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The one nighthunt that neither the Ghost General nor his jiujiu attend, they run into a ghost.
It’s sudden and unexpected. They’re busy arguing in a way they rarely do. Scents are sour, frowns and furrowed brows are excessive, and arms gesticulate wildly even from Lan Sizhui. Fairy walks at Jin Ling’s side with her ears down and her tail limp; she’s also upset with all this arguing, and she’s exceptionally quiet because of it.
“I can’t see you guys anytime soon because I’m busy!” Jin Ling exclaims. “I’m a Sect Leader and I have stuff to do that I can’t neglect! Why can’t you guys understand?”
“‘I’m a Sect Leader now,’” Jingyi mocks, his chest comically puffed out. He deflates his chest and turns his narrowed eyes onto Jin Ling—a rare sight—with his frown etched sharp and his face mean. “We know that and you’ve said it several times already, so there’s no need to keep repeating it.”
“We know that, but you’re being unfair,” Zizhen says, his face furious and pinched. “We just want to spend some time together,”
“Why can’t you make even a little bit of time for us?” Sizhui says. He’s upset, his voice whiny and honey-like. He’s frustrated, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pouting. His arms are crossed, his broad chest caved in. He looks defeated. Jin Ling wants to punch himself.
“I’m trying!” Jin Ling says. Even coming on this nighthunt was tough enough, he really can’t spend any more time with them than he already is. “But I can’t! You guys aren’t listening to me!”
“We’re hearing you just fine,” Jingyi says.
“Then why—”
“I’d like to ask why too,” Zizhens says bitterly.
Jin Ling looks at Sizhui for help. He knows Sizhui is also upset, but he’s reasonable at least. He should be able to persuade the others. But when he looks, Sizhui turns his face away.
Anger and helplessness swell in his chest. His clothes feel too tight all of a sudden and everyone too far away. It’s not like he wants to spend so little time with them. He doesn’t like any of this either. Yet, the blame falls solely on him. It’s not fair. He has duties he can’t shirk, he has meetings he can’t play hookey to, he has people he can’t afford to offend.
It’s not fair.
And then, all of a sudden, Jingyi screams, nearly trips, and runs away. Jin Ling watches him run away, confused. Why? What happened? It can’t be because of anger—even that is an unlikely display from Jingyi, no matter how angry he gets. Moreover, that scream wasn’t out of frustration, it sounded like—
“It’s a ghost!” Lan Sizhui exclaims.
Jin Ling whips his head around to look at it, and then it makes sense. Jingyi was running away from the ghost.
His confusion fizzles out. “I’m going after Jingyi,” Jin Ling says. He trusts that Sizhui and Zizhen can handle the ghost; it doesn’t seem fierce or particularly anxious to commit any harm. It’s a heavy figure, male, and probably an alpha, but his eyes are downcast and his hands fidget, an obvious display of nerves. No, it won’t commit any harm. So, Jin Ling turns to the direction Jingyi ran in and takes off.
Jingyi is a fast runner. It takes him and Fairy longer than he expects to catch up, but even then, Jingyi doesn’t stop, even when Jin Ling asks him to. Jingyi ignores him with a frown.
Then, Jin Ling jumps at Jingyi, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other one along his spine so that his hand protects Jingyi’s head. They fall to the ground, onto soft soil and rugged tree roots. Jingyi’s scent is sour with anger and bitter with fear. It burns Jin Ling’s nose so much that he can’t help but lean back and scrunch his face.
Jingyi shoves him off, and Jin Ling complies. It only occurs to him now that this position between an alpha and an omega is inappropriate. He doesn’t regret taking Jingyi to the floor, but he does agree that it’s best that they separate immediately. They sit on the floor, facing each other, their hands on the ground to help brace themselves.
“Why are you here?” Jingyi bites. “Go fight the ghost and show it off to your Sect’s members—”
“Why are you so angry?” Jin Ling interrupts. It’s not fair for Jingyi to say such a thing or to assume that Jin Ling is so self-serving. It’s not fair . His chest hurts and his heart is palpitating at a rate he hasn’t felt since Guanyin Temple. “Why do you care so much if I don’t spend so much time with you guys? When we meet, you only insult me and my character and the way I do things. You don’t talk to me, you talk with the others and I sometimes happen to be part of the same conversation. You don’t even look at me if you can help it. You’re always on edge whenever it’s just the two of us. You don’t even like me. Why do you care?”
