Chapter Text
Qin Su was nineteen years old the year the Sunshot campaign began.
As the daughter of the leader of a small sect, just towards the end of her time as a junior disciple, she ended up mainly working in the war camps of larger sects. The Lanling Jin sect, in particular, absorbed many Laoling Qin cultivators, including Qin Su and her small cohort of fellow junior disciples. The Jin did not see much use in rejecting anyone who could swell their ranks and protect their own, and the other sects were either too focused on their own cultivation style (the Gusu Lan with their music, the Qinghe Nie and their sabers) or too focused on raw survival (the Yunmeng Jiang sect, also recruiting anyone who came to them but so desperate they continued to suffer heavy losses each battle).
Qin Su was a decent cultivator, not spectacular but skilled enough. Any lady of the gentry was expected to have at least a passing knowledge of cultivation, and Qin Su, although she lacked that drive to achieve, had been a healthy but lonely child, which was perfect for strengthening her golden core. But the chaos of war was something she had never before anticipated.
She had spent her youth comparatively wealthy and fairly free to follow her own mind, not expected to achieve great martial feats. Her sword was a familiar weight in her hand, but she did not have the skill many others boasted. She was not used to battle; since she was female and belonged to a small satellite sect, and as she was not even the heir, no great martial skill had ever been expected of her. She had killed ghosts and monsters, of course, as every cultivator does, but never alone, and never anything particularly dangerous. It had all been for fun; night hunts with her friends and her sect siblings. But this was war, the great war, and all cultivators were needed.
And so, when she was asked to join a small patrol around the edges of the Jin camp, she did. And when that same patrol was ambushed by Wen cultivators, she fought with people she did not know well and watched them die around her. She fought as well as she could, even killing at least one Wen and wounding several more, but it wasn’t enough. She could be proud of herself, but it was small comfort when here and now she was certain she was going to die.
She could say at least that she had been in one battle, and afterward, as she stumbled through the woods, she felt very certain that it would be her last. The Wens had picked their ambush targets well and carefully, specifically targeting a small patrol of weak cultivators with no set leader, and Qin Su had only survived because one had struck her in the head and her unconscious body had appeared dead to the ones who had looted the corpses before she’d woken, alone in the bloody mud, her clothes torn. She had a large wound on her thigh that she could not remember getting, and although she counted her blessings that it had not struck an artery, she still could not move quickly enough to escape if any other Wens were to come across her.
Her heartbeat echoed throughout her whole body. She was, strangely enough, not terrified, but instead running on some strange clarity that seemed to fill her whole body up, like she had stayed up the whole night and was watching the sunrise. She could only hope that it would fuel her long enough to get home.
And then she stumbled right into a person.
She almost drew her sword on them, her body still singing with fear and the instinctive distrust of any stranger, but stopped when she saw that they were dressed in the colors of a low-level Jin soldier just like she was. Still, she found herself breathing hard, her whole body tensing up even more.
It was a young man, probably a few years older than her, small and beautiful. His clothes were neat and clean, although he was holding some wild, muddy plants in his hands. He steadied her as she wobbled. When he grabbed her arms and shoulders, the wild herbs he was holding got crushed against her clothes; they let off a crisp, heathery fragrance that started to clear her head as she breathed the scent in.
“Are you alright, guniang?” he asked. “No, don’t answer that, here, here.”
Qin Su was breathing too hard to respond, but she let him ease her down to sit at the base of a tree. She watched, slightly apart from her body, as he ripped parts off of both their robes to make a broad bandage pad and the ties to bind it to her leg, a rough way to staunch the bleeding. She could not even be embarrassed at the fact her bare thigh was visible through the rough slash through her robes and pants. Modesty was not a priority when she was bleeding out.
