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“She is a doctor,” Jiang Yanli said, hands tightly fisted to keep from showing how badly they were trembling. “She can help us.”
She stood in the makeshift hall of the Sunshot Campaign’s current base, staring down the four sect leaders arrayed before her. Every bit of the political and social knowledge she had gathered while growing up spun through Jiang Yanli’s head as she worked through the best ways to gain their support.
Jiang Cheng would side with her—family was family—even if he didn’t agree with her, but she was certain he did. Those two truths, along with the debt they owed to Wen Qing, as the woman who had saved their lives after the burning of Lotus Pier, made it impossible for Jiang Cheng to truly stand against her.
Jin Zixuan would likely come around as well. He was kind, beneath the years of Lanling politics that had left him unaware of the finer nuances of politeness and a tongue that stumbled over itself. Jiang Yanli could turn his head with a smile, even now that they were not formally engaged. She didn’t care about the marriage alliance one way or the other right now; she just cared about defending Wen Qing and her people from the horrors visited upon other prisoners of war.
The challenge would be Nie Mingjue, Jiang Yanli thought. He was a stalwart ally, a powerful sword at their side. However, he was rigid; one was either his friend or his foe or someone he cared not for at all. Jiang Yanli knew he liked her—most people did, because she made an effort to be likeable—but that wouldn’t be enough in the face of his rightful hatred of the Qishan Wen.
To secure Nie Mingjue’s approval, she would need to sway Lan Xichen.
Jiang Yanli met his gaze. Lan Xichen, with his placid smile and sharp eyes and deep thoughts, could quell any anger in a moment if he chose.
He considered her, that smile fading into a sigh. “How can you guarantee that she will help us?” Lan Xichen asked. “I understand that your family owes her a debt, but that is not enough.”
“I would stand surety with my life,” Jiang Yanli said, and shifted to glare at Jiang Cheng as he stood up with an inarticulate shout. “I know, Wanyin,” she added, leaning on his courtesy name. She almost never had reason to use it. Here, however, it was the most appropriate choice. “I trust her.”
“A-Jie…” Jiang Cheng folded his arms over his chest, just like she remembered him doing as a child. “Have you talked to Wen-guniang about this? Has she agreed?”
Jiang Yanli inclined her head. She and Wen Qing had argued about this the night before, whispering heated words across the prison bars. Jiang Yanli was not supposed to be there. Wen Qing was not supposed to be unguarded enough for such a conversation. Jiang Yanli had snuck in anyway—she had needed to make sure Wen Qing was being treated halfway decently, which she wasn’t—and Wen Qing had railed against Jiang Yanli’s choice just as fiercely as Jiang Cheng.
Not that Jiang Yanli was going to tell them that.
“I thought it best to seek permission first,” Jiang Yanli said with a bright smile. Then she lowered her eyes and added, “However, I may have mentioned to a few of my friends helping with the wounded that we had captured a Qishan Wen doctor. They all found the idea of another set of skilled hands very pleasing, no matter the source of such skill.”
“She could poison us all,” Nie Mingjue growled, leaning on Baxia’s hilt. The saber dug into the stone before him, even in its sheath. “Why let her have access to our wounded?”
“Have you been in the infirmary, Nie-zongzhu?” Jiang Yanli tilted her head to the side. Here, at least, she was on firm ground. She might not be highly skilled at anything seen as worthy in the violent world of her brothers, but she knew people and she had tended to injured hearts and bodies her whole life. “Have you heard the cries of the injured, seen the blood on the beds and the rush to ensure that everyone gets as much treatment as possible? Your warriors are good, Nie-zongzhu, but even the best warrior may have a bout of ill luck after so many days in the field.”
Jiang Cheng winced, because he did know; she had spent enough nights raging about needing more supplies and people willing and able to do healing work. Jin Zixuan paled and looked down at his hands, which clenched uselessly in his lap. Lan Xichen let out a soft sigh—resignation, acknowledgement—and that meant that Nie Mingjue only slammed Baxia into the ground once before settling back into his seat with a “Hmph!”
