Waxing Gibbous

by vanerz

It was a quiet night in after a full day of re-establishing Gusu Lan sect partnerships when Wei Wuxian heard Jiang Cheng reach the foot of Fumo Cave. His steps were steady, measured, yet light—no one with their amount of combat experience would mistake what Jiang Cheng had spent the entire war doing. It was funny how things had changed, Wuxian thought, but didn’t dwell on it.

“Jiang Cheng!” he said instead, pitching his voice towards the cave entrance. “Hurry up! I cooked soup for you!”

But no reflexive retort about the flavour of the soup bounced back, something about how spicy the soup was sure to be, and that was when Wuxian knew that Something had happened. And, with the way his shidi had been recently, it wasn’t too hard to guess why.

The years since the war had given him perspective. Annoyingly, his shijie had nothing but praise for the work Qinghe Nie was doing up in the north, and Nie Huaisang seemed to have calmed down from the frenzy he spent most of the war in. At least you saw a person and not a monster when you looked at him now. And maybe—just maybe—Wuxian could even remember the gentle boy from their Gusu days, and wonder where he went.

Jiang Cheng came into view and made a beeline straight for him. The expression on his face made Wuxian’s heart clench. He seemed to be thinking a million things at once, and the words came out of his mouth in a confused rush.

“He knows about Zidian. He's known all this time. Why didn't you tell me?”

Crap.

Wuxian would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t expected Jiang Cheng to ever find out. But that didn’t mean he was prepared for this. He opened his mouth, but was saved from saying something undoubtedly unwise when Jiang Cheng continued,

“He said he needs me. That he would give all of himself to me.”

Ruthless schemer Nie Huaisang, meet carefree childhood Nie Huaisang. Meet desperate crying Huaisang from the time they fought together in the war. Rock, meet Wei Wuxian’s head. And if Nie Huaisang had hurt so much as a hair on Jiang Cheng’s head, blade, meet…

Jiang Cheng faltered. “What do I do?”

Ah.

Wuxian exchanged a look with Lan Zhan cleaning his sword at the far side of the cave, sending him a wordless message to come over and join them. Lan Zhan blinked in incredulity and very much did not.

Wuxian sighed. Shame. Lan Zhan would have had some good advice, but there was always next time.

He cleared out a spot near the walls of the cave, further from the hearth but still within distance of its warmth.

“Come, shidi,” he said, ladling out two bowls of turnip soup and holding one out to Jiang Cheng. “Eat with me…”