Work Text:
Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng thinks, looks exactly like his mother.
The kind slopes of his face, the thin corners of his lips, they are so inherently Jiang Yanli. It feels like a stab to his gut when he first holds his nephew after the events of Nightless City, cradling him close against his chest.
Lan Xichen is there, standing a little away and casting him long glances. Lan Wangji is beside him, brows pinched together and eyes very pointedly faced downward. The younger jade of Lan’s fists are clenched at his sides; Lan Xichen reaches out to him and places a gentle hand on his shoulder.
It seems to break something inside Lan Wangji.
His gaze—ice cold—bears directly into Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng meets it, his teeth involuntarily clenching.
Lan Wangji takes a step closer to him. “You.”
It’s said with such venom, such absolute dripping hatred. Jiang Cheng winces before he can help it. His arms tighten fruitlessly around Jin Ling.
Lan Wangji snarls, “You could have saved him.”
“Why would I save him?” Jiang Cheng says, immediately. “Why the hell would I save him?”
“He was your brother,” says Lan Wangji. If looks could kill, Jiang Cheng would be dead.
They were once allies. For a brief moment, Jiang Cheng recalls the time when he and Lan Wangji fought side by side, when they were tied together by a common goal: find Wei Wuxian.
The Sunshot Campaign seems lightyears away now.
“He betrayed us,” says Jiang Cheng.
“You betrayed him.”
“Excuse me—”
“He trusted you,” Lan Wangji spits.
Jiang Cheng is only acutely aware that he’s shaking. His jaw is clenched; his fingers are quivering violently. He thinks he might accidentally drop Jin Ling if this goes on.
Lan Xichen comes up behind Lan Wangji, taking him by the arm. “Wangji,” he says. He glances over to Jiang Cheng, frown painted on his delicate features. “Come. Let’s go home.”
“No,” says Lan Wangji, gaze hard and unmoving. Then, he turns on his heel, shaking his brother off of him. He walks away like that, and Jiang Cheng barely notices how Lan Xichen doesn’t do anything to stop him.
—
Lan Wangji makes a mess at the Burial Mounds.
“Ridiculous,” a minor sect’s leader chides at a conference a few weeks later. “Surely Elder Lan has taken care of it appropriately?”
All eyes turn to Lan Xichen, whose eyes are closed as he looks straight ahead. Jiang Cheng stares at him, something awful crawling in the depths of his chest. There are a few moments of silence, and when Lan Xichen finally speaks, his voice is low. A tinge of something sharp edges behind it.
“Thirty-three whips to his back,” he says. “Three years of forced seclusion.”
A murmur of approval courses around the room. Jiang Cheng’s fists clench.
The punishment is cruel, yes, but not entirely so. Three years of seclusion means time alone, undisturbed. Time to grieve without being forced into the disturbingly brutal realm of sect politics. It’s nothing compared to the punishment Jiang Cheng is subjected to—that is, living the rest of his life as Yunmeng Jiang’s leader without his family.
And thirty-three whips meant excruciating physical anguish, but combined with Lan Wangji’s inevitable mental suffering and time away from the rest of the world, it would only give him one extra excuse to having all the privacy he needs.
Privacy. It seems selfish to want something so mundane at a time like this.
Jiang Cheng grits his teeth and keeps his head down.
—
He is granted co-parenting rights with Jin Guangyao.
He doesn’t fight for them. He knows he has the right to see his nephew whenever he wants, regardless of whether or it’s as his legal guardian.
The first few times Jin Ling stays at Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng can’t bear to see him.
Jin Ling is clad in the soothing bright yellows of the Jin sect—an inherent reminder in it of itself of the child’s father. Thinking about Jin Zixuan is never a good thing. His thoughts always loop back around to Wei Wuxian, who would make fun of the peacock with Jiang Cheng, who would fight for their sister’s honor whenever she was faced with any kind of hardship in regards to her betrothal.
But Wei Wuxian is dead. So is Jin Zixuan.
So is Jiang Yanli.
The nightmares come irregularly. He wakes up in a pool of sweat, panting heavily. His fingers clutch the lavender sheets, and his eyes dart endlessly around the darkness of his bedchambers, looking for something, anything.
Yet when morning comes, he pieces himself together like nothing is amiss. He pulls on his royal purple robes, patting them down and gazing at his reflection. His brows are almost always pinched together nowadays, but relaxing them seems too resigned. It feels like giving up.
