deercountry | cultivator tea time (closed to Lan Xichen and He Xuan)

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cultivator tea time (closed to Lan Xichen and He Xuan)

Who: Jin Guangyao, Lan Xichen, and He Xuan
What: just a pleasant morning taking tea with a friendly new acquaintance!
When: early-ish in March
Where: Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen's home in the Willful Machine
Notes: beware the encroaching calamitous plant growth 👀

Content Warnings: Nothing yet, will update this as needed.

Maybe a week and change after Jin Guangyao's text exchange with He Xuan on the network, the afternoon of the predetermined visit arrives. In anticipation of their guest's arrival (and to avoid making a terrible first impression as a host), Jin Guangyao has altered the wards around the siheyuan such that He Xuan should be able to pass through the gate without difficulty. It's a calculated risk, of course; if it turns out that he has terribly misjudged He Xuan's character, then he and Lan Xichen will be at quite the disadvantage. But he does not believe that he has, and a lifetime of experience has taught him that it is always best to remain in the good graces of powerful men. Hence the invitation to tea.

And while he perhaps should have approached this matter in a less circumspect and convoluted way, he did at least discuss and provide an outline of his plans with Lan Xichen well in advance. Sharing the details of his first brief encounter with He Xuan in January had been a jarring discussion, but they seemed aligned in their approach: be polite and courteous. Have a pleasant conversation. ...That's it, that's the plan.

..Or at least, that was the plan the night before He Xuan's arrival. The morning of, however, when Jin Guangyao steps out of the parlour and into the courtyard and its, uh, verdant abundance, crowding the edges of the courtyard on all sides, he startles so abruptly that he nearly drops the tea tray he's carrying. Because what the fuck?--oh, right, Shen Yuan had mentioned something about this the other day, hadn't he?

"Er-ge," he calls back into the parlour over his shoulder, "come look at this." He looks down in time to spot the end of a kudzu vine creeping across the front step, and nudges it away with his boot.

There is still a clear path to the siheyuan's front gate, and none of the abundant plant growth appears particularly hostile (yet)... but there sure is an awful lot of it.

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Shen Yuan had certainly mentioned this, but it doesn't stop that overwhelming surprise at seeing the courtyard transformed into a lush garden. Just the other night it had been damp flagstones and piles of dirty, melting snow with only the beginnings of shoots poking out of the cold soil.

"This is... different."

Understatement of the year, Xichen.

He bends down to pick up the creeping kudzu, guiding it to one of the pillars which it promptly coils around like a contented serpent.

"When I suggested we add some foliage, this is not quite what I had in mind. Perhaps we should relocate for tea until we've figured out if these are safe or..."

He peers curiously at some pitcher plants. Truly astounding!

"...the usual fair when it comes to Trench's surprises."

He Xuan has noticed a little more plant life than usual, but he took a lamp to get close to the location the cultivator Jin Guangyao had given him, having done his best to explore the major areas of the city early in his arrival. So it isn't until he gets close that he starts to notice the particular abundance — even from the outside their little home together has been invaded by kudzu and who knows what other plants. He Xuan is no botanist, and he does not trust lightly, so even though he too read Shen Yuan's warning he is uncertain if this is a result of Jin-xiansheng and his husband making some ominous plans, and he is on his guard.

Out of politeness and to defer to how he first appeared during the organ-expulsion mishap, he appears human today, his yellow eyes a more natural gold, his hair long and bound upwards, his skin pale but not undead - and his robes still black as the deep ocean. No sword, because what use has he for a sword? So that is who they see arriving at the siheyuan's front gate, through the lowered wards without so much as a flinch.

The pitcher plant that Lan Xichen bows his head to inspect with such endearing and earnest curiosity is a nepenthes variety that should not, in point of fact, produce such generously proportioned pitchers. Jin Guangyao only knows this because he read about it once entirely by accident in the library, and now it's stuck in his memory forever. He frowns, dismayed, and starts to reach out for Lan Xichen's sleeve to gently coax the light of his life away from the carnivorous flora, only to look up quickly when the senses movement in his peripheral vision. He Xuan has arrived.

The hospitality protocol thusly activated in his brain, Jin Guangyao smiles with precise diplomatic warmth and dips his head in greeting from where he stands. (Rounding his arms in a bow would upset the tea tray he carries.) "He-xiansheng," he says in greeting and then looks to Lan Xichen again, unable to disguise his worry as he contemplates the nepenthes plant again. He looks back to He Xuan again, brows knitting together in a frown. "Please accept this one's sincere apologies. Yesterday evening the only flowering plants in our garden were humble little crocuses, but as you can see--" a brief gesture about the courtyard with one hand and a bit of nervous laughter, "--it seems that we are now under siege by spring. Zewu-jun has suggested that we take tea indoors instead, out of an abundance of caution. Would this be agreeable to you?"

