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Chapter Text

You wished you hadn’t half-assed your cultivation studies. 

In your defense, your cozy life as the offspring of well-to-do merchants had nothing to do with cultivation. As the only one in your family to have developed a golden core, weak and fledgling though it was, you were abruptly saddled with the task of protecting the whole compound while your parents and a handful of servants ran to entreat the help of a proper cultivator. As residents of Yunmeng, it was an act of immense courage to make a request of the Jiang sect, considering the sect leader’s infamous temper, but there wasn’t much else that could be done in the late hours of the night and with no other cultivators around. 

Well—no cultivators other than you, who’d had a cultivation phase at just the right age to form a golden core and do nothing else with it. Dabbling in cultivation readings wasn’t quite enough to handle more than what you found yourself stuck with tonight. 

The infestation of fierce corpses wasn’t exactly… well… fierce, but there were so many of them, and they kept bumping into very delicate merchandise that would set your work and finances back by months, if not years. Nobody had a clue how they got into the building; the guards’ memories had seemingly lapsed during the exact moments of the intrusion, and all the information you were privy to was bestowed when a frantic servant came knocking at your chambers. With little explanation, she begged you to round the corpses up and, quote, “Dust the damn things, or whatever it’s called!” 

It was technically called “elimination,” and you did not know how to do that. At best, your hastily scribbled talismans on scrap paper could gather them into a common area away from the merchandise, at which point you floundered over whether to attempt to suppress them. Ultimately, you decided to hold out until help arrived, smacking fresh talismans onto any corpse that started to wander out of the hobbling bunch and coaxing them into their circle with a little boost of yin energy. The foul smell and drooping rot of their skin made you cringe, covering your nose with your hand as you kept a wary eye on them. 

By the time you heard a commotion outside, your sparse spiritual energy was beginning to fizzle out, and the close presence of the corpses’ decay and resentment was making your head spin. The door to the compound slammed open, and you jumped, heart racing as you wondered if it was actually a higher level corpse ready to cause more havoc, or if it was the one who let the others in—

Ah, nope, that was a very handsome cultivator storming into the room, and you were very much not in a state of proper attire to receive him. His robes swept regally as he scowled at the room of bumbling corpses, sparing you half a glance before producing a whip sparking with purple lightning out of thin air. With a flourish, his whip bound the squirming corpses and rendered them immobile. The fierce corpses released a comical groan all at once, and you had to smack your hand over your mouth to suppress a delirious giggle. Apparently the spirit of annoyance could persist after death, given enough inconvenience. 

The cultivator swiveled his head to glare at you—though honestly it seemed like that was just his resting expression—and immediately turned back to face the corpses when he saw that you were clad only in your billowy inner robes. “Who the hell are you?” he snapped. 

Your eyes wandered over his outfit, finally having a peaceful moment to realize that this was a sect leader in your home. The sect leader, in fact. A leader of one of the four major sects, whose electric whip was an icon to cultivators and non-cultivators alike. 

Why would the notoriously antisocial leader of Yunmeng Jiang come to deal with a handful of low-level corpses?

You hastened into a bow, hands cupped respectfully. “Jiang-zongzhu,” you greeted, feeling frazzled even though he wasn’t looking at you. “This is my house?” 

Jiang Wanyin cut you a glance, his glare settling into a frown. “You’re those merchants’ daughter?” 

Straightening up, you nodded in confirmation and gathered every bit of social skills drilled into you as the company heir. “We’re terribly sorry to bother you, especially at this hour. We’ll compensate you as needed.” Then, because your brain-to-mouth filter hadn’t been rebooted since your rude awakening, you added, “Um, but this really wasn’t a huge incident, so why didn’t you send a disciple or something?” 

The cultivator blinked, bemusement twisting his unfairly handsome face. “I wish I could’ve,” he muttered, approaching the bundle of fierce corpses to study them. “There’s a multi-sect night hunt this evening, and I thought it’d be nice to hand the reins over to someone else for once. Hell of a lot of good that did for me.” 

You shifted awkwardly. “Sorry…” 

He waved you off. “Shut it, this is my job.” Somehow, you didn’t feel offended by his snappish words. His tone didn’t hold any real heat, his concentration on the fierce corpses as he stalked around them in a tight circle. 

“I’ll be taking these back to my sect,” he announced. Jiang Wanyin turned to you, mouth open to continue, then quickly looked away again, his scowl returning along with a red tint in his cheeks. You covered your chest self-consciously, though your robes weren’t revealing any skin. “I’ll send disciples in the morning for an investigation.” 

Herding the corpses toward the open doorway, Jiang Wanyin paused. You had shuffled backwards to keep out of his way, but when he didn’t hasten to leave, you tilted your head at him curiously. 

His eyes darted around, refusing to settle directly on you. It was kind of cute. “You can use spiritual energy,” he said gruffly. 

Refusing to ask the question outright… also kind of cute. He would probably smash your head into a wall if you said that out loud. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed, blaming the late hour for the urge to talk with him more. “I formed my core when I was a kid, but I didn’t have any grand ambitions of becoming a cultivator or anything. I study sometimes, but that’s about it.” 

The sect leader’s brow wrinkled, finally meeting your eyes. “You developed a golden core,” he said, voice dripping with disbelief, “for shits and giggles?” 

You couldn’t help it. You burst into a fit of laughter, cheeks aching with your grin while Jiang Wanyin’s face flushed darker, glaring more vehemently as if that would distract you from his blush. Too cute!  

“I guess when you put it that way…” you said when you could breathe again. “But, if it helps just a bit when I really need it, I think it was worth the effort.” 

He stared at you for long enough that you started to fidget, unused to such intense attention. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he wordlessly turned ahead and whisked the gaggle of corpses out of the compound. 

You ambled after him, not in a hurry to follow the pungent scent of the corpses, so you allowed the cultivator to leave without another attempt at conversation. Some servants were flitting around your showrooms, checking for damaged goods, and you wandered about until you met your parents outside. They pulled you into a relieved embrace that you squirmed out of after a few seconds, and the three of you watched Jiang Wanyin marching the group of fierce corpses down the dark street like a bunch of reprimanded children. The flickering purple light of the electric whip illuminated the street as the sect leader retreated, and you didn’t realize the fond smile lingering on your lips until you felt a hand land on your shoulder. 

Turning to face your mother, your smile dropped when you saw the knowing glint in her eyes. 

“So,” she said nonchalantly, “I heard you laughing with Sect Leader Jiang a few minutes ago.” 

Oh no.

Chapter Text

Despite being raised for it, you weren’t expected to take on the full brunt of your family’s company unless you wanted to. There were a handful of branches to the business, run by your extended family, and any of your cousins would be happy to take over upon your parents’ retirement. And admittedly, you didn’t feel compelled to shoulder the responsibility of a whole merchant company and all its subsidiaries. Perhaps your parents were too lenient on you, but it suited your lifestyle just fine. 

“Free-spirited” wasn’t quite the word for what you were. You dabbled in whatever skills your whims prompted of you, learning a bit of cultivation here, a bit of veterinary studies there, some music on the side, gardening when the weather was nice, and so forth; your only official task was to oversee the general operations of the merchandise when your parents were out on business trips. You were well acquainted with the people of the local area—friends with many—but you were resented by a shameless handful as well. Some called you spoiled, and others called you useless for remaining stubbornly unmarried and childfree, but you paid the gossip no mind. Despite your thirties fast approaching, you liked your life, aimless as it was. 

One thing you had attached yourself to with any consistency was writing. Under a pseudonym and with all the resources of your well-connected family, you distributed stories and poems of a variety of genres, garnering some attention from the literary community within your region and a little ways beyond. You didn’t label yourself as a professional by any means, and you sold your works for cheap, since you really just did it for fun. 

Mostly the porn. Especially the porn. 

When you had hit puberty and been inundated with pressure to start browsing your options for a future spouse, you went through a particular phase that you lovingly labeled the “Why the fuck are people interested in sex?” phase. For several years, you studiously read romance novels, stared quizzically at pornographic art, gossiped with your friends, and went on a handful of less-than-interesting dates with boys your age from other somewhat high-ranking families. None of these things brought you much closer to an answer. 

What did help, however, was trying your hand at writing about it. Somehow (really, somehow, because the reason still eluded you), when you’d tossed some sexual ramblings into one of your short stories, you gained a wealthy (and also anonymous) benefactor who requested the rights to distribute any further erotica you chose to produce. With the proposal letter came a bunch of proffered pornographic art as part of his negotiation. He—who used the pseudonym Songbird, and was quite taken with your chosen pseudonym of The Cat Curiosity Killed—also sent some requests with a hefty cash offer, and thus your questionable writing career took off. 

Coincidentally, Songbird was in the area around the time of your incident with the horde of fierce corpses. He had sent a letter a few weeks prior, and you were scheduled to meet with him two days after your estate was cleared of resentful energy by Jiang disciples. You had met in person a few times for business reasons, both wearing masks and plain robes to conceal your identities. But you honestly really liked Songbird, and you exchanged casual letters frequently enough that you considered him a friend. 

“Ooh, is that a new mask I spy?” Songbird asked enthusiastically as you took your seat across from him in the tea house. He was clad in muted green robes and his favored kitsune mask imported from Dongying, and you wore a classic theater mask imbued with complex shading and intricate patterns within the half-smiling, half-frowning sides of its face. “Did you make it yourself?” 

“No,” you sighed, placing down your satchel full of new material you’d written over the past month. “I’m no good with delicate paintwork. It’s fun to try, but nothing wearable.” 

You could sense Songbird’s smile from behind his mask, his fan fluttering over the faux snout covering his mouth. He had disclosed a long time ago that he painted fans as a hobby, and though his mask rarely changed, you took notice of every new fan he donned every time you met. Today you complimented the marvelous landscape adorning the deep blue fabric of his fan, and he preened at the attention. 

“It’s good to see you again,” you commented, nudging away the obligatory cup of tea that had been placed in preparation for your arrival. It may do better feeding the nearby plants on your way out. “You seem less stressed.” 

Songbird laughed airily, snapping his fan shut and tapping it against the top edge of his mask. “I’m sorry for dropping off so many times in our correspondence. Some personal things kept coming up. I really don’t know. But everything’s dealt with, so no need to worry!” 

Starting a handful of years ago, there were times when Songbird seemed to drop off the map, though his business kept running smoothly. It was custom in the more anonymous markets to avoid personal questions, so in light of this assurance, you simply nodded and stored the sight of the golden hairpiece holding up his bun in the back of your mind. If he saw that it had drawn your eyes, he didn’t comment. 

The two of you chatted aimlessly about art for a while before talking business. Nothing seemed to be new other than your own material, so you slid the stack of papers to his side of the table and watched in anticipation as he leafed through them. 

“My, my,” he purred, sounding infinitely pleased, “where do you come up with these ideas?” 

Shrugging, you lifted the lower part of your mask to take an experimental sip of your cooling tea. “Same place you find all the other stuff, I guess.” 

“It’s just interesting for someone who has openly little enthusiasm about taking part in such things yourself.” 

You shrugged again. This wasn’t the first time you had discussed your uncommon sexual proclivities with Songbird, and you knew he didn’t mean it in a demeaning way. 

He leaned forward in his seat, fingertips brushing over a certain line. “Really, your words are so… invigorating, shall we say. It’s amazing how deeply you understand the eroticism of the human body, how we yearn for what is out of reach and crave that which is forbidden.” Songbird paused dramatically while you scoffed, mischief oozing from behind his mask as if the fox spirit had taken him as a host. “Not that I want to add to the pressure you’re no doubt under, but I can only imagine the way your art would be elevated if you found yourself a husband.” His fan playfully flicked the edge of the manuscript, of which the main couple was a pair of women. “Or a wife.~” 

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but think of the smug way your mother had urged you to seek out Sect Leader Jiang again, despite your complaints. There were moments where you were tempted to ask the Jiang disciples he sent to your home about him, but you refrained out of respect. Plus, it would be super strange to just show up at Lotus Pier uninvited, with no reason to be there other than to ogle the pretty sect leader while he worked. Being labeled as a lustful weirdo wouldn’t bring you any closer to snagging a husband—it was nothing better than a fantasy, anyway. 

It seemed that you were silent for a moment too long, because Songbird opened his fan again with an excitable flick. “Oh? Has fortune struck after all?” he teased, but you knew he just wanted to gossip about your love life. 

“Not really,” you said, but the pressure of Songbird’s eager stare was not muted by his mask. You leaned back in your seat, staring at the ceiling wistfully. “There are some beautiful people in the world, aren’t there?” 

Songbird tilted his head, hair falling over his shoulders with a grace you wished you could capture in paint, if only you had the skill. “There are,” he agreed, voice soft in a way that surprised you. “Heavens forbid that you of all people may underestimate the beauty in this world.” 

With that cryptic comment, he stood with your manuscript in hand, brushing his fingers across your shoulder as he passed by. “I’ll write to you soon, my dear,” he murmured, then disappeared around the corner. 

Confused and warm in the face, you drank the rest of your room-temperature tea in silence, then left the shop with a slightly less calm heart than when you’d entered. 

~ 

Things usually didn’t happen to you. That wasn’t a bad thing—you liked a predictable life so you could experiment with it as you pleased—and you fulfilled your excitement quota with the tales you heard secondhand through your friends and overzealous strangers. But it started to get suspicious when you were nearly run over in the local market an hour after your meeting with Songbird by a dog bigger than any you’d ever seen. 

The tingle of energy provided by your core gave you enough of a warning to brace yourself before a fluffy white-and-gray mass slammed into your side, barking ceaselessly. It wagged its tail and kept jumping up to lick your ear—holy shit, this dog was big enough to reach your ear—and you grabbed its paws in an attempt to calm it down. Making baffled eye contact with this enormous pup, you continued to help it “stand” while its human yelled out after it. 

A young man in fancy yellow cultivation robes caught up quickly, dragging the dog back to his side with a scowl that felt oddly familiar. “Down, Fairy! Bad dog! Why did you run off like that?” he scolded, hurrying into a bow to apologize. “I’m so sorry, Miss! Fairy usually doesn’t behave like this…” 

“It’s fine,” you said absently, brow furrowing as you tried to place the robes in your mind. When the young man looked up at you with wide, earnest eyes, your eyes caught onto the vermillion mark dotted at the center of his forehead, and the puzzle pieces clicked into place. 

This was a boy from the Jin sect! But why was he in Yunmeng? 

You recalled Jiang Wanyin’s mention of a multi-sect night hunt held a few days prior. Before you could ask about it, the dog, Fairy (such a cute and unfitting name for a big doggie like that!), started whining and straining toward you again. Unable to help yourself, you dropped to your knees and ruffled the pup’s fuzzy face, cooing as it happily licked your cheeks and snuffled at your shoulder. 

“Fairy!” the young man cried, but you grinned up at him and he shut his mouth, cheeks reddening. “Miss, you don’t have to…” 

“It’s okay, your dog is just friendly,” you chirped, paying no mind to the dirt now clinging to your clothes as you hugged the eager canine. These were your plain spare robes anyway, and it wasn’t like the townsfolk had any expectation of ladylike behavior from you at this point. 

“Fairy is a spirit dog, there’s no need to be so friendly with random strangers…” the cultivator huffed, but he leaned down to run his hand along his dog’s flank, resulting in him getting smacked in the legs by an overly enthusiastic tail. You laughed at the loud, repeated whacking, and the young man blushed. 

“So, what brings you to Yunmeng, daozhang?” you asked. 

The cultivator crouched down to join you, the two of you petting his dog together just off the path. “Well, there was a night hunt,” he said cautiously, like night hunts weren’t common occurrences open to public knowledge. “And I’m staying for a few days to visit family.” 

“Oh, that’s nice.” You smiled at him, rubbing your cheek against Fairy’s fluffy head. Goodness, you needed to get back into animal care, it had been much too long since you hugged a furry creature. “Do you visit often?” 

The young man hesitated. “I used to.” 

There was a complex expression on his face that made you want to squish his cheeks like an overbearing auntie. Obviously, you did not do that, but you did want to cheer him up. You asked, “Were you in the market with your family? Maybe I know them.” 

That earned you a disbelieving snort. “Probably not. My jiujiu doesn’t—”

“JIN LING! What the hell are you doing?!” 

A voice thundered from across the bustling street, making everyone, including you and the young cultivator, jump in surprise. The crowd parted to make way for a seething Sect Leader Jiang, and to add to your bemusement, he was headed straight for you and the Jin boy—ohhhhhhh. 

Oh dear. Fate really had it out for you this week, didn’t it? 

Jiang Wanyin stopped in front of his nephew, who quickly shot to his feet and stood at attention, looking scolded already. You frowned up at the two men, but you couldn’t bother standing when you had a fluffy dog who remained happily buried in your arms. 

“Where do I even begin?” Jiang Wanyin ranted, cuffing Jin Ling over the head. “You claim you want to spend time with me, then vanish after I turn away for ten seconds! What kind of unfilial child did I raise?! And why is Fairy behaving so strangely? Do you let your precious spirit dog run off to beg to any random stranger now?! Don’t think I won’t break your legs!” 

You stared up at the interaction with fascination. Jin Ling’s cheeks were stained red as he took his uncle’s berating, but he kept glancing longingly at his dog as it wriggled and nuzzled the crook of your neck. Despite the threats, Jin Ling didn’t seem ill at ease, and Jiang Wanyin made no move to actually hurt the boy. 

“I’m sorry, jiujiu!” Jin Ling cut in, ducking his head when his uncle glared at the interruption. “Fairy ran off while you were talking to that vendor, I don’t know why! And this Miss was really nice about it even though Fairy jumped on her. Please don’t yell at strangers…” 

At this point, Jiang Wanyin turned his gaze toward you, a flash of recognition and surprise forming when you smiled at him sheepishly. “Hi, Jiang-zongzhu.” You waved with your free hand, in the midst of giving Fairy more head scratches. 

“You again,” Jiang Wanyin muttered, but he didn’t sound like he wanted to punt you into the nearby forest. 

Looking between the two of you, Jin Ling cautiously asked, “You know each other, jiujiu…?” 

“Shut it,” Jiang Wanyin snapped, seemingly on reflex because Jin Ling didn’t so much as blink. The sect leader’s eyes remained trained on you, his brow pinched as if you were an abstract painting. You didn’t take it to heart, merely continuing to pet the dog that settled into your lap with all the contentment of a spoiled puppy. Jaw visibly clenching, Jiang Wanyin said, “What kind of distinguished woman kneels on the ground to pet strangers’ dogs? In those clothes, no less?” 

Your eyebrows rose. “The kind that isn’t a distinguished woman?” At least, you’d never considered yourself as such. “You heard your nephew—Fairy was the one who jumped on me. What else am I supposed to do, not give any pets?” To make your point, you ruffled the dog’s face, laughing as it licked you. 

Both cultivators stared at you, stunned by your shamelessness. Like uncle, like nephew, you thought appreciatively. 

And at the sight of them together, you remembered an essential bit of news from a couple years ago, when Yunping City was temporarily evacuated. Cultivation politics weren’t often on your radar, but there was one event that had shaken the whole world for a brief moment. 

Arms firm around Fairy, you unconsciously glanced at Jin Ling’s sword. “If I really have caused offense, I deeply apologize, Jin-zongzhu.” You cupped your hands, still with an armful of dog. 

Apparently caught off guard again, Jin Ling blinked a few times, lips turning to a frown. He drew himself into a haughty air and said, “So you do know who I am. No wonder Fairy ran to you if you’re a cultivator.” 

“She’s not a cultivator,” Jiang Wanyin interjected at the same time as you said, “I’m not a cultivator.” 

You looked at Jiang Wanyin. Jiang Wanyin glared back. The obvious defense mechanism was beginning to endear you. 

There was a matching, confused scowl on Jin Ling’s face, which made you laugh, which made him scowl more. Yeah, Sect Leader Jiang really meant it when he said he raised this boy, huh? “Then…” He struggled to come up with an appropriate question (“What’s your deal?” was one you heard often). 

In the spirit of messing with him, you added, “I do have a golden core, though.” 

The wide-eyed look you received was like a cute version of the one that Jiang Wanyin had shown you just a few days ago. “What—but—why would you, if you—?” Jin Ling spluttered. 

These interactions were good for one thing, if nothing else: They were showing you that there was great pleasure to be taken in bamboozling esteemed cultivators in such a way. Shock value did indeed have the advertised value! 

Not wanting him to fumble for too long, especially in front of his glaring uncle, you took pity and piped up again. “I formed it when I was young and had a lot of free time. I come from a looooong line of merchants. You’ve probably heard of us.” You offered the name, and Jin Ling’s jaw nearly dropped. 

“You’re from that family?” he said in disbelief. “Jinlintai does business with you all the time!” 

“Yeah, my parents handle all the inter-regional business,” you boasted with a shred too much confidence. “I manage things locally while they’re away, but that’s about it.” 

Jin Ling stared at you, then at his uncle, who scowled with the clear message: Can you believe this woman?  

Then, understanding dawned in Jin Ling’s eyes. Understanding of what, you didn’t know, but you definitely hoped to find out. 

“Jiujiu,” he whispered, though you were far within earshot, “is this the one you mentioned when you couldn’t come to the night hunt—” 

Jiang Wanyin smacked his nephew away. “That’s enough from you!” 

“Let the boy speak,” you chimed in, delighted by this almost-revelation. 

“Enough from you, too,” Jiang Wanyin snapped. He grabbed his nephew’s arm and whistled, which whisked Fairy out of your grasp with a faithful yip. All you could do was reach your arm toward the retreating dog forlornly. “Come, I left that poor vendor mid-conversation because someone’s dog couldn’t behave.” Jin Ling’s mumbled apology didn’t quite reach your ears, the two already turned away from you to take their leave. 

Struck with the distinct feeling that you wouldn’t get another chance like this, you clambered to your feet and called after them. “Wait! Are you doing negotiations or something? I could help,” you offered as you dusted off your robes. 

Nephew turned back before uncle, but you were soon met with two pairs of eyes drilling holes into you. When you didn’t back down, gaze fixed on Jiang Wanyin, he clenched his fist and relaxed it. 

“It’s nothing that serious,” he said dryly. “I would like to spend some family time with my nephew, if you don’t mind.” 

“Yeah, you probably just want to steal Fairy’s attention anyway,” Jin Ling piped up. 

“So what if I do?” you quipped, but you bowed your head in acquiescence. The rejection admittedly stung a little, but you could understand that you shouldn’t invite yourself for a flimsy reason. “Enjoy your excursion, Jiang-zongzhu, Jin-zongzhu.” 

“Thanks!” Jin Ling said with a boyish grin, prompting Jiang Wanyin to squeeze his arm in reprimand, though the older man nodded at you politely. For some reason, Jin Ling gave his uncle a pointed look, instigating a silent conversation that the two continued as they walked away from you, Fairy trotting behind them. 

You sighed to yourself at the loss of opportunity, but admired the slender curve of Jiang Wanyin’s waist now that you went unobserved. Silver linings and such. 

Satisfied with the sight of a beautiful man’s figure imprinted in the back of your eyelids, you straightened your robes and resumed wandering the market. 

~

“Your father and I have decided that it’s time for you to begin handling business negotiations on your own.” 

Something in your mother’s eyes told you that this decision didn’t have much to do with your father at all, completely offsetting the serious proposal. That excited glint was familiar enough; you’d grown up alongside it, and you saw it frequently when you looked in the mirror. 

In truth, it was a long time coming. You were seated in your messy art studio, where you experimented with replicating anything sold by your family. Amateur as you were in any art medium, the most you did with your work was anonymously donate it to various orphanages for the children to play with and break as they desired. None of it held association with the goods your family sold, and for good reason. You weren’t suited to much in this business, but your parents cared about your potential, and you were somewhat surprised that it had taken this long for them to push you to devote more effort to the business. 

So, you nodded warily, wondering if there was a particular circumstance that had instigated this decision. 

Your mother drew closer and took an elegant seat on the edge of a low table littered with week-old calligraphy, hands tucked onto her lap as she smiled at you. “While we were in Qinghe,” she began, referring to the business trip they’d returned from a few days prior, “I happened to speak with a certain client within the cultivation sects who inquired after our business with a certain associate of his within Yunmeng.” 

O… oh? 

Smiling pleasantly at the apprehensive way you lowered your paintbrush to the cleft in your easel, your mother continued, “This client was very curious when I informed him that his associate did not ask much of our business. He even made some suggestions, though I’m sure he was simply throwing paint at the wall, so to speak.” She slid a thin scroll from her sleeve, which you recognized as one she used to take notes. 

When she offered it, you accepted the scroll and unrolled it. Upon skimming the first few chicken-scratch lines, you felt your suspicions lock into place. 

Your mother beamed. “Your first responsibility as an independent merchant will be to meet with the Jiang cultivation sect and discuss potential avenues of business. Building a foundation of trust and reliability between yourself as a merchant and a relatively new client will be wonderful practice, don’t you think?” 

Well… you sure would be building something, you thought. Whether it was Sect Leader Jiang’s blood pressure or a proper relationship like your mother wanted, you resigned yourself to fucking around and finding out.

Chapter Text

Lotus Pier was an hour or two away from your home when traveling by carriage, which meant you had an earlier morning than usual. The full evening prior was spent checking and re-checking your notes and sample merchandise, only to waste your precious sleep time tossing and turning between lotus-flavored stress-dreams. Thus, you had no trouble dozing off to the sway of the horses as they tugged your transport along the Yunmeng roads.

The correspondence between yourself and Lotus Pier had gone through Yunmeng Jiang’s treasurer, who had set up this meeting with her sect leader at your behest. She seemed to think positively of redecorating the place, so that was promising. You weren’t sure whether Jiang Wanyin knew who he was meeting or why—he was a busy man, you were sure—but that didn’t stop you from wondering if and how your arrival would be received. Drifting in and out of consciousness, the question lingered all the way until your carriage driver opened the door to guide you into the fresh morning. The estate that greeted you sent you into a slight daze, the subtle grandeur lending a magnificence as if you’d stepped from one dream into another. 

Disciples flitted about as you were led through Lotus Pier, glancing at you but not allowing their curious gazes to linger. A handful of your parents’ assistants followed behind you with enough professionalism that they didn’t ogle their surroundings the way you did. The water-bound view dazzled you too much to pay attention to the stares you garnered in your formal robes. Walking ahead of you was one of the sect’s servants, and he apparently didn’t mind that you turned your head every which way. He seemed pleasantly amused by your interest in the sturdy yet graceful architecture, but he did usher you with a bit more urgency once the meeting time closed in. 

“This is our secondary conference hall,” the servant said as you entered a sizable room with a smooth, wooden table that spanned its length. There were two chairs set up, one across from the other, and the servant pulled out the one nearest to you. “Jiang-zongzhu will arrive momentarily. He is usually punctual, so you have a few minutes to get settled, if necessary.” 

“Cool, thanks,” you chirped. The servant paused, giving you a perturbed look, to which you smiled innocently. Shaking off your casual tone, he moved to the corner of the room to boil tea. You gestured to your people, and they dutifully arranged themselves in a line behind you. 

Time didn’t precisely matter to you so long as you had something to do. The assistants you’d brought with you all carried documents and samples of goods your family’s business provided, so you did some idle arranging of your own notes until the sect leader arrived. 

The servant had just placed the steaming cups of tea in front of your and Jiang-zongzhu’s place settings when the door behind him slid open, revealing the sect leader himself in his brusque and well-dressed glory. 

“May I ask this esteemed guest what your business with our sect might be,” he stated more than inquired as he took his seat, but you didn’t need to say a word before his eyes locked on you and went wide. “What.” 

Thought so. 

You failed to suppress a smile, and couldn’t quite hide the sparkle of amusement in your eye. “This wasn’t my idea.” 

Jiang Wanyin made a point to look at you like he didn’t believe it, but he folded his hands in front of him in as patient a posture as he could manage. “As long as you don’t waste my time, you’re free to promote your business.” His lips twitched at the corners, and you realized with a giddy thrill down your spine that it was sort of a smile. “Do make it convincing, guniang.” 

A cheeky grin bled through your attempt at composure. “Of course, Zongzhu.” 

With the pressure and support of your family’s best assistants at your back, you straightened yourself into Business Mode and offered Jiang Wanyin a draft of your goods and services. 

“Our records show that the last time we’ve done business with your sect was over a decade ago,” you began, “so allow me to reacquaint your esteemed self with our business model. We pride ourselves in crafting custom merchandise that combines beauty and utility.” As you spoke, you felt your chest fill with the familiar, jittery sensation of performance. “I don’t plan to sell you literally everything on the list in your hands, and we’re more than happy to work with our clients to create new innovations, but this sample will provide insight…” 

Through your pitch, Jiang Wanyin was quiet and attentive. He didn’t interrupt, responding only when you asked a question, and giving the perfect, professional amount of input. It made you admire him more, but you had to shove that feeling into the back of your head to dwell upon later, when you didn’t have him as a captive audience. 

“Do any of these services seem amenable to Jiang-zongzhu?” you concluded, trying not to get impatient at his impeccable poker face. For someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, he sure didn’t show his thoughts during the negotiation stage of business meetings. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, considering how long he’d been leading his sect. 

An excruciating minute passed where Jiang Wanyin shuffled through the blueprints and fingered at the sample items your assistants had placed before him. If you didn’t know any better—which you really didn’t—you’d think he was stalling to make you squirm on purpose. 

“How involved are you in the production process?” he asked after a while. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, crinkling at the edges when he saw your surprise. 

“Uhm…” You blinked a few times. “It depends…?” 

Due to your lackadaisical attitude, you only involved yourself in more lofty, creative projects that often required expert intervention to finish. Besides that, you contributed to various parts of other projects when needed and as they suited your arbitrary and therefore unpredictable schedule. But your parents had assigned you this job in full, so you would technically be overseeing the whole process and beyond. If Jiang Wanyin accepted. 

Jiang Wanyin heaved a small sigh, then laid flat a hand-painted blueprint of an intricate fenestration. “If these were styled more particularly to Lotus Pier, then it might be a good change in atmosphere. Can you fortify them to resist harsh weather?” 

A jolt of electricity lit your heart. “Yes, of course we can,” you said quickly, glaring at him when he smirked at your eagerness. Drawing yourself up, you pressed, “We have the best engineers in the region working with us. I’m more than certain our designers will have the time of their life taking flood season into consideration. Problem-solving gets them way too excited.” 

The small, perhaps pleased hum from the sect leader was barely audible, but you couldn’t help but pay close enough attention to hear it. You resisted the urge to breathe a longing sigh, keeping your posture straight and proud while Jiang Wanyin pondered the offer. 

“Alright,” he said finally. “My people who do repairs around here will have to be at the next meeting. And I suppose a few additions to the halls wouldn’t drown us in debt.” 

You stuffed down the urge to celebrate; that could come later. Maybe directly after this meeting adjourned. “Anything for our client,” you said deferentially. “What would appeal to Jiang-zongzhu’s tastes?” 

It appeared that this made Jiang Wanyin’s eye twitch, but his focus was intent enough that you wondered whether it was your imagination. “In brief, some thematic decor would suffice. Please allow me to consider it further until our next meeting.” 

Sensing an imminent dismissal, you inclined your head in a bow. “Of course.” 

After a bit more discussion and the summoning of Jiang Wanyin’s personal attendant (a cute, serious teenager in charge of his schedule), you agreed upon another consultation in three weeks’ time. To your surprise and delight, the sect leader deigned to escort you to the gates of Lotus Pier himself, marching ahead of your little entourage in silence. It was much funnier than he realized; you couldn’t suppress a smile that made your cheeks ache by the time you reached the exit. 

Turning to you with an intense look that made your grin waver a bit from flusterment, Jiang Wanyin’s hand magnetized to the ring on his second finger and fiddled with it. “Perhaps you might need to visit periodically to gather a sense of atmosphere for your products,” he said gruffly. The noontime sun was bright enough to force everyone to squint, and a hint of red was visible on his cheeks. You could play it off as sun exposure, but you didn’t want to. “Lotus Pier is open to you. If it’s necessary.” 

You had to take a deep breath to fend off the overwhelming urge to do anything from teasing him to playful physical harassment. “This one thanks Jiang-zongzhu for his hospitality,” you stated, making yourself humble with a bow. Internally, you patted yourself on the back for your diplomacy. You were pretty good at this when you tried! 

Upon straightening up, you were greeted with another ghost of a smile on Jiang Wanyin’s lips. All sorts of wins today! 

“Until next time,” he said, then turned and strode off with an air of purpose that felt a little performative. It was just a gut feeling, but you were in the business of deluding yourself that he looked forward to your company. 

Before you entered the carriage to take you back home, you turned to your entourage and gave them your most unrestrained smile. “Do not tell my parents about any of this!” you ordered, but you knew that at least one of them was in charge of reviewing whatever report you wrote about this meeting. You were totally screwed.

Chapter Text

As suspected, the very dinner after you submitted your report to the record-keepers, your mother spoke up in that way of hers that had your father mentally checking out of the conversation. 

“It’s good to hear that Sect Leader Jiang is willing to do business with us,” she said once the servants excused themselves, cheerful as ever. “But, you know, he’s unmarried, and word is he refuses to go to a matchmaker. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get in his good graces, dear.” 

You did your best not to reject the idea by default—a bad habit of yours. It was true, you did have a decent chance of worming your way into the sect leader’s life on pure technicality and questionable luck. But being advised directly made the prospect feel more than a bit slimy, just on principle. 

“Sure, Mama, but have you considered that he doesn’t want to get married?” you pointed out. Not that you knew Jiang Wanyin’s marital preferences, but your intuition was sensing something different about him, in a similar way to yourself; it was hard to pinpoint, and maybe was more of a defensive attribute than an intuitive one. Even if you planned on asking, you doubted that Jiang Wanyin was well attuned to that aspect of himself—a genuine answer wasn’t likely. Also, he would probably yell at you. 

Maybe out of a sense of kinship, you felt compelled to defend him even though he would never hear of this conversation. You’d sooner bathe in a frozen pond than let your parents bring this topic up to Jiang Wanyin’s face.

Your father chose then to interject, glancing up from the spoon of broth cooling in his hand. “Like how you don’t want to get married?” 

Sheesh. Rarely a break around here.

“I don’t know,” you said snippily, “I’m just not interested in what men want from me. Maybe Jiang-zongzhu is the same, or maybe he doesn’t want a wife at all.” (In more than one sense, you didn’t say. But that was conjecture on your part.) 

“Regardless,” your mother said breezily, “he’s in need of an heir. Now, I know you aren’t interested in childbearing—”

“Thank you so much for remembering that quite essential detail,” you muttered. 

“—but that means it will at least be on his mind. You never know, he may be more open to the idea than you’ve assumed. He seems to like you, and these quirks of yours mean you might just be the wife he needs. It would be wise not to let this opportunity slip through your fingers.” 

You knew she meant well. As your mother and as a businesswoman, she could be deceptively straightforward, but her intellect was a rare match among non-scholars, and she was skilled in the art of negotiation. Of your parents, she was the one born into the merchant lifestyle, and you had to wonder whether she’d been reincarnated several times over into this very family, from how exceptionally she took to the business. Her talents balanced well with your father’s knack for finances and optimization—his family was full of engineers by trade, which was how they met all those years ago. They became a power couple that elevated their respective trades by collaboration, and the rest was history. They made a good team. And naturally, as their only child, you were shafted with the creative laziness of an heir apparent who grew up with worlds of opportunities that others could only dream of. 

Therefore, when they joined forces against you, the odds were unbalanced for all the reasons above. 

Perhaps due to this, or perhaps because of the stars’ alignment on the day of your birth, you had a dormant side of yourself that was pulled from its slumber for special occasions. Right now, for example. 

Under the expectant looks of your parents and their presumption of your agreement, your stubbornness rooted itself deeper and stronger. They believed there were no downsides to accepting their request of you, but you wouldn’t agree for the sake of it. You stared back, eyes darting between them, and your lips thinned in displeasure. 

“Is that an order?” you said slowly. 

They exchanged a glance, but you knew it was due to your tone more than your question. 

“We already promised not to arrange your future marriage,” your mother assured. “I’m only saying that this is the best opportunity you’ve encountered so far.” 

“At least, you haven’t outright refused to associate with this man,” your father added. He was still salty over the past several attempts to set you up with wealthy heirs. But as well-connected as your father was, his friends’ sons were all either boring or pretentious, with hardly a brain cell of social awareness among them—not suited to you at all. 

They were right to observe that you liked Jiang Wanyin. He was handsome, competent, and brash in a way that made you want to wriggle into his crevices and pick him apart. It was a simple infatuation, if it was even strong enough to be labeled as such; and though you doubted it would ever happen, you wouldn’t oppose a relationship if Jiang Wanyin somehow caught feelings. But your family’s insistence only spurred your stubborn roots to spread, locking you in the place where you’d stand your ground. 

Any old argument wouldn’t work on your parents. Luckily, you’d grown up around them, so the path of least resistance was clear. 

Posture straight as if you were leading a presentation, you asked, “Why should I jeopardize our new business partnership just to bother him about a sensitive and personal topic? There’s no guarantee how receptive he would be to such a suggestion, especially when we’ve met so few times. I’d like to prioritize the project I’ve been assigned, if that would please your distinguished selves.” 

Okay, you may have been heavy-handed on that last part, but you were feeling a little jittery. You didn’t know why this was affecting you so much, but you could only hope your face wasn’t too red. Something in you was burning, and you didn’t like it. 

Your parents were quiet for long enough that everyone went back to their meals, the tension undermined by the pensive look on your mother’s face. It seemed like your father had dropped it, though you were sure it was because he’d already spent a full decade coming to terms with your unwillingness to be married. A win was a win. 

When your bowl was empty, your mother caught your eye. “It’s just a suggestion, Xiao Bao,” she said reassuringly. “We won’t bring it up again.” She elbowed her husband until he grunted in agreement. Whether he was listening or not, you couldn’t help but smile. 

“Noted,” you said, because you couldn’t show weakness. Then, you stood and patted both parents on the head, grinning down at them cheekily. “We’ll see what happens.”

Chapter Text

You realized too late that your parents hadn’t promised not to meddle. Before you even met with Jiang Wanyin again, your mother requested last-minute that you join her on a trip to Gusu for a routine check on your family’s wares in Caiyi Town. She did not disclose that you were also meeting with the Gusu Lan sect leader regarding precious stone trade prices until you were literally on your way there. 

At first, you were suspicious that she was taking advantage of your singular agreement to help with the family business—an attempt to teach you as much as possible while you were still willing to engage. Then, you discovered that, no, this was a shameless ploy to introduce you to more cultivators. Like preparation for handling your future in-laws. 

When had you agreed to have anything to do with the cultivation world?! 

Whether you liked it or not, your mother would shred you if you weren’t polite to the nice man in his endearingly silly forehead ribbon and billowy white robes (they kind of looked like funeral garb, but you extremely politely did not comment), so you politely responded to his polite greeting with a polite introduction as your mother’s offspring. 

You, in fact, used the word “offspring.” Lan-zongzhu found it funnier than your mother did. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, guniang,” Lan Xichen said with a kind smile. You also very politely did not grouch about how every cultivator you’d ever seen was a peerless beauty. How was that fair to the rest of you?! It wasn’t like you were hideous yourself, but someone average didn’t stand a chance when the top cultivators were out here looking like descended immortals with perfect hair and a subtle glow to their skin like they moisturized it with moonstones and stardust. 

Maybe that was the real reason you should’ve focused on your cultivation studies. Forget power, you needed that ethereal vibe. 

Shedding your inner turmoil for the time being, you cupped your hands and returned the sect leader’s smile. “Thank you for allowing me to sit in on this meeting, Lan-zongzhu.” 

Yes, you were being passive-aggressive about getting dragged along without proper disclosure, but your mother couldn’t do more than squeeze your knee in warning as she took over for you. 

“It’s our pleasure to have this discussion with you again, Zewu-jun,” she said warmly. 

Your family was mostly exclusive in its dealings, save for the large-scale charity work that your maternal grandparents ran in their quote-unquote retirement. High quality meant high expenses, so your customer demographic followed suit; you didn’t discriminate in where you sold your goods (such as the shop you just checked on in Caiyi Town), but you invested the most resources in and therefore made the most money from the enormously wealthy factions of the country. There was no doubt that your parents had met with the Lans before, and it didn’t surprise you that your mother got along exceptionally with Lan Xichen. He seemed like the earnest, responsible type, which was right up your mother’s alley. Honestly, it was more surprising that she wasn’t trying to set you up with him, considering she’d mentioned he was unmarried as well. 

Then again, she’d also said he’d been in mourning for some close family for a long time, so maybe she felt him more sensitive than the probably equally traumatized Jiang Wanyin. Who knew. You didn’t really keep up with cultivation stuff. There was a war around the time you turned double digits, or something. That still didn’t excuse the funeral-white that the Lans were notorious for—but you’d keep your mouth shut on their dress code. 

“I’m sorry my uncle couldn’t attend today,” Lan Xichen said as the tea house served drinks and adorably tiny cakes for the three of you. 

“That’s quite alright,” your mother assured. “I’m sure he has lots to attend to.” 

Lan Xichen gave a sort of pained smile. “Naturally.” 

From there, you zoned out somewhat, blandly paying attention when it felt necessary. You didn’t take for granted that your mother was lenient on your focus, perhaps as an implied apology for forcing you along. The mini cakes were delicious and paired well with the tea, but you could never get the timing right on the drink’s temperature and had to stew in your burnt-tongue misery in respectful silence. 

“—Indeed, she’s starting a new project in our attempts to branch out into Yunmeng’s cultivation sector,” you heard your mother say, and you nearly spilled your third cup of tea over the shock of such blatant steering of the conversation. This gave you two seconds to open your mouth and interject, but Lan Xichen had already turned to you with such an interested smile that you wilted. 

“You’ve met with Jiang-zongzhu, then?” You straightened up with a quick nod. Lan Xichen thumbed at the rim of his empty teacup, his eyes curved in fondness. “His personality is, ah, unconventional; it may take some patience, but I do hope you allow his positive attributes to shine through.” 

Something about that gave you pause. “Ah, um, sure…” you uttered, brows furrowing. “He’s not that hard to understand.” 

“Of course, I meant no offense,” Lan Xichen corrected. He regarded you, a subtle curiosity in his gaze. “His reputation surely precedes him—I simply wanted to assure you he is a good man.” 

You hummed in response, suspicion bubbling up. Eyes narrowed, you kept your voice as casual as possible as you said, “Yeah. Is Jiang-zongzhu really so disagreeable that you must convince me of his virtue, like it’s not plain to see?” 

Your mother muttered your name, but you ignored the chastisement and kept your eyes on Lan Xichen. His lips turned in a light frown, still handsome but now in a sad way that made you feel kind of guilty. 

“Perhaps I misspoke,” he said carefully. “I have known Jiang-zongzhu for a long time, and I wanted to encourage any willingness to work with him. It was not my intention to gossip. I apologize.” He appeared troubled.

“That’s not what I,” you said with some strain, but your mother intervened. 

“Your apology is not necessary, Lan-zongzhu,” she said, squeezing your knee so you wouldn’t chime in again. “My daughter has a good opinion of Jiang-zongzhu, so she must be surprised to hear that others might not.” When you tried to interrupt, your mother cut you a look that sent a stone into your stomach. 

“Oh,” Lan Xichen said with an air of surprise that further bothered you. “That’s good to hear.” 

He appeared wary for the final handful of minutes of small talk between him and your mother; you felt bad for ruining the mood, but who did he think he was to badmouth Jiang-zongzhu like that?! Sure, he was an esteemed sect leader and had both the status and experience to critique Jiang Wanyin, but still! 

“Is there anything else to discuss before we part ways?” Lan Xichen asked, eyes flicking between your mother and you. 

Predictably, your mother turned to you with an expectant lift of her brows. A short sigh burst through your nose, and you cupped your hands and tilted your head deferentially.

“This one apologizes for the… disrespect, and such,” you muttered. Your eyes lifted, gauging Lan Xichen’s reaction; he seemed like he hadn’t expected or even needed you to say sorry, so you straightened up and didn’t bother whole-assing the apology. “Also,” you added, pointing toward your forehead, “do you all get weird sunburns wearing that in the summer? Wait,” you smacked your hand lightly on the table, “there’s no way you get sunburns. Tan lines?”

Lan Xichen blinked. Then, he cracked a smile, and his soft laughter made your shoulders loosen. 

“My brother-in-law was concerned—or, rather, amused about the same thing,” he said wryly. “In fact, he’s been testing talismans on our juniors for the better part of three years, since he came to live with us.” His gaze slid to the nearby window, where the sun was drifting slowly into view. It didn’t seem like he was completely present, in that moment. “He and my brother recently returned from some weeks of travel, and I’m to meet them before I return to Cloud Recesses.” 

“Ooh,” you said without thinking. It had been a while since you were reminded of the elegant name of Gusu Lan’s estate. The mental image was so arresting, you made a note to check around Caiyi Town for paintings of the nearby sect before you left. 

Serene brown eyes returned to you, making your heart skip a beat from nerves. This guy’s opinion of you was at rock bottom by now, right? Regardless of business relations, that’d totally suck. 

So you scrambled for something to add. “I mean, the Cloud Recesses sound lovely. And, um, your brother-in-law sounds… relatable…?” Under the patient scrutiny of Zewu-jun’s gaze, your ideas fizzled out like the vestiges of cooking oil on a hot pan. You offered a thin-lipped smile, hating yourself a little bit for being so unable to hold your tongue. 

For better or worse, your mother took pity on you before Lan Xichen tipped one way or the other. “We won’t take up more of your time, then,” she interjected smoothly. “It’s been a pleasure, as always.” 

Lan Xichen inclined his head, his smile seeming to soften. “Likewise, Madam.” When he looked at you again, you wondered if you ought to make another attempt to humble yourself to him. Then, lips quirked oddly, he said, “My brother-in-law happens to have had a close relationship with Jiang-zongzhu in the past.” 

Ah…? 

He continued with that strange sense of distance, “Perhaps I may be speaking out of turn, but…” Trailing off, he shook his head, leaving you mystified and more intrigued than was fair. “Disregard this old man’s wistful ramblings. I fear I am still not myself, despite leaving seclusion so long ago.” 

Lan Xichen began to lower himself, but you hurriedly waved your hands with enough vigor that he was distracted out of his bow. “Please don’t do that, Zongzhu, no one’s here to take offense,” you said, doing your utmost not to sound desperate for him to proceed with his thoughts. 

Glancing over at your mother, you took suspicious note that she was sitting in silence instead of chatting away; she usually did so without a care in the world after the conclusion of any meeting, so long as she was in friendly company. Instead, she wore a mild expression, neutral save for the eyebrow she raised when your eyes met, as if to say, I did my part. Clean up your own mess, you impolite child. 

Eh. Fair enough. 

So, left once more to your own devices as Lan Xichen appeared at a loss, you said, “You’re not old at all, Lan-zongzhu.” (An understatement—you didn’t know his age, but his beauty and grace smacked you in the face every time you looked at him.) “Also, you didn’t technically answer my question. Weird tan lines or no?” 

That didn’t appease your mother; you could practically feel her struggling to suppress the urge to facepalm. But! It got Lan Xichen to crack another smile, so she was not allowed to complain about your methods! 

“Our young ones sometimes fall victim in the sunny months if they’re not careful,” he confirmed. His fingers idly trailed along the lower edge of his forehead ribbon, and your impulses yelled and shouted to reach out and tug on it. Obviously, you did not do that, because you knew how to keep your hands to yourself, even if your brain-to-mouth filter wasn’t so capable. “Fortunately, only family and significant others bear witness when this happens. Though, many achieve proper cultivation before they’re permitted to mingle.” His hand lowered, but you couldn’t help eyeing the faint blue cloud pattern woven into the ribbon. “Beyond that, we are spared of the sun’s wrath.”

Your answered question aside, you could put together the puzzle pieces: The forehead ribbons stayed on when around strangers. Got it. Cool cool cool. Amazing. 

That did not help the temptation to tug on the dangling fabric! 

You remained steadfast. “Well, direct me towards your brother-in-law sometime,” you said solemnly. “I’m very interested in his talisman work.” 

It was meant to be a joke, but Lan Xichen opted not to take it as one… for some reason. 

“I have a feeling you would get along with him, guniang.” The thoughtful look that appeared made your stomach flip. Did you accidentally give him an idea?! “You said you were expanding your business horizons?” 

Heart in your throat, you nodded. 

Lan Xichen mirrored you. “My brother-in-law, Wei Ying, is very experienced with the regional difficulties of Yunmeng. Perhaps…” He hesitated, but you didn’t interrupt. “Perhaps you could work with him, or have him work with your engineers. If you’re willing to integrate cultivation practices into your craft.” 

Well. That was a strong networking offer. In several avenues. 

No pressure! 

You couldn’t bear to look at your mother in this moment, so you dropped your gaze in order to gather yourself. In the end, there was only one answer to give. 

“That would actually be really great,” you said, wearing a tentative smile. “I have a little cultivation knowledge, so either way this will be a good learning experience. Provided your brother-in-law is interested too,” you added. 

“I’m sure he,” Lan Xichen started, but cut himself off with a wry press of his lips. “He will be interested in meeting such a bright individual as yourself,” he redirected. 

A minute ago he’d said this Wei Ying guy used to have a close relationship with Jiang Wanyin. So there was probably some bad blood there, considering Jiang Wanyin’s personality… 

“Many thanks for this opportunity, Lan-zongzhu,” you said with a bow. 

“It’s no trouble, Miss.” 

At long last, your mother spoke up for the final pleasantries before departing. As you paid for your time in the tea house and took your leave together, something itched at the back of your memory. Watching Lan Xichen sweep away with his elegant (and still very funeral-y) white robes to meet his brother and his brother’s husband, you turned over your limited jianghu knowledge in your mind. 

Lan Xichen, Zewu-jun… brother of Hanguang-jun, Lan Wangji… Lan Wangji, married to… 

… who had a relationship with the Jiangs… 

Standing outside the humble tea shop in Caiyi Town, your head abruptly grew faint. 

Did you just get yourself into contact with the Yiling Laozu?!

~

For self-preservation reasons, you chose to keep that little detail a personal secret. 

Listen, you liked gossip just as much as the next guy—the nosiness helped fuel your creative juices, and what’s wrong with that?—but as a good, self-aware citizen of the world, you always took it with a healthy dose of skepticism. You never really believed that the Yiling Laozu (Wei Wuxian, as you promptly refreshed your memory upon rushing to your home library) was some irredeemable monster who ate orphans and sacrificed virgins at the Burial Mounds. Heck, you probably would’ve been one of those sacrificed virgins if you’d traveled to Yiling around the time of the Sunshot Campaign. You were barely into your teens at that point, so your attention was elsewhere and you could no longer remember if your family’s business practices had been affected by the war. 

Nonetheless, you had heard when the Yiling Laozu was resurrected a few years ago and his reputation resurged as a hero rather than a villain. A few cursory go-arounds at your favorite taverns gave you much gossip material, but the most that came from it was a few extra spicy demon-flavored fantasies sent out to Songbird for distribution, netting you a small fortune and both fanmail and hate mail in droves. 

Anyway. Wei Wuxian, Wei Ying, whatever—he was spoken of fondly by his brother-in-law who was the mellowest person you’d ever met, so he couldn’t possibly be that bad. And yeah, Jiang Wanyin had a reputation back in the day for torturing demonic cultivators, ostensibly because he was searching for his dead-but-now-not-dead brother-or-best-friend-or-shixiong, but there hadn’t been any torture-related gossip coming from Yunmeng Jiang in a long while, so… so…

You didn’t know what to think. More than anything, you were aware that your viewpoint was the tiniest brushstroke of the whole painting that made up the messy relationship between the Jiangs and the Yiling Laozu. As a resident of Yunmeng, you were privy to some basic information: Lotus Pier had been slaughtered by the Wen clan, beginning the era of the Sunshot Campaign, and Jiang Wanyin had inherited the sect very young. Any other details were fuzzy to you, and no doubt relentlessly touched by the greasy fingers of gossip. There was no way you could ask Jiang Wanyin to let you in on his tragic past—aside from preferring not to walk into an early death, a part of you hoped that he would come to trust you enough to tell you on his own. That was a far stretch, though, so you mostly just didn’t want to dredge up old wounds. 

So when you received word from Lan Xichen informing you of an impending letter from Wei Wuxian, you decided to keep that to yourself, too. 

Placing Lan Xichen’s letter with care into your cabinet of personal correspondence, you heaved a weary sigh. At least four distinguished cultivators now, you’d somehow come to bother. 

What had you gotten yourself into?

Chapter Text

You knew you’d lost the fight when you had your first dream about Jiang Wanyin. 

It was a simple one, the two of you sitting together knee to knee before an endless lake. There should have been lotuses—should have been life brimming all around you, but instead the water was deep and dark and devoid of everything but gentle ripples. When you awoke, sluggish for long enough to dwell on those fading images, you found the dream unremarkable but for a point or two that lingered: You knew for certain that it was Jiang Wanyin at the pier beside you, and you had wanted to go in the water below. 

The rest of the dream, as all did, slipped from your memory like a breath on one’s deathbed. You were left with the phantom of a feeling you wanted to reclaim, but no matter how long you stared at your own ceiling, it was gone for good. 

Days later, you were plopped into a carriage with your cousin’s third-best engineering team dispatched from the royal capital (minus the cousin himself, who preferred not to stray from the city) and carted off to a half-sightseeing-tour, half-real-meeting at Lotus Pier. The sightseeing was legitimate, since you very well couldn’t toss your staff into a project without seeing the architecture they’d be working with. But you were no engineer yourself, so this was a prime opportunity to appreciate the sect’s aesthetics and take your time doing so. 

Jiang Wanyin received your entourage with his attendant at his side, the bespectacled teen’s gangly arms laden with scrolls. Their sect leader’s mouth was in a neutral line, his eyes stormy with emotions you weren’t close enough to interpret. Maybe he’d reflected enough on your interactions to doubt your leadership, or maybe he was hiding that he was happy to see you. Prying could very well mean certain death, so you prudently minded your business. 

“There are repairs being done in town,” Jiang Wanyin said the moment you were within earshot. “They’ll meet us when they’re finished.” 

So he’d sent his maintenance team out to help with construction outside his sect. How generous. If he hadn’t said it in an irate way that canceled out his own kindness, it might’ve even sounded noble. 

Or, it would, if you didn’t see right through him! Oh, Sect Leader Jiang, so unwilling to be viewed as nice. Everything he did filled you with intrigue, and he didn’t have the faintest clue. 

“All good,” you said dismissively, lamenting that you hadn’t found the time to take him up on his offer to visit before today. “There’s plenty to discuss. Lead the way, Zongzhu.” 

Being that you didn’t often participate in the production aspects of your family’s business, you hadn’t acquainted yourself much with the team that followed you and Jiang Wanyin around the estate like a gaggle of ducklings. They behaved themselves well, and though you heard a deprecating joke or two about you in comparison to your smarter, more extroverted cousin, you didn’t bother to rebuke. Sure, he was better at small talk and had an overt manner of self-confidence only a city boy could pull off, but you didn’t care to compare to him. Simply put, you were in completely different realms of the family business, and you were content with that despite the inherent estrangement of it. You preferred to listen to people to get to know them rather than probe; you liked being around people, but speaking up too much did drain your energy. 

While Jiang Wanyin and his attendant—Xiao Yinhua, as you were reminded when he snapped orders at them—directed your group to study the relevant structures around Lotus Pier, you admired the mix of traditional grandeur and subtle, self-assured beauty against the cloudy day. The rich, earthy tones of the buildings and sturdy wooden planks that formed the pier made the gray sky imperious, but the soft pastels of the blooming lotuses softened the estate in a way that inspired poetry. No doubt, your notebooks would fill quickly upon your return home. 

“We pick the lotus pods when they’re ripe,” Jiang Wanyin commented when he caught you looking. His head turned to gaze out into the vast waters, blossoming with green and pink. “Not yet.” 

When you glanced at him, you could see a hazy version of his hand reaching for your wrist as you threatened to slip into the syrupy depths of a midnight-blue lake. The Jiang Wanyin from your dream wouldn’t let you drop. 

He eyed you questioningly. You looked away. 

Yunmeng Jiang’s team of fixer-uppers joined you half a shichen after your arrival, consisting of one engineer proper and five handymen of varying genders and ages. Their names went in one ear and out the other—a regrettable habit of your mind, but one you’d come to accept. One pair seemed like a father and his daughter, but you didn’t feel like asking. You stood by and allowed them to mingle with your people, hands folded behind your back as your gaze wandered out into the lotus-abundant lake. 

The tour brought you through a maze of buildings, docks, and pavilions (not necessarily in that order), each integrating with each other masterfully to form a complex, auspicious estate that felt like a realm of its own. Each step sent a subtle hum of energy into you like the pluck of a zither string, invigorating and at the same time draining. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but the sensation was familiar enough that you brushed it off, intending to think on it later, when you weren’t supposed to be paying attention to Jiang Wanyin’s gruff corrections of Xiao Yinhua’s expositions about their sect.

Suffused with the mild scent of impending rain, the air was kind to you until the tail end of the tour. This was convenient because all you had to do was usher your ragtag group of engineers et al. into that conference hall from your last visit, hand them a stack of paper and some writing utensils, and close the door until they were all studied out. 

Sliding the door shut, a heavy breath escaped your lungs. You leaned on the wall now separating you from your team, giving yourself a moment to close your eyes and listen to their muted chatter. A small smile curved your lips; their enthusiasm was palpable even from here, everyone so serious about this new job. 

The quiet patter of footsteps came from your left. When you opened your eyes, Jiang Wanyin was standing there sans attendant, observing you. 

You smiled a bit wider. Something in your chest was warm; lingered from the excitement of the day. “Feeling better now that all the trouble is in there?” Your head tipped back to gesture at the lively room. 

Huffing out a breath that could be a laugh, Jiang Wanyin shook his head. “Some trouble remains out here,” he said dryly. 

Whether it was a joke or a criticism, you couldn’t help the bubble of enjoyment that wanted to make itself known. Lotus Pier had a vibe about it that seeped into you with every breath, made you optimistic in a way you usually avoided.

A chuckle tugged out of your chest, and when it did, Jiang Wanyin looked almost startled—in the minute widening of his eyes, the slight softening of that unimpressed curve of his lips which you yearned to relax using your own. 

Oops. You weren’t supposed to be thinking such thoughts in the man’s presence. 

“I apologize if we’re overstaying our welcome,” you said before a less appropriate statement could tumble from your mouth. “It was my oversight not to prepare for the weather.” 

Jiang Wanyin’s mouth did something funny, a little twist that wormed cutely on his severe face. “Merchants aren’t clairvoyant,” he snapped. “Lotus Pier can house a few extra people while it rains. Ridiculous.” 

That was his way of telling you not to worry about it. Maybe someone else would’ve heard his tone and thought him disgusted at the possible implication that he couldn’t afford some hospitality. But to you, his spiky pretense was too thin; brittle like the dry parts off a dead plant. 

“Thank you for your consideration, Jiang-zongzhu,” you said, dipping your head in a bow. 

You saw Jiang Wanyin’s face twitch in that funny way again, and he visibly stopped himself from saying something. “You’re welcome,” he muttered, like he was displeased to be thanked. “Someone will bring your staff tea and make sure they don’t knock too many brain cells and lose them all.” 

Nodding in acceptance, you watched him for another moment. Another sensation from your dream welled up to the theater behind your eyes, a faint smile from him swimming across your vision. 

That’s right. In that dream, he had smiled at you. Was that the feeling you’d regretted to lose? 

“I,” Jiang Wanyin said, stilted, “have work to do. I’ll be going now.” 

But he hesitated before he left, brow wrinkled as his eyes trained on you even while turning away. The temptation rose to ask if you could join him, just to hang out, but… 

Honestly, you were tired today. You already knew his answer would be no, because he was in fact a sect leader with no doubt piles of work to toil through. The morning had been early, and you’d spent last night writing as much self-indulgent garbage as possible to get it out of your system—and you’d wrangled your engineers all day, and kept up with Jiang Wanyin’s tour of his home, and… 

Shit, you were too full of feelings to really want to bother him right now. 

So, when Jiang Wanyin lingered, you let him go. 

Then when he disappeared from sight, you promptly regretted it. There would no doubt be another opportunity, but the small pit of impatience that occupied your chest decided to knock against your heart. 

To battle this feeling, you thumped your head on the wall and glared at the door he’d left through. “Shut up,” you muttered to yourself. 

Then, a moment later: “I need a nap.”

~

There were guards outside Lotus Pier, but there weren’t any during the daytime within the estate’s grounds. It took a few hallways’ worth of wandering, but you found an empty room that might’ve been for some sort of classes, with desks and ink brushes and stacks of books lined on the back shelves. Your eyes zeroed in on the divan at the far side of the room, and you helped yourself without preamble. 

Rain pattered on the roof of the building, calm and distant. There were windows in this room, but they were all sealed, making it dark and cozy once the door was shut as well. After collapsing on the firm cushion face-first, you squirmed onto your back and undid your stuffy outer robe. Slipping your arms from the sleeves, you returned to your stomach with a very graceful roll into the wall, then blanketed yourself in your outer robe. It was put to much better use when you could bury your nose in it, curling up on the divan with a light covering that had technically been covering you anyway.

Whatever! Technicalities. 

At the last second you remembered to kick off your shoes—struggled with them for a minute, more like—and finally you could let the sounds of rain and cool, serene air wash over you into your doze. 

… 

…… 

Doors slamming open and shut nudged you out of sleep. The noises came from a distance, but were getting increasingly closer. Mind embedded in a thick haystack of fatigue, you cracked your eyes open to observe the slits of light drifting through the closed door and windows, then abjectly decided that the noise wasn’t your problem. 

It very quickly became your problem as the swift and crisp footsteps came thmp-thmp-thmping down the hall and eventually arrived in front of your borrowed room. There was no time to wake up enough to worry about it before the door was slammed open, and Jiang Wanyin’s scowling face revealed itself, muted by the backdrop of light from outside. 

He looked angrier than usual. Hmm. Maybe he lost his reading glasses or something. Heh, he’d look really nice wearing glasses. 

His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, looking dead furious. “You,” he snarled, and you were so baffled at his tone that you pushed yourself up to sit. A wave of dizziness smacked you promptly, brow scrunching as you rubbed your temples in an effort to dispel it.

Storming over to your prone form on the divan, Jiang Wanyin didn’t bother to shut the door behind him before shouting at you. 

“What could have possibly possessed you to wander around unaccompanied?! You left your subordinates unsupervised for hours, didn’t tell a soul where you’d gone, and I find you half dressed in some random fucking room?!” 

Eyes wide, you took his berating in silence. It had really been that long? For it allegedly being hours since you decided on your nap, you didn’t feel very rested. The air was chilly and fizzed with uncomfortable energy, goosebumps flowing beneath your layers of clothes and a tuft of disheveled hair drifting into your face. Your heart thudded as it always did when you were woken too abruptly, but there was an odd layer of numbness that bounced his anger off of you instead of letting it absorb.

Jiang Wanyin sneered. “Of course you’d end up in a classroom of all places. Only a child would run off when they’re merely a guest.” 

“Hold on, now,” you protested, indignation rising higher than the dull flicker of shame, but Jiang Wanyin took another threatening step forward. He loomed over you, his shadow blotting out the torch-lit hallway behind him. 

“What would you have done if someone else had come, huh? What if the class hosted here had needed this room? What if a servant had mistaken you for an intruder? What if your staff had thought you kidnapped on our watch, what would that do to Lotus Pier’s reputation?” 

The questions came like a fleet of arrows, too fast for you to rebound. You could summon an answer for each of them, but the edge glinting knifelike behind his eyes told you that he wasn’t really looking for that. 

You didn’t know why, but Jiang Wanyin wanted a fight. 

Fuck that. His worries weren’t unreasonable, and you did want to apologize, but the hot flush of embarrassment in your cheeks was muted by the clinging cobwebs of sleep. Like hell you’d let anyone rip into you without pushing back. But you would not abandon reason, thank you very much. 

“First of all,” you interrupted his tirade, glowering at him when he had the audacity to look shocked. “I did tell my people that I was taking a break. Yeah, I should have asked my way around, but I didn’t see any servants at the time, and I was freaking tired, okay?” 

Jiang Wanyin seemed to swell with his indignation. “A poor excuse! You should know better than to—”

“Yeah, maybe I do know better! Maybe I’m not acting proper like I should, but what’s wrong with that? Nobody’s even around!”

“There’s always someone around!” Jiang Wanyin barked. His ring began to crackle, but stopped when his opposite hand reached for it, spinning the glinting metal around his finger to soothe his agitation. You tracked the movement, something unknown rising in your chest, and when you looked back at Jiang Wanyin’s face it was twisted with disdain. “It’s improper to undress outside of your own home. Shameless!”

You resisted the urge to reach for the nearest object and throw it. “How many layers am I forced to wear on a daily basis, rain or shine? I’d weigh half as much if I wore what I actually want, but the whole world seems to care so much about appearances!” 

The grievance spilled out unbidden. It had nothing to do with Jiang Wanyin, but you meant it. You’d always pushed back against society’s most arbitrary expectations in your own way, but that didn’t lessen the risks of speaking your mind to a near stranger. 

There was no way to tell what Jiang Wanyin thought of that, his face such a storm of reproach that you couldn’t pick out which emotions were for what. He seemed almost speechless from his own fury, pinning you with a stare like a strike of solidified lightning. 

“That’s quite the excuse for abandoning all responsibilities and disrespecting your host,” he spat. 

Heart beating so hard it ached behind your ribs, you fought the tide-rush of attraction and fear that came from facing Jiang Wanyin’s infamous temper. Maybe if you hadn’t just woken up, you’d have clung more responsibly to your self-preservation instincts, but he wore anger beautifully, and you hated being yelled at. 

You pushed yourself to the edge of the divan, outer robe slipping onto the cushion with a soft rustle. “I’ll apologize all you want, Jiang-zongzhu, and I won’t do it again, but what gives you the right to speak to a guest like that?” 

“This is my sect, that’s what gives me the right!” The razor of Jiang Wanyin’s gaze was nudging sharp, bloody lines into your skin, but you had to forge forward. 

“You know what,” you bristled, standing to face him like an adult, “I wouldn’t doubt that this is why people have warned—”

But you weren’t looking where you stepped, and your foot landed strangely on your discarded shoes. With a squawk, you stumbled and slipped, crashing forward— 

A pair of strong hands caught you, grip tight on your arm and waist. 

Both of you froze. 

Blood pumping explosively, it took conscious effort to keep your lungs functioning in a way that wouldn’t compromise your dignity. Your face was inches away from his bicep, nearly brushing the fabric covering taut muscle. 

The silence was heavy and only bore more weight on you as it persisted. You were pretty sure he wasn’t breathing. When your brain resumed communicating with your body, your head jerked up to gauge his reaction. 

Backlit by the torches from the hall, his expression took a moment to come into focus. 

That was definitely shock on his face. Maybe something else, but his hand tightened on your waist and your gaze reflexively flickered back down before you could discern what it was. 

Ohhhh fuck, ohhhhhh fuck, you were no pure maiden, but you hadn’t been held like this before. All your experience had come from boring dates with awkward men posturing for public approval, and even the ones with some charisma hadn’t been very invested when they’d tried their hand at enticing you.

This was innocent, an accident, but the strength in his fingers bled past your clothes and through your skin. Firm, warm, vibrant in a nameless way. 

A zip of energy raced up your spine and spread into your veins. That feeling rushed inward so tangibly that your breath faltered, collecting at your center where it swirled in your dantian. It was when your fingers twitched that you realized you had grasped onto Jiang Wanyin’s arm—and from that small movement came a pulse of your qi, subconscious and tentative. You didn’t know why you did it, or what it was meant to do. 

Jiang Wanyin shoved you away in a heartbeat, making you stumble back until your calves hit the divan. He breathed heavily, wide eyes meeting yours. This somehow felt worse than when he’d been screaming at you—at least then, you knew exactly what his thoughts had been. 

“You…” he growled, sending a more sensible shiver down your spine. His ring sparked violet, brighter than before, as if his anger had flourished too much to be contained within his own body. “You… you…” 

Mouth dry, your lips twisted themselves into a resemblance of a smile. “Me?” 

