Chapter Text
It was almost dusk, yet the sun had not fully set, its fading light caught in the thin mist curling through the Cloud Recesses. The sky was painted in hues of amber and violet, shadows stretching long across the stone paths.
Lan Xichen climbed the final stone steps toward the entrance, moving far more hurriedly than his usual composed demeanor would allow. A strange feeling had been tugging at him all evening ,the unmistakable sense that his pretty husband was up to something.
He considered using his sword to fly directly to the Hanshi from the entrance. He did not know why impatience gripped him so tightly today, but it refused to loosen its hold.
However, before he could even pass the main hall, the sight before him made him freeze.
There, standing boldly in the center of the Cloud Recesses, was his A-Cheng, wearing nothing but his used inner robes that are too big for his Wanyin and anyone looking at him knows that robes definitely belongs not to him but Lan Huan. The fabric hung loosely, scandalously, revealing far more than Lan Xichen was prepared to witness in the open courtyard. His usually scowl-possessed face was half-hidden behind strands of long dark hair, yet there was no mistaking him.
Lan Xichen paused, stunned.
For a fleeting second, he wondered if he was hallucinating. His A-Cheng, his beautiful, proud, easily flustered husband… standing in such a sensual state without a hint of shame.
What in the heavens was happening?
He had only been gone for a day.
As he stepped closer, and the situation became even clearer. Soft, drunken giggles spilled from those luscious pink lips, confirming his suspicion.
So that was it his lotus is drunk.
Only then did Lan Xichen take a look in the rest of the surroundings. His brother stood not far away, looking utterly resigned, while his brother-in-law clung to his shoulder, laughing openly at the spectacle of Jiang Cheng’s antics.
A few disciples passed by, clearly trying and failing not to stare.
Closer to the center of the chaos, Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi were desperately attempting to coax Jiang Wanyin back to the Hanshi, their expressions a mixture of embarrassment and panic. His stubborn husband, of course, refused to budge.
Lan Xichen silently thanked the heavens that their uncle and the elders were nowhere in sight. How long had this been going on?
But all his thoughts aligned when he noticed another figure standing quietly between the pillars of the passageway.
Ah.
So that was the reason.
Everything suddenly made sense.
That was why his normally prim and proper husband was putting on such a display in the open courtyard.
Lan Xichen knew very well that his A-Cheng is a jealous man. He had experienced firsthand the sharp edge of that possessiveness whenever this particular person standing between the piller was around. But what surprised him most is , this was the first time Jiang Cheng had acted out like this while Xichen was not by his side.
He knew he had reassured his husband countless times that there was nothing to worry about - that Jin Guangyao was not a threat. It was true that, many years ago, he had once harbored a youthful crush on the now Sect Leader Jin. And the man had once held feelings for him in return.
But that was long ago.
Whatever feelings might or might not remain on the other side no longer mattered. Only his husband’s feelings mattered to him now.
He regretted the day he had foolishly confessed that old crush to Jiang Cheng. His cunning, sharp-tongued husband had held onto that information like a treasured weapon , even though Xichen himself had long forgotten about that silly infatuation from when he was twenty.
And now, it seemed, he was witnessing the consequences of that honesty.
His jealous little kitten was making a scene. And, heavens help him, Lan Xichen could not even find it in himself to be truly angry.
Lan Xichen exhaled slowly.
Ah.
So that was how it would be.
Across the courtyard, framed by carved pillars and the thinning mist, Jin Guangyao stood with that ever-present, gentle smile, posture, and expression. But behind that smile something dark lies.
Of course.
Lan Xichen straightened his sleeves and stepped forward, each movement deliberate now. The hurriness vanished; in his place stood the great Zewu-Jun , the Sect Leader of Gusu Lan composed, serene, untouchable. And yet his eyes softened the moment they fell upon his husband.
A-Cheng was swaying slightly, one hand gripping the edge of his outer robe as if daring it to fall further. His pale collarbones caught the last streaks of amber light. His lips were parted in a stubborn pout, cheeks faintly flushed from wine or indignation, it was difficult to tell.
