Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tags:

platonic 3zun, implied future romantic 3zun, sex work, sex workers, implied past assault, non-consensual drug use by an NPC (not a main character or good guy)

Prompt:

Meng Yao didn't go undercover with then Wens, instead he stayed with Xichen. Because "reasons", after meeting back up with everyone, 3zun (who aren't yet 3zun) go on a scouting trip into Wen territory. Because the Wen army is so thick on the ground the trio ends up renting an empty room at a brothel. (Meng Yao does some behind the scenes bartering with the Madam who is no fan of the Wens, because the Wens are bad for business (they never fricken pay).)

The Wen soldiers show up to the brothel for a 'spot inspection' (something the Madam mentioned was a possibility while she was bemoaning the Wens) and Meng Yao shoves Mingjue and Xichen into a closet/side room thing just in time.

The pair watches through the cracks as Meng Yao puts on an act. There's a close call with Xichen's zither/guqin, but Meng Yao brushes it of with 'oh that was a gift from a rich merchant who liked to watch me play, had a thing for hands', and manages to back up the claim by playing a song. (one of the soldiers tries to make a request but Meng Yao shoots back with 'if you're going to make requests you should be paying me first.')

The soldiers leave but Meng Yao signals for his companions to stay in hiding, which proves to be a good thing when another worker enters a few minutes later while Meng Yao is straightening the room. The Sect leaders are stuck listening as Meng Yao keeps up the act and pours tea and plays a round of 'worst clients' with the woman. (Xichen and Mingjue are uncomfortable at how well Meng Yao plays the part, grimacing at the clients Meng Yao comes up with (a merchant who liked to choke his partners 'put me out of work for a week, do you know how hard it is to fake a moan with a bruised throat', a military man who was promoted above his abilities because nepotism, and one man who burned a silk robe 'it was both the nicest and most expensive thing I'd ever owned, it was a gift from a scholar who like the look of it on me, and this man just burned it, and he threw it at me too, the little metal beads burned me, look') and Mingjue freezes, because he knows the injury Meng Yao is talking about, has seen Meng Yao in the communal baths/hot springs once or twice (a month and in no way by accident) and knows it's a real injury that Meng Yao always deflects questions about.

Mingjue and Xichen deal with the realisation that Meng Yao may not have been just a prostitute's son, but a prostitute himself.

(“Well you know what they say: don't come into a brothel if you don't want to get screwed.”)

(The visiting prostitute was hired by the Wen soldiers to find out if Meng Yao was really a prostitute travelling to a new brothel. All signs point to yes. (Meng Yao almost has to take a Wen client to ensure Mingjue and Xichen get away cleanly, but the man passes out first (because Meng Yao dosed him with something). "just because you can't remember it doesn't mean it didn't happen, your time is already up, so unless you want to pay for more..."))

Chapter Text

Meng Yao glanced to the side, eyes assessing his travelling companions. When his mother had encouraged him to reach for the stars and take up his birthright (ha, what a joke), he was certain that she didn't mean this.

After they had met up with everyone, for reasons that still didn't make sense to Meng Yao ("There's safety in numbers, A-Yao," his mother whispered to him, "and there's security with those who hate others more than they hate you."), they had split up once again (and he really wondered what the point of getting back to the others was).

Unsurprisingly, it had been Nie-zhongzu's suggestion.

Meng Yao, Nie-zhongzu, and Zewu-jun, had unceremoniously ended up going on a scouting trip. In land thick with Wen's. Meng Yao had not been enthusiastic about the idea, but Zewu-jun had agreed with Nie Mingjue. That was two out of three, and Meng Yao didn't bother saying anything. The likelihood of him being listened to was slim to none anyway, and Nie-zhongzu had been eyeing him like he was daring him to say anything.

Meng Yao's self-preservation instincts were second to none, and he kept his mouth glued shut. Very, very tightly.

He wasn't sure why he was here. Technically, as a Nie disciple, he was supposed to be wherever Nie-zhongzu wanted him to be, but. Nie-zhongzu's guards were also there, and they were much higher in cultivation than him. It naturally made more sense for them to actually be here instead of Meng Yao, but once again, he said nothing.

It wasn't his place.

