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“What on earth do you want?” Jin Ling demands, that night in the forest. He’s just woken up from being knocked unconscious by the very man whose life he saved, and he has seldom been more angry. “Let me tell you-“
Suddenly, Senior Mo lets out an ear-piercing scream, covering his face as though ready to protect himself from an attack while curling in on himself, shouting, “Hanguang-jun, I was wrong! Hanguang-jun, I can explain!”
Jin Ling is already running away, but later, he will think that Senior Mo – Wei Wuxian – sounded exactly as terrified as he does when Fairy is near.
***
Jin Ling doesn’t need Wei Wuxian to be an uncle to him. He already has one uncle, who threatens to break his legs but who also brings him lotus seeds and bounced him on his knee when he was little, and he recently found out that his other uncle was a dangerous sociopath all along. That’s basically the two ends of the spectrum, which means that Jin Ling is all set in the uncle-department.
It does not mean he wants Wei Wuxian out of his life forever.
This realisation alone took him the entire year that Wei Wuxian was away, travelling the realm with his stupid donkey and his ugly flute and not a single letter to anyone – or if people have been getting letters, Jin Ling was not one of them. Wei Wuxian travelled and Jin Ling sulked, whenever he found the time in between all the sect business that had now been dumped on his shoulders. Those were the busiest, most stressful twelve months of his life, but he likes to think that by the end of it, he came out stronger. More mature, too. Definitely ready to grow a beard, as soon as his face gets the message.
And, also, ready to spend some time with the man who is not his uncle, but who might become something else. Not a mentor, because that’s ridiculous, but maybe like a distant cousin or something. The kind you invite to banquets and then spend the entire evening avoiding, but when you do accidentally walk past them, you have your two minutes of small talk and it’s nice. Jin Ling can see Wei Wuxian becoming that person for him.
That does not mean, however, that he’s going to invite him to Lanling, let alone Carp Tower, anytime soon.
It turns out that isn’t necessary, because Wei Wuxian invites himself. When Jin Ling wrote to the junior disciples of Gusu Lan Sect and invited them on a joint night hunt, he thought that a senior disciple might accompany them. He did not expect that senior disciple to be Wei Wuxian.
“You’re not even a Lan,” Jin Ling says accusingly as they walk through the forest. He’s taken the lead as the most high-ranking member of their party, and Wei Wuxian, as the lowest-ranking member, has immediately followed him. “Why would you do this? Who allowed you to do this?”
“If you scowl like this all the time your face will get stuck,” Wei Wuxian says pleasantly.
“It will not! Did you get permission to be here?”
“Permission?” Wei Wuxian repeats. He sounds genuinely puzzled. “Who would I ask for permission?”
“Zewu-jun,” Jin Ling points out. Then he remembers that Zewu-jun is still in seclusion, and he feels a rare pang of guilt. “Grandmaster Qiren,” he corrects himself. “Hanguang-jun. Literally any member of Gusu Lan, actually.”
He stops when Wei Wuxian holds up his hand, and behind him, the disciples from their combined sects all do the same. For a moment, there’s only silence. Then something that sounds like wind but not quite echoes through the trees, and Jin Ling draws his sword.
Wei Wuxian has taken out his flute, but he’s yet to start playing it. So far he hasn’t done anything except stand there, actually, a faraway look in his eyes like he’s listening to something only he can hear. Then he says, “Stay here until I come back. Don’t make a sound,” and goes off on his own.
Jin Ling waits two seconds, says, “Stay here until we come back,” to the other disciples, and runs after him.
“What are you doing?” he hisses, falling into step beside him. “You’re going to get killed like this.”
“Jin Ling, I believe I told you to stay behind.” Wei Wuxian’s voice is firm and chiding, and suddenly, Jin Ling is sick of it. He’s not much younger than Wei Wuxian was at the Sunshot Campaign, and he’s Sect Leader. It doesn’t seem fair that he should be treated like a child when no one expected Wei Wuxian to be, at his age.
“I’m coming with you,” he says.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t block his path, which Jin Ling takes as a win. “Your uncle would skin me alive if anything happened to you,” is all he says, but in that resigned tone that Jin Ling recognises as a clear sign that he will get what he wants.
“My uncle would skin me alive if I bowed down from a challenge,” he counters – and, after a beat, he adds quietly, “my uncle would skin me alive if anything happened to you, too.”
He would have missed Wei Wuxian’s flinch if he wasn’t actively looking out for it. “That’s not true,” Wei Wuxian says. Not like he’s arguing, more like he sees no point in having this conversation. Somehow, that’s worse.
Jin Ling doesn’t get the chance to say so, though. The strange whisper sounds again, stronger now, surrounding them like a fog. The night hunt has begun.
Dawn has started to set by the time they make their way to Carp Tower. One of the Lan disciples has a sprained wrist, and Jin Ling has a nasty scratch on his shoulder (“Your first battle wound,” Wei Wuxian had declared), but apart from that, they’re all fine.
Except Wei Wuxian, who has gotten poisoned.
“It’s really only a minor poisoning,” he says. The words are slightly muffled because he is, as of right now, half-draped over Jin Ling’s back after they’d all decided that going back on sword was best.
It would be a minor poisoning, Jin Ling thinks, if Wei Wuxian still had a golden core to balance it. But he doesn’t, so it isn’t.
“Senior Wei, do you want me to go back to Gusu and inform Hanguang-jun?” Jingyi yells over the wind. Wei Wuxian yelps and would have fallen of the sword if Jin Ling hadn’t caught him in time.
“Don’t scare me like that! And definitely do not go to Gusu.”
“But Hanguang-jun-“
“Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian says loudly, “does not need to know about this.” He’s sweating heavily, and Jin Ling’s robes are already soaked through at the back. He’ll have to burn them later.
Sizhui frowns. “He would want to know,” he says. Personally, Jin Ling couldn’t care less what Hanguang-jun wants or does not want, but he agrees with Sizhui – Hanguang-jun, he thinks, would definitely want to know if Wei Wuxian got poisoned.
“What gave you that idea?” Wei Wuxian asks, now slurring a little. It’s worrying and also a little gross. Jin Ling hopes he doesn’t throw up. “In fact, if we could all agree to not breathe a word of this ever again, that would be appreciated.”
“You’re impossible,” Jin Ling says.
“Are you angry with me?” Wei Wuxian asks. He’s still slurring, but not enough to hide his amusement. “Jin Ling, when you get to be as old as me, you will realise that anger is a useless emotion that serves absolutely no purpose.”
“So why don’t you want us to tell Hanguang-jun?” Jin Ling snaps, more irritated than anything else.
“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says blithely, “he’d get so angry.” And then he passes out. And then he really does fall off the sword.
***
It’s not easy, being Wei Wuxian’s brother. But despite all that happened later, all the pain and the grief and the never-ending anger, Jiang Cheng knows that for the first half of his life, he was pretty damn good at it. He let himself be talked into all sorts of hare-brained schemes, he kneeled with Wei Wuxian in punishment for too many hours to count, he helped him sneak out and helped him sneak back in after midnight, and for fifteen years, he made sure that no dog would ever come near them.
Jiang Cheng used to be a good brother. But he’s fallen out of habit, and after nearly two decades, it’s hard to just move on from all the resentment. Especially because he still doesn’t know if Wei Wuxian actually wants him to move on. Wei Wuxian is hard to read, these days, and it’s not like he often gives Jiang Cheng the chance to. The few times they’ve run into each other after that night in the temple, Wei Wuxian has taken to use that husband of his as some sort of physical shield to avoid eye contact. Jiang Cheng, pathetically glad about the enforced barrier, has never protested.
It’s not easy, being Wei Wuxian’s brother. And it’s not easy to let go off old habits. But when Jin Ling writes to him asking to send Yunmeng Jiang Sect’s best healer because his asshole brother has gotten himself poisoned, Jiang Cheng falls into a habit so old he’d forgotten it existed: He insists on accompanying the healer to Carp Tower, and spends the whole way there preparing to shout at his brother.
Except, when he arrives there, it turns out he needn’t have bothered.
Hanguang-jun got there first.
Hanguang-jun, Jiang Cheng is told, arrived an hour ago with Gusu Lan’s best healer. Surely, the Lan disciple with a death wish tells him innocently, since Sect Leader Jin also has his own healer attending to Wei-gongzi, there needn’t be three healers?
“Surely,” Jiang Cheng says to the disciple between gritted teeth.