“Can you stand?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she said, and let him lever her up. Once she was on her feet she wobbled a few times, dizzy with the blood loss, but he slung one of her arms over his shoulders and supported her. He was about her height, just a little taller, and a part of her was distantly grateful that her shoulder wasn’t being wrenched upwards out of its socket. Another part was slightly disappointed he obviously wasn’t strong enough to simply carry her.
“Keep talking to me, alright?” he said, as he began leading her away, his steps purposeful, marching unerringly in one direction as if he knew exactly where he was taking her. “We have to keep you awake. Keep talking. What’s your name? I’m Meng Yao.”
Qin Su didn’t die. This was a surprise to her, even after her rescue; she had been terrified of how much blood she had lost. Her dress had been sodden with it. But Meng Yao delivered her safely into the arms of the doctors. Her concussion wasn’t serious and her thigh wound had missed an artery; after it was stitched and she spent several days on bedrest, she was given a set of crutches and duties to take care of around camp, now that she couldn’t join in the actual fighting.
And so it was that Qin Su first met Lan Xichen on the battlefields and war camps of the Sunshot Campaign.
After her stitches were removed and she went through weeks of limping around to rehabilitate the wound on her thigh and prove her dedication to the cause, Qin Su was assigned to work in the medical tents; Lan Xichen was a distant blue and white blur through the war camps, a stormcloud. She knew who he was, of course. Everyone knew Zewu-jun. She had read the lists of Best-Looking Male Cultivators. But she was also hyper alert for any mention of him, because the same beautiful little cultivator who had rescued her after her thigh wound had spoken of him so fondly during his attempts to keep her conscious. The memories were hazy, naturally, but she had been intrigued. How did someone so low on the Jin chain of command know Lan Xichen so well? And where, exactly, had Meng Yao disappeared off to in those weeks Qin Su had been convalescent?
It wasn't that Qin Su was intentionally spying on him. She was just curious, was all. She was perhaps a bit too invested in the kind of person Meng Yao liked. So it goes. So it went.
She was still young, even if the war had aged everyone she knew decades. She was allowed this one luxury.
For all her watching, when Lan Xichen came to her tent, nursing broken ribs, she was taken by surprise.
“I would have dealt with it myself,” he said, apologetically, “But it is rather difficult to play the xiao like this.”
His voice was soft and breathy. His chest, when he removed his robes so that she could peek at the bruising stretching across his ribs, was astonishingly muscular. The contrast between his gentle face and his body, obviously toned for battle, was fascinating.
“There’s no trouble,” Qin Su heard herself say. “We’re always here to help.”
She checked his tongue and did her best for his ribs, but ultimately he was a strong cultivator and they had no medicine that was better than a powerful golden core. As long as she bound them tightly enough to keep them from healing crookedly, he would be all better in a few weeks. She gave him some medicine for the pain, but they were running low. They needed to conserve their supplies. He would just have to deal with the pain if he wanted to play his xiao or swing his sword.
Qin Su, having become increasingly frustrated while limping around camp on her injured leg for the past few weeks as her own mediocre core struggled to knit the muscle together, sympathized.
Lan Xichen slipped his robes (elaborate, fashionable, expensive) back on and made to exit the tent, but paused in the doorway.
“It was nice to meet you, Qin-guniang,” he said, smiling, and bowed to her formally. And then he was gone.
…
The war went as wars go, violent and bloody and boring. It seemed to drag on for an eternity, the days marked only by who died and who survived each battle. And staying with the Jins meant that nothing particularly exciting happened; the most interesting battles were the ones fought with the new cultivation technique of the Jiang sect. Qin Su herself was not able to see the Jiang sect and their head disciple’s corpse armies more than once or twice from a distance, but she heard the gossip. Honestly, she thought that most of it was probably exaggeration. People were fond of stretching the truth, especially during wars.
And, of course, although her leg healed rapidly day by day, she was not present at the battle of Nightless City, either. Although she was healed enough to begin working through her sword forms once again, she was not able to join the fighting. And so she missed Meng Yao killing Wen Ruohan and ending the war.
