Qin Su knows she’s going to die in these woods. If she’s lucky, death will be the only thing to happen. If she’s unlucky…well. Then she’d wish she was dead.
The small number of guards his father had appointed to escort her from Laoling to Lanling had been slaughtered by a party of Wen who’d laid ambush by the road. They fought as hard as they could to protect her but the Wen had seemed almost rabid, tearing into the Qin cultivators with a glee that turned Qin Su’s stomach. Her poor guards managed to give her enough time to try to flee, though, and she did—still does, sprinting through the dense forest as fast as she’s able. But Qin Su is not a cultivator. Her golden core is a humble thing, more inclined to healing than fighting, and even the panicky base instinct to flee isn’t enough to make it spin beyond its limits.
Therefore, she knows she’s going to die.
Her shoes are meant for clean streets and paved paths, and they slip and slide on the uneven terrain. She lets out a gasp of pain when she loses her balance and goes down hard, banging her right shin on a jagged root and scraping her hand on the rough bark of the tree she tried to grasp. Blood swells from myriad small wounds in bright red pearls and she stares at her palm, feeling completely lost for a moment. The harsh yells from behind her jerk her from her thoughts and she scrambles up, takes a step—
A white-hot flash of pain shoots up her right leg, momentarily plunging her world into a sea of throbbing hurt. She stumbles onto her knees and hits her left cheek on something sharp—a stone or a splintered branch or, or, she doesn’t know—and that just adds to her misery. She whimpers, eyes blurry with tears of pain and frustration as she hovers her foot above the ground, torn between the pain and her need to run.
”Come on!” someone shouts. ”She went that way!”
”No, please,” she whispers and forces herself to move.
It’s agony, pure and simple. Even with her hazy vision, she can see that her leg is wrong, the ankle twisted and her shin swelling rapidly. And yet, she limps forward because she can’t not keep going, she can’t just lie still and resign herself to her fate because—
She swallows back tears. She doesn’t want to think about that.
A slight rustling ahead stops her short, freezing her mid-step, terrified that the Wen are closing in on her from multiple directions, surrounding her like an animal. Her hand flies to her hip where her small knife rests—it’s not much but it should be enough to slit her throat at least, making the end quicker.
She whirls around when someone steps out from the shade of trees behind her. ”Did you think you could outrun us, girl?” a Wen soldier asks, eyes narrowed and mouth stretched into an obscene leer as she tries to back away. ”Don’t bothe—What the fuck?” His eyes blow comically wide at the same time as Qin Su backs into something solid, unyielding.
Slowly, with a sick sense of dread licking at the back of her throat, she turns.
A hulking man in blood-splattered robes stands behind her, eyes burning with fury in a face caked in mud, and a wide snarl with too many sharp teeth slashed across his face.
”No, wait—!” the Wen cultivator yelps but the sound cuts short, turning into a gurgling sound as the man sends his weapon hurtling across the small clearing. It comes back into his hand with a wet smack and he lowers it slowly, finally turning his gaze down to Qin Su.
That’s when she passes out.
She wakes up on her back in a somewhat uncomfortable cot, covered with a blanket that smells of horses and sweat. She’s warm and while she’s still in pain, it’s muted.
A short distance away, a deep male voice says dryly, ”—and even though Huaisang says I’m as dense as a brick, even I know better than to search for sect insignia on an unconscious woman.”
A pause.
”Ah, she’s awake.”
Steps approach, soft and sure, and stop next to her.
”Miss, you are safe. The men pursuing you are dead.”
She takes a breath and opens her eyes to the dim interior of a tent. Her face feels strange, hot and swollen and she can’t quite see with her left eye. She brings her fingers to her face and flinches when she touches rough, painful, sticky something.
”Careful—” the man says and she turns slowly, tries to focus her eyes on him. He’s tall and muscular, clad in steel grey and muted green robes, a wide saber on his back. Behind him, another man in similar robes stands with his hands clasped loosely in front of him.
”The Nie?” she whispers.
The man next to her inclines his head. ”Very observant, Miss. I am Nie Mingjue, Sect Leader Nie. This is Nie Zonghui, my head disciple. May I ask, who are you and what were you doing in the woods all alone?”
Feeling self-conscious, Qin Su tries to sit up and gasps when the movement triggers a flash of pain in her leg. Sect Leader Nie’s hands twitch minutely but he doesn’t reach for her. She concentrates on her breathing and carefully relaxes her muscles and gradually, the pain recedes.
”I’m sorry,” Sect Leader Nie says ruefully. ”We have healers with us but they specialize more in effectiveness than appearances. Your hand should be fine but your shin will scar.” He takes a breath. ”Unfortunately, your cheek…” his voice trails away into awkward silence.
”Considering the alternative, I’m perfectly fine with scarring,” she says, feeling slightly dizzy. ”But how…?”
”We were hunting stray Wen,” Sect Leader Nie says. ”They scattered after I killed Wen Xu.” Then he makes a face and adds, a bit sheepish, ”My apologies, you probably don’t care about that.”
”Why do you think that?” Qin Su asks. ”Because I’m a woman? Because my cultivation level is low?”
”I—” Sect Leader Nie glances at Nie Zonghui who merely raises a brow.
”No one tells me anything,” Qin Su continues, feeling floaty. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a shrilly, disbelieving voice asks what on earth she thinks she’s doing, she should be quiet, why is she interrupting a Sect Leader? She ignores it. ”Father wanted to send me to Lanling to be safe but—” she shudders, thinking back on all the leering faces and stray touches she had to endure during her last visit the previous summer. ”I’d choose this over Lanling any day.” She looks up at Sect Leader Nie who’s staring at her, bemused. ”Did you carry me here, Sect Leader Nie?”
”Yes?” He looks sheepish all of a sudden. It makes him less scary.
”Then I thank you, Sect Leader Nie. Laoling Qin is in your debt.”
”Laoling Qin—” Sect Leader Nie echoes.
The tent flap opens and a short man of delicate stature steps in and bows. ”Reporting in, Sect Leader—oh.” He stops mid-bow when he sees her, blinks a couple of times, and then gives her a small, dimpled smile. ”I heard Sect Leader saved a young woman in the woods. I’m glad to see you awake, Miss Qin. This one is Meng Yao.” He bows again.
”Meng Yao is my deputy and knows everything that happens in the camps or on the front or, well, anywhere,” Sect Leader Nie says. ”If you need anything before we can organize your journey to Lanling, ask him.”
Meng Yao looks sharply at him at the mention of Lanling.
”I’m not going anywhere,” Qin Su says flatly. ”I already told you I’d rather stay here.”
Sect Leader Nie frowns. ”This is a war front, Miss Qin. This is not a place for a lady.”
”And my father sent me on a journey that would’ve ended with me being raped to death, if not for your fortunate timing,” she counters. ”I’m not a soldier but I have training in healing arts. I would like to help.”
Sect Leader Nie gives both Nie Zonghui and Meng Yao a slightly helpless look. The former merely shrugs but Meng Yao tilts his head, giving her a considering look. ”The healers are always in need of more people to help. Your injury prevents you from going to the field but when you’re feeling better, there’s a lot to do in the camp as well.”
”Excellent!” Qin Su says. ”Then it’s settled.”
”It is?” Sect Leader Nie mutters, then shakes his head like he has something more important to think about. Which is probably true, considering this is war and he’s Sect Leader Nie.
Meng Yao is right; there’s a lot to do in the camp and healing tents. They discover she has a head for numbers and the struggling field healers soon turn all the stock-keeping books over to her. It keeps her from her feet (and out of the way, she reckons) and helps them to get a better overall picture of how much bandages, poultices, painkillers, brews, and other medical things they spend and how much they need. Meng Yao is visibly relieved to have some of the responsibility off his shoulders and after observing her work for a week, he nods, satisfied, and leaves her to it.
Qin Su likes to feel useful. She likes seeing that what she does makes a difference and it keeps her from thinking too much about what comes after. For now, this is where she wants to be and that’s enough for her. (She still hasn’t looked at herself in the mirror properly. She will, though. Soon. Any day now. In the meantime, she can twist her hair into a simple bun without the help of a mirror and the war front has no use for makeup, so it’s not like she needs a mirror.)
Sect Leader Nie is up from dawn til dusk, always either spearheading an attack, planning an attack, or going over reports of an attack. He doesn’t seek her out but she sees him almost daily anyway as he visits his injured men and helps out at the campsite. He seems tired, and after two weeks, she starts brewing him restorative tea in the evenings.
She wonders how many pots she can brew before he asks what she’s actually making him drink.
”Have you heard from your parents?” he asks gruffly one day. He’s been poring over maps with Nie Zonghui and Meng Yao and the frown on his forehead belies his frustration.
”I got a letter yesterday,” she says. ”They weren’t pleased but agreed that this probably is the safest place for me right now.” She smiles. ”They said that the Nie sect is renowned for their honesty and straightforwardness and Sect Leader Nie is an honorable man.”
Sect Leader Nie scowls. ”Anyone is honorable compared to the Wen dogs,” he mutters.
She doesn’t comment, merely pours him another cup of tea.
In truth, ’not pleased’ is a gross understatement. She’d sent them a letter, informing them about the attack and her injury and about her decision to stay and help. The reply had been four pages long; three pages from her mother and one from her father, and filled with reprimands of her stubbornness, fear for her safety and virtue, and—of all things—that her hands would chafe.
”Do you have siblings, Miss Qin?” Meng Yao asks.
She’s pretty sure he knows (because Meng Yao seems to know and remember everything) but she’s grateful for the subtle change of topic. ”No,” she says, shaking her head. ”I am the only child and I know that only adds to their worry. How about you, Young Master Meng?”
His smile turns wooden. ”I’m sure you don’t need to ask that,” he demurs. ”After all, Laoling Qin has close relations with Lanling Jin.”
She frowns. ”What does Lanling Jin have to do with it?” she asks, genuinely confused.
Meng Yao’s eyes narrow slightly and then he ducks his head. ”Please, excuse me, I have a thing I need to take care of,” he says, bows, and walks out with his back stiff.
”Oh no,” Qin Su whispers. ”I offended him. I didn’t mean to—”
Sect Leader Nie glances at Nie Zonghui. ”You really don’t know, Miss Qin?” he asks. When she shakes her head, he sighs and says, ”He’s one of Jin Guangshan’s bastards. His mother was a…” he hesitates. ”Anyway. I don’t care about his background,” he adds. ”I appreciate his skills and dedication. He’s the best deputy a sect leader might wish for.”
Oh.
That explains several things Qin Su has heard and seen over her time in the camp.
”You might not care but others might not be so accommodating,” she says quietly.
”What others?” Sect Leader Nie asks.
Qin Su glances at Nie Zonghui whose face is completely blank. ”I know I haven’t been here for long,” she says, ”but I have already heard how people talk about him behind his back and sneer at his work.”
Sect Leader Nie frowns. ”I’ve told Meng Yao to let me know if anyone gives him any grief or treats him badly. He hasn’t said anything.”
Qin Su bites her lip. ”But…would he say? Even if there was something?”
”Why wouldn’t he?”
She ducks her head. ”Of course. My apologies.”
Sect Leader Nie gives her a long look before turning back to his papers.
Qin Su leaves the tent with a heavy mind.
”I didn’t mean to cause you any pain or embarrassment,” she says quietly a couple of days later when she finally manages to corner Meng Yao—as in Meng Yao needed numbers from her and had no other option but to see her after staying very much out of her reach since their last conversation.
”It’s perfectly fine, Miss Qin,” Meng Yao says. He’s wearing a smile that’s just slightly too bland to be real.
”No, it’s not,” she snaps, setting her hand firmly on the ledger books spread on the table. ”I like you, Meng Yao. I’ve never had a brother or even a cousin about the same age as I, but if I could have a brother, I’d like him to be like you.” Meng Yao is staring at her with wide eyes. ”I don’t care about your background. You are a smart, kind man, hardworking and humble; Sect Leader Nie is fortunate to have you as his deputy!”
”Thank you, Miss Qin,” Meng Yao says slowly.
”And I’m sorry about your…uh, father. He seems like a deeply unpleasant man.” In fact, Sect Leader Jin was one of the men who touched her inappropriately the last time she was in Jinlintai. If she can help it, she’ll never visit that place again.
Meng Yao freezes. ”I couldn’t say—”
Qin Su barrels over him. ”My father would like to cultivate closer ties to Lanling but my mother is against it.”
