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Jin Ling assumed that the reason no one had managed to kill him before he turned sixteen had been his uncle. If he took more than a moment to think about this, he realized he didn’t know which uncle he really meant. They were, after all, both intimidating in their own way. One, famously quick to anger. The other, famously competent. Famously competent and quietly the most dangerous man none of them had ever really known.
That is to say, apparently one less uncle meant that the assassination attempts could be renewed. A fact that was becoming quite clear now as the spots swimming in front of his eyes began to coalesce into a dark, world-erasing cloud.
“Jin Ling!” He heard Lan Sizhui’s voice somewhere to the right of him. A hand gripped the back of his head, supporting it. Supporting it? He blinked his eyes furiously. Around the darkness he could see the floor tilting in several directions, as though he were on a boat. If he was on a boat, why would Sizhui sound so concerned and not seasick…?
His stomach twisted, all knots and things folding in on themselves and that was not something he knew he could feel, and he groaned. “Sizhui, the wine-”
He felt, rather than heard or saw, or anything, the moment his uncle swept into the room. Sizhui’s hand was tight. Sizhui’s arms? When had he fallen completely backward? “Lan Sizhui, take him to his chambers.” A clatter of pottery. “The rest of you, come with me.” He never even saw the strident purple of his uncle’s robes, but over the roaring in his ears he could hear the crackle of Zidian. Someone was probably going to suffer. He hoped-well, he hoped it was quick.
What he could see of the world swooped, or maybe that was his stomach, and faded into the pale blue and white of Lan robes. Sizhui was leaning over, pulling him fully into his arms before straightening. Jin Ling couldn’t tell if he was capable of blushing and his face was already fluctuating between cold and hot, but he would have words with the Lan sect heir later. To be carried like a blushing maiden-! It was truly disrespectful. He vaguely tossed the idea of swatting at Sizhui with Suihua, but - he wiggled his fingers - Suihua wasn’t in his hand and really, that would take more effort.
“Jin Ling, stop wiggling.” Sizhui’s voice above his head was soft. “Are you awake?”
“Mmph.” Jin Ling tried again. “‘M gonna be sick.” He thought it was only fair for him to warn his friend.
Sizhui deposited him gently on his bed. Jin Ling squeezed his eyes shut, willing his stomach to settle and his head to stop spinning. You’d think that the world being a blurry, swirling void would be enough to reduce vertigo, but no. He groaned and struggled upright, feeling the bile rising in his throat.
The bed sank under Sizhui’s weight. A warm hand rubbed his back and then an arm supported him. He leaned against it. He was dying, so if anyone said anything about Sect Leader Jin leaning on Sect Heir Lan, he’d fight them later. “Here, I brought a bowl.” Jin Ling felt the edge of some ceramic vessel thrust under his chin. “Jiang-zongzhu said it would be better for you to get it out of your body.” He felt the arm behind his back move, cradling him now. The bowl shifted, and then he felt two cool fingers at his wrist. “Zizhen is chasing the healers down. You were lucky we were all here.”
Jin Ling tried to nod, his eyes still squeezed shut. This was a bad idea and he felt the acrid burn of his dinner coming up his throat. Sizhui held the bowl steady as he heaved.
“Sizhui! Is he okay? Is he awake? I heard Jiang-zongzhu yelling - I think they might have caught the assassin - is Zizhen back -” Jingyi’s words faded into nothing as the roaring in Jin Ling’s ears reached a crescendo. Hands caught at his shoulders as he tilted forward into a vortex.
---
Jin Ling’s best uncle wiped the blood from Sandu’s blade with a satisfied smile. It had not been hard to track down the dismally unprepared would-be-assassin. The fool had not even made it past the first flight of Jinlintai’s stairs before the Jiang Sect contingent had surrounded him. There had been some argument, some light begging, but Jiang Cheng had seen to it that a message would be sent to whatever deluded mastermind still thought that poisoning the young Sect Leader Jin would be any easier, now that he had one fewer uncle.
Sandu had just sung the soft song of being resheathed when Jin Ling made a whimpering noise in the bed. Fairy, lounging on a corner of the blanket, raised her head and let out a gentle whuff of concern. Jiang Cheng turned his head to look at his nephew, his face settling into its typical scowl. “Are you awake?”
Jin Ling’s lips pursed. “Jiujiu?” He sounded raspy. According to Lan Sizhui and his friends, Jin Ling had spent most of his waking hours throwing up the night before. Seeing that his eyes were still closed, Jiang Cheng let his face relax and reached for the small jug of water that sat on a table by the bed.
“Drink this.” He lay Sandu on the sheets and reached over to pull Jin Ling into a sitting position. “You look terrible.”
His nephew opened one eye and fixed him with a harrowing glare that Jiang Cheng considered himself at least partly responsible for training. Its effect was only slightly dampened by the heavy circles under Jin Ling’s eyes and the unhealthy redness of his cheeks. “That’s all you have to say?” the younger man croaked.
“The problem has been taken care of. Next time, get one of your friends to test the cup first.”
“Jiujiu!” Jin Ling’s eyes flashed open. “They’re my friends!”
“And you’re a Sect Leader! If they are your friends they should be willing to protect you!”
Jin Ling batted the cup of water away and pouted. He seemed so much like Wei Wuxian sometimes… Jiang Cheng shook his head. It would not do to dwell on that other uncle. “A-Ling, you should be more careful. We caught the person who laced the cup with poison this time, and it was easy enough to heal you with the help of the Lans, but they will not always be here.” Though if the rumors surrounding the relatively common occurrence of Jin Ling’s “friends” at Jinlintai were true—Jiang Cheng squelched that thought and fixed a deeper scowl on his face.