She was bitterly disappointed by this, and struggled to admit to herself that it was for the best. But still. She would have liked to have seen it. She justified to herself that it wasn’t some morbid curiosity or the simple desire to witness glory and history being made. Instead, her thoughts were, she believed, deeper.What would his face have looked like? He was a hero, now! She had heard what people said about him. She hoped that they would not be able to say such things again.
She heard that he was going to be formally recognized by his father. She heard that he was to be renamed Jin Guangyao, a rather insulting choice, but a noble name nevertheless. And she heard how often he was seen in the company of Lan Xichen.
Well, the gossips mentioned both Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue, but the rumors claimed the latter didn’t get along very well at all with Jin Guangyao. Qin Su had grown very interested in gossip lately. It was out of character for her, but sometimes rumor was all a young lady had when starved for news of the wider world. Her family kept her, her elder brother, and her sect siblings at home, to rebuild any parts of the sect damaged in the war, and train the few new recruits they had gained from towns eager to send their children off to the cultivators. She thought that maybe a few of the young ones may have come from places formerly controlled by the Wens, but nobody said anything against it. They were young, all of them. None of them deserved to suffer for the sins of their parents. As long as they did not have the Wen name, they would be quietly accepted.
Still, busy as she was helping to run the Laoling Qin sect, Qin Su found herself daydreaming more often than not. After all, many things were happening at Koi Tower. Exciting things, wonderful things. Koi Tower was only a short sword ride away. Qin Su could spend a day there, if she was quick and sneaky about it.
She was young, she said to herself, justifying her selfishness. It was only right that she begin to heal from the war like this, like any other teenage girl living in peacetime. A little bit of boy-craziness was only to be expected, from someone of marriageable age. Her parents had been in several talks with other gentry about betrothals.
Qin Su dreamt of Meng Yao’s big earnest eyes, and his smile, and his braided hair. The way he helped her to her feet after her injury and let her lean on him as he walked her to camp. His smile. His smile.
She also thought often of Lan Xichen’s quiet voice and kind face. She did not dream of him in the same way, but she had enjoyed their meeting. She hoped to speak with him again. It was nice to think of boys again, as she had done before she knew what war was.
And so she made her plans.
Qin Su worked in secrecy for a week or so. Truly, the amount of subterfuge she invested in the operation was not necessary; it was not like Laoling Qin’s lands were heavily guarded, just waiting for their sect’s young mistress to make her nefarious escape. Most of the lands nearby were cleared of dangerous beasts simply by virtue of bordering one of the big four cultivation sects. But it was fun to plan and plot.
She begged some of her elder sect sisters for clothes to borrow, clothes that flattered her figure and went well with her complexion. She had nice clothes, of course, as the daughter of the sect leader, but as she stared into her closet none of them quite seemed mature enough; they were all the clothes of a child, she thought, someone who had not seen war but instead was used to drinking tea, eating sweets, and whiling away the days in luxury. That kind of person simply wasn’t her anymore. And, possibly more importantly, it wasn’t the kind of image she wanted to project.
She picked out her favorite hairpins and practiced just a little bit of makeup, although she found fairly quickly that she didn’t like the feeling of anything but the lightest of paint. It itched on her face; she went with something small, just painted lines around her eyes and blotted rose pigment on her lips. It made her feel beautiful.
And then, on a day when both her parents were busy enough to be thoroughly distracted and she had nothing particularly pressing to do herself, she made her excuses to her senior sect siblings and climbed on her sword.
She had flown the route to Lanling often, and Koi Tower was familiar to her. She had often wandered through its twisting corridors and many winding garden paths when she was younger. She did not tend to get lost anymore. But she had never been there on her own. In the past, she had always been traveling to and fro with her parents and their associated entourage. Later on, with the army during the war, she had tromped all over Jin lands, following orders and the back of the person in front of her. Still, she knew the route well and steered her sword with confidence.
