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Nie Huaisang stood at the prow of the boat, taking in the beauty of Yunmeng, the well-tended fields and the busy fishing and merchant ships passing to and fro. Whatever awaited him at their destination, he was enjoying the journey.
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. "If he's really so terrible," da-ge said, "then we'll call it off."
"No," said Nie Huaisang. "This alliance is too important. If he's terrible, we go through with the engagement, then I'll fake my death after the wedding."
Da-ge frowned. "Huaisang—"
"We've been over this." And they had. All of Bujingshi had heard their shouted arguments, repeated near daily in the time between the arrival of the betrothal letter and the departure for the engagement-and-diplomacy visit.
Yunmeng Jiang was a rising power. They controlled trade along the Changjiang, they commanded the loyalty of the smaller clans in the floodplain. Their ties to rogue cultivators brought them intel from across the jianghu. Powerful cultivators had come to them from the forbidding mountains of Meishan, and even from the immortal peaks of Baoshan Sanren. An alliance, especially at this time, even through an unconventional marriage between two men, could benefit Qinghe Nie greatly.
So had Nie-er-gongzi argued, and Chifeng-zun even agreed. But Nie Mingjue still was not fully convinced. And Nie Huaisang, though he tried to keep da-ge from seeing it, could not look upon the approaching dock of Lianhuawu without a tremor in his heart.
…
The boat docked; da-ge and Nie Huaisang disembarked. From the small crowd of disciples waiting on the shore, two tall men in purple robes stepped forward. Nie Huaisang recognized the first one from the portrait that had been sent with the betrothal letter.
His interest sharpened. So this was to be his future husband—the clan head of Yunmeng Jiang.
"Welcome to Lianhuawu," said Jiang-zongzhu. He had a very deep voice, and was just as handsome in person as in the portrait. A pleasant surprise. "I am Jiang Wanyin."
Also known as the Mad Dog of Yunmeng.
"Your renown precedes you," said da-ge, bowing. "I am Nie Mingjue. This is my younger brother, Nie Huaisang."
"And this is my head disciple, Wei Wuxian."
All four bowed. Nie Huaisang glanced curiously at Jiang-zongzhu as he led them along the walkway to the clan complex proper. So far the "Mad Dog" had done nothing intimidating, except be tall and stern-faced with dark piercing eyes…
Wei-gongzi leaned over slightly and whispered something to Jiang-zongzhu. Jiang-zongzhu's jaw clenched. The tips of his ears went red.
Nie Huaisang fanned himself. How interesting.
…
The trade negotiations had concluded, the welcome banquet had been eaten, the Nie disciples had returned to their guest rooms—and still Nie Huaisang had seen nothing to disturb him in Jiang-zongzhu's character.
To the contrary. "I wish every clan leader was as straightforward as him," said da-ge, flopping down on the floor mat. Nie Huaisang poured out some tea for him. Outside, a light rain had started to fall. "He clearly knows his numbers well."
"Yeah," said Nie Huaisang, thinking of long fingers dancing over the beads of an abacus.
"And his speech at the banquet wasn't full of bullshit either. I can respect that. The food wasn't at all bad, and the Jiang were generous with the wine but not to the point where I thought they were getting us drunk on purpose."
"Mm."
During the banquet, some children from town had run up to Jiang-zongzhu to show him that they had learned how to write their names. He had patted their heads, and his serious expression had melted into a smile whose sweetness had momentarily taken Nie Huaisang's breath away.
Da-ge nudged his knee with a foot. "Are you listening?"
"What? Of course, of course." Nie Huaisang grinned sheepishly at da-ge's scowl.
"I was saying," said da-ge, "that I still want to know why we heard such terrible things of him in Qinghe. He could very well have a brutal streak that wouldn't show up right away."
Nie Huaisang tapped his fan thoughtfully against his chin. "I wouldn't be surprised if Jiang-zongzhu had cultivated that reputation himself," he said.
Da-ge stopped with his teacup halfway to his mouth. "Hm. Worth considering, certainly." He drank and set down the cup again with a grimace. "The political situation being what is it, I suppose I can't blame him."
"Yunmeng Jiang clan is small," Nie Huaisang said. He waved a hand around them. "Lianhuawu is very beautiful, but if we saw most of the complex on the tour, then they don't have anywhere near the kind of manpower that many other clans have. Of course, since many of their disciples do travel around, they could easily have many more disciples than we've seen. But still."