The blanket was being twisted in Jin Ling’s lap, a small dark spot spreading where the water had spilled. Jin Ling’s hands clenched and unclenched, squeezing the dampness out regardless of the futility. An invisible hand clutched at Jiang Cheng’s heart. A-Ling is so young, younger than I was when I started. “Who was it?” his nephew asked, looking past the foot of the bed, where Suihua lay on a gold-enameled rack, a reminder of the past glories of the Jin sect.
Jiang Cheng cleared his throat. “Just some nobody. You wouldn’t know them. They saw an opportunity with the Cultivation Conference and the influx of servants.”
“Name?”
“Ah—” Jiang Cheng hesitated, clearing his throat again. “A minor Jin, distant cousin of your grandfather, some times removed.”
Jin Ling turned his head and this time the stare was full of all his father’s haughtiness. “Jiujiu, why won’t you give me a name?”
“Fine! Jin Sheng! Do with it what you will, he won’t hurt you again!” Jiang Cheng leaned over and grabbed Sandu from the bed before jumping to his feet. “Get some sleep!”
Jin Ling collapsed against his pillows. His eyes seemed to sink further into his flushed face. Jiang Cheng wondered, belatedly, if he should have spent more time talking to his nephew after the events of Guanyin Temple. There had just been so much to deal with. He let his hand clench on Sandu and turned to go.
“I used to play with his grandson,” Jin Ling said suddenly. His voice was quiet. “He was kind to Fairy. I don’t—I didn’t think—”
What could he say to that? How could Jiang Cheng lighten the burden of the knowledge that for some people, family was worth betraying friendships for? He shrugged and jerkingly reached for Jin Ling’s shoulder, gave it a quick squeeze. “Go back to sleep. Healers said it would take a few days before you feel normal again.”
He left, not looking back, not wanting to see whether Jin Ling’s strength held or crumpled.
---
Based on the scrutiny Ouyang Zizhen was giving his newly assigned guard, it would not be long before the wedding invitation would arrive and Jin Ling would have to arrange another overly grand event. He stared at the back of Zizhen’s head for another minute, before giving up and throwing a wadded up ball of paper at his friend.
“Oy, Jin Ling, I was just making sure your guards were up to the task!” Zizhen protested, untwisting his torso and pouting. “Where did your uncle say they came from?”
Jin Ling glanced at the tall, rugged cultivator in robes marked with the deepest purple of the Jiang sect. “Yunmeng Jiang. Jiujiu said he would feel more comfortable if I had some of his own guards here.” He rolled his eyes. “As if the Jin sect is incapable of protecting their own leader.”
“But I mean - where in Yunmeng?” Zizhen leaned forward with his chin in his hands. “They’re so tall. And muscle-y.”
“Zizhen, are you here to ogle my guards or to help me figure out what to do about the failed night hunt? The Feng sect is closer to Baling Ouyang than Lanling, but they asked us for help instead of your father. And I think they’re too scared to ask jiujiu.” Jin Ling rubbed his temples, willing the budding headache away. “If you’re here to ogle the guards, I can send you all away and handle this myself.”
Sizhui looked up from the scroll he was reading and his brow creased. “Is your head still bothering you?”
“Only because no one is listening to me!” Jin Ling snapped. He regretted it instantly when Sizhui put the scroll down and crossed the short distance to kneel in front of him. A cool hand touched his forehead. He pushed it away. “I’m fine, Sizhui, I’m not going to collapse again.”
Sizhui arched an eyebrow. “You have only been out of bed since this morning. You would be no good to anyone if you relapsed out of sheer idiocy.”
Jin Ling stuck his tongue out. “I will collapse out of sheer boredom if no one lets me do anything.”
Zizhen, who had been scanning a map, sighed. “Jiang-zongzhu asked us to take care of the matter and leave you here.” His cheeks colored when Jingyi sat up from where he had been sprawled, idly petting Fairy, and glared. “I couldn’t lie—”
“He what?!” Jin Ling spluttered. “But I’m Sect Leader—he has no right!”
“He’s your uncle! And he’s Jiang-zongzhu and he waved Zidian at us,” Zizhen protested. “So I’m just making sure the guards are going to be able to take care of you if we are gone for a few days.”
Jingyi was frowning so Jin Ling turned his stare at him. “You know, I’ll probably be safer with all of you. If I’m not in one place, no one will know where to send assassins….” Surely, of all of his friends, Jingyi would understand.
His heart fell when Jingyi shook his head. “Wei-qianbei also told us to keep you safe.” The two Lans exchanged a glance that Jin Ling couldn’t read. It was probably something about the idea of Wei Wuxian having anything like good judgment. At least, that was what Jin Ling would be trying to communicate. “Besides, it won’t take us long to put down the fierce corpses, especially if we don’t have to worry about any lasting effects of the poison.”
Sizhui patted his shoulder. “The healers did say it would take longer for your qi to settle.”
“I’m fine!” Jin Ling wailed. “Maybe I should let you all drink my wine the next time my cup is poisoned.” And then, maybe, that would shut up at least the Lans. He sighed and put his head down on the scroll Zizhen was trying to read. Fairy trotted over from where Jingyi had rudely abandoned her and shoved her head in his lap. “I’m not an invalid.”
