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When Jin Ling thinks of the happiest moments of his childhood, he thinks of summers in Yunmeng. 

Lotus Pier is not so much a structure surrounded by the low mountains and the water of Yunmeng’s lakes, but rather an airy, floating construction of wood and vines built into a natural lake. It is a network of stubborn bridges and strips of land and islets cobbled together into the most breathtaking place Jin Ling has ever seen in his life. And, having been born in the luxury of the Lanling Jin Sect, Jin Ling thinks he has seen a lot of breathtaking, beautiful things.  

Jin Ling cannot imagine a time when Lotus Pier was not Lotus Pier. It seems as if the structure has been here forever, a part of the natural landscape, although he has been told that, for just a few short years before his birth, Lotus Pier was a sacked ruin during the war that took his parents’ lives. The rebuilding effort afterwards, he was told, was an arduous labor of love and vengeance by his uncle. From the way the wooden columns supporting the expansive corridors of Lotus Pier shine as if oiled for hundreds of years by Yunmeng Jiang disciples, Jin Ling thinks that this is where all the love his uncle has to give has gone into, so much so that wood fuses with bone, water with blood. 

He does not get to spend a lot of time with his jiujiu at Lotus Pier. As heir presumptive of the Lanling Jin Sect, Jin Ling is expected to train in yellow suits and reside in Koi Tower, to obey Jin Sect rules and exemplify the opulence and power of the Peony Tribe. And all this, Jin Ling does, and he does it well. He breathes luxury as easily as air, thrives in the splendor of Koi Tower, and admires his shushu Jin Guangyao’s subtle wielding of power. And he has had a wonderful childhood in Lanling, raised with imposing yet elegant edifices of glass and steel that dare to scrape the sky, gilded and brocaded according to his uncle’s impeccable taste. 

But he always feels like he can breathe just a touch more easily at Lotus Pier, with the water and plants a shield against encroaching modernity. It may be that he only has so much time here in his mother’s native home. It may be that despite all of his jiujiu’s barks and occasional bites, he feels safest here, grounded by the natural materials making up Lotus Pier, grounded by the water that nourishes this side of his family.

News of the quarantine came when Jin Ling was already visiting jiujiu for a quick weekend trip. The look on his jiujiu’s face was one that Jin Ling will take a long time to forget, alternating between the excitement of spending more time with Jin Ling than has been expected, and a warring mix of anger and uncertainty as Jiang Cheng looked over to his esteemed guest Nie Huaisang, only brother and heir apparent of the Qinghe Nie Sect, currently at Yunmeng on business. Nie Huaisang, for his part, only tittered something unintelligible behind the fan covering half his face.

Jin Ling thought then that this would be quite an interesting stay for all involved, given by how jiujiu’s ears were already turning red with anger at something Nie Huaisang said. 

Evenings in Lotus Pier are quiet, even before the quarantine sent all disciples and servants back to their homes. Beyond the raucous activities at the training barracks, which are situated at the outer perimeter of Lotus Pier, the whole compound swells with the calm breezes that ruffle at the ever-vibrant lotus blooms. A soft fragrance perfumes the air. The relative laxity of the Yunmeng Jiang, as compared to the strict regimen of Gusu Lan or the formality of Lanling Jin, allows for late-night strolls around the premises with relatively little fuss, and Jin Ling is only too content to partake whenever he finds himself in Yunmeng.

The lockdown has changed little about that. Yunmeng is relatively removed from the epidemic center, but his jiujiu has insisted on following the decreed lockdown to prevent any potential mishap that would result from inaction. Jin Ling can only agree, and parts of him are rather pleased to be able to stay with jiujiu for a while longer at Lotus Pier. His private tutors in Lanling have been notified, and online lessons will start in a few days to allow for some time to adapt the materials for video lessons. Jin Ling is privately quite pleased that he will not have to participate in swordsmanship training with the young Jin boys; in this arena, his jiujiu is only too glad to take over. With a small pang of regret, he thinks of his upcoming planned trip to Gusu and the three months of visiting training at the Cloud Recesses, and his lips tighten. He thinks of Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi, and the possibility of Ouyang Zizhen joining in if Zizhen’s father would finally relent, and finds himself admitting that perhaps, just a little bit, he is missing his friends and already mourning the time they will have lost.

