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Before they even officially met, Nie Mingjue was already halfway in love with Meng Yao. The day he first encountered Meng Yao, he was already expecting to like the man whom he’d heard so much about. He often stayed late and arrived early, and helped all whom he could. Huaisang would probably tease him for falling in love with someone’s work ethic.
Meng Yao has made himself so small that Nie Mingjue nearly walks right by him. He is sitting on the ground by himself, but he stands up hurriedly when he spots Nie Mingjue.
“Sect Leader Nie.” The man bows, his eyes downturned.
“Meng Yao?”
“Yes.”
Nie Mingjue is faced with a man whom he vaguely recognizes and has perhaps admired from afar. His frame is delicate, his face gentle. Nie Mingjue hopes the hunger swelling in his belly doesn’t show on his face.
“Why aren’t you resting with the others in the cave?”
Meng Yao finally looks up at him, trepidation on his face. “Sect Leader...”
Nie Mingjue doesn’t know what is putting the hesitation in Meng Yao’s tone, doesn't understand what emotion he has elicited. Despite this, he will right it if it’s in his power to do so.
“Come with me,” he says, jerking his head towards the cave.
He promotes Meng Yao to Vice-General that day. It is righteous anger that drives him to do so, absolutely. He does it to prove a point to his ungrateful disciples. But Nie Mingjue truly believes Meng Yao will prove himself, or else he would not have done it.
Meng Yao does prove himself. He handles his abrupt rise through the ranks with temperance and grace. Nie Mingjue soon discovers that he could not have chosen anyone better to advise him. Meng Yao is intelligent, resourceful, and reserved where Nie Mingjue isn’t.
Settling into their new dynamic takes very little time. Nie Mingjue admires the other man for his dedicated service. The progression Meng Yao has made in his cultivation in a short period is commendable. Nie Mingjue grows dependent on the other man’s advice, on his companionship. He becomes more than an advisor, he becomes a valued friend.
It feels strange to have such a close companion. His closest friend is Lan Xichen, and they do not often get to see each other. Conversely, it is rare for him to go more than half a day without seeing Meng Yao. Sometimes, even that seems too long. The other man’s calming presence centers him, he feels its lack and longs for it.
Sometimes, when Meng Yao is speaking to him, Nie Mingjue’s eyes linger on the other man longer than they should. He watches the way his eyelashes brush his cheeks, wants to kiss his eyelids. It’s a trial for him not to reach out and skim his palm against the other man’s cheek.
He normally prides himself on his focus, on his straightforwardness, and this attraction confounds him. Desire has never been something he felt strongly enough to consider it a distraction. He acknowledges his physical needs to be something that practically must be taken care of. He finds satisfaction, even pleasure, in other men’s bodies. He treats sex the same way he treats a field practice day. The physicality, the sweat, the clash of bodies, all these are rewarding. But he wants Meng Yao to want him. Wants to see the other man’s eyes on him, looking with need.
Sometimes he wonders if he sees something akin to want in Meng Yao’s considering gaze, but he brushes the thought off each time. The other man is too hard to read and too observant to put too much weight into his glances. It doesn’t stop him from feeling pride at Meng Yao’s habitual scrutiny.
More than just the pride of feeling the other man’s eyes on him, he wants his admiration in other ways. He has always felt a sense of pride regarding his position as Sect Leader, of course. For his family, especially Huaisang, and for his people. But a new branch begins to sprout from this sentiment, one that wants to be a good Sect Leader in the eyes of Meng Yao specifically. He wants Meng Yao to give him his small, approving smile when he agrees with something Nie Mingjue has said. More than ever he wants to pull the other man against himself in a comforting embrace. He wants to stroke Meng Yao's hair and plait Nie braids into the soft strands.
He’s never felt this warm, aching sensation before. Something in him wants Meng Yao, desires him in a way he’s never experienced. It seems wrong to harbor such feelings for someone so directly subordinate to himself, a conflict of interests in the worst way. How could he compromise their relationship by asking Meng Yao to be with him? He curses whatever bad luck made him so attracted to someone so unavailable to him. There is also a small, perturbing part of him that is worried about Meng Yao’s reaction. He can barely admit it even to himself, but it would hurt to be rejected by the beautiful man he’s come to care for so much.
