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It’s not that he doesn’t trust them. (Except that’s absolutely it.)
Jin Ling can hear the Jin disciples behind him (who had followed up the mountain, because of course they had. They couldn’t just leave well enough alone and let him do his First Solo Night Hunt on his own .) whispering about how rude and arrogant he is, for arguing with the virtuous Hanguang-jun.
It’s a real shame for them that Jin Ling doesn’t give a rat’s ass what they think. He can’t afford to.
“What happens to Mo Xuanyu is none of your business,” Jin Ling attests. That’s his uncle. Sure, he had never really acknowledged the man as such to his face, in no small part because Mo Xuanyu had always swung between skittish and manic even before the constant paranoia set in and he would literally refuse to be in the same room as another person for any extended period of time. But that’s his family.
And he looks like he needs more help than ever.
Hearing him speak has been strange. This morning, when he was talking about Jin Ling’s… parental state. Sure, Mo Xuanyu has always been crazier than a weasel in a sack of snakes, and viciousness comes part and parcel with a Jin bloodline, but he’d never gone after Jin Ling. Ever. For any reason, much less that one.
And he walked differently, and his voice was deeper (the man is 28 years old, his voice isn’t supposed to drop any more), and somehow his cultivation has grown unreasonably stronger given how long he’s been away from Koi Tower. Jin Ling had questioned if that was even the same person, if his demonic cultivation (which this morning had been the only possible explanation for his dramatic leap in ability, and now has only been proven) had invited some ghost into him.
But Zidian gave no results. She sparks on his hand, and he can tell that she’s just as mad as he is that Mo Xuanyu didn’t spit out any possessing spirit even after two strikes. But if there’s no invader, then what’s wrong with him?
Someone will know, and while Jin Ling knows better than to trust anyone in Koi Tower-- he’s 15 (almost 16, he’ll be 16 in a month), not stupid, not blind. He’s still a Jin-- he sure as hell doesn’t trust anyone else to fix this. The world’s foremost authority on dealing with demonic cultivators--
isn’t around anymore. Jiujiu used to bring demonic cultivators back to Lotus Pier, and after ensuring that they weren’t the Yiling Laozu (how, precisely, he did so has never been explained to Jin Ling, but he figures that if anyone would know how to do such a thing, it would be him) he would do his best to stop them from demonic cultivation. Not all of them would suffer being dragged back to Yunmeng, and would rather die than give up their resentful powers, but some of them could be plied from the teachings of the Yiling Laozu over the promise of a warm bed and three meals a day.
(Yunmeng Jiang hadn’t returned to its previous numbers from rogue cultivators alone, though that’s what the demonic cultivators were often labelled. And even if anyone suspected, it’s not like they would dare question Jiujiu about it. Not if they liked having their head on their shoulders and skin left on their backs.)
It’s up to Jin Ling to continue his work. And Mo Xuanyu had already been bad enough before he was kicked out of Lanling. He certainly won’t be welcome back in Koi Tower-- regardless of whether the rumors are true, they’re present and have already done damage-- but maybe Jiang Anlei, the new sect leader in Yunmeng, will be able to help, if he can get Mo Xuanyu there.
But Lan Sizhui steps forward. “Apologies, Jin-gongzi. But you said yourself this morning-- Mo Xuanyu was kicked out of Koi Tower. Lanling Jin has no more claim to him than Gusu Lan does.”
Narrowing his eyes, he barely even registers Zidian spitting on his wrist. “With how proudly your Hanguang-jun claims Mo Xuanyu, then surely this must be a Lan night hunt. And Dafan Mountain must fall under the purview of Gusu. Unless, of course, this humble gongzi is mistaken in such an assessment?”
Lan Sizhui’s expression tightens. His eyes flick towards Hanguang-jun, as if pleading with him to say something, anything, to be helpful , but of course Hanguang-jun does no such thing. Why would he? All Jin Ling has ever seen the man do is be disrespectful and stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.
Lan Wangji himself looks as regal as ever in his pristine white robes, which are so pale it makes Jin Ling want to avert his eyes from them in the midday sun. But the mass of black and red in his arms offsets the brightness enough that Jin Ling can settle for a scrunch of the nose and a scoff.
