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Chapter Text

Jin Ling groaned at the mounting stack of paperwork. How the hell did Jiujiu and Xiao-Shushu manage to stay on top of running a sect and still have time for anything else? Jin Ling had no idea. 

Between complaints, training schedules, and the occasional cousin trying to bury a knife in his back, Jin Ling was about ready to take Fairy and become a rogue cultivator. 

It was stupid! No wonder Jiujiu had no patience for politics. It was such a waste of time, especially when there were night hunts and people dying because there weren't enough cultivators to help everyone. 

Fairy whined at his feet, poking her cold nose into Jin Ling's hand. She was as bored as he was. "We'll see Jiujiu next week," he scratched behind Fairy's ears and smiled when her back leg pawed at the air in pleasure.

It would not have been a fun visit, not with the anniversary of Lotus Pier's fall. Jiujiu was always a ball of anger and grief, barking orders to ensure that everything was in place for the people of Yunmeng to release lanterns on the river in memory of those they had lost. 

A permanent sorrow trailed after the inhabitants of Lotus Pier as they remembered all those lost, cultivators and civilians alike. Those who remembered the night the rivers turned red wore their heartbreak on their sleeves. And even the new disciples grieved for the sect members that would have been their elders. 

Jin Ling had only known Lotus Pier under Jiujiu's leadership. Sure, his grandparents died that night, but he had never known them and could count on one hand the number of times Jiujiu had spoken about them. 

The whole thing only served to remind him that no matter how much time he spent in Lotus Pier, he would always be a Jin. He was just a spectator, an outsider, to their grief. With nothing to share, no stories or memories, Jin Ling couldn't imagine a different Lotus Pier other than the one Jiujiu had built. 

So, every year, Jin Ling awkwardly stood by Jiujiu as he delivered a short prayer for the dead before the inhabitants of Yunmeng. And this year promised to be especially weird, what with Da-jiu planning on being there.  

Fairy's ears perked up as she turned, tail wagging, to the door. It was all the warning Jin Ling got before the doors flung open with a shout of "Little Mistress!" 

He scrambled to his feet as two very familiar and very welcomed Lan disciples entered. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

Fairy lunged at Jingyi, barking happily and waving her tail frantically.  

"Jin-zongzhu," Sizhui bowed, and only the teasing smile kept Jin Ling from wanting to slap that Lan courtesy out of him. Honestly, friends and family were the only people you didn't have to be formal or artificially polite to. At least, that's how Jiujiu raised him to believe. 

Jingyi tumbled to the ground, playfully wrestling with Fairy. Every time, he wasn't sure if it was him or Jingyi coming to see him, or the dog. 

"Nighthunt!" Fairy wriggled under his hold, panting loudly. "There's been some corpses coming out of the Burial Mounds, so we thought we would rescue you and Wei-qianbei from boring sect stuff!" 

Right. They wouldn't know. Da-jiu had disappeared off to Lotus Pier. 

Wei Wuxian had developed the annoying habit of stopping by randomly, so often that Jin Ling had just had a room permanently ready for him. Sometimes, only for a night; other times, he would stay the whole week. Each time, Da-jiu managed to stir Jinlintai into a frenzy. 

It was amazing how the elders backed off the second Da-jiu appeared. All Wei Wuxian had to do was sit beside him, eating snacks, not even bothering to pay attention, for the tide to turn in Jin Ling's favour. Spending and discipline training that the elders had been fighting him on for weeks suddenly lost all opposition. 

Another added perk of Da-jiu's visits was that Jin Ling could sleep easily. No assassin dared to try to kill him in the middle of the night, not with the Yiling Laozu lurking in the room next door. 

Did he have to deal with his liquor stores dropping at alarming levels? Yes. Or disciples complaining about being made to run extra laps? Also yes. But it was so worth it if it meant Da-jiu was there watching his back. 

Wei Wuxian's spontaneous visits were all fine when it was to Jinlintai, but that could not be said when he pulled the same stunt in Lotus Pier. 

"Listen." Jin Ling scowled as he brushed off Jingyi's arm from his shoulder. "Wei Wuxian and Jiujiu are finally not fighting. Whatever is happening in the Burial Mounds can't get in the way of that." Jin Ling wouldn't let a centuries-old haunted nightmare interrupt those two from hashing out their feelings. 

"I don't think we should handle this without Wei-qianbei." The corner of Sizhui's mouth tugged into a slight frown, his words polite, but leaving no room to doubt how he felt.  

Jin Ling crossed his arms, staring at his friend, "This is Wei Wuxian's first time in Lotus Pier since… You know…" 

His words faltered at the memory of Jiujiu pleading for anyone he could find to pull Suibian from its sheath. Wei Wuxian had stayed clear until the twenty-fifth anniversary of Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan's deaths. Jin Ling would attend the lantern ceremony on the actual date, but he was trying to give his uncles time to do whatever they needed to attempt to mend their relationship. 

"Besides, it's a mourning period for them, and Da-jiu hasn't ever had a chance to be there for one." 

"Are you sure leaving them alone together is a good idea?" Jingyi poked his side. "I don't think Hanguang-jun would be okay with Jiang-zongzhu killing Wei-qianbei twice." 

"Jiujiu didn't kill him the first time!" Jin Ling bit back. Technically, Wei Wuxian killed himself. After Jiujiu broke the wards, which led to Sizhui's family being killed by Zufu's army, his traitorous mind supplied guiltily.

Ever since Sizhui explained his connection to the Ghost General and Da-jiu, Jin Ling had become distinctly aware of how much was stolen from his friend. Mainly by Jin Ling's family, unfortunately. Both sides of it. He winced. Jiujiu was the one person in the world Jin Ling trusted without question, but he respected the reasons Sizhui didn't. 

"Wei-qianbei deserves to be with his family." There was an odd note to his voice, a cold mixture of guilt and old hurts. 

Awkward silence reigned down on the three of them. Jingyi cast a concerned look at Sizhui, communicating without words like only those who grew up together could. Jealousy bit at him, greedily wanting to join in on that relationship. 

Instead, he stared at Fairy's fur, burying his fingers in her soft coat. With Xiao-Shushu and Shenshen dead, the spirit dog was his only friend in Jinlintai. Gone were the days he could fly to Lotus Pier when the loneliness was too much.

As a sect leader, there was paperwork to complete and entrance requests to process. Jiujiu said it was stupid that the family didn't need permission to visit each other. Still, Xiao-Shushu had left a meticulously efficient filing system that Jin Ling was loath to get rid of. Jin Guangyao might have done terrible things, but there was no denying that he was a genius, especially for the administrative side of running a sect. If Jin Ling allowed for elements of it to stop now, there would never be a way to fix it. 

So, yes, he did need to send an official request. Sorry, Jiujiu. 

With a heavy sigh, he let go of Fairy. There was going to be so much paperwork for this spontaneous night hunt. But Jiujiu and Da-jiu deserved this. He rang a bell to summon a servant, gave the orders for the supplies necessary for the three of them, and let the elders know where he was going. As an afterthought, Jin Ling wrote a quick letter for Jiujiu, sealed it, and passed it on with the instruction that it should be sent out if they were not back within a week. 

He ruffled Fairy's head, "You stay here and watch the fort," earning a whine of abandonment. Da-jiu had a knack for showing up whenever anyone started poking around the Burial Mounds, and if Fairy was around, he would be worse than useless. 

"Wow, little mistress," Jingyi wiped a fake tear and whispered loudly to Sizhui, "they grow up so fast." 

He looked Jingyi in the eye and commanded, "Fairy, get him!" Immediately, she set her eyes on the target and pounced. She bowled Jingyi over, licking his face furiously and rolling over his robes. From many years of experience, Jin Ling knew that dog fur was nearly impossible to get out of silk. 