And while he wasn't very pleased with being stuck in Wen territory, Meng Yao liked Zewu-jun. The man was kind and beautiful and was the first person not to recognize him as a whore-son. Even Nie-zhongzu had, though his expression had immediately turned apologetic and uncomfortable (which Meng Yao didn't entirely trust; why would Nie-zhongzu feel sorry for calling him as he was?) and had bullied off anyone that called him that within earshot. Nie-zhongzu was also nicer than most people.

Also, between Wen soldiers and Nie soldiers, Meng Yao would take the Wen's. The Nie soldiers had a fondness for putting him in dangerous situations out of spite and mockery, and the Wen's could at least be distracted by certain talents.

Even if Meng Yao wasn't entirely thrilled to use those talents (but that wasn't the point. If he had to choose between dying and whoring himself out, he would choose the latter with no hesitation, no matter the bruises and scars and bleeding left on his used body).

"This is impossible," the low, rough voice of Nie-zhongzu broke him out of his thoughts.

Meng Yao bit his tongue. Hard.

"There are too many Wen-dogs for us to gain any real headway," Nie-zhongzu elaborated in their silence. "At this rate, we're more likely to get caught than anything."

Meng Yao counts to three. He considers. "There's a brothel up ahead," he says neutrally. "We can stay there to regain our bearings." He leaves the offer hanging in the air.

Surprisingly, it's Zewu-jun that agrees to it. "That's a good idea," he admits. "We need somewhere to stay for the night. And a–" his face twists in discomfort. Likely the Lan Rules prevented him from finishing the statement.

"Brothel," Nie-zhongzu says calmly.

"Yes," Zewu-jun says gratefully. "While not the best, it's much better than staying out."

Meng Yao doesn't react to the (hopefully unintended) insult. He just nods. "We can go through the side entrance," he says, mind whirring through possibilities.

"What side entrance?" Nie-zhongzu says suspiciously. "Have you been here before?"

Meng Yao counts to three again. "No," he says a bit more tightly than he had intended. He kicks himself.

"Then how do you know?"

"I was raised in a brothel," Meng Yao answers. That is what he says instead of: I know this because brothels have places for the workers to escape when things get too bad, and places for those hiding to enter. Nie-zhongzu thankfully doesn't say anything else. He leads them into the hidden side entrance without another word, and takes a deep breath before jamming the door open.

Meng Yao gives a disarming smile to the Madam that appears in the next second, and neatly ushers the two of them off to the side, while simultaneously moving further away. He has a room to get.

Behind his back as Meng Yao talks to the cool-faced Madam, Lan Xichen gives Nie Mingjue an accusing look, and Nie Mingjue winces. "I know," Nie Mingjue mutters before Lan Xichen has the chance to say anything.

Not like he has to, Nie Mingjue thinks. The disappointed stare was a weapon all on its own. "I'll apologize," he adds when Lan Xichen doesn't look satisfied.

Finally, Lan Xichen nods. "Good. You should be nicer to him," the rebuke is subtle but there.

Nie Mingjue sighs. "I don't mean to be an asshole, you know," he grumbles. "It's quite the opposite." It's true. Nie Mingjue does like Meng Yao. At first he was a bit uneasy, but he got over that quickly. It made him no better than the others looking down on Meng Yao for some perceived slight or something, all because he was born to a prostitute.

And then the neutrality grew into liking and respect. Meng Yao is extremely efficient. He wrangles people into submission with a charm and wit that Nie Mingjue could never muster, and tackles piles of paperwork bigger than his head with such ease that it makes his aides cry in jealous longing. Meng Yao just fits. He might not have high cultivation, but he's competent and clever.

Sure, some of his methods make Nie Mingjue feel doubtful, but it's just the way Meng Yao is raised and used to surviving. If Nie Mingjue was Jin Guangshan's bastard, he would do anything he needed to do to survive as well. Nie Mingjue has been trying to make overtures to Meng Yao, an apology for putting his foot into his mouth so many times, but it hasn't exactly been working.

Lan Xichen gives him a commiserating look, and gently pats his arm in comfort. 

It hasn't been working because everytime Meng Yao might start warming up to him, Nie Mingjue goes and makes it worse. He genuinely doesn't mean to. He likes Meng Yao. Nie Mingjue thinks he's competent and professional and attractive as hell (the last he will never say out loud), and wants to be friends with him.