Lan Xichen is drawn back just in time. It's not the pitcher plant that tries to take a bite out of him, but rather an overgrown venus fly trap that had been slithering through the undergrowth, its verdant jaws snapping down on empty air where Xichen's hand had been only a moment ago, prodding the strange and alien blooms.

Well, it looked like a trip to the butcher's was in order. Hopefully they'd be satisfied with mutton long enough for Xichen to dig them up, pot them, and transport them to a collector who'd like them. Surely there were a few in the city; botanists, after all, tended to lean on the eccentric side enough to enjoy the kind of plants that would gnaw one's arm off. Right? ...Right. Maybe Shen-gongzi would be on familiar terms with one or two; he seemed the type.

He exhales deeply and stands straight once the fly trap slinks grudgingly back into the undergrowth.

"This one will need A-Yao to watch his back when we deal with..." he gestures to the garden, "...this. I'm not keen on anyone losing any appendages to aggressive flora."

His exasperation at Trench's latest curiosity invading their home promptly fades as their guest walks through the gate, and he stands at his husband's side, a warm and welcoming smile on his face as he bows in welcome.

"He-xiansheng," he greets, "I believe we spoke briefly over the network last month? It is good to meet you in person."

Edited 2023-03-04 20:36 (UTC)

He Xuan considers these cultivators and gives his own bow, lazy but with more respect than he really feels, acknowledging his status as a guest.

"The musician," he guesses upon considering Jin Guangyao's husband; he hadn't had that many conversations on the network in his first month, still getting used to it, and even less were cultivators.

Something slithers through the kudzu towards his feet — without looking, He Xuan takes a deft step left and stamps it underfoot with a wet celeriac crunch, pressing just a little spiritual energy into the limb to make sure it's strong enough to take care of the erstwhile vegetation. His expression doesn't flicker.

"Inside," he agrees, "Would be acceptable."

The incisive stare that Jin Guangyao directs after the retreating flytrap behind Lan Xichen's back is blink-and-you'll-miss-it fast, but it's there, and it's as good as a signed death warrant. Fuck that one plant in particular, the stare says, the rest of them may get potted up and shipped off to a well-intentioned botanist, but that one is going to die. He'll just have to take care of it while his Er-ge is distracted.

He is all agreeable smiles when he looks back to Lan Xichen and He Xuan again, however. "Wonderful," he says, "please come inside and make yourself comfortable."

Their parlour is comfortable and modest, with most of its furniture and appliances having been inherited from whoever the previous occupant of the house was. It's scrupulously neat but nevertheless still bears all the hallmarks of a space that is lived in: an open book of sudoku puzzles on the chaise lounge; a calendar on one wall with plenty of scheduling notes written in the margins; a small collection of recent wedding gifts neatly arranged on a side table that still need to be sorted and put away; curled up on a cushion positioned to receive plenty of morning sunlight is Jin Guangyao's steppe fox omen, who lifts her head when they all come inside, then drops her chin back down onto her paws to resume sleeping. It's a comfortable space, in other words, without any indication that the residents were planning for any eventuality other than to have tea.

Jin Guangyao carries the tray over to the low table and sets it down with graceful efficiency, then detours over to one of the windows to quickly dispatch another encroaching kudzu vine that found its way beneath the frame. "Perhaps I should re-seal the baseboards." And apply more caulk in the bathroom.

Xichen only catches a brief glimpse at the look he shoots the fly trap and he becomes aware of two very separate things at once. First, if he wants to spare the poor plant some grizzly fate, he'll have to act quickly when A-Yao isn't looking. And second... well, not that he's going to encourage it, but his husband looks good when he's contemplating homicide. ...Or floracide in this case.

Either way, his cheeks are tinged a fetching shade of Coldblood blue as they escort He Xuan inside. Lan Xichen hastily clears a few ink sketches that had been left to dry on the table overnight, and piles them on a shelf to be taken care of later.

"The musician, yes," he affirms with a warm smile. "When we spoke, He-xiansheng mentioned moving past mortal cultivation. Does that mean he was a mortal cultivator once before?"

