Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Biologically Determined Dom/sub Roles, BDSM, Bad BDSM etiquette, Sadism, Masochism, Past Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Self-Harm, BDSM as a Form of Self-Harm, Minor Character Death(s), Arson, Shades of Black Widow Wei Wuxian, Extremely Dubious Consent, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Normalized Homosexuality and Bisexuality, Normalized Polyamory, Nonsexual BDSM, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Pining Wei Wuxian, Jealous Wei Wuxian, Touch-Starved Wei Wuxian, Professional Dominant Wei Wuxian, Sex Worker Wei Wuxian, Gentle Dom Lan Wangji, Mean Dom Lan Wangji, Oblivious Lan Wangji, Past Wen Chao/Wei Wuxian, Minor Jin Guangyao/Wei Wuxian, Mentioned Wei Wuxian/Others, Emotional Infidelity, Angst with a Happy Ending, Endgame Wangxian, Mo Xuanyu Also Gets a Happy Ending, the tags are scary but i promise there's some lightheartedness too, wangxian love one another so much, wei wuxian is healed by the power of nonsexual bdsm and friendship, and then gets bdsm'd quite sexually and happily by the love of his life, Additional Warnings In Author's Note
“It looks exactly the same,” Wei Wuxian says, as Jiang Cheng leads him through Lotus Pier’s residential space, the only thing that remains of that name with the company lost. At first, he speaks with wonder in his voice, even the normal wear and tear of existence is minimal, but when he really thinks about it, it’s like Jiang Cheng has trapped the place in amber, protecting it fiercely, but not truly living in it either. He doesn’t like that thought quite as much.
As they sprawl beside one another with bottles of water in the living room, a complicated mix of sadness and fondness works through Wei Wuxian on Jiang Cheng’s behalf. He is stubborn, Jiang Cheng is, but it pains Wei Wuxian to think that he has accepted the role of steward of an empty monument to a family that left him far too soon. When he glances at the pictures of their parents hanging on the wall, he feels judged and found wanting.
They say nothing for a time, and then chat about nothing for even longer. It’s only when they run out of nonsense to talk that Jiang Cheng says anything real, and even then, Wei Wuxian isn’t ready for it.
“There was a case being built against him, you know?”
“Who?” But as soon as Wei Wuxian asks, he knows the answer. He doesn’t want to think about that answer, though, and he doesn’t want to think about Jiang Cheng knowing the answer.
Again, Jiang Cheng falls silent, unable to speak. He tries though. He tries like hell. He keeps inhaling and then releasing the breath. Inhaling, releasing. Finally, “I was helping.” His voice cracks. “That’s why I was there that day. I didn’t think—” Jiang Cheng cuts himself off with the brutality of a sledgehammer striking stone.
Wei Wuxian feels that strike right in the center of his chest, painful enough to rouse a roil of nausea within him. All he can do is stare at Jiang Cheng, horrified, as he tries to accept this fact, this pointless, useless, unnecessary fact. Jiang Cheng risked his life? For this? For nothing? For Wei Wuxian to undermine that effort within months? “You did what?”
“I’m not saying it again,” Jiang Cheng replies coolly. “We’re not talking about it again, but I thought you needed to know.”
“Would our parents be at ease knowing you did such a thing?” He feels a headache brewing behind his eyes. “Why would you…?”
“You think I don’t know? I knew I wasn’t going to make it out, but—I wanted to give you a chance. I wore a camera that was…” He clears his throat. “It was transmitting live just in case.”
“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian says, unable to keep the despair from his voice. To think he’d come so close to losing Jiang Cheng because of this. “Don’t be stupid. I didn’t need a chance. I—” Lungs seizing, Wei Wuxian swallows. “I’m supposed to protect you, not the other way around.”
His younger brother went into that hellhole knowing he wouldn’t get out. How is he supposed to lift his head with dignity?
“I didn’t know you’d be there.” Jiang Cheng swallows, too, and looks away. His throat is dry enough that Wei Wuxian hears the click of it as it bobs. “I mean… I knew you were there. But I didn’t think…” High color floods his cheeks, and pain etches itself in the wrinkles beginning to form between his eyebrows and around his mouth. “I didn’t think we’d have to see one another like that.”
