Chapter Text
Jin Guangyao walks through the gardens, his arm looped through Xichen’s as a precaution against the season's early cold and the previous day's rain frozen on the stones. He pays the plants little attention, choosing instead to turn his face towards his own personal sun. While Xichen admires what flowers are still clinging to the late autumn branches, Jin Guangyao stares up, eyes tracing the loose phantom-braid where this morning Nie Mingjue had pulled Xichen’s hair back to weave around his headband.
Xichen is beautiful, painfully tangible against the glaring blue of the sky.
Jin Guangyao could be content to spend eternity gazing lovingly at him. And he has arranged things so that, for the most part, he can.
“Are things progressing to your satisfaction, a-Yao?”
Jin Guangyao tightens his grip on Xichen’s arm, smiles so that his dimples are fully on display and he watches as Xichen’s politely casual air of a sect leader slips away into the warmth of his lover. “They are,” Jin Guangyao replies.
There are a few last minute details to see to, but the bulk of preparations for Jin Ling’s birthday celebration are going according to plan. Which is why he has time free in his schedule to take an extended detour through the gardens with Xichen, rather than cut directly through Koi Tower on the way to mediate a new trade deal with Sect Leader Ouyang.
Delegating the preparations for the off-site event had given him the time, but not enough to retire to his rooms quite yet. But with Nie Mingjue in charge of those, Jin Guangyao is more than willing to wait until the evening.
“Da-ge is enjoying himself slaying beasts on the mountain, and Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun can handle the rest without issue. The grounds should be free of anything beyond the children's ability by tomorrow."
“I would worry more that there is enough to keep them entertained,” Xichen says, lips lifting into a laugh, “The others have a tendency to be… overprotective.”
Particularly after the arrival of the injured Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen, and their terrible but uninjured ward. Jin Guangyao had easily been able to use that incident to bolster support for the watchtowers, and he will find a way to make Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian’s increased protectiveness of all the juniors work to his favor.
“In the event they completely eliminate anything of interest on the mountain, Wei Wuxian will simply have to summon something of an appropriate challenge for the children. A-Ling was promised a supervised night hunt, not a camping trip, and I will not fail to deliver it.”
The now-familiar respect due to the chief cultivator has done much to sooth Jin Guangyao’s constant need for recognition. It has done nothing to quell the need to become the children’s favorites over Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin. This event will solidify Jin Guangyao’s status for the winter at least.
The need for everything to be perfected is slowly seeping into Jin Guangyao’s muscles, tension and agitation settling in. Despite the fact Xichen undoubtedly sees it, he does not mention it, and instead asks, “You truly are not worried for their safety?"
“Are you?” Jin Guangyao asks in return, and gets another quiet laugh from Xichen.
With Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Wanyin all planning to supervise, the children will be the safest people in any of the sects. They will be in considerably less danger than their currently-unsupervised roamings within the tower.
Not that they are in any particular danger inside the walls.
Which leaves them free to romp around playing at defeating monsters they have no fear of. Jin Guangyao hears them long before he sees them. Jin Ling’s voice carries, loud enough to cut through the ruckus of the other dozen children tagging along. “You can’t count er-shu as your uncle!”
At the mention of himself, Jin Guangyao pauses, curious as to the trajectory of the conversation. If the children are aware of his presence, they are likely to alter their behavior, so he stops Xichen while they are still hidden behind a hedge. Even if Xichen is tall enough to see over it, and does so.
“Why not?” Jingyi demands, and Xichen closes his eyes against a sigh.
“He’s basically your dad,” Jin Ling says.
“So? Nie-da-bobo is basically my dad too because he’s basically a-die’s husband, and you let me count him!” Jingyi shouts back.
“Then I should be able to count Chifeng-zun and Zewu-jun too!” Jin Ling counters. “They’re here more than er-shu is in Cloud Recesses.” Although Jin Guangyao is too short to see over the hedge, he is familiar enough with Jin Ling’s shrill mannerisms and the childish competitive streak he definitely inherited from his uncles to know the sharp way he has to be pointing at the other kids. “Mianmian, tell them.”
“They are here to visit Lianfang-zun a lot.”
The ratio of Jin Guangyao’s visits has skewed away from Qinghe due to the weather, and he has clearly favored Gusu in his tours of the other sects as Chief Cultivator. He attempts to visit both Xichen and Jingyi in Gusu as frequently as his work allows, but far more often it seems, Xichen is the one traveling to him, despite being careful not to pull Xichen away from his own sect too often, or for too long. Huaisang’s complete competency for running the Nie Sect makes the same concern for Nie Mingjue unnecessary.
“Does it really matter?” Sizhui asks, attempting to mediate. It is something he has undoubtedly picked up from Xichen rather than either of his fathers, and something Jingyi has entirely failed to.
“Yes,” comes the immediate, doubled response from both Jingyi and Jin Ling, who have inherited their Jiang uncle’s undying need to outdo each other Fortunately without the corresponding failure to earn parental approval.
Jiang Wanyin’s own children are quick to echo their elder cousins, with the first saying, “Of course it does!”
The second adds in, “If Sizhui gets to count Wen-jiujiu, then Jin Ling gets to count Chifeng-zun and Zewu-jun and Nie-er-bobo.”