Jingyi looks as if he’s been slapped. Jin Ling doesn’t feel anything but relief, like a weight has been lifted off his chest. It’s only now that he realizes just how big of a weight it was on his chest, and he can’t bring himself to feel anything like guilt or remorse as he looks at Jingyi’s stunned face. When Jingyi fishmouths, unable to say anything, Jin Ling sighs and looks at Fairy. As nice as it was to get that off his chest, the fallout isn’t going to be good. It’ll probably get between them and make things even more awkward and tense than it already is between the four of them.
However, looking at Fairy, Jin Ling frowns and becomes pensive. She’s sitting between them, though off to the side. She’s been doing that a lot lately, making herself small and standing off to the side, and he’s not sure if he should be worried about her behaviour.
“I don’t dislike you,” Jingyi says eventually. He looks nervous, but he’s still not looking at Jin Ling. He’s looking at the ground. “Far from it,” he says softly.
Jin Ling doesn’t know what to say to that. He was expecting something stupid, something brash. He was expecting an insult, something that would confirm that Jingyi hates him, something that would tell Jin Ling why he wasn’t enough to love. He was expecting an answer that would confirm his condemnation.
He never dreamed of an answer that would throw all his damning expectations to the wind, yet here it is. So, he reverts to what he does best: he scoffs. “Sure.”
“I mean it,” Jingyi insists.
He rolls his eyes. He doesn’t know why Jingyi insists on denying it. Jingyi doesn’t like him at all, through and through, and it’s stupid, in his humble opinion, to deny it when it’s so obvious.
Jingyi frowns, furrows his brows, and purses his lips. “I like you, Jin Ling.”
His eyes widen and now it’s his turn to fishmouth. Jingyi doesn’t just like him as a person, he likes him as an alpha. He would have bet on a second war coming sooner than this . Eventually, the only thing that comes out of his mouth is: “No you don’t.”
Jingyi’s eyebrows furrow even deeper. “I think I know whether I like someone or not.”
“But you don’t like me .”
“Look,” Jingyi says, face shrouded in hostility, “if you don’t like me back, then just say so. There’s no need for you to be so meandering about it.”
“I—” He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know whether he likes Jingyi back or not. He’s always thought that Jingyi disliked him—this is a novelty he doesn’t know how to manage. He tries again, but he’s still unable to answer: “I—”
Jingyi infuriates him. One second he’s insulting Jin Ling’s character, and the next he’s confessing romantic feelings.
He says inappropriately brash things without any reservations whatsoever. He frequently insults Jin Ling. He regularly teases Jin Ling like there’s no tomorrow. He never looks at Jin Ling. He never speaks to Jin Ling. He’s never anything but tense and on-edge around Jin Ling.
And yet, Jin Ling followed Jingyi all the way out here.
And yet, when Jingyi got injured last month, Jin Ling had an uncontrollable urge to stay by his side until he recovered. (He couldn’t since his duties as a Sect Leader didn’t allow for that, so he only stayed until Jingyi woke up and he was finally, finally able to control himself enough to drag himself away from Jingyi’s bedside.)
And yet, when Jingyi got drunk and laughed so hard he fell over from his chair just over a week ago, Jin Ling felt a certain kind of warmth in his chest that he had never felt before. (He chalked it up to schadenfreude at seeing Jingyi fall and being unable to get back up, but perhaps it wasn’t schadenfreude at all. Perhaps the warmth was a soft kind of pleasure at seeing Jingyi so boisterously and uncontrollably happy.)
Jin Ling tries again. “I think—”
“There’s no need to say it,” Jingyi mutters, his head turned away. “I know you don’t feel the same.”
It’s as if time is slipping through his fingers—like if he doesn’t answer immediately, then his whole world will fall apart. “I do like you.”
