Work Text:
The boy was small and dirty. He looked up blankly when Jiang Fengmian approached him, asked kindly, “Wei Ying?”
It was a miracle that after four years, he still remembered his own name. And that had been the end of the matter. He took him back to Yunmeng, and raised him as his own son.
Wei Ying was always smiling. He had a rather pleasant disposition, and despite a rough beginning, before long he and Jiang Cheng were laughing together before long.
His wife did not take it as well. She raged at him, and he accepted it. If this was the payment he had to pay to care for Cangse-Sanren’s son, then it was an easy price.
Yu Ziyuan’s ire faded over time. After all, when both Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng were put on the training grounds, it was clear that the latter possessed far more innate talent.
Wei Wuxian, as he became known as, was not the most talented cultivator. But he was remarkably intelligent, possessed a quick wit and such a good temperament and personality that one couldn’t help but admire him regardless of his talent.
“When you become sect leader,” Wei Wuxian said to Jiang Cheng teasingly, “I’ll help you out with diplomatic things. You scowl too much.”
They were both eleven at the time, and taking a quick rest. It was mid-afternoon, and the heat was practically unbearable. Sweat stained both their clothes.
Jiang Cheng scowled at this, but replied magnanimously, “In return, you’ll be my best person.”
“Best person?”
“Best person,” Jiang Cheng said. “Just the best person. I’ll like you best.”
“That sounds good to me,” Wei Wuxian laughed, then switched topics. “In any case, I should run through those sword forms.”
Jiang Cheng returned confusedly, “But you already did, and it was all correct.”
“I know. But it can’t be helped,” Wei Wuxian said, “I don’t have any spiritual power to put any real force behind it unless I concentrate. It’s hard to think on both the sword form and the power all at once, so I think I should practice the former until I can do it without thinking hard about it, and then I can just focus on the latter.”
Without waiting for a response, he got back up and picked up a training sword.
Jiang Cheng watched him for minute or two, then got back up too and did them with him.
He said when Wei Wuxian threw him a questioning look, “I’ll do them with you.”
At thirteen, they were running through Yunmeng together, laughing boisterously and taking their first sips of liquor with exaggerated gagging sounds. They swam in the lake and picked lotus pods. They both had swords forged for them.
“Sandu,” Jiang Cheng said proudly, when Wei Wuxian asked for the name. “Yours?”
Wei Wuxian flushed uncomfortably. “I… made a mistake.”
“What?”
“When Uncle Jiang asked me for a name, I said, ‘Don’t know… could I possibly decide later?’ And then…” He helplessly held out the newly forged sword.
Jiang Cheng leaned forward and choked.
“不知道?” He got out, and Wei Wuxian nodded meekly.
“Have it remade,” Jiang Cheng said immediately.
“I still can’t think of a name I would like, though,” Wei Wuxian said. “And it’s a perfectly fine sword otherwise.”
And so the sword named “Don’t Know” stayed. Wei Wuxian had a knack of getting around saying it aloud, so much that he admitted to Jiang Cheng a few months later, “I’m beginning to like the name.”
“You are?” Jiang Cheng stared at him like he was crazy.
“It’s fun,” Wei Wuxian replied. “I have to really work to misdirect people into thinking about something else, and I found out it’s a strange, but interesting pastime.”
“Well, you’re very good at it,” Jiang Cheng said compromisingly, but he still stared at Wei Wuxian a bit oddly.
The one time he didn’t try to change the subject at all was when Jin Zixuan came by again. Just as always, he was an unwilling visitor, and Jiang Cheng was just about ready to punch him after he snapped after Jiang Yanli once too many when Wei Wuxian said appeasingly, “Jin Zixuan, I see you’ve gotten your sword forged!”
He sneered and said, “I did.”
“It’s name?”
“Suihua,” Jin Zixuan replied, and reluctantly returned when he saw that Wei Wuxian had his own sword as well, “And the name of yours?”
“I don’t know,” Wei Wuxian said guilelessly. “Why would I?”
Jiang Cheng laughed about it for weeks. “His expression when you said that,” he said. “He looked so confused!”
Wei Wuxian laughed with him. “I wish he weren’t so harsh on shijie,” he said carefully.
“You should just say it without diplomacy,” Jiang Cheng snorted. “Jin Zixuan is horrible, and I hope he never comes over again. Jie doesn’t deserve to get married to someone as terrible as him. She keeps saying that he’ll probably get better as he grows up, but I bet he’ll become a womanizer just like his father.”
Wei Wuxian replied noncommittally, “Mm.”
From thirteen to fifteen, they did not grow apart.
They rolled down hills together, pushed each other into mud pits and shot kites down. They grew up together, and something began to change.