The first then says, “And Jingyi should get to count Wei-bobo.”
“Then I should get to count Hanguang-jun!” Jin Ling counters, prompting Jin Guangyao to question what criteria the children were using exactly. By any measure, both Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were uncles to all of the collected children, who follow them around like particularly awestruck ducklings.
With the sole exception of Lan Sizhui, who gets to claim them as fathers. And who has understood Jin Guangyao’s lessons in a way neither Jin Ling or Jingyi have shown to understand through their actions.
“Are you certain Wei Wuxian did not switch your children?” Jin Guangyao whispers to Xichen, and earns a quiet shake of his head in return.
Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi have the luxury of being born into the main clan of their sects, and able to ignore what others say of them. Although he bears the Lan name now, Wen Yuan has no such insulation for those who remember him by that one. And like Jin Guangyao’s own parentage, too many remember. Even within his own sect where the rules forbid such prejudice, any failure on Sizhui’s part to be anything less than perfect will reflect on him not truly being one of them.
“Jingyi does listen to you, a-Yao,” Xichen whispers quietly. “He would not be half so successful in following Wuxian’s examples if he did not.” And Huaisang’s. Their grasp of social vagaries would be impressive if it weren’t put to use causing the kind of chaos that makes Jin Guangyao’s life harder.
“Truly, he is dedicated.” To not being held up as any kind of example, except perhaps for loyalty. Sizhui has so far earned that distinction within his cohort. And the grudging approval of most of the elders.
The group rounds the hedge into the courtyard, and a-Qing interrupts Jin Ling’s response with a whack of her bamboo pole to his shoulders. He jumps away as she follows it up with, “You two are acting like babies! Shitty babies!”
She is glaring at the two in question, even if her sight is limited to large shapes and blurs of color, it is enough to see the outline of them ducking away from her pole. She’s not a cultivator, and won’t ever form a core, but her strikes still land with enough force to make Jin Ling and Jingyi stop their argument to face her. “You have too many aunties and uncles and now have to argue over useless shit! Why does it fucking matter?!”
Jin Guangyao will have to have a word with Xiao Xingchen about a-Qing’s behavior, again. Jingyi doesn’t need any more resources to cause trouble, or further his determination to break rules.
A-Qing has taken quite a toll on their vocabulary.
“She’s right, you know,” Jingyi says, tone entirely too smug for him to have decided that. When he crosses his arms and turns to smirk at Jin Ling, Jin Guangyao’s hunch that the argument is not over is confirmed. “I have more uncles and more parents than you.”
Jin Ling’s face turns bright red and he lunges forward, but before he can throw himself at Jingyi, Xichen clears his throat.
As a group, the children stop in their tracks, a sudden wave of stillness passing over them as they realize Jin Guangyao and Xichen are standing in the garden. “Zewu-jun, Lianfang-zun,” they chirp in a well-practiced chorus, complete with salutes.
“Zewu-jun?” Xichen questions, eyebrows arched and lips pulled into a teasing smile as he turns to Jin Ling, “I thought I would warrant at least a Lan-bobo?”
Jin Ling’s face once again turns red, this time in embarrassment rather than from his quick temper. Jingyi, well aware of when he has been caught breaking a rule, ducks his head. The other children snort in almost unison, including Sizhui, even if he is polite enough to cover it with his sleeve and then shoot them an apologetic look for having done so.
“Lan-bobo,” Jin Ling mumbles, head bowed and eyes stuck on the ground. Jingyi elbows him, and Jin Ling’s head snaps up to Jin Guangyao, eyes wide and hopeful as he hastily adds, “Er-shu!”
Jin Ling then returns the elbow to Jingyi’s side, and both of them turn to Jin Guangyao, equally expectant and pleading for Jin Guangyao to save them from trouble. He normally does so, stepping into smooth over disagreements and arguments, to lessen their punishments with pleasant words. It is one of the ways Jin Guangyao has maneuvered himself into their favorite uncle spot.
But Xichen has long since accepted Jingyi’s antics, and as much as the boy respects his father, he doesn’t worship him the way he does his hero Hanguang-jun. Jingyi will survive a gentle chiding from his father the way he never would disappointing Lan Wangji. Or Wei Wuxian. There is no need for Jin Guangyao to intervene.
So he matches his smile to Xichen’s—disapproving, but still fond.
“Sizhui and a-Qing are right,” Xichen says, glancing out over the rest of the group.
Of the assorted clan heirs, Ouyang Zizhen looks close to tears over some romantic narrative the imaginative child has likely created in his head. The Jiang twins shift nervously, and Mini-Mianmian is chewing on her lower lip. This is a lesson for them as well.
Except for a-Qing, who is standing with a bored expression and blowing the hair from her face with a puff of air. The only one she listens to is Xiao Xingchen, and occasionally Song Zichen. Talking to a wall is more likely to show change.
When Xichen’s attention lands back on Jingyi, he asks, “What is the rule about fighting with family?”
“That it doesn’t matter who wins,” Jingyi answers, quickly, a smile at being able to produce the correct answer. And then he cringes, deflating as he more slowly adds, “...So I shouldn’t do it.”
Xichen shakes his head gently in agreement, “No.” His smile slips a bit as he says, somewhat more sternly, “Write out the rest of the rules you have broken before you depart on the night hunt tomorrow.”
