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Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian never got the hang of his own body. 

He didn't mind the scars, at least the ones on his torso.  He enjoyed how strong he was once he'd built up his golden core, and the flow of moving through sword forms a little too fast, with a little too much power behind his blows. But otherwise, his was an annoying body. 

Some days his body could make him feel queasy and creature-like, like someone had shoved his soul into a half-dead mess which didn't fit, and he had outgrown the shape of his body. He tried to wash the feeling away by swimming under the wooden walkways to more private sections of the lake, scrubbing at his skin with coarse mud until he felt a little more real, skin raw.  On other days Wei Wuxian could wash his small breasts and lady bits in a well-lit room, without feeling anything more than slight curiosity about what a proper woman's breasts might feel like in his hands, wondering about the clench of their cunt around his fingers. 

Jiang-shushu hadn't minded much when, a few months after finding a little boy called Wei Ying on the streets, he'd found out that Wei Ying's body wasn't right. Jiang-shushu just nodded when Wei Ying explained that he was boy, but also being a girl wasn't very safe, but that was okay because he was happier being a boy anyway.  After an awkward few days when Jiang-shushu had told Wei Ying to consider if he wanted to be Jiang Yanli's shimei instead of shidi, he'd never mentioned it again except in the most awkward obfuscations imaginable. 

Madame Yu had been firmly in favour of Wei Ying being a boy. 

"Of course, he's a boy, Fengmian. Just look at him," she'd said, with that sneer she had for muddy footprints, cold tea, and Wei Ying in particular. "I certainly won't look kindly on you if you ask me to turn him into a girl, out of some twisted sense of propriety. What would the Jin think if suddenly the boy everyone knows you took in was sharing rooms and lessons with A'Li?" 

Wei Ying didn't want to be a girl for another reason then, because he was a little scared of being around Madame Yu, and if he was a girl then she would be in charge of him as the Mistress of Lotus Pier. That sounded awful, and Jiang Yanli was still his Shijie either way. 

When Wei Wuxian was a little older, floating half-hidden by tall reeds, he would watch the other boys of Lotus Pier swim naked and talk about sex. He was welcome to join them, he was a boy after all, but sometimes it was easier to let his mind drift over problems like the flood barrier talisman arrays while listening to the noise and activity of other people, swimming and ducking and kicking whenever he got stuck. 

(His shidis and shixiongs didn't mind that Wei Wuxian didn't swim naked with them. Enough had seen the edges of his scars, and for all that Liu Zhibo was very encouraging, no one bullied him about hiding his body from the other boys and men.)

He didn't find the talk about sex very interesting. It was informative, but not very distracting. It was easy to keep his mind on whatever problem he was gnawing at, or at least not more difficult than in any other location (which was quite difficult, because there were so many thoughts to have, and not nearly enough daylight to have them all in, but Wei Wuxian didn't get hard and stupid talking about sex, not like the other boys).

He wasn't sure if that was because his body wasn't like other boys, or because listening to Zeng Mingtian talking about kissing Gu Shan, (whose mother was one of the leatherworkers in Lotus Cove, but Wei Wuxian knew Zeng Mingtian had never spoken to), was more embarrassing than titillating. Wei Wuxian preferred talking to Gu Shan himself, flicking his ponytail in a way which made her blush, and maybe teasing his fingers right on the edge of her worktable, so they could touch if she chose to reach out.  

Wei Wuxian liked flirting with the market girls, and he was rather good at it too. He had fun, but kisses or anything more would probably be bad, in ways Wei Wuxian couldn't even pin down. Madame Yu would likely take very immediate and violent responsibility for him, if Wei Wuxian started seducing maidens, or worse, young shidis. 

Wei Wuxian wasn't scared of his body, although he was a little terrified of pregnancy. Babies were very fragile, and when the wind was still, he could hear women screaming from the birthing hut across the water. His place for all of that didn't bleed often, which he was thankful for, although Shijie was a little worried about it (she was much better at tracking the moons than he ever was). When that place was bleeding, shoving two fingers into it and grinding helplessly for as long as he could stand made the pain feel a lot easier to bear for a while. Watching the blood swirl away from his fingers into the river was nice too, like he was giving his excess Yin to the river. 

The only times he played with himself which felt easier, not a frantic and confusing fight, his confusing body demanding things he didn't want to give it, was when he watched some of his shixiong fuck. Watching older boys was okay, because that was what boys did, and if they didn't want to be seen they wouldn't fuck in public.

Liu Zhibo and Tang Junjie had a specific place they went, mostly hidden by clustering bamboo, but close enough to the sword practice grounds that everyone knew what they were doing. They liked to get their hands and mouths on each other. Liu Zhibo was all desperate speed and thrashing desire, for the first round just after practice, but they were both slower for their usual second go, once they'd calmed down a little. Liu Zhibo usually talked about girls, while Tang Junjie was sucking on Liu Zhibo's cock, fucking into his own fist. Tang Junjie looked pained, whenever he made himself come, but Liu Zhibo flopped over laughing, relaxed and joyful, and just as likely to drop kisses in Tang Junjie's hair as push him into the river. 

It looked like fun.

Wei Wuxian was pretty sure he had never made himself climax. He was probably touching himself wrong, but he wasn't going to watch girls, not even if he paid for them.

Climax sounded dramatic, and looked almost painful when Tang Junjie yanked it out of himself. That wasn't much like the intangible relief Wei Wuxian felt when he used his fingers inside, even if it spent so long at the task that his fingers were wrinkled like dried plums. 

He wasn't sure what climax even looked like, for girls' bodies, because he'd never managed to spurt like the boys did, and he wasn't as sloppily relaxed as they were after either. He never reached a point of not being able to touch himself anymore, not like Liu Zhibo who would start whining and pushing Tang Junjie away. Although sometimes the uncomfortable feeling of his own body ripped through to the front of his mind, the wrongness sudden and sharp, and he had to stop (or keep going with silent tears running down his face). Or when he got a cramp in his fingering hand.

It would be different if he had a cock, like the boys. Jiang Cheng's cock was nice. Not too big, and not easily excited (Jiang Cheng didn't disappear for a few minutes after sword practice nearly as often as most of the shidis), so it looked perfect for Wei Wuxian. He wanted a cock like that one, not like the one tucked up in his body, that he squeezed between two fingertips hoping that this time it might change. 

The first time Wei Wuxian thought he might have climaxed, was very almost sure he had, was at the Cloud Recesses. Nie-xiong's books had been very inspiring, and he had a toy as well, which he had smirked about after showing Wei Wuxian, and certainly knew he had 'borrowed'. It was shaped more like a crane's curving head and neck than a prick, made of polished and waxed wood. The toy felt good pressed inside. Very good. Wei Wuxian liked having something inside him to press on strange places especially behind his dick, his hands more free to touch his cock. It felt even better to clutch the flared end of Nie-xiong's toy between his thighs while his thoughts wandered, imagining someone on their knees in front of him, taking him in their mouth.

