Chapter Text
Returning to the Jin clan’s lands always brought an air of tension to Wen Qing and her brother. To say their memories of the place were unpleasant was charitable at best, and the blatantly reluctant admission to Lanling City did little to set Wen Qing at ease. She kept her head tipped high, of course, and pretended not to hear any mutterings about them as they passed by.
Unlike some bull-headed individuals, she would not rise to the bait and cause trouble where there was none. They had spent long enough away as it was, they hardly needed to delay their visit to see Wei Wuxian and his husband any longer with petty arguments. Of course, it would be easier if they could have visited them in the Cloud Recesses, but predictably, Wei Wuxian spent half his time visiting his nephew when he wasn’t off wandering about with Lan Zhan.
The journey through the city was uneventful at the least, little trouble raised beyond stares and murmurs. Wen Qing’s first inclination that something was wrong came when they reached foot of the great rise leading up to the Golden Scale Tower.
“Visitors are disallowed right now,” a guard said sternly, spear extended to cross in front of the lift leading up, mirrored by a second man across from him.
“What’s happened?” Wen Qing asked sharply, drawing up to her full height. It did nothing to sway them, of course, and the first shook his head sharply.
“That’s none of your business. Leave, or we’ll consider you a threat.”
There was little for it at that. Wen Qing frowned, eyes darting to meet her brother’s. There was a brief but immediate understanding between them. Without missing another beat, Wen Qing nodded to the guards.
“Very well.”
They maintained a calm pace back down the street. Only until the moment they turned out of sight of those guards. In a blink, the siblings were off at a dead sprint, circling around the palace’s foothill before diving into its surrounding foliage. Neither were fools. If visitors were disallowed and treated as dangers, then there could only have been trouble in the tower.
“I’ll check the east half,” Wen Ning murmured to her. Wen Qing nodded, banking away in the opposite direction.
“I’ll take the south.”
There were guards all around the Tower’s walls, of course. But it would not be the first time that either of them had snuck into somewhere unwelcomed, and Wen Qing always kept a close eye on their rotations during their more...welcomed visits. Now she moved like a sparrow between the branches, diving and ducking between cover to remain out of sight. A cast needle to make noise against one edge of the wall she approached turned the guards’ heads for just the moment she needed. With one leap and careful pivot behind a stack of barrels beyond the wall, she was inside and out of sight.
There was a commotion coming from inside, more towards the residence of the Jin clan leader. She could hear voices raised, and guards were milling about. But far more concerningly, she could hear the high wail of Wei Ying’s flute, undercut by the thrumming of Lan Zhan’s guqin. Anything that required those two to duet was never good, and she hardly maintained any pretense of stealth once she’d snuck into the building proper.
There were people gathered and held back by guards. Some were searching for, from the sounds of things, an attacker. Others stood like wildcats guarding their young at the door to Jin Ling’s room, poised to strike at anyone who pressed their luck at reaching the scene beyond. Heedless, Wen Qing strode towards them, unflinching as they raised their weapons with snapped orders for her to back off.
“I’m skilled in medical cultivation,” she retorted, raising her voice above theirs. “If something has happened to the clan leader, I’m more capable than anyone here to help him.”
“We won’t trust a Wen dog to help.” It was the expected response. Wen Qing considered her needles, just briefly. But there were so many guards already close by. Her brother would surely hold them back for her while she worked, but it wouldn’t do any good to pull them away from their search for whomever it was that started this whole mess.
“Then escort me in with a sword to my back. If I misbehave, you can have the pleasure of striking me down. And if Wei Ying welcomes me, your clan leader might just survive,” she bargained.
There were exchanged glances with that, a moment of taut hesitation. The answer came in the lightest press of cold steel to the small of her back, right upon her spine.
“One mistake and you’ll never move again,” a man growled behind her.
“I know.”
She walked at a slow pace. Far slower than she cared for in an emergency. But it was one that got her through the doors of that room, and onto a scene that was as bad as expected. Jin Ling lay on the floor in between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. He was pale, shuddering, and one couldn’t tell whether he was awake and merely squeezing his eyes shut, or in a tormented slumber. There were sickly green veins pulsing along his neck and wrists where the fabric of his robes had slipped away, struggling to spread against the cleansing song his uncles played. Close by stood Jiang Cheng, looking nearly like a wild animal prepared to pounce on the first thing that made a bad move. Wen Qing could just about swear. She hadn’t realized that he’d come out of seclusion, and his presence could be catastrophic here.