Jingyi opens his mouth to protest, but catches himself and nods. Beside him, Jin Ling gives him a sympathetic smile, but Before Jin Ling can leave with the impression he has gotten out of this without similar censoring, Xichen turns to him and adds, “Please think about what kind of example you are setting for your juniors, Jin-gongzi.”
Jin Ling’s face turns truly red at that. Even as soft as Xichen’s reprimands are, they are still more than what either of his parents customarily provide. Jiang Yanli is as indulgent with her son as she is her brothers, and Zixuan has nothing negative to say about either of them. Jingyi’s friendly debates and challenges are good for him, an equal who isn’t cowed by sect seniority.
“Ah, shixiong,” Mini-Mianmian says, startling and tugging on his sleeve, “we’re going to be late.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” Xichen says, and gives them permission to leave. Jin Ling leads the group, breaking into a run, and Jingyi is only shortly behind him. Xichen opens his mouth to call out after him, but it cut off by Jingyi loudly declaring—
“Sizhui is going to kick Jin Chan’s ass!”
Xichen closes his eyes and tilts his face up to the sun.
Jin Guangyao allows himself a heavy sigh and slips his arm back around Xichen’s. “Perhaps I should speak to Xiao Xingchen again.”
Xichen gives a thoughtful hum. “I suspect that will be a longer conversation that you planned for.”
“It will be,” Jin Guangyao replies, words slow as he thinks out the rest of his thoughts. There are several people he must speak to this afternoon, plenty to occupy him between diversions. But not so few that he can spend time flying to and from the mountain, or spend any significant time there.
They leave the garden, passing through a secluded walkway, sheltered from the worst of the wind and others’ eyes. It’s as private a space as Jin Guangyao will find without returning to their rooms.
He turns, catching the ends of Xichen’s ribbon in his free hand as a stay gust blows it into his face. His knuckles are already red from the cold, and despite the warming talismans and layers, a trip on the sword will only make the faint ache setting in his bones worse. “If er-ge wants to be helpful, he can see how da-ge is faring.”
“If you’re certain you will not need me here…”
Jin Guangyao has complete faith in Nie Mingjue’s ability, and if he were truly concerned, could easily send a messenger talisman. “There is a message I would like er-ge to deliver, if he is amenable,” Jin Guangyao says, and raises the ribbon so that it brushes his lips.
“Ah, I see,” is Xichen’s reply. He turns to face Jin Guangyao, reaching up to wrap his hand around Jin Guangyao’s, and the ribbon. "Then perhaps a-Yao should give me the message he wishes me to convey.” His interest doesn’t fade, but he does step back to arm’s length, saying, “Unless a-Yao must retrieve it from his room?”
“That is not necessary,” Jin Guangyao says. While he appreciates Xichen’s consideration, he cannot afford the distraction, or the delay, returning to his rooms would provide. “I have it with me.”
Jin Guangyao would have preferred the privacy of their rooms, and the ability to properly impress upon Xichen his message, but he is clever enough to think of an alternative. Blushing slightly at how foolish he feels, Jin Guangyao takes Xichen’s long-boned hand in both of his and flips it over, sliding back the sleeve to expose the tender skin of his wrist. Which he kisses.
He does it as reverently as possible, hoping his affection is clear. He is rewarded with a soft gasp as he bites down, hard enough to leave a mark, and when he glances up through his lashes, Xichen’s gaze is locked onto him, molten and heady.
Jin Guangyao smiles and, after a moment, pulls back, the indents of his teeth leaving a beetle shaped bruise.
“I trust er-ge will ensure da-ge sees this message,” he says with a smile he knows must take everything in Xichen’s power to resist kissing.
-
“Liangfang-zun,” Xiao Xingchen greets with an affably polite smile closer to Xichen’s than the one Jin Guangyao wears. “What can I help you with?”
Jin Guangyao takes a breath before he speaks, bracing himself to delicately retread their previous conversations and Xiao Xingchen’s failure to create meaningful results. The pause is enough for Xiao Xingchen to guess at the topic himself, and he says, “If it is a-Qing again, perhaps you should come in to speak?”
Without waiting for an answer, he turns, easily walking the clear path from the door to the small table in the center of the room. When he reaches it, he guides himself down by touch and finds the tea set out the same way. Already at the table, Song Zichen gives a stiff greeting, hands shaking as they lift from the wood. Jin Guangyao returns it and takes his seat, waiting patiently as Xiao Xingchen pours two cups of tea, measuring them with a finger hooked over the rim. The first he only fills halfway and places in front of Song Zichen, the second he fills completely and leaves in front of himself.
After a moment, he pauses with the lidless pot held aloft. “Ah, I apologize. Do you wish to pour your own?”
Jin Guangyao dips his head and smiles even though Xiao Xingchen can’t see it. “I do not mind. Please, go ahead.”
When Xiao Xingchen is finished pouring, he returns the pot to the same spot, just far enough into the middle of the table that he will not accidentally hit it.
The tea is slightly better than lukewarm, enough to be pleasant to drink without burning either Xiao Xingchen’s fingers when he pours, or Song Zichen’s when the tremors and stiffness in his hands cause him to spill.
“So, you came here because of a-Qing,” Xiao Xingchen begins once most of the tea is finished. “What is the problem this time?”
