Chapter Text
Untamed verse
“I’m sorry,” Nie Huaisang said, so shocked that he didn’t even raise his fan in front of his face. “You want me to what now?”
“Help,” Lan Wangji said. He was seated across from Nie Huaisang, as stiff-backed and formal as if they were having a discussion conference banquet rather than a meal in Nie Huaisang’s private quarters in the Unclean Realm.
“Yes, I gathered as much,” Nie Huaisang said. “Two questions: Help with what? And – why me?”
Lan Wangji’s brow wrinkled minutely, which for the Lan sect suggested a state of extreme stress. “Brother has entered seclusion.”
“I know that,” Nie Huaisang said, firmly ignoring the niggling feeling of guilt. If Lan Xichen hadn’t wanted to be completely wrecked as collateral damage in Nie Huaisang’s revenge plan, he shouldn’t have tried to take Jin Guangyao’s side even after he knew what he’d done.
His da-ge deserved better than that. Especially from Lan Xichen.
“I have been appointed Chief Cultivator,” Lan Wangji said.
“I know that, too,” Nie Huaisang said. “I sent you a present in congratulations, didn’t I?”
Lan Wangji gave him a dead-eyed look, which meant he’d received it.
“I thought you and Wei Wuxian would enjoy it,” Nie Huaisang protested, hiding his twitching lips behind his fan. His favorite, as always – he might switch them out on a regular basis, but he always came back to this one, the one his brother had given him long, long ago. It served as a reminder that he should trust no one, which was a concept his stupid heart had a tendency to otherwise forget. “I understand that appropriate preparation is a very important part of the proceedings –”
The dead-eyed looked turned into a glare, and Nie Huaisang coughed into his hand and stopped talking about the jade phallus and jar of lubricant that he’d sent to the Cloud Recesses in a discreet package under the guise of a congratulations gift.
He really hoped he was lucky enough that Lan Wangji had opened it in front of other people, but sadly he suspected the other man knew him too well to do that.
“Speaking of which, have you married him yet?” he asked, ignoring his hurt at not having been informed. He hadn’t expected an invitation to the happy event itself, of course; Wei Wuxian had made very clear what he’d thought about what Nie Huaisang had done – don’t associate with evil. There was a reason that Nie Huaisang had carefully returned to referring to Wei Wuxian by name, rather than casually. But not even to receive a letter informing him of it having happened…?
“I have not,” Lan Wangji said. When Nie Huaisang goggled at him, disbelieving, he shifted minutely in his seat and said, “He wanted to travel. I – could not.”
“Well, of course you couldn’t,” Nie Huaisang said blankly. “You’re the Lan sect heir. If your brother goes into seclusion, then responsibility for managing your sect falls to you – and of course you were just named Chief Cultivator – wait, are you doing both jobs by yourself?”
Lan Wangji nodded.
Nie Huaisang had a momentary feeling of sincere pity, and then the true horror sunk in.
“And you’re asking me to help you?!” he yowled. “Hanguang-jun! You can’t be serious! Don’t you know what everyone says about me? Me, the hapless ‘I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know’, the one they all call the Headshaker?”
“I know what they call you,” Lan Wangji said, stoic as ever. “I also know what they said about Wei Ying, and about Lianfeng-zun. There is not much gain in listening to what people say.”
“I don’t think those are comparable situations,” Nie Huaisang complained, but even he had to admit it was a bit of a weak response.
“No?” Lan Wangji said. “Then you are not the man who drove Lianfeng-zun into a corner with no route of escape?”
Well, when he put it that way.
“That doesn’t mean I know anything about running a sect,” Nie Huaisang pointed out. “Sure, I’ve managed, but I had –” Er-ge and san-ge do it. “- help.”
“They each had their own sects to run,” Lan Wangji pointed out in return. “You must have done much of it yourself.”
“But –”
“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Wangji said, and Nie Huaisang blinked. Lan Wangji hadn’t called him as informally as that in years, and certainly never since he became Sect Leader. “Please. As a favor to me.”
Nie Huaisang pursed his lips and looked down at his plate, reaching out and playing with his teacup.
