Work Text:
Really, it all started with Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian. If not for the ever-growing collection of peacock-themed gifts they had — perhaps not exactly showered — on her husband, then Jiang Yanli might never have had the idea.
She chewed at her lips as she stared down at the two lines of her pregnancy test, internally debating. It wouldn’t be wise to announce her pregnancy too early. For all her no-nonsense attitude, A-Niang still carried some superstitions, and some left an impression on her daughter as well.
But, it could work in her favour, delaying the announcement. Maybe by a few weeks. Just long enough to make a blanket for the little one — perhaps even a peacock-themed blanket, to keep in with the decor.
If she could present it to Jin Zixuan to announce the news to him as well — Jiang Yanli smirked; her brothers definitely were mischievous influences.
Eventually, Jin Zixuan softened towards the themed gifts. After how long Jiang Yanli’s brothers had spent mocking him, it probably wasn’t too much of a surprise it had taken some time. Now though, he seemed just as fondly exasperated when opening gifts, though almost every practical gift made its way into use, matching aesthetics be damned.
(Jiang Yanli did enjoy the his-and-hers china teacups from their wedding and used them for their tea every morning with breakfast.)
Even now, at the thought of joining in on her family’s long-standing in-joke, Jiang Yanli couldn’t stop her lips from twitching. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to avoid dissolving into laughter on the bathroom floor.
She was, perhaps, a little hysterical with the discovery. Elated and excited — but also a tad nervous. In this room, everything had shifted two steps to the left, but outside these four tiled walls, right now: nothing had changed.
Taking measured breaths, she sat a few minutes longer until the bath tiles grew uncomfortable against her back, and she started feeling a little calmer.
Okay. Time to face the world.
“If we had kids...” Jin Zixuan began the following evening as they were washing the dishes. “Would you prefer a boy or a girl?”
Yanli paused, feeling inexplicably caught. Could he have guessed already? She had been careful not to leave the used pregnancy test anywhere he might have found it. Still, she had spent the afternoon looking up more traditionally balanced foods and adjusted their weekly food plan to match, but not so much that she’d thought it would be obvious.
“I think I would be grateful for either,” she said slowly, before the silence grew awkward. “Though I wouldn’t object to one of each.”
He blinked at her, the bowl he was drying forgotten for the moment. “You’d be open to that? Oh, I mean --”
“Yes, A-Xuan, children are definitely something I’m open to,” she said, motioning for him to continue drying as she rinsed the next pot. “Which I had somewhat assumed you knew, given...” she trailed off leadingly, raising her eyebrows.
Jin Zixuan spluttered, almost dropping the poor bowl. “Yanli!”
She scrubbed at a stubborn stain on the bottom of her pot to avoid giving the game away with laughter. If he guessed, she would admit their stroke of good fortune, but for the time being, her elder-sister instinct demanded that she tease her husband horribly later. Asking his already-pregnant wife about their hypothetical children — oh, she appreciated the question, but the comedy of the timing was golden.
Taking pity for a moment, she asked, “Do you have any preference, then?”
“Well, not really. I think my family would want a boy, but --” He gave a shrug that somehow encompassed everything that came with the extended family at large.
Having met more Jin aunties and uncles than she could hope to keep track of without a dedicated chart, she could understand where he was coming from.
“So, two or three, then,” she said cheerfully, waving the nearest utensil at him - a soapy wooden spoon - like a threat. “We’re both consenting adults in this conversation, aren’t we?”
“Wait, two or three?”
“We’ll have to make good use of the names we think of, won’t we?”
Jin Zixuan made a tortured noise. “How much time have you been spending with your siblings?” he grumbled.
“Oh, A-Xuan, it’s the joy of having siblings.”
He grabbed the wooden spoon from her, brandishing it at her in return. “Two, we are sticking to two. I cannot imagine your brothers in miniature again.”
Yanli gave up the fight, dropped the dishcloth into the sink, and laughed.
Knitting wasn’t something that A-Niang or Popo had an interest in. Instead, Nainai had taught a seven-year-old Jiang Yanli to knit; baby garments and blankets growing on her needles like magic, while little Yanli fumbled with two long needles and surprisingly slippery yarn that refused to do what it had when Nainai’s calloused fingers had guided hers.
