the grandmother rule

When Baoshan Sanren had withdrawn from the Cultivation World, the reason had been one part grief, one part exhaustion, and a whole fucking many parts of pure, seething rage. Being a rogue cultivator was a risk as was being a woman, and being both made her a target of lecherous, ridiculous, pompous men who thought her biggest worth was in between her legs.

What a bunch of idiots.

One of the reasons she remained rogue was the ability to choose her own rules and her own company and to satisfy her need for human contact with short visits to sects she deemed worth her time. Luckily that need wasn’t very strong because there weren’t that many sects she deemed worth her time.

Cultivating to immortality was never her goal. It just…happened. She tended to zone in on interesting things, be it the growth process or a blade of grass, the steady thrumming of blood in her veins, the brightness of the early morning sun, or the slightest of tremors of her arm as she bet against herself to see how long she could hold a sword form. (The answer to that turned out to be quite long if the family of birds that built a nest on top of her head was anything to go by.)

With immortality, came fame. And hopeful disciples. She honestly wasn’t that thrilled about the latter but she absolutely detested the former. Disciples she could tolerate in small numbers which was the main reason for the elusive personality she advertised and the rule to never come back once they left her mountain. In truth, if she bothered to invest time and energy to train someone, she’d always be happy to see them return, even with occasional additions like a spouse or a child. (The ones she didn’t want to see wouldn’t be seen by anyone else, either. After Yanling, she made sure of that.)

All in all, she was content.

…until the children arrived.

”Immortal Baoshan Sanren!” the boy with a walking stick and a blindfold intoned, making her roll her eyes. 

She was about to move on when another person stepped from around a bush and blatantly impersonated as her. She couldn’t help her curiosity so she stayed, hidden behind the veil that separated her from their plane of reality, and watched as the boy blabbered his barely rehearsed lies and the girl pretended to studiously listen to him before summoning him to follow, holding on to a silk scarf.

What a weird procession!

The girl was a small, delicate thing but with iron in her core and steel in her spine, that was more than obvious. She was wearing muted red robes and a wide-brimmed hat with a black veil that obscured her face from view, a habit Baoshan had never really understood. She led the boy around in obvious circles before finally making her way to a small clearing where she ordered the boy to lie down.

Wait…was this some kind of a clandestine meeting? A secret dalliance of like-minded people interested in some strange perversions? 

The boy, still wearing his blindfold, clumsily lay down without a word while the girl pretending to be her busied her hands with some idle movements obviously just meant to create noise. Then she tapped the boy’s temple lightly, and the boy fell asleep.

”You can come out now,” she said calmly, carefully taking off her hat and setting it beside her.

For a split, ridiculous moment, Baoshan thought she was talking to her, but then two more boys walked into the clearing, one in black robes and a red ribbon in his hair, the other in red clothes similar to the girl. He also looked a lot like her—a brother, most likely. 

”Is he—” the black-clad asked in a low voice, glancing at the sleeping boy.

”He’s asleep,” the girl said, flicking out a set of needles and placing them on the sleeping boy with professional ease. ”And now he’s unconscious.” She paused and gave the black-clad boy a long, hard look. ”Are you absolutely—”

”Wen Qing,” the boy warned.

She sighed. ”Fine. A-Ning, you know what to do.”

”Yes, jie,” A-Ning said in a timid voice and hurried to set down a cloth, cleaned it with a flicker or spiritual energy, and then set down several delicate, sharp knives, a needle and thread, a bowl of water, folded cloths, and other paraphernalia of vaguely medical look.

The other boy lay down next to the sleeping one and opened his robes, making a face when Wen Qing wiped his stomach with a cloth doused in something yellow. Baoshan was truly confused now—what in the name of the Heavens was going on here? This looked like a surgery about to begin but why would they perform it on the mountain of all places?

Then Wen Qing expertly set a selection of needles in place on his neck and head and said, ”Wei Wuxian, you are paralyzed now. You can’t move but you’re still able to scream.” She closed her eyes for a moment and added, ”You will.”

”That sounds like a dare,” Wei Wuxian said, narrowing his eyes. He was trying to play it off like a joke but there was a wild look in his eyes and a quiver in his chin.

Wen Qing ignored him as she cleaned her hands, took the first knife on the left, and leaned over him. ”I’m about to start.”

And then, without waiting for his reply, she cut his stomach open.

In front of Baoshan’s wide eyes, Wen Qing parted skin, muscle, and fascia, and nodded at A-Ning who activated a talisman and carefully placed it on intestines to keep them out of the way. She worked quickly, methodically, showing no outward sign of distress as Wei Wuxian started to scream, nodding absently every now and then as A-Ning assisted her. She seemed to be cutting through the same spot over and over again which seemed ridiculous—how long would it take for a doctor to open a part of a person’s body? The stomach was squishy, there wasn’t that much to go through!

Next to her, A-Ning quietly prepared the sleeping boy, parting his robes, wiping his stomach, placing the needles, and then cutting him open. It was far less dramatic, mostly because that boy was properly unconscious and not screaming.

With a hiccup, Wei Wuxian went almost silent. Not because he passed out but because he’d screamed himself sore and could only push out a pitiful wheezing sound. He was still awake, which frankly was impressive, considering Wen Qing had his stomach split open, a set of needles and talismans jammed on and around his lower dantian, her hands wrist-deep into him.

When she saw light spilling out from the wound, Baoshan first thought it was a trick of the light, the setting sun casting errant rays at an odd angle but then the light got brighter, spilling out of the would like molten gold. Baoshan blinked several times. Light! In the lower dantian! There was only one thing that could be that bright but—

Truly?

She was fascinated and repulsed at the same time. She’d never even heard of such a thing to be possible! Cutting out a person’s golden core sounded too fantastical to be true—even cutting someone open to see it sounded too fantastical! Was medical cultivation truly progressed this much during her seclusion? …or perhaps not, what with the remote location and subpar operation room under the open sky.

But still. 

This was a miracle. Right?

The exposed core was bright like the sun, hard to look at and yet somehow almost singing to her. It was contained—barely—in Wen Qing’s hold but it was volatile, lashing out like a river trying to escape her, to flow back into Wei Wuxian’s body where it belonged. It vibrated a low hum and reached out Baoshan and—

Her breath caught at the brush of something intimately familiar.

Could it be—

Was it really—

She thought they were lost to her—

She parted the veil separating the planes, took a step forward, and said, ”Absolutely fucking no.”

To her credit, Wen Qing didn’t scream. She crouched low over Wei Wuxian, cradling his core(!!!) in her hand and holding a bloodied knife in her other. A-Ning, on the other hand, let out a startled huff and then looked at Wen Qing for guidance.

”Who are you?” Wen Qing demanded. Behind her, Wei Wuxian’s eyes were wide and swollen, his face wet with tears.

”The one you’re clearly not,” Baoshan replied dryly, watching how Wen Qing’s frown morphed into awed trepidation. ”Now, put his core back where it belongs.”

”Don’t!” Wei Wuxian rasped. ”He needs—Jiang Cheng needs it!”

Baoshan gave him an unimpressed glare. ”And ripping out yours will fix things? Did he agree to this?”

”Yes,” Wei Wuxian said.

”No,” Wen Qing said flatly. In her hand, Wei Wuxian’s core leaked through her fingers, eager to return to its home. With a flick of her finger, Baoshan helped it along and it slotted into place almost like it had never been cut out in the first place.

Wen Qing gave her a sideways glance. ”That was a pain to cut out.”

”Not as much as it was for him,” Baoshan pointed out. ”What the hell do you think you’re doing here anyway?”

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth and then closed it when Wen Qing raised two fingers holding a needle. ”We are in the process of a golden core transfer,” she said smoothly. ”It’s a revolutionary technique.”

”And the reason you’re doing it on top of a fucking mountain…?”

”War.”

”War?”

Wen Qing inclined her head. ”War. Wei Wuxian and his family are fighting my clan.”

Baoshan looked from her to Wei Wuxian and back. ”This is an interesting way to wage war,” she said dryly and then added nodding at Wei Wuxian. ”Close him up, would you? Watching his intestines glisten in the sun is disturbing.”

”Wen Qing!”

”Be quiet, Wei Wuxian!” she snapped back. ”If she tells me to stuff you up and stitch you whole again, I’m not going to argue.”

Baoshan decided she liked this girl. She had potential.

”But Jiang Cheng— I promised him—” Wei Wuxian said, desperate and stubborn.

”You promised him what?” Baoshan asked, raising a brow.

”That Baoshan Sanren could restore his golden core!”

That made absolutely no sense whatsoever. 

Baoshan looked at the sleeping boy whom A-Ning was stitching up neatly (Baoshan decided he liked this boy, too: he was sweet and obedient which, if you asked her, were good qualities in a man), knelt next to his prone form, and reached out with her qi.

”He’s been violated,” she hissed a moment later, looking up at the others. 

”Yeah, that’s why I wanted to give him my core!” Wei Wuxian said, sounding like he thought Baoshan was slow. 

”And you decided to use my name…why? Didn’t you think he’d agree to it if you told him the truth?”

Wei Wuxian frowned. ”Your name? What?”

Wait, really? 

Wen Qing sighed and yanked the last stitch in place with perhaps more force than strictly necessary. ”She is Baoshan Sanren, you idiot,” she snapped.

”He’s not very bright, is he?” Baoshan murmured, raising a brow at Wen Qing.

”Excuse me, I was just cut open and then stitched up, all without any pain medication!” Wei Wuxian retorted, sounding hurt. 

Wen Qing turned to look at him and said, sweetly, ”Yes. And how’s that working for you, hm?”

Baoshan wiped her hands on her robes and stood up. ”Wei Wuxian, I’m your martial grandmother. And I absolutely forbid you from mutilating yourself willy-nilly.”

”…willy-nilly,”  Wei Wuxian mouthed silently.

”We need to get out of here. Do you have a reasonably safe location we could use to finish this…” she wiggled her fingers at the two boys lying on the ground, ”…whatever this is?”

Wen Qing bit her lip. ”My office, yes…although I’m not sure how safe it will be or for how long.”

Baoshan shrugged. ”Reasonably safe is enough to start, I’ll take care of everything else when we get there.” When Wen Qing nodded, Baoshan continued, ”Excellent. A-Ning, grab…Jiang Cheng, was it? Grab his hand and take mine. Wen Qing, grab my grandson’s hand and take my other hand. And now, think about your office very hard.”

Transporting four additional people was hardly a strain but transporting to a location she could pinpoint only by proxy was always a bit tricky, passengers or no passengers. She felt slightly nauseous afterward and gladly accepted the tea A-Ning hurried to offer. What a sweet boy indeed!

”So, what now?” Wei Wuxian asked. He was holding himself delicately, one arm over his stomach, and Baoshan had a fleeting urge to let him suffer the consequences of his foolish actions. But then he sighed and beckoned him closer.

