Chapter Text
Nie Huaisang emerged from the water as the arm that wrapped around him suddenly yanked him up and ashore onto a nearby patch of dirt.
He gasped, lungs attempting to reclaim the oxygen it had been deprived of, and after a few shaky moments he began to process his surroundings.
Jiang Cheng’s hand was still resting on his waist, and the two of them lay sprawled out beside the other. Unfairly, Jiang Cheng did not seem to be as worse for wear as Nie Huaisang felt.
Seeing his minor recovery, Jiang Cheng stood up and dusted himself off, before holding out a hand to Nie Huaisang which was then gratefully accepted.
As he was pulled up, he felt his body protest its departure from the nice, horizontal ground, by deciding to make his head spin. It must have showed on his face, as a secure hand promptly appeared on his shoulder, steadying him.
He blinked, and looked up to lock eyes with Jiang Cheng, who was making what Nie Huaisang had learnt to be his ‘I'm really worried about you but I don't want you to know that’ face.
“Do you still need to rest?”
Nie Huaisang took a deep breath, before gently removing the other’s hand. He fluttered about a (mostly dry) fan as he waved off the remark.
“No need, I’m fine now.” He paired his statement with standing up a little straighter, such that it might be more convincing.
There’s more important things to be worrying about right now…
A little awkwardly, he turned away from Jiang Cheng’s apprehensive gaze to observe those who had just surfaced from the lake.
The others who had followed behind them trickled out of the lake in pairs and threes, and it wasn’t long before one burst out of the water and spoke.
“There was just Lan er-gongzi and Wei Wuxian left after me.”
Nie Huaisang felt dread begin to creep in, but he quickly cast it out. There was no use excessively worrying about his friends. He shared a terse look with Jiang Cheng, who, after what was seemingly a moment of deliberation, made to re-enter the water.
Yet even before he could step foot in the lake, the atmosphere turned sharply tense. The tranquil scene had deceived them. Now, Wen soldiers lurking in the shadows revealed themselves.
An ambush.
Nie Huaisang’s heart raced as he panicked - they had escaped from a life-threatening situation, only to jump into the hands of another.
A cascade of talismans and arrows rained upon them, with Wen Chao occasionally yelling, “Don’t let them escape!”
In the chaos that ensued, he caught glimpses of Jiang Cheng and Mianmian fighting valiantly around him. The group of cultivators, though outnumbered, managed to hold their ground for a while. However, their weaponless skills could only take them so far against a horde of armed cultivators (and Wen Chao’s incessant voice).
Despite their efforts, they were overwhelmed. Injuries mounted, and desperation set in. Observing the situation, Jiang Cheng made a decision.
“We need to retreat! There are too many of them!” His voice was barely heard over the clamour, but it was loud enough for the young cultivators to hear. They were fighting a losing battle, and it took only moments for everyone to agree with the Yunmeng boy.
Soon, everyone scattered in different directions. The enemies followed, but the fragmented escape allowed for less concentrated attacks, increasing everyone’s chances of successful evasion.
Jiang Cheng, Mianmian and Nie Huaisang lept over bushes, under trees and took cover behind a waterfall. The once nearby voices became quieter and died out, and they knew they had reached a safe distance. They began to look around for Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, but the ominous silence that followed worried them.
“We can’t leave them behind. Let’s double back and find them,” Jiang Cheng declared, his gaze flickering between the direction they came from.
“But what if they’ve also escaped already and we’ve just been split up from them? They could be on their way to find help already and we’d be sitting here risking ourselves…”
Jiang spared him an eye, and Nie Huaisang cowered behind his fan.
“If they had escaped, do you think Wei Wuxian would be quiet enough that we wouldn’t hear him anywhere on this damn mountain? And knowing him, he would at least leave something behind so I’d know he’d got out alright.”
Mianmian nodded. “I agree with Jiang-gongzi. It’s worth going back.”
Nie Huaisang hesitated, glancing at the injuries they already sustained. “Jiang-xiong, are you sure it’s safe? We could head down the mountain now and send for help instead.”
