Chapter Text
The first time Wen Ning truly feels an interest in sex, it is much too late. He’s been dead for a decade, nerves as numbed to pleasure as pain with long disuse, but he is still human enough to want.
He wants Jiang-zongzhu. He has the driving, instinctual need to be as close to him as possible: pressed against him, around him, inside his skin; to feel his heartbeat and heat against his own. He needs to give him pleasure, to see him ecstatic in the throes of what their bodies can do, playing against each other, and feel the answering, vibrant, living joy within his own, teased out by his lover’s mirrored soul. This is incredibly frustrating, given he lacks not only the interest of Sect Leader Jiang, but a fully human body: warm skin and a heartbeat are among the more trivial functions that have been lost in his undeath. Knowing exactly how and why they are missing, thanks to long years studying medicine with his jiejie, and then in Wei Wuxian’s company, learning about himself specifically, is a cold comfort.
Also, all of this new wanting makes the parent and guardian meetings for the junior cultivator’s club thing more awkward than they already were.
“Fuck. Again?” Jiang Wanyin hisses as Wen Ning insinuates himself into his shadowy corner behind a rock garden.
“I was going to hide in the kitchens, but the Jin uncles were already in there making noise.”
“This is ridiculous. You’re a fully grown man!”
“You’re older than I am and hiding from Minister Ouyang too.” Wen Ning points out mildly.
“Yeah but he actually wants things from me. You don't have the bastard breathing down your neck pressuring you in turns to host the next meeting and get married so you can have a real family.”
Wen Ning shrugs and smiles apologetically. “That is upsetting. He just calls me an ‘inappropriate influence’ on my own nephew. Constantly.”
Jiang Wanyin grunts his assent and makes a little more room in the deepest shadow.
“Why do we let him run this thing again?”
“I thought Lianfang-Zun appointed him?” As far as Wen Ning had heard, the Young Cultivators Mentorship Association had been started by Jin Guangyao in the post-war years to encourage better understanding between the next generation of sect leaders. He has no memory of this directly, what with some of Jin Guangyao’s other projects at the time involving him personally in an imprisonment-and-experimentation way. This one made sense though: one year training with the Lan, and then the occasional cultivation conference, were hardly enough interaction between the children of the cultivation sects to form most kinds of friendship, let alone community.
“And we’ve just left him there?”
“I wouldn’t want to run this thing if I were a sect leader.”
Jiang Wanyin clenches his jaw, but says nothing, it’s the closest he ever gets to acknowledging he can’t argue with a point. Wen Ning has the suicidal urge to run a finger along the sharp ridge of bone and straining muscle there.
Is it still suicide if you’re already dead?
They while away the time before the meeting there, in an almost-companionable state of silent alert, watching for any danger of getting cornered by the Minister of the Young Cultivator Mentors Association. That’s good, even if it leaves Wen Ning in his own head, without even his own breathing for distraction. He’s used to it, albeit not so near someone so very unsettling to his quietude.
Over a year of running into one another at these things, nearly always like this, Wen Ning had learned a bit about Jiang-zongzhu: he’s intelligent, funny in an acrid way, an intensely caring parental figure, and passionate. He is affected easily by his surroundings, circumstances, and own moods. He feels every response immediately and intensely: a bright, hot spark of a man. All of this is awkwardly, horribly, attractive.
Wen Ning went through something similar with food—he can still smell, and probably taste for what it’s worth, but eating is not possible. That doesn't mean his mind won’t run to the urge out of a desire for comfort from time to time; it wasn’t hunger more than a hunt for the familiar, the desperate grasp of a brain that does not quite know it’s dead to any remaining vestiges of a living process. Possibly a way to keep itself from going mad. The body is remarkable like that, he just wishes his wasn’t this remarkable. He thought he was done making peace with what he is, but apparently some part of him still wants to live and is still convinced it can.
There’s a shift in the air around them; people are making their way to the clan hall. Wen Ning and Jiang Wanyin had successfully waited out the danger of a social encounter with the Minister and were now free to go plan and volunteer to chaperone the next junior night hunt of the season. The Young Cultivators Mentorship Association was very proud of their Junior night hunting program, and Wen Ning tended to agree. Even with Sizhui old enough to take care of these sorts of things on his own, or with the group of Lan disciples he tended to travel with, it’s for the best that he keeps practicing in a controlled environment, surrounded by friends and chaperones, for as long as possible. Wen Ning had just recovered his last living family member, and he is determined to be as active in his upbringing, and protect him, for as long as possible; Wen Ning knows he could have used some adult guidance and affection (or even attention) at that age.