”Is that why you were on your way to Jinlintai?”
She nods. ”I didn’t want to go,” she admits quietly. ”I meant it when I told Sect Leader Nie that I’d rather stay here.”
Meng Yao looks genuinely curious. ”Why would you make that choice?”
”I don’t like the people in Jinlintai,” she says curtly.
”Mn,” Meng Yao says and adds after a moment, ”My wish is to one day present myself to my father and redeem myself in his eyes.”
She gives him a baffled look. ”If you don’t mind my asking…?” Qin Su says hesitantly. At Meng Yao’s nod, she continues, ”Why do you want to go? Why not stay with Sect Leader Nie?”
His eyes take a faraway look. ”It was my mother’s wish. And I wouldn’t want to cause trouble for Sect Leader Nie.”
”What trouble?” Qin Su asks, confused.
Meng Yao opens his mouth, then closes it with a shadow of a smile. She can see the way he gathers his unflappability around himself like armor, the way he finally meets her eyes, the way he asks, ”If that was all, Miss Qin, I’ll be on my way.”
When he’s almost out of the tent, Qin Su calls softly after him. ”You should tell him they keep harassing you.”
Meng Yao’s shoulders stiffen slightly but he doesn’t turn around. ”Good day, Miss Qin,” he says and leaves the tent.
For quite a while, Qin Su stares at the tent flap with a small frown on her face.
The reality of the war is that people get hurt. Even people who seem untouchable.
Even Sect Leader Nie.
Qin Su is in the healers’ tent when he barges in, covered in blood, carrying an unconscious Nie Zonghui over his shoulder. Her knees go weak when she takes in the amount of blood, the way he sways on his feet, the way his hands shake as he lowers Nie Zonghui on a stretcher, and how his left arm goes limp as soon as he straightens up. He seems to sag when the healers rush his head disciple away, and that prompts Qin Su to move.
”Sect Leader Nie!” she gasps, hurrying to his side, hands hovering over his blood-covered robes.
”It’s not mine,” he protests. She gives him an incredulous look and he corrects, sheepishly, ”It’s mostly not mine?”
”Sit down,” she says and points at a low stool next to her desk.
”There’s no need to—”
She whirls around, suddenly furious beyond reason. ”Nie Mingjue,” she says sharply. ”Sit. Down.”
Eyes slightly wide, he sits down and watches her gather sponges, bandages, clean water, poultices…whatever she thinks she’ll need to treat him.
”I’m fine,” he offers hesitantly.
”You are not,” she snaps, mixing together a careful selection of herbs. ”Robes off.”
For a split moment, she thinks he’ll get up and leave but then he sighs and starts to slowly peel off his clothes. She concentrates on her preparations and tries to steel herself for what she’ll see when she turns around.
A sluggishly bleeding wound yawns over his chest, from his left shoulder to his sternum. He hisses when she carefully presses a wet sponge on it and she almost, almost, snaps at him about being fine. She doesn’t—instead, she concentrates on getting the clogged blood and impurities off. The wound is angry red and uneven and it doesn’t look at all like a sword wound.
”What caused this?” she whispers.
”An arrow,” he says, staying carefully sill. ”The Wen-dog held it like a dagger.”
She nods, wipes the last drops of blood off his skin, and sets the bloodied sponge and rags aside. She can feel his gaze on her as she picks up the poultice and stirs it to check the consistency. It’s slightly on the runny side but it will work anyway as the bandages will hold it in place. She spreads it carefully, resolutely ignoring the way Sect Leader Nie’s chest expands as he breathes and how his skin grows goosebumps under her fingers.
She wants to trail her fingers along his skin and watch the goosebumps chase her touch.
She wants to press her palm on his broad chest and feel the heart that beats inside.
She wants to—
”This isn’t what our healers usually use,” Sect Leader Nie comments, looking at the poultice with a faint frown.
”It’s one of my own blends,” she says, perhaps shaper than necessary. ”It’ll work just as fine.”
He blinks. ”I’m sure it will, Miss Qin,” he says slowly.
It feels strange. The tent is busy around them with soldiers moving around and the constant noise of wounded men and restless animals but it’s like there’s a small bubble of quiet just for them. She doesn’t want to think about it closer but as she spreads the poultice and then rolls the bandages in place, she becomes increasingly more aware of it. Of herself, and of her hands on him.
”You should be more careful,” she says quietly.
He sighs. ”We are at war, Miss Qin,” he reminds her gently. ”People get hurt, and people die.”
Her hands spasm. ”If something happened to you—” she whispers. ”What would we do?” She swallows and without really thinking about it, blurts out a desperate, ”What would I do?”
She realizes her error immediately, stumbles back, away from him, away from his confused look, away from the frown, away—
She turns and flees the tent, heedless of his voice calling after her.
Meng Yao finds her at the edge of the camp, staring with unseeing eyes at the sunset, hugging her arms around herself. He doesn’t say anything, merely stops to stand beside her.
”He must think I’m foolish,” she whispers after a long stretch of shared silence.
Meng Yao doesn’t ask who she’s talking about, merely hums quietly, gazing into the sunset.
”I wanted to kiss him,” she confesses, almost inaudible in the dim evening.
”Ah,” Meng Yao says. ”Understandable.” His voice is faintly amused and she flushes, embarrassed.
”Forget I said anything,” she says at the same time as he asks, ”Why didn’t you?”
”I—what?”
Meng Yao turns to face her and tilts his head. ”Why didn’t you?” he repeats.
Qin Su ducks her head and shies away from his gaze.
For a short moment, he merely watches her, figuring her out. ”Miss Qin,” he finally says. ”There’s something you should know about the Nie. The Nie are blunt and straightforward people with little to no patience for political games, and Sect Leader Nie embodies his sect in this aspect to his full abilities. Sect Leader Nie has lived most of his life fighting, either in continuous skirmishes and border violations, or now a full-out war.”
”I don’t—” She clears her throat. ”What are you saying?”
”I’m saying that perhaps you should tell him what you want,” he says wryly. ”Sect Leader Nie is in many ways a formidable man but he isn’t good at subtlety.”
It makes her huff a wet laugh. ”He doesn’t have to be,” she says. ”He has you for that.”
Meng Yao offers token platitudes and demure denials, politely pretending to not see her wipe her eyes and pat her wet cheeks dry.
A moment later, Meng Yao lets out a breath. ”We should head back. It’s getting late.”
They talk about easy things on their way back, about logistics and ledgers, and by the time they reach the tents, she feels normal. As Meng Yao stops and bows to be on his way, she stops him mid-bow.
”Thank you so much, Young Master Meng,” she says, pitching her voice so that it carries. ”The work you do at the camp is priceless and we are so very fortunate to have you here.”
His quirked brow tells her he knows exactly what she’s doing. ”There’s no need to thank me, Miss Qin. I’m just doing my job.” His eyes flicker to something—or someone—behind her and with a last, pointed look at her, he bows and bids her good night.
She turns and meets Sect Leader Nie’s gaze from across the clearing. For a fleeting moment, she has a sudden urge to flee but she smothers it, straightens her back, and with a smile, nods at him.
Meng Yao leaves to pursue an opportunity with the Jin, carrying Sect Leader Nie’s recommendation letter, and Qin Su misses him dearly. She’s grown fond of Meng Yao and hopes that under his carefully maintained armor of polite smiles, he knows that.
The war trudges on.
Qin Su loses herself in the monotony of her work—no matter where they are and how many people the camps house, the layout is the same, as are the healers’ tents. She keeps the books, helps wounded soldiers, and holds the hands of dying men. Somehow, she isn’t surprised when she realizes that she tends to gravitate towards those who are beyond help; she listens to them, cups their cheeks, sings to them. They still die and they often die in pain but she finds strength and consolation that she can bring a moment of peace into their last moments.
”You don’t have to do that,” Sect Leader Nie tells her one day after one more man died holding her hand.
She gives him a level look. ”I know that, Sect Leader Nie,” she says.
He scowls, opens his mouth, then closes it again. ”I didn’t mean to criticize, Miss Qin,” he finally says, pausing for a moment to consider his words. ”I only meant that your help—your presence here—is important and valuable. Holding vigil by a dying soldier can be hard even for a seasoned soldier. Don’t overdo it.”
He sounds earnest and Qin Su realizes suddenly that perhaps Sect Leader Nie isn’t as much angry all the time as he is awkward in situations he’d usually trust either his brother or Meng Yao to handle.
”Thank you for your concern, Sect Leader Nie,” she says and smiles.
A couple of days later, a young soldier who looks like a child dies screaming for his mama. Qin Su sings to him through her tears until her voice gives out, and when he finally grows silent, she falls into exhausted sleep right there, too tired to let go of his cooling hand. She barely notices when she’s gently gathered into strong arms and a deep voice softly rumbles, ”Sleep, little sparrow. You’ve done enough for the day.”
She wakes up later curled up in a somewhat uncomfortable cot, warm and snug under a blanket that smells of horses and sweat. The tent is dim but she doesn’t need the light to realize she’s not alone—the snoring coming from the ground level is more than enough to give it away.
Before she slips out of the tent, she covers Sect Leader Nie with the blanket and allows herself to brush her fingers along the intricate braids in his hair.
The war is won.
Eventually.
It has something to do with Wei Wuxian and demonic cultivation and a spy in the Wen ranks, but she doesn’t really pay attention to that because in his impatience to create a diversion, Sect Leader Nie got himself captured. Qin Su doesn’t know the details but after Wen Ruohan was finally killed, Sect Leader Nie was left injured and dangerously close to qi deviation. Apparently Meng Yao had been there and, well, that’s confusing because the last time they spoke, he’d been determined to join the Jin. Qin Su doesn’t understand but she also doesn’t have the energy to think about that because Sect Leader Nie is hurt and—
Qin Su aches to be with him but she knows she can’t because—
Because the war is over.
And she has no reason to be with the Nie anymore.
The thought leaves him breathless and terrified, yearning for something she isn’t quite brave enough to think more closely.
Mother and Father arrive with the rest of the sects, gawking at the Nightless City and visibly relieved to find Qin Su relatively unharmed. She greets them with a smile and tries not to feel hurt when her mother flinches at the sight of her face.
”A-Su…your face…” her mother stammers, reaching out a hand and snatching it back before she actually touches her cheek.
”My face was a small price to pay for my safety, Mother,” she says calmly. She’s made peace with her scars. If nothing else, she’s too ugly to be sent to Lanling now.
”You’re so thin,” her father frets. ”Are you sure you are alright?”
She gives him a kiss on the cheek. ”Yes, Father, I am alright. It might sound strange to you but I enjoyed my time with the Nie, war or not—”
She stops as her mother’s face goes slightly wooden as Meng Yao approaches.
”Sect Leader Qin, Madam Qin,” he says and bows. ”I’m happy to see you in good health. You must be so proud of your daughter.”
”Yes. Quite,” her mother says coolly. Father says nothing.
Meng Yao’s smile doesn’t waver. ”Miss Qin, I came to inform you that Sect Leader Nie is stable and resting. Zewu-jun is with him now.” He goes to bow again but Qin Su stops him.
”Thank you, Meng Yao,” she says warmly. ”Will I see you later when I come to collect my things?”
”Ah. I might not be there,” he says. His eyes dart somewhere behind her and he adds, ”I have an audience with my father.”
Oh.
She fixes a smile on her face. ”Be careful, Meng Yao. I would not like to see you hurt. And remember that you have a place with the Nie.”
He bows and, this time, she doesn’t stop him.
”You…spent time with that man?” her mother asks.
”Yes,” Qin Su says calmly. ”His background is not his fault. He’s a kind, hardworking man who doesn’t get enough recognition for his work. I consider him a dear friend and a brother.” She isn’t sure why that makes Mother turn grey but she lifts her chin up, defiant. She refuses to feel shame about their friendship as she feels she has nothing to be ashamed of.
Father clears his throat. ”Why did he come to tell you about Nie Mingjue?” he asks.
Oh. Oh no. Qin Su feels heat rise on her cheeks. ”Because he knew I’d be worried,” she says. ”Anyway, you must be tired from your journey here. Let me show you to your quarters.”
As she leads her parents away, Qin Su can feel Mother’s eyes on the back of her head.
