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Killing someone is easier than he thought it would be. He had hoped his hands would tremble, that he’d feel sick to his stomach as the blade punctures flesh, feel dizzy at the sight of blood dripping from the saber. Instead he feels eerily at peace, the sound of war around him silencing itself down to a mere buzz. A crooked smile twists his lips as he watches the man bleed and crumble to the floor.
It’s what you deserve.
And then he hears Mingjue scream his name, the sound of a saber hitting the ground. This wasn’t meant to happen. The attack was meant to be quick and blamed on the casualties of war. He’s struck speechless at first, the only thing he can think of is to say Xue Yang did it, it wasn’t me!
But blood stains the hem of his robes, red soiling the grey, and there’s no doubt that Mingjue had seen exactly what happened. No, that lie will just not do. And seeing the way Mingjue’s eyes turn from surprise to disgust, he gambles that the truth will not do either.
—
Meng Yao knows many things about Nie Mingjue. He knows how little restraint he has when dealing with politics. He knows how stubborn and rash the man can be. He knows how young he was when he was given the title of a sect leader, grief-stricken and unprepared for it. He knows that Mingjue rarely cares for women, or men, or alcohol, or the finer things in life that Huaisang admires.
Mostly, he knows that Mingjue has never loved anyone as much as he loves his brother. That if it meant ensuring Huaisang’s safety versus holding strict to his self-righteousness, that he would save Huaisang. Over and over. There is no doubt in Meng Yao’s mind about that.
And he knows all he needs to know about Huaisang too: that he is loose in his morals. Where Mingjue is rash, Huaisang is sensible. Where Mingjue is stubborn, Huaisang shows leniency. He remembers the first time Huaisang had discussed the intriguing idea of demonic cultivation that he had discussed with Wei Wuxian in Gusu. He seemed curious, even hopeful at the idea that there was an easier way to cultivate despite his weak golden core. And Meng Yao knows Huaisang had told no one else in Qinghe of this idea. Only him.
Meng Yao knows Huaisang trusts him. In Huaisang’s eyes, he is an equal, a friend, that if he could ensure Meng Yao’s safety, he would do so. Even if it meant going against Mingjue. Perhaps not fully, not in all circumstances, but in this one —
Meng Yao has faith in Huaisang to make the right choice. Mingjue, he has very little faith in.
—
Mingjue throws him to the stone floor as he would discard any criminal. Resentfully, Meng Yao recalls how he treated Xue Yang more gently yesterday. This morning, Mingjue would have never laid a hand on him, would have never doubted him. But now, he is simply something to throw away.
Meng Yao crawls on his knees, pitiful, trying to get Mingjue to listen. Even just a glimmer of hope that he would understand who he is, would look at the things he is capable of doing and why he does them, and still accept him as a Nie, as family. But all he gets in return is Mingjue’s eyes going colder. Meng Yao’s inhale is shaky.
“He was harassing Huaisang!” He says it almost as a shout. He knows Huaisang is outside, pacing and pacing, and he wonders if the boy can hear. “He… he would say things about him too. I was worried for his safety! You have told me before, if it is my life or his, I am to give my own life. We all are. Nie Mingjue, I have only done what is expected of me.”
The words may be false, but if they were true, he would have done exactly as he claims to have done. No hands are to be laid on Huaisang; no ill-spoken words to be said to him. Meng Yao knows that. Mingjue knows that. But his eyes still look disbelieving, even as he throws Baxia back to where she belongs. He shouts loudly, making Meng Yao flinch, calling for Huaisang to come inside.
Huaisang’s steps are rushed. “Da-ge,” he begins, but Mingjue holds up a hand to silence him. Huaisang looks down at Meng Yao, and they hold eye contact for what can only be a few seconds. Meng Yao hopes it’s enough, looking down and away. Huaisang just turns back to his brother.
“Meng Yao claims that the general he killed had been harassing you. Is that true?”
Huaisang looks down, clutching his fan in his palm. Please, Meng Yao pleads silently, We have done so much for each other. Just one more.
“Ah, da-ge… Please don’t be mad I didn’t tell you.”
Meng Yao’s breath stills. His eyes move to Mingjue now, at the way his hands are curled into fists, a look of doubt still on him.
“Huaisang. Yes or no. Did that general harass you?”
Huaisang’s head just dips lower. And then, a dreadful sob, always the warning sign for when Huaisang is about to cry. Meng Yao has to bite down a smile as Huaisang nods his head, looking back up with tears falling down his cheeks. “Da-ge, he would say such terrible things! Sometimes when I was there, but not always. But Yao-ge would tell me how the things he said when I was not around were even worse. I… I told him I feared for my safety every night with that man around.” The boy wipes some tears away and looks down at Meng Yao. Meng Yao looks back, watches as Huaisang kneels right in front of him. “Yao-ge, you shouldn’t have done that for me! But… oh!” Another sob leaves him as his head lands on Meng Yao’s shoulder, body heavy and shaking as he cries.
Meng Yao strokes a hand through his hair, shushing him quietly. “I would do anything for you, A-Sang.” His words are loud enough for Mingjue to hear, but they are Huaisang’s alone. He feels one of Huaisang’s hand squeeze his waist, perhaps a silent, and I have proven I would too.
Huaisang continues to cry as moments pass. When Meng Yao looks at Mingjue, he looks distraught. Perhaps he feels horrified that someone he was willing to defend would do such a horrid thing to poor Huaisang. Perhaps he is looking for a reason to doubt the two of them still. Meng Yao’s hand does not stop smoothing Huaisang’s hair, knows the look on his own face is a mask of guilt and regret and gentleness as he stares back at Mingjue.
On the inside, all he can think is, I dare you to make me leave now. As if Huaisang can hear the threat inside his mind, his hand just tightens around his waist even more, anchoring him there with them.
—
When Huaisang comes to his room that night, he expects to be questioned instantly. Instead, Huaisang just presents him some new tea Mingjue had asked for from the nearby market. He thinks even the robes Huaisang wears are new.
Perhaps the lie was not completely selfless on Huaisang’s behalf. He thrives in the spotlight of attention, and Mingjue would surely treat him gently for months to come after learning exactly what he had been blind to.
They talk lightly as they drink tea, of some new art Huaisang is working on, how he’s been working on learning to cultivate with his fans, how Meng Yao should really let Huaisang buy him more decor for his room.
Eventually, Huaisang sighs. “Yao-ge. I do not know why you did what you did,” and Meng Yao freezes at the words. “But… your secret will always stay a secret. I believe you had your reasons. But next time, you should tell me before including me in such a ploy! You are lucky I was able to assume your intentions for telling such lies.”
Meng Yao’s smile is genuine. He has always known Huaisang is a talented actor, but he never knew just how deeply Huaisang seems to enjoy the lies and theatrics and dramatics. “I am grateful for what you have done for me.”
Huaisang just waves his hands at that, clicking his tongue. “Please, let us never mention it again. It is behind us now.” His eyes are playful as he wraps his arms around one of Meng Yao’s own, laying his head against Meng Yao’s shoulder. So much like how they held each other earlier but with less tears.
“And besides, I would never let anyone take you away from me, Yao-ge.”