dumbshow | highly new, slightly improved open post

[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?

[Huaisang frowns, or really, Huaisang pouts, because Jiang Cheng sure does have him there. Be kind to him, handsome human shield...]

You would deserve it if I did! [Cruel, cruel boy!! He doesn't need to prod Jiang Cheng in the side with his fan, but if he's going to lounge like that, then he deserves this, too. Poke... poke...]

Swear you'll help me escape Lan Qiren!

Hey!

[Don't be fucking rude? Just for that, he grabs the end of the fan and snatches it back, and he can do that because he does his cultivation exercises. He has good reflexes. And a fan, now.]

Maybe you should be swearing to me. What are you going to give me so I don't soak your fan?

Jiang-xiong! Don't!!

[That thing is more expensive than half the things you own, boy!! Give him his stupid trinket, a sentiment further expressed by Huaisang leaning over him, trying to reach it. Give him his stuff back... stupid tall boy...]

I'll copy your lines for you! [because they are Going to be punished and the Lans really have only one detention activity, huh--] I'll do whatever you want!

[Ah, ah-ha, aha okay, and this absolutely wasn't his intention because he's not a dick, but boy what an outcome. Huaisang crawling over him, and it's way, way too easy to imagine other ways he could be over him.

Which, hey! Not his fault! At all! Huaisang's the one who supplies them with porn, it's his fault Jiang Cheng's got a little too fuel for his overheated imagination.

Whatever I want, he'd say perfectly confidently, and Huaisang would (in this fantastical scenario) go all red-- and then there'd be no need for negotiation or words, they'd just kiss, make out, and then, and then--

And then he'd better fucking knock it off, he tells himself sharply, because it's pretty gross to fantasize about your friend like this when you know they don't return your feelings.]

Say please, then.

[He's sometimes a bit of an asshole, though, so. Let him live.]

[Is Jiang Cheng for real? Honestly— Huaisang scoffs and just- just puts his hand down right on his face, leaning more fervently to make a grab for his fan. There's just enough Nie Bad Temper TM in him for this, of all things.]

I really don't know— why you want to argue, Jiang-xiong-

[Give! Him! The fan!! Or: he strains just that much more before he sighs and looks down at Jiang Cheng, since he's not going to really crawl all the way over him. But it's this moment that he realizes how much he's already done just that, and oh, hello! He blinks.

He blinks again, then clasps his hands together and bows over them, because if there's a quick way out of having to acknowledge serious emotions, it's throwing his pride out the window in no seconds flat.]

Please!! I painted it myself...!

[Ah. They blink stupidly at each other for one long, heartstopping moment, with Jiang Cheng's heart in his throat and his cheeks going hot-- and then, thank god, Huaisang bows, and the world starts moving once more.]

All right, all right--

[If only because surely people are starting to stare, maybe. Or maybe because his heart just leapt in a distinctly unpleasant way when he'd thought for half a second that Huaisang had suspected what was flashing through his mind.

So here, take your damn fan, and he gently shoves him back, glancing away.]

You painted it yourself?

[Huaisang moves back to his side gratefully, for both his fan and his, ah, dignity? Something like that. He needn't open the fan to check for damages, it's not like Jiang Cheng did anything to it, but he opens it anyway - instead to show him the painting: birds, obviously. A hazy landscape, a wispy-looking tree in the background. Behold... his art(tm).]

This one, I did. I bought the best ink I could find and told my brother it was for studies.

[of course.]

Of course.

[Honestly, he's more surprised Nie Mingjue didn't question the lie. Or maybe he knew precisely what his brother was doing and decided to pick his battles; he's a renowned strategist, after all.

Anyway: birds. Trees. It's very meaningful and very poetic and, honestly, fairly well done. Certainly better than anything Jiang Cheng could come up with: his attempts at calligraphy, never mind artistry, are . . . hm, blocky? Angry? It's just bad. He scoots forward, a little interested despite himself, if only because it's strangely jarring to see something that Huaisang is good at.

He doesn't mean it badly. It's just that he's so awful at schoolwork and cultivation; it's easy to forget there's more to life than that, and that yes, everyone has talents. There's a pleasing delicacy to the lines drawn there, each minor brush stroke seemingly done with deliberation.

It's a nice fan.]

How often do you--

[Hm.]

You should show me how you paint them.

[Show him how you paint, babe, let him watch you in your natural habitat. Or something. It's just that he can't get the idea of Huaisang being not only competent but clever in something; sue him for wanting to see it.]

[Huaisang's interests are quaint as far as the rest of the cultivation world is concerned, and that's being generous. An irritating distraction, an airhead boy wasting his time reading poetry and painting flowers and birds when he ought to be doing something else. Sure, it's in the perfect cultivator's image to be well-read, and passably decent at the arts— Huaisang has known Lan Xichen most of his life, and there is no other perfect blend of poise and power he can think of, for one. But where Mingjue leans too far into cultivation, Huaisang swings the opposite, and combined they would be one force to be reckoned with, but separately...

Well! It's always a pleasant surprise when someone takes genuine interest in his talents. Huaisang knows Jiang Cheng; specifically, he knows Jiang Cheng cannot tell a lie to save his life, and so his gruff expression of muted curiosity is genuine. It makes Huaisang smile, a soft thing he directs down at the fan after a moment. Ah.

It's nice to be seen, that's all. Admiration for his talents usually comes with a gentle suggestion that he leave art to someone else...]

