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In the Midst of Chaos [MDZS, YaoCheng]
Title: In the Midst of Chaos
Fandom: MDZS | The Untamed
Pairing/Characters: Meng Yao / Jiang Cheng
Rating: M
Warnings:
Word Count: 4,508, one-shot
Summary: Modern day AU. Title from the Sun Tzu saying, “In the Midst of Chaos, there is also opportunity.” Prompt fill for The Untamed Kink Meme 2021 Q1:
Prompt: JGY cracks a bone* at his own wedding. He pulls through the ceremony and the reception without anyone noticing anything. His partner finds out on the way to the bedroom and is Not Impressed.
*it doesn’t break all the way through but it still hurts like hell
Bonus: JGY is secretly superstitious, not just concerned about appearances.
Ships: Chengyao, Nieyao or Xueyao (if sex comes up at all, bottom JGY)
Canon: CQL jianghu or modern
Jin Guangyao is not and never has been superstitious. It’s important to establish that from the get-go, because he understands that, from a certain light, his completely valid concerns might come off as, to borrow a phrase from Nie Huaisang, fucking delusional as all fuck.
But he’s not superstitious. The chain of cause and effect is clear.
When Jin Guangyao was 12, he purchased a flower for his mother. This flower, he discovered on his walk home, had 8 petals. Meng Shi received the flower from her son with a smile as she always did, and she fussed for some time to find a container and water to place it in. This distraction prevented her from hearing her phone for several minutes, and she ended up missing a call to entertain at a party that would later be called The Stripper Massacre by the local media.
Is that not enough evidence?
When Jin Guangyao was 15, he purchased a milk bun from the convenience store. The milk buns were on the fourth rack, and later that day, his own father pushed him out of his life and down the stairs of his towering townhome.
His mother’s work sisters smirked and sneered at his fears all through his childhood, so he knows better than to share any of his insights. When he and Nie Mingjue have their explosive breakup and he and Lan Xichen have their gentle, amicable one, Jin Guangyao doesn’t mention the scissors he found, mysteriously misplaced in his office. When he and Xue Yang begin their frankly bizarre and short-lived affair, Jin Guangyao doesn’t mention the lost necklace he found on the street beneath his flat.
And then, one early morning, Jin Guangyao stumbles outside on his way to work and catches sight of the sunrise. He knows, in theory, that the sun rises every morning, but on this morning, the bright colours snag his attention, and as the sleep fog slowly fades from his eyes, he swears that the streaks of red, air-polluted clouds spell out the sign for harmonious relationships.
That’s the day he meets Jiang Wanyin.
~
“A-Yao,” says the new Madam Jin at the first large party hosted by the Jins after her wedding. “Please, come meet my baby brother.” Jin Guangyao did not grow up in the same elite circles as his father’s family, and so his acquaintanceship with his brother’s wife began with the couple’s courtship, shortly after his father was forced to legitimize him. It took Jin Guangyao months of smiling at Jiang Yanli over tea before he began to realise that her kindness may not be manufactured. He had, at this point, already met, loved, and lost Lan Xichen, and to think that two people this gentle and loving could exist on the same planet at the same time was beyond all comprehension. And yet, they do, and as they do, Jin Guangyao can only imagine that this child brother must either share the impossibly gentle spirit of his sister, or perhaps carry the same painful shyness as Lan Xichen’s younger brother.
Jin Guangyao follows Jiang Yanli across the Jin banquet hall. He expects to be led to a quiet corner hiding a small, wide-eyed teenager. He’s already thinking of ways to ingratiate himself with this new relation—likely he would appreciate a gentle introduction to some of the other boys his own age.
He does not expect to be led to the loudest table in the hall.
“A-Cheng,” says Jiang Yanli, smiling up at a man—not a child—without an apparent concern for the way he’s holding Nie Huaisang up by his collar and shaking him while yelling at what Jin Guangyao hopes is his top volume. The alternative is terrifying. “This is a-Xuan’s brother, a-Yao.”
“Brother?” asks ‘a-Cheng,’ putting Nie Huaisang down with a final shake. “Why wasn’t I introduced to him before? Why wasn’t he at the tea ceremony?” He frowns at Jin Guangyao, who is accustomed enough to immediate criticism that his benign expression never flickers.
“Jin Guangshan announced that a-Yao couldn’t make it,” Jiang Yanli replies, and though her tone is still warm, and nothing about her general demeanour seems to have changed, nevertheless something about her aura seems displeased.
Jin Guangyao takes that as his cue and explains, “Yes, I had another appointment. For the doctor, I think he said?” He smiles wryly, inviting the group to share in the joke. After all, everyone knows that his mother isn’t his father’s wife, and everyone knows how she earned a living, and everyone has an opinion about it. No one was surprised, or even sincerely offended, at Jin Guangyao’s exclusion from the intimate portion of the wedding.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asks Jiang Yanli’s brother, apparently the only person in all of the Chinese-speaking world who hasn’t heard this story. “And why should that bastard Jin Guangshan have the final say in your wedding? Does your peacock of a husband ever do anything?”
“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli chides, though she doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the name-calling. “You know that the Jin clan does things differently.”
Her brother scoffs, clearly unimpressed. His eyes settle on Jin Guangyao appraisingly. “And what did you do that got you kicked out of the ceremony? Even Jin Zixun made the cut. Somehow.”
“Well, young master, I—”
“Jiang Wanyin.”
Jin Guangyao tilts his head compliantly, but he’s unsettled—not by the interruption, but by his uncertainty in how to interpret it. He was not given a full name by Jiang Yanli, it’s true, so maybe this is a simple introduction. Even dismissing his comparatively low status, it seems unlikely that he would be given permission to address this elite heir so informally on first meeting, family ties or no. “Well, Master Jiang,” he amends.
“Jiang. Wan. Yin,” the man says, enunciating each tone as though the issue at hand were Jin Guangyao’s hearing rather than the demands of basic etiquette.
Jin Guangyao hesitates, unsure how to proceed.
“Please, a-Yao,” says Jiang Yanli. “We Jiangs are a much more informal group. And are we not all family now? I hope you will call my brother by his name.”
“Well… Jiang Wanyin,” Jin Guangyao says finally, flushing slightly. “My mother’s occupation being what it was—”
“What did she do?”