“Sect leader Jiang! Please return to the Hanshi and wait for Sect leader Lan!” Lan Jingyi pleads while glancing between Jiang Cheng and away from him, as though trying to limit how long his eyes are allowed to stay on Jiang Cheng.
“No! I won't go, there is no A-Huan , I want my Lan Huan!…” Jiang Cheng he shout angrily with acute poute. “you don't know without him now my body is cold, my home is cold, everything is clod and useless, I just want him now, I want him in my skin” he pouts with dissatisfaction.
Lan Jingyi hurriedly covers his ears while looking away. Lan Sizhui stands on the other side of his supposed uncle. He desperately pleading his father's for some help- any help but his one father was laughing uncontrollably while other is standing helpless.
“uncle… please,” Lan SIzhui pleads, his voice strained. “We will request for uncle xichen -”
So why don’t you wait in the Hanshi? It's getting dark ”
Jiang Cheng stops and thinks for a moment. “Mn… I don't want to go to home with out my husband, Lan Huan is warmer! I want him”
And for their horror Jiang cheng remove the front of the loose robe and state sadly...
"See his marks are fading, I want him to mark me up"
Lan Jingyi released a sigh as he watched the situation unfold. He had no idea what to do.
Not really.
Not truly.
He wasn’t even sure how they had ended up here, and he certainly wasn’t prepared for it.
Siuzhi was still struggling with his uncle, desperately seeking his father’s help to resolve the mess. And if Lan Jingyi’s guesses were correct, that same father of siuzhi was partly responsible for it in the first place.
_
Today, the Sect Leader Lan had a minor matter to attend in a neighboring sect, leaving Cloud Recesses unusually quiet. Or so it seemed.
And early in the morning, an unexpected visitor arrived: Sect Leader Jin.
Unannounced.
This immediately forced Sect Leader Jiang to step up and welcome him on behalf of his husband. Lan Jingyi didn’t know the full story, but he was keenly aware of the tension, Sect Leader Jin and Sect Leader Jiang did not get along.
Most people weren’t particularly fond of sect leader Jin, but sect leader Jiang dislike was obvious, almost theatrical, to anyone paying attention. Their passive-aggressive exchanges left no doubt, these two were not friends.With Sect Leader Lan away, Jiang was left to entertain Jin alone. It was a recipe for disaster.
The morning passed without incident. The afternoon was uneventful. But then evening arrived, and with it, chaos.
The “precious husband” of the Second Jade of Gusu, beloved brother of sect leader Jiang, loving father of Lan sizhui has appeared after finishing his small trip with his husband the great Hanguang-jun, and the situation spiraled.
Lan Jingyi could definitely tell the smell of the alcohol on Sect Leader Jiang was that it was from his own beloved brother. It was strong and unmistakable.
Lan Jingyi and Siuzhi were merely passing through Hanshi as part of their patrol when they saw the Sect Leader Jiang, charging down the path like a man possessed. He is going for the guest cottage, and Wei Wuxian’s voice echoed behind them, frantic and commanding- “Catch the drunken man before he goes anywhere!” "catch my beloved brother", he faked crying for more effective.
Without hesitation, Lan Jingyi and Sizhui raced after Jiang Cheng, weaving through the misty paths. And now, here they were, caught in the middle of a disaster no one could have predicted.
They were surrounded by people, including the visiting guests. In the center of it all stood Sect Leader Jiang, shouting as he demanded his husband back.
“Give him to me!”
His voice cracked like thunder across the courtyard. He threatened everyone present — if anyone dared to look at his husband, tried to touch him, or even so much as think about him, they would have to answer to Zidian.
Lan Jingyi was utterly confused. Why in the world would anyone dare to touch — let alone think about Zewu-jun, knowing full well that his husband was the fearsome Sect Leader Jiang himself?
And it's been quite some time but the sect leaders is refused to leave without his husband and Lan Jingy is tried.
_
Then Suddenly he hear the very drunken man yell...
“A- Huan!” Jiang Cheng declared loudly. “You’re late.” " You are finally here".