“You shouldn’t have had to see it,” Wei Wuxian says fiercely, “and I’m sorry you did. It was disgraceful. It was—”
“You shouldn’t have had to be there to begin with.” A furious tremor shakes Jiang Cheng’s words. “I still don’t know why he let me go. What my mother did was—”
He let you go to torment me.
But second mother did what she felt she had to, and it’s done with now. No need to rehash it endlessly between the two of them. It looks like they’ve both done more than enough of it on their own.
“Let’s not live in the past,” he says, making a promise in his own heart to take his own advice. For himself, he couldn’t have made it, but maybe for Jiang Cheng, he can. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s forgiven. I can’t blame her for wanting to protect who and what she could.”
Jiang Cheng scowls terribly, but that just means he knows Wei Wuxian’s right. “And what if I can’t forgive her?”
“Think about it. Things aren’t so terrible now, right? I’m here. You’re here. We’re both doing better than I ever expected us to turn out. What second mother did doesn’t have to matter any longer.” It would be easy to believe these things when he says them to Jiang Cheng, easy enough that he might start to believe them, too.
If he has to blame anything, he thinks he’ll blame that for the way he starts thinking about old times, better times, how to honor those days and their parents properly.
Wei Wuxian flops back onto the couch. “It would be almost like old times if Lotus Pier went back to normal, wouldn’t it?” Even as he says it, he sees a path opening for him, a purpose, something to do with his life that isn’t just moping about Lan Zhan. He doesn’t know if it’s what he wants precisely, but he doesn’t have any better ideas either. “We could build the company back up.”
“I wasn’t able to protect it,” Jiang Cheng answers, angry again. “You lost ten years because of it. Why would you want—” He makes a sound, low in the back of his throat, frustrated and cornered. “I don’t want to talk about this.” Unhappy, he pushes himself to his feet and swipes up his empty bottle of water. He takes Wei Wuxian’s, too, though it’s not, like he’s tidying up out of habit.
“Jiang Cheng!”
But Jiang Cheng isn’t interested in sticking around.
Wei Wuxian takes a swipe at Jiang Cheng’s shirt, but fails to grab him.
*
Without Jiang Cheng to entertain him, Wei Wuxian wanders the halls and pokes his head into the rooms he remembers from his childhood. Eventually, he finds himself pulled to inextricably is his parents’ room.
For a time, he merely stands in the doorway, remembering the way jiejie and he would sneak into their room sometimes, Jiang Cheng tailing after them, pretending he was only there to yell at Wei Wuxian for bothering second mother and father. Jiejie would call out, saying she liked how her second mother braided her hair and she needed A-Ying and A-Cheng for company.
The bed had seemed huge then, but looking at it now, it’s very small. It was probably a nightmare for them, three little bodies clamoring all over them, jostling and shouting and fighting all over the place. Even so, they barely scolded him and his siblings, and spent a great deal more of the time cuddling them close instead.
After they died, none of them were allowed in. None of them even talked about it. It was like they never went in at all.
When he finally steps inside, he feels as though he’s doing something illicit. Because this is the only way he can know them now, he does it anyway, grimacing at the fine layers of dust that coat most of the room. They wouldn’t want it to molder like this.
Their clothes hang in the closest still, years out of date, but classic pieces all the same. He pulls down one of his mother’s favorite robes and holds it up to his own body. The color is a little brighter than the muted shades that might have been expected of her, but it’s beautiful, and it pleases him that she went her own way in this, even if he’s lost that boldness for himself. Though it feels strange to see such pops of color juxtaposed against his own skin, it’s not as strange as it would have before the days he spent with Lan Zhan and Mo Xuanyu.
She must have been tall. The hem reaches exactly where it ought to on him, too.
The scent is a bit musty, so he takes them out and hand washes them in a tub he hauls outside, diligent as he checks for stains in the sunlight. When he was very young, he watched his father doing this, learning from him how to care for these items. This knowledge helped him when he went to Cloud Recesses, where everyone was made to wash their own robes by hand. It’s meditative, soothing. When he hangs them to dry, he’s pleased by his accomplishment.
