Chapter Text
The sun was barely beginning to set as Lan Xichen walked through the labyrinthine corridors of Jin tower, navigating from his guest quarters to where his sect brother’s rooms were. Instead of ascending the tower to the family quarters, his heart sank as he descended into the increasingly cramped corridors where most of the servants lived and worked. Obviously, Jin Guangyao’s assurances that the Jin sect treated him well, were not entirely accurate.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he found a plain wooden door that was indistinguishable from the surroundings, but multiple servants had insisted it was Young Master Jin’s room. Lan Xichen gave the flimsy door three crisp knocks. Instead of opening to reveal a gently smiling A-Yao, or inquiring call, the only sound was a pained groan.
The idea of entering without A-Yao’s permission was nearly unfathomable, but it sounded like the other man currently couldn’t open the door. Once inside, the room was completely shrouded in darkness with no candles lit, and the curtains blocking any of the waning sunlight
“A-Yao?”
There was a snarl from the bed. “Get out.”
Lan Xichen called forth a ball of spiritual energy so he could see what was going on. “A-Yao, what’s wrong?”
The spiritual energy illuminated the small room, which was simple but crowded. A thin bed in the corner, a desk suffused with papers, and a simple round bronze mirror and a dresser holding cinnabar and other cosmetics. In a simple vase there were peonies whose heavy scent suffused the room, however underneath the flowers’ aroma there was a faint smell of sweat and sickness.
On the bed, Jin Guangyao raised his head to squint. His face seemed abnormally pale, and his eyes bloodshot. When he spoke, the earlier vitriol was gone from his voice, replaced by confusion when he said, “Er-ge? What are you doing here?”
“Ah, we scheduled a meeting to discuss the watchtowers before the conference. I wanted to see if you were available to discuss it now.”
“Oh, it must have slipped my mind.” His voice seemed torn between more sounds of pain, and the quiet gentle respect he had always offered the people around him. “My apologies, perhaps we can reschedule for another day?”
“Of course, of course.” Instead of leaving instantly, Lan Xichen lingered. “I can transfer some spiritual energy, if that would help.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly-” Jin Guangyao’s eyes were already closing.
“I insist!” Lan Xichen extinguished the light and sat on the bed so he could gently transfer spiritual energy through the wrist.
Jin Guangyao murmured “Hmmm, that feels nice.”
As the other man gently drifted off to sleep, Lan Xichen was bold enough to gently stroke his long hair. Still, what had caused such a severe migraine in the first place?