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Jinlintai had never been so hot, Nie Huaisang thought to himself. This had to be the third-worst banquet he’d attended in Lanling. Perhaps he could get away with removing one of his layers. It would ruin the look of the outfit, and definitely add to his reputation as thick-faced and shameless, but he was sweating through his inner robes and if he didn’t do anything soon, he would ruin the silk of his actual robes.
He decided to let the shoulders of his jacket fall down, rather than removing the entire thing, and fanned himself. He was attracting attention from others at the banquet. Sect Leader Yao muttered something about how Nie Huaisang was a disgrace to the Nie name, but he didn’t care. His attention was focused on Jin Guangyao. The second he looked over, Nie Huaisang gave him an incredibly fake smile that was more pained grimace than anything else.
Then the world swam and tilted and Nie Huaisang passed out.
He woke up in his guest rooms hours later. It was still too warm for his tastes, even with the window open letting wisps of snow in from outside. He stumbled to the door and called for the nearest servant. His vision blurred enough that he couldn’t make out which one found him, only that their hair was piled high on their head. Nie Huaisang’s mouth watered when he saw how their pulse jumped on their neck.
“San-ge,” Nie Huaisang croaked. “Can you get san-ge for me?” He considered collapsing again, but that felt too dramatic. He settled on gripping the doorframe tightly and letting out a haggard breath. He couldn’t see the expression on the servant’s face, but from the way they ran off to find the Sect Leader, they believed his act.
--
Nie Huaisang was four when his parents discovered his condition. He didn’t remember much of the conversation they had, but he overheard enough.
His mother was terrified it was her fault. His father assured her it was a family curse that showed up every few generations. His step-mother started making plans to hide the condition from the rest of the sect. His father said something about life expectancies. Someone, step-mother or mother, he couldn’t tell, wondered if it was worth it to even keep him alive.
Nie Mingjue stormed out of the room, then, and picked him up. “You’re going to be fine.” He dragged Nie Huaisang into his room and onto his lap on the bed and just held him. “I’ll take care of you.”
“Too tight, da-ge.” Nie Huaisang’s stomach hurt and he was tired and he didn’t want to be strong enough to withstand his brother’s worried hugs. He just wanted to sleep and maybe eat something. He whined a little more, for emphasis, and settled deeper in Nie Mingjue’s lap.
His brother gave him a look before wiping the hair from his brow and pulling up his own sleeve. “Are you hungry, A-Sang?”
Nie Huaisang nodded.
“Here you go.”
He was confused by the wrist suddenly pressed against his mouth, but his body knew what to do, and soon his stomach didn’t hurt anymore.
--
Sect Leader Nie was late to dinner in Nie Huaisang’s rooms. Usually he was right on time, and left as soon as possible. Unlike his step-mother, who often forgot when it was her turn to feed him.
Ten minutes after dinner was supposed to start, Sect Leader Nie entered the room. “Here.” He handed Nie Huaisang a clay jar with a preservation talisman on it. “Try this.”
Nie Huaisang frowned and took the jar. Inside smelled… interesting. Not quite good, but almost. He gave his father a look.
“Try it.” He was using his Sect Leader voice, now.
The blood tasted slightly odd, but it was still unmistakably his father’s blood. Nie Huaisang finished it quickly.
“Good?”
Nie Huiasang nodded.
“Good.” Sect Leader Nie sat down next to him. “Then this is what you’ll be drinking from now on. You can’t always interrupt Mingjue’s day to eat.”
“I’ve been trying to eat less,” Nie Huaisang whined. He really had been. He was going days between meals. Not that he would tell his brother that, of course, because then Nie Mingjue would just sit him down and make him eat. But he was doing his best to bother his brother as little as possible.
“That’s good, thank you.” Sect Leader Nie looked at him for a long moment. “You have such a big responsibility, Huaisang. You have to keep your illness secret.”
“Mm, I understand.”
“Do you?” His father gave him a stern look. “No one can know. That includes Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji.”
He nodded. “Xichen-ge is da-ge’s good friend, but he’s not family. He can’t know.”
“That also includes Nie Zonghui.”
