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Jin Ling is three when he puts a hand through his father’s chest. It’s an accident, really, but there is something morbidly comical about his little chubby fist sinking into the fabric of Baba’s shirt, first somewhere slightly off-center in his ribcage and then deeper. He has just enough time to frown and babble the beginning of a question before a chair scrapes against the ground and he is taken from Baba’s arms, gathered into Mama’s instead, and promptly shushed.
“Ling-er, don’t push too hard, we haven’t fixed Baba’s stuffing yet,” she chides, and his eyes immediately fill with unshed tears.
“It’s all right.” Something is being rearranged, fabric rustling, but he’s buried his face in the crook of his mother’s neck and stubbornly refuses to look, sniffling. Baba’s voice is hesitant when he speaks again. “A-Li, do you think we should…”
“Isn’t he too young?”
“We’ll stop if he doesn’t understand. I just feel like we ought to try.”
Jin Ling is three when he learns his parents aren’t like any other parents. (Not that he’s ever met other parents. Or other children, for the matter.) “I know,” he says, puffing his cheeks. “Better...better than other babas and mamas.”
Baba pats his head. “Not like that, A-Ling.”
They are, as they put it, dead , as opposed to jiujiu , who is alive . He, too, is alive, as Mama demonstrates by holding his little fingers against his neck and asking him to look for the thump-thump-thump . When he finds it, she brings his hands to her neck instead. No matter how often he changes spots, he cannot find the little drum under her skin. Her throat is as cold as the rest of her, and utterly silent.
She shows him how his chest rises and hers doesn’t. When she holds a mirror before their faces, the surface turns a milky white in front of his mouth and remains limpid in front of hers. There are a lot of differences like these, Mama explains, that make her and Baba different from living people like him.
It all seems simple enough for Jin Ling, but— “I thought you slept after me. And you...” His little face scrunches up with the effort of looking for the word need . “Wasn’t hungry.”
“For three years,” Baba snorts, right before Mama gives him a pointed look that reads don’t make fun of him , and it peters out into an awkward grunt. Jin Ling huffs and clings to her, glowering at his father so hard Jin Zixuan tries (and fails) to roll his eyes, muttering something about taking after his uncle too much.
Knowing doesn’t change much, if anything at all. Baba and Mama are still themselves, prompt to indulge him, to spend time in the garden with him to catch butterflies and lull him to sleep with stories at bedtime. He still listens to the rhythm of their dancing steps in the kitchen when sleep evades him, and the muffled rumble of their laughter.
( It is no coincidence the first sentence Jin Ling spoke was I love you . One cannot hear it as often as he does and not remember. )
When he grows older, he is given an explanation he can understand. He is told of a war, the Sunshot Campaign, of a now-extinct sect. Of the man called the Yiling Patriarch, who rose bright as a star only to crash and burn just as quickly. The story is vague after a certain point : Jin Ling only knows it ends with Baba and Mama as they are today, not living but not properly dead either.
He is not told of brothers and burning homes, of what was lost and never found again ⎯ not yet. That is a story for another time, Baba tells him as he tucks him into bed.
You should not have to know yet , is what he says. These words stay with Jin Ling long after the conversation ends.
-----
In six years of life, Jin Ling has never seen his mother smile.
He has, however, felt her smile countless times as she rubbed her hands together in an attempt to warm them up before cupping his face between them and gently tugging the corners of his mouth up. “There,” she’d chirp every time. “I gave you a smile.”
Then he would reach up, she would bend to his height, and he would do the same, pressing his little fingers against her lips. “For you too,” he’d say, and Mama would make a hoarse sound like laughter and smother him in kisses until he was rolling on the floor giggling.
All in all, Jin Ling is far from an unhappy child. He is, however, a restless one.
There are three rules his parents will never let him bend, regardless of circumstances.
The first, Mama says, is that he must always be as kind as he can be. Fortunately, the wording of this is vague enough that he can argue about whether what he did fits in that frame or not. Just do what your mother would do , is what Baba usually adds to this. It makes Mama shake her head and hide her face in her hands, which Baba seems to find entertaining and endearing in equal measures.
The second, Baba tells him, is that he must never mention his parents’ names to someone he hasn’t seen in the house before, or even imply the existence of this place and its inhabitants to people from the outside. In this situation, and this one only, they say, he is allowed to lie bold-facedly. There is no or else , but their somber looks were enough to frighten Jin Ling into obedience.