With most people sent away from Lotus Pier, it also means that movement within the compound itself is relatively unrestricted for the very few inhabitants there. Jin Ling’s mother’s side of the family tree is sparse, and his jiujiu still, as of now, refuses to take a wife. Jin Ling thinks of Senior Wei, practically his uncle in all but blood, and how he is already happily married, and wishes that jiujiu would follow in the footsteps of his adopted brother. Jin Ling thinks it would be very nice to have younger cousins to whom he can be a mentor. His only cousin, his shushu’s son, who was of an age with Jin Ling, died when he was very young. He wonders what a child born of Jiang Cheng would be like, whether he or she would inherit the infamous temper of the Violet Spider and Sandu Shengshou. He would like to think that he himself has inherited it, to be respected and feared as his uncle and grandmother, spoken of in awe of their power, but Jin Ling thinks his anger is mere thunder without the force of lightning accompanying it. 

His feet bring him to the center of the floating maze of Lotus Pier. Here lies a shrine in the shape of an unfurling lotus bloom supported by a single large column rising from the water, where the tablets of his ancestors’ names—his mother’s name—lie in a spiral toward the sky. It is his family tree. Jin Ling knows, theoretically, that death should frighten him. Cultivators strive to evade death and achieve immortality. The shrine should serve to remind him of the futility of that task. And yet, when Jin Ling kneels before the spiral of tablets, he feels… peace. Belonging. The shades of his ancestors comfort him, and he thinks that he can feel the ghost of his mother’s embrace, there, in that room. He was too young when she died, but his mother lived on in the lore of the cultivation world for her gentleness and warmth. He likes to think that had she been alive, she would have comforted him every time the Jin boys bullied him in the yard, would have whispered into his ears how proud she is of him, would have brushed his hair until he fell asleep in her arms. 

The shrine is lit with the soft glow of the chandelier overhead. Jin Ling sees two figures, kneeling on opposite sides of the spiral altar, and he identifies them readily as his jiujiu and Nie Huaisang. Not wanting to attract attention, Jin Ling moves himself with the shadows, taking care to silent his footsteps and his breathing. 

Jiang Cheng’s face is to him. Jin Ling can’t get a good look at Nie Huaisang’s expression without moving into a position where he would be visible to them both. Jin Ling thinks that it is actually quite fortunate that Nie Huaisang had been here when the lockdown began. As much as he enjoys spending time at Lotus Pier, jiujiu can be… a lot, when the full force of his attention is on Jin Ling. Sect Leader Jiang, fifth among the cultivators of his generation, surely rates first or second for the foulness of his temperament, bested only by Sect Leader Nie of the Qinghe Nie. From what little he has seen of the man, Jin Ling can scarcely believe that pretty Nie Huaisang, always so sweet and gentle and almost awkwardly charming in how he carries himself, is the Sect Leader’s brother. 

Nie Huaisang has always been nice to him, in that vaguely cautious, deferential way that adults are nice to children they know would become powerful one day. Jin Ling himself does not feel powerful. He wonders if Nie Huaisang knows a thing or two about that.

They are old friends, his jiujiu said to him once. Jiang Cheng dislikes talking about the past, and all that Jin Ling knows is collected from various busybodies with piecemeal glimpses into Jiang Cheng’s boyhood. Apparently, according to the old cook lady, Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian, and Nie Huaisang were childhood friends, trained at the Cloud Recesses together before the war. Jin Ling wonders how, with such rigorous training and esteemed company, did Nie Huaisang turn out to have so little skills in the cultivation arts. He thinks of himself and his friends and wonders, with a jolt of self-consciousness, which one of them will turn out to be the worst of the lot, the most useless and frivolous. Jin Ling once heard that calling someone nice may be the least complimentary thing one could say about another person. He thinks it may have been his jiujiu who had told him that. 

“Are you quite sure that you’ve run over the numbers correctly?” Jiang Cheng asks, scowling as he speaks. Jin Ling feels a cold spike of conditioned fear at his uncle’s tone. “The surplus seems too large to be true.”