Spurred by this pleasure, he returns to their room with a duster, a mop for the en suite bathroom, the vacuum. Some of it he has to hunt down, but even that is fun in its way. Methodically, he scrubs the dust from the room, throws open the window, takes the duvet from the bed and beats it outside. It passes the hours and by the time he’s done, his mind is more at ease. Even his fears for Jiang Cheng have abated. He’s been okay this whole time. Wei Wuxian’s presence here won’t break him.
Happy, he begins tidying other items, shelves, knickknacks, the like. He casually flicks through the envelopes and detritus that have gathered in his father’s desk. At first, what he finds is of little consequence, but he organizes it anyway. In the bottom of the desk’s largest drawer, he finds a fire-safe locked box.
Part of him thinks he ought to leave it alone, but the rest of him spins the dials a few times, landing on his own birth date as the combination on a whim. It opens for him. He thinks maybe it wasn’t meant to be a secret, just safe from harm.
Though he oughtn’t pry, his curiosity gets the better of him. Flicking open the lid, he peers inside. A stack of photos and a few letters greet him. He lays them out on the desk, fanning them like particularly precious playing cards. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes as he looks at his parents, young and happy, next to second mother and father, who are equally incandescent, equally beautiful, equally young and happy and carefree. He can see the love they shared for one another, and wishes he knew why that love couldn’t carry on after his parents’ death. Every photo, in this respect, is the same.
He suspects he’ll never understand fully.
He returns everything to the box except for one of the pictures and puts the box back in the drawer for now.
*
When he reaches his own room, thoroughly exhausted, he expects he’ll have to do the same cleaning routine here.
But when he opens the door, he discovers that it’s spotless. Not just spotless, but freshly cared for. Not a single speck of dust mars his room. It feels as though he’s stepped into a bubble, timeless, entombed. When he pulls open the drawers, he finds his clothing has been wrapped in tissue paper and scented with jiejie’s favorite potpourri, which means it’s his favorite scent in the world except maybe for the inflexible sandalwood he has always associated with Lan Zhan.
Before he feels too overwhelmed by Jiang Cheng’s gesture, he grabs a set of pajamas and hip checks the drawer closed, tossing the packet onto the bed. Because he can’t help it, and wants to get every possible surprise out of the way now, he continues to search the room.
In the closet, everything is zipped into garment bags. His books are organized by his own convoluted system, bursting from the shelves second father had installed for him as a birthday present when he was twelve. More than a few of his toys and action figures are displayed, too, even older than that, all as pristine as they were the day he left. Or as pristine as such things belonging to a teenage boy could be.
He has little strength to continue his investigation, chest full and clotted with emotion, but after he’s changed into the pajama bottoms that are a shade too small, he stares at the ceiling for long minutes before slipping his hand beneath the pillow to adjust it. Something there bites into the skin of his palm, making him jump in surprise.
Instinctively, he tosses aside the pillow, heart racing, and finds a thick envelope constructed of aged paper. His name has been penned in a restrained hand, the calligraphy perfunctory, but otherwise unremarkable. This is second mother’s hand at work. He opens the flap at the top, dreading what he’ll find.
What is there left to be said between them that she felt moved to write a letter?
It’s dated a few months before she and second father died. Did she leave it in his room, expecting he’d be back for it? Or did Jiang Cheng find it when dealing with their estate and move it here? He supposes the answer doesn't matter.
Though it’s only a handful of sentences at most, read through within seconds, it brings fresh tears to his eyes, and will no doubt linger in his mind for far longer than that. Though it’s addressed to him, it feels more as though it’s for her than him. Where it might have served as a comfort, it could never have reached him.
I’m sorry that it was easier to abandon you to them.
I will do what I can to get you back.
I hope Zhao Zhuliu has protected you.
It’s water under the bridge, he reminds himself, even as the weight of it bears down on him. He doesn’t love her—cannot love her, after everything—but he does not loathe her. She made the best call she could have under the circumstances, he thinks. Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have survived. Jiejie wouldn’t have. But he could, and she saw that. He is alive to be jiejie and Jiang Cheng’s brother, Wen Ning and Wen Qing’s co-conspirator, Mo Xuanyu’s friend, Lan Zhan’s…
Lan Zhan’s deepest admirer.
