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MianMian spent her life at the edge of legends. She excelled in her training, earning close regard to the untouchable heir of the LanlingJin cultivation sect, used her skill and discipline to become trusted and invaluable. Jin Zixuan was a diamond on the crown of a great empire but MianMian did not sleep in beautiful silks. She was a gem hidden deep under the earth, uncut and nameless, undefined and precious. She did not forget her place as she stood among legends and immortals, did not hesitate to prove her worth in front of the most powerful young masters.
MianMian was powerful, clever, unstoppable. But she lived in the shadows of those legends. She could not forget her place if only because she was reminded of it with every day in the littlest ways. She clung to her privileges because it was all she had ever earned, valued her friendships even if it left a sour taste on her tongue.
It was because of one of these friendships that she found herself here.
“I have an odd request,” Jin Zixuan proposed one beautiful spring afternoon on the tail end of a great war. He was a proud man, outfitted in spotless gold and chin always held high even in the midst of defeat. The nervousness on his face was uncanny. MianMian might’ve been more surprised by it if she hadn’t once witnessed this very same man once hyperventilate for twenty minutes after Jiang Yanli smiled at him.
Dread built in her stomach, instincts telling her exactly what was going to come next, but she still managed to choke out, “Of course, Young Master Jin.”
He cleared his throat, eyes singularly focused on the delicate wooden box in his hands. MianMian eyed it cautiously—it was carved with beautiful flowers and accented in swirls of gold like pieces of starlight captured by an artists’ hand. Jin Zixuan was holding onto it so tightly his knuckles were turning white.
The second he noticed the direction of her gaze, he shoved the box at her. She took it out of reflex; it was heavier than she expected, the wood thick and glossy under her fingers. She didn’t get the chance to ask what was inside before Jin Zixuan blurted, “My mother wishes for me to write Maiden Jiang letters of my affection in order to reinforce the betrothal. However, I… am uncertain of how to do so, and would like to request your assistance as both a woman and a trusted cultivator.”
MianMian stared at him. Looked down at the box.
“You want me to write your fiancée love letters,” she clarified.
He winced. “Yes. I am incapable of articulating my feelings and I trust you to do them justice. You know better what women will want or expect to hear in these situations.”
MianMian could have pointed out that she had never spoken to Jiang Yanli, had only seen her across military camps and lingering in the back of rooms with her head down. MianMian knew as a woman what she might want to hear in love confessions and pillow talk but she had never voiced out loud how she had always imagined sweet, feminine voices, soft hands and softer lips. MianMian did not know what love was as much as Jin Zixuan could, always pushed by his mother into decisions and letting it happen because it is easier.
MianMian did not come from the same kind of family as the Jin clan. She kept her wants and desires deep and secret in her chest for the world to never see, pictured them as fantasies and nothing more. She was not the one who gets the good things, the beautiful things. She had long learned how to accept that.
But this was… a bit too much.
“I don’t believe that is for the best,” MianMian replied slowly, holding the box back out for the heir of Lanling. “Those words should be yours, not mine.”
Jin Zixuan was already shaking his head before she had so much as finished speaking. “I trust you,” he told her, pushing the box back to her chest. It was a vote of confidence that should have humbled her, but instead it left a dull ache in her chest, a lingering reminder of things that she could never have. “I truly believe you will do a better job than I would.”
But that’s not the point, MianMian wanted to argue, words against her lips. This should be from you. It is cruel for me to pretend to be the person she dreams of. I cannot bear to make a woman meant for your bed to fall in love with my words.
She swallowed it all back, the sinking dread and the spark of fear and the quiet outrage. Found it in herself to bow her head, hugging the box against her abdomen.
“I’ll be sure not to let you down, Young Master Jin,” she promised, fairly certain that there was no way this could ever go right.
~*~*~*~*~
MianMian had never written a love letter. She could think in poetry, whispered it to herself in the darkness like she had a lover hidden in the sheets. MianMian had always been a bit too much of a romantic for a woman raised to be a warrior, cringing at the thought of her callused fingertips on smooth skin, craving it in equal measure.
MianMian had never been in love and couldn’t imagine that she ever will be. It feels almost like an insult to sit at a table with beautiful, thick stationary and pristine brushes, brainstorming words to a remarkable woman that MianMian would never be able to say with her own voice.
Perhaps that was what made it easier. It could be a mask, a security blanket. MianMian could pretend to be someone she can never be, can be selfish and confident and other. She can be the legend, not the subservient supporting role. She can write her own stories out of stardust and beautiful people, even if it is at the request of a friend.
It felt like a lie, but she picked up the brush anyway.
~*~*~*~*~
Maiden Jiang,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. It has been quite a long time since I have last heard from you—I hope, despite the devastation of the recent war, Lotus Pier and the ever-strong family of Jiang have found peace among the change in the seasons.
Lanling is beautiful this time of year, scattered with pedals off the trees, carried into the city with the wind. I saw them today and thought of the flowers in your hair, the lotuses of your clan. It reminded me of the things unsaid between us, and I could not spend another day toiling in my guilt without another word.
I have not yet apologized for the way we last parted, my horrible treatment and unfair accusations. Maiden Jiang, I cannot apologize more for the way I have treated you. I think back on my words and wish I could snatch them from the air, crush them between my palms. You have always showed me such kindness and I have managed only to take advantage of it. It is too much to ask, but I must ask it anyway—if there is any possibility that you may forgive me for my follies, may we begin again? If what I have done is unforgivable, I will cease bothering you; but if there is forgiveness for the horrible things I have said and done, I hope there is a way we may move past it. I have not realized the empty spaces in my life until you were absent from them.
I have heard the admirable efforts taken to rebuild what was lost; Sect Leader Jiang would not willingly accept any praises I may offer so I wish to extend them to you instead. You hold a gentle passion, unwavering and devoted to your people and your family. It is a strength that will be immeasurably important in a trying time such as this, and I am sure all parties mentioned have found a comfort in your steadfast faith.
I truly hope you are doing well, and I hope to hear from you soon.
Yours truly,
Young Master Jin Zixuan
~*~*~*~*~
Jiang Yanli had been tired for weeks now. The end of the war only brought different demands, work that had to be done at home rather than at the front. She had not witnessed her home burn but the pieces had not been picked up before they returned, her siblings leading the way stone-faced through the ashes and rubble of what had once felt like the safest place in the world. Jiang Yanli had watched the survivors scrub the blood from the floors and set fires to the Wen banners left in tatters from angry knives and sword swipes, and she hasn’t done a moment of heavy-lifting but she can feel the heaviness in her bones when she looks out at the home she never got to say a proper goodbye to.