“No one is saying you are,” Sizhui said. His hand dropped from Jin Ling’s shoulder to Jin Ling’s lap-a squeak rose in Jin Ling’s throat-no, to Fairy’s head in Jin Ling’s lap. “It’s just that we can’t be sure that you’re entirely recovered, the Feng sect has already had problems with the corpses, and there are too many variables.” Fairy, the traitor, flopped onto her back and forced Jin Ling to sit up straight where he could see Sizhui’s best imitation of a puppy. “So it will really make us all feel much better if you are here with your uncle’s most trusted guards.”
Jin Ling hmmphed. “What, so I’m under house arrest until you all come back?”
His friends had the decency to look guilty at that. “Well, it’s a big house—” Jingyi started.
The scroll Jin Ling threw hadn’t been intended to bounce off Sizhui and hit all three of the other cultivators, but Jin Ling couldn’t find it in himself to be sorry. Fairy wiggled off his lap and whined at the disruptive clatter. Jin Ling stumbled to his feet, tripping over Fairy’s irate tail, and stormed off.
---
“Well?” Jiang Cheng shoved the newest pile of reports to the side of his desk and sat back, his fingers drumming impatiently as he waited for Jiang Fangchen to start speaking. His Head Disciple looked uncharacteristically nervous.
“Jiang-zongzhu, we have had two more attempts. Jiang Lianhua apprehended two men in the inner courtyards of Jinlintai yesterday, Jiang Liying caught someone bringing poisoned darts into the courtyard -” she paused for breath, fingering the hilt of her sword before continuing. “Jin-zongzhu has not left the palace since Jiang Lianhua reported to me. He has one guard inside his quarters with him at all times, two more stationed outside his door. The dog has not left his side. He was seen arguing with his friends yesterday. I—”
Jiang Cheng put up his hand. “Enough.” He rose, swinging the fall of his cloak behind him as he strode to the door. Jiang Fangchen hurried to follow him, her long legs matching his strides with ease. “How did any of these people make it that far into the inner palace?”
His Head Disciple made a noncommittal noise in her throat. Jiang Cheng quirked an eyebrow at her. “I do not wish to speak ill of our hosts-”
He snorted. “They would not do us the same courtesy. But.” He stopped in his tracks and peered at her from his slight height advantage. “You think that Jin Rulan cannot trust his own guards?”
She looked discomfited. “I thought- did you not think that also when you assigned the Jiang sect’s finest disciples to guard him?”
“I know that very few of the Jin sect can match our disciples when it comes to vigilance.” Jiang Cheng sighed. He knew he was hard on his disciples, but he knew it paid off. No one dared bother Lotus Pier, not even on the rare occasion when the infamous Yiling Laozu deigned to visit. “But, yes, I had my doubts. These men we captured, are they acting on their own? Are they bribing the guards?” He strode forward again, taking the turn that would lead to the dungeons.
“One of the men … succumbed to his injuries,” Jiang Fangchen said. She sounded a little wistful. “One of the men has been naming Jin Sheng, but there is something in his voice that sounds false. The other has been silent. We were thinking that he might be more responsive to,” her gaze dropped to Jiang Cheng’s wrist, where Zidian caught the light, “more aggressive techniques.”
Jiang Cheng felt his stomach drop. It was not that he felt guilty about how he had relied on Zidian in the past, nor that he felt regret about what he had done. It was simply that he hated the necessity. That despite everything, they had not progressed past a need for first class spiritual weapons and interrogations. His face twisted into a scowl and he nodded, walking further into the darkness. The dungeons of Jinlintai were hidden, a far cry from the gilt and shine of the rest of the Jin sect’s trappings. Not unlike the stubborn outliers of his nephew’s family, quietly sowing disarray.
“Keep an eye on Jin-zongzhu,” he said as he walked away, unsheathing Sandu. A little bit of intimidation would not hurt. “Jiang Fangchen, do not let him, or Fairy, out of your sight.”
---
Two days after Ouyang Zizhen, Lan Sizhui, and Lan Jingyi departed for their night hunt, taking with them a good tenth of the Jin sect’s cultivators and leaving Jin Ling surrounded by jiujiu’s sternest and least bribable guards, Jin Ling despaired of ever being allowed to leave the palace again. The gall of it, really. To keep Sect Leader Jin under house arrest for his protection when his friends were out seeing to what might be the largest infestation of fierce corpses since the Sunshot Campaign. Jin Ling would never admit to pouting, but he felt like no one should blame him if he did.
He leaned against the railing of the balcony outside his chambers, an anonymous Jiang-sect cultivator leaning against the interior wall and Jin Weihu patrolling below him. In the distance, he could see the dim light of the sun on the horizon, its rays painting the long walkways red and gold. Fairy lolled at his feet, occasionally perking up as smells from the kitchens drifted by. Jin Ling let his fingers tap out a rhythm on the railing, thinking that maybe he should ask Sizhui for a lesson in playing guqin so that he could have something to do the next time his jiujiu decided he was incapable of defending himself. Or maybe he could take up Zizhen’s hobby of writing romance novels under a pseudonym. Or do whatever it was Jingyi did when he was not doing handstands and copying rules. He sighed. As far as he could tell, even his normally useless da-jiujiu was being useful and accompanying Hanguang Jun on a fact-finding mission of the nearby sects.
He felt perfectly fine, and if it stung a little bit that apparently his distant cousins and relatives he had never even met or thought about wanted him dead, he couldn’t let that bother him. Surely, this was just normal sect leader business. He supposed that all of the other sect leaders had probably come into power with some measure of peace (well, most definitely not jiuji) and that quite possibly he was wrong in his assessment of normal, but nevertheless, it stung.