Nie Huaisang swallowed. Nie Zonghui was the nicest of the disciples, the only one who never made fun of him during dao practice. He was Nie Huaisang’s best friend outside of da-ge, and it hurt to keep secrets from him.
“But Nie Zonghui is family, that means he can know, right?”
His father fixed him with a glare. “No one.”
“No one,” Nie Huaisang agreed sullenly. “Not even Nie Zonghui.”
Sect Leader Nie nodded once, then stood to leave. “Very good.”
Nie Huaisang looked around his room, at the bare walls and small bed and the table in front of him with its single clay bottle, and felt very alone.
--
“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang whined. “I’m too weak for this!” He waved the practice sword and let it carry him off-balance. At ten he should already have a real blade, but his foundation was poor and he had yet to develop a golden core, so he was still stuck with the blunt wooden sabre.
“No you’re not. Try it again.” Nie Mingjue glared until his brother went back to his starting position. “Slower this time.”
Nie Huaisang grimaced, but worked through the practice strikes as instructed. Qi moved sluggishly through his meridians but refused to coalesce or gather anywhere. “There. Can I be done? I’m tired!”
A flash of concern showed on Nie Mingjue’s face. “Tired?”
Blood rushed in Nie Huaisang’s ears. His teeth ached. He could eat, he could always eat, but Nie Mingjue had given him blood earlier that week, and he didn’t like feeding from their parents. He could taste the disgust his parents felt when they remembered his teeth. Their disappointment and frustration coated his tongue like a greasy film that lingered for days.
“Ah, not that tired, da-ge. I just slept poorly.” He waved his hand, desperate for Nie Mingjue’s expression to return to irritated and frustrated.
“Then try again.” Nie Mingjue’s jaw flexed. “You have to catch up to the other disciples.”
He must have argued with their father recently about how much the curse would interfere with cultivation. Sect Leader Nie was certain that the constant influx of foreign qi would reverse any progress Nie Huaisang made. Nie Mingjue was equally certain that his brother was capable of anything if he put his mind to it.
Nie Huaisang found his brother’s faith in him heartwarming when it wasn’t the cause of miserably long training sessions.
--
The ambient energy of the Cloud Recesses was too much. Nie Huaisang tried to ignore it, but every day he spent studying there sapped the life out of him. He had brought more than enough supplies from Qinghe to survive for six months, in theory, but he had finished the last bottle of “medicine” a week ago and his teeth were aching again.
Perhaps his father was right, and the curse wove resentful energy throughout his being. That would explain why he was so bad at cultivation, and now why the Cloud Recesses felt like the very land wanted him dead.
Nie Huaisang pushed the thought out of his head and focused on the shrike in the bushes. It was too wrapped up in foraging for berries to notice him. Too used to living on a mountain with no predators. He launched himself forward and caught the bird in one hand. He wanted a live model to refer to when painting.
A low thrum in his stomach filled him with the urge to shove it in his mouth. He could feel its little heart beating against his hands and if he wanted he could just snap its bones in his teeth--
He let go of the bird with a start.
Nie Huaisang was fraying. He’d never lost control of the curse, not yet, but he’d heard enough stories from his father about ancestors who had, and he’d rather qi deviate than follow in their footsteps.
He took a few minutes to center himself before making his way down the mountain. Nie Mingjue was sending him more blood, but the bottles wouldn’t arrive for a few more days, and Nie Huaisang needed something to tide him over. Pig blood from the butcher in Caiyi would probably taste terrible, but it was either that or starve until the package came. Given how tempted he was to run after the shrike and squeeze it until it burst in his palm, he opted to visit Caiyi.
The pig blood was exactly as disgusting as he’d feared. It staved off the worst of the hunger and he was able to rinse the flavor (slop and terror, not at all like da-ge) from his mouth with wine before returning. At least the preserved blood he brought from Qinghe still felt like food in his body. If he had to do this again, perhaps he would spike the blood with wine and spices.
He slid past the gate just as curfew fell and ignored any looks from the guard posted there. That was where his luck ended. Lan Xichen was waiting for him just outside the guest dorms.