Lotus Pier was quiet without her parents. Jiang Yanli sat up every night, straining to hear the familiar sounds of those she never got the chance to say goodbye to. She could only hear the quiet buzz of insects, the hypnotically familiar sound of the waves against the piers.
Her brothers were changed, marked by an unforgiving war. The world had been molded into something unrecognizable, something that it would take time to become similar to the way it had always been.
The first letter is unexpected, delivered to A-Cheng with the others. He rustled through them at the dinner table, sipping on soup and scowling down at the missives as if they had personally offended them. A-Xian watched him with limitless amusement, meeting Jiang Yanli’s eyes across the table and rolling his eyes at every heavy sigh. Jiang Yanli pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, ducking her head to stare at her bowl in an attempt to hide her face.
Jiang Cheng flipped to the next letter—and paused.
“Shijie,” he began slowly, confused and angry, the first shocks of an earthquake rumbling to full strength, “why do you have a letter from Jin Zixuan?”
She looked up, surprised. The smile fell from A-Xian’s face, replaced with a deep scowl.
“Burn it,” he replied instantly, maliciously. “Throw it away. He doesn’t deserve a minute of our shijie’s attention.”
A-Cheng nodded in agreement. “He was cruel to you,” her little brother reminded her as if she could ever forget. She swallowed hard, reminded herself carefully of the wishes of her mother, feeling the ache of something phantom in her chest.
She slowly reached her hand out to take it. A-Cheng stared at her like she had lost her mind, paused like he might consider ripping the letter up before she could even get her hands on it.
“Let me decide,” she told her brother firmly, leaving no room for argument. Wei Wuxian grumbled unhappily into his bowl of soup, drinking it with a scowl. Jiang Cheng’s mouth ticked unhappily but he still surrendered the letter to her.
“If it’s rude, you tell me,” he made her promise, narrowing his eyes. “I will not tolerate him stepping out of line.”
It was still strange to see her little brother as a leader, in the place that had always been carved out for him to inherit. She patted his cheek and shot him a reassuring smile, tucking the envelope into the sleeve of her robes. He watched the envelope disappear with the same scowl that barely ever left his face nowadays, shadows under his eyes heavier now that their parents were gone.
“I will tell you,” she promised, picking up her spoon again.
A-Xian shot Jiang Cheng a long look as if she couldn’t see them. A-Cheng rolled his eyes and then shook his head, digging back into his dinner, the pile of missives all but forgotten.
The letter in Jiang Yanli’s sleeve practically burned at her skin for the duration of the meal. A new marvel, a quiet question—and, more than anything, a welcome distraction.
~*~*~*~*~
Young Master Jin,
There is, of course, little to forgive. Tempers and emotions ran high during the war; I can only imagine the stresses you were under. These are not the times to harbor ill will for the things we could not control, and therefore I free you from guilt I would never wish upon you. New starts ring bittersweet as we work to rebuild what we could not save—instead of a fresh start, we will forge ahead. I am willing to forgive and forget and hope you may be willing to meet me on the other side of the strife.
My brother would never accept such praise, you are quite right, so I will accept it on behalf of the Jiang clan. It is a thoughtful, kind sentiment that goes wholeheartedly appreciated. I am doing well, and so are my brothers. This is all I can ask for.
It is quieter, now, in Lotus Pier. I will not bother you with musings and melancholy, but I have recently learned how big the sky is, how far the stars stretch. The silence brings with it whispers of the world, picks up the dust of the things we can no longer hold onto. It is difficult to sleep under the void of something I cannot fathom being able to understand.
YunmengJiang has always ventured to attempt the impossible. We will continue to rise under my brother’s leadership, of that I am certain.
I promised to smother my musings and immediately endeavored to bore you with them anyway. My sincerest apologies, Young Master Jin. I am sure the war has not left Lanling untouched.
It was unexpected to hear from you, though I wish to hear back again. Is that greedy of me? If it is, I cannot bring myself to apologize. I am left with a world where I wish to be a little selfish, where I have struggles that make it a little easier to reach out to things that are good and kind. To attempt the impossible.
Yours truly,
Jiang Yanli
~*~*~*~*~
Maiden Jiang,
I looked toward the stars tonight in the pursuit of your poetry, your infinite curiosity. I could sketch the lines between the stars, find patterns and pictures in the scatterings of those beautiful things. The world is endless and boundless and larger than I will ever be able to fathom, mystery reaching out through time and expectation and finding us among the winds of change. I cannot fathom the questions you must struggle with, the things you cannot bring yourself to understand. Grief is horrible and you have many things to grieve for all at once. To stand amongst the ashes and reach for anything at all is admirable; that you would reach for me is an honor.
The world has changed in infinite ways the last several months and there is something beautiful that comes from making it through the rain. We are here now, carrying the duty to mourn for those who are not and dream for those things that once felt unattainable. If you reach for me, Maiden Jiang, know I will reach back without hesitation.
I have been told to write poetry, to create words that may leave you breathless. I do not think that is my strong suit—I have always found comfort among the wrong things, blades and diplomacy—but I will try to be better for you. I will make promises I strive to keep.
I have been blind for a long time, eyes willingly tied by my own hand. I am ready to remove the cloth and turn my head up toward the sun.
Yours truly,
Young Master Jin
~*~*~*~*~
The letters pass smoothly, lovingly. Her brothers shoot her displeased looks at the delivery of every new one, always in the same thick envelopes with that red wax seal. Jiang Yanli had long learned how to ignore their unhappy looks, learned how to laugh it off. They were overprotective, she reminded herself. They have watched this man break her and they have watched this man rebuild her like the planks of the home they have salvaged.
It was something good. Jiang Yanli needed something good.
The letters came faster, easier. Less formal. A little more like promises.
Jiang Yanli hadn’t wanted to fall again and again for this man. She did not want to imagine how much it would hurt to have her heart broken by him again, for not the first or even the second time.
But now, it was too late.
~*~*~*~*~
Young Master Jin,
A-Xian and I went out to pick lotus pods last night and stayed out too late, until long past the sky bled into beautiful red and orange. He convinced me to stay out long enough to see the stars and we sat in the middle of the lake with our heads turned up. We saw a shooting star and A-Xian was so excited he nearly sent us both tipping into the lake. A far cry from the fearsome Yiling Laozu I hear of in terrified whispers.
Yours truly,
Jiang Yanli
~*~*~*~*~
Maiden Jiang,
I have attached some of my preferred tea for getting a long, restful sleep. I know the rebuilding has been wearing on you—this will help you sleep through the night. I apologize for the smell, though I believe spice is encouraged in Yunmeng.