”First, I’ll fix this,” she said, placed her hand on his lower dantian, and pushed a wave of spiritual energy into him with enough force to rock him on his feet. ”What on earth were you thinking, child? That could’ve killed you! Crippled you! Don’t you have any self-preservation instinct? Any regard for yourself?”

”No,” Wen Qing said dryly.

”I—” Wei Wuxian started, then threw a betrayed glance at Wen Qing. ”It’s—” He paused, frustrated, to search for words. ”She told me to guard him with my life. She said I owed them. And I do! I really do!”

”Hold on,” Baoshan said and held up her hand. ”Let’s start with that: who told you that and why the fuck would you owe them your core!”

Wei Wuxian made a face. ”Why are you so interested in that? It’s old news!” When Baoshan kept staring at him, he deflated. ”Aiyah, fine. Madam Yu. And I owe the Jiang sect my life.”

”Madam Yu…the Violet Spider?”

Wei Wuxian nodded. ”She’s Jiang Cheng and shijie’s mom. Or she was. She’s dead now. Like Uncle Jiang.”

”What does that have to do with anything you tried to do today?” Baoshan asked, bemused.

Wei Wuxian shrugged. ”My parents died when I was a kid and I lived in the streets for years until Uncle Jiang found me and took me home. Madam Yu never really liked me that much but it was okay! I’m pretty annoying.” He flashed her a bright smile that was perhaps one-third genuine. ”When the Wen attacked Lotus Pier, she shoved Jiang Cheng and me into a boat and told me to take care of him and guard him with my life. And then Uncle Jiang told me pretty much the same thing when we met his boat. He just included shijie which, look, you don’t need to tell me to take care of my shijie!”

”But how the fuck did this turn into a golden core transfer!” Baoshan exclaimed.

”Well…” Wei Wuxian sounded helpless. ”They caught Jiang Cheng. And Wen Zhuliu melted his core. And he was devastated and—”

Baoshan shook her head slowly. ”So you took the matters into your own hands and decided to, what, fix him without telling him?”

”If I told him he would’ve said no!”

”I sure as fuck would have!” a raspy voice growled from the bed.

Wei Wuxian yelped like Wen Qing had stung him with her needles and whirled around, wide-eyed and apprehensive. Jiang Cheng—his shige? Shidi?—pushed himself slowly to sit up, looking like a corpse. 

”Wei Wuxian…WHAT THE FUCK?”

Baoshan thought that was a very good question, considering.

After some yelling, some crying, some more yelling, and a square punch on Wei Wuxian’s jaw, the boys calmed down enough to join Baoshan and Wen Qing for tea. Introductions were made and Baoshan found herself unreasonably amused by the young Sect Leader Jiang’s demeanor, a hopeless and confused mix of awe and grumpiness.

”Chengcheng—” Wei Wuxian started.

”Shut the fuck up,” Jiang Wanyin replied, gritting his jaw. ”I’m not talking to you. Just wait until I tell a-jie.”

That seemed to be a threat big enough to make Wei Wuxian look terrified. Baoshan wanted to meet this jiejie. But before that—

”Now, what was that talk about war?”

Baoshan’s immense spiritual power meant she no longer had to eat but she enjoyed it every now and then. It was easier to slip behind the veil to hide from this reality and walk among commoners unseen and unheard. It allowed her to roam around and listen to gossip and stay informed in the current politics without minor annoyances like talking to people. 

However, the fact that she roved out every fifty years or so meant that she was perhaps not always up to date.

”Wen Ruohan? That uppity young man?”

Wen Qing’s face looked slightly pained. ”My uncle is the senior sect leader among current major sects,” she said delicately. ”I’d estimate him to be somewhere between 50 and 80 years of age.”

”Oh,” Baoshan said. ”Huh…so he’s only grown more arrogant with age?”

”And his sons are no better,” Wei Wuxian muttered darkly.

”You know, this is the reason I withdrew from the world in the first place!” Baoshan said, pinching at the base of her nose. ”Sect politics are a pain in the ass.”

”We need to get to Qinghe,” Wei Wuxian said. ”Shijie is already there and Lan Zhan—”

”You and your Lan Zhan,” Jiang Wanyin huffed, sounding very much like a jealous little brother. 

What was interesting, though, was how Wei Wuxian’s core flared at the mention of this Lan Zhan. Hm. 

”He’s not my Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian mumbled, bright red dots on his cheeks.

Oh. It was like that. ”Well, I’d very much like to meet your Lan Zhan. I guess I’m coming to Qinghe with you,” Baoshan said innocently, barely suppressing a smirk at Wei Wuxian’s embarrassed squeak. 

Before they could leave, though, there was the small matter of Jiang Wanyin’s core. 

”I can’t return it to you or restore it,” Baoshan said, genuinely apologetic. ”This Core-Melting Hand has thoroughly destroyed your core and the meridians connected to it. There simply is no way for you to go back to the way things were before.”

Jiang Wanyin gritted his teeth, face pale and hollow, and nodded grimly without meeting her eyes.

”However,” she said and then immediately raised a hand to stop Wei Wuxian from asking questions. ”However, there might be a way to circumvent the damage.” All four youngster’s eyes were now on her, rapt, attentive, hopeful. ”It wouldn’t be a transfer but a transplant. A piece of a strong core loaned to another. It—”

”I’ll do it!” Wei Wuxian declared immediately, full of determination. 

Baoshan shook her head and tapped his nose twice. ”Oh, you sweet, stupid boy. You don’t even know the risks and yet you’re volunteering. No, don’t try to argue. The fact is that you can’t. It can only be me.”

”But—” Wei Wuxian attempted, only to shut up when Jiang Wanyin elbowed him.

”The core would need to be extremely strong because for this to work, the donor needs to forcibly clear out the broken meridians, transplant part of their core, and have enough to sustain both themselves and Jiang Wanyin through the operation and then stay alive to tell the tale.” She raised a brow at Wei Wuxian who narrowed his eyes mulishly. ”On top of that, the transplant will need regular qi transfusions or it will wither away with time, and the transfusion cannot come from the donor. It’s not a permanent fix-it-all solution.” She looked at Jiang Wanyin and said, bluntly, ”It’s a crutch that will help you to function but it will be a disability with which you will need to live for the rest of your life.”

”But it can be done?” Jiang Wanyin asked. ”And I’ll be able to cultivate?”

Baoshan inclined her head. ”Yes. As long as your qi reserves are replenished regularly.”

The boy clenched his jaw and ducked his head, frowned at his hands on his lap. ”And the cost, Immortal Baoshan Sanren?” he asked.

She quirked her lips. ”The cost? To whom?”

He raised his head, squared his shoulder, and looked at her straight in the eyes. ”For this gift, what would be the cost for me? For my sect? What would it cost you to do this?”

She let the grin bloom fully. ”I like you, young Sect Leader Jiang,” she said, pleased when he was visibly flustered but refused to avert his eyes. Good—the boy had a backbone. ”The cost for you and your sect will be…hm. How to say this? It will not cost you money if that’s what you’re worried about. It will also not put you on a life debt because you’re not actively dead or dying. But it will be an exercise in, well, humility. You will be dependent on others and you will need to ask for help.” She cocked her head. ”Is that something you’ll be able to do? Also, your condition as a mundane will most likely come out at some point. There is a chance you’ll be ridiculed and called names.”

”My father used to say that Wei Wuxian was the living embodiment of our sect’s motto,” Jiang Wanyin said in a low, intense voice. ”I think it’s time for me to try the same.”

”Hm,” Baoshan mused, giving the boy a long, hard look. ”Fine. We might as well start right away.”

Jiang Wanyin nodded grimly, stood up, and bowed deeply. ”Thank you, Immortal Baoshan Sanren.”

”Don’t thank me yet,” she muttered. ”Oh, by the way, what is your sect’s motto?”

It was a four-person job: Wei Wuxian held Jiang Wanyin’s hand, A-Ning prepared the medication as per his sister’s orders, Wen Qing prepared Jiang Wanyin and, well, Baoshan Sanren drew the veil separating the planes close like a robe and slowly pushed her hand into Jiang Wanyin’s stomach.

”If you throw up, I’ll disown you,” she said to Wei Wuxian who tried and almost succeeded in suppressing his retching and, ”This might feel a bit weird,” to Jiang Wanyin who was white like a corpse and staring into the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

If the circumstances were different, it would’ve been interesting to look around and fiddle with parts that belonged inside a human and not in anyone’s hand, but since they were sort of in a hurry, she focused on the matter at hand. (Ha. In hand, more like.) She formed a concentrated, tightly packed beam of spiritual energy into a blade emerging from the tips of her fingers and directed it into Jiang Wanyin’s meridians. It was grueling work for her and intensely uncomfortable and violating for Jiang Wanyin, but he gritted his teeth and stayed still to allow her to work efficiently. She worked only on the main meridians to literally carve out the pathways for spiritual energy to run, and when that was done, she retracted the energy blade and instead drew from her core the very essence of her like melted sugar, spinning it into a tight, compact sphere.

”Prepare yourself,” she gritted out. ”As soon as I withdraw, you need to spin it, Jiang Wanyin. The main paths are open but it’s up to you to keep them that way.”

”I—under—stand,” Jiang Wanyin croaked. From the corner of her eye, she saw Wei Wuxian nod solemnly.

”Wen Qing?” she asked.

She knelt over the boy, needles in her hands. ”Ready,” she snapped.

Baoshan took a breath, gave the small sphere that was soon to be not-hers a spin, and carefully started to count. ”Three…two…one…clear!”

The moment she snapped her hand out of Jiang Wanyin’s stomach, Wen Qing shot out a selection of needles to vital acupoints, and Wei Wuxian started to transfer spiritual energy. 

”Can you feel it?” Baoshan asked.

”Y-yes,” Jiang Wanyin hissed through his teeth. 

”You have to spin it! Wei Wuxian, help circulate his spiritual energy!” Wen Qing barked. ”A-Ning, the potion!”

”Yes, jie!” A-Ning said and carefully helped Jiang Wanyin down a small bowl of dark green liquid that made the boy cough. ”Drink it, Sect Leader Jiang! You have to drink it all!”

Baoshan let out a carefully controlled breath. That had been harder than she’d originally thought but the boy seemed to be doing fine. ”I’m going to take a nap,” she said. ”Don’t disturb me unless the world is about to end.”

She didn’t dare to brush her spiritual energy even close to the boy because there was a very real chance she’d accidentally suck the borrowed core back into herself. It was exactly the reason why she could never transfer any qi into the boy but she didn’t think it would be an issue any time soon. Despite his age and his volatile temperament, she had a feeling young Sect Leader Jiang was well-respected by his peers and would most likely have enough people to help restore his qi-levels. Meanwhile, Baoshan would meditate to restore the imbalance she’d inflicted on herself.

Jiang Wanyin had—and would—lived up to his sect’s motto.