Nie Huaisang put on his best pout, the one that implied crying without letting any tears well up. “I know I shouldn’t have skipped lessons, but I needed to pick up supplies for my medicine in town, and I couldn’t ask the infirmary here because it’s technically a Sect secret--”
He stopped himself. Lan Xichen smiled tightly, like he usually did to ease the sting of punishment, but he couldn’t bring his eyes to Nie Huaisang’s face. That was wrong.
“Huaisang, there’s been a letter…”
The pout dropped off Nie Huaisang’s face. Real tears pricked at his eyes against his wishes as his heart beat loudly in his ears. “Father.”
Lan Xichen nodded.
The world shook a little under Nie Huaisang. Or maybe his legs were giving way. That would make more sense. But if his father, strong and steady Sect Leader Nie, could fall, surely the mountains were just as weak.
Lan Xichen caught him and swept him into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Huaisang. This has been such a difficult summer with your illness flaring and now…” He didn’t mind when Nie Huaisang wept into his shoulder and didn’t comment when he saw the blood streaming from Nie Huaisang’s eyes. Lan Xichen just held him close and let him sob. “Your brother is on his way.”
--
Every part of re-education at Qishan was miserable. Nie Huaisang didn’t think his experience was worse than anyone else’s. But he was aware that he had some unique difficulties. The Wen Sect wasn’t impressed with his claim that he needed medicine from Qinghe, so he wasn’t eating. The air of the dormitories that housed the guest disciples was laced with blood and Nie Huaisang found himself breathing with his mouth open to taste. As though the copper in the air could compare to fresh life coming from his brother’s veins.
His brother had told him, before he shipped off to Qishan with the Nie disciples in his care, that it was okay if he told the disciples about the curse. He could reveal this secret of the family, and ask them to feed him. Anything to stay alive, Nie Mingjue had said.
He refused. As the heir to the sect, Nie Huaisang should be the one protecting and providing for the disciples. He couldn’t, of course, he wasn’t strong enough to protect or provide, but he wouldn’t be a burden on them.
Sometimes Nie Huaisang had to tend the wounds of his disciples. He bit his tongue to keep from doing anything untoward while he wiped the blood from their arms and backs. They always thanked him for his kindness. As if he was doing anything of value. He didn’t try to keep their swords like Jin Zixuan had, or keep their morale up like Wei Wuxian. He just cleaned up people’s wounds after a long day of torture.
When the other disciples went to bed, Nie Huaisang would carefully wring out the blood-stained cloths and drink the pale pink water.
By the time they were dragged to Xuanwu cave, Nie Huaisang was deep in his hunger and ready to die. It was fine. They made it out of the cave with the help of his friends who were much better cultivators and warriors. It was fine. He would have to lead his people back to Qinghe on foot. It was fine. He could manage.
When Nie Huaisang tripped over nothing for the third time in a shichen. Nie Zonghui rushed over to catch him.
“I’m fine, really!”
Nie Zonghui frowned at him. “Gongzi.”
He couldn’t focus. The sound of Nie Zonghui’s heartbeat was too loud. He could ignore it when he was leading the group and a few steps ahead of them. But with Nie Zonghui so close, his skin so warm and flushed with the exertion of the hike--
Nie Huaisang smiled and stood straight. “I’ll be fine.” He charged forward to avoid looking at any of the worried disciples. “Rest here. I’ll look ahead for any Wens.”
With some distance between himself and the other disciples, he could think. Everything hurt and he couldn’t see straight, but he could think.
He needed to eat, soon. He couldn’t lead them in this state. Maybe he could find some birds. Or a rabbit, that would be perfect. He closed his eyes to listen better. The heartbeast of the other Nies were still audible, though he could ignore them to focus on the animals nearby.
And the heartbeat of a single person creeping toward him through the underbrush.
Nie Huaisang controlled his breathing and glanced over to where the sound was coming from. A Wen soldier, maybe five years older than him. He couldn’t hear any others in the area, so she was alone. He likely wouldn’t get an opportunity like this again.
She drew her sword silently and took another step forward.
In a flash, Nie Huaisang was on the soldier. His teeth tore through flesh and oh how his body needed this. The blood, hot and thick on his tongue, eased the hundred aches that he’d been hiding from himself. For the first time in weeks, he felt whole and healthy.
