Work Text:
Nie Huaisang hates field work, he really does. He didn’t spend years learning to craft talismans and protective charms, or gathering and maintaining a network of informants only to find himself trudging hip-deep in a marsh, ugly wading boots sloshing with each step.
Jiang Cheng looks over his shoulder and smiles at the scowl darkening his lover’s face. “I thought you wanted to spend more time with me,” he says, endeavoring to keep his tone from sounding too smug. He’s already going to pay for this little jaunt.
“So did I,” Huaisang grumbles. “I can’t remember why.” He looks up in time to see Jiang Cheng step over a fallen log, and the flex of muscles sends an uncomfortable heat through him. “Oh. Yeah.”
Jiang Cheng laughs. “You can have some fun soon. I promise this will be worth it.”
Huaisang declines to answer beyond a few more muttered curses. It was hot, humid, and decidedly unsexy, this little outing, even for Yunmeng. He generally looked forward to visiting Lotus Pier, but this was not on their usual itinerary. So absorbed in his misery, Huaisang fails to notice when Jiang Cheng stops, and he runs straight into the solid bulk of muscle. Luckily, Jiang Cheng is also nimble enough to catch Huaisang before he falls into the muddy water.
“We’re here,” he says, pointing to a house.
“Someone lives out here?” Huaisang stares at the house, little more than a hut built up on stilts squatting over the marshland.
Jiang Cheng nods. He leads Huaisang around to one side, where a short, retractable ladder rests against the railings enclosing a porch that runs along the side of the building. A small brass bell hangs from the railings, and Jiang Cheng tugs on the rope.
“No one’s home!” The voice, elderly and female, rings out over the marsh.
“Auntie! It’s Jiang Wanyin!”
A white-haired woman with a face lined like old parchment looks out over the railing, and a broad grin lights her face when she sees them.
“Little boy, you have been away for a long time,” she scolds.
Jiang Cheng bows his head and feigns shame, though the auntie clearly doesn’t buy it.
“Come up, then.”
Jiang Cheng holds the ladder as Huaisang climbs first.
“Where should I leave these muddy things, Auntie?” Huaisang asks after bowing low to her.
The old woman waves to a bench and a wooden rack. “You may leave them here, Young Master Nie.”
Huaisang startles. “You know who I am?”
The woman laughs. “I would be a very foolish woman indeed to not know the partner of my sect leader. She nods to the bench. “Go on, take off those muddy boots and come inside for tea.”
“Better do as she says.” Jiang Cheng plants a swift kiss on Huaisang’s cheek. “She’s bound to have some treats as well.”
“I might,” the woman calls from inside, “but only if you hurry.”
Huaisang is startled to see the inside of the house is comfortably, if sparsely furnished, well appointed with a large television and computer set up. He curses his inattention, only now noticing cables running through the floor, no doubt lashed to the stilts that keep the house above water. He also curses his inability to keep the surprise from his face, because the old woman laughs at his reaction.
“Surely you of all people can appreciate the power of a little mystery,” she says, ushering Huaisang and Jiang Cheng over to a low table in the center of the room.
“Huaisang, this is Luo Qian. She was a friend of my mother’s. She’s...eccentric —“
“Batty, I think most people say,” Luo Qian replies as she fills teacups for her guests. “I just like a bit of privacy is all. You may call me Auntie Luo.”
“But you’re out here alone,” Huaisang says. “What if something happens to you?”
“Bah.” She waves a hand dismissively. “My son comes by every few days. He has one of those nice little rafts.”
“We could have taken a boat?” Huaisang asks, glaring at Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng shrugs.
“I will not forget this,” Huaisang mutters.
“Now, now, let’s not fight, not until we’ve had a snack,” Auntie Luo says. She sits at the head of the table and passes around a box of almond cookies.
“Yes, Auntie,” Jiang Cheng and Huaisang chorus.
They pass a pleasant half hour chatting about sect news and dramas (Auntie, it seems, is addicted to romantic costume dramas), but Huaisang cannot puzzle out the reason for their visit. Surely if it was merely a social call, Jiang Cheng would have said so. He tries to be patient, but Auntie Luo is sharper than she appears — though of course she must be if she was a friend of Madame Yu’s. She sets her teacup aside and turns to Huaisang.
“I suppose you’re eager to see my work.”
“Yes?”
Auntie Luo glares at Jiang Cheng. “You didn’t tell him?”
Jiang Cheng shrugs. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
Auntie Luo shakes her head. “You’re lucky you’re handsome,” she says, “or I suspect you would be in very big trouble.”
“Oh, he still is,” Huaisang says, “but I might consider reducing his punishment.” He winks at Jiang Cheng. “What is your work, Auntie?”
Auntie Luo stands and goes over to her desk. She retrieves a long lacquered box and presents it to Huaisang.
“Happy anniversary, love,” Jiang Cheng says.
“It’s not our anniversary, A-Cheng.”
“Sure it is.”
“A-Cheng,” Huaisang says, setting the box down, “I think I would remember if we got married. Which we haven’t. You haven’t even proposed yet.”
“Not? You haven’t proposed?” Auntie Luo reaches over and smacks the back of Jiang Cheng’s head.