Without giving Jingyi a chance to wriggle free from Fairy, he grabbed Sizhui out of the study and stormed to the entrance. Honestly, the disrespect! In his own home. Jin Ling was pretty sure there were at least a hundred rules of proper conduct when in front of a sect leader. 

Jin Ling ignored the trail of Sizhui's muffled laughter, letting his friend go when he doubled over, and continued his stubborn trek alone, cheeks burning with a fierce blush, all the way to the stairs of Jinlintai. When he could hear the sound of running, Jin Ling quickly hopped onto Suihua. The sword lurched into the air before evening out. 

As he grew his golden core, the sword stopped feeling like a stranger. The memory of the moment of overwhelming pride when Xiao-Shushu handed him Jin Zixuan's sword. Suihua, the golden beauty that carried his father through the war. The sword that remained sheathed when the Ghost General plunged his hand through Jin Zixuan's heart. Jin Ling reached out reverently to grasp the sword for the first time. 

The thrum energy was initially like a warm welcome, and for a second, Jin Ling had thought everything would be fine, that his father's sword could really be his. It only lasted a second before Suihua spiritually lashed out at him. The sword's anger burned his fingertips, threatening to drain his golden core if not sheathed immediately. 

Quickly, he did. The fear of the reaction being noticed was nearly as great as the terror that he would never be able to use his sword. 

What kind of cultivator couldn't even use their own blade?  

Jin Ling had done his best to hide the wince, not to burst into tears and run from the hall. In front of the entire Jin sect and Jiujiu, the embarrassment of having Suihua reject him would have been too much. 

He smiled and hoped it didn't look too much like a grimace, thanking Xiao-Shushu for presenting both his sword and courtesy name, doing his best to keep acting normal for the rest of the celebration. Foolishly, Jin Ling had also tried to avoid Jiujiu for the remainder of the night, terrified that his uncle would be able to read what was wrong the second he got a good look. 

For weeks, Jin Ling avoided the sparring grounds. He claimed he was better off practicing alone, especially if it was only with his cousins, because they were not much of a challenge.  Xiao-Shushu only smiled and tried to convince him that it was still good to work on his skills with others, but he didn't press the issue. 

It wasn't until he got to Lotus Pier that Jin Ling couldn't avoid the issue much longer. Jiujiu didn't put up with his refusal to learn for a second. There was never hiding of anything from his uncle. 

Thirteen and completely lost on how to use his father's sword, Jin Ling was easily defeated in a duel with a new Jiang disciple in a matter of seconds. Lying on the ground, exhausted, his golden core reaching a dangerously low level, tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. Jin Ling ignored the disciple's outstretched hand and bolted to his room. 

Suihua lay on the floor, the glint of the metal glaring accusingly up at him as if asking why he wasn't like his father? He curled around his knees, heaving silent tears. It wasn't fair. Suihua should have stayed Jin Zixuan's faithful companion. Jin Ling would have gotten a sword that didn't hate him, and his mom could have been cheering on his fights, and none of that would have happened, all because of the Yiling Laozu. 

The door opened, and without a sound, Jiujiu sat down beside him, placing Sandu on his lap. "Brat, did you even introduce yourself?" With a sniff, Jin Ling unburied his head from his knees, turning to look at his uncle. But Jiujiu was only focused on Sandu, with an odd expression. "Let the sword get to know you." 

Hesitantly, half expecting Suihua to burn him again, Jin Ling pulled the sword onto his lap. Jiujiu walked him through, step by step, how to meditate with his sword. His uncle had never been one for explanations; his teaching style was more of a 'learn through action' type. But this was different. Jiujiu's words echoed with distant memories as if repeating someone else's words.   

It made more sense now, after Guanyin Temple, to explain why Jiujiu knew exactly how to help. A tiny, very nasty voice whispered that at least he wasn't alone in this. Jin Ling tempered down the thought immediately. Nothing about that was okay, and no part of him should have any sort of relief about that. 

But ever since then, Jin Ling has poured hours into bonding with Suihua. He let the sword get used to his presence, staying in the training yard long past anyone else, and slowly, they have become a team. 

Now, Suihua glided through the harsh wind above the Yiling with ease, its steady pull on his golden core so familiar that Jin Ling barely registered it. 

In front of him, Sizhui took the lead, his white robes cutting through the darkening clouds. The closer they got, it was only because of the Lan robes that he was able to keep track of Jingyi, even as he flew only an arm's length away. The air felt thickly coated with resentment, the oily miasma blotting out the sun, leaving everything a dull grey.  

As they land on the outskirts, he's reminded of how much he hates the place. 

The Burial Mounds never failed to cause the hair on Jin Ling's neck to stand on end. Even in the outskirts, dead-eyed crows watched as they moved through the decaying forest. The first time had been bad enough; at least then, he was unconscious for most of it, leaving with Jiujiu and Wei Wuxian. 

This time, it was just them. A shiver ran down his spine as that reality hit him, and Jin Ling quickened his step to catch up to Sizhui at the front of their little group. He had no idea where they were or their destination, but he trusted Sizhui. 

Plus, Da-jiu made this place livable once. The corpses that had attacked them before were called by Su She, and between the three of them, Jin Ling could almost convince himself that they would be fine. 

Below his boots, the crunching of bones dismantled the lie instantly. This is not a place for the living, but only Jingyi seems to share the thought. His friend glanced around, eyes skirting the shadows that followed them. Yet Sizhui continued, strolling as easily as if they were in the Cloud Recesses. 

This place was awful, and Jin Ling would hold that opinion until the day he died. 

He glanced at Sizhui. The only person who was this nonchalant about the dead was Da-jiu. It was still hard to believe that the two of them had once called this place home. Jin Ling was sure that even if he spent a year here, the place would still terrify him.

Weirdos, the pair of them. Did they really not feel how creepy it was here? Everything seemed to want to kill them. Especially as the dried trees grew thick, erasing any light that might have snuck through. At this point, it was nearly impossible to see the path, let alone what was around them. 

"Sizhui." Jingyi broke the odd, silent reverie that followed their group since landing, and Jin Ling was just glad he wasn't the one who caved first.  "I think we should—" Before he could continue, a figure moved to their left. 

Whipping around, Jin Ling's heart sank. 

How did they miss them?

Scores of corpses move jerkily towards them, unnaturally silent. Jin Ling swears under his breath, the words choking on the thickening miasma. Fuck. His golden core struggled to fight against the resentment that was trying to sink its icy fingers into him. At this rate, they wouldn't even be able to fly out. 

Their only choice was to fight, to fight and hope they could run far enough away that it wouldn't drain them completely to attempt swordflight. 

Suihua cut through the first corpse. Rotting flesh stained the blade as Jin Ling aimed for the next. Jingyi's blade emerges from the neck of a corpse that managed to slip past Sizhui.

The two Lans, perfectly in sync, slice through creature after creature. The pair of twin white robes moves in more of a dance than a fight. But even as Sizhui managed to decapitate a corpse, it's not enough. 

There were too many. 

Jingyi went down first. Nails raked across his shoulder with enough force to knock him to his knees. Without sparing a thought, Jin Ling lunged towards his friend, Suihua, piercing the back of the corpse that had injured Jingyi. 

He didn't notice until it was too late. 

A dead thing, clad in tattered golden robes, reached its skeletal fingers towards him. A cold grip yanked his ankle back as he moved back to dodge. In horror, Jin Ling realized he was falling. Falling into the claps of the dozen dead fingers that scattered the ground like macabre blades of grass. 

Jiujiu was going to be so mad. 

The whispers grow into a storm, drowning out the sound of their deaths fast approaching. 

The child. 

His little one. 

Ours?

No. No. 

Precious one. 

Return. 

Return, return, returnreturnreturnreturn. 

Return it to him. 