The third, they remind him, is that he is not to go beyond the limits of their house alone. It isn’t so big a deal when Jin Ling is still small, content with crawling around in the grass and chasing butterflies on stumbling legs. The world seems endless then, and he usually tires himself out before he reaches the limits of their domain.
But as all children, he grows older, and the last row of charmed trees planted at the edge of their garden, once a shield against the world and whatever danger might be lurking outside, becomes a source of frustration. He’s tired of waiting.
He tells his Nie- shushu as much the next time the man takes him out for an afternoon in town. It is the day after his seventh birthday, which was celebrated at home, with lotus-shaped lanterns in the garden (the nicest ones made by Mama’s deft hands, and the slightly lumpier ones by father and son’s best efforts) and the largest bowl of longevity noodles he’s seen in his life.
( “He acts like a rich auntie,” jiujiu said once, snorting. Jin Ling doesn’t see anything wrong with that, especially when he gets honey cakes and new toys out of the deal nine times out of ten. )
According to shushu , today is meant to make up for his absence yesterday. According to Jin Ling, shushu wants an occasion to bring him to a fancy tea parlor and tell him about Qinghe, about the people passing by, about the news of the cultivation world, about whatever crosses his mind right as he speaks. Jin Ling doesn’t blame him ; it’s always nice to know someone is listening to you with all the attention they can muster, and what shushu says is usually interesting besides.
He loves him for it. Nie Huaisang always treats him seriously, despite other cultivators’ claims that he never values anything besides his own comfort. The deal is the following : he gets one more uncle in his motley family, and Sect Leader Nie gets, as he puts it, someone to dote upon and instill some good taste into . When Jin Ling asks him what he means by good taste, he flutters his fan and tells him he’ll show him when he’s older. For some reason, it always seems to get a rise out of jiujiu whenever he’s present.
“I’m so bored!” he complains on one of their days out. The statement is accompanied by a rather dramatic sigh, especially for someone whose feet don’t even touch the ground when up on a chair yet.
“I thought you had lessons,” Nie Huaisang replies. The corners of his mouth quirk up a little. “Surely they take up a good share of your day.”
Jin Ling pouts. “There’s reading and calligraphy with Baba, and mathematics with Mama. She’s showing me how to make a kite, too.” She’s also been carving a new wooden sword for them to train with, but since he saw her look around before carefully stashing the unfinished toy into one of the chests in hers and Baba’s bedroom, he figured he’s not supposed to know yet. “But I want to go outside some more! Can’t you ask jiujiu for me? Please? He listens to you.”
Nie Huaisang chuckles. Jin Ling would have missed the slightly pinker tinge of his cheeks if he didn’t know any better. “A-Ch...Wanyin only listens to himself ⎯ and to your mother, obviously. What makes you think I could succeed where she didn’t?”
“I haven’t asked her yet,” Jin Ling admits. Now that it’s been brought up, though, why hasn’t he? It’s not as though Mama is the type to scold him without reason.
He understands, however, that his parents’ reluctance also has to do with the people they used to be. It has to do with Grandmother, who visits from time to time and dotes upon Jin Ling endlessly, pinching his cheeks and asking him ten times over if he wants for anything. She also always talks at length with Baba before she leaves, and though Mama usually chooses this moment to steer him away with the promise of a new game or a walk in town, he still manages to catch snippets of the conversation.
The words heir , bastard , Koi Tower , watchtowers are the most frequently heard, and they must mean something special to Baba. He always looks frustrated the rest of the day, and even after he’s gone to bed, Jin Ling can still hear him and Mama talking among themselves, when the very same words surface again (except bastard , which seems to be replaced with the name Jin Guangyao ).
He could ask shushu what they mean now, Jin Ling ponders. But even as he entertains the thought, part of him realizes this may be one of the subjects Nie Huaisang is unwilling to bring up with him, at least for now.
Instead, he barrels forward. “But I will! I really want to train and be a cultivator like Baba and jiujiu , I’ll tell her!” he adds, with as much determination as he can muster. “And if you ask jiujiu too, he’ll definitely agree! He really likes you!”