I hope you dream of beautiful things.
Yours truly,
Young Master Jin
~*~*~*~*~
Young Master Jin,
I am worried for A-Xian. He is quiet sometimes, his eyes far away. I fear he is dreaming of the war but Jiang Cheng believes our brother has worse things in his past to haunt him. My brothers will not tell me what happened in the months A-Xian was believed to be missing and I have long learned to stop asking. I hope one day they may tell me. I hope one day soon A-Xian will not be haunted by horrible things.
Yours truly,
Jiang Yanli
~*~*~*~*~
Jiang Yanli smiled so much when she received a new envelope that her brothers stopped glaring when the messenger arrived. A-Xian started nagging to read them, teasing smiles on his lips. A-Cheng began to stare at them in consideration, mouth thin and unhappy as if he were considering asking for her weight in gold from LanlingJin at the possibility of marriage.
She didn’t tell her brothers that something was different. That, at some point, she stopped hearing Jin Zixuan’s voice in the words written to her.
She figured she was just losing her mind. It had been so long since she’d seen him—perhaps she was only just forgetting. Memories were such faulty, fragile things.
~*~*~*~*~
Maiden Jiang,
You are the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thought before I drift to sleep. I spend my days losing focus on things I now refer to as inconsequential if it is not about beautiful things to send to you. You deserve the world and more, and I will not rest until all the beautiful things are yours.
Today, I’ve enclosed pressed flower pedals. Back in the beginning, I told you of how they dusted the stones and paths, coating the city in a lively blanket. They still remind me solely, wonderfully of you.
Yours truly.
~*~*~*~*~
MianMian didn’t remember when she stopped signing Young Master Jin’s name. She didn’t remember a day or a time, but she didn’t have to think too hard about why.
Liar, MianMian whispered to herself even as her hands shook with every new letter, swallowing hard against the rise of things she should never dare to feel about a woman promised to someone else.
Liar, she accused herself as her fingertips brushed a name not meant for her to covet, squirreling away these letters in that beautiful little box. She kept them under her desk as if they were ever hers to keep. As if they were meant for her, except that they were.
Liar, she reminded herself as she started a letter again and again, wondering how she could pretend to be someone she is not, wishing with her whole heart that she could be more than her own bones and skin and the thundering beat of her heart at every new letter.
She once thought she could be unaffected by the beautiful words, by the heartfelt sentiments and the coy double-speak. She thought she could pretend to be Jin Zixuan falling in love with a gorgeous, kind maiden of a prominent sect, thought she could separate herself from the sweetness of the promises. MianMian is not an effortless romantic but she can pretend to be, faceless and unknown behind these words written in neat, tight script.
She was not supposed to care. She was not supposed to feel the rough paper under her fingertips with that familiar seal of lotuses and feel her heart leap. She was not supposed to be the one these words were for, was never supposed to allow herself to think for one second that she was who this woman was writing to.
She was a liar. Jiang Yanli did not have any idea.
MianMian was not a woman who wanted things thoughtlessly, desperately, overwhelmingly. But she wanted Jiang Yanli with the strength of a hurricane, wanted to run her hands along silky skin and feel this woman’s heartbeat under her fingertips. She wondered what her lips would taste like and if it would be saltwater and sunshine. MianMian wanted.
Somewhere between the pages and the sharing of secret, wonderful things, she fell in love with a woman who will never love her back.
MianMian knew it would not end well. Even still, she fell deeper and deeper until it felt a little like drowning, like putting her head underwater and desperately breathing in, hoping for just a small bubble of air and the feeling of hands on hers, pulling her up toward the surface.
~*~*~*~*~
Young Master Jin,
I daresay you might enjoy these quiet days in Lotus Pier. Lanling is busy and gilded, bright and otherworldly, but there is serenity in slowing down. I could show you all of it, take a boat onto the waters where the current will pull us without the need to lift a finger. I will show you the burnt pieces and the ones my brother has built anew, hands heavy with calluses and splinters and mouth curled in determination that looks so much like our mother. You are busy but you might find peace in not needing to be.
More often, I have been thinking of what life in Lanling may be like. How the movement of the crowds and the passersby may be like the current of great waters. How the changing seasons will be more pronounced, how the wind through the trees may sound like the breeze off the water when I close my eyes.
I think about being in these places with you. I think everyday about how much I may like that.
Yours truly,
Jiang Yanli
~*~*~*~*~
Maiden Jiang,
I am not a wordsmith, though you make me wish I were. Your letters bring with them a sense of relief, a long breath out after a hard day. The days are busier here but the thought of ending it in your smiles brings with it a sense of rightness, of peace. It quiets my mind, smoothing the aches and pains in my chest.
If I were a wordsmith, I would know how to say the things that race through my mind every day. I spend long hours distracted, thinking solely of you. When my thoughts get the most incomprehensible, I put my hand to my heart and imagine you are here with me. It is a balm like no other.
Please excuse me if that is forward, or saying too much too soon. I miss your presence like it has always been at my side, like a piece of my heart is with you for safekeeping. I hope you never return it, that you will keep it with you for both the days apart and the days spent so close to me I can hear your every breath.
It is late at night, and I think of you. It is morning again, and I dreamt of you.
Yours truly.
~*~*~*~*~
Young Master Jin,
Your words are more than enough. They are everything.
I will keep it safe. Always, forever, eternally. There is no limit to the amount of promises I am willing to make if it will keep me at your side for as long as you are willing to have me.
Yours truly,
Jiang Yanli
~*~*~*~*~
Maiden Jiang,
I am not covetous. But I am. Oh, I am.
If I were bolder, I would say more. There are weights on my chest still. There are truths that have still gone unsaid.
I want to be more for you. I want to be better for you.
I want to be everything you imagined and more.
Yours truly.
~*~*~*~*~
Young Master Jin,
You are. You are. You are.
Yours truly,
Jiang Yanli
~*~*~*~*~
Young Master Jin,
This letter may well catch up with my last, may reinforce all of the quiet promises I have made and those I wish to make in the future, again and again until I run out of breath and my cheeks hurt from smiling.
My brothers will be journeying to LanlingJin for the hunt at Phoenix Mountain. A-Cheng has permitted me to join him.
I will race to you.
Yours truly,
Jiang Yanli
~*~*~*~*~
Jin Zixuan found her before the letter ever had a chance to, eyes wide and a little panicked. She had been sparring in the training field with some of the younger disciples, correcting their footwork and forcing them to run laps when they seem to be getting worn out too quickly. It had never been her duty to train them but MianMian found over the years that she liked it, found a sense of accomplishment in watching her students get better after long weeks of hard work.