However, he isn't exactly good at the making friends part — something Lan Xichen can attest to. Nie Mingjue had made Lan Xichen cry twice before he had figured out that Nie Mingjue was socially incompetent and just wanted to make friends. Nie Mingjue hasn't managed to make Meng Yao cry (yet), but he has a feeling that says more about Meng Yao's general composure and demeanor than any real improvement of his.

Hence why he messes up so often — like questioning Meng Yao about something that's not only difficult for him, but something that he probably (read: definitely) knows.

Nie Mingjue isn't blind. He's brash, rough, but he definitely isn't blind, and can see the way his soldiers and disciples treat Meng Yao. He tries to stop it, but there's only so much he can do, and most of the time he's not around to even see it, and Meng Yao never talks about it. Meng Yao just smiles that fake smile that makes Nie Mingjue's heart crumble inside of him and says everything is alright. How can Nie Mingjue help him when he doesn't even know half of what's going on?

But yes, not his brightest moment. Then again, not many of his brighter moments are around Meng Yao. Nie Huaisang would probably know why, but Nie Mingjue doesn't think it's the best idea to ask Nie Huaisang about this. It feels oddly sensitive and private, which is strange, but just makes him feel like his instincts are right.

After a few minutes, he can see the Madam smile (something that Nie Mingjue would never be able to do, but is apparently something that Meng Yao can do because he's just incredible like that), and Meng Yao laughs. It rings in a way that tells Nie Mingjue that it's more honest than he usually laughs, and Nie Mingjue isn't sure whether to be jealous or not.

The gentle grip Lan Xichen had on his arm tightens, and Nie Mingjue blinks, before noticing how intensely Lan Xichen is staring at Madam and Meng Yao.

Meng Yao's throat is tilted back, revealing smooth white expanse — like white peaches — and his dimples are like dents in the finest cream. Nie Mingjue meets Lan Xichen's wide eyes.

Nie Mingjue thinks he should be jealous.

Meng Yao turns to them, and walks over. As he walks over, his smile constricts to something that a noble might consider to be more 'appropriate' or some other bullshit, and his dimples are no longer as noticeable. He looks restrained.

Definitely jealous.

Meng Yao nods to Nie-zhongzu and Zewu-jun. "Madam agreed to let us stay for the night."

"What about payment?" The good and honest Zewu-jun asks immediately.

Meng Yao shrugs. "I just said that we're here against the Wen's and a few other things. No payment necessary."

Nie-zhongzu frowns. "Are you sure that's a good idea? What if she's a spy or something?"

Meng Yao tries to keep a pleasant smile on his face, but he's tired of being doubted. Sure, he'll never be as good as them, but he's smart. He knows people. He isn't useless. "The Wen's are bad for business. Anything that makes them go away is welcome in her books. Please follow me," he adds politely, turning so that he can't see evidence of their suspicion anymore. 

He feels a little tired.

Maybe some rest will do him good.

Lan Xichen watches as Nie Mingjue wilts as Meng Yao's shoulders tighten ever-so-slightly.

Lan Xichen knows that Nie Mingjue doesn't mean any harm by his questions. The burly man is the biggest mother-hen that Lan Xichen knows, and frets over everyone. This includes interrogating them in their well-being and questioning their choices, all in a bid to make sure they're as safe as possible.

To people like Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang, they're used to it and welcome it. It's Nie Mingjue's way of showing affection; that and physical contact.

To people like Meng Yao, who has been treated so poorly that it makes Lan Xichen want to break certain Lan Rules, it likely feels like censure. Censure and judgement, and Lan Xichen sighs to himself.

Why is it that all the people he cares about have to be so bad at communication?

He keeps quiet, however — this is neither the time nor place for such vulnerability. And Lan Xichen isn't certain that Meng Yao would wiggle his way out of it.

The room that they enter (and Meng Yao summarily protects by way of lodging a block of wood against the door) is nice. Decently sized, with a large mattress and a closet, as well as a few decorations on the walls. 

Meng Yao watches them with the same inscrutable look in his eyes that makes Lan Xichen wonder what he's thinking in that beautiful mind of his, and stays standing. It takes Lan Xichen a moment to realize, but then he inwardly sighs, and sits down. Nie Mingjue gives him a bemused look, and Lan Xichen tugs him down as well.

Only then does Meng Yao sit down.

Lan Xichen wishes that he didn't treat himself so lowly. Unfortunately, he suspects that isn't going to change anytime soon.

