Chapter Text
Seated straight-backed on the Lotus Throne, Jiang Cheng glares at Shen Yuze and Lu Qiu, two of Yunmeng Jiang's seniormost disciples. Neither of them hold the official title of head disciple—no one ever has since Wei Wuxian— but they've both been at Jiang Cheng's side for close to two decades. They stand shoulder to shoulder, meeting his gaze with stubborn determination, refusing to be cowed by his temper.
Jiang Cheng curses under his breath. "Couldn't this have waited?" he snaps, jerking a hand towards the papers they've placed in front of them.
They exchange a look.
"It's barely two months until the harvesting season, Jiang-zhongzhu," Shen Yuze says.
"You don't have to tell me when the lotus harvest is in my own sect!"
The two of them trade another look, only serving to irritate him further, because it gives him the distinct feeling that he's being managed.
"We thought things were different now," Lu Qiu says cautiously. "Would you at least read what we drafted and think about it? Jin-zongzhu is unlikely to reject these terms."
"I know that too."
Jiang Cheng clenches his jaw forcefully, biting back more harsh words. His disciples don't deserve to be berated over this. They are right to remind him that he shouldn't let another lotus harvesting season pass without doing something about the situation. The truth is, he's been putting off renegotiating Yunmeng Jiang's trade agreement with Lanling Jin for weeks. The existing rates are absurd, with tariffs that have not been raised in sixteen years. The prices laid out for lotus silk would have been considered low even before the Sunshot Campaign.
Thankfully, the details of the treaty aren't widely known, sparing him too much embarrassment, or the loss of bargaining power with other sects. Unfortunately, Lu Qiu and Shen Yuze have long been involved in overseeing the lotus trade and tariff collections. Every year, they've watched him dip into his personal treasury to cover the shortfall for Yunmeng Jiang's traders. In the early years, they'd pressed him, but they stopped pretty soon, likely realizing Jin Guangyao had some kind of hold over their sect leader to make him agree to such a lopsided deal in the first place.
Now that Jin Guangyao is dead, though, they've been hinting again—and now outright insisting—that he needs to approach Jin Ling. Jiang Cheng has been dodging the issue, but he knows they're right to push him. He can't, in good conscience, keep letting silver and gold that should benefit his people continue bleeding out of Yunmeng Jiang's coffers.
It's just—Jiang Cheng is worried about how Jin Ling will react. He has no doubt his nephew will agree to the terms, but he'll also want to know why the rates were that low in the first place. Jiang Cheng has no idea how he's going to explain that.
"You haven't seen Jin-zongzhu in six months," Shen Yuze says gently. "This will give you an excuse to visit him."
The kindly meant words fill him with a conflicted longing. The thought of setting foot in Koi Tower again is nauseating, but Jiang Cheng has missed Jin Ling. He's never gone this long without seeing his nephew. He's stayed away at the Jin elders' request to avoid the appearance that Sandu Shengshou is trying to influence Lanling Jin. They've written to each other, but it's not the same.
Reluctantly, he takes the trading proposal and scans the new terms his disciples have drafted. As expected, it is fair and reasonable, in line with the standard rates Yunmeng Jiang offers other sects. When he reaches the last page, he stops, staring blankly at the paper.
"Would you like to make any changes?" Lu Qiu asks after a long silence.
"No. This is fine." Jiang Cheng stands abruptly and folds the papers into his sleeve. "I'll take this to him."
"What, now?!" Shen Yuze scrambles after him as he strides for the doors.
"Why not?" Jiang Cheng says recklessly. "There's no reason to wait."
"Zongzhu, shouldn't you at least write to him? This isn't that urgent—"
"Then why the hell have you both been annoying me about it for weeks?" Jiang Cheng demands. "I'll try to be back this evening."
He climbs onto his sword and flies towards Lanling, pretending he doesn't hear them calling after him in dismay.
Jiang Cheng knows he's being impulsive. It is inexcusably presumptuous to just arrive in Lanling Jin like this without a word of warning or notice. Jin Ling isn't just his nephew, he's also a fellow sect leader, so this is definitely a breach in protocol.
But now that he's decided, Jiang Cheng knows he has to act immediately, before he loses his nerve. Koi Tower holds too many terrible memories, and it's all he can do to stay on course as the familiar dread creeps in with every passing minute of the journey.
