Chapter Text
The door behind Jingyi opens slowly. Sizhui’s footsteps are measured as he enters the room, and Jingyi doesn’t need to see his face to know that whatever the elders had wanted to talk about hadn’t been good.
He’d guessed as much anyway.
“What is it?” Jingyi asks, turning to look at Sizhui. He studies Sizhui’s slightly shocked, serious expression for one moment and rephrases his question, “who is it?”
“A girl from Qinghe Nie,” Sizhui says. He sets his sword down on the stand by the door next to Jingyi’s.
“I see,” Jingyi says, looking away from Sizhui again and looking out of the window to the mountains beyond.
Jingyi shouldn’t be surprised. It seems as if every matchmaker and mother in China has been paying attention to Gusu Lan since Sizhui became an adult, but the elders have never gotten involved before. They seemed content to let Sizhui make his own choice; Jingyi should have known that wouldn’t last.
“They think it’s important to reestablish good relations with the Qinghe Nie after…” Sizhui trails off tactfully.
“Of course they do,” Jingyi says with a snort. Things have been tense between Zewu-jun and Sect Leader Nie since the Guanyin temple. This union is likely an overture by Sect Leader Nie to try and bridge the gap. Jingyi wonders if Sect Leader Nie had asked about Sizhui specifically or if the elders had chosen him, trusting in Sizhui’s sense of duty.
“Jingyi,” Sizhui says softly, stepping closer to Jingyi.
Jingyi squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to hear this.
“When is the wedding?” he asks. His voice is sharp.
“I-” Sizhui says and stalls.
For a moment, Jingyi lets himself hope that Sizhui told them no. He hopes that for the first time in his life, Sizhui would choose something other than duty. He hopes that Sizhui chose him, chose them, chose the future they were supposed to have together.
“There’s no agreement yet,” Sizhui says softly.
Jingyi lets out a derisive snort. All that means is that the marriage was offered to Sizhui as a choice instead of as an order. The result will be the same.
Jingyi closes his eyes, blocking out the view of the mountains beyond, as the reality of it all washes over him. Sizhui marrying someone else, some nameless, faceless person. His Sizhui… not his anymore.
Sizhui marrying someone and leaving him behind had been a fear of his for many years before they’d confessed their feelings. But in these last few years they’ve been together, that fear had faded. It returns violently now, not as a fear, but as a blade to his heart.
Suddenly it hurts to breathe. Sizhui’s hand is on his shoulder; his shoulder, not his waist, some part of him notices.
“Jingyi, are you okay?”
“No,” Jingyi says. His eyes open, and he looks at Sizhui. He can see worry and something like grief there.
All Jingyi wants is to reach out to Sizhui, to lose himself in Sizhui’s embrace. He considers for a moment staying here for as long as he can, loving Sizhui until the moment he is pulled away. But whether it’s in days or weeks or months, Sizhui will marry someone else and Jingyi will lose him. Sizhui is… someone else’s now.
Gently, Jingyi pushes Sizhui’s hand off his shoulder and stands up. He doesn’t know exactly where he’s going, all he knows is that he can’t stay here and look at Sizhui because all he feels is pain.
“Where are you going?” Sizhui asks, worry creeping into his voice, as Jingyi grabs his sword from the stand.
Vaguely Jingyi wonders if their swords will ever sit side by side like this again. He shoves the thought away as he shrugs.
“Jingyi,” Sizhui says as Jingyi opens the door.
Jingyi looks over his shoulder at Sizhui who is standing in the center of the room, looking as lost and bereft as Jingyi feels.
“Make your choice Sizhui,” Jingyi says, “Choose them or choose me.”
Sizhui doesn’t respond, but his eyes grow shiny with unshed tears.
“You don’t have to say it,” Jingyi says, and his voice sounds bitter in his own ears. “I know.”
Jingyi turns and walks away. His feet carry him over white gravel paths of their own accord. He feels lost, everything that he thought he had, the future he had planned out, all of it ripped away from him in one moment.
He finds himself standing in front of the Hanshi. It has been years since he set foot inside the building, though he had when he was younger. Zewu-Jun had always been especially kind to the orphans of Gusu Lan and had always been rather indulgent with Jingyi, his little cousin.
Jingyi lets his instincts lead him, and he knocks softly on the door. Zewu-Jun appears at the door, and his gentle smile grows softer and sadder when he sees Jingyi standing at his door. Jingyi wonders if he looks as lost as he feels as Zewu-Jun motions for him to come in or if Zewu-Jun simply knows.
“Would you like some tea?” Zewu-Jun asks. “I find it can be soothing.”
Jingyi shakes his head. He doesn’t know what he wants or what exactly drove him here.
“Sizhui told you then,” Zewu-Jun says, and Jingyi nods mechanically. “It is his choice, Jingyi. I won’t let them force him.”
“They knew what he would say when they chose to ask him,” Jingyi says. “He believes he owes Gusu Lan a life debt for taking him in. They knew that, and they still asked despite… despite… ”
Zewu-Jun inclines his head slightly. He doesn’t rebuke Jingyi for his voice being slightly too loud or for his hard tone.
“I didn’t mean for it to come to this, Jingyi,” Zewu-Jun says.
“I know,” Jingyi says. He does not say ‘it’s not your fault’ because it doesn’t feel true, not right now. Not when he’s hurting and angry and the only reason he’s losing the one person who matters most to him is the fractured trust of Zewu-Jun and Nie Huaisang.
“I’d like your permission to leave,” Jingyi says the words before he thinks them, surprising himself.
“And go where?” Zewu-Jun asks.
It is a reasonable question, but Jingyi doesn’t have an answer, so he just shrugs. He is being horrible rude, but Zewu-Jun says nothing.
“I just can’t,” Jingyi says. He can’t watch Sizhui choose someone else. He’s not ready to see someone else in his place by Sizhui’s side. Not yet, not when the pain is so raw.
Zewu-Jun’s expression is infinitely understanding.
“You have my permission to go, Jingyi. But I ask you to take care. Don’t run off into the night without any preparation even if it seems like the best answer right now. And when you are ready, Gusu is always your home.”
It doesn’t feel like it. But Jingyi doesn’t say it. Zewu-Jun is being generous and kind, giving Jingyi what he wants- needs- without pressuring him. Jingyi bows to Zewu-jun, his cousin, his sect leader, and turns to leave again. Zewu-Jun doesn’t stop him.
Jingyi hesitates on the path outside, not sure where to go. He can’t go back to the rooms he shares with Sizhui even though he wants to more than anything. His feet carry him through the winding paths and out of the Cloud Recesses proper. He picks his way up a narrow mountain path to the small house that had been his parents’. It’s closed up and dusty from disuse. But he sits on the small porch and stares at the sky until it starts to purple with twilight. He stays there as the stars begin to twinkle across the sky and the moon rises.