So he sends his healer back home, because what else can he do? And after that is taken care of, he goes off in search of Wei Wuxian, only to be stopped by yet another Lan disciple, who is standing guard in front of the guest quarters and who is politely informing him that no, visitors are not currently permitted entry to Wei Wuxian’s room.
Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at the disciple. “Don’t I know you?”
The Lan disciple bows. “We met before, Sect Leader Jiang. This disciple doesn’t expect you to remember, though.”
Narrowing his eyes further, Jiang Cheng thinks about it. “Lan Sizhui?” he realises at last, and is rewarded with a short flash of surprise in the disciple’s eyes.
“That is correct, Sect Leader.”
“You’re friends with my nephew,” Jiang Cheng states more than asks. Lan Sizhui is more than that, and they both know it, but as far as Jiang Cheng is concerned, being friends with Jin Ling is his one redeeming quality right now. Barely. Still, Lan Sizhui nods.
“Seen him around recently?”
“I believe he showed Hanguang-jun to Senior Wei’s quarters. I do not know where he went after.”
Of course. Of course. “Are they both in there?” he demands, pointing at the door that Lan Sizhui is currently guarding. “Let me through.”
“I already told you that regretfully, no visitors are allowed at this t-“ Lan Sizhui pauses, his eyes briefly flickering to Zidian, which Jiang Cheng has uncurled from around his wrist.
Jiang Cheng barks, “Good thing that I’m not a visitor then, isn’t it? I’m his fucking family.”
Before he can do something he might regret later, like bodily shove a disciple of Gusu Lan aside to break into a room, the door opens. It is, of course, Hanguang-jun. Must’ve been alerted by the shouting, Jiang Cheng thinks bitterly. Lan Wangji always did claim to hate unnecessary noise – which didn’t stop him from marrying Jiang Cheng’s brother, who is quite possibly the loudest, most obnoxious person in the world.
“Jiang Wanyin,” Hanguang-jun says, without any inflection whatsoever. But, hell, Jiang Cheng might not be as good at reading him as Wei Wuxian is, but he can still tell that Jiang Wanyin is code for any number of insults that Hanguang-jun is too frigid to say out loud.
“I want to see Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng says and bares his teeth in what might be considered a smile, in a very loose definition of the term. “If His Excellency permits it.”
Hanguang-jun stares at him for what feels like a very long time. Eventually, he closes the door in Jiang Cheng’s face.
Jiang Cheng is going to fucking murder him.
“Sect Leader-“ Lan Sizhui starts, but the door has already opened again. Hanguang-jun holds it open for Jiang Cheng with about as much expression as a brick wall.
“You may come,” he says.
Jiang Cheng bristles and waltzes past him without another word, because every possible reply to that would get him kicked out immediately.
He finds Wei Wuxian in bed under a million blankets, looking exactly as miserable as one would expect. Jiang Cheng opens his mouth ready to start yelling, only to find that no sound will escape his throat.
“No noise,” Hanguang-jun says. “He has a concussion.”
“A concu- I thought he got poisoned!” Jiang Cheng says accusingly as soon as he can speak again.
“He did.”
Jiang Cheng waits, but no more information seems to be forthcoming, so he decides to do the sensible thing and ignore Hanguang-jun from now on – which turns out to be fairly easy, because Wei Wuxian chooses this moment to squint up at him and ask,
“Jiang Cheng, is that you? Everything is blurry.”
“It’s me,” Jiang Cheng says. He doesn’t say it any louder than he normally would, but apparently, it’s still enough to make Wei Wuxian wince. This entire situation is oddly reminiscent of the countless times Jiang Cheng found Wei Wuxian hungover. Of course, back then, Jiang Cheng was often just as hungover himself, so they suffered together.
“No noise,” Hanguang-jun repeats, and after a small pause, he adds, “If you make noise, you will be removed.”
Once again, Jiang Cheng is hit with a weird sense of déjà vu. They might as well be in Cloud Recesses now, ready to be punished by the Grandmaster because Lan Wangji caught them breaking the rules. Gods, and Wei Wuxian lives there now. How does he stand it?
“I’d like to see you try,” Jiang Cheng says sourly. Predictably, Hanguang-jun says nothing, because Wei Wuxian married the human equivalent of a bowl of congee.
He walks over to the bed and pokes Wei Wuxian in the shoulder. “Why are you concussed?”
“Oh, you know me,” Wei Wuxian mutters, his face buried in the blankets. “I have a very punchable face, and Hanguang-jun just gets so angry with me sometimes-“
“Wei Ying.”
“-joking, obviously,” he continues. “Lan Zhan, don’t look at me like that.”
Unless Wei Wuxian grew eyes in the back of his head or suddenly gained x-ray vision, there is absolutely no way for him to tell how Hanguang-jun is, or is not, looking at him, not while he’s seemingly attempting to smother himself with his pillow. And yet, Hanguang-jun, who surely must be aware of this as well, replies, “I will look elsewhere then.”
“You will? With your husband on his deathbed? How cruel of you, to treat him like that.”
“How cruel of my husband to be on his deathbed, then,” Hanguang-jun says, and readily takes Wei Wuxian’s hand when it’s held out to him.
Jiang Cheng can’t believe what’s happening here. Maybe he’s the one who got poisoned. Maybe he should poison himself, right this minute, just so he can stop seeing this.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says into the pillow, still holding Hanguang-jun’s hand, ugh, “is Jiang Cheng still here?”
“Not for much longer,” Jiang Cheng snaps. “First I’m going to throw up my breakfast, and then I’m going to see my nephew. Wei Wuxian, if you have a concussion then stop talking. And you-“ He points at Hanguang-jun, who looks at the outstretched finger with what maybe counts as mild distaste, “-stop indulging him.”
“Who’s indulging?” Wei Wuxian asks theatrically, now nuzzling Hanguang-jun’s palm because no one ever taught him manners. “It’s possible that no one has ever been as non-indulged as me. Not a coin to my name, a mediocre face at best, and currently dying. It’s no wonder Lan Zhan treats me this way.”
“I’m going,” Jiang Cheng says pointedly, and leaves the room before he can witness something horrifying, like Hanguang-jun attempting to flirt. He cannot believe that this is what he left Lotus Pier for – but then again, who is he kidding? There is no way he could have stayed.
***
Being a disciple of Gusu Lan isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. There’s sword fighting and archery and an endless supply of cool robes, and there’s the certain smug superiority that’s instilled in every disciple from a very young age. They’re the best, and they know they’re the best.
But there’s also approximately a million rules to follow, there’s doing handstands and copying lines until your fingers bleed, and resisting the urge to make faces at Grandmaster Lan behind his back.
Also, there’s the fact that sometimes, they have to deal with people Hanguang-jun pissed off recently.
It doesn’t happen often. But there is a certain pattern, and Jingyi knows it all by heart these days. He recognises the signs, even when he wasn’t there to see the altercation happen.
This, right here, he qualifies as a Category 3: Angry Sect Leader.
It’s a bit hard to take seriously though, because it’s Jin Ling.
“Does he always just go into people’s homes like this without invitation?” Jin Ling complains. They’re having breakfast together after Jingyi was released from his guard duties by Sizhui an hour ago or so, and Jingyi is currently trying to shove as many sweetened steamed buns as possible into his mouth. Experience has taught him that it’s impossible to know when the next disaster happens, and disasters rarely leave time for meals.
“Fumdimf,” Jingyi says, his mouth full of eggrolls.
“What?”
He swallows. “Sometimes. Depends on how much he respects them as a person.”
“Well,” Jingyi says with a haughty sniff, “I don’t care what his title is, he shouldn’t-“ He falls abruptly silent as footsteps sound outside the door. Jin Ling turns a horrified look on Jingyi, who shrugs.
“Can’t be Hanguang-jun,” he declares unconcernedly. “Senior Wei jokes that he’s like a cat. Hey, this tea is so good. Why don’t we have tea like this in Gusu?”
“Because Gusu sucks,” Jin Ling says. Reassured that Hanguang-jun is not in earshot, he continues, “Anyway, I don’t care what his title is, it’s just not polite. And I don’t know why he had to come, anyway. Wei Wuxian said not to tell him.”
“Yeah, but we did him a favour. If we hadn’t said anything and Hanguang-jun asked why we came home three days late, Senior Wei would have had to tell him anyway.”
For some reason, Jin Ling now seems faintly concerned. It doesn’t look right on his face. Scowling comes more natural to him. “He could have lied.”
