Work Text:
“You don’t have to invite him for my sake. It’s not like we’re friends any more.”
Jiang Cheng snatches the scroll from Wei Ying and frowns down at the hastily scribbled list of guests. “Nie Huaisang is the leader of a major sect,” he says, stuffing the list under an untidy pile of papers. “Of course I have to invite him.”
“A-Cheng, I--”
“Wei Wuxian.” Jiang Cheng drops his brush and leans back. Wei Ying flinches, ever so slightly, like he’s expecting to be on the receiving end of a famous Jiang Wanyin tirade, but Jiang Cheng just rubs his eyes.
Somehow, this is worse.
“This wedding is going to be perfect,” he says without much enthusiasm. “I couldn’t do it for Jiejie, but I can do it for you.” He looks up at his brother, frown relaxing a bit. “I want to do this for you.” He sighs and then squares his shoulders. “And if you ruin it, I’m going to tie you up and whip you. So, get the fuck out of my office. Your input is not required or requested at this time.” He waves his hand. “Go. Find something productive to occupy your time.”
Wei Ying looks like he wants to push the issue, but he has grown, a little, over the last year and a half, so he simply pours his brother a fresh cup of tea before taking his leave.
“The seating charts for the banquet?”
Jin Ling visibly takes a deep and centering breath before looking up at Jiang Cheng with a smile and saying, “They’re done, Jiujiu. They’ve been done for a week.” He looks down at the paper in his hands. “Food is done, entertainment is done -- the musicians arrive later today. Jinxu -- Hong Jinxu, one of my top disciples, you met him last year when you came to visit for new years -- is going to meet them with Liumei. Yes, I know, Liumei can do it on her own, but she is still recovering from that fall, so I asked Jinxu to offer his help, and she accepted.” He sets the paper down on the table and looks at Jiang Cheng again. “We’re ready, Jiujiu. We got this.”
Jiang Cheng chews on his lower lip for a moment. “Lan Qiren? Did you check the Dragonfly Hall to make sure it’s ready for the Lans? I ordered some of that foul tea he loves so much.”
“Jiujiu,” Jin Ling says, with a bit of a whine, “we got this! I checked the Lans’ quarters personally. There is no way I’m going to let things be less than perfect for the Lans. Jingyi would never let me hear the end of it! I’d have to challenge him to a duel for besmirching Jiang AND Jin honor!”
Jiang Cheng laughs and reaches out to ruffle Jin Ling’s hair. “Alright, alright,” he says, finally relaxing his shoulders. “What’s on your agenda for the afternoon?”
But before Jin Ling can answer, a maid knocks on the door.
“Come in,” Jiang Cheng calls.
A-Lin, one of the maids tasked with attending to Jiang Cheng personally, steps in and bows. “Jiang-zongzhu, you have a visitor.” She looks over her shoulder and takes another step inside the room. “I can tell her to go away,” she says, voice dropping to a whisper.
Jiang Cheng glances at Jin Ling. “Who is it?”
A-Lin purses her lips and says, “Nie Shanyi.”
Huh.
Nie Shanyi is second in command at the Nie Sect, a cousin of Huaisang’s who’d grown up in a city far east of the Unclean Realm, returning after -- after everything had fallen apart here, after her own father had died, offering her sword and service to her blood family.
Jiang Cheng is actually quite fond of her.
Jin Ling makes an unclassifiable noise, and Jiang Cheng has to swallow a laugh.
“Send her in, A-Lin.”
“Yes, sir.” She bows. “Do you require tea?”
Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “I don’t think she’ll stay long.”
“Very good.”
A moment later, Nie Shanyi sweeps in, bowing with an elegant flourish, first to Jiang Cheng and then to Jin Ling.
“Jiang-zongzhu. Jin-zongzhu.”
Jin Ling turns bright red, and Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “Good morning, Nie Shanyi.” He elbows Jin Ling, who mutters a good morning.
Jiang Cheng isn’t sure when Jin Ling had time to develop an enormous crush on Nie Shanyi, but he gets it. She’s tall, decisive, confident. She’s got a wicked sense of humor and dark, sparkling eyes. She also exudes what Jiang Cheng privately thinks of as “Big Jiejie Energy,” so it’s only a matter of when, not if, Jin Ling will have to nurse his first real heartbreak.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Jiang Cheng asks.