(She became very good at slipping stitches, very quickly. Making new stitches took a bit longer, and she still had an aversion to a specific shade of brown yarn to this day.)
Some years later, she had taught Wei Wuxian to knit, keeping his hands busy making things instead of dismantling the old electronics for the tenth time.
Soon he’d come to Jiang Yanli - now the craft-maker of the household - with a pattern, asking questions about the structure and exactly what stitches were used to make the tidy chain-linked shapes.
So, they learned to crochet together. Wei Wuxian had easily taken to the single needle after the initial fumbling and laughter as the yarn refused to cooperate. Of course, he had, she thought affectionately. Very little stumped him when he was determined to learn something.
During Wei Wuxian’s brief disappearance during their university years — six months when no one heard hide nor hair from him, and even his Lan Wangji and the family of Wens he’d befriended knew nothing about his whereabouts — the misshapen, inexpertly made soup pot amigurumi Wei Wuxian had proudly presented her with (his first attempt at amigurumi!) had kept Jiang Yanli company on too many long sleepless nights wondering about her brother.
Honestly, she was a little shocked it had taken this long to think of a peacock-themed blanket. At the very least, an amigurumi seemed like the sort of thing Wei Wuxian would find on a late-night internet search, then spend an inordinate amount of time picking apart the construction and making adjustments.
Wei Wuxian’s Lan Wangji would occasionally send her photos of her sleeping brother (carefully tucked under a quilted blanket she’d learned was made by Lan Wangji’s mother) surrounded by a tangle of yarn and copious notes strewn across his desk.
His succinct commentary made her laugh, and she knitted sweaters and hoodies for his bunnies in return: a small thank you for keeping an eye on her brother.
So, as much as she would have loved to ask Wei Wuxian to help her find a suitable pattern she could use for a baby blanket, she knew he would be too excited over the news, and neither he nor Jiang Cheng would be able to resist dropping hints to Jin Zixuan.
And, no matter what they thought, her husband wasn’t stupid, especially when it was something he was just as hopeful for.
Not just that, but she didn’t want to go about telling other people before she could break the news to Jin Zixuan.
Perhaps she could ask Jin Zixuan’s best friend, Luo Qingyang. She had a little girl herself, and she was a crocheter. They’d bonded over craft projects during a few long Jin-hosted parties. And, as it turned out, she was also Wei Wuxian’s Mianmian from his Stitch ‘n’ Bitch club at university. Sometimes the world wasn’t so large after all.
Given how mercilessly she had ribbed her husband at their wedding, Luo Qingyang could probably guess — she would get a kick out of keeping the blanket a secret project from Jin Zixuan too.
“Sure, I can be free then. Hang on one second,” Luo Qingyang’s voice grew faint momentarily as she called for her husband. “Just need to check if I need to arrange childcare for Xiao Mianmian.”
“I can do another day if that works better for you --”
“What? No, it’s okay. She’ll need to get used to other people looking after her eventually.” Some muffled conversation, and then Luo Qingyang returned, sounding less distracted. “That date will be fine. We can go to the yarn shop downtown from here — they have a great selection if you aren’t dead set on one specific brand of yarn.”
“That would be great! Thank you, Qingyang.”
“No problem, no problem. I need more excuses to go yarn shopping now. At least until my daughter stops growing so fast. She’s like a weed, sprouting up like that.” Her voice turned mischievous. “So, any news you’d like to share? Any particular reason you’re starting this new project?”
She cleared her throat. “Not just yet, but you need blankets from the start, right?”
“Yeah, and they’re much easier to make neutral too.” A beat. “Please tell me it’s peacock themed.”
Jiang Yanli started laughing. “Now you sound like my brothers! I’m planning to, but I haven’t looked for a specific pattern yet.”
“I would have thought Yuandao would have had a Pinterest board all ready to go if he hadn’t already designed his own pattern. Wei Wuxian,” she corrected herself at Jiang Yanli’s baffled silence.
Ah: her brother really was an incorrigible flirt.
“I’m sure he and A-Cheng started creating a baby-themed board at the same time they started the one for our wedding.” She paused. “I’m a little afraid to ask.”
