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What was he supposed to do, see the plate of candied ginger in Jin Guangyao’s room and not take it? It wasn’t like he was there at the time. And he wouldn’t appreciate it the way Xue Yang would, anyway.
Odds were good he wouldn’t even notice. And it was delicious. Sweet and sharp at the same time. He ate half, wandering through Jinlintai’s garden, and stashed the rest in his Qiankun sleeve for later. See, he imagined saying to Jin Guangyao. I do know what delayed gratification is. I can wait.
Even if it was hard. Even if it meant fighting a little with the vague suspicion that it was just a matter of time before someone came along and took it from him and trying to save food was just a good way to lose it.
Never mind it’d been a while since anyone had managed to do that to him. It was a stubborn feeling.
Xue Yang settled himself next to a fish pond and entertained himself by throwing small rocks at the fish in it. He’d had a question for Jin Guangyao but apparently he had ‘things to do’ or something, and while he could sit around waiting for him to show up he wasn’t actually interested in doing that.
So he threw rocks at fish and fiddled with the question of how hard it would be to make a fierce corpse play a dizi or if the breath control would be a problem.
If Jin Guangyao did notice the candied ginger missing Xue Yang wondered if he’d believe that Su She had done it.
Xue Yang found a patch of sun and let himself doze off for a little while, enjoying the warmth of the day. When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was a vague wooziness like he’d drunk too much or gone without sleeping for a few days. When he sat up, his head spun, vision briefly doubling before it settled. Xue Yang frowned.
That didn’t seem right.
He didn’t feel right, actually. In general. His mouth was dry and his guts were squirming like eels. The sunlight seemed too bright, glaring and unnatural.
Something’s wrong, Xue Yang thought, a little dazed. Something’s...wrong with me.
The concern about that kicked in belatedly, and only just in advance of the first wave of pain that rolled over him, all his muscles seizing up at once in what felt like a full-body cramp. It passed quickly, and he’d definitely had worse, but Xue Yang had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the end of it.
Had someone cursed him while he was resting? No, he’d know if he’d been cursed. This felt more like he was getting sick, anyway, only he hardly ever got sick anymore and it never came on this fast. He traced back his steps and remembered the candy he’d lifted out of Jin Guangyao’s quarters.
Jin Guangyao. Lianfang-zun. People tried to kill him sometimes. Including with poison.
Or maybe Jin Guangyao had left candy there on purpose like - like poisoned meat for a street dog, fuck, if that was it then Xue Yang was going to kill him.
Okay. Poison. He could handle poison. Just - purge it. Focus and…
No. He couldn’t do that, because his qi was fucked up, too, flickering and off and he had a feeling anything he tried right now would go badly.
You’re fucked, observed a dispassionate voice at the back of his mind. Idiot.
Xue Yang got up. He staggered a little but managed to keep himself up, and started walking, trying to think about his next move. Poison. Shit. He’d been poisoned before but not by another person, usually it was his own accidentally and he had the antidote on hand or some monster, not someone trying to kill a cultivator. His golden core was stronger than Jin Guangyao’s, which made his chances better, probably, but who the fuck knew what kind of overkill they’d built in?
Go to the doctor, said the same cool voice, but he recoiled from that idea like fire. Let someone stick him with needles and poke at him and maybe cut pieces off, maybe they’d just let him die because it wouldn’t be worth the effort. No doctors.
Couldn’t trust them, anyway. Couldn’t - trust anyone, not like this, not when he was weak and a really determined kid could probably fuck him up.
He needed to go somewhere safe. Somewhere he could hole up and wait this out where no one would find him and take advantage of his weakened state. Sweat slithered down the back of his neck and he could hear himself panting; Xue Yang rode a wave of nausea over to an expensive looking vase and puked in it. It was probably too late for that to help, though.
It was getting hard to think, thoughts tripping and stumbling over each other. Somewhere safe. Somewhere safe and private where he could focus and fix himself, too weak too exposed get out of here-
He didn’t completely remember making it to Jin Guangyao’s treasure room. But he did make it. He found a back corner out of immediate sight and curled up in it, knees drawn to his chest and shivering uncontrollably. He needed to - to-
His guts cramped viciously and Xue Yang doubled over, biting his tongue so he didn’t make a sound because making a sound would draw attention and he needed to stay hidden, stay hidden stay safe.
He tucked himself more securely against the wall, hunched his shoulders, and dug in to ride it out.
