Chapter Text
As is usual for such conflicts, the beginning of the Cultivation War is murky, and all dependent on who you ask.
If you spoke to anyone in the Lan Clan, for instance, you would be told that a century ago, the daughter of their sect leader at the time was abducted by the heir to the Jiang clan.
The Lans, ever righteous and just, did what honor demanded. They marched on Lotus Pier, and demanded their family member be returned to them. When the Jiangs refused, a battle broke out—in which the heir was killed.
It was then they learned the two had already mated.
As anyone knows—if you kill one mate, you risk losing the other if the bond is strong enough.
Tragically, this was such a case—and the Lan sect leader was forced to watch his daughter fade away in his arms.
War had been raging ever since.
The Jiangs know a very different tale.
That their heir had gone to the Cloud Recesses for an education, only to have her heart captured by the most beautiful omega she had ever seen—daughter to the sect leader.
She asked for her hand—only to be refused.
The young woman she desired was already promised to another.
But the two were madly in love—and so they ran away together.
The Lans were proud and stubborn, and refused to be insulted. They marched on Lotus Pier, attacked unprovoked, and murdered the heir to their clan.
And subsequently caused the death of their own flesh and blood.
The Jiangs were grief stricken and outraged, and they would only accept one thing in return:
That the Lan sect leader and his eldest leader take their own lives as payment.
For their fallen heir, and the unborn child her mate was rumored to have been carrying before her death.
Two Lans for two Jiangs.
Naturally, self-righteous hypocrites that they were, the Lans refused to take any responsibility.
The war that followed, soaking the land with blood, was their fault alone.
The sects divided along predictable lines.
The Jins, to whom the fallen omega had been promised, were equally insulted and chose to fight alongside the Lans.
The Nie, long time allies of the Jiangs, joined them.
And the Wens, most powerful of them all, chose to remain neutral, not wanting to unfairly tip the scales.
Many argued that their refusal to step in allowed the war to rage far longer than it should have, eliminating entire generations of cultivators—and that suited the Wens just fine.
There is no surrender in a cultivation war—there is only attrition.
But that isn’t to say that attempts at making peace have never been made.
Sporadically, peace talks are held in the hopes of ending things.
The third summit of this kind is held on the war’s one hundredth year, in neutral Wen territory.
“Lan Qiren,” Jin Guangshan muses, watching his former classmate with avid interest. “I expected Qingheng-Jun to attend talks of this nature. Is he not well?”
The Lan elder bows his head politely.
“He is unwell. Rest assured, I have full authority to speak on his behalf.”
It is then that they make eye contact with the men sitting across from them:
Old man Nie, and Jiang Fengmian. The former is always scowling—but the younger sect leader, known for being gentle natured, looks uncommonly cold.
“...It was a shame, Wei Changze’s death.” Jin Guangshan offers, his tone brimming with fake sympathy. “You two were...quite close, I hear.”
Jiang Fengmian is, for once, unmoved. “I’m surprised you think so. It was a Jin who killed him.”
Jin Guangshan raises his hands helplessly. “Unruly cousins, what can you do?”
Lan Qiren clears his throat. “It is my understanding that his mate did not survive.”
“She did not.”
“...My sympathies to their son. I understand he is quite young.”
Jiang Fengmian’s posture is unchanged—but his eyes soften just a hair.
“He is. Five years old. I plan to raise him in my own household.”
Lan Qiren nods. It’s the honorable thing to do, for such a dear fallen comrade.
“...I heard about Madam Lan’s passing,” Jiang Fengmian makes one small concession. “I understand your nephews are young as well.”
“Yes. Seven and nine.”
These rare, cordial words did not last.
No one could have expected them to, and it was a miracle the summit was conducted at all, given how Jiang Fengmian’s dear friend had been slaughtered during a ceasefire.
Fighting resumed shortly after, and there was not another summit for ten long years.
“...I don’t like this,” Jiang Cheng sighs, leaning against the wooden balcony railing. “Why are we even here?”
“Easy,” a raven-haired boy climbs on the railing beside him. “We’re hostages!”
“A’Ying,” Yanli sighs. “Please don’t let anyone hear you say that.”
“Is it true?”
“Of course. Everyone knows the Jins break cease fires all the time! So, everyone had to bring their children as collateral this time. See? Nie Huaisang is here, Jin Zixuan, too.”
“And the twin jades of Lan,” Jiang Yanli offers.
“Exactly!” Wei Ying beams “And we’re all hostages!”
“...You sound way too happy about that,” Jiang Cheng grumbles.
Wei Ying swings his feet, refusing to drop his smile. “You have to be important to be a hostage.”
(And he takes validation where and when he can get it.)
“Or jiejie and I are the hostages, and you’re here so we don’t get bored.”
That knocks the smile halfway off of Wei Ying’s face, his exuberance dimming. “Yeah, that too...”
Yanli reaches over to pat his cheek.
“I think you’re a wonderful hostage, A’Ying...”
That brings the smile back to his face, just as bright as before.
When he looks down, he sees two older teenagers walking in the courtyard below. Each tall, proud, dressed in white.
The sight of the clouds on their headbands makes Jiang Cheng sneer.
Lans.
His older sister wrinkles her nose, leaning away from him.
Jiang Cheng presented particularly young for an alpha, and it’s done little to help with his aggressive, moody nature. And his scent can be particularly noticeable when his emotions are high.
Wei Ying, as of yet unpresented, doesn’t notice at all.
He’s watching the young men with keen curiosity as they walk below, leaning over the railing even further—to the point where it’s a miracle that he doesn’t fall.
“What are their names, again?”
“Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji,” Yanli explains quietly, not rising from her seat to join him. “Isn’t Lan Xichen the oldest?”
“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng nods. “But Lan Wangji is the one who is going to inherit.”