Jin Ling grows to look even more like Jiang Yanli. Jiang Cheng notices this with every passing day, his throat going painfully dry every time it comes to his attention. He can’t be angry with the child. He knows he can’t be angry with the child.
And yet.
“Jiujiu,” comes Jin Ling’s little voice. He’s tugging on Jiang Cheng’s robes. “Jiujiu.”
“What?” Jiang Cheng snaps, looking down at him.
Jin Ling immediately cowers back.
Jiang Cheng sighs. He lowers himself so that he’s balancing on his toes, his knees curled up and his thighs pressed against his chest. He looks at Jin Ling, lips tied together as he shakes his head. “What?” he asks again, voice a tad softer this time.
Jin Ling looks up at him, bottom lip quivering. “Jiujiu,” he says, “where’s my mom?”
Jiang Cheng’s heart sinks.
Jin Ling inches closer to him. “My dad? Jiujiu, the people at Koi Tower say I’m a… I’m a… I’m an orphan.”
Jiang Cheng’s gaze on him hardens. “You… A-Ling!”
Jin Ling makes a small noise, halfway between a whimper and a gasp.
“A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng says, teeth clenching, “you… how dare you let them say that to you?” He grabs Jin Ling’s hands, squeezing them tightly. “The next time someone says something like that to you, you walk away. Understood?”
“Jiujiu…”
“Understood?”
Jin Ling’s head drops. “Yes, Jiujiu.”
Jiang Cheng breathes deeply, closing his eyes in an effort to calm himself down. He thinks of his sister, who would surely know exactly what to say to comfort her son. Jiang Yanli would know how to gently take Jin Ling into her arms, bring him close to her, wipe away his tears and kiss his sorrows away.
But Jiang Cheng is not Jiang Yanli. Jiang Cheng will never be Jiang Yanli. Jiang Cheng is not even Jin Zixuan, who would have been ten times a better father to Jin Ling than Jiang Cheng could ever be.
Jiang Yanli, who cared for Jiang Cheng so very deeply, who gave him the love and affection that their mother could never provide. Jiang Yanli, with the purest heart a human being could hold. Jiang Cheng’s beloved sister. Wei Wuxian’s beautiful Shijie.
Jiang Yanli, who despite everything, could never blame Wei Wuxian for what he did.
“A-Cheng,” she had said, Jin Ling cradled in her arms as Jiang Cheng shook with rage beside her. “A-Cheng, it isn’t A-Xian’s fault.”
Jiang Cheng, who had been so angry, had slammed his fist into the wall. “A-Jie,” he had spat, “he killed your husband. He killed Jin Zixuan. His stupid puppet killed A-Ling’s father, A-Jie, he—”
“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli had said, lifting her hand to gently run her fingers down the side of his face. There had been tears pooling at the corners of her eyes, grief and anguish present and clear as day. “I don’t blame him for any of this. I know my A-Xian, and you know him too.”
But she had been wrong, hadn’t she? Jiang Cheng only thought he knew Wei Wuxian. The Wei Wuxian he grew up with would never betray him like he had—he never would have gone against the Jiang sect in favor of the very people who caused their eternal heartache. Wei Wuxian was the one who Jiang Cheng’s father favored, after all. He was the one who apparently knew how to hold the sect’s ideals and morals to heart. It had never been Jiang Cheng in Jiang Fengmian’s eyes.
But in the end, hadn’t it been him who upheld Yunmeng Jiang’s name? Hadn’t it been Jiang Cheng who carried the sect with him to the very end?
He wonders if his father would be proud of him now.
He doubts it.
—
Jiang Cheng never gets another dog.
Even after Jin Guangyao gifts Jin Ling with Fairy, Jiang Cheng never even begins to entertain the possibility of getting one for himself, too.
A-Jie,
is he with you now?
Take care of him,
I never could.
—
Five years after Wei Wuxian’s death, Jiang Cheng comes face to face with Lan Wangji again.
Lan Wangji has been out of seclusion for two years now, but he still barely moves. Jiang Cheng wonders if the scars on his back from the whips have healed. He wonders if they will ever heal completely.
He’s in Gusu for business. Nothing more. It isn’t in his itinerary to bump into Second Master Lan in the courtyard of the Cloud Recesses. He’s on his way to speak with Lan Xichen. Running into Lan Wangji is an unhappy coincidence.
He doesn’t expect to be acknowledged, and yet.
“Sect Leader Jiang.”
Jiang Cheng halts, spine chilling. He looks over to Lan Wangji, who is standing with an arm at his back. His eyes bear into Jiang Cheng’s own, and the latter finds that he can’t read them.