Jin Guangyao knew someone was in the treasure room. It wasn’t a great feat of deduction, though, not when he could hear the rasping sound of someone’s strained breathing.
It didn’t take him long to find them, either, and at least it was one of the short list of people who were permitted here.
However, something was very clearly wrong, beginning with the fact that Xue Yang was wedged into a corner between shelves like an animal in a den, hadn’t responded to Jin Guangyao’s entrance at all, and looked like he’d fallen deathly ill sometime between the last time Jin Guangyao had seen him (yesterday) and now. His eyes were half-closed and unfocused, his face pale, his breathing raspy and uneven as he shivered like a leaf in autumn.
He stayed carefully out of arm’s reach and said, “Chengmei.”
A twitch. Xue Yang’s eyes cleared slightly and Jin Guangyao watched him register the presence of another person.
His face went from unfocused to snarling in the blink of an eye and he lunged, or tried to, only between an obvious lack of coordination and the job he’d done tucking himself into his makeshift den he didn’t get very far.
“Get away from me,” he said, and it sounded vicious but Jin Guangyao could hear the fear in it. “I’ll kill you, I’ll-”
“Chengmei,” Jin Guangyao repeated again, “do you know who I am?”
“The fuck’s Chengmei,” Xue Yang said, and Jin Guangyao contained a wince.
“Xue Yang, then. Do you know who I am?”
Xue Yang squinted at him. “Lianfang-zun,” he said eventually, half a question.
Well. That was good, at least. “Yes,” he affirmed. “What is this?” Qi deviation, he thought, but that didn’t seem quite right.
Xue Yang’s breathing hitched and he curled into himself tighter as with some spasm of pain, though his eyes remained fixed feverishly on Jin Guangyao. “You did this to me,” he said. “Trap?”
“No,” Jin Guangyao said immediately, because that was a suspicion he absolutely did not want to take hold. If he got Xue Yang out of the corner he would be able to assess him better. On the other hand, he would also be more dangerous. The watchful gaze trained on him might be glazed but Jin Guangyao wasn’t going to assume that Xue Yang couldn’t hurt him if he tried to. “Did someone do something to you?”
Xue Yang licked his lips; it looked like a nervous gesture. “Go away,” he said.
Jin Guangyao considered for a moment. Xue Yang was not going to be happy about this later. He might be actively angry about it, depending on how clearly he remembered. It would undoubtedly be safer to leave.
His father found Xue Yang a useful tool, but he wouldn’t grieve losing him.
That thought twisted something in him, a mix of anger and unhappiness briefly flashing up before dying away.
“Xue Yang,” he said, “did someone do something to you?”
Xue Yang’s eyes cut away from his face and then just as quickly back. It was a strange thing, how young he looked like this. He panted, shallow and ragged sounding.
“I can’t help if you don’t tell me,” Jin Guangyao said.
“Ginger’s poisoned,” Xue Yang said. He laughed, though it was more of a wheeze. “Think it was supposed to be you.”
Jin Guangyao’s eyes widened. He’d noticed the empty plate in his chambers and sighed over it, guessing - accurately, apparently - who might have stolen food meant for him. It appeared he’d been lucky. Poison in his food wasn’t terribly inventive, though whatever this was...he cast an assessing look over Xue Yang, taking in his state, and didn’t like the idea of how he would fare. He scanned through a list of possible suspects - someone in the sect worried about the succession, looking toward the future and loathing the idea of giving their loyalty to someone like him–
“I see,” Jin Guangyao said. “Can you come out? You need a physician-”
“No,” Xue Yang snarled immediately.
“Xue Yang.”
He pressed back further away from Jin Guangyao. “No,” he said again. “I’m not - I won’t. It’s not safe. Just - go away. Got to wait it out.” His muscles seized up again and a very small sound that Xue Yang plainly attempted to muffle squeezed out of him.
“It would be perfectly safe.”
Xue Yang’s breathing got faster, louder, and his fingers curled into claws like he was getting ready to attack. “Put a knife in your eye,” he panted. “In their eye, I’ll kill them, watch me. Fuck, ffff-”
His shoulders hunched and his voice broke off as his body shook.
“All right,” Jin Guangyao said soothingly. “All right. But I’d still like you to come out. I can get you water. And medicine.”
Xue Yang stared at him, wary and half-feral, and Jin Guangyao thought again how much younger fear made him seem.
Not safe, he’d said. Which meant that this room, by implication, was. That in seeking a sanctuary Xue Yang had come here.
He probably shouldn’t be touched.
