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Life in Yunmeng was warm.
That was the first, long-lasting impression Nie Huaisang had of his new home. Qinghe was always considered to have the coldest lands in the cultivation world, so up north that some of their mountain peaks had snow all year round. Qinghe was imposing, with large mountain ridges and sparse greenery, surrounded by rolling clouds that swirled along the mountain peaks, with the occasional frost and snow.
Nie Huaisang missed it.
He missed the Unclean Realm, his first home, his sect and his brother. He was used to thicker clothes and roaring fires, thick stone walls, sheer rock faces and crumbling cliffs. Qinghe’s people, constantly exposed to the more extreme elements, tended to be more stoic and blunt by nature, tempered by hardships and suffering, accompanied by a cultivation style that prided power, aggression, strength, and violence over anything else.
His brother, Nie Mingjue, embodied the best qualities of the Qinghe Nie Sect.
And despite having the Unclean Realm as his home, Nie Huaisang had always felt he never belonged there.
Yunmeng could not be any more different. It was at the south, the weather warm with the gentlest breezes. It was surrounded by lakes and rivers, waterways connecting it to the rest of the cultivation world, with an abundance of water plants and animals. It was beautiful in a picturesque way, delicate and tranquil.
Yunmeng’s people were cheerful and welcoming, still managing to smile and live their lives despite the tragedies that befell them the past few years. They embodied their leading Sect’s motto well, for it seemed impossible to return to their friendly demeanors after experiencing the cruelty of Qishan Wen, and yet they still managed it. Their bodies may have broken, but their spirits had not, and it was that very spirit that touched Nie Husaisang’s heart and made him determined to see the Yunmeng Jiang Sect revived and returned to its glory once more.
It was the same spirit Jiang Cheng had, after all, and Nie Huaisang, from the moment he rested his eyes on the now Yunmeng Jiang Sect Leader, never really managed to look away since.
He loved his new home.
Lotus Pier was beautiful. Behinds its tall walls was a sprawling complex of dark woods and large rooms with sliding doors that opened to the open air and stunning views of the lake under them. It had multiple docks that could support many boats at once, and pagodas that offered different viewing points of the water and the mountains in the distance. Lotus flowers were abundant, sprouting out of the clear waters in full bloom and swaying gently. Where there were no lotuses, water lilies and lily pads floated undisturbed save for the occasional boat passing by, its white petals breaking the numerous soft pink of the lotus flowers.
His clothes were now made from thinner fabrics, in purples, pinks, greens and golds, airy and light, soft and allowed the wind to touch his skin. It also provided ease of movement, flowing well with each step he took, an action that required a little work in his Qinghe Nie robes. His fans had a more practical purpose now, actually used to cool himself down for when the days become too hot and humid, his cultivation not high enough to ignore such mundane, humane things like the heat and body temperature.
Nie Huaisang had only lived in Lotus Pier for a few years after its finished construction, and yet he felt like he was meant to be here all along.
High-pitched shrieks and shouts reached his ears, and he looked up from the letter he was reading, tilting his head in the direction of the sound. While there wasn’t anything unusual as far as his eyes could see, the fact that the sounds traveled this far into his private pavilion (Madame Yu’s actually, or at least, where it used to stand before), told him that whatever was happening, it was at the nearest dock, just out of sight from where he was currently sitting.
He closed his fan and stood up, admiring the view for one more second before glancing at the table, at the stick of incense that told him of the time.
Wèi hour. His husband should be training the disciples. Are they doing it by the water today?
Only one way to find out.
Nie Huaisang stood up, tucking his fan inside his sleeve. A small, engraved bell dropped and tinkled as it hung from the sash, making him look at it briefly in fondness before directing his attention to the matter at hand.
“Follow me,” he said to Nie Yuyang and Lihuan, two of his attendants who followed him from Qinghe, unfailingly loyal to him and to him only. They were his friends, his confidants, his protectors in a new, unfamiliar place. Not even his husband could order them around without turning to him for permission.