Not like he ever could. Not like Wei Wuxian could.
“Hanguang-jun,” he says, bowing merely out of respect. Lan Wangji returns it, gaze never faltering away. Before Jiang Cheng can help it, he says, “I see you have made it out of seclusion unharmed.”
Lan Wangji doesn’t react. It’s absolutely unnerving.
Jiang Cheng’s left eyebrow twitches. “I am here to speak with Zewu-jun.”
Again, Lan Wangji remains silent. His eyes rake over Jiang Cheng’s form, and it takes everything in him to remain upright. Then, Lan Wangji looks away, bleak and distant. Jiang Cheng takes this as his cue to leave, and he quickly slides past without another word.
Jiang Cheng isn’t stupid. There’s no one else in the world who had called Wei Wuxian by his given name. No one referred to him as anything other than his courtesy name, or, later, as the Yiling Patriarch. Even to Jiang Yanli, who thought of him as nothing less than her own brother, he was never A-Ying. He was Wuxian. A-Xian. Wei Wuxian. Xianxian.
Jiang Cheng, who had known Wei Wuxian for the better part of his life, who sent away his precious puppies for the sake of his brother, had never managed to utter the words Wei Ying. Never. Not once.
Yet, still, after knowing each other for barely five days, Wei Wuxian was Wei Ying to Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji was Lan Zhan to Wei Wuxian.
So, no, Jiang Cheng isn’t stupid. He has eyes. He knows. Wei Wuxian was his brother, the only person closest to him aside from his older sister. Jiang Cheng has never been anything more to Lan Wangji than simply acquaintances, and once allies during the Sunshot Campaign, but he would be a fool not to notice the way the two of them would look at each other. The way Lan Wangji would look at his brother.
Jiang Cheng can’t help but wonder what took place during Lan Wangji’s three years of seclusion. He doesn’t want to know—not really—but there’s still a tingling curiosity residing in the back of his mind.
“Sect Leader Jiang,” says Lan Xichen as they greet each other. “Do you know why I have requested for your presence today?”
Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen. He shakes his head.
“Today,” Lan Xichen says, “the young disciples of the Lan sect will be bestowed with their forehead ribbons and courtesy names.”
Why am I here? Jiang Cheng thinks to himself. He doesn’t dare speak his thoughts aloud. Lan Xichen is nothing but rational when it comes to sect politics. If he wants the leader of Yunmeng Jiang to be here on this kind of day, there must be a reason.
An hour later, Jiang Cheng accompanies Lan Xichen to the front courtyard, where a long line of young men in white stand in position. They look slightly alarmed upon seeing Jiang Cheng, but bow respectfully to him anyways.
Gusu Lan, Jiang Cheng thinks bitterly, always the charmers.
There are two young boys standing in the front of the line, and they’re the ones that catch Jiang Cheng’s attention. The boy to the left is whispering relentlessly to the boy to the right. The boy to the right is staring straight ahead, his cheeks puffed out in obvious concentration.
Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen when he senses a faint flicker of recognition. His eyes find Lan Xichen, who is already staring back at him with an expectant look.
Jiang Cheng feels something hot simmering in his chest.
Lan Wangji appears, and the disciples immediately sink back into their bows. Jiang Cheng knows the practice of giving courtesy names—he knows that Lan Wangji, as the disciples’ teacher, will give a name to any child whose parents cannot make it.
He also knows that the members of the sect who are directly related to the Lan bloodline will get theirs first.
Jiang Cheng inhales sharply when he sees Lan Wangji walk up to the boy in the front. The boy bows, his eyes closing as Lan Wangji takes a white ribbon, embroidered to perfection, and threads it between his fingers. Lan Wangji ties the strip of fabric around the child’s forehead, then takes a step back.
“Lan Yuan,” he says, and Jiang Cheng’s ears burn, “courtesy name Sizhui.”
Lan Yuan. No… shouldn’t it be…
A-Yuan?
Jiang Cheng manages to stop himself from stumbling back. Wen, he thinks. Wen Yuan.
Wei Wuxian’s A-Yuan.
Jiang Cheng felt something heavy on his legs. He looked down, finding a small child had crept up to him and was unabashedly hanging off of his calf. The child raised his chin, his dark, round eyes looking up at him.
Jiang Cheng scrunched his nose in disgust, and turned to Wei Wuxian. “Where did this kid come from? Get him away from me.”
