“We’re not a clan, you’re not a clan leader, and I’m not your wife,” Wen Qing snaps, wiping her hands on her skirts and looking down at him, which he knows she likes to do, so he doesn’t feel too chastened by it. “It’s been nine days since the last time one of our people was snatched off the path, and he lost an ear before we could get to him. But you’re right, why not get comfortable?” Wei Wuxian cocks his head. “So you admit they’re our people?”

In life and in death, Xichen’s love will never leave him. (or: nie mingjue's fierce corpse is granted sentience, and sets out to fix things.)

Pain Is What Makes Us People

Lan Wangji leaned forward to lick the sweat off of Wei Wuxian’s neck. “I am fucking you,” he said as Wei Wuxian started to whine. He took his hand away, blinking his way back into the jingshi. Lan Wangji was laying there as unruffled as ever. “You really like the begging, huh?” Wei Wuxian said weakly. Lan Wangji’s smile was so warm, his eyes so soft. He said, “Wei Ying’s voice is pleasing to me.” --- Wei Wuxian can read Lan Wangji's mind. He's surprised by what he finds there.

Sometimes Lan Qiren wondered why Nie Huaisang was so determined to hide his light under a stone. He would have long ago grown bored of playing weiqi against the foolish headshaker of legend or the vacant-eyed crybaby that perennially sobbed into his nephew’s sleeve, and yet they had been playing these games for years and years, all throughout the decade since Nie Huaisang had become Sect Leader. He didn’t ask, though, and he didn’t point it out to anyone. He’d find out the reason, one day.

Nie Mingjue A northern soldier. Old with a grey beard, Baxia took his head clean off.