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Chapter Text

The early morning sun peaks through the cool fog of the countryside hills, sparkling gently across the waters of Yunmeng Lake. It’s a pristine picture that Wei Wuxian takes delight in shattering as he crashes inelegantly through the surface, stomping in the shallows of the muddy lake on his way back to the shores.

Wei Wuxian’s worn work breeches are soaked through up to his knees and muddied at the hem, even rolled halfway up his calf as they are, but the frog caught between his hands is reward enough–and that’s assuming he didn’t want to dirty himself just as much as he wanted to catch the frog.

Jiang Cheng bet him he couldn’t yesterday, is the thing, and Wei Wuxian has never not attempted to prove his cousin wrong. Aunt Yu will scold him, no doubt–he might even get switched for it–but he has big plans for this frog, and the outcome will surely be worth its parts.

With a running skip back to the Lotus Estate, past the chickens and past the pigs–which reminds Wei Wuxian of a number of daily chores he has yet to do–Wei Wuxian goes barreling into the manor with the grace of a newborn fawn. He’s traipsing mud across the carpets, which he will absolutely be stuck cleaning later, and Jinzhu, one of the family’s loyal–and sufficiently terrifying–serving girls, shouts up the stairs after him.

Wei Wuxian is already upstairs and around the corner, and elects to pretend he hasn’t heard her berating him from below. The frog protests all of this loudly and with great effort to escape, but Wei Wuxian adjusts his grip and shushes the frog as if it was a person, stalling just outside his target’s room. Absent-mindedly, he thinks to name the frog Hopper, and thanks it for its service.

A dazzling grin cracks across Wei Wuxian’s face as suddenly he throws open the door and wastes no time in tossing the mud-covered frog right onto Jiang Cheng’s sleeping face.

In an instant, his cousin is awake and sputtering around mud, his head whipping back and forth as he tries to figure out what’s going on. Jiang Cheng spots Wei Wuxian first, and must see the mischievousness in his grin, because he’s scrunching his face in frustration before he even notices the frog.

He does notice it, the frog, after another moment, and then Jiang Cheng is out of bed as quick as if Wei Wuxian had lit the sheets on fire, giving chase to a thoroughly amused, maniacally laughing Wei Ying.

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng bellows, loud enough to wake anyone in the house that had managed to sleep through Wei Wuxian’s clattering around. “I’m gonna kill you! I mean it, you little rat!”

Wei Wuxian makes it down the stairs and into the hall before skidding to a halt, turning only to goad Jiang Cheng further as he sticks out his tongue childishly and says, “You’ll have to catch me first!” He takes back off at a run once Jiang Cheng gains on him, out the back of the house and into the gardens.

The joy makes Wei Wuxian breathless, his short ponytail swinging behind him, wisps of hair flying wildly around his face. He sucks in great gulps of fresh morning air, crisp with the dew of fall. His waistcoat hangs unbuttoned around his torso, suspenders looping loose from his hips, and the deep V of his linen undershirt catches the wind, billowing and snapping back against his chest.

Wei Wuxian turns to gloat again, Jiang Cheng still thundering along in his nightclothes, but trips over a stray rock, falling backwards into the grass and packed dirt.

For a moment, all Wei Wuxian sees is the yellowing-green blur of swaying tree branches, and then Jiang Cheng is on him, looking rather ridiculously furious for a boy in his nightgown with sleep sticking his hair every which way. They tussle in the grass, punching and pinching with real force, but no genuine malice.

This is how Yinzhu finds the pair of them an instance later, snatching them by the ears and lugging them back into the house. Jiang Cheng dissents immediately, renouncing any and all blame for the chaos, but he quiets when they find Aunt Yu waiting sternly in the kitchen.

“Wei Wuxian, you wretched boy!” Aunt Yu unsurprisingly admonishes, “Do you ever think?”

She knocks a hand upside Wei Wuxian’s head, and then goes for a wooden spoon, yanking Wei Wuxian over to the kitchen table by the wrist and forcing his hand flat onto the table; Wei Wuxian has been here enough times to bring the other hand up on his own. She snaps the spoon over the back of his hands.

“Jinzhu has spent the past five minutes trying to catch a frog-” she hits him again, “which only a true fool would ever bring into a mannered house!”

Another whip of the wood against the back of his hands, and then she turns them palm up and whacks him again.

“Not to mention the mud! And look at yourself–do you enjoy looking like a slob?”

Wei Wuxian can’t help but crack a grin. He does, in fact, thoroughly enjoy getting muddy in the lakes, dirtying up his clothes on purpose while doing chores. It’s only because Aunt Yu hates it so much that Wei Wuxian intentionally wears his clothes so improperly.

“I thought you’d grow out of this someday,” Aunt Yu continues, incised by his smile, “but here you are-” smack, “nineteen years old-” smack, “still acting like a child!” Smack, smack, smack.

The punishment is starting to smart now, and involuntary tears of pain well in Wei Wuxian’s eyes, but he holds strong with a contrastingly pleasant expression. These words are nothing he hasn’t heard before, and in fact, he’s heard them so many times that they’ve lost all meaning. How many times has Aunt Yu threatened–

“-to throw you back on the streets, where you belong-”

–or reminded him that–

“-we only took you in because we thought you might manage to marry a girl of some decent income–”

–making sure that he knows–

“-your looks are worthless when saddled with your horrid nature!”

By the end of it, his hands–backs and palms–are red and swelling with welts. Aunt Yu stalks off with a frustrated huff and a stern delegation of extra cleaning duties, but Jiang Cheng is still glowering in his nightclothes, so Wei Wuxian will count that as a win.

Any hope of skirting his chores is lost when Jinzhu comes to personally escort him out to the animal pens like some kind of prison warden. It hurts his hands to tend to the chickens, skin burning as he shakes out feed and collects the eggs, but at least Jiang Cheng–once he’s changed into day clothes–is still on pig duty for the week as punishment for a previous poor performance while meeting the family of a prospective wife, so Wei Wuxian doesn’t have to contend with the heavy buckets of slop.

Wei Wuxian displays the full basket of eggs to Jinzhu so that she’ll let him back into the house.

“Sorry about the frog,” Wei Wuxian offers with a shrug and a grin.

Jinzhu narrows a look at him, “No, you aren’t.”

Wei Wuxian gives her his most charming smile, but Jinzhu stays firm-faced, and eventually Wei Wuxian must concede.

Cleaning up the mud is a bit more tedious, and becomes one of the many things in Wei Wuxian’s life that forces him to concede that maybe, just maybe, he should think about things before he does them. Aunt Yu’s beatings and harsh words, the daily tedium of chores–he’s used to all that, and it comes no matter what Wei Wuxian himself does.

This mud, however, begrudgingly, would not be so difficult to scrub out of the rugs if he hadn’t drug it in in the first place.

Wei Wuxian privately acknowledges this lesson, and then vows to learn nothing from it. It was fun enough to run around muddy–why shouldn’t he have that fun?

-

“A-Xian!” a soft voice calls a few hours later. It perks Wei Wuxian up from the last bit of carpet still left to be cleaned. His back aches from crouching for so long, but he’s done a thorough job, and it hardly looks like there was ever mud at all.

“Yanli!” Wei Wuxian responds happily, “You look amazing!”

They had planned a family trip to town for the afternoon, and Jiang Yanli has dressed for the occasion.

While his aunt and uncle have never let Wei Wuxian’s clothes fray or wear themselves to pieces, his closet is still limited to practical options–work breeches, second-hand or homemade vests, and one dress suit for nice occasions–but Yanli is their biggest chance at marrying the family line into wealth, so she is always dressed the part. As such, she’s wearing a lovely new lavender dress today, complete with matching bonnet and ribbon, and she looks beautiful in it.

“Ah,” Jiang Yanli brushes off, “Really, I–”

“Stop it, Yanli,” Wei Wuxian insists, brushing himself off and standing up. The dress looks to be silk, shimmering and soft; Wei Wuxian wants to reach out and feel, but he’d never risk getting it muddy.

“I love this dress, Yanli,” he says instead. “When did you get it?”

“Just the other day, but-” Jiang Yanli tuts, “A-Xian, what have you done to yourself? How did you manage to get so dirty?” She frets around him, delicately brushing dried dirt from his shoulders.

“Ah! I caught a frog! And then I threw it at Jiang Cheng to wake him up, and it was hilarious! But I did track mud all over the house, so…”

Jiang Yanli shakes her head, but Wei Wuxian knows her, and the smile she’s wearing is fond.

“You make so many messes, A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli chides. “You’d better hurry and go wash up for town, then!”

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian deflates for a moment, but plasters a contended look back on in no time. “Part of my punishment for the whole frog thing is ‘no town,’ so it’ll just be you, Jiang Cheng, and Aunt Yu, today.”

Jiang Yanli frowns, “Oh, but A-Xian…you didn’t get to go last week either! I know you’ve so been looking forward to this.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. He wipes his hands as clean as he can on a nearby towel–his still tender welts from the spoon complaining as he does–and then he uses his thumb to gently soothe the wrinkle between Jiang Yanli’s eyebrows.

“It’s alright, Yanli, I promise.” He smiles again, a bit more genuine, and continues, “As long as you promise to sneak me back some sweets!”

Jiang Yanli isn’t entirely fooled. “Do you want me to talk to mother? I bet if I asked–”

“No, no!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, “No, it's probably better just to leave it be. I’ll be fine here for the day, I can find something to do! I’ll draw, or work on my sword fighting. Really, don’t worry about me, Yanli.”

It is more difficult than Wei Wuxian expects to watch his cousins leave a little while later, and he suddenly finds the two full weeks he’s spent stuck on the estate to be stifling and claustrophobic. This time was his fault, he’ll concede, but last week’s punishment had been the fault of no more than Aunt Yu’s bad mood, and as Wei Wuxian is forced to stay home again, a sliver of bitterness momentarily takes hold.

But, if he has to stay home anyway, he’d rather not spend all this time stewing in unhappiness, so Wei Wuxian easily shakes off the negative feelings, and moves on.

He makes good on his word to Jiang Yanli, and once he finishes cleaning the mud off the floor, he spends a short while drawing. He helps Yinzhu make lunch for Uncle Jiang, makes something small for himself to eat, tends to the garden, and then heads out to a clearing nearby to work on his sword fighting for the afternoon–his hands have nearly healed by now, enough that he can ignore the slight sting of their grip around the leather wrap of the hilt.

Sword fighting was something Uncle Jiang had insisted Wei Wuxian learn when they first took him in, going as far as to hire a soldier-on-leave to come to the estate and teach him. As a ward, Wei Wuxian does more farm work around the estate than anything, but just as the second son of any noble or wealthy family often goes into the military, Uncle Jiang wanted Wei Wuxian to be able to protect himself. Or, more likely, to protect his cousins, should the need arise.

Jiang Cheng will marry, inherit, and produce an heir; Jiang Yanli will marry out and up, probably; Wei Wuxian will be wherever they need him, whether that be tending to the estate until his dying breath, or representing the family on whatever warfront crops up next.

He’s in the unique situation of not being a blood relative, and the Jiangs thus feel no social pressure to contribute a son to the military, but they also don’t have much else to make use of him.

Wei Ying pulls out his sword and warms up as he reflects:

He used to be more careful about getting in trouble, because Aunt Yu often threatened him with sending him off to military service. Wholeheartedly, Wei Wuxian expected to wake up the day of his 18th birthday to find his bags packed and a carriage waiting outside to drag him to the nearest fort.

But he hadn’t.

Wei Wuxian walks through his sword forms with the ease of years of practice, and then uses his imagination to fill in the gap of a sparring partner–someone well-matched, nearly impossible to defeat, keeping him aware and providing a decent challenge.

Once he reached a sufficient proficiency–at about fifteen years old, or so–Uncle Jiang had redirected his sword tutoring funds into something else, so Wei Wuxian hasn’t truly fought with a sword in years. He doubts his meager skills would hold up if they ever did decide to throw him off to war. Most of the fighting is done with guns now, anyway.

Seemingly, Wei Wuxian knows, as his sturdy arms pass through sword form after sword form, his aunt and uncle have chosen a different path for him. They expect him to marry, somehow–waiting on a miracle girl who has her own source of income and would deign to marry a man who’s as ‘lowborn’ as they come.

It’s a decision he still doesn’t understand, nor does he trust the stability of it. The uncertainty is almost worse than just committing to war. In reality, any day could be his last at Lotus Manor. The more frogs he catches and the more messes he makes only take him closer and closer to certainty–Wei Wuxian himself isn’t sure what he wants that certainty to be.

He practices until he’s sweating, the sun peaking overhead. He only makes himself stop once he becomes distracted enough to stumble over his own feet, his arms burning so thoroughly that they crumple when he tries to catch himself. Lying in the grass, tired and catching his breath, Wei Wuxian finds no reason to move, and stays there until he falls asleep.

-

“Wuxian!” comes Jiang Cheng’s rough yell from down the hall, the family back from their day in town, Wei Wuxian lounging in the drawing room.

Oops, Wei Wuxian thinks, looking down at his still dirty clothes. He intended to bathe as soon as he was done cleaning the floors, but then he got distracted by Jiang Yanli’s new dress and the trip to town, and by the time he remembered again it was already after lunch and he was on his way to tend the gardens and practice with his sword, so what was the point of washing then, if he was just going to get all dirty again, and then he took an accidental nap, and so now, here he sits, on Aunt Yu’s nice, upholstered sewing chair, still dressed in the same mud-caked clothes he’s been wearing all day.

Yeah…oops.

Footsteps sound down the hall, moving towards the drawing room, and it spurs Wei Wuxian to action. He hops up, scrambling to wipe away any clumps of dirt from the chair into a cupped hand and toss it all out the open window. He manages to swipe his sketchbook and a pencil off the tea table and plop himself down on the hardwood, feigning boredom and looking as though he’s been doing this all along, just as Jiang Yanli darts into the room laden down with new bags.

She is also, he notes, practically vibrating with excitement.

“What?” Wei Wuxian says immediately, smiling with her infectious joy. “What is it? What happened?”

Jiang Yanli practically squeals as she runs over, dropping her shopping haphazardly on the floor, yet still somehow managing to seem all the elegant, refined young woman she is.

“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli says, breathless, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him up to stand, his drawing supplies clattering to the floor. “There’s to be a ball! A ball at the Qin family manor in town, and–of course, they’ve invited you, as well, Qin Su personally asked us to extend the offer–and, so, we’ll all get to go! And they’ve said Lord Jin Zixuan, soon to be Duke of the Jin Estate, is to attend!”

Wei Wuxian laughs and takes Jiang Yanli’s hands from his shoulders to hold them in his own, amused to no end to see his cousin chattering so uncharacteristically.

“Not just that,” Jiang Yanli continues, Aunt Yu and Jiang Cheng finally catching up and walking in behind her, “but he is to stay at Koi Tower for the month with his cousin! There’s rumor that one of the Lans will be there as well!”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen, “Koi Tower? The massive-” he almost says ugly, but holds his tongue for Yanli’s sake- “manor across Yunmeng Lake?”

“Yes, that one-” Jiang Yanli begins, but she’s interrupted by the harsh cut of Aunt Yu’s voice.

“Yanli! Have you lost all sense of decorum!? Pick up those bags at once!”

Jiang Yanli grins sheepishly, and then gives a slight bow of her head in deference, “Yes, Mother.”