Mianmian, with a fierce look in her eye, sided with Jiang Cheng. “Wei-gongzi and Lan-gongzi went out of their way to help me. We can’t just leave them.”
Then what was the point in splitting up and forcing me to run so fast….
In the end, Nie Huaisang could only relent to his two passionate companions.
*
It was sunset.
Once they were confident the Wens were nowhere near them, the (somewhat) unlikely trio began to slowly double back, still taking caution in their steps.
Soon, they could see the lake that was home to the tunnel.
The lake that had once been the source of such strife was now empty, with Wen pursuers giving chase to their targets around the mountain. Whether those Wen cultivators would end up chasing their own tails in their stupidity, no-one knows. But the trio hoped they would.
Jiang Cheng had found nothing out of place, and his heart dropped knowing the worst: they were still in the cave.
They sat at the edge of the water, patiently waiting for Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. However, as minutes turned into an eternity, it became evident that the pair was not catching up. Fear and urgency gripped them, and Nie Huaisang spoke up again.
“They’re really not coming…what should we do now?”
“We could…go back into the tunnel?” Mianmian suggested.
“That would be too risky. Swimming back into that lake would agitate the beast again which would be dangerous for us and them. We don’t know where they are in that cave so it might make matters worse. Even worse, the tunnel might have collapsed…” Jiang Cheng replied.
Over the next hour, they brainstormed a variety of ideas, only to be shot down by one of the group each time with sensible logic.
Nie Huaisang peered over his fan once more. “We can’t keep waiting here either. Jiang-xiong, I think we might need to head down and send for help. That would be more helpful than sitting here waiting for them…”
As they waited, hope dwindled. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji didn’t appear.
This time, Jiang Cheng was the one to relent, knowing that Nie Huaisang was right.
“Fine, then. We can’t linger. Once we leave the forest, you just head back to Qinghe and take care of yourself; I’ll go back to Yunmeng and get help. I’ll be faster than you.” Jiang Cheng decided.
Nie Huaisang nodded, and after they deemed themselves to be out of immediate danger, they set off in separate directions, bidding farewell with a knowing look.
Jiang Cheng headed back to Yunmeng, the urgency of the situation imprinted on his face. Nie Huaisang, accompanied by Mianmian, chose a nearby city to seek help. They moved slowly and as inconspicuously as they could to avoid detection (and excessive agitation of injuries).
*
In the urban labyrinth of the city, they hid among the bustling crowd, nursing their wounds and planning their next move. The pair moved with the grace of shadows, avoiding the prying eyes of Wen soldiers.
"Think they'll follow us here?" Nie Huaisang asked, his eyes full of worry.
"Let's hope not. But if they do, we'll be ready," Mianmian replied with a determined smile.
The narrow streets of the bustling city echoed with the hum of activity as Mianmian and Nie Huaisang navigated through the crowd. Despite the disorder of the city, a sense of purpose exuded from Mianmian’s every step. Her eyes darted left and right, ever watchful for potential trouble, while Nie Huaisang clutched his fan like a lifeline.
As they moved through the crowded marketplace, Mianmian noticed a group of rowdy individuals eyeing them with ill intent. Turning to Nie Huaisang, she spoke with determination
“Nie-er-gongzi, stay close. We may have company.”
Nie Huaisang, usually more comfortable with fans than blades, nodded nervously. The group approached, their intentions clear. One of them, emboldened by arrogance, blocked their path.
“Well, well, what do we have here? A lovely wealthy couple with no weapon to protect themselves.”
Soon, their entire crowd surrounded them.
“Why not help out a fella or two? Or maybe all of us! With how fancy your clothes are, I’m sure you can spare a penny or two for us.”
Nie Huaisang laughed meekly. “Ahaha… good sirs, can’t you see the dirt and blood on our clothes? We really don’t have any money.”