Luckily, there’s at least as much to do after the war as there was during it, which helps her to avoid thinking about the future. Qin Su busies herself with gathering and organizing as many medical texts as she’s able. Meng Yao knew she’d be interested in them so he’d made her exhaustive lists of where to find and what but it still took a lot of time to round them up. She manages to snatch several journals that deal with demonic cultivation and qi deviation (apparently Wen Ruohan was having a lot of difficulties with both) because they might come in handy at some point. At least they should be kept away from people who might use them for something nefarious. And by people, she means the Jin.
She already dreads the day she has to return to Laoling.
The Jin orchestrate a grand gathering for the heroes of the Sunshot Campaign, somehow trying to take credit for the win even though no Jin was near enough the fighting to actually risk their life. It makes Qin Su sick to her stomach. It’s just as terrible as something organized by the Jin can be, even with Meng Yao’s attempts to make it less so. It’s over-the-top, gaudy, and borderline disrespectful, and she very much loathes to attend.
The only reason she’s there is—
”Da-ge! Da-ge! She’s here!” someone calls, enthusiastic.
A huff, then a familiar voice says, ”Yes, Huaisang, I have eyes.”
Yes. That.
Qin Su can’t quite stifle her smile as she turns to meet Sect Leader Nie and his little brother who is, apparently, very eager to meet her.
”Sect Leader Qin, Madam Qin,” Sect Leader Nie greets and bows—lower than he as the leader of one of the big fiv—no, big four now—actually would need to, Qin Su realizes with a start. Next to him, Nie Huaisang’s flailing bow is performative and, she has to admit, very amusing.
”Sect Leader Nie, Young Master Nie,” her father greets back. ”Please allow me to express our gratitude for keeping our daughter safe during the war.”
”The gratitude is all on us,” Sect Leader Nie says eagerly. ”Miss Qin has been invaluable; she’s hardworking and smart, and she has the strength of a soldier with the heart of a mother. Her gifts and skills bring honor and pride to her parents.” He bows again, making Mother and Father slightly pink with pleasure.
”You flatter me, Sect Leader Nie,” Qin Su chides.
”I have been told I lack the imagination needed for flattery,” Sect Leader Nie deadpans, drawing a giggle from Qin Su.
Next to Sect Leader Nie, his little brother’s eyes go wide behind his fan, and his sharp gaze darts between her and Sect Leader Nie. ”I’m so glad to finally meet you, Miss Qin!” Nie Huaisang gushes. ”Da-ge has told me so much about you that for a moment I wasn’t sure if you were real!”
”Huaisang!” Sect Leader Nie groans.
”I can assure you, I am very much real,” Qin Su says, with a wry smile.
”Da-ge, we absolutely have to invite Miss Qin to visit Qinghe!” Nie Huaisang exclaims, fanning himself with something akin to fervor. ”If she was cooped up at the camp this whole time, her perception of the Nie is skewered.”
Sect Leader Nie sighs. ”Huaisang—”
Nie Huaisang ignores him and steps closer to her. ”Would you like to visit the Unclean Realm, Miss Qin?”
”I would love to,” she replies immediately, only shooting a glance at Father after she’s already said yes. Father looks slightly conflicted and Mother’s expression is completely unreadable.
”Then it’s settled!” Nie Huaisang says, bouncing on his feet like a small child.
”Ah,” her father says. ”I think we need to…” He gestures vaguely forward and after another round of bows, Father and Mother take their leave.
As she turns to follow her parents, Qin Su hears behind her a hissed, ”Huaisang, what are you scheming now?” and an affronted, ”I’m not scheming anything—I’m strategizing, da-ge. It’s completely different!”
After the banquet—tedious, pompous, needlessly long with needless posturing and overly long speeches—she steels her mind and asks her parents’ permission to go to Qinghe.
”Why are you in so much hurry to travel there?” her father asks sourly. ”Why can’t you just go to Lanling?”
”Because I don’t want to go to Lanling,” she says. When Father opens his mouth to protest, she asks, ”Why are you so against me going to Qinghe? Have you made arrangements I should know about?”
Father blinks, glances at Mother, and says, ”Ah, no, but—”
”I’ll be safe in Qinghe,” she barrels over him. ”If that’s what worries you.”
Father frowns. ”You’ll be safe in Jinlintai, too.”
Qin Su closes her eyes and shakes her head. ”No, Father,” she says softly. ”I’m not safe in Jinlintai. I haven’t been.”
Mother lets out a broken, pained sound and lurches forward to grip her hand. ”When?” she whispers, face ashen. ”The last time?”
She nods. ”I’m fine, Mother. Nothing happened.”
”Who—” Father asks, looking close to fainting. ”Why didn’t you—A-Su!”
She gives him a pitying look—a very strange concept because this is her father, after all. ”He isn’t a man one could say no to,” she says tonelessly.
”No,” Father chokes out. ”No, not you—”
Mother ignores him. ”A-Su, are you sure you want to go to Qinghe?” she asks, looking her straight in the eye with an intensity she’s never seen from her before.
She gives her a slightly tremulous smile. ”Yes, Mother. I really, really am.”
”Cangye,” Mother says. ”If Sect Leader Nie is willing, A-Su and I will accompany him and Young Master Nie to the Unclean Realm.”
”Yazhu—” Father starts and then deflates. ”Yes. I will talk with him first thing in the morning.”
”Thank you,” Qin Su whispers.
Later that evening, when she’s getting ready for bed, Mother comes to see her. Without a word, she steps behind Qin Su and starts taking her hair down, combing each section with care until it shines softly in the candlelight.
”Has he—Sect Leader Nie, I mean—ever behaved improperly toward you?”
”No, Mother.”
She’s silent for a moment, combing her hair.
”And have you ever behaved improperly towards him?” When Qin Su doesn’t reply, she taps the comb on top of her head once. ”A-Su!”
”I treated his wound once,” she whispers, closing her eyes, to both avoid looking at Mother in the eye and remember the moment better. ”It was on his chest. I wanted to—” She swallows. ”I wanted to kiss him so very much, Mother.”
She lets out a breath. ”But you didn’t.” It’s not a question.
Qin Su shakes her head. She doesn’t tell her about the time when she brushed her fingers along Sect Leader Nie’s braid.
Mother nods. ”Good.” She finishes brushing her hair and presses her hands gently on Qin Su’s shoulders, meeting her eyes in the mirror. ”Qinghe is not a place I ever imagined you to end up in but if that’s what you want, well.” She lifts a finger to trace the scar on her left cheek.
Qin Su lifts her chin in defiance, daring Mother to say something about the scar. She knows it changes her appearance—it draws the left corner of her mouth slightly up into a small smirk—but she’s found she likes it. It fits her—the new her, the one who wants to go to Qinghe.
But Mother says nothing, merely sighs, and presses a kiss on top of her head before bidding her goodnight.
Qinghe is an austere, solemn place and at first sight, the Unclean Realm feels almost forbidding. The fortress stands nestled within steep cliffs on three sides with a wide open plateau in front of its gates; very different from Laoling and Jinlintai. It’s practical and defendable, concepts she’s learned to appreciate during the war.
”I’m so glad to be home!” Nie Huaisang says, drawing the curtain aside with his fan. He’s been traveling in the carriage with Qin Su and her mother, chattering easily most of the way. Sect Leader Nie has been riding either in the front or next to the carriage. Qin Su wishes she could’ve ridden with him.
When the carriage draws to a stop in a courtyard, Nie Huaisang is the first one to jump out of the way, and then Sect Leader Nie holds out a hand for Qin Su. She feels ridiculously self-conscious taking it and ducks her head.
”Welcome to Qinghe, Miss Qin,” Sect Leader Nie says softly before turning to help her mother.
He leads them into the receiving hall where a light, informal supper is waiting, and after, he shows them around. It’s clear that the Unclean Realm has been built with war in mind but Qin Su likes the simplicity and practicality of it. It’s easy and logical.
”If you want to know more about the library or either of you is in need of any supplies, let Huaisang know,” Sect Leader Nie says. ”He might as well make himself useful being your guide.”
”Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang wails.
”Or you could practice with your saber.”
Nie Huaisang draws a breath and snaps his fan open. ”I will be your most diligent guide during your stay, Madam Qin, Miss Qin.”
Sect Leader Nie rolls his eyes.
”I like the way he treats his little brother,” Mother says that night.
Qin Su smiles. ”He used to complain about him a lot but it has always been clear to me that they care about each other a great deal.” She pauses. ”They’re both orphans and Sect Leader Nie has taken care of him almost for his whole life.”
Mother lets out a noncommittal sound. ”Of course, there’s a lot that needs to be done here,” she says. ”The decor is way too bland. Just because this is a fortress doesn’t mean you should live like a soldier.”
Qin Su stifles a smile. ”Yes, Mother,” she says and doesn’t bother pointing out that before she starts to redecorate, she probably should be at least betrothed.
She hopes it happens soon—not because she wants to redecorate but because she has a feeling this place could very well be her home.
It’s been two weeks and Qin Su can’t bear to think about leaving. Her life has fallen into place like a puzzle finally finished and for the first time in years, she feels like she belongs.
In the evenings, she often likes to climb to the wall and just look around at the rugged wilderness stretching around them. She is in no way surprised when one evening Sect Leader Nie walks quietly up to her and stops beside her.
”How have you liked your visit so far?” he asks after a beat of silence.
”A lot,” she says and then braces herself. ”So much so that it doesn’t feel like a visit.” She turns to face him.
”Oh?” he asks, looking at her from the corner of his eye.
”No. It feels like home.”
He swallows and ducks his head. On his sides, his hands clench and unclench a couple of times. ”Are you sure?” he asks in an almost whisper.
”Yes,” she says.
He turns then and takes her hands in his. They’re big and warm, calloused from years of saber-wielding. Strong hands. Protective hands.
”Miss Qin,” Sect Leader Nie starts. He frowns, shakes his head, and sighs. ”I’m not one with a way of words,” he says slowly. ”I don’t have speeches or poems prepared for you. I don’t know how to do any of that. All I can do is offer this—” he looks around, ”—my home. My heart. Myself. If you would have them.” He looks painfully earnest if apprehensive of her reply. As if there ever was any doubt of her answer.
Her smile is so wide it pulls at the scar on her cheek. ”I don’t want speeches or poems,” she says. ”I want honesty and safety and trust and a home. And that’s you. So yes, Sect Leader Nie. I would have you.”
He closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. ”If—would you do me the honor of calling me by my name?” he asks.
”Only if you do the same, Mingjue,” she whispers.
He pulls her into his embrace then and murmurs ”Qin Su…A-Su,” into her hair before releasing her—but only to lean down to press their foreheads together.
She suddenly realizes that if she wants a kiss, she’ll have to take it because Sect Lea—Mingjue would not. So she rises to her toes and stretches up to press their lips together. It’s chaste and fleeting and she barely has the chance to register how his mustache tickles before she hears Mother clear her throat.
Mingjue takes a hasty step back and turns to face Mother. ”Madam Qin,” he says and bows. ”My apologies for—”
”Oh, I heard you,” Mother interrupts. She walks up to them and gives Mingjue a long, assessing look. ”If A-Su is to become your wife, can you promise to be faithful? Can you promise she’ll be safe here?”
”Yes,” Mingjue says, and then he narrows his eyes. ”Why? Is there a reason why she wouldn’t be safe here?” When her mother says nothing, he glances at Qin Su. ”Back when I saved you…” He pauses and continues slowly, ”You didn’t want to go to Lanling in the first place. Something happened.”
Qin Su shakes her head. ”It doesn’t matter.”
”Of course it matters,” he says in a low, dangerous voice that sends a shiver down her spine. ”If someone hurt you, I’ll kill them.”
Qin Su clicks her tongue. ”You will do no such thing,” she snaps. ”Do you hear me, Mingjue?” He gives her a mulish look and she reaches up to tap her finger on his nose. It makes him go cross-eyed but it also serves to ease the tension and he huffs, snatching her hand in his. He gives it a gentle squeeze and lets her go.
”Hm,” Mother says. ”I will inform your father, A-Su. Sect Leader Nie, you have our permission to court our daughter.” She gives them both a stern look. ”From now on, you will not meet without a chaperone. Don’t think I didn’t see what you did, A-Su.”
She giggles and, feeling suddenly adventurous and brave, she darts close to Mingjue and kisses his cheek. Mother lets out an exasperated sigh but Qin Su cherishes the soft look in Mingjue’s eyes for the rest of the evening.
