Work Text:
“Sect Leader Wen is causing undue trouble.”
“I just want to be here. Everything is fine, isn’t it? Keep teaching your class. Zhuliu is watching my sect and my sons, I have all the time in the world!”
Lan Qiren is going to qi deviate. At thirty-seven years of age, the sole caregiver of two young children, running the Gusu Lan Sect in everything but name, and still teaching classes every year – he thinks he’s earned the right to say that he’s too old for this. And now, there is a petulant child in the body of a twenty-some year-old man sitting and pouting in the middle of his classroom. While most people seem to mature with age, this person only seems to get more and more annoying!
A vein pulses in the side of Lan Qiren’s head. “For the last time, Sect Leader Wen,” he grits out, “Leave.”
Wen Ruohan, sitting cross-legged on the floor, arms crossed, makes a ‘hmf’-ing sound. “Won’t.”
The disciples Lan Qiren had been teaching up until a few moments ago are all slowly shuffling away from Wen Ruohan and flattening themselves against the walls, the guest disciples are fearfully whispering amongst themselves, and the Gusu Lan Sect’s disciples are afraid in stony silence.
“Wen Ruohan,” Lan Qiren says sharply. “What is the meaning of this? Has my Gusu Lan Sect offended you in any way?”
“It’s not that at all!”
“Then it is a personal grudge against me?”
“It’s not that either!”
“Then what is it?!”
Wen Ruohan glances up. “Master Lan, I like you. I want you to marry me,” he says with no preamble, and a charming smile.
There are collective gasps from the disciples, and everyone looks at Lan Qiren.
There is a silence, and then a sharp crack as Lan Qiren crushes the fine jade-handled calligraphy brush in his hand to dust. “Wen Ruohan, have you gone mad?” Lan Qiren growls.
“I’m serious,” Wen Ruohan says. “I really like you!”
“This is already a diplomatic disaster; do you intend to make it even worse by mocking me?!”
Wen Ruohan opens his mouth to say something again, but Lan Qiren rises from behind his desk and walks slowly down to where Wen Ruohan sits. Lan Qiren’s spiritual energy descends like a storm over the room. The Gusu Lan Sect’s sigil is clouds, but what many often forget is that not all clouds are gentle. Lan Qiren is a tempest in human form, and as he glares down at Wen Ruohan, lighting crackles in his gaze.
The disciples flatten themselves against the walls, and someone whimpers. Nobody can decide who they are more afraid of.
“Wen Ruohan,” Lan Qiren thunders, “If you do not get out of here right now, there is no telling what I may do to you!”
Wen Ruohan is almost frozen, having fallen onto his palms and scooted back on his butt, as if completely forgetting that he, too, is a powerful cultivator in his own right. His throat bobs as he visibly swallows, and then he tries to cross one leg over the other.
“So, uh, what are you going to do to me?” he finally asks.
Lan Qiren can feel his qi deviating as he looks at Wen Ruohan. “I challenge you to a duel,” he grits out, stifling his rage, and straightening his back. “At the highest point of the mountain, outside the bounds of the Cloud Recesses.”
“Ah? Master Lan, wait, isn’t this too harsh?” Wen Ruohan tries to reason, standing up and smoothing out his robes, “I’m never one to back down from a fight, but I’m not trying to fight you, I just like you.”
Lan Qiren outwardly ignores these words and inwardly seethes at the sheer audacity. “The match will be decided by sundown. The one who lands the most hits will be declared the winner.”
“What if it’s over before sundown?” Wen Ruohan asks, already eager, stretching his arms behind himself.
“Don’t be arrogant,” Lan Qiren spits, lip curling. “The rules are as follows. We will use swords as a primary weapon. Use of spiritual energy as a weapon is allowed. Talismans are prohibited. Use of physical strength is allowed. Biting and scratching is prohibited. Verbal degradation is not prohibited.”
--
Before long, the rumor of Lan Qiren’s and Wen Ruohan’s duel spreads through the Cloud Recesses. The disciples mutter amongst each other, excited and fearful, daring each other to hide in the forest to watch the duel.
“A fight between our Master Lan and Sect Leader Wen? It’s going to be epic.”
The visiting disciples are already placing bets on who will win, and some of the more adventurous Lan Sect disciples join in. Gambling may be forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, but surely, what Master Lan doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
“Come on, it’s got to be Wen Ruohan – I’ve heard he’s part fire demon.”
“That’s crap. He’s just a very good cultivator.”
“Master Lan has a pretty good chance, though, you know? I heard that his qi control and his swordsmanship are second to none under the heavens.”
“Of the masters of their generation,” a high-ranking disciple says, “Our Master Lan and Sect Leader Wen are the closest to achieving immortality.”
“It may be a pretty even fight, then.”
Another rumor that spreads is that of Wen Ruohan’s proposal.
“Sect Leader Wen is a cut-sleeve? That’s unexpected.”
“Do you think Master Lan is a cut-sleeve too? He doesn’t have a wife, you know.”
“I don’t think he’s a cut-sleeve. He’s probably just too busy to get married.”
“Come on, when Wen Ruohan proposed to him, Lan Qiren looked like he wanted to tear the guy’s head off. I actually felt kind of bad for him. There’s no way Lan Qiren likes him, even if he does like men.”
“How do they know each other? Besides in formal settings?”
“I know that ten years ago, Sect Leader Wen was a guest disciple at the Cloud Recesses. At that time, he must’ve been taught by Master Lan, no?”
“…This is kind of like that book my sister won’t stop reading. ‘The Resentment of… uh, Dongshan’?”
“Chunshan, not Dongshan. You mean, the one about where the disciple comes back as a powerful demon lord and then nails his master with his 'heavenly pillar'?”
