Work Text:
The first time Jiang Cheng met Lan Xichen, he was 15, studying in Gusu for the first time.
He’d dropped into a low bow at first sight of those cloud-embroidered forehead ribbons, tugging Wei Wuxian into a similar one beside him.
“Jiang Wanyin,” He breathed as he straightened, and found himself staring into a warm, honeyed gaze. His chest leapt into his throat.
Lan Xichen was beautiful .
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
Lan Xichen,
Grandmaster Lan told me you were feeling better, that your seclusion finally helped you find some form of inner calm all this while. I’m glad. It pains me to know that you’ve suffered for so long, weighed down by decisions others made to deceive you. And I hope my visits and regular correspondence have not burdened you in your recovery since the events in Yunping.
I’m not one for flowery language, Xichen, so I’ll cut to the chase.
I have long since decided that I would appoint a worthy successor, chosen through their mettle rather than the blood that flows through their veins. Heirs have never been a consideration of mine, not since I was a mere sprout, even before my mother perished in the burning of Lotus Pier. I gave my heart decades ago to a man I thought the world of. He was every bit the comforting, kind and reliable partner I sought. And he still is.
I thought he was unreachable, for the brash and venomous person I had become, for how he was the embodiment of a strong, honourable leader in the Jianghu. And he still is.
Despite how you see yourself now, Xichen, you’ve always been the same person to me – an outstanding leader, a warm companion and the most kindred of souls. You’re also a self-sacrificing fool who blames himself for the sins of the world. And I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.
I find myself waiting longingly for the next time I visit you again. You make me happy, and I wish I could do the same for you.
If I have read our interactions wrong, please burn this letter and ink my rejection in its ashes. I can only bear to have you see this part of me.
Yours,
Jiang Wanyin
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
Jiang Cheng stared at the white, cloud-patterned letter on his table. The Lan Sect Leader’s personal seal glared back at him in its signature shade of pale blue, seeming to taunt him. He sucked in a deep breath. With trembling fingers, Jiang Cheng reached for the letter and broke the seal, licking his parched lips apprehensively.
Wanyin,
The elegant curves of his name in Lan Xichen’s beautiful calligraphy stared back at him.
Jiang Cheng’s heart squeezed in his chest. It had been so easy to send that letter. A split-second decision after months of contemplation. He had had enough of staring at the letter he’d written so many months ago, too afraid of what was to come to do anything. After returning exhausted from a night hunt, he’d taken one more look at the letter and thrown months of caution out the window. Fuck it, he had rationalised to himself, watching the shrinking image of his messenger departing for the clouds of Gusu. He’d wasted too much time hung up over the possibilities, hovering between fearing rejection and yet clinging onto a sliver of hope . It was now or never. But having the letter unfurled before him, karma had truly come to bite Jiang Cheng in the ass.
Truly, I am grateful for your presence throughout my seclusion — for your honesty and the kindness you have shown me, even when I found myself undeserving of it. You have helped me a great deal and I consider you a true friend in such dark times for me. This hasn’t changed, and it won’t. And I am honoured that you think so highly of me, to consider me an apt companion for a strong Sect Leader like yourself.
However,
Jiang Cheng swallowed.
I cannot accept or reciprocate your feelings now, as welcome as they are. As I have shared before, Lans only love once, and it seems that I am fated to follow the footsteps of my father, and my ancestors before me. I have made grave mistakes, and I am to be punished aptly for them.
Jiang Cheng frowned, the sheet of paper crumpling in his tightening grip. It was the same words Lan Xichen had echoed at him during their time together in the Hanshi, whenever Jin Guangyao was mentioned. A wartime fling, believed to be a lifetime worth of destined love to the Lan Sect Leader. And no matter how much Jiang Cheng scoffed at him, Lan Xichen could only give him a sad smile in return.
You deserve better, Wanyin. You can do much better than someone like…me.
I hope to see you soon, Wanyin.
Thank you, as always.
Xichen.
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, at the sheer ridicule he felt reading those words. Jiang Cheng had expected outright rejection, in the same polite manner that Lan Xichen would turn down marriage offers during Discussion Conferences. Hell, he’d even dared hope for a ‘yes’, that his feelings could be returned by some miracle. But Lan Xichen was much crueler than he’d expected. And Jiang Cheng was certain the man himself didn’t even know the rush of conflicting emotions he’d caused. Lan Xichen had given him a Maybe . And some awful version of a Not Right Now . After months of wondering and wondering and finally seeking out a black-and-white answer, only to receive a definitive grey — Jiang Cheng was livid .