"And many of the disciples we've seen are not very experienced. We knew from the bazi that Jiang Wanyin is even younger than you, but that head disciple of his isn't much older." Da-ge tapped a finger against the side of his cup. "In such circumstances…"
He didn't have to finish his sentence. After their father's death, da-ge, too, had needed to steward his reputation carefully.
Then he sighed and shook his head. "Still, keep your eyes open. See if there's something to the 'Mad Dog' name."
…
The next day, Nie Huaisang woke up early—willingly—to observe Jiang-zongzhu lead morning training for his junior disciples. Many of the juniors, he could tell, had not been raised as cultivators. Even he, with his reluctance to train, was more comfortable with his seldom-used saber than some of these juniors were with the wooden practice swords.
Whatever the disciples' background, Jiang-zongzhu didn't let them get away with any laziness or sloppiness. His deep voice called out corrections without pause, and as he moved among the disciples he was constantly fixing their forms and stances. Nie Huaisang winced, imagining being on the receiving end of those reprimands. (The touches, though…)
And yet, Jiang-zongzhu's strict instruction had tangible effect. Nie Huaisang could see the juniors' movements getting smoother and more confident. At the end of the lesson, many stayed in the courtyard to continue practicing together.
Jiang-zongzhu himself sheathed his sword, made minute adjustments to his dark purple robes, and walked up to Nie Huaisang. "Nie-er-gongzi, good morning," he said. "Have you breakfasted yet?"
"No, not yet," Nie Huaisang replied.
"Nor have I," Jiang-zongzhu said. "If you'd like, we could have breakfast together. There is a pavilion—that is—I understand Nie-er-gongzi is an artist—" Jiang-zongzhu looked at him, then away.
Nie Huaisang hid his smile behind his fan, saying only, "Certainly, Jiang-zongzhu. I would be honored to see more of Lianhuawu's beauty. The surrounding lake is indeed picturesque."
Jiang-zongzhu frowned slightly. Before Nie Huaisang could wonder if he had struck the wrong note (maybe Jiang-zongzhu, like da-ge, didn't see much in the arts? But he had brought it up first?), Jiang-zongzhu asked, "Nie-er-gongzi, do you know how to swim?"
"I can float," Nie Huaisang said.
Jiang-zongzhu's lips pressed together. "In that case, you should hold onto my arm. The piers can be slippery after a rain."
"Only if Jiang-zongzhu is not offended by my forwardness," said Nie Huaisang.
This time, Jiang-zongzhu rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't suggest it just to get offended a moment later."
Nie Huaisang smiled and put his hand on Jiang-zongzhu's forearm.
Jiang-zongzhu led the way to the pavilion, giving instructions for breakfast to a passing junior disciple. The piers were wet, it was true, and Nie Huaisang took the excuse to lean a little more on Jiang-zongzhu's arm.
The pavilion looked over the lake. "It looks its best in summer, when the lotuses are blooming," Jiang-zongzhu said, pulling a dry robe out of a qiankun pouch and laying it over the bench for Nie Huaisang to sit.
But Nie Huaisang was too busy leaning against the railing around the pavilion, drinking in the view. The early-morning sun turned the mist silver and gold, glowing like the breath of immortals. The surface of the lake lay smooth and perfect and clear. Below, schools of fish swam, and water grasses waved, moved by hidden currents.
"Oh, how beautiful," he sighed.
Behind him, Jiang-zongzhu made an indistinct sound of agreement.
After a while, Nie Huaisang turned. A disciple had come and gone with a tray for breakfast. Jiang-zongzhu was now pouring out tea for him.
Nie Huaisang had meant to use this one-on-one encounter to get more information out of Jiang-zongzhu, and he still would. But as he took his seat across from Jiang-zongzhu, as he accepted the cup of tea, as he smiled (and Jiang-zongzhu blushed) when their fingers touched—he was mostly thinking that he could get used to starting his mornings just like this.
…
"What are your conclusions?" asked da-ge.
Nie Huaisang, sitting on the pier and kicking his heels as he watched Jiang-zongzhu lead a swimming lesson for a group of new recruits, said, "My sketchbooks will be well-filled when I am married."
Da-ge followed his line of sight and sighed. "Huaisang..."
Nie Huaisang reached up and tugged at da-ge's sleeve. Reluctantly, da-ge sat down next to him.
"I know what you're thinking," said Nie Huaisang, "but I promise, I'm taking this seriously."
"And?"
