Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Then I will marry him in her place.”

Jiang Cheng hears the words leave his mouth as if from a great distance. Everything is moving in slow motion around him. The light is glinting off the familiar waters of Lotus Pier, winking like today is any other ordinary day in Yunmeng, like this is an ordinary meal with his family, an ordinary conversation to be having. He sees the slow drop of Wei Wuxian’s jaw. The widening of his father’s eyes. The studied blankness of his mother’s face, disturbed only by the twist of her mouth. But the only thing that matters is his sister, his perfect sister, and the relief that smooths across her face for less than a second before collapsing into worry.

That second makes it worth it. Jiang Cheng clenches his teeth and does not reel his words back in. They are out there for anyone to make of them what they please.

Everyone speaks at once.

“Jiang Cheng— ”

“The Jin sect—”

“Not my son—”

“A-Cheng, you—”

Jiang Cheng lets them all try to drown each other out for a moment before he slams his hand against the table so hard, he swears he can hear the wood crack. Ah, well. That's an issue to resolve later. “Stop!”

Amazingly, they all do stop. Even Madame Jiang, who snaps her mouth shut and levels a glare of unspeakable evil at him. Jiang Cheng basks in the quiet for a second before he says, “The union between the Jin sect and the Jiang sect is of vital importance to our clan’s future, isn’t it?”

A pause.

“Of course it is,” his father says, bemused.

“And A-jie will not be happy on the arm of the Jin sect heir.” It isn’t a question, but the way Jiang Yanli bites her lip is an answer anyway. Everyone notices.

“She—”

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth and cuts his mother off for the second time in as many minutes. “Then I, as the eldest son and heir to the Jiang sect, will marry him instead.”

More silence. And then Wei Wuxian gets to his feet and points, accusingly. 

“Jiang Cheng! You aren’t going to marry that peacock!”

“Why not?” Jiang Cheng snaps. He would be a lot angrier if Wei Wuxian didn’t look as pale and serious as he does right now.

“Because you’re—you need to be the sect leader!” Wei Wuxian throws a cautious look at Madame Jiang, who looks like she is seriously considering using Zidian on something. Or someone. “You can’t move to Lanling.”

“I agree,” says Jiang Cheng, crossing his arms across his chest. “And neither can A-jie.”

Wei Wuxian looks outraged. “So then—I’ll marry him.”

“No,” says absolutely everyone at the same time. Jiang Cheng winces. The relations between the Jin and the Jiang would devolve into war as soon as Wei Wuxian would have to spend more than five minutes in a room with Jin Zixuan. 

“You can’t,” he adds quickly. “They would not accept a senior disciple. A blood relation was the requirement they named in the terms of the contract.”

Wei Wuxian looks like he’s ready to argue, but he narrows his eyes instead. “How do you know that?”

Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath and looks at his family, all gazing back at him with a mixture of outrage, worry, and tenderness. “I have been researching the official documents,” he mumbled. “To make sure that the marriage pact wouldn’t be void if the obligation of one of the parties was—transferred.” He had actually been looking for a clause on the gender of the betrothed, but luckily, he had stumbled across this instead. As much as it makes his blood curdle to know that those Jin assholes consider Wei Wuxian anything less than his true brother, Jiang Cheng is a little relieved. This sacrifice will be his to bear alone, and his siblings don’t need to be dragged into the horrors of matrimonial politics.

“Is that why you summoned us all to dine here, Jiang Cheng?” Jiang Fengmian’s question is careful, but the way his mother’s eyes flick to him tells Jiang Cheng that they weren’t expecting this. Well, he thinks, trying to suppress a scowl, it’s what they’re getting.

“Yes, Father.” Jiang Cheng swallows. “I have reviewed the paperwork. I will be able to take A-jie’s place at the betrothal celebration if you give your approval.” On 'you,' his gaze finds his mother’s. Madame Jiang is pressing her lips together with barely-concealed fury. She is the one he must convince. 

“You do this for the sake of your A-jie,” she begins, but Jiang Cheng rises and bows deeply and quickly.

“I don’t.” He rises and clears his throat, glancing at Jiang Yanli, who is still looking at him wide-eyed. “Not only for her. For Yunmeng Jiang. An alliance between clan heirs is intrinsically more powerful than one between heir and blood relative. With the Wens posing a rising threat, the Jiang sect will assert itself by allying with the Jins.” It is the same reason why the betrothal celebration has been restated almost immediately after their time at Gusu and then moved up from several years to a few months away, the very reason that Jiang Yanli had lost the gleam in her eyes recently, why she had begun to cook day and night like she was running out of time to feed her brothers. Jiang Cheng’s chest aches to think about it. “And, as betrothed sect heirs, Jin Zixuan and I will be natural allies. Our armies will be one.”

Wei Wuxian looks like he wants to throw up. Jiang Cheng’s mother and father are having a furious silent conversation with their eyes. And Yanli—

Yanli is smiling. Small and sweet and rare, looking down at her lap. Jiang Cheng feels his eyes sort of start to sting. Maybe it was worth it—all those nights in the Lotus Pier library, squinting at the elaborate terminology and parsing out the obscure laws and traditions mentioned in every other sentence of her marriage contract. Sending all those letters to Mianmian in secret to make sure his proposal, once announced, couldn’t be undone from the Jin end. Planning and hoping and resolutely not thinking about what his life would be like as the husband of Jin Zixuan and focusing instead on the thought of Jiang Yanli in Lotus Pier for the rest of her life, surrounded by people who love and care for her. His sister, no longer a tool for political gain. 

Jiang Cheng is fine with being a tool, really. He knows what the right instrument will do in the wrong hands, and he knows that he will be able to weather anything the Jin sect throws at him as long as he is secure in the knowledge that his siblings are happy here.

“Also,” Jiang Cheng adds, to break the stormy silence that has settled over the table, “I have already dispatched a message to inform Jin Guangshan that I intend to visit Koi Tower next week.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “I’m coming with you,” he says immediately.

Jiang Cheng scowls. “No, you’re not.”

“I am, or you’re not going, even if I have to drag you to the lotus pond and hold you under.”

The two of them glare at each other as Jiang Fengmian gets to his feet.

“Jiang Cheng,” he says quietly. “I’m not pleased by this.”

And you think I am? Jiang Cheng doesn’t say. Instead, he lowers his head and says, “Father. You know it is the wisest course of action.”

His father opens his mouth to respond, but his mother beats him to it.

“It is.” Madame Jiang is pressing her lips together. “You are clever, Jiang Cheng. To inform the sect leader of the Jin that the sect heir of Jiang intends to visit. It will be difficult to undo the mess you have created if we withdraw.”

“Then don’t.” Jiang Cheng meets her gaze and reminds himself not to flinch no matter what. “Let me go. See how the visit turns out. Read over the contracts, draw up new ones, I don’t care. And then at the end, we can make a formal announcement, and it will not come as nearly as much of a surprise.” All very diplomatic and underhanded. It sets Jiang Cheng’s teeth on edge, but then Wei Wuxian’s hand is on his shoulder.

“I'm coming too,” he says stubbornly. “You need me there.”

“To do what?" Jiang Cheng tries to shove down the rising relief at the thought of someone—anyone—on his side against the scheming Jin politicians he will certainly have to face. "Invent new insults for Jin Zixuan?"

"To make sure nobody throws you out the tower window while you sleep," Wei Wuxian says brightly, and against his will, Jiang Cheng feels some of the tension leave his shoulders. "You do have a way with words, Jiang Cheng. Rest assured!" He salutes Jiang Fengmian and Madame Jiang. "I'll make sure he doesn't step on the toes of every disciple who breathes wrong in his presence.”

"The two of you together will be a hurricane descending on the doorstep of the Jin." Jiang Fengmian is shaking his head as he says it, but a hint of a smile inches across his face. Jiang Cheng instinctively glances at his mother. 

Madame Jiang taps her fingernails against the table and scowls at Jiang Cheng. "You are a terrible son," she says, "and I'm sure you will make an even worse husband. If you make it as far as the betrothal ceremony, that is."

Jiang Cheng's heart squeezes in his chest. That is as close as his mother will ever get to praise for his actions. He bows deeply, twice, and after only a moment's pause, Wei Wuxian joins in. "Thank you," Jiang Cheng says quickly. "I—We won't disappoint you." 

Madame Jiang waves him out of the bow. "You already have," she says dismissively. "Now sit down so we can finish this meal like a civilized family. Unless you've broken the table for good."

____________________________________________________________________________

Carp Tower is undeniably beautiful at this time of year—all golden veneers and neat gardens, everything culled to within an inch of its life, and all the people they pass are wearing more shiny trinkets and baubles than Jiang Cheng has ever seen anyone wear at one time.

"It's a wonder they don't blind each other when they accidentally step into a sunbeam," Wei Wuxian comments a little too loudly as they move through the gate. Jiang Cheng fights down a smile. This isn't the time or place for jokes, because everyone is watching the two Yunmeng cultivators as they stroll across the Jin grounds. Several disciples even do double-takes as they walk by, but Jiang Cheng believes this has more to do with the way Wei Wuxian is winking at people who stare than it does with the fact that they are wearing Jiang purple.

"Behave yourself," Jiang Cheng hisses as they climb the stairs to the main entrance. So many unnecessary stairs. "People gossip here."

"And they don't in Yunmeng?"

"Not nearly in the same way." Jiang Cheng hasn't even made it inside yet and he can already feel the tension clawing at the pit of his stomach. "People aren't vicious and cruel at home like they are here."

Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue. "There are vicious people everywhere," he says, and Jiang Cheng only has a half-second to look at him in surprise, because where did that cynicism come from, and then the heavy main doors are opening and the two of them are standing before Jin Guangshan.

Jiang Cheng fights hard to keep his face a mask of calm. He moves forward slowly, resisting the urge to put his hand on Sandu because there are so many attendants watching. How ostentatious, he thinks, to bring out every senior disciple just to watch the Jiang sect heir bow to you.

"Sect Leader Jin," he says loudly when he reaches the center of the room. "The Jiang clan is honored to be welcomed into your home." He lifts his hands out before him and bows deeply, praying that Wei Wuxian is doing the same thing in unison. "We look forward to the cooperation and exchange between sects."

When Jiang Cheng straightens up, he notices two things almost immediately. The first is that Jin Guangshan is frowning, deeply. Jiang Cheng follows the line of his gaze to Wei Wuxian, who has the good sense to keep his head down even after rising out of his bow. Jiang Cheng fights the urge to wince. Immediately after the decision was made, he had sent a letter explaining that Wei Wuxian would be accompanying him, but maybe it hadn't arrived in time.

The second thing he notices is that Jin Zixuan is standing next to his father.

Jiang Cheng blinks, but before he has time to process this, Jin Guangshan is stepping forward to greet him. "We are humbled and honored to receive such… famed cultivators—" his eyes flit to Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Cheng tells himself not to grind his teeth, "—at Carp Tower. I trust that your stay will not be unpleasant, and you will be able to return to Lotus Pier with much love in your heart for our alliance."

"Indeed." Jiang Cheng turns to Wei Wuxian and widens his eyes, a signal. "We have brought the Jin Sect Leader a token of our gratitude from Yunmeng."

Wei Wuxian nods, and produces an engraved ebony box that Jiang Fengmian had carefully selected for them. Jiang Cheng removes the lid and offers the contents up to Jin Guangshan, who smiles broadly at the lotus-handle dagger inside. 

"Fine craftsmanship," he comments. Jiang Cheng bobs his head politely. It is much more than fine . It is a symbol of their alliance in war, of their trust in each other, and of the mingling of blood the two clans will share after the marriage. 

"You are very kind, Sect Leader Jin." 

"But you should not be offering this to me." Jin Guangshan's eyes narrow. 

The world shifts on its axis as panic ices Jiang Cheng's veins. He's only been here for a few minutes, and he has already broken etiquette. He will be thrown out in disgrace. Jiang Yanli will have to marry Jin Zixuan, and it will be a grudging and unequal partnership.

"You should be giving it to my son." Jin Guangshan's smile returns, larger, like he found the temporary horror on Jiang Cheng’s face to be hilarious. Turning, he beckons Jin Zixuan forward. "He is the one to whom your sister is betrothed, after all."

Jiang Cheng wonders if Jin Guangshan even remembers Jiang Yanli's name. "Ah," he says, as politely as he can manage, still struggling to breathe evenly. "Of course. Forgive me, Young Master Jin."

Jin Zixuan approaches slowly, his expression fixed in the same mask of bored arrogance that Jiang Cheng recalls from the Cloud Recesses. His father nods approvingly as he plucks the dagger out of the box and offers Wei Wuxian with an extremely shallow bow, avoiding eye contact. To be fair, Wei Wuxian is looking at Jin Zixuan like he is imagining what it would feel like to plunge their gift into his perfect face.

"It was created in Yunmeng," Jiang Cheng says quickly before Jin Guangshan registers Wei Wuxian's expression. "By our talented artisans."

Jin Zixuan nods thoughtfully as he turns the dagger over in his hands, studying it. "The Jin sect has many fine craftsmen," he says slowly, "and many such weapons in its vaults."

What?

Jiang Cheng blinks. Surely he must have heard wrong. A quick glance at Wei Wuxian shows that his brother looks like he was just punched in the stomach. He turns back to Jin Guangshan and finds that the Jin sect leader is still smiling. It is a greasy, nasty sort of smile, and Jiang Cheng feels a hot coal of rage settle in his stomach.

"Forgive my son," he says after just a beat too long. "We are very grateful for your gift, of course, and for the partnership it represents."

Jiang Cheng understands now. He is not here on behalf of the brothership between clans. He is not here to deepen emotional bonds and strengthen their alliance. He is not here at the goodwill of Jin Guangshan. He is here so that the Jin can show the Jiang that they are the ones in charge. The Jin sect heir is marrying the Jiang sect heir's sister as a favor, and the Jiang clan has no authority whatsoever in Lanling.

A brief and sudden fantasy runs through Jiang Cheng's mind. In it, he spits in Jin Zixuan's pretty face, stomps hard on Jin Guangshan's toes, and drags Wei Wuxian out the door. He imagines the pure relief of storming through the main gates of Carp Tower and leaping onto the first boat back to Lotus Pier.

The fantasy dissipates immediately as Jin Zixuan places the dagger back in the box, and Jiang Cheng realizes that Wei Wuxian's hands are trembling with rage. Jiang Cheng hisses in a breath through his clenched teeth. Someone has to be mature in this situation. Someone has to stand up for their sect without burning the bridges between them. Jiang Cheng doesn't need to look at Wei Wuxian to know that his brother is not going to be that person. The coals of his anger are flaring up in his stomach, but Jiang Cheng thinks about Jiang Yanli and about how grateful he is that she isn't the one who is going to have to do this. And then he takes another breath and bows to Jin Zixuan and his father.

“Forgive me,” he says, his voice only shaking a little, “but our traditions are different in Lotus Pier. Unless you are a proxy yourself, you cannot accept an apology by proxy.” He rises and looks Jin Zixuan directly in the eye. There is no need to say anything else.

A startled silence, and then Jin Guangshan barks out a laugh. “Of course,” he says indulgently, and nudges his son’s shoulder. “Go on.” 

Jin Zixuan starts, eyes widening, but after a very telling moment of hesitation, he bows quickly. When he rises, Jiang Cheng is immensely gratified by the frustrated flush on his cheeks. He wonders if the senior Jin disciples standing on the sides of the hall can see that their young master is embarrassed. Wei Wuxian lets out a tiny snort of laughter that is quickly disguised as a cough, and Jiang Cheng has to fight down his own smile.

“I apologize, Jiang Wanyin,” Jin Zixuan says stiffly. It is unconvincing, but that makes it even more gratifying. 

“I accept," Jiang Cheng says, trying not to sound like he is gloating. This is only a small battle, he reminds himself. Jin Guangshan is watching all this with a benevolent smile. When Jin Zixuan steps back, he signals for one of the disciples to accept the box from Wei Wuxian.

“You must have had a long day of travel. We will have you shown to your rooms so you can rest before dinner.”

Jiang Cheng’s back is seriously going to hurt from all this bowing. “Thank you, Sect Leader Jin.” After a moment’s consideration, he bows again—ow— to Jin Zixuan. “Young Master Jin.”

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian echoes, and if it sounds a little sarcastic, Jiang Cheng can forgive him for that. They have hardly been in Carp Tower for ten minutes, and he already wants to strangle someone. Surviving this entire visit without blood on his hands will be difficult. 

As promised, another disciple steps up to lead them out the door. It isn’t until they are in the outer courtyard that Jiang Cheng realizes he recognizes her. 

“Mianmian!” Wei Wuxian shouts, much too loud. “It’s good to see you!”

“Wei Wuxian, shh!” Luo Qingyang wrinkles up her nose and glances over at him with a grin. “You’re such a troublemaker!”

“Me?” Wei Wuxian gasps loudly. “I didn’t do anything! I am completely innocent all the time.”

“What a blatant lie,” Mianmian says cheerfully. “Your brother has been telling me all about how you’ve been tormenting him since you left the Cloud Recesses!”

As the two of them begin to bicker playfully, Jiang Cheng can feel himself relax a tiny bit. At least he has two allies here in Lanling. Honestly, though, he should have seen this coming. Jiang Cheng is a fool for believing that this visit would be easy in any way, but he’d expected all the hardship to come from his own determination to break off the engagement, not from whatever stupid power play Jin Guangshan is trying for. Well, Jiang Cheng is going to be Jiang sect leader one day anyway, and then his own aversion for politics won’t matter because he will be thrust into them regardless. 

How exhausting. But, Jiang Cheng reminds himself as Mianmian ushers them into their new quarters, there is still the bigger reason he is doing this—for Yanli. He pictures the look on Jin Zixuan’s face when he had picked up the dagger, and he is again relieved to remind himself that every insult tossed in his direction is one less insult directed at his sister.

Wei Wuxian collapses face-down on his bed as soon as Mianmian leaves with a promise to see them at dinner. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, muffled, into the fabric. “We can make a break for it and be back at Lotus Pier in time for shijie to cook us lotus soup before bed.”

Jiang Cheng clucks his tongue, even though he’d been fantasizing about the exact same thing. “Wei Wuxian. We’re here to make them take us seriously. If we run off, the Jin will think they can push our clan around forever.”

“I know, I know.” Wei Wuxian flops onto his back. “Alcohol isn’t banned here, is it?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Good.” Wei Wuxian shoots up and offers Jiang Cheng a familiar sly smile. “Then let’s get very very drunk.”

____________________________________________________________________________

The first few days at Lanling pass in an exhausting blur, an endless parade of garish banquets, long boring political speeches, and endless double-edged compliments. Jiang Cheng is counting down the days until he leaves, trying hard not to think about how marrying the future Jin sect leader means that, one day, there will not be an escape. At least he himself is the Jiang sect heir, Jiang Cheng reminds himself, so he will not be compelled to live in Carp Tower all the time. In his place, Jiang Yanli wouldn’t have the luxury of that kind of escape.

The only three things helping Jiang Cheng keep his sanity are Wei Wuxian, Mianmian, and sparring practice every night. Wei Wuxian makes snarky comments in Jiang Cheng's ear every time Jin Guangshan gets up to give another long-winded lecture, and Mianmian notices when Jiang Cheng's grip on his robes becomes white-knuckled and she tactfully suggests long, winding strolls through the woods on the outskirts of Carp Tower. Still, their quiet support would not be able to hold him fast against the never-ending strain of the Jin political atmosphere if not for the hour after dinner when Jiang Cheng can sneak out to the senior disciple training courtyard and practice sword forms until he has reduced the training dummies to piles of straw and he is too exhausted to be furious at the world. This is the time he most looks forward to every day—when he can be alone, thinking about nothing but the burn of his muscles and the perfect arc of his blade.

He hasn't even been at Lanling for a week when his one space of solitude is shattered by the last person he wants to see. Well. Maybe the second-to-last person, because at least it isn’t Jin Guangshan. 

"Those aren’t cheap to replace,” says a voice from behind Jiang Cheng as he yanks his sword out of the ruins of yet another training dummy. With a scowl, he turns towards the voice, wiping sweat off his forehead. 

“Get off my dick,” he says loudly, approximately one second before he realizes that Wei Wuxian doesn’t wear golden robes, and oh, he is so totally screwed. “Fuck. Oh, shit. Ah. Jin Zixuan. I didn’t—I thought you were someone else.”

Jin Zixuan is wearing that same look of cold distaste as usual. “And if you had known it was me, your greeting would differ?”

Jiang Cheng feels the familiar flare of anger in his stomach, a feeling that has been extremely common since he arrived in Lanling. Normally he would tamp it down, but it is the end of another long day in a string of long days, and his training time is sacred, and Jin Zixuan has his nose in the air as he stares down at Jiang Cheng and his sweat-soaked robes, and Jiang Cheng really cannot take it any longer. 

“Of course, if I had known it was you, I would have gotten on my knees and berated myself for not recognizing your eminent footsteps approaching,” he spits. “What do you want?”

His tone catches Jin Zixuan off-guard. Jiang Cheng can see it in the way he takes a halting step backwards before he remembers himself and draws up to his full height. “I am here because I heard noises from the training grounds,” he sniffs, “and it is unusual for Jin sect disciples to be exercising this late.” 

Lazy golden lumps, Jiang Cheng thinks. “Well,” he says aloud, “I’m not a Jin sect disciple.”

“Yes, well, the reason Jin disciples do not train this late is because supervision is required on the training grounds.” Jin Zixuan folds his arms across his chest and shoots Jiang Cheng a pointed look. “Without a supervising senior disciple or Jin cultivator, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Jiang Cheng permits himself one moment to think about what he would do to Jin Zixuan if they were not esteemed representatives of their respective sects. The image of his hands around the Jin sect heir’s neck is a pleasant one, and it gives him an idea. 

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

Jin Zixuan blinks. “I–”

“Great.” Jiang Cheng crouches and raises his sword to continue his practice, and Jin Zixuan interrupts him with a cough.

“You can’t.”

“Why can’t I?” Jiang Cheng levels a glare at him. “Are you not yet considered a full cultivator, Young Master Jin?”

Jin Zixuan’s ears flush red with a gratifying alacrity. “How dare you—”

“Then prove it.” Jiang Cheng nods to Jin Zixuan’s hand on his sword. “Let’s spar.”

“I—I can’t do that!”

“Why not? Are you scared?” Jiang Cheng probably shouldn’t be baiting him like this, but he can’t really help it. It feels so good compared to all the bowing and scraping he’s been doing. And he kind of wants to see if Jin Zixuan’s face can get red enough to match his vermillion mark.

“No! ” Jin Zixuan shouts, and he stamps his foot like a child. “I—it’s late! And I’m not wearing the right robes!”

It’s Jiang Cheng’s turn to stare. “What?”

“What do you mean, what?”

“Not wearing the right robes?” Jiang Cheng gives him a pointed up-and-down look. “You aren’t dressed in anything ceremonial.”

Jin Zixuan scowls. “I shouldn’t exercise in these. Sweat could ruin the silk.”

Jiang Cheng opens his mouth to say how ridiculous that is, but instead what comes out is a bark of laughter. “Are you joking?” 

Jin Zixuan levels a venomous glare at him, and Jiang Cheng presses his hand over his mouth to try to suppress his smile.

“If you mock the Jin clan,” Jin Zixuan begins, but Jiang Cheng waves him off.

“I’m not mocking the Jin clan—just you, idiot. Stop making stupid excuses.” He brandishes Sandu, and Jin Zixuan hesitates for a moment.

“I don’t think—”

Jiang Cheng ignores him. With a cry, he spins around and brings his sword down hard towards Jin Zixuan. To his relief (and delight), Jin Zixuan raises his own sword, barely in time to catch the blow, which sends him staggering backwards.

“You—” he hisses, but Jiang Cheng isn’t here to talk, so he leaps back and goes for a tricky sweep close to the ground. Jin Zixuan manages to sidestep it only at the last moment, and Sandu slices at empty robes.

Jiang Cheng springs back and braces for Jin Zixuan’s attacking blow. When nothing comes, he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t lower his sword.

“You’re supposed to fight back,” he points out. Jin Zixuan glares at him, his own sword still drawn, but doesn’t make a move to attack.

“I am not sparring with you,” he spits. 

Jiang Cheng considers this for a moment and then shrugs. “I’m sparring with you, though.” He swings Sandu around and aims for the shoulder, and when Jin Zixuan blocks him again, hard this time, Jiang Cheng can feel the reverberation in his teeth.

“You’re attacking the Jin sect heir,” says Jin Zixuan in a low voice, but then he’s spinning around and aiming a flurry of blows at Jiang Cheng’s unprotected left side. Jiang Cheng barely manages to leap out of the way in time to catch nothing worse than an elbow to the ribs, the raw adrenaline of a real fight quickly drowning out the small burst of pain. 

“You’re fast,” he says, surprising both himself and Jin Zixuan, who blinks at him. Jiang Cheng hadn’t meant to say it aloud—and he certainly hadn’t meant to say it aloud like that, like it was any kind of compliment rather than just a truth inflated by the fact that Jiang Cheng has never really seen Jin Zixuan exert himself. Sure, at Gusu they had sword fighting classes, but Jin Zixuan always seemed to focus more on the flair of his fighting style than on the actual discipline that comes from repeated drills. After being in Lanling for a few days, Jiang Cheng is starting to suspect that maybe Jin Zixuan is just a product of his environment.

“So are you,” Jin Zixuan retorts, “but you’re distracted easily.” He drives his point home with a glancing blow that turns into a frontal strike at the last moment, leaving Jiang Cheng staggering back, teeth clenched. “You should work on that.”

“Why don’t you work on this,” hisses Jiang Cheng, and he aims Sandu at Jin Zixuan’s legs. As Jin Zixuan leaps backwards to avoid it, Jiang Cheng sticks out his own leg and locks his ankle behind Jin Zixuan’s knee. This is a move he learned from sparring with Wei Wuxian, who always fights dirty. 

With a single shove to the chest, Jin Zixuan’s legs give way and he tumbles to the ground where Jiang Cheng pins him down. His sword clatters out of his hand and Jiang Cheng raises Sandu to his throat, breathing hard and grinning.

“Do you yield?” he asks, unnecessarily. Jin Zixuan is glaring at him, red spots of exertion burning high in his cheeks.

“That was a sneaky trick,” he spits. 

“But it worked.” Jiang Cheng would never use this kind of move in the Cloud Recesses, but nobody is watching here, and now Jin Zixuan is sprawled out beneath him, perfect robes in disarray, completely at Jiang Cheng’s mercy. Jiang Cheng feels a deep, abrupt surge of embarrassment well up in him, and he quickly gets to his feet. Something about this move feels less weird with just him and Wei Wuxian, when Jiang Cheng knows any victory he takes will be extremely short-lived before his brother launches a new spate of attacks. 

In contrast, Jin Zixuan is just lying on the ground, chest rising and falling. “That wasn’t sparring,” he says to the sky. “That was cheating.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes and steps into Jin Zixuan’s peripheral view. “Come on,” he says shortly, and offers Jin Zixuan his hand because that’s what he’d do if it was Wei Wuxian on the ground, or any Jiang disciple, and there’s nothing weird about it now that he isn’t sitting directly on top of him. “Your robes are probably covered with dirt.”

Jin Zixuan shoots upright. “Oh no,” he moans, “and they just were tailored…”

Jiang Cheng fights very hard not to roll his eyes again. “What’s the point of clothing that you can’t fight in?”

Jin Zixuan looks at Jiang Cheng’s extended hand like it’s an alien thing, but after a moment he takes it and helps himself to his feet. “You Jiang know nothing of elegance,” he grumbles. 

His hand is not as soft and tender as Jiang Cheng expected it to be—he has thick calluses from gripping his sword. “Elegance,” he echoes, because he is not spending this evening thinking about Jin Zixuan’s hands, of all things. “That’s not worth much if you’re dead.”

Jin Zixuan glares and yanks his hand away. “I didn’t exactly expect to be attacked on the grounds of Carp Tower,” he points out.

“You weren’t attacked. Just because you lost—”

“You cheated!”

“—you don’t have to be a sore loser about it.”

Jin Zixuan narrows his eyes and a moment of tense silence descends. “You dare to insult me,” he says coldly.

Jiang Cheng feels that inappropriate urge to laugh again rising in his throat. Is Jin Zixuan really that sensitive? “I dare. If you want me to take it back, beat me in a fight sometime.” He means it as a taunt, and he half-expects Jin Zixuan to huff and storm away, but instead, the Jin sect heir looks… like he’s seriously considering it.

“You’re here every night,” he says finally, and Jiang Cheng nods, wary. “Despite the rules.”

