One of the earliest memories Jin Ling has about his jiujiu is sparks. Purple sparks dancing around him and jiujiu, and how it feels when they dance on his skin. He doesn’t remember how old he was back then—perhaps four?—but he remembers the awe and the happiness and the warmth, and how jiujiu held him in his arms.
Later, perhaps when he was seven or eight, jiujiu sits him down in his office and takes his hand in his. Jin Ling’s hand drowns in jiujiu’s hold, his big, sword-callused hand covering Jin Ling’s short fingers and soft palm.
”This is Zidian,” jiujiu says, holding his hand so that Jin Ling sees clearly how the ring sits snug around his finger and the chain runs from the ring into the snake curling around jiujiu’s wrist.
”Zidian, this is A-Ling,” jiujiu says next, and then Jin Ling stops breathing when the snake comes alive and slithers up his arm and around him and tickles him under the chin and—
”Zidian,” jiujiu sighs.
The purple snake completes its exploration and wraps itself around Jin Ling’s wrist, shrinking down so that it looks like it was made for him.
”Hello, Zidian,” Jin Ling says.
As Jin Ling grows older, he slowly learns that not all sparks are real. Sometimes jiujiu adds sparks and crackles just for the drama, for making the people he didn’t want to deal with jump and hurry away. Jin Ling never really bothers to jump—he knows jiujiu would never really hurt him and even if jiujiu did, Zidian would refuse.
Sometimes he wonders how it would feel if the ring was destined for him. Zidian is a formidable weapon but it comes with a lot of baggage, and frankly, Jin Ling doesn’t feel like he’d be up to it. He isn’t sure that he’d ever be really comfortable with the looks the sparks draw, or carrying the legacy of the Violet Spider and Sandu Shengshou.
He’s far more comfortable with the sparks and lightning as visitors, not as permanent residents.
And even later still, when Jin Ling meets the man he thinks is his weird cutsleeve uncle; when he watches Zidian come alive with a malice he’s never witnessed before; when he closes his eyes against the blinding bright light when Zidian collides with Hanguang-jun’s spiritual energy—
Jin Ling turns his head and blinks the spots away from his vision and looks at his jiujiu, sees a teenager where his strong and fearless jiujiu stands, sees grief and loss and rage, sees love and hate and so much desperate hope that for a moment, he finds it hard to breathe.
He watches as Hanguang-jun gathers the man Jin Ling thought was his weird cutsleeve uncle in his arms and leaves, watches the juniors disperse, watches as jiujiu vibrates in place, and wonders.
(And even later still, when it’s all over, when Jin Ling is numb with shock and nauseous with terrible revelations, when there are more deaths than he could even imagine, jiujiu wraps him in such a tight hug it hurts. Jin Ling tucks his face into jiujiu’s chest and shudders.)
When Jin Ling turns seven, his xiao-shu gifts him a puppy.
”This isn’t a regular dog, A-Ling,” he says, uncharacteristically serious. ”This is a spiritual dog.”
”Oh!” Jin Ling breathes out, eyes wide. ”Really, xiao-shu? A real spiritual dog?”
Xiao-shu nods. ”She comes from a very prestigious kennel. She’ll be your friend and your guardian, and she’ll grow to be very smart.”
Jin Ling looks at the puppy on his lap. Her white and grey fur is soft like the clouds, and she looks at him with her ears perked up, amber eyes bright, and mouth opened like in a wide smile, showing white teeth and a lolling pink tongue. ”You’re pretty,” Jin Ling says to her, and she wags her tail.
”What do you want to name her?” xiao-shu asks. He’s standing at a careful distance away, hands clasped together, head tilted slightly. He looks attentive. A bit like the puppy.
”I don’t know,” Jin Ling says. ”Something pretty. Because she’s pretty.”
Xiao-shu’s eyes scrunch when he smiles. ”That’s a valid argument, A-Ling.”
Jin Ling picks the puppy up and nuzzles her neck. She squirms a bit but then decides to start licking at his face. It tickles and he laughs, making her squirm and lick even more. ”You’re like a little fairy! Xiao-shu, can I call her Little Fairy?”