It was so exciting! Suddenly gripped with a fierce joy, Qin Su threw both her arms out, tilted her head back, and let the wind rush through her hair. She felt seized with the need to enjoy life, now that the war was over and she had survived mostly unscathed, despite seeing battle a grand total of once. She was alive! She was young, and she had survived, and she thought she might be in love, that the stories of love at first sight were true. This was the new Qin Su! She was sure of it. She had always been quiet and obedient before -- the perfect daughter. It wasn’t Now, she knew what she wanted and she was going after it, full tilt. She had no intention of fundamentally changing as a person, of course, but nobody was going to stop her, not anymore.
That ride to Koi Tower was some of the freest she had ever felt.
Qin Su wasn't sure where to start searching for the person she wanted to see, but she knew Koi Tower well, and so decided to make a sort of gentle spiral inwards. As such, she checked the camellia gardens, then the banquet hall, and then the main library. It was at this final spot that she found who she was looking for, mostly by turning a corner a bit too fast and nearly colliding with him.
He was carrying several books. He put his elbow to the side to steady himself on the wall. The vermilion Jin mark stood out brightly on his forehead.
"Oh, my apologies!" he said, sounding flustered. He was not looking at her yet, instead steadying his stack of papers against his chest.
"It's my fault," Qin Su said. "I was moving too quickly."
She reached out and helped stabilize one of the books.
"Do not rush unduly," Jin Guangyao said quietly. Then he looked up at her, finally.
"Oh! Qin-guniang. Your leg is healed, I assume, if you're running through our hallways?”
Qin Su had heard of his astonishing memory, that nearly preternatural ability of his to recall so much, especially about people, after only meeting them once. Still, it gave her a little thrill that he remembered her name.
"Yes, it's healed perfectly," she said, trying to push down her blush.
“I’m so pleased,” Jin Guangyao said, with a broad smile, and Qin Su’s heart thrilled.
“And you? Are you well?”
“I am, thank you,” he said, although it sounded slightly rushed. “Qin-guniang, my apologies, but I need to take these to the Peony Hall. Is there anything you need? Can I accompany you anywhere afterward? I’m afraid I can’t be a very good host today, much as I would like to be.”
“I’m here to see you,” Qin Su said, honestly. “I don’t mind the quality of your hospitality. Will you show me the Peony Hall? Anything you need to do today, I’ll accompany you. I’ve snuck out, you see. I am a rebel.”
Here she winked and smiled, and put a finger to her nose.
Jin Guangyao looked taken aback at her boldness (or honesty, it was difficult to tell) but then he smiled, his dimples deep.
“That sounds fine, Qin-guniang. I’m sure I can find some time to have some tea. My brother's friend Luo Qingyang is always inviting me to have tea with both of them. I’m sure she’d love to have you there today.”
“That sounds lovely,” Qin Su said. It certainly couldn’t hurt to be friendly with someone she hoped to eventually be related to, although she was certainly getting ahead of herself… she shook herself out of the thought. In any case, Luo Qingyang was a lovely person, from everything she’d heard. And while it would be improper for just the two of them to have tea together, the fact that Jin Guangyao had even suggested a chaperoned meal filled her with a bubbly joy.
“Well then,” Jin Guangyao said. “Follow me, please.”
The Laoling Qin Sect often visited Lanling, since Qin Su's father and the Jin sect leader were good friends. Qin Su came with her parents every time.
And so Qin Su came back, again and again.
She… well, to be frank, she followed Jin Guangyao around, ignoring any analogies about puppies that might cross her mind. Jin Guangyao always received her happily, and she often trailed after him as he did his work. He was so busy every time -- always with his head in papers and reports, or directing servants, or being scolded by his stepmother, who seemed to find fault in everything he did. Qin Su did what she could to help. It won her smiles each time she did so.