The disciples saw him before she did, halting their movements and sinking down into deep, respectful bows. MianMian turned and saw him cutting across the fields, not even bothering to look at the juniors. She felt a flash of irritation, or ire.
“MianMian,” he called, reaching her in great big strides and grabbing her forearm with an air of panic that was uncommon for the future sect leader. “We need to talk.”
Immediately, she felt cold fear in her veins. Her mind started racing instantly, wondering if he found the box and how, if he read the letters and found more in them than just a subordinate writing meaningless poetry to a beautiful girl, if he read the letters and knew in the words and quiet confessions that it meant more to MianMian than it should—
Before she could spiral, he added, “The YunmengJiang clan has been invited to Lanling.”
The fear stopped, relaxed into what might’ve been relief if it still didn’t burn ice-hot. It morphed into something terrible in her chest, felt like her whole chest being crushed by a boulder, as if she was being stretched out in every direction and opened up to see the hidden feelings and guilt and hopelessness buried deep down in her chest. She tried to swallow but felt like she might choke on it, felt her eyebrows go up in quiet question that she hoped he might read as detached interest. He must have read her like she watched him to because he grimaced back.
She looked back at the juniors awkwardly hovering on the training field, looking between them as if to catch a hint of significance. She waved her hand in dismissal and they bowed one last time before heading off toward the dormitories, speaking amongst themselves in quiet whispers. She turned back to Jin Zixuan.
“I assume this means Maiden Jiang will be among them,” she said, heart heavy. She knew it would come to this but had somehow allowed herself to hope there would be more time, as if she ever had a chance of a happy ending. “You’re here because you need to know the contents of the letters.”
“Only the important parts,” Jin Zixuan confirmed. He didn’t say it to be unkind but it felt like a slap anyway, as if any words exchanged between MianMian and Jiang Yanli could be anything more than artificial. Because they were supposed to be, she reminded herself. She was never supposed to go so far, take so many liberties, put the Young Master in such an awkward position.
She hesitated, hoped it just looked like she was thinking. She tried to buy herself an extra moment in time to breathe, to let the desolation roll off her back like it was little more than rain. “She likes you,” MianMian finally choked out, praying to the goddess of mercy that it sounded reassuring and not accusatory. “I daresay it won’t take much to get her to fall into your arms, but you should do something grand anyway. Something sweet. She would like that.”
He nodded along like she was one of their teachers cataloguing the best ways to exorcize a fierce spirit. “Is there anything she’s mentioned in particular?”
It tasted like acid in her mouth but MianMian admits, “She wants to see Lanling. She wants to explore it with you.”
“I can arrange that.”
“Do something personal. A picnic, or flowers.”
She watched Jin Zixuan commit that to memory solemnly, eyes out of focus as he thought deeply about her insight. MianMian thought of all of the promises in the letters and couldn’t bring herself to voice them out loud, to tell them to Jin Zixuan as if they have ever been his. She wanted to keep them close to her chest, for safekeeping. She wanted to be the only one other than Jiang Yanli to know what they said, to hold onto that last feeling that anything that passed between them was between them, between MianMian and Jiang Yanli and not a princeling and a lady.
MianMian can’t have the rest but she can have this quiet fantasy. She can have the things written for someone else, for someone she could never be no matter how much she tried.
MianMian knew she had to let go of it all, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Young Master Jin, do you care for her?”
Jin Zixuan blinked in surprise, turned to look at her. He must have seen something earnest in her face because he smiled, reached out and patted her shoulder.
“This betrothal has been arranged for years,” he replied, which was not the answer she wanted.
“I know that, but…” She took a deep breath, needed to ask this more than anything, needed to know that she did not lead Jiang Yanli into an empty, unhappy marriage with a man who did not understand or want her like she does. “Do you—can you love her? Will that make you happy?”
“That is a deeply personal question,” he said in a scolding way, but she still watched him consider it. “It is hard to explain, MianMian. It’s a matter of obligation more than it will ever be of love. I will not ever be my father, will not ever treat a wife the way my mother has been treated, but I can’t lie and say that I will love Jiang Yanli. But I do hope I will. I hope that we will not be trapped as our parents have been, that at the least we will have an understanding and a companionship. The rest is unknown.”
But she loves you, MianMian wanted to scream, wanted to grab this spoiled young man and shake him so hard she gave him a concussion. She wanted to swing her fist, words bubbling up the back of her throat. She loves you and she deserves to be loved in return.
She didn’t say a word. It was not her place. She was not the person who could decide what will make Jiang Yanli happy.
She nodded like she understood, as if she could ever understand. Jin Zixuan smiled back at her and patted her shoulder again, this time in gratitude rather than assurance.
“The betrothal will happen, or it won’t,” he reminded her, shrugging. “But you have done your job well, MianMian. You are a good person.”
I am not, she whispered quiet in the back of her mind. I am a liar.
Instead, she saluted him. He bowed back.
“Let fate decide the rest,” he told her as he left, shoulders square and chin up like his entire life wasn’t spread out at his feet, destiny written in the stars. Walked away like she wouldn’t give absolutely everything to be him, not for the fame but for one singular woman, for the promise of something good and pure to come home to, to feel love and know that it is real.
MianMian watched him until he disappeared. Waited until she was back in her quarters to scream into her hands, tears biting at the back of her throat, helplessness crushing down on her like the weight of the world.
~*~*~*~*~
The YunmengJiang contingent was met with fanfare, an escort and a lively response from the village, the townspeople festive and celebratory as if the wedding was already upon them. It made Wei Wuxian roll his eyes from his spot at Jiang Yanli’s left, leaning around her to say to Jiang Cheng, “Is it you or shijie they’re trying to impress? They sure didn’t miss an opportunity to show off their wealth.”
Jiang Cheng shot him a glare and a hissed order to keep his mouth shut. He nodded toward the villagers who have stopped to bow to them and replied through his teeth, “Ostentatious.”
“Are you sure you want to marry into this?” A-Xian demanded as they reached the bottom of Carp Tower, resplendent and gold and sitting at the top of such a grand staircase that she could already feel her knees getting sore. He made a face like he had tasted something acidic. “Shijie deserves better than someone who couldn’t be bothered to meet her at the gate. He made such a show of grandeur but couldn’t go out of his way?”
But he had never seen the letters, didn’t know even a hint of the gentleness in Jin Zixuan’s soul, so she scolded him, “A-Xian, be nice. I’m sure their ceremonies are different than ours.”
