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thebiscuiteternal · 3 years

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“A Bird in the Hand” Friendship <3, Mutual Interests (Sorta Not Really), Hidden Identities, Kidnapping, The Ship Is A Huge Spoiler Sorry

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Having decided he was going to lose his mind if he had to listen to the constant chatter about scores and techniques for one more moment, Nie Huaisang quietly slips out of the dining hall and heads out into the early evening air.

Just a little time to himself to clear his head, that’s all he needs. A short walk, and then he’ll go back. If Da-ge gets upset about him wandering off here… well, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

Movement in the bush next to him startles him a little, but not enough for him to miss that the small reddish-pink form darting out of the leaves is flying very oddly.

Wing damage at the very least, he calculates. If he doesn’t intervene, it’s probably going to be a predator’s meal soon.

Concern replaces his earlier exasperation; he changes course from the path he’d been planning to take and begins tracking where it might land next instead.

---

The erratic flight pattern makes his task a little more difficult, but there is still a bit of light left in the sky when he finally snares the wounded and bedraggled puff of feathers -a rosefinch, one he hasn’t ever seen this particular color and pattern of- and very gently deposits it in his lap.

“Shh, you’ll be fine,” he soothes, carefully rubbing the poor thing’s cheek with a fingertip to calm it down before reaching into his sleeve for his usual pouch of supplies. “See? I’m here to help.”

Once the bird is gorging itself -no, himself- on seeds, he begins inspecting and carefully cleaning the injuries. He was right about the wing, plus there are nasty cuts to a leg and another to the neck. Claw marks, most likely. “Poor darling, you must have just escaped a cat,” he coos softly as he takes out thread and thin strips of cloth.

“Interesting.”

Nie Huaisang only just barely manages to avoid jostling his patient when he jumps slightly at the unexpected new voice, then freezes when he turns his head to find a young man wearing red and white robes. “Ah! I’m sorry if I entered a restricted area, I just-”

“It’s fine,” the Wen stranger says with a smile. “You haven’t left the guest territories yet.”

“Oh… good. That’s good.” The rosefinch cheeps in his lap and pecks his hand and he looks down and clicks his tongue as he resumes threading the needle he’s holding. “Demanding now that I’ve been nice enough to feed you, aren’t you?”

“May I observe while you work?”

He doesn’t hear the Wen disciple move at all, so when he looks up and finds the young man standing barely a step away, he has to restrain himself from scooting away on reflex. “Er- I suppose? Most people don’t want to,” he says, watching as his new companion takes a seat on a rock next to him.

Up close, there is something slightly unnerving about him. It's the same feeling he notices when Da-ge is trying to intimidate people around him less, like there's something big and dangerous being forced into a too-small hide.

Nie Huaisang swallows and ducks his head, reaching into the supply pouch to produce more seeds for his patient. He finishes prepping the needle and gently coaxes the rosefinch into a better position, feeling an intense gaze on him all the while as he begins the first neat, tight stitches. The bird makes an unhappy noise of pain, but more seeds and petting keeps him from attempting to escape and he only cheeps grumpily to himself as Nie Huaisang works.

"You're very skilled to make it trust you so easily."

Despite himself, he feels his face heat at the rare compliment. Though Da-ge and their cousin Nie Zonghui often try not to get bored whenever they visit the aviary, the only person who’d ever actually been interested in watching this sort of thing was-

He bites his lip and shoves that thought aside. “It’s a lot of practice in patience, mostly,” he says as he finishes with the leg and turns his attention to the wounds that might need to have feathers clipped for proper treatment. “You have to learn how they work, how to follow them without getting them so stressed they accidentally hurt themselves worse, observing flight patterns, all that.”

“Seems like a lot of effort to put in for someone who so infamously avoids it.”

Nie Huaisang stiffens, then forces himself to calm down.

Stupid. He’s wearing Qinghe colors and this disciple probably just saw him hanging around Da-ge. He’s not hard to identify, and his reputation… well.

Still, the unease lingers, though he tries to shake it off by remaining focused on his task. By now the rosefinch is comfortable enough with him that he’s able to gently remove some damaged and bloody feathers. “I just… I like doing this. That’s all.”

“Understandable. A reward only counts as a reward if you want it.”

It’s gotten dark enough for people in the buildings down the path to begin lighting their lanterns, but he’s well-acquainted with working in such conditions. He finishes the neck and wing injuries quickly, the strange disciple remaining in his spot for the duration.

“There we go, all ready to get better,” he croons sweetly, coaxing the finch to his shoulder, where the bird snuggles into his collar.

An elegant hand reaches into his view. “May I?” the disciple asks.