The news of their courting isn’t news to anyone, it seems. The Nie know what she did during the war and they accept their Sect Leader’s choice with their usual, no-nonsense stoic manner, offering solemn nods and sincere and heartfelt congratulations. The only exception is Nie Huaisang who lets out a happy squeak and then dives into the wedding planning with an intensity that makes her mother take a startled step back.
Qin Su leaves them to it. She has little interest in the planning as it is the result that matters to her the most; she trusts Mother and Huaisang to plan a wedding fitting for their statuses. Instead, she dedicates her time to learning everything she needs for her new role as Madam Nie. It’s been almost two decades since the Nie last had a Madam and the elderly steward, Nie Gang, is visibly relieved to have Qin Su to take up the role. He walks her through the whole fortress several times, piles maps and ledgers and abacuses on a desk dedicated to her, and talks until his voice gives out. It’s a bit overwhelming but it’s necessary—even though Qin Su has helped Mother with running the sect, Laoling Qin is significantly smaller than Qinghe Nie.
Being the Madam of a major sect requires more.
But Qin Su doesn’t shy away from the work. She already learned to run the camp back during the war, she can learn to run a Great sect. It helps that the previous person in charge had been Meng Yao because she’s very familiar with his organizing style.
She takes tea with Nie Gang each morning, shares lunch with her mother, and eats dinner in the great hall with the rest of the sect. She takes care to talk with everyone from the kitchen aid to the stable boy and while her memory isn’t quite as good as Meng Yao’s it doesn’t take long for her to commit the residents of her new home to memory.
Mingjue’s courting gifts reflect well on his sect and status. He gifts her a luxurious lynx fur coat and a pair of delicate, yet wickedly sharp daggers with lessons on how to properly use them. A guan studded with polished gems and a filigree ring with the Nie Beast motif. A selection of high-quality brushes and ink with several leather-bound journals with inlaid privacy talismans. A set of simple yet beautiful bone combs Nie Huaisang whispers were carved by Da-ge himself.
One morning Nie Zonghui interrupts her tea with Nie Gang and formally requests her presence in the central yard. Bemused and curious, Qin Su follows him to learn that Mingjue isn’t the only one present—it looks like at least half of the sect is there.
Mingjue stands in the middle of the yard with a massive buck on his shoulders and when Qin Su steps in, he lowers the carcass on the ground with ease that takes her breath away.
”Miss Qin,” he says in a formal voice. ”We are going to have a feast tonight. Would you grant me the honor of preparing the roast with me?”
She smiles. ”There’s no need to ask, Mingjue,” she says and steps forward, ignoring Mother’s slightly green look.
She’d come across the ritual in one of the books she’d found in the library. The Nie had been founded by a butcher, yes, but she hadn’t really expected Mingjue to do this. Stripping a buck isn’t usually something a courted lady would be willing to do but Qin Su doesn’t mind—in fact, she’s thrilled Mingjue values her highly enough to revive the old custom.
But also, if she’s going to eat the meat, she should be able to see where it came from.
She kneels and looks up at Mingjue. ”Where do I start?”
Mingjue huffs a laugh, shakes his head, and leans in to show her.
It takes hours and hours and after, she’s sweaty and smells like blood and guts, and she feels amazing. The buck has been completely dissected into neat piles: meat in one pile and bones in another, blood drained into several buckets; hooves set aside with the antlers to be carved into combs and accessories later; the intestines soaking in water. The pelt was carefully wrapped and carried away to be treated and, if Qin Su is right, it will eventually end up in the crib of their firstborn.
There’s a low heat simmering in Mingjue’s eyes and his gaze feels like a caress on her skin, sending a frisson of something shivery down her gut and making her light-headed. ”Thank you for your excellent work, Miss Qin,” he says, voice rough, and bows deep.
”The pleasure was all mine,” she says and bows back. ”Although I wouldn’t say no to a bath right now.”
He guffaws and looks at Nie Zonghui who grins. ”A bath has been prepared for you, Madam,” he says.
”We’re not married yet,” she chides as he leads her to a spacious bathing room she hasn’t seen before. Mother is already there, having left when Qin Su had cut off the buck’s head.
Nie Zonghui greets Mother with a small bow and turns to Qin Su. ”The last woman to partake in that custom,” he says, ”was Nie Mingjue’s mother. You might not yet be married but believe me, you already are Madam Nie.” Then he bows deeply and leaves.
Mother tuts and grumbles and sighs as she scrubs her several times from head to toe, exasperated at the smell of blood that lingers. Qin Su closes her eyes, leans her head back, and smiles.
The next day, she asks Nie Huaisang to show her a proper braid she could wear before getting married. His answering smile is bright and his eyes wet with tears but his fingers are sure and nimble.
”Thank you, Huaisang,” she says, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
He shakes his head. ”No, I should be thanking you. I never thought—” he pauses and ducks his head for a moment, seemingly overcome, his hand gripping her shoulder. ”You make da-ge so happy,” he whispers.
She reaches to gently hold her hand over his. ”He deserves to be happy,” she says.
The next morning, when Mingjue comes to walk her to her daily meeting with Nie Gang, he takes one look at her hair and promptly walks into the wall.
Her wedding day goes by in a blur. Mother and Huaisang worked hard to make everything perfect, Father’s eyes are bright and happy, and the food is delicious. She tries to take it all in, to savor it, but all she can concentrate on after they finish their bows is that they’re married now.
There are toasts and speeches and music, and thankfully very little leering as Sect Leader Jin was unable to attend and sent his newly legitimized and renamed son Jin Guangyao in his stead. It probably was meant as an insult but both she and Mingjue are glad to see Guangyao instead of his father.
When they finally take their leave and retire to their bridal chamber with the guests’ good-natured whistles and laughter trailing behind them, Qin Su feels oddly calm. This is her husband holding her hand, the man she’s learned to know and dearly love. She’s seen him enraged and covered in blood, sleeping soundly after a hard day’s work, and laughing at the antics of his silly little brother, and she’s ready to start her life as his wife.
Mingjue’s rooms have been refurnished and the bed made with soft linen and warm furs, decorated with symbols for double happiness. As they stop, Mingjue is silent for a moment before asking softly, ”May I remove your veil?”
”Yes,” she whispers, tilting her face up a bit as Mingjue lifts her veil with both hands, smiling at the wonder in his eyes.
”I never thought I’d marry,” he says. ”You have changed so many things in my life, little sparrow.”
”For the better, I hope?”
He huffs. ”Only for the better, A-Su.” He pauses, his hands hovering. ”May I kiss you?”
”I am your wife, Mingjue,” she says gently. ”You don’t have to ask.”
He shakes his head, suddenly serious. ”We may be married but that doesn’t mean I can just take. I don’t want to hurt you, A-Su. And I couldn’t bear to take something you’re not willing to give.”
Oh.
She feels her eyes prickling with tears. ”You wonderful man,” she whispers, reaching out to cup his cheek. ”I’ll have you know that I’m willing. Very, very willing.” She slides her hand behind his neck and draws him closer. ”Now. Kiss me, husband.”
He does.
It starts slow and hesitant, a gentle press on her lips as he cradles her close and then she opens her lips and tilts her head and it turns from gentle to devouring. She feels light-headed when he finally lets go and rests his forehead against her, breathing hard. ”The things you do to me, little sparrow,” he murmurs.
She swallows and whispers, ”Show me.”
He gives her one bruising kiss and then starts peeling her off of her wedding gowns. Luckily, they’re not as elaborate as some she’s seen, otherwise they probably would all end up ripped on the floor. Now, only two robes tear at Mingjue’s impatient hands. He kisses each revealed strip of skin, making her tremble as each press of his lips feels like a brand on her skin.
He lets out a shuddering breath as the final robe slips from her shoulder, leaving her bare to his gaze. Qin Su thinks she probably should feel self-conscious but she feels loved instead, painted warm with the appreciation and want in his eyes. He touches her with reverence, trails his big palm along her arm and down the curve of her hip, and she feels safe, so safe in his arms.
She starts to back up towards the bed, drawing him in with her until the backs of her knees hit the bed. Mingjue still has his heavy wedding robes on and she reaches for his sash, peeling him from his layers robe by robe. When she parts the final layer and reveals the puckered scar on his chest, she can’t help but press her palm on it.
”I wanted to kiss you back then,” she says, trailing her fingers along the line running down from his shoulder.
”I would’ve let you,” he says. He takes her hand and brings it to his face, cradles it against his cheek before pressing a kiss on her palm. She shivers and he looks up, frowns.
”Are you cold?”
She can’t help a small giggle. ”No, husband. I’m not cold,” she says drolly.
He clears his throat. ”Ah. Right. In that case…” his voice drifts off.
Qin Su’s smile melts away and she leans forward, pressing her body against his. ”It’s just us,” she says. ”You and me.”
He nods and glances to the side. ”I’ve never—” he says and hesitantly adds, ”With a woman.”
”Oh,” she says. ”Well. I’ve never done this with anyone before,” she says, tilting her head to catch his eye. ”So we’ll learn together.” She waits for his nod and then takes his hand and turns to climb into the bed.
He follows her and lowers himself next to her, reaching out a hand to trail fingers on her skin. They draw goosebumps at their wake and she’s reminded of the time she treated his wound. Mingjue grazes his fingers over her nipple, drawing out a soft gasp and it’s almost like that’s what he was waiting for. He leans in to press kisses on her skin, maps a trail from her throat to her navel, breathes in her skin in the hollow of her neck. His palm is big enough to cup her whole breast and he does that, making her tremble as he rubs his thumb over her nipple. It’s almost too much and yet she lets out a small sound of protest when he slides his hands down to her hips and then to her behind.
”Tell me if you don’t like this,” he says in a gravelly voice, and it’s the only warning she gets before he grips her hips and lifts.
”What—” she manages and then she feels his lips on her—on her.
She knows the area—she has touched herself hesitantly before but she’d never thought it could feel like this. Mingjue buries his face between her thighs and all she can feel is warmth and mounting pressure, and searing, blinding pleasure as she peaks with a startled gasp.
And yet, he doesn’t stop.
Qin Su loses herself in the haze of pleasure, forgets to hold back the moans, forgets to try and hold still. She writhes and trembles and arches as she peaks again and again and again, sobbing with the sensations her husband draws out of her with his mouth and tongue. When he finally relents his hold, her legs feel like overcooked noodles and her whole nether region is warm, wet, and throbbing.
Mingjue presses his face on her stomach and holds her tightly, and doesn’t look up until she cards her fingers through his hair.
”Was that acceptable?” he asks with a twinkle in his eye.
”Very,” she croaks, then clears her throat and tugs at his hair. ”Come here and kiss me.”
He wipes his mouth on the sheet and then kisses her, and it’s as heady as it was earlier, even with the lingering scent and taste of her pleasure.
”What about you?” she asks. ”Did it please you?”
He lifts his head, raises a brow, and pointedly grinds his hips down. His sizeable hardness presses against her hip, hot through the wet fabric. ”Everything about you pleases me,” he says and kisses her throat. ”Your smile. Your voice. Your tenacity. Your character.” He accents each declaration with another kiss, trailing across her bare chest. His mustache tickles and she shies away, twisting onto her stomach with a laugh.
Mingjue lets out a playful growl as he grabs her leg and kisses the back of his knee, prompting a helpless giggle from her, and then he devotes more time to map her back with kisses and gentle touches. It’s almost like he can’t get enough of her and she lets herself float, safe and warm and cherished.
She ends up on his lap, leaning against his chest with her legs spread over his thighs and her head leaning on his shoulder.
”A-Su,” Mingjue chokes out. His erection twitches against her and she rolls her hips slightly, making him groan.
She turns to nose the warm skin under his jaw. ”I think you should take your pants off,” she murmurs and smiles when her suggestion makes him shudder.
She trusts his hold as he rises on his knees to rip away his pants and then sits back down again. She trusts his hold as he carefully maneuvers her and pushes inside. She trusts his hold as his thrusts turn from shallow rocking into something more forceful, almost desperate, and she trust his hold as he clutches her almost painfully tight as she reaches down to rub herself once more into completion.
And when he finally relaxes his hold, she trusts him as he gently moves them to lie down, his love filling her to the brim in so many wonderful, warm ways.
Qin Su wakes up the next morning sore and sticky and happy, cradled against Mingjue’s broad chest. Her husband’s usual scowl has melted away, leaving his face younger and more relaxed. She takes her time, enjoying the chance to just look. His hair is down with some of his braids come undone and she picks up one, examines the braiding, and tries to track the design.