A vicious crackle of his ring cast you back into silence. “You have no idea,” he muttered to himself. Before you could figure out what the hell he meant by that, he lowered his fists, holding them tightly at his sides. 

“You know what I think?” he said lowly, eyes dark with displeasure and yet another thing you couldn’t distinguish. “I think you’re spoiled. You’ve never had to face the consequences of your actions, and you have no experience in the real world. I don’t think you know what you’re doing, and I was going to give you the chance to figure it out, but you’re clearly not taking this seriously.” 

Heat rose to your face, having to swallow down bile in order to speak. “Alright. You can think that if you want.” You matched his tone, quiet and angry, and you wished in vain that the chill in your voice would cool down your burning cheeks. “But you’d be wrong. You don’t know anything about me.” 

Left at an impasse, the two of you stared at each other. The ache in your throat made it harder by the second not to burst into furious tears—getting berated with such vitriol, and from someone like Jiang Wanyin, did you no favors in keeping control over your emotions. In the end, your saving grace was the darkness of the room and the lull of rain pattering on the roof, keeping you at the bowl’s edge of sleepiness despite your pounding heart. 

“Go to your group and get out of my sect,” Jiang Wanyin said finally. He sounded tired, and like the fire of his anger had dimmed to embers. 

No part of you wanted to go back into a business mindset right now, but when he turned to leave, you managed to scrape together some words. “Is that it?” 

Jiang Wanyin stopped, one foot out the door. “What?” he snapped. 

Deep breath. “Was that enough to call off our business?” 

His head swiveled towards you, and you were taken aback by the bewilderment on his face. It quickly melted into a glare that suggested he was pondering something, and you couldn’t help but fidget. The temperature had dropped after raining for so long, and you wished you could put your outer robe back on without him making a big deal out of it. 

“No,” he said after a long silence. Relief was a cup of water poured into a wide basin, but you would take the small wins. He regarded you for another moment, squinting suspiciously. “What, you wanted to cut off business with me?” 

Before he could spiral into an even crazier assumption, you held up your hands, your throat bubbling with near hysterical laughter. “No, no, no, oh my god. I’m not that unhinged. I really did just need a nap.” 

Lip curling in annoyance, Jiang Cheng stepped back into the room and leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. “Really shameless. Don’t pull that shit again. I don’t do business with brats.” 

If you were a cat, your tail would be bushing up. As an only child of people with power, nobody had dared to speak to you with outright belligerence; you even felt yourself welling with the need to profess your age. Weird. 

“I’m not a brat!” you said indignantly. “I’ve been an adult for quite some time!”

Jiang Wanyin lifted an elegant brow. Damn it, he was just too pretty to stay mad at! “Is that so? You give the impression of a slightly overgrown twelve-year-old.” 

He was teasing you… he was totally teasing you! 

The urge rose again. Why not? 

“I’m almost thirty!” you huffed. The declaration came out more childish than it was supposed to, and you glared at him accusingly. 

“Hm.” It wasn’t immediately obvious, but you managed to interpret his responding look as Generally Unimpressed. “So disrespectful of your elders, too,” he scorned. 

“Are you talking about yourself?” you said disbelievingly. “You barely look older than me. Don’t tell me you’re secretly past your first century.” Might explain his grouchiness, but you didn’t want to get officially banished by saying so. 

Rolling his eyes, he made to leave again. “I’ve got the better part of a decade on you, but even a month would suffice.” His sleeve flicked in one last implicit insult, and he disappeared into the hall. 

You started after him, then realized your shoes were still in a pile on the floor. After struggling with them, you snatched your outer robe from the divan and hurried into the hallway. Fortunately, Jiang Wanyin had waited, though the impatient scowl he leveled at you from down the hall made you question the virtues of following him. 

It occurred to you upon catching up with the sect leader that nobody had been attracted by his yelling from earlier. The unpopulated halls would be strange, but perhaps the echoing shouts also would have notified his disciples that he’d found you, his missing guest. 

Reminding yourself of his harsh words invited another full-body prickle of shame and resentment, but you stuffed it down for when you were safe at home. Instead, you shrugged your outer robes back over your shoulders and fiddled with them while you walked. 

The thread of conversation was long since snipped, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up the limp noodle it had become just to coax more witty banter from Jiang Wanyin. Even the single moment of levity from the oppressive mood was a blessing. That ache in your chest from bearing his anger still threatened to form a tear that could bleed, and you’d take as much time as you had to compose yourself. You needed to be at least somewhat functional in front of your employees. 

When you started to recognize your surroundings in the maze of open-air halls, you spoke up. “I’m sorry for causing trouble.” 

Jiang Wanyin didn’t spare you a glance. You turned the next corner after him, eyes trained on the ground. 

Finally, he said, “I don’t know what I expected.” 

No more words were exchanged between the two of you. 

~ 

For all that noise he made about how you abandoned your employees, they seemed to be having a jolly old time in the room where you left them. They’d been mingling with the workers from Lotus Pier after spending some hours mocking up blueprints and new designs for the buildings they’d seen. It was more shocking that nobody had broken out a stray jar of wine, but you preferred a sober team anyway. 

Jiang Wanyin had gestured you toward the conference room before abandoning you without a second glance. Apparently he trusted you to leave on your own, or something, which didn’t make much sense after the scene he made, but okay. Except a servant showed up a minute later to escort everyone to the gate, so more likely he just didn’t want to deal with you anymore. 

It was a small miracle that you hadn’t burst into tears after being reprimanded so harshly, and you took it as a blessing from some god up in the Heavens that you were numb enough to hold it together as you led your people to the carriages that had brought you here. Probably because of this, you passed out on your way back home, and didn’t even feel an inkling of annoyance when you got rained on as you departed the carriage a shichen later. 

The sticky, vacant feeling of your second nap carried you all the way until your father greeted you as you wandered to your quarters. When he asked how the meeting had gone, you suddenly realized that Jiang Wanyin hadn’t set up a date for your next business visit. He hadn’t even instructed a servant or disciple to do so in his stead. 

To your father, you said, “It was fine,” and felt grateful that it hadn’t been your mother who’d caught you right after your return. He let you go, under the assumption that you’d tell all later. 

In your chambers, you stood and stared at the rolling clouds through the window for a while. A bereft feeling settled in, filled only by the echoes of Jiang Wanyin’s scolding words. 

Spoiled. 

Disrespectful. 

Improper. 

They were all criticisms you’d weathered before, from people you liked less. 

“I don’t know what I expected.”

The tension swirling within you rose and expanded, and you allowed it to fill your throat until it found its mark. Your lips wobbled into a deep frown, your breath shuddered, and a tear finally slipped from your eye. Wiping it away only yielded another, trying to breathe deeply only invited a thin sob, and you released a self-deprecating huff as you dropped both hands to your sides in defeat. 

Tears dripped languidly down your cheeks, swollen and unhurried. You’d had the chance to prove yourself and failed. Hadn’t even technically failed, but had lost someone’s trust at the very least. So what? Meeting expectations was your least favorite part of your station in life. 

But you felt disappointed. Why were you disappointed? Disappointed in yourself? Disappointed in Jiang Wanyin? What did it matter? 

The heel of your palm came down on your temple and smacked firmly. Nihilism wouldn’t do you any favors. Of course you cared—of course things mattered to you. Your priority was to enjoy yourself, but you knew the stakes would always be low for someone like you. Born the way you were, to the family you’d been raised in. 

Face turned to the open window, a light breeze brought a smattering of rain-cooled air to your overheated skin. There was a garden outside your chambers, and a koi pond within it. When you were young, your parents had brought you to meet many people for many reasons, but around the time you’d formed your golden core, one such visit had been to an immortal cultivator. The opportunity was once in a lifetime, as the immortals of this world were infamously reclusive, but you’d been just young enough that a scarce few memories made it out from that day. 

“Your body is only so big, child, and your emotions are like these koi,” the immortal master had told you as you tugged at the grass near the pond that looked just like yours. “They must live somewhere. Do not judge them for how they swim in the space they have.”

Though the advice hadn’t made sense at the time, you’d unintentionally made it a part of yourself. You watched your koi, saw the ripples on the surface of the pond, and allowed your mind to quiet. 

Today, a storm had rolled in. The rain had subsided to a drizzle, but wind still battered the water’s surface. Thoughts kept coming, and you decided to accept that, too. 

It occurred to you that you’d lost a prime opportunity: This all would’ve been more dramatic if you’d gone to cry outside while the rain still pattered, but even that thought only brought you a moment’s smile. 

Something lingered about that fight with Jiang Wanyin. It was a thorn in your chest, but it was the puncture left behind, too. 

Usually, you would be able to go write angsty poetry about it, or pick up an instrument in your studio, or take a practice sword from your shelf of half-baked wood and metalwork and distract yourself with remembering some martial arts. But something about Jiang Wanyin’s sincerity as he looked you in the eyes and belittled you had extinguished the flame that could bring you catharsis. None of your usual activities stood out, nothing appealed to you. All you wanted to do was stare out at the rolling clouds and wait for tomorrow to come. 

And the rain ebbed before your tears did. You spent many silent minutes frowning out your bedroom window, feeling hollow at the lovely view of the back gardens. Even the small shred of afternoon sunlight that made the grass and leaves glitter with fresh dew couldn’t ease your mood. 

Collapsing face-first on your bed, your hands squeezed into fists then relaxed, repeat, repeat, repeat. 

Jiang Wanyin was as right as he was wrong. He hadn’t said anything that wasn’t already in the flow of gossip about you, and even a few of those criticisms were correct. Your obstinance against change just for the sake of expectations was a vice at times, you could admit. But that didn’t give him the right to say it to your face. Didn’t give him the right to yell, to pinpoint your flaws and drop them at your feet like a bundle of trash. 

Well… he was like you, in that regard. Blunt at the worst of times. 

“Fuck,” you mumbled into the bedsheets. You were going to have to apologize, weren’t you?

Chapter Text

It took one day for you to stop seething, one extra to get the simultaneous moping and yearning out of your system, and three more to hurdle the wall of dread over the prospect of speaking with Jiang Wanyin again. 

You were fine. Totally fine. You were smart and self-reflective. You knew how to take a hit (metaphorically). Jiang Wanyin could be mean—and definitely was mean—but he wasn’t unreasonable. If you returned to Lotus Pier and told him you understood what he had said, he… uh, maybe he wouldn’t forgive you. You didn’t know him well enough to predict that. But he would probably let you proceed with your business partnership! You hoped! 

Evading your parents’ questions was less fine. They became blatantly suspicious once you didn’t attend dinner the evening after your trip, and you had to tell them straight-up that you were planning on going back to Lotus Pier so they wouldn’t try to intervene. Lying that things went great was technically an option, but you weren’t built for it, nor did you often need to. Usually when someone pried into your personal business, you could simply tell them you didn’t want to have that conversation, and they’d either back off in understanding or get confused enough to stop asking questions. Though not with a perfect track record, the strategy was decently effective. 

When it came to your action plan, the best you could muster was a gift basket and a vague mental list of what to apologize for; you knew from experience that coming up with a speech would result in a complete blank when the time came to deliver it. As for the apology gifts, a journey was in order. 

First you roamed your family’s wares for something purple and floral you thought might go nice with Lotus Pier’s aesthetics. You settled on a tinted glass dish infused with real flowers, and without hesitation you stole it from its set and filed for a replacement to be crafted. 

Then, you took a day trip to visit your friend who was happily married to a woman whose family owned a variety of orchards. He was delighted but confused by your impromptu visit, and you spent a tea break with him and his wife before bribing them into letting you near the fruit-bearing trees. After wandering around with unofficial supervision from the workers out in the fields (and profuse gratitude toward your minuscule cultivation for keeping you cool and unburnt for the few hours you spent in the hot sun), you were laden with a small harvest of ripe plums and mangoes to take home. The color scheme of your gift basket was made a bit strange by the mangoes, but it was the intention that mattered. 

For a finishing touch, you fumbled through twelve different attempts at painting Jiang Wanyin’s nephew’s dog from memory. In some, you sketched Jin Ling and Jiang Wanyin alongside Fairy, but you weren’t particularly good at drawing people and ultimately scrapped the idea and the drafts. The most successful version ended up looking like a mock-up family portrait, which amused you enough to keep it pinned on the wall to dry among your proudest or funniest work. What made it into the basket was a minimalistic portrait of the fluffy spirit dog sitting within the most basic background of sun and grass that you could manage. It wasn’t the most expert painting in the world, but you thought it was cute enough that Jiang Wanyin probably wouldn’t set it aflame in front of you. 

By the time your adventure concluded, it was approaching a full week since you’d last met Jiang Wanyin, and you were enjoying yourself so much that you almost lost track of your goal. With your nerves mostly fortified, you took your personal carriage to Lotus Pier, and you swept into town in the early afternoon. 

Going by yourself was a bit different than the two times prior. Free from the bustle of an early morning and an official appointment, you could linger outside the prominent gates of the cultivation sect. 

It hadn’t processed until now just how lively the docks were outside Lotus Pier. Stalls of all kinds were smattered about, selling wares and offering food that smelled as heavenly as it looked, when you could pick it out among the crowd. You’d always had the impression that cultivation sects were above secular affairs, but Yunmeng Jiang didn’t seem to adhere to that aloof standard. Even last time, you hadn’t asked whether Jiang Wanyin’s renovators were employed within Lotus Pier or outsourced from the surrounding area. 

Regardless of the answer, you could see a few stray children running inside the open gates as you stood with your heavy basket, and the guards completely ignored them. Before, you’d assumed your entourage was allowed in because your visits were expected and your family crest was worn proudly on your lapel, as it was now. But now you were realizing that Lotus Pier was so integrated with the locals that they simply didn’t care who entered—so long as they weren’t a threat or too much of a disturbance. 

Then you walked up to the gates and the guards did stop you, stepping in front of the open entrance with their spears crossed. They allowed in the people they recognized, then. Or maybe your basket was suspicious. 

“I’m here to see Jiang-zongzhu,” you explained, hoisting the basket onto your thigh for support. The smooth, sky-blue cloth covering the contents shimmered beneath the sun. “I don’t need a whole audience with him, just a short conversation, preferably.” 

For a moment as the guards eyed you and your basket, you thought they might turn you away. You’d come unannounced, after all. Dropping it off with a hasty note was less effective than an in-person apology, but you’d do what you had to. 

“We have instructions to inform Jiang-zongzhu of your arrival,” one of the guards said abruptly. Her voice was bored, but her eyes were sharp, and you got the sense that she was testing your response. 

Well… Jiang Wanyin did say a while back that you were welcome in Lotus Pier anytime… but you had considered the possibility that he would revoke that privilege after the trouble you caused last time. 

But, hold up—did she say that he’d requested to be notified? Like, took the initiative instead of waiting for you to crawl back and beg for entry?! 

After a beat of surprise, you said, “Oh. Great?” The bamboo strips on the basket’s handle were digging into your wrist as you held it. “So, should I wait for him somewhere, or…?” 

A silent conversation traveled between the two guards blocking the open gate. While you waited, another trio of children dashed straight under their spears, giggling like maniacs. A parent appeared in pursuit of them a moment later, choosing the route around the guards rather than under, and you couldn’t help but smile after the little ones’ toddling forms. 

“Jiang-zongzhu’s schedule is often full, but we’ll see if he can make time,” the second guard said. When he turned toward the entrance, he waved for you to follow. “Hold down the fort, shimei.” 

“Like there’s anything to hold down,” the first guard muttered, but she didn’t glance twice at you as you passed into the sect. 

The guard leading you through the winding docks and graceful pavilions spoke more openly once he was out of earshot from his shimei. “Sometimes Jiang-zongzhu oversees training even when he doesn’t need to, so that’s your best bet,” he explained. A flock of swallows chirped their way overhead, casting a rain shower of shadows across the field. “What’s in the basket? Food? Money?” 

You lifted your voice over the ebbing and flowing clamor of shouts and clashing swords. “I’d be begging to be robbed if I carried around a basket of money!” 

“Isn’t that what the covering is for?” 

Two children dressed in sect robes sprinted down the hall, one pausing to greet the guard with a squeaky shout of “Hello, Meiran-gege!” before barreling after his shijie. This was how you learned his name, though you didn’t know which half, and you definitely weren’t going to add “gege” with your own mouth. 

“I might’ve been a bother to Jiang-zongzhu on my last visit,” you admitted to Meiran. “I brought a few things as an apology. And some fruit.” 

Meiran visibly suppressed a leap of excitement over the mention of fruit. “Interesting,” he said coolly. “What kind?” 

While you relayed the tale of your side quest at your friend’s orchard, you took some amusement and relief that Meiran’s attention seemed to skip over your debacle with his sect leader. Still, a needle of curiosity pricked at you until you followed up your own story with a question. 

“Pardon me asking, but does Jiang-zongzhu…” You hesitated, steps pausing for long enough that Meiran now walked a full few steps ahead. “When you guys have guests, does he have a good relationship with them? Does he, uh, banish people often?” 

When Meiran looked back, he slowed his pace and peered at you, brow pinched. “Uh, sometimes, I guess?” he said quizzically. “Why, did he banish you? I’ll have to make you leave if he did. I didn’t hear about it, though, and that’s kind of my job?” 

Shaking your head frantically, you hurried to explain, “No, not at all. It’s just, he yelled at me last time I was here, so I sort of thought… you know.” 

For some reason, Meiran’s pinched expression melted into a grin. “Ah, don’t mind Jiang-zongzhu, he’s just like that. All the rumors about his temper are true, but he doesn’t actually do anything to anyone unless they’ve violated a serious rule. Though, oh man, you should see his face during the discussion conferences when they’re held here—you can just see that he’d kick out everyone in the jianghu but his nephew if he had his way.” 

A thread of relief began to weave into the tear you vaguely realized had opened up in your chest. “Really? He makes it that obvious?” Thinking about it, Jiang Wanyin didn’t seem like the type to hold back on his opinions—though, when politics came into play, it was certainly a different matter. 

“Our zongzhu couldn’t hide an emotion if he tried,” Meiran said fondly. The two of you stopped a few steps later, standing on the sidelines of a courtyard presently being used for training. Meiran looked surprised that Jiang Wanyin was nowhere to be found, for some reason. The disciples training were all preteens, from what you could see among the flurry of footwork and practice swords. “Ah, sit tight, Miss. I’ll look around for him.” 

Once you thanked Meiran, you settled with your back to the nearest pillar which held up the roof of the building behind you. As the guard made his way around the boisterous grounds, your eyes followed the natural path to observe the youths in their training session. 

There was much to ponder from what Meiran said, but you allowed those thoughts to retreat while you focused on the thumping of the wooden swords and clumsily improving footwork, all spread in a sort of controlled chaos before you. The instructor, a senior disciple perhaps, was roaming the array of practicing students and shouting critiques whenever he found one to make. Interestingly, the whole group of students would freeze when their teacher spoke, as if of one mind—and then they'd resume in a whirl of qi and weapons. 

Now that you had a moment to yourself, with no responsibilities and no one nearby for distraction, you realized something. That extra spark you felt every time you visited Lotus Pier, the feeling you had attributed to combined nerves and awe… was moving. Shifting, evolving. 

Moved, shifted, and evolved as you watched the disciples train. 

Oh. 

You could sense their qi. Something warm and alive that tugged at you from your core, something fizzy like sea foam and shining like polished jade. 

Without thinking, you lifted your weight from the pillar at your back and fixed your eyes on one from the group, a girl with freckles and an almost angry mien but for the way she laughed when her wooden sword clashed with her opponent’s. Watching intently, your breath deepened, and your fingers uncurled until the basket of offerings slipped onto the grass with a soft thump. You stepped forward until you had enough space to move, and your body took over from there. 

Sometimes, when you ached for music but couldn’t actualize the symphonies inside your head, you went to one of the many groups within your city who practiced day after day for the next festival or ritual for the gods. Dancers and musicians integrated themselves into one rehearsal, simple and without costume, but mistakes were few and far between. After paying for the privilege of observation, you’d stand on the sidelines and watch them dance, and eventually you’d start to dance in tandem. Your steps were always careful and often inaccurate, but you learned to improvise, to move how you could and enjoy that it was you who moved and saw and listened. After all, no one spared their attention for you—invisible woman, quiet and plain, learning the steps they could make with their eyes closed, humming to a melody they could sing in their sleep. 

Watching the young cultivators learn their lifelong craft was like this. There were mistakes, the person who led them made corrections, the students moved in tandem and in entropy, everything flowed as one and as many. The texts you had read, philosophy and worship and cultivation, did not compare to the comprehension of viewing the real thing. 

Alive. You felt it. 

Slowly, with caution and a quiet mind, you began to move. Your arms lifted and extended into a delicate point, as if they were the sword you didn’t own, as if becoming an instrument themselves; your feet took the position you caught whenever the students paused mid-fight, a careful weightlessness that showed attention to every minuscule exertion of their energy. All was the self, and the self was nothing. When you moved, your eyes closed, an improvisation and at once a memory.

For however long, you mirrored what you saw, the foot-thumps of learning lightness almost like a rhythm and your imitation of their journey almost like a dance. The distant cries of birds became flutes, the meeting of blunt blades became drums; you could almost hear music. Ringing and soaring, vibrating through your bones and sinking inward—it was in your head, your heart, your center. It lit your golden core in a way you’d never felt. If you did it again, day and day and day, you could become what warriors knew they could be. 

And in an instant, you heard a pointed cough, and your entire body became an aperture. 

Just for a moment. You flashed hot as you jumped in shock, vertigo nearly sending you to the ground before you found your balance with a hand clutched over your pounding heart. 

Whipping around, you saw Jiang Wanyin staring at you just off the threshold behind him, arms folded. His expression appeared to be at the crash landing of a fall, now wearing his familiar scowl; something you couldn’t interpret. 

“Jiang-zongzhu,” you said breathlessly. You straightened up, hands smoothing the newly formed wrinkles in your robe. “I stayed where I was told this time.” 

Jiang Wanyin’s lips twitched. “A basic instruction anyone with spatial awareness can follow.” 

Despite the dig, you couldn’t help but smile. 

When he made no move to approach, you glanced around and hurried to pick up your discarded basket. “I’m sorry to come unannounced, but I would like to offer this set of small gifts as an apology for causing trouble in my last visit.” Head bowed, you offered the basket and waited for him to take it. 

The seconds ticked by, gravity tugging at the carrier in your hands until your arms began to tense. Brow furrowed, you peeked up and saw Jiang Wanyin standing no closer. He watched you with a twist to his mouth that almost resembled a smile. 

Was he… fucking with you? He was fucking with you, right? 

“Is…” You found that your throat was dry. “Is this one’s apology not accepted?” 

Jiang Wanyin hummed, a barely-there undertone to the constant shouts of the disciples nearby. “You may have to be more specific,” he drawled, not sparing a glance at your proffered basket. “This Miss seems to be apologizing for making trouble, yet she arrives at my gates without forewarning and asks to be entertained while I have a sect to run. Exactly what apology is being made?” 

His voice was cool and dismissive, but the way he looked at you was unwavering. A shiver crept up your spine, and suddenly it became difficult to maintain eye contact. 

“I don’t need to be entertained,” you said, since that was the easiest part to answer. “If Jiang-zongzhu’s invitation is still open, I would like to observe your home to deepen my understanding of its aesthetics. I wouldn’t dare take up more of an esteemed sect leader’s time than needed.” 

“Hm.” Jiang Wanyin made an expectant gesture. 

That was better than nothing. Though your arms were beginning to ache, you lowered yourself into a deeper bow with the basket held firm, almost parallel to the ground. 

“I apologize for disrespecting Jiang-zongzhu and his sect by neglecting my staff and leaving the area of supervision to take my rest. It was irresponsible and short-sighted, and I will not act so selfishly in the future. If Jiang-zongzhu is willing to continue working with my family, I would like him to receive these gifts as a gesture of my sincerity.” 

The words tumbled from you like a practiced speech, but you barely heard them. In times like these, whatever came from your mouth was what you got; you practically had no say. It was a fifty-fifty chance whether you’d make any sense at all. 

Fortunately, the deities took mercy on you today and granted your tongue the steadiness it needed to be articulate. Jiang Wanyin made you wait just long enough that your arms started shaking, and then his footsteps approached as quiet rustles of the grass. His shoes came into view, and the basket was lifted gently from your grasp. 

Arms falling to your sides in relief, you straightened up and beamed at him without thinking. For half a second Jiang Wanyin appeared startled, but when you blinked and his face was in its perpetual frown, you thought it must have been a figment of your imagination. He stepped back, retreating to his previous spot closer to the building than to you.

“You carried this unwieldy thing all the way here?” he muttered, one hand moving to support the basket from the bottom. 

Unsure the purpose of this question, you nodded. 

Jiang Wanyin glanced up, then lowered his eyes as he lifted the edge of the cloth to peer inside the basket. 

“Fruit?” he said dubiously. 

A strike of anxiety made your knees a bit weak. “Yes. Of high quality—I can vouch for it.” You shifted between your feet, now restless. “There‘s a couple other things, too.” 

It didn’t matter where or when or even whether Jiang Wanyin bothered to look at your gifts. Since he had accepted the offering and the apology by proxy, your work was technically done. But his long, nimble fingers took the edge of the cloth cover and folded it back, deigning to get it over with. 

The lovely bowl was the centerpiece, sort of. It was positioned at the bottom of the basket, your select fruits of appropriate ripeness piled atop to the point of overflowing. If and when Jiang Wanyin parsed through the assorted mangoes and plums, your silly little painting laid at the bottom of the bowl, slightly crinkled by the uneven weight of the fruit, but serving its purpose as a bonus for accepting your gift. 

It was… honestly mostly a fruit basket. Would last an hour to a week depending on whether Jiang Wanyin shared. But the bowl wouldn’t be so ephemeral! Nor would the painting if Jiang Wanyin didn’t light it ablaze the moment he saw it!

He prodded at the plums and mangoes, rolling them around the basket and testing their softness with a sharp, judgmental stare. When he paused mid-motion, your heart thumped; he must have uncovered a sliver of the paper underneath all that fruit. 

With a delicate air that you hadn’t anticipated (you didn’t know how to feel about it), he pulled out the page with one corner pinched between his fingers. It was upside down and backwards, so you had the pleasure and deep anxiety of watching his reaction in real time. 

Jiang Wanyin righted the page, and his eyebrows lifted immediately. Heart pounding, you clasped your fingers together and offered a wan smile when his gaze flicked up to yours. 

Wow, he looked extra unimpressed. It was kind of funny, and you chewed on your lip to stop from laughing. 

Eyes narrowing, Jiang Wanyin glanced between you and your magnificent and painterly rendition of his nephew’s dog. “And what value would you price this at, guniang?” he said dryly. 

A laugh squeezed itself out of you anyway. “Uh. Free? It’s just a little something extra. I thought you or Jin Ling might appreciate it. I mean, Jin-zongzhu. If you wanted to show him. Since it’s yours now.” 

Yeah, you’d already used up your ability to articulate under duress for the day. Luck couldn’t carry you forever. 

After a while of seemingly trying to pressure you out of your awkward smile (an endeavor born to fail), Jiang Wanyin returned the painting into the basket and folded the cloth back over. 

“Follow me,” he ordered, then set off walking without waiting for a response. 

Left with no other choice and a steadily rising sense of hope, you obeyed. 

Chapter Text

It felt presumptuous to fall into step beside him, so you treaded a few paces behind. The field of little disciples disappeared from view, your presence no doubt left unnoticed as you followed the sect leader until even their noise couldn’t reach your ears. Deep within the array of buildings, you eventually came to a room that must be Jiang Wanyin’s office. He led you through the door and placed the basket on the floor beside his desk. 

Upon entering, you couldn’t help but glance around. The desk was crafted from dark, sturdy wood, and spanned nearly half the room’s length. There were piles of paperwork stacked atop it with a semblance of organized chaos, but the sheer quantity made you wince in sympathy. Shelves full of books and artifacts lined the walls, things subtle and strange, some you felt you might’ve read about back in your teens. The tiny merchant in your brain (which sounded suspiciously like your mother) leapt to its feet and began chattering in your ear with improvements to the layout and design of those basic wooden planks that made up the shelves—a leaf-inspired beam here, floral highlights there…

Tearing your eyes away before any unsolicited thoughts could escape, you turned your head this way and that only to find nowhere for you to sit. This room must be solely for Jiang Wanyin’s work, then, with no guests intended. At least not for prolonged visits. 

At a loss for why he hadn’t dismissed you already, you stayed near the door and only closed it when he gave you a pointed glare. Not an aggressive one—you were pretty sure you were getting better at interpreting his different scowls. Or maybe it was wishful thinking. As long as he wasn’t yelling at you, you didn’t care. 

The silence was unsettling, though. 

Jiang Wanyin faced you, hands on his hips, straight-backed and intimidating. His eyes were stormy, and you stood midway across the room, feeling every millimeter of distance. You had no idea what he was thinking and never would, if he didn’t speak up. 

… Was Jiang Wanyin the type to speak up? If you thought about it, it didn’t seem likely. Maybe if he was truly still mad he’d jump on the opportunity to spout insults, but he was only standing there, staring you down. Since he’d invited you—ordered, rather—into his office, there was something still on his mind, and it was apparently up to you to figure it out. 

Maybe… 

“Jiang-zongzhu,” you said, cautious and testing. Your voice came out a bit hoarse, so you cleared your throat. 

His gaze didn’t falter. 

Despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, small and tentative. Of everything that had filled your head after he’d berated you on your last meeting, one surfaced now. It floated to the forefront of your mind, making ripples until you reached out and grasped it. 

“One time,” you began, head tilting back as you recalled the memory, “when I was seventeen, I think: There was a showcase, one that happens every few years. It’s a merchant thing. I volunteered to run my family’s booth as an excuse to attend, since I would’ve stayed home otherwise. Thought it couldn’t be that hard.” 

You paused, eyes flitting to the bookend of the shelves to spurn the urge to glance at him. When nothing happened, not the creak of a floorboard or a breath to interrupt, you continued. 

“I hadn’t prepared enough, but, like I said, y’know, I thought I could breeze through it. Long story short, I made too many assumptions and didn’t ask for help, and a shit ton of things went wrong. My parents had to step in afterward to save face with our craftsmen and the other merchants.” An audible breath vented through your lips and teeth, softening your own exasperation. “I don’t even remember what we were selling. Storage type of things, I think.” 

Your eyes dropped to the floor, feeling warm and uncomfortable, like being in the sun for too long. But you needed its light to see, to live your days through. “My parents let me fail, you know. They didn’t leave me on my own at the showcase, but they didn’t interfere and just networked while watching over me. Ah, shit,” you muttered, a dry laugh escaping, “that’s probably why it was so easy to smooth things over. They probably told everyone I was trying to run things myself, just a kid. And, well, I’ve always been a failure in that right.” 

Something swelled in your throat. No, you knew what it was—bitterness, but one you swallowed daily like medicine. It kept your sense of self intact. And, now, you swallowed it again. 

Lifting your gaze, you looked straight at Jiang Wanyin, unsmiling eyes to unsmiling eyes. “This is the first project I’ve taken on since then, Jiang-zongzhu. If I may be bold, I must request that you don’t hold my incompetencies against my family. It’s all mine, but my blunders aren’t malicious.” 

Though your words had regained their sense of flow, something still felt like it was missing. Like you were on the precipice of his begrudging acceptance, in need of a push like teeth through the candy coating of tanghulu. 

It came to you like your words had. Pride didn’t cling to you like it did others—water dissolving salt, evaporating when boiled. 

Chin up, you sank to your knees, then bowed low until your forehead touched the ground. The tiniest scuff of a shoe rang against the clean floor, but the sound choked itself and disappeared. “I already apologized,” you said, smile and strain audible alike, “but all the forgiveness I need is Jiang-zongzhu’s willingness to work with my family. I will accept any consequence Jiang-zongzhu deems fit.” 

As you breathed, the faint scent of wood and moss drifted into your lungs. It was a comfortable, homey sensation that settled your heart even as you remained prostrated on the ground. Every moment of the silence felt exactly as long as it was; like this was the right call, no matter his response. 

And when he gave it, everything else faded into the background. 

“You,” Jiang Wanyin muttered, almost absent, “are so willing to degrade yourself unprompted.” There was a question in his voice that spurred you to relax and lift yourself to a kneel. 

“I’m not,” you said simply, looking him in the eyes. “I always do whatever I want. But I don’t want to hurt people, or cause trouble. And I’m sorry.” 

Jaw clenching, Jiang Wanyin stared back. Then he jerked his head to the side. “Stand up,” he snapped. “Never kneel in front of me again. Ridiculous.” 

Disgust filled his voice, the twist of his lips vicious yet somehow charming. You couldn’t hold in your laughter, but you stood up and bowed gratefully. “Thanking Jiang-zongzhu for his grace and hospitality.” 

If you were slightly less mature (or slightly better friends with him), you’d put some teasing in your voice, but you kept it straight this time. Jiang Wanyin huffed, apparently self-aware enough to understand the joke regardless. “Well, thank you so much for the sweet anecdote about your parents letting you humiliate yourself,” he said sarcastically. “And then cleaning up after your mess. Very nice to know you have it both ways.” 

His hostility made you blink. He still wasn’t making eye contact. 

“Um…” You peered at him cautiously. “That wasn’t the point of the story?” 

Jiang Wanyin scoffed. “Well, that was the standout part.” 

Finally turning to look at you, he gave you a glare with more vitriol than you anticipated. Somehow, the whiplash made you curious rather than offended. You’d have to unpack that later, when you had a moment to yourself. 

Taking a deep breath, you shuffled the tiniest step toward him. “Last time… you said I never face consequences or take anything seriously. I’ll admit that there are fewer consequences for me, and, um, I’m definitely more go-with-the-flow than I should be, but…” 

Okay, this was harder than you thought. It took a moment to find the words, but you managed, even under the aggressive weight of his attention. “… I think it only takes one bad experience to ruin something for someone. As, like, a general thing, but. That’s what it felt like, nearly tanking my family’s reliability for an important showcase. I might’ve been overcompensating ever since then—not, like, afraid of commitment, but… sort of… avoiding being responsible for anything that matters.” 

Sometime during your speech, Jiang Wanyin had started mindlessly spinning his ring, eyes cast to the side. But you could tell he was still paying attention; figured he wouldn’t let you talk so long if he didn’t care to hear it. The impulsive, rhythmic movement of his fingers on metal calmed you by proxy. 

“All that to say…” You mindfully relaxed your shoulders, resisting the irrational urge to take another step forward, then more, close enough to touch. “I haven’t had true responsibility over anything for a long time. And that was by design. But… I am serious about what I do. About what I can do. I want to work with you, Jiang-zongzhu.” 

Dark eyes finally flickered toward you, but you couldn’t be certain what prompted it. You slowed your breath, minimizing the sound you produced as if keeping the room quiet would gain his favor. Head bowed, you kept your eyes trained on him and waited for his final verdict. 

His fingers stilled. “I already said our business would proceed, didn’t I?” he said stiffly. “Now stop apologizing. That’s an order from your client.” Then, for good measure, he added, “It gets annoying.” 

Oh, he definitely meant that. That seemed to be his own form of sincerity—showing irritation on his sleeve as if it was his heart. Again that feeling swelled, the urge to know more, and you had to let it subside. 

“As you wish,” you murmured. After another moment of waiting, it didn’t seem like he was going to speak again (was this a test…?), so you straightened up fully, a hesitant smile on your lips. “So, we ought to set up our next meeting, right? Regarding the financial exchange for construction and installment, ah… if that’s what comes next. I think? Would you like me to bring prototypes for next time? Would that be more convenient? That would push it out a few more weeks, though, just so you know. Otherwise, blueprints? Or should we talk finances before deciding which materials—”

Jiang Wanyin held up his hand, and your mouth snapped shut. “Just come back in another two weeks, I don’t care. I’ll bring my treasurer.” 

Hand slipping into the fold of his robe, he lit a talisman and turned his face to the door expectantly. You took the hint and bowed, beginning to retreat—or, you thought you did, until Jiang Wanyin snapped, “Where the fuck are you going? I just called my attendant.” 

You stopped in your tracks. “Oh.” 

He gestured impatiently, and you stepped to the side, glancing between Jiang Wanyin and the door. 

The quiet and stillness had just settled into something comfortable when footsteps hurried down the hall and Xiao Yinhua burst in. “Jiang-zongzhu!” they said breathlessly. “I was just—” They caught your eye and unconsciously adjusted their glasses, putting on a more serious front. “What do you need, Zongzhu?” 

You couldn’t help but smile. Though you’d only met once or twice, you were fond of them; it brought you a strange sense of nostalgia to see their attempts at seriousness when they clearly hadn’t grown into their clunky teenage limbs yet. 

“Xiao Yinhua,” Jiang Wanyin addressed them. “When is Guang Mao available within the next month?” 

Guang Mao… Guang Mao… Oh! Yunmeng Jiang’s treasurer! You could totally remember people’s names.

Wide eyes darting between you and their sect leader, Xiao Yinhua fumbled for a pouch on their belt—one of many, you noticed as they sorted through the colorful cluster. Out of the deep pink bag they plucked, Xiao Yinhua produced a scroll that was much longer than the compact pouch would imply. 

Noticing your intrigued stare, Jiang Wanyin spoke over the sound of Xiao Yinhua muttering to themself as they pored through the scribbles on their scroll. “What, never seen a qiankun bag before?” 

You shook your head. “If it’s a cultivation tool, then no wonder,” you remarked. Unbeknownst to the other two, every single fiber of your being itched to get your hands on it. 

Jiang Wanyin regarded you for a moment, but before you could decipher his look, Xiao Yinhua waved their hand in their sect leader’s direction. “Found it!” 

“It” was Guang Mao’s lengthy schedule. By listening to Xiao Yinhua speak with Jiang Wanyin, you discovered that it was connected via a rune to another scroll in the treasurer’s possession, and alterations showed up on both versions when Guang Mao wrote on her copy. First the bottomless pouch, and now this—cultivation was so freaking cool! 

A few minutes of back-and-forth passed, and you ended up with Jiang Wanyin’s initial decision: two weeks, give or take. When it came to pass, you owed Jiang Wanyin and his subordinates the full list of products they’d commissioned thus far, the blueprints that would be ready by then, and the average pricing for the materials and labor you expected to expend for this project. You’d have to speak with Guang Mao directly (which you would, since she’d be at the next consultation!) regarding when and how Yunmeng Jiang would provide payment, and you looked forward to meeting her in person. Those initial letters you’d exchanged with the treasurer were brief, but she seemed like an efficient woman with dry humor. How did her personality mesh with Jiang Wanyin’s, you wondered? That would be a treat for next time. 

Hopes lifted at last, you took the sect leader’s order to follow Xiao Yinhua out of his office. With one last glance over your shoulder, you savored the parting view of Jiang Wanyin taking an elegant seat behind his desk, eyes trained on you, and disappeared from his sight.

Chapter Text

Jiang Wanyin had given permission to lurk around Lotus Pier so long as Xiao Yinhua was available to supervise. Left to your own devices, you wandered around until you reached the training grounds from before—now empty. 

“Hey, Xiao-Hua?” you piped up, gazing absentmindedly at the spotless pavilion. Xiao Yinhua startled, but you ignored their reaction to the deeply presumptuous nickname; they seemed like the type to be confused rather than uncomfortable. “What’re the names of the guards out at the gate? One of them brought me here earlier, before I met with your zongzhu.” 

They shoved their glasses up the bridge of their nose. “Oh! Um, I don’t—I mean, I’ve only been at Jiang-zongzhu’s side for about a year, so I don’t remember the guard rotation yet… Let me just…” 

Fumbling for the same qiankun bag as before, Xiao Yinhua retrieved a booklet titled with handwriting even worse than your mother’s and began to flip through it. Their thumb nail magnetized to their front teeth between flips, and you were once again distracted by the intrigue of the bottomless pouch at their hip. 

Now that you gave it some thought, you’d read about these things before; you couldn’t remember details since it’d been so long, and the list of deeply interesting cultivation materials only expanded every time you opened a new book on the topic. Faced with a whole belt-full of qiankun pouches, who wouldn’t be tempted to snag one for some playful experimentation? Even giving it a little prod with a fingertip might instantly unravel the goodwill you’d afforded with Jiang Wanyin, but it wasn’t like he was here to see…

“Right now…” Xiao Yinhua said distractedly, their finger running down the length of the page. “… We have… Ke Qiying…” 

The stoic female guard, presumably… 

“… And… Wu Meiran on duty.” 

Ah! Given name! 

“It was Wu-xiong who escorted me,” you announced. “He’s pretty cool.” 

Xiao Yinhua eyed you with an unreadable quirk to their lips as they stowed away the schedule book. “He is…” 

Sensing their trepidation, you patted the teen on the shoulder. “No need to speak just for the sake of it. I was just making a comment.” 

Fake it till you make it—you gave them an expectant look as if you had bestowed upon them priceless advice, watching as they floundered for another response before visibly processing your words. Once they nodded in confused acceptance, you nodded in return, then promptly bothered them again. 

“So, qiankun pouches, huh?” you said casually. 

Oddly, Xiao Yinhua had an immediate reaction to that. They stuttered backward, looking like you just stepped on their foot. “I’m—very sorry, Miss, but I have been instructed not to let you touch anything. Please forgive this lowly one…” 

Brow furrowed, you stared at how Xiao Yinhua was giving you a look like a kicked puppy. Their dark, wispy hair and peach fuzz did make them look kind of fluffy. “Oh.” 

Well, obviously that order came from Jiang Wanyin. When had he even given it?! 

“It’s alright,” you assured, though you were mildly offended at the lack of faith in you. “I was just curious, but there’s nothing to be done if Jiang-zongzhu doesn’t want me bothering you.” 

Xiao Yinhua shifted between their feet uncomfortably, then caught themself mid-fidget and stood straight. “That’s not really what the order was about…” they mumbled. 

But no matter how much you asked what they meant thereafter, Xiao Yinhua would not budge. Your curiosity flared, but you were forced to move on. 

The two of you made your way to the docks, and you settled to observe the peaceful environment in silence. Every so often you would think of a question, and Xiao Yinhua would answer, losing tension the longer you went without acting particularly strange. Soon enough, they went back to whatever duties they could maintain while keeping within ten steps of you, mumbling to themself all the while. 

While you somehow lacked the foresight to bring any note-taking materials, being in Lotus Pier felt good. The areas bustling with disciples were rejuvenating, and the quiet spaces were tranquil. Inspiration formed palm-sized bubbles the more you walked around, the ideas small enough to tuck away without forgetting them for later. 

As you edged at the vast lake itself, there were plumes of students diving, and you remembered Jiang Wanyin’s comment about plucking lotus pods. You nearly asked Xiao Yinhua if the season had arrived, but something blocked your tongue. In the end, you fell into a contemplative silence while you trailed down the winding paths of the nearest dock. 

The view of the lake widened the further out you walked, engulfing your vision with dazzling blues and greens. The pink-purples of the lotus blossoms unfurled like dollops of fine paints—dots floating on the lake like individual petals. If you’d brought the materials, you might’ve spent the rest of your day out here, mixing paints into the perfect shade and skimming onto your canvas the colors of Lotus Pier in the abstract. Maybe Xiao Yinhua would fetch you art supplies if you asked, but you’d have to go with them, and that would crush the mood like a grape. For now, you were content to gaze upon the peaceful waters and absorb the air of serenity. 

But since you had noticed it earlier, the latent hum of spiritual energy made itself known as you stood still. This was the closest you could get to proper meditation—you always had some resistance to it, but standing before something so simple yet so grand as this lake brimming with vitality, you could understand the appeal for once. 

Long poles lifted this section of the dock decently far from the water, supporting your weight easily as you sank to your knees and took a deep breath of fresh air. Very good. Tasty, even. It was a shame your legs were too short to skim the water even if you removed your footwear and stretched as far as you could go. 

You sensed Xiao Yinhua hovering behind you, their uncertainty palpable. Part of you was tempted to dismiss them to their duties in spite of Jiang Wanyin’s instruction, not wanting to bore them with your whims. Another part was embarrassingly close to asking more about their sect leader. Like what his family was like. Everyone knew he was orphaned during the Sunshot Campaign, but the details beyond that blurred beneath the summer sun. 

When you turned to ask Xiao Yinhua something benign, you caught sight of Jiang Wanyin from across the docks. 

How convenient! 

He appeared to be sufferingly mid-conversation with an unaffiliated auntie who’d wandered into Lotus Pier. (Though nicely dressed, she wasn’t adorned in Yunmeng Jiang’s regal purples, so you could only assume.) Every couple seconds he’d take a furtive glance around, his attempts to escape growing more exaggerated. After watching for a while in distant amusement, your eyes naturally caught Jiang Wanyin’s during another one of his desperate bids for escape. 

Regardless of whether you’d be able to talk to him again today, you waved, legs swinging idly over the edge of the dock. The movement attracted the older woman’s attention as well, and you grinned at the ever-deepening scowl on Jiang Wanyin’s face. His eyes did something strange where they darted between your seated form and the lady now giving you an unimpressed once-over from afar, his eyebrows working aggressively. It was then that Xiao Yinhua moved closer and urged you to stand. 

“Please heed Jiang-zongzhu’s summons,” they muttered, making a nervous flapping motion with their hand where the other two couldn’t see. 

Though you followed their instruction and got to your feet, you couldn’t help but laugh. “That was Jiang-zongzhu’s attempt at calling me over?” 

All Xiao Yinhua could do was offer a twitchy smile as they herded you across the zigzagging docks to greet their sect leader. However, when you arrived within throwing distance of Jiang Wanyin and the unidentified auntie, the presence beside you suddenly disappeared. You turned your head and watched for a couple seconds as Xiao Yinhua did their best attempt at pretending not to flee; based on the scheduling booklet in their hand and their fingers aggressively adjusting their glasses, they were probably going for “much too busy to deal with this situation.” 

So, you were on your own. 

“Jiang-zongzhu,” you greeted with a polite fold of your hands. “Long time no see. Half a shichen, maybe?” 

Both Jiang Wanyin and his elegantly middle-aged companion appeared subtly affronted. Good progress, to be honest—if your manners had been outright offensive, you were sure Jiang Wanyin would have given you a glare that put your foot half in the grave. 

“Guniang,” Jiang Wanyin said stiffly. “This is my cousin from my mother’s side. She’s come to visit, and critique Lotus Pier’s upkeep while she’s at it. I thought it may be beneficial to introduce you, due to our recent business agreement.” 

You blinked, turning over this information in your mind as you and Jiang Wanyin’s cousin stared each other down. This woman appeared significantly older than Jiang Wanyin, so you hadn’t clocked her as being in the same generation. Her eyes held the same haughty pride as his, and the hair was a matching midnight black, albeit with a handful of gray streaks that added to her imposing aura—the family resemblance was definitely there. 

But why did she seem to age in a way that Jiang Wanyin hadn’t? Was she not a cultivator? 

It wasn’t your business, but you mentally began to speculate. Maybe: Jiang Wanyin’s parents were older when they had him. Or: Jiang Wanyin’s mother was the last born of her siblings, so naturally he would be the youngest of his cousins on that side. Oh, that one was cute! You weren’t the youngest among your own cousins, but not by a big margin; everyone was well into their adulthood by now. And most were married, at that! Ha, ha…

A couple seconds of internal dialogue passed before your brain processed the actual introduction Jiang Wanyin had just given. He’d saddled you with a duty, for some reason? 

“Okay…?” Summoning a bit more of the expected courtesy, you bowed and stated, “It’s nice to meet you, Madam.” 

The older woman gave you another, more severe up-and-down. “Yu Fumei. You’re doing business with Cheng-er? What kind?” 

Her abrupt use of a cutesy endearment for Jiang Wanyin caught you off-guard, and you had to disguise a burst of laughter as a coughing fit. It obviously did not work well; Jiang Wanyin and Yu Fumei gave you twin glares that would’ve evaporated you, had they put a bit of spiritual energy into it. 

Clawing at the edges of your composure, you cleared your throat and introduced yourself. Yu Fumei recognized your surname instantly, and gave a sharp glance to her cousin. “You didn’t mention you began associating with that family.” 

Her reproachful tone made you lift your brows. “Does our reputation precede us, Madam?” you asked, voice dripping with faux politeness.

Yu Fumei returned her gaze to you, no less chilly than before. “Of course, Miss. But so does yours.” 

Ah! A hater! And among Jiang Wanyin’s family, no less!

Always one to back down from a challenge, you simply laughed again and hoped she wouldn’t heckle you too much. “Mm, naturally. But I’ve undergone some personal development, as you can see. I’ll be running some aesthetic renovations within Lotus Pier, as approved by Jiang-zongzhu.” 

Your diversion back to Jiang Wanyin managed to work. His cousin swiveled her head to glare at him instead, reaching up to pinch his cheek hard enough you wouldn’t be surprised if it bruised. Considering that he didn’t flinch away, this appeared to be her love language. “You had better know what you’re doing, Cheng-er. Don’t let just anyone into your sect and wreak creative havoc.” 

This sounded like a threat toward both you and Jiang Wanyin. Yu Fumei cut you a disdainful glance and added, “Much less someone who may have ulterior motives. For business or otherwise.” 

Okay, a direct threat. Huzzah. 

The extent of your outward displeasure could only be a thin, disapproving stare; it would be hard to get away with more, even if she was super wrong about your so-called motives. 

While you bristled, Jiang Wanyin grew fed up with his cousin’s pinching fingers, and he batted her away. “I know, Biaojie,” he grumbled. “What do you take me for?” 

Yu Fumei was clearly rearing up for a retort to the rhetorical question. Out of the goodness of your heart, you decided it was fine to interject. 

“Are you interested in Lotus Pier’s upkeep, Madam?” you asked with an indulgent smile that didn’t match the irritation bubbling in your chest. Even if Jiang Wanyin was giving you a harsh side-eye, it was worth cutting off five more minutes of aggressive banter between family. You got enough of that among your own cousins. “Since you’re Jiang-zongzhu’s family, I think it would be alright to extend our creative feedback to you. I’ll be bringing designs and blueprints for reference soon, if you’d like to join the consultation.”

Now Jiang Wanyin was giving you a wide-eyed stare like this would be the worst thing to approve. Well, too late! 

But your offer had quieted Yu Fumei, arms folded as she regarded both you and Jiang Wanyin. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking, so you didn’t try. 

“No,” she said finally, eyes on her cousin. “I’ll trust that you won’t allow any ridiculous changes to Lotus Pier.” The promise of her return to judge those changes was implied. 

“Okay,” you agreed. Jiang Wanyin was practically hyperventilating from relief, his emotions so obvious that you almost wanted to make like his cousin and pinch his cheek to see what would happen. “Well, it was nice to meet you…” 

Suddenly, Jiang Wanyin lurched to the side—to the side in your direction—and grabbed your arm. You stiffened, memories of that incident surfacing as his warm grip seeped through your sleeve. “Yes, I’m sure it was,” he said with a grit-teeth smile. “We must continue chatting about business now. I’ll see you at dinner, Biaojie.” 

With that deeply unnatural excuse, Jiang Wanyin didn’t wait for Yu Fumei to respond, and instead manhandled you all the way back to his office. At this rate, you might just remember how to navigate there specifically and nowhere else on this whole property.

Chapter Text

He only released your arm when the door was shut behind you with a decisive thud. In a slight daze, you gave him a strange look as he collapsed into his desk chair. Warmth lingered where he’d been gripping you, but you refused to think about it. “Um, what was that?” 

Jiang Wanyin glanced up, his glare halfhearted. “My cousin can be,” he said haltingly, “overbearing at times.” 

A sympathetic noise sounded in your throat. “Can’t relate, but I’ve heard some horror stories.” 

His mouth twisted wryly, understanding that your upbringing was woefully different from his. “I’m sure.” 

A beat of silence passed. The ache in your arm was beginning to fade, but it would do you no favors in a couple hours when you returned to your bedroom. 

Sagging forward, Jiang Wanyin’s forehead thumped against the desk with an exhausted groan. His guan pointed straight at you, practically begging to be tugged out of his tight bun. “I can’t believe I had two surprise visits in the same damn day. What the hell is wrong with you women?” 

Your stomach lurched. “Ah, Jiang-zongzhu, my good fellow,” you chided, purposely drawing up your dramatism to mask the sudden discomfort prickling beneath your skin, “that’s not a ‘woman’ thing. Let’s not get it twisted, hm?” 

In your heart, you knew he’d said it as an off-handed remark, not thinking deeply about it. But, well, you were sensitive about generalizations. They usually came with social expectations that you often didn’t adhere to. Correcting such comments was an urge you had yet to curb. 

The pitch of your voice made Jiang Wanyin look up, regarding you with some vexation. “Perhaps,” he muttered. “You’re certainly like no woman I’ve met before.” 

Forcing down a sigh, you gave him a flat look. “Sure. The world is full of all sorts of people, isn’t it?”

Admittedly, you weren’t great at controlling your tone at times; it came out a bit sarcastic, but you didn’t mean it like that! Half your “job” involved meeting all kinds of people, or at least existing around them, so you knew better than to classify people by their gender. Heck, Jiang Wanyin literally hired a nonconforming attendant! Why was he like this?! 

Though your irritation was palpable, Jiang Wanyin didn’t bother to respond. He just picked up a stack of papers and began writing. 

“Uh…” You inched back toward the door. “I should get going, shouldn’t I…?” 

“Stay right there.” He didn’t even look up from his work. “My cousin needs to think we’re talking business, so just shut up and wait ten minutes. Then you can leave.” 

“What, stand here and do nothing?” 

“Preferably.” 

Like hell you’d let him get away with that! What were you, a statue?! 

“If we’re supposed to ‘talk business,’” you allowed some snideness to enter your tone, “then we should be talking, shouldn’t we, Jiang-zongzhu?” 

“Stop calling me that!” he snapped. 

Whoops, seemed like you nudged him to a breaking point. 

…

Wait a second.

You stared at him. His brush froze mid-character, eyes shooting up to stare back. 

“Stop calling you by your title?” you said slowly. 

Jiang Wanyin’s eye twitched. “No. Never mind. Get back to standing there and doing nothing.” 

For a moment, you pondered the pros and cons of risking your business partnership again to needle at him. That outburst definitely meant something, right? He wanted you to call him something more familiar (wishful thinking), or he was sick of being seen as just a sect leader by everybody? 

Ultimately, you knew that provocations would work too well on Jiang Wanyin with that temper of his, so all you could do was let it go. Still, you didn’t want to waste your time while he avoided his cousin for unspecified reasons. 

“Is it really that bad, having your family visit?” you asked, voice quieter, placating. 

A harsh breath expelled from his nose. “Yes,” he said curtly. “Any moment I spend without them hovering over my shoulder is a moment I can live in peace.” 

Being annoyed with him would’ve been easy; but, like before, his attitude itched at your curiosity rather than your nerves. 

That, for example, was a funny claim to make when it didn’t seem like he’d achieved anything even remotely close to inner peace. Earlier, he’d leaped to a pessimistic assumption based on an anecdote about your family. Today, he leaped to avoid his own cousin who’d come to visit him without prior notice. 

Taking these small instances into account, you could draw a pretty easy conclusion: This man had a deeply flawed relationship with his family—with one parent, maybe both parents; at least with his mother and her whole family. But was he overreacting to his cousin’s concerns, or was she really that overbearing? 

It was seriously none of your business. But, like, come on! You were a writer! Nosiness was the whole basis of understanding people! And it was very helpful for being a general member of society. Making inferences about those around you was dicey business, but you were well aware of that, and you treated people more gently, if anything. In your case, being nosy meant being kind. 

At least, that was how you strived to be. Whether that was an excuse or not, you didn’t think it mattered. 

“If you say so,” you murmured, pensive. Like with his little outburst a moment ago, you were loath to drop the subject. A small push might not hurt. “Do they do this often?” 

Jiang Wanyin did his best to set his paperwork on fire with his glare. Apparently he was no longer keen on eye contact. “Occasionally. My family in Meishan had to help me rebuild Lotus Pier when…” 

Though he abandoned the sentence, you vaguely understood. Something something Sunshot Campaign. 

“… Anyway. They make it very clear that they don’t trust me to run my own sect. Which is fucking ridiculous. I’m not a child anymore.” His scowl deepened, as if to highlight his point. 

Indeed, he was not a child. But he had been when he took up the mantle of sect leader; had been when he fought in a war. Everyone knew that. 

Suddenly you wondered why people didn’t talk about it more. Jiang-zongzhu’s temper this, Sandu Shengshou torturing demonic cultivators that. But the man clearly had unaddressed trauma—why else would he be like this? You’d known the guy for a month or two by now, and even you could pick up on it. Was everyone else being willfully ignorant, or were they genuinely stupid? 

When you took a beat too long to respond, Jiang Wanyin sighed wearily. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. You’re just…” 

It was his turn to hesitate. 

A faint smile touched your lips. “Just what? Am I a stranger now?” 

“Aren’t you?” 

Your smile faltered. “That’s…” 

Too detached. A bit cruel. 

Jiang Wanyin’s mouth did another little something, transforming his face into a new glare you didn’t know how to interpret. “What? Just because we’ve spoken a few times, that makes us friends?” 

Yet again, his wording gave you pause, tickled your intuition. “There’s such a thing as an acquaintance, Zongzhu.” He tensed minutely, not responding. After a moment, you added, “And… you told me because I asked.” 

But any further insight had already, firmly and decisively, been sealed off. His eyes gave it away, refusing to look at you, jaw tight and expression guarded. 

Shaking your head in surrender, you retreated to the door. “You’ve suffered my presence long enough, I’m sure. Even if I run into Madam Yu, I’ll make something up if she asks questions.” 

In the middle of your statement, he seemed to shudder. “Stars above, do not call her that.” 

It took you a second to realize why. “Oops. That would’ve been your mother’s title, huh?” For better or worse, it gave you a chuckle. “What’s better, then? Lady Yu? Her Imperial Highness Yu?” 

Finally, he turned a normal “shut the fuck up” glare onto you. “Just get out of my office. If you see my cousin, make a run for it or something. I don’t give a shit.” 

“Truly spoken like someone who doesn’t give a shit,” you said sagely. 

And that was how you made your hasty exit—a quick slip out the door before you could be yelled at or shredded by his spiritual weapon. A grin betrayed the thrill in your heart from some good banter with him, but you had to reel it in when you nearly bumped into a pair of servants on your way out. This endeavor was not only difficult, but marginally successful; those servants eyed you as they passed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret anything. 

Then you realized you didn’t actually know your way out. 

Well, no use in returning to face your demise just to ask for his help! You’d been carted back and forth between his office and the general outside to sort of navigate on your own.

Chapter Text

Upon making it halfway down the hall, you heard the office door slam open, and turned to see Jiang Wanyin storming toward you. It seemed he had the same idea and didn’t want to doom you to an afternoon of unsupervised wandering. 

Steps halting, you watched in bemusement as he caught up, his eyes weirdly intense. When he was within an arm’s reach, he clamped a hand down on your shoulder. 

Hm. Maybe you should’ve run instead. 

“I changed my mind,” he claimed, beginning to steer you down the hall. “If Biaojie sees either of us before you leave, she’ll call me inhospitable. I’ll escort you to the gate.” 

The longer his hand remained gripped on your shoulder, the warmer your face became. From your limited knowledge of acupuncture, there shouldn’t be an acupoint in the shoulder area that affected the face in such a way… Weird. This definitely wasn’t going to haunt your romantic fantasies like that other incident. 

“Whatever you say, Jiang-zongzhu,” you said faintly. 

Maybe it was your imagination, but his hand seemed to tighten on your shoulder before releasing. Air flooded your lungs, and within your sleeves your hands twitched; you usually didn’t feel like this around anyone, but something about Jiang Wanyin made you a bit of a mess. Ew. That needed to change. 

The only solution you could come up with was befriending him: Friendship would either disillusion you enough to drop these feelings, or convince him to like you. It was a fifty-fifty shot either way. 

You managed to keep your eyes mostly off of him on your way back, doing your best to log the route into your faulty mental compass. Lotus Pier was as brilliant as ever, if not more with the clear blue sky and vibrant sun. The shadows seemed to deepen as the day went on, like figures of their own, occupying the sect just the same as the people who tread them. 

Neither of you said a word, walking side by side as the views passed you by. The tiny demons in your head encouraged you to pounce on him for a hug, but you knew better than to invite certain death. Mentally swatting the inappropriate ideas as they multiplied, you glanced up at Jiang Wanyin only to find him giving you a sour side-eye. He quickly looked away, and from this proximity you could see a light, barely-there scrunch of his nose as his expression grew more displeased. 

Wow! That was way too cute for someone who probably wanted to slap you every time you met! And depending on the situation, you might let him— 

A laugh burst out, small and hysterical, in response to your raunchy thought process. There was a certain irony in your disinterest in actually participating in the things you read and wrote about—yet your brain would make its own jokes about it, as if it were a friend nudging you and giggling at an unintentional innuendo. 

But, of course, Jiang Wanyin did not have insight into your head. So when he heard you laugh out of nowhere, he assumed you were laughing at him. 

“What’s your fucking problem?” he asked through gritted teeth, his voice low and lips barely moving. It took a moment to realize that he was being overly paranoid, as if his cousin was within earshot, just out of sight, close enough to read his lips. 

“Which one?” you said plainly, once again resisting the urge to physically assault him by pinching his cheek or ear. 

Jiang Wanyin appeared constipated as he struggled to come up with a response. “Why are you so fucking happy?” 

He sounded frustrated. He was also… kind of wrong? 

“Is that how I come across?” you asked curiously. 

“Unless I did something really fucking funny without realizing, then yeah, it sure seems like you’re happy.” 

His tone was condescending, but you understood where he was coming from. You possessed a personality that was an… acquired taste, to put it lightly. At least around these parts of the ever-growing world. 

Humming thoughtfully, you wandered a hair’s breadth closer to him while traversing the border of an unoccupied garden. “I see where you’d get that idea, I guess. I’m pretty content with my life, but I wouldn’t say I’m a ‘happy person’ or anything. I just laugh easily, that’s all.” 

If Jiang Wanyin noticed you were gradually creeping closer to him, he didn’t comment—which made you think he hadn’t noticed. Were you capable of subtlety after all…? 

But when he turned to face you, his expression made it clear that he didn’t believe you. “Content with your life, but not happy,” he repeated, voice dripping with doubt. 

“That’s not what I said,” you corrected, taking the chance to give his arm a playful little chop. His hands gripped into fists at his sides, his gait turning stiff, but he didn’t retaliate. 

How rare that a risk paid off so spectacularly! Heart skipping a beat at the unspoken acceptance, you continued, “My emotions aren’t on a ‘happy’ level all the time. I mean, I don’t think anyone’s are, that’s just unhealthy, but—if I’m not put in a situation, then I’m just sort of feeling… nothing? Does that make sense?” 

The pair of you entered another empty courtyard. “No,” he said flatly. 

“Oh, come on, I was totally making sense!” 

You chopped his arm again, and his neck snapped over to glare at you. Joke’s on him, that made your heart flutter! 

“Well,” you probed, “what are you feeling all the time, then?” Your bet was on annoyance. 

Jiang Wanyin’s nose wrinkled cutely again. A few seconds passed; he seemed to be taking the question seriously, which was also cute. Then: “Annoyance.” 

“I knew it!” you crowed. 

“Shut up,” he snapped on reflex. There was no way you’d take him seriously when he said that, now or ever in the future. 

“So,” you hummed, bumping your elbow against his arm, “that seems tiring. Would you like to talk about it?” 

He didn’t rebuke this touch, either; you were getting away with small, casual contact, if you kept it brief. A thrill raced through your chest, like you were winning a game. Keeping it light and playful rather than affectionate—that was how you’d bypass his barriers. For now, until you could make nice with them. 

In response to your question, Jiang Wanyin gave you a disbelieving scowl. “No, I would not like to talk about it.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t,” you sighed. 

“What’s that supposed to—”

“Anyway,” you chirped, “if you ever want to, I’d like to listen. I like hearing about other people’s lives and stuff.” When he looked at you like he’d never seen you before, you thoughtfully added, “Who knows, maybe talking about yourself would fix all your problems.” 

Unlike earlier, you didn’t have the distance to evade his retaliation—nor a door to step through. He punched you in the arm, lighter than you were expecting, but it still ached enough to rub it as you laughed at him. “Shameless!” he hissed. 

“What? I’m just saying—”

“You forget your position, guniang,” he threatened. 

Well, he had you there. He did hold the power to cut off ties to your family business. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. But the offer is always open,” you said diplomatically. Was the warmth on your arm from a bruise forming, or because he’d touched you again? Who knew. He’d touched you earlier, when dragging you away from his cousin. And before that, when you were arguing and you’d tripped right into— 

Damn it, you’d told yourself to suppress that memory or you’d fall halfway in love with him! 

Ah, forget it. Jiang Wanyin had already invaded your subconscious, and you’d decided just now that befriending him was your only option. The every-time-we-touch-I-get-this-feeling thing was going to be an inconvenience, but there was nothing to be done. Not trying to touch him was out of the question! He was just too cute to leave alone!

Soon after, you arrived to the gate and were spared of the conversation festering into awkwardness. Jiang Wanyin stopped a little ways away, and you turned to face him, mouth quirked in a smile. 

“Have a safe return home,” he said gruffly. “I’ll see you before the month's out.” 

“Mn.” Again the temptation to squish his cheeks was overwhelming. “Many thanks to Jiang-zongzhu for his forgiveness.” 

When you tried to bow deeply, he snatched your wrist to stop you, then let go just as fast. “Don’t mention it,” he bit out, dead serious. “Goodbye.” 

You laughed as you turned in place. “Bye, Zongzhu.” 

His grumbling reached your ears as you exited Lotus Pier, but the words were lost to distance. 

Making your way out the gate, you passed by the same guards as before and were struck with a sudden whimsy. With a flourish of your robes, you whirled around to face them and pointed at each of them in turn. 

“Wu Meiran!” you exclaimed, causing the man to brighten considerably. “Ke Qiying! Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?~” 

Though she appeared perturbed, Ke Qiying returned your greeting with a short bow while her shixiong did so with a wave. 

“Guniang,” Ke Qiying addressed you at the exact proper volume. It was kind of impressive. 

“I trust your visit with Jiang-zongzhu went well?” Wu Meiran asked with a grin. His tone gave off an impression of excitability, but you weren’t sure what for. Was your company really that invigorating? 

“Sure did! I’m pretty sure I’m forgiven,” you confirmed. “I’ll be back soon enough, so don’t get too tired of me!” 

Strangely, you saw Ke Qiying lift her brows, but were soon distracted with Wu Meiran’s enthusiastic shout. 

“Awesome! See, I told you it’d be fine!” 

“Clamor.” Ke Qiying didn’t sound grumpy, per se, but she did seem like she wanted to reprimand both you and her fellow guard but knew it would be futile. 

“Sorry, shimei.” Wu Meiran’s tone lacked remorse, but he did sober up and speak to you more politely. “It’ll be nice to see you again, Miss. Ah, what’s your name, by the way?” 

After telling it to him, he nodded unabashedly. “Very good. Bring more fruit next time.” 

You laughed. “I can’t go bothering my friend every time you want fruit, Wu-xiong!” Ke Qiying’s eye twitched. “Just go to the market and find a stall with produce from the Bai family. Alright?” 

After a bit more idle chatter, you decided to stop pushing the boundary of Ke Qiying’s patience and wished the pair goodbye. However, a whim swayed your intentions at the last moment. You didn’t board your carriage where it waited for you close by; instead, you dismissed your driver and handed him some extra money in exchange for retrieving you tomorrow. 

It was getting late, after all, and it’d be a shame to leave this part of Yunmeng without exploring! 

Pocketing your brooch with your family’s insignia, you took to the bustling stalls that had caught your attention that morning. The sun was on its downward journey toward the horizon, so you wandered the stalls a bit quicker than you’d have preferred. Soon the bags hidden beneath your clothes were laden with trinkets—jewelry, little wooden statues, a new fan—and your hands were occupied with food. When the stalls began packing up for the incoming evening, you munched on the local cuisine as you trailed away from Lotus Pier in search of a good inn. 