But nevertheless, there were other things to consider. Her mind raced, piecing together what was happening to Jin Ling. It was no doubt a curse, and one quite stubborn if Wei Ying and Lan Zhan were struggling to contain it. They undoubtedly would have already cleared for poisons, and tried the traditional means of removing such a curse. Which meant that it was very deep-rooted, and risky to tear out carelessly. Possibly even dug into Jin Ling’s golden core.
“Wei Ying,” she prompted. His eyes flicked up from where they were fixed upon his nephew, widening a brief moment. The relief was almost palpable, sharply contrasted by the way Jiang Cheng’s head whipped around.
“What is she-”
“Wen Qing! Thank goodness. Please lend a hand, whatever you can do!” Wei Ying cut over, waving her over quickly. Lan Zhan didn’t cease his playing in his husband’s absence, but he gave a firm nod as well. In spite of that ringing endorsement, Wen Qing could still feel the sword pressed to her back, threatening. She looked over her shoulder to the guard, then followed his gaze back to Jiang Cheng.
“Well?” She prompted. “Nobody is more suited to help than me. Now isn’t the time for grudges to get in the way of saving a life.”
She could see the anger that sparked crossing over his face. He looked fit to burst, rigid from head to toe. Even after years of seclusion, it seemed that Jiang Cheng’s temper was not something to sneeze at, and Wen Qing subtly slipped a couple of needles into hand. If necessary, she would lay him flat again and trust Wen Ning to hold off the guards.
“Wanyin,” Wei Ying called softly. From what Wen Qing knew of the man, she expected an argument. But seclusion really must have done some good in him, because when he met his brother’s eyes, he stilled. There was one long, tense moment, and then a deep breath.
“Fine,” he sighed out, arms crossing over his chest. “But if you hurt him-”
“You’ll kill me for good,” she agreed brusquely, stepping away from that sword. There was no more time for posturing and threats. With Wei Ying’s half of the song left unplayed, she could see those green veins gaining ground. If they spread to every part of him, there was no saying whether even she could stop it. She brought more needles into hand, casting them down with a flick of her wrists into a formation.
“Wei Ying, Lan Zhan, I’ll need you both to keep playing Purification,” she directed. Both nodded, and with the hum of a guqin and wail of a flute in the air, she set to work.
It was nearly an hour before Wen Qing at last sat back on her heals with a heavy sigh, raising her hand. Both Wei Ying and Lan Zhan halted their song, the former breathing hard and the latter idly flexing his fingers.
“Why have you stopped? The curse is still there,” Jiang Cheng demanded. Indeed, there was still the sickly aura of it lingering around Jin Ling, although its unsightly pallor had retreated under his robes entirely by then.
“It is, but I’ve managed to remove it from his golden core and expel the worst of it. If we keep going as we are, the strain could do him more harm than good,” Wen Qing replied. “I’ll keep an eye on him and work on teasing out the rest of it, but this part has to happen slowly.”
Jiang Cheng didn’t look particularly convinced. He looked down to Jin Ling, face screwed up tightly with worry. It was a familiar expression to Wen Qing. Many parents and lovers had looked at her patients in just the same way, anxious for their recovery and helpless to do much to expedite it.
“Ahhhh, you’re really a life-saver Wen Qing.” Wei Ying, as ever, made it a point to interrupt loudly. He sagged back down, still slightly winded from such an extended session with his flute.
“That’s my job,” she replied dismissively. “And yours is going to be recovering so you can catch whoever did this. I only tolerate one person hovering over a patient at a time.” And it was obvious that Jiang Cheng was not about to go anywhere. He still watched her like he was expecting a fight, and Wen Qing would bet on having to use a needle and a stretcher to even get him out of the room at this point.
“That’s so harsh,” Wei Ying whined. For all the dramatics of his tone however, she could see the worry on his face when he reached out. Gently, he brushed Jin Ling’s sweat-soaked bangs out of his eyes, cupping his palm to the young man’s cheek. “Look after him, Wen Qing.”
He was serious now. She could almost marvel at how quickly the man ricocheted between humor and intensity, but now was not the time. It was no secret that Wei Ying valued his nephew as highly as he would a flesh and blood son, just as his brother did. She didn’t bow, but her nod was wholly solemn.