Wei Wuxian bent down and scooped the child into his arms. “What do you mean, get him away? Can’t you be nice? A-Yuan, why do you hug the leg of everyone you meet? Off you go! Don’t bite your nails when you play in the mud, okay? Move your hand! Don’t touch my face, A-Yuan! Ahahaha! Where’s your granny, eh?”
It feels like a distant memory now.
He looks away from the scene in front of him, biting his lip down till it's bruised and bleeding.
If Lan Xichen sees, he doesn’t comment on it.
—
“Why did you ask me to come here?”
“I thought you should see him.”
“Who?”
“Your nephew.”
“He’s—he’s not my nephew. He’ll never call me his uncle. He’s nothing to me.”
“But he was everything to Wei-gongzi.”
“Shut—shut up—no, I—”
“Sect Leader Jiang. Are you—”
“Lan Wangji took him in? Lan Wangji took him in? He’s a Wen. He could destroy you. Your sect. I don’t understand, why would you protect a Wen?”
“Wangji loved Wei-gongzi, Sect Leader Jiang, just as you did.”
—
“Anyone who uses the remnants of Wei Wuxian’s cultivation should be tortured. Anyone who displays anything in relation to the Yiling Patriarch should be brought here, to Yunmeng, to be taken care of.”
“Yes, Sect Leader Jiang!”
—
A-Jie, A-Jie… what has this world become?
A-Jie,
is he really gone?
—
Lan Wangji is holding onto someone.
It takes a moment—several moments—for Jiang Cheng to truly comprehend just how strange this is. He pushes the thought aside, focusing entirely on Jin Ling.
“What trouble did you get yourself into this time?” he scowls. “Don’t pretend to be brave. Come back here right now!”
Jin Ling does. His head is bowed in front of him. “You told me to catch it,” he mutters.
“Don’t talk back to me!” Jiang Cheng’s eyes roam over to the Lan disciples, expression tightening when he sees Sizhui and Jingyi leading the pack. He scowls. “What happened here?”
“It’s Wen Ning!” says someone in the crowd.
Jiang Cheng’s blood runs cold.
“Wen Ning?”
“Wen Ning is back!”
“Nonsense!” Jiang Cheng hisses, taking a step forward.
“It’s true! I saw him with my own eyes! I wouldn’t be mistaken!”
“Impossible. He was executed thirteen years ago,” Jiang Cheng snarls, ignoring the goosebumps beginning to make their presence very known on his arms.
“He called Wen Ning out!”
Jiang Cheng follows the pointed finger, his eyes landing on the figure of a man—the same person Lan Wangji is still tightly holding on to.
There are many emotions that pass through Jiang Cheng at that very moment.
He’s looked far and wide for Wei Wuxian. He’s tracked down every single small-scale cultivator who used the tricks of the Yiling Patriarch. He knows that none of those people were Wei Wuxian. Not with the way they would scream for their lives and beg for mercy.
However, Jiang Cheng knows immediately who this is. He feels Zidian beginning to crackle at his fingertips.
He walks forward, eyes never leaving the man.
“You’re back.”
—
Oh, you’ll never guess what happened last night! Sect Leader Jiang went practically insane, asking everyone if they can unsheathe Wei Wuxian’s sword!
Jiang Cheng stares down at Zidian, the weapon slinking around his slim finger. Suibian is sitting in the corner of the room, alone and long forgotten.
Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. His gaze darkens uncontrollably as he stares down at his mother’s last gift to him. Zidian, who could be controlled by Yu Ziyuan, Jiang Fengmian, and now… him. He had granted Jin Ling permission to Zidian long ago as well, though he doubts his nephew truly understands the weight behind it.
“Why—why is it me. Why is it me? What do you mean? What do you mean it recognizes me as Wei Wuxian? How can that be? How can it—”
“Because the golden core running your spiritual power… is his.”
Jiang Cheng drops to his knees, Sandu clattering onto the floor next to him. He brings his hands into his face, barely registering the violent shivering of his entire body.
Tears. There should be tears. Why aren’t there tears? Why isn’t he crying? Why isn’t he crying? Why can’t he stop shaking? Why is this so—
Damn you, Wei Wuxian.
Jiang Cheng should hate him, shouldn’t he? He should hate Wei Wuxian and everything he stands for. He should despise Wei Wuxian to his utter core—no, he can’t even say that anymore. It isn’t his core. Fuck. Fuck.