“Wuxian!” Aunt Yu finds her next target easily, “Filthy boy–if you have time for this fruitless pursuit of drawing, then you have time to take a bath, for Heaven’s sake! Clean up immediately.”

Wei Wuxian gives Jiang Yanli one last jaunty grin, and then playfully bumps Jiang Cheng with his shoulder as he walks by.

Aunt Yu shouts after him, “When you’ve finished, try on your dress set–we’ll need as much time as possible if it needs to be mended! Qin Su has invited you, and I’ll not have you waste the opportunity with sloppy clothes!”

Wei Wuxian practically skips up the stairs after that, ecstatic that it seems he’ll be allowed to attend the ball with no interference. Wei Wuxian–as much as he despises any formal matchmaking–is a hopeless flirt, and he loves the energy of dancing at a ball. He doesn’t even care that Aunt Yu is clearly only letting him go with the hope of his wooing Qin Su, despite that being the truly ‘fruitless pursuit’.

Once he’s up the stairs and out of sight of his extended family, Wei Wuxian gives a little hop-jig of delight, and his smile is just as bright as Yanli’s.

-

The end of the week arrives quickly, and Lotus Manor is a flurry of excitement from the moment they awake. Jinzhu wakes Wei Wuixan early so he can get his chores out of the way and still have plenty of time to get ready.

Astoundingly, after Wei Wuxian failed to squeeze into his old dress suit the day of the news, Aunt Yu had seen fit to have a new vest tailored for him. Granted, the one he had had been bought four or five years ago, when Wei Wuxian was a much smaller, still-growing teenager, but it is still an uncharacteristic display of interest from his usually abrasive aunt. She must see sincere potential in Qin Su, for Wei Wuxian has attended many balls in town, and never has his Aunt made mere whisper of buying him new clothes.

The new vest is not entirely new, made from the bones of one of Uncle Jiang’s old suits, but it fits him much better. The velvet fabric is a deep maroon, almost plum purple color, and it tightens just so around his waistline, leaving a satisfying V to the shape of Wei Wuxian’s torso, as his shoulders have filled out over the years.

Aunt Yu even instructs him to borrow an undershirt and overcoat from Jiang Cheng, so the collared blouse he wears beneath the vest is starched white with an understated neckline, and the added layer of a simple black spencer jacket has Wei Wuxian looking more put-together than he has in a long time, maybe ever.

With a moment alone in his room, he amuses himself by slipping his sword through an imaginary belt and admiring his silhouette in the mirror, fancying himself some wealthy lord or leader. He isn’t of the military, so he could never risk the faux-pas of carrying the sword into town, but he likes the image it gives his reflection.

Even once Wei Wuxian stops indulging daydreams and puts the sword aside, he still looks rather powerful in the mirror. Maybe it’s truly just the wardrobe, or maybe it’s the stronger, prouder set of his shoulders, the tipping up of his chin as he looks at himself and thinks, for the first time in a while, I’m handsome.

Jiang Yanli comes in to do his hair once she’s primped and powdered, looking stunning in a purple dress so lightly colored it's almost white, and Wei Wuxian makes sure to gush appropriately about how pretty she is. Jiang Yanli demures with a blush, and then gets to work on Wei Wuxian’s tangled hair.

The gentlemanly style of the season is as it has been for a while–if Wei Wuxian cared about being a gentleman, he would have Yanli pull his hair into a small, formal ponytail at the base of his skull and tie it off with a short ribbon. Truthfully, he’s always thought the style looked ridiculous, and on top of how proper and upright his clothes are, Wei Wuxian is itching to muss it up, at least a little bit.

A high ponytail is a good compromise. Jiang Yanli does it justice, smoothing the hair back neatly and tying it off with a perfect bow, the ribbon a soft velvet red from her own collection. The shorter hairs around Wei Wuxian’s face slip from the updo and settle around his face, giving his look just the right hint of disheveled. No doubt it will fall even more as he dances through the night.

When he and Jiang Yanli descend to the foyer, with hardly enough time before the ball for the ride to town, Aunt Yu surprises him yet again with an approving look across his outfit, and then, baffling Wei Wuxian even further, adjusts his hair, pulling more stray strands from his ponytail and tucking some behind his ears.

“Satisfactory,” she appraises, and Jiang Yanli shoots him a gleeful look.

Jiang Cheng is already waiting by the carriage outside, giving first Yanli and then his mother a hand up, then stepping in after them. He’s dressed in an entirely new suit for the occasion, a tailored tailcoat atop a new vest of the same color as Yanli’s dress. He finishes the look with his father’s shining pocket watch and T-bar chain adorned with a small silver bell, an heirloom that he had proudly received a few months ago for his 18th birthday.

“Wow,” Wei Wuxian teases, bowing obnoxiously before joining the family in the carriage, “Master Jiang, you might even convince a few poor girls that you’re actually a gentleman, tonight!”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng snaps, but his voice holds little heat–it’s clear he’s just as anxious for the ball as Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian. “Don’t pretend you’re any better!”

“Oh, I’m not,” Wei Wuxian grins, “I’m much worse!”

“Wei Wuxian,” Aunt Yu cuts in, tone sharp, “the both of you will be the perfect gentlemen tonight, even if you do have to pretend. Qin Su is a lovely girl with a large predicted dowry, and she–for some inconceivable reason–has invited you personally, Wuxian, and you will not mess this up.”

Wei Wuxian sombers up, “Yes, Aunt Yu.”

(Jiang Cheng catches his eye a minute later, and they both devolve into snickers until Aunt Yu scolds them to silence once more.)

-

The Qin family manor is of a moderate size, just outside of town in the opposite direction to Lotus Manor. It’s a decent place, not too garishly designed, but well-kept and clearly belonging to someone of reasonable wealth.

Wei Wuxian has never been inside before, but he snuck into the gardens once on his way to the Nie Estate for a visit with Nie Huaisang–the Qin family boast a considerable array of fresh fruits, vegetables, and herbs, and have dedicated a large expanse of their acreage to agriculture. The garden at Lotus Manor is nice, but practically miniscule in comparison.

For a moment, Wei Wuxian lets himself imagine what it would be like to marry Qin Su.

Given that he has hardly any inheritance to speak of and would be marrying up–rare for a man–there would likely be deviation from tradition. They would stay on the Qin Estate, rather than Qin Su joining him at Lotus Manor. Maybe they would be allotted a parcel of land, and build a little cottage. Living off of Qin Su’s allowance alone, they might need other forms of income–Wei Wuxian could work his days in the family’s fields, perhaps adding on his own little garden by their house.

He’d come home at the end of the day to a gaggle of children–five, at least, if not more–who would run out to greet him, clambering around, all dressed in new suits and smocks, tailored just for them.

Wei Wuxian falters when he tries to imagine beyond that. There’s the warm, homely interior of the house, a servant or two cooking away, but when he attempts to slot Qin Su into the picture–a wife at all, for that matter–he struggles.

He’s still trying to work it out when Nie Huaisang–speaking of–comes bounding out the front door. He’s wearing an all-gray suit with hints of forest green, at odds with the youthful inelegance on his face and flouncy way he holds himself. Huaisang restrains himself until Aunt Yu and Yanli have exited the carriage and been led into the house by a servant, but pounces as soon as they’re out of the way.

“Wuxian! A-Cheng! My dearest friends!” He wraps Wei Wuxian in an overly familiar hug, but Wei Wuxian delights in it, hugging him back tightly.

Huaisang pulls away and attempts to do the same to Jiang Cheng, but is held back with a stiff arm. Huaisang struggles against the grip for a moment, but gives in quickly, instead directing an exaggerated, mocking bow towards Jiang Cheng.

“I see,” he says, “the illustrious Master Jiang Wanyin is too mature for such emotional displays nowadays. Nevermind that he hasn’t seen his close friend in months! I understand!”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, grumbles, sets his shoulders, and then abruptly pulls Huaisang into a quick, awkward hug. Wei Wuxian snorts at them, the whole scene ten times more embarrassing for his cousin than if Jiang Cheng had simply let Huaisang hug him to begin with. Jiang Cheng flushes, but Huaisang wears a dazzlingly smug grin as he pulls away.

“Well, there we are! Nie, Jiang, and Wei, reunited at last!” Huaisang declares, and then begins to lead them into the house, “Come along, boys–Madam Qin really knows how to throw a party! Go and greet your hosts, and then find me by the alcohol.”

“Might be a while,” Wei Wuxian informs Huaisang with melodramatic defeat, “your friend might yet be betrothed before the night is out.”

The warmth and boisterous music of the house engulf them as they move further in, more and more people filling the space, until they reach the main ballroom, wide, bright, and teeming with lace, frills, and polite conversation.

Nie Huaisang gasps, turning a few heads their way. “It can’t be!” he says, “Wuxian, you fox! Who is it?”

Wei Wuxian takes care to lower his voice, not wanting to be overheard–a personal invitation is not the same as a proposal, no matter what Aunt Yu might convince herself, and he doesn’t want to risk embarrassing Qin Su.

“Why, it’s the young lady of the house,” he whispers to Huaisang, playing pompous, “she requested my presence personally!”

Huaisang looks at him wide eyed.

Wei Wuxian drops the act, and in a normal voice, explains, “She did invite me, but Aunt Yu seems to want us wed tomorrow. I doubt it was little more than a courtesy.”

“It could be more!” Huaisang attempts to comfort, and then seems to realize that Wei Wuxian isn’t all that disappointed by the idea.

“Oh, I see,” he says, “that’s better, anyhow. You and I shall just remain celibate forever!”

Jiang Cheng scoffs, “Are you really trying to convince us you’re still ‘celibate’?”

Huaisang tuts, wacking Jiang Cheng’s arm lightly with the back of his hand. “Keep your voice down! I’ll have you know I am perfectly pure!”

They go on chattering nonsense until Jiang Cheng spots the Qin family on the far side of the room, just finishing up greetings with a pair of sisters that Wei Wuxian recognizes from town. Aunt Yu and Yanli, much more refined in high society ways, are already waiting nearby. Aunt Yu gestures Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng over impatiently.

“Trust the both of you to run off with Nie Huaisang,” Aunt Yu chides, tugging and pulling at every inch of Wei Wuxian to soothe away invisible wrinkles, “that boy is a terrible influence. Stand up straight, and get rid of that smirk, Wei Wuxian! I think I have already impressed upon you the seriousness of this occasion?”

She had indeed, lecturing Wei Wuxian for hours on end over the past week, reminding him of etiquette, quizzing him on the Qin family, and beating any wrong answers over his back with a bramble branch. He wouldn’t soon forget the names of every Qin family member six generations back, or the career paths of every son, or who every daughter became when she married, because all of that was so likely to come up in polite conversation.

He sincerely tries his best though, when Aunt Yu leads them up to the Qin family.

“Ah, Madam Jiang,” Madam Qin begins warmly, then nods to Yanli and Jiang Cheng, “and Madam Jiang and Master Jiang, as well. And you must be Master Wei Wuxian? I’ve not had the pleasure, we missed you in town the other day!”

It’s impressive, though expected, that Madam Qin would recognize their party on sight and greet all of them by name. There must be over a hundred people at this party, and most of them are strangers but for their names, yet Madam Qin probably welcomes each like a friend. Beside her, Qin Su smiles–shy, not as extroverted as her mother, but still kind–and Master Qin stands behind them both, a similarly friendly smile on his face.

Wei Wuxian defers to Aunt Yu, allowing her and the Jiang siblings to greet first, before stepping up to acknowledge Madam Qin’s greeting.

“The pleasure is mine, Madam, and Master Qin, as well,” he says, bowing, “I thank you earnestly for the invitation, and for welcoming us into your home.”

Wei Wuxian does his best to balance charisma and respect as he addresses Qin Su, bowing as deeply as he had to her parents, but with an added, hopefully endearing, grin. “To the young Madam Qin, another thank you. Again, the pleasure is mine to be acquainted; you are as refined and handsome as I have heard.”

Qin Su smiles delicately, and curtsies back. “It is good to meet you as well, Master Wei–you, too, live up to the stories.” Her smile grows to a smirk, and Wei Wuxian cautions a quick wink, wondering just what stories have made their way to the Qin family manor.

“If I may be so forward,” he says, and Aunt Yu’s head snaps towards him, “I would be honored to have a dance with the young Madam over the course of the night, if she is amenable?”

Qin Su’s smile grows, and she answers brightly, if not eagerly, “Of course, it is my honor to accept.”

“Well then,” Aunt Yu wraps up, “there are no doubt many others who want to thank our gracious hosts, so we might take our leave.”

The Qin family bid them farewell for now with shallow bows and curtsies, and Aunt Yu then waves Wuxian, Yanli, and Jiang Cheng off, granting their freedom into the thriving ballroom. When Wei Wuxian chances a glance back, her expression is surprisingly pleased.

Wei Wuxian seeks out Nie Huaisang for a while, before sparking up a conversation with a nearby group of lively girls. There must be eight or nine of them, half of them so similar in looks that they must be sisters, and they all huddle together and banter about. Wei Wuxian introduces himself confidently, and at once they engulf him into the circle; while the sheer number of ruffles is overwhelming at first, Wei Wuxian falls easily into a pleasant, if shallow conversation.

After a while, Jiang Cheng nudges him and mutters, “Stop chattering like a girl and ask one of them to dance.”

Wei Wuxian huffs, mood dampening at his cousin's somewhat offensive tone. Why does he have to say it like it’s such a grand insult, to ‘chatter like a girl’? Wei Wuxian simply enjoys meeting people. (It’s certainly more entertaining than standing with Jiang Cheng and brooding in ‘gentlemanly’ silence.)

Lucky for Jiang Cheng, however, Wei Wuxian happens to like dancing just as much as he enjoys chattering. He asks the eldest of the group for a dance, and immediately the rest of them are clambering for a turn. Wei Wuxian laughs brightly, extending a hand to the eldest to lead her to the dance floor while throwing out promises to all the others that, of course, he has time to dance with all of them.

The eldest girl’s name is Luo Qingyang, though she cheekily tells him to call her Mianmian, and in turn he offers ‘Wuxian’ in place of Master Wei. She isn’t one of the sisters, although she confirms that those of the group with similar facades are indeed related. Their dance becomes all the more comfortable when Mianmian reveals she’s already as-good-as engaged, and Wei Wuxian assures her that he has no intentions beyond a fun, albeit slightly flirty, dance.

The song has just finished, Wei Wuxian bowing to Mianmian’s curtsy, both of their cheeks rosy and smiles wide, when a hush settles over the wider ballroom, followed by a wave of murmurs and whispers.

Wei Wuxian shamelessly cranes his neck along with the rest of the crowd, trying to see what–or who–has caused such an event.

The crowd of dancers splits down the middle, making way.

Of course–how could he have forgotten?

It’s Lord Jin Zixuan, heir-apparent to the title of Duke from his father, his cousin Jin Zixun, and his entourage of fellows, all dressed in vulgarly yellow uniforms. Standing out from the entering crowd is a tall, broad, offensively handsome man in blue, standing upright and looking down his nose at everyone in the room.

He must be Captain Lan Wangji.

-

Chapter Text

“Well,” Wei Wuxian says to Miammian conspiratorially, “someone knows how to make an entrance!”

The entourage of I-am-clearly-richer-than-you’s, headed by Jin Zixuan and he who can be no one else but Lan Wangji, make their way into the ballroom. They are unimpeded as they greet the Qin family, other guests giving them such a wide berth you’d think them royalty.