”That means I’m the firstborn son of the first wife,” Mingjue rumbles. She glances up and meets his half-lidded eyes. ”How are you feeling?”
”Good,” she says with a smile. ”So, what did my braid say? You walked into a wall when you saw it,” she teases.
Mingjue groans. ”I wasn’t—Huaisang should’ve known better.”
”Why? Was it wrong?”
He rolls his eyes and turns to his back. ”No. It was just—” He sighs. ”Our braids are decorative but they also deliver messages; your social status in the sect and in your family, your skills, your marital status, and so on. Huaisang and I have the braids that mark us as part of the main family, him as the Sect Heir and I as the Sect Leader. The braid he made for you…” He makes a face. ”It basically declared you as the mother of the sect and beloved of the sect leader when the proper braid should’ve just indicated betrothal.”
She laughs and settles on his chest. ”So, Huaisang is a hopeless romantic.”
”He’s a menace,” he grumbles but his tone is fond.
They lapse into a comfortable silence. Qin Su rests her cheek on his chest and listens to the steady beating of his heart as he traces circles into her back with his finger.
”You said you hadn’t been with a woman,” she murmurs after some time.
”Is that a problem?” he asks carefully.
She doesn’t have to think about her reply. ”No,” she says easily. ”And you don’t have to tell me.”
”Mn,” he says. Then, to her slight surprise, he continues. ”It was Xichen. Years ago.”
”Well. He is a very attractive man,” she points out, startling a laugh out of him. ”What?” she asks.
”Oh, little sparrow,” he says, eyes crinkling with his smile. ”You keep surprising me.”
”Thank you,” she says primly and then yelps as he flips them and kisses her.
It takes them a while to actually get up.
Before he returns to Lanling, Jin Guangyao invites everyone to the Phoenix Mountain Crowd Hunt. ”The Jin Sect would like to offer everyone the chance to get their minds out of the hardships of the war, and to look into the future together,” he recites.
He looks respectable in his new, golden robes, black hat, and vermillion dot, but Qin Su wonders about the dark smudges under his eyes and the strained stretch of his smile.
”How has life been for you in Jinlintai, A-Yao?” she asks.
”It has been educational, Madam Nie. There’s a lot to learn in my father’s household.”
She raises a brow. ”There’s no need to call me so formally. We are still friends, I hope?”
His eyes flicker to Mingjue and then back to her. ”I—yes. Of course.”
He takes his leave shortly after that but the interaction bothers Qin Su enough that Mingjue takes notice.
”He made his choice,” he grumbles, frowning at the report on his desk.
Qin Su doesn’t bother mentioning the report is upside down. Instead, she sits next to him and asks, ”What happened between you two? I thought he left with your recommendation.”
”He did,” Mingjue agrees. ”But the things I later heard were troublesome.”
”Troublesome how? And where did you hear them?” He shakes his head, reluctant to tell her, and she adds, ”I’m only wondering how reliable that source was. You know how people outside the Nie think of him.”
He scowls which doesn’t surprise her. She knows him already—knows how unbending he can be, how hard his mind is to change when it’s set on a certain path.
She reaches her hand to touch his cheek and he blinks and leans into the touch. ”Does it have something to do with what happened in the Nightless City?” she asks softly. ”I only learned afterward that you’d been badly hurt but A-Yao made sure to come tell me as soon as you were stable.”
”He killed seven of my men,” he says tonelessly.
”I’m sorry,” she says.
He shakes his head. ”He killed them while wearing Nie braids, including one so old and obscure I barely remembered what it meant.”
”What was it?”
He’s silent for a long while. ”Assassin,” he finally says. ”But I couldn’t be sure so I spent quite a lot of time digging through the archives. And when I found it, I found his note and apology.” He shakes his head. ”I don’t even know when he found it or how many years he’d been planning this.”
She doesn’t say anything but leans into him and puts her head on his shoulder. Mingjue is a straightforward man and deception cuts into him deeply. Qin Su can understand that A-Yao felt like he did what he had to do but she can also understand how much it hurt—still hurts—Mingjue.
”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to burden you—” he starts but stops when she presses a finger on his lips.
”I’m your wife,” she reminds him gently. ”It’s not a burden—and even if it was, I’d bear it gladly.”
He grumbles but thaws under her gaze and even huffs a laugh when she wordlessly turns his report right side up.
Considering the want Mingjue feels for her, she isn’t surprised when she misses her monthly bleeding. What does surprise her, though is how sick she feels. The maids tell her it’s a sure sign of a strong boy and she tries to bear their good-natured congratulations while puking her guts out.
It also means she isn’t going to Lanling for the crowd hunt with Mingjue.
Mingjue tries to make both Huaisang and Zonghui stay with her, claiming that he should be enough to represent the might of the Nie.
”It’s not about might,” she reminds him. ”It would do good for Huaisang to meet his friends. I will be fine with Mother and Zonghui here.”
It takes a bit of cajoling but Mingjue finally agrees.
”I’m leaving a stack of emergency talismans,” he says. ”And you must be careful with what you do. Remember to rest. And eat. And—”
”She’ll be fine,” her mother says, a declaration made slightly less believable by Qin Su’s violent retching. ”Nie Mingjue,” Mother adds, not unkindly. ”My daughter is carrying my grandchild. I will take care of her.”
”I’m going to die,” Qin Su groans as soon as the door closes behind her husband.
”Of course you’re not going to die,” Mother says brightly. ”You are pregnant. Women have been pregnant for ages. Now, turn around and let me rub your temples.”
Qin Su spends the time Mingjue is away in a miserable haze of nausea and soul-deep fatigue, wondering why anyone would want to be pregnant more than once. She’s still cranky and exhausted when Mingjue returns and she blames her condition that it takes her a couple of days to realize something is wrong.
”Something happened,” she says, peeking at Mingjue. She’s on her side on the bed, a cold compress on her forehead and a piece of candied ginger in her mouth. She dislikes ginger but so far, it’s the only thing that helps with the nausea.
”Don’t worry about it,” Mingjue says, scowling at a letter with a Gusu stamp.
”I might smell like vomit and look like a swamp yao but that doesn’t mean I’m not the Madam of this sect and your wife,” she snaps. ”I should’ve been there but I wasn’t so tell me what happened.”
He looks up, slightly startled. ”You look beautiful,” he says.
”Flatterer,” she says dryly.
He sighs, sets the letter on the desk, and pinches the base of his nose as if to stave off a headache. ”Wei Wuxian,” he says like that explains everything. For him, perhaps it does. At her questioning sound, he shakes his head. ”There was a confrontation during the crowd hunt I only heard about afterward. Later, during the banquet, he barged in and demanded information on the whereabouts of some Wen prisoners. And then he stormed the camp, killed the guards, and left with the prisoners.”
”Why?”
”How the hell should I know! That was a labor camp with captured Wen soldiers, I have no clue why Wei Wuxian would feel the need to take off with them.”
Qin Su let out a noncommittal sound. ”That does sound strange,” she says slowly.
”No one had any idea who the Wen Ning he was talking about even is,” Mingjue grumbles.
”Wait—who?”
”Wen Ning,” Mingjue says frowning at her. ”Why?”
She pushes herself to sit up and he hurries to help her, settling behind her so that she can lean against his chest.
”If I remember correctly, Wen Ning, courtesy Qionglin, is Wen Qing’s little brother,” she says slowly.
”Wen Qing? Wen Ruohan’s personal doctor Wen Qing?”
”Mn. Wen Qionglin isn’t a cultivator, though. His core and pathways were damaged when he was a child.”
Mingjue lets out a huff. ”So what? A Wen is a Wen.”
Qin Su hums. ”Do you believe them?” she asks. ”The Jin?”
”In general, no,” he says flatly. ”In this case… I don’t know what to believe.”
”Did anyone go and check the site?”
He gives her a bemused look. ”What good would that do? The Jin guards were already dead.”
”Mingjue,” she says, feeling a bit annoyed. ”The Lan have a technique that can interrogate the dead, don’t they?”
”Ah,” he says sheepishly.
She wants to say more but a sudden bout of nausea takes over. She barely has time to scramble around to throw up onto the floor instead of on the bed. She heaves until nothing more comes up and then slumps, trembling, into a heap on the bed.
”I heard that nausea means it’s a—”
”Shut up,” Qin Su snaps.
Mingjue shuts up.
The Nie healers tell her everything is fine and the pregnancy is proceeding normally.
It gets better with time, and in a couple of months, when the baby starts to take more space in her belly, she finds herself feeling almost normal again—which is a good thing because the Nie collectively decide she cannot be trusted with herself and hence she’s followed everywhere.
Mother looks satisfied.
Huaisang looks both sheepish and determined, a combination that should be endearing but it most definitely isn’t.
And Mingjue… Well. When Qin Su tells Mingjue she feels claustrophobic and cooped up, he nods and takes her out for a short day trip. When she tells him she’s annoyed by the constant hovering, he shrugs and says it’s not his job to curb his sect members’ enthusiasm about the new sect heir. When the reply, understandably, doesn’t thrill her and she lets him know that, he nods and listens and nods again and then carries her to bed to shut her up in many, inventive ways.
It’s infuriatingly effective.
It’s also extremely flattering to know how thoroughly Mingjue adores her changing body. Qin Su isn’t a vain woman but she can’t help the twinges of insecurity the changes bring. However, Mingjue’s desire doesn’t waver and he’s more than happy to show her just how much he wants her.
However, what makes her perhaps most emotional is how Mingjue calms down when he’s near her. He isn’t a man made for lounging around but he often accompanies her when she takes her nap and uses the time to read reports or do correspondence while she sleeps. Qin Su has lost count of the times she’s woken up with Mingjue’s hand resting on the soft curve of her belly.
”What happened with the Wen prison camp case?” she asks one day. ”The one with Wei Wuxian?”
Mingjue looks up from his breakfast. ”Nothing.”
”What do you mean, nothing?”
He shakes his head and sets his chopsticks down. ”I asked Xichen about it and he later told me that apparently, the site had been cleared and the bodies buried properly and there was no need for more investigation.”
”All bodies?” Qin Su asks.
”I suppose so,” Mingjue says. ”Why?”
She frowns and takes a sip of tea. ”I’m just wondering. Is it common to clear out all bodies from prison camps? Where will the bodies of the prisoners be buried? Or will they be burned? I understand that the bodies of the killed guards would be removed to return to their families, I just find it very strange that all bodies would’ve been removed.”
”Hm,” Mingjue says, narrowing his eyes.
”Are they still at the Burial Mounds?”
”Apparently,” Mingjue says curtly.
”What a terrible place to live,” she murmurs.
Mingjue raises a brow. ”They chose it themselves.”
”Did they? Or did they just have nowhere else to go?”
He narrows his eyes at her. ”Is there a reason for this interrogation?” he asks. ”They’re Wen dogs. They got what they deserved.”
”But—”
He slams his fist on the table. ”I will not have this conversation with you!” he barks.
The outburst makes her flinch and her heart hammer in her chest. She takes a breath and slowly sets her chopsticks down before she stands up, inclines her head, and walks out of the room with her hands clasped in front of her.
She doesn’t lower her hands until she’s safely back in her room and no one can see them shake.
”I’m sorry, little sparrow,” Mingjue says quietly that night as he enters their bedchamber and stops by the door.
Qin Su rests on her side with her back to him. The distance between them feels cold and she aches with it—she’s grown accustomed to her husband’s closeness and warmth but now—
She doesn’t know what to do.
”If you—if you want me to sleep elsewhere,” he says and then stops. He stays quiet for a moment before letting out a sigh. ”I understand,” he says, sounding resigned.
”I don’t,” Qin Su whispers.
”What?”
She takes a breath. ”I don’t understand what happened. I don’t understand why you got so angry. I don’t understand why—” She suddenly realizes her eyes are brimming with tears. ”I guess I’m just stupid.”
”No—no, A-Su—” Mingjue takes a hurried step toward the bed and then stops and…
Qin Su is tired and she wants her husband. She turns, sighs, and holds out a hand. ”Come here,” she says softly, heart aching at the way Mingjue stumbles on his own feet in his hurry.
”I’m sorry,” he whispers as he falls into her embrace. ”I’m so sorry, I never wanted you to—” He swallows. ”You were afraid.”
