Chapter Text
Most of Wei Ying’s memories of his parents were only whispers in his mind. Their edges were worn by hunger and cold nights. Learning how to survive and living by it had taken priority over keeping nice thoughts such as the memories of his parents. His early days had blurred together into fear, empty stomachs, and being so, so alone in a world that would not soften for a small pup on the streets.
He did have one memory of them that he kept close to his heart. Something to balm the aches and pains on the worst days. Something warm to curl up in.
He remembered riding on his father’s back. The broad shoulders of a timber wolf moving down a forest path with unhurried confidence, each step sure and deliberate. Wei Ying’s small body had been tucked between shoulder blades and thick fur, his fingers loosely curled into it as the ground rolled gently beneath him.
His mother walked beside them. A red wolf, her coat catching the light like embers, her tail flicking as she glanced over at him. Her laughter in this form was a warm, huffing breath that carried her joy with ease. Her spiced green tea scent had been bright and alive in the air around them, threaded with contentment.
It mixed perfectly with his father’s scent of earthy incense. Their combined scents seemed to wrap around him like a warm embrace. He knew he would always be safe and loved when those scents held him. Here he was home.
For that stretch of forest path, dappled with sunlight and shadows from trees, the world had felt gentle and kind. Here there was a place carved out where he belonged without question, without earning it, without fear of being left behind. It was one of his fondest memories. One of the only times in his life he had ever felt wanted and loved.
They left not long after that, and they never came back.
There was a mercy in not remembering most of the years on the streets of Yiling. What he did remember came in pieces. Hunger that sank deep into his bones and sent his hands shaking. The sour hollowness of an empty belly that never eased. Cold nights curled tight in narrow alleys with his back pressed against even colder stone, too afraid to sleep as he strained to listen for approaching threats.
A too-small red wolf pup, ribs sharp under patchy fur, tail tucked as he burrowed into piles of trash for warmth. Relying solely on his instincts that told him fur was safer than skin. Instinct was wrong as often as it was right, but at least it was warmer.
He quickly learned that dogs ruled the streets. To him, they were huge and mean. Starving just as much as he was, but able to fight tooth and nail for every scrap. Any food he managed to find had drawn their attention. He learned not to try to run with his meal after the first time he was chased down. No amount of food was worth the sharp teeth shredding into his flesh. His best chance was to make himself small and slink away, stomach clenching with hunger and fear, but hopefully in one piece.
He started to learn which market stalls threw fruit and vegetable peelings at dusk. Learned to snatch melon rinds, cabbage cores, anything that came his way no matter the taste. He ate quickly so the dogs wouldn't notice, with the bonus of avoiding really tasting any of it.
The fear of dogs that materialized from his early days on the streets followed him through the rest of his years. Any sight or sound of one sent him into a panic so intense he’d lose any rationality. He had enough scars along his limbs from wounds he had licked clean alone in dark alleyways to validate that fear.
Back then, his scent had still been laced with the milky innocence of a young pup. Sometimes that helped him; some people would wrinkle their noses, glance down at the skinny, big-eyed child hovering near their stall, and sigh. They would gift him foods he’d never manage to find on his own: steamed buns, bread, whole fruits, and more.
Every time, he made sure to smile brightly and thank them for their kindness, just like his parents had taught him. They would often frown down at him, his smile too big for his hollow cheeks. He would hurry off to eat his gift before something stronger noticed and took it away.
Other times his pup scent made things worse. Some saw small and alone and decided that allowed cruelty. Food snatched away mid-bite. A blanket kicked aside. Fingers in his hair, tossing him away from shops he’d been deemed to be lingering around for too long. Weakness drew teeth as often as it drew pity.
He did not like thinking about that time. Even now, if he thought too long on those memories, his chest would tighten, and that feeling of unease would start up under his skin.
He remembered the day Jiang Fengmian found him.
“A-Ying?”
The name had felt strange in his ears. He hadn't been called that name in so long; he had forgotten it had belonged to him. That he had a name at all. Names had no importance to him here.
He had been crouched in an alley, grasping a strip of rind with bits of watermelon still clinging to it as though it were precious, dirt smeared across his face, ready to bolt the moment the person who had approached him got too close.