(Nie-xiong would definitely have arranged for Wei Wuxian to watch women pleasure themselves, if he had ever mentioned the problem of not quite knowing what to do with himself, but the Cloud Recesses was hardly the place to find beautiful women to watch and Wei Wuxian wasn't sure that challenging Nie-xiong would go well for him. It was much more fun to gossip about girls, and bluster about how Nie-xiong was very fun, but he wasn't interested in sharing hands because Wei Wuxian was desperately in love with someone named A'Ping in Lotus Cove, so he couldn't possibly betray her by trying things with Nie-xiong after the Lans fell asleep.)

Wei Wuxian still didn't want to anyone to touch him. 

He wouldn't mind touching a pretty girl, or a maybe playing with a boy with an open mouth in the lake, or even taking Nie-xiong into his mouth to see why Tang Junjie liked it so much. (He even imagined he was Tang Junjie, who was sucking Wei Wuxian's cock behind the bamboo, a thought that tangled around his feet like water weed dragging him under.) 

But he didn't want someone to open his robes and see that he was wrong. He didn't want to disappoint a girl (or even Nie-xiong who would likely be very dramatic about it all), unable to provide what they might want. It didn't matter much. Wei Wuxian was never going to marry, even if Madame Yu would champion him as a groom. He hardly wanted to see a woman, his wife, looking down at him with confusion and displeasure through the red of a veil. 

It didn't matter much. 

After the fall of Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian stopped touching himself. He stopped bleeding, in the Burial Mounds, which was both a relief and a thorned bramble in his belly. 

He didn't even get the urge to touch himself after the Burial Mounds, or perhaps it was after Lotus Pier burnt. 

He didn't need to twist on his fingers for pain relief, either, not that there was time for that. Most people's Sunshot Campaign had rest spots, and slow periods, when a section of the armies were entrenched somewhere, waiting. Wei Wuxian's war wasn't like that. There was always something more to do, and somewhere else to be, and more ghosts to listen to as they whispered resentful secrets of the Wen they had been or the Wen that had killed them. There were always more corpses to raise, and no time for thought.

Of course, there wasn't anyone to watch either. Liu Zhibo had died. Tang Junjie was vicious in battle, almost feral, likely bite anyone who put their cock in his mouth.   

Wei Wuxian was so full of resentful energy that he scared the entire Jianghu into calling him a demonic cultivator, but his body was collapsing, Yin shedding off him like the dirty blood that no longer came. 

The voices of the Burial Mounds, and the resentful energy that swirled through him, keeping his shattered bones together in something resembling a human shape, kept trying to be helpful. The energy would twist away from his control, when he got distracted, and try to remake the rest of his body into the shape he knew it should be. 

Of course, he had no ability to store the Yang energy his body might need to finish the task. It was almost funny.

Chapter Text

Waking up in possession of Mo Xuanyu's body was very strange. The body was both extremely easy to slip into, like a shoe worn to the shape of his foot, and deeply uncomfortable at other times. 

Wei Wuxian was sure he hadn't been a cutsleeve, back in his old body. He would have followed through on Nie-xiong's very obvious flirtations if he had been. Watching his shixiong fuck had just been one of those things that boys did, especially one like him, because he was curious. But Mo Xuanyu was a cutsleeve, or had been, and his body was a cutsleeve body, so Wei Wuxian was a cutsleeve now. Probably. Maybe. It was hard to tell, really.

It was rather fun to pretend, even if he wasn't. The way Lan Wangji ignored all his ridiculous flirtations and grasping hands, compliments yelled from the back of Little Apple was hilarious.  The Lan juniors became increasingly concerned for either 'Mo-gongzi's mental state, or Lan Wangji's virtue was even better. 

As a strategy to secure his escape it wasn't working, because Wei Wuxian was still being forcibly taken to the Cloud Recesses, but he was trying.

He really could do with some privacy though. He hadn't had nearly enough time to explore Mo Xuanyu's body, and camping with a Lan on guard (however junior) made him awkwardly unwilling to spend the time he needed to drop his trousers and explore Mo Xuanyu's almost-constantly erect prick.

Mo Xuanyu's body was definitely more interested in sex than Wei Wuxian's had ever been. It had to be more interested than most men. There was no way this was normal.

To finally have a cock was stranger than Wei Wuxian had thought it would be. It got hard whenever it liked, even when Wei Wuxian wasn't thinking about anything sexy. It flopped between his legs, and pressed against his thigh, and he could feel it moving as he walked. The feeling was amazing, but also very new, and Wei Wuxian had got into the habit of flirting outrageously with Lan Wangji whenever his body was doing something particularly awkward, so at least if he was blushing, everyone would assume it was on purpose. 

Mo Xuanyu's cock was uncontrollable. It popped up all on its own, every morning, and after exercise, and whenever Wei Wuxian's mind wandered, and often when he was thinking about food, or the shape of a tree trunk. Riding Little Apple was a very frustrating prospect. 

The cock popping up whenever it liked was fun, and tantalising, and distracted him from the prospect of being marched to the Cloud Recesses in a stolen body, a suspected demonic cultivator. But he didn't have any privacy to explore it further, with all the Lans about.

Aside from the cock and its strangeness, there was a certain level of familiarity of being in Mo Xuanyu's body. He felt awkwardly weak, like the glimmer of golden core in Mo Xuanyu's belly should take up more space. Wei Wuxian knew hunger, just like this body did. Wei Wuxian moved his hips in the same way as Mo Xuanyu did. Mo Xuanyu's body felt easy to laugh in, even though he was rather sure Mo Xuanyu hadn't laughed often at all. 

It was sad too. He wasn't sure, because Mo Xuanyu hadn't exactly left good notes, but it would have been better if Wei Wuxian had been alive, with his own body, and they'd been able to switch. Mo Xuanyu liked boys, and makeup, and wanted to be pretty, and was passably good at demonic cultivation. Wei Wuxian in his old body had liked girls, hated even the idea of dressing pretty, and was extremely good at making himself useful with ghosts and corpses. They would have done quite well in each other's bodies. 

It wasn't fair that Mo Xuanyu didn't get to have the body he wanted, not that it was fair to Wei Wuxian to be trapped in a new body and dragged up a mountain, but at least he finally got a chance to have his very own cock, even if it was very easily excited. 

Wei Wuxian hadn't appreciating being slung over Lan Wangji's shoulder and dragged to the Cloud Recesses to be imprisoned in Lan Wangji's rooms, but Mo Xuanyu's body had. 

Lan Wangji's body was hard, which meant Wei Wuxian's new cock was hard, pressed against Lan Wangji's firm chest. Every sensation of them rubbing together was like a bright light going off in his face, startling, before it softened to background distraction. Except each distraction was layering on the ones before, so it wasn't so much background distraction as everything distraction. Every little bit of his skin was on fire with wanting. 

It went on for so long. All the way from the gates of the Cloud Recesses to Lan Wangji's home in the Jingshi, their bodies touching, his dick crushed against Lan Wangji's firm chest even as it kept getting harder, trying to burrow into Lan Wangji, probably, the traitorous thing. 

