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It had happened so fast.
Wei Wuxian had promised it was just a harmless little cleansing rite. “A formality,” he'd said, smiling that infamous smile of his while waving around a talisman that sizzled ominously in the sunlight.
It had, predictably, gone wrong.
In hindsight, Nie Huaisang should’ve known better than to follow Wei Wuxian into anything. But he'd been bored, Wei Wuxian had been unusually persuasive, and the village did have a charming little teahouse. It had all sounded harmless enough.
Now, with a bruised hip, a shallow scratch across his shoulder, and his pride thoroughly wounded, he was being babied by every overly efficient healer in the vicinity.
Which, apparently, now included Wen Ning.
“Wei-xiong sent you?”
“I volunteered.” The Ghost General bowed before the headshaker. Wen Ning stood beside the bed with a tray, clean bandages, a small jar of salve, and a politely neutral expression.
Nie Huaisang almost scoffed at the thought. With a flick of his wrist, his fan bloomed open, each rib snapping into place with soft precision. Beneath the fluttering fan, it was easier to keep up his deceiving acts.
He blinked and tilted his head, “You? A doctor? My, how versatile you are, Wen-gongzi.”
The headshaker chuckled, trying to keep the atmosphere light and at ease. But as the silence between the two men grew, so did his irritation.
“You really meant that, didn’t you?”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
Nie Huaisang's lips quivered at the ridiculous suggestion. Did Wei Wuxian think it was funny to send a fierce corpse to take care of a Sect leader?
He stared at Wen Ning like he had grown antlers, “You,” he said slowly, pointing a slender finger, “are not a doctor.”
The Ghost General blinked. “Wei-gongzi asked me to help. I’ve assisted the healers before.”
“That,” Nie Huaisang narrowed his eyes, “is exactly the kind of thing he would say if he were plotting something. Is this a joke? Did Wei Wuxian put you up to this? Are there hidden talismans in the salve? Is that going to explode?”
Wen Ning’s eyebrows furrowed. “I- no! I wouldn’t- we wouldn’t do that to you. Why would you think such things?”
“Hmm.” Nie Huaisang folded his arms and leaned back, watching him like a wary cat. “Because I have been the victim of Wei Wuxian’s sense of humor before, thank you. Last time I agreed to one of his remedies, I smelled like pickled lotus root for three days.”
Wen Ning, clearly distressed, held up the jar of salve like it was evidence in his defense. “It’s just cooling balm. You can check it if you want.”
Nie Huaisang didn't take the jar. Instead, he looked at the Ghost General, and his suspicion faltered just slightly at the quiet sincerity in those wide, careful eyes.
“…Alright,” he said after a beat, lowering his fan with a sigh. “But if this ends with me glowing in the dark, I’m haunting all of you.”
Wen Ning let out a sigh, relieved. “It won’t.”
It was safe to say that the Nie disciples did not like having the Ghost General around and coddling their Sect leader.
By the third day, the whispers had grown bolder.
Wen Ning wasn’t hard to ignore, he moved like mist, silent-footed, soft-voiced, never demanding—but his presence was hard to forget. Servants went quiet when he passed. Disciples shifted uncomfortably in the halls. Someone had started placing talismans in doorways again.
Nie Huaisang noticed, of course. He noticed everything.
He caught the way one of his own aides flinched when handing Wen Ning a folded towel. Saw the way two outer disciples made excuses to leave the corridor when Wen Ning approached with a tray of tea. They never said anything, but that was the thing about fear: it didn’t have to be loud to poison the air.
That evening, Nie Huaisang sat beneath the eaves, sketching lazily with a brush and fan in hand. His shoulders relaxed as he heard the door behind him slide open, knowing who was here.
He spoke without looking up, “They think you're going to kill me in my sleep, you know.”
Wen Ning paused in the middle of setting down a bowl of medicine, turning his head to look at Nie Huaisang. “I… I wouldn’t.”