It feels foolish to even entertain these types of thoughts, though he can’t seem to banish them. He wishes he could dispel them from his head and treat Meng Yao like another younger sibling, valued and loved but not desired. The more he tries to relegate Meng Yao to the back of his mind, however, the more the man plagues his attention. Saying nothing of these thoughts to Meng Yao amounts to inaction, and that is practically torture for a man of Nie Mingjue’s dynamism.
Meng Yao occupies his mind, as he often does, as Nie Mingjue walks toward his private study. He is meeting his Vice-General there to discuss some general budgetary work, though his mind is caught more on the man waiting for him than the task at hand.
It is his focus on the object of his affections that keeps him from noticing two cultivators approaching. They’re leaving the direction he’s heading, speaking in a volume that demonstrates they’re unaware of his presence. He’s not a man to eavesdrop, but he won’t give them quarter by announcing his presence if they’re too unobservant to notice.
“...private study. He holds meetings with the concubine there.”
Nie Mingjue almost stops in his tracks, the words take him aback so. He knows, of course, who they must be referring to, but he doesn’t know why. Is it so obvious to everyone that he wants Meng Yao? Do all his disciples assume he must already be bedding him?
“The concubine is probably already there, waiting for his lord. He’s always trailing him, acting high-and-mighty and as if he belongs everywhere because the Sect Leader favors him.”
The second cultivator scoffs. “Like a royal concubine who forgets she’s not the empress, Meng Yao has forgotten his place here.”
“Truly. He believes himself the emperor’s wife although he’s just a barely elevated whore. His position has inflated his ego to an unthinkable degree.”
The second cultivator seems as though he will add something, but it is then that Nie Mingjue rounds the corner, glowering. The two men fall silent at his appearance, stepping aside for him and bowing lowly.
“Sect Leader Nie.”
He doesn’t favor them with a reply. He knows his disapproval is enough to cow them for some time, though it denies him the satisfaction of expressing his fury. After all Meng Yao has done for them, for him, for the Nie clan, still these people think they have any right to mock him. He had supposed, perhaps foolishly, that Meng Yao’s promotion had halted this kind of talk. It seems all it did was give them another indictment against Meng Yao’s character. They are so ready to believe that he deserves nothing of his position or their respect that his promotion has only made them more bitter.
He uses his anger to push down the thrill of – something – he’d felt at the thought of Meng Yao as his consort.
But he doesn’t stop thinking about it. Meng Yao, his wife. He feels a bit guilty for these thoughts. He knows those cultivators were trying to degrade Meng Yao – to them, he’s the son of a whore, he might as well be a whore himself. By casting him as a concubine, they suggest he’s not even a man. Assuredly, Nie Mingjue believes none of these things of his esteemed advisor.
But there’s something undeniably pleasing about the image of Meng Yao by his side, for the rest of their lives. Tied to him officially, dressed in red. He has to admit that not much would change. Meng Yao is already the caretaker of his clan, already his partner in all but name.
He realizes he had been giving neither himself nor Meng Yao enough credit. He wouldn't stop being righteous just because Meng Yao was in his bed. Meng Yao wouldn't temper his opinions any to please Nie Mingjue, no matter if they were intimate or not.
It is at this point in his thought process that he reaches the study, and Meng Yao slides open the door. Nie Mingjue is met with a wide, charmingly dimpled smile.
“Sect Leader, I was nearly forced to call a search party,” Meng Yao teases. His eyes are glinting with laughter, and Nie Mingjue’s thoughts are suddenly vacant.
He brushes past Meng Yao into the study, perhaps a little brusquely. He sits himself at the table, already piled high with papers and scrolls, unable to face this rare, mirthful Meng Yao.
His Vice-General follows obediently, folding his legs under him precisely at Nie Mingjue’s left side.
The finance work they are charged with tonight is the type of endeavor Nie Mingjue had long shouldered alone. Even after finding himself a capable assistant, he had found no need to pass on the duty to Meng Yao. His father had always done certain types of work alone, and Nie Mingjue unconsciously kept the tradition.
Not long ago, he had been heading to the study after dismissing Meng Yao for the night, but Meng Yao pulled him back with a soft intonation.
“Sect Leader, might I ask you a question?”