”Of course you can,” xiao-shu says.
Jin Ling nods. ”Then, Little Fairy it is.”
When Little Fairy is two (and mostly grown into the size she’ll be), xiao-shu commissions a collar for her. It’s white leather adorned with golden ornaments and amber stones, and it has a bell that chimes when she runs.
”You’re not so little anymore,” Jin Ling tells her as he leans against her in the garden. ”How about I call you just Fairy from now on?”
Fairy woofs softly.
For some reason, as Fairy grows older, she no longer seems to like xiao-shu that much. As a spiritual dog, she can sense danger and resentful energy but Jin Ling doesn’t understand why she tries to keep him away from xiao-shu.
”I’m sorry, xiao-shu,” Jin Lin says one day after he had to scold Fairy when she growled at xiao-shu. ”I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”
”It’s fine, A-Ling,” xiao-shu says and smiles, but it’s a bit forced. ”I have been stressed lately and it affects my mood. Perhaps she reacts to that.”
”I guess,” Jin Ling says glumly.
”Maybe you could spend some time in Yunmeng? Fairy enjoys her time at Lotus Pier, doesn’t she? And your jiujiu likes her, too.”
”Would that be alright?” Jin Ling asks hopefully.
”Of course, A-Ling. I’ll go write him at once.”
Despite Fairy’s weird bouts of suspicion, xiao-shu always treats her well, speaks to her politely and offers small treats when he thinks Jin Ling isn’t looking. He really thought xiao-shu liked Fairy.
So, when xiao-shu tells Su Minshan to kill Fairy, Jin Ling can’t believe his ears.
”The dog is a liability,” xiao-shu says in an indifferent voice without bothering to look at Jin Ling. ”Get rid of it.”
”Xiao-shu, no!” Jin Ling yells and then screams, ”FAIRY! GET AWAY FROM HERE! RUN!”
Xiao-shu tilts his head and says, ”Be silent, A-Ling, or I’ll gag you.”
Jin Ling’s mouth snaps shut as he stares at the man he doesn’t know at all.
(Later, when he returns to Lotus Pier with jiujiu, he rips the collar off of Fairy. He can’t stand the gold and amber and the bell.
The next day, there’s a new collar waiting. This one is simple leather with a small purple lotus charm. There’s no bell.)
It’s strange what scents can do, how many memories they can bring forth—things one doesn’t even know that are there.
That’s what leather is for Jin Ling.
Not that leather itself is a rarity; it’s just that in Lanling, the only leather objects he comes across to are things like shoes or saddles or such. His belt is mostly fabric with leather parts, his guan is gold and silver, and his shoes…well. It’s not like he wants to sniff his shoes, right?
But sometimes he comes across something that’s made of leather and the scent makes him think about someone with a booming voice and big hands, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out who.
Until the Guanyin Temple.
He should be terrified, he knows. He is terrified, yes, what with Nie Mingjue’s fierce corpse charging at him and everything, but his eyes zero in on the belt.
The tooled leather belt with an aged bronze Beast of Qinghe and rings attached to it. For a moment, Jin Ling forgets about death and terror and resentful energy because—he used to hang from that ring? Didn’t he?
”A-Ling!” jiujiu screams, and then something (someone) slams into him and he’s thrown to the ground, and the blinding pain from his shoulder and elbow wipes away all thought of leather and bronze rings.
(Ages later, he’s visiting the Cloud Recesses and taking a day off from sect leader business to catch up with his friends. Jingyi feels left out because he wasn’t in the Temple with him and Sizhui, and no matter how many times Jin Ling says that being chased down by Nie Mingjue’s fierce corpse wasn’t great, Jingyi refuses to believe it.
”I have these really weird memories,” Jin Ling muses aloud. ”Like…Did I ever hang from Nie Mingjue’s belt?”
”Yes,” says someone quietly from behind them.
They scramble up and bow to Sect Leader Lan. He still looks wan and frail but not as shattered as Jin Ling remembers.
”I…did?” he asks.
