Mdzs Oneshots

mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?

Beyond the glass
Beyond the books
There's something that class
Cannot afford to hook

Darkness abounds
Silence whispers, prevail
They chase like hounds
Following fragments of twisted fairy tales

Where one had been,
There would soon be two
A perfect pairing, under false sin
One present, the only question, is who?

He stared into the mirror, haunted by the face that stared back at him. It hadn't been that long since he'd taken up the mantle of Yiling Laozu, yet Wangji couldn't help but notice his changes. The planes on his face were harsh. Brasher, somehow, as if someone had taken a chalk brush and swiped it across his face. The smile on his face had long since faded, but Lan Zhan could still spy a trace of it circling his red lips, that somehow managed to make his face look paler, especially in moonlight. His grey robes hung off him loosely, almost as if they were suddenly two sizes too big, though Wangji could have sworn they'd fitted him perfectly just a month ago. Still, he had to admit the colour suited him better than the royal purple of the Jiang Sect did. Somehow it always looked too garish on him, and Wangji hadn't failed to notice Wei Ying tugging on the robes, shifting uncomfortably in them, unlike how at ease he seemed in grey and crimson robes.

Now, the robe seemed more of an accessory than anything else, a way to cover up the vacancy in his eyes. For a moment, Wangji envisioned the trauma he'd gotten through clinging to him like crystals glittering in the moonlight, an echo of the vacant spots in his eyes, which seemed to roll past him, glossing past him.

Perhaps that was the most terrifying of all. Even if Lan Zhan didn't dare to admit it to himself, he was terrified. Not of Wei Ying, or what he'd become, but for him. The emptiness in his eyes, the wariness in his smile. He could feel the other boy receding, and he hated it. It was harder to put it into words than anything else, but he could see Wei Ying stow away the little parts of him, bit by bit. Wangji didn't miss the way he lowered his head immediately before he entered a room, before raising it slightly. The way his shoulder sagged. The way he plastered false smiles over his face like he owed the world a big debt. Like he wronged the world, even though Wangji knew all he'd ever done was to protect.

Never to destroy.

But the Sect Leaders refused to understand that, refused to acknowledge it. They'd put him on a pedestal once, to adore and admire. But once he went against their rules, went against whatever story they raised, they still put him on a pedestal.

This time to hurt him.

Even Xiong-Zhang. Wangji couldn't help but remember just a few days prior.

Slowly, Wangji lifted his fingers up to touch the glass, as if he'd somehow be able to reach the boy beyond the mirror. It was a foolish hope, he knew. But hope was audacity anyway. And Wei Ying gave him that, even if he was only a shell of the boy he remembered.

There wasn't any other way to put it, just like there was no other way to put the beating in his heart into words. He hadn't realised at first, as foolish as he had been, but he guessed some part of him always knew.

She'd told him, after all.

The one you see in the mirror will be the most genuine desire you hold.

No one else.

At first, he found it strange she'd used the words "no one else" instead of "nothing else", but it made sense now.

"Hold him close, young man." A wizened smile crossed her face, setting her dark, knowing eyes alight.