Jiang Fengmian had smelled like lotus and river water and something inviting Wei Ying had not realized he still craved until it was right in front of him. He was offering safety, warmth, and protection. Everything he had once needed so badly that he had taught himself to stop wanting it at all. He went without hesitation.
He should have known better than to trust so completely.
Many good things came with living with the Jiangs.
Wei Ying knew Jiang-shushu loved him. He saw it when the man looked at him. He could feel it in the way the man praised and taught him. But his love held a weight that had nothing to do with Wei Ying himself. It was tangled with guilt and grief. That love sparked rumors that haunted the entire Jiang family.
Jiang Cheng had been prickly from the start. He was naturally short-tempered and proud, but also vied for approval he never seemed to get. Having to rehome his dogs, his closest companions, because of Wei Ying’s crippling fear started their relationship on poor footing. Yet they managed to grow around that hurt and develop a strong brotherhood. Pups who would bite, snarl, and wrestle each other into the ground, but never hesitate to stand back-to-back to defend one another when needed.
Jiang Yanli had been the first warm thing in that house to reach out and accept him with open arms. Her gentle hands and soft presence had mended the deepest, loneliest parts of Wei Ying. She made space for him in her heart without asking him to earn it. Through her, he slowly stopped feeling like a guest in Lotus Pier and started to feel like he was home.
Wei Ying did not form pack bonds easily. When Jiang-shushu had asked the healers about his lack of bonding, they hypothesized that the trauma of losing his parents' bonds and being forced to live alone on the streets had caused his mind to put up a wall to protect him from that same trauma recurring. He could love someone, but his mind would bar the bond from forming. However, when Wei Ying did form bonds, they rooted deeply within him. They meant everything.
He never quite managed to form bonds with his Shushu, but Wei Ying found himself deeply attached to his two siblings. He loved them with the reckless, all-consuming devotion of someone who knew what it meant to lose those bonds and would do anything to keep it from happening again. He would have given them every piece of himself without a second thought if it meant their happiness.
Yu Furen was a different story. There was no attempt at a pack bond waiting for him there. No love or acceptance to be found. She actively detested his presence and made sure everyone knew it. He was a shameful blot on the sect’s history. The regularity of meals was a welcome change; the regularity of punishments was an unexpected price. Wei Ying was quick to learn to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible in her presence.
Still, there was a roof over his head, food on his plate, warmth in winter. It was far better than the streets. The feeling of being unsafe never disappeared entirely, but in Lotus Pier it dulled to a distant buzz beneath his skin. Easy enough to ignore most days, as long as he didn’t look too closely at the cracks.
When Jiang Yanli presented as an omega, the entire sect celebrated. It was such a blessing. How fortunate the Jiang clan was to have such a perfect omega daughter.
Yanli herself had been quickly secluded in a room with a litany of trained omega attendants instructed to bring her nourishing meals, plenty of the softest nesting materials, and soothing herbs to quell the worst of it. She never had time to question her safety or wellbeing. It was easily ensured.
Yu Furen forbade Wei Ying from going anywhere near her rooms, of course. He didn’t dare argue. When he was finally allowed to see her again, he beamed so hard his cheeks hurt, offering loud congratulations and ridiculous jokes until she laughed, her newly blossomed jasmine scent wrapping around them both. She practically glowed as an omega, and it only added to her warmth. Wei Ying was so happy for her.
Jiang Cheng’s early presentation as an alpha surprised absolutely no one. The sect celebrated him too. A perfect set of children. An omega daughter and an alpha son.
Jiang Cheng was kept in his room, carefully monitored by beta attendants who guided him through it. When he emerged, he seemed steadier and more settled. Wei Ying had slung an arm around his shoulders with an easy grin.
“About time,” he teased.
Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes, but his scent, warm rain and petrichor, swelled with contentment. He now had his place in the world that fit him perfectly. Wei Ying was happy for him too.
He waited for his own presentation. He waited so long with no sign of it that a foolish hope began to grow. Maybe he would be a beta. It would be the best outcome. Presenting as an alpha would place him in further competition with Jiang Cheng, consequently angering Yu Furen. He didn't know what would happen if he presented as an omega, but he couldn't imagine it would be good. Yu Furen would probably try selling him to the first suitor just to get rid of him.