Despite Nie Mingjue’s insistence that Meng Yao need not ask permission to speak to him, Meng Yao adheres to polite convention. He knows well enough, however, not to bother waiting for Nie Mingjue to answer.
“Do you believe me unsuitable to assist in the allocation of funds?”
Meng Yao’s tone was light, his face nothing more than curious.
Nie Mingjue attempted to ignore the question, but Meng Yao was too familiar with him to let him get away with it and continued to verbally pluck at him.
“I wonder, Sect Leader, if there is something lacking in my service?”
He said it to rile Nie Mingjue, surely, but he could sense the real insecurity Meng Yao attempted to hide under his ironic tone.
“I have no need of your assistance in these matters. They are so menial. Even you would find them dull.”
Meng Yao gave him a polite smile, though there was a hint of true humor in the quirk of his brows.
“Pardon my presumption, but I expect there is no need for me if I cannot help with even the most menial of tasks.” When Nie Mingjue failed to respond, he continued, “When Sect Leader Nie graciously promoted me to Vice-General, I know it was not an empty action. I may only be able to help you to a certain degree on night hunts, but ultimately I am here to lighten your workload.”
Meng Yao seemed as though he would continue, but Nie Mingjue couldn’t help but interject.
“It is only thanks to your help that I get most things done. You don’t need to handle every single one of my responsibilities.” He laughed. “The disciples will talk.”
“They already talk, Sect Leader.” Meng Yao’s eyes were sharp. “Let me help with what I’m good at, such as this administrative work. At least then someone can benefit from the gossip.”
Nie Mingjue finally acquiesced. He can’t fight Meng Yao when his Vice-General gets like this. For all that Nie Mingjue towers over Meng Yao in stature, the man can out-speak him in his sleep.
Meng Yao immediately proved himself right and excelled at the financial aspects of managing the clan. Nie Mingjue has long ago ceased being surprised when Meng Yao exceeds his expectations. Often, Meng Yao is as good or better at running the clan than Nie Mingjue, and Nie Mingjue trained for the role since childhood. He’s not sure why he originally argued against Meng Yao helping, except from some sense that Meng Yao had too many responsibilities already.
Since that first night, Nie Mingjue has never spared a thought for doing the task alone.
This night, Nie Mingjue feels even more useless than normal, lost in his thoughts as he is. He cannot get the words of those cultivators out of his mind, cannot stop the ill-timed thoughts about the man next to him. Eventually he is forced to admit that he isn’t taking in anything he’s reading, and he should give the work over to Meng Yao and start something new.
“I’m falling back on this one. Can you take a look at it?”
Nie Mingjue offers a bit of paper over to Meng Yao, not bothering to look away from the scroll he has moved on to studying next. He only glances up when Meng Yao fails to take the paper from him for several moments and sees that his Vice-General has started to nod off.
Seeing his normally exacting subordinate with his head nodding, chin almost to his chest, is nearly enough to make him laugh. He holds back only for Meng Yao’s sake, who he knows will be mortified if Nie Mingjue catches him. Suddenly aware that he has been staring, Nie Mingjue returns his attention to the work before him, sliding the candle from the middle of the table a bit closer. It is not long after that he hears Meng Yao start to stir, though he does his best to appear as though he hasn’t noticed.
Nie Mingjue slides a scroll over to Meng Yao for him to check, and Meng Yao hands over piles of papers full of annotations. They fall into a steady rhythm that has developed over many similar late nights.
After staring at the same few characters for too long, Nie Mingjue leans over to Meng Yao for his input. Warmth fills him at Meng Yao’s reply, intelligent as always, but so humbly said. He truly does not know what he would do – what he had done – without his Vice-General’s advice. Someday he would find a way to express those sentiments personally.
He marks Meng Yao’s comments onto the scroll he had been struggling with, happy with Meng Yao’s solution. He is deeply focused on the next few lines when he feels something warm against his arm. Meng Yao’s head is drooping again, though this time, since having both moved closer to look over the same document, his head is falling directly onto Nie Mingjue’s shoulder.
Something soft, painful, and longing clenches in his stomach. It’s rare for Meng Yao to let his guard down, especially when it comes to physical contact. He wants to pull Meng Yao in tighter, hold him while he rests. He’s always felt protective of the other man, ever since the day they met, but he knows that isn’t the only reason he wants to hold him.
