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The idea that Jin Ling could become the Jin Sect Leader was always vague and distant to him. In theory, of course, he knew he was the very next in line, but it never seemed quite like something that would, or could, actually come to pass, and even if so, then not for many, many years yet.
It seemed that he was not alone in this belief, judging by the truly astonishing upheaval following the fall and death of Un- Jin Guangyao. Meng Yao, some of the Elders reverted to calling him, eager to distance themselves and the sect from the scandal making waves through the whole cultivation world. Jin Ling could not quite bring himself to that, compromising by divesting him of the Uncle mantle. It didn’t seem like enough, in the eyes of many, just another sign that he was- emotional, perhaps. Soft? Unfit?
Officially, he took great offence at that. Privately as well, except for when he quietly agreed, in the panic-fuelled moments that were not as few and far between as he would have liked.
Jiujiu, however, took an even greater offence.
Thankfully, jiujiu was back in Lotus Pier, dealing with some kind of a dispute Sect Leader Yao brought to his attention, with impeccable timing. Regretfully, it did not occupy him to the point where he wasn’t at liberty to send a flurry of messages every day. Jin Ling was not sure if as a Sect Leader he could force someone to unlearn the Jin message butterfly technique once it had been bestowed, but he was going to check.
It’s not that his help wasn’t invaluable and Jin Ling wasn’t grateful for all the advice. He just wished there was a little… less of it.
“He rebuilt the Jiang sect when he was about your age,” un- Wei Wuxian of all people told him. “You could do worse than listening to him.”
“Why are you avoiding him, then?” Jin Ling asked him.
“I am not a young, fledgling sect leader,” un- Wei Wuxian shrugged at him, reaching out to pat the side of his head, then added, incredibly belatedly, “and I’m not avoiding him.”
Considering he had spent the entire emergency discussion conference doing just that, then fucked off to somewhere only coming back when jiujiu left… “Yes you are.”
“Lies and slander. We’ve been in the same room on multiple occasions.”
Giving statements in a room full of sect leaders and assorted elders does not count, and Jin Ling told him that, getting a finger pointed at his face for his trouble.
“Careful, kid, you are not too old to be planted like a radish and watered properly,” he said nonsensically. It had the cadence and almost the wording of a threat, but it made Jin Ling feel warm and almost fond and that made him bristle.
“I am a sect leader now,” he protested. The ‘you can’t do that’ was implied.
All he got was an extremely dismissive “Eeeehhh,” his knuckles brushing under Jin Ling’s chin. Jin Ling glared at him, which seemed to have no effect whatsoever, not that he truly expected it to. He didn’t even swat his hand away, like he would have just a few weeks before.
There was no point, really, it would neither bother nor stop Wei Wuxian, who, as it turned out, was an extremely... tactile person. If it was not a pat on his head, then it was an arm thrown around his shoulders, or a gentle shove with his elbow, or a hand lingering on his forearm. Jin Ling did his best to protest loudly, but perhaps not so loudly or vehemently as to make Un- Wei Wuxian actually stop.
If something twisted under his ribcage and made him feel raw and fragile and safe at the same time, well, that was nobody’s damn business but his own.
“Why are you even here?” he questioned, jutting out his chin.
“Ah,” Wei Wuxian beamed at him. “A group of Lan juniors are tracking a yao a little down south from here. They have kindly requested my assistance. And I thought you might use a break from all the paperwork.”
“A little down south from here? Shouldn’t the Lan sect notify us about hunting in our territory?” Jin Ling asked suspiciously, instead of going for the first question on his mind.
“I am sure they sent a perfectly polite note that’s somewhere in your correspondence piles. And in any case, they notified me, knowing I will notify you. That Lan Jingyi, very efficient,” he said with some satisfaction and all too knowing grin. Jin Ling made an uncommitting noise in response.
“I suppose lending a helping hand would be in the interest of inter-sect cooperation,” he offered slowly. “Is Sizhui there too?”
“He’s travelling with-” and there was only a slightest hesitation there, “Wen Ning. Westward, last time I’ve heard. I am sure he would welcome correspondence,” he added, almost gently, and Jin Ling bristled at his knowing look.
“Do I look like I have time for more correspondence?” he asked, even though he made a mental note of sending a missive later. Sizhui should be aware that if his travels took him close to Langling politeness dictated paying his respects to the Jin Sect. “Alright, tell me about the yao,” he demanded and ignored the self-satisfied look on Wei Wuxian’s face.
