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Chapter Text

Madam Yu’s seething hatred for Wei Wuxian’s mother was no secret. Everyone knew; thanks to the gossipmongers and the simple fact that Madam Yu never cared to hide it. It was a wound that never healed, a bitterness that never faded.

In that sense, it was a small mercy that Wei Wuxian had inherited most of Wei Changze’s face. A small mercy, but not enough to quell the ugly monster festering in Madam Yu’s heart.

The night Jiang Fengmian brought that dirty little stray to Lotus Pier, her fury had burned white-hot. At first, little A-Ying had assumed it was the mud dripping onto the polished floors that had displeased her. But even after being bathed and dressed in clean robes, Madam Yu’s gaze remained sharp and cold, piercing through the child like a blade. As if she had realized something truly unforgivable, something that not even her husband had noticed.

The filthy street urchin was a girl.

And somehow, that was the greatest offense of all.

Because the source of all Madam Yu’s grievances---the woman who had upended her life, her marriage, her dignity---had once been a girl just like this one. Who knew what other unsavory traits that wench might have passed down to her daughter?

But Madam Yu was not a woman who let problems fester. She did not wait for weeds to grow before ripping them from the ground. No, she burned the soil before they ever had the chance to take root.

So from the moment little A-Ying set foot in Lotus Pier, there was only one condition for her existence: she would live as a boy.

And she would do so for the rest of her life.

Madam Yu made sure she learned everything expected of a young man from a prestigious family; so long as she never outshined her son. She mastered archery and the sword but never embroidery or the art of cooking for loved ones. She studied literature and mathematics but was never taught how to be a wife or a mother. She was trained to be a boisterous young master who flirted with every girl in sight, but never a graceful lady fit to attract a nobleman's attention.

Under Madam Yu's sharp gaze, the bright, sunshine-filled girl that her Baba and Mama once doted on faded. In her place grew Wei Wuxian, the prided Head Disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect.

To be frank, Wei Wuxian liked her life. She had a roof over her head, warm meals every day, and siblings who loved her. She was even allowed to pursue her passion for talismans; a surprising indulgence from Madam Yu, who was otherwise insistent that she remain a step behind the sect heir. Perhaps the older woman had recognized her usefulness and simply let it be. If she had 'remained' a girl, she might have been married off to some deadbeat looking for a young bride, too busy raising children to even think about cultivation, let alone talismans.

And yet, sometimes, her gaze lingered when Jiang Yanli wore an elaborate new hairstyle, her delicate hairpin jingling like wind chimes with every movement. Sometimes, she dreamed of riding a donkey beside a man holding the reins, a child perched on his shoulders. In the dream, they laughed and joked on their way home; a small, quiet cottage where they would rest.

But it didn’t matter.

Wei Wuxian was content living as a boy. Perhaps not happier than she might have been as a girl, but life was good. And that was enough.

Besides, if she had 'remained' a girl, she might never have been allowed to accompany Jiang Cheng to the Cloud Recesses. She might never have met Lan Zhan, let alone pestered him every single day. That fuddy-duddy sect separated men and women with infuriating strictness, so the idea of meeting Lan Zhan as herself---without facing any life-crippling punishment---was nothing but a pipe dream.

No proper maiden would have behaved as she did around a respectable young man. Invading his space. Calling out to him at the top of her lungs. Doing everything in her power to make him look at her. To truly see her.

But that was impossible, wasn’t it?

If she had been raised as a girl, she wouldn’t have dared. Wouldn’t have even dreamed of it. Madam Yu would have killed her.

Yet… why had she still insisted on making Lan Zhan look at her now, when she wasn’t even fully herself?

What would he say if he ever found out? He had already called her shameless and ridiculous as a boy. What if he learned the truth? That she had been a girl all along, chasing after the noble Second Young Master Lan, placing herself in his line of sight like some desperate courtesan vying for a scrap of his attention?

Even during the archery competition in Nightless City, she had called out to him—not just because his forehead ribbon had been crooked, but because, for once, she had wanted him to look at her with something other than disapproval. Perhaps even to thank her. But in her eagerness, she had only earned his ire instead.

She was such a mess. But at least, as a boy, it could be excused.

If Lan Zhan ever found out…

He would definitely be disgusted.

So she prayed. Hoped. Wished upon everything that he would never know.

But life went on. And on.