He quieted for the moment, but she didn’t miss the way her brothers exchanged a long, judgmental look behind her back. She smacked their arms as they made their way up the stairs, her brothers and their escorts waiting politely when she had to rest to catch her breath. She thought this might be the worst part of Lanling—she couldn’t imagine climbing these stairs just to come home, thought suddenly and with a pain her chest for the wooden piers and sweet-smelling ponds of Lotus Pier.
They were greeted at the top by Sect Leader Jin with Jin Zixuan hovering at his elbow, eyes on Jiang Yanli and a bashful smile spreading across his lips. She felt herself flush under his gaze and hoped he didn’t notice her hands shaking as she saluted in sync with her brothers. She couldn’t help but to think he was still handsome, aristocratic and untouchable, unmatched and a little intimidating. She thought of the words meant only for her, stored in a box she kept sealed and hidden away from her brothers’ eyes, and felt her skin burn a little hotter. Anticipation and curiosity and a big, unfathomable question stretched between them, and this week would bring an answer.
Sect Leader Jin pulled her brothers into a conversation about something or another, sect business and politics and matters she knew Jin Guangshan did not believe involved the opinion of women. She kept her gaze down, hoped to make herself smaller, but saw out of the corner of her eye as Madam Jin sent a sharp elbow into her son’s side, making him wince. She muttered something to him that was lost in Jin Guangshan’s booming voice, spurring Jin Zixuan into a step forward, and then another.
She looked up when he stopped in front of her, looking more nervous and uncertain than she had ever seen him. Jiang Yanli felt her brothers’ searing gazes on her back as he dipped into a low bow and a humble salute, murmured her name in greeting.
It was… more uncomfortable than she had expected, and she kicked herself for it. She had spent too long imagining a fairy tale, perhaps, something otherworldly and perfect. Jin Zixuan stood straight and smiled politely down at her and she hated her own feeling of disappointment, hated that she had built up a version of him that was so much more than the man he could ever be—
“Lady Jiang,” he murmured with a kindness, a politeness that tasted a little too bitter. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me today? I would like to show you Lanling.”
It was not like the poetry. Jiang Yanli reminded herself that it was the same man, the one behind the words and the ones awkwardly stumbling his way through an invitation. It was almost cute, she decided. She resolved to keep her mind open, to stop letting expectation outmatch reality.
“I would love to,” she replied, taking his elbow when he offered it. She carefully did not look behind her at whatever looks were on her brothers’ faces, though she was sure they would scowl as Jin Zixuan swept her away—and back down the damned stairs they just spent all of that time climbing.
~*~*~*~*~
MianMian had been lucky in the little, subtle ways. It usually ended up bittersweet, little pieces of wonderful that came back to curse her later. She became a cultivator under the Jin sect but struggled to find equality and respect. She was gifted a project by Jin Zixuan only to fall in love with a girl she had never met.
It shouldn’t have been much of a surprise to be given the assignment of being Jiang Yanli’s attendant for her week in Lanling, but it was. MianMian pleaded for anything else, perhaps an assignment behind the scenes, but she was informed that she would not be reassigned. Young Master Jin had requested such an arrangement himself.
She wondered, vaguely, if it was meant to be a thank you. If he had placed her in a situation he hadn’t known was precarious as a way of allowing her to become friends with this person he had asked her to woo and confound.
MianMian almost wished she’d just stayed on the streets.
MianMian spent about an hour this evening alone just staring at a wall while Jiang Yanli bathed on the other side of a screen, digging her fingernails into her skin to keep her thoughts from going inappropriately astray. Now, she stood behind Jiang Yanli braiding her hair with careful fingers, hoping the other woman didn’t notice she was shaking.
Jiang Yanli was more beautiful than she remembered. It was an ache behind her ribs, a painful twist in her throat.
MianMian was barely four plaits through before Jiang Yanli asked softly, “Is your Young Master in bad health?”
MianMian faltered, hesitated—and then remembered where she was and kept going. “In bad health?”
“He has been acting strangely,” Jiang Yanli clarified simply. MianMian glanced up just long enough to see she was frowning, thoughtfully gazing toward the window as if to search for the stars. “He is… unlike I expected.”
MianMian had no idea what propriety said to do in a situation such as this, didn’t know if her loyalty should rest with her adopted sect or with the woman who held her bleeding heart in unknowing fingers. “If there are irregularities in his behavior, perhaps Young Master Jin is simply nervous,” MianMian offered halfheartedly, and because she had a death wish she added, “Anyone caught in such beauty as yours may find themselves stumbling through their words and actions.”
Jiang Yanli turned her head toward MianMian, eyes wide. Her cheeks flushed and then she turned back to face front, ducking her head as if bashful. MianMian was fairly sure her heart was about to explode.
“You are very kind, MianMian,” Jiang Yanli replied quietly, staring down at her hands on her lap as they wrapped around each other. They looked like they would be nimble, soft. MianMian focused back on the braid so as to not lose her mind completely. “Perhaps you would be able to help me, as someone who may know him well.”
“I will try, Maiden Jiang,” MianMian promised her, internally screaming.
“Young Master Jin has been writing me letters,” Jiang Yanli began, and MianMian nearly fumbled and dropped the strands of hair nearly fully braided. “He is not the same in person, at least not so far. It may be nerves, but it seems as though he is another person in writing. Does that make sense?”
MianMian measured the distance between herself the nearest window she could potentially fling herself out of. “He may be as nervous as you are,” MianMian replied, and then quickly continued, “Not that I dare to assume Maiden Jiang is nervous, of course. But he may be having problems adjusting what was on the page to the real, flesh-and-bone person now in front of his eyes. He may be stuck thinking of all the thoughts and feelings you have shared and wondering if they meant what he wanted them to mean. He may be reconciling how the world has changed so drastically now that you have met and it can be real.”
Jiang Yanli was quiet for a long time. MianMian tied off the braid and stepped back, feeling suddenly like she might have overstepped every single boundary between the senior sister of a sect and a cultivator made into little more than a maidservant. After another few heartbeats, Jiang Yanli turned around to face her, head crooked to the side as she stared at MianMian, deliberating. MianMian thought, again, of the nearest window.
And then, quietly, Jiang Yanli replied, “Your sentiments are beautiful.”
MianMian ducked her head in an informal bow of thanks. Jiang Yanli was still looking at her when she raised her gaze, but this time she was smiling softly.
“I will consider that when I meet Young Master Jin again tomorrow,” she assured MianMian, as if she was the one who needed it. “You are very thoughtful, and very loyal.”
“The Jin family has been kind to me,” MianMian managed to say, and then bowed. “Is Maiden Jiang in need of anything else tonight?”