Lan Wangji ignoring him, for all that Wei Wuxian was whining in his ears, begging to be let go, to walk himself, to go back to Caiyi. His hard cock was aching, uncomfortably squished. His face was probably as red as good wedding robes.

"Please," Wei Wuxian begged, "just let me go. I'll walk. No running in the Cloud Recesses, I know. I won't run."

"No," Lan Wangji said, his big hand holding Wei Wuxian's thigh still. His thumb was on the inside edge of his thigh. Close to his new balls. Close to his arse. Close to--

How was Lan Wangji pretending not to notice when Wei Wuxian's erection was as firm as jade, rubbing against his firm pecs? Was this a cutsleeve problem? Did Lan Wangji not notice because Wei Wuxian wasn't a girl? Was that why he didn't care that he was carrying around a cutsleeve who was so lustful he was ready to fuck Lan Zhan's armpit? 

The juniors and any other bothersome Lans were left behind when Lan Wangji carried him into the Jingshi. It was silent. Wei Wuxian had stopped begging, instead he was just hanging over Lan Wangji's shoulder, waiting. 

By the time Lan Wangji dropped Wei Wuxian on his own bed, Wei Wuxian's body was feeling insane. 

He didn't know what to do with how shakingly intense every breath he took felt. The movement of his own clothing across his skin, across the outrageous pressure of his cock, was enough to make him feel a little mad. He wiggled on the bed, just to feel the movement of his own clothes across his cock, a rush of relief that the pressure of being pressed against Lan Zhan had disappeared, and desperation. He wanted more. This body was just like the most annoying young shidi, tugged around by his hard prick.

There was nothing else to do, but keep going. 

He was Mo-gongzi, shameless cutsleeve, and Lan Wangji would definitely give up on him very soon. 

"Hanguang-jun is a bully," Wei Wuxian muttered. He really wanted to get his hand on his cock, so he threw his arms wide across the bed, like he was on display. 

"Hm?"

"He is!" Wei Wuxian insisted. "He carries cutsleeves through the Cloud Recesses and throws them down on his bed, without even bothering to ask if they would prefer to fuck standing up."

"Would you?" Lan Wangji said, his voice slow. "Prefer to fuck standing up."

The man was just looking at him.

Wei Wuxian couldn't tell what it meant. It was as familiar as the scornful dismissal Lan Wangji had thrown at him back in his own body, like he was being disected.

But worse.

More. 

"You're a bully!" Wei Wuxian repeated. 

"Hm." 

"You agree with me. I knew it. You'd better stop, Lan-er-gongzi."

"Why?"

It was as if Lan Wangji was peeling the clothes off Wei Wuxian's body with his imagination, to see his body underneath. Like he was peeling Mo Xuanyu's body off Wei Wuxian's soul, to see the dirty mess of him under the smooth pretty skin of Mo Xuanyu--

"Why?" Wei Wuxian repeated. He couldn't think properly.

"Why should I stop?"

"Because--" he said, whining, squirming under Lan Wangji's gaze. "Because I don't like it."

"You like it," Lan Zhan said, curious. His eyes were on Wei Wuxian's hard cock, the shape of it poking through his messy robes. 

Wei Wuxian bit his lip. Mo Xuanyu's lip. This would never have happened in his old body. His old body wasn't like this. Not desperate. Not a cutsleeve. His old body hadn't felt Lan Zhan's eyes like it was fingers stroking him everywhere all at once.

"Because if you don't stop bullying me, I'll come!"   

Lan Zhan's eyebrow twitched, a moment of annoyance. It was like his face was haunted by the ghostly remnants of every disapproving Lan who had ever carved a new rule into the wall. It was just like the expression he'd had when they were young, and couldn't be bothered to articulate exactly why Wei Wuxian was a disappointment this time. 

Wei Wuxian didn't know it would happen. 

He didn't know how to stop it.

Everything was too hot.  

Lan Wangji's eyes dragged down Wei Wuxian's body. It felt like fingers across his skin, under his skin, all over his mind. 

His whole body shivered and shuddered. He bucked up into the air, like he was chasing that gaze because it wasn't quite enough but it was--

He moaned, his hands grabbing at the bedding, his body twisting in place.

Wei Wuxian dropped. Limp on Lan Wangji's bed. 

Oh. 

Oh.

Was that what climax felt like? Wow. No wonder Liu Zhibo and Tang Junjie had done it all the time.

Wei Wuxian definitely had never managed that in his original body.

Lan Wangji's made a single shocked and aborted "hm?" noise as he looked down at him. 

Wei Wuxian could not meet his eyes. 

What a disappointment he must be. A pervert. What kind of self respecting demonic cultivator comes in his pants because his enemy looks at him with stern disinterest? 

Wei Wuxian can never let Lan Wangji know he's Wei Wuxian. Not ever. Not just because being Wei Wuxian, Yiling Laozu, is a problem, but because he'd never be able to look him in the eye again. 

Everyone knows that Mo Xuanyu was so perverted, such a lustful cutsleeve as to get himself thrown out of Jinlintai, which surely must be an impossible feat, to be too sexual for the Lanling Jin. Mo Xuanyu must have inherited his father's sexual appetites, if not their type, because it's can't be normal for a man to come just from being looked at, by someone who thinks you shameful, and might want you dead.

Wei Wuxian will never get used to this body.  

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian absolutely loved Mo Xuanyu's body. It was so needy. It got desperate and whining, and Lan Zhan loved bullying him through climaxes until he was bucking against nothing, and his cock wouldn't rise, and pressing his fingers deep against that spot inside him just made him cry and shiver, every drop of come already split, even as he kept trying to release more. 

(He's come to the conclusion that his old body probably didn't like sex very much, or that having the right parts just made everything so much easier.)

Lan Zhan loved Wei Wuxian, and apparently didn't care at all about what body he was in, but did care, quite a lot, about what was inserted into his body. Which is why when Wei Wuxian finally wore him down, with a sequence of increasingly elaborate dreams in the incense burner about how good it would be if there were two Lan Zhans, so that Wei Wuxian could have one in his arse and one in his mouth at the same time, Lan Zhan finally gave in.

The first time he mentioned it was after he had tried to bring his old body into the incense burner dream, but it hadn't worked right. Instead there had been Wei Wuxian in his original body, if he had all the right parts, without an extra hole to fuck, with a Wei Wuxian-flavoured Mo Xuanyu and Lan Wangji, who had been very enthusiastic when one took his mouth and the other his arse.

"I don't want anyone but you," Wei Wuxian said, licking his way up Lan Zhan's thighs to get off the last of their mutual nocturnal mess, "I just want to know if--"

Lan Zhan pet the side of his face, his fingers splayed wide to hold his jaw. 

"What?"

"I want to know--the incense burner is fun, but I want to know if it's real."

"Hm." Lan Zhan said, tucking a thumb into Wei Wuxian's mouth, pressing against his teeth. "Who?"

Wei Wuxian sucked, and licked, and finally Lan Zhan pulled away enough for him to speak.