“Why am I not surprised?” The phone line did nothing to hide Luo Qingyang’s muffled laughter. “I’m sure I’ve some peacock feather Afghan patterns. Making a baby blanket with the same pattern shouldn't be too difficult. I’ll send you some links later on.”
It would seem that her brothers weren’t the only ones with a pre-prepared Pinterest board.
When Jiang Yanli next visited her brother (and, theoretically, his flatmate, though Lan Wangji rarely stayed long before politely excusing himself), she had half a project idea in mind.
Once she started looking at their designs more critically, the knitted blankets Luo Qingyang had sent to her were beautiful but also quite finicky. Some of them — especially the colourwork ones — didn’t look like they would scale down well; others she vetoed because it was a baby’s blanket — function came before ornament. Sure, an ornamental blanket for the hundred-day celebration, but she also wanted a blanket to use more regularly.
So she’d turned to the crochet patterns instead. She’d quickly found a design for a scarf; each feather “eye” worked separately, then joined in long, offset columns.
Jiang Yanli hadn’t tried the pattern yet. She had a couple of modifications in mind that she wanted to test first while she was with her brother, who had a much better grasp of how to adjust patterns, even if writing patterns entirely from scratch was beyond them both.
At least the pattern she’d tentatively settled on was innocent enough to test during her regular craft evening with Wei Wuxian. And, if all went well, perhaps Jin Zixuan could have a matching peacock feather scarf after the baby was born. He’d needed a new scarf for a while — he still wore the scarf she had knitted with some hand-spun yarn several years ago, and it was beginning to look worse for wear.
Wei Wuxian laughed at the garish selection of colours she set out on the table. “Shijie, I know we tease the Peacock about his fashion sense, but there’s no need to join in as well!.”
“These are scraps, A-Xian. I’m practising before I buy the yarn for my new project.”
He leaned over, intrigued, to squint at the pattern’s cover photograph. Wei Wuxian was one of those people who bought both pattern and yarn and jumped straight into the main event, sometimes without swatching first. (He had a surprising amount of success when he did that, but it still made Jiang Yanli twitchy.)
“Huh, if you aren’t going to give it to the Peacock, then can I keep those middle pieces as coasters for Lan Zhan? He always looks so offended when I put his tea straight on the coffee table.”
“Of course,” she laughed. “We can’t have your Lan Wangji being upset about the tea rings on your coffee table, now can we?”
Much to her amusement, Wei Wuxian turned pink and started stuttering all sorts of silly protests about how Lan Wangji wasn’t his, and they were just flatmates. It was a familiar pattern to their conversations, so Jiang Yanli just smiled and let him carry the conversation while they started knitting.
A short while later, once Wei Wuxian had regaled her with his tales of the pranks he’d played on his long-suffering friend, Jiang Yanli fastened off her work, reached for the yarn cutter on her craft bag and held the piece up to examine.
(Call her superstitious, but she had boxed up as many of the scissors in their house as she could and hid them in a box on top of the wardrobe in one of the guest rooms.)
She turned the small piece side to side, trying to visualise it repeated side by side and offset across each column. Even allowing for the colour choices (oddments of neon pink, yellow and orange)... it looked remarkably like an egg-shaped coaster rather than a peacock feather.
And, she thought, joining the individual pieces together would take a while.
“A-Xian, may I borrow a yarn needle from you?”
Wei Wuxian paused the intense cabling on the collar of the sweater he was working on, and leaned over to pass her the needle holder. “Are you going to sew each feather together?”
Jiang Yanli was familiar with his horrified expression as she nodded. Wei Wuxian quickly grew bored, sewing great swathes of knitting or crochet together.
“All that sewing! Ah, Shijie, save yourself before you start... surely you can make something that’s join-as-you-go?”
“Maybe not from this pattern,” she allowed.
“This is a crochet pattern, right?” There was a familiar glitter in his eyes. “Can I have a look at the pattern?”
Well, since he was asking... She nodded. “Let me finish this first, then we can have a look,” she said, well-versed in her brother’s habit of leaving things half-done when he found something new to look at. She’d let him finish his pattern repeat first.
Once the ends were woven in, Wei Wuxian set the finished coaster on his coffee table with great relish — Jiang Yanli almost wished she would see Lan Wangji’s reaction to Wei Wuxian’s smug pride over the coaster — before he grabbed a crochet hook and joined her on the sofa.