Nie Shanyi stands with her hands clasped behind her back. “This one has come with offers of assistance. Nie-zongzhu has bid me tell you that Nie disciples are willing and able to assist with any and all matters, no matter how small.” She smiles. “He said, and I’m quoting here, so don’t get mad at me, ‘tell Jiang-xiong I’ve brought my calligraphy supplies.’” Nie Shanyi rubs her nose bashfully. “Uh, he didn’t actually say ‘Jiang-xiong,’ but everything else is a quote.”
Jiang Cheng can feel Jin Ling bristling beside him, and he gets it. It’s taken a long time for Jin Ling to manage icy politeness whenever he sees Nie Huaisang at conferences and meetings. He wouldn’t blame his nephew --he’d have to support him, in fact -- if Jin Ling chose to snub Nie Huaisang for the rest of his days. His own feelings about his … about Huaisang … sit in a complicated knot in his stomach.
He lays a hand on Jin Ling’s arm.
“Please tell your master that we wouldn’t dream of asking for anything. The Nie are honored guests. It would be shameful to put a guest to work.”
Nie Shanyi shakes her head and grins. “That’s what I told him, sir, but he insisted.”
“He couldn’t come himself to talk to Jiujiu?” Jin Ling grumbles.
“A-Ling.” Jiang Cheng pats his shoulder then stands up, pulling Jin Ling up with him. “It’s nearly lunch time. A-Ling, why don’t you take Nie Shanyi over to the family dining hall? They’ve got yú tóu lú on the menu.”
Jin Ling blushes again, but he bows stiffly to Nie Shanyi, whose eyes dance with laughter, and leads her out of Jiang Cheng’s office.
Jiang Cheng sits back down with a grunt and rubs his eyes.
Nie Huaisang.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He had to invite Huaisang, of course. Despite the unconventional couple at the center of this whole affair, he was still hosting a sect wedding, and that came with certain expectations. Huaisang was already pushing it by outright offering help. For a moment, Jiang Cheng feels a prickle of his old insecurities, a flash of anger that someone was doubting him, doubting his abilities to carry out his duties with perfection.
But it’s just a flash. The events at the temple had done one good thing for him -- after all they’d gone through, all they had survived, in order to be where they are today, Jiang Cheng rarely felt like he wasn’t enough.
Only his brother, however inadvertently, really brought out those feelings in him these days.
And Nie Huaisang.
Jiang Cheng gets up again and walks over to a set of low shelves placed beneath a window overlooking one of the lakes. He tugs at a woven basket, takes off the lid, and takes out a small round paper fan.
He’d found the fan among his jiejie’s things after-- and he recognized Huaisang’s distinctive, elegant brushstrokes immediately. He never did find the time to ask when Huaisang had painted the fan for his sister, or when he had given it to her. Perhaps he’d sent it along with M- with Jin Guangyao, after the man had come to visit Qinghe. The lacquer on the handle is worn away in spots, and the scene on the fan, of one of Lotus Pier’s namesake piers, is starting to show signs of age, but he can’t resist fanning himself for a few moments. He can almost detect the faint fragrance of osmanthus hair oil his jiejie had favored after her marriage, the kind Jiang Cheng kept for Jin Ling, though he could never bring himself to tell Jin Ling why he always used that particular fragrance when he looked after Jin Ling’s hair as the boy was growing up.
He sighs and puts the fan back in the basket. He should probably find time to talk with Nie Huaisang, but, despite Jin Ling’s reassurances, he knew there was more to be done in the next three days to prepare for the wedding. He calls for A-Lin to bring him more tea and a few pork buns, then sits back at his desk and gets to work.
“You’re a good boy,” Lan Qiren says. There are tears in his eyes as he hangs onto Jiang Cheng’s arm, not that Jiang Cheng will ever tell a soul. Not when he is planning to skin alive whatever miscreant gave the old man some wine.
“Thank you, sir,” Jiang Cheng says as he tries to discreetly help the acting sect leader of the fucking Lans, fuck! back to his rooms before someone notices and raises a stink about it. He’s grateful that Jin Ling had the foresight to drag the younger Lans off for a bit of moonlight swimming, giving Jiang Cheng cover to escort Lan Qiren out before he did or said anything he might be embarrassed by in the morning.
“Your mother would be proud.”
Jiang Cheng stumbles a moment at this unexpected emotional hit, but swiftly recovers his footing.
