prized son of some rich family, then, she thinks, remembering the mansions of gunpowder merchants that her teacher had pointed out when they first came into town. 

Nothing more than a common tradesman, albeit a successful one. But more than enough to play at nobility, out here in the far reaches of Lingnan.

“If the young master is indeed ill,” Jingyi answers, her tone polite as frost, “my teacher and I would be quite glad to see you at our clinic in town.”

It’s exactly the wrong thing to say and she knows it. But there are some things she will not back down on, not even at the gleam in their eyes. “Oho, the girlie thinks she knows something about medicine, doesn’t she?”

Jingyi tugs on her basket straps again, backs up another step and –

A hand lands on her shoulder and she whirls around to see an unknown face. 

“There you are,” says the complete stranger, smiling and unafraid. “Teacher says he’s been waiting for ages, any longer and he might just start growing grass himself!”

Jingyi calms her racing heart to no avail, answers more on reflex than anything else. “My apologies, I was held up.”

“I can see that,” the newcomer says. And he is new in town, he must be, Jingyi never forgets a face and this one that’s looking around, witheringly unimpressed – she’s never seen him before. “Got everything he asked for already? Let’s get back before that old man nags both our ears off.”

She nods, still stunned, but he tugs her hand quite forcefully when she remains rooted to the spot. 

“Come on,” he says, and the sudden urgency is what finally startles her out of the half-daze because he’s right, this ruse won’t hold for much longer. And whoever this is, whatever he’s capable of – for some reason Jingyi doesn’t think the sword sheathed at his side is for decoration, and the silence with which he’d arrived meant that he knew some qinggong at the very least, but the odds of him being able to defeat seven people at once can’t be good. 

Especially not with the burden of ensuring her safety on his side.

Jingyi doesn’t know where this last thought comes from, but she’s certain of its truth, regardless, and she has learned to trust her instincts.

So she sketches a perfunctory bow and murmurs please excuse us without a single look at their faces, before turning sharply on her heel to hurry after the young man, already striding off impatiently back towards town. “Jingyi is sorry to have troubled Brother to come all the way out here,” she calls out, loud enough for those behind to hear.

At least he slows to let her catch up, and Jingyi’s prepared to whisper a hint to play along, if he needs one.

But her worry proves unnecessary when he catches on remarkably quickly, without more than a telltale dart of a glance at her. “What nonsense, Yi-er, that’s what your Shinan-ge is here for! C’mon, let me carry that basket, we’ll never reach town before dark at this rate.”

Jingyi goes nearly light-headed with relief, but manages to keep up her side of the conversation until they’re well and firmly out of earshot.

Only then does her still-mysterious saviour look back over his shoulder briefly. “That was close,” he mutters, before turning to her with a look of concern on his face. “Are you alright, miss?”

“Yes,” Jingyi replies, then bows, much more politely than she’d done earlier. “With many thanks to the Young Master.”

He scrambles to help her up, a rueful expression on his face. “That obvious, huh?” 

Jingyi shakes her head quite honestly, but finds herself compelled to continue at his curious look. “The callouses on your palms are quite distinctive, I noticed them when you took the basket from me earlier,” she begins thoughtfully. “We get mostly jianghu fighters here, but sometimes soldiers from the capital pass through as well. I don’t know much about the military, but how many men would have so much fighting experience at a young age yet still have the leisure to wander the jianghu?”

Shinan – if that is indeed his name – fiddles with the straps of the basket now on his back, a little too short for his frame, and nods, conceding the point. “Fair enough.”

There’s more to it, honestly: the way he holds himself now with the bearing of one used to having command, the practiced way in which he scanned the area behind them with just a quick look. Even the fact that he’d offered to carry her load like a reflex of manners long drilled into him, though Jingyi now wondered if that too had been a precaution in case they needed to make a run for it.

“Neither do I recognise you from the area, and your clothes are very well-made if plain of design,” Jingyi says instead. “But it was merely a guess, still, nothing more.”

Unexpectedly he breaks into great gales of laughter, hard enough to shake his shoulders. “I’d hate to see what you consider certain,” he says, wiping tears from his eyes, “but you’re right on all counts. My friends and I are from Jinling, we thought we’d travel for a bit.”

Jingyi can’t help a slight smile, in the face of his mirth. “Then I am fortunate that you would take some time out of those travels to help a person in need.”

The amusement disappears abruptly to be replaced by a frown. “Now don’t lie to me. I’ve made things difficult for you with that lot, haven’t I.”

“There are worse things than a little difficulty in the future.” Jingyi ignores the obvious disbelief in answer. “And better this than what I might’ve done anyway.”

He looks curiously at her again. “Which is…?”

Jingyi gestures at the wicker basket on his back. “Toss it at them, once they were gathered close enough.”

“Would getting a few plants to the face stop them?” he asks doubtfully.

“Hardly,” she answers. “But the sap might, if not handled properly. Nothing poisonous, of course, but they’d be itching terribly for a few days at least, I daresay.”

“…that another guess?” he ventures, laughter back in his voice.

Jingyi smiles faintly, and nods. “Of course.”