"Tang Junjie? Although he lost a leg during the Sunshot Campaign so that might affect logistics. He can't teach sword forms or even moving meditation anymore, so that has to be a balance problem. I think he would say yes."

"No."

"He's really good with his mouth," Wei Wuxian promised. "Not that I know, personally, but he likes being watched so I've seen."

"We are not asking one of Jiang Wanyin's disciples."

"Nie-xiong?" Wei Wuxian said, even as he chased Lan Zhan's fingers with his tongue. 

"Hm." 

Lan Zhan fucked Wei Wuxian's mouth with two fingers. Deep and hard and relentless. He spent so long on the task that Wei Wuxian was struggling to hold himself up, his arms shaking. Wei Wuxian couldn't see through his blurry tears, just taking it, Lan Zhan's other hand holding his chin still.  

"Yes," Lan Zhan said. Wei Wuxian was trying to grind his cock against Lan Zhan's immovable thigh, but he couldn't quite reach. Mean. Cruel.  "Nie-zongzhu can fuck Wei Ying's mouth."

Wei Wuxian drooled, trying to nod, his throat spasming around Lan Zhan's fingers. Lan Zhan wrapped his other hand around Wei Wuxian's throat to feel the movement, the shape of himself inside. 

Wei Wuxian taught some tiny Lans that day, sipping on cold tea whenever he needed to cough. Lan Gu asked very politely if he had a sore throat, and needed to see Lan-daifu.

Nie Huaisang pretended he had no idea what and why and with whom Wei Wuxian might be asking for an 'interpersonal favour', because really, him? Everyone knows that Nie Huaisang is no great lover, just an appreciator of fine and beautiful things, honestly. His eyes kept dropping to Wei Wuxian's mouth, though, and his fluttering fan kept brushing against Wei Wuxian's arm or thigh or waist in increasingly tantalising ways while he talked nonsense about finding good cherry wood for carving.

"I'm not asking for much, Nie-xiong," Wei Wuxian pleaded. "I just want to know if swallowing your cock while Lan Zhan fucks me open is harder than it is in my dreams."

Nie Huaisang's lips twitched, so Wei Wuxian dropped to his knees to improve the particular quality of his pleading. 

"It's always too easy in my dreams," he said, tugging at the corner of his lips with one finger. "In my dreams, I don't gag at all. But Lan Zhan likes it when I can't breathe, he's huge, of course it's hard to breath. I like it too, and I only have this idea because of the book you showed me when we were teens, you know. I was perfectly unsullied, my mind innocent, until you so rudely put such thoughts of being fucked by multiple men in my mind. Won't you take responsibility, Nie-zongzhu?"

Nie Huaisang sighed, like he had never been asked for such an onerous task. 

"So long as you stop telling me how big Lan-er-gongzi's cock is if he's not going to use it on me."

Nie Huaisang followed Wei Wuxian home to the Jingshi that night, which was very appropriately named, given the layering of muffling talismans and silencing arrays carved into each window.  

Lan Zhan was in charge of direction. 

He got Wei Wuxian all worked up, begging, pleading, showing off for their audience who was politely (for Nie Huaisang) waiting his turn. 

"Am I allowed to look?" Wei Wuxian asked, nipping at Lan Zhan's fingertips. 

"Am I allowed to look?" Nie Huaisang muttered, twisting his head like he was searching for a better angle. 

Lan Zhan nodded. 

He turned Wei Wuxian so he was trapped in his arms, his back to Lan Zhan's front, looking straight at Nie Huaisang. Lan Zhan got his hands under Wei Wuxian's robes, more dishevelment than undressing, opening some, pushing a layer up, yanking another down, while he rocked his covered erection against Wei Wuxian's arse with intent. 

Nie Huaisang was very precise as he undressed, fussy like Lan Zhan could be, so Wei Wuxian stopped whining and let himself be manhandled, undressed, watching the show. He drapped his robes so they wouldn't crease. He folded his under garments. When he took off his shirt, the fabric caught on something underneath, metal shining as it was revealed.

There was jewelry on his nipples. The nipples were erect, swollen with blood, with green jade beads dangling from a short length of chain. 

"How?" Wei Wuxian asked, rocking forward for a closer look. Lan Zhan's hands on his body held him still, trapped, his arms tangled up in his own sleeves because Lan Zhan hadn't finished undressing him.

Nie Huaisang took a single step forward, not close enough to touch, and flicked one jewel with his finger. His face shuddered, his mouth open, and his hips thrust forward once.

"They're little clamps, see," he said, "they screw tighter if I want them to."

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian moaned, as Lan Zhan pinched both his nipples at once, tight, hard, the nails he kept long for guqin meaning the right nipple was so much more painful than the left, sharp enough to make him yelp.

Nie Huaisang stepped forward, and finally got his hand on Wei Wuxian's cheek, the back of his neck, tugging through his hair, and directed his head so Wei Wuxian could get that jeweled nipple in his mouth. Wei Wuxian flicked his tongue over the metal, the jade clinking against his teeth. It was warm. When he pressed down with his lips Nie-xiong gasped. When he sucked, Nie-xiong swore, his hand tight in Wei Wuxian's hair. 

"Good?" Lan Zhan asked.

Wei Wuxian nodded, tugging at Nie-xiong's nipple and the jewelry, and the clamp slipped just a little between his teeth so he stopped moving. 

Nie-xiong laughed, his chest moving. Wei Wuxian hummed, not letting go of the prize in his mouth, even as Lan Zhan got the last of his clothes off.

Then Lan Zhan's big fingers were inside him, and Nie-xiong pulled his nipple away from Wei Wuxian's mouth, the jewel dragged across his tongue. 

He moved, which was mean. Wei Wuxian got him here, and he just wanted him in his mouth. Nie-xiong didn't have to move, just so he could look properly at where Lan Zhan was opening him up. He was being too slow. Performing. Lan Zhan pulled back so just the tip of one finger was tracing slow circles around his hole. 

Wei Wuxian whined. He knew he was whining. Was it too much to ask for one of these men to fuck him already? 

"Please, Lan Zhan, Nie-xiong, you're being so mean."

Nie-xiong shoved two fingers into his mouth, which wasn't the right thing to shove in his mouth. His cock was right there. Surely he wanted his cock sucked more than his fingers? 

Wei Wuxian proved he could suck fingers almost as good, except Lan Zhan was being mean again. Sometimes he dragged a finger around his hole, or down to his balls, and then he'd thrust it relentless, deep, sudden, curling up against that spot with--oh fuck-- his long fingernails, scraping inside. 

Wei Wuxian stilled. A stuttering moment of not knowing what he was doing, but then Nie-xiong was curling his fingers, nails clicking against his teeth. Matching.

Nie-xiong is impatient. He doesn't ask, or wait, or do more than pull his spit-covered fingers from Wei Wuxian's mouth, drag them down his cheek, and push his cock into Wei Wuxian's open mouth.