Fairy nudged at his legs and looked up at him, her tail wagging. He realized that the sun had set fully, and the cultivators below him were in the process of changing guard. He turned to go into his chambers and stare at a scroll for a few more minutes before giving up, but Fairy tangled herself around his feet.
“What is it, Fairy?” he knelt to scratch her behind her ears. “Are you bored? I’m bored. We can’t go out, though, or jiujiu will yell about breaking our legs again.” She pushed her nose into his hand. “He won’t actually do it, though, but if he doesn’t get to yell it, I worry he will go into a qi deviation.”
Fairy ignored him and pushed past him to stick her head through the balcony railings. She wagged her tail vigorously and barked once.
“What is it? Do you see something?”
The Jiang sect cultivator, Jiang Fangchen, Jin Ling thought her name was, stuck her head out onto the balcony. “Jin-zongzhu, what is it?”
Jin Ling peered as far as he could into the distance. Fairy’s barks were turning into whines. “I can’t tell. She sees something, and I think she wants to go to it.”
Fairy was wiggling herself past through the railing. For such a fat (“big-boned,” he heard jiujiu’s voice insisting in his head) dog, she seemed to be mostly made of fluff and was quickly through.
“Fairy!” She hopped down from the railing onto the roof below and clambered her way down to the ground. Jin Ling hissed in frustration. “Wait-”
He hesitated an extra moment before swirling into his bedroom and grabbing Suihua off the rack. Jiang Fangchen made a valiant effort to respectfully grab him (he saw the hesitation in her arm as she tried to block his way), but years of roughhousing with Zizhen and Jingyi had honed his dodging abilities. In the span of ten seconds, he had leaped off the balcony with an apologetic yell over his shoulder and mounted Suihua. He could see Fairy’s light brown and white form in the city street, but couldn’t make out what she was chasing.
He squinted and crouched on the sword, flying low. If he turned his head, he could see the Jiang sect’s cultivators in the distance. A smile crept onto his face. Well, since he was out here anyway, might as well have some fun. He dove lower into the streets and the shadows, his energies focused on the pursuit.
It took him a moment to register the sting in his neck and to realize that Suihua had stuttered to a stop beneath him. By then, he was wobbling unsteadily and tilting into the shadows. He fell.
---
When Jiang Cheng received the first of the Jin messenger butterflies, he sent the first cultivator he saw to recall the Jin cultivators and the triad of Jin Ling’s friends from their night hunt. When he received the second of the messenger butterflies, followed closely by a panting and empty-handed Jiang Fangchen, he sent word to the Chief Cultivator and his husband. When he received the third, Zidian crackled out in a purple light and struck the twitching figure of Jin Laoying.
“Where is he?” Jiang Cheng’s voice was closer to a growl than words. “Where did you take him?”
The miserable Jin traitor moaned, but kept his mouth shut. If anything, Jiang Cheng grudgingly admitted that at least this one seemed well-trained, if loyal to the wrong master.
“Do you know what you have done? The impertinence of your actions. To abduct a sect leader is to sow discord and bring trouble to the people protected by the Jin sect.” Jiang Cheng held his fist up, making sure Zidian loomed in the man’s eyeline. “Tell me where he is and I can spare your life.”
Jin Laoying spat blood and laughed. “He’s with his idiot dog. Where you won’t find him. When the Jiang sect leaves Lanling and when the other sects leave us be, we will let him go.” The other man sagged in the chains that bound him. “Didn’t you get the messages?”
Jiang Cheng had heard the messages, or mostly, got the gist of it over the screaming in his ears when he’d realized that something had gone very wrong. At some point, by the third message, warning him of what was to happen if he failed to act, the screaming had turned into something like the soft laughter of his mother, telling him that once again he was not good enough. Wei Wuxian would be able to protect his own nephew. It was at that point that he had run back to the dungeons, where he had left Jin Laoying unconscious, and resumed questioning.
It would take a day at least before Lan Wangji could arrive. Longer, even, if Wei Wuxian was accompanying him on the donkey. He just had to keep Jin Ling alive until then. Unless the traitors were lying and his nephew was already dead. Jiang Cheng did not want to consider that possibility.
He struck Jin Laoying with the flat of his hand, leaving a mark on his face from where Zidian wrapped around his fingers. “I do not have time for this.” He gestured at Jiang Fangchen standing behind him. “Bring the healers, have them concoct a truth serum, a poison, anything to get him to talk.”
Jiang Fangchen nodded. “Yes, Jiang-zongzhu. What will you do?”
“Find my nephew.”
---
He couldn’t move. His neck ached from being bent in half, but when he tried to straighten it, a resounding thud was all Jin Ling got for his efforts. He cursed. His arms were wrapped around his folded knees and bound and he was uncomfortable dammit. He tried to expand his shoulders from their hunched position and could feel the walls of the (box? barrel? coffin?) that encased him. He stank of wine, so odds were he was in a cask.
Jin Ling closed his eyes, which didn’t achieve anything, really, because he was already in darkness, but years of meditation had tied the closing of his eyes with the clearing of his mind. His breath, which he tried to still, to return to a rhythm not too different from the lapping of waves on the coast, caught in his throat. It was too quiet. He reached for his golden core, tried to extend his senses beyond his cage. It slipped from his grasp. He bit his lip, trying again. He had not worked this hard since he was a child first learning to form a core.
It was there but he couldn’t do anything with it. He shuddered, the memories of the last time he had felt like this coursing through his mind in the darkness. When even Zewu-jun had been left helpless without the use of his core. Jin Ling opened his eyes and exhaled in a hiss. So. He was trapped in a barrel without enough space for his limbs to be of any use and currently without the ability to do anything beyond the usual human ability. At least he could breathe. His captors, whoever they were, were at least that thoughtful.