If they made a few more feathers, they could make a collection of coasters for him. He could keep a couple for the rare occasion when she’d visit with Jin Zixuan.
They leaned their heads together, fingers unsure as they picked out the stitches. Gradually, they shifted through the colour changes — the joy of the double knitting yarn was that they didn’t take long to do, and they weren’t too big — soon enough, another two feathers sat on the table.
Wei Wuxian tugged a sheet of paper off the notepad he kept nearby and started scribbling. “So, we finish with one stitch at the top of the feather, which we can chain up to start the next feather... then how would we join the next row?”
“Could we join one strip with a single crochet border?” she offered.
“And do the same with two, on the subsequent strips, to join them together!”
Seeing Wei Wuxian light up in that way of his, Jiang Yanli held a hand up, laughing. “Wait, wait, A-Xian, let’s make sure we’ve written this down before we forget.”
Armed with a pattern and some of Wei Wuxian’s diagrams — and her trusty swatch, of course — Jiang Yanli let the excitement begin to creep over her as she waited for Luo Qingyang to join her.
“Here you are! Sorry I’m a little late. Xiao Mianmian was being extra sticky.”
“Sticky?”
Luo Qingyang grinned at her. “You have all these things to look forward to. Little terrors have some sort of stickiness attracting skill.”
Jiang Yanli laughed softly. “Something else to think about in the future.”
“Oh, I’m sure. Just wait until everyone starts sending you cooling recipes.”
So far, her pregnancy had been fairly smooth sailing — just a couple of nauseous mornings — but she could remember how Luo Qingyang had complained of being too hot all through her last trimester of pregnancy.
“I’d hope I’d have most of them already, but I’m sure Popo and A-Niang have been stockpiling.”
Luo Qingyang laughed, linking their arms as they entered the shop.
“So this is my local yarn shop. Like I said, they’re great if you don’t have your heart set on a specific brand, or if you’re looking for a pack of yarn.” She paused. “Sometimes there’s too much choice. When I come home with a bag of yarn, my husband gets this look on his face and gives me a very specific sigh.”
“A-Xuan does the same thing. I think he’s secretly worried about me knitting him a scratchy jumper.”
“Please make him a terrible Christmas jumper. Just to annoy everyone.”
“One project at a time! It’s only April. This blanket is enough colourwork for the time being.”
“Now I’m imagining Zixuan in one of those self-striping candy cane colourways.”
“When I finish this blanket, we can come back and spend an afternoon picking out yarn for the ugliest jumpers we can. But first, this blanket.”
“Right, right. What weight were you thinking?”
“Worsted, maybe light worsted? Nothing too fine; I’d like something fairly quick to work up.” As she spoke, Jiang Yanli picked up a hank of yarn in a lovely royal blue.
Luo Qingyang hummed, reading the yarn content. “Maybe not that. Silk is probably too delicate for the amount of use it would see.”
Yes, she definitely wanted something sturdy, she thought -- bless Jin Zixuan, but more than one knitted garment had shrunk when he’d been in charge of the washing.
“Something warm and soft,” she said after a moment, frowning at a different ball band. “Something that’s easy to care for.”
Judging by Luo Qingyang’s snort, she had guessed what might have prompted that statement.
“Not this next aisle,” she said dismissively, steering them past. “Sock yarn takes forever, no matter what the pattern author thinks.”
Jiang Yanli shook her head at the next few choices. “Don’t shorter fibres shed a lot?”
“Good point; let’s avoid that. It’ll felt in no time.” She thought for a minute. “How about bamboo cotton?”
“Oh, that would be very soft.”
“And with it being a baby blanket, it wouldn’t get too heavy, like a cotton blanket would normally — and, bonus, it can be washed on a normal cycle once the dye is set.”
They had to flag down a staff member to find the right section — Luo Qingyang was right, there was almost too much choice — before Jiang Yanli had to decide on the next challenge: amounts of yarn. Having a second pair of eyes with her had made choosing the colours almost worryingly easy.
She had an idea from Wei Wuxian’s attempt at calculating amounts based on the original pattern, but he hadn’t worked it out for cotton yarn.