Lan Wangji bows as gracefully and elegantly as possible, but Wei Wuxian’s attention is much sooner drawn to the unnecessary pomp and flourish that Jin Zixuan executes for the sake of a simple hello.

Wei Wuxian scoffs. Mianmian shushes him, but by her apprehensive expression, she, too, is put-off by the gross display of wealth and self-importance.

Once the formalities are out of the way, the other guests swarm the group like gnats. Lines of mothers and daughters form as the Jin and Lan men instantaneously become the most desired people in the room.

Mianmian sighs and nods, eyeing the yellow uniforms that have begun to spread-out like tendrils of a virus through the space. “That’s the Jin for you.”

Having finished their dance and sated their inquisitive–nosy–desires, Mianmian leads Wei Wuxian back over to the gaggle of sisters and friends, and he abruptly remembers that he had indeed promised to dance with every single one of them.

The girls are gossiping about the Jin, it seems, though that is not unlike every other chatting group in the room, probably.

One of the sisters–they’d been introduced, but Wei Wuxian is utterly hopeless with names–appears to be weighing out her chances.

“–could never snatch someone so high ranked as the Lord himself, but his cousin isn’t heir to a title…that’s much more attainable, don’t you think?” she muses.

“Oh, but–” another sister says, “I’ve heard Jin Zixun is a horribly arrogant man!”

Wei Wuxian steps into the circle while Mianmian reclaims her seat on the couch they’re gathered around, but the girls don’t pay them any mind. Wei Wuxian observes, amused, as the conversation bounces between them all.

“Zixun can be whatever kind of horrible he wants,” says one of the friends, “with that kind of money.”

Mianmian hums with a disapproving twist to her lips, “With ‘that kind of money’, even the worst sort of men can find wives.”

“Captain Lan has money, too,” Wei Wuxian jumps in, wanting to be a part of the fun, and a sudden wave of agreeing nods is sent his way. Captain Lan may be his own brand of stuck up, but the rumors would never call him cruel or violent in the way they might refer to a Jin.

“Oh, that’s for sure!” the curly-haired sister, sitting next to Mianmian on the couch, says, “I certainly would rather have him than a Jin.”

The youngest sister counters, “Not me–the Lan are worse than the Jin; I’d have someone pompous before I’d have someone so utterly boring.”

The youngest sister is only 14 or 15–an indication that her family must be in dire need of good marriages–but already she seems so serious about who she will marry. Wei Wuxian is lucky, in his case, to be a man and have the luxury of a few years more–were he a woman, no doubt Aunt Yu would have bid him off long ago.

“Not all the Lan are like that,” the curly haired sister defends, “Lan Wangji is the second son, off in the military with such a respectable rank!

“Exactly!” corroborates the girl on her other side–not one of the sisters, but her family name might be Yang? “No way could a man so brave as that be boring!”

“Brave?” Wei Wuxian can’t help but ask with a laugh.

The curly haired sister nods emphatically, “Of course, Master Wei! Don’t think it’s admirable, to be off risking his life on the warfront?”

“I think it’s awfully romantic!” Young Madam Yang tags on.

“He’d never be home, with a job like that,” Wei Wuxian points out, “gone for months at a time.”

“Well, in that case,” the youngest sister crosses her arms, “he might just be the perfect man!”

One of the friends–Qiao Huian, Wei Wuxian remembers, having taken note of her name earlier because of her outrageously bushy dress–tuts at the youngest sister.

“Now, now, A-Yun,” Qiao Huian says, “don’t say such things in front of Master Wei! Obviously, he is the perfect man!”

She reaches out with no further warning and grabs Wei Wuxian by the arm, dragging him down onto the couch and squishing him between herself and Young Madam Yang.

With the curly haired sister on the other side of Madam Yang and Mianmian beyond that, they are certainly testing the limits of the couch’s capacity. Wei Wuxian looks over and makes eye-contact with Mianmian, who looks quite disgruntled at the wooden furniture arm now jabbing into her stomach; Mianmian rolls her eyes at him, and Wei Wuxian snorts at the image she makes.

It’s terribly improper for him to sit amongst these unmarried girls like this, and were the wrong person to see–Aunt Yu in particular–it could cause quite the trouble for them all. He really should get up and put some space between them.

Wei Wuxian grins, bright and mischievous, and settles in amongst the silk and ruffle.

“Of course!” he concurs with false arrogance, “I, alone, am the perfect man!”

Mianmian sighs, “Don’t give him any bigger a head, it must already weigh as much as a horse.”

Wei Wuxian gasps, clutching a hand to his sternum and earning a giggle from a few of the sisters, “Why, Mianmian! Don’t you know better than to ask a lady about her weight?”

Mianmian just rolls her eyes again, but the other girls seem charmed, so Wei Wuxian smiles easily.

“Go on, girls,” he says, “tell me how it is that I am perfect?”

They chorus audacious compliments at him, pawing indecently at his arms, and Wei Wuxian shamelessly flirts back, thoroughly enjoying himself.

He thinks to check on Jiang Cheng, if only to ensure his cousin doesn’t return to chide him for ‘chattering’ again, but instead, when he throws a quick glance around the room, Wei Wuxian makes unexpected eye contact with the Lan officer–Captain Lan Wangji.

It startles him. Wei Wuxian is astounded, firstly, at the color of Lan Wangji’s eyes. They are an amber-brown that’s bright enough to be noticeable even from across the room. He is truly handsome, Wei Wuxian concedes, even with the firm, slightly haughty set of his face.

Lan Wangji seems to take in Wei Wuxian’s surroundings–the way he’s lounging amongst so many unmarried girls–and the haughtiness turns to an obviously disapproving scowl. Wei Wuxian grins, and goes as far as to wink at the Captain; Lan Wangji turns his back without delay.

Wei Wuxian laughs, and then stands, returning his attention to the girls he has befriended.

“Well,” he says, holding out a hand, “I believe I promised all of you a dance!”

-

By the time Wei Wuxian has made good on his promise, he has participated in nine consecutive dances, and even his youthful spirit is worn out. He bids the girls a light goodbye-for-now, and begs off to go find the alcohol.

As he vowed earlier, Nie Huaisang is lurking by the serving table of wine glasses. He sighs with exaggerated relief when Wei Wuxian makes his way over.

“Finally, you scoundrel!” Nie Huaisang says, though his tone implies the name-calling is more compliment than insult, “I thought you’d never stop dancing!”

Wei Wuxian laughs, and snags a glass of wine, draining it more out of thirst than a desire for alcohol.

“What can I say, Huaisang?” He puts on his best impression of a rake, “the ladies flock to me!”

Huaisang nods with gravitas, “Indeed, Wuxian. How is it that you charm them so?”

“A natural charisma?” Wei Wuxian banters, not being serious in the slightest.

A group of younger boys skitter over to the alcohol, and Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang shuffle away, closer to the far wall of the room, to give them room. Wei Wuxian smiles, momentarily diverted–clearly these boys feel they are sneaking a drink, and it reminds him of his younger days with Nie Huaisang.

Wei Wuxian returns his attention to Nie Huaisang and drops the pompous act, replacing it with an easy, genuine smile.

“Honestly, it’s only a bit of flirting,” he says, “women just want a man that’s like a friend…one who isn’t trying to get anything from them.”

Nie Huaisang cocks one eyebrow, leaning jauntily against the wall, “You have no scandalous motives?”

“None at all, my friend!” Wei Wuxian says honestly. It’s the truth–he enjoys talking and flirting and dancing, but he’s never quite understood the need some men seem to have of turning every interaction with a woman into something sexual.

Wei Wuxian downs the rest of his wine, and then gestures to Nie Huaisang with the empty glass.

“You didn’t want to join?” he asks, “I’d’ve thought you’d love to get in on that gossip.”

“No, no,” Nie Huaisang dismisses, “those girls don’t know anything new.”

Wei Wuxian narrows his eyes playfully, “How would you know what they know?”

“Well, because I was eavesdropping, of course.”

Wei Wuxian just shakes his head.

“Besides,” Nie Huaisang continues, “I’m much less conspicuous over here.”

“What–” Wei Wuxian judges, “lurking creepily by the alcohol all night?”

“Better than drowning myself amongst the largest group of girls in the room!” Nie Huaisang says, “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice the stares?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. He knew it was a bit impertinent, and that he might have received a few disapproving looks–like the one from Lan Wangji, for example–but all in all, he didn’t think it was too out of character for him.

Nie Huaisang laughs, “Wuxian, you were lounging about like a Roman emperor in a court of consorts, how did you not realize you had every eye in the room? It was quite convenient for me, as it were–gave me plenty of cover to be as nosy as I pleased, with everyone so distracted.”

Wei Wuxian scoffs reflexively, but only becomes confused as he thinks it over. He truly hadn’t noticed that many stares, save Captain Lan–he was just enjoying himself.

“Were they really looking that much?” he asks after a moment, “I was sincerely only delighting in polite conversation.”

It’s Nie Huaisang’s turn to scoff, and he says, “‘Polite conversation’? Polite conversation between you–a young, handsome, unmarried man–and nine young, handsome, very unmarried girls? You danced with every single one of them, Wuxian, don’t you understand that that means something to these people? To those girls?”

“It wasn’t like that, Huaisang,” Wei Wuxian protests, “and all of those girls know that it wasn’t. We were just being friendly! A bit of fun, honorably no more than ‘polite conversation’!

“Anyway,” he continues, “they aren’t all single! Mianmian’s engaged, and Qiao Huian’s been betrothed since she was little. All of the others are sixteen years or younger!”

Nie Huaisang gives him a look, “Okay, but you see how that’s worse, right?”

“Only if you assume such things!” Wei Wuxian complains, “I wasn’t even considering anything of the like until…ugh! You people really have nothing on your minds but marriage!”

Wei Wuxian walks determinately back to the table of wine, the younger boys scattering, and downs a second glass in one go.

“You’re just lucky Madam Yu was too engrossed in negotiations with Madam Qin to notice,” Nie Huaisang follows behind, “she is working very hard to talk you up, by the way. Did you know–words from her own mouth–that you’re set to receive a great sum once you're married, by way of the fact that your Aunt and Uncle are apparently about to legally adopt you?”

Wei Wuxian is stunned quiet for a moment. “Did you…eavesdrop on Aunt Yu?”

“I’ve just said as much, haven't I?” Nie Huaisang says smartly.

Wei Wuxian scoffs, “You’re going to meddle yourself into serious trouble with all that sneaking about, one of these days.”

“Oh, Wuxian,” Nie Huasiang says wistfully, as if imparting some great wisdom, “not as long as I have you around to make such public trouble all the time! If they’re watching you, then they aren’t watching me! Speaking of, you incurred quite the glare from Oh-Captain, My-Captain, over there–look, he’s still watching you…er, us, I suppose.”

Wei Wuxian huffs, and snags another glass of wine, “I couldn’t care less what any of them think!”

He takes a forceful sip, intending to prove his point with determination; his determination goes a little too far though, and he spills wine across his chin. Thankfully, he’s able to wipe it with his hand before any of it touches his new, expensive outfit, and when he looks back over, Lan Wangji has turned his attention away.

“Oh!” Nie Huaisang says suddenly, and Wei Wuxian’s own gaze is torn from Captain Lan’s figure, “look, Wuxian!”

Wei Wuxian follows Nie Huaisang’s interest and sees Aunt Yu approaching the Jin-Lan contingent with Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng in tow. They watch with bated breaths as Aunt Yu introduces her children, inviting a canon of polite curtsies and bows.

“You should be over there,” Nie Huaisang insists, and then pushes on Wei Wuxian’s arm, “go, Wuxian, go meet them!”

Wei Wuxian resists Nie Huaisang’s push with little effort, and takes a nonchalant–somewhat more cautious–sip of his wine.

“No,” Wei Wuxian counters, watching as Aunt Yu gestures to Yanli, clearly speaking with substantial authority even if he can’t tell what she’s saying from so far away. “No, if Aunt Yu wanted me along, she would have called for me.”

Nie Huaisang tuts, and when Wei Wuxian looks over, his friend's head is hung and shaking ‘no’.

“What?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Nie Huaisang sighs, “Sometimes, Wuxian, I think I grow too complacent about your aunt. It truly isn’t fair that–”

“‘Isn’t fair’?” Wei Wuxian interrupts, irritated by the fact that Nie Huaisang seems almost to be pitying him. “What reason would she have for introducing us, Huaisang? What reason do I have to want to be introduced?”

“That isn’t the point, Wuxian-”

“No, Huaisang, it isn’t your concern. With the Qins, there is at least a sliver of a chance at marriage, but neither Lord Jin nor Captain Lan have a sister, nor cousin, nor anyone that is in the market for a husband–much less a husband with no wealth to speak of. There is nothing to be accomplished by introducing us, so why should she sully Yanli’s reputation with my presence?”

“Wuxian–!”

“No!” Wei Wuxian interrupts again, for the first time growing genuinely troubled by his friend’s intrusive behavior. “I said, it isn’t your concern. Let’s talk about something else.”

Nie Huaisang huffs and mutters something unintelligible under his breath, but his and Wei Wuxian’s attention is caught by Lord Jin somehow managing to trip over his own feet while standing still. He rights himself with an improprietal hand on Captain Lan’s shoulder, cheeks flaming red. Jiang Yanli covers her mouth with a polite gesture, but her eyes betray her laughter.

“Well,” Nie Huaisang says, “even if we don’t introduce ourselves, I simply must know what all that was about. Come along, Wuxian!”

Despite his lingering irritation with his friend, Wei Wuxian has never been one to hold a grudge, and despite his resolve to not ruin this opportunity for Yanli, his curiosity is too strong to ignore. He hesitates only a moment, and then trails after Nie Huaisang.

They round the edge of the ballroom and approach the group from the side, inching just close enough to hear what the Jiang-Jin-Lan company is saying while still allowing the noise and density of the crowd to cover their presence.

“–understand Lord Jin is an enjoyer of recreational combat of honor, as well,” Aunt Yu is saying, “my own Wanyin is similarly sufficient in the art–perhaps a friendly match might be arranged between you, should the opportunity present itself during your stay in the area.”

Jin Zixuan clears his throat, his cheeks still flushed from his stumble, “Ah, indeed. It is a fair pastime. Should the opportunity present itself during your–ah, that is–during my–that is–our stay. In the, uh, the area.”

Holy shit, Wei Wuxian thinks, baffled, this guy’s a mess!

Jin Zixuan chuckles awkwardly at himself, clearing his throat again, “Is the Young Madam Jiang interested in such things, as well? Perhaps she might, uh, attend the match?”

Wei Wuxian knows full well that Jiang Yanli has never been a purveyor of violence in any form, and would likely enjoy nothing less than to sit and watch two amateur sword fighters play at a duel.

“It would be my honor to observe such a display between gentlemen,” Yanli says gracefully.

Wei Wuxian snorts under his breath. Jiang Cheng has only trained with Wei Wuxian in the art of the sword once or twice in his life, and it is reasonable that Jin Zixuan is the same way. Swords are more ornamental than anything, these days, and Aunt Yu’s proposal is nothing more than a formality. Both parties knowing that no such match will ever take place, however, does nothing to stop both Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan from posturing about it.

Captain Lan on the other hand, Wei Wuixan thinks, eyes drifting to the tall, silent officer, must be more than proficient in swordplay. It’s in the military set of his shoulders, and the relaxed, but technical way his hand rests on the hilt of his sword, concealed in a ceremonially bright, white scabbard. Wei Wuxian can see sturdy agility in the wide, lifted stance Lan Wangji has adopted, and he has the sudden itching wish that he had his own sword with him, and that he and Lan Wangji might go a round outside.