Across from him, Nie Huaisang softly flutters his fan, an empty gesture. The evening is yet cool, and Jin Ling is even wearing one of his slightly thicker hoodies. Once, when he was young, he had asked his uncle why there was no air-conditioning at Lotus Pier. His uncle gave him a rare smile and said that the lakes were charmed to make sure the residence is cool in the summer and warm in the winter without the need for technological interventions.

Nie Huaisang’s voice is light. “You’re welcome to run them again. Nie Sect trades have been booming. I’m thinking of taking it public soon, when da-ge is ready to take the step. It would be a very profitable alliance for Jiang Sect, especially if you hope to compete against the Lanling Jin and their allies.”

“We are an ally of the Lanling Jin,” Jiang Cheng points out. “And technically, so are you. We all signed an agreement.”

“We have no bond of marriage to the Lanling Jin as you do,” Huaisang says beatifically, chuckling a little. “Jiang Cheng, this is not a plot to take down the Lanling Jin, but as they say, commerce is a battlefield. They have been cornering much of the cultivation market and acquired too many of the smaller sects. We risk not only our prominence, but our own existence as independent sects if Lanling Jin is allowed to expand unimpeded.”

Jiang Cheng sighs. “This is my nephew’s sect we are talking about. It feels like sabotage against his future.” 

Nie Huaisang folds his fan and places it down, his voice softening. “It will be a different kind of world when your nephew comes into power. Jin Guangyao is still in his prime. When Jin Ling becomes Sect Leader in many years, things will be quite different then, and I can only hope that your nephew takes after the Jiang side of the family when it comes to bloodthirst on the trading floor. As I said, the goal is not to stop their expansion but to expand our own reach. A strong alliance between our two sects is the only way forward. The numbers prove it. Please feel free to have your own analysts go over them, but I am never wrong about these things.”

“And what of your alliance with the Gusu Lan? Your brother may as well declare a formal marriage, for all that the cultivation world knows of his… extended tryst with the Lan Sect leader.” Jiang Cheng demands.

“You have your own alliance with the Gusu Lan. It is only natural that we should then declare the Jiang-Nie alliance publicly, to present a united front.”

Jiang Cheng sighs. Jin Ling shifts in his crouch, pressing his ear forward more to catch the words. “But the Venerated Triad… What does your own brother think of this? I cannot imagine Lan Xichen moving against Jin Guangyao, and if Lan Xichen will not, you know your brother will do whatever is asked of him. It is a betrayal.”

Nie Huaisang stands and starts to pace. Jin Ling can see his face, the expressive, fearful facade completely gone. He almost looks… confident. “My brother does not yet know. It is something I had hoped to secure before bringing it back to him.”

“So you would go behind your brother’s back, behind everyone’s back. What did Jin Guangyao ever do to you? It almost seems like a personal vendetta against the Lanling Jin Sect.”

Nie Huaisang gives a nervous giggle. “You misunderstand, Jiang Cheng. There is nothing of that sort. I merely worry about the survival of our sects, especially my own. Self-interest is a powerful thing. We have thousands of years of tradition. Forgive me if I don’t particularly enjoy the idea of one day being absorbed into the Jin Sect when they A&M the rest of us. And you know they will. Jin Guangyao is a dear friend, and that is why I worry. I know how good of a businessman he is. He will wipe us out, not in blood perhaps, but in wealth and influence. It is just a matter of time.”

Jiang Cheng tilts his head slightly. “And so… an alliance.”

Nie Huaisang nods. “An alliance. The old fashioned way, by marriage.”

The silence in the shrine is almost palpable. Jin Ling inches forward, eyes wide.

“You are a lot more devious than they give you credit for,” Jiang Cheng murmurs at last. “You hide behind that fan and those embarrassing public gaffs—I’m quite sure now that they are a farce.”

“Are they,” Nie Huaisang intones, a blank smile on his face. 

“Nie Huaisang, if this is your way of proposing marriage to me, there were much easier ways of going about it.”

“Are there,” Nie Huaisang repeats, his eyelashes fluttering softly.

“This is a sacred place,” Jiang Cheng says with great emphasis. “Imagine what my parents would say. My mother would have struck you with Zidian the moment she lays eyes on you.”