A million voices scrambled over themselves to be heard. Jin Ling's head felt like it was going to burst. He clasped his hands to his ears in a desperate effort to hide from the sound. It was of no use, not when the voices seemed to resonate from inside his skull.  

It did nothing. They were so loud, the shrieks of return bouncing inside his head. A spinning madness of sounds. Then, a shattering empty silence. 

And Jin Ling knew no more.

Chapter Text

He didn't expect to wake up. 

The corpse of a long-dead ancestor reaching out to take Jin Ling with him to the grave. In the Burial Mounds. Yup. He should be dead. 

Vaguely, through his clouded thoughts, Jin Ling wondered if this was what Wei Wuxian felt. 

Gingerly, he got to his knees, taking into account that every muscle cried out, and even his bones felt bruised. However, as Jin Ling attempted to push qi to soothe the pain, the energy found no injuries. 

"Sizhui!" Jingyi's panicked shout added to his growing headache. With all his willpower, Jin Ling pried his eyes open. Only then did he become aware of two things. One, his friends were just as surprisingly alive. Jingyi knelt by a very startled Sizhui. The two Lans didn't look any more injured than before. With quiet voices, they fussed over the other two, quiet for Jin Ling to hear. 

"Anyone else surprised we're not dead?" Jin Ling asked as Jingyi helped Sizhui to his feet. 

"It's official, I hate this place." 

"I thought hating was against the rules." Jin Ling grinned, nudging Jingyi with his elbow. Jingyi's only response was to jab his fingers into the sensitive spot between his ribs, and a sharp giggle escaped before Jin Ling could stop it. 

Sizhui gave a long-suffering sigh at their antics. "We need to tell Wei-qianbei about this." 

He might have survived the Burial Mounds, but his fate might still come to an end when Jiujiu found out about their little adventure. Great. It was unavoidable now. No matter how badly Jin Ling wanted to handle this without his uncles, the truth was, they were way over their heads. 

"You think?" 

Sizhui ignored him, staring out into the darkness that writhed with creatures unseen. There was nothing Jin Ling wanted more than to leave. If he saw the Burial Mounds again in his lifetime, it would be too soon. 

By a stroke of luck, the miasma loosened as if hearing their conversation. Jin Ling didn't stop to think too hard about it. This place gave him the creeps. Hopping on Suihua, the three of them flew in a tight formation. So close that he could reach out and grab either of his friends. They didn't fan out, sticking tightly to each other even as the ground below faded back into a friendly shade of green.  

Luckily, Lotus Pier was only a short journey on the sword. What would be the days of walking narrowed into only a few hours. None of them separated. The experience left them all shaken. They could have died. The reality of that still hadn't fully sunk in yet. 

If whatever those voices were hadn't stepped in at the last second, they would be just another group of bodies in the Burial Mounds. The idea of Jiujiu finding his decaying corpse, or worse, his corpse attacking him, came to the forefront of his mind. Somehow, Jin Ling didn't think Jiujiu would be able to strike him down, even if his life depended on it. Would Da-jiu bring him back like he did the Ghost General? Could he? He would have to give up the title of sect leader, and Jin Ling shuddered to think which of his cousins would take over. 

He made a mental note to choose an heir when he got back. Maybe he would declare Wei Wuxian, technically, a Jin now. That might finally convince them to stop trying to assassinate Jin Ling. He mused on the elder's reaction and found it a great distraction from the panic that threatened to seize him again should he focus on their near-death encounter. 

The landscape grew more and more familiar, but Lotus Pier had never felt so far. Jin Ling couldn't wait to cash in his uncles. To know without a doubt that he was safe and alive. To have Jiujiu hug him even as he yelled at him. But he was a sect leader now, and it wouldn't be good for his reputation if he went crying to Jiujiu every time something went wrong.  

Turning Suihua, he led them to the edge of the main family quarters. Hopefully, they could find his uncles without being caught. Jingyi's sleeve was still torn, dried blood coating the white a muddy red, and when he broke the news that they went to the Burial Mounds, he didn't want to be covered in questionable corpse-dirt. It also gave Jin Ling a chance to steel his nerves so he didn't immediately start crying when he saw Jiujiu. 

"We can sneak in through the side kitchen." Jin Ling hugged the wall, peeking up. "No one ever goes in here, and Wei Wuxian's room isn't far." From what he dragged out of his uncle, the kitchen was made just for his mother, and without her, the rooms were abandoned, except for the occasional cleaning. 

"Sure, little Mistress." Jingyi helped lift him through the window. Not that he needed it. Jin Ling had been sneaking through this window since he was practically old enough to walk. Jiujiu was only slightly less protective now that he was convinced that Jin Ling wasn't about to drop dead every five seconds, but as a kid, he always liked to test how far he could push the boundaries. 

"I told you not to call me that!" Jin Lin called back. "Like I said, no one's here. Hurry up!" 

He winced as Jingyi tumbled through the window, hitting one of the boxes on the way down. Sizhui followed much more gracefully a second afterwards. At this rate, it would be no minor miracle if they had left kitchens undetected. The fact that Jiujiu hadn't come barrelling yet was surprising in and of itself. Jin Ling gave silent thanks to Wei Wuxian for keeping him occupied.

"Oh," a soft voice drifted through the room. "Can I help you?" 

Guess that meant their luck was up. 

A Jiang disciple Jin Ling hadn't seen before stood in the middle of the doorway holding a large pot of something that smelled incredible — Jin Ling made a mental note to steal some before they left. The soft lilac silk robes were too rich for her to be a servant, but Jin Ling couldn't think of any other reason why she would be in the Jiang family's personal kitchens. Anger flashed and vanished just as quickly. He didn't have the right to be jealous of someone entering a space meant for only his mother. If Jiujiu let her in here, it had to be okay. 

Beside him, Sizhui bowed. "Our apologies for any disruption, Guniang. We are merely hoping to speak with Wei-Qianbei." 

Shock coloured the Jiang disciple before she smiled brightly. "I was just on my way to find him." 

Jin Ling crossed his arms. This day just kept getting weirder. He observed the lady pour soup into a clay bowl. Jin Ling would have to discuss that with Jiujiu. If Wei Wuxian didn't count as worthy of the proper dishes, their meeting was going worse than he thought. Jiang Cheng must not want Wei Wuxian here, as after the soup was poured, the disciple scooped out chunks of meat and placed them back in the pot. 

Jiujiu was really not pulling back any punches. 

After filling a side bowl with a generous amount of rice and placing the dishes on a tray, they were off. 

As they walked through the inner halls, the feeling that something wasn't right set in the pit of his stomach. In some areas, the wood looked brand new, missing scratches and dents that he knew were there because he had been the one to put them there. As they rounded the corner to the Jiang personal courtyard, the scratches Jiujiu measured his growth were gone, sanded away. 

Sect Leaders don't cry, but his eyes stung with tears threatening to fall. First, the new Jiang disciple used his mother's kitchen, and now, evidence that he had grown up, at least partly, in Lotus Pier had been erased. 

Logically, he knew Jiang Cheng would likely marry. Besides him, no one shared his blood, and Jin Ling couldn't be Jin's sect leader while also being the heir to Lotus Pier. 

Still, after being just the two of them for so long, Jin Ling thought Jiang Cheng would let him know he planned to introduce someone new to their little family. 

Those thoughts came to a halt when the cold suddenly gripped him, and the scent of sulphur appeared from nowhere.  

Jin Ling pulled out his sword, and Jingyi matched his movement. The sheer amount of resentful energy was overwhelming, ice-cold, threatening to drown them. Where was Jiujiu? He would never let something this evil into Lotus Pier. Nothing this powerful could get through the wards. Jiujiu's countermeasures would stop it.

Where was he? 