Jin Zixuan clears his throat again–seriously, someone get the man some water, or something–and bows slightly, “It would be my honor, Young Madam Jiang.”

“Combat of honor should not be carried out without official sanction from the throne,” Captain Lan cuts in, several pairs of eyes suddenly swiveling in his direction.

What a buzzkill. Surely Lan Wangji doesn’t take his job that seriously?

Wei Wuxian nudges Nie Huaisang, quirking an incredulous eyebrow at the comment, and Nie Huaisang conceals a laugh behind his wine glass.

Despite himself, however, Wei Wuxian can’t help but be jealous of the commanding presence of Lan Wangji’s voice. It’s deep and smooth, and his quiet tone still rings clear even to Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang, standing a few meters away. It is exactly the kind of voice one would imagine of a distinguished military general; sturdy, leaving no room for questions, and heard without the need to raise his voice.

His comment, on the other hand, is laughably out of place. Captain Lan has missed the social cue that such a promise of a duel is almost certainly empty, and additionally, he’s somehow managed to reprimand every single member of the group at once–even Aunt Yu.

He speaks the truth, so none of them can counter his statement, but that only leaves them all standing in an odd, tense quiet for a moment. Lan Wangji’s expression stays beautifully flat, seemingly above–or oblivious to–the petty, awkward air.

For Heaven’s sake, Wei Wuxian thinks, Lan Wangji might be even more conceited than Jin Zixuan! He wonders what other similar comments Lan Wangji has made since his arrival–how many people has he managed to anger with a single sentence? It’s almost an art, and was the Captain not such a lifeless drag, Wei Wuxian might even admire him for it.

“Of course,” Aunt Yu recovers, “we will have to find something else, then.”

It’s her most bitingly disguised tone, the one she uses in public to promise Wei Wuxian a sore future punishment–undetectable to a stranger, but it sends a shiver down Wei Wuxian’s back and through his scars. Clearly, this night has not been going as Aunt Yu hoped. Maybe she hadn’t been as ignorant to Wei Wuxian’s earlier dances as he thought?

“Yes,” Jin Zixuan says, “later, we will…do that. For now, how about–in the course of the night…if–well, as long as the Young Madam is amenable–I would be most encouraged if…would you honor me with, that is–a…dance?”

“Oh my God,” Nie Huaisang mutters, looking horrified.

Wei Wuxian concurs. When Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji had strutted into the party, Wei Wuxian expected pretentious arrogance and pride. Those things are still there, of course, but he had not expected either of them to be so painfully oafish.

“It would be my honor,” Jiang Yanli accepts.

Wei Wuxian leans over to murmur to Nie Huaisang, “If I hear the word ‘honor’ one more time tonight…”

They watch as the group make their goodbyes, another round of bows and curtsies circling the company, and then Aunt Yu finally leads Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng away.

Though no one else was realistically paying the scene any close attention, it feels as though the whole ballroom takes a breath, having put that appallingly awkward interaction behind them. Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes, turning back to Nie Huaisang.

“Well,” Huaisang says with a smirk, “that might’ve been the most uncomfortable introduction I’ve ever witnessed.”

Wei Wuxian hums, “Who knew a Lord could be so bumbling?”

“It’s a good sign,” Huaisang offers, “men are only so nervous when they truly like someone. If he had been too confident, then you’d know the invitation to dance was insincere.”

“That’s one way to see it, I suppose,” Wei Wuxian considers, “but I’m more interested in Captain Lan. Is he a natural born killjoy, or did he learn it from his private, expensive tutors? Really, I mean it–does he interject every conversation with laws, or just the ones where my cousin is trying to make an important connection?”

Nie Huaisang gives him an odd look, and opens his mouth to speak, but Wei Wuxian cuts him off before he can.

“Look!” Wei Wuxian gestures suddenly across the room, shoving his empty wine glass into Huaisang’s hand.

“What?”

“Qin Su,” Wei Wuxian says, “and they’re just about to start a new song, too! I’ll see you, Huaisang, I’ve got to try, at least!”

Wei Wuxian darts to the other side of the ballroom and slides in behind Qin Su just as she’s bidding adieu to an older couple from town.

He’d been lucky enough to get away with his nine superfluous dances earlier, so it’s best that he settle down and approach Qin Su with genuine intentions now–no matter how convinced he is that it will produce no results. She is very pretty and refined…how hard could it be to pretend to covet her?

“Young Madam Qin,” he calls her attention, giving a shallow bow and holding out hand, “it seems the next song is set to begin any moment. Might I make good on my earlier promise of a dance?”

Qin Su smiles kindly, and responds with a curtsy before placing her hand delicately in Wei Wuxian’s.

“Of course, Master Wei.”

Qin Su’s courtesy extends as long as it takes them to settle into their places on the dance floor, but once the music swells, and their conversation may be concealed by the melody, she pounces.

“So, Young Master Wei,” Qin Su goads, “we are quite a ways into tonight's festivities–was it nerves that kept you so long from approaching me again?”

From the glint in her eye, it is clear that Qin Su had not been oblivious to Wei Wuxian’s earlier dances. Luckily, she seems amused rather than offended.

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian laughs it off, muscle-memory taking him through the beginning waltz-like steps of the dance, “the Young Madam Qin is observant. Indeed, you were simply too beautiful–I needed to work up the courage!”

They fall into the dance, right hands lifted and crossed between them as they circle each other.

“Hm, I see,” Qin Su muses, “so it didn’t have anything to do with Luo Qingyang? Or Qiao Huian? Or all five Liu sisters? Or–”

Wei Wuxian laughs, momentarily breaking synchrony with the other dancers to press his hands together in front of him in a praying motion.

He completes the gesture with a pout, “Please, Madam Qin, spare me your teasing! I promise, I harbor no untoward intentions whatsoever. You must allow me to beg for your forgiveness!”

He stalls so long that one of the other couples bumps into them, and Wei Wuxian exaggerates his stumble for humor’s sake. Qin Su rolls her eyes at his theatrics, but she does smile, and they seamlessly rejoin dance.

“Don’t worry, Master Wei,” she says, the fabric of her dress-skirt swishing around their feet, “I’m only in jest. I already knew you to be a fair dancer, and tonight has confirmed it.”

Wei Wuxian grins, “So, you were watching me, then?”

The dance calls for a brief change of partners, so Wei Wuxian doesn’t see Qin Su’s reaction. By the time they are reconnected, her face is once again pristine, with a pleasant expression, and Wei Wuxian smiles warmly.

“I’m just teasing, as well, Young Madam,” he explains, their right hands joining in the middle once more, “it is only that I asked Madam Luo to dance, and it didn’t feel right to scorn the younger girls.”

“There is no need to defend yourself, Master Wei,” Qin Su assures, “I find it heartening; it is admirable that you would entertain them so. Besides, I happen to be aware that many of them are already courting or engaged.”

“Indeed,” Wei Wuxian says, “I am glad you are able to understand friendliness between a man and a woman.”

“And this?” Qin Su asks, as the dance calls for them to step close to one another, “Is it friendliness for you as well?”

Wei Wuxian chuckles, suddenly awkward, as they step away and continue weaving in and out of other dancers.

He had intended to approach Qin Su as Aunt Yu wished–with intentions beyond friendliness–but there is no more romance on his part than with any of the girls from earlier, no matter how appreciative he is that Qin Su seems to disregard the rumors about him.

It seems Qin Su must feel the same, given her playfulness, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what answer she’s expecting from him. Is it rude to confirm his platonic regard, or is it too presumptuous to profess attraction? And, would she see right through him if he attempted to do so?

They momentarily exchange partners again, granting Wei Wuxian a brief respite to consider his answer, but he is almost immediately distracted when he once again catches Captain Lan watching him from across the room. Now that he knows how much of a fuddy-duddy the man is, Wei Wuxian recognizes the look in his eye as pure contempt. Undoubtedly, Captain Lan is one of those people who feels dancing at all is promiscuous and sinful, much less dancing with as many people as Wei Wuxian has.

They make eye contact, magnifying the intensity of Captain Lan’s gaze, but it is only a moment before the choreography spins Wei Wuxian away.

Only when Wei Wuxian is passed back to Qin Su does he remember her question, and he realizes, in Lan Wangji’s distraction, he hasn’t a clue what to say.

Wei Wuxian clears his throat, face to face with Qin Su once more.

“Apologies,” he says, “what was it you asked me?”

Qin Su just smiles and says, “Nothing, Master Wei.”

The rest of their dance is painfully quiet. Wei Wuxian is reminded of Aunt Yu drilling him for information on the Qin family earlier in the week, but is hard pressed to find any natural way to bring up the fact that Qin Su’s father’s sister married a Lan, which is the only thing he can remember right now, for some reason.

He laments the fact that it was so easy to flirt with Mianmian and the others earlier. Why is it that, when he had no further intentions, he could charm them all, but now, his charisma fails him?

Maybe it is because of the lack of intention. It was comfortable, with Mianmian for example, because there were no expectations. Neither anticipated more from the other than fun, but with Qin Su…

The crux of the matter, he decides, as his dance with Qin Su comes to a close, is that Qin Su must have some idea of what Aunt Yu wants from them. She would know his flirting to be true, with intention. But, how could he lead her on that way? Flirting with the others is different because he knows they know he doesn’t mean it–but to deceive Qin Su with false purpose…it’s too dishonest.

Aunt Yu will not be pleased, but even as Qin Su thanks him for the dance and walks away, Wei Wuxian doesn’t have it in him to pursue something so deceptive.

He sighs, and finds the nearest empty wall to slump against, taking a moment for himself amongst the flurry, motion, and music of the party.

These events are always a double-edged sword–he wants to enjoy himself, he does enjoy himself, but as much as he desires to ignore responsibilities entirely, no one will let him. He can’t go more than a minute without something reminding him that this isn’t all just for entertainment. He can’t enjoy a dance without someone reading into it; he can’t approach Qin Su without remembering that he’s supposed to be finding a wife. He can’t even hang around Jiang Cheng anymore, these days, without his cousin finding some way to push him towards social correctness.

Wei Wuxian wishes he was still sixteen, just emerging into high society. He was fresh and excited, then; a flailing mess, but endearing for it. It didn’t matter so much if he danced with everyone in the room, so long as he could be construed as young and innocent. There was still pressure, then, but not nearly so much as now.

Speaking of, who knows what Aunt Yu will see fit to do to him when she learns of his failure.

More crushingly, this was also probably his last chance. It is likely that, after tonight, Wei Wuxian will no longer be treated as a marriage piece, but as a soldier. He wonders how long it will take. As soon as tomorrow morning? Maybe his Aunt and Uncle will be kind and allow him to see the season through in Yunmeng, at least.

Wei Wuxian huffs–this is all far too maudlin for him. If it is to be his last night in society, he should be enjoying every second!

He rolls his shoulders and glances around the room for a distraction; it seems the universe is on his side, because Mianmian comes striding over at that very moment.

There is a Jin in pursuit of her, it appears.

“Master Wei!” Mianmian fawns in a way that is much more delicate than he knows her to be. “I’m so relieved to have caught you; might we have the dance you promised earlier?”

It doesn’t take much for Wei Wuxian to catch on, and, in fact, a good ruse might be just what he needs right now. He takes in the Jin’s pinched expression, and gets into character, stepping far closer to Mianmian than is proper. The Jin’s eyebrows furrow when he notices the back of Wei Wuxian’s hand brushing Mianmian’s.

“It would be my pleasure,” Wei Wuxian announces, and then says to the Jin, “I hope you don’t mind!”

They don’t give him a chance to answer before jumping into the next dance just as it begins.

“Ugh, thank you, Master Wei,” Mianmian says, “I didn’t mean to accost you so, but I desperately needed to avoid that man.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Wei Wuxian says honestly, leading Mianmian with an elegant hand, “but, my dear Madam Luo, you are going to start rumors about us! Two dances in one night?”

Mianmian huffs in a very unmannered way, and Wei Wuxian has to wonder just how long that Jin was harassing her before she managed to get away, to break her composure like this.

“Pardon me,” Mianmian says, “but I truly do not give a shit about what these people think of me. And you are a man–your reputation will be fine.”

Wei Wuxian laughs delightedly at the language, ignoring the comment about his own person–one more dance won’t make things any worse for him, it’s true, but only because he has already ruined his chances with Qin Su.

“Quite so,” he says, lifting his chin. “Go on then, complain to your heart’s content! I am at your disposal!”

Mianmian shakes her head, but she already seems more relaxed, and she moves fluidly through the dance at Wei Wuxian’s side.

“To be honest, I’m surprised you don’t already know the story,” she says.

Wei Wuxian shrugs, spinning Mianmian on his arm, “I’ve never cared much for gossip.”

“I was betrothed to a Jin as a child,” Mianmian explains. It’s startling information, but Wei Wuxian stays quiet, letting Mianmian vent her frustrations however she needs–her grip on his hand, for example, is painfully tight, but he doesn’t mention it.

She continues, “He was a terrible man, and much older than me. Dishonest, immoral, and the type of ‘gentleman’ who took anything he was refused. I vowed that I would never marry him, and when my parents wouldn’t break the troth, I ran off with the stableboy.”

Wei Wuxian laughs brightly again, his earlier overwhelm entirely forgotten.

“Well,” he says, “I’m sure that caused considerable scandal. The stableboy–he is your fiance?”

Mianmian relaxes even further. “Soon to be, yes. We need to save a bit first, but…yes.”

Wei Wuxian hums, stepping in time to the music as he thinks.

“You give me hope, Mianmian,” he says, pensive, “maybe one day a beautiful lady of high standing will come to run away with me!”

Mianmian rolls her eyes, and Wei Wuxian relishes in the fact that she seems so comfortable around him.

“It seems you’re a romantic, Master Wei,” she says.

“You are the one who threw off a wealthy life with a Jin for the sake of true love,” he counters. They circle each other through the choreography, to the right for eight counts, and then left.

“If you’ve already found your soulmate,” Wei Wuxian prompts, “why continue to attend parties?”

“I enjoy them,” Mianmian says simply, “I think you can relate. My fiance doesn’t like crowded places, but he knows I love to attend. He trusts me.”

“I’m glad,” Wei Wuxian says earnestly, “all the better for me, that I get the chance to dance with you in my lifetime.”

Mianmian sighs again, but she’s smiling now, and Wei Wuxian can tell he’s winning her over.

“Such a flirt,” she admonishes.

“I mean it, Mianmian,” Wei Wuxian insists, “thank you for making tonight so entertaining.”

Mianmian couldn’t know, but it may very well be his last dance for months. It will certainly be his last for tonight–he can only avoid Aunt Yu for so long, and she is sure to have heard of his abysmal results with Qin Su by now. Wei Wuxian finds himself appreciating Mianmian and her rare companionship with an unexpected vehemence.

He and Mianmian finish their dance and exchange one last bow.

“I hope to see you again, Madam Luo,” he says.

“You as well, Master Wei,” says Mianmian, and then she fades into the crowd.

Wei Wuxian steps away from the mass of people in the ballroom, and finds himself continuing on until he reaches the hall that leads out to the back gardens. He is nearly alone in the grand corridor, and he takes a second to catch his breath. Beyond the impropriety of dancing so often in one night, it is also a surprising test to Wei Wuxian’s physical endurance, and–

“Wei Wuxian!”