(A gift from his brother, just before he left Nie Huaisang in his new home, to his now husband.
“Don’t forget to write to me, Huaisang.” Nie Mingjue muttered against his hair, while Huaisang clung to him as tightly as he could, near tears. “And stop your tears this instant! Do you want Jiang Wanyin to think our Sect is weak?! You are the Young Madame of Lotus Pier now! Act your station!”
“But da-ge,” Huaisang had sniffled, trying his best not to let the tears spill over, since he had just gotten married, and he wasn't a small child anymore. But this was the last time he would see his brother for a long time, his first time being away from home for good, all alone, and terror was not enough to describe the emotions swirling in his chest.
Nie Mingjue had sighed and stared down at his younger brother with a fierce scowl but with kind eyes. His voice was rough, even to Huaisang’s ears, as he lifted his sleeve and dabbed at Huaisang’s eyes with uncharacteristic gentleness.
“You are strong, Huaisang. You'll be fine. You have the blood of the Nie in your veins and we have always stood proudly against adversity. Jiang Wanyin is a good man, and you are the one he chose to stand by his side. Take pride in that.
“Even in your new home, you will never be alone. I will make sure of it.”)
“At once, Young Madame Nie.” They bowed as one and fell into their usual few steps back, watchful and attentive as Nie Huaisang left the pavilion and walked through the wooden walkways that brought him to the docks, enjoying the warm sunlight and the light breeze that stirred his hair and cooled his face.
The sight that greeted him made him blink.
A single piece of rope was tied from one of the dock posts to a partially submerged wooden post in the middle of the lake. The rope was pulled taut, and on top, a large number of disciples were balancing themselves in measured spaces from each other, bare-footed and trying their hardest not to fall into the water. There were a few smaller boats around as well, who had already fetched the ones who failed their training and was shivering in their soaked clothes, faces pale.
His husband was on the edge of the pier, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in observation. Zidian was unsealed in Jiang Cheng’s left hand, its tip submerged and sending purple sparks across the water’s surface. Tendrils of lightning crackled threateningly underneath the disciples’ feet, just inches away from the water, and one of them audibly whimpered.
“Work together!” Jiang Cheng was barking, looking unimpressed with the number left still standing. “It’s your fault for letting your shidis and shixiongs fall and get hurt! Communication and teamwork is necessary during night-hunts! If you can’t carry your own weight, you will be useless! Now, if you can’t come back here on the dock, we’ll be doing this everyday until you can!”
“Yes, Sect Leader!” The disciples chorused, before slowly inching their way back to the dock, making the rope sway, and Nie Huaisang’s eyes widened, recognizing the somehow familiar setting.
The Gusu Lan Sect was famous for their arm strength, developed through doing handstands and carrying weights for long periods of time. Qinghe Nie trained their disciples by throwing all of them on one side of a cliff with just the right amount of ledge for them to stand upright, with the instruction to be the first one to reach the other side by any means necessary. It led to them fighting one another to get through the ridge, and one wrong step or the right move will send one of them falling down the cliff, instilling the aggression and fight the Qinghe Nie Sect is well-known for.
Of course, nobody died, with nets spread underneath and senior disciples around to help break their fall and certain death, but the disciples didn’t know that at first, the senior disciples are well-hidden, and the nets were so thin they were almost invisible.
This must be Yunmeng Jiang’s way to train balance and flexibility, as well as teamwork. Not getting a nasty shock by Zidian was enough of a motivation to not fail, with the added difficulty of looking after your fellow sect members and focusing on their well-being as much as yours, with the goal of no one falling down and everyone reaching solid ground.
Attempt the impossible, indeed. No wonder Yunmeng Jiang is one of the four great Sects. Nie Huaisang placed his fan on the lower half of his face to hide his wince as another disciple met his unlucky end. His pained yelp as Zidian’s power sizzled through his body, amplified by the water, was truly pitiful.