And if his father had never seen the potential, he’d been an utter fool.

It had been a while since Baoshan had last visited Qinghe but after some discussion with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin, she determined that one, particular resting stop with a well was still there, and she transported them there. They’d decided that even though it would take them a bit more time, suddenly appearing in the middle of Unclean Realm would be an incredibly stupid idea. They ended up scaring three donkeys, a flock of geese, and a young maiden who almost fell over in her hurry to flee, but compared to the Nie who would hack at things with their sabers and ask questions later (if they bothered), it was nothing. 

”Are you sure it’ll be safe for us?” Wen Qing asked, biting her lip. 

Baoshan gave her a sideways look. ”If you really think I cannot protect four children, I must’ve done something very wrong,” she said dryly.

”It’s—” Wen Qing paused, blush rising on her cheeks. ”My apologies. It’s not A-Ning and I who I’m worried about. It’s my family.”

”The Wen? I thought your uncle was powerful enough to not worry.”

Wen Qing shook her head. ”No. He’s the head of the whole Wen clan. I’m the leader of our branch family, the Dafan Wen.” She looked at Baoshan, quiet desperation in her eyes. ”A-Ning and I, we carry swords but we’re not fighters, we’re healers. Our whole branch is dedicated to medical cultivation, not sword cultivation.”

”Ah,” said Baoshan.

”Wen Ruohan is not our direct uncle but our mother’s distant cousin,” A-Ning continued softly. ”H-he had our parents killed when jie and I were kids and then t-took us under his protection.”

”Ohhhh,” Wei Wuxian breathed. ”So he took over your branch, and now holds you pretty much hostage with the threat on them? How devious!”

”Smart,” Baoshan said. ”Terrible for you, of course, but politically that’s a smart move.” She took a breath and gave Wen Qing a long look. ”What would it take to put your mind at ease? I don’t think we can relocate a whole branch at once—even I don’t have the strength for it.”

”There are perhaps 50 or 60 of us,” Wen Qing whispered. ”It would mean a world to me if Immortal Baoshan Sanren could help me to keep them safe.”

Wei Wuxian rubbed a finger on her nose. ”A warded dome?” he muttered. ”No, that would take…hm…gaze-repelling talismans? That could work…perhaps if combined…”

Baoshan raised a brow. ”You can come up with talismans on the fly?”

The boy grinned and shrugged. ”Yeah! It’s fun!”

”I like you, Wei Wuxian,” she said and grinned back. ”Fine, then. I’m sure we’ll come up with something together.”

”Oh no, I can see the family resemblance,” Jiang Wanyin said with something akin to dread.

”Come on, children!” Baoshan exclaimed cheerfully. ”Onto your swords, let’s go say hi to the Nie sect!”

As Jiang Wanyin was still too unstable to fly on his own, he flew with Wei Wuxian, apparently scolding him the whole time. Her martial grandson didn’t seem to mind that much but Baoshan had detected an instability in him inflicted by a liberal use of a strong spiritual weapon, but she was shelving that discussion for later. First, they’d need to reunite with the last member of the Jiang family, and then present their case to the war council, and then…well, then she’d have to do something about the Dafan Wen. 

Who would’ve thought that when she decided to take a stroll down the mountain she’d end up going to war? 

Sect politics, she sighed. So bothersome.

Watching sect leaders and disciples alike fall over their own feet as she walked through the Unclean Realm was mostly amusing. It was also slightly irritating but mostly it was just plain fun. Baoshan was used to keeping her full power under wraps but she had a feeling she’d have the chance to flex it out sooner rather than later. She hoped as many crotchety elders as possible would be present. Watching old men get scandalized over a powerful woman never fais to lift her mood.

Their first stop was the medical area where she watched both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin cry as they ran across the yard to hug a delicate maiden who cried and laughed as she clutched them both close. A short moment later, they approached her. Maiden Jiang was not a beauty nor was her cultivation strong but there was a certain tenacity in her, a resilience that came from knowing how to stand her ground, bend and twist to endure a storm but never break. 

She stopped in front of Baoshan, bowed way deeper than was necessary, and said, ”Immortal Baoshan Sanren. Jiang Yanli offers her deepest gratitude for bringing her brothers back safe.”

Baoshan blinked, cocked her head, and said, ”Well, this is just stupid.”

Jiang Yanli straightened, eyes wide and startled. ”My apologies if I offended—”

”Aiyah, no. It’s not that.” Baoshan sighed. ”Look. I’m old and I have no patience for needless posturing, especially from the family of my martial grandson. So, here’s what we’ll do: I’m going to call you A-Xian, A-Cheng, and A-Li, and you will not address me as Immortal. Is that clear?”

The children looked at each other, wide-eyed and dumbstruck. ”But—that’s—” A-Li paused to compose herself. ”How would you prefer us to call you?” she asked carefully.

Baoshan shrugged. ”You can call me Popo. Or auntie. Or Baoshan, I honestly don’t give a fuck.” 

Her reply left A-Li floundering and made A-Cheng sputter. A-Xian, on the other hand, looked delighted. 

Someone cleared their throat delicately behind her and she turned to see two young men of equal, regal bearing, the other wearing a warm smile and the other completely expressionless. ”It’s good to see you, Sect Leader Jiang, young master Wei,” the smiling one said and bowed. ”Your sister has been worried about you.”

”Zewu-jun, it’s good to be here,” A-Cheng said. ”This is—”

”Lan Zhan!” A-Xian interrupted, bouncing to the stern-looking man (a boy, they all were just boys!), completely oblivious to the murderous look from A-Cheng.

”Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, eyes intent on A-Xian, and to Baoshan’s great surprise, their cores flared and reached out to each other. 

Ohhh, so it was definitely like that, she thought. ”A-Xian! You didn’t tell me you were married!” she exclaimed.

Several things happened at once: A-Xian’s smile froze on his face, Lan Zhan went so white he looked almost translucent, Zewu-jun looked politely confused, A-Li pressed her hands on her mouth, and A-Cheng roared, ”Lan Wangji! What the fuck did you do to my brother?”

After some tears (A-Li), yelling (A-Cheng), politely confused questions (Zewu-jun), hyperventilation (A-Xian), wooden apologies (Lan Zhan), amusement (Baoshan herself), and general embarrassment (the Wen siblings), they finally relocated inside to a more private setting. As Wen Qing and A-Ning settled at the small table on the side out of the way, A-Li started making tea, and A-Cheng paced the room like a caged animal.

”If you don’t stop that, I’ll ask Wen Qing to knock you out,” Baoshan said. ”Sit down and meditate, your qi is still too unstable.”

”But—he’s—they’re married,” he hissed. 

”Yes, I know. I’m the one who said it,” Baoshan reminded him. ”Now, sit down.”

A-Cheng sat down.

”Well. That was exciting,” she said brightly and smiled at A-Li when she poured her tea. ”Thank you, sweet girl.”

”You’re welcome, Popo,” A-Li said with a shy smile. It really shouldn’t have made her feel so warm but it did.

”I feel you fave us at a disadvantage,” Zewu-jun said standing in front of her with a slightly awkward air. ”It seems like you know who we are but we don’t know who you are. And yet, Maiden Jiang calls you Popo.” 

There was nothing strange about his expression. A calm, small smile and a pleasant voice, a perfectly civilized meeting between cultivators. And yet, she could feel his strength, quite respectable considering his young age. This man, when provoked, would be formidable indeed.

”You are absolutely right, of course. My name is Baoshan Sanren. I am Wei Wuxian’s martial grandmother and, well. I guess I’m now the adoptive grandmother to what’s left of the Jiang family.”

Zewu-jun raised his brows and his lips parted slightly. Next to him, Lan Zhan looked up with wide eyes, went, if possible, even whiter, and averted his eyes again. 

”That’s—” Zewu-jun started, then stopped and cleared his throat. ”I’m honored to be in your presence, Immortal Baoshan Sanren,” he said formally. ”This one is Lan Xichen, Sect Leader Lan. And this one who has apparently had some misunderstanding with your martial grandson, is my didi, Lan Wangji.” They both bowed deep in perfect unison.

”Oh, for Heavens’ sake, sit down,” Baoshan said. ”This is the reason I don’t like to be out and about. So much posturing! It’s annoying.”

Lan Xichen blinked a couple of times, then inclined his head, and sat gracefully down. Lan Zhan—Baoshan refused to call him by his courtesy name because this was A-Xian’s Lan Zhan— knelt next to him, still looking like he was about to die.

”So. About this marriage…” she started, raising a brow.

”Yeah, so, how did you know?” A-Xian blurted. ”I didn’t even know!” he exclaimed, making Lan Zhan flinch.

”I noticed, yes,” Baoshan said dryly. ”When you saw each other, your cores reacted, reaching out to each other. Oh, and your core flares when you talk about him. Or think about him. Or look at him.”

A-Xian squeaked. ”It—what—how—it doesn’t!” he yelped and covered his face with his hands. ”Really? It does?” he then added in a small voice.

”Mn,” Baoshan said, sharing an amused look with Lan Xichen. Lan Zhan didn’t say a word but his ears were bright red. How cute!

”I would like to know how this happened, Wangji,” Lan Xichen said to his brother.

Lan Zhan, still refusing to look up, said in a clipped tone, ”Cold Pond Cave. Lan Yi. Chord Assassination. Headband.” Then, as if even that was enough to exhaust him, his posture drooped just a little.

”Ah,” Lan Xichen said like the explanation meant something to him.

”Lan Zhan, wait—the headband? You didn’t have to do that! Now you’re stuck with me!”

”You would’ve died,” Lan Zhan said, and then, quieter, ”I don’t mind.”

”But—” A-Xian rushed to his side. ”I’m annoying! And I talk too much!”

”No,” was the answer, and then Lan Zhan closed his eyes, seemingly to meditate.

”What do you mean, no? Lan Zhan!” 

”Young master Wei, perhaps you could give Wangji a bit of space?” Lan Xichen said. ”He’s been very worried about you and this day has been full of surprises.”

”Never mind his surprises,” Baoshan said, ”Lan Yi? You saw Lan Yi?”

A-Xian patted her forearm distractedly. ”I’ll tell you more about it later, Popo,” he said. ”Lan Zhan? Are you okay?”

A-Li clicked her tongue. ”A-Xian, sit down,” she chided. ”Have some tea and let Second Young Master Lan collect his thoughts for a moment. Why don’t you tell me how you met Popo? Was it right after you drugged me and sent me to Qinghe?”

Both boys went pale and looked guiltily down. Ohhh, Baoshan really liked her. 

”Ah. Well,” Baoshan said with a sharp smile. ”That’s an interesting story in itself because for some reason, A-Xian here had decided to—”

”Popo!” 

”—let good Doctor Wen rip out his golden core and shove it into A-Cheng,” she finished.

