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Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng had often dreamed of what it would be like the day he became Sect Leader. Taking care of his people, teaching his disciples, raising YunmengJiang higher and higher in the ranks of public opinion - as high as he could get them. He’d be the pride of his family line, surrounded by loyal followers and family, and all naysayers who had once looked down on his sect would have to look up .

Glory, honor, loyalty. Family. A simple dream, golden and true.

The dream of a fool, really. All of it.

Becoming Sect Leader had not been glorious, but simple necessity. It had not been about raising YunmengJiang high, but desperately keeping it from crumbling to dust. Amidst the chaos of war, Jiang Cheng had been forced to rebuild as much as he’d been forced to fight and had somehow managed to carve out his own future through it all: violent, stone-hearted, stubborn. Alone.

What was left of that golden dream had died in his arms and fallen away, until there was nothing but ashes.

Jiang Cheng’s dreams were far more simple now, easily shifting from the general day to day routine his life had fallen into. Let peace continue for one more year, then one year more. Let the paperwork be less than it was the day before. Let his people weather one more flood, one more harvest. Let the work ease off enough for a break. Let the guilt and grief be easier to carry tomorrow, tomorrow, and the tomorow after that.

Let Jin Ling grow up well, despite having such a miserable wretch of an uncle. And let the YunmengJiang Elders learn to keep their noses out of his business.

Jiang Cheng dipped his brush a tad more vindictively than was warranted, jaw clenching at that thought. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t understand their concerns, given he was the Last Jiang and a fortuitous arranged marriage was pretty much expected of every Sect Leader that wasn’t a Lan. But the years leading here had not opened his heart to the possibility of such a thing. In fact, quite the opposite. Any and all affections Jiang Cheng possessed belonged solely to his nephew and that was that. The Elders could spit blood over it and die for all he cared, which he was certain they knew by now, but that didn’t stop their insistent nagging. Or interfering on his behalf “for the good of the sect” and all that nonsense.

The fact they wanted him to marry a Lan was laughable at best. It was clear to him they hoped a fine lady from such a place would soothe his fury, all while making a firm connection to one of their oldest allies. It was a smart move, politically speaking, but personally Jiang Cheng would rather eat fire. Mellow him out? Make him easier to control? As if Jiang Cheng would give them the satisfaction.

If there was one thing Jiang Cheng could enjoy about being forced to do so much paperwork, it was his mastery of the art of telling people to fuck off in the most polite ways possible. The problem was, however, that this time it didn’t seem to be working.

He’d written this letter at least four times now and still they persisted. They were getting bold, or maybe looking for an excuse to get rid of him at last. He couldn’t exactly fault them for that, either, but that didn’t mean he’d give in without a fight. There had to be a way to win this. But how?

Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes down at the page, but it didn’t last long. The soft, wayward singing behind him had finally tapered off and a small hand tugged on his robe.

“Jiu-jiu?”

“Mm?” Jiang Cheng took a deep breath to calm himself and retook his brush. A lock of hair, usually tied back but gleefully undone by his nephew, slowly slid off his shoulder and flopped against his cheek. He brushed it behind his ear without a thought, the movement so ingrained in him given Jin Ling’s lingering obsession with braids the past year courtesy of one Nie Huaisang .

Jin Ling yawned and got up to toddle to his front. The braid he’d abandoned had been left untied and Jiang Cheng could feel it slowly loosen against his back.

“I think it’s time for bed,” the boy stated, imperious, even though just an hour before he’d nearly thrown a tantrum at the mere idea of sleep. Climbing into Jiang Cheng’s lap, he folded himself into his usual place and sighed, looking sleepy and content. “It’s your bedtime, jiu-jiu.”

“Is it?” Jiang Cheng’s brush didn’t hesitate, finishing the line of text without wobbling, even with his wiggling nephew jostling him. Being a de-facto parent to a squirming child had done wonders for his bodily control. “I think I can finish this page at least.”

On cue, Jin Ling’s little face scrunched up and he pat at Jiang Cheng’s cheek. “Jiu-jiu, it’s your bedtime.” 

“One more character,” Jiang Cheng bargained, though he decidedly wrote out more than one. Jin Ling was nevertheless mollified and he got away with the rest of his sentence before the whining started again. “All right, fine, done,” he huffed and set down his brush in an exaggerated manner so Jin Ling couldn’t accuse him of cheating. He still got a squinty stare before his nephew nodded, satisfied.

Jiang Cheng felt his heart swell with fondness, so much it was painful. He scowled to cover a smile. “Just who is the uncle and who is the nephew here?”

Jin Ling’s round cheeks puffed out in an approximation of the same look. “Jiu-jiu works too much. It’s time for sleep, not work.”

He often wondered how distressed Jin Ling would be to know the truth of just how much work Jiang Cheng actually did. That this bedtime his nephew insisted on with him was a time he considered early. But wondering was as far as he carried it, given falling a little behind on paperwork to fit in Jin Ling’s schedule was better than upsetting the boy. He shoved the thought aside.

“If the little lord proclaims it so, then it must be,” Jiang Cheng indulged that pout which he feared Jin Ling had very much learned from him. He only had Jin Guangyao as his other guardian to take his cues from, after all, and Jiang Cheng was certain the man was only capable of smiling, no matter what he was truly feeling. Gifted though he was, pouting was not a talent he possessed. Probably for the best. He ruled the cultivation world as it was with his smiles alone. He’d rule all of China with a pout and teach Jin Ling how to do it too. Then they’d all be doomed.

Jin Ling’s pouts were devastating enough on him. He hoped one day he’d grow a callous to it, if only for the sake of his sanity. He wanted Jin Ling to grow up strong, confident in his own abilities, not on how easily he could manipulate others into doing what he wanted. That meant working hard, no matter his station, the way Jiang Cheng did.

Just because Jiang Cheng was hopelessly wrapped around his tiny fingers did not mean everyone else had to be.

“Jiu-jiu?” He was patted on the cheek again and he stared down at the curious look he was getting, hoping his expression didn’t show how much he was melting on the inside.

“What is it?”

“If I helped you work, would you have more time to play?” Jin Ling asked. It was like a shot of guilt straight to his heart, gods damn it all.

“Help me how?” Jiang Cheng couldn’t stop the warmth from flooding his voice that time. What good was it to hide from a five year old, anyway? He’d already promised his whole life to seeing Jin Ling grow up. How could he do it without giving all of himself? Surely small glimpses wouldn’t ruin Jin Ling, wouldn’t make him realize his favorite uncle was little more than an ugly shell?

A determined face now. He’d gotten that from his father, most definitely. “How can I help if I don’t know what it is?” the boy demanded, nose in the air. His mother’s nose, that, coupled with her soft, soft eyes. Jiang Cheng’s heart broke all over again, the way it did whenever her ghost echoed through her son’s face, though he smiled through it, because her sweet features had never done that. 

“That is true,” Jiang Cheng picked up his brush, knowing Jin Ling was distracted enough to delay putting off the rest of his letter, and started in on the last of the lines. “A true leader does not act rashly. He asks questions, learns what he can. If he has all the facts, he can come up with the best solution. Remember what I’ve taught you, A-Ling. Small steps always lead to big results.”

Jin Ling nodded seriously, absorbing his words like a sponge. “I’m asking,” he said and never had he looked so much like a tiny lordling. “Let me help.”

“That wasn’t a question,” Jiang Cheng snorted, but let him have the victory if only so he didn’t stop Jiang Cheng from writing once more. “The Elders want me to get married. Again.”

He probably needed to discourage Jin Ling’s immediate distaste of the idea. Marriage was a duty sect leaders were unable to dodge out of. Hell, Jin Guangyao had already begun vetting various matchmakers to seek out potential brides for when Jin Ling was old enough. It was altogether normal and expected and Jin Ling should really not be wrinkling his nose at it.

One day, Jiang Cheng promised himself he would curb it. Sometime. Eventually. Much, much later.

Tonight, he just rubbed the crease from between Jin Ling’s brows, careful of his vermillion Jin mark, his letter once more forgotten. “I’ve told them no, but they are relentless. Should we just break their legs?”

“Who do they want jiu-jiu to marry?” That crinkle in his forehead was not going away, it seemed. Jiang Cheng sighed.

“A Lan,” he told him and set his brush down with a creeping feeling of failure gripping at his insides. The letter was unfinished, but what was the point to complete what he’d already written out so many times before? They would only push the matter even more, would they not? And that would mean… that this was it. Was this as far as he could delay the inevitable?

A tiny gasp broke through his thoughts and suddenly Jin Ling was tugging on him, a fist full of fabric and hair. “Jiu-jiu is marrying Zewu-jun?!”

Jiang Cheng stared down at him in stupefied silence. The way five year old brains worked sometimes… what the actual hell? What did the First Jade of Lan have to do with anything he’d just said? He thought hard on that, trying to puzzle through Jin Ling’s thought process, and quickly before the boy thought he was being ignored.

He supposed it had to be that Lan Xichen was constantly around Carp Tower, a silver jewel radiating alongside the golden glow of his sworn brother. It stood to reason that besides Lan Qiren, who had sat and played with Jing Ling at the previous year’s Conference, Lan Xichen was the only Lan that Jin Ling knew about, and certainly was the only Lan he had regular contact with. Therefore, not a terrible jump to make.

Hoping he was correct, Jiang Cheng tugged on the end of Jin Ling’s own braid, half falling out as it was from all the playing he’d done after dinner. “There’s an idea,” he said, because really, what an idea. “And you sound so surprised. Do you think Zewu-jun wouldn’t marry me? Do you doubt your jiu-jiu that much? What an ungrateful brat you are! Perhaps it’s your legs I should be breaking!”

Of course Lan Xichen wouldn’t marry someone like Jiang Cheng. Who would? But that wasn’t the point. Honestly, it was amusing just to think about and seeing Jin Ling’s surprise dissolve into giggles was worth everything.

“Zewu-jun is nice,” Jin Ling told him, beaming and patting at Jiang Cheng’s hand. “Jiu-jiu needs someone nice.”

Great, and now his nephew was giving him his blessing. Sure, he wanted to scoff, I’ll just fly up to Cloud Recessess and ask Sect Leader Lan to marry me. Wouldn’t that just make his council lose their collective minds?

Wouldn’t that just… wait .

“A-Ling,” he said slowly, feeling the dots connect in one horrible, glorious moment. It was a foolish, absolutely terrible idea that formed, but by the gods, it could actually work. “I think you might be onto something.”

He swept the unfinished letter from his desk and retrieved his brush. Jin Ling peered over his arm to watch him furiously write, too excited to complain about bedtimes anymore. Jiang Cheng had only managed such a thing a few times and knew it’d only last a mere couple minutes. But it was enough.

The Elders demanded he marry a Lan, because a Lan had perhaps the only chance in all the cultivation world to meet Jiang Cheng’s list of standards. He wrote them down now, the attributes of what he’d always considered to be the perfect fit for himself - altered rather recently, of course, to fit Jin Ling into the equation - and smirked viciously when he realized that yes, Lan Xichen actually fit nearly all of them. All but one, in fact: cultivation level not too high.

He’d added that the first time Elder Sister had asked him what he wanted his wife to be like. It’d been innocent at best, given her cultivation had not been strong. He’d wanted to marry someone just like her, so that was the standard it became. But as he grew and watched the rift form between his parents, it’d come to mean something else, that he could marry someone not only just like her, but someone who didn’t make him feel he had to compete. He was at odds with everyone, it felt like. He didn’t want his spouse to be just another opponent he had to prove himself to.

Lan Xichen was formidable, certainly, and there was no question that the man was in a league Jiang Cheng could only hope to match. Yet the Lan had never made him feel that distance. He was always warm, welcoming, and happy to see him, even when no one else seemed to be. At Conferences, he made a point to sit beside Jiang Cheng and talk to him at length, and it wasn’t mere small talk the way it was with everyone else. He asked about Jin Ling and listened to Jiang Cheng go on and on about him. He let Jiang Cheng complain about the day to day life in his sect and even wrote him letters during the times they could not meet in person.

Perhaps even more telling, he was the only one Jiang Cheng turned to for help and Lan Xichen never made him feel less for asking. He gave his aid and gladly, no matter how silly the situation, and always thanked him genuinely when Jiang Cheng responded in kind. From advice with dealing with this sect or that, to medicines he could give to Jin Ling, Lan Xichen never failed to answer him back, his words all ageless wisdom and that soft hint of amusement he always seemed to carry with him whenever he was with Jiang Cheng.

So, despite his cultivation level, Jiang Cheng had to admit he did not see Lan Xichen as a threat, or an opponent. He felt nothing but deep respect for the man and Lan Xichen had made it clear he felt the same. Honestly, if Jiang Cheng had to choose a rival that was also a Lan, it would be Lan Wangji.

Ah, and that was something else to consider. Marrying Lan Xichen would mean being an in-law to the steely Second Jade, who probably hated Jiang Cheng as much as Jiang Cheng hated him. Jiang Cheng wondered if the revulsion Lan Wangji would no doubt express hearing the news would be enough to overcome having to consider him family. It was decidedly hard to imagine any sort of expression like that on Lan Wangji’s face, but that only made it funnier.

Jiang Cheng decided far too easily it would be worth it just to see Lan Wangji have to call him brother-in-law. Or at least have to swallow the idea of it. He was absolutely that petty.

It wasn’t as though Lan Xichen would say yes, anyway, but again that wasn’t the point. In following the demands of his Elders, Jiang Cheng could make fools of the lot of them by choosing to propose, not to some fair maiden like they expected, but to the Sect Leader himself. Where his written, polite fuck off would not work, this certainly would ring out loud and clear. Hopefully they would finally get the hint that he was not someone to push. He’d ask Lan Xichen to marry him in front of the entire Cultivation Conference if it meant he could watch them drop dead of shock.

And on the very off chance Lan Xichen did agree? Well, that would be a whole new headache for them. In the centuries of Clan history, in all the rises and falls of each great sect, never had two sect leaders married one another. How would they negotiate visitations? Marriage titles? Heirs? Hell, even the damned wedding? To marry Lan Xichen would not be to forfeit his status as a YunmengJiang Sect member, the way it would if he were a mere disciple, and to marry him would not make Lan Xichen’s status as a Lan forfeit either. Jiang Cheng had no idea himself how he’d approach such a thing if asked. How badly would the Elders flounder if faced with the same?

The more he imagined it, the more he almost wanted Lan Xichen to indulge the joke just so he could get a good laugh in. The man had a sneaky sense of humor, to be sure. Perhaps he even would?

Fuck, was he actually going to do this?

Staring down at the list he’d made, Jiang Cheng tried to logic himself out of it, but the more he tried, the more he wanted to do it anyway. He was grinning as he set down his brush, all teeth.

Yes, he realized with a petty jolt of glee. He was.

“Jiu-jiu?”

Jiang Cheng pushed his writing desk away so he could stand with Jin Ling in his arms and felt the plan slip to the back of his mind. As it did every night, his world slowly condensed to the size of a five year old boy, currently yawning against his chest. “A-Ling, would you like to see snow?”

“Snow?” Jin Ling’s eyes lit up, even as he rubbed them sleepily. Jiang Cheng shifted him in his hold so he could pull free the lopsided braid hanging over Jin Ling’s shoulder. He ran his fingers through the sad loops to test how bad of a rat’s nest his nephew had managed and sighed as they immediately tangled.

“I’m going to Cloud Recesses,” Jiang Cheng explained and sat the boy on his bed. Grabbing a comb, he worked out the knots that seemed perpetually trained in Jin Ling’s hair. How he could still get a brush through it was a mystery to him most of the time.

“I want to see snow,” Jin Ling agreed, humming as his eyes slowly blinked closed. It was a habit he’d gotten from his mother, this soft music as he started to fall asleep, which defied all logic. She’d died too early for him to have picked it up from her directly. Yet he hummed all the same, aimless, a tad tuneless, the way it was with little children.

Jiang Cheng swallowed around the lump that usually formed to hear it and started to hum along with him, gently guiding the artless melody into one far more complex. One of Elder Sister’s lullabies that she’d sung to him, so many years ago. Her music and stories, these days, were the clearest memory of her he had, and he gave them all to Jin Ling.

“We’ll see snow,” he promised once the song drifted to a close. He set the comb down and quickly set in a new braid. “But only if you sleep.”

Tiny fingers wrapped around his sleeve. “Jiu-jiu? Can I sleep here?”

Jiang Cheng sighed, but knew he didn’t have the heart to tell him no. Not tonight. “Fine, but if you wake me up too early, you’re sleeping in your own bed from now on.”

“I won’t,” Jin Ling pouted and raised his arms up without prompting so Jiang Cheng could pull off his outer robe. He was back to rubbing his eyes while Jiang Cheng knelt to remove his shoes and stockings. “Jiu-jiu?”

Jiang Cheng bit down another sigh. Jin Ling always got chatty when he was this tired, but it didn’t stop the spike of anxiety that preceded each question he asked. He dreaded certain questions, dreaded the answers even more. He knew Jin Ling would ask them one day, he just didn’t know when. All he knew was that he wasn’t ready. Not even close. “Mn?”

“If you get married, will that mean I can’t come here anymore?”

If Jin Ling had kicked him in the face, it would have not hurt nearly as much as hearing that. Jiang Cheng felt a flare of fury in his chest, his anger snapping into his veins like an instant, liquid fire. 

“Who gave you that idea?” he demanded, more harshly than he intended. Thankfully, Jin Ling was tired enough that his show of hushed outrage did not bring him to angry tears of his own. He still sniffled a bit, wiping his nose with his sleeve, which was almost worse.

“If you marry, I’ll be in the way,” Jin Ling said, sad and soft. Jiang Cheng forced himself to breathe so as not to scare his nephew as he took his little face between his hands.

“Listen to me A-Ling, you will always be first in my life. Always,” he said, firm and solid in that. “You will always have a place here. This will always be your home. And I will always want you here. Married or not, you are my first priority. Do you understand me?”

Jin Ling smiled at that, wobbly but happy enough. “You promise?”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Jiang Cheng huffed and caressed under Jin Ling’s eyes with his thumbs to preemptively keep tears from spilling over. “I will always be by your side. I promise.”

“Okay.” Jin Ling folded forward, arms wrapping around Jiang Cheng’s neck. That hated lump was back in his throat, choked down even more with a helpless anger that someone, somehow, had planted such a terrible thing in his nephew’s mind. If he ever found out who, they’d have more than broken legs by the time he was through.

For now, he settled for turning the tired embrace into a lift. He held Jin Ling comfortably in one arm and adjusted the blankets on his bed with the other. Settling Jin Ling near the wall, where he could best protect him, Jiang Cheng sat back down to remove his own shoes and shrug out of his outer robes, then stretched out a foot gracelessly to drag over his discarded hair ribbon.

As he wove it into his hair for a braid to sleep in, Jiang Cheng’s eyes slid over to his desk, to the list halfway lit by a dying candle. For a moment, he considered his plan, formed in stubborn resentment at being controlled, and weighed it against Jin Ling’s quiet words that felt like barbs piercing under his skin. Logically, he knew it was rash and toeing that line of impropriety he’d never stepped over before, but on the other hand…

On the other hand, with a proper wife to make him proper heirs, what would Jin Ling think then? Would he be happy his family was growing, or would he fear he had to compete with them? That he’d always be second best?

Jiang Cheng felt his resolve close in around that and looked down at his sleeping nephew, watched his peaceful, gentle breaths, and swore that Jin Ling would never question his worth in such a way as long as Jiang Cheng could help it, not the way Jiang Cheng had done all his life. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could give, so he would. And to ensure that resolution, he had to propose to the First Jade of Lan himself. The scandal and embarrassment of rejection would ruin his chances of marriage for good, and he would be alone, possibly forever.

For Jin Ling alone, it would be worth it. So he would. It was that simple.

Resolved, Jiang Cheng tucked himself in and sighed, closing his eyes. Tomorrow then.

Chapter Text

He was pretty sure he hadn’t smiled this much in years.

It wasn’t a good smile, by any means. Toothy, cutting, full of vengeance. It’d come to his face during a morning meeting with his Elders as he assured them he was about to head off to find a Lan to woo, and it had barely left since, not even over the blurry miles upon miles he’d flown with a five year old clinging to him.

Their wary, downright scared faces had started it and Jiang Cheng was certain he’d be smiling for the rest of the week, once this new scandal exploded into being and reached his council’s ear. He should not be so happy to shred his reputation in half, but he was.

Adding to that was an odd sense of vindictiveness he felt against the late Jin Guangshan, who’d tried to keep Jiang Cheng from having any sort of custody of his nephew. Jin Ling, in his eyes, had been a fragile jewel to sit at the base of his crown and Jiang Cheng was the backwater sect leader destined to break him. Flying the precious Jin heir on a sword? Too dangerous! Daring to subject him to snow? Outrageous! Unfit for parenting of any kind!

The sect leader’s death, just a few months past, had really not come soon enough as far as Jiang Cheng was concerned. He just wished it’d been less peaceful than his heart giving out in his sleep. Bastard.

He was still surprised that Jin Guangyao had even managed to talk the man into letting Jiang Cheng have Jin Ling for nearly four months of the year. It’d been a logical move, since Carp Tower was subjected to an actual winter, complete with snow and ice and sleet, whereas Lotus Pier simply wasn’t. Fears that Jin Ling would catch cold and die had been very real during his toddler years and letting Jiang Cheng keep him in a warmer climate had been the dealbreaker.

Knowing that had been all he was good for in Jin Guangshan’s eyes had been a bitter pill to swallow. Knowing that Jin Ling, against all logic or reason, adored Jiang Cheng from the moment he began to recognize people had been the ultimate victory. Taking a then three year old Jin Ling home with him and seeing Jin Guangshan choke on his words that day had been a gift.

Now, here he was, feet crunching in a stretch of endless white at the gate to Cloud Recesses, Jin Ling bundled up in his arms in the fluffiest fur-lined cloak he had. The irony added a rather cruel stretch to his already morbid smile. Wherever that vile man had ended up in the afterlife, Jiang Cheng hoped he was turning in his grave.

The Lan guards actually flinched back when he lowered his hood and they realized just who was standing there with a murderous grin on his face. Younger ones, these had to be. The Lans prided themselves too highly with perfect serenity at all times, but these two obviously were still strangers to that sort of indifference. Even their bows were shaky at best. Where they perhaps that cold? Or was he just that terrifying? How hilarious to think of.

“S-Sect Leader Jiang!”

“I am here to see Sect Leader Lan,” Jiang Cheng told them, full authority in his voice, and only calmed his expression somewhat when Jin Ling gave the front of his robe a pointed tug. “As is Young Master Jin.”

Jin Ling sat up tall in his arms like the Jin princeling he was, though the effect was slightly nullified by the sheer amount of fluff fluttering in his face. Really, only his eyes and pink nose were visible at this point. “Zewu-jun gave my shu-shu a jade pendant,” he said primly, “and said I could come here whenever I want! So you have to let jiu-jiu in too.”