After two hours of hard flying, he lands at the gates of Lanling Jin, where he's met with surprise and alarm. Once he assures the Jin disciples that there's no emergency, they bow hastily and welcome him inside, but inform him that Jin Ling has already retired to his rooms, with strict instructions not to be disturbed until the following day.
"Is he unwell?" Jiang Cheng asks, instantly concerned. It's barely late afternoon.
"No, he is perfectly fine, Jiang-zongzhu," a Jin disciple assures him. "He simply needed a breath. It happens now and then."
"He is young yet, after all," says an older disciple sagely. "The burdens of leadership rest heavy on his shoulders."
Jiang Cheng knows that, but shutting himself away without explanation? It seems strange and wildly out of character. And what exactly does 'every now and then' mean? How often does this happen? How could he have missed whatever this is?
Fuck, he really should have visited sooner. He should've dismissed the Jin elders' concerns and come to see his nephew months ago. It's his own weakness that kept him away. For so long, he'd had no choice but to visit Koi Tower every time he was summoned. After Jin Guangyao's death, Jiang Cheng welcomed the respite, relieved to have a legitimate excuse to stay away.
The truth is, Jiang Cheng has been struggling since Guanyin Temple. The revelations about his golden core turned everything he thought he knew about his own life, and about Jin Guangyao, upside down. He's been sleeping poorly, and his temper is even shorter than it usually is.
Now, he has to bite back the urge to yell at Jin Ling's subordinates and demand they fetch him at once. This isn't an emergency, and Jiang Cheng has already transgressed the bounds of courtesy by visiting unannounced. It will reflect terribly on the Jiang Sect if he loses his temper or throws his weight around. Reluctantly, he agrees to their offer to host him for the night, letting them show him to a guest chamber.
The room is like most Jin rooms, large, full of ornate furniture, and excessively decorated. Jiang Cheng is reminded again how much he hates Koi Tower. Worse still, he didn't think to pack any bedding before his impulsive flight here, so he's going to have to sleep on the sofa. (He refuses to lie on a yellow Jin Sect bedspread ever again).
His eyes dart around the room, and he suddenly feels trapped, suffocated by an insidious sense of disquiet and unease. He stumbles to a window and inhales deeply, hoping the fresh air will steady him. But there's a bed of peonies planted right outside, the smell so strongly reminiscent of the oil Jin Guangyao used in his hair, that he almost throws up. He stumbles back from the window, folding in half and bracing his hands on his knees as he tries to breathe.
He bitterly regrets his impulsive decision to come here. He wants nothing more than to fly back to Lotus Pier, but how the fuck would he explain that? It's one thing to have visited unannounced like this, but to leave without an explanation would be ten times worse.
Jiang Cheng reminds himself this isn't like all the other times he has been here. Jin Guangyao is dead, Jin Ling is the sect leader, and no one in Koi Tower would ever dare to touch Sandu Sengshou.
He spends the rest of the evening poring over the trade agreement his disciples drafted, making a dozen unnecessary revisions in a futile attempt to distract himself. He calls for an early dinner which he barely touches, then falls into a fitful doze on the sofa.
He wakes with a start some hours later, shuddering out of a dream in which Jin Guangyao slits Jin Ling's throat open with a guqin string as punishment for failing to please him in bed. He tastes bile, horrified by the vision his mind has conjured, the memory of Jin Ling's blood still sticky on his fingers.
It's an old, familiar nightmare, but Jiang Cheng can't calm himself. He can't shake off the feeling that something is terribly wrong. He paces the room in growing agitation. Why has Jin Ling sequestered himself away? If something were to happen, or if he was in danger, would anyone here even know to check on him?
Despite the hour, Jiang Cheng summons a Jin messenger butterfly and sends it fluttering off toward his nephew. It's a risk, one he can only hope goes unnoticed, because this isn't a technique the Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang should know. Jin Ling had insisted on teaching it to him when he was still a child, just so they could keep in touch while he traveled to Lanling Jin.
It takes too long for the butterfly to dissolve, and when it finally does, Jiang Cheng is left wondering whether it was received at all. What the hell? Jin Ling has never ignored a message from him. Over the next twenty minutes, he sends two more butterflies, sensing them both fade away without a response.