“If he’ll let you,” Nie Huaisang says, tilting his head to give space. The rosefinch is having none of it, however, and ducks to hide under his hair with a grouchy little squawk, tiny claws pricking at the nape of his neck. “Or not. Sorry about that.”

The other man’s lips curve in amusement as he draws his hand back. “It’s fine. Patience, as you said.”

Nie Huaisang begins packing up his pouch. The unease from before has faded into a more readily ignored feeling, especially since the disciple hasn’t actually done anything to deserve it. “Do you want to walk back to the pavilion? Da-ge won’t be happy if I stay out much longer. He’s probably not happy with me for staying out this long already, actually.”

“I appreciate the offer,” the other man says as he stands and needlessly dusts his clothing. “But I live in a different part of the compound.” Another smile, slow and interested in a way that makes Nie Huaisang’s face grow warm again. “There are still two more days left in the tournament. Perhaps we’ll cross paths another time.”

“Ah- well- shouldn’t I know your name, then? You already know mine.”

The strange disciple bows, smooth and sharp, not even a fold of cloth wrong. “This humble one is simply Han-er. I look forward to our next meeting, Nie-er, gongzi.”

It is only later, after Nie Huaisang has returned to his own room with the rosefinch, that he realizes somewhere the ‘perhaps’ had become a certainty.

---

They do cross paths again, more than once, in fact.

After the second encounter, Nie Huaisang can’t help but notice that Han-er always seems to find him when he’s entirely alone.

A spy, maybe?

Maybe not. He’s been keeping track, and Han-er has never asked him anything particularly pointed about Da-ge or their cousin or anything about them that might be considered ‘vital information’, just the occasional offhand curiosity about their relationship dynamics. Their sects may be on bad terms -very bad terms- but Han-er has been nothing but polite.

By the time of their fourth meeting, he feels guilty for ever having had such suspicious thoughts about the man.

“And how is Minsheng doing this morning?”

“Besides being crushed under the weight of such an auspicious name?” Nie Huaisang asks cheekily, earning another of those amused smiles.

“You cannot deny he has earned it.”

He can’t, really. Once no longer in constant pain, Minsheng has become chatty enough that the finch has received at least one threat of being roasted and eaten. “He’s recovering at a good pace. I worry about taking him home, though. With the differing climate, he’ll be miserable while his feathers are growing back in.”

Han-er inclines his head and looks away. “Why not leave him with me?” he asks after some consideration. “I do not have your experience, true, but our time has been... enlightening. And he likes me well enough, now.”

It’s… not a bad idea, really. If Nie Huaisang changes the bandages again just before he leaves, all that should be left to do surgery-wise would be to remove the stitches, and he’s seen that Han-er has a steady enough hand for that… “I can draw up some notes for you this afternoon and deliver them and Minsheng before the closing ceremony, would that be alright?”

“Perfect.”

---

He doesn’t actually see Han-er again before his sect departs to go home to Qinghe, having been forced to leave Minsheng and his notes with a guard who’d smirked at him in an extremely discomforting way. It brings back the troubled feeling lurking in the back of his head and leaves him unsure whether he’s unhappy to have missed the meeting, or somehow relieved.

When word comes several days later that the Cloud Recesses have been burned, he decides on relief.

---

His stomach churns unhappily in a mix of unsatisfied hunger and nausea as they’re dismissed back to their cells after another day of grueling work and so very little food. Each step feels like he’s trying to slog through knee deep mud, and by the time he makes it to their designated hallway, he’s starting to feel dizzy.

Something… something’s wrong. Had the food been spoiled? But no, no one else seems to be...

“Young master?” asks one of the other Nie disciples.

“I’m fine,” he lies, even as it feels like the floor rolls under him like the deck of a boat.

He falls and doesn’t remember hitting the ground.

When he opens his eyes again, the disorientation persists. Something noisy is going on nearby and whatever he’s lying on, it’s too comfortable to be the paper-thin pallet mattress he’d been subjected to for over a week.

This isn’t his cell… Where…?

What is that noise?

Confused, head swimming, he tries to sit up and finds that his hands have been bound behind his back. Before he can start to panic, gentle hands squeeze his shoulders and assist him in rolling over.

He dimly registers that the sound he’s hearing is the chattering of a bird.

But why would there be a bird-?

A familiar figure leans over him, long fingers sweeping his hair out of his face and down his cheek in an affectionate caress. For the briefest moment, he is grateful to see the face of… perhaps not a friend, but at least someone he knows.

Then ice cold terror seizes his insides when his eyes register the crown on the man’s head.

The Eternal Sun.

“Tell me, little bird,” Wen Ruohan says, smile sharp as a knife’s edge and gaze hungry. “Was I patient enough?”