Not that that had ever been an issue, even if Jiang Cheng hardly ever made his way here. He could count on one hand the trips he’d made to Cloud Recesses since the end of the Sunshot Campaign and his name had always been enough to grant him entrance. It was true Jin Guangyao had the jade pendant for permanent access to Lan Xichen’s home and not him, but Lan Xichen had still made some sort of effort to let the guards know he was always welcome regardless, pendant or not, given Jiang Cheng had never had trouble nor needed an invitation.

Seeing Jin Ling standing up for him was still endearing, though. He swelled with pride.

“Of course Sect Leader Jiang, Young Master Jin.” The guards bowed again and waved down the protective ward. While one moved ahead quickly down the path, no doubt to warn Lan Xichen of the incoming storm, the other who’d spoken gestured them in. “Right this way, if you please. I can show you to the guest hall to wait-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jiang Cheng cut across, making the guard’s confidence slip a little, especially as he gestured with Sandu to further his point. “I know my way. And I promised Young Master Jin we’d enjoy some snow, since he’s never been allowed to be in it before.”

“Snow,” Jin Ling nodded in grave agreement, turning Jiang Cheng’s smile into a wicked point. His dear nephew, always willing to play along with his scary whims. Perhaps Jin Guangshan had been right to worry about him after all. He was a terrible influence.

“O-Of - of course!” the guard said, stammering now, and Jiang Cheng couldn’t blame him. This was so far off of propriety it was probably shocking the poor kid’s psyche to ribbons. He moved on by way of apology, if only to spare the guard more trouble and embarrassment, and felt his expression tame down for the first time that day.

A gentle snow had been falling since he’d landed in Gusu, but here it seemed amplified, silent and soft, with large flakes fluttering down. Jiang Cheng carried Jin Ling through the sect grounds, over bridges and past the guest quarters, until they were in the courtyard outside the greeting hall. Standing in the quiet of winter, surrounded by the sway of bells and chimes, Jiang Cheng felt like he was in a dream, like he and Jin Ling were the only two alive, and he carefully tugged off Jin Ling’s hood so the boy could feel the snow he’d wanted to see so badly.

Jin Ling’s eyes went wide in awe and lifted his hands to catch the falling lumps. His happy smile made him look so much like Elder Sister that Jiang Cheng almost had to look away, but he couldn’t, caught in the childish wonder on his nephew’s face.

“Jiu-jiu!” His voice was hushed, enraptured by all the white. “It’s cold!”

“It is cold,” Jiang Cheng agreed and tucked Sandu into his belt so he too could reach out to catch a few flakes. They dissolved immediately on his fingertips. “And wet.”

“Wet,” Jin Ling parroted obediently, nodding to himself like Jiang Cheng had just passed down some timeless piece of advice, before tilting his face to the sky. “Snow is cold and wet.”

Jiang Cheng looked up as well, felt the drops of cold land on his lips and cheeks, catch in his lashes, and a new smile lit his face. Soft, so soft. Why did this place give him peace when he did not ask for it? “Do you like snow, A-Ling?”

A giggle now, drawing Jiang Cheng’s attention, so easily. Jin Ling reached over to pat at Jiang Cheng’s hair, brushing away the snow caught there. “I like it, jiu-jiu. I like snow!”

“I do too,” he admitted, though it was partly untrue. He liked snow when it was calm like this, but the cold and wetness of it all made him want to bundle up in front of the nearest fire and refuse to move until the sun came out again. Like some sort of grumpy bear, he supposed. He was far too used to Yunmeng’s warmth to find much joy in colder weather, no matter how beautiful it was.

But there was a serenity to the gentle fall of snow, especially in a place like Cloud Recesses. When he’d come here for schooling, it had been the first time he’d seen it. Elder Sister, who’d spent a winter with their mother at Carp Tower when she was little, had seen snow there, but still she’d indulged his excitement. She’d looked like a goddess in that moment, too, lit in the hazy sun, dappled in pure white. Smiling so sweetly as she touched his face...

Smiling just as Jin Ling was smiling now. Jiang Cheng doubted himself far too often in regards to raising Jin Ling, but for once he knew he’d done all right and held him just a tad closer, the way he knew Elder Sister would have had she’d been able to be the one to show Jin Ling snow for the first time. Jin Ling snuggled in close in response, giggling, pink cheeked and rosy nosed, round face gleaming with drops of water. “I really like snow, jiu-jiu.”

“I’m glad, but you have to be careful, A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng said and brushed a stray bit of white from his nephew’s eyelashes. “Snow can be dangerous. If you get too wet and cold, you can get sick. And we both know how much you hate being sick.”

Jin Ling’s nose crinkled immediately, answering that well enough. Jiang Cheng snorted at such a disgusted face. “Don’t worry. Just tell me when you get cold and we’ll get you warmed up again.”

“I’m not cold, jiu-jiu,” Jin Ling assured him and went back to trying to catch the falling flakes. Jiang Cheng did not doubt it, given the furs he was wrapped in, but still kept an eye on him. Jin Ling was absolutely impossible to deal with when he was forced to stay in bed. “Jiu-jiu? Why doesn’t it snow at home?”

Jiang Cheng considered that. How to explain to a five year old that he wasn’t allowed to see snow in his own sect because his other uncle and grandfather wanted him safe? “Carp Tower does get snow, you’re just at my place when it happens.”

Jin Ling huffed in irritation and crossed his arms, the way he always did when Jiang Cheng failed to understand him the first time. “No, no, jiu-jiu. Home. Why doesn’t it snow at home?”

... oh.

Jiang Cheng looked away for a moment, swallowing hard at that. Lotus Pier… he’d meant Lotus Pier. His heart swelled so much it nearly broke right then and there. How ironic would it be to drop dead in the middle of Cloud Recesses because his nephew said something sweet? Especially when he’d come here for less than honorable intentions? Gods, he was such a broken fool. 

“Jiu-jiu?”

“Yunmeng is too warm,” he said, proud his voice had long mastered a sense of powerful calm no matter his feelings. He forced himself to meet Jin Ling’s curious gaze and held his hand out. “Feel this cold? It doesn’t get cold like this at Lotus Pier, does it?”

Jin Ling stuck out a hand too, feeling the air and snowfall. “No,” he said, a wrinkle in his brow.

“If it’s not cold, then it can’t snow. Snow is cold because it needs the cold, understand?”

“But why doesn’t it get cold?” Jin Ling asked, the snow forgotten as he looked up at him. “Here is cold. Why isn’t home cold?”

Another lump to swallow around. Honestly, what was wrong with him? “Do you remember your directions?” Jiang Cheng asked and walked over to a bench. He swept away the soft powder to sit on the edge of it, Jin Ling on his knee. Apparently Lan Xichen was not coming quickly, perhaps teaching a class. All the better, really. Jiang Cheng was in no hurry to leave this odd paradise he and Jin Ling had found for themselves. “Where is Lotus Pier?”

“Xi!” Jin Ling chirped immediately, puffing out his chest as he pointed out into the snow. West. Jiang Cheng nodded to let him know he was correct.

“And where is Carp Tower?”

“Bei!” North. Thank the gods Jin Ling had inherited the Jiang sense of direction. He’d once watched his brother-in-law get lost on the way to his own garden . Jiang Cheng nodded again.

“And where are we now?” he asked, bouncing his knee. “East or West?”

“Dong!” Jin Ling said, a toothy grin in place.

“Correct.” Jiang Cheng slid a piece of wayward hair back behind Jin Ling’s ear, making the boy giggle, ticklish as he was. “The further north you go, the colder it is. But also, the higher up you go, the colder it is. Yunmeng is low and flat, so it’s warm. Carp Tower sits up north and Cloud Recesses is on a mountain, so they get cold. Make sense?”

“Mountains are cold, so is north,” Jin Ling nodded along. “Home doesn’t snow because it’s west.”

Close enough. He was barely five, after all. It would not be the last time the weather would be explained to him and by tutors far more qualified to teach such things than Jiang Cheng.

“Who knew my nephew was such a studious pupil?” he huffed, tugging on Jin Ling’s ear. He got another giggle for his efforts and stood once more, starting to feel the chill. Movement definitely helped. Still, the look he cast at the guest hall was half hearted at best. “Are you getting cold, A-Ling?”

“Not yet, jiu-jiu,” Jin Ling said, ever stubborn, though his hands did not return to the air. He curled them around the fur collar of Jiang Cheng’s cloak, seeking the warmth there. Jiang Cheng bounced him just enough to keep his arm from cramping, his free hand folding over both of his nephew’s, and decided they could wait outside a little longer. He could not explain his reluctance to leave the peaceful courtyard, but found himself turning away from the buildings all the same.

“Jiu-jiu?”

“Mm?”

Jin Ling’s little head tucked under his chin. “Did ma-ma have a song for snow?”

It was odd how his day could be split so, full of petty vengeance and heartbreaking tenderness all at once. It was enough to make his stomach spin. He felt slightly ill as he walked them under the limbs of a persimmon tree, where the bright fruits stood out from under their winter caps. “She did not.”

Jin Ling hummed at that, fingers twitching under Jiang Cheng’s palm, and sat back up again with a yawn. “Does jiu-jiu have a song for snow?”

He sounded hopeful, too hopeful for Jiang Cheng to deny him a second time. Thinking hard, he picked out a simple little tune Elder Sister had always sung to him about rain, and made up his own words to fit inside. It wouldn’t be the best song, and he was far from the best singer, but Jin Ling always asked him to sing regardless and positively lit up the moment the first word was sung. When Jin Ling refused a nap, or needed to be calmed down from an injury, Jiang Cheng often played this game with him, making up songs over little things, if a song did not already exist. Jin Ling’s best connection to the memory of his mother was through music and Jiang Cheng would not be the one to deny the boy this glimpse into his mother’s love.

He stumbled through the made up lyrics, then started again, singing low so as not to be overheard. Jin Ling eagerly jumped in on some words, looking delighted, and that was worth the embarrassment. As they circled the tree, Jin Ling got more and more bold about it, until he was singing right along, off tune and flat, but beaming ear to ear, any chilliness forgotten.

That was, of course, how Lan Xichen found them, singing and giggling while covered in snowdust. Jiang Cheng had not even heard the man slide open the greeting hall doors, so there was nothing graceful about the moment he realized it, which involved him singing about the way the ice gleamed like white jade, to which Jin Ling piped up as though to sing along, but instead crowed out a very excited, “Zewu-jun!”

He wondered if he’d be more humiliated if Lan Xichen had caught him bathing. Probably not.

“Sect Leader Lan,” Jiang Cheng schooled himself into his own brand of Jiang perfection, scowl in place and a cool easiness to his stance. He ignored his burning face entirely as he bowed his head in respect.

Lan Xichen was looking at him with an almost startled amusement, something tender in his dark eyes, making them darker still. He walked down to them once it was clear he had their attention, white and blue robes sweeping over the snow, and for a moment Jiang Cheng was reminded of the old fairy tales Elder Sister had favored, so long ago, about dashing princes and beautiful gods that walked the earth. Which did nothing for his blush. Fuck.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan Xichen bowed his head in return, smiling sweetly to them both. “Young Master Jin. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, though it seems you’ve amused yourselves well enough.”

“Jiu-jiu is showing me snow,” Jin Ling told him proudly. “It’s cold! And wet!”

“It is that,” Lan Xichen said, which only made Jin Ling puff up all the more. He huffed a tiny laugh through his nose before turning to Jiang Cheng. All of him seemed to soften in a way Jiang Cheng had never seen and he hated the way it made something in him swoop in pleased confusion. “You must forgive me again, Jiang Wanyin. You’ve caught us in the middle of repairs to the storeroom roof. We hadn’t yet finished it before we got news of a storm coming in… speaking of.” He trailed off, apologetic now. “I’m afraid you may be snowed in with us for a few days.”

Jiang Cheng did his best to rein in that terrible smile, but it fought hard to return. An extended stay with a man who would be rejecting his marriage proposal within the hour? Oh, but getting his revenge was going to be so easy at this rate! “It is no matter, Zewu-jun, ” he assured him, as collected as he could make himself. “I could use some time away and I know A-Ling will enjoy playing in the snow.”

Jin Ling’s eyes widened at that, tugging on Jiang Cheng’s collar. “I can play in it?” he asked, voice hushed again in awe.

“You can,” Lan Xichen answered for him and reached out to gently adjust the boy’s fur hood, half full of snow as it was. “I see you brought a warm cloak, Young Master Jin, which is good. We just need to find you some gloves so you don’t get too cold too fast.”

Jin Ling dislodged his fingers from under Jiang Cheng’s to stare at them in careful thought. “I can play with gloves on,” he repeated, musing over that. “Because snow is cold and wet and makes you sick.”

He looked to Jiang Cheng to see if he was correct and grinned when he got two nods. “I can get gloves now? I want to play in the snow with jiu-jiu.”

Jiang Cheng bit down a sigh at that one and prayed the wonder of being in a new place would be enough to temper Jin Ling’s tendencies to rampage when told no. Gods help them all if he got into a screaming fit in a place where screaming was prohibited.

“Of course,” Lan Xichen said, with the ease of one far too used to rambunctious little ones. “But first, Young Master Jin, I asked my cooks to make you and your jiu-jiu a warm soup. Perhaps play can wait so you can eat your lunch?”

He spoke to Jin Ling like he was a miniature sect leader, not a five year old terror, and the little boy’s face went pink in joy. Jiang Cheng felt his chest bloom with gratitude for the man’s quick thinking, though he had no knowledge of how to show it, so simply stood there feeling like his tongue was too clumsy for his mouth. Thankfully, Lan Xichen’s focus seemed solely on his nephew, allowing him to fumble in private.

Jin Ling, for his part, nodded after a moment’s thought. “ Jiu-jiu is late for his lunchtime,” he agreed and bobbed his head. “I accept soup, Zewu-jun.”

“ I am late for my lunch?” Jiang Cheng sputtered, but Jin Ling just giggled in response. He bounced him in retaliation, which did nothing to stop his tiny laughter. “Brat.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes crinkled into perfect half-moons as he smiled at them, the edge of his sleeve lifting to hide his quiet breaths of laughter. It made him all the more stunning and made it even harder to keep a frown on. Unfair, that. “Shall we?” the Lan asked once Jin Ling’s giggles had quieted and gestured towards the guest hall in a graceful sweep of his hand.

Jiang Cheng fell into step with him as they moved through the snow, though paused on the threshold, uncertain where to lay out his cloak and rather soaked boots. Not to mention Jin Ling’s. All he could see were rugs and wooden floors, very expensive looking rugs and floors at that. Messing up his own home was one thing, but messing up Lan Xichen’s was something else entirely.

“You can set your cloaks here,” said Lan Xichen, a step ahead it seemed, and he gestured to a blanket rack standing in front of a roaring fireplace. Turning a sigh of relief into a soft cough, Jiang Cheng nodded and carried Jin Ling over to it while the man settled into making tea.

“Snow is very wet,” Jin Ling remarked when his cloak was removed, then his shoes, a growing puddle forming at their feet. He moved closer to the fire with a happy hum, apparently quite at home.

“Manners, A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng hooked the boy’s collar before he got out of reach and nudged him back to where Lan Xichen had taken a seat at a low table. Already, two cushions waited and Jiang Cheng gave Jin Ling a pointed look. “Go be a proper guest.”

Jin Ling made a face right back at him, but still went off obediently enough, almost shy by the time he took a seat at Lan Xichen’s side and accepted a bowl of soup from the smiling sect leader. Lan Xichen barely had to give him permission before he was picking up his spoon and eating.

Seeing Jin Ling was thoroughly distracted, Jiang Cheng took a moment to collect himself, arranging his and Jin Ling’s cloaks over the rack and setting their pairs of boots near the furnace. Pulling Sandu out of his belt, he carried it with him far more properly as he took the seat across from Lan Xichen and managed a far better thank you as a bowl was set before him as well.

Though Jiang Cheng couldn’t find much about the extravagant Jins to praise, their eating manners were rather superb. Jin Ling had always been a tidy eater because of it, if a sulky one at times, and his soft slurps were endearing but not messy. Jiang Cheng, fully aware of the Lan’s rule about eating and talking, chose to wrap his hands around his bowl to soak the warmth of it into his palms, confident in a relatively private conversation given Jin Ling knew better than to pipe up with his mouth full, a habit he often corrected Jiang Cheng of.

Lan Xichen offering him tea had his gaze back on the man and he was surprised to find that new sweetness was there again. His insides tumbled instantly.

“May I inquire as to the purpose of your visit, Jiang Wanyin?” Lan Xichen asked once he seemed to realize Jiang Cheng was putting off food in order to speak. The smile on his face grew even more tender, somehow, and Jiang Cheng felt adrift, a feeling quickly drowned out as that spike of vindictive revenge boiled into his heart all over again.

He sipped his tea calmly and let that terrible grin of his overtake his face, though it formed itself over his features as a near perfect calm this time. “I am in need of your assistance, Sect Leader Lan,” Jiang Cheng started and his bloodrate kicked up, the way it did when he was about to pick a fight and win.

Whatever Lan Xichen was reading in his expression sent a ripple of unease through the well put together man, but he nodded gamely regardless. Jiang Cheng had given such a fiery look to him only once before, during a Conference when he’d been about to tell Clan Leader Yao how utterly stupid his ideas were in the most polite way possible, and it had caused the same sort of concern that flickered in Lan Xichen’s eyes now. That signature hesitance to pick a side, even though he had already sided with Jiang Cheng. Or was at least willing to side with Jiang Cheng the moment the argument was laid out. He hoped the same would be true in this instance.

Jiang Cheng set down his teacup as though he were about to discuss something as benign as the weather. “My elders have insisted I marry a Lan.”

Lan Xichen’s eyebrows rose at that and that concern melted into amusement, just as Jiang Cheng knew it would. “A Lan would have the best chance of meeting your requirements,” he agreed in practically the same tone Jiang Cheng was using. He sipped his own tea calmly, like they were sharing tips on swordsmanship, instead of creating a joke. Only his laughing eyes gave him away. “Does Sect Leader Jiang have someone in mind, or is that why you’ve asked for my help?”

Jiang Cheng’s internal, most horrifying grin grew even wider at that. “There is one Lan I have found to match my requirements,” he said, the epitome of calm. “This Sect Leader humbly seeks permission from Sect Leader Lan to ask for their hand.”

That got more of a reaction. A soft tilt to Lan Xichen’s mouth, a curious glint in his gaze. “I gladly give it, Jiang Wanyin.” Ah, and his name that time. So only half teasing now, uncertain if it was truly real or not. Jiang Cheng reined back that vengeful glee, knowing what he said next was it, the seal to his fate, and forced himself to soften just a little, just enough, so Lan Xichen didn’t think the joke was on him. Only on Jiang Cheng. Only on his elders.

“I gladly accept your permission,” he said, smooth as silk, and bowed to the man deeply.

Lan Xichen bowed back, head tilted in obvious, albeit amused, confusion. But before he could ask or say anything more, Jiang Cheng boldly reached across the table to set his hand over Lan Xichen’s, startling him silent. He didn’t miss the way the Lan flinched, fingers twitching under Jiang Cheng’s palm. Jiang Cheng ignored it and stared hard up at Lan Xichen’s wide eyes, begging him to see the joke and join him in this mad, mad quest for revenge.

“Lan Xichen, my most esteemed Zewu-jun, would you do me the honor of becoming my cultivation partner?”

Chapter Text

The beat of utter silence that followed his words was hilarity at its finest. Lan Xichen stared at him, perplexed, ears turning red, and mouth opening and closing a few times with nothing coming out. It was the most off kilter Jiang Cheng had ever seen him and the urge to bark a laugh was startlingly strong.

Jiang Cheng reined it in smoothly by giving a simple, confident statement: “Of course, I know what I am asking is against the Lan way. I doubt your fated person is someone who would ask for an arrangement such as this. And I understand there are other reasons you should want to decline.”

The uptick of what had to be straight up panic that took over Lan Xichen’s expression got a smile out of him, despite his efforts to bite it down. He slowly retracted his hand and pulled that vengeful calm over himself again. “When have two Sect Leaders ever wed, to start. How would that even be managed? What a nightmare for my council to even consider.”

He shot Lan Xichen a very, very, very pointed look at that and waited a breath. It was enough. Lan Xichen blinked, confused and worried one second, then his shoulders slowly eased the next as understanding dawned in his expression. Though, Jiang Cheng noted, the blush dusting his ears and cheeks remained. He had to wonder if this was perhaps the first time someone had asked to marry him, and so boldly. He’d have to think of some way to apologize after this.

“We are both men, so there would be no heirs,” Jiang Cheng continued, putting on a show of appearing thoughtful. Lan Xichen’s mouth slowly curved into a smile, which felt even more like winning and he was just getting started. “At least, not blood heirs. And how scandalous would we look as sudden cut sleeves? I would be asking you to put your pristine reputation on the line for this, especially since I’m taking a great leap in assuming you’d even accept such a relationship. I understand if that is too much to ask of you.”

A calm sip of tea. “Not to mention all your disciples will hunt me down for sport,” Jiang Cheng added in deadpan afterthought. “My council may enjoy that, however.”

Lan Xichen huffed his signature nose-laugh, shaking his head, and retook his own cup of tea. “I see you have put much thought into this, Sect Leader Jiang.” Back to titles, which meant he was back in the game and willing to play along. Jiang Cheng wondered if the cultivation world would survive the knowledge that their epitome of courtly beauty and perfection was actually a bit of a trickster. He had to fight down another bout of wicked laughter.

“How could I not? I know what I’m asking here.” Jiang Cheng set down his cup and wrapped his hands around the warm bowl of soup to anchor himself, because honestly, he hadn’t given nearly enough thought in this to merit the conviction in his heart. “Marriage arrangements are not entered on a whim, after all, even the properly arranged ones. It is quite a burden of duty to add to the both of us.”

Lan Xichen nodded, something soft in his face. He reached over to take Jiang Cheng’s empty cup and refilled it. “I must admit to being surprised to make the cut,” he said, grace personified as he set the tea back down without it shaking. The glance he leveled Jiang Cheng with was both curious and amused. “I would’ve expected to fall short of at least a few of your requirements.”

“You give yourself too little credit, Sect Leader Lan,” Jiang Cheng huffed, his own ears starting to sting with heat. “You met all but one, in fact, and I’m willing to overlook it.”

“Oh?” He looked genuinely surprised at that, which was ridiculous. Jiang Cheng’s council had sent every sect his list of requirements in the earlier stages of their campaign to see him wed. He knew one had been sent to GusuLan, which meant Lan Xichen had read them over at least once. How could he not see he was a good fit? “How kind of you, Sect Leader Jiang, to forfeit such a thing on my behalf.”

“It wasn’t hard.” Why was this getting too honest? Jiang Cheng firmly shifted the conversation before he embarrassed them both. He had a point to make here, after all. “It is your standards that I worry about. I know waiting for your fated partner is important to you. Honestly, the fact my council even pushed me in this direction shows how ignorant to your ways they are. I’m ashamed to call them my Elders, truly. Should Sect Leader Lan refuse me on those grounds alone, I would more than understand.”

