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There are right ways to do things and wrong ways to do things.
Nie Mingjue likes to do things the proper way, and he knows propriety dictates a preponderance of steps: a matchmaker, courtship gifts, visits to the elders, birth charts, and more. Some might call it overly traditional, but Nie Mingjue firmly believes there are benefits to some traditions. Marriage is a matter of family and community (particularly when two sect leaders are involved), so it makes perfect sense to Nie Mingjue to include them in the process. And he can deny neither the value to his sect that comes with being announced a fortuitous match nor the thrill of showering his beloved with displays of his affection.
To do otherwise feels wrong.
And yet…
There’s the proper way, and there’s the right way.
And with Jiang Cheng…
For as much as Nie Mingjue wants to declare his love for the brilliant, beautiful man for the entire cultivation world to see, Nie Mingjue can’t help but suspect that Jiang Cheng might be blindsided. For all the exchanged words of love and intimacies between them over the past three years—or perhaps because of them—Nie Mingjue knows that Jiang Cheng can be deeply private and resentful of being put on the spot. He can’t blame Jiang Cheng for it, but it does suggest that “the right way” here, the way to a lifetime commitment, might not be so simple.
So he resolves to do both. A private proposal to allow Jiang Cheng the time and space he needs, followed by a much more public overture to give Jiang Cheng the adoration and celebration he deserves.
The right way and the proper way.
It may sound cocky but he isn’t worried.
There are nerves, of course, a hungry ghost thrashing about in his stomach, but it’s more excitement than anxiety. A life together with Jiang Cheng sounds like a gift from the gods, more than he ever expected to be given. He’s long past any doubts with Jiang Cheng, their relationship settled into something deeper and far sweeter than a skittish schoolboy crush. His Cheng-er loves him, and he loves his Cheng-er. He is ready for them to bind themselves together for life, and he would not be proposing if he had significant doubts.
Jiang Cheng greets him at Lotus Pier with all appropriate decorum, a deep bow and a full welcome party. Only the smile tugging at the corner of his lips indicates any familiarity. And yet, despite all the formality, Nie Mingjue finds himself relaxing instinctively, the Jiang Cheng's mere presence gently untangling the wires of his body.
When they finally escape their retinues under the guise of having a private dinner and meeting, however, it only takes them seconds to crash into one another. Nie Mingjue grabs at Jiang Cheng’s waist and thighs as if to prove he’s still there, and Jiang Cheng’s hands scrabble at Nie Mingjue’s hairpiece until his braids fall free. And well, it’s no schoolboy crush, but perhaps some things in their relationship have retained their adolescent drive.
Nie Mingjue waits until after, when they’re lying in a heap with his head resting on Jiang Cheng’s thigh, to say anything. Jiang Cheng’s nimble fingers comb gently through the waves of his hair, nails half-scratching his scalp so that he’s tingly and sated all at once.
This, forever, he thinks, and no thought has ever been so tantalizing.
“I want to ask you something,” he murmurs into the crook of Jiang Cheng’s bent knee. The skin there is soft, and, as Nie Mingjue knows from experience, surprisingly ticklish.
“Hm?” Jiang Cheng hums. He shivers a little as Nie Mingjue’s breath grazes the back of his knee, but his limbs remain loose.
Nie Mingjue reluctantly pulls himself from the heaven of Jiang Cheng’s lap, sitting up so they can face each other without getting distracted. Jiang Cheng cocks an eyebrow at the movement, which is fair enough; usually it takes several nudges and half-hearted complaints of pins and needles for Jiang Cheng to dislodge him.
“I’ll make a formal request as you deserve, but I wanted to broach the subject with you in private first.” Nie Mingjue inhales deeply, gathering Jiang Cheng’s hands in his. “You know I love you, Cheng-er, and I want to be with you forever. I’d like you to marry me.”
Instantly, Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen and his body stiffens. His hands jerk in Nie Mingjue’s, but with what seems like considerable effort, he doesn’t pull them away completely.
“Mingjue, I—“ Jiang Cheng looks down, and Nie Mingjue watches with horror as his face seems to shutter. “I love you but I cannot accept.”
Nie Mingjue feels like he's been knocked flat on his back. He suddenly feels very exposed, wishing there was a way to pull the blanket over his nakedness that doesn't require letting go of Jiang Cheng’s hands. Those hands, with their elegant fingers and sword callouses, feel like his last lifeline, their presence proof that Nie Mingjue hasn't wholly misunderstood this.
And… he’s upset as well. He can feel it at the edge of himself, an anger and too-familiar betrayal threatening to overtake him. The soldier inside him shouting that this is has been a trap and that his defenses must come up, up, up.
But then Jiang Cheng’s hands twitch in his and he realizes he’s been squeezing them a little too hard. It bring him back to himself, and he quickly loosens his grip. This is Cheng-er, he reminds himself. He said he loves you, and if he is saying no, there’s a good reason, not subterfuge.
“May I ask why?” he asks, and he’s a little embarrassed at how rough his voice sounds. “Is it to do with politics?”
If it’s an issue of timing, all Jiang Cheng need do is say the word and he will wait for a more fortuitous time.
But Jiang Cheng shakes his head, still unable to look at Nie Mingjue.
“It’s not that. It’s just… well, I could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I? Isn’t this good? Haven’t things been good between us the way they are?”
This conversation is going in directions that Nie Mingjue could never have predicted.
“Well, yes,” Nie Mingjue says, “which is why I thought… I thought you’d want this, like I want this. Something official, something more.”