……tbc? most probably. there’s more but this is already well past 1k

unnecessary context note: Lingnan/岭南 is mentioned at least twice in my copy of the novel – first as the place where Yujin’s new year tangerines are fedex’d from, second as where Jingmum’s old teacher (or at least someone she learned doctor things from iirc? the one Jingyan asks the Emperor to pardon) is exiled to. *applies creative_license.exe*

a n y w a y

so in obvious news, all the previous ficlets are now archived haphazardly to ao3! go figure, i guess, i just can’t title each of these separately do u Feel me

[kdram-chjh]

Cdrama: Decreed by Fate (2022)

Entangled by a strange vine for 24 hours 🤭 #decreedbyfate

Watch this video on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/TaM93os2JPg

[kdram-chjh]

Cdrama: Decreed by Fate (2022)

I hope his heartbeat is fine. 🤣🤭🤧 #decreedbyfate

Watch this video on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/ZPRytjGH_TI

[acesgroupchat]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

They march shoulder to shoulder, more than seventy thousand strong. Their feet beat perfect silent time on the polished stone floors. In death as in life their marshal leads them.

Father and son march side by side at the head of the column. Behind them, an army stretches in steadfast order, as far as the eye can see. Beside them, princesses, consorts, and ministers walk together, upright, proud, and certain. Together they come to the banks of the river. Together they go into the water, heads held high and steps in steady rhythm.

Lin Shu lets the water flow over his legs, swell against his chest, close over his head, and feels his soul washed clean. Beneath the water, his mother reaches out to take his hand.

The bright fields of the afterlife welcome them, and the makeshift camp of Chiyan’s dead becomes a bustling city. Her residents settle in and find themselves beginning to heal. Names, now restored, are hung with pride in doorways. The prayers of the living wind among them, bearing the faint perfume of incense in their wake. Older family members come to greet them and welcome them home. They are barely out of the river when Lin Shu raises his head and finds Tai Nai Nai standing before him, arms held out in welcome. She looks as frail as she had when he last saw her living, but her embrace is firm and certain.

It is all that was promised and more. Lin Shu watches as his parents settle into a new rhythm of social calls and easy activity. Aunt Yueyao is a frequent visitor, and Prince Qi joins her often, his wife and children tagging along. They are all eager for news of Tingsheng, and Lin Shu tells story after story, everything he knows of the last fourteen years, of Jingyan’s careful work and Tingsheng’s cautious joy. It is not the life that they had any of them expected or wished for, for Tingsheng or for themselves, but it is reason enough to hope, and for that they are all grateful. It is enough. It is perfect.

Even so, he finds himself walking often, to the edges of their little city, deep into the fields and along the riverbanks. His home is bright and full of easy conversation, a place of comfortable welcome. Beside the rushing waters is the only time he cannot hear the joyful laughter, which echoes in his ears everywhere he goes. He skips rocks through the current. Once, he thinks he sees one make it across to the black stone of the other bank.

He is on his way there when he turns a corner and finds himself somewhere else entirely. The faint scent of rot fills his mouth, and plum trees stretch before him as far as his eyes can see, full of a first delicate bloom. For a moment, it brings him to a stumbling halt. Not far from him, half sheltered under the branches of a tree, a figure in white turns toward him.

Lin Chen snorts, eyes sweeping over him. “It figures that you would be here. Grown bored again already?”

Mei Changsu takes one step towards him, then another and another. It is not far to walk, and Lin Chen meets him halfway.

It is easier, after that. His family home is open to him always, and he is there often, but just as often he finds himself wandering through the gardens, and through the various chambers and halls that are Lin Chen’s own, but which nevertheless open to him at the first thought, sometimes before he realizes exactly where his feet are carrying him. This is a source of endless amusement for Lin Chen, who has left off even feigning annoyance in favor of mocking Mei Changsu mercilessly for not realizing something that should, apparently, have been obvious.

“Really Changsu, when I said that the garden was closed to mortals what did you think I meant?”

“Fei Liu comes and goes as he pleases.”

Lin Chen snorts. “Fei Liu is the son of a nymph whose mother drowned herself in the river. He wouldn’t know mortality if it bit him.”

Fei Liu, who had been lounging on a branch above them, chooses this moment to throw most of an orange peel at Lin Chen’s head. Lin Chen grabs at his ankle, but Fei Liu springs up out of the branches, soaring away over the treetops and out of sight.  Lin Chen watches him leave before settling back against the tree trunk in a lazy sprawl. Mei Changsu lets their shoulders press together, stares up into the crowding leaves above them. He finds, though, after a moment, that he is not quite finished with this conversation.

“I cannot be the only mortal you have ever brought here.”

He should not be able to feel Lin Chen roll his eyes, and yet he does. “First of all, I have never brought you anywhere. I cannot be held responsible for your trespassing. Second of all, just who do you imagine I would have brought here? This is my private garden, where I come to retreat from the burdens of mortal suffering. Letting mortals in here entirely defeats the point.”

Mei Changsu pauses. He is not particularly inclined to let Lin Chen accuse him of jealousy, but the question has been nagging at him for some time. “What of the others who have shared your bed? You have brought none of them here?”