In the end, it didn't matter what he had hoped for. He should have known better than to let himself hope.
He was fourteen when he finally presented, and it could not have come at a worse time. He had gotten carried away in training, accidentally outperforming Jiang Cheng. It might have slipped under Yu Furen’s radar if some disciples hadn't been walking near her while lightheartedly joking about it.
Yu Furen had not found any of it funny. She cornered him in a far corridor, her ozone scent pressing down into his skin. He had tried to make himself small, pressing back against a wall and bracing himself for the sting of words he was sure to receive.
In his fear, his body made a gamble. His breathing picked up as a shiver ran down his spine. Dizzying heat bloomed low in his stomach. The scent seeped out of him, impossible to stop. It was sweet and floral. It was so familiar to him; it only took him a minute to place it. It was lotus blossoms, sweetened further by honey. He liked the scent— his scent. He thought it was a pleasant scent to call his own. It was also unmistakably omega.
His body’s gamble did not pay off. It had tried to make him small and unthreatening, had tried to garner affection or sympathy, offered submission to ask for protection, to fend off imminent violence. An omega generally would be given these things easily, but not him.
His biology had catastrophically miscalculated. Yu Furen’s expression had gone from anger to something even colder, twisting with disgusted fury.
Before he knew it, there was a bruising grip on his arm, and he was shoved into a distant storage room. The door slammed behind him, and the lock turned. There had been no bed, just a collection of old grain sacks that had gone musty with age.
He remembered curling in on himself, his instincts screaming unsafe, unsafe, unsafe. He had tried to build a nest out of those sacks. His instincts had pleaded for one, anything to feel a semblance of safety or comfort. Yet he had nothing to make a nest with to satisfy the urge. His voice had grown rough as he called out for Shijie, for A-Cheng, for anyone. No one had come.
The fevered heat under his skin eventually burned itself out days later, leaving him shaking with a bone-deep cold that had much more to do with suffering through a heat, his first, utterly alone, than with the actual temperature.
He was vulnerable and unwanted. Something inside him had permanently shifted, like a broken bone that had been set wrong and would ache for the rest of his life. The first heat was a formative experience for omegas. It was supposed to fill them with love and confidence in their presentation, allowing them to blossom. Wei Ying’s experience had shaken him, leaving him feeling cold and terrified.
When the locked door had finally opened, the spark of hope was quickly crushed when Yu Furen stepped inside.
Wei Ying had been beyond exhausted. He hadn’t eaten. There had been no food in the room, and no one to bring it or remind him that his body still needed to eat. When she stepped in, he wasn’t sure he had the strength left to endure the inevitable shouting and pain.
The whine had slipped from his throat without his permission, only fueling Yu Furen’s anger. Her voice was low and furious.
“How dare you,” she said. “How dare you cheat your way into this house and cause trouble. Undermine Jiang Cheng, the future sect leader, an alpha, and then present as an omega on top of it. Do you have any idea how that looks?”
He didn't know, but he wouldn't ask. Wei Ying kept his eyes lowered and didn’t dare to respond at all.
“No one can know you are an omega,” she said.
This time the words were said with a weight that made his chest tighten with the need to comply. He would realize later what it was. His first alpha command, said coldly and with finality, crushing him with its force.
“Do you understand?” she continued, voice cold and final. “From this moment on, you are a beta.”
Wei Ying’s body locked up with tremors. Even if he had wanted to argue, to deny it, to tell anyone, he couldn’t. The order wrapped tight around him, sinking into his bones and instincts until there was no ability to resist.
“Do you understand?” she asked again, while he’d been curled on the floor, shaking with nothing but the old sacks for comfort.
“Answer me!”
“Yes, Furen,” he managed, the words ripped out of him.
“Good,” she said flatly.
She tossed two things at him. He flinched as they struck him in the side.
A tincture to suppress omega instincts, and a paste to smear along the scent glands at his neck. Something to strip the honey from his scent and dull the lotus into something passable as beta. She made sure he used both. Just like that, his presentation was denied and stripped from him.