That--good. Different. His tongue can reach different places. His lips aren't quite as stretched at the corners, not like Lan Zhan. Nie-xiong also doesn't wait. 

He just started fucking, holding Wei Wuxian steady with a hand on the back of his neck. 

His eyes were watering by the time Lan Zhan joined in, fucked into him, too fast, all at once. The stretch familiar and wanted and perfect. 

Nie-xiong stuttered a little, when Lan Zhan took over moving Wei Wuxian between them, but he just yanked at Wei Wuxian's hair until he was back in place. Open. Sucking. Empty then not empty and please, never empty again. 

Full. Wanted and needed and held safe. 

His mind was empty. 

"Wei Ying likes your jewelry," Lan Zhan said, thrusting steadily. 

"The artisan could make some for him," Nie Huaisang said, over Wei Wuxian's head. 

Wei Wuxian didn't care. They could talk all they liked, the thrill of being seen and centered and ignored all at once was tangling his mind, catching loose thoughts and dragging them into the swirling center of his wants which was blank. Empty. A sucking void of need. 

His mouth was full. His eyes closed and wet, moisture spilling onto his cheeks. Lan Zhan was being so careful as he thrust. More. Faster. Please. 

Wei Wuxian whined, humming around Nie-xiong.

"Hm."

Someone wiped tears from his face, and then slipped their thumb into his mouth.  

"Would you rather blue beads, or white?"

"Hm," Lan Zhan said, pulling Wei Wuxian back onto his cock.

"Yeah," Nie-xiong said, as he chased Wei Wuxian's mouth. Slower now. Steady. Rocking gently, into Wei Wuxian's open self, held still in his hands.

Everything was so good. 

Wei Wuxian dropped away into nothingness. 

"Well," Nie-xiong said, as he breathed heavily, half collapsed across Wei Wuxian's thighs, "that was fun. Was it a one-time offer?"

Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Zhan, whose hands were gripping his waist tight enough to bruise, and then forcing himself to let go, his breathing laboured as he rested his hands without holding tight. 

Jealous Lan Zhan was very fun.

"I'll let you know," Wei Wuxian promised, laughing, even as Lan Zhan gave in to the urge to take Wei Wuxian away, throwing him over his shoulder as though Wei Wuxian was going to run away to the Nie.  

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji knew what grief was like. 

He had grieved Wei Ying for thirteen years already. He would grieve him again, until his own death. 

Wei Ying had been laughing when he died.

That was a better memory than his first death. (Unless, of course, the death of Wei Wuxian's first body had been his second death, the first death alone and screaming as he splattered in the Burial Mounds.)  

The first months after Wei Ying's death were lonely, but expected. 

Lan Sizhui was polite, and helpful, and kept close to Lan Wangji, never going off for a nighthunt which would see him travelling for more than four days. Lan Jingyi organised Wei Wuxian's younger students into making calligraphy projects to 'decorate' Lan Wangji's office and home. Xiongzhang insisted on eating breakfast together every morning, the Hanshi also silent, but less haunted; Xichen talked about nothing, and was almost as good as Wei Ying had been at interpreting his almost silent 'hm'.

It was normal, now, again, for the Jingshi to be silent. 

Every night for three moons Lan Wangji journeyed out of the wards to play Inquiry. He didn't hear Wei Ying. He settled new ghosts, and meeting nostalgic old spirits who remembered Wei Ying, who had never pushed them to move on. That was enough proof that the sensation of someone else moving around him, living in the Jingshi, was only in his mind. 

The months after were worse. Normal. Familiar. 

It was normal for Lan Sizhui to once again spend a month away from the Cloud Recesses without returning, slipping back into the promised year of relative freedom before he official took on the role of Lan-zongzhu. The timeline for his succession had changed, interrupted and thrown away, when Wei Ying died.  Lan Wangji had wanted to give up his duties for the promise of having an after, but now there was no tempting imagining of a quiet cottage with Wei Ying and no one close enough to hear him whimper. Lan Wangji didn't mind continuing his sect duties for as long as Lan Sizhui wanted.

Lan Qiren offered tea warmly, without that look on his face that was both pinched with frustration, and sometimes amused. There was no longer a tug of Lan Zhan's affection for Wei Ying pitted against Lan Qiren's inevitable ire and grudging respect. Xiongzhang still made time for breakfast every day, but filled the space afterwards with mundane questions which required answers, instead of letting him be silent, in company. Wei Wuxian's students still smiled at Lan Wangji, but not stop their animated childish conversations, or pause in grief with him.  

When Nie-zongzhu imperiously summoned Lan Wangji to Qinghe, he went. At least it would be different. At least Nie Huaisang missed Wei Ying earnestly, for himself, not just for his importance to Lan Wangji. 

Nie Huaisang wasn't subtle, not with Lan Wangji. He pushed Lan Wangji to stay in Wei Ying's rooms. (There were explosion dampening properties buried in the stone, although the silencing talismans had to be actively applied, with the idea that hearing an explosion was probably a good safety feature). Lan Wangji spent his days sorting through Wei Ying's papers and experiments, because he had always been enthusiastically creative when he was in Qinghe. 

Every day after a shared meal Nie Huaisang asked if Lan Wangji wanted to fuck. 

Lan Wangji did not want to fuck. 

Nie Huaisang didn't care much. He'd offer, and then shrug, and go entertain himself with whichever lover had been eating with them. 

"Lan-xiong," Nei Huaisang murmured, a few weeks into his stay, sloppy and drunk. His breath smelt of alcohol, and his sloppy arms wrapped around Lan Wangji's waist was the first time he had been touched in months. "Stay?" he asked.

His lover of the night had spent dinner on their knees, being fed from Nie Huaisang's chopsticks. "You don't have--you can watch. Just watch."

Lan Wangji stayed.  

The lover was beautiful, flushed and nervous and shaking to be on display, for all that they were enthusiastic. Nie-zongzhu sat behind them, spreading his legs so the lover was nestled between. He didn't rush. He spent time petting his lover, just the edge of fingertips slipping under layers, teasing. 

Lan Wangji looked at the lover's fingers, pressed flat on the floor between their opening legs, like they needed to brace against Nie Huaisang's touch.

Nie Huaisang was generous. With his touch, with the kisses he placed along his lover's neck, with the looks he kept giving to Lan Wangji, offering, willing. As though Lan Wangji wanted just anyone between them, instead of being able to tolerate sharing the occasional morsel of Wei Ying's attention because it had made Wei Ying so gloriously, exhaustedly happy. 

The lover's genitals were finally exposed, and Lan Wangji was a little surprised that the lover had a cock. He hadn't been sure, but the lover was dressed in feminine robes, and he had expected something else. Perhaps they were like Wei Wuxian had been, the first time, in the body he was born to.   

The lover's cock was small, but very hard. Nie Huaisang rested his thumb along its length, his fingers cupping the lover's balls. 

His lover whined, and Nie Huaisang shushed him.

That wasn't right. 

The two of them had never shushed Wei Ying. Sometimes they wrecked him so thoroughly with pain and pleasure and overwhelming want that he lost his voice, but they never quieted him. 

