dumbshow | highly new, slightly improved open post

[He sighs quite pointedly, but there's no real resistance in him as he follows Nie Huaisang through the crowds. It is kind of nice to be able to be pressed against him like this: it's not taking advantage, not the way he sometimes feels he is when they collapse together at night, Huaisang resting his head against his chest and Jiang Cheng trying so hard not to move or breathe or do anything to give himself away.

Anyway.

The craftsman, to his credit, is at least worth the prices he charges: they're pretty things carved from wood and polished to a shine, embedded with jade pieces that accent the carvings within them. Jiang Cheng eyes a few, as a courtesy, but honestly, he's fine with the few he has. They're ornate, they befit his station, they keep his hair out of his face: that's pretty much all he needs.

Nie Huaisang less so, naturally, but it's fine. Jiang Cheng is impatient as he picks, but he's impatient about everything. And when he finally-- finally!-- chooses, he tugs him to the side, away from the main road.]

Hold still.

[Because he'll help him put it in. Such an inconvenience, honestly, how terrible for him, the things he does for his friends . . .]

Or we'll be out here all day.

[Bless Jiang Cheng for indulging him as much as he does. Huaisang sticks close to him as they walk, every so often waving his fan at something interesting and tugging Jiang Cheng's sleeve enough that by the time they reach the craftsman, he's more or less just holding onto it with a light pinch. Normal, normal... Huaisang has always been that friend.

But ah, the ornaments distract him entirely; they're ostentatious and beautiful and he wants, like, all of them. Mingjue will be irritated when he finds out, another stupid trinket to stick in his hair and preen over instead of something functional (the one thing Mingjue and Jiang Cheng have in common), but Huaisang still takes his sweet time picking his favorite.

And oh, he's expired the rest of Jiang Cheng's patience, alright—]

Jiang-xiong, going to town is the only good thing about coming to Gusu!

[Does he declare this as loudly as Wei Wuxian might? No, he doesn't, but the craftsman definitely hears and enjoys a little moment of pride, so there's that. Huaisang is mercifully still, despite his protest, face heating up just a little when Jiang Cheng comes close to put the pin in his hair. Ah... it's a hot day, that's all.

He covers it with his fan anyway, and as soon as the task is finished he's reaching out to tug Jiang Cheng's sleeve again, this time more imploringly.]

Let's stay out a while longer! I can't go back to Cloud Recesses and face Lan Qiren— he knows I tried to cheat again!

[Jiang-xionnnng, pleeease..... have pity on a dear friend...]

[He's perfectly civil as he helps him. He doesn't linger, doesn't let his fingers brush against Huaisang's cheek or make an excuse to stay pressed up against him. He's good. He won't do that, he won't take advantage when Huaisang is unknowing, even if he so desperately wants to. Even if he looks unbearably attractive right now, flushing because of the heat, a few inches shorter, perfectly so, and it'd be so easy to just lean down and--

Anyway. Whatever.]

You're going to have to face him either way.

[JUST SAYING, it's not like Lan Qiren is known for his short memory. But he's already offering his arm idly, because maybe he likes the way Huaisang uses him to navigate crowds, don't @ him.]

And I'm not saving you when you do.

But Jiang-xiong, if Lan Xichen finds out, then my brother will find out!

[Lan Qiren, honestly, can go stroke his beard disapprovingly somewhere else. It's the trickle down to Mingjue that fills Huaisang with the kind of dread that makes the way he takes Jiang Cheng's arm so desperate and defeated. He all but hangs from his elbow for a moment, wallowing in the drama of it, before he sighs and pulls himself together. He... is fine.

Ah, and he's just grabbed onto Jiang Cheng without even thinking, hm— well, that's alright for now, isn't it? If they take a walk around the outskirts of the town, maybe borrow one of those half-covered riverboats...]

I'm going to be stuck here for the rest of my life! [uggggh] Come visit me when I'm a Gusu hermit, Jiang-xiong.

[That's fine. That's more than fine, and it's nothing but practical, because Jiang Cheng is bigger. It's easier for him to nudge others out of the way; they'll get separated otherwise, and how can they hold a conversation like that? It's fine. It's fine that his pulse jumps a little, it's just fine.]

Shut up. You're not going to be a hermit. And you're not going to fail, not if you actually try. You're not stupid.

[But oh, those riverboats . . . maybe they can take one out? It's an excuse to spend more time here without actually losing all their money, and . . . whatever, he can make up something about wanting to see if all the rivers are clear of ghosts. Or whatever. It literally doesn't matter, they're heading towards the river.]

Though I don't blame you. I wouldn't want to be on Nie Mingjue's bad side . . .

[HELPFUL.]

See what I mean? Even you couldn't cross my brother, and I'm the one who has to live with him!

[Brothers: they are a headache. Mingjue has never, like, hit him, but he's threatened to burn all his fans enough times that Huaisang is sure he's on his hundredth last chance already.

So what he needs, obviously, is to take a scenic walk on the arm of a handsome young man who will call him smart and encourage him, if in the most backward way... Pros, cons. He curls his arm around Jiang Cheng's a little tighter, sulkily.]

I don't like to study and I'm no use with a sword, [is his... defense, petulant, as he watches the tops of those boats amble by in the river ahead.] People like Lan Qiren and my brother think that's all anyone is good for.

[Can a dude not just feed birds and read poetry? Goddamn.]

[He has to admit: yes, it's probably quite hard to live in their world when you aren't inclined towards either. On the other hand: it's hard to feel any real pity when Huaisang is acting petulantly, not genuinely full of grief.]