He needs to wake Meng Yao up – the other man would find it improper to be so close to his superior – but he soaks in their proximity for another moment before touching Meng Yao’s wrist as lightly as he can.
Meng Yao wakes immediately, body and eyes alert. He looks to Nie Mingjue, clearly taken aback to find him pressed against his side.
“I tried not to startle you,” Nie Mingjue says, a wry smile tugging up one side of his mouth. Meng Yao’s wide eyes meet his and then drop to where Nie Mingjue’s hand still rests against his wrist. He jerks his hand away, tucking it protectively into his robes and folding his arms down.
“Sect Leader Nie, I must apologize.” He tries to stand, but Nie Mingjue stops him with a stern look.
“Meng Yao, even you cannot go without sleep forever.”
“Of course, Sect Leader Nie,” Meng Yao returns evenly, “but this work is important, Sect Leader Nie has tasked me with its management, and I would not let him down.”
Though he remains sitting, he brings his arms forward and lowers his posture into the imitation of a bow.
“You know none of this is urgent. You’re just being overly ceremonious.” Nie Mingjue hums lightly, returning his attention to the work in front of him. But Meng Yao’s head remains lowered. “If you truly view your work as essential, then you will take, at the very least, a brief respite. You must know that you will be less than useless if you’re exhausted.”
Meng Yao tenses, though there is no anger in Nie Mingjue’s tone.
“Meng Yao. I want you to get some rest.” He pauses for a moment. “If you’re so opposed to retiring for the night, why not just lie down for a moment?” His eyes flick to the screened off portion of the room where his day bed sits.
Meng Yao makes an expression that Nie Mingjue cannot parse but doesn’t say anything. Nie Mingjue rises, pulling Meng Yao with him. The other man comes none too willingly, though there is a hint of a smile on his lips.
“Must I stoop to ordering you into bed?”
Meng Yao’s posture stiffens, his expression closing off. All warmth leaves the room, and Nie Minjue’s smile falters.
“Sect Leader Nie knows that if he does, I would have no choice but to comply.” His tone is icy, an inflection Nie Mingjue has not often heard directed at himself. He is not a man who is much burdened by how his words are perceived, but he curses his own thoughtless blunder.
Not really knowing how to fix things with words, his first instinct is to reach out for Meng Yao. It is likely, however, that this would be ill-received, so he halts his hand before he can make even more of a fool of himself.
“Meng Yao. I — .” He clears his throat uncomfortably. “I said this out of concern for you, however careless.” He stares at Meng Yao, willing the other man to meet his gaze. “Have I not shown you from the day we met that I care not at all about the circumstances of your birth?”
Finally, Meng Yao looks up, the set of his shoulders loosening slightly.
Nie Mingjue can’t help but smile as their eyes meet, Meng Yao’s dark eyelashes brushing softly against his cheeks, just a hint of flush left from his angry outburst. Soft affection flows through him, and he reaches out to gently stroke Meng Yao’s hair as he used to do to Huaisang when they were small. He still finds himself doing it sometimes, in private, when he is trying to be reassuring.
The gesture is meant to be brotherly. He realizes he has made an error when Meng Yao’s eyes widen. What he thinks will be a comforting touch is something else entirely. Nie Mingjue feels like lightning has somehow struck his palm, and his fingers are unsteady. Pulling his hand away, he accidentally brushes against the top of Meng Yao’s ear and Meng Yao trembles. No longer sure what he’s supposed to do, Nie Mingjue drops his hands to his sides and steps back stiffly.
He nearly apologizes, though he doesn’t know for what. Meng Yao seems unsure, his hands held awkwardly in front of him. He turns and leaves the room suddenly, not looking back. Nie Mingjue can’t blame him. He hopes Meng Yao does actually get some sleep. He himself is unable to for quite some time.
The next day, Nie Mingjue wakes up late. Normally, someone – a servant or Meng Yao – would come to wake him in the rare case he overslept. His first appointment of the day was meant to be with Meng Yao, and he’s not sure whether the other man is letting him get some sleep or avoiding him.
Perhaps Meng Yao, too, had given in and slept longer than normal. Nie Mingjue takes his time readying himself. It has been so long since his day has not been guided by Meng Yao’s careful scheduling, he's actually a little unsure what he should do. Eventually, he decides to head directly to Meng Yao’s quarters. Despite the awkwardness of their parting , he hopes both of them getting some sleep has smoothed things over.