“Chengmei,” he said, pitching his voice calm and soothing, calculated to settle tempers and make people at ease. “Please. Come out.”
“Try anything and I’ll kill you,” Xue Yang said. There was a desperate, fearful edge on his voice that said he knew very well he wouldn’t necessarily be able to. Jin Guangyao inclined his head anyway.
“I understand,” he said. “I’ll get you some water.” He rose, slowly, and moved away, not turning his back until he had a generous amount of space.
When he came back with the water, Xue Yang had emerged from the corner and was on his feet, though leaning heavily on one of the shelves, glazed eyes flicking to Jin Guangyao. He took a sip from the water and then held it out; after a long moment Xue Yang snatched it away and downed it.
A couple seconds later he was on the floor retching it back up. Jin Guangyao winced. That did explain the odd-smelling vase he’d noticed.
He assessed his options. Wisest would certainly be a physician, but it seemed fairly likely that Xue Yang would react to anyone else as a threat. He could try to sedate him, but that was a dangerous prospect. Even a Xue Yang of diminished capacity might be able to hurt him badly.
He could step back and let the poison run its course. Xue Yang was sturdy; he might survive.
Jin Guangyao dismissed that immediately. He could tell himself it was for pragmatic reasons - Xue Yang was not replaceable, easily or possibly at all - but he suspected it would be dishonest.
It could have been him. It could have been Qin Su.
Xue Yang was dangerous, unpredictable, and nearly impossible to control.
He was, in his own fashion, loyal. And if he didn’t treat Jin Guangyao with respect, he never treated him with scorn.
“Stupid fucking way to die,” Xue Yang said, shuddering.
“No,” he said firmly. “This isn’t going to kill you, Chengmei. Let me help you.”
Xue Yang’s eyes turned toward him, focusing slowly. The terror of helplessness was mirror-familiar in a way that made him want to flinch.
He didn’t move until Xue Yang gave him a shaky, unsteady nod. He didn’t smile, because he suspected Xue Yang wouldn’t trust a smile.
“There,” he said, and the relief was undeniable. “Good.”
Xue Yang started to collapse, and Jin Guangyao caught him before he fell facedown into the water he’d just vomited.
“All right, Chengmei,” he said. “Let’s see about setting you to rights.”
It took work - and a great deal of careful persuasion - to remove Xue Yang from the treasure room (and its weapons).
Once he had, though, Xue Yang curled up on the floor under the blanket Jin Guangyao gave him like he was making a nest for himself. He dozed in and out of fever; it took some coaxing to convince him to take the medicine Jin Guangyao gave him at least to manage that. Not knowing the poison, he couldn’t provide an antidote, only manage the symptoms. Hopefully that would be enough.
But he did take the medicine, eventually, and kept it down; he drank a few cupfuls of water and kept those down, too.
Curled into himself, he whimpered and cried out, left hand drawn in toward his chest like it needed shielding. It had been some time since Jin Guangyao had minded anyone ill - Nie Huaisang, occasionally (though at least some of those had been hangovers rather than sickness).
It came back to him with surprising ease, even as part of him rebelled, said this is beneath you, now, you aren’t a servant.
Xue Yang twitched and uncurled a little, opening one bleary eye just as Jin Guangyao was in the middle of putting a cool cloth on his forehead. He squinted at him, frowning, with very much the same expression that he got when he encountered a particularly vexing problem with Wei Wuxian’s notes.
“Lianfang-zun,” he said, voice slurred.
“Mm,” Jin Guangyao said, preparing himself to move quickly out of reach if it seemed necessary.
Xue Yang’s frown eased and he blinked at him, wide-eyed. “Oh,” he said. “Okay.”
Jin Guangyao drew back slowly, leaving the cloth where it was. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Xue Yang said. “Fine. Good. You didn’t poison me on purpose, right?”
“No,” he said immediately, and emphatically. “Why would I do that?”
“Expect you’ll try to off me eventually,” Xue Yang said. “Only makes sense.”
Jin Guangyao felt a peculiar pang. It wasn’t necessarily an inaccurate assessment. He was aware that it might become necessary; that his father might at any time decide that Xue Yang had outlived his usefulness, and Jin Guangyao would be responsible for seeing to his - disposal.
He pushed that aside as something that he did not necessarily need to deal with now and said, “You seem fairly unconcerned by that idea.”
“Everybody dies,” Xue Yang said reasonably. “No point being scared of it.”
That made little sense to Jin Guangyao, but he wasn’t going to argue.