Lacking the usual self-importance of someone from a rich family, you only preferred your sleeping accommodations to be comfortable and critterless. The first inn you encountered was perfectly suitable, and you sent for a hot bath before setting down your new belongings and landing in a heap on the room’s bed. 

When you sank into sleep an hour later, you didn’t dream. No good, and no bad.

Chapter Text

The next day was occupied exploring the streets of the city and its inhabitants. Much like your family’s estate did, Lotus Pier seemed to immerse itself in the surrounding area as its focal point; in your case, many people either worked for your merchant conglomerate or lived in harmony with it. The energy here was familiar in that way, but it was good to have a change in scenery, though you traveled often enough. Part of your day was spent stealthily gathering people’s opinions on Yunmeng Jiang and its leader, prodding the occasional question from stall owners and letting them chatter away. 

From this, you came to understand two things: Jiang Wanyin’s observers were divided into groups of “love him” or “hate him.” The ones who hated him were mostly full of fear rather than reproach; they’d recount tales of friends-of-friends who’d witnessed Jiang Wanyin torturing demonic cultivators back in the day—how their screams resounded through the whole region, and the ferocious expression Jiang Wanyin showed anyone who shared even a third of a name with a Wen who’d destroyed his life. It was uncomfortable to hear those stories, feeling them line up in your head with the flashes of anger you’d seen from Jiang Wanyin firsthand; but you kept your toe dipped into the pool of disbelief as you listened around. 

The anecdotes you wanted to focus on, anyway, were those from people who knew exactly what Jiang Wanyin had done for the community since becoming sect leader. 

“Even though the fighting was between cultivators, things were… tense, shall we say, among us civilians,” one man told you while making pork buns. “We had to feed and clothe the Wens even as they occupied Lotus Pier. They were paranoid and often beat us for being ‘suspicious,’ whatever that meant. I still have a limp.” 

You didn’t know how to reply during such stories, but your silent attention was what people tended to like about talking to you. 

The man continued, “Jiang-zongzhu’s methods were a bit overboard, I’d say, but once he reclaimed Lotus Pier and began recruiting, the Wens were out nearly overnight. We saw some peace then.” 

He watched the steam rise from the bun’s dough, idling while it cooled; it looked and smelled freaking delicious, and the story was vague enough not to hinder your appetite. “I say, young lady,” the man added, “if you hear anyone complain about what Jiang-zongzhu did to those demonic cultivators, they aren’t real locals. That boy talks big, but he doesn’t make anything our problem.” 

Somehow, the reassurance warmed you a bit more toward Jiang Wanyin. After all that, the least you could do was eat the pork bun in front of the stall and tip the man heartily. 

You continued to explore. Like yesterday afternoon, your exploits entailed excess purchases, though today you had more time to wander off the path and appreciate the scenery. Anything you’d bought that was a bit too impulse, you discreetly planted on the ground close to the nearest group of children until they noticed it. Sometimes they’d fight, and sometimes they’d adhere to the ultimate law of “finders keepers.” Call it a social experiment. 

(Once or twice, your stealth would fail you, and some well-meaning kid would come running to return your useless trinket. The awkwardness of explaining your intention was still worth sending the kid back to their friends with a new little toy.)

Over the years, you’d become more particular about your spending habits, choosing things that sparked joy rather than overindulgence. Any youth of even slightly lower status would broil in envy at the type of money you came from, and as a child you’d known few bounds in taking what you wanted. Somehow, you’d absorbed some sense of restraint—or, not so much restraint as contentment with your personal items. Especially before you’d gotten your grubby preteen hands on Daoist doctrines, any cool-toned or shiny thing you saw for sale automatically became yours. Then you learned the virtues of abstaining from worldly goods, and you decided that you in fact liked the belongings you had. It was just nice to look at your idle collection, even if you didn’t use most of it more than once every five years. 

A new bag, elegantly woven with silvery feather patterns, became the new method of toting around your purchases. It was fine since you were in broad daylight—thieves with any sense opted for deserted areas and the cover of night to charge their victims, and you naturally veered towards the opposite for your own safety. 

The old couple you met while perusing fabrics in the stall beside the bag vendor had stories of Jiang Wanyin when he was a kid. 

“Oh yes, he’s always had quite the competitive streak,” the elderly woman gushed, her smile sunny as if he was her own grandchild. “He and his shixiong were always running around causing trouble. That Wei Wuxian was such a talent, even Jiang Cheng had to take second place no matter what they were doing! But oh, everyone could see how proud he was to find the upper hand in getting them out of the trouble they made.” 

“Lots of practice for when he became sect leader,” the old man said, solemn but also fond. “A shame he lost so much before he got his footing.” 

Once again you were at a loss for words. The people around here treated the destruction of Yunmeng Jiang so casually. Was it a coping mechanism, or had they made peace with it after all this time? 

“Yeah,” you murmured, feeling that it was far from enough. But the couple were lost in their own memories, your response hardly more than background noise. 

“I remember when Jiang Cheng was so little, his jiejie wrapped him in cabbage leaves and paraded him around,” the old woman sighed. “Didn’t get ten feet out of Lotus Pier before their mama took them back in. Jiang Yanli was such a cutie—she’d tell anyone who listened that her didi was born from the garden like a grumpy little vegetable! What I wouldn’t give to understand what goes through the mind of a child.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Jiang Wanyin's big sister? Was she…? 

“I heard Jiang Yanli had spent a month trying to convince her husband to dress their son up like a cabbage after giving birth,” a newcomer said as he dropped off a stack of fabrics half his height. 

“Oh, shut it, A-Duan,” the old man grouched as A-Duan grabbed a spare handkerchief and dabbed the sweat from his beard. “You come up with nonsense every time you open your mouth.” 

“Mn, that’s why you’ve been so happy working with me all these years,” A-Duan retorted with a grin and a smack of his palm on a tilting pile of fabrics. 

While they argued, you sidled up to the new merchandise and rubbed a segment between your thumb and forefinger. Very soft. You could cut a new fan or two from it… no, the luscious texture would be wasted; fan fabric was for looking and painting. You should sew a sleeping mask. Yes, that would be better. 

Closer to when you’d met him, Songbird had sent an instruction booklet on folding fans—how to properly cut wood, trim fabric, and paint them. You’d meant to read it, you really did, but over the years you always found the words excessive and the ornate diagrams distracting. Maybe you’d try again soon; it was practically tradition at this point. Someday the words would make sense. 

“Why were we talking about Jiang Yanli, again?” A-Duan remarked, pulling you out of your fabric-induced contemplations. 

The old woman piped up. “This young lady here—” You internally startled, not expecting to be yanked back into the conversation. “—asked us what we thought about Jiang Cheng. We got so carried away, we started to reminisce about the Young Miss of Lotus Pier too!” 

A-Duan turned his eyes on you, and your lips twitched in an awkward smile, hand lifting from the fabric he’d just put down to wave at him. 

He regarded you with a strange sparkle in his gaze. “I see…” 

Suspecting you were in danger of being perceived a bit too closely, you inched away from him under the guise of checking the patterned fabrics. A brief glance could tell you they were lovely in color but gaudy in style. Maybe you could turn one into a joke gift for your friends. 

Fortunately, whatever conclusion A-Duan drew, he didn’t bother you with it. Turning back to the old couple, he said in an overly casual tone, “Well, as nice as it was to see Jiang Yanli out in the market every so often, Jiang-zongzhu is just plain loud. He made such a ruckus when his shixiong was with him, and he’s hardly changed since. You know, I’ve heard that sometimes he goes out in disguise to get a moment’s peace, but the townsfolk always spot him right away.” 

“Oh, Duan-er, he does not do that,” the old woman chided, her sweet smile radiant enough to make A-Duan wilt in defeat. 

The confirmation that he was indeed lying was strangely disappointing; the mental image of Jiang Wanyin putting on a disguise just to leave Lotus Pier was super cute. Would the townsfolk grant him the mercy of anonymity like A-Duan implied? Did the people really love him that much? Some were so outspoken about their dislike of him, you doubted Jiang Wanyin would survive hearing such gossip about himself, even by accident. 

Those were the reasons you’d been going around asking about these things—to understand the vibes around these parts of Yunmeng, but to understand Jiang Wanyin a little better as well. But now your cover was blown, or close to it. With much regret in your heart, you discreetly purchased a few fabrics from the old man while his wife bantered with A-Duan, then slipped away. 

As you went, you swore you heard A-Duan project his voice when he said, “I swear, Granny, if Wei Wuxian hadn’t ruined Jiang Yanli’s engagement the first time, Jin Rulan would have at least two elder siblings… No, really, I think he’d done it with those intentions…!” 

Your steps didn't falter, but your heart did. Even the grouchy response from the old man about A-Duan’s nonsense wasn’t enough to distract you from the dots swiftly connecting in your head. 

Maybe you should’ve realized sooner, but Jiang Wanyin’s sister—the one mistakenly killed by the Yiling Laozu, so the rumors said—was Jin Ling’s mother. Jin Ling, that sweet kid who became sect leader around the same age his uncle had. Not to mention, the Yiling Laozu was now alive and kicking, and living with another of the most esteemed cultivators in all the land. 

Their family situation only got more messed up every time you stumbled face-first into more information. No wonder Jiang Wanyin’s cousin pounced to check up on him without warning. 

Even just thinking about it was tiring. A few more purchases later, and you were about ready to take a nap on the carriage ride home. Lacking the energy and plausible deniability to continue asking people about their resident sect leader outright, you went to the most reliable place for gossip—somewhere you wouldn’t have to lift a finger, all while resting before your return home. 

Earlier, you’d taken mental note of a tavern that appeared lively in passing. The sun judged you from its place just past the sky’s apex as you meandered in the direction you thought was correct. Eventually you caught sight of the door with its name hovering above it in bold, striking characters, and you took a seat in the dining area with the help of a friendly waiter. Though mealtime had been at least a shichen ago, a considerable crowd packed the main room. 

After ordering a few dishes and a sample of the local sweet wine, you propped your chin on your hand and glanced around. Light chatter filled the room like sunlight, the collection of topics varying from marital troubles to crop negotiations. This was usual for your outings; personal gossip and trade gossip, sometimes giving way to political gossip, babbling on until new and shiny gossip dropped into their laps like polished jewels. 

All you had to do was wait. 

And come, the gossip did. A group of middle-aged men swaggered in, their voices doubling the volume in the tavern. 

“Are you sure that’s even possible?” one was saying, his mellow voice giddy with excitement. 

That perked your attention instantly. 

“Of course it is!” the man’s friend snickered as he took a hefty seat at their long table. “The man’s handsome, of course someone would be interested eventually! Though I pity the poor woman if she ain’t from Yunmeng. Might not know what she’s getting into!” 

Now the majority of the tavern-goers were listening. Only those in the room’s peripheries and beyond made noise, the newcomers taking center stage. 

The man with the impending gossip glanced around with a proud smirk, knowing full well and perhaps reveling in the fact that his news would take this room by storm. You watched as his eyes skimmed right over you, and lifted your cup to your lips with a faint smile. It paid to be average, unnoticed. 

After a suitably dramatic pause, the man pretended to still be speaking to his party of four as he announced, “Our Sandu Shengshou was seen holding hands… with a woman!” 

…

… Eh? 

Murmurs roiled within the tavern, several tables flagging down the waitstaff for more alcohol. Pleased with himself, the man nodded self-assuredly, basking in the glory of his tale. Meanwhile, you were left stunned. Least of all because… What?!  

Jiang Wanyin? With a woman? What woman? Was that supposed to be you? Since when had the two of you held hands?! At most, he’d dragged you around by the arm a bit… 

Ah, that’d be enough to do it. Damn. 

Taking a deep breath, you calmed your pounding heart and acted natural. The flush in your cheeks was the burn of alcohol. And you really liked gossip! Favorite hobby! Best pastime ever! Jiang Wanyin was allowed to hold hands with someone even if it didn’t seem like he cared about such a thing nor had time for it! And you had nothing to do with this story! None whatsoever!!! 

Once he was satisfied with the mounting intrigue of his captive audience, the man continued with the dramatism of an actor on his stage. “This comes straight from Lotus Pier, fellas,” he boasted to his friends. “Happened just this morning. Twice, I heard!” 

“Aiyoh, Lishang-xiong, you sure that pretty lady takin’ your spice deliveries actually saw Sandu Shengshou with a woman?” Lishang’s tallest companion said suspiciously, though he was clearly as into it as the rest of them. “She ain’t leadin’ you on, is she?” 

“Nah,” Lishang dismissed. “You’re too doubtful, Shu-xiong. Wasn’t just her, either—they’ve been seen together a few times, and there’s been talks ‘round town that a woman is interested in Sandu Shengshou, too. Fresh news from today!” 

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Obviously you’d been seen with him before—the man was contractually obligated to spend time with you! The power of gossip was astounding as always. 

Of course, you didn’t have a monopoly on Jiang Wanyin’s time or affections (if they existed), but it was increasingly likely that these recent “incidents” did in fact pertain to you. After all, Jiang Wanyin had claimed himself that he was too busy to take visitors, and other than his cousin or any of his regular disciples, there was no other woman he could’ve been with. But how had these rumors spread so fast? Was it just the servants from Lotus Pier who’d blabbed? Wouldn’t they know better than to cause this type of trouble for their sect leader?! 

Zoning back in, you heard the man named Shu say, “That’s too much of a coincidence, ain’t it,” only to be excitedly interrupted by a lady from a table nearby. 

“I heard the same thing! People were talking about it in the market just before I came here!” 

“See?” Lishang said triumphantly. “Xiao-Cheng’s got an admirer! And when’s the last time anyone’s seen ‘im with a lady? Our boy got blacklisted by every cultivator back in the day—there’s only so many women who could stand ‘im now!” 

“Is she part of the jianghu?” someone chimed in. 

“No, she couldn’t be! Blacklisted is blacklisted!” 

“Sandu Shengshou’s standards are still the same, right? Too picky! She’s gotta be from another region!” 

“Qinghe, you think?” 

“Definitely not from Lanling.” 

“Yunmeng’s pretty big, so she could be an ignorant noblewoman!” 

“Or too young to know better…”

“Did his family set them up? Meishan Yu has imperial ties, you know.” 

“Jiang Wanyin would never agree to an arranged marriage!” 

“Aiy, who said anything about marriage?!” 

Voices overlapped and coagulated, blurring in your ears until you gave up completely. At some point your food had been served, and you’d offered an automatic thanks that got lost in the increasing chaos, eating in your bubble of silence. There was too much to consider now, lots to contemplate. Parsing it would take the whole ride back home. 

When the time came, you left a handful of coins on the table, handed another silver piece to the server on your way out, and slipped from the tavern without a single patron’s notice. 

In the end, you arrived at the same conclusion as always: 

Being in public was truly too exhausting!

Chapter Text

When you arrived home from your exciting days in and around Lotus Pier, your parents were both gone on business, and a servant handed you a letter addressed from Gusu. Toting your new belongings to your room, you tossed the letter onto your desk and fiddled with your displays of small shiny things until you were satisfied with the additions. 

Then, you opened your letter, and promptly remembered how you’d invited chaos into your otherwise tranquil life. 

To the guniang who brought my brother-in-law some levity, it was addressed. 

Oh, fuck. 

First of all, thank you for making him smile. That earns ya some good points already, so congrats! 

…?

Aside from that, you sound like the type not to snitch. 

…??? 

I was told some personally relevant things about your business pursuits, and I’m very super incredibly interested to hear about them. Zewu-jun said we should meet, so might as well, right? I sent this letter ahead, but I’ll be visiting the area three days after it arrives. Meet me here around wei shi: 

The letter listed a renowned inn about an incense time northeast of your home, plus the date for good measure. Two days from now. 

Looking forward to meeting you, lady! 

 

With utmost sincerity, 

Wei Wuxian (His Most Esteemed Yiling Laozu)  

… Oh! Fuck!  

When you pulled aside the servant who’d given you the letter and asked when it had arrived, she confusedly relayed that it was attached to a crow’s leg that had pecked at your bedroom window yesterday until it was let in. 

“… Great,” you croaked, then let Xiaolin return to her housekeeping duties. 

Okay! Either this was an incredible employment of intimidation tactics, or Wei Wuxian was super fucking weird! It was kind of hilarious, though, so you’d withhold your judgments until you got in a room with the guy. 

Fortunately, your parents had left the previous morning (before the crow appeared) and would be returning the following afternoon. So, you not only had an extra two days’ buffer, but you could see your parents one last time before you met your prospective doom after pissing off the Yiling Laozu. This was fine. Super duper fine. 

As with most things, you decided to ignore the implications of pretty much all the sentiments hidden within Wei Wuxian’s letter and go ask him what the fuck he meant directly. Nothing was more reliable, in your opinion, and you’d gotten better at ignoring your racing speculations. Like, why did he say you wouldn’t snitch? What could you possibly snitch about? Why was Lan Xichen’s very nice smile important enough to mention? Was Zewu-jun actually living in misery and was just really good at hiding it? Why hadn’t your mother pressured you to marry him instead? 

Actually, you could ask her about that yourself. 

Your parents returned the next morning, and you dutifully greeted them with a hug each and a hearty brunch in the gardens (of which only a pile of osmanthus cakes was your handiwork). Adhering to your previous decision to keep Wei Wuxian’s letter to yourself, you mentioned you were meeting with someone over business tomorrow. While your father predictably congratulated you on networking, your mother lifted a suspicious eyebrow. 

“What kind of charming individual convinced my child to meet them for work instead of play?” she questioned. 

Eyes darting around evasively, you hesitated for a few seconds. “… No comment.” 

The sketchy answer caught even your father’s attention. “You aren’t going behind our backs to meet someone strange, are you?” 

Damn it, he sounded so disappointed, as if you’d lied to him! You didn’t, you really didn’t! 

“It’s someone recommended by Lan-zongzhu,” you said reluctantly. All your hopes were piled on your mother not connecting the dots. 

Whether she did or didn’t, she let it be. While your father nodded, satisfied with this response, she commented, “It’s good to hear that you’re benefiting from listening to your mother.” 

Laughing painfully, you said, “Does ‘getting dragged around’ suddenly count as ‘listening to you’? And I’d admit it anytime—I know you’re one with the ultimate wisdom, or whatever.” 

“Good child.” 

The three of you had hashed and rehashed the same rounds of “If you think your parents are right, then why don’t you listen to us?” “Because I’m tired and stubborn” enough times over the years that there was no need to do it again. The rest of the meal passed, and your father departed for a meeting with his friend-slash-finance buddy. This left you alone with your mother to wander the gardens for an impromptu heart-to-heart. Something about the curving alleys of trimmed bushes and flowering trees prompted deep emotional talks whenever you traversed them with company. Maybe you should bring Jiang Wanyin here and he’d actually talk about his life, or something. 

… That thought needed to not intrude at a time like this, when your mother was giving you a look that meant she knew you were about to bring up a strange topic. 

“You know Zewu-jun,” you started, and her eyebrows shot into her hairline. 

“Indeed,” she grinned. 

“Leave me alone,” you grumbled with a shove that didn’t even push her half a foot off the grassy path. 

“What is it about Zewu-jun, Xiao Bao?” 

Taking a much needed deep breath to steel yourself, you forced out, “Why… when you had me meet him, you didn’t act… ah…” 

Oh boy, the words were not working today. Fortunately, your mother was patient as you struggled to form your question without sounding like you actually wanted to talk about your non-prospective love life. 

Eventually you managed to ask, “You’re sort of pushing me to get close with Jiang-zongzhu. But, wouldn’t you, ah, hypothetically prefer Zewu-jun as a son-in-law? Hypothetically.” 

The repetition was absolutely necessary. 

Humming, your mother idly brushed her fingers along a vivacious pink flower, a dusting of pollen coming off her fingertips. Before you’d formed your golden core, you might’ve sneezed a dozen times just looking at it. 

“As nice as it would be to have any son-in-law,” she started, making you cringe, “I know you. No matter who we tried to set you up with, you pushed back, even when you agreed to a few dates to placate us. I know you were trying, Xiao Bao.” 

Damn, she really did perceive you on a deeper level than you were comfortable with. When had she figured out that you actually tried to get along with some of your suitors? After all those attempts to show them just how much you disliked those dates, too! 

She continued, “Especially when it comes to big decisions like that, the idea has to come from your own head.” She smiled slightly. “I can tell you how good of a match you could be with Zewu-jun all I want, but if you’re not interested in him that way, you’ll only grow more stubborn if I say something. And,” oh no, “you actually seem to like Sect Leader Jiang. I won’t say anything else on the topic, but whoever you want to pursue, I only wish for you to be happy, dear.” 

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Since when was giving her blatant opinion “not saying anything else on the topic”?  “Thanks…” 

Hearing the doubt in your voice, your mother settled to a stop beneath an overhang of willowy leaves, the shade cool despite the sun dappling into your eyes. “Xiao Bao,” she said in that overly maternal tone that nearly made you shudder on principle, “I always want my child to do what makes her happy. That’s why I don’t harp on you to spend your time more responsibly, or arrange you to be married to whomever I see as the best match. I want you to have options.” 

—Things she’d said many times before, and you always knew she spoke for both herself and your father. He wasn’t quite as eloquent, but you understood each other when he did try. 

“I’m,” you mumbled, “grateful. Please don’t make me say that again for another thirteen years.” 

“I know you are.” Her smile reinforced it. “Now, if you do happen to be going on a date with a certain sect leader—”

“I’m not,” you interrupted, quickly turning to face the nearest bush rather than the woman who birthed you and hadn’t allowed you a peaceful moment since. “That’s not what I’m doing tomorrow!” 

“Who said anything about tomorrow?” she said innocently. Damn it! “The lady doth protest too much—her mother sees right through her~” 

“I’m really not,” you repeated, voice weak. 

Patting you consolingly on the shoulder, your mother offered a cheeky grin. “I believe you. If you really managed to entangle yourself with someone, you’d never be able to hide it.” 

Oh, she had no idea, you thought mournfully. “Right as always, Mama.” 

A false sense of security crept on you when your conversation turned to your respective plans for the next week or so. Both parents only needed to handle business locally for a while, and you had your own smatterings of ideas. Never a boring day when you had the money to laze around and discover new things. 

Just before you exited the gardens, your mother abruptly said, “Zewu-jun’s brother-in-law, that Wei Ying, is the one you’re meeting, yes?” 

If you’d been drinking tea, you’d have choked on it and hacked half to death. You weren’t stupid enough to think she’d bring him up by name without knowing exactly who he was. “… Yes,” you admitted. 

With a small hum as if she’d confirmed a suspicion, your mother smiled slightly, gazing ahead rather than at you. “Of course, I only request that you stay safe, as always. But, just know that if anything happens, Zewu-jun will be the one paying the price.” 

Once more caught between laughing and crying, you chose the former lest you commit the latter. “Are you threatening an esteemed sect leader or guilting me into being extra careful?” 

“Perhaps a bit of both,” she said lightly. 

Shaking your head, you turned toward the trimmed arch decorating the garden’s exit. “You’d never say it to his face, though, so I suppose you can get away with it.” 

“Of course I’d say it to his face. Just like that.” 

A glance back at your mother, all smiles and sunshine, told you she was serious. 

Well, at least you knew there’d always be someone in your corner. 

(When your thoughts turned to Jiang Wanyin, orphaned and stripped of his siblings, you kept the sorrow carefully off your face.)

Chapter Text

Upon walking into the inn smack in the middle of wei shi as requested, you were struck with a vague sense of nostalgia. In your childhood, you’d traveled for the family business with your parents or aunts and uncles, and sometimes your grandparents before they moved out of Yunmeng altogether. The older you’d grown, the pickier you’d become about your travel habits, preferring not to travel overnight too often lest your energy take the brunt of it. Now, faced with mingling accents and the warm aroma of food swirling in the air, you looked about and wondered if your parents were disappointed that you didn’t have your own child to take to new places. 

If not for your chastisable habits of sleeping in and taking your sweet time preparing to venture more than twenty minutes away from your residence, maybe you’d have arrived slightly before wei shi and respected your inviter’s time. However, as it stood, you entered the inn and wandered through the front rooms until a glint of metal caught your eye. A bright-eyed young man dressed in red and black waved you into the dining area with a black flute in hand, seated comfortably toward the back where few people were within earshot. Just to make sure, you introduced yourself before taking a seat, and he indeed offered his name in return. 

“How were you so sure it was me?” you asked as you settled down at the table, your back to the room where it was in full view of Wei Wuxian. His face was pretty in a way that tickled your familiarity, and his build was slight, his fingers lithe and nimble as he twirled his flute before slipping it into his sleeve. 

“I had Zewu-jun draw me a picture,” he replied as if it was very normal to make one’s sect leader brother-in-law make a whole piece of art just to identify one person. “It’s pretty accurate. I brought it for reference. Wanna see?” 

“Sure?” Certainly Lan Xichen’s art skills were of the utmost exquisiteness. He was a Lan! If his depiction of you wasn’t flattering, though, you might die. 

Pulling a folded-up paper from his robe’s breast, Wei Wuxian offered it to you and watched with a grin as you unfolded it. 

Yep, that was you, alright. Holy wow. 

“They’ve got to be feeding Lans something else up there,” you said faintly, handing the uncomfortably skillful drawing back to Wei Wuxian. Seriously, you’d met Lan Xichen one time and he could produce a replica of your visage in his own style, while being honest about your more and less flattering features without a hint of demeaning or arrogance?! That was almost worse than an unflattering portrait! 

He laughed as he declined the return. “Honestly? It’s just a lot of boring salads. Good for the brain, but not for the soul, y’know? But I don’t have a use for that sketch anymore, unless you’re suggesting I should keep it to gaze fondly upon you.~” 

You blinked. “Aren’t you married?” 

Wei Wuxian smacked his own forehead. “Yes! Sorry, it’s habit. I don’t think I even like women, actually. It really is habit. Lan Zhan doesn’t mind.” 

Nodding slowly, you ignored the bereft feeling of hearing somewhat contradictory statements and reached for the already-full cup on your side. “Is this mine?” 

“Mhm! I smuggled in a little Emperor’s Smile for ya. You like wine?”

It wasn’t a test—or, Wei Wuxian probably wasn’t the type to test you over a bit of alcohol—but a few alarm bells jingled in the back of your mind. The inn was reasonably crowded, as it always was, but you were loath to accept a drink from a stranger when you hadn’t seen him pour it. Much less when you were on your own. 

“Not really,” you said carefully, gazing at the clear contents of the cup. “I try new alcohol sometimes, but it’s really for the novelty. It just tastes kinda…” You glanced up, forming a brief test of your own. “Meh.” 

A cheery laugh puffed from his lips. “Hmm, guess I’m just built different. Is this how kids behave these days? Wow, I feel so old!” 

Recalling that this man had reanimated into a younger man’s body, you forced the complications of his mental age versus his chronological age versus his physical age out of your mind. “No, it’s just me. My friends like to drink. Also, aren’t you, like, twenty-five?” 

Oops. The comment slipped out anyway. 

Wei Wuxian burst out laughing, his voice a bit shrill. “Well, sure, in some senses, I guess—but there’s no need to mind that. One could say I have two lifetimes’ worth of experience.~” He winked. 

Clearly this man was an effortless flirt. Plenty of those types had crossed your path over the years—few directed at you, though, and fewer still the ones who’d managed to dent your natural aversion to being flirted with. It wasn’t like you were made of stone, and you had a soft spot for friendly people, but you didn’t so much as blush when a glimmer of Wei Wuxian’s charms shone through his cheeky disposition. 

“Yikes,” you deadpanned, though your eyes curved and your lips tilted up. “Joking to cope, I see. Mood.” 

A slight wheeze escaped Wei Wuxian. “I can see why Zewu-jun spoke so highly of you, guniang.” 

Instead of yielding to the curiosity digging pits into your soul, you took an experimental sip of Emperor’s Smile and made a surprised noise. “You know, even if you spiked this, it might be worth the horrible fate you have in store for me. This is the most tolerable wine I’ve ever had.” 

“Just tolerable?” Wei Wuxian looked scandalized. “You really aren’t a drinker. Damn.” 

“More for you, right?” The cup went right back onto the table, and you nudged it in his direction. 

All it took was a mournful sigh before Wei Wuxian released his lamentations and plucked the cup from the tabletop. The swiftness of his downing the drink convinced you that the thing was not, in fact, poisoned—unless he’d built up a tolerance or something. Or did the golden core filter out toxins? Had you read that somewhere? 

A bit of small talk and a visit from the waitstaff later, your latent jitters broke through. “So, what exactly are we doing here?” you asked bluntly. 

Lithe fingers tapped restlessly on the varnished wooden table. “Other than Zewu-jun thinking we’d get along—and, well, I think we’ve got that covered!—he said you were doing some… furnishings around Lotus Pier.” His tone didn’t change, exactly, but his voice hitched like a wrinkle in a cloth when he spoke the sect’s name. “And you might want to understand helpful talismans? Since it’s full of cultivators. I’m not really…” Wei Wuxian coughed, and didn’t continue. 

You kept your expression placid. “Okay,” you said agreeably. “I have vague knowledge of cultivation stuff, so it’d be cool to learn some wards and such directly from someone who’s really knowledgeable. We can pay you for your time, obviously.” A pause, your lips twitching in a failed attempt not to smile. “Also, I have a golden core.” 

Refreshingly, Wei Wuxian’s eyes bugged out before he managed to school himself into a faux-casual lilt. “Oh my, is that so?” He smirked, lounging back in his seat a bit too far, and catching himself as if he’d expected another person’s weight there. “It’s really no wonder you caught Zewu-jun’s eye, eh?~” 

“Huh?” Brow furrowing, you connected a few dots and scrambled to correct the picture. “No, it’s not like that. I didn’t even tell him I have a core? Can you sense that or something?” Nobody had called you out for that so far, all taken aback when you made your dramatic reveal, but they could’ve just been humoring you…? 

But Wei Wuxian shook his head. “No, not unless you’re making contact with someone’s meridians.” Then he reached out and made a grabby gesture, grinning. “Lemme see, I’m curious.” 

After half a second’s hesitation, you held out your wrist, and he delicately clasped his fingers around it. His hand was warmer than you expected, and a bit rough with new callouses. When his index and middle fingers pressed in on your pulse point, an ache seeped into your blood and began to spread, though too slowly for you to worry. 

Wei Wuxian made an intrigued noise in the back of his throat. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, his lips curling into that ever-amused smile. “You know, it’s dangerous to give someone such direct access to your gate of life.” 

Your expression had remained neutral through that odd almost-pain of him checking your meridians, but now you frowned. “Is that a threat?” Less than affronted, you were kind of perplexed. 

“Mmm, no. I’m just saying.” Breezing by that oddity, he continued, “You’ve got a natural protective layer to your qi, guniang. Of course, your core is pretty weak, but I know from personal experience that it’s nothing some dual cultivation can’t fix.~” 

A grimace twisted your mouth, but so did a surge of curiosity—if this guy was willing to openly talk about his sex life, then this was a perfect opportunity to do some impromptu research! “I, uh, think I’m good. I'm not even a cultivator, so…” 

Before he could respond, you added, “But, like, definitely tell me more about dual cultivation. For science.” 

He opened his mouth, but you beat him to it again. “After we decide whether to work together!” Your hand smacked the table, grinning in triumph over not letting your whims decide the course of conversation. 

Gazing at you as if torn between being stunned and laughing his head off, Wei Wuxian steepled his hands. “As much as I’d love to bestow my vast wisdom on runes, talismans, wards, and everything in-between…” His dramatic tone made you snicker, your mirth reflecting each other like a sunbeam on clean dishes. “... I’m not so sure about the,” he paused, “commute.”

You nodded in understanding. “I get that. That’ll take some compromise. But, before we even talk about logistics, can I ask—”

The arrival of your food interrupted your question. What were supposed to be a few cursory bites turned into the pair of you preening over the quality of the meal, easily distracted by some good food. The only thing keeping you from finishing your question mid-bite was the ounce of propriety drilled into you by your parents. So, you chewed and swallowed, yearning for a long answer from Wei Wuxian so you could dig in properly. 

“Uhm, anyway. I’m sure Zewu-jun told you what kinds of renovations we’re doing.” He’d inquired about that very topic in multiple letters, but your correspondence with him was gradually migrating into friendly territory, rather than business. “It’s really nothing that’d require a ton of talisman work, I think? So, no offense, but why exactly are you interested in working together?” 

Another point of contention was the history between Wei Wuxian and Yunmeng Jiang, but you’d get there in time. 

Chewing slowly, Wei Wuxian pondered the question, giving you a good chance to stuff your face. But as it turned out, he didn’t have the same reservations as yourself, and he proceeded with his cheeks puffed up with food.

“I,” he said ponderingly, “am not so sure I’m welcome in Yunmeng right now. But,” he paused to wash the bite down with a hefty gulp of wine, “y’know, I grew up there. I think…” Wei Wuxian stared down at his plate, chopsticks tapping the porcelain rim. “Xichen-ge probably thinks it’d be a good in. Since I haven’t visited in so long.” 

Oh! Getting right into it, then! Saved you the trouble. 

“So,” you struggled to connect a few of the hazy, floating dots, “you’ve had some trouble with Jiang-zongzhu…?” The memory of your own question to Wu Meiran floated to the surface. “Did you do something to get yourself banished or something?” 

Wei Wuxian began to nod emphatically, but then his brow pinched. “Uh. Actually, he didn’t phrase it like that. But,” he waved his hand dismissively, the jerky movement sparking some fear that he’d accidentally embed his utensils into the wall, “we’ve parted on bad terms every time I’ve seen him since I died. Plus, he hates my husband.” 

“Oop,” you said. 

Who could blame you for being surprised? Jiang Wanyin didn’t seem to get along with people easily, but the famed Hanguang-jun was known for his unfailing temperance. 

Actually, if he was as devoted to Wei Wuxian as the rumors said, then if Jiang Wanyin behaved unkindly to Wei Wuxian, that’d be plenty to incite the ire of Lan Wangji. Man, cultivators were just as petty as any normal person. 

Your little exclamation made Wei Wuxian grin, though over the past incense time or so, it felt like he was always wearing it. Kindred spirits, the two of you were. 

“It’s my fault, really,” he explained. “I just can’t help myself around Lan Zhan.~ Even before we were together, Lan Zhan and I were having a moment,” you were certain he’d be wiggling his fingers for show if he wasn’t busy stabbing at a piece of pork, “and Jiang Cheng saw something he shouldn’t, if you know what I mean.” 

Wei Wuxian gave you a fraction of a second to think they’d been caught smashing in public before continuing, “We were hugging. That’s all.~ But Jiang Cheng clocked my feelings for Lan Zhan before I did, and he got reeeeeeally mad at me about it. Feh, he’s only in tune with people’s emotions when it means he can be rude about it.” 

Hearing this, your stomach began to sink as if your recently devoured bowl of rice had gone rotten. “He doesn’t like cut-sleeves?” 

If you’d been searching for something to banish your fledgling feelings for Jiang Wanyin, then bingo! There it was! Feelings eviscerated! 

Understanding dawned, and Wei Wuxian waved his hands so emphatically that bits of oil and grease splattered across the table. “Oh, no, no, no! He doesn’t care about that at all! It’s just that it’s me and Lan Zhan…” Dejection dulled his features, making him look like a drowned cat with his big, sad eyes and wild hair. 

You weren’t sure whether it was better that Jiang Wanyin wasn’t bigoted towards homosexuals—on the one hand, hooray for less prejudice in the world! On the other hand, your feelings made a spectacular rebound that nearly popped your heart like a soap bubble. 

Reaching for a spare cloth to wipe up the greasy spots on your shared table, your eyes drifted, pensive. “So, he’s just salty that you found your happiness without him?” you guessed. 

Whatever you expected for notching that arrow and shooting it in the dark, it wasn’t for Wei Wuxian to go completely still, more quiet than you’d seen so far. Stomach sinking even lower, you added, “Ignore me, I’m just saying things. I don’t have siblings, or really any relationship like yours and Jiang-zongzhu’s, so I wouldn’t know. I also quite frankly don’t know much about either of you, so don’t take it personally. Sorry?” 

His lips tilted into an odd smile. “You sound exactly like someone I know. Or, knew a long time ago.” 

Of course, he didn’t elaborate. Oh well. 

“Jiang Cheng never really got along with Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said absentmindedly, his eyes landing on you but without real focus. “Though, he doesn’t really get along with anyone. He’s a good leader and all that, but I can’t remember if he’s had many actual friends. I think he didn’t go out of his way to befriend anybody ’cause he always had me to talk for the both of us. Man, I really put him through it when we were kids.” 

Heart speeding up, you gritted your teeth against the urge to let loose a waterfall of questions about Jiang Wanyin and his boyhood, forcing yourself to sit quietly and listen intently. Oftentimes a silence of more than a few seconds was encouragement enough for someone to continue speaking till they ran out of breath. 

… Instead, Wei Wuxian took the less-traveled path of turning the questions on you. “So,” he drawled, lips quirked as he cast you an unnerving glance, “since you’re working with Jiang Cheng now… How is he?” 

You got the distinct sense he wasn’t asking about Jiang Wanyin’s business dealings. “Like, how is he in general, or how is he as a, uh, sect leader?” you clarified awkwardly. It’d been a lifetime of it, yet you couldn’t quite overcome the hurdle of a broken script. He was supposed to be monologuing about his youthful days with Jiang Wanyin, dammit! 

“Hah… well, both, I guess,” Wei Wuxian said wryly. He seemed to tip towards the brink of speaking again, but he only resumed eating, chewing slowly as he waited for your answer. 

You took a moment to ponder the question and parse what sort of information he wanted. It was already clear that the former martial siblings didn’t have a relationship anymore—and Wei Wuxian, though he tried to mask it with that constant smile, clearly worried for his shidi. That was… pretty sad! It wouldn’t do to leave him high and dry. 

“He’s doing well, as far as I can tell,” you said carefully. “I only met him a couple months ago. Actually, it was because he helped my family with a, ah, cultivation issue—it was only after that we started doing business. Uh, sorry, but I don’t know what else to tell you. His sect seems to respect him the normal amount. He didn’t destroy me for being disrespectful, I guess? Is that different?” 

In the end, you really didn’t know all that much about Jiang Wanyin. Though you’d known it already, facing this fact opened a stark pit in your stomach, and you had nothing to fill it with. 

Despite your fumbling words, Wei Wuxian’s eyes were locked on you, absorbing your attempt at an explanation. When you fell silent, uncertain what else to say, he nodded slowly. 

“I suppose I wouldn’t know anymore,” he murmured. “It’s been so long. He humored me all the time when we were kids, though he’d yell at me every time I got us into trouble—but he always bailed me out. It was only after I…” His throat bobbed, eyes lowered. “… Once I started demonic cultivation, that he stopped going along with my whims.” 

Suddenly, Wei Wuxian’s eyes glimmered with realization—the light of a torch falling to the grass, like it could die or catch fire at the whim of the next breeze. 

“Actually, no,” he whispered, almost to himself. “It was after I defected.” His hand covered his eyes, that grin front and center, now wobbly at the edges. “Fuck. I messed things up from the start, didn’t I?” 

You held your breath, barely blinking as you waited for Wei Wuxian to finish whatever breakthrough he was making. Eventually he lowered his hand, his eyes red-rimmed but dry. 

“Sorry,” he said, cheerful and slightly hoarse. “Didn’t mean to spill my guts like that.” 

“I tend to have that effect on people,” you said in what you hoped was a reassuring tone. “Don’t ask me why, ’cause I really don’t know.”  

A snicker burst from behind his clenched teeth. “Hmm, you really do sound like my old friend. I’d introduce you to him, but we, ah, drifted apart. When I died. You know how it is.” 

Your lips stretched in a pained smile. Getting used to his references to his own death was taxing. “I’ve been meeting enough new people lately, I think,” you sighed. “Maybe I’ll run into him someday.” 

Stirring the oily broth of your soup idly, your mind faded into that vague state it entered whenever the silence didn’t settle like it should. A sudden self-consciousness welled up like a bubble from deep underwater, and you tugged at your own robes under the table. “Uhm…” you murmured, searching for words, but your eyes were suddenly blind to them. “So, dual cultivation?” 

What an awful topic to default to! But unfortunately, you had to commit now. 

Wei Wuxian laughed, and it sounded light enough that you relaxed. “Curious about that, huh? I really should go reconnect with Nie Huaisang so I can set you two up.” 

It was safe to assume that was the former friend he’d been referencing. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t place it fast enough to give it much thought. “I don’t actually,” you said haltingly, “really care about. That stuff. I swear.” Expression twisting in a visceral cringe, you muttered, “That sounds so unconvincing. Ugh, whatever. Believe what you want.” 

His eyes were sharp and curious as you failed to save face. “If you’re not interested, then why do you want to hear about it?” 

Glancing around to comfort yourself with the vacancies at the surrounding tables, you explained, “I like hearing about other people’s experiences, first off. But for that, I can read or hear about it all I please, but I just don’t see the appeal in actually doing it. Most people don’t seem to share the same sentiment, though.” 

A thoughtful look crossed Wei Wuxian’s face. “That’s really interesting. You’re totally missing out, in my opinion.~” 

“I don’t think I am,” you muttered. 

“Oh!” Wei Wuxian inclined his head in apology. “Right. Woman parts.” That wasn’t technically what you were referring to, but he made a fantastic point. “Kinda makes it easier living the cut-sleeve life when there’s no chance of accidental consequences.” 

You slowly sipped your broth. “Other than disease.” 

He grimaced. “For non-cultivators, at least.” When you stared at him for long enough, sensing more to the story, he folded. “One certain sect leader who shall remain unnamed… definitely indulged in, uh, pleasures of the body way too much. Kinda got him killed. But stars know half the population of China would’ve been struck ill if he’d been capable of carrying that type of disease.” 

Now you grimaced. “Gross.” The information wasn’t quite new, but you couldn’t remember which sect leader had been the one to die mid-boning a bunch of ladies. “Sorry to get you into it in the middle of a meal.” 

“Oh, come on, my stomach is stronger than that!” As if to prove it, Wei Wuxian plucked a bottle of chili sauce from somewhere on his belt and drizzled it over a noodle dish. “Here, even if you can’t stomach the topic, the spice’ll distract ya right away from it.~” 

More nausea rose from the aggressive red of the sauce than the subject at hand. “I’d rather be able to taste my food, thanks,” you declined. 

With a carefree shrug, Wei Wuxian pocketed the bottle and dug into the fire-red noodles. Perhaps less discreetly than you should’ve, you nudged a pile of napkins in his direction for when his mouth inevitably turned that same red. 

“Wait,” you muttered around a mouthful of your own properly seasoned noodles, “we didn’t finish talking about work and stuff.” 

Wei Wuxian glanced up at you, taking full advantage of the napkin pile as he swallowed his buffet of spice. “Mm? Yeah, I guess the most I can do is show you some water-resistance talismans and hope for the best… Well, I mean, there’re optimal places to put ’em, and other such details for maintenance ’cause it doesn’t rain enough in the Cloud Recesses to test endurance…” 

While he prattled on, the air became dense with nostalgia, clinging to his words like condensation. He was clearly passionate about innovation—and smart enough to back it up with tons of cultivation or engineering-specific words your brain skipped right over—and every time he mentioned Lotus Pier, he’d get a bit misty-eyed. Whether or not he was welcome in Yunmeng… well, Jiang Wanyin only had control over his own sect! What’s a bit of meddling among acquaintances? 

“I think,” you interrupted when Wei Wuxian threatened to delve into a tangent about the densities of wood, “we should have actual lessons or something, so I can get a sense of what to maybe integrate into the products Jiang-zongzhu actually ordered. Like, he asked for some lantern fixtures, so maybe you know a way to stop the metal from getting too hot in the summer or something?” You bit the end of your chopsticks. “Just throwing out ideas. I don’t really know much about anything.” Jack of all trades, master of none, and such. 

That glimmer of nostalgia appeared in Wei Wuxian’s eyes again, but this time he didn’t comment. “Lessons. Good idea. But, ah, the commute…?” 

“It’s just a few days, right? Doesn’t have to be a weekly thing. We can take turns between letters.” 

Wei Wuxian cringed. “I guess… and it’s way quicker on sword, but I don’t think Lan Zhan would like…”

His eyes caught on something behind you, and he trailed off. “O-oh, Lan Zhan!” 

In complete opposition to your manners, you twisted around and saw a tall, imposing figure sweeping with utmost elegance into the dining area. Patrons all around paused their conversations to stare at him, and for good reason—the man was equally handsome to his brother, and dressed in that depressing yet eye-catching funeral-white. In your eyes, the Twin Jades’ moniker was accurate twice over, because they were nearly identical to the point that you currently could only tell the difference due to Lan Wangji’s stone-faced apathy toward everyone and everything in the room but Wei Wuxian.

Chapter Text

You had maybe four seconds to admire the esteemed Hanguang-jun’s full visage before he was close enough to make it both improper and uncomfortable. At least two of those seconds were spent suppressing a swell of hysteria when the loose ends of his forehead ribbon fluttered in the air behind him like a stallion’s mane. There was just something about it, man! You wanted to giggle so bad! 

In a flash, Lan Wangji was seated beside Wei Wuxian, posture straight and ethics-book-proper if not for pressing himself flush to his husband’s side. Startlingly golden eyes drifted to you, almost aimlessly, but they held an intensity that made your muscles tense on principle. 

For his part, Wei Wuxian practically melted into the touch. As he gazed up at Lan Wangji, his eyes became round and doeish in a way that arose within you an envy as deep as your intrigue, and a curiosity as profound as your disgust.

“Lan Zhan, why’d you come in?” he protested, unbridled delight in his voice. Ah, love.

Lan Wangji’s eyes slid back to Wei Wuxian. Their arms were suddenly around each other, though you didn’t remember seeing their position change.

“It has been a shichen,” Lan Wangji replied simply. “Wei Ying did not leave.” 

Oh, shit, it’d been that long already. Time flew with friends and good food. 

Glancing awkwardly at you, Wei Wuxian sighed. “Punctual as ever, er-ge.” He flapped a hand in your direction, cheek squishing against Lan Wangji’s shoulder as he leaned at least ninety percent of his weight into him. “Right, so, this is my husband Lan Zhan. You might’ve heard of him.” 

“Certainly,” you obliged. 

Wei Wuxian hummed, pleased. “And, Lan Zhan, this is my new friend.~” As he rattled off an introduction of your name and general relevance, a flutter of delight warmed your heart that you’d achieved friend status already. Even with such a friendly person, it was always nice to be considered such. 

When your eyes refocused, Lan Wangji was staring at you. It was impossible to discern what type of stare this was—you were getting a certain vibe from him, but you gave up on identifying it quickly due to the oppressive neutrality of his expression. 

“—We were just talking about having lessons!” Wei Wuxian finished. 

“No good,” Lan Wangji said instantly.

Your stomach flipped. “Huh?” 

“What? Lan Zhan, so rude!” Wei Wuxian whined, clinging to his husband’s arm like a hapless maiden.

The duality of the Yiling Laozu: peculiar genius independently, coy strumpet in the presence of his husband. 

“The job would be on behalf of Yunmeng Jiang,” Lan Wangji intoned by way of explanation. 

Ahhh, he definitely didn’t get along with Jiang Wanyin, like Wei Wuxian said. This was going to be difficult. 

“Technically,” you tried, “it’s for my own curiosity. But, we were just saying how traveling too often would be a pain, so we were gonna figure out a potential schedule. Like, monthly, alternating which of us travels, or even every other month. I don’t think exchanging letters would be a bad idea, but y’know.” You gestured to Wei Wuxian. “Up to the expert.”

Eyes darting between you and Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian played with the loose length of his husband’s forehead ribbon as he attempted to be placating. “Ah, like I said, Lan Zhan isn’t too keen on my visits to Yunmeng. I’m on thin ice just being here right now, ha ha…” 

As if in approval, Lan Wangji nodded, once and firm. 

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you addressed the man who was currently in the way of your intel on Jiang Wanyin. “This collaboration was originally your brother’s idea—I don’t know why he might want us to chat beyond making friends or the like, so maybe your esteemed self could offer some insight?” 

Perhaps Lan Wangji couldn’t back down from a straightforward question, but he took your half-BS’d inquiry in stride. His thinking-face was also identical to every other face he’d made so far. 

“Brother has not been as sociable as he once was,” he murmured. “This may be one such manner in returning to his former disposition. He wants his friends to befriend one another. It is his nature to desire everyone to get along.” 

The words were heavy in a way you weren’t capable of understanding. Again some knowledge of the recent past flashed in your mind—Yunping City, the previous sect leader of Lanling Jin dying after a horrible betrayal of the people’s trust, Lan Xichen’s mentioned seclusion. Yeah, he was traumatized like the rest of ’em. But Lan Wangji’s explanation just made you sad in a way you couldn’t explain. 

Those golden eyes fixed you in place, and your posture righted itself once more. He finished, “I am only worried for Wei Ying’s safety in associating with Yunmeng.” 

Skipping all the important parts for context, it seemed! Puzzle time: 

“Only,” as in exclusively—there was no other reason for Lan Wangji’s disapproval, so you yourself were (probably) in the clear. “Associating with Yunmeng” was anything from merely speaking with you, a Yunmeng-based merchant, to physically being in the region. No doubt, he’d stuck close by in case Jiang Wanyin somehow heard of this innocuous meeting and ripped into Wei Wuxian like he allegedly had last time they saw one another. 

But… 

Your gaze detached from Lan Wangji’s—this was more than enough eye contact for the day, thank you so much—and watched Wei Wuxian’s expressions twitch between pensive and determined. 

“I think,” he said slowly while his mind worked fast, “I would like to do this. Lessons, I mean.” He cracked a smile, laugh lines etching into his skin like the folds of warm dough. “After all, I only just got permission to start interacting with the junior disciples again. Maybe if this guniang learns something from me, Old Man Lan will let me teach the kiddos at Cloud Recesses someday, eh, Lan Zhan?~”

Impassive as ever, Lan Wangji gazed at his partner and said nothing. 

Like you thought: Lan Wangji couldn’t—and wouldn’t—control Wei Wuxian’s actions. A good sign! Both for their marriage and for your prospective knowledge about Jiang Wanyin. And cultivation. Cultivation was the important part… yeah… 

“Goodie,” you said with a shortage of enthusiasm for your own humor. “I have literally no idea where to start. That’s all on you, Wei-laoshi.” 

Wei Wuxian broke out into a wide grin; you swore you could see Lan Wangji’s pupils dilate at the sight. “Aw, you can do better than that!” Wei Wuxian goaded, leaning in so his stomach pressed into the table’s edge. “Call me Shizun.~” 

“Ah,” your face warmed, “no, I don’t think so.” 

While Wei Wuxian expressed his disappointment (and quickly derailed himself with a facetious tangent about disrespectful Lan juniors), you adjusted to Lan Wangji’s intimidating gaze. The more you glanced at those sun-like eyes—ha, you couldn’t even summon the courage to meet them for more than a few seconds at a time!—the more convinced you were that this was his natural disposition. Hanguang-jun was indeed the epitome of tranquility and composure, his silent strength emanating in every conceivable manner. It was as impressive as it was perturbing, that stillness and power as if he was an immaculately carved statue cultivated to life. 

… And it all was completely undermined by that freaking silly forehead ribbon! 

Uncertain of how to stop your gaze from flicking up to it every few seconds, you tried to give Wei Wuxian some “please help” stares between rebellions of your lingering eyeballs. Due to your questionable luck, he picked up on it mid-sentence, his words trickling to a pause as a slow, evil grin spread across his face. 

“Wondering about the infamous Lan forehead ribbon, are you, guniang?~” he purred, and oh no, that tone would bring only bad things into the conversation. 

“I mean,” you said weakly, abandoning your dignity in seconds, “sure, please enlighten me…” You’d drawn your conclusions based on your singular conversation with Lan Xichen, but it’d be good to aid your already failing memory… but the way Wei Wuxian fingered the end of his husband’s forehead ribbon while making direct eye contact with you was ominous at best. 

“Well,” he started, draping his arm around Lan Wangji’s shoulders without moving the man a millimeter, “they’re a symbol of restraint—of the spirit and the body.~ Which, my friend, is a natural lead into that very topic you’d asked of me some insight not too long ago!” 

Huh? 

“… Dual cultivation!” 

… Huh?!

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji’s mouth twitched; you could only assume this meant he was hitting his limit. 

“Listen,” you tried very hard not to sound too pleading, “I was curious ’cause you brought it up, but is it really alright to talk about it in public, or even with your, uh, cultivation partner sitting right here?” 

More words threatened to spill out in a panic, but Wei Wuxian took your next inhale to butt back in. 

“Oh, what’s the big deal? Dual cultivation is important between spouses. And don’t worry, guniang, you don’t need to feel left out, ’cause you don’t even have to do the deed to cultivate together! Though it does tend to be that way for me and Lan Zhan, heh.~ I say end the stigma!” 

That was… a lot. But, glancing at Lan Wangji (and his forehead ribbon) again, he made no move and took no breath to stop Wei Wuxian from barreling down the avenue of this topic. 

“Just, please keep your voice down…” you muttered. Propriety wasn’t generally on your priority list, but when it came to public discussions of sex, well… anyone normal would be embarrassed! 

Given permission, Wei Wuxian chattered away. “So, theoretically, the concept of dual cultivation is sharing your qi with another partner, but technically speaking, it can be extended to multiple partners, since the basis of the actual process is synchronizing your qi and using as much physical contact as possible. It’s more effective with… eh, well, a variety of factors, but if there’s more focus and more contact—which is easiest with one and maybe two partners if you really know what you’re doing—then your cores will strengthen and share a common energy that tends to bond you. Metaphysically, that is. So, considering the methods and natural effects, cultivators have historically practiced the fun way.~” 

Wei Wuxian wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. You tried not to laugh, but his charm really was magnetic, and you couldn’t help but smile along, a small huff escaping you. All the while, Lan Wangji kept his calm gaze on his husband, not reacting whatsoever as Wei Wuxian remained draped against him. 

He continued, “I can only speak from my own experience for this one, but I really can’t imagine trying to dual cultivate with someone you’re not in love with. For the actual effects, though, I’ll tell ya, I definitely get more out of it when I’m doin’ the deed with my Lan Zhan.” Lan Wangji’s hand flexed on Wei Wuxian’s hip, making even you shiver. “But sometimes, it’s just nice to lay around and let our qi work on its own, y’know?” 

In fact, you did not know. 

“It feels different, too,” Wei Wuxian mused. “When Lan Zhan’s absolutely going at it,” you cringed, “it feels like we literally connect—I mean, yeah, that’s how sex works, but I mean our meridians! Our energy is… fused, merging, like rivers collecting in the same ocean.” The misty-eyed look on his face made you wonder not for the first time whether sex was actually something you were missing out on. 

But then Wei Wuxian went on a long, detailed tangent about his sexual exploits with his husband, and you decided also not for the first time that no, sex was kind of gross and you were correct not to find appeal in it. 

Midway through these stories, you gathered the courage to glance around at the nearest people—thankfully a few tables off, for now—and it seemed that Wei Wuxian was managing to keep his voice down enough that few other patrons were distracted from their meals by his lascivious tales. Once, you did accidentally catch someone’s eye from across the room, but they quickly looked away, clearly embarrassed to be caught listening in. You couldn’t blame them either way; gossip was a legitimate hobby for some people. 

After Wei Wuxian dove into a story about Lan Wangji bringing a jar of Emperor’s Smile into the mix, and not for drinking, you couldn’t hold back your need for a subject change. “So what about when you’re not having wild sex in questionable places?” you interrupted sufferingly.

Blinking in surprise, Wei Wuxian nodded as if you’d reminded him that was even a thing he did. “Yeah! Sometimes I can just sleep on top of Lan Zhan and we’ll start to sync up—or, it doesn’t actually work when you’re asleep, but you know what I mean. It can be instinctive, just being close and sensing your partner’s qi.” 

A strange feeling tickled the back of your memory, but you couldn’t place it well enough to turn it into a question. Instead, you asked, “Can you explain that some more? Or, a lot, actually?” If you ended up with a cultivation partner, this was exactly something you wanted in your catalogue of intimacy. Also, you were getting story ideas, almost against your will. A few of your original characters came to mind—ones you reused for miscellaneous short works. 

Hand creeping toward Lan Wangji’s dantian, Wei Wuxian coyly said, “Ah, if only I could give you a demonstration…~” From the stories he’d provided just now, you feared Lan Wangji would actually be interested in staking his claim in such a way. “But, I’ll spare you. Unless?” 

He backed down when you shook your head emphatically enough. 

“Right.” Wei Wuxian patted Lan Wangji’s belly. It was such an absurd sight, you had to distract yourself with a draft of water. “So, if your meridians line up, or your cores touch, or your energy generally resonates with your partner, that can instigate the process. But it’s gotta be purposeful on both parts—it’s different from just feeding someone your qi. You’re bolstering each other from the inside. That’s why it’s easier to dual cultivate sexually.” 

“Physical pleasure releases inhibitions,” Lan Wangji interjected in a low voice, “resulting in increased blood flow to muscles, unrestrained spirit, and dilated meridians; an overall accepting state. It is the most efficient process.” 

The man did have a nice voice—calm and deep, like his brother’s. His words were concise and unembellished, and he spoke at the perfect volume to be heard by the intended group. You’d be jealous if not for—

Okay, the forehead ribbon wasn’t silly enough to continue ragging on it. Plus, Wei Wuxian had provided an anecdote about being tied up by that very fabric, and you couldn’t look at it the same anymore. 

Still, the pedestal of sexual cultivation was bothering you. 

“But dual cultivation isn’t limited to sex,” you prodded. “Sure, physical touch is necessary, but it sounds like there’s an emotional component, too.”

Lan Wangji’s brows lifted a hair’s breadth. You would boost your ego by assuming he was impressed. “That is correct. Emotional and physical vulnerability heighten the results.” 

Wei Wuxian purred, “And boy, are we—” 

“I get it, Wei-xiong,” you nearly whined. Even you had your limits. An incense time of sexual exploits, you sat through! None of which contained your kinks! 

You saw Lan Wangji blink twice. Wei Wuxian saw the same, and got something completely different from it. 

“Right?” Wei Wuxian laughed, drumming his fingers on his husband’s chest. “Isn’t she the spitting image of Nie-xiong?” 

The statue of a man did not look away from you. “Mn.”

Laughing nervously, you fidgeted with your hands beneath the table. A fan to hide behind would be amazing right now. “Okay, message received, I really need to meet this Nie guy at some point. Can we get back to dual cultivation? Methods not involving getting naked?” 

A shrug from Wei Wuxian. “Lan Zhan and I have more firsthand experience with the naked type of method.” 

“You sure do,” you said wearily. 

“But I did allude to the other way, so here goes.” 

Oh, thank fuck. Metaphorically. 

Then Wei Wuxian shifted to kneel behind Lan Wangji, and you twisted your head frantically to check for bystanders (it was before the dinner rush, but only just!). “Uh, Wei-xiong?” 

“To demonstrate,” Wei Wuxian chirped. His chin was hooked over Lan Wangji’s shoulder, and his hands covered his lower dantian. 

A nervous flush began to prickle in your cheeks. “Are we forgetting we’re in public right now?” 

“Of course not!” Wei Wuxian sounded playfully affronted. “I’m simply using my Lan Zhan as a model, since I know him best.~ He’s pretty enough to be a model, isn’t that right, Lan Zhan?~” 

“Vanity is prohibited,” Lan Wangji uttered, but it wasn’t a denial. 

Breathing shallowly as if it would evade attention from the tables nearby, you stared while Wei Wuxian traced up Lan Wangji’s meridians and followed their flow with his fingertips. 

“Your qi must resonate,” he explained. “Doesn’t matter where. But it’s most effective the more your meridians align. Best when your cores touch.” 

White-clothed back pressed to black-clothed front. Even though they were fully dressed, you felt like just looking at them was indecent, certain that this couple would physically melt into each other if they could. Wei Wuxian’s hand swept up Lan Wangji’s body, then down, and settled once more on his dantian. 

“Physical contact.” Inward push, shadows making a divot in Lan Wangji’s robe. “Good for stabilizing discorded qi in a pinch. But,” he grinned and brushed his nose on Lan Wangji’s jaw, “causes physical sensations in a way normal qi sensing doesn’t. Full resonation,” a touch on each of Lan Wangji’s pulse points, “is basically like sex, sans penetration.” 

He ignored your glare for saying it like that. More patrons had entered the inn for dinner, and you feared what you’d see if you checked whether anyone had noticed this conversation. 

“Not gonna lie, the first time we dual cultivated this way by accident, I cried a bit. It was like…” Using his husband as a prop, Wei Wuxian wound his arms around that thick torso and played with his collar. Guess this was his new seat now. “When a cave is blocked out by rubble, and a few pieces of the rubble get loosened, just enough to let the sun shine in. Seals right back up when you stop. Next time we did it, but on purpose, the rocks all tumbled down. Gotta say, it’s really weird, feeling your emotions like that when you’re sort of ignoring them the rest of the time.” 

Wei Wuxian laughed as though he didn’t just say something incredibly sad. “Anyway, that’s all I can say without drawing diagrams or something. Lotus Pier’s got more manuals on dual cultivation than Cloud Recesses, so you can probably sneak into the library and snag one while Jiang Cheng isn’t looking.” 

Smile thinning, you shook your head. “I’ll pass on committing robbery.” 

Not to mention, Lan Wangji looked like he was about to tape his husband’s mouth shut for mentioning Yunmeng Jiang. 

But you still hadn’t gotten enough intel, the fuck?!

Chapter Text

Laying aside your own dissatisfaction for the moment, you coaxed Wei Wuxian back to the subject of your newly established lessons. Wei Wuxian lived spontaneously, and your own schedule was whatever you wanted it to be (business with Yunmeng Jiang notwithstanding), so a bit of chatting was enough to close things out. Once a few plans were made and logistics were agreed upon, you glanced tentatively at Lan Wangji. 

“Before we leave, may I ask for a moment of privacy with Wei-xiong?” 

Lan Wangji’s expression did not change, yet you felt the force of a thousand suns toasting you like a piece of flatbread. 

Welp, no way out of it. Honesty was policy. 

Giving him an exasperated look, you said, “Hanguang-jun, I would like to ask something about Jiang-zongzhu. You obviously don’t like him, so I’m trying to spare your hard-earned inner peace, here.” 

“Ha,” Wei Wuxian tugged at the tail of Lan Wangji’s forehead ribbon, “she’s being so considerate, Lan Zhan! Go wait outside like a dutiful husband, m’kay?~” 

Ignoring how Lan Wangji appeared on the brink of muscling his way into staying, you waited patiently as he rose to his feet. To your surprise, Lan Wangji gave you a short bow, which you returned with a bit more longevity from your seat. And thus, Lan Wangji drifted out of the inn with all the ethereal composure with which he’d entered. 

You only stared after him for a very appropriate several seconds before returning your attention to Wei Wuxian. His eyes flicked rapidly between you and his retreating husband, unable to commit to one until you stared at him with your brows raised. Then, he gave you a deeply unsettling grin. 

“So,” he said innocently, that tone prickling your nerves like cascades of ant legs, “you have a question about my shidi?~” 

Well, you had a lot of questions about his shidi, but you had to be choosy about which you asked. Bother him too much and risk breaking his acquaintance. 

“Obviously there’s a lot to ask,” you confessed, “but most of all…” 

Wei Wuxian’s brows lifted higher with each second you hesitated. Ugh, you hadn’t felt this nerve-numbing anxiety in half a decade. Would your brain manage to pick a question? 

The Yiling Laozu became so amused with your indecisive silence, his grin made him look ten years younger. 

Looking at him, you suddenly thought of Jin Ling.

“… What was his family like?” 

In an instant, his face fell. Shit. 

“You don’t have to answer,” you said hastily, grabbing the jar of alcohol left by the server and filling his cup. “I’ll pick a different question.” 

“No,” Wei Wuxian said, but the cheer in his voice was clearly fake. “I’ll tell you.” 

“I don’t mean to dig up anything painful,” you tried to explain, but he waved you off. 

“No, no. I want to.” He took a deep breath. “I want to talk about them.” 

Whether he was convincing you or himself, it wasn’t your place to say. 

Before he began, Wei Wuxian took your offering of the inn’s home-crafted wine and downed it in one gulp. His opinion of it wasn’t clear, only wiping his mouth on the back of his hand with a subdued sigh. 

“My parents died when I was eight or nine. Ah,” he interrupted himself with a laugh that was thankfully more genuine, “that’s a great way to start things off. Like, oops, I was a homeless orphan for a while there!” 

“Weren’t we all,” you joked in what you hoped was a blasé enough tone for it to land. Fortunately, you earned a grin. 

“Then, Sect Leader Jiang found me. Well, the previous one—Jiang Fengmian. My father was his servant, so I called him Jiang-shushu.” 

It could’ve been a tedious story, or a rushed one, but Wei Wuxian had a knack for storytelling. Even though he claimed intermittently that his memory was vague, you found you didn’t mind if any parts of his story were embellished. He told you about Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan, his shijie and his shidi, his friends who were Jiang Wanyin’s friends by proxy. If you ever found the courage to ask Jiang Wanyin himself, you desired to know how close he felt those friends had been to him, not just in relation to Wei Wuxian. 

Only a few short sentences on Wei Wuxian’s pseudo-adoptive parents were all you needed to confirm your suspicions. Jiang Wanyin’s family was messed up in a way you’d only seen in a few personal instances—but in the subsequent tales he wove, you heard how the children of that dysfunctional family had grown to be good people. 

Good old confirmation bias. After the horrors Wei Wuxian described in brief, little could convince you that Jiang Wanyin was a bad person. He’d grown up with an unstable family dynamic, one neglectful parent and one outright cruel parent, and it was unclear from his nonchalance whether Wei Wuxian even recognized this about their life. You couldn’t know how the Jiang parents behaved, not really, but Jiang Fengmian sounded detached from the family he made with his wife, and Yu Ziyuan seemed a spitting image of her son. 

All you knew for sure was the present. Jiang Wanyin’s attitude needed some adjusting, but it was nothing you hadn’t encountered before. Nothing you couldn’t handle, as long as he didn’t come to hate you. 

More than anything, though, your heart ached as you heard about Jiang Yanli. At that point, Wei Wuxian paused, and it didn’t take a scholar to understand that memories of her took the worst toll on him. 

“Shijie protected us way more than we could ever thank her for,” he murmured. “Looking back on it, I was deluding myself that I was part of the family.” Then he shook his head, a frown cutting into his pretty face. “That’s not the right word, sorry. It was wishful thinking more than anything. I played with Jiang Cheng even though I knew Madam Yu forbade him from it—and he ignored the order, too. And I went to Shijie whenever I was hurt or wanted praise. She was more of a mom for Jiang Cheng and me than her own mother was.” 

The longer he spoke of his martial sister, the older and more world-weary he appeared. The natural shadows under his eyes seemed a bit deeper, and the lines of his youthful face seemed to linger even when they vanished. 

“Jiang Cheng smuggled Shijie to Yiling on her wedding day,” he said, misty-eyed, “for me. I wasn’t allowed to see them at that point, but they did it anyway. She even brought soup—our favorite, lotus root and pork rib. No one else could make it like her. Still can’t.” His eyes were locked on the empty bowls on the table, bottoms spotted with oily broth. “Shijie gave Wen Ning a bowl, and I remember thinking it was the worst tragedy of the day that he couldn’t taste it. Ah,” he brightened, a glint of sunlight reflected on water, “I haven’t talked about Wen Ning, have I? He’s in my top three best friends.” 

“Wen Ning,” you repeated, knowing that name from somewhere, and oh, that’s a Wen, and Wei Wuxian is close to him, “the, uh, Ghost General?” 

“Precisely that one,” Wei Wuxian said sagely. But that glimmer of joy was disrupted like a stone tossed on the lake. “He’s… a big part of why Jiang Cheng and I don’t talk anymore.” 

The weight behind that sentence could’ve forged a canyon. “As nosy as I might be,” you entreated, “please don’t exert yourself for my sake.” 