”—A-Xian!—”

”—Wei Ying!—”

”—is that even possible?—”

”Naturally, as soon as I felt traces of Cangse’s spiritual energy in that exposed core, I stepped in.”

”Wei Ying still has his own core?”

”Sure I do, Lan Zhan!”

”If you don’t mind me asking—why was it deemed necessary in the first place?” Lan Xichen’s voice cut through the conversation like a knife.

Baoshan turned to look at A-Cheng. It was his call, his place to say it. And he did. He gritted his teeth and lifted up his chin as if to dare Lan Xichen to say anything. ”Wen Zhuliu melted my core. That moron tried to donate me his but luckily Popo interfered.”

”And now…?” Lan Xichen prompted gently and then immediately backed down. ”My apologies. It’s a private matter and not privy to me.”

A-Cheng shook his head. ”It’s complicated. I have a core, at least for the moment. But I’ll need to make sure I get regular qi donations to keep it in working order.”

”Popo gave him a transplant!” A-Xian beamed.

Lan Xichen looked like he had a headache.

It took them some while to clear everything up—the core transplant and qi-transfusions, the Cold Pond Cave incident, the handfasting, the general state of awfulness the Cultivation world was in at the moment—and when they were done, they were all exhausted. 

”Popo, I’m sure you’re starved, too,” A-Li said. ”I’ll prepare a light dinner before bed.”

”Oh, I don’t—” Baoshan started and then snapped her mouth closed at the look on A-Li’s face. ”You know what, A-Li? It’s been ages since I last had a good meal and A-Xian here told me your soup is the best thing in the world.”

A-Li shook her head fondly. ”I believe I’ve dropped to second place in his world but I think I can manage,” she said wryly. ”I don’t think I have the ingredients or the time for the soup now but I’ll cook it for us later.”

”Of course, sweet girl,” Baoshan said, cupping her cheek for a moment. ”I’m going to see Sect Leader Lan and A-Xian’s young man out.”

Lan Xichen was waiting for her by the door, watching A-Xian and Lan Zhan dancing around each other. Or more like A-Xian was fluttering around Lan Zhan who was standing stoically, not quite meeting his eye.

”If you do not approve of this—” the young Sect Leader Lan started hesitantly in a low voice.

”Why wouldn’t I?” Baoshan asked, amused. ”They’re so obviously in love that it’s embarrassing, and it’s not my style to stand in the way of love.” She fell silent for a moment and then turned to face Lan Xichen. ”I’m tired of losing people. And if winning this fucking war is what it takes to allow my grandson to marry the boy he adores, then I’m going to win this fucking war.”

Lan Xichen let out a snort and immediately looked embarrassed as if letting out a sound that inelegant was unseemly. ”By yourself?”

She shrugged. ”If needed, sure.” She could feel Lan Xichen’s disbelieving stare, so she rolled her eyes and held out her hand wrist up. ”Go on,” she said with a raised brow.

Lan Xichen inclined his head and carefully set two fingers on her pulse, sending his spiritual energy forth. Baoshan observed it for a moment and then let out a sliver of her own power, watching with detached curiosity as it nearly brought the young Lan leader to his knees.

”Brother!” Lan Zhan exclaimed, hurrying to support him when he let go of Baoshan’s wrist.

”I—thank you—for—the opportunity to—” Lan Xichen wheezed with a slightly wild look in his eyes. 

Baoshan scoffed. ”Nonsense. Young man, I recommend you meditate on that. You are strong enough to withstand that but if you don’t take care of it, you’ll have a hangover.”

”I see,” Lan Xichen said. ”Then I bid you goodnight.” He gave her a slightly wobbly bow and left, a worried Lan Zhan holding him by the elbow.

”Popo, what happened?” A-Xian asked, suspicious.

”He wanted a taste. I gave him one.”

”That—” A-Xian frowned. ”I’m not sure whether that’s interesting or disturbing.”

”It is what it is,” Baoshan said firmly. ”Now. I was told there was food?”

The next morning found them in the presence of way too many young sect leaders that Baoshan was comfortable with. It was all sorts of depressing to think that the senior sect leaders of the Major Sects were Wen Ruohan and Jin Guangshan so she decided not to. Think, that was. 

Instead, she settled back to observe the war council, stretching her senses to brush her spiritual energy at the children play-acting war generals. Lan Xichen, suitably recovered from the previous night, suppressed a flinch when she poked at him and she winked at him, ignoring Lan Zhan’s glare. The Jin heir was decently powerful but weak in spirit and his second-in-command was just… Hm. Baoshan would need to check in on that boy later, there was something very wrong with his qi. Sect Leader Nie was formidable for someone who was continuously teetering on the brink of a qi-deviation which, considering the Nie cultivation style was no surprise. 

She finished her brief tour by tickling A-Xian and Lan Zhan and carefully avoiding A-Cheng, and then raised an innocent brow at the incredulous stares directed her way.

”Since when are grannies welcome in the war council?” the sneering Jin boy asked.

Both A-Xian and A-Cheng opened their mouths in outrage but before they had the chance to snap, Lan Xichen cleared his throat and said, ”Perhaps introductions are in order?”

”I’d really fucking rather not—”

”May I present Immortal Baoshan—”

”This is our Popo—”

For a moment, the room was utterly silent. 

Then, the sneering Jin scoffed. ”Yeah, right. As if—”

”Watch your mouth—” A-Xian started in a low voice, only to be stopped by both Lan Zhan’s hand on his shoulder and Baoshan’s chuckle. 

”Popo?” A-Xian asked, confused.

”Hush now, A-Xian,” she said, then turned to the Jin boy. ”As if…what? Do elaborate,” she said, amused. ”As if I’d be real? As if I’d bother myself with worldly worries?” She cocked her head. ”Or do you perhaps mean that as if I’d side with the Jiang? Why the fuck wouldn’t I? A-Xian is my grandson!”

”As if an immortal would ever use that kind of language,” the boy spat, rolling his eyes.

”What the ever-loving fuck does that mean?” Baoshan asked. ”I swore like a sailor when I was young, why the hell would you think I’d stop when I reached immortality?”

”You have proof of that, Madam?” Sect Leader Nie asked gruffly.

”Of what? Swearing?” When that earned her a dry look, she snorted. ”Ask Xichen here. He checked my spiritual energy last night and only almost fainted.”

”Xichen?” Sect Leader Nie asked.

Xichen nodded. ”It’s true, Mingjue. She is truly an immortal.”

”Oh, please,” the Jin boy muttered. ”Overwhelming someone is just a trick.”

Baoshan narrowed her eyes. She didn’t enjoy uppity men in general and she enjoyed repeating herself even less, but there was something about this boy, some darkness lurking under his skin that made her itch to teach him a lesson. So, she sighed and walked around the table, snatching his both hands in hers before he had the chance to back away, and raised a brow. 

”Mingjue and…what was your name again, Young Master Jin?” she asked without taking her eyes off the sneering boy.

”Uh, I’m Jin Zixuan. Madam,” the Jin heir stammered, then went violently red when A-Xian snorted.

”Alright then, Mingjue and Zixuan, put your right hands on my shoulders and observe.”

She could sense the baffled looks the children shared but after only a moment of hesitation, both young men set a hand on her shoulder; Jin Zixuan to her right and Mingjue to her left. Still holding the sneering boy’s gaze, she unleashed a sliver of her spiritual energy, letting it rush down her hands and into his like a flooding river. She didn’t bother being too gentle with it, washing his meridians until she reached his core, yanking out the stain lingering there and making him drop to his knees in the process. 

She meant to withdraw right away but then the boy whimpered, something in him lost control and—

Baoshan let out a hiss and fell on her knees in front of the boy, staring into his wide, terrified eyes, and snarled, ”What has he done to you?!”

For a moment, she saw nothing but a sickening cavalcade of violation after another and a child turned from a bright, sunny boy into a young man who hid his terror under sneering and casual cruelty.

”Popo!” A-Xian yelled. ”Let him go! You’re hurting him!”

With a gasp, she let go and the Jin boy scrambled back, trying to get as far away from her as possible. 

”Fuck,” Baoshan mouthed as Zixuan hurried to his…cousin? Yeah, that had to be his cousin. As A-Xian helped her up, she closed her eyes for a moment and centered herself, running a couple of rounds of her spiritual energy through her meridians. It wouldn’t do much for the rage she felt but at least it would help her control it. Maybe.

”Everyone out,” she said quietly. ”I need to have a word with Young Master Jin.” When Jin Zixuan let out a confused noise, she waved her hand. ”Not you. The other Young Master Jin.”

”I’m not going to leave him alone with you!” Jin Zixuan exclaimed furiously. Perhaps there still was some hope for him.

”I’m not going to hurt him, you silly boy,” Baoshan said, rolling her eyes. ”But it’s your choice,” she added, raising a brow at the Jin boy still sitting on the floor. 

”Leave,” the boy said in a dull voice.

”Zixun—”

”Go,” the boy said and then added through clenched teeth, ”Please.”

All children wore worried expressions of varying degrees as they filed out of the room, with A-Cheng and A-Xian lingering by the door. She shooed them out, closed the door, and activated several heavy-duty privacy talismans. 

Then she turned, sat on the floor in front of the boy, and said, ”Tell me everything.”

Truth was, Baoshan Sanren was powerful enough to level whole sects if she so wished. Obviously, she didn’t because the clean-up would be more trouble than it was worth but it didn’t change the fact that she could. And she was seldom as tempted as she was now.

When she exited the war council room, the children were waiting for her, although only A-Xian didn’t bother pretending otherwise. He latched on her hand like a limpet, peering into her eyes like he was afraid she’d been hurt. 

Silly boy.

She brushed a lock of hair from A-Xian’s face and squeezed his hand before turning her attention to the others. ”The Lan are proficient with healing music, right?” she asked. When Lan Zhan and Xichen shared a bemused look and nodded, she added, ”Zixun would benefit from some. As would I.”

”Is he okay?” Jin Zixuan asked. ”What happened?”

”What he told me, he told me in confidence,” she said, not unkindly. ”If he wants to tell you, that’s his choice. Now, unless you want me to start murdering people…?”

”Wangji, go with Immortal Baoshan Sanren,” Xichen said. ”I’ll help Young Master Jin.”

”Mn,” Lan Zhan said, a look of determination in his eyes.

”And some tea, right Popo?” A-Xian fretted. ”And perhaps shijie—Jiang Cheng, you run ahead to ask—”

”Don’t order me around,” A-Cheng grumbled but he rushed away anyway because apparently, both her boys referred to their sister in a time of crisis. A wise choice.

Back in the Jiang quarters, she let the children fuss and air out their worry: A-Cheng fluffed a pillow for her to sit on and then hovered near with a scowl, A-Xian held her hand and poured her tea while Lan Zhan sat gracefully down in the corner out of the way and started to play. A-Li took one look at them and hurried to cook something that would undoubtedly be delicious and soothe her soul.