“Hanguang-jun? Do you intend to let your disciple speak for you, or are you going to share your thoughts?” Or perhaps he lets Lan Sizhui think for him, too. It would hardly be a surprise to learn that Hanguang-jun is thinking with the wrong head. Jin Ling knows the rumors about Hanguang-jun’s preferences, and even more about Mo Xuanyu’s. The only surprise would be how Mo Xuanyu-- who isn’t bad-looking but certainly isn’t on the same level as Hanguang-jun, peerless beauty as he is-- bagged that , and when it happened so that Hanguang-jun would be so eager to defend him.
Hanguang-jun does not honor him with an answer. No, that would be something approaching halfway-decent.
Instead, he mounts his sword and takes off southeast towards Gusu, not even sparing a glance for his disciples. They throw looks at each other. One of them glares up at Hanguang-jun for a moment, but they all follow their senior’s example and take off. Lan Sizhui takes the time to offer a quick salute. Apparently despite his other failings (liking Hanguang-jun, respecting him, having the audacity to be from the same sect as him) there does appear to be at least one Lan who wasn’t raised in a barn.
“Apologies again, Jin-gongzi,” Lan Sizhui tells him, an appropriately respectful smile-grimace spreading over his face. “We’ll send compensation for the nets to Koi Tower as soon as we can.”
His face redder than his ribbon, Jin Ling returns to Koi Tower. There were some smaller monsters he bagged earlier in the day-- he’s not completely-empty-handed, and he did enough to be respectable.
There’s a banquet ready when he gets back to Lanling. The sect heir’s first solo night hunt! It’s a momentous occasion, and Xiao-shushu has never been one to turn down the opportunity to throw a party. But that doesn’t mean he enjoys a moment of it.
There had been a new set of robes laid out in his room. Clean, soft, with nary an uneven stitch. Gold. He wears them now, because he doesn’t have a social death wish, but he’s certainly not happy about it. Not that he really gives himself the time to be mad about it. He’s too busy seething over the night hunt itself.
By all metrics, Hanguang-jun has no right to… well, “speak to him like that” isn’t right. Hanguang-jun would have to speak in order for that to be the case. He has no right to treat Jin Ling the way he did. To commandeer his night hunt, take Jin Ling’s uncle away for no apparent reason other than that there was nothing Jin Ling could do to stop him that wouldn’t immediately incite a war.
Hit harder next time, Zidian hisses. Strike him from the sky. Does he not deserve it?
“A-Ling? Is everything alright? You haven’t finished your meal yet.”
Sure enough, when Jin Ling pulls himself away from Zidian’s intoxicating presence, he finds that everyone around him has stood to mingle, while he’s still only halfway through his rice.
He can hardly bring himself to look at his xiao-shushu. It would be too easy to tell him everything, and that’s the last thing he wants. Xiao-shushu is already swamped with his everyday workload, and adding strife to Xiao-shushu’s relationship with his sworn brother-- he would have to demand some kind of payment for the offense done to his nephew by his sworn brother’s brother, if only to save face-- would only make things worse.
But that doesn’t change the fact that Hanguang-jun has Mo Xuanyu, who needs help. Help that Gusu won’t know how to give him. There’s a reason that demonic cultivators go to Lotus Pier instead of anywhere else. Maybe Chief Cultivator Jin Guangyao could do something, but not only does Jin Ling not want to put him in that position, Koi Tower isn’t where Mo Xuanyu needs to be either.
“Yes, Xiao-shushu,” he says. It’s not very convincing. Ever since he was little, he’s never been able to lie to Xiao-shushu. He used to think it was because his shushu was magic, but now he knows he’s just a terrible liar.
Xiao-shushu squeezes his shoulder. “You don’t have to stick around any longer if you don’t want to. You’ve had a long day.”
Jin Ling knows an opening to leave when he sees one. He normally ignores them. Being in public means it’s harder for the Nasty Cousins to corner him and be their nasty, cousinly selves. He also looks more mature if he can manage to stay for an entire banquet. He doesn’t drink, because he’s seen what it does to the Nasty Cousins and various other people at conferences and just knows that he would be even worse, but he can at least stick around until servants have to start escorting elders back to their rooms by the arm. Not tonight.
The two of them stand as one. Jin Ling is as tall as his shushu now.
“Look at you.” Xiao-shushu’s full dimply glory bursts forth, and Jin Lin finds himself smiling back. It’s hard not to. “I swear you were shorter when I sent you off yesterday. You’ll be as tall as your jiujiu was in no time.”
