Chapter Text
About a full year had passed since the events at Guanyin Temple, and as Jiang Cheng stood in the courtyard of Lotus Pier overseeing the preparations for the latest Discussion Conference, he had the distinct thought that things couldn’t be much more different if they tried.
His home had been long repaired, at least in regards to its physical aspect, and Yunmeng was doing well at large. His disciples were well trained and quick on their feet, faster still to obey his every command, and he regarded them with a certain amount of pride. As long as he stayed within the walls of Lotus Pier, he could take comfort in the familiarity, in the gardens he himself helped plant and the boards of the dock he nailed down.
Elsewhere, on the other hand? Lan Wangji was doing well as Chief Cultivator, considering his blatant disinterest in the position, and large and small sects alike had settled into a certain level of peace. Tensions still were prone to run high at meetings like this, and inter-sect politics would never be easy, but most had stopped glancing over their shoulder at every sudden noise.
Word was that Wei Wuxian had returned to Gusu about a month prior, only to snag the Chief Cultivator and disappear again in a hasty elopement. Jiang Cheng felt a familiar pang of irritation both at his brother’s actions and the fact that he hadn’t been invited--but it wasn’t like he had the grounds to complain. He had seen Wei Wuxian twice in the past year, running into each other during night hunts, and their interactions had remained stilted.
Jiang Cheng was tired. It was so much easier to be angry than to acknowledge anything else that he felt, to Wei Wuxian or to anyone else, but there was something about Wei Wuxian’s pleased smile at seeing him that made it exhausting to keep him at arm’s length. Especially now that Jin Ling had moved full time to Carp Tower, established in his role of sect leader.
He had other things to worry about than cleaning out Jin Ling’s room, he told himself firmly, with the same logic he’d used when setting up the Lan guest quarters in the same wing that Wei Wuxian’s old room used to be. Design had never been his strong suit. It was better not to think of it.
The Jin Sect was the first to arrive, naturally, and the easiest to settle in. If Jin Ling’s greeting turned a little misty-eyed at being led to his room, well, who would dare bring it up?
Jiang Cheng took a brief moment to observe his nephew, who stood proudly at his side as they greeted the other sects. He was getting taller, broader now that he was newly seventeen. There was more of his father in him in the slant of his cheekbones, less baby fat, his jawline almost reminiscent of Jiang Cheng’s. He still had Yanli’s eyes, though. Jiang Cheng would always be grateful for that.
Gods. He must be getting old, to be so sentimental.
Jiang Cheng’s attention focused once more as a disciple announced the arrival of the Lan sect. Approaching them, standing straight and proud as ever, was the Chief Cultivator himself, his new husband bounding in at his side with a face-splitting grin. On his left came their son—and wasn’t that a thought, Wei Wuxian as a father—who was polite as ever, saluting low and respectful to both Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling.
Lan Sizhui. Jiang Cheng considered him for a moment longer. With age, he was more clearly adopted, not reaching the heights of Lan Wangji or Lan Xichen, or even that of Wei Wuxian’s original body. There was something familiar about the curve of his nose, the spark of his eyes, but Jiang Cheng didn’t linger too long on the thought.
He needed to stop ruminating on the past. He’d had seventeen years of it, now.
“Welcome to Lotus Pier,” Jiang Cheng said formally, saluting in return to their greeting.
“Thank you for hosting us,” Lan Wangji returned, his voice cold and even as ever.
At least some things would never change.
“Sizhui,” Jin Ling said, suddenly, a little too loud. “I didn’t realize that you had—that you were coming.”
Right. The kid—not a kid anymore, wasn’t he of age now?—had spent the year traveling with the Ghost General.
Lan Sizhui smiled, warm. “I returned to Gusu just in time to see my parents off for their marriage,” he explained, glancing up at them. “I’m glad. Otherwise, I don’t think they would have remembered to tell me.”
Wei Wuxian, a grown man, pouted at his son. “We already apologized, Sizhui! I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll show you all the places to get the best food here.”
Lan Sizhui’s nose wrinkled, just a little, and he gave a short shake of his head. “No, thank you.”
“Is Jingyi with you?” Jin Ling interjected, glancing at the delegation behind them.