“Thank you, sir,” he says again, because what the fuck do you say to something like that? He grits his teeth and steers the unsteady man along the broad path to Dragonfly Hall, and oh, thank the gods and all the stars, there’s A-Lin!
“A-Lin!” Jiang Cheng hisses. He feels a bit badly about calling her over. He’d given his personal household staff the evening off to enjoy the festivities as thanks for their hard work during the planning stage, but he can’t manage Lan Qiren, who is now starting to reminisce about Jiang Cheng’s days at Cloud Recesses with increasing sincerity, on his own.
“Jiang-zongzhu? What-- oh.” A-Lin holds up a hand and hurries down a side path. She comes back with -- yes! Perfect! -- a young man, Junlong, who he recognizes as one of the newer Lan disciples, one of the more levelheaded youngsters running around.
He should probably ask A-Lin why Junlong was so close at hand, but right now, all he cares about is getting Lan Qiren back to his rooms with minimal fuss.
“Jiang-zongzhu,” Junlong says, expression serious, “thank you. I’ll make sure Lan-laozu gets back safely.” He takes Lan Qiren’s arm, then looks around furtively. “Do you know who--”
Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “But I’ll find out. Discreetly.” He straightens the collar of Lan Qiren’s robes. “If anyone saw us, I’m sure they just thought Lan-laozu was tired. A-Lin, I know I gave you the night off, but--”
A-Lin nods as she goes to Lan Qiren’s side and takes his other arm. “Don’t worry, Jiang-zongzhu, it’s alright.”
Jiang Cheng smiles gratefully. He bows to Lan Qiren. “Goodnight, sir,” he says. “I’ll see you for break -- for lunch tomorrow, in the family dining hall.”
Junlong ducks his head to Jiang Cheng. “I’ll make sure he joins you.”
“Good boy,” Lan Qiren says distantly, eyes drooping closed. “Always thought so.”
“Alright, sir,” A-Lin says smartly, turning Lan Qiren towards Dragonfly Hall before any more inconvenient emotions can make themselves known. “Let’s get you some tea.”
Jiang Cheng waits on the path, watching them go, before turning back toward the grand banquet hall. He really should go back. It would be unseemly to leave the festivities before the happy couple. By his estimate, he has about an hour to go before Lan Wangji tosses propriety on its head and hauls Wei Ying off to their personal -- and heavily fortified with privacy and noise-cancelling talisman quarters.
He shudders at the thought.
But a Jiang does not shirk his duties. He shakes out the sleeves of his robes and turns around to rejoin the party.
He is in sight of the banquet hall when he catches motion out of the corner of his eyes.
“Jiang-zongzhu.”
Jiang Cheng turns around.
Of course.
He bows, back perfectly straight, and says, “Nie-zongzhu.”
“A- Ah, Jiang-zongzhu,” Huaisang says, “fancy meeting you here.”
Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Getting some air?”
Huaisang opens his fan and waves it languidly in front of his face. “Something like that,” he replies. “That Ouyang lad has been chattering nonstop since the beginning of the banquet.” He grins ruefully at Jiang Cheng. “And while I do appreciate the care Jiang-zongzhu obviously took, arranging the seating so I would be near someone with an evident appreciation of art, I--” He trails off.
“You?” Jiang Cheng prods when Huaisang’s attention drifts to the willow trees lining the walk.
“Oh, yes. I fear we have … divergent tastes, when it comes to current popular literature.”
Jiang Cheng studies him for a moment, then laughs. “He yapped at you about that Tiger Auntie series, didn’t he?”
Huaisang groans and rubs his eyes. “Yes! Gods, yes! I thought I kept up on current trends well enough, but this series!”
Jiang Cheng shrugs. “I didn’t think it was that bad,” he says. He takes a step around Huaisang and gestures for him to come along.
Huaisang makes a jerky motion, like he wants to take Jiang Cheng’s arm as they walk, but he stops himself, clasping his hands behind his back instead. Jiang Cheng pretends not to notice.
“You read it?” Huaisang says as they walk along.
“A-Ling wouldn’t shut up about it,” he says. “It’s fine. I like the secondary couple -- the huntress and the scholar?”
“At least someone has good sense,” Huaisang mutters. “But don’t you find the rest of it to be so … tame?”
“Compared to what?”
“A- I don’t know,” Huaisang says, cutting off abruptly. He is clearly wrestling with something, and Jiang Cheng, perhaps cruelly, doesn’t feel like throwing him a lifeline. Not yet. “Compared to the things we used to read,” Huaisang says after a moment.