He didn’t even register her taste until she fell to the ground, taking him with her. The copper and iron was forefront, of course, but the threads of confusion and fear were strong, as well as a sharp overtone of anger. She was furious that he was killing her. He supposed he would be, too.
When he had drunk his fill and she was considerably paler than when she’d been alive, Nie Huaisang stood to wipe his face and drag the body further into the underbrush. Then he returned to his disciples.
“I’m feeling much better, we can keep going,” he said cheerfully.
Nie Zonghui looked pointedly at the blood and dirt covering his robes. “Did something happen?”
“Just a scuffle with...” Nie Huaisang searched his brain for a suitable animal, “A rabbit.”
“A rabbit bled that much.” The other disciples looked no more convinced than Nie Zonghui, but they didn’t argue.
That night Nie Huaisang stared at the stars above and wondered if he should feel bad about how good he felt. His father would say that this was the worst thing he could do, that murdering with the curse was wicked and vile and made him no better than a fierce corpse.
His brother would forgive him. He always did, no matter how badly Nie Huaisang messed up.
The rest of the journey went much faster now that Nie Huaisang wasn’t slowing them down. He was even able to scout ahead and keep them from encountering Wen patrols.
“Freedom looks good on you, Nie-gongzi!” the disciples joked. “Haven’t seen you this strong in ages!”
Nie Huaisang laughed and shook his head. “I’m just glad to be going home.”
They were right, of course, he was incredibly well-fed these days. He had stamina and energy and he could feel his cultivation improving. He eventually learned to take off his outer robes when scouting to reduce the amount of blood he had on him.
The disciples never commented on his disheveled state or the blood constantly caked in his hair.
“I had a great-aunt, once,” Nie Zonghui said, late one night in their makeshift camp. Nie Huaisang hadn’t realized he was still awake. “Grandfather’s sister, Nie Xing. She was sickly, with low cultivation.”
Nie Huaisang kept staring at the sky.
“I only met her a few times. She looked young, for all that she could barely swing a sword. She rarely left the Unclean Realm, barely left her rooms toward the end. Took her meals in her rooms, usually with Grandfather.” Nie Zonghui shifted on the ground and brushed some sticks away from him. “I visited her once, before she died. Right after lunch.”
There was no disgust in Nie Zonghui’s voice. No pity. He was describing a series of facts. Nie Huaisang could imagine exactly what Nie Xing looked like after her meal, and it was comforting to know that, to Nie Zonghui, his great-aunt flush with blood and holding her teeth in check was just another fact.
“Thank you, Zonghui.”
There was nothing else to say, really.
--
“Gongzi. Gongzi.” Nie Zonghui shoved Nie Huaisang off his shoulder. “Don’t sleep on me at the dinner table.”
Nie Huaisang frowned, but sat up straighter. He and some of the younger Nie disciples were hiding in the Cloud Recesses while the Sunshot Campaign got properly started. It was safer than Qinghe for sure, and Nie Huaisang was glad to be there to protect his people, but the Cloud Recesses was just as exhausting as always.
“Are you alright Nie-xiong?” One of the young Lans, barely thirteen years old and already a better cultivator than Nie Huaisang, looked at him with concern.
“It’s just this mountain air,” he said with a nonchalant wave. “It’s too much for my fragile constitution.”
“Isn’t the Unclean Realm in the mountains?” Another one of the young Lans asked.
“It’s at the base of the mountain. We’re at the top. Completely different.” The Lans didn’t look convinced, so Nie Huaisang added, “Aren’t you supposed to be silent during meals?”
The Lans immediately focused their attention on the steamed vegetables and rice in front of them. Nie Huaisang didn’t laugh at them, which took all of the strength he had left. He leaned on Nie Zonghui again.
“Today was so hard! How is meditation so much worse here than at home?” He was whining, yes, but he had been fighting the urge to pass out all day. He deserved to whine a little.
Nie Zonghui stole some of the water chestnuts from Nie Huaisang’s bowl. “We were out in the sun. It makes sense you would be tired.”
“What do you mean?”
Nie Zonghui looked down at him, pleasantly surprised. “Oh, is that not an issue for you? The sun was always an issue for Nie Xing. She never went outside during the day, towards the end.”
