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Tell me about that time the Yiling Patriarch accidentally acquired a harem?
Untamed verse
It was Nie Huaisang’s fault.
He would argue it was the fault of the extremely stupid fierce corpse that violently lunged right at him when he was trailing behind his older brother and the others on a night hunt he didn’t want to go on, causing him to hide behind his saber and therefore accidentally taking the first kill of the night; his brother had been so pleased (and trying very hard not to laugh at him) that he’d agreed to Nie Huaisang’s request for a vacation.
He’d even allowed him to go visit Yiling, with one of their cousins saying in passing that Nie Huaisang should probably not let anyone know who he was or why he was there given the political scandal it would cause. Nie Huaisang had left while his brother was still arguing with their cousin about whether or not the Nie sect gave a single fuck about political scandal; he was pretty sure the actual argument they were having by proxy was his brother yet again defending Nie Huaisang’s right to be the heir, and those arguments went better if he wasn’t around.
So he went to Yiling to visit Wei Wuxian. He liked Wei Wuxian, they’d been good friends at the Cloud Recesses no matter how short a time, and he’d liked him every time they’d met afterwards, and really it seemed rude not to come with house-warming presents even if he hadn’t been invited the house-warming party itself.
“I fled here in the middle of the night, in the rain, illegally,” Wei Wuxian said. “There was no party.”
Nie Huaisang patted him on the shoulder. “It’s fine, really. I promise I’m not insulted. I’m very forgettable; you wouldn’t have considered involving me at all.”
“I’m tell you, I didn’t have a party.” Wei Wuxian frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe I should have a party?”
“We are not having a party,” Wen Qing said, sounding a little testy, but Wei Wuxian handed her a plate of meat – it was a traditional house-warming gift, and it wasn’t as if the Unclean Realm wasn’t chock full of people who would be more than happy to go practice their sabers against wild boars so that Nie Huaisang could drag along a preservation chest full of pork – and she stopped complaining.
“We could invite Jiang Cheng,” Nie Huaisang said. “You know he can’t resist an invitation to a party.”
“Did you not hear about the fight -”
“Party invitation.”
“…it might make him less angry, actually.”
“I’ll go get decorations!”
That was how Nie Huaisang found himself in the town at the bottom of the Burial Mounds, shopping; that part was probably still fine, but then he’d made some sort of slip-up in casual chitchat and everyone in the town figured out that he was visiting the Yiling Patriarch.
“Are you one of his disciples?” someone asks.
“No, of course not,” Nie Huaisang said at once, because forget his brother, he had some very scary great-uncles that would find him and rip him to pieces if he ever denied being a Nie.
“Then why are you here? I thought he’d been rejected by the whole cultivation world.”
“Uh,” Nie Huaisang said.
“Is there going to be trouble?”
“I don’t –”
“They’re celebrating something,” another person chimed in, looking at the bags Nie Huaisang was carrying. “What could they possibly be celebrating? A marriage?”
“Definitely not,” Nie Huaisang said.
“You couldn’t possibly be here willingly, could you?”
“No,” Nie Huaisang said, finally annoyed. “I was sent as a sacrifice by the cultivation world to join the dreadful Yiling Patriarch’s harem as a panacea against his threats to conquer the entire world through a little bit of unorthodox cultivation that involves a great deal of complicated flute playing and exactly zero practice because he’s obnoxiously talentedly like that. It’s all very tragic at first, but eventually we will overcome all obstacles and he’ll make me his empress of an empire composed of ghost puppets. Happy now?”
Maybe he should become a writer or something, because apparently they were very happy about it, and the story spread like lightning.
“I cannot believe you,” Wen Qing said, since Wei Wuxian hadn’t yet caught his breath once from all the howling laughter he was doing. “Of all the irresponsible, ridiculous –”
Nie Huaisang wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do about it, and it only got worse when Lan Wangji showed up to visit and just – refused to leave.
That surely wasn’t related to the harem rumors, though of course the presence of an unbearably pretty man like Lan Wangji just made the rumors worse, especially since he was very obviously from a different sect than Nie Huaisang.
According to the rumors, there was intrigue now: a more beautiful concubine had appeared, challenging Nie Huaisang’s efforts to get the redeem the vile Yiling Patriarch through the power of love and a great deal of sex, and of course there would be all sorts of jockeying for position happening.
Jiang Cheng’s furious arrival to yell at Wei Wuxian (and to attend the party, because he really couldn’t resist a party invitation – he hated being left out) only convinced them all that there were at least three separate sects fighting for attention, as if Wei Wuxian were an emperor.
“I can’t – I’m dying –” Wei Wuxian sobbed with laughter, burying his face into Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “Lan Zhan, help. It’s too funny. I’m an emperor now. And I can’t even grow potatoes!”
“Radishes are more efficient,” Wen Qing hissed.
“The common people are really very strange,” Nie Huaisang opined from where he was drawing over in his corner. Wen Qing believed everything to be his fault, so he’d promised that he’d do something nice and calming and not disruptive like drawing; he’d bought himself some ink and a great deal of paper as proof of his good intentions. “They’ll believe anything.”
“Don’t you start,” she snapped. “You’re drawing porn. Of this!”
Wei Wuxian’s head snapped up. “You are? Is it any good? Wait – who is it of?”
“It’d better not be of me with him,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, serving himself some of the pork with radishes. “I’ll kill you.”
“Mostly Second Master Lan,” Nie Huaisang admitted. “He’s the only one staying still long enough for me to get a good view.”
That made Lan Wangji frown and come over – which, joke’s on him, Nie Huaisang has no shame about his excellent artistic skills.
“Oh, well done,” Wei Wuxian said, peeping over Lan Wangji’s shoulder at the artwork. “Is that me with the legs in the air?”
“Yes. Can you pose later so I can get the face right?”
“Obviously yes!”
Lan Wangji’s ears were very red for some reason.
“Shouldn’t Wei Wuxian be the attacker?” Jiang Cheng asked, coming over as well. “Not that I care about any of this. But if the story is that he’s the emperor –”
“I can’t disappoint my readers by breaking up my romance with him,” Nie Huaisang explained. “And between me and Wei-xiong, I’m obviously more fit for the role of the pure maiden in distress – there’s a great deal of convention in erotic art circles, you wouldn’t expect it – and so I’m having Second Master Lan be the seducer instead, see? That way there is even more conflict.”
“I’m still going to kill you for including my brother,” Wen Qing said.
“I didn’t give him any sex scenes! He’s a wallflower! And you’re the Yiling Patriarch’s right hand man; what more do you want?”
“For my brother not to have fans that want to see him naked!”
“How do you even know about that?” Wei Wuxian asked.
“I read the mail,” Wen Qing said. “We’ve gotten an awful lot of it in the last week.”
“…is there any about me?” Jiang Cheng, who’d never met a competition he didn’t have to win, asked.
“Oh, yes, you’re very popular, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “I included some falsified backstory about the two of you being childhood friends torn apart by Wei-xiong’s turn to evil and unorthodoxy –”
Both of them looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“– and now everyone wants to see you have a sandwich with the Wen sibilings.”
“Have a sandwich?” Jiang Cheng asked, distracted. “Are they hungry or something?”
“They certainly want to lick –”
“A sandwich means what,” Jiang Cheng yelled after Wei Wuxian finished whispering in his ear.
I am very capable of drawing shirtless men without top surgery scars (lies)
If you’re wearing metal equipment during a thunderstorm, you get a short warning before you’re struck b–JESUS CHRIST
Im scared