Sect Leader Lan nods, a faraway look in his eyes. ”You were never afraid of him. Some children were—Mingjue had that effect on people. But you…” He looks at Jin Ling and smiles. ”You ran straight to him and grabbed that ring, then hung from it as he tried to look put-upon. But he liked it.” He ducks his head. ”He liked you.”
Jin Ling waits a moment, but when it becomes clear that Sect Leader Lan isn’t going to continue, he says, ”Thank you for telling me, Sect Leader Lan.”
He’d like to ask Sect Leader Lan tell him more about Nie Mingjue who he doesn’t remember as alive at all but he has a feeling Sect Leader Lan isn’t ready for that yet.
Perhaps someday.
Jin Ling can wait.)
Jin Ling is young when his grandfather brings Mo Xuanyu to Lanling. He’s vaguely aware of someone shy and flighty and silent who tends to flinch away from people and prefers his own company, but there’s too much going on for Jin Ling to bother thinking about someone who is just plain weird.
Later, his grandfather dies and the whole of Lanling mourns, and then xiao-shu is very busy, and then Jin Ling gets a dog and—
There’s just a lot going on.
(Sometimes, when he’s older, Jin Ling wonders if it would’ve made a difference if there had been less going on.)
”Cutsleeve,” Jin Chan sneers.
Jin Ling is eleven and very conscious of his own status and the fact that, apart from Fairy, he’s completely alone in Koi Tower. His agemates are peers in name and status only; they neither are nor want to be his friends. They meet occasionally (as in when Jin Ling can’t manage to avoid them) and the meetings usually end up in verbal or physical fights.
But not this time.
Jin Ling keeps a hold of Fairy’s collar and peeks around the corner. Jin Chan and his gang of bullies stand around…wait. Someone slender who flinches from them—is that xiao-shu’s younger brother? Jin Ling isn’t quite sure of what a cutsleeve is, but it’s bound to be something shameful because Jin Chan’s gang shoves the older boy and spits on the ground.
One push is hard enough to topple him and he falls, smacking his shoulder on the ground. For a moment, he merely lies there, trembling, before pushing himself to his knees. When he does, Jin Ling gets a good look at his face.
It’s—
It’s a sight for sure.
His face is covered in pale powder with plum-red circles on his cheeks, and his tears have smudged long streaks along his cheeks, making the sight even more frightening. For a moment, Jin Ling isn’t sure if he’s looking at a person or a ghost!
”Yeah, you damn cutsleeve,” Jin Chang sneers again and spits on the ground. ”You should just get the hell away from Lanling, Mo Xuanyu!”
Mo Xuanyu’s eyes meet Jin Ling’s and immediately dart away, and then he pushes himself up and runs, Jin Chan’s mocking echoing after him.
Not long after, Mo Xuanyu is expelled for improper behavior.
Jin Ling is appalled when he hears what had happened and swears he’ll beat Mo Xuanyu up if he ever meets him again.
(He meets Mo Xuanuy again and is unable to do more than rage, first caught under a talisman, then confronted by a dancing goddess, then ending up buried almost alive in a Nie tomb, and by then he’s already aware that this person is not Mo Xuanyu at all. The powder and rouge are gone, and in the place of a cowering and sniveling cutsleeve lunatic is a sharp, smart, and terrifyingly competent man who might or might not still be a cutsleeve.
Jin Ling decides that perhaps he won’t beat him up after all.)
For as long as Jin Ling can remember, he’s been taught that Wei Wuxian was a heartless monster who murdered Jin Ling’s parents and then indiscriminately slaughtered thousands of cultivators in the Nightless City.
He’s been taught that Wei Wuxian was the worst thing that ever happened to the Cultivation world.
It’s a bit disconcerting to realize that not only is everything he’s been taught a blatant lie but also the moods of the Cultivation world shift like the wind, and today’s hero might just as easily be tomorrow’s villain and vice versa.
The first new thing he learns about Wei Wuxian is that he’s terrified of dogs. This comes as a surprise because the biggest monster of the cultivation world shouldn’t be afraid of anything, right? But he is, and as a result, he sits in a pitiful heap and lets out a continuous high whine, shivering like a leaf as Fairy tilts her head, clearly trying to figure out who this person is.