Lan Xichen places his guqin to the side, pulling it out of his qiankun pouch. It isn't the best for the instrument to be in there, so Lan Xichen likes to take it out as often as possible. "What should we do now?" Lan Xichen asks them.

Nie Mingjue frowns, brow furrowing in a way that Lan Xichen wishes he could smooth out. He averts his eyes, and looks over at Meng Yao, who's sitting more on the floor than the mattress, watching them with interest. Lan Xichen wants to pull him to the mattress with himself and Nie Mingjue, but he has a feeling that will only serve to make Meng Yao extremely uncomfortable and that will make him not talk and share his ideas, because he's afraid he might overstep.

Lan Xichen also wishes he could shake Meng Yao by the shoulders every time he talks or acts in such a way. And silence every deprecating word with a kiss.

Before Nie Mingjue can say anything, Meng Yao suddenly freezes, and his head cocks towards the door. Then he's standing with a rush, ignoring his usual manners. "Get up," his voice is firm and sharp, and heat threatens to boil in the bottom of Lan Xichen's stomach at the sound, right before he squashes it because clearly, something is wrong.

Before he can ask what's going on, Meng Yao has shoved them into the closet with astonishing strength and speed, and tightly closed the door.

This happens just as the door to the room is roughly knocked.

Nie Mingjue shares a stunned look with Lan Xichen in the dim light of the closet. Neither of them had heard any indication of someone moving towards the room, and Nie Mingjue doesn't know if it means that his listening skills are that bad or if Meng Yao is just very observant. Maybe a bit of both.

With a mutual look of agreement, they press up to the crack in the closet door, and watch intensely.

Meng Yao takes a deep breath in, and lets it out in whoosh. He's terrified, but at the same time he feels more sure than he's been for a while.

This is where he was raised, where he worked, and where he learned most of the lessons life had to offer. Meng Yao knows what to do. Time seems to slow down marginally, and Meng Yao moves fast.

Stripping off the plain over robe he has on, he tucks it under the mattress with lightning speed. This leaves him in his under robes. Meng Yao is cheap — partly from necessity, partly from habit. His over robes that he buys or makes are made plainly and solidly, thickly woven wool or cotton dyed single colors. Durable but nice.

The one thing he isn't cheap with is his inner robes. A habit from when he worked at brothels, but they're finely made — cotton spun so thinly that it feels like silk, actual silks sometimes, sheer gauze — entrancing and beautiful and seductive. This comes in handy right now, when he's left looking like the role (not a role — what he actually is) he needs to play. 

The door is kicked this time, and Meng Yao opens it.

Lan Xichen is pretty sure he nearly chokes on his spit when he sees Meng Yao's long fingers tug and unwind the belt keeping his robe closed. Luckily, Nie Mingjue won't judge him for it because he's not much better off.

Nie Mingjue looks like he's been slapped with a fish, and Lan Xichen entirely sympathizes with him.

Meng Yao looks like the huli jing that Lan Xichen has seen in the older books at the back of the Gusu Lan library. His hair is done in a complicated style that Lan Xichen never fully appreciated before — some half-up, half-down twist with tucks and weaves that emphasize the long curve of his neck and his delicate facial structure.

And the inner robes… Finely made inner robes are, of course, common in cultivators. It's just that with the durable and presentable outer robes that Meng Yao wears, Lan Xichen would never expect him to wear inner robes like those. From what he can see, he thinks it might be two layers — a thicker inner layer made of very finely woven fabric, maybe silk or thin linen. The other one is nothing but sheer material, folded around Meng Yao in a way that emphasizes every curve and line of his slender body.

Nie Mingjue turns around abruptly, and buries his face into Lan Xichen's shoulder. Lan Xichen pats him lightly on the back. He feels the same way.

When Meng Yao goes ahead and opens the door, Lan Xichen's heart jumps into his throat. There at the door is a group of Wen soldiers. How did Meng Yao hear it?

He doesn't know, and doesn't particularly care because Meng Yao is smiling at them — smiling coyly.

Meng Yao's smile is flirty and welcoming, and the dimples in his cheek constrict just-so, making him seem both adorable and–and—

"Sexy," Nie Mingjue breathes, impossibly quiet, so quiet that Lan Xichen can barely hear it.

But he does hear it, and agrees. Meng Yao is very — his face is turning warm, and he tries to focus on the conversation instead of the play of light and shadow on Meng Yao's smooth limbs.