And then it got worse.

Her home was gone. Her golden core was gone.

And once again, she had to do the impossible to survive. To carve and twist fate, to claw her way back, because she owed a debt. Madam Yu’s voice echoed in her mind, a bitter reminder of the roots still binding her to this world.

So, she returned. This time, she wore a different mask, that of a bastardized demonic cultivator. This time, it wasn’t just about survival. It was about protecting what little she had left.

But even after turning the tide of war in their favor, even after saving them when Wen Ruohan’s forces had them cornered; they still would not leave her alone.

She didn’t care what they thought of her. But humans, lost in fear and uncertainty, were capable of the most asinine, reckless things in the name of self-preservation. They became so stupid it would be hilarious, if only her dream of a peaceful life wasn’t at stake.

And so, it happened.

The accusation was absurd.

Anyone with a fully functioning brain would have seen how unreasonable it was to accuse her---Wei Wuxian, the one who had contributed the most during the Sunshot Campaign, someone barely holding herself together, whose only wish was to be left the fuck alone---of ambition. Of desiring to be the next overlord.

“He is an abomination,” a cultivator sneered, his voice dripping with self-righteousness. “A heretic! A practitioner of foul arts! He might even become the second Wen Ruohan if we don’t act before it’s too late!”

Wei Wuxian, battered but unbowed, let out a breathless laugh.

“Oh? And what exactly have I done this time to warrant such an accusation?” She tilted her head, grinning, voice honey-smooth yet razor-sharp. “Summoned an army of ghosts? Defied the heavens? Stolen candy from a child? Do enlighten me.”

“You twist the natural order! You corrupt the world with your sorcery! You---”

“I save your lives,” she interrupted, voice dropping to a cold, cutting edge. “Time and time again, I save your ungrateful hides, and this is how you repay me?”

The cultivator’s face twisted in fury, but before he could speak---

“Enough,” Jiang Cheng snapped, stepping forward. His hand was tight around Sandu’s hilt, his very presence crackling with restrained fury. “Say another word and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Uneasy, uncertain.

Jiang Cheng stood firm, his rage a shield against their accusations. Wei Wuxian felt a strange warmth at her side.

But the moment did not last.

Someone moved. Somebody stupidly daring enough to attack Wei Wuxian in front of everyone important in the cultivation world.

Or perhaps, that was exactly why he dared.

He was shouting something about proving her sins. Some sanctimonious bullshit Wei Wuxian couldn’t even bother to register. How he expected to prove anything by trying to maul her with a sword in broad daylight was beyond her.

She was so damn tired.

But instinct, drilled into her by years of Madam Yu’s brutal training and sharpened further by war, did not betray her. The cut of the cold steel did not bite into her flesh, but merely slashing into fabric. But that, to Wei Wuxian, was a different kind of downfall.

A sharp rip. Her robes fell apart, slashed open for all to see.

Silence crashed over the crowd.

Wei Wuxian stood frozen. Her breath came shallow, quick. Her hands flew to what remained of her clothing, gripping the tattered edges in a futile attempt to cover herself.

But it was too late.

Time stretched unbearably as realization sank into the faces around her. The arrogant cultivator who had accused her moments before now gawked in shock, his mouth moving uselessly, no words forming. Eyes traced the curves barely concealed beneath her ruined robes. The bindings around her chest unraveling just enough to expose the truth.

Wei Wuxian trembled. Her breath shuddered in anxiety.

And then, before she could fully process it, a figure stepped between her and the world, blocking her from view.

She did not dare to look up---too anxious to what would come next---but then she smelled a refreshing scent enveloping her very being before a vague feeling of something silky-smooth caressing her shoulders.

Warm. Calming. Familiar.

Sandalwood.

Her gaze traveled higher and met a pair of golden eyes, unreadable and piercing. His body completely covers her in the front while both his arms were outstretched, hovering on both of Wei Wuxian's sides like a shield.

She finally realized that silky-smooth something around her shoulders was his outer robe which finally settled over her skin. A quiet, deliberate motion. A silent statement.

Wei Wuxian’s fingers clenched around the fabric uncertainly.

Behind them, the stunned murmurs turned into frantic whispers. Accusations mixing with disbelief. Eventually, Jiang Cheng’s voice snapped through the noise like a whip.

“Anyone who so much as breathes another word about this---”

Sandu hissed from its sheath.

