Work Text:
Jin Guangyao has had a trying day. The servant he fired for breaking a teapot cried at him; Jiang Cheng dropped by again, so he had to play the demure maternal caregiver at him all day around an extremely tantrumy Jin Ling; and to top it all off, he still can’t figure out how to kill his father without anyone pinning it on him, as the poison he’s been feeding him since the Sunshot Campaign clearly isn’t working. So when the familiar velvet footfalls of his favourite pet assassin drop down from the ceiling behind him in his workshop that evening, the breath he lets out is a little shakier than he’d like.
He closes his eyes, keeping his back to the demonic cultivator. “You do know you are permitted to use the front door.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Xue Yang’s voice is like a steel hook coated in blood. It’s beautiful.
Jin Guangyao glances down, turning halfway toward him. “You’re dripping blood on my floor,” he purrs. “Yours, or someone else’s?”
Xue Yang brings the corner of his sleeve up to his tongue appraisingly. “This one’s someone else’s.”
Jin Guangyao’s eyes snap up across Xue Yang’s soiled robe and slide back down. “Take that off.”
Xue Yang smirks, unties his belt with a sharp motion. “Whatever you say.” He keeps his eyes locked in Jin Guangyao’s as he strips down to an undershirt and pants. “Like what you see?”
There’s still a trickle of blood on his chin. Jin Guangyao smiles and turns his back to him again. “Tell me you have information for me.”
“Information.” He scoffs. “Yeah, I have information.”
Jin Guangyao’s shoulders loosen incrementally and his eyelids flutter closed. “You have identified the boy’s mother?”
“Nope.”
Jin Guangyao turns. “What do you mean, nope.”
Xue Yang gestures expansively, hip cocked. “There’s nothing. There’s nothing, boss. Lan Wangji has not been associated with one woman in his whole blessed life.” He seems angry about this. “Guy’s a virgin, for all I know.”
Jin Guangyao’s fingers curl into his palms. “That’s not possible.”
“You know I’m thorough,” Xue Yang says, inspecting his nails, idly picking at the dried blood there.
Jin Guangyao’s brows draw tight. “I saw how Zewu-jun looked at that boy. He’s Wangji’s son.”
Xue Yang hops up on the metal table and lets his legs dangle. “Look, the only whiff of scandal around the guy is his thing with the Yiling Patriarch. So unless you’re saying Wei Wuxian is the mother…”
Jin Guangyao's expression goes distant. “I wonder.”
Xue Yang’s legs stop. “What, really?” He pulls his legs up onto the table and stares. “That’s not possible, right?”
Jin Guangyao’s lips draw tight. “Of course not. But it might not matter.” He takes a breath. “What if Wei Wuxian is the father?”
“Mmm? Who's the mother, then?” Xue Yang lies down on his back, letting his head hang over the table’s edge.
“Who cares who the mother is?” Jin Guangyao snaps. “It could be anyone. You’ve seen the Yiling Patriarch, he hardly looked like he lived a virtuous life. He could have whelped the brat on any girl. But then he goes and gets himself tossed off a cliff, and so his lover, Hanguang-jun, adopts the boy in some… grand romantic gesture.”
“Huh.”
Jin Guangyao clenches his jaw, his voice getting quieter. “No, that can’t be right. We’re missing something.” He hates it. “Zewu-jun said the boy reminded him of his brother. He loves him; the boy is family. He wouldn’t be this reverent of Wei Wuxian’s get.”
Xue Yang’s upside-down face is darkening as the blood rushes to it. “Listen, you want me back out there, I go back out there. You know how I like to be thorough.” He grins like a knife.
Jin Guangyao draws in a long breath. He closes his eyes on the exhale. Puts on a placid smile. Blinks his eyes open. “No. No, that’s enough for now. Let’s see how the boy grows up.” He draws his shoulders back, posture settling. “I have other things to think about.”
Xue Yang backflips off the table and lands only a little unsteadily as all the blood rushes from his head. He gives Jin Guangyao a floppy grin. “You’re the boss.”
Jin Guangyao breathes easier. That’s right; he is. He turns an impeccable smile to his tousled little pet. Then he walks the few slow steps towards him, until their faces are a breath apart.
“You did well today, Xue Yang.” His fingers slip sweetly into the killer’s hair. “Would you like a reward?” Twisting his hand into the strands, he yanks down hard. His lips are against Xue Yang’s ear. “Or a punishment?”
Xue Yang looks at him sideways with his neck bent back, flush high, lips parted. “How about both?”
Jin Guangyao smiles.