“Well, I think I used three balls of one colour for Xiao Mianmian’s baby blanket, plus another ball for the edging and finishing,” Luo Qingyang said thoughtfully. “It was the half-size balls, so maybe one of each of the central colours, two of the greens and blues... maybe three of the edging colour, just to be on the safe side?”
“I’m sure if there were leftovers, I could make A-Xuan a scarf.”
“I have more ideas than I have leftovers, sometimes, and let me tell you, that is difficult with a little one who thinks the knitting needles are one of her toys.”
Jiang Yanli hadn’t considered that. Logically, it would make sense not to knit as much while their child was very young.
A short wait later, and they were served and standing outside waiting for a taxi, carrier bags in hand — Luo Qingyang had zeroed in on some yarn in the discount bin — something to teach Xiao Mianmian to knit with, she claimed.
“Thank you for coming out shopping with me,” Jiang Yanli said. “I’d probably still be deciding on colours if I’d tried this alone.”
“No problem! I used to do this with Yuandao, which, no offence to him, but you’re much better to shop with.”
“I’ll tell him you said hello, and that you miss him desperately, then.”
“Not likely! But next time I see you, I’m sure you’ll have some news to tell me, won’t you?” she said cheekily, then laughed at Jiang Yanli’s startled rabbit impression.
If her brothers’ visits to her house just happened to align with evenings when Jin Zixuan’s job needed him to either work late or travel elsewhere in the country for a few days, well, she wasn’t going to bring attention to it. After all, she enjoyed their company.
On occasion, though, she did notice a new novelty item in their collection after the boys had gone home. Jiang Yanli had made her own gains from this tradition last time: gold teardrop earrings, the metalwork stylised into a peacock curled around a blue opal.
(Jin Zixuan had gained a new mug for work, the peacock’s head and neck forming the handle, its feathered tail fanning across the outside of the mug.)
She knew her brothers - so Wei Wuxian looking particularly smug with himself when she returned with tea and snacks hardly phased her.
“I can’t believe you,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “How did you even find that?”
“Well, Lan Zhan mentioned that there were rabbit-themed lanterns--”
“Shut up; I regret I even asked.”
“Boys,” she said lightly, and they both looked at her like small children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
Hm. Maybe she should take the practice while it was free.
“A-Xian, what did you do?” A quick glance around the room revealed nothing obviously added or moved.
“He bought an outdoor lamp.”
She turned automatically to the outside door, despite knowing she couldn’t see much of the garden from her angle. Nothing seemed immediately different that she could see, but with Wei Wuxian, that could mean very little.
“It’s on the outside table,” Wei Wuxian offered after a moment, flicking quickly through his phone gallery. “Here, I have a photo of it. Lan Zhan sent it to me.”
They exchanged an amused look at Jiang Cheng’s background muttering at the mention of Wei Wuxian’s flatmate.
“Oh, I like that. I’m sure it will be wonderful in the summer evenings. Thank you, A-Xian.”
As usual, Wei Wuxian coloured and quickly changed the subject to her, asking if the Peacock needed reminding every now and then that he was and always would be a peacock.
He was fooling no one, least of all his elder sister: Jiang Yanli knew there was no genuine venom left in the name at this point. Still, she hoped none of Jin Zixuan’s family learned exactly why they had so many peacock-themed items in their home.
Maybe — a little later in her pregnancy, perhaps — she’d mention the piece of art she’d mentally earmarked for the baby’s nursery, and let her brothers scrap over who would gift it for the nursery room.
Jin Zixuan had found it: the artist painted her peacock’s feet with non-toxic paint, then let them walk across the canvas to create unique works of art.
She sat back for a moment, resting her feet as the boys gently bickered, and her eyes fell on her craft bag. “Oh, A-Xian, Luo Qingyang said hello.”
“Mianmian did? Does she miss me terribly?”
“Who’d miss you?” Jiang Cheng said, leaning over his brother for another biscuit.
“Just because you have unobtainable standards of beauty,” Wei Wuxian counted at once. “Not all of us have been blacklisted by every matchmaker we’ve seen.”
“That was one time--”
Jiang Yanli smiled to herself: like this, their arguments were affectionate, aggressively re-filling each other's dishes and cups.