Lan Jingyi visibly sagged in relief. “Sect Leader!” he whispered, as though salvation had arrived.
Lan Sizhui bowed. “Uncle.”
Wei Wuxian laughed openly. “Xichen-ge, you may want to hurry, your husband is about to declare war on the cultivation world.”
Lan Wangji remained silent, though there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips.
Lan Xichen ignored them all.
He walked straight toward his husband.
“And what,” he asked gently, stopping a respectful distance away, “is my husband doing in the middle of the Cloud Recesses dressed like this?”
Jiang Cheng lifted his chin defiantly.
“Breathing.”
A ripple of poorly concealed laughter passed through the onlookers.
Lan Xichen did not so much as blink.
“I see,” he replied calmly. “Is breathing more comfortable without proper robes?” he added slowly" and it's my under robe A-cheng!!..""
Jiang Cheng’s scowl deepened at the mention,which, unfortunately for his dignity, only made him look more flushed and lovely. He lied straight through his teeth;
“I was warm.”
“In this mountain mist?” he gestured the visible mist floating in the cloud recesses.
“Yes!”
Wei Wuxian leaned toward Lan Wangji and whispered, entirely too audibly, “He’s been ‘warm’ ever since sect leader jin arrived.”
Jiang Cheng spun around. “Wei Wuxian, shut up!”
Jin Guangyao gave a soft, apologetic chuckle. “Sect Leader Lan, I fear I may have arrived at an… inconvenient time.”
Lan Xichen’s gaze flickered toward him polite, unreadable.
“You are always welcome in the Cloud Recesses, Sect Leader Jin.” he said with a gentle smile.
Jiang Cheng made a sharp, offended sound.
“Always welcome?” he repeated dangerously near his husband ears.
Ah.
There it was.
Lan Xichen stepped even close enough that he could catch the faint scent of lotus and wine clinging to Jiang Cheng’s skin.
He lowered his voice so only his husband could hear.
“A-Cheng.”
The anger faltered instantly at the softness of that tone.
“Yes?” Jiang Cheng snapped anyway, though far less convincingly.
Lan Xichen reached out and gently drew the slipping robe back over Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, fingers brushing warm skin only briefly before tying the sash properly.
The courtyard went very quiet.
“You have nothing to prove,” Lan Xichen murmured.
Jiang Cheng’s lashes trembled. “I’m not proving anything.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then why,” Xichen continued, voice still unbearably mild, “are you attempting to seduce me in front of half my sect?”
Jiang Cheng’s entire face went scarlet.
“I am not seducing you!” he yelled.
Wei Wuxian choked.
Lan Jingyi covered his face.
Lan Sizhui looked ready to sink into the ground.
Lan Xichen leaned closer, lowering his voice further. “If you wished for my attention, A-Cheng, you need only ask.”
“I wasn’t—” Jiang Cheng sputtered. “You were busy.
Lan Xichen’s expression softened completely.
He lifted a hand and brushed a stray lock of hair away from Jiang Cheng’s face. “I was dealing with the sect matters.”
Lan Xichen could not help it.
He smiled.
Jiang Cheng looked angry. “Don’t smile!”
“And why not?”
“Because you— you— just smile at your A- Yao just now and I don't like it, so don't smile till I allowed you too”
Ah.
The courtyard, the disciples, even Jin Guangyao himself — all of it faded from Xichen’s awareness.
He cupped Jiang Cheng’s cheek gently.
“i only have have my eyes for you, I only look at you like this,” he said quietly, meeting those storm-dark eyes without hesitation. “you are my love, my husband , my lotus flower.”
Jiang Cheng swallowed.
“You look at me like I’m troublesome.”
“You are troublesome.”
A beat.
“But you are my favorite kind of trouble and mine only. The kind of trouble I wish to find everything breathing second of my life.”
The possessiveness in Lan Xichen’s tone was subtle—so subtle that anyone else might have missed it—but Jiang Cheng felt it instantly, sharp and electric. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he forgot everything else.