Lan Wangji stood, adjusting his erection. He bowed, more to the lover than Nie-zongzhu, and left. 

Lan Wangji mentally apologised to whoever was in charge of the Nie Sect supplies and sundries, as he slipped a pair of metal chopsticks into his sleeve.

He undressed fully, settling into a meditative pose in Wei Ying's rooms. His erection was insistent, greedy, obnoxiously large. Unwelcome. 

What he did next was his own affair, for all that his memories of Wei Ying were disappointed. "Lan-er-gege," the thought of him pleaded, as he prepared himself, "why are you playing without me?" 

Nie-zongzhu's voice joined, a mental twitch, a soft "Lan Wangji," in his mind, "I know you don't like this." 

Which wasn't true. Nie-zongzhu didn't know what what Lan Wangji liked or didn't. Not everything. There were moments Lan Wangji hoarded away from anyone's gaze. There were experiments and laughing failures in the safety of Wei Ying's gaze, which no one but him would ever remember now.  

His hands smelt of hemp oil, and he diligently coated the pointed tip of the metal chopstick. A slick dribble of oil smeared across the tip of his penis, dripping into the slit.  

He focused. His attention was on slowly inserting the chopstick into his penis, cun by cun. He twisted it a little, every ten breaths, to make sure he was not hurting himself. Before very long, it was deep inside him. 

If Wei Ying was here, he would have laughed at the idea of Lan Wangji sitting by himself, trying to chase away loneliness and want by fucking his dick. 

If Wei Ying was here, he would have demanded that Lan Wangji do it to him, because it had been so long, Lan-er-gege, what if something's crawled into my penis and needs to be chased out by the mighty Hanguang-jun!

Lan Wangji breathed, focusing on the sensations within his penis, as well as the shape and weight of it in his hand. 

His mental apparition of Nie Huaisang was right. Lan Wangji didn't like this. 

It was too much sensation, and not enough in the right places. It was overwhelming, even as all he could feel was the warm wood floor beneath his buttocks, his hand holding his penis steady, and the immovable metal inside his shaft. 

He had to be still, precise, even though lust was mixing with grief. No. He didn't want lust.

It was so much easier to be angry. To be angry at Wei Ying for dying. At Nie Huaisang for trying to welcome him. At Xichen, for not missing Wei Ying. He was angry at the scared child who had screamed at just the right moment to distract Wei Ying. 

He would rather anger to what was underneath. Desperation and loneliness. The sinking emptiness of knowing he would have to grieve again, as though from the beginning. 

Stillness. Precision. Meditation. 

Lan Wangji focused on moving energy from his golden core, up through his penis, focusing on the metal inside him. 

If he could overwhelm himself enough perhaps he could forget, for a moment, that he was alone. 

Chapter Text

Jin Ying had been looking forward to the Lan lecture series in the Cloud Recesses for years. 

It was a chance to see if there really was a secret section of the Lan library filled with 'educational' smutty books. A time to meet disciples from other clans, but with enough time to break through the posturing about who was a better archer. Almost an entire year away from Jinlintai, most of Jin-zongzhu's children left behind, so he wouldn't be responsible for anyone important enough to hold his future in their hands. Jin Ying could spend most of his time with his favourite shijiemeis, without the constant need to deal with Jin-san-gongzi and his friends. It sounded like a holiday. 

He was really looking forward to drinking with the Nie. Jin Ying had heard that the Nie had a drinking game that started with everyone hovering on their sabers, with two jars of alcohol each. Once they'd drunk the first two, they had to dive to catch the next one, and drink that too. It went on until everyone had lost their balance. The last one still in the air either got bragging rights, or responsibility to run the rest of them through saber forms the next morning. Jin Ying could not wait.

The lectures were more interesting than he'd expected. He'd heard that it was stuffy, full of things most disciples should already know before they were fifteen, which some of it was. The names and characteristics and preferred methods of dealing with resentful beasts was straight from the textbooks Jin disciples got at age eight. 

Jin Ying didn't mind. He could happily watch Lan Laoshi at the front of the room all morning, and when he already knew the topic, he could watch attentively instead of dutifully. He was an unfairly beautiful man. 

Was Hanguang-jun, Lan Laoshi, so beautiful because he was immortal? Or was he immortal because the gods wouldn't dare take such beautiful from the mortal plane? Was he immortal? The rumours weren't quite clear, but Jin-zongzhu's grandfather had apparently called Hanguang-jun uncle, so he had to be far beyond a normal lifespan by now. Apparently he'd known the Yiling Patriarch when they were boys. It was werid enough to think of the Yiling Patriarch as a person, let alone a boy who might have hung around and got drunk with Hanguang-jun when they were students. Time was so strange, when Jin Ying took time to stare at it until he got a queasy stomach from how uncomfortable it was to look that long.

Sometimes, Jin Ying's imagination let him believe that Lan Laoshi was watching him back. He really should keep a better handle on his own fantasies. He had imagined Lan Laoshi standing behind him, pressed all up against his back, taking Jin Ying's cock from his own hand and promising to teach him now to make it feel better, so often that he thought he caught glimpses of Lan Laoshi after he came, as though he was looking in through Jin Ying's dormitory window. 

Jin Ying's favourite lessons were the sudden shifts into philosophy lessons. Lan Laoshi thought he was a good student, in those lessons. Probably. It was quite hard to read his face, but his approving 'hm' was quite distinctive.

Lan Laoshi wouldn't give any warning, suddenly abandoning whatever thread of knowledge the class was chasing, and throw an ethical question at any student he liked. The question would be twisty, and Lan Laoshi wasn't happy until the student had an answer. He'd nod, and then demanded alternatives from anyone else in the room. It was so interesting. Often, after they'd tangled themselves up for a while, Lan Laoshi would declare that they'd all be dead, or have offended their ancestors with their suggestions, because actually-- and then he would lay out information he hadn't given in the original question. 

"But you didn't tell us that," Yao-gongzi complained, the second time it happened.

"Do you rely on others to always tell the truth, Yao-gongzi?" Lan Laoshi said. 

"Everyone knows Lans don't lie, and you're Hanguang-jun."

"Perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps I was a villain who stole Lan robes to make you trust me. Perhaps I was scared, and did not remember correctly."

"But--"

"Will you kill a child instead of a monster because you cannot be bothered to think?"

"Not intentionally, but--"

"Find the truth for yourself, or do not."  

Jin Ying adored those lessons. 

When he answered something to Lan Laoshi's satisfaction he got a long, careful look, and sometimes a short nod of acknowledgement. When he answered ridiculous, like the time he had suggested releasing a flock of sheep to distract the ghosts of dead shepherds, allowing for a clever cultivator to follow the shepherd ghosts to where their bodies might lay, Lan Laoshi almost smiled. 

The hours after the more interesting classes were filled with Yao-gongzi inevitably trying to hold court about how Lan Laoshi was brutal, and a terrible teacher, was very funny. Jin Ying usually bet with Jiang-er-gongzi on how many times Yao-gongzi would insult Lan Laoshi, an Immortal, in his own sect, before it was time for dinner.

