Work Text:
Jiang Cheng slips out to the private dock attached to his home in Lotus Pier, stealing away into the cool and dark night to -- he didn’t really have a destination in mind. He woke with a sense of prickling anticipation. In the past, he might have leapt out of bed, woken Zidian and called Sandu to his side, ready to fight whatever was on its way to destroy Jiang Cheng and his home.
There is no danger. At least nothing more than the occasional consternation cause by pockets resentful energy and yaoguai. There were still ghosts to purge. But the thorny issues that had plagued the cultivation world for centuries were, by and large, tamed. The great sects were connected by bonds of family and love, and the smaller sects treated one another with respect (except for Old Man Yao, damn he just did not get it and would not hand over the reins of leadership to his capable and surprisingly chill niece, Liu Ying).
Jiang Cheng stands at the end of his private pier and gazes out at the water, but even the familiar sounds of the water cannot soothe him. With a grimace, he strips off his night clothes and dives into the water.
The water cradles him and soothes away some of the uneasiness that had settled in his gut. He concentrates on the resistance of the water as he settles into the push-pull rhythm of the stroke and the smooth glide of his progress across the lake. It’s nearly too cold to swim, and Jiang Cheng nudges his core to warm his hands and feet.
He doesn’t go far. He makes a few lazy circuits of the water close to the dock, just past the ring of light cast by the lanterns that hang from the roof of the small pavilion at the end. He swims until his arms and legs feel heavy, swims one more lap, and then heads back to the dock.
He can’t help but grin when lifts himself out of the water to find Huaisang sitting on the dock a few feet from the edge. His hair tumbles over his shoulder, sleep-tangled, his expression as soft as the fluffy towels stacked beside him.
“Husband,” he says, voice low and rough.
“Did I wake you?” Jiang Cheng asks as he pulls himself onto the dock and takes one of the towels.
“Yes, but I don’t mind.” He’s wearing one of Jiang Cheng’s robes, tied loosely at his waist, and he leans back on his hands as Jiang Cheng dries off.
Jiang Cheng shakes out the towel when he’s done and wraps it around his waist before sitting next to Huaisang.
“Awww,” Huaisang pouts, “I was enjoying the view.”
“Shameless,” Jiang Cheng says before stealing a kiss. “You don’t have to sit out here.”
“A-Cheng.” Huaisang takes his hand and leans into his side. “Do you know what today is?”
“Today is Friday—“
“Saturday. It’s well past midnight.”
“Saturday then. It’s not brunch weekend. It’s not a holiday.” Jiang Cheng thinks for a minute. “Do you have kiddos coming for painting lessons this weekend?”
“Jiang Wanyin,” Huaisang says with fond exasperation, “it is your birthday!”
“Wait, really?”
“Impossible man,” Huaisang mutters. He squeezes Jiang Cheng’s hand. “Yes! It is your birthday!”
Jiang Cheng frowns. “Did we have plans? Did I forget them?”
“No, love, not this year. You specifically requested no fuss.” Huaisang kisses his hand. “But you have been acting weird this week. Did you want a fuss?”
“No,” Jiang Cheng says quickly, wrapping an arm around Huaisang’s shoulders and drawing him close. “No, I would have said. But I guess that explains my neck.”
“Are you hurting? You’re not old, A-Cheng, did you hurt yourself?”
“No, nothing like that.” He sighs. “I’ve had this weird feeling for a few days now. That’s why I couldn’t sleep. Nothing is wrong. I was just thinking.”
“Always a dangerous thing,” Huaisang teases.
“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng grouses. “I was thinking about our legacy.” He sighs again. “We aren’t out there fighting wars or defeating great evils — which is a good thing, don’t get me wrong! It is excellent! If the worst A-Ling and the other babies have to face—“
“They are well into their thirties, my love.”
“—the literal tiny babies who are our nieces and nephews,” Jiang Cheng insists, “if the worst thing they face is the mundane bureaucracy of stability, how will we honor that? Especially if they decide to cultivate to immortality. Or not cultivate to immortality.”
Huaisang doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t press him to speak. He doesn’t have an answer, and he doesn’t expect Huaisang to have one. But he knows Huaisang well enough that he doesn’t yelp in surprise when Huaisang pushes him onto his back and straddles his hips in a sudden burst of energy. Instead he bites back a laugh as Huaisang pins his shoulders to the dock and waits.
“Who says we have to be legendary, Jiang Wanyin?” Huaisang gives him a crooked grin. His hair falls around his face in a rippled curtain, and Jiang Cheng reaches up to tug on a lock. “Who says we can’t just be?”
“Be shameless?” Jiang Cheng asks with an answering grin.
“What’s the shame in love?” He bends down and playfully bites Jiang Cheng’s lips.
“None at all.” Jiang Cheng grips the back of Huaisang’s neck and holds him in place for a proper kiss. “However,” he says as Huaisang pants above him, “our bedroom has supplies and a nice comfy bed.”
Huaisang grinds against Jiang Cheng for several long, delicious moments, but just before Jiang Cheng gives himself up to a satisfying if uncomfortable fate, Huaisang sits up and climbs off Jiang Cheng’s lap. He does not close his robe, however, and that sight motivates Jiang Cheng to get up, scoop Huaisang into his arms, and carry him to bed.
Later, as Jiang Cheng drowses against Huaisang’s chest, soothed by the little tune Huaisang hums as he rubs Jiang Cheng’s back, he realizes Huaisang is right. Even if their names are lost to time, the legacy of care and devotion they leave will be better than any epic tale. Love is legacy enough.