Jingyi laughs. “Right, sure, he could have. But Senior Wei is a terrible liar, and Hanguang-jun would find out because he always finds out, and then they’d have one of their weird non-fights about it. I hate when they do that.”
“There’s no such thing as a non-fight. Either you fight or you don’t,” Jin Ling says with the confidence of someone who has spent most of his life around Sect Leader Jiang, the most confrontational person Jingyi has ever met.
“There is when these two are involved. Senior Wei lies about getting hurt, and Hanguang-jun gets mad about it but refuses to say so, and Senior Wei has an existential crisis about it and for a few days everyone is miserable. Senior Wei once said that he’d prefer if Hanguang-jun just punched him in the face to get it out of his system. What are you making that face for?” Jingyi asks, alarmed.
Just like that, Jin Ling is back to scowling. “What face? I’m not making any face. Did Wei Wuxian really say that?”
“Mh?” Jingyi asks, briefly distracted by a servant bringing them more dumplings. “Oh yeah, he did. Are you eating these? Can I eat them? You don’t look hungry.”
“Go ahead,” Jin Ling says and stands up, no longer paying attention to him. “I have to go.”
***
Jin Ling spent several months of his first year as sect leader trying to figure out what the master key was. He felt sure that there must be some sort of code, something that would give him all the answers and that everyone but him was already aware of.
It took until the disaster with the mountain devil who no one realised could trisect itself, which was the reason it was able to attack in three places at once, for Jin Ling to have an epiphany: Not a single adult, but especially not a single sect leader, knows what they’re doing.
That had been the third most important realisation of his life, right after understanding that one uncle was an insane mass murderer and the other uncle was, well, at least not insane. Ever since he understood this, he’s been able to relax a bit. The job is still hard, but there are more and more days that he thinks he will manage it all.
Regretfully, with this newfound maturity comes an uncomfortable conscience that he really could have done without. And said conscience is, as of right now, telling him that something needs to be done.
Ugh.
He waits for a bit. There’s no need to rush things, not with something like this. So he waits the entire three days that Wei Wuxian spends at Carp Tower (mostly hallucinating and vomiting and, most of all, sweating, which is gross and exactly why Jin Ling usually tries to stay away from sick people). He waits, and he watches, and he investigates.
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Ouyang Zizhen asks. “Wait, is that why you wrote to my dad telling him my ‘presence’ was ‘required immediately’? I’m fairly certain he thinks you’ll behead me. Or court me.”
“Can you be serious,” Jin Ling hisses.
“I can’t believe I spent an entire night travelling as fast as possible just to spy on Hanguang-jun,” Ouyang Zizhen says mournfully, like Baling isn’t a complete dump that everyone would be happy to get out of.
“We’re not spying,” Jin Ling says, even though they are, in fact, spying. “We’re just making sure that everything is alright.”
“By hiding in the bushes outside his window?” Ouyang Zizhen asks sceptically.
“Will you keep your voice down!”
“I hate you,” Ouyang Zizhen tells him, but quietly. Jin Ling suspects this is less because his advice is being heeded, and more because Ouyang Zizhen is scared of getting discovered by Hanguang-jun. Which is exactly why they need to be here!
It’s a warm day in mid-summer, so the window is open. For the longest time nothing happens, and Jin Ling busies himself watching a fat ladybird balance on a leaf. Next to him, Ouyang Zizhen falls asleep.
Then, suddenly, finally, noise. A bit of shuffling followed by voices. Jin Ling sits up, throws a handful of dirt at Ouyang Zizhen to wake him up, and strains his ears to hear what’s going on.
“You’re awake,” comes Hanguang-jun’s voice through the window, barely audible.
Wei Wuxian’s own voice, when he speaks, is much louder, which figures. “Were you watching me sleep?” He sounds delighted about it. “Lan Zhan, did no one ever tell you how rude that is?”
“I played Song of Healing for you earlier.”
“You know that doesn’t work on me anymore,” Wei Wuxian says, not like he’s particularly sad about it, but not not sad about it either. Jin Ling sees Ouyang Zizhen frowning from the corner of his eye, but ignores it. The fewer people know that Wei Wuxian lost his golden core, the better.
“I like to play,” Hanguang-jun says, so quietly that Jin Ling almost misses it. “Like to play for Wei Ying.”
“I can’t believe I slept through a concert from Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian laments. “Sleep, sleep, all this body has been doing recently is sleep. I can sleep when I’m dead.”
“You got poisoned. And concussed.”
“I did, didn’t I? Gods. I can’t believe I got poisoned. And all because you let me fight a giant soul-snatching serpent by myself!”
“You wanted to go alone,” Hanguang-jun says. “You were very insistent.”
Jin Ling’s breathing feels very loud to him, but probably they’d dismiss it as a summer breeze. And he can’t leave now, not when an otherwise nausea-inducing conversation has just turned interesting.
“Was I?” Wei Wuxian asks with an awkward laugh. “Aha, I think you must not remember correctly.”
“My memory,” Hanguang-jun says, a slight emphasis on the first word, “is fine.”
“So vicious! So merciless! No regards at all for a dying man.”
Ouyang Zizhen rolls his eyes, the only reasonable response to Wei Wuxian, and moves to get up, mouthing, Let’s go. Jin Ling shifts; probably, he thinks, Ouyang Zizhen is right, and he should admit defeat. Who cares why Wei Wuxian wanted to go night hunting without Lan Wangji? Wei Wuxian is an adult and can take care of himself, and-
“The locked room,” Hanguang-jun says, cutting through Wei Wuxian’s ramblings. “Still an option.”
Locked what, Jin Ling thinks, and on the other side of the wall, Wei Wuxian says, “No! Please, Hanguang-jun, I’ll behave! I’ll be quiet and demure and kiss the hem of your robes whenever you want me to.”
Jin Ling doesn’t catch Hanguang-jun’s reply as he allows himself to finally be dragged away by Ouyang Zizhen. But he doesn’t need to. He thinks, busted.
***
Jiang Cheng has been back in Lotus Pier for exactly twenty-three hours when his good-for-nothing nephew shows up, like he has no sect to run, like Jiang Cheng has no sect to run, like Jiang Cheng is spending all his days just waiting around for someone to visit him.
“You always complain I should visit more often,” Jin Ling says accusingly. “Now I visit, and you’re still complaining!”
Jiang Cheng considers telling him that this his right as uncle and that when Jin Ling has nieces and nephews of his own, he’ll understand – and then he remembers that Jin Ling won’t have those, because his parents never got the chance to make Jin Ling anything but an only child who’s spoilt rotten.
“Don’t talk back,” he says instead. “And straighten your robes! You left Carp Tower like this? What will people think?”
“There’s nothing wrong with my robes!” Jin Ling says, and tries to straighten them anyway.
He gets riled up so easily, Jiang Cheng thinks, a little regretfully. It’s not Jin Ling’s fault. He takes after his uncle, and what would Jiang Cheng have been without his jiejie? Without Wei Wuxian?
“Uncle!” Jin Ling snaps, in that annoyed tone that implies it’s not the first time he’s said it.
“Stand up straight,” Jiang Cheng says, because an apology would just embarrass them both. “What do you want? And don’t pretend you just wanted to see me, either. You saw me plenty just yesterday!”
“Why are you so- ugh,” Jin Ling says with the combined frustration of all 17-year-olds who have ever been forced to talk to their relatives. “Whatever. It’s about Wei Wuxian.”
That, at last, catches Jiang Cheng’s attention. While it’s been 23 hours that he left Carp Tower, it’s been almost three days since he saw Wei Wuxian. He’d arrived in Lanling solely to check on his idiot brother and, when finding him not yet diseased but definitely unwell, hadn’t been able to bring himself to leave. But Jiang Cheng has always been conflicted down to his bones, and the same impulse that refused to let him return to Lotus Pier also refused to actually visit Wei Wuxian again. So he spent two more days roaming the halls of Carp Tower, yelling at people and scolding his nephew, and when he heard that Wei Wuxian was almost well enough to travel, he left.
Now, he wonders if he should have stayed.
“What’s he done now?” he asks, harsher than he means to, not as harsh as he wants.
“Nothing! He’s done nothing! Why do you assume it’s his fault?”
Jiang Cheng blinks. Jin Ling usually gets angry at everything from very valid criticisms about his sword style over amiable conversations about sect business right to today’s weather. That’s normal and healthy for a growing boy, and Jiang Cheng supports him. It’s just that his nephew doesn’t usually direct his anger at criticism about Wei Wuxian.