Yu Furen didn’t look at him when she left. He stayed on the floor for a while longer, trembling and trying to piece himself back together. He had to figure out how to navigate now that an integral part of himself had been buried under commands, lying there, breathing in the thick, suffocating scent of his own fear, pain, and loneliness.
There would be no congratulations or celebrations for Wei Ying’s presentation. No one would even know his true secondary gender, only the lie that Wei Ying was forced to uphold. Wei Ying was a beta. There was no other option. Yu Furen made sure of it.
When he finally managed to get his legs beneath him and left that room, he tried to return to daily life as if nothing had happened at all. He was not surprised to learn that Yu Furen had told everyone he had come down with a troublesome cold to excuse his sudden absence. Jiang Cheng made petulant comments about having to train the juniors in Wei Ying’s absence, but his true worry was easy to spot if you knew where to look. Jiang Yanli openly fretted over him, trying to convince Wei Ying to rest and sternly feeding him her soup. He must've looked bad, judging by Shijie’s face. Going several days without food and in a mentally and physically draining state with no care would do that to someone.
Their comfort barely scraped the surface of the confusing twist of emotions Wei Ying felt inside. He felt like his world had been flipped upside down, and he had to traverse the new path set before him. But his siblings had no idea what had truly occurred, nor could they, and they were worried. He didn’t like them worrying about him, so he swallowed his emotions, painting a happy face to soothe their concerns.
Their presence and the weight of the bond between them did bring some reprieve to the ordeal he had endured, and if he leaned into Shijie’s comfort a little more than normal, well, neither of them mentioned it. There was no doubt in his mind that he loved his siblings, but after that he never foolishly let himself feel safe in Lotus Pier again.
He adjusted to the added steps in his routines. The herbal tincture burned as he consumed it, leaving him feeling hollowed out and distant. The scent paste dulled his brand-new scent. He shouldn't have been so attached to the honeyed lotus, but he was; it was his, and it smelled right. It hurt to hide it away. For his instincts to be so afraid of it, of breaking the alpha command, that he overused the scent paste, just in case his scent tried to slip out.
He had to play the part of his old self more often than not. His emotions were too numb, his mind too worried about everything going wrong for him to continue the way he had been. The happy, laughing Head Disciple who always wore a smile. He laughed louder and smiled more to keep the facade in place so nobody looked too closely at the cracks.
There was one instinct the tincture couldn't fully suppress. He had tried to ignore it, but as one sleepless night turned into three, he caved. He built a small nest out of his bedding, guided only by instinct, having seen no other omega make one, nor being able to ask anyone how.
He was surprised by the calmness that had settled over him once he settled into his nest. His overactive mind quieted as a feeling of safety and comfort washed over him, and he finally fell asleep.
He tore it apart in the morning despite his instincts revolting against the process. He couldn't risk anyone seeing it, especially Yu Furen. That became routine too, carefully crafting a nest at night, then removing any trace of it in the morning.
He dreaded his heats with every bone in his body. They were rare for him, far less frequent than most omegas. He didn’t know if there was something wrong with him, but at the same time, he would have preferred never to have another one again. He went several moons between them, long enough for him to hope his body had given up and it would never happen again. Much to his chagrin, he always had another.
After the initial trauma to his omega during his first heat, each following heat compounded on that trauma, only adding to feelings of being alone, unwanted, and unsafe unsafe unsafe.
Every time the warning signs began, he tried to deny and excuse the symptoms. Tried to convince himself that it wasn't happening again. That the restless sleep was from his busy mind, the sensitivity to touch and scents was just being overtired, and the ache pounding through his head was from stress alone.
When he felt that low, sick warmth curling in his belly, he knew there was no more denying it. The fear simmering under his skin would grip him tightly. He wasn’t ready to spend the days burning alone and scared in that storeroom. He didn't want to; he truly didn't. Why’d he have to be an omega? Here, where he'd never be allowed to be one, where he had to suffer like this?
But the commands would snap tight around his mind, forcing his compliance, forcing him to hide away. He picked from a litany of excuses, from nighthunts to sickness, to explain his absence, much to Jiang Cheng’s aggravation at having to pick up Wei Ying’s slack. Shijie always looked worried, as if she thought there was something else to it. Wei Ying made sure to keep his mask firmly in place, smiling and joking as much as he could, feeding them lies before disappearing to hide from them.