“You’re all right,” Xue Yang said after a moment. “I mean. I don’t trust you. But you’re all right.”
“Thank you,” Jin Guangyao said, slightly bemused. Xue Yang smiled at him, then curled up tighter and moaned again, shivering through another spasm of cramps. Jin Guangyao clenched his hands into fists so he didn’t reach out to touch him.
“You owe me,” Xue Yang panted when it was over.
“I do?”
“Yeah,” Xue Yang said. “For - for taking the punch for you. The poison. This could be you.”
“I could say,” Jin Guangyao said, “that this is what happens when you steal what isn’t yours.”
Xue Yang coughed a laugh that turned into rasping breaths. His head lolled back, pulse beating quickly in his throat. His eyelids fluttered.
“Chengmei,” Jin Guangyao said, trying not to sound alarmed.
“M’fine,” Xue Yang said blurrily, teeth chattering.
“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said after a beat. “Fine. Are you certain you won’t see a physician?”
Xue Yang tensed, eyes widening. There was a flash of terror, though it vanished very quickly. “No,” he said immediately. “I’m not. Not going anywhere, fuck that, if you try to make me-”
“I don’t intend to,” Jin Guangyao said. “But my medical skills are limited-”
“Don’t care,” Xue Yang said. Jin Guangyao sighed.
“Very well,” he said. “I don’t want to find out what you are still capable of like this.”
Xue Yang flashed his teeth. “Good call,” he said, though the way he was trembling took some of the threat out of it. Jin Guangyao reached out to adjust the blanket without thinking and Xue Yang flinched away.
Flinched. Xue Yang. His mind absently catalogued the weakness. The rest of him registered a dissonance, a wrongness like a note out of tune. It disconcerted him. Alarmed him, even.
Xue Yang was a constant in his inconstancy. The idea presented itself in concrete form that he might die.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Xue Yang said, though it fell a little short of a snarl. “Don’t need you feeling sorry for me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jin Guangyao said, consciously smoothing out his expression. Xue Yang squinted suspiciously at him for a long moment, but subsided, though that might have had more to do with exhaustion than belief. The poison was wearing him down; at this point Jin Guangyao thought it was just a matter of whether it exhausted itself before Xue Yang did or not.
Maybe he could try to give him a bit of spiritual energy? Whatever his limitations, it could help. It would mean touching him, though, and the risk remained that Xue Yang would react violently out of reflex or confusion, and that would only make things worse. But it would at least be a way to make himself useful. Do something.
“Xue Yang,” he said slowly. Xue Yang struggled visibly to focus on him again. “Would you let me-”
He stopped and fell still at a knock on the door. Xue Yang startled and started trying to claw his way up; Jin Guangyao held out a hand he hoped would forestall the effort if his own weakness didn’t stop him first, and went over.
“Yes?” he said.
“Lianfang-zun,” the disciple said. “Jin-zongzhu requests your presence.”
Jin Guangyao pressed his lips together. “Thank you for informing me,” he said. “I’ll be there momentarily.”
“Yes, Lianfang-zun.”
He paused to collect himself. He would need to check his appearance, make sure it was immaculate. He could hardly arrive looking as though he’d come from a sickbed.
“What’s going on,” Xue Yang said, dark eyes watchful and wary, tense, though he appeared to have given up on trying to rise.
“I need to go,” Jin Guangyao said. “I have an appointment-”
“You’re leaving?” Xue Yang said. Jin Guangyao winced.
“I have to,” he repeated. “You will stay here. Rest.” And hopefully he wouldn’t come back to a corpse. He suppressed the odd pang and steeled himself. “There’s not much I can do-”
Xue Yang was looking at him with an expression of absolute betrayal. Not surprise, of course. But still betrayal. Jin Guangyao had the urge to apologize and suppressed it, hard.
“Try to sleep,” he said, keeping his voice firm. “I’ll seal the room. No one will come in except for me.”
“Fuck you,” Xue Yang said miserably. “Rip your guts out.”
Jin Guangyao felt his face spasm toward a reflexive smile for the briefest of moments before he said, “I’d rather you didn’t. I’ll come back when I can.”
Xue Yang curled up after giving him one last baleful look. Jin Guangyao refused to feel guilty.
He was, however, slightly distracted for the first part of the meeting. He would have to see about finding who had left the candied ginger in his rooms.
Maybe when he found out he would let Xue Yang deal with it.
(Provided Xue Yang could.)
