I Am The Yiling Patriarch (Mo Dao Zu Shi AU)

Fire

It was difficult for Jiang Cheng to explain that his brother was coming to shadow him for future reference. Wei Wuxian however, was amused beyond compare.

"Tie your hair up, please. And cover your tats. Don't put on your chains either and take off the choker. The piercing too. At least take off one of your earrings," Jiang Cheng was scolding, pulling at Wei Ying's sleeves to cover up his body art.

"How do you expect me to hide this?" Wei Ying asked, holding up his knuckles for just below them, he had sewn a skeleton key under his skin. Body modifications. He had implanted it there to show off his veiny hands and arms. Jiang Cheng glared at him.

"Please don't tell anyone we're related. I still can't believe you did that."

"It's sexy."

"It's gross," Jiang Cheng spat. Just thinking about how he had had his skin cut open to place an object in for aesthetics was getting under his own skin. Goose flesh ran up and down his legs and arms. He never understood Wei Ying's phases, and unfortunately, it wasn't one. He stayed that way even into adulthood.

Wei Ying had disregarded everything his adoptive brother had said, getting a strange look from the security guard as he was given a pass. He had sported a black and red horizontal knitted shirt that came to his knees, a black tank top underneath where his tattoos were still visible through the crosshatch. He wore more "proper" jeans that which had zippers running up the shins and calves and suspenders that he let swing by his waist. His feet adorned black martins with a red pentagon garnet across them.

Jiang Cheng wore a contrast t-shirt, one side black and the other purple, a drawing patch denim coat, and black harem cargo pants with expensive sneakers. His right ear had one authentic amethyst crystal. He looked like a magazine had spit him up and yet Wei Ying, who wasn't even trying, appeared surreal and elegant even, beside him.

"What number did you get?" Jiang Cheng asked, referring to his audition number, looking over his shoulder but his brother had already stuffed it carelessly in his pocket. Jiang Cheng yanked off Wei Ying's earphone and repeated himself.

"I got 67. Who knew so many people would audition, like are you serious? Let's hit lunch and come back. I can't believe I missed band for this," Wei Ying yawned, a green spearmint gum visible on his tongue.

"No, stay in there and wait. You don't want them to call out your number and you're not even here."

"Great plan. You stay here and I'll grab us both sandwiches," Wei Ying suggested just as his stomach growled. Jiang Cheng kept a hold on him to keep him from leaving, a glare in his almond eyes.

"Go practice before you make a fool out of yourself. Everyone is freaking out, don't act so casual! It would be an honor if brother Xichen took you in," the purple one barked. Wei Ying rolled his eyes, but agreed, entering one of the audition practice rooms so Jiang Cheng could go attend to his chore practice. After all, the Lan Xichen wasn't going to attend to the audition rooms. He had his own things to worry about.

Far away from people as possible, Wei Ying was thinking, as he went in search of a room farthest from civilization, it seemed. He walked towards room 107, the last room. Entering, he mindlessly left the door creaked open, standing before the mirror. It took him a little while before he actually took about a routine, because he had had nothing in mind and bothered more with how his hair looked. He loved the looks everyone had given him. His hair was so long "for a man" and his clothing was "outdated."

Bobbing to his metal tracks, he finally decided to be serious and tapped Lan Xichen's name on his ipod before the song rolled into audio. Instantly, the EDM came through, the catchy beats and the tease of the instrumentals before Lan Xichen's elegant voice manifested. He had whispered something, entrancing Wuxian as the beats emerged stronger, creating an opening, until it eventually dropped and the chorus embedded into his mind. The electro beats played with him, swirling him around, throwing him into the air and back as Xichen's voice pushed him to and fro, whispering into one ear and then the other.

New York, Paris, London.

I'll be there. I'll be there

Like a Fire

I'll be there, I'll be there

Call me crazy

I'll be there, I'll be there

Like a rumor

Wei Ying snickered. He must've admitted that he had a soft spot when it came to Lan Xichen, the only person ever to change the genre of his music taste. He loved listening to the man, but he did it in secret less anyone knew.

Like a fire, huh? Wei Ying thought, as he restarted the song. He got into his own formation, swinging his hair in a circle before he started his own choreography. Wei Ying loved to dance, but not in the way that Jiang did. Jiang Cheng was very geometric about his formations and blend. Wei Ying was something else entirely, breaking the foundation and rules of dance, almost obscene in his routine, the disposition distraught, his movements oversaturated with flavor.

Just then, Lan Xichen had barely escaped his manager, or rather his uncle's scolding about who to accept in the backup crew, scolding about how he was much too lenient with them, when he noticed movement in one of the practice rooms. Usually, the rooms back here were never used. The audition participates always liked to stay in the rooms in the front incase a "celebrity" would walk by and notice them. Instant fame, they called it. None of them knew that the back rooms were actually close to the staff, hence, this. Xichen stuck his head into the room invasively, muttering a quiet apology as he watched a young man's routine. It was nothing like he had ever seemed. The man did not move in short bursts and pumps the way that he expected, for the rhythm encouraged them to. Most of Xichen's dances were like that after all. Instead, this young man swayed and swung the way a flower would dance in a breeze, elegant and surreal. It was organic.

With his long hair and red strands flashing, it was almost spooky to see such a routine, almost like a dance to summon the dead. With the young man came so close to the floor that Xichen almost thought he had fallen, Xichen watched as he rose again like the dead, not using his hands at all, spinning in a frantic circle before his leg came above his head in a full circle.

He's...he's like a fire, Xichen thought, a smile manifesting on his face. Like a rumor on the lips, he never dies.

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