Jin Ling's heart pounded in his ears. If Jiujiu wasn't here by now, then—

The panic was overwhelming. Jingyi caught on as his grip tightened on his sword, but Sizhui didn't move. A burst of annoyance briefly overtook fear. How could he be so calm at a time like this? His hazel eyes were only slightly wide as he stared at the roof of the main hall. 

"Shijie!" 

Despite the midday sun, the man on the roof seemed cloaked in shadows. There was something painfully familiar about the figure. The way he waved the bottle of wine itched at the back of his mind, but before he could piece the puzzle together, the Jiang disciple smiled brightly and shouted —

"A-Xian!" 

All three juniors froze. Jin Ling turned wide eyes to the Jiang disciple, who could only be one person: the future wife of Jin Zixuan and the current sister of two of the most dangerous people, Jiang Yanli. 

His mom. 

How did he miss it? 

It was apparent now that he knew what to look for. For his last birthday, Wei Wuxian gifted him a realistic portrait that made it easy to imagine that his parents were proud of him when they looked down from this paper home. But more than that, he should have realized when they first met that he had seen his own eyes looking back at him. 

Suihua trembled in his hands, and coming out of his shock, he hastily put the sword away. He didn't need a repeat of his last family reunion. 

"I brought soup, A-Xian. Could you find A-Cheng? We have visitors." 

Oh. 

Ooh. 

Seeing Da-jiu in his first life felt nearly as big of a shock as seeing his mother alive. Jin Ling was surprised Jiujiu recognized him at all. He certainly couldn't find any similarities between the smiling, soft Wei Wuxian he left behind. This wasn't the Da-jiu he left behind, the one who tried to make up for lost time by giving him handmade trinkets and telling him stories that Jiujiu still couldn't bear to. The only thing that might have hinted at his identity was those silver eyes, but even that was questionable. He could never imagine Wei Wuxian looking down at him with cold, dead eyes. 

Jin Ling shivered. 

One of the shadows warped and danced, slithering to drape over Wei Wuxian's shoulder. A pale hand caressed it lovingly as Wei Wuxian whispered something. It vanished, slipping away. "I have sent A-Mei to let Jiang Cheng know we have guests." 

Terrible and terrifying, the Yiling Laozu steps from the roof, the shadows eagerly reaching up to create a staircase of black. Jin Ling takes a huge step back as resentment pools around them as Wei Wuxian approaches. His only consolation is that he isn't the only one freaking out. Jingyi looks two seconds away from bolting. 

His heart beat frantically, instincts begging him to run. To get out of here! 

The twisted approximation of a smile Wei Wuxian gave didn't meet those lifeless silver eyes still trailing over them, lingered just a bit too long on a deathly pale Sizhui. The resentment wisps out to inch closer. "You look familiar."  Wei Wuxian moved like a predator, lethal and eerily observant. He couldn't tell that Sizhui was a Wen. There was no way, right? Hell, it was still a secret. Jin Ling only knew because he was roped into their weird little family by default. 

Right now, Sizhui, Wen Yuan, stood before Yiling Laozu, the cultivator who probably had an even higher body count than Wen Rouhan could ever imagine. And Sizhui's family made up most of it. 

"Wei-gongzi," Jin Ling watched as his friend entered a deep bow, not hesitating for so much as a second. Jingyi made a squeaking sound, like he was about to tell Sizhui to run, but had forgotten how to form words. "We met when I was a child and lived on the outskirts of Yiling." 

Wei Wuxian's eyes narrowed, the shadows pooling around him shifting closer to Lan Sizhui, but just before Jin Ling thought to step in, no matter how stupid it would be to challenge the Yiling Laozu, he stepped back with a shrug and another empty smile. "If you say so." 

Jin Ling released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.  

This was hardly his Da-jiu, the one who laughed away Jin Ling's anger, who came whenever he needed to. No, this was the Yiling Laozu in his prime.

Jiang Yanli smiled, stepping between them and the Yiling Laozu. At that moment, he thinks his mother is the bravest woman alive or the craziest. She doesn't even pause before shifting the tray into one arm and reaching to pinch his cheek as if the murder machine in front of them is only a small child. "Xianxian, if you don't hurry, the soup will get cold."

"Shijie, Xianxian doesn't want to share with Chengcheng!" Wei Wuxian whined, shuffling closer to his mother and grabbing the tray as she reached to pinch a hollow cheek. The switch from dangerous to playful younger brother left Jin Ling feeling whiplashed. 

It was unnerving to watch his mother, his tiny, dainty mother, laugh as she looped her arm around the Yiling Laozu. The Da-jiu he knew towered over exactly no one. Even after marrying the Chef Cultivator, Wei Wuxian hadn't managed to gain any sort of muscle. Mo Xuanyu's poor body just didn't seem to have the ability to be anything other than slim and fragile. 

Seeing Wei Wuxian now, he wondered if he ever missed being the most intimidating man in the room just by being there. Jin Ling was also selfishly glad that he wasn't. The Yiling Laozu was terrifying even as he joked about being three with Jiang Yanli.

Sizhui followed silently, amber eyes tracking Wei Wuxian's every move. Jin Ling also carefully kept his uncle in view, but more out of concern that he would snap and decide to murder them before they got a chance to explain to Jiujiu.  But Sizhui had the look he was watching for something else. For an answer to a question, what that question was, Jin Ling couldn't even begin to guess. 

No one interrupted their walk to the main hall. Tired-eyed disciples watched with thinly veiled suspicions. Jin Ling recognized several of them, and it hurt to see them look at him as if he were an outsider. He was used to a glowing welcome at Lotus Pier. Some of his earliest memories were of Jiang's disciples opening their arms to him, showering him with gifts and inviting him to join in. It was such a switch from being chased away by his older cousins. 

He bowed his head, refusing to meet their weary gazes. The homesickness that started in the Burial Mounds surged to whole new levels. Surrounded by familiar buildings that felt the furthest thing from home. 

Their procession moved more slowly, prolonging the agonizing tension within the group. But Jiang Yanli set the pace, unhurried and leisurely. Jin Ling didn't have to guess why. 

Wei Wuxian limped stiffly, more swinging his legs forward than walking. It was nothing like the graceful and playful way that Jin Ling had grown used to. 

There sat Jiang Wanyin, Sandu Shengshou. 

Jiujiu hated the throne and avoided sitting in it every chance he got. Jin Ling didn't know the reason until recently, when Da-jiu explained that Jiang Cheng disliked being untouchable in his own home. Lotus Pier recognized him as a sect leader, whether or not he had a throne. 

But Jiang-zongzhu sat, arms crossed, staring down at them. Wei Wuxian moved like a puppet, mechanical in his approach towards the throne. The times Jin Ling watched his Da-jiu plop down and spring back up were erased by the careful measures to gingerly lower himself to the floor beside the Lotus throne, like an attack dog waiting for orders.

He sees now what Jin Guangyao meant when he said that if Jiujiu had kept Wei Wuxian by his side, Yunmeng Jiang would have been unstoppable. 

Steeling himself, he bowed. "I am Jin Ling, courtesy name Jin Rulan, current Jin Sect Leader." 

This was so weird. Jiujiu hated formality on a good day but absolutely refused it between family. It didn't matter that Jin Ling was now a sect leader in his own right. Jiujiu didn't let that change anything. Didn't matter if they were meeting up for lunch or in front of the cultivating world. Jiujiu was Jiujiu. 

Beside him, Shizhui and Jingyi bowed in unison, giving perfect Lan introductions. However, only Jiang Yanli returned their greeting. His uncles pinned Sizhui down with twin glares. At least now Wei Wuxian seemed more curious than murderous.  

"Liars." Jiujiu eyed Sizhui with open suspicion before twisting Zidian. "Don't think I don't know a Wen dog when I see one." 

'That's it,' he thought, 'Jiujiu is actually going to kill me this time.' 