“Whoever they were” Jin Ling imagined his uncle snorting in disgust. Of course, it was plainly obvious who the captors would be. Hadn’t he just recovered from a poisoning attempt? He clutched his knees harder. It wasn’t as if it was his fault that any of this had happened. Why couldn’t they just leave him be?
He wanted his sword. Jin Ling forced down the whimper that was threatening to emerge from his lips by biting his bottom lip almost hard enough to break skin. He wanted his sword, his father’s sword. How dare they take Suihua away.
He brought his head up against the lid so that it thudded dully. Not loud enough. He tried again, harder. He tried pounding his head against the lid, hard enough that his head ached. His pulse thundered in his ears. He stopped, trying to listen. Maybe if Fairy could hear him…
There was a snuffling from beyond the darkness and a bark.
“Fairy?” His voice was hoarse. “Fairy! Can you hear me?”
Scratches and more whuffing. He couldn’t tell if she was bound or hurt or where she was but she was alive and she was there.
“Fairy! Can you get free? Can you get jiujiu?” Jin Ling tried to throw his weight against the confines in the direction of the exterior noises. The barrel bruised his shoulder but shifted slightly. He did it again, hissing as the impact jarred his teeth together. The barrel made a scraping sound.
He could hear Fairy’s paws scratching and a series of short barks. The noises came closer and then stopped abruptly and she whined. Ah, so she was bound.
He renewed his efforts, something not far from desperation powering each shove. If he could either topple or shift the barrel close enough to Fairy…
“Fairy, speak,” Jin Ling commanded. Her responding bark was close. He gave one another shove, wincing as the pain thudded dully in his shoulder. There was a scrabbling on the outside of the barrel. “Good girl, Fairy. Now push!”
He felt her draw back and he launched himself in the same direction, with what little space he had to wind up. The two impacts landed at the same time and Jin Ling’s world heaved once more. The crash against the hard floor left him breathless and he tasted blood. Blinking the stars from his eyes, his lips tightened into a grim smile. The crash had left the barrel (god, it really was a wine barrel, wasn’t it?) cracked. He pried the remaining boards apart with his fingers before lurching out of the wreckage.
Fairy whined softly and padded over to lick his face. Despite himself, he laughed. “Good girl, shh.” No doubt the commotion would bring his captors running down soon. And without his sword, or—he winced— his golden core, he couldn’t imagine facing off with whatever malevolent distant Jin cousins were responsible for this current predicament.
He made quick work of the rope that was binding Fairy (not even a chain, just a rope tied so that it was no match for opposable thumbs) and surveyed his surroundings. The options for escape were sparse. He was clearly in a wine cellar with one entrance and exit. He bit his lip and dug his fingers into Fairy’s warm coat while he thought. As he stood considering his dwindling pool of options, several loud thuds and footsteps sounded somewhere above him, growing louder and clearer. Well. That certainly complicated things.
---
Jiang Cheng drummed his fingers impatiently on the hilt of his sword. Across the room, Lan Wangji stood impassively, his face as blank and unreadable as usual. As though he did not have a nephew by marriage currently missing, presumed still alive. Jiang Cheng scowled. Did the esteemed Hanguang-jun even claim Jin Ling as his nephew? Or did that man’s famous disdain for the Jiang sect extend as far as the children left orphaned by his husband? Jin Ling had stabbed Wei Wuxian after all, and Jiang Cheng knew that Lan Wangji did not let go.
A bevy of disciples in Lan white and Jiang purple mingled in the courtyard. The deep red of the Baling Ouyang sect heir’s robes were stark in a cluster of white. Jin gold was conspicuously sparse, though that was possibly because Jiang Cheng had swept through the halls and questioned every disciple he could find. Somewhere, in the distance, he could hear the high warble of a dizi. He tamped down the rising tension in his gut.
Jin Ling’s two Lans and Ouyang Zizhen detached themselves from the crowd and swept into perfunctory but sufficient bows before him. He grunted his acknowledgement and arched his eyebrow at the Chief Cultivator, who seemed content to leave his disciples.
“Jiang-zongzhu, we tracked Fairy as far as we could into the city, but her trail went cold,” Lan Sizhui’s face was wretched. “This one should not have allowed himself to be distracted by the night hunt and stayed to protec—”
Jiang Cheng shook his head. More violently than he meant to. “Sect Leader Jin’s protection should not depend on the Lans.” Nor the Jiangs. “But - whose protection he falls under is not a topic of debate. My disciples lost him” the words came out in a hiss “not far into the city, so if our knowledge is combined.”
“Lanling cannot be that big,” Lan Jingyi, pronounced. “We should just go knocking door to door. Surely not everyone here hates Jin Ling.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And with Wei-qianbei’s help, it won’t be that long, and I am sure Jin Ling is not helpless.”
“Are you sure we should not attempt to communicate with the kidnappers, Jiang-zongzhu?” this from Ouyang Zizhen, who looked characteristically worried. “Even if we do not intend to work with them, maybe if we draw them out—”
A clatter arose, followed by an, “Ayah! Lan Zhan! Tell A-Cheng I know where he is!”
---
In hindsight, engaging even a handful of disciples of middling power while he himself was swordless was not the wisest decision Jin Ling had ever made.