At some point Wei Wuxian had removed his flute from his sleeve and began to fidget with it. “Do you offer that disclaimer out of real worry,” he pondered, eyes flicking you up and down, “or is it because you don’t know how to handle people when they’re upset?” 

“Wow!” you said. “Shut up, please.” 

Both of you shared a chuckle. 

“It’s really alright,” he said, thumbing the notches of his flute. Unconsciously, your own fingers kneaded into your thigh, imagining how it would feel to press into the hand-warmed metal as you watched him. “It’s surprisingly nice to talk things out with someone who has no stake in it.” 

… Maybe you wouldn’t mention you were interested in his shidi a bit more than was proper. 

Wei Wuxian stared at the mostly-devoured dishes of food, turning something over in his mind. “Maybe I’ll tell you more someday,” he murmured, “in private.” Glancing up, he met your eyes and absorbed your surprise. “Suffice to say, Wen Ning was blunt about something that hurt Jiang Cheng quite a lot and was ultimately my fault. We had a pretty bad fight about it, and that was the, uh… second-to-last time I saw him, actually. The last time was when Jin Guangyao tried to kill us.” 

Blinking a few times, you tried very hard to remember who Jin Guangyao was. This did not work, but he explained in brief when you asked. That Jin Guangyao guy was all sorts of fucked up, sheeeesh. 

“So,” he continued, “I’ve tried my best to get updates about Jiang Cheng from Jin Ling whenever I see him—which isn’t all that much, since he’s busy running his own sect. They grow up so fast.” 

The joke somehow didn’t land with either you or himself. 

“I’ve met Jin Ling,” you said, because it’d been a while since you contributed to the conversation. 

Wei Wuxian perked up. “Oh. Really? How’d that happen? You go to Lanling with your parents or something?” 

“No, but I’m sure I will. We do a lot of business over there.” 

You explained how Jin Ling was visiting his uncle and you’d encountered him in the market by sheer accident. However, when you began to gush over the boy’s enormous and very fluffy spirit dog, Wei Wuxian’s complexion took a turn for the ill. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, alarmed by the concerning pallor of his face. 

“Yeah,” he wheezed, “don’t worry, it’s just…” His knuckles turned white as he gripped his flute as if to ground himself. “I don’t like dogs.” 

“That’s putting it mildly,” you noted, guilty yet intrigued by the severe reaction just hearing about one. Even if there was a story behind such a blatant phobia, you wouldn’t ask. (Not without fair warning, at least.) “Sorry, I won’t mention Fairy again.”

He smiled thinly. “Thanks.” 

Glancing cautiously in the direction of the dining hall’s exit, you willed Hanguang-jun not to come running at the slightest sense of his husband’s discomfort, and you continued. “Anyhow, Jiang-zongzhu showed up barely a minute later. That was, um… the second time we met, I think? It was kinda funny that it happened, like, two days after that other incident.” 

We Wuxian nodded along, eagerly distracted away from the existence of dogs. 

“Jin Ling’s a cute kid,” you mused, reminiscing on your three-minute acquaintance with the young adult. “I’ll probably see him again. Heh, not like anyone can stop me.” You weren’t one to flaunt your family’s power, but for something innocuous as seeing Jiang Wanyin’s nephew in pursuit of pinching his cheeks, where was the harm? 

A smirk crawled onto Wei Wuxian’s face, mirroring yours. “Fun fact: I’m Jin Ling’s uncle twice over.~” 

You blinked a few times. “Because… you died?” you guessed, voice a bit strangled. 

“And reincarnated—into the body of a Jin.” 

… Oooohhhhhhhhh, you hadn’t thought about that part. He did need someone’s body to occupy, didn’t he? All the rumors of possession and whatnot had flown right over your head. Not to mention the probable dysphoria from occupying a completely different body?! 

“That is,” you muttered, “so complicated.” 

Wei Wuxian shrugged. “Sorta. I’ve just sorta gone with the flow.” He leaned back again and caught himself, and you wondered if Lan Wangji really had glued himself to his husband’s side to the point where Wei Wuxian unconsciously expected him to be there. “But yeah, Mo Xuanyu was a bastard child of that-sect-leader-who-shall-remain-redacted, which made him the Peacock—Jin Zixuan’s half-brother, who is—was Jin Ling’s father, even if he still was never good enough for my shijie… so nobody can dispute that regardless of the circumstance, I am,” he pointed the end of his flute at you, tassel swaying, “Jin Ling’s uncle.” 

That family tree was a wholeass jungle even if you weren’t trying to follow that maze of roots and branches in your head. 

“How much does Jin Ling appreciate you pointing that out?” you teased, though also curious. 

“Very much,” Wei Wuxian lied sagely. 

Shaking your head with fondness warming your heart for both Jin Ling and the man in front of you, the orange glow of the sun peeking through a window caught your eye. 

“Will you tell me more next time?” you asked hastily. Even though you were in an inn, you still would rather set off for home before the sun went down. Plus, if you spent much longer in public, not to mention in conversation, you risked emotional collapse. (The threshold was much further than it used to be, but you could feel it creeping toward you like the shadows of trees at twilight.) 

When Wei Wuxian paused in response to your question, your heart thudded in spontaneous anxiety. Did you sound too desperate? Were you being too nosy after all? Had he picked up on your ulterior motives, or assumed the worst about them? 

But before you could blurt out another disclaimer about reopening old wounds and such, he said, “Yeah, of course. Why not, right?” 

The way his voice came out, you thought he might be lying—but not about his promise. What was it in those trembling words? Insecurity…? 

“Thank you,” you said, and you meant for everything. From the softening of his lips into a smile that made him glow, you knew he understood.

Chapter Text

Ultimately, and to your disapproval, Wei Wuxian paid for your shared meal. Such things weren’t a matter of pride for you, but rather of misaligned guilt for taking up so much of his time and other reasons. For better or worse, your bruised feelings were kissed better by Wei Wuxian heartily bragging about all his money coming from his Lan Zhan’s wallet. It was cute and funny, what could you say? 

For a minute you questioned whether you should be seen leaving an inn with the literal Yiling Laozu, but in the end, you just didn’t have enough fucks to give. The thought of his own reputation didn’t even seem to cross his mind. 

What greeted you outside was the illustrious Hanguang-jun holding the reins of a donkey. For obvious reasons, your brain did not keep up with current events for a hot few seconds. 

“Um?” you said. 

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian cheered as he flounced up to Lan Wangji, “allow me to introduce you to Little Apple.~” 

“The donkey,” you said warily. Little Apple seemed deeply disinterested in you, and also looked like it was about to commit arson. 

“Little Apple’s favorite food is apples,” Wei Wuxian explained. 

Ah, yes. Classic pet naming conventions. Though, from the disgruntled frown on its muzzle, you felt like calling this donkey a “pet” would earn you a spot at the top of its shit list, which it definitely had. 

“Should I… bring an apple for Little Apple, next time…?” you asked cautiously. 

While Wei Wuxian shrugged off your question, Lan Wangji took out an apple from thin air (magic sleeves? Wait, could they store food in their qiankun pouches?!) and glanced between you and the donkey. Hesitantly, you approached and took the fruit from Lan Wangji. A flash of temptation nearly made you intentionally brush your fingers with his, but you quashed it out of respect. 

The two men watched with vague and interested stares, respectively, as you held out the apple in a safe grip to the blatantly unimpressed donkey. It seemed to roll its eyes at you even while snatching the fruit from your hand, and kindly left all your fingers intact. You had the feeling of a near-death experience. 

“I should,” you croaked, “go, I think.” 

Wei Wuxian nodded, throwing his arms wide. Your own arms curled up in front of you on instinct, bracing for impact. When Wei Wuxian went in for a hearty glomp, you stared in stiff confusion as Lan Wangji watched this with a completely impassive—okay, that was how he always looked. But apparently Wei Wuxian did this often enough that Lan Wangji wasn’t threatened by the affection toward you. 

After a second, you wormed one arm over his shoulder and patted his back awkwardly, and Wei Wuxian’s chest stuttered against yours as he laughed. “That’s not gonna cut it if you wanna ‘befriend’ Jiang Cheng, Miss Ma'am.~” 

Heart thumping, you knocked your knuckles lightly on his noggin and ignored Lan Wangji’s sudden extra-intense stare. “I have no idea what you mean by that,” you denied very convincingly. 

He pulled away and moved to ruffle your hair, but you ducked from the touch and waved your hands threateningly in his direction. Taking it in stride, Wei Wuxian leaned toward you and said secretively, “Jiang Cheng only responds to aggression—even if it’s cuteness-aggression. Just keep that in mind, eh? Industry secrets.~” 

This was all very enlightening, but you nodded warily, uneasy from his attempts to touch your head. 

But the sight of him turning to depart made an odd sense of desperation swell within you, and you couldn’t help but blurt out, “Wait.” 

Wei Wuxian paused. Lan Wangji behind him flicked his eyes back on you. 

Swallowing thickly, you gestured for Wei Wuxian to return while taking a step forward. Once he obliged, you—under the watchful eye of Lan Wangji—leaned close and spoke under your breath. “Is there a reason you haven’t tried to speak to Jiang-zongzhu again?” 

Despite the efforts to be quiet, you saw Lan Wangji’s lips tick downward from the corner of your eye. Figured. Cultivators had super-hearing. At least you tried. 

For his part, Wei Wuxian formed that slightly-off smile from whenever he’d spoken of the past today. “He doesn’t want to see me,” he sighed, also keeping his voice low. “He made that clear when I came back.” 

It’s not my business, it’s not my business, it’s not my business, it’s not my business…  

But no matter how much you chanted it in your head, you could only doubt Wei Wuxian’s words. Every sign, every horrible attempt to conceal his regrets and yearnings, pointed to the simple fact that Wei Wuxian wished to reconnect with his last remaining family. And of course you weren’t a telepath, but why, if Jiang Wanyin hated this man so much, had he left him alone for these few years after they last parted? Why would he leave him to his idyllic life and do nothing, not fight for his execution, like he allegedly did the first time? 

The feeling was deep and instinctive, like the undertow to drag you out to sea. Getting involved in their problems would drown you. 

Or it could free them from drowning, themselves. 

“I’m sure,” you said quietly, Wei Wuxian’s lovely eyes on you as you stood close, “that time was full of heightened emotions.” Taking a step back, you bowed to him deeply. “I hope you can put your heart at peace, Wei Wuxian.” 

He laughed with audible strain, uncertain what to do with your words. “Ah, please, not so formal. Wei-xiong was fine.” 

Having taken your revenge for that hug a moment ago, you straightened up and tried to smile like a normal person. “Thanks again, Wei-xiong. Nice meeting you.” 

“Likewise.” 

Lan Wangji made quick work of whisking his husband away so your goodbyes couldn’t linger. He hefted Wei Wuxian onto the donkey, which grumbled but accepted another bribery of an apple from Lan Wangji’s magic sleeves, and led him down the road without looking back. 

When you had the courage to tear your eyes away from their retreating forms, a handful of the people in the street had been distracted from their goings-on by the magnificent cultivator guiding a donkey with its rowdy fare down the street. Shaking your head with mild incredulity, you found your way to your own carriage, and settled in for a long while of thinking. 

~

After meeting Wei Wuxian, you knew one thing for certain: He and Jiang Wanyin needed to make up. 

From Wei Wuxian’s end, the longing gazes into the distance were really too much; plus, you had doubtlessly already joined Jin Ling on Wei Wuxian’s running “intel about Jiang Wanyin” list. May as well cut out the middleman, right? The only issue came from whether Jiang Wanyin felt the same way—if he wanted to reconcile his issues with Wei Wuxian or remain on their separate paths in the jianghu, parallel but too distant to touch. 

Digging briefly into recent memory, you couldn’t recall if Jiang Wanyin had shown any interest in reconnecting with his now-alive shixiong. No matter how hard you tried to justify yourself, this whole mess remained nowhere remotely close to being your business, but at this point, it was just sad. Puzzling out Jiang Wanyin’s feelings on the matter wouldn’t hurt him if you were sneaky about it. That would require some hefty thinking before you brought it up with him, but you hadn’t made any promises, so there was no rush. 

Speaking of which, you had some visits to make to your family’s treasury and its workers. That was a problem for tomorrow. Upon arriving home, it was an odd hour where you weren’t quite hungry, but would have to request dinner of the servants uncomfortably late. Even though your family paid everybody quite well, you still felt bad making anyone work past normal hours. But sometimes it was unavoidable—you just couldn’t function at the hours most others did, and that hadn’t changed since you were little. 

Instead, you decided to procure something that’d sit well on your work desk while you futzed around until you felt like eating. Heading to the kitchens, you were drawn to a particular pot boiling rather aromatically on the stovetop. 

“A-Ri?” you called. The head chef of your family’s kitchens looked up from her inventory, one or two kitchen assistants still bustling around on her orders. “What type of stew is this?” 

Hong Ri hummed. After sundown, she lacked the energy to maintain her usual fervor. “Using the rest of our pork stock to take home to our families.” She gave you a sideward glance, and you grinned sheepishly. This time you weren’t planning on sneaking a spoonful, but it was only because you were still full from your extended meal with Wei Wuxian. 

Now that she mentioned it, the scent of the pork highlighted itself as you inhaled. Something from today glinted like a coin on the side of a road. 

“Do you know how to make lotus root and pork rib soup?” 

She turned to you with a hint of surprise. It wasn’t like you didn’t often implore her to find recipes you heard offhand, so this look she gave you made you shrink self-consciously. “Lotus root?” she repeated. 

You made eye contact with the forbidden stew pot. “And pork rib.” 

After a moment, Hong Ri made a sound of affirmation. “Simple recipe. You want to try?” 

Sometimes, you’d shadow the kitchen staff in an attempt to make your own food. Ones you could replicate if you found the motivation to cook without supervision. But, this recipe… 

“Never mind,” you said. 

A plate of pork buns being whisked off for storage caught your eye, and you made your decision. Who were you to bring home a new recipe, anyway? Just because a new friend mentioned…? 

Suddenly, your throat felt thick. “Maybe some other time.” 

You would try to make it once the weather turned. It was much too hot for soup. 

Yes, much too hot.

Chapter Text

It had been just about the normal amount of time between letters from Songbird—a fact you were reminded of when one arrived mid-week. He sent with it a watercolor painting of a mountain view from Qinghe, and you yearned to visit soon, when the weather really took a turn for the sweltering. A shame that you couldn’t spend more than a few hours with him, since you were both supposed to be anonymous to one another. 

A stray dog in town had a whole litter of pups last week, Songbird wrote. They were running around all over the place, and we had to find a shelter to take them in. I would’ve cried for days if anything happened to those sweet babies.  

Reading this, you smiled at the thought of Songbird’s crying voice. He was always so competent when he met with you, if a bit gossipy, but you’d seen glimpses of a bratty, lackadaisical man every so often, mostly in these letters. 

I got to visit the puppies once the vets checked them over. They’re so cute! Ahh, Curiosity, you’ve gotta go find some dogs wherever you are. Do it! Tomorrow, even!! 

 

Yours, 

Songbird

Well, you couldn’t argue with that. 

A few days’ recoup from your meeting with Wei Wuxian was enough that this prompting from your friend could get you out of your room and back into society. There were several animal breeders and rescue shelters around the region, but the closest one was a shichen away, near the border to Lanling. You’d visit on occasion, maybe once every year or two, because there were enough strays locally that you needn’t go out of your way to find one. But honestly, you really felt like taking a day to pet fluffy animals that wouldn’t snap at you first, so off you went in your personal carriage. 

While you traveled, you stared out the window and pondered how Wei Wuxian had mentioned flying on his sword. Technically you could commission a super nice one for yourself, and even go through a subsidiary that worked with your family, but you didn’t know how to use a sword the regular way, let alone as a mode of transportation. Maybe that was something you could bother Jiang Wanyin about as an excuse to stick around a bit longer. 

Coming up on the front entrance of the shelter, you stuck your head out the window and refamiliarized yourself with the surrounding buildings. Some houses, some shops… ooh, that restaurant sold cold noodles! You could go there in a few hours…

The carriage rolled to a stop, and you hopped out, chatting briefly with your driver before making your way through the gate. More serious animal adoption centers fenced off their property to avoid thieves or runaway animals, and while this wasn’t the richest or most renowned breeder, they did own enough land that it was simply safer regardless. Opening the door, you covered the bottom half of your face with your sleeve to mute the inevitable scents of animal fur and waste, and stepped inside. 

This shelter both rescued strays and bred certain species from long, diverse lineages. If you remembered correctly, this place did business with more high-end breeders to maximize the gene pool and whatnot. It had been a while since you visited this particular shelter, since you went to multiple locations over the years to avoid getting attached to the animals there, so you were received within the entrance hall by a pair of staff with unobtrusive, customer service smiles. 

“Is this Miss looking for a particular breed for companionship?” the shorter man of the two asked. “Or would she like a tour of the animals ready to go right home?” 

The man had to lift his voice above the distant sounds of dogs barking and birds chirping—as denoted by the colorful murals along the wall, the first hall to the left was dedicated to bird species. You didn’t remember there being decorative art like this during your last visit. If you craned your neck, you could see the mural extend further down, lively illustrations of various dog breeds decorating the previously empty space around several doors.

“I’m not planning to make any purchases today,” you said candidly. As much money and free time as you had (and as much as you’d like to ogle both the art and the depicted birds, cats, and… lizards…?), your sole reason for being here was to pet some cute puppies of all shapes and sizes, and you would do that, dammit! 

However, your phrasing instantly dimmed the polite enthusiasm of these two men. 

“I’m sorry, Miss, but we don’t allow non-customers to view our breeds,” the taller man said without much apology in his voice. 

It looked like he was ready to turn you around and cart you back to the outdoors for wasting his time; that “super sorry” smile wasn’t as convincing as he thought it was. But dang, he couldn’t have at least appreciated your honesty? 

Resisting the urge to sigh, you brushed your hair over your shoulder and pulled out your money pouch. “Ah, I understand. However, I would like to get up close and personal with your dog training process, as I have the other times I’ve come here…” 

Before they could decline your entry again, you flashed a polished brooch of your family crest, which you kept in your sleeve rather than wearing it when you weren’t out on business. The employees’ eyes widened comically, and they immediately began bowing and beckoning you toward a door leading into the dog training area. 

“Of course, our apologies, Miss, please come right this way…” 

Your reputation was of a frivolous young heir, but that meant you were loose-fingered with your money. A couple tokens placed in each man’s palms, and they were more than happy to accommodate you. It was a good thing you only liked art and dogs, because it was much too easy to pay people off. 

Following the two staff into the hall as they solidified into clear memories from a couple years prior, you wondered which section of the shelter you ought to visit today. The month-old puppies? The ones under guard training? The ones under emotional support training (mostly for high-ranking women with hypochondriac problems)? 

Fairy came to mind, that enormous doggie with the thickest, sturdiest fur you’d ever felt with your own hands. Maybe your awareness of spiritual energy was too low back then, but you wondered if you’d actually sensed it that day without even knowing. 

“Do you train spirit dogs here?” you asked the men. There had been no reason for you to pay attention prior, so spirit dogs could’ve been a whole other beast, for all you knew. 

They exchanged a glance, and your heart kicked the inside of your ribs. “Yes, Miss, but our spirit dog training is not nearly as extensive as the breeders in Lanling,” said the short one. 

Due to your, ah, “monetary encouragement,” he was probably trying to please your sensibilities by directing you toward the highest quality dogs, even if they were this place’s competitors. That wasn’t really the point for you, though. 

“That’s alright,” you hummed. “I’m only curious about the process. Like I said, I’m not making purchases.” 

Bribery, of course, was not technically a purchase. You handed them an additional small ingot apiece and assuaged their hesitations right off. 

There was a bit more wall art after going through that first door to the dog section of the shelter, but you couldn’t help but notice that the paintings were reduced to smaller, abstract illustrations of dogs. While they were still nice to look at and perfectly recognizable as the intended breeds, it gave the sense that the shelter had run out of budget to pay for as elaborate a mural as the ones that greeted customers upon walking in. Maybe a bit lazy of this place, but fair enough. 

One stretch of hall later, ambient dog noises echoing louder in proximity to each door you passed, you were traded off to another staff member. The short man wasted no time in murmuring in this new woman’s ear, introducing your importance; the taller man stood aside, smiling unaffectedly as you stepped past him. Preemptively, you slipped the woman a jade piece before she could form her own expectations. But despite her instantly pocketing the precious stone, there was still a moment’s hesitation before opening the next door for you and leaving those two staff behind. Strange. 

The dogs came into view soon. It seemed that the main area dedicated to spirit dogs consisted of a training room, the dogs themselves of average size, nearly ready to be sent to their new homes with wealthy cultivators. Trainers appeared to work with the dogs in groups, lineups of the attentive canines listening like gaggles of schoolchildren—if the schoolchildren actually had an attention span. Each area, varying in aspect of the training, was fenced off, but only enough to avoid the average dog getting distracted by what another trainer was doing across the room. 

All this activity left you wondering where the younger, misbehaving dogs were kept. Surely even spirit dogs had a learning curve? The lady staff member gave you a polite but curt tour of the facility as you walked, not really allowing you to linger with no regard for your building curiosity. That wouldn’t do at all, but at least you could get a feel for this area you hadn’t yet visited before picking a place to linger. 

Then came the final area, where the puppies had their enrichment time. They were kept behind a door, with barks and yips and trainers’ voices resounding from within, same as any other. 

“Younger spirit dogs can be volatile as they acclimate to human qi, and it is inadvisable to put a young woman in danger,” the staff said breezily. 

Your brow twitched. “I assure you, I am not some delicate thing.” Even if this lady said it out of politeness and self-preservation for her company, you didn’t take kindly to the assumptions about yourself. And, like, she had eyes—your body was sturdy, it wasn’t like a gust of wind could knock you out. On top of that, you had some cultivation, which helped your healing factor… not that she knew that part. 

Still, the woman hesitated. Making a split-second decision in your impatience, you stepped forward and took advantage of employees’ aversion to touching guests to gently nudge the door open. If it was really a danger, she’d snap at you. 

Now that you stood just inside the entrance of the large, grassy field, several eyes (human and canine) turned to you. This wasn’t like the other areas, where the dogs were trained enough to stay behind the fences. The puppies—a range of shapes and colors, all roughly the size of a watermelon—scattered about, some playing together, others running in useless circles as their tiny brains adjusted to being alive. 

And sitting in the middle, a bundle of fluff on his lap, was someone very familiar. 

At first, you thought it was wishful thinking. But you stared at him, and he stared back, and that handsome, angular face… his inky black hair, now pulled half-up in a loose bun for the rest to cascade down his shoulders… the sharpness of his eyes, though they were wide as if caught doing something he shouldn’t. 

That was without a doubt Jiang Wanyin being swarmed by adorable, hyperactive, unbearably fluffy puppies.

A memory from last week rose to the forefront, the merchant assistant A-Duan’s voice ringing in your ears: 

“I’ve heard that sometimes he goes out in disguise to get a moment’s peace, but the townsfolk always spot him right away.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit. 

“No way,” you breathed, a hysterical smile threatening to split your face right in two, though you tried so hard to suppress it. 

The sound of your voice snapped Jiang Wanyin out of his shock. “Don’t,” he hissed. Several puppies were drawn to the new presence, bumping into your legs as you stood there in a daze. “Do not say a word.” 

You pressed your lips together, as much to obey him as to stop yourself from bursting into laughter. 

“Sir,” the staff who’d led you here spoke up, and you remembered that other people existed, “do you know this guniang?” 

The moment of truth: Would he sell you out for his own privacy, or did he understand that it was too late and would take mercy on you? 

Jiang Wanyin’s glare deepened, but after a moment, he grunted in assent. “Yes. Shut the damn door behind you.” 

Triumph flooded you, almost overriding the sheer delight and amusement at discovering Jiang Wanyin unguarded. Best day ever.

Chapter Text

It took monumental effort not to plop yourself down right there and coo at the gaggle of extroverted puppies examining your shoes and the lightly frayed hem of your robe. They were so small, they barely made it past your knees even when jumping up to scrabble their paws against your leg. No doubt, they’d follow you when your body decided to resume normal functions, but you had to take a moment to absorb the sheer luck it took to encounter Jiang Wanyin in such a situation.

Everyone was staring at you, but you were well-versed in ignoring curious and judgmental eyes alike. Aside from the lady who’d reluctantly allowed you in the spirit dog training area, there were two other trainers: a lanky man with strikingly light hair, bangs fluffed to frame his face in a way that was reminiscent of a golden retriever, and a woman with dark hair, dark skin, and dark eyes. Both kept silent and didn’t question Jiang Wanyin’s decision to let you stay, each standing somewhat to the side as if they’d simply been delivering a message to Jiang Wanyin, rather than engaging with him directly. After a few seconds the light-haired man let his attention return to the spirit dogs, but the woman seemed much more wary, her eyes lingering far longer than her fellow trainer. It would probably be polite to hand these two some money as well. That could wait till later. 

Left with several options, you made your slow approach towards Jiang Wanyin as he sat with his legs outstretched—an “improper” position for someone like him. You really did catch him on an off day. The pup he was holding seemed calm enough, but the man himself was exuding a defensive aura, the likes of which you’d never seen. 

… You’d work your way up to bothering the pair. 

When you came to a respectful distance, you dropped to a crouch, accepting the armful of wriggling puppies that kept breaking off from their lovefest with the cultivator to investigate your presence. Immediately your attention veered from Jiang Wanyin’s intense and wary stare as the adorable little dogs ran around in clumsy circles, and you checked behind you before rocking backward onto your rear to sit comfortably on the grass. 

Every time you saw a cute animal, at least a third of your soul yearned to take it home and pet it until your arms ached and your hands eroded down to the muscle. The other two-thirds tended to find the rest of the caretaking responsibilities a pain, so you remained petless (other than the koi in your back gardens, which were technically your parents’, and were also technically fed by the servants) and took your fill whenever you made outings such as this. Ah, a few friends of yours had animal companions, and one was the son of a renowned horse breeder, but you were the least busy of anyone you knew, so those infrequent visits also didn’t quite suffice. 

Now, with your lap being harmlessly fought over by piles of brown and black and white and gray fluff, you felt your inner self replenishing. 

When you resumed paying attention to your surroundings, you noticed that Jiang Wanyin had settled into a tentative calm, one hand moving with careful deliberation over the brown pelt of the puppy in his lap. It lounged without any of the excitable energy of the other dogs, its black eyes blinking slowly but not closing to sleep. 

Shifting to your knees, you waded through the pond of puppies to sit beside Jiang Wanyin proper. At some point while you weren’t paying attention, the three staff members had retreated to the edges of the grassy field, perhaps dismissed by Jiang Wanyin. He watched you with his lips pressed into a thin frown, one that was new to you. His robes were almost as plain as yours, a light, pretty grayish-purple color that didn’t suit him at all. 

“So,” you said with as much smugness as you could get away with, “you come here often?” 

You watched as he visibly struggled not to berate you for disrespect or any number of other things. It crossed your mind that he might not answer—it was his right, after all. But eventually he did open his mouth, stiff as a board even with several puppies using his knees as an obstacle course. 

“I help train the spirit dogs sometimes,” he muttered. A pup that was more fur than dog sprinted over from your side to headbutt him, and he scratched behind its ears absently. “I’m familiar with the process of raising spirit dogs, and they need to be exposed to strong cultivation from a young age.” 

When he refused to speak for a few seconds, you supplied, “So you volunteer.” 

He nearly grimaced, nose scrunching the slightest bit as he scoffed. “They need my expertise,” he said pompously. 

“… And they receive it off the record,” you said, brows raised. No matter how cute he looked in this half-assed disguise, he clearly didn’t want to be recognized. Heck, that lady had lowkey been tasked to guard this area, hadn’t she? How desperate was she for money if your bribe was enough to risk exposing a sect leader to some rando’s scrutiny? She was lucky it was just you. 

Jiang Wanyin didn’t bother continuing to be stubborn about it. He just ignored the conversation thread altogether and changed the subject. “Why are you here?”

You couldn't help but laugh, and he couldn’t help but look affronted. “Really? There’s no reason why I would want to come pet dogs in my free time?” 

“If you have the time for frivolous activities, then that’s one thing,” Jiang Wanyin said haughtily. It might’ve been offensive had he not been doing the exact same thing. “Why have you come here, to this breeder?” He eyed you suspiciously. “You aren’t planning to raise a spirit dog, are you?” 

“Like I’d be able to handle a regular dog,” you lamented. 

Maybe Jiang Wanyin wasn’t the best audience for your self-deprecating jokes, since you were pretty sure he believed every word. You could be responsible when you wanted to! You just… usually didn’t want to! 

Before he could retort, you quickly said, “I’ve come here a few times for this exact purpose. Maybe not for the spirit dogs, but still. Is it so hard to believe that I just felt like petting some dogs, not thinking too hard about where I went to do it?” 

Finally, you managed to talk him into a corner. The pair of you fell into a short silence, him ignoring you and you happily diverting all your attention to the puppies. Each had such a personality that shone through even after a few minutes of playing with them, some more sociable than others, but all practically vibrating with excitement. Puppies who were closer to naptime settled down with one of the chew toys lying around, gnawing on it till they lulled themselves to sleep. You picked up a toy every minute or so, goading the puppies into play fights with each other, cheeks beginning to ache from your unending delight. 

After a while, your curiosity made a convincing enough argument to scoot even closer to Jiang Wanyin. His attention was staunchly on the pup in his arms, its build small and its brown fur noticeably matted. Maybe the runt of the litter? 

“What’s the deal with this one?” you asked, softening your voice to not startle the puppy. 

He didn’t reply immediately, and almost seemed to be ignoring you. Unsure how long you might be in cold shoulder purgatory, you reached out to pet the little doggie in his gentle hold. Your hand approached its tiny head, no bigger than an orange, anticipating a soft sniff before you petted it. 

In an instant, Jiang Wanyin tensed, and the dog snapped its jaw around your hand. 

Sharp pain lanced up your arm, muscles tightening as you hissed. “Fuck.” The sharp, little teeth pierced into your flesh, the bone making a quiet crunch that forced out a grunt and another wave of agony. 

“Damn it!” 

The dog trainers reacted to Jiang Wanyin’s shout, starting toward the pair of you on the ground. He pried the puppy’s jaw open with effortless ease. When you snatched your hand back, he clamped his hand around the tiny dog’s muzzle to keep it shut. 

“Let me see,” he demanded. 

“No!” you snapped, voice coming out harsher in your frazzled state. You waved off the trainers as well, shoving yourself back with your uninjured hand braced in the grass, even as the other puppies bustled around you in your awkward sprawl. “Stop, it’s fine! I’m fine. It’s healing.” 

“Like hell,” Jiang Wanyin growled, but you tuned out any words that followed. 

Fumbling through the folds of your robes, you managed to find your harness full of storage notches. The row of portable bags clipped to your belt was exposed as you rifled through them one-handedly and tried to keep the other from dripping onto your clothes or any stray puppies. Enough of your brain retained awareness to keep the emergency knife strapped to your thigh out of sight; fortunately, you kept your water flask on the opposite side. The clip came off after a moment of struggling, and you uncapped it with a throbbing pain in your injured hand. Water spilled over the bloody mess, dripping muddy red into the grass between your legs. A few pups came over to sniff at the tainted water curiously, and you nudged them away with your foot. 

“Go get medication,” Jiang Wanyin ordered the trainers hovering around, though you caught one already departing from the corner of your eye. 

Focused on dispersing the water evenly over the stinging wound, you heard more than saw Jiang Wanyin’s approach. A large, calloused hand grasped your wrist that held the flask, tipping it straight until no more water escaped. The fluttering of your heart weakened your resistance, allowing him to guide your movements. Then, that hand took your injured one, and Jiang Wanyin’s breath caught when he turned it for inspection. 

The torn flesh of your hand was visibly closing, bite marks already receded from the size of the puppy’s teeth to swiftly shrinking pinpricks. Distracted by the sheer speed of your healing, his grip was loose, and you pulled your wrist in and his hand with it, and resumed pouring water on the remaining slivers of swollen, pink flesh and spots of blood. 

When you had the courage to look up, Jiang Wanyin’s arm was still firm around the little dog who’d harmed you, his eyes fixed on your healing wound. A furtive tug out of his grasp only caused it to tighten, and right under his watchful eyes, your wound closed up entirely. The raw, pink flesh faded into your normal skin color, and in a few moments, it was like nothing happened. 

Well, aside from the phantom ache of that sharp-fanged bite. You’d been chewed on by small animals before and they rarely broke skin. Spirit dogs really were built different.

Your breaths evened out, and you realized how shallow they’d grown. Inhaling deep and purposeful, you flexed your hand and felt the ache dull. 

“See?” you said, voice a bit thinner than you’d prefer. Lifting your hand to show him as if in triumph, you saw Jiang Wanyin’s eyes trace down your forearm where it disappeared into your sleeve, then to the slight parting of your robe where you’d hurriedly rucked it up to access your water. 

He swallowed once as his eyes flickered up, breath warm on your face. 

Oh. Oh, you were really close. 

Silence fell, any sort of response stunned out of you. The constant bustle of excited puppies faded into white noise, an odd, numb sensation collecting in your veins as his closeness narrowed into electrifying clarity. Consciously or not, he’d left enough space that you hadn’t noticed in your distraction, but hovered so near that he became your distraction anew. His fingers were still clasped around your wrist, warm and firm. Unyielding but protective. 

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it, how were you supposed to pull yourself out of this? You couldn’t move, could barely breathe, could only meet his fathomless eyes and forget how to look away. All you wanted… what you wanted was…

“You carry all that on you?” he asked, dragging the moment back into real time. You blinked, filling your lungs to reorient yourself and recall what he was talking about. Oh, your belt. There was a note of displeasure in his voice that baffled you enough to frown at him. 

“Yeah.” The attempt not to sound defensive didn’t work. You straightened your robes for coverage and tried again. “I like to be prepared.” 

Another excruciating moment of Jiang Wanyin hovering so close your fingers went stiff—finally, he leaned back and released your wrist, bringing the unassuming little dog with him. 

“Cultivators don’t heal that fast,” he said lowly. If you didn’t know better, he might sound suspicious of your healing factor. What, like you could’ve cheated?

Making a halfhearted shrug, you picked up a dog from nearby and hugged its wriggling form to your chest as if it could protect you from Jiang Wanyin’s scrutiny. “It’s basically the only thing my golden core does for me,” you explained, fingers buried in golden-brown fluff. “I dunno if it’d be that fast if I got a serious injury—I haven’t tested it.” A wry smile twisted your lips. Eye contact felt impossible after what just happened, but you knew he was looking. “But, well, you just saw how it usually goes. I don’t really like pain, so I guess my golden core knew that.” 

He didn’t respond for a while. When you summoned the courage to glance up, Jiang Wanyin’s brow was knit, studying you, but you didn’t know in what way. Heat rose to your face, your fingers curling in the puppy’s fur. Jiang Wanyin really was too handsome. You weren’t sure if you could form another sentence if you tried. 

Footsteps in the grass behind you knocked you back into reality. For some reason Jiang Wanyin gestured for whichever staff it was to come closer. As it turned out, it wasn’t for the medication—though he did take it on behalf of your already-healed wounds—but to hand off custody of the pup who’d snapped at you so nonchalantly. The young man gingerly took the dog, but it only curled up in his arms, little paws stretching then relaxing, looking for all the world like its favorite pastime was naps and it’d never so much as eat a fly. 

“So,” you said with a string-tight smile, unable to take further awkward silence, “what was up with that? Does it not like strangers?” 

To your disgruntlement, Jiang Wanyin ignored you. “I’ll handle this,” he said to the two women standing further toward the exit. “You all get out.” 

Somehow, his rudeness didn’t make the employees so much as frown. They bowed—not the man holding the dog, who simply nodded—and took their leave. 

Turning back to you, Jiang Wanyin opened the jar of medication and held out his hand expectantly. 

Your brow scrunched. “It’s healed,” you insisted. 

“I need to check it,” he said stubbornly. 

“Genuinely, what is that stuff gonna do?” Having your hand chomped made your frustration boil more easily, and you had to take a few breaths to steady yourself. “You saw my hand. It’s literally all closed up. I’m fine.” 

His eyes darted around evasively. “That dog is far from being able to control its energy sensing. I need to make sure your qi is unaffected.” 

That gave you pause. He did make a good point—you didn’t know how spirit dogs worked, and it was entirely possible that the bite could’ve infected your meridians. An inkling of suspicion remained like the final droplets of water at the bottom of a cup, but you allowed your stubbornness to ease, and extended your arm. 

As if assuming you might change your mind, he snatched your wrist and jerked it close to his chest. Your body lurched forward, the momentum catching you by surprise—why the fuck did he do that?! 

“Careful!” you grumbled, hand planted on the ground beside his leg. The pretty light-purple of his robe pooled among the close-cropped blades; now that you had a good view, the fabric was lightly but obviously stained. Old ones, faint enough to escape notice, but distinctively grass-colored. 

Despite your complaint, Jiang Wanyin’s grip barely loosened on your wrist. “Sorry,” he muttered, sounding like the apology physically pained him. 

… Damn it, that was kind of cute too. 

Basically pinned in place, you ventured a look up into his handsome visage and immediately had to look away. Fortunately or not, “away” happened to offer a direct line to his chest, which you couldn’t help but notice was rather broad and rose and fell a bit more quickly than it should under normal circumstances. 

Was he… nervous? Did you have a chance right now? 

Forgetting that he was supposed to be checking your meridians or something, you allowed your urges to take over for a short moment. Your hand lifted, uncertain where to touch with the least likelihood of backlash. Shoulder, hip, knee, chest… all good options. Just a light touch, one that would show some small affection. 

At the same time as your hand descended toward his muscular thigh, your eyes trailed up towards his face once more. Moments from making contact, Jiang Wanyin noticed your movement, and his eyes went wide. You felt him freeze from the sudden stillness of his fingers around your wrist, his jaw visibly tensing as he stared at your free hand in its journey toward his unsuspecting thigh. 

The look in his eyes was like he was holding an overfull bowl of burning soup—as if risking severe burns if he moved the wrong way even a little bit. 

It wasn’t welcoming. In all your hope, you must have been projecting the hunger buried deep underneath those defensive layers. 

Stomach dropping, you retracted your hand without a word. Though your insides now set themselves into a loathsome broil, you understood and accepted his aversion. At the very least, this confirmed your hypothesis: Jiang Wanyin would not accept touch in earnest. Now that you thought about it, Wei Wuxian had told you he only responded to aggression. 

But something within you, that same thing that craved gentle touch, sensed a long, dark void of tenderness in Jiang Wanyin’s life. That was what you wanted for him—a small relief from the harsh face he put forward. A gesture that might show him he didn’t need to be on guard, with you. 

Only in your dreams, huh?

Chapter Text

Both of you remained stiff as boards in your awkward kneeling positions, your one hand curled over your lap and the other being clutched by Jiang Wanyin. While you were reasonably at a loss for words, he was supposed to be doing something with your qi, wasn’t he? What was his excuse?! 

Maybe you’d knocked him off-kilter with that almost-touch—and if it really took that little to fluster him, you’d absolutely be taking advantage of that in the future—but he didn’t seem to be fulfilling his end of the bargain. He was just staring at you… except, not really staring, mostly avoiding staring at you only to fail every few seconds. Ugh, this really wasn’t helping keep your hopes in check. 

“… Are you gonna check my qi, or…?” you asked tentatively. 

This only made his fingers curl down the soft flesh of your inner wrist, refusing to answer verbally. A somewhat familiar sensation hummed into your meridians, tingles spreading from the point of contact and warming the blood in your veins. It was probably a mixture of embarrassment and longing that stirred you like a pot of soup, rather than anything Jiang Wanyin was doing to your qi. 

Restlessness arose; unused to kneeling on the ground so long, your joints began to ache, and you shifted to sit cross-legged. The movement didn’t seem to bother Jiang Wanyin, his eyes lowered in concentration. Nobody had ever done such an in-depth inspection of your meridians—at least, you couldn’t remember a reason that they would. Maybe it was just Jiang Wanyin that made you feel like your insides were coated with honey. No… honey mixed with alcohol. You’d never been drunk, but you imagined this uncontrollable heat and the terrible impulses to grab and heckle him were high on the list of symptoms. 

“You’re fine,” he said after a while. 

But he didn’t drop your hand. Curled his fingers back around the circumference of your wrist, in fact. Fuck, you weren’t particularly delicate, but his fingers overlapped as they clung to you. 

In an attempt to steady yourself, you tried to prompt him into action. “Jiang-zongzhu—”

“Shut up,” he snapped, making you tug away in surprise only to be yanked close enough for his breath to hit your face. Déjà vu. 

“Dude,” you protested. But he grasped your shoulder to keep you in place, and you fell silent, your face red. 

“When…” He cleared his throat, eyes darting to each individual blade of surrounding grass. “When I’m… out… don’t call me that.” 

Despite having banished the shelter’s employees to the general training area, he glanced at the exit door to the puppy arena as if they were eavesdropping. The level of paranoia was almost laughable; even disregarding that next-to-useless disguise, the only reason those trainers listened to him was because he had money and influence. And from your experience, that meant they wouldn’t turn their backs on his orders. (In this case, you’d simply out-bribed him.)

But again with the annoyance at being called by his title. This time you’d get some sort of answer, Or Else. 

Raising your eyebrows at him, your lips curled in growing amusement as his cheeks slowly turned red to match yours. This was a matter of endurance, and you would do anything to force him to say it. Finally: 

“… Call me Wanyin,” he muttered. 

All the breath escaped your lungs. 

His glare deepened, and you couldn’t suppress the grin that broke out on your face. It looked like he was expecting you to do it—to try out the name he’d offered you on a silver platter—but you waited. Just watched him, smiling ear to ear. 

“What?” he snapped, unable to withstand your prolonged silence. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

That phrasing made your heart flutter. “Oh,” you sighed, “I’m just happy.” Not to mention the unceasing urges to tackle him and squeeze his face and dig your fingers into his skin where it would make him squirm and not stop until he forgot his silly paranoia. 

… Too much? 

His reaction to your simple words was to throw a previously hidden chew toy at your arm, and your attention snapped back to the field of puppies continually bumping into every part of your body. Shit, did this man really distract you that much? From puppies? That was pure insanity. 

The chew toy squeaked harmlessly off your sleeve, and you fumbled to catch it, but failed and let it drop into the grass. A short-haired puppy pounced on the toy, and in an effort to ditch the horrifying mushy feelings doing the same thing to your heart as that puppy’s teeth to the chew toy, you grabbed the other end and began a hopelessly outmatched tug-of-war. The puppy did let you win that first time, but you returned the favor, and so forth. 

All the while, Jiang Wanyin’s eyes remained fixed on you. This day was going to haunt your fantasies for real. 

“So, you really don’t wanna tell me why I got bit?” you prodded again, glancing up at him as he thoughtlessly snagged a few dogs into the vacancy on his lap. “That puppy looked perfectly happy sitting there. Is the reason confidential or something? Like, it’s got issues with strangers?” A pause. “And you come visit a lot?”

He glowered at you, which was a slightly more bearable expression than the intense one he’d been stuck in for the past few minutes. “You should know better than to approach unfamiliar dogs,” he scolded, but very much did not directly answer the question.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “This is literally a training area.” 

“And?”

The chew toy was still in your hand, an extremely viable projectile. Shaking your head in exasperation, you said, “All these dogs are being trained to behave. That’s the point, Jiang—”

There was the sensation of slipping on a rug, your heel hitting the ground with a velocity that made the whole carpet skim to the side until it pulled taut, taking your body with it. 

“… Wanyin,” you finished, almost a bit choked. But you caught your balance before it could topple.

From the corner of your eye, you saw his hands freeze where they’d been petting several dogs at once. Lacking the courage to make eye contact, you kept your gaze low, appreciating the view of so many puppies having the time of their little lives. 

After several seconds of no response, you abandoned the idea of continuing this conversation. If he was gonna be weird about it, and didn’t even want to talk about that puppy, then you’d get your money’s worth for this leisurely afternoon. 

And getting grass and dog fur all over your hands and clothes was nice and all, but you kind of wanted revenge for his stubbornness.

Looking up to see his expression intensify as if he could shoot deadly sunbeams from his eyes, you found your target. 

“Wanyin,” you called sweetly. 

Unaccustomed to hearing your own voice like that, you nearly gave yourself the ick, so you couldn’t imagine how he felt. His expression did something extremely strange, twitching between several emotions like he was imploding and ready to take you down with him. No doubt, you’d activated his childhood reflexes from being teased in a similar way. 

“You’re dead meat,” Jiang Wanyin barked, but he didn’t mow through the throng of puppies to kill you as promised. Purple sparked on his finger hidden inside a puff of fur, but it only illuminated the white fluff his hand was buried in, giving it a pretty, violet glow. 

Gasping dramatically, you tilted over onto your side, allowing more tiny dogs to scramble around your horizontal frame. “You don’t have the funds for real dog food? Goodness, why didn’t you say so! I can help out with that, if you just ask.~” 

As if this imposing, ethereal man couldn’t get any cuter, his hands dropped from petting the doggies and hit the ground like iron bars. His fingers dug into the grass so hard, they pitted into the dirt up to the first knuckle. Whoa, he really wanted to strangle you, huh? Hilarious. 

Lips twisted into a horribly suppressed grin, you dragged a puppy against your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbow while petting the wriggling pup. “Hey, do you think if I got eaten by dogs, but like, really slowly, they’d get infinite meals out of me?” you wondered. 

His eyes bulged comically. “You—what kind of sick shit—” he spluttered. 

“Aiy, it’s just a hypothetical! Why take it so seriously? Where’s your whimsy?” You fluttered your fingers at him, laughing as they got playfully nipped at by three different pups hopping up like fishies vying for the same piece of food. “My core probably isn’t strong enough to get more than two bodies’ worth of dog food outta me, anyway. I’m not some peerless cultivator like you, Wanyin.” 

Ooohh, that poorly disguised shock whenever you used his courtesy name would never get old. “I…” he faltered, unable to keep up with your strange thought processes. “I have whimsy,” he muttered. 

You couldn’t help it. You buried your face in the grass and laughed, ribs aching as you tried to muffle the hysterical joy bubbling in your heart. “Are you pouting?” you wheezed in unbridled delight. His face was tomato-red, probably from rage. “Well then, show me that whimsy, Wanyin-xiong!”

A strangled sound of irritation emitted from his throat, and you couldn’t take it, having to roll on your back and hug a puppy on your chest to cope. 

“Oh my stars,” you gasped through bursts of laughter, “you’re too much, Wanyin. How can anyone leave you alone?” 

With your eyes up on the domed ceiling of the training area, you heard Jiang Cheng’s ring spark again, loud enough to make you grin. He was totally freaking out, wasn’t he? Amazing. No wonder Wei Wuxian—

Abruptly, your smile dimmed. Wei Wuxian would’ve been a delight in this moment, poking fun at his shidi with you… but they hadn’t spoken in years, the bad blood remaining wet like a festering infection. Plus, Wei Wuxian was dead-terrified of dogs. Even these cute little fluffballs, you’d bet! Though, to be fair, one did bite the fuck out of your hand unprovoked. 

So many questions roiled within you, it was getting difficult to keep the secret. If only Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian talked things out… you could bring them up to each other without all this turmoil. Probably. You still hadn’t tried bringing up Wei Wuxian to Jiang Wanyin, and weren’t sure when would be an appropriate time. (Hah, if you asked Jiang Wanyin, “never” would probably be the answer.) 

Damn it, this was no time for melancholy thoughts! Brushing it off, you redirected the puppy plodding around on your chest and rolled back onto your side. The pup did a little shake, scattering its brownish fur into your face for no apparent reason before wandering away. Jiang Wanyin looked like he’d malfunctioned, some cog in his brain catching on another one as he stared at you. 

“Hey,” you entreated as you reached for another doggie and returned with a fistful of shed fur, “did you have today off or something? I thought you were super busy.” 

He seemed to snap back into focus, quickly turning his glare down to his lap full of puppies competing for his attention. Ah, to be a dog, where any kind of attention was good attention. “I’m always busy,” he said stiffly. “This is part of my schedule.” 

If you didn’t mind risking your life, you might’ve laughed some more. “Mm, very important work,” you said seriously. “Making sure the spirit dogs are being properly trained.” 

Whether or not he sensed your facetious tone, his annoyance didn’t escalate. So that was a win! 

“Lotus Pier can run without me for half a day,” Jiang Wanyin snapped. 

Immediately followed by a loss! 

“Sheesh, what’s with you?” you groaned, picking some loose grass from the nearest dog’s pelt. “I’m not doubting your leadership, Jiang—” … zongzhu. “—Wanyin. It’s fine to take a bit of time off from running a whole-ass sect.”

Though you caught yourself, tripping up on his name so many times made you a bit flustered. 

Pushing yourself back up to a seat, you yanked up a fistful of grass blades and tossed them at Jiang Wanyin like confetti. Several puppies ran after them, but to your surprise, a faint purple aura engulfed the grass midair, dispersing the blades in a swirling wind for the puppies to continue chasing. You turned your head, eyes alight with disbelief, and couldn’t help but grin when you saw the smug look on his face. 

“Whimsy,” he sniffed, as if he’d won a bet or something. 

Oh, how badly you wanted to fuck with him and say something like “I think I’m in love with you.” Unfortunately, you still possessed self-preservation instincts, the tenuous state of your almost-friendship hanging on a scale, where you didn’t know if you outweighed the boulder pile of his insecurities.  

Ripping your gaze from his handsome visage, you watched as the grass blades whirled in lazy figure-eights, gradually drawing the full crowd of puppies in a bumbling race to catch the windblown greenery. 

“How do you do that?” you marveled. The fact that you even had cultivation slipped your mind most of the time, your sensing abilities being generally pretty low, so you hadn’t tried any little tricks like this. 

Predictably, he scoffed in response. “You formed a golden core and yet you don’t know how to infuse your qi?” he said derisively, as if that was a simple task for babies. Who knew, maybe it was? “Why did you even bother?” 

Despite the harsh words, he shifted closer, plucking a particularly thick blade of grass and holding it in his palm to demonstrate. 

Oh, a lesson? Just for you? This was practically a gift coming from him!

Chapter Text

Gleefully accepting this development, you plucked a broad piece of grass of your own, mimicking him with your palm outstretched. 

His hand approached yours, for a second threatening to touch, but he stopped a hair’s breadth away. A few more seconds of hesitation turned this into a prime opportunity to compare your hand and his as they hovered side by side. 

While your own skin was unblemished, untouched by the toil of hard work, Jiang Wanyin’s palm was sculpted with callouses, lending a subtle air of rugged masculinity to his otherwise graceful hands. At a glance, and even from this close distance, the raised, roughened skin was just barely noticeable. Eyes sliding between yourself and him, you studied the width of his palm and the elegant length of his fingers—lovely holding anything, from a weapon to a paintbrush. Who cared if painting didn’t suit him? He’d be a portrait of beauty no matter the task he undertook. 

In contrast, your body wasn’t something you felt particularly strongly about. You weren’t the same shape as the “typical” woman, a bit too sturdy in some parts, a bit too soft in others. Your frame was round and stocky, your palm broader than your fingers were long, yet your whole hand was several sizes smaller than Jiang Wanyin’s; to put it mildly, you’d never be able to share a set of gloves in the winter. Looking at yourself, you didn’t feel out of proportion, but seeing your own hand next to this distinguished cultivator’s, you couldn’t help the trickle of self-consciousness pooling in your chest. 

(It was a very effective distraction to imagine slipping your fingers between his.) 

Eventually he deemed your attention suitable and did not find your intent stare creepy. That same soft glow encompassed the grass blade in his hand, eliciting an idle thought that your qi might make a different color if you ever grew that strong. 

When he spoke, you were shocked at how different he sounded—patient, and almost gentle. “You begin by sensing the flow of your qi,” he said. “Have you ever used it externally at all?” 

You were so dazed that you didn’t register his question until slightly too late. “Oh, um, no, I don’t think so,” you stuttered. “Unless talismans count…?”

His eyes were steady on you. “They don’t.” 

A tiny, highly inconvenient shiver thrilled in your stomach. “Right.” 

“But,” he continued, “it’s a similar process. Anyone can draw a talisman, but certain varieties require spiritual energy to activate. Those ones are more powerful, and I doubt at your level you’ve used them.” Then he paused. “Actually, that day…” 

A memory flickered into existence like a candleflame: the day you met. Ah, a lifetime ago. “Oh yeah, didn’t those talismans require, uh, qi activation?” They’d come from one of the “cultivation for dummies” type manuals you had collecting dust on your wall-length bookshelf. It was fortunate that you’d bookmarked the fierce corpse suppression page when you read through it a decade ago. 

The blade of grass in Jiang Wanyin’s hand floated up, coming to rest beside yours. It brought with it a subtle buzz of energy, which you were quickly familiarizing as qi. Thinking of it as his energy settled on your skin made your face prickle with warmth. 

Did he know what he was doing? No, that would be ridiculous. This was completely innocuous. You were just yearning too hard. 

“Sort of,” he said. “Baser level talismans are intentionally easy to use, and will respond to the intent of someone who’s grown even the weakest spirit veins.” His lips quirked, that hint of a handsome smile pushing needles into your heart. “Like children.” 

Retracting your legs to cross them, you lifted your free hand to nudge a finger at his blade of grass. Tingly. “Or newbs,” you quipped. 

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Or civilians we don’t want to waste valuable sect members to monitor.” His eyes flicked over your hunched figure. “Straighten your posture.” 

Instinctively, you did as he said. When your neck cracked, you grinned at him sheepishly. 

Unimpressed, Jiang Wanyin revoked your qi-grass rights and lifted a finger, summoning it so the small blade drifted to rest on his fingertip. He mimicked your position, crossing his legs and facing you with better posture than you could ever hope to achieve. Sometimes you wished your parents had gone all out in teaching you etiquette. (But most of the time, you were grateful for the lenience.) 

“Guniang.” 

You started when he called your attention, straightening up again. Pinching his blade of grass between two fingers, he dispersed his qi and began from scratch. 

“Sense the flow of your qi,” he repeated. With the grass in tow, he pointed his pinched fingers toward his lower dantian, then traced it along his meridians. “It’s like bloodflow. Your golden core is your heart, and your meridians are your veins. Find your pulse.” 

He lowered both hands to his knees, and two puppies immediately went for them. The blade of grass fell from his grip as he automatically pet the eager doggies, and you tearfully bid it farewell in your heart. “If you can’t sense it immediately,” he added, “then meditate until you can.” 

Concentrating inward, you pushed past the discomfiting sensation of being aware of your own body and tried to direct the flow of your qi into your hand. You felt a small zap, and a faint, smoky scent wafted into your nose. Refocusing your eyes, you frowned when you saw the smudge of ash on your fingers where the blade of grass used to be. 

A snort made you look up, glaring at Jiang Wanyin as he stifled a snicker. “Don’t make fun of me!” you said defensively. “I don’t usually do this stuff!” 

“I’m sure,” Jiang Wanyin said dryly, but his mouth was twitching in that odd way when he couldn’t quite suppress his amusement. 

“Teach me better,” you demanded. It wasn’t an excuse to force him to pay attention to you for longer, no sirma’am. All in pursuit of knowledge! 

But unexpectedly, his eyes lit up at the challenge—an extra spark of intensity that nearly knocked you over just looking at it. 

Huh. You weren’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to you that he was the competitive type, but, well… 

“You’d better learn from me, or it’s your own damn fault,” he said threateningly. 

Speechless from the responding wave of desire to squish his face in your hands, you made a “hmm” of acknowledgment. Suddenly you had a whole fistful of yanked grass blades in your hand to choose from. How odd! Well, since they were there… if you picked through them for the perfect next specimen, you didn’t have to face your increasingly troublesome feelings toward the man beside you. That was your next task, of the highest importance!

If the abrupt lack of a witty reply took him off guard, he didn’t show it. But then again, you didn’t quite have the courage to look him in the eye at the moment. 

Scooting forward, Jiang Wanyin grabbed your wrist again and pressed his thumb down on your pulse point. You kept your eyes on the place where your skin touched his, slowly loosening your fist so all but a few bits of green remained in your open palm. His free hand joined yours in brushing away the excess pieces, and it took all your effort not to react. Deep down, you knew the burning in your cheeks was visible. 

“It’s just a piece of grass,” he said, his breath stirring your hair. “Focus.” 

For obvious reasons, that was a significant task. This man was seriously oblivious! 

“I’m no good at sensing this stuff,” you said, and it was true. He squeezed your wrist in punishment. 

“It’s a learned skill, idiot. You’ve got a body, you’ve got spirit veins and a golden core, you can learn how to infuse your qi into a small object.” A warm sensation seeped into your wrist where his calloused thumb applied a hint of pressure. “If you can feel that, you’ll figure out how to sense your internal flow soon enough. This is as basic as it gets.” 

The sensation traveled in a ripple like waves on a shoreline—up your arm, ebbed, a bit further to your shoulder, crept back to your elbow, eased into your chest where it lingered just shy of your beating heart. When you realized he was sending intentional pulses of qi through your meridians, almost carving a path through your body, something in your heart twinged so hard it hurt. It was wishful thinking that he couldn’t feel the disjointed rhythm of your pulse with his thumb directly on your wrist. Fake it till you make it. 

Gathering your concentration to the utmost, you closed your eyes (loath to cut his lovely face from your view) and allowed his energy to feed into yours. The lone blade of grass in your lifted palm twitched, but it could’ve been from your breath. Sensation rose, coalescing into your dantian and expanding up, up, up, until your lungs were squeezing with it. 

“I,” you said suddenly, unable to get the image out of your head of his energy inside your body, “never did practical stuff like this. It was just… theory. Reading about cultivation.” 

He was quiet, thumb rubbing absently on your skin. “If that’s the case,” he muttered, “how the fuck did you even cultivate this far?” 

Overcome with the giddiness of being here with him, at his most unguarded, feeling his idle touch, you desperately searched your mind for anything that wasn’t I have no idea, what does it even matter, can I kiss you, Jiang Wanyin?  

“I dunno,” you said, because you really didn’t know. “Basing it just on my experience, I think if you just concentrate really hard on something you connect with, you can manage.” A tentative tug of your wrist made his grip tighten, but the flow of his qi dampened enough for you to breathe. “Uhm, I read a bunch of philosophical texts. Y’know, Dao De Jing and stuff. I didn’t really get it for the most part—I didn’t last very long when I was sent out for schooling with other kids.” 

His free hand was right there, resting in the grass. If not for the obvious fact that he’d spurn it, you’d be holding that freaking hand like it was your lifeline. Alas, all you could do was pet dogs. (Since when was that the less desirable option to anything?!) 

A chunk of fluff came out between your fingers the next time you petted one of the puppies, belatedly realizing it was the same one from moments ago, and was probably responsible for a third of the shedding in the entire arena. This doggie was playing hard to get, rolling its fluffy white self on the ground for belly rubs, then scampering away when it succeeded. It was now occupied with pulling the same stunt with Jiang Wanyin, who fell for it hook, line, and sinker. 

While you tried to flick away the white mass of fur one-handedly, you continued to ramble, “It was nice having tutors ’cause I didn’t have to be targeted. I don’t like being wrong in front of everyone, y’know? That’s probably normal, but still. I didn’t fail out or anything, I just hated it.” 

The memory of those few years spent trying to be in a classroom setting, sitting at your desk feeling like an exposed fish bone while everyone else had flesh and skin and scales to cover them—ah, that scent was back. You glanced down, numbly embarrassed to see you’d evaporated your second piece of grass. This time, Jiang Wanyin didn’t mention it. 

A puppy tried to sniff at the specks of ash formerly known as grass, and you wiped your palm on your pant leg beneath your robes. Regaining awareness yet again, you saw that most of the dogs had spread out further than before, entertaining themselves halfway across the field. When had that happened? Some were beginning to wander back to the spectacle that was you and Jiang Wanyin, but for a few minutes at least, the puppies hadn’t been right there to provide distraction. Had he done that on purpose—using the floating grass to keep them entertained while he tried to teach you? 

The palpitations in your heart increased the more your thoughts whirled, and you desperately continued with the next thing that came to mind. “When I was all obsessed with cultivation, I had one tutor coming in every day to explain Daoism, Buddhism, and Confucianism to me. I can’t even remember why I cared so much, especially when I could barely comprehend the readings for them. My tutor was way more patient about it than he should’ve been, ha ha. My parents probably paid him a boatload to humor me.” 

A pair of dogs came sniffing between your and Jiang Wanyin’s shoes, and you rubbed their floppy ears, your bones jittering like pebbles near a rockslide. “It took a couple years to really understand the core meanings of each of those philosophies. I'm not much of a philosopher myself even after all that—I barely remember anything. Just the main themes and some proverbs. But I think learning about all of it, even if it’s not memorized…” Abruptly realizing that the words tipping off your tongue were so maudlin you could hurl, you stuttered, then had no choice but to continue as you were. “It… well, I guess it settled something in me. And that’s what my core is made of.” 

That core was warming up as you spoke. Jiang Wanyin hadn’t ceased his infusion of qi for minutes by now, and his attention was rapt on you. Glancing up at him, you managed to hold his eyes—one second, two, three… 

He was the type of handsome that could steal the breath of an entire room the moment he walked in. Every time you’d seen him, his presence was fierce and commanding, like he wouldn’t tolerate anything but the highest respect. Though, even through your informalities in excess, only once had he reprimanded you for it. A sharp tongue and a yielding heart. 

But right now, he was breathtaking in a completely different way. With his appearance subdued, out from the sect leader garb and into something casual and comfortable, he looked softer, like golden hour sunlight filtered through the trees. A few seconds could’ve passed or an hour, his angular gray eyes relaxed yet focused, and focused on you. Like he was absorbing what you said, like he wanted to know more. His hand never let go of your wrist, only gentled on it. 

… Ah, you really were going to fall for him. 

His lips parted slightly; you watched them move, eyes dropping without thought. Then he swallowed, throat bobbing, and you watched that, too. How would the curve of his neck feel beneath your fingertips? Half his hair was down—you could run your fingers through it, pick out the bits of grass and dog fur that he hadn’t noticed were stuck. Would he let you? 

No, of course he wouldn’t. 

Still, you wanted. 

His voice was more reserved than you’d ever heard it. The world was a bubble around your two seated forms, clinging to your skin and no further. “Which parts did you keep with you?” 

A smile twitched the corners of your mouth, thin and awkward. “I guess… well, a lot of things, but I can’t really…” You hesitated, fighting through the fog in your head that obscured every memory that wasn’t looking into Jiang Wanyin’s eyes. Every time your gaze darted away, it pulled back to him. His eyes, his hair, his collar. His hand on the flank of an eager pup, his chest that rose and fell with his breath. 

(His lips, relaxed and unfrowning.)

“… I’m insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but as insignificant as any tree in the forest. I just am, and I’ll exist until I die. Um…” You swallowed, feeling like the mud runoff from a flood. “The usual, you know? I can change the things I can control, but I don’t need to. I can’t change the things I can’t control, even if I want to. Practicing gratitude…” 

Every time you trailed off, it got harder to look at him, until you couldn’t lift your head one millimeter. 

“It’s hard to think of these things on the spot,” you rambled, vying for excuses to why you just couldn’t get your brain to work when he was still touching you, his energy swirling inside your overworked meridians. 

He said, “You answered my question already. Stop talking.” 

With this permission, you went quiet, a tremble beneath your skin that you didn’t often have. 

The gray of his eyes could cut mountains, the clouds in the sky and the steel of a sword. “It sounds like you adhere to Daoist doctrines more than the others,” he murmured, his voice a rumble you could feel in your marrow. “If you’ve been so sheltered all your life, it’s no wonder you’re like this.” 

Your chest ached all the way through, like an arrow had lodged in there. It made it hard to smile right, jagged at the edges. “Like what? Chill and unbothered? Far above the toils of the masses?” Never mind that the strain in your voice undermined your every word. 

Jiang Wanyin puffed out a breath, and you wanted it to be a laugh so bad, you didn’t know what he was about to say but he hadn’t released your wrist in what seemed like forever and it felt like your insides were ready to melt—

Your head jerked up, nearly yanking out of his grip. “Ah, Wan—Wanyin, stop, too much, let go please—”

Instinct drove your body to pull and tug, but once you asked, he relinquished his grip without question. It felt like your whole system was palpitating, heart thudding a vicious beat in every nerve and joint. Unable to handle it, you turned away, rubbing your chest and dantian in an attempt to self-soothe. 

A barrage of puppies came tumbling in your direction once your qi disconnected from his, surrounding you and jumping up with their tiny paws on your torso. The jitters subsided enough for you to smile, feeling wobbly as you petted as many little doggos as you could. A few distant sentiments arose about the training these pups could possibly be undergoing to react like this, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak for a while. 

Seemingly at a loss, Jiang Wanyin stayed put. “Are you okay?” he asked when your breathing finally returned to normal. 

“… Kind of,” you said, having to clear your throat a couple times to rid it of its queasiness. That uncomfortably full sensation continued to churn in your meridians and swirled in your lower dantian, almost giving the feeling of a stomach bug. “Feels like… a cup overflowing. But everywhere.” 

Once he saw that you weren’t on the verge of collapse, he shifted away. Not ideal, but you weren’t in a state to protest. “I noticed your core was drained from earlier,” he muttered. Since you weren’t looking, you could only assume he had that constipated look on his face. “I should have stopped sooner.” 

Feeling your core settle from “avalanche on a mountainside” to “day two of a blizzard from indoors,” your lips turned in a shaky smile. “Have you considered I’m just weak?” you said lightly. 

You felt a swat on your arm, and you instinctively looked up, eyes crinkling in a grin. Jiang Wanyin’s brow was wrinkled, but his frown was concerned, sending another unbearable flutter into your stomach. “You need to work on your cultivation,” he scolded. 

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, or worse, laugh in his face, you worked off some of the jitters by aggressively rubbing a particularly fluffy puppy who only got more hyper as you petted it. “And who might be willing to teach me in all my unsightly ignorance?” you teased, extending a leg to kick at him playfully. 

He dodged with a single fluid movement, no longer looking at you. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he muttered. 

Again, you took his warning and composed yourself. It was so hard not to take liberties with him. 

“You really didn’t learn any martial arts?” he asked dubiously, sounding like he wanted to rip up some fistfuls of grass himself. 

With several lines to read between, you couldn’t pick just one. Grabbing the excitable puppy and directing it to point straight at Jiang Wanyin, you revved it up with some more rubs and sent it sprinting right at him. It bumped into approximately six other fluffballs while scampering toward its target. 

To your satisfaction, Jiang Wanyin received the zooming puppy without hesitation and continued the tradition of petting it forcefully. Its little legs weren’t strong enough to bear the weight of his pets, tottering around off balance but always coming back for more as if on a magnet. If you hadn’t already pushed your luck, you would encourage him to be gentler with the puppies, and maybe show him how, as an excuse to get close again. But he wasn’t hurting them, so you stayed where you were. 

(For some reason, watching it circle back to Jiang Wanyin’s welcoming hand time after time, the puppy reminded you of Jin Ling. You couldn’t quite say why.) 

“I’ve taken a couple classes,” you answered, “but definitely not enough to cultivate. Like I said, I think cultivation is about focusing really hard on something you’re passionate about. But with purpose, I guess. Ah, intention? Mindfulness?” The right phrasing was evading you, and it wasn’t appealing enough to chase the meaning. A thin bubble of annoyance inflated and quietly popped. “Wanyin, can you just say what you mean? Do you want me to learn martial arts, or do you want me to monologue about philosophies that I can’t even remember? Or some secret third thing?” 

Apparently that sounded like an accusation to him, because he broke his no-eye-contact rule and gave you a scowl that melted your soul (and not in the way he was going for!). “Everyone should learn martial arts,” he huffed. “People are too lazy. It’s good for your health.” 

You thought of your friend from childhood who had caught every illness that came into contact with her; you thought about how she hadn’t been able to walk without assistance for nearly two decades, and how she cried the day you gifted her a cane in her favorite colors and stones. “I almost agree,” you said. Any further discussions you could’ve pursued were drowned out by the noises of the puppies tottering around and yipping themselves into a frenzy. It was hard to think like this. And whenever Jiang Wanyin looked at you straight on, your thoughts tended to shrink back like cornered animals in a tree hollow. 