They were suddenly completely oblivious to the crowd. Lan Xichen welcomed his drunken husband’s lips with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the hunger in Jiang Cheng’s bite. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and infinitely intimate, a claim marked with both love and need.
Jiang Cheng clung to him as if afraid Xichen might vanish. His hands gripped Xichen’s shoulders, pulling him close, body pressing against body. The warmth radiating off him made Xichen’s own skin flush beneath his robes. His hands travel from xichen shoulder to neck, gripping it tightly - Xichen's one hand is in Wanyin's waist and other holding his head steady, And then suddenly his husband's sly hand grip Xichen's hair and bit down on Xichen's lips, harder, more demanding than ever. Xichen, startled, suddenly aware of the his surrounding, the sharp tug of teeth against his flesh, and he felt a rush of something else: a fierce, possessive thrill.
His hand moved on instinct, curling around Jiang Cheng’s small waist, steadying him, guiding him, even as he turned slightly to address the watching crowd. Every movement was as controlled, composed—sect leader.
“Sizhui.
Jingyi.”
“Yes, Sect Leader!”
“Please escort our guests to the guest halls. Inform them I will join shortly.”
Even if Xichen is not directly addressing him , still Jin Guangyao inclined his head gracefully, voice smooth as silk said a “Of course.”
Xichen lifted his gaze to the visiting sect leader, fully aware of the scandalous picture him and his husband were presenting. And Jiang Cheng very drunk, bold, unashamed moved with the confidence of someone who owned Xichen’s body as much as his heart. He pressed closer, mouth grazing Xichen’s neck, biting again, low and sharp. A hiss escaped Xichen at a particularly sharp bite, he tried act cool even though his grip on his husband hips tight uncontrollably.
For a moment Lan Xichen’s eyes flicked again to Jin Guangyao. There was a knowing glint in them, subtle but undeniable. The visiting sect leader wasn’t looking away. No, he was watching?? studying the scene with a sharpness that almost made Xichen’s composed mask falter. Jealous? Perhaps. Or maybe calculating. Either way, Jin’s gaze lingered, heavy with unspoken tension.
Xichen’s hand tightened imperceptibly around Jiang Cheng’s waist. The bite, the heat, the audacious closeness—it all screamed of desire and possession, yet Xichen moved with the serene authority of a leader, commanding attention without losing control.
The crowd didn’t dare intervene. They could feel it the charged, dangerous intimacy between the two men. Every glance, every slight movement spoke volumes: Jiang Cheng was Xichen’s, utterly and undeniably. And Xichen… Xichen was perfectly, maddeningly aware of it.
As Jiang Cheng nipped at his neck once more, Xichen leaned just enough to whisper, low and controlled, “Enough, A-Cheng.”
But the low, playful growl of "A-Huan" was heard followed by a small moan near his ear. Xichen control is threatening to fall.
The guests, the onlookers, the visiting sect leader—all of them would remember this moment. And in the midst of it, Xichen and Jiang Cheng stood, scandalous, untamed, and unashamed.
Wei Wuxian grinned. “Ah, marital negotiations. We should definitely give them privacy.”
Lan Wangji simply nodded and followed.
The courtyard slowly emptied, mist curling and swallowing the scattered whispers.
When they were alone, Lan Xichen looked down at Jiang Cheng, who suddenly seemed far less bold without an audience.
“You drank.”
“A little.”
“You caused a scene.”
“I did not.”
“You were showing off yourself to a group of my disciples.”
Jiang Cheng winced. “Did I?”
“You also informed them that your body…” Xichen paused, voice heated but steady. “…You said your body is cold without me.”
Silence.
“…I stand by that.”
Lan Xichen laughed softly.
It was the sound that completely undid Jiang Cheng.
“Don’t laugh. I still didn’t give you permission,” Jiang Cheng muttered.
“I do not dare,” Xichen replied, brushing his thumb lightly over Jiang Cheng’s flushed cheek. Then, leaning in closer, he murmured slowly, “I love you.”