“How come?”
“Because the older one presented as an omega.”
It’s a similar situation in their own family. Jiang Yanli is the eldest—but Jiang Cheng is the alpha.
And then there’s Wei Ying. Unpresented, but he doubts it matters. He’s a ward. He won’t inherit anything, or marry anyone of consequence.
But for now, he’s far more curious about the Lan brothers.
They’ve been raised to see their enemies a certain way. Stiff, cold, and heartless.
They certainly look that way.
Wei Ying just didn’t think you could be all of those things and handsome at the same time.
And they are. From the side it's difficult to tell which one is the elder. They're both similar in build and height, but when the slightly taller one looks over, amber eyes meeting Wei Ying's—
That's definitely not the omega.
He isn't sure how he knows—but he does.
Naturally, there's only one thing to do when one is faced with their family's ancient blood enemy—
Wei Ying smiles, batting his eyelashes.
The older boy's eyes narrow into a glare, his head whipping to the side, and even from here, Wei Ying hears one word;
"Shameless!"
And for once, a Jiang and a Lan seem to be of the same mind—because Jiang Cheng reaches out to snatch his arm, pulling him back from the balcony.
"What are you doing?!"
"...Isn't it obvious? Trying to gross him out. And it worked! Did you see—?"
Even Jiang Yanli sounds disapproving, finally looking up from her book. "A'Ying, you really shouldn't do that to alphas you don't know. Especially if they're from families that are hostile to ours."
Wei Ying doesn't see what there is to be concerned about.
He hasn't presented yet, and he's already fifteen years old. With every month that passes, he's more and more likely not to present at all.
Which is unusual, given that he comes from a long line of alphas on his father's side (with his mother, who knows.)
Point being—it's highly unlikely that him batting his eyelashes at some highborn Lan is going to cause the end of the world. Or that he has to worry about that sort of thing in general.
Inside the main building, where the meeting is taking place—tensions are just as high.
"Absolutely not." Lan Qiren's back is stiff, and his voice is equally firm. "It's a preposterous notion."
"Now, now," Jin Guangshan smiles, holding his hands up between the two. "It's not that ridiculous—"
"I agree," Jiang Fengmian crosses his arms.
"It's out of the question. I won't bring an enemy into our home. Especially not one who would look down on us, and never respect our ways—"
"I'll have you know," Lan Qiren's eyes flash, "Lan Xichen is the most respectful young man you would ever have the pleasure of knowing."
And it's for precisely that reason that he would never agree to such a horrible match. Lan Xichen is graceful, highly educated, and has the best temperament any teenager could be expected to have.
Marrying him to a Jiang would be the gravest of insults.
Jiang Fengmian is a far more open-minded man. He would prefer for his children to have the love match that he himself was denied—and even still, he knows his son.
Jiang Cheng needs someone who compliments him. Supports him. Not someone who outshines him.
And even if that were not an issue—it would make his grandchildren Lans by blood. Raised by a Lan. Having their family so deeply intertwined with Gusu would never be accepted back home.
"Coming from the man who turned his nose up at my daughter."
Were it not for the renowned discipline of the Lan clan, Lan Qiren's face would have twisted into a grimace.
It is not Jiang Yanli that he finds distasteful. By all measures, she seems to be a kind, well-mannered young woman.
And he has no doubt that she would be miserable.
Even he is not so honor bound that he could subject that poor, gentle hearted girl to a lifetime bonded to his nephew.
Lan Wangji has many virtues, but he is just as likely to chew her up and spit her out without ever meaning to, or even raising his voice.
"Gentlemen," Jin Guangshan smiles thinly. "I understand your reservations, but we have tried treaties in the past, and they have failed. If we want this to stick, there must be something with more permanence to it."
The new Nie sect leader rolls his eyes with a deep scowl.
"I don't see you offering your son up," Nie Mingjue grouses, sending him a disgusted look.
Typically, the Nie and the Jin clans have not had such hostile relation as the Jiangs and the Lans, more enemies of circumstance than actual resentment, but...
Jin Guangshan's eyes widen. "Oh, but they each have two children. I have just the one."
One legitimate son, anyhow. Countless bastards notwithstanding.
And for that reason alone, Nie Mingjue finds him vile.
"Unless you're offering your little brother to us."
The mere mention sends Nie Mingjue's hackles rising, and the meeting doesn't last much longer thereafter.
The outcome is ever the same; neither family is willing to accept a match where a Lan marries into the Jiang clan, and there is no Jiang suitable to marry a Lan.
With a lack of options, the talks fall through—and with little sense of urgency.
The fighting has been going on for so long, there is no mortal man who can remember a time before it. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. The people of Gusu and Yunmeng are at war.
Each are facts of nature, and each feel immovable. They have never known any different.
And while many were hoping for more coming out of such talks—the children of the sect leaders are the most eager to leave.
"Jiang Cheng, carry me!"
"Hell no!"
"C'mon!" Wei Ying whines, angling to jump on his back. "Don't be mean! It's good training for you! It'll make you big and strong!"
"Why should I? You're not a baby. You're older than I am!"
"Nope, I'm still a baby. Didn't they tell you?"
"I'm not in the mood for this, alright? Just fly on your damn sword if you don't want to walk so badly!"
Wei Ying's lower lip juts out, and he huffs. He might be going about it in his usual, obnoxious way—but he really is tired.
It's abnormal. Normally he has more stamina than almost anyone—but he might be coming down with something.
"C'mon!" He pleads, attempting to throw himself over Jiang Cheng's back one more time, only for his shidi to glare at him, giving him a shove.
"I said to cut it out!"
Wei Ying stumbles, prepared to fall to the ground and whine and complain until Jiang Cheng is so embarrassed by the scene that he decides to carry him anyway, but—
There's a firm grip on his arm, arresting his fall, and when he looks up...