“If you have that attitude, it’s no wonder your core is weak,” he said derisively. 

Heaving a great, dramatic sigh, you shot back, “Are you worried about me, Wanyin? How sweet.~” It was only a partial guess; you really hoped he would learn to say what he meant. From the way he went red-faced and scoffed, you were pretty sure it was a defense mechanism. “Anyway, yes, maybe I could’ve tried harder, or cultivated differently. But that’s not what happened, and I don’t think I’d have done much better dedicating myself to martial arts.” 

The eternal question of chicken or egg. In your opinion, the egg containing the chicken came first—your personality dictated your method of cultivating—but you weren’t sure a scattered philosophy discussion would go well with Jiang Wanyin. Another thing to work up to, hah.

Chapter Text

One would think the distraction of conversation would help rebalance your bolstered qi, but evidently not. The swirling sensations barely ebbed, beginning to feel like a river current flooding your whole torso. Suppressing a wince, you rubbed your inner wrist where he’d touched, heat coalescing in your lower dantian and pulsing in an uncomfortable rhythm. “How much did you give me, sheesh…” you muttered. 

Jiang Wanyin was busy smooshing the tiny, foxlike face of a sleepy dog with his thumbs, his motions slowing. After a moment, he said, “Your meridians were putting up some resistance. I had to push through that to replenish your qi.” 

It sounded like he was going out of his way not to make excuses, as if even a legitimate reason for having difficulty would give the impression of weakness. Which was ridiculous, because Jiang Wanyin was objectively—

Wait. 

“What does it mean to have a protective layer to your qi?” you asked before you could think it through. 

Now he lifted his head, openly staring at you. The puppy in his hands did not do the same. Its pointy muzzle was the only part visible, so it could’ve fallen asleep for all you knew; it seemed to have no problem with the firm clasp of Jiang Wanyin’s hands around its face. 

“Did someone tell you that?” he asked suspiciously. 

You were a bit offended that he asked. Was it really so impossible you had any sense of your own qi?! Sure, you’d gotten that evaluation from Wei Wuxian, but you couldn’t just say that! 

“I just, uh,” you racked your brain for an inoffensive explanation that wasn’t a lie, “remember being told that at some point. What you said just now reminded me of it.” 

That fluffy white dog returned, pouncing on Jiang Wanyin’s legs and dodging his hand when it got the attention it wanted. He glanced at the playful pup for a second, but didn’t really, properly take his eyes off you. It was kind of making you nervous. 

“What?” you said after a while, taking a half-asleep puppy into your lap and rubbing its little head. Oh stars, it was licking your hand, you were going to explode. “It’s not a weird thing, right? It didn’t sound like it was… Should I be worried?” 

Shaking his head, Jiang Wanyin laid his hands to rest on his knees as if to close off his dog petting services. Obviously, this did not deter the swarm of puppies even a little bit. 

“The strength of a cultivator’s defenses depends on the individual and how much they’ve practiced,” he muttered, almost talking it through to himself. “If you’ve been given that analysis, it must be significant. Especially at your level.” 

All you could do was listen to him and feel a bit lost. Was he trying to convince himself of something? You couldn’t help but interject, “Is it really that unheard of?” 

He shook his head again, hands relaxed on his lap with suspicious composure. “It would explain why your healing is so accelerated,” he mused. “But it didn’t take too much effort to channel my qi into your meridians, even after the initial resistance.” 

You tried very hard not to let your qi evaporate all the grass in a two-meter radius. Wei Wuxian had also mentioned something about the gate of life and serious trust. “Don’t think about it too much,” you said weakly. And to ensure he didn’t, you leaped to add, “Does that mean I have protection from, like, getting possessed and stuff?” 

As another puppy tumbled into Jiang Wanyin’s lap, he gave it a rough stroke along its spine before fiddling with his ring. “That’s something we would have to test,” he replied instead of saying something straightforward like I don’t know. “The only reliable ways to avoid possession are an artifact like a clarity bell…” 

Unconsciously, he touched the light purple sash on his disguise-robes, where you realized he must usually wear one of those clarity bells. Your observation skills were shaky at best when you weren’t actively paying attention, so you took a mental note to take a look when you saw him next. That seemed like something he wouldn’t just leave at home, though—maybe he was wearing it beneath his clothes, like your own belt. 

Now that you thought about it, where was his sword, too…? 

An odd little cough from his direction made you zone back in, and you genuinely couldn’t tell if the sound had come from Jiang Wanyin or the short-haired dog licking its own nose in his lap. 

“Or,” he continued, “very particular rituals. Regardless, since we’re acquainted, you wouldn’t have to worry about possession for very long. Zidian can eject any spirit possessing someone’s body with a single hit.” 

It was cute how obviously proud he was, practically boasting about his spiritual weapon. Smiling fondly, you allowed yourself some warmth in the implication that he felt positively enough toward you to offer protection. Sure, it was unlikely he’d allow any civilian to remain possessed once brought to his attention, but he’d still said it of his own volition! 

“So,” you said, “I still don’t really get it. What does a 'protective layer' actually mean?” 

After the question was repeated, Jiang Wanyin returned to his senses from whatever thoughtful reverie he’d entered. “It just means your qi has stronger resistance to external influences. The noteworthy part,” he added, because he couldn’t just let you have a win, “is that your internal functions are ascension-level.” 

“Huh. That sounds kinda impressive,” you remarked, but in an “I don’t know what that means” way rather than a conceited one. 

Jiang Wanyin looked at you dryly. “Like I said, there probably isn’t a cultivator alive who can match your healing factor.” He took hold of your wrist again, and you suppressed a ridiculous smile as his fingertips traced down the connected meridian, spreading pleasant chills. As if it had been waiting for him, your unsettled qi quelled, following his motions back and forth, up your arm, down again, a rope swing on a spring afternoon. “If you built your cultivation properly, you could stop wasting your damn potential. Though, your chance at becoming one of the strongest is long past.” 

It sounded like a joke, even if his delivery held no humor. Laughing a bit, you said, “I was never destined to be strong. I just don’t want to get hurt.” 

Hearing yourself say it, maybe that was foolish. Nobody wanted to get hurt; you’d unconsciously centered your cultivation around it, that was all. 

Rolling his eyes so hard they could’ve popped right out to become the roaming puppies’ next fetch toys, Jiang Wanyin dug at you for the dozenth time. “You have no ambition at all, and you wonder why your cultivation is so weak.” 

“The spot for my teacher is still very unoccupied,” you pressed. 

He looked away. The sounds of the tumbling and yipping dogs seemed to grow louder just from the absence of your voices, and it gave you the space to think, Ah, that’s a lie. Wei Wuxian was going to be a cultivation teacher of sorts—just not directly for your spiritual energy. You wouldn’t mind learning more from Wei Wuxian, but if you could someday convince Jiang Wanyin to give you real lessons… 

One of his hands was still occupied holding yours, the other resting just below the pulse point on your wrist. With his refusal to look you in the eye, it was hard to tell if he even remembered he was touching you. Assuming that lack of awareness was the only thing keeping him from letting you go, you remained motionless, though uncertain where to look. At the puppies? At his face? At the slivers of contact that you felt in your stomach, filling you like a meal for which your hunger had long since become a part of you? 

One of the puppies off to the sidelines, playing by itself, chomped on its tail and made a shrill yelp. Both of you jolted, turning your surprised gazes toward it. Eager to avoid your offer yet again, Jiang Wanyin dropped your hand, a loss felt twice over, and shifted to his knees. He picked up the puppy without hesitation, stroking his fingers along the length of its tail to soothe it. Watching the careful way he touched the whining puppy until its tail finally resumed its excited wiggles, a curious ache lit itself in your heart. 

“Do you have your own dog?” you asked. He glanced up at you, moving to quietly scratch between the puppy’s ears as it gnawed on his sleeve. “Jin Ling has Fairy. I mean Jin-zongzhu. But, y’know, I’ve been at Lotus Pier a couple times but haven’t seen any dogs. So…?” 

Jiang Wanyin looked down at the pup in his hold, quiet for long enough that you wondered if he’d answer. 

“Dogs weren’t allowed in Lotus Pier for a long time,” he said finally. “It’s become habit.” His eyes were downcast, frown deepening as if he wanted to say something else but would rather plant his face in the dirt than elaborate. 

The only reason you made the instant connection was because you’d already been thinking about Wei Wuxian today. “But you like dogs, don’t you?” you pressed, feeling a squeeze in your throat for the knowledge that you were asking this in bad faith. “Why were they even banned? It’s not a problem anymore, right?”

“Just shut up,” he snapped, patience finally worn to the bit. The space around his hand crackled, and the dog in his tight grip wriggled around and licked at his sparking ring. Based on how the pup didn’t recoil in pain, freely slobbering all over his knuckles, Jiang Wanyin’s spiritual weapon couldn’t hurt anything by accident… probably. “What does it matter to you?” 

For some reason, this was what pushed you to a loss of words. “Because…” 

You hesitated, his glare impatient. Telling him that you’d met Wei Wuxian was a surefire way to never see Jiang Wanyin again. But it wasn’t just that you wanted him to admit he still cared about his shixiong. 

“I think it’s important to surround yourself with things you like,” you said after a long pause. He looked at you mutely, his expression slowly relaxing into something more neutral. Unable to muster the will to smile, you took a guess with one eye open and added, “You’re the sect leader now. If you want a dog, you should have one.” 

At this, his lips parted for a mere moment before his jaw tightened. Everything in him was resisting—you could see it. And how you longed to pin him in place and touch every spot of tension from the outside in, forcing him to realize he deserved good things. You didn’t know why exactly he didn’t allow this for himself, but if he even took his days off in secret, what did his life really look like? 

Sure enough, he said what you thought he would: “I’m too busy to take care of an animal.” 

This time, you didn’t bother hiding your sigh. “I’m sure you are,” you said resignedly. 

The itch to touch him only grew. Eyes trained on his hand buried in dog fur, you pushed yourself onto your knees, shuffled gracelessly to his side, and plopped back down. He scowled at you but didn’t protest, his arms around the few puppies on his lap. 

Lifting one hand, you moved slowly enough that he could stop you before you touched down on the leftmost puppy’s flank. Instead of rejecting, he watched wordlessly, letting you pet the excitable dog in his lap as it squirmed around and flopped its tongue out. He even joined you, idly playing with a curly lock of the middle puppy’s chocolate-brown pelt. 

And so, with great intent, you knocked your hand into his, lightly, your ring and pinky fingers overlapping for a brief moment. 

He froze as if he never saw this coming. You were helpless but to smile, wondering if he’d ever catch on—any excuse at all would be enough to go in for a touch. It was just something you wanted, even if you could only get it in the smallest doses. Like eating a bowl of rice grain by grain; it would still equate to a bowl, but you would hunger unless your stomach was filled all at once. 

Even though you’d done it on purpose, you didn’t know what to expect. Maybe for him to flinch away, or to snap at you again. 

But he remained frozen, staring down at the place your hands touched for one heartbeat, two. 

Three. 

Four. 

And then his arm jerked away, pulling his hand with it. His cheeks were ruddy, his mouth pressed into a tight frown, fist clenched where it hovered uselessly in the air. Heart thudding, you observed him in his surprise, nearly forgetting to breathe as your eyes fixed on his handsome face. His bangs were loose to his shoulders, the portion of hair pulled back lending a youth to him that you abruptly realized was undone by the tension that seemed to seize every part of him. 

When cultivators surpassed a certain threshold, their bodies were preserved in their prime. But Jiang Wanyin’s attitude aged him somehow, the permanent pinch in his brow, and that prim bun he always wore… 

Right now, wearing that lost expression, he seemed barely older than a child. 

In the end, he didn’t mention it. Being ignored only rose within you that fire to touch again, touch more, but you had to settle a lid over the pan before you could burn him. 

He wouldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it. 

“Jiang Wanyin,” you said, because it was all you could do. “You deserve things that make you happy.” 

He tensed, but didn’t look up. “I know that.” 

You didn’t have as much control as you thought you did. 

“Do you?” 

A rhetorical question. His hand was on the grass. You reached for it. 

This time, he withdrew, your fingertips skimming his knuckles as his hand retreated. You didn’t try your luck again. 

That was fine. If it meant he knew you wanted that closeness with him, whatever it entailed, you could endure the small rejection. At least he’d seen.

To spare him the need to respond, you redirected. “Do you like any of the puppies?” you asked as one went out of its way to trip over your arm. “Any gotten attached to you?” 

Whether Jiang Wanyin caught on or not, he took the bait without hesitation. “No,” he said, but he sounded distracted. A second later he paused, eyes flicking to you, then averting again. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Are you lying to me?” 

He scowled. “Why would I lie?” 

“To avoid emotional vulnerability,” you said frankly, then plowed on. “Seriously, I wanna know. How often do you come here? What do you do? Tell me about the dogs. I’ll buy one for you if you want.” 

“I don’t need you to buy a dog for me!” 

Frustration seeped from his tone like fruit juice between the knuckles. Mouth quirked, you replied, “That’s not the point. If you come around and ‘help the dogs’ with your super strong qi and whatnot, then you get to know them, right?” 

Nudging a few puppies until they tottered out of the way on their stubby little legs, you rolled onto your stomach. A grunt escaped you as your chest squished uncomfortably against the ground, and you adjusted yourself a bit, annoyed at the existence of breasts. Well, annoyed at the ones that existed on your body. Once satisfied, you propped your elbows on the grass and leaned your chin in your hands, making eye contact with a comically furious Jiang Wanyin. 

“I wanna know which are your favorites,” you announced, legs kicking in the air. “Tell me?” 

Lips pursed, the muscle in his jaw worked soundlessly, and you imagined the clacking and grinding of his teeth. Just how pent up was this guy? He should let you help with that sometime. Heh. 

“Today,” he said haltingly, “is my first time meeting with this group of puppies.” Hearing this, you realized with a start that he hadn’t condescended to use such a cutesy term as “puppy” before. You were instantly obsessed. “I’m familiar with some of the older dogs, but I…” 

This was an obvious sort of hesitation: he wasn’t sure whether to divulge more information to you. 

As was your strategy with most conversations, you remained quiet and attentive, waiting for him to choose what to say in his own time. 

Your patience paid off; Jiang Wanyin eyed you for a long moment, then continued. “I only come twice a year. This business partnership,” you tried so hard not to roll your eyes, “began hardly a few years ago. At my nephew’s prompting,” he added with a mutter. 

Ooh, there was a story there. Every bone inside you itched to know, but you resigned yourself to ignorance. 

Jiang Wanyin idly brushed at a floating piece of dog fluff in the air, zapping it into dust with his magic ring. Suddenly you were jealous of inanimate dog fur. “Anyhow, I don’t have the time to spare for an animal,” he echoed his previous point. “It’s enough to visit the dogs here on occasion.” 

Very politely ignoring how these sounded like excuses, you pressed your lips together to suppress a grin. “So what I’m hearing is, you do have favorites—they’re just not in this room.” 

That earned you a glare, but it felt halfhearted. “Dogs with more training are naturally easier to work with,” he said stuffily, which was not a denial. 

Pushing yourself vertical, you grabbed the front paws of the nearest puppy trying to jump on you, making it fake-dance, to its delight. “What do you do with the older dogs?” you asked curiously. A few ideas came to mind, but for all you knew, he just showed up every time more puppies were born, then dipped for the next six months. 

The corners of Jiang Wanyin’s mouth did a funny little something as you shuffled the puppy back and forth like a tiny dancer. That, too, you would pretend was an almost-smile. 

“Cultivators need spirit dogs to be held to high standards,” he said, noticeably reaching for the paws of the dog currently chewing on his sash. “I simply check in to make sure they’re being trained right.” 

The puppy on his lap stretched with a big yawn as he gently squeezed and massaged its paws between his thumb and forefinger. Jiang Wanyin glanced up at you, his expression hard to read. Feeling a bit self-conscious, you released the tiny paws in your grasp and resumed petting puppies the normal way. 

Was he ready to kick you out now? It hadn’t even been an hour… 

“It’s not like you’d know how well-trained spirit dogs are,” he said, his words speeding up. “How would you? You barely know how to cultivate. Pei Yi certainly wouldn’t have shown you around properly, so I…” 

Instead of finishing the sentence, his glare just deepened, as if lowering his brows physically into his eyeballs would communicate his intentions. Like you even knew which of the shelter’s staff Pei Yi was! 

When you kept quiet and slowly grinned at him, he seethed, saying through gritted teeth, “I will show you. How spirit dogs are properly trained.” 

Roughly pushing off the ground, Jiang Wanyin stood and was promptly accosted by a barrage of puppies from the knee down. Laughter burst from you, looping your arms around two oblivious dogs who were more interested in chewing on your robes than his. 

“Get up,” he barked. 

“I’m not laughing at you!” you exclaimed, since he definitely assumed so. “You—this is just so cute!” 

Someday! Someday you’d be able to call him cute to his face! 

Nonetheless, you got to your feet and picked up a doggie while you were at it. The tiny creature’s leggies kicked as it squirmed, and you hoisted it against your chest with your hands wrapped around its rib cage, supporting most of its weight on your breast like a shelf. You released half your grip and used one forearm like a fence to keep the animal from falling off your chest. Once somewhat settled, the puppy wriggled and licked at your face, making you laugh and turn your head away so it only got your cheek. 

A firm hand grabbed your wrist, and you jerked your head up to see Jiang Wanyin standing right in front of you, glaring up a storm. “Has no one taught you how to carry an animal?” he chastised. “You support under their legs, or it’s uncomfortable for them.” 

Without waiting for permission, he touched your elbow, guiding it back until the puppy’s hind legs were in your gentle grasp, its stubby tail wiggling excitably in the air. The hand you were using to support its flank was nudged by Jiang Wanyin to support the cooperative pup’s sternum from under its arms. His hand covered yours entirely—it would be so easy to angle yourself a little bit and let his fingers slip between yours. 

This was a more natural position to hold the little dog, you supposed… but most of your attention was on the myriad of contradictions this man had shown you today alone. Yelling and snapping at the slightest mistake from you, but showing the way with such a caring hand, scowling the whole time. Each moment of pushing his boundaries, he met you with hesitation before the rejection. 

What did he want? How far could you push Jiang Wanyin? And when he broke, would he cut you to pieces, or would you see what he kept inside that heart of his? 

This was no time to get lost in thought when the guy was literally right in front of you. His shoulder was at eye level, close enough that you felt even smaller than usual when faced with his tall, broad frame. It was a good feeling. Tilting your head up, you made eye contact for approximately one second before he looked away. Certainly not to hide his reddened cheeks like a coward. 

“Maybe you should show me how to put this little guy down,” you suggested, just to make him look at you again. 

It worked—at least, his head twitched to the side as if considering it. Taking the mile from his inch, you shuffled into the extra space until your arms bumped into his, offering out the dog to him. He took the canine as if caught off guard, bracing under its weight a bit jerkily as his arms curved into the perfect position to hold the tiny creature. A natural caretaker. 

These moments of the barest touch scorched you beneath the skin where he couldn’t see. You really had to keep yourself in check or you’d get too greedy; it didn’t seem like he knew what his own boundaries were, but you still didn’t want to cross them. 

Taking a step back, you gestured for him to proceed, doing a poor job of keeping a neutral face. Eyes dark with some foreign emotion, Jiang Wanyin bent at the knee, crouching low to the ground as he guided the puppy’s hind legs to touch the grass, then allowed its front paws to settle on the ground. The moment the little pup regained its bearings, it zipped off to bowl directly into another pair of doggies play-fighting. You covered your mouth with your sleeve to hold back a snort of laughter as it turned into a three-way brawl, the yips and snarls so high-pitched that you couldn’t take them seriously. 

A hand closed around your bicep, and you were very proud not to blink twice when Jiang Wanyin dragged you off toward the exit of the arena.

Chapter Text

The pair of puppy trainers were standing awkwardly outside the door, seeming at a loss for what to do after they were dismissed earlier. It looked like they’d occupied themselves with guarding the entrance, waiting to be summoned. They stood at attention when Jiang Wanyin emerged, and the woman made accidental eye contact with you before snapping her gaze back to the sect leader. You watched her for an extra moment while Jiang Wanyin spoke. 

“We’re done in here,” he addressed them breezily. “Where’s Pei Yi?” 

“She’s speaking with the vets,” the light-haired man jumped to say. His voice was deeper than you’d expected. 

The mention of the veterinarian reminded you of the dog that had snapped your hand—it was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’d traded it off to the vet? 

Nodding in acknowledgment, Jiang Wanyin started off in the direction of the veterinary office (you presumed), but you hesitated. There likely wouldn’t be another opportunity to come back and give these two trainers their apology bribes; you wanted to be more discreet about it, but… 

“Sorry,” you said when Jiang Wanyin turned to frown at you. Moving a bit closer to the trainers before they could return to the arena, you quickly shook a couple tokens from your sleeve and held them out, one per hand. “For your trouble,” you clarified. 

The man’s eyes zoomed right in on the money, and he made a slight movement in its direction, but he stopped before taking it. Meanwhile, his coworker seemed to have similar reservations, glancing between you and Jiang Wanyin just outside your peripherals. 

Instead of checking for the level of disapproval in Jiang Wanyin’s expression, you stepped forward and bodily shoved the coins into the trainers’ hands, folding their fingers over it while they were still unwilling to disagree with a guest. “Consider it a tip,” you said, leaving no room for refusal. “And please don’t punish that puppy who bit me—I’m sure it was just following its training, and I’m perfectly fine. See?” You held up both hands and flipped them to demonstrate. 

An air of cautious acceptance settled over the two as they saw proof of your health and goodwill. 

“Thank you very much, Miss,” the man said with a bouncy, shallow bow, his smile sunny. He looked like he was about to start on a spiel, but remembered at the last second that you weren’t a paying customer, and bowed a few more times. 

When you turned your eyes to the woman, she appeared even more closed off than before, holding your “tip” in a firm fist near her chest. Was she nervous about being witnessed taking a bribe? Ah, you’d make sure Jiang Wanyin didn’t say anything. 

Nonetheless, this lady seemed like the type of person who worked with animals because she wasn’t fond of dealing with people. Thus, you closed out the interaction with a smile to spare her the need to respond, then resumed your departure with Jiang Wanyin. 

… And immediately saw that he was annoyed as fuck. 

“What?” you said innocently, elbowing him in the side. “I feel bad for putting them in a weird position, so what’s wrong with a little compensation?” 

Though he had every chance to dodge, he took your elbow without so much as a grunt. That disgusted grimace he fixed you with didn’t fade, only growing more disapproving at your explanation. You saw him lift his hand as if to shove you, but to your disappointment, he dropped it. With more dog sounds echoing in the large, mostly open space, you almost didn’t catch his grunt of irritation over the click of the door closing to your rear. 

“Shameless,” he muttered. 

But he let it go. Didn’t even mention it again as you traversed the zigzag of partitions separating the training areas, seemingly content with laying down his verbal judgment. As if he didn’t actually care what you did! 

Really, what went on in that head of his?

And then, after all that, Jiang Wanyin didn’t even finish the route to Pei Yi. Whatever he needed her for, he didn’t say, nor did he explain anything until you were stood in front of a lineup of dogs on the farmost corner of the spirit dog training area. They appeared to be playing charades with the trainers, and were succeeding wildly. 

Jiang Wanyin folded his arms, chin lifted proudly as if he’d personally trained each of these dogs himself. The names of the befuddled trainers he addressed poofed out of your brain the second you heard them, and of the dogs you got to know in the ensuing ten minutes, you only remembered Goldie—and that was because the very good girl who’d been bestowed this name had an extremely fluffy coat the exact color you’d expect. (In your defense, Jiang Wanyin later disclosed that a good number of the spirit dogs at this facility were unnamed, as they hadn’t met their future owners yet.)

“Am I allowed to pet any of them?” you muttered to Jiang Wanyin while he forced you to watch the charades-y training without participating. 

He cast you a look of disdain, but he obligingly interrupted the training to let you approach the dogs. Not even his irritated tone could deter you from getting your bribe-money’s worth. 

Rubbing your hands together to warm them up for more pets, you glanced appreciatively down the line of well-behaved doggies and reached down to scruff the round muzzle of the nearest one. It blinked patiently, some lighter brown fur peeking out as you disheveled its pelt. 

A few of the dogs looked at their trainers as if for permission, and upon the trainers doing some fancy hand signal, the dogs trotted up to you and sniffed curiously. 

“Ah, best day of my life,” you sighed at the collection of full-grown puppies (because all dogs were puppies forever) coming to greet you. Each dog’s face was thoroughly rubbed, their personalities even more immediately prominent than with the actual puppies. The serious dogs merely glanced at you from their spot in line, while the playful ones wagged their tails and licked your hands—but they all took their “job” seriously! None of them barked, and none of them rolled around like a goof; a few even seemed to nod like a human before returning to their spot in line, as if to wait their turn! 

When you remembered to look at Jiang Wanyin, you suffered greatly under the urge to call him out for partaking in the exact indulgence as you. His fingers were buried in a big, black dog’s sleek pelt, completely focused as if inspecting it, though you knew in your soul he was just trying to keep face. There was no way he was fooling the dog trainers, either. It took monumental self-control not to tease him to the point of humiliation. 

Coming up with questions to start a chat with the staff was far too much effort, so you went around petting the dogs in self-satisfied silence. This was a task that could never truly be completed, so you gauged an appropriate time to stop, and straightened up to return to Jiang Wanyin’s side. Bowing in thanks to the trainers for indulging you, you followed Jiang Wanyin off for a more thorough version of the tour you’d initially received from the woman you presumed was Pei Yi. 

Another half-shichen passed like this. Maintaining his air of slightly unwarranted expertise, Jiang Wanyin treated you to insider knowledge about the best topic in the world (dogs), and you did your utmost not to stare at him so intensely he could figure out your growing feelings for him. Fortunately for your short-term dignity, those feelings were growing down to root, rather than up to blossom. In the long term, you weren’t sure of your own fate. 

As you could’ve guessed, this facility was run differently than the highest-esteemed spirit dog breeder in Lanling, which was where Jiang Wanyin had received most of his knowledge on the topic. There were only a few dozen spirit dogs here in total, and Jiang Wanyin had a hand in training most of them. A small hand, but a hand nonetheless. 

“Spirit dogs of the highest pedigree are adopted within two months after birth,” Jiang Wanyin explained as you moved from one area to the next. You’d just finished watching a few dogs race through an obstacle course, competing with and sabotaging one another as if they were human athletes. Their intelligence really was astonishing. “They bond with their new owner as soon as they can part from their mother, but they still need to attend training for at least a year afterward. Some people hire a trainer to live with them for ease of scheduling, but most have their attendants bring the dog to daily training.” 

Nodding along, you came to a stop with him in front of a dog who appeared to be following an invisible pattern on the ground, its black nose to the dirt as it sniffed this way and that. “Which option did Jin Ling—Jin-zongzhu use?” you asked. Maybe you should give up and just call the kid by his given name. 

Grunting in acknowledgment, Jiang Wanyin folded his arms and settled in to watch the spectacle that was a dog sniffing the ground. “In-house trainer. His uncle…” Jiang Wanyin hesitated, but continued before you could ask why. “The uncle who’d gifted Fairy to him did so to alleviate his… lack of companionship.” His voice was gruff, masking something you couldn’t parse. “Fairy has been with Jin Ling every day since they met.”

Of the two implications presented, you chose to comment on the one that didn’t sink your stomach like a rock into a river. “That’s sweet,” you murmured, eyes drifting with the path of the muddy-brown dog and its long, sickle-shaped tail. A morbid idea soured your thoughts, watching that curved tail sway from side to side. “Do spirit dogs, ah, live longer than regular ones?” 

Cultivators had the capacity to achieve immortality, technically speaking, so maybe spirit dogs did too…? 

Jiang Wanyin gave you an inscrutable side-eye. “Let’s put it this way,” he said. “The reason spirit dog breeders are still in business is not because the dogs die of old age.” 

Chills wracked up your spine. Did he mean to say their owners sent them out to get killed?  

But it made sense. If spirit dogs could live even half as long as any human, and the cultivator they bonded with went out on night hunts, there was a fairly high chance that the dog would die in battle with a dangerous creature before it ever reached old age. Not to mention the horrible possibility of rich people shelling out money on spirit dogs instead of regular guard dogs (or better, actual human guards), only to use the poor canines like weapons. Though you didn’t go out much, over the years you’d encountered a few high-ranking officers of the empire whose “morals” were in line with such actions. 

“… I see,” you mumbled. Reaching desperately for something to lighten the mood, you said, “I guess that gives me plenty of time to pet Fairy again, huh?”

Silence settled in, your comment going unaddressed. Wistfully, you thought he might be at a loss for words, but didn’t turn to check in case you found apathy. 

“What kind of training is this?” you asked after the silence leeched into boredom. 

He answered, “Spiritual sensing. This area has a maze array set up. There are more complex obstacles outside.” 

“So these are all easy mode?” you said despairingly. All this time in here and you weren’t actually seeing the highest skilled doggies at work?! 

Scoffing, Jiang Wanyin punched your arm, and you whacked him in return before you could think about it. Fuck, his muscles were dense! Your freaking hand was throbbing! 

“However much training a regular dog has to undergo—if its owner is competent,” Jiang Wanyin added with a scoff, “multiply it by twenty for spirit dogs. They’re almost as smart as humans—they have to be capable of utilizing that intelligence, plus their spiritual intuition. The point of a spirit dog is to protect its owner and their family.” 

A small tension bled into Jiang Wanyin’s tone, going unaddressed like he barely noticed it. Taking a chance, you nudged him again with your elbow, then pressed your arm into his side. Just like before, he tolerated the touch for a moment longer than you expected, before jerking away with a half-step. 

“A guardian,” you mused, rubbing your sleeve between your thumb and forefinger. “A companion. I’ve only met Jin-zongzhu and Fairy once, but I’d bet they’re friends.” The thought made you ache—in sympathy, in yearning. “Have you ever had a dog, Jiang Wanyin?” 

The question fell without forethought and dropped between your feet like a rock. What a stupid question—Lotus Pier had a “no dogs” rule, of course he hadn’t—

“I did,” he gritted out. 

Oh. 

Turning to gaze at him, your heart began to squeeze, sensing a bad memory. Jiang Wanyin’s eyes were trapped on the ground, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you or the dog in training. 

“Three,” he muttered, voice strained and halting like he didn’t want to be telling you. But you weren’t forcing him. “They were—given away, when… that rule was implemented.” 

It felt like your heart was draining down from your chest cavity, pooling sickly into your bowels. Wei Wuxian hadn’t said anything about that. But, then again, why would he bring up the topic of dogs if he was so terrified? Did he even remember?

Damn it, how could you have known? 

“That’s awful,” you said quietly. 

Jiang Wanyin stiffened, his head snapping up to stare at you. It was sudden, the intensity enough to make you shrink a bit. 

“It was my duty,” he said harshly. There was no way he believed it. Even you weren’t naive enough to think he’d accept it without a second thought, especially not so young. 

You shook your head, wishing he would take the comfort so you could give him a hug or something. Active comfort wasn’t your strong suit, but for Jiang Wanyin… 

“No one should be separated from their pets,” you said passionately. “It’s cruel to both you and the animals.” 

He didn’t know how to respond for a while. Something gradually softened in his gaze, one trickle of water out of a dam. “They were normal dogs. It wasn’t like we had spiritually bonded.” 

How could you ignore the bitterness in his eyes? 

“Even so.” Lifting a hand without quite touching him, you said, “You connect with your companions, human or animal. It wasn’t fair to ask that of you.” 

No matter what you said, he resisted, visible in his eyes. What would it take for him to believe you? Shaking him by the shoulders? 

“I’m serious,” you persisted. “It wasn’t your choice, and I’m sure it wasn’t the dogs’ fault. Your friends were taken away, Wanyin. It’s alright to be upset.” 

But he’d already closed off to the conversation. Sighing to yourself, you searched for a bit of lightness. “Well, if you decide to treat yourself…” 

“I told you,” he interrupted, voice rough, “I don’t have time to raise an animal.” 

You ignored him. “… Then whenever I come visit, I’ll be taking full advantage! You’re not the only one who deserves some dog time.” 

He turned toward you in disbelief. “You really are shameless, you know that?” His voice almost held a bit of wonder, like he couldn’t conceive of any of the jokes you made. 

Taking the chance to take a hammer to the tension, you pushed his arm with both hands, feeling the warm muscle through his sleeve. “If you want me to come over more often… you know how to do it~” you singsonged. 

Stiffening at the touch, Jiang Wanyin grabbed your shoulder and seemed to forget what his goal even was for doing so. He stared at you with his jaw clenched, and you stared back, smiling but baffled as his grip continued to tighten. Eventually he let go, not shoving you away like you expected. You took this as a perfect go-ahead to remain standing too close to be casual. 

“I’m not getting a damn dog just because you told me to,” he muttered. 

You nodded. “Mhm. Of course I only want you to get one if you want one.” 

Today, boundaries seemed to be crafted of sand. High and thick walls of sand, but sand nonetheless. You sunk your hand into the soft grit once more. 

“I don’t need the excuse of seeing your hypothetical dog to visit, you know,” you said, gentler. He glanced at you but didn’t reply. “Or, if you don’t want me to bother you, maybe you’d like some company that can’t talk your ear off.” 

A laugh huffed out, so dry that it couldn’t be counted as such. “Yeah? You a salesperson for this breeder now?”

Smile widening, you made up for his dryness with a genuine chuckle. “No. I don’t think it’d suit me, anyway.” 

“Well, you got one thing right. You don’t know how to keep your mouth shut.” 

Even though the words fell from his mouth like chips off his teeth, they nicked you before they could land in the dirt. It didn’t even look like he noticed his own callousness, continuing to watch the dog complete its invisible maze with a placid expression. 

Swallowing the urge to show your hurt, you said, “On the contrary, Wanyin. I’m happy to be quiet most of the time. I’m just trying to get to know you.” 

This one felt like a confession; or maybe, a step into the road when an oncoming carriage might not slow in time. Jiang Wanyin glanced sharply at you, his gaze critical in a way that pushed into your cuts. 

“Why?” 

You blinked. He sounded defensive—confusingly so. 

“What do you mean, why?” you echoed, though it was rhetorical. “You’re interesting, and we’re acquainted well enough. Why wouldn’t I want to get to know you?” 

There wasn’t much he could say to that. The dog solving the maze array yipped to signal its success, and after another moment of blank stares, you followed Jiang Wanyin silently to the next training area. 

~

Listening to him proceed as normal with his descriptions of the dogs’ training regimens, you had to face the facts: Jiang Wanyin’s mind eluded you. Did he really dislike it when you got chatty? How were you supposed to know which of his verbal jabs were in earnest? 

Then you thought about it more, and you decided you had better things to give a shit about. If Jiang Wanyin didn’t want you to yap, then he could say it outright, dammit! And what did he know about how talkative you were? It wasn’t like he was around you in every situation! There were plenty of times when you went silent for hours on end, for one reason or another! 

Mentally dismissing that small moment of discord, you decided not to change your behavior, either. If it turned out you and Jiang Wanyin weren’t compatible after all, he could kick rocks like the rest of ’em. 

However, now that you took stock of it, your energy reserves were dipping below the comfortable level. Just a distant feeling in the center of your skull, an inductor that you wouldn’t be able to handle much more social engagement without consequence. And as you chose to invest in the belief that this was worth the impending twelve-hour sleep, you dismissed that feeling as well and hoped for the best. 

The pair of you passed a door seemingly leading outside, and Jiang Wanyin paused just long enough to decide he didn’t want to open the door after all. Sounds of growling and fierce barking were muffled through the thick wood, and you surmised the situation quickly enough. 

“Is that for guard training?” you asked, standing in place instead of following. 

Turning around, Jiang Wanyin gave you a short confirmation. “It’s better not to interrupt.” 

A sardonic smile stretched the corners of your mouth. “Oh, I’m sure. Wouldn’t I be the perfect fake intruder, though? It’d cost way less for a training dummy that can fix itself after getting maimed.~”

Seeing Jiang Wanyin’s nose wrinkle was worth the bad joke. 

“They use fierce corpses to test the spirit dogs in combat,” he said in lieu of dignifying your comment. 

That was not the deterrence he thought it was. The view had to be epic for spectators! 

If you had more energy, you might’ve probed a bit more, maybe taken a peek outside against his suggestion. Instead, you gave a vague response to show that you were impressed, and continued behind him for the rest of the tour.

Chapter Text

Apparently, reaching that wall with the door leading outside meant the rest you could do was make a straight shot to the main exit into the rest of the shelter. Passing by a few of the partitioned areas where you’d already imposed yourself, you received some extra commentary from Jiang Wanyin, though most of it flew from your memory like birds who couldn’t tolerate food bits being tossed at them. Your mind wandered; there was no telling what his goal was at this point, or how you could dismiss yourself politely. 

Coming to the obstacle course from before, you noticed with a start that a few of the dogs watching on the sidelines with the trainers were smaller breeds. So far, the vast majority had been medium-sized to large dogs, half your height or bigger. Turning your eyes to the pair of canines racing through the obstacles, you forgot to stifle a laugh when you saw a sleek greyhound racing a cat-sized blur you thought might be a terrier. That wasn’t a fair fight at all! 

The comment rose to your lips but lost momentum and rolled back down your throat. A peek at Jiang Wanyin showed that he was idly watching the smaller dog’s movements, the ease of its hops, how quickly it bounced around the obstacle course and ribbed at the otherwise focused greyhound. 

You remembered at this point that you should’ve been on the lookout for any preferential treatment he might’ve shown toward a particular dog. Ultimately, though, intercepting every single training session to interact with the dogs would be rude. Besides, Jiang Wanyin’s poker face was not to be underestimated. Who could say if he had any tells? 

It got to be about the time where the dull ache of hunger brought your attention to your body sensations, and you were forcibly reminded of your rapidly depleting energy levels. Coincidentally, Pei Yi emerged from the main entrance for the spirit dog area, where she’d led you inside hours prior. Jiang Wanyin gestured her over, and you decided this was the time to take your leave—after he said his piece. 

At first, it was some logistical chatter about Yunmeng Jiang’s support of the facility as a whole. You got the feeling that it wasn’t really something you should be listening to, so you succumbed to your looming exhaustion and zoned out for a while. 

“Guniang,” Jiang Wanyin snapped. Oops, zoned out a bit too much. 

You turned to face him with a sheepish smile. “You called?” 

While Jiang Wanyin visibly struggled not to roll his eyes, Pei Yi was maintaining her forced polite demeanor. She probably thought you’d use your family’s influence to dismantle the animal shelter if she so much as looked at you the wrong way. With the pallor of her skin and those eyebags on an otherwise proud face, she looked just shy of a low-level fierce corpse. Maybe you should assure her that you weren’t going to ruin her life over something dumb. You didn’t remember ever doing anything of the sort in the past, so what was she so worried for?

“I was just asking if this guniang would accept compensation for our earlier misunderstanding,” Pei Yi said with a smile that made her skin tighten enough to cause wrinkles. Sheesh, how stressed was this woman? 

“No need,” you said on instinct. “I just wanted to pet dogs, and, uh, mission success. I was gonna leave pretty soon.” 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Jiang Wanyin’s mouth do a funny little something. Did you miss a relevant part of the conversation after all? 

Pei Yi looked like her own smile was causing physical pain. “… Our shelter has a partnership with the inn next door for visiting customers, if you would like a voucher. This gongzi has received some as well for his and his comrades’ future visits.” 

Her insistence was interesting; was she really that afraid you’d badmouth the shelter to the public? Over what, not immediately letting you in before you bribed those guys at reception? If anything, they should be grateful you didn’t lead them on and refuse a purchase at the last second. 

… Also, did she just call Jiang Wanyin gongzi?! That was a new one. It was a challenge not to burst out laughing when the words registered. 

“Sure,” you said to appease her. 

Twenty years of Pei Yi’s life seemed to return to her complexion, those wrinkles looking more like laugh lines. “Very good,” she said while retrieving the vouchers from her sleeve, a few tokens with the inn’s insignia. “Then we can all agree, this whole situation can be put behind us.” 

… Why did it sort of feel like you just entered a drug deal? 

While you tried to discern whether you’d really missed something important in the conversation earlier, Pei Yi began singing praises about the inn’s bed and breakfast. Jiang Wanyin wasn’t nodding along or anything, but he was tolerating the gratuitous rambling with more patience than you expected. Pei Yi mentioned the comfortable beds and hot baths, and it took great strength not to invite Jiang Wanyin to use your voucher with you right this moment, wink wink nudge nudge. 

“I’m not using it right away,” you interrupted when your exhaustion surged past ignorable levels. “Thank you very much, Ma’am. I’ll be sure to hold onto these for when my family is in the area.” Or your friends, more likely. 

Appearing almost flustered, Pei Yi bowed shortly. “Yes, of course. They’re yours to do what you will.” 

Eyes sliding to Jiang Wanyin, you were surprised to see him looking at you intently, your gazes meeting with a thud of your heart. “What?” you said without thinking. 

His head jerked to the side, brow knit moodily. “Just be sure not to go talking about today,” he muttered. 

“Oh.” That made sense. The vouchers were a return bribe, because you weren’t actually supposed to know Jiang Wanyin liked to pet dogs in his free time. But you would indulge his ridiculousness, saying, “Yeah, of course.” 

Assured by your compliance, Pei Yi bowed again and departed, her steps clipped and precise as she hightailed it to wherever. Jiang Wanyin didn’t move to follow, so you lightly smacked his shoulder and grinned to deflect his glare. 

“You staying?” you asked. “I’m gonna have dinner. Gotta find a place to wash my hands first, hah. I should’ve brought a change of clothes, too.” A pat on your chest. “My robe’s practically made of dog fur now.” 

At your current energy levels, you weren’t certain you could handle a full dinner conversation with this man. The decision was made for you with a click of his tongue. “I have more business to discuss before I leave,” he stated. That was maybe code for petting more dogs, or training some of the older ones. “I’ll be flying home.” 

Ah, a cozy word like home, coming from Jiang Wanyin’s dagger-blade mouth. You liked him so much. 

“Sounds fun,” you said idly. Flying on swords had always looked a bit silly to you. “I’ll see you in a few days?” 

Watching Jiang Wanyin nod like his neck had turned to wood, you thought of all the other times you and he had parted ways. Each very similar, with this awkward, dodgy look in his eyes, like he didn’t quite know how to say goodbye. Why was that, you wondered? 

Left with nothing else to say (short of asking him to dine with you), out the door you went. 

~

The noodle shop you’d spotted earlier was delicious, but not better than you could get at the shop a twenty-minute walk from home. Nonetheless, you sat and ate at your moderate pace, listening around for gossip or the general vibe of the area. 

As evidenced by the boring topics discussed by the handful of people within earshot, nothing much was happening around here. No interesting news that shook the whole region, either. Some lady named Madam Lang got a third cat from her husband, though, so good for her. 

Inside you was a reserve of energy that you imagined as a collection of puddles. Social interaction burned away at these puddles until they evaporated, thus leaving you dehydrated and cranky. At the moment, the imprint of most of the puddles was all that was left, with your deepest pool keeping you going just long enough to eat your dinner before retiring to your carriage, and then your bedroom. Your next whole day was probably doomed to stray no further than your bedside. 

So, during the remainder of your meal, you zoned out. And zoned out hard. Hard enough that you could still feel the imprint of Jiang Wanyin’s hands on all the places he’d touched you today. 

… FUCK! Why was he so touchy-feely?! He seemed like the porcupine type, sticking spines into whoever dared approach, but he had the audacity to touch you first several times?! How were you supposed to cope?! 

On top of that, in hindsight, meeting Jiang Wanyin by chance and spending the whole afternoon together, essentially just the two of you… that was a date, right? On pure technicality? An unlikely pair, single and enjoying yourselves… at least, you hoped he enjoyed himself. Damn it, he was so hard to read sometimes, and barely ever smiled. 

How was this fair? The mere thought of this man had you clenching your jaw so hard your teeth were grinding your soba noodles to paste, and what effect did you have on him? Irritation? Maybe a little amusement, when you were lucky? The best you could hope for was that you offered a unique form of annoyance in his very exciting sect leader life. 

Now, you weren’t one to flirt. Sometimes, as a joke, you’d pretend you were planning to steal your friends from their spouses (respective genders irrelevant), but it was all among friends, all in good fun. You weren’t about to go openly flirt with Jiang Wanyin just to get back at him. Although, if you thought about it, there were plenty of moments you could’ve slipped in a line or two. Inviting him to the inn with you, telling him how cute he was, covering his hand with yours under the guise of some excuse you couldn’t come up with… 

The noodles entering your mouth abruptly halted, hanging limp halfway to the bowl as you stared blankly into the distance. 

If you could’ve gotten away with screaming and clutching your head in public, you’d be doing that right now. He’d held you when you were injured… You should’ve asked him to kiss your hand better! Why hadn’t you thought of it earlier?! The opportunity was completely missed! It wasn’t like you could go get injured in front of him again—that’d majorly suck! 

Now overcome with despondency, you slurped the rest of your noodles and chewed them like a forlorn goat. There was no justice in the world for slow minds like yours. None whatsoever. 

The extra bowl you ordered midway through your first arrived, and you pondered taking it home instead. Only wealthy and slightly unhinged people such as yourself could get away with it—paying at least six times the price of the bowl you’d be stealing, then carefully carrying it all the way home so you could eat it later or hand it off to your father, who could and would eat anything at any time. 

After another moment of staring, you decided you didn’t like the bowl enough to add it to your collection, and you really were still hungry. So, you delved back in and zoned back out. 

Jiang Wanyin’s hands would become your new sleep paralysis demon if you didn’t get them out of your head. Lingering on his words rather than his touch was only better because you couldn’t feel them. 

He’d called you an idiot, and it felt affectionate. Said in full confidence you could learn to cultivate, and do it properly. “You could stop wasting your potential,” that silly man had said. 

What did “potential” mean to him? Did he really believe you could build your cultivation to be as formidable as his? Or could you do something special with what you had, if you only learned to hone it? 

For a moment, your heart ached with loneliness. If he was here with you, you could ask him what he meant, have some more conversation in good fun and sate your curiosity. But that wasn’t an option, and never had been. How naïve of you to think you could entertain someone like him in this state of slowness. Jiang Wanyin was a busy man, one with better things to do than indulge your endless curiosities. You were always going to eat dinner alone. 

…

You offered your mostly full bowl to the table next to you before leaving the shop. The food that had made it into your stomach sat cold.

Chapter Text

“Someone looks happy,” your mother remarked from across the weiqi board. 

Your brain functions resumed—but in the way a jar of molasses resumed flowing when tipped upside down. “Yep,” you said blandly, and did not elaborate. 

In his seat next to your mother, your father switched from studying the game board to studying your face. He didn’t make any comments of his own, which was nice because he had exactly as much information as your mother did—which was, to say, none. 

Obviously you hadn’t told anyone that Jiang Wanyin was a surprise guest at the animal shelter you visited yesterday. The problem was, you kept zoning out today, which naturally led to thinking about Jiang Wanyin’s hands on your wrist, his aggressive concern, his qi flowing through your core… 

“Why am I the opponent, again?” you protested, shaking yourself out of your daze to marginal success. “My brain is barely doing anything today. Baba, take my place.” 

He obligingly swapped seats with you, taking over your hopeless side of the weiqi match while you slumped in his vacated armchair like three sacks of potatoes sewn together. 

The weiqi match between your parents would’ve been engaging if you could pierce through the brain fog enough to pay attention. Sometimes you managed to offer some sideline suggestions, but now was not the time. It was an incredible feat that your father managed to flip the board enough to almost win against his wife. Alas, he’d inherited a poor set, and they proceeded to their rematch while trying to prompt you into conversation. 

“What’s with that smile?” you were inevitably asked. You really needed to work on your poker face. 

“Oh, y’know,” you dismissed, shoving some more grapes into your mouth. “Puppies.” 

Alas, that excuse had run dry over the past day and a half. They exchanged a glance, and your expression grew wry. If you didn’t want them to suspect the real reason (even if they assumed it was a random man rather than Jiang Wanyin), you’d need a diversion—a realistic one. 

For better or worse, it came easy. 

“Um…” you started, courage shrinking as your parents turned to look at you. “I was thinking… of getting one. I don’t know.” 

Another glance was exchanged, judgment impending. It was your father who struck you down. “Adopting an animal is a big responsibility, you know,” he said sternly.

Ah, but he’d been a pet owner when he lived near the capital with his family, before marrying your mother. Whether he tried to hide it, you didn’t miss that spark of anticipation in his voice. Bait, meet mouth.

“I’m not five,” you groaned. A grape was pinched between your thumb and forefinger, waving it from point to invisible point. “I know there’s feeding, walking, alllll sorts of training, cleaning up, caring till it passes…” 

Both parents nodded in approval with each thing you listed. “Knowing isn’t the same as doing,” your mother reminded you with a knowing look that made your past infractions shrivel. “If you’ve made up your mind, just make sure you don’t leave the servants to take care of it for you.” 

“When do I ever do that?” you drawled, knowing full well you’d never cleaned your room in your entire life. 

Jokes aside, that part of you who wanted an animal companion was strong enough (as always) to make this a believable diversion. And just because you weren’t really expecting to get a dog after this didn’t mean you couldn’t use it as an excuse to let your dad lecture you a bit. 

Righting your posture, you held out a couple grapes to each of your parents in offering. “Going to see a bunch of puppies up close and personal might’ve been a mistake,” you said soberly. “Someone talk me out of it, please.” 

The half-truth was worth seeing your father draw himself up like he was prepared to give a speech. It was nice to make him feel needed. 

“You need to take all factors into consideration,” he instructed. “First, the breed of dog must correlate with your lifestyle. If you still believe this would help with your emotional troubles—”

… There was a period in your teens where you may or may not have pondered becoming one of those rich ladies who kept a dog at her side for “emotional support.”

“—the breeders near the capital will have the best connections. But don’t forget, dogs are carnivores, so regardless of the breed you’ll need to collaborate with the kitchens to ensure we purchase enough meat to feed your pet. Now, this will be a great opportunity to get you outside more consistently, especially if you choose a breed that needs more activity—”

It was hard to admit, but getting lectured, even from your father, was difficult to endure. At this particular moment, you felt a little scummy letting him delve into such detail when you almost definitely weren’t going to adopt an animal soon. The more he spoke, it really seemed like he was convinced you were set to take his advice and get a dog within the week. At least it provided your mother more entertainment than the weiqi match.

In an attempt to keep yourself engaged, you dragged your chair closer to the table and idly placed the game pieces whenever he forgot to do it himself. 

“—and your dog should be loyal to you first and foremost,” your father continued, ramping up into a proper lecture, “so you should handle the training yourself. With expert supervision, of course, but you must stay consistent and participate closely—”

Sometimes he forgot you were an adult with perfect awareness of how to take control of your life. Nevertheless, you half-assedly kept up the front of an obedient child who was trying their best to store this speech in long-term memory, and resisted the urge to bite one of the weiqi pieces like hard candy.

Needless to say, your side lost quite extensively. 

~

Sleeping for another twelve hours helped to sort your feelings on the matter. About a third of that sleeping time was dedicated to stress dreams about cleaning up after every animal on the planet, getting your appendages gnawed on day and night, and forgetting the existence of your hypothetical pet, returning from trips to find something horrible awaiting. 

For obvious reasons, you were not getting a dog anytime soon. Even if your soul crumbled a little bit at the thought of seeing one out on the street once you inevitably had to go outside. 

But today, you would continue to recover! The weather was rainy and humid, so you bundled your hair up so you wouldn’t have to deal with it and settled into your craft room. 

Endless pages of messy catharsis became the fruits of the day. The desk was strewn with multiple stacks of half-started, half-finished ideas—and all of them were about Jiang Wanyin. 

Obviously they were! All those moments you could’ve grabbed his hand and made him hold it, or closed the distance for a hug, or, hell, kissed him—you just couldn’t stop thinking about it! Working through those feelings during a singular meal after the incident? Hah! You’d be thinking about it till you drowned yourself in the koi pond! 

It took Xiaolin knocking on your door to coax you to dinner for you to lift your head from your frenzy.

“Miss?” she called hesitantly, peeking into the room. “It’s getting dark. Have you eaten today?” 

The only reason she was cautious rather than concerned was because of your pitiful cultivation: You didn’t strictly need to eat. Hunger cues would still come, but you’d toughed it out a few times post-core-development, so you could function like normal for at least a week. It was nerve-wracking and hopefully unnecessary to test it beyond that, but your limits were probably further than you suspected. Now, today, you’d fully ignored your empty stomach to pursue this distraction. 

Romantic frustration was one hell of a drug. 

Staring at your mess of work, you could barely summon the will to read through it all. As you began to zone out, your eyes drifted off to the side and landed on the fan-building manual from Songbird, which you’d taken out last week in the hopes of using it. (You did not.) 

A bright idea illuminated the gloomy insides of your skull, and you abandoned all your work to follow Xiaolin to the dining room. 

One meal with your father and some servants later (your mother was out at yoga with her friends until hai shi), and you had just enough energy left to scan through your papers to ensure you hadn’t slipped up and written Jiang Wanyin’s or your own name instead of your OCs.

These drafts teeming with sappy feelings were going straight to Songbird! 

As a business partner, Songbird loved anything that sold—and what sold was smut. But as a friend, he was a hopeless romantic. He sighed and fawned over your amateurish poetry, and every so often when you felt particularly low about your singleness and confided in him, he offered words of sympathy. You didn’t quite know his life, only knew he was older than you and unmarried as well, but you had a mutual agreement that you weren’t interested in solving that problem for each other. Drowning yourselves in fictional romantic nonsense did just fine for the two of you. 

If you never wanted to look at your own material again, he was a black hole who would read your shitty drafts voraciously and spit out the most deranged praise you’d ever heard. It was the perfect solution! 

Part of you wanted nothing more than to spill the whole story to him, names and all. But right now, the most special part of your relationship with Songbird was the anonymity. Not for the first time, you mourned the loss of access to your friends that came with adulthood; it would take days before anyone local would have the time to escape their duties and listen to you yammer on about this guy you kept meeting by pure coincidence. A few of them knew through letters (though you withheld Jiang Wanyin’s identity for… preservation reasons), but it just wasn’t the same as gushing about him face to face. (Just the thought of it made you cringe at your big age, but there was no way around it. You were a little bit in love.)

So, with a slightly unhinged letter to Qinghe and an extra coin to your family’s round-the-clock delivery guy for speed and secrecy, you sent off your drafts in the dark of night and did your best to put it all out of your mind. 

To the expert secret-keeper Songbird, 

 

I can’t believe you unwittingly convinced me into the best day of my life. There were puppies, Songbird. So many puppies. But also—DON’T take this phrasing the wrong way—I happened to meet someone during my excursion, and this has led me succinctly to my doom. 

 

My imagination has, unfortunately, gotten the better of me. I’ve sent with this letter some garbage that spawned from my outing. All of it is mere projection, so please trust that I’m not about to jump into someone’s arms anytime soon.

 

I’m entrusting this self-indulgent trash to you, for your eyes only. Please take it off my hands for the rest of time, and feel free to burn every last page once your enjoyment is through. 

 

Much love and envy from humid Yunmeng, 

The Cat Curiosity Killed

Chapter Text

The funny thing about the brain was that it only cared to be straightforward when putting your own fears and yearnings on blast. 

Perhaps you’d overstayed your own mind’s welcome, but upon this third night of recovering from that incident, your dreams were a restless mishmash of all the times you saw Jiang Wanyin, good and bad. At best, it was you and him at the shelter, petting dogs. Sometimes he was replaced with a friend of yours, behaving in that same dream-character manner as if nothing was amiss. Sometimes the dogs were replaced with the one who bit your hand—a whole field’s worth of that single sleepy, brown-furred puppy. Sometimes you’d look too long at a puppy and it would start to look like Fairy. Sometimes you’d look away from Jiang Wanyin for too long, and when you looked back, he was Jin Ling until you remembered to blink. 

Ah, then at worst, Jiang Wanyin yelled. All his reprimands folded between dream scenes like using another book’s pages as a bookmark. His hands grabbed you, his voice harsh in your ear; his words came cruel and matter-of-fact. The you in these dreams believed every word, letting him push you around like a winter wind turned human. Somewhere in your unconscious mind, you must have believed Jiang Wanyin wanted to escalate, was resisting these urges to punish you for disrespect. 

(And then were the dreams that delved a little too deep, where those touches went elsewhere. Where your mind disregarded memory to create something new, and your bodies crowded each other past flesh. There was no talking in those dreams.)

None of it lasted any longer upon waking than a palm full of sand. Even the warmest grains tumbled from your grasp once your body succumbed to motion. 

For better or worse, overactive dreams were cast to the wayside when you remembered a day and a half before your next trip to Lotus Pier that you actually needed certain materials to present to Jiang Wanyin and his treasurer. Heck. 

Employing the help of both parents, you managed to cobble together a decent financial plan for the decor of Lotus Pier. The designers and those engineers borrowed from the capital had been working this whole time on the assumption that the finances would all be in perfect order. It was just up to you to negotiate a decent payout that wouldn’t scare Jiang Wanyin off from accepting the whole business deal. 

After going as far as showing your father the entire list of goods ordered by Yunmeng Jiang, you had in your hands a rather workable budget that you’d get double-checked by your mother. It wasn’t that your father was untrustworthy—due to certain personality overlaps, you could only endure his… particular style of explanation for so long. Nonetheless, you got the price points all listed and smoothed down for presentation. 

And then, because you were haunted through the day and well into the night by the prospect of disappointing Jiang Wanyin’s expectations, you scribbled out a list of anxious questions you only half-knew, and, coming up to the evening before your trip, you bothered your busy parents individually until they provided decently similar answers. 

So, no thanks to your stress and questionable time management, you managed to get just enough sleep that you were neither late to your appointment at Lotus Pier, nor were dead on your feet. (What you could thank for this feat was your request of Xiaolin to drag you out of bed on time at all costs. For better or worse, she was accustomed to the grueling task.)

The location of interest was the same conference room as before, but this time, seated at the long table was a round-faced, freckled lady with a neat curtain of bangs, a high bun, and two delicate braids draped down front over her chest. She was picking at the tuft at the end of one braid when you entered, and lifted that hand to wave as she fixed you with a lazy stare. 

“Morning,” she drawled, her low voice raspy and oddly pleasant. “I’m Guang Mao, treasurer of this fine sect. Nice to meet you in person.” 

It was technically past noon, but you didn’t correct the greeting. “Yeah,” you said with a smile you hoped wasn’t awkward, then introduced yourself in turn. 

Any expectations you’d had of her weren’t dashed, per se, because you’d only communicated with her through a letter or two, some months ago. She’d cracked a couple jokes in a way that allowed plausible deniability, so you’d been curious to see how that translated. So far, it was slightly more nerve-itching than you’d hoped; the straight-faced type of jokester, maybe. 

Guang Mao was not an encouraging entourage, her demeanor languid yet difficult to interpret. Like many things in your life, despite having plenty of practice, reading people was not a skill you were wholly confident in. It was hard to tell if she even wanted to be here. 

Your question was promptly answered when she yawned so wide you felt your own jaw crack, practically slumping into the table with her cheek squished in her hand. “Aiyah, I really hate being visited by the red lady,” she complained with the full expectation you could relate. 

And that, you did! “That sucks,” you lamented, lips tilted in a sympathetic frown. It was uncommon for anyone to bring up their menstruation outside a medical clinic, so it stood to consider she was performing a litmus test of sorts. In your mind, though, some curiosities arose. 

Your own cycle had taken a massive and fortunate hit when you formed your golden core; it now only bothered you for approximately ten hours per moon cycle, though that meant having to prune in the bath for half your day whenever you felt it coming on. Otherwise you’d end up with the entire room painted red. Considering your, ah, unique cultivation base, you didn’t know whether other uterus-having cultivators experienced similar effects. It was not wise to ask upon first meeting. 

Humming (or grumbling?), Guang Mao idly scratched some divots in the tabletop with her long, curved fingernails. “It extra sucks when there’s work to do. Like, I never really want to get out of bed and handle Jiang Cheng’s super-stingy budget. But it’s just impossible to freaking wake up like this. Took me literally a whole shichen yesterday morning. I swear I’d rot in bed if I didn’t have my own blood to worry about, I really would.” 

Aha… so that’s how it was. Some interesting information you were getting. 

“I feel that,” you said vaguely, though with no shortage of sincerity. “I thought there were no issues with Yunmeng Jiang’s budget?”

Her nails tapped on the table, clickclickclickclick, one cascade after another. Left with nothing else to do while being subjected to her silent judgment, you took notice of the silver polish tipping her fingers. Guang Mao’s appearance was deceptively simple, but the closer you looked, themes began to arise. Silver tracing the patterns of her Yunmeng Jiang uniform. Thin rings on her pinky fingers, small but bright earrings dangling from her lobes. Silver woven into the braids that disappeared into her bun. Understated, but elegant—easy to overlook if her façade of indolence kept the forefront. 

She was quiet for so long that you forgot you’d asked a question. So, naturally, you were mildly jumpscared when she suddenly said, “Our finances would be just fine even if Jiang Cheng didn’t scrimp on the least significant things ever.” 

At your blank stare, Guang Mao’s lips curled in a smirk. “He’s such a funny kid. He’s fickle, you know? Picky about whose advice he listens to. I can make passive-aggressive comments all I want, but he’ll only ever tell me I’m not being paid to give my opinions. And after all the opinions he has asked me for!” 

… First of all, it was worth noting that Guang Mao looked significantly younger than Jiang Wanyin.

She continued, “He’ll refuse to renovate the outer docks unless they fall into the dang lake just because ‘nobody goes there unless they can swim,’ but he’ll ask me in the same breath if we can sponsor this orphanage and that animal rescue.” 

Your heart thudded. Did she know? 

Perhaps ignoring your internal screeching, Guang Mao raked her eyes over your hunched form. “And then he’ll turn around and spend all this money making Lotus Pier look slightly cooler. How’d you manage that, guniang?” 

Turning her words over in your head, you carefully replied, “All I did was reach out and make my case. It was your and Jiang-zongzhu’s decision.” 

Not referring to him by his courtesy name did something weird to your insides, like you’d swallowed a worm. You’d only spent one day being that familiar with him, and it was already so strange to return to formality. And he wasn’t even in the room yet! Apparently your heart was in a worse state than you thought. 

Guang Mao gave you a once-over, the curve of her lips softening. “You’re right. I’ve been wanting to spruce up this place for a while, so you’ve brought me a convenient excuse,” she said cheerfully. “It’s just unusual for Jiang Cheng to agree to personal spending. He likes philanthropy when it looks good, and he’ll freak out over a single dent in the walls, but anything past appearances or, like, basic safety, he won’t spend a cent.” 

Uncertain what to do with this information, you gave a noncommittal hum and otherwise stayed quiet. It did make sense that Jiang Wanyin cared about appearances, but why would his literal treasurer care to tell you this? Surely she wasn’t so loose-tongued with everyone the sect worked with. 

A few terrifying seconds into the impending silence, the door behind Guang Mao was shoved open. 

“MaoMao, where’s the plate of watermelon slices? I thought Yinhua took them from the kitchens—”

Jiang Wanyin had a bad habit of not looking into the room before running his mouth. 

He was wearing a different outfit today, his usual uniform replaced with a long-sleeved robe of the same beautiful color. Fewer layers overall—probably to combat the hot weather. You absorbed the new getup with subtle appreciation, and Guang Mao tipped her head backwards to look at him upside-down.

“There’s watermelon?” you said cheerily when Jiang Wanyin’s mouth clicked shut. He hit a new record for how fast his face could turn red. Like watermelon! 

“Mmhm,” Guang Mao hummed. “They’re on the table in your office, ChengCheng.” 

You watched in fascination as Jiang Wanyin’s ears caught his blush like a branch on fire. “I told you not to call me that!” he hissed, but he stormed right back out with a slam of the door. 

Turning to you, Guang Mao’s lips curled up, deep blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s true. He really doesn’t like being called that, but it was only fair.” 

You were slightly afraid to ask more questions, so you settled to spread out your pages of finance stuff on the table and act like your arrangement of them mattered whatsoever. This stalled the impending conversation just enough that Jiang Wanyin returned with a slightly more normal complexion and a plate of carefully arranged watermelon slices. 

“I trust you’ve introduced yourselves,” he said with a formal expression as he set the plate at the ideal distance between your three seats. 

Guang Mao made an idle noise in her throat, eyes fixed on the plate but making no moves for it. You could imagine a tail flicking back and forth behind her. 

Looking up at Jiang Wanyin, you countered his careful expression with a grin. “For me?” you said sweetly, clasping your hands like a pleading child. 

A laugh snorted from Guang Mao, while Jiang Wanyin rolled his eyes. “Control yourself,” he said dryly. 

“Like you’re one to talk,” Guang Mao quipped as she manifested a crumpled ball of paper and tossed it from hand to hand. She looked at you, the paper moving perfectly as if attracted between her hands like magnets. A cultivation trick, or just really good coordination?! “You know, this one will eat half a watermelon by himself. Just split it on the ground and take a spoon to it.” 

Rubbing your knuckles across your lips to assuage your growing smile, you glanced between them. “What’s so special about that? Watermelon isn’t filling at all,” you said in his defense. “I could do that too.”

Guang Mao looked at her sect leader with such glee that she certainly expected him to take it as a challenge. 

Alas, the unintentional bait remained an innocuous comment. Jiang Wanyin released a weary sigh. “Just keep the papers clean.”

And that was that. 

At your dutiful nod, you all reached for some watermelon, and the meeting began.

Chapter Text

It turned out that Guang Mao was not to be trifled with when it came to money. Crazy how that worked. 

Her idle mannerisms didn’t diminish, but something in her voice shifted like a reflection in a pond rippling into clarity. She scrutinized each of the available blueprints and the price scribbled on the corner, cross-referenced with her own materials, and had you show her what was written on your own list one by one. Your parents had warned you that everybody handled their finances differently—different systems, different levels of care. Guang Mao, as expected of someone associated with Jiang Wanyin, meant serious fucking business. 

Of course, this awe-inspiring image was undercut by the delicate perch of a half-nibbled slice of watermelon between her pinky and thumb. The dexterity it took not to get even a drop of juice on her fingers was even more intimidating than the calm, calculated look in her eyes. It also made this meeting feel more engaging, in a hostage situation type of way. 

After an arduous shichen or so, Guang Mao finally stretched her arms up and back, nearly tipping over the chair if not for Jiang Wanyin catching it without blinking twice. 

“M’kay, that’s enough,” she groaned. The audible pops of her spine had you suppressing a grimace. 

Leaning forward as if to compensate, Guang Mao rested her chin on her hand. “So, I’ll send you off with your down payment, but you’re not gonna get anything else till it’s all installed and working like a charm, alright?” 

You fidgeted beneath the table. “Well, installed, I can agree with…” 

She scratched her fingertips on the table. “Naw, that last part was a joke. If we can see the goods right in front of us, then we’ll pay you. Full refund and then some if your products turn out to be trash, though.”

Only the confidence in your family’s reputability kept your spirits from being squished like an ant underfoot. It was a very, very good thing this was one of the questions you’d remembered to ask your father last night. 

“Fifteen percent for the respective goods, and only if they don’t function as established,” you asserted. “And please remember, we’re happy to make adjustments up through one month after the merchandise is delivered—within reason, obviously.”

Fingers pulling at your own sleeves, your eyes darted back and forth between Jiang Wanyin and Guang Mao so you didn’t have to settle on one of them. Arms folded as always, Jiang Wanyin only looked at you with a neutral expression. Did that mean… he approved…? 

“Hmmmm… that’s fine,” Guang Mao chirped. 

You blinked. That was less negotiation than you expected. Had you misremembered your father’s advice and set the return price too high? Were you screwing your family over?! 

“Everything is reasonable,” Jiang Wanyin cut in. Both you and Guang Mao looked at him, your heart pounding. “The designs look good, and I’ll hand these blueprints over to my workers. As long as the finished products are exquisite and functional, we won’t have a problem.” 

