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The start of Jin Ling’s catastrophic descent into debilitating pining is certainly not a graceful one, to say the least.
It began on the decks of Lotus Pier, on the way back to his bedchambers following a particularly rowdy banquet. Despite it being only the start of the summer, the humid heat of Yunmeng’s rain season had still pervaded well after sundown. The night’s festivities had left Jin Ling stumbling on his feet after being persuaded into drinking a few too many toasts from cultivators trying to get into Lanling Jin’s good graces and Lan Sizhui, the ever benevolent gentleman he was, had insisted on escorting him back to his quarters as the banquet wound down after narrowly saving him from a particularly humiliating collision with a decorative flower arrangement.
Of course, Lan Jingyi, who also bore witness to the incident (and nearly suffocated himself laughing) had naturally also insisted on tagging along, never one to pass up a chance to find further amusement in Jin Ling’s suffering.
Although Jin Ling had repeatedly insisted that the effects of the wine were close to wearing off, the two Lan disciples still flanked him closely on either side, each keeping a hand on his shoulders. Although he’d initially grumbled that they were embarrassing him, that he was a strong independent sect leader with a reputation to uphold and an absolutely functional sense of balance thank you very fucking much, Jin Ling would certainly be lying if he said they hadn’t stopped him from accidentally ploughing into one too many a support structure with the way his vision had started to blur.
“Is it just me, or is your sense of balance somehow getting worse over time?” Jingyi hisses loudly.
“Certain wines just take a while to kick in, I suppose.” Sizhui says lightly, a hint of barely restrained amusement in his voice as they barely manage to steer Jin Ling away from another beam. “At least, that’s what I remember Senior Wei telling us.”
Jingyi heaves an exaggerated sigh, reaching out with his free hand to pinch Jin Ling’s cheek patronisingly, to which he groans in protest. “Poor Little Mistress. Just what are we going to do with you?”
“You’re both being overdramatic. I’m really not as drunk as you both seem to think I am, alright? I’ve flown on my sword feeling worse,” Jin Ling lies.
Jingyi rolls his eyes. “Nothing you’ve done in the past two incense times suggests you still even have any semblance of depth perception, so I’m going to have to call bullshit on that one, Little Mistress.”
Jin Ling opens his mouth to defend himself. But before he can even utter a single syllable, his body is wracked with a sudden wave of nausea and he barely manages to lean over the pier’s railings before he starts retching violently.
“Oh, that’s impressive. Good distance, clean entry, minimal splashing. I’d almost call it elegant if I wasn’t so grossed out right now,” Jingyi laments, roughly patting Jin Ling’s back in a way he probably assumes is comforting, but is really probably just putting some god awful creasing in his expensive silk robes.
Jin Ling slumps miserably against the railing, defeated. “Just be glad I’m sober enough to aim for the river at this point, this could very well be going straight over your robes.”
“Look, Jin Ling, I know us Gusu Lan Disciples are just about the least qualified people in the entire cultivation world to lecture you on this, but you really ought to be a little more careful about your limits,” Sizhui placates gently, carefully holding his long ponytail out of the way.
Jin Ling laughs bitterly.
“Hah, you don’t have to tell me twice. I’m never touching that stupid Emperor’s Smile shit ever again. No wonder Wei Wuxian loves that stuff so much….”
He’s barely able to finish his sentence when his stomach begins to twist uncomfortably again, forcing him to go back to emptying its contents into the lake.
Jingyi wrinkles his nose as he glances at Jin Ling’s pitiful state, primly pushing his sleeves further up his elbows. “I have to agree with Sizhui on that one, Little Mistress. Can’t say you’re looking much like the epitome of sect leader material right now.”
Jin Ling barely manages to lift his head up in his miserable state to shoot him an unamused glare. “Who asked you? Is it too much to ask to let me suffer in peace now?”
“Jingyi, don’t be mean. Jin Ling is suffering more than enough as it is.”
“Hey, it’s not like it’s our fault he inherited his uncle’s temper instead of his alcohol tolerance – Hey hey heeeey, I was just kidding, okay! Watch where you’re aiming!” he shrieks, skittering backwards as Jin Ling suddenly turns around to emphatically dry heave in his direction.