The Minister and other parents of their little club may not like Wen Ning, but they have settled comfortably into allowing him night hunt chaperone duty as a necessary sacrifice for the children’s safety and the comfort of whichever poor soul would otherwise need to take his place with overnight camp watch. Jiang Wanyin occupies a similar niche in this social environment, which used to quietly tickle Wen Ning’s sense of humor: he can’t be that much better than Wen Ning if so many other responsible cultivators weighed their skill sets and likability roughly equivalent. Also Wen Ning took a certain amount of pride in being perfectly likable in who he is; it’s just the what that’s unsettling, and he can’t exactly blame people when he feels the same unease as them occasionally. Jiang Wanyin has no such excuses - his person is just incredibly unpleasant and that is that.
Or, was. Because it happens that Jiang Wanyin is also perfectly likable if you unintentionally force yourself to sit quietly in his company long enough and just observe. Wen Ning is good at observation — the living don’t have the same stillness to cultivate real patience, what with all of their small working parts ticking away, continually reminding them of things they should be doing, anything other than waiting. It’s their loss; anyone that is instantly loved by every dog he encounters must be a really sweet guy (outside of hating Wen Ning).
He’s more than aware of Jiang Wanyin’s feelings about him, as if he had stolen Wei-gongzi and his affections from their family home. It’s such a bizarre conclusion to come to, that Wei-gongzi can be compelled to do or feel anything outside of his considerable will, that Wen Ning does not even know where to begin addressing it. So far he’s just happy Jiang Wanyin can tolerate his proximity without violence.
The first YCMA meeting Wen Ning had attended, they had, as has since become routine, stumbled into the same hiding spot. There’s a distinct lack of dark corners in these wealthy cultivators’ mansions in which to avoid inane small talk, because they were made for small talk. Which is fine! Wen Ning loves a nice discussion about the weather and the price of rice, only not with these particular people. It’s better for Sizhui if he avoids reminding the other parents of their relation, in any case.
That’s neither here nor there, though. The short of it is Wen Ning and Jiang Wanyin wound up in a very public, very embarrassing fist fight. If you could call it that. Jiang Wanyin did engage in a lot of punching and screaming of epithets—standard stuff for people that come upon Wen Ning unexpectedly—so he tried to wait it out and maybe have the man lower his voice a touch because he was hiding. Jiang Wanyin would do neither, and after hearing oncoming footsteps Wen Ning made the panicked choice to pick up Sandu Shengshou and pop him onto the other side of the low wall he was hiding behind. Where it turned out Minister Ouyang was waiting. Jiang Wanyin did not appreciate that at all. It was not a great start to their friendship. (Wen Ning has since decided they should be friends. It is important to him to think of this as their friendship story.)
At the next week’s meeting, Jiang Wanyin came upon Wen Ning’s corner again. Wen Ning made the choice to leave and find a new place, followed by a litany of colorful language. He wound up running right into the Minister, enduring another long lecture about exercising caution influencing Hanguang Jun’s excellent progeny, and getting assigned snack duty for the then-upcoming archery tournament. He had to borrow money from Wei-gongzi for that, and even then Minister Ouyang declared the snacks inedible to at least his boy’s delicate palate (poor kid can’t even eat junk food—some parents are worse than nothing at all; it’s good Zizhen has A-Yuan and their friends to keep him sane). As far as he was concerned, he and Jiang Wanyin were even after that. The following week, when Wen Ning found a nice sheltered corner by the stables where he could stay out of sight, he paid no attention to the fact it was already occupied: it was Jiang Wanyin’s turn to leave. He was the one making a loud enough fuss to attract attention anyway!
This is his first hint that Jiang Wanyin, though foul-tempered, is not a completely terrible, stupid man. The loathing was still in his eyes, but he quietly distanced himself and tried to ignore Wen Ning. This was unexpected: a compromise—strategic, sure, but it was progress! A-Yuan had been friends with Jin Ling for longer than Wen Ning had known him, so progress was important. Being able to take A-Yuan to events Wei-gongzi had happened to get banned from without a fuss was one of the very best joys in Wen Ning’s unlife, and Jin Ling’s angriest uncle often also attended these things.