It was a low blow, that.
Pity for Lan Wangji that low blows didn’t work on him anymore.
“We used to be friends, once,” Nie Huaisang said, not looking up. “A long time ago – do you remember? I was seven, you were eight, it was right after my father died. I slept in your room.”
He’d had screaming nightmares back then, and they were worse when he was alone. It hadn’t been just about his father, either, but his brother, the memory of fear in his eyes and bruises on his face, the desperate way he’d pleaded for Nie Huaisang to agree to go to Gusu just for a little while, the persistent worry about what was happening back home once he’d agreed, the haunting thoughts of losing him in the same way he’d lost his father…
Lan Wangji hadn’t been much of a talker back then, either, but he’d crawled into the cot they’d set up for Nie Huaisang in his room and had held his hand, right up until he’d passed out like clockwork at nine. His steady breathing had reminded Nie Huaisang of his brother, calming his nerves, and eventually he’d started confiding in him. Telling him all his fears – the secrets he’d guessed about the Nie family cultivation he only half-understood – the qi deviations –
“I remember,” Lan Wangji said.
“Later, when I came back to the Cloud Recesses to learn for the first time, I was so excited to see you again, and so disappointed to find out you were preparing to go into seclusion. When I snuck over to see you, you chased me away – and when you came out, you only spoke to me long enough to scold me about how I wasn’t obeying the rules properly. I thought you were embarrassed to be seen with me.”
Lan Wangji said nothing. He probably had been. With the benefit of hindsight and age, Nie Huaisang could even understand: adolescence was such a prickly age, and little things seemed so important.
“I was angry at you back then,” Nie Huaisang said. “Very angry – but all I did was start treating you coldly, calling you Lan-er-gongzi instead of Lan Zhan, waiting for you to remember that you liked me. And then the next year we had all those adventures together, you and me and Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, and of course we were close again during the war. You remember, I’m sure, how we used to stay together every time you came back to the Cloud Recesses or visited the Unclean Realm, how I couldn’t do anything for the war but worry, couldn’t do anything but keep you company, but you said it helped to lift your spirits before you headed out again. I even sent you letters after what happened with Wei-xiong– with Wei Wuxian. The siege of the Burial Mounds. I knew how close you were, and I wanted to comfort you if I could...but you never responded to any of them.”
He shook his head and rolled the teacup from one hand to another.
“And then you didn’t show up when my brother died. In seclusion again! For years and years! The honorable Hanguang-jun, always thinking about his cultivation; what a good seed you are, a pride and joy to your sect. Just like everyone always said.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Lan Wangji said. His voice was very quiet, a little hoarse. “I was not well.”
Nie Huaisang shrugged. “No one ever explained, either then or thereafter. And no one else ever guessed ‘busy mourning the death of the love of your life’ was the reason, either, so I don’t know why you would expect me to.”
“You never spoke to me again,” Lan Wangji said, his jaw and throat working. He’d tried, a few times, but Nie Huaisang had looked through him as if he wasn’t there, twittering like a foolish little bird with only the most formal of addresses on his lips. “Only in passing, when you came to visit my brother.”
“As I’m sure you’ve realized by now, I’m very good at holding a grudge,” Nie Huaisang said, and put his teacup down. He knew perfectly well that he was being unfair, that he was being cruel and selfish and completely disregarding the many ways he had undoubtedly been unfair to Lan Wangji in turn through lack of consideration or otherwise. But he was cruel and selfish, his mission this past decade and more evidence enough of that, and that old pain of abandonment had lingered far past the point of reason. Still lingered, if he was being honest. “I’m sorry that you’re struggling, and for my part in it, but you’re going to have to do better than please.”
Lan Wangji was quiet, bowing his head. After a time, he said, “I was in recovery during that period. I did not learn about what had happened to your brother until – until much later. It was kept from me so as not to disturb me as I was healing...I can show you the remaining marks, if you wish.”
“That’d be something,” Nie Huaisang said, because he was a petty person like that. Because that had hurt back then, thinking that Lan Wangji was ignoring him even at that most desperate moment, hurt more than anything.