He sees those same eyes from before.
This intense, burning gaze that leaves him startled for a rare moment of speechlessness.
And Wei Ying wouldn’t say he’s been the type to care about what people smell like. He isn’t like Jiang Cheng or Yanli, constantly covering their noses with distaste.
But when the smell of sandalwood creeps into his nostrils—
He feels an unfamiliar tingling run down his spine.
And in an instant, the moment is over.
He’s been yanked back by the collar of his robes, pulled behind Jiang Cheng as he snarls. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
Wei Ying leans around him to get a better look, only to find the Lan staring back at the two of them impassively.
“Catching him.”
“No one asked you to!”
“Don’t throw him to the ground, next time.”
Jiang Cheng really didn’t do that. It was Wei Ying’s fault, but...
Something about the Lan’s gaze makes them both feel scolded. Even if he’s not their senior, and it’s not his place.
“...As if I would ever take orders from your kind,” Jiang Cheng snarls, taking Wei Ying by the arm as he drags him off. “Come on, Wei Wuxian!”
He goes with him, occasionally glancing back over his shoulder at the shrinking figure behind them, now flanked by other members of his clan.
If they ever see one another again, it will most likely be on the battlefield.
Wei Ying can’t put his finger on why he dreads that.
He doesn’t ask to be carried again, but as the day goes on, he walks slower, trailing further and further behind. By the time they leave neutral territory and mount their swords, he barely has the energy to do the same.
Eventually it’s enough to catch Jiang Fengmian’s attention, the procession coming to a halt as the sect leader descends with his ward, taking him by the shoulders as he looks him in the eye.
And it only takes a moment of examination for his expression to become grim.
Wei Ying stares back up at him blearily, swaying slightly on his feet. “I—”
Jiang Fengmian is normally always patient enough to listen to what he has to say—but this time, he turns away from him, speaking to one of the doctors that accompanied them on the road.
“Do we have time to make it back to Lotus Pier?”
The doctor glances at Wei Ying, examining his color—then shakes his head.
“I wouldn’t recommend it, sir. We’re exposed on the road, and traveling with such a large party...”
Wei Ying frowns, his head pounding
What are they so worried about, and what does it have to do with him? Can’t they just keep moving? He wants his bed, it feels like be’s coming down with—
Jiang Fengmian turns back, speaking a few quiet words to two of the guards, then summons his daughter to his side.
“A small party of you will be staying behind while the rest of us continue on,” he explains, grasping her shoulder as he glances at Wei Ying once again. “I’ll need you to help him.”
Wei Ying frowns, grasping a tree to steady himself.
“I’m not that sick, k can make it...”
Jiang Fengmian and Yanli share another knowing look, and she steps forward to rub his back.
“I know, but it’ll be nice—don’t you think? Just you and me, like old times.”
“What?” Jiang Cheng frowns, hopping down from his sword to join them. “I’m staying too—!”
His father grabs him by the collar of his robes. “No,” he shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”
“What? Why?!”
“Your mother can explain it to you when we get back.”
What does Madam Yu have to do with—?
Wei Ying’s knees wobble and shake as his shijie steps forward to steady him.
It’s not an ideal situation, and even worse—no one tells Wei Ying exactly what’s going on at first.
The guards who remain with them keep a significant distance—much further than what he’s used to. They camp in a cave, rather than their usual tents.
He doesn’t start to understand until he’s already laying down on his cot, and his body begins to tremble and ache, and his temperature begins to spike.
Yanli is by his side, holding a damp cloth to his forehead, soothing him—but nothing seems to ease the pain.
Even then, he doesn’t fully grasp the problem until he asks her if he’s dying, and Jiang Yanli smiles at him grimly, stroking his hair,
“It’s something we all have to go through, A’Ying—you’ll be alright. The first time is always the worst.”
That’s when he realizes.
Wei Ying has finally presented—older than any of his peers—and as an omega.
For anyone else, this might have been horrible, disappointing news.
The only thing Wei Ying finds himself particularly caring about is how much he hates the cramping.
For him, nothing is going to change very much. Omegas are still allowed to cultivate in Yunmeng and, even more importantly—
He isn’t a Jiang. He won’t be married off. He might never have to mate at all.
That was what he thought.
When they return to Yunmeng one week later, all he wants to do is crawl into his bed and sleep for another ten years—but he can’t.
Instead, he’s practically dragged to the grand hall—devoid of anyone but Jiang Fengmian, and Madam Yu.
“For heaven’s sake—let the child rest.”
“He’s hardly a child anymore,” his wife muses, eyeing the boy where he kneels on the floor.
Unkempt hair. Wrinkled robes. Squirming, as if he’d rather be anywhere else. “Look at me, boy.”
Wei Ying is rarely ever so quiet and docile—but when it comes to Madam Yu, he does as he’s told.
She reaches forward, grasping his chin tightly as she examines his face, then turns to her husband. “Don’t allow sentimentality to cloud your judgment. We cannot afford it.”
The rationale is painfully simple:
Wei Ying presented very little political value to them as a presumed unpresented alpha. He was their strongest disciple by far, surpassing their own children—
But he was always going to be a fighter, likely to die in battle and nothing more. As an omega, he’s far more interesting.
He couldn’t have inherited before, that’s true.
But Madam Yu was an omega from a lower clan herself. One who was able to marry far above her station for one reason:
She was a powerful cultivator.
But Jiang Fengmian can’t help but find it cruel.
“Tell me, boy—how would you like to truly become a part of this family?”
Offering the child the one thing he has always wanted—all in order to manipulate him. But when he sees the look in Wei Ying’s eyes—there’s no stopping it.
The first idea is atrocious.
Simply put, Wei Ying’s political value is in the possibility of his passing his abilities on to heirs.