”G-g-g-get it a-away from m-me!” Wei Wuxian whimpers, flinching so hard he nearly topples over as Fairy leans forward a bit.
Jin Ling scoffs. ”Fairy isn’t going to hurt anyone,” he says, and then hurriedly adds, ”Unless I tell her to!”
Wei Wuxian lets out a sob.
Pitiful.
(Jin Ling ends up letting him go but only because there’s something strange going on in Qinghe and he wants to know what it is.)
The second new thing Jin Ling learns about Wei Wuxian is that he’s mean and a bully. He takes advantage of Jin Ling’s respect (not fear!) of Hanguang-jun and then renders him unconscious with a combination of acupoints, leaving him prone on the ground in the woods, resulting in one irate jiujiu and a set of completely ruined robes.
(Jin Ling can feel the telltale ache of a removed curse in his leg and wonders how the hell Wei Wuxian managed to both find and deal with it so fast, considering Jin Ling hadn’t been cursed before the Nie tombs and Wei Wuxian had him less than a shichen after.)
The third new thing Jin Ling learns about Wei Wuxian is that he’s brilliant and terrifying and also a terrible cook and that he should never, ever, never eat anything he cooks ever again.
The fourth new thing Jin Ling learns about Wei Wuxian is how terrible it feels to stab someone.
The sight of Suihua sliding into Wei Wuxian’s side and out again, drawing bright red blood in its wake will live in Jin Ling’s nightmares for a long, long time.
(The terrible thing Jin Ling learns about Wei Wuxian is the way he smiles when he’s been stabbed.)
The fifth new thing Jin Ling learns about Wei Wuxian is that he has very little respect for other cultivators’ status. During what will later be named as the Second Siege of the Burial Mounds, Jin Ling stands next to jiujiu and listens to Wei Wuxian first lecture the sect leaders present and then use himself as the lure flag to save those who a short while earlier were ready to kill him.
(Another terrible thing Jin Ling learns about Wei Wuxian is the way he’s resigned to being hated.)
The sixth new thing Jin Ling learns about Wei Wuxian is just how much he loves jiujiu and the horrible shape that love can take (has taken).
He would like to stop learning new, upsetting things about Wei Wuxian now.
After the Guanyin Temple, Jin Ling stops counting. He still learns new things about Wei Wuxian, like what an absolute goofball he is, how much he adores his horrible donkey, how absolutely shameless he is with his Hanguang-jun, and how extensive his knowledge and understanding of talismans is.
He learns not to trust Wei Wuxian’s food orders in a restaurant.
He learns not to trust Wei Wuxian when he says he’s okay, really, it doesn’t even hurt that much.
He learns to ignore Wei Wuxian’s sputtering when he tells him to shut up and visit, and yes, he’ll send Fairy away for the duration of da-jiu’s visit—no, wait, what, shut up who’s da-jiu.
He learns to sit quietly next to Wei Wuxian and listen to him talk for hours about his shijie—Jin Ling’s mother—until his voice is gone and all that’s left is a wistful smile full of longing.
(He also learns that jiujiu never struck Wei Wuxian from the Sect Records, and keeps carefully silent about it.)
Jin Ling is pretty sure that the only reason he’s still alive after stabbing Wei Wuxian to the side is because Hanguang-jun was too busy fleeing the Koi Tower to bother with striking him down.
He’s pretty sure that if looks could kill, he would be very much dead.
Hanguang-jun has always been a distant figure in Jin Ling’s life. He wasn’t talked about much in Koi Tower back when he was younger (and when xiao-shu was still alive), only mentioned in passing whenever xiao-shu asked Zewu-jun about his family.
”Wangji is still in seclusion,” Zewu-jun would say. Or, ”Uncle is fine. Busy with the new syllabus he’s constructing. Wangji is busy night-hunting.” Or, ”Everything is fine.”
Zewu-jun always looked the same and xiao-shu always gave him the usual dimpled smile. It wouldn’t be until years later that Jin Ling would realize there was something strange about the whole interaction.
In Lotus Pier, Hanguang-jun was discussed even less. Jin Ling didn’t know why, but he knew that jiujiu absolutely hated Hanguang-jun and apparently, the feeling was mutual. On the rare occasion they met at a crowd hunt, jiujiu and Hanguang-jun would ignore each other and reside in icy silence while everyone else walked on eggshells around them.