Nie Huaisang considered this information. He preferred staying indoors reading or painting fans over practicing with his dao outside. When he was outside, he preferred to be in the woods following birds or walking in the evening. He’d always thought it was because it was too hot and bright outside, but even an overcast or chilly day was too much.
He sighed theatrically and left dinner early.
Nie Huaisang thought about the issue of the sun for the rest of the night, until he was feeding from Nie Zonghui in a secluded courtyard after curfew.
“If I didn’t know about the sun,” he said, pulling off his friend’s wrist, “what else don’t I know about?”
“Can you at least clean yourself up when you talk? It’s unsettling to see my blood dripping down your chin.” Nie Zonghui wiped at his arm with a rag and used his qi to close the wound.
“You’ve seen me much dirtier,” Nie Huaisang said, though he still dabbed at his face with a napkin.
All of the older Nie disciples were willing to donate to Nie Huaisang, but he usually asked Nie Zonghui. The disciples were only offering out of a sense of obligation: Nie Huaisang had protected them on the way back from Qishan, so they thought they should bleed for him in return. Nie Zonghui offered because he was Nie Huaisang’s friend and cousin. The curse was a family issue, Nie Huaisang reasoned. It should be handled by family.
When his face was clean, Nie Huaisang continued complaining. “It’s so annoying how little I know about my own body.” He laid back on the ground to highlight his misery.
Nie Zonghui hummed in sympathy. “That does sound difficult.” Then he tilted his head as a thought occurred to him. “You could always figure it out yourself. Experiment with your abilities and take notes.”
“Most of my so-called abilities involve hurting an unwilling victim.”
“Not necessarily.” Nie Zonghui lifted his arm. The skin on his wrist had closed up due to his strong cultivation, but the silvery imprint of Nie Huaisang’s teeth remained. “You can experiment on me.”
The best way to get someone to agree to a favor is to get them to offer it. Nie Huaisang learned that from avoiding dao practice and watching Meng Yao back when he worked in the Unclean Realm. “Thank you,” he said through a big grin. “Do you mind if I try something now?”
Nie Zonghui smirked and held his arm out again.
“I want to see how much I can learn from your blood.”
--
Although Nie Huaisang wasn’t proud of his brother’s motivation, he was happy that he was swearing brotherhood with Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao. Now Nie Huaisang had two more brothers to look after him and an excuse to still spend time with Jin Guangyao.
He wished he had been the one to plan the ceremony, of course, as it was the middle of the day and Nie Huaisang was suffering even in the shade of his umbrella. But he was happy nonetheless.
As soon as the main event was over Nie Huaisang retreated to the nearby pavilion to investigate what food was being served. There was a healthy assortment of blanched vegetables for the Lan attendees, but he was far more interested in the collection of barely-seared meats. Someone had procured exotic cuts and he was itching to try camel.
“I’m glad you came,” Jin Guangyao said from behind Nie Huaisang. “I missed you while I was undercover in Qishan.”
“Meng Yao! Ah, no, Jin Guangyao!” Nie Huaisang made up for his mistake by hugging his old friend. “Of course I came for your swearing ceremony. You’re just as much my brother as da-ge. Especially now.”
Jin Guangyao smiled and looked down when he was released from Nie Huaisang’s arms. “Many thanks, A-Sang. I’m not sure that da-ge would agree with you, but it’s nice to hear.” There was a stiffness to the corners of his eyes that left Nie Huaisang worried.
“Here, eat some bear.” Nie Huaisang piled bright red meat onto his new san-ge’s plate. “It’s one of my favorites.”
Jin Guangyao shook his head indulgently. “I don’t understand how you’re so small when you eat nothing but meat.” He took a bite of the bear and made a soft pleased noise. “But you do have good taste.”
“Of course I do.” Bear tasted like strength and forests even before Nie Huaisang had learned to pull memories through blood on his tongue.
They were interrupted by Lan Xichen joining them at the food table. “Huaisang, I was just speaking with da-ge...” He looked hesitant, but he ordered his thoughts and continued. “He explained some things and I want you to know that you can always depend on me when you feel… weak.” When Nie Huaisang didn’t reply, he added, “You can ask me for help just like you would da-ge.” He gave Nie Huaisang a significant look, the kind that meant he was trying to avoid saying something.