Jingyi’s eyes widen, but he still avoids Jin Ling’s gaze.
Jin Ling crawls forward so that he’s sitting right in front of Jingyi, then grabs Jingyi’s chin to lift his face so that he can’t look away anymore. His skin is soft and warm. He doesn’t ever want to let go.
“Did you mean it?” Jin Ling whispers. It feels like if he speaks any louder, this brittle moment will crumble and everything will break like sand sculptures against the tide. “Do you like me?”
Jingyi’s eyes are wide and his brows are furrowed. He licks his lips before he whispers, finally, “Yes.” After a moment, he says, louder, “Yes, I do like you.”
“I want to court you,” Jin Ling says.
Jingyi’s breath hitches. It’s not a loud or big gesture, not like the ones Jingyi usually makes, but they’re so close that Jin Ling can hear it anyway. This close, it’s like he’s privy to Jingyi’s feelings and secrets, and it only delights him.
“Yes,” Jingyi says. “A thousand times yes.”
Fireworks go off in his chest. Anticipation floods his heart. “Then can I—”
“Yes, please, do it—”
Jin Ling lets go of Jingyi’s chin and grabs his nape instead. When he brings his face to Jingyi’s neck, Jingyi only tilts his head back, exposing it further, delighting Jin Ling and his instincts to claim, to own. Jingyi wants this. Jingyi wants him . And Jin Ling has the trust and the permission to complete the first step of courting: to scent each other.
Jingyi’s scent is sweet and harmonious. His skin is soft and warm too. Jin Ling thinks he now understands why couples insist on scenting each other when they meet and when they depart.
It’s so nice to stake his claim on Jingyi. It’s nice to know that when they part, traces of him will still linger on Jingyi’s skin. It’s nice to know that when tonight is over and done, when they go home, Jingyi will be reminded of him with every breath he takes.
What they’re doing isn’t traditional. Jin Ling is supposed to get the approval of Jin Ling’s parents before they’re permitted to court, but Jingyi is as parentless and Jin Ling is, so although Jin Ling’s supposed to get the permission of Jingyi’s next of kin, he figures it doesn’t really matter anyway. Jingyi never mentions any relative that he has to go home to or pay his respects to, not the same way Zizhen does, so any next of kin that Jingyi has must be, at best, a formal relationship that Jingyi probably doesn’t particularly care for.
So, tradition can go fuck itself. This moment is too heavy to leave room to care about tradition anyway.
When Jin Ling deems the scenting sufficient enough, he pulls away and tilts his own head back. Jingyi lunges to put his face into Jin Ling’s neck, which only makes Jin Ling’s heart swell. It’s nice to be scented, he thinks as Jingyi’s arms come up to grab his shoulders. He likes that Jingyi’s scent will remain on him just as his own will remain on Jingyi. He likes that when he goes back to his large, lonely bedroom in Jinlintai, he’ll be able to smell Jingyi, even unthinkingly.
And when Jingyi deems his scenting good enough, he pulls back. He looks Jin Ling in the eye and smiles. “I think I can face anything when I’m with you.”
Teasingly, Jin Ling smiles back. “Even ghosts?”
Jingyi snorts. “Yeah, even ghosts.” Then, “Should we go back? They should be finished by now.”
Jin Ling nods, but he doesn’t make any move to get up. Jingyi’s hands are still on his shoulders, his hand is still around Jingyi’s nape, and he’s comfortable. He likes this closeness and this intimacy. Jingyi doesn’t move either, so they spend a few moments just looking at each other. He’s never had the opportunity to look so closely at Jingyi before; he’s beautiful.
Suddenly, Jingyi leans forward and presses a kiss to Jin Ling’s cheek. His arms slide away and Jin Ling’s hand falls to the side as Jingyi gets up. Then, Jingyi extends a hand toward Jin Ling. “Let’s go,” he says.
Jin Ling takes the hand and stands up. “If they’re not done with the ghost yet, I’ll be there, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Jingyi looks him in the eye and smiles, glint in his eye. “My hero,” he says teasingly.
Jin Ling rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t let go of Jingyi’s hand.