It was perhaps as bad as the time he and Jingyi had once consumed more than enough wine after last year’s Discussion Conference and attempted to set fire to Sect Leader Yao’s robes by throwing flaming peanuts from a roof. Sizhui had already fallen asleep and Zizhen had taken that moment to distract his father, so Jingyi and Jin Ling had been left to their own devices. Sect Leader Yao, unfortunately, became rather belligerent when drunk and he had also consumed more than enough wine and had nearly drawn on them when he discovered the direction of the peanuts. Lan Wangji had had to get involved, words were exchanged with Jiang Cheng and in the end, it had been a miserable experience and Jin Ling regretted everything the next morning, including the hangover.
Jin Ling had managed to disarm one of the traitors (who still wore Jin gold, he noted with an extra level of annoyance) and was now fending off two more using a combination of Wei Wuxian’s unarmed fighting tricks and the only-slightly-less-effective-without-his-core bladework that he had grown up using. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew there were probably more waiting up the stairs, waiting for him to tire himself out or make a mistake or get distracted.
In a moment between kicking the knees out from under traitor number two and rolling out of the way of traitor number three (they at least seemed to be trying to subdue him and not kill him), Jin Ling pulled at the tiny glimmer of his core that he could sense. It hurt but it was enough. Whatever they had done to him - it was temporary and it was slowly, painfully fading. He sent the thread of energy toward Fairy, who was valiantly harrowing traitor number three (he looked awfully familiar, maybe one of those Jins who liked to come to audiences and frown in the background at every decision he made).
If he could buy her time to wiggle her way out of the basement and past the others - she could get him help. Fairy, go! He tackled traitor number three, ignoring the painful crack in his ribs as the other’s elbow collided with his side. Traitor number two had recovered and Jin Ling threw himself to the side, pulling number three atop him, attempting to avoid the sword hilt aiming for his head. He saw the black and white and gray blur slipping up the stairs and let himself smile. Fairy was smart. They would not catch her again.
There was a clambering upstairs, yells. A few sharp barks and more angry yells. Traitor number one had finally picked himself up off the floor and regained his sword. Jin Ling growled and kicked and wrenched himself out of the grasp of his captors, panting as he crouched with his back against the wall.
“What do you want?” he spat, swallowing hard as all three traitors advanced on him. “Do you want me dead? Why don’t you just kill me?”
Traitor number one (who Jin Ling finally recognized as Jin Zhilong, from the outer guard) gestured with his head. The other two moved forward to pin Jin Ling’s arms at his side. Jin Ling saw with some satisfaction that they both at least seemed to be wincing as much as he was. “We do not wish to continue the unnecessary killings to protect the leadership of the Jin sect. But -” Jin Zhilong pointed his sword at Jin Ling’s throat. “If your uncles require some… incentive… to pass control toward the rightful leaders …”
Jin Ling bristled and straightened. The hands on his arms tightened. “Mind your words, Jin Zhilong. I am the son of Jin Zixuan. I was—” his throat caught on the words raised by Lianfang-zun “I was raised at the court and I am as much a member of the Jin as anyone here.”
“You are a brat. Raised by the brother of a traitor and a murderer. Too much bad blood runs in your veins - grandson of Jin Guanshan, nephew of Jin Guangyao - nothing but trouble has come out of that line.”
“My father—”
“Your father died, killed by his own naivete.”
“Jin Zhilong!” Jin Ling launched himself forward, struggling against the hold on his arms. His chest ached and he tasted blood. “You!”
The traitor sneered. “You are nothing without your father’s sword, Jin Ling.” He nodded at his subordinates. “It will not be long. Your stupid dog was caught once and we will catch her again. And your uncle and the sect leaders will either acquiesce to our demands. Or, well, I suppose we shall have to make one final sacrifice for the good of the sect.”
Anger burbled up in Jin Ling’s throat. He tore and tore at the fading bonds on his core. He could feel the energy responding, white-hot, angry. He felt warmth on his upper lip, realized he could taste blood. His vision blurred as he struggled forward. Pain shot through his knee. The stone floor lurched in his eyes. At some point he had fallen to the floor, dragging the two traitors with him. His shoulders strained.
“Jiang Cheng will never allow you to do this.” His voice was hoarse. He spat blood. “They will find you and make you pay.”
“Ah, that’s the Jin Ling I remember. Always, saying ‘my jiujiu will do this, my jiujiu will do that.’ You think you can lead this sect?” Jin Zhilong’s face loomed close as he tilted Jin Ling’s chin up. A slap. “You are weak, Jin Ling. You rely on your uncles too much. Poor, motherless, fatherless child.” There was a loud noise, a roaring growing in the background. Jin Zhilong cast a look over his shoulder, annoyance plain on his features. “Sleep, now, little pretender. There is no point in you being awake.”
His fingers jabbed into Jin Ling’s forehead and darkness blossomed.
---
They were - they had been - so close to not needing Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian had led them to a remote alley in the south of Lanling, far enough for Jiang Cheng to see how the trail might have gone cold, especially in the pouring rain that had inauspiciously started to fall. Mud and rainwater splattered their robes, the Lan disciples somehow still pristine in their white and blues. Meanwhile, at the end of the alley, Wei Wuxian was crouching in a puddle. Typical.
Jiang Cheng waited, his arms crossed, staring at the familiar but unfamiliar figure who seemed content to ignore the attention. Lan Wangji was speaking to Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui, who both nodded and split up, scanning the walls of the alleyway. Ouyang Zizhen hovered anxiously over Wei Wuxian, almost acting as an umbrella for the older man. Older, but not, in reality — Jiang Cheng shook his head, spraying water droplets. Now was not the time to think about that particular issue.
“What are you looking at, Wei-qianbei?” Ouyang Zizhen was saying. The lanky youth bent in half to peer at the mud. “Is there a footprint?”