“Ah, I am afraid it is the same problem as last time,” Jin Guangyao says, smiling apologetically to hide the irritation that the matter was not settled the first few times he brought it to Xiao Xingchen’s attention.
Teaching Jin Ling and Jingyi proper etiquette is hard enough without a-Qing’s uncivil influence. They are fully capable of thwarting his efforts on their own, and her presence has only emboldened them. Especially with the more colorful language they have learned from her.
Xiao Xingchen’s lips curve into a smile around his cup, and he uses a sip to cover his laugh before he sets it back down. “I’ve spoken with her, but the lessons don’t seem to stick. She’s too spirited. You are free to try yourself.”
Song Zichen turns to his cultivation partner, giving him an entirely exasperated and judgemental stare, that he entirely misses due to being blind. Jin Guangyao on the other hand can read it easily. Xiao Xingchen is the only one she listens to, and he could influence her if he wanted to.
Jin Guangyao suspects Xiao Xingchen secretly finds his frustration amusing. He keeps his eyes humbly on his hands. “I wouldn’t dare to overstep in reprimanding your disciple. Perhaps, if it would be easier, she could join the lectures at Cloud Recesses while you two convalesce here. Lan-xiansheng is well known for his ability to reform any pupil.”
Although, like previous grand-disciples of Baoshan Sanren, a-Qing is likely to cause Lan Qiren great stress.
“That will not be necessary,” Xiao Xingchen counters immediately, “Our plans were to head to Baixue Temple before this, and that has not changed. While we appreciate your hospitality and what Wei-gongzi and Jin-daifu have done to help, it is not our wish to be involved with the sects more than we must. We will be leaving as soon as Song Lan is well enough to travel.”
That will not be until winter passes at the current rate. Song Zichen’s dislike of being touched has limited his treatments, and the doctors from truly assessing the extent of the damage to his body and meridians, or the prospects for his recovery. When he had initially arrived unconscious, the healers had been able to stabilize his qi while Wei Wuxian removed the resentful energy, but now the only thing he tolerates is the exercises he can do alone. And at Wei Wuxian’s prodding, Lan Wangji’s qin.
Jin Guangyao has yet to see Song Zichen walk more than the distance from the table to the bed, and even then, only with Xiao Xingchen’s assistance. Song Zichen walking, riding a horse, or even tolerating the jostling of a carriage is still a ways off, and the winter air is not likely to help.
Which means a-Qing will be influencing the others until then. She shares her masters’ dislike for sect politics, but instead of secluding herself in her room and out of the way gardens, she runs about the tower and reflects a disdain for any authority that tries to corral her.
Xiao Xingchen rubs a hand over his eyes where the red welts of the ghosts’ claws are still healing their way into faint scars. Song Zichen reaches out and places his hand on Xiao Xingchen’s other where it rests on the table. Once the pain passes and Xiao Xingchen’s grimace fades back into a delicate smile, he covers Song Zichen’s hand and turns back to Jin Guangyao.
“The Lan Sect’s songs are very helpful with aiding the body and mind in its recovery from resentful energy,” Jin Guangyao comments, “I would be glad to play for you, or to speak to Zewu-jun on your behalf so that it may continue once Hanguang-jun departs.”
Xiao Xingchen opens his mouth to refuse, but a moment of silence passes and then Song Zichen gives a firm nod. He doesn’t speak, his silence another aspect of his injury. It is Xiao Xingchen who answers for them both. “Lianfang-zun’s reputation as a host is indeed well-earned. Thank you.”
-
When Jin Guangyao enters the room to speak with his brother and Jiang Yanli, Zixuan is floating on Suihua near the ceiling, adjusting yet another piece of decor.
“It’s fine, a-Xuan,” Jiang Yanli calls from her seat, which has become a veritable throne of comfort thanks to her brothers’ and husband’s attempts to see to her every need. She sets a bowl of fruit aside, covering a smile behind her other hand. “Please come down. It wasn’t crooked enough to bother with.”
“A-Li,” Zixuan protests, determinedly continuing to adjust the hanging, which is already perfectly level.
Jin Guangyao clears his throat and Zixuan looks up and over, body turning and sword curving around in an arc to help him keep his balance as he spins fast enough to look startled as having been caught rearranging things. “It looks fine,” Jin Guangyao says, and extends a hand towards the table to indicate his intended conversation will be easier if Zixuan is on the ground.
Although, like most things having to do with running the sect, the person Jin Guangyao truly has to convince is Jiang Yanli. Zixuan is mostly content to let them handle the intricacy and vagaries of sect politics in favor of devoting his attention to his wife and child. Soon to be children.
Which is exactly why Jin Guangyao is certain Zixuan will agree to whatever decision Jiang Yanli makes.
He hurries to Jiang Yanli’s side, helping her stand and sit, hovering around her until she is fully settled at the table. With the baby due in another month, his concern is perhaps warranted.
“I am fine, a-Xuan,” Jiang Yanli says, but he still busies around her. She eventually gives up and lets him fret, turning to Jin Guangyao with a knowing smile as he does so.
The moment when Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin had realized Zixuan had their approval had been amusing to witness. Jiang Yanli’s smile had been much the same then.