It was a feat not to laugh when Nie Huaisang figured out what was happening. Nie Mingjue finally told Lan Xichen about the family condition, and now Lan Xichen was offering to feed Nie Huaisang out of some sense of family obligation.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” Nie Huaisang said.
Lan Xichen put a hand on Nie Huaisang’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “It must be very hard to manage your health.”
“I remember how rare your medicine is.” Jin Guangyao smiled at him. Nie Huaisang was certain that his brother hadn’t let Jin Guangyao know about his condition, but he spoke all the same. “You can ask Lanling for help procuring it.”
Lan Xichen gave Jin Guangyao a proud look, and Nie Huaisang couldn’t hide the laugh any more. He turned it into a delicate cough which interrupted the moment, and he let his brother’s new sworn brothers lead him to a seat. These men were falling over themselves to offer their blood to him out of pity and worry for him.
Their concern was sweet, really, but deeply unnecessary. At this point most of the Nie Sect was aware of Nie Huaisang’s needs and checked if he needed food every day. With the exception of all the stupid conferences and night hunts that happened in the middle of the day, Nie Huaisang’s condition was completely managed.
Eventually Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao moved away to greet other guests and Nie Huaisang was left with the Nie contingent and his plate of camel meat. He took a bite and let himself fall into the flavor of winds whipping across the steps.
--
Nie Mingjue was dead.
Nie Mingjue was dead.
Nie Mingjue was dead and his killer was in his home.
Nie Huaisang was empty inside. He’d befriended his brother’s killer, defended him from criticism. He had trinkets and gifts from Jin Guangyao sitting in his room while Nie Mingjue was stuck in a coffin.
If he had his way, Nie Huaisang would be alone for the funeral and free to cry, scream, or rage as necessary. But if he was forced to host his traitorous san-ge and questionable er-ge, he would take advantage of the opportunity to investigate.
Which led him to crying in Lan Xichen’s lap in front of the body. He had to admit, the man was surprisingly tolerant of blood-tears ruining his pristine white robes. Perhaps the Lan Sect had a secret method for removing stains. The Nie staff just opted to burn any soiled mourning robes each night to avoid anyone outside the Sect asking questions.
“Er-ge, what am I going to do?”
Lan Xichen rubbed his back gently, like he had years ago when his father had died. “You’ll do fine, Huaisang. You’re stronger than you feel, I promise.”
“He took care of me. Protected me from everything. And now I’m alone.”
“You have an entire sect behind you, and A-Yao and I beside you. You’ll be an excellent sect leader.”
Nie Huaisang shuddered and let himself sniffle. He felt awful about what he had to do, but it was the only way he could think of to be sure of Lan Xichen’s intentions.
“I don’t want to ask...” he started. He swallowed.
Lan Xichen kept rubbing his back. “Whatever you need.” Then his hand stopped for a second. “Oh.”
Nie Huaisang nodded. Did he look pathetic enough? Or had Lan Xichen forgotten his offer?
He worried for no reason. Lan Xichen pulled his sleeve up and shifted to face Nie Huaisang. “As I said, anything you need.”
The first drops of blood on his tongue tasted like grief, of course. Nie Huaisang drank deeper for what was below. Any evidence that Lan Xichen was aware of Jin Guangyao’s plot. Satisfaction or resignation or accomplishment.
Instead he tasted such a deep fraternal love that he pulled off Lan Xichen’s wrist to sob again. He hadn’t tasted that kind of complete, all-encompassing trust since the last time Nie Mingjue had bled for him. And as Nie Mingjue had deteriorated (as Jin Guangyao’s plot dragged him down), he’d bled less and less often. They didn’t want to find out what deviating blood would do to Nie Huaisang’s health.
Nie Huaisang couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted such love and care. The thought threatened to break him.
There was a noise from the doorway, a small gasp as Jin Guangyao stumbled upon the tableau. Lan Xichen made no move, but Nie Huaisang jumped and tried to cover his er-ge’s wrist.
“San-ge, I’m sorry, I thought you were still--”
Jin Guangyao’s face settled into a gentle smile as he filed this information away. “No need to worry, A-Sang. You’re grieving, of course you would need more comfort.” He entered the room more fully and knelt by them. “We’re here for you.”
