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deercountry2023-02-05 03:19 pm
baiyueguang) wrote in deercountry2023-02-05 03:19 pmEntry tags:
baiyueguang) wrote in deercountry2023-02-05 03:19 pm
February Prompts
Bad Luck Blues (For Shen Yuan)
"I know these precautionary measures may seem excessive," he says, closing the closet door behind them. "But while I was afflicted, A-Yao and I had to repeat the rite thrice because the effigy kept meeting some absurd end before the night was through."
Hopefully they would only have to do this once.
With the effigy tucked away safely, Lan Xichen puts the kettle on and starts unpacking the snacks he'd brought for the night. He'd been very insistent that Shen Yuan sit back, take it easy, and let him handle everything after a shelf had inexplicably snapped, and dropped its entire contents on Shen Yuan's head.
He prepares the hot chocolate in covered thermos mugs so that Shen Yuan is less likely to have an incident where it spills and scalds him - checks the lids to ensure they're secure once, twice, three times before he decides instead to use his chilly qi to bring the temperature down from hot enough to burn, to hot enough to take the perfect bath in. There. Even if the lids fly off, the worst that will happen is stained clothes and stickiness.
He finally joins Shen Yuan on the sofa, passing him the mug and then laying out the numerous array of snacks.
"We just have to get through the night, yes?"
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It helped, of course, that Lan Xichen was being so nice about the whole thing. The awkwardness was entirely on Shen Yuan's end, even he could tell that much. So he manages to dredge up a grateful smile as he watches Xichen prepare the hot chocolate, and jokes, "I suppose I should count myself lucky that my good friends worked out all the kinks in the ritual for trying it on me."
Once he's (carefully!) accepted the mug and Xichen has sat down as well, Shen Yuan nods before taking a (caaaaaareful) sip. "Thank you for this," he says quietly. "I was really reaching my wit's end."
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"Shen-gongzi should not thank this one yet. The night's only begun, and the curse is persistent."
There it is, that mischievous look in his eyes as he takes a delicate sip of cocoa. Truly, if Lan Xichen had grown up under far less strict conditions, he'd probably be an absolute menace to society.
As it is, he limits himself to playful teasing. Probably for the best.
"This one is very glad Shen-gongzi asked for help - with the way things were escalating..."
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"Cars are transportation machines that were in heavy use in my original world," he explains, settling back against the cushions. "Lan-gongzi might have already seen pictures of them on the network or in books...?" He doesn't want to techsplain things Lan Xichen had already discovered for himself.
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He nods sagely, rather oblivious to the fact most people from his time period would not adapt this quickly to ideas of modern technology, let alone comfortably use it, but then again Lan Xichen was leader of the sect with the biggest library in the Jianghu. Handing him a library he can fit in the palm of his hand was probably going to be a match made in heaven.
The wiki rabbitholes he could tell you about.
"They seem very useful. They run on something called a combustible engine...? I am sure it's very different to the image I have in mind."
That being a screaming heap of metal on fire.
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He quick shakes off the melancholy weight try to cling to his thoughts and says, "If Lan-gongzi continues with his research, he may soon know more about the subject than I do. In my time use of cars was widespread, but their inner workings were considered specialist knowledge -- not unlike the way a cultivator might make daily use of a sword all their life, without the first idea how to make one themselves. But the combustion engine --" He makes the correction gently, with amusement but also great respect -- "Uses a small spark to ignite the vapors produced by měng huǒ yóu, and thusly generate enough energy to push the moving parts of the engine into motion. It doesn't involve any actual fire unless something has gone terribly wrong."
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That is a rather ingenious use of natural gases, though! He'd only ever seen měng huǒ yóu used to fuel lamps, but this made the use of it seem - well - endless.
"It is no wonder Shen-gongzi's world has thrived," he says. And he has seen his world through the window of film, taking it with a bit of a grain of salt for no matter how close, something of artifice could never perfectly emulate reality. But the glass buildings towering up to the heavens, and the rush of, yes, cars. He'd been quite taken with it, though also unsettled by the lack of greenery.
"There is a young miss on the network who works with such things. She has a workshop, though I never mustered the courage to ask her about it. She seemed..."
Abrasive. A little unhinged.
"...Preoccupied."
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"Is this young miss someone I'd know?" he asks curiously. There were several outspoken young ladies on the network, of varying levels of notoriety. Another reason to respect Lan Xichen: he never looked down on them for their gender or judged them for taking up space in the public sphere.