“I didn’t know there were rules,” Jiang Cheng is exasperated, but he would be able to find it in himself to be angrier if his body wasn’t still humming all over from the thrill of the fight, from the pure adrenaline joy of an actual physical victory after days of silent snubs and unspoken political battles. “Maybe that’s on you.”

To his complete surprise, Jin Zixuan nods slowly. “Maybe. But from now on, I will take you up on your challenge. On the condition that you actually fight like a cultivator.”

Jiang Cheng is actually stunned into silence for a moment. “Why?” he asks, bluntly. “Why would you willingly spend more time with me? You don’t like me.” 

As far as he knows it’s the complete truth, but Jin Zixuan winces. “We need to get along,” he says impatiently. “For the sake of our clans. And for the sake of,” his throat bobs, “your sister.”

Right. The heavy weight of dread—which Jiang Cheng had managed to forget about for the brief few moments of their fight—descends on him once again. Jin Zixuan still believes he will marry Jiang Yanli. And Jiang Cheng still has to convince him—no, not him, his father—that Jiang Cheng will make a better spouse to Jin Zixuan than Yanli would. Jiang Cheng can feel his throat closing up at the thought of it. Well, he thinks bitterly, noting the way Jin Zixuan’s lip curls in disgust, he has no idea how much worse it could be. How much worse it will be. Let him live in ignorance, thinking A-jie is the worst of his problems.

“Of course,” says Jiang Cheng aloud, trying not to let his vitriol creep into his voice. “I should go back and get washed up for bed.” He pauses only for the briefest of bows—disrespectful, really, but neither of the two of them bowed before their match, so certain breaks in formality are probably permissible right now—and then his feet are moving of their own accord, carrying him across the training grounds and away from the Jin heir.

“Jiang Wanyin,” says Jin Zixuan behind him, and Jiang Cheng does not want to, but he halts in place. “I will see you tomorrow, then.”

A sudden wave of intense exhaustion hits Jiang Cheng. His one space of sacred refuge is gone, and there is nothing he can do about it. The flames of rage always burning in his stomach lurch to life, but then, unbidden, the image of Jin Zixuan flat on his back in the dirt, a sword at his throat, springs into Jiang Cheng’s mind. The way his lips had parted in shock and indignity, like he hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to accept the fact that he’d been defeated. The image is brief but vivid, and Jiang Cheng feels his anger receding, replaced instead by the urge to smirk. 

“Tomorrow,” he says without turning around. “Wear something you don’t mind getting stained.” Without waiting for a response, he marches off towards his rooms. Jin Zixuan is probably standing there speechless in his dirt-streaked robes and fuming that he didn’t get the last word, he thinks. 

The grin that tugs at Jiang Cheng’s lips stays there as he slips into his room, and begins to undress for bed, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s sleepy questions about why are you always back so late, what’s so funny, did Jin Zixun fall down the stairs or something? Fine, if you aren’t going to answer, I’m going back to sleep, okay?. The smile lingers long after he turns out the light.

____________________________________________________________________________

Life in Lanling settles into some sort of a rhythm. Jiang Cheng rises in the morning with Wei Wuxian to make sure his brother isn’t going to go poking around on his own and scare the junior disciples like he did in the first week, sneaking into their sleeping quarters and searching for the bottles of alcohol that a few of them have stored under their floorboards. After a short breakfast, Mianmian invites them out for a quick tour of some random building or nearby landmark, usually an excuse for her to gossip about the latest drama at Carp Tower away from discerning ears. Two of the senior disciples were caught at the brothel in town… they say that a representative from the Nie sect is coming in several weeks’ time to discuss the cultivation laws on the borders… Madame Jin threw such a fit last night, they could hear it all the way at the foot of Carp Tower… At first Jiang Cheng had resented this petty drama, but he soon came to realize that the way information was traded and gathered in Lanling had everything to do with this kind of word-of-mouth network. He began to pay closer attention, and to be grateful for Mianmian’s quick mind and careful wit. She knew how to hold her tongue, how to insinuate something that she would never be permitted to say aloud, and she knew which hallways had the best acoustics for eavesdropping. Plus, she was funny, and she was one of the few people Jiang Cheng had ever met who could match Wei Wuxian in a battle of double entendres.

After lunch there was always a diplomatic visit with the latest big shot who was being hosted at Carp Tower—an endless parade of guild leaders, merchants, musicians, local politicians, seemingly anyone who Jin Guangshan wanted to dazzle with his wealth and extract a thing or two from about current affairs. Jiang Cheng would almost be impressed if he weren’t kind of disgusted. 

These meetings would inevitably bleed into a big, splashy dinner, where everyone would whisper about each other behind their sleeves as they passed the drinks around. These meals set Jiang Cheng’s teeth on edge, and he usually tried to focus instead on whatever ridiculous thing Wei Wuxian was doing to distract him: balancing several cups on top of each other until they crashed down and he apologized profusely to everyone present, or imitating the mannerisms of whatever guest was currently speaking, or—this was Jiang Cheng’s favorite, though he would never admit this or encourage any of Wei Wuxian’s embarrassing behavior—-pretending Jiang Yanli was there with them, trying to find the best in all the lousy people of Lanling.

“But shijie,” Wei Wuxian would say quietly, “Madame Jin was really screaming at those servants.” Then he would switch to Jiang Yanli’s gentle high-pitched voice, only slightly exaggerated. “Oh, A-Xian, you can’t judge people just for their bad behavior. Perhaps those servants really did something to deserve being called those nasty names?” Back to his original voice. “You’re right. I don’t know how important those pillows are to Madame Jin, so maybe it really is a big deal when they don’t get fluffed up correctly!” Then Yanli again: “A-Xian, you’re doing a good job being considerate!” Jiang Cheng would find himself clutching his cup with white knuckles, trying hard not to burst out laughing in front of the entire assembly, as Mianmian covered her mouth and struggled to maintain her own straight face. Once, during a particularly bad attack of hilarity, Jiang Cheng had glanced up and found Jin Zixuan staring at him with a strange look—a mix of perplexity and something almost like longing. The eye contact had been startling enough that Jiang Cheng had almost choked on his drink, and by the time Wei Wuxian had managed to discreetly pound him on the back hard enough to get his lungs working again, Jin Zixuan had returned to staring coolly at his dinner like he normally did.

Actually, Jin Zixuan was really the only part of Carp Tower that Jiang Cheng was having trouble pinning down. Jiang Cheng understood the rituals of gossip and intrigue and scandal, and even if he couldn’t keep up with all the subtle political manipulations, he knew enough to keep himself and Wei Wuxian out of trouble. He understood that wealth and gift-giving were their own language around Lanling. He was even starting to learn something of the hierarchy of the tower—like how Madame Jin’s personal maids seemed to have more clout than some the most senior disciples—-but he still did not understand why Jin Zixuan showed up every evening without fail to spar with Jiang Cheng until they were both fairly swaying with exhaustion. And what’s more, he didn’t understand why he found himself reluctant to tell Wei Wuxian about it. It wasn’t like he was hiding anything. It was simply easier to let his brother believe he was still training on his own in the evenings.

 There was something about the twilight hours that Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan spent together in the training area, the ring of their blades meeting again and again, that felt private and cathartic. They didn’t speak much during these times, but Jiang Cheng was surprised to find that he had begun to learn how to read Jin Zixuan’s body language—to know when he was about to feint to the left, when he was about to dodge right, and when he planned to try something risky, how he tucked his tongue into the corner of his mouth for half a second as he centered his focus. It confused Jiang Cheng, and he wondered if maybe Jin Zixuan could read him just as well—an uncomfortable thought.

But all in all, Jiang Cheng was starting to feel fairly confident that he was doing okay as a diplomatic envoy who would soon have to become a diplomatic envoy slash suitor. Not great, obviously, but what could be great about taking his sister’s place in a loveless marriage of political alliance? No, Jiang Cheng was doing pretty well with what he had. He was even starting to become friendlier with some of the servants and disciples, who appreciated that he took the time to nod to them and remember their names instead of ignoring them like Jin Guangshan did. Allies were important to have in a place like this, he reminded himself. Jiang Cheng could keep his temper under control as long as he had Wei Wuxian to joke with him, Mianmian to guide him, and—maybe—Jin Zixuan to spar with and beat down at the end of the day. The Jin heir had been slowly and steadily improving, but Jiang Cheng still prided himself on the fact that he himself was the one winning most of their matches—perhaps because he was used to fighting with a partner at Yunmeng, while Jin Zixuan usually trained by himself or with the senior disciples, who were too afraid to go all-out against their young master. 

Jiang Cheng was starting to let himself think, I could maybe get used to this. And that was when it all went wrong.

____________________________________________________________________________

The Wen delegation arrived in the early afternoon. Jiang Cheng would not have known about this until the evening if it hadn’t been for Mianmian—brave, sneaky Mianmian who had happened to be passing through the central courtyard when the soldiers entered to announce the imminent arrival of their second young master. She had sneaked off along a secret path behind the armory to the Jiang quarters, where she had thrown the door open and announced, out of breath, “Wen Chao is coming to dinner!”

Wei Wuxian, who had been diligently writing Jiang Yanli a letter full of offensive doodles, leapt to his feet so suddenly that he knocked his ink palette over. “What?”

Jiang Cheng also leapt to his feet, cursing as he tried to save his own letter from the rapidly-spreading path of the ink. “Wei Wuxian! Watch your clumsy—-” Mianmian’s words caught up with him, and he froze. “Wait. Wen Chao?”

Mianmian nodded. She doubled over, her hands on her knees, as she tried to catch her breath. “I saw the Wen soldiers. Just now. Main courtyard. Said Wen Ruohan’s second son was here for—” she drew in a deep breath, “a diplomatic visit.”

“Right,” said Wei Wuxian through his teeth. “Like he was there for a diplomatic visit at the Cloud Recesses too.”

“There’s definitely something wrong.” Mianmian cast a worried glance at Jiang Cheng. “And there’s no way it’s a coincidence that the Wens are here when you two are visiting from Yunmeng.”

“A power play, then.” Jiang Cheng speaks slowly, puzzling it out in his mind. “But it’s not outright hostility or anything. Or else he would have sent Wen Xu.”

Mianmian is nodding. “But what could he possibly want? Wen Ruohan must know that Jin Guangshan would stay neutral towards the Wen clan unless there was a direct threat that forced him to take action.”

Wei Wuxian cups his chin, oblivious to the inky mark he leaves behind. “Maybe that’s why he wants to take action,” he says contemplatively. “To see how far he can push the Jin clan before they will push back.”

A grim silence descends. Jiang Cheng doesn’t need to look at Mianmian’s frown to know that the answer is pretty far. Despite his ostentatiousness and frequent preening, Jin Guangshan likes to go with the crowd. He wouldn’t be the first one to take a military stance against an aggressive clan like Nie Mingjue would, and he wouldn’t push back against broken rules and trampled etiquette like Lan Qiren would either. If anything, Jin Guangshan would want to meet the Wens on a kind of neutral political ground, a space of words rather than action. It’s what he and his clan are good at.

“Maybe the Jin clan will out-manipulate those manipulators,” says Wei Wuxian like he’s reading Jiang Cheng’s mind. “All the Wen have is the advantage of surprise, right? And they won’t even have that for long.”

They also have Jin Guangshan’s enormous ego, thinks Jiang Cheng grimly. It makes sense why Wen Ruohan wouldn’t send his son to Lotus Pier. Jiang Cheng’s father would outright dismiss Wen Chao, if his mother didn’t scare him off first. The Jiang clan is not interested in posturing and scheming—if they think someone is up to no good, they’ll say so. And there is no way that Wen Chao, with his sneers and non-subtle threats which Jiang Cheng remembers well from the Cloud Recesses, could be up to anything good.

“So what do we do?” asks Mianmian, and Jiang Cheng is startled to find that both she and Wei Wuxian are looking at him. “Just sit around and wait for them to make their move?”

Jiang Cheng clenches and unclenches his jaw. What he really wants to do is go challenge Wen Chao to a fight just for the satisfaction of punching him in his smug face, but he settles for curling his fist around his sword. “What else can we do?” he says, hating the bitter taste of the words on his tongue. “At least we’ll be ready to take a hard stance against the Wens’ bullshit.”

Mianmian looks uneasy. “I guess so.”

Wei Wuxian rubs his nose thoughtfully. “Mianmian, do you have access to any previous documented arrangements that the Jin had with the Wens? Maybe Wen Chao is here to make good on some dumb bargain that everyone long since forgot.”

“I can go look through the archives.” Mianmian casts a glance around the room. “I think you two should stay here, though,” she adds quickly when she sees Jiang Cheng make a move towards the door. “There’s no telling who is strolling around Carp Tower looking for a fight.”

Jiang Cheng tries to ignore the pointed look that the two of them shoot at him. “Then hurry and bring us those documents,” he snaps, a little harsher than necessary. He doesn’t like the idea of sitting around with nothing to do but worry. “So we can be at least a little prepared.”

Mianmian nods once more before hurrying out, throwing a furtive look over her shoulder as she goes. As soon as the door closes, Wei Wuxian is moving to put his hand on Jiang Cheng’s arm.

“Jiang Cheng—”

Jiang Cheng shakes him off. “I’m not going to go berserk and start killing everyone wearing red, you know,” he says testily. “I just don’t like feeling helpless.”

“I know.” Wei Wuxian’s eyes are big and anxious, and at the sight, Jiang Cheng feels himself deflate slightly. At least he has his brother here with him. “Me neither. So as soon as Mianmian comes back, we’ll be able to get a handle on this, okay?”

Jiang Cheng forces himself to stop grinding his teeth. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry so much.” Wei Wuxian slaps Jiang Cheng on the back and plasters on a smile that would look pretty real to anyone who isn’t Jiang Cheng or Jiang Yanli. “Who are those jerks to take on the Twin Prides of Yunmeng anyway, huh? I have a feeling it’s all going to work out.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Five hours later, when Mianmian still hasn’t returned and Jiang Cheng has torn every piece of paper in their quarters to shreds in his attempts to write a letter, Wei Wuxian’s optimism is flagging a little.

 “Maybe she got detained by Madame Jin,” he suggests for the fifth time. “To help get the main hall ready for dinner, or something.”

Jiang Cheng opens his mouth to tell his brother to shut up with his stupid foolish optimism, but he’s interrupted by a knock on the door. The two of them shoot each other a look before Jiang Cheng leaps to his feet and yanks the door open.

It isn’t Mianmian. Instead, a scared-looking Jin servant bows before him and says, “Young Master Jiang, your presence is requested at the main hall for a formal dinner banquet.”

“How formal?” Wei Wuxian is suddenly at Jiang Cheng’s side. “How many people are going to be there?”

The servant hesitates. “I—I don’t know,” he stammers. “I was only told to inform you—”

Jiang Cheng dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “Right. You carried out your job, so leave us alone.”

The servant blanches and scurries off, and Wei Wuxian lifts an eyebrow at Jiang Cheng, who rolls his eyes and turns towards their wardrobe. “What,” he says petulantly. “The sooner we dress, the sooner we can learn more about what’s going on.”

Wei Wuxian sighs and moves to join him. “I think we’re walking into a trap,” he says softly.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes again, harder. “Obviously.”

Wei Wuxian’s frown deepens. “I just wish we knew what kind.”

They ready themselves grimly, in silence. Every time Jiang Cheng glances over at Wei Wuxian, he finds him deep in thought, concentration creasing his brow. It isn’t reassuring to see his normally-jovial brother like this. Jiang Cheng tells himself to take deep breaths and to remember that he is the heir to the Jiang clan. He has an army behind him. Nothing bad will happen to him. He’s going to marry Jin Zixuan, he reminds himself, so how much worse can it get?

As soon as they set foot in the banquet hall, Jiang Cheng knows the answer is a lot worse. Wen Chao is at the main table at the front of the hall, lounging on the right side of Jin Guangshan, smirking like he knows some dirty secret. Jin Guangshan looks perfectly at ease, chatting with Wen Chao and smiling at the guests as they enter. In contrast, Jin Zixuan—who is seated stiffly at his father’s left, next to his mother—has his lips pressed together hard enough to turn them white. 

Jin Zixuan doesn’t like to frown, Jiang Cheng knows. He thinks it will give him wrinkles in old age, even though that’s ridiculous and everyone knows cultivation can stave off those sorts of effects. Jiang Cheng still takes great delight in reminding the Jin sect heir about his own policy on frowning every time he scowls during their spars—usually when Jiang Cheng wins. Jin Zixuan’s eyebrows will shoot up, and he will quickly school his expression into a near-perfect mask of calm, his anger only apparent in the way he grips the hilt of his sword too tightly. 

Jiang Cheng recognizes the calm on his face now. He knows Jin Zixuan is likely gripping his sword in his lap tight enough to leave impressions on his palms. Wen Chao must have said something horrible right before they entered the room.

Wei Wuxian bumps Jiang Cheng with his shoulder, and Jiang Cheng startles for a moment before he remembers that all eyes are on the two of them. He bows deeply to the assembled Jin disciples. And to the Wens, unfortunately interspersed in the banquet crowd and too visible in their blood-red robes. 

“Now that the Jiang sect has finally made itself present,” says Jin Guangshan loudly with a smile, “we can begin!”

Jiang Cheng feels a vein throb in his forehead as a maid leads them to their places at a table next to Jin Guangshan’s. He and Wei Wuxian didn’t arrive late. They came as soon as they were summoned. Unless, of course, that servant was delayed somehow. Or Jin Guangshan is just trying to humiliate them. Or—

Wei Wuxian interrupts Jiang Cheng’s train of thoughts by pinching his thigh as soon as they are seated. “Hey,” he whispers when Jiang Cheng turns to glare, “where’s Mianmian? I don’t see her.”

Jiang Cheng freezes. He hadn’t even thought to scan the room for her because he had been too preoccupied with the flares of Wen red moving in the crowded banquet hall, with the way Jin Zixuan had flinched when Wen Chao lifted his cup to his mouth. Now he does a quick scan, craning his neck to look at every nearby female cultivator in Jin gold. None of them are Mianmian.

Wei Wuxian is breathing shallowly next to him. “Something happened to her,” he says, his voice strange. Jiang Cheng swallows hard and places what he hopes is a steadying hand on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.

“Nothing happened to her,” he says, surprising himself with how even his voice is. “She’s smart. She can take care of herself.”

Wei Wuxian raises his gaze to meet Jiang Cheng’s, but before he can say anything, Jin Guangshan claps his hands and calls, “Bring out the first course!”

Of course this is going to be one of those huge multi-course dinners, Jiang Cheng thinks with a combination of disgust and fury. Wen Chao loves to drag things out, and so does Jin Guangshan. A stream of Jin maids are pouring into the room, all bearing large trays piled high with steaming bowls of food, and Jiang Cheng has never had less of an appetite. He glances up again to see how Jin Zixuan is reacting, and he feels his blood turn to ice. 

Mianmian is making her way up the stairs towards the main table. She isn’t wearing her cultivator’s robes—she’s dressed in the uniform of a Carp Tower maid, and she is carrying a tray of food. And she doesn’t have her sword.

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng says slowly, and Wei Wuxian follows the line of his vision. When he spots Mianmian, it is only Jiang Cheng’s hand still on his shoulder that forces him to remain sitting.

It looks so… wrong. Jiang Cheng can’t think of any other description. Mianmian has her eyes trained on the floor as she bows and places the tray on the table, and even from their position a few seats away, Jiang Cheng can see how miserable she looks. Her normal smile is gone, replaced by a flat look that could be mistaken for indifference, but Jiang Cheng recognizes it as a tamping down of emotion. Mianmian is trying very hard not to cry.

Jin Zixuan is scowling now at Wen Chao, but Madame Jin is entirely absorbed in fussing over her own dish, and Jin Guangshan is ignoring Mianmian like she’s just another maid. Maybe he doesn’t realize he is being served by one of the highest-ranking cultivators in the Jin clan, Jiang Cheng thinks with a sudden surge of anger, simply because she isn’t dressed like one.

Mianmian moves to turn away and retreat down the steps, but then Wen Chao—who has been sitting still this entire time, his eyes on Mianmian’s face—suddenly turns to say something to Jin Guangshan’s ear, and Jin Guangshan blinks for a moment before nodding. He gestures to Mianmian, and she pauses. Slowly, almost painfully, she makes her way around the table to stand next to Wen Chao, and when he flicks his hand at her, she takes a deep breath—Jiang Cheng sees it, he feels the agony of it in his own lungs—and kneels to pour more alcohol into his cup.

Wei Wuxian is on his feet before Jiang Cheng can stop him. Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if he wants to stop him. “Sect Leader Jin,” he says aloud, and the murmurs of conversation around the room begin to die down. “I have a toast to propose.”

Some of the guests begin to mutter uneasily. This isn’t the way that things are done, Jiang Cheng knows. The older visiting guest can’t make the first toast at a banquet—that is for the host, or for the newest honored guest, especially one as esteemed as the second son of the Wen clan. But Wei Wuxian plows forward anyway, ignoring the whispers.

“To the Jin sect,” he says, plucking his cup off the table, “and to their endless hospitality. I commend our noble host for his welcoming spirit, and for the generosity of his clan members. Like his son, Young Master Jin Zixuan.” He lifts his cup higher and looks expectantly at the sect heir.

Jin Zixuan stares blankly back for a moment before he realizes he is expected to rise to his feet. He does so, lifting his own cup gracefully as he does, but Jiang Cheng notes the confused twist of his mouth. 

Wei Wuxian grins. “And,” he says, “like the esteemed and beautiful Madame Jin.”

Another pause. Madame Jin, who had been focused on picking sulkily at a piece of fish, snaps her eyes up to Wei Wuxian and slowly gets to her feet as well, smoothing out her hair. She looks bemused, and a little frustrated at the interruption.

“And of course,” Wei Wuxian adds, his smile only growing, “the talented Luo Qingyang.”

An even longer pause. Jin Zixuan’s eyes dart immediately to Mianmian, who has set the alcohol bottle down and is looking at Jin Guangshan like she doesn’t know what to do. After a moment, when it becomes clear he is refusing to return her gaze, she stands and casts an uneasy look at Wei Wuxian.

“To all these brilliant and talented cultivators,” Wei Wuxian says brightly, “and to the honor they bring to the Jin clan.” He downs his cup, and Jiang Cheng only hesitates for a moment—his eyes catch Jin Zixuan’s, and the Jin sect heir is looking at him with an imploring look that Jiang Cheng can’t quite read—before he tips his own cup back. To his relief, he sees that the other guests at the banquet are doing the same, some of them mumbling “To the Jin,” some draining their cups in silence.

Wei Wuxian eases back down with a sigh. Jiang Cheng knows better than to grab his brother’s arm and demand an explanation in front of everyone here, so he tries to think through Wei Wuxian’s insane reasoning. Obviously everyone will notice that Luo Qingyang, the talented cultivator, is wearing a maid’s uniform. To have her stand up after she was sitting at the main table was… clever, he has to admit. She was placed in the same category as the Jin sect heir and first wife, and she was seated with them as well—Wei Wuxian turned Mianmian’s position of subservience into one of power, and now everyone who hadn’t already noticed will now be wondering why Jin Guangshan was okay with one of his cultivators playing at such a low position. 

Of course, Jiang Cheng thinks, shooting Wei Wuxian a look out of the corner of his eye, he also just painted a huge target on their backs. Whatever reason Jin Guangshan has for forcing Mianmian into this charade, he won’t appreciate it being called out directly. He glances back up at the main table and immediately notices that Wen Chao’s smirk has grown even larger. 

A sense of dread wells up in Jiang Cheng’s stomach, but it is swamped almost immediately by the rage that billows into his throat when he notices that Wen Chao’s hand is encircling Mianmian’s bicep, his thumb sliding up and down. She is holding very still and not looking at him.

“He—” says Wei Wuxian, almost spitting the word, and Jiang Cheng knows that his brother has seen it too. “That piece of—”

Wen Chao clears his throat loudly and disgustingly. “That was a great toast,” he says loudly. “I have one as well, Sect Leader.” Without waiting for an answer, he gets to his feet slowly. “The Wen clan is also grateful for this amazing hospitality. And everyone knows the Jiang and the Jin are going to be bound soon by marriage vows, so it is only proper—” he says this word looking directly at Wei Wuxian, “—that the Wens make their own alliance with the Jin clan through a similar kind of unity.” He stops, and the smile that spreads over his face is the greasiest that Jiang Cheng has ever seen. “I, Wen Chao, the second son of Wen Ruohan, will be accepting one Jin disciple into the Wen clan as a concubine and student. To honor the bond of equal exchange between the clans.” His hand is on the back of Mianmian’s robes, and she is being dragged upright. Her face is very pale. “This girl will have the honor of serving as the connection between our sects.”

A cold shock of horror rushes through Jiang Cheng’s entire body. He cannot process the words that just left Wen Chao’s mouth. Concubine? Mianmian isn’t looking at anyone. Wen Chao is holding Wei Wuxian’s gaze with a look of supreme satisfaction as murmurs fill the room once more.

Jin Zixuan’s fist hits the table, making both the food tray and his mother jump. “Wen Chao,” he rasps, and Jiang Cheng can feel the fury radiating off him all the way from his seat. “My father will not allow—”

“Silence,” snaps Jin Guangshan, and Jin Zixuan reels back in shock. “It is not your place to speak, Jin Zixuan.”

Wen Chao’s eyes are dancing with amusement. “She serves well as both cultivator and maid,” he says delightedly, “and so she will be the ideal partner for me. What better symbol of unity could you find?”

Jiang Cheng understands, then. Jin Guangshan was not the one who ordered Mianmian to dress like a servant—but he was the one who turned a blind eye to it. He knew what Wen Chao was planning from the moment the banquet began, but he—Jiang Cheng’s hands curl into fists under the table—-he was okay with it. Jin Guangshan was conceding to Wen Chao, because the thing that Wen Chao wanted wasn’t something he cared to keep. One female cultivator in exchange for an alliance with the Wens, and an exception from whatever havoc they were planning to wreak on the other clans. It must have seemed like a fantastic deal to Jin Guangshan, who didn’t care that Mianmian was an excellent cultivator, highly intelligent, and fiercely loyal to his son. She was a bargaining chip, and nothing more.

As for Jin Zixuan—Jiang Cheng has wanted to punch Wen Chao since he first heard his name earlier today, but his own fury is nothing compared to the pure betrayal and rage written across the Jin sect heir’s face. He has his hand on his sword, and he is half-risen out of his seat, his face bright red. Madame Jin is clutching at his arm to hold him back as Wen Chao throws his head back and laughs.

“This should be a celebration!” he cries to the crowd, and reaches for his own cup, sloshing half of it onto the floor. “A pretty girl and a handsome young man, the future of your clans coming together to form the next generation!” He drains his cup and throws an arm around Mianmian’s waist, laughing as she goes stiff as a board.

Jiang Cheng suddenly remembers Wei Wuxian, holding very still next to him. He glances over and finds his brother half-smiling, which is much more disturbing than Jin Zixuan’s rage.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he whispers, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t blink.

“I’m deciding between decapitation and burning Wen Chao alive,” he whispers back. “I think the second will be more painful, but the first means we don’t have to listen to his stupid pleas for mercy.”

Jiang Cheng fists his own hands in his lap to stop them from shaking. “We need to talk to Jin Zixuan,” he says quietly, mostly to himself, and then he reaches for his cup. It is going to be a very long dinner.

Chapter Text

Every moment is agony. Jiang Cheng hates watching Wen Chao's hands travel to places they have no business going, especially with Mianmian, who looks like she is torn between bursting into tears and trying to strangle Wen Chao. Instead, she just keeps pouring him a steady stream of alcohol, and soon he is half-slumped over the table, reaching out every now and then only to paw weakly at her robes or raise his cup for a refill. 

Madame Jin seems to have no reaction to this, Jiang Cheng notes with disgust. He’s sure that his own mother would have whipped anyone who dared to treat a Jiang cultivator like that during a banquet, but Madame Jin is focused on pestering her son, who is refusing to eat everything on his plate. Jin Zixuan was glaring at Wen Chao with utter hate at the beginning of the meal until his father snapped something at him, and he resorted to glaring at his food. Jiang Cheng tries to imagine what it would feel like if he learned suddenly and abruptly during dinner that Jiang Yanli was to become Wen Chao's concubine, and he nearly knocks over the table with the shudder of rage that passes through him. Deep breaths, he tells himself. He will get as much of the story as he can from Jin Zixuan as soon as this is over.

