Work Text:
Jiang Cheng is on the verge of a breakdown.
Jin Ling will not stop wailing, no matter how often Jiang Cheng picks him up, no matter how many times Jiang Cheng rocks him back and forth in his arms with gentle and soothing words of, "it's okay, A-ling" and "Jiujiu is here." He wails, and Jiang Cheng tries in vain to soothe him, and a clap of thunder shakes Lotus Pier like an angry god demanding quiet, and —
Jin Ling wails louder. He’s so tiny, barely a few months old, and yet his voice rises to the heavens above them as his little hands curl into fists, shaking with the ferocity of his crying.
If the corners of Jiang Cheng’s eyes burn, if his vision goes a little blurry, if his cheeks are wet for reasons other than the torrential downpour outside, Jiang Cheng pretends otherwise.
Normally, when Jiang Cheng is unable to comfort Jin Ling, he takes him to the shrine that's tucked away in a grove next to the lake, the one everyone seems to have forgotten about.
Jiang Cheng imagines it would have been spectacular in its prime. These days, the carvings on the shadow wall have been worn down, eroded away by years of abandonment, until the stone has become nearly smooth. The once majestic waves paying tribute to the god Shi Wudu have been reduced to mere seafoam.
It’s the only place that quiets Jin Ling and his incessant wailing, the only place that instills a sense of peace within them both.
The only reason Jiang Cheng hasn’t brought him there tonight is because it’s storming, the rain falling in unforgiving sheets, pounding against the roof and leaving the ground covered in a layer of frigid water. Jiang Cheng may be new to this… whole parenting thing, but he knows better than to take a baby out in weather like that.
And yet, he’s tempted. If it’ll get little Jin Ling to stop crying, if it’ll bring Jin Ling some semblance of relief.
...Perhaps he should go find an umbrella. And pack another change of robes for both himself and Jin Ling so that they don’t spend the night in the shrine all wet and miserable.
After making his decision, it takes a couple minutes to prepare everything, during which Jin Ling’s pitiful, heart-aching wails accompany the crashing thunder overhead.
And then Jiang Cheng steps out into the downpour, hunching his shoulders forward as he holds Jin Ling close to his chest and makes sure the umbrella stays secure overhead. He dashes through Lotus Pier, and ignores the way each step causes splashes of water to soak the bottom of his pants, ignores the creeping, wet cold of the rain sliding down his calves and into his boots.
It’s dark. Jiang Cheng battles through the storm, mud squelching underneath his boots with every step as the wind howls all around. Jin Ling’s crying grows steadily louder until his screeching reaches a crescendo, and Jiang Cheng prays to the gods that this works, prays that he hasn’t brought a baby into the freezing rain for nothing.
He prays and he holds Jin Ling close, closer, so close he wonders if Jin Ling can feel the way his heart is pounding, loud and angry and insistent against his chest, wonders if Jin Ling can tell he’s not cut out to take care of a child, wonders if Jin Ling will ever recall the night his uncle ran through a storm to try and calm him down.
Part of Jiang Cheng — a very large part — feels foolish. This is exactly why he’s not meant to be a parent, why A-jie and that bastard brother of his shouldn’t have left him alone, because he makes decisions like this, and —
He cuts those thoughts off before they can take root. And then he’s running up the stone steps to the entrance of the shrine, mentally asking for forgiveness for the rain and the mud and the disrespect of it all.
He steps out of the rain, holding Jin Ling tight, and breathes out a sigh of relief when Jin Ling’s crying subsides, replaced by a soft, confused hiccup. His lungs burn. His breath comes out in labored pants. Everything from the waist below is soaked, freezing cold down to his very bones, but at least Jin Ling is safe and dry and no longer about to pop a blood vessel from the sheer ferocity of his cries.
Jiang Cheng sets his pack down on the dusty stone, grateful it was saved from the rain as he digs through and makes a makeshift nest of blankets and extra robes for Jin Ling to rest upon while he changes into something dry.
He lays the wet robes flat against the ground and then heads back over to Jin Ling. He swaddles him carefully, then scoops him into his arms. Jin Ling yawns, his tiny nose scrunching, and smacks his lips together with an adorable baby sigh. Jiang Cheng ignores the way his eyes burn and go a little blurry as he stares down at the infant in his arms, as he stares at the eyes that look so much like A-jie’s, at his soft cheeks and fine eyelashes. It’s unfair, he thinks, how cruel the world was to take Jin Ling’s entire family away. It’s easier, in some way, to blame it on the world when it’s Jin Ling he’s thinking about.