“Tell me what happened,” he demands. He’s expecting some sort of rant – perhaps Wei Wuxian managed to get poisoned for the second time in less than a week. Perhaps one of the disciples made an unkind comment about Jin Ling’s family ties, which would explain this odd defensiveness.
He does not expect Jin Ling to look away and swallow. “Uncle,” he says anxiously, “are Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian married?”
“From what I’ve heard,” Jiang Cheng says stiffly. “It’s what they call it, anyway. But who really knows with these two?” What he really means is, he assumes that there’s been a wedding but if there has been, Jiang Cheng had not been invited.
There’s no way he will ever say these words out loud.
“Uncle,” Jin Ling says again, still looking shifty as hell, “would you help Wei Wuxian get a divorce?”
What.
“What,” Jiang Cheng says.
“Don’t shout at me!” Jin Ling shouts at him. “Hear me out. I know he’s, like, shamed our family and disgraced the cultivation world and deserves to be burned alive a thousand times over for his crimes-“ Is he quoting this from memory, Jiang Cheng wonders half-hysterically, “-but if you think about it, a divorce can hardly bring more shame to us. Please, Uncle!”
Jin Ling bows. Jiang Cheng stares at him. And stares at him. And stares at him.
“I think,” he says slowly, when his mind is no longer reeling, “you’d better tell me what’s brought this on.”
***
So, here’s the thing. The thing is that Jin Ling isn’t a complete moron. He can read between the lines when he needs to. And he can definitely read the lines themselves, perfectly spelled out to him.
Right now, the lines say, THERE IS SOMETHING GOING ON WITH WEI WUXIAN AND HANGUANG-JUN. In capital letters. Font size 40. They’re also blinking.
“There’s always something going on with those assholes,” Uncle said to him earlier, but that’s because he didn’t understand yet. That’s alright. Not everyone can have the mind of an investigator.
“Not everyone can have the mind of an investigator,” Jin Ling told Jiang Cheng, hiding under the table to avoid getting hit, and when he came back out, he told his uncle everything – especially why he thinks that Wei Wuxian, too, tends to hide under tables to avoid getting hit.
It just makes sense. Doesn’t it? All the clues have pointed in one direction, and that direction is so simple to follow that even Wei Wuxian, with his notoriously bad sense of orientation, would manage.
“I think this is bullshit, and you’ve clearly lost your mind,” Jiang Cheng tells him now without preamble. “You dare bother me for this? What’s next? You tell me that Wen Ruohan is still alive and secretly managing a restaurant in Qinghe?”
“There’s actually some compelling theories for that,” Jin Ling says, “but you’re missing the point!”
“No, I got the point,” Uncle says. “The point is that I’ve raised an idiot. My ancestors weep for me.”
From what Jin Ling has heard of his grandmother, he’s sure that this is true. But Uncle is also still not understanding.
“So nothing about this seems suspicious to you? Nothing at all?”
“Look, A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng says, everything about his tone projecting calm and reasonable and adult now, which is insufferable, “you mean well. But Hanguang-jun is known for the fact that he gave up everything for Wei Wuxian thrice over, Gods know why. If there is a victim here, it’s not my brother.”
“You think Hanguang-jun is the one-“ Jin Ling starts, surprised and intrigued by this new possibility.
“Me,” Jiang Cheng snaps. “I’m the victim. For having to listen to this nonsense. Go back to Carp Tower, A-Ling. Pick up a hobby. Pick up a girl. Pick up a boy, as long as he’s not a Lan.”
It is clear to Jin Ling that he’s getting nowhere here. There’s no point in talking to his uncle when he’s worked himself up into a rant like this. That’s what Jin Ling gets for being the only sensible family member, he supposes.
He still has one last shot though, and he needs to aim it well. Wei Wuxian’s happiness depends on it.
“Will you talk to him?” he asks. “You don’t have to believe me. Talk to him, and if he says everything is fine, then I swear I won’t ever bring it up again.” Then, after a small, deliberate pause, he uses his most important weapon. “Please.”
His uncle chokes on his tea and then stares at him like he’s possessed. Which he might be. Possessed by the truth, at least.
“Please, Uncle,” he says again for good measure. “Talk to Wei Wuxian.”
“The first time in your whole life that you’ve asked for anything politely, and you’re using it for this,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “Fine. Fine! I will talk to him, if only so we can put this all behind us and never speak of it again.”
Mission accomplished, Jin Ling thinks, and beams so smugly that Jiang Cheng really does throw him out this time.
***
On some days it seems like Jiang Cheng’s entire life has been this: Chasing after his brother. Wei Wuxian has always been so easy to distract, always ready to have his attention diverted at any second, and then he’d just be gone, like he was never there at all. Jiang Cheng has spent countless hours of his childhood searching for Wei Wuxian and finding him in the most unlikely of places: the market, some fisherman’s boat, under jiejie’s bed, in the forest. Later, he’d find him in pubs and bars, and later still, he’d join him there.
Of course, he didn’t find him in the Burial Mounds. Wei Wuxian found himself, and a flute to go along with it, and when he came back everything had changed. Jiang Cheng thinks that maybe this is why he kept searching for him, even after seeing him fall off a cliff – someone who’d survived three months in the Burial Mounds without a golden core or a single soul to help him, someone like that, he’d thought, would survive anything.
And he did.
But Lan Wangji found him first. And Jiang Cheng has gotten better at forgiveness but this, he can never forgive.
And here he is now, two years since Wei Wuxian returned, eighteen since he died, decades since the very first time that he’d disappeared into the night and Jiang Cheng had to go find him.
Except this time, Wei Wuxian isn’t lost, and he certainly doesn’t need Jiang Cheng’s help in being found. That knowledge – that Jiang Cheng is no longer needed – makes something bitter churn in his gut. He’d much prefer to be back at Lotus Pier and give this whole matter not a single thought.
But he promised his nephew. So here he comes, chasing after Wei Wuxian one more time.
He reaches Cloud Recesses sometime during the late afternoon, together with his moron nephew who should have stayed home and who threw a tantrum of epic proportions when Jiang Cheng suggested this. And Jiang Cheng, who has wasted more years than he can count on giving in to Wei Wuxian’s ridiculous demands, had given in to Jin Ling and allowed him to come on the condition that he not say a word and let Jiang Cheng do all the talking.
Now, he shouts at the two disciples standing guard outside the gates of the Gusu Lan Residence until one of them promises kindly that she’ll go get Hanguang-jun for him as soon as possible.
“I don’t want to talk to Hanguang-jun,” Jiang Cheng tells her. “I want to talk to my brother.”
The disciple smiles pleasantly. “I will be sure to tell Hanguang-jun that you said so.”
He can feel Jin Ling next to him vibrating with smugness. I told you, Uncle! Didn’t I tell you? Do you see how suspicious this is?
Jiang Cheng ignores him and starts using Zidian to fell trees while he waits for the disciple to return. The remaining disciple watches him with a confused frown that is entirely unbecoming of a Gusu Lan Sect member. Clearly this boy doesn’t know that all his emotions should have been purged at birth.
He’s three trees down when he sees a flash of white robes in the corner of his eye. Hanguang-jun, as promised.
“Hanguang-jun,” Jiang Cheng bites out as politely as he can manage, which isn’t very. “Where’s my brother?”
“Wei Ying is busy.”
“I want to see him,” he says loudly. Both Lan disciples flinch simultaneously at the noise. Let them, he thinks. This will be a good lesson for them. If Gusu Lan interacted with outsiders more often, maybe they’d be a little less stuck-up and a little more like his nephew, who’s entirely unfazed by this outburst and in any case too busy glaring at Hanguang-jun.
“He is busy,” Hanguang-jun repeats, still calmly, but Jiang Cheng can see just the slightest furrow of his brow now. He’s getting irritated. Good.
“I didn’t realise the Yiling Patriarch needed a secretary to organise his appointments,” Jiang Cheng says sourly. “Bit of a let down from Chief Cultivator for you.”
Hanguang-jun doesn’t reply. He’s doing his best impression of a marble statue, staring at a point slightly to Jiang Cheng’s left and apparently no longer listening. He’s always been like this, Jiang Cheng remembers, stoic and unmoving and the exact opposite of Wei Wuxian in every way. It was utterly incomprehensible to him how they’d ever get along. It still is.
