Born of the selfsame root

After the debacle of the Guanyin temple in Yunping, Jiang Cheng assumed Wei Wuxian would just keep on— well. Being Wei Wuxian. Crashing through everyone’s lives like a boat being rowed by two oarsmen at cross-purposes, trailing Hanguang-jun behind him as his disapproving and homicidal minder.

He had thought, however, that if he avoided Lanling, Wei Wuxian would probably not come crashing into his life. Wei Wuxian might feel a (wholly appropriate, if belated) affection for Jin Ling, but he had turned his back on Yunmeng long ago. Even if he had had, perhaps, reasons, Jiang Cheng couldn’t see why he would reverse that decision in this new life.

Probably he would follow his… Hanguang-jun around the countryside on his sanctimonious “wherever the chaos is” quests, batting his eyelashes at him and letting him take his arm whenever he went through a gate or whatever.

Which is why he was not prepared to see Wei Wuxian on the next petition day, in the middle of a line of petitioners, wearing a douli on his head.

“Who told you to make a spectacle of yourself like this,” he hissed, grabbing Wei Wuxian by the elbow and pulling him out of line. “Are you in disguise?”

“It’s not a disguise, the sun is hot down here,” We Wuxian complained, not really resisting as Jiang Cheng towed him to one side. “It’s a sensible hat for travelling!”

Jiang Cheng looked around. There was no Hanguang-jun in sight. “Are you… are you running away? Do you need Yunmeng Jiang to shelter you?”

“Running away from who?” asked Wei Wuxian blankly. So apparently Lan Wangji hadn’t— whatever was under that jade facade hadn’t scared Wei Wuxian off, or else the Second Jade of Lan was still managing to conceal it.

“Never mind.” Jiang Cheng waved a junior disciple over. “Feed this idiot and find him somewhere cool to wait. I have actual petitioners to hear.”

After that, Jiang Cheng had to sit in the clan head’s seat and listen to several dozen complaints about minor boundary disputes, people who wanted him to decide in their favour in disputes where clearly the problem was that both parties were idiots, and worse, people with legitimate complaints he would have to do something about.

So when he went to find Wei Wuxian, who had been sitting in the shade, eating the food reserved for guests, and drinking the good tea—thankfully, the disciple had not brought out the good liquor unprompted—he was not in the best mood for Wei Wuxian to dither around getting to the point.

“So,” he said, sitting down and pouring himself some of the tea. It was tepid. He scowled and drank it anyway. “What do you want.”

Wei Wuxian kicked his feet a little. When they were boys he’d play with his spiritual bell, but, of course, he no longer carried one. Jiang Cheng noticed that Wei Wuxian hadn’t brought his demon flute with him, or at least was keeping it hidden with uncharacteristic discretion. He felt himself hunching his shoulders and straightened. Wei Wuxian certainly wanted something.

“It’s only. There hasn’t been a lot of time to get used to—” Wei Wuxian made a face. “This.” He waved his hand around.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure what he meant by the gesture. He could appreciate abstractly that many things had changed in a short time for Wei Wuxian, but it was almost impossible for him to appreciate it specifically. How much had Lotus Pier changed in the intervening years? When had they added this wing; was it before Wei Wuxian’s death or after? How much rebuilding had they really accomplished before Wei Wuxian sent himself off into exile with a dozen grubby peasants and Wen Qing? Jiang Cheng couldn’t really remember the exact sequence of those long ago events.

Wei Wuxian, poor memory notwithstanding, probably could still remember, but Jiang Cheng didn’t think either of them would enjoy that discussion, and it hardly seemed productive.

Jiang Cheng sighed. “It’s been a long time,” he agreed. He had, with difficulty, acquired the skill of making neutral comments when he had nothing positive to say, and it had proved useful as a sect leader.

Wei Wuxian seemed to take more from that than he meant. “It’s— you’ve done a good job with Yunmeng Jiang,” he said, somewhat hesitantly. “more than. I mean. It’s not what we imagined,” he said, finally, and Jiang Cheng thought he was saying I’m sorry I left you to do it alone.

Jiang Cheng didn’t say it was hard, and you weren’t there, and it would have been better if you were even if it were harder. He punched Wei Wuxian on his shoulder, gently as he knew how, since he wasn’t sure how—

God, that he would just give up his core, and now this new body bullshit. He didn’t want to talk about it. “How is it with you, then?” he asked. “And Hanguang-jun,” he added, to be polite.