Finally, his patience snaps. He uses his qi to cast a simple glamor, assuming the appearance of a Jin servant before he makes his way to his nephew's rooms. When he knocks on the door, there's no answer. He pushes it open, his heart racing, only to find the room empty. None of Jin Ling's belongings are here, the bedding untouched. It's obvious the room hasn't been lived in for months. Where the hell is his nephew?
He almost calls for the guards, but a bolt of chilling clarity strikes him just in time, freezing him in place. Jin Ling is no longer the Sect Heir, so of course he can't be in his old rooms. The Jin have always cared about appearances; for them, the wealth and size of a person's home denote their status. That means Jin Ling must have moved into the Sect Leader's residence, like every other Jin Sect Leader before him.
The same rooms where Jin Guangyao once lived. The same rooms where…
Gasping, he wheels around and stumbles in a new direction, trying not to think about how often he's made this walk in the dead of night. Guards patrol the corridors at regular intervals, but Jiang Cheng has years of practice in getting past them. When he reaches the Sect Leader's residence, his stomach turns at seeing the doors sealed by silencing talismans.
Like they always were, on the nights when he'd visited Jin Guangyao.
Jiang Cheng dispels the glamor he's wearing and opens the door as quietly as he can, holding his palm to the handle. It swings open, still attuned to his qi. He almost begins the familiar motions for sealing his spiritual power, but he catches himself, exhaling.
He takes two steps into the room and comes to a complete stop once he crosses the entryway. Lan Sizhui is sitting atop a low table, knees spread, head thrown back, eyes closed in pleasure. One of his hands is tangled in Jin Ling's hair—Jin Ling, who is kneeling between his legs.
"GET YOUR HANDS OFF HIM!"
Both boys jerk away from each other. Jin Ling loses his balance and ends up flat on the ground, leaving Lan Sizhui exposed to Jiang Cheng's gaze.
Jiang Cheng's vision goes red and hazy with fury. He remembers with vivid clarity the feeling of Jin Guangyao's fingers tangling in his hair, and the hardness of this same marble floor under his own knees.
Trembling, he raises Zidian and aims a violet streak of lightning at Lan Sizhui's head. With a terrified yell, Lan Sizhui leaps out of the way. The table he was sitting on moments ago splinters into pieces.
Lan Sizhui scrambles to tug his clothes back in place. "Zongzhu, please," he stammers. "This isn't—"
Jiang Cheng doesn't want to hear it. He raises Zidian to strike again, and purple light cracks across the room. Lan Sizhui dodges out of the way with another cry.
Jin Ling rushes between them, raising his hands. "Jiujiu, stop! What are you doing? We're together! He didn't do anything wrong!"
A sliver of rationality trickles through his fury. It's not enough to stop Jiang Cheng from unleashing Zidian a third time. He turns from Lan Sizhui and slams the whip into another table, shattering it into pieces. Shaking and consumed by memories, he raises the whip again, now aiming for a wall. Jin Ling yells and grabs his arm, jerking his arm off course. The lash lands on the floor, cracking through marble.
"Jiujiu, stop this! Please!"
Jiang Cheng looks at him, and his stomach churns at the sight of his slick lips. He tastes bile, and it finally cuts through his blinding anger. He retracts Zidian with too much force, sending a shock wave up his own arm. There's a beat of stillness, Jin Ling staring at him with horrified incomprehension while Lan Sizhui still lies sprawled on the floor, gasping for air.
Then Jiang Cheng turns and stumbles from the room, lurching back through the same corridors he came through. He barely makes it to the nearest bathroom before he's on his knees, vomiting violently.
Fuck, he thinks to himself dazedly. What the fuck just happened.
When he's emptied his stomach, he crawls over to the basin and heaves himself up, rinsing quickly. Then, he sinks back against a wall, panting for air. The past and present blur together.
Jiang Cheng can't believe he's here again.
Jin Guangyao is dead. Jiang Cheng vowed he would never do this again, that he was done for good. And yet here he is again, sneaking through dimly lit corridors in the Jin family wing and using his qi to slip into the Sect Leader's home. He's even ended the night puking his guts out in the same corner bathroom, as if nothing has changed. Closing his eyes, he chokes out a hysterical, bitter laugh.
