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When Nie Huaisang is six years old, his baba sits him on his knee and tells him that he must never tell anyone about what happens in the castle walls.
The conference is to be held in Qinghe, though not in the Unclean Realm itself, gods forbid any outsider should set foot in its belly, his father once said, and Huaisang is old enough to talk, though he still mostly travels around the halls clinging onto his brother’s back. This means he is a risk, but he cries and cries when they suggest he stays in his rooms all week, and da-ge begs their parents to let him make friends with the other young nobles his age.
Da-ge only has one friend, the prince from Gusu, but his face lights up every time he mentions him, and Huaisang wants one for himself, so he readily agrees to be good if he can meet the others.
-
The day before they arrive, mama stands him on a little stool and he helps her wash the mulberries that they’ve picked from the only grove in Qinghe.
“We named you after these, A-Sang,” she says fondly. “Because we want you to live a beautiful, sweet life. And then get eaten up!”
She pops a berry into his mouth and he giggles wildly.
“Don’t eat me, mama,” he says brightly, and she ruffles his hair.
“Never,” she says, and kisses his cheek.
-
When the delegates arrive through the Qinghe gates, Huaisang is holding onto his brother’s hand and vibrating with excitement.
“You have to remember to be careful,” his brother tells him, kneeling down so they’re at eye level. “You can’t tell anyone what the family does, okay? What we really do.”
“Yes, da-ge.”
“What do you say if someone asks?”
“Qinghe exports iron from the mountains and has a proud history of butchers producing high quality meat,” Huaisang reels off, pleased with himself for remembering.
“Good boy.” Da-ge pinches his cheek. “You’re very clever, didi.”
Huaisang straightens his back and shoulders like a good little prince, and waits for the others to reach them.
Lan Xichen comes over straight away to embrace da-ge, and he’s holding the hand of another boy Huaisang’s age.
“A-Sang, this is Lan Wangji,” says his da-ge, eyes searching his face for anxiety. “Would you like to say hello?”
“Hello!” Huaisang half shouts, and Lan Wangji stares at him with an expression Huaisang can’t quite read, then nods minutely, and steps behind his brother’s leg.
“Wangji is a little shy,” Lan Xichen says bashfully. “Don’t worry about it, Huaisang.”
“Lan Zhan!”
A voice shouts somewhere behind them, and before Huaisang can react, a small boy in black and red and another in purple crash into them so hard that da-ge has to steady him on his feet again. He recognises the purple as Yunmeng’s colours. The black and red is a mystery.
“Hi,” the boy in black and red says, breathless. “Lan Zhan, would an honourable young heir deign to play with a lowly disciple like this one?”
Lan Wangji seems to take a moment to consider, then takes his hand and walks away.
“Ah,” Lan Xichen says, a touch awkwardly. “Yes, I’m afraid Wei Wuxian has...cast something of a spell over him.”
Da-ge hesitates, like he’s not sure what to do.
“We can play,” says the boy in purple, very softly.
“Oh!” Lan Xichen says, then smiles. “This is Jiang Cheng.”
“Okay,” Huaisang says, and smiles widely at him, so Jiang Cheng will be able to see where he’s lost a tooth.
“You two stay close,” his brother says. “Didi, why don’t you show your guest the mulberry groves?”
Huaisang nods enthusiastically, then gestures for Jiang Cheng to follow him.
“Is Wei Wuxian your brother?” Huaisang asks as they walk.
“Kind of,” Jiang Cheng replies, and doesn’t really explain. Huaisang thinks he sounds like he doesn’t want to, so he lets it go.
“Are you an heir?” he tries instead. “I am, but da-ge’s first, so I’ll never have to do it.”
“Oh,” Jiang Cheng says softly. “I will. I’m next in line.”
“What?!” Huaisang turns and looks him up and down. “But you’re only little.”
“A-die says it won’t be for many years,” Jiang Cheng scowls. “And Wei Wuxian will help me, because he’s very good at these things.”
He still sounds sad. Huaisang hopes the grove will cheer him up.
“We grow mulberries here,” he tells Jiang Cheng as they walk. “They’re the best in China.”
“How?” Jiang Cheng asks.
Huaisang stiffens.
“I’m not allowed to tell you,” he says. “It’s a family secret.”
Jiang Cheng scowls.
“Sorry,” Huaisang mumbles. “Baba said I can’t tell anyone ever.”
They reach the biggest tree and Huaisang sits down under it, then lies down and stretches his fingers to touch the bark.
“It’s pretty,” Jiang Cheng says quietly. “Do you make silk?”
“It’s one of our major exports,” Huaisang recites. Da-ge is going to be very proud of him.
In a tree above, a bird chirps and swoops down just past their heads before disappearing into the blue again.
“Are birds your favourite?” Jiang Cheng asks, probably because he catches Huaisang smiling up at the sky.
“Yeah,” he says. “What’s your favourite?”
“I like dogs,” he says, but his voice wobbles and Huaisang looks at him questioningly. “But when baba brought Wei Wuxian home, I had to get rid of mine. He’s too scared. He’s a coward.”
Jiang Cheng scowls impressively, and flops down next to him in the grass.