Lan Laoshi had a point. Yao-gongzi was not going to last long if he was so bad at politics.   

Jin Ying was almost sure that Lan Laoshi was teasing them, even if he couldn't convince a single shixiong of his theory. Maybe he was wrong, because Lan Laoshi's face never moved. He was so deeply serious when he told them how each suggestion would have got them killed (or led to them killing an innocent), and Jin Ningcheng was probably right, because even if Lan Laoshi was capable of making fun of his students, he wouldn't do it like that. 

Just like how Lan Laoshi was Hanguang-jun, an Immortal (or close enough). He had been Lan-zongzhu generations ago (which sounded rather hard on all his descendants who had held the position since). Hanguang-jun definitely wasn't looking at Jin Ying like he wanted to devour him. Not even when Jin Ying ran in late to class, flushed and panting. Not when Jin Ying's hair had tangled across his face in the middle of a spar, so he lost his footing, and Lan Laoshi had held out a hand to pull him to his feet. Certainly not the time Jin Ying had been playing with (okay, teasing) some wild rabbits, Lan Laoshi had been angry, and it was only Jin Ying's unreasonable and active imagination which insisted that Lan Laoshi had wanted to pin Jin Ying with his whole body, until his robes were green with grass stains. 

Aside from lessons, and being a horny teenager about his two hundred year old teacher, other parts of the Cloud Recesses were a lot less fun than Jin Ying had expected. 

Someone should have mentioned that the Lan sect banned alcohol for guest disciples. It took weeks to get invited to drink with the Nie down in Caiyi, and none of them wanted to play the sword game so far from their beds.  (As an interloper, he got nominated to run saber practice the next morning, even though he wasn't a Nie, and didn't have a saber, and was the most hungover he had ever been.)

Someone definitely should have mentioned that the Lan were very serious about the gender segregation. Jin Ying hadn't had a chance to talk to his favourite shimei properly in weeks. 

Dressing like a woman to sneak across the boundary from the men's section to the women's wasn't actually unusual for Jin Ying. His shijies had spent far more time raising him than his parents had, so he had been bossed about and dressed up, his hair played with, make up looks tried on his face just for fun. He was treated like another shimei, except when he was particularly bratty, when whichever shijie was closest would tug on his ear and call him a silly boy.

It had been weeks since he wore his prettiest robe, and did his hair like san-shijie taught him. Sneaking across the boundary into the women's side was easy enough. It was a mostly invisible ward boundary, defined by low walls and high bamboo so an incautious person was unlikely to run straight into it. There were a few main gates to cross, and an area further back for families which none of the guest disciples were allowed to visit. There were weak points in the ward, though, hidden gates behind shielding bamboo which needed just a pulse of qi to open enough for a girl to pass from one side to another. 

He just ducked his head, and blushed when a man near the boundary looked at him, and then tucked behind some bamboo into the other side. 

Two hours huddled together with the Jin female disciples was just what he needed. No one teases him nearly as well as they do. 

He was sloppy and relaxed, happy in his skin, when Jin Ying made his way back across the boundary just before curfew. 

He was definitely sloppy. 

A Lan in perfectly flowing white robes was waiting for him, only a step away. Jin Ying froze, and then dropped into his 'girl walk', and the girl voice to go with it. 

"I'm sorry, Lan-gongzi," he said, bowing his head, "I just wanted to visit my brother. I shouldn't have--it's far too late. I'll go back."

"Stay," the Lan said. 

Jin Ying paused. The Lan stepped closer. Jin Ying shivered, though it wasn't too cold yet, only early autumn.

"I have to go back," Jin Ying insisted. 

"Stay," the Lan repeated. He was close. So close. Jin Ying didn't dare look up, or raise his bowed head, so he could only see the elaborate front of his robes, hardly a hand-span from his face. He stepped back, his back pressed against the invisible barrier which separated the women's side. 

The Lan stepped closer. His hand stopped beside Jin Ying's head, pressed on the ward and crowding Jin Ying with his body, his hand, the ward behind him. 

Ah. Perhaps this was why the Lan were so strict with their gender divides, if they had lecherous men who would bother any young girl who crossed their path.  

"Please, Lan-gongzi," Jin Ying pleaded, voice wobbling and high, "I shouldn't have broken curfew. I'll report to the discipline mistress in the morning."

"Hm," the Lan said. 

Jin Ying looked up. 

"Lan Laoshi?"

His voice was trembling for real now, but it wasn't for nerves, or how he could smell Lan Laoshi, he was so close. He had thought--He liked Lan Laoshi. He was smart, and witty, and he was Hanguang-jun. He couldn't be a pervert, could he?

"Hm." 

"Hanguang-jun," Jin Ying said, "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I thought it was only a small rule I was breaking, but I see that it is much--ah," Lan Laoshi stepped forward, pressing their bodies together, the barrier holding them both upright.  

"You have always liked breaking rules."

That was just unfair. Jin Ying hadn't broken very many rules at all, except for No Running in the Cloud Recesses, which was a silly rule anyway, because he was young, and forgetful, and he'd rather run than be late for class. 

"No. I haven't. Except no running in the Cloud Recesses. But that's a silly rule, because I'm forgetful, and I would rather run than be late for class. And I'm young, and young people should run. It's good for us."

"Can I make you remember?" Lan Laoshi said, but it was a quiet sort of thing, wistful, like the barely teacherly tone he managed at the end of one of his theoretical discussions, when he was sure no one would give him the right answer.

"No, it's just--I do try, Lan Laoshi. I--My brain is just very full of a lot of things, and sometimes where I should be, or when I heard the last bell, or even if it's time to eat--"

"I will remind you to eat."

Jin Ying swallowed. Lan Laoshi raised a hand, his fingertips barely tracing down his neck.   

"You can't be a pervert," Jin Ying said, because he had thought the Lans were better than that. Everyone said Hanguang-jun was celebate like his monk ancestors, which was why he had lived so long. His lips were moving under Lan Laoshi's fingertips. 

"Hm."

Lan Laoshi shoved two thick fingers into Jin Ying's mouth.  

Jin Ying sucked, instinctively. The fingers were thick, and warm, a little salty, and it felt--it felt so--  

Lan Laoshi smiled at him, and then twisted his fingers so the tips were stroking the top of his mouth. It was such a strange sensation. No one had ever touched him there, and the spike of pleasure below his golden core was startling, enough to make him moan. 

Jin Ying swallowed around them. He didn't know that he--

"Good boy," Lan Laoshi said.

Jin Ying pulled away, although he wanted to keep sucking Lan Laoshi's fingers. Why did he want that so much? 

"I'm not a boy," he said, because Lan Laoshi must still think him a sneaky girl.  Unless Lan Laoshi had recognised him, even in the dark, and wearing a girl's clothes. Maybe he hadn't imagined Lan Laoshi looking at him, lustful and wanting.

"Hm." Lan Laoshi said. "Yes, alright. I don't mind if you're a girl." 