He should hate him. Wei Wuxian, who brought nothing but sadness and demise to his life. Wei Wuxian, whose actions killed his entire family. His mother, his father, his sister, his brother-in-law. Wei Wuxian, who died for the good of everyone else, who came back like it was nothing. Wei Wuxian, who returned his sacrifice with a sacrifice of his own.
Wei Wuxian, his once-brother who he had loved so, so much.
Wei Wuxian, who had dared to show up in the Jiang family ancestral hall and bow to Jiang Cheng’s parents and sister, with Lan Wangji.
Jiang Cheng is furious with him. He’s furious with himself. How hadn’t he seen it? Wei Wuxian, no matter who he was in his previous life—in this life—he would never purposely try to bring the reputation of their sect down. He’d stopped carrying his sword. God, Jiang Cheng should have known. He should have known. Did he enjoy being reprimanded for his actions? Of course he didn’t.
Jiang Cheng is so stupid.
He should hate him. How dare he give Jiang Cheng his golden core? How dare he listen to Jiang Cheng’s constant fears about never being good enough—about never being able to recover from the loss of his core—and go ahead and pull this shit. How dare he not tell him?
Wei Wuxian, that self-sacrificing little prick.
Wei Wuxian, his lovely, lovely older brother.
Jiang Cheng lets go of his hold on his face, tipping his head upward and releasing a single, earth-shattering scream.
And then, the tears finally come.
Damn you, Wei Wuxian.
How dare you, Wei Wuxian?
A-Jie,
is this what you meant?
Jiang Cheng knows—he knows that if he were in Wei Wuxian’s position, he wouldn’t have been able to do it. Or, at least, not back then, when he was a teenager. Maybe if it were now, he’d be able to have the courage to give up his golden core for someone else. His golden core. Not Wei Wuxian’s.
He would never give anyone Wei Wuxian’s. Not now. Not ever.
But his brother had gone through with it. Wen Qing had gone through with it. Wei Wuxian had managed to convince the prickly Wen doctor to perform such risky surgery on him.
Jiang Cheng wonders what the chances were. He wonders what exactly Wei Wuxian had put himself through to complete the transfer.
He doesn’t want to know.
Staring down at Zidian, he clenches his fist. His eyes narrow on the pristine crystal, images of his mother flooding back to him. Mother, he thinks soundly, I hope you don’t mind, but I have to do this.
He should hate him.
He should.
But he can’t.
He wonders if Wei Wuxian will ever be able to find out that now he too can command the purple lightning.
—
Wei Wuxian informs no one but Lan Wangji of his travel plans.
It should not bother Jiang Cheng as much as it does.
After all, what has Jiang Cheng been to Wei Wuxian in his second life, other than an annoying thing at his side? What has Jiang Cheng done to deserve Wei Wuxian telling him where he wants to take his life next?
Jiang Cheng hears it directly from Lan Wangji. His Excellency, now, because of course. Of course.
“What?” he snaps, eyes narrowing. “Wei Wuxian went where?”
“Wei Ying will be back soon,” says Lan Wangji.
Jiang Cheng glowers dangerously at him. “Did you actually just let him leave like that? After everything?”
Lan Wangji looks visibly startled by this. It sends a chill of something horribly close to satisfaction running through Jiang Cheng’s spine.
“Wei Ying is not obliged to stay anywhere he does not wish to,” says Lan Wangji. “Neither I nor Sect Leader Jiang can hold him down.”
And that’s—that angers Jiang Cheng, just a little.
Still.
“Fine,” he spits out. “Write to me when he comes back.”
Because he knows that Wei Wuxian won’t visit Lotus Pier upon his return. He’ll go straight to Gusu, to the Cloud Recesses, to Lan Wangji. He won’t come to Yunmeng. He won’t come to Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian will always choose Lan Wangji over him. There’s nothing he can do to change that.
—
Jiang Cheng wonders what the ugly feeling inside of him directed toward Lan Wangji is.
He’s never been truly fond of the second jade of Lan. He doesn’t know why, because as children, Lan Wangji had been exactly what every young cultivator in their generation aspired to be. Jiang Cheng did admire him at one point in his life, maybe. Before the two of them actually met, perhaps.
But then.
“Oh, Lan Zhan told me about this recently!”
“Jiang Cheng, look at Lan Zhan!”
“What? Of course I don’t enjoy my time with Lan Zhan in the library. It’s so brutal, Jiang Cheng! Lan Zhan is so mean to me!”
“Jiang Cheng, don’t be so uptight! See? Even Lan Zhan knows how to smile! Hey—hey! Lan Zhan, smile again! Aw, c’mon!”
