Lan Jingyi has a problem.
He has a 188 cm tall problem.
Specifically a 188 cm, purple robed, 17 years his senior, living emodiment of grumpy, and his bestfriend's uncle problem.
He could already hear A-Yuan's scolding in his head.
Sect rule number 107: Don't engage in disrespectful actions regarding other sect's leaders
He wasn't sure what would count as disrespectful but he was pretty sure his numerous daydreams of a certain sect leader would be just that.
Sect rule number 453: Avoid unnecessary touching of your seniors
Thats a rule he would love to break someday.
Sect rule number 800: Do not take things that don't belong to you
Oops. Jingyi thought as he remembered the purple ribbon he hid in his pillow.
Sect rule number 1728: Avoid impure thoughts until after you have reached of age.
That was definitely a rule he's broken numerous times a day since he was 15.
Sect rule number 3460: No engagment in onanism or within seeing or hearing distance of anyone
That was a rule put into order after Hanguang Jun and Wei Wuxian's return to the Cloud Recess. It only took one incident for this to be added to the ever so spacious bolder, but it was once incident too many.
That was also a rule he often broke since he was 15.
If you were to ask Jingyi to pinpoint a specific moment in time when he fell for the angry purple grape of a sect leader, he'd honestly not be able to tell you.
Perhaps it blossomed from cautious side glances during his first attendence at the annual Kol tower meetings as a junior disciple where the impressive Sect Leader Jiang was accompanied by his haughty and complaintive 12 year old nephew.
Perhaps it was a little after that when the cultivator appeared in the aftermaths of the battle at the foot of Dafan Mountain. Where he had looked so guarded, Jingyi couldn't resist the chance to rile him up and break past that steel mask.
Perhaps it was before all of that. Maybe it all started in his earliest day of wobbly legs and teary eyes.
Like many others with cultivator's tie, he had grown with the stories of the Sunshot Campaign, the Burial Mound Sieges, and youths that grew up too soon.
Lan Xichen, the leader of Jingyi's sect, had taken over his share of responsibilites at the tender age of 8. His mother had just passed away, his father gone into seclusion, his uncle tasked with preparing Xichen for his role as future sect leader.
Nie Mingjue, the leader of the Nie Sect who comes from a long line of people living to the ripen age of 30 due to Qi Deviation. Not only had he been a young cultivator with the weight of a sect on his shoudlers, but he had raise his half brother who happened to be half his age and had half his health.
Jin Guangyao, alongside the Lan and Nie leaders, a Venerated Triple. His story was something unique. Born a son of paternal cultivator's blood, disgraced by his material common blood; he once found a home in the Nie sect, then later again in his own. A disgraced son who is now known as the Cheif Cultivator, now that was a story.
None of them however, held a light next to that of the Jiang Sect Leader.
Twin Hero of Yunmeng, they once called him.
What a shame, they said.
The sole survivor of the original Jiang Clan, with nothing and no one left.
From the literal ashes of his old home, he rebuilt his sect.
He had raised his late sister's child and shouldered the responsibilies of a sect leader during his most vulnerable times.
His only surviving family- his brother- had taken the path to demonic cultivation, hell, he had paved the path for demonic cultivation. The other half to his Twin Heroes of Yunmeng that he had ended the life of.
Sect Leader Jiang had lived a life of grief and survived, but his thriving sect showed the fruits of his labor.
And that brings us back to the present where Lan Jingyi was in the Library copying his punishment.
In his defense it wasn't his fault.
He was up past the 9pm curfew last night, lost in the sweet nostalgia of the story scrolls in his room. Thus he had woken up this morning late, drooling on a page of the sunshot campaign.
Noticing it was a little past 6, he hadn't bothered smoothing over his robe or fixing his ribbon- both of which, no doubt came loose during the night.
He just RAN.
He ran as if he had encountered a ghost.
He ran as if he was Wei Wuxian and Fairy had just came into his line of sight.
He ran as if Lan Qiren was about to dish out his next punishment for rumpled robes, haphazardly tied ribbon, missing breakfast, sweating, being late, and running.
He ran until
As he manuvered a corner, he collided into something solid, purple, and very surprised.
Both parites, unable to keep balance, toppled over.
For the first time since he woke, Jingyi was able to take a deep breath. A smoky lotus filled his senses, grounding his spinning head.
Hi i'm sorry updates are really slow but it's senior year and i literally haven't done any of my college forms yet so i'm procrasinating whilst having a panic attack every 5 minutes.
And someone decided it was a good idea to put all 3 of my ap classes back to back in the morning so thats also nice.
The sun was shining.
The bird were singing.
There was a hint of sweet morning dew in the air carried by a dry breeze.
This day was off to a great start, and Jiang Wanyin, for once, woke up in peace.
Cloud Recess was quiet, unlike the mayhem of noises and crashing waves of Yunmeng.
Though, not home, it was comforting to hear the chirping of birds over the distant rustles of leaves.
A reminder of happier times, where all he had to worry about were pranks and not getting caught by Lan Qiren.
My god i sound like an old man on his death bed, he thought as he chuckled to himself.
A reminisce of his years as a student, Jiang Wanyin found himself with twin braids framing a loose head of hair together.
Following the rhythm he woke up to, he walked outside to enjoy the serenity that accompanied the Cloud Recess image.
He expected to be met with the sight of trees in an array of sunrise colors, a crisp zephyr, and maybe a couple of birds.
He expected the occassional servents dressed in white and grey robes, maybe even a few meticulous disciplines with their seasoned Lan grace.
Instead what he got were the sound of footsteps too loud, too fast, and too not-lan.
Years of training could not prepare him for what came next.
A solid warmth slammed into him.
He got a face full of unruly black waves.
And a flushed disciple with a tell-tale ribbon on top of him.
Then something else happened.
The damnned ribbon came loose.
Jiang Wanyin could only watch as the clouded fabric fluttered down to land on his face.