Xue Yang was not dead when Jin Guangyao returned. He was curled up in his nest of blankets sleeping, peacefully it seemed, though he still looked fever-flushed. His breathing was deep and even, though, and he didn’t wake when Jin Guangyao came in.
He poured himself some tea and stood at a safe distance from his dozing demonic cultivator. He looked better than he had when Jin Guangyao had gone. It seemed likely now that he would survive.
He let himself register the relief. Some faint part of him thought well, surviving is what we do, isn’t it, and he brushed it aside.
Xue Yang was going to be furious about this. All of it, including the weakness Jin Guangyao had witnessed. Ideally, he wouldn’t remember much.
No; he wouldn’t leave that to chance. There were ways of ensuring he forgot, if necessary.
Xue Yang snuffled quietly, his face scrunching up and then relaxing as he settled back down again. Jin Guangyao felt his lips twitch toward a smile. Like this, you could almost mistake him for nothing more than an innocent, sweet-faced young man.
There was a peculiar sadness to the thought.
Jin Guangyao considered waking him and telling him to leave. He couldn’t just stay here and convalesce in Jin Guangyao’s chambers. He shouldn’t be here at all. By rights Jin Guangyao should have had him removed immediately, regardless of his protests, even if explaining his presence at all would have presented something of a challenge.
He let the sleeping Xue Yang lie and went to his desk to work. He woke not long after, stirring with a sort of “mmh” noise and then uncurling, head turning. One eye was just visible through the tangles of his thick hair.
“Chengmei,” Jin Guangyao said cautiously. Xue Yang squinted at him. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” Xue Yang said. He sounded grumpy, but not angry, at least not yet. He paused, expression clearing a little. “Did someone poison me?”
“I think someone was trying to poison me,” Jin Guangyao said. “Your involvement was a mistake.”
“Dogfucker,” Xue Yang said. He looked briefly like he was going to be sick; Jin Guangyao was relieved to see him fight it back down. He still seemed groggy, disoriented.
“What do you remember?” he asked, because if he needed to manage Xue Yang’s temper then it would be better to start the damage control sooner rather than later.
Xue Yang made a face. “Started feeling off. I remember thinking I needed to get somewhere to ride it out. After that not a lot.” He looked down at himself and then said, tone shifting slightly, “did you tuck me in, Lianfang-zun?”
Jin Guangyao kept his expression impassive, though he could feel his face starting to get hot. “You wouldn’t allow me to fetch a physician without threatening to kill them. I decided to deal with you myself rather than the risk of losing one of them.”
“Aww,” Xue Yang said, starting to smile, though he still looked too sick for the grin to really land. “That’s so sweet.”
“You’re too valuable to lose to an inept assassination plot,” Jin Guangyao said stiffly. Xue Yang’s lopsided grin widened, but remained lopsided.
“Ah, the generous, gracious-”
“Don’t make me regret it,” Jin Guangyao said, more sharply than he would have allowed himself with anyone else. Xue Yang huffed out but he seemed relaxed enough. So either he didn’t remember enough to feel ashamed of showing weakness or he had decided to pretend as much; either way was to the good.
“Any idea whose inept assassination plot I foiled?” Xue Yang asked after a few moments. His tone was casual, but Jin Guangyao knew better than to believe that meant innocence.
“Not yet.”
“Too bad.” Xue Yang started to push himself up and quickly stopped. He did push his hair back out of his face. “I had some great ideas for how you could deal with them.”
Jin Guangyao eyed Xue Yang and this time he could see the edges of unease and tension. He leaned back slowly, careful not to make it an obvious reaction.
“Mm,” he said. “Well. When I have more information, I’ll let you know.” He paused, and said, “absent evidence, it would be challenging to justify retaliation.”
Xue Yang’s face went blank and he let out a bitter-sounding laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Lucky them.”
“At least,” Jin Guangyao said, “officially.”
Xue Yang cocked his head slightly to the side. His expression brightened, even washed out and sick-looking as he was.
“Officially,” he said.
“Mm,” Jin Guangyao said. He looked down at the missive he’d been reading, and picked up a brush. Xue Yang laughed.
“You’re so nice to me, Lianfang-zun,” he said, but light as it was Jin Guangyao thought he was genuinely pleased. “Does this mean we’re friends?”
“Either go back to sleep or get out,” Jin Guangyao said. “I have work to do.”
He didn’t look up for a while. When he did, it was to find Xue Yang asleep again.
It was an almost alarming sort of trust, from him.
He couldn’t help but be flattered.