“Jiang-zongzhu, you have met Wen-guniang.” Lan Xichen turned, quiet and self-possessed, and Jiang Yanli thought this might just work after all. “What are your thoughts?”
He hadn’t been awake for much of their stay in Yiling. Jiang Yanli met her brother’s eyes, silently asking him to put aside the overwhelming grief and pain he’d experienced there, and saw his jaw firm. “Wen-guniang would not harm someone unprovoked.” Jiang Cheng smiled thinly and looked at Jin Zixuan. “Jin-gongzi, she may refuse to work with those who captured her.”
“Understandably so.” Jin Zixuan had grown so much since the war’s beginning, to simply nod his head and ruefully accept his cousin’s sins upon his own back. He tilted his head in consideration as he continued speaking. “But, as Lan-zongzhu pointed out, there are many families here. Lessening the load on our sect’s doctors would still be a boon.”
Nie Mingjue growled. “Do we have any way to control her?”
Jiang Yanli bit her lip. They did, but she knew far too well how painful it would be to bind Wen Qing through Wen Ning.
Jiang Cheng studied her—he, too, knew the debt they owed Wen Ning—then said, “Allow Wen-guniang out only under escort. Give her a month’s trial before we reassess. Keep the rest of her people under guard, but do not move them out of her sight.”
It was the best compromise. Wen Ning might still be imprisoned, but it wasn’t personal. Jiang Yanli relaxed, finally, when Lan Xichen nodded thoughtfully. “You are willing to stay with her at all times she is unshackled?” he asked, looking straight at Jiang Yanli.
“Yes.” Jiang Yanli bowed formally. “Of course.”
“Any objections?”
Jiang Yanli glanced up through her lashes, not rising from the bow, and saw Jin Zixuan gesture agreement. Jiang Cheng was a given. Nie Mingjue snorted, but he shook his head.
Lan Xichen smiled. “Then let it be done. Would you like to personally tell Wen-guniang of this bargain, Jiang-guniang?”
“I would be honored.” Jiang Yanli deepened her bow momentarily, then rose. “Thank you, zongzhu.”
“Tomorrow morning, she will be allowed out of the cells.” Lan Xichen stood, which everyone took to signal the end of this meeting. “Farewell, Jiang-guniang.”
“Farewell,” Jiang Yanli replied, and then retreated before any further debate could ensnare her.
She made her way through the village the war camp had become, dodging between tents and shacks and busy people. Jiang Yanli returned some greetings from those she knew, nodded at those she didn’t, and at last arrived at the most substantial building in the area: the prison.
Today’s door guard was a young Gusu Lan woman, which Jiang Yanli was grateful for; it meant protocol and procedure would be enough to carry her inside. Jiang Yanli bowed, and introduced herself, and mentioned that Lan-zongzhu had given her permission to speak with Wen Qing, and that was all she needed to say. Lan Cuiying’s fingers traced a shape Jiang Yanli assumed would discern lies, and then Lan Cuiyang nodded sharply and invited her inside.
Jiang Yanli let herself be shuffled through the too-small spaces between cells and to a room she suspected was usually used as an interrogation chamber. “Please sit, Jiang-guniang,” the guard—a youth named Nie Xuefeng—said, more softly than she’d expected. “I’ll fetch the prisoner.”
“Thank you,” Jiang Yanli said, and sat on the mostly-clean chair. She held herself still and upright, as befit her upbringing, and did not allow her temper—no less part of her than Jiang Cheng’s, though better-controlled by necessity—to rise through her chest and into her face.
Seeing Wen Qing in proper light almost undid all that control.
She was beautiful, of course, underneath the ragged clothes and the bruises. Wen Qing stood straight, though Jiang Yanli could see the way she favored one leg and the catch in her breath when she inhaled. Her eyes widened, ever so briefly, upon seeing Jiang Yanli; she must not have been told why she was being pulled out of the cell.