“Right then,” Jiang Cheng says when it becomes clear that Hanguang-jun will just as happily stand in silence for the foreseeable future. “Tell him I’m here and I want to speak to him. Actually no, just let me in so I can tell him myself. A-Ling, you stay here.”
He moves forward to push past Hanguang-jun, and is stopped by a sword. Bichen, unsheathed. Hanguang-jun, livid.
“You are not permitted to enter Cloud Recesses,” he says.
Jiang Cheng pulls out his own sword, and next to him, Jin Ling does the same. For a moment they all just look at each other, blades drawn, hyper-aware that they’re about to enter a conflict that none of them may be able to come back from.
Then, a voice.
“Lan Zhan!”
Jiang Cheng can see the change in Hanguang-jun, just barely. His stance gets even tenser, and just for a moment he closes his eyes, before sheathing Bichen and turning to Wei Wuxian, who’s approaching them all with a confused smile.
“Go back to bed,” Hanguang-jun tells Wei Wuxian once he’s joined them at the gates. Jin Ling grabs Jiang Cheng’s arm and hisses, “See?”
Jiang Cheng shakes himself free from the hold, puts his sword away now that there’s no reason left for him to have it out, and really looks at his brother.
He’s pale, dressed in nothing but white underrobes, and he looks exhausted. Still, his tone is sunny as ever when he says, “Jiang Cheng, Jin Ling, what are you doing here? Lan Zhan, have you invited them in?”
Hanguang-jun stays silent, presumably because lying is forbidden.
“Well,” Wei Wuxian says after a beat, “if this is official sect business, then you’ll probably want to talk to Lan Zhan in peace, so I’m just going to make myself scarce.”
Jiang Cheng can honestly say that he has never, not once, wanted to talk to Lan Wangji, in peace or otherwise. Also, from the way that Jin Ling throws a panicked look at him, he can tell that they’re both struck by the same vision: Wei Wuxian leaving, and both of them stuck in a horrible conversation with Hanguang-jun that none of them can break up without losing face on behalf of their sects now.
“Wait,” Jiang Cheng says, at the exact same time that Jin Ling says, “We came to invite you to a night hunt!”
Another beat. Wei Wuxian says, “You did?” He has no right to sound this sceptical, Jiang Cheng thinks – from what he’s heard this past week, Jin Ling is apparently inviting Wei Wuxian to night hunts all the time these days. Which is nothing to get petty and jealous over. Obviously.
“Yes,” Jin Ling says, lying slightly less confidently now in the face of confusion (Wei Wuxian) and silent fury (Hanguang-jun). “There’s rumours of an, um, an evil- Uncle, what was it?”
That little traitor, Jiang Cheng thinks. “A flesh-eating demon panda,” he says out loud, straight-faced.
“Right,” Jin Ling says, glaring at him. “A flesh-eating demon panda.”
“Very dangerous,” Jiang Cheng adds.
“Extremely,” Jin Ling says. “And there’ve been – I think we had reports of – Uncle, what did we have reports of?”
How is it possible to have raised such a terrible liar, Jiang Cheng wonders. It’s impossible for Jin Ling to be blood-related to Wei Wuxian, and yet, here they are now, with Jin Ling fumbling with his own fabricated story exactly the way Wei Wuxian used to.
Enough. It’s obvious that this is going nowhere until he takes the matter into his own hand, which is just typical. “Yunmeng Jiang received reports that the demon panda is immune to spiritual power,” he says, because he knows his brother, just like he knows exactly what to say to catch his interest. “Our best cultivators weren’t enough to subdue it. We need someone who can work around that.”
Wei Wuxian purses his lips in consideration. “I think I read something about this once,” he says, which almost makes Jiang Cheng snort. “Where is it?”
“Near Lotus Pier,” Jiang Cheng says, and then decides that if he’s doing this, he might as well do it properly. “You should come with us and check it out. And – your old room is still ready for you.”
Wei Wuxian’s head snaps up. “Jiang Cheng,” he says, staring at Jiang Cheng like he’s never seen him before. Jiang Cheng stares back, too stubborn to look away.
Hanguang-jun ruins the moment by saying, “Wei Ying cannot come. If Yunmeng Jiang needs assistance, I will come in his stead.”
Jiang Cheng will have bruises tomorrow from the way Jin Ling keeps grabbing his arm like this. He didn’t want to believe it. But-
“Ayio, Lan Zhan, don’t treat me like an invalid,” Wei Wuxian whines. “And all because I’m not as powerful as I used to be! Your husband is weak and fragile and can’t be trusted to defeat even one evil flesh-eating demon panda, is that what you think?”
“My husband,” Hanguang-jun says, cutting through Wei Wuxian’s protests and Jiang Cheng’s own mind shouting at him in alarm, “got injured less than a week ago. That’s what I think.”
“I’m fine,” Wei Wuxian says. “Never been healthier! I can undress right now and prove it to you if you like.”
Jiang Cheng is about to berate Wei Wuxian for his shamelessness on instinct, but stops himself when Hanguang-jun says, “Do not undress.”
Wei Wuxian laughs, like his husband hasn’t just shot him down in public, and drapes himself across Hanguang-jun’s back like a particularly fussy koala. It takes Hanguang-jun little effort to extricate himself from the hold and step neatly to the side in what is clearly a practiced movement. Wei Wuxian pouts and doesn’t try to touch him again, and all Jiang Cheng can think of throughout this little display is that his brother has always been free with his touches and affection, and to see him rebuked like this makes his heart hurt in a way he hadn’t thought it capable of anymore.
“It will only be a day or two! No longer than half a week, I’m sure. Seven days at most,” Wei Wuxian says, now keeping his distance. “You can accompany us and make sure there will be no more poisonings! We’ll be glad to have Hanguang-jun and his famous guqin on our side.”
“Um,” Jin Ling says.
“I heard it’s immune to core-channelling music, too,” Jiang Cheng says.
Hanguang-jun looks at them both like he’s considering manslaughter, and then he turns to Wei Wuxian, his tone regretful as he says, “I cannot come. I have duties here that I must attend to.”
Jiang Cheng considers pointing out that Lan Wangji seemingly had no problem abandoning those duties when it would have meant that Wei Wuxian would stay home, but keeps his mouth shut.
Jin Ling says, “Da-jiu, please.”
Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen in shock. We got him, Jiang Cheng thinks smugly, and allows himself a tiny smirk in Hanguang-jun’s direction. Jin Ling saw an opportunity and took it, and now there is nothing that will keep Wei Wuxian in the controlled environment of Cloud Recesses.
They’ve won this round. Now they just need to figure out the rest of it.
***
Truth be told, Jin Ling didn’t really have a plan going into this. He entertained vague fantasies of breaking Wei Wuxian out of Cloud Recesses, of challenging Hanguang-jun to a duel, of washing his hands of the matter and letting Jiang Cheng handle it all. But now that Wei Wuxian has come with them willingly (under false pretences), or rather, now that they’ve taken the first step of removing him from a toxic environment (under false pretences), the whole situation seems more manageable, somehow. For the first time, Jin Ling feels confident that they can deal with this. They will go to Lotus Pier as planned, they will admit that there is no night hunt, and they will try their very best to gently talk to Wei Wuxian about his relationship. Actually, probably Jin Ling will have to handle the talking, because his uncle wouldn’t know gentle if it punched him in the face.
He doesn’t love the idea of having this conversation, but it’s for Wei Wuxian’s own good. He’ll thank them later when this is all over. And Jin Ling won’t even have to duel anyone to accomplish it, which is both a relief and a small disappointment.
Their journey lasts three days, which is two more than it would usually – one because Wei Wuxian can’t ride the sword without their assistance, and another day because he keeps getting distracted. But Jiang Cheng appears used to it, and Jin Ling can’t find it in himself to be annoyed when Wei Wuxian wanders off for maybe the hundredth time during one of their breaks. This is probably the first time Wei Wuxian has been free to explore like this in ages, he reasons. Hanguang-jun doesn’t seem the type to let his husband just roam free.
On the third day, they arrive in Lotus Pier by nightfall. Jin Ling walks through the gates, intending to have a hot bath and a good night’s sleep before they can have The Conversation tomorrow, and it takes him a couple of seconds to realise that he’s alone.
When he turns, he sees that Uncle and Wei Wuxian have both stopped in front of the gates. They’re talking about something, too low for Jin Ling to make out, but he can see Wei Wuxian shaking his head once. Uncle says something else, Wei Wuxian looks away, and then suddenly, Jiang Cheng is physically shoving his brother through the gate, hitting him over the head repeatedly.