”I was,” Qin Su whispers back. ”You scared me because I didn’t understand what happened. I wanted to know and you yelled at me.”
She’s heard him yell before, obviously—he’s Sect Leader Nie and his little brother is Huaisang, of course he yells. But he’s never yelled at her, never looked at her like that, never commanded her like that.
He curls around her, clutching her tightly in his arms, and resting his head on her chest. ”I hate the Wen,” he says. ”Not just because of the war. But because…” he pauses. ”Wen Ruohan murdered our father.”
Her fingers gently carding through his hair freeze. ”Oh no,” she breathes. ”I’m so sorry.”
”He did something to Father’s saber and it shattered during a night hunt,” he continues. ”Father was badly injured and it took him six months to die.” He takes a shuddering breath and adds, ”Six months of wasting away and raging through qi-deviation. Everyone knows Wen Ruohan did something.”
”I’m sorry,” Qin Su says again. ”It must’ve been so hard on you and Huaisang.”
”Mn.”
For a while, they lay in silence.
”May I ask a question?” Qin Su asks.
”Please.”
”Are all Wen responsible for their leader’s actions?”
Mingjue tenses up. ”A-Su…”
”Please, Mingjue. I’m not trying to be cruel or insensitive.”
A short moment of tense silence, and then Mingjue lets out a huff of breath. ”You’re talking about the Wen at the Burial Mounds.”
”Yes.”
”Wen Qing did nothing to stop him, either.”
”True,” Qin Su says calmly. ”If you wanted to kill me, who could stop you?”
”What?”
”A faction of Jin, mostly merchants, have settled on the peninsula north of Lanling. Do you hold them accountable for the lecherous actions of Sect Leader Jin?”
”A-Su—”
”The Moling Su cultivate with the qin but their skills are atrocious. Do you blame the Lan for their lack of skills?”
”A-Su!”
”Sect leaders have power, that’s why they’re sect leaders. To say a faction leader—and a woman decades younger than her sect leader—would be in any position to oppose or even refuse her sect leader is laughable!”
”She’s still a Wen!”
”A Wen who went against her sect leader. A Wen who, if the rumors are true, helped the last surviving members of the Jiang sect. A Wen who was therefore declared traitor.” She sighs. ”Mingjue, things aren’t all black and white. People aren’t black and white. People are complicated.”
He heaves a sigh but doesn’t protest.
Perhaps it’s progress.
Or perhaps he’s just tired.
She’s well over the halfway mark of her pregnancy when she realizes the healers have started to worry. They try to keep it from her but it’s hard not to miss when they whisper among themselves and stop as soon as she steps in.
”What is it?” she asks one day after they’ve examined her. ”Is everything alright? Is there something wrong with the baby?”
”We’re…unsure,” the head healer says, shooting warning looks at his two colleagues. ”Sect Leader is big and virile. That affects things.”
”Oh,” she says. ”I see.” She doesn’t.
It gets stranger from there, to the point where she once walks in on the two assistant healers arguing whether to contact someone on Gusu or not.
”I’d like to know what’s going on,” she says pleasantly, sitting down with her hands on her lap. ”Unless you want me to go straight to Sect Leader Nie and tell him you’ve been hiding things from us.”
They glance at each other and then at Qin Su. ”It’s just…strange.”
”Strange how?” she asks and then adds, pointedly, ”Is my baby alright?”
”Yes,” the head healer says from behind her. ”The future sect heir is fine. There’s just something we would like a bit more information on.”
”And why would you contact Gusu?”
The head healer heaves a sigh. ”Nie Xin, our previous expert on pregnancies and delivery, passed away two years ago. While we have all been trained, of course, none of us is the expert she was.”
”But why Gusu? I didn’t think they’d be experts on childbearing and delivery.”
The head healer shares a look with his assistants. ”The Jiang are still rebuilding and…frankly, we didn’t think Madam Nie would be comfortable with a Jin healer.”
Ah.
”You would be right,” she says with a wan smile. ”Then, by all means, contact Gusu—after you’ve talked with Mingjue.”
The head healer pales slightly but bows and says, ”Of course, Madam Nie.”
Lan Jiayi spends quite some time examining her before she sighs and says, ”Well. There’s something but I’m not sure what. The baby seems to be perfectly fine and lively, clearly reacted to my poking and prodding.” She frowns at Qin Su’s belly. ”I would feel more comfortable if you had an experienced midwife or a doctor specialized in these matters available. Unfortunately, we are stretched thin and I cannot stay here for prolonged periods of time but I will write you a list of recommendations.”
”Thank you, that would be appreciated,” Mingjue says, squeezing Qin Su’s hand. ”Is there anything we have to worry about?”
Lan Jiayi shrugs. ”Frankly, I don’t see a reason to ban you from doing anything. If you feel fine and your activities cause you no adverse effects, be my guest. I would recommend keeping an eye on the baby’s movements when you wake up and before you go to bed but otherwise…live your lives.”
Qin Su knows she should take a look at that list and meet up with the healers Lan Jiayi recommended but she just…it feels like a lot and the idea of letting so many strangers close to her (and touch her) makes her skin crawl. Mingjue is worried but doesn’t try to push and so the whole thing is just quietly forgotten.
Until it becomes impossible to ignore because Qin Su goes into labor, and it’s too early.
It’s way too early.
And then Huaisang goes missing. It’s not concerning as such—this isn’t wartime and according to Mingjue, Huaisang has a penchant for getting out of trouble as easily as he gets into trouble. But it just adds to the stress Mingjue is already feeling and it makes Qin Su anxious and that makes her feel even worse.
But Huaisang going missing for two days isn’t the problem.
The problem is that when he comes back, he doesn’t come back alone.
”You brought Wen Qing?!” Mingjue roars. ”Into my home? Into my bedchamber? To my pregnant wife?!”
Huaisang lifts his chin and says, ”Yes.”
”Huaisang!!” Mingjue yells. Qin Su can hear the worry and anger but also fear. She doesn’t like it.
”If you can’t moderate your tone, leave the room so that I can examine the patient in peace,” Wen Qin snaps.
Mingjue’s lips curl into a snarl. ”You—”
Qin Su loses whatever he says into the bright, searing haze of pain.
”Da-ge,” Huaisang says, gripping his forearm. ”Wen Qing is the best doctor in two generations. If anyone can help saozi, it’s her. Please.”
For a moment, Mingjue stares at Wen Qing before he hisses, ”I’m not leaving you alone with her.”
”I honestly don’t care,” Wen Qing says, irritable, ”as long as you’re quiet.” She shrugs off the mud-brown cape, takes out her kit, and looks at Qin Su in the eye. ”Madam Nie. May I?”
”Yes,” she says. ”Please.”
She nods and takes her wrist, pressing two fingers on her pulse, and closes her eyes. A split moment later, her eyes snap open and she asks, ”Why didn’t you tell me she’s having twins?”
”I am?” Qin Su says at the same time as Mingjue says, ”Twins?”
”That explains some things,” she says tightly and proceeds to examine her more closely.
Qin Su loses track of time in the haze of the pain squeezing her in the middle, pressing her belly into a strange shape. Her sides hurt and her back hurts and she wants to cry and also throw up and go to sleep.
”Well?” Mingjue barks when Wen Qing lets out a controlled breath and straightens up.
”There’s a problem,” she says, looking at Qin Su. ”You are carrying twins, yes, but the other is significantly smaller. On top of that, the bigger twin, this one here,” she brushes her hand along her belly to outline the baby, ”is not aligning properly.”
”What does that mean?” Qin Su whispers.
”The baby should be head down,” she says flatly. ”It’s not. It’s sideways.”
Qin Su gropes blindly with her hand in Mingjue’s direction and when he takes her hand, she grips it so hard her knuckles protest. ”What can you do?”
”You are exhausted, Qin Su,” she says calmly. ”We need to get the babies out or you’ll all die.”
”What?” Huaisang breathes.
”No,” Mingjue growls. ”I’m not going to let you cut my wife open like a pig.”
”Would you rather be a childless widow than a husband and a father?” Wen Qing snaps. ”Is your pride so great that you’d rather sacrifice your wife and children only to say you never accepted help from a Wen?”
”I—”
”I am a doctor, Sect Leader Nie,” Wen Qing hisses. ”I’m one of the few remaining doctors trained in these kinds of complications. My mother was better but Wen Ruohan killed her when I was but a child. Granny is also experienced but unfortunately, her sight has grown poor with age, and the Jin prison camp and the Burial Mounds have ruined her hands.” She pauses to calm her breathing and says coldly, ”I can save your family, Sect Leader Nie, but that comes with a price.”
”Name it,” Qin Su whispers.
Wen Qing glances at her and then looks back at Mingjue. ”My family for yours,” she says. ”I save your wife and your children and in return, you grant sanctuary to my family and Wei Wuxian.”
Mingjue lets out an incredulous bark of laughter. ”I should shelter a bunch of Wen soldiers under my roof?”
Wen Qing shakes her head. ”There are no Wen soldiers left,” she says tiredly. ”There’s a handful of sick and elderly people, one child, one almost dead man, Wei Wuxian, and I.”
”What do you mean?” Mingjue huffs. ”Isn’t Wei Wuxian building an army at the Burial Mounds?”
”If you honestly believe that, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought,” Wen Qing says acidly.
Qin Su lets out a sob when another contraction wracks through her body.
”How is it going to be?” Wen Qing asks, raising a brow. ”Do you want your wife to live or die?”
Mingjue looks at her then, anger and anguish warring on his face. ”Save them,” he says in a low voice. ”Please.” He swallows and adds in a growl, ”And if they die, so will you.”
”I would expect nothing less,” Wen Qing says matter-of-factly before she starts snapping out orders.
Qin Su spends her month of confinement recuperating. The delivery—a complicated surgery Wen Qin performed—was challenging, mostly because of how exhausted Qin Su had been to begin with. But she pulls it through and so do her babies: A-Lei is a strong boy and his twin A-Chen a much smaller, delicate girl. Both Qin Su and A-Chen need almost constant spiritual energy transfusions to make it, a fact Qin Su learns only about a week later.
One of the first things she sees when she wakes up (and stays awake for more than a short moment to drink a cup of water) is Mingjue leaning onto the headboard, cradling their daughter against his chest, a small, slightly disbelieving smile on his face.
Things happen outside their chambers. Wen Qing returns to the Burial Mounds with Huaisang and Zonghui and comes back with her family a couple of days later. Mother later tells Qin Su that the group was in a sorry state; sickly and weak people dressed in drags, the toddler among them the only one with round cheeks and boots with no holes. And then there’s a man who is mostly dead and another who only looks like a corpse.
Mingjue refuses to talk to her about them and Qin Su doesn’t ask. She has her hands full with her babies and trying to get better.
Mother, on the other hand, has no problems to talk about their new guests.
”That Young Master Wei…” Mother whispers, shaking her head. ”He looks like a dead man walking. He’s like a skeleton, such thin, frail hands he has.” She changes A-Chen’s diaper with practiced ease and sets her on Qin Su’s arms. ”He tries to hide it but he isn’t well. Must be all that resentful energy he’s been wielding.”
Qin Su doesn’t know the details of the arrangement between Wen Qing and Mingjue but she doesn’t have to know. Everyone in the Unclean Realm knows that Doctor Wen worked tirelessly for almost two days to save Madam Nie and the babies, and because of her, the Nie still have their Madam and two heirs. In exchange for that, asylum to a group of ragtag refugees is a small price to pay—even if that group includes the Yiling Patriarch and his sentient fierce corpse pet. They close their ranks around the Wen in a silent, stubborn show of support, and dare anyone to challenge them.
No one does.
Wen Qing tells her that under no circumstances is she to get pregnant in the following several years.
”You nearly died,” she says bluntly. ”I spent way too long with my hands inside your womb to stitch you back together for you to ruin all my hard work right away. If and when you start to have penetrative sex, you need to make sure to drink contraceptive brew.”
”Is it possible to have another child?” she asks quietly.
Wen Qing narrows her eyes. ”Do you want to get pregnant again?”
The thought makes her shudder. ”Not really, no. At least not…for a while.”
Wen Qing looks disgruntled. ”I wouldn’t recommend it unless you had a skilled doctor available at all times. It’s not guaranteed that your next pregnancy will be difficult but…”
”But I have you,” Qin Su says. ”Right?”
Wen Qing lets a faintly amused smile touch her lips and hums.
It’s not a no.
