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When Jin Ling regained consciousness he knew something was wrong.
It was all wrong. A quiet moan escaped his lips, the breathy sound drowned out by the chatter filling his ears. Chatter? There should not be any noise in his chambers. His bed certainly should not move. And it should definitely not smell like this.
Or maybe it should. He was kind of enjoying the smell. Deep and calming, like the forest after it rained. Something woody and comforting.
That was not the point. The point was that an uncomfortable pressure was building in his head, and his mouth tasted of dirt. He regrettably was familiar with that taste – no thanks to Jin Chan and his crew. Disliking the confusion, Jin Ling peeled his gummy eyelids open with effort.
The rest of the details were unveiled. Wobbly, rocky ground wasn’t ideal by any means when one was already dealing with a headache, so he lifted his gaze up. Only the eyeballs moved, since his chin felt like lead and wouldn’t cooperate to give himself more of a perspective than the unappealing view of Mo Xuanyu and Hanguang-jun’s backsides.
Three things were certain: One, Jin Ling was, very clearly, not in his bed in Koi Tower. He was not under his blankets, rather, blanketed by the miasma in the foggy ruins of Yi City. Two, the first thing he saw was that lunatic and Hanguang-jun walking awfully close together in front of him – fingers nearly brushing. Not something he had ever wished to wake up to. Finally, Jin Ling himself was, in fact, not walking, but somehow moving.
He was being carried.
If it was Lan Jingyi he was going to kick him and just crawl.
But no, it wasn’t. He heard Lan Jingyi’s voice further away from him, complaining about how heavy Ouyang Zizhen was. Since the other two were being shameless in front of him, that meant the one who was carrying him was…
Lan Sizhui.
Good. Being carried by Lan Sizhui was good. It was inoffensive, even if Jin Ling was not prepared for it. Even if the realisation gave Jin Ling an ill stomach. He reasoned that the fluttery feeling in his lower dantian was due to the injury he had sustained. The corpse poisoning.
At the memory of the fight, Jin Ling’s dizziness suddenly overcame him. He let his head loll naturally, making his face drop into his new pillow, the space between Sizhui’s neck and shoulder and…
Oh. That was rather nice.
Part of Jin Ling felt rather relieved he was being carried this way, slung over Lan Sizhui’s back with his arms hanging limp and Lan Sizhui’s hands bracing his thighs firmly. The places where they made contact burned – Jin Ling decided it was because he was unused to being touched. The other disciple did not appear to notice he had woken up, so Jin Ling could continue to pretend to be unconscious.
His reasoning: he could delegate the menials. Lan Sizhui would do the walking for him.
Jin Ling briefly entertained pushing himself off as he had done with the lunatic earlier, when another wave of dizziness hit. No, he would just end up stumbling, and then Lan Sizhui would offer to carry him anyway, and Jin Ling would accept because he would practically collapse into his arms, but this time it would be more awkward because they both knew he was awake. He would rather stay put, avoid any unnecessary interaction. Jin Ling was already being carried by the only person here he could stand carrying him, so he ought to not ruin it.
Then the lunatic said something that was probably useless, prompting Lan Sizhui to reply because he was stupidly polite.
When Lan Sizhui spoke, his chest rumbled and Jin Ling’s ear, pressed to his shoulder, could hear it all. He could hear the vibrations in his own throat and he wasn’t sure what he was feeling all of the sudden but he needed to keep himself calm. Before Lan Sizhui realised he was awake.
He wondered if their robes were thick enough to muffle a racing heart. He couldn’t possibly tell with it beating so loudly in his ears.
*
From under his swaying bangs, Jin Ling could see the approaching house. It looked old and dilapidated, and his skin crawled at the thought of entering such a place. What kind of insects would jump at him from the ceiling?
Lan Sizhui stopped as the lunatic and Hanguang-jun went to scope the house. Jin Ling appreciated the slow stop so that he wouldn’t lurch forward. Despite them being the same build, Lan Sizhui never faltered when carrying him, and Jin Ling allowed himself to be mildly impressed.
“Come,” Mo Xuanyu beckoned from the doorway, “hurry and come inside.”