Wei Wuxian poked at the mud with a long finger. “Nothing so obvious, but tell me, what do you feel?”
Jiang Cheng moved closer, ostensibly to scan the rooftops at the end of the alley. He let his mind sink into his senses, trying to discern whatever it was Wei Wuxian was clearly interested in. He felt it at the same time that Ouyang Zizhen yelped. Wei Wuxian stood up and smoothly pulled a talisman from his robes, plastering it against the wall. It flared with and then turned black and crumbled.
Jiang Cheng shuddered, trying to erase the awful feeling of emptiness that he had brushed against. The painfully familiar nothingness, the desperate pull at something that was not there. He realized he was gasping for air and leaning against the wall of the alley. He forced his shoulders back, straightened. Ignored the look Wei Wuxian was throwing at him. It was because of him that the feeling was nothing more than a memory.
“What is that?” he hissed through clenched teeth. Ouyang Zizhen looked pale next to him, the two Lans having returned from their investigations to support him. “What can do that?”
“It’s an externalization of the core-sealing that can be done, but someone’s modified the talisman so that it works without consent.” Wei Wuxian tapped his nose. “I used to use it to keep things calm in the Burial Mounds.” Some faint faraway expression crossed his face. “But now, apparently, someone is using it to set some kind of perimeter.”
“Perimeter? So he’s here?” Jiang Cheng clenched his fist and felt the reassuring crackle of Zidian at his side. He drew back his arm, preparing to knock the wall down. This was enough time spent staring at nothing. “Wei Wuxian, move your—”
A flurry of barks behind them interrupted. Jiang Cheng whirled. He knew those barks. A muddy and wet figure loped towards them.
Lan Jingyi let out a cry and ran to embrace the dog, heedless of his robes. Out of the corner of his eye, Jiang Cheng saw Wei Wuxian press himself against the wall. He rolled his eyes and stepped forward, to block Fairy from sight.
“There’s blood, Jiang-zongzhu!” Some more barks. “But it’s not hers. Fairy, where’s Jin Ling?”
“Not here,” Wei Wuxian spoke up. He seemed to have slightly regained control of himself now that Fairy was restrained. “The talisman’s residue is fading. They’ve moved on.”
“Right. So we’ll follow Fairy. And if they’ve hurt him—” A hand on his shoulder stopped the next few words from Jiang Cheng’s mouth. He looked at the hand, a forgotten gesture, a warmth at once foreign and familiar.
“We’ll make them pay,” Wei Wuxian said quietly. Jiang Cheng could only nod.
---
He had no memories of his parents. He had his uncles, a grandfather, guards. Eventually he had Fairy. But when Jin Ling dreamed of family, he dreamed of purple robes, angry and distant, always distant. He dreamed of golden robes, torn and bloodstained. Always bloodstained.
Clashing steel and shouts broke through the haze of nightmare. His head throbbed as he forced his eyes open and tilted his head up. His shoulder screamed at the movement. He was bound again, his arms twisted behind him. A disgusting cloth had been shoved in his mouth and he fought against the urge to gag on the fabric.
A light pierced the shadows of the room he was in. Still the basement, then. He squinted against the brightness and the pounding in his head, kicked at the floor with his feet, trying to make noise. If there was shouting and steel above, then that meant Fairy had probably found someone. Good Fairy. Faithful Fairy.
White and cool blue filled his sight and the gag was blessedly pulled from his mouth. “A-Ling!” He found himself falling forward to arms. “Oh, your arms. Your head—” The arms wrapped around him and started to work at the ropes that bound him. “You’re fine now. Your uncle— I mean, your uncles, I guess, they’re upstairs—”
“Sizhui?” Jin Ling’s voice was muffled, hoarse. “Is Fairy okay?”
There were urgent footsteps and flurry of movement. The world took on a haze of light. Jin Ling blinked and the blue and white had been replaced by a solid wall of purple fabric. He blinked again. He had not been this close to jiujiu since he was a child.
“Fairy is fine. Fairy is good.” Jiang Cheng’s voice was gruff. “We’ve taken care of the traitors. We’ll take you home.”
Jin Ling tried to say more but his words were choked in his throat by something warm and awfully emotional. He let his head fall into the warmth. This time, when the dreams overtake him, he dreams of a childhood in the lotus ponds and splashes of purple.
---
For the second time in too short of an interval, Jiang Cheng looked down at the unconscious face of his sister’s son and wiped blood from his blade. Bruises bloomed around the youth’s temple. A cut left a pale line across the skin. He was healing, yes, but slowly. Whatever that talisman had done to his core took some time to fade. Jiang Cheng put Sandu down on his lap and reached for Jin Ling’s hand. A little extra help would not hurt.
Jin Ling stirred. Jiang Cheng dropped the hand he had absently been gently rubbing as he channeled spiritual energy.
“Jiujiu?” He could see the bleary confusion in his nephew’s eyes clearing. Jin Ling raised his head off the pillow before sinking down as his body betrayed him. “Where’s Sizhui? Fairy?” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Why am I dizzy?”
“You have a concussion. From taking on several Jin inner disciples at once. Without your core.” Jiang Cheng hoped that at least some of his pride came through his words. “Lan Sizhui is waiting outside with your other… friends. And Fairy.” Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan had waited until the healers had declared Jin Ling recovering and then Wei Wuxian had muttered something about Jin sect politics before haring off to who knows where. Jiang Cheng had only half attempted to restrain him.
“My core—” Jin Ling’s hand went to his lower torso in a gesture that was achingly familiar. “It’s—”
“It’s recovering.” Jiang Cheng met his nephew’s eyes. “Trust me. You will be fine.”