It made her think of what Nainai used to sternly tell her: “Never knit when you’re angry or sad. When you craft, you leave a piece of you in every stitch. So warmth for a sweater, happiness for a gift.”
She wanted to put into her work every wish and hope she had for the tiny new life growing in her, to give them something to hold on to and keep them safe.
As the saying went: no better time than the present. Time to cast on and commit to the bit.
Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng squinted suspiciously at her as she picked out the black for the “eye” of the feather and began hooking.
Around her brothers, a sense of protection would form the heart of each feather, keeping her little one safe, as they did for each other.
“Ah, little one,” she said softly when Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng stepped out of the room briefly (still squabbling). “You will be so loved. Not just by me, but your Baba will love you, and your silly jiujius will love you. Waipo and Waigong will love you in their ways. We can’t wait to meet you, so just work on being strong and healthy, ok? And Mama will work hard at giving you everything you need to get there.”
Her baby was much too small to move, kick, or really understand, but they would know love from the womb. And if she had anything to do with it, they would sleep each night with a blanket of prayers and wishes to keep them safe and warm.
Motherhood must give some people a sixth (or even seventh!) sense. Jiang Yanli could pinpoint the second her mother clocked her pregnancy. She shook her head slightly, hoping to forestall the question - and the inevitable ensuing conversation for a little longer.
Her mother rolled her eyes but said nothing until the men of the family were out of the room, engrossed in discussing Wei Wuxian’s latest grand idea or Jiang Cheng’s most recent project.
“Yanli,” she said crisply. “When are you due?”
“The start of winter,” Jiang Yanli said. Roughly mid-November, she privately thought.
A-Niang nodded sharply. “You will avoid anything strenuous, of course. And I will give you recipes to benefit the baby’s development.”
“Thank you, A-Niang.” Somewhere, Luo Qingyang was laughing, she was sure.
She reached for her bag, pulling out her latest feather. So far, she still had one column of feathers to attach to the rest of the blanket — joining each column together was the most time-consuming part. She’d mostly expected that: joining had never been her favourite part of a project, even when it was part of a pattern, simply due to the long stretch of very little happening, but eventually, it grew into an achievement.
No, the hardest part had been keeping the blanket away from her husband — he suddenly seemed to develop a sixth sense on the days when she started the next section of joining, and kept asking questions and popping back and forth.
She’d definitely miscounted at some point and fudged the stitches to make it work — sometimes the mathematically correct pattern wasn’t the most natural or visually correct pattern, so maybe it would be okay after she pinned it out —
“Yanli.”
She looked back at her mother and witnessed the brief, rare moment of Yu Ziyuan searching for words.
“Congratulations. Make sure that husband of yours pulls his weight.”
Smiling softly, Jiang Yanli dipped her head. “Of course, A-Niang.”
Mother was prickly, and she certainly took some getting used to — Jin Zixuan was still nervous around her — but anyone she took into her heart, she would defend viciously.
She paused after the words processed. That would take some getting used to: knowing she would soon be a mother. Soon, there would be a little one toddling about, getting sticky hands on the wooden furniture, and that little one would be entirely their responsibility, she and her husband.
No matter how much she’d looked after Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian in their younger years, they were still very much siblings at heart.
“Even years later, the words come as a surprise some days.” Mother made a noise in her throat. “Carry on with your craft. I know that sentimental look on your face, A-Li.”
A cup of jasmine tea appeared at her side a few minutes later, her mother looking for all the world as if it materialised out of thin air, and she had nothing to do with the matter.
Pulling the last loop tight, a feeling of surrealism crept over Jiang Yanli as she spread the blanket over her legs, admiring how the waves of feathers flowed.
She’d miss having its warmth and reassuring weight in her lap as she worked on it, but soon it would warm a more precious body.
(Her wrists and hands, however, would much prefer not having to carry the weight of seven hanks of bamboo cotton while joining)
She flipped the work, eying the wrong side critically for any loose threads or unfastened ends. She’d tried to weave the ends as she’d worked, but it never hurt to check. Little fingers and toes could get caught so easily.
Mother looked over, inspecting it intently, before rolling her eyes — she, for one, found the peacock association ridiculous.