“Dies.”

And just like that, the world held its breath.

Chapter Text

Another shadow fell over them.

Wei Wuxian, still disoriented from the overwhelming weight of everything that had just happened, hesitantly peeked out from beneath the layers of white Lan Wangji had wrapped around her.

It was Jiang Wanyin.

And he looked absolutely murderous.

No, he wasn’t glaring at her. His venomous glare was directed entirely at Lan Wangji. At Lan Wangji’s hand still gripping the fabric over her shoulder, at the pristine white robes cocooning her small frame. At the way Hanguang-jun was shielding her, standing firm and unwavering like an unbreakable wall between her and the world.

Jiang Wanyin stepped forward, his violet robes a stark contrast against the crisp white of the Lans, and roughly pushed past Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian barely had time to register the sudden shift before Jiang Wanyin crouched beside her, his hands reaching out without hesitation.

"Wei Wuxian, come on. We’re going home."

Before she could react, before she could even breathe, his arms were already around her.

The grip was firm, familiar, possessive; the way only a sibling could hold another, as if by sheer force alone he could reclaim her, as if gathering her up in his arms could undo whatever had just been revealed.

Lan Wangji, caught off guard, was shoved aside.

Jiang Wanyin barely spared him a glance, only offering another vicious glare before lifting off on his sword, Wei Wuxian held tightly in his grasp.

They shot into the sky like an arrow loosed from a bow, wind whipping against their bodies as the world blurred beneath them.

It was dramatic.

Embarrassingly dramatic.

Like one of those ridiculous hero-saving-the-princess stories that men always droned on about. The kind of over-the-top, stupidly manly romance shit that Wei Wuxian had never truly understood but had always played along with just for the fun of it.

"Jiang Cheng! What the fuck?!"

The initial shock wore off quickly, leaving only indignation. She thrashed in his arms, wriggling like a fish caught in a net, trying to kick and shove her way free from his iron grip.

"Put me down, you bastard! What do you think you’re doing---"

A sharp glare cut her off mid-protest.

"Shut the fuck up!" Jiang Wanyin’s voice cracked with barely contained frustration. "I should be the one freaking out right now! What the fuck, Wei Wuxian?! Last time I checked, I only had one sister!"

Wei Wuxian blinked.

Then, as if her brain had momentarily short-circuited, she laughed.

Because of course that was the first thing her brother would say.

Not “Are you okay?” Not “What the hell happened?” Not even a single ounce of gentleness; just pure, undiluted Jiang Wanyin's brand of exasperation.

"That’s your biggest concern?!" she wheezed, clutching at his shoulders. "That you suddenly gained a second sister?"

"Of course that’s my concern!" Jiang Wanyin barked. "What the fuck, Wei Wuxian?! Since when---since when---were you---"

"A woman?" Wei Wuxian supplied helpfully.

Jiang Wanyin snarled. "Yes!"

Wei Wuxian grinned, unbothered. "Since birth, probably."

"That’s not fucking funny."

"It kind of is."

Jiang Wanyin looked like he wanted to drop her right out of the sky.

Wei Wuxian, to her credit, only snickered harder.

But even beneath the laughter, there was something raw lingering in the air between them---something sharp and frayed, something too big to be addressed with simple jokes.

Jiang Wanyin’s grip was tight.

Too tight.

And that was the real reason she had stopped struggling.

Because as much as he sounded like his usual irritated, loudmouthed self---his fingers, digging into the fabric at her back, weren’t.

She could feel the tremor in them.

The realization hit her like a stone to the chest, and her amusement dimmed.

Jiang Wanyin wasn’t just confused.

He was scared.

And probably hurting as well.

Probably already thinking of how Wei Wuxian did not trust him enough to share the truth.

Probably already imagining what would happen to their family after this, after everyone found out that the great Yiling Patriarch was actually just a feeble maiden.

His anger, his exasperation, his foul-mouthed shouting; it was all her brother’s way of coping with the fact that his world had just been flipped upside down.

Wei Wuxian swallowed, suddenly unsure of what to say.

“…Jiang Cheng,” she said softly, almost hesitant.

He didn’t look at her.

His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked painful, his eyes locked stubbornly on the horizon. As if he knows through the softness in Wei Wuxian's voice, her uncharacteristic silence and hesitance, that she saw right through his heart.