“Aahahaha!” said Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Chen recoiled. He hadn’t seen this Wei Wuxian in decades. This was a Wei Wuxian he hadn’t seen since he was first pining over Lan Wangji and trying to pretend he wasn’t. He hadn’t missed it.

“I am fine!” said Wei Wuxian. “Hanguang-jun is also fine! Very fine.”

Wow, thought Jiang Cheng, and stood up. They were both going to need liquor, apparently.

---

He had their evening meal brought to a small room, since he didn’t want the ghost of former family dinners hanging over them. Wei Wuxian was back to being chatty and was, at least, vocally appreciative of the food.

“Ah, Jiang Cheng! You don’t know how good it is to taste Yunmeng cuisine again! Caiyi town has a few vendors who can cook things with real flavour, but even they can’t make it taste right.” He wasn’t really drinking, like he had during… certain bad times, but he was enjoying Yunmeng Jiang’s liquor without rhapsodizing about Emperor’s Smile, so Jiang Cheng filled his cup.

“Do you know how lucky I am that Mo Xuanyu had a stomach for liquor? I never heard that Jin Guanshang was a famous drinker, so perhaps I owe it to Second Madam Mo.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t want to think of Wei Wuxian coming from Jin Guanshang’s body in any way, that was disgusting, but—

“Is that how it works?” he asked, reluctantly intrigued.

“I think so! Sadly, all of the Mo family who might know got massacred by Chifeng-zun’s resentful arm—”

“What,” said Jiang Cheng, but Wei Wuxian didn’t stop to explain that.

“—so I can’t learn too much about Mo Xuanyu. And no one in Jinlintai wants to admit to remembering anything about him.” Wei Wuxian made a face. “It would be nice to have had warning that chestnuts made me start to wheeze before I ate chestnut bean-curd.”

“You—”

“Anyway, it’s—” Wei Wuxian cut himself off. “It’s not that interesting to you I’m sure!”

Jiang Cheng hated it when Wei Wuxian told him what he felt. The truth was that Wei Wuxian often went deeper faster than Jiang Cheng could follow, and furthermore, that Wei Wuxian did have the ability to find things interesting that Jiang Cheng found unutterably boring, but he hated that Wei Wuxian just assumed he wasn’t interested, cutting him out, brushing him aside.

“So that’s your research project now? Mo Xuanyu? Whatever case of not-possession this is?” He nodded at Wei Wuxian’s new body, slighter, probably shorter, although it had been so long; who knew how much of his memory of Wei Wuxian’s size was even accurate? That one summer when he’d been two inches taller had reversed itself the next year, hadn’t it?

“Um,” said Wei Wuxian, who could not dissemble to save his own worthless life. Jiang Cheng pinned him with his gaze. Wei Wuxian squirmed. It felt very strange to be able to use the same glare on Wei Wuxian as he would on an unruly junior disciple, and get similar results. Wei Wuxian was still so young, and it made him feel old. Honestly, it was indecent of Lan Wangji.

The servants came in to clear the dishes, and Jiang Cheng gestured for them to leave the wine. He was old enough to know when to stop drinking if he wanted to avoid a headache tomorrow, and, he hoped, old enough not to be egged into matching Wei Wuxian drink for drink. If Wei Wuxian had a headache tomorrow, that was between him and the sacrificed body of Mo Xuanyu.

“So, if you’re not here because you had a fight with Hanguang-jun,” said Jiang Cheng, “then…” He cut himself off, suddenly regretting asking. It was possible that this was Wei Wuxian’s attempt— that he was trying to— well, it would probably go better if he didn’t draw attention to it. Neither of them were very good at talking about that sort of thing directly without… well.

“Ah,” said Wei Wuxian. “Well.” He looked… he looked perfectly like himself, which was to say, like Wei Wuxian, and not Mo Xuanyu at all. It was amazing how much of a person was contained in their expressions and gestures and stupid way of holding their face when they were about to admit that were pursuing a stupid idea and wanted your help.

“The thing is,” said Wei Wuxian, “Lan Zhan, ah—”

“This is about Lan Wangji after all,” said Jiang Cheng, disgusted.