Two meetings later, they had their first attempt at conversation. Wen Ning was in a generous mood that day, before he bumped his head into a broad chest whilst ducking under a small boat shelter, just on the outskirts of some minor clan’s house grounds. He grimaced and looked up as he stood to full height under the eaves. It was Jiang Wanyin, because of course it would be, looking murderous as ever. Joke’s on him—someone else already took care of that. Murderous or not, Jiang Wanyin had the decency to move away and not raise his voice this time. Better and better. Wen Ning graciously appreciated him making space. “Thank you—”
“Do. Not. Fucking talk to me.” Jiang Wanyin bit out the words like they had each offended him personally.
Not a great start, but it’s important Wen Ning remembers it so he can appreciate how far they’ve come! He’s sure he’ll wear Wanyin down and gain his friendship any week now. He can afford patience.
Another month or two went by—time is a little hard when your body doesn't really mark it in the usual sleeping, eating, or breathing ways—Wen Ning was minding his own business watching A-Yuan compete with his friends at a swordplay event they had thrown together, when another parent handed him something and left quickly after he stammered a confused thanks. It was some kind of sesame pastry, and it smelled wonderful. Wen Ning glanced up; the parent handing out food had returned to a small cluster of others, and they were all staring expectantly, one even poorly hid a giggle. He understands the whole point of these things is to raise children better than their generation had a chance to be, but surely there’s a floor for childish behavior in adult people?
Wen Ning smiled, took a nibble of the pastry in full sight of the parent flock, and walked off in the direction of the shed on the other side of the training grounds. The door was facing away from the flock, but the structure itself proved too stuffed full of wooden practice weapons to fit an entire Wen Ning, so he just leaned against the outside door and hoped it was shelter enough for a shichen or two. At least it was nice and tranquil; this side of the shed faced a patch of forest soothingly buzzing with small lives. He removed the bite of pastry from behind his teeth before it had a chance to lodge somewhere more unpleasant to deal with and placed it on an ant pile right at the edge of the wood. It did taste kind of nice, so there was that, but now he wanted to eat again, which could not happen without upsetting consequences. Generally, the idea of food hurt worse than just avoiding it altogether. Jiang Wanyin appeared around the corner, muttering, right as Wen Ning was contemplating whether chucking the little cake into the woods would make him just as childish as the other YCMA parents.
“Assholes never save any food...”
Wen Ning frowned, tore the nibble mark off of the pastry and proffered it at Jiang Wanyin. “Here, they accidentally gave me one.”
Jiang Wanyin scoffed, and to his surprise, took the snack, “I doubt it; they really are assholes.”
Despite the harsh words, the silence this time almost felt peaceful; Wen Ning gifted his second scrap to the ant pile, who seemed appreciative, and Jiang Wanyin munched thoughtfully.
Maybe it was the pleasant late summer air, or just that he appeared a more knowable creature than the rest of their little group, but that afternoon Jiang Wanyin seemed nearly likable. Wen Ning didn’t mind him. In fact, Wen Ning rather enjoyed watching him out of the corner of his eye as the tournament progressed. The man was always moving in some small way—watching the sky, chatting at Jin Ling whenever he came wandering over (that kid has impressive tracking skills all around, and is near-psychic when it comes to locating any of his uncles), even rough-housing with a roaming dog. It was not a bad way to pass the afternoon.
More events and meetings meant more close-quarters entrapment, and soon Wen Ning had a soundly established new hobby in Wanyin-watching, with an entire library of mental notes to go with it. If he was still nimble enough with a brush he might even have produced actual notes, maybe a sketch or two, although that probably would have been creepy, come to think of it. Anyway, he’d been used to keeping things in his brain for a while—it was the best working part he had left to him, so he had to do his best to make it work!
In any case, things were going well—Wanyin-watching was entertaining! And, for his part, Jiang Wanyin was relaxing enough to exchange a gruff sentence or two with Wen Ning when they wound up stuck together. He even once came to find Wen Ning when he didn’t see him in that stable spot back at one of their regular great houses—he went so far as to extract Wen Ning from a conversation with that week’s snack parent (who was going on and ON about the cleaner farming practices that produced the loquats she was bringing to the kid event) by complaining loudly about their nephews, dragging Wen Ning away while instructing the exact kind of talking to he needs to give A-Yuan. Wen Ning was so confused at being aided intentionally he was actually afraid the boys had had some kind of horrible misunderstanding, apologizing all the way back to the barn, until Jiang Wanyin got annoyed enough to set him straight.