(It possibly had something to do with her heirloom snake bracelet, with its inset charoite eyes. Jiang Yanli had few aunties by blood, but every year A-Niang would receive something snake-themed.)
“It’s bad luck to dress the baby’s bed before they’re born.”
“This is a gift,” she replied honestly. The same had crossed her mind; it was primarily for the baby, yes, but also for Jin Zixuan.
Her mother sniffed, unimpressed. “A gift to the baby hardly makes a difference.”
“A gift to A-Xuan.”
A beat of ringing silence. Down the hall, Jiang Cheng raised his voice at something.
“He doesn’t know?”
“This will be my announcement.”
Her mother did something complicated with her eyebrows. “How does he not know.”
“So far, A-Niang, you are the only one who has asked.” Though Luo Qingyang had probably guessed, even if she hadn’t said anything outright, just her parting shot.
Her mother hummed, turning back to her book. Jiang Yanli felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle and feared for her husband. He wouldn’t know why his mother-in-law would be harsher than usual.
At least, not until she finished this blanket. It still needed to be washed and pinned out - she would probably commandeer Wei Wuxian for that, just in case Jin Zixuan stumbled upon the blanket at the last hurdle, but for the moment, she was satisfied with it.
Jiang Yanli folded the blanket neatly, tucking it away into her craft bag right before the doorbell rang.
Her brothers dashed into the room, determined not to be the one to have to speak with Jin Zixuan, leaving A-Die to open the door and greet him.
When Jin Zixuan entered, Yu Ziyuan fixed him with a piercing glare.
Wei Wuxian leaned over to mutter to Jiang Yanli, “What did the Peacock do to offend Yu-ayi so much?”
“Does he need a reason?” Jiang Cheng hissed back.
Jiang Yanli stayed quiet as Wei Wuxian considered this before shrugging with a look of acceptance.
“I suppose he is a peacock at the end of the day.”
“A-Xian, be nice.”
“I am! Did you see the peacocks the last time we visited the park? They were strutting around, just like the Peacock would.”
“Wei Wuxian,” Mother snapped, and Wei Wuxian snapped back into position.
“Sorry, Yu-ayi.”
While her mother was distracted, Jin Zixuan shot his wife a look, begging for rescue.
“A-Niang, we’ll be leaving first.”
“Of course.” She fixed them with an assessing look. “Yanli, you need to eat more. You’re much too thin. And make sure you’re getting enough sleep.”
Jin Zixuan opened his mouth to say something, but she waved him off.
Once they were in the car, he put a hand on hers before he started the engine. “Are you ok, A-Li? Were you ill while you were visiting?”
“I’m all right, A-Xuan. A-Niang was just...fussing a little.”
She could see his scepticism, though he didn’t argue. Her family’s demonstration of affection still eluded him.
He looked away, his expression taking on the twist it would when he had to compliment either Jiang Cheng or Wei Wuxian. “Well, your brothers weren’t exactly miles off-piste. And, well. It keeps my family happy since a peacock is an auspicious symbol.”
She smiled to herself. Her husband cared for them, really.
Jin Zixuan stared apprehensively at the bundle of tissue paper tied up with a gold ribbon scattered with congratulations, as if he was moments away from trouble.
“It’s... not my birthday?” he said slowly. His brow creased. “It’s not our anniversary, is it?”
He was so cute when he was worried. Laughing, Jiang Yanli shook her head. “Open it.”
He lifted it, squeezing it lightly like a child might. The crease on his brow deepened. “Did you knit me a jumper? Isn’t that bad luck?”
“Open it,” she repeated. “And no, that’s the boyfriend curse you’re thinking of.”
“Oh. It doesn’t apply after you’re married?”
Jiang Yanli raised her eyebrows, biting her cheek to keep from laughing. “Are you trying to suggest something, laogong?”
Jin Zixuan turned a brilliant red, suddenly intensely interested in the present. Carefully, he untied the bow.
Yanli pressed her hands under her legs to keep from cradling her stomach, and the smallest bump that was beginning to show.
He froze as the tissue fell away to reveal the peacock feathers. “Oh, it’s... lovely,” he said, still confused.
“Take it out.”