And oh , that is definitely a blush on shushu ’s face. It is promptly covered up by his fan (maybe he should ask his parents to get him one, given how many uses it has in shushu ’s hands), but Jin Ling knows what he saw. Nie Huaisang takes a conspicuously long sip from his teacup before speaking again. “What a clever young master you are. Fine! I will give your uncle a little nudge about it, but don’t blame me if he disagrees.”
The little boy beams at him. “You will? Thank you, shushu !”
Shushu grins back and reaches out to give the top of his head a light smack with his now-closed fan. “Now, now, don’t get so excited when we’ve hardly done anything.” He glances at the sun outside and gives an exaggerated start. “And it’s getting late, too! I haven’t even given you your birthday gift yet. Not right now!” he hastily adds, seeing Jin Ling’s mouth open in excitement. “First you’ve got to help me surprise your father, and then I’ll give you your present. How’s that?”
Jin Ling shrinks back, his eyes wary. “What’s the surprise? Mama said not to trust you too much with surprises for Baba.”
Shushu snorts. “She’s not wrong. We really were a heap of young fools back then, eh…” For a moment, his gaze seems lost in time, before he snaps back to the present. ( You’re not that old , Jin Ling wants to say, but it is true that sometimes, all the adults around him feel that way – older and more tired than they should be. ) “If you still won’t trust me, let me tell you this…”
It must be the barking that alerts Baba and Mama. When shushu and Jin Ling arrive within sight of the house, both of them are standing at the door, Baba looking both excited and on his guard, and Mama sporting the long-suffering look of someone who’s resigned to see things happen regardless of her input.
The noise Baba makes when he sees what they’ve brought with them is worth it, though. “Beibei? Xiao Yue?” He crouches, holding his arms out. “Is that you? C’mere, c’mere!”
The two older dogs shushu has been leading along hesitate, dragging their feet. They shuffle toward Baba all the same, cautiously eyeing him and sniffing at his outstretched hands. Then something clicks into place, and they pounce on him, barking their lungs out. One mastiff and one shih tzu aren’t enough to knock down a fierce corpse, but Baba topples over all the same, until he’s lying in the grass with two dogs methodically licking at his face and nudging his hands for pets.
Mama howls with laughter, her hands clasped together. Baba looks as though he could cry, hugging the dogs to his chest, his face half-buried in their fur. “It’s me, it’s me,” he keeps repeating. “You’ve grown so big! Who are the most beautiful pups? You are, yes you are!”
Shushu hangs back, looking rather proud of himself. When he catches Jin Ling looking, he winks at him. “Come here, A-Ling. Now that you’ve helped me, here’s your gift.” He takes the little boy’s hand in his and slips the leash he’s holding into it. At the end of it is the fluffiest puppy Jin Ling’s ever seen, wiggling its tail, its little pink tongue hanging out of its mouth.
Jin Ling looks up at his shushu with wide, slightly watery eyes. “It’s really for me?”
Nie Huaisang pats his head. Jin Ling’s tempted to tell him he’s not the puppy. “She is. She doesn’t have a name yet, though, so you’ll have to pick one out yourself.”
Jin Ling kneels and holds out his hands toward the puppy like he’s seen Baba do. After an initial moment of hesitation, the pup toddles towards him and butts her head against his palm.
I would die for you , he decides immediately.
While he lets the dog climb into his lap, Baba has finally managed to stand up. Mama hands him a wet cloth to wipe the slobber from his face, but his hair’s still mussed up from rolling around on the ground. Somehow, his ever-pristine father doesn’t look like he minds. “Thank you, Sect Leader Nie,” he says hoarsely. “It...means a lot to me.”
Shushu inclines his head. “You’re welcome, Jin- xiong . I thought it would make a nice gift, is all. There were some transactions between our kernels recently, so I took the occasion.” He shrugs. “I remember that dog you brought to the Cloud Recesses, poor thing. Yapping outside the walls day and night. The pup I brought A-Ling is part of a litter, but it’d probably be best not to dump all of them onto you at once, so...”
“Your father raised these dogs himself back when we lived in our old house,” Mama explains to him in hushed tones, as Baba and shushu strike up a conversation about the virtues of Koi Tower’s hunting dogs versus the Unclean Realm’s. “Xiao Yue and Beibei were still quite small when we...left.” Her gaze grows fond. “I didn’t think I’d ever see them again, but I’m glad they’re here.”