“I am more than fine, please get some rest,” Jiang Yanli said with a bright smile. She hesitated, and MianMian took the opportunity to head for the door, walking a little too fast and hoping the beautiful woman at the vanity might not notice. She was at the doorway when Jiang Yanli called cautiously, “I would much appreciate your insights in the future as well.”
MianMian was going to shove her head into the mouth of the next monster she is sent to hunt. She figured it might be atonement enough if she let it chew up and mince her bones, might remind her of her precarious place in this home that will never be hers.
She didn’t let it show on her face or in her voice, but she assured the lady that it will be so. She closed the door to the lavish guest rooms and all but took off at a sprint to her bedroom, hands shaking so badly she could barely grip her brush, shaking so badly that she has to write her next letter more than once.
~*~*~*~*~
Maiden Jiang,
It has been a gift to spend this time with you. I cannot help but to selfishly want more.
Yours truly.
~*~*~*~*~
They stay up talking late into the third night, on the eve of the hunt on Phoenix Mountain. They were cut short on the second night, MianMian whisked away to help deal with some preparation or another. Jiang Yanli was sure she must be just as busy, if not busier, than she was yesterday, but she cannot help but to monopolize MianMian’s time. MianMian doesn’t complain, holding a cup of tea in her slim fingers like it is something precious. Jiang Yanli caught herself staring at those fingers several times already, hoped with her whole heart that her companion hadn’t noticed.
Jiang Yanli liked MianMian’s company, has found comfort in it. The last two days, she had found herself craving it more than she had Jin Zixuan’s, perhaps because there was a safety in their quiet companionship, in their gentle understanding. Jin Zixuan’s presence brought with it an unintentional pressure, the inevitability of something new that she was growing more and more uncertain about wanting.
MianMian was quite pretty, big eyes and round cheeks and sweet smile. Jiang Yanli couldn’t help but to notice, tried to stop herself from caring.
“I’ve still been receiving letters,” Jiang Yanli informed her, pausing to take a sip of the tea and smiling against a hint of Yunmeng spice. “Every night, since I’ve been here. They are pushed under my door, and I typically find them when I wake.”
“What do they say?”
“They’re sweet, charming. But then I meet with Jin Zixuan and he doesn’t act as though it ever happened.”
“Perhaps he is acting coy.”
“He is far from the type, MianMian.”
MianMian laughed and then hurriedly smothered it in her tea, but Jiang Yanli could still see the upward curve of her lips. “Well, what is the saying? Love makes fools of us all?”
“It’s almost a bit frustrating,” Jiang Yanli admitted. “It’s as though I am having one-sided conversations.”
“He gets flustered around you, Maiden Jiang.”
“That is the problem—he was never flustered in the letters.”
“Being face to face is different. There are expectations, intensity. It is greater pressure to sit across from the person dear to one’s heart than it is to write to them. The writing does not feel like a mountain to climb.”
Jiang Yanli hummed, and then suddenly couldn’t help but to ask, “Have you ever been in love?”
MianMian sputtered her sip of tea, setting the cup down. Her cheeks flushed red, either from choking or embarrassment, but Jiang Yanli couldn’t help but to think it was charming either way. MianMian kept her eyes down as she asked, “Why would you ask that, Maiden Jiang?”
“You seem very knowledgeable of such things.”
“Books,” MianMian choked out, and then turned redder. “I mean, all from stories, I assure you.”
“Of course,” Jiang Yanli assured her, biting back her amusement. There was something oddly captivating about this cultivator, something soft and protective and charming. It might not be so bad to live in Lanling if it contained people like MianMian.
Between them, it was easy. It was a quiet comfort, a lullaby.
“Will you be participating in the hunt tomorrow?”
“Yes,” MianMian confirmed easily, even as she grimaced. She stood slowly from the table, explained, “That is why I must now beg my leave for tonight. Much to do in the morning.”
“Of course.” Jiang Yanli hesitated, and then said, “I’ll save you a flower.”
MianMian froze, turned wide eyes to Jiang Yanli. She was delightfully pretty like this, when she was flustered to speechlessness. Jiang Yanli hadn’t ever thought so much about another person, let alone another woman. It made her want to be bold. It made her want to ask more question, maybe even to tease her a little more. It made her want to reach out to MianMian and touch her lips, see if they were as soft as they looked.
MianMian managed to say something like a goodnight before fleeing from the room, closing the door softly behind her. Jiang Yanli watched her go, felt the shock settle into her bones as she wondered after her own boldness. Wondered what about MianMian had made her yearn for something so different, something that might send the world as she knew it into a tailspin.
Jiang Yanli tried to stay awake long enough to catch the delivery of the newest letter but drifted off between one minute and the next, waking up to another perfectly sealed envelope slipped under her door, the red wax seal sharp against the morning light.
~*~*~*~*~
Maiden Jiang,
I will fight in your honor today. Today, and every day hereafter.
Yours truly.
~*~*~*~*~
Jin Zixuan was going to ask Jiang Yanli to marry him.
He told MianMian first, the moment they crossed the barrier into the hunting ground. They left the crowds behind them, flowers from Jiang Yanli tucked safely onto each of their persons—and oh if that flower for MianMian hadn’t caused quite a stir, hadn’t made jaws drop and suspicious eyes follow her through the procession the rest of the way to the tree line—and, when they passed through, Jin Zixuan turned to her and told her, boldfaced and… uncertain.
“My mother believes it is for the best to do it now,” he murmured to her, striding so close their shoulders brushed. Some of the whispers in the sect told of them in love, as laughable as it were, and MianMian understood it in moments like this, when he walked a little close. If Jin Zixuan were a little less clueless and MianMian a little less interested in women, the rumors might have had at least a little basis in reality.
“Is this what you want?” she asked even if she wanted to scream. This world had always been cruel to MianMian but Jiang Yanli has been nothing but kind, and she was not ready to lose it. She wanted to hang onto that kindness even if it was not always meant for her.
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Jin Zixuan reminded her. “It’s a political marriage. And I don’t mind either way.”
He should want to bow down before Jiang Yanli, beg on his knees. He should want to fight for her, to be a better person for her. Jin Zixuan should not marry her if he did not love and worship her, but the world was not as black and white. MianMian would be foolish to believe that love ever meant anything when it came to power.
So she told him what he wanted to hear, encouraged him with simple praises and assurances until he was solemn, determined. MianMian had never hated him more than in that moment, had thought him a friend but now wanted to hate him like the worst of enemies.
Jin Zixuan always got the best, beautiful things.