Wei Wuxian hums to himself softly under his breath, and every now and then he mutters a new punishment that he has added to the list of how he will torture Wen Chao. If the way he manages to not make an enormous scene right here in front of everyone is to plan Wen Chao's grisly murder, then Jiang Cheng has no argument with it. Some of that violence is sounding pretty tempting right now anyway.

Finally, finally, after about ten thousand years, the banquet is over, and Jin Guangshan gets to his feet to thank everyone for coming. Mianmian rises as well to collect plates, leaving an alcohol-soaked Wen Chao swaying in his seat. Jiang Cheng watches her glance over at Jin Zixuan, who is on his feet and wide-eyed, and he sees the minute shake of her head as she moves to join the other maids carrying the dirty dishes out of the banquet hall. Don’t follow me.

“I know where the Wen chambers are,” Wei Wuxian whispers into Jiang Cheng’s ear as the two of them stand up. “Let’s jump Wen Chao when he gets back. If anyone asks about his injuries tomorrow, we can say he tripped during the night while drunk.”

Jiang Cheng levels Wei Wuxian with a look of disbelief. “That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” he says flatly. 

Wei Wuxian crosses his arms and frowns. “Okay, then, what’s your genius plan?”

Jiang Cheng glances over at Jin Zixuan, who is staring at Mianmian’s retreating back as his mother next to him gestures dramatically about something. As if he senses Jiang Cheng’s eyes on him, he looks up and catches his gaze.

Jiang Cheng widens his eyes at Jin Zixuan and then allows his hand to drift down to settle on his sword hilt. Jin Zixuan blinks once and then nods, minutely. 

Whatever they do next, they need Jin Zixuan to be involved. Jiang Cheng is certain of this. The Jin sect heir will know how to play by the rules—or how to break them without getting caught. 

“My plan is to figure out how this mess started,” Jiang Cheng says to Wei Wuxian, who is looking at him now with narrowed eyes. “Follow me.” He whirls on his heel and stalks out the door, pushing through the crowd of Jin and Wen cultivators.

To Wei Wuxian’s credit, he waits until they turn off the main path, away from the Jin cultivators, to grab Jiang Cheng’s arm and hiss, “Where are we going? And what was with that eye contact with Jin Zixuan?”

Jiang Cheng wrenches his arm out of Wei Wuxian’s grip and plows forward. “We’re going to the senior disciple training ground,” he says impatiently. “So we can speak with the only other person in this hellhole who cares about Mianmian and has a modicum of power.”

Wei Wuxian huffs. “As if that peacock has ever appreciated anyone a day in his life,” he mutters, but to Jiang Cheng’s relief, he falls silent and allows himself to be guided through the twisty paths that lead to the training area.

It is fully dark outside by the time they arrive, but Jiang Cheng isn’t bothered—it’s usually much later than this when he gets here anyway. Distantly, they can hear the clatter of Jin disciples preparing for bed, but the training grounds are set a little ways off from the residential buildings. If they are quiet, there is no danger of being overheard. 

Jiang Cheng enjoys a blissful moment of near-silence before Wei Wuxian says snarkily, “So where’s your future husband?”

Jiang Cheng rounds on him. “ Shhhh!” he hisses. “First of all, that’s a secret, remember? Second of all, we left before Jin Zixuan did, so you need to be patient for five seconds. And third of all,” he fumbles for another point to make, “...we’re going to have to all work together, okay? So shut your stupid mouth for Mianmian’s sake.”

Wei Wuxian blinks in surprise. “Wow, fine.” He makes an ugly face and picks his way over to a stone bench on the edge of the grounds, where he slouches over and grumbles, “I didn’t realize you and that peacock were such good friends.”

Jiang Cheng is about to bite out a retort about how they aren’t friends, he just can’t focus with Wei Wuxian’s incessant whining, and then he hears footsteps approaching. Wei Wuxian hears them too—in half an instant, the two of them are pressed back-to-back, swords drawn.

The footsteps draw closer, and then Jin Zixuan emerges onto the grounds, his ridiculous golden robes flowing behind him. He stops dead when he sees the two of them poised to attack.

“An ambush…?” He lifts an eyebrow, and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, tucking Sandu back in its sheath.

“We thought you might be one of the Wens,” he explains, and glances over at Wei Wuxian to see that his brother has lowered his sword but still not sheathed it. “You weren’t followed, were you?”

Jin Zixuan shakes his head. “I took a smaller path that not many people know about.”

“And you took the time to change out of your banquet robes, I see,” says Wei Wuxian icily. “Glad to know that saving your best friend isn’t as important as not getting your fine silk all dirty.”

Jin Zixuan flushes with anger. “It would have been suspicious to tear out the door like you did,” he snaps. “I had to make excuses for you to my mother—so if she asks, you had a bad attack of food poisoning. You’re welcome.”

Wei Wuxian takes an unhurried and threatening step forward, eyes glinting. “Who said I needed your help?”

“Stop being stupid, both of you!” snaps Jiang Cheng, and the two of them whip around to stare like they forgot he was there. “We aren’t here to argue—we need to discuss what the hell is happening. Jin Zixuan. Explain.”

Jin Zixuan sighs, shooting one last look at Wei Wuxian before crossing his arms. “I heard about the Wen delegation when they arrived—unexpectedly, I should add.” He sniffs. “No letter or anything. My father was a little offended.”

Wei Wuxian mutters something under his breath about how a guy who is only a little offended by the Wen clan needs to have his head examined. Jiang Cheng is grateful for the way Jin Zixuan ignores him.

“I was readying myself in my rooms before dinner, and then my cousin Jin Zixun strolls in and says, ‘Did Luo Qingyang lose a bet or something?’ It took me a few minutes to get the truth out of him, which was that he saw Mianmian dressed in a maid uniform, walking with my mother to the kitchens.” 

Jiang Cheng sucks in a breath. No wonder Madame Jin hadn’t appeared surprised at the banquet. 

“I hurried to find my father before dinner, but I only had a few seconds before the Wens showed up in the main dining hall. I tried to ask him about Mianmian, but he waved me off, and just said,” Jin Zixuan swallows hard, “that our honored guest had requested it. And it would do her some good to learn proper… womanly duties.”

Jiang Cheng’s vision goes a little dark at the edges. He wants very badly to hurt someone—preferably Jin Guangshan or Wen Chao. “So when Wen Chao said that about—how he and Mianmian—”

Jin Zixuan nods. His jaw is clenched, Jiang Cheng notices, and his hands are flexing on the handle of his sword like he wants to use it. “I had no idea. But my father didn’t seem at all surprised.” He brings his gaze up to meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes, sudden and intense. “He sold her,” he says bitterly. “For some artificial peace and a temporary alliance. He’s treating her like—”

“A piece of meat,” says Wei Wuxian slowly, and Jiang Cheng glances over at him. He has his eyes on the ground and he is very still. “It’s all because of these stupid Jin politics.”

Jin Zixuan gets a little pinker, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. Jiang Cheng is grateful once again. “If my father already agreed, then there is no way we can rescue Mianmian without causing an inter-clan incident.”

“No wonder Wen Chao came here,” says Jiang Cheng bitterly. “Wen Ruohan wants a way to show he has the Jin clan in hand, and to wave it in the other clans’ faces. Or maybe he wanted your father to object, so he has a reason to target the Jins.” Realization dawns on him suddenly. “He wouldn’t have sent Wen Chao here if it wasn’t for us.”

Jin Zixuan is looking at him, frowning again. I thought that was bad for your skin, thinks Jiang Cheng. "What do you mean?”

“He wanted to show off for the Jiang.” Jiang Cheng realizes how true it is as the words leave his mouth. “And also he wanted to draw parallels. The two clans united in alliance. Only, by claiming one of your cultivators as a concubine—”

“—he’s saying that a concubine and a wife are the same,” says Wei Wuxian, his voice dangerously soft. “That Jiang is submitting to Jin, and Jin is submitting to Wen.” He is shaking a little. “He’s insulting shijie. As if she would ever—as if—”

Jiang Cheng is gritting his own teeth so hard he thinks he might crack a molar, but he reaches out to place his hand on Wei Wuxian’s arm. “So we’re going to prove that asshole wrong,” he growls. “We’ll make him regret this fucking power play— ”

“How?” Jin Zixuan bursts out. “If we do anything to stop Wen Chao, the Wens will take it as hostility.”

“And if we don’t do anything,” snaps Wei Wuxian, “then not only will the Jiang clan’s honor be stamped on, but you’ll also lose your friend. Forget about that, peacock? Or is she just another pawn to you, like she is to your dad?”

Jin Zixuan moves quickly, but Wei Wuxian is fast. In a heartbeat, they have their swords at each other’s throats, Jin Zixuan breathing hard with rage and Wei Wuxian grinning a horrible sharp-edged grin.

“Fucking stop it.” Jiang Cheng shoulders his way between them. “You’re both being idiots. This isn’t going to solve anything.”

Jin Zixuan’s eyes move from Wei Wuxian’s face to Jiang Cheng’s. “I didn’t come to you for help because I thought you would be particularly concerned about the politics of this,” he says quietly, angrily. “I came to you because you two care about your sister. So you can understand why Mianmian cannot go with Wen Chao to Qishan to serve as his—as his— pleasure woman, or whatever disgusting title he wants to use.”

Jiang Cheng exhales, remembering his shudder of rage from earlier when he thought about how he would feel if Jiang Yanli were the one being dishonored. “Of course we’ll help you,” he tells Jin Zixuan, and he’s startled by the way the tension leaves the Jin heir’s body almost immediately, his sword lowering. “You’re right to think about the political side of this. We don’t want to cause a war.”

Wei Wuxian’s scowl says that he wouldn’t really mind causing a war, but Jiang Cheng gives him a look, and his brother sheaths his sword with a sigh. “Then what can we do?” he asks sulkily. “Short of bumping off Wen Chao and pinning it on a random ghost, or something.” 

Jin Zixuan glances thoughtfully towards the disciples’ living quarters. “Wen Chao won’t be able to try anything while he’s a guest here,” he says slowly. “Mianmian will remain a Jin cultivator until they depart for the Nightless City. So we have a little bit of time.”

“What if she didn’t go with him?” Jiang Cheng pauses. “What if we helped her—run away?”

Jin Zixuan blinks. “But where will she go?”

“What about Yunmeng?” Jiang Cheng is pacing now, hands behind his back. “We can take her in, she can change her name—I’m sure that if my parents knew about the threat that the Wens were posing with this proposal, they wouldn’t let it slide.”

Wei Wuxian is nodding. “She would fit in perfectly.”

Jin Zixuan looks pained. “But when Wen Chao finds her gone…”

“Just say she ran away. We’ll keep her here until right before the Wens depart, and we’ll make sure to cover our tracks.” Jiang Cheng halts and looks Jin Zixuan right in the face. “It’s not the greatest plan,” he admits, “but what else can we do?”

Jin Zixuan swallows and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I don’t know. So we had better give it a try.” He puffs up his chest—something that Jiang Cheng used to consider insufferable, but he now recognizes it as a gesture meant to imbue Jin Zixuan with courage he doesn’t feel. “I think it might be too risky to let Mianmian know about the plan right now. Wen Chao is probably going to be keeping her around a lot in the next few days, and we need to be careful.”

“Right.” Jiang Cheng nods at him. “So we’ll keep her in the dark until the last possible minute.”

Wei Wuxian looks pained. “Is there any way we can get a message to her? Just to let her know we’re trying?”

Jin Zixuan looks like he wants to argue, but curiously, he glances at Jiang Cheng and then sighs. “I can ask around,” he says grudgingly. “It will be tricky, because I’m sure my father will keep her isolated, but I can call in a few favors.”

Jiang Cheng bobs his head briefly in approval. “And in the meantime, I’ll reach out to Yunmeng.” He frowns. “I’ll have to be careful about it.”

“What about the actual escape?” Wei Wuxian scratches his nose, deep in thought. “Surely Mianmian will be guarded by Wens.”

“Well.” Jin Zixuan purses his lips. “Since there are two important clan representatives visiting, I suspect my father will organize a night hunt. We can figure out the routes ahead of time, and then cause some sort of distraction so Mianmian can sneak away during the actual event.”

Jiang Cheng can feel the pressure in his chest easing. This seems almost doable. He nearly smiles at Jin Zixuan. “So we have the beginning of a plan, then.”

Jin Zixuan returns his almost-smile with a half-smile of his own. “I guess so.” The smile disappears from his face almost as quickly as it came, and he shoots Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng a serious look. “Thank you,” he says huskily. “For helping me. I was worried that… alone, I can’t really—”

Wei Wuxian scoffs. “Don’t thank us yet. Wait until Mianmian is safe.”

Jin Zixuan squares his shoulders and nods. “You’re right.”

“Should we meet again here tomorrow?” Jiang Cheng glances around the training grounds. For the first time, it occurs to him that this might not be the safest place to have a treacherous discussion. “I don’t know what this place is like during the day.”

Jin Zixuan shakes his head. “Too risky. We should meet one on one, too. All three of us in one place is suspicious, to say the least.” He thinks for a moment, and then nods. “Okay. Tomorrow after lunch, Jiang Wanyin should come to my quarters. Tell anyone who asks that I invited you to try out my private baths after a particularly hard training session.”

Jiang Cheng blinks. “Ah. Um… Okay.”

“You’re sure that isn’t suspicious?” Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows are raised. “If anything, that seems like it would… invite more questions.”

“You haven’t seen my baths,” says Jin Zixuan seriously. “They are amazing.”

“Oookay, whatever you say.” Wei Wuxian glances at Jiang Cheng and widens his eyes a little, code for this guy is weird. 

Jiang Cheng ignores the look and instead says, “Thank you, Young Master Jin. I’ll be there tomorrow.” He wonders if it would be proper to offer a bow, but he decides against it and instead moves forward to touch him lightly on the shoulder. “We will figure out a way to save Mianmian, I swear.”

Jin Zixuan looks uncomfortable for a moment, and Jiang Cheng wonders if he’s said the wrong thing. But then he dips his head and says, “I should be thanking you. But as Wei Wuxian said, I suppose that can wait for the end.” He glances at Wei Wuxian. “Good night, then.”

“Good night,” Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian echo, and Jin Zixuan casts a furtive look around before shuffling off through the gates. 

Wei Wuxian waits until his footsteps have died away to let out a deep breath. “Wow,” he says grimly. “This is shit.”

Jiang Cheng couldn’t agree more. “Let’s head back to our own rooms too. We need to be ready for tomorrow.” 

“Sure.” Wei Wuxian shoots him a strange look as they set off towards their quarters, but before Jiang Cheng can decipher it, he says, “You still didn’t explain how you knew that Jin Zixuan was going to meet us here.”

Jiang Cheng stiffens. “I just did,” he says unconvincingly. Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue.

“Been stalking your soon-to-be-fiance?”

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng rounds on him. “It isn’t like that!”

“Sure.” Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes and grins mischievously. “He did seem really eager to invite you to his… what was it? Private baths.” He winks and takes off running as Jiang Cheng curses and gives chase. 

The two of them race each other all the way back to their rooms, and only once they have collapsed into bed does Jiang Cheng permit himself to think again about Mianmian. About her pale, still face as Wen Chao’s palm slid down her hips. 

We’re going to help you, he thinks fiercely. For A-jie’s sake. For the Jiang sect. And—Jiang Cheng pictures the wrinkles on Jin Zixuan’s forehead, the little half-smile he offered Jiang Cheng—for the Jin as well.

____________________________________________________________________________

At the stroke of midday, Jiang Cheng is outside Jin Zixuan's private chambers, squaring his shoulders and wishing the guards out front would stop looking at him with such undisguised suspicion. "I am here to see the young master," he snaps, hoping he has enough Sect Heir Authority in his voice to make them back off. "He invited me."

One of the guards bows and then gives Jiang Cheng an unsubtle once-over. "Of course, Young Master Jiang. I'll go speak with him right now." He bows again and slips inside, leaving Jiang Cheng alone with the other guard who straightens up and places a protective hand on his own sword. Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. What's with all this wariness? Maybe Wei Wuxian has given the Jiang sect a bad reputation behind his back.

A minute passes, and then Jin Zixuan emerges, the first guard right behind him. As soon as he sees Jiang Cheng, he lets out a sigh of relief. "Ah. Jiang Wanyin. I thought you were… someone else." He waves off the guard at the door, who steps aside respectfully. "Please enter."

Jiang Cheng bows stiffly and follows Jin Zixuan into his quarters. "Thank you, Young Master Jin," he says in a tone as formal as he can muster, since they are still within earshot of the guards. If Jin Zixuan is worried enough about the Wens to post guards outside his rooms, then Jiang Cheng assumes that even in the private chambers of the Jin sect heir it isn't exactly safe to speak freely.

"The baths are this way," Jin Zixuan says as they enter the main living space, and Jiang Cheng has to remind himself not to gawk because wow , that is a lot of gold. Ornamentation gilds every surface, from the complicated carvings on the ceiling to the elaborate precious objects arranged on a series of gem-inlaid tables. Jiang Cheng wonders how it is possible to live in a space like this without being afraid to sit down for fear of destroying something priceless. 

Jin Zixuan must notice the way Jiang Cheng's eyes are darting around the room, because he pauses and says, "Does the style differ from the rooms at Lotus Pier?"

That's one way of putting it, Jiang Cheng thinks, but aloud he says, "In Yunmeng, we are used to spaces that are… focused on function over form."

Jin Zixuan nods and bites his lip. "I don't spend the majority of my time here," he says quickly, and Jiang Cheng blinks. Is he embarrassed? "I prefer my own room, or the senior disciples' study areas."

"Oh." That explains why he had spotted Jiang Cheng in the disciple training grounds on that first night. "Right."

"Anyway." Jin Zixuan flicks his sleeves distractedly. "We're going through here." He leads Jiang Cheng to a gilded set of double doors, and pushes them open to reveal a small courtyard lined with gold and white tiles. Two clear blue springs bubble up to form two pools, one steaming hot. Several golden benches on the periphery of the courtyard hold baskets with soaps, brushes, creams, and hooks to hang one's robes.

“What do you think?” Jin Zixuan asks, and Jiang Cheng can hear the smirk in his voice, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him. He’s trying really, really hard not to stare. At least, not to stare with his mouth open. 

"It’s beautiful," he manages, because it is, it's just so much. "These are… your own private baths?"

"That's right," says Jin Zixuan proudly. "I dismissed my attendants, but I can call them back if you need them to assist you."

Jiang Cheng blanches. So Jin Zixuan was serious about that. "Er. That’s all right."

Jin Zixuan glides forward and rests his hand on Jiang Cheng's elbow. "The springs will drown us out," he murmurs. "I will update you on what I have been considering with regards to our plan."

“Oh.” Jiang Cheng nods. Once again, Jin Zixuan has surprised him with his thoughtfulness. “So, I wrote to—”

Jin Zixuan shakes his head and presses a finger to his lips, casting a glance to the door. “Let’s undress first.”

Jiang Cheng freezes. “What?”

Jin Zixuan gives him a funny look. “To get in the bath.” He moves over to one of the benches and begins to remove his boots.

It isn’t like Jiang Cheng has never done this before. After a long day of training, he often goes swimming in the waters around Lotus Pier with Wei Wuxian, and he visited the cold springs in Gusu with his family when he was young, but this—watching Jin Zixuan strip off his outer robes, fumbling a little with his belt like he isn’t used to removing it on his own—this is different. For one thing, thinks Jiang Cheng as he moves slowly towards a bench as far away from Jin Zixuan as possible, he’s never bathed with someone he’s engaged to. Not that he’s actually engaged to Jin Zixuan yet. But still. Trying not to think too hard about it, he begins to strip his outer robes off.

“Jiang Wanyin.” He glances up and finds that Jin Zixuan has divested himself of all his clothing and lowered himself into the steaming hot pool. “Once you are changed, would you mind bringing over that basket next to you?”

“Mm.” Jiang Cheng is only in his thin inner robes now, but when he goes to slide them off, he hesitates. Why are you embarrassed? scoffs a tiny voice in the back of his head. Jin Zixuan isn’t. Don’t go making this weird.

Right. Jiang Cheng slips off his robe and hangs it up before scooping up the basket and walking fast over to the bath, focusing very hard on looking anywhere but Jin Zixuan. He drops the basket at the side of the bath and slides in immediately, clenching his teeth against the sudden searing heat of the water.

“ Fuck, it’s hot.”

Jin Zixuan nods. His hair is damp already from the steam, curling in small strands around his face. “Good for sore muscles.”

“I guess so.” Jiang Cheng shifts, uncomfortably. He’s going to be bright red all over when he gets out. Well, that means the flush on his face can’t be blamed on anything but the temperature of the water. “We don’t do this sort of thing in Yunmeng.”

Jin Zixuan lifts an eyebrow. “What sort of thing?” He pauses. “Bathe?”

Jiang Cheng would be outraged if he didn’t see the tiny smile tugging at Jin Zixuan’s mouth. Instead of snapping, he just huffs and turns away, hoping the steam hides his own smile. “Boil ourselves alive.”

Jin Zixuan laughs. It’s such a foreign and lovely sound that Jiang Cheng jerks around to see it with his own eyes and confirm that, yes, it emerged from Jin Zixuan’s mouth. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s fine,” says Jiang Cheng, and he realizes he means it—he’s beginning to relax into the heat, letting it soak into his body which was admittedly tense from yesterday’s five hours of waiting and then additional three hours of banquet torture. Another thing that is fine is the way that Jin Zixuan’s smile has not yet left his face. Why doesn’t Mianmian tell him to smile more often? Jiang Cheng wonders. It makes him look like a different person. His cheeks have lost their sunken austerity, and his eyes have lit up. He looks younger, less severely handsome and more like someone who is pleasant to be around. 

“High praise from Jiang Wanyin,” says Jin Zixuan, almost coyly. “More than you have ever said to me during one of our sparring practices.”

Now Jiang Cheng can feel the blood rising to his cheeks for real. “You—!”

Jin Zixuan laughs again, tilting his head back, and again it catches Jiang Cheng by surprise. His laugh is a lilting thing that skips over the water between them. His throat is pale and exposed. “I suppose triumphing over you is praise in and of itself, considering it has been so difficult for me to do.”

This is an extraordinarily humble thing for the prideful Jin Zixuan to say. Jiang Cheng blinks in surprise, disoriented. “That’s true,” he says automatically. He doesn’t mean it as anything other than sincere, but Jin Zixuan rolls his eyes and starts moving closer. “Um. What—” Jiang Cheng’s throat is suddenly dry. He swallows and says, “What are you doing right now?”

Jin Zixuan gestures behind Jiang Cheng. He is close enough to reach out and touch, close enough for Jiang Cheng to see the moisture beading on his collarbones. “The basket.”

“Oh.” Jiang Cheng shuffles out of the way quickly so that Jin Zixuan can reach over and slide out a small vial from the basket he’d carried over. “Right.”

Jin Zixuan shakes the vial up and down for a moment, and then he unscrews it and dumps a good amount of the contents into the water. The sharp scent of peonies fills Jiang Cheng’s nose, and almost immediately, a fine white mist begins to pour off of the water’s surface. Within a few seconds, Jiang Cheng can barely see his hand in front of his face.

“What’s happening?” he says aloud, trying not to panic. 

“Relax.” Jin Zixuan’s voice is right next to his ear, and Jiang Cheng nearly leaps out of his skin. “I added a fragrant water-based incense so that nobody watching us will be able to read our lips.”

Jiang Cheng’s throat is dry again. Jin Zixuan’s lips are practically touching his skin. He can feel the warm puff of his breath on his neck. “Good idea.”

“Now about Mianmian,” says Jin Zixuan, and Jiang Cheng mentally shakes himself. This is about Mianmian. Focus. “I reached out to one of the junior cultivators that I trust. She’s good friends with Mianmian, and she said that she can pass a note through one of the maids to reach her.” His voice darkens. “They have Mianmian serving Wen Chao all his meals. She still sleeps in the senior disciples’ dormitories, but she isn’t permitted to leave the grounds, or walk unaccompanied by a Wen guard.”

“Those assholes,” Jiang Cheng growls, and he feels Jin Zixuan’s sharp exhalation of agreement. It makes something inside him shiver a little. “What about the night hunt?”

Jin Zixuan hums a little. “I haven’t been able to learn anything, but there’s no way my father will keep it a secret until the last minute. If I had to guess, I would say that it would be in about a week from now. The Wens aren’t staying much longer, apparently.”

“As soon as we know where and when it will be, Wei Wuxian and I can start looking into the right kind of talisman needed to cause a distraction,” Jiang Cheng says. This had been Wei Wuxian’s idea, of course—he had woken Jiang Cheng up in the middle of the night to whisper excitedly about runes and reverse spirit repellent and a whole lot of other nonsense that Jiang Cheng had only been able to stop him rambling about with multiple pillow smacks to the face. But it’s a good idea—distract Wen Chao by discreetly placing a talisman on him to summon an inordinate amount of spirits. When he’s busy dealing with them, Mianmian will sneak off. “And you can start looking into paths that will be right for her escape.”

“What about Yunmeng Jiang?” Jin Zixuan asks. “Are you going to confirm that—” he hesitates, “they’ll—you’ll really take Mianmian in?”

Jiang Cheng hesitates too. He's had time to think about it, and though he can’t imagine his father will object, his mother… despite the sympathy she’d have for Mianmian’s position, she still wouldn’t like it. But he has another idea. “Your mother was in the Yu clan, wasn’t she? Along with my mother, before they married.”

“Yes…”

“So I think it might be better to reach out to them. That way, there won’t be any messy business with lies or with some disciple in a major sect accidentally spilling the truth about where Wen Chao’s supposed-to-be mistress is hiding.” The Yu clan is known for its fierce women cultivators. Even though it is a smaller outlying sect, Jiang Cheng feels confident that Mianmian will be accepted. “I can try to make those arrangements.”

“Good.” Jin Zixuan exhales again, more forcefully, and Jiang Cheng cannot suppress the shiver that crawls down his spine. Thankfully, Jin Zixuan doesn’t notice, or at least he pretends not to. “Then what we have to do now is wait and gather information.”

Jiang Cheng really doesn’t want to wait. That kind of thing is not his style. Maybe Wei Wuxian wouldn’t mind it, but then again, he’s also not great at being patient. “There’s really nothing else we can do?”

“Short of declaring war on the Wen clan?” Jin Zixuan snorts. “Not really. Just try not to antagonize them.”

“Yeah.” Jiang Cheng knows that this is probably a dig at Wei Wuxian, but he can’t help but think of his own short temper. “Easier said than done. Especially when I’m sure they’ll all be spoiling for a fight.”

“Right, well,” Jin Zixuan draws back a little, and Jiang Cheng realizes that the mist is starting to dissipate, because he can actually see him now. “Just remember that their little fights are irrelevant. Because we aren’t letting them walk away with Mianmian like she’s some sort of prize.”

Jiang Cheng’s fists clench under the water. “Exactly.”

Jin Zixuan nods once, and then he reaches up and slides a larger bottle out of the basket. “Now,” he says seriously, “since that’s all worked out, I have a task for you.” He offers the bottle to Jiang Cheng. “Wash my hair.” He coughs. “Um. Please.”

Jiang Cheng stares at the bottle in disbelief. The swift change in the conversation is so abrupt he wonders for a moment if he imagined the entire interaction. “You’re joking, right?” 

Jin Zixuan at least has the good grace to blush a little. “I sent my attendants away, so I can’t—” he makes a small gesture towards the elaborate topknot of hair piled on his head. 

“You can’t wash your own hair?” Jiang Cheng remembers the first spar, the I’m not wearing the right robes! “What do they teach you in Lanling Jin?” he asks, amazed.

Jin Zixuan lets out a little harrumph as he plunks the bottle down and turns half away from Jiang Cheng to sink into the water up to his chin. He’s pouting, Jiang Cheng realizes. It is both horrifying and slightly hilarious. “They teach us plenty,” he says sulkily. “I know all the important cultivation techniques of the major sects, and I can write calligraphy, and I can also recite the important historical lineages—”

Jiang Cheng sighs and reaches for the bottle. “Shut up and come here,” he says, a little more roughly than he means to. “Look, I’ll—I can do your hair if you do mine.” He can feel the heat in his cheeks again, and there’s no mist to hide him when Jin Zixuan looks hopefully over his shoulder. His hair is floating around him in a dark, inky halo, and the back of his neck is flushed red.

“Really?”

Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue and looks away. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Jin Zixuan shuffles back towards him, but Jiang Cheng halts him with a hand on his shoulder. “That’s close enough. Tip your head back.”

Jin Zixuan obeys without another word, eyes closed, and Jiang Cheng begins to remove the jeweled pins in his hair one by one. It’s almost satisfying to watch Jin Zixuan’s perfect hairdo come cascading down. He sets the pins next to the lip of the bath—they are probably supposed to go in a velvet-lined box or something, but Jiang Cheng can’t be bothered. 