It takes him another hour to get to his feet and walk back to his rooms. He sinks down on the sofa and covers his face with trembling hands, trying to breathe.
He doesn't sleep.
…
The following morning, Jiang Cheng's skin is still crawling. He keeps circling back to that image of Jin Ling on his knees before Lan Sizhui. Unable to shake it from his mind, he feels jittery as he dresses for the day.
At breakfast, Jin Ling greets him with icy courtesy. Jiang Cheng can tell he's furious, biting back the words he wants to say because they have an audience of Jin disciples and servants. Neither of them has much of an appetite. After ten minutes, Jin Ling abruptly dismisses everyone else.
"I don't even know where to start," he says the second they're alone. "What the fuck were you thinking, barging into my rooms like that? How the hell did you even get in?"
"You locked yourself away, and your disciples wouldn't tell me why," Jiang Cheng says evenly. "Then I sent you three butterflies and you didn't answer me. What was I supposed to think?"
"I don't know, Jiujiu, maybe that it was the middle of the night?" Jin Ling retorts, his eyes flashing. "That I'm an adult who's entitled to privacy? That I'm a sect leader who should at least receive a note before I get a visitor, even if he's my own uncle?"
Jiang Cheng drops his gaze. "It wasn't that late," he mutters.
Jin Ling scoffs audibly. "Why are you here, anyway? I thought we were supposed to be keeping our distance?"
"I came to renegotiate a trade agreement with Lanling Jin," Jiang Cheng says. "But that's not important right now. That Lan kid, is he still here?"
"He left last night, and don't call him that. He has a name."
"How long has this been going on?"
Jin Ling looks like he wants to tell him it's none of his business. But then he pauses, takes a deep breath. "About five months," he says shortly.
"Five months?" Jiang Cheng repeats, shock blooming as he realizes that this must have started right around the time Jin Ling became sect leader. If anyone in Lanling Jin suspects he's a cutsleeve, it could cost his nephew everything. "Who else knows about this?"
"No one."
Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes. "Not even Ouyang Zizhen and Lan Jingyi?"
Jin Ling shifts in his chair. "Besides them."
"They've been covering for you," Jiang Cheng realizes. "All those night-hunts the four of you go on together—"
"We don't go on that many night-hunts," Jin Ling cuts in, defensive. "They're good friends. They won't say anything."
"What about your disciples? Are you really sure they don't suspect anything?"
Jin Ling scowls. "I know this might come as a surprise to you, Jiujiu, but I'm not actually a child anymore. I can keep my private life private, and I certainly don't owe you any explanations."
Jiang Cheng levels a stern look at him. "This is important, Jin Ling. Your position is still too unstable. If people find out he's visiting all the time—"
"He's not visiting all the time," Jin Ling counters. "We've been careful. He's only here once every two weeks or so, and he always uses a glamor to disguise himself."
Jiang Cheng stiffens in alarm. The secrecy, the glamor—that was how he and Jin Guyangyo always did things, too. "Is he taking advantage of you?" he asks urgently, his stomach lurching.
"What the fuck?"
"You can tell me, A-Ling. We can figure it out. If he has something on you, if he's forcing you—"
"Of course he isn't forcing me!" Jin Ling explodes. "Jiujiu, it's Lan Sizhui. He's one of the gentlest, kindest people I've ever met. How could you even think that?"
There was a time when people would have said the same about Jin Guangyao, Jiang Cheng thinks darkly. But looking into his nephew's eyes, Jiang Cheng knows he's not lying about this. He exhales, relieved there's nothing sordid or sinister at work here.
Still…even this is bad enough.
"Jin Ling," he says seriously, "this isn't a good idea. Bedding someone you can't acknowledge publicly—"
"Gods, why are you making it sound so gross? I'm not just sleeping with him, okay? I actually like him. And he feels the same way about me. We're together."
"And when were you planning to tell me?" Jiang Cheng demands. "It's already been five months. Were you going to wait another year?"
"The way you reacted, maybe I should have!" Jin Ling makes a wild, angry gesture. "What were you thinking, attacking him with Zidian like that? You practically destroyed my living room! You barged in, caught us in a private moment, and your first instinct is to nearly kill him?" His voice goes strained. "Do you have any idea how mortified he was that you saw him like that? And—and I am, too."