“I know that,” Nie Huaisang said breezily, tapping his brush against the rim of the inkstone. “You haven’t even raised your voice, let alone a finger. Honestly, if anyone’s at risk here, it’s you. Cultivators can be very superstitious.”
Wen Ning said nothing.
The silence stretched a moment too long, until Nie Huaisang glanced up and felt something tighten in his chest.
Wen Ning’s eyes were on the floor, his shoulders drawn inward the way one curls around an old bruise. He didn’t look angry. He looked used to it.
“…You don’t have to stay,” Nie Huaisang reassured, a little softer this time. “If you’d rather not.”
“I don’t mind,” Wen Ning responded quietly. “You don’t flinch.”
Nie Huaisang blinked.
Wen Ning shifted, like maybe he shouldn’t have said that. “I mean… you speak to me like I’m still a person.”
Nie Huaisang flicked his brush again and sighed before turning to the bowl that Wen Ning had brought out. Taking it in his hands, he muttered, "This better not taste like dirt." Although his voice seemed composed, just like he practiced, he was internally screaming at the top of his lungs. Taking one sip, his taste buds were immediately overwhelmed with the earthy taste of the medicine.
"Nie-zongzhu, please bear with it. You need to heal." Wen Ning pleaded.
"It's disgusting! Can't you make it taste better, please?" Nie Huaisang whined, placing the bowl back down.
"The more you swallow, the less bitterness you have to taste." Wen Ning said more softly this time, offering the bowl to Nie Huaisang once more. "So please."
The Ghost General had taken to watering the potted herbs outside Nie Huaisang’s room.
He didn’t have to. No one had asked. But the plants were starting to lean and droop from neglect, and he figured if he was staying, he might as well be helpful.
Nie Huaisang peeked out from behind the curtain and watched him for a while. Wen Ning, sleeves rolled to the elbows, crouched beside a ceramic pot like it might bruise if he moved too fast. The watering can was comically small in his hands.
“You know,” Nie Huaisang called, leaning lazily against the doorframe, “people are going to start thinking you're my personal servant.”
Wen Ning blinked, looking up. “Is that… bad?”
“Only for your reputation,” Nie Huaisang answered with a smirk, stepping outside and shielding his eyes from the sun. “Mine will be vastly improved if it looks like I’ve domesticated the Ghost General.”
Wen Ning’s lips twitched into a smile. “I don’t think anyone believes that.”
Nie Huaisang clicked his tongue. “So rude.”
He sat down on the porch with a sigh and fanned himself lazily. A moment passed. Then another. He glanced sideways, voice quieter. “Thank you,” he said, almost offhandedly. “For helping. Even with the boring things.”
Wen Ning glanced over, a little surprised. “It’s not boring. I like it here. It’s… calm.”
“Hmm?” Nie Huaisang hummed. “That’s a new one. Most people find Qinghe oppressive.”
“I don’t mind,” Wen Ning said simply, returning to the herbs. “It’s quieter than most places. And you’re kind to me.”
That startled the headshaker into stillness for a beat. He recovered quickly, too quickly. “Flattery from the undead. How charming.”
Wen Ning didn’t reply. He just smiled again, small and sincere, as he gently tilted a pot so the water could soak evenly.
And Nie Huaisang, sitting in the dappled sunlight with a fan in his lap and his hair half-unbound, found himself wondering when the last time was that someone had looked at him like he was the calm one.
The library was dim, save for the flickering glow of a single candle. The night outside was quiet, the usual bustle of the sect distant behind closed windows. Inside, only the sound of gentle turning pages broke the silence, until a soft breeze drifted through an open window, making the candle flicker. Nie Huaisang had been reading, his head tilted as he scanned a particularly tedious text, but his attention wavered. He was growing more and more distracted by the presence standing beside him.
Wen Ning had been so quietly attentive for the past few days, following his every request with no hesitation, even in the most mundane tasks. And yet there was an unspoken space between them—a pull in the air that neither of them had dared to address.
“I’m starting to think this book is cursed,” Nie Huaisang muttered with a small frown, closing it with a soft thud.