“Of course I will. Now, get him onto the bed. Not under the sheets – he has a fever that I’ll need to break.”
In spite of how transparently little Jiang Cheng wanted her there, he did comply with Wen Qing’s direction. He and Wei Ying worked together to gently lift Jin Ling, handling him like something of spun glass to be delicately set upon his bed. Lan Zhan murmured that he would send for supplies, listening intently to Wen Qing’s rattled off list and nodding along.
She let out a soft breath once he and his husband stepped out of the room, Wei Ying waving and promising they would stop by before they started their investigation. It was less chaos at the least, and the silence was mostly welcomed. If only it weren’t spoiled by the sense of being watched.
J iang Cheng remained by Jin Ling’s side, arms crossed and eyes set intently upon her. Wen Qing met them for a long moment, measuring him up. He was vastly more tolerant than he’d been before, at the least. But it was clear that she was going to have her work cut out for her well beyond simply tending to his nephew.
“Did you have something to say, Clan Leader Jiang?” She prompted.
“More than you can imagine,” he replied curtly, and said nothing more. Wen Qing waited, lifting an eyebrow half in prompt. Jiang Cheng instead looked away, like a stubborn dog refusing to break an order it was given. It seemed that he was determined to keep a hold on his temper, at the very least. Right now, that was all that she could ask for.
The fever was a stubborn thing. It clung to Jin Ling like a second skin of sweat and shivers, wracking his body as the hours slipped by. He barely roused with the touch of cold cloths upon his brow, unresponsive beyond wordless mumbles to his uncle’s calls in those brief moments when he seemed nearly conscious. Wen Qing allowed Jiang Cheng to manage the fever, by and large. She doubted that he could take it if he was left with absolutely nothing to do. It was unlikely that any cloth upon Jin Ling’s brow managed to even approach ‘warm’ before it was changed out.
But she had her own work to do, and Jiang Cheng would simply have to live with fussing over the young man shoulder to shoulder with her. That curse couldn’t be allowed to re-establish itself after all, and Wen Qing took any moment of regathered strength in Jin Ling to tease it out by fractions.
Eventually, he did wake. He was incoherent, barely responsive to questions or able to form words of his own. Jiang Cheng certainly tried, but Wen Qing wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. It was the middle of the night, but there were still guards and servants at the ready outside of the room to fetch what she asked for.
“He has to eat and drink as much as he can while he won’t choke on it,” she told him sternly, sweeping over with the tray someone delivered in haste. It was largely simple food. Soup, bread. Things that he could get down with a little help, and hopefully flavourful enough to mask the taste of the medicine set aside with it all.
“It could be poisoned,” Jiang Cheng said, eyeing the tray suspiciously. He stood half between her and Jin Ling, as though he was ready to do combat with a bowl of soup. Wen Qing bit off a sigh, nodding.
“I’ll check it.” It was a reasonable enough concern, admittedly. If someone had been bold enough to attack the clan leader directly with a curse, underhanded tactics like poisons were far from out of the question. She set the tray onto a side table, slipping off a necklace. It had been a gift from her brother, some good luck charm to celebrate and bless her revival. As nice of a gesture as it had been, it had never felt like it had done much. Now, however...
“What are you doing?” Jiang Cheng asked. He was watching her again, staring as intently as a hawk while Wen Qing hovered the necklace over the food, funnelling her energy through it.
“I’m dowsing for poison.” The soup seemed fine. The bread as well. She frowned, focusing more upon the medicines. Her list was sound enough, but she had to be certain nothing was slipped into the mixture.
“Why should I believe you?” He demanded. Wen Qing clicked her tongue, sighing gustily at him. The necklace didn’t wobble, in spite of that.
“Because if I wanted your nephew to die, I could have let that curse eat him alive and feigned incompetence. I don’t like wasted effort.” The water was also clear. Wen Qing clipped her necklace back into place, lifting the tray again. She met Jiang Cheng’s eyes, taking one deliberate step forwards. “He needs to eat.”
He regarded her closely for a moment. Evaluating whether to trust her, to argue. If her implication of forcing the matter was serious.