She joins him in cooing at the pup. It seems to love Mama as well, if the way it tries to lick another stripe onto her cheek when she lifts it into her arms is any indication. “What are you going to name her?” Mama asks, scratching the small patch of fur between the dog’s ears.
Jin Ling hesitates, his face scrunching up in effort. “Princess?” he ventures after a while. “Or Fairy.”
Mama snorts, then immediately schools her expression into something more dignified when she notices her son’s pout. “I really like Fairy,” she reassures him. “It’s a lovely name.” Under her breath, she adds, “Wait until your jiujiu hears about this.”
She passes the dog back. Jin Ling cradles the newly-named Fairy in his arms until the pup grows restless and wriggles out of his grip, choosing to go explore his new surroundings instead. He follows her, occasionally throwing small sticks at her to see if she knows how to fetch them yet. ( She doesn’t. )
In the periphery of his senses, he hears Mama invite shushu to stay for dinner, which he graciously accepts. The evening is cool around them, peaceful silence broken by the occasional yipping from Xiao Yue and the low chatter of conversation. Jin Ling forgets his grand declarations in favor of one more quiet evening at home, surrounded, as always, by family.
-----
As it turns out, convincing his parents to let him study cultivation isn’t quite as difficult as he thought it would be. It does necessitate some arrangements with jiujiu , but in the end, everyone agrees that it’s about time for him to study in a proper sect.
The first time Mama walks Jin Ling and Fairy up to the gates of the Lotus Pier herself, she fusses endlessly. “Come home whenever you need anything, you hear me? Be nice to your jiujiu , and to the other disciples too. Treat everyone with respect like I taught you, but don’t let them walk all over you. And⎯”
He lets her talk, not bothering to point out he’s only a short distance from home. He could walk back for lunch and dinner everyday if he wished, but Baba said something about how it’d be good for him not to cling to them forever and spend more time with other children his age instead.
( Really? Mama had commented then. A-Cheng told me you barely ever even talked to disciples who weren’t from your own sect when you were studying together in Gusu. She’d said it jokingly, but Baba had still spluttered. Jin Ling was sure that if he could blush, he would have turned bright red. )
It’s not like he’s never been here before. He knows the residence of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect third best out of every place he’s been in in his life, first being home, and the second the town of Yunmeng itself.
This time is different, though. There’s a world between visiting once in a while to spend the day with his uncle, and living here for real. Mama might be the one fretting over him right now, but Jin Ling himself feels a little pang of homesickness rearing its head inside his chest. It’s stupid, he knows, especially as he can still go home whenever he wants, but it’s the first time he’ll potentially be away from his parents for days at a time and maybe he’s a little scared, what of it⎯
In no time at all, they’re standing in front of the gates to the Pier. He can hear the sounds of training inside, and children’s laughter too. It really won’t be so bad , he tells himself. It’ll be great, even, and I’ll get to see jiujiu everyday. Besides, he asked for this first, and among all things Jin Ling’s inherited from his father, he’s definitely taken after a fair share of his pride. There’s no way he’ll be the first one to regret his decision.
He doesn’t ask for comfort, mind you. But he still slips his hand into his mother’s and gives it a gentle tug.
Mama bends down, lifts her veil and beckons him underneath it to press a kiss to his forehead. As always, her lips are cold, but Jin Ling leans into her touch all the same, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “I’m so proud of you already, Ling-er.” Her voice is shaking a little. “But I’m telling you this now, because you won’t hear it among cultivators. I wish I’d known when I was your age.”
She brushes a few stray strands away from his face. There is endless tenderness in her golden eyes. “It’s all right if you don’t turn out to be good at cultivation. It’s not all there is to life, and you know neither Baba nor I would ever love you any less for it.”
It doesn’t feel like that much then and there, but Jin Ling will remember these words when he’s older, and feel more than grateful for them. Right then, though, he obediently bows his head and says : “I’ll keep it in mind. I’m still going to be good, though!”
Mama puts her hands on his cheeks and tugs the corners of his lips up, the gesture familiar. “I know. You’re too stubborn not to. Now go, before you’re late to see jiujiu .”
“You’re not coming with me?”