Jin Guangyao is so unnerved by the situation that he is unable to stop himself from snapping, “Perhaps I would tell you if you would stop interrupting.” He suppresses a wince. The elite rarely react well to people like Jin Guangyao speaking out of turn.
Instead of hitting him, which is honestly what Jin Guangyao expected, Jiang Wanyin laughs. “Touché,” he says, and his smile is crooked in a way that makes Jin Guangyao’s stomach twist.
“A-Yao’s mother was Meng Shi,” says Nie Huaisang, inserting himself into the conversation, uninvited.
And unwanted. Jin Guangyao braced himself for the storm of Jiang Wanyin’s reaction to his beloved sister standing next to someone like Jin Guangyao, but all Jiang Wanyin says is, “Who?” in a confused tone.
“You know,” says Nie Huaisang. “The ‘calligrapher.’” He makes some kind of opaque gesture with his hands.
“The calligrapher?” repeats Jiang Wanyin, baffled.
And the thing is. The thing is that Meng Shi had indeed been an accomplished calligrapher and guqin player. In fact, in terms of courtly skill alone, she could likely outshine most of the silly young masters and mistresses filling up the ostentatious Jin banquet hall.
But that’s not how anyone but Jin Guangyao remembered her.
“I—” he says, and stops. “Yes. But I believe my father protested her other occupation as a risque entertainer.”
“What?” says Jiang Wanyin, and Jin Guangyao almost closes his eyes in frustration at the thought that he’ll have to spell this out for the sheltered young master. “How dare that perverted old goat have anything to say on that topic!”
As one, their small group turns to look at Jin Guangshan, who is standing much too close for propriety to a group of women years younger than his own son.
“It does seem a little hypocritical,” allows Nie Huaisang from behind his fan.
Jiang Wanyin sneers. He and Jiang Yanli exchange a look that Jin Guangyao can’t decipher, and finally he turns back to Jin Guangyao. “And what’s your name, then?” he asks, a touch sardonically. “Should I also be calling you a-Yao, the way everyone else seems to be?”
“My father called me Jin Guangyao when he legitimized me,” says Jin Guangyao, and for reasons he doesn’t understand, he continues with, “but my mother named me Meng Yao.”
His eyes accidentally catch on Jiang Wanyin’s, and despite himself, he finds he can’t look away. Jiang Wanyin’s gaze on him is steady and intense, and Jin Guangyao has to suppress a shiver that wants to run down his spine to his suddenly shaky legs.
“Okay,” says Jiang Wanyin. “But what do you want me to call you?”
No one, truly honestly no one, not even Lan Xichen, has ever asked Jin Guangyao that question, and it turns out that he’s wholly unable to answer it. He finds himself saying, “I want you to call me Meng Yao.”
Jiang Wanyin nods. “Then that’s what I’ll call you, Meng Yao,” he says.
This first meeting leaves Jin Guangyao confused and angry at his own confusion, but as he finds himself in Jiang Wanyin’s company more and more, he finds the confusion fading like fog from his eyes and leaving behind—something.
Jin Guangyao has fallen in love before, of course.
The first time—
(The first time Jin Guangyao fell in love was in a crumbling playground near his mother’s home. All of the other children at the playground were gathering together to play freeze tag, but Jin Guangyao, of course, wasn’t allowed to play with them; everyone knew who his mother was, and everyone treated them with contempt for it. Jin Guangyao watched as the other children had an argument over the location of the boundaries; when the majority refused to budge and insisted on playing the game according to their own rules, the assigned tagger simply sat down on the ground. No one else was willing to be the tagger, so the game could not proceed without him, and the other players were forced to give in. It wasn’t so much the unnamed little boy that Jin Guangyao fell in love with that day, but rather the possibility—another way to win the game, a way he hadn’t considered.)
—with Nie Mingjue, their love began with all the ferocity and passion of an explosion. It ended like an explosion, too, and following that clusterfuck, Jin Guangyao felt that maybe he could do with some gentle loving, the kind where innocent love poems are exchanged in whispers under the setting sun, and so he found himself with Lan Xichen, who was everything he’d been looking for, but… their love was so quiet and calm. Jin Guangyao decided that perhaps he did need some well-placed calamity after all, someone who wouldn’t judge him for his ambitions and who he wouldn’t have to watch his words around. And perhaps that was what Jin Guangyao had needed, but Xue Yang was arguably too much calamity for anyone to handle, and by the time Xue Yang’s smirking face had faded from his life, Jin Guangyao was well relieved to see it go. And so Jin Guangyao was left to steeple his fingers and think about what characteristic he wanted to hunt down next.
Jiang Wanyin is an epiphany. He has all of Nie Mingjue’s barely contained fury and inexplicable skill with small children, all of Lan Xichen’s sweetness—though it’s hidden much more deeply in Jiang Wanyin’s case—and philosophical expertise, all of Xue Yang’s fierce drive and dark humour. For the first time in his life, it occurs to Jin Guangyao that maybe he really can have it all.
And Jin Guangyao really, really wants to have it all.
~
Jin Guangyao’s preliminary research revealed that the Jiangs are not known for their romantic subtlety. Jin Guangyao carefully builds his seduction plan around that knowledge, and then is forced to scrap that plan entirely when he is granted front-row seats to Lan Wangji’s attempts at courtship collapsing piteously against the wall of Wei Wuxian’s social obliviousness. Clearly, merely shouting his feelings from the mountaintops will be insufficient to capture Jiang Wanyin’s attention.
He updates his datasheet, reevaluates his statistical models, and finalizes his strategy. And then, he waits.
He meets Jiang Wanyin a number of times at gatherings hosted by Jiang Yanli. He takes care to be charming, sweet, and like a peacock waving his plumage, he makes sure that his dimples are always displayed at their ideal viewing angle. Finally, when he feels that sufficient groundwork has been laid, he makes his first approach.
“Jiang Wanyin,” he says, smiling.
“Meng Yao,” says Jiang Wanyin, not smiling. Still, Jin Guangyao thinks he perceives a softening in Jiang Wanyin’s eyes, and that will have to be sufficient for now.
“I would like to go on a romantic date with you to explore the possibility of entering into an exclusive, long-term romantic and sexual relationship,” says Jin Guangyao, his smile unchanging.
Jiang Wanyin’s mouth drops open. He stares. His face turns red.