It’s much, much harder to reconcile his brother’s betrayal when he remembers that the same cruel world took his entire family away, too.
Jiang Cheng sinks to the floor with a sigh of his own, gently rocking Jin Ling back to forth and whispering, “Jiujiu is here, A-ling, time to sleep.”
Rain cascades off of the shrine roof, a plethora of tiny waterfalls all desperate to reach the ground. The thunder and lightning have both stopped, though the storm continues to rage all around the shrine, wind howling through the trees.
Inside remains dry, though cold, and Jiang Cheng holds Jin Ling a little tighter, a little closer, before allowing his eyes to drift closed for the briefest of moments. Though he pretends otherwise, raising a child and building a sect from the ruins and wreckage of the past drain every last drop of energy from him.
It's all too easy to succumb to the siren call of sleep.
☆☆☆
Jiang Cheng wakes to the soft pitter patter of rain against stone steps. He comes to in a slow, gradual manner, consciousness returning to him like a flower blossom that had been lost upon a spring breeze, that had fallen onto the lake, left drifting and aimless, and had finally made its way ashore.
There’s a chill in the air that seeps through his robes and leaves him covered in goosebumps. He shivers. Stretches out a leg that had cramped up from sitting cross-legged all night. Wiggles his freezing fingers.
Wait.
Jin Ling.
Jiang Cheng's arms are empty and Jin Ling is not here. He swallows, and terror slides down his throat, down his spine, cold and unforgiving.
Jiang Cheng tends to pretend he doesn’t feel fear. He has to act strong, to put up a front like the leader he’s been forced to be. The truth of the matter, though, is that Jiang Cheng is always afraid.
He’s always afraid, but most of the time it’s manageable. This is the first time since Wei Wuxian’s death that fear has held a vice-like grip on his heart. The first time his lungs feel as though they’ve been filled with sludge water from the bottom of the lake, heavy and thick and he can’t breathe.
What would A-jie say? Would she put one hand on his shoulder, soft and comforting, while the other tilted his chin up and forced him to look into her understanding eyes?
He wishes the A-jie in his head would cry. He wishes the memory of her would blame him. He wishes she’d yell, and scream, and tell him he never should have been entrusted with Jin Ling.
Jiang Cheng shoves all thoughts of A-jie down, deep down, and looks around the shrine, frantic and desperate. He knows none of the guards or servants would dare take Jin Ling without explicit permission from him. Not unless they wanted broken legs and a thrashing from Zidian.
He scrambles to his feet. His breath comes out in harsh pants. He clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms. Outside, the rain falls in a slow but steady rhythm.
Jiang Cheng takes a step forward, and then abruptly stops. There’s a soft voice coming from down the steps, outside the shrine. Jiang Cheng’s entire body goes on high alert and his hand falls to his sword.
The voice is singing, but it’s in a tongue Jiang Cheng has never heard. Ancient and wistful. It resonates with Jiang Cheng in ways he can’t explain, ways he doesn’t want to think about. He steps forward.
Outside, in the early morning light, is a man. His elegant robes are a deep, dark blue, flowing like water down his lithe frame, and even though he’s standing out in the rain, he’s completely dry. Jiang Cheng squints before realizing there’s a shimmering barrier a couple feet above him that’s keeping the rain away.
Jin Ling is in his arms, cooing up at the stranger with wide eyes and soft cheeks. He gurgles happily, bundled up in soft blue fabric matching the stranger’s robes.
Zidian begins to spark from its home on Jiang Cheng’s finger.
“Who do you think you are?” Jiang Cheng snaps, stomping out of the shrine and toward the figure in blue.
The man taps Jin Ling’s nose with the tip of his finger, ignoring Jiang Cheng’s presence. Jin Ling babbles in response. Jiang Cheng’s hand curls around the hilt of Sandu, Zidian continuing to spark, but he does not draw his sword.
As long as this man holds Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng is powerless to do anything. He won’t risk hurting his nephew.
“I am Shi Wudu,” the man says, gaze still focused on Jin Ling. “I have come to answer your prayers.”