Nie Huaisang lets the fan snap shut, his eyes sharp on Jiang Cheng. “But what would you say?”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes soften, and Jin Ling can scarcely believe the gentleness in his jiujiu’s voice. “Of course, you absolute menace.”

The fan falls to the floor, Jiang Cheng moving toward Nie Huaisang, closing the distance between them, their bodies intertwined, their faces locked together.

Oh god oh god ohgodohgodohgod.

Jin Ling squeezes his eyes shut, turns away, and tiptoes as fast as he can out of that corner, the sound of soft breathing and muttered protestations chasing him until he finally gets back to his own room.

Perhaps he has been misinterpreting their heated looks toward each other all this time.

Jin Ling throws his phone aside, facedown, and wants to slam his head against the wall. He is making such a fool of himself, but it is hard to know what to say without sounding dumb around his friends, Sizhui in particular.

He grabs his phone, pointedly ignores anything that Lan Sizhui may have written after his last messages, and sends one last text before tossing the phone as far away from him as possible and throwing the cover over his head, hoping that once he wakes up tomorrow morning, this whole day will all have just been a really embarrassing nightmare.

Before he met Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi during that fateful night hunt, Jin Ling never thought he would ever have a true friend. It is difficult when one is the heir presumptive of the most powerful and prosperous sect in the cultivation world. It is even more difficult when your shushu is the Chief Cultivator whom everyone wants to impress, and your jiujiu is known far and wide for his infamous Zidian-fueled temper. All Jin Ling had known were children of prominent cultivators hoping to curry favor with either of his uncles, young, disinterested girls introduced to an equally disinterested Jin Ling by their hopeful fathers, and fellow Jin disciples, alternatingly nauseatingly nice to him in front of his uncle and brazenly ganging up on him when adult eyes wander elsewhere. And Jin Ling learned to fight back, vowed to himself that he would become the greatest at fighting back, and fought back, earning bruises and twisted joints sometimes, but he dished out as good as he got.

And then Jin Ling met Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi in that forest, and all the craziness with Wei Wuxian followed, and as they say, the rest is history. 

Lan Jingyi is the slightly older sibling Jin Ling never thought he actually wanted, but when they are together, it feels as if all those lonely days of his childhood in Lanling never existed. Jin Ling thinks that if Lan Jingyi were around, no one would dare bully him. Lan Jingyi’s loud mouth would surely have warned them all away, and then Jingyi himself would tease him mercilessly and stuff a roll of something sweet in his mouth. Jin Ling knows this to be true because it actually did happen when the Lan disciples accompanied Zewu-jun and Hanguang-jun to see his shushu. 

Sizhui is… a different story. Jin Ling thinks it is very unfair that the Lan Sect robes are white with such delicate blue embellishments. Sizhui is quite very literally the sun and the clouds make flesh, and it kind of hurts to stare at him too long. Jin Ling is sure that he was slightly meaner to Lan Sizhui than he should have been when they first met, but for some incomprehensible reason, that never deterred Sizhui from reaching out. Sizhui is just a little older, but he is the only one who actually calls Jin Ling by his courtesy name, and the way Sizhui rolls his tongue around the word “Rulan” makes all kinds of unpleasant lurching sensations crop up in Jin Ling’s stomach. It must be some kind of Lan Sect magic, and Jin Ling never questions why these odd feelings never manifest around Jingyi or any of the other Lan disciples. 

Sometimes, Jin Ling wishes he were more like his shushu than his jiujiu . Jin Guangyao is a master of grace and charm. Jiang Cheng… prefers to talk through the swings of Zidian. 

Lan Sizhui’s smiles make Jin Ling want to smile like that in return, but all he manages are flushed faces and stumbled half-apologies and averted eyes. And yet, Sizhui still puts up with him, and Jin Ling is only too grateful to ask him why.

The call comes when Jin Ling is still contemplating whether to feign sickness for the day so that he will not have to be as active in the groupchat, but given the situation with the spreading illness that caused this lockdown in the first place, he decides against it. His bed is warm, the cover soft, and he pulls it up to his chin, curling into the softness and wishes that his entire day can be spent like this.

And when the call comes, Jin Ling is not surprised, nor is he surprised to see the name attached to the video chat request.