At that, Jiang Cheng pressed his lips against Xichen’s again, full and desperate. The kiss started frantic, lips meeting in urgent, hungry bursts. Jiang Cheng bit lightly, testing Xichen’s resolve, then slid his tongue along the seam of Xichen’s lips, teasing, coaxing him into responding.
Lan Xichen’s hands rose, resting against Jiang Cheng’s shoulders before threading into his hair, tilting his head slightly to deepen the kiss. Jiang Cheng’s hands clutched at Xichen’s robes, then slid over his back, pulling him flush against his body. Every press of lips was an unspoken claim, every brush of tongue a question and an answer: you are mine, and I am yours.
Jiang Cheng’s breaths came in uneven gasps, mingling with Xichen’s steady inhalations. He bit again, slightly harder this time, eliciting a soft groan from Xichen, and then licked along his lips, tasting him fully, memorizing him. He wanted Xichen to melt into him, to let all the control slip, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to the two of them, locked in heat, desire, and unspoken promises.
The flicker of jealousy in Jiang Cheng’s chest returned, though weaker now, softened by the closeness between them.
Even if he—” Jiang Cheng began, voice rough with possessiveness.
“There is no ‘even if or he,’” Xichen said firmly for the first time.
“What I felt at twenty was curiosity. What I feel now is choice.”
Jiang Cheng looked up at him, eyes wide.
“Choice?”
“I wake up beside you every morning and choose you,” Lan Xichen said. “Not because I must. Because I want to.”
The last light of sunset faded fully, violet surrendering to deep blue.
Jiang Cheng’s fingers curled into the front of Xichen’s robes, holding on as though letting go would undo the world.
“You’re not allowed to smile at him like that,” he muttered stubbornly.
Lan Xichen leaned down, pressing a gentle, chaste, warm kiss against Jiang Cheng’s temple, intimate without being rushed, a quiet vow in the simple press of lips. “I will smile as you please,” he murmured against his skin, “and I will only smile at you, Only look at you and only worship you.”
Jiang Cheng exhaled, tension finally melting from his shoulders.
“…Fine.” mmm.. “ may be you can smile once in a while if you keep me warm”
Lan Xichen’s arms wrapped around him then, drawing him fully into an embrace — possessive, grounding, the kind of hold that promises safety and belonging. And whisper hotly in his ear, “ always A-cheng always” I am willing to do anything to keep you warm..
Wanyin meet his eyes lustfully "then you have to be inside me all the time A-Huan.."
Xichen grip on him tighten further and wishper " oh A-cheng I will drop everything to be inside you always"
“And next time,” Xichen added lightly, “if you wish to tempt me, do it in Hanshi.”
Jiang Cheng shoved him weakly. “Lan Huan!”
His husband laughed again, steady and warm, lifting his very drunk husband and guiding them toward the stone steps.
Behind them, the mist thickened, swallowing the remnants of scandal. Someone was still watching them, unknown to them, heart burning with jealousy.
🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷
Jin Guangyao was a master of the mask. He had spent his entire life perfecting the art of the pleasant smile and the humble bow, ensuring that no one not the high-born Sect Leaders nor the common servants could ever see the gears turning behind his eyes.
But as he stood between the cold stone pillars of the Cloud Recesses, watching Lan Xichen wrap his arms around a drunken, disheveled Jiang Cheng, the mask felt like it was made of cracking glass.
To the world, Jin Guangyao was the "younger brother" of the Zewu-Jun. But in the quiet corners of his mind, he remembered a time when he believed he was the only one who truly understood the soul of Gusu Lan’s Sect Leader.
Years ago, before the sun fell and the world burned, there had been a specific way Xichen looked at him. It was a look of pure, untainted admiration. Xichen had been the first person of status to treat him not as a "son of a prostitute," but as an equal.
Guangyao remembered the heat of a youthful crush that had simmered between them—a silent understanding during late-night discussions over tea and scrolls. He had convinced himself that Xichen was a prize he could eventually claim, a beacon of light that would finally wash away the stains of his birth. He had waited, calculated, and positioned himself to be the most important person in Xichen’s life.