Jin Ling turns away and goes to his room. He doesn’t see either of his uncles until the next morning.
***
Jiang Cheng isn’t good with- with this. Any of this.
“Feelings?” Jin Ling asks.
“Shut up and eat your breakfast,” Jiang Cheng tells him. Jin Ling is right, though. Feelings tend to give Jiang Cheng hives. And feelings that concern his brother are especially bad, because everything is drenched into an all-encompassing sense of anger and guilt. Jiang Cheng knows this about himself, and he also knows that in a case like this one, he needs to suck it the hell up. So he went out early this morning, while everyone else was still asleep, and bought a book.
It’s called, 17 Easy Steps to Holding An Intervention. With helpful pictures. He then spent an hour or so speed-reading, underlining the most important passages and skipping others. He feels prepared. He feels ready. He’s about to have a talk with his resurrected brother about the abusive nature of his relationship, and it’s going to go great.
“Are you smiling?” Jin Ling asks sceptically. “It looks weird. You should stop.”
“I told you to eat your breakfast,” Jiang Cheng says, still smiling.
At last, Wei Wuxian wanders in, stretching idly before stopping right in front of Jiang Cheng, frowning. “Jiang Cheng, are you smiling?” he asks. “Looks weird.”
“You- shut up and sit down! What is it with this family?”
Wei Wuxian shuts up and sits down, but Jiang Cheng hasn’t missed the way he briefly froze at the mention of family, at being included in it. The guilt crashes over him like a wave. He suppresses it.
After breakfast, they go into one of the meeting rooms. It’s only when Wei Wuxian says, “So, I’ve been thinking more about what to do about this flesh-eating demon panda that you mentioned” that Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling remember, simultaneously, that Wei Wuxian is still under the wrong impression over what he’s doing here.
Jiang Cheng says awkwardly, “About that.” Step 1, be honest.
“Gods,” Jin Ling exclaims, putting all the diplomacy skills required of sect leaders to good use, “how stupid are you? There’s no demon panda!”
Wei Wuxian pauses. “No demon panda?” He looks ready to laugh, if only they’ll let him in on the joke.
Step 2, gently alert your loved one to the problem.
“We actually wanted to talk to you about Hanguang-jun,” Jiang Cheng says.
“Lan Zhan? Since when do you want me to talk about Lan Zhan? You always used to tell me not to bother you with all that.”
Jiang Cheng knows that Jin Ling will send him an accusing look a slit second before it actually happens, and it takes his entire willpower not to wince. Gods, he had said that, hadn’t he? Maybe if he hadn’t, Wei Wuxian would feel more comfortable speaking up now.
“Aha,” Wei Wuxian says, rubbing his nose knowingly, “I get it. You want me to invite him to this night hunt after all! There’s no need to be embarrassed about it, Jiang Cheng. Hanguang-jun will be happy to help!”
“We told you, there is no night hunt!” Jin Ling snaps. Wei Wuxian frowns at him like Jin Ling has said something very nonsensical.
Step 3, remind your loved one that they have a support system.
“If you ever want to- that is, if you think you can’t- you can, alright? I’m here,” Jiang Cheng manages. Across the table, Jin Ling facepalms.
“Jiang Cheng, are you well?” Wei Wuxian asks, peering closely at his face. “You look peaky.”
“I’m fine!”
“If you say so,” Wei Wuxian says, sounding doubtful about it.
Step 4, don’t tell them what to think. Help them see your side and arrive at the conclusion on their own.
“Da-jiu,” Jin Ling says, which, okay, will never not be weird, but it can’t be helped now. “Why were you so eager last week to go on the night hunt alone?”
“Mh?” Wei Wuxian asks, tapping his lips with his flute like he has to think about it. Suddenly, his face clears in what must be the memory coming back to him, only for him to grimace. “Oh! Ah, Jin Ling, I don’t think we need to talk about that.”
Jiang Cheng is struck by the abrupt realisation that Wei Wuxian can never be allowed to raise a child. Kids are like a dog with a bone, and Jin Ling is the worst of them all. If this were a test, then Wei Wuxian would be failing it. By far.
And besides, if Wei Wuxian says that they don’t need to talk about something, that’s almost always proof that they definitely need to talk about it.
“Was it because of Hanguang-jun?” Jin Ling asks bluntly.
Wei Wuxian flinches, and his smile doesn’t seem to reach his eyes as he says, “Aha, what gave you that idea?” He’s fiddling with his flute, a nervous habit that he must have acquired over the last couple of years.
Step 5, don’t corner them. If they’re not ready to talk about it, don’t push the matter.
Jiang Cheng can’t quite keep himself from being harsh, which is a direct violation of steps 9, 10 and 17. “Wei Wuxian! Answer the question!”
“Why are you asking me?” Wei Wuxian exclaims. “All these questions! I’m very worried about you both. Going around making up fake night hunts, asking me about Hanguang-jun – this is very concerning behaviour!”
Taking deep, slow breaths, Jiang Cheng forces himself to not commit fratricide. He managed to resist the urge once, after all. He can do it again. When he finally feels calm enough to not do anything he might regret, he says, “You don’t want to answer? Fine. But then you have to explain to this boy here why his uncle is allowing himself to just be, be pushed around like a weak maiden.”
It's not, perhaps, the most diplomatic thing he could have said. It also causes Wei Wuxian to look at him with wide, distressed eyes. He reaches across the table to take Jiang Cheng’s hand. “Jiang Cheng,” he says in a low voice, “if you need help, I’d be happy to-“
“Me?!” Jiang Cheng roars, and pulls his hand away. “Why would I need help? And who’s supposed to give it- you? You can’t even help yourself!”
Wei Wuxian has the audacity to look slightly hurt.
Re: Step 2, Step 4
“Da-jiu,” Jin Ling says, apparently choosing to move the conversation along before the fight can escalate, “Does Hanguang-jun ever do anything that you might not feel comfortable with?”
“All the time,” Wei Wuxian replies instantly. Finally, they’re getting somewhere, Jiang Cheng thinks. “I will say to him, Lan Zhan, it’s really not necessary for you to buy me wine and books and new robes all the time, it’s no trouble getting my own! And Lan Zhan will tell me he doesn’t mind, so I will say to him, Lan Zhan, people will talk! And Lan Zhan will say that we should let them, and I will-“ Wei Wuxian slants a look at Jin Ling, pauses, and finishes with, “do things. Sometimes. With him. Very proper and decent things that definitely don’t involve taking off your clothes.”
Jiang Cheng can feel a headache approaching. Between clenched teeth, he says, “And what, exactly, is uncomfortable about that?”
“Uncomfortable?” Wei Wuxian echoes. “Nothing! Who said anything about being uncomfortable?”
Step 6: Remind them that they are not alone in this problem. Others have had it before, more people will have it again.
Jiang Cheng decides to change tracks. After a brief hesitation, he decides to take Wei Wuxian’s hand again. “Mother and Father’s marriage wasn’t ideal,” he says, ignoring the way Wei Wuxian suddenly seems to freeze. “I always knew this, and I knew they took it out on us. On you.”
“Jiang Cheng-“
“What I’m saying is, I want you to know that not all relationships have to be like that. There should be mutual like, and respect, and-“ He’s rambling, and Wei Wuxian is still staring at him like he’s grown a second head. “And, that’s all I wanted to say.” No, it’s not. But if he has to express himself like this even a second longer, he might spontaneously combust, and what use would he be then?
Wei Wuxian looks at their still entwined hands, to Jiang Cheng’s face, and back to their hands. Finally, he uses his other hand to first pat Jiang Cheng’s shoulder and then his head, like he hasn’t done since they were eight. “It’s alright,” he says, another thing that he hasn’t done in years. “Don’t be sad.”
And that’s – that’s crazy, because if anything, Jiang Cheng should be the one comforting Wei Wuxian. But somehow, after all these years, Wei Wuxian still falls into the role of older brother as easily as if he’d never stepped out of it. And it helps.
He takes a deep breath, then another one. Wei Wuxian is here, in Lotus Pier, far away from Cloud Recesses and all the horror that entails, and if he just stays put, then all will be fine.
When he no longer feels like he might burst out of his skin, he shifts out of Wei Wuxian’s reach and finally says what he and Jin Ling should have said at the beginning of all this.
Step 12: Remind them that they don’t have to stay in a toxic environment any longer. Offer your help.