Wen Ning, who had been silently organizing the scrolls on the nearby table, glanced over with a slight smile. “Maybe you should rest.”
Nie Huaisang raised an eyebrow. “Rest?” He paused, then sighed dramatically, leaning back against his chair, stretching. “I suppose I could.”
Wen Ning had come out to join him, as he often did in the evenings, without asking. It wasn’t an invitation, but the way he moved, the way his eyes flicked from Nie Huaisang to the ground, said it was something more.
“I didn’t think you’d still be awake,” Nie Huaisang said softly, his voice playful, but the warmth in his chest was undeniable.
"I don't need to sleep."
"Right..."
Nie Huaisang chuckled awkwardly, realizing how stupid his previous words were. He looked away briefly, gathering his words before playfully teasing the other man, “You’re quieter than usual. Did you decide that you don't like me anymore?”
Wen Ning seemed to swallow back whatever had been on his mind, then nodded. His gaze dropped again, his shoulders tensing slightly. “I like being around you, really. It’s just…”
“Just?” Nie Huaisang prodded gently, his tone full of curiosity.
Wen Ning didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes flicked back to Nie Huaisang’s face, lingering there for just a moment before he stepped closer, tentative, unsure, as if his body was making the decision before his mind had fully caught up.
The quiet in the air between them deepened, stretching until it felt like there was no more space left between their breaths. And then, Wen Ning was close enough that Nie Huaisang could see the faint tremble in his hands. “I don’t know what to say,” Wen Ning murmured, his voice low, like the words were heavy in his mouth.
Without thinking, Nie Huaisang reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against Wen Ning’s arm. "I'm already used to you being quiet." Nie Huaisang moved closer, his voice barely more than a whisper.
The space between them had been shrinking for days, and now, it seemed that neither of them was willing to pull back anymore.
Wen Ning reached up, his fingers brushing the side of Nie Huaisang's cheek, a slow, deliberate movement. Nie Huaisang's eyes fluttered closed at the touch, and Wen Ning felt the world slip away for just a moment—just them, in the quiet of the night. Then, almost without realizing it, they were closer, so close that there was no more air between them, no more uncertainty. Wen Ning’s chapped lips brushed against Nie Huaisang’s, slow and tentative at first, as if testing the waters. Nie Huaisang’s breath hitched, and his fingers found their way to Wen Ning’s shoulder, pulling him closer.
The kiss deepened, slow and warm, without the rush of urgency but with the steady pull of something neither of them could deny. Nie Huaisang’s heart raced, his hands moving to rest against Wen Ning’s chest. When they finally pulled away, it was only by a fraction, their foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling. Wen Ning’s eyes were still closed, his hand hovering at Nie Huaisang’s side, as though afraid the moment might slip away if he moved too quickly.
Nie Huaisang smiled softly, his fingers tracing the muscle beneath the ragged clothing. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Wen Ning opened his eyes slowly, the warmth in his gaze more than just physical closeness. “No,” he whispered. “It wasn’t.”
“I’ve never…” The headshaker began, the words almost getting lost in the silence, “felt like this before.”
While it was true that Nie Huaisang had his fair share of both men and women in the past, he'd never harbored feelings other than lust towards them. How is it that a literal fierce corpse was the one who had him feeling like this?
Wen Ning’s hand found Huaisang’s, holding it against his chest. “Neither have I,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
With that, the space between them closed again, their lips meeting in a tentative, slow kiss once more, but full of everything they hadn’t yet said, everything they’d been afraid to admit. Their hands moved gently, their bodies shifting together with a new, unspoken understanding. There was no more hesitation. No more second-guessing. Just the quiet, overwhelming pull of each other’s presence. And as the night stretched on, with nothing but the quiet hum of the world outside, the two of them simply were... together, in a way neither could quite explain, but neither of them would ever want to undo.