“No. It’d make too many problems if someone inside recognized me.” Her lips move, not unlike a sigh - if she still had breath. Mama stares up at the purple banners embroidered with Yunmeng Jiang’s nine-petaled lotus, and wistfulness casts a shadow over her face.
It disappears almost as fast as it came, but it still makes Jin Ling reach up and give her hand one last squeeze. “I’ll say hi to everyone for you!”
She squeezes back before letting go of his hand and nudging him towards the tall wooden gates. “Good boy. You’ll tell me how your first day goes, won’t you?”
“I promise!” As if to emphasize the point, Fairy lets out a high-pitched yip and bounces along Jin Ling, all the while throwing glances back at Mama to see if she’s looking properly. She’s readjusted the veil of her weimao over her face, her expression out of sight, but she raises a hand and waves as her son disappears into the Lotus Pier.
Jin Ling finds his uncle on the training grounds, running a bunch of weary-looking disciples through a series of sword stances. “Is that how you’ll hold it faced with a walking corpse?” he hears jiujiu chide. “Forget a corpse, a strong enough breeze would knock it out of your hands!”
He clears his throat. Jiujiu looks behind him, and despite his gruff tone, something in his expression clears. “A-Ling, there you are! Took you long enough!” He turns towards his disciples, who mostly seem relieved to have someone else take up most of their Sect Leader’s attention. “Everyone, this is your new shidi . Treat him well.”
Jin Ling can see his uncle struggle not to add an or else . Here, they’re not supposed to be so closely related, and so he has nothing that should warrant special treatment. Zhao Ling , he mouths to himself. This is the name he should answer to, from now on. He still likes Jin Ling better, but he’s also old enough to understand how dangerous it might be.
The older disciples crowd around him with interest, asking him about his life before he came here, his parents. He replies with the practiced lie his parents explained to him : he’s the son of one of the Jiang family’s cousins and her husband, both of whom have now retired from the cultivation world. Sect Leader Jiang had the kindness to reach out to his relative even after she’d left Yunmeng Jiang Sect to ask her whether she wanted her son to become a disciple here, and she’d accepted the offer.
It’s simple, and apparently delivered convincingly enough that no one seems to bat an eye at it. Before long, jiujiu reminds everyone a new arrival doesn’t mean they’re exempt from wrapping up practice for the day, and they’re left alone for the time being.
His uncle looks him up and down, as if sizing him up for a new set of robes. ( Maybe he is ; Jin Ling’s excited for that, given how pretty the Jiang Sect’s purple clothes are. ) His gaze lingers on the boy’s head. “These are new,” he says in an oddly choked-up voice.
It takes Jin Ling a moment to figure out what he’s talking about. When he does, his hand comes up to touch the new symmetrical braids along the sides of his head, running into his ponytail. “I asked Mama to do them for me!” He beams at his uncle, fidgeting where he stands. “Do you like them?”
Jiujiu ’s expression goes through several complicated stages before it settles into a smile. He reaches for Jin Ling and draws him to his side, gently ruffling his hair. “I do like them. They’re...they’re neat.”
A little bit of his homesickness dissolves as he leans into his uncle’s side. He’s pushed away pretty fast (still, always gently) and shooed off to pick up a few sets of uniforms and settle into his new rooms.
Jin Ling adjusts the sash of his purple robes, ties Yunmeng Jiang sect’s silver bell to his belt and sticks his tongue out at his reflection in the mirror. In that moment, everything feels like it’s as right as it should be.
------
Father, Mother,
You were right, the Cloud Recesses really are very pretty. But did you know they added another thousand rules since you studied there? There’s four thousand and nineteen of them now. I had to copy them once and I thought my wrist would fall off. Before you scold me, it was because of that idiot Jin Chan! He’s so self-important, I couldn’t let him keep talking about how his sect is the best and the greatest and we’re all idiots for not licking Jin boots all day. ( Obviously, it doesn’t apply to Baba. But Jin Chan’s still the worst. )
Lan Qiren is still teaching here. The rules are quite boring, but it’s funny to see everyone try not to fall asleep. I made some new friends too! Their names are Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi. Sizhui’s very sweet, he reminds me of you a little, Mama. And Jingyi gets into a lot of trouble, but he’s also talented, so it evens things out.