“Okay, all the ornaments are out.” 

Jin Zixuan makes a noise of assent and tips his head even further back to let the water soak up to his hairline. A lock of his hair brushes against Jiang Cheng’s arm, and he swallows hard. The sudden and unwelcome thought that this might become a regular duty when they are married— if they are married—pops into his head. He immediately banishes it from his brain. Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to think about marrying Jin Zixuan right now. He doesn’t want to think about how both of them are naked under the water, and how Jin Zixuan makes a little sound of pleasure as the hot water touches his scalp, and they are very, very close to each other. Stop it, Jiang Cheng. Stop thinking.

To distract himself, Jiang Cheng unscrews the lid of the bottle and pours some of the contents into his hands. It smells fragrant and expensive. Of course the Jin probably spend a fortune on hair products. Jiang Cheng eyes Jin Zixuan’s silky black hair swirling around him in the water. Jin Zixuan alone probably spends more than most minor sects’ yearly budgets on hair products.

Jin Zixuan opens his eyes and peers up at Jiang Cheng. His upper lip is glistening with moisture. “Should I… move?”

“You’re fine,” says Jiang Cheng quickly, and he reaches for a clump of hair, lathering the cream into it. To his relief, Jin Zixuan closes his eyes and sinks further down into the water. 

This isn’t so bad, really. The rushing sound of the springs, the distant rustle of the trees, the steam curling up around him, and Jin Zixuan’s thick, shiny hair smoothing out between Jiang Cheng’s fingers. Jiang Cheng could almost lose himself in it. It isn’t all that different from practicing sword forms by himself—he has to be careful, focused on his hands, hyper-aware of his body and its relation to the space around him, and he can almost forget about everything else.

Almost.

“Can you—” Jin Zixuan clears his throat. His eyes stay closed, but Jiang Cheng can see the way his shoulders tense up. “Ah. I hope this isn’t… well. I have been wondering… would you mind telling me a little bit more about your sister?”

“Oh.” Jiang Cheng’s hands go still, tangled in Jin Zixuan’s hair. “Like what?”

“Er. Anything.”

“Well, Yanli’s a good cook.” Jiang Cheng resumes his work, slightly more cautious now. “And she’s very gentle. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her raise her voice at me or Wei Wuxian—though we’ve definitely done things to deserve it.” Jin Zixuan hasn’t said anything, but a small wrinkle pushing down between his eyebrows tells Jiang Cheng that he is listening intently. “Um. She likes dogs. And flowers. She’s not afraid to get her hands dirty helping out with the lotus bulb planting.” He is about to continue, but then Jiang Cheng realizes that, in his washing, he has reached Jin Zixuan’s scalp. Should he stop? Jin Zixuan still hasn’t said anything so Jiang Cheng plunges ahead, lathering up his hands and slowly massaging the soap into his hairline.

“Mm.” The little wrinkle in Jin Zixuan’s forehead smooths out, and he tips his head further back into Jiang Cheng’s hands. “Keep going.”

With his description or with the wash? “Um, Yanli isn’t afraid of the dark, or of blood. She doesn’t like worms, but she’ll still rescue them after it rains. Her singing voice is pretty good, but she doesn’t like to show it off because she’s self-conscious about high notes.” Is he babbling? Jiang Cheng isn’t sure; he’s distracted by the warmth of Jin Zixuan’s head in his hands, and by the soft sounds of pleasure he makes whenever Jiang Cheng’s nails scrape lightly against his skin. “She. Uh. She has an excellent memory. When we were younger, she used to tell us these long stories when we couldn’t fall asleep.”

Jin Zixuan’s eyelids flutter. “Jiang Yanli sounds like a wonderful older sister,” he murmurs, and Jiang Cheng can’t help but feel a rush of pride.

“She is,” he says confidently. “She deserves the world.” He dunks his hands in the water and lets the suds drift away. “Your hair is done. You can rinse it now.”

Jin Zixuan opens his eyes, and Jiang Cheng notices that the wrinkle of concentration is back. “Right. Thank you,” he says, suddenly stiff, and turns to dip his head in the water, washing the last of the soap away, but then he straightens up and spins around to face Jiang Cheng. “Can I ask you something else, Jiang Wanyin?” There is a determined set to his jaw, and his hair is dripping over his shoulder, an inky black stroke across his skin.

Jiang Cheng wants to take a step back, but he fights the urge. “Sure,” he says, wary. 

Jin Zixuan squares his shoulders. “For what reason do the Jiang marry?”

Jiang Cheng blinks. “What?” Did he hear that right? “Why do we—get married?”

Jin Zixuan nods, stubborn, still frowning.

“Um, I don’t know.” Jiang Cheng squints at him. “To make alliances? Why? For what reason do the Jin marry?”

Jin Zixuan takes a deep breath through his nose. “For love,” he says, so idiosyncratically that Jiang Cheng actually feels the urge to laugh. 

“That can’t be the only reason.”

Jin Zixuan’s nostrils flare. “It is the main reason.”

Jiang Cheng thinks about the way Madame Jin looks at Jin Guangshan—like he is a particularly expensive bracelet that she wants to keep close to her. About the way Jin Guangshan hardly ever looks at Madame Jin. “Do your parents agree?” he says snarkily, before he can think better of it. 

Jin Zixuan reels back. A flash of pain on his face, so brief that maybe Jiang Cheng imagined it, is replaced by a darker look of anger. “I never said it wasn’t idealistic,” he snarls. “But it is better to follow your heart than it is to—to be cold and political about choosing who to spend your life with.”

Jiang Cheng feels a flash of rage stirring to life inside him. “Is that what you think of the Jiang?” he snaps. “We’re calculating and heartless?” 

“If you aren’t, then tell me why Jiang Yanli wants to marry me, ” Jin Zixuan shoots back. “For my personality? Tell me it isn’t a good look for the Jiang sect to have such illustrious ties with the Jin.”

Jiang Cheng takes in a shuddering breath. Jin Zixuan should not be bringing his sister into this. “Romantic fairy-tale love is a fantasy,” he says quietly, dangerously. “Are you saying you could not imagine learning to care for my sister? She isn’t loveable enough for you?”

Jin Zixuan’s eyes widen, and for a second, Jiang Cheng thinks he’s going to back off. But then he spits, “It doesn’t matter. I had that choice stolen from me.” His chest is heaving. “You think I want to be engaged to someone I hardly know?”

“Do you think she does?” Jiang Chen’s voice echoes off the tiles. He’s yelling, he realizes belatedly. “You don’t think Yanli deserves better than to be married to a high-and-mighty prick like you? You think she isn’t pushing her own feelings aside for the good of both of our sects?”

Jin Zixuan’s eyes are wide with anger. “I want to spend my life with someone who chooses me,” he spits. “I never asked for a saint to put up with me—”

Jiang Cheng sees red. In half an instant, he’s seized Jin Zixuan’s shoulders and slammed him against the side of the bath, hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs. “Listen to me, you asshole piece of shit,” he hisses. “You would be so lucky for my sister to give you even a second of her time. Sure, marriage is about love. Because there’s no way I would willingly be in the same room as you right now if I didn’t love my A-jie as much as I do. Got it?”

Jin Zixuan is breathing hard. His face is pale with anger, and his stupid vermillion mark is smudged. Jiang Cheng wants to hit him hard across the face, like Wei Wuxian did at the Cloud Recesses. Instead, he grits his teeth and forces himself to release Jin Zixuan’s shoulders and propel himself backwards until he bumps up against the lip of the bath. He needs to walk away before he does something he’ll really regret. 

“Jiang Wanyin,” Jin Zixuan says as Jiang Cheng climbs out of the bath, and there is a strange twinge in his voice. Something like sorrow. Something like hurt.

What right does Jin Zixuan have to feel hurt? Jiang Cheng ignores him and strides over to the bench where he left his robes. He throws them on, ignoring the way they cling to his damp body, and yanks on his boots. “I’ll contact the Yu clan,” he says shortly, and stands up to move towards the stupid fancy doors at the end of the room. He’s not looking at Jin Zixuan. He doesn’t want to see whatever pathetic self-pitying expression is on his face. 

The doors are too heavy to slam behind him. It’s okay. As he storms towards the exit, Jiang Cheng contents himself with knocking against a ridiculous fancy table and hearing the tinkle of one of those perfect little objects crashing onto the floor and shattering into a million pieces.

____________________________________________________________________________

Jiang Cheng actually believed that maybe the previous night’s banquet was the worst dinner he would ever have to suffer through. He now amends that belief—it was likely only the third-worst, because there will probably be a banquet at his own wedding, and also there’s the one he’s sitting through right now.

Wen Chao belches, loudly, in Jiang Cheng’s face, and punctuates his own laugh with a squeeze of Mianmian’s waist. “Loosen up, Young Master Jiang,” he sneers. “You’re not having a good time? What’s the matter, huh?”

Jiang Cheng counts to ten in his head and it does not help. It didn’t help the last fifteen times either. Instead of responding to Wen Chao, he closes his eyes briefly and then scoops up a big mouthful of the dish in front of him, some sort of meat. It tastes like sawdust on his tongue, but he needs something to stop himself from saying what he desperately wishes he could. 

He should have known how horrible this would be when he entered the banquet hall and the first thing he saw was Wen Chao’s greasy smile. It only got worse when Mianmian, dark circles under her eyes, led Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian to the main table and ushered him into a seat between a smug Wen Chao and a silent Jin Zixuan, who steadfastly avoided eye contact. Wei Wuxian is stuck on the other side of the table, listening to Madame Jin complain about something in between sharp reprimands to her son—sit up straighter, A-Xuan, try some of this dish, don’t be rude, careful with your sleeve, you almost dragged it through the soup! 

Wen Chao has his arm looped around Mianmian, only releasing her so she can stand up and retrieve the next dish from the kitchen. Every time he yanks her closer, or slides his hand along her waist, or whispers something in her ear with that horrible smile of his, Jiang Cheng thinks that this endurance test is impossible, he cannot possibly sit here for another instant, he is going to qi deviate at the ripe age of twenty, he is going to kill every cultivator in the room with the only exceptions of Wei Wuxian and Mianmian. And then he takes another breath and glances over at Jin Zixuan, that asshole, and thinks about how it is hard to hate him so much when there are at least two other people at this table who Jiang Cheng despises on an entirely different scale of hatred. And it is hard to hate Jin Zixuan when it is clear that, as bad as this is for Jiang Cheng, it is unequivocally the worst night of Jin Zixuan’s life. 

He is pale and sweating, shoving food around on his plate without eating it, and he’s clumsy, knocking his cup over every time he reaches for something. He looks like he’s about to throw up, Jiang Cheng thinks, until he catches a glimpse of Jin Zixuan’s hand under the table gripping his sword hilt hard enough to bruise—hard enough that his knuckles are purple—and Jiang Cheng realizes that the symptoms he mistook for nausea are maybe also indicative of the amount of pure rage that Jin Zixuan is attempting to suppress.

Jin Guangshan was late to his own banquet, swaggering in only once everyone else was already seated. He sank into his own seat and beamed at the assembly before immediately declaring a toast to the futures of all clans present. Since then, Jiang Cheng is pretty sure he’s been drinking steadily, and he has not looked at anyone at his table aside from clapping Jin Zixuan on the shoulder once. Jiang Cheng had almost forgotten about him, really, too busy drowning in his own misery, until Jin Guangshan rises to his feet once more as Jiang Cheng picks at what he hopes is the last course.

“I have an announcement,” he says loudly, and the room slowly settles into silence. “Since we are hosting representatives from the illustrious Wen and Jiang clans, the Jin must be forgiven for showing off a little! Therefore…” he pauses and offers a smile to nobody in particular, one that would set Jiang Cheng’s teeth on edge if they weren’t already, “…we will be hosting a treat for you all—a grand night hunt, two days from now!” 

Jiang Cheng can feel all his muscles lock up. What. What. He jerks up to look at Wei Wuxian, who is already staring at him with the same horrified expression that must be reflected on his own face. Two days is not enough time to figure out escape routes, call on the Yu clan, invent talismans. Two days is not enough time for anything.

“...hope that you can all represent your sects to the utmost,” Jin Guangshan is saying, but Jiang Cheng can’t really focus over the buzzing in his ears. He glances over at Jin Zixuan, whose face has gone from pale to a sickly shade of gray. Jin Zixuan catches his eye and shakes his head, just once, and Jiang Cheng feels his heart splash into his stomach. That’s it. Their plans are gone, swept away in an instant.

Jin Guangshan claps his hands, startling Jiang Cheng enough to jerk him out of his haze of horror. “Much luck to all who decide to participate!” he says cheerfully, and this must be some sort of signal, because people begin to rise from their seats. Jiang Cheng wills himself to do the same, praying his legs don’t shake. He glances over his shoulder to see Mianmian one last time—she has kept her gaze down during the entire dinner, but now he finds that she is looking desperately at Jin Zixuan as she stands. Wen Chao has temporarily removed his arm from her shoulder to swallow the last of his liquor, and Mianmian only has enough time to nod at Jin Zixuan, catch Jiang Cheng’s eye, and mouth something that looks strangely like window before Wen Chao stands and catches her up again in his embrace.

“See you tomorrow, gorgeous,” Wen Chao half-slurs, hand sliding down to squeeze at her breast, and Jiang Cheng can hear the choked noise that Mianmian makes in response before she peels herself away and disappears into the crowd of cultivators milling towards the exit. Wen Chao snorts, offers a terrible wink to a disgusted Wei Wuxian, and moves off to join a knot of Wen disciples crowded by the door.

Fingers brush against the back of Jiang Cheng’s hand, and he nearly jumps. Biting his tongue, he forces himself to hold still, watching Wen Chao leave. 

“I’ll find you tonight,” says Jin Zixuan into his ear, very very quietly, and then he is gone, following his parents as they head off towards their own chambers, gold fabric swirling in their wake.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t move for another count of ten. Only once he’s sure he won’t punch something does he permit himself to take a breath and raise his head to meet Wei Wuxian’s concerned stare. 

“We need to go,” he says urgently, and Jiang Cheng nods. 

____________________________________________________________________________

They are silent as they march back to their chambers, but as soon as the door closes, Wei Wuxian folds in half, tearing at his hair. “What are we going to do?” he moans as Jiang Cheng scribbles out talismans of privacy to stick over every door and window. “We have to—Jiang Cheng, fuck, I need those talisman papers when you’re done. I just need to think …”

A deathly silence falls over the room as Jiang Cheng slumps on the bed, mind running in helpless little circles. Wei Wuxian paces back and forth before him maybe ten million times, scribbling and crumpling up talismans, before he snaps, “Can you just sit still as you think?” 

Wei Wuxian doesn’t stop or even look up from his pacing, but he does blink hard, scribble something quickly on yet another talisman sticker, scowl at the paper, ball it up, and chuck it over his shoulder as he sticks the ink brush behind his ear. “This isn’t working,” he says under his breath. Jiang Cheng would roll his eyes if he weren’t very busy trying to talk himself out of the Wen Chao assassination attempt he’s been planning since the banquet ended. “We can’t do it in two days. We can target Wen Chao on the night hunt or we can plan Mianmian’s escape from the night hunt, but we can’t do both, especially without a Jin to help us.”

This last part isn’t spoken with any heat, but Jiang Cheng still rears his head. “Sorry my dick of a future husband wasn’t being reasonable enough for you,” he snaps. He knows he shouldn’t be directing his anger at Wei Wuxian, who is maybe the last available ally he has in all of Lanling at the moment, but Jiang Cheng can’t help it; the only thing he really wants to do right now is hit something very hard with his sword. 

He’d explained it all to Wei Wuxian when he got back from the baths—how Jin Zixuan’s plan relied on the grace of the Jiang or the Yu, how the night hunt would be their one chance, how the Jin sect heir had insulted their sister yet again, and thank god Yanli wouldn’t have to marry him, but Jiang Cheng didn’t want to spend any more time with Jin Zixuan than he had to until they were (gag) bowing to each other in their wedding reds. Wei Wuxian had listened to his rant, nodding in the right places and making the appropriate outraged noises, but when Jiang Cheng had finished, Wei Wuxian had crossed his arms and asked cautiously, “So is he going to help with the plan to save Mianmian or not?”

“I don’t know,” Jiang Cheng had said sulkily, and Wei Wuxian had known his brother well enough to not press further at the moment.

Now, Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath and rubs his knuckles into his eyes. There is a black streak of ink across his forehead, and about fifty crumpled talisman stickers lying around on the floor. “Jiang Cheng,” he says, eyes still squeezed closed, “tell me this is insane, okay? But what if we just hired someone to kidnap Mianmian.”

“That’s insane,” Jiang Cheng says, not even bothering to sound horrified. They are both past that, deep into a state closer to shock. “We’ll get caught immediately. Or the kidnapper will actually kill her. Or we’ll start a war. Or all three.”

Wei Wuxian presses his palms to his face and makes a strangled sound of agony. “Let’s just attack him during the night hunt! There’s two of us! Three if Mianmian helps! We can win!”

“You’re so stupid,” Jiang Cheng begins, resigned to an idiotic circular argument, but then there’s a soft rapping sound. The two of them freeze.

Someone heard us, is Jiang Cheng’s first thought, and then, Wen Chao’s bodyguard is going to kill us before we can kill his master. He’s on his feet, Sandu in his hand, before he even makes the conscious decision to rise. A glance at Wei Wuxian confirms that Suibian is ready for bloodshed too. The Twin Prides of Yunmeng won’t go down without a fight.

Another sound, this one more like a muffled grunt. Wei Wuxian whispers, “The window,” gesturing towards the half-open screen at the back of the room, and Jiang Cheng barely has time to remember Mianmian’s mouthed message, window, before a hand heavily adorned with gold rings rises up to clamp down on the windowsill. 

Jiang Cheng moves on instinct. He sees Wei Wuxian raise Suibian out of the corner of his eye, and he throws his shoulder into his side just in time to knock the blade off target. Wei Wuxian’s sword buries itself in the wood of the windowsill as Jin Zixuan’s head comes into view.

A moment of shocked silence rings out through the room. Jin Zixuan’s mouth is open and he’s staring at the sword that nearly cut his hand off, wedged into the windowsill right next to his pinky finger. Wei Wuxian is gawking at the Jin sect heir. Jiang Cheng is trying to process how Mianmian could possibly have known that Jin Zixuan would believe this kind of ingress could possibly be a good idea. 

“What the fuck,” he says finally, and strides over to the window. “What are you doing here.”

Jin Zixuan flinches. From this close, Jiang Cheng can see that he’s balanced precariously on a tree branch—that explains how he reached their window, which is not exactly close to the ground—and he’s wearing an extremely elaborate set of heavy golden robes. And he’s sweating quite a lot. 

“I can explain,” he huffs, “but can you please—I don’t know how long this branch can—”

“Oh, shit.” Jiang Cheng’s hand shoots out and he grasps Jin Zixuan firmly by the elbow as he wobbles in place. “Wei Wuxian, hurry—” 

Wei Wuxian snaps out of his trance and yanks Suibian out of the windowsill, sliding his sword into his sheath as he leaps forward to grab Jin Zixuan’s other elbow. Together, the two of them haul him over the sill and onto solid ground, where his knees give out.

“I never did that before,” Jin Zixuan gasps from the ground. “Mianmian showed me once, but I never—I thought I was going to die.”

“So did we,” Wei Wuxian says helpfully, shooting a pointed look at the new gouge in the windowsill. “Because what kind of non-assassin comes in through the window?”

Jin Zixuan lifts up the hand that had nearly been severed and contemplates it in horror. “You were about to cut off my hand,” he says slowly, and Wei Wuxian scowls. 

“We thought you were Xue Yang or something—”

“What are you wearing?” Jiang Cheng interrupts, and Jin Zixuan lifts his head. His clothes are far more intricate than anything he’s ever worn to a sparring session before—in fact, they are fancier than what he wore to the training ground the first time he’d found Jiang Cheng there. 

“Uh. My banquet robes?” He blinks, owlish, and Jiang Cheng remembers suddenly that the last time he’d addressed Jin Zixuan directly was when he’d screamed at him in his private baths earlier. He quickly clears his throat and crosses his arms. Now that his initial shock is subsiding, he can feel the anger flaring up again. 

“So. Why did you scale a tree in your fancy clothes to get into our rooms?” On second glance, Jiang Cheng recognizes this outfit from the banquet, though he hadn’t exactly been paying attention to fashion during dinner. “Decided that the Jiang are good enough for you after all?”

A familiar indignant look crosses Jin Zixuan’s face. “I came because I care about Mianmian,” he snaps. “And last time I took a few minutes to change into something less auspicious, he,” he jabs an accusatory finger at Wei Wuxian, “made fun of me for it.”

“No I didn’t,” says Wei Wuxian hotly, and then he pauses. “Oh. Wait.” A slow smile works its way across his face. “No, yeah, I definitely did.” 

Jiang Cheng wants to be mad, but when he opens his mouth, he finds he has no words. Jin Zixuan climbed a tree in jangling gold robes that probably cost a fortune, even in Lanling, where everything costs a fortune. “You care that much about what we think of you?” he says aloud in surprise.

Jin Zixuan’s head snaps away from Jiang Cheng, and he gets to his feet, shakily. “We need to discuss the plan,” he huffs, ignoring the question. “I’m here now. Can we just get on with it?”

Jiang Cheng can feel his anger begin to dissipate, dispelled by wonder tinged with amusement. “You’re kind of dumb, aren’t you?”

Jin Zixuan whips around as Wei Wuxian begins to laugh. “You —”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “We thought you were being stuck-up,” he says, amazed, “but you just care a lot about other people's impressions of you.” It even makes sense—in Carp Tower, where Jin Zixuan was born and raised, appearances are everything.

Jin Zixuan’s cheeks are a bright, angry red. “Could you stop insulting me for one moment?” he hisses. “It’s been such a long day —”

“I’m not insulting you!” Jiang Cheng shakes his head and tries to fight down an inopportune smile. “It’s cute, is all I’m saying. That you care so much you’d go to these lengths for our sake, when you don’t even like us.” 

“Who said—” Jin Zixuan bites off his own words and takes a step back in surprise. “It’s… what? ”

Jiang Cheng blinks at him. “What?” He’s distracted, trying to replay all the recent encounters he’s had with Jin Zixuan where he came off as rude or standoffish or just straight-up asshole-y. Was he just being awkward? Jin Zixuan cared about Mianmian, that much was clear from all the effort he’d been willing to put in for her sake. Maybe, in the baths, he hadn’t been trying to insult Yanli. Maybe his words had just come out wrong, which was something Jiang Cheng could definitely understand, since it often seemed like every time he opened his mouth he found himself snapping at someone—

“It’s…” Jin Zixuan is blinking a lot, avoiding Jiang Cheng’s eyes. His throat bobs as he swallows. “Did you say cute?”

Jiang Cheng frowns. “Did I?”

“You did,” Wei Wuxian says cheerfully. “Not the word I would use. ‘Dumb’ was a good one, but not colorful enough for my tastes. I can think of some better ways to phrase it.”

“Shut up.” Jiang Cheng moves to scoop up some of Wei Wuxian’s discarded failed talismans. “Look. Jin Zixuan. You’re here about the night hunt announcement, aren’t you?”

Jin Zixuan nods. He still isn’t looking at Jiang Cheng. “It was… unexpected.”

“That’s for sure,” says Wei Wuxian snidely. “Did you rat us out to your daddy or something? Why did he make this decision out of nowhere?”

To Jiang Cheng’s relief, Jin Zixuan doesn’t rise to the bait. “It wasn’t out of nowhere.” He looks down at his hands—they are covered in scratches, Jiang Cheng notes. Probably from climbing the fucking tree outside their window. “I think he had it all planned ahead of time, but the Wens convinced him to move it up to two days from now.”

“But why?” Jiang Cheng glances down at the paper in his hands to try to parse out Wei Wuxian’s scribbles, but he gives up and tosses it back on the floor. “What could they possibly gain from it, if they didn’t know what we were planning?”

“If they knew what we were planning, we’d be in a lot bigger trouble.” Jin Zixuan sighs. “The only thing I can think of is that they’re planning to leave even sooner than we expected.”

Jiang Cheng draws in a short breath. This is incredible rudeness—showing up unannounced as a delegation, and barely staying long enough to drink their host’s liquor and kidnap one of his top disciples before absconding back to their own kingdom—but it’s intentional. Wen Chao is spitting in the face of convention, either for laziness’s sake or to prove something about how the Wen can kick the Jin around. And it’s working, he realizes with horror. Because Jin Guangshan isn’t the type of man to go to war over etiquette the way Lan Qiren would. He doesn’t care about Mianmian; to him, she’s nothing but goods, exchanged for the sake of a fragile, unsteady peace that benefits him alone. 

The one being targeted here is Jin Zixuan, Jiang Cheng realizes suddenly. Mianmian fights at his side. And he is the one who will be expected to measure up to Wen Chao during the night hunt. 

“They have something planned,” he says quietly, and Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian turn to look at him. “For the night hunt. They’re going to target you, Jin Zixuan.”

Jin Zixuan breathes out through his nose. “I know,” he says softly. “That is why it is all the more important that we help Mianmian as much as possible beforehand.”

Wei Wuxian nods, eyes shining with determination. “I could make a talisman to distract Wen Chao,” he says with a new edge of certainty to his voice, ignoring the disbelieving look that Jiang Cheng casts towards the crumpled papers on the ground. “As long as you let me see the grounds where the night hunt will be held. And as long as,” he pauses, “as long as I’m not… doing other things.”

“Like what?” Jiang Cheng prompts him, suspicious.

“Um, banquets. And politics, and long lectures.”

Oh. That… won’t be a good look for the Jiang, to say the least. Nonetheless, Jiang Cheng blinks and swivels to face Jin Zixuan. “Is that going to be a problem?” he demands, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s little noise of surprise. “If he shuts himself up in this room for the next two days?”

Jin Zixuan cups his chin in thought. “I already told my mother you had a sensitive stomach from eating too much Yunmeng spice,” he says contemplatively, and Jiang Cheng snorts. “Maybe I could let it slip to some servants that something else has disagreed with you…”

Wei Wuxian wrinkles up his nose for a moment, but then he smiles. “I could make myself throw up on Wen Chao tomorrow,” he suggests. “For deceptive purposes.”

“No,” say Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan in unison. 

“What’s the point of lying if you can’t have fun with it?”

Jiang Cheng clears his throat. “About the Yu clan,” he says loudly, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s fake pout. “I wrote to the Meishan Yu, but it’s too soon to have received a response.” He sighs. “We’ll just have to hope that the Jiang’s familial ties are strong enough to convince them.”

Jin Zixuan worries his lower lip between his teeth. “I don’t like that we can’t rely on your family,” he says. Jiang Cheng scowls for a moment, ready to argue, before Jin Zixuan glances at him and quickly adds, “I just mean I would rather have more certainty in a…delicate matter like this.”

“Me too,” Jiang Cheng agrees, his anger flickering out as he notices the nervous way Jin Zixuan is twisting his rings back and forth on his fingers. Awkward, he reminds himself. “But there’s nothing else we can do.”

“True.” Jin Zixuan begins to pace. “As for the location of the night hunt—there’s a few possible spots, but I can figure out which my father has in mind by tomorrow. I can’t take you there,” he nods at Wei Wuxian, “but I can find someone to leave you directions. You’ll have to be careful, though.”

Wei Wuxian scoffs. “Sorry we can’t all be as subtle as you.” He gives Jin Zixuan’s ostentatious robes a once-over. “But I’ll try my best.”

Jin Zixuan sniffs, offended, but Jiang Cheng just rolls his eyes. “That’s good. Then the main thing we need to worry about is how we can get Mianmian away from Wen Chao once he’s distracted during the hunt.” This is the hardest part, the thing that felt impossible before they had the Jin sect heir standing before them in their chambers, subtly trying to adjust his robes into some semblance of less-wrinkled grandeur. “They don’t let her carry her sword, do they?”

Jin Zixuan pauses in his fumbling, and his jaw clenches. “No,” he spits. “They took it from her.”

“So we’ll have to get it back before the night hunt.” Wei Wuxian taps his nose. “Where are they keeping it?”

“I don’t know.” Jin Zixuan is fiddling with his rings again. “For all I know, Wen Zhuliu sleeps with it under his pillow. It’s not in the armory,” he adds when Wei Wuxian throws him a look of disbelief. “I checked.”

“Wen Chao is probably hiding it as a trophy somewhere,” Jiang Cheng mutters. Jin Zixuan blinks and then, unexpectedly, reaches over to grab Jiang Cheng’s arm.