The hunt took four days and left them all exhausted, bedraggled, and with little spiritual energy left, but it had been the most fun Jin Ling had since- actually, he couldn’t even remember. On the way back, Wei Wuxian complained unconvincingly about being old and tired and stalled for long enough that it made more sense to take rooms in an inn near the border with Gusu rather than trying to make it all the way back to the Koi Tower. To his credit, he did pay for their rooms, but he also had taken his money out of a pouch that had a suspicious blue and white cloud pattern embroidered all over.
He also looked the other way, pointedly and laughing himself stupid behind his hand, when Jingyi attempted to buy liquor and smuggle it upstairs pretending he was taking up tea. He was about as stealthy about it as a Lan could, which was not a jot.
“I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m watching you,” he told Wei Wuxian, who had the audacity to wink at him and then make shooing motions with his hands.
“Go have fun. And maybe ward the doors, Lans have no alcohol tolerance, better not lose any of them to chicken hunts.”
“I have no idea what half of the things coming out of your mouth are,” Jin Ling informed him.
“Only half? I’m doing great. Away with you, I have things. Important things,” he said, and that was… worrying. Jin Ling elected not to ask, though he did elect to hover in the corridor after leaving the main inn room and to wait until he saw Wei Wuxian leave, rushing to the window to watch him cross the street and, inexplicably, walk into a different inn.
He informed Lan Jingyi of those suspicious circumstances, but Jingyi just nodded at him sagely. “Yeah, makes sense, that’s where Hanguang-jun usually stays.”
“Why aren’t we staying there, then?” it was pretty clear that the Lan money was paying for the inn, why wouldn’t they stay in the one Hanguang-jun approved of? Jingyi tapped his nose in a manner that was eerily reminiscent of Wei Wuxian, clearly on purpose, and that meant absolutely nothing.
“Yeah,” he said, and then swayed a little forward. “Hey, hey, question. Anyone ever flown on their sword while doing headstands?”
That proved to be a spectacularly bad idea, but it was fun while it lasted.
It was decidedly less fun next morning, when he woke up with his head pounding and his mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. The Lans seemed to be even worse off, except for Lan Liqiu, who woke up at five and went for a run and Jin Ling decided to live in fear and awe of her forever.
“First hangover?” Un- Wei Wuxian asked, in a tone that sounded equally sympathetic and mocking, but he had their breakfast brought up to the rooms and made sure they drank plenty of water, so Jin Ling was feeling pretty forgiving about the mocking part. “Remind me to teach you how to direct your spiritual energy to alleviate that. Problem is, it’s a fucking pain to learn while actually hangover, so you’re going to have to suffer through this one,” he offered, sounding unexpectedly apologetic.
He also held Jin Ling’s hair back with gentle hands when Jin Ling puked his guts out in the Koi Tower garden when it turned out that flying on your sword when massively hung over was, in fact, not a stellar idea.
He was a little less mortified about the whole thing because Jingyi and two other lans were currently in the same sorry state and once they managed to hold eye contact they solemnly agreed to never speak of it. He thought he might even trust Wei Wuxian to hold to the same bargain.
Of course, this was the exact moment when heavy footsteps echoed down the path and a shout of “Jin Ling!” rang out at a truly terrifying volume, enough to actually bring forth a second wave of nausea up to Jin Ling’s throat.
“Wasn’t he supposed to be at Lotus Pier until next week?” Wei Wuxian muttered under his breath, straightening up with a guileless smile so quick it almost seemed real.
The Lans scrambled up to offer perfectly poised formal bows, and only Jingyi made an unhappy sound as the motion undoubtedly didn’t help with his own hangover. “Sect Leader Jiang,” they intoned almost mournfully, a little out of sync with each other.
“Jiujiu,” Jin Ling confirmed dolefully, earning himself a glare as Jiang Cheng stepped in closer.
“You! Gallivanting heavens know where. Cultivators from Moling arrived this morning, and the esteemed sect leader they came to petition is nowhere to be seen! Do you know what that looks like?”
“I didn’t know they would be coming!” he protested, because he didn’t. Not to mention- “Hasn’t the Moling sect disbanded?”
“Of course it has! Why do you think they are here? I should break your legs, that would keep you from leaving,” Jiujiu muttered and then the whole thing dawned on Jin Ling.
“I notified the elders!” he insisted. “You didn’t have to worry.”