“One day,” Huaisang says decisively, “One day, we will live together in the palace, and you can have all the dogs you want, and I will have birds.”
“Okay,” Jiang Cheng says, and he smiles properly for the first time since they met, and Huaisang thinks he can’t wait for the day to come.
-
Huaisang supposes he must have prophetic powers, because a marriage is arranged between them when they are sixteen.
Baba and mama are gone, but he has da-ge to look after him, and the disciples like to slip him gifts, so he feels he can’t complain.
Besides, Jiang Cheng is set to arrive with his delegation soon, and the local rumour has it that he is bringing betrothal gifts. Huaisang has always been easily swayed by pretty things. He learned when he was fourteen that this was the reason they told him the Qinghe secret so young, even though he ran his mouth about most everything else.
But he has something else to do first.
A young merchant from Qinghe had passed away the previous night of what they’re calling unknown causes. Huaisang joins the public mourning with a white ribbon in his hair, threaded into the cold metal of his crown, then proceeds on to the body.
“You’re very good at speaking to them,” his brother observes, wrapping the body in silk and preparing to lift it over his shoulder. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“They trust us,” Huaisang says simply. “They’re stupid like that.”
“When did you get so cynical?” Da-ge strokes his hair. “Are you worrying about your betrothal again?”
“I’m pretty sure this duty does it to you, da-ge,” Huaisang says dully. “Start lifting.”
They carry it somewhat ceremoniously back to the Unclean Realm, then into the dungeons beneath it.
“This should tide him over for a few weeks,” Huaisang says, activating the talisman on the door.
Da-ge just looks sad.
There’s a horrible wailing sound from within the depths of the dungeon.
Da-ge lays the body down gently at their feet.
“We brought you someone, baba!” Huaisang calls into the dark.
The dark roars back.
Da-ge leads him away when it’s over, and they let the blood soak into the soil in the mulberry grove.
-
Jiang Cheng kisses him when he arrives, like he’s something sacred. His fingers are calloused from hard work, but Huaisang’s are soft. Their sacrifices do everything for them.
“How are you?” Jiang Cheng asks, cupping his face. “I am sorry I couldn’t visit sooner. Lotus Pier required a lot of attention after the sieges.”
Huaisang nods sympathetically. Lotus Pier had been badly burned, and Jiang Cheng had been preoccupied rebuilding it from the ground up. Qinghe had not burned. They tell people it’s just because of the stone. It’s not entirely a lie.
“I’m well,” he says, and shifts so that the fabric falls over his hand and hides the drying splash of blood on his wrist. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” Jiang Cheng says, smiling reverently, and Huaisang lets his hands start to wander.
When Jiang Cheng touches him, he doesn’t have to think about what he’s done.
-
Jiang Cheng has never stayed in the second young master’s chambers before, which makes this a nice change, except for the fact that baba is restless.
“What is that noise?” Jiang Cheng asks. He’s sitting bolt upright, though one of his hands still rests on Huaisang’s hip.
“Maybe it’s a ghost,” Huaisang teases, and then at Jiang Cheng’s expression, adds, “A wolf? The wind? I don’t know.”
“It sounds like a person,” Jiang Cheng murmurs.
“It’s not,” Huaisang grumbles, trying to pull him back down. “Aren’t handsome young princes supposed to be braver than this?”
“A-Sang-” Jiang Cheng starts, but looks unsure of himself. “Shouldn’t we look?”
“I’m just the spare,” Huaisang shrugs. “It’s not my job to investigate weird noises.”
Jiang Cheng hesitates, then lies down next to him and pulls him close against his chest.
“Are you going to inherit the kingdom one day?” Jiang Cheng whispers.
“Yes,” Huaisang says eventually, after a long pause. “Unless da-ge has a child very soon. They need a king. He won’t live forever.”
He won’t live very long either, but Huaisang can’t bring himself to say that.
“It’s okay,” Jiang Cheng says. “It’s not so bad.”
He’s already inherited his throne. He’s also lying. Huaisang can always tell.
“Thank you,” he says anyway, and interlinks their fingers. “You remember when we were kids? And we were going to get dogs and birds?”
“I remember.” Jiang Cheng smiles against his neck. “Are there spiritual dogs in Qinghe?”
“I could find one,” Huaisang says idly. “I tend to get what I want.”
“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” Jiang Cheng says fondly.
There’s another wailing sound from the dungeons.
Jiang Cheng looks at him with wide, worried eyes.
“It’s nothing,” Huaisang repeats, burrowing into his warmth. “It’s okay.”
Jiang Cheng holds onto him like he’s a soft toy, and Huaisang wraps his arms around Jiang Cheng’s larger ones.
They fall asleep to the sounds of it.
-
“How do you keep this maintained?” Jiang Cheng asks in the morning.
They’re in the mulberry grove, Jiang Cheng picking berries from the tree as Huaisang pulls flowers from the ground.
“We have to take good care,” Huaisang says. “We wouldn’t be one of the great sects if we didn’t have our exports.”
“Right, but-” Jiang Cheng hops down so he’s standing next to him. “How do you keep them growing out of season? And how are there so many?”