But it’s also not a yes.
As she slowly keeps getting stronger, she starts to take walks outside their rooms, starting with the yard right outside the sect leader’s residence. With Huaisang busy with planning the twin’s upcoming celebrations, Qin Su is usually with Mother. Mingjue’s mornings are filled with meetings and training the disciples, but he tries to accompany her in the evenings. The twins charm everyone they meet and Qin Su is touched by how very much they seem to mean to the whole sect.
It’s during one of their morning strolls when she hears a bright child’s laughter drifting from to small, closed yard Qin Su doesn’t remember seeing earlier. Curious, she ignores her mother and the maid’s faint protesting and ventures in to see a child of perhaps three years of age playing with—
Oh. That’s the—
Wen Ning.
And behind him, bathing in the bright sunlight is Wei Wuxian, deeply asleep while leaning on a column.
Qin Su freezes and lets out a small gasp, alerting the fierce corpse to her presence.
”A-Yuan—” the corpse says softly.
The child looks at him and then at Qin Su, and with a wide grin, runs to her and latches onto her leg with surprising force.
”Oh, no—A-Yuan—” Wen Ning says, looking way more distressed than a fierce corpse should even be able to look.
Qin Su ignores him and looks at the boy still clinging to her leg. ”Hello,” she says with a smile. ”Are you A-Yuan?”
He nods vigorously and then holds up his hands in the universal ”up!” motion of small children.
”Ah,” she says. ”I’m sorry but I’m not yet strong enough to carry you.”
”A-Yuan,” Wen Ning calls out softly. ”Come back here. Don’t bother Madam Nie.”
She gives him a steady look, taking in his slightly hunched pose and the way he carefully doesn’t take a step toward her. ”I’m not bothered,” she says calmly, and then she makes a decision. She straightens her spine and, holding her head high, she walks into the yard.
”A-Su—!” her mother hisses but she ignores her and walks to the bench, sits down, and pats at the space next to her. After a moment of hesitation, A-Yuan follows her, climbs to curl to her side, and starts to tell her about his day. It’s jumbled and a lot of makes no sense to her but she listens to him, nods every now and then, and says, ”Oh, really?” and ”And then what happened?” and ”That sounds interesting, A-Yuan, tell me more!”
She stays until A-Chen starts to fuss, and when they leave, A-Yuan stands in the middle of the yard, waving cheerfully.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t stir even once.
It slowly becomes a habit, visiting the small courtyard to meet with A-Yuan and Wen Ning. Mother disapproves and Qin Su is very sure Mingjue would too (explosively) if he knew which is why she doesn’t tell him. Mingjue is still busy with post-war politics and doesn’t need small matters like Qin Su’s morning walks to take up his time.
A-Yuan is a delight; a sunny, bright boy with an endless reservoir of questions and delighted interest in the babies. He listens to her with a thoughtful frown and a pout of concentration that frankly looks silly on his face but she doesn’t comment on it. Wen Ning is a silent shadow in the background, gentle and anxious in equal measure, somehow convinced that Qin Su should have more important matters to attend to than spend time with them.
Wei Wuxian keeps sleeping.
”Is he alright?” Qin Su asks after two weeks of almost daily visits.
”Master Wei…” Wen Ning starts hesitantly. ”He—”
”Xian-gege has bad dreams,” A-Yuan says quietly while twirling his grass butterfly. ”Big bad.”
”He does?” Qin Su asks without looking up from A-Chen yawning on her lap. ”That sounds sad.”
”Mn,” A-Yuan hum. ”Sometimes Xian-gege cries. Sometimes he screams.”
”Oh,” she says. ”A lot of people have bad dreams after the war.”
”Not war,” A-Yuan says and looks at her with his big, wide, too-serious eyes. ”The smoky place with the dead.”
”A-Yuan!” Wen Ning exclaims.
The sound is loud enough that Wei Wuxian startles awake. He whips up the hand holding his black flute, almost like he’s fending off a sword (or something else), and a cloud of resentment billows around him.
It only takes a split moment for him to realize where he is and then he lowers his hand with a sheepish laugh, avoids her eyes, and curls back into himself, tucking the flute into his belt.
”Eh, I’m—My apologies, Madam Nie,” he says. His voice is hoarse, reminding Qin Su of her own voice after she’d screamed it hoarse during the birth of her children. His eyes are hollow and haunted and the only thing she can read from him is profound exhaustion.
He looks like he should be dead.
”Please, there’s no need to apologize,” she says. ”I’m the one intruding on your company even though I have plenty of courtyards to choose from.”
”In the Unclean Realm, all courtyards are your courtyards, Madam Nie,” Wei Wuxian says blandly as he carefully walks closer and kneels in front of A-Yuan. ”Let’s go, A-Yuan. I’m sure Madam Nie would like to rest now.”
A-Yuan pouts and lets out a forlorn, tragical sigh. ”Okay,” he says, sounding defeated.
Wei Wuxian turns his head slightly to nod at Qin Su and is about to stand up when A-Chen catches his red ribbon in her flailing, tiny fist.
For a moment, time stops.
Wei Wuxian is frozen on his knees, keeping absolutely still. Behind him, Wen Ning looks on with wide eyes, and on the other side, Mother and her maid look ready to either faint or scream for help.
And then A-Yuan says, ”Oh, no.”
Wei Wuxian swallows.
”We can’t go,” A-Yuan continues. ”The baby says no.”
Qin Su smiles. ”That indeed she does,” she says lightly. ”I’m afraid you are stuck, Young Master Wei.” She looks him steadily in the eyes and takes a leap of faith.
She winks.
”Oh,” he says, eyes going wide in a way that makes him look nothing like the fearsome Yiling Patriarch. ”Um. So. So it would seem.” He clears his throat and lets out a pitiful whine. ”A-Yuan, I’ve been caught by a fearsome maiden! Will you save me?”
Tension leaks from everyone as A-Yuan giggles. ”Baby is not fearsome! Baby is cute!”
”No, she’s fearsome!” Wei Wuxian argues.
As he bickers with A-Yuan, Qin Su lets out a slow, deliberate breath. Mother still looks a bit green and her hands are clenched so tightly that she’s probably pressed her nails through the skin of her palms.
Behind Wei Wuxian, Wen Ning offers Qin Su a deep, respectful bow.
She smiles and inclines her head back.
Two days later, when they’re getting ready to bed, Mingjue says with a frown, ”Wei Wuxian requested an audience.”
”Oh? What for?”
Mingjue shakes his head. ”He didn’t say why, merely mentioned that I’d be interested.”
Qin Su wonders if their meeting had something to do with it. ”I’ve been seeing him,” she says slowly, ”but never talked until the day before yesterday.”
”What,” Mingjue growls.
She shrugs. ”I’ve been taking my morning strolls by a secluded courtyard. Coincidentally, that’s where little A-Yuan plays with his uncle while Wei Wuxian sleeps in the sun.”
”His uncle,” Mingjue says flatly. ”His uncle who is a fierce corpse.” It’s not a question.
”Wen Ning is very polite,” Qin Su says. ”And A-Yuan is a delightful little boy.”
Mingjue closes his eyes and rubs at his temples. ”A-Su…Please tell me you haven’t been taking the infant Nie heirs to meet the Yiling Patriarch without guards.”
”But I haven’t,” Qin Su says. When Mingjue opens his mouth, she raises a finger. ”No. I’m serious. I don’t know what happened to Wei Wuxian. I don’t know why he turned to demonic cultivation. All I can see is a traumatized, desperate young man who’s exhausted to the bone.”
”War traumatized us all, A-Su,” Mingjue says quietly.
She can’t quite put a finger on why she feels this is different, other than a feeling in her gut. Perhaps it’s the naked fear she’d seen in Wei Wuxian’s eyes when A-Chen had grabbed his hair ribbon. Perhaps it’s the way A-Yuan behaved with him. Perhaps it’s the desperate determination she remembers in Wen Qing’s voice when she counted Wei Wuxian as one of her family when negotiating for their freedom. But— ”Please, Mingjue,” she says. ”Give him a chance.”
For a moment, Mingjue merely looks at her before he gives her a slow nod. ”Fine. I’ll hear him out.”
”Thank you,” she says and gives him a lingering kiss.
(Wen Qing had flatly informed Mingjue that she’ll geld him in his sleep if he risks his wife’s life over something as stupid as intercourse when he has two perfectly functioning hands and a working mind. Mingjue listened to her with flaming cheeks and asked meekly if kisses were allowed.
Wen Qing graciously said yes.)
Her gut feeling pays off when Mingjue returns from the meeting with wide, wild eyes and a tremor in his voice.
”He said—” he starts and pauses to compose himself. ”He said that he can help. That he can fix our sabers.”
”I don’t understand,” Qin Su says with a frown.
Mingjue drops to his knees in front of her. ”If he succeeds. If he can do it. I—I will live to see our children grow up.” He presses his forehead against her knees and wraps his arms around her legs.
”Oh,” Qin Su says. She gently brushes her hand through his hair and thinks, bewildered, that she hadn’t been aware that her husband seeing his children grow up wasn’t an option.
Apparently, Mingjue—and every other Nie who cultivates the saber—has been slowly poisoning himself with resentful energy and resigned to an early, violent death since he took up the mantle of the sect leader. Qin Su will have words with him as soon as this whole purging the sabers nonsense has been dealt with because she has Wen Ruohan’s journals, for Heavens’ sake! Had she known about her husband’s struggles, she could’ve stepped in earlier!
Men.
”Sometimes men are very silly and do stupid things for stupid reasons,” she huffs at A-Yuan.
A-Yuan nods, looking serious. ”Aunt Qing says Xian-gege is stupid,” he says.
”Does she now?” Qin Su asks and cocks her head. ”Why?”
In the background, Wen Ning lets out a softly distressed sound and wrings his hands but doesn’t try to interfere.
During their brief time together, Qin Su has learned that despite being a fierce corpse, Wen Ning is actually very shy and sweet, and loves his small family deeply. She has a hard time believing that this timid, soft-spoken man is a bloodthirsty monster who mercilessly and indiscriminately slaughtered everyone at the Jin camps. Luckily, she already knows that tales are not the truth, and the state the Wen remnants had been in when they arrived at Qinghe spoke louder than any scandalized report the Jin had offered.
”Because Xian-gege wants to help,” A-Yuan says.
”Is that a bad thing?” Qin Su asks. ”Why?” She probably should feel bad interrogating a small child like this but she has a feeling this is the only way to actually get any information.
”Mn!” A-Yuan says, nodding enthusiastically. ”Aunt Qing says Xian-gege is a mun-da-ne now and Xian-gege must be careful.” He pronounces the words slowly and stumbles on the word ”mundane” but Qin Su barely notices.
Mundane.
That means—
She looks at Wen Ning with wide eyes and gets her confirmation when the fierce corpse ducks his head to avoid her gaze.
Mundane.
Oh, no.
Wen Qing has been busy overhauling the healers’ hall but Qin Su knows there’s little to no chance she’ll actually reveal anything. Even without the doctor-patient confidentiality, she’s fiercely protective of those she considers hers—a trait Qin Su understands well—and asking Wen Ning to betray his friend feels more like bullying. So, Wei Wuxian it is.
She waits until they meet at the courtyard again and when Wei Wuxian wakes up from his afternoon nap, she places A-Chen on his lap. The baby seems as fascinated by his hair ribbon as he is by this small human on his lap.
For a moment, Qin Su just sits and watches them, her small, tenacious daughter and this man who has lost more than anyone could even imagine.
”When did you lose your core?” she asks softly, pitching her voice so low it doesn’t carry over to Mother or her maid.
Wei Wuxian’s head snaps up, wide terrified eyes on hers. ”I—ah, haha, I don’t know what you’re—what?” he squeaks.
Slowly, giving him time to see what she’s doing, she reaches out with her hand. ”Madam Nie—” Wei Wuxian says but he doesn’t move away, doesn’t try to brush her aside. He twitches when her fingers touch the inside of his wrist, and when she sends a tendril of qi through his meridians, his whole body trembles.
She finds nothing. In the space where his golden core should be, she finds only emptiness, a yawning void that ripples lazily with resentful energy. His meridians are wide, clearly used to circulate a massive amount of spiritual energy that is now nowhere to be found.
”I’m so sorry,” she says, stricken.
Wei Wuxian flinches and finally yanks his hand from her gentle grip, shooting her a tight smile without meeting her eyes. ”It’s fine,” he says with forced cheer.