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"...I don't know."
He frowns, thumbing his chin thoughtfully - an echo of his uncle's beardstroking he picked up in his youth.
"She was quite rambunctious. And her hair is a rather striking shade of blue? In any case, she may be able to replicate something like cars. I expect they would be very useful here.
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He shakes his head slightly. "I can see the appeal, from an outside perspective...but when I look at Trench and think of how many things would have to change to make cars usable, it seems to me that people are better off just leaving things the way they are right now."
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"Though I see your point - to develop a system where such machines are not only viable but also practical for day-to-day use in Trench would be a considerable undertaking."
He smiles a touch ruefully to himself.
"And if cars are as dangerous as they are in films -" so many brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, and lovers tragically dead in car accidents! "- then I hate to see what effects Trench might have on them. This bad luck curse has been difficult enough without bringing several hundred pounds of automated metal into it."
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"Arranging society so the cars can be driven safely would be an even greater undertaking than making the cars themselves," he says, ticking off points on his fingers. "There's building safe and durable roads, building a consensus about traffic laws, enforcing those traffic laws...I'm not even sure how we'd do that, with out some sort of centralized constabulary." Shit, does Trench even really need cops??
Let's just indefinitely table that question for now. "Jin-ge really talks about his work in your world," he says instead, with a leading little inquisitive look. "I can understand why, but surely it wasn't all bad...?"
Surely Lan Xichen has some pleasant stories to share about his husband, the great administrator? :3c
Wedding Bells A-Ringing (February 14th, Closed to Jin Guangyao)
It is the one thought that grounds him to the notion that this is happening, that it's real, this isn't some dream his grieving mind concocted wholecloth. Jin Guangyao is alive, and whole, and standing in front of him and they're about to take their bows and exchange wine (a very weak wine, and only one little sip for Xichen), and he looks so utterly beautiful in red, Lan Xichen may not actually make it through the reception without doing something very rash and foolish that would earn him many disapproving stares and beardstrokes from Uncle Qiren.
If they were in Jinlintai or Gusulan, this would probably be a more robust celebration (or at least a more robust ceremony - the Lan Sect didn't really do celebrations). But they had both wanted something more modest. Perhaps for Jin Guangyao, it was to draw a sharp distinction in his mind between this and his… other marriage. For Lan Xichen, he wanted something private not because he is ashamed (quite the contrary), but because something fierce and possessive inside him drew itself up from a sluggish slumber and growled at the back of his mind that this, this thing was theirs, this small, great, precious thing could not belong to anyone else, they could not come and take it from them.
Moreover, he had a wedding gift for his beloved - something very personal, and not something he wanted to give to him in front of prying eyes.
Before they begin, he collects the gifts - very clearly some manner of paintings that he wrapped in red silk.
"A-Yao," he says softly, "I wanted to give these to you sooner, but after what happened last month, I … needed to make some adjustments."
With the other Xichen's memories, he actually had a better idea of what Meng Shi had looked like. Not too different from the Guanyin statue he had based her portrait on, but nonetheless, the woman in the painting now looked much more human and approachable and motherly, and far less unfathomably divine.
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"She would have loved you." His voice is understandably a bit hoarse, and his dark eyes are shining with unshed tears when he looks up at Lan Xichen again. But his smile is warm and earnest, and when he laughs a little, the beads in his hair ornament clink together softly; he hasn't garbed himself in the opulence that characterized his brother's wedding to Jiang Yanli, but a simple jade hair pin that reminded him of his mother seemed appropriate.
He slips his hand into Lan Xichen's and laces their fingers together. "Thank you, Er-ge," he says, then leans up onto his toes to press a fond kiss to the corner of his mouth. (He keeps it brief, and chaste; they do have a ceremony to complete, after all.) As he draws back, he says, "I have something for you as well," and lifts his free hand to discreetly dab at the corners of his eyes. No crying allowed on his wedding day! Not yet anyway.
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"I would have loved her too," he says with certainty. The other him had adored his mother-in-law-to-be, after all, and he doubts he would be much different. But they cannot have the reality where she is alive and well, and so they must make do with what they have. But he still wishes for that - to be able to meet Meng Shi. And for Jin Guangyao to meet Lan Xichen's mother as well.
(He wonders, a little, at what she would have made of him. He wishes his memories of her were more clear that he could even hazard a guess.)