She didn't know much about flirting, but she tried her best. He seemed receptive to it, at least, if also very distracted. Most of the time she appeared to be interrupting something very important he was reading or directing, but he never said anything. He always made time for her, and eventually, they settled into a kind of comfortable dialogue.
She still liked his smile best.
It was on one of these many visits that Qin Su met the other person she had been hoping to meet. She was not expecting to find Lan Xichen tucked away in a little alcove in the Koi Tower gardens. Actually, he startled her; she had to take a few deep breaths to get her heart under control, once she recognized him. She could, however, admit to herself that she was much happier it was him there rather than anyone else, especially the trysting lovers she'd discovered in similar spots on too many occasions.
He had an easel set up before him and an inkstone and brush perched next to him. Small jars of pigment clustered around his feet.
He looked up at her and smiled. It was a real smile, not the polite one he wore as his default, and Qin Su was proud that she could tell the difference, even though they had only met a few times.
"Qin-guniang!" he said. "What a pleasure. Are you looking for a nook in which to sit? You may share mine."
"Thank you, Zewu-jun," said Qin Su, bowing.
"Oh, goodness, you don't have to be so formal!" he exclaimed. "We're friends, yes? Call me Lan Xichen. Here, you can sit."
Qin Su came and sat. It was, technically, not proper for an unmarried man and woman to spend time together like this. But the reputation of the First Jade was unimpeachable.
She had a book with her, a thin novel she'd been working her way through. But as soon as she was settled and looked up, she gasped.
Lan Xichen had been painting. She had known this, of course. The easel was obvious. But what was on his paper took her breath away.
He had painted the landscape in front of them; the buildings of Koi Tower in the distance, the blooming flowers, the fountains. The art was stunning. Looking at it, Qin Su felt like it was a dream put to paper.
"It's beautiful," she breathed.
"Oh, you flatter me," said Lan Xichen. "But thank you."
She did not flatter him, or at least no more than others did. Lan Xichen was known as one of the best artists of their time, and his works were highly coveted.
He picked up his brush again. Qin Su watched him push and pull it along the paper, bringing a vine to life under his hands.
They stayed in that nook for hours, eventually. Qin Su alternated between reading her book, watching the domestic peacocks wander the gardens, and observing Lan Xichen as he worked on his painting. He finished the landscape and set it aside to dry, and then he took another piece of paper, wet his brush, and began to sketch a person.
Qin Su watched her own face take shape under his hands. It was recognizably herself, but again there was that strange ethereal quality to it, the same one his other painting had had. This was not Qin Su as she thought of herself. This was Lan Xichen painting the Qin Su he had in his head.
It was lovely. Qin Su found herself profoundly touched.
Eventually a servant girl came to summon them to dinner. Looking at her and the others like her always made Qin Su's skin crawl; they were all young, and lovely, and so quiet and meek and frightened.
They wore violence on their skin as much as soldiers did. But it was a violence done to them, not one they wielded themselves.
But Qin Su and Lan Xichen both stood up when she spoke to them. After she had left, bowing deeply and practically disappearing into thin air, Lan Xichen turned to Qin Su.
"You may have this," he said. "I hope you are pleased with it."
"I am honored," Qin Su told him, bowing. She carefully slipped the rolled up paper into her qiankun bag. "Shall we go eat?"
"Yes, let's," said Lan Xichen. "Nothing like sitting still to work up an appetite, hm? After you, Qin-guniang."
Qin Su beamed.
It took quite a while for everything to feel normal again. After everyone recovered from their Sunshot injuries and the sects took stock of their losses, both human and material, the formal celebrations of their victory became more and more elaborate. The Jin sect hosted many of them, of course. They had sustained the fewest losses of any sect over the course of the war, and had a strong interest in showing off their wealth, good breeding, and magnanimity. Also, according to Jin Guangyao, his brother had a vested interest in getting more time to spend with Jiang Yanli.