So MianMian followed him through the woods, hovered out of sight on his orders to keep them safe as he let his guard down, fetched Jiang Yanli from the watchtowers for a “walk”. She witnessed from afar how awkward and uncomfortable the two seemed to be alone, as if they had long run out of things to talk about—he told her about the monsters in the mountain and she politely encouraged him, the picture of a docile wife to a powerful man.
MianMian suspected that, given the chance, Jiang Yanli could hold power, could command rooms and armies and worlds. MianMian had a feeling that, given the chance, Jiang Yanli could roar.
Jin Zixuan couldn’t seem to stop filling the silence with facts about a Measuring Snake. MianMian almost felt bad for him, especially when she saw the abject disinterest on Jiang Yanli’s face. MianMian could certainly understand now why Jiang Yanli was so immediately suspicious about the source of the letters, the blatant disconnect.
And then, Jin Zixuan stopped. Stopped talking, walking, seemed to even stop breathing. Jiang Yanli looked up in surprise, perhaps even concern. MianMian curled her fingers into the bark of a tree, painfully swallowing the bitter sting in the back of her throat.
“Maiden Jiang,” Jin Zixuan choked out, and then cleared his throat. He reached out for her hand and Jiang Yanli met him halfway, though her expression was mostly just confused. “We have been betrothed since before we were born, tethered to each other before we had a choice in the matter. Now, however, the circumstances are different. We are old enough to make our own decisions and I hope this can be one we make together.”
It was clear what he was about to ask. MianMian wished that she didn’t have to be here but couldn’t leave them without a scout, couldn’t leave her Young Master and the woman she loved without someone stationed to protect them.
But Jiang Yanli didn’t look overjoyed. She looked thoughtful, and she tilted her head when she looked at him. The sun caught on her hair, made her look ethereal in purple and gold.
Her voice was clear and confident when she asked, “What shapes do you find in the stars?”
It was—a test. MianMian’s breaths stopped short in her chest when she realized it was one Jin Zixuan could not ever pass, that Jiang Yanli knew the words of MianMian’s letters as well as MianMian knew hers. Jin Zixuan paused as if startled, stared at Jiang Yanli for a moment too long.
He didn’t need to answer for her to understand. Jiang Yanli smiled, and it was sad. So, so sad, as if she knew she shouldn’t be disappointed but she still was.
“Oh, Young Master Jin,” she murmured, her voice carrying in the rustle of the leaves and the quiet of the hunting grounds. “You didn’t write me those letters, did you?”
Jin Zixuan opened his mouth, closed it. His shoulders slumped, and he looked as though he might try to explain until there was a sharp snap of something that might have been a whole tree and a voice roared, “He what?”
A rush of resentful energy, and then Wei Wuxian was landing beside them, face twisted in rage. In a flash, Lan Wangji was hovering beside him, hand reached out as if he were unsure whether he wanted to grab Wei Wuxian or his weapon. MianMian couldn’t help but to sympathize with the poor bastard, could see the lovesick yearning as easily as if it were written across that forehead ribbon—knew too well what to look for.
MianMian curled her hand on the hilt of her sword, hesitated in the shadows for a moment too long. Wei Wuxian was already rounding on Jin Zixuan, causing the other man to surrender Jiang Yanli’s hand in lieu of grabbing for his sword. In response, Lan Wangji decided to unsheathe Bichen, a pillar of solidarity at the Yiling Laozu’s right-hand side. Jin Zixuan’s eyebrows rose, just a hair.
Wei Wuxian shouted, “You assigned someone to write to her as you, didn’t you? Typical! The Jin clan truly has no shame! All these titles and too much pride!”
“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli whispered only to be overshadowed by Jin Zixuan snapping back, “I have done wrong, I admit that. But to be called shameless by the likes of you? To be called prideful?”
Wei Wuxian’s hand curled into a fist, the shadows dancing. MianMian eyed him cautiously, knew he would never mean to hurt his sister but not willing to take the chance on faith. She shifted forward a step, hesitated again as Wei Wuxian growled, “Who?”
Jin Zixuan stared him down. Did not speak.
Wei Wuxian surged forward a step. “Who wrote them?” Jin Zixuan didn’t move, didn’t respond. The smile on the Yiling Laozu’s face was not kind, not patient, and he added in a tone like velvet honey, “Was it your bastard-born brother?”
Jin Zixuan moved first. Wei Wuxian wielded the shadows, held in his hands the things most evil and unfortunate and unpredictable.
MianMian moved faster than she’s ever moved in her life. One second she was still gripping the tree in one hand, bark cutting into her fingertips and smearing blood against the trunk, and the next she was flying into the pathway, skidding to a stop between the quarrelling men and Jiang Yanli, sword at the ready. The flash of movement caused them both to hesitate, for the eyes of the cultivators to flash toward her—and they stayed there, pausing in their surprise. MianMian didn’t know what showed on her face but feared it was something delicately desperate, wondered if they could see the fear of the end that she could taste in the back of her throat.
Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows shot up, gaze skittering backward toward Hanguang-Jun before centering back on her. Jin Zixuan’s mouth pulled a little tighter, a little more displeased, but MianMian didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t relax in her defense of Jiang Yanli.
Lan Wangji’s eyes went soft in quiet understanding, reading the same in her face as she had read in his. He reached out and touched Wei Wuxian’s wrist, the breath of a touch. A quiet request to stand down.
Wei Wuxian hesitated, eyes sharp and merciless, and then did. The shadows dispersed back toward the tree line, and a quiet whisper from behind MianMian managed to say, “MianMian?”
MianMian ignored Jiang Yanli. Felt her hands start to shake anyway.
Wei Wuxian understood, somehow. His eyebrows rose, and he muttered, “Oh. Is that right?”
“MianMian,” Jin Zixuan snapped, “what are you doing?”
“Stop it,” she ordered weakly, stared down three cultivators so much stronger than her but did not lower her blade. “You could hurt her if you fight now. You could draw unwanted attention.”
The situation was tenuous and complicated enough—she knew the plea was enough when Jin Zixuan lowered his sword without hesitation, even as his mouth curled tighter in anger. She didn’t dare meet his eyes even as she did not put away her own weapon, didn’t so much as lower it against these men who could so easily overpower her in a fight. She didn’t care about the odds, didn’t care about the consequences—not until she felt a hand curl around her arm and squeeze, and Jiang Yanli said again, “MianMian.”
MianMian hesitated, rust in her mouth like her body was trying to cough up bad blood, trying to cure herself of a fatal injury. She lowered her weapon and turned halfway to face Jiang Yanli, swallowing hard as she reluctantly met her eyes. Jiang Yanli stared at her like she didn’t even recognize her, like she was some kind of stranger. MianMian wanted to throw herself into the sun, didn’t know if she wanted to cry or to shed her connections to LanlingJin and never be seen again.