Jin Guangyao though doesn’t wilt under her stare. He keeps his smile, and says, “I would like to request permission to give a-Ling a dog for his birthday.”
Zixuan’s head snaps up again. “Why?” he sputters out.
To secure his position as the favorite uncle above Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian, and Mo Xuanyu for all that he had made no attempt to keep up with Jin Guangyao’s maneuvering. He has chosen instead to follow Huaisang’s approach of allowing others to fight for attention. “A well-trained spiritual dog will help to keep him safe, both inside Lanling and on night hunts. Bonding with one now will ensure he is used to working with his dog when the time comes for him to begin training in earnest.”
“A-Yao,” Jiang Yanli says, “I thought we agreed not to give a-Ling a puppy.”
“Zixuan-ge and Jiang Wanyin made that agreement with Wei Wuxian,” Jin Guangyao says, carefully recalling the specifics of the conversation. “I was not included in the conversation at the time, merely present for it. As such, I am not bound by any promises and could give a-Ling a dog without risking the peace between your husband and brothers.”
It is a convincing argument, and Jin Guangyao can see Jiang Yanli considering it, but she says to him softly, “But you know how a-Xian feels about dogs.”
“A-Ling’s dog will be well-behaved and never in the same room as Wei Wuxian,” Jin Guangyao answers easily. “I can present the dog to him after Wei Wuxian has departed Koi Tower. There will be no need to worry about Wei Wuxian being able to participate in the celebrations with Jin Ling this week.”
Jin Guangyao can see Jiang Yanli softening, ready to be convinced, so he adds, “Jiang Wanyin would enjoy it as well.”
There was no missing the way Jiang Wanyin looked over to the sect’s dogs whenever they passed, and often broke from his too stiff Sect Leader demeanor to bend down and pet them when given the opportunity and lack of an audience to impress.
Beside Jiang Yanli, Zixuan is already convinced, and he turns his own pleading puppy dog eyes on her. “A-Li,” he says, with all the delicaness Jin Guangyao has taught him to handle sect matters with, “It is your didi who will be affected, but A-Ling has been asking for one.”
She reaches out and cups his cheek with her hand, smiling benevolently at him. “Of course you and a-Yao can get him a dog. Just include a-Cheng in it too.” She then turns to Jin Guangyao. “Please find some way to make this up to a-Xian. I don’t want him to feel put out.”
Sharing the gift with the others will make claiming the spot of Jin Ling’s favorite uncle slightly harder, but Jiang Yanli’s determination to make everyone feel included and valued is one of the reasons their family gets along as well as it does. And why Jin Ling has not once fallen for Jin Chan’s attempts to convince him that a new sibling means his parents will have to choose which one to love. Both of Jin Ling’s parents have enough love for everyone, and he knows it.
Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin would both be quick to correct anyone who thought otherwise of Jiang Yanli.
Zixuan has done his best to avoid repeating his father’s mistakes with his own children, and to make amends to his father’s. It just doesn’t remove Jin Guangshan from any of their memories. Especially Jin Guangyao’s.
“A-Yao,” Jiang Yanli says, reaching out to place her hand over his, eyes turning kind and sad, “You don’t have to be the favorite to be adored by a-Ling.”
Jin Guangyao bows his head, breaking eye contact, and frames a smile. “I know, dasao.”
-
“Ah, I don’t know, san-ge, I really just don’t know,” Huaisang says with a sigh, swanning over to the stone bench where he reclines, limbs elegantly splayed in complete helplessness. “There’s just too much work to be done in Qinghe to spare either da-ge or myself. It seems I shall have to wait until spring for the geese to return.”
“And if you didn’t have to?” Jin Guangyao asks, pulling an iridescent feather from his sleeve.
It catches Huaisang’s attention immediately. He sits, eyes locked onto the feather. He’s too interested to bother with pretending otherwise.
Jin Guangyao smiles, feigning apology even though he knows this is far superior to the offer of handling the paperwork this conversation usually takes. “Although, I’m afraid this one isn’t a goose.”
The fan snaps shut. “Da-ge can stay as long as he wants, if you tell me where this bird is.”
Easily able to provide that information, Jin Guangyao extends his hand so that Huaisang can take the feather.
-
In what Jin Guangyao can only assume is the aftermath of an eventful training session, Jingyi and Sizhui walk down the hall. Well, Sizhui walks; he’s the perfect image and demeanor for a Lan disciple. Jingyi struts, cocksure and chin lifted in proud victory. The smile he wears is wide, and Jin Guangyao half-expects to hear him crow.
The light fading as the afternoon approaches evening and the shadows in the hall hide the discoloration on Jingyi’s robes, but once they draw near, the black smudges are unmistakable. Soot.
Jin Guangyao breathes in and tenses, fingers curling as he looks them both over. Sizhui’s robes are immaculate, save for a dusting of light sand on his elbow. Jingyi’s are not. They are covered in blackened char, although thankfully unburnt themselves. The protection talismans woven into the fabric would have kept him from catching fire, but something else clearly had. The ends of his hair, already shorter than Sizhui’s, are curled from the heat and his headband sits crooked.
Breathing out, Jin Guangyao reaches out, catching the edge of his sleeve in his hand to wipe a smudge off Jingyi’s cheek. Once the mark is cleared away, he runs his fingers over Jingyi’s ribbon, straightening it with a gentle, “A gentleman dresses properly, your headband must not be slanted.”