Who exactly was Lan Xichen to decide whether he was good enough for Jiang Cheng? Why the fuck was he the one deciding that, when Jiang Cheng had made it clear exactly who he wanted?
Tucking the letter carefully into his robes with barely-concealed rage, Jiang Cheng then unleashed his anger onto his cheap tea set. One thankfully bought precisely for its current use — to be flung at the walls of his office with all the strength he could muster. Zidian sparked on his finger as he went through each piece in the set, seemingly sympathetic to her master’s emotions.
When the crash of shattered porcelain finally came to a halt, Jiang Cheng sagged back into his seat, an uncomfortable prickling behind his eyes. Anger always came easily to him, like a weapon wielded to hide his deepest fears and vulnerability. But the anger fled as quickly as it arrived, leaving Jiang Cheng exhausted, holding onto the broken pieces of his heart, not unlike the cheap china dusting his office floor.
Lan Xichen’s response meant there was a possibility . It meant that it could have been , but the Lan Sect Leader wasn’t ready. And he likely would never be ready.
If Jiang Cheng could sink any further into his seat, he would. He wanted the world to open up underneath him and swallow him up. To erase his existence, or at least him ever telling Lan Xichen about his cursed feelings. It would be much better to pine and wonder, than to lay there winded like a wounded beast. He had loved Lan Xichen in silence for decades — he could tolerate it a little longer. Jiang Cheng would much rather suffer alone in silence, than have Lan Xichen look at him with a pitying gaze.
The week after, Jiang Cheng felt awful. It was strange — not receiving an outright rejection, a small part of him was clinging onto it with a death grip. Hopeful . But every such thought was automatically quashed by reality. And alternating between a chaotic mixture of sadness, disappointment, hope and relief, Jiang Cheng just felt very sorry for himself. He didn’t cry , but with all the frustration he felt at himself, it was a damn near thing.
To think that the first thing he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable, and to hope for, to let himself be happy for once, had been wrenched from his hands and thrown into the air haphazardly like some toy.
It didn’t help that Lan Xichen’s correspondence with him continued, as though nothing had happened. As though Jiang Cheng had never chosen to bare his soul to the other, and his vulnerability had been disregarded amidst Lan Xichen’s own confusion towards his sworn brother.
Jiang Cheng couldn’t hate Lan Xichen. He could never blame the Lan Sect Leader, not after everything he’d been through. And definitely not for all Jiang Cheng felt for him. It had been his own mistake to choose to be vulnerable, especially at the wrong time. There was no one else to blame for his misery but himself.
And so, Jiang Cheng could only do what he did best. He threw himself into his work, offering aid to as many villages as he knew his sect could handle and choosing to oversee efforts personally. His disciples were more than capable enough to handle it for him, but Jiang Cheng desperately needed…a distraction. This was the only way he knew how, the same he did when Wei Wuxian had abandoned him and his orphaned nephew in this world filled with bloodshed and loss.
And time flew by as Jiang Cheng clawed his way through his work, living day after day. The sheer volume of work helped keep Lan Xichen off his mind. He was too busy to return the Lan Sect Leader’s letters as frequently, his replies increasingly focused on official matters and becoming less personal than before. He stopped reaching out for the other. He just…couldn’t. Couldn’t do it without feeling like he was imposing upon Lan Xichen’s patience, after having made his feelings and his intentions known.
Suddenly, months flew by, and it was time for the next Discussion Conference — hosted by the Gusu Lan Sect. When the missive came to his desk, Jiang Cheng fought down the rising sense of dread. Lan Xichen’s elegant calligraphy stared back at him once more, inviting him to tea with him before the conference. Why , Jiang Cheng wanted to scream. Why are you still so kind to me? Why can’t you cast me away, shun me like the rest of the world has? Hate was easier to deal with than this twisted kindness.
Sect Leader Lan,
His reply wrote, stilted and cold. Jiang Cheng couldn’t dig out the same warmth he felt without thinking about that letter.
I will see you at your Hanshi the day before the start of the conference, if you will have me.
Yours,
Jiang Wanyin.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
Jiang Cheng sucked in a deep breath as he raised his fist and rapped gently on the door to the Hanshi. They had agreed to meet, and he was going to honour that, even if he had to personally fly ahead of the Yunmeng delegation to fulfil this agreement. And Lan Xichen had promised that this wouldn’t change things between them. But that didn’t mean he wanted to face it.
(And he refused to admit it, but he still held on to that sliver of hope that in the months that passed, perhaps Lan Xichen had changed his mind. That someone like Wei Wuxian had managed to dispel that damned belief about only loving once. Hope truly was a dangerous thing.)
