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Jin Ling has been able to eliminate water ghosts by himself since he was fifteen. He thinks by now he can probably do it in his sleep. (Once, he made the mistake of asking why water ghosts specifically were so important. It caused jiujiu to go into the type of rant that makes the veins on his forehead protrude and makes Jin Ling afraid he’s going to have an aneurysm. Apparently, it is unthinkable for a child of Yunmeng Jiang heritage not to know how to handle a water ghost.)
The point is, Jin Ling is able to get rid of one by himself or with the help of any junior disciple with no trouble. So he has no idea why, when he mentioned he was going on a night-hunt with Lan Jingyi, jiujiu decided to invite himself and Zewu-jun, of all people, to come along.
“We would have been fine alone!” he hisses as they trudge their way through the muddy terrain by the river. “Why did they think we need the two strongest cultivators of the major sects as babysitters?”
“I’m pretty sure Hanguang-jun is stronger than— oof!” Lan Jingyi begins to say, before he is interrupted by Jin Ling’s elbow in his stomach. “Anyway, it’s not that weird. Night-hunts have always been an opportunity to build better inter-sect relations.”
“We were literally at a discussion conference together for two weeks until this morning! Didn’t they have enough time to build inter-sect relations there?”
“Maybe they just got bored and wanted to do something fun.”
“Hmpf!” Jin Ling rolls his eyes and turns to glare at jiujiu, who is walking behind them in a quiet conversation with Zewu-jun. Something seems definitely off, but he can’t really put a finger on it, and then his attention is distracted by Fairy’s first bark.
* * *
By the time they are done and preparing to camp in the forest near the river, Jin Ling is in a significantly better mood. As easy as it was, eliminating the ghost together with Jingyi was, in fact, fun. Jiujiu and Zewu-jun hadn’t interfered at all, happy to continue their hushed conversation. (Again, why do they have so much to talk about?)
Jin Ling pushes the annoying thought away and bends down to pick up a piece of wood. “So what you’re saying,” he asks, jumping back into his conversation with Lan Jingyi, “is that you choose the chord specifically? You don’t just randomly strum your guqin when you want to stun the ghost?”
Lan Jingyi throws him an indignant look. “Jin Ling! We’ve been on how many night-hunts together, and you think Lan musical cultivation is about randomly strumming our guqins?”
“How should I know?” Jin Ling huffs. “I thought it was all about the spiritual energy you infuse in the sound.”
“If it was only about spiritual energy, why would I spend so many hours every week studying and practicing?”
“Maybe it’s because you're not very smart.”
A branch flies towards Jin Ling’s face, but he manages to duck in time to avoid it. “Hey!” he says, and has to duck again, almost immediately. The third time it happens, he is ready for it and he snatches the branch from the air. “If you keep doing that, we’ll have to go back and gather more firewood!”
Lan Jingyi stops, his arm already extended for another throw, and considers the diminishing pile in his other arm. “Do you think we have enough?”
“Probably. Let’s go back. Jiujiu and Zewu-jun should be done setting up the tents by now.”
* * *
In retrospect, Jin Ling should have suspected something when he noticed how much jiujiu was smiling. Jiujiu smiles only rarely, and only at Jin Ling, or puppies, or when he thinks nobody is looking. He certainly never smiles at other sect leaders and he never fucking giggles!
If Jin Ling had suspected it, he would have sent Fairy ahead of them as a warning, or made more noise as they were approaching the camp site, or he would have thought of something else — anything — to avoid the situation they are currently in.
As it is, he and Jingyi are staring at the clearing where their tents are set up, their mouths open in twin gapes. The view in front of them doesn’t make any sense. Because why are jiujiu and Zewu-jun sitting so close to each other, and why is Zewu-jun’s hand resting on jiujiu’s neck, and why are they leaning into each other like they are… they are…
“What are you doing to my jiujiu?!” Jin Ling yells, at exactly the same moment that Jingyi gasps, “Zewu-jun?”
The two sect leaders flinch and part slowly. Too slowly. The shade of pink on jiujiu’s face is something Jin Ling could have happily lived without ever witnessing. Zewu-jun seems to get his bearings first, and he smiles that placating smile that Jin Ling thinks he might start hating and says, “Ah. Wanyin. I guess we have to tell them now.”
“Tell us? Tell us what??”