When he spots A-Yao shooing a rather nosy bit of kudzu from the window, he does a brief scan of the room to make sure no other plants are trying to sneak their way into the house. Fortunately, he cannot find any, and so he busies himself with getting the seating cushions out the closet and arranging them so He Xuan can make himself comfortable.

Edited 2023-03-06 04:52 (UTC)

"I never actually cultivated," He Xuan says honestly, since that sort of self-discipline truly hadn't interested him, and he wasn't born into a sect.

When he takes a seat it's all at once, just lowering himself completely to the cushion with his legs folded somewhere deep in the dark pool of his robes, his spine straight and chin lifted regally, for all the world like a great dark bird waiting to take flight again. He seems composed, even weaponless and in someone else's home. "Is that what you invited me here to discuss?"

(Let's be real, the only reason the kudzu vine survives its encounter with Jin Guangyao in this moment is because he knows Lan Xichen is watching.)

Out the vine is ushered through the window before it is snapped shut securely, and then Jin Guangyao sketches a precise forbiddance array along the edges. All of the spiritual power he pours into it is demonstrably facing outwards rather than in, and he hopes their guest interprets this as the courteous gesture of good faith that he intends it to be. Their little home is as inured against the evil and resentful energies of Trench as two cultivators can possibly render it, but they have nevertheless taken pains to ensure that He Xuan--whoever he may be, whatever he may be--is warmly received here today. (Which means, for now and out of necessity, there are now a few cracks in the armour protecting their home. Jin Guangyao is only attempting to shore the weak spots up as he notices them.)

"I never actually cultivated," He Xuan says, which earns him a curious glance from Jin Guangyao as he returns to the table from the window. He seats himself neatly at Lan Xichen's side as He Xuan asks, "Is that what you invited me here to discuss?"

"Yes." Jin Guangyao's mien remains mild and gentle as he masters the low-grade fear that is his constant companion. He reaches out to collect the tea pot and smoothly fills He Xuan's cup first, and meets his eyes briefly while passing it to him. "This one spoke with Zewu-jun--" a gesture to Lan Xichen (along with a look of lingering fondness that just can't be helped) before he returns his attention to He Xuan again, "about our first meeting last month, and what small amount of assistance this one was able to provide."

He pours Lan Xichen's tea for him next and sets the cup in front of him. "My golden core is weak," he says, tone matter-of-fact without being blunt or self-pitying, "but in our world, Zewu-jun is a cultivator without equal. Given Trench seems to feed upon the--" no, he can't say resentful energy, so he fishes about a moment, and settles on, "--vulnerabilities of those who arrive here, it was my hope that my honoured husband might be able to offer He-xiansheng his help, if you would find that agreeable." He pours his own tea cup last, raises it to his lips, and drinks from it.

After a quick peek at all the windows to make sure no more plant life is trying to creep inside and ruin their gathering and collecting the artfully arranged tray of treats he picked up at the bakery for this occasion, Lan Xichen is the last to be seated.

He meets his husbands gaze and beams, warm and bright like a little ray of sunshine, before turning his gentle smile on He Xuan.

"Lianfang-zun -" he says his husband's title like it's the sappiest of endearments, please forgive him He Xuan he's still riding high on the fact they get a scrap of happiness here, "- is right. This one would be willing to help in any way I can. Though I'm not immune to Trench's effects, my cultivation helps me manage them effectively, as well as being to help others with such issues."

(This is nice, he thinks to himself. Not Trench's tendency to drive people into a state of madness, that is decidedly the opposite of nice. But this - the normalcy of it all. Comfortable in a sitting room, being able to socialize without the weight of Sect Leadership, to not have that wall between himself and others - it feels like the shackles have finally fallen away. That he can simply be.)

Oh, these cultivators are gay gay. Not that He Xuan even blinks at these warm displays of domesticity and affection between two men. He's had Hua Cheng simping in the communication array group chat for just about all of his long life, call him when you carve a thousand statues in the likeness of a guy you haven't even kissed.

Anyway, he has a fast mind and a fairly good grasp of the new rules of this world, so it clicks almost immediately that whatever Jin Guangyao sensed in his spiritual energy, he has politely assumed it is blood corruption. And in fairness, having given the Chocolatier unwitting cupfuls of blood on his first day here, he likely was a little corrupted when they met. After all, hadn't he been expelling organs? Some ghosts might enjoy that as a clever trick to scare mortals, but when it's uncontrollable, that's a problem.