It clearly isn’t but there’s nothing Qin Su can do about it now. Instead, she watches as Wei Wuxian tickles A-Chen’s cheek until the baby scrunches her face and lets out an outraged noise, and then he apologizes profusely, holding her with such care that it makes something in Qin Su ache.
Wei Wuxian avoids her for several days—although if questioned, neither of them would call it such. After all, Qin Su is Madam Nie and busy with her children and Wei Wuxian is merely a disgraced cultivator currently residing under her roof. There’s no reason for them to meet regularly.
She still meets A-Yuan and Wen Ning who is visibly distressed by Wei Wuxian’s absence and tries (and mostly fails) to come up with a reason why.
”Young Master Wen,” Qin Su finally says on the third day, interrupting Wen Ning’s stuttering explanation that was slowly falling apart under its own ridiculousness. ”Please, let Young Master Wei know that he’s free to rejoin our morning playtime whenever he feels like it.”
”Oh,” Wen Ning says and blinks several times. (Qin Su wonders if blinking is actually necessary or just a remnant of the time he was alive.)
”Would you like to hold A-Lei?” she asks and then ignores Mother’s terrified hissing and places A-Lei in the fierce corpse’s arms.
A-Lei informs his opinion with a delighted screech that would probably hurt Wen Ning’s ears if he was still alive.
”I fully agree,” Qin Su nods, satisfied.
”Is there anything I can do to help?” she asks the next time she sees Wei Wuxian. He was in the courtyard playing with A-Yuan with an exaggeratedly nonchalant air when Qin Su walked in and they fell into the familiar rhythm with ease.
Wei Wuxian looks tired and wan, with dark bruises under his eyes and a faint tremor running through his body. Qin Su wonders if he gets enough sleep—or any sleep at all.
”There’s no need to bother yourself, Madam Nie,” Wei Wuxian says without meeting her eyes. ”I’m sure you have better and more important things to do.”
He’s right, of course. She’s still a wife and a mother and the Madam of the sect, and she has more than enough to occupy her time with. But something about Wei Wuxian tugs at her and she finds herself strangely annoyed by his refusal.
”Do you know what this braid means?” she asks, sharper than necessary, holding out the braid Huaisang introduced her. ”It means I am the Mother of this sect,” she continues without waiting for Wei Wuxian’s answer. ”It means I look after everyone who falls under the Qinghe Nie jurisdiction, especially those who reside in the Unclean Realm.” She leans forward and pins him with an intense look. ”You are one of those. You are mine to look after.”
He rolls his eyes. ”I don’t need—”
She shakes her head. ”Oh, you silly boy,” she sighs and leans forward to cup his cheek. ”Of course you do.”
He freezes under her palm, eyes wide and more than a little lost and it suddenly hits her just how young he is.
”You are not alone, Wei Wuxian,” she says gently. ”Please, allow me to help you carry this burden.”
He says nothing, just ducks his head, and draws a shuddering breath.
Next to him, A-Yuan looks up, cocks his head, and says softly, ”It’s alright to be sad, Xian-gege! Hug it better?”
The sound Wei Wuxian lets out is a mix of a chuckle and a sob, and when A-Yuan gives him a tight hug, he leans ever-so-slightly against the bench Qin Su is sitting on. Petting his hair is the easiest thing to do, as is humming the slow, swaying lullaby she sings to her twins every evening.
The twins’ 100th day celebrations loom in the near future but Qin Su doesn’t bother with the planning. She knows Huaisang and her mother have everything well in hand and all she has to do is to wear whatever they choose for her and stand where they point. She’s quite sure Mingjue is receiving similar instructions.
Neither Wen Qing nor Wei Wuxian are willing to participate in the festivities and Qin Su doesn’t feel like forcing them. Instead, she suggests Wei Wuxian invite his siblings—and especially his sister—a couple of days early to give them a chance to spend time together before the official banquet and then turns her attention to the twins to give him a moment to recover his composure.
Sect Leader Jiang and his sister arrive with a handful of disciples and they’re quickly whisked away to meet with Wei Wuxian in private. It takes them until the next morning to emerge and when they do, Sect Leader Jiang looks ready to inflict bodily harm on everyone who dares to speak to them while Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli cling to each other with red eyes and tremulous smiles.
Later that day, Jiang Yanli seeks Qin Su out. ”Thank you,” she says with a bow deeper than their respective statuses demand. ”It means the world to me that someone is looking after my didi.”
Qin Su shakes her head. ”I’ve never had a brother of my own but I’m more than happy to help.” She pauses and adds wryly, ”And I think looking after Wei Wuxian is at least a three-woman job.”
Jiang Yanli laughs and launches into a story about Wei Wuxian’s childhood adventures while discreetly wiping her eyes. She’s a good storyteller with a gentle yet sharp sense of humor and the insights she offers into Wei Wuxian’s character are enlightening.
She asks Jiang Yanli to accompany her on the morning stroll to the courtyard and then sits back to enjoy the way Wei Wuxian glows under her attention.
It’s a good look on him.
Qin Su would like to see it more.
As they slowly make their way back inside, Qin Su carries A-Chen and Mother A-Lei, and A-Yuan holds both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli’s hands and swings between them with a wide grin on his face. They stop short when they see Hanguang-jun standing in the middle of the main yard, clad in his customary white robes, one hand behind his back and the other holding his sword.
”Wei Ying,” Hanguang-jun says in a low, intense voice.
And Wei Wuxian—
—He blushes.
Qin Su blinks and shares a look with Jiang Yanli who’s wearing a slightly amused smile.
Well.
The Second Jade of Lan isn’t a man Qin Su has had much contact with. They met in passing during the war but as he was one of the strongest fighters of their generation, he was usually fighting in the frontlines or on a mission with Wei Wuxian.
She thought they were barely friendly.
This—whatever this is—is something very much beyond friendly.
During the small dinner that evening, Hanguang-jun’s eyes follow Wei Wuxian across the room and Qin Su realizes that the hunger in his gaze reminds her of how Mingjue watches her while thinking about all the things he wants to do to her. Seeing the barely restrained desire in Hanguang-jun’s eyes makes her flush crimson.
”Are you alright, A-Su?” Mingjue asks in a low voice. ”You look flushed. Do you need to go lie down?”
She clears her throat. ”I’m fine,” she murmurs. ”Tell me…will Qinghe Nie stand for Wei Wuxian during marriage negotiations?”
He stares at her for a moment as if she suddenly sprouted a second head. ”What?!” he asks loudly enough that it makes everyone pause and look at them. ”Ah, apologies,” Mingjue says and raises his cup to toast, then turns back to face Qin Su and hisses, ”What?”
”Didn’t Yunmeng Jiang strike him off the Sect records?” Qin Su asks. ”So, currently he’s unaffiliated.”
”A-Su,” Mingjue sighs, sounding slightly pained. ”What are you talking about?”
”If Wei Wuxian married Lan Wangji, that would solve a lot of his problems, wouldn’t it? He’d be a part of a respectable Sect and we could back him up.”
”Oh, I see,” Huaisang says, shielding his face with his fan.
”I don’t!” Mingjue growls. ”Why would Wei Wuxian marry Lan Wangji?”
”Because they love each other,” Huaisang says.
Mingjue stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head as if to clear it. ”What—never mind. Why would you say that?” he asks.
Qin Su tilts her head slightly in a way she knows will draw Mingjue’s eyes to the hollow of her throat he likes to kiss and gives him a slow smile. Mingjue’s eyes darken and the look in them makes her blood sing. ”Because,” she says, feeling slightly breathless. ”Lan Wangji looks at him like you look at me now.”
There’s a pause and then Huaisang says, sounding muffled, ”While I appreciate the information, I really did not need to know that.”
”You look happy,” Mother says later when she’s fixing Qin Su’s hair before the bed. It’ll be the last quiet evening in over a week as the next day the different Sect representatives start to arrive for the festivities.
She faces Mother’s eyes in the mirror. ”I am happy, Mother,” she says. ”I have a husband who loves and respects me; I have two lovely children; I have trusted friends and allies with whom to ask help if needed.”
”I’m glad,” Mother says, resting her hands on her shoulders. ”I never thought to see you as the Madam of Qinghe Nie but this is exactly where you’re meant to be. And I’m so proud of you, A-Su.”
Qin Su blinks rapidly to clear the tears from her eyes and turns to give Mother a tight hug. ”I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, either,” she says. ”Thank you for letting me follow my heart.”
A moment later, Mother clears her throat and draws away from the hug, fussing with Qin Su’s hair and robes, gently wiping the tears from her eyes.
She doesn’t know what Jiang Yanli, Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji talked about behind closed doors after dinner, she only saw the aftermath: Jiang Yanli barely bothering to hide her fond smile and Wei Wuxian blushing like a shy maiden every time he glanced at Lan Wangji across the hall. Lan Wangji himself looked no different apart from furiously red ears peeking from under his hair.
She hopes the negotiations between the Lan, the Jiang, and the Wen go smoothly—they’re bound to be tricky, considering Wei Wuxian’s current status and his tangled relationships with all major sects.
Perhaps she should ask A-Yao for some advice. He’s supposed to arrive with the Jin delegation the next day and hopefully, he’ll have some free time to catch up.
The following couple of days are a flurry of activity. While Qin Su loves her children more than she could’ve ever imagined, she isn’t sure they need this much celebration for reaching their 100th day. After all, they don’t understand anything about the proceedings and the lavish gifts the Sect leaders hand out aren’t exactly age-appropriate. Then again, they’re not meant to be. This is, after all, more about the adults than the children.
She suffers through Sect leaders Yao and Ouyang waxing poetic about her children’s prowess and doesn’t bother correcting them when they get their names wrong. She nods attentively when Lan Qiren shares his expertise in child-reading and takes note on Mingjue’s slightly flushed face when Lan Xichen holds A-Chen with a gentle smile. She isn’t going to tease him about it. Not much, at least.
The Jin delegation makes everyone slightly uncomfortable although Sect Leader Jin is too full of himself to notice. He sweeps in and makes unsavory comments on Qin Su’s recovery and Mingjue’s virility before dedicating himself to the wine. He looks disgruntled when the servers are men instead of women.
”Sect Leader Nie, Madam Nie,” Jin Guangyao greets with a bow. ”My congratulations on you and the Qinghe Nie.”
”A-Yao!” she says with a smile. ”It’s been too long. How have you been?”
As A-Yao talks, Qin Su takes him in. He looks exhausted with a slightly waxen complexion and a gaunt face, and she is pretty sure he’s hiding a black eye under layers of makeup. As he leans closer to briefly take A-Lei’s flailing hand, the collar of his robes opens slightly, revealing an ugly, mottled bruise. Qin Su isn’t fast enough to compose her expression and her wide eyes prompt A-Yao to tuck his collar and turn away in shame.
”I think I’d better—” he starts only to be cut short when Sect leader Jin hollers his name.
”We’ll talk later?” Qin Su says, trying to catch his eyes.
A-Yao’s smile is calm and fake. ”Of course, Madam Nie.” He bows to Mingjue. ”Sect leader Nie.”
Qin Su wants to call out to him but she doesn’t know what to say. Mingjue’s eyes are narrowed but he shakes his head minutely so she lets the matter be, for now.
Later, though…
Later, she thinks.
She thinks of the way Mother flinched every time Sect Leader Jin raised his voice and how she always moved to stand next to a door and easy exit.
She thinks about the bruises on A-Yao’s skin and the fervent desperation that shone in his eyes whenever he looked at his father.
She thinks about how she glanced at the mirror while talking to A-Yao and was struck by how similar they looked.
She thinks about how Jin Zixuan, A-Yao, and herself have identical dimples.
She looks at Huaisang and thinks how his veneer of a lazy Young Master hides a sharp, cunning mind.
Huaisang looks up and meets her eyes over his fan. ”What are you thinking about, saozi?” he asks.
Qin Su thinks about family and loyalty and love and duty, thinks about the braids in her hair and in A-Yao’s hair, and how far she’s willing to go to protect the ones she considers her own.
She thinks about hidden depths and strengths. About devotion and who deserves it.
And she turns to look Huaisang in the eye, leans forward, and says, ”I need your help with something. It might be dangerous.”
Huaisang’s eyes light up with interest. ”Whatever you need, Madam Nie,” he says, and doesn’t sound like a lazy young master at all.