I found Ouyang Zizhen here too! He said we could maybe go on night-hunts together when we’re both back home, since we’re old enough now. ( Do you think Uncle will let me? He’s friends with Sect Leader Ouyang, right? ) We went into Caiyi to buy sweets after training. I got a new tassel for Suihua and toys for the dogs, I’ll show you when I’m home.
I miss you both a lot, though. It’s not the same knowing I can just go home if it gets too much. Even if it’s interesting here, and I’m glad for the people I met, I look forward to going back to Yunmeng.
Please say hi to Uncle for me, and tell Beibei, Xiao Yue and Fairy I miss them.
With all my love,
A-Ling.
-----
Jin Ling is fourteen on the night that pitches the world off-balance.
“A-Li,” Baba says. They’re in the middle of dinner — meaning all three of them sit at the table, but only Jin Ling is eating, shoveling spoonfuls of warm soup into his mouth as fast as his parents’ keen eyes over his manners will let him. “Do you...do you hear it?”
“Hear what?” Jin Ling asks between two sips. On any other day, he would have been scolded for it and reminded not to speak with his mouth full. Today, Baba and Mama only exchange a haunted look.
“The flute.”
There’s no flute , Jin Ling want to say, but the expressions on his parents’ face are enough to dissuade him. Their features barely change, still frozen in death, but Baba’s eyes harden in response to whatever he’s hearing, and Mama throws a worried look out the window.
Jin Ling feels somewhat out of place. To him, the night is what it’s always been, only disturbed by the occasional rustling of wild animals in the grass...
...No, that’s not right. He, too, can feel some kind of new tremor in the air, though it mustn’t be anywhere as acute as what Baba and Mama are experiencing. Something - or perhaps someone - is calling from the outside.
“It’s him,” Mama whispers. She clutches Baba’s arm, a mixture of dread and anticipation swirling in her eyes. “I’m sure of it, A-Xuan. I’d know him anywhere.”
“Wei Wuxian is dead! How could it be him?”
Mama retorts something (he catches the words don’t know and return and help ), but Jin Ling’s mind has blanked out. Wei Wuxian is one of the names Mama has advised him to never bring up outside, and only with extreme care to the people they know. ( Shushu , for example, will usually barely flinch, while jiujiu is much more likely to clam up, Zidian crackling at his finger. )
After all, Wei Wuxian killed his parents. It is because of him Baba’s heart is missing, and Mama keeps her throat wrapped in silks regardless of the weather.
Jin Ling finds he doesn’t hate him as much as one should hate their beloved parents’ murderer. Perhaps it is because despite it all, Baba and Mama are still here to raise him, even through their unusual circumstances. Of course it matters that they’re dead, but Jin Ling’s had enough nightmares in which they were truly gone, vanishing from his life before he had the chance to know them at all, not to mind too much. The very thought makes a shiver run down his spine, even now.
In the time it takes him to ponder the matter, Baba rises from his seat. Mama accompanies him, her hand still clamped tight around his arm. It doesn’t look like they’re moving of their own free will at all, though. If anything, the jerk of their movements reminds him of puppets pulled along on a string.
Jin Ling asks the first question that successfully shoves his way through its dozens of adversaries. “How do I help you?”
His parents look at each other, then back to him. “There’s nothing for you to do, A-Ling,” Baba says.
“I think we’re just meant to follow the call,” Mama adds.
“Then I’m coming with you.” It’s simple as that. He fetches Suihua from where it’s hanging on the wall and hands Mama and Baba their respective weimao , which they quickly pull over their heads. The long veils obscure their features ; it will have to do, given the summon has already made them reach the door, and it’s visibly taken much of their self-control to stall this long.
Mama makes a helpless noise, as though she wants to tell him no but understands she cannot make him budge on this one. “Put on something warm, Ling-er!” is what she settles on instead. “You’ll catch a cold on a night flight.”
“Really?” Jin Ling still obeys her, clumsily throwing on a set of outer robes. He runs after his parents, whose steps have already led them out of the house, inexorably pulling them towards the enchanted borders of the garden. They’re heading East, whatever it means.
“Be careful!” Baba orders. “Keep close to us, you hear?”
“I know! It’s not like we’ve never done this before!” Not in these circumstances, he’ll admit. Still, his parents’ fussing provides him with a sense of familiarity, keeping his fear at bay.
Fairy gives a distressed yap as Jin Ling rushes past her, sword in hand. He pauses just long enough to rub her head. The gesture is soothing, even as his heart threatens to burst out of his chest.