__________

((Author Note: Okay, so, like, if I’m not remembering wrong, Novel!Ruohan is described as ridiculously young-looking because of his high cultivation. Like, we’re talking 19-ish even though he and Jin Guangshan are the only Great Sect leaders who have at least one fully adult child at the time of the Phoenix Mountain competition. So I thought, what if he leaned in to it? Suckered the other sects by having an older proxy take his place at meetings and conferences so that no one actually knows what he looks like except for some of the Wen Sect’s inner circle?))

#mdzs #nie huaisang #and a secret friend!#fanfic

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enbyleighlines · 4 years

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Do you still take modern wangxian prompts? If you do, would you be able to do a floral shop wangxian? (Maybe wwx fked up and had to make up with flowers or vice versa? :P) thanks so much! And merry Christmas!!!

Merry Christmas, anonymous! Even if it’s, like, no longer Christmas...

I hope you still enjoy this drabble, though!

(And yes! I am always accepting prompts for my mdzs modern au! You can read the entire collection along with some extra context notes at ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909901/chapters/52296226)

—

Wei Wuxian learns something new every day. Today, he learned that the phrase “a broken heart” is not exaggerated. His heart feels like it’s broken, like his entire chest cavity is criss-crossed with multiple painful, gaping wounds.

He and Lan Wangji just had their first fight. Wei Wuxian sits on the stairs outside the apartment, clutching the skin over his broken heart. Putting pressure on it doesn’t ease the ache at all.

The worst thing is that Wei Wuxian can still see Lan Wangji’s face ever time he closes his eyes.

He had meant it as a joke. In retrospect, it was never very funny. But Wei Wuxian hadn’t meant to hurt his Lan Wangji, his boyfriend, his best friend, his love.

Wei Wuxian had apologized, but the damage was done.

The world feels darker. Wei Wuxian knows Lan Wangji just needs time. Their bond is too strong to break under a single poorly-worded joke. But at the moment, this knowledge does nothing to soothe Wei Wuxian’s turbulent mind.

At least A-Yuan is spending the day with Granny Wen. Wei Wuxian would hate to have the toddler witness him like this, so witless and depressed.

Or worse, to have A-Yuan see Lan Wangji cry... Wei Wuxian has never known a more heart-wrenching sight.

Wei Wuxian hangs his head between his knees, trying not to remember the way Lan Wangji’s cheeks glistened in thin streaks down from his eyes, his lashes dotted with dew-like water droplets.

Lan Wangji is so handsome, even when he’s sad. It’s kind of unfair.

It was just a stupid slip of the tongue. A side effect of consuming so much fatalistic humor. Still, Wei Wuxian should have known better. He knows better than anyone how sensitive Lan Wangji is.

Hadn’t Lan Xichen warned him? “Take care of my Didi,” he had said, “He feels things more strongly than other people.”

And Lan Wangji does. Oh, he feels things so strongly.

It’s one of the things Wei Wuxian loves best about him. Lan Wangji is sensitive, and righteous, and so, so good. Wei Wuxian treasures Lan Wangji, because the man IS a treasure. Hidden underneath Lan Wangji’s outward taciturn demeanor is a heart that cares too much, that loves without restraint.

Wei Wuxian wants to be worthy of that love.

No. Wei Wuxian must become worthy of that love.

With his new mission in mind, Wei Wuxian uncurls from his fetal pose on the staircase. He takes out his phone and starts googling.

—

Twenty minutes later, Wei Wuxian is officially lost. He pauses at an intersection he’s already passed twice before, and rechecks his phone app. How has he still not found the flower shop? It’s supposed to be less than a minute away!

Wei Wuxian sighs heavily, and seeks help at a nearby convenience store.

Thankfully, the cashier isn’t a complete idiot, unlike him, so she’s able to give Wei Wuxian directions.

He ends up going down a side corner he hadn’t noticed before, and voila! There was the Phoenix Flower Shop, exactly where his app said it should be.

Wei Wuxian shuts off the app and shoves the phone into his pocket. He’s trying not to lose his temper, but he’s having a really bad day. Granted, he’s mostly mad at himself, but still. He can’t be just stomping around and ruining everyone else’s day.

The smell of flowers sucker-punches Wei Wuxian right in the nose as he enters. Ordinarily, he loves floral fragrances, but right now, it’s a tad overwhelming.

A young woman in an apron trots merrily over to him. “Good afternoon,” she says, “May I help you find something?”

Wei Wuxian nods. He doesn’t know anything about the language of flowers, but he suspects that Lan Wangji might. “I’m hoping to create some sort of apology bouquet,” he explains, “Which flowers mean ‘I’m sorry’?”

The flower shop employee gives Wei Wuxian a sad smile. “Gotten into a fight with your girlfriend, have we?”