Another little laugh at that one. At least Lan Xichen was finding some enjoyment in this charade if nothing else, though the smile he gave Jiang Cheng was a tad too tender to be purely for the joke. His insides twisted into a confused coil at the sight.

“It’s true, we Lan take pride in our choosing of love over political ties,” Lan Xichen said, his slender fingers running patterns down the sides of his cup, like he was playing soundless music on his xiao . “But there have been a few exceptions over time. Surely it is desperation and not pure ignorance that pushed your council to us?”

Jiang Cheng’s jaw clenched and he glared down at his bowl to focus on slowing his breathing. “Desperate or not, they should know better.”

Lan Xichen hummed in agreement and there was no shortage of relief in knowing he had someone like the First Jade of Lan on his side. “They should know better than to push you. You have made your requirements clear and in regards to raising Young Master Jin, no one should blame you for taking your time in your own marriage. Surely, Sect Leader Jiang is too busy for that.”

“Which is why I’ve come to you,” Jiang Cheng said. There was no getting away with honesty, it seemed, not in regards to Lan Xichen. “You understand me best. Even in refusing, you aid my cause.”

“And if I do not, you still win.”

“Exactly.” Jiang Cheng let that vengeful fury die down just a little, so Lan Xichen could see his true exhaustion and spite. He shot the man a grim smile. “They want me to marry a Lan. They never specified which Lan. Their mistake.”

“It is a rather bold prospect.” Lan Xichen’s fingers had stilled, but the tea swayed inside in a circular motion, the cloudy bubbles shifting until they took the shape of a rabbit, hopping gracefully from one side of the rim to the other. “Our Clans have never intermarried. We’ve held a long history of friendship and cooperation, but our family lines have never crossed. You’d be making quite the statement taking me as a bride, Jiang Wanyin.”

“Or not,” Jiang Cheng pointed out, embarrassed heat prickling in his cheeks as he watched the silhouetted rabbit play in the bubbles of Lan Xichen’s tea. Saying that so shamelessly... “Just asking you is enough to make them spit blood for eternity.”

“Which is the point, I gather,” Lan Xichen’s smile was sweet, but tinged with sadness. “If you ruin your reputation like this, you may never marry...”

“I know what I’m asking.” And, indeed, he did. He glanced down at his nephew’s face, his big, wide eyes, and felt his resolution harden all the more. To be alone for the rest of his life was a small price to pay to make sure Jin Ling never questioned his place in Jiang Cheng’s heart. End of story. “I’m ready to face the consequences.”

Lan Xichen went quiet at that, empathy softening his face, as well as worry, though his smile stayed sweet. His tea smoothed out as he looked between uncle and nephew, then the man was sighing softly, in resignation, perhaps, since he had to know Jin Ling was the reason Jiang Cheng was even doing this, and closed his eyes. His tender heart would sympathize with Jiang Cheng, he knew, but he would not stand in the way. Of that Jiang Cheng was certain.

True enough, after a long moment of quiet contemplation, Lan Xichen collected himself and suddenly they were back in the game. "This is Sect Leader Jiang’s formal proposal, then?"

Jiang Cheng sat up tall and nodded once, ready for his reputation to shatter. It was not as terrifying a prospect as it probably should have been. Jin Ling gave him reserves of strength and stubbornness that surprised even him. "It is, Sect Leader Lan."

A little huffed laugh, a bow of his head. Then those smiling eyes were on him, gleaming under long lashes. Jiang Cheng felt caught even before the words were out. "Then this Sect Leader humbly accepts."

He... what now?

Jiang Cheng was halfway through an answering bow when he registered just what Lan Xichen had agreed to. His head snapped up with such force he felt something twinge. "You what?"

"I accept," Lan Xichen repeated himself, now the only blissfully calm adult in the room. He sipped at his tea, obviously pleased with himself. "I will marry you, Jiang Wanyin. That is, if the offer still stands?"

Jiang Cheng stared at him, red faced and absolutely thrown. "...yes?" He wasn’t even sure what he was remarking on: answering the question or just dumbly echoing Lan Xichen’s acceptance.

Lan Xichen nodded once, taking what he wanted from that uncertain syllable. That was that, apparently. Jiang Cheng had no idea how he'd lost control of the conversation, nor how to get it back, and Lan Xichen was clearly not letting him have it. "Then I accept my new role as your betrothed, Jiang Wanyin, as long as Young Master Jin also agrees."

Jin Ling looked up at that, eyes wide and spoon still in his mouth. “Mmf?” he squeaked, for once breaking his own eating rules when he realized both men were staring down at him, one in horror, the other in smiling serenity.

“Young Master Jin, may I have your permission to marry your jiu-jiu?” Lan Xichen asked, obviously mad with power. Jiang Cheng felt the blood rush to his face fast enough he felt a vein throb with the pressure and wondered if he’d bleed out completely if it burst. If only fate would be so kind.

It was in a mix of mortification and utter panic that Jiang Cheng watched his nephew slowly set his spoon down and look up at him in thought, then across to Lan Xichen.

“Only if you promise to be nice,” Jin Ling said after a moment with his best serious face on, all imperious eyebrows and pouty mouth. Jiang Cheng had seen him use the same expression on his baby cousin when he’d explained how to properly plant a lotus seed, even though A-Song was too young to understand a word he’d said. “Jiu-jiu needs someone nice.”

Lan Xichen took that in seriously, because he was an absolute madman. “You have my word, Young Master Jin.”

Jiang Cheng slapped a hand over his eyes and groaned, unable to look at either of their gleeful faces without feeling like he was going to explode. It didn’t quite save him from the giggles and huffed laughter. He settled for glaring hotly at Lan Xichen over his fingertips.

“Why?” he asked, more combative than he’d meant to sound. “Why would you say yes?”

The rabbit was once again leaping through Lan Xichen’s tea. He looked rather peaceful, calm in the face of Jiang Cheng’s rising storm. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Jiang Cheng gripped his bowl tightly, wishing the heat in his face would seep out of him and back into his soup, which was approaching lukewarm now. “I can give you many, many reasons.”

A careless hum. Did this man have any idea what he was currently doing to Jiang Cheng’s heart? “Please do, so I may consider and disregard them one by one.”

Jiang Cheng felt a smile twitch his mouth, twisted and unhappy, disbelieving. “You’re insane.”

“Then why did you ask me to marry you?” Lan Xichen said, openly teasing now, but not unkindly. There was  a depth of sadness in his eyes as he regarded him. “Were you so certain I’d say no?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng huffed, almost angry, because it was obviously the most logical choice. For Lan Xichen to choose otherwise… what could he possibly be after, agreeing to this insanity?

“If you wish to break the betrothal, by all means,” Lan Xichen murmured, somber but earnest. “It will only be by your hands, however, not mine. I’ve made my choice. If you wish to continue with this plan, that is my requirement.”

“You want me to be your husband,” Jiang Cheng said, not even asking it, his tone flat and furious.

Lan Xichen gave no quarter, matching him sneer to smile. “I would consider it an honor, yes.”

“You want me to be your husband ,” he tried again, edging now on desperate confusion, but Lan Xichen’s expression did not waver.

“Yes.” So calm, so collected. Who gave him the damned right to steal Jiang Cheng’s breath so completely?

Why me? Jiang Cheng wanted to shout, but the words lodged in his throat when Jin Ling stared up at him, hopeful, but starting to look uncertain. He closed his eyes and did his best to breathe, feeling the liquid fire of panic dripping down his chest, and tapped his fingers on the bowl the way Lan Xichen had done to direct that panic-fire into the soup. It swirled as it sucked in his energy and he imagined it was draining away, each deep breath driving it farther and farther into his hands, into the soup, making it steam once more.

As bubbles formed, he focused harder, giving that fear a shape. A ripple of cloudy soup turned into a bolting horse, caught in place, desperately running and running and getting nowhere. The harder it ran, the more the soup boiled, but still it made no progress, trapped endlessly in the center.

Warm hands cupped around his before it all sloshed over and the horse fizzled out into puffy steam clouds. “Jiang Wanyin.”

Jiang Cheng breathed out slowly and glanced up at Lan Xichen, at his worried eyes and gentle face. Then over to Jin Ling, who had his hand wrapped about his sash, giving it a tug, grounding him back into the moment.

“Jiu-jiu?”

Calm, he had to be calm. “I’m alright, A-Ling.”

And why shouldn’t he be? he reasoned to himself, angry at his lapse of control, and forcefully attacked his rising fear with cold logic. So what if the First Jade of Lan was crazy? Jiang Cheng would still get what he wanted, wouldn’t he? There would still be scandal, there would still be chaos in his council. There was even the possibility of an early death if Lan Qiren felt so inclined, and only if Lan Wangji didn’t murder him beforehand. Not so bad.

He could hold out long enough for Lan Xichen to get wise and leave him like everyone else had done. That was all there was to it. They would never make it to the ceremony. He was not the kind of man Lan Xichen needed at his side and he’d eventually realize it. He couldn’t be that foolish. And even if he was, surely he’d be talked out it all before they even set a proper date?

“You do realize we have to figure out how to be married and be sect leaders at the same time?” Jiang Cheng said, voice trembling and strained, but there and growing stronger as he let that conviction flood back into him. Lan Xichen’s smile was like the sun on his face and he felt himself pull towards it, like a lotus blooming open in the light, helpless.

“No, we do not,” Lan Xichen said, a rush of calming qi slipping through his palms into Jiang Cheng’s hands, further relaxing him. The soup settled from its boiling state, but the bubbles persisted and started to move. The rabbit again, playfully leaping around the rim.

Jiang Cheng smiled tightly in spite of himself. “Don’t we?” 

“I believe that is a problem for your council to deal with, as well as my own,” Lan Xichen said, a bit vindictive, and Jiang Cheng huffed a soft breath of laughter. A trickster and a sly fox, all hidden in the embodiment of beauty and refinement himself. He’d unleashed a monster, hadn’t he?

“You really are insane,” Jiang Cheng murmured, staring down at the soup-rabbit as it frollicked. Jin Ling, having abandoned the last spoonfuls of his own to wiggle off his seat, climbed into his lap and snuggled in. For his own comfort or Jiang Cheng’s, he wasn’t sure, but he focused on soothing down his spiritual energy even more, until it reached the same gentle flux he used when he rocked Jin Ling to sleep. It rippled over the soup between his palms and the horse returned, trotting alongside the playful rabbit, just to make Jin Ling smile again.

Lan Xichen tilted his head to see it, that sweet tenderness in his face forming a yawning ache in Jiang Cheng’s chest that made it hard to breathe all over again. “Maybe so. But it’s only fair, I feel. You chose me on a whim, I get to choose you the same way.”

“A well-thought out whim,” Jiang Cheng defended, though it was half hearted and rather unresisting. The more Lan Xichen looked at him like that, the more he felt himself surrender. It felt like freefall; like breathing after holding his breath too long, painful and necessary, all at once.

Lan Xichen gave a small nod but did not pull away, just let his qi guide Jiang Cheng’s from a raging river to a calm, trickling stream. Slowly, the other swaths of bubbles around the playful soup animals formed into patches of lotus flowers, blooming together in clusters. The rabbit and horse slowed their pace and met in the middle, nose meeting nose, their respective clouds dissipating upon the touch and scattering out in more lotuses, until Jiang Cheng’s soup looked more like the lakes of home than the broth it had been.

“Not much has to change,” Lan Xichen told him softly, watching the lotus-clouds drift around. “This arrangement has only as much meaning to it as we allow it to have. Let your council figure out the logistics and how to deal with everything else. For now, consider my home a safe haven for you and Young Master Jin. Come and go as you please without worry of what the world will think of us.”

Jiang Cheng shook his head in wonderment, feeling the last of his misgivings fade away under a wash of warm qi against his fingertips. He should not trust Lan Xichen so easily, but he did. Perhaps, for once, he didn’t have to wonder why. “Only if my home can be the same for you. We are partners, so what is mine is yours. That is my requirement if you’re really insisting on this.”

He wondered if he was just imagining the pleased look in Lan Xichen’s dark eyes. His fingers were squeezed, warmth flooding over his skin at the contact. “Partners,” the Lan agreed, nodding once. “What is mine is yours.”

Jiang Cheng breathed in deep at that, letting it fill him up, from toes to the top of his head, and let it all go, slow and steady. “So… apparently I’m getting married,” he said, flat.

He got a huff of laughter for his effort. “Truly, Jiang Wanyin? You must tell me about this lucky bride.”

“Utterly shameless,” Jiang Cheng scoffed, which only made the man smile sweeter. Ridiculous.

Jin Ling tugged on his robe, thankfully drawing his attention away. “Jiu-jiu?”

“Mn?”

“Zewu-jun is jiu-ma now?”

Jiang Cheng choked on his own air. His nephew, calling the First Jade of Lan auntie. The First Jade of Lan who he was going to marry. As in betrothed. Because this was his life now.

“I regret everything,” he grouched, an instant headache forming just trying to wrap around the logistics of just what Lan Xichen should be called by his nephew for propriety's sake. He was pretty sure the word didn’t even exist . “I take it all back.”

Lan Xichen was not helping in the slightest. Clearly, he was engaged to a traitor. “Young Master Jin can call me whatever he wishes.”

Jin Ling beamed in happiness, snuggling in with his ear to Jiang Cheng’s chest, right over his heartbeat. “Jiu-jiu is going to get married to jiu-ma ,” he said around a yawn. “I can go to the wedding?”

If Jiang Cheng had his way, Jin Ling would be the only one there. Not that it was going to happen anyway. He sighed tiredly. “Yes, A-Ling, you can go to the wedding.”

The little boy huddled in all the more, sighing a happy sigh to match. Jiang Cheng carefully freed a hand to wrap around him, securing him in place.

"Falling asleep?"

"Not tired, jiu-jiu," he was assured, though Jin Ling's eyes were starting to blink closed, the excitements of the day and a full belly catching up to him at last. Not quite old enough to quit naps, it seemed. "Jiu-jiu?"

Jiang Cheng sighed again, heat crawling up his neck, and prayed Jin Ling wouldn't forget their audience. "What is it?"

Jin Ling did not seem to care they weren’t alone. He played with the ends of Jiang Cheng’s hair with a sleepy smile like they were back at Lotus Pier, sitting at the fireplace, Jin Ling settled in for a nap just like this while Jiang Cheng worked. "Did ma-ma have a song for weddings?"

Lan Xichen was smiling too sweetly, which made his face go hot all over again. If he survived this day with any dignity left, it'd be a miracle. "She did," he said, unable to lie, but wishing he had not undressed. If ever there was a time to run away from a situation, it was now.

Thankfully, Lan Xichen took pity on him and moved off to replenish the teapot and give them some privacy, though it had to be half full still. Jiang Cheng swallowed down a lump of gratitude and closed his eyes, focusing on the tiny warmth cuddled against him, the little hand curling in his robes and hair. He sang softly, as soft as he could get away with, and did his best to convince himself it wasn't embarrassing. He was just soothing a child to sleep. What was wrong with that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

Lan Xichen took his time, in no hurry to interrupt. Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure if he wanted to be thankful for that or not. He felt far too vulnerable like this, showing this side of himself that belonged solely to Jin Ling. He kept his eyes stubbornly shut to block everything else out, if only so he didn’t die of embarrassment on the spot.

He could hear the man’s soft steps move from room to room, checking the kettle, then shifting to a back area where Jiang Cheng assumed there was a window, or perhaps a door. As he started up another song, three full melodies in, he heard the slide of lattice and the hint of Lan Xichen’s low voice. Door, then. There was soft murmuring, then the door slid shut. Back to the kitchen, the clatter of the kettle.

Lan Xichen did not return to the table until Jiang Cheng stopped singing. He folded himself neatly into his seat and filled Jiang Cheng’s tea without comment, then touched the soup bowl to warm it back up with a swirl of energy.

“It seems I was right to warn you about the possibility of being snowed in with us,” Lan Xichen told him, as though the fearsome, heartless Sandu Shengshou hadn’t been singing to a five year old in the middle of his home. He sipped his tea with a furrow in his brow. “It’s the first major storm of the winter and it’s come early this year.”

Ah, that’s right. He had been repairing a roof, hadn’t he? “Will your storehouse be ready in time?”

Lan Xichen offered him a lopsided, slightly helpless little smile. “I would not know one way or the other I fear. Shamefully, I’ve no mind for building of any kind. The disciples and servants have banded together. I can only trust they’ll do what they can.”

Jiang Cheng snorted a little, careful not to jostle Jin Ling, who was starting to softly snore against his heartbeat. “The First Jade of Lan admits to a skill he does not possess?”

“I trust my betrothed will not expose me,” Lan Xichen teased right back. It was cruel, truly, how everything he said had heat flushing through Jiang Cheng’s body like that. Gods.

Jiang Cheng traced a finger down his spoon in an effort to compose himself, then slowly set it in the bowl. “I can fix it for you,” he offered, falling back on what he was confident in to wrestle back some control. “I’ve lost track of all the homes and shops I’ve rebuilt during flood season. A storehouse would be little problem.”

“I could not ask you to do that,” Lan Xichen was quick to say. “And I don’t wish to disturb Young Master Jin from his nap.”

“He’ll only be asleep for about an hour,” Jiang Cheng told him. “When is the storm due in?”

“Tonight,” Lan Xichen admitted, though still looked like he wanted to talk Jiang Cheng out of it. “You are my guest. You do not need to trouble yourself.”

“What trouble?” Jiang Cheng waved that off with a scoff. “Just consider it a betrothal gift.” It was easier than he thought it would be, saying that word, and lifted the full spoon to his lips to show the argument was over.

Lan Xichen, for his part, just breathed out a laugh, all sweetness and gratitude at his stubborn showing. “Well, when Jiang Wanyin says it like that, how can I refuse?”

Chapter Text

Lan Xichen had often dreamed of his wedding day. He had never been as romantic as his baby brother was, but he’d admit gladly that his heart was soft for romance all the same. He’d never questioned that the one to stand with him at the altar would be a person of his choosing, who’d accepted his love and all he was and loved him in return. A golden dream he’d dreamed up as a child and had carried on, resilient to the lessons life gave to him along the way.

Love was like a handful of seeds, ready to be planted in the hearts of people within one’s life. As a young teenager, caught in the throes of his first heartbreak, he’d made a promise to himself: to always, always listen to his heart. If he felt it move for one person or another, that was where he’d plant his seeds. No hesitation. Happiness could be that easy, he’d believed with everything he was; he only had to try.

But then Wangji had fallen in love with a man who’d rebelled, been hunted down and ultimately killed, and that had made him doubtful for the first time of such golden, naive things.

Love was not always kind, he knew that much. Had known it from the moment Uncle had explained to him as a tiny child why his mother lived in one house and his father in another. Love could be cruel and held too much power over the heart, a power that could make one unendingly happy, or unendingly unhappy, depending on how it was used. It was a treasure, meant to be treasured, but in all his life thus far it’d meant only destruction.

To love one truly, one had to choose. Wangji had chosen and it had cost him, not only pain and three years of his life to seclusion, but Wei Wuxian, who’s passing still shrouded his brother like a mourning veil, a ghost that never left his side. Despite it all, Wangji still loved, still hung on, and followed the lonely treks of the world, hoping and wishing for the impossible because of it.

Lan Xichen had not dreamed of his own wedding since the moment Wangji had been forced into the Back Hill. And now…

He wondered if he was as insane as Jiang Cheng had accused him of being upon accepting his proposal. In many ways, he couldn’t even argue against it. Lan Xichen had seen the joke easily enough, for certain, and they both knew it would have been so simple to give Jiang Cheng the out he’d been expecting. But he hadn’t.

Jiang Cheng had a way of moving in and out of his life like a thunderclap. Brilliant and loud for a moment, then gone the next with only the distant rumble echoing behind him to showcase he’d been there at all. Untouchable, unattainable, yet so very human all the same. Lan Xichen was more than aware of what their peers thought of him, their fearsome Sandu Shengshou, knew how much they feared his temper and power to inspire the masses.

One only had to look at the YunmengJiang Sect to know how truly special Jiang Cheng actually was. His disciples were endlessly loyal, despite how harsh Jiang Cheng could be, and his people sang his praises, even as the rest of the world muttered in dark corners about him. Lan Xichen knew him to be a fair leader, never asking more of his people than he himself was willing to give, and continuously gave to them. He was scoffed at in court for being out in the mud repairing houses and using his formidable cultivation to redirect killing currents back to the rivers. Lan Xichen even held a letter detailing a month of Jiang Cheng’s stubbornness to refuse to let a rice field dry up when the farmer and his family tending it had fallen under an illness brought on by the resentful energy of a deceased rival. Most leaders would have stopped at healing the family, but Jiang Cheng had not. The murmurings in various courts had been cruel at best and full of worry following that.

Lan Xichen allowed a few uncharitable thoughts to speak at that, then pushed them away. Jiang Cheng was a true leader, who’s ambition lay solely in his own sect. If people were not so desperate to fear him and his potential, they’d see he was not a threat.

They’d see he was tired, frustrated, alone. They’d see his own council distrusted him, no matter what Jiang Cheng did, because he was too much like his mother - vicious, cutting, uncontrollable. He had no interest in furthering his political strength within the court like so many others. He was confident in his sect, confident in his people, and that was good enough for him. He should not have been driven to this at all. He should not have had to make a choice between his reputation and peace, because he would always sacrifice himself. That was just who he was.

Jiang Cheng’s frustration and confusion upon Lan Xichen’s acceptance had hurt. It was excruciating to think that a man who gave so much to the world and to those around him without a thought could think he wasn’t good enough. Grief had encased Jiang Cheng’s heart in stone, had made him volatile, stern, and aloof, but just because he’d hardened himself did not mean he was not a good man, worthy of love.

But was it love that Lan Xichen wanted to give?

He remembered Jiang Cheng’s schooling days, how bright he was, how quick to smile, laugh, and shamelessly get pulled into trouble. He’d been just a boy among many others, enjoying his life, his friends and his family. There had been sunlight in his smile, stars in his eyes, and a sweetness in his soul. Lan Xichen had spent countless time just watching him - his indulging annoyance of Wei Wuxian’s plots, his resigned patience with Nie Huaisang’s endless questions - and wondered, often, what sort of man he would grow up to be surrounded by such laughter and love. He’d imagined, at the time, a Jiang Cheng not this drastically different, but more as he was then, full of good humor and fond exasperation.

Love had destroyed him as well, in ways that broke Lan Xichen’s heart to see. That endless brightness had died down to little more than a candle, sputtering as the wax slowly melted away. He feared that, one day, it would be gone forever and no one would notice, not even Jiang Cheng himself. A fear that remained steadfastly inside him, a cold stone in his chest.

Opening the door to find Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling walking in the snow had been a revelation. Lan Xichen could still see the tenderness in Jiang Cheng’s eyes as he’d looked up at his nephew, see the snow caught on his lashes. Bathed in fluttering light and Jin Ling’s laughter, he’d been simply radiant, himself. Happy. 

It’d stolen his breath in an instant. The song the pair had been singing had been silly, unrefined, and too far away to understand, but it’d reached him in disorganized beats as Jin Ling sang along louder and louder, smiling brightly all the while. Lans held the innate ability to connect to all the music of the world and this one had gone right into his soul, warming him as though Jiang Cheng were singing to him as well as Jin Ling, lost in their own little world.