A dark mask clouded Sizhui's, a carefully curated blankness that hid the desire to bite back. When Jin Ling and Jingyi were his competition, Sizhui's patience was legendary. However, he pitied the person who insulted anyone Sizhui considered family. 

And right now, which at this moment just so happened to be Jiujiu. Great… 

In their time, Wei Wuxian would have jumped in and stopped this immediately. But when Jin Ling turned, hoping to find an ally, he was greeted with glazed-over silver eyes. He's seen Da-jiu get like this a couple of times, and it was never good. Usually, Hanguang-jun swooped in, bundled his husband up, and returned a few hours later with a worn but smiling Da-jiu. 

If Hanguang-jun wasn't around. It could range between Wei Wuxian being a shell of himself or … Jin Ling didn't really know how to describe it. Da-jiu still smiled, but it was sharper, the air around him stale and smelling like sulphur. Much like… how he was now. Which wasn't reassuring, exactly, but it did explain something about how Da-jiu acted in the present. 

No help from him then. 

Instead, it was his mother who stepped in. The corners of Jiang Yanli's mouth curved into a frown, her soft voice cutting through the growing tension like a knife.  "A-Cheng, they are our guests." 

"A Wen dog will never be a guest of mine." His voice was low, pronouncing each word so there could be no confusion. Jin Ling would have preferred if Jiang Cheng had shouted. Jin Ling had long since learnt that a quiet Jiujiu was a dangerous one.  His mother must have known that too, for she gracefully rose from her seat as if bracing for the storm, completely unflinching.

Jin Ling dashed in front of Sizhui, and even in the past, he could still read when his uncle was about to launch an attack. 

"The only good Wen dog is a dead one." 

Luckily, Jiujiu wasn't all that difficult to predict, and before Zidian could do so much as uncoil, Jiang Yanli had placed a firm hand over the ring. A flash of pain crossed her face. Immediately, Zidian vanished, and Jin Ling was pretty sure Jiang Cheng was about two seconds away from panicking.  

"Jiang Cheng, drop it." Wei Wuxian hoisted himself to his feet, hand gripping the lotus throne tightly. The movement caused Jiujiu to tear his gaze away from Sizhui, concern erasing anger. The fact that something was wrong with Da-jiu was becoming increasingly obvious. "So you three thought it was a good idea to poke inside the Burial Mounds?" 

He barely had a second to wonder how Wei Wuxian could have possibly known that before Jiang Cheng burst out in a flurry of rage, his desire to murder them momentarily forgotten. "You idiots, why the hell did you go there?" 

Jin Ling found the floorboards to suddenly be very interesting. They should have just listened to Sizhui. 

"Jiang-zongzhu, we didn't mean to." Jingyi didn't step away from Sizhui, the other still looking like he would be quite happy to bury his sword in the Jiang sect leader. 

"Jiujiu," Jin Ling stopped the word, feeling cold for the first time in his life. It was the wrong thing to say. Jiang Cheng rounded on them, furious. 

"Jiujiu? Who the hell are you calling Jiujiu?" 

Jin Ling recoiled as if physically struck. Never. Not once in his entire life had Jiujiu rejected him. He had, of course, seen his uncle mad, seen him enraged and hurting. But it was never on him. The Jiujiu Jin Ling grew up with was all bark and no bite. He would threaten to break his legs, and Jin Ling knew he never meant it. 

If this Jiang Cheng said it, though… he wasn't so sure. 

Against his control, Jin Ling felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes. 

"A-Cheng, I don't think they are lying." Jiang Yanli placed a hand over Jiujiu's, but her eyes were fully trained on him. 

Jin Ling wished he could hide from it. What did she think? Of the son shamefully hiding behind his friends like a scared little child. She was so young, too, barely older than them. The thought of having kids probably hadn't crossed her mind yet. His father certainly wasn't in the picture.  

The fact that she entertained their story at all astounded him. Jin Ling was sure that if their positions were reversed, he'd have already called the guards to have them removed from Jinlintai. 

"And I know that they aren't." Wei Wuxian piped up casually, completely unbothered, when four pairs of eyes turned to him. 

Jiujiu looked like he wanted to strangle him, especially when Wei Wuxian continued to ignore him, still looking at his instrument. "How exactly do you know that?" 

Wei Wuxian twirled Chenqing, the flute moving lazily through the air. "The Burial Mounds told me." 

The silence was so loud you could hear a pin drop. Jiang Cheng stared incredulously. "So it's true you were there."  

"That doesn't matter right now." Wei Wuxian stared right back at Jiang Cheng, like a snake, preparing to strike.

The issue was far from over; that much was clearly written on Jiang Cheng's face. But he wouldn't fight Wei Wuxian on it. Not now in front of strangers. 

He doubted Jiujiu would get an answer, however. Da-jiu was always frustratingly vague when it came to the Burial Mounds. The only reason Jin Ling knew that he had some kind of connection with the Burial Mounds was that it was impossible to hide how they had been held hostage. The whole area changed when Wei Wuxian came to their rescue. The resentful energy stopped drowning them the second he set foot in the cave. 

But no matter how many questions Jin Ling peppered Da-jiu with, he refused to give anything more than half-joking explanations. No one else seemed to know, either, and Jiujiu had complained once that 'that idiot didn't talk about.' Well, maybe Hanguang-jun did, but Jin Ling couldn't exactly go up and ask him about it. 

So he didn't hold on to hope that Da-jiu would change that habit, just because a time-travelling nephew was curious. 

Wei Wuxian's next words cut his previous line of thinking short. "I will also need to make a talisman to erase our memories of this." 

Jin Ling's blood ran cold. Right. The past couldn't be changed. Who knew what might happen if they started messing with things? He was stupid for not thinking about this before. For all they knew, it was already too late! 

What if they stopped existing? Well, Jin Ling. Both Jingyi and Sizhui had already been born. Jingyi would be safe. The Cloud Recess was far enough away that they shouldn't have changed anything. But Sizhui? Gods, he would still be in the labour camps. What if they caused the timeline to shift,  and Wei Wuxian didn't rescue him in time? 

He felt sick. 

"You can do that?" Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow at Wei Wuxian, doubt written on his features. 

Wei Wuxian just shrugged. "It's not hard; besides, I've been working on something similar; it shouldn't take long." Creepy. Jin Ling didn't want to know why Wei Wuxian was messing around with a memory-altering talisman. 

Jingyi seemed like he was about to ask the same question, but Sizhui cast him a look that stopped him dead in his tracks. 

“Wei-qianbei.” Sizhui started, "I thank you in advance for all your help." A heaviness hung to his words. 

Wei Wuxian eyed his friend, "You're so serious, little Lan." 

Finally, Jin Ling thought, a Da-jiu thing to say. A sense of relief washed over him at the acknowledgement that Sizhui was a Lan. Progress. That was progress, right? A good step away from potential murder. 

"Yay, maybe because he was raised by Ha—" He slammed his hand over Jingyi's mouth. Was he stupid? Hold that, Jin Ling knew the answer. A wet feeling ran along his palm, and he quickly shoved Jingyi away. 

Ew. Ew, ew, ew. Absolutely disgusting. Jin Ling wiped his hand vigorously on the white robes strung in a pile where Jingyi had landed. 

Distracted by the complete disregard for any resemblance to proper Lan conduct, he didn't immediately register it. 

Laughter. 

Soft and chiming that bounced lightly through the room. His mother's laughter. He stood still. And watched. Took in how her nose crinkled, how her cheeks creased with mirth, and how happiness made her absolutely radiant. 

He wasn't the only one watching Jiang Yanli. It was like a wire had been cut as a small amount of tension that clung to their shoulders vanished. 