He is alive, and they wouldn’t be, and that makes it worth it.
He tucks the letter inside the envelope and doesn’t know what to do with it once it’s safely secured inside. It changes nothing except the ache in his chest, which grows to accommodate her regret, too. It grows until it fits the shape of him, sticking to his skin, then even bigger. It rends itself in two, it grows so big, and in that rending, it renders itself futile, powerless. At some point, these things have to break, don’t they?
He’s tired of regret, and he’s tired of being the vector by which other people find their own reasons to regret. Second mother, Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng, jiejie, Wen Qing. He cannot cut the cords of their regret, but he can show them how unnecessary they are.
He can live a good life. He can build Lotus Pier into something better than it was. None of what has happened must be in vain.
Before he can overthink it, before the regret within him can hang itself on his skeleton through new hooks, he calls Lan Zhan. The phone only rings once before it’s picked up. Lan Zhan will help.
“Wei Ying,” he says, breathless. He sounds tired, lost, afraid. He does not sound like Wei Wuxian’s Lan Zhan at all. “Is everything alright?”
“I’m fine. Are you alright?”
Lan Zhan huffs in what might be amusement, bitter, hard-edged. This, too, is nothing like Lan Zhan usually sounds. “I’m well. How can I help?”
Wei Wuxian has never had an easy time of asking for help.
He asks for help.
Wei Wuxian pushes down the guilt he feels at Lan Zhan thinking he’d only call Lan Zhan if he needed something—and for that being the truth in this case. “Lan Zhan, I… there is something.”
“Anything,” Lan Zhan says quickly.
“Do you know much about what happened with Lotus Pier?”
“Somewhat,” Lan Zhan replies. “Only what anyone might know who is in the industry generally. The rumors were widespread for a time unfortunately.”
“Do you think it would be possible to rebuild it?”
“Have you talked to Jiang Wanyin?”
Wei Wuxian stares at the ceiling, closes his eyes. It would be for the best to do so, but he knows Jiang Cheng will make it difficult if he doesn’t have a solid plan, will pick and pick at it until there’s nothing left. Besides, he doesn’t want to rub Jiang Cheng’s face in his mistakes. Of course he hasn’t. “Not about this.”
“I see,” Lan Zhan says. For a time, he pauses, and Wei Wuxian begins to think he’ll have to deal with Lan Zhan choosing to keep this secret. But Lan Zhan is loyal to him, not Jiang Cheng. “From my understanding, the company was sold off piece by piece to other companies.” He sighs. “I don’t know that there’s enough left to start it again precisely as it was.”
Wei Wuxian peppers him with more questions, digging into specifics and dredging his own memory, reconstructing his knowledge from nothing. Lan Zhan’s knowledge of the rumors and his analyses are more in depth than an expert’s might be. “I should have gone to school for this,” he says. “You really do this all day?”
“You don’t need to have gone to school to understand.” He pauses long enough that Wei Wuxian thinks he might be done speaking. Then: “You understand the most important thing already.”
“And what’s that?”
“Being the most powerful Dominant in the room guarantees nothing.”
“Lan Zhan…”
“Wei Ying, I know you have been afraid, and for very good reason, but the moment you realize you can control them, you will be unstoppable.” He pauses, giving Wei Wuxian time to catch his breath from hearing such a wild thing. “They are as tangled up in their nature as you.”
Control, power. These are things he couldn’t give less of a shit about. Leave it to Dominants to fight it out over scraps of prestige. He’d feed fish in the morning, afternoon, and evening if he could, read poetry to his beloved, give the control to his beloved that his beloved needs to feel comfortable and safe. Other than that, he wants to do right by what his family built. None of these things should have anything to do with the other, except that society says they must.
Lan Zhan, nervous, says, “That is not to excuse us—”
“Lan Zhan,” he says, cutting Lan Zhan off before he can apologize for existing, too, “will you help me put it back together?”
It’s easier to ask for it this time. A wonder, that. Maybe one day, he’ll be as shameless as he used to be, too.
“Of course,” Lan Zhan says quickly. “Anything you need from me, you can have it.”