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Lán Zhàn only made the connection after he traveled with Jiāng Wǎnyín nearly a full month. Lán Zhàn had previously noticed Wèi Yīng’s deference and careful handling of Jiāng Wǎnyín’s form until he forgot himself and flung an arm over his shoulder or his waist. Most of the time Jiāng Wǎnyín was quick to bat Wèi Yīng away from him even if he didn’t go very far.
Lán Zhàn also noticed how Jiāng Wǎnyín used softer, more floral scents when they would only be traveling for the day rather than fighting. Jiāng Wǎnyín would wear his hair in a loser style then as well, and although he had few robes to have much choice, Jiāng Wǎnyín had one set that looked like it belonged to his sister instead of him.
It wasn’t until Lán Zhàn saw one of Jiāng Wǎnyín’s disciples, one from his mother’s sect, bring out a bundle of bloody underclothes that Lán Zhàn realized: Jiāng Wǎnyín was a woman.
Or, Lán Zhàn considered, Jiāng Wǎnyín had the form of a woman, but had the soul of a man.
Truly, it wasn’t any of Lán Zhàn’s business aside from idle curiosity, and an unfortunate jealousy that wanted to rise up in his chest.
Lán Zhàn waited until the camp settled down for the night before he slipped quietly towards Jiāng Wǎnyín’s tent. It was only right that Lán Zhàn told him he knew. If someone discovered something like this about himself, Lán Zhàn would prefer to be told.
Lán Zhàn knocked the hilt of Bìchén on the tent pole and entered when Jiāng Wǎnyín called him in.
There were few candles lit but it was enough to bathe Jiāng Wǎnyín in a warm glow where he lay on his bedroll, hair loose around his shoulders and wrapped in a soft violet sleeping robe. Jiāng Wǎnyín held a water bladder to his abdomen, confirming Lán Zhàn’s suspicions.
Lán Zhàn bowed to Jiāng Wǎnyín who looked up at him through long lashes and a furrowed brow. “Jiāng-zōngzhǔ.”
“Lán-Èr-gōngzī, is there something you need?” Jiāng Wǎnyín asked softly, the sharp and harsh tone absent in the exhausted countenance he bore.
“I came to apologize,” Lán Zhàn told him. “I found out something I shouldn’t have.”
Jiāng Wǎnyín’s lips quirked up in a brief smile. “What? That I have the body of a woman?”
“Mn. Yes.”
“Close quarters like this, it’s not surprising. I know you won’t make a fuss about it, since we’re in the middle of a war,” Jiāng Wǎnyín rose into a fully seated position. “I’ve had to correct a few of the disciples already. This was easier when the sect already knew, but they’re gone now.”
“My condolences,” Lán Zhàn offered. He sat at the table when Jiāng Wǎnyín gestured for him to do so.
“Thank you.” Jiāng Wǎnyín looked him in the eye for a long moment. “You have questions?”
“If Jiāng-zōngzhǔ doesn’t mind?”
“It’s alright. I’ve done this before.”
Lán Zhàn imagined so. “Is it that you are a woman disguised as a man or a soul reincarnated in the incorrect form?”
Jiāng Wǎnyín raised an eyebrow. “Not what I expected your first question to be, but alright. My family needed an heir, a male heir, so I became one. When I became old enough to know the difference between young men and young women, I found myself to be neither. Playing the part of the male heir has always been more performance than who I am, as I have been my sister’s mèimèi when she wished to play that way. I see it as another decoration in course of my duties, same as the guān or my clarity bell.”
Lán Zhàn nodded in understanding. “Thank you, for clarifying. You are the only person I’ve spoken to who feels similarly to myself about such things. It is a relief to not be alone.”
Jiāng Wǎnyín’s face softened in surprise, and Lán Zhàn was struck with the thought he was really quite beautiful. “Hand me that box there, would you?”
Lán Zhàn turned and found a small unadorned box on the table and passed it to Jiāng Wǎnyín. The other man opened it and pulled a small bottle and a pouch.
“Here,” Jiāng Wǎnyín said, handing both to Lán Zhàn. “A perfume I don’t use anymore, and some small cosmetics.”
Lán Zhàn felt his mouth fall open in shock. “Why?”
“I doubt the Lán hold much use for such things, but it’s nice to put them on to feel beautiful. Use them or don’t, it’s no concern of mine,” Jiāng Wǎnyín huffed. Lán Zhàn thought he looked lovely with pink dusting his high cheekbones.
“Thank you,” Lán Zhàn said softly, tucking the gifts away. He smiled when Jiāng Wǎnyín began to look embarrassed. “Will you let me play for you?”
“Why?” Jiāng Wǎnyín asked.
“To help with pain and ensure sleep.”
Jiāng Wǎnyín nodded and lay down again. Lán Zhàn pulled out Wàngjī and began.
Lán Zhàn was more than accomplished enough by this point to not need to look at his fingering, which left him the opportunity to watch Jiāng Wǎnyín relax into a doze.
“It’s almost funny,” Jiāng Wǎnyín told him sleepily. “I’ve never been relieved to have…”
He drifted off for a moment before coming to again. “But I’m glad. They don’t deserve to have that, too.”
Lán Zhàn didn’t understand, and Jiāng Wǎnyín was asleep now, so he would not ask.
Lán Zhàn put Wàngjī away and stood to leave, snuffing out the few lit candles as he went. When he made it back to his own tent and bedroll, he pulled out the gifts from Jiāng Wǎnyín. The perfume smelled like apple blossoms and rain. The cosmetics were a light brown pot of powder and a few sheets of lip tint in muted red. They would be traveling all day again tomorrow, perhaps Lán Zhàn would try them in the morning.
Maybe Jiāng Wǎnyín would help him paint his face? Lán Zhàn felt his ears burn as he lay there in the dark. Behind his eyelids he could see the memory of Jiāng Wǎnyín lounging so prettily in the candlelight, and Lán Zhàn wondered how Jiāng Wǎnyín’s hands would feel on his face, in the morning.
This was his last musing before he fell into slumber.