Fortunately, Jin Ling decided that was the moment to whine and sag down more against his uncle’s arm, slumping forwards with a slow, heavy blink. Jiang Cheng’s head snapped down, all his glowering and posturing softened for a moment with concern.
“He won’t be awake for much longer,” Wen Qing pressed. He cast her a sharp look, gripping his nephew’s shoulder.
“...Hand me the tray.
Jin Ling managed to stomach the medicine and half the bowl of soup before he turned away. He seemed asleep even before Jiang Cheng eased him back onto the pillows, face gone slack and restful for the moment. There was still a film of sweat upon his brow, clumping his bangs and making them cling in the brief minute before his uncle swept them aside to reinstate a cool cloth.
It was maddening to see him so frail. He had been so lively and- well, healthy just yesterday morning. He’d greeted Jiang Cheng with a smile. Confidence. Even if he could sense the nerves his nephew had been hiding (and to know now that his presence made Jin Ling nervous made Jiang Cheng’s guts knot up), he had carried himself with a grace that reminded him, in a painful flash, of his sister. For all he resented his brother’s flaws at times, he couldn’t refute that he had done a good job of looking out for Jin Ling while Jiang Cheng was in seclusion.
He barely paid mind when Wen Qing took away the tray. She handed it off to somebody outside of the door, stepping back from it and taking a moment to stare out of the window. That drew his attention more closely. Jiang Cheng wasn’t a fool. Where one of the Wen siblings went, the other was almost sure to follow. Her brother was probably out there, creeping through the shadows.
His suspicions were all but confirmed when she gave a subtle nod to whatever she saw outside. When she turned back to the bed, she didn’t seem surprised or anxious to have been caught. She met his eyes, regarding him just as closely as he did her (as though she had the right to, he thought bitterly). Whatever it was that she saw in him, she clearly decided it wasn’t something to shy away from. She walked right up to the bed beside him, ignoring the way that he all but loomed at her shoulder, and began to check over Jin Ling again.
And so things returned to an uneasy routine. Jiang Cheng minded his nephew’s fever, and Wen Qing periodically minded the curse. The hours began to pass once mo re, dragging their feet in slow, uneven turns. Distantly, Jiang Cheng could feel the twinges of exhaustion trying to set in. He had been travelling before his arrival, and the day had been full. Dawn was just around the corner, preceded by an absolute darkness that would make for the deepest sleep.
But now was not the time for rest. He had endured far more brutal stretches without, and until the culprits were caught, he couldn’t afford to leave Jin Ling unguarded. The Wen clan...woman would not be counted. Although she was clearly well aware of the fact that he was keeping as close an eye on her as he was his nephew.
For Wen Qing’s part, the night had gone by no faster. While she could relax her guard knowing that her brother was patrolling outside, the curse required semi-constant attention. Not to mention Jiang Cheng. She was more than aware that he was watching her every move, evaluating whether she was acting appropriately. Whether she was a threat. He was hardly making it subtle, and his eyes followed her like a hawk’s even when she retreated from her most recent check on Jin Ling.
This time, she made no effort to disguise her sigh. She crossed her arms, meeting his lingering gaze. “You clearly have a lot to say. You might as well speak your mind. We have nothing but time to pass right now.”
He tensed. For a moment, she thought he might turn away and hold his tongue again. Return to his carefully maintained repression. It was, for once, a relief to hear Jiang Cheng speak.
“Why are you helping him? Why did you ever help any of us? You’re Wens. You could have turned us away from the start.”
“And it would have been much easier, too.” Wen Qing said, ignoring the sharp look he sent her for it. It was the truth, but not the whole truth. She drew in a breath and let a far softer sigh slip. “But my brother is a fool who can’t leave well enough alone. He couldn’t prevent much that our clan did, but he always tried to help where he could get away with it. Or what I helped him get away with.” It’s added bitterly, or perhaps with a sour-sweet touch of fondness. Jiang Cheng’s jaw clenched. Unbidden, a vision of Wei Ying gallantly leaping to the defence of others time and time again crossed through his mind.
“Then we’re both cursed with foolish brothers.”
“Yes. And it’s only because of my foolish brother that you’re alive,” she replied curtly. The look she cast Jiang Cheng from the corner of her eye was piercing. If the way that his back drew up straight worried her, she didn’t show it for a moment. “Our brothers might be terribly alike, clan leader Jiang, but you and I are not so different either. If it meant protecting Wen Ning, I would have dragged you to my uncle’s feet myself. It was his kindness that saved your life back then.”