Lin Chen, as expected, bursts out laughing. The trees around them shake, raining down leaves and petals on them both, and Mei Changsu feels himself shaking where Lin Chen’s shoulder is pressed to his. Lin Chen laughs for an unreasonably long time, slowly tipping sideways with the force of his mirth until he is sprawled across Mei Changsu’s lap, grinning up at him. Mei Changsu waits very patiently as Lin Chen collects himself, though he does not stop giggling even as he even as he dries his eyes on his sleeve.

“What others? Changsu, I didn’t even have a bed until you decided I needed one in order to nurse you properly.”

“You didn’t have a bed?”

“Why would I? You know I don’t sleep, Changsu, we’ve been over this.”

Mei Changsu purses his lips rather than answer, but Lin Chen, predictably, reads the answer on his face anyway and succumbs once again to gales of laughter, swamping them both in drifts of flower petals. Mei Changsu decides that perhaps he will pay his parents a visit after all.

And it’s better, like this. Dividing his time between his family home and Lin Chen’s ever-changing halls and gardens. It is a paradise. It is more than anyone could ask or wish for. It is almost perfect.

“You miss him,” says Lin Chen. It breaks the lazy stillness of the garden, and Mei Changsu is forced to open an eye. When no further elaboration appears forthcoming, he hums an inquiry.

Lin Chen waves a hand, a broad, expansive gesture that sets the plum blossoms rustling. “Your prince. You have been pining for him, just as he pines for you.”

“I don’t pine,” he protests. Lin Chen gives him a flat look.

“He sends prayers to me as well, you know. It’s a habit he picked up during the many, many years you were so judiciously refraining from telling him where you were. I rather thought he would stop once this matter was resolved, but instead he has taken to pestering me after your wellbeing. Every day sending along his hopes that you are well cared for, and not being made to pay some absurd toll for his good fortune, and that you have everything that you might wish here in the afterlife. He has left you a staggering number of offerings, as I know you are keenly aware.”

Mei Changsu opens his mouth, and finds he has no words to answer. He closes it again. It is true that Jingyan’s prayers have become something of a constant companion. They are a treasured part of his existence, a devotion he does not deserve but clings to anyway. It is also true that he is beginning to worry for Jingyan. He does not know how much time has passed for Jingyan since his second death, but the grief that laces his prayers has only grown, shows no sign of abating. It is painful, to think of Jingyan in pain, and here in the underworld there is absolutely nothing that he can do to console him.

“You miss him, Changsu. Is it such a terrible thing to admit?”

He shuts his eyes. “There is nothing I can do for him now.”

Lin Chen chuckles. “Look at you, so aware of your condition. How you’ve grown.” When Mei Changsu swats at him, he catches his hand, twines their fingers together. For a moment, there is quiet. Then,

“What if there were a way for you to return?”

The words go through him like lightning, and he sits up. It jostles Lin Chen, who glares at him. His posture is still relaxed, but there is a weight to his gaze.

“You said it was impossible.”

Lin Chen doesn’t answer. An orange falls from the tree, into Lin Chen’s outstretched hand, and he begins to peel it, the soft skin parting easily beneath his long fingers, forming a long coil.

“Lin Chen. You said that it couldn’t be done. What do you mean?”

“I said that I would not, not that I could not.” Lin Chen sighs, and sits up. “It is a difficult thing, for a mortal to return to life once they have left it. Almost impossible, but not completely, as you yourself have experienced. For those who are not mortal, the matter is somewhat simpler.” His eyes meet Mei Changsu’s and his gaze is very sharp. “You have not been strictly mortal for some time now, Changsu.”

He swallows. “And you would let me go, just like that, if I asked?”

Lin Chen’s free hand catches the back of his head, and tugs him into a kiss. His mouth is firm and certain, and Mei Changsu finds himself melting into it when, just as suddenly as it began, the kiss ends, and Lin Chen pulls back. His smile is gentle, but there is heat in his eyes. “I know you will come back.”

Mei Changsu clears his throat. “And you would not mind if…”

Lin Chen laughs softly. “I have known your heart since well before you first stumbled into this garden. If I had minded, we would never have begun. He seems like a sensible person, far more sensible than you, in any case.” The last of the orange peel comes free, and Lin Chen sets it down carefully by his hip. “Jealousy is not in my nature, Changsu. You miss him. He misses you as well, clearly. If you wish to return to him, you can.”

His hands are shaking, he realizes. He closes his fingers in his own sleeve and tries to collect his thoughts. For all that it seems impossible, there can be no question of his answer. “How do I get there?”

With an easy, graceful motion, Lin Chen splits the orange in his hand, six segments coming off into his palm. “These will allow you to walk among the living without pain.” He presses five of the segments into Mei Changsu’s hand, the last held between his fingertips. “When they run out, it will be winter. Return to me then.”

He presses the final segment to Mei Changsu’s lips, fingertips dragging across his mouth as the fruit slides inside. The delicate skin breaks against his teeth and juice floods his mouth, bright and sweet, tasting only of sunlight. As the garden fades around him, Lin Chen’s voice echoes in his ear.

“I will be waiting, Mei Changsu.”