As the healing music washed over her in gentle yet unyielding waves, Baoshan closed her eyes and started to parse through what Zixun had told her. It was disgusting work but of utmost importance and a necessity if A-Li was ever going to marry into the sect. Baoshan would rather tear the sects to shreds than let her live in such a cesspit of filth.

The following days were spent in quiet contemplation and preparation. Baoshan indulged the children and let them fuss and hover for another day and then told them to get over it because they had more important things to do. She gently told A-Qing and A-Ning to help A-Li with the field hospital, instructed A-Cheng to sit down with Mingjue and Xichen to talk strategy and other war-related nonsense, and then pushed A-Xian down at a table, handed him a stack of talisman paper and a stick of cinnabar, and told him to plan her new talismans.

”And I?” Lan Zhan asked. ”Does Grandmaster have a task for me?”

She raised a brow. ”Yes. First of all, call me Popo,” she said, raising a finger when Lan Zhan opened his mouth, visibly taken aback. ”You are my A-Xian’s intended,” she pointed out. ”We are already family. And the title makes me feel so old.”

”But you are old, Popo,” A-Xian pointed out cheekily, cheeks bright red. 

”Shush, child,” she said, narrowing her eyes, then smiling when A-Xian rolled his eyes and concentrated back on his designs. She turned back to Lan Zhan. ”A-Zhan, I think I would like to hear more of your playing. Just the music—no need to exhaust yourself by pouring your spiritual energy into it this time.”

Lan Zhan nodded jerkily, a slightly lost look in his eyes. ”Of course, Popo,” he almost whispered before sitting down and bending over his qin.

She watched them for a moment, fond and unbearably sad at the same time, thinking about all the people she’d loved and lost. She would not lose them, she vowed. 

As she turned to prepare tea, she felt a small disturbance drawing near. Nothing malevolent as such—more like someone in grave distress, unable to regulate themselves. She reached out and was in no way surprised to encounter the turbulently churning mind of the sneering Jin boy. 

Hm.

She checked that A-Xian and Lan Zhan were alright (which they were, sharing space in the comfortable tranquillity of Lan Zhan’s playing and A-Xian’s muttering as he figured out his designs), and stepped out. It was a bright, crisp day with the sun shining brightly and she lifted a hand to shield her eyes. She heard footsteps come to an abrupt stop and then—nothing.

”How are you holding up?” she asked without turning.

A moment of silence, then a sullen, ”And why would that concern you?”

Baoshan turned and tilted her head a bit, taking in the waxen complexion and dark shadows under Jin Zixun’s eyes. ”I might not like you very much, young master, but no one should go through what you’ve been through.”

He bared his teeth and then flinched as if expecting a blow. 

Baoshan sighed and beckoned with her head. ”Come on,” she said. ”Spar with me.”

”With—” he spluttered. ”You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

”Please,” she said and rolled her eyes. ”If I wanted to kill you, I could do it with my mind. Now. Try to hit me.”

Still looking bewildered, Jin Zixun stepped forward carefully, drawing his sword. 

Baoshan raised a brow and crooked her finger in a come-here-move.

It wasn’t a fight, not really. The Jin boy charged mindlessly, thoughts clouded with anger and fear, but she didn’t bother drawing her sword, merely danced out of the way, tapped him on the arm or the elbow, and sidestepped all his attempts, let him hack at her without reason or finesse. It would’ve been laughably easy to trip him and end this mockery of a match but she sensed he needed this let-out for all the pent-up rage inside of him. So she let him come at her again and again and again until he stopped, spent and sweaty and hollowed out like a cracked vessel. He swayed in front of her, heaving big gulps of air, trembling, and so, so tired.

”What am I supposed to do now?” he whispered.

”Take a bath,” Baoshan said. ”You stink.”

He looked at her, uncomprehending. ”What?”

”After, if you feel like it, come back and we’ll talk.”

”What?” he said again.

”Bath, Zixun. Now.”

She watched as he staggered from the yard and wondered how badly a person could be broken before there was no coming back.

”Why did you do that?” A-Xian asked quietly from behind her.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ”Because no one should be punished for simply existing,” she said. ”And speaking of which,” she added, turning around and fixing him with a narrow-eyed look. ”Why the fuck do you have repeated whipping scars from a spiritual weapon on your back?”

”I—well, you see—” A-Xian started.

”Getting beaten with bamboo rods is harsh but often justified punishment,” she continued over his protestations. ”For a cultivator as strong as you already are, it’s usually nothing. Punishment by a discipline whip is cruel and meant as a punishment for something akin to treason.” She lowered her voice and stepped forward. ”You have ten fresh wounds from a weapon-grade spiritual tool on your back and way more healed scarring than I can detect without putting my hands on you. So. Let me ask you again, Wei Ying, my grandson, why the fuck do you have repeated whipping scars from a spiritual weapon on your back?”

”It was either me or them,” he whispered. ”And I would always, always rather take it than make them suffer the punishment.”

She gripped his chin in her hold and forced him to meet her eyes. ”You did not deserve that. It was not your fault.”

”Popo—”

”Don’t you dare,” she growled. ”Don’t you dare disrespect my grandson by claiming he deserved that.”

A-Xian’s breath hitched and he tried to turn away but Baoshan had him in an iron grip.

”You are mine now. All of you are mine and none of you deserved that.”

Under her hand, A-Xian swallowed and his eyes brimmed over. ”But—”

”No,” she said, immovable, unshakable. ”No more.”

And when A-Xian started to cry, she sighed and smoothed his cheek, drew him close to kiss him on the forehead, and hugged him. ”I am so proud of you, A-Ying,” she whispered. ”And so are your parents.”

She didn’t hear it but she felt the calming resonance of Lan Zhan’s music drifting from inside the room, wrapping them both in a hug.

Sadly, they still had the war to deal with which meant dealing with men. If it hadn’t been for her dear children (into which she included also Mingjue and Xichen), Baoshan would’ve fucked off ages ago. But as that wasn’t an option, she merely fucked off to Dafan Mountain with A-Qing and A-Xian (and Lan Zhan because he looked way too sad when he thought A-Xian was going off without him) to make sure A-Qing’s family was safe. It was a relatively simple job to carve A-Xian’s talismans into the trees and rock bed and then power them to create a dome of nothing-to-see-here-bye as A-Xian called it. They had tea with A-Qing’s Popo before leaving and she watched with mounting amusement and exasperation as A-Qing’s baby cousin charmed both boys in turn, making them blush and make wide-eyed, smitten looks at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

”Oh, for fuck’s sake,” A-Qing sighed as A-Xian held the baby up in his arms and Lan Zhan stared at them with bright red ears and a frankly indecent look on his face.

”They’ll be good parents,” Wen Popo murmured and sipped her tea. 

”Mn,” Baoshan said.

”At least they can’t reproduce by themselves,” A-Qing muttered. Then she froze and slowly turned to face Baoshan. ”They can’t. Right?”

Baoshan let out a noncommittal hum and covered her smile with her teacup, fighting back a full-blown grin at A-Qing’s furious swearing.

Ah. Dealing with men was exhausting but this? This was nice.

”This is nice,” she murmured.

”Then you should come back when you’re done,” Wen Popo said.

”You know what? I think I will,” she said. Then she finished her tea, set her cup down, and bellowed, ”Boys! Stop playing house, we need to head back!” and shared an eye roll with A-Qing when A-Xian, predictably, sputtered in red-faced embarrassment.

”Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Baoshan asked, not sure whether to be annoyed or genuinely curious. ”This is a suicide mission. You…do understand that, do you?”

Mingjue set his jaw and scowled at him. It was cute. 

”Popo—” A-Cheng started, sounding troubled.

”Honestly, children,” she sighed. ”I know I told you all to stop calling me Immortal but I hope you haven’t forgotten that I am, actually, an immortal,” she said dryly. ”I’m your blunt force instrument. Use me as such.”

Xichen opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. ”We were under the impression that you didn’t want to take an active part in the war effort,” he said carefully.

She cupped his cheek. ”Silly boy, what part of ’I’m tired of losing people,’ and ’if winning this fucking war is what it takes to allow my grandson to marry the boy he adores, then I’m going to win this fucking war’ was unclear? Besides, I think I’m going to like being a great-grandmother.”

Xichen’s eyes went wide. ”Wangji?” he asked in a strangled voice.

”What? No!” Baoshan huffed. ”Why are you so adamant that A-Xian and A-Zhan are going to cultivate a baby?”

”Could we actually do that?” A-Xian mused.

”NO!” A-Cheng yelled. ”No baby-making. Ever. I don’t want to think about it!”

”Then don’t think about it,” A-Xian muttered mutinously but snapped his mouth shut when Mingjue cleared his throat.

”So…if Immor—” Mingjue paused, hesitated a bit, and then continued with a resigned air, ”if Popo objects to this scouting mission, then what should we do?”

Baoshan shrugged. ”Let’s just walk in.”

”Walk. In.”

”Yes?”

”What about the puppets?” Xichen asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him. ”What puppets?” she asked slowly.

Xichen shared a look with Mingjue. ”Wen Ruohan has been creating puppets—sort of fierce corpses he controls with resentful energy. Except that they’re not really dead but stripped of their spiritual cognition instead.”

”And?”

Xichen looked a bit lost. ”And…”

”And that makes them really really hard to kill, Popo,” A-Xian said. ”Especially if they’re the mutated ones. Those can also turn cultivators into puppets.”

She huffed. ”Over my dead fucking body,” she said. ”A-Xian, come. I have an idea.”

”Can it have explosions, Popo?” A-Xian asked hopefully. ”Please, Popo, can I make explosions?”

As she led A-Xian (and, by extension, Lan Zhan) from the war room, she heard A-Cheng’s mournful, ”You see? She’s making him worse!”

”I need you to design a shielding talisman,” she said to A-Xian. ”Something that repels and redirects spiritual attacks, and the more powerful the attack, the more power it mirrors back.”

”Oh…” A-Xian said, his eyes taking a faraway look. ”So, if it’s—hm—Wen Ruohan tends to go full offense—the mirror is a good idea—Lan Zhan, what about—wait, no—” 

Baoshan watched them go, A-Xian babbling and gesticulating in excitement, Lan Zhan following him and gently guiding him so that he didn’t bump into anything like a wall or other people. That taken care of, she nodded and turned to look at the shape trying to hide behind the corner.

”Are you coming or are you going to keep pretending you don’t want to help?” she said.

Jin Zixun took a hesitant step from the shadows, not quite meeting her eyes. ”Help,” he said.

Baoshan cocked her head. ”Do you mean you need help or that you want to help? Use your words!”

”Want,” Zixun said, then he gritted his jaw and clarified, ”I want to help.”

”Good boy,” Baoshan said automatically and immediately realized her mistake when Zixun went white and flinched. ”Fuck. No. Sorry, kid, that was on me.” She took a deep breath and said slowly, looking the boy straight in the eye. ”Thank you for offering, Zixun. Your help will be both needed and appreciated.”