That same storeroom became the place he spent every heat. He tried to bring supplies to it when he wasn't in heat, to help them feel less dreadful, but he couldn't manage more than a single blanket. He had shaken and spiraled so badly after bringing said blanket that he never returned. The room brought him too much pain. It was the place of one of his greatest traumas, where he burned alone and trembling over and over again. He could not bear to enter until the commands forced him to.
He was glad to have that one blanket, folding it into the meager nest of musty grain bags, adding some softness to the scratchy material. He didn't bother crying out anymore; he knew it was useless. No one would come to this far storeroom, and the commands disallowed him from bringing attention to himself regardless. He just lay there, curled into his nest, hugging himself as the heat burned through him, wishing he could disappear.
He hated the coldness that took hold after his heat burned out. He felt hollow and sore, his body shaking from exertion and hunger. And so, so lonely. Even worse than when he was on the streets. At least there he had known he was on his own. Here, he was surrounded by people who said they cared, and yet he was still left to his own devices when he needed others.
Yu Furen always came at the end. She always looked at him in utter disgust, wrinkling her nose as though his scent was the worst thing she’d ever smelled. He could barely suppress the whine in his throat at her expression, at the thought that he must smell so abhorrent. That he failed even in that regard. She was the only one who knew his scent and what he was, and she despised both.
“Clean yourself up,” she said, her eyes sharp with disdain. “Do not leave this room smelling like that. You are a beta.”
The commands layered together, reinforcing themselves until his throat was tight and his mind begged to comply. Beta, he had to be a beta.
Wei Ying believed her, eventually. There was nothing worth congratulating. Nothing worth celebrating. An omega as unwanted and shameful as he was would only ever be a burden to everyone around him.
He would tell himself that this was what he deserved while curling into his temporary nest and holding himself together at the seams.
There was some small part of him that still remembered sitting upon his father’s back next to his mother, still remembered the feeling of pack and warmth and safety and being wanted, but it was buried deeply under this new reality.
When Wei Ying was told he would be accompanying Jiang Cheng to study in the Cloud Recesses, initially relief hit him so hard it almost made him dizzy. Anything that gave him distance from Lotus Pier, from the anger that watched his every move and punishments that had only grown harsher since his presentation, felt like mercy.
Yu Furen’s temper had shortened with time. Her blows had only gotten more violent. Somehow, everything he did had become wrong. He constantly toed the line between being too visible and loud or too soft and submissive. He couldn't escape her judgement no matter what he did.
Her corrections were always physical, meant to scar, and meshed with the alpha commands she placed on him during. When the commands forced his compliance, muscle memory brought with it the pain of disobedience.
The thought of leaving her endless supervision brought relief.
He was still apprehensive, though. In Gusu, no one would be there to force the lie into place for him. No one to check that his scent was adequately buried or if his omega instincts were slipping loose. No punishments to keep him in check. He would have to be extra vigilant of himself.
He also knew better than to hope too much. Any inkling of him misstepping would certainly make its way back to Yu Furen. Her punishments would only be postponed, ready for him when he returned.
So he went, armed with artfully hidden bundles of scent-masking paste and suppressant tinctures, and a fresh lattice of marks across his back to remind him of his place and the image he had to uphold.
Leaving Shijie hurt the most. The bond between them tugged painfully. He had come to rely on her gentle, soothing presence through the years. He wasn't sure what he would do without her. She pressed food into his hands, adjusted his robes, and smiled at him as though he were something precious and not troublesome.
“Write when you can,” she told him gently.
Preventing himself from clinging to her took more strength than any training exercise ever had.
On the otherwise mindless journey north, he let himself visualize what it might be like. Maybe Gusu would be better. Maybe if he just stayed out of the way and kept his scent buried and his instincts chained, he could relax there without constantly waiting for the shoe to drop.
That fragile hope had cracked down the center when he saw the thousands of rules carved upon the wall in the Cloud Recesses. There were so many he was dizzy with it. He knew then that the punishments would follow him after all.