* * *
“What the fuck!” Jin Ling bites out for probably the sixteenth time since he turned his back on everyone and stomped back into the forest. Fairy, the only one who followed after him, lets out a worried whine.
“Oh, now you‘re being noisy!” He turns back to glare at her. “You couldn’t do that when we were getting back to camp so that I wouldn’t have to witness— ugh!” He begins to rub his eyes with his palm, wishing to erase the image from his mind somehow. Which means he’s not watching where he’s going. And that is a mistake.
He feels his boot catch on a large rock, and as the world tilts around him and the forest floor rushes to meet his face, he barely has enough time to lift his arm and break the fall.
“Shit,” he says, and punches the ground with his fist. “Shit, shit, shit!”
Fairy runs to him immediately, and begins to nuzzle his face and body.
“It’s okay. I’m okay, girl.” He sighs, still on the ground, and allows her to check him for injuries. When she whines again after sniffing at his hand, he lifts it to examine it. “It’s just a scratch. I’m okay, I promise.”
* * *
Lan Jingyi arrives to find him sitting on a fallen log, his uninjured hand buried in Fairy’s fur. “Hey,” he says, and sits down. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. I was just… grossed out before.”
“Oh, don’t be a baby!” Lan Jingyi laughs. “I mean, I would have preferred not to see it, but it wasn’t gross.”
Jin Ling considers snarling at him, but settles for a glare.
For several blessed moments it seems like Jingyi has no more to say about the subject. But then he speaks again, his voice lower, more serious than usual. “Is that what’s really bothering you? Or are you upset because you didn’t know?”
Jin Ling huffs out a breath and shakes his head. It’s fine. It’s not like jiujiu tells him what he’s doing and where he’s going all the time. He knows he has no right to expect that. It’s fine. He’s completely fine with that.
“Whatever,” he only says and rolls his eyes.
Suddenly, he feels very tired. Exhausted really. But there is no way he is going back to their camp now, so he settles for closing his eyes and just sitting there, silent. The whole time, Jingyi doesn't stop looking at him.
“It was a bit… weird, I’ll give you that. Not because of the kissing itself, I mean — that’s fine, people do that. It was just—”
“Please stop talking about it,” Jin Ling sighs.
“—I mean, I get why it might have been awkward for you. If Zewu-jun was close family—”
“Jingyi, I swear, if you don’t stop—”
“—and there were even tongues involved—”
“For fuck’s sake, don’t you ever just shut up?”
Jin Ling growls and swings his fist, but Lan Jingyi moves like he expects it. He grabs Jin Ling’s wrist and keeps it still in the air between them. There’s a triumphant glint in his eyes, as if he just got something he wanted, but then his gaze shifts to the blood dripping from Jin Ling’s fist and he gasps.
“Jin Ling, what happened?”
* * *
The moment the sharp smell of alcohol reaches Jin Ling’s nostrils, he knows whatever is in the bottle is going to sting. Despite expecting it, he still lets out a hiss when Jingyi pours the liquid over the gash on his palm.
“Come on, Little Mistress,” Jingyi says with a small smile, his voice lacking the usual mocking tone. “I’ve seen you take a lashing from a cursed vine with little more than a grunt. This is nothing.”
He continues to treat Jin Ling’s wound, pouring more of the liquid and dabbing it with a clean cloth, all the while murmuring softly, things like was the plan to just walk around bleeding and gonna be a sect leader soon and can't keep on acting reckless anymore.
It’s a rare thing to see him like this, his seemingly constant restlessness replaced by intense focus. Jin Ling finds it amusing. The way Lan Jingyi’s brows furrow when he concentrates. The way his lips form a tiny pout in the short moments he stops talking.
“So, um. Have you done it before?”
“Hmm?” Lan Jingyi hums as he takes out a little pot containing medicinal balm from his pouch.
The thing is, Jin Ling hadn’t really planned to ask. But he has been curious ever since Jingyi called him a baby, and asking can’t possibly make things much more awkward tonight, and he is too tired to care anyway, so he clarifies, “Have you ever kissed someone?”
Jingyi almost drops the balm. “Wha— oh! Yeah. Yeah, I have.” There is a blush creeping up his cheeks, visible even in the moonlight. “You?”
“Of course!” Jin Ling says. And then, more quietly, “Actually, no. I haven’t.”
He expects Jingyi to make fun of him, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, he applies the balm over the wound, and then begins to wrap Jin Ling’s hand with a bandage.