“Haha, you seem to be mistaking something. Dirty and bloody clothes are still fancy clothes. Nothing a good wash can’t fix! And that fan,” the thug pointed to him, “Looks pretty fancy too. Might as well take it with us.”
Nie Huaisang’s ears perked up at the mention of his fan. “Oh! It seems you also have a keen eye for quality craftsmanshipー”
He was suddenly brought back to the present by a timely jab from Mianmian.
“W-wait! No! You can’t have it… please just leave us alone…”
The thug continued, “Who said we can’t? Don’t they teach you about charity in those elite houses of yours?”
Without missing a beat, the rowdy individuals closed in, surrounding the pair. Mianmian, weaponless but unfazed, stood her ground.
With a wry smile, she replied, “They also taught me not to give money to overly zealous individuals who surround you in a marketplace, especially if they’re harassing people.”
The leader, not expecting Mianmian to retort so bluntly, laughed out loud. “Haha! Harassing? We’re taking and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Mianmian looked up at him. “Who said there’s nothing I can do about it?”
He marched up to her, pushing her shoulder in mockery. “See? You can’t even stop me doing this! And by the looks of it, your lovely companion seems to be too weak to stop me too.”
At this point, any onlookers had either dispersed or been too scared to approach, both out of fear.
He continued to push her shoulder as she stepped backwards. Nie Huaisang, despite his feeble stature, meekly reached an arm to Mianmian in an attempt to help. Yet Mianmian held a fierce look in her eyes, and that was enough for Nie Huaisang to know to stay out of it. Cowering behind his fan, Nie Huaisang could do nothing but wonder how she would handle the sight before him.
“See? See?” The thug emphasised each word with a shove.
Mianmian, however, had enough of this child’s play.
She swiftly caught his wrist before his next shove landed, looking up at the thug with a smile. Her eyes were not to be mistaken, though.
Those eyes contained a deadly glare.
The leader continued to mock her. “Oho! And who do you think is going to help you now?”
“Me."
With that, Mianmian thrust the heel of her palm upwards, cleanly landing on the thug's nose. Seeing their leader stumble backwards in agony, the rest of the gang launched themselves at her.
The first thug lunged at Mianmian, only to be met with swift footwork and nimble evasions. She wove her movements with sharp chops and kicks, landing a critical hit every time. Mianmian danced around the attackers, avoiding their clumsy attempts with a grace that surprised even Nie Huaisang.
Nie Huaisang, nervously holding his fan, whispered, “Luo-guniang, do you need a metal fan? I have plenty!”
Mianmian, effortlessly dodging an incoming swing, chuckled, “Save those fans for your next performance, Nie-er-gongzi. A fan would be an unfair advantage.” She threw another punch “To me!”
The rowdy gang, growing frustrated, attempted to corner Mianmian. She skilfully used the crowded marketplace to her advantage, ducking and weaving between stalls and bystanders.
“Stand still, you bitch!”
Mianmian replied cheekily, “Sorry boys! I don’t have time to play tag. It was fun, though. Maybe next time!”
Her words further fueled their frustration, and the gang - twice her size but half her agility - soon crashed into a curtain stall. They toppled on top of each other, creating a beautiful stack of human pancakes. And to top it off, a curtain landed neatly on top of the pile as if to simultaneously provide decoration and censor the sight for any poor onlookers.
Mianmian dragged Nie Huaisang to a small alleyway with a triumphant grin.
Nie Huaisang, still clutching his fans, marvelled at Mianmian’s unexpected display of prowess. “That was amazing! Remind me never to cross you…”
Mianmian, regaining her composure, led the way through the bustling city, her victory adding a spring to her step.
“Anyway, Nie-er-gongzi. How are we going to find help?”
“I was able to make a spiritual device and sent it to Da-ge to ask for help,” he spoke as he removed some paper from a spare fan, “Although now that we are relatively safe, it might be good to tell him to meet us here….”
“You can do that?” Mianmian questioned as Nie Huaisang hastily sketched a spiritual device array on the paper.
“Just about.” he replied, infusing the paper with spiritual energy.