Jiang Cheng glances at Huaisang, but Huaisang is staring off ahead.
“You mean the things you used to give me, just because you were an ass who liked to see me blush?”
Huaisang scoffs. “I was merely trying to broaden your horizons. You were so uptight.”
“Mn.” Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to get into an old argument. He slows as they approach an empty pavilion built among the willows. It’s more like a covered dock than a proper pavilion, reasonably private by virtue of the trailing willow branches. He turns to the side. “Would you like to sit down for a bit, or were you ready to return to the festivities?”
Huaisang turns to look at Jiang Cheng, something complicated going on in his eyes, but he nods and smiles. “I’d like to sit with you for a while.”
“Come on, then.” Jiang Cheng lights a few of the paper lanterns that hang from the roof covering the deck and then sits on one bench, and Huaisang sits opposite him.
Which is fine. It’s appropriate.
“Anyway,” Huaisang says, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation, “don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy those books.”
Jiang Cheng grimaces. “I liked the one about the demon hunting agency,” he says grudgingly.
“Oh, yes! That’s one of my favorites! I reread it every year or so. Did you know the author has other books? He has one that’s something of a prequel to the demon hunters.”
“I didn’t.”
“I’ll send it to you,” Huaisang says eagerly. “You’ll love it!” He fans himself until a cool breeze picks up over the lake. “He’s written one set in the present day. I don’t love it as much as his historical stuff, but I swear, he’s got to be part of the jianghu, because he really nails the dynamics.”
Jiang Cheng looks over at Huaisang in surprise. “You don’t know who the author is?”
Huaisang shakes his head. “I haven’t been able to ferret it out, although to be fair, I have been busy for the last … fifteen years.”
“Ah. Yes.”
The silence between them edges towards awkwardness, but then Huaisang sits up and looks at Jiang Cheng.
“A- Anyway, I have a surprise for you.”
“Really?”
“Really. And it’s a good one.”
“Is it?” Jiang Cheng crosses his arms at his chest and leans back.
“Really.” Huaisang closes his fan and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Now, I know you said you didn’t need any help with the wedding, but I remember how the the happy couple can get when they are…”
“Fucking like those fucking rabbits?” Jiang Cheng supplies.
“Yes. Exactly how I would have phrased it. How diplomatic you are, Jiang-zonzhu.”
“Huaisang.”
“Right. Anyway, I had some time to refine those talismans. You remember the ones I made back when we were kids?”
Jiang Cheng nods. Creating a new privacy talisman had been the one area of study to which Huaisang seriously applied himself, especially after Lan Wangji had caught them all in Jiang Cheng’s rooms that one time.
“They are quite remarkable now, if I may boast.”
Jiang Cheng raises skeptical eyebrow as Huaisang fishes a paper out of his sleeves. “Really. Just one of these effectively hides an area roughly the size of those student rooms back at Cloud Recesses. If you’re standing outside an area protected by one of these, you can’t hear a single thing, nor can you see, say, the silhouettes of … activities … that might be going on.” He holds out the paper talisman to Jiang Cheng.
As Jiang Cheng inspects the construction, Huaisang goes on.
“Yes, so, one talisman effectively creates the illusion that no living creature is within the radius of protection.” He leans close and taps a radical at the bottom. “See this? This one sets up a sort of physical boundary.”
Jiang Cheng peers at the radical, one denoting illness and weakness. “How?” he asks, interested despite his reservations about how close he should be with Nie Huaisang.
“Okay, so it doesn’t actually create a physical boundary,” Huaisang says. He leans a bit closer to Jiang Cheng and strokes the paper with a slender finger. “It’s not like the boundary guards for places like Cloud Recesses, where you need a talisman to pass. Instead, it creates in the person who gets too close a feeling of dread. Or a queasy sort of feeling in the pit of the stomach. Basically, it makes the person who gets too close want to get away, quickly.” He sighs. “I haven’t figured out how to create a proper physical boundary, at least not without using the basis of Qinghe’s boundary protections, and those, you understand, are something I don’t want to get out to the jianghu at large.”
“Of course not,” Jiang Chen murmurs as he inspects the talisman closer.