And while Madam Yu wants to use that—she doesn’t want to elevate him either. As such, there was a logical role for him:
A concubine.
And who better than to their own son, keeping that value within their clan?
An idea that seemed sound on paper, but fell apart quickly in practice, as both teenagers were disgusted by the notion.
She even went so far as to force her son to spend his next rut with Wei Ying in his presence— but nothing came of it.
They simply stayed on opposite corners of Jiang Cheng’s private chambers, with the Jiang heir smashing most of his bedroom furniture to vent his frustrations.
When Jiang Fengmian learned of what she had done, he became furious—and immediately put an end to it.
The next possible suitor she attempted to present her ward to, however, was not so disinterested—and the political value was far greater.
The Wen Clan rarely considers omegas from outside of Qishan, but the sect leader, Wen Ruohan, has two sons with his wife. Neither of whom he finds particularly impressive.
With her now past childbearing years, he seems intrigued by the idea.
Wei Ying is not.
It’s not that he’s hideous, like some of the other options that Madam Yu has presented—
It’s that he’s three times Wei Ying’s age, cruel, and every time they’re in the same room together, he eyes him like a piece of meat. Asking invasive questions.
About his weight. How regular his cycles are. Most disturbingly, what his pain tolerance is like.
The possibility of Wei Ying being parent to the next heir to the Wen Clan isn’t insignificant. It could finally tip the balance of the war in their favor.
Still, Wei Ying cannot seem to force himself to accept it. Running to Jiang Fengmian and asking him to stop it.
Naturally, he does.
Eventually, he grows so tired of his mate’s scheming that he does the one thing he can think of to put a stop to it.
By officially adopting the boy. Not as a ward, but as a full-fledged member of the Jiang Clan. As such, he could never be sent off as a concubine—not without insulting their own standing. A move that infuriates his wife, but even worse—
It leaves the Wens feeling slighted.
And being the object of their ire is never a good thing to be.
Still, months go by—and it’s assumed that such events have been forgotten.
Wei Ying turns sixteen, then seventeen.
And in the traditions of Yunmeng, he fights under the Jiang banner.
Gaining a reputation for being dangerous and unorthodox in battle—always wearing a black hood.
His identity is carefully guarded from the enemy—a necessity.
He wouldn’t be killed in battle—he would be captured
Jiang Cheng is betrothed to their childhood friend, Nie Huaisang—and with that, the alliance between their clans grows stronger than ever.
At the same time, another alliance begins to waiver.
During the next summit; the Lans are not invited.
“Well,” Jin Guangshan sighs, fanning himself with an heir of drama that sets everyone else’s teeth on edge. “I must say, it feels so terrible to be here without our friends, but...”
(As he says this, he doesn’t seem sorry at all.)
“We could hardly stand another insult.” Ironically, their situations are somewhat similar.
Jin Guangshan had assumed from the moment that Lan Xichen presented that he would be given to his own heir, Jin Zixuan, as a mate. It was only reasonable.
But Lan Xichen declined in a rare show of defiance. Even worse, Qingheng-Jun did not force him to comply.
The Jin representative—a dear cousin of the sect leader—sneered at their rejection. Stating that they should be grateful that the Jins were willing to accept the eldest son of Gusu.
Which invited the ire of Lan Wangji.
A man of few words, but decisive action.
The moment his brother was insulted, he calmly challenged the representative—a match where the Jin was publicly humiliated.
Left on the ground with a broken arm before he could even move a muscle.
All of these events led them here. With servants pouring tea as Jin Zixuan sits beside his father, eyeing Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian with varying degrees of distaste.
“...And what exactly did you have in mind?” Jiang Fengmian questions warily.
“Well—you know as well as I do that our wives come from clans that are friendly with each other. Jin Zixuan’s mother would be thrilled to join our families. So—we would be willing to take them both.”
Jiang Fengmian’s eyebrows raise sharply. “...Both?”
“Well,” Jin Guangshan snorts. “We wouldn’t insult you by passing over your true born daughter. We aren’t the Lans. But we would be fools not to take the boy as well.”
Wei Ying bristles from Yanli’s side, his eyes flashing.
“You think she isn’t good enough for you?”
Jin Guangshan smiles thinly, clearly offended that Wei Ying would dare to speak to him at all —particularly in that tone.
“Of course, she is. But you clearly do have your uses, and it maximizes our chances of producing a strong heir.”
Jiang Fengmian pinches the bridge of his nose
“I thought you would have already heard, but Wei Wuxian has been formally adopted into the family. We won’t be offering him as a concubine to Jin Zixuan.”
Frankly, the idea of doing so while his sister was proposed as a potential mate is deeply insulting.
“...Fine,” Jin Guangshan is still smiling, but his eyes grow colder by the minute. “I have another son. Jin Guangyao. I could legitimize him, and they could be mated. How does that sound?”
To his frustration, Jiang Fengmian looks to Wei Ying.
In Lanling, Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have even been in the room for this conversation. Here, their sect leader actively asks their opinion.
Wei Ying frowns, thinking, then leans over to whisper in his ear for a moment. Jiang Fengmian nods, then straightens.
“That would not be advisable.”
There’s a reason that Wei Ying was offered selectively in the past.
In Yunmeng, omegas are raised to only submit to suitable mates. If their partner is too weak, simply, they’re expected to eliminate them in favor of finding a stronger partner.
Wei Ying grasps the political implications of such a thing. He wouldn’t do that in his right mind.
But there’s a strong possibility that Jin Guangyao wouldn’t survive one of his heats, where blind instinct takes over.
That would be far worse than rejecting him.
In Lanling and Gusu, omegas aren’t trained to fight. As such, they never deal with such a concern.
In Yungmeng and Qinghe, however, everyone with aptitude is expected to contribute.