Jiang Cheng gave him a scathing glare that meant it wasn’t the point, even though it pretty clearly was. His glare swept across the garden, the Lan disciples bearing it admirably, save for Lan Jingyi, who looked like he was about to snicker, and Lan Shirong, who bent over after bowing and dry heaved into the bushes.
Wei Wuxian, silent for the whole exchange so far, shifted in place drawing Jiang Cheng’s attention, and bowed. “Sect Leader Jiang,” he offered pleasantly, and Jin Ling swallowed around the dryness in his throat, because this probably wasn’t good.
Jiujiu’s jaw clenched, and he could practically hear him grinding his teeth, and then his hand tightened around Sandu, knuckles white, and he was already half-turning towards Wei Wuxian, and Jin Ling gulped and stepped forward quickly.
“There was a yao that needed my attention,” he said, not defensively, because to speak defensively would be to admit that his actions needed to be defended in the first place. “The Lan Sect and Senior Wei were lending their assistance.”
One of the Lans, Jin Ling didn’t see which one, made a sound of indignant protest, only to be immediately shushed by Jingyi, who might be the absolute Worst a lot of times, but who was, occasionally, the Best. “We are very grateful for Sect Leader Jin’s help,” he offered, bowing again, only the barest hint of amusement in the bland smile worthy of Zewu-jun.
Jiang Cheng scowled at him, but it was moderate enough to barely register, and then turned to Wei Wuxian again, the scowl deepening at first and then- disappearing?
Jin Ling frowned, gaze moving quickly between the two.
“The Moling sect?” Wei Wuxian asked, frowning. “What are they here for?”
“Well, they were disbanded in disgrace,” Jingyi offered with something close to unholy glee. “Half a dozen came to Gusu a few weeks ago, mostly newer ones, who didn’t really know about Su She’s history of betrayal.” He seemed to be taking great satisfaction in telling the story, and a couple of the Lan disciples were nodding along. “They timed it right, or lucked out, because Hanguang-jun was here for the conference, and old Master Lan decided to take in the ones who proved to be semi-competent at least. Hanguang-jun threw a fit when he came back, but it was too late.”
“Jingyi,” Lan Liqiu chided him, belatedly, filling in the awkward silence. Jin Ling had a suspicion that usually it would be Sizhui’s job to reign Jingyi in.
Jiang Cheng was scowling again, but he nodded at Jingyi as if he agreed. “That would have been- acceptable- if that was the only thing at play,” he offered, in a tone that suggested it would not be acceptable in the slightest. “They are here to seek reparations.”
“What? What for?” Jin Ling sputtered, and felt Wei Wuxian step closer, shoulder to shoulder with him now.
“They blame the previous Jin Sect Leader for the corruption and death of their own,” Jiujiu told him, with anger that was not as much contained as tightly wound and ready, a quiet crackle of Zidian accompanied by a smell of ozone.
Wei Wuxian tapped his nose. “Hmm. Mhmm. I think they might have a point.”
The quiet crackle of Zidian became much less quiet all of a sudden. “Wei Wuxian!”
“No, no. Their grievances might be perfectly legitimate,” Wei Wuxian offered, sounding positively gleeful, and the only reason Jin Ling didn’t feel like this was the worst betrayal was because a couple months ago he learned that Mo Xanyu, whom he started to trust and- turned out to be Wei Wuxian, who was responsible for the death of his parents, and then a couple weeks ago, he learned that his- his uncle- was in fact responsible for the death of his parents, his grandfather, his cousin, a great number of other people, not to mention threatening to kill him and orchestrating the downfall of Wei Wuxian.
That put things in perspective. A bleak one, but nonetheless.
Wei Wuxian was still talking. “But grievances such as this should be brought in front of the Chief Cultivator, for unbiased judgement.”
The Zidian stilled, and so did Jiang Cheng. Behind Jing Ling, Jingyi whistled. “Oh, shit.”
“Perhaps,” Jiujiu allowed, “I should bring that to their attention.”
“I can point them in the direction of Gusu,” Wei Wuxian agreed. Jiujiu gave him a sharp nod and turned to march away without sparing Jin Ling a glance, and Wei Wuxian paused only for a moment before he followed.
“You kids go have breakfast, rest. Jingyi, you might want to send word to Lan Zhan to warn him,” he offered, Jingyi grinning back at him. “And someone maybe get Lan Shirong a fresh set of robes.”
He disappeared down the path, running up to catch up with Jiang Cheng, and Lan Shirong shrugged sheepishly as he got up from the ground, stains of grass and mud on his otherwise pristine white robes. He has, thankfully, no longer looked like he was going to puke again.