Envy.
Jiang Cheng has no right to be jealous of Lan Wangji. After all, Lan Wangji had never left Wei Wuxian’s side after the Sunshot Campaign. He had tried to save him at Nightless City.
And Jiang Cheng had…
No.
He won’t think about that. He doesn’t want to think about that.
It just hurts. Sometimes. Jiang Cheng blames no one but himself.
He can’t find anyone else to blame, after all. He doesn’t have it in himself.
He just prays that maybe, maybe, one day he’ll be able to get even a fraction of his brother back. A fraction of the whole belonging to Lan Wangji.
—
Sect Leader Jiang Wanyin,
The Lan disciples had invited Sect Leader Jin Rulan to a night hunt. Jin Rulan seems to have lost his spiritual power for an extended period of time during the hunt and can therefore not make it back to Lanling by sword. He has requested for you to come pick him up.
Wei Ying returned five nights ago.
Sincerely,
Lan Wangji
Jiang Cheng rolls the letter up and chucks it across the room.
He scoffs, because he knows.
He knows that Lan Wangji wouldn’t have informed him of Wei Wuxian’s return so soon if it weren’t for Jin Ling’s little accident.
—
“You just can’t ever not get yourself into trouble, can you?” Jiang Cheng chides as he approaches his nephew. Jin Ling hangs his head, his grip around his sword tightening. The Gusu Lan disciples are lined up behind him, and they bow respectfully upon seeing Jiang Cheng entering the Cloud Recesses.
“Sorry, Jiujiu,” says Jin Ling. “But it wasn’t my fault! The ghoul we were fighting, it—”
“You should have been able to handle it,” says Jiang Cheng, eyes narrowing.
Jin Ling crosses his arms and looks away.
“Sect Leader Jiang,” a voice from a little afar says. Jiang Cheng blinks, eyes meeting the familiar brown ones of none other than Lan Sizhui. “Jin Ling was a great help today, please don’t be too harsh on him.” His smile is polite—brilliantly so. It reminds Jiang Cheng of Wei Wuxian, strangely.
He says nothing.
“Jiang Cheng!”
Ah. There it is.
Jiang Cheng turns to see Wei Wuxian walking over to him, hand raised in greeting. Lan Wangji is striding confidently by his side, gaze sharp and calculating. Jiang Cheng has learned to not fear it over the years.
After all, what could Lan Wangji do to make his life more miserable than it already is? What more could he do?
The two stop in front of him, bowing lightly. Jiang Cheng almost blanches. Wei Wuxian never bows to him.
It’s jarring. Jiang Cheng reminds himself that if he doesn’t get his act together soon, he might have to start getting used to it.
“Wei Wuxian,” he says, pressing his lips into a thin line. He ignores the way Lan Wangji steps half in front of him defensively. “You know the way to Yunmeng. Why didn’t you give A-Ling a ride to Lotus Pier?”
Of course, he knows why. He still wants to hear Wei Wuxian say it.
Wei Wuxian glances over to Jin Ling and relaxes his shoulders. He reaches out, fluffing up Jin Ling’s hair and ignoring the scowl he gets in return.
“I know not to overextend my liberties,” Wei Wuxian says. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep away from Lotus Pier.”
And that—that’s not what Jiang Cheng had been expecting. He had been expecting Wei Wuxian to say something about his new golden core not being up for the spiritual challenge of riding a sword just yet. He hadn’t been… what?
“What.”
Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“What do you mean, overextend your liberties?”
There’s a tense silence around the courtyard.
“Jiang Cheng, I—”
“Do you seriously think of yourself so highly?” Jiang Cheng asks. Wei Wuxian freezes. “Do you think you’re above coming to Lotus Pier? After everything, Wei Wuxian? Is that why you haven’t come by yet?”
Wei Wuxian stares at him, lips parting in obvious surprise. Lan Wangji pinches his eyebrows in barely-visible worry, looking over to his… honestly, what are Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian at this moment in time? He wants to know, but what right does he have to ask?
“Don’t be an idiot,” Jiang Cheng snaps instead.
Wei Wuxian inhales sharply, clearly audible over the silence of the tender Gusu night.
Then, he smiles. “Alright.”
Jiang Cheng glares at him. “Alright?” he repeats.
Wei Wuxian nods. “Alright. I’ll come by Lotus Pier, then.”
Oh.