“We’re all suffering from corpse poisoning, but instead of looking for an antidote, he’s searching for glutinous rice,” Lan Jingyi complained.
Jin Ling agreed that Mo Xuanyu was a lunatic whose actions were unexplainable, but if Hanguang-jun was going with it, there must be a good reason. Before his thoughts could wander again, Lan Sizhui started moving. They were going in. To his left, he heard Lan Jingyi trip over the threshold and mentally rolled his eyes.
“Be careful, Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui spoke again. The hairs on Jin Ling’s body stiffened in response. Who told him to have such a deep voice?
“Why would they build such a high threshold? To trip the ghosts and spirits?”
He heard Lan Jingyi approach and kick the ledge.
“You’re correct,” Mo Xuanyu said, and the sound of paper flying through the air reached his ears, followed by the knock of the wooden doors closing. A talisman?
The dust hit Jin Ling first. He scrunched his nose, resisting the urge to sneeze.
Ew. It stank in here.
Jin Ling let his head roll closer to Lan Sizhui’s neck, and the pleasant smell, practically burying his nose in there. He could purr. That was much better.
“The threshold was specifically built to prevent corpses from going outside.”
Jin Ling’s eyes squinted open slightly in surprise. In his periphery, he saw that Lan Jingyi was no longer carrying Ouyang Zizhen. Lan Sizhui had yet to set him down anywhere, however. They were inside. Wasn’t he getting tired of carrying Jin Ling? Not that Jin Ling was complaining, he was rather enjoying being spoiled like this.
“Hmph. Why would anyone build a threshold to prevent corpses from going outside? Wait…”
The resounding scream hurt Jin Ling’s already throbbing head.
“A coffin!”
Jin Ling couldn’t find the energy to be worried about being in such a place. Besides, Lan Sizhui wasn’t panicking, so he shouldn’t panic either. He felt secure in his position on Lan Sizhui’s back.
Mo Xuanyu started laughing.
“It’s just a coffin home, what’s there to be afraid of?”
“Who… who’s afraid?” Lan Jingyi yelled indignantly.
Jin Ling had to stop himself from jumping when a creak suddenly sounded. He reminded himself that it was alright, if anything happened he would simply use Lan Sizhui as a shield.
“I’ve found it. There was some glutinous rice left in the kitchen,” Hanguang-jun’s voice came from the direction of the creak. Jin Ling relaxed.
Lan Sizhui started moving, presumably towards the kitchen. Oh, so that was why he was still carrying Jin Ling – because they hadn’t settled for a place to treat him yet.
Not some other reason.
Shame washed over him as he felt a bit foolish for entertaining any other notion in the first place.
*
“What do you need to put in next?”
“That.”
The commotion caused by the lunatic and Hanguang-jun milling about in the kitchen like some weird, domestic married couple was the best distraction Jin Ling had for his current predicament.
A peek from under his bangs as he was being carried into the room earlier confirmed that his other two companions had decided to settle at a table. There was no place, however, to lay him down properly, and so Lan Sizhui had placed him on the dirty floor, propping Jin Ling up against the wall.
Any grievances Jin Ling had about this were settled by the gentle way Lan Sizhui handled him. He was careful to set Jin Ling down slowly, making sure his back was properly supported upright with a hand on his hip. He’d made sure Jin Ling’s legs were straight, which actually helped the lightheadedness.
And he hadn't left Jin Ling’s side.
“And this,” Mo Xuanyu directed.
“Hanguang-jun is… different from what I expected,” he heard Ouyang Zizhen say quietly, and couldn’t help but agree. The man was, surprisingly, a lot softer than he’d imagined, easily answering Jin Ling’s earlier questions instead of looking at him like just another annoying kid.
And now… now he was playing house with Jin Ling’s regrettable blood sharer.
Jin Ling felt somewhat at ease around the man – even though he shouldn’t have been after he’d been disciplined at Dafan mountain. Maybe it was the miasma, making him so illogical. Still, he could see how Lan Sizhui turned out so well under Hanguang-jun’s wing. He really was a good teacher.