"Shut up or I'll let you fall," he finally said.

And their journey home was filled with silence, anxious to the future that would be waiting for them.

The air inside Jiang Yanli’s room carried the faint scent of lotus soup, sweet and comforting, mingling with the subtle fragrance of osmanthus that always seemed to cling to her presence.

Wei Wuxian sat on a cushion, legs crossed, fingers idly tracing the embroidery on the hem of her borrowed robes. She had been apprehensive about this; returning home, facing people who had once seen her as their senior, their shixiong, their leader. Now, the truth had unraveled her carefully built life, and she had half-expected distance, awkwardness, a shift in the way they looked at her.

It did not help that the one person who had known how the truth had been revealed to practically everyone in the cultivation world had left Lotus Pier as soon as Wei Wuxian was dropped unceremoniously in front of a worried Jiang Yanli. Something about an emergency conference. She knew exactly what that emergency would be about, but she did not want to think about it right now.

But as she sat here, watching Jiang Yanli carefully untangle the knots in her XianXian's hair, as they had playfully bantered with a whining Wei Wuxian telling her cruel Shijie that XianXian was just a baby, she realized… nothing had changed.

Her shijie still smiled at her the same way she always had: gentle, unwavering, filled with an affection so deep it felt like the very foundation of Lotus Pier.

"Your hair has grown longer," Jiang Yanli murmured as she ran the comb through the strands, her touch as delicate as ever.

Wei Wuxian huffed, leaning her chin on her knee. "Not like I ever got to care for it properly. It was always tied up in the simplest way possible. Fast, efficient, no fuss."

Jiang Yanli chuckled, her fingers weaving through the strands with practiced ease. "Ah, but even back then, you always seemed interested in hair."

Wei Wuxian blinked, tilting her head slightly. "What?"

A soft hum left Jiang Yanli's lips as she separated sections of hair, beginning to braid them with a methodical slowness, as if savoring the moment.

"You used to always notice when I changed my hairstyle," she said, smiling at the memory. "Even when A-Cheng wouldn’t notice for days, you would always ask, ‘Shijie, did you do something new with your hair today?’"

Wei Wuxian’s face heated slightly. She had never thought much of it, but hearing it aloud made something ache in her chest.

"And then," Jiang Yanli continued, "you would sit with me while I braided my hair, watching closely, as if trying to memorize how it was done. Every time, I would offer to braid yours, and you would let me. Although it was just a simple braid---something even the Jiang men could wear and nothing elaborated like how the girls you had 'flirted' with would wear their hair---you had looked delighted."

Wei Wuxian swallowed.

Had she known?

Had Jiang Yanli always known?

"Why did you never say anything?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Jiang Yanli’s hands stilled for a brief moment before she resumed braiding. "Because you never said anything either."

Wei Wuxian exhaled.

Of course.

Jiang Yanli had always seen her. Not just the version she showed the world, not just the reckless, untamed disciple that ran across rooftops and caused mischief wherever she went. But her.

She had always seen the quiet moments, the hesitations, the longing stares at things Wei Wuxian had convinced herself she could never have. She had been one of the rarer people who would observe her, getting every detail about her, not because they wanted a way to plan her downfall. But because she had wanted to know a better way to care for her.

And she had never questioned anything. Never pushed. She had simply been there, offering comfort in ways that didn't need words.

Wei Wuxian lowered her head, closing her eyes. "Shijie," she murmured. "I---"

"You are my A-Xian," Jiang Yanli interrupted gently. "No matter what."

Wei Wuxian felt her throat tighten.

She had expected pity. Expected change.

Instead, she had found warmth.

Jiang Yanli finished tying the end of the braid, letting her fingers linger briefly on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder before reaching for the silver hairpin on the table. One of her many hairpins that Wei Wuxian had secretly admired, something unassuming but still undeniably feminine. Without hesitation, she fastened it in place.

"There," she said, patting her head lightly. "Beautiful."

Wei Wuxian lifted a hand, fingertips brushing against the smooth braid. It felt foreign. It felt right.

A shaky smile pulled at her lips.

For the first time in a long while, she felt content.

She should have known. The moment Jiang Wanyin came home with a dark expression, the moment Jiang Yanli had looked at her teary-eyed before her brother dragged her into his office; she should have known.