Jin Ying must have opened his mouth, because Lan Laoshi's fingers were back inside him, pressing up against the roof of his mouth in a way which was making his cock rise. He'll find out that he's a boy soon enough, the way their bodies touched. 

He closed his eyes, so he could focus on the feeling. 

Lan Laoshi's sword callouses were rough against his tongue. His thumb resting against his cheek was perfect, familiar, stroking gentling. 

He remembered this. 

He remembered laughing with Lan Wangji's cock in his mouth, one thumb petting his cheek as Jin Ying swallowed him down. 

He remembered Hanguang-jun stuffing his mouth with fingers when he was being particularly bratty, to force him to silence. He remembered sinking into the silence, onto his knees, all the anxiety which had made his mouth run slipping away. 

Peaceful. Familiar. 

The panic swept through him. That feeling wasn't his. The memory wasn't his. 

Had Lan Laoshi done this to him before? Pushed him to his knees and fucked his mouth? And then taken the memory of it? 

He bit down, and then twisted his head to make it hurt more. 

Lan Laoshi pulled back, stepped far enough away that they weren't touching. Jin Ying turned his face away now, his mouth tightly shut. 

"Why do I remember--?"

"You remember?" Lan Laoshi was smiling. It was so strange on his face, like it shouldn't fit. 

"Do you--did you take my memories? Have you done this to me before?"

"Yes," he said. "But I did not take your memories."

Jin Ying licked his lips, chasing the half remembered feeling of Lan Laoshi's cock stretching his mouth, or just the taste of spilled ink on his fingers.

"But I--"

"You knew me in a previous life, Jin Ying." 

Hanguang-jun bowed to him. The bow was too deep. Unsettling. He was Hanguang-jun. He should only bow that deep to the Emperor.

"A previous life and--Really? Me?"

"This one trespassed upon your person. My most sincere apologies, Jin Ying."

"You--" saying he hadn't trespassed was wrong. Lan Laoshi had pushed him against a wall, and sucking his fingers had been--

Lan Laoshi was still in a deep bow. Jin Ying wanted to see his face, not the top of his head, the tie of his forehead ribbon visible, and in Jin Ying's reach.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to untie the ribbon because he was a teenager who liked teasing, or because there was a memory of untying that ribbon, curling it into a roll between his fingers, and watching Hanguang-jun's hair fall around his face.  

"I didn't mind," Jin Ying insisted. "Well, okay, I minded, but only a little, because I was--remembering things which weren't me. And I thought you thought that I was a girl--a girl, and you don't teach the girls, so not someone you knew--and that's very different, too. Because I didn't want you to be a pervert about just anyone. I don't mind if you're a pervert about me. You're beautiful."  

"This one should not have laid hands on Jin Ying."

"Please, Lan Laoshi, get up. Please. You shouldn't be bowing to me like that. I forgive you. I liked it."

Lan Laoshi stood up straight, powerful and beautiful and perfectly poised. His hair fell back into perfect position, his ribbon unruffled. 

"Nevertheless, I should have asked. Not assumed."

"I thought you were watching me. But I'm--I'm not very important. I was imagining--Or was I remembering? Do you think?"

"I was watching you, Jin Ying."

"Because I--because I knew you? And you recognised me?"

"Yes," Lan Laoshi said. 

"That's so weird."

"Jin Ying is also interesting and funny and himself. I also like Jin Ying."

"No, I'm--"

"You are. You are the only one who laughs at my jokes."

"I knew you were messing with us."

"Hm. Jin Ying is very clever."  

"And you--want me? Even though I don't remember. Was I was your wife?"

"I was your husband, yes."

"Really? I haven't heard about your wife. Everyone is so insistent you're a monk, like Lan An. Or do people forget her because she's a woman? Did they forget me? Was it a long time ago, that she died? Have I lived other lives in between? Did you meet me more than once?"

"We were married a long time ago. We first met when we were--about your age. I grieved you, and continued, but I grieved."

"Do you really not mind that I'm a boy?" Jin Ying looked down at himself, dressed in female clothing. "I can dress like one. I like that. Not all the time, but sometimes."

"I could never care what body you are living in. Jin Ying is himself."

"No. Not just myself, if you-- What was my name? What did you call me?"

"I called you Wei Ying."

Jin Ying tilted his head. That felt familiar, but not in the echoing way that sucking Lan Laoshi's fingers had pulled memories from the depths of his soul.  He also didn't recognise the name from any lessons, or books about Sect politics and families. Was that a small name, and his past self is noted in the ledgers by her courtesy name? 

"Okay. Don't call me that, not yet. Not until I remember."

"Of course, Jin Ying."

"So--how do we go about getting my memories back? Because if you shake them loose every time you do something perverted to me, then we'll need to schedule some private lessons."

"Jin Ying," Lan Laoshi said. He was very funny. He sounded like the most boring man, and also like he was teasing at the same time. 

"We can't have everyone knowing that Hanguang-jun is such a pervert as to accost innocent guest disciples in the open. After curfew."

Lan Laoshi's hand was in his hair, his fingers big enough to splay halfway around his head. 

"No. That would be--," Lan Laoshi paused, thinking, "--political."

"Do I at least get a kiss?"

 Lan Laoshi did not wait. He pushed Jin Ying against the invisible barrier, his hands tugging at his hair, moving Jin Ying's face so he could devour him. His tongue was insistent, deep. His teeth scraped his lip. The memory of being pushed against a tree trunk, unable to see, his mouth utterly devoured and claimed and taken. He was startled in the memory, but just as wanting. 

Lan Laoshi pulled back. Jin Ying bit his bottom lip, to prove that he could.

"Okay," Jin Ying said, "that's a successful experiment."

"You remembered something?"

"You kissed me against a tree. And you didn't ask."

Lan Laoshi was blushing. Oh dear. How can a Lan elder look adorable? 

"No. I did not."

"Hm," Jin Ying said, imitating Lan Laoshi. "Well, ask. For now. Maybe when I've got more memories back, you can be as perverted as you like."

"Whatever you wish, Jin Ying."

"Okay. Now, if you escort me back to my dorm, I won't be in trouble. Right?"

"Jin Ying entered the female section without permission. Jin Ying is out after curfew. Jin Ying is wearing a disguise. Jin Ying should receive punishment for these infractions."

"Well, of course I went to the female section! I was your wife! I was Lan-furen, and it was my job to take care of the women's quarters. I was just doing my duty--uh, before I remembered it." 

"Hm."

Jin Ying did not actually mind his punishment, when he officially received it from a Lan disciple a few years younger than him the next morning.  

"I know it says it's punishment, but Lan Laoshi must really think you're clever," the disciple had said, handing over a paper with Jin Ying's punishment written down on it. "He's going to be teaching you, or at least directing your private studies. Every afternoon in the library for a month, every fourth day free."

"Ah," Jin Ying said, looking down at the missive. It was in Lan Laoshi's handwriting, which seemed more familiar than it was two days ago. "He said I have a lot I need to remember."