Really, Zixuan had the most expressive face. She watched the progressive confusion as he unfolded it, only for it to be considerably smaller than he’d expected -- barely enough to cover his lap, but long enough to reach the floor from his seated position. Then -- the best part -- the dawning realisation as the pieces slotted into place.
“Really?” he whispered, pulling the blanket close. “A-Li, really? You’re really...?”
“Eight weeks,” she said. “Surprise!”
He stared at the blanket for several minutes, processing. When she began to grow concerned -- they had discussed the idea of children, and money was no real problem, what with Jin Zixuan’s inheritance, he stood up with sudden intent.
“I actually. Um. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Her stomach dropped. Did he not like it? Had he expected her to tell him in a different way? Was he upset that she’d kept it secret for a few weeks?
Upstairs, she could hear Jin Zixuan moving things in his wardrobe, the drawers rolling and clacking as he hunted. At least he hadn’t gone straight for his coat and keys, she tried to console herself.
After a few minutes, he returned with a bag and a bundle of paper. Face still a bit red, he pressed them both into her hands, then dropped onto the sofa beside her, staring straight ahead.
Shooting him a concerned look, Yanli unfolded the papers. And stared. A crochet pattern stared back up at her.
“A... baby rattle?” she said slowly. “A baby peacock baby rattle?”
“It’s cute! I asked Qingyang for gift ideas, and then I saw that; then I asked her, and she thought it was a good idea! And, well,” he broke off to gesture wildly in the general direction of their decor; the peacock-painted china cups on the table, the peacock-feather patterned cushions on the loveseat, the hammered brass statue in the bay window, glittering when the sun shone at just the right angle.
Whenever their parents visited, they gained such strange expressions on their faces. Zixuan’s mother would start talking about how they were embodying such a noble creature in their decor.
Of course, that would explain some of Luo Qingyang’s amusement when she floated the idea. She found Zixuan’s acceptance of his association with peacocks to be great entertainment to begin with.
“I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but then I thought maybe you would think I was making a hint, so then I thought I’d keep it for if you did get pregnant, and um, well.”
“A-Xuan,” she said softly, reaching around the bag to touch his knee soothingly. “I understand. It’s adorable. I’ll absolutely make this for our little one to play with when he’s a little older.”
In all the chaos that came with the new arrival of a baby, Jin Zixuan felt shattered.
Little A-Ling dozed in his arms, still red from screaming, and his wisps of dark hair were still a bit damp.
The nurses had swaddled him in a standard hospital blanket, but even holding it now, Jin Zixuan didn’t like the texture under his fingers.
He glanced at the hospital bag they’d brought, then quickly back at Yanli’s room.
She had put all her hard work into it, and after all the hustle and bustle of the birthing room, followed immediately by the whirlwind of family clamouring to meet the baby and give well wishes to the mother, they hadn’t the chance to use the baby blanket.
Gently — the last thing he wanted to do was wake Jin Ling before Jiang Yanli could rest — he set his son down in the crib, then reached into the overnight bag.
If he took a moment to gently squish the crocheted fabric in his hands for a few moments, no one was there to see.
(Yanli had been very firm about the difference between knitted fabric and crocheted fabric — honestly, Jin Zixuan still wasn’t entirely clear on the difference, but it seemed important to her, so he tried to use the correct term.)
Carefully running through the steps in his mind, he spread the blanket so he could swaddle Jin Ling in it.
Lifting Jin Ling back into his arms, the little baby seemed to sigh and snuggle down -- almost as if he could sense the love his mother had poured into every stitch.
Jin Zixuan pressed his lips to his son’s head as he stepped back through into Yanli’s room.
“How is he?” she asked, voice still soft from sleep.
“Still sleeping, for now.” Jin Zixuan settled on the side of the bed, rearranging himself so the three of them could see one another clearly.
“Oh, A-Xuan, he looks so comfy.” Jiang Yanli said, eyes bright. She reached out to gently stroke Jin Ling’s hair.
“Your brothers were calling him our peachick before we decided on a name, so.” He pulled a face, mostly out of habit. “Our little Peachick seems to be enjoying the blanket his Mama made especially for him already.”
Jiang Yanli hiccupped a laugh, and Jin Zixuan leaned forward, dipping his head to murmur a secret to them both: “Welcome to the world, A-Ling. We already love you more than you can imagine.”