Chapter Text
“A-Yao.” Lan Xichen’s soft voice declared his entrance. Busy with preparation for the fast-approaching banquet, Jin Guangyao awaited the door’s closing click before turning to greet his Er-Ge.
Half-embarrassed by his state of undress, for he felt nothing short of nude without his adorning hat, Jin Guangyao was made bereft of the nobility his Niang had embroidered into his being, for what was he but tailored for Jin acceptance? He was pleased to carry such sign of his welcome, regardless of the blood spilled as the thread of family had pierced through his flesh to interweave itself with the bone of his being. No matter that his naked state had resulted in discomfort before his Er-Ge’s presence. Jin Guangyao’s hat was sign of his Niang’s dreams achieved; it was her who had wanted a son of great nobility.
And with money aplenty to waste upon himself, he’d purchased a hat rich in quality, with a grandness he hadn’t dared dream of within the brothel. It was a comfort to clad himself in the trappings of the Sect his Niang had promised to him. She too would have smiled to greet his altered image had she lived long enough to enjoy his ascent into Jin glory.
“Er-Ge.” Jin Guangyao greeted, smoothing out the creases of his robes that’d formed in his haste to bow.
Lan Xichen breathed, just loud enough for Jin Guangyao to hear his slight chuckle. Lan Xichen would quietly laugh when satisfied enough to wear the smile he had only with Jin Guangyao. It was a tender sort of sound – one of fond amusement and, Jin Gaungyao dared believe, of yearning. He was glad to hear it, though it had cost the ungracious way he’d risen to greet Lan Xichen.
Had it been anyone besides his Er-Ge, Jin Guangyao’s embarrassment would have ascertained unsavoury talk of a supposed lackadaisical attitude to his manner of appearance and his joy would have become yet another flaw borne of bad blood. Yet, with Er-Ge, Jin Guangyao had no such fears.
“Are you ready for the banquet, A-Yao?”
“Yes, almost. Whilst this A-Yao prepares himself, what occupies the Honourable Zewu-jun’s time?”
“He’s still resting from his journey – that is, according to the servants.”
Jin Guangyao’s lips curved upwards in a half smirk: “And is Er-Ge so daring he’d deceive the entirety of the Jin to sneak into his San-Di’s quarters? My, my, whatever will Da-Ge think?”
“Oh, A-Yao”, Lan Xichen chuckled once more, dipping down his head slightly, like he was as bashful as the boy he’d once been when he was but a war refugee hiding in Meng Yao’s rooms “To keep your identity secret during the Sunshot Campaign, I naturally learned to evade attention. No doubt, I am far from your skill yet not so incompetent I’d be discovered.”
“I had no such doubt in your ability, Er-Ge.”
“Very well then, I’ll believe you. How long will you take?”
“Only a slight bit longer. All I’ve to do is complete my makeup.” Jin Guangyao replied, dipping his brush into the pot of colour on his desk, watching as the powder clustered around its bristles, like prostitutes clamouring for a patron’s attention. He looked away into the mirror to watch the colour kiss into his lips, blurring them into a deepened red – not so dark it looked akin to blood congealed, no matter that the sensation was indistinguishable across his skin.
Jin Guangyao loathed the tainting of his face with colour quite so bright. The pink hues of a fluster looked uncomfortably beautiful across the dainty pale of his flesh. Regardless of the compliments A-Su was certain to receive him with, the words would dry and crust away like blood; like memory of his Fuqin’s drunken comparisons between him and “that whore” he knew to be his Niang.
Jin Guangyao knew he looked rather like his Niang and from the way Fuqin had taken to leering at him, with brows tightly drawn and lips wetter than usual, the moistness of his spit puncturing his words with the sounds of a tongue lolling against teeth in the patronizing tones of a patron prone to brothel visitations, Jin Guangyao certainly felt like a whore.
He looked into the mirror and saw only a nightmare of his Niang’s powdered face.
It was from her that Jin Guangyao learned how to apply makeup, having habitually painted away the yellowing of her sallow face when she was too sickened to hide away the inevitability of her death. And he had enjoyed it with all the innocence a child, made guilty by birth, could possess. When he was but a babe, not yet tainted with all he knew now, he yearned to sculpt his growing face into his Niang’s; to cut away whatever blemishes his Fuqin’s features had made of his face and to make himself a replica of her. It was a peculiar source of enjoyment, softening his Niang’s face into something younger; something healthier. It helped that without such suffrage to burden a patron’s eye, she earned a far more bountiful wage. Playing make-belief with her fake face was fun, so long as he retained the know-how to ignore the haggard way her breath rattled with each inhale like her sickness wasn’t subduing her soul to death’s acceptance.
Jin Guangyao looked away to glance at Lan Xichen so he could smile.