Good. Jin Guangyao’s message was received, then. Day 1, and he’s already ahead of Lan Wangji.
Jin Guangyao gentles his smile. “You don’t have to answer right away. I hope you will think it over, though.”
“Fine,” says Jiang Wanyin.
Jin Guangyao bows, and he makes to leave.
“No,” says Jiang Wanyin.
Jin Guangyao winces. It’s not that he hadn’t expected an initial refusal, but he’d hoped for a little more contemplation than that. Ah, well. On to Phase 2.
Jiang Wanyin’s hand lands on Jin Guangyao’s elbow. “No, I mean, fine, I’ll go on a date with you.”
Jin Guangyao allows his surprise and delight to leak into his smile.
Jiang Wanyin clears his throat awkwardly. “You should come over to my place. I can cook something.”
“That sounds lovely! Should I bring anything?”
“Wine? Or—whatever. I mean, if you would prefer not to drink, that’s also—I’m not trying to—Nothing below the waist on the first date!”
Jin Guangyao barely blinks under the assault of all this bluster. He’s had a chance to get used to Jiang Wanyin by now. “Of course,” he promises soothingly. “Your virtue is safe with me, Jiang Wanyin.”
Jiang Wanyin jolts. “I—what? No, I mean your virtue is safe with me.”
Jin Guangyao doesn’t need to tilt his head down to look up at Jiang Wanyin coquettishly through his eyelashes, but he contrives to anyway for the best effect. “Ah, is it? How disappointing.”
Jiang Wanyin splutters, and Jin Guangyao can’t help but laugh. It occurs to him that maybe Jiang Wanyin isn’t used to being pursued so straight-forwardly. With his wealth and his ancient lineage and his exquisitely handsome features, it seems rather impossible that Jiang Wanyin hasn’t been the subject of romantic machinations before, but perhaps they all involved the Nie Huaisang School of Flirtation, with a lot of boneless draping of oneself over silk-covered chaises while fluttering fans wildly. Perhaps Jiang Wanyin has never been faced so directly. Jin Guangyao mentally congratulates himself on the accuracy of his statistical models.
“Jiang Wanyin, just so I know, when will my virtue stop being a protected commodity? The third date? The fifth?” He widens his eyes innocently at Jiang Wanyin, who scowls at him, but can’t seemingly can’t stop himself from going even redder.
“Your ‘virtue’ isn’t a commodity,” Jiang Wanyin growls, and Jin Guangyao’s stomach flutters dangerously.
“Of course, pardon me,” says Jin Guangyao brightly. “But please, give me a time frame so that I know what to expect! Third date, kissing? Fifth date, heavy petting?”
“No date anything if you keep making fun of me,” snaps Jiang Wanyin.
Jin Guangyao steels himself and reaches out to hold Jiang Wanyin’s hand. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that maybe I’m making fun of me, not you? I like to have everything planned out as much as possible. I don’t like to, ah, stumble my way through things. It’s been irritating for my partners in the past.”
Jiang Wanyin shrugs, not looking at Jin Guangyao, but also not letting go of his hand. “I don’t like surprises, either.” His lips curl. “Especially given they always seem to be bad ones.”
“Well, then. If you won’t give me your timeline, why don’t we use mine as a guide?” He waits for Jiang Wanyin’s blushing nod before he continues. “Chaste kisses on the first date, and sex no sooner than the third. Assuming everything goes well, of course,” he smiles sweetly at Jiang Wanyin, who smiles back at him as though he can’t help himself. “And marriage a year from now,” he continues briskly.
Jiang Wanyin chokes.
“It’ll be autumn again, then, which will be a lovely time to have a wedding, don’t you think?” Jin Guangyao looks up at Jiang Wanyin, raising his eyebrows inquiringly.
Jiang Wanyin stares at him for a long moment. “That’s a lot of planning to do in a short time frame,” he says finally.
Jin Guangyao steps forward. “I think I’m up for the challenge. Don’t you?”
Jiang Wanyin laughs. Not a mean laugh, or a mocking laugh, or a disbelieving laugh. Just a laugh—bright, sharp, surprised, happy, wondering.
“Just tell me what to wear,” says Jiang Wanyin.
~
It takes three years, not one, to settle the family gossips and extract a date from the recalcitrant matchmaker, but when the time comes, their wedding is beautiful.
Of course it is; Jin Guangyao planned it. The festivities planned aren’t long or formal or elaborate on the surface—it wouldn’t do to outshine the wedding of Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli, after all, no matter how long ago it was—but he spent endless hours and days and weeks and months organising every miniscule second of his wedding day.
So their wedding is beautiful, and perfect, and everything happens exactly as Jin Guangyao planned until his foot becomes tangled in his robes as he takes his seat at the wedding banquet, and when he attempts to stand, his foot only comes loose with a tug and an ominous crack.
“What was that?” asks Jiang Wanyin.
“What was what?” asks Jin Guangyao, smiling through the pain.
Jiang Wanyin frowns, but before he can reply, Jin Guangyao steamrolls over him. “Hurry up,” he says,” tucking his hand into the crook of Jiang Wanyin’s elbow and leaning heavily on him, trying to make it seem seductive rather than necessary. “We still have more socialising to do. We just got married, you know.”
“Ugh,” says Jiang Wanyin, but his eyes are bright as he looks down at Jin Guangyao. “Fine, I guess.”
But first, Jin Guangyao makes his new husband escort him to a restroom, where he uses the privacy to peel back his layers of robes and inspect the damage, which he does with dismay. His foot is already bruised and horribly swollen. Not broken, he thinks, having an unfortunate amount of experience in making this kind of self-diagnosis. At least, not broken all the way through. But it’s broken enough that the wisest course of action would be to leave the banquet early and go to a hospital.
Jin Guangyao imagines that for a moment. He’d go out, explain the situation to the guests, apologise. Everyone would smile and say that it’s fine, and before the door even closed behind him, they’d be whispering about embarrassments and ruined weddings and how this is an omen of bad things to come.
Jin Guangyao thinks back to the morning of the day he first met Jiang Wanyin, when the rising sun itself spelled out his hope for the future. That is the sign he wants to be true, not this one. That is the sign he chooses.
Jin Guangyao comes out of the bathroom smiling. “Who should we greet first?”