He Xuan lets out a small exhale, gaze lifting heavenward briefly. This is troublesome more than it is amusing — Jin Guangyao claims humble weakness, but Lan Xichen seems stronger. Hopefully he wasn't lying about not killing sentient creatures before they'd even done anything wrong.

"And what makes these honoured cultivators think this impure one has a need of their assistance?" he asks, a little frosty and therefore suddenly polite. "My blood corruption levels are currently negligible." And he has a preternatural and holistic grasp on his own energy.

"My blood corruption levels are currently negligible."

Jin Guangyao blinks. 'Negligible' would not be how he would choose to describe the yawning chasm of resentful energy that he'd sensed while sharing qi with He Xuan. He puts a pin in that thought for the moment and opts to allow his confusion to show more plainly on his features.

"Perhaps this one assumed assumed, wrongly, that you did." Sometimes the simplest and most straight-forward answer is the most effective one--and it has the added benefit of being the truth. (More or less.)

Jin Guangyao glances once more towards Lan Xichen, secure both in his husband's beneficent intentions here (as well as his sword arm, should it come to that--but he would prefer that it didn't). "He-xiansheng," he says when he looks back to the strange man seated across from them, "please permit me to apologize if I have caused you offence. Other than blood corruption, I cannot account for the intense resentful energy I sensed within you."

Subtly, he curls his fingers around his teacup to keep them still; he masks it well, but he is afraid. (He Xuan, he reminds himself, is demonstrably not Nie Mingjue.)

Lan Xichen shoots A-Yao a puzzled look, but it only lasts a moment.

(Under the table his hand slides over to cover his husband's knee and give it a small, reassuring squeeze.)

"When we spoke over the omni, He-xiansheng mentioned something about resentful blood," he says slowly, trying to diffuse the building tension. Jin Guangyao has just stumbled into a social faux pas and He Xuan looks like his guard is up - it's time for Xichen to put his talents as an eldest sibling to good use and play peacemaker.

"Is it possible that you may have a higher threshold than others to such things?"

He Xuan looks at them both: an admirable team, each of them shoring up the other's weaknesses, one's nerves bolstered by the other's passive calm.

"You have not offended me," he says, dropping the fake-ass over the top courtesy language in favour of being straight-forward, his usual preference. He appreciates that Jin Guangyao has been direct. "I doubt either of you could offend me, short of raising weapons against me." A thin, unpracticed smile, though this is not a joke. "Lan-xiangsheng made it clear in that discussion that he would not kill a sentient Sleeper except as a last resort, and I have since learned such deaths are unlikely to be permanent." Meaning he could just come back for revenge, his favourite dish.

But he's still talking around the main answer, the thing that will both resolve their confusion and put their word to the test. "As I have already explained to two of your fellow cultivators here: this one tragically passed away some centuries ago, and continues now as a ghost. I am the demon lord Black Water Submerging Boats. But He-xiansheng is still fine, as I hope this will not cause any difficulties between us."

(Discreetly, Jin Guangyao settles his hand overtop Lan Xichen's beneath the table and laces their fingers together.)

"...I hope this will not cause any difficulties between us."

Some of the tension goes out of his shoulders alongside a barely noticeable exhalation past his nose, because that settles it: demon lord of submerging boats beneath the blackest of black waters or no, Jin Guangyao already finds He Xuan to be more agreeable company than Nie Mingjue had been at any point when he was still alive. How different all of their lives might have been if Da-ge had been less inclined to 'cause difficulties' over the odd political murder arranged at his father's direction, and more inclined towards compromise.

"It will not," he is quick to assure their guest, earnest but not obsequious (though Jin Guangyao's reliance upon courtesy language is unfortunately as core to his identity as the vermillion mark he continues to apply between his eyebrows, sorry to say). "Even had Zewu-jun not given his word on the matter, this one has no interest in making enemies out of newcomers to Trench when the city itself is already such a dangerous and unpredictable place."

He takes a brief sip from his teacup, just to steady the nerves which are still shot from his pre-visit anxiety. That lingering strain gives the smile he offers to He Xuan an air of fatigue, but Jin Guangyao's body language broadcasts his relief to anyone savvy enough to pick up on the cues: an easing of his posture, a softening at the corners of his eyes and mouth. "This one is pleased to hear that He-xiansheng has spoken to two of the other cultivators in the city," he goes on. "Enduring Trench is a far easier prospect when done with friends. Who did you speak with?" yeah, he's fishing now, but he can't help his curiosity.

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cultivator tea time (closed to Lan Xichen and He Xuan)

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