“We would be willing to accept a match between my daughter and Jin Zixuan, but that is all.”
Wei Ying notably isn’t offered to the heir as a possible mate, either. Something that might have happened a few years ago—but not now, when he’s had proven battle experience.
It should come as no surprise. Cangse Sanren killed three possible partners before accepting his father.
“...Well,” Jin Guangshan turns his eyes away from him. “Formidable cultivator or no, he is the son of a servant. Jiang Yanli would be far more suitable.”
Wei Ying crosses his arms, fighting the urge to make another remark.
They would be lucky if Yanli would accept the match.
Jiang Fengmian bows his head in return, rising to his feet. “Then I suppose we have much to consider.”
Jin Guangshan’s eyes flash, finding the possibility of a deal in sight.
“I suppose we do,” he raises his glass—toasting to the possibility of a new alliance. If only they had known then, how grave of a mistake the meeting would prove to be.
That somehow, word from one side or another had gotten back to the wrong person—who chose to take advantage of a weakening alliance.
Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian arrive back in Lotus Pier first.
Jiang Cheng is among the first to greet them, taking two steps aside as he runs into the courtyard.
“Where is father?!”
Wei Ying pauses in the middle of helping Yanli down from the carriage, raising an eyebrow.
“He stopped to meet with the Zeng clan and sent us ahead. Why?”
The first words out of his mouth make them all stop, growing still and pale.
“The Cloud Recesses are under siege!”
...What?
The battle front is hundreds of miles from there.
“Did the Nie launch a surprise offensive? They should have warned us—”
“No—by the Wens!”
Yanli pauses, her eyes widening with pleased surprise. “Does that mean they’re stepping in to end the war?”
If they were, that would be a miracle.
But Wei Ying’s blood feels like ice, and every hair on the back of his neck is standing up.
“Who knows,” Jiang Cheng mutters. “Reports say Lan Xichen was sent away before they were closed in. Their sect leader has been gravely wounded—and Wen Xu is laying siege there as we speak.”
Wei Wuxian’s right hand clenches into a fist as he looks back over his shoulder. “...Just Wen Xu?” He asks quietly, watching dark clouds build on the horizon.
It’s rare for him to be so muted, and that alone catches Jiang Cheng’s attention. “As far as I know. Why?”
“...Close the gates.”
“What?”
He whips back around to look at him. “We need to close the—!”
But it’s already too late.
Only a matter of moments later, they hear it.
The sound of the enemy approaching.
For decades, they have looked for white and gold as the color of attacking forces.
Today, they wear red—and March under the sun’s shadow.
It is far too late now to close the gates, and prepare for a siege—so Madam Yu does the only thing she can do.
Welcomes them inside, serves tea, and listens to what they want.
“Ah,” Wen Chao sighs, breathing it in. “The brews from Yunmeng are always so fine. Such flavor.”
Madam Yu doesn’t say a word, her back perfectly straight.
“I must say,” the young man muses. “I find it slightly ridiculous to be dealing with you. Does your son not feel shame, allowing his mother to speak for him?”
Her expression is schooled, hands folded in her lap.
“...Either way, I suppose I should be thanking you,” he nods towards the young man standing by the door, dressed in black. “Had you not been so childish, rejecting my father—I would have been replaced by one of your children by now. I don’t forget favors like that.”
Wei Ying certainly wasn’t trying to do anyone a favor. Particularly not the likes of him.
“So, I’ll tell you what—we’ll forgive the transgression. Punish him fairly, and we would be willing to take him off of your hands. We’ll even let you keep this little backwater.”
“...Punish him?” Yu Ziyuan asks softly, lifting her own cup to her lips.
Wei Wuxian has always known her to be a ferocious woman who had never tolerated being insulted. But for now, she remains docile.
“You have a discipline whip, don’t you? Or...” He smirks, glancing back toward one of his men. “We have something more suitable, if you’re squeamish.”
Her fingers tighten around her cup, eyes cutting to the side, meeting Wei Wuxian’s.
“You want me to maim him, then send him back with you as a mate? That seems foolish.”
“Oh,” Wen Chao snickers, shaking his head. “My father likes them that way. And why should you care? It’s known far and wide how much you loathe him.”
It might be, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a Jiang.
Going along with that would be insulting her own pride.
“...So,” she murmurs, setting down her cup. “You’re telling me that you mean to maim my son. Take him. And leave us with what is already ours as some kind of reward?”
Never once has she referred to Wei Wuxian as her own child—but the situation demands.
“And you’re in no position to refuse.”
They don’t even deny how insulting or outrageous it is. They don’t need to.
They’ve waited over a hundred years. Watching as the other four clans weakened one another. Waiting for the time to strike.
And now, it’s here.
“...I’ll tell you what,” she pushes her cup aside. “Since you’ve been so generous—I’ll do the same for you. We’ll whip the boy, so you can go back to your father and save face. You will leave empty handed, but with your life. How does that sound?”
Wei Wuxian is willing to accept it, given that his rejection is the pretense that the Wens are using to attack.
Jiang Cheng is not so easily silenced. Finding it barbaric. Telling his mother that his father would never allow this.
All of those things are true.
But this is about survival, and Jiang Fengmian isn’t here.
She makes one compromise.
She doesn’t use the discipline whip—meaning his wounds will heal, rather than leave him permanently disfigured.
Still, she gives him fifteen lashes.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t give their enemies the satisfaction.
Wen Chao watches, almost bored, since the omega takes the pain in a rare show of dignified silence.
When it’s finished, there’s only strained silence as Yanli helps him back to his feet.
Jiang Cheng is trembling with rage, his hand on his sword—
But Wen Chao can’t stop smiling.
“What’s so funny?” Jiang Cheng goes to take a step—only for his mother to grab his arm, stopping him.