“Ugh,” says Jiang Wanyin again. As Jin Guangyao wraps his hand back around his husband’s—husband!—elbow, Jiang Wanyin leans in close to press a soft kiss into his hair.
For a moment, the pain seems to vanish, and Jin Guangyao lets himself simply be held for a moment before he shoves Jiang Wanyin away chidingly and directs him back into the hall.
This is the sign he chooses.
~
Jin Guangyao is a very, very good actor, especially when it comes to hiding discomfort or pain, and Jiang Wanyin doesn’t realise anything is wrong until he has carried Jin Guangyao to their bedroom, set him gently down on the bed, and kneeled to remove Jin Guangyao’s silk stockings.
He stares down at the lump of swollen tissue, shock evident in every feature. “What—?” And he stops. He stops, and he looks up at Jin Guangyao, his eyes a storm.
It’s a problem, because Jiang Wanyin is never more dangerous than when he’s too angry to yell.
“I didn’t want to interrupt the wedding?” Jin Guangyao tries to smile.
“You didn’t want to—” Jiang Wanyin closes his eyes, and Jin Guangyao can’t tell what he’s thinking.
He panics.
“Just think of the fuss it would cause!” he says brightly. “All those guests, all gossiping about—about wasted travel and—and bad luck.”
“You idiot,” snarls Jiang Wanyin, and then he visibly bites his tongue to end his rant. “Meng Yao,” he says slowly, the sounds gritted through his teeth.
Jin Guangyao busies himself with smoothing the red sheets beneath him and doesn’t look up.
“Meng Yao,” Jiang Wanyin says again. “I am not angry because you have dumb superstitions. Do you think I haven’t noticed the creepy and obsessive way you avoid the number four? Or the number of astrological charts you have to reference before you commit to going to a party? Of course I noticed.” Jiang Wanyin’s voice lowers. “I’m kind of into you, you know. I notice these things.”
Jin Guangyao feels his face heat as that soft, shameful warmth rises within him. He doesn’t need compliments, he doesn’t need validation. It shouldn’t feel this good to hear Jiang Wanyin speak of affection, of affection for him.
“I am angry, though,” continues Jiang Wanyin, and oh, there we go. Warmth averted. “I am angry because you let your dumb superstitions hurt you.”
Jin Guangyao’s head shoots up, and he’s protesting before he can quite stop himself. “I was injured due to an accident. It had nothing to do with any superstitions.”
“An injury is one thing,” snaps Jiang Wanyin. “Allowing an injury to go untreated is another. For fuck’s sake, Wen Qing was in that room!”
“Excuse me for not wanting to give your beloved ex the opportunity to observe all of my shortcomings!” Jin Guangyao has to look away, then, because his eyes are feeling watery—an allergy, probably—and he doesn’t want Jiang Wanyin to think he’s crying or something. Jin Guangyao employs his tears as precise and eloquent weapons of war; he doesn’t just start ugly crying in the middle of a banal argument.
“Getting hurt isn’t a shortcoming, and Wen Qing would never act like it was!”
“She would see the inauspicious signs as clearly as I can! I won’t give her the satisfaction!”
“Wen Qing—”
“Stop saying her name in our marriage bed!” Jin Guangyao bursts out.
Jiang Wanyin pauses for a moment. “Are you crying?” he asks incredulously.
“There was too much perfume at the banquet,” says Jin Guangyao icily, patting at his face with his fingers. “It irritated my eyes.”
Jiang Wanyin leans out of the bed and snatches up some tissues from the night stand. He brushes them gently over Jin Guangyao’s wet cheeks, then balls them up and tosses them into the wastebasket. “You,” says Jiang Wanyin, pressing his lips to Jin Guangyao’s forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, “are so fucking weird.” Their lips meet, and Jiang Wanyin presses him down into the bed, licking into him sweetly. When he pulls away, he says, “And we’re going to the hospital right away.”
“Or,” says Jin Guangyao, sliding his fingers into Jiang Wanyin’s hair and gripping tightly to hold him in place. “We could have sex in a way that doesn’t irritate my foot, and then go to the hospital and tell them that the injury happened mid-coitus, but I was so blissed out I didn’t even notice until after.”
“Or,” says Jiang Wanyin against Jin Guangyao’s lips, “we could go to the hospital right away and still feed them that story.”
Jin Guangyao hesitates. He considers the idea from all angles. He looks down at his foot, which gives an especially painful throb en cue. Finally, he meets Jiang Wanyin’s eyes for the first time since they entered the bedroom. “Have I mentioned recently that I love you?”
“I could stand to hear it more often,” Jiang Wanyin allows. He bites at Jin Guangyao’s lower lip one more time before pulling away completely and gathering Jin Guangyao up in his arms. “You know,” says Jiang Wanyin as he carries Jin Guangyao back out of the room. “If I had been getting married to Wen Qing—”
Jin Guangyao wraps his hands lightly around Jiang Wanyin’s throat. “For balance,” he explains, smiling. “Yes? You were saying?”
“—I would have been imagining I was with you, instead,” Jiang Wanyin continues evenly. “And not thinking of how you could be providing medical assistance to help her out. I would have been imagining touching you, having you under me, being inside you. Imagining you were mine.”
Jin Guangyao turns his head into Jiang Wanyin’s shoulder to hide his smile.
“What do you think?” asks Jiang Wanyin, maneuvering Jin Guangyao gently so that he can lock their front door. “Would that have been an auspicious sign for my marriage to her?”
Jin Guangyao hums thoughtfully. “Probably not,” he sighs, letting Jiang Wanyin settle him into the passenger seat of his car. “It’s probably a good thing that you ended up with me, then.”
“Too bad,” says Jiang Wanyin. “I guess I’ll just have to settle.”
The hospital staff are chastising with Jiang Wanyin and amused and sympathetic with Jin Guangyao. They’re still teasing them as they wheel Jin Guangyao through the lobby, where an elderly woman overhears and tells them, “Oh, congratulations! How wonderful!” and they learn all about the three separate sisters she had whose wedding-night injuries foretold their long and happy marriages. “But it would have been even better if you’d gotten your injury during the ceremony itself,” she tells them. “My sister-in-law cut her hand during the wedding banquet—there was blood everywhere—and not only did she enjoy the best of marriages with my brother, she had seven healthy children!”
If Jin Guangyao is much more cheery on the ride home, that’s just because of the painkillers. He’s still not superstitious.