When we're exiled to the library for a month for punishment, I'll show you a thousand times.

[Which is yet another jab at how they're going to be in so much trouble for wasting the day away out here, but it also sure does sound how it sounds, and Huaisang snaps the fan shut maybe too abruptly.]

I— I'll show you how to paint a lotus!

--!

[That's a silent choke, his body jerking minutely in the split second of silence before Huaisang hastens to clarify. And that's the exact order it goes in, which is why Jiang Cheng assumes in the next second that the explanation is because of him and his stupid reaction.]

Obviously.

[He says it too sharply and sits up, glancing around, ears red and a fierce scowl on his face.]

How-- how hard can it be?

I know you've seen a lotus before...

[Do not cheapen his art with your futile attempt at sounding cool and capable, boy. Huaisang can't look at him; he has a very sudden interest in looking out at the water instead, ah yes, the river, he's read poems...

Give him a moment to collect himself, in which he is still not looking and so has no idea that perhaps Jiang Cheng would also like a minute to collect himself. Perfect crime.]

...Well, even if we don't get sent away to the library, I can show you.

Fine.

[Nobody's flustered, nobody's upset, it's fine, they're just two dudes sitting in a boat three feet apart because they're not gay!

Maybe it's not such a shock he rows them back not too long afterwards. They probably could have made it back in time if they'd rushed, but they don't, and Jiang Cheng doesn't think too much on why that is. It's fine that they stay out until past sundown under the pretense of searching for Wei Wuxian, and if they drink a little, so be it. It's fun-- and while the Cloud Recesses are a fantastic education, they don't put

It's worth it, he thinks three days later. Not that he really wants to be here, of course, but they're unsupervised, which means they can goof around a bit. Or, hm, maybe draw lotuses? But how to bring that up without acting like he's been thinking of constantly for three days, that's the question.]

Do you think they actually count if you've done it the right number of times?

[Surely literally anyone has better things to do. He settles back with a sigh, releasing his sleeves.]

[There's not even a remote chance Huaisang has done any work these past three days. He might have copied a line or two, definitely no more than a handful before he pushed all the work to the side and began his mad quest to find anything else at all to entertain himself with. They're in a library! There are scrolls and books about things besides how great it is to follow rules in here somewhere.

So it's been a long couple days. Besides the occasional well-deserved break from being bored to tell Jiang Cheng that he's bored (important), Huaisang is running out of conversation topics at an alarming rate...]

Lan Wangji will, [he says, looking up from the work he's not doing.] Because my brother will ask his brother to make sure.

[This is why Huaisang and Wangji aren't really friends, in the end. Shocker.]

[At least his mother never does that, Jiang Cheng thinks. That's something, although admittedly not much.]

Too bad.

[It's time. This is their last day here, and sure, he could just ask him after their detention, but this is the only viable excuse he's got. And after the near-disaster on the boat, he doesn't want to give Huaisang any more reason to think something's up.

So:]

Weren't you going to show me how to draw?

[—Oh right, the drawing. Huaisang makes a face like he forgot, which he did not, but each time he thought to bring it up he remembered that stupid, stupid thing he said on the boat and went to look through more forbidden books.

But if Jiang Cheng is just going to ask, that's different! He perks up, going from sitting there looking haggard (from the perils of copying) to enthused in about a second.]

You want to? Then come here, come here—

[He scoots to the side, making room at his table for Jiang Cheng to come and sit beside him. He has some fresh paper and ink and brushes all ready to go right here, you know, from pretending to copy lines... He'll live with the brotherly disapproval circle bearing down on him, surely.

He passes Jiang Cheng a brush as soon as he's settled. Hi, it's time.]

Draw a lotus for me first.

[Hm. He knows what a lotus looks like, obviously, but it's one thing to know it and another to draw it. He hesitates for a few seconds; then, holding his sleeve back, he draws . . . ehhh, it's okay. It's a rudimentary lotus. It's recognizable, kind of.]

. . . shut up.

[At least huffing over that means he doesn't obsesses over, hm, the way Huaisang is right there, all lithe limbs and delicate fingers, his eyes far too bright as he glances over at him. How is Jiang Cheng meant to draw when Huaisang looks at him like that? God.]

[Oh, it's cute... Jiang Cheng being bad at art shouldn't be something that makes him more attractive, and yet? Here they are. Huaisang stifles a laugh hastily--]

I didn't say anything! —Wait here.

[And there he goes, off to the Shelves not to retrieve a nasty book but to go past to the obscured window, where a purely decorative branch of plum blossoms was probably supposed to stay on the windowsill there? The Lans can deal with Huaisang moving the decor around later. This, he places on the table in front of them.]

It's not a lotus, but... [But watch him draw this with his own brush, on his side of the paper; quick strokes and longer, smoother ones; a light touch for the delicate blossoms; curves and shapes that come together into the whole picture of a blooming branch before long. He gets a little lost in it, honestly, and the few ink smudges he winds up with on his face from not paying attention to his other hand are definitely not as ridiculous as when he literally taps the inky brush against his tongue to keep it moist. Like, just don't judge him for that, alright. It's art.

He has a point to make as he puts the finishing touches on this stick related to Jiang Cheng's ugly lotus, which is this:] You're just drawing what you think a lotus looks like. To make it look right, you have to look past what you think it should be.

[Ta-daaa... Draw this stick, honey.]

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