Now, though?
Honestly, it’s pretty mortifying to be on the receiving end of Hanguang-jun’s icy contempt. In a way, Jin Ling gets it: he deserves the suspicion and anger because he did stab Wei Wuxian, and from what he’s managed to scrape together, the willingness to hurt Wei Wuxian hasn’t been a smart move.
Not that he intends to do it more! Because he doesn’t!
”Aiyah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian murmurs when Jin Ling approaches him at an inn. Jin Ling is there to meet with Sizhui, Jingyi, and Zizhen, and the presence of Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun is a bit of a surprise.
Jin Ling bows to both Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun. Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes and pinches his cheek. Hanguang-jun looks like being under the same roof as Jin Ling is beneath him, so he pretends he isn’t there.
”Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says again, sharper now.
Hanguang-jun turns his head and slowly faces Jin Ling. ”Sect Leader Jin,” he says through his teeth.
”There!” Wei Wuxian says, patting Hanguang-jun’s shoulder lightly. ”It wasn’t so bad, right?” When Hanguang-jun doesn’t comment, the smile drains out of Wei Wuxian’s face. ”No, Lan Zhan. I mean it,” he says softly. ”Jin Ling is shijie’s son and my nephew. Yes, he stabbed me, but he had a very good reason. I’ve already forgiven him.” He tilts his head. ”Besides, he managed to stab me in the same spot as Jiang Cheng did back then!”
”Jiujiu stabbed you?!” Jin Ling blurts out, eyes wide.
Wei Wuxian waves his hand. ”Aiyah, it was literally in another life, and it was all for a show anyway. It’s all forgotten!”
”Wei Ying,” Hanguang-jun says, sounding pained.
Wei Wuxian huffs and presses closer to him, and yes, this is when Jin Ling makes himself scarce. He’s learned to retreat the moment Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun get that look in their eyes.
Slowly but surely, the icy look in Hanguang-jun’s eyes thaws out. It takes time but Jin Ling doesn’t mind; the more he learns about Wei Wuxian, the more he learns just how incapable he is to take care of himself. The final step is when Wei Wuxian gets concussed during a night-hunt because he flung himself in front of Jin Ling to (totally unnecessarily!) shield him. Jin Ling yells at him for so long that the amused look in Wei Wuxian’s eyes turns into bewilderment and then teary-eyed fondness when he declares Jin Ling sounds exactly like his jiujiu.
(”You’re a fucking adult, Wei Wuxian!” Jin Ling yells. ”You’re supposed to take care of yourself! And you’re not! So we have to do it for you!”
Behind Wei Wuxian, Hanguang-jun looks both offended for his husband and appreciative of Jin Ling’s concern.)
After everything that’s happened, Jin Ling finds it very strange to attend a cultivation conference and look at Sect Leader Nie because…it makes no sense.
It makes no sense that Sect Leader Nie, who was a whiny, flighty, incompetent mess for the majority of Jin Ling’s life is now a competent, highly intelligent man on his way to being a Chief Cultivator. It makes no sense that the man Jin Ling remembers as having tantrums and crying on Jin Guangyao’s arm is calm and collected, and tilts his head with a small smile playing in the corner of his mouth that hardly ever says ”I don’t know” anymore.
Jin Ling remembers someone who seemed too young to lead a sect, someone who drowned in robes that looked like they were leftovers from his late brother, someone who was helpless, hapless, and scared.
Nie Huaisang is none of that.
And Jin Ling doesn’t know what to think.
”Sect Leader Jin, a moment, if you please.”
Nie Huaisang’s voice stops Jin Ling on his tracks, and he turns, sees Nie Huaisang walk toward him in unhurried steps. He’s wearing smoky green robes and the fan he carries depicts a lush green forest—perhaps a scenery from somewhere in Qinghe? Jin Ling isn’t sure.
”Sect Leader Nie,” Jin Ling greets him and bows. For a moment, he thinks about roundabout ways to pay him a compliment of a well-organized conference, but it reminds him too much of Jin Guangyao, and he flinches back from the idea. Instead, he crosses his arms across his chest and says bluntly, ”You look different.”