He arrives at Meng Yao’s door and knocks lightly.
“One moment,” calls Meng Yao’s voice from within.
“It’s me.”
There is a brief silence and then the sound of Meng Yao hurrying to the door, wrenching it open.
“Sect Leader, I apologize — ” He looks less put together than Nie Mingjue has ever seen him, robes lopsided and hair undone.
Despite Nie Mingjue’s worry, he still has to fight a smile. Nie Mingjue feels like he’s seeing a Meng Yao he shouldn’t be allowed to see. It’s ridiculously charming, and he wants to see this Meng Yao every day.
Meng Yao continues to express his apologies, but Nie Mingjue cuts him off with a gesture.
Before he can think better of it he says, “Let me help?” At Meng Yao’s questioning look, he gestures towards the other man’s hair, still in disarray.
“Sect Leader?”
“You’re worried about delay, correct? I had adequate practice doing Huaisang’s hair when he was small. I can fix it for you quickly.”
Meng Yao still looks unsure, but he leads Nie Mingjue over to his plain vanity, sitting stiffly. Nie Mingjue reaches a hand out. “Your comb?”
He brushes gently through Meng Yao’s soft strands. In this, he has found a way to express his care for the other man, despite being unable to say it outloud. He watches as Meng Yao’s posture slowly relaxes and the reflections of his eyes close for longer and longer periods of time.
After smoothing all the stands downward, he begins to pull back those at the top of Meng Yao’s head to make braids. Despite years without practice and fingers that are more often used for violent purposes, he weaves the strands together with passable elegance.
He feels more than sees Meng Yao sigh.
“Are you alright?”
Meng Yao hesitates. “Yes. It...just feels nice.”
Warmth blooms in Nie Mingjue’s chest.
After a heavy pause, Meng Yao continues, “No one has combed my hair for me in a long time.” He smooths an imaginary wrinkle out of one of his sleeves. “Not since my... my mother.”
Nie Mingjue’s fingers pause for a moment. Gods, he wants to treasure this man. He wants to treat him the way he was meant to be treated. He wants to comb his hair for him every day, parade him around Qinghe, never be parted from him.
He wants to marry him.
He had never really thought seriously about marriage before this. He assumed he would marry someday, someone his advisors found for him or someone with cultivation high enough to impress him into a partnership. Meng Yao is far from a high level cultivator, but...
He takes up a strand of Meng Yao’s hair and resumes his plaiting. He's indispensable. Both to him as a Sect Leader and as a person. He can't bear the thought of facing a day without him.
As Nie Mingjue finishes the last braid, he meets Meng Yao’s eyes in the mirror and receives a shy smile. He ties the ends as neatly as he can, arranging them into a loop at the back of Meng Yao’s head and fastening them with the small pin Meng Yao hands him.
Finished with his task, Nie Mingjue is not sure what to do with his hands. He drops them to his sides, but he and Meng Yao are positioned so closely that it does nothing to reduce the intimacy of the situation.
Meng Yao gets up, perhaps to break the tension, but Nie Mingjue decides not to let this moment pass. He circles his fingers around Meng Yao’s wrist gently. He feels the energy between them, still charged, oppressive. He raises his other hand to stroke Meng Yao’s cheek. He does it with much more purpose than he had the night before. He is trying to be anything but brotherly now. Meng Yao doesn’t pull away, doesn't break eye contact. His expression is open, gentle.
“Meng Yao... I want to kiss you.” There is a sharp intake of breath from the other man, and his gaze turns downward.
“You — ” Nie Mingjue feels a disconcerting flush climbing up his neck. “You can say no. I swear to you that nothing about your station or position in the Nie clan is dependent upon your answer.”
Meng Yao hesitates, but then he returns his eyes to Nie Mingjue’s. He nods, sharply, and it’s all Nie Mingjue needs to lean in. His hand that was around Meng Yao’s wrist lifts to Meng Yao’s other delicate cheek, and Meng Yao leans into the touch, eyelashes fluttering lightly. This reaction emboldens Nie Mingjue. He strokes his thumbs over Meng Yao’s temples, just at his hairline, against the beginnings of the braids.