Jiang Cheng’s throat is parched dry. He gulps, eyes darting away for a fraction of a second. Then, he grabs Jin Ling by the arm, his nephew yelping from the sudden harshness of the grip. He glares down at him, unsheathing Sandu and stepping on.
He casts one final, long look at Wei Wuxian, before dragging Jin Ling onto his sword with him and flying away.
—
Wei Wuxian is standing in front of the gates to Lotus Pier.
Jiang Cheng blinks rapidly at the sight, something hot curling in his chest. Wei Wuxian grins cheekily, tilting his head to the side and offering him a friendly wave.
Jiang Cheng breaks out into a scowl. “Why are you here?”
“Eh?” Wei Wuxian mocks a shocked gasp. “Is that any way to treat your guest, Jiang Cheng?”
Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrow on his small figure. He’s just barely getting used to looking at Mo Xuanyu’s body. “I wasn’t expecting a visit from you today.”
Wei Wuxian sighs deeply, rolling back on the balls of his feet. “It took me days to convince Lan Zhan to let me come here.”
Of course it had. There’s no way Lan Wangji would let his beloved Wei Ying go anywhere near Jiang Cheng. Honestly, Jiang Cheng is just surprised that Wei Wuxian is here alone.
So, “And where is the prestigious Hanguang-jun?”
Wei Wuxian pouts. “Lan Zhan was called away on official Chief Cultivator business.” He waves his hand in front of his face. “You know how it is.” Jiang Cheng doesn’t. “Anyways, can I come in?”
“When have you ever asked?”
“Hm! You make a fair point.”
They walk through the halls of Lotus Pier in silence, Wei Wuxian twirling that stupid flute of his through his fingers. Jiang Cheng’s thumb automatically moves to rub against Zidian, a flash of familiar warmth running through to the tips of his toes.
A disciple comes to greet them, halting in front of the two with a bow.
“Prepare Wei Wuxian’s room for him,” Jiang Cheng says, and the disciple quickly nods affirmatively before scurrying away. Jiang Cheng twists his lips into a displeased frown, glancing back over his shoulder to see Wei Wuxian gazing at him incredulously? “What?” he snaps.
Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “Nothing, it’s just…” He smiles that dumb smile of his. “I didn’t expect you to still keep my room vacant.”
Jiang Cheng scoffs. “Who else would want to use it?”
“Mm.”
They walk into one of the sitting rooms, Wei Wuxian immediately hopping over to sit at the table. He crosses his legs beneath him, straightening up and quickly gesturing to the seat across from him. Jiang Cheng eyes him suspiciously, then moves to sit down. There’s a jar of liquor on the table, and Wei Wuxian picks out two clay glasses and begins to pour them both drinks.
Jiang Cheng reluctantly accepts his cup, but doesn’t take a sip right away.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
He ignores how it was him who asked Wei Wuxian to come.
Or, well, not ask, per se.
Wei Wuxian licks his lips, tapping his now-empty cup against his temple. “Jiang Cheng,” he says, “how do you think Gusu robes would look on me?”
Jiang Cheng pauses. “What?”
“Gusu robes,” Wei Wuxian repeats, taking the jug of alcohol into his grasp again and pouring himself another cup. “How do you think they’d look on me? Do you remember when we were students at the Cloud Recesses and we’d wear them?” He hums thoughtfully. “I’ve always thought white suits me. What do you think?”
Something clicks in Jiang Cheng’s brain. “You’re fucking marrying him, aren’t you.”
It’s not a question. It’s not supposed to be a question.
Wei Wuxian’s eyes go wide. “What? Oh, no. Oh—goodness, no!” Then, he smirks. “Not yet, at least.”
“Disgusting. Why are you here?”
Wei Wuxian hums, stroking his chin. He stares back at Jiang Cheng, who blinks under the scrutiny. Then, Wei Wuxian springs to his feet, lazily smiling down at him. “Finish your drink. Let’s go for a walk.”
Jiang Cheng does not finish his drink.
They wander outside, all the way over the pier. It brings back a swooping rush of memories, some painful and others not. Wei Wuxian settles down at the edge and Jiang Cheng follows soon after, their feet dangling above the clear Yunmeng waters.
“Eh, Jiang Cheng.”
Jiang Cheng leans against his arms, looking down at the lotuses in the water. They’re beautifully pink this time of year. “What is it?”
“Did you know about A-Yuan?”
Jiang Cheng looks over, shooting him an alarmed look. “What?”
