Chapter Text
“Jin Ling, behind you!”
Jin Rulan ducked, narrowly avoiding the arms of the fierce corpse that had come up behind him. He cursed his own absent-mindedness as he spun around and pulled out Suihua, slashing through the corpse’s legs. It fell to the ground with an ear-splitting shriek. From his right, Lan Sizhui tossed a talisman at the corpse, and it was engulfed in flames as soon as the paper made contact with its grey skin.
Rulan spun around to see Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen finishing off another corpse and Wen Ning ripping the arms off a third. He surged forward, slicing the head off of the corpse Wen Ning was facing off with as he tossed it’s arms into the blaze from Sizhui’s talisman. The torso fell to the ground with a muted thud.
“Was that the last of them?” he asked, stopping the head from rolling too far away with his foot.
“Looks like it,” Sizhui said with a nod.
“What were such a high number of fierce corpses doing in such a remote area?” Zizhen asked, wiping dirt off his robes while Jingyi threw the last corpse onto the burning pile.
“The better question,” Jinyi said, shooting a raised eyebrow his way, “is where was the Young Mistress’s head? Since when do you need Sizhui to tell you when there’s a fierce corpse behind you?”
“Shut up,” Rulan said, feeling heat rise in his face. It was all Jingyi’s fault he’d been distracted anyway.
Jingyi, of course, ignored him. “I think you’ve been spending too much time in political meetings and not enough working on your cultivation,” he continued.
“Back off!” he snarled, stepping toward Jingyi and gripping his sword tighter. “You don’t know anything! As if an idiot like you could run a sect!”
“Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui cut in, stepping between the two. “Jin Ling works just as hard as the rest of us. He’s been very busy lately. We should be happy he was able to come help us with this case.”
Jingyi shrugged, shooting a smug look at Jin Rulan over Sizhui’s shoulder. Rulan shot him a rude hand gesture in return.
“A-Yuan, Lan-gongzi,” Wen Ning spoke up, saving Jingyi from a beating, “why don’t you make sure all the resentment has been cleared out of this area? Ouyang-gonzi, Sect Leader Jin, and I will refill the water pouches for our trip back to the village.”
Rulan continued to fume as Sizhui and Jingyi handed over their water pouches and brought out their guqins. He stomped after Wen Ning toward the small river they’d passed before meeting the group of fierce corpses, tuning out whatever Zizhen was saying to Sizhui and Jingyi behind him. After a moment he ran up beside Rulan.
“Jin Ling,” Zizhen said softly, his Baling accent curving softly around the words. “Don’t take what Lan Jingyi said to heart. He can take his teasing too far sometimes, but he means well.”
The flush rushed back to his face at the reminder of the reason for Jingyi’s teasing.
“It’s fine,” Rulan said through gritted teeth, wanting to brush past it as fast as possible, lest Zizhen realize the real reason for his distraction earlier. He was annoyingly perceptive about these things.
“We all know how hard you’ve been working recently,” Zizhen continued, blessedly oblivious. “If there’s anything you need to talk about.
Rulan’s heart thudded in his chest. He took a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm and not tell Zizhen to get lost. He was one of Rulan’s only three friends, he didn’t deserve to have his head bitten off because of Rulan’s own stupid mistake.
“I know,” he bit out. Then feeling like he’d been too short, added, “Thank you.”
Zizhen patted him on the arm before speeding up to talk to Wen Ning about the case at hand, leaving Jin rulan alone with his thoughts.
He huffed in annoyance. He knew he should have been worried about all the work he’d left behind in Lanling. That it should have been lack of time to train or worrying about keeping the the various sects under him happy, or the snakes in the Jin Sect constantly trying to take his title, but that hadn’t been what had distracted him in the midst of their fight with the fierce corpses at all.
No, instead his stupid traitorous brain had been fixated on a certain annoying Lan who’d grown at least a chi since they’d last seen each other. Instead of being aware of his surroundings he’d been watching Jingyi fight off fierce corpses, watching how he handled his new height and the new breadth of his shoulders so gracefully even though he’d grown so much in such a short time. Rulan cursed himself again. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t afford to be distracted by some infuriating, un-Lan-like Lan disciple and his stupid, perfect Lan face and his stupid, strong Lan arms. Especially when that Lan was one of the few people Jin Rulan could stand to be around and could stand him back, smug teasing aside. The gods must really have it out for him, making him so weak-willed. He’d have to ask Sizhui for some meditation tips before they parted. He just had to make sure Jingyi didn’t overhear, or he’d pester him for a reason and Rulan would absolutely die of shame.