Fandom: MDZS | The Untamed
Pairing/Characters: Meng Yao / Jiang Cheng
Rating: M
Warnings:
Word Count: 4,508, one-shot
Summary: Modern day AU. Title from the Sun Tzu saying, “In the Midst of Chaos, there is also opportunity.” Prompt fill for The Untamed Kink Meme 2021 Q1:
Prompt: JGY cracks a bone* at his own wedding. He pulls through the ceremony and the reception without anyone noticing anything. His partner finds out on the way to the bedroom and is Not Impressed.
*it doesn’t break all the way through but it still hurts like hell
Bonus: JGY is secretly superstitious, not just concerned about appearances.
Ships: Chengyao, Nieyao or Xueyao (if sex comes up at all, bottom JGY)
Canon: CQL jianghu or modern
Jin Guangyao is not and never has been superstitious. It’s important to establish that from the get-go, because he understands that, from a certain light, his completely valid concerns might come off as, to borrow a phrase from Nie Huaisang, fucking delusional as all fuck.
But he’s not superstitious. The chain of cause and effect is clear.
When Jin Guangyao was 12, he purchased a flower for his mother. This flower, he discovered on his walk home, had 8 petals. Meng Shi received the flower from her son with a smile as she always did, and she fussed for some time to find a container and water to place it in. This distraction prevented her from hearing her phone for several minutes, and she ended up missing a call to entertain at a party that would later be called The Stripper Massacre by the local media.
Is that not enough evidence?
When Jin Guangyao was 15, he purchased a milk bun from the convenience store. The milk buns were on the fourth rack, and later that day, his own father pushed him out of his life and down the stairs of his towering townhome.
His mother’s work sisters smirked and sneered at his fears all through his childhood, so he knows better than to share any of his insights. When he and Nie Mingjue have their explosive breakup and he and Lan Xichen have their gentle, amicable one, Jin Guangyao doesn’t mention the scissors he found, mysteriously misplaced in his office. When he and Xue Yang begin their frankly bizarre and short-lived affair, Jin Guangyao doesn’t mention the lost necklace he found on the street beneath his flat.
And then, one early morning, Jin Guangyao stumbles outside on his way to work and catches sight of the sunrise. He knows, in theory, that the sun rises every morning, but on this morning, the bright colours snag his attention, and as the sleep fog slowly fades from his eyes, he swears that the streaks of red, air-polluted clouds spell out the sign for harmonious relationships.
That’s the day he meets Jiang Wanyin.
~
“A-Yao,” says the new Madam Jin at the first large party hosted by the Jins after her wedding. “Please, come meet my baby brother.” Jin Guangyao did not grow up in the same elite circles as his father’s family, and so his acquaintanceship with his brother’s wife began with the couple’s courtship, shortly after his father was forced to legitimize him. It took Jin Guangyao months of smiling at Jiang Yanli over tea before he began to realise that her kindness may not be manufactured. He had, at this point, already met, loved, and lost Lan Xichen, and to think that two people this gentle and loving could exist on the same planet at the same time was beyond all comprehension. And yet, they do, and as they do, Jin Guangyao can only imagine that this child brother must either share the impossibly gentle spirit of his sister, or perhaps carry the same painful shyness as Lan Xichen’s younger brother.
Jin Guangyao follows Jiang Yanli across the Jin banquet hall. He expects to be led to a quiet corner hiding a small, wide-eyed teenager. He’s already thinking of ways to ingratiate himself with this new relation—likely he would appreciate a gentle introduction to some of the other boys his own age.
He does not expect to be led to the loudest table in the hall.
“A-Cheng,” says Jiang Yanli, smiling up at a man—not a child—without an apparent concern for the way he’s holding Nie Huaisang up by his collar and shaking him while yelling at what Jin Guangyao hopes is his top volume. The alternative is terrifying. “This is a-Xuan’s brother, a-Yao.”
“Brother?” asks ‘a-Cheng,’ putting Nie Huaisang down with a final shake. “Why wasn’t I introduced to him before? Why wasn’t he at the tea ceremony?” He frowns at Jin Guangyao, who is accustomed enough to immediate criticism that his benign expression never flickers.
“Jin Guangshan announced that a-Yao couldn’t make it,” Jiang Yanli replies, and though her tone is still warm, and nothing about her general demeanour seems to have changed, nevertheless something about her aura seems displeased.
Jin Guangyao takes that as his cue and explains, “Yes, I had another appointment. For the doctor, I think he said?” He smiles wryly, inviting the group to share in the joke. After all, everyone knows that his mother isn’t his father’s wife, and everyone knows how she earned a living, and everyone has an opinion about it. No one was surprised, or even sincerely offended, at Jin Guangyao’s exclusion from the intimate portion of the wedding.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asks Jiang Yanli’s brother, apparently the only person in all of the Chinese-speaking world who hasn’t heard this story. “And why should that bastard Jin Guangshan have the final say in your wedding? Does your peacock of a husband ever do anything?”
“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli chides, though she doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the name-calling. “You know that the Jin clan does things differently.”
Her brother scoffs, clearly unimpressed. His eyes settle on Jin Guangyao appraisingly. “And what did you do that got you kicked out of the ceremony? Even Jin Zixun made the cut. Somehow.”
“Well, young master, I—”
“Jiang Wanyin.”
Jin Guangyao tilts his head compliantly, but he’s unsettled—not by the interruption, but by his uncertainty in how to interpret it. He was not given a full name by Jiang Yanli, it’s true, so maybe this is a simple introduction. Even dismissing his comparatively low status, it seems unlikely that he would be given permission to address this elite heir so informally on first meeting, family ties or no. “Well, Master Jiang,” he amends.
“Jiang. Wan. Yin,” the man says, enunciating each tone as though the issue at hand were Jin Guangyao’s hearing rather than the demands of basic etiquette.
Jin Guangyao hesitates, unsure how to proceed.
“Please, a-Yao,” says Jiang Yanli. “We Jiangs are a much more informal group. And are we not all family now? I hope you will call my brother by his name.”
“Well… Jiang Wanyin,” Jin Guangyao says finally, flushing slightly. “My mother’s occupation being what it was—”
“What did she do?”
