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When news spread of Meng Yao’s kickdown at Jinlintai, nobody could have ever expected what that boy would do next.
Everyone thought he would simply bow his head and go about his life in shame, probably never daring to show his face in front of Jin Guangshan again.
But no. Never could anyone have thought that Meng Yao would start a cultural revolution instead. Never could anyone have thought that Meng Yao would begin a musical uprising—a new type of music that was so atrocious, old ladies covered their ears and babies screamed for their dad to come back with the milk.
It’s a cultural revolution.
It’s an infestation.
It’s world domination.
The world was shaking and quaking in its boots when Meng Yao introduced them all to the concept of screaming out your anger instead of killing to ease your anger . Just scream and scream, backed up by thunderous instrumentals, and scream some more.
It seriously works; Meng Yao can testify.
That bastard Wen Chao has nothing on me, Meng Yao thinks. All grown-up and still screaming for daddy, while I’m here screaming at daddy. Which one of us is superior?
Lan Xichen isn’t here today, which makes Meng Yao feel a little distraught.
After all, Lan Xichen is the reason why they’re able to do what they do. This absolute saint of a man took time out of his day to use cultivation and help make their instruments sound—well, downright demonic. He didn’t even question any of Meng Yao’s ridiculous requests, only looked at him with that face when he would make one.
Can you make this sound like a thousand zombies screaming all at once? Kind of like they’re stuck in hell but are mad because humans are also there.
Or:
Wait, I want this to sound like ghosts eating metal. Like there’s eerie ghost shrieking, but they’re also eating metal and it’s very crunchy.
That one had earned him an amused smile.
There’s not enough eardrum devastation here. Maybe we could add more death. Xue Yang, what do you think?
Xue Yang gave him a thumbs up. Lan Xichen gave him a slightly worried look.
Don’t worry, Zewu-jun! Su She had called, working on the drums. They don’t mean literal death, more like the sound of death!
Lan Xichen gave Meng Yao a pointed look that said, do I want to know? Meng Yao shook his head. No, you do not.
“Earth to Meng Yao,” Xue Yang drawls, snapping him out of his thoughts. “We have a fucking show to run. Let’s roll.”
They’re outside Jinlintai right now, attracting a grand crowd. They’re known for playing their furious hearts out to the most guttural and swaggy music the cultivational world has ever seen. The crowd expects a grand guttural show tonight, so a grand guttural show they will get.
Meng Yao begins with the tamest song as always, easing the audience into the more feral songs. He wishes Lan Xichen could see him right now. He’s come so far from the little boy he used to be, always seeking his father’s approval and plotting to hurt others to get it. Now, Meng Yao has a grand time screaming at society for all their misdeeds, specifically aiming some of the songs towards his dear father, Jin Guangshit.
Skull collector
Forgive me, yeah, I can do so much better
Oh, I'm a victim of bad circumstances
Can we make a deal
'Cause I'm all out of chances
It’s intensely freeing, to simply scream and yell your fucking brains out to grating background instrumentals that seem to support you like nothing else.
Xue Yang’s clearly having the time of his life on that guitar, and instead of destroying people, he’s now playing death music at them and destroying their eardrums. As long as he’s destroying something, he’s happy. Meng Yao’s just glad he’s not revenging clans anymore.
Su She hated Jin Zixun with a passion. But before Su She could exact whatever nasty vengeance he was planning, Meng Yao convinced him to try out the drums and smash them however hard he liked. Su She had taken it upon himself to see how many drums he could break if he smashed them hard enough, and a certain Jin Zixun, who was just walking past, had seen this and blushed.
Now, Zixun is in the crowd and staring at Su She like he’s the most delicious pork roast he’s ever seen. Meng Yao thinks Zixun is an idiot.
You have no idea what you’re getting into, bud, Meng Yao thinks. No. Fucking. Idea. Dear gods, Xue Yang’s crass language is really rubbing off on him. He must be careful not to let it show around Lan Xichen.