For a moment, the boy didn’t move. Then he nodded stiffly, just once. 

Baoshan nodded back. ”How is your handwriting?”

If the other children had thoughts about Zixun’s role, they didn’t voice them aloud. Which was just as good because Baoshan wasn’t sure what she would’ve said if she was actually demanded an explanation of why she decided to kidnap Sect Leader Jin’s nephew as her personal scribe. The boy was a bully and needlessly mean, but he’d also been broken by people he should’ve been able to trust, and something in Baoshan rebelled against just dumping him. 

Oh, what the hell. She was an immortal, she could do what she wanted.

And that’s how Zixun ended up standing just slightly behind her back and writing down bits and pieces she threw at him. He clearly had no clue what to do with the words and phrases that seemed to have absolutely nothing to do with what came before or after, but he didn’t ask. (One day, when they were going through the notes, Baoshan stopped him and said, ”Oh, right. Prunes and sticks—A-Xian, how about you try compressing the Golden Thread Formation?” When Zixun stared at her and then at his notes, she shrugged. ”Free association. I just need someone to write down the key.”)

After three weeks of intense preparations, sparring lessons, talisman crafting, meditating, and potion making, they were ready. They set out with the first light, quiet and determined, following a map Xichen had provided—apparently he had someone on the inside. Baoshan hoped they were worth the faith Xichen had in them. 

Their route took them through a field adorned with lava cylinders and it was so obviously a trap that Baoshan wanted to roll her eyes but settled for a sharp whistle instead. She raised one of A-Xian’s new talismans—an adaptation of his binding talisman and a Lan body-locking spell—and with grim nods, each cultivator made their way to a cylinder. They activated the talismans at the same time, locking the trap in place before it could spring. After the field, they entered a narrow passage that Baoshan made safe with a snap of his fingers, and after that, they made their way up a treacherous path that ran the volcano’s side like it had been carved by wind and rain.

When they finally reached the gates of Nightless City, Baoshan raised a finger. They each stuck A-Xian’s protective talisman on their chests and then she made rounds, activating them one by one (all except for A-Cheng whose talisman was activated by Xichen before he and Mingjue poured him full of spiritual energy, and then Baoshan replenished them both and activated their talismans) before activating her own. She felt her energy thrum under her skin and her core flared as she rolled her shoulders.

”All right, then. Let’s go!”

In truth, had it not been for her powering the protective talismans, the final battle would’ve gone very differently  indeed. Wen Ruohan’s puppets roared and trashed and reached out for them, but their grips didn’t hold and their crude swords slid off with no harm done. As they advanced to the courtyard, flaming bolts of lava hurled toward them, only to bounce off from the protection. The puppets were visibly confused but they no longer had the capacity for more elaborate thought so they attacked again and again and again, always with equal vigor, always bouncing off due to A-Xian’s talismans.

”Come on,” Baoshan muttered, staring at the top of the stairs with narrowed eyes. She kept part of her attention on the children but most of her concentration was directed at the main entrance of the Palace of Sun and Flames where, according to Xichen’s source, Wen Ruohan resided.

”When he comes out, you fall back and let me handle him, is that clear?” Baoshan had said back in the camp. ”Feel free to smack the puppets as much as you want to but Wen Ruohan is mine.”

None of them had been happy with her but they agreed and, more importantly, obeyed when a man in blood-red robes and dark energy swirling around him slowly appeared on the platform.

”How dare you?” Wen Ruohan hissed, pitching his voice so that it echoed eerily from all corners of the yard. ”How dare you invade my home? How dare you raise your sword against me, an immortal!”

”Oh, please,” Baoshan said, letting her voice ring out like a bell. ”There’s only one immortal here and that sure as fuck isn’t you.”

”What?” Wen Ruohan roared. ”Who are you?”

”Who, me?” Baoshan asked. ”I’m just a granny.”

Then she let the mental shield fall from around her core and let it flare out in full force. She was distantly aware of the children more like falling on their asses than falling back in an orderly fashion but she concentrated on Wen Ruohan as she started to make her way up the stairs. Wen Ruohan hurled resentful energy at her and it bounced off, lashing out at the ridiculously pompous statues lining the stairs, throwing them down, and cracking the columns they sat on.

It was a strain, she wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. Wen Ruohan was powerful and the…oh. Right. The buffoon was apparently using an Yin iron talisman as a power bank which made him a serious threat. He was also quite insane which became more and more obvious as Baoshan drew closer. By the time she was facing him on the platform, he was frothing at the mouth, spittle and blood spraying from his lips as he spewed profanities and insults that frankly were tired decades ago. Funny how that went—powerful men going berserk over a woman who refused to bow to them.

”Is that all you’ve got?” Baoshan asked, tilting her head slightly. ”And people say you are mighty.”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes went red as he roared and visibly prepared to hurl the combined power of his core and the reserves of resentful energy in the Yin iron at her. In the split moment of stillness right before the strike, Baoshan gathered her spiritual energy into a string with a cruelly sharp tip (not unlike the tool she’d formed to clear out A-Cheng’s meridians) and lashed out in one tight, compressed strike.

For a moment, everything was still.

Then Wen Ruohan’s head slid away from his shoulders as he slowly fell on his knees and then keeled over. 

Behind him, stood a very pretty, very young man with a soft sword in his hand. He blinked twice and then his face went carefully blank as he met Baoshan’s eyes—but not before she saw a flash of…disappointment? 

She shelved that for further examination as next to Wen Ruohan, the Yin iron talisman started to tremble. ”Oh, no, you won’t,” she muttered and slapped several A-Xian’s compressed Golden Thread Formation talismans on it, creating a multi-layered cage for the foul thing she dropped into a heavily warded qiankun pouch.

And that’s when Jin fucking Guangshan strutted into the courtyard.

”We need a feast!” Jin Guangshan boomed, spreading his hands wide in the middle of Wen Ruohan’s former grand hall.

”Why?” Baoshan asked.

”Wh—wait, who are you?” Jin Guangshan asked, giving her a baffled once-over. When he found her too plain and, more importantly, way too old, he shrugged and directed his gaze at the pretty young man standing a bit to the side. The soft sword was nowhere to be seen. ”Do I know you?” he asked. 

Baoshan didn’t like the look on his face.

The man bowed very deeply. ”This one is Meng Yao, Sect Leader Jin. This one—”

”A-Yao was my informant inside the Wen sect,” Xichen interrupted, gently lifting the man from his bow. ”He’s proven essential for the war effort.”

The devotion in Meng Yao’s eyes was most likely genuine, Baoshan thought, but the boy was cunning and sly and—

”Meng Yao?” Jin Guangshan said with a frown. ”Didn’t I kick you from the Koi Tower once?” 

The boy’s face went bright red with humiliation but he only bowed. 

”Well, did you get anything done here? Wait, who killed Wen Ruohan?”

Meng Yao’s eyes flickered to Baoshan but he said nothing.

”I think it was Popo,” Xichen said with a pleasant smile.

”Popo? Who the hell is Popo?”

”That would be me,” Baoshan said and then asked Xichen, ”The children? Is everyone all right?”

”What children?” Jin Guangshan asked.

”Yes, Popo,” Xichen said. ”Wei Wuxian overextended himself and poured himself dry, and Wangji is watching over him now. Sect Leader Jiang is fine, Mingjue grumbled something about wanting to hit something properly. No losses on our side, mostly sprains and bruises and a few minor qi-deviations.”

Jin Guangshan sputtered. ”Excuse me—”

Baoshan ignored him. ”I trust A-Li is already organizing the hospital?”

”Yes,” Xichen said with a nod. ”With doctor Wen and Wen Qionglin helping her.”

”What?” Jin Guangshan barked. ”Wens? They must be rounded up and—”

She snorted. ”Or how about we leave the civilians and non-combatants be.”

Jin Guangshan narrowed his eyes and loomed over her, probably counting on intimidating her enough to stand down. Idiot. ”And who do you think you are to make that kind of a decision?”

Baoshan raised a brow, gave him an unimpressed look, and let her spiritual energy flare again. ”I am Baoshan Sanren, and the Dafan Wen are under my protection.” She took a step closer until she was flush to his chest, feeling a flash of satisfaction when the man stiffened, radiating discomfort. ”And I know exactly who you are and what you have been doing in a room with pale green curtains and a red door.”

Jin Guangshan stumbled back, his face sickly pale and eyes wide. ”You’re lying,” he hissed. ”Baoshan Sanren is dead.”

She shrugged, amused. ”You’ll find that the rumors of my passing have been greatly exaggerated.” She turned  slowly around and said, ”Does anyone know if there’s any wine around here?”

Meng Yao glanced sharply up before bowing. ”This one might be of use…” he started and let his voice trail away demurely.

”You might if you can find wine,” she said. ”I’ll be with the children.”

”Children?” she heard Meng Yao murmur as she walked out of the grand hall.

”That would be…well, most of our generation, but especially the remaining Jiang,” Xichen said.

Hm. That boy would need some watching.

The feast was an embarrassment. Jin Guangshan kept acting like he had contributed a great deal even though his biggest accomplishment was providing the seed that had grown into Meng Yao. Sadly, he also had seniority among the sect leaders, and way too many minor sect leaders applauded eagerly at anything he said.

How boring.

And then the idiot brought up A-Li’s engagement. Baoshan would’ve walked out at that point but she couldn’t because it was A-Li.

”I don’t think I am the correct person to answer this, Sect Leader Jin,” A-Cheng said curtly.

”Who then? Yanli?” Jin Guangshan looked around, visibly amused, and was rewarded with obedient tittering from the Yao section.

”Well, our sister does have a functioning mouth and she’s more than capable of talking for herself,” A-Xian drawled (and A-Cheng let out a small, exasperated huff), ”but what A-Cheng really means that usually the Sect Elders are the ones who hammer out marriage negotiations.”

”The Jiang Sect has no Elders,” Jin Guangshan snorted.

”Nope, we do!” A-Xian said cheerfully. 

”What,” Jin Guangshan said flatly as Baoshan pinched the base of her nose. 

”Thanks a lot,” she muttered as she stood up. ”You wanted to ask me something, Guangshan?”

”You—not you!” he sputtered, looking appalled. ”You can’t be a Jiang Elder!”

She raised a brow. ”I don’t think that was a question, young man,” she said just to see Jin Guangshan flush red. ”What comes to A-Li’s engagement, I’m willing to reinstate it on two conditions.”

”Popo!” A-Xian hissed. ”What are you—” He fell silent when A-Li cleared her throat.

”Yes?” Jin Guangshan said through gritted teeth.

”One,” Baoshan said, ”A-Li requests it herself. So far, she has not.”

”That’s preposterous!” Sect Leader Yao pontificated. ”Young people cannot be responsible for decisions like that!”