“Of course,” you rushed to say, now feeling like your chair was the one tilting back to fall. Meeting done? Meeting over? Oh, next meeting! “I, um, don’t know when most of the products will be done, but I’ll write you a letter when it’s time for approvals?”

Fortunately, they both agreed to the plan without fuss. Unfortunately, this meant you reached the end of the trail denoting your thoughts, and unless you came up with something soon, you were about to step out into a cliffside. 

“Ah, uhm, we’ve been working on the models for the larger products, but now that we’ve settled on the final designs here, we’ll get started right on it,” you rambled. This wasn’t relevant information. Why were you still talking? How did people usually close out meetings? Were you forgetting to tell them something important?! 

After several seconds of awkward silence and a very cool thumbs-up on your end, Guang Mao came to your rescue. 

“Well, I’ll be right back,” she said, extremely unhelpfully pushing out her seat to stand. 

That was not a rescue! 

Guang Mao sauntered just far enough to fully enjoy your Where are you going??? face. Scratching at her jaw with her pointer finger, she explained, “Gotta get your money. To pay you and such.”

That reasoning didn’t make it much better! Why was she stranding you?! 

“O… kay…” you stuttered, watching helplessly as Guang Mao grinned so big her eyes closed, then slipped out of the room. 

Your eyes flicked over to Jiang Wanyin, turning your head slowly to make eye contact. The comedic effect was lost on the likes of him. 

“So, uh,” you tried, “if you’ve got any questions, I’ll answer them? Unless I don’t know the answer, in which case I’ll ask my dad and get back to you.” 

Jiang Wanyin didn’t look all that amused as you chuckled nervously. If you were being honest, you just wanted to talk about literally anything but money right now. Or business in general. All that stuff was exhausting; there was a reason you didn’t want to inherit the family business. And aside from that, it was hard enough being in the same room as him right now, after all that work yearning over him while you were apart! What topics could you possibly cover that wouldn’t make you feel the full brunt of your attraction to him? 

But Jiang Wanyin didn’t seem to have anything to say, himself. He only eyed you, lips turned in a small frown that could mean anything. 

Now that you thought about it, Guang Mao had done most of the talking today. Jiang Wanyin had been acting strange this whole time—just a bit quiet, but enough that it confused you. For a moment you wondered if you’d made things weird by getting so close to him at the animal shelter, but you did yourself a favor and dismissed it. Any number of things could be on his mind; how self-centered to think you were the one affecting his mood just because he happened to be looking at you! 

So, you fell silent, merely watching him in return. In the end, you didn’t really have anything to say either, so there was no harm in letting things be. 

Guang Mao took her sweet time returning. It came to the point where it occurred to you that she might be changing her, ah, menstrual catcher—but the fact remained, she abandoned you to many minutes of no conversation with Jiang Wanyin. 

Eventually you became bored enough that you doodled on a spare piece of paper, careful not to get ink on the pages of your negotiated prices for each item. The doodles turned into a study of Jiang Wanyin’s hair, and then a reimagining of your memory of his hairstyle from the other day. You were only half looking at the sketches, mostly glancing at him and grinning when he appeared consternated by your attention. 

All the while, he didn’t make a peep. Usually he’d have snapped at you by now, asking in his sour way why you were staring at him. Part of you expected that he’d scoff at your amateurish artwork and judge it with all the might of an emperor who’d requested a portrait. What was with him today? So meek. 

Pausing your blotchy rendition of the braids woven up from his temple to his bun, you reached for another watermelon slice and contemplated spitting the seeds at him. That skill was not within your repertoire, so you opted not to make a mess and simply munched on the sweet, watery flesh. You did your best not to make any annoying smacking sounds as you chewed, but when you invited Jiang Wanyin to partake with a gesture between him and the plate, he declined, and you just had to deal with being the only sound in the room. 

Your teeth methodically crushed each bite until you swallowed. Sometimes people bustled down the hall, their muted voices chipper. And Jiang Wanyin stared at you, pretending that it was completely normal. 

Upon finishing your slice down to the crunchy whites, you swung the curved rind back and forth a few times. “What would you do if I threw this at you?” you mused. 

Jiang Wanyin’s brows rose in disbelief. At least he was paying attention. 

At that moment, Guang Mao slunk back into the room; you narrowly avoided the shock of a lifetime due to the sound of the door opening. Her steps were shockingly light… was that a cultivation thing? You vaguely remembered the concept of qinggong. That’d probably require more leg strength than you currently possessed. 

“Hope you crazy kids didn’t get up to anything while I was gone,” she drawled, patting Jiang Wanyin with an audible smack at the center of his back. His face twitched in response, but he didn’t seem to react otherwise. 

Actually, he was so still for a few seconds that you realized he was lowkey in a freeze response. Hmmm. 

Then Guang Mao shoved your own mental foot in your mouth when she rounded the table and placed a hefty box of currency in front of you—with her hand resting soundly on your shoulder, her presence warm and tall at your back. 

A shiver traveled up your spine, unaccustomed to such casual touch. Her thumb grazed back and forth dangerously close to your neck, and she leaned further to tap the box as she began to speak; you felt her chest nudge your back over the edge of the chair. It was all just nonchalant enough that you knew it was one hundred percent on purpose. 

Eyes fixed on the box containing your payment, you listened with half a mind while she explained the lineup of gold pieces inside, nearly forgetting to breathe the longer her hand stayed touching you. The sensation changed to a hollowness where your heart kept beating—something scooped out like a peach pit, your chest the pulpy flesh. 

Guang Mao’s voice tapered out, leaving the room quiet once more. You moved, the twitch of a muscle somewhere, and her touch vanished. 

Just like that, Guang Mao was in her seat like she hadn’t dazed you into next week. 

That… brought up some uncomfortably familiar feelings. Sometimes—every few years, if that—you would visit a brothel when you hit writer’s block at an inopportune time. These were the most natural places to inquire about sexual experiences and various kinks, not having to worry about the interviewees being scandalized. (And, not that you’d ever say it, but you felt bad for the ladies who worked there, and your smut research was a good excuse to pay them some extra money.) The jiejies in the parlor where they got ready for clients would tease you like this, with innocuous touches on your shoulders, back, and arms, giggling that you responded like a virgin. Which you blatantly were. 

You remembered the first time they did it, surrounding you from all sides like you were a prince with his concubines. The presence of just one body stunned you into a tumultuous and deeply confounding maelstrom of feelings, let alone a whole group of beautiful women… even if they didn’t arouse that sort of interest. 

So what the hell was that, Guang Mao?!

“Thanks,” you managed, glancing around the room to recollect yourself. You gave the box an experimental push, and found that it was just barely liftable. If you lugged it back to your carriage, you’d end up taking a break every minute to give your grip a rest. 

When you summoned the courage to look, Jiang Wanyin had a terrifyingly blank expression, and Guang Mao seemed to be analyzing both of you. This was not the energy you were expecting from this meeting. 

Feeling lost and with every bit of business sense gone from your head, you asked, “Is that all? Are we done?” 

To which Guang Mao glanced at her sect leader and smirked in a way that could send a tsunami back out to sea. “Oh, I don’t know. Is that all, Zongzhu?” 

As if that weren’t strange enough, Jiang Wanyin finally had a reaction. He cut her a sharp glance, almost warning to the point that you were taken aback just seeing it. You thought you heard his knuckles crack beneath the table. 

“Just get out,” he muttered to Guang Mao. 

She happily obliged, but not before she dragged her shrewd gaze across your whole body. It felt not unlike a cat lazily assessing a bird that was hopping around nearby. “It was nice to meet you,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I’ll see ya again sometime.” 

You remembered to say “You too” just in time for her to close the door behind her, leaving you alone with Jiang Wanyin once again. This time, steeped in a different flavor of confusion.

When you turned to Jiang Wanyin once more with a baffled smile, he met you with a scowl that made you worry for his pain tolerance. Seriously, did his jaw not hurt whenever he made that face? Would that glare not give him a headache?

A few heartbeats passed in stubborn silence, so in an attempt to nudge him, you poked your pointer fingers together and asked with wide, guileless eyes, “Am I in trouble?” 

Jiang Wanyin’s nose twitched, and it looked like he was about to pull a jaw muscle. “Ridiculous,” he muttered, seemingly to assure you that you were not, in fact, in trouble. Then he very naturally stated, “I’ll send someone to bring that money to your carriage and guard it until you leave.” 

Brow lowering, you kept your perplexed smile and remarked, “Implying that I’m not leaving now?” 

The meeting was over, so was he going to… invite you to hang out…? As much as you’d like that, the possibility was too odd to take seriously. So, you hung on to your patience and waited for him to elaborate. 

Still without providing an answer, Jiang Wanyin abruptly stood up and stalked around the table. You watched with increasing bewilderment as he stopped to the side of your chair, radiating impatience and with his hands wrapped oddly in his sleeves. 

“Get up,” he ordered. No explanation. Never an explanation! 

Any of the dozen assumptions that popped into your head were brushed off like usual; there was no predicting this guy. When you did as he said and stood to face him, Jiang Wanyin grabbed your arm, then released it, then marched off to the door while glaring at you over his shoulder. 

Of course, you followed him. What else could that possibly have meant?

Chapter Text

Leaving all your materials behind, you walked with Jiang Wanyin through the maze of halls (they’d form a map in your brain someday), hesitating on whether to question him. It was less that you worried over his response, and more that you didn’t think he would explain until he was ready. He kind of had the approachability of a cat, which was equally cute and troublesome. 

The pair of you made it out into the open, skirting the border of some vaguely familiar training grounds and pavilions. Eventually you settled on at least confirming, “Whoever’s taking that payment to my carriage is also bringing my papers and stuff, right? For convenience.” 

Jiang Wanyin grunted in confirmation. You made a mental note to check for all the right materials before you took off, and continued to tread alongside him, following his lead.

Your suspicions arose when you entered a section of Lotus Pier’s gardens, which flourished in greenery but was sparse in people. A few gardeners meandered here and there, nodding respectfully at their sect leader, but Jiang Wanyin merely headed on forward. 

These gardens had a different variety of plants than your own land. Slowing your pace, you sidled a bit off track to peer at the carefully trimmed flora. After scanning a few rows, you recognized the patterns: many medicinal herbs and other leafy plants, with the occasional decorative flower to spice things up. But you were no botanist. 

Returning your attention to Jiang Wanyin, you found him basically ignoring your existence. He walked with his posture straight but riddled with unwarranted tension, fidgeting with his sleeves and his metal ring. Even though he wasn’t looking at you, he was still paying attention, always slowing when you lingered, and resuming when you caught up. 

Finally, when there was no one in sight, Jiang Wanyin stopped. Following suit, you stood a respectful distance from him and made up for it with an ungracious stare. 

He wasn’t going to kill you or something, was he? His sect had just paid you a ton of money. It hadn’t left the premises yet, but that still wouldn’t be very sensible from a business perspective. Maybe you were in for some threats? Ah, but he’d said you weren’t in trouble. 

Feeling your heart begin to pick up speed, you rubbed one thumb on the heel of your palm and managed to stop working yourself up. 

“Is something the matter?” you asked as he grappled with the arduous task of facing your direction. 

His head tilted down, then creaked to the side in a frowning glance. “You…” 

Guang Mao was right; Jiang Wanyin was a funny kid. 

What on earth was making him struggle so bad with articulating himself? You weren’t intimidating, were you? 

“Take your time,” you offered, wandering a few meters to inspect a bush of begonias planted beneath a sturdy-looking tree. “I’ve got nowhere to be.” 

Cultivators generally seemed to exist in quietude—light steps, easy meditation, barely stirring the air when they moved. But you could’ve sworn you heard Jiang Wanyin’s breath do a funny little something just now. 

Rubbing the vibrant red tip of a velvety petal between your thumb and forefinger, you cast him a curious glance over your shoulder. You were met with those intense eyes, not quite studying you, but laden with some emotion you couldn’t parse. 

“The other day,” he said haltingly, and you stood straight. “With the spirit dogs. When you… you said…” 

Strangely, he lost the ability to make eye contact once more, turning away and gripping one sleeve before releasing it. 

Thinking he was about ready to talk, you made a quiet approach until he was just beyond arm’s reach. The purple of his robes nearly made him look like a flower among all these plants, a distinguished lotus reaching for the sun itself. 

Damn sappy thoughts. 

Heart thudding, you waited with thinning patience as he summoned his words. 

His fists suddenly clenched at his sides, and he whipped his head around to face you with a glare so vicious you nearly took a step back. 

“Are you using this business agreement as an excuse to convince me to court you?” he demanded. 

Your entire body stopped functioning. “Uh.” 

A million tiny explosions burned your insides to a crisp. Courting? He brought up courting? He thought about courting in relation to you? He was indignant at the very concept? 

Prickling with heat from your face to your guts, you gaped at him and tried not to agree on sheer impulse, because at this point, you really, really wanted to grab this chance and throttle it like a ragdoll. 

Yes, you wanted to court him! He was the epitome of beauty and competence! You had yet to spend a dull moment with him! His obvious traumas only added to his allure! You could fix him! 

… But! That would be playing directly into your mother’s hands! The woman spent your business debriefs giving you smug looks when you fondly mentioned Jiang Wanyin, which drove you nuts already. Just thinking about it now, your heels dug so deep into the ground you’d be leaving a trail of parallel lines wherever you walked. 

No matter how much you’d like to shoot your shot, the idea of giving in to infatuation and showing your parents even the slightest inch of conformity to social expectation was just plain unacceptable. And anyhow, now wasn’t the time—he probably wasn’t asking with the intention of accepting your courtship (though it was hard to tell, with him).

Taking a deep, decisive breath, you looked at his ear instead of making terrifying eye contact, and chose your words with extreme care and consideration. “Obviously not?” 

… Maybe the shock of his accusation had fried your brain, not just your soul. 

Jiang Wanyin leaped at your response like a snarling dog. “But you’re unmarried!” 

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

The question was somewhat dishonest—of course it was pertinent that you were glaringly single. Anyone who was single at your age (or his age, for that matter!) would be subject to societal judgment. But hadn’t you made it clear to him that you didn’t care what others thought? 

When he looked stunned by your response, you considered the possibility he was projecting. Did he do this with every woman he spoke to, or were you just the first who actually expressed affection for him? That would be kind of sad. (Even if it heightened your chances significantly.) 

“Then,” Jiang Wanyin searched for words with obvious frustration, “it’s your parents with the ulterior motives!” 

“When I said it wasn’t my idea to offer our business, dude, that’s not what I meant!” You placed your palm on your forehead, exasperated beyond this earthly plane. “They know better than to force me to do anything. I have free will, you know.” 

A moment of suspension, both of you staring at each other in mutual but distinct disbelief. Part of you wanted to give him the bigger picture, full honesty—you did like him, you found him beautiful, and you wouldn’t decline a courtship. That part of you usually drove your decisions. But on the other side of the scale, your more cautious parts held the suspicion that Jiang Wanyin would take your admission as the worst case in his cynical mind. Whether he would see you as a status seeker or a frivolous-hearted maiden, it didn’t matter. Your only choice in preserving this tenuous relationship was a rational deception. 

Taking another breath to calm your boiling insides, you said, “Listen. I don’t know what led you to that conclusion, but I don’t want the obvious fact that we’re both single to mess up any of this,” you gestured vaguely between him and yourself, “business stuff. It’s not like marriage is never on my mind, but I don’t go through life as if finding a husband is my only reason for doing anything. I like talking to people because I like talking to people, and I like talking to you because I like talking to you.” 

With your next breath, you observed him carefully, and saw his expression falter. One of the many tiny bubbles boiling in your heart splattered, raining hot water droplets all over your ribs, the burn lingering. 

“And, Jiang-zongzhu,” you added, smile strained, “I would like to be your friend.” 

He stared at you for a long time, visibly wanting to retort. To argue. Perhaps to berate. But he deflated, almost like he’d been holding as much air in his lungs as possible. “You can start by calling me by my damn name,” he muttered. “I already fucking told you.” 

You couldn’t help but soften in relief. “Point taken… Wanyin.” 

Taking a moment to relish the flush in his cheeks, you offered another, lighthearted assurance. “I’m a little offended you’d think I’d cling to your thighs for no reason. I’m not gonna go out of my way to arrange a marriage against your will or something. That’d just be plain rude to both of us.” 

His reaction to that was a little odd, a woodenness you couldn’t remember seeing before, but he ultimately nodded like you expected. 

“Good,” he said stiffly. “I don’t need a wife anyway. I don’t need someone arguing with me on every little detail of my life.” 

That gave you pause. A very heavy, very speechless pause that made you stare at him for so long that Jiang Wanyin started to look uncomfortable. 

“Uh,” you said, at a loss. “I beg your finest pardon?” 

Defensiveness instantly crossed his expression. His whole posture was closed off, arms folded tightly and jaw clenched so hard his teeth might crack. “Tying two people together for eternity is a useless invitation for disagreements. It’s inevitable that ‘love,’” you didn’t like the way he said that, “turns into toleration, if that even lasts. Marriage is a useless convention.” 

You definitely wanted to cry more than laugh. How badly had his parents’ relationship hurt him? 

“That,” you said slowly, “isn’t what a healthy marriage looks like. Nor most of them, I’d say. You know that, right?” 

He shook his head, but you couldn’t let him stew in this unchecked pessimism. 

“How many of your disciples are married? Would you say that to their faces?” you persisted, to his testy glare. “Am I gonna have to introduce you to some of my happily married friends?” A terrible idea for your own dignity, but a good threat. 

Jiang Wanyin scoffed. “You don’t know what they get up to in their spare time.” 

“Stars above, Jiang Wanyin, not everybody is a terrible person!” Stomach turning at his implications, you couldn’t resist closing the gap so you could shove his arm, dumping your frustrations into that bit of contact. “It’s okay to admit you were exaggerating, you know? No one’s gonna hurt you for being a little optimistic, and nobody’s gonna force you into marriage if you don’t want it. Hell, I’m not a huge fan of marriage myself, but even I can admit most people turn out just fine!” 

Now that you’d made it this far without his reprimand, here came the hard part: trying not to sweeten your touches. Your face was tilted up to look at him, but your eyes kept skimming just past his handsome face, the blue of the sky the perfect blankness to settle yourself.

Pushing his arm again, you gave his bicep a squeeze and tried to keep your grip firm. “Don’t get me wrong—I think a lot of people jump into marriage with people they barely know, but with the way things are set up, there’s often no choice. I’m only able to afford staying out of an arranged marriage and childbirth because my family is wealthy. And trust me,” your fingers tightened, “I do not want a child. But—most people, even if they can’t choose for themselves, make it work. It’s not tolerance, it’s—it’s love… and love is work. People don’t just magically stay in love like they do when they’re courting. It’s hard work, from both sides.” 

Jiang Wanyin gazed at you mutely, his lips parted in an open expression of surprise. Realizing what you just rambled about, your face heated up, and you took a step back. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, embarrassed. “You didn’t ask.” 

He didn’t respond for a while, seeming to ponder your words as he looked down at you. Eventually, he said, “Why do you always give people the benefit of the doubt?” 

The question sounded sincere; it almost surprised you. 

“I’m not so sure I do. I just know that people are complicated,” you answered easily. 

That was the simple truth of it.

Chapter Text

Jiang Wanyin seemed at a loss for words. He slowly withdrew with a half-step of his own and turned to face a nearby tree, eyes downcast. You hesitated, choosing to let him tamp down whatever string you’d plucked in his head. 

Whatever he was working through, you had no insight and would not gain any; you didn’t know what to expect at all. Was this the natural (if uncomfortable) end to the conversation? Should you make yourself scarce?

But then, completely against those barely formed expectations—he looked at you, pulled something from his sleeve, and gruffly said, “Take this.” 

Barely able to react, your hands instinctively came up to accept the item, looking down in time to watch him drop something in your cupped palms. 

A soft cloth pouch landed without a sound. The deep purple of the fabric captivated you, its silver trim glittering in the sunlight. You were instantly distracted with the pleasing texture, and you ran your fingers over it for a few seconds before remembering to ask, “What’s this for?” 

Jiang Wanyin did his poor jaw even more disservice until he managed to grit through his teeth, “It’s a qiankun pouch.” 

It took a moment to understand. And when you did, you felt something drop out from under you—a platform in your chest, delving your heart into a sun-warmed lake. 

Lifting your eyes, you gazed at him in awe. He refused to look at you again, his arms folded as he faced a leafy hedge like he wanted to set it on fire. 

This man would insult love and disavow it from his life, then in this same conversation gift you a handcrafted spiritual item, just because you were curious about it once. His motives might elude you, what with his thorny tongue and briar eyes, but you could be sure of one thing: 

He liked you, at least a little bit. Enough to want to do something for you without being asked. 

“And this is for me?” you had to confirm. 

Jiang Wanyin was turning his ring again. “Yes,” he muttered. 

Closing your eyes, you took a moment to see your feelings through your body. A flutter in your chest and stomach, a light squeeze in your throat. You allowed your fingers to press into the pouch’s smooth cloth, making wrinkles that vanished the moment your touch shifted. Lips upturned, your feet brought you a treacherous step toward him. 

“Why?” you asked, simple and heartfelt. 

He flushed, taken aback by being questioned. “It’s annoying to see you lug around that stupid belt,” he said after a moment of speechlessness. 

What an obvious excuse. There was no way a spiritual device like this would be crafted with less than a full week of work. 

“My belt that you saw me use once?” you teased. 

“It’s ridiculous and impractical,” he shot back. 

But how could he know that you commissioned your belt—and multiple harness attachments—specifically for its practicality? Plus, you liked how the whole assembly looked on you, even if your bare legs and hips were for your eyes only. 

Jiang Wanyin continued, “Since you have a damn core, you might as well put it to some use.” 

Giddy with the delight of an unexpected gift, you drew the pouch open and poked an experimental finger inside. It hit the bottom of the pouch at a normal depth, making you frown in confusion. Wasn’t this thing supposed to be fathomless?

The air beside you shifted, and just like you’d imagined after that day, Jiang Wanyin’s hands came up from beneath to cup yours. 

You stilled, allowing him to guide you to hold the qiankun pouch normally. 

“Don’t mess around with a spiritual item before you know how it works,” he chastised. But damn it, he was still touching you; it took self-control not to become reckless. 

“Show me,” you said before you could think twice. 

Glancing up, your eyes met his, and your gazes simultaneously dropped to your joined hands. 

“I was going to,” he murmured. 

A shiver raced down your spine. “Ah…” 

His hand could envelop yours if he moved it just a bit closer. Instead of reading your mind to oblige your fantasy, Jiang Wanyin tugged the pouch’s strings to close it, then prodded your hands until they clasped around the cloth bag like an oyster guarding its pearl. 

“There are a few types of qiankun pouches,” he explained. “This one will store inanimate objects. Don’t try to trap spirits with it; aside from just being reckless, it won’t work.” 

“Noted,” you said idly, wondering if you could get away with lowering your hands just a tad, so your skin could touch his. 

Oblivious to your slight distraction, he continued, “This is also the type of qiankun pouch that only opens for anyone whose qi is connected to it, with permission from the person of its primary spiritual bond.” 

Here, Jiang Wanyin paused. It felt apprehensive. 

“… It works similarly to Zidian in that way. There’s the owner of the item—me with Zidian, and you with this qiankun pouch—and anyone the owner sets as being able to use the spiritual item can do so. It’s linked to your will.” 

Shifting a bit, your gaze unconsciously dropped to the silver ring adorning his finger. “I didn’t know you could share Zidian’s power.” 

“… Yes, well. Jin Ling and my head disciple are the only ones who can wield it.” He cleared his throat in an attempt to move on. “What I’m saying is, other people won’t be able to access whatever you store inside unless you expressly want them to. In order to use it, you’ll have to bind it to your spiritual core. I’ll help you.” 

If you wanted to keep up with this lesson, you had to ignore the selfish satisfaction of knowing he commissioned this specially for you. “Okay,” you said intelligently. 

With a succinct nod, Jiang Wanyin evaporated your thoughts by holding your hands around the qiankun pouch. His skin was warm, his callouses a gentle scrape against the back of your hands. 

“Hold it close,” he guided, his voice vibrating into your chest like it could make music with your ribs. “Infuse your qi, just like I taught you.” 

This tenderness, so at odds with Jiang Wanyin’s usual personality, made you want to fucking scream. Even if you’d said yourself that you wouldn’t force him into an arranged marriage, it was astounding that nobody else had done it yet. From what you’d seen of him, none of his ice-barbed words could undermine this softer side he’d shown you more than a few times by now. Why didn’t anyone else want to snatch him for themselves?! People had no damn taste! 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you forced yourself to focus. This wasn’t the time to be reflecting on how bad you wanted to wife him up. It was a slight comfort that you didn’t have any competition. 

His expectant gaze was twice the worth of a whole crowd of people. You closed your eyes and concentrated, feeling the flow of your energy disrupt as you tried to direct it. 

Maybe he’d forgotten that you hadn’t really succeeded in infusing your qi back then. It was just hard to picture your energy entering something else, especially something inanimate. 

But the soft fabric warmed in your palms, responding to the slightest probe of your qi. Opening your eyes in surprise, you squinted suspiciously at the bag which retained its perfectly ordinary appearance. 

“I can’t accidentally explode this thing, right?” you asked doubtfully. 

Jiang Wanyin made a sound you interpreted as a laugh. “It’s a spiritual item,” he answered in a dry tone. “You’d have to make a marked effort to destroy it, and even then, you’re too weak.” 

Leave it to him to make every word a mixed signal. “Very reassuring,” you said wryly. “Being weak and devoid of qi reserves is the best.” 

“Aiyah, you have reserves,” he retorted, seeming a bit annoyed. “It’s your output that’s limited. It’s all internal, so you don’t know how to use it.” 

You risked a glance up, smile cheeky as you repeated, “Show me?” 

He met your eyes and glanced back down at your touching hands. “Just focus on learning what’s in front of you, idiot.” 

“I’m taking that as a maybe,” you stated, but you obliged and tried again to infuse the pouch with your qi. 

This time, you noticed a faint glimmer when your qi was activated. Bringing the qiankun pouch closer to your face—ah, his hands lifted with yours, what bliss—you marveled as the subtle weave of silver threaded into the fabric reacted to the infusion. It was like the glint of moonlight off rippling waves, a dark night and a way to see. The glow faded after a moment, and you had to blink a few times to snap out of your awe, glancing up at Jiang Wanyin to see if you’d done it right. 

Gray eyes flicked between the bag and your face, his storm calm. “Good. Now open it.”

His fingers dipped between yours, and your heart stopped. Warmth enclosed your hands to open the bag for you, a gentle back-and-forth until the drawstrings loosened and the elegant wrinkles of the entrance smoothed into a circle. Then his hands dropped, and you felt bereft in the humid summer afternoon air. 

Though he withdrew a step, he was still close enough that you suddenly felt too shy to look at him. It was simple enough to avoid it by way of testing your freshly bonded qiankun pouch.

Chapter Text

You poked into the pouch again, a grin spreading upon discovering that the bottom you’d hit before had now vanished. Giving in to the impulses, you placed the open bag onto one palm and reached your other hand inside, then angled it so it could swallow your whole arm. 

Before you got very far past your wrist joint, Jiang Wanyin snatched your arm and yanked it out. He thoroughly ignored your exaggerated pout, scolding, “This isn’t a toy. Stop that.” 

“It’s called experimenting, Wanyin!” You patted his bicep cheekily, and he twitched before releasing you. “Anyway, you probably wouldn’t give me something that’s gonna swallow me whole, right? There are limits, so tell me what those are or risk me doing something very silly to test it out.” He didn’t need to know that you intended to test it out anyway. 

Huffing an exasperated breath, Jiang Wanyin explained, “It’ll store anything of your choosing, and the total volume won’t exceed the size of…” He glanced around, then down at your body. The clinical gaze only made you a little self-conscious. “Your torso, more or less.” 

“Hmmm…” Pondering this, you bent down and shuffled the skirts of your robes out of the way. Jiang Wanyin made an odd sound, averting his eyes as you unlatched your money pouch from your belt and compared its size to the qiankun bag. The money pouch was bigger, but not by too much. 

“Cultivation is about visualizing what you want to happen,” Jiang Wanyin said, returning your attention to the present. “It’s shocking that you managed this much without a clear goal.” He held out his hand, and a coagulation of light transformed his ring into a whip you’d seen once, the day you met. 

Common sense told you that you’d only arouse his suspicions if you asked to wield Zidian, just for a moment. Curiosity yearned to fuck around and find out. 

With your eyes fixed on the crackling whip in open fascination, Jiang Wanyin gave you a strange look as he looped it around his hand. “You don’t put things physically in a qiankun pouch like with a regular one,” he proceeded, though clearly unnerved by your interest in his spiritual weapon. “It uses your spiritual core to expand the space inside the bag, and when you want to store something in it, it uses that same energy to transfer that item into its space.” 

Dozens of questions popped up right away. “What happens if I die? Does everything spring out of the qiankun bag? Or does it bind itself to someone else I’ve given permission to use it?” 

Jiang Wanyin pulled the loop of his whip taut with a snap, his eyes keen on you. Eventually he answered, “The space inside is preserved regardless of its bond to you because you’ve already imbued it with your qi. It would no longer be limited to just you opening it or retrieving its items, since a spiritual item can sense the loss of its owner.” 

He paused again, a stranger one than ever. “For example,” he said stiffly, “swords with a strong spiritual bond to their master can seal themselves against anyone. This… is what happened with.” 

Jiang Wanyin didn’t finish his sentence, seeming not to breathe. His gaze was distant yet sharp, like he was pointing an arrow at a target far away. 

“With… the Yiling Laozu. When he died. His sword sealed itself.” 

Your heart stuttered. He brought up Wei Wuxian of his own volition? Could you take advantage of this? 

But there was pain hidden there—poorly in the choke of his voice, but still. 

A gentle nudge. “That’s cool,” you said, keeping your tone casual. “Did it unseal when he, y’know, came back?” 

Jiang Wanyin shook his head, a small, jerky thing. You saw his free hand rise toward his dantian, then fall to his side. “Stop getting off track,” he rasped. “Your qiankun pouch will become a normal one when you die. It’s just a tool.” 

You didn’t argue. Whatever tumultuous feelings the topic brought up in him, you wouldn’t drag them out. He didn’t need to spill the ocean at your feet for you to see how mountainous those waves were. 

If there weren’t any more complications you needed to know before using the qiankun pouch, the next step was to… well, use it. 

Looking around, there was only the curved path of this section of the gardens in view. No benches or anything. So, you treaded a few steps beneath the nearest tree and plopped yourself down. Your robes pooled around you, and you rucked them up as you folded one leg and extended the other, reminiscent of a yoga pose you might’ve learned in a class once. Now that your belt was exposed, you began to work at the notches attaching various items to your body. 

First came the little knife you kept latched to the harness wrapped around your thigh. Quiet steps came from Jiang Wanyin’s direction, and you peeked up at him, tipping the leather-sheathed knife back and forth with your fingers. He observed the motion, eyeing the collection hanging off your belt, but he didn’t sit down. You chose not to address his brief glance down the curve of your leg, for both your sakes. 

His instructions were already half-forgotten at the back of your mind, but you would make do. The knife went in one hand, and the qiankun pouch went in the other. It seemed to sense your will right away—when you imagined the knife going into the pouch, the weapon began to stretch and distort, shrinking as it was sucked into the qiankun pouch with a flutter of fabric. 

Staring at the unassuming little bag in amazement, you reached for another item. A quick glow of light, a shrinking of the item, and it vanished into the pouch. 

“I love this already,” you remarked, then paused with your water flask halfway off your belt. “How do I get stuff out? And, uh, how do I even know what’s inside?”

“You’ll make me recite a whole manual at this rate,” Jiang Wanyin muttered, but he obliged nonetheless. “See what happens when you resonate a bit of spiritual energy with the qiankun pouch.” 

Trusting his instruction, you pulled the drawstrings shut and cradled the pouch in your hands. Resonance sounded sort of similar to infusion, so you took that assumption and let some qi buzz up to your fingertips. 

The pouch warmed, and you had the sensation of touching a shell buried beneath the sand. Probing a little more, the shape of each item in your qiankun pouch collected into something you could recognize. 

“Cultivation is so awesome,” you preened, face blooming in a delighted smile. The cultivator’s presence was forgotten as your new belonging took complete claim of your attention. 

Fairly certain you could take a stab (ha) at it yourself, you imagined the reverse of what you saw as you stored your items—a flash of light encompassing your handy knife, but pooling from the mouth of the bag to form your beloved trinket. A pulling sensation stretched like adhesive paste between your meridians and the qiankun pouch, and just like that, the knife materialized in your open grip. 

However, you timed it wrong and the point of the leather sheath bounced off your leg as it fell to the ground. “Ack!” You fumbled everything in your grip; fortunately, nothing came spilling from the qiankun pouch. 

A very slight sound made you freeze mid-scramble, hands midair toward the fallen objects. Blinking up at Jiang Wanyin, you caught his lips dropping back into an overcompensating frown. 

Did he just smile? Was that a laugh you heard?! Why couldn’t he ever just laugh like a normal person while you were watching?!?!

“You legally can’t make fun of me, I’m still learning,” you blurted. 

“Hand-eye coordination development begins at age six,” he said without a breath wasted. There was a crinkle at the corner of his eyes. 

“And when’s the last time I magicked something out of a bag? Never! It’s within my right to drop it!” 

Your thumb and forefinger closed around the hilt of your sheathed knife, then released when you realized how stupid a move that would be. Instead, you fiddled with your snack pouch and threw a melon seed at him. It was such a pathetic sight, Jiang Wanyin didn’t even blink, letting the seed bounce off his shoulder and fly off to be subsumed by the earth or eaten by a bird the moment no humans were around. 

The man was distinctively unimpressed by this feat. And you’d do it again!

Unable to hold back your grin, you continued with the bag you’d just pulled from—full of snacking seeds and dried fruit. Unhooking it altogether, you asked, “Will food go bad if I put it in the qiankun pouch indefinitely?” 

“No, it won’t.” 

Satisfied, the snacks were dropped into the open bag. 

Then you heard Jiang Wanyin say, “It was a lot of extra time and money to weave a preservation spell into that thing, so do not fucking misplace it.” 

Pausing for a moment, you slowly finished inserting your emergency novel into the qiankun pouch and looked up at him with a big smile. Jiang Wanyin’s cheekbones were rosy, his ears red and his glare deeper than ever. So freaking cute!  

“I’m afraid this solidifies our friendship, Wanyin-xiong,” you sighed, pushing up to stand. “I’m going to come bother you a lot more now.” 

“I won’t drop everything to entertain you,” he threatened, but you saw the way he flustered every time you called his name. 

“I entertain myself every day,” you said merrily. “You’ve already asked me to stand quietly while you work once—I’m happy to do it when I’ve got a book or something.” 

It was said in jest; you didn’t really expect Jiang Wanyin to humor you. But he huffed, his next words not exactly a firm no. “Maybe if you cracked open a cultivation manual…” 

Oh. Oh no. He wasn’t going to like what happened if he encouraged you, unknowingly or not.

The scene blossomed clear as a portrait as it wrote itself in your head: 

“Cultivation manuals, hmm?” 

 

Sauntering up with a coy smile, you stepped a bit too close and relished that he didn’t move away. 

 

“Do you have anything on dual cultivation?” you asked innocently, stroking along his arm.

 

His cheeks flushed red like the flowers that framed him like a halo. “I—what? Why would you need that?!” he sputtered. 

 

“Oh, you know… research~” You leaned in, chest pressed to his side in an exchange of warmth. “I have a feeling I’ll want to really understand the process~” 

 

Jiang Wanyin’s throat bobbed, and you traced it with your eyes, tempted to place your fingers there instead. There was a small something in his eyes, buried beneath all that grit and grump. How you yearned to scoop it out with your nails and feed it back to him with your own tongue… 

 

Reaching up, you tested his receptiveness with a brush of your fingers below his ear. His breath caught, eyes half-lidded and trained on yours. 

 

You smiled. “Unless you’d like to teach me firsthand…” Fingertips across his cheek, lips a ghost on his jaw. “A-Cheng?”

… This one was too shameless to put on paper. You’d settle for repainting the scene in the walls of your mind before bed. 

“Put some manuals in front of my face and I’ll get right on it,” you said in lieu of embarrassing yourself. Actually, no—if he called your bluff and actually sent you home with any cultivation manuals, there was a significant chance you wouldn’t manage to finish them by your next meeting. This was simply a rescheduling of your embarrassment. 

A noncommittal hum was your only answer. And so, Jiang Wanyin continued to somewhat uselessly supervise you as you sat back down and played with the qiankun pouch.

Chapter Text

Wanting to mess with him a bit, you pretended to weigh the pouch in one hand against each subsequent item like a scale. Entertaining yourself was always such a simple thing. 

“Why don’t you sit too?” you suggested, letting the qiankun pouch suck up your medicine bag before patting the grass in front of you. 

He stayed in place for a moment. Then, to your surprise, he actually took you up on it. Jiang Wanyin lowered himself in the grass across from you, legs folded and back straight, his hands placed primly on his knees like he didn’t know any other way to sit. 

Delighted, you summoned your snack pouch and caught it this time, beaming as you offered him a piece of dried mango. He took it with no less hesitation, not commenting on the flavor as he ate it bite by tiny bite. 

“Wow, look at us,” you sighed dramatically, crunching on some assorted seeds and berries without any care for manners. “A real display of friendship. Miracles do happen.” 

Jiang Wanyin cut you an odd look. “What miracle?” 

Your cheeks were starting to ache from all this smiling. “I guess that you tolerate me at all.”

Despite just throwing words out for the fun of it, you watched Jiang Wanyin’s reaction closely. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but he just looked at you, lips sealed. 

A strange and ambiguous sensation arose in your heart. Choosing to ignore it, you looked down and finished off the transfer with the whistle your parents made you carry in case of emergency. While you did, his words bounced around in your head, knocking some of your brain cells into action. 

“How do I give someone else permission to use the qiankun pouch?” you asked, keeping your tone super casual. 

Jiang Wanyin replied, “It requires your will and previous contact with the other party’s spiritual energy.” 

“Does that mean normal people can’t access what’s in it, even with permission?”

He paused. “They’d have to physically reach inside and feel around. We don’t usually need to think about these things with non-cultivators,” he begrudged. 

“Hmmm. Does that mean I’m teaching you something, too?” you teased. 

For obvious reasons, he did not grace that with a response. 

Not to be deterred, you took a moment to will it into existence, then held out your qiankun pouch to Jiang Wanyin. He took it almost unconsciously, raising his eyebrows in a way that made you want to slap him around and give him a big smooch. 

“Humor me.” You folded your hands on your lap, unable to hold back your mischievous smile. “Take out my snacks?” 

Eyes shifting between the qiankun pouch and your face, the bag’s mouth opened and your snack pouch materialized in his opposite hand. 

Jiang Wanyin’s lips parted. Instead of a scoff in response to the corny gesture, you saw his eyes mist over, like he was remembering something. 

You watched him expectantly for a while, your smile gradually fading the longer the silence stretched. 

“Um,” you said awkwardly, “was that not okay?” 

Blinking a few times, Jiang Wanyin’s gaze refocused on you. “I don’t care,” he said, but his voice was hoarse. 

Ah, shit, had you accidentally touched a nerve you didn’t know was raw? How did you even apologize for something like that?

Feeling too awkward to address that weirdness, you chose to avoid things altogether. 

“Well, that’s all my questions, then,” you said breezily, making sure to touch his entire hand as you snagged your qiankun pouch from him. And you got away with it, at the low, low cost of making him think you’re sloppy! 

Standing up with about as much grace, you strained your arm to rub your knuckles along your back, stretching with an unladylike grunt. “That’s it for real this time, yeah? Not that I’d oppose hanging out some more, but, y’know. I should probably get home before my parents think I was kidnapped.” 

Jiang Wanyin scoffed, but he agreed and stood up with you. And thus, you made your way out of the beautiful gardens, a vibrant hue imbued into every shade as the moments you shared with him nestled, secure and giddy, into your heart. 

~ 

While you walked, you both were quiet. Catching sight of the glistening lake as you crested over a sloping hill, you remembered he mentioned picking lotus pods for the seeds, and you asked if they were ripe yet. His confirmation was curt, like you’d used up his conversation quota for the day, so you simply nodded and made a plan to ask him again next time you were here. (Buying them in the market was an option too, but that just wouldn’t be the same.) 

Turning your head to and fro, you enjoyed the lush scenery, paddling your qiankun pouch back and forth. It seemed to prod at Jiang Wanyin’s nerves, though he didn’t say anything; still behaving strange, for whatever reason.  

“Guniang,” he said out of the blue. 

You stopped tossing your bag, humming in acknowledgement. 

His eyes were on the spiritual item, a determined furrow in his brow despite not making eye contact. “Don’t go showing that off. It’s not some commodity that non-cultivators should be getting their hands on. And don’t tell anyone it’s from me,” he said decisively. 

Running your fingers along the silver lining, you glanced up at him with a small smile. Since he made the request, you would naturally oblige. But he wouldn’t get away with it that easy. 

“Why not?” you asked. 

He went red. “So—nobody will mistake this as a gesture of my favor, of course,” he sputtered. 

Your smile grew. Silly man—you’d absolutely be taking it as a gesture of his favor, yourself. 

“Alright then,” you agreed. “It’s perfectly normal for friends to give each other gifts, anyhow.” 

Not to mention the deep, regal purple he chose for the fabric. If he didn’t want anyone to know where you got the darn thing, then why did he make it in his sect colors? 

He took you all the way out to the gardens, and he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea!

Nevertheless, you obediently tied it to your belt, smoothing out your robe afterward, like nothing was ever there. 

Now to hold his hand instead! (Not really. It was the thought that counted.)

Some minor landmarks in the gardens became recognizable. A bush with a particularly sprightly leaf sticking up top. A pleasingly clashing pair of flower bushes side by side. The exit across the next row, increasingly visible over the low-cut plants, and with a bunch of disciples loitering like another miscellaneous bouquet. 

… Why were there so many people? 

Their voices had been audible for a minute or so, but you’d attributed the bustle to normal sect matters. Rather, it appeared there was a gathering just outside the gardens, with Xiao Yinhua smack in the middle of the entrance, their wispy ponytail barely containing the puff of their hair in this humidity. 

“Please don’t ask me again,” you heard them beg as you rounded the final corner, and Jiang Wanyin’s pace subtly increased. You dithered whether to exert the effort keeping up, and ultimately let him trail ahead of you. Either he knew what was going on, or he planned to disperse the tousle. 

The moment the group of disciples saw their sect leader, they fell quiet and stood at attention. Even from a distance, the energy was of tangible excitement. 

Also, all of them were craning their necks to stare at you. 

Finding yourself unexpectedly placed under scrutiny, your skin seemed to shrink away from these new prying eyes, mouth twisted in an awkward smile. Xiao Yinhua wiped the sweat collecting on their forehead and fuzzy upper lip, nearly slumping in relief for Jiang Wanyin’s appearance. 

“Jiang-zongzhu,” one of the men greeted eagerly, his deep voice calling attention to the massive build that accompanied it. The much more reasonably sized disciple in the center cupped his hands, and the group followed suit.

Coming to a stop before them, Jiang Wanyin mirrored their gesture. His expression wasn’t visible as you lingered behind him, but his voice almost sounded soft when he replied, “You’re back. I expect you’ve all returned in one piece.” 

They must’ve been off on a trip. Halting your steps a bit to the side to not interrupt, you appreciated Jiang Wanyin’s handsome side profile—ahem, observed the gentle tinge to his expression, then turned your attention toward the small crowd. It didn’t feel like your place to insert yourself. 

“We wanted to give our report right away, Zongzhu!” chimed another disciple, who sounded very much like she was lying. Strange. 

There were five disciples gathered, plus Xiao Yinhua, who looked ready to pass out as they stumbled to the side from their position in front of the garden entrance. A tall woman with a dumpling face stood at the back of the group, resting her elbow on a shorter woman’s shoulder as she looked you up and down with harmless curiosity. That shorter woman was the one with poor lying skills; her narrow eyes were exhausted but bright, and her hair was in a sloppy bun, which you wouldn’t have expected from a Yunmeng Jiang disciple, if only because of their sect leader’s standards. The other three disciples were men—each uniquely plain-looking, ponytail ponytail bun, tall short average, brown eyes hazel eyes black eyes. Every disciple’s hair was braided from the temple like Jiang Wanyin’s, save for the short woman’s. 

But the man in the center, with his hair in a bun, of average height, and eyes as dark as pits, was looking at you with a little something behind his gaze. Initially your attention had slid right past him, but when you realized what you saw, your blood chilled a few degrees. When you glanced at him again, your suspicions solidified. 

Hidden within the shadows of those eyes was an open wound. You didn’t know what caused it or why it seemed a natural part of him, but it made him watch you with a dullness like a sky with no moon. A lake reflecting that empty sky.

“You’re back,” Jiang Wanyin had said just now. Back from a mission? Did something happen to this guy? Was he okay?

In your distraction, you missed the disciples asking who you were. Suddenly Jiang Wanyin’s hand was on your shoulder, and every single other person there went wide-eyed. 

Including you. Especially you! 

In public, Jiang Wanyin?! 

“Uh,” you said with impeccable intellect, vaguely aware that he’d already introduced you by name and role. “Hi? Nice to meet you, I guess?” 

Kicking yourself internally, you tried to grasp for any intelligent thoughts when Jiang Wanyin finally let go of your shoulder. It was only a couple seconds, but that was all it needed to be. The people you were meeting seemed to share the same shocked brain cell as you, offering scattered greetings in return as they each recovered. Xiao Yinhua appeared comically surprised, their eyes round as bubbles about to pop; you trained your gaze on them for an extra moment, making a strained smile for commiseration. 

“How long ago did you say this deal went through?” one of the men asked. 

Your hands magnetized together inside your sleeves, hiding the nervous fidgets. “Like, a couple months, I think?” 

The man glanced between you and his sect leader. “Innnnteresting…” 

This whole interaction seemed to be grating on Xiao Yinhua’s nerves even worse than yours. A relatable child, this one was. “Hello?” they said shrilly, voice cracking. “Please don’t harass our business partners!” 

“Ah,” you hurried to assure the poor guy, “it’s not—”

“Guniang, they haven’t even introduced themselves!” 

You absorbed Xiao Yinhua’s distress over this small thing with stunned interest, then abjectly decided to oblige them. Turning to the group who were glancing amongst themselves like they were telepathically communicating, you gestured vaguely in the air. “You heard the kid. Sorry in advance if I don’t remember everything,” you added. “I’m not great with names.” 

A couple of the disciples laughed, a couple others becoming skeptical. The man who’d just spoken decided to take the lead after glancing around at his comrades. 

“I’m Tan Feitong, courtesy Jingyu,” he introduced, pointing both thumbs at himself. Second-shortest, hazel eyes, ponytail, thin mustache. He seemed more… buoyant than the others, at this particular moment. “And here we have…” 

Fa Qing, the tall lady with a round face. In the past minute, she’d swatted a fly off Tan Feitong and picked a hair off the other woman’s shoulder she was leaning on. She seemed like the casually touchy-feely type, her gaze open and attentive.

Gao Chen, even taller than Fa Qing. Despite his huge build, he had a gentle energy and plain features that suited him in a way that made him oddly unnoticeable. He was looking at you with earnest curiosity that kind of made you want to squish him (respectfully). 

Liang Xin, the shorter woman with the messy bun who seemed to bear half of Fa Qing’s weight like it was her personal burden, and she was happy to do it. She was practically fixated on you, not reacting to a single other thing—though the only other thing happening was, like, Fa Qing touching her a lot. You wondered if they were together, but you wouldn’t ask. 

And—Zhao Ran, the man with eyes like still water. While the others had waved or smiled when being introduced, Zhao Ran simply watched you in silent observation, his lips resting in a neutral slope. You weren’t sure if you wanted to speak with him the most or the least out of this collection of disciples. Something told you he didn’t think positively of you for reasons outside your control. 

But you wouldn’t judge. You didn’t know any of these people. 

“It’s nice to meet everyone,” you said politely, folding your hands and offering a small bow. Gao Chen and Liang Xin reciprocated the gesture and some lighthearted words without a second thought, Fa Qing and Tan Feitong gave friendly smiles, and Zhao Ran simply inclined his head, gaze unwavering. 

Wow, this was already overwhelming. Their names hadn’t fully imprinted into your memory banks yet, the quick introductions doing about as much good as drawing the characters a bit too hastily in an expanse of sand; you had to stare at each of their faces for a second too long to keep just their surnames from washing away.

“I,” you started, floundering for an excuse to leave before you had the chance to make a fool of yourself, but Liang Xin spoke at the same time. 

“May we perhaps have a chat with this guniang—” 

She was interrupted with a grunt when Gao Chen elbowed her, his almond eyes going round and almost frantic. At the same time, Fa Qing calmly placed her hand over Liang Xin’s mouth, leaving the shorter woman to blink owlishly. Tan Feitong hurried to cover up the awkward moment, his hands spread as if to placate you in advance.

“Please pardon our disorganization, Miss—we were out on a mission until just now, you see.” 

A glance at each of them saw some disheveled patches of their outfits, and heavily dirt-stained shoes. Sometimes you forgot to be observant. 

Tan Feitong continued, “We’d like to meet you more properly, if you’ll be visiting the sect often. Since we weren’t here to welcome you initially, may we invite this guniang for a later date?” 

If he thought his glance at the sect leader was subtle, he was sorely mistaken. When you glanced as well (but without subtlety or shame), Jiang Wanyin was glaring at his disciple with about as much irritation as a cat who’d witnessed a human committing the grave offense of walking in its line of sight. That was to say, it was a gamble whether he’d let this play out, or everyone would get scratched to ribbons. 

“There’s really no need,” you said, treading cautiously. “I’m not some esteemed guest.” 

The words rested in the air for a moment; you watched the disciples absorb them, some disappointed, some understanding. Zhao Ran blank. Jiang Wanyin unreadable. 

Slowly, you allowed a smile to curl your lips. “… But if you’re offering…” You looked at Jiang Wanyin and shed the mask concealing your glee. “Who am I to decline?~” 

Jiang Wanyin didn't look mad, but rather resigned. “That’s your responsibility if you invite someone from outside the sect,” he intoned. “I have nothing to do with it.” 

You shrugged. As the outsider in question, it wasn’t your business what you were invited to. 

Now, you fell several rungs down the ladder of priority. “I sent out six of you, and I only see five,” Jiang Wanyin barked, making his group straighten up on reflex. “You’d better have brought my head disciple back with you, or you won’t last long enough to even make it to your next dinner!” 

“Eh, you know Fang-jie,” Fa Qing sighed as she slumped back onto Liang Xin and scratched herself in a socially unacceptable location. “She’s off handling the return protocols. Maybe you’ll catch her before she goes to her room for hibernation.” 

“She didn’t spend eight months on a mission just to come back and avoid her own sect leader,” Jiang Wanyin said darkly. 

You blinked. Shit, these guys had been out for the better part of a year. That was definitely your cue to fuck off. 

“So…” you tried, resisting the urge to cower when seven sets of eyes turned to you. “I’ll leave you to your reunion?” The ride home would carry you to dinnertime, and after the day you just had, you needed to cope as soon as physically possible. Maybe you could bribe Xiaolin into booking you a massage. 

Fortunately, the group went easy on you, all friendly goodbyes and wishes for safe travels. You waved vaguely at them, scanning them once more to try and at least remember one name per person. Again an odd collection of bubbles roiled in your chest when you met eyes with Zhao Ran, but you did your best not to let your expression change. 

Bowing your head to Jiang Wanyin, you absorbed his carefully constructed expression and said, “Thank you for your hospitality once more.” 

His name tipped to the end of your tongue. Would he want you to call him more familiarly in front of his disciples? Would he hate it?

The moment passed. You faintly and silently smiled at him, feeling drained yet at the same time livened, knowing your relationship with him had become secure today. 

Friends. Truly. 

Gaze lingering on yours, Jiang Wanyin lifted his chin in signal. “Xiao Yinhua,” he commanded. “Escort her to the gate. And send Fang Xianshi here. That’s a threat.” 

“Yes, Zongzhu!” 

Hurrying up to you, Xiao Yinhua bobbed their upper half in an odd partial bow before starting perpendicular to the garden’s border. You nearly tripped on your hem to catch up, perplexed why they were in such a rush to leave the others’ line of sight. At least they paused to let you close the gap before they disappeared; there was no way you were going to exercise for no reason. And in this heat! A golden core did not grant immunity to sweat! 

Glancing over your shoulder as you turned the corner, you caught sight of the group of disciples crowding around Jiang Wanyin. It was as you watched them poke and prod at their rapidly softening sect leader that you realized you really didn’t know much about Yunmeng Jiang at all. You’d met only a handful of the people who lived here and followed Jiang Wanyin—five or six out of hundreds, if not more. You didn’t know how big Lotus Pier was, in area nor population. Hell, you were only just starting to know Jiang Wanyin. 

You just knew everyone’s hearts were in the right place.

Chapter Text

“Xiao-Hua,” you called mid-travel, enjoying Xiao Yinhua’s nervous glance at you—all puppydog eyes with no reprimand to warrant them. “How did you join Yunmeng Jiang?” 

“Oh!” Xiao Yinhua fumbled for a moment. The question, stemming from your current ruminations about the sect, took them off guard. “Um, well, it was about… three years ago. Unofficially? I grew up in an orphanage about a shichen north from here—um, by walking, not by sword…” 

Instant flag raised. Guang Mao had mentioned offhand that Jiang Wanyin sponsored orphanages, maybe. 

“And there was this gang. They basically ran my town, so it was really hard to hold on to supplies. Jiang-zongzhu was passing by one day when I was, um, the thugs were… well, I was out at the market, and the gang liked to corner people, but I didn’t follow the buddy system that day, and we needed groceries, so…”

Picking through their ramblings, you understood fine. “Jiang Wanyin saved you from getting beat up?” you guessed. 

Xiao Yinhua’s head jerked to stare at you, making you realize you’d used their sect leader’s name instead of his title. Oops. 

“He did,” they confirmed. 

The answer came with something like relief for not having to say it themself, but their expression held a hint of shame, like it was their fault for being an easy target. Scanning their body, you could imagine the Xiao Yinhua of age fifteen or sixteen, smaller and skinnier, yet to build the spare muscle peeking out from under their collar and rolled-up sleeves. Maybe with worse posture, afflicted by the common teenage anxiety of being seen and judged—worse for someone like them, a visible blend of both masculine and feminine. You should give them some reading recs sometime. 

“I-I mean…” Xiao Yinhua’s tongue kept tripping. “He got there when I was, um, on the ground already, but, yes, he saved me. And he yelled at me for not fighting back, but he still—”

Their words faltered, covering their mouth with their hand. With a start, you realized Xiao Yinhua was tearing up. “Hey, uh—”

“I’m fine,” they said with surprising force, pushing up their glasses to scrub at their eyes. “Jiang… Jiang-zongzhu asked me if any of the food got crushed, and he went back to the market with me. And—and got even more supplies than we needed.” 

Something told you, considering both of their dispositions, that Jiang Wanyin had actually dragged Xiao Yinhua back to the market for those supplies, with the teen protesting that he needn’t go out of his way for them. What you wouldn’t give to take a peek inside Xiao Yinhua’s brain and view that memory firsthand.

“So,” they continued, slowing down in their distraction and reminiscence, “I told him we—the orphanage couldn’t pay him back, and he said… I could work in the sect and he’d take care of it. And, uhm, he let me start cultivating, and now I’m… I’m trying to be a good attendant!” 

They grew louder, their hoarse, reedy voice strengthening with each word. It gave you the impression of a stage actor steeling themself during a monologue, remembering their own determination. 

“J-just meeting Jiang-zongzhu changed my life… I had… I really had nothing back then, I couldn’t even think about what I was gonna do when I aged out of the orphanage… and I want to repay him for everything. Even if I still don’t know what I’m doing, I’m trying… I’m sorry…” Xiao Yinhua trailed off, too choked up to speak and realizing they’d babbled to near incoherence.

You patted Xiao Yinhua awkwardly as they collected themself, their lanky body shuddering as if to expel the urge to cry. It felt a little strange that the memory made them so emotional, but it wasn’t like you would ever know the full story. Maybe Xiao Yinhua was just the glass-hearted type. 

“Ah… that was incredibly kind of him,” you said with a vague air of encouragement. “But, I’m sure he saw good qualities in you, and he didn’t just employ you for random labor.” It sounded to you like Jiang Wanyin had plucked this kid off the street for a specific reason, whatever that reason might’ve been. They probably had a valuable skill you weren’t privy to, if Jiang Wanyin had gone as far as making them his attendant. 

“Oh,” they said tearfully, “yes, of course. He said I have good potential for cultivation, even though I’d never cultivated before. I’m still working on forming a golden core, but Jiang-zongzhu says I’m on the right track.” 

During a small pause, your inhibitions tried to lift themselves off the floor and flopped right back down. Fuck it, you wanted someone to understand! 

“Ahhh, you’ve gotta stop making me like that man or I’m gonna propose to him,” you lamented. 

When they managed to make sense of that, Xiao Yinhua squeaked. “You—huh? Didn’t Jiang-zongzhu—?” 

Halting your snailish pace altogether, you slowly turned your head. “Didn’t he what?” 

“Um.” 

“Xiao-Hua.” 

“He—” Xiao Yinhua gulped. “He gave you the, um. Gift, right?” 

Mutely, you flashed your new qiankun pouch. 

“Okay,” Xiao Yinhua mumbled, searching for words. “So Jiang-zongzhu did that… just because.” 

If your heart was a stack of marbles, you were presently fishing each of them from the bottom of a fountain. “Did you think it was a courting gift?” 

They offered a wobbly smile. 

You sighed. If it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination among his own staff, you were definitely screwed. “Can you keep a secret, Xiao Yinhua?” 

After their vigorous nod, you looked down, playing with the sway of the qiankun pouch connected to your hip. The pair of you resumed walking, Xiao Yinhua’s gait unconsciously lagging in anticipation, and you nudged them with the tip of your finger. 

“I wouldn’t mind if it was,” you confessed, and didn’t watch as Xiao Yinhua reacted. It would only damn you further. “But I only want that if Wanyin does too. And at this point, I don’t think that’s the case. He doesn’t seem like the type to like someone that quickly, let alone fall for them.” 

Closing your eyes in a strained smile, you turned your head to Xiao Yinhua. “I can barely tell what he’s thinking, anyway. If he’s said anything about me to you, don’t tell me. It’s not my business.”

“I would never!” Xiao Yinhua said fervently. You blinked at them, seeing that their cheeks were red as apples. “I wouldn’t give away Jiang-zongzhu’s secrets! I won’t tell him what you said either, I promise!” 

Softening like a stick of butter in the sun, you patted the teen’s frizzy hair, smoothing down the crinkled wisps but perhaps making things worse. “I know, bud. I’m just saying.”

After a moment of reflection, you added, “Also, it’s a little nuts that you assumed your zongzhu is capable of marrying someone he’s known for three months. I’m gonna take it as a compliment, though.” 

After all, if such a match was wishful thinking on Xiao Yinhua’s part, then that meant they’d be happy to have you as their sect leader’s spouse. Having someone’s approval was new, but nice.

Resuming the journey to Lotus Pier’s exit, the pair of you fell into pensive silence. You wondered how good of an idea it was to share that bit of yearning with Xiao Yinhua, but in the end, you didn’t mind telling Jiang Wanyin the truth if he confronted you about it. After all, you hadn’t lied to him; you did want to be his friend. Just… a bit more, after that. 

At certain points, you managed to catalogue some more landmarks so you would get slightly less lost next time you visited the sect. Time would tell if this green-tiled bird fountain and that boarded-up shed would remain in your long-term memory. 

“Fang-jie!” Xiao Yinhua shouted, accidentally making you yelp in surprise. They shot you an apologetic look, but quickly changed direction in pursuit of a lady who’d been walking briskly across the way, and was now looking at the attendant with her full attention. Xiao Yinhua hopped down from the deck you were traversing and crossed a patch of grass to reach her. 

Even though this would bring you the same direction you’d come, you had little choice but to follow if you wanted a navigator. No rush. 

Fang-jie didn’t stop, but altered her pace enough to hold a conversation with Xiao Yinhua as they fell into step. “Yinhua,” she greeted. Her voice was medium and pleasant, strong behind the throat. “Is there news?” 

“Oh, no, I just—Jiang-zongzhu would like to see you. Just to say hi now that you’re back,” Xiao Yinhua said nervously. “Also, this is the business partner Mao-jie mentioned. Uh, guniang, this is Fang Xianshi, our head disciple.” 

Oh… ohhhhhhh, that Fang-jie. 

Welp. You needed this woman’s approval or you might die. How had her name slipped your mind already? The friendship you’d just formed with Jiang Wanyin was a shish kebab if his head disciple didn’t like you. 

“Fang Lin,” the person in question added as she bowed to you at a slim angle. Did she prefer to be called that? Alright then. You could think about the implications later, memory permitting. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said politely, returning her bow as you gave your name and importance. “I heard some of you just came back from a long mission. Things go well?” 

“Mn.” Fang Lin’s droopy brown eyes traveled your figure, just once, like a cloth towel over a smudge of dirt. “We traveled quite extensively. Some diplomacy, some fighting. The problem was a pair of demons. Everything’s taken care of now.” 

The abbreviated report was curt but succinct, getting across just enough information that you both understood the mission perfectly and had no clue what they actually did. Considering it wasn’t your business in the first place, you quickly gleaned that Fang Lin was an excellent diplomat. (Perhaps to compensate for her sect leader’s sour tongue.) 

“That’s good to hear,” you offered. “Good job. Not that I know anything else, hah.” 

In the split-second pause after your speech, Xiao Yinhua’s expression flashed with terror. 

“Guniang, I’m so sorry, I got sidetracked!” they blurted, spindly hands pushing at your back to usher you along. “Fang-jie, Zongzhu is in front of the gardens with the others! I’ll tell you what Mao-jie wants to do with the bounty when she’s done counting! Bye!” 

All that flew over your head, but you didn’t mind. “Nice meeting you,” you said vaguely as you were steered in the right direction. You couldn’t be sure if Fang Lin heard, but it was whatever. 

Finally back on track, you resumed walking with Xiao Yinhua. 

“You call her Mao-jie?” you commented idly after a few seconds. One more for the road. 

“Ah…” Xiao Yinhua ducked their head, as if it was something to be embarrassed by. But you thought it was cute! “She insisted.” 

In other words, Guang Mao bullied the poor kid into it. Not surprising. 

The gate appeared beyond the next corner, a graceful and imposing arch separating the sect from the civilians it protects. People continued to flit in and out as always, and you paused with Xiao Yinhua off to the side, briefly touching the handsomely constructed wall just to feel its solid texture. 

“Thanking Yunmeng Jiang for its hospitality once more,” you said with a fold of your hands. “I’ll be back.” 

For some reason, Xiao Yinhua fidgeted before returning your bow; apparently your easy smile and chill attitude weren’t enough to deter their mysterious anxiety. “Yes, Miss. Thank you for your business. I mean, uh… thank you for…” 

“No need,” you interrupted, putting them out of their misery. “I understand. Hey,” you patted them lightly on the shoulder, “let’s skip all these extraneous niceties from now on, okay? I won’t tell Jiang-zongzhu if you won’t.” 

Blinking with those big, confused eyes, Xiao Yinhua mumbled, “O… okay, Miss…” 

Satisfied, you gave them another pat and swept toward the exit. 

Half a moment from stepping out of Lotus Pier, you faltered, your memory kicking into existence. 

When you visited Cloud Recesses in a month or so, Wei Wuxian was going to teach you about talismans and the like—and that was supposed to relate to your work here, at Yunmeng Jiang. If those lessons sparked any genuine ideas, you might be expected to propose them as adjustments to the commissions Yunmeng Jiang had already placed. 

Ultimately, you knew it was a hurdle for later-you, when you had some knowledge from the inventor Wei Wuxian himself. That needed to be on the game plan for when you visited Cloud Recesses for the first time. 

It was fine. 

Ignoring your vague and unimportant worries, you departed for home. 

~

To your surprise, it was almost troublesome not to take out your qiankun pouch and brag about it to anyone who would listen. Though, presently that only consisted of those who worked on your family’s property. 

Just to get it out of your system, you waved Xiaolin into your crafts room that night, unable to subdue your grin. 

“Look.” You unstrung the pouch from your belt and placed it on the desk. 

Xiaolin leaned down to look at it curiously, picking at her short nails with soft, barely audible clicks. “That’s such a pretty color,” she said in wonder. 

“Right?” 

“Did you buy it at the market today? Is that why you returned later than expected?” 

“Better…” 

Opening your hand, you summoned a cool rock you’d picked up off the ground earlier, beaming as Xiaolin gasped excitably. 

“It was a gift,” you boasted. Then added in a whisper, grin so wide it could split your cheeks, “From Jiang Wanyin.” 

Xiaolin’s toasty brown eyes went round. “From the sect leader?!” 

Bless her, she matched your volume. It wouldn’t be great if you instigated rumors among the other servants the second you got home. 

“Mmmmmhm.~” Placing the shimmery rock on your collection table, you strung your fingers through the qiankun pouch’s drawstrings and dangled it by your side. “Don’t tell anyone, if you please.” 

Being accustomed to your bullshit over the years, Xiaolin nodded emphatically, and you were safe to trust her. 

She was the closest thing you had to a sibling, as her parents had been serving your family for years before either of you were born. Xiaolin had been raised to be a servant as well, and began chores for your twenty-year-old self at the tender age of nine. (This, in complete spite of your parents’ wishes, did not guilt you into doing those chores yourself.) However, most everyone acted permissive with her, despite her status. She was just so cute! And she picked things up quickly, remaining earnest and a little airheaded through it all. 

While your relationship with her was rather indulgent, you were well aware of the inherent power dynamic looming overhead. Even so, you liked to think she stayed as a servant because she liked it here, not just because of the financial security. Sure, she did every single one of your chores for you, but you were fun to be around!

Once Xiaolin left, her cheeks glowing from the obvious implications of your gift from the Jiang sect leader, you surveyed your room. The day had depleted your energy, but not so much that you couldn’t waste a little more time before bed. 

Fingers running along the bumpy ridge of your work desk, your eyes found a certain something that finally drew you nearer. 

You picked up the fan-building manual with a delicate grip, thumbing at an old crease in the page. One of your many excuses to procrastinate making one was that you simply hadn’t had the space before, all the notches on your belt occupied with more important things. 

But now…

You flipped to the first page. Wood slats, nails, glue, fabric. There was no need to try painting it on your first try. 

Placing it down using a stray crystal as a paperweight, you set off in search of a good pattern among your fabric scraps.

Chapter Text

After several days of wallowing in dazed joy and social exhaustion, you woke up just after the sun hit its peak and had to wonder if your sleep cycle was about to get horribly fucked. 

You ambled off to lunch in a barely decent state, and while you were stuffing your face, Xiaolin delivered two letters that had arrived overnight. This reminded you of the letters from Cloud Recesses that you‘d abandoned in your panic to prepare for your visit to Lotus Pier. After you finished eating, you quickly scanned the letters again and scribbled out a response to Lan Xichen and Wei Wuxian each. Neither letter was very formal, as your correspondence had devolved into a friendly exchange of pleasantries mixed with them dropping depressing facts about their early lives. Lan Xichen was oddly like Wei Wuxian in that way, writing to you as though it was natural to take his personal tragedies in stride and trudge through life with those burdens. 

It’s been a challenge to reclaim my responsibilities as sect leader from my shufu, Lan Xichen wrote. I understand his reservations in returning my duties in full, but I wish he understood that I don’t want to burden him more than I already have. My seclusion was helpful, but it has long since ended.

He mentioned his seclusion so often that you wondered if he subconsciously yearned for it. Also, he spoke much and highly of Lan Qiren, and you were simultaneously afraid to meet the man and assuaged that he wasn't as much of an unrelenting hardass as the rumors (and Wei Wuxian) made him out to be. 