“You can’t come this time, big girl,” he tells her, giving her one last pat for good measure. “Be a good pup and look after the house, okay? And don’t give jiujiu trouble when he comes back!” Not that he’ll be back anytime soon. Last thing he knew, Sect Leader Jiang was somewhere near Dafan Mountain, dealing with the threat of a soul-consuming monster.
He wastes another minute giving Beibei and Xiao Yue similar recommendations before they let him go, not without a last good-luck lick on his cheek. By the time Jin Ling straightens, Baba and Mama have disappeared from sight. Shit!
He wastes no time mounting Suihua and rising into the evening sky. Fierce corpses may run too fast for an average mortal to catch up, but a cultivator on a sword stands a fairly good chance. Before long, he’s found his parents again, following the blur of their progression from above.
He loses track of how far he’s flown, or how much spiritual energy he pours into his sword. The moon rises and falls behind the horizon again before Baba and Mama stop. He steers Suihua towards them and almost collapses when he touches the ground, caught just in time in Baba’s arms.
“He shouldn’t have come with us! He hasn’t slept a wink and he’s exerted himself all night, it’s a miracle he’s still standing.”
“Good luck stopping him from following along, he’s as stubborn as you are!” Jin Ling feels Mama’s soft hands patting his cheeks, checking him for other signs than simple fatigue. “Sleep if you want, Ling-er. We’ll carry you.”
“‘M fine,” he mutters, trying to extricate himself from his parents’ hold. He succeeds, but has to lean on Suihua for a moment to blink sleepiness out of his eyes.
“A-Ling?”
Oh, damn it. That’s jiujiu ’s voice, and he doesn’t sound pleased.
The scene clears into something his brain can process. He and his parents are still standing away from the heart of the action, as is their habit, but for some lost forest at the foot of a nondescript mountain, the place is crawling with cultivators. Not only from Yunmeng Jiang Sect, but also - by the look of their robes - Lanling Jin Sect, a handful of other minor ones, and too many rogue cultivators to count. Most don’t pay attention to them, too busy clearing out the remnants of what looks to be a rough-hewn statue. A lot of the surrounding trees also look like they’ve taken their fair share of blows, sporting burned branches or deep scratches across their bark.
He’s got absolutely no idea what the hell happened here, but it must have been a lot.
Jiujiu catches up to them, his expression half-furious, half-concerned. “A-Jie! And you two!” he hisses, glaring towards Baba and Jin Ling. “What are you doing here? There’s some Jin cultivators here, do you want them to see you?”
Mama steps in front of Jin Ling, effectively hiding him behind her. “We didn’t know!” she protests. “I...We heard…” Her voice falters. “A-Cheng, is A-Xian here?”
Jiujiu ’s face turns a very interesting shade of red. He looks, for a few moments, as though he wants to say no . “I don’t know,” is what he finally grits out.
Baba blinks at him. “Someone played the flute and summoned us here. It couldn’t have been any demonic cultivator.”
Jiujiu pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’d swear it was him, but⎯” In halting sentences, he tells them about the statue of a nameless goddess come to life, the cultivators it killed, right up until some stranger - not even a cultivator! - turned up, and soon in his wake, the Ghost General himself, who’d broken the goddess to pieces and disappeared before anyone at the scene could catch him.
Shuddering is too subtle a movement, but Baba’s grip on Jin Ling’s shoulder tightens. “Who was he, that man?”
Jiujiu shrugs. “Never saw him before. Some of the Jin Sect cultivators recognized him as one of Jin Guangshan’s bastards. Lost his marbles, they said.” Belatedly, he remembers who he’s talking to. “No offense meant.”
“None taken. What happened with him? Shouldn’t you have kept him here?”
“I would have, if I could! But no , Hanguang-jun had to show up and of course no one’s going to argue against him ⎯”
“A-Cheng,” Mama interrupts before jiujiu can get started on a tirade about whatever grievance he has against Lan Wangji. “If A-Xian is back, I need to see it for myself. Where did they go?”
His uncle sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose against. You’re gonna rub it off someday , Jin Ling almost says (it is what Mama would do, after all), but perhaps this is not the right moment.
“Lan Wangji said Mo Xuanyu would be coming back with him to Gusu.”