“It’s all because of that Mo Xuanyu,” Lan Jingyi said offhandedly.
“Jingyi, mind your words,” Lan Sizhui scolded. That was another thing that fascinated Jin Ling, how Lan Sizhui could command authority while keeping such a mild-mannered front.
Jin Ling found himself feeling a little envious.
Suddenly, he heard Lan Sizhui take a deep breath and gasp. Before Jin Ling could think any more of it, the smell hit him.
Spicy.
Jin Ling was thankful his eyes were closed, because they threatened to water as the stench invaded his nostrils like the Wens invaded Lotus Pier.
There was a creak from the bench.
“Why are you guys running away?” Mo Xuanyu called out, “everyone gets a bowl.”
Jin Ling couldn’t stop the pain that twisted his neutral mask, both from the spice and his building headache. At least Lan Sizhui was still next to him, he didn’t leave Jin Ling to be assaulted by the chillies on his lonesome.
There was a creak of floorboards approaching him, followed by the shuffle of fabric as someone crouched down to his and Lan Sizhui’s level. He heard another shuffle next to him as Lan Sizhui’s hold on him disappeared. Had Jin Ling not been awake to sit up, he might have fallen sideways with how much his weight had been leaning on the Lan disciple. Hopefully, he hadn’t broken his ruse of unconsciousness.
Then the steam hit his face, the overpowering scent forcing entry into his nasal passages, scaring away the pain that had been coursing through his skull. Realisation dawned on him then – the person who had approached had given Lan Sizhui a bowl of that horribly spicy concoction, and Lan Sizhui was going to feed him. Embarrassment filled Jin Ling at the thought of being fed like a child. His reluctance grew as the heat from the bowl drew nearer. He had no choice, he needed to let himself be fed lest he expose himself. Fed by Lan Sizhui. How many people could say they experienced the same?
Ceramic touched his lips, and Jin Ling’s brows furrowed as he gulped down the hot liquid. Heat crept up his face, both from the spice – Jin Ling had experience with Yunmeng cuisine which was spicy, but nothing like this – as well as the knowledge that Lan Sizhui was feeding him. He didn’t dare examine the latter’s effect on him.
Hold on.
Fucking shit.
His tongue started burning, spreading up his nostrils like the shockwaves of an unforgiving explosion. He could no longer keep up the act as his eyes shot open to see not Lan Sizhui, but Hanguang-jun holding the bowl.
Jin Ling scampered away, “w-what is that? Poison?”
Correction: Hanguang-jun had been feeding him. Now that was something he bet no one had ever experienced before. On second thought, with how weird they were being, maybe Mo Xuanyu had –
Gross. He was not going to think about that.
Lan Sizhui was standing next to him, most likely judging Jin Ling with his perfect – everything. After he had done exactly what Jin Ling thought he wouldn’t do and abandoned him to the chillies. What a bastard.
“What do you mean ‘poison’?” Jin Ling’s head whipped towards Mo Xuanyu, who was standing on the other side of Hanguang-jun with his arms crossed. The three of them together looked like some kind of demented family hell bent on torturing Jin Ling. “This is a special antidote for corpse poisoning.”
He whimpered in fear as the lunatic came closer with the bowl, kneeling in front of him with a creepy smile.
“Glutinous rice porridge.”
“D-Don’t –”
*
“Aaaah!” Jin Ling screamed, regretting letting himself be baited by Mo Xuanyu into peeking through the door. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he remembered the milky white eyeball that had suddenly appeared on the other side of the hole.
“How was it? Exciting?” The lunatic had the nerve to laugh in his ear. Jin Ling’s temper flared, an easier emotion to express than his fear. His trembling could be respectably excused as one of anger.
He rounded on Mo Xuanyu.
“Exciting, my…” his tirade fizzled out as Lan Sizhui came into view in his periphery, with the clear intention of looking through the hole as well. Immediately, Jin Ling changed up his act, not wanting to be overshadowed, obviously. Especially after Lan Sizhui had seemingly tolerated the spicy congee better than he did. Jin Ling was still at loss about that, knowing the diet of the Lans.