A sudden hand yanks Wei Wuxian aside by the arm, and he finds himself face to face with a livid Aunt Yu.

His only comfort is that she wouldn’t dare do anything too harsh in public, but Wei Wuxian experiences a swooping dread for the night to come.

“What use are you!?” She hisses, “Jiang Cheng tells me you’ve profligated yourself around to half the women in the room, yet when it comes to the one with any worth, you can’t even manage a second dance?”

Wei Wuxian shrinks away from her. Instinctively, he glances around for help, but anyone that had been in the hall seems to have cleared out as soon as Aunt Yu stormed over.

He’s all alone.

Aunt Yu continues to berate him, “You’re already poor and family-less, do you want to add immoral and indecent to the list?”

She tugs harshly at his arm again, but Wei Wuxian remains silent.

“A handsome face does not account for the disgrace of ill-breeding, I suppose!”

She waits, but Wei Wuxian has learned from experience that if he doesn’t know exactly what she wants to hear, it is better to say nothing at all.

“Not even going to defend yourself? Fine!” She pulls away in a rush, “I have better things to be doing right now–we will address this at home. You can go ahead and pack your things tonight, because mark my words, you’ll be gone by dawn!”

It’s a common threat, but it stings a little harsher this time, considering Aunt Yu might finally have a good enough excuse to follow through.

The lifted voices of conversation still spilling out of the distant ballroom crescendos to a buzz against his ears, suddenly too loud for him to handle. Wei Wuxian stumbles further away from the main ballroom, until he somehow finds himself in the kitchens, startling the staff inside. There is a tray on the side of the room prepared with glasses of wine, and Wei Wuxian, ignoring the protesting looks from the staff, downs one, and then another.

He grabs two more glasses–one with each hand–and leaves the poor serving staff be, stumbling back out towards the increasingly loud party.

But–no, he wants to get away from the noise. Wei Wuxian turns the other way, instead using his elbow to open the door out to the gardens, stepping into the crisp, midnight air.

His vision goes slightly blurry. Wei Wuxian wonders if he might have had too much to drink tonight.

Oh! There is more wine in his hands! He drinks that, too.

How did he get out of the kitchens? He doesn’t remember. He does remember that there was something he didn’t want to remember, but he can’t remember what it was anymore, so the alcohol must be doing its job!

He stumbles further into the gardens, careful even in his stupor of the neat rows of vegetables and flowerbeds, and he appreciates the fresh air.

Wait, hadn’t he had a glass of wine in his hand? Two of them! Where did they go?

He drank them–he remembers that much–but where did he put the glasses?

Ah! Look! It’s Captain Lan and Lord Jin!

When did they come out here? They look quite suspicious, murmuring like that. There are plenty of other guests outside as well, but Lan Wangji looks particularly suspicious. Why? Just because.

He does, he looks quite suspicious! And why has he been staring at Wei Wuxian all night, huh?

Well, then, Wei Wuxian thinks, already shuffling in the Captain’s direction, might as well go find out!

-

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian has never been so stealthy in his life, he thinks, as he darts between columns and hedges on his way to Lord Jin and Captain Lan’s side of the gardens. It’s like an adventure novel–the hero on a spy mission to save the kingdom!

He comes upon a low opening between hedges, a space that is probably not meant for humans, and has the perfect idea! Launch himself–! Ah, no–that's not very stealthy is it?

Roll under! Aha, yes! Cool and stealthy!

He crouches down, looks left and right to make sure no one’s watching him, and then goes for it, somersaulting under the hedgerow.

Immediately, Wei Wuxian knows he has made a mistake. He rights himself on the other side of the hedge, but the world keeps spinning around him, and a stinging bile rises in his throat.

Wow, he thinks as he vomits in the Qin family’s back garden, I haven’t been this drunk in a while.

It burns his throat and leaves his eyes watering. Absent-mindedly, he equates it to Aunt Yu’s wooden spoon–failure, after all, always equals pain.

Wei Wuxian glances around himself, gagging when he spots the puddle of puke and darting his gaze away again.

It was a ridiculous decision to roll, Wei Wuxian reflects with the newfound wisdom of being a few seconds older, brushing dirt and leaves from his new suit. He stands to walk a few paces further down the hedgerow and realizes there is a built in gate right next to his make-shift tunnel–right, well…even more ridiculous.

On the brightside, his retching has expelled some of the wine, leaving him with a slightly clearer head, even if his vision is still blurry around the edges.

“Sorry, Qin Su,” he says aloud to the night air, sheepish and dizzy and maudlin, “sorry for ruining your garden. And…sorry for ruining our dance. I really tried, for Aunt Yu’s sake, but…that might’ve been the problem…whenever things really matter…”

Wei Wuxian taps his nose with a sigh, and then shakes his head, disappointed in himself.

The shaking makes him dizzy again, and Wei Wuxian clutches both hands to his cheeks in an effort to stop the world from spinning.

Wait…what was he even doing out here?

He sighs again, to no one. He can hear distant murmurs from conversations closer to the house, and muffled music beyond that. Bugs chirp from the plants and trees encircling him. Wei Wuxian looks out across the grounds beyond the gardens, past the border of the Qin Estate, to a dark mess of unkempt trees, and he is hit with the overwhelming desire to disappear into the brush.

He’s in the middle of weighing the pros and cons of sincerely running off into the forest when a voice rises above the rest, suddenly much closer to Wei Wuxian than before. He rounds the nearest hedgerow, hugging close to avoid detection, and peers cautiously down the dimly lit pathway; abruptly, he remembers why he’d been playing action hero in the first place.

It’s Lord Jin and Captain Lan, still suspiciously muttering between them. What are they doing so far out here, anyway?

They step into a ray of silver light from the moon, and when Wei Wuxian gets a good look at Lan Wangji’s illuminated, statuesque face, he is overcome with a twist of fury. He doesn’t remember why, exactly, but something about Captain Lan is really starting to piss him off.

“–no question that she’s beautiful,” Jin Zixuan is saying as the pair stroll slowly through the gardens, “but I fear my father wouldn’t approve. The Jiangs have wealth, but it is unusual in my family to court someone that does not already have a noble title.”

“Yes, Zixuan,” comes Lan Wangji’s smooth voice, “this is the fifth time you’ve said as such.”

Jin Zixuan huffs; his face is shadowed and difficult to make out, but Wei Wuxian amuses himself by imagining a very childish pout. Wei Wuxian imitates the expression on his own face, contorting his eyebrows and sticking out his lower lip, but the concentration of doing so makes him dizzy again, and he slumps against the scratchy branches of the hedge for support.

“Well, Wangji, it’s a genuine dilemma!” Jin Zixuan halts the duo’s promenade, half of his profile lit by the moon as he throws his spoiled tantrum. “As my friend, you should support my endeavors! She is perhaps the most beautiful woman I have ever met, the most elegant, and I’ve never been endeared so quickly! I could hardly speak around her!”

At least that much is clear, and quite right, too!

Wei Wuxian may think Jin Zixuan a pompous, arrogant fool, but these comments are only confirmation of his already obvious intentions, and his wealth will allow Jiang Yanli a more than comfortable life. Wei Wuxian might be swayed to favor him, as long as he keeps waxing rightfully on about how perfect Yanli is.

“I support your endeavors,” Lan Wangji replies with no inflection whatsoever, and despite his resolve to hate Lan Wangji and all he stands for, Wei Wuxian can’t stifle a quiet laugh. At least the rigid Lan also seems to think Jin Zixuan and his ramblings are unnecessarily dramatic.

“That’s all I get?” Jin Zixuan asks, huffing again. “Give me some advice or something!”

“What advice would you like?”

“Well…what did you think of her family? Are they civil enough to make up for the lack of title?” Jin Zixuan asks.

This has Wei Wuxian’s full attention, and he inches closer.

Lan Wangji thinks for a long moment. Finally, he says, “Jiang Yanli is certainly a refined young woman-” yes, indeed, Wei Ying thinks- “her mother equally so, if a bit brash-” fair- “and Jiang Fengmian is weak-willed; should you ask for his daughter’s hand, he will say yes.”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth drops open. To think, Captain Lan would dare to say something like that in public! Granted, it is true…but still! He should keep such unsavory opinions to himself! Wei Wuxian stumbles forward in his indignation, but hastily re-conceals himself behind the hedge.

“And what of her brother, Jiang Wanyin?” Jin Zixuan prompts.

Lan Wangji pauses to think again, before answering: “His manner could be more refined. He is too loud, too quick to anger–like his mother. I’d imagine he is quite protective of his sister, and he might be your biggest obstacle to overcome.”

Obstacle? Wei Wuxian thinks, incredulous, putting an offended hand on his hip as if Captain Lan could see him.

Lan Wangji, while cold and arrogant and propensive towards glaring, did not seem the type to air his petty thoughts aloud like this. Again, his observations aren’t wrong–Jiang Cheng is certainly all those things–but for a man from a family who honors propriety above all else, it is a shock to the system to hear such blatant disrespect from his mouth.

“I’d ask you, Zixuan,” Lan Wangji begins, “what of the third Jiang child?”

“Wei Wuxian?”

At the sound of his name, Wei Wuxian’s focus is entirely recaptured–Captain Lan is talking about him!

“If that is what he is called,” Lan Wangji says cooly, “the one in the red vest. I thought he was Jiang Yanli’s sibling, but Madam Yu did not introduce him like the others.”

Jin Zixuan hums, “He’s their ward, from what I’ve heard. Nineteen years of age, or so. You should keep up with the news more often, Captain Lan, it caused quite the scandal when Master Jiang took him in–about a decade ago, now.”

“‘Gossip’ is not news,” Lan Wangji redresses. They are still standing in the middle of the path, but while Jin Zixuan shifts his weight and gestures with every word, Lan Wangji stands as still and proper as a sculpture, one arm tucked behind his back, the other resting on the decorated hilt of his sword. His skin is otherworldly in the haloed glow of moonlight.

“You know as well as I do that it is just as important, in a world like ours,” Jin Zixuan counters.

Lan Wangji goes quiet for a minute.

After Jin Zixuan does not continue on his own, Lan Wangji nudges, “Well, what of him?”

Wei Wuxian is still transfixed on the conversation. A sticky leaf itches at his cheek, and he straightens up, realizing he’d begun to lean in towards the pair.

“Oh?” Jin Zixuan feigns confusion, and takes on a tone of superiority, “I thought the Lans did not meddle with things so immoral as gossip.”

Lan Wangji huffs, so quiet that Wei Wuxian almost thinks he’s imagined it.

“I admit,” Lan Wangji says, “I am…curious.”

Jin Zixuan hums, self-satisfied. “They call him cousin, but there is no blood relation. In truth, it is said that Master Jiang treats him more like a son.”

“Why such scandal?” Lan Wangji asks.

“It’s rumored…” Jin Zixuan drops his voice to a faux whisper, “that he’s actually Jiang Fengmian’s bastard.”

They go quiet.

Bastard!? As if Wei Wuxian needed any more reason to dislike Jin Zixuan! If he didn’t have Jiang Yanli’s future to think about, Wei Wuxian would jump out and confront them both, right here and now! Jin Zixuan has certainly lost any chance of being liked rather than tolerated. How dare he speak ill of Uncle Jiang!

“Mm, I am satisfied,” Lan Wangji says, “that gossip is still just gossip. This accusation has no merit, and I don’t believe it.”

Hmph, that’s right! Wei Wuxian thinks, Lan Wangji momentarily earning his good opinion.

It is a very short lived solidarity.

“Certainly,” Lan Wangji continues, tone as cool as ever, “Jiang Fengmian could never have such an unmannered tramp for a son.”

Wei Wuxian’s jaw drops and he is shocked backwards, stumbling over his own feet.

“My, Lan Wangji!” Jin Zixuan is startled into a laugh, “I think that’s the rudest thing I’ve ever heard you say!”

“Do you not agree?” Lan Wangji says, and the smoothness of his voice that Wei Wuxian had been so jealous of takes on a grating, irritating quality. “I watched him dance with nearly every girl present tonight, charming them ceaselessly and then wandering off to find someone new.”

“No, no,” Jin Zixuan defends, “I do agree. Thankful, then, that he is not Jiang Yanli’s blood relative-”

Wei Wuxian has heard quite enough. He backs away from the hedge and stalks off towards the house, searching for Nie Huaisang and another drink, not necessarily in that order.

-

He finds Nie Huaisang conversing with a few boys from town, and yanks him away from the conversation with little ceremony.

“Wuxian?” Huaisang questions, steadying Wei Wuxian with an arm on his shoulder. “What are you doing? Where did you run off to? And, ugh–your breath is absolutely foul!”

Wei Wuxian ignores him, swaying into his friend, “Huaisang, you won’t believe what I’ve just witnessed! A scandal of all proportions! The true ghastliness beneath Captain Lan’s pomp and prettiness! I need a drink!”

“A drink of water, certainly,” Huaisang says, tutting, “and if I’m telling you to sober up then you know it must be bad.” Huaisang fusses around him, brushing dirt from Wei Wuxian’s sleeves and pulling sticks from his hair.

“Honestly, how did you manage–you look like you’ve just come from a roll-around in the gardens!”

Wei Wuxian laughs at the memory of himself, stumbling as Huaisang begins to lead him around the edge of the room, “I did indeed, Huaisang! I’m sure it would have been quite embarrassing to witness!”

“Whatever you say, Wuxian.”

As soon as he blinks it seems they’ve managed to travel the length of the hall, and Huaisang is pressing a glass into his hand, helping him to sit down. The music and blabber is still loud, lights still bright, but Huaisang has guided him to a somewhat secluded corner.

Wei Wuxian raises the glass to cheers his friend, and then makes to drink the whole thing in one go, except–

“Ugh,” Wei Wuxian spits his gulp back into the glass, “water!? How can you betray me this way?”

“Drink it, Wuxian,” Huaisang urges, guiding the cup back to Wei Wuxian’s mouth with a surprisingly gentle hand.

Huaisang makes him drink the whole thing, and then two more after that. It’s practically torture, but once fifteen or so minutes have passed and the world begins to slot back into focus, Wei Wuxian will admit Huaisang might’ve been right. It serves to rinse his mouth of the taste of vomit, as well.

With a pained groan, Wei Wuxian rubs a hand across his face, feeling a difficult mix of half-drunk and groggy, sad and numb.

“Thanks, Huaisang,” he finally mutters.

Huaisang rubs a hand across his back, “Are you somewhat back with us, Wuxian?”

Wei Wuxian scoffs, “As if you haven’t had just as much.”

“Clearly, I haven’t,” Huaisang says, and then probes, “is there anything going on, A-Xian? You know you can talk to me, if you need. There is such a thing as an unhealthy amount of drinking, as much as I loathe to admit it.”

Wei Wuxian sighs. He leans his weight over onto Huaisang, though this time it’s more for comfort than out of necessity.

There are many things Wei Wuxian would certainly like to complain about–his own failures, the societal constraints that make dancing such a big to-do, the shadow of Aunt Yu that seems to loom over his every action these days. But all of those things make him bitter, mawkish–what he needs right now is a fight.

Just then, the fuel he needs waltzes right back into the ballroom.

“Captain Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian declares, startling Huaisang, “what a dick! Jin Zixuan, too–they’re the bastards.”

Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan blend right back into the hubbub, a swarm of mothers and daughters surrounding the pair as if they’d never left.

