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Light rapping at the door rouses Jiang Cheng from a fitful slumber, one plagued with interruptions and intermittent wailing. Not from him, although since losing his entire family he’s certainly done his fair share of infantile weeping in the solitude of his own bedroom, away from prying eyes and wagging tongues. He thought he’d feel more satisfaction and relief when the last member of his family, his brother in everything but blood, had met his untimely destruction, finally and mercifully falling prey to the resentful energy channeled within him. Yet, all Jiang Cheng has felt since then is empty.
Lies, he thinks with a frown, an untruth he yearns for instead of the bitter tonic of raging emotions he continuously consumes against his will. Jiang Cheng feels guilt, remorse, anger, and devastation in equal measure, all day, every day. It fuels every action he takes as a man and a sect leader, yet never any as an uncle. Like a beacon lighting the way on his murky, troubled path, he dotes upon Jin Ling to the best of his capabilities, which he is aware lack warmth and a tender touch.
“Come in,” instructs Jiang Cheng reluctantly, wanting instead to hide from his numerous daunting responsibilities. As the door opens, he regrets that last thought, merely another in an endless line of musings he would take back if he could. Entering his quarters is the one and only positive piece of his life that flourishes inside him, a tiny colorful bloom nestled within his heart of thorns.
One servant carries Jin Ling across the threshold, handing the fussing infant over to Jiang Cheng, giving a brief summary of the few hours since he’s last seen and comforted the child. Another servant trails behind, nervously placing a tray with Jiang Cheng’s breakfast, including a tepid bowl of congee for Jin Ling, on the low table.
Jiang Cheng waits until the two women leave, and then croons at his nephew, nuzzling his nose lightly into a chubby, damp cheek. “I’ve got you, A-Ling. There’s no need to raise a fuss this early in the morning.” He gently bounces the child in his arms, proud and dismayed at how many months he’s already cared for Jin Ling, time stolen from two people who should still be alive and watching their son thrive at Koi Tower instead of wallowing with his lonely relation in Lotus Pier. A fleeting image of whisking both Yanli and Jin Ling off towards Yiling to spend precious moments with the boy’s other uncle assails him, before it vanishes like fog and he’s slammed back into the harsh reality of this life, this timeline.
Jiang Cheng sets Jin Ling down, grasping soft, pudgy hands in his, holding them firmly for control. “Alright, now let’s keep working on those steps. You need to be strong and capable and the best cultivator of your age. Never second best, Jin Ling, do you hear me?” He stares down at his nephew, wide brown eyes gazing up at him in awe, and he swallows past aching recollections of the best disciple of YunmengJiang, the one to whom he had always fallen short - in competition, in skill, in his father’s heart. He had come second in his mother’s eyes as well, yet that was in deference to his beloved sister, and he has never and will never begrudge her anything.
“You will always come first for me, A-Ling,” promises an uncle with nothing except blazing sincerity and an iron will. He will push and defend this boy with every bit of passion that stirs within him. “Now walk.”
Tortuous and deliberate, but hand-in-hand, Jiang Cheng lets Jin Ling lead them over to the table. He sinks to his knees, dipping his chin in a moment of gratitude for the child seated across from him. He closes his eyes and allows himself a little time to wallow in the memories of every person who should be present, all of whom would treasure Jin Ling with the same fervent devotion.
Except they are absent, gone forever, and he is all who remains on this earthly realm, alive and solely responsible for this boy. He sneers as he shakes off encroaching contemplations of another uncle, one he doesn’t trust and will keep far away from Jin Ling if he has the power - if he could keep this child safe from the greedy, unrepentant custody of Lanling forever, he would.
Jin Ling sticks his hand in the bowl of congee before the man can react swiftly enough to stop him. His nephew giggles, tears long forgotten now that they sit to eat, and Jiang Cheng feels his mouth twitch at the corners, smoothing into an expression he is shocked his face still knows how to recreate. There is no pretense - Jin Ling makes him happy, and manages to fill him with a small and brittle sense of contentment. So far, Jiang Cheng hasn’t managed to make a catastrophic mess of this relationship.
“Ba,” babbles Jin Ling, merrily stuffing food into his mouth, messy paw efficiently moving between the bowl and his face.
Jiang Cheng gazes at him indulgently. “What’s that, A-Ling? Are you trying to talk finally? That’s good enough, I suppose. Tell me again.”
Jin Ling pushes the bowl towards Jiang Cheng and the untouched plate of steamed pork buns in front of him. He holds up a palm filled with congee, gesturing towards his stumped uncle. “Ba.”
Jiang Cheng shakes his head with a more natural frown gracing his face. “Jin Ling, that’s congee, food. Say-”
“Baba! Baba!” The child’s lip quivers and his eyes fill again with tears, although perhaps it’s the moisture in his own eyes that make Jiang Cheng think Jin Ling is about to cry. Awareness dawns like a nightmare over Jiang Cheng as his nephew’s insistence blinds him with its agonizing clarity. His nephew wildly flails his arms forward, wanting no one beyond the man crumbling across the table from him. “Baba?”
“Jin Ling, no. No!” Mind racing, threatening to collapse entirely under the sudden pressure that clamps down on him, the horrified sect leader scrambles ungracefully around the table on his knees. He grabs at the infant, nearly toppling him over before scooping him up into his arms. “No, I’m not….I’ll never be...A-Ling, I’m only your uncle, your uncle!”
Jin Ling bawls, voice rising in volume along with Jiang Cheng’s pleas. Despair descends over him as he cuddles the baby against his chest, desperately battling the overwhelming helplessness that threatens to consume him. As they rock together on the floor, breakfast forgotten behind them, thick, salty tears douse Jin Ling’s dark hair, baby-fine locks sodden with the proof of his uncle’s grief and weakness.
“Jiujiu, jiujiu,” chants Jiang Cheng miserably into Jin Ling’s head, mumbling a mantra that is meaningless to this boy for now, but carries all the information necessary to easily crush him in the future - it has already broken Jiang Cheng. The thin strand he has been balancing on frays down to nothing, and Jiang Cheng plunges back into a darkness he had only barely managed to scrabble out of in the first place, drowning again in everything he’s lost.
As he clutches Jin Ling to his breast, the only breathing blood he has left, he clings to the one thing within his reach, vowing yet one more time to protect the offspring of his cherished sister with every bit of power he possesses within him - Jin Ling might be his nephew, a disciple of a different sect in the looming future, but Jiang Cheng will serve him with nothing short of his own life. If the moment ever comes when he is required to lay down for this boy, he will do it sparing no idle thought for himself.
This child deserves more than one man can possibly ever give back to him, he’s lost nearly everything, yet Jiang Cheng calms himself with the certainty that he will die trying. Jin Ling will survive and ascend - he will accomplish everything Jiang Cheng could never even dare to fathom.
He is not Jin Ling’s father, he will never attempt to be. There are stories to be told, lessons to be learned, a painful history that one day soon enough will be shared with this child. Jiang Cheng has no desire nor delusion of protecting this boy from the burden of his family’s past. For now, all he can do is provide what little comfort he can muster to this small, precious child whose heart beats with the same lonely rhythm.