A faint glow enveloped it before it flew into the sky.
“Now we wait.”
Mianmian watched it drift away in awe, “That was incredible!”
Nie Huaisang’s eyes sparkled at the praise, but quickly shrank back again. “It might be, but please don’t tell anyone that it was me who made that. Say it was Wei-xiong, or maybe Jiang-xiong - anyone but me!”
She was stumped with confusion. “Why not? I’m sure your brother would be proud to see you be so resourceful and demonstrate your spiritual power!”
“He would tell me to take the time I spent learning this to practise my sabre skills.”
“...”
“...Yeah.”
“Yeah, I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry.”
“Thank yoー”
“Probably.”
“...”
“Not.”
“Wa! Luo-guniang, stop teasing me please!”
Mianmian could only giggle, and Nie Huaisang could only cry behind his fan.
*
Days passed, and the two of them stayed holed up in a lavish inn while awaiting rescue. Nie Huaisang sighed as he lay on the extravagant cushions and mourned the loss of his pendant, having pawned it to afford the fee, but Mianmian simply raised an amused eyebrow at his antics and kept watch out the window.
A knock came from the door, and Mianmian opened it to reveal Nie Zhonghui on the other side. He glanced at Nie Huaisang lounging on the brocade divan before striding in.
“Nie-er-gongzi, Zhongzhu received your message. I am here to retrieve you and bring you safely back to Qinghe.”
From his reclined position, Nie Huaisang gratefully welcomed the sight.
“Waaa, Zhonghui!!!” He got up to embrace the man and clutched at his hems, sniffling a few times for the added effect. “It has been so hard here… next time, don’t let Da-ge send me away like this. I’ve suffered oh so much …”
Nie Zhonghui looked down at the sight in his arms, not deigning to mention the likely price of the room they stood in. However, he less tactfully proceeded to mention something else.
“Nie-er-gongzi, it seems that while you have indeed suffered, you have also found the time to purchase some new clothes?”
Nie Huaisang took a step back, gaping at the accusation.
“It was necessary ! You haven’t seen the state of the clothes we escaped in, all damp and bloody and torn!” He glanced at the useless bystander. “Tell him Mianmian!”
“It’s true, Nie er-gongzi’s last outfit is past its best.” Nie Huaisang shot a triumphant look at Nie Zhonghui. “But… perhaps he didn’t need to spend quite so much time or money picking out this one.”
Nie Huaisang glared at her, internally cursing her betrayal. Not to worry, he could still rescue the situation.
He took out his most battered fan, (one of Da-Ye’s,) and held it so that it hid the maximum amount of embroidery and none of his face. Next, he turned his ‘pitiful’ expression up to the max and began to whimper a retelling of the events in Qishan.
Externally, he teared up, cried, and shook. Internally, he smiled and cheered as he watched Nie Zhonghui’s expression turn from affectionate amusement to horrified appall.
The scene ended with him bawling as Nie Zhonghui patted his back to console him and promised not to tell Nie Zhongzhu about any of his extremely justified expenditures.
*
And so, he had managed to escape back to Qinghe, and the haven of the fan shop. The siblings greeted him warmly, eager to hear the tales of his adventures. Amidst the joyous reunion, they couldn't help but notice the battered state of his fans.
Er-Ye teased, “Nie-er-gongzi, I never knew you hated us so much! Look at the state of these fans!”
Nie Huaisang flinched, “Waaa! Da-Ye, Er-Ye, San-Ye, I promise it isn’t what you think! I know you made it into a competition, but please hear what I have to say first!”
As Nie Huaisang explained his encounters with Wang Lingjiao, the siblings' facial expressions went on a rollercoaster from shock to pure laughter. The siblings gathered around to inspect the fans, counting the number of times they had been smacked out of his hands. Even San-Ye, typically serene, sighed over the mistreatment of his fans.