"Hello," Meng Yao says, and it's like a punch to the stomach.

Meng Yao is — he is normally very professional. Polite and respectful and humble to a fault (so deprecating it made Lan Xichen hurt inside). Meng Yao is calm while speaking and diplomatic. His tone is soft without being quiet, assertive without overstepping, and reserved without being closed off.

Meng Yao right now sounds like none of those things. He sounds like–like–like–

"Oh shit," Nie Mingjue says helplessly, also very, very quietly, and Lan Xichen agrees.

From the crack through the door, Lan Xichen can clearly make out Meng Yao and a few of the Wen soldiers. Several of the soldiers are eyeing Meng Yao in a way that makes Lan Xichen unnaturally furious, and it's all he can do to grasp Nie Mingjue's forearms (and thus preventing him from moving forward) and lock his body into place. It will do no favors for Meng Yao if they ruin his plans, and he deserves to be trusted.

"Ah–" the soldier stops short, and another one roughly takes over.

"What's your name?" He barks, and Lan Xichen hates him for that.

Meng Yao draws away a little, eyes wide. His face turns haughty and insulted, and he pulls his robes around him closely — which has a devastating effect. It's the move of a scornful noblewoman, who is signaling rejection. But it also highlights every single curve and muscle of his body, and Lan Xichen bites down on his inner cheek.

There's not a Rule against that. And besides — extenuating circumstances.

"Please excuse us," another soldier smiles falsely, and his eyes look like Jin Guangshan's at his most lustful. "This is just a routine inspection, ah." As he talks, he moves forward, and Meng Yao smoothly moves to the side. 

In a single moment, the soldiers are in, and Meng Yao has managed to pull a tea set out of seemingly nowhere and has served them all tea. Lan Xichen uses the word loosely, because the cups have also been half-filled with a jar of wine.

After a few minutes of talking, Meng Yao is all smiles again. "So, how may I help you?" His voice is breathy and light, like he's a bit out of breath from doing some strenuous activity. Running, perhaps, or–

Lan Xichen stuffs the thought to the deepest recesses of his mind that he does not explore unless he's either with Nie Mingjue in a private location (namely, Nie Mingjue's rooms) or inside his hanshi.

The lustful soldier leans closer to Meng Yao, eyes roving his body with a salacious sort of hunger that makes Lan Xichen disgusted on Meng Yao's behalf. "Ah, nothing needed," he says. "Just wondering–" his eyes move from Meng Yao's body and lazily rove over the room.

He frowns. Pauses. "Ah, what's that instrument doing here?"

Lan Xichen turns cold. His guqin! Lan Xichen can feel his hand tighten involuntarily around Nie Mingjue's arm. Nie Mingjue let him, likely because he was also squeezing Lan Xichen tightly. He had brought it out, and thanks to his lack of observation skills, hadn't even noticed. And now Meng Yao was going to be left to deal with the fallout.

Every time Lan Xichen felt like things couldn't get worse, they almost always did.

It was not a great feeling.

Meng Yao, however, didn't seem to share both of their concerns. "Hm? Oh, that? It was a gift," and Meng Yao cast a coquettish look at the soldiers. "From a wealthy merchant, see?"

Graceful fingers lifted the guqin from where it sat, and held it with remarkable ease. It wasn't perfect, Lan Xichen noted in the back of his mind, but for someone with no formal training — even Shufu would consider something like that to be prodigal.

"Really?" Another soldier asked skeptically. "You can play?"

Meng Yao giggled. It was something that Lan Xichen had never heard out of his mouth before — full and sweet, like the tinkling of bells, or the delicate sound of water dripping from a stream. "Oh, yes," Meng Yao tossed his head back, his long hair trailing beautifully down his delicate neck and shoulders.

Meng Yao peered up at them with a dancing smile through long eyelashes. Those long eyelashes, Lan Xichen knew, haunted Nie Mingjue's dreams. Nie Mingjue barely suppressed a low hiss.

And then he started playing, and Lan Xichen could no longer be surprised. By anything Meng Yao could do. Not only was he brilliant in putting on such an act, but apparently he could figure out how to play a guqin, with no formal training that Lan Xichen knew of, on the spot.

The pretty and bright notes of a popular street song filter through the room, and Nie Mingjue turns towards Lan Xichen in a silent question.

Did you know he could do that? His eyes ask.