There was a rustle from inside the Hanshi, before the wooden door swung open. Lan Xichen smiled gently at his visitor, gesturing for him to enter. The Lan Sect Leader looked…just as he did months ago, during his last visit. Ethereal, with his fine features and firm jaw. His skin was pale and his golden eyes dull, but he still was… beautiful .
Jiang Cheng sucked in a sharp breath, tearing his gaze away from Lan Xichen pointedly. He couldn’t keep going on like this. He really couldn’t. He marched into the Hanshi, forcefully keeping himself focused on one objective at a time — make the Lan Sect Leader some of the lotus tea he’d brought from Yunmeng, and listen to whatever he had to share. None of those terrible, terrible feelings.
But even as they settled into their usual routine comfortably, Jiang Cheng was exhausted. The sleepless nights and mountains of work had taken their toll on him, and though it was genuine, having to force out a smile and a huff of laughter to keep up the facade that everything was just like it was before was draining. He’d enjoyed their conversations, the way Lan Xichen trusted him to confide in his concerns for his sect and for the junior cultivators he was teaching. Jiang Cheng could hear him talk all day, but now he had to do it with the lingering pangs of heartbreak echoing in his chest. And when Lan Xichen finally bid him goodbye after a few shichen , he looked significantly brighter than he’d been before. Jiang Cheng had helped the Lan Sect Leader in his seclusion and his recovery, but he would forever be stuck behind the dead man who occupied Lan Xichen’s heart. Lan Xichen, who was too kind to say an outright ‘no ’. For all he regretted his feelings for the man, Jiang Cheng would do all he could to bring him happiness once more.
But happiness came at a cost, Jiang Cheng grew to realise as he trudged back to his assigned room in Cloud Recesses. He had enjoyed himself, genuinely. Seeing Lan Xichen pull his lips into a genuine smile just once or twice was more than enough. But the effort it took left him more drained than completing a day of paperwork did. And Jiang Cheng all but collapsed back at his desk, gearing himself up to complete the work he’d pushed back to meet Lan Xichen.
Seeing Lan Xichen for the first time after so long and having to put up such a farce…Jiang Cheng felt like the Lan Sect Leader had stuck a spoon into the hole in his chest and scraped the measly contents out onto the ground. It left the healing wound raw, gaping wide-open and bloodied. There was a fresh wave of hurt that flooded Jiang Cheng’s senses.
Dull grey eyes stared at the stacks of paper before him, quill stilling in his grasp. He’d allowed himself to hope that Lan Xichen would change his mind then. That he would laugh and flick Jiang Cheng gently on the forehead for believing he wouldn’t return his feelings. That Lan Xichen would pull him closer, and press a soft kiss to his temple. But he never did, and Jiang Cheng found himself drowning in the depths of his sadness and disappointment and hope and disappointment and-
Jiang Cheng slammed his fist onto the desk, flinching when the wood gave an ominous crack in answer. He needed to pay for that, later. But for now, he needed to distract himself…in the only way he knew how.
And no matter how strong one’s cultivation was, cultivators were still humans and they still needed some amount of sleep.
It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Jiang Cheng all but staggered into the Great Hall for the Discussion Conference, the world around him whiting out in alarmingly large patches. He’d tried going to bed earlier, but the echoes of his imagination haunted his memories, leaving him grasping for a reality with the Lan Sect Leader that didn’t exist. So Jiang Cheng had dragged his weary body out onto the training ground and beat it into submission. By the time he was satisfied with his form, the sun was peeking out of the horizon and he’d stumbled back to his quarters to prepare for the Discussion Conference.
Jiang Cheng was barely aware of the concerned glances sent his way as he collapsed onto his seat, bone-deep exhaustion settling into his skin. At least he was on time. The Lans were hosting, so even though it was Lan Qiren seated at the head of the Great Hall, Lan Xichen was still present, elegantly seated next to his stone-faced brother. Pained eyes of gold bored into the hunched figure of the Jiang Sect Leader.
The Discussion Conference passed by in a blur, his Head Disciple thankfully handling any questions hurled his way with expert ease so Jiang Cheng could focus the remaining wisps of his energy on staying conscious, out of sheer will and respect for Grandmaster Lan. The meeting broke with a light murmuring of thanks, before the attendees flooded out of the hall.
“Sect Leader,” his Head Disciple whispered, snapping Jiang Cheng out of his reverie. “We should go.”
Nodding in assent, Jiang Cheng pulled his haggard body out of his seat, his legs numb from being trapped under him for so long. As he rose to his full height, his vision whited out, static buzzing in his ears as a sudden wave of dizziness consumed him.