She had been lulled by the peace and serenity of home, the warmth in her sister's arms never changed, and the way her little martial siblings had treated her remained the same. For the first time after so long, Wei Wuxian had felt content.

Because of that, she was not prepared for the news Jiang Wanyin had brought.

The conversation started tense, but it had quickly escalated into a full-blown shouting match.

Jiang Wanyin’s voice was sharp, a whip of barely controlled fury. "You think I wanted this?! You think I didn’t fight them?"

He was pacing, hands clenched into fists at his sides, his entire body taut with frustration. "You have no idea how much I argued, how much I fucking tried to stop this!" His violet robes flared with his movements, his eyes dark with something heavy, something desperate.

"But what did you expect me to do, huh?!" he demanded. "Fight all of them? Take on the entire cultivation world myself? Our sect is still rebuilding, Wei Wuxian! You know what state we’re in! You think I had the power to say no when they decided this was the only way to make them feel safe?"

Wei Wuxian had stood there, listening, letting his anger crash over her like waves against a stone.

Then she laughed.

A sharp, bitter sound that cut through the air like a blade.

Jiang Wanyin stopped mid-rant, blinking at her in shock.

Wei Wuxian was smiling. Not the usual mischievous grin, not the teasing smirk she had always worn in the past. It was something else. Something devastating.

"That’s how it is, huh?" she murmured, voice quiet, almost distant. "My whole life---every damn second of it---I was always meant to be someone’s pawn, wasn’t I?"

Jiang Wanyin stiffened.

"Always doing what others want," she continued, "Never what I need. What do I need, Jiang Cheng? Have you ever thought about that?"

His jaws tightened.

"I need fucking peace."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Jiang Wanyin’s hackles rose instantly, the tension snapping back into place. "And what the hell do you expect me to do about it?!" he barked. "What was I supposed to do, Wei Wuxian?! Our sect’s foundation was shaken by war! I didn’t have a choice! I didn’t have the power---"

He stopped.

Stunned.

Because Wei Wuxian had turned away, her shoulders trembling. She was scrubbing at her eyes. Scrubbing. As if furiously trying to erase the evidence of something she refused to acknowledge. Something she had never allowed anyone to see. Something Madam Yu had forbid her to do. Thus, even her brother never saw her like this.

But she was so tired of pretending, of restraining her truth.

So, so tired.

Realizing what exactly he was witnessing, Jiang Wanyin felt something twist in his gut.

Then---softly, like the weight of years finally breaking through---

"I was doing my fucking best, Jiang Cheng."

Her voice cracked.

"Every time."

Jiang Wanyin could only stare as she exhaled shakily, shoulders still shaking, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides.

"I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to lose my family. So I had to."

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. "Maybe… maybe I thought if I were a man, Madam Yu would finally approve of me."

A sharp inhale.

"Maybe if I lived as a man, if I did my best, if I was the perfect Jiang disciple, she’d finally accept me."

The weight of those words crashed over him, suffocating. Jiang Wanyin felt like he had been struck. The one who had made her become like this....

But Wei Wuxian was not done.

She let out a breathless, humorless laugh. "You and I… we’re not so different, you know." She turned to him, and Jiang Wanyin wished she had not---because the look in her eyes hurt. "Always trying to gain someone’s approval, chasing after something we could never reach."

She took a shaky breath, voice thick with something raw. "But you always had their love, Jiang Cheng."

Jiang Wanyin flinched.

"You always had your parents’ love, even if you never noticed. But me?"

A bitter, almost broken smile.

"I was just a stranger."

A cold wind blew past them, cutting between the space they had never been able to cross.

"An outsider. A charity case Uncle Jiang decided to take in."

Jiang Wanyin’s fingers twitched.

"I’ve never belonged." She laughed again, breathless. "Not even when I lived as another fucking person."

The weight in Jiang Wanyin’s chest was unbearable.

He wanted to argue.

He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that it wasn’t like that, that she was family, that she did belong---but the words caught in his throat.

Because had he ever made her feel like she did?

"Do you know how scared I was?"

Wei Wuxian’s voice dropped to something almost fragile.

"Every single day. I had to be careful. Every time I spoke. Every time I moved. I had to make sure I sounded and acted how a boy should sound."

Her hands curled into fists.

"I had to bind my chest every morning---"

She inhaled sharply, almost a gasp. "Do you know how suffocating that was?"