Jiang Yanli sounded so quiet, so sad, when she whispered, “It was you?”
MianMian wanted to scream, barely managed to whisper when she replied, “I’m sorry, Maiden Jiang.”
She turned to face Jin Zixuan. He watched them with an expression on his face that she couldn’t quite decipher, one that she had never seen before in all of the long years she had known him.
“You shouldn’t marry her,” MianMian murmured to him, “unless you love her.”
He stared at her. Stared, and then sharply looked away.
MianMian sheathed her sword and wasted no time before rushing off, disappearing back into the trees and pushing her legs to run faster, faster, until she could leave all of this behind in that horrible, festering shame behind her ribs. She thought she might’ve heard Jiang Yanli call her name, thought she might’ve heard Wei Wuxian let out another cruel, echoing laugh meant for someone else. She didn’t stop, didn’t push herself any less, and if she ended up collapsing in the middle of the forest and screaming into her knees until she went hoarse and her eyes stung with the tears pouring down her face—that was for her to know.
~*~*~*~*~
MianMian did not return to Lanling until it was dark, long past when the others were asleep. She went straight for her bedroom, found it unbothered and quiet and mercifully empty. She packed with shaking hands, shoved everything into a cloth pack that did not belong to LanlingJin—she was not a thief, no matter how much she had wanted to steal the bride of the Young Master. She took her sword only, figured it was more hers than anyone else’s.
She hesitated before she left. Turned toward the writing desk, saw the box and the stationary on the surface.
One last letter, MianMian decided, sitting down hesitantly. An explanation. She owed Jiang Yanli that much.
She wrote quickly, deliberately. The words were the easiest part, always had been.
She sealed it neatly in an envelope, didn’t bother with the seal. She stared at the box, considered leaving it—those words were not for her, meant for an imaginary man she had pretended to be. She stared at it for a long moment before she grabbed it, shoved it at the top of her pack and retied it. She grabbed the new envelope and set out, never giving her room a backwards glance.
Maybe she was a thief, after all.
~*~*~*~*~
Maiden Jiang,
I have wronged you in the most horrible way. I will never be able to apologize enough for my lies, for my subterfuge. It was an assignment I was ordered to take but it continued to such a vulnerable extent because I allowed it to, because I dared to dream of something that I should have never reached for.
I attempted the impossible, but I am not a member of the Jiang clan. I should have known impossibility was not something that could be caught between my fingers.
I wish you all the best in the world, Maiden Jiang. Fate has not been kind to you and yet you still radiate gentleness, kindness. You are happy despite the cruelty and I admire you. Truly, I do.
Goodbye, Maiden Jiang. I hope you still have the heart to look into the night sky and dream of beautiful things.
Yours truly,
MianMian
~*~*~*~*~
MianMian held the envelope in her hands, hesitated outside of Jiang Yanli’s door. She could easily, simply just take the letter with her; Jiang Yanli would never know. She would never know what she had lost but MianMian would, and that was a just punishment for what she had done. MianMian knew she deserved worse, knew that she would receive it if she dared linger for longer.
She took a deep breath in, shoved the envelope under the door before she could doubt herself. She turned to leave—
The door swung open. “MianMian.”
MianMian froze. She swallowed the urge to take off running and slowly turned to face Jiang Yanli instead, curling her hands into fists at her side. Jiang Yanli followed the movement and saw the pack in her hands, saw that MianMian was no longer wearing the robes of the LanlingJin Sect. Her eyes widened, snapping up to MianMian’s face.
MianMian looked away, waited for the rage and disgust and accusations.
Jiang Yanli didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Come in,” she finally murmured, and MianMian was in too deep to say no.
MianMian set her pack carefully next to the door, didn’t walk into the room more than a handful of steps before pausing, eyes on the ground. She watched Jiang Yanli reach down to the envelope, heard her open the letter and unfold it before reading. It was so silent that MianMian could only hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, so silent that she heard Jiang Yanli’s breath falter at one of the lines—she didn’t dare look up to see which one, didn’t dare wonder about impossibility or how foreign it felt to sign her own name like a secret.
Jiang Yanli folded up the paper slowly, carefully, and set it aside. MianMian didn’t once look up, staring down at her feet and barely resisting the urge to drop to her knees and beg for forgiveness, beg for mercy—beg for absolution from a goddess of impossible things.
Jiang Yanli stepped forward until she was right in front of MianMian, close enough to touch. She reached out and put her fingers under MianMian’s chin, guided her to look up. MianMian forced herself to meet her gaze, warm brown eyes and a quiet, forgiving smile. MianMian felt tears bite at her eyes and blinked them away impatiently, stared dumbfounded at that kind smile.
“You’re leaving.”
It wasn’t a question, but MianMian still replied, “Yes.”
“Where will you go?”
“I’m not sure, Maiden Jiang.”
Jiang Yanli’s fingers tightened on her chin. “Would you… be interested in Lotus Pier?”
MianMian’s eyes flew wide, stared incredulously at Jiang Yanli. Jiang Yanli didn’t so much as blink even as her cheeks pinked, waiting patiently for MianMian’s answer.
“I might be,” MianMian practically croaked. Jiang Yanli smiled.
“Good,” she said, fingers still pressed against MianMian’s chin, fingertips against her pulse point. MianMian wondered if Jiang Yanli could feel the heavy, frantic beating of her heart through her skin. “YunmengJiang is leaving in the morning, and I think there are things between us that must be said.”
Jiang Yanli paused. MianMian had always thought she would have to be the brave one, thought that much until she was watching Jiang Yanli be brave. She wanted to speak but stood so frozen against the pressure of those soft, warm hands.
Jiang Yanli murmured, “I think I might have fallen in love with beautiful words. I would like to see what happens next.”
It was too much and not enough all at once. Still, MianMian felt her face break into a smile, felt herself gasp for the breath that she has been holding. Jiang Yanli smiled down at her like it was charming.
“Okay,” MianMian whispered back, curling her hand against Jiang Yanli’s wrist.
Jiang Yanli smiled bashfully. She dipped forward quickly, pressing her lips to MianMian’s bottom lip in a simple brush like a daydream, like sunshine and saltwater and the quiet, gentle rock of a hypnotic current. MianMian stared up at her in wide-eyed surprise, saw the vast, limitless sky and all of its stars in her eyes.
“Okay,” Jiang Yanli murmured—a simple promise in the dark, a vow in hammering heartbeats and unspoken things.
An attempt at the most beautiful of impossibilities.