“Lan Sizhui,” Wei Wuxian clarifies, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t manage to tell him that there’s no need for that. “The disciple of Gusu Lan. Lan Zhan’s favored. His…” He swallows, trailing off.
Jiang Cheng furrows his brows. “Zewu-jun invited me to his inauguration.”
Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen comically. “What?”
“He was still young back then,” Jiang Cheng continues, ignoring him. “Of course I recognized him. I’d be an idiot not to. He has Wen Qing’s eyes.”
Wei Wuxian looks startled. Then, his facial features melt back comfortably. “He does,” he says with a nod. “You… you knew he’s a Wen.”
Jiang Cheng’s nose flares in sudden anger. “Do you seriously think I’d do something?”
“No.” Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “Of course not. I just… you seem to have remained impartial to him. It’s just… weird, I guess.” He leans forward, resting his jaw on his palm and his elbow on his knee. “Ah, Jiang Cheng, we really have grown up, haven’t we?”
I don’t know, have we?
“Why did you ask me about the robes?”
Wei Wuxian blinks. “Huh?”
“The robes,” Jiang Cheng manages to force out. “The Gusu robes. If you’re not planning on marrying Lan Wangji, then…?”
“Oh, I am,” Wei Wuxian says immediately. “I’ll spend the rest of my life with him, marriage in place or not. I can’t leave him again, A-Cheng. I won’t make him go through that a second time.”
Jiang Cheng swallows down the bitter taste in his mouth. He looks away. “Hm.”
He doesn’t comment on Wei Wuxian calling him A-Cheng.
“I’ve been debating whether or not to wear the Gusu robes, though,” Wei Wuxian says, leaning back on the balls of his hands. “Hmm. Once I marry Lan Zhan, then I guess I’ll be a member of the Lan sect.” He puffs his cheeks out and grins. “It’s been a while since I’ve been a part of an actual sect, huh? I suppose my rogue cultivator days are coming to a tragic end. Can you believe I’ll end up actually joining Gusu Lan? Remember when you used to joke about that when we were kids?”
His tone is kept deliberately light, but Jiang Cheng still feels an overwhelming sense of guilt upon hearing his words.
Forcing down every last bit of his remaining ego, he turns in his spot so that he’s facing him fully. “Wei Wuxian.” His eyes are dark and focused, sharpening on Wei Wuxian’s relaxed posture. “You know you’re always welcome here.”
Wei Wuxian’s head immediately turns to him. “Jiang Cheng?”
“But maybe… maybe it would be better to keep that husband of yours away,” Jiang Cheng says, biting his lip ruefully, “at least for a little while. I don’t think he’s really fond of me.”
“He’s not,” says Wei Wuxian.
Jiang Cheng huffs. “Right, well. I hope he knows the feeling is completely mutual.”
“I’ll let him know,” nods Wei Wuxian.
Jiang Cheng shoots him a withering look. “You…!”
“Me?” Wei Wuxian repeats, blinking innocently.
“Don’t make me take my generous hospitality back!”
“Generous hospitality?” Wei Wuxian blinks. “If I remember correctly, my dear little Jiang Cheng, when I arrived here you didn’t even greet me properly! All you did was show me that dumb face of yours and then ask me why I was here. Even when you’re the one who asked me to come!”
“I did no such thing.”
“There’s a silver lining,” says Wei Wuxian.
“I just didn’t expect you to come so soon,” says Jiang Cheng. “You didn’t even send a letter in advance. How was I supposed to know you were coming?”
“Oh?” says Wei Wuxian. “Then, should I leave?” He’s smiling wickedly at him, a familiar expression on an unfamiliar face. It takes everything in Jiang Cheng not to scowl in return.
“No,” he says instead.
Wei Wuxian stares at him for a long time. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
They look at each other, the corners of Wei Wuxian’s mouth beginning to quiver. Jiang Cheng’s lips quirk up on their own before he can help it, and soon, they’re smiling.
It’s the first time Jiang Cheng has smiled in a while. It feels foreign on his cheeks, but not uncomfortably so.
“Do you want soup?”
Wei Wuxian blinks up at him, cheeks coloring. His grin widens. “Lotus root and rib soup?”
“I’ve been working on perfecting A-Jie’s recipe,” says Jiang Cheng. “For A-Ling.”
“Mm,” Wei Wuxian hums, “the kid should definitely try Shijie’s famous soup. Do you want help preparing it?”
And Jiang Cheng, despite himself, despite everything, nods.
“Let’s go, then.”
.
.
.
A-Jie,
if you could see us now, would you be happy?