Xiao-shushu and Jiujiu had never been friends , per say, but they had been friendly . In the same boat. Two people who came to power far too young, following the tragic deaths of their fathers. Jin Ling hadn’t been here to see Xiao-shushu’s reaction to Jiujiu’s death, but it lingers in the way his smile fades a bit now.
Reaching into his sleeve, Xiao-shushu corrects his smile. “Congratulations again on your first night hunt, A-Ling. I’ll have all the gifts brought to your room, to go through at your leisure. For now, have this.”
And with that, he produces a letter bound in a violet ribbon, and a wooden box wrapped in teal silk. Jin Ling absently makes his goodbyes and goes back to his room.
Though he already knows what the box contains, and has been waiting to receive such a box himself for his entire life, he forces himself to read the letter before he opens it.
A-Ling , the letter opens, and he feels like he could sob at the familiar hand. The letters he has in that same hand are so well-worn from his constant folding and unfolding of them, the creases worried to points, that he could tear them with a single stray pull. So, you have completed your first solo night hunt. It went well; I would expect nothing less from you.
Once he’s done reading the rest of it, Jin Ling folds the letter back up, and forces himself to not cry until all of the ink is safely covered. He doesn’t want any of his tears to smudge the characters. He puts the letter away just to be safe, and then he reaches for the box.
The pale wood which makes this box is the same that makes up most of Lotus Pier. He’ll admit to not knowing what tree it comes from. Smooth to the touch and light as a feather, he’s almost hesitant to open it.
You’re just as much a Jiang as you are a Jin , Jiujiu’s letter said. Just as Jiang as I am, or as your mother was. If either of us had the right to carry one of these, then you have just as much of one. I wish that I could be there to help you put it on.
The box slides open with ease, and Jin Ling’s breath stops in his throat before he can do anything else. He looks to the sky and scrubs at his face with his sleeve so that none of the tears evacuating themselves from his face can fall into the box.
He takes a deep breath. Counts up to ten, then back to zero, then back up to ten for good measure. Another deep breath. Once he’s calmed down enough that he can look without cracking like a cold glass filled with hot water, he glances back down at the box.
Nestled between fluffed-up sheets of silk is a silver bell. A round thing with nine hollow petals branching off-- Jin Ling was told once that the extra resonance of the petals was what contributed to their strong cultivation properties. The violet loop of ribbon and the tassel of teal glass beads are sleek and new. The bell itself, however, is not.
He turns the bell over in his hands, tracing the delicate engravings with his fingernail. His skin against the body of the bell would normally dull the sound, but not with this bell. Clarity bells are special for a reason. The tongue of the bell strikes and rings true.
At the first peal of the bell, Zidian jumps to life on his wrist, sparking like a dying fire but Jin Ling knows that she’s not mad. She’s relieved. Elated. Zidian sat next to a clarity bell-- next to this clarity bell for 16 years. How could she not be happy to have it back, the bell’s metal against hers?
My bell! her sparks shriek to him, lighting up the room with violet joy. My bell, my bell, my bell.
Zidian’s bell. Jiang Wanyin’s bell. Jin Ling’s bell.
He fumbles with the tie, which would be embarrassing if he cared about anyone watching, but thankfully his sense of shame for what he does in his own room has been quite thoroughly destroyed due to having lived in Koi Tower for most of his life. Of course someone is watching. And they’ll get to watch him cry like a baby and then fail to tie a ribbon onto his belt for several minutes. The gossipmongers of Lanling can have a lot of fun with that one.
He curls up in bed, still in the fancy robes that he hates. But his sleeping clothes have nowhere to tie a clarity bell to. What’s a little bit of discomfort from stiff, tight clothes in exchange for the press of a clarity bell on his thigh?
Zidian will, every few seconds, zap the bell, causing it to ring out into the quiet of the room. Even from this distance, Jin Ling can hear the increasingly-raucous banquet going on, but the bell makes it insignificant.
He's been playing with this bell all his life, and knows the unique engravings on it better than he knows his own hands. The ribbon had to be replaced many times when he was little, back when he still used to stick it in his mouth and suck on the ribbon until it was ruined. The violet material is new again, with no sign of having ever been a baby’s chew toy, but it's familiar enough. The fabric in his lap is of the same make as his normal Yunmeng robes-- with one hand near his own face and one hand holding the bell, with raucous laughter in the distance, he can almost pretend that he’s back at Lotus Pier, and that Jiang Cheng is with him.
What a nice dream , Zidian croons. To be back at Lotus Pier.