And that’s when he’d felt it, his heart aching with a want so profound he had no name for it. Do not let his smile vanish, everything in him had whispered. Do not let his smile die away.

Even before Jiang Cheng had started in on his game, before a word between them had been spoken, when he’d just realized Lan Xichen had seen him and had pulled his careful masks back on, dotted with snow and embarrassed and absolutely beautiful… Lan Xichen had chosen.

He didn’t even know what he wanted other than to make sure Jiang Cheng had someone who wouldn’t leave him. And now, he reasoned, he had the perfect way to do it.

Marriage was not what he’d expected Jiang Cheng to offer, fake or otherwise, but his heart had not let him refuse. Knowing Jiang Cheng had resigned himself to be alone, more than likely for Jin Ling’s benefit, when he’d already lost so much had made accepting far easier than it should have been. Lan Xichen knew the news would not land well with nearly anyone he could imagine. Uncle would try to make him see sense, for one, and Wangji would disapprove completely, not to mention his own council of elders. They’d be just as upset as Jiang Cheng’s, as would the court and countless sect leaders he’d have to face with his actions.

He tried to care, he really did. There was guilt in knowing he was about to inconvenience people he cared about and loved, but Lan Xichen would be lying if he said it wasn’t almost thrilling at the same time to stand on that edge of impropriety without truly stepping over it; treading that line between what was acceptable and what wasn’t, a scandal that literally no one could argue against.

Da-ge had teased him once that he’d hit his rebellious streak in his adult years, since he hadn’t had a proper “teenaged rebellion” he insisted was a vital part of every young man’s life. Lan Xichen had dismissed it as the usual ribbing between friends at the time, but it seemed Nie Mingjue had known him better than he’d thought. He would have most likely been the only one to laugh about this whole situation, if he were still here, as Huaisang would now. The thought should not have been as soothing as it was, curled in as it was around that still fresh pain.

A-Yao would be concerned and confused, but supportive. They’d often sat and talked about Jiang Cheng and he knew Jin Guangyao greatly admired the Jiang sect leader, which was a point in favor of this whole plan even making it to the altar. And if A-Yao was in his corner, then Lan Xichen knew the rest of the cultivation world would follow, even if they’d grumble all the while about doing so. A-Yao’s standing, and therefore his approval, would give Lan Xichen the social acceptance needed to pull off a wedding worthy of the history they were about to make. He wondered if he was supposed to feel more guilty than he did about that.

Wangji was who he worried about most. It was no secret that his brother and Jiang Cheng held a mutual distaste for each other, compounded by their connection to Wei Wuxian - one left behind, the other the reason for the detachment. And even if all that resentment could be set aside, at the end of everything, it had been Jiang Cheng who had made Wei Wuxian fall off the cliff to his death, and Lan Xichen knew Wangji would never forgive Jiang Cheng for it, not even if Wei Wuxian miraculously rose from the dead the way it was feared he would. Nor would Lan Xichen ask him to. He knew his brother was stubborn and driven by his grief and anger and love, but Wangji would not stop the wedding either, no matter his misgivings. He just hoped explaining his reasons would keep a rift forming between Wangji and himself, or Jiang Cheng would definitely pull away then and that light inside him could be lost forever. He wasn’t sure what prospect scared him more.

There was some solace to be had that Wangji was on a Night Hunt, somewhere out in the world, which meant he had time to prepare himself for that conversation and simply settled on the now.

It had been an hour, and just as Jiang Cheng had promised Jin Ling was starting to awaken, sleepily grumbling into Jiang Cheng’s chest as he did so. Like a well-timed dance, Jiang Cheng finished off his third cup of tea and set it aside, then caught Jin Ling’s hand when the boy reached out.

“Jiu-jiu?”

“I’m here,” Jiang Cheng told him, voice low and soothing. It trembled through the table between them, sending a ripple through Lan Xichen’s tea and making his fingers tingle.

Jin Ling held Jiang Cheng’s hand a moment, as though he had to make sure it was really there, then yawned, patting at Jiang Cheng’s palm. “I’m here too, jiu-jiu.”

“You are.” There was a sad glint in Jiang Cheng’s eyes, but a sweetness too, even though his lips frowned. He reached over to tug at Jin Ling’s lopsided ponytail. “Get up, I need to stretch my legs.”

It was fascinating to watch them, how tactile Jiang Cheng actually was with Jin Ling, even though he was not overly affectionate in a traditional sense. Lan Xichen was used to the Jins dealing with the rambunctious five year old, a very hands off, calm talking sort of upbringing. When Jin Ling threw a tantrum, for example, he was passed off to his small army of nannies to wait out the storm.

Jiang Cheng was opposite. He let Jin Ling climb all over him and often talked curtly. Lan Xichen had to wonder if he dealt with all of Jin Ling’s ups and downs personally. The ease and understanding between them seemed proof of it. Jin Ling’s personality was blooming beautifully, far more loud and boisterous than he was around A-Yao, and as Lan Xichen listened to Jiang Cheng encourage a different, perhaps more appropriate title than auntie , Jin Ling did not hesitate to question him, unafraid to ask for further explanation. It was endearing and good to see, this connection they had that was all for them, and he hoped this impromptu marriage would not affect it.

Lan Xichen collected the empty cups and kettle to give Jiang Cheng some privacy to stand and stretch and found he had been followed into the side room. The little tug on his robe had his heart melting instantly. 

"Jiu-mu?" Ah, it seemed Jiang Cheng had succeeded in correcting his title somewhat. It was even cuter now.

Lan Xichen smiled down at him. "Yes, Young Master Jin?"

Jin Ling had such expressive eyes. How did anyone get anything done in his presence? Goodness. "I can play in the snow now? With gloves?"

"A-Ling." Even from across the room, Jiang Cheng's warning glare was quelling. "Ask properly."

Jin Ling puffed out his cheeks and looked rebellious for all of three seconds before he tried again. "Jiu-mu. I can play in the snow? Please."

“As it so happens, I think I do have a pair of gloves to fit you,” Lan Xichen said, doing his best not to chuckle at how brightly the boy lit up at his words. He moved slowly into the room nearest the door, mindful of the fact Jin Ling still had a grip on him, and shifted through a few pairs of mittens he’d been able to find during the time Jiang Cheng had eaten his soup. Looking at them now, they appeared too big, and that in turn made his heart do a funny flip in his chest.

He knelt down and offered a dark blue pair, the smallest of the bunch, hand-woven wool lined in fleece. “Shall we see if these fit you?”

Jin Ling nodded, enthusiastic, and stuck his hands out. Carefully, Lan Xichen tucked his tiny fingers into the mittens and huffed a laugh to see they were still too big. Ah well, the fit was close enough.

“These will keep your fingers warm, but still be careful,” Lan Xichen warned him softly, tying them in place around the boy’s wrists.

Jin Ling watched him all the while, intrigued. “Because snow is wet?”

“And very cold,” Lan Xichen agreed. “When your gloves get wet, you’ll get cold faster, so when you start to get too cold, let me know.”

“Okay!” Jin Ling beamed, rubbing his fingers together through the fabric with awe. He turned to wave them at Jiang Cheng. “Jiu-jiu, look! Gloves!”

“What do you say to Sect Leader Lan?” Jiang Cheng huffed at that, another pointed glare on his face.

Jin Ling was back to grinning up at Lan Xichen as though his uncle wasn’t glowering, practically vibrating on the spot. “Thanks for gloves, jiu-mu!”

“I’m glad we had a pair that fit,” Lan Xichen smiled and gently chucked Jin Ling’s chin, making him giggle. The quiet, heavy approach of easy footsteps had him looking up to see Jiang Cheng was watching him in the archway, Jin Ling’s fur cloak in the cook of his arm, and a soft, almost peaceful look in his eyes. Lan Xichen’s smile warmed considerably to see it, despite the fierce gallop his heart was beating that made it hard to breathe.

A soft cough, a flush in his cheeks, and Jiang Cheng handed him Jin Ling’s shoes, though kept up that warning glare to keep the boy still. It worked for the most part, given Lan Xichen got them on without much trouble, though he had to wonder if it was Jiang Cheng’s expression or the fact Jin Ling was happily engaged in clapping his mittened hands that really kept him still. In either case, by the time Lan Xichen straightened the boy’s trousers out, his heart ached like it was going to burst in his chest, and he had to stand up just to breathe, it felt so full.

“A-Ling, coat.” Jiang Cheng shook it out once and Jin Ling was instantly folding into it, squirming his arms in as fast as he could. Somehow in all that movement, Jiang Cheng managed to tie the cloak on him properly and tuck his hood over his head, then the little boy was bolting for the door. Jiang Cheng didn’t even look up, focused as he was on unfolding his own cloak, but his voice was perfectly stern. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Jiu-jiu, you’re so slow!” Jin Ling pouted, but nonetheless stopped himself from disappearing outside. Jiang Cheng shook his head and slipped his cloak on, muttering under his breath about impatient brats that had Lan Xichen helplessly smiling.

“Where is the storehouse?” Jiang Cheng asked, his usual scowl in place. Lan Xichen hoped he wasn’t just imagining the smile in his eyes.

“Past the kitchens,” Lan Xichen told him, grateful for the distraction of business and wrapping in his own furs to calm his emotions. “On the side nearest the guest dormitories.”

That got him a nod, then Jiang Cheng was pulling back the door to gesture him through. Jin Ling’s face lit up with glee as he looked out at all the white, but didn’t quite manage to move after Lan Xichen until Jiang Cheng gave him a careful push out.

The crunch of snow under his boots had Jin Ling gasping. “Jiu-jiu!”

“I know, A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng sighed and carefully slid the door closed. “Watch your step. Don’t slip.”

Jin Ling did a cursory circle around a couple trees, then quickly ran back to Jiang Cheng as they moved off the pathway. Lan Xichen didn’t miss the way Jiang Cheng instinctively stretched his fingers a little so Jin Ling could grasp his pinkie, even hindered as his grip was in the mittens, and Jin Ling instantly anchored there, like it was his usual place to be, side by side with Jiang Cheng.

Lan Xichen felt an odd lump in his throat at the sight. Truly, how could anyone see this and not lose their heart completely? He felt almost cheated that he’d never seen the pair like this before, without the eyes of the Jin court watching them, tempering their routines. But now that he had, he was determined to keep it.

He was marrying Jiang Cheng, the thought hit him all over again, a spark of excitement lighting up inside his soul. He would be allowed to keep this. He couldn’t stop his smile from growing at that.

As though reading the joy on his face, Jiang Cheng softly cleared his throat and asked just low enough for Lan Xichen to hear, “So, how exactly do we tell everyone?”

How indeed. “If the plan is to stress your council, wouldn’t it be more entertaining to simply let it slip in passing?”

If Jiang Cheng’s eyes had been smiling before, they were downright gleaming now. “We could let A-Ling call you jiu-mu in front of everyone,” he offered, perfectly calm and utterly wicked. Da-ge had definitely been right about that delayed rebellious stage.

Lan Xichen smiled down at Jin Ling, who was still enraptured by the scenery. It gave him the impression of a kite floating hither and thither on every whim of the skies, yet still tethered to the earth by a single string. “I would not object to that. We will need to make more formal plans in the future, but for now why can’t we enjoy ourselves?”

“You are far more sly than people realize, Zewu-jun,” Jiang Cheng said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“As are you, Sandu Shengshou,” Lan Xichen teased right back, though the hated title felt leaden on his tongue. He immediately resolved to never say it again. “We will need to alter our styles of one another as well.”

That had another blush dusting Jiang Cheng’s face. “You already call me Jiang Wanyin,” he murmured, as though that were familiar enough. Considering the sparse company he actually kept, perhaps it truly was.

Lan Xichen considered that quietly, not quite sure why it hurt his heart to hear it. “Then I will endeavor to call you Jiang Wanyin in view of others,” he mused, offering Jiang Cheng a smile.

“I will make an effort as well,” Jiang Cheng licked his lips uncertainly, “Lan Xichen.”

The crowd of servants and disciples surrounding the storehouse ended their conversation there, though it was the giggling pair of boys playing in the snow that had Jin Ling’s attention. He stopped short and Jiang Cheng stopped too, just as tethered to his nephew as Jin Ling was to him.

“Jiu-jiu? What are they doing?” Jin Ling asked, watching them pile snow into shapes.

Lan Xichen did his best to hide his smile while Jiang Cheng released Jin Ling’s hand and gently pushed him forward. “Why don’t you ask them?”

Jin Ling looked uncertain and Lan Xichen remembered a talk he’d had, not so long ago, with A-Yao about his worries Jin Ling was not getting along with the other children his age. Jiang Cheng had written similar concerns in his letters, though had made some progress in introducing Jin Ling to the junior disciples in his own sect. There was still a very real hesitance in Jin Ling now, but when he looked at Jiang Cheng and got a firm nod, he puffed up and trudged over in a burst of confidence. It got him halfway before he faltered.

Thankfully, he’d been seen, and the two older boys regarded him curiously, which bolstered him back up again.

“What are you doing?” Jin Ling asked. Lan Xichen felt a burst of gratitude that the one he was talking to happened to be A-Yuan, who regarded Jin Ling with his usual sweet smile.

“We’re building snow bunnies,” he patted the mound of snow in both pride and invitation. “Do you want to join us?”

It was adorable, that crease in Jin Ling’s brow that made him look so much like Jiang Cheng. “Snow bunnies?”

The other boy, A-Yi, gave a loud sigh. “We were going to build a fort, but snowball fights are against the rules.”

“Snowball fights?” Jin Ling echoed in obvious confusion and A-Yuan quickly shushed his friend.

“Teacher does not like snowball fights,” A-Yuan said and pat the head of his sculpture again. “But making snow bunnies is just as fun.” A-Yi did not look convinced at that, but went back to piling snow nevertheless, a grin on his face.

Jin Ling tilted his head, looking them both over, before he nodded once. “You can teach me to make the snow bunnies,” he decided rather grandly and crossed the rest of the distance to them.

Jiang Cheng growled a little, eyes closing with that very same furrow in his brow. “A-Ling.” 

That had Jin Ling shooting Jiang Cheng a defiant pout, one he’d definitely gotten from his uncle. Still, he tried again for A-Yuan, puffy-cheeked. “You can teach me to make the snow bunnies, please.”

By now Lan Xichen was stifling his laughter behind his sleeve and Jiang Cheng shot him the same pout. Gods, how was he ever going to survive marriage to this man? He’d barely made it an hour thus far and already his heart was a mess!

“A-Ling, don’t stay out too long,” Jiang Cheng said, resigned, it seemed, to being laughed at. His neck and cheeks had turned a fetching shade of red under the furs of his cloak. He seemed to ignore it, as well as Lan Xichen, all in one.

“I won’t, jiu-jiu,” Jin Ling huffed and slowly scooped up a ball of snow under A-Yuan’s careful direction. That got A-Yi’s attention, especially when he finally seemed to realize just who was standing there with Lan Xichen, and hurried over to Jin Ling’s side, snow bunny forgotten.

“Sandu Shengshou is your uncle?” A-Yi whispered, which meant it was more like a hushed shriek.

Jin Ling just blinked at him, not understanding A-Yi’s wide eyes whatsoever. “Jiu-jiu is my jiu-jiu,” he said, because in his five year old mind, that was all that mattered. He pointed to Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen, beaming proudly. “And that’s my jiu-mu! I get to go to the wedding!”

Leave it to a happy child to break the news no one would want to hear. Lan Xichen couldn’t help but smile as all eyes turned to them. How perfect, was all he could think, wanting to laugh all over again. How utterly perfect.

Chapter Text

It was rather amazing - and incredibly amusing - just how alike Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling truly were when it came to ignoring embarrassing situations. As the crowd of servants and disciples began to mutter to themselves after Jin Ling’s declaration, disbelieving and shocked, Jiang Cheng had become the epitome of calm and confidence beside him, head held high, posture straight. His cheeks were dusted red, but beyond that he seemed perfectly at ease, even under their immediate scrutiny.

Jin Ling, just as blissful as his uncle seemed to be, had gone back to piling snow, oblivious to the way both his new friends were gaping at him. “Like this?” he asked A-Yuan, patting at the shape to start rounding it off. A-Yuan, bless him, did his best to respond calmly, nodding and encouraging the five year old to continue, though his eyes were still very, very wide when he glanced up at Lan Xichen. Lan Xichen smiled back at him sweetly in gratitude.

A-Yi, on the other hand, did nothing calmly. Nor quietly.

“You’re marrying Zewu-jun?!” It sounded like an accusation, which Lan Xichen winced at, but before he could gently reproach the boy, Jiang Cheng had turned his steely gaze on him, pinning him right down. A-Yi immediately went pale and hid behind A-Yuan with a squeak.

“What of it?” he asked, like it was the most normal thing in the world, chin lifted a little. Because of course he would think he had to defend their decision to a child. Ridiculous man! “I asked, he said yes. No need to make a fuss.”

As though it were as simple as that, Jiang Cheng stalked off, all business, and parted the crowd simply by stepping in close, his focus completely on task. Lan Xichen had to bite down a wide grin at the sight.

“Who here is in charge of the repairs?” Jiang Cheng demanded, eyes narrowed as though to dare anyone to try to stop his change of topic, or scream in horror the way their faces showed they wanted to. The crowd just stepped back more in response, save for the older man at the center who looked over Jiang Cheng with a bit of a frown.

“I am, Sect Leader Jiang,” the man, who everyone in Cloud Recesses referred to affectionately as Grandpa Li, told him, his usually kind face almost sharp in protective disapproval. The servant had been a young man when Lan Xichen had been a child, and he’d witnessed first hand the mess that had been the previous sect leader’s romance. Was he weighing Jiang Cheng against that tragedy? Lan Xichen felt an odd sort of anxiety grip his heart at the thought.

Jiang Cheng, for his part, simply bowed his head in respect of the man. “Old Uncle, where do we stand at present?”

Grandpa Li regarded him a long, assessing moment before answering. “We’ve patched the hole with straw, just need to set the boards.” He gestured a hand to the pile of wood slabs and the bucketful of nails, nearly buried already by the falling snow. “No point trying to set the tiles in this weather, the mortar will just freeze. But these will hold until spring.”

Jiang Cheng frowned up at the hole in the roof where the straw had been packed in. “Do you have a blueprint?”

“Of course.” Surprise flickering over his face, Grandpa Li pulled a scroll from his robe and bowed as he handed it over. Jiang Cheng looked it over with a critical eye, back up to the roof, then to the supplies waiting. He handed the scroll back with a nod of his own, then his glare snapped over the crowd. Like he was lightning personified, they all jolted in place.

“Alright, you lot,” he barked at the still stupefied disciples, “clear the area behind the building. I’m going to push the snow off the roof, so make sure nothing is in the way.”

He actually growled when they didn’t immediately move, which had them scurrying to comply. Lan Xichen had to count slowly in his mind just to keep his expression calm, the urge to laugh getting more and more absurd by the minute.

“You.” Jiang Cheng turned to the servants, who seemed far more ready to follow orders. “Take those beams and brace the roof under where the boards will go. Hold them steady or it’ll fall on your heads, got it?”

“Yes Sect Leader Jiang,” they said as one, bowing and quickly doing as ordered.

Lan Xichen moved over to Jiang Cheng as the crowd dispersed, his heart doing funny things when he caught the determined gleam in Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “Anything I can do?” he asked, honestly curious.

“Just keep everyone back,” Jiang Cheng told him. Lan Xichen didn’t miss the way he  had softened his voice to answer him, which made him smile. “I can work more quickly when I know no one is going to be in the way.”

“May I ask just what Sect Leader Jiang is going to do?” Grandpa Li asked, more confused now than critical Lan Xichen was relieved to note.

“We get a lot of floods in Yunmeng,” Jiang Cheng explained, voice even softer in deference to the old man. “My family has spent centuries adapting cultivation techniques to redirect the water as well as making basic repairs. I’ve spent my whole life rebuilding and I figured out a way to merge the best techniques into one process to make it easier on my disciples.” A shrug. A shrug. “Should work on your storehouse.”

It was astounding how he could say such a miraculous thing like it was nothing more impressive than taking out the trash. Jiang Cheng looked around at all the snow, a furrow in his brow, heedless to their shocked faces, and was back to business when the disciples came back.

“All clear?” When they nodded, he briskly waved a hand at them all. “Then stand back. Get in my way and I’ll break your legs, understand?”

Everyone moved back, murmuring to one another and shooting Lan Xichen still worried looks. He did his best to stay perfectly neutral in expression and poise, but was only half successful when he felt a soft tug on his sleeve.

“Did he blackmail you into saying yes?” A-Yi not-quite-whispered, looking more than ready to pounce on Jiang Cheng the moment Lan Xichen gave him reason, no matter how scared of the man he was. What a little warrior he was turning out to be! Lan Xichen touched his shoulder fondly and shook his head.

“I must ask A-Yi to stop listening to rumors about Jiang Wanyin,” he said, gently chiding but more amused than anything. A-Yi went pink in shame and Lan Xichen reached out to give his bangs a teasing pull before he could look too downtrodden. “But thank you for watching out for me. What he said is true. He asked for my hand in marriage and I accepted. No blackmail required.”

“Oh.” A-Yi actually seemed a bit disappointed in that, but it was quickly gone under a hopeful gasp. “Can I come to the wedding too?”

“Of course,” Lan Xichen chuckled, more than a little aware of the ripple of shocked faces surrounding him now. “Who else will help me hide my wedding shoes but A-Yi and A-Yuan?” [1]

The boy shot him his best grin with its cheerful gap, a missing front tooth that had been knocked loose during swordsmanship practice with Wangji. He was still incredibly proud of it. “Thank you, Zewu-jun!” So easily won over. If only it were going to be that easy to sway everyone else.

A rush of spiritual energy had his focus back on the storehouse and the fluttering purple robes caught in a rush of swirling white. Tucking Sandu into his belt, Jiang Cheng did a quick hand seal before slamming his palm into the air at the roof. Like an explosion, the snow shot off the tiles and down the backside of the building, scattering in the wind. Without missing a beat, Jiang Cheng immediately adjusted his stance once the area was cleared, hands a flurry of seals Lan Xichen had never seen. It was like watching a dancer, all delicate fingers and careful movements. Not a single step out of place, every body placement perfect.

Jiang Cheng slid his foot backwards, palm over the ground and his energy crackling out in a spiderweb to every board and nail laying in wait. Shuddering, the boards began to lift into the air, guided by the roaring power. They rotated themselves in slow patterns and landed neatly on the roof.

Another surge, then the nails shot into the air, lightning quick and whistling at the speed in which they lunged at the roof. Jiang Cheng leapt up on a cascade of snow to direct them and they lined up across each board, perfectly balanced on their points.

“Brace!” he shouted in warning to the servants inside holding the beams, then cut his palm down. A resounding crack and the nails thudded into the boards with enough force the whole building shook.