“I can’t believe my poor fans were violated by someone like her…”
Da-Ye gave a hearty chuckle and patted his shoulder. “Cheer up! Look at the bright side - it means our fans must have been really good for that Wang Lingjiao to be jealous of Nie-er-gongzi!”
However, Er-Ye, true to his sly personality, now fanned the flames of a new competition.
“So… instead of the cleanest fans, we should be looking for the dirtiest fans, shouldn’t we? Since, if that woman smacked it out of Nie-er-gongzi’s hands every waking second, the ones that are dirtiest must be the ones that he was using the most…?”
Nie Huaisang, still reeling from the ordeal, blinked at the unexpected turn of the conversation. The realisation hit him like a gust of wind. Er-Ye's mischievous grin only widened, sensing the brewing chaos.
"Dirty fans, you say?" San-Ye mused, tapping his chin with the fan he was currently holding. "An intriguing twist to our usual competition, brother."
Da-Ye joined the banter, "Yes, the more battered, the more cherished! Let's see which fan has truly endured the trials of Nie-er-gongzi's adventures.”
In the spirit of camaraderie, Nie Huaisang reluctantly played along. "Well, I suppose if you put it that way, we might have some contenders for the title of 'most cherished fan.' Though, I must admit, the poor fans didn't stand a chance against Wang Lingjiao."
The siblings burst into laughter, appreciating the unexpected twist that Nie Huaisang had brought to their usual competitions. They gathered around the battered fans, examining them with a mix of amusement and curiosity. Each fan told a story of its own, with smudges, dents, and creases forming a unique narrative of Nie Huaisang's recent escapades.
As they inspected the fans, Er-Ye couldn't resist teasing Nie Huaisang, "You really know how to attract trouble, don't you, Nie-er-gongzi? Perhaps you should consider getting a sturdier fan for your next adventure. Metal fans aren’t my speciality, but that could easily change."
Nie Huaisang sighed, “Ahaha… next time, I was just thinking about not damaging my fan at all… they’ve had enough damage for a lifetime.” He glanced down at his fans, which now looked more like they had survived a battlefield than a journey to Qishan.
Da-Ye, however, had a mischievous glint in his eye. “But Nie-er-gongzi, think about the potential for a new market! Fans with battle scars, specially designed for those who want to make a statement. We could call them 'Resilience Fans' or 'Survivor’s Fans'!”
Nie Huaisang looked horrified at the thought of marketing his fan abuse, but Er-Ye and Da-Ye seemed to be seriously considering it. San-Ye sighed and turned to Nie Huaisang, “Fear not, we won’t exploit your misfortune for profit. Let’s focus on restoring these fans instead.”
He still got one final jab in. “Still, I can’t believe you let my fans be violated like that.”
“I’m so sorry!”
On the other side of the room, the two saw Da-Ye and Er-Ye in the middle of a heated discussion.
Er-Ye interjected, “Da-ge, I still won. Just concede defeat and admit that my fans are better than yours.”
However, Da-Ye was not one to be defeated. “Liar! Just look at this big rip here - it’s the result of multiple tears over time, not just one big hit. Clearly, he’s used it more times than you thought. That said, it does take a highly skilled eye to distinguish between the tears so I forgive you for not noticing it…”
“Oi!”
San-Ye could only sigh at their antics.
*
Over the next few days, Nie Huaisang engaged in fan repair sessions with the siblings. The delicate paper was carefully mended, paintings were reborn and the bamboo ribs were reinforced. Despite the physical damage, the essence of each fan remained intact, and that, to Nie Huaisang, was a testament to their quality.
As they worked, Nie Huaisang couldn’t help but reflect on the chaotic events in Qishan. He shared his experiences with the siblings, from his reunion with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng to his comical encounters with Wang Lingjiao.
Er-Ye, in between strokes of paint on a fan, chuckled, “Who would have thought that your fans would become weapons of revenge?” He joked, “Haha, maybe we should add a defensive layer to them – just in case.”
San-Ye nodded in agreement, “Indeed, Nie-er-gongzi, your journey has shown us the importance of versatility in our craft.”