Jiang Cheng winces as the words hit home. "I'm sorry," he says more quietly. "I really did think something was wrong."
"I was in my own rooms! What could possibly have been wrong?"
If you knew the kind of wrongs that have been committed in those rooms—
"I know I jumped to the wrong conclusion," Jiang Cheng says, forcing his voice to stay even. "But it doesn't change anything. You're too young to be in a relationship like this. You don't know what you're doing."
Jin Ling's chin comes up at this, offended. "I'm seventeen. My father was betrothed to my mother before he was sixteen, and Hanguang-jun was even younger when he fell for Wei Wuxian. That's old enough."
"Those are both terrible examples," Jiang Cheng says, appalled. "And after all the scandals that just came out about the Jins, your position is too vulnerable for a secret relationship with a boy of lower rank and unknown parentage."
"Hey! Sizhui isn't—"
"Yes, he is," Jiang Cheng cuts him off. "He's not a sect heir, he's not of Lan blood, and no one knows who his parents are. So yes, he is of a lower rank and birth than the Jin Sect Leader." He pauses for a moment to let that sink in. "And for the record, I don't give a shit about any of that. I don't care that he's a boy, or even that he was born a Wen. That's not what this is about. But your sect is going to care, Jin Ling."
Jin Ling gapes at him, stunned. "Wait, you knew he was a Wen?"
"Of course I did," Jiang Cheng says. "I met him as a child in Yiling, months before you were born. When his name was still Wen Yuan."
"But…how?" Jin Ling asks, amazed. "Why were you even there?"
Jiang Cheng shrugs. "I used to visit sometimes. To give them money and supplies when we could spare it. The gods knew they needed it." He sighs. "Wen Yuan was always around back then."
"I had no idea."
"I wasn't exactly publicizing it."
Jin Ling sits back, studying him warily. "So…you've known who Sizhui was since the beginning."
Jiang Cheng nods.
"And you never reported him."
Jiang Cheng is hurt by his surprise. "He was only a child back then," he says. "You really think I'd do that?"
"Jiujiu, you almost killed him yesterday," Jin Ling says. "The look in your eyes—I've never seen you that angry. He wasn't fighting back—he wasn't even armed! But you still wouldn't stop."
Ice fills Jiang Cheng's veins. "And you think it was because he was born a Wen," he says.
"I'm not saying it was on purpose," Jin Ling says softly. "But deep down, are you sure it wasn't about that? You've always hated them, Jiujiu."
"Of course I have," Jiang Cheng says. "They massacred everyone in Yunmeng Jiang. They burned down my home, they killed my shidis and shimeis, they murdered my parents—"
His voice cracks as that blood-stained courtyard rises before him again—his parents' hands tangled in death as they never were in life. He can still feel the agony of a crushed core and discipline whip lashes, Wen Chao's rough hands on his hips, and Wang Lingjiao's sharp fingernails digging into his face.
Jiang Cheng takes a slow, careful breath, forcing it all back. "But Lan Sizhui is a Lan, not a Wen. I was just caught off guard yesterday. That's all."
Jin Ling nods, but he doesn't look fully convinced.
After a long pause, Jiang Cheng speaks again, more quiet and measured now. "Jin Ling, do you have any idea how bad it would be if this got out? You're the last Jin of the main bloodline. The Jins will never accept this."
"I'm the Sect Leader. I'll make them accept it."
"And how exactly will you do that?" Jiang Cheng demands. "They'll want heirs, A-Ling. Can Lan Sizhui give them to you?"
"Seriously?"
Jiang Cheng just looks back at him, his expression unchanged.
"You're really asking me that," Jin Ling says. "You of all people. Where are your heirs, Jiujiu?"
Jiang Cheng frowns at his tone. "Unlike you, I don't have relatives who could stake a claim on my position," he says curtly. "But you do. You think Jin Shan won't press his advantage if he finds out you're with another man?"
"I don't care," Jin Ling grits out. "No one is going to find out."