“Then if you’re so uncaring, then why are you helping now?” He snapped. Wen Qing’s finger lifted to her lips sharply. Both of their eyes snapped to the bed where Jin Ling’s face flexed and twitched, as though the young man were struggling to awaken. Wen Qing moved swiftly. By the time Jiang Cheng was turned fully back to face him, she’d swept away the cloth from his forehead and stroked his bangs back to replace it. The gentle touch seemed to soothe him, and with the fresh cloth’s cool weight placed back down, Jin Ling lapsed back into slumber.
“...It’s also because of Wen Ning that his father isn’t the one standing in your place,” Wen Qing said quietly. She met Jiang Cheng’s eyes, her face set grimly. “In fact, his father would be the one on this bed, if at all had he lived. That is a responsibility Wen Ning carries with him every day. That’s partly why we turned ourselves in to the Jin Clan before.”
Jiang Cheng was silent. The anger was a familiar boil inside of him, hot and trembling through every vein. His throat ached with all of the words he wanted to snap out. Accusations and fury and grief even still stubbornly remaining after his years of seclusion. But the time away had served some purpose, because he let none of it escape. He turned away from her stare instead, looking down at his nephew’s pale face.
His nephew, barely eighteen and already suffering plots against his life. His nephew, who was made to be the head of his clan younger even than Jiang Cheng had. Who had been there to guide him? Jin Guangyao was dead. He had retreated into seclusion himself, and Wei Ying had gone travelling with his husband, only around for brief spells. He should have had his father. He should have had his- his mother.
He knew that Lan Xichen and, to a much lesser extent – and thank the gods for that – Nie Huaisang had helped him. Much in the ways that the latter had been aided, before his clever ploys slipped at last and he gave up the charade of a clueless head-shaker. Another thing to be angry about, and another thing that Jiang Cheng had no room to allow himself to become worked up over. There was much he couldn’t let his temper blind him to any longer. And infuriatingly, the woman standing beside him counted among them.
She had died, he knew, at the Jin Clan’s hands. Her life was claimed in exchange for Jin Zixuan’s. It was, by technicality, a full reparation already.
Except that Jin Zixuan was still dead and gone, and Jin Ling was without his father, and Wen Qing still lived in her own way right here. Such grated on Jiang Cheng. And so again he took a deep breath, and remembered her words. Perhaps she was just as aware of that injustice. Perhaps that was why she tended his nephew so diligently now.
“Is that why he’s hovering outside?” Jiang Cheng asked instead. If Wen Qing was surprised that he’d caught on, she didn’t show it.
“Yes. Now would be a very convenient time to strike if they wish to finish the job,” she replied, eyes flicking over Jin Ling’s stilled form. “Wei Ying and Hanguang-Jun are recovering, and will be away soon. Any hidden conspirators may be waiting for their chance.”
“It would be suicide to try now.” Jiang Cheng’s thumb pressed against his ring, rubbing over the smooth metal. A familiar buzz hummed against his skin, Zidian ever-ready to answer his will.
“Assassins have died for less.” Wen Qing said grimly. “But they would have very slim chances now, yes. I’ve erected a circle around his bed. Any poisons should be repelled if they try an aerosolized attack.”
T he fact that Jiang Cheng hadn’t noticed her do so grated, but not so much as that forethought soothed. It wasn’t something that he had considered himself, foolishly caught on one track of mind again . Some days, it felt as though seclusion had barely changed anything. His anger was still there, always an inferno he had to contain. His defences still stood raised, uneasy with the world and the peace it could offer.
But, as his brother assured him, small steps counted for something. This woman- Wen Qing, he conceded reluctantly to himself- was helping. For all that he resented her brother and the clan they came from, that was undeniable now. It was more than he would have allowed for in his youth. That had to count for something. For both of them.
“Good thinking.” The words came out ungraciously. Forced. Wen Qing’s eyebrows rose, more in surprise, he suspected, than in offense. That was most likely a sign of something, and one that Jiang Cheng was too tired to detangle right now. He considered himself lucky that she nodded, and made no more effort at conversation beyond that. It seemed that they had an understanding, uneasy as it was. Jin Ling came first.
In the end, that was all that mattered.