Xichen's eyes fall to their linked hands and he holds his husband's knuckles to his lips in a lingering kiss. He doesn't say he wishes things could have been different - A-Yao knows. He knows (almost) everything now.
"A-Yao needn't have gone through the trouble."
His voice is full of warmth, gratitude, and fondness as he kisses the tears from those long lashes and gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.
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"A-Yao needn't have gone through the trouble."
"Of course I did." He gives another little watery laugh as Lan Xichen places those kisses upon his cheeks and closed eyes, and curls his fingers into the rich red fabric of his sleeves--matching hues of deep scarlet, for luck and good fortune and prosperity. The likelihood that they will ever have children of their own to pass these robes down to is so remote as to have made acquiring them almost too extravagant for Jin Guangyao to conscience... but he can't deny the symbolism and ceremony of them, and of sharing them with Lan Xichen now, is a balm for the part of his heart that never healed after his marriage to Qin Su. In a better world than their jianghu, for kinder reasons, this is what they all should have enjoyed. He will enjoy it without guilt now.
He turns his face to kiss the corner of his mouth once more, cheeks dimpling with his smile, then keeps hold of Lan Xichen's hand and leads him through the courtyard towards the family shrine. This is where they would have needed to end up anyway, to pour the ceremonial tea and perform their bows before heaven, earth, and Meng Shi's memorial plaque. The incense is already in place, waiting to be lit--and upon a separate little altar, adjacent to Meng Shi's and Jin Rusong's but just far enough apart to be distinct from them, rests another memorial plaque. (There is space enough for a second to join it.)
"I know," Jin Guangyao is quick to say, voice gentle, and curls his fingers into the crook of Lan Xichen's elbow, "that you will want to make one for her yourself." He lowers his lashes as he looks down. "This one knows his calligraphy can never compare to Zewu-jun's. But," he continues after a pause, "I thought that, just for today, Er-ge might wish to make his bows before Lan-furen too."
A beat, and some hesitation, before he admits carefully, "I made one for Qingheng-jun as well, but I did not wish to presume. Not more than I already have." Uncertainly, he looks up to meet Lan Xichen's eyes again, hoping that this was not a terrible misstep.
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To see his mother's name on a memorial plaque hits Lan Xichen square in the heart. It is not lost on him that their wedding gifts to one another are souvenirs of death; names and faces long since passed and that they were never permitted to fully grieve.
It felt like it marked a turning point for both of them. That they could have one another as equals, and that they could begin to drain the infected open wounds of their pasts, and finally, finally begin to mend.
They would make their bows to heaven and earth and those they wished could be there in person to witness this union, to see their sons finding happiness and security in one another.
He takes Jin Guangyao's hands in his own, pressing kisses to each knuckle, lips lingering on the hand Wangji had cut off just to feel its warmth as life coursed through his beloved.
"Lianfang-zun's calligraphy has always been beautiful," he says in earnest. "This Zewu-jun will treasure it always. Thank you."
His father is and always would be a... fraught topic, but Xichen's gentle smile and warm gaze hopefully indicates it was far from the wrong move. Perhaps here, funnily enough, their lives wouldn't be plagued with death and terror.
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Jin Guangyao's expression relaxes with noticeable relief into a smile as his gifts are accepted in earnest. He squeezes Lan Xichen's hand, then lifts it so that he can kiss the centre of his palm. "Zewu-jun does not need to flatter me," he replies with a teasing sparkle in his eyes now. "I am already wooed."
He lets go of Lan Xichen's hand after squeezing it once more, then reaches past him for a lit candle, which he then uses to light the incense stick placed before Lan-furen's memorial tablet. The incense before Meng Shi's remains unlit, and in silence Jin Guangyao offers the candle to Lan Xichen, meeting his eyes above the flame. He doesn't speak, but the offer is clear enough.
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Because Xichen could sit and watch Jin Guangyao write for hours. On those nights when they had been drafting plans for the watchtowers, he had done exactly that. Jin Guangyao's calligraphy had always been much like the man who wrote it - elegant and efficient.
He takes the candle, catching Jin Guangyao's eyes. He wasn't sure how the man's eyelashes hadn't been the death of him, but here they are.
He lights the incense in front of Meng Shi's plaque, before setting the candle aside and taking Jin Guangyao's hand once more.
They make their bows.