"A-Ling—"
"No, you don't get it!" Jin Ling's voice rises, eyes blazing with emotion. "Lan Sizhui is the only reason I was sane after everything with Xiao-shushu. You had to keep your distance, I get that, but don't you realize I was alone here? There was no one. Even Qin-yi was gone. Then one day, Sizhui stopped by Koi Tower. He was on his way back from Nightless City after burying the ashes of his relatives with Wen Ning, and he was really sad too. We talked, and that's when it began. Because he really gets it, you know? What it's like to have family that's…" He trails off, his jaw clenching.
"I'm sorry," Jiang Cheng says after a long silence. "I should have visited sooner."
"Not your fault," Jin Ling waves it off.
"It sounds to me," Jiang Cheng says slowly, "like you reached out to Lan Sizhui because you were lonely."
"That is not true," Jin Ling says sharply.
"Hear me out. All I'm saying is, you should be careful not to confuse friendship with—"
"Oh, gods, please just stop," Jin Ling groans with obvious frustration. "How many times are we going to go over this? I've already told you, we're together. I love him. I'm not giving him up."
Jiang Cheng knows he should let it go. Jin Ling isn't yielding, his patience hanging by a thread. Still, he can't keep the words in. "You're a teenager, A-Ling. It's only been a few months! How do you even know what you're feeling is love?"
Jin Ling's temper snaps. He slams his hands down on the table, almost cracking the wood with the force of his anger. "Who the fuck are you to tell me what I feel for him isn't real?" he snarls. "You've never had a relationship in your life that didn't end in shouting or tears. You think just because you've never loved anyone, I have to be incapable of it too?"
The words leave an awful, ugly silence. Staring into his nephew's furious eyes, Jiang Cheng is thrown back to the past.
"Liangfang-zun, please," Jiang Cheng says desperately. "He's all I have left to love in this world."
"I sympathize with your losses, Jiang-zongzhu," Jin Guangyao says mildly, "but I don't know what you think I can do."
"Jin Ling is in danger in Langlin Jin." Jiang Cheng's hands clench at his sides, panic clawing at his throat. "Help me convince your father to let me take him to Lotus Pier."
"You are overwrought," Jin Guangyao says with concern. "I assure you, the Jins are capable of protecting our own."
"Cut the bullshit," Jiang Cheng snaps. "Every Jin near the line of succession has reason to want him dead. Jin-furen's spies uncovered three assassination plots in the past month. She's the one who told me I needed to get him out. Her health is failing, and her protection won't last much longer."
"Jiang-zongzhu, I am distressed to hear this," Jin Guangyao says, and he really does look it, his face full of sympathy, "but I fear I am powerless to help you. If Jin-furen has been unable to convince Fuquin, what success will I have?"
"You're good with words," Jiang Cheng says. "You have his ear. You can find a way to make this happen if you want to."
"You overestimate my influence," Jin Guangyao says, "but if it eases your mind, I will talk to Fuqin about increasing security for A-Ling."
"That won't be enough."
"It's all I can do."
Jiang Cheng stares at him, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He feels almost unhinged with fear and grief. Without consciously deciding to, he drops to his knees and kowtows.
There is a sharp, shocked intake of breath from Jin Guangyao. "Jiang-zongzhu!"
"Please," Jiang Cheng begs, his voice raw, his pride gone. "You're his uncle too. I'll do anything, anything you want me to, but please help me save him. I can't lose him too."
Jin Guangyao studies him on the floor for a long moment, his eyes glinting with something nameless. Jiang Cheng stares up at him without moving, pleading silently. The moment stretches unbearably, and then something shifts in Jin Guangyao's demeanor.
"It seems like Jin-furen is losing her edge these days," he says coolly.
Jiang Cheng blinks. "What?"
"Her spies aren't as effective as mine. It was five assassination plots, not three."
Jiang Cheng springs to his feet. "Lianfang-zun—"
"Calm down," Jin Guangyao's amused voice cuts through his terror. "Who do you think foiled the other two plots? As you said, I'm his uncle too. I have no wish to see him dead. But you are right to conclude he won't survive long here, even with my efforts. So, I will speak to Fuqin. I'm sure I can convince my father to foster him at Lotus Pier with minimal interference, until he's old enough to return to Lanling Jin for training."
Jiang Cheng sags with relief. "Thank you," he whispers.
"Don't thank me yet. If I do this, it will come at a price."