“Yes! It was thrilling!” he laughed nervously, puffing his chest with his hands on his hips. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to look weak in front of Lan Sizhui. Probably because he wanted to beat him. No other reason.
As expected Lan Sizhui remained calm at the sight of whatever was outside, while the other two idiots tried to peek as well, emboldened by Lan Sizhui’s example, only to scream and run away.
Hmph. At least Jin Ling could contain himself, he thought smugly.
“Not bad, Sizhui,” Mo Xuanyu praised, “you’ve got guts.”
As he went on another lecture, Jin Ling allowed himself to feel impressed by Lan Sizhui. Not only had he stood his ground, his body language had shifted in anticipation for an attack. This was not somebody who was easily shaken. This was a leader, and Jin Ling wanted to be like that.
Without realising it, Jin Ling had withdrawn his own sword too, reacting to Lan Sizhui’s cue and following his lead. He eyed the other two who had gone behind a pillar to hide.
“Well? Tell me what you saw,” Mo Xuanyu prompted, as Jin Ling sheathed his sword the moment Lan Sizhui withdrew and walked towards him.
“White eyes, a girl,” he snapped, closing his eyes and huffing as he crossed his arms, feeling no patience to play classroom.
“This girl looks like a street beggar,” Lan Sizhui added onto Jin Ling’s statement. “Her tongue was pulled out. The bamboo pole in her hand appears to be a cane.”
Jin Ling’s arms dropped from their tense position as he opened his eyes, vaguely impressed yet again. A movement in his periphery caught his eye, and he turned to see Ouyang Zizhen’s head peek out further from behind the pillar.
“Actually, she looks kind of pretty.”
Jin Ling scoffed internally. Really? They were dealing with a ghost and this buffoon decided the most important thing about it was its attractiveness?
Jin Ling listened to Mo Xuanyu praise the inane comment, and felt a moment of indignance for himself and Lan Sizhui, who had provided much more practical answers. His was short and to the point, while Lan Sizhui provided more detail. His arms had returned to their crossed state, feet remaining pointed in Lan Sizhui’s direction. He knew who he was sticking with if things went bad.
“Now, let’s get on with the real thing,” the lunatic winked.
He and the others gasped as the talisman peeled away from the door and fluttered to the ground.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The doors burst open as wind rushed in, followed by the spectre of a girl, heading right towards them. She looked up and Jin Ling caught sight of her white eyes, her missing tongue –
Jin Ling screamed, eyes squeezing shut as he ran with arms in the air towards safety - in this case, Lan Sizhui. He slammed into a body, faster than he expected considering their distance. Had Lan Sizhui run to him as well? At the thought, he clung tightly, trembling. His eyes blinked open to peer at the thing, then shut again as he squeezed tighter.
Except. This body was a little more delicate than Lan Sizhui’s (he should know, he’d been attached to his impressively muscular back for a long time). He looked at the white fabric in his grip. Correct so far. Then, he looked up – up to Lan Sizhui’s surprised face… and he was still standing in the exact same place a distance away, not having moved at all despite the ghost barging in.
The ghost!
Jin Ling pulled away slightly from who he was clinging to, turning around to peek at the ghost which had settled in front of a coffin, before turning back to meet Lan Jingyi’s eyes.
He and Jingyi let out twin yelps as they jumped away from each other. Jin Ling’s skin crawled in mortification. Hadn’t Lan Jingyi been behind the pillar? Why had he run forward, rounding the pillar towards the ghost like a headless chicken, crashing into Jin Ling as a result? Where was his self-preservation?
Moreover, what would people think of him now? Lan Sizhui had been staring at him, instead of at the ghost, with that blank expression on his face. Obviously because Jin Ling made a spectacle of himself. Jin Ling had screamed like a baby, made himself look like a coward and hadn’t even gotten a hug from Lan Sizhui for it!
Wait.
Who said he wanted a hug from Lan Sizhui?!
*
“He just had to use Empathy instead of Inquiry, that lunatic,” Jin Ling whipped around, complaining.
He hadn’t expected anyone to actually answer him, as tense as the mood was – with Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen guarding the room, and him and Lan Sizhui standing watch to intervene if things went south with Empathy.