Nie Huaisang's room was dim now, the last lantern burning low, its golden light flickering against the paper walls. The silence that settled between them wasn’t awkward—it was full, heavy with the shared weight of something new. Wen Ning sat on the edge of the bedding, his hair loose over his shoulders, eyes cast downward as he reached for the outer layer of his robes, clearly preparing to leave. Nie Huaisang, lying beside him, watched the movement with quiet dread growing in his chest.
“…Where are you going?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, almost cautious.
Wen Ning paused. “I thought I should let you rest. You probably want space.”
Nie Huaisang shifted, sitting up slightly, the sheet slipping down his shoulder. His hair was tousled, his lips still pink, his eyes dark with something softer than sleep. “I don’t.” he said simply. “Not from you. That's the last thing I need from you.”
Wen Ning turned slowly to face him, surprised, unsure. “You… don’t?”
Nie Huaisang reached out and gently tugged at the edge of his sleeve, not hard, just enough to stop him from moving. “Don’t go. Not tonight.” He tried to keep his tone light, casual, the way he always did, but the edges frayed. There was something real in it, unpolished. “You don’t have to lie stiffly on the edge of the bed like some decorum-abiding gentleman. I know it’s a little scandalous, but we’re already past that part, don’t you think?”
Wen Ning opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. There was a softness in his expression now—something caught between surprise and a kind of deep, unspoken emotion. “You’re not scared of me?” he asked quietly.
The headshaker blinked, a little stunned. Then he laughed under his breath and scooted closer, tugging Wen Ning down by the wrist until he sat properly on the bedding again. “Wen-gongzi,” he said, voice light but sincere, “you’re the only person I sleep easier around.”
Wen Ning’s eyes searched his face, still not entirely believing, like this moment couldn’t possibly be real. But Nie Huaisang simply curled toward him, his cheek brushing against Wen Ning’s shoulder as he settled in, clearly making room. “You can lie down, you know,” he mumbled into the fabric of Wen Ning’s robe. “Unless you’d rather stand in the corner like a lonely ghost statue. Again.”
Wen Ning hesitated, but then, slowly, carefully, he lay down beside Huaisang. The futon dipped slightly beneath his weight, and Nie Huaisang turned toward him instinctively, curling close, his fingers finding the edge of Wen Ning’s sleeve again and holding on like it meant something. Wen Ning stayed still for a long time, uncertain of where to place his hands, of how to breathe. But then he felt the gentle weight of Nie Huaisang’s head resting against his shoulder, his breath evening out, warm and quiet. He felt the fingers wrapped around his wrist loosen, not from fear—but from trust.
“I’ll stay,” Wen Ning whispered, just barely audible.
“…You’re lying like a board,” Nie Huaisang muttered into the dark.
Wen Ning blinked. “I didn’t want to crowd you.”
“You were crowding me earlier,” Nie Huaisang pointed out, turning just enough to glance over his shoulder. His hair fell across his cheek, and the moonlight caught in his lashes. “What changed?”
Wen Ning’s mouth opened, then closed again. “I just… I wasn’t sure you’d still want me that close.”
“You’re making it very hard to pretend this is casual,” Nie Huaisang responded, lips quirking.
“I just don’t want to-” Wen Ning paused. “Overstep.”
“You already kissed me breathless,” Nie Huaisang murmured, reaching out to lightly tug at the hem of Wen Ning’s sleeve. “I think you’ve earned the right to lie down next to me like a normal human being. Or… near-human being?”
Wen Ning went quiet again, but after a long moment, he let out a soft sigh. Then, tentative, hesitant—he lifted one arm and wrapped it around Huaisang’s back. The shift was awkward, too gentle, like he was worried Nie Huaisang might disappear if he held too tightly.
But Nie Huaisang only melted into him.
“That’s better,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to Wen Ning’s neck now, voice thick with sleep. “See? This is nice.”
Nie Huaisang shifted in closer, tucking his head under Wen Ning’s chin, one arm draped lazily across his waist. Wen Ning didn’t answer, but his arm pulled Huaisang closer, and he pressed his cheek against Nie Huaisang’s hair, and for the first time in a such a long time, letting his eyes slip closed.