“Ouch!” Jiang Cheng rubs his scalp. “This is the anniversary of our first date!” He looks at Huaisang. “I meant to propose earlier, but your brother had to go and get engaged, and I didn’t want to start some sort of sect war by upstaging them.”
“Fucking politics,” Huaisang mutters.
Auntie Luo reaches over and smacks Huaisang. “Language, young man!”
“Sorry, Auntie.” Huaisang bows his head. “May I open this?”
“Of course,” Auntie Luo says. She sits down again and watches Huaisang’s face as he slides the lid off the box.
Huaisang gasps. Nestled on a piece of black velvet rests a fan. To an untrained eye, the simple design of black lacquered wood and forest green silk might be unimpressive, but Huaisang knows better. He lifts the fan out of the box and flicks it open with a satisfying snap! He runs his finger down the side. “Wait, is this?” His thumbnail catches on on a nearly-invisible latch.
“Take care now, until you get used to it.”
Huaisang releases the latch, and a thin, wickedly sharp dagger slides free from the handle. Power leaks from the sigils etched in the blade — the strongest protection talismans Huaisang has ever encountered. There is a matching blade on the other side of the fan, and a stout, red silk cord loops on the end. Huaisang slides the blades back into the fan, puts his hand through the loop and twirls it around his wrist. It will take some practice to get used to the added weight of the daggers so Huaisang can make the gesture look casual and innocent, but he is almost looking forward to the next night hunt. He twirls the fan once more before placing it back in its box. He bows to Auntie Luo.
“I shall endeavor to be worthy of this, Madame Luo.”
“Shh, I would be ashamed to see the partner of our Jiang Wanyin go forth without a weapon worthy of his skill. You honor me to carry it.”
Huaisang closes the box and hugs it to his chest. “Thank you.” He turns to Jiang Cheng. “And thank you.”
Jiang Cheng gives him a soft, fond smile. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for luring you out here?”
“Oh, no,” Huaisang says, winking at his lover, “but I am definitely reconsidering your punishment.”
“Oh dear, is it that late already?” Auntie Luo says, to the amusement of Huaisang and Jiang Cheng.
“We won’t impose on you any longer,” Jiang Cheng says. “Thank you for the tea and cookies.”
Jiang Cheng waits until they are in his Jeep and heading back to Lotus Pier before he raises the subject of anniversaries. “Are you really upset that we’re not married yet?”
Huaisang looks over at him from the passenger seat and smiles. “A little,” he admits. “I know you’re committed — and I am committed to you — but I do want to get married to you.”
Jiang Cheng keeps his eyes on the road ahead. “Would you be upset if I skipped the formalities of a sect betrothal and just asked you?”
“I wouldn’t mind, although da-ge might be a little miffed if you deprive him of the traditional asking for permission sort of thing. I think he is looking forward to making you fight a duel.”
“A duel?” The words come out a bit more choked than Jiang Cheng would like. “No one made him fight for Xichen-ge. Wait, should I have tried to fight Wangji for Wei Ying?”
Huaisang laughs. “Oh, my love, that would not have gone well.”
“Fair enough. But you didn’t answer my question, really. Do you want all the ceremony and tradition?”
“I most definitely want to see you in red robes,” he says, “but for the proposal? Nah, I don’t need anything fancy.”
Jiang Cheng smiles. “Then look under the padding in the box.”
Huaisang startles. “Jiang Wanyin, are you—“
“Look in the box.”
Huaisang peels back the lining of the fan box. “You complete ass!” he exclaims. He holds up a gleaming platinum band. “This is how you propose?” He smacks Jiang Cheng’s arm.
“Ow! You said you didn’t want anything fancy!”
“Yeah, but I thought you might be a little bit romantic!”
Jiang Cheng holds out a hand. “Give me the ring, then. I’ll ask you another day.”
“What? No! No way! You can pry this ring from my cold, dead hands!” He slips the ring on his finger. This, too, is imbued with protection spells. “Did you get one for yourself?”
“No.”
Huaisang grins at him and reaches in his pocket. “Give me your hand.”
“Huaisang, I’m driving.”
“Pull over, then!”
“Huaisang! Ugh, fine.” Jiang Cheng pulls off to the side of the road and cuts the engine. He holds his left hand out expectantly.
Huaisang opens the small cloth bag he had taken from his pocket, takes out a simple band of polished black metal, and places it on Jiang Cheng’s finger. “Hopefully Zidian doesn’t get too jealous. Titanium is supposed to be compatible with spiritual weapons.”
“How long have you been carrying that ring around?”
Huaisang shrugs. “I got it during our second year of university.”
“Six years? We could have been engaged for six years?”
“It’s not my job to propose, Sect Leader Jiang!”
“Chief Cultivator Nie is higher ranking than sect leader!” Jiang Cheng argues.
“Oh, shut up with your logic and your protocol.” Huaisang takes hold of Jiang Cheng’s chin and holds his head still so he can kiss him. “So we’re engaged?”
Jiang Cheng smiles against his mouth. “We’re engaged.” He kisses Huaisang back, kisses until they’re breathless. “We should go home,” he says when they break apart. “We should celebrate, before our families get involved.”
“As my fiancé wishes,” Huaisang says. He kisses Jiang Cheng again.
Jiang Cheng takes Huaisang’s left hand and kisses the ring. “Then let’s go home.”