It’s Xue Yang’s vocal part now, and Meng Yao can give his lungs a break and busy himself with angrily strumming the guitar. He is one of those few geniuses in this godforsaken world that can have their fingers dance over an instrument perfectly, yet also be able to busy their minds with other things at the same time. Xue Yang’s favorite type of music is the spiteful kind, full of sarcasm and vengeance—though honestly, which one of their songs isn’t filled with vengeance?
An eye for an eye, a leg for a leg
A stab in the heart doesn’t make it unbreak
He really didn’t want to make it messy
He really, really didn’t, but the boy gone cray
Ah, the grimy guitar is such a nice instrument to scream to. It’s lovely to play when he’s supporting someone’s solo too, because it feels like he, the thunderous guitar, and Xue Yang, the screaming vocalist, are edging each other on.
Xue Yang’s clever, Meng Yao will give him that. The delinquent lad had tinkered with strings and wood until he’d made a sort of variation of the pipa that suited his gremlin tastes, and Lan Xichen had used cultivation to find a way to give the sound even more grime, spice and pizzazz. Whereas the pipa sounds like elegant rain, this monstrous brainchild of Xue Yang’s (with the help of Lan Xichen, bless him) sounds kind of like hell personified. Meng Yao loves it, although he will never tell Xue Yang that.
I think I’ll call it a guitar, Xue Yang had said. It sounds hateable. I like it.
Just like you? Meng Yao had said.
Shut the hell up, Xue Yang had said.
It’s time for Mo Xuanyu’s bass solo now. His dearest half-brother is playing his heart out, hair in a messy ponytail, sweating, breathing hard, one knee up and bending over with the guitar like he’s in his element. The element of swag.
Mo Xuanyu seems like a sweetheart on the surface (and he is, he really is) but there’s a vengeful anger that simmers underneath that, leftover from his abuse at the hands of his aunt’s family.
Meng Yao would honestly break their necks if he could, but he must never sink to Bastard Guangshan ™ 's level. He will just have to be content with letting the Mo family continue their miserable little lives, watching A-Xuan rise to cultivational fame while they stay in their stupid little shack and do nothing for society.
Meng Yao remembers their first meeting very clearly. It was back when Meng Yao was emotionally constipated and did not know how to shit out feelings, so he hadn’t known how to properly care for a sibling. Okay, maybe he’s still emotionally constipated and does not know how to shit out feelings, but he’s getting better, one slow shit at a time.
And even though he did have a crush on Meng Yao for some time, they’re past that now. Meng Yao assures him that there’s nothing wrong with homosexuality, and A-Xuan beams at him. Meng Yao also assures him that even though he can’t date relatives, he absolutely can date Nie Huaisang, and Xuanyu beams at him harder.
Speaking of Nie Huaisang—that headshaker’s in the crowd again, with eyes only for his dearest half-brother. He says he hates loud music, but will show up time and again to see Xuanyu rock it out on bass. Meng Yao agrees; his dearest little brother has truly grown into himself. Soon, he’s going to take over the top bachelors list, and Jin Zixun will become mad and get even stupider than he already is. Good. He will know his place as inferior to both Xuanyu and, hopefully, Su She.
If Jin Zixun finally grows balls and asks Su She out, then Meng Yao cannot help him. Su She was literally plotting the nastiest assassinations for Zixun, and when that comes out, oh boy. The drama will be piping hot.
Meng Yao wonders what would happen if he asked Lan Xichen out. Probably a full-scale calamity, because even though he is good at Seduction ™, he is not good at Love ™. This is perhaps why he has not grown enough Balls ™ to ask Lan Xichen out, because he thinks Lan Xichen deserves better than just good seduction. He deserves true love, and the way he is now, Meng Yao can’t give it to him. His mother had once said no one needed to be perfect to deserve love, but quite honestly, Meng Yao is a gremlin and cannot see himself with someone as good as Lan Xichen.