”Mn,” Nie Huaisang says, sounding amused. ”And you sound like your jiujiu.”
Jin Ling shrugs. ”He makes it work, so I’ve decided to try it out. At least it’ll be different from anything Lanling has had in generations.”
”That is true,” Nie Huaisang murmurs. ”How have you been?”
”Do you actually care?” Jin Ling asks, genuinely curious.
”Ah,” Nie Huaisang says. A fleeting look of sadness flickers over his face and disappears, and Jin Ling isn’t sure if it was genuine or something Nie Huaisang chose to show him, and then he’s annoyed he’s thinking about it.
”Walk with me, Jin Ling,” Nie Huaisang says softly. He turns and heads to a door that turns out to lead to a small inner courtyard with carefully cultivated trees and a huge koi pond. Nie Huaisang sits on a bench next to the pond and gazes into it, following the lazily swimming fish for a while.
”I thought birds were your thing,” Jin Ling says, taking a seat next to him.
”They were,” Nie Huaisang agrees. ”But I think I’ve grown out of trapping beautiful things in cages to sing for me.”
”We’re sitting by a koi pond,” Jin Ling points out. ”Aren’t they just as trapped?”
”These fish were a gift,” Nie Huaisang says. ”My grandfather gave them to my grandmother when my father was born. That’s why they’re so big.” He watches the fish for a moment longer, then sighs and turns to face Jin Ling. ”You asked if I care,” Nie Huaisang says. ”The answer is yes. Of course I care—I care about many things and many people. The fact that my actions hurt them is unfortunate but ultimately worth the pain.”
”Is it, though?” Jin Ling asks. ”I mean, I understand xiao-shu. But Zewu-jun?”
Nie Huaisang’s smile cuts like a shard of glass. ”Sometimes sacrifices are necessary.”
Jin Ling isn’t sure if Nie Huaisang truly believes it or if it’s just a phrase he says, hoping it’ll stick. He shakes his head and decides to answer Nie Huaisang’s original question. ”I’m okay. It’s been years and I think things are finally starting to settle. There’s still a lot of work to be done but I’m getting the hang of it.”
”And having the newly reformed Yiling Patriarch as your uncle…” Nie Huaisang says.
Jin Ling gives him a sharp look. ”I might channel jiujiu when I yell but I don’t make him or da-jiu do my work for me.”
”That’s not what I meant,” Nie Huaisang placates.
”Then please, elaborate, Sect Leader Nie,” Jin Ling says tightly.
Nie Huaisang sighs. ”It was just a joke,” he murmurs. ”Your sect might need some serious reforming, but it’s still standing and you have your family to help you out.” His hand clenches momentarily around the closed fan and then relaxes again as he stands up. ”It was good to see you, Sect Leader Jin,” he says, not quite meeting his eyes again.
As Nie Huaisang walks away, Jin Ling tilts his head and wonders who the man really is.
He also wonders how very lonely he must be.
The first time it happens purely by accident.
Jin Ling has taken some time off from his sect leader duties to empty his mind with some night-hunting. Luckily, Sizhui, Jingyi, and Zizhen were available, and they had a very good, not-at-all terrifying time fighting a nest of bat yao. They ended up drenched in viscous, foul-smelling ooze and decided to head to the Cloud Recesses to recuperate.
”Is da-jiu here?” Jin Ling asks as they stumble their way up the stairs.
”No,” Jingyi says and manages to roll his eyes even though he’s visibly so tired he can barely keep his eyes open. ”He and Hanguang-jun are on a trip.”
Jin Ling frowns. ”What trip? Where?”
”I don’t know and I don’t want to know,” Jingyi says with a theatrical shudder. ”It’s the anniversary of their love confessions, and the whole Cloud Recesses is glad they’re away.”
”Ah,” Jin Ling says and then freezes mid-step.
Anniversary.
Oh. Shit.
He takes a bath, uses several talismans to get the gunk out of his hair and the stink out of his skin, and then he heads to the secluded area where the main family residences are.