“Uh, boyfriend,” Wei Wuxian corrects. He vaguely wonders if he should have just let her believe he was in a heterosexual relationship. He and Lan Wangji haven’t yet discussed to what extent they want to be “out” to people. Since this is Wei Wuxian’s first time dating a guy, he’s been trying to err on the side of caution.

Luckily, the young woman doesn’t make a big deal out of it. “Oh, okay,” she says, “Well, I would go with yellow flowers, either tulips, roses, or chrysanthemums. Tulips represent new beginnings and hope, yellow roses can represent both friendship and regret, and the chrysanthemum is a symbol of longevity. But if you prefer to avoid the color yellow, you can always go with the plum blossom. It can symbolize a refusal to give up on love.”

Wei Wuxian listens, his mind swimming with all his options. He hadn’t realized that there were so many choices! Which one would Lan Wangji like?

The woman seems to notice his stress, because she stops listing new flowers. “A dozen yellow tulips seem to be our most frequently bought apology bouquet,” she informs him, “We can even tie it with some ribbon that says ‘I’m sorry’ on it.”

Wei Wuxian relaxes. “Okay,” he says, “That sounds good.”

She nods, and waves for him to follow her. She leads him down an aisle made entirely of flowers, which is barely wide enough to fit two people. They have to occasionally duck around other customers.

At the end of the aisle, they come upon the tulip section... and a familiar face.

“Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji’s head whips up to stare blankly at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian immediately notices two things: Lan Wangji’s eyes are still a little red and puffy, and he has a bundle of flowers in his arms.

Yellow tulips, to be exact.

The store employee looks from one man to the other. “Do you two... know each other?”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth. No sound comes out.

Lan Wangji steps forward, and pushes the flowers he’s holding into Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Yes,” he answers, without tearing his eyes off of Wei Wuxian, “Wei Ying is my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend, huh? So they are being public about it...

Wei Wuxian smiles, but his heart throbs uncomfortably from within his throat. He doesn’t know where to even start. It’s funny, isn’t it? Bumping into Lan Wangji, who is buying his own apology bouquet?

But what is Lan Wangji sorry for?

“I’ll leave you two be, then,” the young woman says, and quickly scampers off faster than anyone should move in such a cramped space.

Silence fills the space between them.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji questions, “Say something?”

And so Wei Wuxian does.

“I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian says, reaching out and grabbing the end of Lan Wangji’s sleeve with his free hand, “I’m so sorry—“

“I’m sorry, too,” Lan Wangji replies.

“For what?” Wei Wuxian can’t help but laugh. “I’m the one who— who made that stupid joke.”

“I overreacted?” Lan Wangji says, confusion evident in his tone.

“You didn’t overreact!” Wei Wuxian tugs his boyfriend closer, so he can minimize the emptiness between them. “Lan Zhan, I said something that hurt you.”

“You were joking...”

“That doesn’t matter!” Wei Wuxian wants to crash their mouths together, he loves this man too much for his own good, but he needs to make Lan Wangji understand. “It was a bad joke! It was in poor taste, and I realized it as soon as I said it!”

Lan Wangji’s eyes are watery again. His lip trembles, just slightly, just enough to break Wei Wuxian’s heart all over again. “I just...” he chokes, unable to continue.

“I know,” Wei Wuxian says. Because he does. He knows that he accidentally touched something sensitive, something that reopened old wounds. “Lan Zhan, oh Lan Zhan. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

Lan Wangji puts his hand on the small of Wei Wuxian’s back.

(In the back of his mind, Wei Wuxian registers that Lan Wangji’s palm is touching right where his bunny tattoo lies hidden beneath his clothes. A small part of him finds it amusing.)

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji whispers. He doesn’t need to speak any louder. Their faces are now mere inches apart. “I love you.”

And so Wei Wuxian does kiss him, because how can he resist?

They crush the flowers between them, but neither one cares enough to stop. They recommit themselves to one another, sharing the same breath. Their kiss is slow, unhurried, intimate. They linger, lips tasting every last centimeter of skin, reluctant to part.

An eternity passes between them. When they pull apart, both of them are smiling. Wei Wuxian’s smile is as bright as the sun, Lan Wangji’s as beautiful as the moon.

They hold hands as they walk to the counter. They don’t let go, even as Lan Wangji pays for the flowers they ruined.

The cashier gives them a knowing look. Neither notices.

They return to the apartment, and try to make the crumpled tulips look nice in a vase. Many of the petals are creased and folded at unattractive angles.

But Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji look at them with loving eyes. They look at the flowers for approximately a minute.

And then they go back to kissing.

#asks #anon #wangxian #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #mdzs modern au #drabbles #leigh’s writing #anonymous

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