It’s a brilliant bit of cultivation. He was impressed with Huaisang’s earliest prototypes from their student days, but this -- this sort of cultivation work required a much stronger core than he would have expected Huaisang to develop, even after … everything. He looks up at Huaisang, and his face must be doing something embarrassingly earnest, because Huaisang ducks his gaze, and he looks really pleased, not just that fake simpering act he still has the audacity to put on now and again.
Jiang Cheng discards a number of increasingly awkward remarks and asks, “How long does one of these last?”
Huaisang exhales and his posture relaxes. “About two hours. That’s another knot I haven’t untangled -- how to make the effects last longer. These are expensive, both in terms of energy and materials.”
Jiang Cheng peers at the talisman again. He can’t quite decipher what the ink might be made of in the dim light of the lanterns, he detects a faint shimmer -- some sort of crushed mineral? -- and he rubs the paper between his thumb and forefinger. It's heavy, not the usual fibers one would expect even from the finest calligraphy paper.
“The effect is multiplied by hanging more than one talisman,” Huaisang says, and Jiang Cheng decides not to pry further into the construction of the talismans for the moment since Huaisang seems disinclined to elaborate.
“How many did you hang up around their pavilion?” he asks instead.
Huaisang grins at him. “Eight. It seemed auspicious, and it will give you all about twelve hours of peace and quiet.” He pauses and taps his chin with his fan. “Maybe ten. Wangji’s cultivation is more powerful than those of my test subjects, and Wei-xiong is--”
“A disaster who will break anything that can be broken,” Jiang Cheng says ruefully.
“I was going to say unpredictable, but yes.”
Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “And how did you get A-Ling to help you?” When Huaisang doesn’t answer, Jiang Cheng says, “Come on. A-Ling has been planning this with me the whole time.” He laughs. “I think he used it mostly as an excuse to escape from Lanling more often than he might otherwise allow himself. Some of the Jin elders were making noise about him getting married, and he -- well, he’s a lot like his jiujiu sometimes. But instead of losing his temper, he avoided the questions by physically running off.”
“I can’t say I blame him,” Huaisang murmurs. He smiles when Jiang Cheng gives him a quizzical look. “There aren’t nearly as many Nie elders as Jin, but a few have become remarkably vocal about sect continuity.” He shrugs. “I see where they’re coming from, but I -- well, it’s not something I like to think too closely about if I can help it.”
Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what to say to that -- he doesn’t know what he should say to Huaisang -- so he merely nods.
“So A-Ling…”
“Oh, yes,” Huaisang says, smile returning. “I gave him a dozen talismans of his own, as well as instructions on how to make them for himself. Of course, I made him promise not to share that around too widely, but I remember what it’s like. Sometimes, you just want to take a nap, or need to shout, or need a few minutes to be left alone.”
“Hah, yeah.” Jiang Cheng hands the talisman back to Huaisang. “Well, that was really kind of you, Nie-zongzhu.”
Huaisang tucks the talisman back into his sleeve and sighs. “I wish you’d say my name,” he says, so softly that Jiang Cheng could pretend he didn’t hear it.
Jiang Cheng takes a breath.
“Huaisang.”
Huaisang looks up at him.
“Yes?”
“You can … you can say my name, too.”
“A…A-Cheng?”
Jiang Cheng grips his sleeves. “Not that. Not yet,” he hastens to add as Huaisang flinches. “But Wanyin. That’s okay. We… we’ve known each other for a long time.”
“Wanyin.” Huaisang is hesitant, but he can’t quite hide the pleasure in his eyes. “Wanyin.” He grins at Jiang Cheng. “Wanyin.”
“Huaisang?” Jiang Cheng says, amused.
“Jiang Wanyin, would you … would you like to come to Qinghe for a visit?”
When Jiang Cheng doesn’t immediately answer, Huaisang bites his lip and fiddles with the tassel on his fan.
“I am sure you’re very busy,” Huaisang says after the silence has stretched on too long. “Forget I--”
“No!” Jiang Cheng shakes his head, then smiles at Huaisang. “No, I want to. Sorry.” He laughs. “I was just thinking about my schedule. I’d like that.” He stands and stretches, then offers Huaisang his hand. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen snow. I could come for a bit before the new year, if that works for you?”
Huaisang stands and lets go of Jiang Cheng’s hand. They walk together toward the banquet hall.
“I’ll have Shanyi look at our calendar and send you some options.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” Jiang Cheng hesitates, wanting to offer Huaisang his arm, but he can’t. Not yet.
But, he thinks as they walk on, chatting about the wedding, maybe soon.