“Empathy will allow one to channel themselves through a spirit, to experience their memories instead of asking questions,” Lan Sizhui explained, his deep, calm voice and logical explanation soothing Jin Ling’s nerves despite himself. “It is extremely dangerous but the most effective. Besides, Mo-qianbei said the Clarity Bell will bring them back to consciousness. So don’t worry.”
He hadn’t expected Lan Sizhui to take his eyes off the spell to smile at him reassuringly either, and the odd act made something warm fill his chest. That smile told him Lan Sizhui had seen right through his front and knew that he was concerned. And instead of feeling embarrassed, Jin Ling felt understood.
“Who said I was worried?”
He looked away with a huff, perturbed by the strange feelings.
Still… Jin Ling turned an apprehensive gaze to Mo Xuanyu and Hanguang-jun, wondering if he could trust himself to make the right call. If he could trust the lunatic about the bell really working. Why was Hanguang-jun so trusting of the disgraced cultivator, anyway? Following him into danger like this… Jin Ling both resented and admired it.
He wondered if anyone would do the same for him. An image of Lan Sizhui following him into the cave at Dafan mountain, throwing himself in the path of the statue to save Jin Ling, flashed through his mind. He frowned at the memory.
“You still look troubled.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be watching them?” Jin Ling snapped and regretted it instantly. Lan Sizhui was the only one who was nice to him – Jin Ling ought to be cordial in return. It wasn’t like the concept evaded him. Fighting would also get them nowhere, and cause an unnecessary distraction. Things could go horribly wrong with Empathy. And whose fault would that be? Definitely not perfect, precious Lan Sizhui.
It was frustrating. Jin Ling couldn’t decide if he wanted to like or hate him. He should also stop thinking. Wasn’t he doing what he shouldn’t be doing? Mo Xuanyu and Hanguang-jun were counting on him to be capable. Capable like Lan Sizhui – with his intelligence and kindness and leadership and the corded muscles in his back and his unfairly strong hands that could break Jin Ling’s legs, probably. Jin Ling wanted to be him. Jin Ling wanted –
“Your clarity bell – I’ve never seen one so close before. Could you tell me about it?” Lan Sizhui asked.
Jin Ling walked closer, so Lan Sizhui could see it even closer. He felt the odd urge to contribute to this first time occurrence, and realised only as he stepped up next to white-clad shoulders that he’d been baited in.
“Hmph. They’re worn by all Jiang disciples,” he boasted, eager to have something no one else in the room had. “You know that they stabilise and clear the mind, as well as protect against dark spells. Not all are equal, though. Mine is powerful.”
“That’s impressive.” Jin Ling felt a spark of irritation as Lan Sizhui’s lips quirked upwards in a faint smile. “I feel more confident in the bell, even if I had mastered playing the Song of Clarity on the guqin – I don’t think the song by itself would be powerful or sudden enough, as it is intended to be consumed slowly in low doses.”
The gentleness of his smile had Jin Ling averting his eyes to fight the squirming feeling in his gut. Lan Sizhui continued, “Mo-qianbei and Hanguang-jun are in good hands.”
To his horror, heat crept up his face at the compliment. He struggled for something to say.
“Oh yeah, you have a song for clarity,” he tried to project an air of flippancy, “it makes sense to use the bell for this. It’s my mother’s, so of course it’s strong.”
It couldn’t protect her, a little voice in Jin Ling’s head whispered all of the sudden. Jin Ling brute-forced it down viciously, ignoring the prick of tears in the back of his eyes. He swallowed tightly as doubts began to creep up.
Would it really be okay? Could this little thing save Mo Xuanyu and Hanguang-jun if things got out of hand? Maybe he should have entrusted the bell to someone more competent, like Lan Sizhui. The other disciple had been chosen by Mo Xuanyu earlier, after Jin Ling initially turned down the task, but the very thought of someone else holding his bell made him recoil. He was the Jiang here, he should know how to wield his own magical items. They wouldn’t entrust him with a guqin, would they?
Briefly, Jin Ling considered what the effect of combining his bell and Lan Sizhui’s Song of Clarity would be.