“What is it like?”
Jingyi purses his lips thoughtfully. “Nice, I guess? I don’t know, it’s one of those things you have to experience for yourself.”
The two ends of the bandage tied together, he still doesn’t let go of Jin Ling’s hand. The flush on his cheeks turns even deeper. He keeps his gaze low as he quietly asks, “Do you want to try it?”
For a few moments, Jin Ling only blinks. Then his eyes go wide as he understands the meaning of Jingyi’s words. “What, now? With you?”
“Y-yeah! Why not?”
Well. Apparently this night could in fact get even weirder.
Jin Ling considers it. He has thought about kissing someone before, of course. It’s impossible to be Zizhen’s friend and not think about kissing, considering how often he talks about whatever romantic bullshit he’s currently reading. But the subject had always made him feel uncomfortable and uneasy, like there was something fluttering in his stomach in a very unpleasant way. He realizes that now, with Jingyi, the uncomfortable fluttering isn’t there.
“Sure,” he says. “Why not.”
Lan Jingyi finally looks into his eyes “Oh. Okay,” he says, a little shaky. “Okay,” he breathes out and straightens his shoulders. “Jin Ling, I’m going to kiss you now.”
The kiss is gentle. Chaste. Jigyi’s lips are soft, much softer than Jin Ling had expected them to be. He has time enough to acknowledge this, and then Jingyi pulls away.
Not that he has anything to compare it with, but Jin Ling thinks — as kisses go — this one was nice. Nothing special really. But still, nice. Kissing certainly isn’t as spectacular as some people make it out to be. And certainly not so amazing that two adult sect leaders should be tempted and unable to stop themselves from doing it outside, in the open, for everyone to see. He opens his mouth to say as much, when Jingyi slides an arm around his waist, and pulls him closer, pressing their lips together again.
Jin Ling closes his eyes. It feels different this time. Jingyi tilts his head, and their lips fit together differently, and when he buries his fingers in Jin Ling’s hair, it makes him break into goosebumps. It’s strange and clumsy, and a little bit awkward, but also good, good in a way he hadn’t expected. It’s dizzying and exciting to be this close to someone, close enough to smell the lingering scent of incense on his clothes with every breath. Jin Ling feels too hot, and at the same time, like he’s about to start shivering, and when Jingyi tries to pull away, he doesn’t let him. He grabs Jingyi’s collar instead, and pulls him even closer. Jingyi breathes a surprised chuckle into his lips, and then they continue to kiss, and they smile while doing it, and Jin Ling thinks he finally understands why everyone makes a big deal about kissing.
* * *
The time it takes them to get back to the camp feels both too long and too short somehow. They keep glancing at each other and exchanging smiles and blushing when their eyes meet, and it would be weird and embarrassing, except they both do it, so it feels fine. Jin Ling is still strangely jittery and distracted. He isn’t certain if they’re even walking in the right direction, but Fairy is the one who leads the way, and out of the three of them, he trusts her the most to think straight at the moment.
Soon the trees become sparser and the area begins to look familiar. Jin Ling winces at the flush of embarrassment that hits him as he remembers how he acted.
“I, um…” He slows down. “I suppose I should apologize to Zewu-jun for– for the yelling.”
Jingyi chuckles. “I think he really cares about Sect Leader Jiang and about your approval. At least, he seemed concerned when you left the way you did. I’m sure it will be fine.”
Jin Ling nods, grateful for the reassurance, but Jingyi stops him with an arm across his chest and grimaces.
“Let’s not make the same mistake again,” he says. Then he begins to stomp his feet and shout, “Hey, Jin Ling! Aren’t we close to our campsite?”
“Wha—?”
“Ah, yes we are! See! I told you we were almost there! In fact, we’re just approaching the place where—”
“Stop making noise, you brats!” jiujiu’s voice resounds from behind the trees. “We can hear you just fine!”
“Too bad you couldn’t hear us when you had each other’s tongues down your throats,” Jingyi whispers.
Jin Ling blinks in disbelief, before a loud, helpless giggle bubbles out of his chest. As if pleased he made him laugh, Lan Jingyi smiles at him.
“Come, Little Mistress,” he says, still grinning, wide and happy, when they enter the clearing.
Under the starry sky, a feeling begins to bloom in Jin Ling’s chest, new and warm and exciting, as he watches the smiling boy in front of him.