“Oh, no.” Lan Sizhui’s smile took on a mischievous edge, and Jiang Cheng could suddenly see a hint of his father in him. “He’s teaching a class to the little ones this year.”
Lan Qiren would have a qi deviation before the month was out.
“Oh.” Jin Ling hesitated, causing both of his uncles to raise their brows. Uncertain was never a word they’d use to describe him. “Well, if you want, I can show you around later. I won’t poison you, like he would.”
“Excuse me,” Wei Wuxian protested, clutching his chest. “I would never poison my own son! He spent too long eating bland Lan food, I have to reintroduce him to flavor.”
“That would be nice,” Lan Sizhui said, as if he hadn’t spoken.
“Sizhui!”
“Anyway,” Jiang Cheng said, clearing his throat, reluctant to draw the attention back to himself. As Wei Wuxian’s head swiveled back to him, he almost lost the will to speak, but with some effort, he ground out, “Congratulations. On your marriage.”
Wei Wuxian’s answering smile was blinding, and he very obviously fought the urge to engulf his younger brother in a hug. “Thank you, Jiang Cheng! I have to say, being a married man has made me see things in a different light. Now that your older brother’s been married off, we can start looking for someone for—”
“Don’t make me regret letting you in,” Jiang Cheng warned him, the edge in his voice perhaps not as sharp as it once would have been.
“I know all of the secret entrances, anyway,” Wei Wuxian huffed loftily.
“Maybe I changed them.” He hadn’t.
Before Wei Wuxian could escalate his antics, another Jiang sect disciple trotted up to their side.
“Forgive the interruption, Sect Leader. The Nie Sect delegation has just arrived,” the disciple reported. Jiang Cheng nodded, dismissing him with a brief wave of his hand.
Jin Ling’s brows shot up. “Sect Leader Nie is coming?” he asked, surprised.
“Why wouldn’t he?” Wei Wuxian frowned.
“Oh, you’ve been traveling,” Jin Ling recalled. “He didn’t come to the last one. He hasn’t even been seen out in public, as of late. Rumor has it that he’s focused entirely on Qinghe and that while they’re doing well, they’ve gotten a little reclusive.”
“Isn’t gossiping forbidden?” Jiang Cheng snapped, with some irritation.
His unease was mirrored in his brother, as Wei Wuxian glanced up at his husband, gaze questioning.
“I expressly asked him to come,” Lan Wangji explained, quiet and prompt.
Wei Wuxian’s brows furrowed in thought, and they turned as a group to observe the approaching Nie delegation.
The man himself was as put together as ever. His robes were fashionable, if slightly muted, a dark green that draped around his slender frame. His ever present fan dangled from his hand and his hair was immaculate, long and straight and dark.
Jiang Cheng couldn’t place it, but there was something… off, about his gait. His steps were small and measured, and he was bracketed on either side by muscular Nie sect guards, so similar in appearance to each other that they had to be twins, one a man and one a woman. They couldn’t be all that much younger than Nie Huaisang himself, or the rest of them, for that matter.
Nie Huaisang came to a stop in front of them, saluting politely to them each in turn, before flicking open his fan and covering the lower half of his face. “Thank you for hosting us,” he said, voice honey-smooth. “Yunmeng is still so warm this late in the autumn, I wonder if I’ve overdressed.”
“As if you’d do anything unintentional,” Wei Wuxian hummed.
Nie Huaisang fanned his face at a leisurely pace, his small smile unfaltering. “As if I haven’t survived this long by pure dumb luck alone.”
“That’s one way to phrase it.”
“I do imagine that congratulations are in order to the happy couple,” Nie Huaisang added sweetly.
“Thank you,” Lan Wangji said, short and polite.
Jiang Cheng couldn’t place it and it was frustrating him. He hadn’t seen Nie Huaisang in a year, so he wasn’t the best judge. Before then it had been even less frequent, whatever friendship they once held long grown stale and brittle by grief and the responsibilities that came with being sect leader.
And, he imagined, the infrequent letters had stopped altogether at a certain point. He wasn’t so dull to fail to realize that, in hindsight, he had been pushed away on purpose. They weren’t close anymore, but he understood the urge to protect, to keep collateral damage to a minimum. Yes, maybe it stung somewhat to know that he hadn’t been trusted, but it wasn’t like Nie Huaisang had trusted anyone. Or like Jiang Cheng really, truly, trusted anyone himself, anymore.
