Chapter Text
Gremlin No.1: The Bastard PT1
Meng Yao pushed XiChen away from him, for all he had done in his life XiChen was something he could never regret, someone he would never leave behind. ONce he would have said the same of MingJue but now-
Meng Yao woke up in the Magnolia room, the smell of his mother's incense drifting through the air. The distancing feeling of loss hung around his shoulder's weighing down on his thin frame. Tomorrow would be Meng Yao's 9th birthday, an occasion his mother has been saving up for. He turned on his side, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest on the opposite bed. He was under no illusion of her state, she was dying, and for all the cultivation manuals and literacy his mother has been teaching him, he would always be the son of a whore, unable to afford the medicine needed to continue to support her.
Sitting up in bed, he looked towards the night sky. Once again, his heart felt heavy, gripped within a vice, constricted by an invisible snake. On instinct his hands drifted towards his leg, where he found something wrapped around his leg. He scrunched up his robes and pushed down his trousers. To his surprise and awe, there was a beautiful golden soft sword wrapped around his thigh, a piece of torn paper attached to the handle.
Meng Yao shifted his leg and drew the sword away slowly. Despite his excitement, Meng Yao was by no means stupid, the sword was dangerous, and his core was not even the size of a nugget, reading the information that could be on the paper would be important. He slowly unbound the parchment around the handle. The paper was torn and clearly written in a hurry, but nonetheless, Meng Yao could recognise his won distinctive handwriting on the parchment.
Curiously, the parchment was labelled "摩厉以须" (The blade can only be sharpened with time). Underneath the title was a simple numbered list. The first point was simply: A-Huan would look marvellous with an aster in his hair during the wedding. The second point was labelled: YiLing, YueYang,QingHe. Confused but curious Meng Yao continues to the final legible point on the paper that reads: 烽火照西京 (The Signal fire illuminates the western capital). He sighs and tucks the paper away in his sleeve. Lifting the sword Meng Yao admires the blade. It was clearly not like the ones he has read about in his manuals but it just felt right in his hands.
On an impulse, Meng Yao throws the blade onto the ground, hopping onto it and feeling the elation lift him higher and higher, until his head grazed the ceiling. Perhaps his elation clouded his head, or he had simply lost his mind, but Meng Yao snatched up his small travel pouch and opened the window. With the rising sun now guiding him, Meng Yao sets off towards YiLing. With nothing in his mind but the need to find something, or maybe someone and the sudden craving for a very, very spicy meat bun.