Although Nie Huaisang was grateful to the siblings for restoring his fans, his eyes still looked full of grief. Catching on, Da-Ye quickly questioned his expression.
Nie Huaisang mourned, “The beautiful art that was on these fans - just because of her, now they’re lost forever.”
His eyes traced the delicate strokes of colour now marred and faded, a silent witness to the battles it had faced.
San-Ye looked up at him, “Nie-er-gongzi, all that has once existed becomes lost to time. Art has an ephemeral nature, like the fleeting beauty of the seasons. Each layer of paint we put on these fans is a testament to the passage of time.”
Nie Huaisang sighed, his gaze fixed on the worn-out artwork. “Still, it’s disheartening, San-Ye. This was one of my favourites, a delicate and innocent scene, but now it’s a scene of utter destruction.”
San-Ye placed a comforting hand on Nie Huaisang's shoulder. "In the grand painting of life, each stroke of the brush mirrors the cycles of nature. The cherry blossoms bloom in their vibrant glory, only to scatter with the wind, making way for new growth. Your fans, my dear friend, are no different."
He gestured towards the fan, drawing Nie Huaisang's attention to the layers of paint that told a story of evolution. "See, as each layer fades, it makes room for the next. Like the changing seasons, and the emergence of new generations, your fans too will be reborn. Just like how the seasons pass, they inevitably return in a new and better year. They carry the echoes of their past, yet they embrace the potential for a fresh canvas."
Nie Huaisang, still cradling the fan, looked up at San-Ye with a mix of appreciation and melancholy. "San-Ye, your words are as poetic as the paintings you create."
San-Ye smiled gently. "Art, my friend, is a reflection of life's impermanence. Just as a fallen leaf gives rise to a new bud, so does each layer of paint on your fans. Embrace the transient beauty, for in the face of change, a new masterpiece is waiting to unfold."
Nie Huaisang sighed again, a mixture of sorrow and acceptance. As San-Ye continued to share his wisdom, the atmosphere in the fan shop began to shift. The destruction of the painting on the fan became a poignant reminder of the cycles of creation and renewal.
Da Ye chimed in, “Basically, it’s not that deep!”
*
After the repair session, Nie Huaisang left the fan shop with his restored fans. The siblings bid him farewell, promising to craft a few extra fans for him as a backup. Nie Huaisang strolled through the bustling streets of Qinghe, contemplating the newfound resilience of his fans.
The incident with Wang Lingjiao might have left his fans battered, but it also inspired a sense of pride in Nie Huaisang. His fans had faced adversity and emerged stronger – much like himself, he mused.
However, the threat of the Wens still loomed over his head. I was lucky enough to escape this time, but would I be so lucky next time? Maybe I should work on developing my golden core… but I don’t want to touch any sabres. Haha, considering how much danger we were in, maybe turning my fan into a spiritual weapon wouldn’t be such a bad idea…
He quickly shook his head. No, that’s such a silly idea. What am I even talking about? Literally no one has attempted that…
Yet, as he walked, Er-Ye’s joke lingered in his mind. What if he could indeed turn his fans into a unique form of defence? Maybe they could be a spiritual weapon. Perhaps, with the help of the fan shop siblings, he could integrate some sort of reinforcement or protection into the fans. That way, they would not only be symbols of elegance but also carry a hidden strength.
*
Nie Huaisang couldn’t get the idea out of his head.
So what if no one had done it before?
Every idea started from someone’s wildest imagination.
Now he was seriously considering the idea. He remembered the book Jiang Cheng was holding during one of their many night escapades - the one about spiritual weapons. Maybe that would have some guidance for Nie Huaisang.
Committed to exploring his idea in its entirety, he set out to locate a bookshop. However, just as he was ready to depart, a gravely alarmed messenger burst into the room.
Nie Huaisang, noticing his distress, became alert.
“What’s happened?”
The messenger took a shaky breath, before delivering the news that shook Nie Huaisang to his core.
“...Lotus Pier has fallen.”