Sizhui only sighs, long since used to their antics, levelling Jin Ling with an exasperated glare as he lunges towards Jingyi, trying to separate the two. “Okay, okay, can we all just calm down a little? There is really no reason for cultivators of your level to be resorting to weaponizing bodily fluids, after all.”
In hindsight, Jin Ling supposes what happened next was technically his fault. He should have known better than to fool around so close to the water edge at all, let alone with an impaired sense of balance. It was common knowledge among Lotus Pier’s residents that the wooden decks were notoriously slippery after the summer rains – a lesson he’d certainly learned a blood many times while growing up, with the scrape scars on his knees to prove it. At the time, however, his intoxicated brain had decided that there was something irresistibly amusing about Lan Jingyi’s scandalised expression- amusing enough, apparently, to warrant him attempting to chase him across the pier in an attempt to recreate it.
Regardless, just as he manages to catch the corner of Jingyi’s sleeve, Jin Ling’s foot slips against a particularly wet patch of the glazed wood, sending him sprawling over the edge of the pier with an undignified yelp, Jingyi in tow.
He barely has time to squeeze his eyes shut before he plunges into the lake’s freezing embrace, the impact of the water’s surface knocking the breath out of his chest. He chokes around a mouthful of lake water as he struggles to blindly paddle his way back to the surface, the sudden coldness a sharp contrast against the humid heat of the night air. He splutters when he finally breaks through the surface, gasping for air and rubbing at his stinging eyes, suddenly feeling significantly more awake than he did a few seconds ago.
When his vision finally clears, he’s met with Sizhui’s concerned shouting as he kneels at the edge of the pier, asking if he was okay. He opens his mouth to reassure him that he’s fine, but is abruptly cut off by a wave of water flying at his face, leaving him coughing and choking again. Jin Ling struggles to shoot a glare at his assailant through his sputtering. “Was that really necessary, asshole?”
Jingyi looks equally pathetic as he shivers in the water several feet away, the wet bangs hanging over his eyes doing little to hide his scowl. “And who’s fault is it that we’re currently soaking in freezing cold puke water?”
Jin Ling feels his face flush in embarrassment. “How was I supposed to know that this was going to happen?”
“I- What? You were the one who grabbed onto me!”
“I was falling and I panicked, okay! I didn’t mean to! B-Besides, what did you expect to happen, provoking a drunk person so close to a body of water-”
“You-! Would it seriously kill you to apologise first for once in your life?”
Sizhui clears his throat loudly from above them. “I really hate to interrupt, but is there any chance you two could continue this conversation after we’ve gotten you both out of the water?”
Thankful for the change in subject, Jin Ling nods in the general direction of the riverbank. “The water is shallowest near the bank over there. That’s probably the easiest place to climb out of here from, unless you want to swim all the way back to the docks. You can make it that far, right?”
Jingyi rolls his eyes. “What do you think? I’ve kept myself afloat this whole time, haven’t I?”
They paddle the rest of the way to the bank in tense silence, Sizhui rolling up his sleeves in preparation to pull them up. “Alright, who’s going first?”
“Jingyi can, I guess.” Jin Ling says quietly, his cheeks flushing pink despite the cold, “It was my fault that we fell, after all.”
Jingyi blinks in surprise, before his face pulls into a grin. “It’s fine, it happens to the best of us – I mean, it was pretty slippery up there, to be fair.” He laughs, nudging Jin Ling’s shoulder before reaching up to take Sizhui’s outstretched hand. “Alright then, since the Little Mistress was kind enough to offer - pull me up, Sizhui!”
Jin Ling lets out a quiet sigh of relief as the heaviness in his chest dissipates. He closes his eyes and leans back to float lazily on the water, giving his legs a much needed break from kicking constantly to stay afloat. It had always been like this between them; Jin Ling had always been an incredibly defensive person, despite his best efforts- an unfortunate vestige of a childhood spent socially isolated for reasons outside of his control, while Lan Jingyi was unable to resist calling out even the most insignificant of slights, never one to back down from a shouting match as long as he was convinced he was in the right. Fortunately, they were both almost comically bad at dealing with the tense awkwardness that came with holding grudges against each other, and it would only a matter of time before one of them would crack. Jin Ling likes to think that through their years of friendship, they’d honed their specific flavour of conflict resolution down to a science, with most of their arguments rarely lasting more than a few minutes.
