Thread by @Suibian_gongzi

#MoXuanyuWeek2023 day one: found family

mo xuanyu has spent his whole life being a disappointment to everybody, so it is to his great surprise when he’s selected to join the handful of jin disciples sent to the lectures at cloud recesses

a privilege of his position as jin guangshan’s son, he knows, and not something he earned through any merit of his own. he is, after all, the only one of the chief cultivator’s children who is of the right age, even if he a bastard

well, he’s used to accepting scraps

if it takes a bit of nepotism to get him something as coveted as a place at the gusu lectures, he’s hardly going to protest

not that he thinks it will do much good

mo xuanyu is a weak cultivator. he started late, after all; at sixteen, he is by far the least adept of his peers. his sword work is lacking, his golden core more of a seed. he struggles to learn, and pretends not to care, to cover for his faults

after all, if he admits he’s really trying, then he has to admit he’s really failing

so. he doesn’t think the lectures will do him much good, but they’ll get him away from his father and brothers, from the eyes and sneers of most of the jin sect

and he’d be a fool to refuse the privilege. mo xuanyu is many things, but a fool isn’t one of them

which is all to say. the summer he is sixteen, mo xuanyu climbs the mountain above caiyi town with the cohort of jin disciples, and enters cloud recesses

he carries with him the double-edged honor of being his father’s son, and as such, draws the whispers of the other sects’ disciples as he presents the jins’ gift to lan-zongzhu

he’s seen zewu-jun before, of course, on his many visits to lanling, but zewu-jun always spends his time with jin guangyao, so this is the first time he’s been this close to him. zewu-jun’s eyes are kind, he smiles gently as he accepts the gift from mo xuanyu’s hands

he finds himself bashful under that smile, feeling sharply that he has done nothing to earn that. that there is no kindness in the world that does not come with a price, an expectation

lan qiren, at least, spares no smiles for anyone during the lectures. he is harsh without cruelty, strictly uncompromising but never mocks failure

mo xuanyu appreciates that, for he fails often

zewu-jun, occupied with the work of a sect leader, does not teach, but to the awe and wonder of everyone but the lan disciples, the famed hanguang-jun does

he, too, spares few smiles, but he is gentler than his uncle, and where his brother is kind, hanguang-jun bears a dignified sorrow

mo xuanyu finds himself drawn to it, as he has always been drawn to the sharp edges of pain and the trace of darkness

it surprises him to find that hanguang-jun, of all people, has a shadow about him. no one else seems to notice it, but most people look only for light

it is mo xuanyu alone who seeks to dig his fingers into bruises

which is all to say. mo xuanyu makes it through one week at the lectures before he finds himself in trouble

what rule he broke he isn’t sure, because he honestly couldn’t remember all the rules even if he tried, and he didn’t try. really the surprise is that he made a whole week

so. instead of spending his free hours avoiding the other jin disciples, he’s in the library copying rules until his eyes ache and his neck aches and his arm aches—

when the doors open and shut, and two boys in lan white enter

they both wear the headbands of the lan inner sect, but they’re younger than the lans he’s been studying beside. he thinks they look about jin ling’s age, maybe ten, one of them hiss-whispering seriously to the other

“if you keep interrupting, you wouldn’t keep having to copy lines!”

“at least it’s not handstands this time. my shoulders still hurt!”

“can’t you just ask your questions *after* the lesson?” says the serious one, with a weary sigh as if he’s a hundred and not ten

“i would if i could!” says the other boy, “but i just can’t! i think of a question and then it pops out of my mouth!”

“i could try learning the silencing spell and putting it on you during lessons,” offers the serious boy, and then they both catch sight of mo xuanyu

mo xuanyu looks down at his own copied lines, the characters getting progressively sloppier as he gets more tired, and his cheeks feel hot. it’s bad enough to be in trouble, but now these lans kids have seen him, and he’s eavesdropped, and they know he’s eavesdropped

there’s probably a rule in here about not eavesdropping. he wouldn’t know. his head is so stuffed with rules he can’t remember any of them

“good evening, mo-gongzi,” says the serious boy, and he startles

“you— know my name?”

the kid bows. he’s way more polite than jin ling

“well,” says the kid with the big mouth, “it would have been rude to assume your name is jin just cause you’re from lanling, and sizhui is never rude”

“jingyi!” hisses sizhui, looking agonized

“what?”

“now *that* was rude!”

“how was i rude?”