Jiang Wanyin felt sick.

She was always so much brighter than him, so much more brilliant, happier.

He had never thought---

Never considered---

"But I had to live with it," she whispered. "Because I didn’t know how else to live."

She shook her head, fingers trembling at her sides. "Even after Madam Yu passed, I had to keep going. I had to continue---because what would have happened if someone found out I was a woman?"

The answer was obvious.

And they were already in the face of such consequence.

Jiang Wanyin swallowed hard.

He had always thought he knew her.

Wei Wuxian, the untouchable, the invincible, the ever-smiling, ever-laughing figure that could never be broken.

But standing before him now, trembling and barely holding herself together, she looked---

Small.

Not weak. But small, like a person who had been carrying the weight of the world for too long.

Jiang Wanyin kept his silence in the face of such revelation. Everything was too much.

Wei Wuxian took a deep breath, steadying herself, but it didn’t stop the bile from rising in her throat.

“This,” she said bitterly, “This is exactly what I was afraid of.”

Wei Wuxian’s lips curled in a humorless smile. Her voice was quieter now, the rawness of her earlier outburst settling into something colder. Something resigned.

“The moment anyone found out I was a woman,” she continued, “everything I’ve ever done---every single thing---stopped mattering.” She let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Not because they were afraid of me turning into the next Wen Ruohan. No, no, that was just an excuse. That was just their justification to punish me for daring to exist outside their control.”

Jiang Wanyin’s hands clenched into fists.

Wei Wuxian looked at him then, eyes sharp, but underneath, there was exhaustion. A bone-deep, soul-weary exhaustion.

“Now, they have another excuse to apprehend me; a new, crueler way to punish me,” she said. “Because I'm a woman, and a powerful one.”

Jiang Wanyin flinched.

She was not wrong.

A woman like Wei Wuxian---untamed, unbound, unwilling to conform---was dangerous to men who thrived on power.

“How do you subdue a woman like that?” she whispered. “How do you make sure she never threatens the balance of the world they’ve built?”

Her hands trembled, but she still held her head high.

“You marry her off,” she spat. “You force her under a man’s domain. You reduce her to nothing but a tool, an object to be controlled.”

Her stomach twisted violently, nausea creeping up her throat.

“And that’s what this is, isn’t it? They want to put me in my place.” Her voice was quiet, but it carried. “Because a woman on her own, especially one like me, is too dangerous. But a married woman? A wife? That’s manageable. That’s something they can control.”

Jiang Wanyin said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Because she was right.

Wei Wuxian exhaled, the fight draining out of her, leaving only bitterness in its place.

“Who knows,” she murmured, eyes distant. “What kind of man will they give me? Surely, the cultivation world that hates me so much will choose the worst possible match. Maybe some pathetic, devious deadbeat. Maybe someone cruel, someone who’d enjoy breaking me apart.”

Her voice was shaking, but she still managed to laugh. "They hate me, Jiang Cheng. So why wouldn’t they make sure my life is a living hell?"

Her throat tightened.

“And then what?” she whispered. “What’s left for me after that?”

She closed her eyes.

The silence stretched between them, suffocating.

Then---

“I’ll do something about it.”

Her eyes snapped open.

Jiang Wanyin was standing rigid, his expression set in stone.

“I might not be able to stop the marriage,” he admitted, voice low, tight, furious in a way that felt like he was fighting against his own helplessness. “But I can do something. I can make sure it’s not miserable. I can make sure you get a better deal out of this.”

Wei Wuxian stared at him.

Her gaze was soft as she looked at her brother, thankful; but also empty, hopeless.

She smiled, and it was full of something achingly self-deprecating.

“You can try, Jiang Cheng,” she said.

But in her heart, she knew.

It wouldn’t change anything.

Her life had been doomed from the start.

Chapter Text

Jiang Wanyin doesn’t really know what he’s doing.

Sure, he had been confident earlier. Confident in the face of his competent bro---sister, who had never once shown any sign of vulnerability in all these years, which had only fed his own inferiority complex. But watching him---her---someone who had always been the one to attempt the impossible, now unable to even hope for a better possibility… it felt like some dusty corner where his heart lies had crumbled down.

This time, he had to be the one to attempt the impossible. He had to believe, in his bro---sister's stead, that he could work out something in his---her favor.