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian wrote things like, Lan Zhan bought a whole set of new brushes for the juniors today just because Jingyi broke Sizhui's spare, can you believe him?! and Jiang Cheng used to smuggle chili sauce for me when we were studying in Cloud Recesses. Now Lan Zhan makes secret meals for me when the Lan elders try to starve me out with their bleeeeh dinners! Makes me feel so nostalgic~

You heard quite a lot about two Lan juniors in particular, and it was a bit funny how blatantly Wei Wuxian played favorites. Did he do that to their faces too? He seemed like the type. But he also seemed genuinely passionate about teaching, so maybe he tried to treat all the Sizhuis-and-Jingyis and non-Sizhuis-and-Jingyis equally?

The date of your visit was coming up, but not soon enough. Feeling somehow both exhausted and restless, you tucked away those two replies together and moved to the next. 

Of the letters that had arrived today, one was from Songbird. That activated your fight or flight response right quick. 

Not wanting to face the humiliation of your sappy feelings being perceived, you shuffled it behind your other piece of mail and paused. 

This letter was from your friend Cao Ling. She lived second-closest to you out of your main group of friends from childhood—that was to say, she lived near the capital. And she was always your best bet at ever seeing your other friends, short of waltzing right into their home or place of work. 

Snapping open the wax seal, you read through the letter with anticipation. Cao Ling’s thirtieth birthday was in a couple weeks, and she wanted to have a get-together sometime after. Considering the vastness of her extended family, you figured it’d be about another week or two before they gave her enough space to have her own party. That’d be good for wrangling everyone else into the same city, and being the daughter of an imperial doctor and a well-liked scholar, it was a very good excuse to drop everything and take a little vacation to celebrate her birthday—anyone would know it was a social slight to decline! 

Of course, you wrote back immediately without needing to narrow down your availability in the slightest. Being of no use to society had its perks—you were always free! 

It would take about a week for Cao Ling to find a reasonable overlap of everyone’s schedules and send out the decisive date, but that was none of your concern. 

Aside from a nice, proper get-together being a good opportunity to complain about your parents making you do business, you could finally yap about Jiang Wanyin! And even by name, perhaps! You would be setting yourself up to be bullied for the next thirteen years, but if you had to keep your feelings inside for much longer, you might end up splattered all over your bedroom walls like red bean paste. 

Speaking of feelings…

With bated breath, you opened the letter from Songbird. 

To my favorite and most needlessly insecure writer, 

 

First of all, I’m deeply offended that you’d even suggest destroying the steamiest, silliest, most inspired material I’ve read in months. You can’t possibly send me so much material oozing with romance and expect me to take it lying down. The only reason I’m not selling this is because it’s so personal to you, even if it would rake in the cash beyond our wildest dreams. I’ll take your word that none of this actually happened, but oh my goodness, I wish it did! (On your behalf, of course~)

 

I’m gonna need a name, Curiosity. Who was he, and is he good enough for you? Actually, don’t answer that last part—I must perform my own research for peak objectivity. Also, could you paint his likeness so I can know who to curse if he breaks your heart? A strand of hair will be helpful as well. Pluck one off his shirt if you must. 

 

In other news, I’m forced to travel in a few weeks, and NOT for pleasure, so it would be much appreciated if you sent that other draft you were working on. I may shrivel up if I have to endure my duties without knowing if Q recovers from his injuries in time to intercept W. (I know you refuse to allow your couples to stay apart for too long, but my anticipation still stands!!)

 

Once again, in all earnestness, please tell me more about your new flame or I will pour salt in your tea upon our next meeting.

 

Wishing for your everlasting romantic fulfillment (and the willingness to confront your own feelings),

Songbird

Face aflame, you pondered ripping up the letter and sending the pieces back to him pasted into a ransom note-esque threat. Songbird was a treasured friend, so you wouldn’t, but the temptation was there. 

As if you’d tell him who Jiang Wanyin was! You did have some faith in your semi-anonymous friend not to be unreasonable, but with the knowledge that a ton of women had blacklisted Jiang Wanyin from their dating pool, you didn’t want to have to justify yourself to Songbird. Not even the update of his thoughtful and expensive gift-giving would suffice. Maybe someday if you had actual prospects with Jiang Wanyin… ah, but if you eventually did marry him, you would certainly invite Songbird to the wedding… 

No! That was getting leagues ahead of yourself! 

Brandishing your brush, you touched down on the page and didn’t get past the first greeting before giving up. 

Two days of building courage saw your letter off to Songbird. All he got was some begging to let the topic be, and he was gonna freaking like it! Though, you did attach that draft he mentioned—a chapter with your characters W and Q, who were mutually very dramatic and individually very stupid. They were Songbird’s favorites from your roster of original characters, but they gave you so much trouble at times that you spent upward of a year dallying between chapters. (This begot frustrated smut pieces about W and Q, which pacified Songbird enough to not reinforce deadlines for the main story.)

In the meantime, you played with your qiankun pouch, which was not a toy. A few more questions popped up with little way of testing them yourself, to the point where you pondered sending a letter to Jiang Wanyin for the hell of it. But he’d only be expecting business-related correspondence from you, so you needed a better excuse than that. 

It didn’t take much to come up with a solution. One day you asked your parents how to check on the products, and the next, they supplied a sheet of each product’s status without making you exert any effort at all. Permissive parents for the win! 

So, you shot off a letter to Jiang Wanyin (not to Yunmeng Jiang!) with a casual update on the products and the intent to bother him about the qiankun pouch. 

The letter you received back the next day: 

Guniang,

 

Thank you for the updates. Considerate, but unnecessary going forward. 

 

Your qiankun pouch will not accept more items than it can hold. It won’t spit things back out if you try to overshoot its limit. 

(You preened that he called it your qiankun pouch. Also, you already knew this, because you’d tested it.)

Additionally, there are protection spells that won’t let it soil or tear due to natural means. For example, it can’t be stabbed with a normal knife, but a spiritual sword could destroy it if the sword’s qi is strong enough. As long as you use it to store normal items, I doubt you’ll have anything to worry about.

Damn, you could sense his judgmental glare from all the way over here. He really was thinking about you!~ 

Unbound qiankun pouches use spells instead of a cultivator’s qi to expand its space. This means anyone can use them, but the tradeoff is that they’re weaker. If you listened to me or actually tried doing any research, you’d know there are multiple types of qiankun pouches.

 

Like I mentioned, you should not use yours to restrain spirits. It takes just one malevolent soul to shred my spirit artisan’s hard work to tatters. Do not let anything happen to it or you’re never getting anything from me again.  

Smiling so wide your cheeks might tear, you wondered if he understood that he’d implied he wanted to give you more things. The gift horse’s mouth was open, but you would not be staring past its teeth! 

With utmost respect,

Jiang Wanyin

Just like that, you understood the maidenly urge to clutch the page to your chest and sigh like it held the very breath of your beloved. The implications behind every word left you pleased and wanting, a bit pathetic but delightfully so. Even a short letter from Jiang Wanyin filled your heart like a good bowl of soup! 

Naturally, you wrote back with even more bullshitted questions about qiankun pouches, just to test his patience. 

~

Two days later, you received a package with a simple letter pasted on top. 

Study.

Wrapped in hardy brown paper was a stack of cultivation manuals specializing in spiritual tools. 

You laughed so hard Xiaolin came running, the poor girl hovering in a fluster until you showed her the letter. Even if she was too polite to admit it, you heard her giggle when she saw how large and aggressive the characters were. 

Though you didn’t reply right away, you cracked open the manual on top and trusted that another topic with which to bother Jiang Wanyin would come with time.

Chapter Text

Jinlintai was a city through and through. 

The closer your carriage got to Lanling’s cultivation capital, each peek through the window displayed a marvelous exertion of money—golden terraces, pearlesque statues at every street corner, mouthwatering scents from dozens of restaurants occupying each block of opulent buildings. Lavishness for the sake of it. 

Tapping your fingers on your thigh, you returned your attention to the bun in your hand and could barely listen to a word your parents were saying. 

Boredom had brought you on this excursion with them. Between waiting for Yunmeng Jiang’s commissions to finish production and your friend’s birthday in several weeks, there was a sense of anticipation that couldn’t be sated by your usual lazy schedule. Not to mention you’d set your first lesson with Wei Wuxian so far out—why did you do that to yourself?! You weren’t going to study for that trip! You were already emotionally prepared! Curse your attempt at foresight!

So, with a certain dog and its owner on your mind, you’d asked your parents if they were going to Lanling anytime soon. 

“Next week,” your mother had answered. Of course it was so soon; Lanling was your biggest gold supplier, after all. “Why?”

“Hmmn. I might wanna tag along this time.” 

She turned to regard you—not stare, no no, she was much too distinguished. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you groused. “I run things around here sometimes. What’s so strange that I want an excuse to travel?” 

“The fact that you usually don’t need an excuse.”

Well, she had you there. “I don’t want to just show up at Jinlintai unannounced.”

Your mother squinted at you. The pressure was too much after about four seconds. 

“You know how I met Sect Leader Jin that one time…”

Yeah, that conversation was a fun one. Telling your mother back then about that chance encounter with Jiang Wanyin certainly instigated her pushing you headfirst into business with him. 

“Anyway,” you continued after explaining, “since you visit the sects sometimes, are you going to Qinghe Nie again?”

Despite visiting earlier this year, your mother answered in the negative. “What do you remember of Qinghe’s architecture?” 

Planting your forehead on the table, you grumbled a bit at the attempted teaching moment. “It’s more, uh, sturdy.” 

“Emphasis on function and structure,” she agreed. “Your father and I were surprised to even receive a letter from Qinghe Nie this year. As it turns out, the sect leader had heard we found an ore deposit and wanted to take some off our hands. Really, they didn’t even need our services—though we offered. Of course we did! I’d say we’ll get another request next decade.”

That was certainly not an exaggeration. To think, if you were more responsible, you would be in charge of the family business by the next time Qinghe Nie bothered with your family, ha ha…

“Wow,” you remarked. Guess you wouldn’t have a similar excuse to go visit Songbird in his own region. The next visit would have to be for business, per usual. Ah, but he mentioned he was traveling around now—it was for the best. Despite complaining about it, he was a very busy guy. 

“You know,” your mother said, “you could go to Qinghe Nie yourself.” 

“No, no, no,” you waved her off. “I don’t have a real excuse. The main family’s not gonna accept an audience with some random outsider.” 

You ignored your mother’s flat look. Obviously you weren’t technically some rando, but functionally, you had nothing to offer. Not even social skills! Besides, it was not worth the energy corresponding with a sect, especially if you tried to bribe your way in. Fuck Qinghe actually, you didn’t need to go there! (With respect to your friends who lived in the area.)

She prodded, “Why did you ask, then?”

Feeling unreasonably targeted, you glanced around shiftily but opted to tell the short truth. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve been compared to a Nie a couple of times, so I was just curious.” 

“Oh my.” She covered her mouth with her sleeve. “Compliments on my child’s strength and tenacity?”

“Noooooooo,” you fake-wailed. “It was just to one guy. Why are you so optimistic?!” 

“It gets me out of bed in the morning,” your mother said sagely. “So, you won’t go to Qinghe Nie on your own. What if we send you to plead for our business?”

“I don’t want to meet the guy that badly! I don’t even remember his name,” you grouched. “Stop trying to solve my problems. What problems do I even have?!” 

The conversation after that essentially went nowhere. 

So, here you were, hiding behind your parents to get you into Lanling with as little social contact as possible. 

Trailing after them as you all followed the escort through Jinlintai, you glanced around the gilded halls for any sign of Fairy. The dog would probably be more noticeable than its human sect leader. But you didn’t see any sign of a wayward husky. 

When you sat down with Lanling Jin’s treasurer in a conference room six times the size of the one at Lotus Pier, your parents introduced you as their daughter who would be observing the meeting. Politeness at the forefront, you bowed as if you had the faintest clue what the fuck they were even going to talk about. The treasurer looked like he wanted nothing less than for some deadbeat heir to sit in and listen to this highly sensitive information for no reason, but for the sake of pleasing your high-status parents, the man accepted your presence with a super fake smile. 

He had nothing to worry about. You fully intended to forget every bit of information you overheard during this meeting. 

Regardless of trying to zone out, there were some interesting points you learned. For example, the elders around here loved wasting resources and sect funds redecorating their quarters every season, no repeats, which meant your family made bank crafting every item for their seasonal overhaul. Ultimately it was a shichen of your life you would never get back. 

The meeting concluded, and the treasurer invited your family to dinner before retiring to the Jinlintai guest rooms. Once your parents naturally accepted, you took the opportunity to raise your hand for the Lanling Jin officer’s attention. 

“Is the sect leader around today?” you asked casually. 

Everyone seemed to pause. Your parents were aware of your desire to bother Jin Ling and his spirit dog, but you didn’t bother glancing at them to see their exasperated expressions as they realized you weren’t bluffing. At your grown age, anyone who knew and therefore respected your parents were happy to pin your actions on you, rather than their parenting. Autonomy rocked! 

“I—beg your pardon, Miss?” the treasurer said, aghast. 

It took incredible effort not to smirk. “Is Jin-zongzhu here? I’d like to talk to him.” 

The man’s eye twitched. “He is, but I guarantee Jin Rulan is incredibly busy with quarterly paperwork and such. He isn’t taking visitors.” 

Your responding long, drawn-out sigh probably activated your parents’ fight or flight reflexes. “Will he be at dinner, at least? Oh, if you tell him there’s a guniang who has something to relay from Jiang-zongzhu, I’m sure he’ll give me a few minutes of his time.” 

The treasurer nearly gasped. “Is that true?!” He remembered himself after a second, clearing his throat sourly. “We would have preferred if Jiang-zongzhu used the usual sect channels to communicate a message, but if it’s really that important…”

You smiled mysteriously, neither confirming or denying. “If someone would be so kind as to lead me to Jin-zongzhu’s office, that would be appreciated.” 

He looked to your parents with thinly veiled suspicion. Upon seeing that they had no intentions of reprimanding you, the treasurer assumed you must be speaking the truth. (They were simply accustomed to your antics, but he didn’t need to know that.) 

“Of course, Miss.” Clapping his hands, the Jin treasurer summoned a servant who bowed politely, her painted lips curved in a demure smile. “Take this young lady to Jin-zongzhu’s office, and then escort her to the dining hall once she’s delivered her message.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

After a brief see-you-later to your parents, you followed the servant into the grand halls of Carp Tower.

Glancing around at the magnificent inscriptions inlaid in the golden walls, you let your mind wander. This was the downfall of your sense of direction; you didn’t even try to remember which turns you’d taken along the way. 

“Hey,” you addressed the servant girl. 

She turned her head with a polite smile, her gait slowing. The titty window in her ornate outfit put a bad taste in your mouth, but on her behalf—she barely looked older than Jin Ling himself, and you doubted he was the type to enjoy such “indulgences.” 

“Do you know if Jin-zongzhu is in a good mood today?” you asked.

The girl’s face remained placid, not showing even a hint of confusion. “I don’t know, Miss. He’s taken his meals in his office of late, but I don’t serve Jin-zongzhu directly.” 

That could mean a number of things, so you took the useless information and decided to wing it as planned. 

She led you to a more unassuming door than you expected. Just before knocking, you caught a hitch in the otherwise seamless motion. Was she nervous, or were you seeing things? 

Three knocks. Behind the door came a muffled “What?!” 

Ah, you already wanted to tease him even worse than you wanted to tease his uncle. 

“Sir,” greeted the servant, projecting her sweet voice through the door. “There’s a Miss who has a message from Jiang-zongzhu.” 

A quiet thump and mumbled curse from within the office made you feel horribly fond for the young man you’d met one singular time. Waiting patiently, you listened to the hurried footsteps and delicately placed a smug smile on your lips for when the door snapped open. 

Jin Ling’s appearance was proper enough, the ends of his hair perhaps a bit disheveled from playing with it while he worked. His wide eyes found yours and grew even wider. “You—!” 

You wiggled your fingers in a wave. “Hello!” you said gleefully. 

The servant tensed, and you could practically feel the anxiety radiating from her. Hmmm, her composure seemed so thick just a moment ago. Did you do that?~

“Was it not right to bring her here?” she rushed to say, starting to step between you as if to defend her sect leader. 

However, before anything could happen, a huge mound of fluff came trotting from behind Jin Ling, bumping directly into your legs and stomach. 

“Yes!” you crowed, dropping to a crouch as you ruffled Fairy’s fur, no longer needing to hide your delight. “Hi, baby!~” 

You heard Jin Ling’s palm smack into his forehead, and the servant girl made a tiny, desperate noise, utterly unsure what to do. 

“Did you lie to get here?” Jin Ling demanded, and you hummed thoughtfully. 

“Not really. I mean, I do have a message from Jiang-zongzhu you might want to hear.” Though the man himself hadn’t sent you off with it intentionally, heh. 

“Zongzhu,” the servant girl said urgently, “if you need this Miss escorted away—”

“No,” he interrupted, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s fine. I need a break or I’ll lose my fucking mind.” 

You were tempted to call him out on his language, but honestly, it was his right to curse in front of his own servant. And in front of you! It pleased you beyond words. 

Like the good doggie it was, Fairy wriggled out of your embrace and took your sleeve in its teeth, pulling you into the office. 

As Jin Ling turned around to watch his spirit dog nudge you into a chair, the servant hovered by the open door. Nothing like this had ever happened to her, you thought with great amusement. 

“Well?” Jin Ling prompted, a bit irritable, but he didn’t try to kick you out. 

You paused, hands on Fairy’s adorable face. There were a few ways to go about this, but you would probably be executed for real if you enacted most of them. 

“Well,” you said, clearing your throat. “Your uncle wanted you to know…” 

Jin Ling’s eyebrows disappeared past his bangs. 

Your poker face broke, splitting into a wide smile. “… That he loves you very much!~” 

“Oh my god,” Jin Ling blurted. 

Rocking backward in the sturdy chair, you cackled without reservation. Fairy continued to enthusiastically bump into you for more pats, providing even more mixed signals to the poor servant who looked like she would cry if she wasn’t so bewildered. 

“Listen, listen,” you gasped, cheeks aching with laughter. “He didn’t ask me to say that, but I could infer it! Technically he does want you to know, but he’d never say it out loud—so what’s the problem if I do it for him?” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Jin Ling groaned, covering his face with his hands. 

The servant tried again. “Zongzhu…” 

“Just go, Xiao-Ming,” Jin Ling muttered, and you nearly pumped your fists in victory. 

“Don’t worry, Xiao-Ming!” you called cheerfully, hauling Fairy closer. “I’m harmless!” 

Xiao-Ming just stared at you for a minute, only broken out of her daze when Jin Ling shook his head exasperatedly. “She just likes to pet Fairy. Don’t worry, just let me handle this.” 

“Darn right I do,” you sighed, opening your legs to invite Fairy to hop both front paws on the seat between them. Dodging the enthusiastic tongue lapping at your face, you hugged the massive puppy and ruffled its pelt while grinning at the pair by the door.

It took another frown from her sect leader before Xiao-Ming departed.

Chapter Text

Closing the door behind him, Jin Ling tilted his head back, listening. Then, with an annoyed roll of his eyes, he took a talisman from his pocket and pasted it on the wall. Its red sigil glowed, and you caught a faint whiff of spiritual energy before the sensation faded. 

When you cast him a quizzical look, he explained, “Xiao-Ming gets worried too easily. She’s standing right outside in case you harass me or something.” 

“Have I not already harassed you?” you asked, hoping he knew it was rhetorical.

Rolling his eyes again, Jin Ling gave a long-suffering sigh with the barest hint of fondness. “Whatever. She won’t come in without being called, and she’ll fuck off eventually—but don’t worry about her eavesdropping. I put a silencing talisman on the door. I have to carry a bunch around anyway, since my sect is full of snakes.” He tapped the glowing talisman with his knuckles, speaking far too placidly about his own sect vying to backstab him. “This always happens, and I literally never call her unless my visitors need to be escorted back, but she keeps doing it anyway.”

Something clicked. “Ohhhhhhh.” 

At Jin Ling’s confused scowl, you nearly succumbed to the temptation to stand up and ruffle his hair. He was just like his uncle. 

You explained, “So, she takes guests to you…” Jin Ling nodded. “… And then hovers outside the room…” 

“Uh huh.” 

Clearly he had no idea where you were going with this. 

“… Worried for your safety…” you pressed. 

“It’s not like she’s a guard,” he scoffed. 

Oh, oblivious child. 

“She probably likes you,” you said bluntly. Then your eyes flicked to the door, cringing to yourself; it really wasn’t your place to say that, but you couldn’t help yourself. How else were you supposed to learn about his relationships? 

Jin Ling paused. “Uh? No, why would she?” he said, baffled. 

You snickered, which annoyed Jin Ling further. “You’re of similar age, first of all.” Putting on a saccharine tone, you continued, “You’re a handsome young man…~” Jin Ling made a noise of complaint, but it didn’t deter you. “And you’re a sect leader with a half-decent personality. Of course a girl’s gonna catch feelings.” 

The boy’s face was rosy from all the compliments, but you meant them somewhat objectively. Your bias lay in how much Jin Ling reminded you of Jiang Wanyin. 

“That’s…” Jin Ling mumbled, suddenly shy in a way that made you want to coo and then hit yourself for it. “You’re jumping to conclusions.” 

“Hmm, maybe. It’s not like I know her very well,” you said easily. But there was still an irresistible pull to gauge his love life. Just like that, you’d become a meddling auntie. “What do you think of her?” 

Caught unawares, Jin Ling started to answer, “She’s fine and all…” Then he remembered you were barely better than a stranger, and he redirected with a pointed scowl, “That’s none of your business!” 

He sat down behind his desk with a huff, releasing a short whistle for Fairy to return to his side. Unfortunately for him, this only spurred you to traipse over as well, sitting on the floor so you could fold yourself in half to keep your hands buried in Fairy’s thick coat. 

Ignoring his look of halfhearted disapproval, you said, “You’ve got me there. But you can totally tell me anyway. I’m just curious. Or I can give some advice.~” 

Staring down at you in disbelief, Jin Ling rubbed Fairy’s flank and tried to adapt to your eccentricities. “Why do you want to know? You’re so weird.” 

Ah, he had yet to grasp the skill of articulating his frustrations. His uncle had that down to a science.

You hummed. “Well…~ I heard you’ve got a whole horde of uncles, but I do believe that leaves you in a deficit of aunties~” 

The boy made an incredulous sound. “Who the hell have you been talking to that gave you that idea?” Before you could answer, Jin Ling’s hand smacked on the desk, eyes round as lemons. “Wei Wuxian?!” 

His immediate assumption, while correct, sent you into another fit of laughter. “You clocked that so fast! You’re right, but he didn’t say anything about aunties. I just felt the need to supplement, since it’ll give me certain privileges~” 

Despair filled Jin Ling’s gaze, but the type of despair one felt when their parents held dessert hostage until they did their chores. “Are you serious? All this to steal my dog from me?” 

“I would never!” you gasped, hand to heart. That hand was bunched with dog fur between the fingers, which probably didn’t help your case. 

Stealing your uncle, on the other hand… you thought wistfully.

You explained, “It’s not just Fairy I want to bother. I’m allowed to be fond of you too, aren’t I? With all respect.” 

Jin Ling covered his face again, but those hands couldn’t hide the red staining his cheeks. “You’re so shameless. What the hell? No wonder you’re friends with Wei Wuxian.” He peeked through his fingers, lips turned in an incredibly squishable frown. “How did that even happen, anyway? Are you doing this on purpose, going around bothering cultivators?” 

“Networking incident,” you said sagely, patting Fairy’s hind leg. “A few coincidences came together. He wants me to give him updates on Jiang-zongzhu next time I see him. Don’t tell your uncle, by the way.” 

Now Jin Ling’s frown was more genuine, the color fading from his cheeks as he resumed petting Fairy. “Jiujiu will be really upset if you’re keeping that from him.”

Something about that tickled your intuition. “So you do know that I’m seeing Jiang-zongzhu pretty often,” you guessed. Your own phrasing made your cheeks prickle. 

The young sect leader squinted at you, trying for intimidation but instead looking like a grumpy duckling. 

“It’s common knowledge that you approached him for business,” he said suspiciously. That indicated the rumor mill had likely reached every sect and a bit beyond. “And jiujiu has…” 

He paused. 

Interest piqued high as the North Star itself, you leaned in, nails scritching Fairy’s scalp. “He’s…?”

Jin Ling’s nose scrunched, visibly unwilling to cooperate. “… He’s complained about how annoying you are!” he snapped. “In his letters. You’re so unprofessional all the time!” 

Somewhat taken aback, you laughed. It wasn’t news that everyone in the world found your manners lacking, but Jiang Wanyin had really written to his nephew about it? Ah, how it warmed your soul that your sporadic pestering earned space in his personal correspondence. 

Staring at your unrestrained smile, Jin Ling asked, suddenly and harshly, “Do you have some weird motives with my jiujiu?” 

You blinked, thankful that your face was already warm. 

What a dilemma! Tell the boy you wanted to court his uncle, or stick with the same logical ruse as you’d given to Jiang Wanyin just last week. 

“Nah,” you lied. “We’re friends, though.” In a flash of inspiration, your lips curled into a crafty smile. “Got that in the bag~” 

Under Jin Ling’s baffled gaze, you reached into your robes and snagged your qiankun pouch, dangling it for him to see. 

It took a moment. But when the realization hit, Jin Ling looked as if you’d told him you smithed a sword with your bare hands.

“Jiujiu gave that to you?!” he squawked. 

You couldn’t help it. You burst out laughing, using all your strength to haul Fairy to roll over on your lap so you could bury your face into that fluffy neck. It squirmed but didn’t complain about the position change, lifting its pointy face to pant at you while happily receiving more belly rubs.

“He sure did!” you managed between breaths. “I’d be lying if I said I fully understood why, but it does mean we’re officially friends, not just business partners. So, in this humble one’s opinion, that qualifies me for auntie status~” 

The barrage of shamelessness stunned Jin Ling so speechless, he refused to even address it. “There’s nothing humble about you,” he groused. 

Though there was much to refute in that statement (humbleness and shamelessness were not mutually exclusive, for one), you did want to clear something up before the topic flitted away like a leaf by the wind. 

“I do intend to tell Jiang…” Wanyin. “… zongzhu, that I’ve, um, become familiar with Wei Wuxian. But…” 

Feeling hesitant, you cast your faith into the prospect of Jin Ling being on board with the idea. He hadn’t scorned you so far. 

“I want to help them make up. And I can’t tell him until I know he won’t kill me the second he hears it.” 

Hesitation filled Jin Ling’s gaze. Despite not answering for a good while, you could see that he was partial to the suggestion. 

“I know they miss each other,” you pressed. “I can tell. But Jiang-zongzhu isn’t gonna take it well if it’s from me.” 

“And you think I can convince jiujiu to make nice with the man who ruined his life,” Jin Ling said flatly. 

Chills spread in your chest. 

“Okay,” you murmured, voice slowing as you searched for words, “I know I’m not privy to everything. Most things.” You rested a hand on Fairy’s flank, feeling the rise and fall of its breath as it looked dolefully at its master. “Please tell me what you mean by that.” 

Shaking his head, Jin Ling stated, “Until Wei Wuxian returned, I only heard the worst things about him. Including from jiujiu. And a lot of them… maybe not all of them, but a lot were true, or at least based in truth.” 

Whether he didn’t know how to describe those stories or was simply unwilling to tell you, Jin Ling didn’t elaborate. He looked at you meaningfully, and you felt your heart break up like a piece of snow caught in a river current. 

“I see.” A bit stumped and a lot dejected, you cast your eyes to the flawless wood floor, frowning. 

“But…” 

You turned to face Jin Ling again. He chewed on his bottom lip, his face twisted in uncertainty. 

“That day,” he said, quiet and almost nervous, “I saw when jiujiu realized it was him—I mean, really him. Uhm…” Jin Ling’s hand reached to the side, gripping something as if for comfort; you glimpsed a sword in a golden sheath, a sleek red tassel bumping against Jin Ling’s hand. “I thought he was being delusional again, because he used to torture demonic cultivators trying to get them to admit they were him—and Zidian had already ruled out possession at that point. But…” 

Something heavy in your stomach did a slow roll. Not for the first time, you had to remember the brutality of the jianghu, the reputation Jiang Wanyin had for torture. Jin Ling’s lips were turned in a little pout, which would be cuter had those lips not uttered the word torture so casually a moment ago. 

“Part of him looked… happy, that he was back.”

Breath held, you scooted a bit closer to the frowning boy. 

“But,” Jin Ling burst out, “jiujiu keeps giving mixed signals about whether he freaking misses Wei Wuxian or not! It’s so annoying!” He whipped his head to glare down at you, and your lips broke into a grin. 

“Trust me, I’m quite familiar with those mixed signals,” you sighed. When you reached up to pat his knee, Jin Ling only flinched a bit; when you rested your hand there, he didn’t push you off. 

Eyes closed, Jin Ling bowed his head. The pinch in his brows was too deep to be burdening a mere teenager. “I want jiujiu to be happy,” he muttered. “But he’s so bad at it.”

Patting his leg some more, you let your eyes drift in thought. “I told him something similar last month,” you confided. “I really think we should conspire about it, A-Ling.”

“Maybe,” he mumbled. 

Your heart thumped, grin spreading smugly.

Fairy woofed, and Jin Ling startled out of his daze. “Hey!” he scolded, but you were already laughing. 

“No takebacks, I’m your auntie now!~” 

“That’s not how that works!” 

“It is because I say so~” 

“Why are you—” Jin Ling visibly suppressed a screech of frustration, batting away your hand as you cackled on the floor. “What’s with you?! You just—barged into jiujiu’s life, and now you’re doing it to me! I didn’t invite you here!” 

A hint of guilt dimmed your smile, but you knocked your fist lightly into his leg. “If you asked me to leave, I would.” 

Jin Ling scowled. “Get out.” 

Bluff called, you obediently rose to your feet and gave Fairy a parting scratch behind the ears. It’d be a lie to claim your heart wasn’t pulled by gravity in this moment, but you were true to your word. 

About two steps away from the door, Jin Ling groaned behind you. “Stop, stop, stop. I get it. Just… come back and keep entertaining Fairy. I need to work.” 

In an instant, your heart transformed into a plume of feathers. Spinning around, you took measured steps to return to Jin Ling’s desk, then leaned over it with a grin. Jin Ling blinked up at you in consternation, his face looking even more squishable than ever, but you simply smiled and resumed sitting with his dog as it licked itself. Heh. 

You spent a while like this, blithely playing with Fairy while Jin Ling complained about his paperwork in a half-mumble. At some point you got a bit bored and summoned a novel from your qiankun pouch, which made Jin Ling glance over. 

“Your uncle said not to tell anyone he gave this to me, by the way,” you mentioned, causing Jin Ling’s face to twist even more. “But I think you don’t really count.” 

“What kind of secret keeper are you, lady?” he grumbled. 

“There are no secrets between family.” 

That made Jin Ling turn his whole body to stare at you. “Really?” His voice dripped with disbelief. “You’re saying that to me?” 

After a pause, you relented. “Alright, you’ve got a big messed-up family with tons of secrets. Sure, I’ll give you that. However, counterpoint,” you held up your index finger, “I was joking.” 

“Tch.” 

“I was!” you exclaimed, leaning forward to poke the center of his hanfu’s peony insignia. “I keep plenty of secrets from my family! Not, like, city-shattering secrets, but nevertheless.” 

The disbelieving look did not leave Jin Ling’s face. “Sure, whatever.” He turned back to his work with a petulant little huff. 

“Aiyoh, just like your uncle.” Shaking your head fondly, your attention turned inward for a second. Since you weren’t super hungry yet, you sent off a mental prayer to your parents stuck at dinner with the stuffy Jins of the palace, then resumed reading your book. 

More time passed much the same, the silence companionable. At some point, Fairy laid itself across Jin Ling’s feet while facing you so you could play with its face every couple minutes. Jin Ling brushed the toe of his boot back and forth across Fairy’s spine absently, a focused wrinkle in his brow as he flipped through books and paperwork. Meanwhile, the novel in your hands wavered between somewhat interesting to flat as a swatted bug. 

At certain points, it required effort not to pipe up with another question for the young sect leader: Do you read for fun? Does Xiao-Ming’s name imply the existence of a Lao-Ming? Can you tell whether Xiao-Ming is still standing outside? Do you have a crush on anyone, and can I (your honorary auntie) help? How can I woo your uncle so he thinks it’s his own idea? 

Alas, you had to prove to not one but two grumpy guys that you knew how to keep your silence. It would be so much easier if this novel actually did anything with the characters it tried to introduce! 

“Alright,” you announced, planting a smooch on Fairy’s white, furry brow. “I’m going to dinner.”

“The dining hall is open during you shi,” Jin Ling said without looking up. The paper in front of him had an offensive amount of numbers on it; if you were your father, you’d probably be able to glean some nasty Jin Clan secrets just from a glance. “You’ll have to specially request a meal to your room since your family’s staying overnight.” 

Your pointer finger tapped impatiently on the shut cover of your book. “Is that what you’re doing?” 

“Mn.”

“When?”

“I don’t know,” Jin Ling said irritably, scribbling something out on a nearby paper. “Why?”

You opened your mouth to reply, only for your brain to catch up in the nick of time. This was borderline childish—“Doing it myself is too much effort, can I just wait till you do it?” What kind of adult asked to hang out with their friend’s nephew a little longer just so they didn’t have to figure out dinner by themself? 

The past decade of adulthood hadn’t set in; something inside you felt lost, bereft. That was your own fault, wasn’t it? 

“Nothing,” you said finally, returning all your belongings into your qiankun pouch before standing up with a stretch. A pit of anxiety opened in your stomach, threatening to override your need for dinner at all, but you pushed it down. “Do I have to go to the kitchens?” 

“Just have a servant do it,” Jin Ling said dismissively. “Xiao-Ming’s probably still out there, so just tell her what you need.” 

“M’kay.” 

Fairy stood up with you after a second, panting as if to ask why you were disrupting the peace. You gave it more rubs while straightening out your clothes, making absolutely sure you looked the same as when you entered. 

Stepping up to loom over Jin Ling in his seat, you tossed social acceptability to the wind and gave the boy some headpats. 

Jin Ling’s expression blanked out. “Huh.” 

Softening at the sight of him, you patted his head a second and third time, then drew back. Lifting both hands to face-level, you mimed pinching and tugging his cheeks. This was the closest you would probably get for a long while. 

“Won’t A-Ling indulge me, just this once?” you said in a mock-sweet voice, intentionally pushing your luck. Testing. 

Eyes round with disbelief, Jin Ling looked between your hands and your face, processing your audacity. Finally, he planted his free hand on his hip and turned his nose up at you. 

“I’m not calling you auntie,” he huffed. 

So he did understand!

“Mmn. Maybe if you did, Xiao-Ming out there will feel a bit better about letting me in here,” you teased. 

“Ugh. Give one servant the wrong idea, and that’s how rumors start!” Jin Ling smacked his brush flat on the desk, spotting ink on the polished wood. “Don’t you have servants? You should know this!” 

“That’s the kind of thing you have to accept,” you said genially. “People are gonna make rumors about you no matter what you do.” 

“You’re impossible!” Tossing up his hands, Jin Ling threw you one last glare for the road. “Go away, I need to finish my work!” 

“On it, Zongzhu.” 

Sent off with his grumbles about poor manners, you made it to the door and caught sight of the silencing talisman, which you’d forgotten about. Plucking it off the wall and pocketing it in your qiankun pouch, you stuck your head out the door and glanced to each side down the vast hall. 

“Xiaolin?” you called, then covered your mouth in mortification. “Oh my god, sorry. That’s my servant’s name,” you explained lamely to an unimpressed Jin Ling and whoever else might’ve been within earshot. “Uh, Xiao-Ming?”

The girl appeared while you were thumping your forehead against the doorframe in self-punishment. Her composure had replenished, her pretty smile as polite and professional as ever. “You called, Miss?” 

Turning your head while half-leaning on the doorframe, you gave her a strained smile. “Hi. I need dinner. Help?”

Xiao-Ming’s eyes darted to her sect leader and back in a millisecond. “Of course, Miss. Let’s take care of that right away,” she said obediently. Was she playing it up now, or was her voice always so saccharine? Goodness, did she think you were competition or something? 

“Thanks.” As you stepped into the hall, you chirped, “Bye-bye, Fairy!~ See you sometime, Jin-zongzhu.” 

The dog gave a soft “rrf” in farewell, and the human only waved you off. “Yeah, yeah. Take your time, guniang.”

Tch. He should be grateful you didn’t call him A-Ling in front of the servant. 

And so, you took your leave. 

Treading down the hall after Xiao-Ming whose pace was brisk to the point of suspicion, you pondered how to return to her good graces—or at least to her neutral graces. Any other time, you would hold your peace like a cherished vase, but you felt that this girl’s dislike of you might have consequences at some point down the line.

Start simple, as they say. 

“What’s your name?”

Xiao-Ming’s gait took a drastic turn for the slow. This did not trip you up because she was a good four meters ahead of you. 

“This servant is called Ming Gugu,” she said politely. “It is lovely to make this guniang’s acquaintance.”

As far as introductions went, you had an odd aversion to offering your own name. But you did it now, because it was only fair. 

“Yes, Miss,” replied Ming Gugu. “I was there when your family spoke with my master.” 

An ill feeling arose when you thought of that old Jin man as this teenage girl’s “master.” 

“Ooookay…” Eyes wandering the opulent hall and the gold-adorned people you passed, you searched for more common ground. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“Yes, Miss,” Ming Gugu repeated. She really wasn’t giving you anything, sheesh. 

Yet you persisted. “Was it while I was hanging out with your zongzhu? I hope so.”

It seemed you’d caught her in a fib. She hesitated for a moment, weaving through a line of servants taking laundry to the wash house for tomorrow morning. “… I eat my two meals when my master dictates,” she begrudged very nicely. “Dinner was a few hours ago for me.”

“Two meals?” Your stomach dropped on her behalf. 

“Mn. It keeps my proportions optimal. According to my master.” 

Creepy old fucks back at it again with controlling women from a young age!

“Gross,” you said candidly. “Is his cultivation good? Maybe he’ll die soon if it’s not.”

Ming Gugu seemed to have placed a porcelain mask over her face, because she didn’t have a fun reaction like Jin Ling would’ve. “It is not my station to speak of my master’s cultivation.” She paused. “Or life expectancy.” 

You tutted. “Not that I know anything about your sect politics, but…” 

Thinking about it, if Ming Gugu requested to be Jin Ling’s personal staff, she would certainly be viewed as trying to seduce the poor boy. In that outfit? She didn’t stand a chance. And if Jin Ling was the one to initiate the role transfer for just one girl, he’d practically be projecting his favor regardless of the favor’s existence. 

Shaking your head, you sighed, “Never mind. Sect politics are sect politics. Just hang in there, Gu-er.” 

Her smile twitched. “Please don’t call me that.” 

“Mm.”

Outside the kitchens, you offered her a coin and a cookie from your plate, and spent an entire minute convincing her to eat the damn thing. You managed to persuade her by promising that, if caught, you would take full blame with the excuse of coaxing and bullying and lording your station above her et cetera et cetera; to your silent delight, Ming Gugu revealed her sweet tooth, stuffing her delicate cheeks like a super cute chipmunk who was half a head taller than you. 

After all this, she finally tolerated you enough to walk at a decent pace to the Jinlintai guest rooms. 

That would do for now.

Chapter Text

Your friends gathered in a renowned inn for Cao Ling’s birthday. While it was technically within her means to book the whole place for privacy, you simply didn’t maintain friendships with unreasonable people. Instead, you gathered in a separate room just far enough from the main hall that the sound of other diners was easily drowned out by your own conversation. Nobody minded the distant clamor, nor the occasional swell of music from a few hallways over, simply chatting over good food and the looming pile of presents behind the birthday girl. 

“No fucking way!” exclaimed Kei Hunan, tossing around her wine in a manner that put everyone in imminent peril. With the number of jugs accumulated behind her, you’d have to invent a game to play with them to justify allowing her another. “How does that even happen?!” 

Chang Yuanzi smiled sheepishly, the current subject of the conversation. “Weeeeeelllll… earlier that day, A-Liu offered me her pipe, and it had, uh, been a while…” 

A-Liu was his wife, who was presently off in the trenches of Qinghe’s mountainous terrain, where they lived together. Damn near impossible to get to, from personal experience. 

“So, uh, when it hit, let’s just say I was having A Time.” 

“Duuude~” Kei Hunan’s slurred voice was getting uncomfortably loud, far over the tipping point of her vast alcohol tolerance. Cao Ling shushed her with a rub of her arm, her smile a bit wan at your friend’s blatant alcoholism. “That does notttt explain how you met a famous rich guy!” 

“I’m getting there!” Chang Yuanzi squawked, indignant at his storytelling being questioned. “A-Liu and I were having a whole convo about fruit or something, and you know how I get when I’m high, I couldn’t think of my argument at all, so I was trying to explain what was in my head while it was out of my head, but I managed to pull out my art set to do it.” 

His story was punctuated by his chopsticks flitting this way and that, stabbing different foods on the shared plates and bowls at the center of the table. 

“So, I painted something like this,” the scraps of Chang Yuanzi’s food assassination formed an abstract piece on the nearest plate, “and A-Liu freaking laughed me out of my own home! What the hell, A-Liu!” 

“Yeah, what the hell, A-Liu,” Kei Hunan parroted. Cao Ling and Li Anli on her other side each took an arm to prevent Kei Hunan from planting her hands on the edible art piece. 

Chang Yuanzi started working himself up as he continued, “So I took my painting—still high, mind you!—and went out on a walk, ’cause I guess I thought I could get some validation from the neighbors, but they weren’t even home! I had to go all the way to town to find anyone! Except I faceplanted, like, six times on the way there, so…”

While he veered into a tangent, your attention drifted to the other conversation happening in the room. Ai Mo and Jing Mingyu were somehow barely louder than the din filtered from the outside, the open area of the inn bustling at this time of evening. 

“… Thought it was a good idea,” Jing Mingyu was saying sheepishly, to which Ai Mo gave an emphatic nod. 

“It was! You just need to be, uh, subtler,” Ai Mo tried to assure him, though he wasn’t really one to talk. 

“How do I go to a freaking brothel subtly,” Jing Mingyu groused. 

Ah, you’d missed… a lot of the conversation. 

“Why’re you going to a brothel?” you intercepted, vaguely aware that Chang Yuanzi was expositing about a chance encounter with a caravan full of high-ranking officials. 

Jing Mingyu went pale, as if he was actually the type to pay for a prostitute. “Oh, ah, um, uhhhh—”

“Oh, Mingyu got completely obsessed with one of his neighbor’s tapestries, except apparently the guy got it from this super-skilled lady in a brothel,” Ai Mo supplied. 

You stared at Jing Mingyu in fascination. “Holy shit?” 

Jing Mingyu took a disgruntled swig of his liquor, messy droplets trickling into his mustache and bushy beard. “I thought it’d be fine to go and ask for a commission, but the old lady asked if I’m here to buy a night, and she didn’t let me get a word in edgewise before kicking me out!”

“You’re such a virgin, Mingyu,” Li Anli said dryly from the other side of the table, now holding Kei Hunan’s wine jar on the table while the drunk woman struggled to pry it from her grasp. “You think a lady who extorts women for a living couldn’t tell that you’ve never touched a woman?”

“I’m a cut-sleeve, not a virgin,” Jing Mingyu grumbled. 

“She could probably tell that, too.” 

“I just want a tapestry!” Glaring at Li Anli, Jing Mingyu stuffed a pepper into his mouth. “And all o’ you would too, if you saw her work!” 

“Mingyu,” you sighed, taking a commiseratory bite of a dumpling that’d gone cold five minutes ago, “you know what you have to do.” 

Jing Mingyu deflated. “That’s not fair,” he mumbled. 

True, your friend didn’t like to throw around his family’s money the way you did. Notwithstanding that he was superficially disowned by his parents, he still had access to those funds, but was full of shame in flaunting it. At this point, though, you were willing to take one for the team just to see what the fuss was about over those tapestries. 

Before you could offer, your attention was snatched by Chang Yuanzi crying, “And he asked me how much it was—because he wanted to buy it! Do you know how hard it was to pretend I wasn’t high off my ass?! That other guy was totally egging him on—he thought I was a, a, an eccentric genius or something!” 

“Please tell me your art was complete shit,” Cao Ling goaded, her gemstone eyes twinkling with mirth. 

“No, it was just mediocre shit,” Chang Yuanzi said morosely. “But he took it and gave me a whole bag of gold, and I didn’t even sign my name. Can you believe it?” 

“Whoooooa,” Kei Hunan hiccuped. “So you totally missed your big break.” 

“I’m not an artist!” 

Chang Yuanzi liked art, but you’d seen his attempts at painting. The guy was a logger and worked skillfully with the wood he harvested, but there was little he could do to find a painting and calligraphy teacher out in the middle of nowhere in Qinghe. 

“At least your limbs didn’t get a big break either,” you said sagely. “How’d you get back home without falling down a cliff, by the way?” 

“I almost didn’t,” Chang Yuanzi moped, picking apart his food art replica miserably. “I got into town somehow, and I at least had enough brain cells left to go to the inn. Uh, I guess it was good that the guy gave me some money, because I had, at most, a couple acorns in my hair and some pocket lint. The innkeeper would’ve put the room on my tab if I couldn’t pay, but still. Uh, anyway, A-Liu did come after me, so we stayed in the inn together since it was getting late… she beat my ass for nearly scaring her into a search party, though.” 

“PEGGING!” Kei Hunan yelled, and Li Anli had to clamp her hand over the drunk woman’s mouth, several of you going Shhhh simultaneously. 

“Glad you’re alive to join us, Zizi,” Cao Ling wrapped it up with her effortless pleasantry. Turning her attention to Li Anli fighting for her life on the other side of a whining Kei Hunan, Cao Ling asked, “Anything new with you?” 

“Hm.” Dropping her hand and wiping it on Kei Hunan’s shoulder, Li Anli raked her fingers through her hair, then remembered she wasn’t supposed to do that while it was in her fancy, gold-woven double buns. “Archiving the latest doctrines has been a pile of ass. Not that I wish death upon the emperor or anything,” half the room shushed her, notwithstanding of the actual meaning of her words, “but can he at least get a grip when he’s trying to direct the rhetoric in this country? Shit, dude.” 

“I thought you just had to file things for your job?” you asked, lost already. It was so hard to keep up with your friends’ lives, even if their stations had been decided a decade ago. Maybe that was just your own laziness, but they never seemed to mind an excuse to complain anew.

“That was the case,” Li Anli groused. “Now I handle archiving and inventory. So anytime some asshole tries to file a fake doctrine from the emperor, I have to detail all the stupid reasons it’s fraudulent, and I have to make sure there aren’t any other copies my dumbass subordinates received by mistake. Which is why it sucks so bad that the guy keeps changing his mind about the official doctrines!” She huffed. “At least I’m not on distribution.”

Ai Mo gaped, scandalized by her melodramatic tales. “How can such a prestigious library hire so many incompetent people?!” 

“No,” Li Anli sighed, grabbing a sweetcake that had been quietly brought in by the waitstaff. “Most of my staff know what they’re doing. But the owners want me to quadruple-check every single discrepancy, and I just can’t delegate that kind of task. Those things aren’t even worth looking into most of the time, but whatever. Long as it puts food on the table.” 

As many times as she had claimed such a thing over the years, you could never quite grasp how anyone had that much energy—the type of drive that let a person manage a reputable department and go back home to their family perfectly able to spend quality time with them. 

Satisfied with her rant, Li Anli bit into the pastry, and her eyes went round. “Holy mother of heaven, this tastes amazing.” 

Six hands reached for the plate of sweetcakes, and all of you ardently agreed with Li Anli’s assessment. 

“So, like I was saying,” she continued, wiping pastry flakes off her mouth with an embroidered napkin, “as long as I get to go home every night—which is debatable actually…” 

“They should pay you more,” you supplied helpfully. 

“Yeeeah,” Li Anli sighed, more sarcastic than genuine. “Really, as long as I can feed the husband and kids, I can deal with anything.” 

Again, you mentally called bullshit. 

“Uuuuuuuugh, kids!” Kei Hunan burst out, and the whole room could feel the mood dampen a degree. “Kids are soooo annoying, guys! No one should ever have them!” 

While this might’ve been a fun-silly-sincere sentiment coming from you, Kei Hunan was not someone who should be saying these things. Namely because she had three children of her own, and all of you were deeply aware that she was not a responsible parent. Anyone from a lower class would’ve had their children snatched straight from their home by now, but—perhaps for the best—Kei Hunan’s servants were practically the kids’ main parents at this point. 

Not that you’d know firsthand. You didn’t make it a habit to visit Kei Hunan at her husband’s home. (It was convenient that she remained close with her family, who was partnered with yours, so your meetups were far away from any children.)

“Kids are nice when they behave,” Li Anli said with a dark tinge to her voice. A good parent, she was, but a terrifying one at times (according to her husband, who stayed at home and was very glad for visitors).

“Truuuuuueeee…” Kei Hunan swayed a bit, and it took a collaborative effort between Li Anli and Cao Ling to keep her from faceplanting into a pie. 

“Someday she won’t drink so much,” Jing Mingyu mumbled, but everyone knew it was wishful thinking. 

The mean streak inside you snapped that Kei Hunan wouldn’t have to drink to cope if she hadn’t accepted an arranged marriage and obligatory children that she didn’t like nor want, but your empathetic side beat those mean thoughts to a pulp and let none escape. All things considered, she had a pretty good life with functionally no responsibilities, wed a husband who didn’t resent her height and physical prowess, and fell into social expectation enough to evade harassment. The latter part was more than could be said for you, even if it didn’t affect your behavior.  

“Anyway,” Cao Ling chimed, drawing the chaos to a lull, “who hasn’t had a turn yet?” 

Aha… finally. 

“Meeeeee~” you drawled, no longer able to contain your smirk as your heart thrilled. 

“Ooh, you’ve got news,” Ai Mo gasped. 

“You have an actual contribution?” Li Anli said in disbelief. “It’s not just another brag of your endless freedom, is it?”

She was jealous, but she also said it in jest. Li Anli wouldn’t trade her life if it meant ascension to godhood.

“As a matter of fact,” you sniffed, “things have been happening to me lately.” 

Jing Mingyu giggled into his liquor. Coming from a man of his bulk, the sound was vaguely unnerving. “Passive tense, friend,” he jested. 

“In this case, it’s accurate.” Heaving a dramatic sigh, you pulled out your first handcrafted fan, opening it in three half-successful flourishes and fluttering it in front of your face. “I keep having run-ins with the jianghu. But it’s not my fault!” Aside from the last time with Jin Ling, but the point stood. 

“Ugh, stuffy cultivators?” Chang Yuanzi wrinkled his nose. You recalled he had to deal with yao on his own because of his remote location, meaning cultivators didn’t like to bother. That would garner a grudge, wouldn’t it?

“Stuffy but sooooooo hotttt~” Kei Hunan hiccuped, grinning sloppily at you with her cheek squished to the table. 

“Right?!” you exclaimed, shutting your fan with a ruffled snap and pointing it at her. “It’s, like, unfair how ethereal everyone is!” 

Cao Ling piped up, “My mom said that your mom was saying in their letters that you took on your first client for the family.” 

Figured your mother would snitch as a chance to brag. 

“Yep,” you confirmed. Tapping the ragged ends of your fan on your chin, you allowed your grin to split your cheeks like a damn canyon. “I’m working for the Sandu Shengshou… and I’m kind of enjoying myself.~” 

“Wait,” Ai Mo said, and you knew right away what was coming. He pointed at you with a spoon. “Isn’t that why you came to steal from A-Qi’s orchards? You were giving the sect leader a bribe for reasons you didn’t tell me?” 

Bai Leiqi was his wife, and yes, you’d bothered them for just that purpose. 

“I did not steal,” you said with a very dignified cadence. “I paid for that fruit; just, y’know, before it could get to the market. And it was not a bribe!” Exhaling loudly in playful annoyance, you explained, “I insulted him by accident, so I gave him some stuff in apology. And advertised Leiqi’s produce, by the way!”

“You insulted the Jiang sect leader?” Everyone was horrified. 

“Ohhhhhh my god,” you groaned, “I’m still alive, aren’t I? It wasn’t a big deal! And we’re friends now, anyway.” 

“You’re friends with the Jiang sect leader?!” 

At this point, you felt a little insulted—but the type of insulted as when a child drew you as a giant blob in their first family picture. 

“What? I can make friends sometimes!” you said defensively. 

“Sure you can,” Li Anli intoned, “but you never talk to anyone new unless it’s to toss money at them.”

“Hey, now—”

“Yeah yeah yeah! You make me talk to vendors for you when we’re out shopping,” Jing Mingyu accused, “unless it’s to cut in and bribe someone!”

“I’m feeling a little attacked right now…”

Ai Mo snickered, playing up the moment by dramatically adjusting his glasses. “So you bribed Sect Leader Jiang for his friendship with that gift basket. I see, I see.”

“It was not a bribe! Do I need to prove our friendship or something?” Head twisting around, you stared at each of your friends in disbelief. Except for Kei Hunan, who was distracted with dunking one of Li Anli’s fingers in an open jar of honey and then licking it off. (You made a mental note not to use that honey for your next cup of tea.)

“I meannnn…” 

You stared at Cao Ling, betrayed. “You, too?”

She smiled at you helplessly. “Well, you aren’t exactly known for being sociable… and neither is Sect Leader Jiang. In a very different way, of course, but nevertheless…” 

“Aiyah,” you muttered, then raised your voice. “Lucky for you bitches, I do have some proof.”

It was unprovoked, you were well aware. But you were just dying to show this thing off! 

Feeling up your leg under the table, you wrangled your qiankun pouch into the open and presented it with pride. 

“Behold,” you announced. “A gift.” 

To their credit, your friends oohed and ahed at the gorgeous purple and silver detailing. Kei Hunan swiped at it, but your reflexes kicked in just in time, holding it out of reach. None of them had spiritual permission to use it, so you couldn’t risk anyone figuring out that it physically wouldn’t open for them. 

“Sect Leader Jiang gave that to you?” Chang Yuanzi said in disbelief. “That grumpy guy? The dude who tortured demonic cultivators for ten years?” 

“Thirteen years,” you corrected. For a second you pondered revealing that, too—you’d met the Yiling Laozu. Then you smacked that possibility straight out the window. You could betray Jiang Wanyin’s trust a tiny bit by showing your oldest friends a qiankun pouch under the guise of a normal little bag, but you drew the line at exposing your friendship with the demonic cultivator of all time. “Anyway…”

Gripping it by the top so nobody could open it, you offered the pouch to your friends to poke and prod. 

“Why’re you holding it like that?” Jing Mingyu asked, affronted. “Lemme take it.”

Ignoring his request, you said, “So I can do this.” 

Thwack! You hit your friend with the cloth bag. 

“Hey!” he complained, rubbing his arm as if the thing didn’t weigh half a pound—truly, the magic of cultivation!

The others laughed, and you waved around the qiankun pouch threateningly, grasp firm as the bottom flopped around. Your diversion was successful. 

Tucking it away, you redirected the conversation. “Jiang Wanyin isn’t so bad, really. I mean, I get how people can hate him, because he is a total asshole, but I’m, like, ninety-six percent sure it’s a defense mechanism. He’s pretty cool if you don’t take anything he says personally.” 

“Awww, you’re totally into him!” Cao Ling cooed. 

Despite yourself, you could feel your cheeks warming. “Maaaaaybe…~” 

“Wooooowww,” slurred Kei Hunan, who apparently was still paying attention while slumped over and restrained by two grown adults. “Are you gonna marry him?” 

A small electric shock zapped your heart. Like your own personal Zidian. (Damn it!) 

“Shh, don’t say things like that,” you cringed. “Don’t give people rumor fodder.” 

“We’re in a private room, who’s gonna overhear?"

“—Besides, I barely know the guy. I’m working on it, but still.”

“He gave you a super expensive-looking present, though?” Jing Mingyu pointed out. His hand crept toward your waist where the qiankun pouch sat, and you smacked it. 

Chang Yuanzi, still baffled by that development, asked, “Are you sure… uhh… I mean, is there really no reason he did that?” Fidgeting with his now-destroyed plate of mostly uneaten food, he scrunched his face a bit, studying you. “He doesn’t have ulterior motives, does he? Or you didn’t ask him? Or bribe him?”

“Guys, I don’t bribe every person I meet!” you huffed. It really wasn’t the time to open that bag of worms—moral dilemmas, and so on. “And I couldn’t possibly give him anything he doesn’t already have. I showed interest in bags like this one time, and he got one for me. That’s all.” 

That was not all. It was a specially commissioned spiritual device. And you weren’t going to give that information away, no matter how tempting it was! 

“It’ll be nice if he really is trying to show his interest,” Cao Ling said amiably, dimples pressed into her rosy cheeks. “As long as he’s good to you.” 

You looked down for a moment, your lips unsure which expression they wanted to make. Eventually you settled on a smile, thinking of all the different, small ways he’d touched you—because he wanted to. “I think he would be. I guess I’ll find out.~”

Chapter Text

There wasn’t much more discussion to have on full stomachs and with the sky growing dark through the window. A layer of drowsiness had overcome each person one by one, after spending the day at an acrobatics show and then gossiping for two entire shichen while stuffing yourselves. The lot of you bestowed your presents upon Cao Ling, who was shuffled to the head of the table so Kei Hunan couldn’t break shit by accident, and then your friends meandered to the private baths. 

This inn was renowned for its spa services, boasting a myriad of private spaces and all methods of rest and respite; thus, your friends went down to the baths reserved for the group, with a partition to separate the sexes. You, on the other hand, opted out. The group had pooled money to book an expensive compound off to the side of the main inn building—a room for each of you, plus a common area in the center. It was about that time where you needed to be alone for a while, and besides, you didn’t like bathing with company. Even though there was nothing to be ashamed about, you were body-shy; it was just uncomfortable to be nude in front of other people. 

Doing yourself no favors in reputation, you begged Li Anli to order a hot bath to your room… and gave her a bribe while you were at it. 

What?! You just wanted some peace and quiet while you cleaned yourself—what was wrong with that?! And you needed to get those inn tokens off your chest anyway, the ones from when you were very cutely assailed at the animal shelter. Now they’d be put to good use giving Li Anli a free-ish vacation to west Yunmeng with her husband and two kids. 

Knowing Anli, she’d make you wait out of spite for making her do you a favor, so you laid face-up in the middle of the floor for a few minutes, staring at the decorated ceiling beams. Then you sat against the wall and listened to the faint sound of entertainment drifting from the inn nearby; the window above you welcomed into the room a gentle breeze and the rustling of summertime leaves, a soothing backdrop to the distant sounds of life being lived. Music thrumming in your ears, you pondered learning another instrument, but a portable one this time. Maybe a xiao. (The instruments lying decrepit in your crafts room wept.) 

Losing track of time, your mind faded back into the present when the sound of footsteps traveled the path toward your building. The door opened to reveal Cao Ling as the first to return from the baths. 

If you were one to place bets, you would’ve earned a small sum just now; Cao Ling was the type to fret over excluding someone from the festivities. There was a reason she held half a month’s worth of parties for each life event.

“Wassup,” you drawled, waving your arm for the theater of it. “Welcome.”

She gathered a pair of cushions and joined you, handing one over so you could shimmy it under your bottom. “It’s nice to have a moment of quiet,” she said amiably. 

“Not if I can help it.” 

She did not share your devious grin, her smile always with a sunlit tenderness that plucked your heart like a qin. 

Feeling a bit warm, you pressed down on the bulge of your qiankun pouch hidden within your clothes. “I don’t know how to even start talking about… you know.” Now that you had the opportunity, embarrassment was creeping in. Having feelings was kind of the worst. 

Ever understanding, Cao Ling covered your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s my birthday. As long as you’re telling me the good stuff.”

“It’s not technically your birthday…” you said, just to be contrarian. 

She rolled her eyes. “My birth month.”

“Yeah, yeah, you filthy gossip. So, day one…”

You told her the abbreviated events—the day you met Jiang Wanyin, being pushed into business with his sect, that one disagreement that haunted your memory, and so on. It grew hard to articulate yourself, energy flagging as evening encroached; you knew you were rambling, but this was the stuff of Cao Ling’s dreams, listening to her friends yap about their love lives. When it came time to tell her about the chance meeting at the animal shelter, you managed to catch a second wind, becoming emphatic and gesticulating with your hands. 

“It was so fucking cute, A-Ling,” you complained. With the loud volume of your voice and how heavily you were leaning into her, you might as well have been drinking. “He was just fucking sitting there? Surrounded by puppies?! I was gonna explode. And he let me stay, too! Why would he do that if he didn’t like me? Check and mate.”

This tirade was also an excuse to bring up all the points in your favor, indicating that Jiang Wanyin indeed held some fondness for you. You had to cope somehow!

“Plus, y’know, he got me this bag for no reason. His excuse was that he was annoyed seeing me carry all my stuff, but he only found that out at the shelter.” You rubbed your cheek on Cao Ling’s sturdy shoulder. “He’s so full of shit. Oh, and apparently he writes to his nephew about me!”

“Wow,” said Cao Ling, very appropriately.  

“You’re telling me,” you grouched. “And on top of all that, he’s way out of my league.”

“Oh, come on,” Cao Ling sighed, accustomed to your endless self-deprecations. “If his personality is as bad as you say it is, then I’m sure it all balances out. You’re a catch, babe.”

“I know, I’m super hot and my personality is amazing,” you drawled. “But for real—he’s a sect leader, and his cultivation’s strong, and he’s funny—not on purpose, but still! And he’s smart, and keeps teaching me stuff even though he insults me every time, and he’s just so pretty… the list goes on. How do I stand a chance? I haven’t been useful to society since… ever, really. All I do is give random people money whenever it makes things convenient for me. Wanyin is just…” A sigh welled from deep in your chest, weighing your whole head until it dropped into your hands. “He’s really cool. And I’m some loser.” 

Predictably, Cao Ling offered more words of encouragement, but you weren’t quite at the point where you could believe them. Fishing for your fan hidden in your robes, you held it limp in your hand while you listened halfheartedly to your friend. 

“I just don’t know what to do,” you admitted, squeezing your fan in fist. “I like him, but he’s got, like, at least thirty years of extreme trauma messing him up, and I don’t know if he’ll ever get over it. I mean, I know that’s not how it works—let me put it this way.” Fidgeting on your pillow, you didn’t have the courage to look at Cao Ling. “He literally asked me if I want to court him, and I said no in case it would’ve scared him off. I mean, I do want to be his friend, and I’ll leave it there if that’s what he’s comfortable with, but I feel like he’ll freak out if he finds out I want more. So, yeah, then he said marriage is useless and basically implied that no one on the planet has ever had a happy marriage. Like…?!” 

Frustration and fondness mixed into a frothy concoction that made your chest fizz. Whipping your head around, you gestured frenetically with your fan. “What am I supposed to do with that?! I argued with him about it, ’cause that’s stupid as shit, but doesn’t that mean I don’t have a chance?!” 

Lips parted in surprise, Cao Ling managed to say, “You’re right. That is pretty unreasonable.” 

“He’s like that sometimes.” You sighed. “Y’know, I don’t think any of you guys would like him if you met him. He really does have just the worst attitude.” 

Covering your burning face, you blurted, “Am I weird? Ugh, I’m so fucking weird. I don’t usually like mean guys, but he’s just so… I don’t know. It feels like he doesn’t mean it. Or,” you corrected, “he has good points to make, but he says it as rude as possible and doesn’t even realize. But most of the time, I swear he is reasonable—he’s just kind of an asshole.”

Turning to Cao Ling with wide eyes, you entreated, “Am I going in circles?”

“Slightly,” said Cao Ling, the honesty somewhat comforting. “I’m just a bit surprised. You’re usually more reluctant to like someone.”

Caught red-handed, you groaned to yourself. “Yeah, I usually hate catching feelings, don’t I? Well, feelings suck.”

Cao Ling just looked at you patiently until you folded. 

“… But I really like being around him,” you mumbled. “That’s so sappy, uuuuuugh, just stab me already.”

“No knives.”

“Stab me with my fan. Anywhere you please.”

She pried your fan from your loose fingers and gently tapped it on your forehead.

You scowled playfully. “You need to be meaner.”

“I don’t think I do,” Cao Ling grinned. 

Noticing that your friend’s hair was beginning to curl as it dried, you took the opportunity to tend to it. Standing up to retrieve your comb from your room, you hopped around on prickling feet until your nerves decided to resume cooperating, then settled behind Cao Ling. 

As you tugged the comb through her damp locks, a wave of nostalgia muted your spirits. 

“I wish Anning had been able to come,” you lamented aloud. 

Aside from her being a good friend you hadn’t seen in a while, if she had been up to going to the baths, that would’ve provided a nice excuse to be there, helping her in and out of the water, maybe washing her hair. And if she hadn’t been up to it, that would’ve meant company while everyone else cleaned up, alleviating the pressure from Cao Ling to leave the baths early. But it was useless pondering hypotheticals—Shen Anning had suffered a flare-up of her illness, and was forced to stay home. 

“I know,” Cao Ling said sadly. She’d delivered the news earlier when everyone first gathered. “We’ll have to visit her next time.” 

“If we can find a good excuse… and plan ahead three years.” You finished neatening your friend’s hair, having woven the long portion into a braid for sleep, and gave your knees a break by returning to your cushion beside her. Whether Cao Ling would wake up with her layered bangs a bird’s nest, that wasn’t your business, but it would be your entertainment. 

Shaking her head wryly, Cao Ling said, “Maybe if Kang Mei ends up back in the country.”

Ah, yes. The woman who notoriously vanished off the map for years at a time since you were teens. 

“So you’re telling me…” Replacing the comb with your fan for dramatic effect, you fluttered it in front of your mouth, your eyes comically round. “She’s still out there somewhere?! Her heart has yet to give out?” 

(Jokes held an element of truth—Kang Mei had a heart condition that she willfully chose to ignore.)

Cao Ling laughed, crow’s feet pressed into the corners of her eyes. “If she’s made it this long with all her stunts, and my mom hasn’t gotten any letters…”

You started to fan yourself, the breeze refreshing even with the chilly evening air from the ajar window. “If she wants to keep putting herself in active danger, I don’t know what else to tell you…” You fanned Cao Ling too, watching her bangs flutter as you helped them dry at a slug’s pace rather than a snail’s.

“Either way…” Cao Ling made a gesture for your fan, running her fingers across the bamboo slats while inspecting the amateur craftsmanship. “I don’t know where she is—otherwise I would’ve invited her.” 

“Mm.”

Oddly, Cao Ling hesitated. “You know… I also invited Sima Xu. He couldn’t come either.” 

That made you pause too. It wasn’t a huge reveal, since Sima Xu was family friends with Cao Ling, but she watched you almost nervously. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you sighed. “It’s been, like, five years. And, if you recall, he didn’t want to marry me, either. It’s not awkward because of the attempt to set us up, it’s awkward because we don’t talk to each other.” You patted Cao Ling’s arm. “Mutually. Respectfully.”

Reservations assuaged, Cao Ling relaxed. “I’m glad it wouldn’t have been awkward if he did manage to get out of his duties… but there’s always next time.” 

She brought you into a hug, and you got the message—she was close to retiring for the evening. Resting your chin on her shoulder, you felt that hunger for touch widen its pit in your chest. The bed would be cold tonight. 

“Just stay childless for a couple more years so I don’t have to worry about you in the meantime, okay?” you heckled.

“I’ll do my best,” Cao Ling said dryly. 

Yes, it was a selfish request, but she knew you wouldn’t actually hold her to it. Her husband was a good man, proudly on the same page as Cao Ling in terms of waiting until the day they were both ready for children. In the end, you only feared for the consequences of childbirth; even Kei Hunan had undergone complications with her twins. 

“Just do whatever you want, okay?” you said as she withdrew from the embrace. “As long as you don’t die.” 

“Who’s dying?” Ai Mo asked drowsily as he trudged through the door, a towel draped over his wet, scraggly hair. 

“Nobody, I should hope.” 

“All of us, someday,” Jing Mingyu said forlornly as he trailed behind Ai Mo. He shut the door behind him and slumped onto another of the scattered cushions.

