Chapter Text
Yanli sat looking at the scroll in her hands, which had been tied closed with a roughly-woven white linen ribbon.
“A funeral.” She stopped. “For the crows.” She looked up at Nie Zonghui, who was shifting uncomfortably. “What?”
He nodded apologetically. “Young Master collected all the crow bodies and has organized an official funeral pyre for them.” He paused, before continuing with a huff and holding up one hand, pinching his thumb and forefinger closely together. “We at least talked him out of doing teeny tiny pyres for each bird individually.”
Next to her, propped up in the bed with his hands wrapped in thick bandages, his face and neck slathered with a healing salve and a few acupuncture needles sticking out of his forehead like porcupine quills, Ying’er blinked slowly. “Oh, that’s a good idea,” he slurred. The pain medication the Nie doctors were giving him regularly every few hours was quite strong.
“You think so?” Yanli asked, repressing a fond smile.
“Mmm. The ghosts…linger.”
Nie Zonghui looked confused, and Yanli shook her head. “The ghosts of the crows?”
“No, the soldiers.”
“The Wen soldiers?” Nie Zonghui asked, leaning closer.
“No, the soldiers who possessed the crows for me.” Ying’er blinked again at their shocked surprise. “You didn’t really believe the crows magically turned into human soldiers, did you?”
“Yes I did!” Nie Zonghui said, his voice pitching up an octave. “Are you saying the crows were possessed by the ghosts of dead soldiers?”
“Uh, yeah. The Burial Mounds has got a lot of ‘em, y’know,” Ying’er mumbled and then drifted off to sleep again.
Nie Zonghui took a moment to gaze into the distance with a horrified expression before he spun around and sprinted out of their guest pavilion without even a parting bow.
Yanli clutched the invitation, which was elegantly written on fine paper, until it crumpled.
“Oh dear.” Across from her, A’Yao gazed at where Nie Zonghui had dashed out of the room.
“Hm. I shall go have a word with Nie Popo.” Meng Shi got up from where she had been playing a restful tune on the extravagant guqin Nie Mingjue had gifted her and gracefully glided out of the room. Yanli thought she could probably teach the Lan a few things.
A’Yao watched his mother leave with a conflicted look. It took Yanli a moment to remember that Nie Popo had moved her office to Nie Mingjue’s sickroom, meaning that Meng Shi would probably be talking to him as well (if he was awake, which mostly he was not).
“Nie Mingjue is restrained to his sickbed, with both Sang’er and Nie Popo all but sitting on him. I doubt he will have the chance to be improper, if he’s even fully conscious.” Yanli smiled at him.
“Harumph,” he said, and pulled the cooling cloth out of the ice tub and wrung it out before using it to pat down whatever part of Ying’er’s skin was clear. The fever was not dangerous, but they were all taking turns trying to keep him cool. A’Yao could not feed him qi, as his damaged core was still locked down, and he grimaced with pain sometimes when he leaned over too far.
But they were alive. They were all improbably, unbelievably, alive.
The first few hours after the end of the battle had been pure chaos, and they had only managed to convince the Nie doctors to allow them to tend to Ying’er in their guest pavilion instead of the Nie healing wing because there was still actual fighting going on. The Nie forces had gone head-to-head with any remaining Wen, most of whom chose to fight to the death rather than lay down their weapons. The few who fled into the wilderness were ruthlessly hunted down, and not many brought back alive.
It took a full day for Nie Popo and Nie Zonghui to bring the fortress back to rights, which included finding a way to get Baxia inside the walls because she kept reacting violently whenever Nie Mingjue was carried out of her direct line of sight. A’Cheng cried laughing as he related how they had to put Nie Mingjue’s unconscious body on a litter to carry him around the fortress, luring Baxia to follow, then going halfway up the back mountain and down again to fly off a cliff and land in a large training yard, the turtle leaping after them. Tears streamed down his face as he described “The Flying Xuanwu of Qinghe.”
They had also turned Saber Hall into his hospital room, as the front doors could be slid all the way open and the hall itself was tall enough for Baxia to rest her head just inside, dozing and snuffling and keeping a wary eye on the very nervous doctors tending to their sect leader. Yanli had made Nie Huaisang promise to draw the scene because it sounded hilarious.
Less amusing was Nie Mingjue’s situation, which was for the most part unknown, aside from the symptoms. The Yin Saber was fused to his hand, and all signs pointed to severely disrupted meridians, but the doctors managed to keep him calm and lucid, which Nie Huaisang said would have been impossible if it was a true qi deviation affecting him.
“Sect Leader Wei, should I follow Madam Meng?” Liu Peng stood at the door, holding a tray of snacks and looking off in the direction that Meng Shi had gone. It seemed her coping mechanism for all the stress was attempting to stuff her charges as full of food as they would allow, so this was hardly the first try of goodies she had delivered that day.
“No, I don’t believe that is necessary.” Yanli closed the book she had been trying to read before Nie Zonghui visited them, giving it up as a lost cause for the moment.
Liu Peng carefully maneuvered over to them. An open-framed bed had been moved into the main room for Ying’er, as the boys’ bedroom was too small for all of them to gather and no one wanted to be out of sight of the others. It meant the room had become somewhat of an obstacle course, and Liu Peng still had a bandage over one eye from where one of the Jiang guards had knocked her out while she was waiting for Yanli to come out of her meeting with Jiang Fengman. It seemed like it had all happened months ago, not days, but it had been Liu Peng screaming for help from a closet that had alerted the Nies to the kidnapping. Yanli was assured by Nie Popo herself that Liu Peng’s eye was not permanently damaged, and Yanli was scheming with A’Yao on how to ask for Liu Peng to join their own staff without insulting her or Nie Popo.