"I—I can't afford to pay you." Jiang Cheng says, flushing with humiliation. "Lotus Pier is still rebuilding."
"I'm not talking about money," Jin Guangyao says, and then he smirks. Unlike his usual dimpling smiles, this one has a mocking, dangerous edge. "There are other ways to pay besides gold and silver, Jiang Wanyin."
Jiang Cheng stares, taken aback at being addressed without a title. Jin Guangyao's smile widens at the look on his face. He lays a hand on his arm, his fingers tracing over the cloth of his robes.
"Would you like to hear them?" he asks softly.
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor jerks Jiang Cheng back to the present. Jin Ling is on his feet, ashen-faced and stammering apologies. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, Jiujiu." He reaches out to touch Jiang Cheng's arm.
Jiang Cheng flinches violently, scrambling up and away from him.
"Sorry," Jin Ling says again, wide-eyed at his reaction.
Jiang Cheng shudders, trying to shake off the sensation of trailing fingers on his skin. He closes his eyes, gathering the tattered remains of his composure. "It's fine," he rasps.
For some reason, this seems to upset Jin Ling even more. "It's not! That was a terrible thing to say. Why aren't you yelling at me?"
"Do you want me to yell at you?"
"Of course I don't—" Jin Ling cuts himself off, giving Jiang Cheng a worried look. "You're being really weird."
"I'm not being really anything, Jin Ling." Jiang Cheng sinks back into his chair, exhausted. "We both lost our tempers. It's not the first time, and it won't be the last. Just let it go, alright? It really is okay. I know you didn't mean what you said."
Jin Ling looks uncertain, a hint of vulnerability and hurt still lingering in his face. "It's not okay, though," he says in a small voice. "You still don't approve of Sizhui."
"It's not Lan Sizhui, it's the risk I don't approve of," Jiang Cheng mutters. Then he slumps, too drained to argue anymore. "Never mind. Just…promise me you'll be careful."
"I will. I swear."
A heavy quiet falls between them. After some time, Jin Ling breaks it by clearing his throat.
"So, you mentioned a trade agreement?"
Jiang Cheng retrieves the papers from inside his qiankun pouch, grateful to have something neutral to discuss. He explains the salient points quickly, going over the figures and proposed amendments. Jin Ling barely glances over the terms. He asks a few perfunctory questions, but doesn't say anything about the numbers, agreeing to everything without pressing for details. On any other day, Jiang Cheng would have scolded him for being so lax—Jiang Cheng has definitely taught him better than this. But he can tell this easy agreement is his nephew's way of expressing regret for his ugly words, so he lets it go.
When they finish signing, Jin Ling hesitates, then asks, "How long are you planning to stay?"
"I'm leaving now," Jiang Cheng says. "My disciples were expecting me last night."
Jin Ling's face falls. "But it's been so long, Jiujiu. Can't you stay till tomorrow, at least?"
Jiang Cheng shakes his head. He's missed his nephew too—but the thought of another night in Koi Tower makes his skin crawl. He mutters something about paperwork piled on his desk and takes his leave as quickly as he can.
He doesn't go home immediately. Instead he races for hours among the clouds, recklessly burning his borrowed golden core, letting the cold wind whip his face and chill him from the inside out.
When he finally lands in Lotus Pier, it's pitch dark.
Lu Qiu takes one look at him and exclaims in alarm, "What's wrong, Zongzhu?"
"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."
"But you've flown in so late! Was there an issue with the trade agreement?"
"No, not at all." Jiang Cheng retrieves the agreement from his qiankun pouch and hands it to her.
She scans it quickly, her shoulders relaxing with relief. "He agreed to everything we asked for, then."
"Yes."
She looks at him more closely. "Did something else happen, Zongzhu? You seem..."
"Nothing happened," he says. "I'm just tired."
…
TBC…
Up Next:
“What do you mean, he finally agreed? Jin Ling, have you already invited them? Into Jiang territory, without my permission?”
“Of course not!” Jin Ling protests. “I would never do that. I’m asking you for permission— that’s what this is!” He gestures between them. “I only checked with them first to see if they’d be willing to come.”
“Instead of asking me first, and then checking with them?”
“You’d have said no if I’d done that!”
“How do you know I won’t say no now?”