Lan Xichen shook his head. No. Did you?

Nie Mingjue shook his head. They both turned back to the crack.

The soldiers clap, looking impressed. "Thank you," Meng Yao says sweetly. Lan Xichen wouldn't think it suited him, but as he's quickly learning, everything suits Meng Yao when he puts his mind to it "The merchant that gave me had a… favor for hands," and he bats his long, long eyelashes.

"Hey, you should play another song," one soldier insists. The other soldiers look at him, confused.

"That's payment for services rendered, isn't it?" And Meng Yao's voice is still sweet, but his smile holds an edge to it that makes the soldiers stiffen.

The soldier that had spoken looks around for help, and finding none, backs down. "Ah… perhaps another time," he quickly said. "We'll leave you to it."

They rise, and leave. Lan Xichen is about to exit and congratulate Meng Yao on such a beautifully done job, and praise his acting skills (because this can't be anything but an act, surely) but Meng Yao signals for them to stay down.

Lan Xichen doesn't understand.

Nie Mingjue can see the confusion on Lan Xichen's face, but he agrees with Meng Yao. With this place teeming with soldiers, it's better to make sure that they're all out for real.

A second passes. Then another, and another. Meng Yao still does not give them the signal to come out. Nie Mingjue shifts restlessly — he isn't good with reconnaissance and hiding, except for when it's quick. 

Just then, the door is knocked. It's a distinctly feminine knock, and the door pushes open to reveal a pretty woman wearing the same sort of robes that Meng Yao is.

Meng Yao looks up, and Nie Mingjue blesses his foresight. Meng Yao smiles at her — a different sort of smile.

How many smiles does Meng Yao have? And which one have they seen? Nie Mingjue wants to see them all — capture them from his pink lips, watch him swallowed by Lan Xichen in the midst of a laugh or pout or moan. He silently curses his overeager imagination.

It's Nie Huaisang's fault, and all those spring books he buys.

"Hey, brother!" The prostitute greets Meng Yao with a friendly smile.

Meng Yao smiles back, just as friendly. "Hey, sister. What's up? You got a man who wants to share?" His tone is completely different.

Normally, Meng Yao has a standard accent — if Nie Mingjue listens intently, he might place it as a Jin regional accent. Now, his words have become almost slangy, and his tone has a twang to it that Nie Mingjue has never heard before. The prostitute speaks with the same accent, however, and the barest beginnings of a thought begin to form in Nie Mingjue's mind. How does Meng Yao know that accent?

Sure, he was raised in a brothel. Nothing wrong with that. He might pick up a few things too. But Nie Mingjue has never heard this accent being spoken before. It's like a code. A code that Meng Yao knows.

"Eh, not today," the woman laughs. "Hey, what's your call? I'm Bin."

"Bao's my call," Meng Yao slouches back almost lazily, displaying a stunning amount of pale, soft skin. "You want some tea?"

"Ah, sure thing!"

Meng Yao shuffles out a different set. This time, he doesn't put alcohol in it. "Got a reservation soon enough," Meng Yao says carelessly, "man's real particular. You know, the picky type."

Bin hisses in sympathy. "Yah, that type? Them's the worst, I swear. You know, I once had a man that used to tie me up to the headboard and use me till I was bleeding. Got off on that." Her tone is both an offering and a challenge.

Meng Yao raises an arched eyebrow and accepts. "Huh? That's nothing. Knew merchant that liked choking — you know. Damn man put me outta work for a week. You know how hard it is to fake a moan with a throat that's been wrung like a washcloth?"

"Ooh, that's the worst sort. Put you outta work and outta place. Once I had a noble that liked harsh play." Bin wrinkles her nose, and Meng Yao grimaces in apparent sympathy.

"Harsh play? The mind shit or the impact?" 

"Mind shit. Fucked me over, he was a damn mess all on his own."

"Shit, yeah? There was this one military man that came through — he had the swagger."

"Overpromoted?"

"Nepotism."

Bin swore. "No good, eh?"

"Didn't even know how to use his cock."

Nie Mingjue's ears feel warm. He's heard dirty talk before but — not like this, where it's harsh criticism and talk of injuries in such a casual way. Lan Xichen looks a mixture between horrified and thoughtful.

Nie Mingjue feels thoughtful himself. It's incredible how Meng Yao is able to come up with those sorts of things, and keep such a straight face.