“I like the butterfly.”
“Huh?” Jin Ling was pulled out of his thoughts.
“The butterfly on the bell. It is beautiful.”
He held the bell up against the scene in front of him, noticing the tiny, purple butterfly charm hanging off the tassel that Lan Sizhui had pointed out.
“Oh, that,” he stared at the intricate accessory. “Only the bell part is important. The rest are for decoration – people in the Jiang sect customise it however they like. No two are exactly the same. Common designs are lotus roots, lotus leaves, lotus flowers… you get it.”
“It may not participate in the function, but it shows the wearer’s personality,” Lan Sizhui commented, something tender in his voice. “That itself is quite important – don’t you think?”
Jin Ling blinked, not daring to look at Lan Sizhui at that moment. He kept his eyes on Mo Xuanyu, on the furrow of the lunatic’s brow. It wasn’t time to ring the bell yet, but Jin Ling felt like he would know. He had always been good at noticing people’s feelings.
They were much easier to figure out than his own.
“I-I guess so. My mother liked butterflies. She liked flowers too – lotus flowers – and seeing the butterflies roam,” Jin Ling rambled, a little amazed that Lan Sizhui’s silly questions were actually helping him focus on the present. “My father built her a lotus pond in the garden at Jinlintai. So she could have both.”
His face heated up again, filling his cheeks with steam. Why was he divulging this information? Thankfully, the others in the room didn’t seem to pay them any mind. They were close enough that they could speak in hushed tones without garnering attention.
He didn’t need to look at Lan Sizhui to hear the genuine smile in his voice. “Butterflies are lovely, and that is a very thoughtful gift.”
Jin Ling puffed up in pride. “My father was adept in knowing what my mother wanted.”
They settled into a comfortable silence, Jin Ling feeling lighter despite himself.
“It looks like they are about to – ” Lan Sizhui began at the same time Jin Ling noticed it. They locked eyes briefly, and Lan Sizhui nodded encouragingly. The fluttery feeling in his stomach spread to his chest, but oddly, it wasn’t unwelcome.
There was something about Lan Sizhui that made everything alright.
Jin Ling couldn’t help the smile that warmed his lips as he crouched down and rang the Clarity Bell.
Happiness and relief surged in his chest as the Clarity Bell – his Yunmeng pride – seemed to work, bringing Mo Xuanyu and Hanguang-jun back from Empathy.
“They’re waking up!” Jin Ling exclaimed, beaming brightly in satisfaction.
*
"How are you feeling, Jin Ling?" Lan Sizhui asked, gathering the sleeves of his robes—perfectly white and unwrinkled, Jin Ling noted with a trace of bitterness—up so that he could light the embers without them getting in the way.
“Exhausted,” he said bluntly, the adrenaline of the fight having long worn off. He watched as flames arose from the pile of papers. “I cannot wait to go home and sleep like the dead for three nights.”
That startled a laugh from the Lan disciple.
“Hm, normally, I would discourage that, but I’m tempted to follow in your steps after today,” Lan Sizhui smiled easily, and Jin Ling felt his stomach illness return.
And hang on, was Lan Sizhui joking with him?
Jin Ling was in a bit of a daze as they walked together to the entrance to Yi City, where Hanguang-jun and Mo-qianbei were speaking to Song Zichen in the distance.
The other two of their peer group bounded up to them as well. Jin Ling was in no mood to talk, so he merely crossed his arms and closed his eyes, listening to Lan Sizhui’s deep, calming voice, involuntarily shifting to stand closer.
Then it happened.
Warmth hit his face suddenly as the sun began to rise. Opening his eyes, Jin Ling looked up, only to stare at Lan Sizhui’s face cast in the soft, orange glow.
He was already handsome, in a way that was a little different from what was classically Lan. There was something unique about his fair, refined features that Jin Ling couldn’t quite discern. Nevertheless, the magnetism of Lan Sizhui pulled him in, making his eyes trace the patrician lines of his profile, mellowed and made royal by the warmth of the sun. A warmth that he exuded himself with everything he did.
Jin Ling felt something in his chest unfurl and burn.