That train of thought comes abruptly to a grinding halt, however, when his eyes drift back over to the edge of the pier.
Lan Jingyi is halfway out of the water, one hand braced against the edge of the pier as he lifts his knee onto the deck, his back arched into a pretty curve as he pulled himself out of the lake. The thin white fabric of his robes, soaked through with lake water, are almost translucent, sticking to every curve and contour of the tight, corded muscle that line his back and arms, leaving next to nothing to the imagination.
And oh , is it a fucking view to behold.
Jin Ling only realises how long he’s been staring when his head bobs underwater again, making him choke loudly on a mouthful of water. Jingyi shoots him a confused look over his shoulder, which only adds to Jin Ling’s confusion and suffering as the motion causes his back to strain harder against the thin fabric.
The usual uniform of the disciples of the Lan sect is famed in the cultivation community for its simplistic, practical elegance– billowing white fabric and flowing sleeves strategically constructed to flow gracefully with its wearer’s movements without limiting their mobility. An unintended consequence of the elaborate design, though, is that the layers upon layers of material also essentially obscure any discernible form of the wearer’s body underneath. Something to do with one of their sect’s 4000 rules about chastity and self discipline, Jin Ling would guess. It would be all too easy to just assume that the body under all those layers of fabric would probably be in a similar condition to his own. Not to mention, Jin Ling had always remembered Jingyi as being shorter than him. Sure, the difference is only a few centimetres, barely noticeable unless one was specifically looking for it, but those few centimetres had been something that Jin Ling had proudly held over him for the majority of their teenage years, making the image before him all the more upsetting.
For the first time since he’d toppled into the lake, Jin Ling actually feels thankful for the biting cold as an inexplicable wave of heat begins to pool beneath his skin.
Much to his frustration, he couldn’t even pinpoint why he’s being so affected by it, apparently to the point of temporarily forgetting how to float. While it is hard denying that his sheltered upbringing as the sole heir of the Jin sect had resulted in him lacking the practical experience most young masters his age probably had when it came to appreciating the human physique, he still couldn’t bring himself to look away.
It isn’t like Jin Ling hadn’t been expecting Jingyi to have any muscle definition at all. Training to become a cultivator is notoriously physically demanding, and rumours of the Lan Sect’s particularly punishing methods of physical conditioning had been a long running subject of speculation and gossip among young disciples of most of the major sects. Even his own body had filled out nicely over his years as a senior cultivator, the childlike softness that once covered his lanky frame replaced by flattering lines of lean muscle. Yet, while Jin Ling certainly isn’t ashamed of how his body looked, he knows for a fact that his own back muscles have nowhere near the perfectly defined ridges on display before him.
Just what have the Lan sect been feeding their disciples?
“Uh…. Little Mistress? You…You good down there?”
….Ah. Clearly he hasn't been as subtle with his ogling as he thought.
“Huh?” Jin Ling asks, eloquently, as he struggles to cough out the last of the lake water stuck in his throat in a way that he hopes come off as casual.
Jingyi raises an eyebrow from where he’s kneeling next to Sizhui on the deck, wringing the water from his ponytail. “We just watched you go under three times within the past minute. Was that supposed to be intentional, or is the cold actually getting to your brain?"
Jin Ling rolls his eyes. “It’s still summer, dumbass. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m just waiting for the last of the alcohol to wear off is all.”
“Cold or drunk or whatever the case, let’s just focus on getting Jin Ling out of the lake first, hm?” Sizhui interjects, shooting Jingyi a warning look as he leans over the edge to hold on to Jin Ling’s arm.
Jin Ling winces as his arm is slowly stretched to its limit, the strain of his weight slowly moving to his shoulders. “Ow, okay, are you sure this is right? I don’t think the shoulders are even supposed to be able to rotate that far.”
Sizhui smiles apologetically. “They’re not. You’re still too far down for me to get a better hold. I’ll try to be gentle, but you’re probably going to have to pull yourself up for the most part from here.”
Definitely easier said than done , Jin Ling thinks to himself. Jingyi had definitely made it look a lot easier than it actually was, though considering the recent revelations, he can’t say he’s particularly surprised.
By the time Jin Ling awkwardly shimmies himself up far enough to finally rest his elbows on the pier’s edge, Jingyi is struggling not to laugh. “You, uh, you sure you don’t want some help there?”