Lan Xichen wasn’t sure he was breathing, or anyone else for that matter. Time seemed suspended as they watched Jiang Cheng gently touch back to earth with one final seal, then his vast spiritual energy pulled back in, neat and tidy, a purring kitten rather than the charging tiger it had been only moments before. Such control, such ferocity. It was little wonder he was so feared. It was terrifying, in fact, knowing such a caged beast existed inside Jiang Cheng’s soul.

What did it mean, then, that Lan Xichen was not afraid of him?

Like they weren’t all gaping at him, Jiang Cheng turned to Grandpa Li and gave a respectful bow of his chin. “That should hold, Old Uncle.”

Grandpa Li only managed some semblance of bow, surprised gaze on the now patched roof that had taken him the better part of the day just to fill with straw. Once again ignoring them all, Jiang Cheng nodded to the servants that filtered out of the house, unhurt, and moved back towards Lan Xichen.

“What?” Jiang Cheng looked a tad uncertain when Lan Xichen just stared at him. He shuffled his feet before cocking a hip, an instinctual move most likely to hide that nervous tick. He schooled his features in as well, sharp and almost defiant. “I said I’d fix it, didn’t I?”

“That was amazing,” A-Yi gushed before Lan Xichen could remember how to use his words, as always giving voice to what they all wanted to really say. “Since you’re marrying Zewu-jun, could you teach me that?”

Jiang Cheng stared down at his awe-stricken face, brows furrowed in confusion. Lan Xichen would’ve smiled at how adorable he looked that way if it weren’t so heartbreaking. Truly, how could this man be so blind to his own talents? “You want to learn how to fix a roof?” he asked, dubious.

A-Yi nodded eagerly. “Please teach me, Sect Leader Jiang!”

He wasn’t the only one to step forward to request it, either, making Jiang Cheng expression turn rather startled. Lan Xichen gently touched his arm before he was swarmed, a soothing rush of qi in his palm, and drew his slightly wide eyes back to him.

“It would be an honor to learn some of YunmengJiang’s cultivation from you, Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Xichen said, voice gentle with the warmth spreading in his chest. Jiang Cheng breathed in slowly at that, settling himself back to calm, then straightened all over again, nodding once.

“It would be an honor to teach GusuLan,” Jiang Cheng said and managed a little smile for him. He felt his heart swoop at the sight. “But marriage goes both ways, Lan Xichen. If you learn from me, I must learn from you.”

“It would be an honor to teach YunmengJiang some of our cultivation techniques,” Lan Xichen agreed readily and his grin was echoed on nearly every surrounding face. Grandpa Li caught his eye and gave an agreeable nod, which was more of a relief than it should have been. Knowing the old man was accepting of his choice was a weight off his shoulders he hadn’t expected.

“Jiu-jiu!” There was a blur of gold and fur and then a giggling Jin Ling was latched onto Jiang Cheng’s hip, effectively cutting through the moment. “Jiu-jiu, jiu-jiu, I made snow bunnies!”

He was covered in more snow than Lan Xichen would’ve expected to see and glanced over to where A-Yuan was walking over, just as dusted in white and a tad sheepish, though he was grinning as he grabbed A-Yi’s hand.

“You are more snow bunny than what you made,” Jiang Cheng scoffed, dusting off Jin Ling’s shoulders and hair, given his hood had fallen down and was now full of snow. “What did you roll in?”

“The snow bunnies!” Jin Ling crowed, absolutely proud of himself. “I made three!”

Jiang Cheng blinked at that, eyebrow raised, and looked to A-Yuan for a better explanation. Pink cheeked, A-Yuan pointed to the mess of snow they’d left behind.

“We piled up the snow and jumped in it,” he giggled. “He didn’t like how the bunnies looked so we rolled on them instead.”

“I’m cold now!” Jin Ling proclaimed, not worried about that in the least, and held up his snow-caked mittens to Lan Xichen given Jiang Cheng promptly slapped a hand over his eyes to groan, so wasn’t paying enough attention. “Jiu-mu, look! It’s sticky!”

Lan Xichen huffed a soft laugh at his bright face and red nose. “It is,” he agreed. “I’m glad I asked for a guest room to be prepared for you, Young Master Jin, so that you can get warmed up again and not get sick.”

Jin Ling’s face twisted in instant disgust. “Jiu-jiu, time to get warm,” he said immediately, tugging on Jiang Cheng’s pinkie like a tiny little lordling. The grip had to be freezing, but Jiang Cheng did not pull away, just scowled down at the little pulls.

“Where are your manners?” He gave the boy a pointed push with their joined hands. “Thank Lan Xichen for the room.”

A deep pout, but nonetheless, Jin Ling complied and Lan Xichen was helpless to do anything but grin back at the cheerful smile he was gifted. “Thank you for the room, jiu-mu. I’m going to get warm now, please.”

“...jiu-mu?”

The icy voice had them all turning and every ounce of warmth that had filled Lan Xichen’s heart disappeared in a wave of cold. Wangji was still as a statue, eyes sharp and unyielding and utterly focused on Jiang Cheng, even as all the servants and disciples hurried to give him a proper bow. A dangerous look for any that knew him well, and Jiang Cheng responded in kind, a mask of cutting politeness falling over him like a veil.

“Hanguang-jun,” Jiang Cheng nodded his head, all grace and charm, but there was something mocking about it. Wangji didn’t even bother to return the gesture, seeing it for the charade it was, eyes narrowing to slits.

“Sect Leader Jiang.” It was a warning, a threat, and Lan Xichen quickly stepped between them before Wangji could draw his blade, somehow finding a smile for his younger brother even with his heart jumping into his throat.

“Wangji, you said nothing about returning early,” Lan Xichen murmured, honestly glad to see Wangji looking well and whole, especially since he’d returned the time before with a brand mark on his chest and blood staining his robes. He looked tired, but as impossible as ever, though still had the presence of mind to bow his head to him more respectfully. Not too angry, then.

“Mn. Wanted it to be a surprise.” His eyes flickered down to A-Yuan’s excited face and allowed the boy to take his hand. It sadly did nothing to temper the fire in his eyes when he looked back up at Jiang Cheng.

The glare Jiang Cheng gave back was perfectly cold in response. Then he was plucking up Jin Ling and giving Lan Xichen a cursory bow. If he’d slapped Lan Xichen across the face right then, it wouldn’t have stung as much.

“Do not let me interrupt your reunion then, Sect Leader Lan,” he said, face completely closed off. Even Jin Ling’s excitement had dampened, probably sensing his uncle’s ire, and looked over at Wangji in timid curiosity. That, coupled with the use of his title once more was like a stab to Lan Xichen’s heart. All he could think to do was reach out for them, but already Jiang Cheng was turning away.

“I need to get Young Master Jin warmed up, if you’ll excuse me Zewu-jun, Hanguang-jun.”

Watching him leave felt like the man was slipping between his fingers and that was a depth of panic had hadn’t anticipated his heart was capable of. Had it truly been only a moment before he felt he’d had a solid grip? Foolish.

Swallowing down that potent anxiety, he turned to the two boys still there, both looking as uncertain as Jin Ling had, and forced himself to smile for them. “A-Yi, A-Yuan, would you please show Jiang Wanyin and Young Master Jin to their guest room and make sure they have enough blankets? Then go to the kitchens to get a warm soup.”

The boys, always excited to help, bowed and quickly hurried off as fast as they could without running, though A-Yuan made sure to give Wangji a wave and a big smile before disappearing around the corner. Wangji softened a touch to see it, but his gaze was all disapproval when he met Lan Xichen’s eyes. He sighed in response.

Perhaps sensing a fight - or, rather, as close to fighting as they ever got - the crowd quickly dispersed, leaving him and Wangji alone in the falling snow. Lan Xichen tilted his head and moved off, his brother easily matching his step, as always. The silence between them was telling and Lan Xichen gave him the time to form the questions Wangji more than likely wanted to ask, as well as find his own confidence in his choice, shaken as it was by Wangji’s sudden appearance and the worry quickly encasing him.

“I have agreed to marry Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Xichen said when they’d reached a bridge and looked out at the water still moving between its frozen banks. “I will explain myself to only you, Wangji, but know I am set on it.”

“Mn.” Wangji took that in with a barely there shift of his weight. So, not going to fight that, it seemed, which meant his only problem was in Jiang Cheng himself. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Lan Xichen looked at him, unable to stop himself from smiling at the stubborn look on his brother’s face. Away from Jiang Cheng, Wangji was far easier to read. All that dangerous rage, while a real threat, was also Wangji’s way of appearing ready for a fight to scare the unlucky target into submission. He’d been above pouting and stamping his foot in disagreement since he was two, but the childish spirit of it was very much still there.

“A sentiment he shares, I assure you.” Lan Xichen looked out again at the water. The headstrong music it made as it carried on reminded him so much of Jiang Cheng and he was smiling before he realized his lips were moving into the shape. The man was, truly, well named. “He asked me with every intention of being rejected.”

A furrowed brow. “Why?”

It was two-fold, that simple word. Why? “His council pushed him here, so he thought he’d make them stop by ruining his reputation with me.” But why? “I agreed because I did not wish to see that happen.”

There was more to it and it was clear Wangji knew it too. By now his eyes had grown so dark and worried Lan Xichen felt a knife of guilt slip between his ribs. He touched Wangji’s hand where it was tightly curled around Bichen’s hilt and continued their walk to allow Wangji to ponder what Lan Xichen’s motives could be. No one knew his brother better than he, after all, and no one knew him better than Wangji.

“There is nothing worthy about him,” was how he started, a bit uncharitable, but not unexpected.

“Again, he would agree,” Lan Xichen countered calmly, amused at how alike Wangji and Jiang Cheng actually were. Bull-headed, childish, far too protective… “But I do not."

“He has started to hunt down people who may be Wei Ying,” Wangji shot back, voice cold with judgement.

Lan Xichen understood immediately what Wangji was angling towards and firmed his voice to stop the argument before it could begin. “I do not condone such things, but I do understand his anger. As do you.”

Wangji’s brow crinkled again, affirming that well enough. “You cannot change him.”

“He doesn’t need to be changed,” Lan Xichen sighed, stopping and turning to face Wangji fully. His brother glanced down in visible frustration, unable to meet his gaze, and Lan Xichen understood that too. After all, it had not been so long ago he had tried to lecture Wangji about his loving Wei Wuxian, and Wangji’s answers had been no different to his own now. “He needs guidance, Wangji. He is grieving and alone, with nowhere to put that anger. I cannot force him to change, nor would I wish to, but I can offer him understanding.”

It was a bitter feeling, knowing that he had the chance to stand with Jiang Cheng the way Wangji had failed to do for his love. The sad resignation that filled Wangji’s expression broke his heart.

“Di-di.” He rarely used the old affectionate title, given how early he’d been forced into sect leader status and propriety had to be maintained, so when he did in moments such as this, he made it count. Lan Xichen lifted his hand to brush back some of Wangji’s hair from over his shoulder, fingertips gently teasing his brother’s cheek as he did so. Wangji’s eyes closed in response, body sagging, waiting for the hammerblow. “I simply wish to stand by his side, but not if it means losing you.”

The surprise that flickered in Wangji’s face was a relief. “You will not,” he said, firm and sure, as though that had never been in question. Lan Xichen felt himself breathe again, deeper, and that warmth from before flooded back. Wangji managed a tiny smile to respond to his own, which made his heart feel immediately too full.

“I don’t know where this road will take me, but I am ready to walk it,” Lan Xichen told him, stepping back and looking out at the serenity of Cloud Recesses, lit as it was by the soft glow of lanterns gleaming in the white.

“I will not pretend to like him,” was Wangji’s compromise, eyes narrowed to show Lan Xichen how not okay he was with this, but was still willing to stand with him. Lan Xichen thanked him with a smile.

“He will not pretend to like you either, I’d wager, and I will not ask either of you to force yourselves for my sake.”

“Mn.” Wangji’s gaze was caught on a soft laugh in the distance. A-Yuan and A-Yi, carrying a bathing tub between them while a bouncing Jin Ling directed them from the doorway of the guest rooms. Lan Xichen hoped the boys could be the best of friends one day, if only to be gifted such sweet laughter forever. “Shu-fu will not be happy.”

“Will anyone?” Lan Xichen breathed out, half laugh, half sigh. At Wangji’s pointed look he could only shake his head at himself. “I know, it would have been so much easier for everyone if I had just refused him. But I… I just couldn’t.”

Wangji shifted his weight again, this time to carefully press his shoulder to Lan Xichen’s, a silent show of support. “Do what you think is right,” he murmured, the sad wisdom shattered in the grief he showed only to Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen turned once more to grip his hands, the way he had when Wangji had been little and cried silent tears when he’d broken his favorite calligraphy brush; the way he had when Wangji had broken apart in silent agony with a fresh brand on his heart and Wei Wuxian’s name on his lips. “I must follow my heart.”

“But will he let you?” Ah, so even his anger hadn’t blinded Wangji to the way Jiang Cheng had pulled away so completely.

“I do not know.” And it scared him that he truly did not. “What is worth having in this life will always be a fight to keep, Wangji. All I can do is try. He is worth trying for.”

Wangji clearly disagreed with that, but softened nonetheless, though that childish disapproval was very much still there in his eyes. “I am not calling him brother.”

Lan Xichen felt relieved tears prick his eyes and squeezed Wangji’s hands in gratitude. “I doubt he’ll call you brother anyway. Call him what you wish, Wangji. It is no matter to me.”

“Sao-zi,” Wangji said immediately, perfectly flat and serious. Sister-in-law. Lan Xichen couldn’t stop his delighted laughter even if he wanted to.

Chapter Text

Uncle’s rooms were a study in simplicity. Nothing flourished, nothing pretending to be more than it was. The teacups were just cups, the teapot just a teapot. Over the many years, Lan Qiren had added things to the shelves, but even these were simple - a feather quill, a book of poetry - and Lan Xichen had never seen the elder deviate from it. Except once.

Lan Xichen hadn’t even known it existed. A beautifully carved incense burner that took the shape of a fountain, not the tried and true rounded pots common throughout all of the cultivation world. Two carp swam head to tail in the bottom basin, expertly rendered in different colors of stone. Even when incense was not burned and no pools of smoke filtered down the channels, it was a breathtaking piece, expensive and far more luxurious than anything Lan Xichen had ever seen in the Cloud Recesses.

He’d have thought it was Jin-made for how lavish it was. Certainly not from the Lan, who praised the simple effectiveness of things. So when Jiang Cheng had presented it to Uncle after the deaths of his parents and Lotus Pier had been newly reclaimed… well. To say it was a simple shock would be an understatement.

Knowing it had been a gift from Uncle to the late Jiang Fengmian had been even more surprising. It had been for the wedding, he’d been informed quietly, and in watching Uncle place the burner on a shelf - a place of honor, where it would always be seen - Lan Xichen had realized something extraordinary.

He would not say his uncle was one to make friends. He was an amiable enough person, to be fair, and got along with anyone that played by the rules. His fellow elders had no cross words to say about him, nor he they, and he often spent afternoons with a few of them to play chess or drink tea and generally grumble about everything. The students all respected him greatly and though his praise could be hard to obtain, it was nonetheless heartfelt when given. In that way, he gave the impression of closeness, but in truth it was closeness at arm’s length. Uncle’s true feelings, what he held inside himself, were rarely showed to anyone, not even Lan Xichen or Wangji.

Uncle was a proud man, difficult and stubborn. For him to have considered Jiang Fengmian a true friend was no small thing. They had schooled together, had gone on night hunts together in their prime. Lan Qiren had written to Jiang Fengmian of his concerns with Lan Xichen’s parents, the only outsider to know his true feelings. And when word had reached Cloud Recesses of Lotus Pier’s burning and the death of its leaders, Lan Qiren had secluded himself for days in silent meditation. Wangji had assumed, just as the rest of the disciples had, that he was grieving the loss of one of their closest allies, because it had been a devastation, no matter the angle, but Lan Xichen had suddenly known, when Uncle stared up at the incense burner with ghosts and stories in his eyes… he’d realized it had not been just the tragedy that had shaken Lan Qiren. His uncle had lost a dear and true friend that day, perhaps the only one he’d had, and to be returned the gift in respect of that friendship meant more to Uncle than Lan Xichen knew he would never know.

It was no secret the closeness of GusuLan and YunmengJiang. Throughout the centuries, where Clans married into one another to strengthen bonds and make treaties, the Lan and Jiang had had no such connections. Theirs had always been a simple tie of friendship and respect. Trade agreements, calls to arms, it made no difference. They’d never needed marriages or long, drawn out treatises to settle anything. They simply existed in loyalty and deference to one another. That’s all they’d ever needed.

That, coupled with Uncle’s close regard of the late Jiang sect leader, made Lan Xichen uncertain just what to expect when he was called into his uncle’s rooms. Jiang Cheng had carried on the Jiang tradition of friendship almost in his first act as sect leader, the gift of the burner the start of what Lan Xichen knew was a heartfelt alliance with the Lan, but while Lan Qiren had never said a word against Jiang Cheng and enjoyed a level of respect from the man that he hardly gave to anyone else, Uncle had never said an approving word about Jiang Cheng either. They had not moved much from the days that Jiang Cheng was a student and Uncle was the mentor, in many ways. Jiang Cheng still called him teacher in fact.

And there was Uncle’s own heart to consider, the grief he still held for the loss of his friend. On the one hand, Jiang Cheng was nothing like his father, which Lan Xichen worried his uncle held against him. On the other hand, Jiang Cheng was an exemplary leader. He maintained propriety and never put a step out of line. He was stubborn and fought against the control of his elders, it was true, but his rebellion was always in service to his people, or to those he cared for.

Even this move to shatter his reputation was calculated for Jin Ling’s benefit. Uncle would not agree to it, Lan Xichen was certain of that, but was it Jiang Cheng himself that Uncle would disapprove of? Or would it be more like-

“There are proper ways to go about this,” Uncle sputtered after the long, drawn out silence Lan Xichen had been greeted with the moment he’d taken his seat. It seemed he’d lost his battle to compose himself. “You both know better than to turn against centuries of tradition.”

Lan Xichen nearly sagged in relief, but held it in. it wouldn’t do to add bad posture to the list Uncle had surely thought up detailing all his transgressions. He settled for pouring Lan Qiren a cup of tea and gently placing it before him, serene. “I know, shu-fu, and I do apologize.”

“No courtship period,” Lan Qiren shook his head gravely like Lan Xichen had murdered Jiang Cheng, not agreed to marry him. The tea was ignored entirely. Truly upset about this, then. “No formal announcement.”

“It was last second,” Lan Xichen agreed, hiding a smile around a sip of tea. He received a steely glare for his efforts.

“Never in all centuries of Clan history have two leaders wed,” Uncle stated, sounding close to a conniption. “What are you thinking, Xichen?”

What indeed. A flash of Jiang Cheng’s closed off expression flickered in his mind before he could force it away. He wondered if it was supposed to be scarier, knowing he was going to have to face Jiang Cheng after this talk, to sit and try to convince him that this joke was something he was willing to take on still, and take seriously. Surely, it would be far easier to simply allow Jiang Cheng to pull free, let it all go back to the way it was. Surely, he was not supposed to feel as determined as he did.

Lan Xichen set down his cup with as much poise as he could muster. “He asked me, shu-fu, and I agreed. It was a simple choice in the end, but I promise I gave it due thought.”

Not the best way to say it, though it was true enough. Lan Qiren was starting to turn purple and Lan Xichen nudged his tea closer, a pointed statement to breathe. Thankfully, Uncle took the hint and breathed out slowly, muttering under his breath as he sipped the drink. Lan Xichen forced down the smile he felt forming.

“Marriage is not a joke,” Uncle huffed, though, oddly, seemed to be losing some of his fury already. Lan Xichen had expected a far longer fight, not this depressed slide into resignation. “It is a sacred bond.”

Lan Xichen tilted his head, regarding his uncle’s sagging shoulders in growing worry. “I’m not taking it as a joke,” he said, proud it was true. “It was unexpected, but I am ready to stand by him as a proper cultivation partner."

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, saying that. Not relief, certainly, but perhaps more stubbornness. He was used to stubbornness from his uncle. After all, Wangji had learned it from him. And as long as Uncle found reason to be stubborn about something or another, Lan Xichen could be certain all was right in the world, or as right as things could possibly be.

What he got, instead, was Uncle looking up at that fountain with such a wretched look of acceptance that Lan Xichen shamefully didn’t know how to react. It was a glimpse of that heart Lan Qiren guarded so closely, that grief that was tempered, but still very much there in his face. He reached up to stroke his beard, perhaps in memory, and sighed.

When he closed his eyes, it almost looked painful. The resigned smile that lit his lips was fragile and cut straight into Lan Xichen’s chest. “He truly is just like his mother, isn’t he?”

It didn’t sound like a compliment, though it never did in all the times Lan Xichen had heard it, usually muttered in the gossiping corners of the court. Hearing it from Uncle now felt like something shattering under his ribs, the shards stabbing him through.

“Shu-fu?”

A soft grunt, disapproving but not surprised either. “She did the same, you know. Marched into YunmengJiang during a Conference of all times and demanded Jiang-xiong marry her."

Jiang-xiong. Lan Xichen had to look down, hearing that endearment, and nodded once. “I remember you telling me that story.”

“Then you should know better,” Uncle sighed yet again, deflating further, and finally took his eyes off the fountain, mask firmly back in place. “You know how they fractured.”

Lan Xichen managed a smile, recognizing his uncle’s special brand of worry hidden so far under that disapproving frown he always seemed to wear. What would he think of Lan Xichen, of Jiang Cheng, if he knew this marriage had been nothing but a joke until Lan Xichen had accepted it? That Lan Xichen himself didn’t know what to label it? Was it still a joke? Was it real? Was it worth everything to fight to keep it? “I’m not saying marriage will be easy, or that it is even a proper idea. All I can do is stand by him and try. You taught me that as well.”

Uncle’s gaze was piercing, assessing, before he nodded, only once. Lan Xichen gave him a more thankful bow in response, knowing it was as close to acceptance as he was going to get at this time. Hopefully it would be enough to sway some of Jiang Cheng’s own doubts, knowing at least Lan Qiren was as behind this as he would allow himself to be.

“You will do things properly from now on,” Uncle warned and finally Lan Xichen could relax, back on common ground with the prickly man. “Sect Leader Jiang’s eagerness to wed will not rush you into anything else.”

Lan Xichen could almost physically hear what Uncle wasn’t saying. Don’t let Jiang Cheng upset your principles the way Wei Wuxian ruined Wangji’s. He bowed again, deeper that time, so Uncle would not see the pain that flickered over his face, nor the potent guilt dropping low in his stomach like a stone. “I will not move forward with the next steps without the full backing of Wangji, the elders, and you, shu-fu. I promise.”

A scoff, but Lan Qiren sipped his tea instead of ordering Lan Xichen to end everything with Jiang Cheng right then and there, which he clearly wanted to, and that was a victory in and of itself. He took that as his cue to go, the dismissal clear, and made sure his bow was immaculate and his footsteps perfectly quiet when he left, lest Uncle get irritated further and change his mind.

Lan Xichen didn’t dare breathe again until he was sliding the door shut behind him and had to lean back against it a moment just to collect himself.