“Still so austere, Captain Lan,” he mutters, “if only they all knew how brutish you really are!”

Huaisang snorts, “What on Earth did he say to you, Wuxian?”

“Not to me,” Wei Wuxian admits, “you’d be proud, Huaisang. I did some sleuth snooping–though, look where it’s gotten me. I’m sad and drunk, and the pair of them get to go on like nothing occurred at all!”

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Wuxian,” Huaisang tugs at his arm, “what did they say? Tell me, tell me!”

“Well,” Wei Wuxian begins, as they watch Jin Zixuan take the hand of a village girl for a dance, “Jin Zixuan is quite besotted with my sister–as he should be–but when it comes to the rest of the family, Captain Lan has raked us all over the coals without hesitation! ‘Weak-willed’ of Uncle Jiang, he said, ‘brash’ of Aunt Yu, and that Jiang Cheng is ‘too quick to anger.’”

“And, of you?” Nie Huaisang prompts.

Wei Wuxian scoffs, “Apparently, to the ever-refined Captain Lan, I am, in no uncertain terms, an ‘unmannered tramp.’”

Huaisang gasps dramatically enough to vindicate Wei Wuxian. Indeed, it was an outrageous thing to say.

“Oh, Wuxian,” Huaisang says, “don’t you listen to him. You’re a very handsome, very refined tramp, of course!”

Wei Wuxian huffs, but in truth, the dig improves his mood.

It dips back down again quite quickly when Lan Wangji breaks his vigil to suddenly lead Qin Su out to the dance floor.

Wei Wuxian sneers, “Bastard.”

“Poor Qin Su,” Huaisang shakes his head, “to be forced to dance with such a man.”

Wei Wuxian humphs like a child, rolling his eyes.

“Come now, don’t pout,” Huaisang scolds, whacking Wei Wuxian with the back of his hand, “Qin Su, as the daughter of the host, must dance with the wealthiest gentlemen in the room, and Lan Wangji, as one of the wealthiest gentleman in the room, must request it of her. It’s purely an obligation, and I’m sure it is the most awkward dance this hall has ever seen.”

Lan Wangji, despite his many character flaws, is a rather elegant dancer. He makes an infuriatingly attractive pair with Qin Su, and Wei Wuxian can already hear Aunt Yu, condemning him for losing out to such a stale man.

“You know,” Huaisang comments, “that’s the only time he’s danced all night. At least Jin Zixuan had the decency to entertain the others.”

“Jin Zixuan did?” Wei Wuxian asks, “When?”

Huaisang shrugs, “While you were preoccupied, engaging in your tramp-like ways. Lan Wangji didn’t, though–he just stood there like a wall, watching you be depraved and ‘unmannered.’”

“At least I showed those girls a fun night,” Wei Wuxian defends, “if he didn’t want to dance, he shouldn’t have shown up at all!”

The rows of dancers weave in and out as they watch, Lan Wangji’s every move calculated and revealing years of expensive lessons. He keeps his chin haughtily high, not even looking his partners in the eye.

“You just don’t understand these things, Wuxian,” Huaisang says, also entranced by the pulsing group dance, “it is about appearance, upholding standards, the requirements of ‘high society.’”

“Who cares about appearance!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, fed up, “What of his appearance!? Sure, he might be the most attractive person in the room, I can admit, but what does it matter when he’s the personality of an ass? Isn’t it just cruel, to show up here, to make these women think he’s interested when he’s not?”

Nie Huaisang turns to face him, one eyebrow raised, “Forgive me, Wuxian, but is that not exactly what you do? Some might say it’s worse, for at least Captain Lan doesn’t flirt. You speak as if his mere presence is enough to convince one that they might have a chance!”

Wei Wuxian sputters, “It is not at all the same! I may flirt, and dance, and dally, but not one of these girls would ever entertain a marriage to myself! I have nothing to offer beyond a night of fun–” his voice raises with every word, frustration building, “it’s men like Lan Wangji whose very presence indeed promise a stable, wealthy future and many beautiful babies!”

“Wuxian, it sounds as if you want a future with him.”

Wei Wuxian sucks in a breath, aghast.

“Huaisang!” he scolds lowly, glancing around to make sure no one has overheard, “don’t speak like that!”

“Whyever not?”

“Why–? You could be arrested, Huaisang, that’s why! You’re going to get me arrested.”

Nie Huaisang turns his head closer, adopting the same serious expression, “You are the one who has been talking about him all night. Wuxian, you know if you really did…there are men who–”

“Huaisang!” Wei Wuxian insists, shoving a hand over Nie Huaisang’s mouth to shut him up. “Don’t speak of it any longer.”

Nie Huaisang shoves Wei Wuxian’s hand away, “I won’t, but only if you go talk to Lan Wangji.”

“What!? Why!?”

“You clearly want to!” Huaisang gestures across the room, where the dance is drawing to a close. “Go tell him off, or pester him to death, or something–as long as you still believe that’s what this is all about.”

Wei Wuxian glowers at him, “I know what you’re implying, Master Nie, and I don’t appreciate it. I will go talk to Lan Wangji, if only to prove to you that I hate him!”

Huaisang shrugs again, “Prove it, then. You’d better hurry, seems he’s running off.”

Wei Wuxian sweeps back around in time to catch the tail end of Captain Lan slipping down a vacant hall off of the main ballroom.

He imagines revenge for a moment: Captain Lan, frustrated and flustered and pushed to the breaking point by Wei Wuxian’s incessant chatter, thinly-veiled insults, and all around unpleasantness. Would he react with explosive anger, like Jiang Cheng? No–Wei Wuxian bets Lan Wangji is a cold sort of angry, a frigid fury, stalking towards Wei Wuxian to shut him up, maybe even pulling out his sword–

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian concedes, the image of a flushed Lan Wangji quickly searing itself into his mind; vengeance would be satisfying.

Nie Huaisang pulls him up and pushes him towards the other side of the hall with one last inciting, doubtful expression.

Wei Wuxian shakes him off, and navigates through the crowd towards the hall Lan Wangji had taken. It leads to a staircase, which Wei Wuxian takes three steps at a time, and ends with a large wooden door. As Wei Wuxian eases it shut behind him, the sounds of the party below are sealed away.

He knows this is beyond the bounds of the ball. Being invited into the Qin family manor is usually such an honor that guests wouldn’t even consider the impropriety of exploring anything behind closed doors, but apparently Captain Lan has enough prestige to wander about wherever he likes.

Wei Wuxian finds Lan Wangji easily, the Captain standing on one of the second floor balconies and staring wistfully off into the night sky.

Wei Wuxian steels himself, setting his shoulders and preparing for any manner of confrontation. Residual rage, frustration, and defeat from the rest of the night bubble inside, and he’s torn between going home, attempting to tease, or jumping into an all-out brawl with Captain Lan–that sword must be good for something, after all.

But no, Wei Wuxian thinks, he would seem like a crazed drunkard, and it's doubtful that Captain Lan would engage. Perhaps subtlety is the best play.

“Beautiful evening, isn’t it?” he opens, stepping out onto the balcony. If he’s startled Captain Lan, it doesn’t show.

Lan Wangji merely hums in response, not even glancing his way.

Wei Wuxian barely keeps from rolling his eyes at the haughtiness–he’s not worth a proper reply, apparently. He steps up to the railing, stopping with an almost indecently small amount of space left between him and Lan Wangji.

Standing so close, Wei Wuxian can see just how pristine Captain Lan’s clothes are. The bright span of blue across his broad chest, glittering with silver thread, shining buttons, and various dangling military accolades. The new, pieced-together suit Wei Wuxian wears doesn’t even compare–he can only imagine how drastically different the two of them would look if Wei Wuxian were wearing his usual day-to-day affair.

Extrapolating that Lan Wangji must care an ever greater deal about appearance than the usual fussy nobility, Wei Wuxian sheds his overcoat and hangs it over the railing, then pulls his hair from its high ponytail and wraps his red ribbon around his wrist instead.

“What are you doing?” Lan Wangji asks, stepping back, clearly appalled at the lack of decorum in front of a stranger.

“It’s so stuffy down there, isn’t it?” Wei Wuxian shakes his head, hair falling down around his face, “I’m Wei Wuxian, by the way–ward of the Jiang family. We weren’t formally introduced.”

This, despite Wei Wuxian’s appearance, kickstarts Lan Wangji back into formality. If only he knew what Wei Wuxian had overheard–no amount of politeness could dig Lan Wangji out of that hole.

“Apologies,” Lan Wangji says, bowing, “I am Lan–”

“Oh, no worries, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, earning a miniscule furrow between the Captain’s brows, “I know who you are already.

“After all,” he continues, scathing, “no one but a Lan would take it upon themselves to walk into the private areas of the hosting family’s home.”

Shaken again, Lan Wangji looks back into the house through the open balcony door, moving to go back inside, “I was unaware that guests were required to–”

Wei Wuxian stops Lan Wangji with a hand to his wrist, “Oh, don’t worry, Captain Lan–it's good to break rules every now and again. I bet you’ve never broken a rule in your life, have you?”

Lan Wangji frowns, “Unhand me.”

“Only if you promise not to leave!” Wei Wuxian bargains, a slick grin on his lips. “It’s so boring in there, isn’t it? I was seeking a good conversation, so you’d better hold up your end of the deal!”

“There was no deal,” Captain Lan states, and Wei Wuxian is already sensing the brewing frustrations within him. Really, Lan Wangji is too uptight if this is all the badgering he can handle.

“Well, let’s make one, then! A good conversation is impossible to find at a ball–all anyone wants to talk about is who’s dancing with who, who’s engaged, and who’s engaged to be engaged. Let’s have a good conversation, and if I’m satisfied, you can go. If, however, my conversation is not satisfactory to you, then…well, what would you want with me?”

Lan Wangji is silent, his wrist flexing under Wei Wuxian’s hold. He deliberates a moment longer, and then steps back out to the edge of the balcony.

“I promise not to leave,” he says formally, and then less so: “Let go.”

His voice, when directed immediately at Wei Wuxian, is every bit as commanding as Wei Wuxian expected of a Lan, perhaps more so. It’s firm, unyielding, and low into the quiet of the night; no doubt considerably effective when the Captain commands his battalion. Wei Wuxian grins, and were Lan Wangji more familiar, he would know it to be mischievous.

Wei Wuxian drops Lan Wangji’s wrist. With his freed hand, he casually unbuttons his vest, and then runs a hand through his hair, ruffling even more.

Lan Wangji called him a tramp–well then, Captain Lan, a tramp Wei Wuxian shall be.

He’s gratified to watch as Lan Wangji’s eyes linger on the open vest, on the starched neck of his dress shirt, and finally flit up to the mess of his hair. Baseless, really, as Wei Wuxian has never gone further with a girl than chaste, innocent kissing, but clearly an easy way to strain Lan Wangji’s so called ‘morals’.

“Well then,” Wei Wuxian begins, leaning jauntily forward over the balcony railing and looking back at Lan Wangji over his shoulder, “what shall be the riveting topic of tonight’s conversation?”

“One should comment on the decor,” Lan Wangji states, surprising Wei Wuxian into a sharp laugh.

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian says, “‘one should’, just as one should comment on the music, or the food. I should comment on the make of your suit, or perhaps ask if any young woman has caught your eye. But you see, Captain Lan, I thought we agreed on good conversation.”

“Hm,” Lan Wangji hums again. He looks as if he’s thinking something over, so Wei Wuxian allows him a moment, shuffling a bit closer in the pause. It’s best to get close to him, Wei Wuxian thinks, as Lan Wangji seems like the kind of man who likes his personal space.

“Which is most important to you,” Lan Wangji eventually says, “Family, money, or love?”

Wei Wuxian is so shocked by the question that he openly gapes at Lan Wangji, before realizing that his jaw has, in fact, dropped all the way open, and he snaps it shut again.

“Well,” Wei Wuxian says, “I honestly did not expect that, Lan Wangji! But then–isn’t the answer obvious? Family, of course.”

Lan Wangji sniffs, re-donning his proper posture, “You think everyone would choose family, then?”

“Only someone truly selfish would value money over people. And ‘love’–that’s as good as family,” Wei Wuxian explains, propping his hip against the railing to face Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji looks over at him, “What of a poor man with no family–is he selfish for valuing money?”

Wei Wuxian cautions a step closer, playing it off as shifting his weight.

“A poor man with no family,” Wei Wuxian says, “can be as selfish as he likes. What’s to say selfishness has to be a bad thing, when there’s no one to worry about but yourself?”

Lan Wangji’s nose twitches the slightest, smallest bit; he didn’t like something about that answer.

“What, you disagree?” Wei Wuxian asks, tilting his head.

Lan Wangji sniffs again, and lifts his chin, “Prizing wealth is not inherently selfish. Selfishness is always a vice, never a virtue.”

“Well, you’ve never been a poor man, have you?” Wei Wuxian scoffs, “You can afford to be snobbish about morals, but sometimes, the selfishness of a poor man is the thing that saves his life. If you were truly selfless, you would put your money to better use–hoarding it the way you Lans do is selfish, your lordship.”

Lan Wangji turns abruptly to face him, and Wei Wuxian knows he has cracked another chink in his careful facade. His expression is still seemingly neutral, but one hand has a tight hold on the railing, the other on the hilt of his sword–long fingers and chiseled muscle, Wei Wuxian notes, Lan Wangji’s knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip.

“My rank is Captain, not Lord,” Lan Wangji corrects, and then insists, “Lans use our money sparingly. We help those in need.”

“When it suits you, sure,” Wei Wuxian accuses, disregarding the comment about Lan Wangji’s officer title. He steps closer to run a finger along the embroidered lapel of Lan Wangji’s tailored jacket. “Otherwise, you spend it on silver thread and four-horse carriages.”

Lan Wangji’s jaw clenches, and Wei Wuxian warms with mean satisfaction.

“And the Jiangs?” Lan Wangji asks, composure slipping fast. “What do you know of selflessness, Wei Wuxian? What do you know of being poor?”

Wei Wuxian curls his lip, the satisfied warmth sparking into a flame of indignation.

“You know nothing, Lan Wangji,” he snarls, twisting his hand into the expensive lapel and yanking Lan Wangji closer; Lan Wangji’s eyes widen at the sudden aggression.

“What do I know of being poor?” Wei Wuxian sneers, “I know you haven’t heard all the gossip, Captain, so I’ll tell you myself of the Jiangs’ ‘little orphan ward’–lost his parents to a bandit attack at four years old, left to fend for himself ‘til he was nine. ‘Feral little orphan boy’, a bastard tramp who lived on scraps and fought with dogs for food, Lan Wangji, you know nothing.”

Lan Wangji is flushed. He’s uncouth, suddenly unraveled, and Wei Wuxian has what he wanted–though only at the expense of his own lost composure. It’s one of those moments again, where an impulse has left him aching and covered in mud.

For a beat, there is only shock on Lan Wangji’s handsome face, but it isn’t long before his own pride steps in.

“You are the one who knows nothing, Wei Wuxian,” Lan Wangji counters. His voice is low with a frozen, simmering rage–it sounds just as Wei Wuxian thought it would.

Lan Wangji is quiet but intense when he says: “You are not the only orphan in the world.”

“Do not think to compare our experiences, Captain Lan,” Wei Wuxian bites back, practically nose to nose with the infuriating man. “You grew up eating off of silver spoons and sleeping on silk sheets, and when your parents died, they left you a fortune.”