Fuck. He still is not used to thinking of that loon as a woman, a being he was taught to see as delicate and fragile. Not that he ever completely believed it, especially growing up with the Violet Spider as a mother.

But still. Wei Wuxian? A woman? The flirty “guy”? The one who had beaten every single boy their age in every aspect of the gentry? What kind of man could possibly be good enough to be her husband? He can’t even stop the goosebumps that rise at the thought of pairing Wei Wuxian’s name with the word "husband" in the same sentence. As if a storm like her could ever be tamed by any man.

Yes, tamed. Even Madam Yu, the proud Yu lady who could rival any man in combat, had to submit under her husband’s reign. Because she is a woman, his lady, his wife. Even when she mocked him or glared at him, she still had to defer in the end, let him make the final decision. Otherwise, she would never have allowed Wei Wuxian to live and thrive under her roof.

Jiang Wanyin slumps against the wall, rubbing his face in frustration. Thankfully, no one is around to see the Sect Leader wallowing in despair, crouching down a corner like a scorned child.

Is that what Wei Wuxian fears? To end up like Mother? So hateful toward her own husband she can’t even show honest affection to her own children, living always in the shadow of another woman her husband had loved before being forced to marry her.

Is that why Mother made Wei Wuxian live as a man? So she wouldn’t be a walking reminder of that woman? Did she really groom her to live as another person her entire life for such a selfish reason?

Is that the kind of hell Wei Wuxian imagines will befall her if the cultivation world chooses a husband for her? To live as the next Madam Yu?

Jiang Wanyin can imagine it. Despite her distaste toward Cangse Sanren, Mother had been the one who shaped everything Wei Wuxian was taught. After all these years, Wei Wuxian must have picked up more than a few things from the older woman---her mannerisms, her pride, her vision. Maybe Wei Wuxian knows how alike she is to Mother in this regard.

Maybe that’s why she fears an arranged marriage. Fears living under a man’s control.

Fears becoming miserable like Mother.

After all, Wei Wuxian had always been free-spirited, just like her mother. Paired with the fact that she was practically raised by the Violet Spider, Jiang Wanyin couldn’t even begin to imagine his sister being shackled down by anyone.

But they don't really have the option to back out of the arranged marriage. As much as it hurt his pride, Wei Wuxian’s very existence is the only thing preventing anyone from daring to lay a finger on the still-rebuilding YunmengJiang. At the same time, her existence also makes her seem like a threat to those hungry for power. It is a double-edged sword.

They will have to go through with this charade. Maybe he can find a man he could persuade to work with him. Perhaps fake the marriage, or convince the other party to marry Wei Wuxian only temporarily, until the “excitement” dies down.

It would be better if it is someone she already knows. Someone she doesn't mind all that much. Someone who is at least her equal in power. Someone the cultivation world will trust to “tame” her. Someone Jiang Wanyin can trust to at least treat his sister fairly.

Someone like---

Lan Xichen rubs at his itchy ear as he stares out the window into the courtyard below. He sighs, feeling the last remnants of his focus flutter away like startled birds. The stack of paperwork on his desk lies forgotten, abandoned for far longer than he’d like to admit.

Ever since the “revelation of the century” a few days ago, the cultivation world has been in complete disarray. If before this everyone was scrambling to stop Wei Wuxian from “falling into full demonic corruption,” now they’ve shifted seamlessly into a different frenzy entirely---deciding who should marry the newly revealed maiden as if she were some rare spirit flower that could grant immortality to whoever plucked her first.

He could practically see the steam coming out of Sect Leader Jiang’s reddened face as the man argued his case during that impromptu conference. Had Wangji been present as well, the room might have simply exploded from the sheer tension.

The leering expressions on the elders’ faces as they discussed the fate of the “demonic cultivator” only made matters worse. Sect Leader Jiang’s temper had frayed with every passing moment until he finally stormed out, moments away from letting Zidian leave its mark across Jin Guangshan’s face. He could imagine that only the reminder of his still rebuilding home had prevented him from creating a much bigger ruckus.

Lan Xichen couldn’t have blamed him if he had. Not after hearing the sort of---excuse his language---filth Jin Guangshan dared to say aloud.