Suddenly, he found himself not caring so much about how Jingyi had embarrassed them both. There was no price too high to hear Jiang Yanli's laugh. Only when her giggles tapered off did Jiujiu step back into business.  

"Don't expect anything." His voice held onto the harsh bite Jiujiu used for strangers, but it lacked the open hostility from before. "Share a room. It's not worth dragging more disciples away." 

Rude. What did Jiujiu think? That they were here to burn the place? Sizhui stood and bowed to each of them. 

A disciple Jin Ling didn't recognize entered, acknowledged Jiujiu, and strode out with a sharp. "Come with me." Wordlessly, the three of them trailed after the disciple, who seemed to be doing her best to pretend they didn't exist. 

She opened the door to the room, the one Jin Ling knew Jiujiu used for guests he wanted to keep an eye on. Being close to the main family quarters was not the honour it would be in Jinlintai. If anything, it was a threat. Try anything, and Sandu Shengshou would be the first responder. 

Jin Ling sank down at the table, burying his face in his hands. It was too much. He hated this. He wanted to go back home. To the Jiujiu, who called him a brat and hugged him like Jin Ling was the most precious thing in the world. 

Sizhui sat in front of him, Jingyi next to him, so close they were almost touching. At least they had each other. For a second, he deeply regretted leaving Fairy behind, but just as quickly as the thought came, it vanished. If Wei Wuxian was already this on edge, what would he do if he saw a dog? Somehow, he didn't put it past the Yiling Laozu to send one of his ghosts after her. 

"What are we going to do when they find out about—" Jingyi's whisper cut off abruptly with a soft knock at the door. 

The three cast a glance; the silencing talismans were still in place, and no one should be able to overhear them. However, with the creatures lurking in the shadows… 

The door opened, but no shadows or angry shouts followed. Only Jiang Yanli entered with a tray of tea and snacks. Warmth enveloped him; his mom was truly there. It was hard to believe how many times he had wished for this very scene. 

Jiujiu could never bring himself to talk about her, and Jin Ling wasn't cruel enough to force the issue. But ever since Da-jiu came back, he had finally heard stories about his mother. Of who she was as a person, and not just as the wife of Jin Zixuan. It made the ache deepen, but it was also bittersweet to know more about her.

"Lan-gongzi, if you would mind casting that talisman from earlier. I would like to speak to the three of you privately." 

Jingyi rose and offered to grab the tray from her, but Jiang Yanli just smiled and gave a slight shake of her head. "You are my guests. Please let me." 

How people could say his mother was plain, Jin Ling would never understand. Jiang Yanli radiated a gentle warmth, inviting, and someone that you instantly wanted to trust. She was the type of person that, without prompting, Jin Ling would spill his secrets to. Xiao-Shushu had worked hard to become like that, but his mother didn't seem to need to try. 

They were so fucked. How they would not spill all the secrets of the future, he really didn't know. 

"A-Xian is still healing from the war." Jiang Yanli reached to pour them tea, setting the pot down before speaking. Her eyes shone with a warm fierceness that made Jin Ling desperately miss his Jiujiu. "I must ask that you do not allow him or A-Cheng to discover my death." 

Oh. 

Chapter Text

She said it so casually.

As if apologizing for the inconvenience of getting them to keep the secret, Jiang Yanli didn’t even seem all that bothered by the knowledge that she had died. How? Why? Jin Ling bit his lip. 

“How did you find out?” Thank the heavens for Sizhui because if Jin Ling opened his mouth, he might cry, which would be embarrassing for all of them. 

“I find it hard to believe that my son would not know who I am.” Jiang Yanli didn’t waver, not even for a second, as she looked right at Jin Ling. “I would never abandon you under any circumstances but my death.” 

Da-jiu had told him stories of his mother, usually after being thoroughly bribed with alcohol. He would gush about his Shijie, how she was stronger than anyone else thought. Explaining that she was the only person in the world who could bring Jiang Cheng and him to heel. 

Later, when he finally gathered the courage to ask Jiuijiu if Wei Wuxian had really killed his mother, Jiang Cheng had only pinched his nose and given a gruff ‘No, I guess not really.’ It was all that was ever said about it, and Jin Ling wasn’t brave enough to ask Da-Jiu the same question. 

He couldn’t stop the tears this time. Gods, she must think he was pathetic as he rubbed his eyes furiously, desperately trying to will himself to stop. Jin Ling was the same age as his Jiujiu and Da-jiu, and they had just finished fighting in a war; he bet they didn’t start crying at silly things. 

Thin arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tightly. “Oh, A-Ling, I am so sorry.” She was so warm and alive, which only made him cry harder. How often had he wondered what it was like to be hugged by his mother? 

He had an answer, now. 

If Jiujiu’s hugs felt like security, of being the most cherished thing in the world,  a promise of protection, then Jiang Yanli’s were being blanketed in unconditional love. Silent acceptance and a silent acceptance and shield, stronger than any sword, that finally broke through the last of his defences

It was shameful, weak, for a sect leader to be reduced to sobbing into his mother’s arms— even if a small voice whispered that Jiujiu had done it too, in front of everyone in Guanyin temple. No one thought any less of the Sandu Shengshou. But he couldn’t help it. Especially when his mother just held him, and all the years of not having her suddenly felt real. 

When his tears finally dried, Jiang Yanli gave him another tight squeeze and promised to share a meal together, just the two of them, before retreating for the night.

“Good job on keeping the timeline.” Jingyi clapped slowly.  

“Shut up.” He muttered, wiping away the last of his tears. “Da-jiu will fix it.” If Wei Wuxian said he would do it, then Jin Ling believed in his uncle. With a sniffle, he looked up, sending a glare to Jingyi before turning towards Sizhui, who remained completely rigid throughout his entire, unfortunate breakdown.

He couldn’t tell what Sizhui was thinking. Gods, he was an idiot. Jin Ling wasn’t the only one teased by the possibility of meeting the people he had lost. 

This was the Wei Wuxian that saved him—the one who, in a few months, would set out to free Sizhui’s family. But right now, he was wholly ambivalent toward him. Worse, there was nothing they could do to help his family. Not without changing the timeline. 

Here, Jin Ling was getting hugs from his mom, while Sizhui’s family was starving, suffering, and dying in a Jin labour camp. 

“How did he know?” Sizhui muttered, seemingly to himself.

Who? Know what? A lot had been revealed tonight. Before he could ask, Jingyi spoke up. “We can ask Hanguang-jun when we get back, but Sizhui, don’t think about it too much, okay?” 

It clicked. Sizhui once mentioned that his parents had already been dead for a long time before they moved to the Burial Mounds. He hadn’t ever learned their names, even after travelling with the Ghost General. Back then, Sizhui didn’t seem too bothered, claiming that his fathers was enough. 

But if Da-jiu, who forgot the names and faces of everyone, remembered Sizhui’s… 

He looked at his friend. Other than Wen remnants, how many other Wens would he have been around long enough to remember? A sick feeling grew there, one story, so coated in blood that even the worst rumours of the Yiling Laozu didn’t dare mention it. 

“You think they killed his parents?” He blurted out and was glad it was that question, not the other one burning the back of his tongue. 

“I don’t know. Wei-qianbei probably wouldn’t remember if he had. It was war, Jin Ling.” Sizhui sighed, curling in on himself. “I can’t blame him.” 

Jin Ling didn’t think that was entirely true. For most of his life, he hated the Yiling Laozu for his role in his parents’ deaths. Even now, there was a nasty part of him that clung unwillingly to that. If Da-jiu had talked with Jiujiu or refused the invitation, things would have been different. It wasn’t fair, Jin Ling knew that. But it was still there, carefully and slowly being erased by the memories he built with Da-jiu now. 

“Still—” Jin Ling opened his mouth to say what he didn’t really know. Comfort? A question, maybe? But Jingyi caught his eye and shook his head quickly. 