Baoshan snorted. ”Considering I’m several centuries older than her, I think I have the ability to be the judge of that. Now, sit down and shut up, I wasn’t talking to you.”

Sect Leader Yao sat down, red, sputtering.

”And the second condition?” Jin Guangshan said, trying and mostly failing to sound civil.

”That you are no longer Sect Leader Jin.”

The hall erupted in shouting but she ignored them, turning to look at A-Xian. ”Acceptable?” she asked. ”Not that I actually care about your opinion, A-Xian. This is A-Li’s decision, not yours.”

”This is ridiculous!” Some old man yelled from behind the Yao section. ”Who is this woman and why does she pretend to be a Jiang!”

A-Cheng stood up like a tiger ready to pounce and Zidian sparked in his hand. ”How I run my sect is the business of the Jiang. Yanli is my sister and my senior who I trust with my life. Wei Wuxian is my shixiong, my heir, my brother, who I trust with my life.” He took a slow look around the hall and his voice dropped into a growl. ”Immortal Baoshan Sanren is Wei Wuxian’s grandmother and Grandmaster. I trust her with my life and my siblings’ lives, and I trust her judgment as the only remaining Jiang Elder. Does anyone have a problem with that?”

For a moment, the hall was silent and the only sound was Zidian’s crackle. Then Xichen (and A-Zhan) stood up with a smile (A-Zhan didn’t smile, obviously), bowed, and said, ”Gusu Lan trusts Sect Leader Jiang’s rule over his sect and recognizes Elder Jiang.”

From the Nie section, a softer voice called out, ”Of course we have no problem with Popo, right da-ge?” Ah. That would be Mingjue’s younger brother Huaisang who watched her with way too clever eyes laughing over the rim of his fan. 

”Huaisang, please,” Mingjue said as he stood up and bowed. ”Qinghe Nie has absolutely no problems with how Sect Leader Jiang runs his business, and only an idiot would try to cross Baoshan Sanren,” he said bluntly.

”That’s so nice of you, Mingjue,” Baoshan said, grinning. ”If that was all?”

Silence. The major sect leaders had said their piece, Jin Guangshan was nearly apoplectic, and the minor sect leaders were clearly at a loss of what to do.

With a sigh, she sat down and muttered, ”Now, who do I have to kill to get decent wine here?”

 A moment later, Meng Yao appeared next to her with a wine bottle. ”A bottle from Wen Ruohan’s personal stash,” he said, bowing down. ”It is from an exceptionally good vintage.”

”You’re not trying to poison me, are you?”

Meng Yao looked up with startled eyes, which might even have been a genuine reaction. ”Immortal Baoshan—I’m—why would you say that?”

She gently took his wrist and leaned a bit closer to take a good, long look into his eyes. ”You have been through quite a lot, haven’t you,” she murmured. ”And yet, you’ve persevered.” She tilted her head and let a small, pleasant smile tug at her lips. ”These young people mean very much to me, including Xichen. Think very hard about who you want to pledge your allegiance to and why. I wouldn’t want any of my children to get hurt.”

His eyes went a bit wide at the mention of Xichen but to his credit, he didn’t avert his eyes. He let Baoshan see what she could—which wasn’t that much, he was very good at hiding his thoughts. Considering whom he had served last, that was no surprise.

”This one thanks Immortal Baoshan Sanren for her advice,” he said. ”If I may—”

”What’s he doing here?” Zixun interrupted.

A pleasant mask slammed down on Meng Yao’s face and he took a step back, bowing deep.

”Zixun!” Baoshan snapped. ”Don’t be a dick.”

”But—”

Baoshan shook her head sharply. ”If you’re going to spew some bullshit about parentage, don’t. My grandson is the son of a servant, and if you think for a moment that I give a flying fuck about the parentage when he’s proven his character and skill over and over again, you’re way more stupid than I thought.” She sighed and continued in a soft voice. ”You of all people should know how little pedigree has to do with nobility.”

Zixun gritted his teeth. ”Fine,” he spat. ”But I don’t have to like him.”

”Whoever said anything about liking? I only told you not to be a dick. There is a middle way there, you know.” She raised a brow. ”And that starts with an apology.”

”This one doesn’t—” Meng Yao started.

”Oh shut up, boy,” Baoshan said, suddenly tired. ”You know, this is one of the main reasons why walked away: I fucking hate sniveling and posturing and political power plays.” She looked at Meng Yao. ”You’re the son of a prostitute, so fucking what? As long as you are a decent person, I don’t care. And you,” she turned to Zixun. ”You have been a bully and a sadist to cover up your own issues but if you do better and behave like a decent fucking person, I don’t care.” She felt a headache throbbing behind her eyes.

”Popo,” A-Xian said, taking her arm and gently tugging her along.

”What?” she snapped.

”I think you need a nap,” he said wryly. ”I’ve been told elderly people get crotchety if they miss their daily naps.”

”Do I need to remind you of the rule?” she grumbled. 

”Of course not, Popo,” A-Xian said.

”What rule?” she heard Huaisang pipe up.

”Shut up and drink your wine,” A-Xian called over his shoulder.

Huaisang let out tutting sound. ”Rude.” 

A-Xian grinned. ”No. That is the rule.”

”Wangji,” Xichen said quietly, and a moment later A-Zhan made his way to them.

She threw her hands in the air, feeling unbearably fond. ”Fine, fine, I can see I’m overpowered,” she said. ”Will you play to me, A-Zhan?”

”Mn.”

She turned to face the room again and inclined her head. ”Sect Leaders,” she said, and then to A-Cheng and Xichen, ”Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

”Yeah, because that rules out so much,” A-Cheng snorted. 

She liked that boy so much.

”What I can’t quite wrap my head around is that why the fuck you let that stain continue with his despicable behavior,” Baoshan said bluntly. ”Frankly, I expected more from you.”

Around her, the room went deathly silent. Two days after the farce Jin Guangshan called a banquet, Baoshan and the children were enjoying a late lunch when none else than Madam Jin walked in with her son. She tried (and mostly failed) to cajole A-Li to switch places and dine between her and Jin Zixuan, an invitation A-Li gently but firmly declined. The resulting scowl wasn’t a good look on Madam Jin. Baoshan didn’t exactly care.

”I— He—” she started, then paused, swallowed, and straightened her pose. ”He said that he’d never touch me again if I didn’t let him live his life as he wished.”

”And why, pray tell, would you want him to touch you again?”

”I wanted more children,” Madam Jin said woodenly.

”With him,” Baoshan said flatly. ”Really?” Behind her, someone—probably A-Xian—utterly failed to swallow up a snort.

Madam Jin drew a hissing breath. ”He’s still Sect Leader Jin and my husband,” she said. ”But I don’t expect someone like you to understand what loyalty means anyway.”

”Mother!” Jin Zixuan whispered with a furiously red face, trying and completely failing to silence his mother. 

”What?” Madam Jin snapped. ”She marches in here making outrageous claims and demands and being all…like…”

”Like what? A nuisance?” Baoshan interrupted before A-Xian or A-Cheng had the chance to jump to her defense. She was more than capable of fending for herself, thank you very much. ”The perk of being an immortal is to have a very long timeframe to observe things. Just because I choose to remove myself from the continuous bickering and pissing contests doesn’t mean I’m blind or stupid. Unlike you.”

Madam Jin’s face turned white with rage. ”How dare you!” she said in a low, dangerous tone. With a small flick of her wrist, a slender blade appeared in her hand and she raised her arm, pointing the sword right at Baoshan. ”You are out of line, immortal or not. You have slandered my husband and—”

”Sit. Down.”

Baoshan Sanren rarely bothered to flex her full power but she was tired, annoyed, and hungry. She’d had enough of these posturing games and sword-brandishing, and she was just. Done. With a sweep of her spiritual energy, she flattened everyone in the room, pushing them to sit down where they were. 

”You are a child of the Yu, Bai Mingzhu” she snarled at Madam Jin. ”You were taught to be better. To do better. And here you stand in your opulent robes and needlessly elaborate jewelry, demanding respect for a rapist and a child molester. You disappoint me.” She turned her head slightly and called over her shoulder, ”A-Xian. The talisman, please.”

”Ah,” A-Xian said hesitantly. ”Are—are you sure, Popo?” When she merely raised an expectant brow, A-Xian cleared his throat and walked forward. ”So, um—”

”This is a talisman designed to show familial relations in the most easiest way possible,” Baoshan interrupted, holding the talisman high for everyone to see. ”It was something A-Xian came up with some while ago for—actually, what was it for originally?”

A-Xian shrugged, looking sheepish. ”The spring floods in Yunmeng tend to be violent. Sometimes people get caught up in the waters and they’re lost. This was meant to help to locate those swept away and buried under the mud and silt. The basic form locks on family but it can be modified into other things—loved ones, enemies, friends… Honestly, it’s so simple I don’t understand why it hasn’t been done before.”

”Simple for you, sweet boy,” Baoshan said. ”Nigh impossible for the rest of us.”

A-Xian opened his mouth, then closed it, bright red spots on his cheeks. ”No, really—I mean—”

”Just shut up and activate it already,” A-Cheng grumbled under his breath.

”Eh,” A-Xian said, glanced quickly at Baoshan for permission, and then activated the talisman with a surge of spiritual energy. Without further ado, he slapped it on Baoshan’s chest.

Instantly, a bright golden light shot from her to A-Xian.

”What?” A-Xian said faintly.

”I told you I’m your grandmother,” Baoshan said dryly. ”I don’t know why you are so surprised about it.”

”But—”

”Go on,” Baoshan said as she turned slightly, nodding at A-Cheng and A-Li behind her.

When A-Xian placed the talisman on A-Cheng’s chest, the bright golden light lit up between them with a handful of short tendrils, not unlike cut-off strings of yarn reaching out. ”That’s for other familial relationships,” A-Xian said.

”Our grandmother and aunts back in Meishan Yu,” A-Li whispered. ”Thank you for letting us know they’re still alive, A-Xian.”

Next were Xichen and A-Zhan, who also shared the blinding light between them and one string reaching out to the direction of the Cloud Recesses. ”That would be Uncle,” Xichen said and inclined his head. ”Thank you, Wei Wuxian.”

”Us! Us! Do us next!” Mingjue’s little brother yelled, waving his fan as he jumped up and hurried across the room. ”This is exciting!” he breathed as A-Xian slapped the talisman onto his forehead, making him squeak and flail dramatically—all for a show, of course. The result was still only one, bright beam of light stretching between Huaisang and Mingjue.

”Oh,” Huaisang said, sounding disappointed.

”What did you expect?” A-Xian asked, sounding genuinely curious.

”I don’t know—I was hoping da-ge and I would have surprise brothers and sisters!” Huaisang wailed. ”But it’s just us!”

”Huaisang!” Mingjue barked. ”Stop fooling around and come here.”