He continued kicking himself about his own idiocy all the way through getting fresh water, all the way through meeting back up with Sizhui and Jingyi, all the way through the journey back to the small village their investigation had brought them to. He pitched into the conversation about the strange activity when asked, even made a suggestion about where to start the next day, but otherwise he was quiet.
As they reached the inn they had already booked for the night and parted ways with Wen Ning, a white-robed figure stepped in front of him, pulling him from his self-deprecating thoughts.
“Hey,” Jingyi said, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot. He turned to make sure Sizhui and Zizhen had gone ahead of them into the inn before continuing. “Listen, I’m sorry about earlier.”
Rulan blinked in surprise. He hadn’t realize how pathetic he’d been acting. Before he could brush it off, Jingyi continued.
“I know you’ve had a lot going on lately, and it’s not like it was your choice to become a sect leader so young.”
He narrowed his eyes at that. “No, it wasn’t.”
Jingyi flinched at his tone, looking down at the ground. Rulan’s sour mood evaporated instantly. He never could stay mad at the idiot for long.
“Ugh,” he huffed, brushing past Jingyi and hitting him lightly on the shoulder. “Forget it, it’s done. Buy me a drink and let’s talk about something else.”
Jingyi clapped him on the back with a relieved smile, spinning around to walk inside with him.
“Whatever you say, Young Mistress.”
———
Jin Rulan was drunk, and Lan Jingyi was still infuriatingly attractive. Somewhere around his fourth cup of wine he’d stopped trying not to stare. The others were too into their drinks notice, anyway. Even Sizhui, who was currently swaying slightly where he sat with Zizhen half sprawled across him. He was gazing adoringly down at Zizhen, who was laughing with Jingyi about something that probably wasn’t even funny. Rulan scoffed when Sizhui reached up to adjust the guan that was at a dangerous angle on top of Zizhen’s head.
“Y’ two are so—hic—gross. Wrse ‘n Hanging—hic—jun ‘n Wei Wuxi’n.”
“Yer jus’ jealous!” Jingyi yelled, waving his arms around and nearly falling over as he did.
Rulan glared at his stupid, pretty face. “Jealous of what? Being obsessed with someone?”
“Of looooove,” Zizhen sang with a giggle, winding his arms around Sizhui’s neck. The restaurant workers looked politely away from the display and Sizhui blushed up to his ears but wrapped an arm around Zizhen’s waist in return. He leaned in to whisper something to Zizhen that had him breaking into another fit of giggles.
“Shameless kids!” Jingyi crowed, slamming back the last of the wine in his cup.
“You’re younger than both of us,” Sizhui pointed out. He spoke so normally Jin Rulan would’ve thought he was sober if not for the flush that hadn’t left his cheeks and the sloppiness of his posture. Despite his protest he moved to stand up, helping Zizhen up after him. The two stumbled up the stairs, giggling and holding hands, and Rulan tried not to think about what they were going to do once they got behind closed doors. It was almost worse than imagining Jiang-jiujiu with someone.
“Another round!” Jingyi yelled when they disappeared up the stairs.
“No, no!” Rulan hurried to say, waving off the innkeeper who approached with another bottle. “Enough. “M tired. Bed.
“Awww—hic—c’mon, Young Mistress. Don’t leave me alone.”
“You should go t’sleep too. Yer drunk.”
“Exactly! Too drunk to sleep. Stay up and talk with me.”
He was doing that thing where he made his eyes all big and pushed his bottom lip out, and Rulan should find it so childish and annoying, but instead he found it impossible to resist.
“You talk—hic—too much,” Rulan said with a shake of his head that made the entire restaurant spin. Maybe laying down wasn’t a good idea for him, after all. “Fine, fine, but let’s go upstairs first.”
He scrambled off the floor, almost managing to get upright before swaying dangerously.