Had Wangji been there---well, Lan Xichen couldn’t say he would have had much reason to restrain himself. Lan Xichen was not the type to hide things from his younger brother, but as he’d told himself earlier, if Wangji had attended that conference, things would not have ended without at least Bichen on someone's neck. So, he kept quiet about the gathering that had essentially turned into a meeting to decide his friend’s fate. For the greater good.

…Hmm. “Friend” doesn’t feel quite right anymore.

Especially not after seeing how tenderly Wangji had looked at Wei Wuxian while shielding her from the others’ stares. Had Wei Wuxian still been believed a man, Lan Xichen might have noticed something odd in Wangji’s behavior but would have taken more time to guess the truth.

But now that the revelation of her true gender had sunk in, he could no longer deny what that gaze had meant. It's so much more glaringly obvious what the gaze would mean when they are a pair of woman and man.

They say Lans only love once. Personally, Lan Xichen doesn’t relate; nor does his uncle. The only proof of that notion comes from Lan An and his cultivation partner, as well as his own parents, whose story neither began nor ended well.

So he fears for his little brother; the boy he helped raise, the boy he shielded and protected, the one he truly loves alongside his uncle. Whichever path his brother takes, there will only be sorrow, whether he chooses to be with the one he loves or not.

The real question is: which path hurts less? Which choice will lead to the smallest regret?

What should he do?

Lan Xichen sinks his face into the crook of his arm. Why is life so hard? He doesn’t want to choose anymore. He wishes the world would simply choose for him and---

Three precise knocks startle him upright. He clears his throat.

“Come in.”

The door opens, and a junior disciple steps inside and salutes him.

“Forgive the interruption, Clan Leader. Sect Leader Jiang has just arrived. He requests an official meeting with you.”

Lan Xichen frowns in confusion. Sect Leader Jiang?

“Please welcome him properly. I will join him shortly.”

The junior disciple bows and excuses himself.

Lan Xichen takes a moment to gather his thoughts as he prepares himself to properly welcome a fellow sect leader.

Why is Sect Leader Jiang here?

Only two possibilities cross his mind: a request for help in rebuilding his sect, or something to do with you-know-who.

He would understand the former, but what does Gusu Lan have to do with the latter? Without Wangji present at the meeting a few days ago, Gusu Lan had neither supported Wei Wuxian’s marriage prospects nor sided with Sect Leader Jiang’s arguments.

These thoughts occupy him so thoroughly that he hardly notices he has already arrived. Lan Xichen smooths his expression into a polite smile as he steps forward.

Sect Leader Jiang’s robes are slightly rumpled from shoulder to back. A few strands of hair have slipped from his topknot, as though he had rushed all the way to Gusu. His expression is tense, but his bow is as perfectly courteous as ever.

“Sect Leader Lan, please excuse my abrupt visit. I have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”

Lan Xichen returns the bow and offers a warm smile.

“You are always welcome in the Cloud Recesses, Sect Leader Jiang,” he says easily, gesturing to the tea and snacks already arranged on the table. “Perhaps some tea will ease your fatigue? I imagine the journey from Yunmeng to Gusu was not a comfortable one.”

Sect Leader Jiang opens his mouth---likely to refuse---but Lan Xichen is already pouring tea for them both. Even if Sect Leader Jiang does not need it, Lan Xichen certainly does. He pretends not to notice the aborted protest.

At least he knows not to speak while drinking tea, Lan Xichen muses. For a man not known for his patience, it is impressive that he maintains the rule so diligently.

Lan Xichen takes another sip, ensuring there is never a long enough pause for Sect Leader Jiang to begin the discussion. He needs more time to gather himself. Behind the rim of his cup, he observes the other man. Though he has accepted the tea, mimicking his host, his fingers keep tapping restlessly against the porcelain. He shifts his position again and again.

It is honestly a little amusing, but eventually Lan Xichen decides he has stalled long enough. He sets his cup down without refilling it for the nth time.

“Now then, Sect Leader Jiang,” he begins with a gentle smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Sect Leader Jiang hesitates. Lan Xichen keeps his expression open and patient, though curiosity sparks in his eyes.

“I…” Sect Leader Jiang falters. “Sect Leader Lan, this may sound sudden, and perhaps even preposterous, but---”

He drops into a full kowtow.

Lan Xichen’s smile freezes, twitching as his eyes widen in shock.

“As the leader of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect,” the other man says, voice low and solemn, “I implore you to take our head disciple's, Wei Wuxian’s, hand in marriage.”