“A-Ling and I talked about it, and we’ve decided – Lotus Pier is still your home. If you want to move back, Yunmeng Jiang Sect will be happy to have you. And if you want to move somewhere else, we can help you with that, too. Anything you want.”
“Move?” Wei Wuxian repeats slowly. “Who’s moving?”
Step 16: Reassure them that sometimes, the best way is to move forward and leave behind the past. You’ll be there for them every step of the way.
Jin Ling says, more gently than Jiang Cheng has ever heard him sound in his life, “We know Hanguang-jun is Chief Cultivator, but he’s not all-powerful. If Lanling Jin and Yunmeng Jiang support your divorce, then you’ve got nothing to worry about, and you never have to see him again.”
Wei Wuxian, who has apparently lost his ability to form thoughts of his own, says, “Divorce?”
Which is, of course, exactly when Hanguang-jun walks in.
Jiang Cheng really should have finished the stupid book.
***
Jin Ling is gonna die. He’s been in life-threatening situations before, but when Hanguang-jun walks in, he knows that this is the face of Death himself. A really slow, painful death. The kind that goes on for days.
While Jin Ling is contemplating his own mortality, Wei Wuxian stands up and kisses Death on the cheek. “Lan Zhan! What are you doing here? Did you miss me too much to stay away?”
“Mn,” Hanguang-jun says, accepting the kiss without breaking eye contact with Jin Ling. Jin Ling starts sweating. Was it always this hot in here?
“Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng growls. At some point, without Jin Ling noticing, he’s risen from his seat as well. “How dare you?”
Wei Wuxian must be suffering some ancient china version of Stockholm Syndrome, because he seems glued to Hanguang-jun’s side. “Jiang Cheng, calm yourself,” he says sharply. “Apologise.”
It’s amazing how optimistic Wei Wuxian is, Jin Ling thinks distantly, if he truly expects his brother to apologise for anything. Optimistic, or delusional. Possibly both.
Jiang Cheng says, “No.” He sounds uncharacteristically composed, all things considered. All heads turn to him, except Hanguang-jun, who’s still looking at Jin Ling. Jin Ling stands up at last, and moves so that he’s partially hidden behind his uncle.
“Jiang Cheng! What is it with you today? Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng wants you to know that he’s sorry.”
“Jiang Cheng wants no such thing,” Jiang Cheng says sarcastically. “Jiang Cheng would like the esteemed Hanguang-jun to know that His Excellency is not permitted to enter Lotus Pier.” It is, all in all, a rather decent imitation of Hanguang-jun. Jin Ling snorts from behind the safety of Jiang Cheng’s back.
Hanguang-jun says, “I will leave.” He pauses. “With Wei Ying.”
Barking out a short laugh, Jiang Cheng says, “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“Excuse me?” Hanguang-jun says, in a very low, dangerous voice. The effect is ruined somewhat by Wei Wuxian, who is holding his hand. It’s really weird.
“You’re not taking him back to Cloud Recesses,” Jiang Cheng snaps, Zidian crackling dangerously around his wrist. “Do you think you can just do whatever you wish with him? Do you think he has no sect behind him?”
Hanguang-jun turns his stony stare on Jiang Cheng. “He has Gusu Lan Sect behind him.”
“And what good has Gusu Lan Sect done for him so far? As far as I can tell, they haven’t done shit. Your precious sect is happy to hide on its mountain while their beloved Hanguang-jun mistreats his own husband!”
Silence. Then several things happen simultaneously: Lan Wangji steps away from Wei Wuxian in order to take one short, yet very threatening, step towards Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng uncurls Zidian, and Jin Ling steps in front of Wei Wuxian.
***
Shouts are ringing from behind the door by the time Jingyi gets back from his bathroom break. He can tell that Sizhui needs help and doesn’t know what to do, mostly because Sizhui says, “You have to help me, I don’t know what to do.” He also says, “Are those lotus seeds?” and, “I thought you were just going to the bathroom! Is that why you were gone for twenty minutes?” Jingyi graciously chooses to ignore this, because clearly there are bigger issues at hand.
“What happened?”
“So you know how we asked Hanguang-jun if he needs us to come inside with him and he told us that he can handle it?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t think he’s handling it,” Sizhui confesses. This, in itself, does not strike Jingyi as that odd. When Hanguang-jun announced he was going to Lotus Pier, all the junior disciples drew straws to determine who would have the misfortune of accompanying him. Jingyi lost. (Sizhui, of course, volunteered.)
It’s not that they don’t trust Hanguang-jun. Jingyi, personally, thinks that Hanguang-jun is the greatest cultivator of Gusu Lan, the entire cultivation world as it stands right now, and, possibly, ever. No one can wield the sword like him. No one can play guqin like him. No one can make mourning clothes look like an exciting new fashion choice. (Once, Jingyi wore mourning robes too, just to check if they would indeed give him a new sense of confidence and a glowing aura as Cultivating Fashion claimed in their autumn edition. Mostly they ended up giving him bruises once Grandmaster Lan saw him, but it was totally worth it.)
Hanguang-jun is an admirable cultivator. He’s just not great at not making Jiang Wanyin want to stab him repeatedly with his sword.
“Why would you think he’s not handling it?” Jingyi asks, as inside the room, the voices get louder. Someone who sounds like a very aggrieved Jin Ling yells, “What were we supposed to think? What about your suspicious concussion?”
Someone who sounds like a very irritated Senior Wei yells back, “I fell off my sword! You know I fell off my sword, because you were the one who let me fall!”
Jingyi and Sizhui exchange a look. “I thought we agreed to keep that a secret,” Sizhui says.
“Hanguang-jun is going to kill him,” Jingyi agrees grimly.
“What are we supposed to do? We can’t go in because we were told to wait outside and stand guard. But if we stay out here, someone is going to die.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jingyi says. In the same moment, Jiang Wanyin shouts, “If you take one more step towards my brother, you’re going to die, Lan Wangji!”
Jingyi winces. He tries to say something else, but his words get drowned out by Jin Ling’s outraged shrieking. “-and don’t get me started on the night hunt! You were trying to get away from Hanguang-jun and his fists!”
Jingyi and Sizhui exchange another look.
“I was trying to keep Hanguang-jun’s fists away from you!” Senior Wei shouts.
“Because you’d rather let yourself get hurt than allow your favourite nephew to suffer the same fate? Because you live in constant fear?”
“Because my favourite nephew stabbed me and my favourite husband is zero-point-two provocations away from exacting really unnecessary, if actually quite romantic, revenge!”
“This is amazing,” Jingyi says in awe. “I think this is the single greatest thing that’s ever happened to me in my life.”
Sizhui takes one of the lotus seeds that Jingyi offers him, but in such a way that makes it obvious that he’s judging Jingyi for having them.
“And the locked room thing!” Jin Ling’s voice sounds through the door, clear as day, like he wants the whole of Lotus Pier to know. “You were all, don’t put me in a locked room and throw away the key, I’ll do anything!”
“That was a sex thing,” Senior Wei shouts at him. This time, Sizhui is the one who winces. Jingyi on the other hand finds himself rather desensitised to it. Clearly Sizhui hasn’t been assigned many of the night shifts recently. “And now you made me say that out loud! Lan Zhan, please forgive me, please don’t- oh. Alright, I see what you mean.”
Everything about this is awesome. Jingyi never wants this conversation to end. He only wishes he had time to make a detailed transcript of it, then reread it until the day he dies.
Someone tugs his arm, distracting him from Jiang Wanyin threatening to chop Hanguang-jun into little pieces, and Jingyi looks at Sizhui with some dismay. Sizhui points and says, “Look!”
There is a man approaching. He’s not wearing sect colours, Yunmeng Jiang or otherwise, and instead of a sword, he’s carrying a stack of papers.
Sizhui politely tells him, “I’m very sorry, but the young masters are quite busy in there. Perhaps if you could come back another time?”
More muffled yelling, and the tell-tale sound of a sword being drawn. Jingyi bets on Hanguang-jun. Hanguang-jun can’t match the others in shouting, so naturally, this would be the next-best thing. He can’t believe he’s missing this because of some man who looks like a secretary.
The man says, “Sect Leader Jiang is expecting me.”
“Come back later,” Jingyi tells him rudely.
“-Lan Zhan, what are you doing? Put that away!” Senior Wei says in alarm, and Jingyi thinks, I knew it.
“Is that Wei-gongzi?” the man asks, not showing any indication of leaving any time soon. Reluctantly, Jingyi nods. “Then I believe my presence is required in there, after all.”