Because, apparently, Yanli needed a staff now.
With the war well and truly engaged, it was fitting to call a conference of the great sects, but at the moment, of the three sects that should be standing with the Nie in opposition in the Wen, the Jiang were considered fallen (and Jiang Fengmian unaccounted for), the Lan fate unknown, and the Jin steadfastly claiming neutrality. At least, that had been the case prior to the return of Nie Mingjue carrying the Yin Saber and riding his beastly steed, Baxia. According to Nie Huaisang, there was already a popular song being performed in the inns of Qinghe about Nie Mingjue’s triumph in battle, dramatically titled “Caw of Shadows, Song of Slaughter.”
“L’zhahnnnn…” Ying’er mumbled in his sleep. A’Yao frowned.
“That is the first he’s said his name,” he said, studying Ying’er’s face.
They sat in silence as Liu Peng set out the plates of fruit and light pastries while Ying’er squirmed and repeated Lan Wangji’s name a few times before lapsing into a deep sleep. Yanli could not help but think that it did not bode well. Wen Chao had probably retreated to the attack on Gusu Lan after his spectacular failure at Muxi Mountain, and would likely push twice as hard against the Lan to make up for it.
“JieJie! I’m back! And look who I found helping out with the cleanup!” A’Cheng bounced in, blithely unware of the mood of the room, trailing Jiang Wu.
Liu Peng gasped and dropped a plate, which shattered. She did not even seem to notice, her entire focus on Jiang Wu.
Jiang Wu went pale and wide eyed. “You’re alive!”
Everyone looked between them for a moment, but neither of them moved.
The memory flooded Yanli’s mind as she watched them:
“I am here by request of Sect Leader Jiang. Please tell him Sect Leader Wei is here.” She said.
“Yes, Young Mistress—ah, I mean, Sect Leader Wei.”
“Thank you, Jiang Wu.”
Jiang Wu looked unhappy, but went inside with the message.
“Liu Peng, you may go. I will be fine. Jiang Fengmen is not an ally, but I am safe here.”
The girl frowned and was clearly trying to figure out how to argue with her without being disrespectful. “May I at least wait for you here?”
“Did you injure Liu Peng?” She asked, standing. A’Cheng glanced at Jiang Wu and subtlety shifted away from him, while A’Yao unsteadily dragged himself to his feet, a fierce glower on his face.
“No!” He turned to face Yanli then slumped. “But I did not help her. Jiang Yang knocked her out and dragged her into a closet. I…I stood by and—”
“You saved my life!” Liu Peng yelled, startling herself. She covered her mouth, then stepped forward and bowed. “The other one wanted to kill me! He was going to slit my throat! But you told him not to! You said knocking me out would be enough! Thank you! Thank you!” She had started crying, and one hand flew up to put pressure against the bandages. Yanli hurried over and forced her to stand up.
Jiang Wu dropped to the ground in a full kowtow. “This one regrets his part in the fair maiden’s injury and the kidnapping of Sect Leader Wei! I am so sorry! I—” He stopped and bowed his head to the floor.
Yanli frowned. The five remaining Jiang who had traveled with them were essentially deserters and had no protection from any sect. One had already disappeared in the night, presumably to try to return to Jiang Fengmian’s side, but Jiang Wu was one of the four who had fought honorably beside them and helped them during the trip back to the Unclean Realm, when he could have easily fled. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do.
“Why did you argue for her life?” A’Yao snapped the words, sounding like the seneschal he was.
“I…I did not know of Sect Leader Jiang’s plans, but we all knew that he was planning to flee Qinghe as quickly as possible for some reason. I had my concerns, but I have served Yunmeng Jiang loyally since I was accepted as a disciple when I was seven years old. I wanted to believe that…that Sect Leader could not possibly mean to betray our principles, that he would not condone the murder of an innocent servant!” He looked up at Yanli, tears in his eyes. “I remember, Young Mistress Jiang, I remember—I remember the day you were cast out. It was as if the heart of the sect went with you. Several shidi wanted to run on the heels of Wei Ying when he disappeared, but I told them you would not want them to. Yet I understood their desire, in that moment. My doubts were planted that day, and I swore to myself that if proof of Sect Leader’s descent into depravity became apparent, that I would leave the sect and become a rogue cultivator.” He finished with a shaking voice, and lowered his head again.
“What do you ask of Sect Leader Wei?” A’Yao demanded gravely.
“Nothing! Nothing is mine to ask. I only seek to explain why I was where I was, and my part in allowing the young maiden to be hurt. I accept all blame. I only beg the mercy of Sect Leader Wei!”
There was a long, heavy silence that followed. A’Cheng, who no doubt remembered Jiang Wu from before, the same as Yanli did, looked conflicted.
“Sect Leader Wei,” Liu Peng said, turning to Yanli. “I ask for leniency on his behalf. He saved my life, and has disavowed the sect who asked such deplorable things of him. Please show mercy.” She bowed.
A’Yao gave Yanli a look that said clearly it was up to her. She took a deep breath.
“You were always kind to me, and the littlest shidis and shimeis under your care. I believe your heart is good, and that your actions over the past week, including sparing Liu Peng’s life, speak well of you. I cannot extend any protection to you, but as of now, the Yiling Wei sect has no grievance against you. Please rise, and be at peace.”
He crawled to his feet, tears streaming down his face. A’Cheng sighed heavily and steered him back out of the guest house, talking loudly about how Jiang Wu could help him brush up on his rusty Jiang forms.
Yanli sincerely hoped that was the end of drama for at least a day or two. She knew she could not ask for more than that, given Wen Ruohan’s war at their door, but she prayed for that much, at least.
Next to her, Ying’er cried out for Lan Zhan again.