“you made— implications! about the jin sect!” sizhui twists his hands together

“but everyone knows—“ jingyi says, looking so genuinely baffled that mo xuanyu can’t even be offended

“it’s okay,” mo xuanyu says. “he’s right, anyway, so it’s hardly an implication”

“anyway, i’m mo xuanyu.” he lifts his chin a little. “i’m stuck doing lines, too.”

sizhui goes pink and bows again. “and i’m lan yuan, courtesy name sizhui, and this is lan—“

“hi, i’m jingyi! what did you do to get punished?”

so. mo xuanyu ends up in the library doing lines with a ten year old and his friend who’s apparently nice enough to keep him company, and is maybe also making sure jingyi actually does his punishment

sizhui doesn’t approve of them talking in the library, but jingyi keeps muttering comments about the rules and mo xuanyu heartily agrees with him and eventually sizhui gives up and just sits there looking long suffering

there’s something familiar about him. it takes mo xuanyu most of the time in the library to place it. he’s seen lan sizhui before, walking with hanguang-jun. he has the same air of gravity even in his youth, and, too, the same clinging shadow

a few days later, after their lectures and while he’s avoiding the other guest disciples, mo xuanyu accidentally stumbles on a lesson

hanguang-jun, surrounded by juniors, going through sword forms

he stops to watch. lan jingyi and lan sizhui are both near the front of the class, and even at ten, their movements are elegant, flowing. he’s fascinated, and feels at the same time the sinking certainty that he will never be as good with a sword as these kids are at ten

every day after, he sneaks off to watch hanguang-jun teach, and in the evenings he sneaks off among the trees and the bamboo down by the streams that run through cloud recesses, and tries his best to mimic what he saw

“hey!” a voice whisper-yells at him one evening. “those are lan forms! you’re not supposed to be doing that!”

mo xuanyu jumps so badly he nearly drops his sword. but it’s just lan jingyi, glimmering in white among the trees

“isn’t it past your curfew?” he snaps back, furious

“i won’t tell if you won’t,” jingyi says, and folds his arms over his chest. “besides, you’re doing it wrong”

“oh yeah? why don’t you come here and show me how to do it, then,” mo xuanyu says, loud, his temper rising

he’s scared of being caught. of maybe being sent home in disgrace. all because some nosy kid can’t keep his own clan’s curfew

so he’s surprised when jingyi stomps down out of the trees, snatches the sword from his hand, and says, “it goes like *this*”

“this isn’t a very good sword,” jingyi says, frowning. “is that why you’re so clumsy?”

“wow, rude.” mo xuanyu grabs his sword back, ears burning. it’s not really a good sword, it’s not even really *his,* just a sword pulled out the jin vault for him. but it’s all he has

“sorry,” jingyi mutters, “sizhui would say you’re clumsy because you don’t really know the forms. actually, sizhui wouldn’t say anything”

“where is he, anyway? he doesn’t break curfew with you?”

“no way, he’s having dinner with hanguang-jun. no, no, you’re holding it WRONG”

jingyi grabs a branch off the ground, and for all that he’s a mouthy little brat (especially for a lan) he still manages to look elegant even doing the form with a stick

grudgingly, mo xuanyu copies him, again and again, until it’s gotten properly dark and jingyi finally nods

“that’s pretty good. i should really be getting back though…” he shoots a nervous look over his shoulder

they do not manage to return to their quarters unnoticed

they do end up copying the rules in the library, again, under sizhui’s fondly exasperated eye

“he’s a guest, but jingyi, you should *know better!*”

“we were just… we were, uh…” but apparently even jingyi can’t bring himself to break the rule about lying to his friend

“jingyi was showing me around,” mo xuanyu says. “we lost track of time. it was my fault”

he doesn’t mind taking the blame. it was, after all, at least partly his fault. jingyi shoots him a grateful look

after sizhui leaves, he whispers across the library, “thanks, mo-gege. i’ll show you the second form tonight if you like”

they slip out of cloud recesses together after classes, but before dinner. no getting caught out late this time

or so they think

they’re partway through the second form and a voice calls, “jingyi! what are you doing!”

sizhui comes fluttering down the path. he isn’t — quite — running, but it’s close

“you’re gonna be in so much trouble! what if you get caught?” he comes to a halt in front of his friend

“but his sword work is terrible!” jingyi says, “and besides, didn’t you just catch us?”

mo xuanyu’s heart sinks. yes, it stings to have his sword work called terrible by a literal child, but they really have been caught. by little mini hanguang-jun himself

he entertains a brief fantasy of running away before he can get in trouble. would he be a terrible person if he beat up two kids?

on the other hand, it’s more likely these two kids could beat *him* up. he stays where he is while they whisper argue at each other

it’s loud enough he can hear, but they’ve switched to the local dialect so he can barely understand them anyway

finally, sizhui rounds on him

“i’m taking you to hanguang-jun. come with me. both of you”

mo xuanyu’s heart jumps to his throat. “no way, kid. besides, i’m older than you, you can’t tell me what to do”

“and i’m your host, you have to listen to me,” sizhui says, going bright pink. “or— or i’ll tell uncle!”