Wangji was not far off, waiting his turn to see Uncle, and moved over to him in a comfortingly familiar swish of robes. The sight was an immediate balm to his frazzled nerves, and Lan Xichen smiled to see the faint worry in his eyes, despite his reluctance to this whole plan. He touched Wangji’s hand in both gratitude and reassurance.

His brother instantly relaxed. “He said yes?”

“Well…” Lan Xichen was pretty sure smiling harder was not a proper, filial reaction to the situation, but he really couldn’t stop himself. Dodging Uncle’s fury was no different than surviving a night hunt most of the time, and the adrenaline rush was definitely the same, if not more nerve wracking. “He didn’t say no.”

Wangji gave him a look of amused understanding and nodded once, though stopped Lan Xichen from moving off with a soft tug on his sleeve. It was a special language they had, one that hadn’t actually moved too far away from how they’d been when they were small. Wangji was fierce and independent, stoic and strong, but in these moments when no one else could see, he was just his di-di, stubborn and upset, but refusing to say so.

He was offered a little carved boat he recognized from the collection of toys A-Yuan kept in his room. “For Jin Ling,” Wangji said, in fact, a tiny smile in the corner of his mouth. “From A-Yuan.”

Ah, that was right. Didn’t they take in a bathing tub for Jin Ling to use? Lan Xichen chuckled, all fondness, and carefully took the toy which had served A-Yuan through many bathtime adventures. “Such a generous heart he has,” Lan Xichen murmured, hand drifting up to gently grip Wangji’s shoulder.

“He got it from Wei Ying,” was his brother’s quiet admission, though a smile managed to break through the pain in his face, for once. It was like a flower shyly blooming open, wary of the cold, but still sensing the light and utterly beautiful to experience.

Lan Xichen gently squeezed his shoulder. “And you as well,” he said, even quieter. Anyone who knew his brother knew he saw A-Yuan as a son, not just a ward. It was a fact not spoken aloud save for between the two of them. For A-Yuan’s benefit or Wangji’s privacy, he still wasn’t sure, but it was an easy secret to hold. “You are raising him wonderfully, Wangji. He is lucky to have you.”

Wangji’s ears went red and he shuffled on his feet, though a hopeful happiness flickered through that veil of grief, just a little, and for a moment he was just three years old, embarrassed but excited to learn his big brother shared his love of rabbits. Lan Xichen chuckled as another toy was stuffed into his grip instead of a proper answer, this time a wooden sheep that had been gleefully doodled on.

“A-Yi?” he asked, though already knew the answer, and shook his head fondly to see the painted on smile.

“To fit in the boat,” Wangji said, still swaying from foot to foot, and Lan Xichen pat his hand, bracing him.

“Tell them both I’m grateful,” Lan Xichen said. “And I’m certain Young Master Jin will be thankful as well.”

He got a pointed look for his words and huffed a laugh. Because of course this was not just an errand for two excited boys, but a way to soften Jiang Cheng enough to open the door for him fully. To listen to him, hopefully, if nothing else. He gave Wangji’s hand a slow, meaningful squeeze to convey the pride and love he felt for him in that moment, mixed in with all that gratitude and guilt. “Thank you, Wangji.”

“Mn.” A little nod, though he noted Wangji’s posture had eased considerably. “I should not keep shu-fu waiting.”

“Nor I Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Xichen smiled and let him pull away. Never had a goodbye ever been uttered between them. It made his chest swell with fondness. “I will see you at supper.”

Wangi just gave him another look, his brother’s equivalent of shooing him off. He laughed, unable to help it, and told himself he was not walking faster than usual as he made his way to the guest quarters.

He usually put visiting sect leaders into the nicer rooms, when he had the time to properly get them prepared and aired out. They were farther from the center of Cloud Recesses for privacy and generally unused, which meant their cleaning was regulated more by need than routine. But with Jiang Cheng’s unexpected visit, and with Jin Ling no less, Lan Xichen had had to settle for the rooms set aside for the merchants, or traveling monks, easy to get ready at short notice, but decidedly not fit in terms of the general finery usually set aside for men of Jiang Cheng’s status.

He hoped the man was not offended by it, though the very idea was enough to make him smile. Jiang Cheng did not care for fine things, he knew, having seen the man personally turn his nose at fine gifts and other fineries flaunted by the court. Not to mention all the times he’d rolled his eyes in his brother-in-law’s presence. He was impeccable in dress, it was true, but not overly so, and when he did wear anything fine or expensive, it was to make a statement about his culture, his home, rather than as a showpiece.

It was far more his personality to simply be pleased to have a room, a bed, and a fire. The room also afforded Jin Ling better access to the grounds, so he could play with the other young disciples while still being close enough to warm back up in the kitchens, or the dining hall, and feel like he was a part of the place, not seperate. And that was something Lan Xichen hoped Jiang Cheng would appreciate, especially when the snows moved in and it would be much harder to move about.

The winds picked up as though hearing his mind and he allowed himself a moment to soak in the feeling of fluttering snow against his face, catching in his smile, and feeling the music it carried as it fell joyfully down. It always felt like home, feeling snow like this, and he drew much needed strength from it. Old memories and new, mingling together in each fluffy flake. The newest, yet already treasured: Jiang Cheng, dotted with snow and smiling sweetly up at Jin Ling, happy and beautiful and alight with love and laughter. Even if he could not salvage their crazy plan, he would still have this, and he held onto it with awed reverence.

Jiang Cheng’s rooms were lit with warm fire and light and even before Lan Xichen climbed the steps up to it, he could hear Jin Ling’s giggling laughter around the splash of water. Jiang Cheng’s voice was too low to understand, but there was a music in it too, soothing, a tad exasperated, and full of so much love. Lan Xichen wanted to close his eyes and simply sink into it, forever if he could. Hopefully, he still had the chance.

It was an almost physical pain, reaching up to knock and disturbing the peaceful happiness radiating from inside. “Jiang Wanyin?”

A pause, a soft murmur near the tub, followed by a slightly pouty “I won’t, jiu-jiu,” then heavy, purposeful steps to the door.

Jiang Cheng looked just as closed off as he had when they’d parted, which wasn’t a good start. But he’d opened the door and didn’t seem angry he was there, so Lan Xichen would take whatever victory he could get.

He bowed his head immediately and opened his mouth to apologize, but was cut off by a quick glare from the man. “If you’re about to say what I think you are, save it. I don’t need your apologies, especially when you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Lan Xichen fidgeted with the little boat in his hand, felt the carved wool of the sheep against his thumb and took a breath. “What else do I say to you? You are angry and hurt. How do I fix this?”

Jiang Cheng blinked at him owlishly, honest confusion softening his eyes for a brief moment. “Why would you want to fix this?” he asked, truly thrown, and narrowed his gaze on him. “You must see how terrible an idea this is now. Surely.”

He did. Oh, how he did. It was a terrible, horrible idea. The worst he’d ever agreed to. And the fact that he wanted to fight for it made it infinitely worse. “I made my requirement clear, Jiang Wanyin. I’m in this fully, not only when it’s convenient for me to be so.”

“Then I’ll release you,” Jiang Cheng huffed, rolling his eyes, though Lan Xichen was pleased to note a blush was starting to overtake his face. “You should never have agreed to this. I never should have asked you in the first place.”

“You had reason and you asked,” Lan Xichen told him, voice firm on that. “And I agreed. If you were to ask again, I would still agree.”

A thousand questions instanly screamed over Jiang Cheng’s face following his words, but the man refused to give voice to any of them. Disbelief, hurt, guilt, and a wary sort of hope flashed over his expression, until they settled on something very tired, but fond too. At least, Lan Xichen hoped that warmth was fondness. “You really are insane.”

“If my betrothed says so, it must be true,” Lan Xichen tried for the tease and nearly buckled with relief to see Jiang Cheng smile, slightly crooked and trembling. It wasn’t a happy thing, but it was there, and that meant everything.

“And now I assume you want me to let you in so you can further convince me to keep going with this madness?” His voice was low, sarcastic, but there was an undercurrent of… something in it that shivered through Lan Xichen, the way all hidden music did when he stumbled upon it, waiting to be heard.

Lan Xichen hoped his heart wasn’t singing too loudly, lest the man hear it and slam the door on him. “Do you want to be convinced?”

“I don’t know,” Jiang Cheng admitted, sighing a little. “I shouldn’t. But you’re insane and you’ll probably win me over. You always do.”

“I promise not to misuse such power,” Lan Xichen said, truly stunned by the admission he held any sort of sway over Jiang Cheng at all. He held up the boat and it's woolly passenger in a silent plea. “I am even prepared to bribe you into letting me in, if you would prefer that course of action.”

Amusement now, sweet victory. Jiang Cheng looked down at the toys, then back up to Lan Xichen’s eyes, considering him. Lan Xichen had faced walking corpses that had not made his heart rate kick up as much as that simple look did. “Do they float?”

“They do,” Lan Xichen said, holding up the boat and setting the sheep inside to demonstrate it fit as well. Jiang Cheng took them and looked them over, as though they were priceless artifacts and not children’s toys, turning them this way and that to judge their weight and worth. Once he seemed satisfied, he cocked an eyebrow at the sheep’s painted face, making Lan Xichen huff a laugh. “A-Yi went through a brief stint of vandalism when he was three,” he explained. "Shu-fu was horrified.”

To his immense joy, Jiang Cheng snorted and a real smile softened his face even further. It was so close an echo to the smile he’d had when out in the snow with Jin Ling that Lan Xichen felt his breath catch all over again.

“I suppose this is acceptable,” Jiang Cheng said after a moment of thought, speaking in the same voice he used when he was indulging a joke, and Lan Xichen knew he hadn’t lost this, hadn’t lost him, yet. The relief was startlingly strong, a lump lodging in his throat, making it hard to swallow. Why it meant so much, he couldn’t fathom. He only knew it did. This mattered. And he was going to keep it as long as Jiang Cheng allowed him to.

“Thank you, Jiang Wanyin,” he murmured, too soft and earnest for the joke’s sake, but unable to temper his voice otherwise. He was feeling too much, too fully, and he didn’t even know why.

Jiang Cheng blushed as though he felt it too, but nodded, and opened the door wider for him. “Don’t thank me just yet, Lan Xichen,” he said, half tease, half warning, but the invitation was clear. “You’ll be regretting this day before too long.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Lan Xichen told him, the words far more true than he’d anticipated. Jiang Cheng smiled that crooked smile again, bashful and confused, and it felt like acceptance, like starting over, like singing alone into the night and finally, finally hearing someone singing along.

Heart light, nearly dizzy with emotions he had no names for, Lan Xichen stepped over the threshold and into the warmth of Jiang Cheng’s rooms, a smile on his face.

Chapter Text

It was not the first time Jiang Cheng had felt so adrift. He’d spent a majority of his childhood uncertain where he stood in regards to other people - his mother, protectively sweet and cutting in equal measure, no matter what he did; his father, warmly kind and yet silent in praise, no matter his achievements. And, of course, the only two people he’d loved most in the world - who’d loved him most, as he was, all he was - had left him far behind.

He wouldn’t consider being a sect leader a blessing save for one thing: he no longer had to guess his worth, or how much he mattered to the world. To his people he was a generous protector, if a terribly angry one, always ready to listen and give aid, no matter how messy the situation. To the court he was a staunch leader and warrior, ready to set himself between everyone and danger, no matter how difficult a man he truly was to deal with. He had stepped fully into being Jiang Wanyin, Sandu Shengshou, man and monster, and for once that was good enough. He’d carved out a place and remained there firmly, and that had silenced those doubts about worth and standing, even at the cost of who he used to be - who he was, still. He’d never mattered as just Jiang Cheng, because Jiang Cheng didn’t matter, and that was the price he’d paid all his life.

Lan Xichen was one of the few who made him want more. More from life, more from himself. To be better, to be… honestly, he didn’t know. Someone worth the smiles Lan Xichen always gave him, worth his time and effort and respect. But wanting more for Lan Xichen had not meant he’d had to guess where they stood with one another. Lan Xichen had always gone out of his way to show Jiang Cheng just how high a regard he held for YunmengJiang and for Jiang Cheng. He was bound to the Jin and Nie through sworn brotherhood, but Jiang Cheng had never doubted Lan Xichen had sworn a part of himself to Jiang Cheng as well. They were equals, as close to friends as Jiang Cheng dared to hope for, and until today they’d held a balance, secure in their places in the world and with each other.

Now, Jiang Cheng felt that doubt again and he only had himself to blame for it. Never had someone put up such a fight for him like this, especially not to uphold the end of a foolish joke. Never had anyone realized he was pulling away and refused to let him escape either, nor refused to leave him behind. But here Lan Xichen was doing just that, worried and earnest and far too determined for some unfathomable reason to keep the betrothal in place. To keep him, perhaps. And that… Jiang Cheng had no idea what to feel about that.

Letting Lan Xichen through the door felt far more significant than simply accepting him into his space. It wasn’t even his own housing, for gods’ sake! But he felt raw, pulled open all the same, like it wasn’t the room he had invited Lan Xichen into, but something more private, something hidden, tucked away, so vulnerable and panicked he didn’t even know how to make it stop screaming. If he’d invited the man to join him in bed, or into a bath, it’d be less terrifying he was certain, and he was furious that he’d allowed Lan Xichen to plant hope in his heart, to sweep him off his feet, to let him dream. He’d long known dreams were not for him, hope was not for him, and it was frankly pathetic that his walls could crumble so easily. This was a joke, nothing more, and Lan Xichen was an utter fool for wanting it.

But the First Jade of Lan was also a force of nature, all encompassing, gentle on his own terms. If anyone could tell time to stop, ask the very world to halt in place just to preserve a moment such as this, Jiang Cheng knew Lan Xichen would be able to do it, and effortlessly. Was it truly so shocking then that he’d managed to get past Jiang Cheng’s defenses so easily? He was far more stubborn than anyone ever gave him credit for, frustratingly so. Jiang Cheng had just never imagined he would be a reason Lan Xichen would be that stubborn. That he, Jiang Cheng, could be worth that sort of effort.

And so, mutely, feeling stiff and scared, Jiang Cheng shut the door behind Lan Xichen and watched the man practically float to the tea table, pleased and serene, as though he hadn’t just turned Jiang Cheng’s world on its head. As though he had no idea just what he was doing to Jiang Cheng’s heart. Which, more than likely, he didn’t. Not even Jiang Cheng understood it. It made him want to shout, yell, break things. It made him want to smile, ludicrously, and fall so far into what Lan Xichen was offering that he’d never resurface. Not knowing the why kept him locked between those two extremes, tugged in both directions, without a clear out in sight.

Years of feeling adrift, of uncertain guessing, came back in a rush. It was almost a relief how quickly his body remembered the shape of it: how straight to stand, how firmly to scowl. His voice had learned long ago to remain calm and powerful, no matter the turmoil coiling inside his chest, and he drew on it now, putting on that mask of being okay if only so he could collect his nerves and not do something foolish. He needed calm, he needed control, and he obviously couldn’t trust himself in regards to Lan Xichen at the moment, not when he couldn’t even decide if he wanted to punch that stupid smile right off his face, or say something he knew would keep it there, a light in the darkness, just for him.

“A-Ling, stop splashing,” Jiang Cheng chided, turning his back on Lan Xichen to refocus on his nephew. If Lan Xichen held the power to make him want more, Jin Ling had held it first, and tenfold, and he was not about to surrender this moment with Jin Ling for anyone, ridiculous betrothed or otherwise. His nephew, pouting and covered in bubbles, hair wild and sticking to his cheeks, stopped slapping the soapy surface of his bath water and instead scooped up and smashed the bubble pile into his face, giggling all the while. If Jiang Cheng’s heart was in trouble before while gripped in Lan Xichen’s hands, it was utterly lost in Jin Ling’s possession and that was the only freefall he knew how to tolerate.

Like the room wasn’t spinning, like there wasn’t a laughing, beautiful, impossible man bearing witness to what no one was ever allowed to see, Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes and retook his seat at the side of the tub, uncaring when Jin Ling splattered his cheek with bubbles. He’d long given up fighting against it. Jin Ling’s happiness and laughter were worth more than a brief wet mess, and whatever embarrassment he’d held before disappeared under the force of the gleeful smile peeking out at him over the tub.

If Lan Xichen wasn’t there, watching them with his too dark eyes and endless understanding, Jiang Cheng could answer that happiness with his own. He fought it down, angry and flustered, and wished he’d never allowed Lan Xichen to agree to his proposal. That’d he’d been strong enough to resist the draw of someone standing beside him, to break off everything before his heart had dared to get attached in any way. If Jiang Cheng were a lesser man he’d ask him to leave, but he could not summon the words even if he wanted to, nor the nerve. Nor the want. And that was that, then. He was trapped in a snare of his own making. Typical.

“I see you didn’t drown all the way,” Jiang Cheng huffed and pulled strands of inky mess from Jin Ling’s mouth, resuming the bath from where they’d left off: a teasing remark about not drowning as he got up to answer the door. Jin Ling was clearly not drowned, but was more wet than ever, and Jiang Cheng managed a smirk to see it. “Just half way.”

“I told you I wouldn’t, jiu-jiu,” Jin Ling said, all frustrating prince and soapy crown, his little nose in the air. “I can wash myself!”

Nevermind that Jiang Cheng had washed Jin Ling’s hair not even a half hour before. Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow at him, but was ignored given Jin Ling shifted focus to rubbing at the remnants of his Jin mark as though to further prove his point, little more than a tiny smear under the force of the soap Jiang Cheng had found. They’d been working on scrubbing it away for a fresh application when Lan Xichen had knocked and it seemed Jin Ling had made little progress finishing the job alone. Jiang Cheng didn’t comment on it, lest the boy start pouting harder. 

“Jiu-jiu, is it off?”

“Almost.” He set the toys in his lap so he could pull back his sleeve and rub between Jin Ling’s brows. Thankfully, the boy had yet to notice them, which meant he had a few more blessed moments to just breathe and soak in his nephew’s presence. The moment the toys joined Jin Ling in the tub, Jiang Cheng would not be needed and he’d be forced to face Lan Xichen, since Jin Ling preferred to play alone when it came to his bath time. The thought had his stomach swooping.

He rubbed the mark and it came away after a few circles of his thumb. “There.”

Jin Ling touched the spot and giggled, his smile wide and all teeth. As always, Elder Sister was there in the corners of his face, her sweetness soft in the snub of Jin Ling’s nose, the curl of his pouty mouth. Jiang Cheng swallowed hard and smiled softly back, just a little, and felt the pain come, ebbing into his heart. For once, it did not break, but it was a near thing. It honestly hurt less when it did inevitably burst.

“Do you want to come out now, or do you want to play?” He knew the answer, of course, but he still wanted Jin Ling to have the choice, if only so he knew he had it.

“Play!” Jin Ling splashed again and laughed a delighted laugh when Jiang Cheng scowled at him. “I’m going to play, please.”

Jiang Cheng steeled himself and offered the toys. “Here then, from your friends.”

Jin Ling’s eyes went wide as he took the boat and sheep. “Friends?” he asked, awed at the very idea.

“The boys you were playing with earlier,” Jiang Cheng reiterated, feeling a spike of helpless anger at Jin Ling’s surprise. He knew his nephew struggled in the Jin court with the other children, who made fun of him for being an orphan, and a spoiled one at that. Introducing him to the YunmengJiang juniors had been a better outcome, but Jin Ling was only with him for four months of the year. It was hard for him to make lasting friendships with those he barely got to see.

He wasn’t sure if it would be any better with two Lan boys, but he found himself praying it could somehow be, even if he had no idea how it could ever work. They certainly were too well behaved to tease Jin Ling about his lack of parents, but proud enough not to let Jin Ling walk all over them. Unfortunately, Jiang Cheng was useless when it came to making friends, a trait that Jin Ling had inherited too. That helpless anger shifted to self-loathing in an all too familiar tilt. How useless an uncle was he that he couldn’t even help Jin Ling make friends?

But then again… the boat and sheep were olive branches. Or they could be. Maybe this budding friendship would be a similar dance to what he had with Lan Xichen. The First Jade had always made the first steps, making it easier for Jiang Cheng to answer. He’d learned over the years how to initiate between them - and he was damned engaged to the man because of his own rash ideas - but it had started with the Lan. Perhaps these boys, too, could help Jin Ling along. Perhaps, this time, Jin Ling wouldn’t be left behind as Jiang Cheng had been.

“We’ll see them at dinner,” Jiang Cheng murmured, hating that this was all he could give, but by the gods he was going to give it. “You can give the toys back and thank them. That’s what friends do. They share.”

“Friends share,” Jin Ling soaked that in with the same fervor he gave to everything else Jiang Cheng gave him that had come from Elder Sister. “I will thank them for the boat and for the…” He went cross-eyed and held up the poor doodled on animal. “Jiu-jiu, what is this?”

“It’s a sheep,” Jiang Cheng snorted. “Like farmer Po has at the front gates of Lotus Pier.”

Jin Ling gasped in recognition and looked at the sheep with great enthusiasm. “Farmer Po’s sheep,” he parroted and set it in the boat. Seeing it fit had him grinning immediately. “Farmer Po’s sheep needs to cross the pond,” he said grandly and carelessly drug the boat and its smiling passenger across the bubbles.

Jiang Cheng snorted again. He wished a sheep in a boat was an odd thing to see, but it wasn’t. Just last summer he’d herded a flock across the river and had had to corral nearly a dozen screaming lambs onto his personal transport. Not that Jin Ling knew about that, but perhaps when he was older he would be able to come for a few weeks to help the annual moving of the herds, just as Jiang Cheng had helped the shepherds in his own youth and continued to do year after year. It built a stubborn will, if not character, and that was definitely something he wanted Jin Ling to perfect before he had to become leader of his own sect and be hounded by his own elders, just as Jiang Cheng was.

“Why is the sheep in a boat?” he asked, loathe to face reality just yet. He could hear Lan Xichen moving the teapot he’d gotten ready as the tub was filled and knew he’d be unable to ignore him much longer, but it was hard to convince his body to move, even if Jin Ling was quickly losing interest in him in favor of the toys.

“Can’t swim,” Jin Ling told him, a sudden scholar of all things sheep and a confidently incorrect one at that. Jiang Cheng nodded seriously regardless.

“It’s good that you have a boat handy then. Make sure it does not sink,” he warned.

“I won't, jiu-jiu,” Jin Ling huffed, a sailing expert now too, apparently. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes, knowing it was pointless to keep inserting himself into Jin Ling’s play now that he was thoroughly distracted in his own little world, and willed his breathing to steady out as he finally stood on leaden feet and turned to his guest.

His very amused and rather rudely attractive guest. “Is that your great wisdom, Sect Leader Jiang?” Lan Xichen asked and it almost didn’t sound teasing. Almost. “Do not let the boat sink?”

“Of course, Sect Leader Lan,” Jiang Cheng took the olive branch as it was given and sat down across from the man the way he had many times before, forcing himself to face Lan Xichen - and his fears - head on. “Any man who lives and dies by the turn of the river’s tide knows the most important thing is to keep your boat above water, not below it.”