Jingyi and Sizhui both look at him, a slight furrow. “Although there are similar ones, I don’t recognize that specific rule, san-bo.”
Smiling around a soft ache in his chest, Jin Guangyao smooths back the ends of Jingyi’s hair. “It is something my mother said.”
“Do I have to add it to the list for a-die?” Jingyi asks. From the looks of things, it is not likely to make too much of a difference in how long Jingyi spends writing out rules tonight.
Jin Guangyao straightens out the collar on Jingyi’s robes. “Only so you don’t forget it.”
Jingyi’s whining snaps into serious attention. “I won’t forget that one, diedie.”
“Good.” Satisfied that Jingyi is not going to spontaneously combust, Jin Guangyao steps back and smooths down the front of his own robes. “You should hurry and change if you do not want to be late to dinner.”
They salute him and hurry down the hall, pushing the limit to how fast a walk can go. Shaking his head, Jin Guangyao continues on his way, catching the new direction of their conversation.
“I’m not going to have any free time tonight.”
“Probably, but I can help you so we can get them done before bed.”
Jingyi groans, likely at the prospect of all the work he has to do. But it’s shoved aside quickly enough for him to comment back, “At least I got to dump Jin Ling into the Lotus Pond.”
Thanks to Wei Wuxian’s talismans, the waters in the Lotus Ponds are kept from freezing over, and warm enough they won’t cause illness from any indavised swimming. And Jin Ling’s core is developed enough to keep him from catching sick in the time it takes to run to his rooms to change.
It is also likely Wei Wuxian’s talismans that caused the fire for Jingyi.
Two incidents in one afternoon is slightly too many for Jin Guangyao’s taste. Leaving the conversion with the kennel master for tomorrow, he turns to track down Mo Xuanyu.
-
On his way to find Mo Xuanyu, Jin Guangyao encounters Jin Ling first, the child running into him and falling off balance from the impact. Jin Guangyao reaches out and steadies him with a hand on his shoulder. “Careful, a-Ling.”
“Thank you, shushu.” Jin Ling lands back on the flats of his feet, but his hair continues to sway, the ends curling from where they had gotten wet and a decaying lotus stem stuck in them. His robes are faring far worse, mud staining the hem up to his knee, even if a talisman has clearly dried them.
Jin Guangyao plucks the dead lotus from Jin Jing’s hair and lets it fall to the ground. “You should get changed quickly. Your friends will be waiting for you.”
“Yes, shushu.” Jin Ling bows quickly and hurries down the hall.
Jin Guangyao continues on, hitting the dining hall as the younger disciples file in. Several of them are in similar states of soot and soaked as Jingyi and Jin Ling, and all of them equally a chitter over it. The edge of Qin Su’s sleeve as she reaches out to keep one of the Jiang twins from running into someone else is singed.
No one was injured. All of the children had fun. Qin Su has always been responsible, and Mo Xuanyu has become so since becoming an adult and no longer a flighty youth. Even if Huaisang’s influence is still very much present.
Settling his nerves with a deep breath, Jin Guangyao smooths out his robes and exits before anyone notices he entered. There is work to do in his office.
-
“Da-ge is enjoying himself quite thoroughly,” Xichen says as he returns from visiting the mountain, cheeks slightly pink from the wind, fingers cool where they reach out and curl around the back of Jin Guangyao’s elbows. “A-Yao truly knows how to give the best gifts.”
Jin Guangyao rises onto his toes to greet Xichen with a proper kiss, and then pulls back to properly stare. There are several purplish bruises along the edge of Xichen’s collar, hidden just enough by the fabric and shadow to not be immediately obvious. But their continued presence alone is proof their placement is deliberate.
Alone, they are a bolder response than Jin Guangyao had anticipated. But he lets his eyes pass over them without comment, and glances up to Xichen’s hair where his headband has been woven into a less subtle braid than he usually allows.
Nie Mingjue’s choice to escalate is entirely in line with his tendency to commit fully to his course of action. And a challenge to see what Jin Guangyao will do in return.
He lets his reply for Nie Mingjue sit along with the other correspondence on his desk. Even if the merchant’s request does need a response before the morning.
The more pressing matter is the man before him, eyes bright with reflected candlelight and the fire burning behind them. Jin Guangyao stares up through his lashes, smiling coyly. “I hope er-ge enjoyed himself as well.”
“I did.” Xichen pauses, just long enough to step back and release Jin Guangyao’s elbows. He glances down at the papers scattered across the desk. They are neat, organized-- Jin Guangyao doesn’t do anything less-- but still clearly in use. “And… has a-Yao finished his work for the day?”
With how long Xichen was gone, and that he is alone now, Jin Guangyao extends his estimate of when Nie Mingjue will return. There will be plenty of time to complete the pressing matters once Xichen falls asleep.
Bending down to clean off the brush and set it aside, Jin Guangyao says, “They can wait.”
-
Long after night falls and some time after Xichen falls asleep, Jin Guangyao is forced to look up from his work to stretch his back. He is careful not to disturb Xichen, the weight of him settled at Jin Guangyao’s back, an arm looped around his waist. Although, so long as Jin Guangyao remains pressed against him, Xichen is not likely to wake.