it takes him a moment to realize he means lan qiren, and mo xuanyu rapidly decided he’d rather face hanguang-jun than lan qiren. hanguang-jun, at least, probably won’t raise his voice

mo xuanyu hates being shouted at. it makes him want to climb out of his skin with fear

still, he follows sizhui up the winding path and into a thick grove of bamboo feeling like he’s walking to his doom. thinking of all the shame ahead of him. hanguang-jun will tell his kind-eyed brother, and sect leader lan will tell jin guangshan…

he will be sent back to lanling in disgrace, and the chief cultivator has no place in his home for sons who disgrace him

he’s ruined everything

all for trying a sword form he shouldn’t have, all because he just wanted a chance to be good at something

he’s thrown his life away

the bamboo opens up to reveal a house with a thatched roof, a pond, a backdrop of more bamboo, thick and green and vanishing into darkness. as if the house is surrounded and protected by a great green shadow

is this where hanguang-jun lives? mo xuanyu shivers, passes under the gate. he doesn’t feel he has any right to be in hanguang-jun’s personal quarters, even to be punished

the man himself is standing on the balcony over the pond, hands clasped behind his back, as if he’s waiting for them, though he can’t possibly have known

“a-yuan,” he says, voice soft and surprisingly warm, “jingyi. and mo-gongzi. a pleasant surprise”

not very pleasant, mo xuanyu thinks. he’d rather be anywhere but here. suddenly he’d even rather be beaten and yelled at by lan qiren than here. the quiet is too much, the gentleness too much. he hates the knowledge it’s going to turn nasty just as soon as sizhui tells

“hanguang-jun!” sizhui says, hurrying ahead of them. jingyi glances at mo xuanyu, who can only look back. at least they’re in this together

“jingyi was teaching mo-gege the lan beginning forms, but…” sizhui looks back at them.

“why don’t you three come inside”

no, mo xuanyu thinks, he can’t possibly be allowed into hanguang-jun’s house

“i made jingyi teach me!” he says suddenly, loudly. somewhere, a bird flies up out of the bamboo.

“mo-gege!” says jingyi

“i threatened to get him in trouble if he didn’t!” mo xuanyu lifts his chin

“i see,” says hanguang-jun, just as softly, just as gently. suddenly, mo xuanyu hates him. where’s the shadow beneath the light? where’s the anger beneath the gentleness? “is this true, jingyi?”

but jingyi won’t lie. mo xuanyu scrambles to think of something else to say that won’t incriminate the boy

“i threatened to beat him up in the library,” he rambles on. “because i wanted to learn the lan sword forms to impress my father!”

“i was speaking to jingyi.”

still, there is no anger in hanguang-jun’s voice. he does not shout. he does not raise a hand

jingyi bites his lip, looking between sizhui and mo xuanyu

“not… not really,” he mumbles. “I mean we sort of threatened each other, but…”

“but jingyi says he doesn’t have a proper sword,” says sizhui

“and he’s really clumsy!” says jingyi

“jingyi thinks the jins haven’t been teaching him very well,” says sizhui

“so it’s not fair that he’s getting in trouble at lectures he’s not been prepared for!” jingyi finishes

hanguang-jun looks between them, and still there is no anger, only a quiet interest

“well,” he says at last, “mo-gongzi, you cannot continue to learn the lan sword forms”

mo xuanyu looks down, nods. “i understand, hanguang-jun”

“however…” hanguang-jun continues

“neither do i feel it would be productive to punish any of you.”

“really?” says jingyi brightly

and sizhui hisses, “shh!”

hanguang-jun ignores them, but mo xuanyu could almost swear the corner of his mouth twitched. did he just *smile?*

“if you would like, mo-gongzi, and if you are willing to give up your free time after lessons, i would be willing to tutor you privately for the duration of the lectures. to amend the injustice of your position among your peers. if your training has, in fact, been so neglected”

mo xuanyu feels his jaw go slack. he never imagined he would hear even the faintest suggestion of criticism of his family from hanguang-jun, least of all in his defense!

“this humble mo xuanyu is unworthy of your tutelage,” he whispers, all defiance gone

“this unworthy disciple would not presume on the time of hanguang-jun, who surely has far more important matters to attend to.”

“kindly allow me to decide what is worth my time, mo-gongzi,” hanguang-jun says gently

jingyi nudges him in the ribs. “say yes, mo-gege!”

and how can he say no? how can he possibly say no to such an offer, no matter what the price of such kindness turns out to be. he would be a fool to refuse, and mo xuanyu is a many things, but a fool is not one of them.

he bows deeply. “this humble one thanks you.”

and so, mo xuanyu finds himself in the jingshi after lectures, and finds that hanguang-jun’s kindness has no price except his own attention, and so long as he tries, even his failures receive no reprimand

often, he’s joined by sizhui and jingyi, who, in the space of a summer are more brothers to him than any jin has ever been, and in that house in the shadow of the bamboo, he feels more comfortable than he ever has in koi tower.

so. when inevitably comes his fall from grace in the eyes of his family and sect, when he is cast out for once again seeking knowledge that was forbidden to him

he has another place to go, other family to greet him, a safe place in the mountains to call home.

—END—

@threadreaderapp unroll pls