Jin Ling groans, slumping against his arms with a sigh of defeat. “Yeah. I guess a little help would be nice. Please.”
Jingyi hums, satisfied, as he shuffles on his knees to close the distance between them and proceeds to swiftly shove his hands under Jin Ling’s armpits. Jin Ling barely has time to protest before he’s effortlessly lifted out of the water like a misbehaving puppy and deposited next to Sizhui with an unceremonious plop , who barely manages to shuffle out of the way in time.
“Really, Jingyi? Was that necessary?” Sizhui whines, wringing the water from his sleeves.
Jingyi grins as he waddles towards him, throw a drenched arm around Sizhui’s shoulder despite his protests. “Sorry, Sizhui! I just couldn’t resist! It felt wrong for you to be the only one who wasn’t at least a little wet. At least we can wash our clothes together now though, right?”
Sizhui struggles halfheartedly in his grasp for a few seconds before giving up with a fond sigh. He turns to Jin Ling, expecting him to at least have some choice words about Jingyi’s antics as usual, only to find him seemingly unmoving from where Jingyi had originally dumped him on the deck.
The Lan disciples exchanged a worried look before Jingyi cautiously reached out to poke at his shoulder. “You okay, Jin Ling?
Jin Ling blinks in surprise, seemingly snapping out of a daze. “Huh? I’m fine. I’m great. Just still feeling a little dizzy, is all. Yeah.” He lies.
Jingyi gives him a strange look, but thankfully doesn’t call his bluff. “Okay, well, If you start feeling like you need to throw up again you’re going to have to hold it in for a while, because you sure as hell aren’t going anywhere near the water’s edge again tonight.”
To be fair, what he’d said wasn’t entirely untrue- he did feel lightheaded, still reeling from being manhandled out of the blue- picked up so easily like he literally weighed nothing, what the fuck- but that was far from the most pressing problem weighing on his mind, which was a little more …. physical, than that. Truthfully, he barely moves to get up when he feels a sickeningly familiar heat beginning to pool in the pit of his stomach that makes him freeze in place.
Surely, surely he isn’t going to…
For better or worse, Lan Jingyi at least seems to be completely oblivious to his predicament as he slides down besides him, the shit eating grin back on his face. “So, I think somebody owes me a thank you.”
It takes every ounce of self control in Jin Ling’s body not to flinch away at Jingyi’s sudden proximity, and he barely manages to keep his expression neutral as he tries to discreetly gather his waterlogged robes into a pile on his lap, just in case . “What a coincidence, I think you owe my butt an apology after that landing. I guess that makes us even.”
"Wow, I singlehandedly haul you back into the land of the living, and this is the repayment I get? Cold blooded – truly cold blooded! You wound me, Little Mistress.” Jingyi gasps, clutching at his chest for dramatic effect. “No, really, though, my shoulder is already starting to feel sore. I think I might have really pulled something, back there.”
“Serves you right for dropping me.”
“I didn’t mean to, okay! You were a lot heavier than I thought you’d be!”
Jin Ling opts to preoccupy himself with wringing the water out of his ruined robes with far more force than strictly necessary in a last ditch attempt at avoiding eye contact.
“Fine. I’ll pay for a new set of robes for you to replace the ones you ruined tonight. Final offer, take it or leave it.”
Jingyi huffs, finally relenting on their getting to his feet. “…. Huh. ‘Thanks for being a good friend’ would have sufficed, but if you’re offering then I’m certainly not going to complain.”
The rest of the short walk back to Jin Ling’s room passes fairly uneventfully. The warm summer air does an impressive job of drying their clothing, their robes slowly unsticking from their skin as they walked, much to Jin Ling’s relief. Out of sight, out of mind, after all.
Sizhui and Jingyi say their goodbyes at the door as they prepare to head back towards the guest quarters, instructing him to remember to drink plenty of water and try not to drown in a pool of his own vomit by morning, respectively. The temporary lucidity his spontaneous dip had granted him had long since begun to wear off into bone-deep exhaustion by the time he had managed to free himself from his ruined robes. He passes out almost as he collapses against the mattress, the void of sleep a welcome respite from the dramatic proceedings of the night, figuring that the stubborn vestiges of heat burning beneath your skin would be gone in the morning.
If only things could ever be that simple.