There are smattered, nervous giggles.
"I really didn't want to hear those words be associated with Master Lan…" someone sighs. "Just imagining something like that makes my eyes hurt."
“Heh… Probably make Master Lan’s back hurt, too.”
“Please shut up.”
--
Hiding behind trees and rocks on the edge of the forest facing the mountain peak, the disciples all hold their breaths and try to be as inconspicuous as possible. Everyone is extremely aware that they shouldn’t be here, and entirely unsure what would happen if they were found, except that it would be bad.
Wen Ruohan leans against a boulder, sword sheathed at his side and expression excited.
Lan Qiren arrives a little later, alighting from his sword to land lightly on top of a boulder across from Wen Ruohan. His sword remains hovering in the air over his shoulder. “Let us begin,” he says, by way of greeting.
Wen Ruohan grins. “Alright!”
They stand in silence, two masters measuring each other up before engaging. They leap at each other at exactly the same time.
Wen Ruohan is a flaming arrow, twisting through the air, his sword’s blade reflecting flames that are nowhere to be seen.
Lan Qiren is a spear of ice, the look in his eyes colder than the glowing blue steel of his sword.
They cross swords in midair, and sparks fly.
In the forest, where the disciples are watching with bated breath, there are a few stifled gasps of wonder. Such a fight is rare to see in one’s lifetime, though the circumstances are certainly odd.
Wen Ruohan flips backwards, out of reach of Lan Qiren’s wide slash – and Lan Qiren fluidly moves to avoid several direct strikes from Wen Ruohan’s sword, until Wen Ruohan makes a powerful jab forward, putting his spiritual energy into a fireball that rolls from the blade of the sword and obliterates a bolder on the mountainside.
When the smoke and stone dust clears, Lan Qiren is no longer in front of Wen Ruohan…
…But behind him.
Wen Ruohan ducks just in time, as Lan Qiren’s sword cuts right by where his back would have been. Bracing himself with one hand against the ground, Wen Ruohan’s legs spin out in a powerful kick at Lan Qiren’s legs, while simultaneously slashing out at his middle.
Lan Qiren leaps into the air, avoiding both strikes, and landing on the blade of Wen Ruohan’s sword.
Wen Ruohan gasps.
“…Sect Leader Wen has been holding back,” Lan Qiren says coldly.
Wen Ruohan growls and draws back, leaving Lan Qiren to land smoothly a few yards away. “Can Master Lan take me if I don’t hold back?”
Lan Qiren’s lip curls. “Try me.”
That is enough of a call to action for Wen Ruohan, who moves so quickly that his shape seems to flicker, before he appears in front of Lan Qiren, flame in the palm of his hand.
Lan Qiren moves with great agility and speed surprising for one of his strong and broad build, bending back with an impressive flexibility as Wen Ruohan’s flaming hand punches forward, then coming right back up.
So quickly that nobody realizes what has happened until later, Lan Qiren’s sword switches hands, and he slashes across Wen Ruohan’s chest.
Wen Ruohan is in too close quarters to move away, and the sword’s point catches him in a long, shallow gash, and a spray of blood. He flies back, hand instinctively going to his wound.
With Wen Ruohan’s blood sprayed across half his face, and rage in his eyes, Lan Qiren looks terrifying. “You still haven’t gotten serious!” he roars. “What is this?!”
Wen Ruohan rights himself, and now his eyes are blazing. His qi explodes out of him in a wild firestorm, whipping his hair and appearing as shimmering half-corporeal flames in a bright aura around him. He throws his head back and yells, and the sound echoes through the mountains. The rumors describing him as a fire demon are not true in sooth, but in appearance, there is no other description.
Fire gathers in both of his palms, and when his head snaps down, he joins his hands together, and sends the blast straight into Lan Qiren’s chest.
Lan Qiren tries to block it with his sword, but slides backwards in the dust as the full force of Wen Ruohan’s firepower bears down on him – and finally he gets thrown back.
Lan Qiren flies backwards, blasted into the side of the mountain. He hits the rocks with his back, then falls back to the ground, landing on one knee, leaning heavily on his sword. He bows his head in a cough, and spits blood. “Much better,” he says hoarsely.
Wen Ruohan looks proud. "I’ve gotten even stronger."
Lan Qiren rights himself slowly. "You still lack control, however."
When he looks up, the lightning is not gone from his eyes. With inhuman speed to rival Wen Ruohan’s, he darts forward. His sword leaves his hand and flies before him at an even greater speed than himself, slashing in a wide arc, sword glare burning the edge of Wen Ruohan’s sleeve as he barely turns away on time.
Lan Qiren’s sword switches hands again, and he moves in a backhand slash.
Wen Ruohan raises his sword to block, and their swords screech against each other edge-to-edge. But Wen Ruohan’s focus is on the wrong thing entirely. Lan Qiren slips past his defense, electric blue energy swirling in his palm.
When his palm strikes flat against Wen Ruohan’s chest, Wen Ruohan stumbles backwards, but Lan Qiren’s eyes widen as Wen Ruohan absorbs the spiritual energy attack.
Lan Qiren looks enraged, Wen Ruohan a little surprised, and then they're kissing – swords dropping to the ground, Wen Ruohan's long nails scratching against Lan Qiren's robes as he scrabbles for purchase, and Lan Qiren's fingers tangled in Wen Ruohan's hair.
The adrenaline has not worn off, and the kiss is desperate, a promise of mutual devouring. The sun sets behind them.
Hiding behind trees, the disciples are shocked at this sudden turnaround of events. Though some hands exchange money, others cover their eyes, while others allow themselves to stare in shock, horror, or pleasant surprise.
“Wait, so who won?” someone whispers.
“…Love.”
“I want my money back.”