The Jiang Sect Leader’s eyes fluttered shut, his forehead creased in pain as he swayed and teetered on the spot. The Head Disciple, alarmed, reached forward to support his Sect Leader as his knees buckled from underneath him. However, a flurry of white robes beat him to it.
When Jiang Cheng’s vision returned, warm honeyed eyes were staring at him, a frown marring those handsome features. Strong arms wrapped around his back, supporting his weight and pressing him against a firm chest. A soft curtain of dark hair cascaded around them, the white ends of his forehead ribbon gently caressing his cheek.
Lan Xichen was beautiful. And Jiang Cheng could feel the fond smile tugging at his lips through his delirium.
Beautiful…
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
When Jiang Cheng awoke, it was to a warm trickle of spiritual energy through his meridians, and his arm trapped in someone’s embrace. He blinked.
They were in the Hanshi, Jiang Cheng laying on a bed behind a privacy screen. Jiang Cheng’s palm was delicately cradled against Lan Xichen’s face, fingers pressed against his pulse point slowly supplying his drained supplies with spiritual energy. The Lan Sect Leader was asleep, the darkness circling his under-eyes rivalling Jiang Cheng’s own and dried tear streaks lining his cheeks. Jiang Cheng’s heart ached at the sight. Which fool had made Lan Xichen cry?
His finger twitched, and Lan Xichen was awake in an instant, broad palms enveloping Jiang Cheng’s and tugging them to his chest. There were still dark circles lining his eyes, but they peered at him with full focus.
“Wanyin,” Lan Xichen murmured, his eyes drooping shut with relief. Jiang Cheng watched, entranced, as a single tear slid from the corner of his eye. “You’re finally awake.”
Jiang Cheng let the Lan Sect Leader fuss over him for a moment, checking his meridians thoroughly and basking in the attention. It had been so long since he had felt…cared for. It was nice. And though it wouldn’t last, Jiang Cheng was selfish enough to take whatever Lan Xichen would offer him when he could.
“How long have I been out for?” Jiang Cheng asked, finally tugging his hand free from Lan Xichen’s clutches. The Lan Sect Leader let out a mournful sound that sent a tremor of shock down his spine.
‘A week or so. Young Master Jin told me about how you’ve been doing. The Jiang disciples have been worried about you for the past months.” Lan Xichen answered with a sigh, weariness shuttering over his features as he dragged a hand across his face. “I’ve caused you so much pain.”
“It’s fine.” In an instant, Jiang Cheng had thrown his walls up, a shutter falling over his open expression. “You can’t feel things you don’t, no matter how much time you give it. You can’t control these things.”
Lan Xichen blanched at the flatness of his words, his broad shoulders curling in over himself. “I…I do feel the same for you, Wanyin. I’m sorry if I made you believe otherwise. I selfishly tried to hold on to you and the hope that you had given me for as long as I could, even when I couldn’t see a way out for myself. But it seems that all I did was make things worse for you…”
“What…” Jiang Cheng shook himself out of his momentary stupor at the sudden confession. “It’s okay to want things for yourself, Xichen. To covet something that has been freely offered to you.”
With a hesitant, trembling hand, Jiang Cheng reached forward and grabbed Lan Xichen’s forearm in what he hoped was a reassuring motion. The Lan Sect Leader’s eyes were wide, something akin to doubt flickering across his face.
“I can’t lose you too, Wanyin.” Lan Xichen choked out, his hand coming to wrap around Jiang Cheng’s as warm tears burst free from their dam, sliding out from the corner of his eyes. Jiang Cheng’s chest ached, as though he could feel Lan Xichen’s distress like his own. “You’ve done far too much for me. I don’t deserve you-”
“How about you let me be the judge of what I do or don’t deserve, Xichen?” Jiang Cheng allowed a sliver of anger to creep into his voice, tightening his grip around Lan Xichen’s arm briefly. “Whatever you think about yourself, the blame you choose to shoulder – I know your worth, for I have spent decades looking up to you and leaning on you. One event doesn’t negate everything else you have achieved in your life. I decided that I am willing to share your sorrows and your happiness with you. Respect that I have made this choice and stop trying to convince me otherwise!”
Jiang Cheng glared at the Lan Sect Leader, chest heaving from exertion after his tirade. There was a moment where they simply stared at each other. Stormy grey eyes, narrowed in frustration, and honeyed gold orbs, filled with wonder. Then, Jiang Cheng found himself crushed in Lan Xichen’s embrace once again, a curious wetness blooming on his right shoulder. The ends of the white forehead ribbon tickled his cheek.
“Thank you, Wanyin.”