He shakes his head, pretending he’s doing it to shake his messy hair out of the way. This is not a topic he should think about right now, because he’ll go mad overthinking it.
So, back to his little brother. Now that he’s well into his solo and taking center stage, Xuanyu is truly a sight to behold, for both cut-sleeves and women alike. Nie Huaisang’s probably blushing behind his chunky fan right about now.
Nie Mingjue would kill him if he found out. Well—maybe not, as he absolutely adores Huaisang (even if he has a stone head and small balls and won’t admit it), but he’ll probably kill someone else. Someone like Meng Yao.
Honestly, Meng Yao doesn’t know why people believe he’s the mastermind of every plot (he is), because he doesn’t act that shady. Right?
But Meng Yao is proud of his handiwork, and nothing will take away from that. Through a series of intricately designed encounters that were orchestrated to induce maximum sexual tension, the Xuansang ship is now sailing smoothly. It is sailing smoothly at the cost of Meng Yao’s own health and sanity. If the ship had a hole and was leaking, Meng Yao would be the human shield to prevent that damn ocean from flooding it. Seriously, he himself is scared of the lengths he would go to in order to keep this ship afloat. It’s concerning, and it’s a problem.
All the nights where he set them up to ‘accidentally’ bump into each other, crouched behind shrubs and covered his ears to moaning noises, then made Lan Xichen cry laughing when he recounted the story miserably.
All the days where he burnt fingers trying to light rose-scented candles as fast as possible before the Xuansang could enter a room, then made an excuse to leave as soon as they came. Meng Yao also may or may not have ‘accidentally’ locked the door way too many times. It’s okay—he will just have to blame it on his old age. He’s mentally old. It counts.
Meng Yao’s screaming solo is up now. It’s the last song, so he hopes Lan Xichen will be here for it.
It was the first song he ever wrote, the night after Bitch Guangshan ordered him kicked down Jinlintai.
It’s fucking feral. Meng Yao is glad he does not see babies in the crowd, because this song is just absolute hell. He wrote it when he felt like going to hell, and wished to drag his father down with him. It’s only because of Lan Xichen that he didn’t.
Inject the reborn terror, the blood comes spurting out
Another to control, add it to your count
Orders to destroy, rip and tear apart
Wishing for the end, your dead is just the start
Ah, the satisfaction he feels every time he plays this. Meng Yao stubbornly insisted on playing the lead guitar and doing the guttural vocals at the same, and nobody (not even Xue Yang) had refuted him because this was his song.
Scream bloody gore
Scream bloody gore
In this song, Meng Yao can lose himself in that feeling of rage. It’s just music, it’s not going to hurt anybody, so he doesn’t have to restrain himself. There are others, too, who feel the same way. The crowd, mostly made up of angry adolescents, are right there screaming with him. There’s fire around the band as they play, and it’s so addicting to feel this way—young, wild, and free all together.
Through the smoke who will see
Who will come out alive?
Now it's your turn to feel the pain
Now it's your turn to die
The song ends with a bang. The fires rise higher and higher until no one can see with all the smoke, and after they die out, the band is gone. It’s their final disappearing act, like a smoke bomb.
The adolescents in the crowd usually stay for a while after, making friends out of their shared interest in rage music and bonding over frustrations towards society, their abusive relatives, the evil in the world—all of it.
It makes Meng Yao feel less alone, to witness this happening before his very eyes. He’d felt so alone back then, like he was alone in his rage and vengeance, like no one felt the same way he did. It’s only now that he knows as a certainty that many, many people do in fact feel the same way—the kids have just gotten better at covering it up.
The band finds their usual secret spot in the forest nearby, and Su She brings the wine.
Xue Yang chugs a jar and wipes his mouth messily. “What a fucking wicked show that was. Nice screaming, A-Yao.”
Meng Yao sighs, taking a jar. “If you call me that again, I will feed you to the pigs.”