“What did you just say?”

His face is very close. Jin Zixuan’s eyes had been shut most of the time when they were in the bath, but now Jiang Cheng can see that his irises have little golden flecks in them. He wants to be annoyed by that, because that couldn’t be any more Jin, but he’s sort of entranced.

“Um. Maybe he’s keeping her sword as a trophy?”

Jin Zixuan releases him and snaps his fingers. “That’s it. It’s in the Carp Tower treasury vault.”

“How do you know that?” Wei Wuxian is looking at him with no small measure of disbelief. Jin Zixuan shakes his head.

“It makes sense. That nice dagger you brought, it didn’t end up in the armory—Father made sure it was in the treasury, because it represents the exchange between our sects. Mianmian’s sword belongs to Jin, because she is a Jin cultivator, and she—” he stops, a look of disgust pinching his features, “—well, Wen Chao probably thinks that her body belongs to Qishan Wen now. So leaving her sword behind is like a… gift.”

Jiang Cheng hates the disgusting logic of it, but he nods slowly. “So we need to get it out of there before the night hunt. How can we do that?”

“If we say we need to retrieve something else from the treasury, would we be allowed in?” Wei Wuxian asks hopefully.

 “I don’t think so.” Jin Zixuan frowns. “I wouldn’t even be allowed in there on my own unless my father dispatched me to collect something.”

“We might—” Jiang Cheng arrests himself mid-sentence to whip around and stare at Jin Zixuan. “Hold on. What? ”

Jin Zixuan stares back in surprise. “What?”

“What did you call our lotus dagger?”

Jin Zixuan frowns. Forehead wrinkles again. “What are you talking about?”

Jiang Cheng huffs in impatience. “You were talking about how you know Mianmian’s sword is in the armory because our dagger is there too.” He pauses. “You called it a nice dagger.”

Jin Zixuan is still staring at him with a mixture of trepidation and mild confusion. “Yeah?”

Jiang Cheng can feel the flames of annoyance flickering in his stomach. “So,” he spits, “that’s not what you said when we presented it to you. You said that Lanling Jin has many such objects.” 

Jin Zixuan is standing too close for Jiang Cheng to miss his hesitation before he says, “Well, it’s true.” He tries to toss it off carelessly, but Jiang Cheng has seen him on his back in the dirt, has seen him with Sandu at his throat, has seen him naked in his baths, and as unfortunate as it is, he realizes suddenly that he can read Jin Zixuan as easily as a book. And there’s something he’s not telling them. 

Before Wei Wuxian can say “peacock,” Jiang Cheng has fisted his hands in the front of Jin Zixuan’s robes and slammed him back against the wall. Jin Zixuan’s eyes bulge. 

“You insulted me,” Jiang Cheng hisses. “In front of your father and all the Jin disciples. You said that our dagger wasn’t good enough as a gift. Why?”

Jin Zixuan coughs and clutches at Jiang Cheng’s wrists. His face is turning red. Wei Wuxian’s hand is suddenly on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. 

“You’re choking him,” he mutters. 

Jiang Cheng clenches his teeth and forces himself to draw back a little. “Answer me,” he snaps.

Jin Zixuan sucks in a gaspy breath. “My father…” He coughs again.

“Your father what.”

“He told me to.” Jin Zixuan meets his gaze, desperate. “He said that I should… act like whatever you offer us is inferior… to put you in your place.” Jiang Cheng hisses in a breath, but Jin Zixuan isn’t done. “It’s because of the engagement… my father said he wants the wedding to be a big deal… he wants the Jiang to offer something extravagant as a wedding gift. So it seems like…” he winces and shuts his eyes, “...like the Jin are doing the Jiang a favor… by permitting me to marry Jiang Yanli.”

Jiang Cheng closes his eyes too. He can feel how fast his heart is beating, can hear the blood pounding in his ears. “What.”

“I told you!” Jin Zixuan bursts out. “Jiang Wanyin, I told you—I don’t want this! I never wanted my marriage to be about duty—”

Jiang Cheng drags Jin Zixuan forward and slams him back hard enough to shut him up. “So this is why you hate a-jie?” he hisses. “Because Jin Guangshan told you to?” Jin Zixuan’s eyes are screwed shut. His hair, mussed from the climb, is falling in his face. He looks pathetic, Jiang Cheng thinks. “Why didn’t you tell us this before? Huh? Didn't you think it would be useful for us to know that your father has been against us from the beginning?”

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian grabs his arm. “He’s telling us now!” Jiang Cheng glares murderously at him, but Wei Wuxian stares back, not releasing his arm. “If he’d told us before, do you think we would have helped him? And it’s not like we thought Jin Guangshan was exactly our best friend even before we arrived here. Jin Zixuan’s trying to be honest with us. It’s not his fault who his parents are!”

This last part is enough to make Jiang Cheng loosen his grip in the front of Jin Zixuan’s robes. Wei Wuxian’s chest is rising and falling, and he tears his gaze away. Jiang Cheng swallows hard, thinking about all his mother’s cutting remarks about who Jiang Fengmian loves more and the rumors around Wei Wuxian’s true father. He glances back at Jin Zixuan and finds him looking helplessly at Jiang Cheng, his hands still loosely holding his wrists like he’s pleading for mercy. Pathetic, Jiang Cheng thinks again, but there’s not as much bite to it this time.

“Fine,” he says aloud, and releases Jin Zixuan. “So your father is a manipulative asshole. Just like everyone else in Lanling Jin. What else?”

Jin Zixuan doesn’t even get huffy over that. He actually sighs a little in relief as he brushes off the front of his expensive robes, which are probably irrevocably wrinkled. “For the record,” he says quietly, “I don’t hate Jiang Yanli. She’s fine.”

“She’s the best person to ever exist, you ass,” snaps Jiang Cheng, but he forces himself to take a deep and slow breath through his nose and remind himself that he’s arguing over something irrelevant to the matter at hand. “Okay. Anything else you need to share with us?”

Jin Zixuan looks at him for a moment and then shakes his head. “If it’s any consolation,” he offers, “my mother is very impressed with you. From what Madame Jiang has said to her, she expected you to start smashing vases as soon as you arrived.”

Jiang Cheng can feel the unwilling heat jump to his cheeks. “I’m not a complete barbarian,” he snaps. “I represent the Jiang sect. I’m not some brat throwing a temper tantrum.”

Jin Zixuan opens his eyes a little too wide, and Jiang Cheng thinks with sudden embarrassment about the object he smashed outside the baths earlier. Well, it was an accident. Mostly. “I—”

Wei Wuxian interrupts him, thankfully. “We can talk about the Jin family’s impressions of us later.” He strikes his fist into his palm. “We need Mianmian’s sword, and we know that important gifts are brought to the treasury, so what if—ah! I have a brilliant idea.” He beams at the two of them. “You’re lucky I’m here! Actually, Mianmian’s lucky I’m here, or else the two of you would still be pressed up against the wall—”

“Can you spit it out?” snaps Jiang Cheng, and Wei Wuxian shoots him a wounded look.

“You don’t appreciate my genius.” He claps his hands and his smile springs back into place. “Jin Guangshan is the one who grants permission into the treasury. Jin Guangshan wants the Jiang to bring a pricey, flashy gift to the wedding for political reasons. So what if Jin Zixuan’s stupid bluffing actually worked?” He grins. “Jiang Cheng got scared and insecure, so he needs to take a look inside the Jin treasury at the daggers that are supposedly as good as ours. He needs inspiration for a wedding gift, after all! How can your father say no?”

Jin Zixuan is nodding. “That is a good idea,” he says carefully. “My father loves to show off.”

Jiang Cheng scowls. “I’m not insecure.”

Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue. “Jiang Cheng, it’s for the sake of the plan.”

“Whatever.” Jiang Cheng glances at Jin Zixuan. “Do you think you can ask your father if you can give me a tour of the treasury tomorrow?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Perfect!” Wei Wuxian claps the two of them on the shoulder at the same time, ignoring the way Jin Zixuan eyes the embroidery puckering under his touch. “So I’m going to do all the hard work here while you go play with shiny things.”

Jiang Cheng shrugs his hand off in annoyance. “You’d rather sit through another banquet with Wen Chao?”

Wei Wuxian shudders. “I’d rather never have to look at him ever again for the rest of my life.”

“If the plan works,” says Jin Zixuan grimly, “then at least Mianmian won’t have to.” A momentary silence descends on the three of them as they remember the stakes of this mission. Jiang Cheng wonders, idly, if Mianmian would actually commit suicide if she was forced to be Wen Chao’s concubine, or if she would shove down all her will, determination, and pride in order to live under the Wen clan’s thumb.

Wei Wuxian interrupts this dark train of thoughts by moving over to the window and throwing the screen open all the way. “Jin Zixuan,” he says cheerfully, “you’re leaving the way you came in, aren’t you?”

Jin Zixuan looks like he’d rather not. “Well, I don’t want to use any spiritual energy,” he begins, and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes and grabs his arm.

“Come here, idiot.” He drags Jin Zixuan over to the wardrobe and yanks a simple purple robe out of a drawer. “Just put this on and walk out of here without your vermillion mark.”

Jin Zixuan sputters as the robe hits him in the chest. “I can’t—are these your clothes?”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes again, harder. “No, they’re Lan Qiren’s. Yes, they’re mine. What’s the problem?”

“I can’t go back to my room in these.” Jin Zixuan sounds scandalized. “What will I tell the guards?”

Jiang Cheng shrugs. “You can’t change before you go in? Just throw your golden outer robe on right before you enter.” When Jin Zixuan hesitates again, Jiang Cheng crosses his arms. “Look. It’ll be easier to sneak around if nobody thinks you’re the Jin Sect heir, right? So what’s the issue?”

Jin Zixuan frowns at the fabric in his hands. “What if we’re not the same size?” he says doubtfully.

Wei Wuxian guffaws. “Get naked, peacock, and we’ll find out!” 

After only a bare minimum of sputtering and fumbling, they discover that—to Wei Wuxian’s delight—the robes fit perfectly. Jin Zixuan departs through the front door, nose once again in the air, his golden banquet robes tucked under his arm in an inauspicious basket. Jiang Cheng watches him go and thinks about how Mianmian’s future hinges upon tomorrow and whether or not they can accomplish their absurd, near-impossible plan. Two days for so much to happen.

“I guess it’s a nice view from the back, at least,” Wei Wuxian says airily, and Jiang Cheng startles. “He looks better in purple.”

“What are you babbling about?” 

Wei Wuxian nudges his chin at Jin Zixuan’s retreating figure. “Your fiance. Hey, are they going to give you a vermillion mark after you’re married and living in Carp Tower? Or do we have the pleasure of letting that peacock strut all over Lotus Pier and share your wardrobe as well as your bed?”

Jiang Cheng knows Wei Wuxian is baiting him, but he can’t stop the heat from rushing to his face. “Wei Wuxian!”

Wei Wuxian is struggling to suppress his laughter. “Jiang Cheng! Blushing like a maiden! Do you need your big brother to teach you about the dirty secrets to true marital bliss?”

It’s a good thing Jiang Cheng put those silencing talismans in place, because otherwise his roar of rage—and Wei Wuxian’s fit of laughter, and their ensuing pillow fight—would wake the whole compound.

Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng receives the note the next morning, courtesy of a servant at their door who bows deeply and presses it into his hand with a strange knowing look.

"For Young Master Jiang," she says a little too politely. "Young Master Jin has spoken highly of you, and he was eager to see this letter delivered as soon as possible." She bows again, quickly, and scurries away down the path. Jiang Cheng frowns after her for a moment before breaking the wax seal and scanning the contents.

Jin Zixuan's calligraphy is excellent, of course. He addresses Esteemed Yunmeng Sect Heir Jiang Wanyin, and politely requests that he be permitted to have the honor of providing said sect heir with a tour of the noble Lanling Jin treasury vaults before their afternoon meal, in thanks for the lovely gift that the Jiang sect had provided upon the occasion of their arrival and in recognition of the felicitous matrimonial union that would soon join the two sects. 

"He wrote the character for 'felicitous' wrong," says Wei Wuxian, reading over Jiang Cheng's shoulder.

"No he didn't." Jiang Cheng scowls at his brother, who offers him a cheeky smile.

"Jiang Cheng, you're so quick to leap to his defense…"

"You're so quick to criticize," mutters Jiang Cheng, and he tries to ignore the wide-eyed look that Wei Wuxian shoots his way. "I should get going now so we have more time to search."

Wei Wuxian shrugs, but as Jiang Cheng scoops up Sandu from their table, he says, "When are you going to tell Jin Zixuan?"

Jiang Cheng pauses, a hand on the door. "What?"

"About the engagement. About switching yourself in for shijie."

Jiang Cheng swallows hard. "After this whole mess is over," he says firmly. "It would just cause more problems right now."

"Would it?" Wei Wuxian quirks an eyebrow at him. "I can think of at least two issues that it would solve. "

Jiang Cheng clenches his jaw in frustration. He ’ s not going to give Wei Wuxian the satisfaction of asking him to explain. "I'll have some food sent back for you after the meal," he says stiffly, "so don't slack off while I'm gone." With a whirl of his robes, he strides out of the room.

When Jiang Cheng enters, ushered in by the guards, he finds Jin Zixuan pacing back and forth in the main living space of his quarters. He's dressed in simpler clothes than he was last night—though "simple" by Jin standards is still far from the Jiang sect's plain everyday robes. When he sees Jiang Cheng, he halts immediately and bows before drawing himself up very straight, like a Lan.

"Jiang Wanyin," he says aloud. "You are very punctual. Thank you for coming."

Jiang Cheng returns the bow, aware of the guards' eyes on him. "Thank you for inviting me. I look forward to seeing the many treasures of the Jin clan." 

"Let us go, then." Jin Zixuan dips his head and gestures towards the door. To Jiang Cheng’s relief, the guards follow them only as far as the exit, where they take up the same post as before. 

As they make their way down the path towards the main compound house, Jiang Cheng draws closer to Jin Zixuan, noticing the way that passing cultivators' eyes linger on the two of them together. He wants to say something—to ask what Jin Guangshan's reaction was when Jin Zixuan asked permission to enter the treasury, whether Jin Zixuan's sources have told Mianmian about their plan yet, what the servant meant earlier when she said that Jin Zixuan had spoken highly of him , but he keeps his mouth shut and his head high. They are two young sect heirs out for a walk. There is nothing unusual about what they are doing.

They arrive at the main gate, but instead of climbing the impossibly long series of steps that lead to the ostentatious front entrance, Jin Zixuan leads them both off down a smaller route, shaded with trees and paved with stones that flash ivory and gold under their boots. At the end of the path is an elegant pavilion shading an elaborately-carved building, guarded by (Jiang Cheng counts) eleven sentries. He can’t even bring himself to be surprised; this is Lanling and there are visiting cultivators wandering all over the grounds, so he supposes this makes some modicum of sense. As Jin Zixuan approaches, the sentries straighten to attention before bowing. 

“Young Master Jin!”

“I’m sure my father informed you that we are to be permitted entry,” Jin Zixuan says smoothly, not even pausing as he sweeps past the guards to touch the gold-inlaid doors. Jiang Cheng senses the flare of energy that he pushes into the wards, and then the doors spring open to reveal the veritable treasure trove of the Jin’s most valued objects. 

Jiang Cheng blinks hard, half-blinded by the sunlight playing off all the gold, but Jin Zixuan is marching forward so he follows. As they pass through the entrance, the doors swing shut behind them, and something else—a lantern, imbued with spiritual energy?—begins to glow, throwing the space and all the trinkets glittering on every wall into glinting relief and dancing shadow.

Jin Zixuan pauses next to one of the many floor-to-ceiling shelves set in neat rows that seem to extend into infinity, receding past the space where the light reaches. Everywhere Jiang Cheng looks, there is more —more delicate objects, more shining gold, more precious jewels—and with some relief, his eyes focus on Jin Zixuan’s pale, serious face.

“I don’t know how you organize the treasury in Yunmeng,” Jin Zixuan begins, “but here the objects are arranged by chronology with the exception of major war trophies, which are grouped by object classification.” He hesitates, and Jiang Cheng notices that when Jin Zixuan isn’t wearing those gold rings (like now, since they are no longer at an important banquet) he instead fiddles with his wrist guards, hiding his hands in his sleeves. Awkward , says one voice in his head, and then another one adds, cute.

“I don’t think we have much of an organizational method,” Jiang Chen says quickly to quash the voice down. “If anything, objects are probably organized by the sect leader who was in charge when it was obtained.” And our ‘treasury’ is a little storage room in the back of the library , he adds silently, not a compound bigger than our guest chambers .

Jin Zixuan nods, and glances at the door. “We should move in farther to observe more recent gifts,” he says loudly, like he’s hoping the guards can hear it, and Jiang Cheng nods.

“Lead the way.”

As they move further into the recesses of the Jin treasury, Jiang Cheng notices how the light seems to follow them without growing any brighter or dimmer. It’s a buttery, warm light, and despite the looming shelves and the enormity of the task at hand, Jiang Cheng can feel himself relaxing a little. If Jin Zixuan believes it is safe enough to steal a sword back here, this might be one of the only places in Lanling where they are not in danger of being overheard or observed.

Jin Zixuan comes to a stop before a large shelf with swords dangling down in display. “It should be here,” he mutters, “since it was forged around the same time…” he leans forward and squints at the various hilts. Jiang Cheng watches him for a few seconds as he runs his fingers reverently along the sheaths.

“Can I help?”

Jin Zixuan glances back at him. His face is surreal in the strange lighting—half golden, half shadow. Jiang Cheng can’t stop the chills that tingle up his spine. “Maybe. Do you see any swords with a silver hilt in a gold setting?”

Jiang Cheng can spot at least half a dozen from where he’s standing that fit that description. “That isn’t helpful,” he says snidely, before he can stop himself.

Jin Zixuan sighs and straightens up. “If you look closely at the sheath, you can see a small sheep engraved next to the patterns at the base.”

“A sheep?” Jiang Cheng snorts. “Adorable.”

“Yes.” Jin Zixuan crosses his arms. “Mianmian likes sheep. I,” he clears his throat, “I designed it and had it engraved myself.”

Jiang Cheng pictures Jin Zixuan bent over a drawing of a sheep, tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth, that careful frown of concentration wrinkling his perfect brow, and he isn’t expecting the genuine smile that spreads itself across his face. To his horror, he realizes that it’s one of those disgusting, sappy smiles he usually reserves for puppies or his sister.

Apparently Jin Zixuan wasn’t expecting it either. He opens his mouth like he’s about to retort, and then snaps it shut. As he glances away, Jiang Cheng sees it—the flare of red on his cheeks. “Just start looking,” he huffs, and spins to examine another shelf.

Jiang Cheng turns to the shelf behind him. There’s a curious feeling in his chest, like a sudden flare of warmth, and he suddenly remembers what Wei Wuxian said. When are you going to tell Jin Zixuan about the engagement?  

Jiang Cheng wants to force the thought from his mind, but his stupid, foolish brain has already launched into a playthrough of the scene. How Jin Guangshan’s mouth will drop open when he hears of it, a vein throbbing in his temple. How Madame Jin and all the senior disciples will whisper in shock, pressing their sleeves over their mouths. How Jin Zixuan will look at him in horror, reeling back. Skilled cultivator or not, why would he want to trade the elegant Lady Jiang for her surly brother? 

Or maybe, Jiang Cheng thinks with a lurch of his stomach, Jin Zixuan won’t be disgusted so much as angry. All the time they spent together sparring in the dark, all their meetings this past week where they schemed to help Mianmian—he realizes, with a distinct sinking feeling, that Jin ZIxuan is going to think that he did it all just to win him over. That is simply how things work at Carp Tower: every kindness is a move in the larger game of give and take. Jin Zixuan will have no way of knowing that Jiang Cheng is doing all of this because he…

His hand stills in its absent-minded wandering over sword hilts. 

Why is he doing all of this?

There’s the obvious answer his brain supplies him with—Mianmian deserves better. And it’s true, she does. There’s the other obvious answer, too—Jiang Cheng is here because he cares about his sister. Jiang Yanli also deserves better, meaning she deserves a life that she chooses, not one that is chosen for her by her mother. But there is still the bigger question, the voice whispering at the back of his mind. Why are you marrying Jin Zixuan instead of trying to worm your way out of it? It is a voice that sounds distinctly like Wei Wuxian. 

Jiang Cheng could have driven Jin Zixuan away that first night they sparred. He could have refused to follow him to his baths, could have refused to go along with his plan, could have trusted in Wei Wuxian alone to rescue Mianmian. In fact, ever since he arrived at Carp Tower, Jiang Cheng could have been poking and prodding for loopholes to find a way to sabotage the marriage contract. 

But somehow there’s always Jin Zixuan in the way. The foolish peacock, whose posturing and pretty face seemed to let him float above it all at Gusu, right up until Wei Wuxian decked him in the face and left a nasty bruise on his perfect jaw. Jin Zixuan, who doesn’t like to get his robes dirty, who spends way too much on hair products, who is careless with money but cares so much about his friend, who twists his rings or fiddles with his sleeves when he’s nervous, who stumbles over his words and says the wrong thing by accident and then blusters to hide it, who blushes so easily every time Jiang Cheng winds him up, who wants to be married for love —somehow he is much more than Jiang Cheng expected. He trusts Jin Zixuan, he realizes, trusts him enough to follow him into the den of vipers that is Carp Tower, trusts him enough to believe he knows how to hold back the sheer force of the Wens, trusts him enough to enter a dark, closed-off room with him and turn his back.

“Jin Zixuan,” says Jiang Cheng, forcing himself to stand stock-still. He watches the light play on the blades of the swords before him, and he swallows hard. “I need to ask you something.”

“What was that, Wanyin?” Rustling, and Jin Zixuan is suddenly at his side. He smells like peonies and sunlight, and Jiang Cheng shuts his eyes. “Is it one of these here?”

“No, I didn’t find it.” Jiang Cheng fights the urge to turn away again, and instead opens his eyes. Jin Zixuan is close, hair draping over his shoulder, lips parted slightly in anticipation, the light flickering over his features.  He is handsome and hopeful and Jiang Cheng wants to punch him or shove him or do something with his hands aside from curl and uncurl them into fists as he gropes for words. “I, ah… just. Was thinking.”

Jin Zixuan tilts his head to the side. “You think the sword might be somewhere else?” He frowns, and Jiang Cheng can’t do this. He can’t fucking do this, here in the Jin treasury, in the middle of trying to find the senior disciple’s sword so she won’t be Wen Chao’s concubine. Jin Zixuan doesn’t deserve this. 

That particular realization hits like a punch to the gut, but Jiang Cheng has exactly no time for that right now because Jin Zixuan is blinking at him, so close, and he just wants to reach over and smooth out that stupid crease in his brow with his thumb. So instead he blurts, “Jiang Cheng.”

“What?”

“Jiang Cheng. You should call me.” Jiang Cheng coughs. His face is burning. It’s probably too dark to see his blush, right? “Instead of Jiang Wanyin. Since. We know each other.” He coughs again. “Better than before, I mean.”

“Ah.”

Fuck, it definitely isn’t too dark to see Jin Zixuan’s blush. Jiang Cheng’s whole face goes red when he’s embarrassed, but Jin Zixuan just flushes elegantly across his cheekbones and doesn’t look away. “Okay.” His throat bobs. “If you would like. Jiang Cheng.” 

A terrible moment of silence ensues. Jiang Cheng is trying very hard not to drop his gaze even though he very badly wants to look at literally anything other than Jin Zixuan’s fucking perfect face , which is puckering with some unidentifiable emotion. 

“Then...” Jin Zixuan’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Do you… want… to call me… something else?”

Husband, thinks Jiang Cheng wildly, Fuck, he knows? He can’t possibly know. “Like what?” he manages, voice only sounding kind of strangled.

Jin Zixuan shakes his head hard, hair flashing in the light. “Forget it,” he says in a voice pitched higher than usual, and he spins around to the same shelf of swords he was staring at before. “It’s fine.”

Jiang Cheng tries to swallow. His throat is so dry his tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. “Call you what?” he rasps. 

The back of Jin Zixuan’s neck is red now. He mumbles something quietly, and Jiang Cheng leans closer to hear, close enough to see the faint wispy hairs that escaped his elaborate bun. 

“What?”

“A-Xuan,” Jin Zixuan half-whispers, and Jiang Cheng has the air punched out of him for the second time.

“A-Xuan,” he repeats when he gets his breath back after several torturous seconds. “I can. Um. I can do that.”

“Okay.” It’s hardly a squeak, but something in Jiang Cheng’s chest jumps into his throat and he can hear his pulse in his ears. Jin Zixuan is right there, golden shoulders hunched, glittering in the strange ethereal light. Jiang Cheng could touch him. He could reach out and put his hands—what, around his shoulders? His waist? Jin Zixuan would shiver, or maybe jerk away, or maybe turn and—

“Ah!” 

Jiang Cheng jumps, and Jin Zixuan does too, half-pivoting around to face further down the row of shelves. The look is gone from his face, replaced with the light of inspiration. “I know what the problem is—we’re looking in the wrong place!” 

“Hunh,” is all Jiang Cheng can manage. Jin Zixuan’s flush is receding, and he tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear as he glances at Jiang Cheng, triumph glittering in his eyes. He looks really, really… something. Jiang Cheng can feel half a dozen words clamoring at the edge of his thoughts, but he shoves them all down.

Jin Zixuan is still talking. “It won’t be organized chronologically yet, since they probably only took it from her this week.” He gestures down the aisle. “It will be in the unsorted section, along with the other recent acquisitions. Of course.”

“Of course,” Jiang Cheng echoes, trying to focus on what Jin Zixuan is saying and not on the fifty variations on what the fuck that are coursing through him as he tries to process what the hell just happened. “Lead the way.”

They find Mianmian’s sword several shelves back, tossed carelessly on a pile of helmets, half-buried under a wrinkled tapestry. Jin Zixuan scowls as he fishes it out, but the careful way he tucks it into his sleeve makes something in Jiang Cheng ache. 

As they exit through the doors back into the sunlight, Jin Zixuan rolls his shoulders back, lifts his chin, and is suddenly once again the haughty Jin sect heir as he passes the guards without acknowledging them. Jiang Cheng follows, trying not to look too guilty and wondering when it was that Jin Zixuan stopped acting so stuck-up when they were alone together. With some small amount of surprise, he realizes he doesn’t know when it became obvious to him that Jin Zixuan’s uppity behavior is an act, at least some of it.

As they leave the treasury behind and move up the path towards the main road, Jin Zixuan shifts a little closer to Jiang Cheng so their shoulders brush. Jiang Cheng fights the urge to leap away like he’s been shocked by Zidian. 

“I’ll have Mianmian informed tonight,” Jin Zixuan says quietly, hardly moving his lips. “She should be ready to leave during the night hunt tomorrow.”

Jiang Cheng swallows. “I’m sure Wei Wuxian will be done in time,” he says, because his brother might be an annoying brat but he’s smart . If he says he can make a talisman to distract Wen Chao, he’ll have it ready before the first ghoul falls at the night hunt.

Jin Zixuan nods, once. “I will see you at dinner then.” He pauses. Jiang Cheng is just wondering if he’s considering how disgusting Wen Chao will be at the banquet when glances down, fiddling with his sleeves as he says, “Goodbye, Jiang Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng has forgotten how to breathe. He has forgotten how to do everything except stare at Jin Zixuan, who blinks rapidly and avoids his gaze before flicking his sleeves back and hurrying off down the path ahead. The amazement that swells in Jiang Cheng’s chest flattens everything, and the grounds of Carp Tower drift past him like a dream. It isn’t until he finds himself at the doors of his chambers that Jiang Cheng realizes he needs to snap out of it before Wei Wuxian sees him grinning like an idiot.

____________________________________________________________________________

As Jin banquets go, this one isn’t the worst. Jiang Cheng would like to attribute this to the fact that, without Wei Wuxian the ticking time bomb at his side, he can afford to pour himself a few more cups of liquor. He is seated next to Jin Zixuan, across from Wen Chao, so he keeps his eyes on his plate and permits himself to turn out Jin Guangshan’s heinously long toasts after the third time the Jin clan leader rises from his seat to wish the visiting clans luck in the night hunt tomorrow.

Mianmian is there in her maid’s clothes, of course, but Wen Chao seems unsettled by Wei Wuxian’s absence and spends most of his time eyeing the empty seat to Jiang Cheng’s right and demanding Mianmian run back and forth from the kitchen for new dishes rather than subjecting her to his disgusting caresses. Jiang Cheng catches her eye once or twice as she hurries past and he is heartened by the light he sees there, even when she bends to dab a stain off the corner of Wen Chao’s mouth at his request. Jin Zixuan must have found a way to tell her that tomorrow she will have an escape from the hell of servitude to the second Wen son. The thought makes the evening infinitely more bearable.