As the young man sniffled his way back to his brother’s side, Baoshan bit her lip to keep a smile off her face. What a clever, clever boy, that Young Master Nie. She’d have to talk to him later—although she had a feeling the boy would vehemently deny everything if questioned.

”As riveting as this all is, I fail to see the relevance,” Madam Jin sneered. She was still pointing her sword at Baoshan which was amusing as fuck. Cute of her to assume Baoshan would feel threatened or intimidated by anything she was capable of.

”The relevance, of course,” Baoshan said with a sharp smile, ”is this.” She snatched the talisman and with her spiritual power, sent it to Jin Zixuan’s chest with enough force to make him sway. The moment the talisman connected, dozens of bright lights burst out. Some of them connected to several people in the room but most of them shot through the walls in multiple directions.

”I meant to do this in private, you know,” she said conversationally, eyeing Madam Jin who was now white for a very different reason. ”But when you decided to draw your sword, my hand just…” she shrugged. ”Slipped.”

”What—” Madam Jin said faintly.

”Looks like your son has quite a lot of siblings,” Baoshan said sweetly and, as the room descended into horrified chaos, she turned around and walked out. They could sort out their mess by themselves for all she cared.

She barely made it down the corridor when A-Li caught up with her. ”That wasn’t very nice, Popo,” she said quietly.

”I’m not interested in being nice,” she said blandly. 

”Yes, but—”

”A-Li,” she said firmly, turning around. ”You have done enough wound care to understand the basics. If a festering wound doesn’t heal, what do you need to do?”

”Drain out the pus and clean the wound, of course,” she said. ”But these are people we’re talking about. Not a wound.”

”Doesn’t mean the result isn’t the same,” Baoshan said. ”Please, excuse me, A-Li. I’m tired.”

”Of course, Popo,” A-Li said. 

She could feel her eyes on her back the whole time until she turned the corner.

A week later, Jin Guangshan had stepped down and Madam Jin took up the mantle of the Sect Leader. Zixuan, with his newly legitimized brother Jin Ziyao, set out to track down the dozens upon dozens of rumors of bright golden light suddenly reaching down from the heavens to touch people, some already adults, some barely weaned babies, some apparently still inside their mothers’ bellies. They carried with them a stack of A-Xian’s look-a-new-sibling! talismans (his name, not Baoshan’s) to make sure they were truly Jin Guangshan’s children. Apparently, Zixuan was very taken with the idea of being a big brother.

Baoshan didn’t really give a fuck. Sometimes wound care took strange turns and scar tissue grew in unexpected ways—you know, if one wanted to keep with the wound care analogy.

”You need a wife.”

”What?” A-Cheng yelped, spilling tea all over himself.

”Not yet, of course,” Baoshan continued. ”Three marriages in a short order would be a far too big a strain on us. But as a sect leader, it’s your duty to marry and produce an heir.”

A-Cheng stared at her for a moment, eyes wide and mouth open. Then he sputtered, swallowed, and pointed a  finger at A-Xian who was trying (not very hard) to suppress his giggling. ”This is your fault! I don’t know how but it’s your fault!”

”Mine?” A-Xian asked, feigning heartfelt hurt. ”How can it be my fault? I just want my didi to feel some sweeeee—!” His voice turned into an undignified screech as A-Cheng lunged at him. 

Baoshan watched them roughhouse for a while, then sighed and with a wave of spiritual energy, sent them into the lake. They emerged a moment later, identical looks of betrayal on their faces. She ignored them, choosing to look at A-Zhan instead, frozen at the edge of the pavilion and staring at A-Xian with wonder that turned into something way more carnal as soon as A-Xian made his way back to the pier, his soaking wet robes clinging to his frame. Next to him, Jin Zixuan looked decidedly uncomfortable.

”Boys,” A-Li sighed, shaking her head. ”You’re hardly making a good impression on our guests.”

”Guests?” A-Xian said and then upon noticing his betrothed, yelled, ”Lan Zhan!”

”He’s right there, you don’t have to yell,” A-Cheng muttered sourly. Then he bowed as gracefully as he was able in his drenched clothes. ”Welcome, Lan Wangji, Jin Zixuan. If you’ll excuse us, we’re going to get changed.” Without further ado, he grabbed A-Xian by the collar and dragged him along, ignoring his yelp and theatrical goodbyes to A-Zhan.

”Immortal—I mean—Elder Jiang—” Jin Zixuan stammered, drawing Baoshan’s attention to him. ”I—uh—a letter. For you.” He closed his eyes, took a breath, and then started again. ”Immortal Baoshan Sanren. I have a letter for you to read in the capacity of the Elder of the Jiang Sect. It is a marriage proposal,” he added.

Baoshan took the offered letter, raising a brow. 

”Not from me!” Jin Zixuan hurried to add, then his eyes went wide. ”I mean—I would love to but—that’s—I mean—” His words dried up and he threw a rather desperate look at A-Li who ducked her head to pour tea. 

”Boy, how do you manage out in the world?” Baoshan asked.

He winced. ”I usually have my brother with me?”

”How is Jin Ziyao?” A-Li asked. ”I’ve heard he’s been working very hard.”

”He’s a lifesaver,” Jin Zixuan breathed, visibly grateful to have something (or someone) else to talk about. ”He remembers everything he’s ever read and everyone he’s ever met and…”

Baoshan tuned him and A-Li out, inclined her head at A-Zhan who was awkwardly hovering, and tapped the space next to her before opening the letter.

Huh.

A marriage proposal—for A-Cheng.

Interesting.

When the boys came back, A-Xian immediately threw himself almost on A-Zhan’s lap and then went bright red when A-Zhan curled an arm around his waist. Baoshan gave him a look and then bit back a snort when A-Zhan’s face went, if possible, even more blank. 

Oh, fine. This was Lotus Pier, let the boys be in love in public.

”What do you think about Qin Su?” she asked A-Cheng.

”Who?” A-Cheng asked. Then he blinked and frowned. ”Wait, no…that’s. Oh.”

”My sister,” Jin Zixuan said quietly. ”She allows me to call her that but that’s all. I think the whole family is still in shock—her father nearly qi-deviated when they found out.”

”This has been a trying time for so many people,” A-Li said softly. ”It’s not your fault. Your father’s deeds are on him, not on you.”

”I know. It just…”

”Fucking sucks,” Baoshan said. ”Yeah. It does. Nevertheless, they’re offering her hand in marriage.”

”To me?” A-Cheng asked.

”No, to Popo,” A-Xian quipped. ”Of course to you! You’re the only one of us who isn’t spoken of!”

”I will end you,” A-Cheng growled, taking a step closer.

A-Xian squeaked and burrowed closer to A-Zhan. ”Lan Zhan, protect me!” he wailed, clinging to the arm A-Zhan calmly raised to shield him.

”Are they always like this?” Jin Zixuan asked A-Li in a half-whisper as A-Cheng made a face at A-Xian who was now properly on A-Zhan’s lap. 

”Usually they’re worse,” she replied before clearing her throat. ”I like Lady Qin. She’s calm and centered—she might be a good match.”

She met Baoshan’s eyes, with an unspoken message: And most importantly, there was absolutely no chance they were half-siblings. Madam Yu would’ve sooner gelded Jin Guangshan than submit to him and everyone knew that.

”A long engagement, of course,” Baoshan said. ”You are still mourning your parents, the sect is in shambles, and everyone is still recovering from the war. Laoling Qin is scrambling and trying to collect themselves after the scandal and shame. We can draft a preliminary agreement with enough leeway so that if something else comes along, it can be dissolved without either sect losing face.” She raised a brow at A-Cheng’s conflicted look. ”Unless you have another option.”

He turned his head. ”No,” he said quietly. ”I’d just hoped—”

”A-Cheng,” A-Li said so softly Baoshan barely heard her. ”Her heart already belongs to someone else.”

A-Cheng nodded without meeting her eyes. 

Baoshan sighed. ”I’m not going to force you to do anything you aren’t willing to do. If you want to decline, we will, and we’ll figure out something else.” What that something else was, she didn’t know. None of the major sects had available daughters—as Wen Qing was no longer an option for multiple reasons—which meant they’d need to consider minor sects. If someone asked Baoshan (which, well, someone did because she was the only Jiang Elder after all), even a commoner would do but leading a major sect without a sect upbringing would be extremely hard. Not impossible, but hard. 

”I won’t. Decline, that is,” A-Cheng said, slowly shaking his head. ”It’s just…I never thought—”

She beckoned at him and drew him into a one-armed hug when he sat next to her. ”Take a deep breath, A-Cheng,” she said, not unkindly. ”There will be time to mourn and time to plan, but for now, we can have a moment to just be.” 

She felt more than heard the shuddering gust of air that left the boy and squeezed him a bit harder.

”And you! Hands where I can see them,” she then snapped, making the other four children jump. ”All of you.”

She didn’t bother hiding her smile at the startled shuffling and flaming red cheeks.

Ah. 

Young people in love were so easy to tease.

It was a bright, cool night when Baoshan walked the pier, feeling somewhat unmoored. She didn’t like to dwell on it because, in her experience, nothing good came out of wallowing, especially if one couldn’t do anything to change the situation. But as she let her eyes move over the quiet settlement, she realized what she was feeling wasn’t just nostalgia or sorrow, it was perhaps the sense of a job well done, a task finished. 

What was she supposed to do next?

The lake was calm like a mirror, reflecting the stars above. Here and there a fish broke the surface, snagging an unsuspecting insect or jumping over a lotus pod. The air smelled fresh and heavy at the same time, a strange combination Baoshan wasn’t accustomed to. Her mountain air was always cool and crisp with a hint of snow—perhaps similar to the Cloud Recesses (at least when it was not burning)—but she found she liked this, too. This smell had life in it.

”They’re such good kids, Cangse,” she said, looking up to the stars. ”Your A-Ying is a genius with one of the sharpest minds I’ve ever encountered. I can’t wait to see him debate talismans and cultivation theory with Qiren. And his betrothed is magnificent in his own right—they balance each other out rather well, I think. And they’re ridiculously powerful together.

”And A-Cheng and A-Li…” she shook her head. ”If you’re listening, Ziyuan; you are a fool. Your children are exceptional and from what I have learned, you were too blinded by petty jealousy to see it. Not all strength is stored in golden cores, and your children are living proof of that. A-Li is tenacious and resilient and A-Cheng has gone against all possible odds and reached the impossible even after losing his core. If you aren’t proud of them, I’ll be twice as proud for you. And in spite of you.

”Jiang Fengmian—honestly, I don’t have anything to say to you. You were a failure as a father and you should be ashame—”

A loud moan broke the silence, resonating over the water into the stillness of the night. It was soon followed by a series of wails and begging and—

”Oh, for fucks sake,” Baoshan sighed. ”I’m happy they’re happy but for the sake of the Heavens and all of our sanity, they really should learn to reapply the privacy talismans.”

FIN