Because it’s the anniversary of Jin Guangyao’s death, and he’s ready to bet his sword that’s all Lan Xichen is capable of thinking about today.
It slowly becomes a thing.
Jin Ling arrives at the day it happened and spends it with Lan Xichen, stays in the guest quarters for the night, and flies home the next day.
Sometimes they sit in silence, sometimes they drink tea and talk. Sometimes Lan Xichen tells him funny anecdotes about Jin Guangyao’s small idiosyncrasies, sometimes all he can do is grip his xiao and try to breathe.
And sometimes Jin Ling talks about his gentle and considerate xiao-shu, the one who always had time for him, the one who gifted him Fairy, the one who taught him to stand straight and ignore other people’s hurtful comments.
He and Lan Xichen both had loved and been betrayed by the same man, and while the shape of their love had been different, the core was (is) the same.
It’s been nine years since the events in the Guanyin Temple, and Jin Ling is on his way up the stairs, heading to the Cloud Recesses once again. He stops quickly by Teacher Lan’s office and leaves a small stack of books on his desk, then he makes a detour to the Jingshi and places a package of a new sample of chilies he’d found for da-jiu next to the door and activates a stasis talisman to keep them from spoiling. (He doesn’t bother to try the door—he did that once, and the burnmarks from the locking talisman took three and a half weeks to heal. Da-jiu was very apologetic.)
There’s no need for him to look for Sizhui or Jingyi or send them a message. They’ve learned that on this particular day, Jin Ling is unavailable for everyone except for Lan Xichen, and they respect that.
The Hanshi is quiet as he approaches, a dim light peeking from between the curtains. Jin Ling knocks and waits for a moment before sliding the door open.
”It’s me,” he says.
”Mn,” Lan Xichen’s voice replies.
As Jin Ling makes it further into the Hanshi, he sees Lan Xichen sitting at the table, already preparing tea. It’s the silvery kind, Jin Guangyao’s favorite. Jin Ling has noticed that Lan Xichen makes it when he’s feeling especially melancholic.
He sets his souvenirs—a small box of Lanling candy Lan Xichen has confessed to liking—to the side table and then sits, patient, non-judgmental.
”I have now lived longer without him than with him,” Lan Xichen says, staring at the small amount of white sand scattered next to the incense burner. ”I don’t understand why it still hurts.”
”You love him,” Jin Ling says quietly.
Lan Xichen closes his eyes and shakes his head.
”He was a part of my life for 16 years,” Jin Ling says. ”I didn’t know a life without him—and sometimes I still turn around and expect him to be there, bookkeeping or making notes in one of his ubiquitous notebooks even though he didn’t have to.”
”His memory was exceptional,” Lan Xichen agrees. ”He could recall weiqi games from years past move by move.” He ducks his head with a small smile. ”Sometimes he pointed out that I’d already tried that sequence of moves three years ago and since it didn’t work then, he wasn’t sure why I thought it would work now.”
Jin Ling snorts. He picks up the teapot and pours, breathing in the delicate aroma. It’s not his favorite tea, but this is more for Lan Xichen anyway.
A moment later, Lan Xichen whispers, ”Sometimes I hate him. So much. For ruining it, for not seeing another way out. And sometimes I hate Huaisang for—” He chokes up.
”Mn,” Jin Ling says.
”Sometimes I hate myself the most,” Lan Xichen says in a toneless voice.
Jin Ling doesn’t reply. Instead, he moves to sit next to Lan Xichen, leans against his side, and places his hand on his knee, palm up. Sometimes Lan Xichen takes his hand and grips it so hard it hurts. Sometimes he doesn’t even open his eyes, merely trembles in place. It makes no difference to Jin Ling.
None of these things is new. They’re variations of the same conversation they’ve had since the first time Jin Ling sat down in the Hanshi; dialogue and monologue, arguments and counter-arguments, statements, whispers, and silence, and they all come back to the same thoughts.
How it feels to love and lose.
How it feels to trust and be betrayed.
How it feels to see the good and the bad, both in oneself and in others.
And how it feels to keep on living regardless.
Jin Ling thinks that might be the greatest bravery of all.