"You’re good at this,” Nie Huaisang murmured, his fingers curling lightly in Wen Ning’s robe. “I didn’t expect that.”
“I’m just… holding you,” Wen Ning whispered, a little helpless.
“You’re holding me very well,” Nie Huaisang responded, grinning into his collarbone.
Wen Ning laughed under his breath—a low, quiet sound Nie Huaisang hadn’t heard often, but adored immediately. He tightened his arms around Nie Huaisang just a little more, pulling him flush, and Nie Huaisang let him, content to tangle their legs together like they had been doing this for years. They didn’t say anything else. Didn’t need to. Nie Huaisang’s breath slowed, and Wen Ning’s did too, syncing in the hush of the room. And when sleep came for them, it came gently—curled in each other’s arms, warm, safe, and still.
Wen Ning sat still, a warm silence wrapped around him like a second robe. The rain outside had lulled to a steady rhythm, and the flickering candlelight threw soft shadows against the wooden walls. Nie Huaisang let out a quiet sigh, curling closer and resting his head against Wen Ning’s shoulder. His fan lay forgotten on the floor beside them, half-unfurled. “You’re so warm,” Nie Huaisang murmured, eyes half-lidded. “I could fall asleep like this.”
Wen Ning didn’t move, afraid that any shift would make the moment vanish. “You can. I don’t mind.”
Nie Huaisang smiled softly, not looking up. “You always say that, even if I steal a kiss in public, lean on you, ask you silly things.”
“They’re not silly,” Wen Ning said quietly. “Not to me.”
“Then,” Nie Huaisang said slowly, “is it silly if I ask what I should call you... when it’s just us?”
Wen Ning blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Like a name. A special one.” Nie Huaisang tilted his head slightly, just enough to glance up at Wen Ning’s face. “Something nice. Just for you.”
Wen Ning tilted his head a little, uncertain. “You already call me Wen Ning.”
Nie Huaisang gave a sleepy chuckle. “That’s what everyone else calls you. I want something only I can say.”
Wen Ning was quiet for a long time, looking down at their hands, Nie Huaisang’s pinky barely brushing his. “…I think I’d like it if you called me A-Ning. It's what my sister used to call me.”
Nie Huaisang smiled at that and nuzzled just a little closer. “Then you can call me A-Sang if you’d like. Or something else. If it feels right.”
Wen Ning hesitated, then leaned his head ever so slightly against Nie Huaisang’s. “A-Sang,” he said, tasting the name like a promise.
“Mm,” Nie Huaisang whispered. “That sounds right.”
Something was wrong with Wen Ning's body.
He had already died and awoke as a fierce corpse due to Wei Wuxian's cultivation.
So why is it that when he looked down between his thighs, there was a sizable bulge pressing against his trousers.
"A-Ning, I really cannot tell if you are messing with me." Nie Huaisang panted out, tears forming in the corner of the his eyes as he continued to laugh breathlessly.
Wen Ning had come to Nie Huaisang's room early in the morning in a panic, cock half-hard and twitching. And for the first time, Nie Huaisang had flinched at the sight of him. None of the servants and disciples were up yet, and the two men were barely dressed.
"A-Sang, please. I really didn't know I could do this." Wen Ning couldn't help but smile softly at Nie Huaisang's little outburst despite the strange situation of a literal fierce corpse getting hard.
Nie Huaisang placed a hand on Wen Ning inner thigh, clearly eager about this new discovery. "You've really never had an erection in all your years of being a fierce corpse?"
Wen Ning's face flushed with embarrassment at the question before nodding slowly, trying to ignore the fact that Nie Huaisang was practically having a staring contest with his clothed undead cock that was somehow throbbing. "Should we tell Wei-gongzi about it? I'm sure he'll have an explanation for this." Wen Ning asked, snapping Nie Huaisang out of his thoughts.
"But A-Ning," Nie Huaisang whined, "this is the first time I've seen you like this. Can't I have a taste?"
Wen Ning shook his head, "It may not be safe for you."