Xue Yang snickers. “Right, because only one person can call you that, and his name is—”
“—your mom,” Meng Yao says flatly. “Your fucking mom, that’s who.”
Mo Xuanyu suddenly rises up, hugging three wine jars to his chest. “Sorry, gotta go! A-Sang wants to tell me something important apparently, although I dunno what. Great playing tonight, see you!” He salutes and grins before dashing off.
Xue Yang whistles. “The cut-sleeve strikes again. Did you have something to do with this, A-Yao?”
“Shut up,” Meng Yao says. “Of course I did. I am the protector of cut-sleeve couples. I had everything to do with it. If don’t fucking do it, no one else will. I cannot abandon them like the world did.”
Su She gives him a dopey grin, already drunk. “You act as if you and Zewu-jun are the exception, ge. It’s not very smart of you to do. You’re just fooling yourself, and nobody else.”
Meng Yao groans. Su She is unfiltered in his words when drunk, and today, it seems, he’s coming for Meng Yao’s neck.
Xue Yang grabs another jar, and gives Meng Yao a sinister grin. Oh, no. “You know, A-Yao, I did see that Lan of yours show up at your last song all slack-jawed and googly-eyed. It seems that he likes hearing you scream.”
Meng Yao wants to take away Xue Yang’s breathing privileges. “Firstly, respect his title: it’s Zewu-jun. And secondly, what in the fuck?”
Xue Yang’s smile only grows. “What in the fuck, indeed. You know, when two people fuck, they—”
Meng Yao covers his friend’s gremlin mouth with a hand. “No more,” he whispers gravely, “No more. I’ll confess to him tonight. Just don’t say another word, you little gremlin’s shit.” He knows Xue Yang is only trying to rile him up in order to get them together and doesn’t actually mean any harm. Unfortunately, Meng Yao also knows the lengths his friend is willing to go to in order to get his favorite ship together. Yes, Xiyao is Xue Yang’s favorite ship; it was something he’d let slip while drunk, and Meng Yao had filed it away in a mental box labelled ‘future blackmail’.
Xue Yang peeled Meng Yao’s hand off. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, you self-cockblocker.”
Meng Yao nearly threw a wine jar at him. “Says the person who’s pining harder than Su She.”
Speaking of Su She, he was completely conked out from both the wine and the exhaustion.
Xue Yang pretends not to hear and pushes him towards the path leading back to Jinlintai. “Come on, you fatherfucker, he’s probably still there waiting for you. ”
Meng Yao turns back. “Don’t you have someone, too?”
Xue Yang looks away, crossing his arms. “Nah. Unlike you, I have no chance.”
Meng Yao hums in sympathy before turning around again. “Maybe someday. Don’t you like men and women? That’s double the fish in the sea.”
Behind him, Xue Yang makes a tch noise. Ah, that means he’s embarrassed. “I bet I’ll get them faster than you if you don’t start to fucking move.”
Meng Yao flips him off, then runs out of the forest. It’s evening now, and as the sun sets, he thinks it’s the perfect romantic atmosphere. Setting up Huaisang and Xuanyu has really done something to him—it’s turned him into an unwilling romantic, because his brain now automatically scans everything in view for romantic opportunities to set people up with.
He supposes it’s not such a bad trait. Meng Yao just really wishes someone had told him what he was getting into before he let himself get so invested in this ship. He’s beyond redemption now, and the only thing that makes it worth it is Xuansang’s confession tonight. How does Meng Yao know Huaisang is confessing tonight? Because he’s the one who set it up, obviously. The ship must sail, because he is the captain.
Speaking of ships, Lan Xichen—one half of the Xiyao ship—is still here, just like Xue Yang said he would be. He sees Lan Xichen’s face light up when he spots Meng Yao running towards him, completely distracted from the vendor he was talking to.
