ARCHIVE OF DIXING | English 镇魂 Guardian Fanworks Directory

"Now can we break in the new bed?" Zhao Yunlan asks plaintively once he's managed to kick everyone out. He's definitely demoting whoever decided to throw them a housewarming party.

"How is this even possible?" Zhao Yunlan groans. His voice sounds almost delirious, but then, he'd be more concerned if it didn't given that he's just come for the fourth time in less than an hour.

Not fair, Xiao Wei.

When Zhao Yunlan drops to his knees right in the middle of the dark alleyway, Shen Wei doesn't stop him. His own body frozen, as Zhao Yunlan's hands slide down the fabric of his trousers, too hot even through the thick material. Zhao Yunlan looks up at him, his mouth already so red and parted, his tongue darting to wet them, before he presses those beautiful lips to his crotch and mouths at it.
Shen Wei keens.

Or

Zhao Yunlan has an oral fixation and a plan.

There are hands under Shen Wei's shirt and up his thighs, cupping the back of his neck, gently removing his glasses— He wants them to continue, his eyes fluttering closed and his body arching up, embarrassingly eager even before the soft touches become more defined, but there is a dizzying weightlessness to all of it that makes him sit up.

"Yunlan?" he says, and the hands stop.

"I'm here, Xiao Wei," Zhao Yunlan kisses Shen Wei's temple, the glasses still in his hand. "Not having fun?"

Chu Shuzhi catches Guo Changcheng when he falls off a ladder. Feelings ensue.

The wet heat of Zhao Yunlan around him never failed to shock him, and this time was no exception either. Shen Wei was pretty sure Zhao Yunlan did this on purpose, liked to startle Shen Wei, liked to feel the moment when Shen Wei scrambled for control he was never able to find with Zhao Yunlan, not even on his best days. By now, Zhao Yunlan knew everything about his body, and knew how to play him, like he was merely an instrument built for Zhao Yunlan’s use alone, the world’s finest performer in the art of teasing Shen Wei to madness.

Zhao Yunlan takes Shen Wei on honeymoon.

Shen Wei liked the color green. It came in many different shades and blanketed him and his cottage in a vibrant mirage that he would never tire of seeing day after day. He knew the parrot green of the plants he added to his stews, the forest green of the ones he used to make medications, and the olive green he knew to avoid in the poisonous stems. 

It was this discernment of green that led him to realize there were discordant tones in the plants by the river. They had congealed splotches of dark red on them, and seemed to be emitting a strange, pungent odor. Shen Wei took out his dagger and walked slowly towards the plants, preparing to see a large animal of some sort. 

What he saw instead was a man.

Or: Shen Wei finds an injured man by his home and decides to take him in, not being able to fortell all the differences it will bring into his life.

What if things didn't quite go the way it originally did? What if Shen Wei wasn't as alone as he thought he was?

Shen Wei had lived for over 10,000 years: searching, waiting, learning, and keeping the peace. Throughout that time he lost himself a little bit and was just going through the motions as the Envoy and dedicating his time as a Professor to his students. Especially the one Dixing student he had saved that now insisted Shen Wei was a savior to them all. Every thing was fine until he came across a corpse, a student hanging from a cord, and a familiar face in a window.

A re-write of Guardian with Shen Wei whump and Zhao Yunlan paying closer attention and stubbornly insisting on taking care of Shen Wei. Also a new take on the Hallows, what if they got annoyed at the unsuccessful time loops and decided to help out a bit by giving Shen Wei premonitions? What of all those close calls SID had were only close calls because Shen Wei knew they were going to happen before it actually occurred?

**Author's Note** Chapters 1-5 were rewritten and updated, published with Chapter 6 on 4/30/2022.

Zhao Yunlan experiences a bout of self-doubt (or does he?)

Guo Changcheng is sluggish in the morning.

“Shen-laoshi really knows how to play you like a piano,” says Da Qing, lying in Zhao Yunlan’s lap and pawing absently at the line of yarn as it’s tugged and twined around the needles.

“You’re so full of shit,” replies Zhao Yunlan. The cat snorts, a surprisingly human sound.

“Am I? Look at him – attended one meeting and immediately pinpointed your failing. And took steps to correct it, to your benefit. You’d never even consider taking up something so ridiculous otherwise – but if Shen-laoshi gave it to you? You’d do exactly what you’re doing, treasuring it.”

Zhao Yunlan looks down at his work. It’s just a long, rectangular strip of stitches, more regular in size and tension near the needles than at the start. “I’m not treasuring anything. It’s just convenient.”

If Heipaoshi would not outright ask for a seat at the table, then by god, Zhao Yunlan was going to pull the fucking chair out himself. There was only the matter of paws and not apposable thumbs standing in his way. But then, he’d never of made Chief of the SID if he wasn’t adaptable.

"How come you never do the laundry?" Ye Zun asks, frustration palpable in the way the freshly dried and folded clothes float down to form a pile.