“Hanguang-jun is not going to like this, not one bit,” Jingyi muttered, sounding pleased, before turning to Jin Ling and offering a lazy bow. “Can I trouble you for a messenger butterfly, Sect Leader Jin?”
Jin Ling acquiesced to the request, but not before eliciting a solemn promise that Jingyi will keep him updated on the fallout from it. Especially since Jingyi seemed convinced that Hanguang-jun’s displeasure would not be contained to the matters of the former Su sect, but also extend to whatever the fuck was going on between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian.
Since Jin Ling had no idea whatever the fuck was going on between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, he was intensely curious about the fallout from that.
He had ushered the Lans into the guest quarters and called for breakfast, and checked up on Fairy, and arranged for fresh robes for everyone, because after the four day hunt and last night and this morning, even the Lan looked disheveled. It was actually kind of comforting. By the time he was done the Moling disciples had left, Wei Wuxian disappeared, heavens knew where, and Jiang Cheng was reviewing the training schedules, which was probably one more thing Jin Ling should look into, but he already had a headache today.
He wasn’t even officially done with his own training, the fact that he was now in charge of it was- well, probably not the greatest idea.
His pile of correspondence seemed to have doubled in the four days of his absence. Reports of strange occurrences and possible spirits, asking for aid from cultivators. An overview of the renovation of watchtowers affected by recent floods. Quarterly report from the silver mines. A proposal for a revised curriculum of talisman studies.
This one was annotated in red ink by someone who thought the proposal was completely rubbish. Jin Ling frowned at the ink smudged in haste and folded the paper before heading to the treasure vault.
“What are you snooping here for?” he asked Wei Wuxian, who was bent over the desk and sorting through papers.
“Just wondering if I missed any other severed heads last time,” Wei Wuxian said, not even looking up. “I thought you were going to have someone look through all this.” The sect leaders at the emergency discussion conference were very concerned about everything Un- Jin Guangyao has amassed, probably dreading any dirt he might have on them. The question of who will be handling the secret treasure vault of the former Chief Cultivator was raised repeatedly, but in the end the fact that the vault also served as one of the Jin Sect treasure rooms prevailed.
Jiujiu almost lost his voice by the end of that discussion.
“Hanguang-jun has requested I wait for one of his assistants to evaluate anything regarding the Chief Cultivator office. I agreed,” Jin Ling offered flatly. That was another long discussion, this time between Jiujiu and himself, but he has prevailed. The request has been reasonably within the bounds of the Chief Cultivator’s prerogatives, and it has been very politely phrased, more politely than Jin Ling expected from someone who still tended to instinctively step in between him and Wei Wuxian whenever in mutual company.
Wei Wuxian did look up at that, smiling. “Look at you, playing politics. I bet Jiang Cheng wasn’t happy about that one.”
He wasn’t wrong. “It was my decision,” was all he said, stepping closer to the table and peering at the paper. “You shouldn’t be here. As I said, we’re waiting for Hanguang-jun’s assistant.”
“Ehh, Lan Zhan will understand,” Wai Wuxian shrugged. Jin Ling was probably never going to be over that incredible informality of address. Jiang Cheng occasionally called Hanguang-Jun “Lan Wangji” but even that seemed impossible. “Lan Zhan” was much worse, Jin Ling barely dared to think it in the safety of his own head. “Besides, these are mine, look,” he said, waving the papers in front of Jin Ling much too fast for him to actually see anything. He reached out, grabbing at the papers. They were old and smudged, like they spent a lot of time in a damp place, the paper crumpled and stained. But the writing was familiar.
“Talismans?”
“Some of them, work in progress though. Nothing much useful, really. I know these were taken from the Demon-Subdue Palace, but I had much more there. Pity, I could use those, had some good projects started.”
“There’s another box,” Jin Ling found himself saying, and raised his chin, daring Wei Wuxian to comment.
Wei Wuxian dared. “Another box? What happened to waiting for Lan Zhan’s assistant?”
“I am not taking them out,” he pointed out, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “Besides, it’s the Jin sect treasure vault.” It has been agreed. He was doing Hanguang-jun a favour. He was being considerate and mature and perhaps Hanguang-jun could take this into account and stop glaring at him every time they met.
Un- Wei Wuxian grinned at him. “Show me the box.”
It took them the better part of the next three hours to go through it. It was mostly unfinished talisman designs and some scrambled notes, nothing that would be useful for anyone but Wei Wuxian probably. The notes made no sense to Jin Ling at least, that is until Wei Wuxian started talking, outlining his thought process, rambling a little as he was figuring it out from his own notes.