“I did not ask for that! I use my inheritance to–”

Wei Wuxian scoffs and pushes Lan Wangji away, unable to bear it any longer. Captain Lan stumbles back, catching himself against the stone railing.

“If you have an ‘inheritance’ to speak of,” Wei Wuxian says, “then you have no authority to debate my right to ‘selfishness’.”

Wei Wuxian grabs his jacket from where he had laid it on the railing, and then stalks towards the door, breathing heavily.

Before he crosses the threshold, he stops for one last word.

“I’m afraid we’ve both broken our deal, Captain, so let’s call it even,” he spits out, “I was right, there’s no decent conversation to be had at a ball, and there’s certainly no decent conversation to be had with a Lan. You have my apologies for being such an unmannered partner.

“Good night, Lan Wangji, and good riddance.”

-

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian wakes up with a crick in his neck and a dulled pain in his back. His hair is stuck wildly across his cheek, and the sheets of his bed are twisted half off the mattress. Someone is pounding at his door, and then Jinzhu barges in with little warning.

The sky is still dark through the small, half-arch window in his messy little room. This, for the fourth day in a row, is his punishment–waking before the cockcrow and doing an inordinate amount of farm work. He’d also been dealt corporeal punishment, of course, with Aunt Yu’s favored whip, but he could handle that no problem. It’s the waking up early that’s really doing him in.

Jinzhu pulls him bodily out of bed. Wei Wuxian prepares himself for this to be the day when they’ve finally had enough; Aunt Yu will barge in next, ordering that he be shipped off to the army once and for all. Thankfully, no one else comes strutting into his room. Jinzhu just shoves a set of worn, brown working clothes into his hands, and Wei Wuxian is granted an ounce of relief. No enlistment…not today, at least.

Jinzhu leaves and, once he’s blearily dressed himself, Wei Wuxian follows out to the gardens. It’s a bleak day, dark gray clouds above and a chill in the air around. Wei Wuxian prays he can manage to get the work done before the rain hits.

Rocks crunch into the dirt path beneath his worn boots. The familiar, lofty ting of fertilizer fills his nose, and in the distance, the animals bleat and snort and squawk. Wei Wuxian blinks, eyes swollen with sleep; they sting in the cool morning breeze. He breathes.

Right–time for work.

He starts with the chickens, collecting the eggs, and then passing them off to Yinzhu. Then, he cleans out the coup and tosses out fresh feed. In the interest of compounding Wei Wuxian’s workload, Aunt Yu had let Jiang Cheng off of his duties, so Wei Wuxian is left to handle the pigs, as well, watering and feeding them. He sees to the stables, brushing the horses and shoveling manure, and then to the goats, milking and feeding and cleaning them.

Jinzhu and Yinzhu have been instructed to leave everything to him, and by the time he finishes all the morning chores about the livestock–meant for two or more sets of hands–his whole body shakes with exertion, his back aching. It’s well past dawn now, but the sky is still dark and muddled with storm clouds.

Aunt Yu struck him eleven times the morning after the ball, one for every “profligate” dance, and he’d been bedridden for three days afterwards. Aunt Yu had tried to insist on enlisting him as soon as he’d been able to stand again, but Uncle Jiang wouldn’t hear of it, and the result was a household that has spent the last week in a very tense limbo, with Wei Wuxian’s actions at the very center.

Any morning could be his last, here. At this point, he’s starting to think it might be better to just get on with it, rather than ruminating in this constricting household, but…no. As long as he can help it, Wei Wuxian won’t leave his cousins behind.

The rain, at least, seems to be on Wei Wuxian’s side, and he’s mercifully dry when he finally returns to the house. He changes clothes, applying a blessed salve–contraband courtesy of Jiang Yanli–as best he can, though most of the wounds are too far out of reach. The scars are no matter–his back was already torn up enough that these new wounds hardly make a difference–but the pain is nearly unbearable.

He’ll have to ask Jiang Cheng to help him later. Though Jiang Cheng has taken an outward stance that it’s all Wei Wuxian’s own fault, he does have some sympathy for his poor, beaten cousin. Especially since Aunt Yu shoved Jiang Cheng’s duties onto Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng has been going out of his way to make things easier for Wei Wuxian, when he can. He had snuck in extra food during Wei Wuxian’s three days of bedrest, applied the salve, and helped him change and wash during the worst of it.

Jiang Cheng had also tried, once, to wake up before Jinzhu and Yinzhu and carry out some of the farmwork, but the maidservants watched Wei Wuxian so carefully during the day that they noticed things had already been done almost immediately. Still, Wei Wuxian appreciates the thought, and it's always nice to reconfirm that his cousin isn’t quite so brash as he wants to appear.

Back in the dining room, most of the family has already sat down to eat. Wei Wuxian gingerly takes the open seat at the end, furthest from Aunt Yu. Yanli gives him a sympathetic smile, Uncle Jiang a nod, and Jiang Cheng slides over a pre-made plate of fried eggs and toast. Aunt Yu is still pretending he doesn’t exist.

“Good morning,” Wei Wuxian cautions.

Jiang Yanli brightens, “Good morning, A-Xian. How fares the livestock?”

The question is well-intentioned, so Wei Wuxian manages to hide his grimace under a somewhat honest smile.

“Doing well,” he says, “though it’s pretty gloomy out there. We’ll probably see quite the storm later.”

Yanli hums, “Well, it’s good that it held off until–”

“Excuse me,” Yinzhu enters the dining room, “the mail has arrived.”

She steps around the table to pass the letters around; a few to Uncle Jiang, one to Jiang Cheng from Nie Huaisang, and then a hefty stack to Aunt Yu. One of the letters in Aunt Yu’s stack bears a heavy resemblance to the letter Jiang Cheng received, and when Wei Wuxian stretches slightly to read the front, it is indeed addressed to him. Another part of his punishment, he supposes, though it’s far from the first time she’s withheld Wei Wuxian’s letters. Who knows how much he’s missed in the last weeks, cut off from the wider world this way.

A final envelope, distinguished by its clear expense–heavy paper, a golden wax seal–goes to Jiang Yanli, and everyone at the table watches her curiously. (Save Uncle Jiang, that is, who’s already immersed in his own correspondence.) Yanli cracks the seal and extracts an elegantly written note.

“Ah!” she gasps suddenly, making Wei Wuxian startle in his seat, “It’s from Jin Xifeng–I’ve been invited to take tea at Koi Manor, this very afternoon!”

Aunt Yu lifts her chin, a slyly pleased smile gracing her face. “Finally,” she says.

“Who’s Jin Xifeng?” Jiang Cheng asks, gesturing with the half-eaten toast in his hand.

Without thinking, Wei Wuxian tuts and reaches out to smack his shoulder, “Don’t talk with food in your mouth, A-Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng flushes, brow tightening, and hits Wei Wuxian’s arm with the back of his free hand. “Since when do you care about propriety?”

“I don’t know what you mean, dear cousin! Aren’t I always the very image of a gentleman?”

“Compared to the pigs, maybe…”

“Boys!” Uncle Jiang reprimands shortly, and then looks back down at his own letters, paying them no more mind. Aunt Yu is scowling, seemingly torn between scolding him or continuing to pretend Wei Wuxian isn’t there at all. She must decide Yanli’s romantic developments are more worth her time, as her gaze never travels near him, and her frown pointedly fades to something more contemplative.

If anything, it makes Wei Wuxian relax more, pleased with the sense of normalcy. Jiang Cheng hadn’t dared cross the icy atmosphere in the days just after the ball, but with Yanli’s invitation to focus on, it seems they’ve finally begun to thaw. And Aunt Yu’s willful ignorance…well, that’s nothing new.

Wei Wuxian nabs a piece of toast from Jiang Cheng’s plate and takes a bite, delighting in the glare Jiang Cheng sends him. Chewing exaggeratedly with his mouth open, he copies Jiang Cheng’s question; “Who’s Jin Xifeng, Yanli?”

Jiang Yanli must be truly excited by the letter, because she doesn’t admonish him or Jiang Cheng for their manners.

“She’s a cousin of Lord Jin,” Yanli explains, eyes darting rapidly across the page for a second time, “part of his entourage at the ball last week! We were friendly, then. She’s staying at Koi Manor with him, and it seems we’ll all have tea together!”

Pompous as he thinks the Jin are, Wei Wuxian is taken by Yanli’s infectious energy, and he finishes his bite to smile brightly.

“Well, you’d better hurry then, to make it all that way by tea time! We all know how infatuated Lord Jin was with you, this must be his doing! He was probably just too shy to invite you himself!”

Jiang Cheng nods eagerly, and then turns to Aunt Yu, “We should prepare the carriage!”

“No,” Aunt Yu silences him, “she’ll go on horseback.”

Before he can think better of it, Wei Wuxian cuts in, “But it’s going to rain! She should take the…”

The sneer Aunt Yu directs at him is one of her nastiest, and he falls silent, averting his eyes.

“She’ll go on horseback,” Aunt Yu repeats. “Go on, Yanli, what are you waiting for? Wear the lilac dress, girl, and let Jinzhu string your corset!”

-

The skies open with torrential rains hardly thirty minutes after Jiang Yanli leaves for Koi Manor, and for the life of him, Wei Wuxian can’t understand Aunt Yu’s decision. Yanli will be drenched by the time she arrives. Anyone would catch a cold in that weather, but with Yanli’s disposition, it’ll be a miracle if she doesn’t fall sick and wind up stuck at Koi Manor for…

Oh.

Wow, that’s…truly devious. Aunt Yu has never been the most sentimental parent, but that…the ends justify the means, it seems.

The rain, coupled with the distraction of the day, spares Wei Wuxian from anymore chores, and once Aunt Yu is settled in the drawing room with a book, Jiang Cheng finds his way to Wei Wuxian’s room.

Unexpectedly, he holds out a letter. Wei Wuxian strips off his shirt, arranging himself on the bed, and then accepts and reads the letter as Jiang Cheng helps him apply the salve to his dully aching back.

It’s from Nie Huaisang.

Dearest Wuxian, it reads.

I’ve been forced to resort to espionage, as Jiang Cheng informs me your letters are being withheld. Oh, the horror of such a punishment! What a pair you and Madam Yu make! It’s a wonder you have survived past childhood, with your rebellious ways and her ruthless nature. I feel for you, my friend! Truly! Deeply! Ah! I can’t even imagine!

I’m sure Wanyin has already done it, so I’ll restrain myself from mentioning that you did act quite outrageously at the ball. It wasn’t enough for you to dance with half the room, you also had to sneak off and anger Captain Lan? Captain Lan, a force in his own right, but also a close friend of the very rich, very powerful lord on whom your cousin had her sights set! Indeed, what a scoundrel you are!

Ah–I’ve forgotten to restrain myself. Well, it all comes from a place of admiration, I assure you!

Anyway, as best I can tell, Captain Lan hasn’t blabbed yet. Half the town knows something happened, but only us truly wily ones have worked out that you two had some kind of argument. You simply must give me the details, I am dying to know what happened! Sneak a response into Wanyin’s next letter, and don’t leave out a single thing! Otherwise, I’ll be forced to assume that my own imaginings are the true turn of events–a secret plot? A crossing of swords, perhaps?

You know how my mind runs, Wuxian–please, put me out of my misery! Tell! Me! The! Gossip!!!

In other news (which I’ve explained to Wanyin, as well, but I doubt he’ll pass it on), Master Yin was apparently caught with Madam Li, and…

Wei Wuxian skims the rest, not having much interest in town proceedings that don’t concern anyone he knows personally.

To be reminded of Captain Lan, though…

In the whirlwind of his punishment, on top of Jiang Yanli’s own quandary, Wei Wuxian had nearly forgotten about his encounter with Lan Wangji.

Or, rather, he’d successfully forced himself to stop thinking about it.

During his fevered days of bedrest, back stinging with every breath, Wei Wuxian had spent hours ruminating on their conversation, ringing it out for all the satisfaction and bitterness it could conjure. He oscillated between being angry at the man and being quite taken with his amusing reactions. Wei Wuxian wanted to prod the bear again, so to speak, to see what kind of response he could garner, to see if he could break that stony facade once more. He’s always been one to step headlong into danger, afterall.

It was no surprise that Lan Wangji hadn’t told anyone what happened, given that it was quite an embarrassing story for him. No matter the content of their exchange, Wei Wuxian had gotten the renowned, icy captain to crack–of course Lan Wangji wouldn’t want anyone else to know.

At the same time, an equal part of Wei Wuxian never wanted to see the man again in his lifetime. Lan Wangji was truly arrogant, truly oblivious to the reality of the world he lived in. Wei Wuxian would bet Lan Wangji had never suffered a true hardship in his life.

What a pretentious man he was! Yes, Wei Wuxian would be better off never seeing him again.

Although…

“There,” Jiang Cheng declares, breaking Wei Wuxian from his stupor. This was why he hadn’t thought of Lan Wangji for days–the man had the uncanny ability to run away with Wei Wuxian’s mind, his mere memory inspiring contention, and confusion, and…shit, there he goes again!

“All done,” Jiang Cheng says, wiping his hands on a nearby towel.

Wei Wuxian shifts, setting aside Nie Huaisang’s letter and any remaining thoughts of Lan Wangji, focusing instead on the relief of pain in his back.

He turns to Jiang Cheng with an earnest expression, “Thank you, Jiang Cheng, really.”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, turning an amusing shade of red, “it’s not a big deal.”

The best way to genuinely thank his cousin, Wei Wuxian knows, is to let him get away with kindness without bringing it up, so he changes the topic.

“Do you think Yanli is okay?”

Jiang Cheng huffs, slumping onto the bed beside Wei Wuxian, “Okay? She just rode on horseback to a manor on the other side of the lake in the middle of a storm! Mother has truly gone crazy, putting her in danger like that.”

“She’ll have to stay there for the night,” Wei Wuxian comments, “that must’ve been Aunt Yu’s goal.”

“So?” Jiang Cheng scoffs, “Is an engagement really worth her health?”

Wei Wuxian looks out his small window, where the gray skies have grown darker in the late hour.

“I don’t think so, of course, nothing is worth her health,” he says, feeling suddenly maudlin, “but you know, with women, they don’t have that much of a choice. I might think Jin Zixuan is an asshole, and I might think Aunt Yu is heartless to do what she’s done, but a marriage to Jin Zixuan will award Yanli a good life. Better than most.”

“She has a good life here,” Jiang Cheng protests.

“And so do I,” Wei Wuxian insists, “but we can’t stay forever.”

Jiang Cheng stands abruptly, putting his back to Wei Wuxian, “Who says?”

Wei Wuxian chuckles, surprised by how bitter it sounds. “Come on, A-Cheng, don’t make me be the reasonable one. At least Yanli seems to like Lord Jin, and I think, someday, I can be satisfied with the military.”

Jiang Cheng whips around, arms crossed, “Mother isn’t going to ship you off! Father won’t let her!”

Wei Wuxian just smiles sadly, the exhaustion of the day catching up to him as the salve numbs his back.

“Come on, A-Cheng,” he says again, “It’s a matter of when, not if, for me…”

Jiang Cheng stays quiet, brooding.

Eventually, he says, “Fine, if you’re so determined to give up. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

And he stomps out, closing the door behind him.

-

The next morning brings a cold wind, but no more rain. The mail reaches them at the same time as before.