“If you would allow me?” Lan Xichen asked, gesturing towards his hat in question. Jin Guangyao bowed his head in answer and exhaled a half-drowned gasp as Lan Xichen’s fingers brushed against his hair. When all was done, the gentleman raised himself to meet Lan Xichen’s eyes.
The corners of his eyes softened, even as his smile was lost to the supplicatory expression adorning Er-Ge’s handsome face. He tied the string below Jin Guangyao’s chin with the same softness he reserved only for his xiao- once belonging to his own Niang. Jin Guanyao found himself desiring a hat of greater complication; one that required a greater length of time to tie. It was a longing ill-suited for an engaged omega.
Jin Guangyao was no longer the common boy sheltering a Gongzi of the Lan from war but rather a war hero for whom impropriety was the only fitting descriptor for the days he’d once addressed Zewu-jun as his Huan-Ge.
The dimples of Jin Guangyao’s face deepened and a dark shadow buried itself into the crevices of his cheeks, as though they were enough to hide away he forbidden nature of his thoughts, conducted in a manner akin to the way Meng Shi brushed apart Meng Yao’s hair to hide the bruising of his head.
Lan Xichen inhaled deeply, as though to brush away thoughts of a similar nature and continued onwards “You look…far more noble than any other Gongzi of my acquaintance.”
Jin Guangyao returned his gaze to his makeup, not wholly certain if it was to conceal the reddening of his cheeks or rather to complete his face. He proceeded to smooth away whatever defects his Fuqin had pronounced unsuitable for an omega of his standing. Funny that a brothel could hold such similar sentiments.
He looked far too much like his Niang.
“I will be busy during the banquet.” Jin Guangyao said, staring into the eyes of Lan Xichen’s reflection.
“As you always are whenever I visit. Jin-zongzhu must trust you deeply to assign such a great many duties to you. You ought to be proud.”
And yet his duties were not reason enough to keep him from the meaningless vanity of his Fuqin’s banquets where he’d taken to displaying Jin Guangyao, fresh for the taking if only a rich cultivator foolish enough to sully their descendant’s blood with the stainings of prostitution was willing enough to buy him.
And somehow, his Fuqin believed Chifeng-zun was such a person. It was an unfilial thought but Jin Guangyao worried the copious amounts of alcohol his Fuqin had taken to consuming had poisoned his reasoning capabilities.
“I hope Er-ge is correct. Had I half your skill, people would have no reason to doubt me.”
“How incorrect of a claim! A-Yao, often I have praised – and even desired – your talents as a host. For my sake at least, do not diminish your proficiency.”
“Rather, it is this San-Di who wishes to replicate his Er-Ge’s diplomacy.”
“Is that so? And whatever for?” Lan Xichen breathed lightly, looking at Jin Guangyao.
“I fear my mating ceremony will be further delayed. If Er-Ge could please assist me in the prevention of such, I’d be grateful.”
Lan Xichen fell silent for a moment, then allowed the slight arch of his brow to relax, appearing rather pleased to have answers to Jin Guangyao’s problem. It was for that reason Jin Guangyao spoke not once of his Fuqin’s orders. Er-Ge deserved not to be trapped in the same helplessness of Jin Guangyao’s obligations.
“Perhaps if Qin-zongzhu saw how appreciative of your accomplishments the Nie and Lan are, he’d grant himself entry to a man with ability to allocate him an association with such praise. I will convince Da-ge.”
“Thank you, Er-Ge.”
“And after the banquet will you join us? I plan to soothe Da-Ge’s spirit with the Song of Clarity. It’ll help alleviate your burdens.”
“I apologise, Er-Ge, but I have promised A-Su a private gathering.” Jin Guangyao replied, thinking of a world where the person he’d secretly meet with would be Lan Xichen instead.
His willingness to mate A-Su instead of Er-Ge was in part due to a difference in their abilities. He could not mate out of the family his Niang had demanded of him, nor force Er-Ge to do the same.
Lan Xichen was not so lackadaisical that he’d willingly abandon his duties in pursuit of pleasure. He was born to be more than a simple spouse. Only A-Su whose ill-health barred her from inheritance to the Qin could mate into the Jin.
“Should you plan to meet with Da-Ge, I’d advise you to depart now. The banquet is fast approaching. It’d do us well to inform him of our plans. You know as well as I how incapable of secrecy he’d be should you introduce to him our scheme just before its commencement.”
“A-Yao ought to be careful to avoid saying as such before Da-Ge.” Lan Xichen chided in jest.
“And that is why I am entrusting my secret to you alone.”
“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen’s eyes glimmered with mischief as he lifted himself from the bed “I’ll leave you be, then. Please do not worry about the banquet. It is sure to be a success.”
Once Lan Xichen had departed, Jin Guangyao’s solitary self retreated outwards, into the hallways.