“Oh, I just love it when things go according to plan.”
Yu Ziyuan grows still, the color draining from her face.
“Look at her,” Wen Chao sneers. “The bitch is finally starting to understand. Your husband should have arrived back by now, isn’t that right?”
Wei Wuxian’s stomach plummets, and Jiang Cheng snarls.
“I’ll cut out your TONGUE! WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE?!”
“My men attacked the road to the north before you ever arrived. Your mate will meet his death any moment now, I’m afraid.” He smiles, watching the terror in Yu Ziyuan’s eyes. “Are you ready to follow him?”
A frightened sound tears itself from Yanli’s throat as she holds Wei Ying against her.
“...It’s your funeral,” Madam Yu raises her chin, lips trembling as she meets Wei Wuxian’s gaze one more time.
“In this family, we believe in eye for and eye.”
Wen Chao decides to take his chances.
When the fighting breaks out, there isn’t much time for debate, or rational planning.
There’s only one thing they can do: make sure the future of the Jiang clan isn’t captured.
The three are rushed to the docks, screams and shouts echoing from all around them, smoke filling the air.
Wei Ying can barely stand to run, but Madam Yu grabs him by the shoulder, hissing in his ear—
“Keep them safe.”
Thunder rolls in the distance.
“If you have an ounce of honor—if you want to repay everything this family has done for you, you keep them safe. Do you understand?!”
Wei Ying never has the chance to answer.
Yu Ziyuan drops to her knees heavily, blood streaming from her lips.
No arrow or sword struck her—but he watches as the life fades from her eyes. Knowing what that means.
Jiang Fengmian has fallen.
Yanli can’t stop the scream that rips from her, and Jiang Cheng moves to pick her up, to take her with them, but—
But they can’t.
They can’t afford to stop, or slow down. Wei Ying only manages to take her sword, along with Zidian—
And when he sees how close their pursuers are, his expression grows even more grim.
Jiang Cheng might be the alpha—but he’s also the youngest, and he was wounded as they fled.
And he’s the one who absolutely has to survive.
Wei Wuxian grits his teeth, fishing around in his sleeves.
“What...” Jiang Cheng winces, clutching his leg as they clamor into the boat. “What are you doing?!”
After a moment, he fishes out a talisman, slapping it onto the siding, whispering commands as the spell begins to form.
“I’ll find you,” he explains breathlessly, and both of his siblings shake their heads voices rising in terror.
“DON’T—WEI WUXIAN, DON’T!”
The boat shoots away from the pier. With that talisman, it won’t stop until they reach Nie territory.
And without Wei Wuxian’s added weight, no one will be able to catch it.
He sits on the docks for a moment, alone. Allows himself to feel the pain in his back, lips trembling.
For a moment, he allows the fear to wash over him. To turn his tongue bitter and fill his belly with dread.
Wei Wuxian is no fool. He’s terrified. But being afraid won’t help him now.
Half an hour later, he’s dragged back into the Jiang Residence.
Jiang Fengmian’s corpse was brought home, arrows still buried in his chest, laid beside his wife.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t look at them.
He keeps his eyes on Wen Chao—sitting in Jiang Fengmian’s seat.
“Well, well...look at this. Your siblings left you? Poor little stray...”
To his surprise, the omega doesn’t cry, show fear—or even angry bravado.
No.
Even with his hands in chains, he stares up at him with wide, curious eyes. Illuminated beautifully by the flames outside.
“Left me? No, no... I left them.”
A hushed murmur of surprise rushes throughout the room, and Wen Chao raises an eyebrow.
“And why would you do that?”
Wei Wuxian bites his lip, a soft shade of pink dusting his cheeks.
“You said you came to take me away, didn’t you?”
The heir to the Wen clan pauses.
“...You want that?”
Wei Wuxian braces himself, then turns to look at the bodies of his adoptive parents with disdain.
“You saw the way that woman treated me. Why shouldn’t I be thankful to you?” Wen Chao glances at his officers, then back to him.
“And...you’ll go to my father?”
When Wei Wuxian begins to come forward, Wen Chao’s men go to stop him. But the alpha holds a hand up, allowing him to approach.
“I don’t want that old man...”
Wei Wuxian kneels before him.
His cheek comes to rest against the Wen’s knee as he turns his head to look up at him through his lashes.
He is a beautiful creature. With hair dark as a Raven’s wing, and eyes like stained glass.
“I want you.”
Wen Chao’s breath halts in his throat. “...Even...after I had you whipped?”
Those eyes glint you at him with an emotion that is taken for desire. “I’ll forgive you…if you promise to whip me yourself next time.”
He bites back a groan, yanking him up by the collar—
But Wei Wuxian doesn’t allow himself to be kissed.
He leans just out of reach, glancing at the others. “...Not here.”
The alpha snarls, holding his waist tightly. “You dare to command me?”
Wei Wuxian shakes his head quickly.
“In Yunmeng, any alpha who allows his mate to be seen like that by others is weak. A laughingstock.” Wei Wuxian sniffs, looking away. “If that’s what you plan on, I’ll have your father instead.”
Oh, but he has him on the hook now. He can tell from the scent of arousal wafting from him.
(All Wei Wuxian has to do is fight the urge to gag.)
“...Leave us,” he hisses, going to pick Wei Wuxian up and carry him to the lord’s chambers, but—
He’s just a little too heavy, so Wen Chao drags him by the arm instead, trying to make it look like that was his plan all along.
Wei Wuxian stumbles along beside him, chains clinking around his wrists.
“I’m about to give you a night you’ll never forget.”
Wei Wuxian smiles.
Unfortunately for Wen Chao, the scent of bloodlust is easily mistaken for arousal. “Oh, I hope so.”
They disappear into the sect leader’s chambers, and they do not emerge for the rest of the night.