“The kids are fine. Yao-furen is the worst. You were being pitiful—don’t expect it to happen again.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
Jiang Wanyin made a ‘pah’ sound and sat on the ground to charm one of the barn cats, settling in for the wait.
This was fine! Great even! Although, soon Wanyin-watching took a turn for the...different. Sure, Wen Ning had been observing the man, and liked what he saw in a fond, friendly kind of way. Who wouldn’t be impressed after prolonged exposure to someone so fully, explosively, alive? Even time at Wei-gongzi’s side hadn’t prepared him for this level of embodiment in a person. Wei Ying shows thoughts and emotions he wants to display in big ways: a raised voice, flapping arms, things like that; Jiang Wanyin doesn’t show thoughts or emotions, he is them, whether he wants them out or not: aggravation is a clenched jaw or fist, joy a rare, expansive smile, concern is a tightening in the throat, paling in his face, and often shouts about broken legs.
Wen Ning thinks that’s beautiful. He began watching Jiang Wanyin’s mouth for more of those small thoughts, running over it rapidly without speaking in a way he cannot remember the feeling of, noticing the movement of his hands more closely, and maybe, passingly, what a finely built person he is overall. And then the minute changes in his scent that went with those movements. He finds all of these scents in their infinite variation really nice, and yeah, okay, that’s weird, but so is holding perfectly still and hoping other parents won’t find you except for the one whose back you watch for duty and entertainment. It was fine!
And then it wasn’t. Because one day Wen Ning said something a little sharp about the Minister and Jiang Wanyin actually smiled at him. Or in his direction, who really knows, but Wen Ning really hopes it was at him and then he’s wondering what it would be like to touch his mouth, or what the pleased sort of human musk coming from where his hanfu meets his neck would taste like and nope that’s not normal at all. Definitely weird. Wen Ning hoped it was a weird dead-guy thing; just normal fierce corpse stuff, noticing bodies and all that.
Those thoughts get more frequent and intrusive, and it becomes apparent this is the opposite of a dead thing. It feels like the food thing, except more urgent. Also the food thing is from the memory of eating or needing to eat, right? Well Wen Ning would remember if he had felt that he’s pretty sure. It’s kind of like going through puberty, but more so, and about a person, like one person in specific? And that person is his friend’s angry, angry little brother? In any case, his brain is being a jerk and all-around confusing him, (confusing itself!) because those feelings are interesting and all, but they’re preoccupying and there’s no reasonable way to deal with them.
Wen Ning spends a good chunk of time convincing himself he’s been reading too many romance novels in his free time, and been running into Jiang Wanyin far too often lately. He really wants to think that’s all this is, but his matter-of-fact nature will not permit him to delude himself forever. This is a crush, and it will not be fixed with new reading material or less free time.
Looking at it, he has two options: He can avoid Jiang Wanyin entirely, which means giving up most night hunts with A-Yuan, or he can try to befriend him. Befriending Wei Wuxian had led to the eventual leveling out of those feelings, although that was more a case of hero worship than a crush, but he’s sure it could work again! And afterwards, as a bonus, he’ll have another friend. So, this is how Wen Ning decides he and Jiang Wanyin will be friends and all of this chaperone stuff is the story of a great friendship!
Like Wei-gongzi and Hanguang-jun.
Well, not just like them, like before the love part started. Which was before he knew them, apparently. Ok, so bad example, but epic tales of friendship exist, they do!
There is the large issue that the last time they spoke about anything other than the children and petty kid group politics, Wen Ning had handed Jiang Wanyin Suibian alongside Wei Wuxian’s most painful secrets, fully intending to do damage. All of that resentful energy animating him finds a way out now and again, and Jiang Wanyin was such an attractive target that night. Wen Ning knows he’s a good person, but he has not fully acclimated to being something that runs on resentment—he bleeds resentment; literally his blood and humors have been replaced with resentful energy, keeping him together and moving. It’s fascinating, and wonderful, and so very, painfully, inhuman. If he found a way to restore the physical half of the sexual impulse, would resentment stand in for those fluids? Would they be damaging to the living? There’s so much about his existence now he does not know and never asked for.
He would maybe write a letter to Wei-gongzi, ask to visit and do a little extra research or talk through some of his own theories, but really the specifics of his humors should not matter to the material of his existence because he is going to be friends with Jiang Wanyin, and friends don’t play around in one another’s bodily fluids. Wen Ning has survived this long without a lover or a doctor and never felt even a pang of missing something (except in the most tangential his-sister-was-his-doctor kind of way). He plans on continuing to do so.