It’s so late it’s getting early, and Zizhen is pretty sure that there’s a chance their Lans will walk through the door before he and Jin Ling even get to bed. But it’s okay; it’s not like they have anywhere to go. They just finished a simple-on-paper-but-actually-complicated night-hunt, then had a massive dinner, and when Sizhui and Jingyi started to nod off, Jin Ling sent them off and stayed to share one more drink with Zizhen. One drink turned to a jar turned to four and, well.
”I’m not sure I’ll be good at this,” Jin Ling mutters. He’s leaning onto the low daybed where Zizhen is currently sprawled on, staring into the embers in the fireplace. Fairy snores next to him on her back, all four legs in the air, nose twitching and front paws paddling every now and then. She looks silly.
Zizhen isn’t sure why there’s a fireplace in this room but it looks cool.
”Good at what?” he asks a moment later when his sluggish brain catches up with what Jin Ling said earlier.
”This…” Jin Ling waves a hand vaguely around. ”Sect leading thing.”
”Why wouldn’t you be?”
”Why would I be?”
”Exactly!” Zizhen proclaims.
Jin Ling turns to frown at him. ”What the fuck, Zizhen?”
”No, no, yeah, no, wait, listen,” Zizhen says, the words tripping over each other as he tries to explain his brilliant point of view. ”I think everyone sucks at it. You’ll be no exception.”
”Thanks,” Jin Ling mutters.
”You’re welcome!” Zizhen beams. He stares at the slowly darkening fireplace with his head lolling over the edge of the daybed and thinks that the fireplace looks very strange upside down.
Fairy starts to huff in her sleep, and then she barks, startles herself awake, and gives Jin Ling a profoundly betrayed look.
”No, but honestly, think about it,” Zizhen continues. ”Sect Leader Nie…actually, no, let’s not talk about Sect Leader Nie,” he corrects. ”Your jiujiu. He was, what? Seventeen? Eighteen? When he became Sect Leader Jiang. And his sect was, like, three people strong. Tragic.”
Jin Ling lets out a grumble.
”And the Lan? Teacher Lan was forced to step in as the acting sect leader when his brother fucked off and locked himself into his cabin for forever, and left his two kids for Teacher Lan to care for at the same time. And when Zewu-jun was ready to take over? Bam! War. And then…everything else.”
He reaches blindly out to haphazardly pat Jin Ling on the head. ”Your predecessors were a power-hungry rapist and the son of a prostitute who married his sister, murdered his own kid, and killed everyone who looked him wrong. It’s not like the bar is very high.”
”Really reassuring, Zizhen. I mean it. Thank you. Now I feel a lot better.”
”Aiyah, you turnip!” Zizhen huffs. ”Every sect leader has to start from something, and this current generation of Great Sects’ leaders has been through some shit. There are other sect leaders you could channel, but…” he pauses and jabs Jin Ling to the ribs. ”Sect Leader Yu?”
Jin Ling shivers.
”My dad has been a sect leader for decades, but he’s also very careful to keep us out of the way so that we’re not implicated in anything—and he still managed to get us into trouble.” He pauses. ”Although that’s mostly because of the Yao.”
”Fucking Sect Leader Yao,” Jin Ling mutters darkly. ”He’s a cockroach. Always manages to survive and crawl up from under some rock and start again.”
”Mn. Did you know that cockroaches can live several days with their heads cut off?”
Jin Ling makes a retching sound.
”Yeah,” Zizhen agrees. He pats around, looking for the wine jar, and then realizes that drinking upside down wouldn’t probably work.
”My point is,” he says, trying to crane his neck to look at Jin Ling, gets a crick in his neck, and decides to slide down the daybed to slump next to Jin Ling and lean on him instead. ”My point is,” he starts again, ”that we always think that other people have their shit together. And they probably don’t, it just seems like it because we have no fucking clue what’s going on inside their heads. Or in their lives. Besides,” he says and nudges Jin Ling, accidentally so hard that he loses his balance and collapses on top of Fairy, who thinks it’s playtime and starts jumping around Jin Ling, barking excitedly.
”Urgh, Fairy, stop,” Jin Ling groans. ”Gege is too tired to play.” He pats his lap, and Fairy sighs, then flops on Jin Ling’s lap with a contented air.
Dogs. Such happy creatures. Sometimes Zizhen wonders what it would be like to be a dog.
”Besides what,” Jin Ling says.
”What?”
Jin Ling sighs and gives him an exasperated look. ”You said ’besides’ and then knocked me over.”
”Oh,” Zizhen says and frowns, laboriously thinking back at his words. ”Oh! Right! Besides, you aren’t alone! You have your jiujiu and your dajiu and us!”
”Us?”
Zizhen gives him a wounded look. ”Of course! Look, I’m gonna be Sect Leader Ouyang at some point. Sizhui is the sect heir and Jingyi is his second. We’ll help you to be the best Sect Leader Jin you can be!”
Jin Ling stares at him for a moment and then looks down and swallows. ”Right,” he says a moment later in a hoarse voice.