It is so very difficult to deny anything Sizhui requests. He is just not in the mood for teasing right now, and with Lan Jingyi quite literally behind Sizhui’s back, it is a very valid assumption that picking up the call will result in a dose of early morning banter that he is not sure he is in the mood for.

The vibrations stop. Lan Sizhui’s text message pops up on the screen.

Hesitantly, Jin Ling rolls over on one side. Sizhui’s photo comes up, taking up the whole of his phone screen. In the photo, Sizhui is wearing one of those trademarked Lan smiles, gentle and restrained, but it doesn’t even look like he is trying. It is just his genuine smile, and it makes Jin Ling’s heart stutter every time he sees it.

He swipes right to pick up the call.

“Rulan!” Sizhui exclaims. 

“Hey,” Jin Ling says. His image in the video call is small and tucked to the side, but he can see how his hair sticks up all over the place, and self-consciously he raises a hand to smooth it down. Of course Sizhui already looks perfectly dressed and ready for the day.

“Are you still in bed?” Sizhui asks, a slight frown drawing his brows together.

“Mmm, couldn’t sleep well last night.” Jin Ling yawns. “Um. Something big is happening.”

“What is it?” Sizhui’s frown deepens.

“I don’t know if I can tell you now, but it’s… I guess it’s not bad. Just really big. Um. I’m kind of still in shock. I’m guessing the news will be announced soon.”

Sizhui breathes out heavily. “Rulan, you’re scaring me. Does it have to do with you? Are you okay?”

Jin Ling shakes his head. “I’m fine. It’s not to do with me. Well, maybe a little, but not directly. It’s just… shocking. Anyway. It helps to talk to you about it even if I can’t say much.”

Sizhui’s features soften. “I wish I can help, Rulan.”

You are, Jin Ling thinks, swallowing the lump in his throat. Sizhui’s face is so gentle, the sunlight illuminating the clearness of his skin, the graceful lines of his eyes and lips, and Jin Ling’s heart is throbbing to think that it will be so long before he can see Sizhui in person again.

And Jingyi, of course. And the rest of them.

But there is something special about Sizhui.

“Rulan, come do morning yoga with us, okay? We’ll start a conference call. It’ll help you feel better, no matter what it is that you can’t really say.”

Jin Ling takes a deep breath. Sizhui is right. It will certainly take his mind off of the revelation, and with any luck, he can avoid both his jiujiu and Nie Huaisang today, pretending he has heard nothing until they decide to release that news.

He should be happy.

He is happy. Jiujiu seemed happy last night. This can be a good thing. 

His family is growing.

It is a good thing.

“Okay, Sizhui,” Jin Ling says finally. Sizhui’s features light up in a dazzling smile, and Jin Ling thinks he has made the right decision.

“I’ll see you soon, then!” Sizhui says happily. “I can’t wait, Rulan!”

“Neither can I,” Jin Ling murmurs, and Sizhui’s face disappears, the screen going dark.

Well then. It is a new day. He is going to see his friends over videochat, banter with Jingyi, laugh with Sizhui, watch Sizhui and admire the perfect forms of Sizhui’s poses, and probably hear about some big news from the adults in the house later.

It is really too bad that there won’t be a new cousin coming. Jin Ling thinks back to last night, of the gentleness of his jiujiu’s voice and the soft look in his eyes, the way his entire body turns to Nie Huaisang, who opens up entirely and willingly to Jiang Cheng’s touch, to their faces pressed together, the softness of the candlelight casting warm shadows on the planes of their faces, his uncle's in particular far kinder than Jin Ling had ever seen it, and there was something very much like affection and love in the way they looked at each other.

Perhaps it is okay if this union will not produce any offspring. Jin Ling has his friends. And maybe one day a new cousin will come into his life via other ways. It is only fair that his jiujiu finally finds someone who can make him smile like that, after all these years.

Perhaps all the love that Jiang Cheng had put into restoring Yunmeng, making it a home, can be returned at last.

Jin Ling throws off the cover, sits up, and thinks about the radiance of Sizhui’s smile, his own lips curling at the edges.

This quarantine doesn’t have to be so boring, after all.