Jin Guangyao is so unnerved by the situation that he is unable to stop himself from snapping, “Perhaps I would tell you if you would stop interrupting.” He suppresses a wince. The elite rarely react well to people like Jin Guangyao speaking out of turn.
Instead of hitting him, which is honestly what Jin Guangyao expected, Jiang Wanyin laughs. “Touché,” he says, and his smile is crooked in a way that makes Jin Guangyao’s stomach twist.
“A-Yao’s mother was Meng Shi,” says Nie Huaisang, inserting himself into the conversation, uninvited.
And unwanted. Jin Guangyao braced himself for the storm of Jiang Wanyin’s reaction to his beloved sister standing next to someone like Jin Guangyao, but all Jiang Wanyin says is, “Who?” in a confused tone.
“You know,” says Nie Huaisang. “The ‘calligrapher.’” He makes some kind of opaque gesture with his hands.
“The calligrapher?” repeats Jiang Wanyin, baffled.
And the thing is. The thing is that Meng Shi had indeed been an accomplished calligrapher and guqin player. In fact, in terms of courtly skill alone, she could likely outshine most of the silly young masters and mistresses filling up the ostentatious Jin banquet hall.
But that’s not how anyone but Jin Guangyao remembered her.
“I—” he says, and stops. “Yes. But I believe my father protested her other occupation as a risque entertainer.”
“What?” says Jiang Wanyin, and Jin Guangyao almost closes his eyes in frustration at the thought that he’ll have to spell this out for the sheltered young master. “How dare that perverted old goat have anything to say on that topic!”
As one, their small group turns to look at Jin Guangshan, who is standing much too close for propriety to a group of women years younger than his own son.
“It does seem a little hypocritical,” allows Nie Huaisang from behind his fan.
Jiang Wanyin sneers. He and Jiang Yanli exchange a look that Jin Guangyao can’t decipher, and finally he turns back to Jin Guangyao. “And what’s your name, then?” he asks, a touch sardonically. “Should I also be calling you a-Yao, the way everyone else seems to be?”
“My father called me Jin Guangyao when he legitimized me,” says Jin Guangyao, and for reasons he doesn’t understand, he continues with, “but my mother named me Meng Yao.”
His eyes accidentally catch on Jiang Wanyin’s, and despite himself, he finds he can’t look away. Jiang Wanyin’s gaze on him is steady and intense, and Jin Guangyao has to suppress a shiver that wants to run down his spine to his suddenly shaky legs.
“Okay,” says Jiang Wanyin. “But what do you want me to call you?”
No one, truly honestly no one, not even Lan Xichen, has ever asked Jin Guangyao that question, and it turns out that he’s wholly unable to answer it. He finds himself saying, “I want you to call me Meng Yao.”
Jiang Wanyin nods. “Then that’s what I’ll call you, Meng Yao,” he says.
This first meeting leaves Jin Guangyao confused and angry at his own confusion, but as he finds himself in Jiang Wanyin’s company more and more, he finds the confusion fading like fog from his eyes and leaving behind—something.
Jin Guangyao has fallen in love before, of course.
The first time—
(The first time Jin Guangyao fell in love was in a crumbling playground near his mother’s home. All of the other children at the playground were gathering together to play freeze tag, but Jin Guangyao, of course, wasn’t allowed to play with them; everyone knew who his mother was, and everyone treated them with contempt for it. Jin Guangyao watched as the other children had an argument over the location of the boundaries; when the majority refused to budge and insisted on playing the game according to their own rules, the assigned tagger simply sat down on the ground. No one else was willing to be the tagger, so the game could not proceed without him, and the other players were forced to give in. It wasn’t so much the unnamed little boy that Jin Guangyao fell in love with that day, but rather the possibility—another way to win the game, a way he hadn’t considered.)
—with Nie Mingjue, their love began with all the ferocity and passion of an explosion. It ended like an explosion, too, and following that clusterfuck, Jin Guangyao felt that maybe he could do with some gentle loving, the kind where innocent love poems are exchanged in whispers under the setting sun, and so he found himself with Lan Xichen, who was everything he’d been looking for, but… their love was so quiet and calm. Jin Guangyao decided that perhaps he did need some well-placed calamity after all, someone who wouldn’t judge him for his ambitions and who he wouldn’t have to watch his words around. And perhaps that was what Jin Guangyao had needed, but Xue Yang was arguably too much calamity for anyone to handle, and by the time Xue Yang’s smirking face had faded from his life, Jin Guangyao was well relieved to see it go. And so Jin Guangyao was left to steeple his fingers and think about what characteristic he wanted to hunt down next.
Jiang Wanyin is an epiphany. He has all of Nie Mingjue’s barely contained fury and inexplicable skill with small children, all of Lan Xichen’s sweetness—though it’s hidden much more deeply in Jiang Wanyin’s case—and philosophical expertise, all of Xue Yang’s fierce drive and dark humour. For the first time in his life, it occurs to Jin Guangyao that maybe he really can have it all.
And Jin Guangyao really, really wants to have it all.
~
Jin Guangyao’s preliminary research revealed that the Jiangs are not known for their romantic subtlety. Jin Guangyao carefully builds his seduction plan around that knowledge, and then is forced to scrap that plan entirely when he is granted front-row seats to Lan Wangji’s attempts at courtship collapsing piteously against the wall of Wei Wuxian’s social obliviousness. Clearly, merely shouting his feelings from the mountaintops will be insufficient to capture Jiang Wanyin’s attention.
He updates his datasheet, reevaluates his statistical models, and finalizes his strategy. And then, he waits.
He meets Jiang Wanyin a number of times at gatherings hosted by Jiang Yanli. He takes care to be charming, sweet, and like a peacock waving his plumage, he makes sure that his dimples are always displayed at their ideal viewing angle. Finally, when he feels that sufficient groundwork has been laid, he makes his first approach.
“Jiang Wanyin,” he says, smiling.
“Meng Yao,” says Jiang Wanyin, not smiling. Still, Jin Guangyao thinks he perceives a softening in Jiang Wanyin’s eyes, and that will have to be sufficient for now.
“I would like to go on a romantic date with you to explore the possibility of entering into an exclusive, long-term romantic and sexual relationship,” says Jin Guangyao, his smile unchanging.
Jiang Wanyin’s mouth drops open. He stares. His face turns red.
Good. Jin Guangyao’s message was received, then. Day 1, and he’s already ahead of Lan Wangji.