As Wei Wuxian grew, his features became rather handsome. Not amazingly so, but he was pleasing to look at and Jiang Cheng found as if he would stare him longer.
Jiang Cheng, on the hand, had always been a good-looking child, and it did not change as he became a tall, sharp-looking youth. They were at a marriageable age, and something began to change.
They spent more time together. They poured each other alcohol and drank from the same cup, they wrestled with vigor and made more and more excuses to run around together, doing nothing but talking and laughing around the lake.
When they were fifteen, Jiang Cheng kissed Wei Wuxian when they were lighting lanterns into the night sky.
Wei Wuxian returned it, and they laughed some more into the night.
But soon, Wei Wuxian’s smile faded as the night progressed, and Jiang Cheng’s own faltered because of it.
“A-Cheng,” Wei Wuxian said, staring straight ahead, “There’s something I want to tell you.”
Wei Wuxian said finally, “There’s no good way to say it. Do remember when Uncle Jiang first brought me here?”
“I remember enough.”
“He didn’t find me too far from the Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian said. “I was living on the streets when he found me.”
“I know.”
“He took me in because he was good friends with my parents.”
Jiang Cheng finally said, “Wei Wuxian, what are you trying to get at?”
Wei Wuxian continued as if he hadn’t said anything to begin with. “I have a very good memory, and I remember my mother before she died very well. Yet, I don’t remember my father at all. The reason behind this is just that he was never there. The entire time since I’ve been born to when Uncle Jiang found me, I didn’t see him once.”
“…”
“But my mother always told me stories about him,” Wei Wuxian said. “About who he was, and what a great person he was. She always wanted to see him again. But then she died, and she never had the chance to.”
Jiang Cheng said very slowly, “Cangse-Sanren and her husband… died on the same night hunt.”
“I know,” Wei Wuxian could only smile helplessly. “As I said, I don’t know how to say it properly.”
Jiang Cheng wasn’t stupid, and he caught on quick enough. “You lied to my father,” he said slowly, and something rising in his voice. “You aren’t Wei Wuxian at all.”
“I was thrown to the streets after my mother died,” Wei Wuxian turned to Jiang Cheng sharply. “Every day I went to sleep starving, and every day I had to fight like a dog to just find a bit of rotten rice to eat and throw up the day after. I lived like that for four years. It’s a life I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”
“You –”
“I didn’t mean to lie at the time,” Wei Wuxian said, and his voice faltered. “Uncle Jiang simply called a name out, and I happened to look up. Before I knew it, he was giving things to eat, and clothes that weren’t rags to wear. I thought, even if I wasn’t Wei Ying, it wouldn’t hurt to pretend a bit. I was so hungry, A-Cheng. I was so cold. I didn’t mean to lie to begin with, but I continued because I didn’t want to die.”
“So you lied for the next six years?” Jiang Cheng snapped. “You could have told someone! You could have told me!”
“I was scared,” he said, and his tone was heartfelt. “In the end, I’m nothing more than a gutter rat, right? Why should Uncle Jiang keep me if I’m not Wei Ying?”
“I wouldn’t have told him then,” Jiang Cheng snarled, and Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t care what your name is! I don’t care if you’re just some nobody! To me, you’re always someone! You’re you! It’s not about that! Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian said. “I was wrong. I should have told you. The longer I lied, the worse I felt. You have all been good to me, and I’ve repaid you with nothing but falsity. It’s why I’m telling you now, because I don’t want to keep this up anymore.”
His tone was honest and sincere, and Jiang Cheng already felt himself cracking. “Why didn’t you just tell me,” he repeated.
“I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian said miserably, “I want to make this right. I like you, A-Cheng, and I told you because I wanted you to know. I hope you can forgive me.”
In the darkness, neither of them spoke for a moment. The water of Lotus Lake lapped at the wooden planks.
“You’ve lied to me the entire time,” Jiang Cheng finally said. “How do I know you’re not lying about this?”
Wei Wuxian responded simply, “That one lie filled me with enough guilt, how could I possibly stomach another?” Then he said, “Would I really have kissed you otherwise?”
Trust me, he wanted to say. Wei Wuxian had always been good with lying. But he didn’t want to lie to Jiang Cheng anymore.
“… I’ll forgive you if I can know one thing,” he said finally.
“What is it?” Wei Wuxian said immediately.
“I want to know your real name,” Jiang Cheng said.
“… I haven’t gone by that name in a very long time.”
“Even so, I want to know,” he persisted. In a lower voice he muttered awkwardly, “I want to know more about you.”
At that, Wei Wuxian laughed merrily as Jiang Cheng flushed.
“Meng Yao,” he finally relented. “I was called Meng Yao.”