Nie Husaiang took a brief moment to appreciate his husband, fanning himself lightly to remove the flush creeping up his cheeks. Jiang Wanyin truly was one of the best cultivator gentlemen of their generation. The black and violet robes fit his husband perfectly, stretched tightly across the expanse of his broad back, tapering down to a narrow waist. His hair was pulled back and up in its usual bun, exposing a sliver of light-colored skin and lines of deep, light red gouges Nie Huaisang distinctly remembered putting there a few nights before.
(“Please,” Nie Huaisang had begged, begged so ardently for mercy, for release, nails scratching down his husband’s neck and back. “Please, Wanyin-xiong—A-Cheng, husband, ah…!”
“No,” Jiang Cheng had growled, teeth sinking down against his neck, hips never stopping their pace, slapping obscenely against bare flesh. “Not until you lose your voice, screaming my name.”)
Face completely red now, Nie Husaiang smacked his face with his fan. Shameless! Utterly shameless! He was no better than Wei Wuxian at this rate, to ogle his husband in broad daylight in front of others!
Taking a deep breath, Nie Huaisang carefully schooled his expression, still feeling warm, and approached the dock slowly.
His husband noticed him first, as always. He inclined his head and, just ever so slightly, angled his body towards Nie Huaisang, light grey pupils dilating and never failing to send shivers down Nie Huaisang’s spine. Nie Huaisang didn’t miss the appreciative glance of his chosen clothes today, in colors of light purple and dark green, cut and styled in the latest fashions.
“Xiang gong.” Nie Huaisang saluted politely and properly, still formal despite the very intimate title. Almost audacious, really, considering his predecessor called her husband “Lord Jiang,” at best, and “Jiang Fengmian,” at worst.
(But Jiang Cheng never complained about the address the first time Nie Huaisang said it, merely stared at him and his steadily reddening face at first, before saying—)
“Niang zi.” Jiang Cheng nodded back, and Nie Huaisang wondered if it would ever change, the sensation of his stomach flipping and his heart stuttering whenever Jiang Cheng acknowledged him as his wife. Nie Huaisang hid his pleased smile behind his fan.
(It also kept their image of a united front strong, with the implication of Yunmeng Jiang and Qinghe Nie’s alliance still intact. Appearances were everything in the cultivation world, and Nie Huaisang refused to let anyone think of Yunmeng Jiang as beneath them.)
“Greetings to Young Madame Nie!” The disciples in training called out, some even trying to salute in their precarious situation, and Nie Huaisang was suitably impressed.
His husband definitely was not.
“Who told you to lose focus?!” Zidian hummed, and lightning leapt from the water, crackling towards the disciples, and the shrieks of terror that ensued made Nie Huaisang chuckle.
“Now, now, my lord, there’s no need for that,” A brief press of his palm against Jiang Cheng’s upper arm, felt it tense under his touch before relaxing imperceptibly. “They are only being filial. I heard the screams from my pavilion and thought I should check and see what is happening.” He explained lightly, glancing at the disciples in and on the water.
They all looked like drowned rats, poor things. Nie Huaisang could definitely sympathize with them at the moment. “They look exhausted, and the sun is quite unforgiving at this time. Perhaps a few minutes of rest and shade will do them some good?” He asked delicately, always a suggestion, never an order.
“Young Madame Nie!” The disciples cried out, faces filled with gratitude and awe, and his husband turned to him, leveling an unimpressed look at him that could only be considered a glare by everyone else. He met Jiang Cheng’s gaze with his own, placid, quietly agreeing to whatever his husband decided to do.
After a moment, Jiang Cheng looked away with a ‘tsk’. “You spoil them too much.” He whirled towards his disciples, brows twitching. He snapped Zidian against the lake’s surface, causing pillars of water to rise and shower all of them with a cooling rain.
“And all of you! Using my wife to save yourselves?! Disturbing him with your undignified screams?! Have you no shame?!” He raised Zidian and snapped the rope in an instant, causing the rest of them to drop to the lake. With a yank, Zidian is coiled obediently around his husband’s hand, returning to its ring form. “Return to the docks! Run twenty laps around Lotus Pier this instant! Be grateful that my wife decided to take pity on you!”