“No, I mean. It’s—” Wei Wuxian drained his cup suddenly in a gesture that provoked reflexive caution in Jiang Cheng. “Jiang Cheng, take off your pants.”

“No! What? My pants? No!” said Jiang Cheng, a denial before the words even registered, and then outraged denial as he understood.

“Jiang Cheng! The thing is, I need to know!” said Wei Wuxian, urgently. “I need to know before we— that is. I need your help.”

“You need me to help you. With my pants off,” said Jiang Cheng. All his thoughts about his maturity compared to this younger Wei Wuxian were mocking him now. All it took was Wei Wuxian’s idiot whatever-this-was, and he felt himself reverting back to patterns of behaviour more suitable to Jin Ling.

“I just need to see it!” said Wei Wuxian, waving at Jiang Cheng’s… lap.

“It,” echoed Jiang Cheng.

“Your dick,” said Wei Wuxian, and gave a bright grin as if, having clarified his agenda, Jiang Cheng’s objections should now be taken care of.

Jiang Cheng took a moment. He did not need to respond to Wei Wuxian as if he was on the other side of twenty. He had disciples older than Wei Wuxian. “You absolutely do not need to see my dick.”

“I absolutely do, Jiang Cheng! It’s important,” said Wei Wuxian earnestly.

“Why do you need to see my dick?” asked Jiang Cheng, and then cursed himself for even— he got the jar of wine, and poured more for Wei Wuxian, and none for himself. One of them needed to be drunk for this, and he didn’t see why he should wake up feeling foul.

“Well, I’ve seen it before,” said Wei Wuxian, as if that made sense.

“That’s a reason why you don’t need to see my dick,” said Jiang Cheng. Actually, this felt a lot like trying to argue with Jin Ling, except— worse. Still worse, somehow.

“I need a reference,” explained Wei Wuxian. “My hands aren’t the same size as they used to be, I’m pretty sure. It doesn’t feel the same when I—”

Jiang Cheng hysterically thought that Wei Wuxian was going to say jerk off, but instead he raised his hands in the air next to his head and made what at first he was very afraid was an obscene gesture before he recognized it as pantomimed flute-playing.

“You want to compare the size of my dick… to the size of your hands?” They had, as it happened, gotten up to some rather questionably proper stuff when sharing a room in Cloud Recesses, but never… that.

“Of course not,” said Wei Wuxian, as if Jiang Cheng was making ridiculous and improper insinuations. “I need to compare the size of your dick to Mo Xuanyu’s!”

Was his dick… the reference dick? The reference dick by which all others were measured? Jiang Cheng looked longingly at the jar of wine. How much could his head really hurt in the morning, after all? “Why?” said Jiang Cheng, in what was definitely not a wail of despair.

“I just need to know if I’m the same as before. I think it seems bigger, but also my hands are smaller, you know?” said Wei Wuxian. Again. With terrible earnestness. As if this were a reasonable thing to ask.

“How—?” Jiang Cheng started to ask, before Wei Wuxian continued.

“And obviously I know I used to be just slightly bigger than you, so if I could—”

“You were not!” said Jiang Cheng, in pure outrage, unable to stop himself, unable to— “That was never true except that one summer!” Standing, and with a dizzy feeling of committing fully to a terrible decision, he began yanking his robes open.

Wei Wuxian leapt to his feet and began to do likewise. Everything about this felt familiar: the place, the wine, Wei Wuxian, the feeling of knowing Wei Wuxian was leading him into something he would regret but couldn’t take back. He had his dick out in his hand and was staring at Wei Wuxian’s before some part of him tried to interject that there was probably a way, still, he could shut this down.

But then of course Wei Wuxian would think—

Wei Wuxian was looking back and forth between their exposed members. “Hmmm,” he said. “Stand next to me so I can get a better angle.”

The part of Jiang Cheng that wanted him to rethink this was making urgent noises he didn’t listen to. He stood next to him and looked down at both their dicks.

Smugly, Jiang Cheng thought that there was no question that Wei Wuxian had lost a fraction—perhaps more than a fraction!—of a cun, courtesy of Mo Xuanyu.

“Huh,” said Wei Wuxian.

“Hah!” said Jiang Cheng.

“…I see I have come at an inopportune time,” said Hanguang-jun.