Regardless. There was something.
“I trust you had safe travels, Sect Leader Nie?” Jin Ling said, somewhat awkwardly, perhaps sensing the odd tension.
“Yes, largely uneventful,” Nie Huaisang confirmed, before letting out a little sigh. “But you know me, I tend to tire easily, and I can only imagine what my hair looks like. If it’s alright, I would retire to my guest quarters now, to rest and get cleaned up.”
“You look—of course,” Jiang Cheng cut himself off, inwardly cursing himself. He gestured sharply for a disciple to come over, who was quick to comply. “Show Sect Leader Nie and his companions to their quarters for their stay.”
“Yes, Sect Leader.”
Nie Huaisang shot him a quick smile behind his fan, saluting again shallowly before brushing past them to follow his guide. Jiang Cheng watched him as he walked away, but it was Lan Sizhui who finally spoke, after a moment.
“Forgive my rudeness,” he said softly, biting his lower lip. “But doesn’t it seem like Sect Leader Nie is limping?”
Jin Ling turned to look in blatant confusion. “Perhaps. What could he have a limp from, though? It’s not like he fights.”
Jiang Cheng wondered the same thing. The wound from Guanyin Temple hadn’t been that bad, and certainly should have healed by now, weak golden core or no.
What secrets was he hiding now?
It was, somehow, of absolutely no surprise that Jiang Cheng found himself bumping into Wei Wuxian on his way to Nie Huaisang’s rooms. He hadn’t even been sure of why he was going to visit the other man, let alone what he’d say, but somehow seeing his brother creeping around the corner sparked familiar annoyance in Jiang Cheng’s gut.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, only to have his arm grabbed and to be yanked around the corner, a hand clamping over his mouth.
Jiang Cheng debated licking it, just to piss him off, when one of the twins from earlier walked briskly by and entered the room. Wei Wuxian muttered a quick spell under his breath, and the door caught just before closing, leaving a crack that they could listen through. He pressed his body up against the wall and Jiang Cheng, after a moment of debate, gave up his dignity and followed suit.
From this angle, they could just barely see into the room. Half of Nie Huaisang was visible as he perched on the bed on the far side of the room as two figures—the twins, supposedly—bustled around, laying out his belongings and generally… fussing.
“We should ask the Chief Cultivator, while we’re all in the same place,” the woman said, and judging by Nie Huaisang’s rolled eyes, it wasn’t the first time that she’d said it.
“That is completely unnecessary,” he refused, firm. He still fanned himself, the motion casual and slow.
“At least let me see your leg again,” the man tried, coming to stand in front of him, largely blocking him from view.
“You’ve already treated it, Haoran. It’ll heal, there’s no need to worry.” Nie Huaisang insisted.
“Sect Leader—”
“Haoran. Meilin. We won’t be here long, let yourselves enjoy the stay. Yunmeng is beautiful this time of year.” There was an almost wistful tone to Nie Huaisang’s voice, before he switched to teasing. “When we get back to the Unclean Realm, I’ll let you both fuss to your heart’s delight.”
“I highly doubt that you’ll hold to that,” Nie Meilin muttered in a surprising show of disrespect, but Nie Huaisang just huffed out a tired laugh.
“Go, now, let your poor sect leader rest.” A pause, and then: “Don’t make me make it an order.”
The twins saluted, promptly, though it was with a clear show of reluctance that they filed out of the room, not noticing the spell that yet again kept the door from closing all the way. Jiang Cheng scowled at their retreating figures, having half the mind to scold them. Was it not their job to keep their sect leader safe? How unobservant could you be?
But before he could move from his crouched position, Wei Wuxian tugged his sleeve again, getting his attention.
Back in the room, Nie Huaisang waited, listening to their retreating footsteps. Then, slowly, piece by piece, his muscles relaxed, his lax smile dropped into something wan, impassive. He shifted, stretching out his left leg, cautiously rolling up his trousers to just above his knee.
Wei Wuxian hissed out a near-silent breath, and Jiang Cheng agreed with the sentiment. Steady hands unbandaged what looked to be a large clawmark, dark and pulsing, which stretched from under his knee and down his calf. That would explain the walk, then.