He had also confessed to her, seemingly offhandedly, that he likely would not be allowed to marry until Jin Zixuan, the heir, did. Qin Su, for no particular reason, tucked this little piece of information away in the back of her head. It never hurt to be prepared.
Jin Guangyao was, of course, extremely busy. Too busy, in fact, to make time for her, which she tried her best not to sulk about. He was desperate for any validation from his father, and so spent his time running frantically around Carp Tower putting out fires both metaphorical and sometimes, unfortunately, literal, all to keep the Jin sect running smoothly. Qin Su, spitefully, sometimes wondered how they’d ever managed without him, looking at all the work he did.
Either way, this meant that she was rather at loose ends. She spent a lot of time with her friends from her own sect, but the Laoling Qin clan was small enough that most of them preferred to spend time with the disciples of other clans as well, with friends in their own age group, and not Qin Su, her elder brother, and her other five sect brothers and six sect sisters, all of whom were of varying ages. So she floated mostly aimlessly through the various social groups, making small chat when she had to and trying to eavesdrop politely. She wished she had more friends, but she had never been good at making strong connections, and several of her closest confidantes had died in the war.
She thought that that was the case for most people. Many of the young adults seemed to be taking the celebrations to extremes, perhaps to forget the people who could no longer be with them at the party.
The Qishan Wen sect was gone, its people dead or scattered. It really was a tremendous relief; the air of fear that had permeated all the sects since a few years before the war had lifted. Qin Su had known some of those who had died, and had nearly been killed herself. As a young girl she had thought herself practically immortal. She was bitterly aware of how fragile she was, now.
The Jins set up a number of cultivation competitions. Qin Su participated in the archery tournament, but did not shoot any game. This did not distress her; as a member of a small peripheral sect, she was used to coming in towards the last place of competitions.
She was still allowed to enjoy the festivities, however, and so she did.
But the feasts dragged on for hours, and the hours transitioned to days. She heard that Wei Wuxian of the Jiang sect had caused quite the commotion, and he had apparently run off with a group of Wens, but it was all hearsay. She herself had not been invited to the banquet in question. The Jin were involved enough that she was not able to ask Jin Guangyao to verify any of it, as he was consumed with the fallout.
Qin Su knew her role, and knew that she would likely be married off to someone relatively high-status but out of the way. She had an idea of who she wanted it to be. Outside of that, she frankly did not care much about politics. People called her childish, but she preferred simple joys. She had no problem letting other people make the decisions.
So she used her newly acquired knowledge of Carp Tower’s back paths and winding gardens to her advantage. She was the picture of a polite, well-bred young lady whenever she had to socialize, smiling and making gentle compliments as she was taught. She allowed herself to be pulled into toasts and exchanged wine. But whenever the parties grew overlong and she felt her smile falter she would excuse herself and then, effectively, disappear.
It was a perfect strategy. Her parents were happy, Qin Su’s friends and peers were happy, and she herself wasn’t running her social skills ragged. Jin Guangyao was busier than ever, with no time for her beyond the genial socialization he offered everyone, so he could hardly entice her to stay longer.
This was how she found herself once again running into Lan Xichen, many times over again passing him as they each took rests from the chaos that seemed normal here. They never spoke much, only a few passing sentences, but they developed a small camaraderie. At one point Qin Su covered her face with her sleeve so nobody but Lan Xichen could see and stuck out her tongue.
This made him laugh. Then he smiled at her, a little self-deprecating. "I enjoy parties," he told her, "But I'm hardly used to them. And this one seems rather… excessive.”
“You don't mind me taking a break here with you, do you?" Qin Su had said, and he had shaken his head, and that was that.
That was how it had gone, back until everything settled down to just about where things had been before the war. The Jins went back to their riches without the Wen political prisoners to handle, the Lans returned to their mountain home, and Qin Su returned to her family estate and the streets of her childhood.
It was a start.