“Yes, Sect Leader Jiang!” The surrounding boats neared, hauling the soaked disciples on them. Once everyone was on board, they all saluted Nie Huaisang deeply. “These disciples thank Young Madame Nie for his compassion and kind consideration!”
Nie Huaisang smiled and waved their gratitudes away, watching as the boats docked behind them and the disciples ran as fast and as far away from them as physically possible. Running laps were nothing compared to what they were doing before, and Nie Huaisang was sure the disciples would appreciate the moment of reprieve.
It was only when they were completely alone, after his husband sent his attendants away, that Jiang Cheng completely focused on him. “Why did you send them away, Huaisang?”
Nie Huaisang blinked, before averting his gaze quickly. His beloved husband, as sharp of a nail as ever. “I… actually don’t know what you’re talking about, Wanyin-xiong. Send them away? I would never! I did want to know why the disciples are screaming, but now that’s over and done with, I really should return back and finish reading my letters, they are not going to respond to themselves—” Nie Huaisang said, turning to leave, waving his fan in sweeping gestures, but a firm grip on his wrist stopped him in his tracks.
“Nie Huaisang.” Jiang Cheng’s frown never left his face, his brows furrowed still. "You know I hate it when you do that.”
Silence.
Nie Huaisang faltered, shoulders releasing its tight tension. “... I’m sorry, A-Cheng.” His apology was sincere. “Habit.”
To hide, to be as harmless and non-threatening as possible, so no one would suspect, so no one would target them. He couldn’t be a headshaker anymore.
He was the Young Madame Nie of Lotus Pier and the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, and he had to act like it.
(“I promise to be true, and to hide nothing from you, Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wanyin, for as long as you would have me. For as long as you are my husband, and I am your wife.”)
“Hmph. As long as you realize.” His husband loosened his hold, but his touch lingered, Nie Huaisang’s pulse deceptively light and fleeting under his fingertips.
Jiang Cheng’s palm was so warm.
“Huaisang. Tell me.”
Nie Huaisang sighed, “I know you are concerned about the upcoming Discussion Conference,” watched as his husband becomes rigid, “and you are worried that our Yunmeng Jiang will lose face and come last in all the competitions.”
“...” Jiang Cheng turned away, and this time, it was Nie Huaisang who held his hand and kept him there, refusing to let him walk away, because wasn’t this a part of his wifely duties, to comfort and assure his husband?
His husband’s jaw was set tightly, a nerve ticking under his skin. “If you knew, then why did you stop me?”
It was rare for Jiang Cheng to look this troubled, and it made Nie Huaisang’s heart ache. How many times did his husband have to stubbornly bear the weight of his problems alone, before Nie Huaisang had to remind him, again and again, that he was there?
I am beside you, Nie Huaisang wanted to tell him, moving and catching Jiang Cheng’s chin with his fingertips, coaxing his husband to look at him. Nie Huaisang studied his husband’s face, reaching out to push back the longer bangs that framed Jiang Cheng’s handsome face.
You are not alone.
“Because, xiang gong, you are working too hard.” Nie Huaisang closed his fan with a sharp snap and poked Jiang Cheng’s chest with it. Jiang Cheng was visibly startled, staring down at the flimsy thing that was attacking him lightly. “I understand your worries, and they are not unfounded. But running the disciples into the ground will not help them succeed, and worrying needlessly over it now will not affect their future results.” Nie Huaisang shook his head.
“They will be fine.” He said with conviction. “They are trained by Sandu Shengshou, one of the heroes of the Sunshot Campaign, the youngest Sect Leader of this generation. Whatever happens, whatever places they may get, they will not lose face for Yunmeng Jiang.”
Jiang Cheng regarded him for a moment, mulling over his words, and his lips twitched upwards.
“Then this husband will listen to his wife’s scolding, and will heed his words of advice. What should I do then, niang zi?”