"And..." Nie Huaisang trailed off. How to put it into words? The breakfast in the pavilion had been lovely, especially seeing Jiang-zongzhu get flustered when Nie Huaisang flirted a little more obviously. Later in the day he had sat in on Jiang-zongzhu listening to petitions for help from the commoners, and had seen yet another facet of the man: dignified and decisive, yet with unmistakeable care as he listened to his people.
Now, as Jiang-zongzhu oversaw the swimming lesson, he was similar to what Huaisang had seen in morning training: shouting critique and quick to correct his students' form. But his hands were always gentle.
"And...I think Jiang-zongzhu is a good man," said Nie Huaisang. "Taking care of Yunmeng is the highest priority to him, above prestige or wealth or status or his personal reputation. He's not cruel. He expresses his feelings through actions and yelling, but of course I'm used to that."
Da-ge, who had been nodding along thoughtfully, now nudged Nie Huaisang with his elbow. But he looked relieved, too.
"That's been my read of him, too," said da-ge. "One of us could be wrong but I don't think we'd both misjudge in the same way." They fell silent for a moment. One of the students had started to panic, and Jiang-zongzhu was rescuing them. The shouts of correction had ceased; from here they could only hear the low, steady, comforting cadence of his reassurances.
When the student had been safely brought back to shallow waters, da-ge said, "Do you think you could be happy here?"
Without hesitation, Nie Huaisang replied, "Yes."
…
Later that year, in summer, as the lotuses bloomed.
The waters of the lake lapped against the posts, a soft and soothing sound. Nie Huaisang fanned himself idly. His red wedding robes were beautiful—Qinghe had to send off the brother of the clan leader in style, of course—but very, very hot. At least an evening breeze was coming in off the water.
Footsteps approached from the corridor. Then: "Nie-er-gongzi, may I come in?"
Nie Huaisang smiled. "Only if you call me by my proper title."
A pause. "May I come in, furen?"
He had said it to fluster Jiang Wanyin, but that title, in that voice, with that tone…Nie Huaisang swallowed, his face heating.
"Yes, please," he said, "fujun."
Jiang Wanyin had opened the door, so Nie Huaisang got a good look at his face at hearing that word. That made two of them, then.
Nie Huaisang set his fan aside and beckoned to Jiang Wanyin with a welcoming smile. "It's very warm," he said. "Why don't you help me get out of these robes, fujun?"
At this, Jiang Wanyin stopped. "We don't have to—" he began.
"I'd like to," said Nie Huaisang.
Jiang Wanyin's eyes searched his face. Then he frowned, as if he had been looking for something and failed to find it. "You really mean it," he said. "You aren't…nervous?"
"Why would I be nervous?"
Jiang Wanyin pressed his lips together. "I know what kind of reputation I have."
Nie Huaisang gently took Jiang Wanyin's hand and guided him to sit down on the bed. "May I?" he asked, his hands moving to Jiang Wanyin's hair ornaments. At his nod, Nie Huaisang began pulling out the golden pins and setting them aside on a tray. "I was nervous, when the engagement first formed," he admitted. "But now that I've seen you with your disciples, with the commoners, with your family…"
Jiang Wanyin had reached up to help take down Nie Huaisang's hair arrangements as well. It felt nice, his big hands careful, never tugging too hard or letting the pins snag, but now Nie Huaisang wanted his full attention. He put his hands on Jiang Wanyin's broad shoulders and looked him in the eyes.
"No, I'm not afraid of you," he said. "In fact, if Jiang-zongzhu will permit the liberty—"
He took Jiang Wanyin's chin in his hand and moved in slowly, giving his husband time to stop him. But Jiang Wanyin did not.
The kiss was soft, surprisingly chaste, warm. In it Nie Huaisang tasted the promise of a future together, of sunlit walks on the piers, of rain melting into the surface of the lake, of a tenderness that might deepen, in time, to love.
When they broke apart, Jiang Wanyin's strong hands settled at Nie Huaisang's waist, not gripping too tight. Nie Huaisang smiled.
"We haven't known each other very long," he said, "and there will be storms and trials ahead, no doubt—"
(Jiang Wanyin's expression flickered, but not with surprise. Yes, he had seen the signs himself; he would make a valuable ally to Qinghe in the years to come. How fortunate, to mix business with pleasure.)
"—but." Nie Huaisang brushed his thumb over Jiang Wanyin's cheekbone. "But I am happy to embark on this journey at your side."