Nie Huaisang simply looked at the wound for a time, unnaturally still, before he reached and slowly touched his finger to the side of it. He pressed, persistent, until a scabbed over part broke open, a steady trickle of blood trailing down his leg.
He tilted his head, tipping his leg to keep it from dripping to the floor. Then, with a low sigh, he reached over for a clean cloth, which he dunked into the water basin on the side of the bed. Briskly, without any wincing or whining that they might have expected from him, he cleaned up the mess he made, his touches far from gentle. Tossing the cloth to the side, he dragged out a pack of clean bandages from a bag the twins left nearby, rewrapping the injury with swift, jerky motions.
Apparently having enough of waiting, Wei Wuxian sprang to his feet and knocked loudly on the door, shoving it open with barely a second’s warning. Jiang Cheng scrambled to follow just in time to catch Nie Huaisang rise, his trousers falling back into place, his robes shifting to cover him fully.
“Nie Huaisang,” Wei Wuxian chirped, all too-bright cheer. “What on earth happened to you?”
Nie Huaisang giggled, coy, that damned fan quick to cover most of his expression. “Oh, you know me, Wei-xiong. We ran into some trouble on the way, and I’m as clumsy as ever. I simply failed to get out of the way in time.”
“It looks serious,” Jiang Chang said, gruffly, caught off guard by the wave of unease and concern that washed over him.
Nie Huaisang tilted his head, batting his eyes up at him. “My golden core isn’t that weak, I’m sure it’ll heal soon,” he whined. Then, he brightened, as if getting an idea. “You know, with the three of us here, we should order some wine. It’ll be just like Gusu all over again.”
Wei Wuxian slipped across the room, to his side, but paused when Nie Huaisang took a step backwards. “Won’t you let me take a look?”
“Really, Wei-xiong, you are too kind,” he demurred, fanning himself more quickly. “But my disciples have already taken good care of me. I’m sure you saw, I have two of my distant cousins with me. Nie Haoran is quite the accomplished doctor.”
“Did you even let him look at you?” Jiang Cheng demanded, crossing his arms. The lines were so blurred, what was the protocol here? They were friends once, weren’t they?
“Of course I did, Sect Leader Jiang.” Nie Huaisang crossed the room, his steps perfectly measured out now that they were paying attention. He moved to pull out his sleep robes, casting a glance over his shoulder at them. “I’m just so exhausted. You know how long the journey is from Qinghe to Yunmeng. I think a good night’s sleep will have me right as rain.”
That was a clear dismissal, if there ever was once. Jiang Cheng caught himself looking over at his brother in time to meet Wei Wuxian’s eyes, as if they were still boys who knew what the other was thinking without trying. The emotions bubbling in his chest were growing dark, dangerous, angry, and really, Jiang Cheng was old enough to know when it was time to take a walk.
“Fine. We’ll leave you to it,” he spat, with a touch more venom than he intended. “Wei Wuxian. Let Sect Leader Nie get some sleep.”
Wei Wuxian, surprisingly, didn’t fight him for perhaps the first time in his life. He nodded slowly, distracted, and said, “We’ll see you at tomorrow’s discussions, then, Sect Leader Nie.”
“Tomorrow,” Nie Huaisang confirmed, watching them with unreadable brown eyes until the door finally slid shut behind their backs.
Wei Wuxian fell into step with Jiang Cheng as they left that wing of the guest quarters, chewing on the silence. Wei Wuxian’s fingers tapped restlessly against the flute that rested at his waist, and Jiang Cheng wondered how it was that he could still read his mood so clearly.
Could Wei Wuxian read his?
“I need to talk to Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian finally decided, his natural exuberance somewhat dimmed. “I don’t know what they want with him, but he should know what’s going on.”
“Do you even know what’s going on?” Jiang Chang shot back, skin prickling.
“No, but I intend to.” Wei Wuxian’s honesty was as startling as everything else that had happened today. The look in his eyes was fierce. “My entire family is within these walls. I’m done with unknowns.”
Did he really view Nie Huaisang as a threat? Was Jiang Cheng a fool not to? The thing was, watching Nie Huaisang alone in his rooms… well, it felt like looking in a mirror from a few years ago.