Just wait until he gets an heir. Then he'll focus all his attention on him, and you can write poetry until you get bored to death.

. . . do you even write it? Or just read it?

[Grief over not liking sword training? Please, he's not going to change everything about himself to make his brother shout at him less. Preposterous. But ah, the thought of Mingjue with an heir...]

Both, [he says, distracted still by the concept of being an uncle. Would he ever even see his brother's heir, or would the poor child be in saber practice all the time? Hmm. Tragic.

Ah-] Why? Do you want to borrow some of my collection? You don't strike me as the type, you know.

I'm not.

[Please. The only poems he knows are dirty ones, and even then, it's maybe two at best.]

I'm just wondering what the appeal is, that's all.

[Tell him the dirty poetry, Jiang Cheng.]

I like the way it sounds. The world is bigger than saber practice. [Does this sound like the exact words he's parroted to his brother before? It is.] Not everything comes back to cultivation, you know.

[But they've come up on the riverboats, and Huaisang stops to look at Jiang Cheng expectantly. Helloooo, get in this boat with him......]

[EARN IT.

But fine, fine, and he's good on boats; it's easy to climb into one without disturbing it too much. By unspoken agreement, it's him who steers, pushing them off into the water.

It's calming, being in a boat. It's not home, but it's a little like it, and he's always enjoyed the water.]

It does in our world.

[It's idly said, less a condemnation and more a vague comment.]

Tell me one, then. If they sound so good.

[Huaisang scoffs, waving his fan dismissively to show what he thinks of that. Stupid... cultivation is alright and all, but the rest is such a pain. Jiang Cheng can steer; Huaisang takes the moment to settle himself comfortably.

Now then, what a demand...]

You want me to recite one? Right now?

[He says, in the exact tone of voice he uses when Lan Qiren tries to get him to answer questions in lectures, but fine. He shuts the fan, tapping it against his palm a few times while he thinks of a totally dope poem... Alright:]

Beside my bed a pool of light—
Is it hoarfrost on the ground?
I lift my eyes and see the moon,
I bend my head and think of home.

[He smirks back at him, a silent answer to that whine, but settles in. And it's . . .

Okay, fine. He can admit that the poem's nice. There's an elegance to it that he hadn't expected. Huaisang's voice becomes melodious in a way it never does in class, and he's a little sorry it's only four lines.]

Do you miss it? Home?

[It's mellowing, reciting the poetry; it makes him forget about the dread of having to face Lan Qiren whenever they get back, to let himself slip into the verse for a moment and let the rhythm do the work. His poems, the ones he writes on corners of papers he never turns in, are amateurish at best, but his recitation of others' is smooth and easy.]

Only sometimes, [comes his answer after a moment, honest.] My brother is the only family I have left, but— you know.

[Brothers. His face scrunches up in a frown, a perfect summary of all his brother-centric complaints.]

I know.

[It's said darkly. Has Wei Wuxian noticed they're missing yet? Unlikely. He's loud enough that they'd know.]

I'll trade you.

[Wow— he actually laughs, leaning over to elbow Jiang Cheng in the arm. Please, that's a curse! Don't curse him!]

No way! I'd never be able to sleep again!

[Wei Wuxian is a lot of fun, sorry Jiang Cheng, but still only in specially curated doses.]

You would fight my brother all the time.

Probably. I'll still trade, though.

[It's affectionately meant, sort of. He leans back, trusting the boat won't suddenly swerve sharply left or right. There's a shout to his left, and he glances over-- but no, it's not Wei Wuxian, and he relaxes.]

At least he's not chasing after Lan Wangji today, I guess.

[An improvement? Perhaps.]

I'll be glad when that's over with.

[Huaisang watches him, fan open again and mercifully covering the small smile he just... cannot help. Even when he's relaxed, Jiang Cheng complains... what a remarkable boy.]

Lan Wangji is so upright and serious... he could put a stop to Wei Wuxian faster than any of us could.

[But he didn't.mp3, hmm, how suspect.]

[AND YET HE DOESN'T, and Jiang Cheng's expression is considerably less pleased about that than Nie Huaisang's is. With an enormous sigh he leans back, staring up at the sky. No one has ever suffered as he has suffered.]

How long do you want to stay out here for, anyway?

[Sorry that your brother is absurdly attracted to human statues, Jiang Cheng... Could he do worse?? Likely, and yet.]

Do you want to go back? [They're in the middle of the river, so whatever, but he's willing to ask.] Are you bored already?

I didn't say that, I just--

[God, can he not snap for once in his life? Jiang Cheng glances sharply to the side.]

I'm not bored. But if we get caught sneaking back in, you're going to be in even more trouble.

And you won't?

[Huaisang waves his fan at him, definitely close enough to blow his hair in his face. It is on purpose, and he is not sorry.]

We have the whole afternoon, Jiang-xiong! I'm not ready to go back yet!

[The response is automatic: reaching over the side of the little boat, he dips his fingers in the water and deftly flicks them up, splashing enough water to make Huaisang sputter. This was a provoked attack; he is blameless.]

Suit yourself.

[Oh, look at that: he's actually smiling a little.]

[And he does sputter, but oh no, Jiang Cheng is so damnably handsome when he actually smiles. Huaisang is grateful for the excuse to duck his face and fuss over his hair and the most minuscule amount of water that got onto his robes, because god. God!]

If you're going to be like that, maybe I should go back without you!

[Narrator voice: he would not fuckin do that, tho]

You won't.

[Smugly said, as he settles back onto the boat, arms stretching out behind him.]

You wouldn't dare. Who'd protect you from Lan Qiren?

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ten hours on google later

worth it

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