“Yeah? Why?” Jingyi demands.
The man holds up the stack of papers. “I prepared everything, like Sect Leader Jiang asked me to. I’m an attorney. All I need is one signature from Wei-gongzi, and the divorce will be completed.”
Jingyi puts one threatening hand on the hilt of his sword and hopes that he looks as cool and composed as Hanguang-jun. “You’d better step away and not let Hanguang-jun hear you say that.”
“Sect Leader Jiang warned me about this,” says the suicidal attorney.
Suddenly, the door opens. It’s Senior Wei, who appears to be dragging Hanguang-jun out of the room, to the loud protests of Jin Ling and Jiang Wanyin. He stops when he sees them. “Finally, some sensible ones! You can be the voices of reason. Who’s this?”
Sizhui seems to experience some trouble meeting Senior Wei’s eyes. “Apparently it’s your attorney, Senior Wei.”
“For your divorce,” Jingyi adds helpfully, and regrets it as soon as he’s met with Hanguang-jun’s withering stare. Abort mission, a thousand voices in his mind are screaming at him. They all sound like Sizhui.
Jiang Wanyin finally appears right behind him, closely followed by Jin Ling. Surprisingly, neither of them seem to be gravely injured. No one even has a black eye. Jingyi briefly considers saying that this will hold up great in court, and then doesn’t. He has no desire to die young.
“Consider your actions, Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Wanyin tells his brother. He reaches out to maybe do something like pat his brother’s shoulder, but abandons the motion when Hanguang-jun turns slightly in his direction. “You’re making a mistake.”
“Wei-gongzi,” the attorney starts, “the law is on your side, and-“
“Is it?” Senior Wei asks, ignoring the way the attorney starts making choked-off noises and pointing at his mouth. “That’s a relief to hear! Lan Zhan, isn’t it a relief? I bet you thought you’d never see the day! The law on the side of the Yiling Patriarch. This is a great day.”
“Such a great day,” Jingyi agrees fervently. Sizhui elbows him.
“Except!” Senior Wei continues, louder now, to speak over the attorney’s muffled protests. “Except, I fear that all of you have fallen prey to a common misconception about Hanguang-jun and I. People look at us, and they see a big, strong, handsome cultivator with eyes like actual moonshine and a voice like crystallised sunlight and-“
“Wei Ying.”
“Wei Wuxian!”
“-and then they look at his husband, and they think, where is his sword? What’s with the hair, what’s with the donkey? They wonder what could possibly be so great about him to keep the esteemed Hanguang-jun’s attention. I understand! And then they reach a conclusion. They’ve figured it out. They know that to keep Hanguang-jun’s interest is to be beaten. And since so many people know this without a doubt, since even Sect Leaders Jiang and Jin know this to be true, how could it be wrong?”
Senior Wei is, Jingyi notes, gripping his flute rather tightly, his knuckles white around it. And yet he’s perfectly calm when he says, “All this gossip, all these rumours. Everyone assumes, and no one asks. Why would they? If they asked, we might tell them the truth.”
“Wei Ying,” Hanguang-jun says, so quiet that Jingyi has to strain his ears to hear it. “Let’s go home.”
Senior Wei smiles at him, and, somehow, Hanguang-jun smiles back. It’s disgusting and cheesy and gross. Who could ever look at this shameless display of affection and think they’re anything but in love?
“Let’s go home,” Senior Wei agrees. He holds out his hand, and Hanguang-jun takes it. When they leave, no one tries to stop them.
***
ONE MONTH LATER
Has the climb up the mountain to Cloud Recesses always been this exhausting, or has Jiang Cheng gotten older? He’s not sure that he wants to hear the answer. But at least Jin Ling is struggling too, so that’s alright. Of course, this would all be no problem if they could have simply flown up to the gate by sword – and they would have, if Gusu Lan Sect hadn’t apparently decided to take some extra security measures since Jiang Cheng’s last visit here. Now there’s an additional barrier surrounding the entire mountain that you can only pass through on foot. Wei Wuxian could probably dismantle it, but then again, Jiang Cheng suspects that Wei Wuxian was the one to install it in the first place.
“And you went to school here, Uncle?” Jin Ling asks, wiping the sweat off his brow.
“For six months.”
“I’m glad I never had to,” Jin Ling says decidedly. Jiang Cheng understands where he gets it from – not only is Cloud Recesses on the very top of a faraway mountain, twenty miles away from anything even remotely fun, but also, thus far their climb has led them past at least six different Lan disciples, and all of them have fixed them with stony glares. Whatever Hanguang-jun has told them, it seems they’re no longer welcome. But that’s okay – Jiang Cheng has told his own disciples that if Hanguang-jun ever sets foot in Lotus Pier again without his express permission, he’s going to string them up by their ankles.
And yet – it wasn’t bad, his time at Cloud Recesses over two decades ago. With all the resentment that came later, that’s easy to forget. But it wasn’t bad.
“I think I see the gate,” Jin Ling says, and he’s right. Here’s the gate, guarded by the kid Jiang Cheng is now able to identify as Lan Sizhui, and his little friend. Of course.
“Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan Sizhui says, “I regret to inform you that-“
“Cut the crap,” Jiang Cheng interrupts. “Go find your Senior Wei and tell him that we’re asking his formal assistance for a night hunt. We’ll wait.”
Lan Sizhui’s expression is perfectly blank, betraying nothing. “May I ask what kind of night hunt?”
Two can play this game. Jiang Cheng makes sure his face is impassive as he says, “A real one.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Lan Sizhui says after a small pause, and leaves. The other disciple waits a few seconds and then says, “So, not to alarm you or anything, but Hanguang-jun kind of told us that if he ever sees you in Cloud Recesses, he’s going to-“
“Alright!” Jiang Cheng says loudly. “I think I can guess. Jin Ling, correct your posture! You’re not an old woman.”
“Ugh,” Jin Ling says.
Lan Sizhui, in the end, does not keep them waiting as long as Jiang Cheng expected. He thought they’d be here at least a few days, and had in fact already braced himself for a camping experience right outside Cloud Recesses that would last a week or more. But it’s barely three hours before Lan Sizhui resumes his position, and Jiang Cheng’s idiot brother steps through the gates.
“What, no bodyguard this time?” Jiang Cheng asks before he can stop himself. Wei Wuxian’s sunny smile doesn’t waver.
“I told Lan Zhan that if he even thinks about following me, I won’t-“ He looks at Jin Ling, and falters. “-um. Play. Catch. With him.”
“Nice safe,” Jiang Cheng says with all the sarcasm he can muster up.
“I hate you so much,” Jin Ling says.
“So what brings you here? Sizhui mentioned a night hunt?” Wei Wuxian asks, like nothing ever happened between them, like no one ever tried to kill or stab, or actually killed or stabbed, anyone in this round, like no one ever accused anyone of being in an abusive relationship and tried to forcefully divorce them, like they’re just two brothers and their nephew on a friendly visit.
Maybe they are. Maybe that’s exactly what this is. After all, Wei Wuxian has always been terrible at holding grudges.
Jin Ling says, “We couldn’t find a panda, and we’re not sure about the demon part. But we finally managed to find a flesh-eating elephant that’s totally immune to spiritual power.”
“We could use your help with it,” Jiang Cheng adds, when Wei Wuxian doesn’t react. “Shouldn’t take more than a week.”
“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says, “you know I’d make a terrible divorcee, don’t you? I’d do nothing but sleep all day and drink wine all night.”
“You already do that,” Jiang Cheng tells him. Wei Wuxian starts pouting, which stopped being cute when he turned eight. Jiang Cheng finds himself saying, more awkward than he’s ever felt in his life, “If you do ever need a place to stay, you come to Lotus Pier. We’re – Lotus Pier is your home, and I won’t have people saying that the Jiang Sect Leader doesn’t take care of his family.”
“If I ever need a place to stay,” Wei Wuxian acknowledges. Then he brightens, putting one arm companionly around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders, the other around Jin Ling’s. “And why are we still talking about that, anyway? Let’s go inside so you can tell me about that flesh-eating elephant you got for me!”
They go inside. Miraculously, neither of them catch fire when they go through the gates, and they make it in one piece. Jiang Cheng suspects this is more Wei Wuxian’s doing than any forgiveness on Hanguang-jun’s part.
Wei Wuxian has always been terrible at holding grudges. But as long as he keeps others around who’ll hold the grudges for him, he’ll be alright.