“Jiujiu, I—” Jin Ling clenched his jaw. It was another familiar gesture and Jiang Cheng looked away. How many of his mannerisms had Jin Ling learned over the years. “Thank you. For rescuing me.” The last words were strangled.
“Jin Ling. A-Ling. You do not need to thank me.” He leaned over the bed. “It was Fairy who brought us to you. You helped her escape and fought. Well, you fought.”
Jin Ling’s face was pale. “But, you had to come. I had to rely on you. Again. Everyone says—”
“What does it matter what everyone says?” Jiang Cheng slammed his fist on the coverlet. “One against many? It was an unfair fight. No one could have fought their way out alone with the odds stacked how they were! Not without their core!” He shoved down the voice in his mind eagerly reminding him of the one person who might have.
Jin Ling clenched the sheet. “Everything I am. Has been. Because of you.” The unspoken other uncle filled the silence. “If this is why they keep trying. To kill me. Then maybe you should go. Maybe I should do this alone.”
Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “I am not even here that much, Jin-zongzhu.” A little reminder was probably good. “Their perception of you is tainted by their bias against you. Ask your friends, ask someone at random in Lanling.” He stood, sheathing Sandu. “You have handled your responsibilities well and if others choose to believe the circumstances of your birth disqualify you. That is their problem.” He strode toward the door. It was their problem. And now that he had handled them, it had been the last problem they’d ever had.
---
“He’s right, you know.”
Jin Ling strained his neck to look at Jingyi. The Lan was sprawled on his stomach somewhere on the floor of his chambers behind him, his hands buried deep in Fairy’s fur. Jin Ling, for his part, was lying on his back, his head pillowed on Fairy’s flank.
“Who’s right? Please don’t say jiujiu.” He tapped out a rhythm on his chest with his fingers. “He doesn’t need more people telling him he’s right.”
“Then I won’t say anything!” Jingyi rolled over. “I mean, I will, because you need to get over it and stop moping and—”
“A-Yi,” said Sizhui from his much more composed position on the bed. He had a scroll in his hand. “I think Jin Ling knows what he needs to do.” He put the scroll down. From Jin Ling’s disadvantaged viewpoint it seemed to be some kind of marriage announcement. “And I do not think us yelling at him about it will help.”
“I’m not yelling!” Jingyi sat up indignantly. “I’m just saying!”
Jin Ling sighed and also sat up. Fairy rumbled and plopped into the newly presented lap. He started scratching her ears. “Have I been moping?”
“You haven’t been yourself.” Zizhen emerged from the balcony. He had been… staring at more guards? No, there was ink on his hands, and he too was carrying a scroll. “Father says you’ve been quieter at meetings lately.”
“I have? I mean, I’ve just been thinking more—”
“No, you’ve been second guessing yourself more!” Jingyi positioned himself nearer so that he could resume petting Fairy. He looked like he was going to say more, but his eyes darted to Sizhui, who had resumed reading, or at least holding the scroll up.
“A-Ling,” Sizhui said, after a moment. “You must govern with confidence in your decisions. As yourself.”
Jin Ling bristled. “How can you—” He bit his lip. Of course, Sizhui had been training to be the sect heir for longer than he had. “But I do.”
“Not recently. Not since,” Jingyi shrugged, clearly indicating the assassination attempts with the wince on his face. “It’s like they said something to you and then your uncle gave you advice and then you decided Jiang-zongzhu was wrong and they were right?”
Zizhen made some affirmative noise from where he was now… drawing? “Jingyi is right. And Jiang-zongzhu is right.”
“What are you even doing?” Jin Ling snapped. Zizhen paused, then held up the scroll, on which a drawing of a dog was taking shape. Jin Ling stared.
“Is that supposed to be Fairy?”
Zizhen laughed. “What other wonder dog would we be planning a celebration for?” He dropped to his knees and joined Jingyi in providing admittedly deserved attention to said wonder dog, whose tongue was lolling happily.
“I’m not even going to ask. Sizhui, are you helping them?” He stared at Sizhui until the scroll descended. Sizhui’s ears were pink when he met his gaze.
“We thought it would cheer you up,” he admitted. “It will just be us! Before Jingyi and I have to go back to Cloud Recesses. But we don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”
Jin Ling buried his hands in Fairy’s fur. He forced the tension in his shoulders down. Of course they would be celebrating Fairy. As some kind of way to get his mind off things, apparently. Of course Jingyi and Sizhui and Zizhen would have decided this was the best way to cheer him up. And despite himself, he realized it was working.
“No, let’s do it.” His hands brushed against Zizhen’s and Jingyi’s as they all tried to pet Fairy at once. He felt his cheeks heat. “I’m sorry.” He was mostly speaking to Fairy. “I’ve been stupid.” He would not cry. He was past that. He would only bite his lip and refuse to meet their eyes.
Two warm heavy thuds across his back as Zizhen and Jingyi pulled him into an awkward group hug. He yelped his disapproval as Fairy slipped from between them.
“You are stupid, Jin-zongzhu, and that’s why we’re here to talk sense into you!” Jingyi said, laughing.
“You—!” Jin Ling broke the hug to tackle him and they collapsed in a pile of long arms and legs as Sizhui protested from the bed.
---
In the courtyard of Jinlintai, Jiang Cheng paused his long strides beneath his nephew’s balcony. Laughter, shouts, a few barks, and the unmistakable sounds of youths causing trouble floated down from above. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, tapping Sandu’s hilt against his chin. Sect leader business could wait.