Speaking of Wei Wuxian—Jiang Cheng hopes he’s using his free time to his advantage. Jiang Cheng returned from the treasury, he hadn’t even glanced up from his work. The plate of food Jiang Cheng had sent for him was untouched on the table. After forcing him to wolf down a few dry buns, Jiang Cheng had left Wei Wuxian in their chambers, still hunched over his talisman experiments, dark circles under his eyes as he mumbled to himself and scribbled. 

Admittedly, Jiang Cheng had been nervous to enter the banquet hall alone, bracing himself for the avalanche of questions about his missing brother, but as he made his way to his seat, he’d only received a gleeful smirk from Jin Zixun. “I heard last night’s dinner didn’t agree with Young Master Wei,” he sneered with such obvious delight that Jiang Cheng wondered if maybe he’d poisoned Wei Wuxian’s food. It wasn’t until everyone was seated and Madame Jin was carefully inquiring as to whether she’d need to send a maid to clean the Jiang chambers tonight that Jiang Cheng realized how thoroughly persuasive Jin Zixuan must have been with his lie.

“That won’t be necessary,” he says quickly, bobbing his head to Madame Jin. “Wei Wuxian can clean up his own… mess.” He is gratified by the look of nausea that steals over Madame Jin’s face for an instant before she schools her features back into calm.

“I see. Please don’t hesitate to ask if you need any assistance, Young Master Jiang.” Madame Jin turns her attention back to her own food, but she picks at it like she’s lost her appetite. Jiang Cheng holds back a smile and nudges Jin Zixuan’s knee under the table as he raises his cup to his lips.

“What did you tell her?” he mumbles, and Jin Zixuan bites his lip.

“It’s not my fault that the servants were very descriptive when explaining why the esteemed Young Master Wei wasn’t going to be at dinner,” he whispers back, and Jiang Cheng can’t help but grin into his cup. Jin Zixuan’s knee is warm against his, and he doesn’t pull away. 

After dinner, the cultivators retreat back to their chambers for a good night’s rest before the excitement of the following day’s hunt. Many are fairly swaying from the effects of the alcohol, which had flowed steadily throughout the evening. Jiang Cheng doesn’t drink as often as Wei Wuxian, and though he likes to think he can still hold his liquor, he finds that the floor is tilting a little bit more than normal as he makes his way down the steps towards the door, trying to avoid colliding with the bustling cultivators around him.

“Young Master Jiang.” Jin Zixuan’s steadying hand is on his shoulder, and he falls into step beside him. “I wanted to tell you I look forward to seeing your skills at the night hunt tomorrow.”

Jiang Cheng catches a glimpse of a scowling Wen Chao behind them, and he senses that they are moving away from the table before he can follow and pick a fight about Wei Wuxian—or something else. “Same to you, Young Master Jin.” 

“Regardless of who wins, I am sure it will be an interesting night,” Jin Zixuan continues as they step out into the cool night air. The Lanling evening is alive with laughter and conversation from all the disciples and cultivators spilling out of the hall to head back to their quarters. “There will be great shows of skills on all sides. 

“That’s true.” Jiang Cheng feels the sudden twinge of dread when he thinks about tomorrow and how they will have to spirit Mianmian away in broad daylight. So many things could go wrong. Probably will go wrong. “I hope nobody will be injured by some foolish slip-up,” he says, trying to make it sound like an afterthought.

Jin Zixuan bows his head. “Hopefully not. We should head back to our chambers to sleep to ensure we are well-rested tomorrow and prepared to face the challenges ahead. Good night, Jiang—“ he hesitates just half a second, long enough to make the heat rise to Jiang Cheng’s face as he realizes what name is on the tip of Jin Zixuan’s tongue, what name he would say if they weren’t surrounded by others, “—Wanyin.”

“Good night.” A-Xuan, Jiang Cheng thinks but doesn’t say. He can feel the shape of the name on his lips. A-Xuan. Before he can stop himself, he mouths it silently. He is drunk and stupid and they are not alone, but he knows that Jin Zixuan sees it because he makes a little noise in the back of his throat that Jiang Cheng would give every sword in the Jin sect treasury to hear again.

“Good night,” Jin Zixuan says again, hoarsely. He drops his hand from Jiang Cheng’s shoulder and hurries off into the night. Surely the sudden giddiness that rises up in Jiang Cheng’s stomach as he watches him go can be blamed on the alcohol.

He glides back to his chambers in a walk that seems to take half the time it usually does,  and when he arrives, he thumps on the door perhaps harder than necessary. Wei Wuxian opens it, frowning, ink on his face and hands.

“Are you trying to wake every cultivator in Lanling?” he demands, and then stops and gives him a slow once-over. “Hey. Jiang Cheng. What’s wrong with you?” 

He sounds genuinely curious, so Jiang Cheng can’t find it in him to scowl. “Nothing,” he says airily, and pushes past Wei Wuxian to step into their rooms. 

Wei Wuxian yanks the doors closed and follows Jiang Cheng into his bedroom. “You look weird .”

“So do you.” Jiang Cheng is already in the process of stripping off his too-heavy banquet clothes, but he pauses to shoot a look at Wei Wuxian’s disheveled hair, dirty hands, and the torn-up bits of talisman paper clinging to his clothes. “Did you figure something out for tomorrow?”

“Of course. I visited the site and everything.” Wei Wuxian waves the question off. “But forget about me. What happened at dinner to make you all…” he gestures vaguely with his inky fingers.

“All what?” Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes. He feels the first stirrings of annoyance piercing the bubble of his good mood. 

“You know. Bouncy . ” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Usually you storm everywhere, but when I opened the door, you were like,” he clasps his hands behind his back and rocks forward on his heels. “And you were almost smiling, too! Did Wen Chao slip and bash his brains out on the Carp Tower stairs?” 

Jiang Cheng snorts and turns his attention back to unfastening his robes. “I wish.” 

“Then what? ” Wei Wuxian crosses his arms. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the peacock, does it?” 

“No,” says Jiang Cheng, a little too quickly and without enough heat. He’s grateful for the distraction of his robes giving him an excuse not to meet Wei Wuxian’s eye. It distantly occurs to him that maybe the alcohol is playing a part in how clumsy his fingers are.

“It does. ” Wei Wuxian is delighted. “Jiang Cheng . You like him!”

Jiang Cheng gives up on his robes, half-shucked off his shoulders, and shoots what he hopes is a vicious glare at Wei Wuxian. “What are you talking about,” he says icily.

“You spar with him at night, you keep refusing to make fun of him like we used to, you have that secret eye contact language…” Wei Wuxian is beaming. “Shijie is so lucky! You’re such a good brother, you took over her duty to fall in love with Jin Zixuan!”

“You–!” 

Jiang Cheng lunges, but Wei Wuxian skips out of the way, laughing. “Ah, Jiang Cheng, it’s fine! He’s handsome enough for you, and—what were your other requirements? A fine family, not too talkative, not too great at cultivation—oh, is he hard-working? I’d think he’s too spoiled for that, but a few weeks at Lotus Pier will cure him!”

Jiang Cheng is out of breath from chasing Wei Wuxian. The room is bobbing and spinning around him again, and Wei Wuxian is grinning from a safe distance away. “I’m not in love with Jin Zixuan,” he growls.

“But you could be.” Wei Wuxian’s smile drops away with startling rapidity, replaced with an intensely blank stare. “You really like him, don’t you?”

Jiang Cheng freezes. He has the sudden and uncomfortable feeling that Wei Wuxian has been watching him a lot more closely than he has realized, that he is completely aware of how drunk Jiang Cheng is, and most unsettlingly, that he can read in Jiang Cheng’s face the memory of all the blushes that have scored their ways across his cheeks every time Jin Zixuan smiles at him with actual sincerity. 

Wei Wuxian nods like Jiang Cheng’s frozen silence is an answer in and of itself. “Okay, fine,” he says seriously, “I need you to promise me something.”

“I’m marrying him for the sake of the clan,” Jiang Cheng says in a rush, surprising both of them, “I’m doing it for a-jie, not because of any stupid—”

“Jiang Cheng, listen .” 

Jiang Cheng shuts up. There is a heaviness in Wei Wuxian’s gaze that wasn’t there a few moments ago. Of course, Jiang Cheng thinks. He hates Jin Zixuan. That’s something they’ve always agreed on, and for it to change now must feel like a betrayal. 

“Tomorrow, during the night hunt.” Wei Wuxian draws in a breath. Jiang Cheng suddenly feels nauseous. “No matter what you feel, or what you think is right, I need you to tell me that you will worry about yourself . If you’re going to be reckless, let me help you. No stupid self-sacrificing bullshit, all right?”

“What makes you think I was planning to die tomorrow?” Jiang Cheng snaps, but he has the sick feeling he already knows the answer. 

Wei Wuxian half-smiles, but it is fleeting. “You know Jin Zixuan is going to be targeted by Wen Chao.”

Jiang Cheng’s stupid fancy banquet robe is strangling him. He rips at the ties and hears the sound of fabric tearing, but he can’t bring himself to care. “I’m not going to die for Jin Zixuan ,” he hisses, and he wonders for barely a second if he’s talking to himself as much as Wei Wuxian. “I don’t—I’m not—” he flails about for words as he shucks off his banquet robe. Of course Wei Wuxian chooses now of all times to not interrupt him. “Nothing is going to change because of him, okay?” He glances up and expects to find Wei Wuxian looking skeptical, maybe smoothing over his disbelief and hurt and frustration with a stupid joke. But instead he looks… surprised. And a little confused.

“Yeah, okay.” Wei Wuxian frowns. “I just—you need to not throw yourself into danger on your own, all right? Can you just promise that? That you’ll wait until I’m by your side?”

Jiang Cheng clenches his teeth. “I can,” he grits out, because what else can he say? That he isn't in love with Jin Zixuan? That people can change, and so can their understanding of each other? That Wei Wuxian is an idiot if he thinks Jiang Cheng doesn’t get what he’s trying to say? Jin Zixuan can be important to him—will inevitably have to be important to him as a future husband—without becoming the most important thing in his life. Wei Wuxian sees through Jiang Cheng, all the way to his stupid mushy core, to the part of him that knows Jiang Cheng would step in front of a sword for the people he cares most about. And Wei Wuxian is telling him that Jin Zixuan isn’t the kind of person he should be placing in that category.

Well, fuck that. It’s not as if Wei Wuxian knows anything reasonable about giving his heart away.

“I’m going to bed,” Jiang Cheng says abruptly, cutting off Wei Wuxian as he opens his mouth to say something else. “We need to be rested for tomorrow.” His words echo Jin Zixuan said earlier to him, and the parallel makes something in him ache. He brushes past Wei Wuxian and slams the door in his face. He collapses face-down on the blankets, not even bothering to strip off his inner robes, and tries not to think about how much harder everything will be if Wei Wuxian hates his future husband.

At least you won’t hate him , says the idiot voice in Jiang Cheng’s brain, and the thought is supplemented by a slow-motion recap of Jin Zixuan’s knee brushing his, Jin Zixuan’s pale shoulders in the bath, Jin Zixuan’s ridiculous, imperfect, beautiful smile. 

Stop. Stop thinking. Jiang Cheng rolls over and smothers his face in a pillow, ignoring the rustling sounds outside as Wei Wuxian readies himself for bed. Jin Zixuan in the treasury, calling him by his name. Jin Zixuan splayed in the dirt, panting underneath Jiang Cheng’s blade. Jin Zixuan climbing through his window, like an idiot, probably mimicking something stupid that Mianmian does because he wouldn’t dream of messing up his flawless elegance and grace if it wasn’t for the direst of circumstances. 

Right. The dire circumstances. Mianmian. Jiang Cheng rolls over again and squeezes his eyes shut. He needs to sleep or he won’t be ready for whatever horrors await him in the night hunt.

It isn’t until he’s almost drifting off, limbs heavy from exhaustion and alcohol, that Jiang Cheng realizes that something Wei Wuxian said didn’t make sense. You spar with Jin Zixuan at night . But the dark tide of sleep is sweeping him away from rational thought. Wei Wuxian’s jealousy can wait for tomorrow. It can all wait for tomorrow. There’s a battle to be won first. 

____________________________________________________________________________

The crowd assembles on the outskirts of the grounds of Carp Tower. Cultivators draped in Jin gold and Wen red mill around before the enormous golden tents billowing in the sunlight. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian can see the glitter before they are close enough to hear the excited murmur of the crowd as cultivators compare weapons, betting and daring each other to kill more evil spirits, to hit more targets, to impress their sect leaders and friends.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have come to Lanling alone,” Wei Wuxian says pensively as they approach. “One or two junior disciples would have been good to have with us.”

Jiang Cheng sighs. “I barely agreed to bring you,” he reminds him. “I didn’t want to drag any more people into this than I had to.”

“Right.” Wei Wuxian frowns, and Jiang Cheng wonders if he’s thinking about his talisman plan. He’d avoided questions about it that morning—a Jin attendant had brought their breakfast and had lingered outside their door while they ate, so there was no chance to speak freely. Jiang Cheng had felt that was ominous, that maybe someone was onto them, and he’d worried briefly if anyone had heard their repartee last night. Surely they’d think it was two brothers being foolish, right? 

“How are we going to tell…” Jiang Cheng trailed off and cast a furtive glance around. Fucking Carp Tower. No privacy anywhere, but especially not here, right next to the assembly of cultivators all looking to get a leg up on each other. 

“Don’t worry.” Wei Wuxian smiles and taps his pocket, where a red paper silhouette pokes its head out for a second before ducking back in. “I’ll explain everything. It’ll work out as long as everyone is ready,” his hand twitches towards Suibian, and Jiang Cheng understands he means as long as Mianmian has her sword , “and as long as you remember what I told you last night.”

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth again. “That I shouldn’t go jumping into danger for the sake of Jin Zixuan?” 

“No!” Wei Wuxian actually stops walking. He looks horrified. “I never said that.”

“Yes, you did.” Jiang Cheng resists the urge to storm ahead. It would be a worse look for the Jiang sect if he were to arrive by himself again thanks to all the damage Wei Wuxian has already done by refusing to show up to banquets. Anger flares up in his stomach.

“I didn’t,” Wei Wuxian insists. He sounds a little panicked. “I just said you should wait for me .”

Jiang Cheng stops too and turns to stare at him. “What?”

“I know that if there’s danger you’re going to throw yourself in front of it,” says Wei Wuxian. He looks so small, suddenly, standing there in his stupid black robes, deep dark circles under his eyes. Did he sleep at all last night? “I just want you to let me support you. Please,” he hesitates. Jiang Cheng wonders what it is exactly that he’s trying to say. “Please let me help you. Don’t do it alone.”

Jiang Cheng squints. “Fine,” he says. “Only if this isn’t all some elaborate plan to assassinate Jin Zixuan.” 

He’s only half-kidding, but relief pours into Wei Wuxian’s face. “It’s the opposite,” he promises, and falls back into step with Jiang Cheng. “I just can’t explain it all right now. But,” he bumps their shoulders together, “thank you for trusting me.”

“Why wouldn’t I trust you?” Jiang Cheng mumbles. “I just wish you would trust me a little more.”

“I do,” says Wei Wuxian, softly, almost like he didn’t mean for Jiang Cheng to hear it, but before he can say anything else they are at the outskirts of the crowd and everyone’s eyes are on them as they pass. Jiang Cheng rolls his shoulders back and thinks, not for the first time, that he is grateful to have Wei Wuxian by his side. 

The stares they receive aren’t hostile, but they are curious—as are the whispers that follow in their wake. Why did the Jiang sect only bring two cultivators? A personal visit, surely. To discuss the Jiang-Jin marriage alliance? Why is Young Master Wei only making an appearance now? Is it true he’s been ill?

Wei Wuxian must hear them too, because he slumps over and begins to drag his feet, letting out a pitiful cough every couple of steps until Jiang Cheng glares at him. “You’re going to make the Wens think you’re dying,” he hisses.

“Good. They’ll underestimate me,” Wei Wuxian whispers back, hiding his smile under another cough.

As they move towards the entrance of the golden tent, Jin Guangshan steps out to welcome them. A pale-looking Jin Zixuan hangs back behind him. 

“Young Master Jiang!” Jin Guangshan booms. “And Young Master Wei, it is an honor that you are both able to attend today’s festivities.”

Jiang Cheng bows, reminding himself to lower his head and tear his eyes away from Jin Zixuan. When he rises, he forces himself to keep his gaze respectfully on Jin Guangshan as he says, “Thanks to Sect Leader Jin for his generosity and hospitality. Wei Wuxian is feeling much better.” Wei Wuxian nods and makes a show of stifling a cough. 

Jin Guangshan smiles and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wonderful. Now then, feel free to join the ranks of participants alongside my son.”

Jin Zixuan catches Jiang Cheng’s eye and they both bow, politely. He moves to stand at Jiang Cheng’s side as his father vanishes back into the text in a whirl of gold fabric. 

“Young Master Jiang,” he murmurs, and Jiang Cheng’s heart flutters stupidly.

“Young Master Jin,” he responds, trying to keep his voice steady. He is hyper-aware of everyone’s eyes on him, including Wei Wuxian. 

“I look forward to witnessing your cultivation skills in this competition,” Jin Zixuan says, dignified, and then with a casual air of assumed familiarity, he places his hand on the small of Jiang Cheng’s back. 

Jiang Cheng goes absolutely still. This is—he has seen other cultivators touch each other with this familiarity, but they are usually sworn brothers or members of the same sect. He can feel the warmth of Jin Zixuan’s hand through his robe, and he can see the pale, drawn lines of anxiety written across the Jin sect heir’s brow. He’s worried I’m going to pull away from him , Jiang Cheng thinks for one second, and he shouldn’t be , but before his train of thought can go any further, Jin Zixuan lets his hand drop.

“Your robes are of fine material,” he says unconvincingly. Jiang Cheng feels a flare of annoyance, because what the fuck was that, but then he notes the way Jin Zixuan’s eyes flicker down to Jiang Cheng’s hand. Then up to Jiang Cheng’s face. Then back to his hand. Then his face again.

Ah. Jiang Cheng tries not to be too audible with his sharp intake of breath. Quickly, feigning casualness, he reaches out to brush his hand against Jin Zixuan’s back. 

“Your own robes are—” Jiang Cheng bites off his words, because oh , now it makes sense. He can feel the long, smooth steel through the fabric. Hidden under Jin Zixuan’s fancy golden hunting robes is Mianmian’s sword. He swallows quickly and says, “—very… fitting. For today’s events.” A bead of sweat slides down his back. Maybe that isn’t enough of a compliment for the watching Jin cultivators. “Um. Attractive.” 

Jin Zixuan makes a little noise that might be assent or something else. Jiang Cheng draws away quickly, not looking at him or anyone else in the crowd. His face feels hot, unnecessarily. 

“Should we stand with the other cultivators?” Wei Wuxian asks from somewhere behind him. “Or should we join your father in the tent?”

Jin Zixuan’s head snaps up and he takes a careful step back from Jiang Cheng. “Right.” His ears are red, Jiang Cheng notes. “I’ll go fetch Young Master Wen. Aside from my father, he’s the last cultivator in the tent. Everyone else in there is a servant.”

“Ah.” Wei Wuxian inclines his head, and just because he knows what to look for, Jiang Cheng manages to catch a glimpse of the hand that darts into his pocket for the red paper person. Clever, he thinks, glancing over at Jin Zixuan, who is keeping his face as inscrutable as possible. Now they know where Mianmian is, and they know she will be armed by the time everyone is assembled for the night hunt. 

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng move to the front of the lines of cultivators as Jin Zixuan disappears into the tent. When Wen Chao emerges, stomping and scowling like he’s already in a bad mood, Wei Wuxian nudges Jiang Cheng’s arm.

“How many spirits do you think he’s going to be able to kill in the hunt?” he whispers, just loud enough for the Jin cultivators standing next to them to hear.

“I don’t know,” Jiang Cheng whispers back, suddenly very conscious that he is the future sect leader, and as such, he is the one who has to be responsible and not shoot off his mouth in public. He shouldn’t be touching the small of the Jin sect heir’s back in public either, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“I think he’ll kill none ,” whispers Wei Wuxian, “because he’s a coward.” This inspires smothered titters of laughter from the Jin cultivators. He looks very pleased with himself.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Focus on yourself,” he hisses, and before he can say more, Wen Chao is standing in front of them.

“Nice to see you didn’t die during the night,” he sneers at Wei Wuxian, not even granting Jiang Cheng the courtesy of a bare-minimum-politeness bow. Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, and Wen Chao ignores him.

“I guess something at the banquet just disagreed with me,” Wei Wuxian says mildly, not flinching from Wen Chao’s stare. “I hope it wasn’t too boring without me.”

“Well, things are certainly about to get interesting .” Wen Chao casts his gaze around and it lands on Jin Guangshan, who steps out of the tent and is followed a few seconds later by Jin Zixuan. “Try to keep up.”

“Of course,” says Wei Wuxian, still sounding calm and even a little bored. “I’m sure the Wens have something spectacular in store.”

Wen Chao regards Wei Wuxian with suspicion for around half a second before Jin Guangshan claps his hands and draws the crowd’s attention to him. Jin Zixuan falls into place next to Jiang Cheng, fidgeting with his mussed-looking robe—uncharacteristic for him to look even slightly disheveled in public, thinks Jiang Cheng with concern—but he forces himself to stop as Wen Chao shifts to stand on his other side and Jin Guangshan begins to speak. 

It’s the usual droning, self-congratulatory speech about how wonderful the night hunt will be, how honored the cultivators are to attend, how he’s sure every sect will do their best, more rambling that demonstrates how much he likes the sound of his own voice. Jiang Cheng tunes him out and tries to watch Jin Zixuan out of the corner of his eye.

“Mianmian will be ready.” Jin Zixuan practically exhales the words, too quiet for anyone but Jiang Cheng to hear. 

Jiang Cheng takes in a slow breath and waits for the polite applause that punctuates the end of Jin Guangshan’s speech to whisper back, “Be careful.” He notes the way Jin Zixuan nods, and then adds, just because he can, “A-Xuan.”

Jin Zixuan’s swallow is audible even over the noise of the crowd. Jiang Cheng glances at him long enough to catch the pink flush in Jin Zixuan’s cheeks, and it fuels a spark of energy inside him. Bring it on, Wen Chao , he thinks, and reaches for Sandu as everyone surges forward to begin the hunt.

____________________________________________________________________________

Jiang Cheng has barely set foot in the thick shadows of the forest when Wei Wuxian seizes his elbow. With a wild look in his eye, he drags him into a nearby bush, away from the crowd of cultivators eager for the hunt.

“What the—!”

“Shhh!” Wei Wuxian brushes a leaf out of his hair and shoots Jiang Cheng a serious look, partially hidden by the shadows. “We have to follow Jin Zixuan, okay? Keep on his tail.”

Jiang Cheng spits out a twig indignantly. “You could have warned me,” he grumbles, but it’s not like he has other options, so he adds, “What about Wen Chao?”

“I have the feeling that he won’t be far off either.” Wei Wuxian looks like he wants to say more, but a rush of footsteps is audible from outside their hiding place. They both go still as a group of rowdy junior cultivators race past, laughing and jostling at each other. As soon as the noise dies away, Jiang Cheng gets to his feet and throws his sword down.

“Let’s go.” 

He kicks off the ground, and Wei Wuxian follows. There’s no time to lose. It hasn’t been too long since the hunt started, but Jiang Cheng still feels a flutter of panic as he rises upwards. What if they can’t find Jin Zixuan in time before whatever terrible thing Wen Chao has planned is set in motion?

They crest the treetops, and Jiang Cheng squints into the horizon. Several cultivators hover in the distance, but there—twin glints of gold, shinier than any of the other Jin disciples, are flying towards the north. 

“Is that Jin Zixuan?”

Wei Wuxian heaves a sigh. “ Please tell me he’s not with that horrible cousin of his,” he groans, and urges Suibian down. Jiang Cheng follows him as he dips lower. When their swords are practically scraping the upper branches of the trees, he grits his teeth and pours his spiritual energy into Sandu to speed up. He doesn’t dare take his eyes off Jin Zixuan, a tiny golden beacon ahead. It would be so easy to lose him right now.

“Jiang Cheng, slow down,” snaps Wei Wuxian from somewhere behind him. “We don’t want them to see us just yet.”

“Why not?” Jiang Cheng shoots back. “We can guard each other’s backs, at the very least.”

“Wen Chao is going to be lurking nearby, and we won’t have the element of surprise if he knows we’re coming ,” Wei Wuxian shoots back. “And you can’t do anything if you have no energy left when we get there.”

Jiang Cheng reluctantly forces himself to slow down. “So then what are we going to do? Jump out and yell ‘boo’ when Wen Chao tries to kill him?”

Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue. Even up here, in the middle of a speed flight during what could very well be a deadly night hunt, he slouches with a mix of confidence and insouciance. “You and I both know Wen Chao is a coward. You really think he’d attack Jin Zixuan directly?”

A cold pang of fear wraps itself around Jiang Cheng’s heart. “Then with what?” 

Wei Wuxian lifts an eyebrow. “Don’t you think it’s strange that we’ve been flying over the night hunt grounds and still not seen, heard, or felt a single evil spirit?”

Jiang Cheng feels the pang of fear again, this time much stronger. Sandu wobbles under him. “Wei Wuxian,” he whispers. “What’s about to happen?”

Wei Wuxian sets his jaw and looks forward to where Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun—more visible now—are dropping down below the treeline, into the woods. “Just save your energy,” is all he says, and ducks down after the Jins. Jiang Cheng curses below his breath and follows.

They alight in the branches of a leafy tree, and Wei Wuxian produces two complicated-looking masking talismans from his pocket. To hide , he mouths, and Jiang Cheng permits him to stick it onto his sleeve as he peers through the leaves at Jin Zixuan below.

The two Jin cousins have landed on the forest floor, but instead of looking for spirits, they are arguing. Jin Zixuan is pacing and Jin Zixun has his arms folded over his chest along with that omnipresent sour look on his face. Straining his ears, Jiang Cheng can pick up their raised voices.

“.. .nothing here ,” Jin Zixun hisses. “We need to sweep the perimeter and flush them out!”

“Something isn’t right.” Jin Zixuan is fidgeting with his sleeves again, and it does something unfortunate to Jiang Cheng’s heart. Stupid. “No traces of any—”

“Maybe someone put up spirit nets ahead of time!” Jin Zixun throws his hands up and huffs with clear annoyance. “Or maybe we aren’t looking hard enough!” 

Jin Zixuan hesitates, and Jin Zixun scoffs. “Look, if you’re so worried, go back to Uncle and tell him. I’m going to keep looking.” Without waiting for a response, he whirls on his heel and stalks off into the forest, leaving Jin Zixuan blinking in his wake.

Jiang Cheng shoots Wei Wuxian a wide-eyed look, and is surprised to find that his brother is smiling a little. Asshole , Wei Wuxian mouths, and Jiang Cheng has to fight back a snort. He’s never been a fan of that pushy Jin cousin who loves to act like he has all the authority in his sect. But now Jin Zixuan is alone—Jiang Cheng glances back down and thinks about how Wei Wuxian said Wen Chao wouldn’t be far away.

Wei Wuxian’s hand shoots out to grab Jiang Cheng’s elbow. “Not yet,” he says softly. “You promised you’d wait.”

Jiang Cheng scowls and turns his attention back to the scene below. Jin Zixuan is pacing, but as Jiang Cheng watches, he nods once, decisively, before stalking off determinedly into the woods in the opposite direction of Jin Zixun. After a couple of breathless moments, Wei Wuxian nods at Jiang Cheng and they drop to the forest floor together to follow Jin Zixuan’s trail into the woods. Resisting the urge to slice through the brush and sprint ahead isn’t easy, but Jiang Cheng forces himself to follow Wei Wuxian’s slow, creeping pace, ducking behind trees every couple steps. It isn’t until the trees begin to thin out around them and hiding gets more difficult that Jiang Cheng realizes that they are returning to the clearing at the hunt starting point.

“What is he doing?” he whispers, mostly to himself. All he can see of Jin Zixuan ahead is a flicker of gold through the branches, enough to follow through the dim of the forest.

“Tattling to his daddy.” Wei Wuxian says with a trace of mockery, but it sounds milder than usual, tinged at the edges with something like thoughtfulness. “So it’s almost time…” 

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, but before he can smack Wei Wuxian for being so vague and ominous, he is cut off by a shout from somewhere behind them. 