Jiang Cheng is still emitting a perimeter of annoyance, so without Jiang Yanli at the table to mediate, Wei Wuxian is back to the silence of a few days past. It’s a shame that any progress he made yesterday has been thoroughly repealed. He aches from a morning of farmwork once again, but the pain fades to an afterthought when Aunt Yu suddenly reads a missive from Koi Manor aloud:

“On account of her falling ill, Lord Jin informs the Jiang family that Jiang Yanli will stay at Koi Manor until she has fully recovered.”

With a contented sigh, Aunt Yu primly folds the letter and returns to her crumpet.

-

Wei Wuxian does consider being strategic about his rescue mission–really, he does consider it, if only for like, a minute–but the astounded anger growing in his veins at Aunt Yu’s flippancy pushes him to set out towards Koi Manor at the first opportunity. It’s one thing for Aunt Yu to ignore Wei Wuxian–to set him extra chores, to withhold his letters, to plainly neglect him–but to intentionally endanger her own daughter?

Wei Wuxian lets the frustration and disbelief fuel him. When he goes out to tend to the horses after breakfast, he instead saddles the mare and takes off towards the ugly, gaudy manor across town.

The rain has left behind mounds of mud, but in his haste to reach Yanli Wei Wuxian pays no mind to the splashes and specks of wet dirt gathering on the cinched hems of his work pants, roused up by the mare’s hooves. He pays no mind to the wind whipping stray hairs from his ponytail and ruffling the collar of his second-hand undershirt. Nor does he spare a thought for the raggedy nature of his vest, a faded maroon with stray gold threads of once-embroidery–neither to the lack of a jacket entirely.

His thoughts are consumed instead by Yanli’s health, and the path around town that will get him to Koi Manor the fastest. Even spurring the horse on, the manor is still a good distance away. By the time he arrives at the outer gates of the Jin’s property, the sky has already begun to darken.

At the sight, Wei Wuxian finally pauses long enough to think about the state of himself–rather rough, even he can admit. In his exuberance to reach Yanli, he seems to have forgotten that his appearance may well reflect on her’s–and it is quite a haggard appearance indeed.

It’s too late to turn back, though. There are servants stationed along the gate, now that the manor is occupied by such high society figures, and they moved to welcome him the moment he came into view.

He must be an odd sight, certainly. What must they think of a young man, clearly trained to ride, on a well-bred mare with a high quality saddle, but practically dressed in rags compared to the wardrobe of the Jin.

“Hello,” Wei Wuxian greets, trying to gain any bit of respect he can from them with friendliness. He skillfully dismounts, and falls quickly into a proper bow. “I’m Wei Wuxian, here to see to the health of my cousin, Jiang Yanli!”

Even if they don’t recognize the ward of a local family by sight, the Jin servants must have been informed about the Jiang family, as they give him no trouble. One of the servants takes the mare, while another gestures towards the house with much pomp and derision, not even trying to mask the judgment in his eyes as they travel up and down Wei Wuxian’s figure.

“Difficult weather, huh?” Wei Wuxian jokes, attempting to diffuse the tension, but the servant doesn’t seem to have the patience for him, and ignores the remark entirely.

Jin servants can get away with that sort of thing. It must be obvious that despite his position as a ward, Wei Wuxian is of a similar social status, perhaps even below them. A servant to a wealthy family is better than a servant to a poor one, after all.

Wei Wuxian has never been bothered about social status, however, and frankly, he doesn’t give a shit about the judgment of a Jin. As long as they take him to Yanli, they can look and scoff as oft as they like.

The driveway is unnecessarily long, and the manor only seems more imposing as they approach the front gate. Another servant of the many lining the entrance–seriously, what obscene number of staff do the Jin really need to travel with?–presents Wei Wuxian with a towel. He wipes off his shoes and hems under the close scrutiny of the servants, and finally, they open the doors and direct him inside.

“The Young Master will please wait here,” the servant instructs, before bustling off further into the house and leaving Wei Wuxian alone in the grand foyer.

It’s large and ornate, as expected, but after the hustle of trying to reach Yanli, and the bustle of the servants placed every three feet, the emptiness of the foyer is the most imposing thing. Wei Wuxian’s ears ring in the sudden lack of wind or voice, and even his breaths seem to be absorbed by the lux carpet beneath his dirty boots. Despite the rag the servants had given him, the soles of his shoes still leave flecks of drying mud on the cream-colored, probably hand-woven, rug.

Hopefully the Jin won’t make him pay for it. To them, the cost to clean the rug is probably so insignificant that they won’t care. Then again, the pettiness of every Jin he’s met so far speaks to a stinginess and desire to collect on every debt possible.

Contrary to common opinion, Wei Wuxian does have a conscientious cell in his brain. Sure, he may not have thought his actions through entirely in his haste to reach his ailing cousin, but now that he’s arrived, he recognizes that the Jiangs do have an interest in their reputation before the Jin, and he recognizes that his own actions reflect on that reputation.

There’s little to do about the fact that he arrived here uninvited, nor about the concrete state of his outfit, but the wrinkles can be smoothed and the layers straightened. Wei Wuxian rolls the hems of his pants as neatly as he can, to hide the mud and the cinched worker’s cut. He takes off his vest to pull the straps of his suspenders properly over his shoulders–rather than the loose-around-the-hips style he typically favors–and tightens them until the constriction stiffens the wrinkles around the waist of his pants.

He’s flipped the unstarched collar of Jiang Cheng’s old undershirt and is halfway through doing up the tarnished brass buttons of his vest when the door begins to open.

Hastily, Wei Wuxian abandons the top two buttons in favor of turning the popped collar and tucking the stray pieces of hair behind his ears. All of this, however, is done in vain as the figure who steps into the room is not a Jin nor a servant, but Captain Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian freezes, hands awkwardly suspended by his head.

Captain Lan Wangji, who Wei Wuxian had known was staying with the Jin but whose presence was so abrasive that he had determined to ignore the fact entirely. The Captain’s eyes roam freely, judging, up and down Wei Wuxian’s person. His nose twitches, and his lips curl into the slightest of sneers.

“Wei Wuxian,” he says, greeting with the barest hint of a bow. His suit, though not as ornate as the one he wore to the ball, nor decorated with so many accolades, is still shining and starched. His sword hangs by his side, though what he could possibly need it for, Wei Wuxian hasn’t a clue.

“Aha, hello,” Wei Wuxian chuckles anxiously, lowering his hands to brush over his front, and then to button the rest of his vest. Lan Wangji watches his fingers, and then glances over his arms, covered only by his undershirt.

Indeed, considering that they met while Wei Wuxian was wearing the most quality suit he’d ever owned, his clothes now must look rather insane.

“I’m here to inquire about my cousin,” Wei Wuxian explains when Lan Wangji stays silent, returning the shallow bow. “I was told to wait here.”

Lan Wangji simply nods, eyeing his attire once again.

“Has something happened on your journey?” Lan Wangji questions cryptically.

Goodness. What conclusion has this stuffy man come to? That the only way someone might be dressed this way is if he were, what–attacked on his way?

Wei Wuxian nearly scoffs aloud–what a sheltered young noble indeed. He wants to retaliate, but some part of his mind reminds him to stay civil; reputation, and all that. Best to pretend their affair at the ball had been no more than a stately conversation.

“No, it was well, thank you,” Wei Wuxian offers politely, “if the Captain is wondering about my clothes, the explanation is simply that I was working the fields this morning, and hadn’t the time to clean up before the news arrived. My cousin's health took priority over appearance, you understand?”

Lan Wangji once again answered with silence, glaring down at Wei Wuxian’s boots.

“You are getting mud on the carpet,” he says sharply, “if I may offer counsel, it would be best if Young Master Wei exercised more caution with his attire, especially in the presence of nobility.”

This time, the scoff escapes. Captain Lan is just like Aunt Yu–clean up, you dirty boy! You unmannered tramp!

“I might counsel the Captain in return,” Wei Wuxian sneers, stepping forward and pressing his boots into the carpet with unnecessary force, “that he should go outside once in a while. There, he might learn what mud is, and that it’s rather difficult to avoid.”

Wei Wuxian steps back again, revealing the clear, dark footprint his boot has left behind. He enunciates with great condescension, as if talking to a particularly irritating toddler, “Of course, it is not a young noble’s fault that he has been carried everywhere all his life, never stooping so low as to touch grass.”

Lan Wangji’s eyebrows furrow, posture lengthening and hand falling to clasp the hilt of his sword.

“In turn, I counsel Young Master Wei to be mindful of his words. One does not become a Captain without seeing war.”

“You have seen no war,” Wei Wuxian speaks without thinking, too irritated to cool down this rapid escalation. “You have seen war offices and war orders, mailed off to the front for soldiers to follow into death.”

“You speak on matters you do not understand,” Lan Wangji counters, a bite of irritation finally bleeding into his annoyingly tempered tone, knuckles white around his sword. “Though perhaps it is unfair of me to expect otherwise from one who has only known the shelter of his peaceful village; I cannot fault you for your ignorance.”

“Ignorance,” Wei Wuxian asserts hotly, “is not exclusive to ‘commoners’. War is not the only form of conflict, Captain–”

The door creaks open once more.

Wei Wuxian stumbles backwards, smoothing hands through his hair. His final word to Lan Wangji–who has rolled his shoulders and pulled on a mask of indifference once more–is a glare across the room.

A servant enters, gaze flickering between the two.

“Captain Lan,” the servant acknowledges with a proper bow, then turns to Wei Wuxian, “Master Wei, if you would follow me.”

Wei Wuxian plasters on his most charming grin, “Of course. Captain Lan, a pleasure to run into you again. I look most forward to another engaging conversation.”

Lan Wangji’s mouth tightens. With a straight face, he responds, “Indeed,” and then to the servant, “please provide our guest with some refreshed clothing.”

“Of course, Captain. This way,” the servant gestures again, and Wei Wuxian follows, a trail of muddy, raging footprints left behind him.

-

To their credit, the Jin have put Yanli up in a very nice room. She’s practically drowning in the rosy pink blankets piled around her, framed by the gold-threaded curtains that hang from the four-poster frame of the bed.

Her cheeks are flushed darker than the blankets, and the hair around her forehead is stuck flat with sweat and water from the cooling rag a nurse is dabbing gently about her face. She appears ill, but well-tended, and Wei Wuxian reluctantly considers an ounce of forgiveness towards Jin Zixuan.

(He does not forgive any Jin for this gaudy suit he’s been forced into. Not wanting to give him anything too nice, but too fastidious to give him a servant’s uniform, Wei Wuxian is now dressed in an old Jin statesman garb. Garrishly yellow, too small around the shoulders, and too large around the waist, it is Captain Lan’s greatest revenge.)

It matters not when Yanli is suddenly in front of him, however, and any self-consciousness disappears the moment Wei Wuxian reaches her bedside.

“A-Xian?” Jiang Yanli blinks at him weakly, confused, and then lights up, “A-Xian! You’re here! Goodness, you must have raced across town to arrive so quickly.”

“Yanli! How are you? Have they been treating you well?” He hurries to ask, situating himself with some semblance of propriety on a chair left near the bed. The nurse and surrounding attendants startle at his exuberance, but Wei Wuxian can’t be bothered with their opinion.

“I’m just fine, A-Xian, recovering quickly, under the careful care of these diligent nursemaids.”

Said nursemaids appear much more taken with Jiang Yanli, and they give her pleasant smiles, finally stepping away to give the cousins a moment.

“Really, you needn’t have come,” Jiang Yanli soothes, “it’s only a little cold, I’ll be–”

Her eyes flick down, and she cuts herself off with a sudden giggle, eyes crinkling with mirth.

“A-Xian,” Yanli laughs, “what are you wearing?”

“Isn’t it awful?” Wei Wuxian whispers, too quiet for the nursemaids to hear across the room. “I muddied up my other clothes so bad that the servants hardly let me inside. I’ll admit this suit is more comfortable than wet, muddy hand-me-downs, but it’s so ugly, isn’t it, Yanli, isn’t it?”

She smiles at him. “Well, I think you manage to pull it off. In fact, yellow makes you look quite dashing.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Wei Wuxian pouts, “I’ve come all this way to see you.”

“I’m not teasing! Truly, A-Xian is handsome enough to pass for royalty. The night of the ball, honestly, you could have charmed any woman there. It’s a shame Mother keeps you clothed in such rags. If only she–”

“Ah, don’t worry about that,” Wei Wuxian waves off, “I just get everything I wear dirty in the fields, so it’s better that I don’t waste too much money on clothes.”

Yanli looks contrite at the answer, but they’ve had this conversation before–they both know talking about it will make no difference.

Artfully, Jiang Yanli changes the topic.

“A-Xian…thank you for coming. Just seeing your face makes me feel better already.”

“Good,” Wei Wuxian asserts, taking the flattery with inflated grace. “I’d ride anywhere and wear anything if it made my Yanli feel better.”

Yanli’s face softens further, “I know you would. You’re too good, A-Xian.”

“Even that bothersome Lan–I’d quarrel with him a thousand times if it meant seeing you recovered.”

Jiang Yanli’s eyes narrow, “Bringing up Captain Lan, again? Tell me you haven’t run into him already–you only just got here!”

“He ran into me, more like!” Wei Wuxian defends. “I was waiting in the foyer, just like I was told–very obediently–and he waltzed into the room and practically called me a slob! ‘I advise Wei Wuxian to dress better,’ he said, really, Yanli, straight to my face, he said, ‘poor, dirty, ignorant farm boy,’!”

Jiang Yanli tuts, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear, “Really, A-Xian, I doubt he was so derisive. Your story of the night of the ball…there must have been some misunderstanding. Captain Lan was the perfect gentleman last night at dinner.”

“You don’t know, Yanli, he may look well-behaved, but beneath that pretty face–”

“In fact,” Jiang Yanli interrupts pointedly, “he was the one who first insisted I receive treatment. He was very concerned that I rest and take care of myself.”

“Well, that’s just…” Wei Wuxian grapples, annoyed that such a dastardly man is apparently capable of compassion.

Jiang Yanli strokes a gentle, comforting hand over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, “I think you should give him a second chance, A-Xian. I’m not forgiving anything offensive he’s said to you, and if he truly is contemptuous of you for your appearance or social position, then I’ll talk some sense into him myself, but…you ought to give it a try. Everyone here speaks highly of him, and from my own experience, he’s as upright as a gentleman can be.”

She glances carefully at the nursemaids, but they remain occupied on the other side of the room, not paying attention to their conversation.

“Honestly,” Yanli dares to comment, “I think he would benefit from a friend. Jin Xifeng tells me that he’s a somewhat lonely man.”

Loathe be for Wei Wuxian to deny his cousin anything.

“Fine,” he concedes, “one more chance! But if he says anything obnoxious, I get to punch him.”

Yanli gives him a look, “No punching of noblemen who are kindly hosting us.”

“Just a little kick?” Wei Wuxian tilts his head, pouting hopefully, “On the shin?”

Yanli purses her lips.

“Fine!” Wei Wuxian concedes again, “I promise to be just as civil as he is.”

Jiang Yanli smiles, pleased, “That’s all I ask. Soon enough, I will be rested and recovered, and we can return home together.”

At that moment, the nurse returns to her side.

“If you want to recover, you need rest,” she looks suspiciously at Wei Wuxian, “I think you’ve had enough excitement for now.”

When he hesitates, the nurse assures him, “She’s well enough to join the table for dinner–you may see her then.”

And a servant appears to herd him out the door once more.

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