Meng Yao (unlike Zixun) is not an idiot. He knows what this means, knows what all those looks mean. It’s the look of a besotten man, the look of absolute adoration. He just doesn’t understand why. Why adore him, even when Meng Yao’s a complete gremlin who spends his free time making demonic music and scaring the shit out of babies? Why does he like—god forbid, love —someone like him, who likes to cuss the living daylights out of innocent pigs and spent literal months crying over the same shitty romance novel?
He has nothing to offer, nothing except himself. And unfortunately, he doesn’t think of himself as very much. No one who comes from humble origins grows up thinking otherwise.
He slows his steps when he reaches Lan Xichen. Meng Yao puts his hands behind his back like he’s seen grandpas do, because it somehow makes him feel wise, and immediately looks down, avoiding eye contact. Not so wise, but okay.
Meng Yao then bows, as always, and Lan Xichen lifts his bow. “Huan-ge,” Meng Yao begins, and he very much likes the slight blush that incites (but still, what the hell, how did he end up with someone so good liking him so much?) because he’s lovely. Lan Xichen is absolutely lovely, and Meng Yao just. Cannot function.
Meng Yao looks down again. This is hard, harder than Zixun’s dick probably when finding Su She drunk in the forest right about now.
But then, Lan Xichen does what is called an over-powered move. He bends down (lowering himself for Meng Yao, who is now sobbing internally) and has that look on his face again. He suddenly has an idea for a new song—he thinks he’ll call it Shudder Before the Beautiful or something. Because goddamn.
“A-Yao, is everything alright?” Lan Xichen asks, because he’s the only human on earth Meng Yao would never cuss out, ever.
There’s a beat of silence, and Meng Yao just thinks fuck it.
“I’m in love with you,” he blurts out. He looks away again, scrunching his hands into fists and squeezing tightly. Why does he suddenly want to cry? “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I—”
“—A-Yao,” Lan Xichen whispers gently, impossibly soft, “What in the world are you sorry for?”
Meng Yao looks up, and sees that face on him again. It’s hard to breathe. “I’m not—well, it’s just me, Huan-ge. It’s me. I’m not enough. I shouldn’t be enough. I—”
“—stop,” Lan Xichen interrupts. “A-Yao, stop.” Meng Yao’s eyes widen. He never interrupts anyone. “I never needed for you to be enough. Not for anyone, and certainly not for me. There’s no need to be enough. You already are. You just are, A-Yao, and it pains me that you think you are not.”
Meng Yao is speechless. He nearly always has a witty response prepared, but he supposes when it comes to Huan-ge, he will always lose. “I…”
Lan Xichen is beaming at him. “Now that we have established that, I should tell you that I’m in love with you, too. I have been since the first time we met. The moment I saw you, I thought—”
He groans. “—stop, ge.” Meng Yao puts a hand over Lan Xichen’s mouth, blushing fiercely. “Any more and I may combust, so please spare me from that grisly fate. I do not think you want to see me turn into ashes early.”
Lan Xichen has a look in his eyes that says, heavens, no. Meng Yao sighs, letting his hands drop. He cannot win against this man.
“…Can I kiss you?” Lan Xichen asks softly, like Meng Yao is a small cat who is easily spooked and he doesn’t want to scare him away.
“Obviously,” murmurs Meng Yao. “But not here. Would you like to go somewhere… quieter?”
Lan Xichen looks at him like he’s never seen him before. He gulps. “I—yes. I would like that very much, actually.”
Meng Yao grins, and takes his hand. There’s a candle shop nearby, and the owner will give him a discount for the ridiculous amount he bought for his Xuansang ship.
Then, they’ll go to Xichen’s chambers at the Cloud recesses, and Meng Yao will light many sweetly-scented candles around the room. Lan Xichen will take off his headband and tie it around Meng Yao’s wrists, promising it to him, and they’ll make out until the sun rises.
If I’m enough as I am, Meng Yao thinks while they’re all over each other, then I guess I don’t have to be afraid of good things anymore.