Sizhui sagged with relief when he didn’t continue, exhaustion finally wearing down his composure. “It’s late, and it’s been a long day.” 

It was true, but nervous energy left him feeling wide awake and jittery. The last thing on Jin Ling’s mind was wasting time sleeping. Jingyi ignored the bed prepared for him, instead tucking the covers around himself and Sizhui. 

He crawled into bed and wished it were the room that Jiujiu assigned as his ever since he first brought Jin Ling to Lotus Pier. The night dragged on, and his only company were the soft chirping of fogs on the lake and the deep breaths of the two Lans. His mind whirred with the possibilities of what tomorrow would bring, of spending more time with his mother, of hopefully getting Da-jiu and Jiujiu to stop wanting to kill his friend. So many thoughts, but eventually sleep overtook him. 

The sun was too loud. 

Jin Ling rolled over, pulling that blanket over his head. Lotus Pier was safe and cozy; for once, he didn’t need to worry about assassins trying to slit his throat in his sleep. Jiujiu would be here soon to yell at him for staying in bed and lazing the day away, but it wouldn’t mean anything because he would come with a tray filled with Jin Ling’s favourites. 

Sighing, Jin Ling prepared to catch up on a few more minutes of sleep. The only thing that could make it better was if Fairy were here… But she would scare Da-Jiu. He jolted up. Fairy wasn’t here. They weren’t in his Lotus Pier. 

It took another few seconds for his mind to catch up and remember the events of the previous day, for the illusion that everything was okay to collapse completely. 

“Morning, Little Mistress.” 

Jingyi and Sizhui sat at the table, prim and proper, and likely had been awake for several hours. Fuck. He scrambled out of bed. 

“Good morning, Jin Ling.” Sizhui smiled softly, amusement lighting up his features. It was only then that he realized his state. Hair clung to the corner of his mouth, and his robes were half lifted to expose his belly. 

Mortified, he skirted around the privacy curtain, grabbing the extra robes by the tray without thinking. He was a mess. In front of them, Jin-zongzhu vanished, and only Jin Ling remained. But right at this moment, he half-wished for the mask. 

It was only then that he noticed whose robes these were. Purple. Soft in a way that Jin silk never could manage. Tears prickled at the corner of his eyes. It had been years since he last got to wear them. It was fine as a kid, but the second he became Jin Rulan, Xiao-shushu explained gently that it was no longer proper for the Jin heir to be seen in Jiang robes. 

He wasn’t Jiujiu’s heir, and they couldn’t pretend any longer. Idly, he would wonder what would have happened if his cousin had survived, if that would have changed anything. Jin Ling clamped that thought down, hastily finishing tying the robes and rejoining his friends. 

Sizhui pointed at the bowl of still-warm, hot-dry noodles. Nostalgia hit him like a blow to the gut the second he shovelled the thick sesame-coated noodles into his mouth. How many times had he eaten them with Jiujiu? To him, the noodles marked the changing seasons, where he could leave behind the loneliness of Jinlintai and be welcomed back into the Jiang disciples. 

“Jiang-nushi stopped by for breakfast, she told us to go to the main hall when we were ready.” 

He coughed, the spice burning as he choked on the noodles. Jingyi slapped his back just as Sizhui poured the remaining tea into his cup. Great, the day hadn’t even started, and he already wanted to crawl back into bed and start over. 

Chugging down the tea and ignoring how his voice broke, he asked the redundant question. “My mom was here?” 

“Only for a minute, she had to take food to Wei-qianbei; apparently, he was up all night.” 

Jin Ling could picture Da-jiu bent over notes that only he could understand, forgetting anything else existed. He’d done that after taking one look at the Jin ward arrays. Jin Ling hadn’t even thought they were that bad… Xiao-shushu wouldn’t leave them vulnerable. And that was partly true. Strong enough to stop an army, but littered with tiny holes, big enough for only one or two people to pass undetected. He’d try to stay awake, listening to his uncle complain about the ancient wards being such a mess and Jin Guangyao surely having more escape plans, so that it would be easier just to slip a new ward construct over top of everything. 

But that was Da-jiu in Mo Xuanyu’s body. When Jin Ling could sneak in snacks—because apparently the key was to eat and keep refilling —because the second Wei Wuxian noticed the bowl getting too empty, he would insist that Jin Ling finish the rest. 

This Da-jiu would probably bite his fingers if he tried that, even if he was in dire need of snacks.  

Guiltily, he finished off the last of the noodles. Hopefully, A-Naing could get him to eat something. Jin Ling was pretty sure that if it wasn’t for the oversized robes, he would be able to count each of Wei Wuxian’s ribs. 

“Let’s go.” Jin Ling stood. The longer they waited, the worse it would get.

Jiujiu hadn’t ordered them to stay… technically. But the Jiang disciples stationed at the door and windows sent a clear enough message. He opened the door, prepared to argue that they needed to go see the sect leader immediately, until Jin Ling saw who Jiujiu had sent to watch them. 

He did a double-take. Yu Jiayi. Jin Ling nearly didn’t recognize her without the vicious scar that tore the left side of her face. “Yu-shigu!” Then he clamped a hand over his mouth. 

Stupid. Jin Ling shouldn’t have said anything, not without Wei Wuxian confirming that he could create a memory-altering talisman.   

“Jiang-zongzhu has been expecting you.” She replied coolly. 

Sinking behind the two Lans, he felt like a kid again. As one of the few survivors of the massacre, war, and siege, Yu Jiayi was one of the few people Jiujiu trusted to watch him. No nonsense and strict, she’d been an equal force in making sure Jin Ling knew what was expected of him in terms of training. But as uptight as Yu Jiayi was, he knew that she would take a knife in the back for him. 

She turned around, striding forward, expecting them to follow. Jingyi turned to whisper what sounded like a rushed ‘scary’ to Sizhui. 

Ya, she kinda was, Jin Ling thought as they kept a respectful distance as they walked behind her. With a sharp knock, Yu Jiayi announced their arrival. 

“You’re awake. About time.” Jiujiu scolded, and it took all of Jin Ling’s willpower not to bark back a response.  It only lasted a second before Jiang Cheng turned to Yu Jiayi and ordered her to bring Wei Wuxian to the hall. 

Then it was just them. A harsh line furrowed Jiujiu’s brow as he glared down at them in tense silence. Jiujiu was younger than him, face rounded at the edges, but Jin Ling felt like a child waiting to be schooled. There was something about his eyes, already shadowed by the war, that sent a shiver down Jin Ling’s spine. 

Without his mother being present, he didn’t know how to act around this version of his uncle. The Jiujiu of his time had sharp edges that had been smoothed like a river-worn stone. Jin Ling knew where to poke if he wanted to annoy Jiujiu or how to replace a lecture with a sneaky hug. This Jiang Cheng, though, felt unpredictable. 

The fact that he kept fiddling with Zidian didn’t help either. 

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait long before the doors opened. Wei Wuxian and his mother stood, arms linked at the entrance. 

“Good news and bad news.” Wei Wuxian looked even worse than when they first arrived.  The area around his eyes was lined with thick, dark bruises, and somehow, he seemed even thinner than before. His arm looped around Jiang Yanli’s, and it could almost be casual if not for the way her hand gripped him. At that moment, she seemed to be the only reason he was upright at all.  With uneven steps, he crossed the room.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, and Jiang Cheng looked ready to leap from the throne just in case Wei Wuxian fell. Only when he settled cross-legged on the floor did Jiujiu relax.  

“First, though,” Wei Wuxian pulled out a small stack of talismans, throwing each a small bundle. “Bleed on this.” 

“Da-jiu!” Jin Ling recoiled. Why did he have to be so weird? He spared a brief glance at the paper and hoped that it was just red ink. “What the fuck.”