When the guards hear screaming, they toast to their lords in congratulations, drinking to their heart’s content.
Wei Wuxian was generous enough to show them the wine cellars.
Sometime before dawn, a black hooded figure slips out of Lotus Pier, taking the last boat from the docks.
And when the sun rises, every Wen soldier who fell asleep within the walls of the Jiang residence has their throat cut, eyes staring blankly at the morning light, unseeing.
When the regiment from outside comes to investigate, they eventually go to the lord’s chambers—
And what they find makes grown men scream out in terror.
Three days later, a boat washes up in Qinghe. It’s operator blood soaked, collapsed from exhaustion and dehydration.
And when he’s brought to the Nie Residence, both of the Jiang children rush to him in relief and terror.
“A’YING!”
It soon becomes clear that the blood isn’t his own—but Jiang Cheng is still furious, shaking him by the collar as the doctors examine him.
“What were you thinking?! Do you think we can afford to lose you?!” Wei Ying struggles to speak, his lips are too sore and dry.
Instead, he points to the wrapped. bundle of bloody rags they found in the boat with him. And when the doctors unwrap it—
They find Wen Chao’s head.
Ironically, even if the Wens hadn’t attacked and slaughtered them first—what Wei Ying did isn’t a crime in Yunmeng.
An alpha attempted to mate with him, and Wei Ying found him lacking. That fact disgusts Jiang Cheng later.
“Did you actually...?”
“Sleep with him?” Wei Ying snorts, rolling his eyes, wincing as Yanli applies a salve to his back. “No. I gutted him before he could so much as scent me.”
Jiang Cheng and his sister both heave sighs of relief.
“Yeah, I know, right?” Wei Ying blows out a disgusted breath. “I don’t know how he fell for it. I was just acting out a character from one of Nie Huaisang’s eroticas. I wouldn’t have known what to do if we had gotten to the sex part—OW!”
He jerks, crying out pathetically when Jiang Cheng smacks him upside the head.
“Don’t EVER do that again!”
“Decapitation?”
“You know what I mean!” Jiang Cheng glares. “What if it hadn’t worked? Do you have any idea how close you came to being—!”
He’s too disgusted to say it, and he doesn’t have to.
Wei Ying knows. Every omega knows.
But he wouldn’t trade his gender—
Because sometimes, alphas really are pathetic. Way too easy. “But it didn’t! And I won’t do it again, okay? Relax.”
“No! I’m not going to.” He looks from Wei Ying to Yanli, shaking his head. “We only have each other now, and you’re both my responsibility.”
Wei Ying finds that a tad patronizing, but... Jiang Cheng just lost his parents. His home.
He’s trying not to feel so helpless. Wei Ying understands.
Word eventually comes from Gusu.
That Qingheng-Jun is dead. And the first thing the new Lan Set Leader did was to leave the walls of the Cloud Recesses alone, facing Wen Xu and cutting him down.
Thus the siege was broken.
Wen Ruohan was enraged to learn of the deaths of his sons. Eager to avenge them—but reluctant to take to the battlefield again before his line of succession is secure.
But no matter how many consorts and concubines he has—none bear him a child. A year goes by.
Wei Ying suspects Jiang Cheng might have grown cold and hateful in his grief, if not for Nie Huaisang.
They all expected the change in the new sect leader’s position to result in the end of their engagement—but it made no difference to his fiancé.
They marry that spring—and after everything they’ve been through in the last months, it’s a rare moment of happiness.
But there’s also a new reality slowly dawning upon the four clans:
This is no longer a two-way war—and the Wens are not anyone’s ally. The only way to survive them is if they band together.
Which brings them back to an age-old problem—and only one plausible solution. Marriage.
Peace is made with the Jins easily enough. Yanli seems to warm to their son after a few meetings—and Jiang Cheng honors the agreement.
But the Jin clan was never their true enemy. And the bad blood between them and their final remaining obstacle runs the deepest.
The Lan Clan.
The last time Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji met, both were children.
Now they’re both grown men. Sect leaders. Scarred and worn from years of violence.
Sitting opposite one another in the golden rooms of carp tower, postures stiff.
“...We wouldn’t be in this position if your uncle hadn’t rejected a match with my sister thirteen years ago,” Jiang Cheng shrugs. “But now that I’m married and she’s betrothed, we don’t have many options.”
One of the Lan’s advisers leans forward, speaking next to their sect leader’s ear.
“Sir, the only unmarried option left in the main family is an omega by the name of Wei Wuxian. He’s an entirely inappropriate choice.”
Unfortunately, Jiang Cheng has excellent hearing.
“Excuse me? Would you like to explain what you mean? We’re all listening.”
The advisor frowns, then crossed his arms in his sleeve, his expression as controlled and elegant as could be expected.
“I would not disrespect this meeting by voicing rumors.”
“You’ve already brought them up,” Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrow. “By all means, don’t stop now.”
“...Fine,” the advisor sniffs. “They say he’s a violent criminal who practices the dark arts.”
“None of that is true.”
“That he isn’t...” The advisor clears his throat. “That he isn’t a virgin, and he has a bastard hidden in Qinghe.”
Jiang Cheng locks his jaw, his eyes flashing with anger. “Insulting lies spread by our enemies.”
“And...” The advisor almost seems too mortified to say it. “...That he...fraternizes...with...other omegas.”
Jiang Cheng’s ears turn silently read, and his nostrils flare. “A ridiculous rumor! It’s completely false!”
(Mostly.)
Lan Wangji hasn’t reacted to any of this, his expression seemingly immovable. “Gossip is forbidden.”
His voice is low, deep, and monotonous—but there seems to be an edge to it, one that makes the advisor shrink in apology.
“Yes, sir. But someone should voice such concerns to you before you even consider such an ill-advised match.”