Lan Xichen hummed in agreement and poured Jiang Cheng a cup of tea. It was absurd how the man could make serving tea look like an art form, one that never lost its splendor no matter how often he’d witnessed it. Jiang Cheng told himself he wasn’t a little dazzled as he took the offered cup.

“It is rather wise,” Lan Xichen mused, like it truly was great wisdom, and sipped his own drink in thought. “Any man that gambles his livelihood on one course of action must take care that it remains afloat. To let it sink entirely would not only ruin his own reputation, but affect those that depend on him.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t need the pointed look, nor those arched eyebrows rising at him to get the gist of just where Lan Xichen was angling their conversation. Because of course the man danced with words with the same ease he danced with Jiang Cheng. “Marriage to you is not my boat, Lan Xichen. And it’s not yours, either.”

Lan Xichen did not seem surprised by his words, though his smile had a sad tint to it as he regarded him. “And just what is your boat, Jiang Wanyin?”

Behind them, Jin Ling started to sing a song to the sheep and Jiang Cheng felt that old resolve that had led him here, had led them all here, solidify around his heart like armor. More and more until he was once more steel. He set down his cup with far too steady hands.

“You know who my boat is,” he said, nearly defiant, because Lan Xichen was far from blind and only a true fool wouldn’t be able to answer that question. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he stays above water.”

“I know you will,” Lan Xichen assured him, all confidence, and Jiang Cheng felt something in him relax an inch, knowing he did not have to prove his love for his nephew at the very least. “But I have to wonder… must you insist on doing it alone?”

“Who do I have?” The question ripped out of him before he could even think of calling it back, caustic and cruel. He laughed through the words, vicious, and his smile distorted further in the reflection he stared down through his tea. Man and monster indeed. “No one stays, Lan Xichen, not with me. Who else can I count on then but myself?”

It was harsh, but true, and Jiang Cheng felt nothing but furious calm grip him when he fearlessly met Lan Xichen’s eye. He did not know what the man could see in his face, or could not see, but seeing Lan Xichen glance away felt like bitter victory.

Now you see, he thought, and further turned to stone, if only so he did not shatter when Lan Xichen inevitably turned from him completely. Now you know why you should have said no.

To his credit, Lan Xichen seemed to give his words due thought and consideration, solemn, but sincere all the same. Jiang Cheng waited in silence, itchy with the intent to rip out all the roots Lan Xichen had managed to plant inside him the moment he rescinded their betrothal, and folded his hands in his lap so he did not destroy the teacup accidentally. He’d done enough collateral damage here.

Because Lan Xichen, as always, was right. Ruining his reputation like this did affect others around him. Saying that implied Lan Xichen cared about him, perhaps too much, but there was little Jiang Cheng could do about that now except take it all with grace and go on with his life, as he always did. It wasn’t like his hold on Lan Xichen was meant to be kept, after all. Borrowed time, that was all this was. All it ever would be. And the sooner he reminded his stupid heart of that fact, the better.

But Lan Xichen had a terrible habit of not doing what Jiang Cheng expected. When their eyes met again, Lan Xichen did not seem resigned, nor sorry. He looked determined, gentle, and also incredibly stubborn. “Would you say you trust me, Jiang Wanyin?” he asked and even his voice was steady, sure.

It had the effect of a battering ram. Jiang Cheng nearly flinched to feel it.

“As much as I can trust anyone,” he allowed, hating the bite of self-conscious heat that pulled from him. “Yes.” 

Lan Xichen nodded once, shoulders relaxing from a tenseness Jiang Cheng had not even noticed, and retook his cup to sip it.  When he set it down again, he seemed assured and poised, a beacon of light so steady it hurt to look at him. “I can not say what the future will bring, nor can I promise you anything grand. All I can give is what you allow me to give. I am here, I am willing, and I am ready to be your partner.”

Jiang Cheng bit down a frustrated growl, that horrid flush moving down his neck and biting into his nose. How could a man so intelligent be as stubbornly dense as a wall? “You don’t have to be,” he reminded, edging on desperate and angry when he felt his defenses start to tremble again, so easily.

“I don’t,” Lan Xichen agreed readily enough and reached across the table, palm up in open invitation in an echo of the way Jiang Cheng had grabbed his hand before. “Yet I wish for it all the same.”

Jiang Cheng stared at his hand, at his smile, his impossible eyes. He looked sweet, confident in his choice, and for once Jiang Cheng felt his arguments die on his tongue. Even faced with a perfect out, faced with Jiang Cheng’s darkness and doubts, he was still choosing this. Choosing him. All over again, he felt cornered, afraid, vulnerable, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, his world narrowing down to a singing child at his back… and a promise before him, a hand outstretched, reaching.

“I cannot know where this path will take us,” Lan Xichen murmured, somehow even more tender as though he could feel Jiang Cheng’s slide towards surrender, “but I am ready to stand with you, if you’ll allow me that honor?”

He really was insane. This was insane. It was madness, foolishness, the most terrible, horrible thing. Stone armor meant nothing and Jiang Cheng could feel his heart shake in place, caught in hope, in want, in desperate, aching need and heady, potent fear. He didn’t even know what it wanted, hoped for, craved, but he knew that fear all too well, and that, suddenly, he was not strong enough to run away from this despite it all. Not this time.

“I can’t promise you anything either,” Jiang Cheng told him, spirit lilting along with Jin Ling’s voice as it rose and swayed with his singing. “My boat is not your boat, after all.”

“It could be,” Lan Xichen offered, shameless fool he truly was. “But that is my choice, Jiang Wanyin, as are you.”

And that… well, there was no fighting that. The words alone made it hard to breathe, even as he blushed at how candidly they were stated. It got him a huffed laugh from Lan Xichen, something that should have made him recoil, give him the boost he needed to fully get up and run, but it did not. Something settled in him, a lot like resignation and poisonous with hope, and he closed his eyes. Breathed in, out, braced himself.

When Jiang Cheng finally spoke, his voice felt so very far away. “This is Sect Leader Lan’s formal proposal then?”

Lan Xichen downright glowed, hearing that, and his fingers flexed, waiting. “It is, Sect Leader Jiang.”

It would not end well, Jiang Cheng was certain of that. Good intentions or not, one day it would end. He should not hope for a better outcome, should not want to trust in what was being offered. But he found that he did. He wanted this. Wanted someone to finally, finally see him as worthy. And maybe it meant destruction, saying yes to Lan Xichen, but Jiang Cheng was used to pain. What was one more heartache in a long string of heartaches? What was more agony when it was all he could feel, some days? Maybe it would kill him, maybe it would save him. As Lan Xichen said, how could they know?

So he bit down the misgivings, the guilt, the fear, and set his hand over Lan Xichen’s, allowed the man’s fingers to wrap around his wrist, securing him there, and met his gaze squarely. A smile met him, beckoning, and Jiang Cheng felt himself hesitate only a moment, then everything was freefall, and he gave in with all his might.

“I accept.”

Chapter Text

It was always strange, looking back on the day and realizing the morning felt like an entirely different lifetime compared to the evening. Jiang Cheng had started with petty vengeance and showing Jin Ling snow, before starting in on the joke with Lan Xichen. He could remember every detail, every vindictive thought, but it felt far away, as though a separate existence from the one he sat in now: his life before proposing to Lan Xichen, and life after.

He wasn’t sure why it felt different, why he felt he was at a beginning rather than an intermission, but he did. He’d sipped tea like this with Lan Xichen hundreds of times, had sat and listened to Jin Ling play in a bath a hundred times more. The only real difference was that he had a new title, betrothed, and it was affecting him more than he’d expected it to. Was allowing it to affect him more than he should, perhaps. Not to say he was surprised it was, because anything that Lan Xichen had a hand in was destined to upturn his life in one way or another, but still.

Was it really just this morning that he thought he’d had it all figured out?

The soft thud of wooden toys hitting the towel on the floor heralded the end of Jin Ling’s bath and the chance for a welcome distraction. “Jiu-jiu, time to get dry, please.”

Jiang Cheng was up before Jin Ling had even started his poor attempts to get out of the tub and he quickly grabbed a towel to fold the boy into once he stumbled free.

“Did the sheep make it across the pond?” Jiang Cheng asked, heat biting at his ears as he asked it, given Lan Xichen was still watching them, that silly, sweet grin on his lips. He knelt down and forced himself to focus on rubbing Jin Ling dry, focus on the routine of it all instead of his audience, but still that newness of feeling persisted.

“Farmer Po’s sheep fell out,” Jin Ling told him proudly and pat at his hand as though the news were worrisome. “But don’t worry, jiu-jiu, I taught it to swim.”

It didn’t work like that, would never work like that, and Jiang Cheng had to bite down a laugh. He scowled to cover the near hysterical urge to do so. “A good leader always helps those in need,” he nodded.

“Farmer Po’s sheep crossed the pond,” Jin Ling nodded back, agreeing with his lesson, and beamed up at him when Jiang Cheng started wiping his cheeks. He was ticklish and even though Jiang Cheng had never intentionally poked his nephew, the boy was horribly sensitive without any sort of prodding and soon Jin Ling was a wiggling little fish, giggling in delight.

“Hold still, you monkey,” Jiang Cheng huffed and artfully pulled him back in when Jin Ling threatened to dance out of the towel entirely. He scrubbed the cloth up Jin Ling’s sides and down his legs, before he finally just wrapped him up like an egg roll and tucked him under his arm to carry him off, which only had Jin Ling’s laughter peeling into a higher, more delighted pitch, little feet kicking uselessly in the air.

He remembered, after the fact, that Lan Xichen was watching and would probably see this as something very strange. Jiang Cheng did his best to fight down his blush as he met the man’s highly amused stare. He didn’t seem to be put off by the fact Jaing Cheng was carrying the Jin heir like a sack of turnips, which was probably a good sign. At the very least he wasn’t as straight-laced as Lan Qiren, who no doubt would have thrown the teapot at him by now. Whoops.  

“I’m afraid Cloud Recesses is overrun with gerbils,” he said solemnly, taking the chance. He lifted his arm a little as though to prove the point. “Massive size too. You may want to check your storehouse for missing food.”

Lan Xichen folded forward, hand over his mouth to hide his mirth, and it felt like sweet, sweet victory. Jin Ling squealing through his laughter that he was not a gerbil, jiu-jiu just made it that much better.

Now only if it weren’t so damned weird to act this way and not feel he was being judged or scolded for it.

Jiang Cheng moved to where the fire was burning and set Jin Ling down in front of it to continue drying him off. The boy was giggling loudly, but for once stayed relatively still if only to tell him all about how he’d taught the sheep to swim. He was babbling so quickly that only half of it made sense, but Jiang Cheng let him run his mouth if only so it didn’t happen later with a bigger audience. It meant more that Jin Ling wanted to tell Jiang Cheng everything then Jiang Cheng actually understanding it anyway.

He held up each layer of robes and Jin Ling spun into them in their well rehearsed dance, then puffed up when Jiang Cheng finally tied off the sash.

“Do you want a braid or just pulled back?” Jiang Cheng asked him. A half-tail top knot would be far more proper, but he was only five and his hair was wild at the best of times. Jiang Cheng had learned quickly that braiding it when it was wet helped keep it from becoming a rat’s nest as fast as it would if tied the other way. But he gave the option regardless, wanting Jin Ling to think it through for himself.

“Braid please, jiu-jiu,” Jing Ling chirped, bouncing on his heels. Jiang Cheng nodded once and got up to grab the small pouch he’d brought with Jin Ling’s comb and vermillian paint, as well as Jin Ling’s red hair ribbon, which always made his gut lurch.

Unbidden, Lan Wangji’s cold face flashed in his mind, followed by the echo of Wei Wuxian’s laughter. How could you leave me for him? the thoughts whispered before he could kill them outright, petty, jealous, confused. What did it matter now that his once brother had been blinded by a fool’s love? He’d destroyed everything Jiang Cheng had loved and then destroyed himself. Jiang Cheng’s rage could wait for the day Wei Wuxian dared to resurrect, when he could look Wei Wuxian in the eye before burning him down. That was the only ending left for them and it certainly had no place in Jin Ling’s orbit. Not now, in any case.

“Jiu-jiu?”

Jiang Cheng snapped out of glaring at the ribbon and turned back to Jin Ling. The boy was looking at him with his head tilted, eyes soft and wide. Elder Sister, again, smiling at him through her baby’s gaze. Jiang Cheng forced away Wei Wuxian’s bitter memory to hold firmly onto her legacy instead and do his best to not scowl at his nephew.

“Come here then, little gerbil. If I don’t start on that hair now, we’ll be pulling knots out of it all night.”

“I’m not a gerbil!” Jin Ling argued but ran up to him easily enough. “Jiu-jiu, I’m not!”

“You look like a gerbil to me,” Jiang Cheng huffed and led the way back to the tea table, where Lan Xichen was still hopelessly smiling at them both, ridiculous and lovely. Jiang Cheng felt heat crawling down his neck again as he reclaimed his seat. “What do you say, Lan Xichen? Gerbil or not?”

“Being well acquainted with A-Yi, I’d have to agree with you, Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Xichen said and reached out to tickle Jin Ling’s neck before he could pout too hard. “Do not fret, Young Master Jin, gerbils are more than welcome at Cloud Recesses, even if they do eat all our food.”

“I only ate soup, jiu-mu,” Jin Ling giggled hard, turtling his neck and shoulders as he tried to twist away.

“You did, but it’s nearly dinner time,” Lan Xichen reminded him, all sweetness. “And I think A-Yuan and A-Yi will be happy to have you sit with them.”

“Friends sit with friends?” Jin Ling asked.

Lan Xichen chucked his chin, just as he had before, and it was still far too cute for Jiang Cheng’s heart to take. Damn it. “They do.”

“Don’t forget you have to give the toys back,” Jiang Cheng added in as he adjusted Jin Ling to the best position to start braiding. He hoped it would forstall anymore sweetness between Jin Ling and Lan Xichen, lest he make an even bigger fool of himself. “Friends also share, remember?”

“I remember, jiu-jiu,” Jin Ling hummed happily, eyes squinting into perfect little half moons. “I have friends and I share.”

Jiang Cheng had to swallow at that one, hoping against hope that for once luck would shine on them and let Jin Ling have friends, friends he’d found all on his own. “Good job, A-Ling,” he murmured, proud regardless, teasing out the last of the tangles before beginning the weave at the top of the boy’s crown. He wove in the red braid, knowing Jin Ling liked the splash of color, and did his best to keep Wei Wuxian’s ghost from souring his heart more than it already had.

It helped that Lan Xichen was watching him raptly, a distraction all his own. “You are very skillful,” he remarked.

“Braids are a part of our culture,” Jiang Cheng told him, fighting down another flush of pride. There was no point of being proud of braiding hair, for gods' sake. It was a necessity, not just pretty decoration. “Well, ancient culture, but new inductees have their hair styled in braids. I’ve been doing this all my life.”

Not to mention with the way Jin Ling was usually wiggling about, he’d become even more adept than he’d been before Jin Ling had started demanding braids for bed. The Fearless Sandu Shengshou, monster of lightning and fury, master of bathtimes and braids. The true duality of man.

He wrapped the end of the braid in the ribbon before tying it off, then gave Jin Ling a gentle push to let him know he was free. “Alright, turn around, we need to get your mark back on.”

Jin Ling turned and stood up tall, cheeks puffed in the effort he was giving to stay perfectly still. It was the only time ever he did so and the only time Jiang Cheng thought to thank his brother-in-law’s memory. Jin Ling was a proud Jin member, through and through, but in these moments waiting for his mark, all he wanted was to be just like his late father.

Jiang Cheng, loathe as he was to disappoint the boy, dipped his finger into the vermillion paint with a low question. “Do you remember why you wear the mark?”

He asked it every time and the answer had changed over the years. To be like ba-ba, to be a Jin. To make shu-shu proud. Today, as it was the time before, Jin Ling’s answer was far more complex. “To be a good Jin,” he said, eyes crossing to watch Jiang Cheng’s hand approach. “Mind open, because a good leader listens.”

Jiang Cheng smiled, unable to help it, and gently dotted the spot between Jin Ling’s eyes. Over the years, he’d perfected it, making a perfect circle, and he dabbed it with confidence, until it was vibrant and strong enough to stay.

To keep Jin Ling from poking it, Jiang Cheng gently guided the boy’s tiny hands over the white peony on his golden robes. “Tell me, A-Ling, why do the Jin’s favor the peony?”

“Honor,” Jin Ling brightened, knowing that answer was correct.

“And why do the Jiang favor the lotus?”

“Strength of mind,” the boy said, confident in that too.

“The lotus rises from the mud,” Jiang Cheng nodded, pleased. “We rise from the mud to be our best selves. Trust in yourself and you will stand tall. Remember that, A-Ling.” He touched his nephew’s heartbeat, so small yet strong against his fingers. “You have all the strength you need, right here.”

“I remember, jiu-jiu,” Jin Ling said with a grin and went cross-eyed again, as though that would help him see his mark. “Is it dry?”

“Not yet,” Jiang Cheng steadied his fluttering hands before glancing over at Lan Xichen. The man looked utterly lost in what he was seeing, like he was reading a romance, or like he was some doting wife. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes and got a chuckle from the man. “A-Ling, do you know why the Lan symbol is a cloud?”

Jin Ling thought on that and shook his head, looking uncertainly at Lan Xichen. “No I don’t, jiu-jiu.”

“The cloud is the symbol of the gods’ hand on earth,” Jiang Cheng explained and gently tilted Jin Ling’s face back to him. “Clouds bring rain and rain brings life to the earth.”

“Rain makes the rivers,” Jin Ling gasped a little, making the connection. “Rivers make the mud, makes the lotus!”

Jiang Cheng snorted softly, but couldn’t exactly argue that. “It does. A good leader understands the culture of his allies, always. Remember to always respect other clans and learn from them all that you can.”

Jin Ling nodded, eager, and pat at Jiang Cheng’s cheek like a little king bestowing a promotion. “Can I go play now? With my friends?”

Jiang Cheng sighed, but let him go. “Dinner first, so grab your shoes and coat. You can play with your friends after.”

Jin Ling pouted but hurried off obediently enough. Thank the gods the boy had a sincere love of food. He didn’t know how many tantrums they’d avoided with the promise of a snack. Jiang Cheng rubbed his forehead and sighed.

“You two have quite the bond,” Lan Xichen murmured, smiling while Jin Ling scrambled to grab all his things.

“He’s all I have,” Jiang Cheng said just as quietly, a small smile answering Lan Xichen’s on his own face, crooked and helpless. “And for some unfathomable reason he likes me. I’m not about to waste that.”

“He loves you because of who you are,” Lan Xichen told him, ever wise and unhelpful, and just sat there not elaborating when Jiang Cheng gave him a look.

Jin Ling, as he usually did, broke the silence by dumping his coat and shoes unceremoniously into Jiang Cheng’s lap and then stood there with his nose in the air, full Jin princeling. “I’m ready to go, please.”

“Why is it you remember your manners when food is involved?” Jiang Cheng huffed and held up the coat for Jin Ling to wiggle into. He pulled the boy in close once the sash was secure so Jin Ling could use him as a support and slipped on his shoes.

Jin Ling just grinned at that and pat at Jiang Cheng’s hair. “It’s jiu-jiu’s food?”

“Not this time,” Jiang Cheng huffed, cheeks heating as that comment earned him another curious and charmed look from Lan Xichen. “You’re a guest, remember? You need to eat the food you’re given.”

Another pout, but it went away quickly enough. “Okay, jiu-jiu. We go now? Please.”

He sighed again and nodded, waving Jin Ling off so he could get his own cloak on. “Don’t forget the toys, A-Ling.”

“I won’t!”

Seeing Jin Ling had returned to the tub to pick them up, Jiang Cheng took the moment to stand and stretch and resolutely ignore Lan Xichen’s too sweet smile. He felt almost itchy as he crossed the room to grab his cloak and it got steadily worse in hearing Lan Xichen follow suit. It was unfair enough how stunning the man was draped in long fabric and fleece, but looking at him like that while doing so was making his heart flutter in a way that couldn’t be normal. Either he’d drop dead on the spot from it or stop breathing and then drop dead. There didn’t seem to be another option.

“I suppose we’ll have to make some sort of announcement during the meal,” Lan Xichen mused, a better man than Jiang Cheng deserved to not comment on Jiang Cheng’s culinary skills or his motherly ways.

“We’re in your sect, so you decide when to announce it,” Jiang Cheng said, since it was only right, and hated the way his heart stuttered more when Jin Ling ran up to Lan Xichen in excitement.

“Look, look, jiu-mu,” he said, lifting the toys. Never mind that Lan Xichen had already seen them. That never seemed to matter much to a five year old brain. “A boat! And Farmer Po’s sheep!”

“A very good boat, from what I hear,” Lan Xichen praised the boy, who puffed up with joy. “Did you get the sheep safely across the tub?”

Jin Ling nodded, his grin practically falling off his face. “I taught Farmer Po’s sheep to swim!”

“Did you?” Lan Xichen knelt down and gently tugged on Jin Ling’s cloak to straighten it out. “And would Young Master Jin teach me to swim? I’m afraid your jiu-mu never learned how.”

A tiny gasp. “I’m a good swimmer!” Jin Ling told him with the confidence of an old master in his craft, which Jiang Cheng shook his head at. The boy still only paddled about like a dog and floated when he got tired, but obviously that merited being proud of. “I’ll teach you!”

Jiang Cheng snorted, just imagining Jin Ling ordering Lan Xichen around from the dock while the man hopelessly drowned. It was far too easy to imagine. “We both will,” he said, nodding once to Lan Xichen to show he meant it. “If you really want to learn, I’ll teach you.”

Lan Xichen looked up, surprise in his face that quickly melted into his usual sweet warmth. Jiang Cheng hated the bite of heat that drew down his neck immediately. “Thank you, Jiang Wanyin. I may have to take you up on that one day.”

“You’d better,” Jiang Cheng said seriously. “With my luck, you’d drown within a day of living at Lotus Pier and then I’d never hear the end of it.”

Lan Xichen huffed his little nose laugh at that and stood, gesturing them all to the door. “I’ll do my very best not to inconvenience you, Sect Leader Jiang.”

Jiang Cheng scowled so he wouldn’t smile like a lunatic. Fuck. “As you should, Sect Leader Lan,” he said and took a cue from Jin Ling for once, sticking his nose in the air.

Lan Xichen laughed again, a bit louder, and Jiang Cheng smirked to see the man’s ears go as red as his own. Finally, some common ground.

Jiang Cheng slid open the door and had to immediately grab Jin Ling’s hood. The boy pouted up at him. “Don’t rush out. Remember what I taught you about rivers? Always check how deep it is?”

He pointed outside, where the snow, falling much heavier now, had piled up over the first steps leading into their rooms.

“Snow is deep?” Jin Ling asked, eyes wide. He stepped in close to Jiang Cheng, recognizing the danger, or at least the chance to get far too much snow in his shoes than he’d bargained for. “How deep, jiu-jiu?”