Jin Guangyao gentles his smile. “You don’t have to answer right away. I hope you will think it over, though.”
“Fine,” says Jiang Wanyin.
Jin Guangyao bows, and he makes to leave.
“No,” says Jiang Wanyin.
Jin Guangyao winces. It’s not that he hadn’t expected an initial refusal, but he’d hoped for a little more contemplation than that. Ah, well. On to Phase 2.
Jiang Wanyin’s hand lands on Jin Guangyao’s elbow. “No, I mean, fine, I’ll go on a date with you.”
Jin Guangyao allows his surprise and delight to leak into his smile.
Jiang Wanyin clears his throat awkwardly. “You should come over to my place. I can cook something.”
“That sounds lovely! Should I bring anything?”
“Wine? Or—whatever. I mean, if you would prefer not to drink, that’s also—I’m not trying to—Nothing below the waist on the first date!”
Jin Guangyao barely blinks under the assault of all this bluster. He’s had a chance to get used to Jiang Wanyin by now. “Of course,” he promises soothingly. “Your virtue is safe with me, Jiang Wanyin.”
Jiang Wanyin jolts. “I—what? No, I mean your virtue is safe with me.”
Jin Guangyao doesn’t need to tilt his head down to look up at Jiang Wanyin coquettishly through his eyelashes, but he contrives to anyway for the best effect. “Ah, is it? How disappointing.”
Jiang Wanyin splutters, and Jin Guangyao can’t help but laugh. It occurs to him that maybe Jiang Wanyin isn’t used to being pursued so straight-forwardly. With his wealth and his ancient lineage and his exquisitely handsome features, it seems rather impossible that Jiang Wanyin hasn’t been the subject of romantic machinations before, but perhaps they all involved the Nie Huaisang School of Flirtation, with a lot of boneless draping of oneself over silk-covered chaises while fluttering fans wildly. Perhaps Jiang Wanyin has never been faced so directly. Jin Guangyao mentally congratulates himself on the accuracy of his statistical models.
“Jiang Wanyin, just so I know, when will my virtue stop being a protected commodity? The third date? The fifth?” He widens his eyes innocently at Jiang Wanyin, who scowls at him, but can’t seemingly can’t stop himself from going even redder.
“Your ‘virtue’ isn’t a commodity,” Jiang Wanyin growls, and Jin Guangyao’s stomach flutters dangerously.
“Of course, pardon me,” says Jin Guangyao brightly. “But please, give me a time frame so that I know what to expect! Third date, kissing? Fifth date, heavy petting?”
“No date anything if you keep making fun of me,” snaps Jiang Wanyin.
Jin Guangyao steels himself and reaches out to hold Jiang Wanyin’s hand. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that maybe I’m making fun of me, not you? I like to have everything planned out as much as possible. I don’t like to, ah, stumble my way through things. It’s been irritating for my partners in the past.”
Jiang Wanyin shrugs, not looking at Jin Guangyao, but also not letting go of his hand. “I don’t like surprises, either.” His lips curl. “Especially given they always seem to be bad ones.”
“Well, then. If you won’t give me your timeline, why don’t we use mine as a guide?” He waits for Jiang Wanyin’s blushing nod before he continues. “Chaste kisses on the first date, and sex no sooner than the third. Assuming everything goes well, of course,” he smiles sweetly at Jiang Wanyin, who smiles back at him as though he can’t help himself. “And marriage a year from now,” he continues briskly.
Jiang Wanyin chokes.
“It’ll be autumn again, then, which will be a lovely time to have a wedding, don’t you think?” Jin Guangyao looks up at Jiang Wanyin, raising his eyebrows inquiringly.
Jiang Wanyin stares at him for a long moment. “That’s a lot of planning to do in a short time frame,” he says finally.
Jin Guangyao steps forward. “I think I’m up for the challenge. Don’t you?”
Jiang Wanyin laughs. Not a mean laugh, or a mocking laugh, or a disbelieving laugh. Just a laugh—bright, sharp, surprised, happy, wondering.
“Just tell me what to wear,” says Jiang Wanyin.
~
It takes three years, not one, to settle the family gossips and extract a date from the recalcitrant matchmaker, but when the time comes, their wedding is beautiful.
Of course it is; Jin Guangyao planned it. The festivities planned aren’t long or formal or elaborate on the surface—it wouldn’t do to outshine the wedding of Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli, after all, no matter how long ago it was—but he spent endless hours and days and weeks and months organising every miniscule second of his wedding day.
So their wedding is beautiful, and perfect, and everything happens exactly as Jin Guangyao planned until his foot becomes tangled in his robes as he takes his seat at the wedding banquet, and when he attempts to stand, his foot only comes loose with a tug and an ominous crack.
“What was that?” asks Jiang Wanyin.
“What was what?” asks Jin Guangyao, smiling through the pain.
Jiang Wanyin frowns, but before he can reply, Jin Guangyao steamrolls over him. “Hurry up,” he says,” tucking his hand into the crook of Jiang Wanyin’s elbow and leaning heavily on him, trying to make it seem seductive rather than necessary. “We still have more socialising to do. We just got married, you know.”
“Ugh,” says Jiang Wanyin, but his eyes are bright as he looks down at Jin Guangyao. “Fine, I guess.”
But first, Jin Guangyao makes his new husband escort him to a restroom, where he uses the privacy to peel back his layers of robes and inspect the damage, which he does with dismay. His foot is already bruised and horribly swollen. Not broken, he thinks, having an unfortunate amount of experience in making this kind of self-diagnosis. At least, not broken all the way through. But it’s broken enough that the wisest course of action would be to leave the banquet early and go to a hospital.
Jin Guangyao imagines that for a moment. He’d go out, explain the situation to the guests, apologise. Everyone would smile and say that it’s fine, and before the door even closed behind him, they’d be whispering about embarrassments and ruined weddings and how this is an omen of bad things to come.
Jin Guangyao thinks back to the morning of the day he first met Jiang Wanyin, when the rising sun itself spelled out his hope for the future. That is the sign he wants to be true, not this one. That is the sign he chooses.
Jin Guangyao comes out of the bathroom smiling. “Who should we greet first?”
“Ugh,” says Jiang Wanyin again. As Jin Guangyao wraps his hand back around his husband’s—husband!—elbow, Jiang Wanyin leans in close to press a soft kiss into his hair.