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When Jin Guangyao slowly rises back into a sitting position from that final kowtow and looks across at Lan Xichen, his eyes are wide and rimmed with a bit of wetness. He looks for all the world as though he's waiting for... something, to happen. For the other shoe to drop, for the rug to be ripped out from beneath them, for even a flicker of regret to pass across Lan Xichen's face. But there's nothing. Just the quiet sound of the wind chimes in the courtyard, the muted sounds of the city beyond the siheyuan walls, and their own breathing.
He cracks a little smile, then reaches out to rest his palm against Lan Xichen's cheek. "Husband," he says softly, affirming it for himself by speaking it aloud.
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(He remembers the stink of smoke and bodies as the Cloud Recesses burned, that his chance encounter with A-Yao had come on the heel of mutual tragedy, and pursued by Wen Soldiers. It seemed the world had deemed that they could not have any joy that didn't begin or end in sorrow.
Xichen would take the joy then, and endure whatever sorrow was to come. Jin Guangyao is worth it.)
His own impulse is to pull his husband into a crushing kiss, to lift him up and carry him back to Jin Guangyao's quarters and hold him and kiss him until the heat death of the universe.
But they aren't quite done here.
"Husband," he affirms, eyes crinkling at the corner as he swipes a thumb over Jin Guangyao's lip, before reaching back to unfasten the crimson and gold head ribbon.
He joins their hands, carefully winding the red silk around their wrists so that they are properly joined.
"Uncle would throw a fit if I did not do this properly."
Well, Lan Qiren would probably throw a fit about something happening in this room at least.
cw for cavity-inducing sweetness, u have been warned
stay pressed lan xiansheng)Jin Guangyao holds his hand still as Lan Xichen wraps the red silk ribbon around their wrists, aware intellectually that this is not the first time that he has handled this sacred symbol of Gusu Lan restraint, but now--now--to do so is his right. As family. He brushes his thumb across the red fabric with an indescribable softness in his eyes, lips parted as though he wants to speak, but can't come up with the right words. Well, when in doubt, it never hurts to use someone else's words instead. That's what poetry is good for, isn't it?
"你儂我儂 忒煞情多
情多處 熱似火
把一塊泥 捻一個你 塑一個我
將咱兩個 一齊打破 用水調和
再捻一個你 再塑一個我
我泥中有你 你泥中有我
我與你 生同一個衾
死同一個槨"
He's always been good at poetry recitation; an eidetic memory means he won't forget the words, and can instead embellish the delivery as he pleases. This time there's little flourish in poet Guan Daosheng's simple words; they speak for themselves, and once he's finished, Jin Guangyao bows his head to press a kiss to Lan Xichen's fingers.
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And now they could have that.
Seeing his beloved leave little kisses along the knuckles of his long and dexterous fingers really hammers home that simple truth.
After so long, they're finally, finally free.
Lan Xichen cannot stop smiling as he presses a kiss on the crown of A-Yao's head.
"It was always you, A-Yao. It could never be anyone else."
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"I know," he says instead when he straightens up from his bow. "I always knew, Er-ge." He frames Lan Xichen's face and studies his warm brown eyes, then draws him near enough to kiss his mouth with tenderness--and growing heat, though he pulls away before either of them can get too carried away. There will be time enough for all the many, many benefits that accompany marriage.
"We should prepare for our guests," he reminds Lan Xichen, smiling wryly, and slides his fingers along his husband's collar--his husband--to smooth out the layers of red and golden silk.
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But that kiss is everything, it means everything and still not enough. Despite the chill of his coldblood, Lan Xichen's eyes are alight with heated passion and he has to steal one more, just one more, tender and sweet and not quite chaste (not with the way he drags his teeth over A-Yao's bottom lip), a promise of what they can have later.
Because that exists too - a later, something to look forward to.
What should have always been theirs now very much is.
Reception Inception (February 14th, Closed to JGY and LXC's close CR)
Formal attire is neither required nor encouraged.
The Siheyuan is very tidy. It's always been very tidy; both occupants are particular about cleanliness, but right now, it is guest ready tidy. Furniture has been rearranged so that there's room for anyone and everyone to make themselves comfortable by the firepit. Flower arrangements (gold peonies and gentians) have been tastefully set out around the space. The floors are clean enough to eat off of (fortunately there are still tables, but, you know. If you wanted to.). Not so much as a spec of dust dares to make an appearance, lest Jin Guangyao incinerate it with a glare.
It is a rather modest reception, but they prefer things to be understated.