He was probably being presumptuous—Nie Huaisang had proved time and time again that no one could guess what he was thinking or feeling at any given point in time. But Jiang Cheng remembered what it was like, back when Jin Ling was small, when there was simply nobody else. When he was alone and he just… stopped.
When he wanted it to stop.
Jiang Cheng looked at Wei Wuxian—at his brother. His alive, breathing brother.
Being angry had been so much easier.
Cornering the Nie twins was child’s play, even considering the fact that they clearly inherited genes much closer to Nie Mingjue than Nie Huaisang. Both were taller than him, their sabers strapped to their backs, and well trained to boot. The moment he approached them as they made their way back to their rooms after dinner, they snapped smartly to attention.
“Sect Leader Jiang,” Nie Meilin greeted, saluting in time with her brother. “What can we do for you?”
Straight to the point. They must have been around for Mingjue.
“Sect Leader Nie is injured,” Jiang Cheng said, observing their reactions. “Tell me how.”
Nie Haoran glanced at his sister, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. She dipped her head in respect.
“As you wish, Sect Leader Jiang.”
“Meilin,” Nie Haoran protested under his breath.
“He didn’t forbid us from speaking about it,” Nie Meilin reasoned, stubborn as stone. “As his doctor and guard, it is at our discretion to discuss incidents regarding his health.”
“I’m going to get fired. We’re going to be restationed to the outposts, again,” Nie Haoran said with distant horror, before he sighed. “Yes, Sect Leader Jiang. Would you like the full report?”
“Right away, if it pleases you,” Jiang Cheng said with a poor attempt at patience.
“As you know, Sect Leader Nie’s cultivation does not allow him to travel by sword or saber,” Nie Haoran began after a quick glance to ensure no one was eavesdropping. “We traveled by land instead, and while stopping in a small inn on the outskirts of Yunmeng, we heard word of demonic activity in a nearby village. Something about the stories didn’t sit right with our sect leader and he chose to go investigate, even though we tried to convince him not to.”
“It was an ambush, if fierce corpses could be capable of that,” Nie Meilin said with distaste. “They came out of nowhere, as if summoned, and they were stronger than they should have been. We were almost overwhelmed, when Sect Leader Nie realized that they were being strengthened and called by a gemstone that was embedded into the ground above an unmarked grave. He got it out, but the second he touched it, he got their attention.”
Jiang Cheng’s stomach dropped. When had Nie Huaisang grown so reckless?
Nie Mielin looked away, her jaw clenching in anger at her failure to protect her sect leader. Nie Haoran touched her arm, briefly, before he continued. “Thankfully, before it was too late, another cultivator who had been in the area intervened. He was incredible, really. It was like watching a blizzard blow in and wipe them all away.”
“Who was it?” Jiang asked, furrowing his brows.
“He didn’t speak. At least, not to us,” Nie Haoran answered. “After the corpses were dealt with, Sect Leader Nie waved us away, and the cultivator made sure that his leg wasn’t infected. I suppose they must have talked, but he didn’t stick around when our sect leader let us come back.”
“He had two swords, but he only wielded one,” Nie Meilin added.
That sounded… familiar, though not from first hand information. Jiang Cheng rubbed the bridge of his nose, digesting the information that they had given him. Somehow, he felt more at a loss than before.
“Thank you, Nie Haoran, Nie Meilin,” he finally said, straightening.
They nodded in response, sharing yet another glance, clear hesitation on their faces.
“Sect Leader Jiang,” Nie Meilin began, the bolder of the two. “It isn’t our place to interfere in the business of those above our station. But I do recall Sect Leader Nie… speaking fondly, of you, and of his time at the Cloud Recesses.”
Jiang Cheng stared at her. “And what do you mean by that?” he asked, sharp.
She met his gaze, level, unfaltering. Against his better judgement, Jiang Cheng felt a spark of respect for her gall.
“I mean nothing besides what I’ve said, Sect Leader.” She took a step back and saluted again. “Have a good night.”
Jiang Cheng allowed them to be dismissed, ruminating as he made the walk back to his rooms. His feet nearly found the familiar path to Wei Wuxian’s rooms, but he slowed before he fully approached the door. Low voices could be heard on the other side, the faint silhouettes of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji sitting across from each other at the table lit by dim candles.
He stopped. Then he turned and went back to his rooms.