He segued into talisman theory and then a rant on the curriculum proposal he had already defaced, bounding back neatly into the few complete talismans in the box, handing them over to Jin Ling with a flourish.
“You should teach that,” Jin Ling told him, surprising himself, though perhaps not as much as he surprised Wei Wuxian.
“What? It’s not that difficult once you see it,” he offered, pointing at the talismans. “As long as you get the radicals here right, you’re good.”
“No, I mean the whole thing. You’ve seen the proposal, it’s a mess, and it’s actually an improvement on the way it was taught. It’s Jin Kong’s class, and he could probably lay a restless spirit to rest just by lecturing for an hour, he’s so dull. I actually learned more-” he stopped himself abruptly and Wei Wuxian waved his hand at him, a smile playing in the corner of his mouth.
“You’ve actually learned more…” he prompted, and Jin Ling huffed at him.
“When we were in Yi City,” he muttered, glaring at Wei Wuxian to dare him to say anything.
He expected a shit-eating grin and some gloating, but un- Wei Wuxian just smiled slightly, almost softly. He opened his mouth and then stopped, noticing something deeper in the box, pulling out a piece of fabric, wrapped around something. He unfolded it slowly, revealing a tassel and a couple loose beads.
“What is that?” Jin Ling asked, craning his head. “Something from your inventions?” He hadn’t really seen any up close. He’s known a few people who had the compasses, but refused to look at them before. Many cultivators used Wei Wuxian’s lure flags or array designs, even the Lan clan did. Not the Jin or the Jiang though. There was no reason not to change that, now. “What is it?”
Wei Wuxian didn’t answer, but reached out with his free hand and ran his index finger along the tassel, then picked up one of the beads, turning it over. It was cracked, part of it crumbled away.
“It’s not,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “They must have thought- they probably thought it was. It’s-” he shook his head, closing his hand on the beads, falling silent for a long moment. He folded the fabric back slowly, carefully. “Sorry,” he said finally, and it seemed like he wanted the topic dropped, but-
His expression was familiar enough to something Jin Ling remembered vividly, back before he even knew who he was. When he apologised, sincere and soft, making Jin Ling both uncomfortable and-
Not many people apologised to Jin Ling, not earnestly and not for important things. He learned not to expect it.
Wei Wuxian still looked- sad. That was the thing. Jin Ling didn’t like it.
“Dajiu?” he prompted, the word slipping out, Wei Wuxian looking up sharply, his eyes bright.
“I can probably fix this,” he said, after another long moment. “Just a few beads, will be good as new. It was a gift,” he told Jin Ling, probably as much explanation as he was going to get, but he couldn’t help himself from pushing.
“From who?”
His uncle sighed. “For you, A-Ling,” he said, and handed it over. Jin Ling unfolded the fabric again. There were two whole beads, intricately carved. Three more cracked and crumbled. The tassel was dusty with powder. It had been a fine piece once, he thought. “I had it with me when-” uncle started and shook his head. “Qiongqi Path.”
Jin Ling didn’t push on that,, he didn’t have to, he could guess when that had been. He folded the fabric around the beads and tucked it into his sleeve.
“I can fix it,” dajiu told him.
“No need,” he said, and immediately knew it didn’t come out like he wanted it to, judging by the way dajiu looked away. “You can use the time to work on the curriculum instead.”
That got him a quick, surprised grin. “Your uncle won’t be happy about it.”
“Just because he wasn’t smart enough to ask you to teach at Lotus Pier, doesn’t mean the Jin sect cannot benefit,” Jin Ling told him primly.
“I’m not staying here for the whole year.”
“Who asked you to? You’re a nuisance most of the time,” he shot back. He was starting to enjoy himself, and he could tell that so was Wei Wuxian.
“Visiting lecturer. Two months in the fall. And you are taking the class too.”
“I wasn’t going to let you teach unsupervised,” he said and dajiu laughed out loud.
“We are going to let anyone who wants to take the class. Disciples from any clans.”
“No-” Jin Ling started and then stopped. That would mean the Lans, for sure, but also perhaps minor clans, like the Ouyang. He could- “I’ll allow it,” he conceded. Wei Wuxian’s smile was all too knowing.
“I thought you might,” he offered, reaching out to pat the side of his head, ruffling his hair a little. If Jin Ling leant into it, no one was going to know.