“What you need to do is calm down.” Nie Huaisang said pointedly, tapping his fan against his husband’s sternum with every word he said. “Cultivate, read a book, go to town, whatever you need to do to take your mind off the Discussion Conference. You may even visit the brothels if you wish.” Even if just saying it brought a bitter taste on Nie Huaisang’s tongue.
Jiang Cheng made a face, and Nie Huaisang thought his husband looked adorable. “For the last time, I will not seek a bed that is not my wife’s.” His husband exhaled. “Calm down, huh…” He mused, continuing to stare at him, and Nie Huaisang completely missed the glimmer of mischief that sparkled in those light grey eyes. “Will swimming be an acceptable method of calming oneself down?”
“Of course.” Nie Huaisang agreed without hesitation and a little confusion, completely unaware of the arms that were slowly but surely wrapping themselves around his waist. “In fact, I would recommend it. Yunmeng is a wonderful place to swim. Didn't you do that when you were younger, with Wei-xiong?”
“En. He was better at it too. If murder wasn’t illegal, my mother would have had him buried under the lake for all the mischief he did in the past. If I remember correctly, you know how to swim too, Huaisang.” Jiang Cheng said idly, one foot moving back slowly, purposefully, right at the edge of the dock.
Nie Huaisang frowned. “Not well, but I can float if necessary—” Jiang Cheng’s arms were suddenly around him, holding tight, and Nie Huaisang knew he had just made a huge mistake.
His hands scrabbled against the front of his husband’s robes, trying to get away, but he was caught in a clever trap.
“Wha— A-Cheng, no!”
“Then niang zi would not object if he joined this xiang gong in his swim.” Jiang Cheng said almost cheerfully, taking another step back, and proceeded to pitch them off into the lake, clothes and all.
Nie Huaisang’s loud screech went unheeded as they went under, the cold water immediately surrounding them, flooding his senses. The arms that kept him in place loosened, allowing him to move away, and Nie Huaisang pushed for the surface, coughing, eyes watering, nose stinging.
This part of the lake wasn’t deep, water reaching to his chest, but the lotus flowers here grew tall, its wide leaves shielding him from the sun’s rays above.
“I can’t believe you!” Nie Huaisang wailed, looking down at his clothes in dismay, at the now waterlogged fan that floated by a nearby lily pad. “I liked these clothes, you jerk! And my fan! Jiang Wanyin, come out! How dare you do this to me!”
The nerve of his husband! Jiang Cheng was just as bad as Wei Wuxian if he put his mind to it. And he liked these robes too! See if Jiang Cheng would sleep beside him tonight. No matter how much he groveled, his husband was staying outside their quarters!
But a minute has passed, and his husband did not answer.
… No. Nothing bad could have happened. Disciples from the Yunmeng Jiang Sect were great swimmers, their Sect location was literally beside a lake! It was his husband who found a way out of the Xuanwu cave, with a bloodthirsty man-eating monster at his heels! If there was anyone who could survive being thrown into a large, deep pool of water, it was Jiang Cheng.
But where was he?
“... Wanyin-xiong, this is not funny! Where are you?!” Nie Huaisang slowly waded deeper into the lake, pushing the lotus stems apart for a sign of purple and black, but it was silent, save for the wind quietly rustling as it moves through the tall lotus pads.
Just as Nie Huaisang was about to panic and scream for help, something burst from the water in front of him, giving him the fright of his life. Hands snaked around his chest, dragging him against a firm surface, and his instincts quickly took over. He lashed out, hand connecting with soft flesh, and the abrupt cry of pain made him immediately stop in horror.
It was his husband, who was staring wide-eyed at him, clutching at his cheek, which was starting to swell from the force of Nie Huaisang’s hit.
Nie Huaisang wanted to drown himself in the lake and never come out. “A-Cheng! Are you all right?!” His hands hovered anxiously over Jiang Cheng’s face, trying to see if he did any significant damage. His palm cradled his husband’s cheek, trying to pass on spiritual energy to heal the bruise quickly. “Did I hit you too hard? Are you bleeding?”