”Are you crying? Jin Ling, don’t cry or I’ll cry too! And then we’ll both cry! And then Fairy will be concerned! And—”
”Oh shut the fuck up already,” Jin Ling chokes out as he turns and draws Zizhen into a tight hug. On his lap, Fairy lets out a bark, again happy for the obvious playtime.
This is when the door opens, admitting Sizhui and Jingyi, ready for the new day.
”Sizhui! Jingyi!” Zizhen calls out, beckoning them closer. ”Come! We’re having a hug!”
”Why?” Jingyi asks as Sizhui huffs a laugh and sits on Jin Ling’s other side.
Zizhen lifts his head from Jin Ling’s shoulder and glares at him. ”Because we’re helping Jin Ling to be the Best Fucking Sect Leader Jin he can, okay?”
Jingyi’s brows shoot up. ”How much did you drink?” he asks.
”Absolutely the correct amount,” Zizhen proclaims, grabs Jingyi’s robes, and yanks him down.
”Now. Hug,” he says.
It’s a good hug because they’re the bestest of friends anyone—and especially the new Sect Leader Jin—would ever want. Obviously.
He’s nursing his hangover with a pot of bitter tea when Sizhui sits next to him.
”Thank you. For whatever you said,” he says.
”What?” Zizhen asks.
Sizhui huffs and gently bumps his shoulder against his in a move that reminds Zizhen a lot of Senior Wei. ”Jin Ling. He’s in a better mood.”
”Ah.” Zizhen cocks his head, then rapidly decides it was the wrong move, and takes another sip of his tea. ”I might have been a bit blunt.”
He’d been very blunt and very rude, but his head is hurting enough that he doesn’t have the energy to be mortified about it right now. Besides, everything he’d said had been the truth.
Sizhui chuckles. ”I heard. Jingyi was outraged that he wasn’t present for it.”
”Jingyi is more than capable of being blunt on all our behalf,” Zizhen says dryly.
”Mn,” Sizhui says and falls silent for a moment. ”How are you feeling?”
”Delicate,” Zizhen says. ”Like my head is full of wool and like it’s a barrel of sloshing water at the same time.”
Sizhui lets out a thoughtful sound. ”Wouldn’t that just make it a barrel full of sopping wet wool?”
”You,” Zizhen says, turning to give his friend a narrow-eyed look but ending up squinting at the sunlight pouring in from the window. It frames Sizhui in a brilliant halo, making him look like some divine creature descended from the Heavens.
”You are too bright,” he mutters.
”Don’t you mean the sunlight is too bright?” Sizhui teases.
”No,” Zizhen says, suddenly dead serious because this analogy makes sense. ”You are bright to the point of blinding but you can’t see it yourself, but I guess the sun wouldn’t see it, either.” He hums. ”You bring light and warmth to where there used to be none, and help things bloom just by being present.”
There’s a moment of absolute silence, then Sizhui asks slowly, ”Zizhen, are you still drunk?”
”Nope.” Terribly hungover, yes, but not drunk. ”You think you’re just a humble disciple when there’s nothing humble about you, and you make everyone feel better just by being you. Sometimes I worry about you, though.”
”Why?” Sizhui asks hesitantly.
Zizhen turns to look at him again, squinting against the bright light. ”The position you’re in is a lot but that’s not what worries me. It’s where you come from.” He frowns, trying to find the correct way to say what he wants to say and then decides to just say it because his head feels like, aiyah, fine, a barrel full of sopping wet wool. ”I worry that you’re too busy being the perfect heir and the perfect disciple to remember that you’re allowed to be angry about the terrible reason why you ended up where you are.”
An errant breeze moves the curtains in front of the sun, revealing Sizhui’s wide, startled eyes. He opens his mouth, then closes it, and ducks his head to stare at his lap.
Zizhen suddenly feels like the worst of friends. ”I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have said anyth—”
”Thank you,” Sizhui whispers.
Zizhen’s mouth snaps closed.
”Sometimes—” Sizhui starts, then pauses to swallow. ”Sometimes I think I don’t have the right,” he says and immediately looks stricken, like he’s expecting someone to reprimand him.
Zizhen scoffs. ”Of course you have! You’re the last living member of your family and that’s partially because of the sect that now claims you as their first disciple. It’s fucked up.”
A startled laughter bursts out of Sizhui. ”Zizhen!” he gasps. ”Language!”
”I’m too hungover to care about language,” he mutters, closing his eyes. ”Besides, if Sect Leader Jiang can swear, so can I.”
”I’m not sure you should use him as your example.”
”Why the fuck not? Sect Leader Jiang is a powerful cultivator, an excellent sect leader, and a very good uncle. I might just follow in his footsteps when I take over Baling Ouyang.”
”Please, don’t, you’ll give your father a conniption,” Sizhui says with an audible grin.
”It might do him good. Get his blood flowing and shake him up a bit,” Zizhen mutters and nudges Sizhui lightly. ”You good?”
Sizhui lets out a long breath. ”Yes. Thank you.” Then he adds, amused, ”But you, my friend, need a nap.” He stands up and grabs Zizhen by the elbow, unceremoniously heaving him up.
Zizhen doesn’t protest. A nap sounds very good right now.