"Ah, ah, I knew a fella that liked to pick up off the streets."

"I hate them public types," Meng Yao huffed. "Always putting on a show when they have nothing of worth."

"Yah! So annoying."

"Oh, but I know the worst."

Bin leans forward. "Eh? For real?"

"Jealous type."

Bin leans back. "Fuck. You right on that one. Jealous types are the worst types. Hate them so much!"

"One man burned a silk robe. Gift from a scholar; he liked the look on me. It was both the nicest and most expensive thing I ever owned, and he just burned it. See, look." Meng Yao pulled down his collar, revealing burn marks around his shoulders and upper ribs.

Nie Mingjue freezes.

"He threw it at me — see how the little beads burned me?"

Nie Mingjue feels like he's under water. Meng Yao and Bin are still talking, but Nie Mingjue can no longer pay attention. He knows that injury.

When he would see Meng Yao in the communal hot springs once or twice (a month, and definitely not accidentally), he had always noted that injury. Firstly, because it had seemed wrong for such an injury to be on Meng Yao. And it had such an unusual shape too — round circles that dragged, forming a streak of silvery scar tissue on Meng Yao's beautiful skin.

Meng Yao had always deflected questions about it, waving it off.

Nie Mingjue had just thought it was embarrassing or something. Now he knew that wasn't the case at all. Lan Xichen next to him is staring at him with a dawning sort of realization.

Nie Mingjue told Lan Xichen almost everything, and during their meet-ups, they liked to talk about Meng Yao. Not to gossip, but mostly to discuss his… actions.

(How fucking gorgeous he was for one, and the fact that Nie Mingjue almost definitely had a competency kink for him).

One of their topics had brought up the scar on his upper side. Lan Xichen knew perfectly well what was going on now; knew it as well as Nie Mingjue did.

Meng Yao had been a prostitute's son, true. But he had also been a prostitute himself.

The crushing sadness in Lan Xichen's eyes only further confirmed it. Thank his ancestors that nobody else knew of it. They were already cruel enough to Meng Yao — he didn't need any added ammunition.

And Meng Yao was one of the best people he had met. He had always been kind to Nie Huaisang, when very few others were, and was welcoming and friendly to boot. It wasn't fair that life had dealt him such a harsh hand. He should have been born a noble, and treated well. Not this, because Nie Mingjue had his doubts about exactly how willing Meng Yao was to go into prostitution in the first place.

"Well, you know what they say," one of them laughs — Nie Mingjue is too out of it to pay attention to figure out which one. "Don't go to a brothel if you don't want to get screwed."

Nie Mingjue takes deep breaths, pushing himself away from the sudden rage that overtook him. No need to go into a Qi Deviation.

"Eh, I gotta go," Bin says suddenly. "Almost time for my customer. Nice talking to ya, Bao!"

"Mn, ya too."

Bin leaves, and five seconds later, the door opens again. Nie Mingjue is running on tense adrenaline at this point.

It's the lustful Wen soldier, and the look in his eyes make it clear he's here for exactly one thing. Nie Mingjue thinks he might vomit. Nie Mingjue would never judge Meng Yao for this — would always want him with him and Lan Xichen — but to see him sleep with others? When he wouldn't even want to?

Lan Xichen looks like he's contemplating the seriousness of Rule 43: Do not succumb to rage. He looks seconds away from flying out there and punching the man. While Nie Mingjue is of two minds to go out there and help him, he isn't sure if the man still has people with him. They don't need people to be alerted, not when Meng Yao has risked so much.

Nie Mingjue knows that Meng Yao has basically bared parts of his soul to them. It was a big risk, acting in such a way with such high-ranking people with him. While Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen would never treat him differently, other nobles might have condemned and ruined him. But Meng Yao had sacrificed his reputation to save their lives. He was damned if he would ruin it.

So he held Lan Xichen back, and slowly shook his head. It would cause more harm than good right now.

"Eh, brother, you want to have some fun?" Meng Yao is flirty, and each word feels like a sword to the gut.

The soldier drops a bag of coins on the table in response, and moves forward with a predatory gaze. Each step is excruciating pain for Nie Mingjue, until he's forced to close his eyes lest he goes into an actual Qi Deviation.

That's also why he misses what happens next. There's a thud, then the sound of someone snoring. Nie Mingjue's eyes fly open.