To his even greater distress, Sizhui nicked his finger and placed a small dot of blood on each one with zero hesitation. It was only a small cut, and with a flash of spiritual energy, it healed instantly. But still. Sizhui just gave his blood to the Yiling Laozu with no questions asked.

“Da-jiu? Not Shishu?” Wei Wuxian leaned forward, silver eyes boring into him, trying to puzzle the title out. 

He paused. A vague memory of the nightmares he had after being cursed in Nie’s tomb rose its ugly head. Jin Ling couldn’t remember the whole of it, but now that Wei Wuxian said it, he recalled a tentative ‘I’m your Shishu.’

Jin Ling hadn’t really thought about it until now. The whispers of ‘she treated him like her brother’ and ‘killed by his own brother’ had followed him throughout his childhood. When Wei Wuxian returned, and the truth was revealed, he became Da-jiu. 

It wasn’t as if he could change Jiujiu’s title, even if it was technically Wei Wuxian’s (but did nine days even matter if he was now thirteen years old? Jin Ling tried not to think about it too hard). What was the big deal? And what was everyone worried about? Not the stack of creepy talismans still sitting in front of them.  

Jiang Yanli, however, beamed. “A-Xian is my precious little brother, what else would he be?” 

“You’re an idiot.” Jiang Cheng nudged Wei Wuxian with an elbow. Still, in unsuspectedly swift motion, he spun out of the way, grabbing the stack of talismans. Sizhui bled on. A flash of hurt flashed across Jiujiu’s face, before a scowl replaced it just as quickly. 

The three glanced at each other, Sizhui pointedly looking at the talisman before shifting his attention back to them. With a sigh, Jin Ling pricked his finger, Jingyi following a second after, dotting their own talisman.  After last night, they could not be trusted to keep the timeline; that much was obvious. Jin Ling tried not to think about what that meant about his mother, about being forgotten by her. 

“Can we go back to this?” He waved to one of the creepy talismans. What he called Wei Wuxian was not the priority at the moment; the sooner they switched, the sooner Jin Ling’s cheeks would stop burning. 

“Those will erase our memories of you. I’ll cast a bigger one over Lotus Pier, just in case.” Wei Wuxian stuck a talisman to his chest, gesturing for Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng to do the same. Neither of them hesitated. “When you return to your time, give me one of them, and I’ll reverse it.”

“Does it have to be your blood?” Sizhui asked tentatively, his face masked by a blankness that could rival Hanguang-jun’s. But it took a moment for Sizhui’s concern to click. 

The blood wouldn’t be the same. Panic rose; they couldn’t exactly bring it up. Jiujiu would burn the world down if he knew. Even with their relationship hanging by a thread in the present, Jin Ling didn’t doubt that Jiujiu would bury Sandu if anyone threatened Wei Wuxian. 

“It won’t need any more to reverse it if that’s what you’re worried about. There’s a time limit on them anyway, even if I’m not around, wait twenty-five years and they’ll wear down on their own.” Da-jiu whispered something that Jin Ling didn’t quite catch before activating the talisman with a deadly red flash of resentment. 

Crimson resentment lashed out, flickering around the siblings’ temples. Jin Ling shivered, letting resentment so close felt so unnatural, going against everything they were as cultivators. It had taken him ages to get used to Da-jiu’s fighting style, but even then, he never let the negative energy touch them. Jiujiu certainly would lose his shit if he ever saw Wei Wuxian do what he was doing now. 

The red tendril slithered back, wrapping back up Wei Wuxian’s arm. “There. These shouldn’t break no matter what we learn.” 

Jin Ling hoped that was true. If either the Yiling Laozu or Sandu Shengshou learnt that their sister had been killed, they didn’t doubt they would move the heavens and the earth to prevent that fate. 

He needed to crush that fragile, selfish hope that somehow they could change things. 

“I can send them back; it should be fairly straightforward.” Wei Wuxian’s hoarse voice grated as if he had gone several days without talking or drinking anything that wasn’t wine. A grey colour crept up his cheeks, making his sunken eyes look even more skeletal. Damn, Jin Ling didn’t think the talisman would take so much out of Wei Wuxian.  “Bad news, it has to be done in the Burial Mounds, and we will need a great amount of spiritual energy.” 

“So?” Jiang Cheng frowned, “you have one of the strongest cores of our generation. You have a perfectly excellent sword, stop being difficult and just use it already.”

The three of them froze, eyes flickering between them. Fuck. Jin Ling didn’t think about the core issue. Even in their time, he tried not to. Xiao-shushu had been cruel to expose the secret in front of everyone present. Just like it hadn’t been Jin Ling’s place to tell Sizhui and Jingyi. Shame clung to him when he thought about his failure to keep the secret. 

Yet outside of Jiujiu, there was no one he trusted more than them. They swore to never speak of it again, and if even they decided Jin Ling wasn’t worth the effort anymore, they wouldn’t hurt Wei Wuxian in that way. 

“Jiang-zongzhu.” Sizhui’s voice bit sharply through the hall. Cold fury burned behind his amber eyes, and his hand hovered over Xiachun, the white blade waiting to be summoned. Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed, Zidian catching the light as if daring Sizhui to pull through with his threat. “That was uncalled for.” 

Jiang Yanli took a step forward, stepping in between them. “A-Cheng.” The quiet rebuke in her voice was barely noticeable, and to Sizhui, she turned, “Lan-gongzi, I thank you for your concern. A-Xian will not be forced to do anything he does not wish to.” 

“Little Lan.” Jin Ling rounded on the sound of Wei Wuxian’s cackling laughter.  “You’re funny.” 

Sizhui deflated, the anger building towards Jiang Cheng’s comment vanishing. 

“Besides Chengcheng, I need to send them back.” Wei Wuxian shook his head, gave an overtly dramatic world-weary sigh, and ignored how Jiujiu looked very much like he wanted to strangle him for the use of the nickname. “The Burial Mounds listen to me sometimes, but if I’m not using Chenqing, the things there can get mean.”

Jingyi looked bewildered, still holding Sizhui back. “Just ask Hanguang-jun.” Every pair of eyes turned to stare at him. “What? He’d do anything for you.” 

Jin Ling felt his cheeks burn with a furious blush as Jiang Yanli covered her mouth to hide the small laugh that escaped her. Jiang Cheng frowned as Wei Wuxian went wide-eyed, for the first time, looking like the Da-jiu he knew. 

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian looked completely and utterly shocked as to who Jingyi was referring to, as if there was any other Hanguang-jun he could have been talking about. “He hates me!” 

All three juniors collectively let out a groan. How Da-jiu could be so smart and yet so stupid would never fail to confuse him. Jin Ling had heard the rumours, before that Hanguang-jun’s great enemy had always been the Yiling Laozu. The stories of their rivalry had been legendary, belonging more in fiction than reality. 

Bullshit. It was impossible to spend more than a singular incense time in their presence to know that Hanguang-jun was entirely in love with Wei Wuxian. Really, they were a whole spectacle in which Jin Ling was a non-consenting victim. Utterly shameless, the pair of them.   

He shivered at the flood of memories. 

“Wei-qianbei.” Sizhui’s calm tone drew Wei Wuxian’s attention in all its intensity, and Jin Ling admired how his friend didn’t even flinch. “If you write Hanguang-jun a letter, I guarantee he will come.” 

No kidding. Jin Ling doubted that Hanguang-jun would be any less in love now than he was in the present. And if either of his friends were willing to curb the rules a bit, he would bet that Hanguang-jun would arrive in Lotus Pier in world-breaking time. 

“Just write the fucking letter.” Jiujiu crossed his arms, glaring at Wei Wuxian, “If you won’t use your spiritual energy, do something useful.”

Ouch. Jin Ling winced. Jiujiu, that was mean.