Jiang Yanli’s heart hammered in her chest, and she wanted to tell the young Nie holding Wen Qing’s arm to release her immediately. She couldn’t. The words wouldn’t leave her throat, and her body was fixed in place, and it would undo too much work to show how deeply she cared about Wen Qing.
“Wen-guniang,” she managed instead, as Wen Qing was shoved onto a ratty stool. She didn’t want to use that much distance and formality; she wanted to call A-Qing and run her handkerchief over the grime obscuring Wen Qing’s lovely face and press kisses to the bruises on her skin. “It’s been too long.”
The last time they’d publicly met had been in the Cloud Recesses’ summer seminars. The last time they’d shared intimacy had been in Yiling. The last time they’d seen each other had been the previous night.
Jiang Yanli meant her words for all of those times.
Wen Qing looked at her with a slight raise of her eyebrows, then up at the guard still holding her shoulder firmly down. “Is this necessary?” she asked, and beneath the sharpness of her tone Jiang Yanli could hear how tired she was. “I’m bound, hands and qi alike; please allow me some dignity.”
“She won’t do anything to me.” Jiang Yanli smiled at Nie Xuefeng, and tried to keep her anger at the idea of Wen Qing’s qi being bound from leaking into her words. “I am here with a bargain for her—one that our leaders agreed to.”
Wen Qing’s huff of disbelief was almost inaudible underneath Nie Xuefeng’s protest. But he quailed, as most young men did, upon Jiang Yanli fixing him with the stare that could bring both her brothers to heel.
Only once the guard had retreated to stand at the door did Jiang Yanli turn her eyes back to Wen Qing. In the tilt of her head and the slow blink of her eyes, Jiang Yanli read, You mean it? and Jiang Yanli returned the slightest nod before saying, “Tomorrow you will be allowed to leave the prison under my direct supervision. You will be expected to help treat our wounded to the best of your ability. Should you harm anyone or attempt to escape, it will not go well for you or your people. Do you understand, Wen-guniang?”
“I understand.” Wen Qing smiled at her, brilliant and bright and at an angle that the guard wouldn’t be able to see. With her hair drifting around her face to hide the motion of her jaw, Wen Qing mouthed, Thank you.
“My family owes you our lives.” Jiang Yanli took the single step separating her from Wen Qing. She did not kneel—the guard looked scandalized enough as it was—but she did pull out a handkerchief and press it into Wen Qing’s hands. If they touched, and Jiang Yanli felt the slightest squeeze of Wen Qing’s fingers around hers, that wasn’t anyone’s business but theirs. “It was the least I could do.”
“It is more than many would do.” Wen Qing cupped her hands, letting the iron cuffs on her wrists come into full view at last. “Was there any mention of potentially freeing my people? They are not warriors, Jiang-guniang; I’m sure you can see that.”
Jiang Yanli swallowed painfully. “They gave you a month, and then they will pass down judgement.”
Wen Qing’s eyes closed, but not before Jiang Yanli saw the moisture there. “Then I will do my best to prove their worth,” she said. Her eyes opened, and—in a murmur Jiang Yanli knew was meant for her alone—she added, “And give you my proper thanks.”
From the movement of Wen Qing’s gaze along her body, Jiang Yanli knew exactly what kind of thanks she meant. She licked her lips, and hoped that the heat rising in her body wasn’t a blush, and tried to steady her voice as she said, “Then I will see you in the morning.”
Wen Qing smiled and tucked Jiang Yanli’s handkerchief into her robes. “I look forward to it,” she said, and her voice promised many things to look forward to, when they had the time.
Jiang Yanli bowed, then left before Wen Qing’s flirting could arouse others’ suspicions as well as her heart.
The coming days were full of hope, and Jiang Yanli intended to use them to fulfill as many desires as she could.