“And I just told you all of those rumors are false,” Jiang Cheng growls. “So, you can shut your damn mouth. Wei Wuxian’s loyalty is beyond repute. Anyone would be lucky to have him as a mate.”
Lan Wangji surveys them both in silence, then says two words;
“Very well.”
Wei Ying is in the struggle for his life.
More specifically, he’s about to lose on his next hand of cards, and Nie Huaisang seems to know it.
“...Have you been card counting again?” “Me?” His eyes widen. “I wouldn’t know how!”
Wei Ying eyes him suspiciously.
Rather than meet his gaze or confess to his crimes, Nie Huaisang draws from the deck. “Do you think things will come through?”
“...Eh,” Wei Ying shrugs, kicking back in his seat. “With Yanli engaged, we really don’t have anything to offer.”
Nie Huaisang hums, laying another card down. “I wouldn’t be so certain.”
Wei Ying doesn’t even worry about what he’s saying, staring at the cards. “You have DEFINITELY been counting, you little—!”
The doors to the sitting room open, and Jiang Cheng reappears.
Nie Huaisang’s face immediately brightens as he sits up, throwing his cards aside. (He absolutely was counting.)
And the moment he moves to his mate’s side, Jiang Cheng seems to deflate.
If there’s one thing Wei Ying thinks his brother-in-law is masterful at, it’s softening Jiang Cheng’s moods. Grasping his hands, allowing his scent to calm the sect leader down.
“How did it go?”
“...” Jiang Cheng takes two deep breaths, his expression easing. “...We came to an agreement.”
Wei Ying looks up from the cards, shocked. “...Really? With the Lans?!”
For some reason, Jiang Cheng can’t seem to look at his brother, holding Nie Huaisang’s hands just a hair too tight.
“Yeah.”
“How?!”
“...A marriage contract with Hanguang-Jun.”
Nie Huaisang’s eyes brighten with understanding, his jaw going slack, and Wei Ying...
He just looks confused, sitting up and crossing his arms. “What? He was really alright with taking one of your cousins?”
“...Not exactly.”
Wei Ying frowns. “...You didn’t cancel Yanli’s engagement, did you? I mean—I don’t like Jin Zixuan either, but he can’t be worse than a Lan.”
Jiang Cheng grimaces.
“No. We didn’t cancel her engagement.”
Wei Ying stares at him. “...I don’t...then who could it be...?”
It’s when he notices the way Nie Huaisang has started biting his lip that it starts to dawn on him.
“...No...”
“Wei Wuxian—"
“You’re messing with me.”
“I haven’t said anything yet—"
“It’s me?! Why would he agree to that?!”
“Well. I. I said you were a catch—"
“WHY?!”
“Well,” Nie Huaisang laughs awkwardly. “You are a catch, Wei-Xiong—”
“I am NOT!” Wei Ying groans, wiping his hands down his face.
He always had an idea of what his future might look like. Raising his nieces and nephews. Growing old in lotus pier.
The benefit of his position was always that he would never have to leave home. Everything that they’ve done in the last few months was to get back to Lotus Pier.
And now he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life in a cold, upright prison, surrounded by people who hate him?!
Of course—Jiang Cheng isn’t making him do this. That isn’t the way that things work in Yunmeng.
Theoretically, Wei Ying has the right to refuse.
And subsequently allow the war to continue, dooming his family, his friends, and everyone else he cares about.
Totally doable.
Saying that Wei Ying is miserable in the weeks that follow wouldn’t even begin to cover it.
He tries to hide it as best as he can. He knows Jiang Cheng can’t do anything to change the situation, and it’ll only upset Yanli.
But he really, really wishes he could have gone home one more time. That he could have swum on the lakes outside of his bedroom window. Felt the summer breeze on his face. Tasted the food.
If they win the war, he’ll get to see it again—but as a visitor.
It won’t be home.
He lays awake at night thinking about it, and every single thing he can find about Gusu— which is limited, after a century of war—does nothing to ease his worries.
It says the winters are harsh. That there’s a wall with three thousand rules carved into its face.
That there’s no drinking. No laughing without reason. No gambling. No gossiping.
Wei Ying thinks they could just carve his face into the rock face with a giant X over it, and that might save more time.
And to make things worse—his ‘fiancé’ doesn’t attend Yanli’s wedding.
Understandable, given the war at hand—And considering that Lan Xichen had fled to Lanling during the siege of Gusu, saving crucial artifacts, a member of the Lan Clan is in attendance.
But it also means that, other than observing his face from a distance when he was fifteen, and being caught by the arm shortly thereafter—
Wei Ying had never met him.
They’ve never said a single word to one another.
And there’s limited information on the great Hanguang-Jun.
He’s a powerful cultivator. Substantially stronger than the other sect leaders in practice and discipline.
And cold.
That is the one word he can ever find that is used to describe the Lan Clean head. Cold and silent.
The thought of that is almost as miserable as the rules.
And when it’s finally time to venture to Gusu—Wei Ying can’t say that he manages to put his best foot forward, even if he does wear a brave face.
Still, not everyone is fooled.
In particular, Nie Huaisang notices his dread more than anyone—and he tries to be comforting.
He points out that the rumors might call him cold—but they’ve also never called him cruel.
They also say he’s famously handsome, but Wei Ying would rather him be hideous and interesting than gorgeous and boring.
But then, his brother-in-law says something that makes Wei Ying stop and think.
“Well—maybe you’ll get lucky, and he won’t like you at all. Then he might send you home and keep up his part of the deal anyway!”
Nie Huaisang meant it as a joke.
But Wei Ying sees potential.
After all: if there’s one thing he’s learned in the months since the engagement, it’s that he is utterly unsuitable for a place like the Cloud Recesses.
All he has to do is act like it.