Glancing between them, Cao Ling said, “Don’t tell me you left Yuanzi to drown in there.” 

“Topical,” you drawled. 

“Like you didn’t leave Kei Hunan to drown on your side,” Ai Mo said without thinking. 

“I think you’re forgetting someone very important,” you pointed out, brows lifted. 

There was a pause while Ai Mo did a mental head count, then frowned at you two. “Wait, yeah. Why’d you make Anli babysit the drunk lady? She deserves a break more than either of you!” 

His pointed glance at you received an eyeroll. “Ah, shut it, Little Mo.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, would you look at that,” you said peppily as the door slid open, a pair of workers hauling in a tub, with a few more heaving steaming buckets of water behind them. You stood and stretched, smacking the center of your back with your fist until your spine felt less like a fishing rod that had been in storage for ten years. “I’m going for my own bath now, so nobody bother me.” 

Waving lazily at the group, you turned heel and wandered toward your room, opening the door and holding out a courteous hand for the men to place and fill your bath. 

“Don’t bother coming back for the tub. Just take it tomorrow after I leave,” you instructed the workers as a curtain of steam billowed from the pooling water. To your friends, you wiggled your fingers and said, “See ya in the morning.~” 

Despite the farewell, your friends’ idle chatter was only dampened when you shut the door. Shedding your clothes, you listened to Ai Mo sigh about taking his wife to hot springs, and allowed yourself a soft smile, then an indulgent frown. 

Someday you would have someone like that—someone you could share yourself with. You hoped. 

You really hoped. 

As you relaxed into the tub, the water gradually going from hot to warm as you steeped like tea leaves, you idly wondered if there was a talisman that could keep a bath hot for as long as you wanted. You’d have to ask Wei Wuxian later…

~

The next morning, you had breakfast with your friends and wandered around town with them. The tearful goodbyes began after lunch, staggered based on the distance each person had to cover to return home, until finally you were off in your carriage. 

The only people you brought with you were a young-ish stablehand, and the man who drove your carriage, Lao-Xing. He was one of several drivers who carted your family around, and he’d been employed by your parents since before you were born. It was a simple pleasure to stick your head out the carriage window and hold a conversation with him—your usual entertainment, aside from people-watching and singing to yourself. 

Today, however… your late-night sleeping habits were not conducive to the early hour your friends needed you awake this morning. So, drained but happy, you kept quiet and watched the scenery roll by.

Due to the extended nature of this trip, being days instead of hours, you were comfortable leaving Lao-Xing to his companionship with the youth who sat beside him. Listening to them chat, the middle-aged man offering his well-traveled wisdom in exchange for long speeches about horse health, your mind drifted. 

And, when the sun was approaching the horizon, your consciousness drifted, too.

~

When you awoke, it was dark. 

It took an extra moment to drag yourself awake—a deep, slogging sensation of pulling your mind out of mud. This trip must’ve taken more out of you than you’d thought. 

Based on the pangs in your stomach, it was well past dinnertime. You frowned to yourself, rubbing your eyes groggily; shouldn’t you have arrived at the next inn by now? 

Lao-Xing and the stablehand weren’t talking up front. It struck you as a little odd, since navigating in the dark was probably the type of skill one would need advice on the most. But what did you know? 

Shifting the curtain draped over the window, you peeked outside. The carriage was trundling through a forest, the half-moon bright in the night sky, seeming to flicker through the leafy canopy. With the outside exposed to your senses, you noticed something strange. 

What should’ve been the soft thumping of a single horse’s hooves on the path was instead several. 

Chills spread through your body, first from your heart, until every limb was tingling and numb. Slowly, breaths deep and purposeful as your pulse picked up speed, you tilted your head out the left-side window and craned your neck. 

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, and another moment to comprehend what you were seeing. 

Three additional horses led your entourage, treading silently with their dark-clothed riders. The path was unclear, wheels rolling on matted grass instead of well-traveled dirt.

And the person who sat in the driver’s seat of your carriage was not Lao-Xing.

Chapter Text

The man who’d taken your carriage driver’s place had a pudding jaw and a short, scratchy beard; around his neck was a scarf that he kept fidgeting with, the color hard to distinguish at this time of night. He didn’t notice that you were awake, nor did the people riding in the lead. For a long, silent minute, you stared at them, watching as the strange man yawned, seemingly bored while carting you deeper into the forest. 

For the sake of maintaining subtlety while you gathered your bearings, you leaned back into the carriage. Your mind was blank, heart pounding in your whole body, pumping rhythmically in your fingers and your thighs and your cheeks. 

Obviously, you’d been kidnapped. When, you didn’t know. How they’d managed it without waking you up, you had no clue. What they’d done with Lao-Xing and the stablehand, you were afraid to find out. 

Someone normal might take the opportunity to make a silent escape, but unfortunately, you were you. Aside from a deficit in stealth, you wanted information—you lacked the craftiness and quick-thinking to outsmart anyone, and your tongue was candid and sluggish, not conducive to talking your way out of a perilous situation. Your best weapon was being willfully obtuse, lowering the possibility of them harming you and increasing the likelihood of them humoring your questions.

Shit, damn it, fuck, you had to do this on an empty fucking stomach. 

It was a small comfort that the danger hadn’t hit your nervous system yet. Though you were numb all over, you were calm. 

Leaning out the window again, you quietly called, “Hey.” 

The man in the seat hummed in acknowledgement, then did a double take. Whipping his head around, he stared back at you for a second, absorbing your blank expression, then pasted an extremely fake smile on his face. 

“Hello, little miss,” he said sweetly. Instant ick. “I’m sure you must be confused. Don’t worry, we’re not going to hurt you.” 

There was a lot to unpack already, but you basically ignored him. “Where are we?” 

You kept your voice soft and neutral, and this managed to lower the man’s guard somewhat. Meanwhile, the people on horseback ahead of you didn’t bother looking when you spoke; they probably (rightfully) didn’t view you as a threat. 

When the man informed you of your approximate location, you resisted the urge to bash your skull against the carriage wheel. One side effect of being a lazy Miss who rarely traveled was that you had no sense of direction. You didn’t know how far off the path you were, or how to get back home. 

Next order of business: what they wanted from you. 

Starting out slow, you asked, “What did you do with my drivers?” 

The kidnapper bobbed his head understandingly, as if that could placate you. “They’re simply taking a nap with my comrade up there.” 

He pointed to one of the people on horseback, and you saw with a sick feeling in your gut two slumped figures across the saddle. Again the question arose of how they’d managed to knock out two grown men without making any noise. 

“No need to worry, Miss,” he repeated. “We’ll get you and your men home safe and sound once we reach an agreement.” 

Damn it, useless fucker! That could mean anything! 

You carefully inquired, “Do you know who I am?” 

The man’s face wrinkled like his teeth had been replaced with lime slices. “No. Should I? You ain’t with the emperor, are ya?” 

An ignorant fucker, on top of that. “No,” you answered truthfully. But at least that narrowed something down—they weren’t after your family’s money. Though that might’ve been easier. “Can I ask what the whole point of,” you gestured to the man and his comrades, “this is?” 

He hesitated for a moment. “Well, it’s not like you can fight back,” he mused. 

False: You had a knife. And a lot of suppressed rage rapidly flowing to the surface. 

Eventually he chose to humor you. “Listen, girl.” Your hackles rose. Condescending bastard! “My people happen to know you’re rather close with Sect Leader Jiang.” 

The blood drained from your vessels, body sapped into cold, motionless tree bark.

Oblivious, the man continued, “And he owes us some compensation from years past. So, you’re gonna do us a favor and behave while we negotiate with him for your freedom. Okay, missy?” 

Okay? Not fucking okay!

Jaw clenched, you forced yourself not to say anything rash. If you told him you weren’t important enough to be a hostage, he might opt to kill you and your companions. If you revealed yourself as a wealthy heir, they’d just switch the ransom to your parents. But the longer you remained on this road, the further you got from home and any hope of getting out of this situation unscathed. 

“Is there a, uh, reason you’re doing this?” you asked, tone and throat both dry. “I mean, what you’re getting out of it.”

The leaves overhead dappled your kidnapper’s profile, and through the spots of moonlight, you saw his expression darken. “What else is anything for but money?” He licked his lips. “But it’s nice givin’ that pompous bastard a little scare. See how he likes losing someone he cares about, heh heh.” 

Oh, so they were definitely planning to kill you. 

“Chun,” one of the riders on horseback called, her sharp voice a warning. 

The man named Chun rolled his eyes. “Just stay put, sweetheart. It won’t be too long once we get to our meeting place.” 

It was worth a shot. “Or,” you offered with a pained smile, “you could let me and my guys go home without a fuss?” 

Chun burst out laughing. “Nice try, little lady! We’ve already gone through the trouble, huh? Besides, we already sent a special note to your man, so he’ll be reaching our meeting place just about after we do.” 

Despite your best interests, your face scrunched. “He’s not my anything. We’re friends, but it’s not like that.” 

Yet, you added in your head, selfishly. 

A derisive snort met your ears. “Yeah, sure, Miss. If Jiang Cheng can favor a woman, we’ll show him just what happens—”

“Chun.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, I fuckin’ get it,” he snapped. 

After that, Chun didn’t entertain more chatting. 

Taking the hint, you withdrew into the carriage. Jitters began to rattle your bones. These people had some sort of vendetta against Jiang Wanyin, and there was a decent chance they were going to try hurting you once you arrived at the meeting place. Things were going to get complicated if they found out the hard way that you healed quickly. Especially if Jiang Wanyin took a while to come to your rescue…

A new trickle of anxiety bled into the whirlpool already in your heart. 

What if Jiang Wanyin didn’t come? What if you weren’t worth the trouble, and you’d have to think of a way out yourself? 

No. You had to have faith in him—in not allowing a civilian to be harmed.

Still, he could be late. There was no telling what these people had planned. 

You could feel yourself slipping already, the halves of your mind sheer like ice, cut at an angle, unbalanced. What could you possibly do? You didn’t know where you were, didn’t know how to fight. Didn’t know where to run. Didn’t know anything. You never knew anything. 

Sickness swelled in your throat, and you allowed your body to freeze, shutting down until your eyes, ears, and breath remained. 

Let them take you where they pleased. Cooperate or face torture. Your parents always told you to fight at all costs, but that was when you were a child, constantly within shouting distance of a trusted adult. What could you do when they’d already slithered through your guard without a moment to realize before you were surrounded?

It was your fault. You knew it was your fault, somehow. You deserved to wait for the punishment that came. 

Through the swaying curtains, the moon caught on something pale and yellow on the floor of your carriage.

Eyes suddenly coming back into focus, you jerked in a breath and looked at the unfamiliar yellow scrap. Carefully, you picked it up. 

It was a withered talisman paper. Their color was usually rich, their cinnabar marks usually bright—but this was flimsy, its yellow washed out, and not just from the pale moonlight. 

You stared at it for a good, long while. This must mean something, but your emotions were torn between the verge of panic and retreating too deep into your chest to even feel. 

Taking an intentional breath, you allowed yourself a minute to calm down. Listening to the rustle of trees, the thumps of horses’ hooves. Rubbing your own hands, palm to fingertip, left to right. You could freak out later, when you were either safe or in mortal peril. 

It would be okay.

When you looked back at the talisman, your head was clear enough to somewhat recognize the markings. One section was a common sleep-inducing spell—one you’d tried on yourself a few times to force a sleep schedule. The rest, you didn’t recall ever learning. 

You really, really wished you hadn’t half-assed your cultivation studies. 

But it was enough to guess. 

That small bit of intuition ignited your hope. Maybe Lao-Xing and the stablehand weren’t dead after all. 

On the other hand, they were another reason you couldn’t try sneaking out to escape. You couldn’t just leave them. 

So, if these were sleep talismans, and not killer ones or something—could you plant some on these kidnappers, then wake up Lao-Xing to navigate to safety? Or, if he was truly incapacitated, could you run until you reached the nearest town? Would your stamina allow it? Could you even pull off a scheme like that? 

But this talisman was so shriveled; if they’d used it on you, and it hadn’t stayed effective for whatever reason, it probably couldn’t be reused. And you didn’t carry talisman paper on you! 

Improvise. 

Silently, barely breathing, you moved your hand under your robe and used the fabric to hide the light of summoning your spare paper and writing tool. The sheets of paper were a bit big, but they’d have to do; you couldn’t remember if the paper’s shape or material mattered. 

At least if this didn’t work, you probably wouldn’t die from whatever they did to you. Though, you were deeply not fond of torture. Maybe if you went insane and killed these people, you could escape anyway, ha ha. 

Angling the pages on your lap to be lit by the moon, you copied the markings from the talisman onto your papers. Four total. The charcoal was shaky in your hand, from the unsteady terrain and your own trembling. 

If this didn’t work, these people and whatever other accomplices you were headed for would definitely punish you for trying to scheme. Same if you tried to run and were caught. Worse if they brought Lao-Xing and the boy into it and hurt them for your failure. 

Forlornly, you wondered if you’d even be able to use force. You had a fair amount of muscle on you, but you’d never been in a fight before. Neither had you been in a situation like this. Sometimes, on your bad days, you’d be swept up in a cycle of these types of thoughts—people hurting you, people being hurt around you, how you’d react, whom you’d curse, how you’d fight. 

Thinking obsessively about hypotheticals was still different from doing. And right now, you were faced with the very real possibility of “kill or be killed.” 

In any other scenario, you would’ve sat quietly and waited for things to work themselves out. Being proactive wasn’t your strong suit. Trusting yourself wasn’t your strong suit. 

Could you do it? If it came down to it, could you stab someone? Break their bones? Could you kill one of these people?

Did they have families? Did they need the ransom money for survival? Had Jiang Wanyin needlessly harmed them in the past? Were their reasons justified?

Shit, damn it, fuck, you weren’t built to make these moral decisions! 

You felt as if your ribs were shaking, breath difficult but possible if you focused on it. Discreetly returning the writing tool into your qiankun pouch and adding the used talisman just in case, you wiped the charcoal dust on your pant leg, hid your makeshift copies in the skirts of your robe, and stuck your head outside. 

“Are we close?” you asked Chun. For good measure, you added, “I kind of have to pee.” 

“Ugh.” Chun’s eyeroll was practically audible. “Not too much further, Miss. Less than an incense time. Hold it in, yeah?” 

“Whatever,” you mumbled, not needing much acting skill to sound nervous for what was in store. 

You allowed another minute to pass; the first layer of your body was relaxed, while the inside layers were tense. If they brought you all the way to their meeting place, you could end up surrounded. But it would be a challenge to get the talismans on everybody from a distance, and moving, at that. 

Clenching your fist, you decided, fuck it. 

One talisman in your left hand and three in your right, you leaned through the window just enough to get a good view of Chun, scratching his jaw and yawning again. 

Th-thump.

Th-thump.

Eyes unblinking, you infused the talisman with your qi and willed it to latch onto Chun. 

The talisman obeyed. 

In a blur of black energy, the paper flew from your hand and hit its target, right on the man’s hip where you were staring.

Your heart pounded, face prickling and numb as you hoped beyond hope that it activated. 

A breath after it hit, Chun slumped to the side. 

Ten seconds, tops, before your now-driverless horse acted up and the others noticed.

Leaning further out, you stared down the horseback riders in a triangle formation. Left, closest to you, holding your unconscious companions. Hit the right and leading riders first. Quickly. 

Eyes locked on the kidnapper to the right, you let your talisman fly. Without waiting for it to land, you did the same with the leader of the formation. 

“Hey!” 

Too slow! 

Two of four horses became disturbed by their riders suddenly falling to the ground, bucking and whinnying, and your vision narrowed into a tunnel. Final talisman clutched in hand, you fumbled for your emergency knife while you had the chance. You kicked the carriage door open, vaguely aware of the final kidnapper yanking their horse to the side and dismounting. 

“What the fuck did you do?!” a man’s voice shouted, but it sounded garbled through the blood rushing in your ears. 

Landing on the ground from the moving carriage, your knees buckled, and you hit your hands and knees on the muddy grass. You stumbled to your feet and were instantly seized by the kidnapper. He continued to berate you, grabbing and shaking and trying to wrangle you into submission. In a last bout of desperate determination, you slammed the wrinkled, muddy talisman into his side and poured your qi into it. 

The kidnapper fell against you, then tumbled to the ground, unconscious. 

Flooded with adrenaline, your chest heaved, nearly dropping your knife in this moment of dizzy relief. 

It wasn’t over. Kidnappers could wake up. Had to find safety. Had to bring your people. 

At least the horse who carried the two incapacitated men clearly didn’t give a fuck, simply standing there as you dragged their limp bodies to the ground. Another flood of relief made your limbs buzz upon seeing that their hands and feet were bound with rope. Dead people didn’t need to be restrained. You handled them as carefully as you could, hauling them each a bit further off the path to lean them against a tree. 

The carriage had stopped not long after you departed, your horse waiting anxiously ahead. The final two horses had run off in a fit of confusion, vanished into the forest. The two kidnappers who’d fallen were further back—large, unmoving lumps in the grass. 

Kneeling in front of Lao-Xing, you squinted in the darkness and checked for injuries. None were visible, and pasted on his chest was a lightly shimmering talisman that matched the one presumably used on you. 

First you used your knife to cut the men free, sawing through the ropes with a bit of struggle and increasing trepidation. You knew you had to be careful not to cut them by accident, but the insecurities usually laying in hibernation were now pushing you to rush—you hadn’t practiced cultivation properly in ages, you didn’t know how to draw talismans, you just put all three of you in danger, those kidnappers wouldn’t stay down for long, everything was worse because of you.

Itching down to the roots of your teeth, you slapped your cheek to snap out of it, then slapped the other side for symmetry. 

Moving to tug the talisman off of your navigator, you scowled when you were met with resistance. Concentrating a bit of qi into your hands, you yanked the talisman from his chest, and watched as the paper turned dim and flimsy in your hand. A moment later, Lao-Xing stirred with a small groan. 

You called his name a few times, blinking back a wave of emotions as his eyes fluttered. “Are you okay? Does anything feel broken?” 

“Ungh… Miss…?” the man mumbled, doing his best to regain his bearings. “Are you… alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about me, are you injured?” you asked urgently, itching to finish your escape. If he couldn’t stand, then you’d… you’d just carry him to the carriage, then have the younger man drive. Or you could figure out how to lead the horse. Anything.

Lao-Xing grunted, rolling his wrists and sitting up a bit straighter against the thick tree trunk. “I’ll be fine in a moment. Please forgive these old bones…” 

“Yeah… okay… that’s okay, I’ll just… yeah…” 

In a fluster, you stepped toward the stablehand to wake him up.

Suddenly, Lao-Xing gasped. “Behind you, Miss—!” 

Whipping around, you pulled your knife from your sleeve and gripped it tightly, pointing it at the rapidly, angrily approaching Chun. 

“Stop!” you shrieked, decorum fleeing like a startled flock. “I’m serious! Stop right now!” 

But Chun did not stop. Of course he didn’t. 

“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve, girl,” he snarled, advancing on you with no regard for your weapon. “I don’t care how you pulled off that little trick, but I’m not going through all this trouble for nothing!” 

Chun lunged. 

Your mind went blank. 

Thud. 

At the same time as he tackled you, your knife swung—feet braced into the leaf-strewn grass, you plunged the blade into his back and resisted his weight with all your might. A grunt and another burst of force from the man, and you were knocked onto your back. 

Chun struggled to trap your arms, but you thrashed, hatred surging into your veins and coming out in the vicious drag of your knife through cloth and flesh. You stabbed him again and felt that his groan of pain wasn’t enough. He grabbed the lower half of your face, sneering down with bloodshot eyes, but you twisted your head and writhed until you could clamp your teeth on his hand. The gritty sensation of crushed bone sprang tears to your eyes, blood smearing into your mouth and making you retch even as you ripped out a chunk of his flesh. Hissing in anger and pain, Chun aimed for your ribs—they crunched, and resealed the moment his weight was lifted. A scream split the night, and you could barely recognize your own voice as you continued to strike the heavy man on top of you. Rage built and built and built, you fucking hated him, hated his condescension, hated that he abducted you and harmed your staff and did it for money and seemed to crave Jiang Wanyin’s pain. 

The world was a whirl and a tangle of limbs and a heavy body driving you into the dirt, and you were a fist with a blade gripped tight, blood wet and pungent as you slashed and screamed and choked and snapped and stabbed—

A bright flash erupted through the trees, and you didn’t have a second to react before your assailant was snatched away with a crackle of purple electricity. 

Ah. 

All you managed to do was wobble to your feet before you slumped against the nearest tree, taking a shuddering breath and heaving your sour stomach until you felt light again. Leaning your forehead against the tough bark, your head pounded with noise as dozens of feet thundered against the forest floor and a familiar voice shouted what might have been orders. 

You didn’t know. You didn’t care. It was over. 

He’d come for you.

Chapter Text

Eyes closed in exhaustion, you barely registered the calls of your name until someone’s hands landed on your shoulders. Unconsciously, you flinched, knife moving on the offensive once more, but one of those hands snatched your wrist and disarmed you in half a second. 

You blinked up at Jiang Wanyin, his face a bit hazy and cast in shadow. Oh, some of that haze was your hair, which used to be in a haphazard bun for ease of traveling, but had not endured the scuffle; you aimlessly swiped at the loose strands until they were out of the way, withered leaves and dirt crumbling onto your fingers as you stared at your savior. The furrow in his brow was deep, the slope of his mouth severe as he gripped you. 

“Can you hear me?” he asked urgently. “Are you injured?” 

Despite yourself, your lips turned in a dizzy grin. It was so similar to what you’d asked Lao-Xing a few minutes ago. “Yeah,” you said, surprising yourself when your voice came out thin and hoarse. 

His eyes went lower, widening in shock. You looked down to check what he was looking at, and saw ugly smears on your robe that would’ve been red in better light.

“Uh,” you muttered, “don’t worry, it’s not mine. Probably.” Swallowing, you found your mouth and throat were completely dry. The tang of that man’s blood still tainted your parched tongue, a nauseating mingle with your stomach acid. “Hold—hold on…” 

Shakily, you pulled at your ruined clothes and spirited your water flask from your qiankun pouch. After a meager attempt to rinse the filth from your hands, you swished some water in your mouth to dilute the blood and bile, spit it out, and gulped down the remaining contents. 

You meant to lower the flask, but your fingers trembled, and it dropped to the ground. Hm. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, but Jiang Wanyin stopped you. He used his qi to lift the fallen flask and knife, then replaced them in your qiankun pouch himself. 

“Don’t exert yourself,” he said sternly. His hand was still on you. Awesome. That was really good. 

You tried to smile at him, uncertain what your muscles were actually doing. “Thanks.” 

Jiang Wanyin searched your face, his frown deepening. Uh oh. 

But he only said, “Stay here for a moment.” 

A small something lurched in your stomach. “Ah, no, wait a sec.” When he paused, you flapped your hand toward the tree where Lao-Xing and the stablehand were still propped up. “My carriage driver, and his, uh, assistant. Can you guys check that they’re okay?” 

His eyes followed yours. “Just two men?” 

You didn’t like whatever his voice was doing, but your head was too bloated with air to articulate it. “Uh-huh.”

When Jiang Wanyin looked back at you, his expression was twisted in irritation. Ah, so handsome. His face was gonna get stuck like that, and you wouldn’t even mind. “You didn’t bring any guards? Are you for real?”

Now feeling irritated yourself, but irritated through a human-sized fishbowl, you gave him a bland look. “Usually don’t. Can you get on with it?” Realizing your tone had become rude, you added, “Please.”

Still with that handsome-annoyed twist to his lips, Jiang Wanyin stared at you, then gave a brief nod and disappeared from your side. 

Closing your eyes again, you listened mindlessly to him commanding his sect and didn’t bother to absorb anything he actually said. A bit of space made everything feel simultaneously weightless and heavy enough to pull you underground, but at least your feelings retreated back to that comfortable numbness. You were so fucking done with using your brain right now; you just wanted to go home. 

“Guniang,” came Jiang Wanyin’s voice again, however long later. 

Opening your eyes, you turned your head to look at him, smile crooked. “Wanyin,” you returned, so he would know you were okay. 

His face did something in response to that, but you were completely fried, so it bounced straight off your eyeballs without processing.

Approaching, he said, “Your two men are lightly injured, and they’ll be okay after a bit of treatment. I brought a senior healer, and she’ll make sure they’re alright to move around. We found four cultivators who’d conspired for this abduction, and a base with more people about a li away. My disciples are clearing it out—you have my word, we’ll take them all to Lotus Pier for punishment.” 

Listening and only somewhat absorbing, you looked at him blankly. 

Jiang Wanyin’s expression tightened, then purposely relaxed. “Was it just those four who had taken you?” he asked, going out of his way to be gentle. Whatever remained functioning within your heart squirmed.

It took particular attention to keep your words coherent. “I think so.” 

His hand reached for you again, and you watched it, gaze vacant. He dropped it instead of committing. Coward. 

With a quiet, frustrated sigh, Jiang Wanyin said, “Unless you have any important information about those abductors, we don’t need your statement now. You can get some rest first.”

“M’kay.” 

Footsteps trampled back and forth on the grassy terrain a few meters away. You just kept looking at Jiang Wanyin, and he watched you, wearing a strange expression. 

Eventually, he said, “My head disciple will handle this. I’ll do one last sweep, then I’ll take you home.” 

“Mmh. Thanks.”

That wasn’t even a hundredth of what you wanted to say to him, but a fog was rapidly filling your head, and you couldn’t be bothered to fend it off. 

Before he left for that sweep he mentioned, a disciple you didn’t recognize came running. “Zongzhu!” 

Straightening up, Jiang Wanyin looked expectantly for news. 

“We cleaned off the papers on those two women,” the disciple reported. “They’re a bit strange, but Liang-shijie confirmed—they’re definitely stasis talismans!”

Jiang Wanyin went still. His disciple looked at him, anticipating guidance. 

A little proud of yourself, you waved your hand for their attention, needing to lean even heavier on the tree for support. “Hi. I made those. Improvise, adapt, overcome, and whatnot.” 

You watched with dazed enjoyment as the furrow in Jiang Wanyin’s brows deepened like caterpillars trying to smooch. 

“You know how to write a stasis talisman,” he said, not really a question—a statement of disbelief. 

Shaking your head, you explained, “They put those on my guys.” Thumb pointing at the now-abandoned tree. “And one on me, too. I just copied it as best I could. Didn’t wanna be a sitting duck, you know?” At the moment, you felt more like a duck being sloshed around by a deep-sea earthquake. 

“They put a stasis talisman on you?” Expression hardening, Jiang Wanyin looked between you and his disciple, who’d become confused by the conversation. “Let me see it.” 

The demand was directed at both of you, either of you. Whoever had a talisman to give. When you saw the disciple shake his head, you summoned the defunct talisman and handed it to Jiang Wanyin. 

He studied it seriously for a while. An extremely bright light went off in the distance, nearly whiting out your vision for five seconds before it faded. Neither of the men reacted, so it was probably fine. 

“This is designed to heighten its effectiveness on anything without usable qi,” Jiang Wanyin said finally. “That includes people. That must be why it didn’t work on you.” 

He gave you a side-eye, clearly questioning how you got kidnapped if you weren’t knocked out. Bearing a sheepish and self-deprecating grin, you said, “I was already asleep. Guess it kept me asleep for a while. Sorry.” 

“Why the fuck are you apologizing,” Jiang Wanyin grumbled, and it was so familiar, so normal, that you felt your face burn, cheeks and eyes stinging. 

Jiang Wanyin gave you another odd look. He should stop doing that before you jumped at him or something. “Anyway,” he muttered, “you should count yourself damn lucky. Let me—”

“I think I need a walk,” you interrupted, beholden to the strange, gaping sensation splitting a chasm in your head. “I’m gonna walk. Just for a minute.” 

“Guniang, you’re in no state to go wandering off in the woods by yourself,” Jiang Wanyin protested. Either your head was more fucked than you realized, or he actually sounded more worried than annoyed, for once. 

Regardless, you waved him off. Whatever was happening in your body, in the phantom holes you suddenly found littering your organs, you needed to deal with it alone. “I won’t go far. Just a minute.” 

Fists clenching at his side, Jiang Wanyin hesitated. Your eyes drifted to his hand as it moved to cover the other. Something wasn’t right… 

Oh! “Where’s Zidian?” 

“Electrocuting the guy you stabbed a bunch,” the disciple inserted himself helpfully.

“Huh.” 

“Just wait a damn second to take your walk,” Jiang Wanyin snapped. Whirling around, he released a sharp bellow: “Fang Xianshi!” 

… Eight, nine heartbeats later, his head disciple landed in front of your little trio. “Yes, Zongzhu?” 

Jiang Wanyin took a second too long to reply for some reason, so Fang Lin took it upon herself to assess the situation. Her eyes met yours, and she smiled at you, which you returned with a jelly-like wave of your hand. Attention shifting from her sect leader for the moment, she stepped up to you and checked your vitals, pupil dilation, and meridians. From your peripherals, you saw Jiang Wanyin tense, but you were busy being gently manhandled by Fang Lin and following her brisk instructions. 

Her nimble hands waved away the straggling hairs that drifted into your dirty face, and you got annoyed enough that you ripped out the pitiful remains of your ponytail and whisked the hairtie into your qiankun pouch. (If this bit of cultivation was noteworthy for her, she took it completely in stride.) Within seconds, your hair was tossed around by the breeze—chilled from the night and incoming autumn—and you reversed your decision, retrieving the tie once Fang Lin had finished. 

“Very good,” she said, somehow confident and correct that Jiang Wanyin hadn’t done those check-ups already. In the meantime, you yanked your hair into a hasty ponytail, just needing it out of the way. Looking at her fuming sect leader, Fang Lin asked, “Are we taking her statement here or at the sect?” 

A vein pulsed in Jiang Wanyin’s temple. “She’s still in shock. She’s going home.”

Fang Lin’s sculpted eyebrows lifted. “Her mind seems clear enough to me. We should ask at least a few questions to—”

“I didn’t call you to take over my job!” he snapped, and Fang Lin instantly deferred, bowing with her hands cupped and her gaze lowered. Releasing a sharp breath, Jiang Wanyin ordered, “Handle the proceedings from here. I’ll oversee her wellbeing and take her home.” 

A snicker burst from your lips. Three sets of eyes turned to stare at you. 

“Because,” you giggled, “he said he didn’t want you to take over his job… and then asked you to take over his job… hehehehe…” 

“Is she really okay?” the miscellaneous disciple asked uncertainly. 

“No,” Jiang Wanyin snapped. 

“I’m fine,” you asserted through some more giggles. Ah, maybe your voice was a little high-pitched and unhinged right now, but it was whatever. “I do wanna go home. As long as you guys, uh, take out those fuckin’ guys. That’d be great.” You gave a thumbs up. 

They continued to stare at you, and your smile became strained. “I’m gonna go on that walk now…” 

“I’m escorting you,” Jiang Wanyin insisted irritably. “Fang Xianshi, keep those bastards alive for interrogation.” 

And with that, Jiang Wanyin moved to accompany you into the forest.

Chapter Text

Fang Lin and the other disciple departed, and Jiang Wanyin turned back to glare at you as if you were being too slow. 

When you tried to step forward, an odd sensation washed into your head and limbs. It felt like the insides of your legs had vanished, leaving stiff skin and your joints at the knee. 

“Wait,” you muttered, holding up a hand for him to stop as you dug your fingers into the bark of the tree you failed to leave. A splinter pierced your skin, and you collapsed shoulder-first against the trunk so you could pick it out. 

When you looked up, Jiang Wanyin was in front of you again. What kind of teleporting powers…

“If you can’t walk, then don’t walk,” he grouched. 

“I can walk.” You pushed at his chest for no reason, and shook one leg, then the other. Stubbornly, you forced yourself to move, feeling cottony in the brain. 

Facing the empty forest straight ahead, you continued walking for a minute. Maybe thirty seconds. Time was about as wobbly as your balance at the moment, but you kept trudging forward, refusing to tip over. 

The sounds of shouting and thumping feet faded until it blended with the occasional rustles of the wind through the trees. Bit by bit, your thoughts dried into paper-thin crisps, translucent in the walls of your head. 

Your throat tightened. 

Ah, it was here. 

When you abruptly stopped walking, Jiang Wanyin snapped from behind you, “What? Are you done?” He sounded oddly defensive, like he was compensating for not having his spiritual whip on hand. 

A quiet chuckle came out with three squeezes of your ribs. Once more, your courage fled into the bushes—you covered your mouth in a futile attempt to hold on for longer, but that only reminded you of the assault from… from that man. Your lips and lungs shook, containment wearing and weakening until finally, the dam burst. 

Blindly stepping for the nearest tree, you kept away from your companion and gulped through the tears streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t really care what Jiang Wanyin thought of it, but you couldn’t stand it if he saw your crying face. You’d already caused him so much trouble, and on top of that, you had the audacity to be ugly while you broke down. Awful. Inexcusable.

Fingers clutching at your sleeves, you bunched them up and hid the lower half of your face so you could turn to him. Just to see if you’d been abandoned. 

He was still there. Stiff as the trees surrounding you, at a loss, arms hanging limp at his sides. It was clear he had even less of a clue how to comfort someone in pain, but it was alright—it didn’t hurt. If anything, you were numb. Annoyed, even, that your body couldn’t wait longer to cry. 

“Sorry,” you choked out. Thoughts bubbled from the sludge in your chest and popped before the words could form. 

This was the worst. You were the worst. How could you impose this on him? How dare you?

You turned away, throat aching with the effort to be quiet, the effort to speak. “I’m sorry, I don’t, I don’t know…” How they knew. “I’m sorry if…” It was my fault. “I’m just…” Glad you came.

The ache burned, turning everything to ash. You gave up, dropping to your knees against the sturdy tree, and you cried. Hands clutching at your face, then clawing at your robes. The pockets sewn into the skirts held several handkerchiefs, and you yanked one out, uselessly covering your face as you rubbed the run from your nose. 

In your blurry peripherals, Jiang Wanyin hesitantly approached. Not like you were a frightened animal, but more like he was the jittery one. Beneath the handkerchief, your lips contorted into a painful smile.

You managed to look up at him long enough to take in the crease in his brow and his tightly pressed lips before you had to avert your eyes. He was just too handsome, and you were beyond saving. 

“Just g-go,” you muttered between heaving breaths. The tree was a solid, steady aid as gravity began to claim you. Tucking your knees up to your chest until your belly pushed into itself, you waved your free hand to dismiss him. “I’ll jus-st be an, an eyesore. I-I’m sure you do-on’t want t-to deal wi-ith me right n-now…”

“Shut the hell up.” 

Just as stubborn a bitch as you, Jiang Wanyin took another step closer. He stood by your side, eyes drilling a hole in your skull until your brain leaked out. “I need to make sure you don’t run off and fucking… fall into a ditch or something.”

“I’m-m not go-oing anywh-where…”

“Or a straggler could come finish the job,” he said obstinately. 

A laugh twisted through your taut esophagus. “Jus-st sit do-own, dumbass.”

Though you issued the order, you refused to look at him, eyes squeezed tight as if that could wring out the ocean of tears. You heard him approach in the quiet of the night, interspersed with your shuddering breaths. Suddenly overcome with humiliation, you lifted your wrists to press into your forehead. The long, dirtied fabric of your sleeves acted as curtains, out of sight but not out of earshot. Fuck, why did you have to sound like such a child?

The quiet rustle of grass pulled you out of your head enough to realize he’d really done it. Lowering your sleeves to peek at him through red-rimmed eyes, you glimpsed the twist in his expression before hiding away once more. 

If you looked any longer, you feared you would do something incredibly stupid. 

Jiang Wanyin sat beside you in heavy silence while you cried. Your quiet, shaky breaths and sniffles punctuated the nighttime air, wiping your nose with the handkerchief every so often. Even though he remained stiff and unwelcoming, his presence, his willingness to stay…

“I,” Jiang Wanyin said, surprising you, “don’t know how to get you to finish faster.” 

This startled out a laugh. “Finish faster?” you repeated, a bit hoarse from crying, but able to speak more steadily now. “You want to help, Wanyin?” 

You knew he wasn’t going to admit it, but even the implication warmed you like a hot stone placed on your chest. 

Suddenly, you felt like doing something incredibly selfish. Maybe… you could ask him for something he wouldn’t normally indulge. Something that had only come in daydreams, something you could deny if he questioned it later. Your head felt stuffed with dandelion fuzz, and right now, you wanted nothing more than to make a wish. 

Lowering your fists to the patchy grass at the base of the tree, you gripped the earth and brought your gaze to his. 

Jiang Wanyin’s eyes were so young beneath this moon. They focused on you with barely repressed worry, shining silver like rippling water. He looked earnest in a way you didn’t expect—a sincerity that pierced your throbbing heart and filled it to bursting. 

The dandelion seeds wavered, and your head dropped. 

Even now, when you had good reason to take advantage, you wouldn’t. He didn’t deserve your selfishness.

“Can I…”

Your breath shuddered, voice croaking from the effort. All the courage it took to make this request left none to meet his eyes. 

“… Can I have your hand?” 

Even the rustling of leaves seemed to fall still. 

Heart in your throat, you kept your gaze low. “Just for a minute. Please.” 

Part of you expected him to refuse outright. Another part thought he would question you, and you would have no answer for him. 

His hand entered your peripherals. 

Shocked, your head jerked to look at it. His skin was cast in moonlight, making every part of him glow like a spirit. Your mind felt like all that rushing water had suddenly turned placid, and without a second thought, you reached for him. 

Daintily, your fingers clasped around his. Then, stuffing your handkerchief back into your pocket, you held him with both hands. Observing at first, dazed eyes trailing over the veins and sinew, graceful and strong. Finally your weakness swelled, and you brought his knuckles to your forehead and allowed your eyelids to fall shut. 

And he let you. Waited while you breathed. Accepted the silence as you grasped his hand and shuddered like a leaf in the wind. 

With his touch to ground you, all the moments of hatred and self-doubt slowed in your mind, the whirling air of a tornado beginning to disperse. Jiang Wanyin’s skin was warm against yours, flesh to separate blood and shield bone. When you squeezed his hand, it twitched as if to squeeze you back. The tiny movement felt shy to you, and your parted lips tugged in an unconscious smile. Grasping him tighter, your ridges firm on his curves, you felt the thrum of your pulses mingle, rhythms indistinguishable. 

If you touched his wrist, what else would you feel?

In the voracity of your craving, greed clawed a yawning hole in your chest. 

Touch him more. You wanted to, didn’t you? What was the harm, when he’d already offered this much? 

Your grip on his hand grew painfully tight, but he didn’t flinch. When your muscles began to tremble, you relaxed everything at once, shoulders slumped, jaw unclenched, thumbs brushing the knobs of his knuckles. 

Whatever you desired from him, you could not force it.

Lowering your hands at long last, you released him, and he withdrew in a flash. Your body still hazed between normalcy and the endless, aching fog of upset, but it was better than before. Bearable, now.

“Thank you for coming,” you whispered. 

There was more to say, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak it into existence quite yet. 

You knew you could be annoying. You weren’t very special or important. You could’ve been anyone. But he’d come for you. 

That’s where you left it, your heart too weak to try and lighten the situation. 

Jiang Cheng merely looked at you for a while, fingers clasping at each other in the absence of Zidian. “I wouldn’t ignore a ransom letter,” he muttered. “Who do you take me for?” 

Your laugh scraped up your throat like a pestle in its mortar. “I don’t doubt it. Can’t you simply take my thanks, Jiang Wanyin?” 

He didn’t know how to respond, so he only scoffed. 

Scrubbing your face of the tear tracks, you were overcome with another wave of self-loathing. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, choked by the horrible feeling that you knew why this had happened. “I don’t know if—if this is really why they kidnapped me, but. I showed my friends my qiankun pouch.” Hands covering your face, you shielded yourself from his reaction. “It was for my friend’s birthday. That’s why I was out, I mean. We were all talking, and—I pretended it’s a normal bag, but I told them it’s from you. I know you said not to tell, I know I fucked up, I know it’s my fault…” 

Jiang Wanyin’s breaths grew loud enough for you to hear, and your stomach rolled again. “You…” 

Too many emotions colored his voice, all of them dark like the blood staining your robes, and you just couldn’t withstand another word from him.

Clutching at your cheeks, your lungs heaved, fingers digging into your skin in self-punishment. “I know. I’m a fucking idiot, I can’t keep my mouth shut. I don’t deserve—” A convulsion from your lungs made your body a landslide. “I don’t deserve it. Just take it back, I don’t care.” 

With shaking fingers, you pulled the qiankun pouch from your belt and thrust it toward him, head hung by a boulder’s weight. 

He fell eerily silent. You heard nothing from Jiang Wanyin for a long minute, the shouts of his disciples and thumping feet distant from your secluded spot. 

“It’s rude,” he said, quiet and solemn, leaning close enough to lower your hand with his, “to return a gift.” 

Forgiveness…?

A wet laugh shuddered from your lungs. “I’m much worse than rude.” 

“Shut up.” Jiang Wanyin squeezed your hand. You wished it would break. “I already gave it to you. It’s yours to misuse.” 

Lips trembling in their weary smile, you wiped this round of tears on the back of your unoccupied hand. “I don’t misuse it…” 

He didn’t dignify that with a response. 

It took another minute to collect yourself, but it came with a surge of exhaustion rather than the composure you desperately wanted. Couldn’t cry if you were passed out, right? 

Shaking off the temptation to request a nap, you stood on wobbly legs, and when Jiang Wanyin followed suit, you grabbed his bicep for good measure. Ah, for balance. 

“I have stuff in my carriage,” you mumbled as he summoned his sword to embark. 

“We’ll clean up everything around here,” Jiang Wanyin stated, sword coming to hover parallel to the ground. “My disciples will escort your men home, including your carriage. Stop worrying about frivolous things.”

A thin smile crossed your mouth. “So everything’s frivolous but my life?” 

Once again, Jiang Wanyin didn’t bother replying. Fair enough—your wits weren’t quite up to par. He stepped on his sword and held out his hand impatiently. 

Gazing at him, you slowly placed your fingers over his. The touch was too ephemeral to memorize the way his skin slid against yours, but his warmth lingered. Jiang Wanyin guided you onto the sword behind him, giving instructions in a voice he must not realize was soothing, because your body was overcome with wave after wave of chills as you followed along. 

“If you’re holding onto me, you won’t fall unless I do,” he concluded. 

“Naturally, you won’t fall,” you appraised, wrapping your arms around his delightfully narrow waist from behind. He was broad yet slender, that graceful paradox held by most cultivators. Clinging a bit tighter, you couldn’t fend off a blush at the feeling of your breasts nudging into his back. That didn’t stop you, though. 

His shoulder was at eye level, the landscape lowering out of sight as Jiang Wanyin lifted off the ground. It was like your feet were magnetically aligned to the blade, but you were too afraid to budge one bit for fear of defying his cultivation and tumbling to your doom. 

“This is so weird…”

Your mumbled comment deigned no response. Soaring above the treeline, you allowed the conversation to stay on the land below, where you had been a bit too honest, and he had assumed wordless acceptance. (Not tolerance. More.)

Forehead resting on the center of his broad back, your eyes lost focus, breathing deeply to settle yourself into his warmth. As you fell quiet, weighed heavy by your ever-burdening thoughts, you could swear his hand ghosted over yours.

Chapter Text

The view of the moonlit landscape was gorgeous from so far above, if only you were clearminded enough to appreciate it. Jiang Wanyin’s back was straight and steady, your arms tight around his increasingly tempting waist while he carried you home. Those two things kept you awake and alert despite the creeping mental fog: savoring his warmth, and making sure you didn’t tumble to your death in a moment of weakness. For most of the journey, you kept quiet. 

“Can I ask,” you said as you passed over a rice field in its geometric glory, “if you knew those guys?” 

The ghost of Jiang Wanyin’s touch on your hand disappeared. You held him tighter. 

“… I remember the man who was attacking you,” he said after a tense silence. “And I recognized his sect’s name in the note they delivered. They collected artifacts for demonic cultivation, years ago. I put a stop to it.” Bitterness made his voice a nail on a floorboard, your sleepy heart stepping on it askew. “We were led to believe it was one rotten apple out of the bunch. Looks like I should’ve cut them by the root.” 

Confusion added more dirt to the mud in your head, thickening the consistency to a slow trudge. “If they were careful back then, then why were they so…” 

For lack of a better term… 

“... Sloppy?”

A humorless laugh cut through the wind and whipped by your ears. “If we can figure that out by the time you come to Lotus Pier tomorrow, then my life will be a lot easier.” His tone told you there was little chance of this happening. 

Also, “Tomorrow as in later today, or as in actually tomorrow?” The sun was still well below the horizon, but surely the time had surpassed chou shi by now.

“How much sleep do you really need?” he scoffed. “You already had a lengthy nap tonight.” Low blow. “Get a couple more hours and I expect your statement will be coherent for our records. I’m only taking you home so your parents don’t kick up a fuss.”

“No offense, Wanyin,” you muttered, the premonition of a headache blooming deep within your skull, “but you’re obviously lying.” 

Beneath your forearms, his abdomen tensed, and you knew you’d hit the mark. 

“But,” you added, unable to articulate your feelings through the sludge trickling from your head into your chest, “I appreciate it anyway. Thank you.”

The early morning wind took over the conversation from there.

Not wanting to push him or yourself, you allowed Jiang Wanyin to remain antisocial. Keeping your arms snug around him, you pressed your forehead to the center of his back; feeling his steady breaths as if they were the wind licking your skin, savoring his back body flush to your front. 

This was all you could get from him. Maybe, it would be all you could get forever. 

In your heart of greedy hearts, you could pretend you were okay with it. For now, you had him in your arms in some small way, and that would be enough.

~

A couple shichen of leg-wobbling silence saw you to your home, landing not too long before dawn. His sword came to a stop a short walk away from your family’s estate, perhaps anticipating your questionable balance as your feet touched solid ground. 

He helped you down, then disembarked himself, sword returning to its sheath without needing a touch. Too tired to avoid feeling sappy, you already missed his solid, dependable warmth.

Just as you were pondering one last grab of his arm under the guise of regaining your (genuinely unstable) balance, Jiang Wanyin’s hand landed on your shoulder. 

The lanterns didn’t quite reach where you stood, so nobody was able to see the way your eyes went round, body freezing under his touch. 

He? Touched you? Voluntarily? 

AGAIN?!  

A weak noise emitted from your throat, but he was already steering you forward. The guards stationed in front of your abode had caught sight of you by now and summoned your parents. Jiang Wanyin stayed beside you, grasping your shoulder, until the two figures hurried from the lantern-lit entrance and met you halfway. 

Calling your name in relief, your parents paid absolutely no attention to the man who’d flown you in on a damn sword, instead opting to manhandle you into a tight hug. Your cells revolted, not wanting to be coddled by your parents, but especially in front of Jiang Wanyin—who was still standing there, arms folded and jaw set tight. Head turning a bit more, you caught his eye through the gap between your parents’ smothering embrace, and he looked away. 

Part of you began to ache, but not for yourself. Jiang Wanyin must feel uncomfortable seeing displays of worry by someone else’s parents, while his own parents were dead, and wouldn’t have offered such comforts when they were alive. 

But, perhaps because you were home after a long, arduous night, exhaustion began to encroach in that all-consuming way it was so fond of. You very much wanted to be alone, but you knew you weren’t off the hook until your parents damn well said you were. They had a right to be worried, you knew. That didn’t make it easier. 

Unable to take your eyes off Jiang Wanyin, the sight of him became an anchor amidst your parents’ fussing. They were asking you questions that all blended together, and you vaguely mumbled that you were fine and uninjured and the blood wasn’t yours, watching and not really absorbing as Jiang Wanyin’s glances became increasingly impatient. 

“Thank you for notifying us swiftly,” your mother addressed Jiang Wanyin at last, bowing deeply to him while keeping a hand on your shoulder, “and for bringing our daughter home safe.” 

Somehow, the gratitude made Jiang Wanyin more uncomfortable than being ignored. He grunted in acknowledgement, saying gruffly, “It’s my duty. Nothing more.” 

If you weren’t so worn out, you might’ve teased him, because that “nothing more” part was a total lie. Really, how was his face so thin and so thick at the same time? Nevertheless, at the moment you couldn’t even summon the muscle memory to smile; all your positive emotions had become the most distant clouds in the early morning sky. 

Your father did not take Jiang Wanyin’s incautious words in stride. 

“Is that how you view it?” 

A dense ball of ice collected in your chest. Between its weight and the mounting exhaustion, you were too slow to stop the collision before it happened. 

“Excuse me?” Jiang Wanyin said coldly. 

Hand tight on your other shoulder, your father squared up and fixed the sect leader with his most affronted stare. “After the situation you caused my daughter to endure, I expect you’ll be happily granting us compensation.”

Each organ inside you crawled with frostbite, slowly plunging your body into failure. “Baba…”

But he shook you off. 

When Jiang Wanyin saw that your father wasn’t backing down, his hands drew together, touching his right index finger—and, subtly, he froze when he found nothing there. 

Somehow, the sight made your chest hurt. Did he feel handicapped without Zidian? Did his hand feel too light? Weaker? 

Haughty with indignation, your father said, “It’s inexcusable to drag my daughter into your sect’s grudges. She’s an innocent bystander.” 

“That has nothing to do with me,” Jiang Wanyin barked. The glow of moonlight tinged purple in your mind’s eye, his eyes sparking with anger and unshakable pride. “I brought her home safe as promised. Everything is under control, so don’t complain!”

“The very fact that this happened to begin with is unacceptable!”

That oncoming headache had arrived, and arrived with vengeance. “Baba—”

Your father looked at you in reprimand, a phantom ache where his steadying hand gripped your shoulder. “How do you expect us to react? You’ve been safe enough to travel without guards since you were a teenager, and now that you associate with him, suddenly you’re kidnapped!”

“A-Die!” you shouted. 

His rant ceased, taken aback that you lost your temper. 

Head pounding, you wrenched out of his grasp and gripped your father’s arm, glaring at him. “It’s not his fault! If anything, it was mine—I wasn’t careful enough.” 

You could endure criticism of your own behaviors, but you just couldn’t stand the blame being misplaced. 

The brief moment of stunned silence gave you the chance to implore everyone, “I’m supposed to give my statement tomorrow. Or, today, whatever. Can I go to bed now?” 

Your mother was the first to recover. “Of course you can, Xiao Bao,” she soothed. 

“What statement does she need to give?” your father demanded of Jiang Wanyin, who had gone oddly quiet, his expression moody. “How has everything not been dealt with? You really expect my daughter to travel in a state like this?!”

Dragging this out grated your frayed nerves. When you asked if you could go to bed, you fucking meant it. “I just have to explain what happened. And honestly, I want to know why all this even happened, so…” Brain squeezing too hard to remain articulate, you fruitlessly tugged at the places your parents were holding you. “Ugh, I can’t think about this anymore. Can we be done?”

“Fuqin,” your mother backed you up, and your father finally stood down. 

“Guniang,” Jiang Wanyin said stiffly, “I’ll pick you up at si shi.”

Wow, personal transportation from the man himself? Lucky you. 

“Mm, that’s not enough sleep,” you said, knowing factually that you would be a nightmare for him the less rest you got. “Wu shi?”

“Fine.”

Apparently Jiang Wanyin wasn’t in the mood to argue, either. 

“Thanks,” you said blandly. “See you.”

“Hmph.”

With that, Jiang Wanyin flew off on his sword.

“I don’t like that young man’s attitude,” your father grumbled. 

“Young?” you repeated, unable to help yourself. You needed a good laugh after the night you just had. “A-Die, he’s pushing forty.”

Somehow, this information surprised him. “Really?” Then he scowled. “That makes it worse. He should know better.”

“Give him a break, he’s been through a lot,” you chastised, while your parents ushered into your home like an unruly child. 

“And what of the trouble you’ve just been through?” 

“That’s barely anything…”

The argument had a good few seconds to sizzle on the frying pan before crisping pitifully into an inedible piece of coal. 

Despite your unspoken wishes, your parents followed you to your room and crowded in. They sat with you on the bed, a parent on either side, coddling hands holding you all over. It had been stifling when you were outside, and it was stifling now, when all you wanted was to sit alone and cry some more. But one thing that came with having extraordinarily supportive parents was the guilt of not doing as they wanted. You felt ill the longer they smothered you with worrying touches and words of comfort, but you couldn’t ask them to leave. They would do so when they were ready, and you would stay silent and let them. 

This led to a half-conscious meditative state. Not ignoring them, but not really paying attention. If you were a more filial child, you wouldn’t find it so easy to zone out. The way you saw it, moments like this—sacrificing your need for space for your parents’ peace of mind—made up for the numerous instances of you being a disappointment on a societal level. 

“And we’re increasing security for the foreseeable future,” your father was saying. He hadn’t stopped rubbing your calf for what felt like a whole incense time. The gesture was more soothing for him than it was for you.

“Uh…” You spoke up, voice croaky from suppressed emotions. “I don’t think we need to do that.” 

Indignant, your parents sandwiched you with matching frowns. “If it was bandits, that would be one thing,” your mother said. 

Your father finished, “But you were specifically targeted. You aren’t leaving home without at least two trained guards.”

Shaking your head, you summoned a few dregs of energy from the annoyance at being supervised, and argued, “Jiang-zongzhu dismantled the entire sect behind this. He wouldn’t leave stragglers who could take revenge.” 

“You don’t know that,” your father said stubbornly. “No man is infallible.” 

“Look at it this way,” your mother soothed, “it sends a message if you go out with some guards. It’ll deter copycats.”

“Jiang-zongzhu destroying an entire sect seems like a deterrent to me…” you muttered. 

Shaking her head, your mother assured, “We just want to do as much as possible to keep you safe. It’s not forever, okay?” 

“Maybe you should finally learn some martial arts,” your father said meaningfully.

You rolled your eyes. Unless you could convince Jiang Wanyin to teach you, you weren’t interested. (Since when did it matter that much to you?) “You know I wasn’t completely helpless, right? I almost escaped before getting attacked by one guy, and I still stabbed him way more than he hurt me.” 

In the haze of your irritation and exhaustion, you’d forgotten your parents didn’t have the full story yet. This stunned them, and you looked up to catch them sharing a glance. 

“It’s very good that you defended yourself,” your father begrudged. 

Exasperation thickened around your ribs, the phantom pain of being crushed and instantly healed haunting your body’s memory. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

Every second that ticked by felt like another stream of sand trickling from the ceiling in pursuit of burying you. All you wanted was to sleep. But how dare you kick your parents out? 

They spoke more, but you forgot to listen. Finally, after several minutes of their speeches being faced with an unresponsive stare, they got the message. They departed after one more hug each, which you returned halfheartedly, limbs like dead weight. You didn’t lift your gaze from the wrinkled bedcovers until the door slid shut. 

Then, at last, you were alone. 

Blinking slowly at the floor, you wondered if you were going to cry again. The sensations hadn’t arisen in your body for a good shichen or so, and while the streak had been broken when your parents had followed you into your safe space, your resistance to it had numbed those feelings. You felt a pang of irritation that it was so much easier to cry in front of someone else. 

Well… you’d had the chance to cry alone, back there. Jiang Wanyin was the one to insist he come along for your detour into the woods.

And you’d let him. Why did you let him? 

Palm to forehead, you shook off the inane thought. Of course you’d let him come with you—arguing with that man was more trouble than it was worth, and besides, you trusted Jiang Wanyin.

Unbidden, your cheeks prickled with heat. Ah, that was worse than crying—why couldn’t you stop yearning?! 

With a grumble of frustration, you faceplanted into your bed and dragged the pillow on top of your head. It tipped over awkwardly after two seconds, and you flung it to the right just because you could.

… Then you crawled to that side of the bed to retrieve the pillow from the floor, because you actually needed that to sleep. 

Your body and emotions were frothing with indescribable sensations, but you were too tired to ask for someone to fill a tub. There was no guarantee a bath would be able to wash away the memories of those cruel hands on you, the feelings of being swept from the safety of your uncomplicated life. And so, with dawn creeping through the window, you gave up on everything and passed out.

Chapter Text

When Xiaolin woke you from your slog of a night’s sleep—hardly more effective than a nap, at this point—you pondered decking her in the face, then pondered jabbing a sword through your chest for agreeing to get up and do anything today. 

Jiang Wanyin was due in an incense time, so you lay in bed for a while longer, screamed into your pillow in response to Xiaolin’s next check-in, and stumbled to the bath prepared for you. As you washed yourself, you mentally forgave Xiaolin for her transgression of making you get out of bed, because servants were the bastion of functionality in this cruel world. 

By the time Jiang Wanyin was received into your home, you were dressed and awake enough that you no longer felt like the mulling center of a volcano. Instead, you were a fresh layer of ash over the landscape, technically settled but ready to choke anyone who breathed at you wrong.

Jiang Wanyin waited in the greeting hall while you were fetched from your room, where you’d been glumly eating breakfast, hair bundled up in a towel to dry. A vague sense of nausea had lingered even after downing the painkiller you’d requested from Xiaolin, so “breakfast” today was effectively a snack. Before leaving your room, you had the nearest servant comb your damp hair and twist it into a bun—not the best style to let it finish drying, but the wind on your travels would probably do the trick. You finished your piece of fruit while you walked, then stopped by the nearest servant’s station to rinse your mouth and hands, and went to meet Jiang Wanyin for departure.

When Jiang Wanyin came into view, frustratingly handsome and dignified as ever, you scraped a bit of wet hair off your forehead and offered a cursory salute. “Morning.” 

Arms folded, he eyed your halfhearted appearance and didn’t return the greeting. “Come on, we should finish before dark.” 

You blinked. “Okay.” 

That was when your parents hurried out into the hall, having just left a meeting to see you off. Your father still seemed somewhat distrustful of Jiang Wanyin, but you tossed him a grumpy pout, and he refrained from commenting. 

“Will this take long?” your mother asked. 

You weren’t certain, yourself, so you looked to Jiang Wanyin for guidance. 

“No. Long before dinnertime, if things go smoothly,” Jiang Wanyin answered. 

Your mother glanced between you and Jiang Wanyin, and your returning stare did nothing to dissuade her meddling instincts. “If it gets close to dark, I do request that you host our daughter instead of forcing her to travel overnight.” 

In fairness, you were no longer keen on going outside after sundown. Since she had a point, you didn’t protest, and Jiang Wanyin agreed without hesitation.

“Remind me again why she has to go all the way to Lotus Pier for this?” your father asked suspiciously. 

“Because she needs to identify the evidence we collected.” Not only did he bleed impatience, but Jiang Wanyin appeared uncomfortable at the questioning. He didn’t even put up a fight like last night. 

Your father still appeared unconvinced—and you were getting a weird feeling about it, too—but you rubbed your face and sighed for everyone’s attention.

“Knock it off, Baba,” you said tiredly. “I want to see those guys arrested with my own two eyes.” 

In other words: Stop cockblocking my alone time with Jiang Wanyin, Father! I agreed to get out of bed for this!!!

At your assertion that you were going of your own will, your father ditched that line of passive-aggression for another. 

“This whole situation will be kept quiet for my family’s safety,” your father said, “so I expect discretion from Yunmeng Jiang as well.” 

Naturally, your parents would be using their bountiful wealth to ensure the news stories wouldn’t circulate beyond the gossip of any inadvertent witnesses. This did you no favors in the eyes of Jiang Wanyin, who already thought of you a brat who bribed anyone at your leisure.

“We can handle our own reputation,” Jiang Wanyin said haughtily, but he caught your flat look and begrudgingly added, “I’ll avoid drawing this out, sir.”

Finding this as good a place to insert yourself as any, you patted your parents’ arms, then tugged away to join Jiang Wanyin at his side. 

“Thanks for the ride, Jiang-zongzhu,” you said, remembering your manners at the last second. 

He only gave you a strange frown, but you still weren’t all there in the brain, so you brushed it off. 

“Stay safe,” your mother called behind you. Though you didn’t turn back as you cast a wave over your shoulder, you could imagine your father nodding in agreement. 

Like yesterday (ah, earlier that morning…?), you embarked Jiang Wanyin’s sword with a firm grasp around his torso. Now that you were somewhat rested, you could appreciate his beautiful waist with the proper attention. As the wind breezed through your hair, you pondered teasing him with some squeezes, but that would most certainly be unwelcome. It was a miracle he even let you hold him like this again today, chest pushed into his firm back, catching the faintest whiff of his earthy scent through the streaming air. 

Feeling a bit selfish in your post-incident emotions, you allowed your nose to touch his shoulder through that rich, purple fabric. There was no way he noticed, because he would’ve tossed you off his sword if he had. You smiled to yourself and rested your cheek on his shoulder blade to mindlessly watch the scenery pass so far below. It didn’t escape your notice that he stiffened when you made that extra contact.

Ever shameless, you held firm and stubbornly enjoyed the ride. Even under the common knowledge that your body wouldn’t break from a long fall, he definitely didn't have the guts to hurl you to the distant, perilous ground.

Like you’d hoped, Jiang Wanyin didn’t mention your harmless indulgences. However, he couldn’t endure them without distraction, so he spoke up while your shadows vanished among a flurry of pine trees. 

“We captured everyone affiliated with those four kidnappers.” He spoke over the wind, and you could feel his voice vibrate from his sternum, tingling in your chest and arms where you touched. “They’d formed a small sect at least six years ago—that was when we caught wind of rumors of demonic cultivation. When I investigated, there was one demonic cultivator active in the area, so I captured and interrogated him. His sect collected cultivation artifacts, including demonic artifacts,” you remembered him mentioning that yesterday, “which I made them surrender. Back then, they claimed the collection was for simple research. And I was naive enough to believe them.” 

The disgust in his voice made you frown. 

“Do you blame yourself?" you asked, just to make sure you’d interpreted correctly. 

Jiang Wanyin grunted. You could feel that, too. “I certainly could have been more diligent.” 

“I don’t blame you for this, uh, situation.” Compelled to elaborate, you lifted your head to speak closer to his ear, though that put you within whacking range of his loose bangs. “It’s their fault for doing it, but if we want to spread the blame, it’s my fault for not being as cautious as I should.” Pressing your temple to his shoulder, you added with a self-deprecating laugh, “Who knows how long they’ve had their eyes on me, and I didn’t even notice?” 

Your chauffeur was quiet for a while. “Those details are what we’re trying to get out of the man who was attacking you,” he said finally. “He can tell you himself, if you’re willing to see him.”

At the prospect of facing Chun again, your stomach turned. It was a mild sedative that he would be imprisoned like he deserved. 

“I guess,” you eventually gave. “Did you already get the information out of those guys, or were you waiting for, uh… me?”

The words sounded stupid the moment they left your mouth, but Jiang Wanyin didn’t see the way you cringed, so he didn’t comment. It was even a bit of a relief when he took your question seriously. 

“The operation to abduct you was barely organized,” he scorned. “Half the sect had no idea what was going on; they were already crumbling in fright when we arrived. It’s no wonder they were so easy to defeat.” 

Mindlessly picking at the edge of his sash, you observed, “It seemed organized to me. They had talismans and horses prepared and everything.” 

“Apparently it was a coincidence that they caught you out near their headquarters. And,” he said, tone turning severe in a way that made you hastily withdraw from playing with his sash, “the qiankun pouch wasn’t the first reason they took notice of you.” 

Your chest felt tight, uncertain how to feel about this revelation. “So they really were spying on me.” 

“Ask him yourself.” 

“Making me do all the work, Wanyin-xiong? I’m just a poor civilian.” 

The way you could feel his responding scoff sent tingles down your spine. “They were already stalking you before they overheard something you shouldn’t have been talking about.”

As you’d already apologized for it, you didn’t want to say it again. Uncomfortable, you planted your cheek on his back and kept your gaze on the tumbling scenery far below. 

“If not for your little party, they would’ve had time to organize a proper effort, which might’ve turned out to be a pain. But it’s nothing Yunmeng Jiang couldn’t have handled,” Jiang Wanyin said dismissively. 

“Mm.”

The exertion from the past day was still weighing on you; not enough time had passed, and you weren’t quite recovered. Holding a conversation with logical threads was too difficult, so you surrendered to the whims of whatever came to mind first. 

“Will you, um… tell me about the demonic cultivator? The one you said you, uh, ‘handled.’”

If you thought he was tense before, his entire back body physically contracted when you brought up that memory. For a few heart-rending seconds you thought he wasn’t going to answer, but just as you were about to apologize and take it back, he spoke. 

“There had been reports of people disappearing around the same region we’d found you last night—and corpses were showing up with certain organs removed, or returned to their bodies mutilated.” 

This type of nebulous talk about death and gross surgeries wasn’t enough to turn your stomach like a raw slab of dough, but the implications did make you a bit queasy. 

He continued, tone dark, “It wasn’t just bad stitching on those bodies. I knew the second I read the report that it was demonic cultivation. It wasn’t Wei Wu—”

You only realized he’d misspoken when he cut himself off. Pulse ramping up to a race, you held your breath until he gritted out, “It wasn’t the Yiling Laozu’s way of doing things. But I couldn’t be too careful.” Under his breath, he added, “The bastard had the audacity to be sloppy, too.” 

A vague sense of hysteria made your throat numb. If you were in a better headspace, you might’ve taken the chance to ask Jiang Wanyin if he missed his shixiong. As it stood, there were more pressing matters. “Sloppy in, uh, how he cut them open, or disposing of the bodies…?”

“All of the above,” Jiang Wanyin said dryly. “He was easy to track down. Claimed he had stolen the artifacts behind his sect’s back and was experimenting in secret, and even Zidian couldn’t wring the opposite out of him, so…” 

In his distraction, his sword flew faster, the wind whipping hard enough that you had to shield yourself with his broad back. “I shouldn't have believed him. Should’ve known his whole damn group was rotten. I knew they were shady even listening to that man plead for their lives, but I thought they’d understand what that meant for them—if they followed through with those practices. They should know enough to fucking leave me alone.”

Suddenly, you knew what he was saying. Your mouth felt like rice paper, wishing you could take out your water flask without dropping it. “Um, Wanyin…?” 

“What?” 

Now, you felt that it was appropriate to tighten your grip around his waist. “Were they planning on, uh… in the ransom note, did they threaten to…?” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. 

Grimly, Jiang Wanyin answered, “Yes,” and you dug your fingers into his robe to fight the turbulence within. 

Organ harvesters. 

Even if you couldn’t die—would’ve healed faster than it took to cut you open—it was a good thing, a very good thing, that you had stalled them. 

~

As more of the landscape transitioned into the vast, shimmering azure of lotus lakes, your flight descended low enough to appreciate the wilting blooms. You watched with the barest attention, feeling stranger and stranger as you approached the distant terraces of Lotus Pier. The sight of the prettily browning pinks and greens sent a ripple through your memory. 

“We didn’t get to pick lotus pods,” you murmured, voice faint as the words slipped out unbidden. “Maybe next year.”

Jiang Wanyin didn’t respond, but you knew he heard you. Maybe that was a gift. 

When you arrived, he let you grip his arm while you regained your bearings. Traveling by sword had taken a quarter of the time it did by land, but same as last night, your legs were unaccustomed to staying one foot in front of the other for so long, as was necessary for standing on a blade. It was a nice excuse to remain pressed up against Jiang Wanyin, even if the wobbly sensations were a bit embarrassing. 

Before doing anything else, Jiang Wanyin touched base with his head disciple, whom he just barely caught as she bustled from his personal office. Several delicate-looking vials were spread between her fingers, and Jiang Wanyin heckled her, “Don’t we have servants for menial tasks?”

“You don’t like people moving things around in your office,” Fang Lin said, the implications clear. 

A fleeting thought passed by, that this was something you could be jealous over, but in the grand scale of giving a fuck, rationality outweighed such petty notions. 

Anyhow, her attention had already turned to you. “It’s good to see that you’re recovering well, guniang.”

“Yeah…” After everything that had happened, you couldn’t manage to act sociable. It always took extra effort for you, as you preferred to remain in the world’s peripheries; now, your usual rhythm had been walled off from your sight, and you didn’t have the strength to punch through the bricks. So, you offered her a bland smile and hoped for the best.