“... If you hit another person like that, you’ll definitely have a fighting chance of survival.” Jiang Cheng said after a moment, humming thoughtfully. “Not bad, Huaisang.”
Suddenly, Nie Huaisang remembered how he got there in the first place, and he had never felt so bullied in his entire life.
“You...! You—!” He knew what he must have looked like right now, completely red in the face, hair sticking to his face and skin, a complete mess. “Serves you right! You’re terrible! I hate you!” With his other hand, he smacked Jiang Cheng’s chest repeatedly, as hard as he can, which probably amounted to nothing compared to his husband’s level of cultivation. That slap was a complete fluke, and Jiang Cheng was prepared for this, anyway. “I’m telling da-ge and da-gu you’re bullying me!”
Jiang Cheng threw his head back and laughed instead. Nie Huaisang froze mid-hit, looking up with wide eyes.
… It had been a very long time, since he last heard that sound.
(In the Cloud Recesses, fifteen and still naive, loud, wild, and carefree. How Nie Huaisang, even back then, yearned to be the one to make him laugh that way.)
Jiang Cheng’s hair was loose. The purple headpiece and ribbon was gone, and it made Jiang Cheng look so much younger and vulnerable in a way Nie Huaisang had never seen. It was longer than anyone expected it to be, since he always put it up in a complete bun. But it fell straight down, a curtain of black ink that fell past broad shoulders and floated on the water around them.
His husband looked… happy. Free. It was a good look on him.
Nie Huaisang made his husband laugh. Even if it was at his own expense.
Once the injury was healed Nie Huaisang turned around and crossed his arms with a huff of air, refusing to look at his husband. Jiang Cheng would never apologize to him through words, it wasn’t in his temperament to do so.
But what Jiang Cheng couldn’t say with words, he did with actions.
The quiet slosh of water alerted Nie Huaisang to Jiang Cheng’s movement. Before he knew it, his back was against a firm chest, arms going around his waist and lifting him up, just enough for him to be able to float on the water.
It took all of Nie Huaisang’s self control to not melt against his husband. He just… felt so warm, gathered in his husband’s arms, safe and protected.
For a moment, they were both silent, Jiang Cheng quietly apologetic, Nie Huaisang scolding himself for being so weak to his husband’s touch.
“... I’m still angry at you.”
The arms around his waist tightened, just a little. “En.”
“If I get sick because of this, it’s going to be your fault.” Nie Huaisang continued, petulant, even as his arms move of their own volition to cover Jiang Cheng’s own.
He felt, more than saw, the shrug that accompanied Jiang Cheng’s answer. “Then I’ll stay by your side and nurse you back to health.”
“But you still have sect duties to do. Surely that takes more precedence than taking care of your sick wife.” Nie Huaisang said with a sigh, tilting his head to the side, allowing the other more access.
“It is my duty as a man to take responsibility for my actions.” Jiang Cheng answered, matter-of-fact.
What a man! Nie Huaisang barely managed to stop himself from swooning.
“Then you owe me a new fan.” He demanded immediately. “And clothes. I liked that fan a lot.”
“I’ll buy you ten of those if you want.” Lips muttered against the side of his neck, the warm breath against his chilled skin making Nie Huaisang shudder.
“A-Cheng!”
He felt the gentle press of a mouth on his shoulder. “Huaisang.” I’m sorry, Jiang Cheng’s lips seemed to say, brushing along every bit of skin it could reach.
How shameless! Nie Huaisang colored immediately, biting his lip, relieved that Jiang Cheng couldn’t see his face.
He really shouldn’t give in so easily. And yet…
And yet…!
“... Fine. Carry me out of here. My legs aren’t working properly.”
He felt Jiang Cheng smile against his neck, victorious. “As my wife wishes.”
Nie Huaisang cursed himself. He was so weak, so pliant, letting himself be bullied and seduced like this.
But if it was his husband, his Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang was willing to do anything.
Not when he had finally found the place where he belonged.
Nie Huaisang finally tilted his head up and met his husband’s eyes. “And tonight… stay with me, xiang gong?”
“... Always, niang zi.”