Nie Huaisang wiped his tears and hiccuped. He could already see Jin Guangyao making plans to use his condition against him. It was one thing to use your sworn brotherhood to influence Sect Leaders. Knowing a terrible secret that could ruin a Sect Leader? That gave you complete control over him.
--
Nie Huaisang adjusted the blankets around him one more time while he waited for Jin Guangyao. He wanted to look as small as possible. He considered working up some tears to complete the ensemble, but it felt like too much effort. He was legitimately exhausted and hungry, after all. Instead he pulled one of his braids out of place. That would have to do.
“Huaisang, are you okay? I hope you weren’t waiting long, I couldn’t just leave my guests--” Jin Guangyao walked briskly into the guest rooms and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. He looked Nie Huaisang over, taking in the sheen of sweat, pale skin, disheveled hair, and raspy breathing. “Oh, you’re not doing well.”
Nie Huaisang shook his head. “I shouldn’t have let it get this bad, san-ge, I messed up.” He could see the jump of skin over Jin Guangyao’s pulse and his teeth ached. “I’m so hungry,” he whispered.
Jin Guangyao nodded, the picture of brotherly compassion and understanding, and pulled up his sleeve. “Here, take what you need.”
Nie Huaisang laughed to himself. Jin Guangyao thought he had hidden the bright spark of anticipation from his eyes.
He let his hands shake ever so slightly as he took the offered hand. Let Jin Guangyao think he was winning the game.
The first rush of blood, hot and slick across his tongue, was a novel experience. It felt thinner than what he was used to, as Jin Guangyao was a much lesser cultivator than his usual fare, but there was still power and strength. The difference between a fatty pork stew and a congee flavored with dried beef.
Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Nie Huaisang had first-hand experience that not all power came from a well-developed golden core.
He took a shuddering breath as he drank deeper and clutched Jin Guangyao’s arm tighter. This wasn’t the revenge he needed with every fiber of his being, which would take extensive planning, but it was a tiny moment where Nie Huaisang could pretend. Siphoning some of the life out of his enemy’s body was, perhaps, an approximation of justice.
The muscles underneath his mouth tensed and he bit down harder until they relaxed. Jin Guangyao seemed determined to maintain his composure throughout this. Nie Huaisang wanted to make him crack.
“San-ge…” Nie Huaisang licked at the wound on Jin Guangyao’s wrist to help it heal, then sat up. “This isn’t enough.”
Jin Guangyao smiled indulgently and pulled his robes away from his neck. “Here you go, Huaisang.” He hissed slightly when Nie Huaisang’s fangs pierced his skin, but his hand was gentle when he cradled Nie Huaisang’s neck.
Feelings and images danced over Nie Huaisang’s tongue. He could taste, first and foremost, the smug grin Jin Guangyao was wearing. He was so sure he was in control with a weak Sect Leader in his arms, so convinced that Nie Huaisang was a fragile flower that could be crushed in an instant.
It was the same smile he wore when he played the Song of Disruption for Nie Mingjue. The memories flashed through his blood into Nie Huaisang’s body. The tension of silk strings under his fingertips. The victory he felt every time Nie Mingjue clenched his jaw. The taunts that sent Nie Mingjue into his final deviation.
Nie Huaisang bit down harder against his better judgement. He should be gentle and let Jin Guangyao think he was weak.
But Jin Guangyao had killed his brother and enjoyed it. So he bit down until he felt squirming underneath him.
“A-Sang, are you…” Jin Guangyao’s voice was scratchy and strained under Nie Huaisang’s mouth. “Is that enough?”
It was nowhere near enough. He had only tasted a few memories, none of which he could use against Jin Guangyao. He needed to drink so much more. But he could wait. Perhaps the next time he fed he would see something useful
Nie Huaisang pulled off his neck slowly, with the smallest of licks to help the wound heal. He needed a moment to push the satisfied smile from his face. “Thank you, san-ge.” He hung his head as he sat back. “I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble.”
“No, A-Sang, don’t worry.” Jin Guangyao looked pale, but his smile was sure and warm. “You can always come to me if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you,” Nie Huaisang said again. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