“Depends on how much it’s been snowing, and how long,” Jiang Cheng explained and sank Sandu’s sheathe into the snow. Jin Ling gasped at how far it went down. “See?”

“Lot of snow, falls for a long time,” Jin Ling said, holding the toys close, and looked up at Lan Xichen curiously. “Does it snow a lot? Because it’s in the mountains?”

“That’s right, Young Master Jin,” Lan Xichen said and carefully tugged Jin Ling’s hood over his still damp braid. “We get a lot of snow here, though I hear Lotus Pier stays warm and rainy this time of the year.”

“Home is warm because it’s west,” Jin Ling piped up eagerly, remembering the impromptu geography lesson from earlier. Jiang Cheng felt his chest swell with pride at that gleam of intelligence. His mother’s smarts, that. She’d have been so proud.

“It is that,” Lan Xichen said, all gentle amusement, and gave both Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng a smile. “I fear we’ll have to brave some snow in our shoes to get to the dining hall.”

“It’s no matter,” Jiang Cheng said, far too used to wet shoes anyway, and lifted Jin Ling up into his arms so he didn’t have to worry about the boy face planting into a particularly full bough. “Hold onto your toys, A-Ling. You don’t want to lose them.”

“I won’t, jiu-jiu,” Jin Ling promised, wrapping his arms over his chest and squishing the boat and sheep close. His eyes were huge and curious as they stepped out, grinning at the crunch under their feet and giggling each time a snowflake landed on his face. “It’s cold, jiu-mu! Cold and wet.”

“It is indeed,” Lan Xichen said, far more graceful trudging through knee deep snow than he had any right to be. Damn Lans and their perfection. “Remember to tell me when you get too cold and wet, Young Master Jin.”

Jin Ling scrunched his nose. “I’m not cold, jiu-mu,” he promised. “Not sick.”

A soft, gentle laugh. Jiang Cheng had never realized before how it swayed the way the chimes did, a lilting melody on the otherwise chilly breeze. “Let’s be sure to keep it that way.”

Jiang Cheng could see blurs of white on the walkways as they crossed the courtyard, like ghosts fluttering here and there amidst the snowy fog. Ghosts with rather eager faces as they picked out Lan Xichen from the blankness of their world.

“Zewu-jun! Sect Leader Jiang!” A-Yi waved from the bridge and hurried over to the stairways as they climbed up the steps, swarmed by a group of others, all greeting them. They reminded Jiang Cheng immediately of a gaggle of goslings, chirping in excitement as their mother goose returned to them. He did his best to reign in a snort as he set Jin Ling down amongst them, a golden chick in a swarm of white.

Jin Ling plastered to his side, uncertain of all the greetings coming at him from unknown kids, but he brightened when A-Yi waded over. He shoved the toys at the boy abruptly, showcasing how sadly inexperienced he truly was with friends, but to A-Yi’s credit he simply took them and grinned, showing off his missing tooth proudly.

“Thanks for the toys,” Jin Ling told him, red faced and almost shy now that his moment of bravery was gone. He stepped back into Jiang Cheng again and Jiang Cheng braced him with a steady hand to let him know he had support. “Thanks for sharing.”

“That’s what friends do,” A-Yi said, simple as that, and tucked the toys under one arm to offer his hand to Jin Ling. “A-Yuan is in the dining hall already. Do you want to sit with us?”

Jin Ling blinked, surprised at the offer, and looked up at Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen for guidance. Jiang Cheng just nodded, giving him a pointed look, while Lan Xichen smiled. “How kind of you to offer, A-Yi. I’m sure Young Master Jin would love to.”

Hearing that was like giving permission and Jin Ling suddenly beamed, taking A-Yi’s hand. “I will sit with my friends,” he said grandly, eyes sparkling. A-Yi grinned right back and pulled him along, laughing, while the rest of the flock waddled after them.

“That went well,” Lan Xichen murmured, a gentle hand coming to rest on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder just as he felt his heart tug in the sudden emptiness of Jin Ling's place beside him. “I think he’ll do fine. A-Yi and A-Yuan are good boys. They’ll treat him with kindness.”

“It’s not just kindness he needs,” Jiang Cheng said, though felt himself melting anyway under that supportive hand. The relief was exceptionally potent, hearing Jin Ling laugh like that with A-Yi. “He needs true friends and he needs them to be friends he gets to choose, not just other children pushed at him because they’re the right age.”

“Only time will tell,” Lan Xichen hummed, neutral as he usually was, but there was a very warm sweetness in his eyes as he gently squeezed his fingers. “But I have a good feeling. We just need to have a little faith and trust they’ll find their own way. Children are far more resilient than we give them credit for. He will be alright.”

“I know he will be, he’s only five,” Jiang Cheng said, and for once he felt he could believe it. “I just want something to go right for once. He deserves that.”

Lan Xichen huffed his little nose laugh, sweet and far too kind when he met Jiang Cheng's eye. “He’ll always have you, Jiang Wanyin, if nothing else. And despite what you think, that is something very worthwhile.”

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian had once said that eating in the Lan dining hall was akin to a funeral buffet. All white robes, calm faces, utter silence. He said it’d given him the shivers and Jiang Cheng had agreed, at the time. 

Stepping into it now, Jiang Cheng felt it was more like walking into his ancestral hall, full of judgement and eerie stillness. The eyes of ancient bodies upon him, unseen but horribly felt, and the feeling of being weighed against standards he would never know or understand.

The Lan Elders sat at one end, the disciples filtered out towards the other. He could see Jin Ling talking excitedly with A-Yuan and A-Yi, as well as Lan Wangji, who was patiently folding vegetables over A-Yuan’s rice. The sight was oddly domestic, so far away from the perfect image of the Second Jade of Lan that Jiang Cheng was taken aback. He’d always assumed the man sat near the Elders, near his uncle, but watching him with the boys, it was clear this was routine, and that meant Jiang Cheng could technically get away with not sitting with Lan Qiren as a proper guest would, even if it also meant having to sit with his future brother-in-law. He honestly wasn’t sure which would be the less painful choice.

At least until he took one quick glance at the wall of stony faces and silence. Then he knew he’d rather sit with Lan Wangji at every dinner for the rest of his life then sit one meal with the Lan Elders. Fuck .

There was a certain kind of stress that came with dealing with one’s council, a stress in knowing that nothing you did would ever be good enough, that they could always find something to disagree with. More to just disagree on principle than to be outright contrary, Jiang Cheng was half convinced, but it could be disheartening and frustrating even at the best of times. It was a way of asserting control in his council, he knew that much, and had often wondered if all other Sect Elders were so opposing to their Sect Leader. He hoped, sincerely, that the Lan Elders weren’t nearly that bad and treated Lan Xichen with the respect he deserved.

He bowed to them lowly, each in turn for best effect, and ended with Lan Qiren, who Lan Xichen had assured him had not said no to this crazy venture. It was was hard to believe, especially with that frown on his face and his love of going by the rules, but he hadn’t had Jiang Cheng thrown out by the ear either, so he’d believe it.

“Teacher,” he began, head still low in respect.

“You call me teacher, yet your actions are not ones I would have taught,” Lan Qiren pointed out, admonishment clear. Jiang Cheng felt his ears go red and an old mortification slowly set in at being reprimanded like he was a misbehaving schoolboy. Gods, but he hadn’t felt that since his mother had passed.

Jiang Cheng forced himself into another bow. He hated ass-kissing at the best of times and this was no different. Only his respect for Lan Qiren and for Lan Xichen had him bowing low. Any other elder, any other place, and this would be going in a far different direction, he was certain.

Zidian sizzled on his finger, a warning his emotions were starting to tilt onto a path he needed to stop following. He breathed in, out, slow and steady, and reminded himself that humiliation only had as much power over him as he gave it. That being talked to like a child would only make his council squirm. He could carry the embarrassment if it meant that.

Like a suit of armor, his vengeful calm overcame him at that thought and he drowned in it, pulling it on until he was seamlessly Jiang Wanyin, Sect Leader, and Responsible Adult.

“This student humbly begs his teacher’s forgiveness. I will not go against you again.” He wouldn’t have to. It was clear they weren’t being stopped yet, so all he had to do was maintain the joke long enough for them to get wise later. And not be murdered by a grumpy uncle or brother-in-law in the meantime.

Lan Qiren huffed, stroking his beard, but looked somewhat mollified. “Sect Leader Jiang has much to learn of our ways still and his betrothal will be a study in it.”

Jiang Cheng bit down a victorious smirk. That would not help anyone. He bowed in thanks and stood tall, meeting his eye squarely, then across to all the others. “This Sect Leader expected nothing less, Old Master. I am willing to learn and listen to the advice of my betrothed’s council.”

Nods of approval, then smiles as Lan Xichen stepped up beside him, just as tall and proud. So, they were really doing this now then. He forced down another wild smile.

“Honored Elders, Sect Leader Jiang has asked me to marry him,” Lan Xichen said, though they all knew it by now. Even the disciples didn’t look that surprised. For a Clan that had forbidden gossip, word had definitely gotten around. “This Sect Leader has accepted and apologizes for going against our ways to do so. As an outsider, Sect Leader Jiang is ignorant to our ways and I ask that you not punish him for it, nor for my answering in kind. His reputation was in my hands and I could not hesitate.”

It was a smart political move, smoothing over the real truth with another, and Jiang Cheng looked over at him impressed. He was talking his way into trouble with a smile and his chin high, the way he did at Conferences when he was about to politely kill a bad idea at the knees and watch it topple.

He was handsome, always, but the almost vindictive way he knew to work his Elders was… beyond attractive. Who knew he could be mildly terrifying when he wanted to be? And that he’d like it so much? Shit.

Jiang Cheng took his cue and bowed again, flawless in the action to match Lan Xichen’s own perfect bow. He didn’t miss the grin Lan Xichen flashed at him in the movement, well hidden behind his hands and sleeves and visible only to Jiang Cheng. A fox and a troll, all in one bundle of perfection. What a combination.

You so have a type, he could almost hear Wei Wuxian say and killed the voice before it could echo too long, lest he start glaring death at the very people he was trying to endear himself to. “This Sect Leader has inconvenienced his future cultivation partner’s Elders, family, and disciples, and humbly asks for forgiveness for my ignorance and short notice. I know we have not completed a proper courtship and this is far from a proper announcement, so please pardon my selfish desires.”

It was still a surprise getting the nods back, knowing that, at least for now, they’d passed the test. He bowed once more, then felt a tug on his pinkie. He wanted to smile, ridiculously relieved, at the perfect out his nephew was saving him with.

“Jiu-jiu, sit with me?” Jin Ling asked, more a demand than a proper question, as was his way.

Jiang Cheng glanced over the Elders to gauge their reaction to that and found them smiling still. Perhaps he really could get away with sitting with Jin Ling and not near them. Still, manners were priority here.

He knelt down to meet Jin Ling’s eye, so the boy would know what he had to say was important, and Jin Ling immediately straightened. “You have to ask Old Master Lan,” he said and nodded to Lan Qiren once. He hoped the man knew he would sit at his left hand as propriety dictated if that was what the man wished. He hoped more that Lan Qiren would take pity on him and let him sit with his nephew. “You remember Old Master Lan, don’t you? He played with you at the Conference last year.”

“I remember, jiu-jiu,” Jin Ling assured him and smiled over at Lan Qiren who, to his amazement, smiled a little back. “Old Teacher told me about wai-gong.”

Wai-gong. Grandpa. Jiang Cheng felt a burn in his eyes he immediately blinked away. Lan Qiren, for his own part, looked almost bashful at being called out, but still nodded once at Jin Ling’s wide grin.

“Jiang-xiong was a friend. It is an honor to pass his legacy on to his grandson,” Lan Qiren told Jiang Cheng, which he’d known, in theory, the closeness of his father and the Old Master. They’d grown up together, a story he’d heard from the day Wei Wuxian started courting friendship with his own grumpy Lan. But hearing it spoken so plainly was still a shock and pain to his heart.

“You honor him,” Jiang Cheng said, truly meaning that, and hoped his gratitude was apparent enough without having to say the words.

“Old Teacher, jiu-jiu can sit with me?” Jin Ling asked, uncaring of the atmosphere, as he usually was. He set a hand on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder and tugged the robe there. “Family sits together. Family and friends. Jiu-jiu can sit with me and my friends.”

An impressive argument from a five year old, and a successful one to his surprise. Lan Qiren waved them off, which was permission enough, and his pinkie was immediately re-seized and tugged.

Jiang Cheng looked up at Lan Xichen as he stood back up and got a smile. “I will join you when I can,” Lan Xichen promised and shooed him off too. Jin Ling needed no further prompting, leaning back now in his effort to pull Jiang Cheng along. He had to lift the boy off his feet so he wouldn’t lose his balance when Jiang Cheng finally followed him.

Undeterred, Jin Ling dragged him back to the table with A-Yi and A-Yuan, supervised by a perfectly composed Lan Wangji. The boys had started eating, which had no doubt prompted Jin Ling to finally come rescue Jiang Cheng since all talking had been postponed, and Jin Ling immediately dug into his own bowl practically the moment he was certain Jiang Cheng was, in fact, sitting down.

A-Yi, on the other hand, was buzzing in his seat and obviously fighting with the rule about eating and talking. His mouth opened and Lan Wangji didn’t even look up from setting a carrot slice in A-Yuan’s bowl to remind him of it. A-Yi pouted, but returned to his rice with renewed enthusiasm, more than likely wanting to drill Jiang Cheng with questions. He snorted as he took his seat.

“Hanguang-jun,” Jiang Cheng greeted, frosty politeness coming easily in the face of that blank look, and accepted a bowl of rice he was handed, as well as the tea.

Lan Wangji’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes took on an odd, flintlike quality, sharp and almost… amused? “Sao-zi,” was his greeting in return, which explained that immediately. Not amusement then. Assholeness. Pure assholeness.

Jiang Cheng choked on his tea and felt a smile of all things fly to his lips. “Fuck,” he breathed, as quietly as he could so as not to scar the children’s sensibilities, and glared at him outright. Sister-in-law, because of course he’d never see Lan Xichen as the wife. So, that’s how he wanted to play this, like a petulant child? Fine then. “Don’t make me like you, xiao shu-zi.”

Younger brother of my husband. At least his term was perfectly correct. Lan Wangji’s eyes narrowed dangerously to hear it, but still that asshole energy remained in his gaze as he lifted his own bowl. “Mn. I will endeavor not to.”

Double fuck, he did not want to like this man. He allowed an echo of Wei Wuxian’s laughter to kill the good feeling as quickly as it came and began settling vegetables over his rice. “As you should.”

“No speech while eating,” Lan Wangji said again, this time to Jiang Cheng, and the man was damned lucky there was a table and three children between them. A chopstick shoved up his nose was undignified to the highest degree, but would be satisfying to the extreme, even if it caused a fight. Worth it.

A gentle hand settled on his shoulder and Jiang Cheng wondered what it said about him that he knew it was Lan Xichen even before he smelled his favored insense. “May I join you?”

Jiang Cheng shifted over in response, as did Jin Ling, who grinned at being squished closer to A-Yi, who grinned right back, full cheeked. Lan Xichen huffed a laugh to see it and tucked himself in neatly between them, smiling as he took a bowl and tea.

All was quiet during the meal and Jiang Cheng had to admit Wei Wuxian had been right. Now that he was no longer facing judgement, it felt like a funeral, and the silence was overbearing. It was so different from home, from his dinners with Jin Ling in his rooms, the crackle of the fire and humming odd songs together the perfect backdrop as they ate. It was a different sort of quiet, full of warmth and unspoken laughter. Here it was cold, like everything else here was cold, and Jiang Cheng maybe wanted to scream a little just to see what would happen.

He noticed a horde of waddling ducklings gathering at his back, which kept him from screaming, but only just made him want to laugh. Lan Wangji had the look of a resigned man, seeing their eager faces reflected on the two Lan boys at the table, and Jiang Cheng did his best not to grin in victory. Fighting with your husband-to-be’s brother was bad form, after all, even if it would be far too fun.

Jiang Cheng slowed his eating, wondering how long the children could wait in quiet for him to finish eating before they exploded with anticipation. To their credit, they made it all the way until he set his chopsticks down and moved the bowl away.

Then, chaos.

“Sect Leader Jiang!” came at him from a dozen voices, a dozen different places, and he immediately glared to silence them.

“Alright you lot, one at a time,” he commanded, all authority, and tipped his chin up to outright dare them to disobey. They did not, but did not seem cowed either. Their enthusiasm was greater than their fear of him, apparently. The wonders of being a child.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” a little boy started and Jiang Cheng lifted a hand to stop him.

“First off, stop with that nonsense,” he said, feeling Lan Xichen’s eyes on him as a warm prickle on the back of his neck. He did his best not to blush, but it was a losing battle. “I am marrying into your sect and your Zewu-jun into mine. That makes me your Senior, does it not?”

“Senior Jiang,” the boy didn’t miss a damned beat. “Could you teach me the snow cultivation?”

This sentiment was shared by no less than seven others, which baffled him. “Snow cultivation?”

“You made the snow move,” A-Yi gushed, shoving his bowl to the side to showcase he was done eating to Lan Wangji, who sighed a nearly imperceptible sigh. The words spilled out of him in an excited rush. “Made it lift you up. How did you do that?”

Jiang Cheng considered that, not sure how to explain a cultivation that was akin to playing music for the Lans, so commonplace as it was. These Lans truly didn’t have a practical bone in their bodies, did they?

“It’s part of the flood technique my clan has cultivated for centuries,” Jiang Cheng told the gaggle, shifting in his seat a little so to better look at them all. “Usually we use the water to move us, the way I moved the snow.”

Awed murmuring at that, which was ridiculous. Even Lan Xichen looked impressed, proving his theory about Lans and practicality. Fuck’s sake.

“Snow is water, so that makes sense,” A-Yuan murmured and moved his bowl over too. His eyes were big and sweet and eager as he looked up at Jiang Cheng. “Sect - Senior Jiang, could you teach me?”

“And me?” A-Yi piped in and was quickly followed by the rest of the ducklings. Jiang Cheng glared until they were silent.

“One at a time, as I said,” he huffed, imperious, and narrowed his gaze at them. “I suppose I could teach some new pupils, but they have to be willing to work hard and get their hands dirty. It’s not an easy technique to learn.”

“We understand, Senior Jiang!” said the first boy and this sentiment echoed through them all. Jiang Cheng snorted, unconvinced, but nodded anyway.

“And I suppose I’ll have to teach you lot to swim too. There’s no way you’re learning water cultivation and not being able to at least float. If the whole of GusuLan’s next generation perishes at Lotus Pier, I will die in all the paperwork that will dredge up.”

Excited chattering now despite his muttering. They were so easy. Jiang Cheng looked over at Lan Xichen, feeling a soft hand on his thigh, and was greeted with a gentle, tender smile, that awed one that he didn’t understand how he could earn, and so easily. It wasn’t like he was being particularly awe-inspiring offering swimming lessons to a bunch of kids. It wasn’t an even hard skill!

“What?” he asked, more combative than he’d meant to sound, but at least his voice was soft. Lan Xichen laughed his little nose-laugh and squeezed his fingers.

“Just wanted to thank you, is all,” Lan Xichen said before retrieving his hand and returning to his meal. No reminder of the rules when he broke them, it seemed. Unfair, that.

“I did promise to teach you,” Jiang Cheng murmured and looked at all the tiny, eager faces, so like his own gaggle of juniors back home. Just imagining all the children meeting at the docks to swim seemed huge, somehow, like that was the true marriage - the mixing of cultures, the making of new friendships, and the sharing of techniques. “What’s a herd of goslings more? We can even see how well they float.”

Another laugh, more real this time, and Lan Wangji was glancing between them with a furrow in his brow, as though he was waiting for Jiang Cheng to turn around and bite Lan Xichen in the face. Jiang Cheng glared right back at him, one eyebrow cocked in challenge, and Lan Wangji stared implacably back.

“Jiu-jiu, I can teach swimming too?” Jin Ling asked, his own bowl grandly set aside. “Jiu-mu said I could teach swimming.”

Jiang Cheng sighed, sensing a pattern there destined to grow. “Well, if your jiu-mu said it was fine…” he muttered, but his nephew took that as permission. Because of course he did.

Jin Ling beamed, but it was with a shy look he took in the other children. “I can teach swimming too!”

“Yes, A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng told him and reached around to collect the bowls into a pile so Lan Wangji could not. Not missing a beat, Lan Wangji glared and collected the teacups instead. Jiang Cheng maybe imagined stuffing both chopsticks up his nose at that. Lan Xichen looked close to laughing at them, huffing into his rice. With Jiang Cheng’s luck he’d choke and die and he’d have to fight his way out. What a useless betrothed!

“No laughing while eating,” he huffed at the man, which only made the little puffs worse, but at least he’d set his chopsticks down. Sensing he was on the verge of something wonderful, but not knowing what, Jiang Cheng leaned in a little, eyes focusing in on him, and that started a whole new peal of nose-laughs, sharper now. He fought down a grin to scowl in a way he knew Lan Xichen would snort at. “What did I just say?”

A hand on his thigh again, giving a tiny squeeze. He felt a smile forming on his mouth and decided to just let it happen, if only so Lan Wangji could have it burned into the back of his eyelids for the rest of eternity.

“Ridiculous. You’re going to choke,” he kept it up and now even the gaggle were giggling. Some even looked awed seeing their perfect Zewu-jun losing composure so rapidly. Jiang Cheng knew that feeling well. “Think of the paperwork if you die in such a stupid way. Have mercy.”

Giving up, Lan Xichen started to laugh, an almost boyish sound he’d never heard before, and gently pushed his bowl to the side. Jiang Cheng added it to his pile. “Jiang Wanyin,” he managed somehow between deep wheezes as he fought down his mirth, “you are not playing fair.”

“All is fair in marriage and war,” Jiang Cheng shot right back, nose in the air. That was not how that went, would never be how that went, but he’d stopped caring somewhere in that sweet laughter. “And you agreed to marry me. What were you thinking?”

Lan Xichen squeezed his thigh again, a bit firmer, as though in reprimand, but had covered his mouth with the sleeve of his other, desperately trying to pull in his glee and hide it. What Lan Xichen had thought when he’d agreed to this was a question Jiang Cheng worried he’d never know the answer to, but there were far worse outcomes than having no answers. He was used to such things, after all.

And hearing a laugh from the not-so-composed Lan Xichen was more important, he suddenly knew with utmost clarity. Even if he gained nothing else from their betrothal, even if it all ended today and he could never look Lan Xichen in the eye again, this was important. Because it was new and all for Jiang Cheng, and he’d do whatever it took to hear it.

So when it happened, a hiccup of sound, gasping and bright and alive, so warm and joyous and ridiculous, Jiang Cheng could only stare, heart fluttering painfully, and wonder how he could possibly have such a beautiful thing in his life. How he could be allowed to have it.

That hand on his thigh squeezed, Lan Xichen shaking with laughter right to his fingertips, and Jiang Cheng knew he was suddenly a thief of the worst caliber, wanting it for as long as he could have it, this beautiful sound he’d helped free, and he knew he’d never let it go.