That is proven when a clatter from the hall doesn’t cause so much as a skip in the steady purr of Xichen’s snores.
Jin Guangyao turns, leaning down to stretch his side and kiss the winter-faint tan line on Xichen’s forehead.
It is late. Too late. Jin Guangyao is finished with his work and Nie Mingjue has yet to return. Sighing, Jin Guangyao straightens, breathing through the wave of pain as his leg reminds him it too is cramping the joint locked up, and pulls a messenger talisman from the stack on the desk laid across his lap. A few quick strokes and Jin Guangyao writes his note, sending it off with a burst of spiritual energy.
He blinks away the floating lights as the butterfly drifts lazily towards the door.
Before it can pass through to its destination, Nie Mingjue pushes his way into the room surrounded by the damp mountain air and the pine needles clinging to his robes. Like Xichen there is a fire in his eyes, exhilarated from the events of the day, an entire afternoon and evening spent slaying beasts energizing him rather than exhausting him.
The butterfly lands on Nie Mingjue’s hand where it holds open the door, and a moment later his attention snaps to Jin Guangyao.
“I hope da-ge enjoyed his day,” Jin Guangyao says, pleasant and casual. He waits for Nie Mingjue to bring up the contents of the message itself as he cleans off his brush.
Nie Mingjue snorts in lieu of a laugh, and steps properly into the room. “You’re a snake,” he says fondly, removing Baxia’s strap from around his shoulders and depositing her on the stand.
Jin Guangyao wipes down the brush and sets it to dry as Nie Mingjue stalks over, reaching the bed as he says, “We cannot all use brute force to solve our problems.”
Nie Mingjue stops at the edge of the bed, the desk a barrier between them preventing Nie Mingjue from stepping into Jin Guangyao’s space and kissing him as he suspects Nie Mingjue’s first instinct was to do. Instead, he towers over, and Jin Guangyao has to contain the wince craning his neck to look up causes.
“A-Yao.”
Nie Mingjue efficiently picks up the desk and sets it aside. While he does so, Jin Guangyao uncrosses his legs so they hang over the edge of the bed, using the fact Nie Mingjue’s back is turned to hide the movement, and the moment he has to pause as the pain overwhelms his senses.
By the time Nie Mingjue turns back, Jin Guangyao has mastered his expression. He remains unaware of Jin Guangyao’s deliberately concealed aches as he returns to settle between Jin Guangyao’s knees. Clearly intent on following through with promises in the message he sent with Xichen, Nie Mingjue rests his hands on the outside of Jin Guangyao’s arms, and leans in.
“Da-ge,” Jin Guangyao greets, pressing a hand against Nie Mingjue’s chest, allowing him to lean forward far enough for a kiss, but nothing more. The robes are dry, but there’s a layer of dirt on them, among other things Nie Mingjue picked up on his afternoon slaying beasts.
Nie Mingjue makes a frustrated noise in his throat, and lets his hands drop to Jin Guangyao’s waist. “A-Yao.”
“You may thank me later, da-ge,” Jin Guangyao says with a patronizing smile. Wrinkling his nose, he adds, “First, you need a bath.”
He presses, just slightly on Nie Mingjue’s chest, and the man backs up just enough to follow Jin Guangyao’s glance to where a tub is waiting, steam rising off water kept warm by heating talismans.
Nie Mingjue cocks an eyebrow. “Are you planning to join me?”
Jin Guangyao rolls his shoulder, easing some of the ache in his neck, but like the stretching earlier and the cup of medine cooling on the table, it is not enough to fully relieve the pain. Soaking in the warm water had helped after he retired in the evening, and a second bath would be likely to help. But with the soft bar of Xichen’s arm resting on his lap, leaving the bed to join Nie Mingjue in the tub again is not part of Jin Guangyao’s plans.
Fortunately, Jin Guangyao has other options with Nie Mingjue’s broad hands. Hands that are resting warm on Jin Guangyao’s thighs, already reaching to show Jin Guangyao how much Nie Mingjue enjoyed his afternoon on the mountain.
If Jin Guangyao requests a massage, Nie Mingjue will be entirely happy to provide one, inevitably getting distracted. Especially once Xichen wakes up and decides to kiss every bit of exposed skin he sees on either of them. A pleasant prospect, but unproductive.
Xichen is sleeping. Truly resting now that he has one of them in his arms, rather than the light dozing that marks his time alone in Gusu. Even if Xichen would be delighted to be woken, Jin Guangyao will not allow his sleep to be disturbed this early in his stay.
Drumming his fingers over Nie Mingjue’s chest, Jin Guangyao smiles up at him, dimples on display. “Unfortunately, you shall have to do that alone.”
Nie Mingjue huffs out a laugh, and brushes his lips over Jin Guangyao’s. He presses closer, squeezes Jin Guangyao’s legs, digs his fingers into the knotted muscle. The rush of the day is still carrying him forward, and Jin Guangyao is inclined to continue giving Nie Mingjue a chance to enjoy himself.
“This shouldn’t be too hard for you to figure out,” Nie Mingjue mutters.
It’s not.
Mentally reorganizing his plans for the night, Jin Guangyao reaches a hand around Nie Mingjue’s neck and pulls him in for a proper kiss. He lets it remain solely that long enough to make Nie Mingjue break it off with a pleadingly breathless, “A-Yao.”
