ranita
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Summary
Wen Kexing knows he is in love, but he's not sure what happens next.
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A Storm of Laughter in the Stillness of the Jingshi by OnlyMeAndMyBones
Fandoms: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
19 Oct 2020
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Summary
Six months have passed since the massacre at Nightless City.
Three months have passed since Wei Wuxian died during the siege of Burial Mounds.
He wakes up gasping for air.
Why was he brought back?
He stumbles through a world that doesn't miss him and doesn't want him back.
He's alone.
No one waits for him.
No one needs him.
No one?Where will he go?
Spanish translation on Wattpad: Una Tormenta de risa en la quietud del Jingshi
Series
- Part 2 of The Sun and the Storm
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Summary
“We’re going home,” Zhou Zishu huffs when he pulls Wen Kexing’s arms over his shoulders, then hitches his legs around his waist. He hops in place to get a good grip under the bends of his knees, then makes sure his robe is covering as much of Wen Kexing as it can. “If you die before we get there, the first thing Shixiong will do when we see each other on Naihe Bridge is hit you.”
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i don't know how it gets better than this by livinginaworldofnoise
Fandoms: 山河令 | Word of Honor (TV 2021), 天涯客 | Faraway Wanderers - priest
09 Apr 2021
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Summary
“You know there’s an Instagram dedicated to shipping us,” Wen Kexing says in the teachers lounge later that day with barely repressed glee. "I don’t know whether to find it sweet or a bit creepy.”
“Definitely creepy,” Zhou Zishu declares. “These kids are devils.”
OR: the inherent absurdity of your students trying to matchmake you with your husband
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Summary
He reaches for Wen Kexing's hands; touching Wen Kexing has become as natural as breathing, or perhaps it's the other way around. Being with Wen Kexing means being alive, or maybe not something quite so all-consuming as being alive, but rather the many smaller intimacies that coalesce into a life: Wen Kexing is the click of chopsticks at a common table and the rustle of blankets in a shared bed.
Wen Kexing's hands are cooler than normal. At first, Zhou Zishu attributes it to the chill of the room, but when he feels for a pulse in his wrist and finds nothing, his stomach curdles like souring milk.