The Wen soldier is fast asleep. He immediately realizes what must have happened — when he was pouring them tea, Meng Yao must have spiked certain people's cups. Not all of them, seeing as no alarm is raised, but Meng Yao had somehow had the foresight to tell who would have been a problem.

Nie Mingjue knows for certain that he definitely has a competency kink, and judging by Lan Xichen's hot gaze, he's developing one too.

In the process, Meng Yao rises quickly, and bustles around, putting the room into order. He drags the soldier onto the bed, ruffles it messily, and then proceeds to debauch himself.

His eyes become teary, Meng Yao bites his lips until they're a raw shade of red, and takes the man's hand and presses bruises into his skin. His hair is fluffy and full of fly-away strands, his robes are askew, and he looks like he's just gone through particularly rough marathon sex.

Then Meng Yao lies back across the wall, and settles down to wait. Nearly 7 minutes later, the man wakes up.

"Thank you for your time," Meng Yao says as soon as he becomes coherent.

The man stares, then becomes angry. "Eh?! I don't remember it! What do you mean?"

"Just because you don't remember it doesn't mean it didn't happen," and Meng Yao gestures to the beautiful mess he makes. The soldier looks grudgingly impressed by his supposed acts.

"But…"

"Your time is up. Unless you wish to pay more?"

The soldier balks at that, before snarling. "Eh, whatever. I'm coming back soon enough." He stands up, roughly pushing Meng Yao to the side, and stalks out of the room, the door slamming closed behind him.

Meng Yao rises gracefully, and moving across the room, blocks the door again. Then he turns to the closet. "You can come out now."

Nie Mingjue pushes his way out, Lan Xichen closely behind him. The closet is stuffy, and he's glad to be out of it.

Meng Yao shifts almost uneasily. "I'll–" he swallows, a break in composure. Nie Mingjue understands.

He's in a very precarious position right now. Meng Yao is brilliant. He knows that they likely know, and knows from likely personal experience, how easily people condemn him and where he comes from. Now that they know what he did, they can do anything to him.

Nie Mingjue steps forward. Lan Xichen follows, stately by his side. Meng Yao twitches, before forcing himself to stay still.

Meng Yao waits for the censure to come. The insults, the mocking words — he tilts his head down and waits for it to come. 

There's movement.

He's going to be struck then, and Meng Yao's heart hurts. It's stupid — why did he ever get attached in the first place? Why would he do something like that to himself?

Then the hand reaches out and pulls him forward, until he's sandwiched between two warm, hard bodies. Meng Yao is no stranger to sex — he was a prostitute, starting from when he was 12 until he was 17. He's had it all. But for some reason, this makes him feel hot around the collar, and he barely resists the urge to shift (and press up against those muscles — they're both built like gods).

"A-Yao," Nie Mingjue rumbles, and Meng Yao's ears burn red. Never had they treated him so familiarly. Do they want to bed him? Is that what the objective is?

"I think we've been silent for long enough," Lan Xichen continues conversationally.

Then Nie Mingjue is tipping his chin up, and he's watching. Watching as Lan Xichen reaches up and removes his forehead ribbon, tugging it loose. And then he's holding the silk, and Lan Xichen has reached out and grasped his wrist — and Nie Mingjue's wrist as well. Then Meng Yao feels the cool silk of the ribbon around his wrist.

Meng Yao is scholarly by nature.

He knows what this means.

"Ah," he squeaks out. They don't want to bed him. They– "Both of you?" He adds, just to be certain.

"Will you be ours?" Nie Mingjue asks him. And while he isn't sure of the future, and he isn't sure about many things (whether they really mean it, if it's a cruel joke, whether it can last), he's sure about what he feels inside.

What he's been feeling, even when Nie Mingjue criticized him (and he's starting to think there may have been a misunderstanding, judging from his heated eyes), and Lan Xichen seemed so far away.

Why, even when he used their titles, he could never find it in himself to truly distance them. 

Why his eyes always sought them out first and his mind went to them when was in his bed.

"Can we be yours?" Lan Xichen adds. "I know we need to talk more," he continues. 

"Please," Nie Mingjue says very simply, and Meng Yao's head is moving before he even knows it.

"Yes," he says. "Yes, please." The last part comes out as a broken little sob, and he's pressed tighter to them, and warm lips are on his, and large hands are on his waist.

Meng Yao isn't sure about a lot of things.

But he's sure about them.