Well. Not more than anything.
Not more than losing his brother. Than finding out the truth about Jin Guangyao.
Than realizing he was the only one who could right this wrong, and that he would have to do it alone.
“If things had been different,” Lan Wangji said, and he did not lift his head. “If things had gone – otherwise. Would you have trusted me?”
Now it was Nie Huaisang’s turn to bow his head. If he had had Lan Wangji, had trusted Lan Wangji…yes, things might have gone very differently.
For Lan Xichen, at least.
“Perhaps,” he said, unwilling to commit himself but knowing that his mere lack of response said everything. “But enough about the past. Far more importantly - what about the future?”
Lan Wangji blinked at him.
Nie Huaisang sighed. “You’re right. I did learn to run a sect, at least somewhat. I may not be very good at it, but I know all the things a sect leader ought to know – all the secrets, all the gossip, how to commit to nothing while making people think you’ve agreed, who should sit next to who and who shouldn’t, what’s a trap and what isn’t, all the things you’ve never needed to care about it. Your brother made sure I knew it all, and told me many stories about things he was doing to run your sect to use as examples. As you suspected, I can probably help you, even if only in figuring out how to appropriately delegate the work.”
“But?”
“I may not be a very good custodian of it, but my sect is the only thing I have left,” Nie Huaisang said. “And you may have once been my friend, Lan Zhan, but now you’re the Chief Cultivator. Do not associate with evil. Am I to expect a freeze in trade relations? A subtle ostracization of my disciples? Will I be invited to the discussion conferences, or will people turn their faces away from me?” He shrugged. “You don’t get to play hot and cold with me anymore. You want my help, you stand by my side. No more judgment.”
Lan Wangji was frowning. “As Chief Cultivator, I must be impartial.”
“Just like the last three were? Wen Ruohan, Jin Guangshan, Jin Guangyao…oh yes, impartiality is truly intrinsic to the position, with such grand examples in your predecessors,” Nie Huaisang said archly, and this time he did open his fan. Trust no one. “I’m not asking for favoritism. Equality with all the others, and your support if someone tries to criticize me or remove me, especially for anything to do with Jin Guangyao; that’ll be enough. Well?”
Lan Wangji considered it for a long time.
It wasn’t anything personal – Lan Wangji was a contemplative sort of person – so Nie Huaisang didn’t take offense, just waited, occasionally moving to eat a little of the food.
“Very well,” Lan Wangji finally said. “I agree.”
Nie Huaisang was ready with his next question, and also a bite of some grilled vegetables, which he swallowed down before speaking. “And if Wei Wuxian doesn’t?”
Lan Wangji’s hands tightened around his knees. “I have said I will defend you. I have not named exceptions.”
“Just checking,” Nie Huaisang said, then smiled and put some of the vegetables into Lan Wangji’s bowl. “Eat up, Lan Zhan! We’re going to have our work cut out for us.”
Lan Wangji nodded. He seemed resigned.
“If you want, I’ll even deal with Jiang Cheng for you,” Nie Huaisang said. “But it’ll cost you.”
Lan Wangji tilted his head to the side, as if it could hide how much his eyes had brightened in anticipation of that particular burden being taken off his back.
“Remember when we were kids and I asked you to do my copying for me?”
A slow blink. “You want me to do paperwork?”
“I want you to do so much paperwork,” Nie Huaisang said emphatically. He even waved his hands around in emphasis, he meant it so strongly. “I’ll tell you what needs to be done and who needs to do it, I’ll show you how to keep the smaller sects in line and how to manage conferences, but if I never see another memorial in my life it will be too soon..!”
“I think,” Lan Wangji said dryly, “that we will be able to devise an equitable division of labor.”
“Old friend!” Nie Huaisang trilled happily, holding out his arms.
“Do not hug me.”
“Ah, Lan Zhan, don’t be like that –”
“Do not hug me.”
“Don’t be so cold! How are we going to get Wei Wuxian back by your side if we don’t put some effort into making him jealous?”
“…explain.”
“Well, the way I see it –”