“Ah, Jiang Cheng!” Huaisang taps him on the nose with his fan. “Family secret.”
Jiang Cheng is starting to look a little frustrated with him.
“Cheer up,” Huaisang tells him, and he takes a mulberry from the basket and pops it into Jiang Cheng’s mouth. “Really, A-Cheng. You’re worrying about nothing.”
Jiang Cheng smiles at him, and Huaisang feels the first needle of guilt stab at his heart.
Some of the mulberries in the basket are rotting.
-
The lie, as it turns out, only ends up lasting for a few days once Jiang Cheng has arrived in Qinghe.
They’ve been so good at hiding it before, but it’s different now that it’s baba. Huaisang and da-ge visit him more than they strictly should, and he gets more distressed than the last one when they’re not there.
This is the beginning of the end really, because Huaisang makes the mistake of sneaking away from Jiang Cheng’s arms and going down to the dungeons.
Jiang Cheng is a deep sleeper, so it’s more cold than it is difficult to extract himself from his arms and sneak down the hallway, lighting his way with a candle.
He drops the candle somewhere along the way in the dark, but he knows the route like the back of his hand.
He activates the talisman at the door and, certain that no one will follow him down here at this hour, leaves it just a little open in case he needs to make a quick escape.
At the end of the hall, he opens the second door and shuts this one behind him before turning to face his father.
“Baba,” Huaisang says. “The berries aren’t ripening.”
His father growls at him. There’s blood around his eyes.
“We can’t bring you someone else,” Huaisang tells him. “That’s not fair. You said it would only be on full moons.”
Silence.
“You said that!” Huaisang yells. “When I was little! You promised!”
His father, barely looking human these days, turns away and faces the wall. The chains around his wrists are dirty.
“Let me clean those,” Huaisang says softly, never able to hold onto his anger. “They’ll get infected.”
His father growls when he approaches, but he lets him.
“Here’s the thing, baba,” he says as he wipes his arms with a cloth. “I don’t want this to happen to da-ge.”
No answer.
“But I don’t want the grove to die,” he continues. “And I know this is what happens to the kings.”
His father grunts.
“So,” he says. “Where do we go from here?”
“It’s a curse,” says a voice in the doorway, and Huaisang whips around to see Jiang Cheng. “I knew it.”
“A-Cheng,” Huaisang gasps, jumping to his feet.
“That’s your father!” Jiang Cheng cries. “What’s wrong with him?”
Before Huaisang can suitably bullshit an answer, Jiang Cheng’s eyes fall upon what’s left of the young merchant whose body they had taken.
“Did he…” Jiang Cheng’s voice is shaking. “Did he eat him?”
“He has to!” Huaisang says defensively. “It’s the only thing they eat when the curse takes them.”
“Explain.”
“This is what we do,” Huaisang whispers. “The kings change early. They eat our people. And we give the blood to the grove as proof. He...he has to, or he’ll starve!”
“So let him starve!” Jiang Cheng yells. “This is...what have you done?”
“My family have done this for generations,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “This is all that keeps us even in the same league as Yunmeng!”
“It’s not worth it.” Jiang Cheng shakes his head.
“I love you,” Huaisang says pathetically.
“This was arranged,” Jiang Cheng spits, a fact that never comes up between them because they’ve always loved each other so sincerely.
“That doesn’t matter!” Huaisang begs, and the tears in his eyes blur his vision. “I love you so much, A-Cheng.”
“It’s me or...whatever this is.”
There are tears in Jiang Cheng’s eyes, and Huaisang knows what he has to do.
He steps aside.
He steps aside, and Jiang Cheng plunges his sword into his father’s chest.
The howl that the Nies let out must shake the palace.
“A-Sang,” Jiang Cheng says, when the blood stops rushing in his ears.
“We have to go,” Huaisang says faintly. “When da-ge and the disciples find out…”
“We’ve destroyed Qinghe’s empire,” Jiang Cheng murmurs. He looks a little stunned. “I’m so sorry, A-Sang.”
“Don’t look at me,” Huaisang murmurs.
“I’m sorry-”
“Don’t!”
And he flees from the room, out past the door with the talisman, and along the halls, and out into the courtyards where he smells smoke and-
Jiang Cheng catches up with him as he takes in the sight of the mulberry grove burning.
“I dropped my candle,” Huaisang whispers. “I didn’t even think.”
“It wasn’t you,” Jiang Cheng says, and Huaisang knows he’s right.
The grove is past saving. The trees are barely husks now.
He doesn’t feel sad. He feels like some awful knot in his chest has loosened, like something has been lifted from his shoulders.
“It’s gone,” he says. His voice is scratchy from the smoke. “It’s all gone.”
Jiang Cheng wraps an arm around him.
-
The rumour that spreads around the five kingdoms, now the four kingdoms, is that Qinghe has been placed under a curse. What many don’t know is that the curse has been lifted.
The Nies lose their position as a great kingdom, or even as a kingdom at all, but it seems that Nie Mingjue is rather at peace as a swordsmith. His brother and his betrothed are never heard from again.
Nothing grows where the old mulberry grove was. They build a new kingdom on that ground.
The air still smells of smoke.