They did, however, splurge a bit on food and ordered a gorgeous spread from a set of caterers - most of it is traditional, a mix of vegan-friendly dishes, and spicier fare that is very much the favoured foods of a young boy growing Yunping City. There is some more modern treats as well: Xichen in particular insisted on the cinnamon buns and chocolate fountain (it is Jin Guangyao who may be notorious for deploying weapons-grade puppy eyes, but Xichen is no slouch in that department either, especially given how he has the element of surprise).
So yes. There is a chocolate fountain. Xichen consistently surveys it like a proud parent because this sort of tomfoolery would never be tolerated at a proper Gusulan wedding. His Little Jewel is singing. Lan Xichen is living.
...Alas, a formal apology to people's ribs may be in order, as everyone who walks through that door will eventually have to contend with a hug from Xichen. Why yes, this man could benchpress a boulder for funsies, why do you ask? (Look, between the small sip of wine he had when he and Jin Guangyao took their bows, and the Coldblood effects of February, the emotions are hitting him hard.) Jin Guangyao is more reserved, of course, but no less warm in his greetings, peppering in compliments.
The happy couple putter about, making sure their guests are fed and enjoying themselves. It is, for the first time in many, many years, a good day for them.
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Because that's what under the wrapping paper. An actual moonlight-powered roomba, guaranteed to work on carpets and hardwood floors without scratching. "Congratulations to you both," Shen Yuan finishes with an embarrassed little laugh.
Speed Dater (Open)
He's also wearing a nametag that reads 'Hello! My name is Lan Xichen / Lan Huan / Zewu-jun
"Er…" comes his rather befuddled greeting.
There is a pair of synchronous chimes from both his and the stranger's omnis, leaving them the rules of engagement, a set of randomized questions, and a gaudy little blurb about the individual. Lan Xichen's own reads as follows:
Congratulations, you have met the exception to the rule of "Yes, all men". Unfortunately this absolute specimen is blissfully married to a man he's been simping after for 20 years. Fortunately, he is also desperately lacking in the friends department and would like to make some. This gentle giant enjoys painting, music, history, and debates of situational morality. Highly likely that he was genetically engineered in a lab to be the perfect older brother figure.
( Lan Xichen | 39 | M | Cutsleeve)
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Ah, just as Shen Yuan suspected from the very beginning, Lan Xichen is here after all. He fires off a quick private message to that effect to Jin Guangyao before sitting across from Lan Xichen with a cheerful smile. Clearly he hasn't seen his own profile yet, because if he had -- oh boy. Forget avoiding Lan Xichen, nobody in Trench would ever see Shen Yuan again.
"Lan-gongzi." He sits across from Lan Xichen, playfully raising an eyebrow. "Having a good time?"
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"It's a pleasant enough banquet, though had I known this was on the itinerary, I'd have made myself presentable."
Lan Xichen is the kind of man who could look presentable in a burlap sack. With his hair tied up and in the light, linen robe and trousers he wears for cleaning days, he just looks pleasingly disheveled.
"I confess, however, this manner of parlour game - speed dating they call it - is... unknown to me."
He casts a surreptitious look around the room, before leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially to Shen Yuan.
"I fear it may be some manner of match-making game."
So scandalous!
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"I'm afraid it is," he says with an amused little grin, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "But Lan-gongzi needn't take it too seriously. I was told when I came in that forming platonic friendships at this event is also encouraged."
With how lovely Lan Xichen is on multiple levels, Shen Yuan is sure he'd be terribly popular, if he just relaxes enough to let people close.
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"Well, I have been looking to make friends," he admits, a touch bashful. "Would you mind terribly if we share a few practice rounds? I still struggle somewhat with how informal things are here, and I would be loathe to break etiquette."
He chances a glance down at his omni, scanning Shen Yuan's profile. There's only a brief, worried flicker of his brow when he sees that one line, but opts not to mention it. He doesn't want his friend to feel put on the spot, after all.
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For his own part, he's nothing but delighted and charmed by Lan Xichen's profile, when he checks it on his own omni. Lan-gongzi really is a human cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure. Shen Yuan needs to hurry up and just get over his jealousy, already! It's clear that he and Jin Guangyao are a good match; who is Shen Yuan to think he could do any better than someone like this?
"I'll ask the first question," he declares, navigating to the appropriate screen. "What's -- oh." His expression falters for a moment, while he hesitates over the question before biting his lower lip and apologetically asking Lan Xichen, "What's the first thing you think of before you go to sleep at night?"
March Prompts