“ Jin Zixuan !”

Wei Wuxian’s sudden grip on Jiang Cheng’s wrist is like iron. He drags him up as he scales the nearest tree just in time to dodge a disgruntled Wen Chao storming past, nose in his air like he’s doing his best imitation of a Jin. He’s followed closely by a dark shadow of a man. Jiang Cheng has to do a double take before he remembers that Wen Zhuliu, the famed bodyguard of the Wen heirs, has probably been here from the beginning, spending most banquets blending into the background as just another cultivator in red. 

“Your night hunt is a joke!” Wen Chao snaps, and from this birds-eye view, Jiang Cheng can see perfectly how he stabs his finger at Jin Zixuan’s chest, one hand resting threateningly on his sword. “There’s nothing to hunt !”

“Young Master Wen.” Jin Zixuan is not doing a very good job of concealing his annoyance—not that he ever does. “I am about to speak with my father—”

“Yeah, you’d better,” sneers Wen Chao. “This is a great insult to the Wen clan, you know that? All the fuss about hospitality, and the only thing running around in these woods is a bunch of fumbling, lazy Jin cultivators.”

Jin Zixuan stiffens, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. “Something must be wrong,” he says, voice only a little strained. “I am sure it will be sorted out as soon as I return to the main encampment.”

As Wen Chao puffs out his chest to continue his tirade, Jiang Cheng leans over to Wei Wuxian. “How did Wen Chao find Jin Zixuan?” he whispers. “Tracking talismans?”

The corner of Wei Wuxian’s mouth quirks up. “Pretty good guess, except you’re an idiot,” he whispers back. “You didn’t sense Wen Zhuliu following him this whole time?”

Jiang Cheng blanches. “What? No. Was he really?”

“My masking talismans are pretty good, right?” Wei Wuxian looks smug. “He didn’t see us at all. But I can’t believe you didn’t even notice him… you were blinded by something shiny, huh?”

Jiang Cheng is considering pushing Wei Wuxian out of the tree when he realizes that the voices below have stopped speaking. He glances over to find Wen Chao, Wen Zhuliu, and Jin Zixuan all staring apprehensively into the woods. A low rumbling has suddenly become audible, and the thick scent of sulfur fills the air.

“What’s that—” Wen Chao starts to ask, and then chokes himself off as a wave of resentful energy that rolls into the clearing, so strong it takes Jiang Cheng’s breath away for a moment.

“What the fuck,” Jiang Cheng gasps, and it only takes a glance at Wei Wuxian’s mischievous smirk for the apprehension building in his chest to explode into full-on dread. “Wei Wuxian. What the hell did you do?”

Wei Wuxian gets to his feet and gestures to the clearing below, where the three figures are edging away from the source of the energy. “We should probably follow them when they start to run,” he says ominously, and then the evil spirits burst into view.

Jiang Cheng can’t believe his eyes. This is more spirits in one place than he has ever seen before. Hundreds—no, surely thousands of spirits tearing at the air and howling and oozing evil and black smoke, stumbling forward towards the living bodies before them. If he wasn’t frozen with fear, Jiang Cheng might throw up from the way his stomach twists at the sheer force of their resentment. But before he has the chance to react, Wei Wuxian is yanking him into motion. As Wen Chao, Wen Zhuliu, and Jin Zixuan take off running, the two of them bound alongside across the tree branches.

“There’s so many, shit,” Jiang Cheng hisses as he leaps forward. Jin Zixuan’s golden robe is disappearing and reappearing through the gaps in the trees, and it’s almost impossible to keep an eye on him. “What’s happening? ”

“You’ll see,” Wei Wuxian gasps back, and then he stumbles to a stop, catching himself on a tree limb with one hand and snagging the back of Jiang Cheng’s robes with another. “Wait, hold on. We need to stop here.”

Jiang Cheng sways for a moment on the limb with the inertia of the sudden stop. “What?” 

“They’ll see us if we keep going.” Wei Wuxian gestures ahead, and Jiang Cheng realizes suddenly that they are on the very edge of the woods, right beside the main clearing. He can actually see the glittering gold tent where Jin Guangshan is presumably drinking wine and enjoying himself right now. 

“Why—”

“Look.” Wei Wuxian points, and Jiang Cheng watches as Jin Zixuan and Wen Chao burst out of the woods, Wen Zhuliu right behind them. He can sense the evil energy concentrated behind them, can feel how it creeps forward, but surely there’s a boundary spell to contain this kind of thing—which begs the question of why he and Wei Wuxian aren’t getting the fuck out of said boundary area. 

Jiang Cheng cuts his eyes to his brother, and the question dies on his lips when he realizes that Wei Wuxian is smiling . It’s a horrible smile, all teeth. Jiang Cheng feels himself shudder, but his attention is suddenly drawn back to the clearing below as Jin Zixuan draws his sword.

“Father!” he shouts as he tears towards the golden tent. “Father! We nee—” 

It all happens so fast. A flicker of blue heat, almost like lightning, and Jin Zixuan is suddenly no longer on his feet—he’s sprawled backwards on the ground as the boundary field before him shudders and is visible for a second, a glowing network of light. Wen Chao stumbles for a moment, but he passes through the boundary, followed immediately by Wen Zhuliu.

The cry of Jin Zixuan’s name is halfway out of Jiang Cheng’s mouth before Wei Wuxian’s hand clamps over his face. 

“Not yet!” he hisses. “Just wait, I promise—”

“What is going on?” Jin Guangshan is out of his tent now, looking stunned to see his son in the dirt and a pale, sweaty Wen Chao stumbling towards him. “The night hunt isn’t over already, surely?”

“The spirits,” Wen Chao whimpers, and he jerks a shaking hand towards the woods. “This isn’t how it was supposed to—they’re coming all at once —”

“Jin Zixuan!” Jin Guangshan shoves past Wen Chao and hurries towards his son, who has groggily pushed himself to a sitting position. “What happened?”

Jin Zixuan’s eyes go wide as he sees his father approaching. “Wait, don’t—”

Again the crackle of light. Jin Guangshan stumbles back, hand on his sword. “What is going on ?” he thunders, and moves to try again to reach his son. Once more, the light sparks as the boundary repels him. Jin Guangshan jerks back as though shocked. His hair is smoking a little. 

“Someone tampered with the boundary field,” whispers Jiang Cheng, sort of in awe. He really didn’t think Wen Chao had the skills or imagination to invest in a revenge this elaborate. “What the fuck.”

“And it can get worse,” says Wei Wuxian, sounding entirely too amused. 

The acrid scent of the evil spirits suddenly catches Jiang Cheng right in the face, and he reels back, eyes watering. With an unimaginable wave of horror, he realizes that below, their sinuous, smokelike shapes have erupted out of the woods and are now bearing down on the edges of the boundary. Jin Zixuan—who has barely struggled to his feet now, sword still in hand—is caught between a tide of evil spirits and an unbreakable wall of energy. Ignoring his father, beating uselessly at the barrier with his sword, he is bracing himself for the fight. 

Jiang Cheng’s throat goes dry. Oh, fuck, he knows that stance—shoulders squared, blade lifted, chin up as he crouches to prepare to swing. Tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth. Jin Zixuan is standing exactly like he does when he spars Jiang Cheng. And he is going to die.

Jin Guangshan must have come to the same conclusion, because he beats his fist uselessly against the barrier. “My son!” he bellows. “Someone help him!” Suddenly, he whirls around and points at Wen Chao, eyes wild. “You! Help!”

Wen Chao shakes his head and shrinks back. “I can’t!” he shouts, and this is the thing that jostles Jiang Cheng out of his frozen stupor. His body is moving of its own accord—he crouches, sees the ideal spot to land, there , take out three spirits, two with Sandu and one with the blow of his landing, then he and Jin Zixuan will have to fight back-to-back—

“Jiang Cheng.” Wei Wuxian’s voice in his ear, his iron grip on his shoulders. “Remember what I said. Please trust me, just wait for my signal. Please.”

Jiang Cheng thrashes against him. “He’s going to die,” he says, and it comes out half-sob. “Wei Wuxian, A-Xuan’s going to—”

“He’s not.” Wei Wuxian’s grip grows even firmer, strong enough to leave bruises. “He won’t. Just keep watching.”

The first spirit that gets too close to Jin Zixuan’s blade quickly explodes into dust. The second one meets the same fate, and the third too. Jin Zixuan fights well , Jiang Cheng thinks deliriously, still struggling against Wei Wuxian. He’s not reckless or stupid unless you taunt him like Jiang Cheng does. He’s used to practicing on training dummies or respectful senior disciples, but now he’s cutting a swath through the crowd of spirits as they lunge at him.

It isn’t enough. An enormous ghoul looms up out of the mass, and it lurches forward with its arms outstretched towards Jin Zixuan, who is distracted by a horde of small, swarming spirits. Jiang Cheng barely registers Wei Wuxian’s hands releasing his shoulders, his voice hissing Go in his ear, but one second he’s in the tree and the next he’s on the ground, running, Sandu cutting through the closest spirits like water.

“I’m here,” he shouts, his voice ragged even to his own ears, but when Jin Zixuan’s eyes meet his over the frenzy, the relief that breaks across his face sends a red-hot whip of energy through Jiang Cheng’s body. 

There’s still too much distance between them, and the resentment is almost overwhelming, like a choking cloud of black smoke. Jiang Cheng fights the urge to clap his hand over his mouth and instead focuses on slaughtering as many spirits as he can. They are everywhere, climbing over each other, cackling and clawing and dragging themselves inexorably forward, and for every one Jiang Cheng cuts down, there are at least seven to take its place.

“Jiang Cheng!” shouts Jin Zixuan’s voice, high and scared from somewhere in front of him, obscured by the bodies of ghouls piling up, and Jiang Cheng panics. He throws himself forward, feels the nails of a ghost score across his cheek in a white-hot flare of pain, but he doesn’t care, because he slices down three creatures and then there before him is Jin Zixuan with his back up against the boundary, terror in his eyes as the giant ghoul brings its fist down, and it’s too late. It’s too late, and all Jiang Cheng can do is watch in horror, too many ghouls between him and Jin Zixuan, and he cannot save him, he is going to have to watch him die—

A blur of gold streaks across Jiang Cheng’s vision, and then the fist falls. He’s lunging forward, lungs raw, Sandu outstretched to skewer the ghoul from behind, and he can feel it sag and collapse as his blade strikes true, but oh, oh no, its body tips to the side and there is so much blood. Golden fabric wet and slick with blood. Jiang Cheng’s knees meet the ground. Jin Zixuan’s pale, wan face looking up at him—

Wait. Jin Zixuan is looking at him. His mouth is moving. He’s saying something. Everything feels fuzzy. Jiang Cheng blinks hard and tries to focus, and then he realizes that Jin Zixuan is not crumpled on the ground, he is doubled over and clutching something swathed in golden robes. What is he saying? 

Jin Zixuan draws in a great raggedy gasp. “Mianmian,” he chokes, and then it resolves in an instant in Jiang Cheng’s eye, as he sees, suddenly, that Jin Zixuan is holding the bloodied body of Luo Qingyang.

Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng’s hands still won’t stop trembling, even as he clenches them into fists and forces himself to take several deep breaths.

The end of the night hunt was a blur of images—a distress signal flare in the panicked hands of Madame Jin, stumbling out of the gold tent; Jin and Wen cultivators slicing through the hordes of spirits; Wei Wuxian scribbling talismans, slamming his hands into the boundary wall and shoving energy into it alongside several Jin cultivators until it buckles; Jin Zixuan crumpling against Jiang Cheng as the medics carry Mianmian away; Jin Guangshan bellowing at Jin Zixun, whose face is pale as he shrinks back; Wei Wuxian’s arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders, ushering him down the main path towards the great hall; Jin Zixuan still in the clearing behind him, wrapped in Madame Jin’s crushing embrace. 

And now Jiang Cheng stands in the main hall beside Wei Wuxian as cultivators trickle in, whispering and shooting bewildered glances his way. Jin Zixuan is alive. Mianmian is dead, or close to it. Jiang Cheng’s head throbs, distantly. What went wrong? The mob of spirits, the closed boundary, Mianmian's blood everywhere— 

Something grazes his hand. Jiang Cheng flinches away violently before he realizes it’s just Wei Wuxian, looking at him with concern.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I promise it’s all going to work out.” 

Jiang Cheng shoots him a look of utter disbelief. Trusting Wei Wuxian and his idiotic plan was what got them into this mess in the first place, but before he can say so, the door bangs open behind him and Jin Guangshan sweeps into the room. Madame Jin and Jin Zixuan follow, the former looking murderous, the latter wearing an expression of shell-shock that makes Jiang Cheng's heart ache. There are still traces of blood on Jin Zixuan’s robe, he notes as they move past, but Jin Zixuan seems to be past the point of caring.

Jin Guangshan reaches the platform at the front of the room and whirls around to face the cultivators gathered before him. He pauses a moment—Jiang Cheng can't help but think that he's enjoying the attention, judging from the tiny smile twitching on his lips—and then he announces, “The night hunt was sabotaged." Before the shocked silence can turn into gasps and whispers, he adds, “The culprit has been found. Rest assured, justice will be delivered.” 

As the moment stretches on and it becomes clear that Jin Guangshan is not going to elaborate, Jiang Cheng suddenly recalls the pale face of Jin Zixun. Wei Wuxian quivers beside him, and a glance tells Jiang Cheng that he’s trying very hard not to laugh. Oh. If a member of the main Jin family was found to be responsible, of course Jin Guangshan wouldn’t want that to be common knowledge. But is Jin Zixun really smart enough, Jiang Cheng wonders, to pull off something like this?  He always comes across as a little bit of a bumbling idiot.

“Luckily,” Jin Guangshan continues, yanking Jiang Cheng out of his thoughts, “nobody was killed. Only one cultivator is currently being treated for injuries, and she’s expected to make a full recovery.”

Shock hits Jiang Cheng in full force, and the only thing that keeps his knees from giving out is the way Wei Wuxian grips his bicep. Beside his father, Jin Zixuan's face goes chalky white as he sags against his mother, relief blossoming across his face. Jiang Cheng wishes fervently he could be alone with him for just a few moments, or at least close enough to touch his hand and let him know that he’s not alone in the tidal wave of emotion sweeping over him. 

“Jin Guangshan.” 

With a sudden feeling of slow-creeping dread, Jiang Cheng turns to see Wen Chao approaching the front of the room with Wen Zhuliu following, a dark shadow in his wake. Wen Chao looks slightly shaken but still very much like his usual sneering and haughty self, and the disgust in his tone borders on disrespect. Out of the corner of his eye, Jiang Cheng sees Jin Guangshan frown. 

“Do you mean to tell me that not only was this night hunt sabotaged on the Jin clans’s watch, you have also allowed my maid to be… damaged?” Wen Chao sneers as he reaches the front of the room. 

Jiang Cheng’s stomach lurches, and he takes a step forward, one hand on Sandu, before he can stop himself. Wei Wuxian squeezes his arm and shakes his head minutely, and with gritted teeth, he forces himself to relax.

“Young Master Wen.” Jin Guangshan's eye twitches. The tiny smile from before is gone. “Luo Qingyang will need several days to recover from her injuries, and she will not be prepared to travel back to the Nightless City on the date you planned to depart.” 

All eyes turn to Wen Chao, who is glaring like he’s prepared to throw a tantrum right here in the main hall of Carp Tower. But then—

“Luo Qingyang will not be returning to Qishan with you.” 

Jin Zixuan has pulled himself up to his full height and stepped away from Madame Jin, who looks just as shocked as Jin Guangshan to hear his son’s declaration. As everyone watches, Jin Zixuan steps forward to stand beside his father, squaring his shoulders and meeting Wen Chao's gaze with his chin lifted.

“She will not be going with you now, nor will she ever be going with you against her will.”

Wen Chao is actually stunned into silence for one glorious moment. “What did you just say?” he manages finally, and it’s Jin Zixuan’s turn to sneer.

“I said, Luo Qingyang is staying here. With the Jin clan, where she is a respected senior cultivator.” He clears his throat and for a heart-stopping second he meets Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “And my friend.” If he lingers on the word, nobody but Jiang Cheng seems to notice. 

Wen Chao is sputtering, but Jin Guangshan is the first one to speak up. “Jin Zixuan,” he begins, sounding indignant, but his son raises his hand. The audacity of his gesture actually shocks his father into speechlessness.

“Father,” he says, sounding more forceful than Jiang Cheng has ever heard him. “Luo Qingyang saved my life. I will not do her the disservice of treating her as anything less than a hero of the Jin. She is a luminous example of loyalty. And so is Jiang Wanyin, who fought valiantly for me.” He turns to address Wen Chao, leaving Jin Guangshan slack-jawed beside him. “Wen Chao. You forget yourself. To disrespect my friend and I is to disrespect the future of the Lanling Jin, and that is not something we can tolerate.”

Wen Chao’s face goes from white to red to a gratifying shade of purple in the span of a few seconds. It’s entertaining to watch. “You,” he spits, “are walking a very dangerous line, Jin Zixuan. The friendship of the Wen clan is not easily bought, and my goodwill is running out.”

"As is mine." Jin Zixuan looks unimpressed. It’s a look that Jiang Cheng is familiar with, and it makes a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "We have treated the Wen clan with the utmost respect, and yet your friendship with us is tenuous at best. You overstep.” His eyes flicker back to Jiang Cheng, and warmth curls in the pit of his stomach. “We have other friends who will support us in your stead, if you choose to sever our relationship.”

Wen Chao rocks back, anger and a flash of fear twisting across his face as he follows the arc of Jin Zixuan’s gaze. “Obligation through marriage is a fine sort of friendship, don’t you think?” he spits. “Would Clan Leader Jiang still be throwing his daughter your way if the Jiang clan weren’t so desperately in need of allies of their own?”

Withouut hesitating, Wei Wuxian unsheathes Suibian with a loud ringing noise. Several cultivators gasp, and even Wen Chao flinches. 

“If you say another word,” Wei Wuxian says clearly and pleasantly, “I’ll cut your tongue from your mouth. You will not dishonor the Yunmeng Jiang.”

Anger and adrenaline pump through Jiang Cheng. He is torn between grabbing Wei Wuxian’s arm while apologizing profusely and unsheathing Sandu as well. Wen Chao has fallen silent, looking smugly at Jin Guangshan as if to say See? Out of instinct, Jiang Cheng flicks his eyes to Jin Zixuan as the long moment of tense silence stretches out.

The sect heir is biting his lip, that familiar uneasy crease pushing down on his brow, and when Jiang Cheng sees it, something in his mind snaps into place. He remembers Wei Wuxian saying, I can think of issues it would solve. He remembers Jin Zixuan smiling at him, remembers Jin Zixuan saying, I want to spend my life with someone who chooses me. Jiang Cheng draws in a deep breath and calls on every ounce of sect heir manners that he has ever learned. He knows what he can do to fix this.

“Young Master Wen. Clan Leader Jin. Young Master Jin.” 

All the eyes in the room snap to him. Jiang Cheng forces a false half-smile to his lips and bows three times in succession, each one deeper than the last. “I apologize for Wei Wuxian.”

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says dangerously, under his breath. 

Jiang Cheng ignores him. “Yunmeng Jiang does not wish for an impersonal alliance with Lanling Jin. And Young Master Wen is correct.” 

Wen Chao looks like he can’t decide whether to be confused or furious. Jiang Cheng reminds himself to keep his face in its mask of perfect calm, and he plunges forward. 

“An arranged marriage, where at least one party directly involved has no choice in the matter, would breed only animosity and grudging relations. And that is not what the Jiang sect is here to offer.” He moves forward and mounts the steps leading to the front of the room where Jin Zixuan is flanked by his parents, standing stock-still and looking at Jiang Cheng with an expression of comical shock. As he gets closer, Jiang Cheng can see how red his lower lip is from chewing on it, and how the ends of his hair are still matted with blood. He has never looked so handsome. 

“Sect Heir Jin,” Jiang Cheng says, not taking his eyes off Jin Zixuan. “If you are amenable, I would like to offer you my own proposal of marriage.”

In the moment of stillness that follows his words, Jiang Cheng sees the way Jin Zixuan’s lips part around a tiny gasp, the way his eyes soften. There is no disgust, no moment of recoil; just something that looks an awful lot like hope flickering in Jin Zixuan’s face. Jiang Cheng’s heart feels like a vicious creature trying to struggle its way out of his chest. I’m choosing you, he thinks fiercely. I’m choosing you on my own terms, and you can refuse me. I want everyone to know it. 

All hell breaks loose. The cultivators crowding the hall burst into shouts of surprise, jostling each other in their confusion. Wen Chao's voice, slightly hysterical, is shouting something unintelligible. Jiang Cheng is pretty sure Wei Wuxian is laughing. Only Jin Guangshan's booming baritone manages to carry through the hubbub.

"Jiang Wanyin!" he thunders. "What is the meaning of this?"

Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath and forces himself to tear his eyes away from Jin Zixuan’s tiny incandescent smile. “Sect Leader Jin,” he says with as much respect as he can pour into the title. “The Yunmeng Jiang and the Lanling Jin already have plans to be joined in a marriage alliance. But since Young Master Wen has called into doubt the mutual interest of both parties in this arrangement, I want to clarify—I, Jiang Wanyin, the Jiang sect heir, wish to marry directly into the Jin sect to demonstrate and solidify the extent to which our clans’ futures are intertwined.” He pauses to catch his breath, hoping he sounded more sure of himself than he feels. Jin Guangshan doesn’t look angry anymore—just utterly baffled. 

“But—Jiang Yanli…”

Jiang Cheng crosses his arms. “The marriage arrangement between my sister and Jin Zixuan was made when neither was old enough to decide their future for themselves,” he says firmly. “Isn’t it more meaningful to be bound through devotion rather than obligation?” He sort of regrets the word devotion as it leaves his mouth, praying the heat that rises to his cheeks isn't visible. But before Jin Guangshan can say anything else, Jin Zixuan is pivoting smoothly to stand next to Jiang Cheng, their shoulders brushing. 

“The direct union of two sect leaders cannot be anything but beneficial to both clans,” he snaps in his usual haughty tone, which brooks no room for disagreement. Jiang Cheng has bristled at that tone more times than he can count, but now it sends a hot flood of relief through him, along with a sharp spike of something much more dangerous and joyful.

Jin Guangshan hesitates, and only then does Jiang Cheng realize that the entire hall has gone dead silent. “I don’t understand,” he says, and to Jiang Cheng’s horror, there is a rough undercurrent of hostility beneath the confusion in his words. “Jin Zixuan—this is absurd." He squints at his son, who flinches but doesn't take a step back. "You need to produce a blood heir to the Jin sect!”

Jin Zixuan is pale, but he straightens up and draws his hands out of his sleeves, smoothing down the front of his robes in what Jiang Cheng realizes is a gesture meant to ground himself. “Father, I—"

“Is that your only qualm?”

Madame Jin’s voice cuts through the air like a knife. Jiang Cheng blinks. He had completely forgotten that she has been standing next to them this whole time, wringing her hands. Now she has her shoulders thrown back and her nose in their air, an eerie reflection of Jin Zixuan’s usual posture. So that’s where he learned it.  

Jin Guangshan blanches at his wife's words and takes a faltering step back. “I—no, there’s also—he—the Jin—"

Madame Jin interrupts him with a sneer. “It seems to me that the only difference between a marriage to Jiang Yanli or to Jiang Wanyin is that one of them is their sect's heir. And,” she adds more quietly, glancing at Jin Zixuan out of the corner of her eye, “our son has objected to one and not the other.”

Jin Guangshan is thrown off; Jiang Cheng can see it in the way he sways a little as he struggles for a response. “They cannot produce children together,” he says finally, weakly. 

Madame Jin’s eyes snap with steel. Jiang Cheng is reminded suddenly that she and his own mother were raised in the same clan. “The faithful blood lineage of the Jin is so important to you?” she hisses. A furious flush sweeps across Jin Guangshan’s face, but as he glances out at the shocked cultivators watching this argument play out, the look that crosses his features is not the anger that Jiang Cheng was expecting—it's fear.

“You…" he begins and then fumbles for a moment before he appears to run out of words. A pause fills the air, and then he ducks his head a little, a concession to the silence. 

Jiang Cheng stares in surprise. The vague memory of a rumor tickles the back of his mind—Jin Guangshan’s unfaithfulness, whispers of dismissed maids and illegitimate children. Perhaps Madame Jin has more power than he was aware.

“ This is ridiculous!” 

Jiang Cheng glances over to find Wen Chao storming up the stairs towards them. He can practically feel his heart sink as Wen Chao brandishes an accusatory finger. “Jin Guangshan, don’t tell me you’re interested in this—this mockery of a proposal.” His face is bright red, and a vein throbs in his forehead. 

Jiang Cheng can feel Jin Zixuan tense beside him, but before Wen Chao can get any closer, Madame Jin moves smoothly to step into his path. “Second Young Master Wen,” she says icily, “I don’t recall anyone asking for your input on this matter.”

Wen Chao freezes. His eyes practically bulge out of his head. "What?" 

Madame Jin only lifts an unamused eyebrow. Wen Chao gawks at her for a moment before he swivels towards Jin Guangshan—a mistake, Jiang Cheng thinks, judging by the way the Jin sect leader seems to shrink into himself as his wife glares his way. But Wen Chao plows forward, stomping closer to the Jin sect leader, eyes wild.

"Jin Guangshan," he snarls, “you’re just going to stand there and let your wife whore your son out as a cutsleeve?” 

Everyone in the room seems to pause for a collective intake of breath. Even Wen Zhuliu’s eyebrows inch towards his hairline. Jiang Cheng is suddenly hyperaware of Jin Zixuan next to him. Wen Chao has insulted him in front of his own parents, but instead of tensing up like Jiang Cheng expects, Jin Zixuan's shoulders slouch in relief for half a second, and the tiny movement sends a wave of reassurance through Jiang Cheng. 

Jin Zixuan isn’t worried. Wen Chao has played his whole hand, and he has nothing left but petty names and obscenities to throw at them. We won, Jiang Cheng thinks, elation bubbling in his chest, and then, not yet. Not quite yet. Stay calm.

“Wen Chao.” Madame Jin clasps her hands in front of her and smiles beatifically, terrifyingly. “I’m going to have to ask you and your entire delegation to leave the Jin compound. Perhaps the Jin-Wen alliance can be reforged sometime soon when the Wen representative is willing to treat the Jin as equals rather than…" she pauses, and her gaze sweeps the crowd. "... prostitutes.” Jin Guangshan actually flinches at that. 

Wen Chao looks like he might actually be about to protest further, but suddenly Wen Zhuliu is at his side, bowing so deeply his forehead brushes the floor. 

“Madame Jin and Sect Leader Jin,” he says gravely. “We thank you deeply for your hospitality thus far. We hope to host you at Qishan in the future.” His hand shoots out and grasps Wen Chao’s wrist, dragging him down into a graceless bow. “My young master thanks you.”

Wen Chao grumbles something unintelligible as he is forced down, but Jiang Cheng sees the fear on his face as he sinks to his knees. Jiang Cheng can't blame him. He also wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of a Yu clan cultivator's anger. Madame Jin must have charitably chosen to interpret Wen Chao's mumble as some sort of apology, because her sickly smile returns.

“Farewell Second Young Master Wen. Wen Zhuliu.” She nods to her husband, who echos her and bows shallowly. Wen Zhuliu rises without releasing Wen Chao, and the two of them edge backwards towards the exit. The Wen cultivators in red are all glancing around at each other with uncertainty, but once Wen Chao and his bodyguard have stepped out the doors, they quietly file out after them one by one. 

Once the last flash of red fabric has disappeared through the doors and the murmurs have started up again, Madame Jin interrupts by clapping her hands. “Now,” she says loudly, “this is a joyful day! My son, the heir to the Jin sect, is going to be married!” She says it with such aplomb that the murmurs slowly rise in pitch, mumbles of assent and agreement echoing through the gathering. “Of course, there are negotiations and many months worth of planning to be done… but there is no reason why an alliance as wonderful as this should not be celebrated.” 

To Jiang Cheng's complete and utter surprise—and Jin Zixuan's too, judging by the way he freezes—Madame Jin turns and flings her arms around the two of them, yanking them to her chest. 

“Yu Ziyuan and I always wanted our children to be happy together,” she whispers. Before Jiang Cheng can react, she draws back and grasps her husband’s arm. 

“A celebration,” says Jin Guangshan quickly, with as much conviction as if he’d thought of it himself. His self-satisfied smile is back on his face, the humiliation of the last few minutes wiped clean from his expression. “Tonight’s banquet will be a memorable one! Lanling Jin will prepare the finest dishes for our cultivators and guests!" 