He has to lean down quite far to make their lips meet. He tries to be gentle but overcompensates and barely touches Meng Yao’s lips. He’s wanted this for so long and thinks that, maybe, from Meng Yao’s expression, he might have been wanting it too. He brings their lips together again, more firmly this time. Enough to feel that Meng Yao’s lips are as soft as they look. Enough to feel the other man’s soft exhales against his cheek. He feels Meng Yao’s arms come up around his back, touching lightly, as if he’s not sure he should.
They only break apart when someone knocks on Meng Yao’s door.
“One moment,” Meng Yao calls out a second time. Whoever it is steps away.
Meng Yao laughs nervously, hands still clenched around fistfulls of Nie Mingjue’s robes. He turns his smile back to Nie Mingjue, and the bulking tower of a man nearly goes weak in the knees. There is a light flush across Meng Yao’s cheeks that he wants to see more of. Meng Yao steps back a bit shyly. Nie Mingjue lets him, but he takes hold of one of his hands so he can’t go too far.
“Should we,” Nie Mingjue looks away embarrassedly, “continue this at a later time?” Then, remembering himself, he asks, “Or we needn’t, if you don’t wish it.”
Meng Yao pauses, considering, making Nie Mingjue more nervous than he would care to admit. He doesn't rush him. He still has the other man’s hand in his and rubs his thumb across it lightly.
“Let’s,” Meng Yao starts haltingly, “Yes. Let’s continue this later.” His voice drops softly, though his tone is resolute.
Nie Mingjue didn’t realize he’d been tense until his body relaxes at Meng Yao’s words. He pulls Meng Yao forward by his hand, leans in for another kiss. This one lasts longer than either before it. Perhaps both of their nervousness and hesitation is wearing off.
Meng Yao is the one who finally pulls away. “Sect Leader...” he says, almost admonishingly.
Nie Mingjue feels a laugh bubble in his throat. “Let’s go then.”
They walk towards the main hall where they are expected. Nie Mingjue considers himself a man of substantial restraint, but he wants to pull the other man to him, kiss him breathless. From the way Meng Yao keeps stealing glances at him, he is thinking something similar.
For the entire duration of the morning assembly, Nie Mingjue has to fight with himself not to stare at Meng Yao. He doesn’t always succeed. Once, Meng Yao catches him staring and a flush creeps up the sides of his face. He nearly stutters, a rarity for him, but he covers it with the rustle of the papers in front of him. Nie Mingjue is glad Huaisang is not there, else he would definitely know something is up.
The rest of the day passes in a similar manner. They both go about their usual duties, but distractedly. Nie Mingjue finds himself noticing inconsequential things, like the fall of Meng Yao’s hair over his shoulder when he leans down to read a scroll on a table. The way Meng Yao’s eyes turn toward him in humor when a disciple says something he finds foolish. Huaisang’s smile when Meng Yao corrects his sword form.
That night, instinctually, Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue meet in the study. Nie Mingjue arrives first and is embarrassed at the flush of happiness he feels when Meng Yao appears. Meng Yao closes the door carefully behind him, turning to face Nie Mingjue with an expression he can only hope is eagerness. He’s not sure if it’s okay to reach for Meng Yao, but before he can ask, Meng Yao steps closer, tugging gently at his sleeve.
“Sect Leader,” Meng Yao says, demure. “I would like to kiss you.”
The words and the man saying them thoroughly devastate Nie Mingjue’s composure. He lets Meng Yao come to him, and Meng Yao surprises him by leading him over to the daybed. He puts his hands on the taller man’s shoulders and motions for him to sit. He uses his newly acquired height advantage to circle his arms around Nie Mingjue’s neck and kiss him from above.
Nie Mingjue appreciates this bolder Meng Yao. He brings his hands up to rest on Meng Yao’s waist, encouraging him.
He lets Meng Yao press him back onto the bed, never even parting their lips to do so. At some point – he’s not sure when – they stop kissing, and Meng Yao is just a comforting weight on his chest. The other man’s face is tucked into his shoulder and breathing soft sensations across his neck.
He strokes Meng Yao’s hair and Meng Yao hums softly in contentment. Meng Yao’s breathing slowly evens out, and Nie Mingjue can feel the moment Meng Yao yields to his fatigue and drops into sleep.
Nie Mingjue sleeps very soundly that night.