At that, Jiang Cheng finally slips one hand free from Nie Mingjue’s, and Nie Mingjue is horrified to see him discretely rub at a corner of his eye.
“I don’t need anything more,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “This is enough for me. It’s rare and precious and… I thought I—I thought this would be enough for you too. Why do things always have to change?”
The urge to comfort Jiang Cheng, to say that of course this is enough, that whatever Jiang Cheng can offer is always enough threatens to overtake Nie Mingjue. But he also knows that’s not completely true. That he wants a future and commitment with Jiang Cheng beyond what their current situation provides.
He’s just not sure quite how to explain that. But he loves Jiang Cheng and he has to try.
“Cheng-er,” he says, “you are incredible, and this is incredible, and you are always enough. But I can’t deny that I do… I do want more. More of what we already have. Commitment and everyone in the whole damn cultivating world knowing what we are to each other. I want the sect leaders to know that when they deal with you, they are dealing with Chifeng-zun’s husband. That when they badmouth me, they are speaking of Sandu Shengshou’s partner. I want us to create a future together.”
But Jiang Cheng shakes his head yet again. Nie Mingjue can’t take it anymore, and he reaches over to wrap the blanket around them both, so they can sit beside each other on the bed, drawn together by the blanket but no longer directly facing each other.
“You don’t understand,” Jiang Cheng says, voice choked. “More means…”
Nie Mingjue waits.
“More means more to lose,” Jiang Cheng finally says. His free hand rubs against the ridges of scars on his chest. “And public… public means doing everything the right way, the way everyone dictates. How to court one another, how to act in conferences… how to grieve. And you say that you want to be known as my husband, but you don’t know what it means to be publicly responsible for another person like that. How much of a vulnerability it is. Or the humiliation when the world watches someone leave you. When you leave me.”
Ah. Nie Mingjue is a fool for not remembering. Gently, he places one hand over top Jiang Cheng’s worrying one.
“I think we both know a few things about having the world scrutinize you,” Nie Mingjue points out. “And I’m not going to leave you. I know you and I know that we aren’t going to break.”
“You don’t know that!” Jiang Cheng protests, and Nie Mingjue frowns. But before he can argue, Jiang Cheng continues. “No one can know that! What if there’s another war? Only we end up on different sides this time.”
“We won’t end up on different sides. We share too many values,” Nie Mingjue says. “Another war won’t change that.”
“If not another war, then what about our families? If something happens that involves your brother, or Jin Ling, what then? You can’t know, Mingjue, you can’t know.”
Jiang Cheng’s eyes are red, and his chest is heaving. And as much as Nie Mingjue wants to argue, he can't deny the kernel of truth in Jiang Cheng's words. And yet…
“It’s worth the risk,” he says.
Jiang Cheng shakes his head.
“I can’t, Mingjue. I just can’t. I… please don’t hate me for this.” Jiang Cheng's voice slips into pained whisper.
And that’s what breaks Nie Mingjue. In an instant, he’s scooped Jiang Cheng into his arms, pulled him in as close as space and time will allow.
“I don’t,” he promises. “I couldn’t.”
How could he? Not when he understands the man in his arms in all the most painful ways. War and death and betrayal have placed their wretched, greedy hands on them both. It’s what led them to each other, but that great prize hasn’t come without a cost. Nie Mingjue would love to believe that they would have found each other another way, in spite rather than because of those traumas, but… he is a pragmatist. There is only so much time that can be spent on wondering how things could have gone before you must deal with how things have actually gone.
He can’t change Jiang Cheng’s history any more than he can change his own. For now he promises what he can, speaks what truth he knows, what he must believe in this world.
“I’m not leaving. I know it’s hard for you to believe me, but at least believe that I’m not planning on leaving, that it would take more than a disagreement or even a war to pull me away from you.”
It’s a plea. Even if Jiang Cheng can’t envision forever, he needs to know that Jiang Chiang can at least believe in them that much.
Jiang Cheng hesitates, considering his words. “I do. I can believe that much,” Jiang Cheng promises, and relief floods Nie Mingjue. “I know I’ve been so resistant but… I really do love you. And I do love how sure you are. I only wish I could be that sure as well. To make plans and trust them like you do.”
Nie Mingjue burrows his face in the top of Jiang Cheng’s hair and inhales the sweet scent of rain and hair oil there.
“I think it comes from being a general,” he muses. “I had to make so many plans, had to make mistakes, had to have people constantly doubting me, telling me my own perceptions of the world were wrong, and had to believe in myself anyway.”
“I trust you, I swear,” Jiang Cheng says, wrapping his arms around Nie Mingjue’s torso, his body a comforting weight. “And I'm yours for as far into the future as I can see. It's everything else that clouds that view. It’s life and its cruelties that can make even gods break their promises that I can’t trust. Please know that.”
And Nie Mingjue is surprised and comforted to find that he does know that. Jiang Cheng isn’t wrong about life, and Nie Mingjue can admit that in some ways it makes him foolish to still believe the way he does. But he does.
“I do know that,” Nie Mingjue says. “But I also hope that one day I can make you believe in my vision for us.”
“I hope so too,” Jiang Cheng says, and a weak smile has returned to his face. “Until then, I’ll need your patience..”
Nie Mingjue nods easily and draws Jiang Cheng closer. “Always. Believe in today then. Believe that I’m here with you now, and the now after that, and the now after that, until we reach forever. How does that sound?”
A true smile makes its way onto Jiang Cheng’s face, sweet and open as he presses his soft lips against Nie Mingjue’s.
“Good. That sounds good.”