Smiling and glancing up at Nie Mingjue beneath his lashes, Jin Guangyao slips a hand between them.
-
Kneeling on the floor, the bulk of Nie Mingjue’s weight is resting either on the floor, or the mattress itself, but his head in Jin Guangyao’s lap. His cheek is on Jin Guangyao’s thigh, eyes closed and smiling faintly, the curve of his lips pressing a faint dimple at the edge of his mustache. Despite the ache in his back, his shoulders, his legs and hips, Jin Guangyao bends double to kiss it. It barely earns him a reaction, Nie Mingjue too relaxed to do more than let out a deep and content exhale.
Behind him, Xichen’s even breaths and gentle snoring continue on uninterrupted, and his arm remains looped around Jin Guangyao’s waist, unmoved.
Straightening up enough to relieve some of the pressure on his spine, Jin Guangyao turns his attention to Nie Mingjue’s hair. He pulls a curl of lichen from it, picking out a few stray bits of leaf and twig as he removes the hair piece and begins the process of unpinning Nie Mingjue’s braids.
By the time he is done, Jin Guangyao can feel sleep pulling on him, peace settling as heavy and comfortable as the weight of the two men around him.
“Da-ge,” he says gently, rousing Nie Mingjue from his light doze with a hand sweeping over his forehead. Nie Mingjue is still in his robes, now even more grime covered, and Jin Guangyao will not allow that in his bed. “You need to clean up and wash your hair.”
Nie Mingjue hums against Jin Guangyao’s leg, warm breath ghosting over bare skin mottled with love bites before he kisses it. Then, with a sigh like he has been woken too early in the morning, he pushes himself up so he is standing on his knees and glances over Jin Guangyao’s shoulder to where Xichen is still sound asleep.
Laughing, Nie Mingjue presses a slow kiss to Jin Guangyao’s lips.
Jin Guangyao breaks the kiss with a gentle shove, hurrying Nie Mingjue towards the tub and the waiting stack of clean robes. Jin Guangyao watches for a moment, shrugging out of what remains of his robes, and then turns back to Xichen, twisting around to stretch out beside him. It breaks him out of Xichen’s grip, and Jin Guangyao is close enough to the edge that if he rolls onto his back he will fall off.
But the pressure immediately lessens on Jin Guangyao’s back as he settles in the well created by Xichen’s elegant form. Relieved of the worst of the pain, he drifts quickly. He floats on the surface of consciousness, turning into seafoam until Nie Mingjue’s warm hands land like sunlight on his skin, rolling over him and anchoring him back into his body.
The pain of Nie Mingjue pressing on the knots is sharp. But he follows each spot with a kiss, and a scrape of his teeth. The marks will fade quickly though, with the oil and qi Nie Mingjue applies as he rubs, working out tense muscles and bruises alike.
Like that, the rest of Jin Guangyao’s pain subsides, dissolving under Nie Mingjue’s attention, and Jin Guangyao slips easily back into the twilight state of half-sleep.
He’s pulled from it once again by Nie Mingjue resting a hand on his back. “You need to put on sleeping robes,” he says, and then adds, “and socks.”
Jin Guangyao breathes in while taking stock of his body, the warmth from Xichen beneath him and Nie Mingjue’s hands on his back. Even with the talismans heating the room, there is a chill in the air. The prospect of waking up with all the pain renewed is enough to force Jin Guangyao to sit up and accept his clothes.
This time the movement is enough to rouse Xichen, who stirs just enough to reach around for them. Jin Guangyao takes his hand. “I need you to move over, please, er-ge.”
It earns him a groggy, “A-Yao,” which is more a pleased hum of the contour of his name rather than the words themselves. And then, with another content sigh, he falls firmly back into deep sleep.
Nie Mingjue presses a laugh alongside a kiss to Jin Guangyao’s temple and whispers, “I’ll move him.” He does so, pulling back the covers and sliding his arms underneath Xichen’s limp form to reposition him in the center of the bed. And then he plops down onto the other side himself, throwing Xichen’s arm over his chest along with the covers.
Now, with plenty of room, Jin Guangyao lies down again, head resting on Xichen’s chest. He extends the arm holding Xichen’s hand across his body, letting it rest with the knuckles brushing Nie Mingjue’s side. With the other, he pulls one of his many pillows closer and tucks it into place and Nie Mingjue snuffs out the lights.
Xichen’s breath rumbles steadily beneath Jin Guangyao’s head, and his thoughts resume their idle workings, pondering the contents of the letters he has yet to answer. The puppy he selected for Jin Ling, and negotiating with Wei Wuxian to mitigate problems. He will have to owe Luo Qingyang a favor for using her husband’s contacts to properly furnish Jin Ling’s celebrations, as there is not an existing one Jin Guangyao is willing to let this repay. Especially since had to leverage one for Huaisang’s bird.
“Go to sleep, a-Yao,” Nie Mingjue says, as Jin Guangyao decides what to do with Sect Leader Yao’s newest complaint. “You can rule the world in the morning,” Nie Mingjue adds, his hand coming up to cover Jin Guangyao’s in the dark. “I’m sure whatever it is can wait.”
It can.