Jiang Cheng resists the urge to roll his eyes. How very Jin—to turn the botched night hunt celebration into an engagement party and make it seem like it was on purpose. 

“There are preparations to be made, so you are all dismissed,” Jin Guangshan continues, and Jiang Cheng only has time to glance once at Jin Zixuan—startled but smiling, face softening as his eyes meet Jiang Cheng’s—before his mother has swept him up and hauled him off, presumably to his rooms to prepare for the banquet.

The murmurs in the hall rise to a full-on din as the Jin cultivators buzz with excitement, nobody quite ready to leave just yet. They have more than enough drama and intrigue to keep them sated until at least the end of the year, Jiang Cheng thinks as he watches Wei Wuxian fight through the crowd to get close enough to grab his arm.

“You’re insane, you know?” he says breathlessly, admiringly. “I had no idea you were so dramatic. Holy shit, that worked.” He pauses as if steadying himself. "And Madame Jin is a badass."

Jiang Cheng surrendered to the urge to roll his eyes but fights back the desire to grin. He's still standing at the front of the main hall within plain sight of all the Jin cultivators. It's not over yet. “Lower your voice before I punch you. It was your idea anyway.”

“Um.” Wei Wuxian looks amazed, but he obediently drops his voice lower. “Let's get this straight. It was not my idea to propose to Jin Zixuan in front of his parents and Wen Chao and basically every Jin cultivator ever.” He bumps Jiang Cheng’s shoulder and offers him a smile. “That was all you.” He pauses and then adds modestly, “I did have a pretty big hand in everything else, though.”

Jiang Cheng frowns. “Yeah. About that. Mind explaining what the hell was going on with your plan?”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes sparkle. “With pleasure. I think there’s someone we need to pay a visit. Wanna get out of here?”

____________________________________________________________________________

Jiang Cheng wasn’t expecting Mianmian to look so—well, so okay. Aside from dark circles under her eyes that were already present at the banquet, plus a few white bandages visible beneath her robes, she doesn’t appear to be harmed. Also contrary to his expectations, there isn’t a swarm of doctors monitoring her vital signs to bring her back from the brink of death. When Jiang Cheng enters her room behind Wei Wuxian, she’s alone and already sitting up to stare out the window, drumming on knee impatiently.

“You’ve certainly kept me waiting long enough,” she sniffs when he enters. “Your message—" she breaks off when she sees Jiang Cheng, and her eyes go wide. “Did something happen?”

Wei Wuxian beams. “Only the wildest spontaneous proposal to ever take place in Lanling Jin.”

Mianmian vaults out of bed and seizes Jiang Cheng’s hands before he can stop her. “No! Without me?”

Jiang Cheng is horrified. "What are you doing out of bed?"

Mianmian stares at him for a startled moment, and then she tips back her head in a laugh. "Wei Wuxian! You didn't tell him?"

"Tell me what." Jiang Cheng freezes and levels a glare at his brother. Wei Wuxian offers him a sheepish smile.

"I thought he'd like to hear the whole story from the beginning."

Mianmian grins and points at Wei Wuxian. "Check the silencing wards first. And come over here, Jiang Cheng." She fluffs a pillow on her bed and plumps down, patting the space beside her. "You might want to be sitting down."

The plan went something like this: within a few hours, Wei Wuxian had quickly figured out how to create a talisman to distract Wen Chao during the night hunt. He had also almost immediately realized that he needed a backup because his talisman would be useless if Mianmian wasn't permitted to join the other cultivators on the hunt. "Which I wasn't," Mianmian adds with a sniff. "They had bodyguards following me. It would almost be an honor if it wasn't so offensive."

"Hold on." Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at Wei Wuxian. "Why didn't you tell me any of this?" Two days for a pretty strong cultivator to design a powerful talisman makes sense, but two days to make a powerful talisman and a backup contingency—well, Jiang Cheng already knew his brother was a genius, but he still finds himself surprised. And a little hurt that he wasn't included. 

Wei Wuxian flaps his hand. "I'm going to get to that," he says with a smiling. "You need to learn to be patient." 

After he'd put the finishing touches on his first talisman, Wei Wuxian had snuck out at night to explore the area where the night hunt was supposed to take place. It wasn't dangerous, he explained to a dubious Jiang Cheng—the spirits hadn't been released yet because the hunt had been planned on such a short notice, so they were still being rounded up. 

As Wei Wuxian was trekking through the forest, he noticed curious traces of spiritual energy emanating from the trees. He’d chalked it up to some weird Jin resentment-sealing trick, but instead of leaving it alone, he decided to poke around.

“And guess what I found when I scaled a tree?” Wei Wuxian doesn’t wait for Jiang Cheng to try to answer. “That Wen Chao is a dirty cheater! He planted wards all over the treetops to draw the spirits to Jin Zixuan. He was probably planning to finish it by sticking some marking talisman on his back right before the hunt began, too.”

Jiang Cheng suddenly remembers Wen Chao stepping out of the tent, casting a significant look at Jin Zixuan. Things are about to get interesting. He shudders before he can stop himself. 

“They were trying to kill him?”

Wei Wuxian looks thoughtful. “I don’t think so. I believe they wanted to make Jin Zixuan look weak. To humiliate him and his father.”

Even though the hunt is over and done with, Jiang Cheng still feels his jaw clench. “Please tell me you brought back the evidence,” he snarls.

Wei Wuxian grins. “Ah, Jiang Cheng, you think the Wen are that stupid?” He pauses. “Wen Chao might be. But Wen Ruohan is no fool, and neither is Wen Zhuliu. The wards I saw were incendiary. They burned to ashes as soon as I touched them.” 

With horror, Jiang Cheng imagines trying to defend his brother’s word against Wen Chao’s. There’s no way Jin Guangshan would believe Wei Wuxian, even if his own son was badly wounded. 

"Anyway!" Wei Wuxian says brightly, snapping Jiang Cheng out of his funk. "I'm not even at the good part yet."

Instead of tearing down all the wards—which would have been impossible to do before someone noticed him tramping around the night hunt grounds—Wei Wuxian had built on them. He'd spent hours in their room perfecting a temporary summoning talisman that would draw the spirits towards the outskirts of the bounds until—

"Until Jin Zixuan tried to cross them," Jiang Cheng finishes in surprise. "Were you—" he swallows hard, "—were you the one who trapped him inside the boundary?"

Wei Wuxian's smile slips away, replaced by a look of genuine hurt. "Of course not! That was a part of the wards too, to keep Jin Zixuan inside—or anyone else from the Jin main family outside, since it was a blood-based talisman. Only if his spiritual strength was significantly depleted could he pass through." He sighs. "I think they assumed he'd have to be carried out of the woods after the spirits were done with him."

Jiang Cheng doesn't want to think about what could have happened to Jin Zixuan. "So then, what did you do to the boundaries?"

"Honestly, nothing." The hurt look slips away, and Wei Wuxian offers an apologetic shrug. "Once I was sure I knew how to reverse the wards, I left them up."

" Why? " Jiang Cheng explodes. "He nearly died! Mianmian nearly died!" 

There is a soft cough next to him. He swivels to look at Mianmian, who is blushing a little. "I, ah, didn't nearly die."

"What!" Jiang Cheng recoils, staring. "You did! I saw it!" 

"You think you did!" says Wei Wuxian cheerfully. "That's the other part I added."

"Hold on." Jiang Cheng shakes his head like he's trying to clear water out of his ears. "You did—you what?"

Mianmian straightens up and takes a deep breath. "Let me explain."

Wei Wuxian had sent his little paper cutout into the golden Jin tent just as Jin Guangshan emerged to give his long pre-hunt speech. Not quite a cultivator, not quite a maid, Mianmian had been left behind by her Wen bodyguards right before the night hunt started, her only company being Jin Guangshan and Wen Chao until Jin Zixuan had ducked back in the tent to summon the two of them outside. Once Jin Guangshan had taken a final swig of liquor and swaggered out the door after Wen Chao, Jin Zixuan had cast a furtive look around and then, to Mianmian's complete and utter bafflement, he had begun to remove his outer robe.

"Jin Zixuan, what the—"

"Lower your voice," he had hissed. "I have something for you." And without further preamble, he'd dropped her sword into her lap. 

Before Mianmian had time to gape and ask questions, he'd thrown his robe back on and hurried out the door. As she sat there in total shock, Wei Wuxian's paper person had slipped under the tent flap and perched on her shoulder. In Wei Wuxian's voice, it explained the plan. Wen Chao would draw the spirits to himself, and in the chaos of the mob, Mianmian would be able to escape to the Yu sect—due west by sword for two days' travel. Before he had finished explaining, she was already shaking her head.

"I can't leave Jin Zixuan," she'd whispered. "And I can't escape. Wen Chao has bodyguards following me. Plus, how do I even know the Yu will welcome me?"

Wei Wuxian had been silent for a moment. "You don't," he'd said finally. "But the only other way of escape is much riskier."

Mianmian touched the sheep engraved in the hilt of her sword and thought about what Jin Zixuan must have gone through to get it for her. "Tell me."

And so the backup plan was set in motion. The night hunt spirits were nowhere to be found until suddenly they were attacking Jin Zixuan. The barrier kept Jin Zixuan in, and since he was a close blood relative, it also kept Jin Guangshan out, helpless as his son faced the barrage. It was comically easy to plant spirit-summoning talismans on Jin Zixun, which fluttered out at just the right time after the boundary fell and the rest of the cultivators poured out of the woods. Experimentation gone wrong, a jealous cousin, a foolish accident—the story practically wrote itself, and the Jiang came off completely blameless.

"I don't understand." Jiang Cheng wants to punch something, or maybe sag back onto the bed in exhaustion. "You knew how the wards worked. You knew Jin Zixuan was going to be attacked. Why didn't you stop it?"

Wei Wuxian shoots him a look of disbelief. "Jiang Cheng. Use your brain. Why do you think Mianmian is here right now instead of following Wen Chao back to the Nightless City?"

"Because she's injured…" 

The words die on Jiang Cheng's tongue. He shoots a glance at Mianmian, who looks no worse than she did on the first day they arrived in Carp Tower. She smiles back at him.

"How…?"

Wei Wuxian sighs. "I see I have to spell it all out for you," he says pityingly in a tone that makes Jiang Cheng want to shove him. "Jin Guangshan doesn't care about a lot of things that aren't himself , but he does care about his son. Or at least, he cares about his own legacy. So when Jin Zixuan was attacked, who stepped in to save him?"

"Mianmian." Jiang Cheng blinks in surprise. "So. Jin Guangshan wants to keep her here. Did he lie to everyone at the meeting in the main hall when he said that she was too injured to leave?"

Wei Wuxian hums. "I wouldn't say that. The Jin medics may have been persuaded to… exaggerate the truth a little. That big ghoul was quite an illusion, wasn't it?" He cracks his knuckles. "Some of my best work. It really looked like Mianmian took a blow to the gut, huh? The fake blood was a nice touch."

Jiang Cheng's head swivels to Mianmian—who doesn't look like someone who recently received a life-ending punch from a massive ghoul—and back to Wei Wuxian. "You staged all that ?"

Wei Wuxian nods. "It was actually the easy part. Red dye in water, some dramatic illusion spells…" he whistles. "Plus, Mianmian's a good actor! Anyway." He clears his throat. "Jin Guangshan didn't deny Wen Chao his horrible power play just because he cared about Mianmian's well-being, or whatever. Mianmian is valuable to Jin Guangshan now, because she did this flashy heroic thing to save his son. Good publicity for Jin cultivators." He leans forward to flick a bewildered Jiang Cheng in the forehead. "Also, you got the answer wrong. It wasn't just Mianmian who stepped in to save Jin Zixuan, remember?"

Jiang Cheng blinks and claps a hand to his forehead indignantly. He opens his mouth to retort that yes, it was just Mianmian, that Wen Chao had been simpering safely outside the boundary, that Jiang Cheng had seen it happen, and then he realizes.

"Oh." He swallows. "I…was there too."

Wei Wuxian claps his hands delightedly. "Exactly! And then guess what? Jin Guangshan had to choose! An alliance with the Wens, or… not an alliance with the Wens. But the latter is a lot sweeter if the Wen clan has been kicking you around all week and you just saw proof of a loyal alternative in the Jiang sect." He wiggles his eyebrows. "A very loyal alternative. And even if Jin Guangshan is too stupid, Madame Jin can see the wisdom in a marriage between sect heirs."

Jiang Cheng is still trying to wrap his head around the enormity of his brother's scheming. "You—all of this was your plan?"

"I told you, the proposal was all yours." Wei Wuxian folds his hands behind his head and winks. "But there were parts of it I saw coming."

Jiang Cheng gapes at him. He suddenly remembers Wei Wuxian saying, If you’re going to be reckless, let me help you. Wei Wuxian saying, I never told you not to go jumping into danger for the sake of Jin Zixuan. Wei Wuxian's hand on his shoulder. Please trust me, just wait for my signal.

Jiang Cheng is reeling, staggering up against the wall. Wei Wuxian saw right through him all along. He had known Jiang Cheng would throw himself into danger for Jin Zixuan, and he knew it would look real. Because it was real. 

"How did you know?" he demands. "How did you know I would try to save him?"

Wei Wuxian looks at him in surprise for a long moment and then tips his head back to laugh. "Jiang Cheng! You're easier to read than Lan calligraphy. You think I didn't notice all the times you went out to spar with him in the evenings? How you stare at him during banquets? The way you get flustered and embarrassed every time he stands close to you?"

Jiang Cheng wants to hit Wei Wuxian hard. Or—or—do something. Anything other than just standing here and blinking and trying to think of how he can deny any of this because Wei Wuxian was right, he did leap into danger to save Jin Zixuan without thinking twice, and he would have done it sooner if Wei Wuxian hadn't held him back to get the timing right in order to show off for Jin Guangshan. The excuses that Jiang Cheng usually reaches for—honor, decency, the Jin-Jiang alliance, his sister's sake—have somehow all evaporated over the course of the last few days. Because… because he and Jin Zixuan…

"Don't worry so much," Mianmian says, sounding only a little bit like she's trying to hold back a laugh as her mouth ticks upward at the corners. "He likes you too."

Jiang Cheng is scowling at her before he can even fully process her words. "What do you—who said—I don't—"

"Hey, it's fine!" Mianmian's hands shoot up defensively, but her smile stays fixed in place. "He's just as oblivious as you, really. Ever since the Cloud Recesses, he's been watching you Jiang cultivators." Her hands drop and her grin widens. "That's how he knew to go in through the window of the Jiang sect room—he saw you do it countless times at Gusu, Wei Wuxian."

"Me?" Wei Wuxian pretends to look put-out. "I was an ideal student. How could Jin Zixuan blame his delinquency on me?"

"Shut up." Jiang Cheng is leaning against the bed now for balance. His head is spinning. "Why would Jin Zixuan be watching us?"

Mianmian sighs, a little impatient. "He was watching you. He saw you sneak out to practice at night in the disciple training grounds because he's been following you around like a lovesick puppy. Ever since you arrived, my every conversation with him has been about you. Jiang Wanyin this, Jiang Wanyin that." Her voice drops a pitch or two. "'Mianmian, did you see Jiang Wanyin making a fool of himself laughing during dinner?' 'What rude things did Jiang Wanyin say to you when you showed him the gardens today?' 'Does Jiang Wanyin care at all about how indecent he looks when he trains in those tight robes?'" She laughs at Jiang Cheng's expression. "What, you didn't notice his attention?"

"I thought—I didn't—I thought the Jiang weren't good enough for him," Jiang Cheng manages. He feels genuinely dizzy. "A-jie is the best of us, and he—he didn't want her."

Wei Wuxian's eyes are sparkling. "Maybe he was too busy looking at someone else."

Before Jiang Cheng can say anything else or even begin to untangle this whole mess in his head, the sound of rapidly-approaching footsteps become audible. Mianmian's eyes widen, and she barely has time to slump over on her bed in the approximation of illness before the doors are thrown open and Jin Zixuan barrels into the room.

"Mianmian!" he shouts, and then stops dead when he sees Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng standing next to her bedside. "I—you aren't—"

"Jin Zixuan!" Mianmian springs back to life as she throws off her blankets and climbs out of bed to meet him. Her eyes are shining. "You—how did you get here? You look like a mess!"

Jin Zixuan blinks, owlish. His perfect hairdo is half-collapsed, hair spiling over his face. His robes are flapping open around him, and his cheeks are flushed from the exertion of sprinting across the Jin complex. "My mother was hounding me the second we left the hall. She followed me all the way back to my rooms trying to decide what I should wear this evening. I only managed to get away when she was distracted by some servants asking about banquet plans…she’s going to notice I'm gone any minute, and I need to be back right away but—" he takes a drifting step towards Mianmian, "—I had to make sure you were…"

"Still alive?" Mianmian smiles at him. "I'm fine, Jin Zixuan. I promise. Look at me."

Jin Zixuan's eyes are still huge. "I see," he says, voice wobbling, and then to Jiang Cheng's surprise, he buries his face in his hands and lets out a rattling sob. "Mianmian—I was so scared—"

"Jin Zixuan!" Mianmian seems just as nonplussed as Jiang Cheng. She hurries closer and after only a moment's hesitation, draws him into a stiff hug. "I'm fine, idiot."

"You were dead," Jin Zixuan says, muffled in her shoulder. "I—there was so much blood, and you died for me—"

Mianmian squeezes her eyes shut. "I'd do it again," she says roughly, and Jiang Cheng realizes she's fighting back tears of her own. "But I didn't die. I'm here, and I'm alive."

"How? " chokes out Jin Zixuan. "You—" 

"Shh." Mianmian pushes her face into his shoulder. "I'll explain it all, okay? Just—give me a moment."

Wei Wuxian's hand falls on Jiang Cheng's arm. "We should leave them," he says softly, and Jiang Cheng nods. Quietly, they move towards the door—warded over with silencing talismans, Jiang Cheng notes as they pass through. Wei Wuxian thought of everything.

"You're not jealous, are you?" Wei Wuxian says teasingly as they walk down the long winding Jin corridors towards their own rooms. "Mianmian got a hug from your future husband before you did."

Jiang Cheng scoffs at that, but then the phrase future husband catches up with him, and he stumbles a little. It’s real now. "I—I wouldn't…you… shut up."

Wei Wuxian laughs delightedly. "Can I still call him peacock? Or is that your private pet name for him now?"

There's nobody around in the hallway, so Jiang Cheng permits himself to smack Wei Wuxian's arm really hard. Over his brother's loud whine of pain, he says, "Listen. Nothing's going to change, all right? I'm not choosing Jin Zixuan over you."

Wei Wuxian pauses in his exaggerated sniveling to look at him reproachfully. "Jiang Cheng. I know that."

"Do you?" Jiang Cheng looks away and stops walking. "I know how much you dislike him. How much I disliked him until—a few days ago." It feels like years. "I just—I want you to know I won't—I'm not—"

"Jiang Cheng." Wei Wuxian grabs Jiang Cheng by his shoulders and shakes him a little. "Stop being stupid, okay? I disliked Jin Zixuan because he was mean to shijie. But guess what? He doesn't have to marry her anymore, and judging by the way he looks at you , I think he's ready to change his ways." 

Jiang Cheng bites the inside of his cheek. "You don't—if I marry him and move to Lanling, you and I—"

"Stop that right now." Wei Wuxian squeezes Jiang Cheng's shoulders fiercely. "You know we're always going to be best friends, right? No matter what? I don't care if you love that peacock as long as you're happy."

Jiang Cheng looks up at him in shock, and to his horror, he feels a familiar stinging behind his eyes. "Wei Wuxian…"

"You'd better not cry." Wei Wuxian's own eyes are suspiciously damp. He doesn't let go of Jiang Cheng's shoulders. "Shijie and I can cry at the wedding, but not now. That'd be embarrassing."

Jiang Cheng lunges forward and drags his brother into a bone-crushing hug, ignoring his yelp of surprise. "Thanks," he whispers, and something inside him feels like it is cut loose. "Thank you. For…all of this. For following me here."

Wei Wuxian draws back with a sniffle, but he's smiling. "Thank you for giving me the chance to humiliate Wen Chao and Jin Zixun. It was great." He scrubs at his face with his hands and takes a deep breath. "Well. We should head back to our chambers, huh? You have an engagement banquet to attend tonight."

"Right." Jiang Cheng sets his jaw and nods, and Wei Wuxian laughs. 

"What's with that look? It's a banquet, not a battle!"

"Every banquet is a war here in Lanling Jin." Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, and Wei Wuxian nudges him as they resume their stroll. 

"Okay. That's true, but not tonight. Look, I promise I'll give you the chance to sneak away."

"Sneak away?" Jiang Cheng shoots him a look of disbelief. "From my own engagement banquet?"

"You're crazy if you think there won't be an exorbitant amount of liquor," says Wei Wuxian airily. "Nobody will notice if you and your golden boy want to get a head start on the wedding night—"

Ears burning, Jiang Cheng shoves Wei Wuxian and takes off running. Laughing, Wei Wuxian follows him across the Carp Tower grounds, and for the first time since Jiang Cheng arrived in Lanling, he doesn't care who sees him grinning like a child.

____________________________________________________________________________

The Jin banquet hall looks beautiful. Everything is dripping in gold and splendor, from the guests to the dishes themselves, which are trimmed up and doused in rich sauces. Every cultivator is decked out in their finest robes, chattering enough to drown out any awkward conversation about the failed night hunt. The only subject on everyone's lips is the incredible news of the engagement between the Jiang sect heir and Jin Zixuan, who is seated opposite him at the end of a long table towards the front of the banquet hall. Jin Zixuan has clearly cleaned up since seeing Mianmian—who isn't present, still supposedly recovering from her injuries—but Jiang Cheng doesn’t dare to let his eyes linger too long. The cultivators gathered in the hall are casting enough interested glances at them already.

It would be utterly unbearable, he thinks for what must be the thousandth time, if it wasn't for Wei Wuxian. When Jin Guangshan makes his first speech of the night—something about alliances forever strong, about the love between sects being greater than any other bond—Wei Wuxian is on his feet almost right away, pulling Jiang Cheng up with him to toast his future father-in-law (agh!) and thank him a thousand times over for his generosity, for this lovely banquet, for the wonderful hospitality of the Jins and of course for the fantastic alcohol! That last part ekes a booming and surprisingly generous laugh out of Jin Guangshan, who Jiang Cheng suspects has already indulged in said alcohol earlier this evening. 

Jin Guangshan's urging for everyone to enjoy the food and drink are obeyed, quickly turning the atmosphere in the banquet hall from rowdy to downright raucous. It seems as though everyone is leaving their seats to greet a friend on the other side of the hall, or challenging someone at the next table to a drinking contest, or laughing too loud at a terrible joke. At least they stop gawking. 

Around halfway through the meal, Wei Wuxian squeezes Jiang Cheng's elbow and nods at an open balcony door not too far away from the table. "Good thing they opened the doors," Wei Wuxian says loudly, "since it's getting so hot in here. Don't you agree, Jin Zixuan?"

At the end of the table, Jin Zixuan's head snaps up. He’d been staring down at his plate, but now his eyes meet Wei Wuxian's and his lips part. "Ah. Um. Oh! Yes, it's far too hot in here." He stands up so quickly, he nearly knocks his cup over. "I think I'll get some air."

Instinctively, Jiang Cheng looks to Jin Guangshan, but he's half-slumped over the table, eyes closed, a contented smile twitching on his lips. Madame Jin has left the table to fuss at a servant about not clearing the last dishes away quickly enough, and the rest of the banquet attendees are all occupied with their own conversations drowning out the main table. Nobody stops Jin Zixuan from excusing himself and walking quickly towards the doors open to the cool night. As he passes behind Jiang Cheng, he pauses for only a second—just long enough for his golden sleeve to brush the back of Jiang Cheng’s  neck—before he continues on his way.

Jiang Cheng feels wild, like he might tear something apart if he has to sit still a moment longer. He can barely contain himself until Jin Zixuan disappears through the door, and then he shoots to his feet. 

"I think I'll get some air as well," he says to nobody, and he doesn't linger to scowl at Wei Wuxian's knowing grin. He forces himself to walk rather than run towards the door, hoping no cultivator sees him and decides to corner him for a useless interrogation on his engagement. But his luck holds; he slips out onto the balcony unnoticed. 

Outside, the night air is cool and refreshing, a contrast to the stuffy heat of the banquet hall. The sounds of the other guests fade away behind him as Jiang Cheng turns and sees Jin Zixuan waiting at the end of the balcony.

"Jiang Wanyin," Jin Zixuan says quietly, and Jiang Cheng winces. Right. They can never assume they are alone in Carp Tower, especially not now. "I trust you are enjoying yourself."

Jiang Cheng drifts closer. Finally, he permits himself to stare as much as he wants. Jin Zixuan practically glistens as he moves, decked out in elaborate and heavy-looking robes accentuated by a ridiculous amount of ornaments gleaming on his sleeves and collar and in his hair. In the half-light spilling out from the banquet hall it's hard to tell, but Jiang Cheng thinks he might have powdered his face. None of it distracts him from the gleam in Jin Zixuan's eyes as he looks back at him. 

Before he can think better of it, Jiang Cheng answers in a low voice, "I am now.” The way Jin Zixuan shivers a little—like he tried to suppress it and failed—sets something inside Jiang Cheng on fire. 

“Do you—" Jin Zixuan clears his throat and adjusts his sleeves like he's trying to regain his composure. "Ah. Do you happen to have your sword with you, Jiang Wanyin?"

"Of course." Jiang Cheng blinks as Jin Zixuan draws his own blade with shaky hands. "Do you… want to spar? Right here?"

"No!" Jin Zixuan laughs. Jiang Cheng thinks he will have dreams about that laugh. It makes every part of his body light up. "I was merely going to suggest a short flight. Care to join me?"

"I would like that," Jiang Cheng says, and he has to fight his own urge to blush when Jin Zixuan smiles at him. He quickly glances down and draws Sandu before kicking off into flight, and Jin Zixuan follows him into the dark night air.

"Where are we going?" Jiang Cheng shouts over the wind rushing around them. When Jin Zixuan shoots him a questioning look, he angles Sandu closer. They are moving up and away from the banquet hall, the Jin complex sprawling out below them as they rise.

 "I said, where are we going?"

Jin Zixuan smiles, soft and sweet, and moves even closer. "Where do you want to go?" he calls back.

Several locks of hair have escaped his elaborate hairdo, and they curl and waver across his face. Jiang Cheng feels the incredible urge to tuck them behind his ear. He realizes suddenly that he is close enough to reach out and touch Jin Zixuan’s face, that they are up here where nobody can see them. Maybe this was Jin Zixuan's intention all along.

"Anywhere," Jiang Cheng says softly, and with a rush of adrenaline, he surrenders to the urge to cup Zixuan's jaw. Jin Zixuan's eyes go wide, and then he draws in a shaky breath, shuts his eyes, and tilts his head into Jiang Cheng's hand. Jiang Cheng thinks maybe his heart is going to explode. 

"Anywhere," Jin Zixuan echoes, and he reaches out to touch Jiang Cheng's jaw. The brush of his fingers is light as a butterfly's wings. "With me?"

"Who else?" Jiang Cheng’s heartbeat is impossibly loud in his ears. Distantly, he wonders if he's going to fall off his sword. That would be the worst death he can imagine—to die now of all times. 

Jin Zixuan is still smiling. "Jiang Cheng,” he whispers, reverent. The name reverberates in the night air and in the silence now surrounding them, punctuated only by the wind. Never mind, Jiang Cheng thinks as he struggles to remember how to breathe. He could die now and it would be okay.

"A-Xuan,” he rasps back, and Jin Zixuan draws in a rushed breath, eyes dark. Before Jiang Cheng can do anything or say anything else, before he can pull away or take it back, Jin Zixuan's arms are around him, and his mouth is warm and soft. Jiang Cheng's hands are on his waist and he is kissing him back, clumsily, wobbling on his sword as Jin Zixuan sighs against his lips, and nothing in the universe could feel more right. 

Later, he thinks, he will take Jin Zixuan back to Yunmeng and show him the first lotus buds in spring. Later they will explain everything to Jiang Yanli, and she will laugh until she cries, and Wei Wuxian will crack dirty jokes, and Mianmian will poke fun at Jin Zixuan and make him blush, and everything will be okay. But right now the moon is climbing the mountains in the distance, and Jin Zixuan is drawing back to smile at him like the night will never end, and Jiang Cheng thinks this is it, this is everything he never knew he needed all along.