He had assumed that Xichen’s heart was like a fortress: difficult to enter.
He had been wrong.
Jiang Cheng had not entered the fortress through the front gate; he had torn the walls down with a lightning-crack of Zidian and a series of stubborn, ill-tempered shouts.
Guangyao watched with a simmering, toxic envy as Xichen pulled his husband close. He saw the way Xichen’s hands—hands that usually moved with the precision of a scholar—now gripped Jiang Cheng’s waist with a possessive, almost primal intensity.
It wasn't just the affection that hurt. It was the honesty of it.
Now when Xichen looked at jin Guangyao, there was kindness, politeness, and a haunting "brotherly" affection. It was a sterile, clean emotion.
But when Xichen looked at the mess that was Jiang Cheng—drunken, scandalous, and petulant—there was fire. There was a raw, unbridled desire that Xichen never managed to fully hide, no matter how many Lan rules he recited.
Jin Guangyao’s fingers tightened inside his sleeves, his nails biting into his palms.
He heard Xichen’s low murmur: "What I felt at twenty was curiosity. What I feel now is choice."
The words felt like a physical blow. To Xichen, the "crush" on Guangyao was a relic of the past—a "silly infatuation" from his youth. He had filed Guangyao away into a drawer labeled Nostalgia, while Jiang Cheng was the living, breathing Present.
Watching Jiang Cheng bite Xichen’s neck, marking him in front of the world, made a bitter taste rise in Guangyao’s throat. Jiang Cheng was everything Guangyao was not: he was loud, he was honest to a fault, and he didn't care about being "perfect." And yet, he was the one Xichen chose to come home to.
As the disciples led him away toward the guest halls, Guangyao didn't look back, but his mind remained fixed on the image of them. He hated Jiang Cheng—not for his status or his power, but for the ease with which he held Xichen’s heart.
He hated that Jiang Cheng could be a "troublesome kitten" and be loved for it, while Guangyao had to be a "perfect fox" just to be tolerated.
After rounding the corner and ensuring they were out of the direct line of sight of the main courtyard, Jin Guangyao paused. His smile remained fixed, a perfect porcelain mask, as he turned to Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi.
"Thank you for the escort, Sizhui , Jingyi," he said, his voice as smooth as polished jade. "I can find my way from here.
You’ve both had a very long evening; please, go and rest."
The disciples, eager to escape the lingering awkwardness of their Sect Leader’s domestic display, bowed deeply and hurried away.
But Guangyao did not go to his room.
Instead, he waited until the sound of their retreating footsteps faded into the mist. Driven by a compulsion he couldn't quite name—perhaps a masochistic need to see the truth until it burned—he turned back. He retraced his steps with silent, feline grace, stopping just behind the curve of a stone pillar where the shadows were deepest.
He stood there and watched.
He watched as Lan Xichen, the man he had once thought was his soul’s twin, lowered his head to speak against Jiang Cheng’s skin. He watched the way Xichen’s hands didn't just hold his husband, but *claimed* him, grounding the trembling, drunken man with a tenderness that was almost painful to behold.
In the silence of the misty courtyard, the reality set in. Jin Guangyao had always prided himself on his ability to calculate value. He had spent years positioning himself to be indispensable to Xichen, thinking that loyalty and shared secrets would be the foundation of a permanent bond. But seeing them now, he realized he had been playing a game of chess while Jiang Cheng had been fighting a war of the heart.
Every time Jiang Cheng bit into Xichen’s shoulder, every time his fingers curled into those pristine white robes, he was writing his name into a place Guangyao could never reach.
The fire of jealousy inside him didn't go out; it simply turned into a cold, hard coal. He knew what he had to do. He would continue to play the role of the supportive friend. He would be the graceful guest and the loyal sworn brother, smiling through every dinner and every diplomatic meeting.
But as he watched Xichen lift Jiang Cheng into his arms to carry him toward the Hanshi, Guangyao finally admitted it to himself in the dark: he was merely a footnote in Xichen’s history, while Jiang Cheng was the epic poem Xichen intended to read until the end of his days.