For a moment, the pain seems to vanish, and Jin Guangyao lets himself simply be held for a moment before he shoves Jiang Wanyin away chidingly and directs him back into the hall.
This is the sign he chooses.
~
Jin Guangyao is a very, very good actor, especially when it comes to hiding discomfort or pain, and Jiang Wanyin doesn’t realise anything is wrong until he has carried Jin Guangyao to their bedroom, set him gently down on the bed, and kneeled to remove Jin Guangyao’s silk stockings.
He stares down at the lump of swollen tissue, shock evident in every feature. “What—?” And he stops. He stops, and he looks up at Jin Guangyao, his eyes a storm.
It’s a problem, because Jiang Wanyin is never more dangerous than when he’s too angry to yell.
“I didn’t want to interrupt the wedding?” Jin Guangyao tries to smile.
“You didn’t want to—” Jiang Wanyin closes his eyes, and Jin Guangyao can’t tell what he’s thinking.
He panics.
“Just think of the fuss it would cause!” he says brightly. “All those guests, all gossiping about—about wasted travel and—and bad luck.”
“You idiot,” snarls Jiang Wanyin, and then he visibly bites his tongue to end his rant. “Meng Yao,” he says slowly, the sounds gritted through his teeth.
Jin Guangyao busies himself with smoothing the red sheets beneath him and doesn’t look up.
“Meng Yao,” Jiang Wanyin says again. “I am not angry because you have dumb superstitions. Do you think I haven’t noticed the creepy and obsessive way you avoid the number four? Or the number of astrological charts you have to reference before you commit to going to a party? Of course I noticed.” Jiang Wanyin’s voice lowers. “I’m kind of into you, you know. I notice these things.”
Jin Guangyao feels his face heat as that soft, shameful warmth rises within him. He doesn’t need compliments, he doesn’t need validation. It shouldn’t feel this good to hear Jiang Wanyin speak of affection, of affection for him.
“I am angry, though,” continues Jiang Wanyin, and oh, there we go. Warmth averted. “I am angry because you let your dumb superstitions hurt you.”
Jin Guangyao’s head shoots up, and he’s protesting before he can quite stop himself. “I was injured due to an accident. It had nothing to do with any superstitions.”
“An injury is one thing,” snaps Jiang Wanyin. “Allowing an injury to go untreated is another. For fuck’s sake, Wen Qing was in that room!”
“Excuse me for not wanting to give your beloved ex the opportunity to observe all of my shortcomings!” Jin Guangyao has to look away, then, because his eyes are feeling watery—an allergy, probably—and he doesn’t want Jiang Wanyin to think he’s crying or something. Jin Guangyao employs his tears as precise and eloquent weapons of war; he doesn’t just start ugly crying in the middle of a banal argument.
“Getting hurt isn’t a shortcoming, and Wen Qing would never act like it was!”
“She would see the inauspicious signs as clearly as I can! I won’t give her the satisfaction!”
“Wen Qing—”
“Stop saying her name in our marriage bed!” Jin Guangyao bursts out.
Jiang Wanyin pauses for a moment. “Are you crying?” he asks incredulously.
“There was too much perfume at the banquet,” says Jin Guangyao icily, patting at his face with his fingers. “It irritated my eyes.”
Jiang Wanyin leans out of the bed and snatches up some tissues from the night stand. He brushes them gently over Jin Guangyao’s wet cheeks, then balls them up and tosses them into the wastebasket. “You,” says Jiang Wanyin, pressing his lips to Jin Guangyao’s forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, “are so fucking weird.” Their lips meet, and Jiang Wanyin presses him down into the bed, licking into him sweetly. When he pulls away, he says, “And we’re going to the hospital right away.”
“Or,” says Jin Guangyao, sliding his fingers into Jiang Wanyin’s hair and gripping tightly to hold him in place. “We could have sex in a way that doesn’t irritate my foot, and then go to the hospital and tell them that the injury happened mid-coitus, but I was so blissed out I didn’t even notice until after.”
“Or,” says Jiang Wanyin against Jin Guangyao’s lips, “we could go to the hospital right away and still feed them that story.”
Jin Guangyao hesitates. He considers the idea from all angles. He looks down at his foot, which gives an especially painful throb en cue. Finally, he meets Jiang Wanyin’s eyes for the first time since they entered the bedroom. “Have I mentioned recently that I love you?”
“I could stand to hear it more often,” Jiang Wanyin allows. He bites at Jin Guangyao’s lower lip one more time before pulling away completely and gathering Jin Guangyao up in his arms. “You know,” says Jiang Wanyin as he carries Jin Guangyao back out of the room. “If I had been getting married to Wen Qing—”
Jin Guangyao wraps his hands lightly around Jiang Wanyin’s throat. “For balance,” he explains, smiling. “Yes? You were saying?”
“—I would have been imagining I was with you, instead,” Jiang Wanyin continues evenly. “And not thinking of how you could be providing medical assistance to help her out. I would have been imagining touching you, having you under me, being inside you. Imagining you were mine.”
Jin Guangyao turns his head into Jiang Wanyin’s shoulder to hide his smile.
“What do you think?” asks Jiang Wanyin, maneuvering Jin Guangyao gently so that he can lock their front door. “Would that have been an auspicious sign for my marriage to her?”
Jin Guangyao hums thoughtfully. “Probably not,” he sighs, letting Jiang Wanyin settle him into the passenger seat of his car. “It’s probably a good thing that you ended up with me, then.”
“Too bad,” says Jiang Wanyin. “I guess I’ll just have to settle.”
The hospital staff are chastising with Jiang Wanyin and amused and sympathetic with Jin Guangyao. They’re still teasing them as they wheel Jin Guangyao through the lobby, where an elderly woman overhears and tells them, “Oh, congratulations! How wonderful!” and they learn all about the three separate sisters she had whose wedding-night injuries foretold their long and happy marriages. “But it would have been even better if you’d gotten your injury during the ceremony itself,” she tells them. “My sister-in-law cut her hand during the wedding banquet—there was blood everywhere—and not only did she enjoy the best of marriages with my brother, she had seven healthy children!”
If Jin Guangyao is much more cheery on the ride home, that’s just because of the painkillers. He’s still not superstitious.