“Woah,” Jingyi’s voice came from above him suddenly. Large hands caught him as he stumbled, then one of his arms was thrown over broad shoulders and they were heading toward the stairs. Jin Rulan tried not to think about the muscles under his arm or the way he almost needed to stretch up onto his toes from their height difference.
“‘Kay, maybe we’ve had ‘nough,” Jingyi admitted as they made their way precariously up the stairs.
“Yer fault,” he said. “Kept pouring more.”
“You told me to buy you a drink!” Jingyi protested loudly in his ear.
Rulan pushed at Jingyi’s face so his hot breath wouldn’t keep blowing distractingly in his ear. “A drink. One. Not a bar’s worth.”
“Well… you kept taking them.”
“‘S rude to refuse a gift.”
“Pfft,” Jingyi scoffed, and even without looking Jin Rulan could tell he was rolling his eyes. “My room or yours?”
He stiffened at the question, his heart thudding in his chest.
“What?”
“Don’t think you’re getting out of keeping me company, Young Mistress. I want to stay up and reminisce about when you were a stuck up princess and I was an impulsive idiot.”
“You’re still an idiot,” Jin Rulan mumbled, but breathed a sigh of relief at his panic going unnoticed. “My room ‘sfine.”
He was feeling better now, the walk up the stairs having cleared his head a little. At least the inn had stopped spinning around him. They shuffled their way to his room, his arm still around Jingyi’s shoulder. He disentangled himself from Jingyi as soon as he was able to, busying himself with putting his sword and his qiankun bag somewhere safe while he composed himself. Just as he was getting a hold of himself he turned around and froze, his carefully collected control slipping away from him. Jingyi had flung off his belt and outermost robe and let his hair down out of its usual high ponytail. Sleek black framed the angular planes of his face and his inner robes hugged close to his body. He stretched his arms over his head and his sleeves slipped down, revealing toned muscles and perfect skin.
Rulan swallowed hard, flicking his eyes away when Jingyi finished his stretch and looked toward him with an easy grin. He wasn’t quite fast enough. Jingyi’s grin turned mischievous and he sauntered forward.
“Something wrong, Jin Ling? You look a little flushed.”
“It’s the wine you kept supplying me with,” Rulan snapped, but he was unable to stop himself from stepping back as Jingyi advanced on him. They continued like that, him taking one step back for every one that Jingyi took forward, until he stumbled over his own feet. His fall was only broken by the fact that he’d nearly backed into the wall at the far end of the room. Jingyi didn’t stop his pursuit, stepping in close with a gleam in his eye.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a horrible liar?” he teased, reaching out and pressing one hand to the wall beside Rulan’s head.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re insufferable?” he shot back. It would have been more impressive if he’d been able to stop his voice from wavering. The air in the room seemed suddenly charged, the air filled with invisible lightning that grew stronger and stronger as the distance between them lessened.
Jingyi’s smirk widened, and he leaned down to bring himself eye to eye with Jin Ling.
“Do you like what you see, Young Mistress?” he teased. Without waiting for an answer he leaned in more, their noses brushing as he lowered his lips toward Rulan’s.
Rulan sucked in a hard breath, his shoulders stiffening as Jingyi’s lips came within a breath of his. Jingyi pulled back at the sound, examining his face, and all he could do was stare up at him with wide eyes, neck craning to meet his gaze with their new height difference. Jingyi’s gaze flicked from his shocked eyes down to his lips and back up to his eyes, suddenly looking chagrined.
“Shit,” he muttered, stumbling back a step. “Sorry, I… we’ve had too much, I shouldn’t… I should go.”
Before he could fully process the words, Jingyi was grabbing up his discarded clothing and guan and rushing out of the room. His forehead ribbon fluttered behind him, and only the gentle scent that always lingered on his hair and clothes was left behind as Rulan tried to figure out what in the heavens had just happened. His heart ached vaguely in his chest and his head spun with a hundred possibilities of what Jingyi’s last words could have meant. After getting nowhere even after several minutes he shook his head, suddenly realizing he was very warm.
Rulan huffed and stomped out of his empty room, shoving the confusing encounter out of his mind and heading downstairs in search of very cold water for a bath.