"Just a few strokes then?" Nie Huaisang suggested, his hand reaching out to palm and squeeze Wen Ning cock through his trousers. "A-Ning, please?" He begged softly.
Wen Ning was startled by the unexpected touch and he let out a low groan as a bundle of pleasure shot though him, his hips bucking up to feel more of his lover's hand. "You're not being fair, A-Sang." He gritted his teeth, never having been this hard before, back when he was still alive. Hell, he had even vowed not to touch a woman until he was properly married. And yet, here he was, letting Nie Huaisang straddle his lap, a hand still pressed against his clothed cock.
Their lips met in a desperate and urgent kiss, no longer soft and gentle like before. With slightly shaky but bold hands, Wen Ning's fingers found a nipple that poked through, the thin silk of Nie Huaisang's inner robe barely doing anything to hide the pinkish nub. He squeezed it between his fingertips, drawing a soft moan from Nie Huaisang's lips. Wen Ning's heart raced, and he could feel his arousal growing.
Nie Huaisang's fingers on the other hand, made quick work of Wen Ning's trousers, pulling the fabric down to free the throbbing, aching length beneath. Wen Ning shuddered as Nie Huaisang's hand wrapped around his cock, barely being able to encircle the girthy meat. He stroked him with a skill that defied his foolish and naive headshaker persona, staring down at the length with hunger. It made the Fierce Corpse feel like he was alive again.
Wen Ning's hands wandered with enthusiasm, lightly tugging at Nie Huaisang's robe before ripping the fabric away completely, leaving his lover bare. The smaller man pouted at that, "I really liked that one." he muttered, squeezing Wen Ning's dick tightly as a small revenge for destroying his sleepwear. He could see a small bead of pre-cum gathered at the tip and he smeared it around the length, the tip flushing a bright red from how hard it was. Nie Huaisang gasped softly, having to squeeze his own cock for a small bit of relief.
"A-Ning, I wanna..." Nie Huaisang placed a hand on Wen Ning's shoulder, moving closer to press their cocks together. Wen Ning looked down carefully and saw just how small NIe Huaisang's cock was compared to his. He gulped as his mouth suddenly went dry, reaching to wrap a hand around the two lengths pressed together. "You- you can stroke at your own pace, there's no need to rush." The smaller man reassured, rocking against Wen Ning's cock with his own.
Wen Ning slid his hand down, stroking slowly and carefully as if to test out the waters. His hips instinctively moved, meeting Nie Huaisang's downward thrusts with his upward ones and slowly falling into a rhythm of their own. The sensation of having their cocks slide against each other was deliciously maddening, drawing out soft moans and gasps from their lips with each grind. It wasn't long before Wen Ning started to stroke their cocks faster, rubbing his dripping tip against Nie Huaisang's.
Nie Huaisang's face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and shy pleasure coloring his cheeks. The sight of his slender cock pressed against Wen Ning's thick one sending a thrill of excitement through him. The feeling of his lover's much larger cock next to his own was intensely arousing, making his heart race and breath come in short, sharp gasps. He reached up to cup Wen Ning's cheek, pulling him in a desperate kiss as he felt his pleasure building with each squeeze, each grind of their hips, and he knew he wouldn't last long if they kept this up.
He felt his body tense, a sharp cry of ecstasy tearing from his throat as he felt hid climax approaching with breathtaking speed. He clung to Wen Ning as his hips jerk up erratically, the first wave of his orgasm crashing over him. His cock pulsed and throbbed in Wen Ning's grip, release coating the Fierce Corpse's hand and their pressed lengths. As he rode out the intense waves of his climax, he slumped down and buried his face against his lover's shoulder, not noticing the fact that the other man hadn't reached his peak yet.
"Hm..." Wen Ning hummed, his still-hard cock twitching against Nie Huaisang's, practically begging for release. "Are you alright?" He asked, caressing the smaller man's waist affectionately.
"Yeah." Nie Huaisang's gaze lowered down to Wen Ning's cock, "Although, it seems like you need some more help for that."